The Night Market Book 2

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<a data-passage="Introduction" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/SQ36SwSJ/Untitled-Artwork-3.png" height="500" width="900"> </a>\ [[On to the story|Choices]] A sea of dancers swayed across the floor in a series of unsolvable riddles. Each offering a different secret. One in which they coveted, their claws digging into the unknown in an effort to protect the world at large. Masked forms twisted and twirled, skirts brushing the smoke strewn floors while a band of discordant minstrels continued to play their strings, the blood from their fingers dripping into rivers that trickled into rubies as they flowed down the stairs. Each gem scattered across the floor in dying laughter as the crowd dipped and slowed, pausing for a halted and collective breath. The room around them went dark, dust gathered on their shoulders as they were blanketed in webs of time and nothing but the wind of the forgotten whistled through the ballroom. There was a coldness within the room. The kind that only came from a deep buried memory that wasn’t supposed to see the light of day. But this was the beginning. Not for me, but for //him.// It was where he had to travel back to in order to trace each step forward. I hoped he tripped and fell along the way. Slowly, the dancers faded, decaying into ash to reveal a large tank in the middle of the room, the water glowing a faint azure as a shadow swam within. The outline of a woman twisted and writhed as she struck out, trying to break free from the viscous liquid born of cruelty and deceit. A haunting tune was pressed to her lips but her voice was far gone from this memory and thought. Her tail slapped against the glass in an effort to escape as blood began to fill the tank and the water sloshed from up top to stain the floor crimson, sending crashing waves of a blood tainted sea throughout the room. Up above, the chandelier shuddered, the lights flipping back on to chase away the horror, and below, the dancers were alive again. Laughing through tear stained masks as they continued their eternal dance. The tank was no more. [[Next|Intro 1]] I sat upon the balcony, my head tipped to the side. Memories had a certain potency to them. A power that most did not understand. Knowing what to look for was what was key here. Though, this memory had far less to do with me and far more to do with the man weaving through the dancers, peering beneath their masks before shoving them away. He walked across the room with curled shoes and bells jangling from his own cracked mask. He mumbled to himself, small words escaping him as he dug through the broken life around him. “Still looking, Taliesin?” My voice rose high above the music, reaching out to claw at the man below. He looked up, a small smile curling over his lips. Time passed in such a strange way here. There was really no telling how long he had been digging through the murky depths of the Inbetween. But it was showing on the surface of his mask. Small cracks began to web through the white ivory, cutting through with cobwebs as he was fading into nothingness. “Ah,” he said, straightening before folding his body in a flourishing bow. “The Night Market. And to what do I owe this visit from you now?” It had been a dance between him and I. A push and pull that never changed. But I could see it in the way his body jerked that he was not faring as well as I. Pushing myself off from the balcony above, I floated down seamlessly to the smoke filled floor, feeling the memories curl around my ankles. “This isn’t mine,” I said, looking around the room. The Inbetween was made of the collective experience of everyone within the Night Market. Thoughts were contained here, filling the world with a fleeting capacity to keep all secrets dear. I had been following Taliesin around as he crawled his way through most of them, searching for something deep within my own psyche. But this one, I knew was not one of my own. “It is not,” he agreed. “Then whose is it?” “You tell me. This is the Night Market. Your domain, is it not? Tsk tsk, love. Perhaps you need to learn to have more control over your world.” I smirked, knowing by now how he prodded and what it felt like when he was grasping at straws. “You haven’t found what you are looking for, Hynsin. I believe I have plenty of control.” The frustration was mounting. I could feel it in the way the air thickened. “Don’t you have something else to do?” he asked sweetly. “Like, save yourself? You cannot believe Milo has actually succeeded in doing so. You are still ripping apart at the seams.” I could feel it of course. The way my muscles felt as if they were ripping apart. How my body faded into nothing occasionally as the pain overcame me. [[Play it cool]] [[Tell him how much pain you are in]] [[If he was so concerned, why didn’t he help in the beginning]] The last thing I was going to do, however, was tell Taliesin Hynsin that he was right. Any credence I could lend to his actions being just would never slip from my mouth. I was honestly ready to let myself rip apart rather than give him the satisfaction. “I don’t know, Hynsin. I feel just fine.” I held up my hand, unblemished and whole. Twisted it around as if it would somehow showcase how intact I really was. What he didn’t see was the scar across my chest. Or the way that I sometimes doubled over in pain as a door tried to force itself open but could not. “Sure you are,” he grinned. “Because Milo Next is a fount at magical spells. Do you know I had to practically hold that boy's hand through the ritual? I’m surprised he was even able to pull it off in the end.” “I believe he succeeded well enough. If only because you were going to make sure he did so you were given more time to search for whatever it is you are looking for. So, I actually feel quite confident that I have plenty of time to follow you around until I decide what my next move is.” The tank flashed, a scream rising from the past as a man threw himself at the bloody depths of the water, cradling a lifeless form in his arms. Taliesin didn’t flinch and as I walked forward, I saw only that wry amusement. The kind his mask was adept at covering up. “All you had to do was ask me,” I repeated. “Do you know what form chose to step into the market this time? The heart. I was the heart of my being. I would have helped. But now?” I looked him up and down. “Well, now you can wander in here forever. Because even if you do find what you are here for? I’m not letting you back out, Taliesin. As far as I’m concerned, you can rot in here. May my sister take you.” The ballroom began to fade. One by one the dancers slipped away into the void and the room became the murky and colorless depths that were the paths of the market itself. Devoid of life. Devoid of love. And certainly devoid of whatever it was Taliesin needed. “Well,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ll be seeing you, market dear. Mainly because I’m rooting around in your mind and doubtless the time will come when I stumble across something you do not wish for me to see." [[Shake your head sadly at him]] [[Tell him you look forward to your next meeting]] [[Flip him off]] I wasn’t going to lie. I had never been very good at it. And really, if Taliesin Hynsin was stuck in here with me, maybe there was a way we could work together. Help each other achieve both our goals. “I think Milo was able to stem the bleeding,” I said, “but the spell did not go through like it should have.” I could feel the doors trying to open and tear me apart. The biggest left me gasping in pain. But whatever Milo had done had stopped them from opening on their own accord. Saving me, yes. But still not a solution to the overall problem. Taliesin’s laughter rang out through the spectral ballroom. “If you think he did anything good for you, you are as naive as the construct you had wandering the streets.” “I believe he succeeded well enough. If only because you were going to make sure he did so you were given more time to search for whatever it is you are looking for. So, I actually feel quite confident that I have plenty of time to follow you around until I decide what my next move is.” The tank flashed, a scream rising from the past as a man threw himself at the bloody depths of the water, cradling a lifeless form in his arms. Taliesin didn’t flinch and as I walked forward, I saw only that wry amusement. The kind his mask was adept at covering up. “All you had to do was ask me,” I repeated. “Do you know what form chose to step into the market this time? The heart. I was the heart of my being. I would have helped. But now?” I looked him up and down. “Well, now you can wander in here forever. Because even if you do find what you are here for? I’m not letting you back out, Taliesin. As far as I’m concerned, you can rot in here. May my sister take you.” The ballroom began to fade. One by one the dancers slipped away into the void and the room became the murky and colorless depths that were the paths of the market itself. Devoid of life. Devoid of love. And certainly devoid of whatever it was Taliesin needed. “Well,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ll be seeing you, market dear. Mainly because I’m rooting around in your mind and doubtless the time will come when I stumble across something you do not wish for me to see." [[Shake your head sadly at him]] [[Tell him you look forward to your next meeting]] [[Flip him off]] There was a bit of irony that came with it all. Him telling me that Milo had failed and yet his entire plan hinged on his success. “If you are so concerned about me, why not help in the first place?” I asked. “The end of me does mean the end of you.” “Oh, but I did help, you silly market you,” he said with a tight smile. “I just did not help in the way that you or dear Milo needed. Self-serving individuals rarely do. You see, I do not care if you live or if you die. I just need you to hold on long enough for me to enact my plans. After that, you can rot away within your mortal body or explode like a dying star in the universe as a whole. It is romantic no matter which way you look at it.” I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to read between the lines. With men like Taliesin, things were rarely as they seemed. In fact, I’d wager whatever game he was playing was still unveiling itself. Until I knew what he was looking for, there may not have been much of a point to talking to him. Maybe he was not desperate enough. Not yet. Maybe I needed to let him stew longer. “Here’s the thing, Taliesin. You could have just asked. Given who I am, I would have helped. But instead, you believe in taking what you want by force. By trusting the cruel selfish nature of your own actions instead of asking for help. You took an innocent man and twisted his fear to your advantage. You took me, someone who remembered nothing, and took advantage of that. And what has it gotten you? A ghostly image of yourself walking through memories who care very little about you.” The tank flashed, a scream rising from the past as a man threw himself at the bloody depths of the water, cradling a lifeless form in his arms. Taliesin didn’t flinch and as I walked forward, I saw only that wry amusement. The kind his mask was adept at covering up. “All you had to do was ask me,” I repeated. “Do you know what form chose to step into the market this time? The heart. I was the heart of my being. I would have helped. But now?” I looked him up and down. “Well, now you can wander in here forever. Because even if you do find what you are here for? I’m not letting you back out, Taliesin. As far as I’m concerned, you can rot in here. May my sister take you.” The ballroom began to fade. One by one the dancers slipped away into the void and the room became the murky and colorless depths that were the paths of the market itself. Devoid of life. Devoid of love. And certainly devoid of whatever it was Taliesin needed. “Well,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ll be seeing you, market dear. Mainly because I’m rooting around in your mind and doubtless the time will come when I stumble across something you do not wish for me to see." [[Shake your head sadly at him]] [[Tell him you look forward to your next meeting]] [[Flip him off]] I shook my head sadly at the man. Unsure if what I was feeling was due to his pain or due to my own. Either way, I knew it was far from over with him. Because he was right. He was part of me now. More so than he’d ever been. And until he found what he was searching for, I doubt he would leave. “Ta, love,” he called out, ignoring me. The market walls spread apart with a wave of his hand before closing in behind him. Part of me hated the moments where we parted ways. The silence that came with such a departure. The loneliness. While this world was mine, while it was //me//, I couldn’t help but feel a certain dissatisfaction. To come from a world so vibrant and full of life and to just return to this existence once more? I hadn’t realized how difficult something like that was bound to be. [[Next|Intro 2]]“You know what? I look forward to our next meeting,” I told him. “Maybe we could learn something from each other.” The bitter part of me said I would just be happy to see his slow descent into further madness. The other part of me wondered if he would let me help the further he failed. “Ta, love,” he called out, ignoring me. The market walls spread apart with a wave of his hand before closing in behind him. Part of me hated the moments where we parted ways. The silence that came with such a departure. The loneliness. While this world was mine, while it was //me//, I couldn’t help but feel a certain dissatisfaction. To come from a world so vibrant and full of life and to just return to this existence once more? I hadn’t realized how difficult something like that was bound to be. [[Next|Intro 2]] I had nothing else to say to him. I doubted there was much to say to a man like that. So instead, I smiled at him sweetly, holding up both hands and giving him my middle finger. He laughed, genuinely amused for the first time that night. “Ta, love,” he called out, ignoring me. The market walls spread apart with a wave of his hand before closing in behind him. Part of me hated the moments where we parted ways. The silence that came with such a departure. The loneliness. While this world was mine, while it was //me//, I couldn’t help but feel a certain dissatisfaction. To come from a world so vibrant and full of life and to just return to this existence once more? I hadn’t realized how difficult something like that was bound to be. [[Next|Intro 2]] The world was a blank canvas. Washed in tones of muted grey, it wavered through the streets, the walls building around me and crumbling with each step I took. It was lonely here. I couldn’t remember feeling such a potent reminder of how lonely existence was. Not until I came back. And now, I was wandering the world of my making. There was no hand that was curled within my own. Not anymore. There was nothing but the satisfaction that I had done a job well done. But at a cost that may not have been worth the price. The last moments as my own self had been terrifying. It had not hurt like I expected it would, but the confusion had plagued me. As the gate opened within my chest, I couldn’t understand why or how. And as Taliesin had crawled inside, I had felt my body being pushed apart. My ribs spread. My heart pushed flat. The construct I had formed slowly breaking into pieces. <<if $miloro == "true">> And Milo’s teary eyes hovering above me, pleading with me not to go.<</if>> To be alive. It was such an untenable thing for a creature like me. Someone who had slept for so many years. Existed to serve and to save. Just for a moment though, I had obtained it. I had held life and love in my hands and it had been exhilarating. But I had been snuffed out, leaving the world dark, and casting me back here. Not a truly foreign concept but this time? Oddly, this time, I didn’t feel as at rest as I had all the times before. My body had not dissipated into the great form. My mind was still cast towards the people I left behind, and an electric itch coursed through my body, making my skin crawl. I just wanted to see them again. These liminal walls no longer felt like home. [[Next|Intro 3]] I took the steps downwards, watching as the road was laid out before me. I could hear the echoes of the selkies playing as the sea waves slapped against eroding cliffsides. I made my way out to sea, stepping below the depths, past the coral knights and into the darkness. The well of souls swam in a whirlpool of silver light. They existed in the deepest part of the world, in the darkest parts of my mind and heart. A quiet place of rest and recovery. Somewhere the dead could go for respite. Because sometimes, life went wrong. And death was nothing more than a long rest before rising and facing it all over again. At least here. As of late, however, death had felt far more final. I wondered just how many spun inside the well, waiting to return to their loved ones. I hoped more than anything the ones up top were still waiting for them. That love prevailed. Crouching down, I dipped my fingers within their depths, seeping calm into the lost souls that screamed in the night. I was supposed to fix this. So why did it seem like I had made it all so much worse? “Come to see the children?” I looked up, immediately shielding my eyes at the flickering form before me. I hissed a bit in pain. The visages of so many cracking across my mind and calling out to me to pick my favorite. “Could you settle on an image?” I asked. Death stared back at me and while I refused to meet them head on, I could feel their smile. The way it lingered around the edges. Merripen had always had that flickering way about them, settling on the form that individuals were most comfortable with. Which was great for the recently deceased but made for a headache for people like me. “Of course, old friend. Which form would you like this time around?” Death is... [[A man with dark brown hair and a skull earing][$heshe to "he"]] [[A woman with long braids threaded in gold][$heshe to "she"]] She settled on a tall woman with twisted braids down her back dipped in gold. White, irredescent marks dotted beneath her dark eyes, her bronze skin flecked with swirling design. “Better?” She sashayed towards me, the wrap around her hips lying loose and low. “Yes,” I said, blinking at her with a sigh. I could at least focus on this one. Walking towards me, she knelt by my side, dark eyes cast into the silver. “The well is getting too full,” she commented. “Stop taking lives then.” “I do not take them, my dear friend. I give them a home until they are ready to walk your realm again. But,” she raised a brow at me. “They do not seem all that ready to join your world like they once had. I thought you were to fix that.” “I thought so, too,” I said irritably. We sat in silence for a moment, staring down into the dead and watching as they endlessly swam. Some languid. Some struggling to survive. Such a metaphor for life. “Tea?” she asked, standing and dusting off her skirt. “I hear you came quite accustomed to that while taking your jaunt across your body. Or is it kafe you like now?” “Whatever you have is fine?" “Are you sure?” She raised a brow towards me in question. “My tastes have not changed that much.” “Oh? So you were always an innocent little duckling, imprinting on very powerful people like you needed their protection?” “Funny,” I told her. “I thought so.” The gondola formed around us, spectral hands reaching up to hand me my tea. A bone carved cup sat in the palm of my hand. Apparently Pen was really leaning into the death aesthetic this week. As the boat was carried out into the middle of the whirlpool, the wisp filled souls floating around us like stars, I sipped at my tea. Even that did not taste like it should. Instead of a comforting warmth it was nothing more than a twisted bit of nostalgia that could never truly be touched. “Oh, my dear friend. What exactly happened?” [[I fell in love with a vampire (belladonna romance)]] [[I fell in love with an angel (gabriel romance)]] [[I fell in love with a witch (hazel romance)]] [[I fell in love with a Gatekeeper (milo romance)]] [[I fell in love with a vampire and an angel (bella/gabe poly)]] [[I made a lot of friends (platonic)]] <<set $pen to "female">> <<set $heshe to "she">> <<set $hisher to "her">> <<set $HeShe to "She">> <<set $himher to "her">> <<set $HisHer to "Her">> He settled on a mop of dark brown hair and a lanky form. Today he wore a pinstripe suit with no shoes and a gold chain dangling from his wrist. A jade skull dangled from his ear. “Better?” He winked at me with a wide set smile, flashing a grin of pearly teeth. “Yes,” I said, blinking at him with a sigh. I could at least focus on this one. Walking towards me, he knelt by my side, dark eyes cast into the silver. “The well is getting too full,” he commented. “Stop taking lives then.” “I do not take them, my dear friend. I give them a home until they are ready to walk your realm again. But,” he raised a brow at me. “They do not seem all that ready to join your world like they once had. I thought you were to fix that.” “I thought so, too,” I said irritably. We sat in silence for a moment, staring down into the dead and watching as they endlessly swam. Some languid. Some struggling to survive. Such a metaphor for life. “Tea?” he asked, standing and dusting off his trousers. “I hear you came quite accustomed to that while taking your jaunt across your body. Or is it kafe you like now?” “Whatever you have is fine?" “Are you sure?” he asked with a grin. “My tastes have not changed that much.” “Oh? So you were always an innocent little duckling, imprinting on very powerful people like you needed their protection?” “Funny,” I told him. “I thought so.” The gondola formed around us, spectral hands reaching up to hand me my tea. A bone carved cup sat in the palm of my hand. Apparently Pen was really leaning into the death aesthetic this week. As the boat was carried out into the middle of the whirlpool, the wisp filled souls floating around us like stars, I sipped at my tea. Even that did not taste like it should. Instead of a comforting warmth it was nothing more than a twisted bit of nostalgia that could never truly be touched. “Oh, my dear friend. What exactly happened?” [[I fell in love with a vampire (belladonna romance)]] [[I fell in love with an angel (gabriel romance)]] [[I fell in love with a witch (hazel romance)]] [[I fell in love with a Gatekeeper (milo romance)]] [[I fell in love with a vampire and an angel (bella/gabe poly)]] [[I made a lot of friends (platonic)]] <<set $pen to "male">> <<set $heshe to "he">> <<set $hisher to "his">> <<set $HeShe to "He">> <<set $himher to "him">> <<set $HisHer to "His">><<if $pen == "male">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I made a lot of friends while I was up there,” I confessed. “Far more than I thought possible. And I miss them.” “I don’t know if I should be jealous,” Pen laughed. Oddly enough, he did look a bit hurt by it. Death never could leave their domain. And they weren’t exactly a friend, despite Pen being a wonderful conversationalist. “It was just different,” I assured him. “Different or not, I’m glad you made friends.” He settled her hand against mine, giving it a squeeze. “Although, that is also not what I was referring to.” I startled, frowning a bit as he pulled his hand away. He remained close, however. Eternity flashing in his eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told him. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood. <<elseif $pen == "female">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I made a lot of friends while I was up there,” I confessed. “Far more than I thought possible. And I miss them.” “I don’t know if I should be jealous,” Pen laughed. Oddly enough, she did look a bit hurt by it. Death never could leave their domain. And they weren’t exactly a friend, despite Pen being a wonderful conversationalist. “It was just different,” I assured her. “Different or not, I’m glad you made friends.” She settled her hand against mine, giving it a squeeze. “Although, that is also not what I was referring to.” I startled, frowning a bit as she pulled her hand away. She remained close, however. Eternity flashing in her eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told her. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood.<</if>> [[I wanted to experience life]] [[I wanted to experience love]] [[I wanted to save myself and others]] <<set $platonic to "true">> <<set $RO to "Malcolm">> <<set $Ro to "Malcolm">><<if $pen == "male">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a vampire and an angel,” I told him, fighting the urge to put my face in my hands. Belladonna and Gabriel. An unlikely pair and yet the very people I wanted around me at that very moment. “Ah, and do they love each other or is this a secret affair?” Pen asked. I shot him a glare. "They are aware of my feelings. I don’t do secrets, Pen.” “Your very existence is a secret, so that’s new to me." “You’re not funny.” “I’m in fact hilarious, Wanderer. Also, while I love the insight into your very important love life, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in his eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told him. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood. <<elseif $pen == "female">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a vampire and an angel,” I told her, fighting the urge to put my face in my hands. Belladonna and Gabriel. An unlikely pair and yet the very people I wanted around me at that very moment. “Ah, and do they love each other or is this a secret affair?” Pen asked. I shot her a glare. "They are aware of my feelings. I don’t do secrets, Pen.” “Your very existence is a secret, so that’s new to me." “You’re not funny.” “I’m in fact hilarious, Wanderer. Also, while I love the insight into your very important love life, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in her eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told her. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood.<</if>> [[I wanted to experience life]] [[I wanted to experience love]] [[I wanted to save myself and others]] <<set $gbpoly to "true">> <<set $RO to "Belladonna and Gabriel">> <<set $Ro to "Belladonna and Gabriel">><<if $pen == "male">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a Gatekeeper,” I told him miserably. “Which one?” he snorted. I narrowed my eyes at him over the rim of my cup. “You’re not funny.” “I’m in fact hilarious, Wanderer. Also, while I love the insight into your very important love life, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in his eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told him. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood. <<elseif $pen == "female">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a Gatekeeper,” I told her miserably. “Which one?” she snorted. I narrowed my eyes at her over the rim of my cup. “You’re not funny.” “I’m in fact hilarious, Wanderer. Also, while I love the insight into your very important love life, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in her eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told her. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood.<</if>> [[I wanted to experience life]] [[I wanted to experience love]] [[I wanted to save myself and others]] <<set $miloro to "true">> <<set $RO to "Milo">> <<set $Ro to "Milo">><<if $pen == "male">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a witch,” I told him, trying to grasp onto the memory of Hazel’s sweet smile. The warmth that would have filled me just by having her in my arms or being in hers. “A witch?” he asked with a surprised little chuckle. “Careful, my friend. They are by far the ones who can steal your heart the easiest.” I believed him. Because honestly, I thought Hazel may have already done so. I looked up as Pen snorted at my expression. “Oho, you are a gonner, my friend. A right gonner.” “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Not that it matters now.” “While I would love to address that particularly bit of depression with you, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in his eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told him. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood. <<elseif $pen == "female">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a witch,” I told her, trying to grasp onto the memory of Hazel’s sweet smile. The warmth that would have filled me just by having her in my arms or being in hers. “A witch?” she asked with a surprised little chuckle. “Careful, my friend. They are by far the ones who can steal your heart the easiest.” I believed her. Because honestly, I thought Hazel may have already done so. I looked up as Pen snorted at my expression. “Oho, you are a gonner, my friend. A right gonner.” “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Not that it matters now.” “While I would love to address that particularly bit of depression with you, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in her eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told her. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood.<</if>> [[I wanted to experience life]] [[I wanted to experience love]] [[I wanted to save myself and others]] <<set $hazelro to "true">> <<set $RO to "Hazel">> <<set $Ro to "Hazel">><<if $pen == "male">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with an angel,” I told him sadly. I worried about Gabriel. How he would take all of this. His vow to protect me had never been one he was going to be able to fulfill. “A fallen, I’m assuming. Since the Knowing locked their doors to us.” I nodded. “And the Warden of the market.” Pen whistled lowly. “Well, you know how to pick them. But,” he gestured to the tea in front of us, prompting me to pour. “That was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in his eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told him. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood. <<elseif $pen == "female">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with an angel,” I told her sadly. I worried about Gabriel. How he would take all of this. His vow to protect me had never been one he was going to be able to fulfill. “A fallen, I’m assuming. Since the Knowing locked their doors to us.” I nodded. “And the Warden of the market.” Pen whistled lowly. “Well, you know how to pick them. But,” she gestured to the tea in front of us, prompting me to pour. “That was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in her eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told her. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood.<</if>> [[I wanted to experience life]] [[I wanted to experience love]] [[I wanted to save myself and others]] <<set $gabrielro to "true">> <<set $RO to "Gabriel">> <<set $Ro to "Gabriel">><<if $pen == "male">>Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a vampire,” I told them, my voice low as I cast my thoughts towards the fiery redhead who had captured my heart. “Kinky.” “Surprisingly not,” I said, trying not to let the bitterness tinge my voice. “We didn’t get a lot of chance to, well, you know.” “Died without experiencing the bite?” he whistled lowly. “Now that is a right shame.” “Thanks.” “However, as much as my heart aches for you there, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in his eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told him. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood. <<elseif $pen == "female">> Leaning back, I looked up at the tendrils of light sweeping across the darkness. The boat raced gently beneath us and the waterfall of the deceased looked as if it were rushing down towards the pool below. “I fell in love with a vampire,” I told her, my voice low as I cast my thoughts towards the fiery redhead who had captured my heart. “Kinky.” “Surprisingly not,” I said, trying not to let the bitterness tinge my voice. “We didn’t get a lot of chance to, well, you know.” “Died without experiencing the bite?” she whistled lowly. “Now that is a right shame.” “Thanks.” “However, as much as my heart aches for you there, that was not what I was all that concerned about.” Leaning forward, I watched eternity flash in her eyes. “The well is still overflowing. The Darkness is still approaching. And you, while not actively dying anymore, are still very, very sick. I thought the point of going up there was to fix that.” In part, it had been. I had been dying and with my demise, the rest of the world would fall along with it. But, in truth, while I was wishing to save my own self, I also had wanted to //feel//. To for once understand what it was I was saving. I had never gone to the market before to love. To make connections. An integral part of living I had been missing until now. “I’m not sure all of what happened,” I told her. “Want to start from the beginning? Because one day, you and I are having a lovely conversation about how not to have your entire being torn in two and the next thing I know, this wide eyed version of you is wandering the Deep.” Where had it all done wrong? I felt the pull. The spell Milo conducted when he went to drag me forward. He of course had gotten several key aspects of that spell wrong. Without my interference he would have pulled forth a glorified paper weight. I really would have died then. But prior to that, there was more. There was this desire that had never filled me before. The desire to simply //live//. I had watched for most of my life how everyone interacted with one another. My entire sense of being was and had always been made up of memories. Of love. Of birth. Of friends holding hands under the table. Of enemies meeting on the same side. Of simple things like a child learning to climb a tree for the first time. Or an adult succeeding in a venture they had worked all their life for. The joy and the sorrow, the good and the bad. I was someone that had seen it all. Who had to watch it all. But not once did I get to experience it. So, when Milo conducted his failed spell, I came down. I knew it would end. I knew that what he was doing would roll into a single moment where my magic burst from me to seal the sky and close the gates. I just hadn’t considered what that would mean. Because until recently, living had been something I occasionally did during bouts of waking. But truly living, understanding what it was like to be in a world with nothing but what you reached out and obtained? That I had not understood.<</if>> [[I wanted to experience life]] [[I wanted to experience love]] [[I wanted to save myself and others]] <<set $bellaro to "true">> <<set $belladonnaro to "true">> <<set $RO to "Belladonna">> <<set $Ro to "Belladonna">><<if $pen == "male">>I had wanted to experience life. For once, I did not want to be an outsider just looking in. Despite knowing it would end, I had still gone through with it. Simply because death was a part of that experience and I had welcomed it without consideration. And now? Now I longed for it to have not ended so quickly. “I thought I would gain insight,” I told Pen. “Going down and live like others. Understand better what it is I want to save and perhaps find a better way to go about it.” “So you wanted to save the world and also have your cake too?” “It was more of a kill two birds with one stone situation. Save me and the ones who live within the market, and also get the opportunity to fall for someone completely.” Saying it now made me feel like a fool. In the end, it was a clear nod to just how much I did not understand about life. “My dear Wanderer,” Pen began. “I am all for the living experience. I myself like to toil in it from time to time. But you cannot let it keep you in such a state.” “And what state is that?” Leaning forward, he tapped at where my heart should have been. It was a hollow cavity now, bearing the scars of my final moments. “Melancholy,” he said. I startled a bit. “I’m not melancholic.” “You’ve been stalking a goblin through memories and wandering the streets aimlessly. It’s depressing. Stop.” Around him, the souls moaned in agreement. <<elseif $pen == "female">>I had wanted to experience life. For once, I did not want to be an outsider just looking in. Despite knowing it would end, I had still gone through with it. Simply because death was a part of that experience and I had welcomed it without consideration. And now? Now I longed for it to have not ended so quickly. “I thought I would gain insight,” I told Pen. “Going down and live like others. Understand better what it is I want to save and perhaps find a better way to go about it.” “So you wanted to save the world and also have your cake too?” “It was more of a kill two birds with one stone situation. Save me and the ones who live within the market, and also get the opportunity to fall for someone completely.” Saying it now made me feel like a fool. In the end, it was a clear nod to just how much I did not understand about life. “My dear Wanderer,” Pen began. “I am all for the living experience. I myself like to toil in it from time to time. But you cannot let it keep you in such a state.” “And what state is that?” Leaning forward, she tapped at where my heart should have been. It was a hollow cavity now, bearing the scars of my final moments. “Melancholy,” she said. I startled a bit. “I’m not melancholic.” “You’ve been stalking a goblin through memories and wandering the streets aimlessly. It’s depressing. Stop.” Around her, the souls moaned in agreement.<</if>> [[I was killed, Pen]] [[I miss the people I had come to know]] [[I just don’t know what to do anymore]]<<if $pen == "male">>I had wanted to experience love. Not just the love I had for the people I housed or the ones I saved. But personal love for another. A friend. A confidant. Someone who needed me and I needed in return. There was something so powerful about love. It was this elusive feeling that had felt completely out of my grasp. I had come down to find it. To experience. For a brief moment, hold it within my palm. I had not considered how it would feel to have it crumble to dust. Or what it would mean to be away from that person when it was all done. “I thought I would gain insight,” I told Pen. “Going down to find love, I thought I would understand why everyone did so much for it.” “And what does that have to do with saving the world?” “It was more of a kill two birds with one stone situation. Save me and the ones who live within the market, and also get the opportunity to fall for someone completely.” Saying it now made me feel like a fool. In the end, it was a clear nod to just how much I did not understand about life. “My dear Wanderer,” Pen began. “I am all for the living experience. I myself like to toil in it from time to time. But you cannot let it keep you in such a state.” “And what state is that?” Leaning forward, he tapped at where my heart should have been. It was a hollow cavity now, bearing the scars of my final moments. “Melancholy,” he said. I startled a bit. “I’m not melancholic.” “You’ve been stalking a goblin through memories and wandering the streets aimlessly. It’s depressing. Stop.” Around him, the souls moaned in agreement.<<elseif $pen == "female">>I had wanted to experience love. Not just the love I had for the people I housed or the ones I saved. But personal love for another. A friend. A confidant. Someone who needed me and I needed in return. There was something so powerful about love. It was this elusive feeling that had felt completely out of my grasp. I had come down to find it. To experience. For a brief moment, hold it within my palm. I had not considered how it would feel to have it crumble to dust. Or what it would mean to be away from that person when it was all done. “I thought I would gain insight,” I told Pen. “Going down to find love, I thought I would understand why everyone did so much for it.” “And what does that have to do with saving the world?” “It was more of a kill two birds with one stone situation. Save me and the ones who live within the market, and also get the opportunity to fall for someone completely.” Saying it now made me feel like a fool. In the end, it was a clear nod to just how much I did not understand about life. “My dear Wanderer,” Pen began. “I am all for the living experience. I myself like to toil in it from time to time. But you cannot let it keep you in such a state.” “And what state is that?” Leaning forward, she tapped at where my heart should have been. It was a hollow cavity now, bearing the scars of my final moments. “Melancholy,” she said. I startled a bit. “I’m not melancholic.” “You’ve been stalking a goblin through memories and wandering the streets aimlessly. It’s depressing. Stop.” Around her, the souls moaned in agreement.<</if>> [[I was killed, Pen]] [[I miss the people I had come to know]] [[I just don’t know what to do anymore]]<<if $pen == "male">>I had wanted to save myself and others. Was Milo’s way the best in succeeding in my goals? Absolutely not. I doubted he even believed it to be the best course of action. But it was one of the only ones given to us at the moment and had bought us more time. “I saw an opportunity,” I explained to Pen. “And I took it. And technically, it has kind of worked.” “Has it? The gates are closed. Can you force them open again?” I hadn’t actually tried. The random opening of all the gates had seemed to be a detriment to me but a savior to others. I hadn’t gotten the tingle I used to get either. Then again, while I was home, it was clear I was not fully connected to myself either. I doubted I’d still be walking around in this human like construct if I was. “My dear Wanderer,” Pen began. “I am all for the living experience. I myself like to toil in it from time to time. But you cannot let it keep you in such a state.” “And what state is that?” Leaning forward, he tapped at where my heart should have been. It was a hollow cavity now, bearing the scars of my final moments. “Melancholy,” he said. I startled a bit. “I’m not melancholic.” “You’ve been stalking a goblin through memories and wandering the streets aimlessly. It’s depressing. Stop.” Around him, the souls moaned in agreement. <<elseif $pen == "female">>I had wanted to save myself and others. Was Milo’s way the best in succeeding in my goals? Absolutely not. I doubted he even believed it to be the best course of action. But it was one of the only ones given to us at the moment and had bought us more time. “I saw an opportunity,” I explained to Pen. “And I took it. And technically, it has kind of worked.” “Has it? The gates are closed. Can you force them open again?” I hadn’t actually tried. The random opening of all the gates had seemed to be a detriment to me but a savior to others. I hadn’t gotten the tingle I used to get either. Then again, while I was home, it was clear I was not fully connected to myself either. I doubted I’d still be walking around in this human like construct if I was. “My dear Wanderer,” Pen began. “I am all for the living experience. I myself like to toil in it from time to time. But you cannot let it keep you in such a state.” “And what state is that?” Leaning forward, she tapped at where my heart should have been. It was a hollow cavity now, bearing the scars of my final moments. “Melancholy,” she said. I startled a bit. “I’m not melancholic.” “You’ve been stalking a goblin through memories and wandering the streets aimlessly. It’s depressing. Stop.” Around her, the souls moaned in agreement.<</if>> [[I was killed, Pen]] [[I miss the people I had come to know]] [[I just don’t know what to do anymore]]<<if $pen == "male">>“I was killed, Pen. I think I’m allowed to be a bit melancholy.” “Oh, come off it. You said it yourself, you knew what it meant to go walk those streets and you knew what was going to happen. You just didn’t understand that it would actually be a bit more emotionally complicated. Thus is the plight of beings like us who understand very little of what it is to //live//.” I looked away, feeling a sting withing my chest. “That doesn’t take away the sentiment.” “So a person who knowingly walks through fire gets to be upset?” he asked “At the person who shoved them into the flames, maybe.” “Ah," he mused. “So a person who knowingly walks through fire gets to be upset at the person who started it.” “I– yes? No. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Leaning forward, he tipped a finger under my chin. “I think you are making it complicated, mon cheri. I //think// you went there without thinking because the thrill of life and love and everything in between was tempting. And then it ended before you were ready and now you are sad about it all. But guess what is a big part of the living experience. Pain. You do not grow without it. You do not flourish. And you certainly do not appreciate the good without the bad.” I dipped my head. “But the bad feels really bad at times,” I confessed. “But how good did the good feel?” Euphoric. Life changing. Enough to make me want to go back. When I looked up, Pen was smiling. “The living are such strange, creatures, are they not? You would think that beings like you and I would want nothing to do with them. They smell, they are kind of idiotic, and they are squashed out like a bug more often than not.” “And yet,” I said with a sigh. “I think they might be the better species.” “Absolutely they are.” Scooting over, Pen tossed the rest of the tea service into the well below. He came to sit by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “So what are you going to do about it, my depressed little monkey.”<<elseif $pen == "female">>“I was killed, Pen. I think I’m allowed to be a bit melancholy.” “Oh, come off it. You said it yourself, you knew what it meant to go walk those streets and you knew what was going to happen. You just didn’t understand that it would actually be a bit more emotionally complicated. Thus is the plight of beings like us who understand very little of what it is to //live//.” I looked away, feeling a sting withing my chest. “That doesn’t take away the sentiment.” “So a person who knowingly walks through fire gets to be upset?” she asked “At the person who shoved them into the flames, maybe.” “Ah," she mused. “So a person who knowingly walks through fire gets to be upset at the person who started it.” “I– yes? No. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Leaning forward, she tipped a finger under my chin. “I think you are making it complicated, mon cheri. I //think// you went there without thinking because the thrill of life and love and everything in between was tempting. And then it ended before you were ready and now you are sad about it all. But guess what is a big part of the living experience. Pain. You do not grow without it. You do not flourish. And you certainly do not appreciate the good without the bad.” I dipped my head. “But the bad feels really bad at times,” I confessed. “But how good did the good feel?” Euphoric. Life changing. Enough to make me want to go back. When I looked up, Pen was smiling. “The living are such strange, creatures, are they not? You would think that beings like you and I would want nothing to do with them. They smell, they are kind of idiotic, and they are squashed out like a bug more often than not.” “And yet,” I said with a sigh. “I think they might be the better species.” “Absolutely they are.” Scooting over, Pen tossed the rest of the tea service into the well below. She came to sit by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “So what are you going to do about it, my depressed little monkey.”<</if>> [[Lean into their comfort]] [[Shove them away]] [[Settle on one nickname]]<<if $pen == "male">>“I miss the people I had come to know,” I told him. “They were //good// people, Pen. Doesn’t that deserve a bit of melancholy?” “I suppose,” he stated. “Though, that is operating under the assumption that you will never see them again.” “If the world ends I will not,” I pointed out. “If you are so concerned about the world ending then having tea with me and my dead chickadee’s is probably not the place to be.” Leaning forward, he tipped a finger under my chin. “Come now. You are the Night Market. Power beyond power. Will you be continuing to wallow? Or do you plan to do something about it all?” Do something. It was without a doubt that that was the route I would take. But what that something was remained unseen. When I looked up, Pen was smiling. “The living are such strange, creatures, are they not? You would think that beings like you and I would want nothing to do with them. They smell, they are kind of idiotic, and they are squashed out like a bug more often than not.” “And yet,” I said with a sigh. “I think they might be the better species.” “Absolutely they are.” Scooting over, Pen tossed the rest of the tea service into the well below. He came to sit by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “So what are you going to do about it, my depressed little monkey.”<<elseif $pen == "female">>“I miss the people I had come to know,” I told him. “They were //good// people, Pen. Doesn’t that deserve a bit of melancholy?” “I suppose,” she stated. “Though, that is operating under the assumption that you will never see them again.” “If the world ends I will not,” I pointed out. “If you are so concerned about the world ending then having tea with me and my dead chickadee’s is probably not the place to be.” Leaning forward, she tipped a finger under my chin. “Come now. You are the Night Market. Power beyond power. Will you be continuing to wallow? Or do you plan to do something about it all?” Do something. It was without a doubt that that was the route I would take. But what that something was remained unseen. When I looked up, Pen was smiling. “The living are such strange, creatures, are they not? You would think that beings like you and I would want nothing to do with them. They smell, they are kind of idiotic, and they are squashed out like a bug more often than not.” “And yet,” I said with a sigh. “I think they might be the better species.” “Absolutely they are.” Scooting over, Pen tossed the rest of the tea service into the well below. She came to sit by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “So what are you going to do about it, my depressed little monkey.”<</if>> [[Lean into their comfort]] [[Shove them away]] [[Settle on one nickname]]<<if $pen == "male">>“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” I said with a sigh. “Things did not exactly work out as I had planned.” “You went down there as the heart of your world,” he laughed. “I do not think you planned a damn thing.” I shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t wrong. I had not thought once about what it would be like to return. I certainly had not thought about the ones I would leave behind. I had merely assumed if I went down and partook in this ritual, then we would be able to stave off the oncoming destruction. It was the first step to actually protecting the world. Very little thought went into anything else. When I looked up, Pen was smiling. “The living are such strange, creatures, are they not? You would think that beings like you and I would want nothing to do with them. They smell, they are kind of idiotic, and they are squashed out like a bug more often than not.” “And yet,” I said with a sigh. “I think they might be the better species.” “Absolutely they are.” Scooting over, Pen tossed the rest of the tea service into the well below. He came to sit by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “So what are you going to do about it, my depressed little monkey.” <<elseif $pen == "female">>“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” I said with a sigh. “Things did not exactly work out as I had planned.” “You went down there as the heart of your world,” she laughed. “I do not think you planned a damn thing.” I shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t wrong. I had not thought once about what it would be like to return. I certainly had not thought about the ones I would leave behind. I had merely assumed if I went down and partook in this ritual, then we would be able to stave off the oncoming destruction. It was the first step to actually protecting the world. Very little thought went into anything else. When I looked up, Pen was smiling. “The living are such strange, creatures, are they not? You would think that beings like you and I would want nothing to do with them. They smell, they are kind of idiotic, and they are squashed out like a bug more often than not.” “And yet,” I said with a sigh. “I think they might be the better species.” “Absolutely they are.” Scooting over, Pen tossed the rest of the tea service into the well below. She came to sit by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “So what are you going to do about it, my depressed little monkey.”<</if>> [[Lean into their comfort]] [[Shove them away]] [[Settle on one nickname]]<<if $pen == "male">>“Thanks, Pen,” I murmured, leaning into his comfort. “I missed you.” “Missed you too, old friend. Missed you too.” The gondola drifted across the twisting pool of souls. I dipped my fingers within the depths, feeling the hope of life drag against my skin. Some wished to stay, others wanted to return to their loved ones. No one was going anywhere though until whatever balance that had been tipped, was fixed once more. When the boat docked, Pen helped me out, the two of us standing on the shore, looking out at the world beyond. “You should go back,” he said. “I want to but it’s not like Milo is going to attempt to fail a spell again. Not after how it ended last time.” “I wouldn’t put that past him. He’s sent many down to me and I feel he is a tenacious little shit that may never learn. But, all that being said, there are other ways. You have used other ways.” They were ways I had already contemplated. None fit but that didn’t mean I was discrediting the possibility. “Never to the degrees of success that I just experienced. I was cold before. Coming to the streets for a specific mission. I don’t ever remember feeling like I did this last time.” “Key word there is remember,” he sang. I pitched my eyes towards him. Because Pen always knew more than he let on.“Have you gone to your grave? I’m assuming they buried you at least. The living do like their rituals and the ritual of death may be older than Father Time.” I hadn’t even thought about it. After coming back, I had given little thought to my own body and spent my time thinking of the others far more. I had yet to be able to peek in on any of them, however. The walls of my own mind kept blocking me. “I guess I could go there,” I said slowly, wondering if that was the key to seeing the waking world in real time and not just in a collective memory. “You should. Never know what kind of conduit is waiting for you.” I raised a brow at him. Death of course knew exactly what was waiting for me there. “Just, this next time around,” he continued, “when you figure it out a bit more, will you come to see me? I do miss our conversations.” <<elseif $pen == "female">>“Thanks, Pen,” I murmured, leaning into her comfort. “I missed you.” “Missed you too, old friend. Missed you too.” The gondola drifted across the twisting pool of souls. I dipped my fingers within the depths, feeling the hope of life drag against my skin. Some wished to stay, others wanted to return to their loved ones. No one was going anywhere though until whatever balance that had been tipped, was fixed once more. When the boat docked, Pen helped me out, the two of us standing on the shore, looking out at the world beyond. “You should go back,” she said. “I want to but it’s not like Milo is going to attempt to fail a spell again. Not after how it ended last time.” “I wouldn’t put that past him. He’s sent many down to me and I feel he is a tenacious little shit that may never learn. But, all that being said, there are other ways. You have used other ways.” They were ways I had already contemplated. None fit but that didn’t mean I was discrediting the possibility. “Never to the degrees of success that I just experienced. I was cold before. Coming to the streets for a specific mission. I don’t ever remember feeling like I did this last time.” “Key word there is remember,” she sang. I pitched my eyes towards her. Because Pen always knew more than she let on.“Have you gone to your grave? I’m assuming they buried you at least. The living do like their rituals and the ritual of death may be older than Father Time.” I hadn’t even thought about it. After coming back, I had given little thought to my own body and spent my time thinking of the others far more. I had yet to be able to peek in on any of them, however. The walls of my own mind kept blocking me. “I guess I could go there,” I said slowly, wondering if that was the key to seeing the waking world in real time and not just in a collective memory. “You should. Never know what kind of conduit is waiting for you.” I raised a brow at her. Death of course knew exactly what was waiting for me there. “Just, this next time around,” he continued, “when you figure it out a bit more, will you come to see me? I do miss our conversations.”<</if>> [[Of course I will]] [[Do I have to die to see you]] [[I missed you the most]] Shoving them away, I listened to $himher cackle. “Get off me, Pen. No touch, remember?” <<if $miloro == "true">> “Ah, yes. That is reserved for liars and thieves now. I forgot.” <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> “Ah, yes. That is reserved now for corrupted celestials.” <<elseif $bellaro == "true">> “Ah yes. That is reserved for bloodsucking lady loves.” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> “Ah, yes. That is reserved for sweet little witches. How quaint.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “What? Everyone else seems to be able to touch. Am I not invited to your love menagerie?” he teased. “Actually, scratch that. Do not answer.” <</if>> <<if $pen == "male">>The gondola drifted across the twisting pool of souls. I dipped my fingers within the depths, feeling the hope of life drag against my skin. Some wished to stay, others wanted to return to their loved ones. No one was going anywhere though until whatever balance that had been tipped, was fixed once more. When the boat docked, Pen helped me out, the two of us standing on the shore, looking out at the world beyond. “You should go back,” he said. “I want to but it’s not like Milo is going to attempt to fail a spell again. Not after how it ended last time.” “I wouldn’t put that past him. He’s sent many down to me and I feel he is a tenacious little shit that may never learn. But, all that being said, there are other ways. You have used other ways.” They were ways I had already contemplated. None fit but that didn’t mean I was discrediting the possibility. “Never to the degrees of success that I just experienced. I was cold before. Coming to the streets for a specific mission. I don’t ever remember feeling like I did this last time.” “Key word there is remember,” he sang. I pitched my eyes towards him. Because Pen always knew more than he let on.“Have you gone to your grave? I’m assuming they buried you at least. The living do like their rituals and the ritual of death may be older than Father Time.” I hadn’t even thought about it. After coming back, I had given little thought to my own body and spent my time thinking of the others far more. I had yet to be able to peek in on any of them, however. The walls of my own mind kept blocking me. “I guess I could go there,” I said slowly, wondering if that was the key to seeing the waking world in real time and not just in a collective memory. “You should. Never know what kind of conduit is waiting for you.” I raised a brow at him. Death of course knew exactly what was waiting for me there. “Just, this next time around,” he continued, “when you figure it out a bit more, will you come to see me? I do miss our conversations.” <<elseif $pen == "female">>The gondola drifted across the twisting pool of souls. I dipped my fingers within the depths, feeling the hope of life drag against my skin. Some wished to stay, others wanted to return to their loved ones. No one was going anywhere though until whatever balance that had been tipped, was fixed once more. When the boat docked, Pen helped me out, the two of us standing on the shore, looking out at the world beyond. “You should go back,” she said. “I want to but it’s not like Milo is going to attempt to fail a spell again. Not after how it ended last time.” “I wouldn’t put that past him. He’s sent many down to me and I feel he is a tenacious little shit that may never learn. But, all that being said, there are other ways. You have used other ways.” They were ways I had already contemplated. None fit but that didn’t mean I was discrediting the possibility. “Never to the degrees of success that I just experienced. I was cold before. Coming to the streets for a specific mission. I don’t ever remember feeling like I did this last time.” “Key word there is remember,” she sang. I pitched my eyes towards her. Because Pen always knew more than she let on.“Have you gone to your grave? I’m assuming they buried you at least. The living do like their rituals and the ritual of death may be older than Father Time.” I hadn’t even thought about it. After coming back, I had given little thought to my own body and spent my time thinking of the others far more. I had yet to be able to peek in on any of them, however. The walls of my own mind kept blocking me. “I guess I could go there,” I said slowly, wondering if that was the key to seeing the waking world in real time and not just in a collective memory. “You should. Never know what kind of conduit is waiting for you.” I raised a brow at her. Death of course knew exactly what was waiting for me there. “Just, this next time around,” he continued, “when you figure it out a bit more, will you come to see me? I do miss our conversations.”<</if>> [[Of course I will]] [[Do I have to die to see you]] [[I missed you the most]]<<if $pen == "male">>“Monkey? Settle on one nickname, Pen.” “Never.” The gondola drifted across the twisting pool of souls. I dipped my fingers within the depths, feeling the hope of life drag against my skin. Some wished to stay, others wanted to return to their loved ones. No one was going anywhere though until whatever balance that had been tipped, was fixed once more. When the boat docked, Pen helped me out, the two of us standing on the shore, looking out at the world beyond. “You should go back,” he said. “I want to but it’s not like Milo is going to attempt to fail a spell again. Not after how it ended last time.” “I wouldn’t put that past him. He’s sent many down to me and I feel he is a tenacious little shit that may never learn. But, all that being said, there are other ways. You have used other ways.” They were ways I had already contemplated. None fit but that didn’t mean I was discrediting the possibility. “Never to the degrees of success that I just experienced. I was cold before. Coming to the streets for a specific mission. I don’t ever remember feeling like I did this last time.” “Key word there is remember,” he sang. I pitched my eyes towards him. Because Pen always knew more than he let on.“Have you gone to your grave? I’m assuming they buried you at least. The living do like their rituals and the ritual of death may be older than Father Time.” I hadn’t even thought about it. After coming back, I had given little thought to my own body and spent my time thinking of the others far more. I had yet to be able to peek in on any of them, however. The walls of my own mind kept blocking me. “I guess I could go there,” I said slowly, wondering if that was the key to seeing the waking world in real time and not just in a collective memory. “You should. Never know what kind of conduit is waiting for you.” I raised a brow at him. Death of course knew exactly what was waiting for me there. “Just, this next time around,” he continued, “when you figure it out a bit more, will you come to see me? I do miss our conversations.” <<elseif $pen == "female">> “Monkey? Settle on one nickname, Pen.” “Never.” The gondola drifted across the twisting pool of souls. I dipped my fingers within the depths, feeling the hope of life drag against my skin. Some wished to stay, others wanted to return to their loved ones. No one was going anywhere though until whatever balance that had been tipped, was fixed once more. When the boat docked, Pen helped me out, the two of us standing on the shore, looking out at the world beyond. “You should go back,” she said. “I want to but it’s not like Milo is going to attempt to fail a spell again. Not after how it ended last time.” “I wouldn’t put that past him. He’s sent many down to me and I feel he is a tenacious little shit that may never learn. But, all that being said, there are other ways. You have used other ways.” They were ways I had already contemplated. None fit but that didn’t mean I was discrediting the possibility. “Never to the degrees of success that I just experienced. I was cold before. Coming to the streets for a specific mission. I don’t ever remember feeling like I did this last time.” “Key word there is remember,” she sang. I pitched my eyes towards her. Because Pen always knew more than she let on.“Have you gone to your grave? I’m assuming they buried you at least. The living do like their rituals and the ritual of death may be older than Father Time.” I hadn’t even thought about it. After coming back, I had given little thought to my own body and spent my time thinking of the others far more. I had yet to be able to peek in on any of them, however. The walls of my own mind kept blocking me. “I guess I could go there,” I said slowly, wondering if that was the key to seeing the waking world in real time and not just in a collective memory. “You should. Never know what kind of conduit is waiting for you.” I raised a brow at her. Death of course knew exactly what was waiting for me there. “Just, this next time around,” he continued, “when you figure it out a bit more, will you come to see me? I do miss our conversations.”<</if>> [[Of course I will]] [[Do I have to die to see you]] [[I missed you the most]]<<if $pen == "male">>“Of course I will. I wish I had been able to do it before.” Death and life were nothing more than old intertwining friends. I didn’t think I could rid myself of him even if I tried. “I look forward to holding you to that promise,” he said, bumping his hip against mine. “Because market darling. If you don’t show, I will find you.” The souls around me wept at his tone. But when I turned to face him fully, he was already gone. <<elseif $pen == "female">>“Of course I will. I wish I had been able to do it before.” Death and life were nothing more than old intertwining friends. I didn’t think I could rid myself of her even if I tried. “I look forward to holding you to that promise,” she said, bumping $hisher hip against mine. “Because market darling. If you don’t show, I will find you.” The souls around me wept at $hisher tone. But when I turned to face her fully, she was already gone. <</if>> The graveyard was not far. I meandered a few feet forward, trying to remember if I had even set foot there while still breathing. It swam before me, a stretch of stone and clocks and sweet smelling mint. Looking around, I saw no one. The liminal space of my mind was empty yet again. The spirits were mostly all tucked away. The ones who wandered through the realm were far from this place of death. I know in the waking world it was probably far more active, but here, in the Inbetween, it was nothing more than scrambled images that appeared with each step, appearing to me only because I thought it to be so. My grave was beneath a large tree. Branches of leafy greens were hanging over the large stone, casting shadow upon me. Somewhere, I could hear the crunch of gravel. Dirt being displaced and tossed to the side. All around me, the ticking sound of clocks chimed. Across each grave laid a watch or a clock, some of which were embedded within the moss covered headstones. The indication of a return. A countdown for families to know when to expect life to bloom on the surface. But the further into the graveyard I walked, the quieter the ticks became. Until there was almost none of them. Just cheap silence altered by a time that should have never been. Crouching next to it, I read the epitaph. Lamplight A soft smile came to my lips, tinged with sadness. Of course Malcolm would be the one to bury the Night Market. My Gatekeeper. It was funny, really. He didn’t have the title and yet he was far more the Gatekeeper I knew than Milo was. For years, that man had ignored his duties, fighting them. Running from them. As he said, the job should have died with Malcolm. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Intro Milo]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Intro Milo]] <<elseif $bellaro == "true">> [[Next|Intro bella]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Intro gabriel]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Next|Intro poly]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Next|Intro Hazel]]<</if>><<if $pen == "male">>“Please tell me I don’t have to die to see you.” He laughed. It was loud and uproarious and the souls within the well joined him in thunderous amusement. When he patted me on the shoulder I noticed he was avoiding the answer. Somehow, I didn’t think I would be seeking him out as long as I was walking the mortal world. “Be seeing you, old friend. Be seeing you.” With his hands in his pockets, he turned away. Slipping back down into the purgatory miasma he watched over. <<elseif $pen == "female">> “Please tell me I don’t have to die to see you.” She laughed. It was loud and uproarious and the souls within the well joined her in thunderous amusement. When she patted me on the shoulder I noticed she was avoiding the answer. Somehow, I didn’t think I would be seeking her out as long as I was walking the mortal world. “Be seeing you, old friend. Be seeing you.” With her hands in her pockets, she turned away. Slipping back down into the purgatory miasma she watched over.<</if>> The graveyard was not far. I meandered a few feet forward, trying to remember if I had even set foot there while still breathing. It swam before me, a stretch of stone and clocks and sweet smelling mint. Looking around, I saw no one. The liminal space of my mind was empty yet again. The spirits were mostly all tucked away. The ones who wandered through the realm were far from this place of death. I know in the waking world it was probably far more active, but here, in the Inbetween, it was nothing more than scrambled images that appeared with each step, appearing to me only because I thought it to be so. My grave was beneath a large tree. Branches of leafy greens were hanging over the large stone, casting shadow upon me. Somewhere, I could hear the crunch of gravel. Dirt being displaced and tossed to the side. All around me, the ticking sound of clocks chimed. Across each grave laid a watch or a clock, some of which were embedded within the moss covered headstones. The indication of a return. A countdown for families to know when to expect life to bloom on the surface. But the further into the graveyard I walked, the quieter the ticks became. Until there was almost none of them. Just cheap silence altered by a time that should have never been. Crouching next to it, I read the epitaph. Lamplight A soft smile came to my lips, tinged with sadness. Of course Malcolm would be the one to bury the Night Market. My Gatekeeper. It was funny, really. He didn’t have the title and yet he was far more the Gatekeeper I knew than Milo was. For years, that man had ignored his duties, fighting them. Running from them. As he said, the job should have died with Malcolm. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Intro Milo]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Intro Milo]] <<elseif $bellaro == "true">> [[Next|Intro bella]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Intro gabriel]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Next|Intro poly]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Next|Intro Hazel]]<</if>><<if $pen == "male">>“Pen, I think out of everyone, I missed you the most.” “Aw, sweet. And complete bullshit since you didn’t have your memories.” Shoving me, death sent me on my way. I couldn’t help but look back over my shoulder at him. He stayed by the edge of the pool, waving at me until the world around us melted in a dripping array of monochromatic paint. <<elseif $pen == "female">>“Pen, I think out of everyone, I missed you the most.” “Aw, sweet. And complete bullshit since you didn’t have your memories.” Shoving me, death sent me on my way. I couldn’t help but look back over my shoulder at her. She stayed by the edge of the pool, waving at me until the world around us melted in a dripping array of monochromatic paint.<</if>> The graveyard was not far. I meandered a few feet forward, trying to remember if I had even set foot there while still breathing. It swam before me, a stretch of stone and clocks and sweet smelling mint. Looking around, I saw no one. The liminal space of my mind was empty yet again. The spirits were mostly all tucked away. The ones who wandered through the realm were far from this place of death. I know in the waking world it was probably far more active, but here, in the Inbetween, it was nothing more than scrambled images that appeared with each step, appearing to me only because I thought it to be so. My grave was beneath a large tree. Branches of leafy greens were hanging over the large stone, casting shadow upon me. Somewhere, I could hear the crunch of gravel. Dirt being displaced and tossed to the side. All around me, the ticking sound of clocks chimed. Across each grave laid a watch or a clock, some of which were embedded within the moss covered headstones. The indication of a return. A countdown for families to know when to expect life to bloom on the surface. But the further into the graveyard I walked, the quieter the ticks became. Until there was almost none of them. Just cheap silence altered by a time that should have never been. Crouching next to it, I read the epitaph. Lamplight A soft smile came to my lips, tinged with sadness. Of course Malcolm would be the one to bury the Night Market. My Gatekeeper. It was funny, really. He didn’t have the title and yet he was far more the Gatekeeper I knew than Milo was. For years, that man had ignored his duties, fighting them. Running from them. As he said, the job should have died with Malcolm. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Intro Milo]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Intro Milo]] <<elseif $bellaro == "true">> [[Next|Intro bella]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Intro gabriel]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Next|Intro poly]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Next|Intro Hazel]]<</if>> Sitting, I stared at the small mound. I was unsure how much time had passed. The soil did not look fresh, sprouts of grass and small white flowers bloomed from the churned dirt. A gold chain was stretched across the surface, a small pendant hanging against the face of a stopped clock. I tipped my head to the side. It was Milo’s. I remembered it now. It had hung around his neck, never having come off, even while he was asleep. Reaching out, I touched it, running my fingers across the chain and feeling a jolt rush through me. My breath caught in my chest, stinging tears into my eyes. I blinked them away rapidly, feeling my heart thud for a brief moment, echoing the life I had held. Suddenly the grass smelled stronger, the wind brushed against my cheek and the world around me bloomed with soft edges of color. “Hey, Lamplight.” I startled, twisting around to see Malcolm. He walked up the path, hands holding onto a bouquet of blue forget me nots. “Malcolm?” He didn’t say anything as he knelt by my side, laying the flowers against my grave. He couldn’t see me. He had no idea I was even there. But, I could see him. Which shouldn’t have happened. “Sorry it’s been a bit,” he said softly. “Been dealing with some things. I’m sure you have too.” It was like before, when he used to seek me out and talk to the lights. Looking up, I noticed they were all dark, however. Not a single lantern was lit and the glow that I often had observed upon the horizon was the color of pitch. It was only then that I saw the paths in the cemetery lined with fat and waxy candles. Their small flames flickering with the rise and fall of my chest. “Damn, Lamplight. I can safely say I never thought this would be what I was coming back to. Good to know that the world can still surprise me.” “Malcolm,” I tried. “Can you hear me?” Nothing. Not even a blink. “As I’m sure you know, the lanterns are still out. People are adjusting. The Warden is at his wits end but hopefully the worst of the horror has stopped. The looting and the death at least. Bella is being Bella, walking through the market like she owns it. Probably does now that she’s a Baron. Hazel is a little distant lately. I think she’s just needing to take some time to mourn you.” He paused. “Milo’s… Milo. I may be an idiot for putting any ounce of faith in him but he always was kind of my weak spot, I think. See he’s been here though.” Reaching forward, he touched the necklace. “Would recognize this damn thing anywhere. Surprised it hasn’t broke yet with how worn it is.” He laughed a little. I remembered the necklace clearly. The way it looked against Milo’s chest when he rose from the water. The feel of it against me as Milo kissed me, tongue seeking out my own. The dying gasps of a condemned man. I eyed Malcolm. Had they spoken of us? Had they even had a conversation about what happened that night? Had they even seen each other or had Milo ran deeper underground. “I know most of our relationship has been this,” Malcolm said. “Me talking. You listening. There were times where I felt like you were one of the only people who would listen to me. Oddly enough, I’m not that good of a talker. Not about myself at least. You were really the only one I felt like I could be honest with. Or I guess honest isn’t the right word. Genuine, maybe?” he rubbed a hand across his face. “Old habits die hard, right?” “Oh, Malcolm,” I whispered. So many nights had been spent listening to him feverishly speak of the things he couldn’t say anywhere else. The secrets I held about this man were vast. “I do kind of wish you were here. I got to admit, I really liked waking up to a world where our conversations weren’t one-sided anymore. Was encouraging. Thought maybe I could change a bit.” I remembered long nights when he would sit on the rooftop. He had a favorite lantern. A little azure one that hung out three roofs away from Milo’s distillery. It was above a beanery. The steam from the vats of kafe used to tinge the night air with caffeine. Looking at him now, he reminded me of those nights. Head dipped downwards in soft contemplation. The weight of the world pressing in on him. “I’ll do something about this, Lamplight. I promise.” “It shouldn’t be your responsibility,” I told him. Out of everyone I had known, Malcolm was the least involved. Until recently that is. Though he always had felt far more responsible for me than he should have. It was what made him a good Gatekeeper. It was also what was holding him back in life. “I just wish I knew what you wanted,” he confessed. “I hate pretending like I know what to do on your behalf. It’s hard to act in your name when I can barely even see you anymore.” I wished I could have given him a light. Something to let him know I was here. Before, when he had felt at his most alone, I had been able to make a light glow for him. Now, I couldn’t reach out to him. I couldn’t speak. I could do nothing but stare at the stupid necklace that hung over my grave, given to me by a man who was avoiding us both. [[Calm yourself and try to reach out to Malcolm]] [[Sit and just listen to Malcolm talk]] [[Try to swipe the necklace off the grave in anger]] Sitting, I stared at the small mound. I was unsure how much time had passed. The soil did not look fresh, sprouts of grass and small white flowers blooming from the churned dirt. There were signs of visitors but otherwise the plot was pristine. Only the soft indents of footprints gave me hope that I was being visited. Then again, I supposed I really couldn’t fault them. I had only been in their life for such a short period of time. Perhaps I wasn’t as important as I assumed. Maybe Belladonna didn’t burn the market down in my name. “Stop being dramatic.” I felt a jolt rush through me. My breath caught in my chest, stinging tears into my eyes. I blinked them away rapidly, feeling my heart thud for a brief moment, echoing the life I had held. Suddenly the grass smelled stronger, the wind brushed against my cheek and the world around me bloomed with soft edges of color. Belladonna stood near the winding oak tree, a book in her hand. She snapped it shut, the sound reverberating through the graveyard. She wore a cloak of black lace, the hood up over her hair and hiding her pale cheeks. Walking towards me, she crossed one red heel in front of the other. The folds of her robe parted with each step, exposing each long expanse of creamy thigh. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” “What was?” I asked, my throat dry. She looked down at the book and smirked. “You know, I do suppose this particular bit of diatribe does deserve complete silence.” Kneeling, she reached past me, setting the book against the gravestone. “I’ll leave it here for you. It’ll confuse you upon waking and hopefully get ruined in the horrid weather we are having.” My heart sunk. She couldn’t see me. She was here visiting my grave but overall she could not see me. I might as well still be gone. “Now dear heart, I am going to have to insist that you stop this nonsense sooner rather than later. From what I can gather, you have the ability to come back. You have traveled these streets at least six times before. I am going to require that you do it again. That is the only deal I am making with you. You wish to make another one, you are going to need to show back up and tell me yourself.” “I’m trying,” I told her, wishing that she would hear me. Leave it to Belladonna to do research into my previous times here. “And I was here eight times before,” I told her. “So I’m kind of exited to come and tell you that you got that information wrong.” I paused. “Please don’t kill whoever gave you that information.” She looked uncomfortable. Talking to a grave was certainly not Belladonna’s strong suit. Each time she looked at my headstone, a sneer seemed to linger on her lips. [[What’s wrong?]] [[You are a vampire. Why can’t you see me?]] [[I am flattered you are taking the time out of your busy schedule]] Sitting, I stared at the small mound. I was unsure how much time had passed. The soil did not look fresh, sprouts of grass and small white flowers blooming from the churned dirt. A fluttering glow of light was buried among the blades of grass around the edge of stone. Reaching out, I dug my fingers into the earth, feeling something sharp touch the pad of my fingers. A jolt rushed through me. My breath caught in my chest, stinging tears into my eyes. I blinked them away rapidly, feeling my heart thud for a brief moment, echoing the life I had held. Suddenly the grass smelled stronger, the wind brushed against my cheek and the world around me bloomed with soft edges of color. I sucked in a breath. The first I had in some time. Looking around with wide eyes, I saw the stars. The way they dipped in and out of existence. I could hear the rustling of others but they were far off where the light did not touch. But most of all, I could feel the pulse of the world around me. //My pulse.// “$name?” My head whipped around. Gabriel stood upon a dirt path lined with candles. His sword glinted in the flickering light the buckles of his uniformed polished just like I remember. It was his eyes that caught me, though. A dull grey filled with such shock and disbelief that I was almost certain he would be sent to his knees. Standing, I kept my eyes on him. Afraid he would disappear, just as I was sure he was afraid I would as well. “Gabriel?” He rushed towards me, reaching out to take me in his arms. But his fingers passed right through me. A wounded sound escaped his throat as he stared at me, betrayed by the very world he vowed to protect. In more ways than one. “No,” he gasped. “No. You– you aren’t real, are you. You are a specter come to haunt me for my sins.” I felt my chest clench at the naked pain in his words. Out of everyone, Gabriel was always going to be the one that took on the guilt of my passing as if it were his own. “No. I don’t actually know what is happening. I– oh, Gabriel.” He sank to his knees, burying his head in his hands. The dark skin there was cracked through with silver. “You’re not real,” he said despondently. “No, Gabriel I am. I promise you I am. I’m just…” Just what? Not corporeal? A part of the world he was walking on but not absorbing into the bigger whole of it all? Or was I simply a ghost that Pen hadn’t yet worked up the courage to discuss with me. A lone and wandering soul without purpose yet again. “You are not,” he said miserably. “You are nothing more than a vision. A manifestation here to haunt me. I do not believe in you. Nor do I care for your presence. You will leave.” “Gabriel, it’s really me.” He laughed bitterly, pushing himself to stand at his full height. He looked at my gravestone instead, a mixture of both pain and abject sorrow creasing his eyes. “I will not let your memory exist in such horror,” he told me. The sword at his side was drawn before I could take another breath, pointed at me with a steady hand. [[Respond to him with fear]] [[Respond to him with compassion]] [[Respond to him with command]] Sitting, I stared at the small mound. I was unsure how much time had passed. The soil did not look fresh, sprouts of grass and small white flowers blooming from the churned dirt. There were signs of visitors but otherwise the plot was pristine. Only the soft indents of footprints gave me hope that I was being visited. Then again, I supposed I really couldn’t fault them. I had only been in their life for such a short period of time. Perhaps I wasn’t as important as I assumed. Maybe Belladonna didn’t burn the market down in my name. “Stop being dramatic.” I felt a jolt rush through me. My breath caught in my chest, stinging tears into my eyes. I blinked them away rapidly, feeling my heart thud for a brief moment, echoing the life I had held. Suddenly the grass smelled stronger, the wind brushed against my cheek and the world around me bloomed with soft edges of color. Belladonna stood near the winding oak tree, a book in her hand. She snapped it shut, the sound reverberating through the graveyard. She wore a cloak of black lace, the hood up over her hair and hiding her pale cheeks. Walking towards me, she crossed one red heel in front of the other. The folds of her robe parted with each step, exposing each long expanse of creamy thigh. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” “What was?” I asked, my throat dry. She looked down at the book and smirked. “You know, I do suppose this particular bit of diatribe does deserve complete silence.” Kneeling, she reached past me, setting the book against the gravestone. “I’ll leave it here for you. Or perhaps for Gabriel. I know he comes to this spot during his walks." My heart sunk. She couldn’t see me. She was here visiting my grave but overall she could not see me. I might as well still be gone. “Now dear heart, I am going to have to insist that you stop this nonsense sooner rather than later. From what I can gather, you have the ability to come back. You have traveled these streets at least six times before. I am going to require that you do it again. That is the only deal I am making with you. You wish to make another one, you are going to need to show back up and tell me yourself.” “I’m trying,” I told her, wishing that she would hear me. Leave it to Belladonna to do research into my previous times here. “And I was here eight times before,” I told her. “So I’m kind of exited to come and tell you that you got that information wrong.” I paused. “Please don’t kill whoever gave you that information.” She looked uncomfortable. Talking to a grave was certainly not Belladonna’s strong suit. I was surprised to see her here rather than Gabriel. Then again, given how the man was acting before the ball, I wondered if the madness had began to settle across him. If he was even capable of looking upon my grave. Shifting, Belladonna sighed uneasily, her eyes drifting down the path as if she were hoping to see the Warden walk up. Each time she looked at my headstone, a sneer seemed to linger on her lips. [[What’s wrong?]] [[You are a vampire. Why can’t you see me?]] [[I am flattered you are taking the time out of your busy schedule]] Sitting, I stared at the small mound. I was unsure how much time had passed. The soil did not look fresh, sprouts of grass and small white flowers blooming from the churned dirt. A small basket sat at the base of the stone, the contents of which were covered with a handkerchief. I recognized the embroidery immediately. Hazel’s stitches were always fine and delicate until the very end when she got impatient and broke her string. Most of her flower patterns trailed off into nothing. She had always claimed artistic design. Reaching out, I ran my fingers across the threading, a jolt of emotion rushing through me. My breath caught in my chest, stinging tears into my eyes. I blinked them away rapidly, feeling my heart thud for a brief moment, echoing the life I had held. The small dandelion looked as if they were taken up by the wind. More than anything I longed to follow those seeds back to her. “Oh, that won’t do.” My breath caught in my throat, my fingers dropping from the handkerchief. Suddenly, the world around me was far more vibrant. The smell of fresh churned soil and dew damp grass assaulting me. I had almost forgotten how //good// life smelled. But none of it mattered. Because she was here, walking up the path towards me, another basket in her hands. Hazel dropped to her knees right next to me and for one brief moment, I thought she was going to reach out and hold me. I leaned towards her, the feel of her arms wrapping around me just out of my reach. But she leaned around me, plucking a small weed that grew at the base of my stone. “There,” she whispered. “All better.” She didn’t see me at all. Only the place where they had lain me to rest. I was gone. “I brought you some more muffins,” she said, grabbing the old basket and replacing it with one of her own. “I know that you never really told me which kind you liked so I baked peach marionberry this week. You’ll have to wake up and tell me if–” her voice cut off, choked. “If you like them,” she forced out. I wanted to tell her that I would like anything she gave me. That as long as it was from her, I would forever be grateful. When she reached up to wipe at her eyes, I felt my heart ache. I had left her. I had come down to this world knowing full well what I was doing. That I would die but get to experience life in the interim. Not once had I thought about what that would mean for the ones I had loved. Suddenly, I felt the world crushing in on me. Life prior to her had been filled with the desire to just feel something of my own. Post her, I could see now how selfish it may have been. The lights above were out. The lanterns never having relit after my passing. Candles lined the pathways, but the horizon was made of pitch. It was why I didn’t notice it at first. Hazel was skinnier than she had been when I had seen her last. There was a sallowness to her once plump cheeks and purple smudged beneath now dull eyes. Scratches crisscrossed the backs of her hands and her skirts were plain. None of the colorful patches that had once adorned them aside for one small one near the base. A scrap of one of my old articles of clothing. Sewn right into her hem and hidden from view unless you were truly looking. “Oh, Hazel,” I muttered. “What happened?” Arranging the muffins, she began speaking. I wondered how often she came to the grave. How many times had I missed out on her before. “Billows sends his love,” she said. “Not really. Because he’s a cat. But, I really do think that he cares. I think he misses you giving him cream in the morning. I’m now suspicious that you maybe snuck him a little bit more cream than he was supposed to have. That or he manipulated both of us,” she laughed wetly. I could smell the muffins. They not only smelled of the apothecary but they smelled of her. Of softness and early mornings where we stoked the fire together. Where bread and pies cooled on the counter. “Good news, though. The path to the graveyard has officially stayed open now. No more moving walls. Or at least no more moving walls around this small area. I haven’t really heard if it is happening in other areas of the market.” “What about Malcolm?” I asked. “He travels the market more. Hasn’t he told you?” She shook her head. “I really should ask Malcolm but– well, things are just a bit difficult right now.” I stared at her, my eyes wide. Had she heard me? I could have sworn she responded. “Hazel?” “I’ll tell him,” she assured me. “Eventually. Him and mother just– you’ve got to understand that their relationship has always been a bit tedious. It’s not their fault. It’s just… She’s changed. But I don’t know if Malcolm is going to see that.” “Hazel. Can you hear me?" I reached out, cupping her cheek. When her hand came up to rest over mine, I felt it slip through my fingers. “You know,” she said, a tear slipping down over our entwined hands. “Sometimes I swear you are here. That I can feel you. When a flame flickers I think it's you. I woke up yesterday morning thinking you were in bed with me. It was so warm and…” she trailed off, her hand dropping to rest on her knee. “Stupid, really. Mother says you are back to yourself. Where you belong. She says to talk out loud if I miss you. That the Night Market can hear me. But in the end, what you did was noble. That you saved us all.” It wasn’t exactly the truth. My death had saved us. It was what I had come here for. But at what cost? “But do you want to know a secret?” she whispered, leaning towards the grave. “Sometimes I don’t care. I would have rather died with you, $name. I just miss you so much. Does that make me a bad person?” Clearing her throat, she stood. “I better get back. Mother has really been boosting business. We’ve been very busy as of late and I have orders to fill. I just wanted to drop off more muffins. In case you ever do wake. Nothing good is done on a hungry stomach.” She smiled down at the grave. Smiling down at me. “I love you,” she whispered. “I’ll come back soon.” I watched as she wandered down the path, retracing the dark steps in which she came. More than anything, I longed to follow. [[Next|Intro merger]] I took a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions from getting the better of me. I couldn’t really think of Milo yet. Of what it is I felt about the man. I had known what I was doing, but it also didn’t make the experience hurt any less. It jumbled together in my mind in one big convoluted mess that I just wish I could speak out loud to make it go away. Sighing, I reached out, knowing Malcolm couldn’t feel me but wishing to touch him all the same. To at least provide him with support. I had tried to do it so many nights during a time that now felt like ages ago. I wish I had had more time to bestow upon him solace before I had to go. “I’m sorry, Malcolm,” I told him. “My Gatekeeper.” I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch, his head cocking to the side as if he heard me, but he said nothing more. Standing, he brushed the grass from his pants, bits of grave dirt falling to the ground. I tried to reach out for him one last time, bring him back. But there was nothing. I sat there at my grave, feeling the silence begin to settle over me. The further Malcolm walked, the more the world around me went grey. For a brief moment I was there again. Looking into life and feeling it brush against me. But somehow, it felt all the worse now. Forever being a part of it all, never being able to do anything more than just look in. I leaned my head back against the gravestone. [[Next|Intro merger]] Sitting, I turned towards him, intent to listen. While he could not see me, Malcolm was at least used to that. I used to believe that he could feel my presence at the very least. Maybe now would be no different. “I’m not giving him much longer,” Malcolm said. “Something is going on with him and– maybe I’m just a fool.” He shook his head, picking at the flowers beneath us. “I want to hate him, sometimes. For what he did. For not trusting me. For hurting Hazel.” There was something else though. An unspoken truth in his eyes he had not spoken but had been brewing since the day he woke. Shaking his head, he flicked a blade of grass away from him, looking up at the starless sky. “For not even coming to see me when I woke.” The knife to a wound that would never close. They had been together for a long time. Malcolm had died in Milo’s arms. And upon his return, Milo had pretended as if it had never even happened. The hurt he felt was visceral and wove itself into my bones. Standing, he brushed the grass from his pants, bits of grave dirt falling to the ground. I tried to reach out for him one last time, bring him back. But there was nothing. I sat there at my grave, feeling the silence begin to settle over me. The further Malcolm walked, the more the world around me went grey. For a brief moment I was there again. Looking into life and feeling it brush against me. But somehow, it felt all the worse now. Forever being a part of it all, never being able to do anything more than just look in. I leaned my head back against the gravestone. [[Next|Intro merger]] Swiping my hand forward, I lashed out at it, watching as it fell. It fluttered to the ground with a small plink against the base of my stone. Next to me, Malcolm sat frozen, his eyes wide as he searched the dark. “Lamplight?” he whispered. “Are you here?” Reaching out, I tried to pick up the necklace. Do some sort of spectral dance with it to show him that I was right here. If I thought screaming would help I would have done that as well. But nothing happened. The necklace stayed, a mockery of my situation. A symbol of hope that was a smoke screen for the desolate reality before us. How very Milo of it. Gently, Malcolm picked up the necklace, laying it back on the gravestone. “You better keep that,” he said softly. “If Milo left it, I have a feeling you’re going to need it.” Standing, he brushed the grass from his pants, bits of grave dirt falling to the ground. I tried to reach out for him one last time, bring him back. But there was nothing. “I need to get going,” he said. “Be seeing you. Maybe someday soon.” He looked down at my headstone, so many words left on his lips. But he said none of them. Burying them along with my body. Another time, perhaps. I was helpless. For being the most powerful being within this realm, I could do nothing to affect the living. Nothing that seemed to actually matter, that is. I sat there at my grave, feeling the silence begin to settle over me. The further Malcolm walked, the more the world around me went grey. For a brief moment I was there again. Looking into life and feeling it brush against me. But somehow, it felt all the worse now. Forever being a part of it all, never being able to do anything more than just look in. I leaned my head back against the gravestone. [[Next|Intro merger]] I stumbled back through my gravestone, putting it between us. Slowly, I held up my hands. The madness was there. I could see it now. The way it swirled like a void in his eyes. It was digging its claws into him and not willing to give him an inch of compassion. I felt my stomach clench in fear. If he truly was succumbing to the madness, what would greet me when I did return home? “Gabriel, please,” I whispered. “You’re scaring me.” “I am the Warden of the Night Market. I vowed to uphold the sanctity of this market. And a dark specter such as you will not be sullying the name of the one I hold dear.” I scrambled back as he made to step forward, fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword. “It’s me,” I told him desperately. “I am trying to find a way back to you but I don’t know what’s going on. Not yet at least.” Lunging forward, he plunged his sword into my chest, his cry echoing around the desolate graveyard. His shadow loomed over me, casting across my form in broad strokes of silvery grey. I could feel the pant of his breath. The heat from his body. Pressed tightly to my front, I could not feel him, however. Nor could I feel the sword. Instead, we stared at each other with wide and shocky eyes. “You are not ?them,” he growled. “How do you know?” I whispered. “What evidence do you have that I’m not who I say I am?” “Your clock has not run out,” he said, pulling the sword free. It ran clean in the moonlight. “It hasn’t even begun ticking. And I have been here a dozen times. If your ghost was hanging out here, I would have known before now.” “I’m not a ghost,” I assured him. “I’m just me. I touched that rock down there–” “You touched my grace?” My eyes went wide. “Why have you placed your grace here?” He barely had enough of it for himself. The more my eyes adjusted, the more I could see the cracks within his face. The ones that said he was depleting himself. They had begun the night of the ball. They had only gotten worse in the time since “It is tradition,” he said. “Customary when you lose a loved one.” [[A loved one]] [[You should not be wasting your grace]] [[Don't you need that?]] The sword would not touch me. Even if I was flesh and blood, I doubted it would ever marr my skin. “Gabriel,” I breathed his name, trying to reach out towards the pain I could see clouding his eyes. “I know that this was not what you expected. But it's me,” I whispered to him, feeling my own throat tighten with emotion. “It is me." “I am the Warden of the Night Market. I vowed to uphold the sanctity of this market. And a dark specter such as you will not be sullying the name of the one I hold dear.” He stepped forward, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. “How bad is the madness?” I asked. I wanted to step forward, wrapping him tightly in my arms. With me gone, did he ever seek out help? Or was it just him and Elias, against the very thing that killed the fallen. When he didn’t answer, I pushed the question aside. He could see me. I had time to bring it up later. “Gabriel, I promise you, I am me. I don’t know all of what is happening right now but I am trying to get back. Get back to you.” Lunging forward, he plunged his sword into my chest, his cry echoing around the desolate graveyard. His shadow loomed over me, casting across my form in broad strokes of silvery grey. I could feel the pant of his breath. The heat from his body. Pressed tightly to my front, I could not feel him, however. Nor could I feel the sword. Instead, we stared at each other with wide and shocky eyes. “You are not ?them,” he growled. “How do you know?” I whispered. “What evidence do you have that I’m not who I say I am?” “Your clock has not run out,” he said, pulling the sword free. It ran clean in the moonlight. “It hasn’t even begun ticking. And I have been here a dozen times. If your ghost was hanging out here, I would have known before now.” “I’m not a ghost,” I assured him. “I’m just me. I touched that rock down there–” “You touched my grace?” My eyes went wide. “Why have you placed your grace here?” He barely had enough of it for himself. The more my eyes adjusted, the more I could see the cracks within his face. The ones that said he was depleting himself. They had begun the night of the ball. They had only gotten worse in the time since “It is tradition,” he said. “Customary when you lose a loved one.” [[A loved one]] [[You should not be wasting your grace]] [[Don't you need that?]]“Gabriel,” I said, turning my voice harsh and snapping his attention back to me. The sword wavered. “I’m me,” I told him firmly. “I may not be solid but I am me.” He didn’t say anything, but he also did not turn away. “How bad is the madness?” I asked. Did he truly think I was nothing more than a manifestation of such a thing? Again, he said nothing. Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose, acutely aware that even my own fingers went through. “I didn’t die, Gabriel. I went back home. Kind of. Maybe.” How was I going to explain this to him when I wasn’t even sure what had happened. “I… look. I am me. But I’m me me. The Night Market version of me. Or at least part of it. I know who I am now. I know what happened and I am trying to come back.” “I am the Warden of the Night Market. I vowed to uphold the sanctity of this market. And a dark specter such as you will not be sullying the name of the one I hold dear.” He stepped forward, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. “No one has been able to see me,” I told him. “Not here.” I hadn’t really been able to see them either. “I was told by a friend to come down here today and I have to wonder if it's because they knew you were going to be here. Gabriel,” I pleaded. “I promise you. It is me. I need you to believe that and I need you to believe that now.” Lunging forward, he plunged his sword into my chest, his cry echoing around the desolate graveyard. His shadow loomed over me, casting across my form in broad strokes of silvery grey. I could feel the pant of his breath. The heat from his body. Pressed tightly to my front, I could not feel him, however. Nor could I feel the sword. Instead, we stared at each other with wide and shocky eyes. “You are not ?them,” he growled. “How do you know?” I whispered. “What evidence do you have that I’m not who I say I am?” “Your clock has not run out,” he said, pulling the sword free. It ran clean in the moonlight. “It hasn’t even begun ticking. And I have been here a dozen times. If your ghost was hanging out here, I would have known before now.” “I’m not a ghost,” I assured him. “I’m just me. I touched that rock down there–” “You touched my grace?” My eyes went wide. “Why have you placed your grace here?” He barely had enough of it for himself. The more my eyes adjusted, the more I could see the cracks within his face. The ones that said he was depleting himself. They had begun the night of the ball. They had only gotten worse in the time since “It is tradition,” he said. “Customary when you lose a loved one.” [[A loved one]] [[You should not be wasting your grace]] [[Don't you need that?]]“What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but ask the question. She looked as if she were in pain. As if the physical act of being here was causing her some degree of discomfort. I searched my memory for something that would explain away her actions but found nothing. Sadly, her and I had really only begun to talk about her shortly before my demise. <<if $bellaro == "true">>“I am supposed to talk to you,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s what they tell me at least. Which makes no sense. It is not as if your soul is here. Just a meat sack that is decaying beneath the ground. I can smell it and it is not pleasant.” She tapped her heeled toe against the ground, sneering as a cricket hopped across the shiny red leather.<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I am supposed to talk to you,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s what Gabriel keeps harping on me about. He claims that it will provide you comfort if you were unabl to make it to the beyond. Which makes no sense. It is not as if your soul is here. Just a meat sack that is decaying beneath the ground. I can smell it and it is not pleasant.” She tapped her heeled toe against the ground, sneering as a cricket hopped across the shiny red leather.<</if>> “What is talking to you going to do anyway?” she asked. “Is this some grief thing that //I// am supposed to do? I am not grieving you, $name. You will be back. There really is no other option for you.” “I want to come back,” I told her, despite knowing she couldn’t hear me. “Believe me, Bella, I want to come back more than anything.” She crossed her arms, looking at my headstone in frustration. I could see the way her nails dug into the fabric of her cloak. How her eyes were sharp, looking for even the barest hint of my return. The clock that hung over the stone remained silent though. Denoting that there was no body that had the intention to rise. Not yet, at least. “I fear that I have lost too much of my humanity,” she said suddenly. There was no emotion to her voice. Just a clipped tone and a statement of fact. “I’ve forgotten about grief or why we are supposed to talk to slabs of stone. Perhaps I am becoming Gabriel and being quite literal with my thoughts. Wouldn’t that be a twist of events.” “You won’t let it get that far,” I told her quietly. There was no recognition in her eyes. Briefly I wondered how many times she had come here and hoped that her voice would raise me from the dead. Stepping forward, she ran her fingers lovingly across the headstone. “If I thought you weren’t coming back I would get you something bigger. This pauper's grave of yours is a disservice to who you are.” It was not a pauper's grave by any means. In fact, it looked on par with most of the stones where. It was certainly no mausoleum but it wasn’t as if it was unmarked. “I will be expecting you soon, dear heart. I am a very busy woman now and do not have time for such stalling. Do keep that in mind.” Turning, she walked away, disappearing into the dark. I kept my eyes on the shadowed outline of her form until she was gone. [[Next|Intro merger]]“You are a vampire, Bella. How is it you can’t see me?” I didn’t really know how any of it worked. If I was a ghost I was sure it would make sense. A vampire even. But instead, I was some odd anomaly. Hanging out at my own grave. <<if $bellaro == "true">>“I am supposed to talk to you,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s what they tell me at least. Which makes no sense. It is not as if your soul is here. Just a meat sack that is decaying beneath the ground. I can smell it and it is not pleasant.” She tapped her heeled toe against the ground, sneering as a cricket hopped across the shiny red leather.<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I am supposed to talk to you,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s what Gabriel keeps harping on me about. He claims that it will provide you comfort if you were unabl to make it to the beyond. Which makes no sense. It is not as if your soul is here. Just a meat sack that is decaying beneath the ground. I can smell it and it is not pleasant.” She tapped her heeled toe against the ground, sneering as a cricket hopped across the shiny red leather.<</if>> “What is talking to you going to do anyway?” she asked. “Is this some grief thing that //I// am supposed to do? I am not grieving you, $name. You will be back. There really is no other option for you.” “I want to come back,” I told her, despite knowing she couldn’t hear me. “Believe me, Bella, I want to come back more than anything.” She crossed her arms, looking at my headstone in frustration. I could see the way her nails dug into the fabric of her cloak. How her eyes were sharp, looking for even the barest hint of my return. The clock that hung over the stone remained silent though. Denoting that there was no body that had the intention to rise. Not yet, at least. “I fear that I have lost too much of my humanity,” she said suddenly. There was no emotion to her voice. Just a clipped tone and a statement of fact. “I’ve forgotten about grief or why we are supposed to talk to slabs of stone. Perhaps I am becoming Gabriel and being quite literal with my thoughts. Wouldn’t that be a twist of events.” “You won’t let it get that far,” I told her quietly. There was no recognition in her eyes. Briefly I wondered how many times she had come here and hoped that her voice would raise me from the dead. Stepping forward, she ran her fingers lovingly across the headstone. “If I thought you weren’t coming back I would get you something bigger. This pauper's grave of yours is a disservice to who you are.” It was not a pauper's grave by any means. In fact, it looked on par with most of the stones where. It was certainly no mausoleum but it wasn’t as if it was unmarked. “I will be expecting you soon, dear heart. I am a very busy woman now and do not have time for such stalling. Do keep that in mind.” Turning, she walked away, disappearing into the dark. I kept my eyes on the shadowed outline of her form until she was gone. [[Next|Intro merger]]“Well, I am of course flattered that such a busy Baron is taking the time of her schedule,” I said with a small smile. I missed listening to her tell me that she was a Baron every other sentence. She had been so proud of her achievement. And even more delighted in Kavatti’s demise. <<if $bellaro == "true">>“I am supposed to talk to you,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s what they tell me at least. Which makes no sense. It is not as if your soul is here. Just a meat sack that is decaying beneath the ground. I can smell it and it is not pleasant.” She tapped her heeled toe against the ground, sneering as a cricket hopped across the shiny red leather.<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I am supposed to talk to you,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “That’s what Gabriel keeps harping on me about. He claims that it will provide you comfort if you were unabl to make it to the beyond. Which makes no sense. It is not as if your soul is here. Just a meat sack that is decaying beneath the ground. I can smell it and it is not pleasant.” She tapped her heeled toe against the ground, sneering as a cricket hopped across the shiny red leather.<</if>> “What is talking to you going to do anyway?” she asked. “Is this some grief thing that //I// am supposed to do? I am not grieving you, $name. You will be back. There really is no other option for you.” “I want to come back,” I told her, despite knowing she couldn’t hear me. “Believe me, Bella, I want to come back more than anything.” She crossed her arms, looking at my headstone in frustration. I could see the way her nails dug into the fabric of her cloak. How her eyes were sharp, looking for even the barest hint of my return. The clock that hung over the stone remained silent though. Denoting that there was no body that had the intention to rise. Not yet, at least. “I fear that I have lost too much of my humanity,” she said suddenly. There was no emotion to her voice. Just a clipped tone and a statement of fact. “I’ve forgotten about grief or why we are supposed to talk to slabs of stone. Perhaps I am becoming Gabriel and being quite literal with my thoughts. Wouldn’t that be a twist of events.” “You won’t let it get that far,” I told her quietly. There was no recognition in her eyes. Briefly I wondered how many times she had come here and hoped that her voice would raise me from the dead. Stepping forward, she ran her fingers lovingly across the headstone. “If I thought you weren’t coming back I would get you something bigger. This pauper's grave of yours is a disservice to who you are.” It was not a pauper's grave by any means. In fact, it looked on par with most of the stones where. It was certainly no mausoleum but it wasn’t as if it was unmarked. “I will be expecting you soon, dear heart. I am a very busy woman now and do not have time for such stalling. Do keep that in mind.” Turning, she walked away, disappearing into the dark. I kept my eyes on the shadowed outline of her form until she was gone. [[Next|Intro merger]]“It’ll be alright.” My head lolled to the side slowly. Another voice in the dark. Not for me. Meant instead for some other weeping mourner. Not the dead who haunted this dark expanse of land. I wanted to pretend to answer it anyway. It made me believe for a brief moment that I was connected. “What will be alright?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “The whole life vs. death thing.” My head snapped to the side. A large man stood just two graves down, shovel over his shoulder as he began digging into the land. He was eyeing me though. //Me//. For the first time, I felt seen. Not by one of my own. Not by cosmic entities that would be here long after I was gone. But by a living breathing individual…. Or breathing, at least. Now that I shifted my attention to him, I was unsure if he was living. Stitched lines were etched across the grey pallor of his skin. I could see it around the joints of his limbs. Across his cheeks. His blue eyes shone brightly in the dark. An unnatural hue rimmed around each iris. The stench of formaldehyde clung to him and despite normally feeling the beat of another heart, I felt nothing. Not even the ticking of a clock. “You can see me?” “I can see you,” he confirmed. He jammed the shovel into the ground, walking towards me with a bit of a limp. He favored his right side more than his left, the leg that he stayed off of at least two inches shorter than the other. “Lamplight, I take it?” he asked. “$name,” I said, looking between him and the stone. “You can see me?” I knew I had already asked the question but the elation that filed me left me nearly dizzy. “I can see the dead,” he told me. “Though, you’re not so much dead as you are incomplete. That sound right?” “Yeah,” I told him. “You’re not wrong.” “I’m Herald, by the way. My father owns this cemetery. Helps watch over it all. I’m the gravedigger. I was told to keep an eye out for you. Your grave's been pretty active with visitors but you’re the first person that wasn’t livin’ to show up here.” “It’s my grave,” I told him. “Gathered that. You okay? Sometimes wakin’ up can be disorienting.” “I don’t think I’m really awake,” I told him. I had wandered here like I did everywhere else in the market. But for some reason, close to this grave, I was more conscious of my surroundings. I could see the world for what it was instead of the washed out painting of my memories. “No. Suppose not.” He looked up towards the church that sat at the top of the hill. It was surrounded by light. A lone beacon in a dying world where the night pressed in to suffocate out the good. What was I doing? “Alright then. Come on in. Let’s get you warm and some food in your belly.” I stared at him. “I don’t think I can eat.” “You can,” Herald said. “Just got to find what works with you. But we’ll do it. My job is to protect you.” Protect me. Why was there so many people out here, ready to protect me, and yet I was still dying? “The last man's whose job that was didn’t do a very good job.” Herald nodded. “Sorry about that. Hope that that situation is remedied for you.” He began walking up the candlelit path to the church. For a moment, fear took me. Could I really just follow? Or would I be sucked back into the grey and empty world, destined to watch other people's memories and make none of my own. “I really would come,” Herald said. “Graveyard can get a bit confusin’ at night. Even if you are the Night Market.” I looked at him in surprise. “How’d you know I was the Night Market?” I asked. “‘Cause that Gatekeeper came by and explained it all. Said if you woke to let him know.” Walking up towards the church, I looked up at the night sky. Without the lanterns, I could see the stars. They dotted the sky in small little shards of light. Each of them a distinct world that was being consumed. Eventually, they would all blink out. One by one. Unless I could figure out a way to save them. “You comin’?” Herald asked. “Yeah,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “Yeah. It’s time to find a way home.” [[Chapter One]]<b>Chapter One</b> The chapel on the top of the hill was modest compared to what it could have been. White sideboards peeled along the west side of the building while the bell tower stretched up towards the night sky, devoid of the bell it should have been housing. Along the front flower beds were bushels of half dead hydrangeas and little glowing plants that made green bubbling sounds. The steps up to the front porch were rickety and patched and the wood of the stoop had been cobbled together from several different boards. “Watch your head,” Herald intoned. The overhang of the front landing was painted blue and draped with old potted plants shriveled and dead without the sun. I knew they were not native to the market itself but whoever lived here looked as if they had at least tried. Discarded pruning shears and what looked like artificial sun capsules littered a small entryway table. “Now, my father is a bit of an eccentric fella and he can be a mite scary when you first meet him. But I assure you, he means you no harm at all.” Pausing, I looked back down towards the drive we had walked from. Candles lined the dirt road and the shadows of the grave were cast low and long across the entirety of the graveyard. The whir of ticking clocks was a mechanical buzz, like small fireflies, ticking away until another life returned to the surface. “I know this has got to be hard,” Herald began softly. He had a soothing voice. One that tried to offer comfort. Ducking beneath the awning, his head remained dipped. He was too big for such a small porch. “Sorry. It’s just,” I paused as I glance back at the sea of graves. “Are all those people waiting to be reborn?” I supposed in the grand scheme of it all, given the entirety of the world, it wasn’t a lot. But the number still shocked me. I had seen the overflowing well of souls and had heard their cries, but the ticking silence that was before me felt far more disquieting than anything else I had known. “Some of them may not,” the big man said. “Just kind of depends on what they’re thinkin’. Haven’t gotten a lot of people to dig up as of late. Been mostly burying. Something is going on that the dead don’t seem to be returning. Not like they used to. Families are starting to give up hope.” There were very few people mingling around the graves. Only faint traces of them were silhouetted among the pillars of stone. [[You dig up the bodies when they return?]] [[How do you decide who goes to the graves and who doesn’t?]] [[The clocks are working, right?]] <<set $gabrielro to "false">> <<set $miloro to "false">> <<set $hazelro to "false">> <<set $belladonnaro to "false">> <<set $gbpoly to "false">> <<set $relationship to "false">> <<set $blackmailpen to "false">> <<set $freepeople to "false">> <<set $gabrielgrave to "false">> <<set $bakery to "false">> <<set $cave to "false">> <<set $artalley to "false">> <<set $malcolmposession to "false">> <<set $miloend to "false">> <<set $hazelkey to "false">> Zinnia Demitasse<<link "The Barons">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("The Barons"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("The Barons").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> <<link "Character Sheet">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Character Sheet"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Character Sheet").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> <<link "Notable Achievements">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Notable Achievements"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("notable achievements").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> <<link "Credits">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Credits"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("credits").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/7hvhLCfs/logo.jpg"> The Night Market“A loved one?” The words rocked through me, pulling me down. As if to anchor me to the grave itself. “You though,” he continued, “are an abomination. Wearing the face of someone who is your better. Thinking you can deceive me.” “Gabriel…” “I may not be able to kill you with my sword but mark my words, I will eradicate every last inch of you.” “Then you will be killing the one you love,” I said in desperation. “You will be destroying me. $name.” “Do not speak of ?them!” he roared. I stumbled back as the ground beneath us shook. “You are nothing more than a ploy. Something to cause me to stray from my path.” “Your path?” I shook my head, frantically trying to figure out what he was even speaking of. “I figured it all out,” he said with a laugh. “$name was nothing more than a temptation. A way to lead me astray from what I know to be just and true. I will not fall for it any further. $name died to save us. You will not sit here and use a familiar face to lead me astray. I will not stand for such a corruption.” “Oh, Gabriel,” I breathed. “That’s not… I didn’t die,” I told him. “I know it looks that way.” I glanced down at my grave. “It actually really looks that way. But I did not die. I am here now. As me. More me than I was before.” I desperately wished I could reach out and touch him. Take him by the hand. “You were not supposed to protect me that night. I was not sent to lead you astray and what happened that night was out of your control.” For a moment, a very brief moment, I thought he would believe me. There was a flicker of familiarity in his eyes that called out to me and gave me form, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. But it was gone as quickly as it came. Straightening, he tucked his sword back to his side, stepping around me to place a scarred hand on my tombstone. Bending forward, he pressed his lips to the stone. “Your pain will always rest on my shoulders, $name. I vowed to protect you and I could not. For that, I will forever seek penance. Wherever you are, may you be at rest.” “Gabriel…” Without another look at me, he walked away. Taking the darkened dirt path back towards the market where he disappeared into the shadows. For a knee-jerk moment, I tried to follow, but my body felt far too light the further away from the graveyard I tried to move. I knew without a doubt, that if I continued after him, I’d simply float away. Instead, I slumped against my grave, lost and confused. Cursing myself for thinking this would be easy. [[Next|Intro merger]] The soft glow of the grace filtered out through the surrounding area. Small silver buds bloomed in the dead of night, burning bright before wilting into nothing. “Gabriel,” I breathed his name in horror. “You should not be wasting your grace.” “Do not speak to me of what I should or should not do. You are nothing more than an abomination, come here to make me stray from my path.” “You need that,” I said, pointing at the grace by my headstone. “You cannot just be giving it away.” Face twisted in anger, his eyes were twin points of silver flame. “I do nothing for you,” he hissed. “You are nothing more than a ploy to rid me from my path. But I will not be deterred.” “Your path?” I shook my head, frantically trying to figure out what he was even speaking of. “I figured it all out,” he said with a laugh. “$name was nothing more than a temptation. A way to lead me astray from what I know to be just and true. I will not fall for it any further. $name died to save us. You will not sit here and use a familiar face to lead me astray. I will not stand for such a corruption.” “Oh, Gabriel,” I breathed. “That’s not… I didn’t die,” I told him. “I know it looks that way.” I glanced down at my grave. “It actually really looks that way. But I did not die. I am here now. As me. More me than I was before.” I desperately wished I could reach out and touch him. Take him by the hand. “You were not supposed to protect me that night. I was not sent to lead you astray and what happened that night was out of your control.” For a moment, a very brief moment, I thought he would believe me. There was a flicker of familiarity in his eyes that called out to me and gave me form, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. But it was gone as quickly as it came. Straightening, he tucked his sword back to his side, stepping around me to place a scarred hand on my tombstone. Bending forward, he pressed his lips to the stone. “Your pain will always rest on my shoulders, $name. I vowed to protect you and I could not. For that, I will forever seek penance. Wherever you are, may you be at rest.” “Gabriel…” Without another look at me, he walked away. Taking the darkened dirt path back towards the market where he disappeared into the shadows. For a knee-jerk moment, I tried to follow, but my body felt far too light the further away from the graveyard I tried to move. I knew without a doubt, that if I continued after him, I’d simply float away. Instead, I slumped against my grave, lost and confused. Cursing myself for thinking this would be easy. [[Next|Intro merger]]“Don’t you need your grace? Isn’t the lack of it what will bring the madness on far quicker?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “As if you care. What does it matter if the madness overtakes me? As long as the job is done. As long as the world continues to turn.” “I care,” I nearly shouted. “I actually care, Gabriel. Take it back. You do not need to be sparing it for me.” Face twisted in anger, his eyes were twin points of silver flame. “I do nothing for you,” he hissed. “You are nothing more than a ploy to rid me from my path. But I will not be deterred.” “Your path?” I shook my head, frantically trying to figure out what he was even speaking of. “I figured it all out,” he said with a laugh. “$name was nothing more than a temptation. A way to lead me astray from what I know to be just and true. I will not fall for it any further. $name died to save us. You will not sit here and use a familiar face to lead me astray. I will not stand for such a corruption.” “Oh, Gabriel,” I breathed. “That’s not… I didn’t die,” I told him. “I know it looks that way.” I glanced down at my grave. “It actually really looks that way. But I did not die. I am here now. As me. More me than I was before.” I desperately wished I could reach out and touch him. Take him by the hand. “You were not supposed to protect me that night. I was not sent to lead you astray and what happened that night was out of your control.” For a moment, a very brief moment, I thought he would believe me. There was a flicker of familiarity in his eyes that called out to me and gave me form, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. But it was gone as quickly as it came. Straightening, he tucked his sword back to his side, stepping around me to place a scarred hand on my tombstone. Bending forward, he pressed his lips to the stone. “Your pain will always rest on my shoulders, $name. I vowed to protect you and I could not. For that, I will forever seek penance. Wherever you are, may you be at rest.” “Gabriel…” Without another look at me, he walked away. Taking the darkened dirt path back towards the market where he disappeared into the shadows. For a knee-jerk moment, I tried to follow, but my body felt far too light the further away from the graveyard I tried to move. I knew without a doubt, that if I continued after him, I’d simply float away. Instead, I slumped against my grave, lost and confused. Cursing myself for thinking this would be easy. [[Next|Intro merger]] What is your name? <<textbox "$name" $name>> \ <<button "Confirm">> <<set $name to $name.trim()>> <<if $name is "">> <<replace "#name-error">>Please enter a name!<</replace>> <<else>> <<goto "Pronouns">> <</if>> <</button>> &nbsp;&nbsp; \ <span id="name-error"></span> [[I identify as Male|Introduction][$pgen to "0"]] [[I identify as Female|Introduction][$pgen to "1"]] [[I identify as Non binary|Introduction][$pgen to "2"]]“You have to dig up the bodies when they return to life?” I was slightly horrified by the revelation. And the fact that anyone would have to do such a job. “When time runs out on the clocks, I try to dig them up so no one wakes on their own beneath the ground. Don’t need someone starting their life traumatized.” I wondered if that was how I would come back. Eyes opening to the lid of a coffin. “There are so many graves out there. How do you keep track of them all?” “We have alarm bells,” Herald explained. “Clocks sometimes speed up in their process. Others start ticking after years. It’s a big machine thing that I don’t really understand but it’s never steered us wrong. Not yet, at least.” The front door burst open then, startling both of us and causing Herald to hit his head. A tall lady with a stern face and a broad chin looked back at us. She wore a black and white french maid uniform that looked more like a costume than anything else, and an embroidered eye patch off to one side. “Hey, Marie,” Herald greeted. “Was just going to bring the Night Market in.” She narrowed her good eye at us and slowly backed away. “That’s Marie,” Herald told me. “She runs the comings and goings of our house. Father and I would be lost without her.” Marie looked as if she could beat me within an inch of my life and despite not seeing her, I had a suspicion she was watching me from the shadows. I made a silence vow to not cross her if I saw her again. [[Next|Chapter One 1]]“So you are the one responsible for burying people in this graveyard?” “I am.” There was a large coffin that leaned near the front door. It had straps on it, serving as some sort of backpack. “I walk around, put them in there, and it transports them to their designated graves.” “How do you pick who comes here and who doesn’t?” “Oh, that’s easy. Only native Night Market born are allowed here. The others I think go back to their world when they pass.” “But most of their worlds are gone,” I said. It was why I had opened so many doors. To save them. With their worlds destroyed, I didn’t know if they even had an afterlife to return to after all of this. Or if their death here was the final end. The front door burst open then, startling both of us and causing Herald to hit his head. A tall lady with a stern face and a broad chin looked back at us. She wore a black and white french maid uniform that looked more like a costume than anything else, and an embroidered eye patch off to one side. “Hey, Marie,” Herald greeted. “Was just going to bring the Night Market in.” She narrowed her good eye at us and slowly backed away. “That’s Marie,” Herald told me. “She runs the comings and goings of our house. Father and I would be lost without her.” Marie looked as if she could beat me within an inch of my life and despite not seeing her, I had a suspicion she was watching me from the shadows. I made a silence vow to not cross her if I saw her again. [[Next|Chapter One 1]]“But the clocks are working, right?” The clocks. Little bits of time that marked each grave, announcing a return. Some of them were frozen, leaving most to assume that the dead did not wish to come back. Others were ticking so fast that it was a wonder that a body did not burst from the ground itself. They were what controlled life and death within the graveyard. I knew that much at least. Everyone had been assuming that the gates were what was keeping the dead down deep but gates had nothing to do with it. “Some break,” Herald said. “Quite a few, really. But no more or less than it’s always been. Or at least, not to my knowledge. I’ve only been here with my father about five years now.” “What do you do if they break?” I asked. “Before I would take them to the clock shop to see if they can be fixed. Now my boyfriend comes out and does it. He likes it better that way. He says if I keep bringing him clocks to repair at the shop, people are going to want to start asking him to repair their clocks. And he just wants to be left alone.” “Then why have a shop?” “Shop is a loose word,” Herald said with a small smile. “Don’t know if you can really call it a shop if your sign is always flipped towards closed.” The front door burst open then, startling both of us and causing Herald to hit his head. A tall lady with a stern face and a broad chin looked back at us. She wore a black and white french maid uniform that looked more like a costume than anything else, and an embroidered eye patch off to one side. “Hey, Marie,” Herald greeted. “Was just going to bring the Night Market in.” She narrowed her good eye at us and slowly backed away. “That’s Marie,” Herald told me. “She runs the comings and goings of our house. Father and I would be lost without her.” Marie looked as if she could beat me within an inch of my life and despite not seeing her, I had a suspicion she was watching me from the shadows. I made a silence vow to not cross her if I saw her again. [[Next|Chapter One 1]] The inside of the chapel was cluttered and run down. Wooden beams were cracked and leaning against the wall rather than holding up the sagging floor. Every inch of space inside the home was made up of piles of gears, copper wire, and other paraphernalia that looked as if it was nothing more than junk. For a moment, I had a brief pang as I thought of Caliban and the hoarders roost he had lived in. I wondered if all his stuff was still there. “My father is just down this way,” Herald told me. There was an old oak set of steps that led up to the second floor but at the base of those steps was a long hallway that sloped downwards into a room that glowed bright white. When compared to the pitch of the night outside, the sudden luminosity made my eyes water. Herald was lumbering downwards, however, where I caught the bubbling that I had heard from the plants up above. The click of tinkering metal trickled through the room along with the odd whir of something foreign. Wherever Herald was going towards was certainly like nothing I had experienced before. Walking downwards, I was greeted with a large room. Far larger than what the chapel outside had indicated. The air became cool and musty as I descended beneath the ground. My surroundings were nothing but white tile and reflective metal. “Greetings!” I turned to find a little old man climbing over a pile of junk. His white hair stuck out on either side of his head and his coke bottle glasses sat askew on his nose. He wore a white lab coat that was stained with something aqua and his sun splotched skin peeked out beneath black leather gloves. “Herald my boy, what have you brought me today?” he said in a rather jovial tone. “This is the Market, father,” Herald responded, stepping aside and gesturing towards me. The man blinked at me before tsking under his breath. “No, my boy, this is a broken piece of the world without corporeal form.” Herald scratched that back of his head, sighing. “Thought I would just sum it up for you.” “Well, come here. Come here,” the man beckoned me. I took a few steps forward, noticing just how short he was the closer I got. “Why are you not back with your big self?” he asked me. “Unfinished business? A desire for life? Or do you not like the faint smell of mungbeans that the air has had lately.” [[Unfinished business]] [[A desire for life]] [[Mungbeans]]“Unfinished business,” I told him. What it came down to was that I didn’t feel like I was done. I had come down here somewhat carelessly, not fully understanding what it was I was doing. But leaving? That happened far too soon. There was still far too much I needed to be here for. I could not just leave these people with the image of my death, burying my body six feet under with no understanding of what was actually happening. “More life to live, you say?” the man chuckled. “I believe we all feel like that in the end.” I shook my head. “No. This is different. I…” But was it? Or was I being selfish. Using my position as the Night Market to my own advantage. Not everyone got that second chance. I was just one of the lucky ones who may. It didn’t mean I wanted to squander it, however. “It’s the mungbeans for sure,” I told him. He nodded at me sagely before cackling as he hopped around the room. “Lies,” he shouted with glee. “Not that the mugnbeans aren’t a problem. Death, they smell like. Which I suppose makes sense, in the end.” “Father, I was hoping you may be able to help this situation,” Herald tried to steer the conversation. “The clock on this particular grave is not even ticking but it does seem as if there is a desire to return to the market.” The man looked at me, peering up through the thick glass of his spectacles. They made his eyes far bigger than they needed to be, the wrinkled skin puckered at each corner. “What name do you like to go by, Market?” he asked firmly. “Oh, uh $name.” “Well, uh $name. I am Victor Frankenstein.” He jutted out a hand for me to shake. It was far from brittle within my own. “Now, do you consent to me poking and prodding around your essence to see if I can get you back here?” [[Can you explain what that means a bit more?]] [[Poke and prod all you want]] [[Will it hurt]]“A desire for life.” It was the most precious thing that had ever come into existence. The true and utterly ugly process of //living//. I had not understood it before. How could I, being what I was. Am? Either way, coming down and walking the streets, getting to know the people I had, gave me a sense of life that I no longer wanted to be without. Should I return to the whole of myself? I didn’t know. But I knew that I wasn’t done with walking the Night Market. While my death had not been unexpected, I was in the middle of my own story. I wasn’t ready yet to let it all go. “You got a taste of it, didn’t you?” the man asked with a grin. I had. I well and truly had. “It’s the mungbeans for sure,” I told him. He nodded at me sagely before cackling as he hopped around the room. “Lies,” he shouted with glee. “Not that the mugnbeans aren’t a problem. Death, they smell like. Which I suppose makes sense, in the end.” “Father, I was hoping you may be able to help this situation,” Herald tried to steer the conversation. “The clock on this particular grave is not even ticking but it does seem as if there is a desire to return to the market.” The man looked at me, peering up through the thick glass of his spectacles. They made his eyes far bigger than they needed to be, the wrinkled skin puckered at each corner. “What name do you like to go by, Market?” he asked firmly. “Oh, uh $name.” “Well, uh $name. I am Victor Frankenstein.” He jutted out a hand for me to shake. It was far from brittle within my own. “Now, do you consent to me poking and prodding around your essence to see if I can get you back here?” [[Can you explain what that means a bit more?]] [[Poke and prod all you want]] [[Will it hurt]]“It’s the mungbeans for sure,” I told him. He nodded at me sagely before cackling as he hopped around the room. “Lies,” he shouted in glee. “Not that the mungbeans are not a problem. Death, they smell like. Which I suppose makes sense, in the end.” Next to me, Herald looked less than impressed with his father's antics, though not entirely surprised. “Father, I was hoping you may be able to help this situation,” Herald tried to steer the conversation. “The clock on this particular grave is not even ticking but it does seem as if there is a desire to return to the market.” The man looked at me, peering up at me through the thick glass of his spectacles. They made his eyes far bigger than they needed to be, the wrinkled skin puckered at each corner. “What name do you like to go by, Market?” he asked firmly. “Oh, uh $name.” “Well, uh $name. I am Victor Frankenstein.” He jutted out a hand for me to shake. It was far from brittle within my own. “Now, do you consent to me poking and prodding around your essence to see if I can get you back here?” [[Can you explain what that means a bit more?]] [[Poke and prod all you want]] [[Will it hurt]]"Can you explain what that means a bit more?" “Of course! Of course!” The man looked entirely too excited to be able to explain his process. He was eager. “I plan to extract a bit of who you are with a big needle of mine. Then, I want to mix it in with several elements that I have. Some synthetic. Some from the earth itself. And then we will see what ends up happening with you.” “And that might bring me back?” I asked. “That’s the beauty of it all. I certainly do not know. But, we are never going to know anything if we do not experiment a bit with what you are.” “I’m the Night Market,” I said. It was with a bit of hesitation. A testing of the waters. “Yes. But you are not the entirety of the Night Market and //that’s// what we need to get to the bottom of.” Looking at me curiously, he cocked his head to the side, glasses sitting askew on his nose. “Where is it you go when you are not here?” “My mind,” I answered without thinking. It was then I knew that that was exactly where I was. That liminal space with the gray washed walls. The place where Taliesin Hynsin was now rooting around and looking at old parties. The liminal space where I had met Malcolm. The part of the world where spirits sometimes got trapped and wandered until they could find their way out, or a loved one could draw them home. “Your mind,” Victor stated. “How endlessly fascinating. When I get you back to flesh and blood I do hope you will come and take tea with me because I would love nothing more than to ask you enough questions to make you hate questions in general.” If this man could make me walk the market again, I would owe him more than a cup of tea. “Come come,” Victor beckoned, leading me further into his strange looking room. Large vats lined the walls, both with humanoid and non-humanoid shapes within. “Herald, will you go upstairs and get young Turner to stop all that racket?” I couldn’t hear anything but even Herald seemed to be flinching a little at some distant noise. “Yes, Father.” As Herald disappeared, Victor shook his head. “Be thankful you don’t have all your senses right now. Young Turner gets into a tizzy on some days and I do believe he hits the walls on purpose. Though, I think it is to get my boy's attention most of the time. Young love,” he laughed. “So wild and free and so very stupid.” Grabbing a large syringe that looked far more like a turkey baster, Victor turned to me. “Now, I’m just going to take a bit of your essence so I can study it. I don’t have much of a theory to go off of, but my suspicion is, you do not have a body to return to.” [[But I was buried]] [[Not one I can really walk around in]] [[I’m not even sure what my body was made out of to begin with]]“Poke and prod all you want,” I told him. I just wanted to get back to being able to walk around freely. To seeing the world in its entirety. And maybe, if I returned, the lanterns that had been doused with my departure would finally relight, setting the market right once again. “Can I ask where you go?” The doctor asked. “My mind,” I answered without thinking. It was then I knew that that was exactly where I was. That liminal space with the gray washed walls. The place where Taliesin Hynsin was now rooting around and looking at old parties. The liminal space where I had met Malcolm. The part of the world where spirits sometimes got trapped and wandered until they could find their way out, or a loved one could draw them home. “Your mind,” Victor stated. “How endlessly fascinating. When I get you back to flesh and blood I do hope you will come and take tea with me because I would love nothing more than to ask you enough questions to make you hate questions in general.” If this man could make me walk the market again, I would owe him more than a cup of tea. “Come come,” Victor beckoned, leading me further into his strange looking room. Large vats lined the walls, both with humanoid and non-humanoid shapes within. “Herald, will you go upstairs and get young Turner to stop all that racket?” I couldn’t hear anything but even Herald seemed to be flinching a little at some distant noise. “Yes, Father.” As Herald disappeared, Victor shook his head. “Be thankful you don’t have all your senses right now. Young Turner gets into a tizzy on some days and I do believe he hits the walls on purpose. Though, I think it is to get my boy's attention most of the time. Young love,” he laughed. “So wild and free and so very stupid.” Grabbing a large syringe that looked far more like a turkey baster, Victor turned to me. “Now, I’m just going to take a bit of your essence so I can study it. I don’t have much of a theory to go off of, but my suspicion is, you do not have a body to return to.” [[But I was buried]] [[Not one I can really walk around in]] [[I’m not even sure what my body was made out of to begin with]]“Will it hurt?” “Worst it will do is give you the most mild case of the Returnsies. That’s what I call it when you are forced to go back to your grave if you get too tired.” His eyes narrowed. “Where is it you go, however?” “My mind,” I answered without thinking. It was then I knew that that was exactly where I was. That liminal space with the gray washed walls. The place where Taliesin Hynsin was now rooting around and looking at old parties. The liminal space where I had met Malcolm. The part of the world where spirits sometimes got trapped and wandered until they could find their way out, or a loved one could draw them home. “Your mind,” Victor stated. “How endlessly fascinating. When I get you back to flesh and blood I do hope you will come and take tea with me because I would love nothing more than to ask you enough questions to make you hate questions in general.” If this man could make me walk the market again, I would owe him more than a cup of tea. “Come come,” Victor beckoned, leading me further into his strange looking room. Large vats lined the walls, both with humanoid and non-humanoid shapes within. “Herald, will you go upstairs and get young Turner to stop all that racket?” I couldn’t hear anything but even Herald seemed to be flinching a little at some distant noise. “Yes, Father.” As Herald disappeared, Victor shook his head. “Be thankful you don’t have all your senses right now. Young Turner gets into a tizzy on some days and I do believe he hits the walls on purpose. Though, I think it is to get my boy's attention most of the time. Young love,” he laughed. “So wild and free and so very stupid.” Grabbing a large syringe that looked far more like a turkey baster, Victor turned to me. “Now, I’m just going to take a bit of your essence so I can study it. I don’t have much of a theory to go off of, but my suspicion is, you do not have a body to return to.” [[But I was buried]] [[Not one I can really walk around in]] [[I’m not even sure what my body was made out of to begin with]]“I was buried,” I told the man. There was a grave there that people could visit. The body that I had walked around in before being sent there was certainly not fake. “You were,” the man nodded. “I am unsure that body is still in the ground anymore. I didn’t examine it when it got here but it could very well have been a construct or a spell. Something that dissolved once the consciousness left.” I startled at that piece of information, tucking it away to think about later. It hit me in a way that required a bit more thought than what I was willing to give here in this clinic. He stuck the turkey baster about an inch from my chest and squeezed the bulbous head. Dark, swirling essence began to pull from my body, shifting in color. I sucked in a breath. Beneath the fabric of my shirt, I could see a faint glow. Where Milo had opened the gate on my chest “Interesting bit of scar tissue you have there,” Victor murmured. [[A goblin decided to make his home in my chest cavity]] [[Someone I trusted thought ripping me open would strengthen our friendship]] [[It had to be done to save me]]“Not one I can really walk around in,” I told him. Even if the body that was buried was flesh and bone, it had to be decaying by now. “What exactly do the people do that return? What bodies do they even have?” “The ones they left this world with. In a way,” the doctor murmured. He was examining the outline of my body, placing a strange film over his glasses. “Except magically enhanced. Or perhaps new. Or, in rare cases, completely different. Causes for a lot of confusion. Some of it pretty hilarious if you think about it.” He stuck the turkey baster about an inch from my chest and squeezed the bulbous head. Dark, swirling essence began to pull from my body, shifting in color. I sucked in a breath. Beneath the fabric of my shirt, I could see a faint glow. Where Milo had opened the gate on my chest “Interesting bit of scar tissue you have there,” Victor murmured. [[A goblin decided to make his home in my chest cavity]] [[Someone I trusted thought ripping me open would strengthen our friendship]] [[It had to be done to save me]]“No,” I agreed. “Probably not. I’m not even sure what my old body was made of.” “Well, I may be able to make you a new one,” he said. “I made my boy Herald, after all.” The stitches that lined Herald’s skin, the way one leg was longer than the other. It was of no surprise that Herald was patched together. “Couldn’t we just use the body that’s buried out there?” I asked. “Might be defective. Don’t know yet.” He stuck the turkey baster about an inch from my chest and squeezed the bulbous head. Dark, swirling essence began to pull from my body, shifting in color. I sucked in a breath. Beneath the fabric of my shirt, I could see a faint glow. Where Milo had opened the gate on my chest “Interesting bit of scar tissue you have there,” Victor murmured. [[A goblin decided to make his home in my chest cavity]] [[Someone I trusted thought ripping me open would strengthen our friendship]] [[It had to be done to save me]]“That would be the site where a goblin decided to make a home in my chest,” I said, feeling a bolt of anger course through me at the thought of Taliesin. Knowing he was rooting around in my mind still made me uncomfortable. I could only hope that he rotted away in there. Then again, having the corpse of such a creature stuck decaying inside of me wasn’t quite the image I wanted either. “A goblin?” Victor said. He didn’t sound appalled or skeptical. More intrigued than anything else. “Curious. They are not usually known for snatching bodies. Prefer gems and the hive mind of their people. But to each their own. To each their own.” “You know a lot about goblins?” I asked. “Not in the broad sense. Never actually met one, in fact. Nor had the pleasure of having one as a patient. In due time, however.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the contents of the syringe. “It is not supposed to be this color at all. I’d say you are awfully sick, $name. We’ll have to get you fixed right up. Mind if I take a little more?” I looked at the swirling black liquid he pulled from me, never having seen it before. “No, go ahead.” As he began pulling out more I felt a tug. Something that started just beneath my navel and traveled upwards. Without warning, I felt lightheaded and fatigued, my body starting to feel as if it would sink through the floor. “There we are.” But Victor’s voice sounded as if it were coming from far, far away. I could barely hear it and then… Then I was back in that liminal space. The chapel and the graveyard nowhere to be found. Just miles and miles of empty alley ways and burnt out lights. [[Next|Chapter one 2]]“Someone I trusted ripped into me and ended my last existence. I don’t know what it was they were thinking other than maybe the slow degradation of our friendship. <<if $miloro == "true">> Because it certainly was not in the name of love.<</if>>” “I wouldn’t say your existence is ended,” Victor murmured, studying what was in the tube. “I would say that it has shifted. Have you shifted before?” “I have. Though the memories of those times are a little shaky. I’m not sure I know everything about myself yet.” “No, I would say not.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at the syringe. “It is not supposed to be this color at all. I’d say you are awfully sick, $name. We’ll have to get you fixed right up. Mind if I take a little more?” I looked at the swirling black liquid he pulled from me, never having seen it before. “No, go ahead.” As he began pulling out more I felt a tug. Something that started just beneath my navel and traveled upwards. Without warning, I felt lightheaded and fatigued, my body starting to feel as if it would sink through the floor. “There we are.” But Victor’s voice sounded as if it were coming from far, far away. I could barely hear it and then… Then I was back in that liminal space. The chapel and the graveyard nowhere to be found. Just miles and miles of empty alley ways and burnt out lights. [[Next|Chapter one 2]]“It had to be done to save me,” I said, feeling the burn from the key shaped scar. “I was dying. I still might be.” “Yes, I had heard rumors of the Night Market dying. Was a bit concerning for a spot of time. I am not certain you are out of the woods yet. Or, at least your bigger self. This version of you seems to have some different issues going on with it.” his eyes narrowed as he looked at the contents of the syringe. “Oh, that won’t do,” he muttered. “What won’t?” “It is not supposed to be this color at all. I’d say you are awfully sick, $name. We’ll have to get you fixed right up. Mind if I take a little more?” I looked at the swirling black liquid he pulled from me, never having seen it before. “No, go ahead.” As he began pulling out more I felt a tug. Something that started just beneath my navel and traveled upwards. Without warning, I felt lightheaded and fatigued, my body starting to feel as if it would sink through the floor. “There we are.” But Victor’s voice sounded as if it were coming from far, far away. I could barely hear it and then… Then I was back in that liminal space. The chapel and the graveyard nowhere to be found. Just miles and miles of empty alley ways and burnt out lights. [[Next|Chapter one 2]] Closing my eyes, I slumped against the wall. That didn’t quite work like I had hoped it would. Though I supposed, whatever was allowing me to traverse the waking world was not going to be able to last forever. If a spell was what brought me forth the first time, it wasn’t as if I was just going to be able to pop back in. For being the entire world, I certainly had limitations that seemed to put me at a disadvantage. It was just, I didn’t know what to do. Before, I slept. I viewed the world around me. The individuals that lived here. I watched their lives as some sort of entertainment between long cycles of sleep. I listened for those calling out in the other worlds and wrapped them all in my embrace. I kept the world itself breathing and functioning as best I could. But in this form, I didn’t need to do that. Nor could I. I was cut off somehow. Wandering as a mere ghost than a cosmic entity. And I didn’t want to spend my life just watching others. But if I couldn’t figure out how to get back, then was I simply going to fade into the walls around me? The thought of ceasing to exist made my heart clench in fear. Being the Night Market was a lonely existence. [[Next|Chapter one 3]] I began my ceaseless wandering once again. Since the ball, it was all I had been able to do. I had harassed Taliesin for a bit but the more the man sifted through my memories, the more pathetic he seemed. He could hurt me out there perhaps but in here, he was nothing more than a tapeworm scurrying around my insides. I thought about going back to Pen to see if they had any more insight into what was going on. They certainly knew how to get me back for a little while. But, Pen was Pen. Death’s job was endless and with no one returning to the market the well was overflowing. Yet, Malcolm had come home. I knew I had something to do with that. That touching Hazel that day allowed for a tear to form in my body and bring the man through. But why couldn’t I do that for others? Or why couldn’t the Gatekeeper? Then again, it was becoming clear that Milo may have just not known how to even do his job. Sighing, I kept my head low as I walked aimlessly through my own mind, turning left and sometimes right. Never really knowing where I could go. Never knowing where I would end up. The night the ritual had been performed, I had opened my eyes to look down at my Gatekeeper. He knelt in front of a dais, a book that didn’t belong to him open in his lap. Feverishly he muttered out some words that in the end, meant nothing. But there was such a small thread there. One that I could pull on if I wanted to. And oh did I want to. Life had always been fascinating to me. Unattainable in a way. Even death was enticing. To experience death like a living and breathing soul did was a beautiful thing. Years had been spent watching the way everyone lived. The way they came into this world, new, seeing with fresh eyes. How they grew based on their experience. How some welcomed death. Others shunned the shrouded figure away. While others were caught off guard, unsure of how Death had even gotten a hold of their hand. I knew Pen would take care of me when I died. I knew that my death was not forever. I also knew that if I truly wished to live my life, I could not know who I was. So one by one I placed my memories in a bottle and tossed them out to sea, free falling into a spell as old as time and smiling as I did so. “Then why are you conflicted?” A voice called from all around. I sighed, kicking at the floor and watching pebbles roll across the smoke hewn alley before skittering into large stones to build the walls higher around me. Protection was never a bad idea when poking at things unfamiliar. “I’m conflicted because…” [[Because he hid it all from me]] [[Because someone that can do that is dangerous]] [[Because I have emotions I did not before and they have left me scared]] [[Because I have emotions I did not before and they have left me angry]] <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Because I think I love him]]<</if>>“He hid it all from me,” I shouted. “He could have told me at any point in time and he didn’t. He kept it all even when he knew he was in over his head.” “And you chose to place your memories aside so you could hide yourself from him,” the voice answered. “That’s not the same,” I tried. “That’s not…” A frown formed on my lips. My eyes ticked upwards, trying to figure out just who it was that was speaking. I was alone in these empty streets. I felt no presence and saw no shift in the gray matter around me. Tensing, the walls built higher around me as I looked both in front of me and behind. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered back but the world around me felt emptier suddenly. As if something had stepped out of the way and disappeared back into the nothing. Suddenly, the very place that should have been safe, felt unreliable and cold. I scurried through the streets, trying to remember my way to a spot where I felt warm and protected. There had to be somewhere like that, right? Something in this odd little mind-scape that others could not traverse. When it came down to it, I just didn’t want to be alone. That had been the worst part over the last few months. Coming from a world where I felt constantly surrounded in the nothingness of my own mind. [[Go seek out Taliesin again]] [[Explore your own mind]] [[Go back to Pen]]“Because someone that can do that is dangerous,” I answered. “Not only did they keep secrets for months at a time, from me and from their loved ones, but they killed me without a second thought.” “But were you alive to begin with?” a voice asked. “He didn’t know that. And someone that has the ability to commit such an act should not be trusted, right?” There was no answer. My eyes ticked upwards, trying to figure out just who it was that was speaking. I was alone in these empty streets. I felt no presence and saw no shift in the gray matter around me. Tensing, the walls built higher around me as I looked both in front of me and behind. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered back but the world around me felt emptier suddenly. As if something had stepped out of the way and disappeared back into the nothing. Suddenly, the very place that should have been safe, felt unreliable and cold. I scurried through the streets, trying to remember my way to a spot where I felt warm and protected. There had to be somewhere like that, right? Something in this odd little mind-scape that others could not traverse. When it came down to it, I just didn’t want to be alone. That had been the worst part over the last few months. Coming from a world where I felt constantly surrounded in the nothingness of my own mind. [[Go seek out Taliesin again]] [[Explore your own mind]] [[Go back to Pen]]“Because,” I answered. “Because why?” I felt myself shudder, as if a chill swept through me. “Because I didn’t feel before I came down here and after him…” I trailed off, feeling the reality course through me. “I didn’t //feel// before I came to the Night Market but now I do. And it’s left me scared. Angry. Confused." “You wanted emotions.” “I did but…” I frowned. My eyes ticked upwards, trying to figure out just who it was that was speaking. I was alone in these empty streets. I felt no presence and saw no shift in the gray matter around me. Tensing, the walls built higher around me as I looked both in front of me and behind. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered back but the world around me felt emptier suddenly. As if something had stepped out of the way and disappeared back into the nothing. Suddenly, the very place that should have been safe, felt unreliable and cold. I scurried through the streets, trying to remember my way to a spot where I felt warm and protected. There had to be somewhere like that, right? Something in this odd little mind-scape that others could not traverse. When it came down to it, I just didn’t want to be alone. That had been the worst part over the last few months. Coming from a world where I felt constantly surrounded in the nothingness of my own mind. [[Go seek out Taliesin again]] [[Explore your own mind]] [[Go back to Pen]]“He hurt me,” I said. “I may not have known what anger was before coming down to the Night Market but I know it now. And he lied to me for months and then he looked me in the eye and decided that my life wasn’t of value. So I’m pissed.” “But you knew,” the voice responded. “I didn’t know enough,” I shouted back. But there was no one that answered. My eyes ticked upwards, trying to figure out just who it was that was speaking. I was alone in these empty streets. I felt no presence and saw no shift in the gray matter around me. Tensing, the walls built higher around me as I looked both in front of me and behind. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered back but the world around me felt emptier suddenly. As if something had stepped out of the way and disappeared back into the nothing. Suddenly, the very place that should have been safe, felt unreliable and cold. I scurried through the streets, trying to remember my way to a spot where I felt warm and protected. There had to be somewhere like that, right? Something in this odd little mind-scape that others could not traverse. When it came down to it, I just didn’t want to be alone. That had been the worst part over the last few months. Coming from a world where I felt constantly surrounded in the nothingness of my own mind. [[Go seek out Taliesin again]] [[Explore your own mind]] [[Go back to Pen]] I sighed. “Because I think I have fallen in love with him.” “Why does that matter?” the voice asked. “Why wouldn’t it matter?” I questioned back. “I can’t fall in love. Not truly. I’m some weird ghost figure walking my own mind and harassing a goblin who may or may not be at fault for me in this state to begin with. Besides,” I said softly. “He’s the Gatekeeper. The Night Market should not fall in love and they certainly should not fall in love with the Gatekeeper.” “Again, I ask you, why?” I opened my mouth to answer when a frown formed on my lips. My eyes ticked upwards, trying to figure out just who it was that was speaking. I was alone in these empty streets. I felt no presence and saw no shift in the gray matter around me. Tensing, the walls built higher around me as I looked both in front of me and behind. “Hello?” I called out. No one answered back but the world around me felt emptier suddenly. As if something had stepped out of the way and disappeared back into the nothing. Suddenly, the very place that should have been safe, felt unreliable and cold. I scurried through the streets, trying to remember my way to a spot where I felt warm and protected. There had to be somewhere like that, right? Something in this odd little mind-scape that others could not traverse. When it came down to it, I just didn’t want to be alone. That had been the worst part over the last few months. Coming from a world where I felt constantly surrounded in the nothingness of my own mind. [[Go seek out Taliesin again]] [[Explore your own mind]] [[Go back to Pen]] Over the last few months, the one thing that had remained a constant, was Taliesin. Alone, the idea was depressing enough. To know that I now wanted to seek him out because I had no other outlet somehow made it worse. But if I was not going back to my larger self, if I was not about to go to the Night Market itself, then the only one I had to blame for that was the one wandering around my insides and making a new home. Turning my thoughts to the man in the mask, I moved down the alley and was overwhelmed with the scent of peaches. The tree stood in the middle of the misty field, heavy and ripe fruit hanging low on the boughs. The small cottage that I had seen before was situated beneath the shade of it, a puff of curling smoke coming from the brick chimney. Looking around, I could see the walls to the market. The way the alleys still sprawled far beyond my eye. But the homestead had been plopped down, a small section of the market being cut away, so this small area could be pasted upon the world. Walking forward I kept my ears open for the jingle of the bells. The little ornamentation that hung from the curling bone horns. Nothing but the echo of wind whipped through the alley now, caressing the leaves peacefully while sending the smoke to dissipate somewhere in the dark. The door looked like the one that I had gone through before. Where I had fixed Tallard tea. Tallard who would later become Taliesin. A man who would decide my fate. Thinking back to that day, I wondered if things would have been different if I hadn’t gone in. Or was everything already set in motion and that was nothing more than a stroke to the goblins ego? As I rapped my knuckles against the door, I didn’t expect an answer. There was a possibility that a memory might leak through. Something I had not seen that day. But instead, the hinges creaked and the door rolled open on its own. “Hello?” I called out. There was a shuffle from within and the deep scratch from a chair as it dragged across the wood. “That you, Tia?” I stepped inside, peering around the foyer and into the familiar kitchen. A man stood, having just rose from his chair. Tufts of black fur ran up the lines of his arm, disappearing beneath his shirt. A head of dark, curled hair shot through with gray fell around his shoulders, tanned skin worn through with rough sun patches. “Who are you?” “Sorry. I…” The hearth was burning bright, old work boots dying by the gray tinged flames. I remembered them from before. The ones I thought looked too big to be Tallard’s. An old flannel lay across the back of the chair. An ax that was worn and certainly not belonging to a blind man, leaned against the back door. “You live here,” I said with certainty. “I do.” the voice was gruff. “And who are you?” “$name,” I told him. “What are you doing here $name?” [[I was looking for Taliesin]] [[How long have you lived here?]] [[I don’t actually know]] I didn’t want to go see Pen. Not just yet. And I certainly had no desire to go talk to Taliesin again. Not any time soon. While I wanted to keep an eye on the man, I didn’t particularly want to become reliant on him as my source of companionship. There was something nausea inducing even thinking about that. Wrapping my arms around myself, I found myself wishing for the cold. A way to feel something other than this status quo that was coating my skin. Nothing changed here. Everything felt like the same alley stretching on into forever. Neglected, even. Mainly because I had spent my waking hours ceasing to care about these alley ways and instead becoming far more obsessed with the ones that were real out there. That contained actual people. When memories became much more enticing than living my own life, we had a problem. Turning down an alley, I felt a headache brewing. It was at the base of my skull and spearing up through my mind. Around me, I felt the walls rumble, bits of stone crumbling as my fingers curled at my side. It happened occasionally. As if the bigger part of me was trying to call this missing piece home. But, home no longer felt like home. Not anymore. Home was the real world. Home was where the pulse of life actually thrived. It was laughter and it was love and it was even sorrow and death. Home was not the eternal being that fell into long bouts of sleep. I wouldn’t be going there. Then again, I didn’t know if I would be going back to the market proper anymore either. Turning a corner, I stopped. The alleys suddenly split, branching in three different directions. Yet, these alleys were far different than I had seen in the liminal space before. They careened off like normal, the openings a murky gray but as I peered down into each of them, reality began to bend. The first alley smelled of sweet violets and darkness. While the other, was the cloying and burnt scent of basil. Another smelled of cedar and warm spice. And the last was a star field. Something ancient and old that sung quietly in dismay. [[First alley|Belladonna alley]] [[Second alley|Hazel alley]] [[Third alley|Malcolm alley]] [[Fourth alley|Gabriel alley]] <<if $gbpoly== "true">>[[An alley unseen|GB poly]]<</if>> Pen was the only soul within the liminal place that was easily accessible. The one true friend that I could at least go to without feeling as if I was on a wild hunt. Trudging my way outwards, I focused on $hisher well in the Deep. The little underground grotto $heshe considered $hisher. It wasn’t $hisher home, of course, but it was the one that $heshe took most of $hisher meetings in. Because as Pen liked to say, Death had a certain sort of appearance to keep up. Normally, I got to where I was going by focusing in. Thinking of a certain spot and stepping through. The one good thing I could say about the liminal place was that I was not walking the length of the market constantly. The problem was, if my mind wandered, I slipped through the cobblestone cracks. So when I looked up and didn’t see Pen’s underwater meeting spot, but instead, the desolate streets of the market, I paused. The streets were dark. Walls were crumbling as the flicker of flame was all that could be seen within the broken streets. The liminal space was a reflection of the actual Night Market, just without the souls and the shops. An empty prototype, really. But I could see through in the areas that were thinner. As if the real world, the living one, was a layer that was occasionally transposed on top of everything. The bustling streets of the city were no more. Empty stalls were left forgotten. A few displayed candles, mimicking what I was sure was a vendor still holding on in the real world, but most lay abandoned. The scratching silence that wove through the streets spoke of horrors. Lurking souls ready to strike. And every so often, the knocks on the walls would ring out. A desperate soul that had been trapped trying to break back through while others sat, weeping for their loved one's final moments. “It’s horrid, isn’t it?” Pen stood beside me, staring at a wall. With a wave of $hisher hand, a bit more color saturated the surrounding area. A woman sat, her head against the wall, weeping. “Sister is trapped on the other side. It won’t be long now.” [[Isn’t there anything you can do?]] [[What happened?]] [[Why don’t they just break the wall?]]“I was looking for Taliesin Hynsin,” I said, carefully gauging his reaction. I saw it almost immediately. The way that the darkness crept over his features. The echoing sound of bells and jovial laughter filled the room. “That bastard,” the man spat. “I don’t even know who that is but I know the name makes my blood boil.” His nails began to elongate into curved claws, the bones of his cheeks protruding as his lips curled back in a sneer. “You’re not the only one who thinks that of him,” I assured. I didn’t think there would ever be another name that inspired horror quite like Taliesin’s. Rot. I had smelled it when I had made Tallard tea. Without reason, I saw the way Tallard had stepped in and killed this man. Ghostly forms fighting around the room in a memory that was fading. He choked the large beast, catching him unaware and stealing his identity. All for the sake of meeting me. “You’re the werewolf I was supposed to bring tea to that day,” I said with sudden understanding. “You work for the Albright girl?” he asked. “She was responsible for my moon tea.” It was one thing for Taliesin to climb within my own chest. To enact some sort of coup against the market. But for this man to die, to leave behind a daughter? My scorn for Taliesin grew and grew the more I learned of him. “I’m so sorry,” I told the man gently. “I don’t think you are going to want your daughter coming through that door.” It would mean she too was dead. The man’s head hung between his shoulders as if I were only confirming what he already knew. It didn’t take the ache of his child not being here any better. Nor did it make the outcome of his life any less terrible. And with the state of the market, it was not as if he would be returning any time soon. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Luke.” [[I could bring a message to Tia]] [[I will avenge you]] [[I am so sorry you got mixed up in all of this]]“How long have you lived here?” I asked. What I really wanted to ask was how long ago had Taliesin taken over his life. “I am unsure,” he said softly. “It feels like forever.” Time moved in different rates within the market. It moved in a way that catered to each soul that passed through the gates. A year for some may have been several for others. Rot. I had smelled it when I had made Tallard tea. Without reason, I saw the way Tallard had stepped in and killed this man. Ghostly forms fighting around the room in a memory that was fading. He choked the large beast, catching him unaware and stealing his identity. All for the sake of meeting me. “You’re the werewolf I was supposed to bring tea to that day,” I said with sudden understanding. “You work for the Albright girl?” he asked. “She was responsible for my moon tea.” It was one thing for Taliesin to climb within my own chest. To enact some sort of coup against the market. But for this man to die, to leave behind a daughter? My scorn for Taliesin grew and grew the more I learned of him. “I’m so sorry,” I told the man gently. “I don’t think you are going to want your daughter coming through that door.” It would mean she too was dead. The man’s head hung between his shoulders as if I were only confirming what he already knew. It didn’t take the ache of his child not being here any better. Nor did it make the outcome of his life any less terrible. And with the state of the market, it was not as if he would be returning any time soon. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Luke.” [[I could bring a message to Tia]] [[I will avenge you]] [[I am so sorry you got mixed up in all of this]]“I don’t actually know,” I responded. I had been looking for Taliesin and assumed that my brain brought me here because it was one of the last places I had seen him. Other than the ball. But Tallard/Taliesin didn’t live here. He never had. “I was looking for someone but it’s clear I was mistaken. I’m sorry for bothering you.” His face fell, the house around us sagging in response. “I was hoping you were my Tia.” “Tia?” “My daughter. Was hoping she had come home.” A sense of sadness swarmed me. It edged across the paneled walls and crept far up to enshroud the house. “Where did she go?” I asked. “I am unsure. I think I may have died. She does not seem to be coming back to me.” Rot. I had smelled it when I had made Tallard tea. Without reason, I saw the way Tallard had stepped in and killed this man. Ghostly forms fighting around the room in a memory that was fading. He choked the large beast, catching him unaware and stealing his identity. All for the sake of meeting me. “You’re the werewolf I was supposed to bring tea to that day,” I said with sudden understanding. “You work for the Albright girl?” he asked. “She was responsible for my moon tea.” It was one thing for Taliesin to climb within my own chest. To enact some sort of coup against the market. But for this man to die, to leave behind a daughter? My scorn for Taliesin grew and grew the more I learned of him. “I’m so sorry,” I told the man gently. “I don’t think you are going to want your daughter coming through that door.” It would mean she too was dead. The man’s head hung between his shoulders as if I were only confirming what he already knew. It didn’t take the ache of his child not being here any better. Nor did it make the outcome of his life any less terrible. And with the state of the market, it was not as if he would be returning any time soon. “What’s your name?” I asked. “Luke.” [[I could bring a message to Tia]] [[I will avenge you]] [[I am so sorry you got mixed up in all of this]] “Would you like for me to try and get a message to your daughter?” I asked. Luke frowned, seeing me for what felt like the first time. “How would you do that? Are you not a ghost like me?” I didn’t know what I was. A ghost might have been more beneficial. At least from what I had seen from the spirits in the market, they could communicate. I may have been stuck in the place I died but I wouldn’t be entirely alone. Instead, I was wandering here, moving the market out of my way and gaining no benefit from it. “I’m not a ghost,” I told him. “I don’t know what I am. But, I can certainly try to get a message to your daughter.” If anything, I was hoping I would be able to manipulate the surrounding area. Show the girl a sign. The man nodded. “I do not know where she is but, if you can find her, send her a clover. She’ll know it’s me.” “A clover,” I repeated. Closing my eyes I reached out, searching for the image of the girl with the missing clover. She came to almost immediately, the room giving me what I asked for. Tia was small with wide set brown eyes and blue kinky hair. My heart ached that she had lost her father. She was far too young for such a thing. “Hopefully she never came to visit me,” he said sadly. “I do not wish for her to experience whatever happened to me. It’s funny,” he laughed. “I used to beg to see her and now I only hope that she got distracted again and never made it out to the farm.” “Are you okay here?” Normally, the souls that wandered the liminal space lost their way. Forgot themselves. “I do not know,” he said in earnest. “I hope so. But I wish to go home. I tried but maybe I’m not deserving of it yet.” “I don’t think that is the case,” I said. No one was rising. The well was overflowing. The dead that had family members waiting for them, were remaining dead. What good was it to live in such a world when the benefits were all shattered at our feet? [[Is there a way you can hold on until we get this fixed]] [[Maybe I could come back and visit you]] [[You need to find others like you]]“Luke, I don’t know how, but I will make this up to you. I will make this right for you and your family.” It was my fault. His death was on my shoulders. Despite being a cog in Taliesin’s machine, I couldn’t just sit by and let this man suffer. A softness came over his eyes. “How would you even attempt to do such a thing?” “The man that took your life has done terrible things to mine as well. I don’t plan to make his existence easy.” “Will you kill him?” Locks of hair fell to the side as he cocked his head, narrowing his gaze to size me up. As if assessing whether I was capable of such a thing. “Death is far too easy for a man like him.” Behind me, I could feel the rumble of the market, the walls searching for him and making sure he was caged. Wherever Taliesin was, he was not getting far. “Are you okay here?” Normally, the souls that wandered the liminal space lost their way. Forgot themselves. “I do not know,” he said in earnest. “I hope so. But I wish to go home. I tried but maybe I’m not deserving of it yet.” “I don’t think that is the case,” I said. No one was rising. The well was overflowing. The dead that had family members waiting for them, were remaining dead. What good was it to live in such a world when the benefits were all shattered at our feet? [[Is there a way you can hold on until we get this fixed]] [[Maybe I could come back and visit you]] [[You need to find others like you]]“I am so sorry you got mixed up in all of this,” I told the man. Another unfortunate product of a situation far too big for any one person to control. Yet, men like Taliesin always believed they could and I had to wonder what his ultimate end goal was, for him to so easily take a man's life. “It is not your fault,” Luke said in confusion. But wasn’t it? Luke. Tia. All the others that had fallen during this ruse. Hadn’t they died under my care? My watch? I came down to the Night Market, the life of the world, and tossed aside my duties because I wanted to experience love and the vivacity of life itself. I had been selfish and had not understood. And during the process, men like this had perished with no way to return. Was that my fault? Were entities such as me allowed to have feelings? It was a concept I didn’t feel ready to face yet. It was edged in such ugliness that I couldn’t stand the thought. So instead, I took a deep breath and addressed the man. “Are you okay here?” Normally, the souls that wandered the liminal space lost their way. Forgot themselves. “I do not know,” he said in earnest. “I hope so. But I wish to go home. I tried but maybe I’m not deserving of it yet.” “I don’t think that is the case,” I said. No one was rising. The well was overflowing. The dead that had family members waiting for them, were remaining dead. What good was it to live in such a world when the benefits were all shattered at our feet? [[Is there a way you can hold on until we get this fixed]] [[Maybe I could come back and visit you]] [[You need to find others like you]] Many became lost. Spirits that did not immediately return to the well often times wandered the liminal recesses with no course of action. Ever had been that way, disappearing for brief times from the market. Sometimes losing herself completely to a sleep. Other times wandering these alleyways, looking for a way out. I wondered if Luke had a place that he haunted in the area of the living. Or, if he was clinging to the idea of ‘home’. “Is there a way you can hold on until we get this fixed?” I asked him. “I am working with Death to figure out why you are not able to reincarnate.” “You know Death?” “Friends since the beginning of time,” I said quickly. “I am very hopeful that we’ll be able to fix whatever this thing is that’s keeping people from being reborn.” Hope bloomed in his eyes. “I could get back to my Tia?” “I hope so.” I felt my heart stutter. This man could very well disappear into nothing. Forever be gone because of whatever was going on in my own world. More than ever, I had to find a way out of here and back to the Night Market proper. “Are there others that you have seen? Anyone passing by here?” I asked. Luke shook his head slowly. But I knew people would be here. Not many but they would be here. Maybe if I went to go and find them, we could figure out a way to get them all home. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about the rules of death. I died once but I came back quickly.” “You died once?” I latched onto it. The process could tell us something. “I need to know everything that happened,” I told him. He nodded. “Would you like some tea?” [[I don’t have a good track record with tea here]] [[How do you make tea while not alive]] [[The company would be nice]] “Maybe I could come back and visit you,” I told him. “Keep you some amount of company while you wait.” “Why would you do that?” “Because no one should have to sit alone in their thoughts. Everyone deserves compassion.” I felt my heart stutter. This man could very well disappear into nothing. Forever be gone because of whatever was going on in my own world. More than ever, I had to find a way out of here and back to the Night Market proper. “Are there others that you have seen? Anyone passing by here?” I asked. Luke shook his head slowly. But I knew people would be here. Not many but they would be here. Maybe if I went to go and find them, we could figure out a way to get them all home. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about the rules of death. I died once but I came back quickly.” “You died once?” I latched onto it. The process could tell us something. “I need to know everything that happened,” I told him. He nodded. “Would you like some tea?” [[I don’t have a good track record with tea here]] [[How do you make tea while not alive]] [[The company would be nice]] “You need to find others like you,” I encouraged. There wasn’t many that wandered around the liminal space but they were here. Ever had said she would occasionally run into them. “You need to venture out. See if there are people you can make connections with.” “I do not want to leave my home in case Tia comes here.” “But that would mean that something terrible has happened to your daughter.” “Which is exactly why I want to be here,” he said firmly. “The whispers of the market have not been favorable. If something happens to her, I will not let her wander alone.” “But you might fade.” Sitting alone and forgotten in a room where no one would find him would leave him lost to a life he no longer had. The idea of it was disheartening and I had to wonder how many more in the market were in his predicament as well. “I will not fade.” “How do you know?” “Because a love that one has for their child supersedes everything in life.” I felt my heart stutter. This man could very well disappear into nothing. Forever be gone because of whatever was going on in my own world. More than ever, I had to find a way out of here and back to the Night Market proper. “Are there others that you have seen? Anyone passing by here?” I asked. Luke shook his head slowly. But I knew people would be here. Not many but they would be here. Maybe if I went to go and find them, we could figure out a way to get them all home. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about the rules of death. I died once but I came back quickly.” “You died once?” I latched onto it. The process could tell us something. “I need to know everything that happened,” I told him. He nodded. “Would you like some tea?” [[I don’t have a good track record with tea here]] [[How do you make tea while not alive]] [[The company would be nice]] “I don’t have a good track record when it comes to tea in this house,” I said, a touch of bitterness coloring me. “Well, that’s fine,” he said. “Because it’s not really tea. Or, at least it won’t be unless you make the decision for it to be. I don’t really taste it anymore.” Food. Drink. The pleasures of life. I had forgotten how they didn’t exist here. It had been one of the many things that had once fascinated me. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t eaten or drank anything since coming back here. I watched as he went about the kitchen, brewing us both a cup. The smells that filled the room were real. Not muted like the rest of the gray space had been. The longer I existed in the space with Luke, the more the cold gray of the liminal space began to get pushed away. If we had not known better, it would have felt like life was just outside the door. A steaming cup was put in front of me as Luke took his position at the table. It was empty, however. I wanted it to be tea, though. I wanted something to be //real//. Lifting the mug to my lips, I sipped at the nothingness, a burst of warmth filling me. I smiled at Luke from across the table, curling my fingers tighter around the pinpoint of warmth. “When you died last. How did you get back?” “It was not that hard, to be honest. I knew I had died. The transformation had not taken well and I was gone within two days.” My eyes ran up and down his arms and the fur that stood out. The narrowness to the eyes. The wolf like bones that edged into the slight curve of a snout. “You came back a wolf?” “I did. I had hoped I would come back a man but from what I can gather, we do not always get to choose.” Taking a sip of his tea, he leaned back. “I did a lot of searching the second time around. Using the rebirth as a way to figure out what my options were if this was to happen again. Apparently, if you are not given the choice, Death believes there is a lesson you have yet to learn.” “What was your lesson?” I asked, thinking of Pen. It certainly sounded like something Pen would do. “To control my anger. Control the change. I nearly killed Tia the first time around.” His head dipped down. “It is why her mother and I are not together anymore. Only recently was she allowed to come over again.” “And then you died,” I breathed. “Yes. The Night Market is a terrifying and unforgiving place. It is certainly no place for children with curious minds and open hearts.” [[How can I make it better?]] [[I don’t think I am that unforgiving]] [[I don’t think I’m unforgiving enough]] I tipped my head to the side. “How exactly is it you make tea while not alive?” I asked. “Magic,” he said cryptically. “And by magic, I mean suspending your disbelief. If you think it’s there, it will be there. Otherwise, it’s going to be an empty cup. The cup might even disappear on you if you’re not careful.” I watched as he went about the kitchen, brewing us both a cup. The smells that filled the room were real. Not muted like the rest of the gray space had been. The longer I existed in the space with Luke, the more the cold gray of the liminal space began to get pushed away. If we had not known better, it would have felt like life was just outside the door. A steaming cup was put in front of me as Luke took his position at the table. It was empty, however. I wanted it to be tea, though. I wanted something to be //real//. Lifting the mug to my lips, I sipped at the nothingness, a burst of warmth filling me. I smiled at Luke from across the table, curling my fingers tighter around the pinpoint of warmth. “When you died last. How did you get back?” “It was not that hard, to be honest. I knew I had died. The transformation had not taken well and I was gone within two days.” My eyes ran up and down his arms and the fur that stood out. The narrowness to the eyes. The wolf like bones that edged into the slight curve of a snout. “You came back a wolf?” “I did. I had hoped I would come back a man but from what I can gather, we do not always get to choose.” Taking a sip of his tea, he leaned back. “I did a lot of searching the second time around. Using the rebirth as a way to figure out what my options were if this was to happen again. Apparently, if you are not given the choice, Death believes there is a lesson you have yet to learn.” “What was your lesson?” I asked, thinking of Pen. It certainly sounded like something Pen would do. “To control my anger. Control the change. I nearly killed Tia the first time around.” His head dipped down. “It is why her mother and I are not together anymore. Only recently was she allowed to come over again.” “And then you died,” I breathed. “Yes. The Night Market is a terrifying and unforgiving place. It is certainly no place for children with curious minds and open hearts.” [[How can I make it better?]] [[I don’t think I am that unforgiving]] [[I don’t think I’m unforgiving enough]]“The company would be nice,” I told him, sitting down at the kitchen table. The situation was reversed as Luke stepped up and went to go make the tea. The kettle was the same, the tea was in the same cabinet. Taliesin had taken this man's life and stole it for his own. I watched as he went about the kitchen, brewing us both a cup. The smells that filled the room were real. Not muted like the rest of the gray space had been. The longer I existed in the space with Luke, the more the cold gray of the liminal space began to get pushed away. If we had not known better, it would have felt like life was just outside the door. A steaming cup was put in front of me as Luke took his position at the table. It was empty, however. I wanted it to be tea, though. I wanted something to be //real//. Lifting the mug to my lips, I sipped at the nothingness, a burst of warmth filling me. I smiled at Luke from across the table, curling my fingers tighter around the pinpoint of warmth. “When you died last. How did you get back?” “It was not that hard, to be honest. I knew I had died. The transformation had not taken well and I was gone within two days.” My eyes ran up and down his arms and the fur that stood out. The narrowness to the eyes. The wolf like bones that edged into the slight curve of a snout. “You came back a wolf?” “I did. I had hoped I would come back a man but from what I can gather, we do not always get to choose.” Taking a sip of his tea, he leaned back. “I did a lot of searching the second time around. Using the rebirth as a way to figure out what my options were if this was to happen again. Apparently, if you are not given the choice, Death believes there is a lesson you have yet to learn.” “What was your lesson?” I asked, thinking of Pen. It certainly sounded like something Pen would do. “To control my anger. Control the change. I nearly killed Tia the first time around.” His head dipped down. “It is why her mother and I are not together anymore. Only recently was she allowed to come over again.” “And then you died,” I breathed. “Yes. The Night Market is a terrifying and unforgiving place. It is certainly no place for children with curious minds and open hearts.” [[How can I make it better?]] [[I don’t think I am that unforgiving]] [[I don’t think I’m unforgiving enough]]“How do you think I can make it better?” I asked. Luke looked curiously towards me. “You wish to make it better?” I nodded, sipping at my tea and trying to remember that this was a part of partaking in hospitality. “I– well I don’t know. How can one person make anything better for so many? I don’t know if it is possible.” “But there has to be something,” I said. “A way to make lives easier.” Luke sat back, contemplating that statement. “I think there are things that are unfair in life. That need to always be addressed. I think there are things outside an individual’s control. But I do not like the idea of my life being dependent on someone else's decisions.” “But, I could help. I could–” “Do what? Make the monsters run into the dark?” He shook his head. “It is not within anyone's capability.” That was the thing though. It very well could have been within mine. “You said I.” “What?” I asked, my gaze snapping towards him. “You asked how you could make things better. How //I// can make things better. Why would you phrase something like that? You are like me, are you not?” I bowed my head. Was it still a secret to keep? [[I am the Night Market]] [[I’m someone who just wants to help]] [[Never mind]]“I don’t think I’m that unforgiving,” I told him. I had designed my life on helping. I opened myself up to drying worlds at a detriment to myself. Because the thought of all those souls going quiet out there in the beyond was too heavy a thought to handle. And the silence was crushing. But it was the people within the Night Market that were starting to suffer. That was where my fear ended up lying. While walking the streets I had seen so much wonder. A globe filled with the intricacies and fascinations that made life worth living. I had also seen fear and anger that produced paranoia that ruined lives. I had seen people who believed themselves unclean. One who believed the kindness they were given was not something they deserved. I had heard the way people spoke of the kind. How they revered the evil. How no one had a voice because this was simply the way it had always been done. I wanted to help the dying. But I did not want to bring them to a life lacking joy. “You said I.” “What?” I asked, my gaze snapping towards them. “You said that you didn’t think of yourself as unforgiving when referencing the Night Market. //I// am not unforgiving,” he repeated. “Interesting way to phrase that when you are trapped out here just like me.” I bowed my head. Was it still a secret to keep? [[I am the Night Market]] [[I’m someone who just wants to help]] [[Never mind]]“I’m not sure that I’m unforgiving enough,” I told him honestly. There were a few things I had learned by walking through the market. One of them being that my empathy was killing me. I was tearing myself apart to save others while the ones put in place to keep everyone safe were more self-serving than they were accommodating. The Barons rarely made policies that protected people. The Warden was blindly following orders that came from dead Wardens long before him. And my Gatekeeper, the one created to protect me, hadn’t even done his job for the first five years and perhaps overcompensated after. “Living within the market, there are problems,” Luke said. “Too many different cultures and rules. It is a design that would never work.” “It could if people showed some common decency,” I said. “A perfect world,” the man muttered. “I wonder if one even exists.” I thought about what I wanted the Night Market to be. The kind of world I wanted it to reflect. Because it was so much bigger than just me and for some reason, I was going to have sway over the outcome. Or at least, I was going to make sure I did. Before, I had sat back, focusing on the worlds beyond and losing sight of the people within until they cried too loud. I was no longer sure if that was the correct thing to do. “You said I.” “What?” I asked, my gaze snapping towards them. “You said that you didn’t think of yourself as unforgiving enough when referencing the Night Market. //I// am too forgiving,” he repeated. “Interesting way to phrase that when you are trapped out here just like me.” I bowed my head. Was it still a secret to keep? [[I am the Night Market]] [[I’m someone who just wants to help]] [[Never mind]]“I am the Night Market,” I told him. There was probably no point in beating around the bush any longer. Being the Night Market shouldn’t be a dirty secret to hide. Luke, however, didn’t take the news as easily as I was hoping. Instead, he stared at me, puzzling out my words. “How are you a literal world?’ “I’m an incarnation of it,” I told him. “It’s confusing and complicated and a little surreal but the point I’m trying to make is, I can acknowledge that things will need to change. I //want// them to change.” Staring at me, he sipped at his tea some more. There was little doubt in my mind. He didn’t believe me at all. Finishing our tea, I bid my goodbye’s to Luke, stepping back out into the grey expanse of the market. I blinked a few times, having forgotten just what it looked like. While sitting inside, the color had become more and more pronounced. The peach tree was the only thing of vibrancy now. The ripe peaches swaying tantalizingly on the branches. The Night Market. A place that was welcoming to all and yet beat so many down at the same time. If I was able to get back, or to get my powers, I needed to focus on what to do next. [[Continue to focus on those in need outside the world]] [[Put more care into the world of the Night Market]] [[Treat the Night Market with more tough love]]“I’m just someone who wants to help,” I explained to him. I could have told him I was the Night Market. Maybe he would have even believed me. But the explanation that would have to come with it was not one I wanted to deal with. Not right now. “That’s kind of you,” he said with a sigh. “But I’m not going to hold it against you if you don’t succeed.” Finishing our tea, I bid my goodbye’s to Luke, stepping back out into the grey expanse of the market. I blinked a few times, having forgotten just what it looked like. While sitting inside, the color had become more and more pronounced. The peach tree was the only thing of vibrancy now. The ripe peaches swaying tantalizingly on the branches. The Night Market. A place that was welcoming to all and yet beat so many down at the same time. If I was able to get back, or to get my powers, I needed to focus on what to do next. [[Continue to focus on those in need outside the world]] [[Put more care into the world of the Night Market]] [[Treat the Night Market with more tough love]]“Never mind,” I told him. There was no point in this. I didn’t need the clout. I didn’t need the recognition. I just needed to fix what was wrong. Or at least try something new. Finishing our tea, I bid my goodbye’s to Luke, stepping back out into the grey expanse of the market. I blinked a few times, having forgotten just what it looked like. While sitting inside, the color had become more and more pronounced. The peach tree was the only thing of vibrancy now. The ripe peaches swaying tantalizingly on the branches. The Night Market. A place that was welcoming to all and yet beat so many down at the same time. If I was able to get back, or to get my powers, I needed to focus on what to do next. [[Continue to focus on those in need outside the world]] [[Put more care into the world of the Night Market]] [[Treat the Night Market with more tough love]] Going forward, I wanted to stay true to what the Night Market was founded on. A place for the lost. Finding those within the world that would no longer be, and bringing them into safety. It tore at me. Each time it wracked across my skin. But the silence in the Universe was becoming eerily vast. I couldn’t sit by and pretend like I didn’t care. I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Going forward, I would need to put more care into the people that I was housing within the Night Market. The ones that were already here. It was one thing to save people but it was another to leave them floundering. And while the majority of the people in the world were perhaps thriving, the deep and dark underbelly was brewing. Something was reaching out with sharp claws and shredding me from the inside and I desperately needed to save the ones that would perish because of it. I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Going forward, I needed to treat the market with far more tough love than I had before. The people within the world that were causing such strife needed to go. I was the world they all breathed in. The one that they all walked upon every day. But there was no respect. Not with any of the ones in charge. Not with the arbitrary rules. And I was done. But nothing, in the end, was going to change, unless I could figure out a way to pull what I was out from the beyond and harness it at the tips of my fingers. I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Belladonna sat at a curling black table of dead ivy and gilded birch. Papers were all around her, a glass of wine perched between her fingers. There was never a point in time where I thought Belladonna could //look// tired, but today, I could feel it. Her eyes drifted over fine print words as she flipped the papers aside. “More blood, mistress?” A statuesque woman stepped forward, tipping her neck to the side. “No.” The girl scurried away without another word. Belladonna didn’t even bother to glance at her. “You do need to eat,” a voice to my right said. I vaguely recognized the woman as one of the ones that had been within the chapel on the night of Kavatti’s death. I assumed that they were loyal if Belladonna kept them around. “I am eating right now,” Belladonna responded, turning another page. She tipped the wine glass upwards. I could see the film that the ‘wine’ left on the glass. “Something warm, Baron. There are individuals lining up for you. Why will you not sip from them?” “Because they are undeserving,” she said, sounding bored of the conversation already. The woman looked entirely unconvinced but wisely said nothing more. Instead, they stood, back straight against the wall, staring ahead. They were situated at Belladonna’s blood bar. I could hear the bustle of the crowd just beyond. It sounded like it was a busy night. Though, with the way that Belladonna was glaring at her reports, I knew that it could be deceiving. “Why are the numbers down?” Belladonna finally asked, tossing aside the papers. “Do you wish for the truth?” “If I did not, why would I ask?” The woman sighed. “Some find you being a Baron to be a bit of a turn-off.” “I would rather think they would find it to be most pleasing. Isn’t it a dream to try and dominate a woman of power? Aren’t most cultures founded on the subjection of women? I would think they would all be lining up around the block to see me fail.” The woman didn’t even twitch in reaction. “Your puritan upbringing may be getting in the way there.” Belladonna rose abruptly. “Fix it,” she snapped. “I did not hire you to take care of my business just for it to fail. If I do not see a success in the days to come, it will be you that I make my meal from.” She shoved the papers at the woman, the snap of her heels puncturing the air as she walked from the room. [[Follow Belladonna]] [[Follow the other woman]] Apothecary Alley looked just as lifeless as it always had. I remembered when it had been alive and bustling. A street so full of different sights and smells with music pouring from soft lit windows and big pots of lavender and oregano blooming outside the storefronts. One of the few streets with indoor stores instead of booths and blankets. And then it had all burned, turning into an ashen wasteland. It was funny really. When I had been alive and wandering, I had seen the spirits out of the corner of my eye. Echos of the dead that haunted the streets. Now, they were bowing to me. That, or scurrying back so I couldn’t reach out for them. I couldn’t tell if they were here with me or if they were just impressions. For all I knew, they were signs posted by Pen. I came upon Hazel’s soon enough, the glittering smoke from her bent chimney oddly absent. The shop looked abandoned. Dark and without the warm smell of bread cooling on the upper landing window. Even the wisps didn’t seem to be around. Their glowing home high within the birch tree was all but empty. Nothing but faint little lights that occasionally flickered. I hoped that this was not the reality of Hazel’s place now. I hoped this was just a bad memory I was walking towards. The back door opened and I could see Hazel walk into the garden. Her hair was lank at her shoulders, looking unwashed and knotted. She wore a simple shift dress made of deep green. Her usual shirts and patches and tonics that she always had tied to her hips, nowhere to be found. Billows was at her feet, rubbing up against her ankles, but she was paying him no mind. Hazel knelt within the garden. I had looked out my windows most mornings to see her do such a thing. Today, however, there was blood on her hands. It tinted her skin a rusty brown and beneath the bed of each fingernail, I could see the deep acid of a green beginning to form. When her head suddenly bent forward and the tears began streaking her cheeks, I tried to go to her. But when I passed through the crumbling stone gate, I remembered how much I didn’t belong in the world any longer. That I was now an outsider. What I had always been. [[Try to affect the world so she knows you’re there]] [[Try to go to a different memory]] [[Sit with her in silence]] Turning down the alley, I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me. A warm light engulfed the end of the dark street, the road sloping downwards. I followed it, hearing the light notes of jazz, the record skipping over the gramophone. Malcolm’s front door was open before me, peeking into the brightly lit home with the enchanted windows. Dust still covered the bookshelves and end tables. The air still smelled stale. Malcolm stood in the middle of the room, hand clutched to his side. He wore a oversized black sweater, hanging loose around the collar and a pair of black sweats. His feet were bare. His hair around his face. He was looking around the room with a small sigh. “Welcome home,” he said to himself. My gut twisted. It was his first time back. A memory of him entering into the home that he had acquired for himself. He must have left Hazel’s by now. Given the way she had hovered, I assumed it wouldn’t have taken him long. But now, he was here, in a very quiet and dusty past that he had left so long ago. Limping into the kitchen, he began opening up cabinets, taking stock of what he had. Old plates and bowls were still stacked. A few cups off to the side. He found an old box of tea but nothing else. I could see by the door Hazel’s customary gift basket. But even it looked lackluster. A loaf of bread and some leftover stew. I startled as the cupboard door slammed shut. Malcolm was leaning against the counter top when I turned to him, breathing deeply. “Lamplight.” The whispered nickname. The one he had called me since becoming the Gatekeeper. I could feel it. The way it wrapped around me, connecting him to me. But like all the times before, I knew I wouldn’t be able to answer. Stepping towards him, I went to stand by him in the kitchen. I remembered many evenings floating by him, dipping the lanterns down low for some of our chats. I had many Gatekeepers in my lifetime and only a few of them had ever treated me with individuality. Malcolm had always been one of the better ones. Banging his head against the recently closed cabinet, I watched how his eyes closed. “I should have known what he was going to do,” Malcolm muttered. [[There’s no way you could have known]] [[You are not responsible for Milo’s choices]] [[We were all fooled by him]] The fourth alley stretched out into an endless night, little pricks of light dotting the canvas in an arched tunnel. Slowly, I began walking down it, feeling the surrounding stone disappear beneath my feet. I could hear whispers, bits of conversation filtering back at me. Memories that were not my own, reaching out with thin, bonelike fingers, asking for me to take their hand. I entered the darkness, plunged into nothingness. The entirety of the cosmos flashes before me before blinking out into nothingness. A flash so bright that I felt blinded, falling down below the field of celestial dust. “$name.” It was a whisper. Carried to me on the wings of a bird. Slight and incomplete but wrapping around me and leading me through the dark. [[Next|Gabriel 1]] Gabriel was alone in his office. His sword was covered in blood and ichor and leaning against the wall. Outside, I could hear the booted feet of the guard running back and forth, the sounds of their comings and goings muffled inside the office. Standing in the middle of the room, Gabriel remained unblinking for a long moment. His gloves were gone and his hands nearly black with cracked veins. Staring straight ahead, he swayed slightly in place. There was no emotion emanating from him. No sign that he was even aware of where he was or if he walked here out of habit. “Gabriel?” I stepped forward but he did not see me. I noticed that black suit he still wore. The ball. The ball had just ended. “Warden,” a man burst into the room. “There are about a dozen more of them. Where am I putting them?” Gabriel blinked, coming to. “Shove them all in a cell. I don’t care.” “But processing?” “You think we have time for processing?” He asked coldly. Dark circles were painted beneath his eyes like thick smudges of charcoal. I could see the blood that darkened his uniform. The guard only looked a little better, his face ragged and lined with stress. Gabriel turned sharply to him when he did not leave. “Put them in the cells, lieutenant and turn your mind from them.” “Yes, sir,” the man said, slipping back out of the office. Gabriel’s chest rose and fell at an uneven rate. Each finger flexed and curled, his skin cracking a letting through spots of silver tinged blood. When he grabbed for his sword again, I jumped as it was thrown, embedded into the door where the man had just been standing. I watched as he began to tear apart his office. Papers shredding in his grip, his desk flipping upwards and breaking across the ground. Silver filled the room in a high-pitched scream before falling away to see the Warden bent forward, weeping. [[Try to assure him]] [[At least he’s showing emotion]] [[Cry as well]] “Gabriel,” I started, knowing he couldn’t hear me. This was a memory. Long gone for the time being. Something I could observe but not affect. But I wanted to try either way. I couldn’t just leave him in such pain. “Gabriel, please. I will be coming back,” I told him. “I know this hurts now but I’m not leaving everyone. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>I’m not leaving you.<</if>> You just need to give me time to figure out how to get back down here.” I hadn’t thought of death like this. About how I was gone and back where I came from but in my absence, others would have to grieve. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> And Gabriel. My dear Gabriel. The man who thought he could protect me, falling to the whims of a fate that was so much bigger than him.<</if>> Why had I done this? Why had I come down here and thought that I would leave without recourse? Life didn’t work that way. Even individual’s like Gabriel were not without feeling. But I had been. I had been far more entranced. There was a time that the sight of this man, fallen to his knees and bereft, would have intrigued me. I would have watched with rapt fascination for the scope of what made him this way. Now, I merely want to extend my comfort to him and tell him how sorry I truly was. “I’m sorry,” his own words were muttered back at me, sounding over and over against as he rocked back and forth. “I am so sorry that I did not protect you.” Protect me. The creed in which he lived his life by. I didn’t know how he could feel such responsibility but I could see the way it landed on his shoulders, unmoving. Behind me, another path opened. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “No. No I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with him.” I didn’t know who I was even speaking to or why. Gabriel was now frozen before me, his eyes filled with a soft silver glow, the look of raw pain panted across his face.<</if>> It didn’t matter if I wanted to stay or not. Walls began to move in front of me, engulfing me in the grey space of an alley and pulling me from Gabriel’s side. I was plunged into darkness then. Nothing but a dull silver light pulsing in the distance. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Sink lower into the darkness]]<</if>> [[Go towards the light]] “Well,” I started. “At least he’s showing emotion. I suppose that’s something.” The taciturn man who viewed the world in strict black and white. Grey not even being in his vocabulary. To see him like this was so different from before. The anger that burst from him was the kind that could bring a market to its knees. I understood now why so many had bowed out of his way when he walked the streets. They knew this Warden. Not the even mannered one. Why had I done this? Why had I come down here and thought that I would leave without recourse? Life didn’t work that way. Even individual’s like Gabriel were not without feeling. But I had been. I had been far more entranced. There was a time that the sight of this man, fallen to his knees and bereft, would have intrigued me. I would have watched with rapt fascination for the scope of what made him this way. Now, I merely want to extend my comfort to him and tell him how sorry I truly was. “I’m sorry,” his own words were muttered back at me, sounding over and over against as he rocked back and forth. “I am so sorry that I did not protect you.” Protect me. The creed in which he lived his life by. I didn’t know how he could feel such responsibility but I could see the way it landed on his shoulders, unmoving. Behind me, another path opened. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “No. No I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with him.” I didn’t know who I was even speaking to or why. Gabriel was now frozen before me, his eyes filled with a soft silver glow, the look of raw pain panted across his face.<</if>> It didn’t matter if I wanted to stay or not. Walls began to move in front of me, engulfing me in the grey space of an alley and pulling me from Gabriel’s side. I was plunged into darkness then. Nothing but a dull silver light pulsing in the distance. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Sink lower into the darkness]]<</if>> [[Go towards the light]] A sudden wetness coated my cheeks. Bringing my fingers up, they came away damp. Grey drips washing across my skin. I felt it choke me. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I had promised him. I had promised him that everything was going to be okay. But I hadn’t remembered. Death was a friend of mine and I had forgotten completely that in a matter of days, I would be gone.<</if>> Sorrow washed over me. Gabriel had felt responsible for the market and tonight, the result of what he considered a failure was playing out before him. I didn’t know what the state of the ball looked like but I was almost certain it was far more than the dousing of the lights. Why had I done this? Why had I come down here and thought that I would leave without recourse? Life didn’t work that way. Even individual’s like Gabriel were not without feeling. But I had been. I had been far more entranced. There was a time that the sight of this man, fallen to his knees and bereft, would have intrigued me. I would have watched with rapt fascination for the scope of what made him this way. Now, I merely want to extend my comfort to him and tell him how sorry I truly was. “I’m sorry,” his own words were muttered back at me, sounding over and over against as he rocked back and forth. “I am so sorry that I did not protect you.” Protect me. The creed in which he lived his life by. I didn’t know how he could feel such responsibility but I could see the way it landed on his shoulders, unmoving. Behind me, another path opened. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “No. No I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with him.” I didn’t know who I was even speaking to or why. Gabriel was now frozen before me, his eyes filled with a soft silver glow, the look of raw pain panted across his face.<</if>> It didn’t matter if I wanted to stay or not. Walls began to move in front of me, engulfing me in the grey space of an alley and pulling me from Gabriel’s side. I was plunged into darkness then. Nothing but a dull silver light pulsing in the distance. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Sink lower into the darkness]]<</if>> [[Go towards the light]] A cry cut through the dark. It was wet and pleading and coated in raw pain. “That really the way you want to be takin’ this?” “What do you care?” A crack of bone echoed so loudly in my ears that I felt myself wince. A sharp scream careened through the wet and sandy shore. Reese stood in front of me. Gabriel’s adoptive father. He wore his typical black leather pants and open vest tonight. The tattoos running across his dark skin. Arms crossed, he looked at Gabriel, observing his son with an unreadable expression. Gabriel, on the other hand, loomed over a man, his boot on their throat. “I don’t care,” Reese said. “This is your show. But, as the Warden of the Night Market, are you gonna feel guilty after this? I don’t really want to pussyfoot around a situation ‘cause it might hurt your feelings.” “Shut up, Reese,” Gabriel snapped. Reese backed away, hands up in submission. The man beneath Gabriel was beaten and barely conscious. I doubted Gabriel’s boot even needed to stay there. “One more time,” Gabriel said. “Where is he?” The man coughed as Gabriel’s boot jostled him. “I don’t know,” he gurgled. Crouching, the singing sound of metal as it was pulled from its sheath, crashed along with the waves just beyond. “This isn’t a negotiation where I ask a question, you deny it, and then I ask again. You only have this one chance.” The man arched up, eyes hardened. “You really think I know where he is? Fucking little squirly kid isn’t even on my radar.” “Not what Reese over there told me. He said you were with him three nights ago.” Reese waved, wiggling his fingers and grinning widely. The smell of whiskey and smoke surrounded him. “So, this is the last chance you get. Where is Milo Next?” Gabriel’s entire being lit with a silver fire, black veins running across him in a scream. The man’s jaw twitched. “I don’t know.” [[Turn away]] [[Watch the man die]] “The light will do you good.” Gabriel stood at a large bay window, staring out at a marbled statue garden, the sunlight pouring in. Behind him, Elias hovered, his hands wringing together. The bloodless pallor of his lips looking chapped and worried. “Perhaps you should move in with me,” he was telling Gabriel. “Alone in that little place of yours. I don’t like thinking of it, Gabriel.” “I’m at the office most of the time,” he said, voice sounding hollow. It spread a coat of worry across Elias’s face. “That’s the other thing. You are going to need to take a small step back, I think. You are working a bit too much and–” Gabriel turned, his sword clanking against his thigh. “Is there something else the Warden of the market is supposed to be doing? Shouldn’t I remain vigilant?” “There is vigilance and then there is this,” Elias intoned. “Please, son. You are draining yourself of the last bit of grace you have left. I cannot lose you.” A muscle twitched in Gabriel’s jaw. In the clear afternoon light, surrounded by white marbled tile, Gabriel’s skin looked ashen. His uniform was buttoned up tight and his leather gloves were cinched in place. But his face had none of the vibrancy of before. Part of me wondered if we were all just so used to the dark that we didn’t realize what we looked like. But I had seen him here before. He had never looked… sick. “This is not about you, Elias,” Gabriel was saying. “And the moment you make it such I will not be returning. Do you understand me?” Elias bowed his head. I had never heard such vitriol in his voice before. “Of course. I didn’t mean–” “For you to even insinuate that I shouldn’t be protecting the market is insulting. Disrespectful. Given the needed edicts within the market itself, you do understand that this is an arrestable offense, correct?” Elias’s lips tightened at the threat. “I am a Baron.” “Yes,” he sneered. “And you have all proven to be of very little moral decency. Not something that the market should have.” There was a moment of bold tension cutting through the room. Given my experience with Elias before, I expected the shorter man to start screaming. But he merely took a deep breath and tapped his shiny shoes against the ground with a click. “Well,” he said. “I will go and retrieve your next dose.” Gabriel said nothing. [[Get a closer look at his face]] [[Get a closer look at his eyes]] [[Try to follow Elias]] I turned away, averting my eyes. I didn’t want to see what Gabriel would do. I didn’t want to see what he could become. But I heard it all the same. I heard the moment that man's life left his body. The strangled breath that escaped him. Reese let out a low whistle. “This guy really pissed you off, huh?” Sheathing his sword, Gabriel picked up the body, dragging it towards the ocean and tossing it to the Deep. The waves tumbled over the corpse, taking him out where no one would be able to reach him. “You better hope he doesn’t come back,” Reese said. “That kind of death usually means that they’ll be gunning for you.” Turning, Gabriel stormed back towards Reese, fury etched across his face. “I thought you said he would know where Next was. I thought you said you had seen the two of them.” Reese did not balk. Merely raised a brow. “I don’t lie, son. You want to think about the accusations you’re beginning to lay on?” “I came to you for help,” he snapped. “And I’ll give it to you. But I can’t control what others think or do. You out of everyone should know that.” For a brief moment, I thought Gabriel was going to hit him. He stood taller than Reese, not by much, but his bulk made him far more imposing. Reese continued to smile at him, but the smile was far more predatory than before. With a snarl, Gabriel turned and walked away, storming halfway down the street. [[Next|Gabriel 3]] Gabriel wasn’t going to kill him. He was a celestial. He was the Warden of the entire market. He upheld the law to a fault at times. But I watched him stand, looking nonchalantly out at sea before taking his boot and bringing it down on the guy's neck. With a snap, the man perished. Reese let out a low whistle. “This guy really pissed you off, huh?” Sheathing his sword, Gabriel picked up the body, dragging it towards the ocean and tossing it to the Deep. The waves tumbled over the corpse, taking him out where no one would be able to reach him. “You better hope he doesn’t come back,” Reese said. “That kind of death usually means that they’ll be gunning for you.” Turning, Gabriel stormed back towards Reese, fury etched across his face. “I thought you said he would know where Next was. I thought you said you had seen the two of them.” Reese did not balk. Merely raised a brow. “I don’t lie, son. You want to think about the accusations you’re beginning to lay on?” “I came to you for help,” he snapped. “And I’ll give it to you. But I can’t control what others think or do. You out of everyone should know that.” For a brief moment, I thought Gabriel was going to hit him. He stood taller than Reese, not by much, but his bulk made him far more imposing. Reese continued to smile at him, but the smile was far more predatory than before. With a snarl, Gabriel turned and walked away, storming halfway down the street. I was then snapped back into the grey wash of the Night Markets streets just as quickly as I came. [[Next|Gabriel 3]] Stepping forward, I tried to get a closer look at his face. The pallor of which was dead and cracked through. Gabriel hardly resembled the vital warrior that the market had put in place as the Warden. If he didn’t pull himself together soon, his position in the market was going to be challenged. And while I didn’t necessarily care if Gabriel stayed Warden or not, I know it was his last shred of sanity. Helping people had always gotten Gabriel through even the darkest paths. But he was fading. Cracking apart at the seams. The Gabriel that once was had been washed away, leaving this shell of a man. “You have to get better,” I told him, whispering it under my breath. “Don’t you think I’m trying?” My eyes grew wide as I blinked up at him, not sure if I had imagined what he had even said. He had not moved as he continued staring out among the moving statues. “Can you hear me?” I asked. He said nothing in return. [[Gabriel, please hear me]] [[No. Asshole. I know you can hear me]] Stepping forward, I tried to get a closer look at his eyes. If there was only some way I could let him know that this was not forever. That when I came back, we would deal with whatever was happening to him. Looking down at his skin, I felt a roll of nausea overtake me at the mottled scars that crisscrossed his bare hands. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> Is this what the madness did?<</if>> Tipping my gaze towards his own, I stared into the fathomless gray that was his eyes. They seemed just as dull as his skin. I used to think a star field lurked within the blacks of those orbs but now I saw nothing. The skin there was rimmed red, however, the dark smudges more prominent this close. Gabriel looked as if he hadn’t slept or ate since the night of the ball. “You have to get better,” I told him, whispering it under my breath. “Don’t you think I’m trying?” My eyes grew wide as I blinked up at him, not sure if I had imagined what he had even said. He had not moved as he continued staring out among the moving statues. “Can you hear me?” I asked. He said nothing in return. [[Gabriel, please hear me]] [[No. Asshole. I know you can hear me]] I didn’t know how much longer I could sit and stare at Gabriel. He looked as if he was withering away before my very eyes. Instead, I walked out the double set of gold lined doors and followed Elias. The château was strangely empty. The marbled floors were still polished, the sun falling through the arched windows to warm the cool interior. I saw Elias slip into a room, the door staying cracked behind him. My feet didn’t make a sound as I walked across the foyer to those doors. And as I tried to slip through, I went straight through the wall. Elias stood at the painting of Reese. A different one than I had seen that night. It was much smaller and showed a much grimmer looking man. “He is in so much pain,” Elias whispered. “I don’t know what to do.” I could hear the tears in his voice and saw the way in which he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “What am I supposed to do, Reecey? He won’t listen to me.” To Elias, Reese was dead. A man that had been killed long ago, solidifying his madness. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I knew that the man still wandered, however. A Baron no less. I was unsure why that was kept from Elias when it was so clear that both men were in pain over their separation.<</if>> “I wish you were here. You always could talk sense into him,” Elias sniffed. There was a glowing tonic that was clutched in Elias’s hand. A false grace. “I can’t lose him, too.” Sighing, he looked at the picture, tears tracking down his face. Elias reached out with a ghostly white hand, and traced the image of Reese’s jaw. “I love you,” he whispered. “I hope you are at peace, my love.” I let him walk past me and back to Gabriel, staring at the small oil painting of the lost love before me. I was then snapped back into the gray wash of the Night Markets streets just as quickly as I came. [[Next|Gabriel 2]] I stared up at nothing. The fathomless expanse of sky that I knew was not real. That tipped into streets somewhere along the way. There never was any lights here. Leaning against the wall, I thought about Gabriel. How he could see me. The way he looked right through me. The madness was starting. It was less of something I could see and instead a fact that I could measure by the bleakness in his eyes. Even if I was able to get back, there still may have been no saving him. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> The thought of which broke me. He had been so afraid of losing me that night. Terrified that he wouldn’t be able to protect me. And despite what I assured him of, I was here. And he was being haunted by a ghost of me.<</if>> I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Efforts renewed, I tried to stop closer to him. “Gabriel, please hear me,” I all but begged. If I could just get through to him, I knew I would be able to find a way out. That somehow we would be able to make this right. That I could //help// him. “I’m right here. I am right here, Gabriel. Just turn and look at me. Please, just //look// at me.” He blinked, lashes fluttering against his cheek. “I can’t.” My eyes went wide as I shoved in front of him, trying to force myself into his field of view. “Yes you can,” I said desperately. “No,” he said, shoving away. “It hurts too much.” “No, Gabriel. No. You need to talk to me. I need your help here. I–” “Here we are,” Elias sang, coming back into the room. A glowing tonic was in his hand. “Take this and then lie down.” Gabriel’s back straightened and I knew he had blocked himself off from me once again. “I have work to do,” he said, grabbing the tonic. He uncorked it with a flick of his thumb and downed it in one go. His entire body glowed silver for a brief moment before settling. The cracks in his skin looked as if they were slowly knitting back together. “I’ll have another one for you in two days time,” Elias said. “Do not miss the dosage.” Gabriel tossed the empty bottle to the chair nearby and began walking out without another world. “Gabriel,” it was both me and Elias who said his name. Causing him to stop in his tracks. “Be careful,” Elias said. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “I miss you,” I whispered.<</if>> His head bowed but he didn’t respond. And I was flung out of the château just as quickly as I came. [[Next|Gabriel 2]]“No, you asshole,” I said, not wanting to let him get away with this. “I know you can hear me. I know you probably think you’re crazy or you’re doing some self flagellation shit but you are not about to ignore me.” I shoved in front of him, trying to make it so he had to see me. So he wasn’t allowed to turn away. I could see the way his jaw clenched tightly, and his lifeless eyes sparked with familiarity. “That’s right. I’m right here,” I said, arms open wide, practically shouting at him. “Talk to me!” His eyes snapped to my own, his hulking form looming forward and pressing me back against the bay window. “And what would that solve, hm?” he snarled. “Should I give in to such madness for your own enjoyment?” His eyes skirted up and down my front. “I will not dance to your tune, demon.” “Here we are,” Elias sang, coming back into the room. A glowing tonic was in his hand. “Take this and then lie down.” Gabriel’s back straightened and I knew he had blocked himself off from me once again. “I have work to do,” he said, grabbing the tonic. He uncorked it with a flick of his thumb and downed it in one go. His entire body glowed silver for a brief moment before settling. The cracks in his skin looked as if they were slowly knitting back together. “I’ll have another one for you in two days time,” Elias said. “Do not miss the dosage.” Gabriel tossed the empty bottle to the chair nearby and began walking out without another world. “Gabriel,” it was both me and Elias who said his name. Causing him to stop in his tracks. “Be careful,” Elias said. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “I miss you,” I whispered.<</if>> His head bowed but he didn’t respond. And I was flung out of the château just as quickly as I came. [[Next|Gabriel 2]] I stared up at nothing. The fathomless expanse of sky that I knew was not real. That tipped into streets somewhere along the way. There never was any lights here. The sound of the ocean still roared in my ears. Mingling with the sounds of the man's neck snapping. My stomach rolled. The man who proclaimed to protect everything was going to be unable to even protect himself if he continued down this road. The madness was starting. It was less of something I could see and instead a fact that I could measure by the bleakness in his eyes. Even if I was able to get back, there still may have been no saving him. The thought of which broke me. He had been so afraid of losing me that night. Terrified that he wouldn’t be able to protect me. And despite what I assured him of, I was here. And he was being haunted by a ghost of me. To be driven to the sheer points that he had was a testament of what he was becoming. And I knew more than anything, he would not be able to look himself in the mirror if he continued this path. I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] The bakery was brightly lit. Across the street from the dark recess of the gem cave, the bottom story was made of complete glass. Black and white checkered tile lined the inside along with metal framed chairs and tables. A large confectionary case made up the counter, wrapping around the entire back wall and mid-section of the shop. It was stuffed full of sweets and tarts, fresh bread and steaming mugs of soup. Stepping inside, I was immediately assaulted with some of the best smells. Ones that I was completely unfamiliar with. Given the clientele that sat around the tables, I was assuming that this shop specialized in exotic foods. Every walk of life from the smallest pixies sitting in a flower petal cup, to a giant whose head was peeking in through a wooden window that lead somewhere far beyond where I was sure his body fit. None of them saw me though. Despite the bell chiming on the door, no one turned around, the chatter in the shop far too loud. “Divine,” a young woman was saying. Her eyes were slit like a goats and curling horns protruding from her collar bone. “Her marrow is far superior to anywhere else in the market. I do not know how she even does it.” The woman’s companion sat across from her, a small dripping sprite with hair made of pond scum. “She is not from here, I hear. Just popped right in before the gates all closed. Don’t understand how she gets any of her ingredients.” A bang sounded from the back and a head of brown highlighted gold kinky hair, peered out. “Nothing the matter back here!” “Don’t you worry, Kimber,” the sprite called out. “We’re patient.” Kimber winked at her. “For that you’ll be getting an extra bit of bone in your soup.” When she disappeared back around the corner, the little sprite smacked their lips. [[Follow the baker]] [[Listen to the conversation around the bakery]] <<set $bakery to "true">> The cave was the most out of place looking area of the alley. It was carved out of the stone walls, jagged cavern walls soaked in algae emerging from the flagstone. Gems dripped down the entrance, connected together with shimmering spun gold thread. Pushing it aside, I peeked into the mouth of the cave, hearing water drip from somewhere deep within. “Hello?” No one answered me back. It didn’t deter me however as I continued to walk inside. Blue flames burned brightly from brass basins along the edge of the room. Near the back, I could see a pile of gems. All of various sizes and shapes, some far bigger than me. It was blocked off by a large pool of still water in the center of the room. In front of the water was a glass display case with beautifully handcrafted jewelry. The water rippled as a snout appeared from the depths, the water sluicing off the scales as the creature became more humanoid. Blue hair hung down his back as he emerged from the pool, nothing but a thin wrap around his waist. Smoke curled from his nose, however, steaming up the main entrance of the room. “Can you see me?” I asked. My voice fell on deaf ears. The man? Creature? Dragon? He didn’t even flinch. Just simply walked over to a small table and began polishing a stone. His nails elongated into claws as he looped together small hooks, setting an emerald into a dragon claw silver setting. The cave itself seemed to be some sort of jewelry shop. The items on display ones that I knew would even take Belladonna’s breath away. “You can’t see me at all?” I asked, trying again. At least I knew that this invisibility thing seemed to extend to every creature. If I was ever able to connect with my higher form I was going to campaign that we were just visible when we wanted to be. With a sigh, I headed back outside into the night air, leaving the jeweler to his gems. <<if $bakery == "false">>[[Investigate the bakery]]<</if>> <<if $artalley == "false">>[[Investigate opening of the alley]]<</if>> [[Investigate the clock shop]] <<set $cave to "true">> The clock shop across the way looked dingy and unoccupied, but the open sign was flipped towards a sputtering green near the front door. Curiously, I walked across the narrow alley, noticing the cobblestones here seemed cleaner. Like they were new somehow. Pushing open the door, a bell rang, signalling my presence. A golden haired man looked up from the counter, narrowing his brown eyes towards the door and looking right through me. His tanned fingers were fiddling with small and delicate tools, an open faced clock lying on the counter in front of him. “And you say this is the best that you have?” A man asked. He was short and had vibrant red eyes that shone out from green cast skin. “Everything I have is the best that I have,” he muttered to the man. “What was that? Speak up boy. My ears are small.” The man behind the counter set down his tools and gave the customer a withering look. The oddity of his door opening and closing already lost on him. “Look, I don’t think this is the place for you.” The man stumbled back as if he had been hit. “You are a clock shop, are you not? Don’t you sell clocks?” “No.” The walls were completely made up of floor to ceiling shelves, shoved full of different clocks and parts. The timepieces sat in golden piles in each corner. And even the ground crunched, littered with broken cogs. The man with the red eyes looked just as confused as I felt. Glancing at the large sign behind the counter that said clocks for sale. Inquire about repairs. “Then what do you sell here if you don’t sell clocks?” the man bristled. The wild and tangled beach waves hid the proprietors disgust very poorly as he started fidgeting on his stool, taking the clock that was in his hand and pulling it back for protection. Not that he was in danger, but I got the distinct feeling that he thought the clock was. Like the man before him was going to steal it or something. I ventured further into the shop, stepping over piles of broken wires and rusted cogs. Large grandfather clocks stood on dust mats in the corner and the smell of oil I had caught earlier was stronger. I spied a few open jars near a work bench that was placed beneath a spotlight. A large magnifying glass stood off to the side, distorting the broken gear beneath. “I do sell clocks but I’m not selling today.” The clockmaker said, fingers tapping insistently on the counter now as he angrily stared at the man before him. As if they were the one in the wrong. “Then perhaps you should take your open sign down.” The customer suggested, still perplexed. “Just because someone has an open sign doesn’t mean they are fucking open.” Behind me, the door opened again, but this time, a familiar face ducked through. Herald, the son of the graveyard keeper, came ambling inside, ducking his head underneath the door frame, his boots clomping a few feet in. He took one look at the man behind the counter and the one in front, and sighed. “There a problem here?” “Yeah,” the clockmaker cried. “He’s trying to buy one of my clocks!” “So you admit to it,” the customer accused. “You do sell clocks.” “Not to //you//!” I could hear the sigh that permeated the room as Herald began walking forward, carefully edging himself around tables piled high with what looked like junk and the net that was strung from the buildings ceiling where pocket watched dangled like streamers. “$name,” he directly to me, tipping his head. So he could see me still. “Could you give us a moment?” Herald asked the customer. The man looked irritated finally and far less confused, but stepped to the other side of the room. [[Follow the customer]] [[Listen to Herald and the clocksmith]] While Herald talked to the clock smith, I went off to follow the customer. He stood at the front of the store, a frown on his lips, looking around with a petulant twist to his face. He began touching the clocks around him, running his fingers over the tines and faces of the ones hanging in the window. I knew with certainty that if the clock smith saw this, it would be another argument on their hands. And the customer seemed to be doing it because he simply was not getting his way. But then, I noticed something. He was watching Herald and Turner. Keeping an eye out for a particular moment. When the two men at the counter tipped their heads closer together, he snatched up a clock, pocketing it in the inner lining of his jacket. Sweat beaded on his brow and he fidgeted nervously. I couldn’t quite decide if he was just an asshole, stealing something because he didn’t get his way. Or, if he needed the clock for a grave. When Herald came over, he was smiling softly at the man. “Alright, sir. I’m sorry for the bit of the mix up there. Turner just gets real protective over his clocks.” “Yes, well–” the man bristled. “I just wish to purchase one.” “And I’m here to help you with that. What is it you’ll be needing?” [[Tell Herald he stole a clock]] [[Keep the mans secret]] [[Stay out of it]] I stayed where I was. Herald hadn’t seemed to concerned about my presence and I figured if he was actually wanting me to walk away, he would probably say something. Plus, I wanted to see if the clocksmith could see me. So far, it looked as if he could not. I was curious though about what was going on. Given the amount of clocks that were at the graveyard, I wondered if this is where they came from. “What’s going on, Turner?” Heralds voice rumbled. “I don’t want him buying one of my clocks,” the man, Turner, said in obvious distress. “But he won’t fucking leave.” “You got to sell these clocks sometime,” Herald reasoned. “Not to people that aren’t going to take care of them,” Turner protested. “Herald, he’s an idiot. It’ll break in a week!” “Calm,” Herald rumbled, stepping much closer to the man. He placed his hands on the slighter man’s shoulders, squeezing. I watched as Turner deflated a little, leaning into the touch. “We talked about this. You can’t have a clock shop and not sell your clocks.” “You can’t,” the man muttered. “If you really want, I’ll send him away,” Herald said, no sign of disappointment in his voice. “We can try again with the next customer. This kind of thing is just goin’ to take some time. Baby steps, remember?” It seemed to put Turner a bit more at ease. “No. It’s fine. Just.. I don’t want to look at him. Could you just give him whatever it is he wants? Not the astrolabium though. He can’t have those.” “Alright,” Herald nodded. He leaned down, kissing the man softly before pulling out a small packet of gears and cogs and handing it to him. Eagerly, Turner tore into them. Herald walked past me, eyeing me and giving me a small nod as he went up to the customer. It left me with Turner. The man was fidgeting with the little gears that Herald had slipped him, eyes focusing in on whatever puzzle he saw. I could see the way he kept eyeing the customer across the way though. Frowning at whatever it was that Herald was saying. Something about it was irritating him. Enough so that he dropped one of the cogs. On instinct, I bent forward and picked it up, placing it back up on the counter. Turner’s nose wrinkled. “The fuck?” “Alright, Turner. This man would like to buy a timepiece with some sort of double hand thing to it,” Herald called across the way. “Double hand thing?” Turner asked. “What the fuck is that even, Herald?” “I don’t know clocks like you.” “Yeah. That’s clear. Fuck.” Slipping off the stool he made his way across the room. “You brought in a ghost friend or something. Go deal with that and leave the clocks to a professional.” “Of course.” Herald was smiling when he turned his back from Turner and the customer. The two of them now arguing over what exactly a double hand thing was. Approaching me, he tipped his head again. “Good to see you out and about.” [[Why is it you can still see me?]] [[I picked up a gear]] [[The clock smith a friend of yours?]] “Why is it you can still see me?” I asked. This was also one of the few places where color felt more saturated. Where I felt like I was living life not as a memory but as a participant just trying to shout over the crowd. “I can see the dead without any problems,” Herald said with a shrug. “But I’m thinkin’ there is something more with you since you’re not really dead. Maybe you’re just enough dead though that no one can see you as a spirit but me. And Victor.” “I’m dying,” I told him. At least, I thought I still was. Despite the ritual that was supposed to cure me, I didn’t feel any different. Just all the more aware of the lives that I needed to save. “That’s probably it then,” Herald said with a nod. “Glad to see you are alright. When you disappeared from the chapel we thought you might be showing back up at your grave. Do you know what happened?” “No. I did my normal wandering through the alleyways and then appeared in a house later. It feels like mine. Or mine adjacent, if that makes sense.” “It here in the alley?” I nodded, the sounds of Turner and the customer haggling at the other end of the shop rising and falling with both anger and understanding. “Well, I think you are kind of known for making space for the ones who need it. Maybe you’re just giving yourself a little bit of grace and making a place of your own.” I startled a bit. I hadn’t thought of it that way yet. But it made sense. The sudden appearance of a small hole in the wall in the middle of an alley. “Are we near the graveyard?” “Pretty near,” Herald confirmed. “But no one can see me still.” “Give it time. You tend to work in mysterious ways.” The sound of a cash register dinged, and the customer walked out, looking a bit more disgruntled than when he had come. “Fucker,” Turner was muttering. “All good?” Herald asked. “Yeah. I overcharged him. And I don’t want to hear it, Herald. He deserved it.” “Turner takes his clocks very seriously,” Herald told me. “Who the fuck are you talking to? I told you no bringing the dead into my shop. It’s fucking weird.” Herald gave me a soft smile. “Maybe you should go explore the alley a bit more,” He suggested. “If this is going to be your new home.” At that, Turner looked up. “Wait. What?” I smiled back at Herald. “Yeah. I’ll go take a look around.” “What do you mean someone is moving in? It better not be that fucking dragon bringing more people here. I’m not fucking dealing with this, Herald.” Before I could hear what Herald’s response was, I slipped out the door. [[Next|Artisian alley 2]]“I picked up a gear,” I said in way of explanation. “So you can manipulate your surroundings? Can you do it with anything?” “I don’t think so. I’ve tried using some of my Night Market abilities for a few things. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.” Herald hummed. “Don’t know much about magic but it might be worth mentioning to Victor. He’ll be able to help you out with that more.” "Thanks," I said, still feeling a little off kilter with someone addressing me as me. “Glad to see you are alright. When you disappeared from the chapel we thought you might be showing back up at your grave. Do you know what happened?” “No. I did my normal wandering through the alleyways and then appeared in a house later. It feels like mine. Or mine adjacent, if that makes sense.” “It here in the alley?” I nodded, the sounds of Turner and the customer haggling at the other end of the shop rising and falling with both anger and understanding. “Well, I think you are kind of known for making space for the ones who need it. Maybe you’re just giving yourself a little bit of grace and making a place of your own.” I startled a bit. I hadn’t thought of it that way yet. But it made sense. The sudden appearance of a small hole in the wall in the middle of an alley. “Are we near the graveyard?” “Pretty near,” Herald confirmed. “But no one can see me still.” “Give it time. You tend to work in mysterious ways.” The sound of a cash register dinged, and the customer walked out, looking a bit more disgruntled than when he had come. “Fucker,” Turner was muttering. “All good?” Herald asked. “Yeah. I overcharged him. And I don’t want to hear it, Herald. He deserved it.” “Turner takes his clocks very seriously,” Herald told me. “Who the fuck are you talking to? I told you no bringing the dead into my shop. It’s fucking weird.” Herald gave me a soft smile. “Maybe you should go explore the alley a bit more,” He suggested. “If this is going to be your new home.” At that, Turner looked up. “Wait. What?” I smiled back at Herald. “Yeah. I’ll go take a look around.” “What do you mean someone is moving in? It better not be that fucking dragon bringing more people here. I’m not fucking dealing with this, Herald.” Before I could hear what Herald’s response was, I slipped out the door. [[Next|Artisian alley 2]]“Friend of yours?” I asked with a raised brow, fully knowing that that man was far more than a 'friend'. “The boyfriend,” Herald answered. He was looking at the man fondly. Like the lights outside burned just for him. “Like fuck you are buying that one. I’ll tell you the clock you’re going to buy,” Turner was arguing. “He’s… charming,” I told Herald. “Like a porcupine,” Herald laughed. “Glad to see you are alright. When you disappeared from the chapel we thought you might be showing back up at your grave. Do you know what happened?” “No. I did my normal wandering through the alleyways and then appeared in a house later. It feels like mine. Or mine adjacent, if that makes sense.” “It here in the alley?” I nodded, the sounds of Turner and the customer haggling at the other end of the shop rising and falling with both anger and understanding. “Well, I think you are kind of known for making space for the ones who need it. Maybe you’re just giving yourself a little bit of grace and making a place of your own.” I startled a bit. I hadn’t thought of it that way yet. But it made sense. The sudden appearance of a small hole in the wall in the middle of an alley. “Are we near the graveyard?” “Pretty near,” Herald confirmed. “But no one can see me still.” “Give it time. You tend to work in mysterious ways.” The sound of a cash register dinged, and the customer walked out, looking a bit more disgruntled than when he had come. “Fucker,” Turner was muttering. “All good?” Herald asked. “Yeah. I overcharged him. And I don’t want to hear it, Herald. He deserved it.” “Turner takes his clocks very seriously,” Herald told me. “Who the fuck are you talking to? I told you no bringing the dead into my shop. It’s fucking weird.” Herald gave me a soft smile. “Maybe you should go explore the alley a bit more,” He suggested. “If this is going to be your new home.” At that, Turner looked up. “Wait. What?” I smiled back at Herald. “Yeah. I’ll go take a look around.” “What do you mean someone is moving in? It better not be that fucking dragon bringing more people here. I’m not fucking dealing with this, Herald.” Before I could hear what Herald’s response was, I slipped out the door. [[Next|Artisian alley 2]] The last time I had smelled peaches so strongly, I had been beneath the peach tree with Tallard. The old blind man who later became Taliesin. The one who was currently rooting around my inside. If it smelled like peaches now, I doubted it was going to be anything good. My feet hit the ground at a rapid fire pace as I began running back to the house I had appeared in. I had the sudden urge to wrap myself up in my $blanket. To hide from the world as if I were some small child. The ground and the walls began rumbling, and the scratching began to get louder and louder. I could feel it as if nails were running down my skin. Tracing each knob of my spine. Next to me the clock shop opened, both Herald and Turner stepping out. “$name? Everything alright?” My eyes traveled along the walls. I could see the cracks before they formed, feeling them shred across my own skin. “Is that blood?” Turner asked. For a brief moment, I thought he saw me. But then I realized, it was beneath me in a pool, I barely had time to gasp the words “run” before the walls around us exploded inwards. Bits of crumbling stone scattered along the ground as the creatures began screaming out from the tunnels within, flooding Artisan Alley with their screams. Heart pounding and head full of the cries of the innocent, I fell to my knees. Instinctively, I reached my hand out to catch myself. The ground below began to open into a small tunnel, a wave of cobblestone rising to knock the goblins off balance. They scattered around, tumbling over each other. I felt the rip against my back. “Everyone inside!” I yelled. Wrapping my arm around one of the lights. I could feel the green fire burning my skin. When I saw the last person step inside I let the ground fall away. The goblins fell with it. They went screaming into the ruins below. The place where it was said the Night Market had started. The place I was born. They tumbled down, down, down, until I couldn’t see them anymore. With a sigh, I willed the street to form beneath my feet again, stepping down onto stone. [[Next|Artisan Alley 3]] Herald could see me. He was the only one who could. I had to get to him and warn him. There were people in this alley and whatever was about to happen was not going to be good. The last time I had smelled peaches so strongly, I had been beneath the peach tree with Tallard. The old blind man who later became Taliesin. The one who was currently rooting around my inside. If it smelled like peaches now, I doubted it was going to be anything good. “Herald,” I began yelling as I raced towards the clock shop. “Herald!” The door flung open as the big man ducked outside. “What’s going on?” he asked, eyes already scanning the alley. Turner was close behind him. “I don’t know,” I gasped, hands on knees. “But–” I cried out in pain as a scratch ran down my back, tracing the knobs of my spine. With each push against the wall, I could feel it upon my skin. “They’re coming,” I managed to utter. Right before the alley around us exploded into chaos. I barely had time to gasp the words “run” before the walls around us exploded inwards. Bits of crumbling stone scattered along the ground as the creatures began screaming out from the tunnels within, flooding Artisan Alley with their screams. Heart pounding and head full of the cries of the innocent, I fell to my knees. Instinctively, I reached my hand out to catch myself. The ground below began to open into a small tunnel, a wave of cobblestone rising to knock the goblins off balance. They scattered around, tumbling over each other. I felt the rip against my back. “Everyone inside!” I yelled. Wrapping my arm around one of the lights. I could feel the green fire burning my skin. When I saw the last person step inside I let the ground fall away. The goblins fell with it. They went screaming into the ruins below. The place where it was said the Night Market had started. The place I was born. They tumbled down, down, down, until I couldn’t see them anymore. With a sigh, I willed the street to form beneath my feet again, stepping down onto stone. [[Next|Artisan Alley 3]] Walking down the alley, I tried to pinpoint where the scratching was coming from. It felt as if it echoed all around me and I could feel the itch on the back of my neck. It stung, claws ghosting down my spine. My heart began to beat more fully as I realized that the sounds I was hearing was directly happening to me. I slapped the back of my neck, hopeful that it was nothing more than a fluke. But the scratching just got louder and louder until I could hear it. Right by the window of the strange little home I had crawled from. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the wall other than the bricks seemed to still be settling. As if my own home was not supposed to be there and the market was still adjusting. Reaching out, I pressed my fingers to it, hissing at the electric bolt that cracked through me. One by one I watched as the bricks began to move away. They rearranged themselves in the dim light, opening a dark hole into another alley. One I had never seen before, that led into a dark tunnel. Hisses and grunts echoed through the chambers as I peered into the darkness. Glowing eyes bounced around the tunnel as they scrambled across the floor. And in the dim of it all, I could see the light of two lanterns. Reaching out, I took the light that hung by my window, feeling the cold heat as I twisted the sconce so it could illuminate whatever was on the other side of the wall. The tunnel was made out of goblins. Small, grey little creatures, scurrying across the walls, clicking at each other and crawling over their brethren’s bodies. Blood dripped down into a sewage river below where some of them fell to be trampled by bigger fighters down here. “You thought you could hide,” one of them sneered. “Funny that you thought you’d get away from us.” I heard the telling sound of someone spitting, the blood river sloshing as they got to their feet. “Get away from you? That would mean I’d have to even be concerned with you. Please, you are the least of my worries.” My breath stuttered in my chest. I knew that voice. Milo stood up to his knees in the sludge, hair slicked back, hand gripping his side. His head was cocked to the right a feral sort of look haunting his face as he stared down the horde of goblins swarming around him. His eyes were two lanterns, glowing in the dark, the amber they had once been so much brighter now. “You good?” he asked the goblin. “Think you can go again?” “Where is he, Next,” the big creature growled. “Hopefully in hell. I hear it's nice this time a year. Though, guess that does nothing with your daddy abandonment issues, yeah? What’s wrong? Hynsin gone and suddenly you feel like you were unloved as a child? Or were you just really hoping you could show him what a good boy you could be. Become his number one gobo.” The goblin laughed. “Last chance, Next. Where is he?” “Can’t remember,” Milo said, straightening. With one hand extended out, he beckoned the goblin forward. The creature didn’t wait as it launched itself at Milo, along with several others, I watched a blade slip from the leather around Milo’s wrists as he began slashing them back, driven into the bleak night. [[Try to follow him through]] [[Close the wall before the goblins can get through]] I tried to follow him. This was Milo. I wasn’t about to let him get away. With each retreating step I heard, my heart synched with the beat of it. Around me, the world felt as if it were reaching out. Trying to call me home. “No,” I gritted. Milo was going to fix this. I was going to fix this. The people that were in this alley, eating their baked goods, selling their clocks, and chasing after children, were not going to be harmed. At the sound of my voice, however, all eyes turned to me. Drooping gazes and glass toothed leers were suddenly directed my way. It didn’t matter if I was going to try to follow. Because they burst through the hole that was created with a wild scream. Next to me the clock shop opened, both Herald and Turner stepping out. “$name? Everything alright?” My eyes traveled along the walls. I could see the cracks before they formed, feeling them shred across my own skin. “Is that blood?” Turner asked. For a brief moment, I thought he saw me. But then I realized, it was beneath me in a pool, I barely had time to gasp the words “run” before the walls around us exploded inwards. Bits of crumbling stone scattered along the ground as the creatures began screaming out from the tunnels within, flooding Artisan Alley with their screams. Heart pounding and head full of the cries of the innocent, I fell to my knees. Instinctively, I reached my hand out to catch myself. The ground below began to open into a small tunnel, a wave of cobblestone rising to knock the goblins off balance. They scattered around, tumbling over each other. I felt the rip against my back. “Everyone inside!” I yelled. Wrapping my arm around one of the lights. I could feel the green fire burning my skin. When I saw the last person step inside I let the ground fall away. The goblins fell with it. They went screaming into the ruins below. The place where it was said the Night Market had started. The place I was born. They tumbled down, down, down, until I couldn’t see them anymore. With a sigh, I willed the street to form beneath my feet again, stepping down onto stone. [[Next|Artisan Alley 3]] I had no idea how I had opened the wall to begin with but I found myself pressing my hands to either side of the hole to try and close it before the goblins realized there was an opening. The bricks began to slide back together, clattering as the fight between Milo and the bigger guys began to fade. But it was the little ones who were now watching me, jagged teeth leering at me from the dark. I didn’t know if they saw me or simply saw an opportunity. Either way, I willed the bricks to close faster, trying to physically squeeze them together. A hand popped through, one of the sneering faces of the goblins screaming as it ripped through the brick, trying to push its way forward. The stone snapped shut, cutting the body in two. I watched as the goblins eyes grew dull, and a final gasp escaped them, their body falling to the ground. Stumbling back, I breathed deeply, staring at the bisected creature. But behind me, the walls began to rumble again. The sound of scratching becoming louder and louder. The pale man from earlier opened the window up top, yelling down into the street. “Malachi! You tunneling again?” Next to me the clock shop opened, both Herald and Turner stepping out. “$name? Everything alright?” My eyes traveled along the walls. I could see the cracks before they formed, feeling them shred across my own skin. “Is that blood?” Turner asked. For a brief moment, I thought he saw me. But then I realized, it was beneath me in a pool, I barely had time to gasp the words “run” before the walls around us exploded inwards. Bits of crumbling stone scattered along the ground as the creatures began screaming out from the tunnels within, flooding Artisan Alley with their screams. Heart pounding and head full of the cries of the innocent, I fell to my knees. Instinctively, I reached my hand out to catch myself. The ground below began to open into a small tunnel, a wave of cobblestone rising to knock the goblins off balance. They scattered around, tumbling over each other. I felt the rip against my back. “Everyone inside!” I yelled. Wrapping my arm around one of the lights. I could feel the green fire burning my skin. When I saw the last person step inside I let the ground fall away. The goblins fell with it. They went screaming into the ruins below. The place where it was said the Night Market had started. The place I was born. They tumbled down, down, down, until I couldn’t see them anymore. With a sigh, I willed the street to form beneath my feet again, stepping down onto stone. [[Next|Artisan Alley 3]] One by one, the doors lining the alley all opened. Herald and Turner stepped out of the clock shop. The baker, from her delicatessen. And the dragon from inside his cave. A little boy was in the pale man’s arms up above on the balcony and I could see within the bakery, a series of individuals with their faces pressed up to the glass. I hung my head, feeling sweat pour down my skin. “$name?” “Yes, Herald?” There was a pause. Herald stepped toward me, his large combat boots coming into view. “I didn’t say anything.” I frowned in confusion. I could have sworn that he had been the one to call out to me. He was the only one who could see me, after all. As I looked up, I was aware of two things, however. One, the person talking to me was absolutely not Herald. And two, the lanterns above were valiantly trying to come back to life. “You’re $name, right?” A man stepped forward, highlighted by the flickering orbs above. “You used to work at Hazel’s? Or at least you were there a lot?” I recognized him. He used to come in for love potions. Hazel had told me once that she couldn’t actually make love potions but she was giving the man a potion to make him continue to believe there was someone out there for him. To never lose hope. “Yes,” I told him. “I remember you.” But more importantly, he could see me. Looking around the alley now, dozens of pairs of eyes were on me. They could see me. They could all see me. “Do you know what’s going on at the apothecary?” the man asked. “You fucking kidding me?” It was Turner. His eyes were wide and he was looking at the man like he had grown another head. “Monsters just burst from the walls, the entire street caved in and then regrew, and you are wondering what happened to the apothecary?” Near the back, a woman raised her gloved hand. “I would kind of like to know too. I can’t go get my cream anymore and I have a rash on my…” “Nope,” the man called from the balcony, hoisting the squirming baby up a little higher. “I don’t know if you should finish that, beautiful.” “Wait,” I said. “Is Hazel okay?” “We don’t know,” the man started. “Last time I was there I didn’t even see her. I was going to ask her if she sold the shop or not.” Hazel without the apothecary? It didn’t seem right. She loved that place. It was the tie to her family. Every beam, every floorboard, it had all been placed by hand by her, Milo and Malcolm. The upstairs was a shrine to everything good in her life. “Alright, all of you, time to go,” Turner started saying. “There are way too many people in this alley and I’m kind of done with it.” The little baker woman looked at him with a sigh. “Turner,” she admonished. “They have been through an ordeal.” “Yeah, not getting their fucking creams have really put a damper on their fucking day. I can fucking see that. Meanwhile, this person just appeared in front of us and… oh shit, you look super fucked up.” I looked down at myself. My skin was split open in various places. Like a creature had clawed at it before barreling through. But ever so slowly, I was knitting back together. I placed my hand over a raw wound on my forearm, feeling the heat form from my palm. Around me, the walls began to clatter back into place, the destruction that the goblins had created righting itself. And in return, my skin became whole again, without even a trace of a scar. "You and Iblis alright up there Sawyer?" Kimber called out to the man and baby on the balcony nearby. "We are right as rain and just enjoying the show!" The pale man took the baby's hand and began waving it at all the people down below. “Well, that’s not human,” the dragon said from near his cave, his eyes trailed on me. “What was your first fucking hint?” Turner spat. “Turner, baby,” Sawyer called down. “Calm your tits, okay? People can make observations.” [[Why can everyone suddenly see me?]] [[Have the goblins been attacking often?]] [[Have the lanterns gone on anywhere else in the market?]] “Alright, everyone,” Kimber began clapping her hands. “Artisan Alley is closed for the rest of the afternoon. Please grab a cookie on the way out and tell your friends we are looking for tenants. Please and thank you.” The woman began ushering the lurkers away from her shop and through the wooden archway, back into the dark of the market. Next to her, the dragon man shrugged, walking back inside his cave without another look at anyone. I could have sworn I saw a long tail flick around the corner as he disappeared. “Why can everyone suddenly see me?” I asked, turning to Herald, my only source of real communication for the last day. “That is a good question,” Herald started, looking around at the eyes that were trained on me. “Maybe you accepted that you’re back? Or maybe you manipulated the world around you enough?” “It was impressive to see,” Sawyer yelled out, still up on the rickety balcony. “But I’ve been trying to do that for a while,” I told him. This was not the first time I had tried to do anything to the market. It wasn’t even the first time I had succeeded. So why now? Herald shrugged. “I don’t know enough about magic to answer that. But, I do know that you’re here. And that’s got to be a win, right?” The man Turner was staring between Herald and I. When no one continued to talk, he bobbed his head, clearly trying to come to terms with whatever he just saw. “Okay. Is there a clock here that needs fixed?” I looked at him. “No?” “Right. Going back inside then.” Popping up on his toes, he kissed Herald. “If the goblins messed up any of my stuff I’m going to go feral, Herald.” “I know,” the bigger man assured him, brushing a stitched hand across his cheek. He watched Turner until he was safely inside the clock shop. “Um, Harry babe?” The man from the balcony called. “Think I could let Iblis play at the graveyard? He’s got a lot of energy and I don’t think I really want him frolicking around here with the weird things that just happened.” “Yeah,” Herald said. “Marie has left a basket of toys out for him.” “Perfect, oh, and Night Market?” he called down to me. “You look snatched for coming back from the dead. Proud of you, honey!” The baby smacked him in the face a few times as they disappeared inside. “That’s Sawyer,” Herald explained. “He lives here too. Along with Kimber at the bakery. And Malachi at the gem shop.” I wanted to care. I wanted to hear these stories. Know the weird little residence that my house had popped up near. But I was here. I was real. My skin no longer had the translucent quality it once did. “Herald, I have to go,” I told him. <<if $hazelro == "true">>I had to go see Hazel. I had to find out if she was still at the apothecary but most of all, I just needed to hold her. To pull her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> I had to go find Gabriel. To prove to him once and for all what he saw at the grave was actually me and put that fear to rest. And then, I had to figure out what was going on with his madness. Save him from himself. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> I had to go see Belladonna. To find her standing up high, overlooking her kingdom. To feel that stare turn on me and just know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she loved me. <<elseif $miloro == "true">> I had to find Milo. To either save him or to confront him. Wherever he was, fighting beneath the city, he may have already been dead. Another Gatekeeper down. Another to take his place. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> There were two people I needed to see. I had to find Gabriel and Belladonna. More than anything I wanted to see them in the same room. To feel two of the most powerful people within the market come towards me and hold me.<</if>> I made my way down the alley at a short clip, bypassing several people still lingering and nearly tripping over a spot in the street that hadn’t quite gone back together right. But the second I stepped over the threshold, I was back in my room. The empty little four walled expanse of a home with a blanket and a bed and a window for a door. “No,” I breathed. “No no no.” I pressed my hands to the side of my face. Why did I keep coming back here? I didn’t get it. There was nothing significant here. “What am I supposed to see?” I asked the void. Or maybe myself. A mirror was on the opposite wall of my bed. A small little oval one that had been in my room at Hazel’s. Slowly, I walked up to it. It was me. The very me that I recognized from my time here before. With one key difference. My eyes were black. There was no light that emerged from the depths. They looked hollow. Two empty sockets that shone into a dying universe. “$name, are you alright?” Herald ducked his head through the window. [[I just want to be alive again]] [[I’m frustrated]] [[Screw Taliesin Hynsin for whatever he did]] “Alright, everyone,” Kimber began clapping her hands. “Artisan Alley is closed for the rest of the afternoon. Please grab a cookie on the way out and tell your friends we are looking for tenants. Please and thank you.” The woman began ushering the lurkers away from her shop and through the wooden archway, back into the dark of the market. Next to her, the dragon man shrugged, walking back inside his cave without another look at anyone. I could have sworn I saw a long tail flick around the corner as he disappeared. “Is that normal?” I asked. “The goblins aren’t attacking like that, are they?” “A few times,” Herald said. “No one quite knows why. But they’ve shown up like this in a few areas in the market. Guards been on the lookout for a couple that might be in the lead. And, most goblins, whether they’re involved or not, have been taken in for questioning.” Taliesin. It was the only thing I could think of. He either had to be behind it, or they were looking for him. The fact that they still thought he was here, however, was a bit more concerning. The man Turner was staring between Herald and I. When no one continued to talk, he bobbed his head, clearly trying to come to terms with whatever he just saw. “Okay. Is there a clock here that needs fixed?” I looked at him. “No?” “Right. Going back inside then.” Popping up on his toes, he kissed Herald. “If the goblins messed up any of my stuff I’m going to go feral, Herald.” “I know,” the bigger man assured him, brushing a stitched hand across his cheek. He watched Turner until he was safely inside the clock shop. “Um, Harry babe?” The man from the balcony called. “Think I could let Iblis play at the graveyard? He’s got a lot of energy and I don’t think I really want him frolicking around here with the weird things that just happened.” “Yeah,” Herald said. “Marie has left a basket of toys out for him.” “Perfect, oh, and Night Market?” he called down to me. “You look snatched for coming back from the dead. Proud of you, honey!” The baby smacked him in the face a few times as they disappeared inside. “That’s Sawyer,” Herald explained. “He lives here too. Along with Kimber at the bakery. And Malachi at the gem shop.” I wanted to care. I wanted to hear these stories. Know the weird little residence that my house had popped up near. But I was here. I was real. My skin no longer had the translucent quality it once did. “Herald, I have to go,” I told him. <<if $hazelro == "true">>I had to go see Hazel. I had to find out if she was still at the apothecary but most of all, I just needed to hold her. To pull her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> I had to go find Gabriel. To prove to him once and for all what he saw at the grave was actually me and put that fear to rest. And then, I had to figure out what was going on with his madness. Save him from himself. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> I had to go see Belladonna. To find her standing up high, overlooking her kingdom. To feel that stare turn on me and just know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she loved me. <<elseif $miloro == "true">> I had to find Milo. To either save him or to confront him. Wherever he was, fighting beneath the city, he may have already been dead. Another Gatekeeper down. Another to take his place. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> There were two people I needed to see. I had to find Gabriel and Belladonna. More than anything I wanted to see them in the same room. To feel two of the most powerful people within the market come towards me and hold me.<</if>> I made my way down the alley at a short clip, bypassing several people still lingering and nearly tripping over a spot in the street that hadn’t quite gone back together right. But the second I stepped over the threshold, I was back in my room. The empty little four walled expanse of a home with a blanket and a bed and a window for a door. “No,” I breathed. “No no no.” I pressed my hands to the side of my face. Why did I keep coming back here? I didn’t get it. There was nothing significant here. “What am I supposed to see?” I asked the void. Or maybe myself. A mirror was on the opposite wall of my bed. A small little oval one that had been in my room at Hazel’s. Slowly, I walked up to it. It was me. The very me that I recognized from my time here before. With one key difference. My eyes were black. There was no light that emerged from the depths. They looked hollow. Two empty sockets that shone into a dying universe. “$name, are you alright?” Herald ducked his head through the window. [[I just want to be alive again]] [[I’m frustrated]] [[Screw Taliesin Hynsin for whatever he did]] “Alright, everyone,” Kimber began clapping her hands. “Artisan Alley is closed for the rest of the afternoon. Please grab a cookie on the way out and tell your friends we are looking for tenants. Please and thank you.” The woman began ushering the lurkers away from her shop and through the wooden archway, back into the dark of the market. Next to her, the dragon man shrugged, walking back inside his cave without another look at anyone. I could have sworn I saw a long tail flick around the corner as he disappeared. “Have the lanterns relit anywhere else in the market?” I asked, turning towards Herald. From everything I had seen, from the whispers that managed to get through to me from the pleas uttered at night, the market was dark. It had been since the night of the ball. “Not that I know of,” Herald said. “And I have to go to a lot of places.” Turner was looking up at the lanterns with narrowed eyes. “They’re not entirely on yet,” he was saying. “More of trying? What does that even mean?” “Might mean that $name here is going to wake up soon,” Herald suggested. When Turner looked at me, clearly not knowing who I was, I sighed a bit. “I’m the Night Market,” I told him. “Or part of it.” The man stared at me. My first test to see how others might react if I told them who I actually was. He ended up shrugging though. “Okay. Is there a clock here that needs fixed?” I looked at him. “No?” “Right. Going back inside then.” Popping up on his toes, he kissed Herald. “If the goblins messed up any of my stuff I’m going to go feral, Herald.” “I know,” the bigger man assured him, brushing a stitched hand across his cheek. He watched Turner until he was safely inside the clock shop. “Um, Harry babe?” The man from the balcony called. “Think I could let Iblis play at the graveyard? He’s got a lot of energy and I don’t think I really want him frolicking around here with the weird things that just happened.” “Yeah,” Herald said. “Marie has left a basket of toys out for him.” “Perfect, oh, and Night Market?” he called down to me. “You look snatched for coming back from the dead. Proud of you, honey!” The baby smacked him in the face a few times as they disappeared inside. “That’s Sawyer,” Herald explained. “He lives here too. Along with Kimber at the bakery. And Malachi at the gem shop.” I wanted to care. I wanted to hear these stories. Know the weird little residence that my house had popped up near. But I was here. I was real. My skin no longer had the translucent quality it once did. “Herald, I have to go,” I told him. <<if $hazelro == "true">>I had to go see Hazel. I had to find out if she was still at the apothecary but most of all, I just needed to hold her. To pull her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> I had to go find Gabriel. To prove to him once and for all what he saw at the grave was actually me and put that fear to rest. And then, I had to figure out what was going on with his madness. Save him from himself. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> I had to go see Belladonna. To find her standing up high, overlooking her kingdom. To feel that stare turn on me and just know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she loved me. <<elseif $miloro == "true">> I had to find Milo. To either save him or to confront him. Wherever he was, fighting beneath the city, he may have already been dead. Another Gatekeeper down. Another to take his place. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> There were two people I needed to see. I had to find Gabriel and Belladonna. More than anything I wanted to see them in the same room. To feel two of the most powerful people within the market come towards me and hold me.<</if>> I made my way down the alley at a short clip, bypassing several people still lingering and nearly tripping over a spot in the street that hadn’t quite gone back together right. But the second I stepped over the threshold, I was back in my room. The empty little four walled expanse of a home with a blanket and a bed and a window for a door. “No,” I breathed. “No no no.” I pressed my hands to the side of my face. Why did I keep coming back here? I didn’t get it. There was nothing significant here. “What am I supposed to see?” I asked the void. Or maybe myself. A mirror was on the opposite wall of my bed. A small little oval one that had been in my room at Hazel’s. Slowly, I walked up to it. It was me. The very me that I recognized from my time here before. With one key difference. My eyes were black. There was no light that emerged from the depths. They looked hollow. Two empty sockets that shone into a dying universe. “$name, are you alright?” Herald ducked his head through the window. [[I just want to be alive again]] [[I’m frustrated]] [[Screw Taliesin Hynsin for whatever he did]] “I just want to be alive again,” I said in defeat. More than anything, I just wanted to be here. To be $name again. I didn’t want to be the Night Market. I didn’t even think I wanted to be responsible for world ending solutions. All I wanted was to be back here with the ones I loved. The ones I had come here for to begin with. A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and I looked up into Herald’s stitched face. “We’re working on it. Just don’t give up hope, alright?” I nodded. It felt like an impossibility but it was all I had. For now. “So am I stuck here now?” I asked, looking down the small expanse of a street. “Looks like you’re not supposed to go anywhere else. But it ain’t so bad. You got a bakery right there.” I glanced at him. “That’s it. That’s your big sell.” “Well, no. But not everyone finds the rest of them as charming as I do. But like Ms. Kimber said. We’re looking for tenants. Maybe someone new will move in.” The alley was small. I didn’t understand where anyone else could really go. But then again, like Herald said. Stranger things had happened. “I just don’t understand how I popped through here. Why here?” “Maybe it had to do with the goblins? And your lights are flickering. So you’re trying. That’s sometimes all we can ask for.” I slumped against the wall, leaning my head back and looking up at the starless sky. Was my body even still in the grave back there? If I walked through the door in my room, would I be able to wander my mind again and come out somewhere else. “I know this is not quite how you wanted to wake up,” Herald said comfortingly. “But if there is anything I can get you, I’ll do that.” I paused. “Do you think you could get me someone instead of a something?” “I could do that. Who do you want me to get?” A slow curl of a smile appeared on my lips. There was only one person I wanted to see right now. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Milo and end]]<<elseif $miloro == "false">>[[Chapter Two]]<</if>>“I’m just frustrated,” I said tiredly. To be the Night Market but feel limited on my own powers was like running into an unmovable force over and over again. I should have been able to be back by now. I should have easily been able to fix myself. But instead, I had been wandering my own mind for months only to be given a grain of hope about coming home, to just as quickly have it snatched away. A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, patting me with a force that nearly knocked me off my feet. I turned and looked up at Herald’s face. “I get it,” he said. “But just don’t lose hope, alright? Second you do that, you’re done for.” “So am I stuck here now?” I asked, looking down the small expanse of a street. “Looks like you’re not supposed to go anywhere else. But it ain’t so bad. You got a bakery right there.” I glanced at him. “That’s it. That’s your big sell.” “Well, no. But not everyone finds the rest of them as charming as I do. But like Ms. Kimber said. We’re looking for tenants. Maybe someone new will move in.” The alley was small. I didn’t understand where anyone else could really go. But then again, like Herald said. Stranger things had happened. “I just don’t understand how I popped through here. Why here?” “Maybe it had to do with the goblins? And your lights are flickering. So you’re trying. That’s sometimes all we can ask for.” I slumped against the wall, leaning my head back and looking up at the starless sky. Was my body even still in the grave back there? If I walked through the door in my room, would I be able to wander my mind again and come out somewhere else. “I know this is not quite how you wanted to wake up,” Herald said comfortingly. “But if there is anything I can get you, I’ll do that.” I paused. “Do you think you could get me someone instead of a something?” “I could do that. Who do you want me to get?” A slow curl of a smile appeared on my lips. There was only one person I wanted to see right now. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Milo and end]]<<elseif $miloro == "false">>[[Chapter Two]]<</if>>“Fuck Taliesin Hynsin,” I muttered to myself. Somehow, he was at fault. Wandering around in my brain like this. He had to be the reason I wasn’t able to come back. The reason this was all happening the way it was now. The reason I was never able to return to my full self. “That Baron that disappeared?” Herald asked. “What does he have to do with any of this?” Sighing, I climbed back through the window and into Artisan Alley. “It’s a long story,” I told him. “I just think he might be prohibiting something within me. The goblins cracking through right where I ended up is too much of a coincidence.” “Oddities have been going on all over the Night Market,” Herald said. “For a long time. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I am saying that I think it is a culmination of a lot of different things.” “So am I stuck here now?” I asked, looking down the small expanse of a street. “Looks like you’re not supposed to go anywhere else. But it ain’t so bad. You got a bakery right there.” I glanced at him. “That’s it. That’s your big sell.” “Well, no. But not everyone finds the rest of them as charming as I do. But like Ms. Kimber said. We’re looking for tenants. Maybe someone new will move in.” The alley was small. I didn’t understand where anyone else could really go. But then again, like Herald said. Stranger things had happened. “I just don’t understand how I popped through here. Why here?” “Maybe it had to do with the goblins? And your lights are flickering. So you’re trying. That’s sometimes all we can ask for.” I slumped against the wall, leaning my head back and looking up at the starless sky. Was my body even still in the grave back there? If I walked through the door in my room, would I be able to wander my mind again and come out somewhere else. “I know this is not quite how you wanted to wake up,” Herald said comfortingly. “But if there is anything I can get you, I’ll do that.” I paused. “Do you think you could get me someone instead of a something?” “I could do that. Who do you want me to get?” A slow curl of a smile appeared on my lips. There was only one person I wanted to see right now. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Milo and end]]<<elseif $miloro == "false">>[[Chapter Two]]<</if>> Chapter Two Artisan Alley. It was tucked away in a corner of the market, bordering the Outlands and a short walk from the cemetery. I could see the glowing lights of the candles from where I stood at the entrance of the alleyway, where mourners went to visit the deceased. Then there was nothing. No lights. No indication of a sprawling city expanse. Just the distant moans of the beasts that were set loose out in the wild. In an area of the market that I had never been able to press the walls forward. I wished I could remember why. “Excuse me?” I turned. The light from the bakery felt almost odd, knowing how dark the rest of the market actually was. The floor to ceiling windows caused the creamy light to spill out on the streets where the green gas powered lanterns flickered in lieu of the dark lights above. “Oh, hi,” I said, spotting a short little woman right at the bakery’s entrance. Her nose was spotted with flour and her hair was in wild curls all around her head. “Sorry, I’m not actually used to people seeing me.” I hadn’t even thought she was talking to me at first. “I’m short, so I kind of get that,” she grinned. “Would you like to come inside? Herald is reliable and I’m sure he’ll be back from whatever errand you sent him on but it will maybe take a bit of time and while I’m sure you are someone who is no stranger to time I really am sad to see you just standing out here all on your own, looking out into the desolate night. Without a slice of pie.” I blinked at her. [[I’ll wait here. Thanks]] [[Pie?]] [[I might not be a great conversationalist]]“There has to be something you can do,” I told $himher. “Me?” “You’re death,” I protested. “Can’t you get them free? Take their souls from one place to the next?” He raised a brow at me. “There are rules to what I do, my friend. You of all people should know this. Although, I am very aware of how much you do not follow your own rules.” “Pen, they will die if they don’t get help.” “Yes,” $heshe said slowly. “They have been dying, $name. For quite some time. The first week after the lanterns went out was a blood bath. Your dear Warden didn’t sleep for some time. And there was a lot of blood on his hands afterwards.” I didn’t accept that. I couldn’t. If Pen wasn’t going to do anything, then I was going to have to try. I stared at the wall. At the woman curled against the base, whispering to her sister. I could see, the closer I looked, the chips in the wall. As if someone had taken several implements to it. And as I looked up and down the alleyway, I could see the signs of it everywhere. Loved ones and helpful citizens, banging large objects against the stone to try and crumble the walls to nothing and let someone through. The signs of them giving up were marked in the little ofrendas that were at the base of the walls. [[Try to break the walls down with your mind]] [[Try to tear the walls apart]] [[Try to climb over the wall]]“What happened?” I whispered. “When the lights went out, the walls started going haywire,” Pen said. “They began moving around. Some of them crumbling. Entire districts disappeared. Then, before the candles were lit, people became lost. Some were cut off on their way home. Others got turned around and found themselves in unfamiliar territory. And the less than savory sorts of individuals within the market took advantage of that.” “What do you mean?” I asked, heart sinking. “The monsters are on the prowl and the prey is becoming few and far between,” $heshe said ominously. “Then, the luckier ones? Well, they are trapped. Little pockets of the market.” $HeShe looked up towards the dead lanterns, swaying in a light evening breeze. “But don’t worry. Won’t be long now.” My eyes snapped to $himher. “I don’t like the way you said that.” “These souls have been trapped for months, $name. Whether they’ve living in the market or not, they are going to perish soon. I must say, since your homecoming, I have been incredibly busy.” I felt sick. Imagining the people lost within the market, the safe haven I had created for so many of them. They were dying on the other side of the walls and it was because of me. I stared at the wall. At the woman curled against the base, whispering to her sister. I could see, the closer I looked, the chips in the wall. As if someone had taken several implements to it. And as I looked up and down the alleyway, I could see the signs of it everywhere. Loved ones and helpful citizens, banging large objects against the stone to try and crumble the walls to nothing and let someone through. The signs of them giving up were marked in the little ofrendas that were at the base of the walls. [[Try to break the walls down with your mind]] [[Try to tear the walls apart]] [[Try to climb over the wall]]“Why do they not break the wall?” It was just stone. It would not have taken much effort to get something and start tearing down the brick. A sledgehammer would have done the trick enough to drag another soul through. “Do you not think they’ve tried?” Pen laughed. “I think that Warden you hung around with attempted it quite frequently. There was an entire rescue task force there in the beginning. But you won’t let them through. I am almost certain you’ve gone into survival mode.” I looked down at my own body. “Well, I– stop.” I told myself. Pen snorted in laughter. “Yes, well, that is a conversation you should certainly have with yourself. Just try to do it on your own time. Seeing you walk around talking to yourself is going to make me quite concerned. Crazy is only endearing for so long.” I rolled my eyes at $himher. “I’m serious. If this is my doing, shouldn’t the walls just crumble?” “They should,” Pen agreed. “So make them crumble.” I stared at the wall. At the woman curled against the base, whispering to her sister. I could see, the closer I looked, the chips in the wall. As if someone had taken several implements to it. And as I looked up and down the alleyway, I could see the signs of it everywhere. Loved ones and helpful citizens, banging large objects against the stone to try and crumble the walls to nothing and let someone through. The signs of them giving up were marked in the little ofrendas that were at the base of the walls. [[Try to break the walls down with your mind]] [[Try to tear the walls apart]] [[Try to climb over the wall]] Solid walls were before me. The very structure of the world. They were the boundaries between the districts. They were what kept the lurking monsters from the Outlands from entering the city proper. They were the very foundation of the world. And now they had locked people behind their stone walls and was keeping them from going home. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine them pulling apart. Each individual stone moving with small little clicks. Like I had heard countless times before while I had been wandering the market. It should have been something I could do. I should have been easy to come by. Yet nothing happened but the deep swell of a headache beginning to bloom. “There has to be something I can do.” “In this state? Probably not.” “Then why’d you let me try?” “Because I will always support your tries. Just as I will always support your fails.” $HeShe reached out, chuffing me on the chin. “I support the core of who you are and everything you do. Even if it is incredibly stupid. You know. Like following the failed ritual of a strange man to go and live in your own world but without your memories.” I stared at $himher. “Thanks,” I said dryly. “What are friends for?” $HeShe grinned. “Now. If you’ll excuse me. I have a body to take.” My eyes went wide. “You’re here to take them? “Yes, my friend. They are dying. A lot of people within the market are.” [[Pen, don’t take them]] [[Take them and put them out of their misery]] [[Try to open a void beneath Pen]] Solid walls were before me. The very structure of the world. They were the boundaries between the districts. They were what kept the lurking monsters in the Outlands from entering the city proper. These walls were the very foundation of the world. And now they served to lock people behind their stone barricades, keeping others from going home. With bare hands I began to tear at the walls. Trying to rip it apart, digging my fingers into the cracks until they were bloody and raw. “$name,” Pen said gently from behind me. “No, I have to try. I am not letting them stay there.” I looked down at the woman crying in the street. Mourning whoever was on the other side. I couldn’t ignore her. I couldn’t just walk away from this. Who would I even be if I ignored this all. “$name,” Pen’s hand fell heavy on my shoulder. “Stop.” “No, they’re dying,” I told $himher. “They are. And I’m here to take them.” Suddenly my appearance in this part of the market made sense. I had wanted to go to Pen. And Pen was here to reap a soul. [[Pen, don’t take them]] [[Take them and put them out of their misery]] [[Try to open a void beneath Pen]] I looked upwards. It wasn’t that the walls were tall. They were maybe seven to eight feet. There were souls that wandered through the market that were taller than the walls themselves. Why anyone hadn’t just climbed over the top was beyond me. “Give me a boost,” I told Pen. Pen didn’t even hesitate. Walking to the base of the wall, $heshe clasped his hands together and created a small space for me to step up on. I hoisted myself upwards, reaching for the top of the wall and feeling Pen stand to $hisher full height in order to get me there. Crawling up over the top, I hoisted myself up onto the ledge, expecting to look down and find the girl on the other side of the alley. But there was no one. The alley I saw was bare. No one standing on the other side crying and yet I could still hear her as she began gasping weaker and weaker breathes. “Pen, there isn’t anyone there.” “No. There wound’t be.” “Are they in the walls?” “No?” Pen said with a tip of $hisher head. “They’re in another alley. Just don’t know which alley.” So the walls were impenetrable and going over didn’t lead to the adjacent alleyway. The woman was lost somewhere within the market. And while I may have been the best designed person to help her, I still couldn’t. I hopped back off the wall, looking up and down the alley. “There has to be something I can do.” “In this state? Probably not.” “Then why’d you let me try?” “Because I will always support your tries. Just as I will always support your fails.” $HeShe reached out, chuffing me on the chin. “I support the core of who you are and everything you do. Even if it is incredibly stupid. You know. Like following the failed ritual of a strange man to go and live in your own world but without your memories.” I stared at $himher. “Thanks,” I said dryly. “What are friends for?” $HeShe grinned. “Now. If you’ll excuse me. I have a body to take.” My eyes went wide. “You’re here to take them? “Yes, my friend. They are dying. A lot of people within the market are.” [[Pen, don’t take them]] [[Take them and put them out of their misery]] [[Try to open a void beneath Pen]] Pen, don’t you dare take them,” I said. “You have no right.” “I’m Death. I have all the right.” “This wasn’t their fault,” I protested. These people were locked behind walls because of me. Because of Milo. Because of the dying worlds out there and the people who just wanted to live. The byproducts of all of them didn’t deserve death. Not like this. A gentle hand landed on my shoulder, long piano fingers curling around me. “$name, I have to. It’s my job. I’m sorry.” [[Blackmail Pen]] [[Fight Pen]] [[Agree that this is for the best|Take them and put them out of their misery]] The weeping in the street tore at my heart. I could barely breathe as I listened to the woman crying, pressing herself to the cobblestone wall. The hits and scratches were getting weaker and weaker. It was a slow way to die. Bowing my head, I felt the pain of the moment and the responsibility of it settling on my shoulders. “Just do it,” I told Pen. “Make it quick.” Give them peace. Even with the souls not returning from the well, at least they would no longer be in pain. Pen stepped around me, walking towards the wall and pressing $hisher fingers to it. Slowly, the gasping cries began to fade. I felt the moment the soul disappeared. A light grew around Pen’s hand before disappearing and the sobs of the woman on the wall grew louder and louder. Taking another look at the woman and the wall, Pen groaned. “This is depressing.” Linking arms with me, $heshe snapped me out of the alley and back down into the Deep. We sat on a bed of coral. Deep verdant green swatches of seaweed waving around us. [[Take me back there]] [[Do you have any ideas on how to save these people?]] [[I need to be corporeal again, Pen]] “No,” I said. “Cute, but you don’t command me, remember? Not of your domain.” I stepped between $himher and the wall. “You’re not doing this, Pen. I’ll fight you on this one.” $HeShe looked genuinely amused at the idea of it. “Will you? I’d love to see you try.” Holding out $hisher arms, $heshe tipped $hisher head back. “Hit me. Let me feel your worst.” <<if $pen == "male">>I didn’t even hesitate. Stepping forward, I curled my fist and hit him as hard as I could. The skin against his jaw popped beneath my knuckles and a crack went through the market. “What the fuck?” Pen shouted, eyes wide and hand to his jaw. “I mean, it didn’t hurt because you are a kitten batting me but seriously, $name. A little rude!” <<elseif $pen == "female">> I didn't hesitate. Stepping forward, I went to hit her, feeling the guilt swarm up in me. She just rolled her eyes, stepping out of the way and making it so my punch glanced off her shoulder. "Really?" she asked, looking at where the hit had landed.<</if>> “You are not taking anyone to the well, Pen. It’s not–” “Nolita?” Both of us paused. Slowly, I turned, looking towards the weeping woman and the scratching upon the wall. She was curled forward, a large hole in the wall, a young girl staring out at her with pale eyes. “Nolita,” she screamed, pulling the girl through the wall. “Oh, gods. Nolita, I thought you were dead. I thought…” My eyes turned back to Pen. “Did I… did we… Does hitting you open up the walls?” <<if $pen == "male">>Pen began backing up. “No. No no no. That’s not…” But his eyes ticked downwards. “I mean, maybe? Try it again.”<<elseif $pen == "female">>"Why don't you just try a friend slap or something?" she asked, not really saying yes or no to my querey.<</if>> “We’d have to find another person stuck.” “Alright. I’m good with it.” [[Find another person]] [[I don’t know if we should]] <<set $freepeople to "true">> I took off down the street to find another knock on the wall. Someone still trying to get through that had been forgotten. Pen walked behind me, not looking as enthusiastic about it all but not far from my back. We found another weak knock further down the alley. It was so silent I almost missed it. Turning to Pen, I swallowed. “Okay. So do I just hit you again?” <<if $pen == "male">>“Yes? I hate that I just said that. Alright, get it over with.” Tipping his chin upwards, he closed one eye, waiting. I hit him in the shoulder this time, trying to soften the blow. Immediately, we turned to the wall, watching as the cobblestones began to move.<<elseif $pen == "female">>"Slap, remember?" she said, a touch of amusement on her lips. "A friendly cuff on the shoulder, if you will." I nodded as I stepped up and flicking my hand across her shoulder, feeling like a fool for even doing so. But we both turned to the wall, watchingas the cobblestones began to move.<</if>> “What?” I asked in disbelief. “Why? Why would that even…” A man fell through, gasping. Looking around the world and blinking several times. Trying his hardest to orient himself. It made no sense. There should be no reason for this to make a wall open. The very idea of it was absurd. But before I could say anything, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. I stumbled backwards, Pen catching me. “Alright. Time to go,” Pen said softly. Linking arms with me, he snapped me out of the alley and back down into the Deep. We sat on a bed of coral. Deep verdant green swatches of seaweed waving around us. [[Take me back there]] [[Do you have any ideas on how to save these people?]] [[I need to be corporeal again, Pen]] “Should we? That seems rather… violent.” <<if $pen == "male">>“I don’t know. Maybe we hug or something? No hitting. Or maybe you just give me a good shove?” <<elseif $pen == "female">> "It's only violent if you make it violent. Just shove me."<</if>> “I could do the shove,” I told $himher. “Then what are we waiting for?” I took off down the street to find another knock on the wall. Someone still trying to get through that had been forgotten. Pen walked behind me, not looking as enthusiastic about it all but not far from my back. We found another weak knock further down the alley. It was so silent I almost missed it. Holding my breath, I turned to face Pen before slowly pulling $herhim into a hug. It felt silly in the end. Like nothing was going to happen as the faint knocks continued. But then, the ground beneath our feet began to rumble and the walls behind us began to move. As the cobblestones split apart, a man fell through, gasping. He looked around the world and blinked several times, trying his hardest to orient himself. It made no sense. There should be no reason violence like that would make a wall open. But before I could say anything, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. I stumbled backwards, Pen catching me. “Alright. Time to go,” Pen said softly. Linking arms with me, $heshe snapped me out of the alley and back down into the Deep. We sat on a bed of coral. Deep verdant green swatches of seaweed waving around us. [[Take me back there]] [[Do you have any ideas on how to save these people?]] [[I need to be corporeal again, Pen]] Stepping forward, I placed my hand on the ground near Pen’s foot. I thought of the ground opening. The cobblestones pulling apart and Pen falling through. I could feel the rumble. The way the ground began to shift and the very essence of the market beginning to pull apart. When I opened my eyes, there was a hole in the ground. Pen, however, floated above it. “Aw, cute! You made your first hole!” Still crouched, I looked up at $himher. “I hate the way you said that.” Sidestepping, $heshe grinned at me. “I know, my friend. But that was adorable and I really do want to pat you on the head for that but I am terrified you’ll try to throw a wall at me.” “Would that work to open the wall?” “Maybe?” Briefly, I thought about trying to throw the wall at $himher. Given the size of the hole I had made in the ground I didn’t feel as if I had much hope for that. But I didn’t want $himher reaping the soul on the other side. But Pen stepped around me, walking towards the wall and pressing $hisher fingers to it. Slowly, the gasping cries began to fade. I felt the moment the soul disappeared. A light grew around Pen’s hand before disappearing and the sobs of the woman on the wall grew louder and louder. Taking another look at the woman and the wall, Pen groaned. “This is depressing.” Linking arms with me, $heshe snapped me out of the alley and back down into the Deep. We sat on a bed of coral. Deep verdant green swatches of seaweed waving around us. [[Take me back there]] [[Do you have any ideas on how to save these people?]] [[I need to be corporeal again, Pen]] I stepped up to him, narrowing my gaze at his own brown, soft, fathomless fake face. “You remember about a milenia ago? When you were just a young Death. And you didn’t want to reap animals. Because it made you incredibly sad to take an animal's life and you didn’t know where to put them because you were using the animal well as overflow? You remember that Pen?” Pen’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.” “So, you ended up ignoring that death is natural and then we had an overpopulation of animals to the point where the Gatekeeper had to get rid of them all. But that’s against the natural order of things and you would absolutely be held responsible for that. So you made paper animals and I helped give them life? Tell me if you are forgetting this part of the story, Pen.” $HeShe bristled, arm crossing in front of their chest. “What do you want?” “If you don’t stop reaping the souls that are stuck within the walls? I’m going to find a way to find your Father and tell him what you did.” Pen took a step back. “That’s cold.” “And yet, if you take a life like that, I am going to do it. It might not be in this form, but it will be a mission well worth my time.” Pen looked irritated. A look that rarely crossed $hisher face. “Fine. They can remain there. Scared. Instead of going back into the well where–” “Where they have no guarantee of being reborn,” I interrupted. “At least here, they can maybe get out. //We// can maybe figure a way to get them out.” “//We?//” “Not you.” “Thank you.” Taking another look at the woman and the wall, Pen groaned. “This is depressing.” Linking arms with me, he snapped me out of the alley and back down into the Deep. We sat on a bed of coral. Deep verdant green swatches of seaweed waving around us. [[Take me back there]] [[Do you have any ideas on how to save these people?]] [[I need to be corporeal again, Pen]] <<set $blackmailpen to "true">> I followed Belladonna, slipping out of the room to the onyx courtyard filled with vases of purple flame. The glass bar wrapped around the back of the room, several people hooked up to small tubes that allowed blood to be poured on tap. Others laid throughout the room, letting vampires come and sip at their flesh. Bare thighs were exposed in long lines of soft and supple skin where crimson dripped from small wounds like delicate rubies down onto velvet settees. A few turned Belladonna’s way as she strutted past but she paid them no mind. Ducking beneath the verdant hedges, I watched the waxy leaves recoil. Pitched into darkness, I struggled to keep up with Bella. The market itself was devoid of any light. The candles that normally lit the streets since the lanterns were at rest were not present here. Not that someone like Belladonna needed them. Or any vampires for that matter. As we walked I could hear several pairs of feet shuffling, the muffled gag of someone in pain. The deep sucking sensation of lips to veins. Belladonna stopped for none of it. Twisting through the market walls, most of which were crumbling to the ground. There was small clicks and pops as the cobblestones rearranged themselves for her. I looked down at my own hands, wondering if it was me that was doing it, or if it was just the way of the market now. “Ms. Malady?” A small voice came from the dark. Belladonna stopped. In the cover of night, I could see her irritation as she tipped back her head and counted to ten. Then, slowly, she turned. “May I help you?” “You are Belladonna Malady are you not?” There was a shadow towards the edge of the alley. The voice sounded young, and the figure looked quite small. “If you are here to kill me may I just say that others have tried and have failed abysmally. I really don’t have time to kill you, dear. Please just scurry on your way and start your life elsewhere.” “But, Ms. Malady,” the girl stepped out of the shadows, her face gaunt and melting. “You owe me.” I recoiled at the sight before me. The smell that accompanied it was putrid. Belladonna looked all too ready to just rip the thing's head from its shoulders and move on. “No one owes anyone anything, dear. It’s the biggest tragedy of the world. You are owed nothing and you will die with nothing.” “You were supposed to save me,” the girl continued. She ambled forward, one leg dragging behind her as she came forward. “You were supposed to produce miracles.” “Alright. I am done with this.” Belladonna began to shove by the girl, paying her no mind. The girl was not having it though. She lunged towards Bella, screaming loudly as she sunk her fingers into Bella’s thighs. Bella reached out, clutching the girl's head and snapping it with quick and brutal efficiency. The body dropped and disintegrated into nothing more than silver dust. [[Examine the dust particles]] [[Belladonna, what the hell just happened?]] [[Try to cover up the evidence of this murder]] Bending down, I looked down at the dust particles. They glowed slightly. A silver sheen was cast upon them but it was more than that. In the pitch of night, they emitted a small sheen of light. I could hear the haunting lilt of a song coming from the remains of the decaying girl and when I reached down, scooping the particles within my hand, the tune became deafening. I stumbled back, a swirling mass of stars circling my head as I felt my body propel through the cosmos, screaming apart before I hit back down on the cobblestone streets again. Right at Belladonna’s feet. She jumped back, feeling the impact but not quite seeing me. I couldn’t say anything though. As I laid on my back panting, she looked all around. “Is there another one out there?” she asked to the void. “You sending two at a time now?” I caught my breath, rolling to my knees and taking another look at the quickly disappearing ash. Whatever that girl had been, it was not native to the market. Belladonna said nothing more as she turned and walked away. Clearly done with her day at this point. I ran to catch up with her, hopping over crumbling walls and decaying bodies. I knew without any doubt that the vampires had moved on from the mists. Where they had once hunted within the cover of the fog, they now used the darkness to run free. I wondered if Belladonna had anything to do with it. If she had any control over the vampires at all or if by becoming Baron, she had lost more than she thought she would have gained. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t reach out to her. I couldn’t call out to her. I was nothing to her at this moment than another events to get through. As her form began to recede I felt the urge to get closer to her. Not let her go. [[Try to keep up and follow Bella]] [[Call out to her]] <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Fall into the dark]]<</if>>“Belladonna, what the hell just happened?” I looked back and forth between her and the pile of dust. Panic growing in my chest. Since becoming the Baron I knew that assassination attempts had been ample but I had never seen one actually happen. Belladonna had done well to keep me from danger for most of my time within the Night Market. This, however, was her new norm. Yet, she didn’t look shocked. Or even perturbed by it all. She only stared at the dusting on the ground with growing disgust. “Not very loving of you, is it?” she asked the pile, kicking at it with her toe. She said nothing more as she turned and walked away. Clearly done with her day at this point. I ran to catch up with her, hopping over crumbling walls and decaying bodies. I knew without any doubt that the vampires had moved on from the mists. Where they had once hunted within the cover of the fog, they now used the darkness to run free. I wondered if Belladonna had anything to do with it. If she had any control over the vampires at all or if by becoming Baron, she had lost more than she thought she would have gained. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t reach out to her. I couldn’t call out to her. I was nothing to her at this moment than another events to get through. As her form began to recede I felt the urge to get closer to her. Not let her go. [[Try to keep up and follow Bella]] [[Call out to her]] <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Fall into the dark]]<</if>> The dust littered the street. It edged into the cobblestone, small bits of moss blooming beneath the ash. Bits of life that wouldn’t last in a world with nothing to offer it in the way of nourishment. I bent down, running my fingers over the pile of dust and moss. My fingers passed through it and deep into the cobbled streets. Cocking my head to the side, I pushed the dust downwards, burying the evidence of this death. Because despite Belladonna being a Baron, the last thing she needed was a murder on her hands. By the time I was done, Belladonna was nothing more than a silhouette far down the alleyway, I ran to catch up with her, hopping over crumbling walls and decaying bodies. I knew without any doubt that the vampires had moved on from the mists. Where they had once hunted within the cover of the fog, they now used the darkness to run free. I wondered if Belladonna had anything to do with it. If she had any control over the vampires at all or if by becoming Baron, she had lost more than she thought she would have gained. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t reach out to her. I couldn’t call out to her. I was nothing to her at this moment than another events to get through. As her form began to recede I felt the urge to get closer to her. Not let her go. [[Try to keep up and follow Bella]] [[Call out to her]] <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Fall into the dark]]<</if>> Turning, the image around me changed. It was with such a sudden shift that I stumbled. The alley was coated in blood and smelled of fire. And in the midst of it all, Belladonna stood panting. Her chest rising and falling in a pained wheeze, blood dripping from her fingers. Around her, the ground was littered with dismembered corpses. Eyes wide in fear. The ground breathed with the life she had taken, steam rising off the recently deceased bodies. “Mistress?” Belladonna’s head snapped up, a crack filling the air as large leathery bat wings folded back down, splitting her skin as they disappeared beneath her dress. She held up a hand, licking the blood from her fingers. At the opening of the alley stood the woman from the blood bar. Gadora. She stared at Belladonna, silently taking in the surroundings. “We need to go, mistress. Too many questions will be asked.” “Questions?” Belladonna asked. She began walking forward, the blood beneath her bare feet lighting into pools of deep swirling magma. “By who?” she asked innocently. “The Warden? The people of the market?” she laughed a little to herself. “The Knowing? Oh, sweet Gadora.” Stepping forward, she cupped the woman's cheek, her hand leaving a bloody streak as it slipped down her face. “We are alone,” she said, leaning in close. “No one cares any longer.” A giggle escaped her lips as she began to sway on her feet. [[She’s blood drunk]] [[The alley needs to disappear along with the evidence]] [[Examine the bodies more carefully]] “Belladonna!” Her name ripped from me. I could feel the way it tore from my chest and spread into the market. She stopped. My heart pounded in my ears, pulsing throughout the streets. For a moment, I was certain she had heard me. She turned and looked over her shoulder, peering through the dark of the market. “Bella,” I said, this time my tone pleading. I just needed her to hear me. If I could just get one single person to hear me while I walked in this space, then I could maybe find the way back home. But Bella turned. Walking into the dark. I fell against the wall, staring up into the voidless sky. Out of everyone I knew, I should have guessed that Belladonna would be the one not to see me. Or even hear me. The eyes and ears of the Night Market and yet she couldn’t even interact with the Market itself. It was funny in a depressingly ironic way and just ended up setting a heaviness against my chest. I slid down the wall, resting my head in my hands. This was pointless. And yet, the click of heels was not fading. They were getting louder and louder until… “Do better,” she whispered, passing me by. Whether she was talking to me or one of the people after here, I didn’t know. I hoped she was talking to me though. [[I’m trying. I just don’t know how to contact you]] [[I need help]] [[Oh yes. Because you are one to talk. You do better]]“I’m trying,” I told her. “I just don’t know how to contact you.” It wasn’t like there was any sort of directions to this. I was the one who was supposed to make the rules but I felt half the time like I was screaming in the dark. A point of frustration that was beginning to get overwhelming. Because what was the point of being the Night Market if I couldn’t do anything? She didn’t hear me. At this point, I didn’t even expect her to. To get home, Belladonna may not be the avenue I needed to go down. Which made me feel hopeless. Because if this was something Belladonna Malady couldn’t tackle, how was anyone else supposed to? The pounding of feet sounded down the alley and Belladonna sunk into the shadows. A group of individuals were laughing uproariously, their clothes all splattered with blood. I expected to see the glint of fangs but I saw nothing but normal human features and knives strapped to their belts. [[Next|Belladonna 2]]“I need help,” I told her. “I can’t do this on my own. I didn’t even get here on my own the last time.” It was doubtful I would be able to get here on my own this time either. I would need help. Another avenue to look down. But with Milo closing the gates like he did, I didn’t even know if that was possible anymore. She didn’t hear me. At this point, I didn’t even expect her to. To get home, Belladonna may not be the avenue I needed to go down. Which made me feel hopeless. Because if this was something Belladonna Malady couldn’t tackle, how was anyone else supposed to? The pounding of feet sounded down the alley and Belladonna sunk into the shadows. A group of individuals were laughing uproariously, their clothes all splattered with blood. I expected to see the glint of fangs but I saw nothing but normal human features and knives strapped to their belts. [[Next|Belladonna 2]]“Oh, you’re one to talk,” I snapped. “Why should I do better, huh Bella? Why can’t you see me? Why don’t you do better? Novel little idea, isn’t it. To do it yourself as opposed to demanding that someone else does it for you.” Her face hovered in front of mine. I didn’t even see her move. She was suddenly there, the icy cold of her skin reaching out for my own and the deep gold eyes swirling with fire. She breathed in deeply, her eyes searching every inch of my face. I very nearly couldn’t breathe myself. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>”My heart?” she breathed, pain the likes of which I had not heard from her before. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "false">>”Dear heart?” she asked curiously.<</if>> I went to reach or her, hands passing through. “Yes. Belladonna, it’s me. You have to see me. Come on. Just–” She stood as quickly as she had come to my side and I nearly screamed in irritation. I could hear the pounding of other feet, however as a group of individuals came wandering down the alleyway, laughing uproariously, blood splattered on their clothes. Belladonna looked at them and rolled her eyes, disappearing in a flutter of wings. I was left there, watching as the people passed by, and hating every single one of them for breaking the spell. [[Next|Belladonna 2]] The Night Market was filled with secrets only told in the dark. The little secrets that everyone held so dear, hiding behind crudely built walls. I wondered how many were checking up on Belladonna. How many were asking if she was okay and believing her. I wondered if she trusted anyone to let them know that she was completely falling apart. There was a shaking knowledge that I could not explain when it came to her. But Belladonna was one of those individuals that would suffer in silence. Meanwhile, the rest of the world would just assume she was fine and not understand when she buckled under the pressure. I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Taking a step forward, I made to follow her but my feet slipped. I could feel the ground open up beneath me as I fell far down. I reached for something, anything to keep me afloat but instead, I hit a soft bed made of silk. The scent of roses and old violets filling the air. A moan echoed softly from the corner of the room, followed by a soft sucking sound. As my fingers reached out, I felt the lines of the bed beneath me. I was tucked in, my body naked beneath deep plum silks. “Deeper.” I startled. Belladonna’s husky tones sounded from right beside me. She lounged on top of the sheets, crisscrossing black leather binding across her breasts and midsection with only a dark slip of spiked leather covering her wet curls. My eyes followed her line of sight. Near the fireplace an individual laid, their eyes glassy and lips parted. A vampire laid across them, lips attached to their neck, blood dribbling down their skin. And the individual? The resemblance was a stark likeness to me. There was no missing it. The vampire pulled away, looking up at Belladonna. “Are you sure, my lady?” she asked. She had fiery red hair and an angular face. “Deeper,” Belladonna said. The vampire dipped their head back down and the lookalike arched in bliss. I turned my gaze back to Bella, watching the way her chest rose and fell as her eyes traced the lines of the undulating bodies on the settee. Hands were wandering much lower than I could see from my position and Belladonna eagerly followed each caress. “Are you sure you would not like a taste, mistress?” the vampire said, mumbling around a mouthful. “The contract said others would be a welcome inclusion. This one's nectar is the sweetest.” “Stop talking,” Belladonna said. “I am not here to listen to you. I am here to watch and make sure you are worth the price you are charging others.” The vampire's head dipped. “Yes, ma’am.” [[Watch what Bella does]] [[Watch the couple on the settee]] [[Try to reach out and touch Bella]] My eyes were only for Belladonna. I didn’t care about whoever was on the settee. I wanted to drink her in. Watch each way her eyes greedily looked on. The tick of her lips. What made her squirm. But she only looked sad. The curve of her abdomen was concave. Her skin still polished marble but just not as smooth. And her eyes were dull. She was a woman who had gotten everything she had wanted and in one night, had lost so much as well. “Oh, Bella,” I whispered. She dipped her head downwards, sucking in a sharp breath and digging her nails into her palms. Slowly, she rose. No one else noticed the way she moved slower than usual. Or the way her head hung. Taking her robe, she wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her hair out from the collar and letting it tumble down her back. “Clean up when you’re done, my darling,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady,” the vampire said, licking her lips. “Please, it would honor us if you continued to watch. Perhaps afterward, you could sip from me and enjoy such pleasure as well?” There was no light behind Belladonna’s eyes as she stared at them, but the smile was just as sultry and welcoming on her face as it had ever been. “Not tonight, my darling. But please. Enjoy yourself.” She turned, walking out the door. “Someone should.” And around me, the room went dark. [[Next|Belladonna 3]] The sucking nose was distracting, garnering my attention towards the writhing bodies near the fire. They twined together elegantly, rising and falling in a rhythm that mimicked something far more intimate. The likeness they both had to Belladonna and I had to have been intentional. Especially with the way that Belladonna was staring at the two of them. The rooms was hers though. It was Bella’s chamber back behind the Pleasure District where she had initially taken me for tea. The lights were burning low and flickering through the room casting suggestive shadows. Behind me, I heard the shift of silk sheets as Belladonna rose from the bed. I watched as her hips swayed across the room, the ample curve of her rear on full display. I swallowed hungrily at the sight of it. What I wouldn’t give to be in the room with her now. Taking her robe, she wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her hair out from the collar and letting it tumble down her back. “Clean up when you’re done, my darling,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady,” the vampire said, licking her lips. “Please, it would honor us if you continued to watch. Perhaps afterward, you could sip from me and enjoy such pleasure as well?” There was no light behind Belladonna’s eyes as she stared at them, but the smile was just as sultry and welcoming on her face as it had ever been. “Not tonight, my darling. But please. Enjoy yourself.” She turned, walking out the door. “Someone should.” And around me, the room went dark. [[Next|Belladonna 3]] I went to touch her. To do the very thing she would have never let me do while alive. But somehow, even in death, she rolled away. “I’m done with you.” Grabbing her silk robe, she crossed her arms, looking at the settee with a small amount of disgust. “Leave and take this elsewhere.” The vampire blinked. “I don’t think the client can move at the moment.” It was like staring at my own face. Seeing hollow eyes that were blissed out and far far away. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to stand after such a session. The bite marks and blood that marked the expanse of supple skin before me left me wondering if I would have even been alive in such a state. Belladonna did not care. Stepping forward, she grabbed the vampire by the back of her hair, arching her head backwards. “Did I not make myself clear?” The woman hissed, trying to get their feet beneath them. “Mistress, I’m sorry. Please. It was a mistake. We will leave. I promise. We will–” Belladonna threw them across the room, the vampire hitting the far wall and cracking the plaster. She lay in a naked heap on the ground. Belladonna looked at her with little care. “I’m going for a walk. Be gone before I get back lest I use you as a display piece in the main lobby.” The door slammed as Belladonna left. And around me, the room went dark. [[Next|Belladonna 3]] I couldn’t get their faces out of my mind. The ones that were entwined on the couch. Belladonna’s sad eyes as she watched the way they moved together. The things that she would never share. The very things she would take with her until the end. There was a shaking knowledge that I could not explain when it came to her. But Belladonna was one of those individuals that would suffer in silence. Meanwhile, the rest of the world would just assume she was fine and not understand when she buckled under the pressure. I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Out of everyone I had met, Hazel was the most superstitious. She viewed the world with unique eyes, finding signs and portents in nearly everything. If there was somehow a way I could show her I was still here, I couldn’t help but think that it might help ease her pain. Just a bit, at least. Stepping forward, I looked around me. I had never been good at manipulating the plants. And the wisps were not of this realm at all. But she had little makeshift lanterns strung about the garden. Ones that were not connected to me but maybe if they glowed, she would understand that I was here. I walked over to the little globes that were dusted with due. With a single finger, I reached up, willing them to light. To just flicker enough to catch her attention. Slowly, small embers burned within, brightening the garden and illuminating my face. Snapping my head towards Hazel’s, I went to see if she was looking. Willing her to just turn around. But the bulbs all popped, showering me with glass. The back door screeched open and at my feet, Mr. Billows began hissing. “This doesn’t look much like a harvest.” The woman's voice was deep and raspy, her words rolling with purpose. I felt it across my shoulders. A slow and intrusive weight. Quickly, Hazel wiped her eyes and began digging in the dirt once more. “Sorry, mother. I should have the carrots up in a moment.” The woman stepped down, coming to stand as a shadow over Hazel. “Yes. They aren’t quite carrots, though, are they? More misshapen roots.” Hazel hunched forward. “I wasn’t able to get out here and tend to them as much as before. There are a lot of other things that have been going on.” “My darling girl.” The woman knelt by Hazel. She had sharp features and wavy black hair that hung well past her shoulders. Her eyes were bright green with a glow cast to to them. I could see some of the resemblance but she held none of the softness that Hazel always did. When she tipped Hazel’s face up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not criticizing you,” she said. “You need not make excuses for your behaviors.” Above the trees whistled with a dying wind while Mr. Billows slinked off through the gate. Other than Hazel's weeping, the garden was quiet. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Back away from her you hag]]<</if>> [[Follow Mr. Billows and leave them]] [[Hazel always has been too hard on herself]] I tried to switch what I was seeing. Like when I was with Malcolm, it was clear that I had wandered into a memory. One after my ‘passing’. I didn’t think I had the heart to see Hazel upset like this, however. I didn’t want to see what this had all done to her. The girl who had not left her home for long periods of time because of fear of what the market could do. And then she leaves only for all hell to break loose. I couldn’t imagine what that was going to do to her. But, in an ironic twist of fate and one I was sure I was somehow putting on myself, I couldn't turn away. Not yet, at least. I was forced to watch as the tears dripped down her face. As she bowed her head and wept. It was as if I was not allowed to turn from the things I had done. The back door screeched open and at my feet, Mr. Billows began hissing. “This doesn’t look much like a harvest.” The woman's voice was deep and raspy, her words rolling with purpose. I felt it across my shoulders. A slow and intrusive weight. Quickly, Hazel wiped her eyes and began digging in the dirt once more. “Sorry, mother. I should have the carrots up in a moment.” The woman stepped down, coming to stand as a shadow over Hazel. “Yes. They aren’t quite carrots, though, are they? More misshapen roots.” Hazel hunched forward. “I wasn’t able to get out here and tend to them as much as before. There are a lot of other things that have been going on.” “My darling girl.” The woman knelt by Hazel. She had sharp features and wavy black hair that hung well past her shoulders. Her eyes were bright green with a glow cast to to them. I could see some of the resemblance but she held none of the softness that Hazel always did. When she tipped Hazel’s face up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not criticizing you,” she said. “You need not make excuses for your behaviors.” Above the trees whistled with a dying wind while Mr. Billows slinked off through the gate. Other than Hazel's weeping, the garden was quiet. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Back away from her you hag]]<</if>> [[Follow Mr. Billows and leave them]] [[Hazel always has been too hard on herself]] Silently, I knelt by her side. She couldn’t see me, but there was a very small part of me that hoped that she might be able to feel me. Hazel had always been good at things like that. Above us, the sky was dark like always, but an extra layer of bleakness now seemed to swirl above the apothecary. Like the world around her was weeping along with her. Tears dripped from her cheeks, falling to the dirt floor to sizzle. Harsh sobs were wracking her body as she clutched her middle tight. From here, I could see the extent of damage on her hands. Magic had warped them. Blackening her skin and tinging small swaths of it a sickly green. I wondered if she had fought to bring me back. Or if she had simply not been taking care of herself like she should. “Why?” she gasped out. “Why did you have to go to that ball?” She hadn’t wanted me to leave. She hadn’t even wanted to attend herself. I still remember when she showed up that night. Dressed in her finest green gown, a hesitant smile on her lips. <<if $hazelro == "true">> She had shown up for me. Because she wanted to prove to me that she could do this. My soft, sweet and caring girl. Always looking out for others. Never wanting to let anyone down. She had the kindest heart I thought I had ever encountered and it killed me that perhaps my actions had tainted that.<</if>> “I want you home,” she whispered brokenly. <<if $hazelro == "true">> “I love you. I just want you home with me.”<</if>> “I’m working on it,” I told her gently. If I was able to get home, the first place I would go would be here. I wouldn’t even stop. <<if $hazelro == "true">> To get to hold her in my arms again was the only thing I even wished.<</if>> The back door screeched open and at my feet, Mr. Billows began hissing. “This doesn’t look much like a harvest.” The woman's voice was deep and raspy, her words rolling with purpose. I felt it across my shoulders. A slow and intrusive weight. Quickly, Hazel wiped her eyes and began digging in the dirt once more. “Sorry, mother. I should have the carrots up in a moment.” The woman stepped down, coming to stand as a shadow over Hazel. “Yes. They aren’t quite carrots, though, are they? More misshapen roots.” Hazel hunched forward. “I wasn’t able to get out here and tend to them as much as before. There are a lot of other things that have been going on.” “My darling girl.” The woman knelt by Hazel. She had sharp features and wavy black hair that hung well past her shoulders. Her eyes were bright green with a glow cast to to them. I could see some of the resemblance but she held none of the softness that Hazel always did. When she tipped Hazel’s face up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not criticizing you,” she said. “You need not make excuses for your behaviors.” Above the trees whistled with a dying wind while Mr. Billows slinked off through the gate. Other than Hazel's weeping, the garden was quiet. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Back away from her you hag]]<</if>> [[Follow Mr. Billows and leave them]] [[Hazel always has been too hard on herself]] I stood immediately, stepping towards Lucinda. “Back away from her, you hag.” Around me, the world wavered. The grey wash flickering between Hazel’s garden and a screaming black void that I constantly had to fight off. I didn’t want Lucinda Albright anywhere near Hazel. It had taken Hazel years to claw her way up from the endless night her mother had shoved her in and the fact that Lucinda was back, conveniently at Hazel’s weakest, did not sit right with me. “You won’t touch her,” I snarled at the woman. Her hand came down on Hazel’s shoulder, fingers twisting around the cap sleeve of Hazel’s shift. Kneeling beside her, Lucinda drew Hazel close, holding her daughters head to her heart. “Oh, my darling. You ache with grief,” she whispered. But her eyes were not on the tears that her daughter shed. Instead, they were on me. A smile curling across her lips. “You can see me,” I said, my breath halting for one stuttered moment. “Hush now,” she started, soothing Hazel’s hair from her eyes. “I am so sorry, my darling. I forget just how much you have been through. I can only hope that no one will ever do such a thing to you again.” ”I loved ?them, mother,” Hazel cried. “I know, my darling,” Lucinda said with a sigh. “But sometimes, we love people who were never meant to have the entirety of our love.” “What do you mean?” Cupping her face in her hands, Lucinda sighed patiently at her little girl. “Oh, my darling. $name was the Night Market. It was not a love that was going to last. I only wished ?they had had a bit more foresight and not made you fall for them. It was cruel, in the end.” “But $name didn’t know,” Hazel protested. “The omnipotent world in which we live on didn’t know?” Lucinda clucked her tongue. “Darling, ?they knew. It was just far more important for ?them to have their experience than think of yours.” [[That’s not true]] [[You bitch]] [[It started that way but didn’t end like that]] There was a part of me that knew I should stay here. See exactly what was going on with Lucinda and Hazel. But I didn’t know if I could look at Hazel’s grief too much longer. It was raw and painful and reminded me of everything I did not have at the moment. So when Billows began to sneak away from the garden, I followed. I could hear Lucinda’s raspy voice behind me but tried not to turn. Whatever that situation was would have to be dealt with later. Billows hopped up on to the wall, running down the alley way and out towards the three tiered fountain. Despite the dark, I kept up. The walls around me bleeding away and reappearing down at a small fish market. I could hear the comings and goings of a bustling market. The vendors hawking their wares. But the only living creatures I saw was Billows and Malcolm. “What are you doing here?” Malcolm crouched down, scratching Mr. Billows behind his ears. The cat nipped at him and I could have sworn, narrowed his gaze in a glower. “What’s that about?” Reaching somewhere I couldn’t see, Malcolm produced a small fish. “Hungry?” But again, Billows batted at his hand, nipping at the pads of his fingers. “Alright, Bill? I am not a mind reader. What are you even doing all the way out here? Hazel’s going to get worried if you don’t come home.” Rubbing up against him, Billows beckoned for Malcolm to follow. And Malcolm, being the man that he was, of course did. So who was I to give up on the party? [[Next|Mr Billows Adventure]] “That’s not true,” I protested. “Tell her. That isn’t true. She means the world to me. I’m trying to get back to her.” But Lucinda only looked at me with a cruel twist of a smile. “You poor, thing. Always forgotten.” I had to get back. More than ever I knew I needed to get back to Hazel. To these streets. Because no matter how little time passed, it was still too long. Too much time for Lucinda Albright to whisper lies within Hazel’s ears. “It just hurts so much,” Hazel gasped. “I don’t know how I can do this. I don’t want to do this without ?them.” A look came over Lucinda’s eyes then. One that clearly spoke of the type of woman she was. “The pain of losing someone can be unbearable,” she agreed. “And as your mother, you must understand, I would do anything to make this pain go away. You’re my baby.” At the comfort, Hazel only seemed to sob harder, curling into her mother's bony form and burying herself in the folds of her blouse. “That’s right, my darling,” Lucinda said, continuing to look me in the eye. “Forget about ?them. Just forget.” I could see it. The way her magic came withering from the tips of her fingers. Wrapping around Hazel gently. “Just //forget//.” [[I will be coming back for her]] [[If you hurt her…]] [[Hazel, don’t listen to her]]“You bitch,” I spat. “You don’t have to do this. You could tell her I am standing right here. Why are you…” I had to get back. More than ever I knew I needed to get back to Hazel. To these streets. Because no matter how little time passed, it was still too long. Too much time for Lucinda Albright to whisper lies within Hazel’s ears. “It just hurts so much,” Hazel gasped. “I don’t know how I can do this. I don’t want to do this without ?them.” A look came over Lucinda’s eyes then. One that clearly spoke of the type of woman she was. “The pain of losing someone can be unbearable,” she agreed. “And as your mother, you must understand, I would do anything to make this pain go away. You’re my baby.” At the comfort, Hazel only seemed to sob harder, curling into her mother's bony form and burying herself in the folds of her blouse. “That’s right, my darling,” Lucinda said, continuing to look me in the eye. “Forget about ?them. Just forget.” I could see it. The way her magic came withering from the tips of her fingers. Wrapping around Hazel gently. “Just //forget//.” [[I will be coming back for her]] [[If you hurt her…]] [[Hazel, don’t listen to her]] The best lies were always ones based in truth. It had started that way. I hadn’t thought of Hazel. I hadn’t thought of any of them. But it certainly did not end up that way and if I just got the chance to talk to Hazel about it all, I knew she would understand. Hazel was someone that could understand just about any action, as long as you sat and talked with her about it first. But how long until I got back? How long would Lucinda be whispering in her ear. “It just hurts so much,” Hazel gasped. “I don’t know how I can do this. I don’t want to do this without ?them.” A look came over Lucinda’s eyes then. One that clearly spoke of the type of woman she was. “The pain of losing someone can be unbearable,” she agreed. “And as your mother, you must understand, I would do anything to make this pain go away. You’re my baby.” At the comfort, Hazel only seemed to sob harder, curling into her mother's bony form and burying herself in the folds of her blouse. “That’s right, my darling,” Lucinda said, continuing to look me in the eye. “Forget about ?them. Just forget.” I could see it. The way her magic came withering from the tips of her fingers. Wrapping around Hazel gently. “Just //forget//.” [[I will be coming back for her]] [[If you hurt her…]] [[Hazel, don’t listen to her]] I could feel the way my fists were clenching at my sides. The brief snippets of Lucinda Albright I had gathered before had left me with no doubt that she was a manipulative kind of person. But this was something else. “I will be coming back for her,” I told her, in no uncertain terms. “You better not be in my way when I do.” Helping her daughter to her feet, Lucinda brushed the greasy locks of hair from her eyes. “Let’s get you inside. The carrots can wait. Let me brew some tea for you.” Hazel sniffed, nodding her head. “Hazel, no!” Lucinda’s hand was on her back. “Come now, my darling. Let’s go. Leave all this behind. Let mommy take care of you.” I lunged forward, not sure what I was going to do or what difference I was going to be able to make. Lucinda simply put out a hand and I was flung back. [[Next|Hazel 3]]“If you hurt her, I will be coming for you,” I told Lucinda. I didn’t care who this woman was o what she could do. If I found out she laid a single finger on Hazel, I was going to make it my personal mission to eject her from the market and watch as she suffocated within the cosmos. Helping her daughter to her feet, Lucinda brushed the greasy locks of hair from her eyes. “Let’s get you inside. The carrots can wait. Let me brew some tea for you.” Hazel sniffed, nodding her head. “Hazel, no!” Lucinda’s hand was on her back. “Come now, my darling. Let’s go. Leave all this behind. Let mommy take care of you.” I lunged forward, not sure what I was going to do or what difference I was going to be able to make. Lucinda simply put out a hand and I was flung back. [[Next|Hazel 3]]“Hazel, don’t listen to her,” I said desperately. There was some blind hope in me that if I screamed loud enough, she would be able to hear me. “I’m coming back for you. I’m //trying//, Hazel. I’m //trying//.” Helping her daughter to her feet, Lucinda brushed the greasy locks of hair from her eyes. “Let’s get you inside. The carrots can wait. Let me brew some tea for you.” Hazel sniffed, nodding her head. “Hazel, no!” Lucinda’s hand was on her back. “Come now, my darling. Let’s go. Leave all this behind. Let mommy take care of you.” I lunged forward, not sure what I was going to do or what difference I was going to be able to make. Lucinda simply put out a hand and I was flung back. [[Next|Hazel 3]] I was knocked into the three-tiered fountain. The basin of it slamming into my spine and causing my head to spin. I had been shoved back with such force that it took a moment for my breath to come back to me. But as I stared down the soot soaked alley that led to the Apothecary, I pushed myself up. I wasn’t about to leave Hazel there alone with her mother. If I had to, I would haunt those halls until Pen fixed the well. It took only three steps to appear within the Apothecary walls. The day much different. Lucinda nowhere to be seen. The Apothecary somehow looked different. Less lived in. Less of a home. The little lantern that was above the door was cracked and lifeless while the darker corners of the room were swarming with shadows. Hazel had spent so much of her time trying to bat them away and now they coated the walls in viney tendrils that dripped with weeping black tears. “Maybe we shouldn’t… I just mean…” It was Hazel’s voice that came through first. I turned, looking towards the small dip in the floor where the sofas were all crammed and the old plank table was normally filled with food. My heart stopped, and the world froze for one prolonged moment. There they sat, just like they had so many times before. Belladonna on the arm of a chair. Gabriel stiff straight on the wood sofa. Hazel across the way, hands resting nervously in her lap and Malcolm, right next to her, head bowed. The only one missing was Milo. His usual stance, leaning against the pillar behind the sofa, was oddly empty. When I sucked in air again, time resumed. “We need to bury ?them,” Malcolm said gently. A tear slipped from Hazel’s eye. That kind and sweet gaze was puffy, swollen nearly shut from tears. Thick swaths of black and green magic coated her hands and her lips were bloodless as if she had been drained. “I don’t accept that,” she said desperately. Tipping her head up towards both Belladonna and Gabriel, she silently begged them for support. “You two can’t possibly agree with this, can you?” Gabriel was unmoving. He stared off to the opposite side of the room, as if he didn’t even realize he was there. And Belladonna? Her clothes were soaked with blood, the smell of brimstone coating her. No longer were her lips tinted red with rogue but instead with the cooling life of others. “Someone say something,” Hazel cried. Belladonna was the one who sighed. “What is it you would like for me to say, Hazel dear? That I relish the idea of putting the dear market into the cold ground? Or that I think ?they will come back without any interference?” “I just want someone to say something,” Hazel protested. “I called you two here to talk about this. $name was important to all of us and yet you two are just sitting here and–” “And you are very welcome for that,” Belladonna snapped. “I have things to do, Albright. This is not one of them.” Malcolm tipped his head up. “Belladonna, I think deciding how to lay $name to rest is far more important than going on a manhunt through the market.” Her lips curled upwards, her fangs on display. “I’m sure you do,” she sneered. I had heard that voice on Belladonna before. The one that said she had spotted her prey and was now on a hunt. “Tell me, did you wait until the body was cold before you fucked //him// again?” Malcolm didn’t move but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Watch it, Baron.” “So that’s a yes then.” “Both of you stop!” Hazel shouted. “Just stop. We are here for $name. ?They gave everything for us. The least we can do is discuss how we will be honoring ?them.” “Shoving them in the ground sounds great,” Belladonna said, standing. “Sit down, Bella.” It was the first moment Gabriel had spoken. His voice gravel deep and bleeding. Belladonna didn’t listen to his command. Not that she ever had. But she didn’t storm from the shop like I assumed she would have. Malcolm was taking deep and even breaths. “I think we need to bury ?them. They are a portion of the Night Market. Returning them to their own self is the right thing to do.” “I’m not going to bury ?them for ?them to just wake up inside a coffin,” Hazel started desperately. “This is assuming that $name will even have the ability to come back,” Belladonna said. “Of course ?they will. $name is the literal Night Market. Where else would ?they wish to be but here?” There was silence that roamed through the room. An unsettling question beginning to take form. Would I even want to come back? The answer to me was of course I wanted to but… but could I? [[Try to speak to Gabriel]] [[Try to speak to Hazel]] [[Try to speak to Belladonna]] [[Try to speak to Malcolm]] <<set $lucinda to "true">> Billows took us through the alleyways, my vision skipping as I followed both him and Malcolm. With each blink I saw the passing of time as if it were in the span of a single step, appearing in different parts of the market as we went. When Billows stopped, it was at the bottom of a set of stone steps, just beneath a broken down bit of alleyway that was suspended upside down in the midair. “What am I looking at here, Bill?” Malcolm asked. The cat perched itself on a rock, licking its paw and staring intently at Malcolm. “Fine,” Malcolm laughed. “I’ll play.” I watched as Malcolm began to look around, eyeing the stones that made up the walls, crouching down to take a better look at the ground. The way a trickling little stream came by before turning upwards into the sky. [[Look with him]] [[Watch what Billows is doing]] [[Try to communicate with Malcolm like before]] I tried to look around with him. The building that was suspended above us was nothing more than an empty shell, hanging precariously upside down. Bits of it fell around us but I could see no one wandering the streets above or hear the activity of a thriving life. Sometimes, little places got stuck like this. As if they got made wrong. Something I would have to talk to me about I supposed. The two of us searched the area for a prolonged period of time, Mr. Billows following our gaze intently but making no move to help. A few times, Malcolm shot a question or two his way but the cat's tail just twitched in irritation. As if we were losing precious time. But in the end, we found nothing. It was just another dead end spot to the Night Market. One that looked pretty well forgotten. [[What is the point of being the Night Market if I can do nothing?]] [[This is hopeless]] [[Why did Billows bring us down here then]] I kept my eyes on Mr. Billows. Because he was the one who took us here. There was something he wanted us to find. But given how painfully nondescript this small portion of the alley was, I just didn’t see how we were going to find anything. So, instead, I watched Billows. Looking for the tell. While the cat remained statuesque, there was something different in his eyes. I could see the growing irritation as Malcolm continued to not find whatever it was that he wanted him to uncover. There was a moment where Billows even tried to lunge forward, but he couldn’t. As if something was holding him back. The closer I looked at him, the more I could see it. Something I couldn’t quite tell when I had been alive. I wouldn’t have even known where to look. But it did surprise me that Hazel hadn’t seen it. There was magic all over the cat. But not the magic of the Night Market. No, this was something more. Something much more ancient and powerful. Mr. Billows certainly wasn’t what he claimed to be. It was then that I decided to try and help Malcolm. If only because I was curious. But in the end, we found nothing. It was just another dead end spot to the Night Market. One that looked pretty well forgotten. [[What is the point of being the Night Market if I can do nothing?]] [[This is hopeless]] [[Why did Billows bring us down here then]] Back when Malcolm had been the Gatekeeper, he had spoken to me all the time. Tipping his head up towards the lights and having a full conversation with the lanterns above. The tone of his voice had captivated me. I had followed him from light to light, wishing that I could do more than just blink back at him. Without the lights, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to communicate with him. But I could still try. Crouching down near the water, I tried to manipulate the stream, splashing some of it off to the side in hopes of spelling out a name. The ground was damp and so the overall effect was ineffective. I tried to take the pebbles, little bits of stone that came from me. I flicked them near Malcolm’s feet but they were so small that they landed like dust. And of course, I tried speaking to his face. Hoping that maybe this was all a game and everyone was about to jump out and yell surprise. That they had seen me all along. But nothing. I was nobody to them once more. Not even a light to the Gatekeeper I had called mine. [[What is the point of being the Night Market if I can do nothing?]] [[This is hopeless]] [[Why did Billows bring us down here then]]“What is the point of being the Night Market if I can’t do anything?” I asked out loud. I was the authority in this world. The decisions should have come from me alone. And yet, I couldn’t do a damn thing to help myself. I was arguably the most powerful creature within this realm and I was throwing pebbles at someone's feet. Kicking out, I felt pain race up my foot as I connected with the crumbling bits that rained from the abandoned building above. I groaned in pain, hopping around on one foot and bumping right through Malcolm until I fell, hitting the wall. “What the hell?” I looked up. Malcolm was staring right at me. His eyes were wide, and his head tipped to the side. For one brief moment, I felt hope bloom in me. He could see me. He could actually see me. But then I fell backwards, looking into the long dark crystallized tunnel that had opened up behind me. Billows hopped off his perched and made a small trilling noise as he sauntered by. He walked over my chest, his paws kneading a bit as they clawed at my shirt. To Malcolm, he lifted off the ground. To me, he was getting his digs in for not receiving his morning cream. As I sat up, I turned to look behind me at the stretched out cavern. Black soot lined the entrance and the overwhelming smell of sulfur greeted me. Malcolm smelled it around the same time because he took a step back. The moment I stood, the wall closed, locking us away from the mysterious tunnel and Mr. Billows descent. [[What the hell?]] [[Milo won’t let any of us live it down if that cat is a demon]] [[Still convinced he’s a Baron]]“What the hell?” I stared at the wall in disbelief. It was a solid wall. Looking at it, I knew that to be true above all else. There shouldn’t have been anything on the other side. Only more wall and a way to the Outlands. But what I had seen was not that. It was a complete tunnel system to a world that was not my own. I didn’t recognize any of it and it certainly did not belong in the Night Market itself. But the gates were closed, were they not? They shouldn’t have been able to open. Milo had reached inside my chest and turned off that little switch. So what was this thing doing here? Malcolm shot passed me as he banged his hand on the now closed wall. His fingers ran across each groove, looking for the seams. There had to be a button. Some sort of mechanism that my back had touched. The rules were arbitrary and made no sense. Because of course my back could touch a wall but it couldn’t touch a person. But as I crouched down near Malcolm as well, I could see nothing. “Damn it, Billows,” Malcolm hissed, smacking at the wall. “How the hell am I to explain this one to Hazel?” Had this been Billows intention all along? To just leave the moment he got a chance? It certainly didn’t seem like him but then again, the mind of a cat was supposed to be a fickle place. Rising, Malcolm rubbed a hand across his face. He placed his hands in his pockets, a move that reminded me so much of Milo, and shook his head to walk away. [[Next|Hazel 4]] Malcolm shot past me as he banged his hand on the now closed wall. His fingers ran across each groove, looking for the seams. There had to be a button. Some sort of mechanism that my back had touched. The rules were arbitrary and made no sense. Because of course my back could touch a wall but it couldn’t touch a person. But as I crouched down near Malcolm as well, I could see nothing. “Damn it, Billows,” Malcolm hissed, smacking at the wall. “How the hell am I to explain this one to Hazel?” Had this been Billows intention all along? To just leave the moment he got a chance? It certainly didn’t seem like him but then again, the mind of a cat was supposed to be a fickle place. Rising, Malcolm rubbed a hand across his face. He placed his hands in his pockets, a move that reminded me so much of Milo, and shook his head to walk away. I stared at where Billows had disappeared, the scent of brimstone still heavy in the air. “Milo won’t let any of us live it down if that cat is actually a demon. Malcolm sighed. “No, he will not. Bastard.” My eyes widened as I turned to look at him. “Malcolm? Malcolm!” But it was as if he didn’t hear me. I wasn’t sure if even he was aware of the words he had spoken. [[Next|Hazel 4]] I was not entirely unconvinced that this cat was not a Baron. Despite me having known all of my Barons, I was starting to wonder if somehow, Billows was just a secret tenth one that we didn’t even speak of. The Baron of all Barons. Malcolm shot passed me as he banged his hand on the now closed wall. His fingers ran across each groove, looking for the seams. There had to be a button. Some sort of mechanism that my back had touched. The rules were arbitrary and made no sense. Because of course my back could touch a wall but it couldn’t touch a person. But as I crouched down near Malcolm as well, I could see nothing. “Damn it, Billows,” Malcolm hissed, smacking at the wall. “How the hell am I to explain this one to Hazel?” Had this been Billows intention all along? To just leave the moment he got a chance? It certainly didn’t seem like him but then again, the mind of a cat was supposed to be a fickle place. Rising, Malcolm rubbed a hand across his face. He placed his hands in his pockets, a move that reminded me so much of Milo, and shook his head to walk away. [[Next|Hazel 4]]“This is hopeless,” I muttered. In the end, I could do nothing. I could affect nothing. I had wandered the world some sort of puppet for my own hands and then I had deflated. In my wake I left pain and heartache and I was not being given the chance to make up for any of it. Why? I didn’t even know. History felt as if it were repeating itself. Just another moment where I looked in, firmly in the position to observe and that was all. I wasn’t meant to be a part of the world I protected. Across the way, Billows looked like he felt something very similar. Whatever it was he had brought Malcolm here to do, was not coming to fruition. It was a sad day when the closest thing I identified to was a cat. “I’m sorry, Bill. I don’t see whatever it is you are trying to tell me.” And Malcolm looked like he had genuinely tried. There weren’t many people in this world who would go out and follow a cat aimlessly through the market. Billows meowed lowly at him, discussing his displeasure. “I can’t do anything with that,” Malcolm intoned. “I wish I could but I got nothing here. And I’m assuming since it's me you got a hold of instead of bringing Hazel, whatever this is, you don’t want her to know about.” I did a small double take. Lucinda. Lucinda Albright was back and living within the Apothecary again. Or at least that was how it looked. And Malcolm wasn’t even batting an eye. Did he even know? Was that what Billows was trying to tell him? Then again, it didn’t make sense to bring Malcolm all the way here if he was. Crouching down in front of Billows, Malcolm sighed. “I’m sorry,” he told him. “If you can figure out another way to tell me, I’d love to help. But I don’t know what you want me to do here.” Hissing, Mr. Billows hopped off the rock and began walking back the way we came. Rising, Malcolm rubbed a hand across his face. He placed his hands in his pockets, a move that reminded me so much of Milo, and shook his head to walk away. [[Next|Hazel 4]] I didn’t get it. Why would Billows even bring us down here to begin with? Other than the upside down building, there was nothing of note. And even the building itself only had the oddity of being suspended midair to boast. The entirety of the little nook we found ourselves in looked like nearly everywhere else within the Night Market. So what was so special about here? “I’m sorry, Bill. I don’t see whatever it is you are trying to tell me.” And Malcolm looked like he had genuinely tried. There weren’t many people in this world who would just go out and follow a cat aimlessly through the market. Billows meowed lowly at him, discussing his displeasure. “I can’t do anything with that,” Malcolm intoned. “I wish I could but I got nothing here. And I’m assuming since it's me you got a hold of instead of bringing Hazel here, whatever this is, you don’t want her to know about it.” I did a small double take. Lucinda. Lucinda Albright was back and living within the Apothecary again. Or at least that was how it looked. And Malcolm wasn’t even batting an eye. Did he even know? Was that what Billows was trying to tell him? Then again, it didn’t make sense to bring Malcolm all the way here if he was. Crouching down in front of Billows, Malcolm sighed. “I’m sorry,” he told him. “If you can figure out another way to tell me, I’d love to help. But I don’t know what you want me to do here.” Hissing, Mr. Billows hopped off the rock and began walking back the way we came. Rising, Malcolm rubbed a hand across his face. He placed his hands in his pockets, a move that reminded me so much of Milo, and shook his head to walk away. [[Next|Hazel 4]] From the second I met her, Hazel had always been too hard on herself. One little mistake and she took it personally. I saw it in the way she reacted to disappointed customers. In the way she fretted if she woke up too late in the morning. And in the simple way she had tirelessly cooked and cleaned and ran the apothecary without a single day off or complain. It didn’t surprise me even in the slightest that she was doing such a thing. Maybe if I was able to come back, I’d be able to convince her to take a rest. We’d all need one after this. “Has your brother come around yet?” the woman asked. Lucinda, if I remembered correctly. The woman's name was Lucinda. “Um, I saw him a few days ago.” Hazel was digging in the dirt again, not quite looking her mother in the eye. “And does he know I’m home?” “Mother, I just don’t think it’s the right time,” she said patiently. “Malcolm is trying to readjust to life again…” “And so am I. I think now is when him and I would need each other more than ever, don’t you think?” I could see on Hazel’s face that she clearly disagreed but she turned to her mother anyway, trying to give her an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he’ll be around soon. I’ll tell him. I promise. Just give it a little bit of time, okay? With everything that has been going on, I think we’re all a little out of sorts.” “I don’t know why you are concerning yourself so much with Milo,” Lucinda said. “It’s not Milo, mother. It’s $name. What happened to ?them is still so new. We’re adjusting.” “Oh, honey,” Lucinda sighed. “I know you are looking at this as a bad thing but the Night Market needed to return home. Walking these streets is not where ?they were meant to be. You do believe me, don’t you?” [[Lucinda had a point]] [[Lucinda was wrong]] [[Wait to see what Hazel says]] Lucinda had a point. The streets of the Night Market were not where I belonged. Thinking about it too hard led to a mass of confusion that didn’t really make sense in any context that I formatted it in. I was walking around on my own body but was not. I was now dead but was not. I was in a liminal space that was the collective of all the thoughts and consciousness of the entire world, but was also not. It was one of those things that didn’t make any sense. Was probably never supposed to be. And in that regard, I knew what Lucinda was talking about. Hazel, didn’t seem to agree, but she always was not one to speak out against her mother. “I… I understand,” she told Lucinda instead. Lucinda clearly did not believe her. Not that Hazel was making a compelling argument. <<if $hazelro == "true">>Hazel, out of all of them, had the softest heart. I had seen her before I had come down. I had watched moments with her in her shop. She was pretty and kind and I thought she would have a kiss that would transform me. I don’t think I had once envisioned her as her own person. Not until I was actually here and too far into my ‘experience’ to be able to back out.<</if>> Lucinda was staring at her daughter, looking at her in such a way that indicated she clearly thought Hazel’s head was in the clouds. “All I am saying,” she said firmly. “Is life cannot stop. No one died, Hazel. Your $name only returned to where ?they belonged.” Standing, Lucinda brushed off her skirts and breathed in the chilly air. “Now, hurry with those carrots please. And bring in more wood when you’re done. I swear, my girl. I’ll have this shop back in order in no time.” Hazel’s head bowed. “Yes, mother.” The world around me tilted as Lucinda walked back inside. Above the wisps tried to shine bright, casting a light down on Hazel so she wasn’t alone. But in the end, that was what Hazel was. And always had been. Alone. [[Next|Hazel 3]] Lucinda was wrong. I belonged within these streets more now than ever. I was a part of a world that was a safe haven for all. I was housing and protecting so much. And yet, I had understood none of it. More than anything, I felt it was important to be here and to know the world I had created. If only to better help the ones that were still here. If I was home, if I was able to actually talk to Hazel, I knew she would agree with me. But in the here and now, she wasn’t about to disagree with Lucinda. It had never been something she was very good at. “I… I understand,” she told Lucinda instead. Lucinda clearly did not believe her. Not that Hazel was making a compelling argument. <<if $hazelro == "true">>Hazel, out of all of them, had the softest heart. I had seen her before I had come down. I had watched moments with her in her shop. She was pretty and kind and I thought she would have a kiss that would transform me. I don’t think I had once envisioned her as her own person. Not until I was actually here and too far into my ‘experience’ to be able to back out.<</if>> Lucinda was staring at her daughter, looking at her in such a way that indicated she clearly thought Hazel’s head was in the clouds. “All I am saying,” she said firmly. “Is life cannot stop. No one died, Hazel. Your $name only returned to where ?they belonged.” Standing, Lucinda brushed off her skirts and breathed in the chilly air. “Now, hurry with those carrots please. And bring in more wood when you’re done. I swear, my girl. I’ll have this shop back in order in no time.” Hazel’s head bowed. “Yes, mother.” The world around me tilted as Lucinda walked back inside. Above the wisps tried to shine bright, casting a light down on Hazel so she wasn’t alone. But in the end, that was what Hazel was. And always had been. Alone. [[Next|Hazel 3]] “You never met ?them,” Hazel said softly. “I know ?they didn’t know the whole picture when ?they were here but I don’t think it was like that. $name actually enjoyed life, mother. It was hard for a while and the things we expected of ?them wasn’t exactly fair but ?they enjoyed their time here. I don’t think what happened at the ball was something ?they wanted.” My heart sank a little. It had been. Once upon a time. When I was an outsider looking down at the world around me. I wanted to experience this thing called life. I wanted to wander the streets with such innocence, viewing the world as if I had never viewed it before. I wanted to be able to walk the streets and learn. Make mistakes. And in the end, I wanted to die. So I could wake up and tell Pen all the things I had discovered. I had viewed my life as nothing more than a tale to experience. The people within in unaffected by my actions or anything I did. Because when I woke, it wouldn’t matter. I didn’t take into consideration the effect I would leave behind. I certainly didn’t think what it would mean for someone else to have fallen in love with me only to survive my demise. <<if $hazelro == "true">>Hazel, out of all of them, had the softest heart. I had seen her before I had come down. I had watched moments with her in her shop. She was pretty and kind and I thought she would have a kiss that would transform me. I don’t think I had once envisioned her as her own person. Not until I was actually here and too far into my ‘experience’ to be able to back out.<</if>> Lucinda was staring at her daughter, looking at her in such a way that indicated she clearly thought Hazel’s head was in the clouds. “All I am saying,” she said firmly. “Is life cannot stop. No one died, Hazel. Your $name only returned to where ?they belonged.” Standing, Lucinda brushed off her skirts and breathed in the chilly air. “Now, hurry with those carrots please. And bring in more wood when you’re done. I swear, my girl. I’ll have this shop back in order in no time.” Hazel’s head bowed. “Yes, mother.” The world around me tilted as Lucinda walked back inside. Above the wisps tried to shine bright, casting a light down on Hazel so she wasn’t alone. But in the end, that was what Hazel was. And always had been. Alone. [[Next|Hazel 3]] “There’s no way you could have known,” I told him. It was an odd feeling really. Malcolm was the Gatekeeper. The one I considered Gatekeeper still, at times. But he had been kept in the dark just like everyone else. It was something that weighed on him. As if he felt personally responsible somehow. Like he should have seen this coming. And maybe he should have given who he used to be. Maybe he should have simply because he was the one who was supposed to know Milo. <<if $miloro == "true">> But even Milo had said that Malcolm wouldn’t know him anymore. That he couldn’t.<</if>> My own thoughts when it came to that moment were still a mixture of the before and after. Of who I had been when I decided to come to the market to play and who I had become when I left. Both were at odds. How I was going to handle the situation of Milo had yet to be determined. Pushing away from the counter, he looked around the room and slowly began cleaning up. The place itself was not messy, but it was disused. Except for the bedroom. As Malcolm passed it, he paused. One of Milo’s shirts lay on the floor, half tucked under the bed. Remnants from when he was staying here. Malcolm just shook his head. What had he said? That Milo was a slob? <<if $miloro == "true">> I had been to the distillery. I couldn’t exactly disagree.<</if>> Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Malcolm pulled the shirt out, holding it within his hands. Anger washed across his face. Pure rage that I had never seen on Malcolm before. “Coward,” he stated. “You couldn’t face it, could you? You couldn’t face maybe being wrong about all this shit.” I tipped my head to the side, stepping into the room and listening. “I could have helped you,” he growled. “If you didn’t trust any of them fine. I get it. But I could have fucking //helped// you. <<if $miloro == "true">> Lamplight would have helped you. As the Gatekeeper, Lamplight should have been the //first// person you went to.<</if>>” [[Go sit by Malcolm]] [[Search the apartment for more signs of Milo]]“You are not responsible for Milo’s choices,” I said firmly. No one was. Milo had acted on his own accord and told no one because he didn’t want to be stopped. To blame someone else, especially someone like Malcolm, felt cruel in a way. No, Milo did this based on his own choice. Just as I had come down here based on mine. My own thoughts when it came to that moment were still a mixture of the before and after. Of who I had been when I decided to come to the market to play and who I had become when I left. Both were at odds. How I was going to handle the situation of Milo had yet to be determined. Pushing away from the counter, he looked around the room and slowly began cleaning up. The place itself was not messy, but it was disused. Except for the bedroom. As Malcolm passed it, he paused. One of Milo’s shirts lay on the floor, half tucked under the bed. Remnants from when he was staying here. Malcolm just shook his head. What had he said? That Milo was a slob? <<if $miloro == "true">> I had been to the distillery. I couldn’t exactly disagree.<</if>> Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Malcolm pulled the shirt out, holding it within his hands. Anger washed across his face. Pure rage that I had never seen on Malcolm before. “Coward,” he stated. “You couldn’t face it, could you? You couldn’t face maybe being wrong about all this shit.” I tipped my head to the side, stepping into the room and listening. “I could have helped you,” he growled. “If you didn’t trust any of them fine. I get it. But I could have fucking //helped// you. <<if $miloro == "true">> Lamplight would have helped you. As the Gatekeeper, Lamplight should have been the //first// person you went to.<</if>>” [[Go sit by Malcolm]] [[Search the apartment for more signs of Milo]]“We were all fooled by him,” I said softly. In the end, it could have fallen to any of us to see the truth. To call him out. To press Milo just a little bit more. But none of us did. I was unsure if it was a matter of Milo being that good at keeping secrets, or all of us just not wanting to see it within him. But then again, I wasn’t supposed to. That wasn’t the point of my existence. Not down within the Night Market, at least. The pain that I was seeing now, how much of it was Milo’s doing and how much of it was my own? My own thoughts when it came to that moment were still a mixture of the before and after. Of who I had been when I decided to come to the market to play and who I had become when I left. Both were at odds. How I was going to handle the situation of Milo had yet to be determined. Pushing away from the counter, he looked around the room and slowly began cleaning up. The place itself was not messy, but it was disused. Except for the bedroom. As Malcolm passed it, he paused. One of Milo’s shirts lay on the floor, half tucked under the bed. Remnants from when he was staying here. Malcolm just shook his head. What had he said? That Milo was a slob? <<if $miloro == "true">> I had been to the distillery. I couldn’t exactly disagree.<</if>> Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Malcolm pulled the shirt out, holding it within his hands. Anger washed across his face. Pure rage that I had never seen on Malcolm before. “Coward,” he stated. “You couldn’t face it, could you? You couldn’t face maybe being wrong about all this shit.” I tipped my head to the side, stepping into the room and listening. “I could have helped you,” he growled. “If you didn’t trust any of them fine. I get it. But I could have fucking //helped// you. <<if $miloro == "true">> Lamplight would have helped you. As the Gatekeeper, Lamplight should have been the //first// person you went to.<</if>>” [[Go sit by Malcolm]] [[Search the apartment for more signs of Milo]] I walked into the room, going to sit by his side. I could hear the anger in his words. The betrayal. I felt them as if they were my own. It was something I hadn’t sat and thought about. Not at length. The betrayal that warred within me. The urge to stab Milo. To understand him. To hug him and tell him it was alright. <<if $miloro == "true">> To scream at him in rage for making me fall for him.<</if>> I felt it all at once. Every warring little bit of personality as anger and sadness and empathy all washed over me. And again, I just shoved them away. Because I wasn’t sure which one could be true. Or even how any of them could be true, given who I was. Malcolm looked as if he felt something similar. Like he had awoken from a long sleep only to find the man that had held him during death, to have changed entirely. I wondered if he had talked to him yet. At any sort of length that is. Or, if Milo had continued to hide. Had Malcolm even tried looking for him. Next to the bed, a small candle was burning. It flickered with the beat of my own heart. Both our gazed turned to it at once. “I wish that was you,” he said sadly. “I wish more than anything that it was you so I could talk.” [[I wish I was there with you]] [[I wish I could help]] [[Pretend it’s me]] I felt every inch of despair in his words. Malcolm was not a man who showed the world his pain. He kept it locked tightly inside, afraid of what someone would do if they saw his inner workings. But I had always been privy o them. More so than anyone else. And as he sat here now, staring desolate at the floor, I wished more than anything I could reach out and touch him. Let him know he was seen. “I wish I was there with you, too,” I whispered. And the question now became, what would I do if I was there. If I was able to sit by his side and take his hand. To tell him that he was not alone. What would I even do because despite my presence, despite me still being very much alive, the lights were still out. The gates were still closed. The world, myself, was still dying. Sighing, I glanced his way. So many things had been left unsaid. Getting back, there was only one thing I vowed. [[I would continue to focus on those in need outside the world]] [[I would put more care into the world of the Night Market]] [[I would have to be a tougher version of me]] “I wish I could help.” It was within my nature. To be the kind of person who took on other's pain and gave them a third option. When the worlds were dying and the people far away cried out in pain, I came to their aid. Yet, at this moment, I couldn’t even help the one person that had been in service to me the most. It felt cruel, in a strange sort of way. Like despite everything he had done for me, it wasn’t enough. Yet this was the man who had protected the market with his life. Who had lost so much to keep me safe. He was the only Gatekeeper I had that looked at the world before him and recognized the change that needed to take place for my survival. And though he had failed, he had tried until I let him lay his head down to sleep. I just wish that I could help him now. That I could be there. Then again, there was no telling if my life would change anything. Still…. If I was alive and actually sitting on the bed next to him, what would I even do? Sighing, I glanced his way. So many things had been left unsaid. Getting back, there was only one thing I vowed. [[I would continue to focus on those in need outside the world]] [[I would put more care into the world of the Night Market]] [[I would have to be a tougher version of me]] “Pretend then,” I whispered. “Pretend it’s like before.” When we would sit under the lights and talk for hours. Maybe we both needed a small sense of normalcy in our lives. An understanding that we could share. Whether he heard me, or he simply understood the sentiment, Malcolm sighed, head hanging between his shoulders. “What’s the point though, right? Of talking it all out. Saying how I feel. It’s not going to change anything. That’s what angers me the most. I can’t change //any// of this. Not what he did. Not your death. Not Hazel’s grief of how people are dying in the streets because the lights are all out. I can’t seem to change the fact that Milo has royally missed the point of what being a Gatekeeper even is. That this damn band-aid solution he has slapped on everything is just that. A band-aid. And…” he trailed off. “I didn’t get to know you, Lamplight. Not the you that walked these streets. Not the one that laughed and danced and sang. Or I’m assuming you did all that. Seems like you can’t get away with not doing that if you live with Hazel.” He sighed, flopping down on the bed. “I really wish I could have gotten to know you. I bet you were great.” [[But you do know me, Malcolm]] [[I don’t even know if that me is real]] [[I wish I could have gotten to know you too]]“But you do know me, Malcolm. You know when I’m sad. When I’m angry. You could always tell when something was wrong with me. Even after you got back, when it was just me, $name and you Mal. You still knew me. You didn’t hesitate, even for a second, to stand up for me. To guide me. To let me speak. That’s more than some of the other people I’ve met.” “But it wasn’t enough,” he said sadly. “I think we’ll always be burdened with a sense of it never being enough.” Laying down next to him, I sighed, curling my knees to my stomach a bit more. Malcolm was still on his back, staring at the ceiling. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. “What do you think we would have talked about?” I asked him. “If we had gotten to know each other.” I heard a deep laugh from my side. “I don’t know, actually. Other than the absolute mess of the world?” He paused. “I think I would have liked to take you to listen to some music with me. It used to be one of my favorite things to do. To just go lose myself somewhere in a dark club. Close my eyes and hear the way the musician crafted a story without words. I could become lost in it for hours.” “That sounds like bliss,” I whispered. “I’d like to think we wouldn’t talk about anything important, really. I’d like to think if we had been given the chance we would have just existed in the same place. Shared our day. The little things that would have made us laugh. I would have told you about the way Old Man Talldri’s foot got stuck in the grate to the sewers again. You would have let me know how you saw more paper ducks within the ponds. That’s what I would have liked to do with you, Lamplight. Just shared a life.” [[It’s not fair that we didn’t get to do that]] [[I think we will still have our day]] [[And where does Milo fit into all this?]]“I don’t even know if that me is real,” I told him. “Maybe the person I am now is the real one and that was just the puppet that walked through the realm. It felt like a puppet at times. Even now, I look back at it all and wonder how it possibly even existed.” “I don’t think you were a puppet,” he whispered to me. “I think it wasn’t the full representation of you. But people change. Life is about change. The person you were yesterday is never the person you are today. If we stayed the same then what would be the point of living?” “It would certainly be an easier life,” I scoffed. “Yeah. Maybe.” Laying down next to him, I sighed, curling my knees to my stomach a bit more. Malcolm was still on his back, staring at the ceiling. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. “What do you think we would have talked about?” I asked him. “If we had gotten to know each other.” I heard a deep laugh from my side. “I don’t know, actually. Other than the absolute mess of the world?” He paused. “I think I would have liked to take you to listen to some music with me. It used to be one of my favorite things to do. To just go lose myself somewhere in a dark club. Close my eyes and hear the way the musician crafted a story without words. I could become lost in it for hours.” “That sounds like bliss,” I whispered. “I’d like to think we wouldn’t talk about anything important, really. I’d like to think if we had been given the chance we would have just existed in the same place. Shared our day. The little things that would have made us laugh. I would have told you about the way Old Man Talldri’s foot got stuck in the grate to the sewers again. You would have let me know how you saw more paper ducks within the ponds. That’s what I would have liked to do with you, Lamplight. Just shared a life.” [[It’s not fair that we didn’t get to do that]] [[I think we will still have our day]] [[And where does Milo fit into all this?]]“I wish I could have gotten to know you too,” I whispered to him. “The human you. Not the Gatekeeper.” Maybe we both didn’t know each other well. We knew each other as the Night Market and Gatekeeper. But not as $name and Mal. I suddenly felt such an ache on not getting the opportunity sooner. Laying down next to him, I sighed, curling my knees to my stomach a bit more. Malcolm was still on his back, staring at the ceiling. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. “What do you think we would have talked about?” I asked him. “If we had gotten to know each other.” I heard a deep laugh from my side. “I don’t know, actually. Other than the absolute mess of the world?” He paused. “I think I would have liked to take you to listen to some music with me. It used to be one of my favorite things to do. To just go lose myself somewhere in a dark club. Close my eyes and hear the way the musician crafted a story without words. I could become lost in it for hours.” “That sounds like bliss,” I whispered. “I’d like to think we wouldn’t talk about anything important, really. I’d like to think if we had been given the chance we would have just existed in the same place. Shared our day. The little things that would have made us laugh. I would have told you about the way Old Man Talldri’s foot got stuck in the grate to the sewers again. You would have let me know how you saw more paper ducks within the ponds. That’s what I would have liked to do with you, Lamplight. Just shared a life.” [[It’s not fair that we didn’t get to do that]] [[I think we will still have our day]] [[And where does Milo fit into all this?]]“It’s not fair,” I said, resentment coloring my tone. “I hate that we didn’t get any of that. You have always been there for me Malcolm. We deserved to have this.” “That’s the funny thing about life. In the end, we deserve nothing.” The bitterness that swept through the room caused my eyes to snap open. But Malcolm wasn’t there. The bed was empty and the candle burnt out. It was nothing more than grey washed walls and loneliness once more. It was what I had felt all my life. The loneliness that came with being something no one else is not. By being loved because you were a creature that had to be. Not because someone wanted to. The ache that was always present in my chest felt like a pulsing knife now. Because as the walls began to fade and the cobblestone alley’s replaced Malcolm’s room, I was once more reminded of just how much I wanted the life I had so recently had. Bad moments and all. But I was also aware of just how much I didn’t fit into that. Around me, the alleys solidified, and I was on the streets once more. It was as if Malcolm had never existed. Or maybe it was me that wasn’t real. [[Next|Malcolm 3]]“I think we will still have our day,” I told him hopefully. “I’m going to get back here. I’m going to make sure we have those conversations. I’m not going to let a few little decisions steal that from us.” “I hope you’re right, Lamplight. More than anything, I hope you’re right.” My eyes snapped open. I was back in the alley, my heart pounding in my chest. Malcolm’s apartment was gone and in its place was the grey washed streets of the fake little market I had constructed for myself. Once again, I was alone. And with nothing else to do, I began to walk once more. [[Next|Malcolm 3]]“And where would Milo have fit into all this? We are forgetting the elephant in the room.” “Are we? Or has he forgotten us?” The bitterness that swept through the room caused my eyes to snap open. But Malcolm wasn’t there. The bed was empty and the candle burnt out. It was nothing more than grey washed walls and loneliness once more. It was what I had felt all my life. The loneliness that came with being something no one else is not. By being loved because you were a creature that had to be. Not because someone wanted to. The ache that was always present in my chest felt like a pulsing knife now. Because as the walls began to fade and the cobblestone alley’s replaced Malcolm’s room, I was once more reminded of just how much I wanted the life I had so recently had. Bad moments and all. But I was also aware of just how much I didn’t fit into that. Around me, the alleys solidified, and I was on the streets once more. It was as if Malcolm had never existed. Or maybe it was me that wasn’t real. [[Next|Malcolm 3]] I left Malcolm to his thoughts. There was a certain part of him that had to be grieving that relationship. Because despite having come back, Milo hadn’t even approached him. <<if $miloro == "true">> The night before he disappeared completely, he had held me. Took care of me. Stayed with me while I slept. I knew now it was a final goodbye. But with Malcolm, there had been nothing.<</if>> I wasn’t sure what I would have done if someone I had loved came back after so long, but I wouldn’t have avoided them. Not after the way they went. I wanted to give Malcolm privacy for that moment because I was almost certain he didn’t get much of it at Hazel’s. Walking into the main room, I tried to run my fingers through the dust. An insane part of me thought that maybe I could leave a message in the dust. $name was here. Nothing moved, however. I wasn’t even a ghost. At least the spirits that I had encountered could speak to the market goers. Could sometimes affect the world. I couldn’t even do that. The only leg up I had on any of them was that I could travel from point a to point b. A large bookshelf stood next to the arched windows, enchanted to let in the sun. A lone desk, tidy and neat tucked right by its side. I saw a few personal effects here and there. Paintings that Malcolm had obviously done. Little bits of charcoal drawings. No Milo though. I wasn’t sure how long he had hung out here but he did a good job making his presence minimum. Except for the tingling at the back of my neck. The hair that stood up on each arm. Something was off. There was something in the room that was mine. Slowly, I turned, looking around the room and trying to rummage through the images that I saw. I knew it was only a memory. But there had to be something more. [[Go through to the small garden seen through the enchanted windows]] [[Go look at the gramophone]] [[Check the cabinet that Malcolm had banged shut]] There was a door that led outside to a desolate little garden surrounded by enchanted windows. Despite the shaft of sun wafting through the glass, the plants were forgotten and dead. Dry husks that had been preserved from ten years prior. For a moment, I wondered why Hazel had never come back here. Then again, getting Hazel to leave the shop had been nearly impossible up until the end. And now, there was no telling what she would be like. Stepping outside onto the hard packed dirt, I sighed. The faint scent of magic was still here. It lingered in every little raised bed and wilted corner. And on a bench, sat Milo. Almost immediately I knew it wasn’t him. His image looked faded. The magic was potent enough here to hold onto a memory, however. And this is the one it had grabbed “I don’t want to do this,” he was whispering. “It’s not fair.” He was talking to someone I couldn’t see. A soft voice in the background that only sounded vaguely familiar. “If you don’t, the market will die.” “Then let it die! This isn’t a choice I should make. $name fits in here. Why is it ?their responsibly to fix everything?” “You know why.” “?They may be part of the market but ?they shouldn’t be responsible for the whole. Why isn’t the bigger body just doing what it’s supposed to?” “You’re assuming it’s not.” Milo put his head in his hands, fingers curling in his hair. “It’s not fair. <<if $miloro == "true">>Why do I always lose the ones I love?<</if>>” “It may not be fair, but this is life. And $name has a responsibility. Stop thinking of it as death and think of it as sending ?them home.” When Milo looked up again, I could see the resentment in his eyes. The way he stared at this person with naked grief. “Fuck you,” he bit out. I never heard what the person said. The image of Milo faded right after. Standing there, I stared at the spot Milo had been, wondering how long ago this conversation had taken place. It must not have been too long before the ball. Maybe when he was staying here. It meant that others in the market knew where he had been. And individuals besides Taliesin knew what he was going to do. Milo hadn’t been acting alone. Turning, I made my way back into Malcolm’s apartment, feeling the world begin to waver. I had traveled too far away and now, the grave and the recesses of my mind were calling me back. I could see Malcolm still in his room, head bowed, Milo’s shirt still in his hand and I could still hear the crackling pop of the gramophone. This time, when the grey liminal space took me, I was ready to go. [[Next|Malcolm 4]] The gramophone popped behind me, the black disc on the record playing skipping. It caught my attention as it rhythmically continued to trip. Like the record itself was at its end. Walking over to it, I went to see if somehow I could manipulate the needle. Starting the music over for Malcolm. But as I reached outwards, there was a small tear in the middle of the disc. It glowed blue and gold and braided together with a soft hue of light. Frowning, I reached out, touching it. I felt the tear against my chest as the key shaped scar I now held glowed bright. Around me, screams erupted, the world going dark as one by one the lanterns began to blink out. And hovering above me, was Milo. His eyes were wide, the freckles on his cheeks standing out against bloodless skin. Hands shaking, his breaths started coming in ragged gasps. I could feel the way his hands still gripped me. Behind us, the ballroom was erupting in terror. I could feel the way Belladonna turned into her monstrous form, rising into the rafters as she tore the goblins limb from limb. Gabriel’s sword slashed through anyone that was in his way while Hazel was desperately looking around for me, trying her hardest to find me and lead me to safety. But she was with Laikin and he was not about to let her come anywhere near the mermaid fountain where I took my last breaths. <<if $miloro == "true">> “$name?” I heard him whisper. Never before had I heard Milo sound so small. The little boy who was constantly lost and wandering was staring at me now, no longer sure of what to do. “No,” he whispered. “No. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Reaching out, he pressed a hand against my chest. The portal he had torn open within me was nothing more than a gaping cavity now. Dull and empty. Milo pressed his hand over it as if he could somehow breathe life back into it. “No,” he choked out. “Come on. No. This wasn’t…. You’re not supposed to–” He looked up as the lights all around us, the lanterns that were me, went out. But I could see it in the way his eyes glowed, lighting up his face in some mimicry of Pan. Never before had he looked more fae. “$name, come on. Disappear. Go back. You can’t just stay here. You got to go back, darlin’. That’s the entire point of this. You got to patch yourself up, okay? You can’t just… fucking hell, $name. You can’t just do this shit. You’re supposed to go back and fucking //live//.” He shook me, dipping his head down low. I could feel how cold and clammy his skin was. How panic and shock began to wrack his body. <</if>> I saw something within him at that moment. Something I hadn’t seen before. Closing his eyes, he shook above me, hands gripping me tight. A pained moan escaped him, a piece of his own soul breaking apart. When he opened his eyes, he was still not calm. But he was resigned. There was a dangerous sense of knowledge that was burning within him, growing brighter and brighter until I felt the heat of it burn against my skin. <<if $miloro == "false">>“I am your Gatekeeper,” he told me. “I pledge my promise to you. I will fix this.”<<elseif $miloro == "true">> “I am your Gatekeeper,” he told me. Leaning down, he hovered above my lips, softly brushing them against my own. “Mabon Ambrosial,” he breathed. “Don’t let me run.”<</if>> My eyes snapped open with a gasp and I was back in Malcolm’s apartment. “Lamplight?” I spun around. Malcolm was standing in the doorway to his room. “You’re here?” “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am! I–” His eyes went wide as he locked them with mine. And I was thrust back into the gray city streets. [[Next|Malcolm 3]] I went over to the cabinet that Malcolm had been standing before. The one he had slammed shut. It sat slightly open, the insides looking dark and bare. Slowly, I pulled it open. Where cups or plates should have been, sat a letter. One scrawled in Milo’s familiar handwriting. <<if $miloro == "false">>//Mal I’m sorry. If you are able to talk to the lights, please tell $name I’m sorry, too. You were always better at that than me. The lights don’t want to talk to me. Love, Milo//<<elseif $miloro == "true">> //Mal I’m sorry. I don’t know what to even say right now. I wanted to do better by ?them. I know you would have wanted me to do better. But I had no choice. I’m not asking for forgiveness but I do want you to know I’m sorry. If you’re able to talk to $name after it all, please tell ?them I love them. I was never able to. And I don’t think ?they’ll be listening to me any time soon. Love, Milo<</if>> I suddenly understood why Malcolm had slammed the cupboard. Milo knew that eventually Mal would be back here. This was his send-off. His little bit of explanation he could leave behind. It was a paltry effort. Sighing, I closed the cupboard as well. Everything had very quickly gotten messed up and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to fix it. Or even if I could. “You’re in a better position to fix it now. At least you have empathy at this point. At least you //feel//.” “I know,” I muttered. “I thought having emotion would make me a better person. I just kept forgetting that I’m not a person though. I never can be.” Rubbing my eyes, I frowned, looking around the room. Who was talking again? But Malcolm’s apartment didn’t greet me. Instead, I was back in the gray washed alley’s. Back in my memories. Back wandering again. With a sigh, I continued walking. [[Next|Malcolm 3]] I leaned my head back, feeling my heart race. I could feel myself weakening. Growing more and more tired the further I walked. But there was more. There was still something I had to see. The Apothecary somehow looked different. Less lived in. Less of a home. The little lantern that was above the door was cracked and lifeless while the darker corners of the room were swarming with shadows. Hazel had spent so much of her time trying to bat them away and now they coated the walls in viney tendrils that dripped with weeping black tears. “Maybe we shouldn’t… I just mean…” It was Hazel’s voice that came through first. I turned, looking towards the small dip in the floor where the sofas were all crammed and the old plank table was normally filled with food. My heart stopped, and the world froze for one prolonged moment. There they sat, just like they had so many times before. Belladonna on the arm of a chair. Gabriel stiff straight on the wood sofa. Hazel across the way, hands resting nervously in her lap and Malcolm, right next to her, head bowed. The only one missing was Milo. His usual stance, leaning against the pillar behind the sofa, was oddly empty. When I sucked in air again, time resumed. “We need to bury ?them,” Malcolm said gently. A tear slipped from Hazel’s eye. That kind and sweet gaze was puffy, swollen nearly shut from tears. Thick swaths of black and green magic coated her hands and her lips were bloodless as if she had been drained. “I don’t accept that,” she said desperately. Tipping her head up towards both Belladonna and Gabriel, she silently begged them for support. “You two can’t possibly agree with this, can you?” Gabriel was unmoving. He stared off to the opposite side of the room, as if he didn’t even realize he was there. And Belladonna? Her clothes were soaked with blood, the smell of brimstone coating her. No longer were her lips tinted red with rogue but instead with the cooling life of others. “Someone say something,” Hazel cried. Belladonna was the one who sighed. “What is it you would like for me to say, Hazel dear? That I relish the idea of putting the dear market into the cold ground? Or that I think ?they will come back without any interference?” “I just want someone to say something,” Hazel protested. “I called you two here to talk about this. $name was important to all of us and yet you two are just sitting here and–” “And you are very welcome for that,” Belladonna snapped. “I have things to do, Albright. This is not one of them.” Malcolm tipped his head up. “Belladonna, I think deciding how to lay $name to rest is far more important than going on a manhunt through the market.” Her lips curled upwards, her fangs on display. “I’m sure you do,” she sneered. I had heard that voice on Belladonna before. The one that said she had spotted her prey and was now on a hunt. “Tell me, did you wait until the body was cold before fucked //him// again?” Malcolm didn’t move but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Watch it, Baron.” “So that’s a yes then.” “Both of you stop!” Hazel shouted. “Just stop. We are here for $name. ?They gave everything for us. The least we can do is discuss how we will be honoring ?them.” “Shoving them in the ground sounds great,” Belladonna said, standing. “Sit down, Bella.” It was the first moment Gabriel had spoken. His voice gravel deep and bleeding. Belladonna didn’t listen to his command. Not that she ever had. But she didn’t storm from the shop like I assumed she would have. Malcolm was taking deep and even breaths. “I think we need to bury ?them. They are a portion of the Night Market. Returning them to their own self is the right thing to do.” “I’m not going to bury ?them for ?them to just wake up inside a coffin,” Hazel started desperately. “This is assuming that $name will even have the ability to come back,” Belladonna said. “Of course ?they will. $name is the literal Night Market. Where else would ?they wish to be but here?” There was silence that roamed through the room. An unsettling question beginning to take form. Would I even want to come back? The answer to me was of course I wanted to but… but could I? [[Try to speak to Gabriel]] [[Try to speak to Hazel]] [[Try to speak to Belladonna]] [[Try to speak to Malcolm]] Closing my eyes, I chose none of them. Because the path to choose was always going to be the one that couldn’t be seen. The ones presented before me were of course the ones that I was meant to go down. Not the ones that I truly needed to be on. Turning, I walked forward, my eyes still shut, feeling myself slip through the walls and to somewhere else entirely. When I opened my eyes again, I stood within a room vaguely familiar to me. The room was chilly, the temperature dropping to near freezing levels. When the door opened a deep plum flame bloomed in the hearth, with barely a burst of heat to show for it. Belladonna came walking in, deep lines of anger etched across her face. She began pacing the room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Looking around, I realized I was in her room. The very one I had spent some of my final moments in. With her and Gabriel on the couch. Nothing much had changed. Yet, the small amount of tentative peace we had begun to wrap ourselves up in, the agreement that life might be better spent together, felt like something forgotten now. A knock came on the door moments later and Belladonna turned towards it sharply. A man ducked through the door, looking up at her with fearful eyes. She paused, the room going deathly. “He’s not coming,” she said flatly. “No, mistress.” I could see the way her nostrils flared. The man before her looking as if it was taking everything in him not to run from the room. “Did he give a reason as to why?” “He said he was busy, mistress. With work.” A hiss echoed through the room as Belladonna was suddenly before the man, wrapping a hand around his throat and pinning him to the wall. I watched fangs elongate as she ran her nose along the line of his neck. The man didn’t dare move. But I could see the way his hands shook. “I told you,” she said. “I told you that you would be personally responsible if he did not show tonight. And still you come alone?” “Mistress, please. I tried. I told him what you would do to me. He didn’t care. He said that it was within your right and he had no jurisdiction over vampires.” Belladonna’s eyes flashed blood-red as she shoved him away. The man fell to the floor in a heap, not daring to look at her. “Go before I change my mind,” she ordered. He scrambled out of the room immediately. Bella stood there for a very long moment. Her entire body stone still, her breath ceasing in her chest. Moments later when she screamed, it shattered the vases along the mantle and shot the books from the walls. I winced, holding my hands over my ears and listening to her agony press through the room. Then it was gone, and she was out the door. [[Follow Belladonna to see Gabriel]] [[Try to get to Gabriel before she does]] I raced to follow Belladonna out of the room, willing myself to be able to keep up with her without the liminal space pulling me away. She marched down the streets though, out into the dark market. I could smell ambrosia through the air and heard the moans of the pleasure echoing around me. I saw a few people begin walking towards Belladonna, as if to say hi, but she shot them a blood-red glare and they disappeared into the dark. “Oh, you want to play this game with me, pet?” she hissed under her breath. “We’ll play this game. You do not ignore me. Absolutely not. Idiot.” Gabriel was in for it. I had never seen Belladonna disheveled with anger. Even when she killed Kavatti, she looked as if she was under control of herself. Her emotions never got the best of her. But with Gabriel’s clear dismissal, it was apparently not the same. [[Try to send calming thoughts to Belladonna]] [[Gabriel deserves her wrath if he is ignoring her]] I tried to send calming thought’s Belladonna’s way. While Gabriel could be hard-headed, now was not the time that he needed her wrath. With me gone, I wanted them to lean on each other. Neither of them were great at opening up about their feelings. I was worried about the two of them when left to their own devices. Would they even know how to talk to each other without it turning into the bitch fest that it had been before? I watched as Belladonna’s steps started to slow, her shoulders not as high around her ears as they had been before. She stopped, taking a moment to breathe in the dark. The red drained from her eyes and they turned melted gold once more. She looked around the empty alley, searching for something, her hands coming up to run against her arms. When she started walking towards the sea once more, it was with far more even and controlled steps. [[Next|gbpoly 2]] <<set $bellacalm to "true">> She arrived at the cliff at the edge of the beach, looking across the white stone bridge that lead to the cave that housed not only Gabriel’s office but the prisoners of the market. It was where I had begun. Tossed into those cells because I didn’t have the proper papers. It seemed so odd to be standing here now, watching the way Belladonna’s leather clad thighs shone in the large melting candles. The heat that poured off of them made the surrounding air muggy and thick. Combined with the salt of the sea, it was almost uncomfortable to breathe. Squaring her shoulders, Belladonna walked across the bridge and inside the rocky cave that was the Velvet Guard's domain. She didn’t give the desk clerk a second glance. As the woman tried to protest, Belladonna just flicked her wrist. The door to the cells flung open and she walked right through without a word. I watched as Sol just stared after her with an open mouth. Most likely realizing who had just waltzed through the door. Outside of Gabriel’s office, Belladonna barely gave a pause. Just enough to smooth her already perfect hair. She pushed inside without a knock, revealing Gabriel strapping his sword to his hip. <<if $bellacalm == "false">> “No. Absolutely not. You are taking the evening off or else I will kill everyone that steps in our way.” Gabriel barely glanced at her. “Ms. Malady.” “Ms. Malady my ass, Gabriel. You are to be by my side tonight. It has been too long.” “I have work.” “So do I. Yet, I managed to set it aside. For you.” She crossed her arms in front of her, very solidly forming a wall in front of the only exit Gabriel had. <<elseif $bellacalm == "true">> “I thought we agreed to an evening off,” she said, her voice remaining calm. “Something came up.” “Care to explain?” He glanced up at her. “No. Not particularly. Especially since I know you will not care.” I watched her bristle again and sent another wave of calm towards her. She would need it if Gabriel was in this kind of mood. “I took the night off for you. You said you would do the same. We were supposed to be reconnecting.”<</if>> “We can reschedule,” he said, buttoning his cape just under his chin. Upon closer look, I could see the way the skin beneath his eyes were purple and bruised. Had he even slept? “No. The point of scheduling this was so we didn’t keep rescheduling. You are coming home with me, Gabriel. You will be eating. We will be having some sort of conversation and it will be pleasant. I’m not allowing it to go any other way.” “And yet,” he said, “I have patrol.” “What patrol could you possibly even have?” she snapped. “The streets are not about to get any safer, Gabriel. Are you planning on stopping your life on the off chance that tonight is the night something will change?” “If I must.” He moved to step by her, but she quickly put her black to the door. [[Don’t you dare let him by, Bella]] [[Just let him go. Let him come to you]] [[This isn’t what I wanted for you two]] “Don’t you dare let him go, Bella,” I demanded. If Gabriel walked out that door he was just going to be stubborn and not come to her for days. Given the way he looked, I didn’t know how long he would last out there. While Belladonna looked stressed, Gabriel looked as if he was about to collapse. “You are not leaving,” she said firmly. “If I have to knock you out and drag you home myself, I will.” I didn’t doubt that she would. “Don’t you have more important things to do?” Gabriel asked, anger biting through his tone. “You are the only thing on my agenda today, pet. So, please be a good little Warden and follow me home. Now.” Gabriel’s fingers flexed upon his sword, one nail gliding across the silver that shot through the blade. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But we patrol along the way.” “Fine,” she snapped back. [[Next|gb poly gabriels scene]]“Just let him go, Bella,” I said sadly. “Let Gabriel come to you.” Gabriel was not a man that faced himself in the mirror often. While Belladonna loved forcing that exposure. They were fire and ice and the more she pushed, the more he was going to walk away from her. I could see it on both their faces. The stress of the last few months. The absolute toll it had taken on all of them. When Belladonna stepped aside, I was surprised. I didn’t think it was possible for her to see reason like that. To concede. Yet, she nodded her head, gesturing towards the open door. “You know where to find me, Gabriel. When the time comes.” Even Gabriel stared at her like he didn’t quite believe was it was she had just said. Yet, in the end, Gabriel was always going to drown himself in work. So it was no surprise that he didn’t meet her in the middle and instead pushed by him. While Belladonna did not watch him go, I did. “He’ll be back,” I whispered to her, despite her not being able to see me. [[Next|gb bella scene]]“This isn’t what ?they wanted for us,” Belladonna said. They were the very words I was going to say and yet they came from Belladonna’s mouth. I lifted my hand, touching my lips as if I somehow mistook my voice for hers. But Belladonna was just staring at him, challenging him to speak out against her. “If you speak of $name, I do not think it cooth to pretend you know what ?they wished for us.” Belladonna raised a brow to him. “Oh, you don’t? Well, I don’t think it cooth for you to ignore everything we began to speak of before the ball. What? Did you only want us all together? Was I a consolation prize?” “I don’t even know what it is we were entering into,” he snapped at her. “So don’t pretend like I have betrayed you.” “You know exactly what we were speaking of that night, Gabriel. We made it quite clear. And now, with everything that has happened, you have barely even seen me.” “I’ve been busy.” “So have I.” “Then you understand.” “What I understand is that now, more than ever, we need each other. And yet you keep pulling away. Why?” He had no answer. As he stood before her, his grey eyes flicking with a piercing grey light, he didn’t speak to her at all. The stand-off that the two of them face with each other reminded me of much more uncomfortable days. But this time, there was an unspoken current of grief that should have been shared but was only driving them further and further apart. “Fine,” Belladonna said evenly. “You’ve made your choice then.” “I’ve made my choice.” She nodded. “Goodbye, Gabriel.” “Ms. Malady.” He didn’t wait for her to leave his office. Instead, he shoved his way out the door. Belladonna stood there for a moment longer, looking around the room as if she were searching for what had all gone wrong. “I tried, dear heart,” she whispered. “$name, I did try.” I smiled at her softly. “I know,” I whispered. [[Next|gb bella scene]] I ran to ahead. Belladonna’s rampage could be felt through the market itself. I couldn’t let Gabriel face her alone. Despite not being there, there was a certain amount of comfort I could maybe give him. Or, at the very least, I could perhaps be a barrier. Now to just figure out how. I found Gabriel slumped over his desk. His eyes were half lidded and he looked as if he was half asleep. His shard of grace sat loose in his upturned palm. It looked dull and lifeless against his skin. Like it had broken somehow. “Oh, this is not how she should find you,” I said. “Who?” he asked. He could still see me. It was not just relational to my grave. “Belladonna,” I told him, trying to keep my voice even. Afraid he would start yelling at me once again. “She is on her way.” “I know,” he said sadly. Not moving. “Gabriel, you…” I didn’t know what I should say. His lips were barely moving. His eyes were fixed on the empty chair across from him. I wanted to reach out. Wrap my arms around him. But I was so afraid he would bolt the moment I need. We were balancing on a tightrope and a single wrong move would force us both to fall. A light on his desk burned bright red, catching his gaze. Slowly, Gabriel stood, wiping the sleep from his eyes and putting his coat on. “Leave,” he said, without looking at me. “I do not have the will to deal with you today, demon.” “Gabriel, I’m not a demon,” I said desperately. My words got cut off as the door banged open, Belladonna storming inside. She took one look at the way he began buckling his sword to his waist and slammed the door shut behind her. <<if $bellacalm == "false">> “No. Absolutely not. You are taking the evening off or else I will kill everyone that steps in our way.” Gabriel barely glanced at her. “Ms. Malady.” “Ms. Malady my ass, Gabriel. You are to be by my side tonight. It has been too long.” “I have work.” “So do I. Yet, I managed to set it aside. For you.” She crossed her arms in front of her, very solidly forming a wall in front of the only exit Gabriel had. <<elseif $bellacalm == "true">> “I thought we agreed to an evening off,” she said, her voice remaining calm. “Something came up.” “Care to explain?” He glanced up at her. “No. Not particularly. Especially since I know you will not care.” I watched her bristle again and sent another wave of calm towards her. She would need it if Gabriel was in this kind of mood. “I took the night off for you. You said you would do the same. We were supposed to be reconnecting.”<</if>> “We can reschedule,” he said, buttoning his cape just under his chin. Upon closer look, I could see the way the skin beneath his eyes were purple and bruised. Had he even slept? “No. The point of scheduling this was so we didn’t keep rescheduling. You are coming home with me, Gabriel. You will be eating. We will be having some sort of conversation and it will be pleasant. I’m not allowing it to go any other way.” “And yet,” he said, “I have patrol.” “What patrol could you possibly even have?” she snapped. “The streets are not about to get any safer, Gabriel. Are you planning on stopping your life on the off chance that tonight is the night something will change?” “If I must.” He moved to step by her, but she quickly put her black to the door. [[Don’t you dare let him by, Bella]] [[Just let him go. Let him come to you]] [[This isn’t what I wanted for you two]] Gabriel was a hard-headed man through and through. It surprised me very little that he was being this way now. Especially with Belladonna. They were oil and water trying their hardest to mix half the time. But the oil was actually gasoline and the water was some festering version of a match who would ignite when they got overwhelmed. Either way, if he was ignoring her after everything that happened, Belladonna had every right to be angry and let him feel her wrath. [[Next|gbpoly 2]] <<set $bellacalm to "false">> Before I could do anything else, the ground opened up beneath me. I fell before I could catch myself. I could feel the ground open up beneath me as I fell far down, the world spinning by. I reached for something, anything to keep me afloat but instead, I hit a soft bed made of silk. The scent of roses and old violets filling the air. A moan echoed softly from the corner of the room, followed by a soft sucking sound. As my fingers reached out, I felt the lines of the bed beneath me. I was tucked in, my body naked beneath deep plum silks. “Deeper.” I startled. Belladonna’s deep and husky voice sounded from right beside me. She lounged on top of the sheets, crisscrossing black leather binding across her breasts and midsection with only a dark slipped of spiked leather covering her wet curls. My eyes followed her line of sight. Near the fireplace an individual laid, their eyes glassy and lips parted. A vampire laid across them, lips attached to their neck, blood dribbling down their skin while another lounged behind the human, holding them gently. And the individual? The resemblance was a stark likeness to me. There was no missing it. The vampire pulled away, looking up at Belladonna. “Are you sure, my lady?” she asked. She had fiery red hair and an angular face. The man laying silently by their side had dark skin that flexed beautiful in the light of the fire. He was whispering in against the kiss bitten skin of the ‘client’ he held. “Deeper,” Belladonna said. The vampire dipped her head back down and the lookalike arched in bliss. I turned my gaze back to Bella, watching the way her chest rose and fell as her eyes traced the lines of the undulating bodies on the settee. Hands were wandering much lower than I could see from my position and Belladonna eagerly followed each caress. “Are you sure you would not like a taste, mistress?” the man said, mumbling as he trailed his lips up the neck of the writhing body between them. “The contract said others would be a welcome inclusion. We would be honored to have you.” “Stop talking,” Belladonna said. “I am not here to listen to you. I am here to watch and make sure you are worth the price you are charging others.” His head dipped back down. “Yes, ma’am.” [[Watch Belladonna]] [[Watch the three individuals on the setee]] [[Try to touch Bella]] My eyes were only for Belladonna. I didn’t care about whoever was on the settee. I wanted to drink her in. Watch each way her eyes greedily looked on. The tick of her lips. What made her squirm. But she only looked sad. The curve of her abdomen was concave. Her skin still polished marble but just not as smooth. And her eyes were dull. She was a woman who had gotten everything she had wanted and in one night, had lost so much as well. “Oh, Bella,” I whispered. She dipped her head downwards, sucking in a sharp breath and digging her nails into her palms. Slowly, she rose. No one else noticed the way she moved slower than usual. Or the way her head hung. Taking her robe, she wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her hair out from the collar and letting it tumble down her back. “Clean up when you’re done, my darling,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady,” the vampire woman said, licking her lips. “Please, it would honor us if you continued to watch. Perhaps afterward, you could sip from me and enjoy such pleasure as well?” “Yes, my lady. Let us take care of you,” the man stated. There was no light behind Belladonna’s eyes as she stared at them, but the smile was just as sultry and welcoming on her face as it had ever been. “Not tonight, my darlings. But please. Enjoy yourself.” She turned, walking out the door. “Someone should.” And around me, the room went dark. [[Next|gb poly 3]] The sucking nose was distracting, garnering my attention towards the writhing bodies near the fire. They twined together elegantly, rising and falling in a rhythm that mimicked something far more intimate. The likeness the three of them had to Belladonna, Gabriel and I was no doubt intentional. Especially with the way that Belladonna was staring at the three of them. The rooms was hers though. It was Bella’s chamber back behind the Pleasure District where she had initially taken me for tea. The lights were burning low and flickering through the room casting suggestive shadows. Behind me, I heard the shift of silk sheets as Belladonna rose from the bed. I watched as her hips swayed across the room, the ample curve of her rear on full display. I swallowed hungrily at the sight of it. What I wouldn’t give to be in the room with her now. Taking her robe, she wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her hair out from the collar and letting it tumble down her back. “Clean up when you’re done, my darling,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady,” the vampire woman said, licking her lips. “Please, it would honor us if you continued to watch. Perhaps afterward, you could sip from me and enjoy such pleasure as well?” “Yes, my lady. Let us take care of you,” the man stated. There was no light behind Belladonna’s eyes as she stared at them, but the smile was just as sultry and welcoming on her face as it had ever been. “Not tonight, my darlings. But please. Enjoy yourself.” She turned, walking out the door. “Someone should.” And around me, the room went dark. [[Next|gb poly 3]] I went to touch her. To do the very thing she would have never let me do while alive. But somehow, even in death, she rolled away. “I’m done with you.” Grabbing her silk robe, she crossed her arms, looking at the settee with a small amount of disgust. “Leave and take this elsewhere.” The vampire woman blinked. “I don’t think the client can move at the moment.” It was like staring at my own face. Seeing hollow eyes that were blissed out and far far away. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to stand after such a session. The bite marks and blood that marked the expanse of supple skin before me left me wondering if I would have even been alive in such a state. Belladonna did not care. Stepping forward, she grabbed the vampire by the back of her hair, arching her head backwards. “Did I not make myself clear?” The woman hissed, trying to get their feet beneath them. “Mistress, I’m sorry. Please. It was a mistake. We will leave. I promise. We will–” The man was rising, shifting the clients body from his lap and staring at Belladonna with fear as his partner was writhing in her grasp. Belladonna threw her across the room, the vampire hitting the far wall and cracking the plaster. She lay in a naked heap on the ground. Belladonna looked at her with little care. “I’m going for a walk. Be gone before I get back lest I use you as a display piece in the main lobby.” The door slammed as Belladonna left. [[Next|gb poly 3]] Turning, I found myself on the other side of the door, standing next to Belladonna. And staring at Gabriel. She tightened her robe, looking at him with clear irritation. “What are you doing here?” He looked out of place within this little den of inequity. Standing before the two of us in his warden regalia. The air around us grew thick with tension and I was almost certain they were going to start again. Because even with losing me, they couldn’t set aside their differences. But, Gabriel surprised me. In three steady steps he walked over to her, wrapping her in his arms. Belladonna was tense for a long moment, staring numbly over his shoulder. But Gabriel wouldn’t let her go. I saw the moment her shoulders sagged. The moment he was the only thing holding her up. “I miss ?them,” she said, a small hitch to her voice. He locked eyes with me over her shoulder. “I miss ?them, too.” My heart caught in my throat, and the world went black. [[Next|gbpoly 4]] I leaned against the alley wall, staring up at the desolate gray sky. The lanterns were never lit here. They never had been. As if the warmth that encapsulated human life was not obtainable in such a place. Swallowing, I wiped a hand across my face. I had to get back to them. I could stand to hear that in Belladonna’s tone. I wanted to show up at her door and tell her that everything was going to be alright. To lay with her and Gabriel and feel the way that life pumped through them both. But I still had more to see. I could feel it like an itch at the back of my skull. Feeling tired and weak, I pushed off the wall. And like all the times before, I just kept walking. [[Next|The Apothecary]] A cry cut through the dark. It was wet and pleading and coated in raw pain. “While I’m all for violence, my pet, you usually aren’t.” “What do you care?” A crack of bone echoed so loudly in my ears that I felt myself wince. A sharp scream careened through the wet and sandy shore. Belladonna stood in front of me. She wore a long sheer nightdress that looked completely out of place on the desolate beach. The waves crashing loudly in the background. Gabriel, on the other hand, loomed over a man, his boot on their throat. “I care very little about him,” she said. “It’s your morality that I’m a little bit confused about at the moment. Kill the man if you think it will help you but you really should just let me do it. We wouldn’t want those pristine hands to get too dirty.” “I’m doing this,” Gabriel snapped. Belladonna rolled her eyes, putting her hands in the air. “Fine. Have all the fun.” The man beneath Gabriel was beaten and barely conscious. I doubted Gabriel’s boot even needed to stay there. “One more time,” Gabriel said. “Where is he?” The man coughed as Gabriel’s boot jostled him. “I don’t know,” he gurgled. Crouching, the singing sound of metal as it was pulled from its sheath, crashed along with the waves just beyond. “This isn’t a negotiation where I ask a question, you deny it, and then I ask again. You only have this one chance.” The man arched up, eyes hardened. “You really think I know where he is? Fucking little squirly kid isn’t even on my radar.” “Not what our contacts told us,” he hissed. Belladonna cleared her throat, gaining their attention. “Three nights ago you were seen with him. You might as well just confess. I can smell lies. And even if the Warden here chickens out on killing you, I am feeling rather hungry at the moment.” “She hasn’t ate all day,” Gabriel confirmed. “So, this is the last chance you get. Where is Milo Next?” Gabriel’s entire being lit with a silver fire, black veins running across him in a scream. The man’s jaw twitched. “I don’t know.” [[Turn away|gbpoly turn away]] [[Watch the man die|gbpoly watch]] I turned away, averting my eyes. I didn’t want to see what Gabriel would do. I didn’t want to see what he could become. But I heard it all the same. I heard the moment that man's life left his body. The strangled breath that escaped him. Belladonna looked irritated but not all that concerned about the death she had just witnessed. That man had never stood a chance tonight. Turning, Gabriel stormed back towards her, fury etched across his face. “I thought you said he would know where Next was. I thought you said you had seen the two of them.” “He did,” she said crossly. “But the art of torture is called art for a reason, Warden. You don’t just demand things of your informants and expect them to cave because you have a brooding brow. You played our hand far too quickly. Next time, you will be letting me take care of this kind of thing or else I won’t bring you along.” “You dare do any of this without me, I will find you in contempt of the market and arrest you,” he said without reason. “I’m a Baron, sweetheart. Try me.” With a snarl, Gabriel turned and walked away, storming halfway down the street. Around me, the world faded away. [[Next|gbpoly 5]] Gabriel wasn’t going to kill him. He was a celestial. He was the Warden of the entire market. He upheld the law to a fault at times. But I watched him stand, looking nonchalantly out at sea before taking his boot and bringing it down on the guy's neck. With a snap, the man perished. “Damn it, Gabriel,” Belladonna hissed. “We could have gotten him to talk far more.” Sheathing his sword, Gabriel picked up the body, dragging it towards the ocean and tossing it to the Deep. The waves tumbled over the corpse, taking him out where no one would be able to reach him. Belladonna looked irritated but not all that concerned about the death she had just witnessed. That man had never stood a chance tonight. Turning, Gabriel stormed back towards her, fury etched across his face. “I thought you said he would know where Next was. I thought you said you had seen the two of them.” “He did,” she said crossly. “But the art of torture is called art for a reason, Warden. You don’t just demand things of your informants and expect them to cave because you have a brooding brow. You played our hand far too quickly. Next time, you will be letting me take care of this kind of thing or else I won’t bring you along.” “You dare do any of this without me, I will find you in contempt of the market and arrest you,” he said without reason. “I’m a Baron, sweetheart. Try me.” With a snarl, Gabriel turned and walked away, storming halfway down the street. Around me, the world faded away. [[Next|gbpoly 5]] Not able to just stand by, I walked towards Gabriel, sitting by his side. <<if $gabrielgrave == "true">> His gaze did not tick towards me like it had before. Not here, at least. No spitting accusations of being a demon or unclean being hurled my way<</if>> This was a memory. Something playing out from before. “Gabriel,” I started. “It’s okay. Bury me.” But the moment I said it, I realized that they already did. Whatever I was experiencing today was nothing more than a memory. Something that had happened not long after they had retrieved me. “I just don’t understand,” Hazel was saying. “Milo wouldn’t do this.” “Wouldn’t he?” Belladonna laughed bitterly. “Face it. Your Milo fucked all of us and did it gleefully. He lured $name to that ball and then killed ?them in cold blood.” “No,” Hazel cried. “No, he wouldn’t…” Belladonna leaned forward. “He did. I watched from the door. I saw it happen. He opened a gate in ?their chest and let Hynsin crawl in. $name’s light went out the second that the lanterns did. And if that is not enough proof, why did he run?” she asked, the question curling around her tongue like a hiss. “If Milo was so innocent, why did he run, leaving $name’s body in the incursion after.” Hazel didn’t answer, tears slipping down her face as a sob was torn from her throat. One bloody long nail tipped Hazel’s chin up. “Stop being so fucking naive, Hazel dear. Weakness is not attractive.” “Get the fuck away from my sister,” Malcolm snapped. Belladonna tightened her grip on Hazel’s chin, the young witch crying out, before being shoved away. “Do you know where he is?” Gabriel asked, voice still devoid of emotion. Malcolm scooted towards his sister, wrapping an arm around her. “Why does it matter, Warden?” “Given his actions, I will be arresting him.” “He’s a Baron,” Malcolm pointed out. “By the laws that you support, you cannot.” “Ask me if I care,” he stated. I could see it then. The way that Gabriel’s eyes turned cold. I had thought him a cold and less than empathetic man before. But this was far worse. Small fissures appeared in his skin, marking up the side of his neck and towards the stubble on his jaw. Malcolm rose from his seat. “Listen, last night was not what any of us expected. And I am not defending Milo. But I don’t know if we still understand what is going on.” “Of course you’ll defend him,” Belladonna laughed. <<if $miloro == "true">> “$name is out of the way for you now.” “You know that was never a factor.” “Clearly not.”<</if>> Her eyes flashed red. “Tell me, Malcolm. Were you in on this? Did you know what your ex would be doing?” “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” “Oh, I believe you should before I rip your tongue from your throat and feed it to you, Gatekeeper.” “Stop,” Hazel yelled as Malcolm and Belladonna advanced on each other. Around us, the candles rose to thick green flame and a pulse went through the room. “We are not doing this. If we cannot sit here and speak of $name kindly then we should not be sitting and speaking with each other at all.” The evocation of my name was somewhat sobering. Hazel had a way about her when she wanted everyone's attention. The ability to weave commands within single words. Looking at her now, I could see the magic crackling at her fingertips. How the shadows curled from her sight. [[Next|Chapter one 4]] Not able to just stand by, I walked towards Hazel, sitting by his side. I could feel her shaking. Her hands were tinged green and black and the scent of magic was thick in the air. I remembered that smell now. The way it had lingered in the apothecary lobby early in the morning. I had assumed it was just the potions. I now knew better. “Hazel,” I started. “It’s okay. Bury me.” But the moment I said it, I realized that they already did. Whatever I was experiencing today was nothing more than a memory. Something that had happened not long after they had retrieved me. “I just don’t understand,” Hazel was saying. “Milo wouldn’t do this.” “Wouldn’t he?” Belladonna laughed bitterly. “Face it. Your Milo fucked all of us and did it gleefully. He lured $name to that ball and then killed ?them in cold blood.” “No,” Hazel cried. “No, he wouldn’t…” Belladonna leaned forward. “He did. I watched from the door. I saw it happen. He opened a gate in ?their chest and let Hynsin crawl in. $name’s light went out the second that the lanterns did. And if that is not enough proof, why did he run?” she asked, the question curling around her tongue like a hiss. “If Milo was so innocent, why did he run, leaving $name’s body in the incursion after.” Hazel didn’t answer, tears slipping down her face as a sob was torn from her throat. One bloody long nail tipped Hazel’s chin up. “Stop being so fucking naive, Hazel dear. Weakness is not attractive.” “Get the fuck away from my sister,” Malcolm snapped. Belladonna tightened her grip on Hazel’s chin, the young witch crying out, before being shoved away. “Do you know where he is?” Gabriel asked, voice still devoid of emotion. Malcolm scooted towards his sister, wrapping an arm around her. “Why does it matter, Warden?” “Given his actions, I will be arresting him.” “He’s a Baron,” Malcolm pointed out. “By the laws that you support, you cannot.” “Ask me if I care,” he stated. I could see it then. The way that Gabriel’s eyes turned cold. I had thought him a cold and less than empathetic man before. But this was far worse. Small fissures appeared in his skin, marking up the side of his neck and towards the stubble on his jaw. Malcolm rose from his seat. “Listen, last night was not what any of us expected. And I am not defending Milo. But I don’t know if we still understand what is going on.” “Of course you’ll defend him,” Belladonna laughed. <<if $miloro == "true">> “$name is out of the way for you now.” “You know that was never a factor.” “Clearly not.”<</if>> Her eyes flashed red. “Tell me, Malcolm. Were you in on this? Did you know what your ex would be doing?” “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” “Oh, I believe you should before I rip your tongue from your throat and feed it to you, Gatekeeper.” “Stop,” Hazel yelled as Malcolm and Belladonna advanced on each other. Around us, the candles rose to thick green flame and a pulse went through the room. “We are not doing this. If we cannot sit here and speak of $name kindly then we should not be sitting and speaking with each other at all.” The evocation of my name was somewhat sobering. Hazel had a way about her when she wanted everyone's attention. The ability to weave commands within single words. Looking at her now, I could see the magic crackling at her fingertips. How the shadows curled from her sight. [[Next|Chapter one 4]] Not able to just stand by, I walked towards Belladonna, standing by his side. I noticed something odd about her, the closer I got. While her skin was warm with blood, something that only happened after she fed, she was hiding something. Thin cuts that had not healed could be seen beneath the lace. “Belladonna, what happened?” I asked. Those assassination attempts that were piling up before I left suddenly became all the more real. “We need to decide,” Malcolm said from across the room. I sighed. Right. My burial. “Just bury me,” I told Bella. “It’s okay.” But the moment I said it, I realized that they already did. Whatever I was experiencing today was nothing more than a memory. Something that had happened not long after they had retrieved me. “I just don’t understand,” Hazel was saying. “Milo wouldn’t do this.” “Wouldn’t he?” Belladonna laughed bitterly. “Face it. Your Milo fucked all of us and did it gleefully. He lured $name to that ball and then killed ?them in cold blood.” “No,” Hazel cried. “No, he wouldn’t…” Belladonna leaned forward. “He did. I watched from the door. I saw it happen. He opened a gate in ?their chest and let Hynsin crawl in. $name’s light went out the second that the lanterns did. And if that is not enough proof, why did he run?” she asked, the question curling around her tongue like a hiss. “If Milo was so innocent, why did he run, leaving $name’s body in the incursion after.” Hazel didn’t answer, tears slipping down her face as a sob was torn from her throat. One bloody long nail tipped Hazel’s chin up. “Stop being so fucking naive, Hazel dear. Weakness is not attractive.” “Get the fuck away from my sister,” Malcolm snapped. Belladonna tightened her grip on Hazel’s chin, the young witch crying out, before being shoved away. “Do you know where he is?” Gabriel asked, voice still devoid of emotion. Malcolm scooted towards his sister, wrapping an arm around her. “Why does it matter, Warden?” “Given his actions, I will be arresting him.” “He’s a Baron,” Malcolm pointed out. “By the laws that you support, you cannot.” “Ask me if I care,” he stated. I could see it then. The way that Gabriel’s eyes turned cold. I had thought him a cold and less than empathetic man before. But this was far worse. Small fissures appeared in his skin, marking up the side of his neck and towards the stubble on his jaw. Malcolm rose from his seat. “Listen, last night was not what any of us expected. And I am not defending Milo. But I don’t know if we still understand what is going on.” “Of course you’ll defend him,” Belladonna laughed. <<if $miloro == "true">> “$name is out of the way for you now.” “You know that was never a factor.” “Clearly not.”<</if>> Her eyes flashed red. “Tell me, Malcolm. Were you in on this? Did you know what your ex would be doing?” “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” “Oh, I believe you should before I rip your tongue from your throat and feed it to you, Gatekeeper.” “Stop,” Hazel yelled as Malcolm and Belladonna advanced on each other. Around us, the candles rose to thick green flame and a pulse went through the room. “We are not doing this. If we cannot sit here and speak of $name kindly then we should not be sitting and speaking with each other at all.” The evocation of my name was somewhat sobering. Hazel had a way about her when she wanted everyone's attention. The ability to weave commands within single words. Looking at her now, I could see the magic crackling at her fingertips. How the shadows curled from her sight. [[Next|Chapter one 4]] Not able to just stand by, I walked towards Malcolm, sitting by his side. There had been a time I could communicate with him. Flashing the lanterns until he came to what I had always considered to be our spot. For him to not even feel me like before was something of a shock. What had happened to the man that had used to smile up at the hanging lights and tell me he’d be by soon? “Malcolm,” I started. “It’s okay. Bury me.” But the moment I said it, I realized that they already did. Whatever I was experiencing today was nothing more than a memory. Something that had happened not long after they had retrieved me. “I just don’t understand,” Hazel was saying. “Milo wouldn’t do this.” “Wouldn’t he?” Belladonna laughed bitterly. “Face it. Your Milo fucked all of us and did it gleefully. He lured $name to that ball and then killed ?them in cold blood.” “No,” Hazel cried. “No, he wouldn’t…” Belladonna leaned forward. “He did. I watched from the door. I saw it happen. He opened a gate in ?their chest and let Hynsin crawl in. $name’s light went out the second that the lanterns did. And if that is not enough proof, why did he run?” she asked, the question curling around her tongue like a hiss. “If Milo was so innocent, why did he run, leaving $name’s body in the incursion after.” Hazel didn’t answer, tears slipping down her face as a sob was torn from her throat. One bloody long nail tipped Hazel’s chin up. “Stop being so fucking naive, Hazel dear. Weakness is not attractive.” “Get the fuck away from my sister,” Malcolm snapped. Belladonna tightened her grip on Hazel’s chin, the young witch crying out, before being shoved away. “Do you know where he is?” Gabriel asked, voice still devoid of emotion. Malcolm scooted towards his sister, wrapping an arm around her. “Why does it matter, Warden?” “Given his actions, I will be arresting him.” “He’s a Baron,” Malcolm pointed out. “By the laws that you support, you cannot.” “Ask me if I care,” he stated. I could see it then. The way that Gabriel’s eyes turned cold. I had thought him a cold and less than empathetic man before. But this was far worse. Small fissures appeared in his skin, marking up the side of his neck and towards the stubble on his jaw. Malcolm rose from his seat. “Listen, last night was not what any of us expected. And I am not defending Milo. But I don’t know if we still understand what is going on.” “Of course you’ll defend him,” Belladonna laughed. <<if $miloro == "true">> “$name is out of the way for you now.” “You know that was never a factor.” “Clearly not.”<</if>> Her eyes flashed red. “Tell me, Malcolm. Were you in on this? Did you know what your ex would be doing?” “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” “Oh, I believe you should before I rip your tongue from your throat and feed it to you, Gatekeeper.” “Stop,” Hazel yelled as Malcolm and Belladonna advanced on each other. Around us, the candles rose to thick green flame and a pulse went through the room. “We are not doing this. If we cannot sit here and speak of $name kindly then we should not be sitting and speaking with each other at all.” The evocation of my name was somewhat sobering. Hazel had a way about her when she wanted everyone's attention. The ability to weave commands within single words. Looking at her now, I could see the magic crackling at her fingertips. How the shadows curled from her sight. [[Next|Chapter one 4]] Malcolm stepped forward. “Hazel.” “No,” she shouted. Her eyes were black, her face an unhealthy shade of green. “I am not burying ?them.” “Why?” Malcolm asked, helplessly. “I thought out of all of us, this would be what you would want. This is how I came back.” “No,” she said firmly. “You only came back with $name’s intervention. I don’t have that luxury anymore. So, I will be keeping the body and–” “And what? Experimenting on them?” Malcolm asked incredulously. “I am not going to let you go down that road.” “Then what good am I?” she shouted. “I have to bring ?them back. It is our fault that ?they died and now we are going to fix it.” “That’s fine, but Hazel? This is not the way.” “For you, perhaps,” she said. “But you never did believe in my magic.” Before she could elaborate further, she turned to make her way towards the back of the shop. “Go to Milo. We both know you know where he is.” “Hazel–” “And another thing,” she yelled. “If I find out that you had anything to do with this then I’ll…” but her words were lost in a muffled sob. As her face crumbled, she buried it in her hands. Malcolm stepped forward, wrapping arms around her and gently rocking her back and forth. Behind me, the walls cracked, planks of wood bursting apart and forming another pathway for me to step through. [[Step through the plank pathway]] [[Go down through the floor]] [[Stay in the room they were all in]] I walked through to the plank pathway, leaving the apothecary and stepping right back into the ball. Individuals danced around me like strange little marionettes while I stood in the same clothes I had presented myself in that fateful night. The key shaped scar across my chest ached. “May I have this dance?” The belled face of Taliesin stood before me, his smile half melted and the scratch across his face deep. Blood seeped through the bone of the mask he wore, the right horn snapped and hanging uselessly around his ears. [[Sure. Let’s do this again]] [[Fuck you]] [[Stay away from me]] I chose neither of the standard paths. None of the ways that were presented to me. Instead, I let my arms extend to either side of me and fell backwards. The floor greeted me with a soft bounce as the world around me bled away and I was underneath the Apothecary. In an earthen tomb that was boarded up and long forgotten. The place where the demons rested. I couldn’t stand in here. The ceiling was low, a cave in having taken out most of the place. But I could still see it. All the things that Hazel didn’t want to think of. Old art supplies of Malcolm’s before he left the house. Back when they were teenagers. Old books that crackled with magic. Some obviously Hazel’s mothers. Others had the distinct cast of Hazel’s magic over them. Soft crying filtered in the room from somewhere. My eyes were adjusting slowly as I tried to spy the source of the distress. But it was as if the tears soaked through the walls. A pain so acute that it was only allowed to be buried. Because it would drive anyone else to madness if it were to be let loose. <<if $hazelro == "true">> “Oh, Hazel.” In the corner, I could see her. The young girl that had been born to this world and told she had to carry on the family line. To continue on through life acting one way. Believing one thing. And when she didn’t, she was punished for it. A mother who never loved her. A brother who left. No friends. No father. Only a cat to hold when the nights got too much.<</if>> Crawling forward, I looked for a way out. Above, the floorboards rattled and the lost souls that had been sacrificed through the years still stared at me from the darkest of corners. Too scared to move on. Not that they could. And in the very corner of the room, a stuffed animal sat. A lone, forgotten toy, covered in dirt and cobwebs. Reaching out, I pulled it to me. Its marbled lifeless eyes stared up at me, the whiskers bent and twisted, the chest ripped open for fluff to spill out across my hands. “Billows?” I whispered. Behind me, a crack split through the room, tearing it apart and peeling the surrounding paintings to shreds before placing me right back into that grey damp alley. The stuffed animal hopped out of my hands and walked back to the corner of the old room, laying down with a sigh. Waiting. Slowly, I crawled out of the room and back into the alley. The world closed up behind me. [[Next|Chapter One 9]] I hung on as best I could, not wanting to leave the four of them. The room around me shook and something powerful burst through the broken windows like a howling wind. But as I looked at the four of them, they were unaffected. I could feel the hands of the dead trying to pull me back, however. Like they were trying to take me away from the pain. “Not now, Pen,” I shouted. The wind stopped and Pen sat in the broken window, skin the color of stained-glass. “My mont petit chu. I do not wish to see you hurt.” “I will not be hurt. I want to see this. These are my friends.” <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> “I know, my friend but– holy Nothing. That’s the girl? Oh, never mind my little minx. I will be leaving.” “What?” I did a double take as Pen started climbing through the window. “Pen,” I protested. “No. $name, you go after that woman. You haunt that ass and you don’t return home until you have succeeded. On behalf of the individuals in this world that have never gotten that hot of a woman, I am telling you, you take this for the team.” “Pen!” “I’m not listening! Bed her, $name. Bed her and then kiss her delectable feet! Ask her to step on you and then thank her for it. I will not take no for an answer.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "false">> “I know you want to see them but this is not the way. These are memories that people aren’t supposed to be privy to,” Pen said. “I’m not people,” I shouted back at $himher. “You know what I mean. Now come on. This is not your domain right now. I shouldn’t even be letting you wander through your memories. Each time you sift through another thought the real market goes a bit haywire. Just stop this.” The way Pen was looking at me, I could tell that things were getting bad out there. Each time I jumped somewhere there was an equal effect in the market proper. But I didn’t know if I cared. I wanted, just for once, to be selfish. To return to the people frozen behind me in some form of a stage play. I just wanted to go home. “I’m not leaving,” I told $himher. “Don’t try to stop me.” Pen rarely showed $hisher irritation. But I could see it clearly on $hisher face today. “Fine,” $heshe snapped. “Stay. But if the world rips apart and everyone goes scattering to the wind, or even worse, your bitch of a sister, don’t you come crying to me. I won’t reap a single one of you and I’ll just let you fly around out there crying for death.” “Stop being dramatic,” I told $himher. $HeShe stuck out $hisher tongue at me.<</if>> I watched as Pen climbed out of the window, disappearing. The apothecary turned to normal again, time started ticking, and behind me, Hazel’s soft weeping filled the room. I pushed my fingers gently into my eyes. I felt like the world was moving in several speeds all at once and I couldn’t keep up. There were the memories I was viewing and then there was what I was supposed to be experiencing. “There will be no discussion over this,” Belladonna said. “We cannot afford to have a body decaying within one of our homes. $name will be buried and will be provided a resting spot. If the rules of the Night Market apply to ?them, then we will take things as they come.” Hazel was looking wildly between all of them. “But–” Malcolm’s hand rested on her shoulder, stopping her from continuing. “I’ll get in contact with the graveyard. If $name already has a marked plot, then we’ll put ?them to rest there.” [[Next|Chapter One 5]] One by one they left. Gabriel was first, rising to leave the room and head back out on patrol. Belladonna was next, looking at Hazel as if it would be the last time she saw her. Hazel left, crying soon after, leaving just Malcolm. He stood at the very spot he had died. The stain of his blood still beneath his feet. Hands in his pockets, he shook his head, loose locks of hair falling in front of his eyes. “What a mess we’ve made,” he whispered. Then he, too, was gone. The Apothecary suddenly felt cold. The chill running across me in a way that was far deeper than the frost bitten air could conjure. This kind of chill was the inevitable looming on the horizon. The stench of someone that didn’t belong. Problems that were looming on the horizon, ready to snatch me into nothing. “You’re right there.” I whipped around towards the voice and my vision blurred. When I righted myself again, I tripped over the threshold of a door. And suddenly, I was in a small room, a familiar blanket folded on the bed. Motes of dust swirled around me, shining incandescent in the soft sunlight streaming from the windows. The room smelled of baked bread and was warm and comfortable. As I stepped forward, reaching out for the blanket, I couldn’t help feel a wave of soft love. Pulling the comforter towards me, I held it to my chest. [[The blanket was green with fabric buttons|Blanket Color][$blanket to "green with fabric buttons"]] [[The blanket was the color of amber|Blanket Color][$blanket to "amber"]] [[The blanket was colorful and patchwork|Blanket Color][$blanket to "colorful patchwork"]] [[The blanket was velvet and black|Blanket Color][$blanket to "velvet and black"]] [[The blanket was pastel colored and soft|Blanket Color][$blanket to "pastel and soft"]] The blanket was $blanket Holding it up to my cheek, I felt that wash of familiarity. Like I had been wrapped in it the day I was born. There was security with this singular item and I couldn’t remember why. Maybe the reasoning didn’t matter anymore. Just that it was mine. This entire place was mine, in fact. Made from my own thoughts on what would be my perfect home. I couldn’t remember when it had come into existence and maybe the reality was that it had only just come to be. But the door firmly shut behind me, blocking out the gray wash of the world and leaving me to breathe for the first time since coming back to myself. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, I looked around. [[The room was warm and bright with natural colors|Room][$room to "room 1"]] [[The room was eclectic and messy|Room][$room to "room 2"]] [[The room was modern with clean lines|Room][$room to "room 3"]] [[The room was dark and rich in color|Room][$room to "room 4"]] [[The room was cottagecore and mismatched|Room][$room to "room 5"]] A distant buzz was what woke me. An insistent fly in my ear as chatter filled the world. I could hear it, just outside my window. Opening my eyes, I looked around. The room was unchanged but outside, I could hear the bustle of the market. It boomed just beyond my vision on the other side of mercury warbled glass. Sitting up, I pressed my fingers to the window. A cacophony of voices were barely being kept at bay and through them all, I could hear it. My name. It was being uttered somewhere out there in the waking world. I just had to… My body fell forward as I was out on the darkened streets. Focusing in, I tried to single out the voice that had been saying my name over and over again. [[The voice sounded comforting and kind|Voice][$voice to "kind"]] [[The voice sounded firm and demanding of obedience|Voice][$voice to "firm"]] [[The voice sounded childlike and scared|Voice][$voice to "scared"]] <<if $voice == "kind">>"Time to get up now," the voice called to me. "Time to decide who you want to be." The voice was kind in a way. Encouraging when others had not been. I wanted to do right by it. To make it proud for some reason. <<elseif $voice == "firm">>"Get up. No more of this wandering," the voice demanded of me, nearly startling me off my bed. It was a voice that called for obedience. One that I knew if I did not listen to, would only continue to hound me.<<elseif $voice == "scared">>"I don't think you should go out there. But better you than me. Just be careful, alright?" The voice was timid. Childlike and full of fear. It gave me very little confidence to step forward but for some reason, I felt like I had to. Simply so the voice would not.<</if>> Gas lanterns burned with a sage green light all along the brick walls. The alley dead ended right where my window was. There was no door that led back inside and the window itself was only partially open. I could see within, though. At the blanket that was folded at the edge of the bed. “Iblis!” A voice called out. I whirled around only to see a tall man with long black hair and ghostly white skin, come out of a brightly lit bakery down the way. “Iblis! It’s bath time!” A giggle sounded behind me as a small flutter brushed past my legs. Glancing down, there was nothing. But the sound of something scurrying up the side of the wall filled the alley. When I turned back to the man, he was heading towards a nondescript door, just above the building. Nothing but a muffled laugh from a child followed. Stepping further into the alley, I took a deep breath. The air smelled strongly of wheat and honey along with the tang of metal and oil. At my back, was a brick wall, reaching far higher than the one within the market proper ever had. Adjacent to my window was a double glass storefront with a murky door. From what I could see from the inside, it was full of clocks. Next to that was the unmarked door that the man had gone into, which looked as if it led to a set of second story apartments. A little further down at the mouth of the alley was the bright lights of a bakery. On the other side, a cave with lapis gems hanging like a curtain at the front. Overhead, the lanterns swayed like shed skeletons of their once resplendent light. The alley was empty but just beyond I could see the occasional wanderer as they passed the mouth of the alleyway on their way to and from their destination. I wondered briefly what part of my body that was supposed to be. Not knowing how I was supposed to get back to the graveyard, I stepped forward. There was no time like the present to try and start figuring all of this out. And, if my own mind had sent me here, then I was assuming that here was where I was supposed to be. <<if $bakery == "false">>[[Investigate the bakery]]<</if>> <<if $cave == "false">>[[Investigate the gem cave]]<</if>> <<if $artalley == "false">>[[Investigate opening of the alley]]<</if>> “Take me back,” I snapped. I wanted to be in those streets. To help. To find others in that predicament. <<if $freepeople == "true">> We could help. There were things we could do to save them. The guard wasn’t needed. Pen and I could go and set people free on our own.<<elseif $freepeople == "false">> I didn’t want loved ones to hear others suffer any longer. Nor did I want people dying alone in the dark.<</if>> “Nope,” $heshe said with a pop of $hisher lips. “Pen, take me the hell back there. My job is not done.” “Technically, that is not your job,” he pointed out. “It is the Wardens and the people he hired for that. Maybe the market goers. Fate’s possibly but Fate tends to not interfere from what I hear. How unfair is that? Wish we could be that way.” There was a bubble of hate that rolled through me. Why did this all just feel so damn pointless? Being the Night Market. Being //here//. Why was there nothing I could do to help the very people that I was meant to house? <<if $freepeople == "true">> “But we got them out. There are more out there. We can’t just stand by and not find them.” “We can when you’re about to fall over,” $heshe pointed out. “Do you even realize you’re leaning on that rock? That the world is spinning?” No. The answer was a firm no. And I hated $himher for pointing it out to me.<</if>> I frowned. That was the exact opposite of what I wanted. “I came down here on a whim, didn’t I.” “You always kind of do.” “Didn’t think any of it through.” “Nope.” “That may not have been the greatest decision.” “I like to think of it as a tiny little bubble of chaos. A midlife crisis, if you will. Just ever several hundred years or so, you get an itch.” [[Do you think I should forget about the life I had?]] [[I’m not having a mid life crisis. You can’t do that as an immortal]] [[I just want to make things right]]“Do you have any idea how to save these people?” The ones that were not reborn and stuck swimming in the well. The individuals who had been trapped in dark and lonely allies, some of them being hunted. I didn’t want to just sit by and let them die. <<if $freepeople == "true">> Short of Pen and I walking every alley and listening for cries of help, however, I wasn’t sure what to do.<</if>> “No,” $heshe winced. “Unfortunately, I do not. Death is my foray. Not life.” “I can’t just leave them there.” “You wouldn’t be you if you did.” The one thing that I had always held dear during my time here, was that I cared for people. That my actions were done out of trying to take care of others. In the end, that also may have been what got me into this position. Because once again, I didn’t think. I simply saw someone in need and took action before I could weigh the consequences. “Do you think that I try too hard?” “To save people?” $heshe asked with a raised brow. “Yes. But that is not a bad thing. That is, in fact, a wonderful persona to be.” “But I’m failing,” I told him. “You are not failing. You are just not succeeding to your standards,” $heshe laughed. “There is a difference.” “Failing to my standards is becoming complicated." “I like to think of it as a tiny little bubble of chaos. A midlife crisis, if you will. Just ever several hundred years or so, you get an itch.” [[Do you think I should forget about the life I had?]] [[I’m not having a mid life crisis. You can’t do that as an immortal]] [[I just want to make things right]] The coral beneath me was a vibrant pink, pulsing against the palms of my hands and reminding me of the beating pulse of life all around me. “I need to be corporeal again, Pen,” I told him. “I can’t keep operating from this weird non-existent state.” There was a long pause before they spoke again. “I thought sending you to your grave would do the trick.” “I mean, maybe? I met a man that said he can help but the moment he started poking around I got sent back here.” There had to be a way to make me live. To embody some sort of construct so I didn’t have to go through this for simple contact. “Maybe I need to get back to the entire version of me?” I guessed. “Start fresh?” “You might not be you again,” Pen commented. “Not the one with all the emotions and feelings that have been nurtured in those formative little months. In fact, you could very well get back to your big ol’ self and forget that all entirely. Just think of it as a fun little memory to observe again.” I frowned. That was the exact opposite of what I wanted. “I came down here on a whim, didn’t I.” “You always kind of do.” “Didn’t think any of it through.” “Nope.” “That may not have been the greatest decision.” “I like to think of it as a tiny little bubble of chaos. A midlife crisis, if you will. Just ever several hundred years or so, you get an itch.” [[Do you think I should forget about the life I had?]] [[I’m not having a mid life crisis. You can’t do that as an immortal]] [[I just want to make things right]]“Do you think I should forget about the life I had?” I asked $himher. “I’ve been trying these past few months to get back to the Night Market streets and I’m starting to wonder if the entire thing is futile. If I’m holding on to some sort of dream that was never mine to begin with.” Pen tipped $hisher head off to one side, swinging $hisher legs back and forth against the coral cliff. Near us, an eel slithered by, lighting the expanse of the dark in a brilliant flash of electric blue. I could see the well off in the distance and the monsters slumbering in the dark. “I think you already put some things into motion,” $heshe said slowly. “And for you to back out now would cause a lot of strife. We clean up our messes, dear friend. We never let them sit and simmer. That provides a foundation of rot.” “But I can’t seem to figure out how to get back,” I told $himher. $HeShe sighed, a far off look to $hisher face. “You will,” $heshe said “You will.” Scooting closer to me, $heshe tossed an arm over my shoulder. "Have I ever told you how much I adore your insanity?” [[Get off me]] [[Don’t pretend like you’re any better]] [[Were you there to collect me when I died?]] “I’m not having a midlife crisis,” I told $himher. “I don’t think that’s something you’re allowed if you’re immortal.” “Really? You would think that you would have to have a mid-point somewhere. No one can remember eternity. We’ll need a reset eventually.” “What do you mean?” “Insanity, my friend. True insanity. It’s going to be what gets us all in the end if we are not careful. Some things are best left forgotten in order to keep us going.” I tipped my head to the side. “Have you forgotten things, Merripen?” “Who would remember if I did?” $heshe asked with a sly smile. Scooting closer to me, $heshe tossed an arm over my shoulder. "Have I ever told you how much I adore your insanity?” [[Get off me]] [[Don’t pretend like you’re any better]] [[Were you there to collect me when I died?]]“I just want to make things right,” I told Pen. “I didn’t realize what a domino effect me not being there would create.” Pen raised a brow to me. “You didn’t realize the domino effect it would have for the Night Market to become mortal and then be violently taken back?” I winced. “When you say it like that…” “It sounds a tad bit insane, doesn’t it? Like something someone would think of before they cast themselves down on some half-assed ritual to go frolicking without a memory though city streets under their domain.” Scooting closer to me, $heshe tossed an arm over my shoulder. “Lucky for you, I adore your insanity.” [[Get off me]] [[Don’t pretend like you’re any better]] [[Were you there to collect me when I died?]]“Get off me.” I shrugged at $himher, feeling his arm flop off. “You need to get control of your touchy-feely parts of yourself.” “That part that craves physical affection? The love and support of another? That pesky little empathetic part of me that take someone in my arms during their dying moments? Got it.” I rolled my eyes at $himher. Pen had always been far more dramatic than most gave $himher credit for. “Hopefully this Victor can help me,” I said after a moment. “Hopefully,” Pen said, looking out over the dark sea and the coral that flashed like little pink bubbles off into the blue-black water. “If not, however. I can’t say that I mind you in this state. You’re much easier to talk to in this humanoid form.” I laughed. “So are you.” “Yes,” $heshe grinned wildly, tipping his head back. “I suppose an entire eldritch entity of sorts and a big ol’ skeleton would make an absolutely fine pair. The other cosmic beings out there most likely got very uppity about our conversations. Remember that time we played volleyball with the stars?” “I remember when you threw a star at me, yes.” “Yeah,” $heshe grinned with a small sigh. “Such fun.” Shaking my head, I rose from my seat. “I better go.” “What are you going to do?” I looked out at the darkness again, knowing nothing was waiting for me. That life was going on despite me not being there. But I had to keep going. To keep trying. Because if I stopped, then the world around me was never going to be able to heal. “Wander a bit more. I got this weird itch in the back of my skull like I’m still missing something. Like there’s something I need to see.” “Follow the itch, my friend. Scratch it ‘till you bleed!” Shaking my head, I turned away. But just before the Deep turned back into the gray liminal space of my mind, I looked over my shoulder at Pen. $HeShe looked out over the churning well sadly. True horror playing across their eyes. [[Next|Chapter One 7]] “Don’t pretend like you’re any better than I am at all this. You are just as insane. If not more so, at times.” “My insanity is charming,” $heshe told me. “It has the brief whiff of comedic relief that puts a smile on your pouty little face.” “I am not pouting.” $HeShe held up $hisher thumb and forefinger. “You’ve been slightly pouting. That’s alright though. I will just match your energy with my enthusiasm.” I shook my head at $himher. It would be far too easy for someone like Pen to do. “Hopefully this Victor can help me,” I said after a moment. “Hopefully,” Pen said, looking out over the dark sea and the coral that flashed like little pink bubbles off into the blue-black water. “If not, however. I can’t say that I mind you in this state. You’re much easier to talk to in this humanoid form.” I laughed. “So are you.” “Yes,” $heshe grinned wildly, tipping his head back. “I suppose an entire eldritch entity of sorts and a big ol’ skeleton would make an absolutely fine pair. The other cosmic beings out there most likely got very uppity about our conversations. Remember that time we played volleyball with the stars?” “I remember when you threw a star at me, yes.” “Yeah,” $heshe grinned with a small sigh. “Such fun.” Shaking my head, I rose from my seat. “I better go.” “What are you going to do?” I looked out at the darkness again, knowing nothing was waiting for me. That life was going on despite me not being there. But I had to keep going. To keep trying. Because if I stopped, then the world around me was never going to be able to heal. “Wander a bit more. I got this weird itch in the back of my skull like I’m still missing something. Like there’s something I need to see.” “Follow the itch, my friend. Scratch it ‘till you bleed!” Shaking my head, I turned away. But just before the Deep turned back into the gray liminal space of my mind, I looked over my shoulder at Pen. $HeShe looked out over the churning well sadly. True horror playing across their eyes. [[Next|Chapter One 7]] I didn’t remember my final moments well. I remembered the lights going out up above and the chaos that erupted just before I slipped away. I remembered Taliesin and the way he dove into my chest and the way Milo turned, ready to stab him but was a fraction too late. But then there was nothing. Not until I woke up near Pen, blinking like I had just had a very long sleep. “Were you there to collect me when I died?” I asked curiously. Death incarnate. The one who in the end was supposed to reap us all. “You know? I can’t remember?” I found that hard to believe. “You can’t remember if you came to collect your dear friend's soul?” “No. It’s the oddest thing,” $heshe laughed. “I’m a very busy reaper, my friend. You can’t possibly expect me to remember if I had to take your pesky soul back here.” I gave $himher a side look. Pen never struck me as someone who just simply forgot. No matter how busy they became. But it didn’t feel as if a push would be welcomed right now. And after what I had just witnessed within the market streets, I was feeling a little overwhelmed with it all. “Hopefully this Victor can help me,” I said after a moment. “Hopefully,” Pen said, looking out over the dark sea and the coral that flashed like little pink bubbles off into the blue-black water. “If not, however. I can’t say that I mind you in this state. You’re much easier to talk to in this humanoid form.” I laughed. “So are you.” “Yes,” $heshe grinned wildly, tipping his head back. “I suppose an entire eldritch entity of sorts and a big ol’ skeleton would make an absolutely fine pair. The other cosmic beings out there most likely got very uppity about our conversations. Remember that time we played volleyball with the stars?” “I remember when you threw a star at me, yes.” “Yeah,” $heshe grinned with a small sigh. “Such fun.” Shaking my head, I rose from my seat. “I better go.” “What are you going to do?” I looked out at the darkness again, knowing nothing was waiting for me. That life was going on despite me not being there. But I had to keep going. To keep trying. Because if I stopped, then the world around me was never going to be able to heal. “Wander a bit more. I got this weird itch in the back of my skull like I’m still missing something. Like there’s something I need to see.” “Follow the itch, my friend. Scratch it ‘till you bleed!” Shaking my head, I turned away. But just before the Deep turned back into the gray liminal space of my mind, I looked over my shoulder at Pen. $HeShe looked out over the churning well sadly. True horror playing across their eyes. [[Next|Chapter One 7]] Stepping out of the Deep, I turned the corner, letting my mind take control. There were days like this. Where I didn’t stop wandering. The passage of time was not always clear to me. Months felt like years. Days minutes. And each time I thought I had a grasp on time, it rewound to something different. When I stepped into the Apothecary I shouldn’t have been very surprised. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been in the cold memories of it before. It was just not where I thought my feet would take me today. The Apothecary somehow looked different. Less lived in. Less of a home. The little lantern that was above the door was cracked and lifeless while the darker corners of the room were swarming with shadows. Hazel had spent so much of her time trying to bat them away and now they coated the walls in viney tendrils that dripped with weeping black tears. “Maybe we shouldn’t… I just mean…” It was Hazel’s voice that came through first. I turned, looking towards the small dip in the floor where the sofas were all crammed and the old plank table was normally filled with food. My heart stopped, and the world froze for one prolonged moment. There they sat, just like they had so many times before. Belladonna on the arm of a chair. Gabriel stiff straight on the wood sofa. Hazel across the way, hands resting nervously in her lap and Malcolm, right next to her, head bowed. The only one missing was Milo. His usual stance, leaning against the pillar behind the sofa, was oddly empty. When I sucked in air again, time resumed. “We need to bury ?them,” Malcolm said gently. A tear slipped from Hazel’s eye. That kind and sweet gaze was puffy, swollen nearly shut from tears. Thick swaths of black and green magic coated her hands and her lips were bloodless as if she had been drained. “I don’t accept that,” she said desperately. Tipping her head up towards both Belladonna and Gabriel, she silently begged them for support. “You two can’t possibly agree with this, can you?” Gabriel was unmoving. He stared off to the opposite side of the room, as if he didn’t even realize he was there. And Belladonna? Her clothes were soaked with blood, the smell of brimstone coating her. No longer were her lips tinted red with rogue but instead with the cooling life of others. “Someone say something,” Hazel cried. Belladonna was the one who sighed. “What is it you would like for me to say, Hazel dear? That I relish the idea of putting the dear market into the cold ground? Or that I think ?they will come back without any interference?” “I just want someone to say something,” Hazel protested. “I called you two here to talk about this. $name was important to all of us and yet you two are just sitting here and–” “And you are very welcome for that,” Belladonna snapped. “I have things to do, Albright. This is not one of them.” Malcolm tipped his head up. “Belladonna, I think deciding how to lay $name to rest is far more important than going on a manhunt through the market.” Her lips curled upwards, her fangs on display. “I’m sure you do,” she sneered. I had heard that voice on Belladonna before. The one that said she had spotted her prey and was now on a hunt. “Tell me, did you wait until the body was cold before fucked //him// again?” Malcolm didn’t move but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Watch it, Baron.” “So that’s a yes then.” “Both of you stop!” Hazel shouted. “Just stop. We are here for $name. ?They gave everything for us. The least we can do is discuss how we will be honoring ?them.” “Shoving them in the ground sounds great,” Belladonna said, standing. “Sit down, Bella.” It was the first moment Gabriel had spoken. His voice gravel deep and bleeding. Belladonna didn’t listen to his command. Not that she ever had. But she didn’t storm from the shop like I assumed she would have. Malcolm was taking deep and even breaths. “I think we need to bury ?them. They are a portion of the Night Market. Returning them to their own self is the right thing to do.” “I’m not going to bury ?them for ?them to just wake up inside a coffin,” Hazel started desperately. “This is assuming that $name will even have the ability to come back,” Belladonna said. “Of course ?they will. $name is the literal Night Market. Where else would ?they wish to be but here?” There was silence that roamed through the room. An unsettling question beginning to take form. Would I even want to come back? The answer to me was of course I wanted to but… but could I? [[Try to speak to Gabriel]] [[Try to speak to Hazel]] [[Try to speak to Belladonna]] [[Try to speak to Malcolm]] The Apothecary somehow looked different. Less lived in. Less of a home. The little lantern that was above the door was cracked and lifeless while the darker corners of the room were swarming with shadows. Hazel had spent so much of her time trying to bat them away and now they coated the walls in viney tendrils that dripped with weeping black tears. “Maybe we shouldn’t… I just mean…” It was Hazel’s voice that came through first. I turned, looking towards the small dip in the floor where the sofas were all crammed and the old plank table was normally filled with food. My heart stopped, and the world froze for one prolonged moment. There they sat, just like they had so many times before. Belladonna on the arm of a chair. Gabriel stiff straight on the wood sofa. Hazel across the way, hands resting nervously in her lap and Malcolm, right next to her, head bowed. The only one missing was Milo. His usual stance, leaning against the pillar behind the sofa, was oddly empty. When I sucked in air again, time resumed. “We need to bury ?them,” Malcolm said gently. A tear slipped from Hazel’s eye. That kind and sweet gaze was puffy, swollen nearly shut from tears. Thick swaths of black and green magic coated her hands and her lips were bloodless as if she had been drained. “I don’t accept that,” she said desperately. Tipping her head up towards both Belladonna and Gabriel, she silently begged them for support. “You two can’t possibly agree with this, can you?” Gabriel was unmoving. He stared off to the opposite side of the room, as if he didn’t even realize he was there. And Belladonna? Her clothes were soaked with blood, the smell of brimstone coating her. No longer were her lips tinted red with rogue but instead with the cooling life of others. “Someone say something,” Hazel cried. Belladonna was the one who sighed. “What is it you would like for me to say, Hazel dear? That I relish the idea of putting the dear market into the cold ground? Or that I think ?they will come back without any interference?” “I just want someone to say something,” Hazel protested. “I called you two here to talk about this. $name was important to all of us and yet you two are just sitting here and–” “And you are very welcome for that,” Belladonna snapped. “I have things to do, Albright. This is not one of them.” Malcolm tipped his head up. “Belladonna, I think deciding how to lay $name to rest is far more important than going on a manhunt through the market.” Her lips curled upwards, her fangs on display. “I’m sure you do,” she sneered. I had heard that voice on Belladonna before. The one that said she had spotted her prey and was now on a hunt. “Tell me, did you wait until the body was cold before you fucked //him// again?” Malcolm didn’t move but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Watch it, Baron.” “So that’s a yes then.” “Both of you stop!” Hazel shouted. “Just stop. We are here for $name. ?They gave everything for us. The least we can do is discuss how we will be honoring ?them.” “Shoving them in the ground sounds great,” Belladonna said, standing. “Sit down, Bella.” It was the first moment Gabriel had spoken. His voice gravel deep and bleeding. Belladonna didn’t listen to his command. Not that she ever had. But she didn’t storm from the shop like I assumed she would have. Malcolm was taking deep and even breaths. “I think we need to bury ?them. They are a portion of the Night Market. Returning them to their own self is the right thing to do.” “I’m not going to bury ?them for ?them to just wake up inside a coffin,” Hazel started desperately. “This is assuming that $name will even have the ability to come back,” Belladonna said. “Of course ?they will. $name is the literal Night Market. Where else would ?they wish to be but here?” There was silence that roamed through the room. An unsettling question beginning to take form. Would I even want to come back? The answer to me was of course I wanted to but… but could I? [[Try to speak to Gabriel]] [[Try to speak to Hazel]] [[Try to speak to Belladonna]] [[Try to speak to Malcolm]] As Belladonna left the room, the other woman stared after her, face impassive. I lingered nearby, however. Curious to see what others did when the infamous Belladonna Malady turned her back. “Fix it,” the woman hissed. “Isn’t that supposed to be your job, //Baron//?” Storming over to the table, the woman began picking up the papers and stacking them nicely before walking out towards the opposite door Belladonna had exited through. I rushed after her. A crowd of a dozen or so people stood waiting. Their eyes were wide with hope and their hands wringing together fitfully. I tried to look at each of them, matching their faces to someone I may have a memory of. But they all looked new to the market. Refugees that must have come in during the final batch before the gates were closed forever. “Any luck, Gadora?” A stout woman asked hopefully. The vampire, Gadora, tipped her head up. “The mistress will not be turning any of you tonight. I would suggest finding another avenue.” “But you promised,” a man shouted. “We have done everything you asked. You swore to us that Baron Malady would turn us after. Give us our life.” “And I have gone back on that promise,” Gadora snapped, eyes flashing. “Understand this. You work for us. Not the other way around. And you have done terrible at your jobs. No one is coming here any longer and I must wonder if that’s because petty little urchins are hanging around the blood bars, asking for more than they deserve.” “But you said…” Gadora stepped forward, taking the man by the neck and snapping it. A cry went up through the small crowd. “No one, and I mean no one, will be turned by the mistress. She has deemed you all unworthy. You wish to go out there and prove yourself to her? Try actually caring for her. Sitting back here and mooching off of her generosity is not the way to do it.” The stout woman who initially spoke bowed her head, tears streaming down her face. “Please,” she begged. “We have no home. The market is not providing. What else can we do?” It was then I noticed the bite marks on them. Ugly red and purple blotches littering their skin. These people were blood bags. Ones that were only getting paid with false promises. “Have faith,” Gadora said softly. “Dedicate yourself to the mistress and she will in time reward you. And you can start by cleaning up this mess.” She kicked at the body on the ground before turning away. I watched as the shaking gathering of people looked down at the dead man. Just before the world around me wavered, I could hear them all beginning to cry. [[Next|Try to keep up and follow Bella]]“She’s blood drunk,” I whispered. Too much, too quick. Taking in the power of whatever she drank. Switching from her true form to the one of her as this unshakable woman. Yet something had driven her to this moment. Belladonna was not someone who lost control. As she had told me once, she couldn’t afford to. The fact that she was not only left her in a vulnerable position, but spoke of grave concern. “Mistress, please. We need to get you somewhere far away from here. Before you do anything else you’ll regret.” “Regret?” Belladonna laughed. “Oh, I will never regret this,” she said. “The sweetest blood is always going to be the blood of the innocent. You know that, Gadora. Us monsters have got to stick together. We must…” She suddenly doubled over, retching into the alley. She looked frail. Not the woman I had left months ago. Before me, Belladonna looked as if she was fading away. Embodying the dead that she truly was. I hadn’t been afraid since the ball, but this truly terrified me. [[Next|Belladonna 2]] I couldn’t leave this for someone to discover. While being a Baron gave her some exemptions to the law, I didn’t know if something like this would ever pass. Not even Gabriel could turn a blind eye to this, even if it was Belladonna that we were speaking of. Looking around, the alley was not big. The massacre itself wasn’t something that stretched far and depending on how she did it, people may not have even heard them scream. Stretching my fingers out to the walls, I closed my eyes. There were pockets within the market. Little areas that the lanterns dimmed and all was forgotten. This needed to become one of them. “Mistress, please. We need to get you somewhere far away from here. Before you do anything else you’ll regret.” “Regret?” Belladonna laughed. “Oh, I will never regret this,” she said. “The sweetest blood is always going to be the blood of the innocent. You know that, Gadora. Us monsters have got to stick together. We must…” She suddenly doubled over, retching into the alley. As they began walking away, I stared after them. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> This woman who had come to mean so much to me and this perfect stranger. Enacting the job that I should have been there for.<</if>> Behind me, the brick walls began moving, to cover the scene. I knew no one would ever find it. [[Next|Gabriel 2]] I crouched down, looking at the bodies closely. I knew what Belladonna was. I knew the things she was capable of. But not once had I seen her commit a massacre within the alley walls. She owned blood bars for the safe exchange of blood. She had said she would be dismantling the mists, Kavatii’s favorite hunting grounds. So why this? There was something odd about the bodies themselves. They had a crackle of magic around them that felt as if they didn’t belong. A sheen that coated their blood. It had been all over Belladonna’s mouth and dripped from her like a viscous coating of crimson oil. Without thinking, I dipped my fingers into the blood that painted the alley. It felt gritty and cold. “Mistress, please. We need to get you somewhere far away from here. Before you do anything else you’ll regret.” “Regret?” Belladonna laughed. “Oh, I will never regret this,” she said. “The sweetest blood is always going to be the blood of the innocent. You know that, Gadora. Us monsters have got to stick together. We must…” She suddenly doubled over, retching into the alley. I took another look down at the bodies, watching as they began to seep into the market floor. Their eyes closed as they faded away. [[Next|Belladonna 2]] I turned, finding the scenery changed once more. The Apothecary somehow looked different. Less lived in. Less of a home. The little lantern that was above the door was cracked and lifeless while the darker corners of the room were swarming with shadows. Hazel had spent so much of her time trying to bat them away and now they coated the walls in viney tendrils that dripped with weeping black tears. “Maybe we shouldn’t… I just mean…” It was Hazel’s voice that came through first. I turned, looking towards the small dip in the floor where the sofas were all crammed and the old plank table was normally filled with food. My heart stopped, and the world froze for one prolonged moment. There they sat, just like they had so many times before. Belladonna on the arm of a chair. Gabriel stiff straight on the wood sofa. Hazel across the way, hands resting nervously in her lap and Malcolm, right next to her, head bowed. The only one missing was Milo. His usual stance, leaning against the pillar behind the sofa, was oddly empty. When I sucked in air again, time resumed. “We need to bury ?them,” Malcolm said gently. A tear slipped from Hazel’s eye. That kind and sweet gaze was puffy, swollen nearly shut from tears. Thick swaths of black and green magic coated her hands and her lips were bloodless as if she had been drained. “I don’t accept that,” she said desperately. Tipping her head up towards both Belladonna and Gabriel, she silently begged them for support. “You two can’t possibly agree with this, can you?” Gabriel was unmoving. He stared off to the opposite side of the room, as if he didn’t even realize he was there. And Belladonna? Her clothes were soaked with blood, the smell of brimstone coating her. No longer were her lips tinted red with rogue but instead with the cooling life of others. “Someone say something,” Hazel cried. Belladonna was the one who sighed. “What is it you would like for me to say, Hazel dear? That I relish the idea of putting the dear market into the cold ground? Or that I think ?they will come back without any interference?” “I just want someone to say something,” Hazel protested. “I called you two here to talk about this. $name was important to all of us and yet you two are just sitting here and–” “And you are very welcome for that,” Belladonna snapped. “I have things to do, Albright. This is not one of them.” Malcolm tipped his head up. “Belladonna, I think deciding how to lay $name to rest is far more important than going on a manhunt through the market.” Her lips curled upwards, her fangs on display. “I’m sure you do,” she sneered. I had heard that voice on Belladonna before. The one that said she had spotted her prey and was now on a hunt. “Tell me, did you wait until the body was cold before you fucked //him// again?” Malcolm didn’t move but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Watch it, Baron.” “So that’s a yes then.” “Both of you stop!” Hazel shouted. “Just stop. We are here for $name. ?They gave everything for us. The least we can do is discuss how we will be honoring ?them.” “Shoving them in the ground sounds great,” Belladonna said, standing. “Sit down, Bella.” It was the first moment Gabriel had spoken. His voice gravel deep and bleeding. Belladonna didn’t listen to his command. Not that she ever had. But she didn’t storm from the shop like I assumed she would have. Malcolm was taking deep and even breaths. “I think we need to bury ?them. They are a portion of the Night Market. Returning them to their own self is the right thing to do.” “I’m not going to bury ?them for ?them to just wake up inside a coffin,” Hazel started desperately. “This is assuming that $name will even have the ability to come back,” Belladonna said. “Of course ?they will. $name is the literal Night Market. Where else would ?they wish to be but here?” There was silence that roamed through the room. An unsettling question beginning to take form. Would I even want to come back? The answer to me was of course I wanted to but… but could I? [[Try to speak to Gabriel]] [[Try to speak to Hazel]] [[Try to speak to Belladonna]] [[Try to speak to Malcolm]] I could feel myself weakening. Growing more and more tired the further I walked. But there was more. There was still something I had to see. Each step I took created a wavering ripple through the fake walls and the stony silence. I almost didn’t notice when I found myself standing back in a place that was all too familiar. The Apothecary somehow looked different. Less lived in. Less of a home. The little lantern that was above the door was cracked and lifeless while the darker corners of the room were swarming with shadows. Hazel had spent so much of her time trying to bat them away and now they coated the walls in viney tendrils that dripped with weeping black tears. “Maybe we shouldn’t… I just mean…” It was Hazel’s voice that came through first. I turned, looking towards the small dip in the floor where the sofas were all crammed and the old plank table was normally filled with food. My heart stopped, and the world froze for one prolonged moment. There they sat, just like they had so many times before. Belladonna on the arm of a chair. Gabriel stiff straight on the wood sofa. Hazel across the way, hands resting nervously in her lap and Malcolm, right next to her, head bowed. The only one missing was Milo. His usual stance, leaning against the pillar behind the sofa, was oddly empty. When I sucked in air again, time resumed. “We need to bury ?them,” Malcolm said gently. A tear slipped from Hazel’s eye. That kind and sweet gaze was puffy, swollen nearly shut from tears. Thick swaths of black and green magic coated her hands and her lips were bloodless as if she had been drained. “I don’t accept that,” she said desperately. Tipping her head up towards both Belladonna and Gabriel, she silently begged them for support. “You two can’t possibly agree with this, can you?” Gabriel was unmoving. He stared off to the opposite side of the room, as if he didn’t even realize he was there. And Belladonna? Her clothes were soaked with blood, the smell of brimstone coating her. No longer were her lips tinted red with rogue but instead with the cooling life of others. “Someone say something,” Hazel cried. Belladonna was the one who sighed. “What is it you would like for me to say, Hazel dear? That I relish the idea of putting the dear market into the cold ground? Or that I think ?they will come back without any interference?” “I just want someone to say something,” Hazel protested. “I called you two here to talk about this. $name was important to all of us and yet you two are just sitting here and–” “And you are very welcome for that,” Belladonna snapped. “I have things to do, Albright. This is not one of them.” Malcolm tipped his head up. “Belladonna, I think deciding how to lay $name to rest is far more important than going on a manhunt through the market.” Her lips curled upwards, her fangs on display. “I’m sure you do,” she sneered. I had heard that voice on Belladonna before. The one that said she had spotted her prey and was now on a hunt. “Tell me, did you wait until the body was cold before fucked //him// again?” Malcolm didn’t move but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Watch it, Baron.” “So that’s a yes then.” “Both of you stop!” Hazel shouted. “Just stop. We are here for $name. ?They gave everything for us. The least we can do is discuss how we will be honoring ?them.” “Shoving them in the ground sounds great,” Belladonna said, standing. “Sit down, Bella.” It was the first moment Gabriel had spoken. His voice gravel deep and bleeding. Belladonna didn’t listen to his command. Not that she ever had. But she didn’t storm from the shop like I assumed she would have. Malcolm was taking deep and even breaths. “I think we need to bury ?them. They are a portion of the Night Market. Returning them to their own self is the right thing to do.” “I’m not going to bury ?them for ?them to just wake up inside a coffin,” Hazel started desperately. “This is assuming that $name will even have the ability to come back,” Belladonna said. “Of course ?they will. $name is the literal Night Market. Where else would ?they wish to be but here?” There was silence that roamed through the room. An unsettling question beginning to take form. Would I even want to come back? The answer to me was of course I wanted to but… but could I? [[Try to speak to Gabriel]] [[Try to speak to Hazel]] [[Try to speak to Belladonna]] [[Try to speak to Malcolm]] “I’m going to try and keep going the way I was,” I confessed to Malcolm. “There are so many people out there in need and I am not going to turn my back on them.” I knew he couldn’t hear me, but saying it out loud felt like a step forward. A decision that I made for myself alone. “I just, will have to maybe go about it a bit differently. Since the last way was killing me.” Beside me, Malcolm was silent. “I wish you could hear me,” I told him. Around me, I felt the world wavering. The mess of my head began to swim as exhaustion kept dripping across me, coaxing me to close my eyes. But there was more to come. More to be seen. “I’ll come back soon,” I promised Malcolm, not wanting him to sit along in this forever. Not wanting any of them to. When the world drifted off around me, I almost thought for a single moment, that he could see me. But his apartment was replaced with the cobblestone walls and the bleakness of my position in life. [[Next|Malcolm 3]] <<set $choice to "true">> <<set $personality to "1">>“I think I need to stop focusing so much on the world outside the market. I’ve been trying to save everyone and in doing so, I think I’ve forgotten to save the ones that are actually here.” The rules that made up the world, the ones who commanded it? I should have been paying more attention. Beside me, Malcolm was silent. “I wish you could hear me,” I told him. Around me, I felt the world wavering. The mess of my head began to swim as exhaustion kept dripping across me, coaxing me to close my eyes. But there was more to come. More to be seen. “I’ll come back soon,” I promised Malcolm, not wanting him to sit along in this forever. Not wanting any of them to. When the world drifted off around me, I almost thought for a single moment, that he could see me. But his apartment was replaced with the cobblestone walls and the bleakness of my position in life. [[Next|Malcolm 3]] <<set $choice to "true">> <<set $personality to "3">>“I’m going to have to be tougher when I get back. Less forgiving with people. I don’t know if it's the Barons that got us in this mess. Milo. An entire jug of miscellaneous things. But something when wrong somewhere. I’ll fix it.” Beside me, Malcolm was silent. “I wish you could hear me,” I told him. Around me, I felt the world wavering. The mess of my head began to swim as exhaustion kept dripping across me, coaxing me to close my eyes. But there was more to come. More to be seen. “I’ll come back soon,” I promised Malcolm, not wanting him to sit along in this forever. Not wanting any of them to. When the world drifted off around me, I almost thought for a single moment, that he could see me. But his apartment was replaced with the cobblestone walls and the bleakness of my position in life. [[Next|Malcolm 3]] <<set $choice to "true">> <<set $personality to "2">> I leaned against the alley wall, staring up at the desolate gray sky. The lanterns were never lit here. They never had been. As if the warmth that encapsulated human life was not obtainable in such a place. Swallowing, I wiped a hand across my face. I had to get back to them. With each passing moment, Gabriel was breaking down. He was fading from the code he held himself by. We were going to lose him and I didn’t think Belladonna could do anything about it. But I still had more to see. I could feel it like an itch at the back of my skull. Feeling tired and weak, I pushed off the wall. And like all the times before, I just kept walking. [[Next|The Apothecary]] Curiously, I followed the baker into the back of the room to a small kitchen with a large cracked egg pressed against the back wall. The woman was bent over it, huffing at it a little and trying to stoke the flames within. I looked at it with wide eyes. It was clearly a hollowed out dragon egg redesigned to be an oven. “Ah,” the woman cried. “There we go.” Standing up straight, she put her hands on her hips. She wore doeskin leggings and a tight brown leather corset laced in gold. Her undershirt was the deepest color of blue. Hair short and incredibly curly, her tawny skin dusted with flour and something shimmering. “Now for the salts.” She looked around the room. “Salts salts salts.” I could see them. They sparkled pink over her right shoulder, but she seemed to be looking everywhere but there. Stepping around her, I went to reach for one, carrying it and putting it on the small table in front of her. She blinked, staring down at the bottle before laughing. “Thank you, whoever you are,” she grinned. Snatching up the salts, she went over to a cooling rack of what looked like black rice bowls, sprinkling the pink salt over it. “Kimber, do you have any more meat pies?” Someone called from the front. “Oh! No. I’ll get another batch going though.” She walked over to a cooler door, pulling it open and pulling out a tray of perfectly shaped pies. Just before she closed the door, I saw a body hanging there, half of it having been chopped up. I looked at the pies suspiciously. “Just popping them in the oven now!” she called out. She placed them in the dragon egg and brushed her hands off on her pants. “Now where are those cookies,” she muttered to herself. “The orphans are not going to feed themselves.” Quickly, I made my way out of the back room and into the night again. [[Investigate the clock shop]] <<if $cave == "false">>[[Investigate the gem cave]]<</if>> <<if $artalley == "false">>[[Investigate opening of the alley]]<</if>> I took a seat, situating myself in a pulled out chair so I could listen to the conversation within the bakery. It was the most active I had seen the Night Market as of late and the plethora of people who were standing around reminded me of just how vibrant life truly was here. “I hear that they're going to try and break down all the walls soon. Make it an open concept market,” a woman was saying, sipping at her tea. “That’s ridiculous,” her friend stated. She had a mass of blue freckles dotting her arms and little budding horns beneath her curled hair. “They can’t even break the walls down to save people. How are they going to break the walls down to remodel? Please, if you ask me, it’s a PR stunt. A way to get us all to stop complaining. The guard has hired a special task force to deal with shutting us all up.” A man from the next table over grunted. Tusks curled up from his lips. “No task force is going to shut us up. Whatever they did to fuck up the lanterns, they can’t seem to undo. I don’t think anyone is going to shut up until the lights go back on.” The first lady was humming in agreement. “Yes, but, depending on who you ask, the lights have all gone out for different reasons. Which leads me to believe that they don’t even know why.” I sat there listening to them. No reason had been given to the people. Instead, the lights went out, the market was in chaos, and everyone was just forced to accept it and go about their lives. Whatever dystopian world I had stepped back into, was rapidly declining. “And have you seen the Warden lately?” blue freckles asked. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “He looks as if he’s lost a lover. I don’t think he’s eating and I hear he is getting weaker and weaker by the moment.”<<elseif $gabrielro == "false">> “He is certainly overworked and is looking weaker and weaker. Couldn’t even fight off a few petty thieves down at the docks the other day.” “Maybe he just didn’t want to,” the man grunted.<</if>> “Kimber, do we have any more meat pies?” A young girl asked from the front counter. Slowly, I rose from my seat. Maybe the bakery wasn’t the best place to be. Whatever information they had was all circumstantial and was making me feel more and more uneasy. [[Investigate the clock shop]] <<if $cave == "false">>[[Investigate the gem cave]]<</if>> <<if $artalley == "false">>[[Investigate opening of the alley]]<</if>>“Herald,” I began, knowing the customer couldn’t see me. “That man stole a clock. I watched him.” Herald tipped his head to me, a curious question on his face. I just nodded at the man though. “Inside pocket.” Herald sighed. “Sir, I want to help you here because I think that you have a good reason for buying a clock today. But I am going to need you to return what you have stolen. I don’t want to have to get the Guard involved and I really don’t want Turner finding out what it is you’ve done. He is already stressed enough.” The man looked at Herald with wide eyes. “Why I– how dare you accuse me. I didn’t take such a thing. If I was simply going to steal, why would I be arguing with that young man about buying a clock so much?” “I don’t know,” Herald said with a shrug. “But my friend here says it's in your inner pocket. If you could just show me that it’s not, I’ll apologize and we can continue to focus on getting you what you need. If there’s a clock in there, though, we’re going to need to have a bit of a discussion.” “Your friend?” “Yeah. ?They’re invisible.” At this point, the man was so overwhelmed by the fact that Herald knew about the clock and that he apparently was speaking to invisible people, that he dug the small pocket watch out of his inner pocket. He handed it to Herald with some hesitation. “I really need a clock.” “I understand that. But the clock you stole doesn’t work. He never puts the ones that work out front.” The man looked crestfallen. “Let’s get you going for something you can actually use.” "You're not getting him anything, Herald," the man called from the front. "Fuck. Let me just handle my own customers." “Of course.” Herald was smiling when he turned his back from Turner and the customer. The two of them now arguing over what exactly a double hand thing was. Approaching me, he tipped his head again. “Good to see you out and about.” [[Why is it you can still see me?]] [[The clock smith a friend of yours?]] It wasn’t any of my business. I wasn’t about to rat the man out. Especially for something like a clock. Though the clock smith did seem a little hyper focused on them. Particularly on the not selling them part. “I’m looking for something for my granddaughter,” the man was saying. “She’s passed on and I heard if you get a more expensive clock, they are prone to come back faster.” Herald nodded. “Know that’s something people believe but I can tell you a clock is a clock. I’ve never heard of one working better than another.” “That’s fucking not true!” Turner yelled from the counter. Herald sighed. “I’ve never heard of one bringing someone back quicker than another.” At that, Turner stayed quiet. “I just want the best of the best for her,” the man said. The clock in his pocket certainly hadn’t been the best of the best so I didn’t know what his game was. “And if I can’t get the best of the best, I’ll go elsewhere.” “Good! Fucking go!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the way the man bristled while Herald was looking like this was a normal day. “Well, I can try and sell you a couple little clocks for the price of one. Or maybe one of those granddaddy clocks.” “Get out of the way, Herald. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Turner was storming over, positioning himself in front of Herald, arm crossed as he looked over the customer. “Alright, I’ll deal with you.” Herald smiled, patting Turner on the shoulder before ducking his head beneath the time pieces hanging from the ceiling and going back towards the counter. Approaching me, he tipped his head again. “Good to see you out and about.” [[Why is it you can still see me?]] [[The clock smith a friend of yours?]] I was staying out of it. Not only did I not know what the hell was going on but I didn’t know the last thing about clocks in general. So instead, I walked back towards the counter, noticing the way Turner was staring intently at Herald and the customer. His eyes were narrowed and I was pretty sure I could manifest in front of him and he would still only see those two. The man was fidgeting with the little gears that Herald had slipped him, eyes focusing in on whatever puzzle he saw. I could see the way he kept eyeing the customer across the way though. Frowning at whatever it was that Herald was saying. Something about it was irritating him. Enough so that he dropped one of the cogs. On instinct, I bent forward and picked it up, placing it back up on the counter. Turner’s nose wrinkled. “The fuck?” “Alright, Turner. This man would like to buy a timepiece with some sort of double hand thing to it,” Herald called across the way. “Double hand thing?” Turner asked. “What the fuck is that even, Herald?” “I don’t know clocks like you.” “Yeah. That’s clear. Fuck.” Slipping off the stool he made his way across the room. “You brought in a ghost friend or something. Go deal with that and leave the clocks to a professional.” “Of course.” Herald was smiling when he turned his back from Turner and the customer. The two of them now arguing over what exactly a double hand thing was. Approaching me, he tipped his head again. “Good to see you out and about.” [[Why is it you can still see me?]] [[The clock smith a friend of yours?]] The night air was cool. I could feel it on my skin. The way it brushed lightly against me. For a brief moment, I could almost believe that I was real again. But the world was bustling by. People coming in and out of the bakery. A few peeking their head into the gem cave. I couldn’t help but notice how no one really tried to go to the clock shop, though. The flames that lit the alley in a sickly green were not inviting and smelled of petrol, but the brightness of the bakery did some good at driving back the night. Wanderers kept coming through the wood arches, heading to the bakery and looking at the light with hope. I had no idea how I had shown up here. Maybe Herald was right. I had seen a need for myself and I had taken it. Despite the doors to the other worlds being shut down, I did seem to still have some abilities available to me. A way to help people. “Do you smell that?” A young man sniffed the air, his tongue snaking out to taste it. Next to him, his companion looked bored. “It smells like peaches.” “There’s a bakery right there,” the companion said. “I know but–” I heard nothing as they continued to walk on. Their voices drowned out by a strange scratching noise somewhere within the alleyway. Frowning, I looked around, trying to pinpoint it. It was loud and persistent, scraping against the walls and sending little bits of stone to clatter across the paths. Yet, I could see no sign of it. Only hear it. As if it were happening elsewhere. And the man had been right. The air smelled like peaches. [[Go back to the house where it is safe]] [[Go try and tell Herald something is going on]] [[Try to find the scratching]] I collapsed back in my room, my head hitting the pillow some time later. The market suddenly felt loud and nearly unbearable. My skin too tight. The world pressing in on me in a way that barely allowed me to breathe. I didn’t know how long I slept, but when I woke, I was not in my bed. Two figures danced on the horizon. Tangled together in a slow sway to a song that no one else could hear. They dipped and twirled as the market above rained stars upon them. Scattered bits of the sky flicked from the end of their feet, bouncing around them in a glittering arc that cast bits of dew far off into the night. The bitter laugh that accompanied it felt entirely out of place. “That you?” Milo. Stepping forward, I peered into the dark. I could hear the trickling of water as it edged down the walls that pressed in around us. My feet walked across glass, fissures of obsidian sparking out from below me. They pulsed with an amber light but never remained lit. I came upon him in the dark. He sat, back to the wall, hair slicked back from his face with dirty water. He was clutching his side, blood seeping from between his fingers. The decimated bodies of goblins bobbed in the water all around him. “I know you’re here,” he said, coughing into his elbow. His lips came away red. “You gonna kill me? Be a mistake if you did.” [[I’m not going to kill you]] [[Some might say you deserve it]] [[Depends. You going to keep lying?]]“I’m not going to kill you,” I told him softly. It wasn’t in my nature to. “I have a lot of feelings I need to sort out about what you’ve done, but I’m not going to kill you, Milo. If anything, I just want to talk about it. Get things back to normal. Because right now, I feel like everything is just completely out of control.” Laughter bubbled up thick and deep in his throat, spiraling him into a coughing fit. I could see it then. The way his eyes glowed. Deep amber lanterns that lit the surrounding area just enough to see the wounds that scarped up and down his arm. Or the way he was twisted at an angle. “Suppose it’s fitting, yeah? You being my executioner. Makes sense.” I tipped my head to the side, looking him up and down. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?” But the sound of another pair of footsteps began echoing through the wet depths around us. Turning, I could see a small candle flicker, the light of which began bouncing off the sewage tunnel we were trapped within. “Aw, dear Milo,” the man said. “It’s the circle of life, my friend.” Milo rolled his eyes. “Varyl, you and I weren’t friends back in the day and we’re certainly not now. Got to ask though. Still mad that I’m better than you? Does it hurt that little stone heart of yours that I was still picked for every job while you were stuck cleaning up everyone's shit?” Varyl was an averaged height man aside from the curling horns that nearly scraped the top of the tunnel. He had a narrow face and green eyes that dripped acid like tears. “No, Milo. I’m not mad. Because in the end, you still lose.” “Do I?” Milo shifted. It was subtle but I was used to it. He had done it from time to time. Just a brief displacement of weight. I wisely took a step back. “You’re the one bleeding out. Guess the market is going to have a new Gatekeeper soon.” When Varyl leaned in close, it was with a pointed smile and a bright glee to his eyes. “Tell me. On a scale of one to ten, how good of a fuck was this world? Will I enjoy it?” Milo laughed that boyish laugh he often got in the bars. “Come close and I’ll tell you.” One step was all Milo needed. Varyl ducked his head just enough to step forward, his eyes glancing to where his boot landed. Milo lunged then, pulling the blade from behind his back and shoving it deep into the man’s belly before pulling upwards. Varyl thrashed for a moment but Milo was stronger, holding him against the wall as he wetly gasped. “You want this quick?” he asked. “Because this is going to go two ways. Either you are going to apologize for what you just said, or I’ll keep you alive for the next few hours. I’ll happily stand here until you bleed out.” “Apologize to who?” Varyl snarled. “The market you ignorant bastard.” Twisting the knife, Milo followed the sway of Varyl’s body, leaning forward, lips brushing the man's ear. “Say you’re sorry,” he sang. “Fuck you and that market whore.” “Wrong answer.” Pulling the knife out, Milo kicked the man downwards. A crackling gate opened and just on the other side, I could see a vast stretch of nothingness, monsters calling out in the night. “Bye Varyl. May the Knowing have mercy on your soul.” He kicked him through, shutting the gate and staring at it. “May the Market have mercy on your soul?” he mused. “May $name have mercy on your soul.” He paused, staring at the now closed door. “Yeah. $name would have mercy.” He stumbled as he tried to walk away. The knife slipped from his bloody grip as he made his way down the body strew sewer tunnel and towards the dark. I followed him, not wanting to be left in the dark with the bodies. Milo was silent as he trudged, walking like the tunnel was somehow familiar. When he paused, I thought he was lost. When I heard the gasping sob, I froze. Milo leaned against the wall, one hand bracing himself while the other clutched at his side. The ragged pants of his breath turned into wrecked sobs as he leaned forward, knees almost buckling. [[Walk away]] [[Reach out and try to touch him]] [[Try to talk to him]] “Some might say that’s exactly what you deserve,” I told him thinly. If he had just come to us, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way. If he had just approached Hazel before even doing the ritual… but then again, I never would have been here. The same could have maybe been said about me as well. What if I had taken this more seriously from the beginning. I knew what was happening to me. And yet I still came down here toe experience life instead of coming down here to fix what was wrong. Maybe that was why I was here now. Laughter bubbled up thick and deep in his throat, spiraling him into a coughing fit. I could see it then. The way his eyes glowed. Deep amber lanterns that lit the surrounding area just enough to see the wounds that scarped up and down his arm. Or the way he was twisted at an angle. “Suppose it’s fitting, yeah? You being my executioner. Makes sense.” I tipped my head to the side, looking him up and down. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?” But the sound of another pair of footsteps began echoing through the wet depths around us. Turning, I could see a small candle flicker, the light of which began bouncing off the sewage tunnel we were trapped within. “Aw, dear Milo,” the man said. “It’s the circle of life, my friend.” Milo rolled his eyes. “Varyl, you and I weren’t friends back in the day and we’re certainly not now. Got to ask though. Still mad that I’m better than you? Does it hurt that little stone heart of yours that I was still picked for every job while you were stuck cleaning up everyone's shit?” Varyl was an averaged height man aside from the curling horns that nearly scraped the top of the tunnel. He had a narrow face and green eyes that dripped acid like tears. “No, Milo. I’m not mad. Because in the end, you still lose.” “Do I?” Milo shifted. It was subtle but I was used to it. He had done it from time to time. Just a brief displacement of weight. I wisely took a step back. “You’re the one bleeding out. Guess the market is going to have a new Gatekeeper soon.” When Varyl leaned in close, it was with a pointed smile and a bright glee to his eyes. “Tell me. On a scale of one to ten, how good of a fuck was this world? Will I enjoy it?” Milo laughed that boyish laugh he often got in the bars. “Come close and I’ll tell you.” One step was all Milo needed. Varyl ducked his head just enough to step forward, his eyes glancing to where his boot landed. Milo lunged then, pulling the blade from behind his back and shoving it deep into the man’s belly before pulling upwards. Varyl thrashed for a moment but Milo was stronger, holding him against the wall as he wetly gasped. “You want this quick?” he asked. “Because this is going to go two ways. Either you are going to apologize for what you just said, or I’ll keep you alive for the next few hours. I’ll happily stand here until you bleed out.” “Apologize to who?” Varyl snarled. “The market you ignorant bastard.” Twisting the knife, Milo followed the sway of Varyl’s body, leaning forward, lips brushing the man's ear. “Say you’re sorry,” he sang. “Fuck you and that market whore.” “Wrong answer.” Pulling the knife out, Milo kicked the man downwards. A crackling gate opened and just on the other side, I could see a vast stretch of nothingness, monsters calling out in the night. “Bye Varyl. May the Knowing have mercy on your soul.” He kicked him through, shutting the gate and staring at it. “May the Market have mercy on your soul?” he mused. “May $name have mercy on your soul.” He paused, staring at the now closed door. “Yeah. $name would have mercy.” He stumbled as he tried to walk away. The knife slipped from his bloody grip as he made his way down the body strew sewer tunnel and towards the dark. I followed him, not wanting to be left in the dark with the bodies. Milo was silent as he trudged, walking like the tunnel was somehow familiar. When he paused, I thought he was lost. When I heard the gasping sob, I froze. Milo leaned against the wall, one hand bracing himself while the other clutched at his side. The ragged pants of his breath turned into wrecked sobs as he leaned forward, knees almost buckling. [[Walk away]] [[Reach out and try to touch him]] [[Try to talk to him]] “Depends,” I told him. “You going to keep lying?” Everything between us had been a lie. I felt the anger of that moment swarming me more than anything else. I had come down here. I had chosen my fate. But at the end of the day, why had he not told me? I supposed even being the Night Market, I couldn’t get past that. Laughter bubbled up thick and deep in his throat, spiraling him into a coughing fit. I could see it then. The way his eyes glowed. Deep amber lanterns that lit the surrounding area just enough to see the wounds that scarped up and down his arm. Or the way he was twisted at an angle. “Suppose it’s fitting, yeah? You being my executioner. Makes sense.” I tipped my head to the side, looking him up and down. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?” But the sound of another pair of footsteps began echoing through the wet depths around us. Turning, I could see a small candle flicker, the light of which began bouncing off the sewage tunnel we were trapped within. “Aw, dear Milo,” the man said. “It’s the circle of life, my friend.” Milo rolled his eyes. “Varyl, you and I weren’t friends back in the day and we’re certainly not now. Got to ask though. Still mad that I’m better than you? Does it hurt that little stone heart of yours that I was still picked for every job while you were stuck cleaning up everyone's shit?” Varyl was an averaged height man aside from the curling horns that nearly scraped the top of the tunnel. He had a narrow face and green eyes that dripped acid like tears. “No, Milo. I’m not mad. Because in the end, you still lose.” “Do I?” Milo shifted. It was subtle but I was used to it. He had done it from time to time. Just a brief displacement of weight. I wisely took a step back. “You’re the one bleeding out. Guess the market is going to have a new Gatekeeper soon.” When Varyl leaned in close, it was with a pointed smile and a bright glee to his eyes. “Tell me. On a scale of one to ten, how good of a fuck was this world? Will I enjoy it?” Milo laughed that boyish laugh he often got in the bars. “Come close and I’ll tell you.” One step was all Milo needed. Varyl ducked his head just enough to step forward, his eyes glancing to where his boot landed. Milo lunged then, pulling the blade from behind his back and shoving it deep into the man’s belly before pulling upwards. Varyl thrashed for a moment but Milo was stronger, holding him against the wall as he wetly gasped. “You want this quick?” he asked. “Because this is going to go two ways. Either you are going to apologize for what you just said, or I’ll keep you alive for the next few hours. I’ll happily stand here until you bleed out.” “Apologize to who?” Varyl snarled. “The market you ignorant bastard.” Twisting the knife, Milo followed the sway of Varyl’s body, leaning forward, lips brushing the man's ear. “Say you’re sorry,” he sang. “Fuck you and that market whore.” “Wrong answer.” Pulling the knife out, Milo kicked the man downwards. A crackling gate opened and just on the other side, I could see a vast stretch of nothingness, monsters calling out in the night. “Bye Varyl. May the Knowing have mercy on your soul.” He kicked him through, shutting the gate and staring at it. “May the Market have mercy on your soul?” he mused. “May $name have mercy on your soul.” He paused, staring at the now closed door. “Yeah. $name would have mercy.” He stumbled as he tried to walk away. The knife slipped from his bloody grip as he made his way down the body strewn sewer tunnel and towards the dark. I followed him, not wanting to be left in the dark with the bodies. Milo was silent as he trudged, walking like the tunnel was somehow familiar. When he paused, I thought he was lost. When I heard the gasping sob, I froze. Milo leaned against the wall, one hand bracing himself while the other clutched at his side. The ragged pants of his breath turned into wrecked sobs as he leaned forward, knees almost buckling. [[Walk away]] [[Reach out and try to touch him]] [[Try to talk to him]] I didn’t wait. Dream, memory, or a peek into the reality I was no longer a part of. I didn’t care. Milo had made his bed. And I had made mine. I didn’t know where that left us. But when I walked away, I didn’t look back. Tomorrow, the market would still be dark and I would still be gone. Milo could sit alone with his tears. [[Chapter Two]] Hesitantly, I reached out. My own hands shaking as I did. I went to rest my fingers lightly on his shoulder, to show him he was not alone. But my hand simply passed through him. A ghost from beyond, unable to comfort the ones left behind. He was hurt. More than hurt. I could see it in the way he moved. How he favored his left side. The way in which his hitched sobs sounded like glass cracking within his chest. I didn’t know how long he leaned against the wall. The echoing cries of a wounded animal filtered around us as he poured out his grief in the dark where no one could see him. The only place where he felt deserving of showing his own emotions. Then, just like that, he straightened. He wiped the tears from his eyes, gritted his teeth, and let the mask fall in place once more. Slowly, he walked off into the dark, the lantern glow from his eyes fading. I was back in my bed once more. [[Chapter Two]]“Milo, what are you doing?” I whispered sadly. “Why are you down here alone? You should be up top where they can help you.” He was hurt. More than hurt. I could see it in the way he moved. How he favored his left side. The way in which his hitched sobs sounded like glass racking against his chest. I didn’t know how long he leaned against the wall. The echoing cries of a wounded animal filtered around us as he poured out his grief in the dark where no one could see him. The only place where he felt deserving of showing his own emotions. Then, just like that, he straightened. He wiped the tears from his eyes, gritted his teeth, and let the mask fall in place once more. Slowly, he walked off into the dark, the lantern glow from his eyes fading. I was back in my bed once more. [[Chapter Two]] I didn’t recognize the location of the alley. While here, I had wandered somewhat but didn’t think I had ever seen a dead end before. Not unless it was Hazel’s. Most alleyways split off into various districts and roads, some even looping back around on themselves. Walking to the mouth of the alley, I looked up. There was a a wooden archway, wrapped in small twinkling lights. The crooked sign was hand panted. //Artisan Alley//. It didn’t sound familiar. Not even to my higher brain. Though, that didn’t really mean much. For knowing who I was, I seemed to only be able to obtain a certain amount of memories and knowledge at one time. Which, I supposed was for sanity purposes. Taking a step forward, I tried to cross the threshold of the alley and see where it might be located. I stepped over and back into my room. The familiar comforter sitting on my bed, folded just where I left it. “What the…?” I looked around the room, peering back out the window. Everything looked the same. It just seemed that maybe I couldn’t leave. It was new to say the least. <<if $bakery == "false">>[[Investigate the bakery]]<</if>> <<if $cave == "false">>[[Investigate the gem cave]]<</if>> [[Investigate the clock shop]] <<set $artalley to "true">> My home. Mine. In a world where nothing felt as if it belonged to me, I could safely say that this did. Curling up on the bed, I pulled the blanket over me. It was heavy and pushed me into the mattress just enough. My mind floated away before I could even blink. [[Next|chapter one 6]] The alley felt cold. As if the Deep were clawing its way upwards to wrap its icy hold around me once more. In the nonexistent sky, I could see the storm brewing. The way it rolled in unseen, hovering over my world in a clear threat. Wanting to take my people. Problems that were looming on the horizon, ready to snatch me into nothing. “You’re right there.” I whipped around towards the voice and my vision blurred. When I righted myself again, I tripped over the threshold of a door. And suddenly, I was in a small room, a familiar blanket folded on the bed. Motes of dust swirled around me, shining incandescent in the soft sunlight streaming from the windows. The room smelled of baked bread and was warm and comfortable. As I stepped forward, reaching out for the blanket, I couldn’t help feel a wave of soft love. Pulling the comforter towards me, I held it to my chest. [[The blanket was green with fabric buttons|Blanket Color][$blanket to "green with fabric buttons"]] [[The blanket was the color of amber|Blanket Color][$blanket to "amber"]] [[The blanket was colorful and patchwork|Blanket Color][$blanket to "colorful patchwork"]] [[The blanket was velvet and black|Blanket Color][$blanket to "velvet and black"]] [[The blanket was pastel colored and soft|Blanket Color][$blanket to "pastel and soft"]]“You know what?” I asked with a laugh. “Sure. Let’s do this again, Taliesin. Let’s dance.” I took his extended hand, stepping towards him and feeling the way he gripped me back. Because just like me, he was lost in this world. He had no one and was looking for everything. What was that saying I heard once? Keep thy enemies close…? We began to waltz through the room, the grin on Taliesin’s face pleased at such an unexpected turn of events. “I can safely say, this is not quite what I thought this experience would be,” he mused, turning the two of us across the floor. Dancers moved from our path, their bodies bending to our own. “And what did you think would happen?” I still didn’t know why he had crawled into my chest. Why he had teamed up with the Gatekeeper for such a long charade. What was it that this man could possibly desire that was only found within the inner workings of my own mind? “I assumed you weren’t as sentient. That you wouldn’t fight me as much. But look at you. A little market, all grown up. Feeling the big feelings now.” He dipped me, his hand wavering at the small of my back as he stared at the keyhole scar upon my own sternum. “You think he could open it again? Get me out of here?” I raised a brow to the man. “What? You went in here with no escape route?” He grinned. “Like I said. You were not supposed to be this real. Imagine poor little Milo’s shock when you were not a rock.” I shoved him away from me, stumbling backwards. The feel of his hands on me sent my nerves on fire, twisting my stomach in such a way that I thought I would be sick. Taliesin laughed from where he stood, one side of his face beginning to crumble to ash on the floor. “Just let me in, $name. Show me what I want to see.” The bells from his mask fell to his feet, ringing a discordant tune. [[What even is it you want?]] [[You will get nothing from me]] [[Goodbye, Taliesin]]“Fuck you,” I spat at him. I would give this man nothing. I wouldn’t bend to a single whim he had. When I turned to walk out of the ballroom, however, and back to the apothecary, he was right there, holding out his hand again. “Oh, is that the way to treat a guest in your home?” My hand was pulled towards him then, pushed within his own palm. The skin felt weathered beneath mine and while I tried to fight it, our feet began to move in tandem as we waltzed around the room. “I can safely say, this is not quite what I thought this experience would be,” he mused, turning the two of us across the floor. Dancers moved from our path, their bodies bending to our own. “And what did you think would happen?” I still didn’t know why he had crawled into my chest. Why he had teamed up with the Gatekeeper for such a long charade. What was it that this man could possibly desire that was only found within the inner workings of my own mind? “I assumed you weren’t as sentient. That you wouldn’t fight me as much. But look at you. A little market, all grown up. Feeling the big feelings now.” He dipped me, his hand wavering at the small of my back as he stared at the keyhole scar upon my own sternum. “You think he could open it again? Get me out of here?” I raised a brow to the man. “What? You went in here with no escape route?” He grinned. “Like I said. You were not supposed to be this real. Imagine poor little Milo’s shock when you were not a rock.” I shoved him away from me, stumbling backwards. The feel of his hands on me sent my nerves on fire, twisting my stomach in such a way that I thought I would be sick. Taliesin laughed from where he stood, one side of his face beginning to crumble to ash on the floor. “Just let me in, $name. Show me what I want to see.” The bells from his mask fell to his feet, ringing a discordant tune. [[What even is it you want?]] [[You will get nothing from me]] [[Goodbye, Taliesin]]“Stay away from me,” I told him. When I turned to walk out of the ballroom, however, and back to the apothecary, he was right there, holding out his hand again. “Oh, is that the way to treat a guest in your home?” My hand was pulled towards him then, pushed within his own palm. The skin felt weathered beneath mine and while I tried to fight it, our feet began to move in tandem as we waltzed around the room. “I can safely say, this is not quite what I thought this experience would be,” he mused, turning the two of us across the floor. Dancers moved from our path, their bodies bending to our own. “And what did you think would happen?” I still didn’t know why he had crawled into my chest. Why he had teamed up with the Gatekeeper for such a long charade. What was it that this man could possibly desire that was only found within the inner workings of my own mind? “I assumed you weren’t as sentient. That you wouldn’t fight me as much. But look at you. A little market, all grown up. Feeling the big feelings now.” He dipped me, his hand wavering at the small of my back as he stared at the keyhole scar upon my own sternum. “You think he could open it again? Get me out of here?” I raised a brow to the man. “What? You went in here with no escape route?” He grinned. “Like I said. You were not supposed to be this real. Imagine poor little Milo’s shock when you were not a rock.” I shoved him away from me, stumbling backwards. The feel of his hands on me sent my nerves on fire, twisting my stomach in such a way that I thought I would be sick. Taliesin laughed from where he stood, one side of his face beginning to crumble to ash on the floor. “Just let me in, $name. Show me what I want to see.” The bells from his mask fell to his feet, ringing a discordant tune. [[What even is it you want?]] [[You will get nothing from me]] [[Goodbye, Taliesin]]“I don’t even know what it is you want,” I told him. “Your cryptic little dance parties are not revealing.” He laughed. Long and loud and filled with such pain as tears dripped from his cheeks in shards of glass, plinking on the ground. Slowly, he began to disintegrate before me, turning to nothing but crumbling clay. And just like that, he was a heap on the ground for only the wind to claim. The lights around me began to fade, the crystal chandelier loosing its luster and the dancers all fading into a memory once more. Beneath me, the floors shaped itself into cobblestones and one more, I was within the alley way. Within my own mind. Where I was forced to wander without purpose Why did I have such little purpose? [[Next|Chapter One 9]] “You will get nothing from me,” I told him. “You made your choice, Taliesin. You did this to yourself. Now lay in your own bed.” He laughed. Long and loud and filled with such pain as tears dripped from his cheeks in shards of glass, plinking on the ground. Slowly, he began to disintegrate before me, turning to nothing but crumbling clay. And just like that, he was a heap on the ground for only the wind to claim. The lights around me began to fade, the crystal chandelier loosing its luster and the dancers all fading into a memory once more. Beneath me, the floors shaped itself into cobblestones and one more, I was within the alley way. Within my own mind. Where I was forced to wander without purpose Why did I have such little purpose? [[Next|Chapter One 9]] Tipping my head to the side, I crossed my arms. He was nothing. Just a shell of a man desperate for something that he couldn’t even put words to. “Goodbye, Taliesin.” He laughed. Long and loud and filled with such pain as tears dripped from his cheeks in shards of glass, plinking on the ground. Slowly, he began to disintegrate before me, turning to nothing but crumbling clay. And just like that, he was a heap on the ground for only the wind to claim. The lights around me began to fade, the crystal chandelier losing its luster and the dancers all fading into a memory once more. Beneath me, the floors shaped itself into cobblestones and one more, I was within the alley way. Within my own mind. Where I was forced to wander without purpose Why did I have such little purpose? [[Next|Chapter One 9]] “I think I’d rather just wait here. Thank you, though.” There was a certain sort of warriness that came with moving. Like somehow, I was going to be sucked back into the grey alleys of nothingness and be forced to walk through the empty halls of my mind again. I wanted to see Herald coming back around the bend. I wanted to make sure that this was real. “$name, is it?” The baker was stepping forward, smiling softly at me. “This has got to be hard for you. I don’t know much about what’s happened to you but I can see in your eyes that you’re afraid. Or, at the very least, hesitant?” I didn’t answer her. Not sure who I was supposed to even trust. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want but I promise you, Herald is going to return. And in the meantime, you should wait for him in comfort. You look like the sort that could maybe use some. And my pies are magical.” [[Are you a witch?]] [[I’ll go have some pie]] [[I lived with a witch so I just need to check. Is the pie drugged?]]“Pie?” I didn’t know what I was expecting but the sentence ending in an offering of pie was just not it. “Yes,” she nodded eagerly. “Pie. Lot’s of pie? Or, if you are not a pie person, I have cakes. Cakes, eclairs, baklava, rocklava, stonelava, custard, tarts, parts, starts. You name it and I have it.” “I don’t even know what half of what you said is,” I told her. Her eyes widened to an almost comical extent, the glitter dusted across the apples of her cheeks glowing in the green light. “Oh, well do I have a treat for you. Come on in. We’ll start with pie and then we’ll move on from there.” I glanced at the alleyway. I knew that with the windows, Herald would find me immediately. But it didn’t keep me from wanting to stand right there and watch for him coming. “$name, is it?” Kimber’s voice softened. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want but I promise you, Herald is going to return. And in the meantime, you should wait for him in comfort. You look like the sort that could maybe use some. And my pies are magical.” [[Are you a witch?]] [[I’ll go have some pie]] [[I lived with a witch so I just need to check. Is the pie drugged?]] I looked out into the night. Herald had said he would track $RO down. Tell them I was here. In all honesty, I was expecting this to all be a dream. To wake back up in the grey alleyway, staring at the stitched sky. “I might not be a great conversationalist,” I told her. Talking felt odd for some reason. Especially to strangers. I had gotten used to speaking to $RO and the others but now that I knew I was the Night Market, that I had saved these people, it felt odd to just sit down and have a conversation with them. “Well,” the woman said. “This is the thing I know about pie. It has magical properties. Especially my pie. And it’ll get you talking in absolutely no time.” [[Are you a witch?]] [[I’ll go have some pie]] [[I lived with a witch so I just need to check. Is the pie drugged?]]“Are you a witch?” she didn’t look like a witch. Not that I really thought there was a certain aesthetic to witches. At this point, anyone with magic might just count as one. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Though, I try not to put labels on anything. It’s all just life’s flavor text and I don’t really want to be known as anything other than me. Although, yes, there is magic in my pies. Is that a problem? You’re not allergic to magic, right?” “No. I’m not allergic to magic.” “Oh good,” she sighed. “I met someone the other day that was allergic to magic. They took one bite of a cupcake and just sneezed and sneezed and sneezed until their nose fell off entirely. Felt so bad for them.” I couldn’t quite tell if she was telling the truth or not but given her grave expression, I was almost inclined to believe her. [[I think I’ll just wait for Herald, if it’s all the same]] [[Go in and have pie]] [[These magic laws really need to be readdressed. No one follows them]] I wasn’t sure how anyone was going to be able to deny this woman. She looked up at me with such pure honesty and hope. Like my decision on pie was somehow going to be the most important decision of her day. “I’ll go have some pie,” I told her. She pressed herself up on her toes, grinning widely. “Oh, you will not regret it. My pie is known through the lands. Actually, that’s not true. I come from a horrid little bombed out city where you couldn’t even make pie without ash in it so I am not known for pie there but I think I could become known for pie here. Night Market Pie. NM Pie. Lanternless Pie? Oh! Dark Pie. No. Sounds too evil.” She was tapping her chin, muttering to herself. When she looked back up at me, it was as if she had forgotten I was there. “Oh! Pie! That’s right. Come on then. Come on inside and partake in baked goods. I find it’s the best way to pass the time.” [[I think I’ll just wait for Herald, if it’s all the same]] [[Go in and have pie]] [[These magic laws really need to be readdressed. No one follows them]] I thought of Hazel. About her teas and the smell of magic that permeated the air most mornings. The ways she slipped tonics within drinks and food whenever she felt like someone might need it. How easily women like her could poison another. “I lived with a witch before this so I’ve kind of got to ask. Is the pie drugged?” Her milky brown eyes went wide in shock. “What? No! Oh! No. No. Absolutely no. I’m not even magic. Well, I’m a little magic but not witch magic. Plus I’m told magic is a big no no here. Like the arrestable kind of no no. And I’m nothing but on the up and up. Good citizen now. One of the stalwart and true ones.” She looked nervous. “Are you going to tell your Warden friend?” I raised a brow at her. “How did you know I knew the Warden?” “I was eavesdropping on you and Herald before he left. I’m sorry! I know that makes me completely duplicitous and I’d understand if you’d never want to talk to me again but…” she trailed off, looking over her shoulder. “Pie?” [[I think I’ll just wait for Herald, if it’s all the same]] [[Go in and have pie]] [[Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell the Warden]] “I think I’ll just wait for Herald,” I told her. It felt like if I moved, I would miss him somehow. Like he would pass by the opening of the alley and my moment would pass me by. Like $Ro would be taken from the tentative grasp I was trying to maintain. How easily such a moment felt like sand through my fingers. “Okay,” I heard the voice say from behind me. “I understand.” There was a shifting and a moment where the alley felt unnaturally silent. Like the alley itself was holding its breath with me. “I’m Kimber, by the way.” I glanced at the woman. “You hadn’t asked and I thought it would be weird if we didn’t introduce ourselves since we’re neighbors now. I know you’re $name. So that also felt weird that I knew your name and you didn’t really know mine.” Kimber was golden skinned with honey brown hair shot through with gold. Her eyes were a flat brown but she had small little moles that dotted her face, bringing out the color. Her body was plush, but her arms were toned from picking up sacks of flour all day. By far, she was one of the shortest people I had ever seen. Looking to be just around four feet. I didn’t know what to say to her babbling. I couldn't even tell if she was upset or if this was just in her nature. “Anyway,” Kimber said. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” “Thanks,” I said. She gave me a small smile before heading inside. I turned my eyes dutifully back to the alley. How long did it take to go tell $Ro I was back? Shouldn’t Herald be back by now? Had something gone wrong? “Might want to calm it down, honey.” A voice called out from above. Looking up, I saw the man from earlier. The one with the stick straight black hair and the silk robe wrapped around him. He was leaning over the fire escape that connected some of the buildings. “You’re causing the alley to tremble.” I frowned, looking down. Small pebbles skittered across the cobblestones. [[Sorry]] [[Guess my emotions are a bit more potent now]] [[Better this than explosions]] “You know what? Sure. No sense in waiting out here.” I might as well be doing something while I waited. It would at least make the time go by a bit faster. “I’m Kimber, by the by,” the baker said with a grin. She had a wide and toothy smile with a small gap in her front teeth. “$name.” Kimber was golden skinned with honey brown hair shot through with gold. Her eyes were a flat brown but she had small little moles that dotted her face, bringing out the color. Her body was plush, but her arms were toned from picking up sacks of flour all day. By far, she was one of the shortest people I had ever seen. Looking to be just around four feet. I followed her into the bakery, squinting as the light assaulted me. The chandeliers above were all made from bright burning cylinders. A type of magic I didn’t often see within the Night Market. The shop had emptied out from when I had peeked in last. Kimber had sent most of the patrons home. As they had left the alley I heard them whispering to each other, speaking of the goblins and the way the floor had fallen out from under everyone. “Take a seat,” she said with a grin. “I’ll get you the best piece of pie I have.” She stopped halfway to the kitchen, twirling on her right foot. “Do you have any allergies? Food requests? What is your favorite piece of pie? Are you fae?” [[What does being fae have to do with it?]] [[I like berry pies]] [[I like meat pies]] [[You don’t know what I am?]] With one last look at the alley, I turned to her. “I’ll manage to keep this secret from the Warden. Somehow.” The words shook me. It was as if time had not passed. As if seeing Gabriel was something that happened quite frequently. My brain felt clouded with the idea of it. So much time had passed and yet it felt like none at all. “I’m Kimber, by the by,” the baker said with a grin. She had a wide and toothy smile with a small gap in her front teeth. “$name.” Kimber was golden skinned with honey brown hair shot through with gold. Her eyes were a flat brown but she had small little moles that dotted her face, bringing out the color. Her body was plush, but her arms were toned from picking up sacks of flour all day. By far, she was one of the shortest people I had ever seen. Looking to be just around four feet. I followed her into the bakery, squinting as the light assaulted me. The chandeliers above were all made from bright burning cylinders. A type of magic I didn’t often see within the Night Market. The shop had emptied out from when I had peeked in last. Kimber had sent most of the patrons home. As they had left the alley I heard them whispering to each other, speaking of the goblins and the way the floor had fallen out from under everyone. “Take a seat,” she said with a grin. “I’ll get you the best piece of pie I have.” She stopped halfway to the kitchen, twirling on her right foot. “Do you have any allergies? Food requests? What is your favorite piece of pie? Are you fae?” [[What does being fae have to do with it?]] [[I like berry pies]] [[I like meat pies]] [[You don’t know what I am?]]“Okay,” I said with a small sigh. “These magic laws need to be addressed. They’re ridiculous to begin with and it's clear that no one abides by them.” “No,” the woman said with wide eyes. “I have the upmost respect for the law. Good, magic abiding citizen. Only using trinkets and um– whatever else gives you magic around here.” “You don’t need to worry,” I told her. “I actually like magic. It’s the guard that put everything in place.” Not me. “Right,” she said with a bit of relief. “I’m Kimber, by the by,” the baker said with a grin. She had a wide and toothy smile with a small gap in her front teeth. “$name.” Kimber was golden skinned with honey brown hair shot through with gold. Her eyes were a flat brown but she had small little moles that dotted her face, bringing out the color. Her body was plush, but her arms were toned from picking up sacks of flour all day. By far, she was one of the shortest people I had ever seen. Looking to be just around four feet. I followed her into the bakery, squinting as the light assaulted me. The chandeliers above were all made from bright burning cylinders. A type of magic I didn’t often see within the Night Market. The shop had emptied out from when I had peeked in last. Kimber had sent most of the patrons home. As they had left the alley I heard them whispering to each other, speaking of the goblins and the way the floor had fallen out from under everyone. “Take a seat,” she said with a grin. “I’ll get you the best piece of pie I have.” She stopped halfway to the kitchen, twirling on her right foot. “Do you have any allergies? Food requests? What is your favorite piece of pie? Are you fae?” [[What does being fae have to do with it?]] [[I like berry pies]] [[I like meat pies]] [[You don’t know what I am?]]“What exactly does being fae have to do with pie?” I asked curiously. “Oh, uh– I just need to make sure you’re not unseelie. No worries though. Forget I mentioned it.” She disappeared off into the kitchen, leaving me to take a seat at an oak round table that gleamed under the light. The bakery was clean and bright with buttery walls and beautiful wood accents. Other than the floor to ceiling windows, there was one wall that looked as if it opened up to a wide open courtyard. I could see some over large seats out there along with a trashcan. When someone dipped their head down, one green eye taking up the entirety of the window opening, I startled. “Uh, Kimber?” I called, watching as the eye directed itself towards me. “I think you have a customer.” The baker came running in on her short legs, skidding to a stop just outside the window. Hands on her hips she made a tsking noise under her breath before going over to grab a wood stool and place it below the window. With some difficulty, she climbed up on it, latching onto a large crank for balance before she started turning its wheel. It took her entire body to get the window to open, the glass folding upwards in a strange crease. The night wind brought in the faint scent of mulberries along with a cool swirl of overturned earth. “Sorry, Carl,” Kimber said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “There’s a lot going on today. I forgot that you were still stopping by.” The large man, Carl, ducked his head even further downwards but even then, I could only see half of his face. “Sorry, Kimber,” he breathed, the force of his words blowing back her hair. “I should have sent a message.” “Of course not, Carl,” Kimber said. “I said your cannolis would be done by first lantern bell and they are. You just take that crate over there, alright? And I packed a bit extra in there for the new babe. How is Fie doing? Did you need me to send over more casseroles?” If possible, the giant blushed. “Aw, no, Kimber. Thank you so much but we got it under control. Little Nilly is eating full raw steaks now so I’ll have to go elsewhere.” “Well you bring the family by next time, okay? I would love to just see you three. And Iblis would love to play.” “Will do, Kimber,” he said, lumbering to his feet. I only saw a hand reach down and grab the crate. It looked like a small package in his palm. “Have a good day. Payment is in the box.” “Bye Carl.” Hopping up, she began winding down the window again, closing it up tight. [[That was a giant]] [[Handy mechanism you have there]] [[Doesn’t that lead to the Outlands?]]“I like berry pies. I think.” I wasn’t sure if I had really tried a ton of pies at this point. Hazel certainly baked but she was far more prone to making soups and teas. The pies cooling on the window sills had always tasted good when I managed to sneak a taste of them, however. “Berry pie it is!” She disappeared off into the kitchen, leaving me to take a seat at an oak round table that gleamed under the light. The bakery was clean and bright with buttery walls and beautiful wood accents. Other than the floor to ceiling windows, there was one wall that looked as if it opened up to a wide open courtyard. I could see some over large seats out there along with a trashcan. When someone dipped their head down, one green eye taking up the entirety of the window opening, I startled. “Uh, Kimber?” I called, watching as the eye directed itself towards me. “I think you have a customer.” The baker came running in on her short legs, skidding to a stop just outside the window. Hands on her hips she made a tsking noise under her breath before going over to grab a wood stool and place it below the window. With some difficulty, she climbed up on it, latching onto a large crank for balance before she started turning its wheel. It took her entire body to get the window to open, the glass folding upwards in a strange crease. The night wind brought in the faint scent of mulberries along with a cool swirl of overturned earth. “Sorry, Carl,” Kimber said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “There’s a lot going on today. I forgot that you were still stopping by.” The large man, Carl, ducked his head even further downwards but even then, I could only see half of his face. “Sorry, Kimber,” he breathed, the force of his words blowing back her hair. “I should have sent a message.” “Of course not, Carl,” Kimber said. “I said your cannolis would be done by first lantern bell and they are. You just take that crate over there, alright? And I packed a bit extra in there for the new babe. How is Fie doing? Did you need me to send over more casseroles?” If possible, the giant blushed. “Aw, no, Kimber. Thank you so much but we got it under control. Little Nilly is eating full raw steaks now so I’ll have to go elsewhere.” “Well you bring the family by next time, okay? I would love to just see you three. And Iblis would love to play.” “Will do, Kimber,” he said, lumbering to his feet. I only saw a hand reach down and grab the crate. It looked like a small package in his palm. “Have a good day. Payment is in the box.” “Bye Carl.” Hopping up, she began winding down the window again, closing it up tight. [[That was a giant]] [[Handy mechanism you have there]] [[Doesn’t that lead to the Outlands?]]“Meat pies?” I asked. “I kind of like more savory foods.” “Oh, I love meat pies! Real meat pies, that is. I’ll go see what I can scrounge up.” She disappeared off into the kitchen, leaving me to take a seat at an oak round table that gleamed under the light. The bakery was clean and bright with buttery walls and beautiful wood accents. Other than the floor to ceiling windows, there was one wall that looked as if it opened up to a wide open courtyard. I could see some over large seats out there along with a trashcan. When someone dipped their head down, one green eye taking up the entirety of the window opening, I startled. “Uh, Kimber?” I called, watching as the eye directed itself towards me. “I think you have a customer.” The baker came running in on her short legs, skidding to a stop just outside the window. Hands on her hips she made a tsking noise under her breath before going over to grab a wood stool and place it below the window. With some difficulty, she climbed up on it, latching onto a large crank for balance before she started turning its wheel. It took her entire body to get the window to open, the glass folding upwards in a strange crease. The night wind brought in the faint scent of mulberries along with a cool swirl of overturned earth. “Sorry, Carl,” Kimber said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “There’s a lot going on today. I forgot that you were still stopping by.” The large man, Carl, ducked his head even further downwards but even then, I could only see half of his face. “Sorry, Kimber,” he breathed, the force of his words blowing back her hair. “I should have sent a message.” “Of course not, Carl,” Kimber said. “I said your cannolis would be done by first lantern bell and they are. You just take that crate over there, alright? And I packed a bit extra in there for the new babe. How is Fie doing? Did you need me to send over more casseroles?” If possible, the giant blushed. “Aw, no, Kimber. Thank you so much but we got it under control. Little Nilly is eating full raw steaks now so I’ll have to go elsewhere.” “Well you bring the family by next time, okay? I would love to just see you three. And Iblis would love to play.” “Will do, Kimber,” he said, lumbering to his feet. I only saw a hand reach down and grab the crate. It looked like a small package in his palm. “Have a good day. Payment is in the box.” “Bye Carl.” Hopping up, she began winding down the window again, closing it up tight. [[That was a giant]] [[Handy mechanism you have there]] [[Doesn’t that lead to the Outlands?]]“You don’t know what I am?” I asked her. I don’t know why but I assumed that everyone would have known who I was by now. I almost expected it to be branded on my forehead somehow. “All I know is you got some pretty nifty talents,” Kimber said. “And that goblins don’t like you much. Now sit. Why don’t I bring you a little bit of everything? I have a sampler plate that I think you’d really like.” She disappeared off into the kitchen, leaving me to take a seat at an oak round table that gleamed under the light. The bakery was clean and bright with buttery walls and beautiful wood accents. Other than the floor to ceiling windows, there was one wall that looked as if it opened up to a wide open courtyard. I could see some over large seats out there along with a trashcan. When someone dipped their head down, one green eye taking up the entirety of the window opening, I startled. “Uh, Kimber?” I called, watching as the eye directed itself towards me. “I think you have a customer.” The baker came running in on her short legs, skidding to a stop just outside the window. Hands on her hips she made a tsking noise under her breath before going over to grab a wood stool and place it below the window. With some difficulty, she climbed up on it, latching onto a large crank for balance before she started turning its wheel. It took her entire body to get the window to open, the glass folding upwards in a strange crease. The night wind brought in the faint scent of mulberries along with a cool swirl of overturned earth. “Sorry, Carl,” Kimber said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “There’s a lot going on today. I forgot that you were still stopping by.” The large man, Carl, ducked his head even further downwards but even then, I could only see half of his face. “Sorry, Kimber,” he breathed, the force of his words blowing back her hair. “I should have sent a message.” “Of course not, Carl,” Kimber said. “I said your cannolis would be done by first lantern bell and they are. You just take that crate over there, alright? And I packed a bit extra in there for the new babe. How is Fie doing? Did you need me to send over more casseroles?” If possible, the giant blushed. “Aw, no, Kimber. Thank you so much but we got it under control. Little Nilly is eating full raw steaks now so I’ll have to go elsewhere.” “Well you bring the family by next time, okay? I would love to just see you three. And Iblis would love to play.” “Will do, Kimber,” he said, lumbering to his feet. I only saw a hand reach down and grab the crate. It looked like a small package in his palm. “Have a good day. Payment is in the box.” “Bye Carl.” Hopping up, she began winding down the window again, closing it up tight. [[That was a giant]] [[Handy mechanism you have there]] [[Doesn’t that lead to the Outlands?]]“Sorry,” I muttered. I didn’t really know quite what I was doing yet and knew I needed to take a moment to figure out just what all my new body entailed. But I kept looking at the mouth of the alley, waiting for Herald. “Well, as far as apologies go, that was mediocre.” There was a clang of metal as the man from above came sauntering down, stepping lightly onto the cobblestones and tightening the robe to his belt as he approached. I felt a wave of heat come over me as my skin prickled at his presence. “Sawyer, at your service,” he said with a flourished bow. “$name,” I told him. “$name. Such a lovely name.” Reaching out, he took my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles. I felt a strange shiver of magic cross over me. “Will you be moving into our humble little alley of love and artistic endeavor?” I glanced at the little apartment down the way. “I am assuming so.” “Your presence will light our little alley with the amber hues of morn.” He stopped, looking up at the broken lanterns. “Figuratively speaking.” Dropping my hand, he began walking the width of the alley, nearly strutting as if the cobblestones were his own personal catwalk. Stopping, he struck a pose, looking at me over his shoulder with a wink. “Now, why are you just standing out here instead of going inside where it is warm and there is food.” “I’m waiting for Herald,” I told him. “He was fetching someone for me.” “Mmm,” he mused. “And so that requires you to pace the alley?” “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” “For a good reason,” he winked. I noticed how he kept looking over his shoulder at the gem cave. Despite no one seeming to look back. “Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Whatever task you have sent Herald on, he shall succeed in. It is your job now to keep that tush of yours corporeal.” “I don’t know how I did it to begin with,” I told him. His shoulders dropped as he turned to look at me fully. “You don’t? Well, have you tried manipulating anything around you. I mean, aside from the entire goblin falling through the floor thing? Make something out of nothing.” [[Is the apartment down the way not enough]] [[Like what?]] [[I can’t just snap my fingers and create something]] “I guess my emotions are a bit more potent now,” I told him. Before, I knew I had occasionally affected the weather patterns. The more my body was beginning to die, the more confused I had become, the colder the market got. It seemed to extend further now and I would have to be careful of that in the future. “Just don’t cause the sun to rise. I like the dark. Does great for my complexion.” There was a clang of metal as the man from above came sauntering down, stepping lightly onto the cobblestones and tightening the robe to his belt as he approached. I felt a wave of heat come over me as my skin prickled at his presence. “Sawyer, at your service,” he said with a flourished bow. “$name,” I told him. “$name. Such a lovely name.” Reaching out, he took my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles. I felt a strange shiver of magic cross over me. “Will you be moving into our humble little alley of love and artistic endeavor?” I glanced at the little apartment down the way. “I am assuming so.” “Your presence will light our little alley with the amber hues of morn.” He stopped, looking up at the broken lanterns. “Figuratively speaking.” Dropping my hand, he began walking the width of the alley, nearly strutting as if the cobblestones were his own personal catwalk. Stopping, he struck a pose, looking at me over his shoulder with a wink. “Now, why are you just standing out here instead of going inside where it is warm and there is food.” “I’m waiting for Herald,” I told him. “He was fetching someone for me.” “Mmm,” he mused. “And so that requires you to pace the alley?” “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” “For a good reason,” he winked. I noticed how he kept looking over his shoulder at the gem cave. Despite no one seeming to look back. “Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Whatever task you have sent Herald on, he shall succeed in. It is your job now to keep that tush of yours corporeal.” “I don’t know how I did it to begin with,” I told him. His shoulders dropped as he turned to look at me fully. “You don’t? Well, have you tried manipulating anything around you. I mean, aside from the entire goblin falling through the floor thing? Make something out of nothing.” [[Is the apartment down the way not enough]] [[Like what?]] [[I can’t just snap my fingers and create something]] I shrugged a little. “Better this than explosions, I guess.” “Now that is looking on the bright side.” There was a clang of metal as the man from above came sauntering down, stepping lightly onto the cobblestones and tightening the robe to his belt as he approached. I felt a wave of heat come over me as my skin prickled at his presence. “Sawyer, at your service,” he said with a flourished bow. “$name,” I told him. “$name. Such a lovely name.” Reaching out, he took my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles. I felt a strange shiver of magic cross over me. “Will you be moving into our humble little alley of love and artistic endeavor?” I glanced at the little apartment down the way. “I am assuming so.” “Your presence will light our little alley with the amber hues of morn.” He stopped, looking up at the broken lanterns. “Figuratively speaking.” Dropping my hand, he began walking the width of the alley, nearly strutting as if the cobblestones were his own personal catwalk. Stopping, he struck a pose, looking at me over his shoulder with a wink. “Now, why are you just standing out here instead of going inside where it is warm and there is food.” “I’m waiting for Herald,” I told him. “He was fetching someone for me.” “Mmm,” he mused. “And so that requires you to pace the alley?” “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” “For a good reason,” he winked. I noticed how he kept looking over his shoulder at the gem cave. Despite no one seeming to look back. “Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Whatever task you have sent Herald on, he shall succeed in. It is your job now to keep that tush of yours corporeal.” “I don’t know how I did it to begin with,” I told him. His shoulders dropped as he turned to look at me fully. “You don’t? Well, have you tried manipulating anything around you. I mean, aside from the entire goblin falling through the floor thing? Make something out of nothing.” [[Is the apartment down the way not enough]] [[Like what?]] [[I can’t just snap my fingers and create something]]“That was a giant,” I said. Not just one of the ones that wandered the market occasionally but a real giant. The kind that left craters in the ground by taking a stroll. I had no memory of them. I didn’t think it was often that they came into the market proper. “That was a Carl,” she corrected. “Lovely customer of mine. One of my first in fact. But boy oh boy does he love his cannolis.” Pushing her stool away, Kimber came to sit down at the table next to me, smiling broadly. While I stared awkwardly back at her. “Uh, weren’t you supposed to go get pie?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh, I am so sorry. I’m so forgetful sometimes. I’d lose my head if I didn’t know it was on my shoulders. Which I know isn’t the phrase but have you seen some of the people within the market? Their heads are for sure not attached to their shoulders. Some of them. Not all of them.” She bit her lip. “Is that not nice to say? I’m still learning the customs here. Very very new to the Night Market. I didn’t even open this bakery six months ago. I’m lucky that most of the walls around here remained pretty stationary so people could come and go because that would have just killed my business right after opening. They say that something like ninety-four percent of businesses just go belly up their first year. I don’t know if I believe it but I really didn’t want to take any chances.” [[Ninety-four percent?]] [[I wouldn’t take the chance either]] [[Right. But the pie?]] I looked at the window and the way the glass folded and unfolded. “Handy little mechanism you have there.” Kimber nodded. “It’s necessary,” she said. “I serve a lot of very big clientele and if I tried to get them to come into the bakery not only do I think some things would break but I am almost positive that some of my customers would get a little nervous. There’s quite the fear of being stepped on, you know.” Pushing her stool away, Kimber came to sit down at the table next to me, smiling broadly. While I stared awkwardly back at her. “Uh, weren’t you supposed to go get pie?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh, I am so sorry. I’m so forgetful sometimes. I’d lose my head if I didn’t know it was on my shoulders. Which I know isn’t the phrase but have you seen some of the people within the market? Their heads are for sure not attached to their shoulders. Some of them. Not all of them.” She bit her lip. “Is that not nice to say? I’m still learning the customs here. Very very new to the Night Market. I didn’t even open this bakery six months ago. I’m lucky that most of the walls around here remained pretty stationary so people could come and go because that would have just killed my business right after opening. They say that something like ninety-four percent of businesses just go belly up their first year. I don’t know if I believe it but I really didn’t want to take any chances.” [[Ninety-four percent?]] [[I wouldn’t take the chance either]] [[Right. But the pie?]]“Doesn’t that lead to the Outlands?” Beyond the dark little courtyard was a wooden gate that led to darkness. And while the entirety of the market was cast in shadow now, there was a completely different kind of darkness that was the Outlands. The lanternless world there was made of pitch. “It does. Carl lives in a small village out there. He just had a baby a few weeks ago. When Fie went into labor the ground shook and a mountain grew.” I looked out towards the dark and felt nothing. My lanterns had never reached there. I had never been able to see what meandered in the dark. Even the memories that swelled out beyond had never been accessible to me. Pushing her stool away, Kimber came to sit down at the table next to me, smiling broadly. While I stared awkwardly back at her. “Uh, weren’t you supposed to go get pie?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh, I am so sorry. I’m so forgetful sometimes. I’d lose my head if I didn’t know it was on my shoulders. Which I know isn’t the phrase but have you seen some of the people within the market? Their heads are for sure not attached to their shoulders. Some of them. Not all of them.” She bit her lip. “Is that not nice to say? I’m still learning the customs here. Very very new to the Night Market. I didn’t even open this bakery six months ago. I’m lucky that most of the walls around here remained pretty stationary so people could come and go because that would have just killed my business right after opening. They say that something like ninety-four percent of businesses just go belly up their first year. I don’t know if I believe it but I really didn’t want to take any chances.” [[Ninety-four percent?]] [[I wouldn’t take the chance either]] [[Right. But the pie?]]“Ninety-four percent seems like an awfully high number.” “How many businesses have you seen around here that survive after a year? They either up and move or just disappear entirely. Or so I’ve heard. Honestly, I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to travel everywhere within the market. Just certain districts. And I’ve only been here six months so I don’t actually know if stalls last more than a year or not.” She was smiling, bobbing her own head at her words. That is, until her eyes went wide and she tumbled off her stool. “Pie!” she screeched. I didn’t know what to think as I stared at her retreating form. This tiny little woman who was an enigma all on her own. She reminded me a bit of Hazel in a way. If Hazel was filled with far more energy and wasn’t a recluse. Off to the right, a small giggle sounded, shifting my attention. I could still hear Kimber in the kitchen but the childlike coo from the corner of the room was beckoning me. A small boy sat beneath a table with razor sharp teeth and pale blue eyes. He looked barely any older than two and was hiding beneath the chairs, staring at me from behind a set of blocks. Magic pulsed from him, though I couldn’t discern the kind. The blocks began floating though, stacking on top of each other and making him go cross-eyed with the effort to get them just perfect. [[For locked doors, a lot of people sure sneak in]] [[Kimber! There’s a small creature in your shop!]] [[Get down and beckon the baby forward]]“I wouldn’t take the chance either,” I told her. “Especially with the amount of different cultures we have here. I think we are currently at two hundred thousand different ethnicities.” “Are we really?” she asked in awe. “I have a little log book where I journal about the new individuals I meet. I just love sitting and talking with them about what they remember about their world. It’s why I always give out a free piece of pie. Pie does wonders with opening people up.” Her eyes went wide as she nearly stumbled off the stool. “Oh, by the lands! Your pie!” I didn’t know what to think as I stared at her retreating form. This tiny little woman who was an enigma all on her own. She reminded me a bit of Hazel in a way. If Hazel was filled with far more energy and wasn’t a recluse. Off to the right, a small giggle sounded, shifting my attention. I could still hear Kimber in the kitchen but the childlike coo from the corner of the room was beckoning me. A small boy sat beneath a table with razor sharp teeth and pale blue eyes. He looked barely any older than two and was hiding beneath the chairs, staring at me from behind a set of blocks. Magic pulsed from him, though I couldn’t discern the kind. The blocks began floating though, stacking on top of each other and making him go cross-eyed with the effort to get them just perfect. [[For locked doors, a lot of people sure sneak in]] [[Kimber! There’s a small creature in your shop!]] [[Get down and beckon the baby forward]]“Uh huh. But um…. The pie?” “Oh shit!” She nearly fell off her chair as she ran to the kitchen. “The pie!” I didn’t know what to think as I stared at her retreating form. This tiny little woman who was an enigma all on her own. She reminded me a bit of Hazel in a way. If Hazel was filled with far more energy and wasn’t a recluse. Off to the right, a small giggle sounded, shifting my attention. I could still hear Kimber in the kitchen but the childlike coo from the corner of the room was beckoning me. A small boy sat beneath a table with razor sharp teeth and pale blue eyes. He looked barely any older than two and was hiding beneath the chairs, staring at me from behind a set of blocks. Magic pulsed from him, though I couldn’t discern the kind. The blocks began floating though, stacking on top of each other and making him go cross-eyed with the effort to get them just perfect. [[For locked doors, a lot of people sure sneak in]] [[Kimber! There’s a small creature in your shop!]] [[Get down and beckon the baby forward]]“I know I saw her lock the doors,” I mumbled to myself. Kimber had sent everyone away and yet here was yet another person. In the span of only a few minutes. I was beginning to get a good idea of just how popular Kimber’s little bakery had become in the last six months. “Iblis! You cannot keep running off like that.” The back door banged open prior to the voice that called out to the little boy. Iblis. A man stood there with a bewildered expression. One that landed on the child hiding beneath the table. The little boy grabbed his ankles, rolling to and fro in a peal of giggles. Each block scattered from him, bouncing across the bakery floor and coming to a stop at the black slippered feet of a man. Said man looked none too amused as he stared down at Iblis with a comically angered face. “No. No block throwing today, Mr. It is bath time. You haven’t taken one since the dawn of time and your clothes are starting to become stiff with crust.” Only then did he seem to notice I was standing in the room. His anger melted away as he looked at me with a sultry smile. “Why hello. You’re the one who saved us from those dastardly ghouls out there, are you not?” I suddenly felt hot under the collar as I was drawn to this man. Like I had never experienced warmth of pleasure a day in my life. It snapped off just as quickly as it came, however, leaving me reeling to just stare at him. “Oh, Sawyer!” Kimber said. “We were just about to have pie!” Sawyer turned from me as Kimber came out of the kitchen. I couldn’t even see her with the height of the counter. Only a small reflection of her appeared through the clear glass of the display case. Sawyer rushed over, taking the platter. “Well, I’m glad someone here is giving this little Market something good to eat.” I blinked at him. “You know I’m the market?” “Oh yes! Got all the sordid little gossip from Turner poo the moment you reshaped the alley all on your lonesome. He doesn’t believe a lick of it but he’s a boring old sort ever since getting with Herald. Lost his sense of whimsy.” Kimber rolled her eyes. “Sawyer, he’s just cautious.” “Pish,” Sawyer said. Then, holding out the platter to me. “Pie?” [[I’m getting concerned with the emphasis on pie]] [[You’re all a really friendly bunch]] [[Is Iblis your son?]]“Kimber,” I yelled. “There’s a small creature in your shop.” The boy morphed before my eyes, his nose lengthening and his hair becoming a bit longer. His magic washed over me in a warm pulse. “Iblis! You cannot keep running off like that.” The back door banged open prior to the voice that called out to the little boy. Iblis. A man stood there with a bewildered expression. One that landed on the child hiding beneath the table. The little boy grabbed his ankles, rolling to and fro in a peal of giggles. Each block scattered from him, bouncing across the bakery floor and coming to a stop at the black slippered feet of a man. Said man looked none too amused as he stared down at Iblis with a comically angered face. “No. No block throwing today, Mr. It is bath time. You haven’t taken one since the dawn of time and your clothes are starting to become stiff with crust.” Only then did he seem to notice I was standing in the room. His anger melted away as he looked at me with a sultry smile. “Why hello. You’re the one who saved us from those dastardly ghouls out there, are you not?” I suddenly felt hot under the collar as I was drawn to this man. Like I had never experienced warmth of pleasure a day in my life. It snapped off just as quickly as it came, however, leaving me reeling to just stare at him. “Oh, Sawyer!” Kimber said. “We were just about to have pie!” Sawyer turned from me as Kimber came out of the kitchen. I couldn’t even see her with the height of the counter. Only a small reflection of her appeared through the clear glass of the display case. Sawyer rushed over, taking the platter. “Well, I’m glad someone here is giving this little Market something good to eat.” I blinked at him. “You know I’m the market?” “Oh yes! Got all the sordid little gossip from Turner poo the moment you reshaped the alley all on your lonesome. He doesn’t believe a lick of it but he’s a boring old sort ever since getting with Herald. Lost his sense of whimsy.” Kimber rolled her eyes. “Sawyer, he’s just cautious.” “Pish,” Sawyer said. Then, holding out the platter to me. “Pie?” [[I’m getting concerned with the emphasis on pie]] [[You’re all a really friendly bunch]] [[Is Iblis your son?]] Sliding from my seat, I held out my hand to the little guy. “Hello,” I whispered. “Are you lost?” His grin stretched wider, showing a double set of teeth behind bloodless lips. He babbled something back at me but it was nothing that I could make out. It was baby talk at its finest but he seemed to be understanding everything I was saying to him. “You can come out,” I told him. “I know things got a bit scary out there but you don’t have to be afraid.” The kid giggled at me as if what I was saying was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Either that, or the pounding of feet that was now echoing through the room was causing him delight. Behind me, a door burst open and the man I had seen from the balcony before stood there. “Iblis! You cannot keep running off like that.” The little boy grabbed his ankles, rolling to and fro in a peal of giggles. Each block scattered from him, bouncing across the bakery floor and coming to a stop at the black slippered feet of a man. Said man looked none too amused as he stared down at Iblis with a comically angered face. “No. No block throwing today, Mr. It is bath time. You haven’t taken one since the dawn of time and your clothes are starting to become stiff with crust.” Only then did he seem to notice I was standing in the room. His anger melted away as he looked at me with a sultry smile. “Why hello. You’re the one who saved us from those dastardly ghouls out there, are you not?” I suddenly felt hot under the collar as I was drawn to this man. Like I had never experienced warmth of pleasure a day in my life. It snapped off just as quickly as it came, however, leaving me reeling to just stare at him. “Oh, Sawyer!” Kimber said. “We were just about to have pie!” Sawyer turned from me as Kimber came out of the kitchen. I couldn’t even see her with the height of the counter. Only a small reflection of her appeared through the clear glass of the display case. Sawyer rushed over, taking the platter. “Well, I’m glad someone here is giving this little Market something good to eat.” I blinked at him. “You know I’m the market?” “Oh yes! Got all the sordid little gossip from Turner poo the moment you reshaped the alley all on your lonesome. He doesn’t believe a lick of it but he’s a boring old sort ever since getting with Herald. Lost his sense of whimsy.” Kimber rolled her eyes. “Sawyer, he’s just cautious.” “Pish,” Sawyer said. Then, holding out the platter to me. “Pie?” [[I’m getting concerned with the emphasis on pie]] [[You’re all a really friendly bunch]] [[Is Iblis your son?]] I stared at the two new people. Sawyer and Kimber. They had matching smiles and an eagerness to them that I had been learning was not always friendly. “I’m getting a bit concerned with the emphasis on this pie,” I said. Kimber slapped the tray out of Sawyer’s hands and the entirety of it fell to the floor. “Kimmy,” Sawyer started, “that may have been an overreaction.” “I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable,” she cried. Bits of pie and cake and what looked like pudding, now coated the floor. “Okay, never mind. I think you two may just be really into the hospitality thing.” Sawyer snorted, tying the sash of his silk robe around him a bit further. Going behind the counter he dug out a small bit of parchment and threw it at the mess on the ground. I watched as time rewound itself and the platter came back into place, the sweets intact. “We are almost out of those reversal scrolls,” Sawyer commented. “You have got to stop throwing those around. You work too hard on your baked goods to be painting the floor with them.” Kimber nodded, grabbing the platter and bringing it to the table. “Sorry,” she said, cheeks pink. “So, $name, how do you like Artistan Alley?” The shift in subject was so quick that my head felt like it was reeling. “I’ve only just gotten here.” “It looks like you’ve set up shop though. I saw your house down at the end of the lane. The window boxes are adorable. We’ll have to get you some nightshade plants to go there. And a door mat. Though, I didn’t see a door.” “I seem to just have a window for now.” “Huh. Well, we’ll have to get you a window mat then.” Sitting down at the table, Kimber looked at me with an odd little bit of curiosity on her face. “You’re blurry, you know.” When I looked down at my own hand though, I didn’t see myself as blurry. [[My skin was fair|Skin][$skincolor to "fair"]] [[My skin was tan|Skin][$skincolor to "tan"]] [[My skin was brown|Skin][$skincolor to "brown"]] [[My skin was dark brown|Skin][$skincolor to "dark brown"]] [[My skin was olive|Skin][$skincolor to "olive"]] [[My skin was dark|Skin][$skincolor to "ebony"]] <<set $sawyer to "true">>“You’re all a really friendly bunch,” I commented. They hadn’t even questioned who I was or why I appeared. Part of me was thankful for that but I could see a naivety in them that I once had held. But unlike me, I didn’t think they had the power to back up their mistakes. “We try,” Sawyer said with a smile. “Comes from running for your life,” Kimber said with a firm nod. “Makes you want to give everyone warm hugs.” Sawyer sighed dreamily. “I just like to give people warm hugs whether they’re going to kill me or not.” “How are you liking Artisan Alley, $name?” Kimber asked. The shift in subject was so quick that my head felt like it was reeling. “I’ve only just gotten here.” “It looks like you’ve set up shop though. I saw your house down at the end of the lane. The window boxes are adorable. We’ll have to get you some nightshade plants to go there. And a door mat. Though, I didn’t see a door.” “I seem to just have a window for now.” “Huh. Well, we’ll have to get you a window mat then.” Sitting down at the table, Kimber looked at me with an odd little bit of curiosity on her face. “You’re blurry, you know.” When I looked down at my own hand though, I didn’t see myself as blurry. [[My skin was fair|Skin][$skincolor to "fair"]] [[My skin was tan|Skin][$skincolor to "tan"]] [[My skin was brown|Skin][$skincolor to "brown"]] [[My skin was dark brown|Skin][$skincolor to "dark brown"]] [[My skin was olive|Skin][$skincolor to "olive"]] [[My skin was dark|Skin][$skincolor to "ebony"]] [[My skin was lavendar|Skin][$skincolor to "lavendar"]] [[My skin was blue|Skin][$skincolor to "blue"]] [[My skin was green|Skin][$skincolor to "green"]] [[My skin was pink|Skin][$skincolor to "pink"]] <<set $sawyer to "true">>“Is he yours?” I asked, looking back down at the little boy. “Yes.” It was short and clipped and left no room for any more conversation. Instead, he went to put the plate of pie down before coming over and scooping Iblis up in his arms. “Bath time,” he sang. Just as quickly as he came, he made his way out of the room. “Did I say something wrong?” I asked. Kimber sighed. “Oh. No. Don’t you worry about Sawyer. Or any of us really. We’re just a peculiar little bunch, I’ve been told. How are you liking Artisan Alley?” The shift in subject was so quick that my head felt like it was reeling. “I’ve only just gotten here.” “It looks like you’ve set up shop though. I saw your house down at the end of the lane. The window boxes are adorable. We’ll have to get you some nightshade plants to go there. And a door mat. Though, I didn’t see a door.” “I seem to just have a window for now.” “Huh. Well, we’ll have to get you a window mat then.” Sitting down at the table, Kimber looked at me with an odd little bit of curiosity on her face. “You’re blurry, you know.” When I looked down at my own hand though, I didn’t see myself as blurry. [[My skin was fair|Skin][$skincolor to "fair"]] [[My skin was tan|Skin][$skincolor to "tan"]] [[My skin was brown|Skin][$skincolor to "brown"]] [[My skin was dark brown|Skin][$skincolor to "dark brown"]] [[My skin was olive|Skin][$skincolor to "olive"]] [[My skin was dark|Skin][$skincolor to "ebony"]] <<set $sawyer to "false">> My skin was $skincolor. The moment I thought it, Kimber gasped though. “Oh, that’s a handy trick.” <<if $sawyer == "true">> "Now, why can't I do something like that," Sawyer pouted. "What I wouldn't give to tuck my nose in a bit more and add a natural blush to my cheeks."<</if>> “Wait. What do I look like to you?” “Well, your skin is $skincolor now. But before you were just kind of shifting? You weren’t really settling on a form. It took me a minute to even realize that that was weird. Like my brain acknowledged it but then it all slipped away. Maybe you need to decide what you want to look like?” “I already did that,” I told her. “Yeah, but you’re back from the dead right? Anyone who rises gets to be reborn. You think they all look the same.” She wrinkled her nose. “Wait. Do they all look the same?” “I don’t think so,” I said. “I don’t know?” She waved it off. “No matter. Pick your poison. Be anything you want.” <<if $sawyer == "true">>"Oh, be a minotaur! There are not enough big, burly bulls in this market."<</if>> [[My hair color was brown|Hair][$haircolor to "brown"]] [[My hair color was black|Hair][$haircolor to "black"]] [[My hair color was red|Hair][$haircolor to "red"]] [[My hair color was ginger|Hair][$haircolor to "ginger"]] [[My hair color was blonde|Hair][$haircolor to "blonde"]] [[My hair color was gray|Hair][$haircolor to "gray"]] [[My hair color was blue|Hair][$haircolor to "blue"]] [[My hair color was green|Hair][$haircolor to "green"]] [[My hair color was pink|Hair][$haircolor to "pink"]] [[My hair color was white|Hair][$haircolor to "white"]] [[My hair color was purple|Hair][$haircolor to "purple"]][[I had humanoid features|Features][$features to "human"]] [[I had horns|Features][$features to "horns"]] [[I had irredescent scales|Features][$features to "irredescent scales"]] [[I had a tail|Features][$features to "tail"]] [[I had small wings|Features][$features to "wings"]] [[My eyes are amber|Eyes][$eyecolor to "amber"]] [[My eyes are blue|Eyes][$eyecolor to "blue"]] [[My eyes are brown|Eyes][$eyecolor to "brown"]] [[My eyes are green|Eyes][$eyecolor to "green"]] [[My eyes are gray|Eyes][$eyecolor to "gray"]] [[My eyes are hazel|Eyes][$eyecolor to "hazel"]] [[My eyes are lavender|Eyes][$eyecolor to "lavender"]] [[My eyes are pink|Eyes][$eyecolor to "pink"]] [[My eyes are red|Eyes][$eyecolor to "red"]][[This was all the same as before]] [[This was different from the first time I walked the market]] I was the same. I wanted to make sure I was the same, in fact. To be the person I had grown to love as I had wandered the world. Maybe one day I would change but everything around me already felt so broken and in flux. I didn’t want to add anymore to that. “Why the black eyes?” Kimber asked. <<if $sawyer == "true">>"And why not the minotaur? I feel as if you have really missed an opportunity here." Kimber smacked Sawyer across the shoulder, causing him to hiss and rub the spot with a frown.<</if>> “What do you mean? My eyes are $eyecolor.” She shook her head. “They’re black. In fact, that’s been the only feature about you that has stuck from the get go. I thought maybe you chose it.” Bringing my hand up to my face, I touched near my eyes. Kimber rocked back and forth in her seat. “Oh, look at you! You’ve just solidified so much. That is the most interesting thing I’ve seen all day. Even with Carl coming to visit.” “Thanks, I think.” “I’m so glad you’ve moved in here, $name. You should open a shop. Artisan Alley is full of shops. We pride ourselves on being unique. Oh, you could open an inn! A bathhouse? Oooo, you could open up a little petting zoo. Wait. No. The animals are all made of paper. That would get you too many paper cuts. Scratch that.” The bell above the shop door rang as the clockmaker came walking through. “Hi, Turner! This is $name!” “Don’t care.” <<if $sawyer == "false">>“Turner,” she admonished. <<elseif $sawyer == "true">>"Turner, baby. Calm down that dazzling attitude you have. It's going to scare $name."<</if>> Turner stopped with a roll of his eyes and a tight smile. “Hi, $name. Don’t invite people to our alley. I don’t want people knowing about my shop.” [[Seems counterproductive]] [[I can’t leave the alley so I can’t really invite people]] [[No worries. I want to be left alone mostly]] <<set $appearance to "same">> I was different from before. With the ability now to be who I wanted, the desire to try something new, to be comfortable in my own skin was nearly overwhelming. I wondered if $RO would recognize me. Or if I was so off the mark now that they wouldn’t even know who I was. “Why the black eyes?” Kimber asked. <<if $sawyer == "true">>"And why not the minotaur? I feel as if you have really missed an opportunity here." Kimber smacked Sawyer across the shoulder, causing him to hiss and rub the spot with a frown.<</if>> “What do you mean? My eyes are $eyecolor.” She shook her head. “They’re black. In fact, that’s been the only feature about you that has stuck from the get go. I thought maybe you chose it.” Bringing my hand up to my face, I touched near my eyes. Kimber rocked back and forth in her seat. “Oh, look at you! You’ve just solidified so much. That is the most interesting thing I’ve seen all day. Even with Carl coming to visit.” “Thanks, I think.” “I’m so glad you’ve moved in here, $name. You should open a shop. Artisan Alley is full of shops. We pride ourselves on being unique. Oh, you could open an inn! A bathhouse? Oooo, you could open up a little petting zoo. Wait. No. The animals are all made of paper. That would get you too many paper cuts. Scratch that.” The bell above the shop door rang as the clockmaker came walking through. “Hi, Turner! This is $name!” “Don’t care.” <<if $sawyer == "false">>“Turner,” she admonished. <<elseif $sawyer == "true">>"Turner, baby. Calm down that dazzling attitude you have. It's going to scare $name."<</if>> Turner stopped with a roll of his eyes and a tight smile. “Hi, $name. Don’t invite people to our alley. I don’t want people knowing about my shop.” [[Seems counterproductive]] [[I can’t leave the alley so I can’t really invite people]] [[No worries. I want to be left alone mostly]] <<set $appearance to "different">>“That seems to be a bit counterproductive,” I told him. “Aren’t shops supposed to want customers?” “Not when your shop is a front,” Kimber said. “A front for what.” Turner was glaring at Kimber. “A front for nothing.” “Yes,” Kimber started, shoving a piece of pie in her mouth. “Forget I said that.” "Alright," I said slowly. <<if $sawyer == "false">>“Good,” Turner said. “Then we’ll get along fine.” He walked towards the door both Sawyer and Iblis had exited through and followed them without another word. “He really is a teddy bear,” Kimber said. “Our little Turner.” <<elseif $sawyer == "true">> "Good," Turner said, crossing his arms in front of him. When he spied Iblis, the hard exterior softened a bit. "Isn't it bath day?" he addressed the little boy. The boy spit, his forked tongue making small raspberry noises. Turner cracked a small smile. "Go get your bath and I'll play blocks with you." That was all it took. Iblis jumped into Sawyer's arm, snuggling close. Sawyer hugged the boy tightly. "Well, that ends my little bit here. Time to get this boy settled. You coming up Turner?" "Yeah." The two men nodded at us, disapearing into a door behind the shop counter. Iblis blew raspberries the entire time.<</if>> “You all live together?” I asked. “In the upstairs apartment,” Kimber nodded. “We all came to the Night Market together and wound up here. So, we’ve been bunking together. I think Turner is going to get a place with Herald sooner or later. He spends a lot of time down at Harry’s. And Sawyer won’t admit it but I am pretty certain he has something going on with the dragon across the way. They think I don’t know but I know.” [[I would think it would be hard to keep a relationship with a dragon secret]] [[Aw, the alley gossip. Tell me more]] [[And what about you?]]“I can’t leave the alley so I don’t think I could invite anyone if I tried.” “Yeah,” Turner started. “But Kimmy keeps this alley packed for some ungodly reason. Really wish you’d stop that.” “How are people supposed to eat my pie?” Kimber said, somewhat distressed. Turner passed by her, squeezing her shoulder. <<if $sawyer == "false">>“Whatever,” Turner said. He walked towards the door both Sawyer and Iblis had exited through and followed them without another word. “He really is a teddy bear,” Kimber said. “Our little Turner.” <<elseif $sawyer == "true">> "Whatever," Turner said, crossing his arms in front of him. When he spied Iblis, the hard exterior softened a bit. "Isn't it bath day?" he addressed the little boy. The boy spit, his forked tongue making small raspberry noises. Turner cracked a small smile. "Go get your bath and I'll play blocks with you." That was all it took. Iblis jumped into Sawyer's arm, snuggling close. Sawyer hugged the boy tightly. "Well, that ends my little bit here. Time to get this boy settled. You coming up Turner?" "Yeah." The two men nodded at us, disapearing into a door behind the shop counter. Iblis blew raspberries the entire time.<</if>> “You all live together?” I asked. “In the upstairs apartment,” Kimber nodded. “We all came to the Night Market together and wound up here. So, we’ve been bunking together. I think Turner is going to get a place with Herald sooner or later. He spends a lot of time down at Harry’s. And Sawyer won’t admit it but I am pretty certain he has something going on with the dragon across the way. They think I don’t know but I know.” [[I would think it would be hard to keep a relationship with a dragon secret]] [[Aw, the alley gossip. Tell me more]] [[And what about you?]]“No worries. I want to be left alone. Mostly.” There were very few people I could even think of inviting down this alley. Briefly, I wondered when Pen would be making an appearance. <<if $sawyer == "false">>“Good,” Turner said. “Then we’ll get along fine.” He walked towards the door both Sawyer and Iblis had exited through and followed them without another word. “He really is a teddy bear,” Kimber said. “Our little Turner.” <<elseif $sawyer == "true">> "Good," Turner said, crossing his arms in front of him. When he spied Iblis, the hard exterior softened a bit. "Isn't it bath day?" he addressed the little boy. The boy spit, his forked tongue making small raspberry noises. Turner cracked a small smile. "Go get your bath and I'll play blocks with you." That was all it took. Iblis jumped into Sawyer's arm, snuggling close. Sawyer hugged the boy tightly. "Well, that ends my little bit here. Time to get this boy settled. You coming up Turner?" "Yeah." The two men nodded at us, disapearing into a door behind the shop counter. Iblis blew raspberries the entire time.<</if>> “You all live together?” I asked. “In the upstairs apartment,” Kimber nodded. “We all came to the Night Market together and wound up here. So, we’ve been bunking together. I think Turner is going to get a place with Herald sooner or later. He spends a lot of time down at Harry’s. And Sawyer won’t admit it but I am pretty certain he has something going on with the dragon across the way. They think I don’t know but I know.” [[I would think it would be hard to keep a relationship with a dragon secret]] [[Aw, the alley gossip. Tell me more]] [[And what about you?]] “I would think it would be really hard to keep a relationship with a dragon a secret,” I commented. Kimber snorted. “Probably. I don’t actually think they are seeing each other. I think Sawyer has a bit of a crush and can’t really bring himself to admit it. And Malachi is oblivious to it all. But, that’s okay. Just gives me more time to sit back and watch. It’s like my own personal little show,” she grinned. “And if it ends in my boys having a happy ending then I am so very grateful for it.” “That’s a nice way of looking at things,” I told her. “I try to keep a positive outlook. I lost my memories and ever since then I try to fill my head with new thoughts and experiences but I want them to be nice ones, you know?” I blinked at her in surprise. “You lost your memories?” “Some time ago, yeah.” I looked at her. I had been her not too long ago. Without any sort of memory. Though mine was self-inflicted. This poor woman wasn’t going to have a reset. She wasn't going to go to sleep one day and wake up as her old self. Or even get to reinvent herself like I just did. [[Remembering can be overrated]] [[I’ll help if I can]] [[But are you happy?]]“Alley gossip, huh? Tell me more.” Kimber giggled. “There’s really not too much to tell. Up until a full moon ago it was just me, Sawyer, Iblis and Turner. Well, and I guess Herald. Though, I thought he was just a really avid customer at first. Then it turned out that he kept coming around because he had a thing for Turner. Malachi only moved in a little while ago and he mostly keeps to himself. He says it's a dragon thing.” “And him and Sawyer are together?” “No. I don’t think it's gone that far. But Sawyer has been making moon eyes at him and its the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. It’ll be good for him. I think he got a bit sad when Turner and Herald started dating.” I raised my brow. “So he liked Turner before?” She screwed up her nose. “I really shouldn’t say. It was far more complicated than that. Sawyer didn’t like Turner. Not in that way at least. But I think he really wanted to. But that’s a story for another time. And believe me, I don’t have many stories so I’m bound to spill this one eventually. Ever since I lost my memories I try to speak the ones I have out loud.” I blinked at her in surprise. “You lost your memories?” “Some time ago, yeah.” I looked at her. I had been her not too long ago. Without any sort of memory. Though mine was self-inflicted. This poor woman wasn’t going to have a reset. She wasn't going to go to sleep one day and wake up as her old self. Or even get to reinvent herself like I just did. [[Remembering can be overrated]] [[I’ll help if I can]] [[But are you happy?]]“And what about you?” I asked. “Got anyone?” “I can’t remember, actually. I like to think I have someone. Someone strong and with kind eyes but… I don’t know really.” “You don’t have your memories?” “Nope,” she said with a sigh. “I wound up in a world without even a thought in my brain. Met Turner and Sawyer and we all huddled together for safety. Then we came here.” “So you didn’t have your memories before this?” “I don’t know. I don’t think so? Maybe a little. Turner and Sawyer filled in a few little blanks but nothing that has really given me concrete evidence of where I’m from. And I guess I was a bit cagey about it with them when I did have my memories. So my guess is, whatever happened to me, isn’t worth remembering. Except for maybe the man with the kind eyes,” she said with a small sigh. I looked at her. I had been her not too long ago. Without any sort of memory. Though mine was self-inflicted. This poor woman wasn’t going to have a reset. She wasn't going to go to sleep one day and wake up as her old self. Or even get to reinvent herself like I just did. [[Remembering can be overrated]] [[I’ll help if I can]] [[But are you happy?]] Empathy consumed me. I felt sorry for the woman. Yet, I now knew that sometimes, remembering the past wasn’t always the best thing. “Remembering can be overrated,” I told her. She shrugged. “Maybe. I try to just be happy either way. I’m sure remembering would be wonderful. Knowing who I am and where I’m from. But not remembering is okay, too. I have good family and friends around me. People who look out for me. And, I’m incredibly good at making pie.” I took a bite of her pie then and nearly moaned. She for sure wasn’t lying when she said she could work magic with her baked goods. Behind me, the bell above the door rang again, signaling yet another arrival. I saw the way Kimber’s eyes rested over my shoulder. “Well,” she whispered, “I think I’ll just leave you two alone.” I turned, my heart in my throat. But while I expected to see $RO, it was not them standing there. Instead, it was Herald, his expression pained. “I’m sorry.” I felt my heart drop at the utterance. $RO wasn’t coming. And I didn’t know why. Stepping into the room, Herald swung off the coffin pack he normally wore and rested it by the door. He looked upset at whatever had transpired. The stitching at the corners of his mouth a bit frayed with how much he had spoken. “What happened?” I asked. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to see the Warden. Found him on a patrol. But he didn’t seem to believe me. Said that you were dead.” “Did you tell him I’m obviously not?” “I am so very sorry, $name. I tried. I really did. He kept sayin’ some disturbing things. I don’t think he was going to believe me. All but threw me out of his sight. Was afraid if I kept harpin’ on him he was going to arrest me.” I felt my stomach clench. I was trapped in this alley, so close to him, yet not able to get to him even for a moment. “Maybe just give him some time. I’ll try again a bit later.” Herald suggested. His face had fallen as well, his failure over this somewhat of a personal slight. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to go see Ms. Albright. She was mixin’ up some potions for an order. But uh, she said somethin’ mighty peculiar. She said she didn’t remember you.” I froze. “What?” “I said your name. Told her about the ball. Where you were buried. She said she doesn’t know what I was talkin’ about. And I know that to not be true because I’ve seen her down at the grave. But she looked like she was confused. I don’t think she was lying to me.” “No,” I said slowly. “Something is wrong. That’s… Hazel would remember me.” The moment Hazel heard I was back, recluse or not, I know she would have rushed down here and burst through those doors, right back into my arms. The act that it was Herald in her place was an undeniable point of concern. “Somethin’ is happenin’. I’ll agree. But she didn’t seem all that keen to come down here with me when she didn’t know what I was even talkin’ about. She said that I could come back to talk to her in a few days but right now she was in the middle of a big order. But she told me to tell you that she hopes you find who you are lookin’ for.” I felt myself stumble back, the knowledge that I had somehow just been erased from her memory a pit gnawing away at my stomach. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “I tried to see Ms. Malady, but her secretary said that she’s booked out for another seven moons.” “What? Did you tell the secretary what this pertained to?” And since when did Belladonna have a secretary? She had always loved dealing with the public herself. Guards surrounded her but she never had someone who spoke for her. “I did. But either the secretary doesn’t know about you or she is a true secretary and has gotten that blank face down real good. She said she would pass on the message.” "And what about Gabriel?" Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to see the Warden. Found him on a patrol. But he didn’t seem to believe me. Said that you were dead.” “Did you tell him I’m obviously not?” “I am so very sorry, $name. I tried. I really did. He kept sayin’ some disturbing things. I don’t think he was going to believe me. All but threw me out of his sight. Was afraid if I kept harpin’ on him he was going to arrest me.” I felt my stomach clench. I was trapped in this alley, so close to him, yet not able to get to him even for a moment. “Maybe just give him some time. I’ll try again a bit later.” Herald suggested. His face had fallen as well, his failure over this somewhat of a personal slight. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” I felt disheartened but at the same time, at least it was something. When the message did get to Belladonna, she would take it seriously. Even if she thought someone was trying to mess with her, she would ultimately still follow up on the lead. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I tried to see Ms. Malady, but her secretary said that she’s booked out for another seven moons.” “What? Did you tell the secretary what this pertained to?” And since when did Belladonna have a secretary? She had always loved dealing with the public herself. Guards surrounded her but she never had someone who spoke for her. “I did. But either the secretary doesn’t know about you or she is a true secretary and has gotten that blank face down real good. She said she would pass on the message.” I felt disheartened but at the same time, at least it was something. When the message did get to Belladonna, she would take it seriously. Even if she thought someone was trying to mess with her, she would ultimately still follow up on the lead. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “It’s not bad news,” he assured me. “Just think this is a bit of a difficult situation but I did get in contact with that Malcolm you were telling me about and he said he’d be on his way. He asked that you try to hold on until he got here.” “Hold on? Is he afraid I’m going to fade?” I looked down at my hands, suddenly concerned that I was going to dissipate into the yeast filled air. “Possibly. We still don’t know what exactly the parameters of you reappearing again means. I’m not sure if it's a permanent thing or…” The bell behind Herald dinged as it was pushed open.<<elseif $platonic == "true">>“It’s not bad news,” he assured me. “Just think there is a bit of a difficult situation but I did get in contact with that Malcolm you were telling me about and he said he’d be on his way. He asked that you try to hold on until he got here.” “Hold on? Is he afraid I’m going to fade?” “Possibly. We still don’t know what exactly the parameters of you reappearing against means. I’m not sure if it's a permanent thing or…” The bell behind Herald dinged as it was pushed open.<</if>> Malcolm stepped through the front door, dressed in loose black slacks and a soft dark green pullover. His hair was pulled back from his face, showcasing hs wild expression as his eyes locked on me. A huff of air escaped him. Like he had been holding his breath the entire way here. “Hey, Lamplight.” [[Damn it is good that someone recognizes me]] [[Hey, Mal]] [[Run and hug him]] There was a sort of kinship I had with her situation. One that I knew all too well the trials and tribulations of. “I’ll help you if I can,” I told her. “If you want to get your memories back, that is.” “You're sweet,” she said kindly. “And maybe? But right now, I am just enjoying my time here. As a baker. I don’t think I really got to do that before. I have a sneaking suspicion my life was incredibly stressful. So, baking seems like the right thing for me at the moment. Kind of like a mental health break. I figure when it’s time for me to remember who I am, I will.” I admire the mentality, looking at the woman with a kind of deep respect that I hadn’t expected to feel for her. “Now, eat your pie,” she prompted. I took a bite of her pie then and nearly moaned. She for sure wasn’t lying when she said she could work magic with her baked goods. Behind me, the bell above the door rang again, signaling yet another arrival. I saw the way Kimber’s eyes rested over my shoulder. “Well,” she whispered, “I think I’ll just leave you two alone.” I turned, my heart in my throat. But while I expected to see $RO, it was not them standing there. Instead, it was Herald, his expression pained. “I’m sorry.” I felt my heart drop at the utterance. $RO wasn’t coming. And I didn’t know why. Stepping into the room, Herald swung off the coffin pack he normally wore and rested it by the door. He looked upset at whatever had transpired. The stitching at the corners of his mouth a bit frayed with how much he had spoken. “What happened?” I asked. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to see the Warden. Found him on a patrol. But he didn’t seem to believe me. Said that you were dead.” “Did you tell him I’m obviously not?” “I am so very sorry, $name. I tried. I really did. He kept sayin’ some disturbing things. I don’t think he was going to believe me. All but threw me out of his sight. Was afraid if I kept harpin’ on him he was going to arrest me.” I felt my stomach clench. I was trapped in this alley, so close to him, yet not able to get to him even for a moment. “Maybe just give him some time. I’ll try again a bit later.” Herald suggested. His face had fallen as well, his failure over this somewhat of a personal slight. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to go see Ms. Albright. She was mixin’ up some potions for an order. But uh, she said somethin’ mighty peculiar. She said she didn’t remember you.” I froze. “What?” “I said your name. Told her about the ball. Where you were buried. She said she doesn’t know what I was talkin’ about. And I know that to not be true because I’ve seen her down at the grave. But she looked like she was confused. I don’t think she was lying to me.” “No,” I said slowly. “Something is wrong. That’s… Hazel would remember me.” The moment Hazel heard I was back, recluse or not, I know she would have rushed down here and burst through those doors, right back into my arms. The act that it was Herald in her place was an undeniable point of concern. “Somethin’ is happenin’. I’ll agree. But she didn’t seem all that keen to come down here with me when she didn’t know what I was even talkin’ about. She said that I could come back to talk to her in a few days but right now she was in the middle of a big order. But she told me to tell you that she hopes you find who you are lookin’ for.” I felt myself stumble back, the knowledge that I had somehow just been erased from her memory a pit gnawing away at my stomach. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “I tried to see Ms. Malady, but her secretary said that she’s booked out for another seven moons.” “What? Did you tell the secretary what this pertained to?” And since when did Belladonna have a secretary? She had always loved dealing with the public herself. Guards surrounded her but she never had someone who spoke for her. “I did. But either the secretary doesn’t know about you or she is a true secretary and has gotten that blank face down real good. She said she would pass on the message.” "And what about Gabriel?" Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to see the Warden. Found him on a patrol. But he didn’t seem to believe me. Said that you were dead.” “Did you tell him I’m obviously not?” “I am so very sorry, $name. I tried. I really did. He kept sayin’ some disturbing things. I don’t think he was going to believe me. All but threw me out of his sight. Was afraid if I kept harpin’ on him he was going to arrest me.” I felt my stomach clench. I was trapped in this alley, so close to him, yet not able to get to him even for a moment. “Maybe just give him some time. I’ll try again a bit later.” Herald suggested. His face had fallen as well, his failure over this somewhat of a personal slight. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” I felt disheartened but at the same time, at least it was something. When the message did get to Belladonna, she would take it seriously. Even if she thought someone was trying to mess with her, she would ultimately still follow up on the lead. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I tried to see Ms. Malady, but her secretary said that she’s booked out for another seven moons.” “What? Did you tell the secretary what this pertained to?” And since when did Belladonna have a secretary? She had always loved dealing with the public herself. Guards surrounded her but she never had someone who spoke for her. “I did. But either the secretary doesn’t know about you or she is a true secretary and has gotten that blank face down real good. She said she would pass on the message.” I felt disheartened but at the same time, at least it was something. When the message did get to Belladonna, she would take it seriously. Even if she thought someone was trying to mess with her, she would ultimately still follow up on the lead. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “It’s not bad news,” he assured me. “Just think this is a bit of a difficult situation but I did get in contact with that Malcolm you were telling me about and he said he’d be on his way. He asked that you try to hold on until he got here.” “Hold on? Is he afraid I’m going to fade?” I looked down at my hands, suddenly concerned that I was going to dissipate into the yeast filled air. “Possibly. We still don’t know what exactly the parameters of you reappearing again means. I’m not sure if it's a permanent thing or…” The bell behind Herald dinged as it was pushed open.<<elseif $platonic == "true">>“It’s not bad news,” he assured me. “Just think there is a bit of a difficult situation but I did get in contact with that Malcolm you were telling me about and he said he’d be on his way. He asked that you try to hold on until he got here.” “Hold on? Is he afraid I’m going to fade?” “Possibly. We still don’t know what exactly the parameters of you reappearing against means. I’m not sure if it's a permanent thing or…” The bell behind Herald dinged as it was pushed open.<</if>> Malcolm stepped through the front door, dressed in loose black slacks and a soft dark green pullover. His hair was pulled back from his face, showcasing hs wild expression as his eyes locked on me. A huff of air escaped him. Like he had been holding his breath the entire way here. “Hey, Lamplight.” [[Damn it is good that someone recognizes me]] [[Hey, Mal]] [[Run and hug him]]“Are you happy?” I asked suddenly, a burning desire to know. She looked surprised at the question. “Of course I am,” she said. “I have my adoptive brothers to be petty and walk around here with their eye rolls and drama,” she giggled. “And we all take part in raising baby Iblis. And with Malachi moving in across the street and you down the road, I just feel like our family is growing. It’s been kind of wonderful. Plus, I’m really good at making pie.” I took a bite of her pie then and nearly moaned. She for sure wasn’t lying when she said she could work magic with her baked goods. Behind me, the bell above the door rang again, signaling yet another arrival. I saw the way Kimber’s eyes rested over my shoulder. “Well,” she whispered, “I think I’ll just leave you two alone.” I turned, my heart in my throat. But while I expected to see $RO, it was not them standing there. Instead, it was Herald, his expression pained. “I’m sorry.” I felt my heart drop at the utterance. $RO wasn’t coming. And I didn’t know why. Stepping into the room, Herald swung off the coffin pack he normally wore and rested it by the door. He looked upset at whatever had transpired. The stitching at the corners of his mouth a bit frayed with how much he had spoken. “What happened?” I asked. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to see the Warden. Found him on a patrol. But he didn’t seem to believe me. Said that you were dead.” “Did you tell him I’m obviously not?” “I am so very sorry, $name. I tried. I really did. He kept sayin’ some disturbing things. I don’t think he was going to believe me. All but threw me out of his sight. Was afraid if I kept harpin’ on him he was going to arrest me.” I felt my stomach clench. I was trapped in this alley, so close to him, yet not able to get to him even for a moment. “Maybe just give him some time. I’ll try again a bit later.” Herald suggested. His face had fallen as well, his failure over this somewhat of a personal slight. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to go see Ms. Albright. She was mixin’ up some potions for an order. But uh, she said somethin’ mighty peculiar. She said she didn’t remember you.” I froze. “What?” “I said your name. Told her about the ball. Where you were buried. She said she doesn’t know what I was talkin’ about. And I know that to not be true because I’ve seen her down at the grave. But she looked like she was confused. I don’t think she was lying to me.” “No,” I said slowly. “Something is wrong. That’s… Hazel would remember me.” The moment Hazel heard I was back, recluse or not, I know she would have rushed down here and burst through those doors, right back into my arms. The act that it was Herald in her place was an undeniable point of concern. “Somethin’ is happenin’. I’ll agree. But she didn’t seem all that keen to come down here with me when she didn’t know what I was even talkin’ about. She said that I could come back to talk to her in a few days but right now she was in the middle of a big order. But she told me to tell you that she hopes you find who you are lookin’ for.” I felt myself stumble back, the knowledge that I had somehow just been erased from her memory a pit gnawing away at my stomach. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “I tried to see Ms. Malady, but her secretary said that she’s booked out for another seven moons.” “What? Did you tell the secretary what this pertained to?” And since when did Belladonna have a secretary? She had always loved dealing with the public herself. Guards surrounded her but she never had someone who spoke for her. “I did. But either the secretary doesn’t know about you or she is a true secretary and has gotten that blank face down real good. She said she would pass on the message.” "And what about Gabriel?" Herald shifted nervously from foot to foot. ”I went to see the Warden. Found him on a patrol. But he didn’t seem to believe me. Said that you were dead.” “Did you tell him I’m obviously not?” “I am so very sorry, $name. I tried. I really did. He kept sayin’ some disturbing things. I don’t think he was going to believe me. All but threw me out of his sight. Was afraid if I kept harpin’ on him he was going to arrest me.” I felt my stomach clench. I was trapped in this alley, so close to him, yet not able to get to him even for a moment. “Maybe just give him some time. I’ll try again a bit later.” Herald suggested. His face had fallen as well, his failure over this somewhat of a personal slight. “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe.” I felt disheartened but at the same time, at least it was something. When the message did get to Belladonna, she would take it seriously. Even if she thought someone was trying to mess with her, she would ultimately still follow up on the lead. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I tried to see Ms. Malady, but her secretary said that she’s booked out for another seven moons.” “What? Did you tell the secretary what this pertained to?” And since when did Belladonna have a secretary? She had always loved dealing with the public herself. Guards surrounded her but she never had someone who spoke for her. “I did. But either the secretary doesn’t know about you or she is a true secretary and has gotten that blank face down real good. She said she would pass on the message.” I felt disheartened but at the same time, at least it was something. When the message did get to Belladonna, she would take it seriously. Even if she thought someone was trying to mess with her, she would ultimately still follow up on the lead. “I did manage to get a hold of someone else though. Might be somewhat helpful.” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “It’s not bad news,” he assured me. “Just think this is a bit of a difficult situation but I did get in contact with that Malcolm you were telling me about and he said he’d be on his way. He asked that you try to hold on until he got here.” “Hold on? Is he afraid I’m going to fade?” I looked down at my hands, suddenly concerned that I was going to dissipate into the yeast filled air. “Possibly. We still don’t know what exactly the parameters of you reappearing again means. I’m not sure if it's a permanent thing or…” The bell behind Herald dinged as it was pushed open.<<elseif $platonic == "true">>“It’s not bad news,” he assured me. “Just think there is a bit of a difficult situation but I did get in contact with that Malcolm you were telling me about and he said he’d be on his way. He asked that you try to hold on until he got here.” “Hold on? Is he afraid I’m going to fade?” “Possibly. We still don’t know what exactly the parameters of you reappearing against means. I’m not sure if it's a permanent thing or…” The bell behind Herald dinged as it was pushed open.<</if>> Malcolm stepped through the front door, dressed in loose black slacks and a soft dark green pullover. His hair was pulled back from his face, showcasing hs wild expression as his eyes locked on me. A huff of air escaped him. Like he had been holding his breath the entire way here. “Hey, Lamplight.” [[Damn it is good that someone recognizes me]] [[Hey, Mal]] [[Run and hug him]]“Damn it is good to have someone recognize me,” I breathed. It wasn’t just by name but it was by sight. Malcolm looked at me and knew who I was. Saw me and allowed a history to unravel between us. Countless days where he confided in me as my Gatekeeper. Moments where I sat and enjoyed his company when no one else even acknowledged my existence. “Welcome home,” he said with a quirked smile. //Home//. I was home. I laughed a little. Somehow, hearing him say it, hearing it all, made the last few months all the more real. Home. This was home. I was back in some form at least. And I was going to scratch and claw at anything in my way. I wasn’t going to leave these streets without my consent. “I’ll tell Ms. Kimber to put on a pot of tea,” Herald said, lumbering out of the room and into the kitchen. I could hear Kimber squeak. She had obviously been watching from behind the counter. We made our way over to the table, the two of us sitting across from each other. He looked much better than the last time I had seen him. There was actual color in his face now. “I don’t even know what to say,” he told me honestly. “I want to ask you what happened. How you got back. And at the same time put it all behind us and never speak of it again.” “That sounds healthy,” I laughed. “Right?” A small smile filtered across his lips. “It is so good to see you. I– when Herald told me I almost didn’t believe him.” “I almost don’t believe I’m here either. I mean, I can’t even leave the alley.” Malcolm gestured for me to sit, the two of us going over to a small bistro table, neither of us taking eyes off each other. Any moment, I felt as if I was going to be flung back into that liminal space with Taliesin as my only companion. “Herald mentioned that,” Malcolm said. “What happens when you try?” “It’s like a barrier. I just can’t lift my feet to go through.” And I had tried. After sending Herald away I had tried to step over the barrier again and again. But I couldn’t even will my feet to leave the ground. “That seems odd. I don’t know why you would be confined here of all places. You don’t look like a spirit. And this is certainly not where you took your final breath. I checked the fountain several times over in case you were haunting it, but there’s nothing there but the abandoned mermaid.” I shook my head. “I stepped through a door and wound up in this little apartment. I think it’s mine? I’m not sure. It’s like the Night Market, me, just made a little space for myself.” I had been doing it for everyone else in this world, so why not do it for myself? “A place to call your own isn’t such a bad thing,” he reasoned. “It could help you put roots down within the market.” “Roots down within myself?” I asked. He leaned back in his chair. “Self care and knowing thyself is important,” he smirked. “Ha ha.” There was something about being around Malcolm that was causing my shoulders to unclench. Like there was some sort of normalcy being injected into life again. Never mind that the scars from the goblins were still embedded inside the walls and I was effectively imprisoned once more. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do now,” I confessed to him. “What do you want to do?” <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Find Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Find Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Find Belladonna]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Find and check on Belladonna and Gabriel]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Find Milo]]<</if>> [[Start living again]] [[Get the lights back on]]“Hey, Mal,” I said back, a slight grin on my own lips. Such a simple greeting and yet it held the weight of the world in it. Because I could talk to him. He could talk to me. And despite our roles in each other's lives, that had not always been mutually exclusive. I laughed a little. Somehow, hearing him say Lamplight, made the last few months all the more real. Home. This was home. I was back in some form at least. And I was going to scratch and claw at anything in my way. I wasn’t going to leave these streets without my consent. “I’ll tell Ms. Kimber to put on a pot of tea,” Herald said, lumbering out of the room and into the kitchen. I could hear Kimber squeak. She had obviously been watching from behind the counter. We made our way over to the table, the two of us sitting across from each other. He looked much better than the last time I had seen him. There was actual color in his face now. “I don’t even know what to say,” he told me honestly. “I want to ask you what happened. How you got back. And at the same time put it all behind us and never speak of it again.” “That sounds healthy,” I laughed. “Right?” A small smile filtered across his lips. “It is so good to see you. I– when Herald told me I almost didn’t believe him.” “I almost don’t believe I’m here either. I mean, I can’t even leave the alley.” Malcolm gestured for me to sit, the two of us going over to a small bistro table, neither of us taking eyes off each other. Any moment, I felt as if I was going to be flung back into that liminal space with Taliesin as my only companion. “Herald mentioned that,” Malcolm said. “What happens when you try?” “It’s like a barrier. I just can’t lift my feet to go through.” And I had tried. After sending Herald away I had tried to step over the barrier again and again. But I couldn’t even will my feet to leave the ground. “That seems odd. I don’t know why you would be confined here of all places. You don’t look like a spirit. And this is certainly not where you took your final breath. I checked the fountain several times over in case you were haunting it, but there’s nothing there but the abandoned mermaid.” I shook my head. “I stepped through a door and wound up in this little apartment. I think it’s mine? I’m not sure. It’s like the Night Market, me, just made a little space for myself.” I had been doing it for everyone else in this world, so why not do it for myself? “A place to call your own isn’t such a bad thing,” he reasoned. “It could help you put roots down within the market.” “Roots down within myself?” I asked. He leaned back in his chair. “Self care and knowing thyself is important,” he smirked. “Ha ha.” There was something about being around Malcolm that was causing my shoulders to unclench. Like there was some sort of normalcy being injected into life again. Never mind that the scars from the goblins were still embedded inside the walls and I was effectively imprisoned once more. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do now,” I confessed to him. “What do you want to do?” <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Find Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Find Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Find Belladonna]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Find and check on Belladonna and Gabriel]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Find Milo]]<</if>> [[Start living again]] [[Get the lights back on]] I ran to him. Flinging my arms around him, as I collapsed against his chest. His arms came up to encircle me, hands splaying across my back. I could feel the way he curled me close, fingers wrapping into the folds of my shirt in order to make sure I was here. “Welcome home,” he choked out. “I missed you.” I laughed a little into his shoulder. Somehow, hearing him say it, hearing it all, made the last few months all the more real. Home. This was home. I was back in some form at least. And I was going to scratch and claw at anything in my way. I wasn’t going to leave these streets without my consent. “I’ll tell Ms. Kimber to put on a pot of tea,” Herald said, lumbering out of the room and into the kitchen. I could hear Kimber squeak. She had obviously been watching from behind the counter. When Malcolm let me go, he stayed close, still looking me over, up and down. “I don’t even know what to say,” he told me honestly. “I want to ask you what happened. How you got back. And at the same time put it all behind us and never speak of it again.” “That sounds healthy,” I laughed. “Right?” A small smile filtered across his lips. “It is so good to see you. I– when Herald told me I almost didn’t believe him.” “I almost don’t believe I’m here either. I mean, I can’t even leave the alley.” Malcolm gestured for me to sit, the two of us going over to a small bistro table, neither of us taking eyes off each other. Any moment, I felt as if I was going to be flung back into that liminal space with Taliesin as my only companion. “Herald mentioned that,” Malcolm said. “What happens when you try?” “It’s like a barrier. I just can’t lift my feet to go through.” And I had tried. After sending Herald away I had tried to step over the barrier again and again. But I couldn’t even will my feet to leave the ground. “That seems odd. I don’t know why you would be confined here of all places. You don’t look like a spirit. And this is certainly not where you took your final breath. I checked the fountain several times over in case you were haunting it, but there’s nothing there but the abandoned mermaid.” I shook my head. “I stepped through a door and wound up in this little apartment. I think it’s mine? I’m not sure. It’s like the Night Market, me, just made a little space for myself.” I had been doing it for everyone else in this world, so why not do it for myself? “A place to call your own isn’t such a bad thing,” he reasoned. “It could help you put roots down within the market.” “Roots down within myself?” I asked. He leaned back in his chair. “Self care and knowing thyself is important,” he smirked. “Ha ha.” There was something about being around Malcolm that was causing my shoulders to unclench. Like there was some sort of normalcy being injected into life again. Never mind that the scars from the goblins were still embedded inside the walls and I was effectively imprisoned once more. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do now,” I confessed to him. “What do you want to do?” <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Find Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Find Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Find Belladonna]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Find and check on Belladonna and Gabriel]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Find Milo]]<</if>> [[Start living again]] [[Get the lights back on]]“Find Hazel,” I said. “Herald tried to go and get her but she says she doesn’t remember me.” Malcolm tipped his head to the side. “That’s not right. She helped bury you.” “Why would she lie to Herald then? Why isn’t she here?” Malcolm looked all too disturbed over the revelation of his sister. But not entirely surprised either. “I can go to her,” he said. “Maybe she is playing it safe? She’s been a little distant since everything. She took the ball hard. We all did.” I looked away. “Malcolm, I– I knew it was going to happen. Not at that very moment but before coming down here I knew.” “I figured,” he said quietly. “Milo isn’t a spell caster. There’s no way he could have brought a piece of you here on his own. Even with Gatekeeper magic.” “Is Hazel going to be mad at me?” “No, Lamplight. No. You know Hazel. She is just going to be so happy you are back. You could have shoved the knife in yourself and it wouldn’t have mattered to her. Nice to a fault, remember?” Which was why it didn’t make sense. Even if she was playing it cautious with Herald, she would have come down here. She would have investigated any lead. And if it turned out to not be me but a lost soul, she would have helped them. “Please go check on her soon,” I told Malcolm. “I have a really bad feeling about this.” “I will,” Malcolm swore. I had to believe him. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“Find Gabriel,” I said. “Herald says he doesn’t believe that I’m here. That I’m not me.” I thought back to the few times I had seen him while traveling the Inbetween. “He could see me, Malcolm. When no one else could he could still see me. Not even you were ever able to do that.” “May have something to do with his celestial nature,” Malcolm said. “Did he speak to you?” “Sometimes. He mostly thought I was a figment of his imagination. I thought if Herald went to speak with him, he would believe there was some claim to me being back. It would be proof that he was not the only one who could see me. But Herald said he grew agitated. Sent him away.” Malcolm nodded. “I haven’t seen Gabriel much since we buried you but from the rumors I have heard, it hasn’t been good. Some say that the madness is starting to take over him. That he is quicker to anger. That he keeps making mistakes on the job. He has become far more brutal and alert within the market and with you gone. But, given everything that is happening, I don’t see how he can’t be. The man is spread far too thin.” “Do you think you could talk to him?” I asked. “I can certainly try,” Malcolm promised. I nodded my head in appreciation. I knew he would keep that promise. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]] “To find Belladonna,” I said. “Herald couldn’t get a meeting with her. Not that it really surprises me. I’m hoping she gets the message he left, however. Have you seen her at all?” Malcolm shook his head. “Not since we buried you. She stayed for a few minutes and then slunk off into the night. Typical behavior of her from what I remember a long time ago but I don’t know about now. She’s certainly been making waves as the Baron, however. Implementing rules within her own people that are not looked upon favorably. I’ll leave that one for her to tell you, however. Because I’m sure she’ll want to gloat over how many people hate her. I laughed at the thought of it. The idea of curling up with some wine, listening to her detail out all the ways she outsmarted other powerful people? It sounded like pure pleasure. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“I want to find Milo,” I told him. His posture stiffened. It was so slight that not many would notice. But I could feel it like a wave of tension in the air. “And what exactly do you plan to do when you find him?” He kept his tone neutral but I knew the weight of the question was not an easy one. Especially for him. When it came to Milo, there was a certain amount of confusion that still ruminated through my thoughts. The feeling of being betrayed. The feeling of betraying him. The idea that he lied to me but feeling like the biggest liar of us all. Knowing that what he did was to save the Night Market itself but still hating that I lost my life for it. Wanting to berate him. Hit him. Scold him. Make him beg. Wanting to tell him I understood. That I was sad that he thought I wouldn’t care. That I wanted to welcome him home. My mind was split. Every path laid out before me and warring for some sort of purchase. A sea of noise and opinions, all of which were mine and yet I had to try and pick one out of the bunch of them and live with it as my own truth. [[I just want him to know it’s going to be okay]] [[I want to kill him]] [[I need more time to know how I feel about him]]“I just want to start living again,” I told him honestly. “For so long I have been an outsider just looking in. Someone that has had to watch individuals fall in love, have families, experience joy and heartbreak. Life and Death. And I couldn’t touch any of it. I was just there, looking at this beautiful miasma of life and longing to be a part of it for just a moment. And oh, how I was.” Malcolm smiled softly. “You certainly lived quite the life during those few months.” “And I want more. I crave so much more. I want to be here. I want to walk the streets and experience all this world has to offer. I don’t want to be the Night Market, sitting up in the nether just watching everyone else go through life. I want to be $name.” “Then that’s what we’ll have you be,” Malcolm said. “How?” “That, I have no idea. But, given that you are technically the person in this world who makes the rules? I think we could maybe make that a possibility.” I laughed at the idea of needing to ask myself permission to be here. Feeling like some small child looking up to a field of ancestors, the word please on my lips. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“Getting the lights back on would be a start,” I said, looking out the window towards the dim lanterns just swaying unassumingly in the alley. “It feels empty in the market. Cold.” It was hard to describe, but there was something off about the cobblestone streets without the warm glow of lights. Even the green lanterns that were posted outside in artisan alley felt sickly somehow. Like they were a mimicry of what could never be. Barely holding back the dark. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“I want to find Gabriel and Bella,” I said. “Herald couldn’t even get through to Belladonna and Gabriel doesn’t believe I exist. I need to just go see them. Maybe if I can see Bella first she can help me convince Gabriel that I’m real.” “I don’t know how much they’ve really seen each other since you’ve been gone,” Malcolm said gently. “Are you sure?” I didn’t like the idea of the two of them not leaning on each other when they needed each other the most. “No, I’ll give you that,” Malcolm said. “I don’t know what they do with their quieter moments during the day. But the two of them have kept themselves busy. I don’t know when they would have had time for each other.” I just needed to get to one of them. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]] “I just want him to know that it’s going to be okay,” I told him honestly. “That I understand. That I can work my way towards forgiving him if that’s even what is needed.” “You shouldn’t forgive him for what he did.” “I was a part of it, too,” I pointed out. “Were you?” His eyes were intense as they snapped up to me. “Can you be a part of something when you didn’t even understand the stakes? Are you the same person that sent yourself down here?” “I don’t know, but I do know I can’t just dismiss that either. I can’t just pretend like I didn’t set this into motion.” “He should have told us what was happening,” Malcolm said, his fingers drumming against the table in quiet irritation. “There was no reason for him not to say anything.” “All the more reason why I would like to find him and talk to him,” I said. He nodded. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“I want to kill him,” I said bluntly. Malcolm was calm as he placed his and on the table, his fingers drumming quietly against the wood. “Can’t let you do that.” “I’m dead because of him,” I pointed out. “You’re not dead, Lamplight. You’re in some strange inbetween place. But you are far from dead.” “You forgive him for what he did?” “I didn’t say that.” His eyes didn’t meet mine. His posture was relaxed as he leaned back in his seat, staring at his drumming fingers. “I think this is all more complicated than we are speaking of. I think that I am pissed at him for not coming to us and trusting us. I also think there is more to the story and he’s enough of a bastard that even when it all went to shit, he wasn’t going to share the full details because he finds it easier to play the villain than to be forgiven.” “Then we’ll get along just fine,” I said, crossing my arms. Milo wanted to play the villain, I’d let him be one. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“I really don’t know,” I told him. “When I think of Milo and those final moments, I get a mix of emotions. I don’t know whether I should scream, cry, kiss him or kill him.” Malcolm seemed to actually relax at that. “I know the feeling well.” Leaning back in my chair, I tipped my head back to stare despondently at the ceiling. “What am I supposed to even do about all this, Malcolm? Do I stay mad? Do I let him off the hook? Do I hear him out? Every thought, every emotion I have about him feels like they’re at war with each other.” “Do you think talking to him will do anything?” “Do you think he’ll even talk to me?” I asked. “He ran, Malcolm. If anything, that’s what hurts the most. When we started to get closer and closer to the truth, he ran away. And despite my hand in all of this, despite who I am, I cannot quite get past the fact that he still ran. I thought he trusted me. I //wanted// him to trust me.” Malcolm stared at me from across the table, my thoughts and fears all reflected in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You’re not responsible for his actions,” I said. Reaching across the table, he laid a hand on mine. “And neither are you.” I looked away. But wasn't I? Wasn't I responsible for each and every person in this realm? Thankfully, Malcolm did not press. Instead, changing the subject. “Do you know everything that’s been going on?” he asked. “Did you watch any of it?” I had almost forgotten that Malcolm knew. That he had once been in the same liminal state as me, wandering the world. Viewing it all but not being able to interact. “I watched some of it but it’s all pieced together out of order I think. I think I was viewing some things real time. Other things kind of in this memory state.” He nodded. “The lights went out when– when everything happened. We’re talking every single lantern in the market just faded away. Panic started coursing through the streets. People didn’t know what was going on. And at the ball, the goblins started swarming. Ripping up out of the floors and attacking everything. I wasn’t there, but Belladonna later told me that she had never seen such carnage as to what happened that night.” [[All because the lanterns went out?]] [[Do we know what Taliesin was planning with the goblins?]] [[Was it because of what Milo did?]]“And this is all because the lanterns went out?” “You know what they say. People sometimes only need an excuse. As for the walls rotating, I don’t really know what that’s about. I’m assuming it was connected to what was going on with your body at the time. Or your construct. I’ve gotten a look at the ritual since then. It was supposed to kill a part of you to seal off the rest of the world. Maybe you were going into shock.” “I don’t know. I’m irritatingly still cut off from those thoughts.” Malcolm shook his head. “In time, Lamplight. We’ve just got to give it some time. Information is still rolling in. The entire attack at the ball had to do with some species of goblins that Taliesin was trying to keep at bay. The second he was gone, his magic went with him and they came tearing through. The Book Barons are trying to take care of it all. They apparently have some experience with this.” [[Have any gates to the outsider worlds opened since I’ve been gone?]] [[Besides the walls moving, what else is out of control?]] [[How many months has it really been?]] “Do we know what Taliesin was planning that night? Has anything come out about that?” “Not really. He spoke to no one about what he wanted with you. And I can only assume he knew what was going to happen at that ball with the goblins that came tearing through. His people were all out by the time they attacked.” “Then he most certainly knew.” Another crime against him. Another reason to blame him for everything happening now. “The entire attack at the ball had to do with some species of goblins that Taliesin was trying to keep at bay. The second he was gone, his magic went with him and they came tearing through. The Book Barons are trying to take care of it all. They apparently have some experience with this.” [[Have any gates to the outsider worlds opened since I’ve been gone?]] [[Besides the walls moving, what else is out of control?]] [[How many months has it really been?]] “Milo did all of that?” Had he really planned such baseless violence? Malcolm shook his head. “No. I don’t actually think that had anything to do with what was going on with you and Milo. That was all Taliesin. We later learned that there was something Taliesin was doing to keep the goblins from the fae realm at bay. There’s a new breed there that eat through the world's like termites. The second he was gone his magic failed and they came tearing through. The book Barons explained it all later. They are the ones trying to take care of it.” “Have they gotten it under control?” “Yes and no. It’s not as rampant as it used to be but they are still tunneling below the streets. Occasionally they pop up.” <<if $miloro == "true">> It explained what I had seen about Milo. The way they had crawled along the tunnel walls as if they were a part of the stone. They had nearly overtaken him within seconds. If that was what was tunneling through the markets, we were in more danger than I anticipated. <</if>> “They came up through the alley, too,” I told him. “I was able to actually manipulate the alleyway floor and drop them below the market.” Malcolm looked at me in surprise. “Shit,” he said. “That’s… no. That’s good. That’s something. You have access to your abilities now?” “I don’t know. A little, I think. I haven’t tested it out completely. But there are a few things I think I can now do.” “We’ll have to look into that more.” [[Have any gates to the outsider worlds opened since I’ve been gone?]] [[Besides the walls moving, what else is out of control?]] [[How many months has it really been?]] “Have any gates opened since I’ve been gone? Not around us but to the outside realms?” Malcolm shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard of. I’m sure if one did, the guard would be all over it. But the market has been pretty stationary since your departure.” So Milo succeeded. At least in that. “How bad are the streets?” “They’re not moving anymore. In the beginning the walls kept shifting. Blocking people off. Trapping others. I’ve been guessing that was you but I’m going to have to ask officially if it really was.” “I’m assuming it was but I didn’t do any of it consciously.” He nodded as if he already expected as much. “The Guard has set up candles. There are people that go out and monitor them to make sure they continue to burn. Replace the ones that are old. There are way stations for the lost where they are provided with food and shelter. Most of the market has been split. We know through spell work that the other side of the market exists but no one has figured out how to get there or what kind of condition everything is in.” “The Velvet Guard has expanded?” “Volunteer based. People just started showing up and asking what they could do. Gabriel and his men have been mostly taking care of the more violent problems. But the volunteers have been trying to pick up the slack everywhere else. No one has been able to get down to the Playground and see if the orphans are okay. We can sometimes still hear them playing, however, so there’s hope.” A trickling sense of horror curled against my skin. I refused to believe I had trapped them down there purposefully. Or that I had created a nightmare for them to live within. I hoped, more than anything, that what I did had somehow kept them safe. Kept the goblins or the people ready to take advantage of a dying world, locked tightly away. “All this because Milo opened a gate in my chest,” I muttered. Malcolm leaned forward. “I know he is the last person either of us want to talk about. But what happened that night? None of have gotten a clear picture. Milo won’t talk and you’ve been gone. We don’t even know where Taliesin is.” I frowned. “Milo hasn’t come forward at all? Not even to you?” “I’m not saying I haven’t seen him but he hasn’t exactly been cooperative. It would help to hear it from you.” [[I’m still confused about that night]] [[I don’t think it went the way Milo wanted it to]] [[He betrayed us]] [[He was trying to save the market]] “Besides the walls moving, what else is out of control?” I asked him. Desperately I was hoping that he would say nothing. That we only had a few problems to deal with. He winced, however. “I’m not sure that’s a conversation you want to have right now,” he said gently. “And in truth, I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t think I have all the information. I’ve been trying to gather what I can but with the market so closed off and moving every day, I don’t know if I’m accurate on some of my assumptions.” “How bad are the streets?” “They’re not moving anymore. In the beginning the walls kept shifting. Blocking people off. Trapping others. I’ve been guessing that was you but I’m going to have to ask officially if it really was.” “I’m assuming it was but I didn’t do any of it consciously.” He nodded as if he already expected as much. “The Guard has set up candles. There are people that go out and monitor them to make sure they continue to burn. Replace the ones that are old. There are way stations for the lost where they are provided with food and shelter. Most of the market has been split. We know through spell work that the other side of the market exists but no one has figured out how to get there or what kind of condition everything is in.” “The Velvet Guard has expanded?” “Volunteer based. People just started showing up and asking what they could do. Gabriel and his men have been mostly taking care of the more violent problems. But the volunteers have been trying to pick up the slack everywhere else. No one has been able to get down to the Playground and see if the orphans are okay. We can sometimes still hear them playing, however, so there’s hope.” A trickling sense of horror curled against my skin. I refused to believe I had trapped them down there purposefully. Or that I had created a nightmare for them to live within. I hoped, more than anything, that what I did had somehow kept them safe. Kept the goblins or the people ready to take advantage of a dying world, locked tightly away. “All this because Milo opened a gate in my chest,” I muttered. Malcolm leaned forward. “I know he is the last person either of us want to talk about. But what happened that night? None of have gotten a clear picture. Milo won’t talk and you’ve been gone. We don’t even know where Taliesin is.” I frowned. “Milo hasn’t come forward at all? Not even to you?” “I’m not saying I haven’t seen him but he hasn’t exactly been cooperative. It would help to hear it from you.” [[I’m still confused about that night]] [[I don’t think it went the way Milo wanted it to]] [[He betrayed us]] [[He was trying to save the market]] “How many months has it really been? I don’t think my timelines are right.” “It’s been about five,” he told me. “Just long enough for the market life to adjust. Not long enough for it to be safe.” “How bad are the streets?” “They’re not moving anymore. In the beginning the walls kept shifting. Blocking people off. Trapping others. I’ve been guessing that was you but I’m going to have to ask officially if it really was.” “I’m assuming it was but I didn’t do any of it consciously.” He nodded as if he already expected as much. “The Guard has set up candles. There are people that go out and monitor them to make sure they continue to burn. Replace the ones that are old. There are way stations for the lost where they are provided with food and shelter. Most of the market has been split. We know through spell work that the other side of the market exists but no one has figured out how to get there or what kind of condition everything is in.” “The Velvet Guard has expanded?” “Volunteer based. People just started showing up and asking what they could do. Gabriel and his men have been mostly taking care of the more violent problems. But the volunteers have been trying to pick up the slack everywhere else. No one has been able to get down to the Playground and see if the orphans are okay. We can sometimes still hear them playing, however, so there’s hope.” A trickling sense of horror curled against my skin. I refused to believe I had trapped them down there purposefully. Or that I had created a nightmare for them to live within. I hoped, more than anything, that what I did had somehow kept them safe. Kept the goblins or the people ready to take advantage of a dying world, locked tightly away. “All this because Milo opened a gate in my chest,” I muttered. Malcolm leaned forward. “I know he is the last person either of us want to talk about. But what happened that night? None of have gotten a clear picture. Milo won’t talk and you’ve been gone. We don’t even know where Taliesin is.” I frowned. “Milo hasn’t come forward at all? Not even to you?” “I’m not saying I haven’t seen him but he hasn’t exactly been cooperative. It would help to hear it from you.” [[I’m still confused about that night]] [[I don’t think it went the way Milo wanted it to]] [[He betrayed us]] [[He was trying to save the market]] “Everything about that night feels off. Confusing. Like it happened to someone else. <<if $appearance == "different">> ”Given that you look a little different, I’m sure it’s bound to feel that way.” I startled. I had forgotten that I changed my appearance. Reaching up, I ghosted my fingers over my skin. “I forgot.” “I noticed,” he said with a small smile. “And, it suits you.”<</if>> Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, looking up at the bright lights embedded into the bakery ceiling. “I tried to go back. To view those moments leading up to it all. It was blocked. Which just adds even more to the confusion.” “Talking to Milo might be the way to clear the air. And I say that as someone that can barely get through a conversation with him without biting the inside of my cheek.” “Does anyone know yet what his logic was for all this?” There were holes that I could fill in based on what I had observed before coming down to the market streets. But after I was here, there was a blank spot. I was not as omnipotent as I had once been. “He’s explained nothing to me. To anyone. As far as it looks to anyone around us, he hid being the Gatekeeper the entire time, went to the ball, and then killed you.” “What do you believe?” “Me? I know there’s more to it. I figured some of it out. He called you forward. He then sent you back. I don’t know why, though.” I tipped my head up towards the sky. “To close the gates.” “That’s not how the world works,” he said in frustration. “I know. But he doesn’t seem to know that.” “He should. He’s not a dumb man. He should know far better. The only thing I can think of is he either got in over his head and panicked, or he was played.” [[Or he betrayed me]] [[He got in over his head]] [[Taliesin was involved somehow]] “I don’t think anything about that night went the way Milo wanted it to,” I said. “Oh, I can almost guarantee that,” Malcolm answer. “Thus is his life, really.” “Do you think he meant to kill me?” “I don't know” he told me truthfully. <<if $miloro == "true">> “He certainly didn’t mean to fall in love. But, how could he not? You are everything he needs.” “I don’t know if I believe that.” “Take it from someone who has majored in the unspoken words of Milo Next. You matter to him. And you being gone has killed off a part of him.<</if>> “Do you know where he is?” I asked. I didn’t think I needed to clarify who. “I do.” “But you’re not going to tell me?” “I didn’t say that. I just want to make sure you actually want to know.” “Does anyone know yet what his logic was for all this?” There were holes that I could fill in based on what I had observed before coming down to the market streets. But after I was here, there was a blank spot. I was not as omnipotent as I had once been. “He’s explained nothing to me. To anyone. As far as it looks to anyone around us, he hid being the Gatekeeper the entire time, went to the ball, and then killed you.” “What do you believe?” “Me? I know there’s more to it. I figured some of it out. He called you forward. He then sent you back. I don’t know why, though.” I tipped my head up towards the sky. “To close the gates.” “That’s not how the world works,” he said in frustration. “I know. But he doesn’t seem to know that.” “He should. He’s not a dumb man. He should know far better. The only thing I can think of is he either got in over his head and panicked, or he was played.” [[Or he betrayed me]] [[He got in over his head]] [[Taliesin was involved somehow]] “He betrayed us. You know that right? We were doing so much, trying to find the Barons, trying to find the Gatekeeper, and he didn’t say a word. He took our trust and sacrificed it. And for what?” Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, weighing his words carefully. “I don’t know what I can say to you that won’t sound like I’m defending him.” “Are you?” “Yes and no. I’m not defending what he did. Or how he went about it. But I’m also not vilifying him when I don't know the entire story. Either way, morality, right and wrong. They all have these really funny shades of grey to them.” “Do you know where he is?” I asked. I didn’t think I needed to clarify who. “I do.” “But you’re not going to tell me?” “I didn’t say that. I just want to make sure you actually want to know.” “Does anyone know yet what his logic was for all this?” There were holes that I could fill in based on what I had observed before coming down to the market streets. But after I was here, there was a blank spot. I was not as omnipotent as I had once been. “He’s explained nothing to me. To anyone. As far as it looks to anyone around us, he hid being the Gatekeeper the entire time, went to the ball, and then killed you.” “What do you believe?” “Me? I know there’s more to it. I figured some of it out. He called you forward. He then sent you back. I don’t know why, though.” I tipped my head up towards the sky. “To close the gates.” “That’s not how the world works,” he said in frustration. “I know. But he doesn’t seem to know that.” “He should. He’s not a dumb man. He should know far better. The only thing I can think of is he either got in over his head and panicked, or he was played.” [[Or he betrayed me]] [[He got in over his head]] [[Taliesin was involved somehow]] “He was trying to save the market,” I told him. “The way he went about it is something to discuss but he was genuinely trying to stop the gates from opening. I was overriding him, trying to save the other worlds out there. I can hear them, Malcolm. All the time. I can hear the worlds that are screaming in pain and I think I was just trying to make them stop.” “So what? Milo closed you off from all that?” “Each gate that opened split me apart. I think he was trying to force a stop.” “But why not give you that choice?” “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t know me like h thought he did. Maybe he thought that if it came down to it, I’d still do what I wanted as opposed to saving the billions that exist within the market itself. Or, maybe he just couldn’t figure out how to talk to me. It’s not like this,” I gestured to myself, “knew what was going on in the beginning.” “But you do now?” It was far more complicated than that. “Does anyone know yet what his logic was for all this?” There were holes that I could fill in based on what I had observed before coming down to the market streets. But after I was here, there was a blank spot. I was not as omnipotent as I had once been. “He’s explained nothing to me. To anyone. As far as it looks to anyone around us, he hid being the Gatekeeper the entire time, went to the ball, and then killed you.” “What do you believe?” “Me? I know there’s more to it. I figured some of it out. He called you forward. He then sent you back. I don’t know why, though.” I tipped my head up towards the sky. “To close the gates.” “That’s not how the world works,” he said in frustration. “I know. But he doesn’t seem to know that.” “He should. He’s not a dumb man. He should know far better. The only thing I can think of is he either got in over his head and panicked, or he was played.” [[Or he betrayed me]] [[He got in over his head]] [[Taliesin was involved somehow]] I walked into the clock shop an hour later. Kimber had kept me company and at one point, I watched as Turner came down the steps from the fire escape, keeping his head low as he slipped inside his shop. The open sign was never flipped on but I had a suspicion that it never really was. When I entered, I spied Herald already up front. Turner was standing next to him, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “I just need you to look at it, Turner,” the bigger man reasoned. “It looks like a clock, Herald. I already looked. What the fuck do you even want from me?” Turner was tapping his foot and twitching his fingers against his arms. A nervous tick of some sort. He looked very much like a man that was making an effort not to hide. “It’s a grave clock,” Herald explained. “The soul is up and walking around, but the body is not supposed to arise yet. The clocks not even tickin’. Can’t you take a look at it and tell me if anything funny is goin’ on in there.” Turner sighed. “Didn’t you say that this soul is the Night Market incarnate? You think something like the Night Market operates in the same way as us other poor idiots? Because I’m going to be incredibly disappointed if a cosmic being doesn’t get some fucking perks in this fucking world.” I let the door close behind me, both pairs of eyes turning towards where I stood. “Afternoon, $name,” Herald said, tipping his head towards me. “Afternoon? How the fuck can you even tell?” Turner grumbled. [[You curse a lot]] [[I would really appreciate your help]] [[I hear you’re the expert on clocks]]“You curse a lot,” I said, head cocked to the side. I was pretty sure every other word out of his mouth was fuck. “Because it’s my fucking life and my fucking shop and I will say fuck as much as I fucking want.” “Now Turner,” Herald warned. Turner practically growled in irritation. “Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am told that I can be abrasive.” Herald smiled down gently at him, running a hand down his arms in comfort. I watched as Turner relaxed beneath his grip. “Turner, can you please just take a look at ?their clock?” he asked. I watched the way he subtly moved back, brushing against Herald, a stubborn twist to his lips. “I’ll fucking look at it but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to be able to tell a damn thing about it.” Grabbing the clock from the counter, he rounded the counter to a small work bench in the back and began to grab at his tools. “Did you hear any ticking when you were dead?” [[Yes]] [[No]] [[Technically I wasn't dead]] “I would really appreciate your help,” I implored, looking at the clocksmith with what I hoped was an approachable expression. The man seemed like he was one wrong look into biting someone's face off. I was pretty certain when it came to Herald, he would have attacked anyone who even looked at the man wrong. “And I would really like some peace and fucking quiet,” Turner snapped. “But I live in a one-room apartment with two other adults and a baby who gnaws on the table legs.” “I told you,” Herald whispered in concern. “If you’re not sleepin’, I’ll watch the shop and you can take a nap at my place.” Turner deflated, stepping closer to Herald. “It’s alright. You’ve got a lot to do. I don’t want you to have to take care of me.” “I’ll always take care of you,” Herald whispered. “Shut up.” There was a blush on the man's cheek as he snatched up my clock. “I’ll fucking look at this thing but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to be able to tell a damn thing about it.” Grabbing the clock from the counter, he rounded the counter to a small work bench in the back and began to grab at his tools. “Did you hear any ticking when you were dead?” [[Yes]] [[No]] [[Technically I wasn't dead]]“I hear you’re the expert on clocks,” I said, walking into the room. I had to watch where my feet landed for fear that I was going to step on something important and crack it. “I’m the fucking authority on clocks,” he said. “Pretty sure that means expert, Turner,” Herald said with a small smile. Turner didn’t look at him. Only rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “Doesn’t mean I’ll be able to solve your clock problem,” he told me. “Grave clocks are an enigma. Ran mostly by magic. They don’t follow the laws of actual clocks which is why I hate them. They don’t make fucking sense.” Herald placed a hand on the small of his back. “Just do your best. I know you’ll be able to help.” I watched the way he subtly moved back, a stubborn twist to his lips. “I’ll fucking look at it but it doesn’t mean that I’m going to be able to tell a damn thing about it.” Grabbing the clock from the counter, he rounded the counter to a small work bench in the back and began to grab at his tools. “Did you hear any ticking when you were dead?” [[Yes]] [[No]] [[Technically I wasn't dead]]“Yes,” I said. It was like a persistent chirp in my ear. It was enough to drive anyone that listened to it day in and day out, completely insane. Yet, it was only now that I realized I no longer heard it. “It’s not important, really,” he said. “Was just curious. Working on a theory of mine.” He began taking the back off, looking at the inner workings. “And you came back on your own? Herald didn’t pull you out? Victor didn’t maniacally laugh over your grave?” “I was kind of wandering in this in between world and then I found a door here. I was walking around this alley for a bit before I became corporeal. Herald could see me, though.” Turner made an odd little noise in the back of his throat. “Well, what the fuck happened to make you corporeal?” “You kind of saw it.” “Yeah, but what were you thinking. That’s probably the key. Because this damn clock is not broken. It’s a generic Bulova pocket watch. There are hundreds of these in this shop alone. No bells. No whistles. Not even made out of a particularly decent metal. The only thing I can see about it that is a little odd is there is an extra cog in here that is black instead of plated silver. But that could just be wear and tear.” Screwing the back of the clock together, he tossed it to me. I caught it, staring down at it in my hand. The thing that was supposed to tell me to come back to life was dead in my palm. “Noting else you can tell?” Herald asked. Turner shook his head. “Nope. It’s a pocket watch, Herald. Everything looks fine. If it’s not working, it could just be that it's done. That it can’t work anymore. Clocks are temperamental. I’ve told you that. They shouldn’t be out in the elements of the fucking graveyard and if you want less of them dying on you then you need to get climate controlled boxed around each grave.” “I know, Turner. I know.” “So I’m back to square one then? No lead?” It felt so oddly familiar that I felt as if history was trying to repeat itself. It was up to me to make sure that it didn’t. “There has to be something else I can do. Herald, is there any other way that people come back?” “Not that I know of,” Herald said. “Usually the clocks start ticking and that’s when I know to dig someone up and get them into my father's lab.” Turner was already grabbing other clocks, beginning to fiddle with them. “Well, have you dug ?them up?” Herald looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean, is your body even in there anymore?” Turner asked. “Has anyone looked?” It was a morbid thought all on its own, exhuming a body like that. But now that he said it, I found myself very curious just what state that avatar body was in, six feet beneath the ground. “I say you two dig up the body. Because if this clock is a dud, I’m going to bet it's because there's no life in there that it is supposed to be clicking down to.” I looked at Herald. “Could you do that? I don’t know if I can leave the alley.” “You were in the graveyard before. Do you think you could retrace your steps?” [[I can try]] [[I’ll just take the tunnel passage]] [[I’ll just take the foot bridge]] “No,” I told him. “There was only silence.” So much silence. The kind that made you wonder if you ever existed to begin with. “It’s not important, really,” he said. “Was just curious. Working on a theory of mine.” He began taking the back off, looking at the inner workings. “And you came back on your own? Herald didn’t pull you out? Victor didn’t maniacally laugh over your grave?” “I was kind of wandering in this in between world and then I found a door here. I was walking around this alley for a bit before I became corporeal. Herald could see me, though.” Turner made an odd little noise in the back of his throat. “Well, what the fuck happened to make you corporeal?” “You kind of saw it.” “Yeah, but what were you thinking. That’s probably the key. Because this damn clock is not broken. It’s a generic Bulova pocket watch. There are hundreds of these in this shop alone. No bells. No whistles. Not even made out of a particularly decent metal. The only thing I can see about it that is a little odd is there is an extra cog in here that is black instead of plated silver. But that could just be wear and tear.” Screwing the back of the clock together, he tossed it to me. I caught it, staring down at it in my hand. The thing that was supposed to tell me to come back to life was dead in my palm. “Noting else you can tell?” Herald asked. Turner shook his head. “Nope. It’s a pocket watch, Herald. Everything looks fine. If it’s not working, it could just be that it's done. That it can’t work anymore. Clocks are temperamental. I’ve told you that. They shouldn’t be out in the elements of the fucking graveyard and if you want less of them dying on you then you need to get climate controlled boxed around each grave.” “I know, Turner. I know.” “So I’m back to square one then? No lead?” It felt so oddly familiar that I felt as if history was trying to repeat itself. It was up to me to make sure that it didn’t. “There has to be something else I can do. Herald, is there any other way that people come back?” “Not that I know of,” Herald said. “Usually the clocks start ticking and that’s when I know to dig someone up and get them into my father's lab.” Turner was already grabbing other clocks, beginning to fiddle with them. “Well, have you dug ?them up?” Herald looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean, is your body even in there anymore?” Turner asked. “Has anyone looked?” It was a morbid thought all on its own, exhuming a body like that. But now that he said it, I found myself very curious just what state that avatar body was in, six feet beneath the ground. “I say you two dig up the body. Because if this clock is a dud, I’m going to bet it's because there's no life in there that it is supposed to be clicking down to.” I looked at Herald. “Could you do that? I don’t know if I can leave the alley.” “You were in the graveyard before. Do you think you could retrace your steps?” [[I can try]] [[I’ll just take the tunnel passage]] [[I’ll just take the foot bridge]] “Technically, I wasn’t dead. If I was dead, this entire world would have gone.” “Fine,” he said. “Did you hear clicking when you were undead?” “I don’t really remember.” “It’s not important, really,” he said. “Was just curious. Working on a theory of mine.” He began taking the back off, looking at the inner workings. “And you came back on your own? Herald didn’t pull you out? Victor didn’t maniacally laugh over your grave?” “I was kind of wandering in this in between world and then I found a door here. I was walking around this alley for a bit before I became corporeal. Herald could see me, though.” Turner made an odd little noise in the back of his throat. “Well, what the fuck happened to make you corporeal?” “You kind of saw it.” “Yeah, but what were you thinking. That’s probably the key. Because this damn clock is not broken. It’s a generic Bulova pocket watch. There are hundreds of these in this shop alone. No bells. No whistles. Not even made out of a particularly decent metal. The only thing I can see about it that is a little odd is there is an extra cog in here that is black instead of plated silver. But that could just be wear and tear.” Screwing the back of the clock together, he tossed it to me. I caught it, staring down at it in my hand. The thing that was supposed to tell me to come back to life was dead in my palm. “Noting else you can tell?” Herald asked. Turner shook his head. “Nope. It’s a pocket watch, Herald. Everything looks fine. If it’s not working, it could just be that it's done. That it can’t work anymore. Clocks are temperamental. I’ve told you that. They shouldn’t be out in the elements of the fucking graveyard and if you want less of them dying on you then you need to get climate controlled boxed around each grave.” “I know, Turner. I know.” “So I’m back to square one then? No lead?” It felt so oddly familiar that I felt as if history was trying to repeat itself. It was up to me to make sure that it didn’t. “There has to be something else I can do. Herald, is there any other way that people come back?” “Not that I know of,” Herald said. “Usually the clocks start ticking and that’s when I know to dig someone up and get them into my father's lab.” Turner was already grabbing other clocks, beginning to fiddle with them. “Well, have you dug ?them up?” Herald looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean, is your body even in there anymore?” Turner asked. “Has anyone looked?” It was a morbid thought all on its own, exhuming a body like that. But now that he said it, I found myself very curious just what state that avatar body was in, six feet beneath the ground. “I say you two dig up the body. Because if this clock is a dud, I’m going to bet it's because there's no life in there that it is supposed to be clicking down to.” I looked at Herald. “Could you do that? I don’t know if I can leave the alley.” “You were in the graveyard before. Do you think you could retrace your steps?” [[I can try]] [[I’ll just take the tunnel passage]] [[I’ll just take the foot bridge]] “I can try. I’d have to meet you there. I don’t think you’ll be able to go through my window,” I told him. At that, Turner laughed, a handsome smile coming over his face. “Big old monster climbing through the fucking window,” he said. “Yeah, that’s probably not something you should do. Iblis will see it from the window above and think its fun.” Herald wrapped his arm around Turners shoulder. “Alright. How about we meet you there?” “I got work, Herald,” Turner suddenly groused. “No you don’t. You refuse to sell clocks.” The glare that Turner shot him was full of mirth. I quickly left the shop, slipping away so they could settle that between each other. Back in my room, the door that I had come through stood tall. There was the faint glow of a soft grey light around it and as I rested my hand on the brass doorknob, I tried not to think of that fact that I was walking into the recesses of my mind. “Okay,” I said with a deep breath. “Just need to get to the graveyard. That’s all. Not spending time in here.” With mustered confidence, I opened the door, hoping I could navigate back towards the cemetery. A bone white mask jumped out at me with a scream. A crying figure launching itself towards me with a wail of sorrow. I jumped, stumbling backwards, but all was quiet. Nothing stood before me but the graveyard itself. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to discern what exactly had just happened. I heard the faint sound of Taliesin's’ bells somewhere off in the distance. “Took you long enough.” Turner’s voice came through loud and clear as I stepped through the door to the loamy hill that was at the base of the cemetery. Both the clock smith and Herald leaned against a nearby tree. “I just left you two. How did you get here so quick?” Herald tipped his head to the side. “It’s been nearly an hour.” “That impossible.” I hadn’t even wandered through the grey halls of the market. The graveyard had somehow just appeared. “Impossible or not, it’s fucking cold. Can we go do this?” Turner pushed off the tree, shoving past both Herald and I. I glanced at the bigger man, my mind reeling a bit. But I didn’t know what else to say. [[Next|Chapter Two 2]] <<set $path to "door">>“I’ll just take the tunnel passage,” I told them. The grinding sound of gears pushed together. Stopping as Turner frowned in my direction. “There’s no tunnel passage to the graveyard.” “Yes there is,” I said in confusion. Turning, I pointed out beyond the shop. There was my little window with a box of hibernating flowers outside, and an arched tunnel in the wall next to it, with an intricate vine of gold ivy growing around the opening. “That was not there before,” Turner shouted, pointing at the bridge. “No, it was not,” Herald said slowly, getting up to investigate. I followed him out. The alley looked unchanged. Walking onto the cobbled streets, I saw the bakery down the way. The cave of gems and next to the clock shop, my little apartment window. The tunnel that led to the graveyard was made out of oversized stone and was lit with bioluminescent flowers that seemed to breathe along with my own heart beat. “See?” I said. “The tunnel that leads to the graveyard.” I stared at it along with Herald. The tunnel. The one that I knew was there. The one that //hadn’t// been there when I first walked into the clock shop. “Wait,” I said slowly. “Did I…?” “I think you might have discovered some of your abilities,” Herald said. “You should try and walk through.” Slowly, I stepped over the thresh hold of the tunnel, the flowers dipping towards me before pulling back and brushing the walls with a thin layer of golden pollen. I still felt solid. My feet could lift unlike before. One foot in front of the other, I stepped onto the tunnel path, holding my breath until I found myself on the other side, out in the open air of the graveyard. Looking back, I saw Artisan Alley in its green light, Herald standing on the other side watching me and Turner coming out from the shop to stand by his side. “Alright then,” Herald said. “Let’s go dig up your body.” Turner wrinkled his nose. “I hate how naturally you said that.” [[Next|Chapter Two 2]] <<set $path to "tunnel">>“I’ll just take the footbridge to the graveyard,” I told him. The grinding sound of gears pushed together, stopping as Turner frowned in my direction. “There’s no footbridge to the graveyard.” “Yes there is,” I said in confusion. Turning, I pointed out beyond the shop. There was my little window with a box of hibernating flowers outside, and a small footbridge that went up and over a low portion of the wall towards the beginning dirt path up to the graveyard. “That was not there before,” Turner shouted, pointing at the bridge. “No, it was not,” Herald said slowly, getting up to investigate. I followed him out. The alley hadn’t looked as if it had changed. Walking onto the cobbled streets, I saw the bakery down the way. The cave of gems and next to the clock shop, my little apartment window. The foot bridge that led to the graveyard was made out of river stone with tealight candles on the apex of the entrance and exit, flickering across the path. “See?” I said. “The footbridge that leads to the graveyard.” I stared at it along with Herald. The footbridge. The one that I knew was there. The one that //hadn’t// been there when I first walked into the clock shop. “Wait,” I said slowly. “Did I…?” “I think you might have discovered some of your abilities,” Herald said. “You should try and cross it.” Slowly, I placed my foot on the edge of the bridge. I still felt solid. My feet could lift unlike before. One foot in front of the other, I stepped across the bridge, holding my breath until my feet hit the dirt on the other side. Looking back, I saw Artisan Alley in its green light, Herald standing on the other side watching me and Turner coming out from the shop to stand by his side. “Alright then,” Herald said. “Let’s go dig up your body.” Turner wrinkled his nose. “I hate how naturally you said that.” [[Next|Chapter Two 2]] <<set $path to "bridge">> We stopped off at a small shed to get a few shovels before heading to our grave. Turner, despite his grumbling, came with us, keeping close to Herald. I watched the two of them, the bigger man just nodding his head at any of Turners complaints until the man calmed down at bit and just fell in step by our side. I was a bit surprised when he grabbed a shovel himself, slinging it over his shoulder as we walked towards my grave. “Don’t over exert yourself,” I heard Herald whisper to him. Turner looked at him with a narrow gaze but I could see the compassion that was on his face. “I’ll be fine.” “Spend the night tonight?” “Yeah,” Turner mumbled, kicking his dirty sneakers into the soil. The sound of iron sinking into the wet earth filed the graveyard. I had been gone long enough that grass had begun to grow over the top of the churned grave, coming up to curl around my headstone. “Why did you bury ?them so deep,” Turner said, slinging some dirt over his shoulder. “So no animals will dig up the body,” Herald replied pragmatically. I took my own shovel, beginning to unbury me, all the while wondering what exactly we would find. It was hard to think of anyone putting me in a coffin. Closing the lid and lowering me into the ground. I wondered if they had a service. If other people besides Belladonna, Gabriel, Hazel and Malcolm stood at my grave that day. <<if $miloro == "true">> I wondered if Milo stood in the shadows, silently holding vigil over his mistakes.<</if>> There was a thunk as we hit the outside of the coffin. “Hop on out, you two,” Herald drawled. Turner got out first, offering his hand to pull me upwards as well. When we were both safely on the ground, Herald got an arm under the coffin, hoisting it up onto his shoulder like it was nothing. He then took the small wooden ladder, the weight of him and the coffin causing the wood rungs to creak ominous. But Herald made it up without the ladder breaking, gently resting the coffin on the ground. He didn’t pry it open immediately. His soft blue eyes were boring into mine as he stood between me and the body that had been buried. “I can look in here for you,” he said. “So you don’t have to see it.” “Shit,” Turner murmured. “Yeah. You might not want to see worms eating away at you. That’s a little fucked up.” [[Step away]] [[Let me see]] “Yeah, I don’t think I have the stomach for this,” I said, stepping away and turning my back to the grave itself. I could hear the sound of the crowbar as the wood splintered beneath the tool. There was a loud creak as the lid was lifted and then… surprise. “Um,” Turner said. “You chew through it or something?” I ignored him as I turned towards the grave itself. There was a faint ringing sound in the air. Something I hadn’t realized before because it was just a persistent noise throughout the graveyard. It had gotten louder since opening the grave, however. Looking down, there was a small window shaped hatch in the bottom of the grave. Light was emitting from beneath it, casting the dirt walls in a faint swirling glow. “That’s a gate,” I told them. Herald frowned in confusion, wiping the dirt from his brow. “I thought the gates were supposed to all be closed.” “Gates to the other worlds are,” I said, stepping closer and closer to the grave. “I don’t know if the ones between market districts are.” In fact, to answer that kind of question, we’d have to ask the Gatekeeper. “Shit,” I muttered. “Well, you’re the Night Market,” Turner said. “Fuckin’ just open it up. Maybe your body fell through there.” [[I don’t mess with gates]] [[That’s not my job]] [[Try to open the hatch]]“I want to see,” I said firmly, stepping towards the coffin. Herald nodded once, not fighting my decision. With a crowbar, he pried open the lid, revealing the inside. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Of course it was lined with red silk. A touch that I was sure was insisted upon by Belladonna.<</if>> I had to admit, it looked plush. A comfortable resting place for my undying moments here in the realm. Except, the problem was, there was no body. Only a hole in the bottom of the coffin that allowed bits of wayward grass and dirt to peek through. “Um,” Turner said. “You chew through it or something?” I ignored him as I turned towards the grave itself. There was a faint ringing sound in the air. Something I hadn’t realized before because it was just a persistent noise throughout the graveyard. It had gotten louder since opening the grave, however. Looking down, there was a small window shaped hatch in the bottom of the grave. Light was emitting from beneath it, casting the dirt walls in a faint swirling glow. “That’s a gate,” I told them. Herald frowned in confusion, wiping the dirt from his brow. “I thought the gates were supposed to all be closed.” “Gates to the other worlds are,” I said, stepping closer and closer to the grave. “I don’t know if the ones between market districts are.” In fact, to answer that kind of question, we’d have to ask the Gatekeeper. “Shit,” I muttered. “Well, you’re the Night Market,” Turner said. “Fuckin’ just open it up. Maybe your body fell through there.” [[I don’t mess with gates]] [[That’s not my job]] [[Try to open the hatch]] “I don’t mess with gates,” I said immediately. “Or, at least I try not to.” Apparently me messing with gates is what got us into this predicament to begin with. //A flash of a crying child. A woman begging for her life. A man on his knees in despair.// I reeled back. “You alright?” Turner asked, hand gentle on my elbow. “Yeah,” I breathed, not quite sure what I had seen. “Just, gates are not my thing.” "I don't really know if you should mess with it," Turner said. "Looks kind of like a bomb waiting to go off." "Then what else are we supposed to do?" I asked, still staring at the thing. It felt as if it were calling me. "Find a professional?" Turner suggested. [[You're probably right|No. You're probably right]] [[It's my body though. My responsibility|It's my body]] “That’s not my job,” I told him. For some reason, we had designated the job of controlling each and every gate to and from this world to one individual only. The second I could get back in power and change some things, that was the first that was going. "Probably need to get the person down here who has that job then," Turner said. "Because that gate isn't supposed to be there and that means something shitty is going on." "Not always," Herald said, still examining the gate itself. "You don't think that's weird?" he asked, pointing at the door. "I think it's odd," Herald agreed. "But not the oddest thing I've seen." "I don't really know if you should mess with it," Turner said. "Looks kind of like a bomb waiting to go off." "Then what else are we supposed to do?" I asked, still staring at the thing. It felt as if it were calling me. "Find a professional?" Turner suggested. [[You're probably right|No. You're probably right]] [[It's my body though. My responsibility|It's my body]] Hopping down into the hole, I tried not to step on the hatch itself. Though it looked solid, I didn’t want to take my chances. A golden piece of swirling glass surrounded the outside of the wooden structure. I could see within the tube itself, small flecks of sunshine twisting around, emitting heat to the surrounding earth. Sprigs of clover were starting to pop up all around the door, mingling together with underground moss. All of which was slowly growing across the door itself. I looked around for some sort of pull but didn’t see where I could grab to open the hatch itself. The dirt around it felt compacted together and as I tried to dig my fingers into it, I was met with what felt like concrete. I shook my head, looking back up at Herald. “I don’t think I can open it. Maybe a tool of some sort? A trowel?” “Alright, so while I said you should mess with it I now have to be an adult and ask. You sure you want to even be messin’ with that?” Turner was shifting. Looking nervous. I wondered how many people even listened to him. “For all we know that thing is what’s keeping the market together.” “I am the market.” “Exactly,” he reasoned. “So why are you going to stick a trowel in your head?” I glanced down at the hatch. “That might not be my head.” “I’m sorry, $name. Turner might be right here. Even though he was a bit late in the uptake,” Herald said. “I don’t know if we should be stabbing at that. It looks kind of important.” [[Continue to try and open it]] [[It's my body]] [[No. You're probably right]] I couldn’t hear them. There was a sense of urgency that came over me when I looked at the gate. It was as if it was every moment that I craved all wrapped up into one. My past, present and future sang to me behind that door and all that separated me from it was small pieces of wood and glass. Without thinking, I began to tear at the door, digging my fingers beneath the seam and trying to pry it from the grave. But no matter how I swore, no matter how I yanked and pulled, it remained pristine. A pretty little barrier mocking me. Barring me from the life I wanted. “What would you like me to do with your coffin?” Herald asked. We couldn’t just leave the grave open for anyone to see. Yet. I wanted to make sure we had easy access to the gate, too. In case it became important. Before I could say anything, Turner was already kneeling by the coffin itself, tipping his head this way and that. “So, I could punch out the bottom of it and we could rest it above the open grave like you do some of the other ones when you’re waiting for a body or having just exhumed one. We’ll have to put it on supports but essentially what we can do is lock the top of this off and just have it sitting here. No one ever really messes with them. But then when we need to look at the gate or whatever the fuck that is, we can open it up and just climb on down with a ladder.” I stared at him. The angry little clock smith who was now my next door neighbor, offering the best solution I had heard. “Yeah,” I said. “Do that.” Turner got up and looked at Herald. “Gonna go invade your dads tools. I’ll talk to you later.” “Alright, Turner. I’ll see ya for dinner tonight.” Turner was about to disappear in the dark but then stopped, as if thinking better of it. Running back up to Herald he quickly planted a kiss on the man's stitched cheek. As if he had forgotten and felt immediately guilty for doing so. The smile he received from the bigger man had him ducking his head and shuffling out of the graveyard while muttering something under his breath. My foot was at the edge of the grave, dirty falling down onto the glowing glass. Bits of debris fell to the side, leaving the glass itself shining and clean. “I’ll cover this up with a tarp until Turner gets the contraption built up. Knowing him, it’ll be done by the night.” “Thank you, Herald.” “Of course. Just sorry it’s not as easy of an answer as we had hoped it would be.” I felt a bitter amount of laughter choke me. “It never is.” [[Next|Chapter Two 3]]“It’s my body,” I protested. “I should get a say in what is happening to it. I should be able to make the choices concerning it.” I didn’t realize I was panting, my non-existent heart racing in my chest. Did I even have a heart? Did the Night Market even need to breathe? Herald’s heavy hand came down upon my shoulder. “And you will,” he said calmly. “But let’s not do somethin’ that’s going to end up hurting you. We’ll take a step back and think and if what is decided is we go in there and dig you up, I’ll help you out.” My head hung in defeat. He was right. Of course he was right. It didn’t mean I had to like it. “What would you like me to do with your coffin?” Herald asked. We couldn’t just leave the grave open for anyone to see. Yet. I wanted to make sure we had easy access to the gate, too. In case it became important. Before I could say anything, Turner was already kneeling by the coffin itself, tipping his head this way and that. “So, I could punch out the bottom of it and we could rest it above the open grave like you do some of the other ones when you’re waiting for a body or having just exhumed one. We’ll have to put it on supports but essentially what we can do is lock the top of this off and just have it sitting here. No one ever really messes with them. But then when we need to look at the gate or whatever the fuck that is, we can open it up and just climb on down with a ladder.” I stared at him. The angry little clock smith who was now my next door neighbor, offering the best solution I had heard. “Yeah,” I said. “Do that.” Turner got up and looked at Herald. “Gonna go invade your dads tools. I’ll talk to you later.” “Alright, Turner. I’ll see ya for dinner tonight.” Turner was about to disappear in the dark but then stopped, as if thinking better of it. Running back up to Herald he quickly planted a kiss on the man's stitched cheek. As if he had forgotten and felt immediately guilty for doing so. The smile he received from the bigger man had him ducking his head and shuffling out of the graveyard while muttering something under his breath. My foot was at the edge of the grave, dirty falling down onto the glowing glass. Bits of debris fell to the side, leaving the glass itself shining and clean. “I’ll cover this up with a tarp until Turner gets the contraption built up. Knowing him, it’ll be done by the night.” “Thank you, Herald.” “Of course. Just sorry it’s not as easy of an answer as we had hoped it would be.” I felt a bitter amount of laughter choke me. “It never is.” [[Next|Chapter Two 3]]“No, you’re probably right. I just got excited.” Hopping out of the grave, I looked down at it. The place where my body was supposed to lie. The fact that I wasn’t there wasn’t so concerning to me. Honestly, if there was a body lying beneath the dirt, that would have been stranger somehow. But that there was a gate? One that was active and yet closed? That was a little harder to deal with. I stared down at the intricate lines that surrounded the door. The way the wood grain seemed to shift and move like windblown sand. The gold flakes that swirled within the glass shifted into small corners of memories that were kept alive only through sight now. Misinterpreted from their original conception. “What would you like me to do with your coffin?” Herald asked. We couldn’t just leave the grave open for anyone to see. Yet. I wanted to make sure we had easy access to the gate, too. In case it became important. Before I could say anything, Turner was already kneeling by the coffin itself, tipping his head this way and that. “So, I could punch out the bottom of it and we could rest it above the open grave like you do some of the other ones when you’re waiting for a body or having just exhumed one. We’ll have to put it on supports but essentially what we can do is lock the top of this off and just have it sitting here. No one ever really messes with them. But then when we need to look at the gate or whatever the fuck that is, we can open it up and just climb on down with a ladder.” I stared at him. The angry little clock smith who was now my next door neighbor, offering the best solution I had heard. “Yeah,” I said. “Do that.” Turner got up and looked at Herald. “Gonna go invade your dads tools. I’ll talk to you later.” “Alright, Turner. I’ll see ya for dinner tonight.” Turner was about to disappear in the dark but then stopped, as if thinking better of it. Running back up to Herald he quickly planted a kiss on the man's stitched cheek. As if he had forgotten and felt immediately guilty for doing so. The smile he received from the bigger man had him ducking his head and shuffling out of the graveyard while muttering something under his breath. My foot was at the edge of the grave, dirty falling down onto the glowing glass. Bits of debris fell to the side, leaving the glass itself shining and clean. “I’ll cover this up with a tarp until Turner gets the contraption built up. Knowing him, it’ll be done by the night.” “Thank you, Herald.” “Of course. Just sorry it’s not as easy of an answer as we had hoped it would be.” I felt a bitter amount of laughter choke me. “It never is.” [[Next|Chapter Two 3]] I went back to the little apartment with only the window for the door. Climbing through, I felt my feet hit the ground, realizing they were bare. The unevenness of the stone outside had not registered to me as I walked and it was only now that I took stock of my own clothing. Shapeless garments that were grey in color. “Great,” I muttered, making a mental note to go back to the Fashion District and buy some more suitable clothing. “Or, you could just look in your wardrobe.” Pen leaned against the wall. Right where the door had been that I had originally walked through. “Being the Night Market must come with an array of beautiful fashions.” “How did you get in here?” “I’m death, my friend. I can go wherever. Whenever.” $HisHer face screwed up a little. “Except cafe’s that are on the corner of alleys. I’m not allowed there.” I would have said $heshe was kidding but I had seen $himher try to enter one once and they got violently ejected. “Come on then,” Pen said, gesturing to the wardrobe. “Fashion show please.” Walking over to the closet, I opened it. There was nothing but cobwebs. “Apparently I’m not that powerful yet.” Pen frowned. “Boring. What’s the use of being you if you’re not going to look fabulous?” Tipping my head to the side, I willed some clothes into existence. Still nothing. Shutting the door, I simply turned to Pen with a sigh. “I am often questioning what the point is to being me,” I told $himher. “Ooooo,” $heshe hissed. “Now that is an existential crisis just waiting to come screaming out. But, I might have something to help with that.” Pulling from $hisher pocket a small cord of braided metal, $heshe rattled it at me. A tiny little skull hung off the end of it. “Tada,” $heshe crooned. “Tada what?” I took the pendent from $himher. It felt oddly light in my hands. “It is my own special design. A Merripen original.” “What does it do?” “Allows you to walk freely from this alley.’ My head snapped up toward $himher. “Are you serious?” “Would I joke about something so important? I mean, I would but in this case I’m actually not. Mostly because I’m worried you’re getting your powers back and I don’t want to reap myself.” “Can you reap yourself?” “Whose to say? Anyway, wear that and you should be able to walk within the market streets, go see that lover of yours, and perhaps, get your steps in for the day. I hear its good for you.” [[Pen, this is incredibly sweet]] [[Why didn’t you do this in the first place?]] [[I could kiss you right now]]“Pen,” I breathe, “this is incredibly sweet. You didn’t have to do this.” $HeShe looked at me with a soft smile. “You seemed sad. I couldn’t bear to witness it any longer.” “And this will really work? I’ll get to go out there and walk freely?” “More or less,” $heshe told me. “Now, Now, tell me what’s the sitch? What’s going on? What exciting thing are we waiting for?” “There’s a gate in the bottom of my grave,” I explained. “Odd.” “I thought so, too.” “You know, graves aren’t supposed to have gates. And it certainly was not there before.” “I think we’re going to go find the Gatekeeper and ask him about it,” I said. With the talisman in hand, I knew I would at least be able to go as well. “You ready for that?” $heshe asked. “For what? Seeing Milo?” “You’ve had a bit of confusion when it comes to your employee. I am simply curious as to what it is you plan to do about him.” “You and me both,” I said. “Do you wish to talk about it? Sort it out?” “No,” I said simply. “At least not yet.” “Tell you what. How about you and I do lunch after this entire business with the Gatekeeper is done. We can talk and figure out whether you need me to kill him or not.” “Thanks, Pen.” $HeShe bowed dramatically. “At your service, my old friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple souls to go reap. At least three people died in the last hour and I need to go collect their pesky little souls and shove them into the well.” With a snap, Pen was gone. Leaving me in the confines of my little abode, holding a bracelet with a tiny rattling skull attached to it. [[Next|Chapter Two 4]] “Why didn’t you do this in the first place?” I asked. Or any of the other numerous little things that $heshe could have done to help me out while I was wandering these past few months. “Because,” $heshe said dramatically. “It is against the rules. Lucky for you, I found a small little loophole to the rules and have given you this gift. Now, say thank you Merripen. You are the best friend I could ever have asked for.” $HeShe reached out, squeezing my cheeks to get me to say the words. I batted $himher away. “I didn’t mean it to sound rude,” I told $himher. “Of course not. You’re still learning the intricacies of being alive, my friend. Meaning you will be somewhat of a asshat at times.” “Asshat?” “Fun little word I picked up. Now, tell me what’s the sitch? What’s going on? What exciting thing are we waiting for?” “There’s a gate in the bottom of my grave,” I explained. “Odd.” “I thought so, too.” “You know, graves aren’t supposed to have gates. And it certainly was not there before.” “I think we’re going to go find the Gatekeeper and ask him about it,” I said. With the talisman in hand, I knew I would at least be able to go as well. “You ready for that?” $heshe asked. “For what? Seeing Milo?” “You’ve had a bit of confusion when it comes to your employee. I am simply curious as to what it is you plan to do about him.” “You and me both,” I said. “Do you wish to talk about it? Sort it out?” “No,” I said simply. “At least not yet.” “Tell you what. How about you and I do lunch after this entire business with the Gatekeeper is done. We can talk and figure out whether you need me to kill him or not.” “Thanks, Pen.” $HeShe bowed dramatically. “At your service, my old friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple souls to go reap. At least three people died in the last hour and I need to go collect their pesky little souls and shove them into the well.” With a snap, Pen was gone. Leaving me in the confines of my little abode, holding a bracelet with a tiny rattling skull attached to it. [[Next|Chapter Two 4]] “I really could kiss you right now,” I told $himher. “This is going to solve the very thing that is holding me back.” Leaning forward, Pen puckered $hisher lips. “I’m waiting,” $heshe claimed, dramatically scrunching $hisher face for me. [[Shove Pen away]] [[Give a peck on the lips]] [[What would you do if I actually took you up on that offer?]] I shoved $himher away, watching as they stumbled back and hit the wall with a grin. “Oh, you like it rough, do you? Just my type.” “I will kick you out of my home,” I told $himher in warning. “Will it be by brute force, you sexy beast you?” $HeShe waggled $hisher eyes at me. I ignored $himher, just like I always did when they got like this. “Now,” $heshe started. “Tell me what’s the sitch? What’s going on? What exciting thing are we waiting for?” “There’s a gate in the bottom of my grave,” I explained. “Odd.” “I thought so, too.” “You know, graves aren’t supposed to have gates. And it certainly was not there before.” “I think we’re going to go find the Gatekeeper and ask him about it,” I said. With the talisman in hand, I knew I would at least be able to go as well. “You ready for that?” $heshe asked. “For what? Seeing Milo?” “You’ve had a bit of confusion when it comes to your employee. I am simply curious as to what it is you plan to do about him.” “You and me both,” I said. “Do you wish to talk about it? Sort it out?” “No,” I said simply. “At least not yet.” “Tell you what. How about you and I do lunch after this entire business with the Gatekeeper is done. We can talk and figure out whether you need me to kill him or not.” “Thanks, Pen.” $HeShe bowed dramatically. “At your service, my old friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple souls to go reap. At least three people died in the last hour and I need to go collect their pesky little souls and shove them into the well.” With a snap, Pen was gone. Leaving me in the confines of my little abode, holding a bracelet with a tiny rattling skull attached to it. [[Next|Chapter Two 4]] Leaning forward I gave Pen a kiss on the lips. Nothing I hadn’t done before. “There,” I told $himher. “Satisfied?” “My heart goes pitterpat with glee,” $heshe said, resting their palm across their chest. “Now,” $heshe started. “Tell me what’s the sitch? What’s going on? What exciting thing are we waiting for?” “There’s a gate in the bottom of my grave,” I explained. “Odd.” “I thought so, too.” “You know, graves aren’t supposed to have gates. And it certainly was not there before.” “I think we’re going to go find the Gatekeeper and ask him about it,” I said. With the talisman in hand, I knew I would at least be able to go as well. “You ready for that?” $heshe asked. “For what? Seeing Milo?” “You’ve had a bit of confusion when it comes to your employee. I am simply curious as to what it is you plan to do about him.” “You and me both,” I said. “Do you wish to talk about it? Sort it out?” “No,” I said simply. “At least not yet.” “Tell you what. How about you and I do lunch after this entire business with the Gatekeeper is done. We can talk and figure out whether you need me to kill him or not.” “Thanks, Pen.” $HeShe bowed dramatically. “At your service, my old friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple souls to go reap. At least three people died in the last hour and I need to go collect their pesky little souls and shove them into the well.” With a snap, Pen was gone. Leaving me in the confines of my little abode, holding a bracelet with a tiny rattling skull attached to it. [[Next|Chapter Two 4]] “What would you do if I was to actually take you up on that offer one day?” I asked. “What if I actually kissed you?” Pen teased me about it all the time but it was nothing more than innocent flirting most of the time. There was a part of me that wondered, however, what if I upped the ante and gave $himher something more. Pen took a step back, looking at me with a bit of curiosity. “Well, I just don’t know,” $heshe said. “I supposed you’d have to try it one day and we’d find out." The seriousness of $hisher tone surprised me. I couldn’t tell if there was something more to what Pen was saying or if this was another one of $hisher famous little jokes. Not that it mattered. With the talisman in hand, I had a goal in mind. Thanks to death. “Now,” Pen started, changing the subject. $HeShe didn’t act any differently but their words still lingered. ““Tell me what’s the sitch? What’s going on? What exciting thing are we waiting for?” “There’s a gate in the bottom of my grave,” I explained. “Odd.” “I thought so, too.” “You know, graves aren’t supposed to have gates. And it certainly was not there before.” “I think we’re going to go find the Gatekeeper and ask him about it,” I said. With the talisman in hand, I knew I would at least be able to go as well. “You ready for that?” $heshe asked. “For what? Seeing Milo?” “You’ve had a bit of confusion when it comes to your employee. I am simply curious as to what it is you plan to do about him.” “You and me both,” I said. “Do you wish to talk about it? Sort it out?” “No,” I said simply. “At least not yet.” “Tell you what. How about you and I do lunch after this entire business with the Gatekeeper is done. We can talk and figure out whether you need me to kill him or not.” “Thanks, Pen.” $HeShe bowed dramatically. “At your service, my old friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple souls to go reap. At least three people died in the last hour and I need to go collect their pesky little souls and shove them into the well.” With a snap, Pen was gone. Leaving me in the confines of my little abode, holding a bracelet with a tiny rattling skull attached to it. [[Next|Chapter Two 4]] I was sitting in my room when there was a knock on the window. A door had yet to appear in the little house, no matter how much I had thought of it, and instead, my window became easier to pull open and a little step stool lined with marigolds grew outside. I hadn’t shut the window since getting home and felt no need to really get up off my bed. Turning, I spied Malcolm, his arms folded on the window sill as he looked in on me. “Herald showed me,” he said in way of greeting. “What do you think?” “It’s a gate alright,” he said. “And it’s active.” I nodded, having already known as much. “Can you offer any insight with being a previous Gatekeeper?” “It leads to somewhere in the market,” he told me. “It wasn’t created solely by you, I don’t think. Nor Milo.” That was not what I expected. “Who made it then?” “I’m not sure. But the magic surrounding it is something new. I know what your magic looks like and I’ve been studying Milo’s. This has a different flavor to it. Almost like it was just born.” “So we have a third party opening gates?” “I don’t know,” he said, standing straight and leaning against the side of the window. “I hate to say this, but there is one person who will know. Or would at least shed light on things a bit better.” Milo. I had already come to the conclusion myself. [[Who says he’s even going to work with us?]] [[I don’t want to see him]] [[Where is he?]]“Given everything that has happened, you really think he’ll work with us?” He didn’t before. He took everything on by himself and made decisions that he felt were best for the world. I didn’t want a repeat of the exact same situation. “I don’t think we’ll know until we go and talk to him,” Malcolm said. “Which, I know is probably not something you are looking forward to but I think making him face everything is going to be key here.” Nodding, I stood up, taking a deep breath, before climbing out of the window. Malcolm looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not going to be able to go,” he said. I held up the talisman that Pen gave me. “Fun thing about being me. I actually have really good friends. Death is giving me a pass.” Malcolm didn’t question it. “Death sure it’ll work?” I held the bone pendant up to the light. “I think $heshe would bet their life on it.” “Funny.” Pushing off the wall, Malcolm nodded for me to take the lead. He would always have my back. When we got to the edge of the alley, I stood there for a minute, willing myself to cross the threshold. This would work. I just had to remember that this would work. Slowly, I stepped forward, my foot rising and falling. A tug shot through me, pulling at the base of my spine. Pen’s talisman glowed brightly, sucking something in from all around me. Then, it settled. Going blank. “We good?” Malcolm asked, looking me up and down for signs of something going wrong. I took a deep breath. “We’re good.” The market felt stagnant still and far darker than I was used to seeing. The vibrancy of the world was dimmed to a near nothingness. The candles burned along the walls along with wax caked upon the cobblestones. “It feels different,” I told him. “Like I’m staring at everything through some sort of film.” Malcolm looked at me. “You look solid. Can I…?” he raised his hand. It took me a moment to understand what he was asking but I nodded, holding my own hand up. His skin touched mine, warm and slightly rough. “You’re corporeal,” he said, dropping his arm afterward. “That’s a good sign. Tell your friend Death, $heshe did a good job on that necklace of yours.” Pen receiving compliments was nearly insufferable. I didn’t know if I was going to follow through with Malcolm’s request. “Where’s this fight club at?” I asked. “Come on,” he said. “We have to take a weird way to get there because of the walls but we’ll get there.” The road was sloping downwards, the two of us slowing our pace so as not to fall in the dark. I could hear sounds bleeding through the walls. Distant screams and cries. The sounds of laughter in some cases. The odd smell of food. <<if $hazelro == "true">>“Do you mind if before we go to this club I go and see Hazel?” I asked him. I stopped suddenly in the streets, the desire to see her now that I had the talisman, tugging at me in a nearly painful way. Why didn’t she remember me? “Lamplight, you don’t have to ask permission to go and see anyone,” he told me gently. “Go see my sister. Make Milo wait. Besides, it’d be better if he gets a few fights in him. Tire himself out.” I nodded. “You want to come with me?” “I’ll be near,” he said. “But seeing her again? That should be between you two.” “But if something’s wrong, don’t you want to know?” There was a strange gleam that came over Malcolm’s eyes. It was nothing more than a flash. “I’ll be near. But I doubt anything is actually wrong. She’ll see you again and it will be okay. She just didn’t know, Herald. That’s all.” I looked at him curiously. Something about it didn’t seem right. The memories I had of Hazel and Malcolm were not abundant but Malcolm cared for his sister. The fact that he was not barreling forward to see if she was okay struck me as odd. “I’ll go get something warm for us to drink,” he told me. “It gets colder and colder the further into the alleys you walk.” I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Hazel. I wanted to hold her and make sure she was okay. The familiar sound of the three-tiered fountain was echoing somewhere behind me, a beacon guiding me home. So, I let Malcolm go and instead turned to find the woman with the warm eyes and the enchanting little smile. More than anything, I longed to see it with my own eyes once more. [[Next|Hazel route]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>“I want to go see Gabriel before we do all of this.” Malcolm nodded, having already expected as much. “Here’s the thing,” he started. “You really want to let the Warden in on what we’re doing?” “Do I really want to go see a man that I started a relationship with? Yes, Malcolm. I do.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Just checkin’, Lamplight. I get it. I really do. The Warden just makes me nervous. He’s gotten a lot colder with your absence. I don’t really want the complication of him coming to the club tonight. Mainly because Milo will run.” “He won’t,” I said. “I’m not going to let him.” Malcolm looked up into the lightless sky. “I’ll go get something warm for us to drink,” he told me. “It gets colder and colder the further into the alleys you walk.” I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Gabriel. Maybe now that I was actually here, I could convince him that I was me. That a demon was not walking in his shadow and whispering into his ear. [[Next|Gabriel Route]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>"Before we do all of this, I need to go see Gabriel and Belladonna." "I thought Herald tried." "He did but Belladonna doesn't know him so she wasn't about to let him in and Gabriel--" "Thinks you're a demon," Malcolm pointed out. He stopped, turning to me. "I understand the desire to go and see them, but go see Belladonna first. Gabriel's mind is fragile. You might need a little help with him." I couldn't say I disagreed. The brief encounters I had already had with Gabriel hadn't been productive. “You’ll wait for me?” “Yeah. The only thing I ask of you is that you don’t let Belladonna join us. Not until we can get some things finalized. Milo is not her favorite person and while I get why, seeing her is going to make him run. We’ll get no answers.” “I can’t control Belladonna.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Oh, Lamplight. I think you got more sway over her than you’re thinking.” Hands in his pockets, he began backing away into the dark. “Have fun,” he called. I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Belladonna. I just wanted the stability that she gave. The comfort. It had been too long since I had laid my eyes upon her. [[Next|Belladonna route]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>“Before we do all of this, I need to go see Belladonna. I know Herald tried but I think she’d see me.” Bella didn’t know Herald. But if she knew I was back, no appointment was going to stand in her way. Malcolm looked torn, as if he wanted to ask me to postpone. But not even him could require such a thing. Not when I was finally walking free. “How about I go get us some tea,” he told me. “Something to wake us up before we go to the club.” “You’ll wait for me?” “Yeah. The only thing I ask of you is that you don’t let Belladonna join us. Not until we can get some things finalized. Milo is not her favorite person and while I get why, seeing her is going to make him run. We’ll get no answers.” “I can’t control Belladonna.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Oh, Lamplight. I think you got more sway over her than you’re thinking.” Hands in his pockets, he began backing away into the dark. “Have fun,” he called. I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Belladonna. I just wanted the stability that she gave. The comfort. It had been too long since I had laid my eyes upon her. [[Next|Belladonna route]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Walk with Malcolm]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|The Fight Club]]<</if>>“I don’t want to see him.” It was a knee-jerk reaction and one that spit from my lips in a venomous bite. But it was true. I wasn’t ready to see him yet. I didn’t know if I’d ever be. “I can go on my own,” he told me. “But, there’s no guarantee I’ll get him to come back here. You’d be able to.” “Why me?” “Because you’re the Night Market, Lamplight. It’s in his gut to listen to you. To follow you.” “Milo doesn’t seem like much of a follower.” “I’m not going to make you go see him,” Malcolm told me. “Given everything that has happened, it needs to be you that makes that decision. But, you aren’t going to be able to avoid him forever. Sooner or later, you are going to have to address your Gatekeeper and bring him to heel.” Nodding, I stood up, taking a deep breath, before climbing out of the window. Malcolm looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not going to be able to go,” he said. I held up the talisman that Pen gave me. “Fun thing about being me. I actually have really good friends. Death is giving me a pass.” Malcolm didn’t question it. “Death sure it’ll work?” I held the bone pendant up to the light. “I think $heshe would bet their life on it.” “Funny.” Pushing off the wall, Malcolm nodded for me to take the lead. He would always have my back. When we got to the edge of the alley, I stood there for a minute, willing myself to cross the threshold. This would work. I just had to remember that this would work. Slowly, I stepped forward, my foot rising and falling. A tug shot through me, pulling at the base of my spine. Pen’s talisman glowed brightly, sucking something in from all around me. Then, it settled. Going blank. “We good?” Malcolm asked, looking me up and down for signs of something going wrong. I took a deep breath. “We’re good.” The market felt stagnant still and far darker than I was used to seeing. The vibrancy of the world was dimmed to a near nothingness. The candles burned along the walls along with wax caked upon the cobblestones. “It feels different,” I told him. “Like I’m staring at everything through some sort of film.” Malcolm looked at me. “You look solid. Can I…?” he raised his hand. It took me a moment to understand what he was asking but I nodded, holding my own hand up. His skin touched mine, warm and slightly rough. “You’re corporeal,” he said, dropping his arm afterward. “That’s a good sign. Tell your friend Death, $heshe did a good job on that necklace of yours.” Pen receiving compliments was nearly insufferable. I didn’t know if I was going to follow through with Malcolm’s request. “Where’s this fight club at?” I asked. “Come on,” he said. “We have to take a weird way to get there because of the walls but we’ll get there.” The road was sloping downwards, the two of us slowing our pace so as not to fall in the dark. I could hear sounds bleeding through the walls. Distant screams and cries. The sounds of laughter in some cases. The odd smell of food. <<if $hazelro == "true">>“Do you mind if before we go to this club I go and see Hazel?” I asked him. I stopped suddenly in the streets, the desire to see her now that I had the talisman, tugging at me in a nearly painful way. Why didn’t she remember me? “Lamplight, you don’t have to ask permission to go and see anyone,” he told me gently. “Go see my sister. Make Milo wait. Besides, it’d be better if he gets a few fights in him. Tire himself out.” I nodded. “You want to come with me?” “I’ll be near,” he said. “But seeing her again? That should be between you two.” “But if something’s wrong, don’t you want to know?” There was a strange gleam that came over Malcolm’s eyes. It was nothing more than a flash. “I’ll be near. But I doubt anything is actually wrong. She’ll see you again and it will be okay. She just didn’t know, Herald. That’s all.” I looked at him curiously. Something about it didn’t seem right. The memories I had of Hazel and Malcolm were not abundant but Malcolm cared for his sister. The fact that he was not barreling forward to see if she was okay struck me as odd. “I’ll go get something warm for us to drink,” he told me. “It gets colder and colder the further into the alleys you walk.” I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Hazel. I wanted to hold her and make sure she was okay. The familiar sound of the three-tiered fountain was echoing somewhere behind me, a beacon guiding me home. So, I let Malcolm go and instead turned to find the woman with the warm eyes and the enchanting little smile. More than anything, I longed to see it with my own eyes once more. [[Next|Hazel route]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>“I want to go see Gabriel before we do all of this.” Malcolm nodded, having already expected as much. “Here’s the thing,” he started. “You really want to let the Warden in on what we’re doing?” “Do I really want to go see a man that I started a relationship with? Yes, Malcolm. I do.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Just checkin’, Lamplight. I get it. I really do. The Warden just makes me nervous. He’s gotten a lot colder with your absence. I don’t really want the complication of him coming to the club tonight. Mainly because Milo will run.” “He won’t,” I said. “I’m not going to let him.” Malcolm looked up into the lightless sky. “I’ll go get something warm for us to drink,” he told me. “It gets colder and colder the further into the alleys you walk.” I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Gabriel. Maybe now that I was actually here, I could convince him that I was me. That a demon was not walking in his shadow and whispering into his ear. [[Next|Gabriel Route]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>"Before we do all of this, I need to go see Gabriel and Belladonna." "I thought Herald tried." "He did but Belladonna doesn't know him so she wasn't about to let him in and Gabriel--" "Thinks you're a demon," Malcolm pointed out. He stopped, turning to me. "I understand the desire to go and see them, but go see Belladonna first. Gabriel's mind is fragile. You might need a little help with him." I couldn't say I disagreed. The brief encounters I had already had with Gabriel hadn't been productive. “You’ll wait for me?” “Yeah. The only thing I ask of you is that you don’t let Belladonna join us. Not until we can get some things finalized. Milo is not her favorite person and while I get why, seeing her is going to make him run. We’ll get no answers.” “I can’t control Belladonna.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Oh, Lamplight. I think you got more sway over her than you’re thinking.” Hands in his pockets, he began backing away into the dark. “Have fun,” he called. I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Belladonna. I just wanted the stability that she gave. The comfort. It had been too long since I had laid my eyes upon her. [[Next|Belladonna route]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>“Before we do all of this, I need to go see Belladonna. I know Herald tried but I think she’d see me.” Bella didn’t know Herald. But if she knew I was back, no appointment was going to stand in her way. Malcolm looked torn, as if he wanted to ask me to postpone. But not even him could require such a thing. Not when I was finally walking free. “How about I go get us some tea,” he told me. “Something to wake us up before we go to the club.” “You’ll wait for me?” “Yeah. The only thing I ask of you is that you don’t let Belladonna join us. Not until we can get some things finalized. Milo is not her favorite person and while I get why, seeing her is going to make him run. We’ll get no answers.” “I can’t control Belladonna.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Oh, Lamplight. I think you got more sway over her than you’re thinking.” Hands in his pockets, he began backing away into the dark. “Have fun,” he called. I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Belladonna. I just wanted the stability that she gave. The comfort. It had been too long since I had laid my eyes upon her. [[Next|Belladonna route]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Walk with Malcolm]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|The Fight Club]]<</if>> I nodded. “Where is he?” Malcolm leaned against the outside of the building, hands in his pockets, looking up at the broken lanterns. “There’s a fight club on the outskirts of town. He’s got the floor tonight.” Nodding, I stood up, taking a deep breath, before climbing out of the window. Malcolm looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not going to be able to go,” he said. I held up the talisman that Pen gave me. “Fun thing about being me. I actually have really good friends. Death is giving me a pass.” Malcolm didn’t question it. “Death sure it’ll work?” I held the bone pendant up to the light. “I think $heshe would bet their life on it.” “Funny.” Pushing off the wall, Malcolm nodded for me to take the lead. He would always have my back. When we got to the edge of the alley, I stood there for a minute, willing myself to cross the threshold. This would work. I just had to remember that this would work. Slowly, I stepped forward, my foot rising and falling. A tug shot through me, pulling at the base of my spine. Pen’s talisman glowed brightly, sucking something in from all around me. Then, it settled. Going blank. “We good?” Malcolm asked, looking me up and down for signs of something going wrong. I took a deep breath. “We’re good.” The market felt stagnant still and far darker than I was used to seeing. The vibrancy of the world was dimmed to a near nothingness. The candles burned along the walls along with wax caked upon the cobblestones. “It feels different,” I told him. “Like I’m staring at everything through some sort of film.” Malcolm looked at me. “You look solid. Can I…?” he raised his hand. It took me a moment to understand what he was asking but I nodded, holding my own hand up. His skin touched mine, warm and slightly rough. “You’re corporeal,” he said, dropping his arm afterward. “That’s a good sign. Tell your friend Death, $heshe did a good job on that bracelet of yours.” Pen receiving compliments was nearly insufferable. I didn’t know if I was going to follow through with Malcolm’s request. “Where’s this fight club at?” I asked. “Come on,” he said. “We have to take a weird way to get there because of the walls but we’ll get there.” I followed him, my first couple of steps feeling odd as I got used to not just slipping into nothingness with each step. The road was sloping downwards, the two of us slowing our pace so as not to fall in the dark. I could hear sounds bleeding through the walls. Distant screams and cries. The sounds of laughter in some cases. The odd smell of food. <<if $hazelro == "true">>“Do you mind if before we go to this club I go and see Hazel?” I asked him. I stopped suddenly in the streets, the desire to see her now that I had the talisman, tugging at me in a nearly painful way. Why didn’t she remember me? “Lamplight, you don’t have to ask permission to go and see anyone,” he told me gently. “Go see my sister. Make Milo wait. Besides, it’d be better if he gets a few fights in him. Tire himself out.” I nodded. “You want to come with me?” “I’ll be near,” he said. “But seeing her again? That should be between you two.” “But if something’s wrong, don’t you want to know?” There was a strange gleam that came over Malcolm’s eyes. It was nothing more than a flash. “I’ll be near. But I doubt anything is actually wrong. She’ll see you again and it will be okay. She just didn’t know, Herald. That’s all.” I looked at him curiously. Something about it didn’t seem right. The memories I had of Hazel and Malcolm were not abundant but Malcolm cared for his sister. The fact that he was not barreling forward to see if she was okay struck me as odd. “I’ll go get something warm for us to drink,” he told me. “It gets colder and colder the further into the alleys you walk.” I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Hazel. I wanted to hold her and make sure she was okay. The familiar sound of the three-tiered fountain was echoing somewhere behind me, a beacon guiding me home. So, I let Malcolm go and instead turned to find the woman with the warm eyes and the enchanting little smile. More than anything, I longed to see it with my own eyes once more. [[Next|Hazel route]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>“I want to go see Gabriel before we do all of this.” Malcolm nodded, having already expected as much. “Here’s the thing,” he started. “You really want to let the Warden in on what we’re doing?” “Do I really want to go see a man that I started a relationship with? Yes, Malcolm. I do.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Just checkin’, Lamplight. I get it. I really do. The Warden just makes me nervous. He’s gotten a lot colder with your absence. I don’t really want the complication of him coming to the club tonight. Mainly because Milo will run.” “He won’t,” I said. “I’m not going to let him.” Malcolm looked up into the lightless sky. “I’ll go get something warm for us to drink,” he told me. “It gets colder and colder the further into the alleys you walk.” I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Gabriel. Maybe now that I was actually here, I could convince him that I was me. That a demon was not walking in his shadow and whispering into his ear. [[Next|Gabriel Route]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>"Before we do all of this, I need to go see Gabriel and Belladonna." "I thought Herald tried." "He did but Belladonna doesn't know him so she wasn't about to let him in and Gabriel--" "Thinks you're a demon," Malcolm pointed out. He stopped, turning to me. "I understand the desire to go and see them, but go see Belladonna first. Gabriel's mind is fragile. You might need a little help with him." I couldn't say I disagreed. The brief encounters I had already had with Gabriel hadn't been productive. “You’ll wait for me?” “Yeah. The only thing I ask of you is that you don’t let Belladonna join us. Not until we can get some things finalized. Milo is not her favorite person and while I get why, seeing her is going to make him run. We’ll get no answers.” “I can’t control Belladonna.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Oh, Lamplight. I think you got more sway over her than you’re thinking.” Hands in his pockets, he began backing away into the dark. “Have fun,” he called. I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Belladonna. I just wanted the stability that she gave. The comfort. It had been too long since I had laid my eyes upon her. [[Next|Belladonna route]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>“Before we do all of this, I need to go see Belladonna. I know Herald tried but I think she’d see me.” Bella didn’t know Herald. But if she knew I was back, no appointment was going to stand in her way. Malcolm looked torn, as if he wanted to ask me to postpone. But not even him could require such a thing. Not when I was finally walking free. “How about I go get us some tea,” he told me. “Something to wake us up before we go to the club.” “You’ll wait for me?” “Yeah. The only thing I ask of you is that you don’t let Belladonna join us. Not until we can get some things finalized. Milo is not her favorite person and while I get why, seeing her is going to make him run. We’ll get no answers.” “I can’t control Belladonna.” A sly grin appeared on his face. “Oh, Lamplight. I think you got more sway over her than you’re thinking.” Hands in his pockets, he began backing away into the dark. “Have fun,” he called. I maybe should have gone after him. Followed through on what was going on. But I wanted to see Belladonna. I just wanted the stability that she gave. The comfort. It had been too long since I had laid my eyes upon her. [[Next|Belladonna route]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Walk with Malcolm]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|The Fight Club]]<</if>> I walked down the alley, peering into the desolate shops that used to house the spirits from a time long before. Without them, the alley felt worse, somehow. Emptier in a way that felt as if the world didn’t exist. The light at the end of the tunnel had always been the apothecary. But even that looked dark. The wisps no longer flitting about the main gate and landing on the waxy leaves that lined the flower beds. Stepping across the demarcation of the alley, I stared at the familiar sight. It looked worn somehow. Like the life that Hazel had breathed into the place was sleeping. I couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong exactly. The stained-glass windows looked dull. The bent pipe chimney no longer had curls of lavender scented smoke peeling from its spout. And the willow tree that housed the wisps was gone entirely. I pushed open the gate, frowning at the tree's absence. I supposed it made sense that the tree would be taken down. It was butted up against the house and I had heard Hazel several times say that it was an accident waiting to happen. But where did all the wisps go? When I walked up the steps, I skipped the bottom one like usual. Knowing the creak of it usually sent Mr. Billows tail to extra puffy. Diffused light poured from the windows and the open sign was placed out for the day. With my heart beating erratically in my chest, I pushed the door open. “Welcome in! I’ll be with you in just a moment.” My breath caught in my throat. That was her. I’d know that voice in my sleep and hearing it now after what felt like an eternity was enough to still the beat of my own heart. My Hazel. She came down from the upper landing, her hair twisted up in two buns and tied together with string and bone. She wore a much plainer dress than I was used to seeing her in, the boning of her corset looking far more rigid than before. When she hopped off the last step, she turned to me with her patented smile. The one that she gave to customers she did not know. “Hi,” she said. “Is there anything I can help you with today?” There was no recognition behind her eyes. Staring at me expectantly, Hazel looked as if she had never seen me before. Not even a flicker or remembrance despite me having lived with her. Despite having taken her hand on the hardest nights and pulling her close. “Are you alright?” she asked, concern starting to twist at her lips. [[No. I don’t think I am]] [[I’ve recently come back from the dead]] [[Run and try to hug her]] [[Are you alright?]]“No,” I answered in a croaked voice. “I don’t think I am.” I hadn’t noticed it before. The way that Hazel had looked at me had produced such light. A warmth that could not be rivaled. But now, as a stranger, she held herself back. “Are you ill?” she asked. “I certainly would have something to help whatever ails you. Did someone send you here?” She had her head cocked to the side in curiosity. The options laid out before me were startlingly few. “Hazel?” I asked, hoping the sound of her name on my lips would job something. “Yes?” she nodded, now coming out from behind the counter. “Oh, dear. You look a little pale.” I felt my stomach roll. I really didn’t know if I could stay here when she was looking right through me. [[Go back and try to find Malcolm. This is too much]] [[Tell her everything. She needs to remember]] [[You really don’t remember me?]]“I’ve recently come back from the dead,” I told her. I didn’t know if spilling our past between us would jog anything. I also didn’t know if this predicament meant that Hazel was in danger. Or, if she had simply done this to herself. “Ah,” she said with a knowing look. “You’re going to need something to ground you a bit. I hear it can be quite disorienting coming back. Although, I thought the well was stopped up. Is it back and running now?” “No, I don’t think so. I might be a fluke.” “That can happen from time to time. But I think I have something to help with the death fog.” She pulled a vial from the middle shelf, turning to come around the counter. “Oh, dear. You do look a little pale. You must have recently risen.” I felt my stomach roll. I really didn’t know if I could stay here when she was looking right through me. [[Go back and try to find Malcolm. This is too much]] [[Tell her everything. She needs to remember]] [[You really don’t remember me?]] My feet carried me towards her on their own accord. I just needed to get to her and wrap my arms around her. Feel her against me. The way she would melt. The little sigh she would give me as she settled against my chest. But the second my arms came around her, she flinched, pushing me away. I stood in front of her dumbly, my arms still extended. “I’m sorry,” she said, rounding on the front counter and stepping behind it. “I am not very comfortable with that? Is there something I can help you with in the way of a tonic or and herbal sachet?” I had made her uncomfortable. I could tell with the way her fingers twitched towards something under the counter. Not that she couldn’t just eviscerate me with her own magic. I felt my stomach roll. I really didn’t know if I could stay here when she was looking right through me. [[Go back and try to find Malcolm. This is too much]] [[Tell her everything. She needs to remember]] [[You really don’t remember me?]]“Are you alright?” She was looking right through me. My gaze skittered over her, trying to find what was wrong but I could see nothing. She looked like Hazel. Her eyes were clear and I could even feel the longing to help roll off her. An empathy that she approached each of her customers with. But I was just another face in the crowd for her. I wasn’t $name. “I’m doing good,” she responded. “A little chilled. I haven’t changed my boots yet from being out in the garden,” she laughed. “Hazel,” I started. “What happened?” She looked at me, a funny look coming over her face. There was a moment where I thought she was going to burst out in laughter. Tell me she was just joking before rushing into my arms. But instead, that quirked little smile was on her lips as she tried to help the customer that was standing before her. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know exactly what you mean. Is there anything I can help you with?” I felt my stomach roll. I really didn’t know if I could stay here when she was looking right through me. [[Go back and try to find Malcolm. This is too much]] [[Tell her everything. She needs to remember]] [[You really don’t remember me?]] “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I think this was a mistake.” I couldn’t do this on my own. If I started telling her who I was and trying to convince her of my legitimacy, there was no telling how it was going to go. And I didn’t think I could stomach seeing the blank recognition in her eyes. “I need to go,” I mumbled. I didn’t hear what she said in return as I ran out of the shop, in search of Malcolm. I took the now desolate apothecary street and ran past the three tiered fountain. The entire way the confused and pitying looking in her eyes, haunting me. I felt numb as I walked back down the alley. I didn’t even know where my feet were carrying me. They moved with a mind of their own while my own thoughts stayed back with Hazel. Something had happened and whatever it was had left a gnawing pit in my stomach. She wasn’t right. My beautiful, compassionate girl, was suddenly gone from my sight. I walked down the end of the alley and towards the meeting spot that Malcolm and I had agreed on. He was waiting for me there, holding two steaming mugs of tea. “Oh good,” he said, handing me one. “I was going to come and get you.” I took the tea numbly. “She doesn’t remember me. At all.” Malcolm paused, the steam from the mugs curling between us. “How is that possible?” “I don’t know. Something’s happened to her though. She… you saw her after the ball, right?” “I lived with her for a while after. I was still not on my feet,” he said. “We talked about you a lot.” So it had been a recent development then. It oddly made me feel more hopeful. “When’s the last time you two talked about me?” “I don't know,” he said, racking his brain. “I always let her bring it up if she needed to.” <<if $hazeldream == "true">> But I had seen her in the garden, kneeling. The thought of me had caused her so much pain. Unbearable to someone like Hazel. Not when it came on the tails of so much death and abandonment.<</if>> “And she wasn’t acting weird the last time you saw her?” A frown twisted across Malcolm’s lips as he reached into his mind, trying to gather the loose threads of his memory. “I haven’t actually seen her in a little bit.” “What?” He immediately looked guilty. [[You left her alone after all of that?]] [[What happened that you two didn’t see each other?]] [[You were dead for ten years and you just stopped seeing her?]] “Hazel, it’s me,” I told her. “$name. I lived here. I lost my memories and I lived in that room right upstairs. You and I were together. We would spend nights curled up in front of the hearth. Your favorite tea is anything picked from the garden though you are partial to the chamomile that grows near the creek.” Her smile faltered as she took a step back. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” “$name,” I repeated. “Please. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but there is something going on. There is some reason you can’t remember me.” “I’m so sorry. Maybe you are mistaken? Thinking of someone else?” “Your brother's name is Malcolm,” I said. “Your best friend, or at least he was your best friend, is Milo. You have a cat named Mr. Billows and…” “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly harder. The faint trace of a quiver was a current underneath but I knew Hazel would not falter. “I don’t know how you know these things but I can assure you, I have no idea who you are.” I stepped forward. “Hazel, please.” I felt myself stutter to a stop however as her fingers flickered with magic, black tendrils of ink bleeding up her fingers and dripping with green. “This is going to be your only chance,” she said. “Leave.” [[Try again to make her remember you]] [[Leave on your own accord]]“You really don’t remember me?” The question came tumbling out, falling between us in an ugly truth that would hurt only me. Hazel wasn’t one to play tricks. She wasn’t a cruel woman. Which meant, something much more sinister was going on. “Did you come in for a tonic last month?” she asked. “No.” I didn’t know how much I should tell her. If she didn’t remember me, would I be viewed as a threat? “I’m sorry,” she said with a soft smile. One I was intimately familiar with. “I think you might have me confused with someone. I’m afraid I don’t really get out much into the market. Unless you’ve met me here you probably haven’t at all.” [[Agree with her]] [[Tell her everything]]“Yes,” I said numbly. “Sorry. I think I was getting you mixed up with someone else.” I saw the way her shoulders dropped, relief coloring her form. “No. Please. Don’t worry about it. It can happen. Is there some way I can help you?” “I just came here to look,” I lied. “See what there was for you to offer.” “Well,” she started sweetly, clasping her hands in front of her. “I can do quite a few things for ailments. I would have to know your situation a bit more but if you just wish to look for now I’ll leave you alone. But please, let me know if you have any questions.” “Of course,” I said with a feigned smile. When she turned from me, I wanted to reach out. Grab her and beg her to remember who I was. Instead, I stood in the middle of the familiar shop, looking for the punchline of such a sinister joke. But not even Mr. Billows peeked around any of the familiar corners. In fact, the small bowl that usually stood on top of the apothecary counter was absent. As Hazel began to hum, I turned and slipped from the shop. I’m sure her eyes turned to the door, curiously following my form. I couldn’t look back, though. I was nothing more than a forgotten memory to her. The person I fought to come back to was fine without me. I felt numb as I walked back down the alley. I didn’t even know where my feet were carrying me. They moved with a mind of their own while my own thoughts stayed back with Hazel. Something had happened and whatever it was had left a gnawing pit in my stomach. She wasn’t right. My beautiful, compassionate girl, was suddenly gone from my sight. I walked down the end of the alley and towards the meeting spot that Malcolm and I had agreed on. He was waiting for me there, holding two steaming mugs of tea. “Oh good,” he said, handing me one. “I was going to come and get you.” I took the tea numbly. “She doesn’t remember me. At all.” Malcolm paused, the steam from the mugs curling between us. “How is that possible?” “I don’t know. Something’s happened to her though. She… you saw her after the ball, right?” “I lived with her for a while after. I was still not on my feet,” he said. “We talked about you a lot.” So it had been a recent development then. It oddly made me feel more hopeful. “When’s the last time you two talked about me?” “I don't know,” he said, racking his brain. “I always let her bring it up if she needed to.” <<if $hazeldream == "true">> But I had seen her in the garden, kneeling. The thought of me had caused her so much pain. Unbearable to someone like Hazel. Not when it came on the tails of so much death and abandonment.<</if>> “And she wasn’t acting weird the last time you saw her?” A frown twisted across Malcolm’s lips as he reached into his mind, trying to gather the loose threads of his memory. “I haven’t actually seen her in a little bit.” “What?” He immediately looked guilty. [[You left her alone after all of that?]] [[What happened that you two didn’t see each other?]] [[You were dead for ten years and you just stopped seeing her?]] “Hazel, it’s me,” I told her. “$name. I lived here. I lost my memories and I lived in that room right upstairs. You and I were together. We would spend nights curled up in front of the hearth. Your favorite tea is anything picked from the garden though you are partial to the chamomile that grows near the creek.” Her smile faltered as she took a step back. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” “$name,” I repeated. “Please. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but there is something going on. There is some reason you can’t remember me.” “I’m so sorry. Maybe you are mistaken? Thinking of someone else?” “Your brother's name is Malcolm,” I said. “Your best friend, or at least he was your best friend, is Milo. You have a cat named Mr. Billows and…” “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly harder. The faint trace of a quiver was a current underneath but I knew Hazel would not falter. “I don’t know how you know these things but I can assure you, I have no idea who you are.” I stepped forward. “Hazel, please.” I felt myself stutter to a stop however as her fingers flickered with magic, black tendrils of ink bleeding up her fingers and dripping with green. “This is going to be your only chance,” she said. “Leave.” [[Try again to make her remember you]] “No,” I started frantically. “I will not leave. I can’t. Hazel, you need to remember. I don’t know what’s happened but I’m back. I’m–” Magic shot through the room, hitting me squarely in the chest. I stumbled backwards, feeling as if a hundred knives were piercing my skin. My words were wretched from me, but lungs squeezing into small and aching tubes. Eyes bulging, I looked at her, her fingers curled into a fist in front of her face, eyes pure black. “I’ll ask you to leave now,” she said, voice deadpan as magic cracked between us. “Ha–” The door behind me opened and I was tossed to the front stoop, tumbling down the rickety steps. The door slammed with a resounding bang and the echo of a lock tumbled after me. I sucked in a sharp breath, blinking up at the dark sky. I could see a wisp try to shoot towards me but it flickered and then disappeared before it could dip down to my aid. Standing, I gave one last look at the apothecary. It looked abandoned. The life that was Hazel had bled out of it and scattered into nothing. If I chose to try and go back in, it was doubtful the door would open to me. And even if it did, I suspected I would be met with only an abandoned building. An illusion filtering in place to keep me out of her life. With little other choice, I turned to head back to Malcolm. I felt numb as I walked back down the alley. I didn’t even know where my feet were carrying me. They moved with a mind of their own while my own thoughts stayed back with Hazel. Something had happened and whatever it was had left a gnawing pit in my stomach. She wasn’t right. My beautiful, compassionate girl, was suddenly gone from my sight. I walked down the end of the alley and towards the meeting spot that Malcolm and I had agreed on. He was waiting for me there, holding two steaming mugs of tea. “Oh good,” he said, handing me one. “I was going to come and get you.” I took the tea numbly. “She doesn’t remember me. At all.” Malcolm paused, the steam from the mugs curling between us. “How is that possible?” “I don’t know. Something’s happened to her though. She… you saw her after the ball, right?” “I lived with her for a while after. I was still not on my feet,” he said. “We talked about you a lot.” So it had been a recent development then. It oddly made me feel more hopeful. “When’s the last time you two talked about me?” “I don't know,” he said, racking his brain. “I always let her bring it up if she needed to.” <<if $hazeldream == "true">> But I had seen her in the garden, kneeling. The thought of me had caused her so much pain. Unbearable to someone like Hazel. Not when it came on the tails of so much death and abandonment.<</if>> “And she wasn’t acting weird the last time you saw her?” A frown twisted across Malcolm’s lips as he reached into his mind, trying to gather the loose threads of his memory. “I haven’t actually seen her in a little bit.” “What?” He immediately looked guilty. [[You left her alone after all of that?]] [[What happened that you two didn’t see each other?]] [[You were dead for ten years and you just stopped seeing her?]] There was something in the air. A crack of magic that was tinged with something sickly sweet. I hadn’t recognized it when I first came in but I did now. It was a potent mix of herbs that Hazel kept up on the higher shelves. I hadn’t ever known what they actually did but she had always told me if anyone asked about them, to come and get her. That she would deal with them alone. “I’ll leave,” I told her, holding my hands up. If I was going to get to the bottom of this, then she was going to need to not be scared of me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.” She nodded once, still not believing me. “Just go,” she said. I turned and walked numbly out of the apothecary, hearing the click of the lock turn behind me. She didn’t remember me. Just like Herald had said. I just hadn’t thought it would be real. I thought I would get here and at the very least the sight of me would have jogged her memory. But she had looked right through me and I had no idea why. I walked down the end of the alley and towards the meeting spot that Malcolm and I had agreed on. He was waiting for me there, holding two steaming mugs of tea. “Oh good,” he said, handing me one. “I was going to come and get you.” I took the tea numbly. “She doesn’t remember me. At all.” Malcolm paused, the steam from the mugs curling between us. “How is that possible?” “I don’t know. Something’s happened to her though. She… you saw her after the ball, right?” “I lived with her for a while after. I was still not on my feet,” he said. “We talked about you a lot.” So it had been a recent development then. It oddly made me feel more hopeful. “When’s the last time you two talked about me?” “I don't know,” he said, racking his brain. “I always let her bring it up if she needed to.” <<if $hazeldream == "true">> But I had seen her in the garden, kneeling. The thought of me had caused her so much pain. Unbearable to someone like Hazel. Not when it came on the tails of so much death and abandonment.<</if>> “And she wasn’t acting weird the last time you saw her?” A frown twisted across Malcolm’s lips as he reached into his mind, trying to gather the loose threads of his memory. “I haven’t actually seen her in a little bit.” “What?” He immediately looked guilty. [[You left her alone after all of that?]] [[What happened that you two didn’t see each other?]] [[You were dead for ten years and you just stopped seeing her?]] “You left her alone after all of that? After the ball. After Milo. After me. You just stuck around and let her play nursemaid for a bit and then didn’t come back?” “Of course I came back. “Hazel is one of the most important people in my life. I’m not going to just not see her.” “So when was the last time you did see her?” I asked. “I don’t know. Recently. It had to have been recently.” But I could see with the way his face strained that he was hesitant to believe even his own words. “I’ve wanted to see her. I’ve wanted to see her nearly every day. Just, other things got in the way.” “Gotten in the way? Malcolm, getting you back was her life mission for ten years and now you’re saying you can’t remember the last time you stopped by to have dinner with her? To chat? Even if your life has gotten busy you should have made time for that.” “No. I know. I’m not trying to make excuses. I have wanted to. I’ve just… forgotten.” [[You’re not the brother she claimed you to be]] [[That doesn’t sound like you]] [[Something is happening to you too]]“What happened, Malcolm,” I asked slowly. There was no world in which Malcolm and Hazel would not be there for each other. At least to my knowledge. I knew there were times when they were younger that Malcolm had not been around. The sins of youth. But now? It didn’t make sense. “Nothing happened,” he explained. “I’ve seen her, Lamplight. Just not a lot, I guess. Not as much as I should have?” He rubbed at his eyes, trying to bring forth the reasons. “I guess other things have just gotten in the way.” “Gotten in the way? Malcolm, getting you back was her life mission for ten years and now you’re saying you can’t remember the last time you stopped by to have dinner with her? To chat? Even if your life has gotten busy you should have made time for that.” “No. I know. I’m not trying to make excuses. I have wanted to. I’ve just… forgotten.” [[You’re not the brother she claimed you to be]] [[That doesn’t sound like you]] [[Something is happening to you too]] “You were dead for ten years,” I told him. “Why aren’t you with her constantly? Why has it been so long since you’ve seen her?” It made no sense. Not a day went by where Hazel wasn’t thinking of Malcolm. Trying to get him back in some capacity. And now that he was, he was just living his life elsewhere. “I- I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “Other things have gotten in the way…” “Gotten in the way? Malcolm, getting you back was her life mission for ten years and now you’re saying you can’t remember the last time you stopped by to have dinner with her? To chat? Even if your life has gotten busy you should have made time for that.” “No. I know. I’m not trying to make excuses. I have wanted to. I’ve just… forgotten.” [[You’re not the brother she claimed you to be]] [[That doesn’t sound like you]] [[Something is happening to you too]]“You’re not the brother she claimed you to be,” I told him, suddenly overcome with anger. It was his job to keep track of her. To be there for her. I trusted Malcolm. As my Gatekeeper and my friend. Why was he failing at such a simple task. Malcolm looked stunned by my words but didn’t refute them. “No. I’m probably not. Hazel does have a tendency of putting me and others up on a pedestal.” His eyes were lost somewhere in the direction of where Hazel’s home was. Trying to peer into his reasons for not letting his feet travel to her door. He ripped his gaze away, turning it back towards me. “I’ll go see her. But, I want to deal with this gate situation first. Mainly because I’m a little wary of it appearing. We don’t know what that’s going to do to you.” “We don’t know how long the gate situation is going to last,” I pointed out to him. “I want to at the very least be with you when we contact Milo,” he said. “After that, I will go and see Hazel. I promise.” [[I’ll hold you to it]] [[I want to be with you when you do]] [[Go see her now. I can go on my own]]“That doesn’t sound like you.” Malcolm was not just the kind of guy to forget. Especially about his sister. I remembered distinctively the night he came back. How he clung to her. How she buried her face in his shoulder and cried. They were not just going to go their separate ways after that. “I’m not the greatest brother,” he said, the words uttered nearly under his breath. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it still doesn’t sound like you to just forget about Hazel.” It was a feeling I had. A small flame I held dear. Malcolm didn't forget about people due to his own life. He ripped his gaze away, turning it back towards me. “No, you’re right. And I’ll go see her. But, I want to deal with this gate situation first. Mainly because I’m a little wary of it appearing. We don’t know what that’s going to do to you.” “We don’t know how long the gate situation is going to last,” I pointed out to him. “I want to at the very least be with you when we contact Milo,” he said. “After that, I will go and see Hazel. I promise.” [[I’ll hold you to it]] [[I want to be with you when you do]] [[Go see her now. I can go on my own]]“I don’t accept that. I may not have spent a lot of time with you two together but the way you both speak of each other said enough. You wouldn’t have just stayed away from Hazel for this long. There is no reason for it. Think, Malcolm. Did you two have a fight? Did something happen?” Malcolm was looking in the direction of his sister's home, his eyes slightly glazed. “I don’t know,” he told me honestly. “Something’s happened to both of you,” I told him. “Her forgetting me. You practically forgetting about her. That’s not right, Malcolm.” He ripped his gaze away, turning it back towards me. “No, you’re right. And I’ll go see her. But, I want to deal with this gate situation first. Mainly because I’m a little wary of it appearing. We don’t know what that’s going to do to you.” “We don’t know how long the gate situation is going to last,” I pointed out to him. “I want to at the very least be with you when we contact Milo,” he said. “After that, I will go and see Hazel. I promise.” [[I’ll hold you to it]] [[I want to be with you when you do]] [[Go see her now. I can go on my own]]“I’m going to hold you to that,” I told him. Malcolm was not going to get a choice in the matter. As soon as we finished up with the matter of the gate in my grave, I was sending him to Hazel. “I’d appreciate that.” Malcolm stood there for a moment, the steam from his tea dissipating in the dim light. When he lifted his gaze to me, I could see a small spot of fear bloom across his cheeks. “Do you believe her to be in trouble?” I didn’t know. I wanted to say no but how could I given what I had just seen. “I think that we need to get to the bottom of several things,” I stated. “Hazel’s memories being one of the top priorities.” “I agree,” he said softly. I watched as he physically shoved aside the discomfort that was settling on his shoulders. And just like that, the mild-mannered man was back in place. “Come on. Let's get this thing with Milo out of the way.” “Agreed.” And together, we walked further into the market, Hazel’s plight somewhere swirling in the back of each of our minds. [[Next|The Fight Club]]“I want to be with you when you go see her,” I told him. “A second pair of eyes on this situation might be helpful. Just in case there is anything going on.” “I’d appreciate that.” Malcolm stood there for a moment, the steam from his tea dissipating in the dim light. When he lifted his gaze to me, I could see a small spot of fear bloom across his cheeks. “Do you believe her to be in trouble?” I didn’t know. I wanted to say no but how could I given what I had just seen. “I think that we need to get to the bottom of several things,” I stated. “Hazel’s memories being one of the top priorities.” “I agree,” he said softly. I watched as he physically shoved aside the discomfort that was settling on his shoulders. And just like that, the mild-mannered man was back in place. “Come on. Let's get this thing with Milo out of the way.” “Agreed.” And together, we walked further into the market, Hazel’s plight somewhere swirling in the back of each of our minds. [[Next|The Fight Club]] I shook my head, crossing my arms. “Go see her now,” I told him. “Give me directions to this fight club thing and go see your sister.” I was working off of a suspicion. I didn’t think he could. Malcolm looked hesitant, not wanting to leave me. But, in the end, at least when it came to Malcolm, he tried to be respectful of my wishes. If I said I could handle something, he wasn’t one to tell me that I couldn’t. “Alright,” he conceded. Quickly, he gave me directions to the fight club. “Just, when you see Milo, don’t let him talk his way out of not going to the graveyard. I’ll be there as soon as I am finished up with Hazel, alright?” “Take your time,” I assured him. “She needs you.” It didn’t sit right with him. I could see it in the way he frowned, looking over his shoulder towards Hazel’s over and over again. He too was trying to puzzle together just why he hadn’t seen her. I waited until he walked away, rounding a corner before I headed on my way. I didn’t precisely know where the Fight Club was but I was finding that as long as I knew where I was going in general, my feet tended to carry me in the correct direction. While I wasn’t exactly excited to face the upcoming task without Malcolm, his lack of presence in Hazel’s life concerned me. There was something going on with the Albright’s. <<if $lucinda == "true">> The entire thing so very clearly pointed towards Lucinda Albright as the culprit.<</if>> When I turned the corner, Malcolm was standing there, as if he was waiting for me. “You ready?” he asked. The same glaze came over his eyes again. He was forgetting. “Yeah,” I said slowly. I would address it later. When we were somewhere that no one else could hear. “Let’s go.” He pushed off the wall, his cup of tea still in his hands. For a moment, he seemed confused that I had one as well. But it was wiped away as if it were nothing more than a meandering thought. [[Next|The Fight Club]] The mists were gone along with the old remnants of Kavatti. Instead, the cathedral now stood in the midst of a cobbled square with deep plum blossoms of wisteria and jasmine springing up through the cracks and cascading down the walls. It was the one area of the market that looked normal to me. Decadent, dark, and screaming of Belladonna Malady. It took everything in me not to just race inside and demand to see her. Knowing Belladonna, there was most likely guards watching me from the second I stepped in the square. I forced myself to instead walk calmly towards the double wood doors. The stained-glass windows telling the story of the angels and vampires stood proudly on display, no longer shrouded from people passing by. Their vibrant hues glowed with a faint light from within, filling the square with blocks of shifting color. Pushing my way inside, I let my eyes wander around. Gone were the undulating forms on each available surface. The coppery scent of blood was replaced by sweet honey suckle and the room was instead transformed into a small blood bar with little alcoves where people could privately drink from their desired human. “Welcome,” a smooth voice greeted me. The woman stood nearly seven feet tall and had a swath of braids that coiled back into a bun. Her rich, ebony skin was painted with flecks of gold, highlighting the snake tattoos she had slithering up each arm. “May I assist you in what you desire today?” [[What is it you offer?]] [[I am not here to be fed on]] [[I’m looking for Belladonna Malady]]“What is it you offer?” I asked. This was a far cry from the establishment that Kavatti had lorded over. Knowing Belladonna, she had most likely changed it out of simple spite. “Why, whatever you desire?” the woman purred. “You look like you beat with lifeblood. Are you here to feed one of the children of the night? Or are you looking for other pleasures.” I was not naive. I knew individuals came to become fed upon. To allow their bodies to nourish someone else. I was curious, however. “How much does it cost to feed someone?” The woman’s smile curled into a smirk. “Oh, no, my dear. Not here in the House of Malady. We pay you. After all, you are the one doing such a service for us. Not the other way around.” I raised my brow at her. So Belladonna had figured out a way to monetize the entire situation further than the few blood bars she owned. Looking around, I could see the signs of it. Areas designed for privacy. Allowing others to feed discretely. Along with several closed doors that led to much more pleasurable chambers. “I was actually wondering if you could get a message to Belladonna Malady for me. Could you please tell her that $name is here. That I am back from the dead.” The woman’s face twitched a little. “I see.” It was not out of the ordinary for someone to declare that they were back from beyond the grave. In a place where reincarnation had been fairly common, it had once been a part of every day conversation. But when I was apprehended, I wondered if that was what I had done wrong. It was the only reason I could think of for the way two men bled from the shadows, looping their arms around me and dragging me backwards. [[Struggle and fight them]] [[What the hell did I do?]] [[This is a misunderstanding]] “I’m not here to be fed on,” I said immediately. There was a part of me that wondered just what Belladonna’s reaction would be if she were to find me, lounging with someone elses fangs in my neck. Not that she had fed on me before. Our relationship, if it could be called that, still felt entirely too new for such discussions. “Of course,” the woman responded. “Would you like to sample our pleasures then? I could have a menu ready for you, catering to your different desires.” “No, sorry, I probably should have been more clear. I’m here to see Belladonna Malady. Is she in?” “Ah, yes.” I was clearly no longer a viable client and the woman took a step back. “She is but I’m afraid the Night Baron is quite booked.” “I was actually wondering if you could get a message to Belladonna Malady for me. Could you please tell her that $name is here. That I am back from the dead.” The woman’s face twitched a little. “I see.” It was not out of the ordinary for someone to declare that they were back from beyond the grave. In a place where reincarnation had been fairly common, it had once been a part of every day conversation. But when I was apprehended, I wondered if that was what I had done wrong. It was the only reason I could think of for the way two men bled from the shadows, looping their arms around me and dragging me backwards. [[Struggle and fight them]] [[What the hell did I do?]] [[This is a misunderstanding]] “I’m looking for Belladonna Malady,” I told the woman. “Oh, I’m sorry. The Night Baron is not available today. Would you like me to pencil in a meeting for you?” “The Night Baron?” So she had finally decided on a name. “Is there a way you could just go tell her that I’m here? I’m positive she would like to see me.” “Yes,” the woman smiled sweetly. “I’m sure she would. But unfortunately, the Night Baron has a lot on her plate. I can make a meeting for you and you can return in three new moons. I am sure she’d be very happy to see you.” “Three new moons?” “She is a very busy woman, as you may know.” “Look, please just tell her that $name is here. That I am back from the dead.” The woman’s face twitched a little. “I see.” It was not out of the ordinary for someone to declare that they were back from beyond the grave. In a place where reincarnation had been fairly common, it had once been a part of every day conversation. But when I was apprehended, I wondered if that was what I had done wrong. It was the only reason I could think of for the way two men bled from the shadows, looping their arms around me and dragging me backwards. [[Struggle and fight them]] [[What the hell did I do?]] [[This is a misunderstanding]] I kicked out, not letting them drag me away without a fight. My nails dug into their arms, sprouting half bloomed moons of red against their skin. I was tossed to the floor where two large creatures loomed over me. Their features elongated, and their skin stretched too thin over crooked bones. Large wings sprouted from their backs, holes punctures within each stretch of leathery skin. “By orders of the Night Baron. You will be executed for your transgressions,” a voice said from behind me. Muzzily, I turned, trying to find the person who spoke but instead my head felt as if it was filled with unraveling cotton as I stared into the too dark recess of the room. “No,” I protested weakly. “My name is $name. She knows me.” “Oh, I’m sure that’s your intention. To know her,” the voice said. “And maybe if you had tried this months ago your ruse would have succeeded. But as it is, she is a little sick of everyone taking that name in particular in vain and would rather just kill you all outright now.” “No. I’m me. I’m the real me. Just let me speak to her and I can prove it. I–” The woman stepped into the light. Her hair was twisted in light grey braids, woven through with a gem studded headpiece made of crystal pendants. Her skin was rich sable, full of warmth and life and yet I could see the red and gold molten tones of her eyes and the extension of her fangs. [[Try to fight back]] [[Cry out for Belladonna]] [[Try to get the person to see reason]]“What the hell did I even do?” I asked, looking up at my captors. The woman who had greeted me was staring at me with hardened eyes, power radiating from her form. I was tossed to the floor where two large creatures loomed over me. Their features elongated, and their skin stretched too thin over crooked bones. Large wings sprouted from their backs, holes punctures within each stretch of leathery skin. “By orders of the Night Baron. You will be executed for your transgressions,” a voice said from behind me. Muzzily, I turned, trying to find the person who spoke but instead my head felt as if it was filled with unraveling cotton as I stared into the too dark recess of the room. “No,” I protested weakly. “My name is $name. She knows me.” “Oh, I’m sure that’s your intention. To know her,” the voice said. “And maybe if you had tried this months ago your ruse would have succeeded. But as it is, she is a little sick of everyone taking that name in particular in vain and would rather just kill you all outright now.” “No. I’m me. I’m the real me. Just let me speak to her and I can prove it. I–” The woman stepped into the light. Her hair was twisted in light grey braids, woven through with a gem studded headpiece made of crystal pendants. Her skin was rich sable, full of warmth and life and yet I could see the red and gold molten tones of her eyes and the extension of her fangs. [[Try to fight back]] [[Cry out for Belladonna]] [[Try to get the person to see reason]]“Wait, please. This is a misunderstanding. I don’t know what I did but I am here to see Belladonna. I–” A cloth was put over my mouth as something sickly sweet filled my nostrils. My head grew fuzzy, and my legs gave out from under me as I was dragged into another room, the doors clanging shut behind me. I was tossed to the floor where two large creatures loomed over me. Their features elongated, and their skin stretched too thin over crooked bones. Large wings sprouted from their backs, holes punctures within each stretch of leathery skin. “By orders of the Night Baron. You will be executed for your transgressions,” a voice said from behind me. Muzzily, I turned, trying to find the person who spoke but instead my head felt as if it was filled with unraveling cotton as I stared into the too dark recess of the room. “No,” I protested weakly. “My name is $name. She knows me.” “Oh, I’m sure that’s your intention. To know her,” the voice said. “And maybe if you had tried this months ago your ruse would have succeeded. But as it is, she is a little sick of everyone taking that name in particular in vain and would rather just kill you all outright now.” “No. I’m me. I’m the real me. Just let me speak to her and I can prove it. I–” The woman stepped into the light. Her hair was twisted in light grey braids, woven through with a gem studded headpiece made of crystal pendants. Her skin was rich sable, full of warmth and life and yet I could see the red and gold molten tones of her eyes and the extension of her fangs. [[Try to fight back]] [[Cry out for Belladonna]] [[Try to get the person to see reason]] I lashed out, my movements sluggish with whatever was running through my body. The woman looked down at me with an irritated pity filling her dark sapphire eyes. As my hand slashed at her, she took a step back, tsking under her breath. I was not even worth the dirt under her boot. “Pathetic,” she spat. “Why do you all continue to try? To use such a tactic? Do you think us stupid? Do you think the mistress does not see right through this?” Looking down at me, her lips curled in a sneer, showing off the tips of her blood stained teeth. “What happened to the days that assassins had any decorum. You’re all just such weak little whining souls now. Depraved and lacking any sort of wit.” “And you talk too much,” I said. Gathering all my strength, I kicked out, catching her at the knee and watching as she buckled. Another ran forward to catch her but it gave me the advantage I needed to grab onto the midnight blue robes she wore and twist them within my grip. It was all I had in me, however. And she knew it. Grabbing my wrist she began to bend it back, stretching bone and tendon. “What is the meaning of this?” I froze at the sound of her voice. //Her// voice. Looking up, I noticed Belladonna in the doorway, a black dress clinging to her curves. Her hair was down around her shoulders in perfect waves. Her nails painted a blood-red. But when my eyes traveled up to her face, I froze. Her lips were bloodless and there were deep smudges beneath her eyes. All things that Belladonna would never have allowed herself to manifest if she could help it. “My lady,” the woman said, stepping forward and blocking Belladonna’s eyes from me. “You should be resting.” “I am fine, Gadora” she said curtly. “What is going on down here?” I was just hidden from her view. Lying in a pool of shadow, a crumpled mess on the ground. [[Listen to their conversation]] [[You’re in trouble now, Gadora]] [[Yell out for her]] <<set $gadoramad to "true">> Belladonna had once been considered the eyes and ears of the Night Market. There was nothing that went on without her knowledge and given that this was her very domain, I doubted it was much different here. So, I did the one thing I could think of in the moment with whatever drug was running through my system. “Belladonna!” I yelled out her name as loud as my voice would carry. The woman’s eyes widened a bit as she took a step forward. “Bellado–” A smack fell across my face from the woman with the frozen sapphire eyes. “Shut up,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare speak her name. You do not get the privilege to–” “What is the meaning of this?” I froze at the sound of her voice. //Her// voice. Looking up, I noticed Belladonna in the doorway, a black dress clinging to her curves. Her hair was down around her shoulders in perfect waves. Her nails painted a blood-red. But when my eyes traveled up to her face, I froze. Her lips were bloodless and there were deep smudges beneath her eyes. All things that Belladonna would never have allowed herself to manifest if she could help it. “My lady,” the woman said, stepping forward and blocking Belladonna’s eyes from me. “You should be resting.” “I am fine, Gadora” she said curtly. “What is going on down here?” I was just hidden from her view. Lying in a pool of shadow, a crumpled mess on the ground. [[Listen to their conversation]] [[You’re in trouble now, Gadora]] [[Yell out for her]]“I saw you. I know who you are. Please. You look as if you have been a great help to Belladonna since my passing. Just tell her I’m here. If she doesn’t believe me then you can kill me.” “You’re missing the point,” the woman said. “I no longer will be allowing her the pain of seeing your type. You all think you’re so clever. Trying to get meetings by masking yourself as ?them.” “That’s not what… People are doing that?” “I will no longer see the pain in her eyes. So, I’ll personally just kill each and every one of you now. There is really no point to telling her of your existence anymore. She has other things she needs to be focusing on.” “No, please. I–” “What is the meaning of this?” I froze at the sound of her voice. //Her// voice. Looking up, I noticed Belladonna in the doorway, a black dress clinging to her curves. Her hair was down around her shoulders in perfect waves. Her nails painted a blood-red. But when my eyes traveled up to her face, I froze. Her lips were bloodless and there were deep smudges beneath her eyes. All things that Belladonna would never have allowed herself to manifest if she could help it. “My lady,” the woman said, stepping forward and blocking Belladonna’s eyes from me. “You should be resting.” “I am fine, Gadora” she said curtly. “What is going on down here?” I was just hidden from her view. Lying in a pool of shadow, a crumpled mess on the ground. [[Listen to their conversation]] [[You’re in trouble now, Gadora]] [[Yell out for her]] I couldn’t bring myself to speak. There was something about her presence that I just wanted to relish in. Belladonna was the comfort after a long fight and even with her just in the room, I felt far more at ease than I had before. “It is nothing you need to concern yourself with, m’lady.” “I think perhaps I should be the judge of that. Seeing as you only get this way when it is something that obviously does concern me.” She took another step into the room, false moonlight edging through the arched windows. There was a bruise across her cheek. It was hidden by the pale line of makeup she had dabbed on her face. “Step aside, Gadora.” “Mistress, I really think you should be resting.” “And I think you are forgetting your place,” she cooed sweetly. “Now. Step. Aside.” Gadora bowed her head in deference, stepping aside and revealing me to Belladonna. Belladonna was in front of me before I could blink, face eerily close. There was a wildness to her eyes. One that I had never seen before. Leaning in close, she breathed me in deeply, dipping her head to start at my shoulder and following up the line of my neck. “My heart,” she breathed. She reached out with her hand, wishing to take my own. But it passed right through me. Both of us snapped our heads up, locking eyes. We stared at each other for the course of a long heartbeat, sure that I was going to be flung to the far reaches of the market at any moment. Or that she would wake up from this dream. When it didn’t happen, Belladonna nodded so subtly. A single tick of her head towards me to acknowledge that she knew. “Leave us,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady, I don’t–” She whipped around, eyes molten red. “Do not make me repeat myself.” “Yes, m’lady.” For all of Gadora’s bluster, she shuffled back on her orders immediately. It was not without shooting a murderous glare towards me. The room emptied in a matter of seconds. When Belladonna turned back to me, her eyes drained to that familiar gold. They softened around the edges and I felt as she drank me in, the air around me warming with her presence. Lifting her hand, it ghosted across my cheek, unable to make contact. “Oh, my heart. What happened?” [[I’m not sure yet]] [[Your guard dog tried to kill me]] [[Be overcome with emotion]] I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in my throat. My head felt as if it was too big for my body and was lolling to one side. Each bout of laughter rang through me with shooting little stabs. But I couldn’t help it. “You’re in trouble now, Gadora,” I said. I doubted Belladonna was going to take kindly to whatever was about to happen to me. Belladonna was in front of me before I could blink, face eerily close. There was a wildness to her eyes. One that I had never seen before. Leaning in close, she breathed me in deeply, dipping her head to start at my shoulder and following up the line of my neck. “My heart,” she breathed. She reached out with her hand, wishing to take my own. But it passed right through me. Both of us snapped our heads up, locking eyes. We stared at each other for the course of a long heartbeat, sure that I was going to be flung to the far reaches of the market at any moment. Or that she would wake up from this dream. When it didn’t happen, Belladonna nodded so subtly. A single tick of her head towards me to acknowledge that she knew. “Leave us,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady, I don’t–” She whipped around, eyes molten red. “Do not make me repeat myself.” “Yes, m’lady.” For all of Gadora’s bluster, she shuffled back on her orders immediately. It was not without shooting a murderous glare towards me. The room emptied in a matter of seconds. When Belladonna turned back to me, her eyes drained to that familiar gold. They softened around the edges and I felt as she drank me in, the air around me warming with her presence. Lifting her hand, it ghosted across my cheek, unable to make contact. “Oh, my heart. What happened?” [[I’m not sure yet]] [[Your guard dog tried to kill me]] [[Be overcome with emotion]]“Belladonna!” I gasped. She stepped around the other woman, staring at me with hard confusion. “It’s me. I swear it’s me. I…” Belladonna was in front of me before I could blink, face eerily close. There was a wildness to her eyes. One that I had never seen before. Leaning in close, she breathed me in deeply, dipping her head to start at my shoulder and following up the line of my neck. “My heart,” she breathed. She reached out with her hand, wishing to take my own. But it passed right through me. Both of us snapped our heads up, locking eyes. We stared at each other for the course of a long heartbeat, sure that I was going to be flung to the far reaches of the market at any moment. Or that she would wake up from this dream. When it didn’t happen, Belladonna nodded so subtly. A single tick of her head towards me to acknowledge that she knew. “Leave us,” she called over her shoulder. “My lady, I don’t–” She whipped around, eyes molten red. “Do not make me repeat myself.” “Yes, m’lady.” For all of Gadora’s bluster, she shuffled back on her orders immediately. It was not without shooting a murderous glare towards me. The room emptied in a matter of seconds. When Belladonna turned back to me, her eyes drained to that familiar gold. They softened around the edges and I felt as she drank me in, the air around me warming with her presence. Lifting her hand, it ghosted across my cheek, unable to make contact. “Oh, my heart. What happened?” [[I’m not sure yet]] [[Your guard dog tried to kill me]] [[Be overcome with emotion]]“I’m not sure yet,” I told her. “I have been trying to get back since the evening of the ball. It’s just taken me a while.” Belladonna looked at me, greedily drinking me in. “You’ve been following me,” she whispered. “Occasionally,” I said, a bit sheepishly. “I was trying to figure out a way to get back here. I may have found it but I’m not really sure what //it// is.” “Shh…” she said softly. Far softer than I was used to hearing from her voice. “You can tell me all about it later. For now, I just wish to see you.” <<if $gbpoly == "true">>I wished I could reached out and take her hand. Feel her against me. "Gabriel is not well," I told her in a hushed whisper. "I know," she said. "I have seen it." Frusteration coursed through me. This was not how I wanted my return to be. "I came back for you. For both of you. And yet it feels like I'm still not real."<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>“I came back for you,” I said in frustration. “And yet it feels as if I'm not even real.<</if>> Belladonna looked around the room, standing, her eyes traveling to each window and door. “Not here,” she told me. “Come.” Without waiting for me to rise, she walked over to a small painting on the wall, pushing it in and revealing a hidden passage. She waited for me to step inside before closing it. The passage itself was no more than a few feet deep and barely as wide. It was hot with the bright burning flames of flickering candles, the smoke filtering out through small cracks in the stone. “I would caution you to speaking so freely around me,” she said. “Why? What’s going on?” “I am unsure yet but until I know what is happening, I do not wish for you to be used as a pawn in some plot for my demise.” “Your what?” It was said with such casual ease. As if she were talking about her next meal. She waved me off. “I’m a Baron, dear heart. It comes with the territory. Now, tell me what we can do to make you corporeal again because I am not going to simply be satisfied with whatever is going on here.” “I don’t know. I–” “Never mind,” she said quickly, her hands twitching to reach out again. “Let me look at you.” [[Let her look]] [[Look back at her]] “Your guard dog tried to kill me,” I said, glancing towards the door that Gadora had disappeared through. Belladonna’s eyes hardened immediately. “Meaning?” “She drugged me and dragged me back here. All I did was tell her who I was and then ask for you. Who the hell is she?” “Someone that will be lucky if she survives the night,” Belladonna said evenly. Her fingers reached out again, as if forgetting that she could not touch me. They dropped at the last second, irritation more than present on her face. <<if $gbpoly == "true">>"Why are you even having someone like her as your guard. Gabriel could surely find you someone better. There was a flicker of pain across her face. "Gabriel is dealing with his own things, dear heart." I wished I could reached out and take her hand. "I know," I whispered, thinking of the desolation in his eyes. Frustration coursed through me. This was not how I wanted my return to be. "I came back for you. For both of you. And yet it feels like I'm still not real."<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>“I came back for you,” I said in frusteration her. “And yet it feels as if I'm not even real.<</if>> Belladonna looked around the room, standing, her eyes traveling to each window and door. “Not here,” she told me. “Come.” Without waiting for me to rise, she walked over to a small painting on the wall, pushing it in and revealing a hidden passage. She waited for me to step inside before closing it. The passage itself was no more than a few feet deep and barely as wide. It was hot with the bright burning flames of flickering candles, the smoke filtering out through small cracks in the stone. “I would caution you to speaking so freely around me,” she said. “Why? What’s going on?” “I am unsure yet but until I know what is happening, I do not wish for you to be used as a pawn in some plot for my demise.” “Your what?” It was said with such casual ease. As if she were talking about her next meal. She waved me off. “I’m a Baron, dear heart. It comes with the territory. Now, tell me what we can do to make you corporeal again because I am not going to simply be satisfied with whatever is going on here.” “I don’t know. I–” “Never mind,” she said quickly, her hands twitching to reach out again. “Let me look at you.” [[Let her look]] [[Look back at her]] Tears slipped from my fathomless eyes, falling down my cheeks in streaks of grey. “Why can’t we touch?” I asked. “I can touch everything else. Why can’t I touch you?” “I do not know, my darling. But I will be figuring it out as soon as I can. I–” she frowned. “Are you a spirit? Or are you whole?” “I don’t know. I was wandering these last few months and I wound up in a new alleyway. Goblins were attacking and I was able to be corporeal and then Pen gave me this talisman to walk around the market and…” “Shh….” she said softly. “You’re babbling.” <<if $gbpoly == "true">>I wished I could reached out and take her hand. Feel her against me. "Gabriel is not well," I told her, feeling the tears course down my cheeks. "He doesn't believe that I'm me." "You've seen him?" she asked curiously. "More than you know." Frustration coursed through me. This was not how I wanted my return to be. "I came back for you. For both of you. And yet it feels like I'm still not real."<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>“I came back for you,” I said in frusteration her. “And yet it feels as if I'm not even real.<</if>> Belladonna looked around the room, standing, her eyes traveling to each window and door. “Not here,” she told me. “Come.” Without waiting for me to rise, she walked over to a small painting on the wall, pushing it in and revealing a hidden passage. She waited for me to step inside before closing it. The passage itself was no more than a few feet deep and barely as wide. It was hot with the bright burning flames of flickering candles, the smoke filtering out through small cracks in the stone. “I would caution you to speaking so freely around me,” she said. “Why? What’s going on?” “I am unsure yet but until I know what is happening, I do not wish for you to be used as a pawn in some plot for my demise.” “Your what?” It was said with such casual ease. As if she were talking about her next meal. She waved me off. “I’m a Baron, dear heart. It comes with the territory. Now, tell me what we can do to make you corporeal again because I am not going to simply be satisfied with whatever is going on here.” “I don’t know. I–” “Never mind,” she said quickly, her hands twitching to reach out again. “Let me look at you.” [[Let her look]] [[Look back at her]] I let her look. Watched the way her eyes dragged over each familiar and unfamiliar line of me. Catching on small features. Tracing me with her gaze since she could not do so with her fingers. I could see the emotion that began to play across her. The things she would have hidden from a normal gaze being pushed to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. “Why are your eyes that way?” she whispered. There was no disappointment. Only a sort of curiosity at such a change. “There is no light in them.” “I don’t know. I’m assuming it has something to do with the lanterns going out. That we’re connected somehow. I never went back to my higher self. I just have been wandering. Almost like a spirit but not at the same time.” Belladonna frowned. “That is unheard of, is it not?” “I always went back before.” “So you remember then.” Her eyes searched me hungrily. “Are all the secrets of our world locked up in that beautiful head of yours.” “Not all of them. Some but not all.” “No. I suppose not. You’d go mad with that much knowledge.” [[Who was the woman out there?]] [[I don’t understand why I can’t touch you]] [[Press her why she looks the way she does]] This close, I could see the sallowness of her skin. The way her cheekbones protruded a bit more than usual. She looked gaunt. Despite her status as undead, she had always had a flush of life to her. To me, she had never looked truly dead. “When’s the last time you fed?” I asked. “When I was last hungry. Why are your eyes that way? There is no light in them.” “I don’t know. I’m assuming it has something to do with the lanterns going out. That we’re connected somehow. I never went back to my higher self. I just have been wandering. Almost like a spirit but not at the same time.” Belladonna frowned. “That is unheard of, is it not?” “I always went back before.” “So you remember then.” Her eyes searched me hungrily. “Are all the secrets of our world locked up in that beautiful head of yours.” “Not all of them. Some but not all.” “No. I suppose not. You’d go mad with that much knowledge.” [[Who was the woman out there?]] [[I don’t understand why I can’t touch you]] [[Press her why she looks the way she does]]“Who was that woman out there?” I asked, remembering the sapphire eyes and the possessiveness that they set upon Belladonna. I didn’t like it. Belladonna rolled her eyes, leaning back a bit. “Gadora. She’s an ambitious sort. One that has proven quite helpful when it comes to managing my schedule. But she can get a bit overzealous.” <<if $gadoramad == "true">> She looked at the evidence of that overzealous nature, spread across my face. “She will be punished for what she has done,” Belladonna assured me. “I will pull her teeth out with my own bare hands.”<</if>> “I don’t remember you having a secretary before,” I said. “Life has gotten a bit tedious,” she admitted through gritted teeth. “There is a gate in my grave. We think it might be able to make me whole again.” She raised a brow at me. “So I assume you know where the bastard is?” “Yes.” Or at least, I knew the direction in which Milo now roamed. “Good. I can kill him then.” It was with a clipped turn that she went to go open the door, expecting me to follow and be her guide towards the Gatekeeper. “Bella, I need the gate open.” “Yes yes. So we kill him, someone else becomes a gatekeeper, and we make them do our bidding. It’s all terribly simple, dear. Let me handle it. His blood will taste very sweet, I suspect.” “I’m afraid he might like that too much,” I muttered. When Belladonna got something in her head, it was rare to be dissuaded. I had a feeling that even if I put my foot down, she would have followed me to my meeting spot with Malcolm. There was no doubt that she had spent most of her time as of late, trying to find Milo and kill him for what he’d done. But, when she opened the door, gliding out into the main room, she doubled over. I ran towards her. “Bella?” “It’s nothing,” she said, waving me off. I tried to grab her, but my hands kept passing through her. Sinking through the pale thinness of her arms where blue veins stood prominent against her skin. “$name, it is nothing. I promise.” “It is something,” I told her. “You're sick or something. What is going on?” The doors opened revealing Gadora. She apparently had not gone far and was now sweeping into the room, picking Belladonna like she was nothing more than a child. I watched as Belladonna’s head lolled back, and her eyes fluttered shut. “I think it is time you leave,” Gadora stated. “What is happening to her?” I demanded, feeling the urge to rush forward and steal her from the woman's embrace. “Tell me,” I said instead. Because what else could I do? “I owe you nothing,” Gadora said. It was as if I wasn’t even there. “Now, go do whatever it is you were doing before coming here and leave us alone.” [[Us?]] [[I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on]] [[Please, I am just worried about her]]“I don’t understand why I can’t touch you,” I ground out desperately. “I can touch others. I can manipulate this world. Why is it when it comes to the one thing I desire, I cannot reach out and touch it?” She smiled softly at me, a tone of mischief in her eyes. “Because, dear heart. Nothing worth having is ever easy.” “There is a gate in my grave. We think it might be able to make me whole again.” She raised a brow at me. “So I assume you know where the bastard is?” “Yes.” Or at least, I knew the direction in which Milo now roamed. “Good. I can kill him then.” It was with a clipped turn that she went to go open the door, expecting me to follow and be her guide towards the Gatekeeper. “Bella, I need the gate open.” “Yes yes. So we kill him, someone else becomes a gatekeeper, and we make them do our bidding. It’s all terribly simple, dear. Let me handle it. His blood will taste very sweet, I suspect.” “I’m afraid he might like that too much,” I muttered. When Belladonna got something in her head, it was rare to be dissuaded. I had a feeling that even if I put my foot down, she would have followed me to my meeting spot with Malcolm. There was no doubt that she had spent most of her time as of late, trying to find Milo and kill him for what he’d done. But, when she opened the door, gliding out into the main room, she doubled over. I ran towards her. “Bella?” “It’s nothing,” she said, waving me off. I tried to grab her, but my hands kept passing through her. Sinking through the pale thinness of her arms where blue veins stood prominent against her skin. “$name, it is nothing. I promise.” “It is something,” I told her. “You're sick or something. What is going on?” The doors opened revealing Gadora. She apparently had not gone far and was now sweeping into the room, picking Belladonna like she was nothing more than a child. I watched as Belladonna’s head lolled back, and her eyes fluttered shut. “I think it is time you leave,” Gadora stated. “What is happening to her?” I demanded, feeling the urge to rush forward and steal her from the woman's embrace. “Tell me,” I said instead. Because what else could I do? “I owe you nothing,” Gadora said. It was as if I wasn’t even there. “Now, go do whatever it is you were doing before coming here and leave us alone.” [[Us?]] [[I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on]] [[Please, I am just worried about her]]“Bella, you don’t look–” “Caution yourself,” she said, tone tight. “Are you sick?” There was a stench of death that was around her. It clung to her skin like the finest of lace. She had tried to mask it with crush violets at each point of her wrist but I still knew it was there. “I’m tired, my heart. Being a Baron is full of strife and I will admit that while the assassination attempts were fun in the beginning, they have been wearing down my patience.” I doubted that was everything. But I was so enamored with seeing her again, I did not want to press. All I wanted was to become corporeal and feel my body pressed to hers again. To go back to her home, the little sanctuary where the world was locked away. But there was a grave out there that had a gate at the bottom of it and a Gatekeeper that I was supposed to go and find. “I want to stay,” I told her. She looked at me sadly. “But life has a funny way of taking you away from me. What is so important, Night Market.” “There is a gate in my grave. We think it might be able to make me whole again.” She raised a brow at me. “So I assume you know where the bastard is?” “Yes.” Or at least, I knew the direction in which Milo now roamed. “Good. I can kill him then.” It was with a clipped turn that she went to go open the door, expecting me to follow and be her guide towards the Gatekeeper. “Bella, I need the gate open.” “Yes yes. So we kill him, someone else becomes a gatekeeper, and we make them do our bidding. It’s all terribly simple, dear. Let me handle it. His blood will taste very sweet, I suspect.” “I’m afraid he might like that too much,” I muttered. When Belladonna got something in her head, it was rare to be dissuaded. I had a feeling that even if I put my foot down, she would have followed me to my meeting spot with Malcolm. There was no doubt that she had spent most of her time as of late, trying to find Milo and kill him for what he’d done. But, when she opened the door, gliding out into the main room, she doubled over. I ran towards her. “Bella?” “It’s nothing,” she said, waving me off. I tried to grab her, but my hands kept passing through her. Sinking through the pale thinness of her arms where blue veins stood prominent against her skin. “$name, it is nothing. I promise.” “It is something,” I told her. “You're sick or something. What is going on?” The doors opened revealing Gadora. She apparently had not gone far and was now sweeping into the room, picking Belladonna like she was nothing more than a child. I watched as Belladonna’s head lolled back, and her eyes fluttered shut. “I think it is time you leave,” Gadora stated. “What is happening to her?” I demanded, feeling the urge to rush forward and steal her from the woman's embrace. “Tell me,” I said instead. Because what else could I do? “I owe you nothing,” Gadora said. It was as if I wasn’t even there. “Now, go do whatever it is you were doing before coming here and leave us alone.” [[Us?]] [[I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on]] [[Please, I am just worried about her]]“Us?” I asked her. There was no ‘us’. Not when it came to Gadora and Belladonna. “You can leave.” The door slammed behind them and despite my efforts to follow, I could not. The walls swallowed the door, locking me off from going any further. In its place was nothing more than a seamless expanse of stone. I stared at it. Belladonna was sick. It was all I could think of. She was sick and I couldn’t help her. Fear began to consume me. [[Next|Back to Malcolm]]“I’m not leaving until you tell me what is happening.” I tried my hardest to seem intimidating, despite my inability to reach out and touch anyone. She didn’t even give me a second glance. “You can leave.” The door slammed behind them and despite my efforts to follow, I could not. The walls swallowed the door, locking me off from going any further. In its place was nothing more than a seamless expanse of stone. I stared at it. Belladonna was sick. It was all I could think of. She was sick and I couldn’t help her. Fear began to consume me. [[Next|Back to Malcolm]]“Please,” I told her. “I am just worried about her. What is wrong? How can I help?” “You can leave.” The door slammed behind them and despite my efforts to follow, I could not. The walls swallowed the door, locking me off from going any further. In its place was nothing more than a seamless expanse of stone. I stared at it. Belladonna was sick. It was all I could think of. She was sick and I couldn’t help her. Fear began to consume me. [[Next|Back to Malcolm]] I spotted Malcolm at the place where we were to convene. He had two cups of steaming tea in his hands and was leaning against a dark alley wall, backlit only by the waxy candles dripping from the ledge above. “How’d it go?” he called out to me. I shook my head. “Something isn’t right.” Stepping to his side, I took the proffered cup of tea. It warmed my palms, the light floral scent of jasmine swirling around me. “Have you seen her at all?” “No,” he said, sipping his tea. “What happened?” “I don’t know but she…” I trailed off, looking around. Shadows lurked in each corner, lingering through the alleyways. Some were individuals, making their way home. Others were opportunists. “It’s nothing,” I told him, giving him a sideways look. The last thing I needed to be speaking about in the open was Belladonna Malady’s health. She didn’t even wish for me to speak openly in her own domain. Malcolm nodded as he pushed off the wall. “Shall we then?” I could read it in his eyes though. We’d talk about this later. He wasn’t going to let me sit and fester. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with. To the fight club or whatever it is we are going to.” [[Next|The Fight Club]] I walked towards Gabriel’s house. It was an odd choice given that I was certain he was rarely home, but it was where my feet carried me. I had been to the little row of houses exactly twice in the entire time that I had known Gabriel, having spent far more time at his office or on patrol with him. But when I came down the monochromatic street, each stoop lit with various colored candles, my eyes roamed to the door that I knew led to his home. He was stepping out of it, locking it behind him. His stoop had no candles burning upon it. I could see the remnants of wax but it was as if he couldn’t be bothered to light them. He had his uniform on like always but it was unbuttoned, the shirt beneath wrinkled while the belt to his sword sagged on his hips. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep from them as he pushed his keys into his pockets and turned to walk to work. He was almost at my side before he lifted his head and noticed me. Lines ran up the side of his neck, spidering out towards his jaw. They looked like cracked pieces of parchment. Grey in color and painful to look at. Even though he looked at me, he seemed to be looking right through me. His eyes trying to see through whatever illusion he assumed was at play. When I continued to stare at him, he only sighed heavily. “Out of my way, demon,” he muttered. He went to walk by me, stepping to the right and paying me no mind. [[Gabriel. It’s me. I’m here now]] [[You can’t possibly think I’m a demon]] [[What do I need to do to make you see that I’m me?]]“Gabriel,” I whispered. “It’s me. I’m here now.” I wanted to beg him to believe me. To just prove to him that I was me. But mostly, I wanted to take the pain I saw behind his eyes, and bury it in my grave, along with the memories of my passing. “Gabriel, please…” He didn’t answer me as his feet pounded down the street, heading towards the beach and the cavernous prison that sat on the shore. “Gabriel.” I reached out for him. Maybe if he could feel me he would understand. But I stumbled, falling right through him. Gabriel didn’t even stop. If anything, his feet carried him faster away. I stood there stunned, however, staring down at the talisman that I had tied around my wrist. For one dreadful moment I assumed it wasn’t working. And that I would be sucked back into the liminal space. But I was here. The ground felt solid beneath my feet and as I reached out to lean against the wall, my hand connected firmly to its expanse. Gabriel seemed to be the only one I could not touch. Running, I went to catch up with him. “Gabriel, something is wrong. I can touch other things. I can touch Malcolm. But for some reason I can’t you.” Again, he didn’t speak. When he turned the corner, we passed a woman, carrying home a basket of food. “Warden,” she said in greeting. [[Ignore the woman and keep talking to Gabriel]] [[Ask the woman if she can see you]]“You can’t possibly think I’m a demon,” I said. He should know what demons were. Even as a Fallen, I knew he was far more knowledgeable on them than others. Even me. He had to know that I gave off none of the magic that indicated such a nature. He didn’t answer me as his feet pounded down the street, heading towards the beach and the cavernous prison that sat on the shore. “Gabriel.” I reached out for him. Maybe if he could feel me he would understand. But I stumbled, falling right through him. Gabriel didn’t even stop. If anything, his feet carried him faster away. I stood there stunned, however, staring down at the talisman that I had tied around my wrist. For one dreadful moment I assumed it wasn’t working. And that I would be sucked back into the liminal space. But I was here. The ground felt solid beneath my feet and as I reached out to lean against the wall, my hand connected firmly to its expanse. Gabriel seemed to be the only one I could not touch. Running, I went to catch up with him. “Gabriel, something is wrong. I can touch other things. I can touch Malcolm. But for some reason I can’t you.” Again, he didn’t speak. When he turned the corner, we passed a woman, carrying home a basket of food. “Warden,” she said in greeting. [[Ignore the woman and keep talking to Gabriel]] [[Ask the woman if she can see you]]“Gabriel, I’m not a demon. I’m me. $name. What do I need to do to make you see that?” There was a part of me that had maybe understood it when I wasn’t here but now, Pen’s talisman glowed in an effort to keep me on these streets. To bring me to him. He didn’t answer me as his feet pounded down the street, heading towards the beach and the cavernous prison that sat on the shore. “Gabriel.” I reached out for him. Maybe if he could feel me he would understand. But I stumbled, falling right through him. Gabriel didn’t even stop. If anything, his feet carried him faster away. I stood there stunned, however, staring down at the talisman that I had tied around my wrist. For one dreadful moment I assumed it wasn’t working. And that I would be sucked back into the liminal space. But I was here. The ground felt solid beneath my feet and as I reached out to lean against the wall, my hand connected firmly to its expanse. Gabriel seemed to be the only one I could not touch. Running, I went to catch up with him. “Gabriel, something is wrong. I can touch other things. I can touch Malcolm. But for some reason I can’t you.” Again, he didn’t speak. When he turned the corner, we passed a woman, carrying home a basket of food. “Warden,” she said in greeting. [[Ignore the woman and keep talking to Gabriel]] [[Ask the woman if she can see you]] I slipped by the woman, giving her a wide berth so as not to knock into her or her food. She was elderly and looked as if her the movements through the market had made her tired. “Mrs. Farwell,” Gabriel intoned with a nod. “I hope this day finds you and your family in good health.” “Lots of it, Warden. You let me know the next time that father of yours is coming by. I have that muffin recipe that he wanted.” Gabriel’s smile was thin but it often was when addressing the public. “Of course. Reese will be happy to partake in such ancestral pleasures.” The woman moved on, satisfied, while Gabriel tried his best to ignore my very presence. “Gabriel,” I continued. “You cannot just ignore me.” “And yet, that is what I have been doing. You are a figment. A false advertisement to a better life. Given that you cannot touch me, I would say you are a cheap one at that.” “Gabriel,” I said softly. “Are you listening to yourself? That’s not what is happening here. I came back. Just like everyone does in this market.” He laughed bitterly. “No one returns to this market. Not as they were. They share features. Traits. But they are not the ones who passed. That story is nothing more than a children's tale spoken to give some amount of comfort to those who grieve.” Turning, he began walking away again, storming through the market as if he was running from the devil at his back. [[Try to approach this with compassion and understanding]] [[Feel the tears well in your eyes]] [[Angrily go after him]] “Can you see me?” I asked her bluntly. She turned, looking at me in confusion. “Yes?” “See?” I shouted at Gabriel. “I’m here. I’m actually here. I’m not a figment of your imagination.” The leather of his gloves cracked as he tightened his fist. “It is good to see you in good health, Mrs. Farwell. Please be vigilant. The streets are secure but not yet entirely safe.” “Thank you, Warden.” The woman responded, entirely confused. She moved on, looking at us back and forth. When I turned back to Gabriel, his eyes were sparked with irritation. “Refrain from infecting others with whatever it is that is going on here. They are not involved in this.” “I was trying to prove to you that I am real,” I told him. “That you are not just seeing me. Others can as well.” “And yet, you cannot touch me,” he hissed. “How do I know you are not just a projection? Something to toy with me. That you did not cast the image of Mrs. Farwell in my mind.” “Gabriel,” I said softly. “Are you listening to yourself? That’s not what is happening here. I came back. Just like everyone does in this market.” He laughed bitterly. “No one returns to this market. Not as they were. They share features. Traits. But they are not the ones who passed. That story is nothing more than a children's tale spoken to give some amount of comfort to those who grieve.” Turning, he began walking away again, storming through the market as if he was running from the devil at his back. [[Try to approach this with compassion and understanding]] [[Feel the tears well in your eyes]] [[Angrily go after him]] Madness. It took every Fallen eventually. That was what we were all told. That it was only staved off for a short while before windings it's way around a Celestials neck and hanging them from its frayed noose. “Gabriel,” I started. “I know that this seems impossible. I can only imagine what you are thinking. But I need you to trust me. Just for a minute. It’s me. I’m not a demon. You are not viewing a spirit. I am me. I’m //yours//. “Lies,” he said, the word hitching near the end. “It’s all just lies.” “No,” I whispered. “It’s not. Just think about it for a moment. You must know I’m real. Herald Frankenstein came to speak with you, remember? Upon my behest.” There was not even a twitch of doubt in the lines of his face. “Gabriel, please. I am me. The very person that was in your precinct. The one who you tried to throw into the pits. I held your hand after Elias’s place. I was with you when Reese cooked for us. I know they are your fathers and that you love them both dearly and…” I startled as he turned on his heel, stepping towards me. His face was close to mine and I could smell unwashed breath and the hint of a salve that was cracking across the lines of his skin. “You do not speak ?their name,” he said. “Ever. I do not know what you want from me but you will not get it. Now go. I will entertain your presence no longer.” “I’m real,” I said in desperation. “You’re not,” he said, looking me up and down. “I would know $name if ?they were here. I would weep at ?their feet for ?their return. My heart would call to ?theirs. When I look at you? I feel nothing but disgust. You are not ?them. You never will be.” And with that he was gone. I didn’t even watch him go. Just stood, staring at where he had been, feeling the weight of his words settle against me. [[Next|Gabriel back to Malcolm]] Tears began to well in my eyes, blurring my vision and casting him in a sea of dark skin and rumbled uniform. The pain that radiated off of him nearly sent me to my knees. He had broken in my absence. Had nothing to believe in any further. And now, even with salvation and hope begging in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to take it. “Gabriel,” I said, feeling my cheeks grow wet. “Please.” If my tears swayed him, he didn’t give any indication of it. He turned away from me, showing me his back as he continued walking. I was certain that he expected me to leave. That he would turn around and I just wouldn’t be here any longer. “I'm me," I tried. "The very person that was in your precinct. The one who you tried to throw into the pits. I held your hand after Elias’s place. I was with you when Reese cooked for us. I know they are your fathers and that you love them both dearly and…” I startled as he turned on his heel, stepping towards me. His face was close to mine and I could smell unwashed breath and the hint of a salve that was cracking across the lines of his skin. “You do not speak ?their name,” he said. “Ever. I do not know what you want from me but you will not get it. Now go. I will entertain your presence no longer.” “I’m real,” I said in desperation. “You’re not,” he said, looking me up and down. “I would know $name if ?they were here. I would weep at ?their feet for ?their return. My heart would call to ?theirs. When I look at you? I feel nothing but disgust. You are not ?them. You never will be.” And with that he was gone. I didn’t even watch him go. Just stood, staring at where he had been, feeling the weight of his words settle against me. [[Next|Gabriel back to Malcolm]]“Oh no you don’t,” I muttered to myself, chasing after him. I was not going to let him fall like this. To give into whatever his brain was trying to tell him. I was real and I needed him by my side. When I stepped up to him, he glanced at me again, a moment of desperation lingering as he saw the visage of me. But he kept walking. His lips pressed in a thin line. “I’m not going away,” I told him. “You know I am real. Herald Frankenstein came and spoke to you about me. At my behest.” “And he said you could not leave Artisan Alley and yet here you are.” “I received a talisman,” I stated. “Something that can let me leave.” “How convenient,” he sneered. “Gabriel, please. I am me. The very person that was in your precinct. The one who you tried to throw into the pits. I held your hand after Elias’s place. I was with you when Reese cooked for us. I know they are your fathers and that you love them both dearly and…” I startled as he turned on his heel, stepping towards me. His face was close to mine and I could smell unwashed breath and the hint of a salve that was cracking across the lines of his skin. “You do not speak ?their name,” he said. “Ever. I do not know what you want from me but you will not get it. Now go. I will entertain your presence no longer.” “I’m real,” I said in desperation. “You’re not,” he said, looking me up and down. “I would know $name if ?they were here. I would weep at ?their feet for ?their return. My heart would call to ?theirs. When I look at you? I feel nothing but disgust. You are not ?them. You never will be.” And with that he was gone. I didn’t even watch him go. Just stood, staring at where he had been, feeling the weight of his words settle against me. [[Next|Gabriel back to Malcolm]] I spotted Malcolm at the place where we were to convene. He had two cups of steaming tea in his hands and was leaning against a dark alley wall, backlit only by the waxy candles dripping from the ledge above. “How’d it go?” he called out to me. I shook my head, coming to stand by Malcolm’s side. “He doesn’t believe that I’m real,” I said numbly. Malcolm frowned at that, gently handing me the paper cup of piping hot tea. “What does that mean?” “I can’t touch him,” I murmured. “I can’t prove to him that I’m real. The entire time I traveled the liminal space, he could see me. He would look at me, sometimes speak to me, but I could do nothing to prove to him that it was not a demon wearing my face.” “Why would he think you a demon?” Malcolm asked. “I don’t know. He won’t speak to me about any of it. It’s like his mind is cast to the furthest reaches of the market and everything that he hears or takes in are only fragments of the truth.” Malcolm reached out, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Lamplight. I don’t know what to even say on that.” I nodded. It wasn’t as if I was expecting Malcolm to do anything, I merely needed to tell someone before the knowledge itself broke me. “He’s in so much pain,” I whispered. It etched across each break in his skin. His pain was now festering wounds that marked him for the rest of the world to see. “Then we’ll help him,” Malcolm said. “We’ll put our heads together and figure something out.” I let my eyes drop to the ground. “Thank you,” I said. “Of course. Now, let’s go get this Milo thing over with, yeah? That way we can focus on that Warden of yours.” I found myself smiling. Just a little. Because with Malcolm here, I at least didn’t feel so alone. [[Next|The Fight Club]] The roar of the crowd reached us as we turned down another alley way, walking past old derelict warehouses with broken windows and rusted pipes. A few looked as if they had movement lingering within but they were uninviting. Watching us. The warehouse at the end of the lane was twice the size of any of them. Warm, rusted light fell from within and spilled out over the cobbled streets. The doors were wide open at the top, letting in the night air and I could see individuals swarming the front landing, cheering loudly at whatever was happening below. “You sure you want to do this?” Malcolm asked. “It’s not too soon to turn back.” Milo was in there somewhere. From sinking a key into my chest and watching as the lights around us faded, to being here now. It didn’t feel real, somehow. Walking into this club, knowing who I was and who he was supposed to be. There were certainly questions he needed to answer. But more than that, I needed to look him in the eye. “I want to do this,” I told Malcolm. It was all he needed. Gesturing before us, he led me down the piss scented alleyway, stained with the coppery tang of blood. Bits of concrete crumbled from the abandoned buildings, falling to the ground with each shake and rumble that emitted from the only lit up building along the path. When we reached the club itself, we didn’t go towards the large set of doors on the ground floor but instead climbed up the rickety wrought iron fire escape to the second floor where the entrance stood far more inviting. “Marv,” Malcolm said with a nod. A big man with curling horns stood outside the doors, his arms thick as branches and corded in front of him. “Mal,” the man said in surprise. “Heard somethin’ about you bein’ back. How’s it feel?” “Like I never left,” he said with a smirk. The kind that I used to see on Milo. I wondered who learned it from whom. “Ha!” the big man shuddered with laughter. “Bullshit, that. But, it’s good to have you back. Thought it’d still be a few years. Good to see Death has let you go pretty quickly.” “Thanks,” Malcolm said with a nod. “There a cover tonight?” “Not for you,” Marv said, stepping aside. “You fighten’ tonight? Didn’t see your name on the list.” “Nah, those days are behind me. Came to watch the show though.” “Your boy is up soon,” Marv said. “Between you and me, I wouldn’t bet on him tonight. He’s on a winnin’ streak. Meanin’ it's gonna fail real soon.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Malcolm said. He ushered me to step in front of him. [[Next|Chapter Two 5]] The smell of sweat and bourbon filled the air, the faintest scent of blood coaxing its way within the room with each slap of a fist that wetly sounded from down below. We stood on an upper mezzanine. The floors and ceiling were made out of a deep mahogany wood with a bar that spanned the entire length of three of the walls. Leather stools were placed beneath the bar, some of them occupied, while others took their drinks and leaned over the railing to look down below. If I thought the upper floor was packed, it was nothing compared to the amount of people that were below. The warehouse sunk down into the earth where a small stage was roped off. On the outside of the velvet links people gathered together, pressing shoulder to shoulder in order to watch the fight. Within the ropes was a beautiful, shining pine colored floor. Splattered with blood as two individuals fought each other, their fists dripping with sweat and blood. "What's your plan then?" Malcolm asked. He kept his voice low and casual but there was a sudden shift that I could feel with his words. I wondered if despite him not being the Gatekeeper any longer, if we were still connected. "What do you mean?" "How are you going to handle him? Because I'd say that's going to be the first big decision here." [[I'm hurt, but I am going to handle him with care]] [[I'm hurt. Anger might get the best of me]] [[I'll do what feels right in the moment but stay firm]] “We’ll stay up here until the fight's done,” I said. “I don’t want him to see us. Not yet.” Malcolm tipped his head to the side, observing the scene below. Bets were being exchanged, and a low buzz thrummed within the crowd as they waited for the next fight. “You could just go to his dressing room,” he suggested. “Slip in there while he’s fighting. I’ll follow him after the fights done to make sure he can’t run back out.” My eyes glanced down towards the metal doors that I had seen the fighters coming in and out of. “Which ones his?” Malcolm pointed out a door that was no different than all the rest, except for the fact that it seemed to be a bit more faded with light. “That one. He’s superstitious and has never chosen another room. If you go outside and go to the alley out back, his dressing room will be the third door. Knowing him, it will be unlocked. He never thinks of things like that.” With a significant look, I nodded towards Malcolm. It was a better plan that risking getting spotted in the crowd. I didn't want the first time I saw him again to be with an audience. Milo was a performer and the more off guard I caught him, the more genuine of a response I would probbably recieve. I peeled away from Malcolm without another word, preparing myself for the upcoming moments. [[Next]] “We’ll go down there and wait,” I said. “Keep to the back a little so he doesn’t see us right away.” "You know he's probably going to feel you, right?" I didn't. But I supposed it made sense. The Gatekeeper was supposed to keep an eye on the Night Market at all times. "Let's just try to blend." We walked down the metal fire escape to the lower floor, the structure swaying beneath our feet. They were crowning a winner, holding a woman's hand up over her head while the other one laid on the ground groaning. I didn’t know the rules of this fight club but I was assuming that the fight went until one of them tapped out. Or landed unconscious. Money traded hands within the crowd and as we reached the bottom landing, a shorter man approached us with a box strapped around his middle. Bits of gold, little pieces of metal, and paper notes, all stuck to the bottom of his tray. “Wanna make a bet?” he asked, grinning at me. When he saw Malcolm his grin grew even wider. “Been a bit since w’eve seen you here, Malcolm! How is life treating you the second time around? Better than the first?” “Too early to tell,” Malcolm said. “No bets tonight. We’re just here to watch.” “Should be a good fight. Milo’s been dragging them out for the showmanship. Need to get someone in here that is an actual match for him. You sure you don’t want to break that rule and go in there and fight him yourself? You probably know his tricks.” “Probably not,” Malcolm said. “Haven’t sparred with him in nearly fifteen years.” “Aw, forgot about that. Death does funny things with time. I myself have only been back now for four years,” he said proudly. I blinked. “You were dead?” “As a rat. My time piece ticked to life pretty quickly, thank the market. What about you? Want to bet?” “I have no money,” I told him truthfully. Which brought me to the conclusion that despite being the world itself, I really didn’t have the ability to navigate it. Yet again. With no prospect of money, the man's eyes were already searching out for a prospective gambler. “Enjoy the show, you two!” he called, disappearing into the crowd. “Come on,” Malcolm said. He led me to a darker corner of the bottom floor. The floor cleared out, as small broomstick men bustled out and wiped up the blood and sweat. I momentarily felt it ridiculous that these people were beating the shit out of each other and yet they seemed to be concerned about the blood content. When the door to the back room opened, I turned, looking over the gathered crowd. Individuals parted to let through a tall, muscular man. He looked eerily similar to the man outside. His right eye was already black, showing up sickly against his light blue skin. His white hair was pulled back into a braid and his coal-black eyes peered at the crowd with a calculating look. “Fuck,” Mal muttered under his breath. I did a double take, never having really heard Malcolm cuss before. “Good fighter, I take it?” “The guy's bones are made of steel. Literally. Milo’s going to shatter his damn hand.” On the other side, the doors opened again. <<if $miloro == "true">>My heart stopped.<</if>> [[Next|Milo Entrance]] “I’m not hiding. I’m going to go down there and let him see me.” “You sure?” Malcolm asked. “I have nothing to hide.” “I’m not saying you do. I’m just following your lead, Lamplight. Making sure that you’re doing what you want to do. And not what you think he needs you to do.” “What does that mean?” Malcolm raised his hands up. “I’m not trying to make an issue out of this. All I’m saying is I know what it is like to fall under Milo’s spell. I want to make sure that whatever you are about to do, no matter what it is, is for you. Not for him. Not for me. Not for anyone else. Just for you.” I blinked at him, my words failing me. I just wanted to know what was happening to me. For the first time, I actually cared about what was to come. We walked down the metal fire escape to the lower floor, the structure swaying beneath our feet. They were crowning a winner, holding a woman's hand up over her head while the other one laid on the ground groaning. I didn’t know the rules of this fight club but I was assuming that the fight went until one of them tapped out. Or landed unconscious. Money traded hands within the crowd and as we reached the bottom landing, a shorter man approached us with a box strapped around his middle. Bits of gold, little pieces of metal, and paper notes, all stuck to the bottom of his tray. “Wanna make a bet?” he asked, grinning at me. When he saw Malcolm his grin grew even wider. “Been a bit since w’eve seen you here, Malcolm! How is life treating you the second time around? Better than the first?” “Too early to tell,” Malcolm said. “No bets tonight. We’re just here to watch.” “Should be a good fight. Milo’s been dragging them out for the showmanship. Need to get someone in here that is an actual match for him. You sure you don’t want to break that rule and go in there and fight him yourself? You probably know his tricks.” “Probably not,” Malcolm said. “Haven’t sparred with him in nearly fifteen years.” “Aw, forgot about that. Death does funny things with time. I myself have only been back now for four years,” he said proudly. I blinked. “You were dead?” “As a rat. My time piece ticked to life pretty quickly, thank the market. What about you? Want to bet?” “I have no money,” I told him truthfully. Which brought me to the conclusion that despite being the world itself, I really didn’t have the ability to navigate it. Yet again. With no prospect of money, the man's eyes were already searching out for a prospective gambler. “Enjoy the show, you two!” he called, disappearing into the crowd. “Come on,” Malcolm said. He led me to a darker corner of the bottom floor. The floor cleared out, as small broomstick men bustled out and wiped up the blood and sweat. I momentarily felt it ridiculous that these people were beating the shit out of each other and yet they seemed to be concerned about the blood content. When the door to the back room opened, I turned, looking over the gathered crowd. Individuals parted to let through a tall, muscular man. He looked eerily similar to the man outside. His right eye was already black, showing up sickly against his light blue skin. His white hair was pulled back into a braid and his coal-black eyes peered at the crowd with a calculating look. “Fuck,” Mal muttered under his breath. I did a double take, never having really heard Malcolm cuss before. “Good fighter, I take it?” “The guy's bones are made of steel. Literally. Milo’s going to shatter his damn hand.” On the other side, the doors opened again. <<if $miloro == "true">>My heart stopped.<</if>> [[Next|Milo Entrance]] Milo came walking out in a pair of low slung trousers, the v of his hips carved out against his rigid stomach. Each suspender was down around his thighs, like he hadn’t even bothered to change for the fight but had instead just shed his shirt. He had the same combat boots on he always wore, one of the laces undone. As my eyes traveled up his body, I watched as he ducked under the velvet ropes, cracking his knuckles out in front of him. He had a smile on his face as he sized up his opponent. It was his eyes that I noticed though. They shone bright amber, like a lantern burned within. The whites of his teeth flashed as he looked at the man before him. “This it?” he called out to no one in particular. “This all you got for me tonight? The doorman’s brother?” “Name Steal Bones,” the man growled. “And I’m coming to bend yours.” “Aw, Steal Bones,” Milo drawled, his smile easy and honey sweet. “I want you to, my man. I really do. But I got a bit of a problem with that?” “Oh yeah?” The bell ringed and Milo flashed across the floor quicker than anyone could track him, kicking at the man's knees and sending him down. Grabbing him by the hair, Milo pulled him back, grinning at him. “I don’t lose,” he said. He slammed the man's face into the floor and around us, the crowd went wild. Milo was far faster than I had ever seen him and as his competition rose up, barreling towards him, Milo ducked and weaved. His laughter was manic as it filled the air, clearly taunting his opponent as he struck out, giving him nothing more than a few teasing slaps. “Stop fucking playing and end it before you mess up,” Malcolm muttered. I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes, watching the way he had his arms crossed in front of himself, watching the fight with deep concentration. When Milo moved in for another slap I could see the way the sweat was pouring down his back, gathering in the dimples right above his waist band. He almost got hit but managed to weave out of the way, looking at the crowd instead. Arms in the air as he coaxed them to cheer. He was performing through and through. Putting on a show and earning his pay. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Not exactly at least. But as he came around to the side that Malcolm and I were, a few people had stepped out of the way. In an effort to get a closer look, I stepped forward. Just an inch. I could see the second that he noticed me. His smile fell from his face, along with the character he was playing. He stood stock still as the world around him no longer mattered, his eyes locking with my own. So when the punch came, he never saw it. A coiled fist pounded into his jaw sending his head snapping to the side and suddenly the entire world sped up again. Milo didn’t go down, but instead stumbled. When he looked up, he avoided me but looked at the man with suddenly a much different tune. This was no longer a game. He was trapped. And Milo didn’t do well when he was trapped. Nor when the walls were closing in on him. Spitting blood onto the ground, he wiped it from his lips. He rushed the man then, his fists no longer teasing as they connected with specific points with the man's torso and solar plexus, grappling himself free when the man's arms banded around him. I could hear the way his opponent's fists connected with Milo’s ribs and saw the bruising begin to purple his skin. But Milo had been fighting for years. Often for his life. This man was not going to get the best of him. Not now. He had him in on the ground soon after, the entire lower floor shaking with the force of his take down. Milo place a boot on his chest, raised it and slammed it down once, making sure the big guy was not about to get back up. The crowd began to go wild, the man making bets before, rushing into the ring, his box of money clanging at his waist. “And who will fight him next?” he began to shout. “Come on, let’s see it. Milo Next taking down the Great Barrier of Steal! Someone must avenge him.” Milo shook his head, his stomach concave as he breathed in harshly. The crowd was rabid, screaming at the tops of their lungs. Their fists pumping in the air. “Nah. I’m done,” Milo said. “Gather your money.” [[Wait until this ends but make sure he doesn’t leave]] [[Malcolm, fight him. Don’t let him get away]] [[I’ll fight him]] I leaned towards Malcolm a little, keeping my voice low. “We’ll wait for this to all be done but I don’t want to let him leave. Do you know if there are any back doors in his dressing room.” “One,” Malcolm said. “It leads to a short alley out back. You can access that alley by going through that door over there. I would cut him off over there.” “Can you drive him through?” “Yup.” Without another word, Malcolm stepped through the crowd, maneuvering in a way that drew Milo’s eyes elsewhere. Meanwhile, I disappeared into the crowd, finding the solid metal door and slipping through. The dressing room I stepped in was small and had only a single flame from a candle. It looked unattended for the evening. Other than a small table for someone to put their personal items, there was only a single door. One that I assumed led out to the alley. I pressed my ear against it, listening for movement on the other side. When I heard the squeak of a door, I opened my own, stepping through. Milo was running his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands with white knuckles. Blood smeared across his chin and I could see some stitching on his side along with a few bruises. “Fuck,” he muttered, breathing deeply. The door clicked shut behind me. At the sound, his back straightened and he turned to face me. “You actually here?” he asked, voice rough. I could see shadows from the room he came from as Malcolm stepped in, blocking Milo’s retreat. “Yeah,” I said. “I am.” He nodded. “Right. Okay.” His fingers reached into his pocket, pulling a cigarette from the depths. When he brought out his lighter, however, the flame wouldn’t ignite. His hands shook too hard to produce anything. Looking at the thing like it betrayed him, he shoved it back in his pocket, cigarette still between his lips. “What are you doing here?” “Are you serious right now?” Malcolm intoned from the doorway, stepping out into the false light of the alley. Milo turned narrowed eyes to him but said nothing in response. [[Is that all you have to say to me?]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Fuck you, Milo]]<<elseif $mc == "firm">>[[Fuck you, Milo]]<</if>> [[We need to talk]] <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I wanted to see you]]<</if>>“Malcolm, fight him. Don’t let him get away.” Malcolm looked at me with a raised brow, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He opened his mouth to respond but the crowd did it for him. As they began chanting his name, people who had known him from before walked up, patting him on the back. My eyes ticked towards Milo’s. He stood in the middle of the ring, staring at the two of us, blood smeared across his chin. “I’m not gonna fight him, Lamplight,” Malcolm said. Despite the cacophony around them, Milo still heard it. “What’s wrong, Mal? Haven’t you been frothing at the mouth to protect your //Lamplight//? Anything to save ?them, right?” He spread his arms wide. “Well come on, sugar. What are you waitin’ for?” Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Milo over his shoulder. “Alright, Milo,” he said slowly. “You wanted this.” Glancing at me, he made sure I was okay before stepping into the ring. Milo had on his shit eating grin. The one that was meant to hide his anger. “You gonna hit me, Mal?” Milo said, hopping back and forth from foot to foot. Malcolm didn’t say a word as he bull rushed Milo. When comparing the two, Malcolm had more muscle packed onto him. A form that was strong and carefully taken care of. Milo was wirey. He could slip away easily. But he had not been expecting the rush that Malcolm brought as he ran at him, catching him around the waist by his shoulder. I heard Milo grunt as they two of them fell to the floor, beginning to tussle. Milo began lashing out, several punches hitting Malcolm in the chest and stomach. None of them seeming to bother the shorter man. They grappled together, any finesse completely dissipating as they got back to their feet. Milo’s punches were much more wild and sloppy while Mal ducked them all with ease. I didn’t see how the fight was going to end or even either of them really would want it to. But as Malcolm wrapped an arm around Milo’s neck, pulling the man close, I saw him whisper something in Milo’s ear. Milo shoved him as hard as he could, sending Malcolm to the floor. But Milo was the one who bent down and tapped out. Ending the fight and forfeiting his lead. The crowd went wild around us, money starting to exchange hands. Meanwhile, Milo slipped through the back door. [[Check on Malcolm]] [[Run after Milo. Don't let him leave]] “I’ll do it.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think. I didn’t look at Malcolm as I stepped forward. Instead, I ducked under the velvet rope, not noticing the way the crowd was cheering around me or how the man with the box moved forward to gather his bets. Milo stood not even a few feet from me, his eyes not leaving my face. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said softly. To drive his point home, he put his hands in the air. Then, turning back on that smile, he looked at the rest of the crowd. “Im not fighting ?them,” he shouted. “Done for the night, my friends!” There was a general air of disagreement as the crowd began to boo. I stepped towards Milo, not letting his feet carry him away from me. [[If I let you walk are you going to run?]] [[Why won’t you fight me?]] [[I don’t think you get a choice in this]]“If I let you walk, are you going to run?” I asked him. <<if $mc == "angry">>“Because from what it sounds like, that’s all you’ve been doing. Running.” <<elseif $mc == "caring">>"You never needed to run, Milo. There are so many people that can and will help you. You just need to hold out your hand."<<elseif $mc == "firm">>"Running is not the answer, anymore. It never was."<</if>> “I’ve been cleaning up my mess,” he said. I looked around. “In a Fight Club.” Hands still raised, he shook his head slowly. “I’m not fighting you.” “Then I suggest you tap out.” <<if $mc == "firm">>I tipped my head to him, geasturng to the crowd around us. "What's more important? Your reputation or me?"<</if>> “Fine. I tap,” he said immediately, crouching down to smack the ground. “I’m out.” Turning, he went to make his way through the crowd and back through to his dressing room. <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Punch him]]<<elseif $mc == "firm">>[[Punch him]]<</if>> [[Run after Milo. Don't let him leave]]<<if $mc == "angry">>There was a small bubble of rage that was welling deep within me. The moral high ground he was taking left me feeling shaky. Like my entire being was on fire. “Why won’t you fight me?” I asked. “Because,” he said. “It’s childish and ridiculous. I’m not going to fucking hit you.” “It’s not like you haven’t done worse.” A flash of something crossed his eyes but he hid it behind a gritted jaw. His hands remained where I could see them, up in a sign of surrender. “It’s not happening,” he said evenly. “You can’t goad me into this.” <<elseif $mc == "caring">>Hearing the way he refused to fight me only solidified what I already knew. I hadn't stepped into the ring with him to goad him into a fight or to seak revenge. I had just wanted to know that he didn't feel the same way. The look of horror that crossed his face clearly said he'd rather lay down and take a beating himself, then hit me even once. But still, I wanted to hear it. "Why won't you fight me?" "You can't be serious," he said, eyes wild. "I don't fucking hit people I care about." It was a slip up. I could see it on his face. One he quickly tried to cover. "This isn't happening," he said, hands still in the air. <<elseif $mc == "firm">>I had wondered just what he would do when I stepped into the ring. Confronting him in that way that always backed him into a corner. No longer was I some naive doe eyed innocent that he had summoned here. And he very well knew it. "Why won't you fight me?" "You can't be serious," he said, eyes wild. "I don't fucking hit people I care about." It was a slip up. I could see it on his face. One he quickly tried to cover. "This isn't happening," he said, hands still in the air.<</if>>\ “Then I suggest you tap out.” <<if $mc == "firm">>I tipped my head to him, geasturng to the crowd around us. "What's more important? Your reputation or me?"<</if>> “Fine. I tap,” he said immediately, crouching down to smack the ground. “I’m out.” Turning, he went to make his way through the crowd and back through to his dressing room. <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Punch him]]<<elseif $mc == "firm">>[[Punch him]]<</if>> [[Run after Milo. Don't let him leave]]“I don’t think you get a choice with this one,” I told him, stepping closer. Behind us, the bell rang, signaling the start of the round. “What’s the rules? We hit each other until the other taps out?” <<if $mc == "angry">> I was hoping he would throw the first punch. Prove to me that he was the villian I wanted him to be.<<elseif $mc == "caring">>It was a test. Because despite everything, I still had to wonder. Had that night been out of malice or obligation.<</if>> Milo was looking at me incredulously. “I’m not hitting you,” he said. “Then I suggest you tap out.” <<if $mc == "firm">>I tipped my head to him, geasturng to the crowd around us. "What's more important? Your reputation or me?"<</if>> “Fine. I tap,” he said immediately, crouching down to smack the ground. “I’m out.” Turning, he went to make his way through the crowd and back through to his dressing room. <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Punch him]]<<elseif $mc == "firm">>[[Punch him]]<</if>> [[Run after Milo. Don't let him leave]] I ran to keep up with him. Every single ounce of emotion that I had felt since coming to the Night Market. Since falling towards nothingness at the ball. Each speck of it came roaring to life within me. Like a flame that was consuming. That built and built and built until there was nothing left that fear and confusion. Anger and envy. The sins of some distant god lived inside me and I could think of no way to get them out other than to walk forward and violently expel them from my body as if they were a sickness that had to be purged. “You don’t get to walk away,” I growled. Raising my fist it came down, striking him across the jaw as he turned just right. The second it did, pain exploded across my own jaw and the tang of blood filled my mouth. Milo looked at me, blood dripping from his split lip. A mirror of which dripped from my own. Malcolm’s grip was suddenly on my arm as he walked forward, lashing out to Milo as well. He gave neither of us an option as he shoved us into the dressing room. Milo stumbled but he was at least marginally gentler with me. But as I righted myself, the door slamming shut and locking us into the room, I could see the anger in his eyes. “No,” he said, voice edging on rage. “You two are not going to solve this by beating the shit out of each other. I don’t care what the fuck happened, this is not and will never be the answer.” “I didn’t want to fight ?them,” Milo yelled. [[Coward]] [[And I didn’t want to die!]] [[I don’t know what just came over me]]“Coward,” I spat at him. “Yeah, alright, darlin’. We’ll do this,” he sneered. “Knock it off,” Malcolm looked between the two of us. “$name, I did not bring you here for this. We have a problem. You want to beat the shit out of him, then you can do it on your own time.” I raised a brow towards him. “I’m sorry, not all of us have gotten five months to come to terms with what he’s done.” Malcolm crossed his arms in front of him, leaning against the door as if to prevent our way out. “You think you’re the only one he’s hurt? Get in line.” “Okay, hi,” Milo sputtered. “Really? What the hell is this right now? Why are you two even here?” Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. Not my burst of anger or the way my knuckles now felt. “We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“And I didn’t want to die!” My shout erupted through the room, coating the walls with the harsh truth. I had wanted to live. To experience life. And it had been cut entirely too short. Milo looked away, fingers twitching at his side. There was a door that led somewhere out back. He could have easily run if he wanted to. But he stood, rocking back and forth on his booted feet. Malcolm’s sigh is what cut through the air. “I know,” he said, his voice not the calm that it was usually but at least coming to the point that he could bring himself down from the dizziness heights the moment had gotten us too. “I know that feeling more than anything. But right now, we need to be able to talk about the gate. That way we can get you home.” “What gate?” Milo asked. “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>> I blinked, feeling my hands shaking at my side. “I don’t know what just came over me,” I said, my head pounding with the rush of emotions. It was as if I couldn’t control it. The things I felt within the moment. They had all been sequestered away, pushed aside in my pursuit to try and find a way home. And they had all come tumbling out at the worst possible moment. “It’s fine,” Milo said, not quite looking at me. “It’s deserved.” “Violence is not something that is ever deserved,” Malcolm intoned. Milo snorted. “Agree to disagree.” The three of us stood there awkwardly, not quite sure how to even proceed from there. The fact that I was even in a room with him at the moment seemed almost unreal. Milo was actually the first to speak. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyes. “Why are you two here?” Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. Not my burst of anger or the way my knuckles now felt. “We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>> I ran to keep up. When the crowd tried to block me I shoved my way through. Milo was able to get through the door before me and I was almost certain that when I reached the door, it would be locked. Giving Milo time to run. Because there was not a world I could contemplate just being able to follow him into the room without a fight. Yet, the doorknob turned under the palm of my hand and when I stepped through, I saw a door to a back alley left wide open. I went to rush after him, skidding to a halt in the alley way when I saw him standing there, leaning against the wall, head tilted back. Rain drizzled down across him, soaking his hair and washing away the blood from the fight. I stepped forward, waiting for him to say something. His hands were loose at his side and from someone that may not know him, he looked relaxed. But I could see it in the way he was breathing. And the way his eyes kept flicking back and forth. “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed, head tipped up to the sky. His adams apple bobbed up and down. [[I'm not sure there is anything you can say]] [[I'm sorry?]] [[You could look at me]] “I’m really not sure there is anything you can say,” I told him in all honesty. I’m sorry felt hollow. A shallow gesture, really. An explanation would have been nice but I had pieced most of it together. An admittance to being wrong, maybe? But even then, was he placating me. “Yeah,” Milo breathed when I said nothing more. “There’s probably not.” Thunder cracked across the sky, lighting it for one brief moment. The stitched fabric of the night sky had been ripped open, flapping at the seams. The world was battered and bruised and had yet to heal. Behind me, the door opened and closed as Malcolm came into the room, stepping quickly into the alleyway. He looked between us. “You want me here with you, Lamplight? Or do you want me to wait inside.” [[Stay here please]] [[Wait inside. I got this]] “An apology would be a good start,” I told him. There was a bitterness that welled from him in an ugly laugh. “Would that matter? What does the words I’m sorry actually do but absolve the offender of guilt?” <<if $mc == "caring">>“I would still appreciate it,” I said quietly. He said nothing for a long moment. “Do you need to hear it?” he whispered. “I need you to mean it.”<<elseif $mc == "angry">>"Not really. No. Just curious if you feel it at all." The fact that he said nothing was probably all the answer I needed. <<elseif $mc == "firm">>"I don't know if it would make a difference. But it would get everything out on the table at least." "I don't think either of us are fooling each other," he told me.<</if>> Thunder cracked across the sky, lighting it for one brief moment. The stitched fabric of the night sky had been ripped open, flapping at the seams. The world was battered and bruised and had yet to heal. Behind me, the door opened and closed as Malcolm came into the room, stepping quickly into the alleyway. He looked between us. “You want me here with you, Lamplight? Or do you want me to wait inside.” [[Stay here please]] [[Wait inside. I got this]] “You could look at me,” I told him. “That would be a start.” It took a minute. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his side as he tapped his fingers against his thighs. But slowly, he let his head drop as he turned to me. His eyes only were able to meet mine for the briefest of moments before they dropped away again. "I can't," he said. Thunder cracked across the sky, lighting it for one brief moment. The stitched fabric of the night sky had been ripped open, flapping at the seams. The world was battered and bruised and had yet to heal. <<if $mc == "caring">>"It's okay," I whispered. "Maybe give it some time."<<elseif $mc == "angry">>"I'm fighting everything in me not to rage at you right now. You can fucking look at me." And yet, he didn't raise his eyes.<<elseif $mc == "firm">>"Right," I said, feeling a bit irritated at his inability to face me.<</if>> Behind me, the door opened and closed as Malcolm came into the room, stepping quickly into the alleyway. He looked between us. “You want me here with you, Lamplight? Or do you want me to wait inside.” [[Stay here please]] [[Wait inside. I got this]] “Stay here. Please?” I asked. “Of course.” <<if $miloro == "true">>The sneer on Milo’s lips was not missed. “Oh, yes. Of course. Anything for Lamplight.”<</if>> “Why don’t you two come inside then,” Malcolm suggested. “It’s raining and its ridiculous for you two to just stand in it.” “I like the rain,” Milo groused. I felt his body stiffen beside me. <<if $miloro == "true">>He liked dancing in the rain. Letting the lanterns fill and tipping his head up to catch rainwater on his tongue.<</if>> Suddenly, he pushed off the wall. “Yeah. Let’s go inside.” “What are you doing here?” he asked me finally. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“Wait inside,” I told him. “I think this s a conversation Milo and I are going to need to have ourselves.” I didn’t know if Malcolm gave Milo any sort of significant look. Not that Milo was lifting his gaze enough to see anything. But I did hear the door shut behind me, leaving Milo and I alone in the alleyway. It wasn’t a dead end. I could see the candles stretching towards a bend in the market and could hear people coming and going from the fight. Milo could have run if he wanted to. All he had to do was slip through those streets and I would have never seen him again. Yet, he was standing here. The silence stretching between us like an ache. <<if $miloro == "true">>“Why didn’t you come to see me?” I asked. “You knew I was back, didn’t you?” “I thought you might be,” he said. “But I actually wasn’t sure. It’s been… there’s been a few times I thought you were back. That I could feel you. It felt different, though. It wasn’t like when Malcolm came back. I wasn’t sure.” “But you didn’t come check?” “I did a few times.” He shifted uncomfortably, the rain sliding down his chest in rivulets. “I came to your… the graveyard. It looked undisturbed.” I nodded. “And what was that out there?” “What do you mean?” “You tapping out. Not facing me.” He looked at me incredulously, the blood from the fight running pink as it mixed with the rain. “You serious? I wasn’t going to fucking hit you. Despite what I’m sure evidence suggests, I don’t want to actually hurt you.” <</if>><<if $miloro == "false">>"So is this what you've been doing? Just beating the crap out of people to pass the time?" "Sure," he said. "You can go with that." "I would like the truth," I told him. "You could try it, you know." There was a bitterness to his smile. It was funny, I could feel it. If I concentrated on it enough, I felt it wash over me like jagged stone. "Why'd you tap out?" I finally asked. "Are we really doing this again?" "Yes. Why'd you tap out in the ring? Humor me." He looked at me incredulously, the blood from the fight running pink as it mixed with the rain. “You serious? I wasn’t going to fucking hit you. Despite what I’m sure evidence suggests, I don’t want to actually hurt you.”<</if>> <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Could have fooled me]]<</if>> [[I think you struggle to know what that even means]] [[It's going to take some time to come to terms with that]] <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I know. I just needed to hear you say it too]]<</if>>“Could have fooled me,” I muttered. It was petty but it spoke to the raw nerve I felt each time I looked at him. He shrugged past me and inside the dressing room where Malcolm was waiting. He went for his disgaurded keys first, fiddling with the bits of metal. <<if $miloro == "true">> An old habbit I remembered well.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me, not looking up. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“I think you struggle to know what that even means,” I told him. Milo was reactionary. I doubted there was a lot of thought going into his actions. He shrugged past me and inside the dressing room where Malcolm was waiting. He went for his disgaurded keys first, fiddling with the bits of metal. <<if $miloro == "true">> An old habbit I remembered well.<</if>> "What are you doing here?" he aske me. "You could have just sent Mal to come get to me if it was so important." “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“I know,” I told him. “But I needed to hear you say it, too.” I watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. Putting the cigarette to his lips, he tried to light it, the flame flickering out the second it appeared. The rain for some reason seemed heavier with each flick of his wrist. Sighing, he shoved it back into his pocket shakily. “You should probably get a shirt back on,” I told him. The bruises were already started to swell, purpling his abdomen. He didn’t look like he was eating. And Milo was someone I didn’t feel like could miss a meal to begin with. He shrugged past me and inside the dressing room where Malcolm was waiting. He went for his disgaurded keys first, fiddling with the bits of metal. <<if $miloro == "true">> An old habbit I remembered well.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me, not looking up. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>> We both winced at his words. “Probably not the best choice of words with me,” I told him. He took a step back, running his fingers through his hair and pushing the water away. “Your grave was untampered,” he said. “So was your clock. But I can go check out the gate thing." “Sure you don’t want to go and beat the shit out of men bigger than you first?” Mal asked. “There’s time for that later.” He stepped by me again, a caged animal just looking for a way out. It was on instinct that I tried to grab him. Not wanting him to get away. But my fingers passed through him. He froze, looking down to where my hand was on the other side of his arm. My breath whooshed out of me, falling frozen to the floor as I tried to move my fingers back over him. Nothing. They disipated like smoke. Only a faint trace of gold hovering in its wake. “You’re not actually here?” Milo asked in confusion. Then, he shook his head. "Sorry. Yeah. We went over this. Just-- you looked so real." “I am.” “That says you’re not,” he said, gesturing to where I passed through him. “I can touch Malcolm,” I told him. <<if $miloro == "true">> He startled at that, something crossing his face. Surprise and something like shame.<</if>> “What else can you touch?” “Items. Doors. I can walk around and–” I looked at my own hand, confused. “Have you touched anyone else since being back?” “Victor Frankenstein. At his lab. He drew blood from me. Or energy or something.” “Doesn’t count. Doc Frankenstein is an anomaly and has also altered himself to work with the dead.” Turning, he addressed Malcolm with an air of indifference. “Malcolm, you’ve seen this gate thing?” “I have.” Malcolm was leaning against the door to the fight club, not letting anyone in. Milo pulled the shirt over his head. It was a dark blue. A far cry from the cream shirt that he wore mostly unbuttoned. “It an actual gate?” Milo asked, tucking in the tails of his shirt. “Looks like it.” “That’s impossible.” Malcolm didn’t rise to the bite in Milo’s words. “Then why even ask what I thought.” “?They can’t touch me,” Milo said, ignoring Malcolm. Malcolm raised a brow. “Surprised ?they even tried.” I moved to stand between the two of them. “Why can I touch you but not him?” I wondered just how far that little caveat reached. “Maybe because Milo’s undeserving? The Night Market works in mysterious ways,” Malcolm said with a smirk. His eyes were trained upon Milo, making sure the man knew that it was a pointed dig. Pulling each suspender up across his shoulders, Milo addressed more of the room than either Malcolm or I. "What I'm saying is, that it can't possibly be a gate down at that grave. Because if it was a gate, one, someone out there has access to the construct that was burried. Which is impossible. But given that $name can't touch me, I'm going to say that that construct has been compromised all together." "There's no body in the grave," I told him. "Fuck," he muttered, grabbing the rest of his things. “I'd say I'd go and deal with this on my own but its doubtful either of you will be on board for that. So I'll meet you two there." “You got somewhere to be?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah. The graveyard. But I can’t travel the normal routes like the two of you.” “Why not?” I asked. Milo’s eyes flickered to me, his voice not as edged as it was with Malcolm. “Gatekeeper is a coveted job,” he said. “Why do you think so many people show up to fight me?” [[That’s stupid of you to put yourself in that position]] [[Are they trying to kill you in the streets?]] [[Then you shouldn't be traveling alone]] Laughter erupted from my throat. “Trust you? Really?” He took a step back, running his fingers through his hair in a nervous tick. “Your grave was untampered,” he said. “So was your clock. But I can go check out the gate thing." “Sure you don’t want to go and beat the shit out of men bigger than you first?” Mal asked. “There’s time for that later.” He stepped by me again, a caged animal just looking for a way out. It was on instinct that I tried to grab him. Not wanting him to get away. But my fingers passed through him. He froze, looking down to where my hand was on the other side of his arm. My breath whooshed out of me, falling frozen to the floor as I tried to move my fingers back over him. Nothing. They disipated like smoke. Only a faint trace of gold hovering in its wake. “You’re not actually here?” Milo asked in confusion. Then, he shook his head. "Sorry. Yeah. We went over this. Just-- you looked so real." “I am.” “That says you’re not,” he said, gesturing to where I passed through him. “I can touch Malcolm,” I told him. <<if $miloro == "true">> He startled at that, something crossing his face. Surprise and something like shame.<</if>> “What else can you touch?” “Items. Doors. I can walk around and–” I looked at my own hand, confused. “Have you touched anyone else since being back?” “Victor Frankenstein. At his lab. He drew blood from me. Or energy or something.” “Doesn’t count. Doc Frankenstein is an anomaly and has also altered himself to work with the dead.” Turning, he addressed Malcolm with an air of indifference. “Malcolm, you’ve seen this gate thing?” “I have.” Malcolm was leaning against the door to the fight club, not letting anyone in. Milo pulled the shirt over his head. It was a dark blue. A far cry from the cream shirt that he wore mostly unbuttoned. “It an actual gate?” Milo asked, tucking in the tails of his shirt. “Looks like it.” “That’s impossible.” Malcolm didn’t rise to the bite in Milo’s words. “Then why even ask what I thought.” “?They can’t touch me,” Milo said, ignoring Malcolm. Malcolm raised a brow. “Surprised ?they even tried.” I moved to stand between the two of them. “Why can I touch you but not him?” I wondered just how far that little caveat reached. “Maybe because Milo’s undeserving? The Night Market works in mysterious ways,” Malcolm said with a smirk. His eyes were trained upon Milo, making sure the man knew that it was a pointed dig. Pulling each suspender up across his shoulders, Milo addressed more of the room than either Malcolm or I. "What I'm saying is, that it can't possibly be a gate down at that grave. Because if it was a gate, one, someone out there has access to the construct that was burried. Which is impossible. But given that $name can't touch me, I'm going to say that that construct has been compromised all together." "There's no body in the grave," I told him. "Fuck," he muttered, grabbing the rest of his things. “I'd say I'd go and deal with this on my own but its doubtful either of you will be on board for that. So I'll meet you two there." “You got somewhere to be?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah. The graveyard. But I can’t travel the normal routes like the two of you.” “Why not?” I asked. Milo’s eyes flickered to me, his voice not as edged as it was with Malcolm. “Gatekeeper is a coveted job,” he said. “Why do you think so many people show up to fight me?” [[That’s stupid of you to put yourself in that position]] [[Are they trying to kill you in the streets?]] [[Then you shouldn't be traveling alone]] “No,” I answered immediately, leaving not room to interpret just exactly where he stood with me. He took a step back, running his fingers through his hair and pushing the water away. “Your grave was untampered,” he said. “So was your clock. But I can go check out the gate thing." “Sure you don’t want to go and beat the shit out of men bigger than you first?” Mal asked. “There’s time for that later.” He stepped by me again, a caged animal just looking for a way out. It was on instinct that I tried to grab him. Not wanting him to get away. But my fingers passed through him. He froze, looking down to where my hand was on the other side of his arm. My breath whooshed out of me, falling frozen to the floor as I tried to move my fingers back over him. Nothing. They disipated like smoke. Only a faint trace of gold hovering in its wake. “You’re not actually here?” Milo asked in confusion. Then, he shook his head. "Sorry. Yeah. We went over this. Just-- you looked so real." “I am.” “That says you’re not,” he said, gesturing to where I passed through him. “I can touch Malcolm,” I told him. <<if $miloro == "true">> He startled at that, something crossing his face. Surprise and something like shame.<</if>> “What else can you touch?” “Items. Doors. I can walk around and–” I looked at my own hand, confused. “Have you touched anyone else since being back?” “Victor Frankenstein. At his lab. He drew blood from me. Or energy or something.” “Doesn’t count. Doc Frankenstein is an anomaly and has also altered himself to work with the dead.” Turning, he addressed Malcolm with an air of indifference. “Malcolm, you’ve seen this gate thing?” “I have.” Malcolm was leaning against the door to the fight club, not letting anyone in. Milo pulled the shirt over his head. It was a dark blue. A far cry from the cream shirt that he wore mostly unbuttoned. “It an actual gate?” Milo asked, tucking in the tails of his shirt. “Looks like it.” “That’s impossible.” Malcolm didn’t rise to the bite in Milo’s words. “Then why even ask what I thought.” “?They can’t touch me,” Milo said, ignoring Malcolm. Malcolm raised a brow. “Surprised ?they even tried.” I moved to stand between the two of them. “Why can I touch you but not him?” I wondered just how far that little caveat reached. “Maybe because Milo’s undeserving? The Night Market works in mysterious ways,” Malcolm said with a smirk. His eyes were trained upon Milo, making sure the man knew that it was a pointed dig. Pulling each suspender up across his shoulders, Milo addressed more of the room than either Malcolm or I. "What I'm saying is, that it can't possibly be a gate down at that grave. Because if it was a gate, one, someone out there has access to the construct that was burried. Which is impossible. But given that $name can't touch me, I'm going to say that that construct has been compromised all together." "There's no body in the grave," I told him. "Fuck," he muttered, grabbing the rest of his things. “I'd say I'd go and deal with this on my own but its doubtful either of you will be on board for that. So I'll meet you two there." “You got somewhere to be?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah. The graveyard. But I can’t travel the normal routes like the two of you.” “Why not?” I asked. Milo’s eyes flickered to me, his voice not as edged as it was with Malcolm. “Gatekeeper is a coveted job,” he said. “Why do you think so many people show up to fight me?” [[That’s stupid of you to put yourself in that position]] [[Are they trying to kill you in the streets?]] [[Then you shouldn't be traveling alone]] “And you put yourself out there for them?” “What can I say? I love self-destructive tendencies,” he snarked. I just shook my head. “That’s incredibly stupid of you to do. Putting yourself in that position is more than self-destructive. You’re a Gatekeeper. You trust any of them out there with me?” His eyes flicked to the side. No. He did not. I could feel it. Milo shrugged, grabbing a jacket and slipping his arms through. “I’ll meet you there,” he said again. “Nice try, but no,” Malcolm said. “You slip away far too easily.” “This is my job, Malcolm. It’s not like I’m going to shirk my responsibilities.” Malcolm looked as if he wanted to counter back, snap back at Milo about the definition of responsibilities. But this wasn’t about him and the time for their own differences was not now. Instead, he turned to me. “Your call, $name. I don’t think we should let him go walking off on his own but I’m not going to dictate all this. What do you want to do here?” [[He can follow us. We’ll deal with whatever comes]] [[Let’s see how he does. Let him go]] “Are they blatantly trying to kill you in the streets?” I asked. The Gatekeeper had always been a secretive role. It held far too much power. But if the identity of the Gatekeeper was out, then there was no telling how many people would see Milo as an opportunity. Milo shrugged, grabbing a jacket and slipping his arms through. “I’ll meet you there,” he said again. “Nice try, but no,” Malcolm said. “You slip away far too easily.” “This is my job, Malcolm. It’s not like I’m going to shirk my responsibilities.” Malcolm looked as if he wanted to counter back, snap back at Milo about the definition of responsibilities. But this wasn’t about him and the time for their own differences was not now. Instead, he turned to me. “Your call, $name. I don’t think we should let him go walking off on his own but I’m not going to dictate all this. What do you want to do here?” [[He can follow us. We’ll deal with whatever comes]] [[Let’s see how he does. Let him go]] “He can follow us,” I declared. I turned my attention to Milo. The space between us was wide and gaping and there were moments that I didn’t feel it was enough. “We’ll deal with whatever comes our way.” “I don’t know if that’s a great idea,” Milo said. I tilted my head to the side. “Great ideas are not your strong suit,” I told him. “So let’s try my way this time around.” I saw his jaw twitch and on the other side of me, I saw Malcolm smile. No one was going to argue with me. “Let’s go,” I told the two of them. Both Gatekeepers followed. [[Chapter Three]]“No, let him go,” I said, still staring at Milo. “This is going to be a good test. Because if he doesn’t show up, we know where we stand with him.” I didn’t break eye contact with Milo. The flames that had diminished in the lanterns above were reflected in his eyes now, swimming at me as two beacons of a home that was my own. A piece of me was held there, whether either of us liked it or not. “We’ll see you at my grave,” I told him. Nodding, he ducked his head, pushing his hands in his pockets. He walked out of the room before us, into the alleyway he had been escaping through. Silence was left in his wake after the door shut. Only the low murmur of the fight club on the other side of the walls greeting us. “Bastard.” I turned to look at Malcolm. He was staring at the door, jaw flexing and tight. If he didn’t follow through, then I supposed we all knew where we stood. If Milo didn’t step foot in that graveyard, then he was drawing the line between us himself. I didn’t know if I was hoping he’d show or if I was ready for him not to. As I walked out the back door to head to the graveyard, I looked over my shoulder at Malcolm. “Let’s just see what he does,” I told him. <<if $miloro == "true">>Malcolm stared at my retreating form but I still heard what he said. “It’s Milo. He’ll break our heart.” <<elseif $miloro== "false">>”Yeah,” Malcolm agreed. “Let’s see what he does.” The tightness in his tone indicated he was running on thin patience. I couldn’t blame him.<</if>> [[Chapter Three|No Milo start]]“Is the apartment down the way not enough?” I asked, gesturing to the building that I knew had not been there before. I had created that. Unconsciously but it was still done by me. Sawyer looked down the way, tipping his head to the side, so the silk of his hair fell and nearly touched the ground. “I guess that’s impressive,” he said begrudgingly. “Oh, alright. It’s impressive. Incredibly impressive. I want to be able to make full buildings as well.” When he turned towards me, he placed his hands on his hips and gave me a dramatic sashay of his hips. “What kind of entity are you then? Other than just the Night Market.” He put the words Night Market in quotations. “And before you answer, clear your head. Don’t think. Just go with your gut.” [[I am a being of safety]] [[I am a being of holding]] [[I am a being of secrecy]]“Like what?” I asked. “How about fireworks? Or a scrumptious little bushel of berries. Or a very big man that will sweep me off my feet.” He held up his hands, ducking his head. “So sorry. A woman would work as well. I am not choosy.” “I don’t think I can just create people,” I told him with a raised brow. “That’s not quite how it works.” But, there was perhaps something else I could do. Closing my eyes, I focused on the green gas lanterns around me, wondering if I could manipulate them at all. Slowly, the world around me became warmer, the green stretching across the streets. I could see it all within my mind's eye. When I opened my eyes, I saw the way the light filtered through the alleyway. “Very pretty,” Sawyer clapped. “Love the light play.” Staring, I stared at the fire bulb, watching it flicker brighter and brighter. “I mean, it isn’t creation,” Sawyer said. “Destruction, actually. In fact, most of your stuff seems to be in destruction. You aren’t much of an earth mama entity, huh?” “Not really.” “What kind of entity are you then? Other than just the Night Market.” He put the words Night Market in quotations. “And before you answer, clear your head. Don’t think. Just go with your gut.” [[I am a being of safety]] [[I am a being of holding]] [[I am a being of secrecy]]“I can’t just snap my fingers and create something.” “Have you tried?” With a sigh, I raised my hand, ready to snap my fingers for this man. If only to prove to him that it didn’t really worklike that. When my fingers clicked together though, the green gas lantern behind me flickered out. Turning, I stared at the now broken fire bulb. “I mean, it isn’t creation,” Sawyer said. “Destruction, actually. In fact, most of your stuff seems to be in destruction. You aren’t much of an earth mama entity, huh?” “Not really.” “What kind of entity are you then? Other than just the Night Market.” He put the words Night Market in quotations. “And before you answer, clear your head. Don’t think. Just go with your gut.” [[I am a being of safety]] [[I am a being of holding]] [[I am a being of secrecy]]“I am a being of safety.” The words solidified with a crack, making the world around me seem a little bit bright. It was still cast in the strange green but it felt like the world was more solid. Like I was more solid. “Oh,” Sawyer cooed. “I do like that. The savior of all kind. The one who accepts the ruffians and the down trodden. You’ll amass an army with that kind of thinking.” I had never really thought of it that way. But I held everyone within the Night Market. I took them in when their worlds were dying. I gave them a home. The very idea held so much power. “Now, will you please just come inside, little safety net. I think Kimber is going to throw herself from her biggest chair if she does not get to feed you soon.” Glancing inside the bakery, I could see Kimber craning her head over the back counter, looking at the two of us. She ducked down beneath the display case as I turned her way, pretending to clean the glass. Laughing a little, I nodded. “Alright. That’s fair.” As we walked inside, Kimber popped up from behind the counter. “Hello and welcome. Pie?” She had several pieces gathered on a plate and it looked like she was gathering even more. “Oh, and Iblis is under the table,” she said, giving Sawyer a pointed look. Sawyer did a double take. “Iblis! You cannot keep running off like that.” Beneath the table a little boy crouched, his dark black hair wild around his face and his teeth jagged and snapping. The little boy grabbed at Sawyers ankles as he walked over, rolling to and fro in a peal of giggles. Blocks were scattered around him, bouncing across the bakery floor. “No. No block throwing today, Mr. It is bath time. You haven’t taken one since the dawn of time and your clothes are starting to become stiff with crust.” “Oh, Sawyer, I promised he could share some of the pie,” she proclaimed. She was now coming around the display counter, the weight of a platter making her sway. Sawyer rushed over, taking the platter. “A Kimber original, I see.” “Several in fact. I thought I would call Turner down and see if he’s eaten.” “Pish. Leave that boy to his clocks” Sawyer said. Then, holding out the platter to me. “Pie?” [[I’m getting concerned with the emphasis on pie]] [[You’re all a really friendly bunch]] [[Is Iblis your son?]] “I am a being of holding,” I said. The words solidified with a crack, making the world around me seem a little bit bright. It was still cast in the strange green but it felt like the world was more solid. Like I was more solid. “Oh,” Sawyer cooed. “I do like that. There’s a dependable structure about you. Holding everyone's souls in the palm of your hand. Such a dangerous little concept that one is.” I had never really thought of it that way. But I held everyone's memories. I was the keeper of their thoughts and their dreams. I was the person who took in the lost and gave them a home. The very idea held so much power. “Now, will you please just come inside, little container. I think Kimber is going to throw herself from her biggest chair if she does not get to feed you soon.” Glancing inside the bakery, I could see Kimber craning her head over the back counter, looking at the two of us. She ducked down beneath the display case as I turned her way, pretending to clean the glass. Laughing a little, I nodded. “Alright. That’s fair.” As we walked inside, Kimber popped up from behind the counter. “Hello and welcome. Pie?” She had several pieces gathered on a plate and it looked like she was gathering even more. “Oh, and Iblis is under the table,” she said, giving Sawyer a pointed look. Sawyer did a double take. “Iblis! You cannot keep running off like that.” Beneath the table a little boy crouched, his dark black hair wild around his face and his teeth jagged and snapping. The little boy grabbed at Sawyers ankles as he walked over, rolling to and fro in a peal of giggles. Blocks were scattered around him, bouncing across the bakery floor. “No. No block throwing today, Mr. It is bath time. You haven’t taken one since the dawn of time and your clothes are starting to become stiff with crust.” “Oh, Sawyer, I promised he could share some of the pie,” she proclaimed. She was now coming around the display counter, the weight of a platter making her sway. Sawyer rushed over, taking the platter. “A Kimber original, I see.” “Several in fact. I thought I would call Turner down and see if he’s eaten.” “Pish. Leave that boy to his clocks” Sawyer said. Then, holding out the platter to me. “Pie?” [[I’m getting concerned with the emphasis on pie]] [[You’re all a really friendly bunch]] [[Is Iblis your son?]] “I am a being of secrecy,” I said. The words solidified with a crack, making the world around me seem a little bit bright. It was still cast in the strange green but it felt like the world was more solid. Like I was more solid. “Oh,” Sawyer cooed. “I do like that. Very much a roguish intrigue about you. The holder of everyone's secrets including your own. Such a dangerous little concept that one is.” I had never really thought of it that way. But I held everyone's memories. I was the keeper of their thoughts and their dreams. Their nightmares. I cupped them all close and claimed them as mine. The very idea held so much power. “Now, will you please just come inside, little secret keeper. I think Kimber is going to throw herself from her biggest chair if she does not get to feed you soon.” Glancing inside the bakery, I could see Kimber craning her head over the back counter, looking at the two of us. She ducked down beneath the display case as I turned her way, pretending to clean the glass. Laughing a little, I nodded. “Alright. That’s fair.” As we walked inside, Kimber popped up from behind the counter. “Hello and welcome. Pie?” She had several pieces gathered on a plate and it looked like she was gathering even more. “Oh, and Iblis is under the table,” she said, giving Sawyer a pointed look. Sawyer did a double take. “Iblis! You cannot keep running off like that.” Beneath the table a little boy crouched, his dark black hair wild around his face and his teeth jagged and snapping. The little boy grabbed at Sawyers ankles as he walked over, rolling to and fro in a peal of giggles. Blocks were scattered around him, bouncing across the bakery floor. “No. No block throwing today, Mr. It is bath time. You haven’t taken one since the dawn of time and your clothes are starting to become stiff with crust.” “Oh, Sawyer, I promised he could share some of the pie,” she proclaimed. She was now coming around the display counter, the weight of a platter making her sway. Sawyer rushed over, taking the platter. “A Kimber original, I see.” “Several in fact. I thought I would call Turner down and see if he’s eaten.” “Pish. Leave that boy to his clocks” Sawyer said. Then, holding out the platter to me. “Pie?” [[I’m getting concerned with the emphasis on pie]] [[You’re all a really friendly bunch]] [[Is Iblis your son?]] “How often have you ended up seeing him since I’ve been gone?” I asked. There was a part of me that wondered if they had slipped back into old patterns. If they were together again. It was certainly what everyone wished to imply. And Malcolm certainly looked uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “A few. Never long. He’s easy to track down now that I got his pattern.” “He’s never come to you?” I assumed Malcolm would have been the first person he ran to. Hazel soon after for her compassion. We turned a corner, plunging us even further into darkness. “No.” I could see the tightness on his face. The subject of Milo was a touchy one for him. “Look, I’m not sure what we’ll walk into tonight. But I am not of the mind set that we should give him a heads-up.” “Does he know I’m back?” “He’s the Gatekeeper,” he said bitterly. “How can he not?” “So you think he’s stayed away on purpose.” Malcolm sighed. “I don’t know, Lamplight. I don’t know what he’s thinking anymore. He won’t talk to me. He won’t come to anyone. He hasn’t seen Hazel. He kept himself pretty well hidden these last few months for various reasons.” “A fight club doesn’t sound like he’s in hiding.” Malcolm snorted. “You don’t know what kind of fight club it is.” The road was sloping downwards, the two of us slowing our pace so as not to fall in the dark. I could hear sounds bleeding through the walls. [[Are you two back together]] [[How are you doing with all of this?]] [[I don’t know what this means for him and I]]“Is that all you have to say to me?” He tipped his head to the side, cigarette bouncing with each word. “You don’t want to hear anything I have to say. Don’t pretend like you came here to talk. Not to me.” “Milo,” Malcolm started. He ripped the cigarette out of his mouth, pointing it towards Mal. “Stay the fuck out of this. No one asked for you to be here.” “I did,” I said, stepping forward. Milo’s eyes fell to the ground. There was barely any light within the alley. Even the flickering flames of the candles felt as if they were being swallowed by shadows. The living and breathing memories of the past reaching forward and swallowing the mockery of light whole. “This is how you want this to go?” I asked. “This is what you want to start out with?” His eyes lifted to mine. “What would you like me to say? What could I possibly say that would help any of this?” [[I'm not sure there is anything you can say|I'm not sure there is anything you can say 2]] [[I'm sorry?|I'm sorry? 2]]“Fuck you, Milo,” I spat. “After everything, I am here giving you a chance. The least you could do is say something.” “You want me to grovel?” he asked with a raised brow. “Is that where this is going? Because I don’t really feel like getting on my knees tonight. No thanks.” “After what you did? You should be lucky I’m not tossing you out of the entire market.” He laughed, the tip of his cigarette sagging as it broke from the spit on his lips. “Can’t, remember? I’m the one who opens gates, darlin’. Not you.” “Believe me, I’ll figure out a way.” “Enough,” Malcolm said. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.” <<if $mc == "angry">>“I’m not about to have it again,” I said. “I’d rather not see him, if we’re being honest.” “I can go,” Milo stated. “Both of you, knock it off. You two may not like each other. You may not have any respect right now. But we got bigger problems.”<<elseif $mc == "firm">>I loathed the fact that Malcolm was right. The conversation between Milo and I needed to happen. But not here. Not now. There were far more pressing matters at hand.<</if>> "Fuck this," he muttered. Shoving past us, he made his way into the dressing room, looking around for his things. He ended up grabbing the key ring he had discarded at the table. “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave," I said without preamble. "Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>> I wasn’t going to rise to his bait. I remembered that about him. How he would goad. The little digs he would give in hopes of someone else losing their temper first. I wasn’t going to be that for him. I refused to give him a reason for any of his behavior. “We need to talk,” I said calmly. “Well, I didn’t think you were here for hugs,” he said, biting at the tip of his cigarette. I ignored him. “Would you like to step inside? It’s cold out here and I can barely see anything.” He looked towards the room he had vacated. A caged animal that was trying to decide what his odds for survival were if he walked back in. But he shoved his hands in his pocket, nonchalant, and walked right in. “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” I walked in, speaking without preamble. It was probably best to just get right to the point. His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>> I dropped down to my knees next to Malcolm, placing my hands on his upper back. “You alright?” He nodded. “He pulled his punches. For the most part. Go after him, though. Don’t let him run.” “Are you sure?” My priority was making sure this man was fine. He had gone down hard but mostly, I was concerned because it was Milo who had done it. “This isn’t our first fight,” Mal said. “Now go.” I ran to keep up with Milo. When the crowd tried to block me I shoved my way through. Milo was able to get through the door before me and I was almost certain that when I reached the door, it would be locked. Giving Milo time to run. Because there was not a world I could contemplate just being able to follow him into the room without a fight. Yet, the doorknob turned under the palm of my hand and when I stepped through, I saw a door to a back alley left wide open. I went to rush after him, skidding to a halt in the alley way when I saw him standing there, leaning against the wall, head tilted back. Rain drizzled down across him, soaking his hair and washing away the blood from the fight. I stepped forward, waiting for him to say something. His hands were loose at his side and from someone that may not know him, he looked relaxed. But I could see it in the way he was breathing. And the way his eyes kept flicking back and forth. “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed, head tipped up to the sky. His adams apple bobbed up and down. [[I'm not sure there is anything you can say]] [[I'm sorry?]] [[You could look at me]] The flames went out with a hiss. Stepping out into the market streets with Milo to my right and Malcolm to my left, I watched as one by one, the candles began to douse. With each boot step they snapped out of existence, leaving behind not even the trace of smoke. “What’s that about?” I asked. Milo had his hands in his pockets and was looking down as we walked. “Concealment.” “Are you doing it?” He nodded. That hadn’t exactly been an ability he had before. Not that I knew of anyway. It was a way for him to move within the market in ease. I wondered how often he had used this trick to slip away. The snick of a lighter echoed around us as he lit up his cigarette. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets damp with the lingering smell of earthen dew filtering through the air. “Nasty habit to pick back up,” Malcolm commented. His tone was even and measured. “Smoke ‘em while you got ‘em,” he said, the cigarette tucked between his lips as he gave Malolm a wry smile. “Besides, not like it’s gonna kill me, yeah?” “You don’t know that.” “I’ll take my chances.” He meandered through the market like I had seen him do so many times before. A combination of loose limbs and a nonchalant smile. It was a walking memory of happier moments when I had been far more naive. But I could see it now. The way Milo’s eyes kept shifting, looking into dark corners and sifting through the shadows. [[Remain in awkward silence]] [[Do you see something I don’t?]] [[Nothing is going to jump out at you]] “Or he simply betrayed me,” I said. Malcolm took a deep breath, leveling his gaze at me from across the table. “I bet it feels that way.” “I hate the way you just said that. It’s clear you’re on his side.” “I’m on your side, Lamplight. To a detriment, I sometimes think. But Milo doesn’t have it in him to betray people. He did it once for selfish gains and it tore him apart. He’s not going to do it again.” <<if $miloro == "true">> Leaning forward, he steepled his hands beneath his chin. “I get it, alright? You loved him. You trusted him. And then this happened. But it’s not the entire story. I can’t believe that he plotted to betray you for nothing for months on end.”<</if>> “You were dead for ten years. Maybe he changed.” “If he did, then I’ll help you put him in the ground. But I am not going to sit here and condemn him when I don’t have all the information yet. But I’m starting to believe you do.” I looked away. “Lamplight. I need to know what you do.” It was interesting, really. I lacked so much of human emotion when I was the Night Market. The entity that protected. That reached out to the crying and weeping souls just begging for another breath of life. It had fascinated me. Life and death. The way people responded so strongly to each. I had thought that if I came down here, I’d understand it better. But all I had learned was human emotion was far more complex than what could ever be observed. I was starting to hate it. “He summoned me,” I told Malcolm, starting from the beginning and laying it all out. Some things I assumed he knew. Others he didn’t. But at least we would be on the same page. “He did some sort of ritual to close the gates of the market. He was convinced that that was what would save this world.” “Will it?” “I don’t know. I didn’t even think of it in terms of a saving me when I first became aware of the ritual. I instead just took the opportunity to come down here. The spell he was doing wouldn’t have even worked. I just intervened and did it myself. Wishing to experience emotion. Wish to fall in love. To live. To die.” Malcolm leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “Oh.” “Yeah. So I came down here, flung my memories to the wind for a genuine experience. And here we are.” I couldn’t read the expression on Malcolm’s face. I only saw the way his eyes flickered, trying to come to terms with what he now knew. “Do you know how Taliesin was involved in any of this?” he asked. “All memories of Taliesin, even before me descending, are blocked. I have no idea why. He’s off the radar completely.” “So meetings between him and Milo?” “Gone,” I said. “Of course.” Herald came walking back in with Kimber then, a tray of tea in his hands. He set it down, the deep black stitches across his skin looking frayed and stained with grave dirt. Kimber hopped up on one of the chairs next to us. “Okay, so this is an oolong ginger tea because I know it is Mr. Malcolm’s favorite here. I added a tad bit of hibiscus sugar to cut the bitterness and I have also provided forced rubarb pie.” “Forced rubarb pie?” I asked slowly. “It’s like normal rhubarb but where the rhubarb screams for growth in a dark world. Don’t worry. It’s safe to eat. The crunch of it is sometimes a little off putting but I promise you, it is worth it.” Herald poured both of us cups of tea, the steam smelling sweetly through the air. “You two look like you need a bit of a pick me up,” he said slowly. Malcolm took his cup thankfully, closing his eyes as he sipped at it. I watched the simple way in which he relished the warmth of it. A small sigh built in his chest and came out as a calming wave. When he opened his eyes again he was looking directly at me. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I can go and try and contact Milo for you. The others too.”<</if>> “I’m not going to be able to leave here so I’d appreciate that.” “What are you going to do in the meantime?” he asked. “Figure out why I can’t leave the alley, I think. I can’t really do much else until I can leave here. Then everything else might fall into place.” “Bet you could go to the graveyard,” Herald said. “You were pretty corporeal there. Maybe there is a backdoor you can take to get to your grave.” Kimber tipped her head to the side. “Wait. You’re still buried out there?” I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.” “You should go talk to Turner then. He deals in clocks and if your clock didn’t go off but you’re still back, he would be the one to talk to.” Herald looked almost a little surprised that he hadn’t thought of that himself. “I could go get it for you. We are allowed to take the clocks from the grave. Especially if they need fixin’.” “You think he would help me?” I thought of the surly man with the copper skin. He didn’t seem like the world help was a part of his vocabulary. “His heart is in the right place,” Herald said, pushing himself to stand and already looking down towards the empty clock shop. Kimber smiled. “That is code for Herald is not going to give him the choice.” Herald wasted no time as he rose and walked out of the bakery without another word. Kimber was busy cutting rhubarb pie, humming to herself, while across the way, Malcolm was still looking at me. <<if $miloro == "true">>”You know he probably won’t come, right? That facing you isn’t something he’s going to willingly do?” “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try,” I told him. Trying was what I did best. Along with preparing for disappointment.<</if>> “Lamplight, I don’t want to leave you. But I think I might need to go and check on a few things,” he said. He was going to find out Milo’s whereabouts. I knew without him even saying it. “I’ll be back, though. In an hour or two? Before the third lamp tonight.” “I’ll be here,” I said with a rueful smile. “I’ll keep ?them company,” Kimber chirped. When Malcolm stood, he stared at me for a long moment. A shiver ran through me as he finally turned his eyes away from the lanterns after all these years and stared at me for who I truly was. “Be seeing you,” he promised. I held that promise dear as I watched him leave. [[Next|Chapter Two to Turner]] “He got in over his head.” The only question I had after that is how and why. I wasn’t certain whether it was just Milo buckling under pressure or if something else had happened. There was a part of me that knew I should go back and search. Maybe look into the memories and see what exactly had led to these moments. But without even looking, I knew that some of them were blocked. Maybe in time I could unlock them but for now, I was at the whims of what I could stumble over. Malcolm was looking at me, hands steepled under his chin. “Lamplight, I need to know what you do,” he said. “Both of us need to walk forward from that night and I don’t know if we can unless we just decide to ignorantly forget.” “I don’t want to just forget.” “Then explain to me what you know. Please. I’m asking you.” It was interesting, really. I lacked so much of human emotion when I was the Night Market. The entity that protected. That reached out to the crying and weeping souls just begging for another breath of life. It had fascinated me. Life and death. The way people responded so strongly to each. I had thought that if I came down here, I’d understand it better. But all I had learned was human emotion was far more complex than what could ever be observed. I was starting to hate it. “He summoned me,” I told Malcolm, starting from the beginning and laying it all out. Some things I assumed he knew. Others he didn’t. But at least we would be on the same page. “He did some sort of ritual to close the gates of the market. He was convinced that that was what would save this world.” “Will it?” “I don’t know. I didn’t even think of it in terms of a saving me when I first became aware of the ritual. I instead just took the opportunity to come down here. The spell he was doing wouldn’t have even worked. I just intervened and did it myself. Wishing to experience emotion. Wish to fall in love. To live. To die.” Malcolm leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “Oh.” “Yeah. So I came down here, flung my memories to the wind for a genuine experience. And here we are.” I couldn’t read the expression on Malcolm’s face. I only saw the way his eyes flickered, trying to come to terms with what he now knew. “Do you know how Taliesin was involved in any of this?” he asked. “All memories of Taliesin, even before me descending, are blocked. I have no idea why. He’s off the radar completely.” “So meetings between him and Milo?” “Gone,” I said. “Of course.” Herald came walking back in with Kimber then, a tray of tea in his hands. He set it down, the deep black stitches across his skin looking frayed and stained with grave dirt. Kimber hopped up on one of the chairs next to us. “Okay, so this is an oolong ginger tea because I know it is Mr. Malcolm’s favorite here. I added a tad bit of hibiscus sugar to cut the bitterness and I have also provided forced rubarb pie.” “Forced rubarb pie?” I asked slowly. “It’s like normal rhubarb but where the rhubarb screams for growth in a dark world. Don’t worry. It’s safe to eat. The crunch of it is sometimes a little off putting but I promise you, it is worth it.” Herald poured both of us cups of tea, the steam smelling sweetly through the air. “You two look like you need a bit of a pick me up,” he said slowly. Malcolm took his cup thankfully, closing his eyes as he sipped at it. I watched the simple way in which he relished the warmth of it. A small sigh built in his chest and came out as a calming wave. When he opened his eyes again he was looking directly at me. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I can go and try and contact Milo for you. The others too.”<</if>> “I’m not going to be able to leave here so I’d appreciate that.” “What are you going to do in the meantime?” he asked. “Figure out why I can’t leave the alley, I think. I can’t really do much else until I can leave here. Then everything else might fall into place.” “Bet you could go to the graveyard,” Herald said. “You were pretty corporeal there. Maybe there is a backdoor you can take to get to your grave.” Kimber tipped her head to the side. “Wait. You’re still buried out there?” I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.” “You should go talk to Turner then. He deals in clocks and if your clock didn’t go off but you’re still back, he would be the one to talk to.” Herald looked almost a little surprised that he hadn’t thought of that himself. “I could go get it for you. We are allowed to take the clocks from the grave. Especially if they need fixin’.” “You think he would help me?” I thought of the surly man with the copper skin. He didn’t seem like the world help was a part of his vocabulary. “His heart is in the right place,” Herald said, pushing himself to stand and already looking down towards the empty clock shop. Kimber smiled. “That is code for Herald is not going to give him the choice.” Herald wasted no time as he rose and walked out of the bakery without another word. Kimber was busy cutting rhubarb pie, humming to herself, while across the way, Malcolm was still looking at me. <<if $miloro == "true">>”You know he probably won’t come, right? That facing you isn’t something he’s going to willingly do?” “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try,” I told him. Trying was what I did best. Along with preparing for disappointment.<</if>> “Lamplight, I don’t want to leave you. But I think I might need to go and check on a few things,” he said. He was going to find out Milo’s whereabouts. I knew without him even saying it. “I’ll be back, though. In an hour or two? Before the third lamp tonight.” “I’ll be here,” I said with a rueful smile. “I’ll keep ?them company,” Kimber chirped. When Malcolm stood, he stared at me for a long moment. A shiver ran through me as he finally turned his eyes away from the lanterns after all these years and stared at me for who I truly was. “Be seeing you,” he promised. I held that promise dear as I watched him leave. [[Next|Chapter Two to Turner]] Leaning back in my chair, I sighed. “Taliesin was involved somehow.” “He disappeared from the market,” Malcolm nodded. “I figured it probably wasn’t a coincidence.” “Milo was working with him but I don’t think it went the way he thought it would. When Taliesin revealed his hand near the fountain that night, Milo was pissed. At least the mask came down in that moment.” “Did they say anything?” //“Oh, are we changing our mind? Tsk tsk. You can’t do that.” “I’ll take care of it, Taliesin. You can go.” “No, see, I don’t think I can. I’ve got too much wrapped up in this moment, Milo, dear boy. I want to make sure you do what you’re supposed to.”// I winced as the words echoed around us. Malcolm’s eyes flitted to the darker corners of the room, as if looking for the scene. “So Milo was operating off script then,” Malcolm said. “Maybe,” I conceded. “I don’t know how much I can really read into it. “Lamplight, I need to know what you know. Please. I need some clarity in this situation. We both do.” It was interesting, really. I lacked so much of human emotion when I was the Night Market. The entity that protected. That reached out to the crying and weeping souls just begging for another breath of life. It had fascinated me. Life and death. The way people responded so strongly to each. I had thought that if I came down here, I’d understand it better. But all I had learned was human emotion was far more complex than what could ever be observed. I was starting to hate it. “He summoned me,” I told Malcolm, starting from the beginning and laying it all out. Some things I assumed he knew. Others he didn’t. But at least we would be on the same page. “He did some sort of ritual to close the gates of the market. He was convinced that that was what would save this world.” “Will it?” “I don’t know. I didn’t even think of it in terms of a saving me when I first became aware of the ritual. I instead just took the opportunity to come down here. The spell he was doing wouldn’t have even worked. I just intervened and did it myself. Wishing to experience emotion. Wish to fall in love. To live. To die.” Malcolm leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “Oh.” “Yeah. So I came down here, flung my memories to the wind for a genuine experience. And here we are.” I couldn’t read the expression on Malcolm’s face. I only saw the way his eyes flickered, trying to come to terms with what he now knew. “Do you know how Taliesin was involved in any of this?” he asked. “All memories of Taliesin, even before me descending, are blocked. I have no idea why. He’s off the radar completely.” “So meetings between him and Milo?” “Gone,” I said. “Of course.” Herald came walking back in with Kimber then, a tray of tea in his hands. He set it down, the deep black stitches across his skin looking frayed and stained with grave dirt. Kimber hopped up on one of the chairs next to us. “Okay, so this is an oolong ginger tea because I know it is Mr. Malcolm’s favorite here. I added a tad bit of hibiscus sugar to cut the bitterness and I have also provided forced rubarb pie.” “Forced rubarb pie?” I asked slowly. “It’s like normal rhubarb but where the rhubarb screams for growth in a dark world. Don’t worry. It’s safe to eat. The crunch of it is sometimes a little off putting but I promise you, it is worth it.” Herald poured both of us cups of tea, the steam smelling sweetly through the air. “You two look like you need a bit of a pick me up,” he said slowly. Malcolm took his cup thankfully, closing his eyes as he sipped at it. I watched the simple way in which he relished the warmth of it. A small sigh built in his chest and came out as a calming wave. When he opened his eyes again he was looking directly at me. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I can go and try and contact Milo for you. The others too.”<</if>> “I’m not going to be able to leave here so I’d appreciate that.” “What are you going to do in the meantime?” he asked. “Figure out why I can’t leave the alley, I think. I can’t really do much else until I can leave here. Then everything else might fall into place.” “Bet you could go to the graveyard,” Herald said. “You were pretty corporeal there. Maybe there is a backdoor you can take to get to your grave.” Kimber tipped her head to the side. “Wait. You’re still buried out there?” I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.” “You should go talk to Turner then. He deals in clocks and if your clock didn’t go off but you’re still back, he would be the one to talk to.” Herald looked almost a little surprised that he hadn’t thought of that himself. “I could go get it for you. We are allowed to take the clocks from the grave. Especially if they need fixin’.” “You think he would help me?” I thought of the surly man with the copper skin. He didn’t seem like the world help was a part of his vocabulary. “His heart is in the right place,” Herald said, pushing himself to stand and already looking down towards the empty clock shop. Kimber smiled. “That is code for Herald is not going to give him the choice.” Herald wasted no time as he rose and walked out of the bakery without another word. Kimber was busy cutting rhubarb pie, humming to herself, while across the way, Malcolm was still looking at me. <<if $miloro == "true">>”You know he probably won’t come, right? That facing you isn’t something he’s going to willingly do?” “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try,” I told him. Trying was what I did best. Along with preparing for disappointment.<</if>> “Lamplight, I don’t want to leave you. But I think I might need to go and check on a few things,” he said. He was going to find out Milo’s whereabouts. I knew without him even saying it. “I’ll be back, though. In an hour or two? Before the third lamp tonight.” “I’ll be here,” I said with a rueful smile. “I’ll keep ?them company,” Kimber chirped. When Malcolm stood, he stared at me for a long moment. A shiver ran through me as he finally turned his eyes away from the lanterns after all these years and stared at me for who I truly was. “Be seeing you,” he promised. I held that promise dear as I watched him leave. [[Next|Chapter Two to Turner]] “Are you two back together?” I asked, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. He stopped walking, turning to face me fully. “No,” he stated. I felt the words as the concrete promise they were. “So nothing has happened between you two?” “Lamplight, no. I will love him until I no longer exist. And I think I always operate in a way of feeling as if we are just on a break or some bullshit thing like that. But I haven’t touched him. I haven’t forgiven him. And I have not instigated a damn thing with him.” “And if he would have shown up at your door, looking for comfort?” Because we both knew that it was a Milo thing to do. “I would have taken him in and taken care of him. But if you’re asking if I would have slept with him, the answer is no. You two were together last and I am not someone who is going to step into that until all of us have a conversation.” I looked at him curiously. “What does that mean?” “It means,” he said, tipping his head back to the night sky. “That we will need to talk. Much //much// later on. And only if Milo isn’t an idiot like I am viewing him right now.” I didn’t know what I would do when I saw Milo next. What would well up inside of me. I had wandered the market for less than half a year and in that time, while I had learned, I did not have a lifetime behind me. In the end, that’s what bothered me the most. I could be here. I could act like I was one of them all. But I still was an entity that lived beyond the body I walked within. I still was an outsider. [[Next|The Fight Club]]“How are you doing with all of this?” I asked him. Other than Hazel, I didn’t think that Malcolm had anyone he confided in. Especially about Milo. It used to be me who he spoke to. It was one of the reasons I fell for Milo to begin with. Through Malcolm, I already felt like I knew the man. Malcolm looked genuinely shocked that I even asked him and my heart saddened at the knowledge that no one had asked that of him yet. “I’m… Don’t worry about me, Lamplight. I’ll work out my feelings over all this. It’s not the first time I’ve done the Milo Next song and dance.” “Mal,” I started gently. “You don’t have to pretend.” I saw the way his face went blank. His fists clenching at his sides as he stared on ahead. “The truth?” he asked. “Yes.” “I’m pissed. I’m mad that he did this on his own. That he didn’t come to me for help. I was the Gatekeeper before him. I know I was dead, but the second I came back he should have found me. He should have told me what was happening so we could fix it together. And the fact that he didn’t?” There was more to the sentence. It hung in the air cold and rejected. “You think you don’t mean anything to him anymore,” I said slowly. Malcolm looked away. “He should have come to me,” he said. I couldn’t say that I disagreed. I didn’t know what I would do when I saw Milo next. What would well up inside of me. I had wandered the market for less than half a year and in that time, while I had learned, I did not have a lifetime behind me. In the end, that’s what bothered me the most. I could be here. I could act like I was one of them all. But I still was an entity that lived beyond the body I walked within. I still was an outsider. [[Next|The Fight Club]]“I don’t know what this means for him and I,” I said, confessing it out into the night wind. “I don’t know if we were ever together to begin with. From what I have learned, lies don’t go well in relationships.” “No they do not.” “And that’s what it comes down to. He didn’t tell me. He watched me flounder. He watched me meet with Baron after Baron. And he said nothing. Why would he do that?” It was the one sticking point I couldn’t get past. I could find reasoning for the other things. I could even understand them to some extent. But, why hadn’t he told me. And had he pretended to fall in love to get me to do what he needed me to. “I don’t know,” Malcolm said. I felt the brush of his fingers against my hand as he silently asked for permission. I wrapped my fingers around his own, squeezing them tightly. “I don’t know, Lamplight,” he whispered again. I could hear the way he swallowed. “But maybe we could find out.” “Yeah,” I said, voice rough. “Maybe.” I didn’t know what I would do when I saw Milo next. What would well up inside of me. I had wandered the market for less than half a year and in that time, while I had learned, I did not have a lifetime behind me. In the end, that’s what bothered me the most. I could be here. I could act like I was one of them all. But I still was an entity that lived beyond the body I walked within. I still was an outsider. [[Next|The Fight Club]] No one bothered to stop me as I made my way back outside the building and slipped around back. There was a small group of people huddled near the end of the alley, sharing a cigarette and a bottle of something. They didn’t even glance my way. As Malcolm suspected, the third door sat unguarded with a flickering light shinning between the cracks of the door. It wasn’t even latched all the way. Anger welled up at his negligence. He was the Gatekeeper. For anyone else, it was a stupid foresight. For Milo, it was a death wish. Slipping inside, I immediately spotted all the areas in which someone could hide. There was ample places for someone to sit and wait for him to come back. Catch him when he was tired and unprepared. “Idiot,” I muttered. It was Milo’s room, alright. His shirt was tossed to the floor along with a jacket. The jangling key ring he always wore was lying discarded on a nearby table. As if it were nothing. I could hear the crowd outside as the fight began. The cries as a punch was landed. The laughter at the obvious showmanship that was taking place. I waited, my heart beating fast and my eyes locked to the door. I could hear the way my blood thundered in my ears, willing the door to open. Willing for it to stay shut forever. No matter what the next moments brought, Milo was my Gatekeeper. Until his demise, he would remain as such. There was no way to avoid him forever. <<if $miloro == "true">> Even though my heart ached in confusion and raw pain. I had thought love was supposed to feel good? No one had told me that it wasn’t always the case.<</if>> I heard Milo approach before the door opened. Holding my breath in my lungs, I remained in the shadows as he slipped inside. The flickering light from the candles placed upon the broken down table to his right was not enough to immediately reveal me. When the door shut, he leaned against it heavily. I saw some bruising on him. A bit of blood. But nothing too extraneous. He looked tired though, slumping against the cool metal door, slipping as his bare and sweaty back glided against it [[Stay quiet and see what he does]] <<if $mc == "caring">>[[You’re hurt]]<</if>> [[Anyone could have walked in here, you know]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[I should kill you for what you did]]<</if>> I stayed quiet. Far more curious as to what he would do. Had he seen Malcolm? Would he even know I was here? He pushed away from the door tiredly. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from his forehead before running a hand through the damp curls of his hair. The table where the keys laid was the first place he went, grabbing his shirt along the way. I could see the bruising across his torso. Whether from the fight or something else, I wasn’t sure. He stumbled unexpectedly, catching himself on the wooden edge. It was brief, but I could see the wince of pain across his face. When I stepped out, he whirled on me, a knife in hand. There was no doubt he was ready to use it. That he had used it in moments like this before. But the second his eyes caught mine, the knife clattered to the ground, bouncing to my feet. The two of us stood across from each other in the dark and barren room. A cacophony of memories swooped around us. As if to remind us both of who we had once been. But now, the truth was out. We were not longer Milo and $name. We were Market and Gatekeeper. The balance of power was suddenly flipped. <<if $mc == "firm">>“Hello, Milo.” <<elseif $mc == "angry">> "Hello, Milo." <<elseif $mc == "caring">> "Oh, Milo," I breathed. <</if>> He swallowed. “Can’t say I expected this.” [[We’re just going to cut to the chase]] [[You owe me an explanation]] [[Didn’t think I’d be back, did you]] <<if $mc == "caring">> [[How are you?]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "angry">> [[I should kill you for what you did]]<</if>>“You’re hurt.” I stepped out of the shadows slowly, the light flickering across my face. Eyes snapping open, he stared at me with a faint glow. Amber lanterns that twisted inside his own gaze, shed a soft warmth upon the room. Yet, he looked frightened. His body shivering like this was his end. My footsteps echoed softly around us as I slowly made my way towards him. I wouldn’t let him run, but I was not here to frighten him. His hand twitched, breaths coming out in tight rasps, but he didn’t dare move. “You’re alive,” he whispered. Sadly, I shook my head. “Not really. Not yet.” “A ghost then?” he rasped. “Are you… you?” There was such utter terror in his voice that it wrapped around me like an iron band. “Who else would I be?” “Death,” he whispered. “An illusion. The end.” “Oh, Milo,” I whispered, stopping in front of him. I could see it then. The tears gathering in his eyes. The way his cheeks had gone bloodless. “It’s me.” He pushed away from the door then, moving around me to stand across the room. His back was to me and I watched as he wiped a hand across his face. He cleared his throat, shaking off the surprise that filled the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked, voice even and numb. [[We’re just going to cut to the chase]] [[You owe me an explanation]] [[How are you?]]“Anyone could have walked in here, you know.” He jumped, hand reaching out for a knife that laid nearby. I flinched a little at the sight of the blade but said nothing more. When his eyes locked on me, his chest hitched with a surprised breath. Without hesitation, he dropped the knife. It clattered to the ground with a deafening silence. The two of us stood across from each other in the dark and barren room. A cacophony of memories swooped around us. As if to remind us both of who we had once been. But now, the truth was out. We were not longer Milo and $name. We were Market and Gatekeeper. The balance of power was suddenly flipped. <<if $mc == "firm">>“Hello, Milo.” <<elseif $mc == "angry">> "Hello, Milo." <<elseif $mc == "caring">> "Oh, Milo," I breathed. <</if>> He swallowed. “Can’t say I expected this.” [[We’re just going to cut to the chase]] [[You owe me an explanation]] [[Didn’t think I’d be back, did you]] <<if $mc == "caring">> [[How are you?]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "angry">> [[I should kill you for what you did]]<</if>>“We’re just going to cut to the chase on this,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me. The door opened and Malcolm slipped in. Milo looked between the two of us, realization dawning over his face. “Well, I should have expected that,” he muttered, looking at Malcolm with a touch of disgust. “Times up, Milo,” Malcolm stated. “No more running.” “I wasn’t running, Mal.” But he offered no other explanation. We stood in opposite corners of the room, regarding each other carefully. The cool breeze wafted from beneath the alleyway door and I couldn’t help but be reminded of just how dark the world now was. I wondered if Milo thought of it as well. If he cared. Brick by brick he was building a wall and protecting himself. <<if $miloro == "true">>Protecting himself arguably from the two people that cared for him most.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me finally. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“You owe me an explanation,” I told him. The door opened and Malcolm slipped in. Milo looked between the two of us, realization dawning over his face. He shrugged past me, trying to put as much distance between Malcolm and I as possible. “I killed you. What more is there to explain?” The words hurt. Causing the key shaped scar to burn a little across my chest. “It’s more than that,” I told him. “I //know// it’s more than that.” “Then why do you need an explanation?” “Milo,” Malcolm’s voice was sharp. “Don’t do this. It’s an opportunity to set this right.” “Stay the fuck out of it, Mal. I don’t need your help.” “Good thing I’m not here for you,” Malcolm said. It was small, but I could see it. Like it was a slap across the face for Milo. He hid it well, though. We stood in opposite corners of the room, regarding each other carefully. The cool breeze wafted from beneath the alleyway door and I couldn’t help but be reminded of just how dark the world now was. I wondered if Milo thought of it as well. If he cared. Brick by brick he was building a wall and protecting himself. <<if $miloro == "true">>Protecting himself arguably from the two people that cared for him most.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me finally. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“Didn’t think I’d be back, did you?” I started, stepping forward with my arms crossed over my chest. Protecting myself. “I didn’t think much of what would happen after the ball,” he said. It was done with a nonchalant shrug. Perhaps to get under my skin. But in reality, I thought it might be far closer to the truth than he realized. The door opened and Malcolm slipped in. Milo looked between the two of us, realization dawning over his face. A bitter laugh left him as he shook his head, his movements around the room jerky and fragmented. “Times up, Milo,” Malcolm said. We stood in opposite corners of the room, regarding each other carefully. The cool breeze wafted from beneath the alleyway door and I couldn’t help but be reminded of just how dark the world now was. I wondered if Milo thought of it as well. If he cared. Brick by brick he was building a wall and protecting himself. <<if $miloro == "true">>Protecting himself arguably from the two people that cared for him most.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me finally. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“How are you?” He flinched. The light of the candle played across his bare shoulders, highlighting the curvature of his arms and casting his face in shadows. But I could see it. The care and compassion in my voice reaching out and lashing against him in a way that he hated. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t what, Milo?” “Don’t pretend like none of it happened,” he hissed. “Don’t you do that to yourself.” The door opened and Malcolm slipped in. Milo looked between the two of us, realization dawning over his face. A bitter laugh left him as he shook his head, his movements around the room jerky and fragmented. “I’m not doing anything to myself,” I told him, keeping my voice gentle. “Nothing that I am not choosing.” “You’re delusional, then,” he spat. We stood in opposite corners of the room, regarding each other carefully. The cool breeze wafted from beneath the alleyway door and I couldn’t help but be reminded of just how dark the world now was. I wondered if Milo thought of it as well. If he cared. Brick by brick he was building a wall and protecting himself. <<if $miloro == "true">>Protecting himself arguably from the two people that cared for him most.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me finally. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>> “I do trust you,” I told him. “I’m just hurt.” I trusted that Milo had tried. I trusted that he //wanted// to do what was right. But I was still reeling. Still learning. I was hurt and confused and wishing this was as easy as I thought it would have once been. He took a step back, running his fingers through his hair and pushing the water away. “Your grave was untampered,” he said. “So was your clock. But I can go check out the gate thing." “Sure you don’t want to go and beat the shit out of men bigger than you first?” Mal asked. “There’s time for that later.” He stepped by me again, a caged animal just looking for a way out. It was on instinct that I tried to grab him. Not wanting him to get away. But my fingers passed through him. He froze, looking down to where my hand was on the other side of his arm. My breath whooshed out of me, falling frozen to the floor as I tried to move my fingers back over him. Nothing. They disipated like smoke. Only a faint trace of gold hovering in its wake. “You’re not actually here?” Milo asked in confusion. Then, he shook his head. "Sorry. Yeah. We went over this. Just-- you looked so real." “I am.” “That says you’re not,” he said, gesturing to where I passed through him. “I can touch Malcolm,” I told him. <<if $miloro == "true">> He startled at that, something crossing his face. Surprise and something like shame.<</if>> “What else can you touch?” “Items. Doors. I can walk around and–” I looked at my own hand, confused. “Have you touched anyone else since being back?” “Victor Frankenstein. At his lab. He drew blood from me. Or energy or something.” “Doesn’t count. Doc Frankenstein is an anomaly and has also altered himself to work with the dead.” Turning, he addressed Malcolm with an air of indifference. “Malcolm, you’ve seen this gate thing?” “I have.” Malcolm was leaning against the door to the fight club, not letting anyone in. Milo pulled the shirt over his head. It was a dark blue. A far cry from the cream shirt that he wore mostly unbuttoned. “It an actual gate?” Milo asked, tucking in the tails of his shirt. “Looks like it.” “That’s impossible.” Malcolm didn’t rise to the bite in Milo’s words. “Then why even ask what I thought.” “?They can’t touch me,” Milo said, ignoring Malcolm. Malcolm raised a brow. “Surprised ?they even tried.” I moved to stand between the two of them. “Why can I touch you but not him?” I wondered just how far that little caveat reached. “Maybe because Milo’s undeserving? The Night Market works in mysterious ways,” Malcolm said with a smirk. His eyes were trained upon Milo, making sure the man knew that it was a pointed dig. Pulling each suspender up across his shoulders, Milo addressed more of the room than either Malcolm or I. "What I'm saying is, that it can't possibly be a gate down at that grave. Because if it was a gate, one, someone out there has access to the construct that was burried. Which is impossible. But given that $name can't touch me, I'm going to say that that construct has been compromised all together." "There's no body in the grave," I told him. "Fuck," he muttered, grabbing the rest of his things. “I'd say I'd go and deal with this on my own but its doubtful either of you will be on board for that. So I'll meet you two there." “You got somewhere to be?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah. The graveyard. But I can’t travel the normal routes like the two of you.” “Why not?” I asked. Milo’s eyes flickered to me, his voice not as edged as it was with Malcolm. “Gatekeeper is a coveted job,” he said. “Why do you think so many people show up to fight me?” [[That’s stupid of you to put yourself in that position]] [[Are they trying to kill you in the streets?]] [[Then you shouldn't be traveling alone]] “If you’re getting attacked that frequently, you shouldn’t be traveling alone,” I pointed out. “Why not? Wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge? Send me out in the world to help you only to find my body later? Somewhere deep within the bowels of your world.” I just stared at him, feeling shocked not my his words but the amount of self-hatred that was injected in them. “Nice try, but no,” Malcolm said. “You slip away far too easily.” “This is my job, Malcolm. It’s not like I’m going to shirk my responsibilities.” Malcolm looked as if he wanted to counter back, snap back at Milo about the definition of responsibilities. But this wasn’t about him and the time for their own differences was not now. Instead, he turned to me. “Your call, $name. I don’t think we should let him go walking off on his own but I’m not going to dictate all this. What do you want to do here?” [[He can follow us. We’ll deal with whatever comes]] [[Let’s see how he does. Let him go]]“I’m hurt. I won’t deny that he hurt me. But, I think that’s also tangled up in a lot of other stuff. A lot of emotions.” I looked towards Malcolm, taking a deep breath. “Milo did what he did and we are all going to have to deal with that. But I don’t see where treating him badly is going to be helpful. And in the end, I don’t //want// to treat him badly. I just want to fix all of this.” <<if $miloro == "true">>”Does fixing all of it mean fixing the two of you?” he asked. My eyes tipped up towards the rafters of the warehouse. Here, I could almost believe the lights were back on. That the market was thriving once again. “It means there is going to be a lot of talks,” I told him. “But in the end, I still love him, Mal. And I don’t want him to hurt.” Malcolm stepped forward, dipping his gaze to lock with mine. I felt compelled to look back. There was something in his eyes. An emotion I hadn’t quite felt yet. But it shone through and tingled down my spine. “There’s my, Lamplight,” he whispered. Then, stepping back, he nodded towards the fight below.<</if>> “I think you should approach him first,” he said. “Maybe talk to him if you can. I tend to put him on high alert lately, so I’ll hold back. But if you need me, shout. I’ll be nearby.” I was really hoping it didn’t need to come to that. “He’s on for the next round,” he said, close to my ear. “Which means he’s in the back room right now. They won’t let us out there so we’re going to have to wait until his fight is done to approach him.” I tipped my head to the side. [[We’ll stay up here then until he’s done. I don’t want him to see us]] [[We’ll go down there and wait]] [[We’ll go down there and let him see us]] <<set $mc to "caring">>“I’m hurt, Malcolm. Really hurt. The things he’s done keep playing over and over in my mind. I keep remembering The Deep. Odin. The things that happened with Caliban. It could have all been avoided.” Malcolm nodded. “I’m not pretending to understand why he didn’t tell us. I’m only holding onto some sliver of hope that there is a reason.” “I don’t even know if I can do that,” I said bitterly. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I can understand some of it. I really can. By why did he bother to be with me? Why did he bother to get me to fall in love with him? It feels dishonest. Like I was used.” Every moment we had together suddenly flt more and more like a lie and my stomach clenched at the thought. None of it was real. How could it be? How could he hold me and know what was to come? Malcolm didn’t have the answers either. I could see it with the way his gaze turned sad. Disappointment rang between us with the shared name of Milo Next.<</if>> “So is this it then?” Malcolm asked. I wasn’t sure what exactly he meant and I wasn’t sure if I would have an answer, even if I did. “I’m not going to shy away from my anger,” I told Malcolm. “I don’t know if it will be forever, but it will be for a bit. Malcolm stepped up behind me. “He’s on for the next round,” he said, close to my ear. “Which means he’s in the back room right now. They won’t let us out there so we’re going to have to wait until his fight is done to approach him.” I tipped my head to the side. [[We’ll stay up here then until he’s done. I don’t want him to see us]] [[We’ll go down there and wait]] [[We’ll go down there and let him see us]] <<set $mc to "angry">>“I’m going to do what feels right in the moment. Which means staying firm with him. Not letting him lie. And probably holding his feet to the fire a bit so he can’t weasel out of an answer” Malcolm laughed. “You certainly have his number.” Crossing my arms in front of myself, I took a deep and steadying breath. “He’s still my Gatekeeper. I have to figure out how to work with him. And honestly, I don’t have his number. Because if I did, none of this would have happened.” There wasn’t much Malcolm could say about that, so he chose to stay quiet. At least for now. The crowd roared down below and laughter rose high up in the rafters. “He’s on for the next round,” he said, close to my ear. “Which means he’s in the back room right now. They won’t let us out there so we’re going to have to wait until his fight is done to approach him.” I tipped my head to the side. [[We’ll stay up here then until he’s done. I don’t want him to see us]] [[We’ll go down there and wait]] [[We’ll go down there and let him see us]] <<set $mc to "firm">>“I should kill you for what you did. Lying to your Market. Putting me in danger.” He blinked at me, a wall being built up far quicker than I knew how to handle. “Then do it. Because if that’s what you believe, I’m not going to be able to convince you otherwise.” “That’s it? That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?” “Much like threatening to kill me was the first you said to me,” he parroted. The door opened and Malcolm slipped in. Milo looked between the two of us, realization dawning over his face. A bitter laugh left him as he shook his head, his movements around the room jerky and fragmented. “Times up, Milo,” Malcolm said. We stood in opposite corners of the room, regarding each other carefully. The cool breeze wafted from beneath the alleyway door and I couldn’t help but be reminded of just how dark the world now was. I wondered if Milo thought of it as well. If he cared. Brick by brick he was building a wall and protecting himself. <<if $miloro == "true">>Protecting himself arguably from the two people that cared for him most.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me finally. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there? Some sick joke to be able to get to me?" His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “How am I supposed to know. You're the Gatekeeper. Not me. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>"It's going to take me some time," I told him. It wasn't that I didn't believe him. Well, a part of me didn't. My head felt far too full, however, to make sense of any of it. "Yeah," he said. "Sure." He shrugged past me and inside the dressing room where Malcolm was waiting. He went for his disgaurded keys first, fiddling with the bits of metal. <<if $miloro == "true">> An old habbit I remembered well.<</if>> “What are you doing here?” he asked me, not looking up. “I mean, you could have just had Mal come and get me. Or sent for me yourself.” “Would you have come?” //No//. He didn’t need to answer. His look said it all. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” <<if $mc == "caring">>"Of course I want to see you," I told him. "It's you who I don't think is ready for all this yet." He looked away, fidling with his ring of keys. I never had quite figured out if they did anything or if they had all been for show.<</if>> Letting my hands drop to the side, I tried to keep my mind on the reason I was here to begin with. “What I want isn’t really the question right now. We have a problem and it is one you are uniquely qualified to handle.” The words felt as if they were forced from me. Like gravel spitting from the soft tissue of my throat. “I highly doubt…” “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>"I wanted to see you," I told him. He eyes flickered to mine, two soft glowing orbs of amber meeting my voidles black. "I highly doubt that," he said. "Milo," I stepped closer to him, stopping when he flinched away. He tried to shrug it off, crossing his arms before his chest. But I could see the way his arms were corded. The way he kept looking for a place to run. “Would you like to step inside? It’s cold out here and I can barely see anything.” He looked towards the room he had vacated. A caged animal that was trying to decide what his odds for survival were if he walked back in. But he shoved his hands in his pocket, nonchalant, and walked right in. “There’s a gate at the bottom of my grave. Did you put it there?” I walked in, speaking without preamble. It was probably best to just get right to the point. His eyes snapped to my own, shock lining the corners of his amber gaze. “What? No. Why would there be a gate there?” “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t get it open. Malcolm said that it didn’t have your magic or my magic on it but since you’re the Gatekeeper, I’m going to need you to come and take care of that. Mostly because it's going to help me figure out where my body is at.” He frowned. “You're not a ghost. You're not from the Inbetween. But if you aren't walking around in a construct, then what are you?" “I don’t know,” I told him. “Yes and no. Your guess is as good as mine with all that. My clock never ran out. In fact, it seems like it might be broken. Or maybe even tampered with.” “No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “No one would have tampered with your clock.” “You can’t know that.” “I can know that,” he said firmly. “How would you even…” He buckled the keys to his belt, interupting me with a raised voice. “Just trust me, okay?” [[No|Chapter Two No]] [[Probably not the best choice of words]] <<if $mc == "angry">>[[Laugh loudly at that]]<</if>> <<if $mc == "caring">>[[I do trust you. I'm just hurt]]<</if>>“I’m really not sure there is anything you can say,” I told him in all honesty. I’m sorry felt hollow. A shallow gesture, really. An explanation would have been nice but I had pieced most of it together. An admittance to being wrong, maybe? But even then, was he placating me. “Yeah,” Milo breathed when I said nothing more. “There’s probably not.” Thunder cracked across the sky, lighting it for one brief moment. The stitched fabric of the night sky had been ripped open, flapping at the seams. The world was battered and bruised and had yet to heal. “You want me here with you, Lamplight? Or do you want me to wait inside.” It felt like a strange reassurance. Malcolm, no matter what, always seemed to have me in mind. [[Stay here please]] [[Wait inside. I got this]]“An apology would be a good start,” I told him. There was a bitterness that welled from him in an ugly laugh. “Would that matter? What does the words I’m sorry actually do but absolve the offender of guilt?” <<if $mc == "caring">>“I would still appreciate it,” I said quietly. He said nothing for a long moment. “Do you need to hear it?” he whispered. “I need you to mean it.”<<elseif $mc == "angry">>"Not really. No. Just curious if you feel it at all." The fact that he said nothing was probably all the answer I needed. <<elseif $mc == "firm">>"I don't know if it would make a difference. But it would get everything out on the table at least." "I don't think either of us are fooling each other," he told me.<</if>> Thunder cracked across the sky, lighting it for one brief moment. The stitched fabric of the night sky had been ripped open, flapping at the seams. The world was battered and bruised and had yet to heal. “You want me here with you, Lamplight? Or do you want me to wait inside.” It felt like a strange reassurance. Malcolm, no matter what, always seemed to have me in mind. [[Stay here please]] [[Wait inside. I got this]] There was a disconnect. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. There was nothing that was going to quite make it right. <<if $miloro == "true">> That singular moment that defined us at the night of the ball was so much more complicated than I think either of us could explain. And it left a gaping hole. I still didn’t know how I wanted to fill it.<</if>> So, instead of saying anything at all, I left the silence to marinate between us. Maybe sitting in a fit of uncomfortableness was good. In return, Milo didn’t seem to want to offer anything. He was not shrinking away. I knew he wanted to be unapologetic. Not a care in the world. But he was so much quieter than before. Subdued. And he struggled to look anyone in the eye. Our footsteps echoed through the market and in the distance, I could hear someone crying. I reached out for them, trying to feel where they were, but it wasn’t just one person. It was several, all combining into one congruent wail. I glanced at Milo and Malcolm to see if they heard it. Malcolm did, but seemed unfortunately used to it by now. He greeted it with a sort of resignation that said he just didn’t know what to do. But Milo looked pained. Like the sound was screaming in his ears. I caught the wince as it crossed his face. When he noticed me looking, he hid his face even further in the shadows. [[Next|Chapter Three 1]]“Are you seeing something that I don’t?” I asked. With the way he kept looking around, I was convinced I could see movement in the dark. His eyes were bright and flickering. With it, I wondered if he could detect more now. When Milo didn’t say anything, I glanced over at Malcolm. He was looking into the dark too. “Milo,” I stated, trying to use his name as a way to snap him back. “It’s just habit,” he said after a long moment. I didn’t know if I believed him. I wondered if I’d ever be able to believe him again. I stared up at the broken lanterns. They hung in tattered strips, the lights that floated within absent. I tried to encourage them to relight once again. Hoping to see them flicker. But they didn’t even sway. They might as well have been as fake as the stars. “Why did the lights go out?” I asked. I had yet to really understand it. I knew that whatever ritual it was that Milo had done, closed down the doors. Gateways to the other worlds were locked off. Sequestered away as he pulled the ability from my chest and sent me under ground. But why the lights? Milo avoided my gaze. “Thought you would know,” he said with a slight sneer. “No,” Malcolm interrupted before I could even say anything. His eyes bore into Milo. “Try again.” “What do you mean?” “If you’re fae, you can’t lie,” Malcolm stated. “Meaning, you’ve become very well versed in answering a question without answering it at all. Speak plainly, Milo. Now.” Milo’s jaw twitched. His fingers curled at his sides, brushing against the rings of keys that seemed to have multiplied in the last few months. “I didn’t actually know fae couldn’t lie,” he said. “It’s not like I’ve been trying. It’s not like I even knew I was fae until Taliesin decided to let that bit of info out.” [[Answer the question]] [[Are you sure Taliesin was telling the truth?]] [[Wait, so what happens if you try to lie?]] “Nothing is going to jump out at you, Milo,” I stated. “Still, I’d rather travel in the dark.” The market streets were eerily quiet. The joy that I used to hear in the world was long absent now. It left a cold emptiness that surrounded us. Whatever he was afraid of, I didn’t think would even exist here. Next to me, Malcolm tensed. I could see the way his eyes ghosted towards Milo, uncomfortable with his statement. I stared up at the broken lanterns. They hung in tattered strips, the lights that floated within absent. I tried to encourage them to relight once again. Hoping to see them flicker. But they didn’t even sway. They might as well have been as fake as the stars. “Why did the lights go out?” I asked. I had yet to really understand it. I knew that whatever ritual it was that Milo had done, closed down the doors. Gateways to the other worlds were locked off. Sequestered away as he pulled the ability from my chest and sent me under ground. But why the lights? Milo avoided my gaze. “Thought you would know,” he said with a slight sneer. “No,” Malcolm interrupted before I could even say anything. His eyes bore into Milo. “Try again.” “What do you mean?” “If you’re fae, you can’t lie,” Malcolm stated. “Meaning, you’ve become very well versed in answering a question without answering it at all. Speak plainly, Milo. Now.” Milo’s jaw twitched. His fingers curled at his sides, brushing against the rings of keys that seemed to have multiplied in the last few months. “I didn’t actually know fae couldn’t lie,” he said. “It’s not like I’ve been trying. It’s not like I even knew I was fae until Taliesin decided to let that bit of info out.” [[Answer the question]] [[Are you sure Taliesin was telling the truth?]] [[Wait, so what happens if you try to lie?]] “Answer the question, Milo,” I said firmly. He had done it again. Without even missing a beat he had deflected the entire question. With me. With Malcolm. Subtly shifting the focus elsewhere to get us off track. “Why do you think I haven’t?” he asked, growing frustrated. “Just because you don’t like the information I give you doesn’t mean I’m not answering your question.” I didn’t let it deter me. “Answer. The. Question.” Milo’s wrist popped as he rolled it, breathing evenly through his teeth. He sighed, tipping his head back. “It wasn’t part of the ritual. I think I might have done something wrong. Or, someone else took advantage of that moment in time. Taliesin had his own agenda so it could be something to do with him. I honestly don’t know.” “Your eyes are different,” I told him. They glowed like the lanterns that had burned so bright. They had never done that before. “Yeah,” he croaked out. “Why?” “I don’t know.” “If you could guess.” “$name, I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated. Like it was the question he asked himself every night. “I don’t want these eyes, alright? It’s not exactly discreet.” “Your eyes glow and Lamplight’s are flat black. You know that’s connected, right?” Neither of us answered. Neither of us seemed ready for what that would even entail. [[Next|Chapter Three 1]] It hit me then. If Milo was only getting his information from a man whose only goal was to root within my consciousness for something, how could we take it as fact. “Are you sure that Taliesin was telling the truth?” The corners of Milo’s mouth twitched. “Oh, don’t you worry. I called bullshit the second he dropped it. And then went on a little fact checking myself.” “What’d you find?” Malcolm asked. “Just proof,” he said. “Well that’s an answer if I ever heard one,” Malcolm muttered. “Right? It’s like I don’t want to share or something. Strange.” Malcolm looked irritated. I could see it in the way he continued to look ahead. Milo’s tone was sickly sweet and full of vitriol towards the man. It only served to deepen the divide. “Why are the lights out, Milo?” Malcolm asked. Milo sighed, tipping his head back. “It wasn’t part of the ritual. I think I might have done something wrong. Or, someone else took advantage of that moment in time. Taliesin had his own agenda so it could be something to do with him. I honestly don’t know.” “Your eyes are different,” I told him. They glowed like the lanterns that had burned so bright. They had never done that before. “Yeah,” he croaked out. “Why?” “I don’t know.” “If you could guess.” “$name, I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated. Like it was the question he asked himself every night. “I don’t want these eyes, alright? It’s not exactly discreet.” “Your eyes glow and Lamplight’s are flat black. You know that’s connected, right?” Neither of us answered. Neither of us seemed ready for what that would even entail. [[Next|Chapter Three 1]]“What happens when you try to lie?” I asked. I wondered how exactly he had come to this conclusion. If he had gone most of his life trying to lie and being unable to, at what point did he realize that wasn’t right. “I just can’t say anything,” he said with a small shrug of his shoulders.. <<if $miloro == "true">>“But you told me stories constantly.” Milo lied like he drank water. Then again, I wasn’t really sure if I had seen him drink a lot of water. “It’s a work around. Something so ridiculous that you know for sure it's not true, isn’t a lie. It’s a story.”<<elseif $miloro == "false">> “You’re physically stopped.” “Yup. Can think it, but can’t actually say it. I used to go on dates with people and just see how much I could push until the words got stuck in my throat.”<</if>> “That’s messed up, Milo,” Malcolm muttered. “Yeah, well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a mess of a man. That’s what everyone wants me to be, right?” “Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not listening to your self pitying diatribe. You hurt me. You hurt Lamplight. Excuse me if I don’t care about your self esteem.” [[Let Malcolm get it out]] [[Don’t let him get the best of you, Mal]] [[Reach out and touch Malcolm gently]] I kept quiet. Letting Malcolm vent. It wasn’t my job to get in between the two of them and unless they asked, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to. “Self esteem?” Milo laughed. “You’ve never given two shits about anyone's self esteem. Even yours. Stop posturing for $name, will you? It’s pathetic.” Malcolm whirled on him then, stepping in front of Milo. Milo went to barrel into him but stopped at something he saw in Malcolm’s face. “You gonna hit me?” Malcolm whispered. “Is that what you’re going to do to get your way?” “Step the fuck aside,” Milo answered, voice equally as low. Malcolm put his hands on his hips, drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go, Milo. You and I don’t have to like each other. We don’t have to get along. But you’re going to fix your mess. Because if you don’t–” “Then what?” Milo asked. “You gonna do something about it? Because you’ve been back for months now and you’ve yet to do a single damn thing.” Malcolm reached out, patting Milo right across the chest. “I’ve done more in the three years I was Gatekeeper, than you’ve done in your entire life. Excuse me if I’m not all that concerned.” His smile said it all. If this continued further, this was going to be a fight. It was one that was brewing beneath them. An old hurt that had been left unresolved for too long and had now turned into a nightmare. Milo didn’t say anything. He just stepped by Malcolm, quietly seething. I could see it on Malcolm’s face; the disappointment that he had let Milo get to him. There was nothing to be done at the moment, however. So instead, Malcolm and I followed Milo. Back to the Graveyard. Back to the start. [[Next|Chapter Three 1]]“Don’t let him get the better of you,” I told Malcolm. The two of us looked at each other out of the corner of our eye. Milo was baiting him. We had spoken before about how easy Milo could do that. And Mal fell for it so very easily. “Yeah, Mal. Don’t let me get the better of you,” Milo mocked. It seemed to calm Malcolm even further. As if Milo’s vitriol was the catalyst to calm himself back down. He shook his head, gathering himself noticeably, before just looking back and Milo with quiet resolve. “Why are the lights out, Milo?” Malcolm asked. Milo sighed, tipping his head back. “It wasn’t part of the ritual. I think I might have done something wrong. Or, someone else took advantage of that moment in time. Taliesin had his own agenda so it could be something to do with him. I honestly don’t know.” “Your eyes are different,” I told him. They glowed like the lanterns that had burned so bright. They had never done that before. “Yeah,” he croaked out. “Why?” “I don’t know.” “If you could guess.” “$name, I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated. Like it was the question he asked himself every night. “I don’t want these eyes, alright? It’s not exactly discreet.” “Your eyes glow and Lamplight’s are flat black. You know that’s connected, right?” Neither of us answered. Neither of us seemed ready for what that would even entail. [[Next|Chapter Three 1]] Reaching out, I touched Malcolm’s hand, looking at him in concern. He didn’t lose his temper. Malcolm was one of the most even keeled men I knew. But this was something else. Malcolm had come back and every problem that had been buried with him had come back as well. Malcolm squeezed my hand, looking at me apologetically. There was a strange sense of shame that I could feel more than see. He didn’t like that the moment had gotten the best of him. Turning to Milo, he made sure to catch his eye. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No you’re not,” Milo laughed bitterly. It was a defense mechanism that screamed he didn’t know what to do either. “I’m sorry for how I said what I did. I’m not sorry for how I meant it.” Milo ticked his gaze towards him. There was such confusion written on his face. Like he didn’t know if Malcolm was about to berate him for something more or if he was being genuine. In the end, Milo didn’t say anything. He just closed in on himself more and more, fitting into the mold of the unapologetic villain he wanted to be. “Why are the lights out, Milo?” Malcolm asked. Milo sighed, tipping his head back. “It wasn’t part of the ritual. I think I might have done something wrong. Or, someone else took advantage of that moment in time. Taliesin had his own agenda so it could be something to do with him. I honestly don’t know.” “Your eyes are different,” I told him. They glowed like the lanterns that had burned so bright. They had never done that before. “Yeah,” he croaked out. “Why?” “I don’t know.” “If you could guess.” “$name, I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated. Like it was the question he asked himself every night. “I don’t want these eyes, alright? It’s not exactly discreet.” “Your eyes glow and Lamplight’s are flat black. You know that’s connected, right?” Neither of us answered. Neither of us seemed ready for what that would even entail. [[Next|Chapter Three 1]] Stepping into the graveyard, the wind shifted. There was something different about it. A longing of home that had not been there before. I could feel it like a heavy ache in my gut. A weight that bore down upon me with such venom that I felt sick. Around me, the graves all sat. Yet this time, we were not alone. The ghostly eyes of the deceased all stood at attention, looking at the three of us with an unmoving gaze. Men, women, children, beasts and more. All of them stood upon their resting place with their clocks clutched in their hands. “You two see this, right?” Milo asked. Malcolm stepped closer to me. “I do.” “Me too,” I whispered. [[Is this normal?]] [[Hurry off to my grave]] [[Approach one of the ghosts]] “Is this normal?” I asked them. “An entire graveyard of the dead staring at us like we are a delicious snack?” Milo asked. “That would be a resounding no.” “We should get to your grave,” Malcolm said. “As long as they don’t bother us, we don’t bother them.” “I think that’s easier said than done when we have to walk right through them.” Milo was unfortunately right. The path to where I had been laid to rest was lined with pale figures covered in grave dirt. And they looked like they had no intention to move. “Doesn’t matter,” I told them. “It’s my grave. Technically, I’m one of them. So that’s where we’re going to go.” “Just stay close,” Malcolm told me. Milo stepped on the other side of me to flank my body. What he was planning to do, I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like he could touch me. We began to walk down the path towards my own grave. I tried not to look at the people but I could feel their eyes. The way they stared at me imploringly. There was something they wanted. Something I wasn’t giving them. But I was afraid to ask what it was. In the end, they gave me no choice. We rounded the bend that led down towards where I was buried, and the candles surged high with flame. The heat licked our cheeks as the shadows around us grew tall. Broader in stature. It took a minute to realize that they were not connected with anything and as my eyes adjusted to the new light, I saw how the shadows not only began to blanket the world around us, but eat up every inch of flame that was trying to combat it. The ghosts began to cry. Shrieking as the shadows rolled over them. They reached for each other, grabbing onto their loved ones. But darkness prevailed. It writhed against the grave stones, curling smoking arms around the people helplessly standing there, waiting for life to begin. And as the shadow moved on, they left no one in their wake. [[We need to run]] [[Douse them in light]] [[Yell at the ghosts to do something]] We began to walk down the path towards my own grave. I tried not to look at the people but I could feel their eyes. The way they stared at me imploringly. There was something they wanted. Something I wasn’t giving them. But I was afraid to ask what it was. In the end, they gave me no choice. We rounded the bend that led down towards where I was buried, and the candles surged high with flame. The heat licked our cheeks as the shadows around us grew tall. Broader in stature. It took a minute to realize that they were not connected with anything and as my eyes adjusted to the new light, I saw how the shadows not only began to blanket the world around us, but eat up every inch of flame that was trying to combat it. The ghosts began to cry. Shrieking as the shadows rolled over them. They reached for each other, grabbing onto their loved ones. But darkness prevailed. It writhed against the grave stones, curling smoking arms around the people helplessly standing there, waiting for life to begin. And as the shadow moved on, they left no one in their wake. [[We need to run]] [[Douse them in light]] [[Yell at the ghosts to do something]] There was a grave not too far from where we stood. An older one that’s name was obscured with time and the dirt caked onto the stone. There hadn’t been a visitor here in quite some time. It was one of the forgotten ones where the soul beneath had nothing to return to. I could no longer tell if the form before me was a man or a woman. I saw the faint trace of a horn curling from their head but at the same time, it could have been the wind. As I approached, I tried to find a point of connection. Any little part of this person that may still be present. But they looked like a statue made of the finest mist. Ready to dissipate with the morning dew. “Can you hear me?” I asked. “Night Market.” The cacophony of voices sounded all around us as all of the spirits spoke at once. I held my hands to my ears, stumbling back. I felt my ears pop, a wet trickle leaking from each drum. Malcolm caught me by the elbow. Meanwhile, Milo was stepping forward. What he thought he was going to do was beyond me. “Too loud,” I told them. “I– why are you here?” There had been no tales or memories that I could obtain of the spirits of the market rising all at once. “Help us,” they said in unison. “Help.” The trees shook at their combined pain, the wind brushing against my cheeks in a sharp blade. “Oh, fuck this,” Milo was saying. I could feel the blood sticky on my skin. [[Milo, don’t you dare do anything]] [[Gatekeeper, don’t do anything]] [[Wait. Milo. It’s okay]] [[Let Milo do whatever he is going to do]] “Milo, don’t you dare do anything,” I called out to him. We needed to not just react. We needed to be able to get to the root as to why they were even here. What they were doing. The state of the Graveyard as of late was cause for concern. But Milo was not going to listen. I wasn’t sure if he had even heard me. Stepping forward, he pulled out a key from his belt, the metal melting in his hand as he tossed it down onto the grave. A hole opened, the grave itself eroding down into nothing before gold light folded in on it and closed it off. The ghost disappeared with it. And all the others began screaming. “Fuck,” Milo called out, placing his hands over his ears. I felt my own ears pop, the wet drip of blood slipping down my cheek. “Are you in pain?” I asked the spirits, trying to call out over their rising voices. “Please, tell me how I can help you.” Slowly, their heads all turned. One by one, they twisted until the entire graveyard was looking at me. There was a guttural moan that sounded from deep beneath me as the ground began to rumble. The spirit's mouths all began to fall open, a scream erupting from their throats as their mouths elongated down towards their chins, black maws threatening to consume us all. I could feel it then. The souls I had saved. The ones I had cut myself open to welcome into this world. They were crying like they had so long ago. Back when their world was dying. Back when they called out to me to be saved. And now they were looking to me again. But I was unable to help. The door to the chapel opened, and all heads snapped with a crack before the bodies disappeared. “Everything alright out there?” It was Victor’s high and reedy voice that sounded. I couldn’t even see him in the dark. All the candles had been snuffed out. “We’ll be up in a minute,” Malcolm called out. “Alright, stranger in the dark,” the doctor cackled. “I’ll get a spot of tea on then.” “Milo,” I asked, my voice sounded so loud suddenly in the absence of screams. “Can you also turn candles back on?” “Yeah,” he said, voice shaky. “Give me a sec.” There was a brief shuffling as our eyes all adjusted and one by one, the flames of the candles began to bloom to life. There was sweat on Milo’s brow and he looked almost surprised at what he had accomplished. “What the fuck was that?” Milo asked. Malcolm looked at me. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and still looking around. “I don’t think I was the one hurting. I felt pain but… I think it was them. All of them. I could feel them. They felt like every single person I stole through a gate. Everyone I’ve ever beckoned forward.” “That’s never happened before, right?” Malcolm asked, still looking me over for signs of harm. “Not that I know of. But my memories aren’t all together returned.” When I looked over Malcolm’s shoulder, Milo was already halfway across the graveyard. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] “Gatekeeper, don’t you dare take another step.” Milo stopped. To both of our surprise, I think. Taking a deep breath, I surveyed the dead. Milo stood before the one I was talking to but he was defused for the moment. “Are you in pain?” I asked the spirits, trying to call out over their rising voices. “Please, tell me how I can help you.” Slowly, their heads all turned. One by one, they twisted until the entire graveyard was looking at me. There was a guttural moan that sounded from deep beneath me as the ground began to rumble. The spirit's mouths all began to fall open, a scream erupting from their throats as their mouths elongated down towards their chins, black maws threatening to consume us all. I could feel it then. The souls I had saved. The ones I had cut myself open to welcome into this world. They were crying like they had so long ago. Back when their world was dying. Back when they called out to me to be saved. And now they were looking to me again. But I was unable to help. The door to the chapel opened, and all heads snapped with a crack before the bodies disappeared. “Everything alright out there?” It was Victor’s high and reedy voice that sounded. I couldn’t even see him in the dark. All the candles had been snuffed out. “We’ll be up in a minute,” Malcolm called out. “Alright, stranger in the dark,” the doctor cackled. “I’ll get a spot of tea on then.” “Milo,” I asked, my voice sounded so loud suddenly in the absence of screams. “Can you also turn candles back on?” “Yeah,” he said, voice shaky. “Give me a sec.” There was a brief shuffling as our eyes all adjusted and one by one, the flames of the candles began to bloom to life. There was sweat on Milo’s brow and he looked almost surprised at what he had accomplished. “What the fuck was that?” Milo asked. Malcolm looked at me. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and still looking around. “I don’t think I was the one hurting. I felt pain but… I think it was them. All of them. I could feel them. They felt like every single person I stole through a gate. Everyone I’ve ever beckoned forward.” “That’s never happened before, right?” Malcolm asked, still looking me over for signs of harm. “Not that I know of. But my memories aren’t all together returned.” When I looked over Malcolm’s shoulder, Milo was already halfway across the graveyard. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] “Wait. Milo,” I started. “It’s okay.” I stepped forward, matching his steps to keep him from moving forward. I wanted to think it was my request that stopped him. It could have been more that he truly didn’t have a plan. “Are you in pain?” I asked the spirits, trying to call out over their rising voices. “Please, tell me how I can help you.” Slowly, their heads all turned. One by one, they twisted until the entire graveyard was looking at me. There was a guttural moan that sounded from deep beneath me as the ground began to rumble. The spirit's mouths all began to fall open, a scream erupting from their throats as their mouths elongated down towards their chins, black maws threatening to consume us all. I could feel it then. The souls I had saved. The ones I had cut myself open to welcome into this world. They were crying like they had so long ago. Back when their world was dying. Back when they called out to me to be saved. And now they were looking to me again. But I was unable to help. The door to the chapel opened, and all heads snapped with a crack before the bodies disappeared. “Everything alright out there?” It was Victor’s high and reedy voice that sounded. I couldn’t even see him in the dark. All the candles had been snuffed out. “We’ll be up in a minute,” Malcolm called out. “Alright, stranger in the dark,” the doctor cackled. “I’ll get a spot of tea on then.” “Milo,” I asked, my voice sounded so loud suddenly in the absence of screams. “Can you also turn candles back on?” “Yeah,” he said, voice shaky. “Give me a sec.” There was a brief shuffling as our eyes all adjusted and one by one, the flames of the candles began to bloom to life. There was sweat on Milo’s brow and he looked almost surprised at what he had accomplished. “What the fuck was that?” Milo asked. Malcolm looked at me. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and still looking around. “I don’t think I was the one hurting. I felt pain but… I think it was them. All of them. I could feel them. They felt like every single person I stole through a gate. Everyone I’ve ever beckoned forward.” “That’s never happened before, right?” Malcolm asked, still looking me over for signs of harm. “Not that I know of. But my memories aren’t all together returned.” When I looked over Malcolm’s shoulder, Milo was already halfway across the graveyard. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] I let Milo go. As the ghosts turned their eyes towards us, head ticked unnaturally to the side, I stood back. Milo pulled out a key from his belt, the metal melting in his hand as he tossed it down onto the grave. A hole opened, the grave itself eroding down into nothing before gold light folded in on it and closed it off. The ghost disappeared with it. And all the others began screaming. “Fuck,” Milo called out, placing his hands over his ears. I felt my own ears pop, the wet drip of blood slipping down my cheek. “Are you in pain?” I asked the spirits, trying to call out over their rising voices. “Please, tell me how I can help you.” Slowly, their heads all turned. One by one, they twisted until the entire graveyard was looking at me. There was a guttural moan that sounded from deep beneath me as the ground began to rumble. The spirit's mouths all began to fall open, a scream erupting from their throats as their mouths elongated down towards their chins, black maws threatening to consume us all. I could feel it then. The souls I had saved. The ones I had cut myself open to welcome into this world. They were crying like they had so long ago. Back when their world was dying. Back when they called out to me to be saved. And now they were looking to me again. But I was unable to help. The door to the chapel opened, and all heads snapped with a crack before the bodies disappeared. “Everything alright out there?” It was Victor’s high and reedy voice that sounded. I couldn’t even see him in the dark. All the candles had been snuffed out. “We’ll be up in a minute,” Malcolm called out. “Alright, stranger in the dark,” the doctor cackled. “I’ll get a spot of tea on then.” “Milo,” I asked, my voice sounded so loud suddenly in the absence of screams. “Can you also turn candles back on?” “Yeah,” he said, voice shaky. “Give me a sec.” There was a brief shuffling as our eyes all adjusted and one by one, the flames of the candles began to bloom to life. There was sweat on Milo’s brow and he looked almost surprised at what he had accomplished. “What the fuck was that?” Milo asked. Malcolm looked at me. “You okay?” “Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and still looking around. “I don’t think I was the one hurting. I felt pain but… I think it was them. All of them. I could feel them. They felt like every single person I stole through a gate. Everyone I’ve ever beckoned forward.” “That’s never happened before, right?” Malcolm asked, still looking me over for signs of harm. “Not that I know of. But my memories aren’t all together returned.” When I looked over Malcolm’s shoulder, Milo was already halfway across the graveyard. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] “Just let him go,” I whispered to Malcolm, my hand reached out to stop him. Malcolm listened, turning his attention towards me and focusing in on. “You’re looking a bit more translucent than before,” he murmured with a frown. I looked down at my hands. They looked the same to me but then again Malcolm would be the one I trusted to tell me if something was looking a bit odd. “The sooner we deal with this grave thing, the better,” I told him. “We don’t know enough about what I am yet.” “You need to go back to Victor. Get him to check you out again.” And I would. I just didn’t want to right that moment. Call it burying my head in the sand, or just some sort of gut feeling. But it wasn’t where I was supposed to be. Not yet at least. “Come on,” I told him. “Before the ghosts get back.” [[Next|Graveyard merger]] There was purpose to Milo’s steps as he walked in the direction of my grave. I kept back, however. If anything was going to be triggered, then I wanted Milo to be the one to trigger it. Our first line of defense. Malcolm and I followed him, finding him kneeling not by the coffin but by the gravestone itself. The coffin remained unmoved. I tried to think if I had seen a ghost in this vicinity when we arrived but the sea of dead had been far too big to peer through. Milo’s hands were on the ground, his ringed fingers brushing against the grass and dirt as he pressed down. “Shit.” “You feel it?” Malcolm asked. He nodded, turning his head to me. “This how you got out?” “No. I just kind of appeared,” I told him. “I had been wandering for some time but it has mainly been to harass your buddy Taliesin. And to look in on all of you.” If Milo was taken aback by the news, he didn’t show it. “Can I see inside the grave?” “Turner and Herald rigged it so you could. Just lift the lid.” For a moment, I thought he would refuse. There was something in his eyes that made them go damp. But he stood, brushing the grass from his knees before unlatching the lid to my grave. The magic within was bright, bursting out of the ground around us in tiny slivers. “It didn’t do that before,” I said. Milo was looking at it with a certain amount of discomfort. “I didn’t open that. I cut off all gates to outside worlds. I’ve opened a few here but I’ve tried to avoid it. I didn’t know if that would fuck everything up.” “It has your magic on it,” Malcolm said. “And $name ‘s. But I keep feeling something more.” “It feels new,” I said. “Something we hadn’t ever encountered before.” “So what do you want me to do about it?” Milo asked, standing from his crouched position. Still looking at the grave as if it were an enigma made specifically for him. [[We need more information about the gate]] [[See if you can open the gate, Milo]] [[Close the gate, Milo]] “Milo, where are you even going?” I called out to him. The lights were far brighter now, sending swirling spots running through my vision. Milo was a blur on the horizon. A man on a mission. “Your grave,” Malcolm said, rubbing his own eyes.. “Come on.” We followed him, finding him kneeling not by the coffin but by the gravestone itself. The coffin remained unmoved. I tried to think if I had seen a ghost in this vicinity when we arrived but the sea of dead had been far too big to peer through. Milo’s hands were on the ground, his ringed fingers brushing against the grass and dirt as he pressed down. “Shit.” “You feel it?” Malcolm asked. He nodded, turning his head to me. “This how you got out?” “No. I just kind of appeared,” I told him. “I had been wandering for some time but it has mainly been to harass your buddy Taliesin. And to look in on all of you.” If Milo was taken aback by the news, he didn’t show it. “Can I see inside the grave?” “Turner and Herald rigged it so you could. Just lift the lid.” For a moment, I thought he would refuse. There was something in his eyes that made them go damp. But he stood, brushing the grass from his knees before unlatching the lid to my grave. The magic within was bright, bursting out of the ground around us in tiny slivers. “It didn’t do that before,” I said. Milo was looking at it with a certain amount of discomfort. “I didn’t open that. I cut off all gates to outside worlds. I’ve opened a few here but I’ve tried to avoid it. I didn’t know if that would fuck everything up.” “It has your magic on it,” Malcolm said. “And $name ‘s. But I keep feeling something more.” “It feels new,” I said. “Something we hadn’t ever encountered before.” “So what do you want me to do about it?” Milo asked, standing from his crouched position. Still looking at the grave as if it were an enigma made specifically for him. [[We need more information about the gate]] [[See if you can open the gate, Milo]] [[Close the gate, Milo]] “We need more information about the gate,” I told him. “If there is anything you can glean from it, that would be helpful. But I don’t know how much we should really mess with it until we know where it came from. Or why it’s here.” Milo sighed. “I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to get much from it without opening it. My other suggestion would just be closing it completely and sending it away.” “We still might,” I agreed. “But for now, I want to take it slow. Try to see what’s actually going on.” Milo nodded. “Alright then.” Jumping down into the grave, he kicked some dirt out of his way, trying to make room for himself as he crouched down on the wooden door. The magic beneath sung, turned a brighter amber as he reached down and touched it. When he glanced over his shoulder, both Malcolm and I were still looking at him. “Can you two turn away?” Malcolm raised a brow. “Performance anxiety? That’s not like you.” “Just do it,” he snapped. “I don’t like people watching.” [[Turn away|Turn away 2]] [[Watch anyway]] <<set $closegrave to "info">> “See if you can open the gate,” I told Milo. “I don’t know how it got here but I want to know where it came from.” “You sure you don’t want me to just close it completely.” “What good is that going to do? If we don’t know where this came from, then we don’t know how to prevent it again.” Milo nodded. “Alright then.” Jumping down into the grave, he kicked some dirt out of his way, trying to make room for himself as he crouched down on the wooden door. The magic beneath sung, turned a brighter amber as he reached down and touched it. When he glanced over his shoulder, both Malcolm and I were still looking at him. “Can you two turn away?” Malcolm raised a brow. “Performance anxiety? That’s not like you.” “Just do it,” he snapped. “I don’t like people watching.” [[Turn away|Turn away 2]] [[Watch anyway]] <<set $closegrave to "false">>“I want you to close it,” I told Milo. “We don’t know how it got here. But I don’t want it here.” Milo nodded. “Alright then.” Jumping down into the grave, he kicked some dirt out of his way, trying to make room for himself as he crouched down on the wooden door. The magic beneath sung, turned a brighter amber as he reached down and touched it. When he glanced over his shoulder, both Malcolm and I were still looking at him. “Can you two turn away?” Malcolm raised a brow. “Performance anxiety? That’s not like you.” “Just do it,” he snapped. “I don’t like people watching.” [[Turn away|Turn away 2]] [[Watch anyway]] <<set $closegrave to "true">> Crossing my arms in front of me, I just looked at Milo steadily. It took no time for him to cave as he ducked his head. “‘Kay. Fine.” Turning back to the gate, he placed both his hands on the door, feeling the coarse grain of the wood and the dips of the land around him. He then reached for one of the keys on his ring, running over the jagged metal with a frown. I watched as he thumbed the tines of several keys, moving to unhook them but stopping at the last moment. Nothing happened. He leaned back on his haunches, staring at the door with a furrowed brow. “Well?” Malcolm asked. “Just give me a minute.” <<if $closegrave == "true">>Stepping closer to the grave, I rested my forearms on the edge of the coffin. “Can you or can’t you close it?” <<elseif $closegrave == "false">> Stepping closer to the grave, I rested my forearms on the edge of the coffin. “Can you or can you not, open it.”<<elseif $closegrave == "info">> Stepping closer to the grave, I rested my forearms on the edge of the coffin. “Please tell me you found something that is going to help us.” <</if>> “Just give me a minute,” he said, voice growing more and more frustrated. There was a slight glow from his palms and the faint scent of his magic growing stronger. But nothing happened. The door hummed at him and he hummed back, but it remained stagnant and Milo remained simply kneeling within the place they had lowered me months ago. There was a snap to the air around us, like a balloon popping. The air grew thinner and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I felt the world douse into nothing and when I finally opened my eyes, I was leaning back against Malcolm while Milo knelt in front of me. <<if $miloro == "false">>“Hey, what just happened? You alright?” Milo’s eyes were wild as he searched my body, physically keeping his distance while his hands hovered just above me. <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “What just happened? Are you alright?” Milo’s eyes were shot through with panic, a memory rising within the ember flames within his gaze and causing his hands to shake. He reached out to touch me. To comfort me. But his hands slipped right through mine. He fell back on his haunches, swallowing thickly, still looking at me with blatant concern.<</if>> I blinked at the world around me, watching it come back into color. There was something in the distance. Hovering. Just outside of my vision. I could see it over Milo’s shoulder. Shards of broken glass dissipating into the night sky. When I blinked again, they were gone. Malcolm released me slowly as I sat up, his touch lingering with a certain familiar warmth. Milo backed away as I stood. Glancing down into the grave, I could see the gate still there. Glowing just as bright as it had before. “What happened?” I asked. “You collapsed,” Malcolm told me, his voice tight. “Was it the gate?” I stared at the thing with a wary caution. When I looked at both men for confirmation, neither of them could give me a straight answer. [[Go touch the gate yourself]] [[Close the coffin and stay away from it]] [[Look around the graveyard to see if anything else happened]] Rolling my eyes, I turned away. I noticed Malcolm did not, watching whatever Milo was doing with great intent instead. I could hear a few muttered curses and the jangle of keys, but nothing more. By Malcolm’s expression I could tell the man was confused by whatever was going on six feet beneath his feet. The urge to look was nearly overwhelming. “Well?” Malcolm asked. “Just give me a minute.” We waited. Giving Milo that moment that he claimed was instrumental and yet feeling his frustration mount. I counted down the moments before turning back to the grave and peering at him. His brow was furrowed and he looked slightly in pain. <<if $closegrave == "true">>Stepping closer to the grave, I rested my forearms on the edge of the coffin. “Can you or can’t you close it?” <<elseif $closegrave == "false">> Stepping closer to the grave, I rested my forearms on the edge of the coffin. “Can you or can you not, open it.”<<elseif $closegrave == "info">> Stepping closer to the grave, I rested my forearms on the edge of the coffin. “Please tell me you found something that is going to help us.” <</if>> “Just give me a minute,” he said, voice growing more and more frustrated. There was a slight glow from his palms and the faint scent of his magic growing stronger. But nothing happened. The door hummed at him and he hummed back, but it remained stagnant and Milo remained simply kneeling within the place they had lowered me months ago. There was a snap to the air around us, like a balloon popping. The air grew thinner and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I felt the world douse into nothing and when I finally opened my eyes, I was leaning back against Malcolm while Milo knelt in front of me. <<if $miloro == "false">>“Hey, what just happened? You alright?” Milo’s eyes were wild as he searched my body, physically keeping his distance while his hands hovered just above me. <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “What just happened? Are you alright?” Milo’s eyes were shot through with panic, a memory rising within the ember flames within his gaze and causing his hands to shake. He reached out to touch me. To comfort me. But his hands slipped right through mine. He fell back on his haunches, swallowing thickly, still looking at me with blatant concern.<</if>> I blinked at the world around me, watching it come back into color. There was something in the distance. Hovering. Just outside of my vision. I could see it over Milo’s shoulder. Shards of broken glass dissipating into the night sky. When I blinked again, they were gone. Malcolm released me slowly as I sat up, his touch lingering with a certain familiar warmth. Milo backed away as I stood. Glancing down into the grave, I could see the gate still there. Glowing just as bright as it had before. “What happened?” I asked. “You collapsed,” Malcolm told me, his voice tight. “Was it the gate?” I stared at the thing with a wary caution. When I looked at both men for confirmation, neither of them could give me a straight answer. [[Go touch the gate yourself]] [[Close the coffin and stay away from it]] [[Look around the graveyard to see if anything else happened]] I walked over to the gate, not for the first time since being back. Hopping down, I crouched onto my knees, placing my hand on the hatch like door. I could feel the buzz that trilled up my arm and the magic that was thrumming so close to the surface. It was like a word that was on the tip of my tongue. There, but also stubbornly out of reach. “There’s got to be something we’re missing,” I said. “Is it reacting to you at all?” Milo asked. I shrugged. In a way, I supposed it did. But when I closed my eyes and tried to push against it, it was unmovable. My mind had not been my own for so long that I was uncertain whether I had put it here on a whim or if this was an attack by someone else. For all I knew, we’d open it and there would be a pile of dirt waiting for us. “Does this have to do with you shutting down the gates?” I asked Milo. “Is it trying to open but just can’t.” “If you get out of there I can try something but I’m not going down there for a little grave party.” I stood up, ready to climb my way back out, when I felt something wrap around my arm, tugging at me. My body jerked to the right and I nearly fell. But as I glanced down, there was nothing on my hands. Nothing wrapped around my arm. “What was that?” Malcolm asked. “I don’t know.” I rubbed at my arm. “It felt like someone was yanking me back.” “Alright, I don’t want either of you in there.” Malcolm stuck his hand out, helping pull me back up. Just in time for Milo to jump back down. “Seriously, Milo? Get out of there. We don’t need to be playing around with this.” Milo was hunched down, his hand on the hatch like door that lined the bottom of where I should lay. “It won’t open for me.” Malcolm crossed his arms, positioning himself right by my side. A wall between me and Milo if need be. Irritation rolled off of him with the way that Milo just blatanly didn't listen. I couldn't figure out why he was surprised. “Can you trace it?” “No. Yes? Is that something I can even do?” He looked genuinely confused. Even a bit surprised that Malcolm was suggesting it. I hadn’t given much thought to what Gatekeepers could do other than open gates, really. There may have been several things about my own world I needed to start learning. Malcolm shook his head. “You should be able to trace the magical signature. Bring it back to the source.” “Since when?” “Since I died.” Malcolm was deadpan. Staring at Milo with an even expression that clearly said he was not having any of Milo’s games. I looked at Malcolm. “Can you show him how?” “If he’ll listen.” Malcolm stepped forward, the jab towards Milo clear. His boots kissed the edge of Milo’s own. A silent threat. “Close your eyes.” “So you can stab me? Nah. I’m good.” [[Milo, just do it]] [[Milo, please]] I shook my head. There was something dangerous about this one. We couldn’t afford to keep it around. But until we found a way to close it, we were stuck. But I could hide it. I could choose not to go near it. Not until we had help. Going over to the coffin, I went and slammed the lid shut. Ready to shut it off from the rest of the world. Turning, I went to tell Malcolm and Milo the same thing. That we would need to stay away from it. But the graveyard was gone. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>There were several souls huddled in the alleyway. They hunched together, cowering as the screams echoed through the market. The sky was alight. It was not the glow of the lanterns, however, but the flames that licked up the walls. The heat was unbearable, folding over us and pushing us down. Heavy footfalls overtook me as they rumbled across the floor. From the dark, Gabriel stepped out. And for a moment, I was relieved. I thought we were safe. That all of us were protected from whatever horrors were beyond. But Gabriel broke out into a run and the screams started anew. His sword was pulled from his scabbard and came down upon the closest form that was trying to run. It slashed through their neck with an ease, the strangers head rolling to stop at my feet. “Gabriel, what are you doing?” I yelled. He slammed against me, pinning me to the wall and running me through. I could feel the blade as it sunk into my belly. The cold stare of his silver gaze as he leaned forward, jaw clenched together. Electric cracks through his face. My hand came down, touching the blade. My fingers came away wet with blood. “Gabriel?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>The sound of weeping was overwhelming. It was calling to me from somewhere in the fog laden field. It echoed all around me but when I tried to step forward, finding a direction to go in, the sound shifted. It was behind me now. Below me. Above. “Hazel?” I hadn’t known it was her until I said her name. But she was crying. Somewhere out there she was in danger. Distressed. And I couldn’t get to her. “Hazel!” I cried out again. “$name?” Her voice was small. Weak. Voice thick with fear. “Where are you? I’m here, Hazel. I’ll find you.” “No, don’t come close. Don’t look at me!” The fear ratcheted up as I heard her moving. She was running from me. Closing my eyes I listened for the sound of her steps, hearing them to my left. I didn’t hesitate as I turned to run for her. I could see her silhouette now. Moving through the dense fog tinged with green. Something she had created. This was her magic that was writhinga round us. Concealing her. “Hazel,” I called out again. I was close. Pushing myself a bit more, I lunged forward, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her towards me. I released her as she cried out, my touch causing her harm. But she wasn’t running any longer. Instead, she fell to her knees, head in hands. I knelt down beside her as she twitched away. “Honey,” I whispered. “Whatever it is, I can help. Just show me.” She curled in on herself, her fingers scratching at her face as she tried to move away. “I’m a monster. Leave me.” Her skin was speckled with black. Dark, inky smudges that stained her fingertip and ran all the way down her hands. I followed their path and watched as the stained skin disappeared up through her arms. Slowly, I reached forward, taking her hands in mine, and pulling them away from her face. Her head snapped up, eyes bright green. Half of her face was overtaken by the spider tendrils of her hands, while large patches looked as if they were rotting away. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>The mausoleum was cold and damp. Water dripped from the cracked seams of the tomb, extinguishing the candles and leaving only a small circle of red pillars lit in the center of the room. There was a body lying on a stone slab. A weezing gasp rattling from their dying breaths. “I told you not to come.” Belladonna’s voice sounded weak. I hardly recognized it. Her hands were crossed over her chest. The red locks that spilled down her shoulders were stringy and ashen. And Belladonna’s signature style was absent. Instead she was wrapped in black cotton, concealing most of her body. I came to stop by her side, looking down at her sunken face. Her eyes had receded and her lips were cracked through. Each bone patroduded from her face, her skin pulled taut across her to make her a living corpse. “What is happening?” I asked. She took a deep breath. I could hear her ribs cracking as she did. “I love you,” she whispered. “You disobeyed me, but I’m glad you did. I’m glad that I’m not alone.” “Bella, what the hell is…” “Shh…” It came out as a putrid breath. I looked down at her body, my heart racing as the world became colder and colder. Bella’s hand felt unstable in my hands. “Just tell me you love me,” she whispered. “Please.” “I–” Her hand turned to dust in mine. Crumbling between my fingers. I looked up at her, begging her to please tell me what to do. Half her face had crumbled, her eye staring blankly at me as she waited for me to pronounce my love. <<elseif $miloro == "true">>Milo was on his hands and knees, hand pressed against a glowing gate. The ground was shaking, the walls around crumbling, and the sky beginning to fall. “Go,” he shouted. I saw Malcolm then. Close by, my body limp in his arms. “We’re not leaving you,” Malcolm shouted. “You stay here and $name is going to die. You want that? After everything, is that how this is going to end Mal?” “I walk away and you’re going to die,” he shouted. I felt my body freeze. I was looking at myself, unconscious and unaware of the world around me, and begging myself to wake up. To just twitch a little. There had to be something we could do. The world was splitting apart. Everything, absolutely everything was about to come falling down around us. The Night Market was dying. We had failed.<</if>> I gasped, my eyes widening as I was presented with Milo and Malcolm standing in front of me. The graveyard sprawling out behind them. “What’d you see?” Milo demanded. Malcolm’s hand was on his arm, as if holding him back. [[Tell them]] [[Keep it to yourself for now]] [[Forget about it completely]] I began looking around the graveyard, wandering away from both Malcolm and Milo. They called out for me but I put a hand up, signaling them to just give me a minute. To my surprise, they actually listened. The graves looked the same along with the never ending rolling horizon. My bare feet came down delicately across the upturned grass and dirt. I wondered if I should attempt to put on shoes. If I even could. Then again, I was wearing clothes. “Lamplight,” Malcolm called out. “Just please don’t go far.” “Shouldn’t be going out there on ?their own as it is,” I could hear Milo muttering. I ignored the both of them, stepping into the dark and towards the misty gray shadows that curled around the stone pavers. There was something out there. Calling me. It flickered at the corner of each eye and towards the recesses of the market that I couldn’t seem to reach. There was a whistle from the dark. It crawled up my spine and tugged at me. Turning, I saw Pen, kicking $hisher legs as $heshe sat on the fence of a mausoleum. “Please tell me you know what’s going on out here.” I approached $himher, stopping a few feet from the stone structure. A sign was posted outside that said “Dead Forever”. I raised a brow as Pen curled up $hisher leg and rested it on the side of the mausoleum. “I do not,” Pen said. “But I’m happy to hear that you know there is something happening. You can just taste it in the air. Like salt. Not great for the cholesterol.” [[Are you leaning on someone's grave?]] [[I passed out a minute ago]] [[Does all of this mean there is something wrong with me?]] “Not to be judgemental but are you leaning on someone's grave?” Pen looked down, running $hisher finger over the mossy surface. “I mean, a little. But they’re dead. And I got permission.” “Pen, I’m pretty sure most cultures would consider that disrespectful.” $HeShe plucked at the moss. “I am pretty sure most cultures don’t have a time piece ticking down their rebirth. Or a fake sky. Or a construct of the world they walk on, sauntering around their body.” “I do not saunter.” $HeShe held up $hisher hand, parting their fingers. “Just a little.” Tipping $hisher head to the side, they gave me one of their easy smiles. “So, I just came to tell you that I’m taking a spot of vacation. And that I’ll see you soon.” “Where are you going?” “To the big body beyond, you bountiful beaut you.” Pen hopped off the mausoleum, eyes ticking up towards the disappearing stars. “In all seriousness, I tried to check on your higher self at one point and couldn’t get there. Wanted to try again. See if it sheds light on the whole you being $name now situation.” “How long will you be gone?” I asked. “Just a tad. What’s time when you compare it to something like you or I, really.” It didn’t give me the kind of comfort I think $heshe thought it would. “Anywho,” $hisher grin was tight. “I’ll see you soon, old friend. See you soon.” $HeShe disappeared into the mausoleum then, without looking back. The market felt far colder without $himher. “Lamplight?” I turned, spying Malcolm coming towards me. I hadn’t realized how far I had wandered. [[How long was I gone?]] [[Can you taste salt in the air?]] [[Where’s Milo?]] “I passed out a minute ago. I don’t like that, Pen. I can’t just be passing out at random and not knowing if I’ll be coming back.” “Your energy dissipates into these small waves across the market when you are stressed,” Pen said. “I wonder if others can feel it. If they even know what it is they are feeling.” “Pen,” I snapped. “Why did I pass out? That grave over there–” “Should maybe not be messed with.” My mouth snapped shut as I heard the very serious tone in $hisher voice. It was rare that Pen spoke as such. There was frivolity with Pen that was unrivaled by most. But when $hisher voice dropped like that, I also took heed. “What’s going on?” I asked. “Nothing,” Pen said, voice back to normal. “I am going to go and check on that big ol’ cosmic body of yours, however. See that you’re keeping hydrated.” “Did you come to the graveyard to tell me that?” Or was $heshe there for a different matter. “I came because I felt you pass out,” Pen said in all seriousness. “But,” hopping off the grave, $heshe came to me, “No matter. You look fine now. All on the up and up.” Pen was speaking fast, the world around us spinning in a way that had me distracted. “You’re worrying me,” I heard myself say. “Nonsense. No need to worry until there is need to worry.” Their hand rested on my shoulder, squeezing me tight. “I’ll see you soon, old friend. See you soon.” $HeShe disappeared into the mausoleum then, without looking back. The market felt far colder without $himher. “Lamplight?” I turned, spying Malcolm coming towards me. I hadn’t realized how far I had wandered. [[How long was I gone?]] [[Can you taste salt in the air?]] [[Where’s Milo?]] “Do you think this means there is something wrong with me?” I couldn’t help but wonder if the source of who I was, was still in pain. Despite being here, was I still dying? “You want me to check?” My head snapped up. “You can check? On my higher self?” “I can try,” Pen nodded. “I tried before but you were asleep. I’m not sure if you still are.” “Pen, why wouldn’t you tell me that before?” It felt as if one of the first things $heshe should have said to me. “Because we are cosmic entities and we may not think normally. About anything.” Hopping off the mausoleum, $heshe came over to me. It would have felt like an excuse coming from anyone other than $himher. “I’ll try to take a look at things. Might mean I’ll be gone for a bit.” “I just want to see what’s going on with me.” “Then Death is on the case,” $heshe smiled. There was something behind it though. A nervous kind of energy that Pen was awful at hiding. “What’s wrong?” $HeShe shrugged. “I’m not entirely certain. But,” sticking $hisher tongue out, $heshe tasted the air. “There’s something brewing. And it’s not of the laudable variety.” I looked up towards the stars, sticking my own tongue out to taste the air. The only conclusion I came to was that Pen was having me on. I couldn’t taste a thing. “Should I be worried?” Pen clucked $hisher tongue at me. “Nah. Nothing to worry about until we start worrying.” “Are you going to tell me when to start worrying?” Pen smiled. Ducking $hisher head, $heshe turned on $hisher heel and walked back to the mausoleum. “Pen?” “I’ll see you soon, old friend. See you soon.” $HeShe disappeared into the mausoleum then, without looking back. The market felt far colder without $himher. “Lamplight?” I turned, spying Malcolm coming towards me. I hadn’t realized how far I had wandered. [[How long was I gone?]] [[Can you taste salt in the air?]] [[Where’s Milo?]] “How long was I gone?” Time felt as if it had slipped through my fingers and now sat in a diminishing pile of sand beneath my feet. “Not long,” Malcolm said gently. He stepped towards me, hands ready to catch me. I wondered if I looked that unsteady on my feet. “I was nervous,” he confessed. “I want to give you space but I don’t think I’m good at it yet. Not after what happened with the spirits.” There was something slightly comforting over his hovering tendencies. I could count on the fact that if something were to ever happen to me, I wouldn’t be kept in the dark for too long. Malcolm would always try to find me. “Pen was here,” I said, still feeling fuzzy around the edges. “$HeShe said they are going to go look at my bigger self. I didn’t realize $heshe could even do that.” “Did this Pen of yours give a reason why $heshe wanted to do that?” The concern was jolted up a notch. Pen would probably only go if he suspected something to be wrong. I didn’t answer Malcolm. I probably didn’t need to. My eyes connected with his and there was a sense of understanding that passed between us. It was something to monitor. Another little bit of information to file away until it all made sense again. “Come on,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Rest and home is most likely where you should be headed.” “What about the grave?” “It’s not going to be a quick answer. I think there’s some digging we’ll have to do. I’ll work with Milo. Make sure he stays on track.” [[You sure you want to do that?]] I nodded, casting my eyes in the direction. The shadows of the graveyard had concealed him. “Do you feel anything is wrong in the air?” I asked. “Does it taste like salt?” “Salt?” To Malcolm’s credit, he managed to keep the look as if I had gone crazy from his face. “Pen says something is on the horizon. And when I woke up, I kept seeing something in the background. Like broken glass.” Malcolm didn’t question it. I could tell he believed me right away. “Does this Pen of yours have a direction to go in? Something we can look into?” “$HeShe said they were going to go take a look. $HeShe said not to worry yet.” “Then we don’t worry.” I didn’t believe it for a second. Malcolm did a great job at hiding what he thought and felt but I could see through the cracks and peek under whatever mask he kept firmly in place. “Come on,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Rest and home is most likely where you should be headed.” “What about the grave?” “It’s not going to be a quick answer. I think there’s some digging we’ll have to do. I’ll work with Milo on all this. Make sure he stays on track.” [[You sure you want to do that?]]“Where’s Milo?” “Back at the grave. He’s trying to figure the gate out. I think the entire thing is bothering him a bit. He can’t seem to puzzle out how that got there.” <<if $miloro == "true">> “I remember him coming to the grave. When I was gone. Dead? I’m not sure what we’re calling it.” Malcolm tipped his head to the side. “He came to visit you?” “A lot,” I answered. “I can’t remember if he talked to me but in the beginning, he visited a lot.” Malcolm looked down, his eyes flickering with guilt. “Thank you for telling me that. I thought he avoided you completely.”<</if>> Looking up towards the starless sky, I felt the night air wash over me. It felt like a lie. An illusion that I had put in place and was now trapped within. It was funny, really. Considering how many I had brought within these walls. And now, I felt as if they were my own prison. “Come on,” Malcolm said, noticing the look on my face. “It’s been a long day. Rest and home is most likely where you should be headed.” “What about the grave?” “It’s not going to be a quick answer. I think there’s some digging we’ll have to do. I’ll work with Milo, though. Try and figure out what that thing is.” [[You sure you want to do that?]] “You sure you want to do that?” I asked. “Put yourself back in that position?” Since Malcolm had been back, he had only seen Milo a handful of times. I was certain that most of their past had been left unsaid. Old wounds continued to fester. They kept each other at a distance and I wasn’t sure how the two of them were supposed to work together on any sort of task. Milo had avoided us at all costs. I didn’t see how he was supposed to just walk back in. <<if $miloro == "true">> I wasn’t sure either, how my past relationship with Milo was affecting everything going forward. It was the large and gaping star in the room. The kind that was going to implode on itself.<</if>> Malcolm, however, didn’t look like he shared the same concerns. “It’ll be okay. We can put our differences aside. Especially if we have a mutual problem to solve.” “Milo hasn’t really seemed like a team player lately.” Even taking emotion out of it, Milo had the tendency to run. He did things on his own. He tried his hardest to face the world and its problems without rocking the boat of others. And in return, he let the ripple of his actions dismantle the plans and intentions of others. Malcolm snorted. “He’ll be fine. I know how to handle him.” <<if $miloro == "true">> When he stepped forward, I felt the air around us change. Malcolm ducked his head down, dragging his foot against the dirt. “He seems different,” he said, his voice pitched low. “That in no way is me advocating for forgiveness for him but… he does seem different, right? Or is it just me.” [[No, he does seem different]] [[Could be an act]] [[He seems the same]]<</if>> <<if $miloro == "false">>I wondered if that was going to backfire on us. There was a certain amount of trepidation that was going to come with trusting Milo with something so big again. I had to believe that Malcolm could handle it. “How do you want to approach all of this?” Malcolm finally asked. “Day by day. I mean, I’m not even corporeal. I can’t touch anything or anyone except you. I have bigger problems I guess.” “Yeah.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Yeah.” The world darkened around us. The candles dimmed. The light that cast down from the sky faltered. “Let’s get you home,” Malcolm said. [[Next|Chapter three 2]]<</if>> “No, he does seem different,” I agreed. “I can’t tell whether he’s angrier or more sad.” “I don’t either,” Malcolm said, resigned. “I’ve seen both of those emotions from him but I had to drag them out of him. Getting Milo to be serious or talk about feelings has always been difficult.” “To be fair, he doesn’t seem to be sharing a lot of emotions.” “No,” Malcolm agreed. “Maybe he hasn’t changed at all.” Malcolm didn’t say much after that. His ears tuned to the sound of the cursing man somewhere in the graveyard. Meanwhile, he stepped close to me. I didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “How do you want to approach all of this?” Malcolm finally asked. “Day by day. I mean, I’m not even corporeal. I can’t touch anything or anyone except you. I have bigger problems I guess.” “Yeah.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Yeah.” The world darkened around us. The candles dimmed. The light that cast down from the sky faltered. “Let’s get you home,” Malcolm said. [[Next|Chapter three 2]] “It could be an act,” I said, casting my gaze out towards where Milo was. His silhouette was hidden but I knew he was there. I could feel his magic. A burnt little tinge on the tongue that was bittersweet to acknowledge. “Or maybe this is the true him. Maybe neither of us know who he is.” “Don’t say that,” Malcolm said softly. “That’s just depressing.” “Am I wrong?” I asked. “No. That’s what makes it all the more depressing.” Malcolm didn’t say much after that. His ears tuned to the sound of the cursing man somewhere in the graveyard. Meanwhile, he stepped close to me. I didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “How do you want to approach all of this?” Malcolm finally asked. “Day by day. I mean, I’m not even corporeal. I can’t touch anything or anyone except you. I have bigger problems I guess.” “Yeah.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Yeah.” The world darkened around us. The candles dimmed. The light that cast down from the sky faltered. “Let’s get you home,” Malcolm said. [[Next|Chapter three 2]] “He seems the same to me,” I said. Malcolm had been gone for ten years. Maybe the Milo he remembered was no longer around. The one I knew was not the same man that Malcolm had once danced with. “Does he?” I could tell there was disappointment in his words. He had been hoping that this was new. The change wasn’t what bothered him, but it was the fact that he didn’t know this new man. And he was alone in that. “At least he’s proven that he can grow. I used to think that was impossible.” “Give someone enough time in this world and they’ll change. Whether or not it's for the good is hard to say.” Malcolm didn’t say much after that. His ears tuned to the sound of the cursing man somewhere in the graveyard. Meanwhile, he stepped close to me. I didn’t think he realized he was doing it. “How do you want to approach all of this?” Malcolm finally asked. “Day by day. I mean, I’m not even corporeal. I can’t touch anything or anyone except you. I have bigger problems I guess.” “Yeah.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Yeah.” The world darkened around us. The candles dimmed. The light that cast down from the sky faltered. “Let’s get you home,” Malcolm said. [[Next|Chapter three 2]] Wandering back towards my grave I watched as Milo crawled out of the hole. He looked frustrated. There was a curse under his breath that I could hear in the wind. He was rubbing his arm, massaging at the bicep briefly. “I don’t know what that is,” he said irritatedly. His eyes were cast down at the grave in an offended state of affairs. “It won’t open for me.” Malcolm crossed his arms, positioning himself right by my side. A wall between me and Milo if need be. “Can you trace it?” “No. Yes? Is that something I can even do?” He looked genuinely confused. Even a bit surprised that Malcolm was suggesting it. I hadn’t given much thought to what Gatekeepers could do other than open gates, really. There may have been several things about my own world I needed to start learning. Malcolm shook his head. “You should be able to trace the magical signature. Bring it back to the source.” “Since when?” “Since I died.” Malcolm was deadpan. Staring at Milo with an even expression that clearly said he was not having any of Milo’s games. I looked at Malcolm. “Can you show him how?” “If he’ll listen.” Malcolm stepped forward, the jab towards Milo clear. His boots kissed the edge of Milo’s own. A silent threat. “Close your eyes.” “So you can stab me? Nah. I’m good.” [[Milo, just do it]] [[Milo, please]] “Milo, just do it.” I felt tired. I didn’t want the constant argument or the questions. For once, I just wanted someone to do what was being asked without twenty questions. I certainly had to fall into that role for the rest of them. They owed it to me to do the same. When his gaze connected with mine, it was hardened steel. “As you wish,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t have much of a choice when demanded, right? Got to just be the pawn in everyone else's pageant.” “Oh, lay off it, Milo,” Malcolm said, turning his back on the man. Slowly, Milo closed his eyes. The air felt calm around us. A distinct variation to the nightmare saga that had greeted us upon entering the graveyard. For a place of death, it was rather lively in surprising ways. When the air chilled the spirits all hushed in their graves, was when Malcolm finally spoke. “Find the threads,” Malcolm said. “You should be able to see the magic. There shouldn’t be much of it. Find the spark, grab onto it, and allow yourself to see the other threads.” Milo was frowning, his hands twitching at his side. “I can’t–” he jerked a little. As if avoiding a punch. “Grab it,” Malcolm said firmly. “You got to stop being afraid. Grab a hold of what you see, Milo. Open yourself to it.” I felt something then. A tug at my spine. I could feel the braided magic pulling from within and weaving through the market. It was reaching towards Milo, desperately grabbing at the magic he should have held. But I kept coming away with nothing. Like colored smoke that dissipated at the mere provocation. “Find it, Milo,” Malcolm demanded. “It’s right there. Just reach out for it and–” Milo hissed in pain, stumbling away. And all the magic. All the gold. It fell apart. He turned away from us, keeping his eyes closed so the glow wouldn’t light his face. “I’ll work on it,” he muttered. “I got to go though. I have some prior engagements.” [[He’s not confident enough for this]] [[What just happened]] [[Call out to him]] “Milo,” I said softly. “Please.” He looked over Malcolm’s shoulder, glancing at me conflicted. I could see it in every move he made. He wanted to help. He wanted to not be on the outside any longer. But he didn’t know how to step back in. “Fine,” he told Malcolm. “Just, don’t touch me. Please.” Malcolm cocked his head to the side, catching the plea in his tone. “Why?” “Just don’t want you to,” he mumbled. “Whatever, Milo,” he said with a sigh. It was the same old shit that he had been dealing with for most of his life. Slowly, Milo closed his eyes. The air felt calm around us. A distinct variation to the nightmare saga that had greeted us upon entering the graveyard. For a place of death, it was rather lively in surprising ways. When the air chilled the spirits all hushed in their graves, was when Malcolm finally spoke. “Find the threads,” Malcolm said. “You should be able to see the magic. There shouldn’t be much of it. Find the spark, grab onto it, and allow yourself to see the other threads.” Milo was frowning, his hands twitching at his side. “I can’t–” he jerked a little. As if avoiding a punch. “Grab it,” Malcolm said firmly. “You got to stop being afraid. Grab a hold of what you see, Milo. Open yourself to it.” I felt something then. A tug at my spine. I could feel the braided magic pulling from within and weaving through the market. It was reaching towards Milo, desperately grabbing at the magic he should have held. But I kept coming away with nothing. Like colored smoke that dissipated at the mere provocation. “Find it, Milo,” Malcolm demanded. “It’s right there. Just reach out for it and–” Milo hissed in pain, stumbling away. And all the magic. All the gold. It fell apart. He turned away from us, keeping his eyes closed so the glow wouldn’t light his face. “I’ll work on it,” he muttered. “I got to go though. I have some prior engagements.” [[He’s not confident enough for this]] [[What just happened]] [[Call out to him]] “Milo…” I might as well have been speaking to the wind. He was gone. Practically fleeing from the graveyard. “Damn it,” Malcolm muttered. “That wasn’t what I expected.” Milo had always exuded a confidence that I had never questioned. For him to run from the graveyard felt unnatural in a way. “He’s untrained. He’s gone too many years locking himself off. He doesn’t want to open up.” I could see the disappointment in Malcolm’s eyes. He expected so much more from Milo and he expected it now. “Hey,” I said. “It’s going to be okay.” There was a certain degree of this that I could tell Malcolm was taking responsibility for. Despite being dead, this somehow became his fault. It spoke to the kind of man that Malcolm was. When Malcolm turned to me, I saw a bit of the anger ease. He stepped towards me, needing to be near something familiar. “I’m sorry. How are you doing? Are you okay? This has got to be a lot for you.” “This moment isn’t about me,” I told him softly. There was time for me. Malcolm always made sure there was time for me. But I could see something rumbling just beneath the surface of Mal’s eyes and I wanted to help. “I’m not sure what this moment is about then,” he said. “What just happened back there?” “I was trying to teach him and he wouldn’t listen. He never listens. I don’t even know why I try.” [[Maybe you should stop]] [[You have a lot tangled up in him]] [[Because you love him]] While Milo skirted off into the night, I watched him go with a realization I never thought I would come to about Milo. “He’s not confident enough for this job,” I said. “He’s good at putting on airs but if he doesn’t actually believe himself soon, we may be dead in the water with him.” Malcolm muttered something I couldn’t quite hear under his breath. I knew it was an agreement of some sorts. The frustration that rolled from the man over Milo’s inability to follow his directions was palpable. “I’m not going to let his insecurities destroy this world,” Malcolm uttered. “Milo’s going to need to show up a bit more than he has and he’s going to need to start trusting people. This lone wolf routine of his is a smoke screen for his fear of getting hurt.” It was a surprisingly astute observation for a man that had been dead for ten years. But it hit every note of truth that I had internalized about the man before. When Malcolm turned to me, I saw a bit of the anger ease. He stepped towards me, needing to be near something familiar. “I’m sorry. How are you doing? Are you okay? This has got to be a lot for you.” “This moment isn’t about me,” I told him softly. There was time for me. Malcolm always made sure there was time for me. But I could see something rumbling just beneath the surface of Mal’s eyes and I wanted to help. “I’m not sure what this moment is about then,” he said. “What just happened back there?” “I was trying to teach him and he wouldn’t listen. He never listens. I don’t even know why I try.” [[Maybe you should stop]] [[You have a lot tangled up in him]] [[Because you love him]] I was watching after Milo’s retreating form. It was not the visage of a man who had failed, but one who was afraid. His shoulders were slumped, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, as he practically fled from the graveyard. “What just happened?” I asked. Malcolm was disappointed. It was felt in every thread through the air. “He isn’t even trying,” he said in frustration. “This is something he should know by now. He’s been the Gatekeeper for ten years. The basics of the job should be done without even blinking.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, taking deep breaths to keep himself steady. “No wonder the market is in the shape that it is in. Milo never should have had this responsibility.” “With how you feel, why didn’t you give it to Hazel?” It was something I had wondered a few times now. Milo and Hazel had both been there that night. “I didn’t get to choose,” Malcolm said. “Though, I probably would have still chosen Milo, if we’re being honest. I wouldn’t wish this job on my sister.” That said more about the nature of the job than I had considered before. Even with Milo’s failures, Malcolm would still give it to him again. When Malcolm turned to me, I saw a bit of the anger ease. He stepped towards me, needing to be near something familiar. “I’m sorry. How are you doing? Are you okay? This has got to be a lot for you.” “This moment isn’t about me,” I told him softly. There was time for me. Malcolm always made sure there was time for me. But I could see something rumbling just beneath the surface of Mal’s eyes and I wanted to help. “I’m not sure what this moment is about then,” he said. “What just happened back there?” “I was trying to teach him and he wouldn’t listen. He never listens. I don’t even know why I try.” [[Maybe you should stop]] [[You have a lot tangled up in him]] [[Because you love him]] “Maybe you should stop,” I offered. “Stop what?” “Stop trying. If it bothers you so much, maybe its time to stop holding out the olive branch and instead, wait for him to come to you.” Malcolm slumped. I could see the anger visibly bleed out of him. “Do you know how many times I’ve said that myself? The amount of times I’ve actually washed my hands of him?” “Why has it never stuck?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “Because maybe I’m just as damaged as him.” The moment the words left his mouth he clammed up. I could see the way he shut down, pushing the thought of Milo from his present. Instead, he looked at me, startling a little by whatever he saw. “Let’s get you back to Artisan Alley,” he told me. “I hate to say it but you are looking a little more washed out. I think you’ve been away too long.” I raised my hand, looking at its pallor. I could see the veins within. They were dark as night, flecked with dying stars. “There’s still so much I don’t understand about myself,” I told him. Malcolm stood as close to me as he could, without touching. “Then let’s find out who you are,” he said. “Come on.” [[Next|Artisan Alley]] “You have a lot tangled up in him, Mal. It’s okay.” It was doubtful he had taken the time to even deal with being back after so long. Let alone deal with whatever Milo was to him. <<if $miloro == "true">> From experience, dealing with the subject of Milo, was not easy. Especially when the world was at stake and he was the one with some of the answers.<</if>> “I’m better than this,” Malcolm muttered. “I’ve known Milo practically my entire life. I know his bullshit. I am better than rising to the bait that is his particular brand of insecurity.” Even as he said it, Malcolm looked sad. Like he didn’t quite understand where his anger was coming from and why he felt so guilty for saying it. “It’s going to take some time,” I told him. “For both of us.” Time. It was not my favorite word. Yet it seemed to be the solution for so much. “Let’s get you back to Artisan Alley,” he told me. “I hate to say it but you are looking a little more washed out. I think you’ve been away too long.” I raised my hand, looking at its pallor. I could see the veins within. They were dark as night, flecked with dying stars. “There’s still so much I don’t understand about myself,” I told him. Malcolm stood as close to me as he could, without touching. “Then let’s find out who you are,” he said. “Come on.” [[Next|Artisan Alley]] “Because you love him,” I said. “It’s as simple as that.” <<if $miloro == "true">> As someone who had and possibly still did, fall into that category, I couldn’t fault Malcolm for it. Love was an emotion I spent nearly a year discovering. And it was complicated and full of raw truths that struck different cords in me depending on the day. But when it came down to it, love was a blind fool. And if you chose to hold love's hand, there was not a lot of going back. Malcolm was the kind of man who had a tight grip on love. I envied him for it.<</if>> Malcolm laughed bitterly. “I don’t know if anything about Milo is simple.” Collecting himself, he let the night air wash over him. There were moments, when I was still a light shining down on Malcolm, that I would listen to him speak of his frustration. Where I would watch as he curled beneath the lanterns and just longed for silence. He had grown a thicker skin when he became a Gatekeeper. And now, he was living in a world where he had to just be Malcolm Albright again, and I wasn’t sure if he was okay. “Let’s get you back to Artisan Alley,” he told me. “I hate to say it but you are looking a little more washed out. I think you’ve been away too long.” I raised my hand, looking at its pallor. I could see the veins within. They were dark as night, flecked with dying stars. “There’s still so much I don’t understand about myself,” I told him. Malcolm stood as close to me as he could, without touching. “Then let’s find out who you are,” he said. “Come on.” [[Next|Artisan Alley]] Coming back to Artisan Alley was strangely like coming home. I couldn’t quite place why because in the end, it should have been no different from anywhere else I wandered. Maybe it was the fact that this portion of the market was so small. Or that I could see the potential that existed between the alley walls. Or maybe, it was because for the first time in my very existence, I actually had a home. Granted, it was nothing more than a tiny little nook cut in at the end of an alleyway. I still had no door and my flower boxes were dormant. And inside was blank and somewhat dreary… and there looked to be a portal to the liminal space of the world right beyond my bedroom. But it was mine. That was a little more than I could have said about anything else I’d had before. Malcolm bid me goodbye beneath the archways, promising me that he would check in soon. I could see his need for space. It was ironic, really. He had sought me out time and again when I was nothing more than a soft glow in the city streets. But with the solid presence he often wished for, he hid himself away. For now, I would give him space. But soon, he would have to make a choice. The lights to Kimbers bakery were bright and the warm scent of strawberry jam beckoned me from within. Inside, I could see the little baker perched up on one of her tables while across the way was Turner and Sawyer. The three of them seemed to be having some sort of discussion that had Turner's face twisted in disgust and Sawyers in delight. When Kimber spotted me, she stood up on the table and began shouting. It wasn’t anything I could hear from outside the shop but she was animated and had locked eyes with me giving me no choice but to come inside. “Yay! $name! You’re here! Just the person we needed to see.” The table beneath Kimbers feet wobbled as she began jumping up and down. “Would you like a pastry? I just made jam tarts. Oh! Or do you not like jam? It’s okay if you don’t. I have plenty of other things for you. Let’s see. I have spinach mousse. A souffle of corn. Oh! Chocolate bavarian puffs!” “Kimmy,” Sawyer cooed. “You have to let our dear new neighbor answer before giving more options.” “Oh, right.” She sat down on the table again. “I’m so sorry. I get excited about my baking. Uh, have a seat?” she said more calmly, her movements oddly stilted as if it physically pained her to slow down her speech. “Take a load off. That’s what they say, right?” Turner snorted, his head still ducked down as he ripped apart a napkin. “You really don’t need to do anything special for me,” I assured her. “Oh, no. It’s really not a problem. You need to understand that it's like a disease. I //have// to bake. If I don’t, then my brain starts unraveling into a million miles of yarn and I can’t think straight and then all I really can understand is //kill kill kill//. Baking calms the voices in my head.” I stared at her. [[I know what you mean]] [[You’re joking, right?]] [[The voices?]] “I know what you mean, actually.” Kimber’s eyes went wide in shock as she flipped her gaze to mine with pure hope. “You do?” “I do,” I nodded. “Maybe not to the extent I’m not thinking you experience it but I do have a goblin man running around in my mind, sifting through memories.” “Oh baby,” Sawyer sighed. “We’ve all been there.” Kimber’s grin was wide as she relaxed a little. “It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in the strange things. What do you do to counter it all?” I hadn’t done anything, as of yet. Taliesin was still a problem and one I had been ignoring. “A coping mechanism might be in order,” I told her truthfully. “Oh, we can help with that,” she said happily. “We’re really good at distracting ourselves from trauma.” “Turner’s not,” Sawyer pointed out. Turner reached over and shoved Sawyer hard enough for the man to fall out of the chair. “You don’t get to pass judgment, Sawyer. Ever.” “Ah, but judgment gives a luminosity to my skin that I just can’t help.” “Fucking hell,” Turner muttered. “Anyway, I am glad you’re here, $name,” Kimber continued. “Because I feel as a resident of Artisan Alley, you should get your say in this vote too.” “What vote?” “We want to expand,” Sawyer said. “Would be good for business around here.” “We don’t need more fucking business,” Turner grumbled. “You would rather us have no business,” Sawyer pointed out. “We don’t need the money,” he countered. “I don’t want to continue sleeping in the same bed as you, baby doll. So yes we do.” I frowned as I looked between the three of them. “You guys all share the same bed?" Kimber jumped off the table and went to go gather some snacks. “Us and little Ibby. Though ever since Turner got his new beau, he’s hardly home.” “Not true,” Turner protested. “Is true,” Sawyer pointed an accusing finger at him. “And even if it wasn’t, we still need our own places. This alley is our ticket to a better life. We all agreed to that. Now we have to make it better. Which does mean, we need to embrace our montage and revitalize this little strip of land.” “And have more fucking people walking up and down our street? Fuck no.” “You paranoid mother fucker. We are not in that world anymore. We are not in–” “Biscuits!” Kimber interrupted the two of them, slamming a tray of biscuits onto the table and knocking them both out of their fight. Sawyer leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed while Turner destroyed the napkin that was in his hands. “So, $name, what do you think? Should we open our home to others?” [[I don’t think my opinion matters here]] [[What kind of businesses would you want?]] [[I say go for it]] I laughed a little. But when no one else joined, I felt my amusement twist into concern. “You’re joking right?” Kimber looked mortified about what she let slip. The fight or flight instinct began to tick up a notch in her eyes as she scooted away from me. “Of course I’m joking,” she said with a nervous titter. When she nearly fell off the table, Sawyer caught her, pulling her in for a tight hug. “Our little Kimmy is full of beautiful surprises. Her crazy is what makes her interesting.” “Don’t fucking call her crazy,” Turner muttered. Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Her beautiful eccentricities and her fashion sense, makes her interesting. She’s like the doll I was never allowed to have.” Kimber turned a watery gaze up at him. “You really think so?” “Fucking hell,” Turner muttered. He swiveled around to face me then, a bulldog guarding his family. “We aren’t from here. We all got a past. Take it or leave it but we’re not fucking judging Kimmy. It’s a line in the sand.” [[I’m not judging]] [[Are these voices dangerous]] [[How does baking help?]] “The voices?” I asked, trying to keep any sort of judgment from my tone. “Oh.” Kimbers eyes went owlish as she stared at me, obviously not having meant to reveal that little trait about herself. “Yeah.” Sawyer was the first to pop in, wrapping an arm around Kimber and pulling her close. She shuffled to the edge of the table, snuggling into him. “Now now,” he started politely. “Just because our little Kimmy hears some voices in her head doesn’t mean she’s nuts.” Turner rolled his eyes. “That is a sales pitch if I’ve ever heard one.” “I really should go and bake that pie,” Kimber mumbled. I could see the way she fidgeted. Like she was being berated for something wrong. “Look,” Turner stated, swiveling around to face me for the first time since I walked in. “We aren’t from here. We all got a past. Take it or leave it but we’re not fucking judging Kimmy for her weird eccentricities.” “How was yours any better?” Sawyer countered. [[I’m not judging]] [[Are these voices dangerous]] [[How does baking help?]] “I’m not judging,” I said quickly. “I’m a small part of a sentient being who may or may not be asleep. I have a goblin running around on my insides. I willingly chose to come down here without my memories because I wanted to experience love–” “Aw,” Kimber cooed. “I could never judge another for how they are because I am the definition of an oddity. It just caught me off guard. That’s all.” Sawyer reached out, placing a hand on mine. I felt a bolt of heat shoot through me and a momentary burst of lust before it slipped away. “Then welcome to the weird family, honey. I am going to have to give you a makeover, though, because your vibe is completely clashing with our aesthetic.” “Fucking hell,” Turner muttered. “Anyway, I am glad you’re here, $name,” Kimber continued. “Because I feel as a resident of Artisan Alley, you should get your say in this vote too.” “What vote?” “We want to expand,” Sawyer said. “Would be good for business around here.” “We don’t need more fucking business,” Turner grumbled. “You would rather us have no business,” Sawyer pointed out. “We don’t need the money,” he countered. “I don’t want to continue sleeping in the same bed as you, baby doll. So yes we do.” I frowned as I looked between the three of them. “You all share a bed?” Kimber jumped off the table and went to go gather some snacks. “Us and little Ibby. Though ever since Turner got his new beau, he’s hardly home.” “Not true,” Turner protested. “Is true,” Sawyer pointed an accusing finger at him. “And even if it wasn’t, we still need our own places. This alley is our ticket to a better life. We all agreed to that. Now we have to make it better. Which does mean, we need to embrace our montage and revitalize this little strip of land.” “And have more fucking people walking up and down our street? Fuck no.” “You paranoid mother fucker. We are not in that world anymore. We are not in–” “Biscuits!” Kimber interrupted the two of them, slamming a tray of biscuits onto the table and knocking them both out of their fight. Sawyer leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed while Turner destroyed the napkin that was in his hands. “So, $name, what do you think? Should we open our home to others?” [[I don’t think my opinion matters here]] [[What kind of businesses would you want?]] [[I say go for it]] “Are these voices dangerous?” I asked hesitantly. Kimber was manic. Two minutes with her wrote that label across the night sky in blinding neon. But, that didn’t mean she was dangerous. I only worried about the things she could not control. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “They’re not,” Turner came to her defense. “They’re just a part of her. She’s always been responsible with them and she’s always come to us for help when she’s needed it. It’s not a problem.” Sawyer’s hand landed gently on Turner’s shoulder, squeezing. “Down puppy,” he said. “I don’t think $name was about to knife our sweet tart here. It’s a legitimate question.” Turner looked away. Despite Sawyers reassurance it was clear he was protective of her. “I don’t think they’ll be a problem,” Kimber interjected. “They’ve been a lot calmer since coming to the market. I think they like it here.” “Fucking hell,” Turner muttered. “Anyway, I am glad you’re here, $name,” Kimber continued. “Because I feel as a resident of Artisan Alley, you should get your say in this vote too.” “What vote?” “We want to expand,” Sawyer said. “Would be good for business around here.” “We don’t need more fucking business,” Turner grumbled. “You would rather us have no business,” Sawyer pointed out. “We don’t need the money,” he countered. “I don’t want to continue sleeping in the same bed as you, baby doll. So yes we do.” I frowned as I looked between the three of them. “You all share a bed?” Kimber jumped off the table and went to go gather some snacks. “Us and little Ibby. Though ever since Turner got his new beau, he’s hardly home.” “Not true,” Turner protested. “Is true,” Sawyer pointed an accusing finger at him. “And even if it wasn’t, we still need our own places. This alley is our ticket to a better life. We all agreed to that. Now we have to make it better. Which does mean, we need to embrace our montage and revitalize this little strip of land.” “And have more fucking people walking up and down our street? Fuck no.” “You paranoid mother fucker. We are not in that world anymore. We are not in–” “Biscuits!” Kimber interrupted the two of them, slamming a tray of biscuits onto the table and knocking them both out of their fight. Sawyer leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed while Turner destroyed the napkin that was in his hands. “So, $name, what do you think? Should we open our home to others?” [[I don’t think my opinion matters here]] [[What kind of businesses would you want?]] [[I say go for it]] “I think I’m just a little confused as to how baking helps.” I was trying to keep an open mind. Kimber perked up at that. “I’m not sure, actually. I just didn’t even start trying my hand at baking until we came to Artisan Alley. And then suddenly I found out that I was good at it. And the more I did it, the more I realized my brain was silent. So, I just bake and bake and bake and wait for the voices to finally just give up and go home.” I tipped my head to the side. “Are they… real?” “Mmm, I don’t know. I’ve named them all at this point but it could just be a misfiring of my brain. I get the sense that before my loss of memories I was maybe doing some pretty dastardly stuff. So now I make bran muffins and keep the compatrons of the market regular. It won’t make up for any misdeeds I might have committed but it will clean out your digestive system.” “Fucking hell,” Turner muttered. “Anyway, I am glad you’re here, $name,” Kimber continued. “Because I feel as a resident of Artisan Alley, you should get your say in this vote too.” “What vote?” “We want to expand,” Sawyer said. “Would be good for business around here.” “We don’t need more fucking business,” Turner grumbled. “You would rather us have no business,” Sawyer pointed out. “We don’t need the money,” he countered. “I don’t want to continue sleeping in the same bed as you, baby doll. So yes we do.” I frowned as I looked between the three of them. “You all share a bed?” Kimber jumped off the table and went to go gather some snacks. “Us and little Ibby. Though ever since Turner got his new beau, he’s hardly home.” “Not true,” Turner protested. “Is true,” Sawyer pointed an accusing finger at him. “And even if it wasn’t, we still need our own places. This alley is our ticket to a better life. We all agreed to that. Now we have to make it better. Which does mean, we need to embrace our montage and revitalize this little strip of land.” “And have more fucking people walking up and down our street? Fuck no.” “You paranoid mother fucker. We are not in that world anymore. We are not in–” “Biscuits!” Kimber interrupted the two of them, slamming a tray of biscuits onto the table and knocking them both out of their fight. Sawyer leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed while Turner destroyed the napkin that was in his hands. “So, $name, what do you think? Should we open our home to others?” [[I don’t think my opinion matters here]] [[What kind of businesses would you want?]] [[I say go for it]] “I don’t think my opinion matters here,” I said. After all, my presence within this alley had only been a few short days. “Of course it does,” Kimber protested. “This is your home now. Everyone here should get a say in what is happening to their home. Your opinion is just as important as the rest of us.” “Maybe even more so than Turners,” Sawyer quipped. The younger man didn’t look amused and instead glared at Sawyer. “This does not equal a better life for us. It’s not like we’ll be collecting rent. That asshole slum lord would be taking the rent.” “Asshole slum lord?” It was the first I heard of it. Kimber bobbed her head, munching on a biscuit. “Yeah. We don’t really know him. Just have to have our rent to him by the end of every month. We’ve been here a year and he’s raised it three times.” I hadn’t gotten any sort of notice for my little apartment. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about someone owning any part of me. That felt wrong somehow. Like they were renting out little sections of my body. “Have you talked to the Guard about this?” “Fuck the Guard. They’re not allowed to step foot in here.” Turner snatched one of the biscuits and shoved it in his mouth. “Last time they were here they tried to shut us down because we didn’t have a permit or some such fucking bullshit. Had to bribe the fucking velvet ass hat in order to get them to leave.” Kimber nodded sagely. “We do try to keep them away from here, actually. A few minor spells have done the trick. They can’t cross the threshold of the alley unless they sign a waiver meaning no harm.” “Maybe we should just table this entire thing for the moment,” Sawyer said. “It’s on the horizon but we need Herald here to calm Turner’s neurosis.” “And we really should have Malachi here, too,” Kimber said. “I wonder why he didn’t come.” “Because he’s a fucking abysmal dragon who would rather stare moon eyed at his hoard all fucking day.” Standing, Turner brushed the biscuit crumbs from him. “I’m going back to the my clocks.” “Bye Turner baby! Love you!” “Love you, too, Turner!” Kimber yelled. They both cackled as Turner held up his middle finger, exiting the shop. [[Next|Turner]] “What kind of businesses would you want here?” Kimber was back to bouncing excitedly, only this time, in her seat. “Any and all. I think it would be great to just have people here who are really passionate about their craft. The kind of people who know what they are doing and do it well. Niche stores, really. We could become known for that. Drawing in people because they actually need a craftsman. A tight little community in which we all help each other.” “Kimmy is very passionate about this,” Sawyer pointed out. It was partially directed towards Turner. Reminding him not to bash on her dream. Turner began banging his head on the table. “This does not equal a better life for us. It’s not like we’ll be collecting rent. That asshole slum lord would be taking the rent.” “Asshole slum lord?” It was the first I heard of it. Kimber bobbed her head, munching on a biscuit. “Yeah. We don’t really know him. Just have to have our rent to him by the end of every month. We’ve been here a year and he’s raised it three times.” I hadn’t gotten any sort of notice for my little apartment. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about someone owning any part of me. That felt wrong somehow. Like they were renting out little sections of my body. “Have you talked to the Guard about this?” “Fuck the Guard. They’re not allowed to step foot in here.” Turner snatched one of the biscuits and shoved it in his mouth. “Last time they were here they tried to shut us down because we didn’t have a permit or some such fucking bullshit. Had to bribe the fucking velvet ass hat in order to get them to leave.” Kimber nodded sagely. “We do try to keep them away from here, actually. A few minor spells have done the trick. They can’t cross the threshold of the alley unless they sign a waiver meaning no harm.” “Maybe we should just table this entire thing for the moment,” Sawyer said. “It’s on the horizon but we need Herald here to calm Turner’s neurosis.” “And we really should have Malachi here, too,” Kimber said. “I wonder why he didn’t come.” “Because he’s a fucking abysmal dragon who would rather stare moon eyed at his hoard all fucking day.” Standing, Turner brushed the biscuit crumbs from him. “I’m going back to the my clocks.” “Bye Turner baby! Love you!” “Love you, too, Turner!” Kimber yelled. They both cackled as Turner held up his middle finger, exiting the shop. [[Next|Turner]] “I say go for it. It’s not like you’ll be able to bring in that many people. I’ve only seen two empty buildings out there.” “It’ll also be trying to get someone to set up shop in our derelict little neck of the woods,” Sawyer said. “Maybe we should convince an established shop to come here instead.” Turner began banging his head on the table. “This does not equal a better life for us. It’s not like we’ll be collecting rent. That asshole slum lord would be taking the rent.” “Asshole slum lord?” It was the first I heard of it. Kimber bobbed her head, munching on a biscuit. “Yeah. We don’t really know him. Just have to have our rent to him by the end of every month. We’ve been here a year and he’s raised it three times.” I hadn’t gotten any sort of notice for my little apartment. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about someone owning any part of me. That felt wrong somehow. Like they were renting out little sections of my body. “Have you talked to the Guard about this?” “Fuck the Guard. They’re not allowed to step foot in here.” Turner snatched one of the biscuits and shoved it in his mouth. “Last time they were here they tried to shut us down because we didn’t have a permit or some such fucking bullshit. Had to bribe the fucking velvet ass hat in order to get them to leave.” Kimber nodded sagely. “We do try to keep them away from here, actually. A few minor spells have done the trick. They can’t cross the threshold of the alley unless they sign a waiver meaning no harm.” “Maybe we should just table this entire thing for the moment,” Sawyer said. “It’s on the horizon but we need Herald here to calm Turner’s neurosis.” “And we really should have Malachi here, too,” Kimber said. “I wonder why he didn’t come.” “Because he’s a fucking abysmal dragon who would rather stare moon eyed at his hoard all fucking day.” Standing, Turner brushed the biscuit crumbs from him. “I’m going back to the my clocks.” “Bye Turner baby! Love you!” “Love you, too, Turner!” Kimber yelled. They both cackled as Turner held up his middle finger, exiting the shop. [[Next|Turner]] I watched out the window as Turner stopped midway down the alley. He looked tired, head fallen between his shoulders. There was a point where I wondered if Turner was going to snap. I had just barely met the guy and he was wound tighter than one of his clocks. “I really should be getting home,” I told them. “Thank you for the biscuits.” I wished both Sawyer and Kimber goodbye, trying not to look as if I was rushing out to catch up to Turner. But, even as I made my lengthy goodbyes, Turner was still standing there. When I stepped out onto the streets, he didn’t move. I could see the way he was rubbing at his chest, wincing slightly with each pass of his hand. “You okay, Turner?” His hand dropped. “Fuck you. Of course I’m fine.” “I was just asking.” He glared at me. Or maybe that was just how Turner looked. It was really hard to tell at times. “Look, just because I disagree with their stupid business plan doesn’t mean I’m in some sort of dire circumstance. I’m fucking fine.” “Okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “Good.” He kicked at the cobblestone street, brow furrowed. “I don’t fucking get it. We went from running for our lives to business owners. It’s fuckin’ stupid. And no one is going to set up shop here. No one comes here. They’re better off just fucking finding a place to go set up their own shops. Or, at least Kimber would be. Sawyer doesn’t even fucking do anything.” “Kimber’s bakery seems to be doing pretty good where it’s at,” I pointed out. She had clientele that sought her out, even in the dark. And the windows to the Outlands held signs of beasts that came to ask for scones. “I just don’t see why we need more people,” he muttered. “We’re fine as a family. We’ve always been fine as a family.” [[Families grow]] [[Accepting more people doesn’t mean putting yourself in danger]] [[Have you told them that you’re afraid?]] “Families grow,” I pointed out to him. “They don’t stay in the same unit forever.” He glared at me. “As if you know anything about family.” The sting that slapped across my face was raw. Because he was right. What did I know about family? I had no one but the people I called friends and even among them the only one that was more than a year or so old was Pen. That and my sister. But I didn’t want to think of her right now. I didn’t want to even recall her name. “Just think about it, Turner,” I told the man. “Think about it for a day and then go back to them and really talk about it. Maybe if you did that, you could have a little more control over how this is all going to happen. Because whether you are ready for it or not, people are going to come. This is a nice place. Individuals are naturally going to want to spend time here.” It would be nice to have Artisan Alley connected to more. From what I could see, it was just connected to the Graveyard. Beyond that, a winding set of alleyways that didn’t really lead anywhere. There wasn’t a lot of reason for people to come down this way and if anything, Artisan Alley felt like a forgotten little corner of the world. Maybe that was what Turner wanted but for the rest of them, it was sad. They couldn’t integrate into the market like they desired. Kimber was trying and slowly making somewhat headway, but they were still a set of newcomers, looking in on a better life. “What the fuck did you do?” I was startled at Turner’s accusation, looking at him. “Nothing?” “That,” he said with a pointed finger. “Was not there before.” Three solid stone steps lead down to an unassuming door just below the clock shop. The window next to it was dingy and looked like it belonged to a forgotten basement. I struggled to remember if there had been a door there before. Perhaps Turner was just putting me on. “What is it?” he demanded of me. “How should I know?” “Because you obviously put it there!” “I’ve been with you the entire time. How would I have even done that?” “I don’t know. But take it the fuck back.” Sighing, I marched towards the door. Determined to show him that it was nothing. Just a door to a basement he forgot he had. It was probably filled with clock parts and when I turned back around, Turner would already be gone. This was a flimsy excuse to get away from me. [[It's just a basement, Turner]] [[If I created this I need to take a look at it]] [[But, hear me out, what if its something cool]] “Accepting more people into your life doesn’t mean you are putting yourself in danger,” I reasoned with him. “I’m not sure where you all came from but it sounds as if it wasn’t the easiest life. But just because you open yourself up to the possibility of more, doesn’t mean you aren’t protecting yourself. Or protecting them.” I could see the flicker across his face. When it came down to it, I didn’t think that Turner was scared for his own life, but he was scared for the others. Sawyer, Kimber and Iblis. The ones he considered family. There had almost been a loss there and it was a moment that had yet to leave Turner. “Just think about it, Turner,” I told the man. “Think about it for a day and then go back to them and really talk about it. Maybe if you did that, you could have a little more control over how this is all going to happen. Because whether you are ready for it or not, people are going to come. This is a nice place. Individuals are naturally going to want to spend time here.” It would be nice to have Artisan Alley connected to more. From what I could see, it was just connected to the Graveyard. Beyond that, a winding set of alleyways that didn’t really lead anywhere. There wasn’t a lot of reason for people to come down this way and if anything, Artisan Alley felt like a forgotten little corner of the world. Maybe that was what Turner wanted but for the rest of them, it was sad. They couldn’t integrate into the market like they desired. Kimber was trying and slowly making somewhat headway, but they were still a set of newcomers, looking in on a better life. “What the fuck did you do?” I was startled at Turner’s accusation, looking at him. “Nothing?” “That,” he said with a pointed finger. “Was not there before.” Three solid stone steps lead down to an unassuming door just below the clock shop. The window next to it was dingy and looked like it belonged to a forgotten basement. I struggled to remember if there had been a door there before. Perhaps Turner was just putting me on. “What is it?” he demanded of me. “How should I know?” “Because you obviously put it there!” “I’ve been with you the entire time. How would I have even done that?” “I don’t know. But take it the fuck back.” Sighing, I marched towards the door. Determined to show him that it was nothing. Just a door to a basement he forgot he had. It was probably filled with clock parts and when I turned back around, Turner would already be gone. This was a flimsy excuse to get away from me. [[It's just a basement, Turner]] [[If I created this I need to take a look at it]] [[But, hear me out, what if its something cool]] “Have you told them that you’re afraid?” I asked. His head whipped up and his surprise morphed into another patented glare. “I’m not fucking afraid.” “You kind of are acting afraid,” I told him. “I’m not.” “Then why fight so hard against something they want and wouldn’t affect your life?” “It would affect my life,” he yelled. “People would be coming and going. They would want to buy clocks. They would know where we live!” Fear. It was a response so steeped in it that Turner couldn’t even see his way out. “Just think about it, Turner,” I told the man. “Think about it for a day and then go back to them and really talk about it. Maybe if you did that, you could have a little more control over how this is all going to happen. Because whether you are ready for it or not, people are going to come. This is a nice place. Individuals are naturally going to want to spend time here.” It would be nice to have Artisan Alley connected to more. From what I could see, it was just connected to the Graveyard. Beyond that, a winding set of alleyways that didn’t really lead anywhere. There wasn’t a lot of reason for people to come down this way and if anything, Artisan Alley felt like a forgotten little corner of the world. Maybe that was what Turner wanted but for the rest of them, it was sad. They couldn’t integrate into the market like they desired. Kimber was trying and slowly making somewhat headway, but they were still a set of newcomers, looking in on a better life. “What the fuck did you do?” I was startled at Turner’s accusation, looking at him. “Nothing?” “That,” he said with a pointed finger. “Was not there before.” Three solid stone steps lead down to an unassuming door just below the clock shop. The window next to it was dingy and looked like it belonged to a forgotten basement. I struggled to remember if there had been a door there before. Perhaps Turner was just putting me on. “What is it?” he demanded of me. “How should I know?” “Because you obviously put it there!” “I’ve been with you the entire time. How would I have even done that?” “I don’t know. But take it the fuck back.” Sighing, I marched towards the door. Determined to show him that it was nothing. Just a door to a basement he forgot he had. It was probably filled with clock parts and when I turned back around, Turner would already be gone. This was a flimsy excuse to get away from me. [[It's just a basement, Turner]] [[If I created this I need to take a look at it]] [[But, hear me out, what if its something cool]] The water was cool beneath my feet, trickling down the stone walls and echoing through the tunnel. Large and twisting aqueducts stretched out in every direction from me, the remnants of several staircases crumbled into their sides. I turned around in a complete circle, trying to find a direction to proceed. My heart seized as I momentarily believed that I had been tricked. Tossed aside because I did not belong in Nebula and then banished to the deepest recesses of a painting that was drawn on by victims of the market. Except that no one in Nebula was a Gate Keeper. They couldn't do that. And this smelled like the Night Market. As my eyes adjusted, I began to take in my surroundings. The water was flowing past me, swirling into several off shoots of tunnels and colliding into small whirlpools where the stream got stuck. [[Try to find the water source]] [[Find where the water is flowing]] I began wandering the stream, trying to find the source of the water. The water came up to just beneath my knees, weighing down my clothes and making my steps slower. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady myself as the current grew a bit stronger. The lights up above were embedded into the ceiling of the tunnel, softly glowing but not casting enough light to really show me where I was. I passed several openings, however. More meandering tunnels that lead off into similar looking routes, and slowly was having to resign myself to the fact that I may be lost in this maze somewhere within my own world. Oddly, it wouldn’t be the first time. The further I went, the higher the water rose. But the tunnels just kept going on and on, twisting and turning until they began to loop back on themselves. I couldn’t tell any longer where I came out from. But as I stopped, leaning against a wall to catch my breath, I saw something floating in the water. My head was muzzy enough that I thought it to be a log of some sort. But as it meandered past me, the bloated hand of a corpse brushed against my thighs. A thick mass of hair drifting languidly all around it. I felt my heart freeze as the body disappeared, dipping beneath the water to be sucked into one of the drains. I stayed there for a long moment, taking stock of myself. I had no idea how I was even going to get out of here. <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> might have led me to my death and I had just blindly followed. Because that’s what I did, wasn’t it? Just blindly followed. Didn’t question. Wasn’t that why I was incorporeal? Without the ability to touch the ones I loved. To help. To live. The sloshing of water echoed around me, getting louder and louder. A woman was humming, floating nearby. “Oh, hello,” she grinned. “Have you seen my body?” I blinked at her, seeing right through her. I could do nothing but point. “Down the drain then? Oh, pity.” She kept floating, following in her body's wake. “Do you need directions before I get sucked down?” “Yes?” “Right then. Just head up this tunnel and follow the flow of water. You’re going to find a naked woman hanging midair. You’ll know you’re in the right place then.” She began sinking into the water, her head the only thing not submerged. “Thank you,” I said. “I– what’s your name? Can I help you in anyway?” “Oh,” she said, a bit surprised. “Yes. Could you please find who killed me?” “What did they look like?” “They–” She gurgled as she suddenly got sucked under the water. There was nothing left of her, leaving me to wonder if she had ever existed at all. [[Next|Find where the water is flowing]] <<set $starghost to "true">> I began to follow a passage downstream. The tunnel walls were smooth and kept me steady as I walked with the current, feeling the stream lift my feet and buoy each step. The lights never faltered and after the town of Nebula, I was beginning to forget about how the lanterns had gone out. How the market that I knew was cast in darkness right now with unreliable flickering flames from large wax candles to guide them. It was only by accident that I stumbled upon the right passage. The light was brighter here and as I stepped forward, the passageway widened until it opened up into a large and cavernous sandstone chamber. Water flowed in from the dozens of other passageways scattered about both floor and ceiling. But instead of falling with the flow of gravity, they shot in straight lines to the center of the room. There, hung a star. And she was beautiful. The star was in the shape of a woman, curled into a fetal position, nude and at least thirty feet tall. She hung midair, suspended by unseen forces. I stood beneath her and as I reached up to run my fingers across such an alluring beauty, I felt my heart ache with just how far away it truly was. The woman's face was tucked into her knees, her gossamer hair drifting all around the room in silver silken tendrils. The water from the different tunnels all lead to her, wrapping around her body like an orb before finally falling back down and draining into a large metal grate on the floor hundreds of feet even below me. “What am I even looking at?” I whispered. My voice bounced through the room before it disappeared within the roar of water. [[Examine the woman more closely]] [[Look for a door out]] [[Try to reach out for signs of life]] <<set $starghost to "false">> I moved as close as I could to look at the statue. The water obscured most of her details and flowed down beside her pleasingly. But as I continued to stare, I could have sworn I saw her breathing. There was no rhythmic motion but everyone once in a while I thought I saw her body expand and contract. It was so subtle, however, that I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks on me. The urge to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. She was magnetic. Calling to me. I found my hand outstretched to try and just exist in her presence. But, I could touch nothing but air. I don’t know how long I stared at it but eventually, I willed myself to rise and leave. I walked towards the smooth walls, trailing my fingers across them until I found a gate. It was made of iron and swung beneath the palm of my hand with ease. I walked upwards, the sound of water filtering out as the sounds of people began to mingle in. When I reached the top of the landing, I nearly ran into a couple. They smiled at me politely as I gasped an apology. Large walls that were made of archways lined the hall I had appeared in. Beautiful cobalt blue metal lanterns hung within each loop and the sandy floors were covered with woven rugs in various cool colors. I stepped further into this new place, my eyes catching on small details. Runes were carved into the sandstone in no discernable order. Little alcoves had been carved out to make way for shops where wares were sold on thick blankets. And all around me were people walking around, living their life. It was different from some place such as the Spice District. Here, they looked as if they were gathering things for their dinner. Picking up clothes that were mended. Speaking quietly to others and seeking comfort. “Hello.” I turned, spotting a bronze skinned woman with tight braids running down her back. Her skin shifted within the light, peeking out from beneath the blue and gold wrap she wore. “Hello,” I greeted her. She had a soft smile. Something that had been well practiced. “I’m Estelle,” she said with a slight bow. The bangles on her wrist jangled with the movement. “You are new here.” “How can you tell?” “The clothing,” she said with a soft smile. When I looked at the others here, I noticed that most of them wore soft uniforms. Loose pants and a tunic or beautiful robes like Estelle. I looked down at my own clothing. While not elaborate, it didn’t give the same decadent softness that the ones here did. “Is it required to wear something like that?” I asked. “We don’t force any of our compatrons to do anything they do not wish to. But, it is encouraged. Most find that they prefer our clothes over theirs. It helps get them in the right mindset.” Before I could even ask what she meant by such a thing, her head tilted to the side, her expression faltering. “You don’t know where you are?” “I came through a mural,” I told her. A dawning recognition came over her. “From Nebula then. <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> must have sent you. Is the village in need of trade? They were not supposed to come through for a few more days.” [[I’m not from Nebula]] [[I’m trying to get back to the Night Market]] [[So they’re not exiled?]] <<set $star to "bonded">> The cavern looked well maintained. This was not some sort of abandoned area of the market. This place was cared for and attended. There had to be a way out. Careful not to fall into the cavernous depths, I stepped around, trying to keep close to the wall. The walls felt like polished marble and only where the water was at its highest did bits of it crumble beneath my fingers. Eventually, I found the one lone section in which the water did not flow. A door stood before me, slightly raised from the ground I stood on. A double wide iron gate laid two steps into the wall with no lock to speak of. That I could just push it open felt like an anomaly to me. I had been expecting resistance for such a strange and mystical room. Instead, a staircase ascended before me, leading me up to a well little passage above. I walked upwards, the sound of water filtering out as the sounds of people began to mingle in. When I reached the top of the landing, I nearly ran into a couple. They smiled at me politely as I gasped an apology. Large walls that were made of archways lined the hall I had appeared in. Beautiful cobalt blue metal lanterns hung within each loop and the sandy floors were covered with woven rugs in various cool colors. I stepped further into this new place, my eyes catching on small details. Runes were carved into the sandstone in no discernable order. Little alcoves had been carved out to make way for shops where wares were sold on thick blankets. And all around me were people walking around, living their life. It was different from some place such as the Spice District. Here, they looked as if they were gathering things for their dinner. Picking up clothes that were mended. Speaking quietly to others and seeking comfort. “Hello.” I turned, spotting a bronze skinned woman with tight braids running down her back. Her skin shifted within the light, peeking out from beneath the blue and gold wrap she wore. “Hello,” I greeted her. She had a soft smile. Something that had been well practiced. “I’m Estelle,” she said with a slight bow. The bangles on her wrist jangled with the movement. “You are new here.” “How can you tell?” “The clothing,” she said with a soft smile. When I looked at the others here, I noticed that most of them wore soft uniforms. Loose pants and a tunic or beautiful robes like Estelle. I looked down at my own clothing. While not elaborate, it didn’t give the same decadent softness that the ones here did. “Is it required to wear something like that?” I asked. “We don’t force any of our compatrons to do anything they do not wish to. But, it is encouraged. Most find that they prefer our clothes over theirs. It helps get them in the right mindset.” Before I could even ask what she meant by such a thing, her head tilted to the side, her expression faltering. “You don’t know where you are?” “I came through a mural,” I told her. A dawning recognition came over her. “From Nebula then. <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> must have sent you. Is the village in need of trade? They were not supposed to come through for a few more days.” [[I’m not from Nebula]] [[I’m trying to get back to the Night Market]] [[So they’re not exiled?]] I pushed out, searching for signs of life. The star looked dormant but had the flush of life coursing through it. I reached out with what little power I had, willing one eye to open or an expulsion of breath to ghost against me. The water roared so loud it would have been hard to hear anything else. But I could feel it. I could feel the way the star clung to the world while still having one foot somewhere else. It was a lost being. Someone stuck. I felt such kinship to it that I felt my throat tighten. I had nothing to offer this star though. No gift. No thought. Even my power felt like a drop compared to the gravity before me. I had to leave but I wanted to kneel before such beauty. Allowing it to wrap itself safely around me. To protect me. Because that is what this star was. A sense of comfort in the long dark. I don’t know how long I stared at it but eventually, I willed myself to rise and leave. I walked towards the smooth walls, trailing my fingers across them until I found a gate. It was made of iron and swung beneath the palm of my hand with ease. I walked upwards, the sound of water filtering out as the sounds of people began to mingle in. When I reached the top of the landing, I nearly ran into a couple. They smiled at me politely as I gasped an apology. Large walls that were made of archways lined the hall I had appeared in. Beautiful cobalt blue metal lanterns hung within each loop and the sandy floors were covered with woven rugs in various cool colors. I stepped further into this new place, my eyes catching on small details. Runes were carved into the sandstone in no discernable order. Little alcoves had been carved out to make way for shops where wares were sold on thick blankets. And all around me were people walking around, living their life. It was different from some place such as the Spice District. Here, they looked as if they were gathering things for their dinner. Picking up clothes that were mended. Speaking quietly to others and seeking comfort. “Hello.” I turned, spotting a bronze skinned woman with tight braids running down her back. Her skin shifted within the light, peeking out from beneath the blue and gold wrap she wore. “Hello,” I greeted her. She had a soft smile. Something that had been well practiced. “I’m Estelle,” she said with a slight bow. The bangles on her wrist jangled with the movement. “You are new here.” “How can you tell?” “The clothing,” she said with a soft smile. When I looked at the others here, I noticed that most of them wore soft uniforms. Loose pants and a tunic or beautiful robes like Estelle. I looked down at my own clothing. While not elaborate, it didn’t give the same decadent softness that the ones here did. “Is it required to wear something like that?” I asked. “We don’t force any of our compatrons to do anything they do not wish to. But, it is encouraged. Most find that they prefer our clothes over theirs. It helps get them in the right mindset.” Before I could even ask what she meant by such a thing, her head tilted to the side, her expression faltering. “You don’t know where you are?” “I came through a mural,” I told her. A dawning recognition came over her. “From Nebula then. <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> must have sent you. Is the village in need of trade? They were not supposed to come through for a few more days.” [[I’m not from Nebula]] [[I’m trying to get back to the Night Market]] [[So they’re not exiled?]] <<set $star to "bonded">>“I’m not from Nebula.” Her laugh was warm and inviting. “Few rarely are. But come. Follow me. Let’s get to the bottom of this moment, shall we?” I followed her down another series of ‘halls’ all of which were merely separated with arches. She took me up a few stone steps, her feet not quite touching the ground as she stepped up the chipped stairs. The next room we appeared in smelled of lavender and eucalyptus. Through several doorways the fragrant billowing of steam wafted from within, large copper sunken tubs centered in the middle of each room. Piles of fluffy towels were stuffed in overflowing baskets and large robes hung from bronze hooks outside of each door. Estelle stopped in front of a long counter where a woman that looked eerily like her, sat behind. “Welcome to the Star Sanctuary,” the woman behind the counter said. “How long is your stay?” I looked at the woman closely, noticing how the only key difference between her and the one that had led me here was her hair. “Peace,” Estelle said to the woman. “I think this one is lost. I was just bringing ?them up top for help.” “Oh,” the counter Estelle said. “Carry on.” Estelle gestured to a small table off to the side, one that was surrounded by big leaf philodendrons. I sat across from her, my eyes ticking across the room looking for a window. “As my counterpart exclaimed, welcome to the Star Sanctuary,” Estelle said. “Though, I take it that means nothing to you.” “It doesn’t. I’m sorry.” “No,” she said with a bit of a frown. “Oh, please don’t be sorry. We pride our secrecy here. I am merely surprised <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> directed you through.” [[I don't think I was welcomed any longer]] [[It sounded like the safest way to get home]] [[I had no idea what she was even doing]] “I’m trying to get back to the Night Market,” I told her. “Is this… is that here?” “You are within the Night Market,” she told me. Her voice had a pleasant cadence to it. “Though, perhaps not in the way you think. Come. Follow me and we will talk some more.” I followed her down another series of ‘halls’ all of which were merely separated with arches. She took me up a few stone steps, her feet not quite touching the ground as she stepped up the chipped stairs. The next room we appeared in smelled of lavender and eucalyptus. Through several doorways the fragrant billowing of steam wafted from within, large copper sunken tubs centered in the middle of each room. Piles of fluffy towels were stuffed in overflowing baskets and large robes hung from bronze hooks outside of each door. Estelle stopped in front of a long counter where a woman that looked eerily like her, sat behind. “Welcome to the Star Sanctuary,” the woman behind the counter said. “How long is your stay?” I looked at the woman closely, noticing how the only key difference between her and the one that had led me here was her hair. “Peace,” Estelle said to the woman. “I think this one is lost. I was just bringing ?them up top for help.” “Oh,” the counter Estelle said. “Carry on.” Estelle gestured to a small table off to the side, one that was surrounded by big leaf philodendrons. I sat across from her, my eyes ticking across the room looking for a window. “As my counterpart exclaimed, welcome to the Star Sanctuary,” Estelle said. “Though, I take it that means nothing to you.” “It doesn’t. I’m sorry.” “No,” she said with a bit of a frown. “Oh, please don’t be sorry. We pride our secrecy here. I am merely surprised <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> directed you through.” [[I don't think I was welcomed any longer]] [[It sounded like the safest way to get home]] [[I had no idea what she was even doing]] “If they get trade from you, then they must not be truly exiled. That, or this is another exiled community.” She gestured with her arm, asking silently for me to walk with her. While the people around us were not listening in, I got the sense that she didn’t want to advertise Nebula’s location. I followed her down another series of ‘halls’ all of which were merely separated with arches. She took me up a few stone steps, her feet not quite touching the ground as she stepped up the chipped stairs. The next room we appeared in smelled of lavender and eucalyptus. Through several doorways the fragrant billowing of steam wafted from within, large copper sunken tubs centered in the middle of each room. Piles of fluffy towels were stuffed in overflowing baskets and large robes hung from bronze hooks outside of each door. Estelle stopped in front of a long counter where a woman that looked eerily like her, sat behind. “Welcome to the Star Sanctuary,” the woman behind the counter said. “How long is your stay?” I looked at the woman closely, noticing how the only key difference between her and the one that had led me here was her hair. “Peace,” Estelle said to the woman. “I think this one is lost. I was just bringing ?them up top for help.” “Oh,” the counter Estelle said. “Carry on.” Estelle gestured to a small table off to the side, one that was surrounded by big leaf philodendrons. I sat across from her, my eyes ticking across the room looking for a window. “As my counterpart exclaimed, welcome to the Star Sanctuary,” Estelle said. “Though, I take it that means nothing to you.” “It doesn’t. I’m sorry.” “No,” she said with a bit of a frown. “Oh, please don’t be sorry. We pride our secrecy here. I am merely surprised <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> directed you through.” [[I don't think I was welcomed any longer]] [[It sounded like the safest way to get home]] [[I had no idea what she was even doing]] “I don’t think I was welcomed any longer. I got the sense the community was protecting itself." “Most certainly,” Estelle said. “I will have to go and check on them later. A stranger wandering into their home must be most unnerving. And <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> has always taken the protection of others to heart." A star that was chipped upon a mural. I doubted anyone would think it was a passageway. “Tell me,” Estelle said. “Were you brought here beneath the star? Was it easy to find your way up to the Sanctuary. I’ve had a bit of a concern late about people traveling through.” “I was close to it but still a bit off.” Her frown deepened. “Concerning indeed. Thank you for bringing me this information. I will have to take a look at the aqueducts down there. I do not wish for anyone else to use their passages and get lost.” “Can you tell me where exactly I am?” She sat up a bit straighter, her gaze coming back to mine. She had deep, fathomless blue eyes with flecks of silver in them. “The Star Sanctuary is a hidden spot within the Night Market. Surrounded by a source of power that does not allow just anyone in. This is a place of peace and comfort. Many come here when they need healing. Or when they need a respite from the world. If someone tries to enter through these doors with ill deeds upon their heart, they are rebuffed.” “So, is it like a hospital?” “For some, perhaps. But I think of it more as a place to heal the mind. Ones that are in need of sanctuary, to hide from others, often come here for a spell. We provided food and shelter and in return, they work here, keeping our community running.” “So a safe haven then.” “Yes.” “How do you decide who deserves to be here?” “I don’t. The walls do. Only those worthy of safety are provided for. There is no violence within these walls. I have made sure of that. And there is no way to go out into the world and trade the knowledge of who remains here.” She smiled softly at me. “I assume, if you are here, you are in need of us. Will you answer me a curiosity?” “I suppose.” She leaned forward, her forearms resting upon the table, her hands clasped together. “Are you the Night Market?” [[I go by something else]] [[I am]] [[How did you know?]] “It sounded like this was the safest way to get myself back home. Without alerting the Velvet Guard, at least. <<if $nebula == "Cyrilla">>Cyrilla <<elseif $nebula == "Dae">>Dae <<elseif $nebula == "Grisette">> Griesette<</if>> seemed pretty adamant that the guard shouldn’t know of their existence any longer and continue to think of them as a lost community.” Estelle hummed in confirmation of my musings. “The guard has not been kind to many that are out there. It would take a great show of faith to get them working together again. For now, they most likely wish to just be left alone. Nebula is one of the more vibrant communities out there. They are fortunate.” “It did look like a thriving town as opposed to a prison of sorts.” “Tell me,” Estelle said. “Were you brought here beneath the star? Was it easy to find your way up to the Sanctuary. I’ve had a bit of a concern late about people traveling through.” “I was close to it but still a bit off.” Her frown deepened. “Concerning indeed. Thank you for bringing me this information. I will have to take a look at the aqueducts down there. I do not wish for anyone else to use their passages and get lost.” “Can you tell me where exactly I am?” She sat up a bit straighter, her gaze coming back to mine. She had deep, fathomless blue eyes with flecks of silver in them. “The Star Sanctuary is a hidden spot within the Night Market. Surrounded by a source of power that does not allow just anyone in. This is a place of peace and comfort. Many come here when they need healing. Or when they need a respite from the world. If someone tries to enter through these doors with ill deeds upon their heart, they are rebuffed.” “So, is it like a hospital?” “For some, perhaps. But I think of it more as a place to heal the mind. Ones that are in need of sanctuary, to hide from others, often come here for a spell. We provided food and shelter and in return, they work here, keeping our community running.” “So a safe haven then.” “Yes.” “How do you decide who deserves to be here?” “I don’t. The walls do. Only those worthy of safety are provided for. There is no violence within these walls. I have made sure of that. And there is no way to go out into the world and trade the knowledge of who remains here.” She smiled softly at me. “I assume, if you are here, you are in need of us. Will you answer me a curiosity?” “I suppose.” She leaned forward, her forearms resting upon the table, her hands clasped together. “Are you the Night Market?” [[I go by something else]] [[I am]] [[How did you know?]] “If it's any comfort, I had no idea what she was even doing. Or what I was supposed to do when I wound up here.” Estelle looked a bit puzzled by that. “I will have to go check on her later. For her not to give you guidance does not sound like her. I do wonder what it was about.” “She was worried about the Velvet Guard coming back through.” “Aw, yes, that will do it. Though the sanctuary should have released you just beneath the star. Did it not?” “I was close to it but still a bit off.” Her frown deepened. “Concerning indeed. Thank you for bringing me this information. I will have to take a look at the aqueducts down there. I do not wish for anyone else to use their passages and get lost.” “Can you tell me where exactly I am?” She sat up a bit straighter, her gaze coming back to mine. She had deep, fathomless blue eyes with flecks of silver in them. “The Star Sanctuary is a hidden spot within the Night Market. Surrounded by a source of power that does not allow just anyone in. This is a place of peace and comfort. Many come here when they need healing. Or when they need a respite from the world. If someone tries to enter through these doors with ill deeds upon their heart, they are rebuffed.” “So, is it like a hospital?” “For some, perhaps. But I think of it more as a place to heal the mind. Ones that are in need of sanctuary, to hide from others, often come here for a spell. We provided food and shelter and in return, they work here, keeping our community running.” “So a safe haven then.” “Yes.” “How do you decide who deserves to be here?” “I don’t. The walls do. Only those worthy of safety are provided for. There is no violence within these walls. I have made sure of that. And there is no way to go out into the world and trade the knowledge of who remains here.” She smiled softly at me. “I assume, if you are here, you are in need of us. Will you answer me a curiosity?” “I suppose.” She leaned forward, her forearms resting upon the table, her hands clasped together. “Are you the Night Market?” [[I go by something else]] [[I am]] [[How did you know?]] “I go by something else now.” It was hard to explain. I was not ashamed of what I was, but it also didn’t feel like me. It felt like a nebulous force that was hovering just outside of my periphery. I knew it. I could even feel it at times. But I didn’t identify with it. “$name, correct? I have heard of your wanderings,” the woman said with a familiar smile. ““Let me rewind. I am Estelle. The proprietor of the Star Sanctuary. As you may have noticed there are many of my kind wandering around here with similar visages. That is because we are all ‘born’ from the same star.” I paused. “The woman down in the aqueducts.” “Precisely.” Estelle seemed pleased. “I crashed here a long time ago. Falling from the sky and burning up several planets as I went. When I hit the night Market, hit //you//, I fused with a part of the world. I spent some time sleeping, trying to repair my body but when I awoke, I was within a fever. You came down a long time ago and set up the aqueducts to cool my body. Though, I do not think you knew what was to happen from there.” “Wait. So you know me?” “Different look. Different personality, perhaps. But I do recognize that it is you,” she confirmed. It was the first time anyone had spoken of me coming down before. Those memories were still lost to me. But I had cradled a star once, and created an environment for her to survive. “After some time,” Estelle continued, “I decided that I wished to be far more a part of the world instead of sitting within the water. And I remember you. So I began to make different forms of myself. When enough were made, we created the Star Sanctuary. And together, we were able to give back to the community you worked so tirelessly to protect.” “So you’re a star?” “I am,” she smiled. [[Any perks with being a star]] [[I’m kind of in awe]] [[Why did you choose to stay]] “I am,” I said without shame. I remembered a time when it had felt like a secret. Something to keep in order to protect me from danger. Now, I wanted to name myself proudly. To not hide who I was any longer. I didn’t wish to be on the outside looking in on my life and the beauty that I housed. “It is good to see you again,” Estelle said with a small bow. “I am sure you do not remember me, however, so let me rewind.I am Estelle. The proprietor of the Star Sanctuary. As you may have noticed there are many of my kind wandering around here with similar visages. That is because we are all ‘born’ from the same star.” I paused. “The woman down in the aqueducts.” “Precisely.” Estelle seemed pleased. “I crashed here a long time ago. Falling from the sky and burning up several planets as I went. When I hit the night Market, hit //you//, I fused with a part of the world. I spent some time sleeping, trying to repair my body but when I awoke, I was within a fever. You came down a long time ago and set up the aqueducts to cool my body. Though, I do not think you knew what was to happen from there.” “Wait. So you know me?” “Different look. Different personality, perhaps. But I do recognize that it is you,” she confirmed. It was the first time anyone had spoken of me coming down before. Those memories were still lost to me. But I had cradled a star once, and created an environment for her to survive. “After some time,” Estelle continued, “I decided that I wished to be far more a part of the world instead of sitting within the water. And I remember you. So I began to make different forms of myself. When enough were made, we created the Star Sanctuary. And together, we were able to give back to the community you worked so tirelessly to protect.” “So you’re a star?” “I am,” she smiled. [[Any perks with being a star]] [[I’m kind of in awe]] [[Why did you choose to stay]] “How did you know?” “You have an aura about you. Something that the others do not have. That, and I can recognize a kindred spirit when I see one.” “Excuse me.” She ducked her head, a knowing smile across her lips. “Let me rewind. I am Estelle. The proprietor of the Star Sanctuary. As you may have noticed there are many of my kind wandering around here with similar visages. That is because we are all ‘born’ from the same star.” I paused. “The woman down in the aqueducts.” “Precisely.” Estelle seemed pleased. “I crashed here a long time ago. Falling from the sky and burning up several planets as I went. When I hit the night Market, hit //you//, I fused with a part of the world. I spent some time sleeping, trying to repair my body but when I awoke, I was within a fever. You came down a long time ago and set up the aqueducts to cool my body. Though, I do not think you knew what was to happen from there.” “Wait. So you know me?” “Different look. Different personality, perhaps. But I do recognize that it is you,” she confirmed. It was the first time anyone had spoken of me coming down before. Those memories were still lost to me. But I had cradled a star once, and created an environment for her to survive. “After some time,” Estelle continued, “I decided that I wished to be far more a part of the world instead of sitting within the water. And I remember you. So I began to make different forms of myself. When enough were made, we created the Star Sanctuary. And together, we were able to give back to the community you worked so tirelessly to protect.” “So you’re a star?” “I am,” she smiled. [[Any perks with being a star]] [[I’m kind of in awe]] [[Why did you choose to stay]] “Any perks with being a star?” I asked. So far, it felt as if there were none to being the Night Market but I wondered if I had just gotten the short end of the stick. “I can see very well in the night,” she mused. “And speak celestial.” I paused at that. “Like the Knowing?” The laugh that followed was unbidden and wild. Estelle quickly covered her mouth, trying to calm the mirth in her mind. “No,” she said simply, the corners of her lips quirking. “No. The Knowing is not as ancient as the old celestial races. Though they very much wish they were and would like everyone to believe thus.” “I have a friend you should talk to about that,” I said, thinking of Gabriel in his stalwart belief in the very society that had cast him aside. “Oh, if it is the friend I think you are referring to, I doubt there would be much listening. Men like that often don’t even believe in my origin. And it isn’t as if I could go home and prove its existence.” “So you’re here to stay then.” She looked around the small seating area with reverence. Pride shone so bright in her eyes it was blinding. “I have purpose here. At home I did not.” I felt similar. Like the person I was back in my own body was just biding time. Allowing people to walk among me but never able to contribute. The body I was in now, felt far more useful. “Is it odd being a construct?” “I haven’t really thought about it,” Estelle mused. “I suppose that is what I am but I’ve never considered myself as much. The star that you saw is not fully functioning any longer. I do not think I could even go back to it. Yet, I suppose it may house some consciousness.” It was the questions I had of my own body. When I had “died” I hadn’t gone back to the source, if you will. I had walked in limbo with nowhere to go. And with the way the Night Market was behaving, part of me wondered if the consciousness that should have been making the decisions, wasn’t present at all. “You seem lost, Night Market,” Estelle said. “Is there anything I can help you with?” [[A way back to Artisan Alley]] [[A way to speak with my higher self]] [[Maybe just a spa day]] “I’m kind of in awe of you, to be honest.” Estelle’s smile was bright and full. “Oh?” “What you’ve managed to do without actually being attached to your body? It’s impressive. I didn’t know it was possible. I didn’t even know this was here.” “You did,” she laughed. “But there is so much that your mind contains. I do not blame you for having this one slip your mind. Especially when I asked you to keep us a secret.” It was a marvel. I could feel the familiarity. The way she knew me. Our conversation, effortless. I wished I could remember all the times before I had seen her. “Either way, I hope you are here to stay. The Market could use someone like you.” “I don’t think I could go back even if I wanted,” she confessed. “ And I suppose there is a part of me that does not want to.” She looked around the small seating area with reverence. Pride shone so bright in her eyes it was blinding. “I have purpose here. At home I did not.” I felt similar. Like the person I was back in my own body was just biding time. Allowing people to walk among me but never able to contribute. The body I was in now, felt far more useful. “Is it odd being a construct?” “I haven’t really thought about it,” Estelle mused. “I suppose that is what I am but I’ve never considered myself as much. The star that you saw is not fully functioning any longer. I do not think I could even go back to it. Yet, I suppose it may house some consciousness.” It was the questions I had of my own body. When I had “died” I hadn’t gone back to the source, if you will. I had walked in limbo with nowhere to go. And with the way the Night Market was behaving, part of me wondered if the consciousness that should have been making the decisions, wasn’t present at all. “You seem lost, Night Market,” Estelle said. “Is there anything I can help you with?” [[A way back to Artisan Alley]] [[A way to speak with my higher self]] [[Maybe just a spa day]] “Why did you choose to stay here? Could you not return to your home?” “I’m afraid not,” she said sadly. “My home may not exist any longer. I’ve looked to the sky on the nights my galaxy should have been visible but have only seen the blackness through the blanket you have layered our world with.” “Our sky is not our sky,” I said with a sudden realization. It was a fact that I knew. I had always known it. But it has slipped far from me and was a wisp just waiting to return to thought. “No. Not truly. There are areas of course that you can see beyond but most of the time there is only blackness.” I shivered. Such dark and desperate despair. Disguised as warm velvet. Yet it shivered across the skin in an oily embrace. “Either way, I don’t think I could bring myself back to the sky. And I suppose there is a part of me that does not want to.” She looked around the small seating area with reverence. Pride shone so bright in her eyes it was blinding. “I have purpose here. At home I did not.” I felt similar. Like the person I was back in my own body was just biding time. Allowing people to walk among me but never able to contribute. The body I was in now, felt far more useful. “Is it odd being a construct?” “I haven’t really thought about it,” Estelle mused. “I suppose that is what I am but I’ve never considered myself as much. The star that you saw is not fully functioning any longer. I do not think I could even go back to it. Yet, I suppose it may house some consciousness.” It was the questions I had of my own body. When I had “died” I hadn’t gone back to the source, if you will. I had walked in limbo with nowhere to go. And with the way the Night Market was behaving, part of me wondered if the consciousness that should have been making the decisions, wasn’t present at all. “You seem lost, Night Market,” Estelle said. “Is there anything I can help you with?” [[A way back to Artisan Alley]] [[A way to speak with my higher self]] [[Maybe just a spa day]] “I need to get back to Artisan Alley,” I told her. “I left abruptly and for all they know, I walked off the face of the market. I don’t want anyone to worry.” “Is that the cute new alley that popped up with the bakery in it? Kimbers, correct? I just love her mulberry scones.” “I’ll be sure to tell her you said so. She’ll most likely make a care package for you and send it over right away.” We both rose from our seats. The furlough into the depths of the market was nice, but it was time to get home. The sudden entrance of an individual who had little regard to where they were going interrupted us, however. We heard him slam into the wall and curse under his breath before he even came into view. “Estelle, I don’t know what you’ve got down there but it’s stuck pretty thick. I’m going to need a few new lanterns before I head down any further.” It was Milo. He was standing in front of me in loose tan sweats and a large tunic that fell low on one shoulder. He had something in his hands that he was staring at, hardly even looking our way as he came into the room. “I told you, Milo,” Estelle said. “Whatever you need to do. It is imperative that we do not allow those tunnels to be blocked.” “I know. I know. It’s just–” When he lifted his head, his words fell off. He stared back at me, frozen in place. The only thing separating us was Estelle. [[I thought you said no harbored criminals could be here]] [[Sorry. I need to go]] [[So this is why no one could find you]] “A way to speak to my higher self would be great.” I was only partially joking. There had to be a way to connect back. At the very least, to simply gain some perspective. Whether or not I was cut off from myself for a reason was still in question. And there was a part of me that worried. Worried not only that Milo had done something to keep me apart, but that it was irreparable. “I will work on that,” Estelle said, though I could see in her eyes how she didn’t look confident in what she would find. “Until then, please. Let me show you around the sanctuary a bit more. I think you’ll find that it is quite to your liking.” We both rose from our seats, ready to continue the tour, when we were interrupted by the sudden entrance of an individual who had little regard to where they were going. We heard him slam into the wall and curse under his breath before he even came into view. “Estelle, I don’t know what you’ve got down there but it’s stuck pretty thick. I’m going to need a few new lanterns before I head down any further.” It was Milo. He was standing in front of me in loose tan sweats and a large tunic that fell low on one shoulder. He had something in his hands that he was staring at, hardly even looking our way as he came into the room. “I told you, Milo,” Estelle said. “Whatever you need to do. It is imperative that we do not allow those tunnels to be blocked.” “I know. I know. It’s just–” When he lifted his head, his words fell off. He stared back at me, frozen in place. The only thing separating us was Estelle. [[I thought you said no harbored criminals could be here]] [[Sorry. I need to go]] [[So this is why no one could find you]] “Honestly, maybe just a spa day,” I laughed. “It would be nice to sit and relax. I’ll even do something here in return since you said most people work for the services.” “Do not be silly,” Estelle admonished. “You are the hardest working individual here. You literally are the home we place ourselves upon. I think we can spare some hot water and a chance at relaxation.” She pushed herself from her seat, motioning for me to follow. The eagerness I felt for this woman to take me to some luxurious sandstone room where I could soak within a tub for the next few hours, was nigh overwhelming. It was interrupted, however, by the entrance of someone new. Their head was bent with purpose and with little regard of where they were going. “Estelle, I don’t know what you’ve got down there but it’s stuck pretty thick. I’m going to need a few new lanterns before I head down any further.” It was Milo. He was standing in front of me in loose tan sweats and a large tunic that fell low on one shoulder. He had something in his hands that he was staring at, hardly even looking our way as he came into the room. “I told you, Milo,” Estelle said. “Whatever you need to do. It is imperative that we do not allow those tunnels to be blocked.” “I know. I know. It’s just–” When he lifted his head, his words fell off. He stared back at me, frozen in place. The only thing separating us was Estelle. [[I thought you said no harbored criminals could be here]] [[Sorry. I need to go]] [[So this is why no one could find you]] “I thought you said you harbored no criminals here.” It wasn’t said with malice or accusation. I wanted confirmation. Because if what Estelle said was true and Milo still walked through these doors, then he had meant no harm. “I said I harbored no one that was ill of heart. Milo’s heart is pure.” “How do you know?” Estelle gestured to the walls around her. “Because he wouldn’t even know of this place if it were not for that. No one that is undeserving can even see these walls. Enter these tunnels. Breathe this air.” Milo was staring at me, as if waiting to see what my next move would be. When I didn’t do anything, he hesitantly turned to Estelle. “I just need to go a bit deeper. I’ve narrowed it to the eastern parts of the tunnels. I just don’t know how far down.” Estelle nodded. “Well, you cannot be going back down there tonight. This will have been your third time this week. You need not overtax your body.” “It’s alright. I really don’t mind.” Milo was trying to get away. He was taking a few steps back from me, fiddling with whatever was in his hand. Estelle stopped him, putting her hand on his arm. “How about we reconvene tomorrow. Or the next time you are available. You came back today looking far too tired. Rest, Milo. You need to heal.” His eyes ticked up towards mine but wasn’t able to maintain contact. “Right. Here.” He handed her what was in his hands before turning and walking away. [[What is that device?]] [[How long has he been here]] [[So you know Milo]] I didn’t know if I could do this. While I had seen him earlier at the graveyard, this somehow felt different. My safety net was gone. <<if $miloforgiveness == "true">> I didn’t know if I was ready to be alone with him. Despite Estelle being the barrier between us, it felt far too close. <<elseif $miloforgiveness == "false">> I had seen the parts of Milo’s soul that I had not wanted to and it had only strengthened my resolve. I was going to have to work with him. He was the Gatekeeper that I now had. But it didn’t mean I had to go out of my way to be around him.<</if>> “Sorry,” I told Estelle. “I think I need to go.” Estelle didn’t seem confused by the sudden shift of tone. In fact, she looked ready for the comment. “Perhaps. But if you have come to the Star Sanctuary, perhaps it was for a reason.” A red star had launched me into the aquaducts. There wasn't much reasoning there other than the village wanting me gone before they were discovered. Milo was staring at me, as if waiting to see what my next move would be. When I didn’t do anything, he hesitantly turned to Estelle. “I just need to go a bit deeper. I’ve narrowed it to the eastern parts of the tunnels. I just don’t know how far down.” Estelle nodded. “Well, you cannot be going back down there tonight. This will have been your third time this week. You need not overtax your body.” “It’s alright. I really don’t mind.” Milo was trying to get away. He was taking a few steps back from me, fiddling with whatever was in his hand. Estelle stopped him, putting her hand on his arm. “How about we reconvene tomorrow. Or the next time you are available. You came back today looking far too tired. Rest, Milo. You need to heal.” His eyes ticked up towards mine but wasn’t able to maintain contact. “Right. Here.” He handed her what was in his hands before turning and walking away. [[What is that device?]] [[How long has he been here]] [[So you know Milo]] “So this is why no one could find you,” I murmured. Milo had effectively disappeared. The distillery had been abandoned, Feebus had not seen him in months, and despite his appearance at the fight clubs, Milo moved within the shadows and never stayed in the line of sight for too long. “Milo here is helping me with a little problem,” Estelle said. “There is a terrible blockage somewhere in the aqueducts and we don’t know where or even why. He’s been trying to find it the entire time he’s been here but to no avail.” Milo was staring at me, as if waiting to see what my next move would be. When I didn’t do anything, he hesitantly turned to Estelle. “I just need to go a bit deeper. I’ve narrowed it to the eastern parts of the tunnels. I just don’t know how far down.” Estelle nodded. “Well, you cannot be going back down there tonight. This will have been your third time this week. You need not overtax your body.” “It’s alright. I really don’t mind.” Milo was trying to get away. He was taking a few steps back from me, fiddling with whatever was in his hand. Estelle stopped him, putting her hand on his arm. “How about we reconvene tomorrow. Or the next time you are available. You came back today looking far too tired. Rest, Milo. You need to heal.” His eyes ticked up towards mine but wasn’t able to maintain contact. “Right. Here.” He handed her what was in his hands before turning and walking away. [[What is that device?]] [[How long has he been here]] [[So you know Milo]] “What was the device he was holding?” I asked. It was small and flat and covered in droplets of water that was frozen to the surface. “A map of the aqueducts. It is quite vast down there. Spanning for several miles. Perhaps beyond. Milo is not only trying to discover what is blocking the water in some tunnels but how far these tunnels go.” “And you entrusted him with this?” It felt as if this kind of knowledge should not be handed out to just anyone. Estelle raised her brow. “You trusted him to be your Gatekeeper, did you not?” “I didn’t give him that power.” “Oh? I must have been mistaken.” I looked down the direction in which Milo disappeared. Others were milling around the opening of a narrow hall, the lights within dimming. “Do you know him?” she asked. Did I know him? It was somehow a much more difficult situation than I ever thought it would be. I was wondering if anyone actually did know Milo. “His door is the fourth door down,” Estelle told me when I didn’t answer. “If you wish to go and see him. If not,” she pointed towards a glass lattice work door behind me. “There is an exit towards the Night Market. We are beneath the Eternal Staircase. Do you know how to navigate home from there?” I had never once seen a set of doors beneath the Eternal Staircase and I had passed it several times while making deliveries for Hazel. Until now, the Star Sanctuary had not shown itself to me. I wondered why. “Thank you,” I said. There was a woman that was standing near the front desk, looking scared and alone. Estelle was looking towards her, eyes furrowing in concern. But she still had time to look at me. Her hand reaching out and passing through my own. She didn’t even seem surprised by it. “If you ever need time for yourself, please come and see me. The Star Sanctuary is always open to you.” And with that she left. [[Leave back to the Night Market]] [[Follow Milo]] “How long has he been here?” The mystery of where Milo had been hiding was an unanswered one that had been lingering within the minds of most of the people I knew. And he had taken refuge down here. There was no doubt in my mind that he had that planned. “For a spell,” she said. “He was brought here by a woman named Anemone. Apparently he was lurking in her salon for some time and she brought him up here.” “And then what?” I needed to understand. I needed more of a picture. “And then nothing. He slept for a spell. I didn’t see him for a few days. And then when I did, I realized that he might need a bit of direction. So I sent him on a few tasks. He finished them very quickly and was eager for more. And now here we are.” I looked down the direction in which Milo disappeared. Others were milling around the opening of a narrow hall, the lights within dimming. “Do you know him?” she asked. Did I know him? It was somehow a much more difficult situation than I ever thought it would be. I was wondering if anyone actually did know Milo. “His door is the fourth door down,” Estelle told me when I didn’t answer. “If you wish to go and see him. If not,” she pointed towards a glass lattice work door behind me. “There is an exit towards the Night Market. We are beneath the Eternal Staircase. Do you know how to navigate home from there?” I had never once seen a set of doors beneath the Eternal Staircase and I had passed it several times while making deliveries for Hazel. Until now, the Star Sanctuary had not shown itself to me. I wondered why. “Thank you,” I said. There was a woman that was standing near the front desk, looking scared and alone. Estelle was looking towards her, eyes furrowing in concern. But she still had time to look at me. Her hand reaching out and passing through my own. She didn’t even seem surprised by it. “If you ever need time for yourself, please come and see me. The Star Sanctuary is always open to you.” And with that she left. [[Leave back to the Night Market]] [[Follow Milo]] “So you know Milo,” I said, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth. “He’s been here for some time now. He’s one of our only patrons that come and go. Most people in his situation are not one to go back out into the streets but for some reason he keeps heading out there. There is a hope that one day he simply won’t come back.” “Why that hope?” “Because it means he’ll feel safe again. Though, as it is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he continues to come here and help. He seems a bit like a lost puppy, if you will.” I looked down the direction in which Milo disappeared. Others were milling around the opening of a narrow hall, the lights within dimming. “Do you know him?” she asked. Did I know him? It was somehow a much more difficult situation than I ever thought it would be. I was wondering if anyone actually did know Milo. “His door is the fourth door down,” Estelle told me when I didn’t answer. “If you wish to go and see him. If not,” she pointed towards a glass lattice work door behind me. “There is an exit towards the Night Market. We are beneath the Eternal Staircase. Do you know how to navigate home from there?” I had never once seen a set of doors beneath the Eternal Staircase and I had passed it several times while making deliveries for Hazel. Until now, the Star Sanctuary had not shown itself to me. I wondered why. “Thank you,” I said. There was a woman that was standing near the front desk, looking scared and alone. Estelle was looking towards her, eyes furrowing in concern. But she still had time to look at me. Her hand reaching out and passing through my own. She didn’t even seem surprised by it. “If you ever need time for yourself, please come and see me. The Star Sanctuary is always open to you.” And with that she left. [[Leave back to the Night Market]] [[Follow Milo]] I needed to head back. I wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed. Or how much Turner would have cared about my disappearance to tell anyone. But I did need to get home. The sunburst doors that led out to the market were bright and lit up from small stars that circled the doorframe. But once I stepped back out again, I was within the darkness of the market. Color had drained from the world around me and the once vibrant streets were eerily quiet as the world hid away where it was safe. Slowly, I made my way back towards Artisan Alley, thinking of the things I had learned. The encampments. The people who had wanted to be forgotten. Not to mention the Star Sanctuary and the woman who ran it. Her true form hanging within the watery aqueducts, suspended down there for all of eternity. The secrets that the Night Market held were vast and I knew I should have felt connected to them all. But it just left me feeling adrift. I felt like the cog of a wheel as opposed to the entire wheel itself. Artisan Alley was a surprising distance from the Eternal Staircase. Even if the walls had not moved, its position to the three tiered fountain or from Hazel’s shop, was a good walk. But the walls didn’t seem as convoluted there. Whereas here, nothing looked the same anymore. District dividers were toppled over. The brick of which was reshaping to form small hidey holes. Bodies were buried beneath these, hands sprawled out from within in a desperate attempt to flee their death. No one had come to claim them and no one had cleaned their bodies up yet. I didn’t even know whose job it was. But life was continuing. As much as it could at least. People were still meandering the alley’s, stepping over the fallen, and going about their day. I tried not to scream as I made my way to Artisan Alley. The endless stream of thoughtless market goers was astonishing at best. Full conversations were carried out upon the bones of those less fortunate and no one cared. It made me long for the dim light of Artisan Alley and the safety I was learning it could provide. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>> I walked down the hall, bypassing people through the narrow passage. I turned politely to my side a few times, nodding at the ones who passed. Everyone looked tired. Far from home but forced to stay here until the danger passed. It was written on their faces. They didn’t know if this was going to be where they resided forever. I counted four doors down. Each one was exactly the same. A flat wood door with a carved emblem in the middle. Standing outside his door, I took a deep breath, wondering if I should knock or if I should just turn around and go home. Milo knew I was here but he still ran. Standing outside of my grave, he had been task oriented. He had something to focus on. Even after his fight, he had had a moment to gather himself and prepare. Here, however, he had not. I had caught him flat footed and I could use that to my advantage. I wanted to catch him off guard to see what he would really do. I pushed open the door without preamble, letting myself in. The room was barely the size of Hazel’s back storeroom. A bed was shoved in the corner along with a small nightstand and a pile of dirty clothes. Milo was pacing the room, talking to himself, hand fisted through his hair. He hadn’t heard me come in. “Milo.” He jumped, turning on his heel and stumbling back. He fell onto his bed, bracing himself with his hands, wincing as his wrists bent too far back. He got himself back on his feet quickly, opening his mouth to say something but apparently thinking better of it and falling short. He cleared his throat, looking down. The lights ahead playing across his freckled face. “You know if you kill me here you won’t know who your next Gatekeeper is going to be.” There was such defeat in his voice. The way he approached the sentiment, like he was certain that I was only here to kill him. [[It’s not like you’ve been doing a great job]] [[Do you have anyone in mind for the next Gatekeeper]] [[What reason would I have to kill you]] [[I’m not going to kill you, Milo]] “It’s not like you’ve been doing a great job,” I told him. “Gates to the outside worlds are closed. But the market is in a worse state than it was before.” “Without my actions, the market wouldn’t have even existed,” he hissed. “You sure of that?” “Are you?” I wasn’t. That was the real kicker of it all. Without Milo’s actions, the world could have very well died. I held little memory of the state of myself. I had strangely not been concerned, despite the pain I had felt. I had just wanted to come down here and experience love and life. There was little thought to the idea of it killing me in the end. And even if it did, I didn’t fully understand the repercussions of what death meant. Having a childhood friend like Pen skewed the milestone a little. Milo’s eyes ticked towards the open door. I could see the way he swallowed. “You should go,” he said. “Don’t know what it means for you to be so far away from your…” He trailed off. Voice catching on the unspoken word. “Grave,” I said. “My grave.” “Yeah.” [[How often are you going down to the aqueducts?]] [[Are you staying here because you are afraid of who is going to kill you out there?]] [[We really should talk, Milo]] “Do you have anyone in mind for the next Gatekeeper?” I asked. “Should we do this somewhere else?” There was a grim set to his face as he backed further into the room. “You really want to bestow this shit show of a job onto someone else? The fact that you even made this bullshit to begin with is fucked up enough.” “I agree,” I told him. “And when I can figure out how to wrestle this power out of your hands, I probably will.” “I look forward to it.” He was coming back to himself bit by bit. I could see the way he was gathering the broken pieces. Having me here spelled uncertainty to him. A sort of danger that he hadn’t come to terms with. But, we both knew he was safe. There was a star that was guaranteeing that. “How did you manage to fool Estelle into believing you should be down here?” I asked. No matter how it was spun, he did shove his hand through my chest and turned the key. In his mind, he was killing me. Milo’s eyes ticked towards the open door. I could see the way he swallowed. “You should go,” he said. “Don’t know what it means for you to be so far away from your…” He trailed off. Voice catching on the unspoken word. “Grave,” I said. “My grave.” “Yeah.” [[How often are you going down to the aqueducts?]] [[Are you staying here because you are afraid of who is going to kill you out there?]] [[We really should talk, Milo]] “I’m not here to kill you,” I whispered. My heart broke at the sound of his voice. The wet hitch of fear that he didn’t want me to see. He didn’t look as if he believed me. “Why are you here then?” I didn’t know if he was asking why I was in the Star Sanctuary or why I was in his room. I chose the easier answer. “I was trapped in a place called Nebula. There was some sort of magic there that helped me get back out” He blinked, a flicker of recognition crossing his eyes. “You’ve been there, I take it?” He swallowed painfully. “Once.” “It’s an imprisonment camp.” It was a statement. One I needed to say in order to get it acknowledged out loud. “You’ll have to talk to Gabe about that.” I would. I would need to talk to Gabriel at length about a few things it seemed. But first, Milo. “Did you really think I was going to kill you?” I felt like something was broken.. That Milo could think I would retaliate after what had happened, made me wonder if he had ever known me at all. Milo’s eyes ticked towards the open door. I could see the way he swallowed. “You should go,” he said. “Don’t know what it means for you to be so far away from your…” He trailed off. Voice catching on the unspoken word. “Grave,” I said. “My grave.” “Yeah.” [[How often are you going down to the aqueducts?]] [[Are you staying here because you are afraid of who is going to kill you out there?]] [[We really should talk, Milo]] <<set $miloend to "true">>“How often are you going down to the aqueducts?” Milo didn’t do well with direct questions relating to the issue at hand. He acted in fear. Wanted to run from anything that could show some of the raw wounds he covered with a crooked smile and amber eyes. “Whenever I can,” he said with surprising openness. “No one else really wanted the job but if we don’t find out why the water is getting plugged up, then Estelle is going to die.” The blunt statement was cause for concern. Estelle hadn’t made it seem as big of a deal but if Milo couldn’t lie. Embelishing the truth had been far more his game. The fact that he was speaking as bluntly as he could didn't bode well. “How much danger are we in for a star burning up?” “Not a ton. But a bit. A bit more than I’m comfortable with.” He looked down. “History kind repeating itself, yeah?” “A little bit.” The similarities were stark. This was the chance for him to do what he couldn’t before. “Would you like to talk?” I asked. “No.” “Why?” I asked, keeping the same pace of his back and forth. Not letting him run verbally. “Why does someone do anything?” he mused. [[Don’t deflect]] [[Are you going to fight me after everything?]] “Are you staying here because you are afraid of who is out there? Who might kill you?” He wasn’t the most loved person within the market right now but there were plenty of people that were far worse than him. Though Milo was closer to home. Belladonna. Gabriel. Hazel and even Malcolm. All of them saw the fallout of what he had done to me. They all had their own opinions on it. And at least half of them did not plan to greet him with open arms. “I’m not afraid,” he said lightly. “Besides, if one of them gets me, then that’s the game, yeah? I’ll be back or something. Rise from the grave and all that.” “That’s an awful way to look at your life." “Should I be rejoicing in the life I’ve created for myself?” he asked with a raised brow. "You've got to admit, it hasn't been much to brag about." [[Don’t deflect]] [[Are you going to fight me after everything?]] I took another step towards him. “We really should talk, Milo.” There was so much that hadn’t been said. So much that needed to be spoken between us. But he was scooting away from me, shifting himself so he could venture to the other side of the room. Not that it really created much of a gap between us. “Talk? About what?” He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Don’t do this. We need to talk about what happened.” At the end table were several pieces of metal. Little bits of junk that he reached for, fiddling with and clicking them together in a pleasant sounding way. It was a distraction and one that I had occasionally seen him use. Something to deflect from the nuances of his tone. "What's the point? It was a fucked up thing to do. There's not a lot of ways to spin it. We really should be focusing more on that grave of yours." [[Don’t deflect]] [[Are you going to fight me after everything?]] “What reason would I have to kill you?” I asked gently. My hands were upturned as I walked into the room, approaching him with clear and precise movements. He laughed, high pitched and slightly off kilter. “You’re joking, right?” “Milo…” “What are you even doing here?” His voice was thready. Like my presence was somehow ruining a carefully crafted facade. I didn’t know if he was asking why I was in the Star Sanctuary or why I was in his room. I chose the easier answer. “I was trapped in a place called Nebula. There was some sort of magic there that helped me get back out” He blinked, a flicker of recognition crossing his eyes. “You’ve been there, I take it?” He swallowed painfully. “Once.” “It’s an imprisonment camp.” It was a statement. One I needed to say in order to get it acknowledged out loud. “You’ll have to talk to Gabe about that.” I would. I would need to talk to Gabriel at length about a few things it seemed. But first, Milo. “Did you really think I was going to kill you?” I felt like something was broken.. That Milo could think I would retaliate after what had happened, made me wonder if he had ever known me at all. Milo’s eyes ticked towards the open door. I could see the way he swallowed. “You should go,” he said. “Don’t know what it means for you to be so far away from your…” He trailed off. Voice catching on the unspoken word. “Grave,” I said. “My grave.” “Yeah.” [[How often are you going down to the aqueducts?]] [[Are you staying here because you are afraid of who is going to kill you out there?]] [[We really should talk, Milo]] “Don’t deflect,” I told him. It was how he got out of talking. The truth was elusive only because Milo talked so fast that he led everyone to the place he wanted them to be in the conversation. “How is that deflection?” He dug in his pocket, looking for a cigarette but fidning none. “Because I know you. You won’t answer anything straight forward. You won’t admit to things when you are stressed. Instead you try to turn everything around on the people around you or focus their attention elsewhere.” He stared at me. There was a flush high on his cheeks. One born of anger and embarrassment. We both knew that I was right but it wasn’t as if Milo was going to readily admit that. “You shouldn’t be here,” he finally said, voice dipping to a low and bitter tone. "You understand how dangerous this would look to most people, right? I betrayed you. I covered my tracks and let you walk headlong into danger for months. In everyones eyes, I killed you. What is to stop me from doing it all over again, huh? Why are you even taking this chance? You're not stupid." [[Rethink how you speak to me]] [[I am sorry that you are hurting in such a way that this is the way you think]] [[Then do it. Kill me]] “Are you really going to do this? Fight me after what you did?" “I'm not fighting you," he said wryly. "I'm a little curious why you won't fight me." "Because it won't solve anything. I can be mad at you and understand when something isn't productive." "I shoved a key through your fucking chest." He gestured to where my shirt lay slightly open. “I can see it, you know. Saw it when you showed up to the club. Shouldn’t that be your reminder of why you shouldn’t be near me? I’m dangerous, yeah? If I could kill you outside a ballroom of people who knows what I’m going to do now.” I stared at him. There was such anger in his voice. Vitriol directed not towards me but towards him. [[Rethink how you speak to me]] [[I am sorry that you are hurting in such a way that this is the way you think]] [[Then do it. Kill me]] “Then do it,” I said. “If you are so blinded by bloodlust, just do it. Prove them all right. Kill me all over again, Milo.” I held my arms out wide, the gap in my shirt falling open and showing the key shaped scar. His eyes darted downward, unable to look away. I could see him shutting down. Taking each little messy box of emotions that were warring in his head and packing them away. I let my arms drop, feeling the tension snap tight between us in the small room. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I told him resolutely. He closed his eyes. Only for a brief moment. But when he opened them again, they were twin burning flames. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen,” he said. “You have every right to state your peace and I’m sorry that I just made it seem like you didn’t. However, I think someone should be with you while we talk. Or we should do it in public.” His voice had gone monotone. Devoid of the passion and the emotion that made him the man I had once known. [[That sounds good]] [[I’m not afraid of you]] [[No, I don't want to talk]]“Rethink how you speak to me,” I told him calmly. “Because let me remind you, in case you have forgotten, that you can’t touch me. Not that I think your threat has any real substance behind it, but you don’t get to speak to me like that. You made a mistake. A big mistake. And you are going to own up to it now. You don’t get to take it out on me.” “I wasn’t–” He stopped, his throat moving but nothing coming out. So, a lie then. One he had clearly tried to force himself to tell. “I was just trying to say that given what has happened in the past, it’s going to seem unsafe to others that you’re even here.” “I don’t care about what others think. Am I unsafe with you?” I challenged. He didn’t answer. I watched him roll his lips in his mouth like a child, trying his best not to respond. Instead, he closed his eyes. Only for a brief moment. But when he opened them again, they were twin burning flames. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen,” he said. “You have every right to state your peace and I’m sorry that I just made it seem like you didn’t. However, I think someone should be with you while we talk. Or we should do it in public.” His voice had gone monotone. Devoid of the passion and the emotion that made him the man I had once known. [[That sounds good]] [[I’m not afraid of you]] [[I'm worried about you, Milo]] [[No, I don't want to talk]] I took another step towards him, reaching up as if to cup his cheek. My hand went through him, of course. I knew it would. But Milo shivered. As if he could feel my skin. “I’m sorry,” I told him sincerely. “I am so sorry that you are hurting so much that this is how you think. That you use such anger and pain to speak to me now because you are so afraid of what you have been trying to shove down for so long.” There was a wavering within his eyes as a sheen glossed over them. “I’m so sorry, Milo,” I whispered. “The pain you must feel is more that I can bear to see. I want to help you though. I am not here to kill you. I’m here to make sure you are okay.” "Don't," he begged. "Milo..." He backed away from me then, his body shuddering at my words. He closed his eyes. Only for a brief moment. But when he opened them again, they were twin burning flames. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen,” he said. “You have every right to state your peace and I’m sorry that I just made it seem like you didn’t. However, I think someone should be with you while we talk. Or we should do it in public.” His voice had gone monotone. Devoid of the passion and the emotion that made him the man I had once known. [[That sounds good]] [[I’m not afraid of you]] [[I'm worried about you, Milo]] <<set $miloend to "true">>“That sounds good,” I agreed. The fact was, we might not have been equipped to handle this conversation alone. Not with the way Milo evaded everything. And I was far too close to the matter. “You do know that person is going to have to be Malcolm, right?” “Why him?” “Can you think of anyone else that will sit in a room with you right now?” “He’s not going to be biased,” Milo muttered bitterly. “He’ll take your side on everything. Your his //Lamplight//. I can’t compete with that.” The second he said it, I could tell he regretted it. It also felt as if it were so much more significant than what he intended it to be. “It’s not a competition,” I told him softly. It had taken both of us off guard, pulling the rug from beneath our feet. “Yeah. No. Of course not,” he muttered. <<if $miloro == "true">> "Didn't take him long to move in on you though, did it."<</if>> He walked out the room, leaving me within his bedroom that he had been in for some time. A world that looked small and without personality. Devoid of any sort of joy or creature comforts. Just a single sheet that was over his bed. A flat pillow. And a few spare keys on the side of the table. With a sigh, I turned. Milo was still standing there. “I’ll walk you back,” he said, hands in his pocket. <<if $miloro == "true">>"Are we going to discuss what you just said?" "I'd really rather not," he whispered. And maybe i was feeling merciful, because I let it go. "Let me just walk you home."<</if>> <<if $miloro == "true">>[[I would like that]]<</if>> [[Not tonight]] [[I want to keep a distance between us]]“I’m not afraid of you,” I told him. A bitter smirk darted across his lips. “That’s because you’re young,” he said. “Ironic, yeah?” He moved to go past me, trying to slip out the door. I stepped in front of him, providing a barrier between me and the door. He could walk through. Just march straight through me. But he stopped short, taking two steps back and holding up his hands in surrender. I could hear the way he sucked in his breath. The way it caught in his throat. “Milo,” I stated softly. “We need to talk. You cannot run from this.” The room was far too small for him to do anything but pace. His fingers went to his hair, tugging a bit at the ends. Trying to figure out how to get out of here without barreling right through me. “There’s nothing I want to talk about,” Milo finally said. I could see the way his shoulder set. Squaring off and tipping his chin up, he finally turned towards me. But it wasn’t Milo looking back. It was someone else. It was the mask he wore when he didn’t want anyone to look beneath the surface. “I think there’s plenty to talk about. Everything that happened with us would be a good start.” “No.” This time, he did get past me. And I let him. He walked out the room, leaving me within his bedroom that he had been in for some time. A world that looked small and without personality. Devoid of any sort of joy or creature comforts. Just a single sheet that was over his bed. A flat pillow. And a few spare keys on the side of the table. With a sigh, I turned. Milo was still standing there. “I’ll walk you back,” he said, hands in his pocket. He looked repentent. Like even his own words were weighing on him. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[I would like that]]<</if>> [[Not tonight]] [[I want to keep a distance between us]]“I would like that,” I whispered. With his hands in his pockets, he escorted me down the long hall and out towards the lobby of the Star Sanctuary. Estelle was still flitting about, her like mannered counterparts all partaking in different forms of work. When we got to the front door, I watched as Milo took a key from his pocket and placed it in a little bowl by the side of the door. The key melted and disappeared into the bottom of the basin. “What was that?” I asked. “Gate key.” “Just a random one?” He shook his head. “Found it down in the aqueducts. We aren’t allowed to take anything out of the Star Sanctuary. I was going to go hand that one in at the trade center but this works too.” [[There’s gate keys down in the aqueducts?]] [[What are you doing for Estelle in the aqueducts?]] “Why are there gate keys down in the aqueducts?” I asked. What I really wanted to ask was why he was using actual keys. It was on the nose, really. “I’ve collected thirty two so far,” he said. Pushing open a set of starburst doors, the cold of the market beyond sucked us out and onto the streets. I swayed a little, uncertain on my feet at the sudden change of pressure. Milo reached out to automatically steady me, but his hand passed through. I pretended that I didn’t see him try. “I’m assuming the keys are stolen,” he said quickly, shoving his hand back in his pocket. “Keys to doors can get stolen?” “Oh yeah. I used to steal them and sell them to the highest bidder when I was younger. There was one gatekeeper that made their keys look like a series of feathers. Those were annoying because they would float away when you’d try to run off with them.” “Every Gatekeeper chooses what the keys look like?” He nodded, looking unsure. Then again, if anyone was going to know the secrets of the Gatekeeper, it was probably going to be me. “And you chose literal keys?” “Hide in plain sight,” he said with a shrug. I couldn’t say anything about it. In the end, it had fooled even me. We walked in silence. Milo didn’t offer anything more but I could feel him on edge. There was a distance between us now. It had been there before, lingering in the dark, but now it was used as a mask. Forever separating us. We turned down an alley, heading in a straight line towards Artisan Alley. It was vaguely haunting. Reminding me far too much of the path to Hazel’s Apothecary. He stopped, halfway down a dark route. But I could see the artisan lights ahead. I turned to him, watching how he leaned against the wall, hands loose in his pockets as he stared off into the night. <<if $miloend == "true">>“You’re still dying,” he said flatly. “Excuse me.” “I slowed it down. But something is still wrong. I can feel it. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Figure it out.” [[What was the point of all this?]] [[What do you mean you can feel it?]] [[Thank you for telling me]]<<elseif $miloend == "false">>[[Next|Milo false]]<</if>> “What are you doing for Estelle in the aqueducts?” I asked. “Trying to find the blockages. That star down there burns hella hot. If it is not kept cool then it can melt an entire swath of the market, including everyone taking refuge in the Star Sanctuary. The water that flows down there keeps it regulated and then gets pumped up to the hot springs at the third landing of the Eternal Staircase. Pressures been shit lately, however, and no one is really sure why.” <<if $miloend == "true">>”That’s incredibly nice of you to do,” I told him. With everything that was going on, he had found some amount of solace here. And he was helping. After the ball, Milo stood at a precipice. He could have done anything. Become the villain that he was painted to be. The very one he desperately wanted us to believe that he was. But instead, he came here, and was trying to do some good in the world. It didn’t go unnoticed. “Estelle… she’s a nice woman,” he said. “She listened to me when she didn’t have to. Gave me something to do when my mind got too full. I didn’t know I even needed that. But, I guess that’s why they are always going on about trusting your elders.” “You have other people you could have trusted,” I pointed out to him. He looked down, watching the pace of our movements. “Maybe,” he said. “But it’s hard to do. Even walking with you right now. I feel like I’m missing something. Or its all some sort of dream.” “It’s not a dream, Milo.” He reached for the cigarette behind his ear, rolling it between his fingers. “We’ll see,” he responded. “We’ll see.” <<elseif $miloend == "false">> “Don’t you have other jobs to worry about?” I asked. “Or have you nullified your job as a Gatekeeper by closing all the gates.” He tensed beside me. I could see his jaw twitch and his head tip down. Any of the relaxedness of his voice drifted away. “I’m keeping up my duties,” he said flatly. “They always come first.” The thing was, I didn’t know what a Gatekeeper was supposed to do if not control the gates. If there was nothing to monitor, then what was this Baron title supposed to mean. “What have you been doing then?” “You asking as my boss? Or are you just trying to insult me.” “Seeing as it's my body, we might need to have a discussion about what you are doing to it. Consent and all.” He winced, turning his head away. His jaw was tight and his eyes were drifting elsewhere. They looked tired but on guard. “You don’t have to see me, you know. I didn’t ask for you to show up at the club.” “No, you don’t ask for much, do you Milo.” “This how we’re going to do this?” he asked, voice tight. “Do you think there should be another way? Should I jump into your arms and forgive you?” He frowned. “No. I don’t…” his mouth snapped shut, eyes forward. “No. I’m sorry. You’re right.” We walked in silence. Milo didn’t offer anything more but I could feel him on edge. There was a distance between us now. It had been there before, lingering in the dark, but now it was used as a mask. Forever separating us. <</if>> We turned down an alley, heading in a straight line towards Artisan Alley. It was vaguely haunting. Reminding me far too much of the path to Hazel’s Apothecary. He stopped, halfway down a dark route. But I could see the artisan lights ahead. I turned to him, watching how he leaned against the wall, hands loose in his pockets as he stared off into the night. <<if $miloend == "true">>“You’re still dying,” he said flatly. “Excuse me.” “I slowed it down. But something is still wrong. I can feel it. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Figure it out.” [[What was the point of all this?]] [[What do you mean you can feel it?]] [[Thank you for telling me]]<<elseif $miloend == "false">> [[Next|Milo false]]<</if>> “What was the point of any of this then? The lying. The ball. Everything. Why do it if it didn’t actually work?” I couldn’t keep the accusation from my tone. Not with what he just dropped. “I didn’t say it would fix everything,” he shot out defensively. “I just had to get you to stop tearing yourself apart. Opening the damn gates.” “And the lights? What was the point of that?” “I didn’t do that,” he snapped. “You think I fucking like stumbling around in the dark?” “I don’t know, Milo. I don’t know much of anything anymore.” I was at a loss. None of it had worked and we were now far worse off than before. “Look,” he awkwardly pushed away from the wall, body tensed. “You need to get back to the alley. Your little trip to Nebula has attracted the guard and you’re really the only one to deal with it.” And just like before. I was given a piece of information that sat uselessly in my hands, told it was a problem, and then pushed forward with no real direction. “I’ll come see you later. For stuff,” he said, kicking the toe of his shoe against the ground. He didn’t wait for me to respond. Not that I thought I could. Instead, he turned, walking down the alley, disappearing into the night. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>>“What do you mean you can feel it?” I felt my heart ratchet up in fear. It had been fixed. Whatever had been wrong with me was still rotting me from the inside and there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t even self aware enough to act. “I don’t know how to describe it,” Milo said in frustration. “It just feels like this dull ache. Or like some sort of nagging thought that’s telling me I forgot to do something.” “But you did all this to save me,” I told him. “That was the entire point of the ritual.” “I know that! And I think I did. At least for a while. But you’re still doing something. Or someone is doing something to you. It didn’t fix our problems. It only slowed everything down.” The hot and angry blare of confusion roared through my ears. What had been the point then? What was the point in any of this? “Look,” he awkwardly pushed away from the wall, body tensed. “You need to get back to the alley. Your little trip to Nebula has attracted the guard and you’re really the only one to deal with it.” And just like before. I was given a piece of information that sat uselessly in my hands, told it was a problem, and then pushed forward with no real direction. “I’ll come see you later. For stuff,” he said, kicking the toe of his shoe against the ground. He didn’t wait for me to respond. Not that I thought I could. Instead, he turned, walking down the alley, disappearing into the night. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>> I stared at him. The world was too dark to truly see him. Not properly, at least. The glow from his eyes played across the rough lines of his cheeks. His lips were chapped and he looked harsher. Not the playful man who I had danced with once upon a time. “Thank you,” I said. His head whipped towards me, not having expected the soft tone. “Thank you for telling me.” His lips parted like he was going to tell me something more, but he stopped, unsure of himself. It was a softness he knew he didn’t deserve and so when it was offered to him, he didn’t know what to do. Mouth shutting, he cast his eyes downward, boots kicking at a broken cobblestone. “I’ll keep you updated,” he said. “As much as I can. I know you can’t feel everything going on. It’s got to be frustrating.” “Yeah.” He nodded. “That would be a pain in the ass.” There was a glint in his eye. A small little bit of hope that maybe things wouldn’t always be so stunted between us. Pushing away from the wall, he tipped his head down the alleyway. “You’re going to need to go the rest of the way on your own. Since you opened a door to Nebula, the Guard is going to be along soon. I don’t really fancy dealing with Gabe right now. Sorry for throwing you to the wolves.” “I need to see Gabriel,” I told him. “I haven’t had time to go see anyone yet.” “Yeah, well, if you could keep my name to yourself, I’d kind of appreciate that.” “We’ll see.” He laughed a little at that. “See you soon, dar–” he paused. “See you soon, $name.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. Not that I thought I could. Instead, he turned, walking down the alley, disappearing into the night. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>> The roads within the winding alleys were mostly the same. But, I had noticed a slight gap from where the rest of the streets met the one way passage of Artisan Alley. The two roads did not connect and instead there was a hands width line between them made of solid dirt. Gabriel stood on one side of this line, his toes butting up to the edge of the market street. Three men all stood behind him, their gazes stoic and staring right ahead “You will move out of my way. This is official Velvet Guard business.” In direct opposition to him, was Sawyer. At full height, he nearly matched Gabriel, and for the inches he didn’t have, he made up for in sheer confidence. “Actually, daddy, you won’t be going anywhere. See, this is not Velvet jurisdiction. Meaning, it doesn’t matter what you are getting your panties in a twist over. You’re going to have to stand off to the side and unbunch them right over there.” Gabriel made a step forward, his lips curling up over his teeth. He halted when Sawyer greeted him with a single finger, waggling it back and forth. “Think again,” he sang. Sawyer dipped his finger downwards to point at the dirt line between them. For Gabriel not to just go charging forward and arrest Sawyer, showed strength. A sort of patience that I wasn’t aware Gabriel had. But the more I looked down at the line, watching the way his boot kept hitting some invisible wall, I realized that Gabriel could not physically cross. “Oh, cat got the tongue?” Sawyer grinned. At this point, I stepped forward. Because the angrier Gabriel was starting to look, the more pleased Sawyer was becoming. [[Sawyer, stop antagonizing him]] [[What are you doing here?]] [[Do you believe it’s actually me now]] The roads within the winding alleys were mostly the same. But, I had noticed a slight gap from where the rest of the streets met the one way passage of Artisan Alley. The two roads did not connect and instead there was a hands width line between them made of solid dirt. Gabriel stood on one side of this line, his toes butting up to the edge of the market street. Three men all stood behind him, their gazes stoic and staring right ahead “You will move out of my way. This is official Velvet Guard business.” In direct opposition to him, was Sawyer. At full height, he nearly matched Gabriel, and for the inches he didn’t have, he made up for in sheer confidence. “Actually, daddy, you won’t be going anywhere. See, this is not Velvet jurisdiction. Meaning, it doesn’t matter what you are getting your panties in a twist over. You’re going to have to stand off to the side and unbunch them right over there.” Gabriel made a step forward, his lips curling up over his teeth. He halted when Sawyer greeted him with a single finger, waggling it back and forth. “Think again,” he sang. Sawyer dipped his finger downwards to point at the dirt line between them. For Gabriel not to just go charging forward and arrest Sawyer, showed strength. A sort of patience that I wasn’t aware Gabriel had. But the more I looked down at the line, watching the way his boot kept hitting some invisible wall, I realized that Gabriel could not physically cross. I stepped forward then, testing the line myself. I managed to pass without resistance. “Gabriel?” His head snapped towards me, a look of fear in his eyes. For a moment, he was no longer the Warden. He was Gabriel Caine. The one who demanded my name persistently. The officer of the law who was stern to a fault but had somehow morphed into a protector. Who ended up walking me to Baron meetings. Who’s eyes stayed on mine the entire ball because he didn’t trust Milo for a second. Gone was the Warden of the Velvet Guard and instead, was my friend. “$name?” When he went to cross the line, he stuttered to a stop, frustration crossing his face. I looked between him and Sawyer. “Why can’t he cross?” I asked. “He has no domain,” Kimber chimed in. I hadn’t even seen her there. She was hidden behind Sawyer, munching on a muffin. “If the Warden signs a book he’ll be able to come in. Otherwise he has to stay on that side.” [[Sign the book, Gabriel]] [[That is a strange rule]] [[Just step over the line to see him]] It was a simple request. I didn’t know how Kimber had produced such magic but the go around was innocent enough. That is, except for the fact that it was magic and magic was strictly prohibited by the Velvet Guard. “Gabriel,” I said gently, “just sign the book.” Though, Gabriel didn’t hear me. The man was looking at me, listening intently, but I could tell he was lost. Perhaps still walking through the night of the ball. Coming out to the fountain to find me lifeless on the floor while people died all around them. There was such relief in his eyes as he looked me over. Coming to terms with the fact that I was actually here. It left me feeling guilty for not seeing him sooner. And I made a mental note to speak to everyone. They had all found my body that night. Buried me. They deserved to see that it was not the end. “I thought we had lost you,” he said softly. “I am so very glad to see you made your way back to us.” [[I missed you too, Warden]] Every time I turned around there seemed to be another rule that had been slapped in place for reasons no one could really fathom. I had seen plenty of people come and go without problem. Crossing the dirt line of the alley and heading to Kimber’s shop. Yet, if someone donned the Velvet suit, they were cast aside. For Gabriel personally, that struck so much deeper than someone just telling him he wasn’t welcome. “That’s kind of a strange rule,” I told them. “It is,” Sawyer agreed. “So is getting arrested for not having I.D papers the second after arriving here.” Identification papers. I didn’t even have mine anymore. Though, maybe it didn’t matter since I wasn’t corporeal. Then again, with the way Sawyer was looking at Gabriel, I knew he wasn’t talking about me. “Are you trying to arrest them?” I asked with a frown. But there was something soft in Gabriel’s eyes. He wasn’t focused on his made up rules and regulations for the moment. There was such relief in his eyes as he looked me over. Coming to terms with the fact that I was actually here. It left me feeling guilty for not seeing him sooner. And I made a mental note to speak to everyone. They had all found my body that night. Buried me. They deserved to see that it was not the end. “I thought we had lost you,” he said softly. “I am so very glad to see you made your way back to us.” [[I missed you too, Warden]] I shook my head, not really understanding these arbitrary rules. And with the look that Gabriel was giving me, I really didn’t care. Hopping back across the line, I went to hug him. My arms fell through his sides, however and the blaring reality that I wasn’t truly back, hit me hard. He frowned at me. “I’m not corporeal yet,” I explained, bordering on embarrassed. “Are you a spirit?” “No,” I said quickly. “I mean, maybe? It’s all very complicated. I just got back though.” There was such relief in his eyes as he looked me over. Coming to terms with the fact that I was actually here. It left me feeling guilty for not seeing him sooner. And I made a mental note to speak to everyone. They had all found my body that night. Buried me. They deserved to see that it was not the end. “I thought we had lost you,” he said softly. “I am so very glad to see you made your way back to us.” [[I missed you too, Warden]] “I missed you too, Warden,” I told him softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner. It’s all been a bit…. Much.” He let out a breath. One he had been holding for so long. “I can only imagine. Is there anything you need? Where are you living?” “Here, actually. Down the way.” I pointed towards the apartment with no door. Gabriel didn’t need to say anything for me to know he disapproved. This alley was clearly not high on his list of favorite places. “Is that the unsanctioned gate that opened?” he asked, eyes narrowing towards my home. “Oh, no. That was me but it wasn’t my apartment. It was… well…” I didn’t know if I should really tell him about Nebula. The people there didn’t seem as if they wanted the Guard to remember anything about them. For now, I decided it was best not to go into detail. “It was me,” I explained. “I honestly didn’t mean to do it. But it looks as if that’s just kind of something I can do now.” If the path to the graveyard was any example, it was an ability I apparently was doing without much thought. “Uh, Warden?” Gabriel straightened, apparently having forgotten about the officers behind him. Turning, he sighed. “You are dismissed.” They looked between each other, trying to discover why there was such a shift in their boss’s demeanor. But Gabriel, as per usual, expected to be listened to without question. When he turned back to me, he opened his mouth to continue our conversation. “Okay, but Warden?” the officer interrupted. “This wasn’t the only place. Do we need to go check out the other ones?” Gabriel sighed. “Wait. Artisan Alley wasn’t the only gate? Where else did one open?” That didn’t seem right. I hadn’t felt anything at least. Then again, I hadn’t felt anything when Nebular appeared. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.” There he was. The Warden of the Night Market. Straight laced and buttoned to the chin. Ready to die with his rules. [[It’s my body]] [[You are the Warden. Make it a liberty]] [[It will be far better if we work together]]“You do know that it's my body this is happening too. Technically, it doesn't matter what liberties you think you are beholden to. It’s my choice.” And there it was. The typical Gabriel irritation. The one that came when he was working and was under stress. Only this time, when he pinched the bridge of his nose, there was something different. Cracks marred his hands. Little gray fault lines that ran down from his knuckles to his wrists, disappearing beneath his dress coat. He had forgotten his gloves in his haste to get here. I wasn’t supposed to see this. “I will come back and we will speak,” he told me under his breath. “But right now, there is more going on and I just don’t have the time.” “There is another report, Warden. The walls are moving.” As if on cue, I could hear the rumbling taking place somewhere deep within the market. When Gabriel looked at me, I was comforted by the knowledge that he didn’t want to go. The desire to talk to me about everything that had taken place was a firm seed of hope in his mind. One that he was hoping would provide answers. But, as always, duty called. “I am beyond relieved that you are back,” he told me gently. “I truly am. When I have more time…” “Warden, we’re getting reports all over the place.” The panic that was within the officers voice was hard to miss. Gabriel stood straight, putting the visage of the powerful man, the authoritarian, back into place. “$name,” he said with a nod. His eyes ghosted towards Sawyer in a hardened expression. Sawyer merely blew him a kiss. <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[Next|Merger 1.5]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>At this point, I was wondering what else I could possibly be hit with. The night was eternal and offered many more secrets for us to dance our way through. I was ready to go inside the bakery at this point. Sit down with something warm. And have something to eat. “Hi.” I felt my heart stop. Barely able to hope, I turned slowly. Hazel stood at the entrance of the alley. She would have had to pass Gabriel on the way. In fact, her gaze kept flitting back and forth. From me to where the Velvet Guard had disappeared. The urge to run towards her and take her in my arms was compulsory and hard to ignore. My foot lifted off the ground to stumble towards her before I stopped myself. I needed to maintain composure with her. At least until we could figure all this out. [[Hi]] [[You left the shop]] [[Are you okay?|Hazel Are you okay]]<</if>>“Make it a liberty,” I snapped. “There has to be some perk to being the Warden.” Next to me, Sawyer made the sound of a whip cracking through the air. Kimber shoved at him with her elbow and Gabriel only stared at him with a cold and calculating gaze. Sawyer was lucky he had the barrier to protect him and he knew it. “$name,” Gabriel said with a very slow and controlled voice. “There are events happening I would be more than happy to brief you on. But not in the midst of a crisis.” “We are always in a crisis,” I told him. And there it was. The typical Gabriel irritation. The one that came when he was working and was under stress. Only this time, when he pinched the bridge of his nose, there was something different. Cracks marred his hands. Little gray fault lines that ran down from his knuckles to his wrists, disappearing beneath his dress coat. He had forgotten his gloves in his haste to get here. I wasn’t supposed to see this. “I will come back and we will speak,” he told me under his breath. “But right now, there is more going on and I just don’t have the time.” “There is another report, Warden. The walls are moving.” As if on cue, I could hear the rumbling taking place somewhere deep within the market. When Gabriel looked at me, I was comforted by the knowledge that he didn’t want to go. The desire to talk to me about everything that had taken place was a firm seed of hope in his mind. One that he was hoping would provide answers. But, as always, duty called. “I am beyond relieved that you are back,” he told me gently. “I truly am. When I have more time…” “Warden, we’re getting reports all over the place.” The panic that was within the officers voice was hard to miss. Gabriel stood straight, putting the visage of the powerful man, the authoritarian, back into place. “$name,” he said with a nod. His eyes ghosted towards Sawyer in a hardened expression. Sawyer merely blew him a kiss. <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[Next|Merger 1.5]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>At this point, I was wondering what else I could possibly be hit with. The night was eternal and offered many more secrets for us to dance our way through. I was ready to go inside the bakery at this point. Sit down with something warm. And have something to eat. “Hi.” I felt my heart stop. Barely able to hope, I turned slowly. Hazel stood at the entrance of the alley. She would have had to pass Gabriel on the way. In fact, her gaze kept flitting back and forth. From me to where the Velvet Guard had disappeared. The urge to run towards her and take her in my arms was compulsory and hard to ignore. My foot lifted off the ground to stumble towards her before I stopped myself. I needed to maintain composure with her. At least until we could figure all this out. [[Hi]] [[You left the shop]] [[Are you okay?|Hazel Are you okay]]<</if>>“You know it will be far better if we work together,” I said, keeping my voice low. “We’ve gone down this road before, Gabriel. Everything needs to be laid out on the table.” His frustration was mounting but I could tell that it was not with me. “I understand that. But I do not have time to explain everything. The events that happened in your absence supersede any of my own personal wishes or desires.” I was about to counter him when my eyes caught on the backs of his hand. Cracks marred his hands. Little gray fault lines that ran down from his knuckles to his wrists, disappearing beneath his dress coat. He had forgotten his gloves in his haste to get here. I wasn’t supposed to see this. “I will come back and we will speak,” he told me under his breath. “But right now, there is more going on and I just don’t have the time.” “There is another report, Warden. The walls are moving.” As if on cue, I could hear the rumbling taking place somewhere deep within the market. When Gabriel looked at me, I was comforted by the knowledge that he didn’t want to go. The desire to talk to me about everything that had taken place was a firm seed of hope in his mind. One that he was hoping would provide answers. But, as always, duty called. “I am beyond relieved that you are back,” he told me gently. “I truly am. When I have more time…” “Warden, we’re getting reports all over the place.” The panic that was within the officers voice was hard to miss. Gabriel stood straight, putting the visage of the powerful man, the authoritarian, back into place. “$name,” he said with a nod. His eyes ghosted towards Sawyer in a hardened expression. Sawyer merely blew him a kiss. <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[Next|Merger 1.5]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>At this point, I was wondering what else I could possibly be hit with. The night was eternal and offered many more secrets for us to dance our way through. I was ready to go inside the bakery at this point. Sit down with something warm. And have something to eat. “Hi.” I felt my heart stop. Barely able to hope, I turned slowly. Hazel stood at the entrance of the alley. She would have had to pass Gabriel on the way. In fact, her gaze kept flitting back and forth. From me to where the Velvet Guard had disappeared. The urge to run towards her and take her in my arms was compulsory and hard to ignore. My foot lifted off the ground to stumble towards her before I stopped myself. I needed to maintain composure with her. At least until we could figure all this out. [[Hi]] [[You left the shop]] [[Are you okay?|Hazel Are you okay]]<</if>>“Sawyer, stop antagonizing him.” I stepped up next to the man, watching as he pouted a little at my demand. “But it’s fun.” “Don’t antagonize people with guns,” Kimber stated. It was spoken like some sort of mantra. One she had said a million times before. “Gabriel doesn’t carry a gun,” I explained to her. “He carried a sword.” “I would ask you to move,” Gabriel said loudly, staring directly at Sawyer. “Make me, big boy. Put me in cuffs.” Kimber elbowed Sawyer hard at that, causing the man to stumble a little away. “You can’t come in here, Warden,” Kimber told him, holding her ground. “You know the rules.” “They were not rules I put in place,” he snapped. “Still…” “I hereby declare this alley in direct violation of the Night Market,” he said loudly. “Everyone within the vicinity is held in contempt and unless they start cooperating, will be placed under arrest.” “How?” Sawyer scoffed. “You can’t even get in here.” “Don’t test me,” he snapped at the man. “I’ll bring in a magic breaker so quick that it will drain everything from each and every one of you leaving you nothing but a drooling mess in the streets.” Sawyer just rolled his eyes. “Kinky.” “Gabriel,” I started again. But he was paying no attention to me. Wasn’t looking my way at all. His men, however, were. “Gabriel, ask your men. They can see me. They can…” And then their eyes glazed over as they looked right through me again. “You have to the count of three to comply,” he commanded. “One. Two.” [[They are not fucking children Gabriel]] [[Gabriel, this is not how this needs to go]] [[As the Night Market, I am not giving you the authority to do this]] “What are you doing here?” I asked, coming to stand next to Sawyer. Kimber stood on his other side, looking a bit worried about what altercation may come our way. She nervously was eating a muffin, the crumbs spilling onto the streets for the field mice to come and collect. Despite speaking clearly, Gabriel refused to look at me. Acknowledging my presence was some sort of failure in his mind and it left a dull ache of betrayal and confusion swelling within my own heart. “I would ask you to move out of my way,” he told Sawyer firmly. “Gabriel, you have seen me three times now. Does my image haunt you like this? When are you going to believe that I’m real? That I’m actually here.” He looked over my shoulder towards Kimber. “Ma’am, I ask permission to enter Artisan Alley.” “Gabriel,” I called out to him with hurt in my voice.. But other than the small flinch, he didn’t turn my way. “I’m so sorry, Warden,” Kimber told him. “I have the same rule for you that I have for any of your other men. You are not allowed in unless you sign a binding waiver.” His eyes hardened. “My men are signing waivers with unsanctioned districts?” Slowly, he turned to look at the officers behind them. One of them was conveniently looking in the other direction. “I see.” “If you wish to sign a waiver I can let you in. Otherwise, you’ll have to go to the window over there and order your food.” “Gabriel,” I said again more softly. He had to budge. Somewhere in all of this he had to start seeing that there was more to the world than his rules. “I hereby declare this alley in direct violation of the Night Market,” he said loudly. “Everyone within the vicinity is held in contempt and unless they start cooperating, will be placed under arrest.” “How?” Sawyer scoffed. “You can’t even get in here.” “Don’t test me,” he snapped at the man. “I’ll bring in a magic breaker so quick that it will drain everything from each and every one of you leaving you nothing but a drooling mess in the streets.” Sawyer just rolled his eyes. “Kinky.” “Gabriel,” I started again. But he was paying no attention to me. Wasn’t looking my way at all. His men, however, were. “Gabriel, ask your men. They can see me. They can…” And then their eyes glazed over as they looked right through me again. “You have to the count of three to comply,” he commanded. “One. Two.” [[They are not fucking children Gabriel]] [[Gabriel, this is not how this needs to go]] [[As the Night Market, I am not giving you the authority to do this]] “Sawyer,” I said softly, “I'll handle this.” Next to Sawyer, Kimber looked relieved, mouthing the words thank you to me. While it didn’t appear that the Velvet guard could cross the line, she also hadn’t wanted to tempt fate. “Boo,” Sawyer pointed. But he backed off, giving us the space that we needed. I stepped into the pointed indent of his high heeled boots, digging my feet in as I faced Gabriel, yet again. “Do you believe it's actually me now?” I had to ask. Because if he didn’t, I wasn’t sure how far this conversation could really go. I saw something flicker across his face. “You do,” I said slowly. “I know you do.” “I would ask you to move out of my way.” It didn’t matter if I did or not. It wasn’t as if he could walk by me. “Gabriel, you have seen me three times now. Does my image haunt you like this? When are you going to believe that I’m real? That I’m actually here.” He looked over my shoulder towards Kimber. “Ma’am, I ask permission to enter Artisan Alley.” “Gabriel,” I called out to him with hurt in my voice.. But other than the small flinch, he didn’t turn my way. “I’m so sorry, Warden,” Kimber told him. “I have the same rule for you that I have for any of your other men. You are not allowed in unless you sign a binding waiver.” His eyes hardened. “My men are signing waivers with unsanctioned districts?” Slowly, he turned to look at the officers behind them. One of them was conveniently looking in the other direction. “I see.” “If you wish to sign a waiver I can let you in. Otherwise, you’ll have to go to the window over there and order your food.” “Gabriel,” I said again more softly. He had to budge. Somewhere in all of this he had to start seeing that there was more to the world than his rules. “I hereby declare this alley in direct violation of the Night Market,” he said loudly. “Everyone within the vicinity is held in contempt and unless they start cooperating, will be placed under arrest.” “How?” Sawyer scoffed. “You can’t even get in here.” “Don’t test me,” he snapped at the man. “I’ll bring in a magic breaker so quick that it will drain everything from each and every one of you leaving you nothing but a drooling mess in the streets.” Sawyer just rolled his eyes. “Kinky.” “Gabriel,” I started again. But he was paying no attention to me. Wasn’t looking my way at all. His men, however, were. “Gabriel, ask your men. They can see me. They can…” And then their eyes glazed over as they looked right through me again. “You have to the count of three to comply,” he commanded. “One. Two.” [[They are not fucking children Gabriel]] [[Gabriel, this is not how this needs to go]] [[As the Night Market, I am not giving you the authority to do this]] “They are not fucking children, Gabriel. You don’t get to treat them this way.” I had never understood the tactic. Why he, along with so many others in this world, felt the need to talk down to their fellow companions. To make them feel small. Seeing it now was a backslide for Gabriel. One that hurt more than I could admit. “This alley will be shut down. As of tomorrow, I will be placing a barrier up that does not allow anyone to further inhabit this portion of the market. People in violation will be arrested without question.” “A dictatorship is clearly the route to go here,” Sawyer mocked. “You aren’t doing this,” I told Gabriel firmly. “As the Night Market, I will simply take that wall back down. You will not have a say.” It was the first time he looked at me and might have seen me. There was an unbearable amount of hope that surrounded him and yet I watched as he purposefully squashed it down. Not able to even dream that I was back, in case it meant that he was wrong and I would be taken away from him all over again. “The Night Market?” Gabriel looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide as he stared at one of his men. The soldier was barely old enough to be on the force but he was dressed in full regalia and carried a pointed sword. He was looking at me in reverence. Lips slightly parted as if he couldn’t believe it. “My mother spoke of you,” he said hesitantly, eyes flicking back and forth between me and Gabriel. He was waiting for this to be declared a joke. “She said that the market returns every lifetime or so. That they come here to check on us. Solve problems that they see. Make sure we continue to thrive. We have a shrine set up to you in our home.” [[That’s very flattering]] [[I come here every lifetime]] [[Gabriel, they can see me]] My heart hurt for him. For me. For what we had shared. It all had gone so terribly wrong. Slated to with a death that I thought would have been inconsequential. A sick feeling of guilt was gnawing at me from within and as I stared at him, watching the way his skin formed slight fissures that were shot through with grace, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the end of it all. “Gabriel,” I told him softly, longing to reach out and take his hand. “It does not need to be this way. We can work together. You just have to face me.” “No one?” he asked, voice speaking over me. “You all will be standing your ground?” Sawyer crossed his arms in front of him, cocking his head to the side. “Why are you ignoring $name? I get that you’re a brute but I didn’t figure you for a straight up dick, honey.” “Sawyer,” Kimber hissed. “You are not helping.” “Gabriel, please,” I begged. “Let me help you. You know I’m the Night Market. Is it really impossible to think that I’d be back?” It was the first time he looked at me and might have seen me. There was an unbearable amount of hope that surrounded him and yet I watched as he purposefully squashed it down. Not able to even dream that I was back, in case it meant that he was wrong and I would be taken away from him all over again. “The Night Market?” Gabriel looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide as he stared at one of his men. The soldier was barely old enough to be on the force but he was dressed in full regalia and carried a pointed sword. He was looking at me in reverence. Lips slightly parted as if he couldn’t believe it. “My mother spoke of you,” he said hesitantly, eyes flicking back and forth between me and Gabriel. He was waiting for this to be declared a joke. “She said that the market returns every lifetime or so. That they come here to check on us. Solve problems that they see. Make sure we continue to thrive. We have a shrine set up to you in our home.” [[That’s very flattering]] [[I come here every lifetime]] [[Gabriel, they can see me]] I stepped forward, placing my foot firmly on the ground, toeing the barrier that somehow kept him from this alley. “As the Night Market,” I said calmly. “I am not giving you the authority to do this.” It was then that his eyes ticked down to me. The shock that flickered beneath his gray eyes was only momentarily but I still caught it. It was a concept that he had yet to reflect on. He was not in charge of this situation. He was placed as my voice to conduct justice in this world and yet he was morphing each situation to how he saw fit. It was time to be reigned in. “If you wish to speak civilly about what has brought you here, then we can do that. But you will not bully people in my home. You will not take my friends and demand they bend to your will in a tantrum. Do you understand me, Gabriel?” It was the first time he looked at me and might have seen me. There was an unbearable amount of hope that surrounded him and yet I watched as he purposefully squashed it down. Not able to even dream that I was back, in case it meant that he was wrong and I would be taken away from him all over again. “The Night Market?” Gabriel looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide as he stared at one of his men. The soldier was barely old enough to be on the force but he was dressed in full regalia and carried a pointed sword. He was looking at me in reverence. Lips slightly parted as if he couldn’t believe it. “My mother spoke of you,” he said hesitantly, eyes flicking back and forth between me and Gabriel. He was waiting for this to be declared a joke. “She said that the market returns every lifetime or so. That they come here to check on us. Solve problems that they see. Make sure we continue to thrive. We have a shrine set up to you in our home.” [[That’s very flattering]] [[I come here every lifetime]] [[Gabriel, they can see me]] “I’m very flattered,” I told the young man. It was a bit odd to think that there were others who worshiped me, but it was good to know that this wasn’t a fever dream. That people I had yet to meet could speak to me without issue. “I would love to have a cup of coffee with you at Kimbers,” the man said with a smile. He had a shock of bright red hair and was built tall and wide. “Whenever you wish.” Kimber peeked behind Sawyer. “Hi, Richie,” she whispered, waving a little. Richie tipped his hat to her. “Ma’am.” “Enough,” Gabriel snapped. It was a crack that sounded through the air, making all of us jump. “Return to your posts,” he ordered. “We are done here today.” “But the gate…” “Return to your posts,” he snapped. “Yes, Warden,” the three men chorused. I thought Gabriel would turn back to me then. I thought this would be our reunion. But, he didn’t look over his shoulder as he spoke next. “Artisan Alley is not within our jurisdiction. But if gates continue to open here, we will have to take action.” When he walked away, his heavy boots pounded across the cobblestone. I was left staring at his retreating back.. [[Next|Gabriel merger]]“I come here every lifetime.” I meant it as a question. Wanting to dive into the man's family practices and ask him if I could speak with his aunt. But, instead, it was a statement. It was truth. Various faces and personalities swam forward for one brief moment. All of them individuals who had walked here before. All of them ones that had made an impact on this world. “We are very happy to have you here,” the officer said. “We’ve needed help for a long while and if you’re here, I just know that we are in good hands.” The officer had a shock of bright red hair and an easy smile. Until him, I had almost forgotten that there was some good within the Velvet Guard. That Gabriel tried to keep his officers kind and helpful. It was Gabriel who was declining. And he was declining fast. “Enough,” Gabriel snapped. It was a crack that sounded through the air, making all of us jump. “Return to your posts,” he ordered. “We are done here today.” “But the gate…” “Return to your posts,” he snapped. “Yes, Warden,” the three men chorused. I thought Gabriel would turn back to me then. I thought this would be our reunion. But, he didn’t look over his shoulder as he spoke next. “Artisan Alley is not within our jurisdiction. But if gates continue to open here, we will have to take action.” When he walked away, his heavy boots pounded across the cobblestone. I was left staring at his retreating back.. [[Next|Gabriel merger]]“Gabriel, they can see me,” I said gently. “Everyone here in Artisan Alley can see me. You are not crazy. I’m home.” I kept my palms turned up, approaching him like a wild animal. I wanted to touch him. To be able to prove this to him somehow. “$name, honey. I don’t know if you should step over that line,” Sawyer murmured from behind me. Gabriel was looking between me and everyone else. Following their line of sight as they cast their gaze upon me. I could see it. The connections he was making. “It can’t be,” he whispered. There was such brokenness in his tone. A lack of understanding that was pounding at his thoughts. I was the one thing he so desperately wanted and yet he struggled to let himself have me. “I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said gently. “It’s me.” Just as I was about to step over the line, however, he turned. His back stood straight and tall in front of me as he addressed his men. “Return to your posts,” he ordered. “We are done here today.” “But the gate…” “Return to your posts,” he snapped. “Yes, Warden,” the three men chorused. I thought Gabriel would turn back to me then. I thought this would be our reunion. But, he didn’t look over his shoulder as he spoke next. “Artisan Alley is not within our jurisdiction. But if gates continue to open here, we will have to take action.” When he walked away, his heavy boots pounded across the cobblestone. I was left staring at his retreating back.. [[Next|Gabriel merger]] I stepped out of the Star Sanctuary, the night air feeling cool against my cheeks. The darkness that surrounded me was still a shock. The way the lanterns hung above me was eerie and with each passing day they stayed dark, they looked as if they died just a bit more. I could feel it around me. The way everything was changing. There was something in the air that continued to linger, settling over the market in a dark and suffocating haze. There was nothing to be done about it. Not in the state I was in. “Back to square one,” I muttered to myself. Head bowed, I walked out onto the street, ready to head back to Artisan Alley. The dark was so thick that I nearly knocked into someone on the way. It wasn’t until I reared back that I remembered I couldn’t touch anyone. “Sorry,” I said softly, going to move around them. I caught sight of a black silk skirt that hugged the very curves of voluminous thighs, trailing up to a sheer corset and the long locks of dark red hair. Belladonna looked at me, her eyes searching. “You are here,” she said gently. There was a small curve of wonder to her tone. “How did you discover the Star Sanctuary?” I wanted to hug her. To fling myself at her. But even as I raised my hand, it passed right through her. “Oh, dear heart,” she sighed. “None of that. It’ll only depress us both.” I swallowed down my emotions. A mixture of laughter and pain. [[How did you find me?]] [[This isn’t the reunion I imagined]] [[Are you feeling better?]] “How did you find me?” I believed in fortuitous situations. Coincidences were happy accidents that I would gladly accept. Yet, this was Belladonna. The eyes and ears of the market. I didn’t believe in coincidences when it came to her. “I have my ways,” she said coyly. “You could never hide from me, dear heart. I will always be sure to find you.” Except, she didn’t. I had been gone in the between areas of the market and she hadn’t known. “Will you walk with me?” she asked. “Just like old times?” “Of course I will,” I said softly. There was such sadness that I could feel rolling off of her. Yet, she relayed nothing. We walked through the market and the old familiar streets. They were far darker than before and less populated, but Belladonna had no problems seeing. Her eyes snapped to something that lingered in the shadows, but nothing ever approached us. We remained secure in a little bubble of our own making. “How did you come back to me?” she asked lightly. We were not two people that had been torn apart. At this moment, we were having a casual conversation. The whiplash between what she was saying and what I felt made my head spin. Yet, Belladonna played each card she dealt close to her chest. She had asked me once to follow her lead and I assumed it meant for the rest of our lives. “I’m not sure yet,” I told her. “I have been wondering. There’s this in between spot in the market. A liminal space. I went there once with Malcolm and that seems to be where I was after the ball. I then just stepped out into Artisan Alley.” “Just like that?” There had been no big flash. No fanfare. I was in the middle of those gray walkways and then I was in my home. “Just like that.” “Interesting.” Belladonna led us around a corner and into the darker swaths of the market. “Stick close please,” she murmured. I could see the glow from her eyes and hear the scuffling in the dark. [[Next|Fight scene]] “This is certainly not the reunion I had imagined.” The words bubbled up from my throat. This all felt… odd. Anticlimactic. The images of her the other day warring with the confident woman that I could see now. “Become corporeal again and I will give you the reunion of your dreams,” she purred. It didn’t sit right with me though. None of it did. And even as I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, I could tell there was something she was holding back. We walked through the market and the old familiar streets. They were far darker than before and less populated, but Belladonna had no problems seeing. Her eyes snapped to something that lingered in the shadows, but nothing ever approached us. We remained secure in a little bubble of our own making. “How did you come back to me?” she asked lightly. We were not two people that had been torn apart. At this moment, we were having a casual conversation. The whiplash between what she was saying and what I felt made my head spin. Yet, Belladonna played each card she dealt close to her chest. She had asked me once to follow her lead and I assumed it meant for the rest of our lives. “I’m not sure yet,” I told her. “I have been wondering. There’s this in between spot in the market. A liminal space. I went there once with Malcolm and that seems to be where I was after the ball. I then just stepped out into Artisan Alley.” “Just like that?” There had been no big flash. No fanfare. I was in the middle of those gray walkways and then I was in my home. “Just like that.” “Interesting.” Belladonna led us around a corner and into the darker swaths of the market. “Stick close please,” she murmured. I could see the glow from her eyes and hear the scuffling in the dark. [[Next|Fight scene]] “Are you feeling better?” I asked her. The last time I had seen her, she had been limp in another woman's arms. She looked frail and weak and I was ready to accept it was all a dream if she were to deny any of it. “I feel perfectly fine, my heart. There is nothing to worry about with me,” she said flippantly. “The other day…” “Was a fluke. Now,” she looked me up and down. “Walk with me. Like old times. I wish to drink you in.” We walked through the market and the old familiar streets. They were far darker than before and less populated, but Belladonna had no problems seeing. Her eyes snapped to something that lingered in the shadows, but nothing ever approached us. We remained secure in a little bubble of our own making. “How did you come back to me?” she asked lightly. We were not two people that had been torn apart. At this moment, we were having a casual conversation. The whiplash between what she was saying and what I felt made my head spin. Yet, Belladonna played each card she dealt close to her chest. She had asked me once to follow her lead and I assumed it meant for the rest of our lives. “I’m not sure yet,” I told her. “I have been wondering. There’s this in between spot in the market. A liminal space. I went there once with Malcolm and that seems to be where I was after the ball. I then just stepped out into Artisan Alley.” “Just like that?” There had been no big flash. No fanfare. I was in the middle of those gray walkways and then I was in my home. “Just like that.” “Interesting.” Belladonna led us around a corner and into the darker swaths of the market. “Stick close please,” she murmured. I could see the glow from her eyes and hear the scuffling in the dark. [[Next|Fight scene]] Darkness trailed out from around us, fluttering through the air in phantom wings. While I couldn’t feel Bella, I could feel the shadows. They curled around the two of us, protecting us from whatever was lurking in the dark. They bled from her fingers in swift tendrils of broken smoke. Ahead, the candles began to douse. One by one flickering out with a hiss. Belladonna stopped, placing her hand up to keep me from progressing further. I shivered as I passed through her, jumping back at the cold chill it brought on. “What is it?” As if to answer, someone began singing. The soft lilting hymn of a choir reached out to us. I swallowed thickly, trying to peer at where Belladonna was clearly staring at. I thought I saw an outline of something. A blurry edged figure that was coming closer and closer. As the shadows began to recede I could begin to make out their face. It was silver toned and ghostly. Shot through with bright blue veins. It walked upright and yet the proportions of its body didn’t look right. It looked to be posing as a human without truly understanding what that actually meant. “Can we help you?” I asked. The creature screeched loudly as it flung itself towards us. I jumped back, stumbling into the wall. But it wasn’t coming for me. It screamed as it reached Bella, long golden talons latching onto her dress. A loud tear sounded within the alleyway just before Bella curled her hands around the thing and flung it off. It hit the wall with a thunk next to me, a spray of silver blood splattering the ground beneath. The creature didn’t even act as if it was wounded. Pushing away from the wall to run back towards Bella, communicating in only a series of high pitched shrieks. Wings shot out from Belladonna’s back, knocking against the walls and causing them to crumble. She rose into the air, taking the creature with it. A glint of a blade appeared in it’s hands as it kicked back and forth. “Bella, watch out!” It pulled the knife, plunging it towards her hip. Its movements were sloppy as it barely grazed her. Yet, at this point, Belladonna had had enough. With both hands on the creature's head, she twisted. It snapped off with a wet squelch, the body falling to the ground. Belladonna pulled the skull towards her, looking almost amused at the way it opened and closed its mouth in a mimicry of a dying fish. “You lost,” she hissed. “We are done. Go home and never return.” The creature melted in her grasp. Coating her fingers in a thick slimy coat of viscous goo. I could only stare at her as she came back down. Her feet delicately landed with a pointed touch. Her wings snapped back into her back, leaving two heavy slits in her skin. There were only minor abrasions from where she hit the wall along with a small cut on her hip. I watched as Belladonna tucked her hair back behind her shoulder and looked at the tear in her bodice. “Should bring them back just to kill them all over again for this,” she spat. “This was expensive.” [[We’ll get you a new one]] [[Are you okay?]] [[Does this happen often?]] “We’ll get you a new one,” I told her. There was a scratch across her belly where blood dripped down her skin. “This was a one of a kind,” she said. “Feebus himself made this.” “Then get him to make a new one,” I told her incredulously. “Bella, we were just attacked.” That caught her attention. As her own adrenaline drained, she straightened, looking at me with a bit less of the hollow mask filtering over her eyes. “You say your home is in Artisan Alley?” “Yes.” “Let’s go speak there. My places are not going to give us the privacy we need.” “Since when?” Belladonna’s suites had been some of the safest in the night Market, from my understanding. “Since becoming a Baron. Let’s go.” We quickly walked the rest of the way through the winding mazes, taking several turns as the walls down familiar paths had closed. A small shred of light faced us. I paused, looking at Belladonna a little more fully. The fatigue was gone from the other day. She looked like her normal self. Calm. Collected. And poised. “Are you fucking kidding me?” And she was about to meet Turner. Walking into the Artisan Alley, we found them all gathered. Turner stood by Herald, looking as if he was about ready to pull out his hair, while Sawyer stood there with Iblis on his hip. Kimber was frantically running around but stopped at the sight of us, her eyes going wide as she looked up at the tall line of Belladonna’s body. “You’re alive? You’re safe?” Turner was sputtering. “I thought you were fucking dead back there.” I was startled a little at the genuine fear in Turner’s voice. For a man that didn’t know me and hadn’t bothered to try, he looked truly upset at the state of my person. “I’m okay,” I told him. “You’re okay? You’re okay? Fuck!” Bella was looking at him in slight amusement, her head tipped to the side. “Friends of yours?” [[Neighbors]] [[We all just met]] [[I’d like for them to be]] “Are you okay?” My eyes were wide, my heart pounding sharply against my chest as I stared at her. “That was…” I had no words. For as often as I walked around the market with her, we had never been attacked. Not once. “I am fine,” she said, still sounding irritated. “Bella…” When she turned to me, it was with a bit more openness than before. “You say your home is in Artisan Alley?” “Yes.” “Let’s go speak there. My places are not going to give us the privacy we need.” “Since when?” Belladonna’s suites had been some of the safest in the night Market, from my understanding. “Since becoming a Baron. Let’s go.” We quickly walked the rest of the way through the winding mazes, taking several turns as the walls down familiar paths had closed. A small shred of light faced us. I paused, looking at Belladonna a little more fully. The fatigue was gone from the other day. She looked like her normal self. Calm. Collected. And poised. “Are you fucking kidding me?” And she was about to meet Turner. Walking into the Artisan Alley, we found them all gathered. Turner stood by Herald, looking as if he was about ready to pull out his hair, while Sawyer stood there with Iblis on his hip. Kimber was frantically running around but stopped at the sight of us, her eyes going wide as she looked up at the tall line of Belladonna’s body. “You’re alive? You’re safe?” Turner was sputtering. “I thought you were fucking dead back there.” I was startled a little at the genuine fear in Turner’s voice. For a man that didn’t know me and hadn’t bothered to try, he looked truly upset at the state of my person. “I’m okay,” I told him. “You’re okay? You’re okay? Fuck!” Bella was looking at him in slight amusement, her head tipped to the side. “Friends of yours?” [[Neighbors]] [[We all just met]] [[I’d like for them to be]] It did not go unnoticed how prepared she was for something like this. She hadn’t hesitated. She effectively took them out, and she didn’t even seem surprised by their presence. “Bella, how often does this happen?” When she turned to me, it was with a bit more openness than before. “You say your home is in Artisan Alley?” “Yes.” “Let’s go speak there. My places are not going to give us the privacy we need.” “Since when?” Belladonna’s suites had been some of the safest in the night Market, from my understanding. “Since becoming a Baron. Let’s go.” We quickly walked the rest of the way through the winding mazes, taking several turns as the walls down familiar paths had closed. A small shred of light faced us. I paused, looking at Belladonna a little more fully. The fatigue was gone from the other day. She looked like her normal self. Calm. Collected. And poised. “Are you fucking kidding me?” And she was about to meet Turner. Walking into the Artisan Alley, we found them all gathered. Turner stood by Herald, looking as if he was about ready to pull out his hair, while Sawyer stood there with Iblis on his hip. Kimber was frantically running around but stopped at the sight of us, her eyes going wide as she looked up at the tall line of Belladonna’s body. “You’re alive? You’re safe?” Turner was sputtering. “I thought you were fucking dead back there.” I was startled a little at the genuine fear in Turner’s voice. For a man that didn’t know me and hadn’t bothered to try, he looked truly upset at the state of my person. “I’m okay,” I told him. “You’re okay? You’re okay? Fuck!” Bella was looking at him in slight amusement, her head tipped to the side. “Friends of yours?” [[Neighbors]] [[We all just met]] [[I’d like for them to be]] “Neighbors,” I explained to her. People who I had been pushed towards my fate and circumstance. Part of me wondered if it was for a specific reason. “$name, are you alright? Turner said you disappeared behind a gate.” Kimber was frantically searching me, looking for injuries or signs of distress. “A gate?” Belladonna mused. Her voice went cold. I pointed to the door beneath Turner's shop. “It appeared there today. I went through it to a town called Nebula. Which then led me to the Star Sanctuary.” “We tried opening it,” Sawyer said, hoisting Iblis further up on his hip. “But it was locked from the inside. Your doing? Or someone else's?” That, I didn’t know. Not that it mattered, Sawyer already moved on to looking at Belladonna. “Good to see you again,” he told her with a little tip of his head. “I hope you are well, Sawyer. And the offer for employment is still open.” Sawyer laughed. “I’m considering it. Don’t you worry, beautiful.” “Would you two stop?” Turner practically shouted. “No one wants you two fucking in the middle of the street. I can practically smell you from here, Sawyer.” Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Herald, darling. Can you do something? He is wound as tight as a tit.” “I’ll fucking end you,” Turner glared. “I’ll…” “Peace, Turner,” Herald murmured, placing his hand over the shorter man's heart. “Sawyer’s right. Got to calm down. Looks like $name is safe as houses now. You did good.” “But…” “Turner, you’re looking flushed,” Kimber said, biting the edge of her thumb. There was a tension that was mounting and I was quickly realizing it had nothing to do with me. All eyes were on Turner instead. “His blood isn’t pumping correctly,” Belladonna intoned. That was all it took for Herald to nudge Turner forward. “Come on now. Let’s get Pops to check you out, alright?” Turner sagged a little, letting Herald guide him towards the graveyard. I could see the way they ducked close together, exchanging soft words as they went. Both Kimber and Sawyer looked vaguely concerned as they watched the two of them go. I watched Sawyer reach out and squeeze Kimber’s hand, the two of them exchanging a small and watery smile. “Let’s go look at this door,” Belladonna commented, already heading towards the clock shop. I rushed after her, forgetting how long her strides were. [[Next|Chapter 3 Bella 1]] “We all just met,” I told her. I had only shared a handful of conversations with all of them. While I didn’t sense any sort of mal intent from them, the verdict was still out on just how they were going to fit into my life. “$name, are you alright? Turner said you disappeared behind a gate.” Kimber was frantically searching me, looking for injuries or signs of distress. “A gate?” Belladonna mused. Her voice went cold. I pointed to the door beneath Turner's shop. “It appeared there today. I went through it to a town called Nebula. Which then led me to the Star Sanctuary.” “We tried opening it,” Sawyer said, hoisting Iblis further up on his hip. “But it was locked from the inside. Your doing? Or someone else's?” That, I didn’t know. Not that it mattered, Sawyer already moved on to looking at Belladonna. “Good to see you again,” he told her with a little tip of his head. “I hope you are well, Sawyer. And the offer for employment is still open.” Sawyer laughed. “I’m considering it. Don’t you worry, beautiful.” “Would you two stop?” Turner practically shouted. “No one wants you two fucking in the middle of the street. I can practically smell you from here, Sawyer.” Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Herald, darling. Can you do something? He is wound as tight as a tit.” “I’ll fucking end you,” Turner glared. “I’ll…” “Peace, Turner,” Herald murmured, placing his hand over the shorter man's heart. “Sawyer’s right. Got to calm down. Looks like $name is safe as houses now. You did good.” “But…” “Turner, you’re looking flushed,” Kimber said, biting the edge of her thumb. There was a tension that was mounting and I was quickly realizing it had nothing to do with me. All eyes were on Turner instead. “His blood isn’t pumping correctly,” Belladonna intoned. That was all it took for Herald to nudge Turner forward. “Come on now. Let’s get Pops to check you out, alright?” Turner sagged a little, letting Herald guide him towards the graveyard. I could see the way they ducked close together, exchanging soft words as they went. Both Kimber and Sawyer looked vaguely concerned as they watched the two of them go. I watched Sawyer reach out and squeeze Kimber’s hand, the two of them exchanging a small and watery smile. “Let’s go look at this door,” Belladonna commented, already heading towards the clock shop. I rushed after her, forgetting how long her strides were. [[Next|Chapter 3 Bella 1]] “I’d like for them to be,” I said. It was interesting, living in Artisan Alley. I felt more independent here. And the lives of the people surrounding me worked in such tandem that it was fascinating to watch. And even more fascinating to be a part of. “$name, are you alright? Turner said you disappeared behind a gate.” Kimber was frantically searching me, looking for injuries or signs of distress. “A gate?” Belladonna mused. Her voice went cold. I pointed to the door beneath Turner's shop. “It appeared there today. I went through it to a town called Nebula. Which then led me to the Star Sanctuary.” “We tried opening it,” Sawyer said, hoisting Iblis further up on his hip. “But it was locked from the inside. Your doing? Or someone else's?” That, I didn’t know. Not that it mattered, Sawyer already moved on to looking at Belladonna. “Good to see you again,” he told her with a little tip of his head. “I hope you are well, Sawyer. And the offer for employment is still open.” Sawyer laughed. “I’m considering it. Don’t you worry, beautiful.” “Would you two stop?” Turner practically shouted. “No one wants you two fucking in the middle of the street. I can practically smell you from here, Sawyer.” Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Herald, darling. Can you do something? He is wound as tight as a tit.” “I’ll fucking end you,” Turner glared. “I’ll…” “Peace, Turner,” Herald murmured, placing his hand over the shorter man's heart. “Sawyer’s right. Got to calm down. Looks like $name is safe as houses now. You did good.” “But…” “Turner, you’re looking flushed,” Kimber said, biting the edge of her thumb. There was a tension that was mounting and I was quickly realizing it had nothing to do with me. All eyes were on Turner instead. “His blood isn’t pumping correctly,” Belladonna intoned. That was all it took for Herald to nudge Turner forward. “Come on now. Let’s get Pops to check you out, alright?” Turner sagged a little, letting Herald guide him towards the graveyard. I could see the way they ducked close together, exchanging soft words as they went. Both Kimber and Sawyer looked vaguely concerned as they watched the two of them go. I watched Sawyer reach out and squeeze Kimber’s hand, the two of them exchanging a small and watery smile. “Let’s go look at this door,” Belladonna commented, already heading towards the clock shop. I rushed after her, forgetting how long her strides were. [[Next|Chapter 3 Bella 1]] The door was unchanged from when I saw it last. Wooden and unassuming, it sat beneath the clock shop, posing as a basement.. Belladonna took the stairs with ease, pushing open the door like it was nothing. “I thought they said it was locked,” I commented. “Well, it’s not now.” Bella made no move to go inside but instead was looking at the door frame, running her fingers over each crevice. “And you said that you showed up here? From the liminal space you were in?” “Not through this door but this alley, yes.” “Show me.” I took her to my small apartment, the window box blooming with deep plum roses just like Belladonna liked. Again, the vampire ran her fingers over the surface of the home, her molten eyes traveling up and down the lines of the house. “What’s wrong?” Her hand fell. “Nothing,” she said. “Quite the contrary, really.” When she turned to look at me it was with pride. “You saved yourself.” “Huh?” “All this time I’ve been trying to figure out a way to bring you back and you did it all on your own, my clever little heart. [[Flush at the nickname]] [[I didn’t do anything though]] [[You were trying to bring me back]] I felt my body flush with the nickname. It whispered across my skin and pulled me towards her like a gravitational force. I had almost forgotten the sound of her voice. The way it called to me like none other. Despite being incorporeal, she could still see the change in my face. Hear the hitch in my voice. She stepped towards me then, with a smile on her lips. “My suspicion,” she continued, “is that the door to Nebula is one you made. Your magic is painted on it like sweet perfume. With the addition of this house, I’d assume that might be something you are able to do now.” I thought about the graveyard. The sudden passageway there. I had been unconsciously making new paths within the market with a mere thought. “I’m not sure how I’m doing it,” I confessed. “Most likely unintentionally. But if your little AA crew wasn’t able to open the door after you disappeared, I’d say it’s because you didn’t want them to. Which means your power is growing. Eventually, you will be an unstoppable force.” The heat in her eyes burned through me. I watched as the pink tip of her tongue came out to swipe across her bottom lip and run against her fangs. “I wish I could touch you,” I said simply. She tipped her head, amused. “Yes, that is inconvenient. We will need to work on that. But what matters now, is that you are home.” I felt my throat chock with the emotion of it all. “Though,” she continued, looking at the building behind me. “This thing needs to be condemned. Are you sure this is the living quarters you wish to have? I could get you something far more elaborate than this.” I burst into laughter. “I built this, you know.” “You did. And for a first attempt, it’s something. But surely you would want a bit more luxury than this.” [[I could just make it luxurious]] [[I like it]] [[Let’s focus on me being corporeal first]] “I didn’t do anything though. I was just wandering. I was looking for a way back but I couldn’t find it.” She gestured to the little home of mine. “Did you walk through a door to that room?” “Yes.” “Then you did find it. Perhaps it is just something you can innately do. No need for any sort of ritual. It is something we will need to look into for you because that is a valuable skill for you to have.” Belladonna was proud. I could hear it in her voice along with the intrigue. Nothing got Belladonna more excited than a good mystery. “I don’t know,” I said, glancing towards the flower boxes. When had they started blooming? “Unintentionally opening doors sound like what got us into this mess to begin with.” I thought about the graveyard. The sudden passageway there. I had been unconsciously making new paths within the market with a mere thought. “I would argue you perhaps do know how to control a bit of it. If you locked the people here from the door to Nebula, then I’d say it wasn’t unintentional at all. Your power is growing. Which will eventually make you an unstoppable force.” The heat in her eyes burned through me. I watched as the pink tip of her tongue came out to swipe across her bottom lip and run against her fangs. “I wish I could touch you,” I said simply. She tipped her head, amused. “Yes, that is inconvenient. We will need to work on that. But what matters now, is that you are home.” I felt my throat chock with the emotion of it all. “Though,” she continued, looking at the building behind me. “This thing needs to be condemned. Are you sure this is the living quarters you wish to have? I could get you something far more elaborate than this.” I burst into laughter. “I built this, you know.” “You did. And for a first attempt, it’s something. But surely you would want a bit more luxury than this.” [[I could just make it luxurious]] [[I like it]] [[Let’s focus on me being corporeal first]] “You were trying to bring me back?” Her look softened. “Of course I was. I was not going to let you be lost in the wind. You are mine. There is no taking you from me.” That tug, the very one I felt every time Belladonna was near, warmed my stomach. The sense of belonging I felt when faced with her was overwhelming at times. It threatened to consume me, dousing out every ounce of self I had until I knew only to breathe her. It was dizzying and terrifying and yet at the same time, I knew she would never let me fall. And she was proud of me. Because I hadn’t needed her in order to get home. “My suspicion,” she continued, “is that the door to Nebula is one you made as well. It has none of that bastard's magic on it but it does look to have a bit of yours. With the addition of this house, I’d assume that might be something you are able to do.” I thought about the graveyard. The sudden passageway there. I had been unconsciously making new paths within the market with a mere thought. “I’m not sure how I’m doing it,” I confessed. “Most likely unintentionally. But if your little AA crew wasn’t able to open the door after you disappeared, I’d say it’s because you didn’t want them to. Which means your power is growing. Eventually, you will be an unstoppable force.” The heat in her eyes burned through me. I watched as the pink tip of her tongue came out to swipe across her bottom lip and run against her fangs. “I wish I could touch you,” I said simply. She tipped her head, amused. “Yes, that is inconvenient. We will need to work on that. But what matters now, is that you are home.” I felt my throat chock with the emotion of it all. “Though,” she continued, looking at the building behind me. “This thing needs to be condemned. Are you sure this is the living quarters you wish to have? I could get you something far more elaborate than this.” I burst into laughter. “I built this, you know.” “You did. And for a first attempt, it’s something. But surely you would want a bit more luxury than this.” [[I could just make it luxurious]] [[I like it]] [[Let’s focus on me being corporeal first]] “You know I could probably just make it more luxurious. If I wanted.” If I could make an entire home, I could probably put in a few curtains. A chair or something. “And miss going shopping?” Bella asked. “Never.” The streets were empty now. Kimber, Sawyer and Iblis looked as if they had all gone into the bakery and Herald and Turner had yet to return. It was the first time since coming home that I had been with her. Without eyes on us, at least. “Are you okay?” I asked her, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you?” “I don’t know,” I told her honestly. I wasn’t back yet. Not truly. I was just existing in limbo still. All the problems that we had before still loomed on the horizon, and this time, I didn’t have the comfort of her touch to get me through it. She smiled at me knowingly, the same thoughts running through her mind. “I don’t know either,” she confessed. My heart ached. When she let her guard down, even just a little, I could see it. There was a paper thinness to her skin that scared me. I didn’t know enough about vampires to know what this meant. But I knew I was going to be concerned. How could I not be after what I had seen the other day. Belladonna sighed, looking up as she filled her lungs with false breath. “I need to go. I simply wanted to see if you were okay.” “I don’t like the idea of you walking back through the market on your own.” “Oh, dear heart,” she laughed. “What do you plan to do if anything attacks again?” Nothing. Because I couldn’t. Unless I could figure out how to make a shortcut to her home. I looked around as if expecting to see one. But nothing appeared. “I’ll come back,” Belladonna said simply. “I–” she faltered for a moment. “I missed you.” I blinked. I couldn’t remember if she had ever told me that. “I missed you too.” Clearing her throat, she said nothing. It was probably better that way. Bella had never done good with sentimentality. With one last look, she turned and walked down the street. My eyes followed her until she cleared the alley, and the sound of her heels faded away. [[Next|All routes merge 3]]“I like it,” I protested. “It’s homey.” It could use with some furniture. And maybe some curtains. It was only now that I realized almost anyone could look upon where I slept. That was slightly disconcerting. “Oh, darling,” Bella intoned. “I’ll be taking you shopping soon. The streets were empty now. Kimber, Sawyer and Iblis looked as if they had all gone into the bakery and Herald and Turner had yet to return. It was the first time since coming home that I had been with her. Without eyes on us, at least. “Are you okay?” I asked her, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you?” “I don’t know,” I told her honestly. I wasn’t back yet. Not truly. I was just existing in limbo still. All the problems that we had before still loomed on the horizon, and this time, I didn’t have the comfort of her touch to get me through it. She smiled at me knowingly, the same thoughts running through her mind. “I don’t know either,” she confessed. My heart ached. When she let her guard down, even just a little, I could see it. There was a paper thinness to her skin that scared me. I didn’t know enough about vampires to know what this meant. But I knew I was going to be concerned. How could I not be after what I had seen the other day. Belladonna sighed, looking up as she filled her lungs with false breath. “I need to go. I simply wanted to see if you were okay.” “I don’t like the idea of you walking back through the market on your own.” “Oh, dear heart,” she laughed. “What do you plan to do if anything attacks again?” Nothing. Because I couldn’t. Unless I could figure out how to make a shortcut to her home. I looked around as if expecting to see one. But nothing appeared. “I’ll come back,” Belladonna said simply. “I–” she faltered for a moment. “I missed you.” I blinked. I couldn’t remember if she had ever told me that. “I missed you too.” Clearing her throat, she said nothing. It was probably better that way. Bella had never done good with sentimentality. With one last look, she turned and walked down the street. My eyes followed her until she cleared the alley, and the sound of her heels faded away. [[Next|All routes merge 3]]“Let’s focus on me being corporeal before we make my place up to your standards.” “I don't see why we can’t do both at once,” she said. The streets were empty now. Kimber, Sawyer and Iblis looked as if they had all gone into the bakery and Herald and Turner had yet to return. It was the first time since coming home that I had been with her. Without eyes on us, at least. “Are you okay?” I asked her, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you?” “I don’t know,” I told her honestly. I wasn’t back yet. Not truly. I was just existing in limbo still. All the problems that we had before still loomed on the horizon, and this time, I didn’t have the comfort of her touch to get me through it. She smiled at me knowingly, the same thoughts running through her mind. “I don’t know either,” she confessed. My heart ached. When she let her guard down, even just a little, I could see it. There was a paper thinness to her skin that scared me. I didn’t know enough about vampires to know what this meant. But I knew I was going to be concerned. How could I not be after what I had seen the other day. Belladonna sighed, looking up as she filled her lungs with false breath. “I need to go. I simply wanted to see if you were okay.” “I don’t like the idea of you walking back through the market on your own.” “Oh, dear heart,” she laughed. “What do you plan to do if anything attacks again?” Nothing. Because I couldn’t. Unless I could figure out how to make a shortcut to her home. I looked around as if expecting to see one. But nothing appeared. “I’ll come back,” Belladonna said simply. “I–” she faltered for a moment. “I missed you.” I blinked. I couldn’t remember if she had ever told me that. “I missed you too.” Clearing her throat, she said nothing. It was probably better that way. Bella had never done good with sentimentality. With one last look, she turned and walked down the street. My eyes followed her until she cleared the alley, and the sound of her heels faded away. [[Next|All routes merge 3]] Artisan Alley was empty when I crossed the barrier. The lights of Kimbers bakery flooded the cobblestone streets. It was becoming a welcoming sight in a small way. Something I could count on each time I entered the alleyway. “Fuck!” And then there was Turner. The man came bursting from the door that was sandwiched between an abandoned building and the bakery. Herald was following him. “What the fuck were you even thinking, huh? You thought that was smart? Do you often see doors and just go fucking through them!” Turner’s hair was all over the place, his eyes wide with a high flush on his cheeks. Herald lumbered up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Peace, Turner.” From the bakery, Kimber and Sawyer came bursting out as well, Kimber placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, thank the land you’re okay.” I looked between all of them. “You were all worried?” “Of course we were fucking worried you uncaring fucking–” “What Turner means to say,” Sawyer interrupted loudly. “We were all a bit concerned when you went through the random door into a star field. Bit concerning, honey. We were forming a plan of attack to go in after you. [[Going through strange doors is not a good idea]] [[You don’t even know me]] [[I was actually touched]] “Going through strange doors is not a good idea,” I told them firmly. We didn’t know where most of them were. What they could even do. Milo wasn’t forthcoming about any of it. And I doubted that he was going to start. “You really shouldn’t do that.” “We fucking know!” Turner shouted. “What the fucking fuck!” I stumbled back a little at his vitriol. He was apparently a bit more upset than I anticipated. “What Turner means to say,” Kimber told me gently. “Is that we were very concerned.” “I–” I actually wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Thank you. That’s a little unexpected, actually.” “Just don’t fuckin’ do it again,” Turner muttered. Herald curled him closer, planting a kiss on his head. “Come on. We need to take you to pops. Get you checked out.” “I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Still, I want to check on your heart.” He began leading Turner towards the graveyard, glazing at me as he passed. “I’m glad you are safe, $name. I hope your journey was helpful.” I didn’t sense any animosity from him. Only a sense of concern for Turner. I was about to ask if he was okay when I heard a small shuffle from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, assuming that now that I was safe, Sawyer and Kimber would be dispersing. There was a strange clanking of metal that filled the night then. My mind was still whirling with Turner’s outburst but then again, I kind of thought that was just life with Turner. So when I saw the Velvet Guard round the corner, I almost didn’t recognize what was happening. The familiar red velvet suits were a boorish sight after so long, and at the lead of the three officers, was the Warden of the Night market. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> My Gabriel. <<elseif $gabrielro == "false">> Gabriel Caine.<</if>> <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to back alley romance]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "false">>[[Next|Merge]]<</if>>“You don’t even know me,” I said slowly. Past my name and what I was, I was almost certain they knew nothing about me. Yet, they were about to hatch a rescue mission. Barge into a star field, not knowing whether they would return. And for what. A stranger who now lived at the end of their alley. “It doesn’t matter that we don’t know you,” Kimber stated. “You are still one of ours. We always go after our own.” Next to her, Sawyer was nodding. It was Turner who looked like he was about to pass out from a heart attack or burst a vein in his neck. “Thank you,” I told them. “It’s unexpected.” I hadn’t thought they would quite care. “Just don’t fuckin’ do it again,” Turner muttered. Herald curled him closer, planting a kiss on his head. “Come on. We need to take you to pops. Get you checked out.” “I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Still, I want to check on your heart.” He began leading Turner towards the graveyard, glazing at me as he passed. “I’m glad you are safe, $name. I hope your journey was helpful.” I didn’t sense any animosity from him. Only a sense of concern for Turner. I was about to ask if he was okay when I heard a small shuffle from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, assuming that now that I was safe, Sawyer and Kimber would be dispersing. There was a strange clanking of metal that filled the night then. My mind was still whirling with Turner’s outburst but then again, I kind of thought that was just life with Turner. So when I saw the Velvet Guard round the corner, I almost didn’t recognize what was happening. The familiar red velvet suits were a boorish sight after so long, and at the lead of the three officers, was the Warden of the Night market. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> My Gabriel. <<elseif $gabrielro == "false">> Gabriel Caine.<</if>> <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to back alley romance]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "false">>[[Next|Merge]]<</if>> I stared at all of them. I hadn’t known them for very long and yet they were all ready to walk into the unknown for me. Even Turner looked as if he was ready to pass out from my disappearance. He was vibrating, his eyes wide and blown, leaning into Herald like he was ready to run off into the dark screaming. “I’m sorry I worried all of you,” I said, specifically looking towards Turner. I watched him deflate. The anxious tremors going out of him. “I maybe wasn’t thinking.” It was partially the truth. I hadn’t thought it through. Entering into a strange area of the market may not have been the best decision I had made. But, for once, I had uncovered something. //I// had done it. With no help from anyone else. And it felt //good//. Until now I hadn’t quite realized how much I had handicapped myself. How afraid I was to move without someone else by my side. Helping me. But I was the Night Market. This was my world. Arguably, these places I was so afraid to go, were parts of myself. Yet, the concern was touching. It created a warm bond I wished to wrap around the four of them. “Just don’t fuckin’ do it again,” Turner muttered. Herald curled him closer, planting a kiss on his head. “Come on. We need to take you to pops. Get you checked out.” “I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Still, I want to check on your heart.” He began leading Turner towards the graveyard, glazing at me as he passed. “I’m glad you are safe, $name. I hope your journey was helpful.” I didn’t sense any animosity from him. Only a sense of concern for Turner. I was about to ask if he was okay when I heard a small shuffle from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, assuming that now that I was safe, Sawyer and Kimber would be dispersing. There was a strange clanking of metal that filled the night then. My mind was still whirling with Turner’s outburst but then again, I kind of thought that was just life with Turner. So when I saw the Velvet Guard round the corner, I almost didn’t recognize what was happening. The familiar red velvet suits were a boorish sight after so long, and at the lead of the three officers, was the Warden of the Night market. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> My Gabriel. <<elseif $gabrielro == "false">> Gabriel Caine.<</if>> <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to back alley romance]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "false">>[[Next|Merge]]<</if>> “Hi,” I said, breathlessly. She had been the last person I expected to see within the alley. But she was the exact person I had wanted to look my way. “Are you okay?” she asked desperately. “Me?” “I had a vision,” she said bluntly. “I can’t really explain it but I saw you in the middle of this cave system and you looked lost. There was a lot of water.” She stared at me, her words growing quieter and quieter. “But it looks like you’re okay. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She turned, ready to run back into the dark. “Hazel, wait,” I called out to her. I wanted to grab her. Try to show her that I was me. But my hands would just pass through her. Fate was cruel that way and I think I had done something to piss them off. Hazel stopped though. She didn’t turn around, but she was not running either. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked in desperation. Kimber and Sawyer and been watching the exchange, the two of them looking at the desperation on my face and putting two and two together. “Hazel, is it?” Kimber asked. “You run the apothecary, right?” She turned hesitantly, looking at the woman. “My mom and I do.” “Do you make brews for teas? It’s the one thing I can’t seem to master. I was wondering, if you’re amenable, if you would like to sell some here?” Kimber was jumping back and forth on her feet, genuinely excited at the prospect. Even if it was a ploy to just get Hazel to stay a bit longer. “I can do tea,” Hazel said hesitantly. Her eyes shifted back and forth between me and Kimber. “Maybe I could sample some food? See what would fit best here.” Sawyer laughed loudly. “You just made her day.” Kimber was already running into the bakery to gather some samples. Iblis reached out for her, screeching at her departure.. “Don’t mind the feral child,” Sawyer said, bouncing the toddler in his arms. “We fed him food scraps and he refuses to go away.” “Da!” Sawyer rubbed his nose against his sons. “Like a baby duckling he has imprinted on us all.” “Da! Da! Da!” “Have fun you two!” he called out to us, throwing Iblis over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He took the young boy through the unassuming door next to the bakery, leaving Hazel and I alone in the alley. We sat in awkward silence for a long moment, neither quite knowing what to do. I could see the smoke coughing from the vent above the bakery, and the smell of fresh bread baking. “Shall we?” I asked Hazel. She still looked like she was going to bolt. Fear filled her and yet she was fighting it without any reason as to why. It took her a minute, but when she nodded her head, I felt a wave of relief flood over me. Entering the bakery, Kimber had already put out a tray of food. Items she had pulled from the front display. There were a few others milling about in the main lobby but they were keeping to themselves, more on the outskirts of the brightly lit seating area. The two of us sat down across from each other, letting the sounds of the bakery fill in the pauses in our own speech. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I caught your name the other day. If you gave it.” I tried not to show how much that hurt. But the sting was there. She truly remembered nothing about me. “$name.” “Right,” she said with a small nod. She picked at the napkin sitting next to her plate. [[I didn’t know you got visions]] [[Vision must have scared you pretty bad]] [[How did you know I lived here?]] “You left the shop.” I couldn’t stop the shock from entering my voice. I hadn’t meant it. But other than the ball, I had barely ever seen her leave without someone. Now, she was just standing in front of me, a long way from her safety net. I had thought that after the ball, she would clam up again. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously. “Me?” “I had a vision,” she said bluntly. “I can’t really explain it but I saw you in the middle of this cave system and you looked lost. There was a lot of water.” She stared at me, her words growing quieter and quieter. “But it looks like you’re okay. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She turned, ready to run back into the dark. “Hazel, wait,” I called out to her. I wanted to grab her. Try to show her that I was me. But my hands would just pass through her. Fate was cruel that way and I think I had done something to piss them off. Hazel stopped though. She didn’t turn around, but she was not running either. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked in desperation. Kimber and Sawyer and been watching the exchange, the two of them looking at the desperation on my face and putting two and two together. “Hazel, is it?” Kimber asked. “You run the apothecary, right?” She turned hesitantly, looking at the woman. “My mom and I do.” “Do you make brews for teas? It’s the one thing I can’t seem to master. I was wondering, if you’re amenable, if you would like to sell some here?” Kimber was jumping back and forth on her feet, genuinely excited at the prospect. Even if it was a ploy to just get Hazel to stay a bit longer. “I can do tea,” Hazel said hesitantly. Her eyes shifted back and forth between me and Kimber. “Maybe I could sample some food? See what would fit best here.” Sawyer laughed loudly. “You just made her day.” Kimber was already running into the bakery to gather some samples. Iblis reached out for her, screeching at her departure.. “Don’t mind the feral child,” Sawyer said, bouncing the toddler in his arms. “We fed him food scraps and he refuses to go away.” “Da!” Sawyer rubbed his nose against his sons. “Like a baby duckling he has imprinted on us all.” “Da! Da! Da!” “Have fun you two!” he called out to us, throwing Iblis over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He took the young boy through the unassuming door next to the bakery, leaving Hazel and I alone in the alley. We sat in awkward silence for a long moment, neither quite knowing what to do. I could see the smoke coughing from the vent above the bakery, and the smell of fresh bread baking. “Shall we?” I asked Hazel. She still looked like she was going to bolt. Fear filled her and yet she was fighting it without any reason as to why. It took her a minute, but when she nodded her head, I felt a wave of relief flood over me. Entering the bakery, Kimber had already put out a tray of food. Items she had pulled from the front display. There were a few others milling about in the main lobby but they were keeping to themselves, more on the outskirts of the brightly lit seating area. The two of us sat down across from each other, letting the sounds of the bakery fill in the pauses in our own speech. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I caught your name the other day. If you gave it.” I tried not to show how much that hurt. But the sting was there. She truly remembered nothing about me. “$name.” “Right,” she said with a small nod. She picked at the napkin sitting next to her plate. [[I didn’t know you got visions]] [[Vision must have scared you pretty bad]] [[How did you know I lived here?]] “Are you okay?” It was rare that Hazel ever left the apothecary. When she did, it was usually due to something driving her from those doors. “I’m fine,” she said with a nod, nervous energy rolling off her in waves. “Are you okay?” “Me?” “I had a vision,” she said bluntly. “I can’t really explain it but I saw you in the middle of this cave system and you looked lost. There was a lot of water.” She stared at me, her words growing quieter and quieter. “But it looks like you’re okay. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She turned, ready to run back into the dark. “Hazel, wait,” I called out to her. I wanted to grab her. Try to show her that I was me. But my hands would just pass through her. Fate was cruel that way and I think I had done something to piss them off. Hazel stopped though. She didn’t turn around, but she was not running either. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked in desperation. Kimber and Sawyer and been watching the exchange, the two of them looking at the desperation on my face and putting two and two together. “Hazel, is it?” Kimber asked. “You run the apothecary, right?” She turned hesitantly, looking at the woman. “My mom and I do.” “Do you make brews for teas? It’s the one thing I can’t seem to master. I was wondering, if you’re amenable, if you would like to sell some here?” Kimber was jumping back and forth on her feet, genuinely excited at the prospect. Even if it was a ploy to just get Hazel to stay a bit longer. “I can do tea,” Hazel said hesitantly. Her eyes shifted back and forth between me and Kimber. “Maybe I could sample some food? See what would fit best here.” Sawyer laughed loudly. “You just made her day.” Kimber was already running into the bakery to gather some samples. Iblis reached out for her, screeching at her departure.. “Don’t mind the feral child,” Sawyer said, bouncing the toddler in his arms. “We fed him food scraps and he refuses to go away.” “Da!” Sawyer rubbed his nose against his sons. “Like a baby duckling he has imprinted on us all.” “Da! Da! Da!” “Have fun you two!” he called out to us, throwing Iblis over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He took the young boy through the unassuming door next to the bakery, leaving Hazel and I alone in the alley. We sat in awkward silence for a long moment, neither quite knowing what to do. I could see the smoke coughing from the vent above the bakery, and the smell of fresh bread baking. “Shall we?” I asked Hazel. She still looked like she was going to bolt. Fear filled her and yet she was fighting it without any reason as to why. It took her a minute, but when she nodded her head, I felt a wave of relief flood over me. Entering the bakery, Kimber had already put out a tray of food. Items she had pulled from the front display. There were a few others milling about in the main lobby but they were keeping to themselves, more on the outskirts of the brightly lit seating area. The two of us sat down across from each other, letting the sounds of the bakery fill in the pauses in our own speech. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I caught your name the other day. If you gave it.” I tried not to show how much that hurt. But the sting was there. She truly remembered nothing about me. “$name.” “Right,” she said with a small nod. She picked at the napkin sitting next to her plate. [[I didn’t know you got visions]] [[Vision must have scared you pretty bad]] [[How did you know I lived here?]] “I didn’t know you had visions.” During our time together, I couldn’t remember her having one. It would have been helpful if she did and it would have undoubtedly been an avenue that she would have wanted to explore. “I haven’t for many years,” she told me. “This one took me a little by surprise. I figured I needed to pay attention to it.” There was a desperate plea welling up in me. One that begged for her to simply remember. But instead, I played it close to chest. Perhaps I had learned something from Belladonna when I had been here last. “Have you ever been here?” “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I usually stick close to home.” “And you said I was in danger?” She paused. “Well, no. I guess not. I think I assumed you were? I mean, you see someone in the middle of a dim cavern, looking around clearly not supposed to be there and you don’t immediately think good things.” I wondered what I had looked like when she peered into that moment. If the fear had been prominent during my moment of confusion. If I had somehow called out to her. “Were you? In danger?” she asked. [[Not really]] [[I was lost]] [[I felt like I was]]“That vision must have scared you pretty bad,” I told her. “To come all the way down here. It didn’t happen too long ago.” “I…” she trailed off, looking nervous. “It was strange. I wasn’t sure if… well, it must sound silly really. To think that someone you don’t know had an image of you. And I know that I know nothing about you but I couldn’t just leave you down there. Not if you were in trouble.” “It’s not silly at all,” I told her quickly. “Really?” “Yeah. Of course. It’s– it’s sweet, actually.” There was a desperate plea welling up in me. One that begged for her to simply remember. But instead, I played it close to chest. Perhaps I had learned something from Belladonna when I had been here last. “Have you ever been here?” “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I usually stick close to home.” “And you said I was in danger?” She paused. “Well, no. I guess not. I think I assumed you were? I mean, you see someone in the middle of a dim cavern, looking around clearly not supposed to be there and you don’t immediately think good things.” I wondered what I had looked like when she peered into that moment. If the fear had been prominent during my moment of confusion. If I had somehow called out to her. “Were you? In danger?” she asked. [[Not really]] [[I was lost]] [[I felt like I was]]“How did you know I lived here?” I had never told her about Artisan Alley. The impression I had gotten the other day was that she wasn’t interested in knowing anything about me. I still hadn’t dealt with that. “I didn’t.” She looked fairly confused. “I just knew I had to get to you. I thought I was going to go to the caves that I had seen you in but I was led here instead.” “Led by what?” I asked. “I–” she looked around, eyes wide and uncertain. “My heart?” There was a desperate plea welling up in me. One that begged for her to simply remember. But instead, I played it close to chest. Perhaps I had learned something from Belladonna when I had been here last. “Have you ever been here?” “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I usually stick close to home.” “And you said I was in danger?” She paused. “Well, no. I guess not. I think I assumed you were? I mean, you see someone in the middle of a dim cavern, looking around clearly not supposed to be there and you don’t immediately think good things.” I wondered what I had looked like when she peered into that moment. If the fear had been prominent during my moment of confusion. If I had somehow called out to her. “Were you? In danger?” she asked. [[Not really]] [[I was lost]] [[I felt like I was]]“Not really. I’m not sure I can be in danger.” Even if I died, wouldn’t I just come back again? Could anything down here really kill me? Transporting to an old penal colony was the least of my worries. “I must have had my vision for a reason,” she said. “What exactly happened?” If it was anyone else, I may not have said anything. Nebula was a forgotten portion of the market and I believed they liked it that way. But this was Hazel. She didn’t have a single bone in her body that would betray those people out there. So I told her. I told her from the moment I walked beneath Turners shop, the long tunnel of stars, and the forgotten village of people kicked straight from these walls, arguably thriving more than most of the people here. And then the star. The mural was the most fascinating part of it. A gate in the middle of somewhere forgotten. One that the villagers were obviously using for their own gains. “And just like that you were transported?” she asked. “I didn’t think that kind of magic was legal anymore. Though, I suppose given that they are all out there for doing illegal things, that makes sense. Do you think they've burned it by now? The mural?” “Why would she burn it?” “In case they think you’re going to bring the Velvet Guard to her doorstep. It’s what I would have done.” I never thought of it like that. No one had been at that village for years. The panic they must have felt. From my position inside the bakery, I could still see the entrance to Nebula. It was now a permanent structure beneath Turner's shop. I would have to do something to ensure that it was protected. Kimber came out, bringing with her plates upon plates of baked goods. Everything smelled decadent and rich with brandy and currant while little pots of sweet jam sat off to the side. “You just let me know what kinds of teas work best. I’ll leave you two to it.” And she ran away with a blink of an eye, not giving us a choice to ask her to join. Hazel delicately started taking bites of her food. I could see that she had lost a little weight from when I had seen her last. Grief would do that. But it felt like something more. Never before had I seen Hazel treat food with such reservation. “So $name, I get the feeling we have met before. Or at least you believe we know each other." I apparently was not doing well at hiding anything. “We do.” “But I don’t remember you,” she told me. “How can I trust you’re not making it all up.” [[I know Malcolm]] [[I know Milo]] [[I think only you can answer that]] “I was lost,” I told her. “I’m not sure why you were able to see me down there. But, I don’t think I was ever in danger.” “Where were you though?” If it was anyone else, I may not have said anything. Nebula was a forgotten portion of the market and I believed they liked it that way. But this was Hazel. She didn’t have a single bone in her body that would betray those people out there. So I told her. I told her from the moment I walked beneath Turners shop, the long tunnel of stars, and the forgotten village of people kicked straight from these walls, arguably thriving more than most of the people here. And then the star. The mural was the most fascinating part of it. A gate in the middle of somewhere forgotten. One that the villagers were obviously using for their own gains. “And just like that you were transported?” she asked. “I didn’t think that kind of magic was legal anymore. Though, I suppose given that they are all out there for doing illegal things, that makes sense. Do you think they've burned it by now? The mural?” “Why would she burn it?” “In case they think you’re going to bring the Velvet Guard to her doorstep. It’s what I would have done.” I never thought of it like that. No one had been at that village for years. The panic they must have felt. From my position inside the bakery, I could still see the entrance to Nebula. It was now a permanent structure beneath Turner's shop. I would have to do something to ensure that it was protected. Kimber came out, bringing with her plates upon plates of baked goods. Everything smelled decadent and rich with brandy and currant while little pots of sweet jam sat off to the side. “You just let me know what kinds of teas work best. I’ll leave you two to it.” And she ran away with a blink of an eye, not giving us a choice to ask her to join. Hazel delicately started taking bites of her food. I could see that she had lost a little weight from when I had seen her last. Grief would do that. But it felt like something more. Never before had I seen Hazel treat food with such reservation. “So $name, I get the feeling we have met before. Or at least you believe we know each other." I apparently was not doing well at hiding anything. “We do.” “But I don’t remember you,” she told me. “How can I trust you’re not making it all up.” [[I know Malcolm]] [[I know Milo]] [[I think only you can answer that]] “I felt like I was. In the end, I wasn’t, but it was hard to shake the feeling. I didn’t know where I was. I was placed there without really knowing where I was going.” Much like what I had been dropped to the streets without a name. Without a face. Without a direction. “That’s terrible. What happened?” If it was anyone else, I may not have said anything. Nebula was a forgotten portion of the market and I believed they liked it that way. But this was Hazel. She didn’t have a single bone in her body that would betray those people out there. So I told her. I told her from the moment I walked beneath Turners shop, the long tunnel of stars, and the forgotten village of people kicked straight from these walls, arguably thriving more than most of the people here. And then the star. The mural was the most fascinating part of it. A gate in the middle of somewhere forgotten. One that the villagers were obviously using for their own gains. “And just like that you were transported?” she asked. “I didn’t think that kind of magic was legal anymore. Though, I suppose given that they are all out there for doing illegal things, that makes sense. Do you think they've burned it by now? The mural?” “Why would she burn it?” “In case they think you’re going to bring the Velvet Guard to her doorstep. It’s what I would have done.” I never thought of it like that. No one had been at that village for years. The panic they must have felt. From my position inside the bakery, I could still see the entrance to Nebula. It was now a permanent structure beneath Turner's shop. I would have to do something to ensure that it was protected. Kimber came out, bringing with her plates upon plates of baked goods. Everything smelled decadent and rich with brandy and currant while little pots of sweet jam sat off to the side. “You just let me know what kinds of teas work best. I’ll leave you two to it.” And she ran away with a blink of an eye, not giving us a choice to ask her to join. Hazel delicately started taking bites of her food. I could see that she had lost a little weight from when I had seen her last. Grief would do that. But it felt like something more. Never before had I seen Hazel treat food with such reservation. “So $name, I get the feeling we have met before. Or at least you believe we know each other." I apparently was not doing well at hiding anything. “We do.” “But I don’t remember you,” she told me. “How can I trust you’re not making it all up.” [[I know Malcolm]] [[I know Milo]] [[I think only you can answer that]] “I know your brother,” I told her. Since getting back, Malcolm was the one I had seen the most. It didn’t have the desired effect I had been hoping for with Hazel, however. That beloved brother that she had worked so hard to get back, was still a stranger out of her grasp. “Well, I’m glad that he’s keeping in contact with someone. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him.” “That doesn’t sound like Malcolm.” “I didn’t think so either. But it’s been months.” She looked down at the table, reaching for a paper napkin to tear apart between her fingers. “Sorry. I don’t need to be telling you my family woes. That’s what my mother is for.” “Your mother,” I repeated. “Of course.” Slumping back in her seat, Hazel swallowed thickly, uncomfortable for even being here. “Given what I saw today, I know I need to trust you. But I’m finding it a little hard to do.” “Why?” “I don’t know,” she said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I just… it’s no matter. I need to just make a decision. Do you think we could take this slow? Let me get to know you? Get to trust you?” I blinked at her. “I could do that.” It wasn’t much but it was more than I had right now. And I was vowing to figure out just what was happening with her. If I could see her without fear of repercussions, then maybe I could get down to the root of whatever was holding her back from me. “Then that’s what we do,” she said. With a sigh, she pushed away the food. “I don’t really have tea to sell her.” I raised a brow. “Then why did you agree to it?” “Because I wanted to talk to you a bit more.” I felt hope bloom in my chest. Something kept calling out to her. Not erasing me entirely. “I would like an excuse to continue coming back here, in fact. So a delivery is not a bad idea. But making tea blends that are accessible for the entirety of the market would be an undertaking.” “You make lovely tea,” I told her. Though most of the time it was summoned with magic. She didn’t actually put the blend together herself. “I’ve been thinking of expanding into owning some chickens,” she told me out of nowhere. “If I do that, I could bring the eggs here. But tea does sound like a less messy adventure. What do you think I should do?” [[Aren’t you terrible with animals?]] [[Raise Chickens]] [[Make tea blends]] “I know Milo,” I blurted without thinking. Her head turned to me sharply. “That’s not the ringing endorsement you think it would be.” Because he killed me, in her eyes. He plunged his hand into my chest and turned the key. But if she didn’t remember me, why did she care? There was no betrayal if I was not a thought in her mind. “It’s not?” I fished. “No. Milo Next is a bad man.” “Why do you say that?” I asked her curiously. “Well, because– because…” she frowned. She couldn’t remember. She was mad at her best friend and she couldn’t even recall why. It was an opening, at the very least. A way to maybe poke holes in her narrative. “It doesn’t matter,” she said sadly. “None of it matters anymore with Milo.” “It doesn’t have to be that way,” I told her, wishing I could reach across the table and hold her hand. She shifted in her seat, turning her head from me. She was silent, picking at one of her muffins. “I don’t know you, $name. I’m very sorry.” I felt my heart plummet. Hazel, the girl with the sunburst smile. The warm body that would press against mine when the nights got rough. The way she would look over her shoulder at me and blush when I’d catch her in the garden. There was none of her there now. The life had been drained from her. “But,” she said slowly. “I am not going to ignore what I saw today. I was brought to you for a reason. So, maybe I should get to know you? Get to trust you?” I blinked at her. “I could do that.” It wasn’t much but it was more than I had right now. And I was vowing to figure out just what was happening with her. If I could see her without fear of repercussions, then maybe I could get down to the root of whatever was holding her back from me. “Then that’s what we do,” she said. With a sigh, she pushed away the food. “I don’t really have tea to sell her.” I raised a brow. “Then why did you agree to it?” “Because I wanted to talk to you a bit more.” I felt hope bloom in my chest. Something kept calling out to her. Not erasing me entirely. “I would like an excuse to continue coming back here, in fact. So a delivery is not a bad idea. But making tea blends that are accessible for the entirety of the market would be an undertaking.” “You make lovely tea,” I told her. Though most of the time it was summoned with magic. She didn’t actually put the blend together herself. “I’ve been thinking of expanding into owning some chickens,” she told me out of nowhere. “If I do that, I could bring the eggs here. But tea does sound like a less messy adventure. What do you think I should do?” [[Aren’t you terrible with animals?]] [[Raise Chickens]] [[Make tea blends]] “I think only you can answer that,” I told her sadly. She tipped her head to the side. “What do you mean?” “I could tell you the things I know about you. The people we know in common. But, they are all things I could have found out. And I don’t want anyone tainting my words and giving you an excuse as to why I know that information.” She frowned. “You’re speaking of my mother.” I didn’t answer her. From all the stories that Malcolm had told me, Lucinda had a way with words. And Hazel fell for them each time. It felt far too much of a coincidence for Lucinda to be around right as Hazel lost her memories. “I know she’s not a well liked woman,” Hazel said softly. “But she has changed.” “I didn’t know her before. I don’t know her now.” Hazel bent her head. “I’m sorry. Old habit. But you’re right. I need to just trust you.” “And do you?” She was silent, picking at one of her muffins. “I don’t know you, $name. I’m very sorry.” I felt my heart plummet. Hazel, the girl with the sunburst smile. The warm body that would press against mine when the nights got rough. The way she would look over her shoulder at me and blush when I’d catch her in the garden. There was none of her there now. The life had been drained from her. “But,” she said slowly. “I am not going to ignore what I saw today. I was brought to you for a reason. So, maybe I should get to know you? Get to trust you?” I blinked at her. “I could do that.” It wasn’t much but it was more than I had right now. And I was vowing to figure out just what was happening with her. If I could see her without fear of repercussions, then maybe I could get down to the root of whatever was holding her back from me. “Then that’s what we do,” she said. With a sigh, she pushed away the food. “I don’t really have tea to sell her.” I raised a brow. “Then why did you agree to it?” “Because I wanted to talk to you a bit more.” I felt hope bloom in my chest. Something kept calling out to her. Not erasing me entirely. “I would like an excuse to continue coming back here, in fact. So a delivery is not a bad idea. But making tea blends that are accessible for the entirety of the market would be an undertaking.” “You make lovely tea,” I told her. Though most of the time it was summoned with magic. She didn’t actually put the blend together herself. “I’ve been thinking of expanding into owning some chickens,” she told me out of nowhere. “If I do that, I could bring the eggs here. But tea does sound like a less messy adventure. What do you think I should do?” [[Raise Chickens]] [[Make tea blends]] [[Aren’t you terrible with animals?]]“You should raise chickens,” I told her. “You’ve always wanted a small coop. And it would be good for the garden. Plus, what is better than selling farm fresh eggs to the local baker?” “I’d have to get more than just a small coop,” she laughed, but I could see the light returning to her features. She had always had a soft spot for animals. “Yeah, but if anyone could tackle that kind of project, it’s you.” Standing, she wiped her hands on her skirt, looking at the pile of nearly untouched food in front of her. “Chickens it is then. Could you tell Kimber I’ll be by in a few days? I want to price out some of the materials for my coop.” “Of course.” Stepping away from me, she put her hand on the front door, pushing the glass open. I felt like my heart was being torn away. “It was really nice talking to you, $name.” She then walked out of the shop and was gone from the alley within moments. I felt my throat squeeze shut as she slipped away.. “Hey,” Kimbers voice said softly. “You okay?” [[I’ll be fine]] [[I miss her]] [[She doesn’t remember me]] “Why don’t you start with the tea blends. You have the ingredients. Start small and just make a few at a time. Kimber is going to love whatever you bring here.” She nodded. Standing, she wiped her hands on her skirt, looking at the pile of nearly untouched food in front of her. “Tea it is then. Could you tell Kimber I’ll be by in a few days?” “Of course.” Stepping away from me, she put her hand on the front door, pushing the glass open. I felt like my heart was being torn away. “It was really nice talking to you, $name.” She then walked out of the shop and was gone from the alley within moments. I felt my throat squeeze shut as she slipped away.. “Hey,” Kimbers voice said softly. “You okay?” [[I’ll be fine]] [[I miss her]] [[She doesn’t remember me]] <<set $hazel to "tea">>“Aren’t you terrible with animals?” I asked. Other than Mr. Billows, I had never seen an animal react kindly to her. Then again, she had been killing most of them to bring Malcolm back. “I’m not exactly their favorite,” she confessed. “But I wouldn’t sacrifice the chickens. They would be domesticated. And I think if I approach it with that energy, they’ll like me.” “I know nothing about chickens so I don’t know if that’s true. Can paper chickens even lay eggs?” “I wouldn’t be getting paper chickens,” she said. “Which makes it all the more important to keep them alive.” [[Raise Chickens]] [[Make tea blends]]“I’ll be fine,” I said. It was in part a lie. But, at the same time, seeing her again, left a new found fire in me. One that said I would just need to get her back. Because while I didn’t know what was going on, that didn’t mean I was going to give up. “Of course you will,” Sawyer said, swirling in from the back room in a flurry of silk robes. “Were you both listening in?” “Of course we were,” Sawyer said breezily before coming to sit down at the table. “Oh, baby face, you look a complete wreck. What happened? What can we do? Who do we need to bury?” Kimber looked appalled. “I thought we were done with that stuff.” “It’s metaphorical, Kimmy.” “Right.” The two of them now sat across from me, eager to help. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, however. “Something has happened to her. I know it sounds crazy but we were in a full relationship before. I lived with her for months.” “And there’s nothing?” Kimber asked. “No spark of recognition?” “No, there's obviously a spark,” Sawyer said. “No one goes running through the night on a vision about a stranger.” “She says she doesn’t remember anything about me though.” Tapping his chin, Sawyer looked perplexed. “Do you two have mutual friends?” “Malcolm is her brother.” “Then take him to go see her. He can prove that you two know each other,” Sawyer said. If only it were that simple. “There’s something going on there. Apparently Malcolm hasn’t even gone and seen her. And while I haven’t known Malcolm long, that’s weird. That’s really weird for him.” “Could he be afflicted by the same thing?” Kimber asked. I didn’t know. And wasn’t that just the story of my life thus far. I. Didn’t. Know. An excuse that was getting old, even for me. “Here,” Kimber said, seeing the look on my face. “Have some scones. It’s been a big day. Right now you just need to get your belly full and get some rest. Everything with your lady love will work out. We’ll see to that.” “Yeah,” Sawyer piped up. [[Next|All routes merge]] “I miss her,” I whispered. I was cut off from my own body. A small part of such a big whole. Yet, Hazel not being with me felt like the loss of a limb. When everything had gone the darkest, she had been there to sit with me. Hold my hand. Whisper that she loved me. And now she merely looked through me. “Sawyer!” I jumped as Kimber yelled at the top of her lungs. “$name needs us!” Sawyer appeared from the kitchen like magic. Swooping in with his silken robes. “Were you both listening in?” “Of course we were,” Sawyer said breezily before coming to sit down at the table. “Oh, baby face, you look a complete wreck. What happened? What can we do? Who do we need to bury?” Kimber looked appalled. “I thought we were done with that stuff.” “It’s metaphorical, Kimmy.” “Right.” The two of them now sat across from me, eager to help. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, however. “Something has happened to her. I know it sounds crazy but we were in a full relationship before. I lived with her for months.” “And there’s nothing?” Kimber asked. “No spark of recognition?” “No, there's obviously a spark,” Sawyer said. “No one goes running through the night on a vision about a stranger.” “She says she doesn’t remember anything about me though.” Tapping his chin, Sawyer looked perplexed. “Do you two have mutual friends?” “Malcolm is her brother.” “Then take him to go see her. He can prove that you two know each other,” Sawyer said. If only it were that simple. “There’s something going on there. Apparently Malcolm hasn’t even gone and seen her. And while I haven’t known Malcolm long, that’s weird. That’s really weird for him.” “Could he be afflicted by the same thing?” Kimber asked. I didn’t know. And wasn’t that just the story of my life thus far. I. Didn’t. Know. An excuse that was getting old, even for me. “Here,” Kimber said, seeing the look on my face. “Have some scones. It’s been a big day. Right now you just need to get your belly full and get some rest. Everything with your lady love will work out. We’ll see to that.” “Yeah,” Sawyer piped up. [[Next|All routes merge]] “She doesn’t remember me,” I said softly. Kimber looked at me sadly. I didn’t want pity. I certainly didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for the cosmic being. But this one hurt far more than I ever thought it could. Mainly, because I never thought Hazel, of all people, would be the one to forget about me. “Sawyer!” I jumped as Kimber yelled at the top of her lungs. “$name needs us!” Sawyer appeared from the kitchen like magic. Swooping in with his silken robes. “Were you both listening in?” “Of course we were,” Sawyer said breezily before coming to sit down at the table. “Oh, baby face, you look a complete wreck. What happened? What can we do? Who do we need to bury?” Kimber looked appalled. “I thought we were done with that stuff.” “It’s metaphorical, Kimmy.” “Right.” The two of them now sat across from me, eager to help. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, however. “Something has happened to her. I know it sounds crazy but we were in a full relationship before. I lived with her for months.” “And there’s nothing?” Kimber asked. “No spark of recognition?” “No, there's obviously a spark,” Sawyer said. “No one goes running through the night on a vision about a stranger.” “She says she doesn’t remember anything about me though.” Tapping his chin, Sawyer looked perplexed. “Do you two have mutual friends?” “Malcolm is her brother.” “Then take him to go see her. He can prove that you two know each other,” Sawyer said. If only it were that simple. “There’s something going on there. Apparently Malcolm hasn’t even gone and seen her. And while I haven’t known Malcolm long, that’s weird. That’s really weird for him.” “Could he be afflicted by the same thing?” Kimber asked. I didn’t know. And wasn’t that just the story of my life thus far. I. Didn’t. Know. An excuse that was getting old, even for me. “Here,” Kimber said, seeing the look on my face. “Have some scones. It’s been a big day. Right now you just need to get your belly full and get some rest. Everything with your lady love will work out. We’ll see to that.” “Yeah,” Sawyer piped up. [[Next|All routes merge]] “I’m sorry if I caused some problems today,” I told them. Walking into Nebula hadn’t been how I thought my day was going to go. “It’s alright. We crave a little chaos now and again,” Sawyer laughed. “Maybe next time don’t do it in front of Turner though?” I looked up. Turner had looked rough before Herald had led him away. I couldn’t quite pinpoint why, however. “Was he pretty mad after I left?” “Upset,” Kimber said. “For as cruel as Turner can sometimes be, he has a good heart. The second that door closed he sounded the alarm bells around here. Even went to get Herald. They tried to open the door to come and get you but it wouldn’t budge. Turner was really upset. He kept telling Herald that he fucked up again. I’m not sure what that meant but it really freaked him out.” I didn’t know Turner even in the slightest. The most words I had ever heard out of him was ‘fuck’. For him to be upset over my disappearance felt out of place. But there was no mistaking it. The man had looked wrecked when I saw him. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” I told them. “Not too mindful,” Sawyer said. “Turner doesn’t deserve that.” “Oh, stop,” Kimber admonished. “You love him just as much as I do.” Sawyer didn’t say anything to that but I could see it in his eyes. There was an unbreakable bond between the three of them. One that was born from strife. I wondered what their life story actually was. I hoped I was around long enough to find out. “I think I better head back to my place for the day,” I said with a small sigh. It was odd. I was feeling a bit tired. Far more fatigued than I had a few hours earlier. “Does the Night Market sleep?” Sawyer asked. “I think so,” I responded. “Guess I’m just going to find out.” [[Next|All routes 2]] I headed back to my place, crawling through my window and looking at my bed. In and out. In and out. I felt as if I was coming and going, leading several different lives at once. Expected in several different locations. I thought of the people within Nebula. The way they had looked at me with such suspicion. How they had locked themselves off from the so-called perfect world I had thought I was creating. The Night Market was supposed to be a safe haven. The place where misfits and lost souls were welcomed. Yet, Nebula had been cast out of the safety net for minor infractions. Left to die. Only by their own ingenuity had they survived. I wondered how many more colonies were out there. How many other little pockets of civilization were trying to survive without the heat of the lamps. Flopping back on my bed, I looked out my window. Out towards the dark horizon. In the silence of my room, I could hear them. All of them. The lost. The broken. The people weeping for their homes. How did it become this way? When had the world become so lost? Or had I just been too naive to realize that it had never been the utopia I anticipated it to be. //Burn it. Let it fall to the dark.// I sat up, looking around my room. There was no one. I was alone. Not even the air I breathed moved. I felt a shiver run down my spine as the words faded away. I couldn’t be sure if they had ever been there to begin with. But it left me unsettled. The dark was damning. It held too many secrets. Too many places for others to hide. Tonight, I would sleep. I would slip into a dreamless world and exist no longer. But tomorrow? Tomorrow I would work on getting the lights back on. <<if $miloend == "true">>[[Next|Milo/Mal ending]] <<elseif $miloend == "false">>[[Chapter Four]]<</if>>“Moon shrooms? I haven’t heard of those before.” “Well, of course you haven’t silly. They’re of my own design. I had to harvest part of the moon to crossbreed with a nameko. Then I had to plant it in just a way that the moonlight could actually reach it. Not the fake moonlight. The good moonlight. And then, only then, can they be harvested on the third full moon of each year. I was a day late this year and lost half my crop.” I just stared at her. “You really like mushrooms.” “Mushrooms are life.” With the way the mushrooms sang all around me, I was not going to disagree with her. I also knew that I was not going to be leaving this shop without buying at least a bushel of whatever she suggested. “How about I get a little sample of everything,” I told her. “Excellent!” She excitedly clapped her hands as she went around, beginning to gather items. “And uh, you wouldn’t happen to know a way out of here, do you?” She laughed. “A way out of here? That’s funny.” “Is it?” The woman paused. “Yes?” When I continued to stare at her, unsure, her face fell. “Oh. Oh no. You’re not from here, are you.” “No.” She dropped the mushrooms. “You must leave. You can’t… does this mean more are coming? Where are you even from?” [[The Night Market]] [[I'm from Artisan Alley]] [[That is a really difficult question]] “I actually don’t like mushrooms all that much. It’s the texture.” “Oh, then you haven’t had the right ones. Come. Come in. I will whip you up some tasty little treats and we’ll make a mushroom lover out of you yet.” “Oh, no. Really, I–” The woman had a surprisingly strong grip as she excitedly led me further into the shop where the fresh scent of soil grew almost unbearably strong. “Mushroom steak is my favorite but let’s not go there just yet. Maybe a bit of velvet pioppini mushrooms? They are tiny and pop in your mouth.” I shook my head, taking a full step back from her. “No mushrooms, please. I’m just here for directions.” “Directions?” There was something that came over her face then. A fear that darkened the shop. “You’re not from here.” “No.” “You need to leave,” she said urgently. “You cannot… oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. Where are you from if not here?” [[The Night Market]] [[I'm from Artisan Alley]] [[That is a really difficult question]] “Sorry, I think I wasn’t making myself incredibly clear. I mean where is this bit of the market? I’ve never seen it before.” “Our town really isn’t that big. Oh,” she paused, touching her lips. “Are you one of the ones that have been staying in their house? Did my deliveries not go through this week?” “No, it’s not that. I really don’t know where I am.” She laughed, as if I was telling her the funniest joke she’d ever heard. But upon spotting the expression on my face, her laughter fell. She ran over to lichen lined windows, drawing the burlap curtains. “You mustn’t say such things, you know,” she whispered. “I’m not sure if you are joking or not but please. I don’t want any trouble.” “And I don’t want you to have any trouble. I really don’t know where I am.” “Are you ill? If you’re ill you need to go to the chemist.” “No, I’m not…” I trailed off, trying to gather myself again. “I just got here.” Her face fell. The same fear I saw on the little girl's face when I first arrived was on this woman’s as well. “Have they remembered we’re here again? I know some hope for it but I almost would rather be forgotten. Though, new blood might not be a bad thing.” “That,” I told her. “I don’t know what any of that means.” It was then that she looked at me. Truly looked at me. Her nose scrunched up and her head tipped to the side, making the little toadstools ricochet back and forth. “Where are you from?” [[The Night Market]] [[I'm from Artisan Alley]] [[That is a really difficult question]] “The Night Market,” I told her. “This is the Night Market.” “The Night Market that’s… not here?” I didn’t know how I described it. “Night Market proper is what I hear some of them say.” “Were you escorted here?” “No.” “So the Velvet Guard didn’t drop you here?” I felt something twist in my gut. “No.” My words came out far slower than before. “Oh,” her shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, good. I mean, maybe not good. I wouldn’t advertise to others that you’re not from around here. But welcome. It’s always nice to see a new face.” I could tell that she was still nervous, but was trying her hardest to shake off the tension. “You don’t get new people here in…” “Nebula,” she filled in. “Our village is called Nebula.” “Nebula. Right. So you don’t get people coming to Nebula often, I take it.” She shrugged. “We used to. The Velvet Guard used to deposit people here all the time. They must have either forgotten about us or thought we were getting too full. We haven’t had a new prisoner here in over a decade.” “Prisoner?” “Yes. This is one of their encampments,” she said. “Do you know of the Night Market encampments?” I knew of the docks. I knew Gabriel was going to dissolve them. That the auctions were no longer allowed within the Market itself. But I didn’t know of these so called encampments. Or where they would even be kept. “I can see by your expression that you don’t.” Gathering her oversized sweater closer, she looked at me with narrowed eyes. She was only half my height and looked a lot like Kimber in the respect that I didn’t think she would clear a standard counter. Though, her shop seemed to be fitted with more things suiting her stature. “How do you feel about mushroom tea,” she asked softly. “I can see this is going to be one of //those// conversations.” I found myself seated about a stone stool with a red cap table in front of me. A flower bloomed overhead, its petals opening up to cast light down upon us. The swirling pollen glittered brightly overhead, heating my cheeks. “Here you are.” The tea itself ws earthy and tasted bitter. I sipped at it politely anyway. “I’m Grisette,” she said. “$name.” “What a lovely name,” she sighed. “Pardon me for asking but what are you? I’m a gnome myself. A druidess. Or at least I was before I came here.” “Answering that might also be a bit complicated,” I grimaced. “Don’t you worry about any of that,” she said. “Everyone here is fairly different. All walks of life. I mean, just down the road we have an Embergoyle. And next door is a shifter that has been stuck as half bird half seahag for the better part of the century.” [[Tell her you are the Night Market]] [[Tell her you are a merchant from Artisan Alley]] [[Tell her you are the construct of a comic being]] “That’s actually a really difficult question,” I told her. It struck me then that I still didn’t really know where my home was. “Not here,” I told her. “I came from that road just beyond the entrance. Not far.” “Were you escorted here?” “No.” “So the Velvet Guard didn’t drop you here?” I felt something twist in my gut. “No.” My words came out far slower than before. “Oh,” her shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, good. I mean, maybe not good. I wouldn’t advertise to others that you’re not from around here. But welcome. It’s always nice to see a new face.” I could tell that she was still nervous, but was trying her hardest to shake off the tension. “You don’t get new people here in…” “Nebula,” she filled in. “Our village is called Nebula.” “Nebula. Right. So you don’t get people coming to Nebula often, I take it.” She shrugged. “We used to. The Velvet Guard used to deposit people here all the time. They must have either forgotten about us or thought we were getting too full. We haven’t had a new prisoner here in over a decade.” “Prisoner?” “Yes. This is one of their encampments,” she said. “Do you know of the Night Market encampments?” I knew of the docks. I knew Gabriel was going to dissolve them. That the auctions were no longer allowed within the Market itself. But I didn’t know of these so called encampments. Or where they would even be kept. “I can see by your expression that you don’t.” Gathering her oversized sweater closer, she looked at me with narrowed eyes. She was only half my height and looked a lot like Kimber in the respect that I didn’t think she would clear a standard counter. Though, her shop seemed to be fitted with more things suiting her stature. “How do you feel about mushroom tea,” she asked softly. “I can see this is going to be one of //those// conversations.” I found myself seated about a stone stool with a red cap table in front of me. A flower bloomed overhead, its petals opening up to cast light down upon us. The swirling pollen glittered brightly overhead, heating my cheeks. “Here you are.” The tea itself ws earthy and tasted bitter. I sipped at it politely anyway. “I’m Grisette,” she said. “$name.” “What a lovely name,” she sighed. “Pardon me for asking but what are you? I’m a gnome myself. A druidess. Or at least I was before I came here.” “Answering that might also be a bit complicated,” I grimaced. “Don’t you worry about any of that,” she said. “Everyone here is fairly different. All walks of life. I mean, just down the road we have an Embergoyle. And next door is a shifter that has been stuck as half bird half seahag for the better part of the century.” [[Tell her you are the Night Market]] [[Tell her you are a merchant from Artisan Alley]] [[Tell her you are the construct of a comic being]] “Artisan Alley,” I told her. “I thought it was just down the road but that road kind of disappeared behind me.” “Were you escorted here?” “No.” “So the Velvet Guard didn’t drop you here?” I felt something twist in my gut. “No.” My words came out far slower than before. “Oh,” her shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, good. I mean, maybe not good. I wouldn’t advertise to others that you’re not from around here. But welcome. It’s always nice to see a new face.” I could tell that she was still nervous, but was trying her hardest to shake off the tension. “You don’t get new people here in…” “Nebula,” she filled in. “Our village is called Nebula.” “Nebula. Right. So you don’t get people coming to Nebula often, I take it.” She shrugged. “We used to. The Velvet Guard used to deposit people here all the time. They must have either forgotten about us or thought we were getting too full. We haven’t had a new prisoner here in over a decade.” “Prisoner?” “Yes. This is one of their encampments,” she said. “Do you know of the Night Market encampments?” I knew of the docks. I knew Gabriel was going to dissolve them. That the auctions were no longer allowed within the Market itself. But I didn’t know of these so called encampments. Or where they would even be kept. “I can see by your expression that you don’t.” Gathering her oversized sweater closer, she looked at me with narrowed eyes. She was only half my height and looked a lot like Kimber in the respect that I didn’t think she would clear a standard counter. Though, her shop seemed to be fitted with more things suiting her stature. “How do you feel about mushroom tea,” she asked softly. “I can see this is going to be one of //those// conversations.” I found myself seated about a stone stool with a red cap table in front of me. A flower bloomed overhead, its petals opening up to cast light down upon us. The swirling pollen glittered brightly overhead, heating my cheeks. “Here you are.” The tea itself ws earthy and tasted bitter. I sipped at it politely anyway. “I’m Grisette,” she said. “$name.” “What a lovely name,” she sighed. “Pardon me for asking but what are you? I’m a gnome myself. A druidess. Or at least I was before I came here.” “Answering that might also be a bit complicated,” I grimaced. “Don’t you worry about any of that,” she said. “Everyone here is fairly different. All walks of life. I mean, just down the road we have an Embergoyle. And next door is a shifter that has been stuck as half bird half seahag for the better part of the century.” [[Tell her you are the Night Market]] [[Tell her you are a merchant from Artisan Alley]] [[Tell her you are the construct of a comic being]] “I’m the Night Market,” I told her. “Kind of. I mean, I’m kind of incorporeal right now so I guess I’m a ghost or a spirit but… you’re freaked out.” “I’m not freaked out,” she said slowly. “I’m more… confused. I think you //think// you’re the Night Market. “I get that a lot, actually.” “Well, whatever you are, it is nice to meet you.” “You too. I wish it was under less confusing circumstances. Grisette smiled, her mushrooms perking up in happiness. I was finding I quite liked the shop gnome. She had a sweet disposition. [[How did you come here?]] [[Is everyone here criminals?]] [[Do you practice magic?]] “I’m a merchant from Artisan Alley. A newer one. Trying to establish my shop.” She tipped her head to the side, her little mushrooms swaying with her. “What do you sell?” “Oh, this and that.” It was such a painfully obvious lie that I felt bad for even trying it. But Grisette was nice. She wasn’t going to call me out on it. “Well, it is nice to meet you, $name. I’m sure your path came here for a reason.” “You too. I wish it was under less confusing circumstances. Grisette smiled, her mushrooms perking up in happiness. I was finding I quite liked the shop gnome. She had a sweet disposition. [[How did you come here?]] [[Is everyone here criminals?]] [[Do you practice magic?]] “Technically, I am the construct of a cosmic entity floating out in the nether somewhere.” It was odd that I didn’t even know the full extent of what I was. What else may even be out there. Moments slipped through. Little bits of broken information that sometimes slotted into place but more than likely just became another random and useless fact. “I’ve never met someone like that. I welcome you here, $name. It’s always so nice to meet other walks of life.” Grisette smiled, her mushrooms perking up in happiness. I was finding I quite liked the shop gnome. She had a sweet disposition. [[How did you come here?]] [[Is everyone here criminals?]] [[Do you practice magic?]] With this place being an encampment, it meant that Grisette had to have done something to get here. Despite her cute appearance and kind demeanor, I could have been standing in front of a murderer. That would track for me. “Why did they put you here in Nebula?” It didn’t strike me until after I spoke how offensive the question might have been. Even Grisette’s mushrooms looked shocked that I asked. “I was unfit for society,” she said sadly. “Too dangerous.” “But why?” “I don’t actually know. I was sold to a little pharmacist at one of the apothecaries. I got a side job on the side selling mushrooms for her spells. I didn’t know magic wasn’t allowed here. I mean, it happens all over the place. But when I tried to explain that to the guard they didn’t really want to hear it. They just scooped me up and threw me out here. Telling me that if I wandered back I would be taken by the beasts.” I couldn’t imagine this woman being unfit for the Night Market. She in fact, seemed like someone that would fit in quite nicely. [[Fuck the Guard]] [[I’m sorry this happened to you]] [[The guard is trying to change]] “Is everyone here criminals?” I asked. The mushrooms all stood at attention, eyeing me critically. Grisette’s smile fell a little. “That may be a bit rude to insinuate,” she started. “Most people are not here due to choices of their own.” “But if these are encampments, doesn’t that mean that most people did something heinous enough to be thrown out here?” I couldn’t imagine them being thrown out here for petty crimes. “You really don’t know much about the Night Market itself, do you,” she said sadly. “I fear that’s going to be a hard journey for you. Especially if you believe in the Velvet Guard.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I believed in Gabriel. But not the guard. Not entirely at least. <</if>> The guard was proven corrupt. I was a testement to that. But to this extent? “Are you saying people are here without due cause?” I asked. “Is there ever cause for throwing people into a little town in the Outlands to essentially die?” [[Fuck the Guard]] [[I’m sorry this happened to you]] [[The guard is trying to change]] “Do you practice magic?” I asked. The place seemed strange enough that I wondered if the Market's rules on magic would even reach here. “A little,” she said, though it was a bit hesitant. “The mushrooms still talk to me.” “Did you grow all of these?” That made her smile. She held out her hand towards one of the mushrooms in a nearby pot. It nuzzled her hand. “No, silly. You don’t grow mushrooms. You ask them nicely to give their life to you.” Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that. “So you’re not from the Night Market?” “Oh, morels no. I’m from… well, I can’t really remember where I’m from. It’s been so long. I remember it was dark. The goddess of Decay kept me warm. And the baby spores sang me to sleep each night.” “Was your world dying?” “Life is just a prolonged death,” she said dreamily. “How did you wind up in the Night Market?” I opened doors to people in need. My heart went out to her and I didn’t even know why. “Even after all these years I’m still not sure. I was making my way through one of the abandoned caves and I came across a field of glowing enoki. I went to go pick them but when I pulled them from the root, the ground began to crumble beneath me. Before I knew it, the barrier between me and this world collapsed. I was here but I could look up and still see the cave. But when I asked someone for a ladder, they arrested me instead.” That unfortunately sounded like the Velvet Guard. [[Fuck the Guard]] [[I’m sorry this happened to you]] [[The guard is trying to change]] “Fuck the guard,” I said. I was so sick and tired of hearing about the things they did. At this point, I was ready to dismantle it all. I wanted to get rid of the guard. They weren’t doing anything for the market that was beneficial. And while I didn’t believe that there should be a lawless community at hand, I didn’t see where the guard was doing good anymore. If they ever had. “Oh,” Grisette said, eyes wide. “I wouldn’t go that far. They just seem a bit misguided.” “How can you say that?” I asked. “After what they have done.” “The guard as an institution is terrible. No one here will disagree with that. But, sometimes I think the people that are working for the guard may be trapped.” “Trapped.” “Well, they certainly don’t all look like they want to be there.” The mushrooms nodded in agreement. It was something I hadn’t thought of yet. For some of the members of the guard, working for the institution was not even a choice. “It’s not all bad though,” she said with a smile. “I met Truffles at least.”On cue, a cross between a badger and a boar came meandering from under the front counter, his snout digging through the shop floor. “That was an Outlands beast?” “No,” Grizette laughed. “But, I am pretty sure they impregnated one. We’ll see if by the turn of the moon we have little Snuffles running around out there. I’m actually very excited to see.” I eyed the boar curiously as it began rooting around in the corner of the room. "I don't mean to be rude," Grizette continued. "It's not within me to even say what I am about to say but..." she looked around the shop before leaning forward. "You really can't be here." [[Why?]] [[That's fine. I would like to get home]] [[I was hoping to explore]]“I’m sorry this happened to you.” “It’s not your fault,” Grisette said immediately. “You don’t control the guard.” But maybe I should. It was a funny thing, really. When people heard my apology they took it as an empty platitude. But I was sorry. This was my world. My responsibility. I felt somewhat responsible for the bad things that were happening here. “I’ll need to do something about this,” I told her. “Whatever these encampments are can’t continue. And, maybe they aren’t but that doesn’t mean we should just keep you all out here.” Grisette shifted. “I don’t know how many people will really want to go back to the market. It’s been so long. Besides, I don’t think the guard has changed all that much. If there is one thing they are good at, it’s keeping people out of the market and shrouded in secrecy. I am almost certain the Outland beasts work for them. Except Truffles of course.” On cue, a cross between a badger and a boar came meandering from under the front counter, his snout digging through the shop floor. “That was an Outlands beast?” “No,” Grizette laughed. “But, I am pretty sure they impregnated one. We’ll see if by the turn of the moon we have little Snuffles running around out there. I’m actually very excited to see.” I eyed the boar curiously as it began rooting around in the corner of the room. "I don't mean to be rude," Grizette continued. "It's not within me to even say what I am about to say but..." she looked around the shop before leaning forward. "You really can't be here." [[Why?]] [[That's fine. I would like to get home]] [[I was hoping to explore]]“The Guard is trying to change,” I told her. It felt like such a hollow note after hearing that she was shoved out here. Forgotten. “Maybe you could come back to the market.” “It’s alright,” Grisette said. “I quite like it out here. It reminds me a bit of home. Plus, all is not lost. We do have the Star Sanctuary.” “The Star Sanctuary?” I had never seen someone flip into an immediate sense of embarrassment so quickly. Nervously, she drank her tea, trying to hide behind the small teacup and her locks of hair. “It’s okay,” I told her. “Do you know a way back to the market by any chance?” “No. I’m sorry. If there is one thing the Velvet Guard is good at, it’s keeping people out of the market. There’s no way back. And even if there was, the beasts that wander the Outlands are not worth the risk. They are nearly feral with hunger. Except Truffles of course.” On cue, a cross between a badger and a boar came meandering from under the front counter, his snout digging through the shop floor. “That was an Outlands beast?” “No,” Grizette laughed. “But, I am pretty sure they impregnated one. We’ll see if by the turn of the moon we have little Snuffles running around out there. I’m actually very excited to see.” I eyed the boar curiously as it began rooting around in the corner of the room. "I don't mean to be rude," Grizette continued. "It's not within me to even say what I am about to say but..." she looked around the shop before leaning forward. "You really can't be here." [[Why?]] [[That's fine. I would like to get home]] [[I was hoping to explore]] A wry smile crossed my face. “Not a fan of the Velvet Guard, I take it?” “Not a big one. No. Was a bit of a problem for me when they started dragging off friends of mine and tossing them in an environment that was hard for them to survive in. Doesn’t exactly make me want to lend them a book, you know?” I looked around, confused. “What do you mean?” “You’re in a prison,” she said bluntly. “An encampment. One the guard has forgotten but it’s still, at the roots, a place we were sent to die.” I stared at her in shock. I knew they had sent people into the Outlands but I hadn’t been aware that they placed them in small little towns. Especially ones that looked like this. “This place looks nice,” I said, feeling out of sorts. The entirety of Nebula seemed down right pleasant. “Looks can be deceiving,” the woman said. “Has anyone ever been able to leave here? Try to go back to the market and appeal?” “Didn’t say that. I just have never seen them again. And have it on good authority from the Market people that they aren’t lurking inside the Market proper.” She gave a sad little smile at that. I wondered how long she’d been here. How many she had lost. Cyrilla walked further into the shop, her tail flicking out to pick up a fallen book and reshelve it. Outside, I could hear a group of children running past. There were no windows within the shop, so I couldn’t see them other than the glimpse that was bestowed upon me from the still open door. “There are children here?” “Life did not stop just because the Guard decided it should,” Cyrilla said. “They were born here? In the Outlands?” Cyrilla was staring at one of the large cases, tapping her chin. The order of the books was obviously not to her liking. “Did you think that it just wasn’t possible once exiled? People still make connections. We have an entire society we have created without the Night Market walls. While I don’t like the Velvet Guard and they are not allowed to grace my door, I’ll give them one thing. They helped us create something beautiful far beyond their eyes.” [[How long have you been here?]] [[How do you all survive here?]] [[How did you get to Nebula?]] “Only one person knows I’m here,” I assured her. “And I don’t think he’s a friend of the Velvet Guard. I also don’t think he’ll come to get me.” She tipped her head to the side, raven curls falling around her shoulders. “That’s a sad sentiment.” Maybe it was. Or maybe Turner was just the unfortunate byproduct of me finally taking charge of my life. “Is there a problem with the guard I need to be aware of?” She raised a brow towards me. “Other than them tossing people into the Outlands and hoping they will survive with no food, water or shelter? No, I suppose not.” “Wait,” I looked around the bookshop. It was quaint and smelled of old parchment. “This is…” “A prison. Encampment. Take your place.” She gave me a sad smile at the shock on my face. “I’m sorry I’m the one to tell you. Though, the sooner the Velvet Guard bubble is popped, the better.” “Has anyone ever left here?” I asked. “Didn’t say that. I just have never seen them again. And have it on good authority from the Market people that they aren’t lurking inside the Market proper.” She gave a sad little smile at that. I wondered how long she’d been here. How many she had lost. Cyrilla walked further into the shop, her tail flicking out to pick up a fallen book and reshelve it. Outside, I could hear a group of children running past. There were no windows within the shop, so I couldn’t see them other than the glimpse that was bestowed upon me from the still open door. “There are children here?” “Life did not stop just because the Guard decided it should,” Cyrilla said. “They were born here? In the Outlands?” Cyrilla was staring at one of the large cases, tapping her chin. The order of the books was obviously not to her liking. “Did you think that it just wasn’t possible once exiled? People still make connections. We have an entire society we have created without the Night Market walls. While I don’t like the Velvet Guard and they are not allowed to grace my door, I’ll give them one thing. They helped us create something beautiful far beyond their eyes.” [[How long have you been here?]] [[How do you all survive here?]] [[How did you get to Nebula?]] “I’m not looking to start any trouble. I’m just looking for a way out. I could go back the way I came but I keep hearing about beasts that wander around out there.” “Outlands are full of them,” she said. “I wouldn’t suggest it. The fact that you got here so easily is surprising to me.” “I didn’t exactly mean to,” I confessed. “Hindsight says I maybe should have been a bit more cautious.” She crossed her arms in front of her, looking at me curiously. “Do you know where you are?” “You just said Nebula.” “No,” she said with a dawning realization. “No, I mean do you know what Nebula is.” I shook my head. “It’s a prison. An encampment.” “What?” “It’s where the Velvet Guard toss the people that they don’t feel belong in the market.” I didn’t know why I was surprised. I knew of their penchant for throwing people in the Outlands. I guess I just hadn’t really thought it would be something akin to this. “No one has managed to leave?” I asked. “Didn’t say that. I just have never seen them again. And have it on good authority from the Market people that they aren’t lurking inside the Market proper.” She gave a sad little smile at that. I wondered how long she’d been here. How many she had lost. Cyrilla walked further into the shop, her tail flicking out to pick up a fallen book and reshelve it. Outside, I could hear a group of children running past. There were no windows within the shop, so I couldn’t see them other than the glimpse that was bestowed upon me from the still open door. “There are children here?” “Life did not stop just because the Guard decided it should,” Cyrilla said. “They were born here? In the Outlands?” Cyrilla was staring at one of the large cases, tapping her chin. The order of the books was obviously not to her liking. “Did you think that it just wasn’t possible once exiled? People still make connections. We have an entire society we have created without the Night Market walls. While I don’t like the Velvet Guard and they are not allowed to grace my door, I’ll give them one thing. They helped us create something beautiful far beyond their eyes.” [[How long have you been here?]] [[How do you all survive here?]] [[How did you get to Nebula?]] “How long have you been here?” I asked. “Time is irrelevant in the Night Market, don’t you know that?” she said with a wry little smile. A year could span as long as a single hour depending on which district you were in. “Ten years, by my count.” “And you never tried to go back home?” “This is my home now. Everyone I know is here. The people I consider family are here. Besides, I’m not sure what I would even do if I went back to the market proper. I think every time I would see someone getting dragged away by the guard I’d get nosy and get myself involved.” “Oh, you would definitely have a problem with the way the market is now,” I said. The lawlessness that had taken over since the lights went out had kept the guard very busy. “And you?” Cyrilla asked. “How’d you get here?” “I stumbled here on accident.” Through a road that I may have very well created. “No one just stumbles here on accident.” I stared at her, feeling the infernal gaze burning within her, trying to get out like a wayward lantern. “I did.” “But how?” I didn’t know. There was no answer that I could give her that would satisfy her because I doubted there was an answer that would satisfy me. Turner thought I created a passage here but I didn’t know how or why and if this was truly some exiled society on the fridges of the Night Market, then how would I have even found it? No. I didn’t know how I got here. But I knew that I was brought here for a reason. Maybe instead of opening doors to other worlds and bringing people in by the droves, I was trying to find a way to help the people I already housed. “I can’t answer your question,” I told Cyrilla. “Mainly because I’m unsure of it. But I do want to tell you that what happened out here? It’s not okay. I want to help.” “Many do,” Cyrilla said, crossing her arms. “What makes you different?” [[I have the Wardens ear]] [[Changes are happening within the Market. I could make others listen]] [[I’m the Night Market]] “How do you all survive out here?” I asked. With no access to the market, it felt unlikely that they would be able to create a completely isolated society. And I suspected that the minute the guard found out about this place, they wouldn’t keep it in order. How did they hide everything from them. “We get by,” Cyrilla said. “It’s amazing what happens when everyone is in agreement together. And nothing brings about agreement faster than survival.” “I guess I just didn’t expect to see a bookstore out in the middle of nowhere.” “Everyone needs a little recreation here and there. Have to teach the children somehow.” There was a glint in her eyes. This place was far more than just a bookshop. She just wasn’t going to tell me. “And you?” Cyrilla asked. “How’d you get here?” “I stumbled here on accident.” Through a road that I may have very well created. “No one just stumbles here on accident.” I stared at her, feeling the infernal gaze burning within her, trying to get out like a wayward lantern. “I did.” “But how?” I didn’t know. There was no answer that I could give her that would satisfy her because I doubted there was an answer that would satisfy me. Turner thought I created a passage here but I didn’t know how or why and if this was truly some exiled society on the fridges of the Night Market, then how would I have even found it? No. I didn’t know how I got here. But I knew that I was brought here for a reason. Maybe instead of opening doors to other worlds and bringing people in by the droves, I was trying to find a way to help the people I already housed. “I can’t answer your question,” I told Cyrilla. “Mainly because I’m unsure of it. But I do want to tell you that what happened out here? It’s not okay. I want to help.” “Many do,” Cyrilla said, crossing her arms. “What makes you different?” [[I have the Wardens ear]] [[Changes are happening within the Market. I could make others listen]] [[I’m the Night Market]] “How did you come to be in Nebula?” I asked, curious as to the road that brought her here. “I walked,” she said. “They forced you to walk here?” She laughed, the sound rich and full. In another life, she would have been someone I would have loved to sit and converse with. “No,” she told me. “I chose to be here.” “Why?” “Because I saw all the people who were being forced out of the market. The families that were separated. And all I could think is what kind of joy are these people going to be able to cultivate? Life is going to be so hard for them now. They would need someplace they could come and unwind. A safe haven that they could talk freely. Thus, all of this was born.” I looked around at the shop itself. The high stretching shelves. The books piled in nearly every corner. The place was warm and full of love. Yet I could see it. Like it was a memory playing out in front of me. The ghosts of old meetings that took place here. Plans. Moments that were hatched in order for the community to survive and for the next generation to begin anew. “And you?” Cyrilla asked. “How’d you get here?” “I stumbled here on accident.” Through a road that I may have very well created. “No one just stumbles here on accident.” I stared at her, feeling the infernal gaze burning within her, trying to get out like a wayward lantern. “I did.” “But how?” I didn’t know. There was no answer that I could give her that would satisfy her because I doubted there was an answer that would satisfy me. Turner thought I created a passage here but I didn’t know how or why and if this was truly some exiled society on the fridges of the Night Market, then how would I have even found it? No. I didn’t know how I got here. But I knew that I was brought here for a reason. Maybe instead of opening doors to other worlds and bringing people in by the droves, I was trying to find a way to help the people I already housed. “I can’t answer your question,” I told Cyrilla. “Mainly because I’m unsure of it. But I do want to tell you that what happened out here? It’s not okay. I want to help.” “Many do,” Cyrilla said, crossing her arms. “What makes you different?” [[I have the Wardens ear]] [[Changes are happening within the Market. I could make others listen]] [[I’m the Night Market]] “I have the Wardens ear,” I told her. “I could talk to him about everything that is happening here.” Her arms crossed over her chest as she took a step back. “Are you here on his behalf?” “No,” I said quickly. “No. He doesn’t know I’m here. All I’m saying is I could do something. I could talk to him and–” She held up her hand. “I think it’s time you leave.” She wandered into the stacks, her tails swishing behind her. “There are plenty of people who would not take kindly to you being here. Especially with your association with the Warden.” When I found her, she was halfway up a ladder, tapping at the spines of several volumes. Pulling out a tome, she opened it up, observing a few of the words. She tossed it down to me after a moment. “What’s this?” “Journals. Nothing big. Just little things that people that have lived here have written.” The book was thick. An entire history of people were contained inside that book. Stories of the lives lived out here in the Outlands. “Why are you giving it to me?” “I think you might need to read it,” she said, climbing down. “There may be some perspective you need to gain. I’m not saying you are naive. I’m saying the knowledge has not been given to you. Or the people of the market.” I stared at the volume. The leather bound spine and the uneven pages of parchment. “How many stories are in here?” “About a hundred.” “That’s a lot.” She walked around me, her tail tapping against the ground. It pointed towards the back wall that she had just been halfway up. “All of those books contain stories of the people that have lived in Nebula.” My eyes widened. There were hundreds of books. The stories had to date back thousands of years. “And with that,” she said sadly. “You are going to need to leave.” [[I want to stay and help]] [[I don't know how to get home]] [[How am I supposed to just forget this place?]]“Changes are happening within the market,” I urged her. “I could make others listen. We could dismantle all of this.” “Dismantle years of oppression just because you say so? I really wish it was that easy.” “It might be. Given who I am. We could at least try.” She looked at me sadly. This was not the first time these kinds of words filtered through this room. I wondered if there was a book here that could regale me with everything that had transpired here. “Look,” she said, trying to be kind. “You don’t belong here.” She wandered into the stacks, humming to herself. I was compelled to follow. “Most of the people here are here against their will. And they would love to trade places with you.” When I found her, she was halfway up a wall, tapping her fingers against the spines of old and frayed books. Pulling out a tome, she opened it up, observing a few of the words. She tossed it down to me after a moment. “What’s this?” “Journals. Nothing big. Just little things that people that have lived here have written.” The book was thick. An entire history of people were contained inside that book. Stories of the lives lived out here in the Outlands. “Why are you giving it to me?” “I think you might need to read it,” she said, climbing down. “There may be some perspective you need to gain. I’m not saying you are naive. I’m saying the knowledge has not been given to you. Or the people of the market.” I stared at the volume. The leather bound spine and the uneven pages of parchment. “How many stories are in here?” “About a hundred.” “That’s a lot.” She walked around me, her tail tapping against the ground. It pointed towards the back wall that she had just been halfway up. “All of those books contain stories of the people that have lived in Nebula.” My eyes widened. There were hundreds of books. The stories had to date back thousands of years. “And with that,” she said sadly. “You are going to need to leave.” “That,” she said, hopping down lithely. “Is passage to the Star Sanctuary. I think you’ll find better answers there.” “I wasn’t here looking for answers to a question,” I told her. She stared at me expectantly, indicating that the conversation was done. I looked down at the book before turning my attention back to the woman before me. “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll figure out a way to help you all.” “I hope you don’t.” Cracking open the book, a beautiful world of bronze aqueducts swirled before me. And as I blinked, I was knee deep in water, the book no longer in sight. [[I want to stay and help]] [[I don't know how to get home]] [[How am I supposed to just forget this place?]]“Because as crazy as this sounds, I’m the Night Market.” Cyrilla looked at me, unimpressed. “I am,” I assured her. “I’m the embodiment of the world in which you live.” “Right,” Cyrilla said. “And I’m the Baron of the Books.” “I don’t know if you really want to aspire to that. I’ve met them both and they are scary in their own right.” “Look, $name, we get people here all the time believing they are the Night Market. That story is as old as time. Until you can show me a little bit of proof, I’m going to chalk it all up to one of these stories within my books.” There had to be a way to prove it. A way to show her that I was telling the truth. Gain her trust. “But, I will agree with one thing,” Cyrilla continued. “You don’t belong here.” She wandered into the stacks, humming to herself. I was compelled to follow. “Most of the people here are here against their will. And they would love to trade places with you.” When I found her, she was halfway up a wall, tapping her fingers against the spines of old and frayed books. Pulling out a tome, she opened it up, observing a few of the words. She tossed it down to me after a moment. “What’s this?” “Journals. Nothing big. Just little things that people that have lived here have written.” The book was thick. An entire history of people were contained inside that book. Stories of the lives lived out here in the Outlands. “Why are you giving it to me?” “I think you might need to read it,” she said, climbing down. “There may be some perspective you need to gain. I’m not saying you are naive. I’m saying the knowledge has not been given to you. Or the people of the market.” I stared at the volume. The leather bound spine and the uneven pages of parchment. “How many stories are in here?” “About a hundred.” “That’s a lot.” She walked around me, her tail tapping against the ground. It pointed towards the back wall that she had just been halfway up. “All of those books contain stories of the people that have lived in Nebula.” My eyes widened. There were hundreds of books. The stories had to date back thousands of years. “And with that,” she said sadly. “You are going to need to leave.” “That,” she said, hopping down lithely. “Is passage to the Star Sanctuary. I think you’ll find better answers there.” “I wasn’t here looking for answers to a question,” I told her. She stared at me expectantly, indicating that the conversation was done. I looked down at the book before turning my attention back to the woman before me. “Thank you,” I said. “I’ll figure out a way to help you all.” “I hope you don’t.” Cracking open the book, a beautiful world of bronze aqueducts swirled before me. And as I blinked, I was knee deep in water, the book no longer in sight. [[I want to stay and help]] [[I don't know how to get home]] [[How am I supposed to just forget this place?]] The door to my room was open. It knocked against the wall rhythmically, coaxing me from my dreams. My feet hit the ground, bare and cold. That same cloudy feeling that had pressed in around me when I was wandering the market, was there now. I felt half asleep, my head muzzy. The sound of chatter filtered in through the door, clinking glasses and raucous laughter. It was inviting. Calling to me in this drugged state. When I stepped over the thresh hold, the room came to life. A fire burned in the hearth as patrons wandered around, their drinks sloshing sloppily over the sides of their hands. I blinked, standing next to a large wrap around bar that was polished in the candlelight set up between amber and dark green bottles. “Damn it.” I whipped my head to the side where I was greeted with Milo Next. He stood, a large glass of beer in his hands. But he was looking right through me. He muttered something under his breath, gathering his thoughts and taking a sip from his glass as he stepped forward. He walked right by me and as I stepped back, bumping into a patron, I realized no one could see me. “How the hell do you keep finding me?” Milo walked over to a table, kicking out his chair. Malcolm was already sitting there, a glass of steaming tea in his hand. “Because you’re not as adept at stealth as you like to think you are.” “Bullshit,” he retorted, brandishing an unlit cigarette at Malcolm as he set his glass down. “I have stayed out of your line of sight for months. What changed?” Leaning back in his chair , Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe I just let you stay out of my sight.” “No. Not buying it. I could believe that stuff when we were younger, Mal, but I’m not falling for it. Spill.” A soft smile curled at the corners of Malcolm’s lips. I came up and sat down between the two of them, tapping my hand on the table. Neither of them reacted. “I just had to get your tail once,” he confessed. “The second I did, got to see you and the state you’re in, I pieced together where you would go.” “That also sounds like a crock of shit.” Snatching Milo’s beer, Malcolm sipped at it. “It’s not. If you were a man possessed with a mission, you’d be at the old areas in the Outlands. If you were not guilty, the main area of the market. If you were tired, you’d stick near Feebus’s place. And, if you were trying and wanting to come home? You’d stick near mine.” Milo blinked at him, unsure how he felt that he was apparently that transparent. “Give me back my beer. You don’t even drink.” “I saw you rob those two spice merchants to buy this. I don’t feel bad.” Malcolm gave it back to him though, taking his tea instead. “Come home, Button. The band aid has been ripped. You and $name have seen each other. This hiding has got to stop.” “Just because $name and I have locked eyes, doesn’t mean that there’s not people who want to kill me. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Belladonna is ready to put me in a cage and torture me for the rest of her life. <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>Gabriel is going to lock me up in the deepest cell possible and forget the key.<</if>> Besides, I think the more I’m away. The better.” “Why?” Malcolm asked. “Because of $name?” Each time my name was exchanged, I saw it. A physical flinch from Milo. As if he was being hit each time I was mentioned. “Of course I do- I did what I had to Mal, but that doesn’t mean-” he huffed, shaking his head and looking down. “$name was a complete amnesiac when ?they first came into the market. Brand spanking new with a head full of stolen memories that didn’t line up to make any logical sense. A patchwork that somehow became a person. A person I //liked//. Someone who was funny, and compassionate and brave and too fucking nice. ?Their larger self had to see the bigger picture but I’m fucking terrified that $name didn’t. That ?they won’t understand. Just like Belladonna and Gabriel and Hazel don’t.” The words had all come out in a rush, Milo’s fears laid bare on the table. He ducked his head, clutching the glass and falling silent for a moment. I felt my breath catch. The world disappearing. Suddenly it was just the three of us at this table. “I did it to save ?them,” the words came out small, “I wouldn’t change it. Even if I had to experience that pain over and over again I- I //had// to, Mal.” The table that we sat at was small but the space between the three of us suddenly felt insurmountable. Malcolm hated that face on Milo. The one of uncertainty. The one that said he was second guessing it all. “Was there another option?” Malcolm asked. Milo’s fingers were white around his glass, clutching it like a lifeline that would provide answers he hadn’t been able to find. “There could have been. The market was dying and I had about a decade to deal with it. And I tried. I didn’t sit back and pretend like it wasn’t happening.” He paused. “Okay, maybe I did the first year but then that left me nine more years and– fuck.” Pushing back from the table he made to rise but then suddenly thought better of it. It was an expulsion, though. Energy and frustration and nerves that Malcolm knew he hadn’t felt comfortable showing for so long. Malcolm wondered if he really had anyone over the last decade. Sitting, head in hands, he mumbled out his fears. “What if I missed something? What if there had been another way and I just hadn’t seen it? You think Lucinda was the answer I thought of nine years ago? I looked //everywhere//. I spent half a year in the Outland seeking out the ancients and their magics. I went to the sights of the old lanterns. I– but you know me. Responsibility isn’t my forte, right? What if an answer, a better answer, was there all along and I just was too dumb to fucking see it?” Malcolm’s hand enveloped Milo’s own. Brown skin covering a swath of freckles and a Baron ring they both had worn. “I wish I had been there,” Malcolm said earnestly. “I wish I could have seen those places and done those things with you. I will never know if what you say is right or wrong. I will never know if what you did was all that could have been done. Because I //wasn’t// there. Because you were desperate enough to turn to foul magic like that. But what I can say is this; you are not stupid, Milo Next. You are impulsive and emotional and quick to anger. But you aren’t stupid. And maybe what you did wasn’t perfect; but we still have a world to walk on. The lights went out but the streets are standing. So unless someone walks up to us and thoroughly explains exactly how they could have done it better, I’m going to need you to stop with the self deprecation.” MIlo’s eyes were wet. The grip he had around his drink tight as he vibrated with everything he had tried to keep in these last few months. But if there was one thing I knew about Mal, it was that he was unwavering. He had a way about dismantling walls without saying a single word. “I hate that ?they had to die,” Milo eventually said, a tear slipping down his cheek. His voice was small and raw and I could tell the grip on Malcolm's hand was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart. <<if $miloro == "false">> “$name was my friend.” “I know, Button.” “I had a friend and I just threw it all away.<<elseif $miloro == "true">> “$name was my friend,” he said, voice tight. “I loved ?them, Mal. I love ?them now.” “I know, Button,” Malcolm whispered. “Fuck,” he hissed. His breath hitched and his body began to shudder. “Mal. I loved ?them and I killed ?them. I made the choice for ?them to die in my arms and I was too much of a coward to even tell ?them why. Who does that? What kind of monster does that?”<</if>> [[It didn’t matter. I couldn’t forgive him]] [[I knew we were on the path of forgiveness]] <<if $miloro == "true">>[[I was going to need to end it with Milo]] [[I knew I would forgive him eventually]]<</if>> It didn’t matter. There was very little sympathy that I felt from his words. I would have to work with him. This much I knew. But, it didn’t mean that I had to tell him it was okay. I didn’t need to ease his conscious. No, I’d leave Milo to Malcolm. Let Mal tell me what I needed to know. For now, Milo Next and I were on shaky ground together. Now, I needed to find out who exactly hated us enough to do any of this. Because someone out there wanted to ruin our lives and they had very nearly succeeded. [[Chapter Four]] I wanted to reach out and take Milo's hand. To let him know that while we were on shaky ground, I understood. And eventually, this could be forgiven. We both had confessions we needed to make. We were both at fault for the events of the ball. “$name went underground, Milo,” Malcolm said. “?They were buried with the intent to return. And ?they did. What I am more concerned about right now, is how you got manipulated. How Taliesin even got to you this way. This isn’t like you.” His gaze softened, his voice dropping into something soft. “You don’t have to do it alone, anymore.” Milo looked down at their intertwined hands. “I never wanted to do this alone to begin with,” he said, curling his fingers against Mal’s and hooking his thumb against the pulse of his wrist. “Then why did you?” It was the one thing that no one could understand. Milo was stubborn but he had never been so stubborn that he didn’t seek help when the cards were stacked against him. While Malcolm had always been that help, he had had others. Milo had an easy smile and a charm that made him many friends. Yet, he had sought no one. “The Fates,” Milo explained, eyes searching the room as his voice dipped to a whisper. “They told me I couldn’t tell anyone. That if I did, it would change the course of the future. That I no longer would have the choice within my hands.” “The choice? As in you’d–” “No,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t about my own death. The way they explained it was that there was a clear path that led to the market's survival. But, if I breathed a word of what was to come, revealed the threads they had shown me, then the very fabric of the future would unravel. Maybe that would mean the moment would never come to pass or maybe it meant that there was no hope. I don’t know. But after thinking about it, I didn’t want to take the chance, Mal. Everyone here would have been gone. Just forgotten. I– I couldn’t stand that thought.” Malcolm frowned, “That doesn’t make sense.” “Does it have to make sense? It’s the Fates. They are in control of every thread of our lives.” It was my turn to frown. That wasn’t what the Fates had told me when I met them. They weren’t in charge of anything. They were simply there to guard the future. They were tellers of a story untold but they did not adhere to their own goals. “Milo, the Fates don’t interfere. It’s part of their edict.”’ “What do you mean?” Milo couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice, “what the hell do you mean by that, Mal?” “They can’t dissuade people from courses of action,” Malcolm told him, the music of the bar around us fading in and out as the depth of their conversation increased. “They don’t even give warnings. They just state things as they are.” “I-” Milo sat back in his seat, taking his hand from Malcolm’s. “How do you know that?” “It’s the entire concept of Fate,” Malcolm shook his head, brow knit with confusion. “What was, what is, what will be. Not what ‘might be if you don’t do this very specific thing’.” “Neve is one of the Fates, though. She wouldn’t lie.” “I’m not saying she did. I’m just saying it doesn’t make sense.” Milo sat there, hand curled around his half empty glass. It was cheap alcohol and he could already feel the telling burn. The thoughts were churning in his head and I tried to access them. The little moments that I knew I stored. The conversations that Milo actually had. But they were lost to me. But to Milo, they were playing out right before his eyes again. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t know why they broke the rules for me but they did.” “Button,” Mal reached across the table, tapping at the back of his hand to gain his attention. “Think it through. I’m not saying you’re wrong. All I’m saying is think it through. This is a pretty big game you are in. There’s bound to be more players than even you or I know.” “Who, Mal? Who is doing some weird nefarious bullshit and playing puppeteer to our lives?” He was shouting now, the other patrons of the bar turning to look at him. Malcolm was hushing him, leaning in closer to try and get him to calm down. “That’s the kind of bullshit your mother would do. What? Suddenly she’s back and our lives are all fucked up again?” The sound was sucked out of the bar with a pop. Milo downed the rest of his beer, slamming the glass on the table. But then he looked at Malcolm, the man's face devoid of color. “What?” Milo asked. Malcolm swallowed. “My mom is alive?” [[Chapter Four]] It didn’t matter. There was very little sympathy that I felt from his words. Maybe I should have. Maybe I needed to show more compassion. But I just couldn’t. The path with Milo was far too confusing. I didn’t think that things could continue with him from this point forward. I left them then. Standing up, I walked to the tavern door. I didn’t know if it would lead back to my house. I didn’t even know if I cared. I needed to take a walk. To remember what I had with that man back there and grieve for what could have been. But I couldn’t base a relationship on lies. There was no going forward for him and I. I’d leave Milo to Malcolm. Let Mal tell me what I needed to know. For now, Milo Next and I were over. This was the end of him and I. Now, I needed to find out who exactly hated us enough to do any of this. Because someone out there wanted to ruin our lives and they had very nearly succeeded. [[Chapter Four]] I wanted to reach out and take Milo into my arms. To hold his head to my shoulder and tell him it was going to be okay. But, in the dramatic irony that was my life, they still couldn’t see me. I was still just looking in, unable to act. “$name went underground, Milo,” Malcolm said. “?They were buried with the intent to return. And ?they did. What I am more concerned about right now, is how you got manipulated. How Taliesin even got to you this way. This isn’t like you.” His gaze softened, his voice dropping into something soft. “You don’t have to do it alone, anymore.” Milo looked down at their intertwined hands. “I never wanted to do this alone to begin with,” he said, curling his fingers against Mal’s and hooking his thumb against the pulse of his wrist. “I wanted $name to catch me. So many times I almost told ?them.” “Then why didn’t you?” It was the one thing that no one could understand. Milo was stubborn but he had never been so stubborn that he didn’t seek help when the cards were stacked against him. While Malcolm had always been that help, he had had others. Milo had an easy smile and a charm that made him many friends. Yet, he had sought no one. “The Fates,” Milo explained, eyes searching the room as his voice dipped to a whisper. “They told me I couldn’t tell anyone. That if I did, it would change the course of the future. That I no longer would have the choice within my hands.” “The choice? As in you’d–” “No,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t about my own death. The way they explained it was that there was a clear path that led to the market's survival. But, if I breathed a word of what was to come, revealed the threads they had shown me, then the very fabric of the future would unravel. Maybe that would mean the moment would never come to pass or maybe it meant that there was no hope. I don’t know. But after thinking about it, I didn’t want to take the chance, Mal. Everyone here would have been gone. Just forgotten. I– I couldn’t stand that thought.” Malcolm frowned, “That doesn’t make sense.” “Does it have to make sense? It’s the Fates. They are in control of every thread of our lives.” It was my turn to frown. That wasn’t what the Fates had told me when I met them. They weren’t in charge of anything. They were simply there to guard the future. They were tellers of a story untold but they did not adhere to their own goals. “Milo, the Fates don’t interfere. It’s part of their edict.”’ “What do you mean?” Milo couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice, “what the hell do you mean by that, Mal?” “They can’t dissuade people from courses of action,” Malcolm told him, the music of the bar around us fading in and out as the depth of their conversation increased. “They don’t even give warnings. They just state things as they are.” “I-” Milo sat back in his seat, taking his hand from Malcolm’s. “How do you know that?” “It’s the entire concept of Fate,” Malcolm shook his head, brow knit with confusion. “What was, what is, what will be. Not what ‘might be if you don’t do this very specific thing’.” “Neve is one of the Fates, though. She wouldn’t lie.” “I’m not saying she did. I’m just saying it doesn’t make sense.” Milo sat there, hand curled around his half empty glass. It was cheap alcohol and he could already feel the telling burn. The thoughts were churning in his head and I tried to access them. The little moments that I knew I stored. The conversations that Milo actually had. But they were lost to me. But to Milo, they were playing out right before his eyes again. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t know why they broke the rules for me but they did.” “Button,” Mal reached across the table, tapping at the back of his hand to gain his attention. “Think it through. I’m not saying you’re wrong. All I’m saying is think it through. This is a pretty big game you are in. There’s bound to be more players than even you or I know.” “Who, Mal? Who is doing some weird nefarious bullshit and playing puppeteer to our lives?” He was shouting now, the other patrons of the bar turning to look at him. Malcolm was hushing him, leaning in closer to try and get him to calm down. “That’s the kind of bullshit your mother would do. What? Suddenly she’s back and our lives are all fucked up again?” The sound was sucked out of the bar with a pop. Milo downed the rest of his beer, slamming the glass on the table. But then he looked at Malcolm, the man's face devoid of color. “What?” Milo asked. Malcolm swallowed. “My mom is alive?” [[Chapter Four]] “We need to run,” I told them. “Just make it to the grave.” “You think they’re goin’ to just disappear because we reach the grave?” Milo asked. “You nuts?” “Give me another option then.” “We face them,” Milo started. “We don’t let them win. Aren’t you sick of runnin’, $name?” I whipped my gaze towards him but saw nothing but a challenge in his eyes. There was an aching twist in my belly at his words. Because while I hated that they came from him, I was even more irritated that there was some truth in them. Then again, Milo was great at projecting. “I may be sick of running, but don’t put your own problems on me either.” “We can talk about this later,” Malcolm urged. “We need to go.” We began weaving through the ghosts, trying not to touch them as we made our way towards the grave. I could feel their eyes on me though. The way they were following each move I made. There was a dull thrum that surrounded us. Whispers from beyond accusing me of things I was not yet ready to hear. “Keep your gaze forward,” Malcolm suggested. I wanted to ask if he heard it too. If either of them did. But their voices felt like they were choking me. Like there was a hand around my throat, tightening slowly until my windpipe was screaming in pain. Yet I kept walking. Like nothing was happening. My eyes wide as tears began to gather in my voidless gaze, dripping down my cheeks in shiny tracks of iridescent silver. “Fuck!” I gasped loudly as Milo suddenly lunged for me, grabbing at something that was around my neck. I stumbled backwards, falling into Malcolm’s chest as the ghosts around us began screaming in defiance. I covered my ears, trying to fill my lungs with air again. And with a snap, they were gone. Every ghost, every voice, and every suffocating whisper, whisked away. Milo wiped the blood that was leaking from his ear, turning a concerned gaze towards me. <<if $miloro == "true">> It hardened when he saw me in Malcolm’s arms. While he hid it well, I still saw the way his eyes flickered against the way that Malcolm held me. And how comfortable I was being near him. <<elseif $miloro == "false">> It faltered, however as the danger passed. Like he was fully aware that he didn’t get to show concern anymore. It felt false after the events that had unfolded. At least to him.<</if>> “Wasn’t quite expecting that,” Malcolm murmured. “Ah, no. This is a typical evening. You just don’t get out much,” Milo said, panting a little. Malcolm shot him a glare. “You really think this is a time for a joke?” “Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood.” Brushing past us, he headed off down the path to my grave. [[Just let him go]] [[Wait. Milo. It's okay]] [[Give him a minute]]“We need to douse them in light,” I told Malcolm. “Get rid of the shadows. If we don’t, I don’t think these people will ever be returning to the Night Market.” “I’m not my sister, Lamplight. Or you. I don’t have light readily available.” I looked around, feeling the panic begin to rise in my chest as the screams around me intensified. I could feel it. As each one faded away from this world. I could feel their lives being ripped from me somewhere in the beyond, tearing small and irreparable holes through my body. “The candles,” I gasped. “Throw the candles at them.” Malcolm didn’t even hesitate. Bending down, he picked up one of the waxy pillars that lit the path and threw it as hard as he could at the shadow closest to us. It reared back as a hole was burned through its midsection. “Well, shit,” Milo muttered from behind us. He too then picked up a candle and chucked it. I tried to help. The concentration it took for me to pick up even the smallest flame was more than I anticipated. But slowly, we began pelting the shadows, watching as they were torn further and further apart, until they resembled nothing of what they once were. Meanwhile, the ghosts didn’t move. They didn’t even try to stop what was happening to them. They just watched us with a mile long stare. And when it was done, they turned at once, fading back into their graves. “Wasn’t quite expecting that,” Malcolm murmured. “Ah, no. This is a typical evening. You just don’t get out much,” Milo said, panting a little. Malcolm shot him a glare. “You really think this is a time for a joke?” “Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood.” Brushing past us, he headed off down the path to my grave. [[Just let him go]] [[Wait. Milo. It's okay]] [[Give him a minute]]“Do something!” They were just standing there. Why were they just standing there? They could see it, couldn’t they? The way the shadows were erasing them. One by one they were beginning to perish and I wasn’t sure any sort of clock would ever bring them back. And yet, they did nothing. Absolutely nothing. “You have to do something,” I tried again, screaming over the sound of the dying. The children's cries as they were all consumed. I caught the eye of an elderly woman, the shadow fat and gluttonous at her back. “Why?” she asked. “You didn’t.” And she was gone. Disappearing within the murky edges of something that never should have been. Erased without a whisper. “Mal, get ?them to ?their grave now,” Milo was yelling. Malcolm turned to me, reaching out and grabbing my hand. Together, we ducked our heads, navigating through the graveyard. The shadows reached for us as we dodged out of their way. I could feel the cool embrace of stardust caress my skin. Something was so familiar about it all. It gave me a longing for home. “Close your eyes,” Malcolm yelled at me. I trusted him enough to do as he said. And the second I did, I could feel a different sort of heat hit me. One made of artificial light and that smelled like antiseptic. The shadows screamed, a demonic gasp that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. And then the graveyard was silent. I could hear Milo panting as he rushed towards the two of us and only then did I dare to crack open my eyes. The ghosts were still there, but they were fading. Slowly dissipating back towards their graves and laying down for sleep. “You two okay?” MIlo asked. “What'd you do?” I demanded. “Opened a door to the Dollmakers,” he said, hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. “His heat lamps are still on and they're the brightest things I’ve ever seen in the market.” “So you can still open doors just fine then,” Malcolm intoned. Milo froze, his entire body going rigid. When he stood, he didn’t look at either of us. “Better get to that damn grave,” he muttered, stalking off. “Milo,” Mal called out. [[Just let him go]] [[Wait. Milo. It's okay]] [[Give him a minute]] “Give him a minute,” I told Malcolm. I stared after Milo curiously. For a moment, he had been Milo again. <<if $miloro == "true">> My Milo. <</if>> And then it had all changed. The small reminder of who he was, what he had done, dismantled everything. I could see it as he retreated. Through the lines of his back. “I don’t know if this is something that we’re going to be able to do with him,” Malcolm expressed calmly. “I want to. I really do. But, things get volatile when he’s around.” I frowned. “You think the ghost's reaction today is because of him?” “It’s never happened before.” My gaze ticked back to where Milo had wandered. He was out of my sight now. Was he really the catalyst? Or was this just simply another byproduct of the lanterns going out. I shook my head. “Come on. Let's get to my grave. We aren’t going to learn anything by standing here.” [[Next|Graveyard merger]]“Wait. Milo, just wait. It’s okay.” He stopped, not quite retreating but ready to run if need be. “I know this is awkward for all of us but we do need to figure out how to kind of work together here,” I suggested, looking between him and Malcolm. “Can we do that?” It was a bit telling that neither of them answered. While I didn’t think they were actively looking to work against each other, I didn’t know if they knew how to work together anymore. Or with me. “We walk to the gravestone together,” Malcolm suggested. Always the more pragmatic one. The one willing to wave the white flag. I just watched Milo shoved his hands in his pockets, head hanging down. “Yeah,” he said, voice a little rough. “We’ll walk there together.” The short trip there was quiet. Neither of the men dared to look at each other or me. I let my head fall back to look at the night sky, feeling their mutual thoughts flanking either side of me. The journey ahead was far longer than I think any of us had time for. Yet, I didn’t know how to speed us up. Or even to ease the pain of the path we all walked. We reached my gravestone without further incident and Milo kneeled in front of him. He placed his fingers within the upturned soil. The coffin remained unmoved. I tried to think if I had seen a ghost in this vicinity when we arrived but the sea of dead had been far too big to peer through. Milo’s hands were on the ground, his ringed fingers brushing against the grass and dirt as he pressed down. “Shit.” “You feel it?” Malcolm asked. He nodded, turning his head to me. “This how you got out?” “No. I just kind of appeared,” I told him. “I had been wandering for some time but it has mainly been to harass your buddy Taliesin. And to look in on all of you.” If Milo was taken aback by the news, he didn’t show it. “Can I see inside the grave?” “Turner and Herald rigged it so you could. Just lift the lid.” For a moment, I thought he would refuse. There was something in his eyes that made them go damp. But he stood, brushing the grass from his knees before unlatching the lid to my grave. The magic within was bright, bursting out of the ground around us in tiny slivers. “It didn’t do that before,” I said. Milo was looking at it with a certain amount of discomfort. “I didn’t open that. I cut off all gates to outside worlds. I’ve opened a few here but I’ve tried to avoid it. I didn’t know if that would fuck everything up.” “It has your magic on it,” Malcolm said. “And $name ‘s. But I keep feeling something more.” “It feels new,” I said. “Something we hadn’t ever encountered before.” “So what do you want me to do about it?” Milo asked, standing from his crouched position. Still looking at the grave as if it were an enigma made specifically for him. [[We need more information about the gate]] [[See if you can open the gate, Milo]] [[Close the gate, Milo]] Malcolm and I followed Milo, finding him kneeling not by the coffin but by the gravestone itself. The coffin remained unmoved. I tried to think if I had seen a ghost in this vicinity when we arrived but the sea of dead had been far too big to peer through. Milo’s hands were on the ground, his ringed fingers brushing against the grass and dirt as he pressed down. “Shit.” “You feel it?” Malcolm asked. He nodded, turning his head to me. “This how you got out?” “No. I just kind of appeared,” I told him. “I had been wandering for some time but it has mainly been to harass your buddy Taliesin. And to look in on all of you.” If Milo was taken aback by the news, he didn’t show it. “Can I see inside the grave?” “Turner and Herald rigged it so you could. Just lift the lid.” For a moment, I thought he would refuse. There was something in his eyes that made them go damp. But he stood, brushing the grass from his knees before unlatching the lid to my grave. The magic within was bright, bursting out of the ground around us in tiny slivers. “It didn’t do that before,” I said. Milo was looking at it with a certain amount of discomfort. “I didn’t open that. I cut off all gates to outside worlds. I’ve opened a few here but I’ve tried to avoid it. I didn’t know if that would fuck everything up.” “It has your magic on it,” Malcolm said. “And $name ‘s. But I keep feeling something more.” “It feels new,” I said. “Something we hadn’t ever encountered before.” “So what do you want me to do about it?” Milo asked, standing from his crouched position. Still looking at the grave as if it were an enigma made specifically for him. [[We need more information about the gate]] [[See if you can open the gate, Milo]] [[Close the gate, Milo]] “I’m not sure,” I whispered, the idea still ringing in my ears. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “I saw Gabriel killing people. Just, innocent. In an alley. And me.” Milo raised a brow. “Warden go a little nuts?” “You sure it was him?” Malcolm asked. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything of what I saw. I don’t know what is even happening.” The image of Gabriel slashing through the people that were trying to hide, was haunting me. It was filling me up with such a fear that I felt my hands shaking. Milo shoved Malcolm off him and went towards the grave, hopping down within its depths. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> “I saw Hazel. She was lost in some sort of fog. I– She was crying and…” I looked at Malcolm. “Her hands and face were turning black. Like, necrotic kind of black. Malcolm, she’s in trouble. I just know she is.” “Her hands were black?” Milo was the one who spoke first. “Like they were stained or something? Kind of like spilled ink?” “Yeah.” Milo glanced at Malcolm. “That’s her magic. You know it is. You need to go and check on her Mal.” There was no question about it. Malcolm looked like he was ready to run to her now. But, he was stopping himself. I watched a flicker of emotions roll across him as he tried to compartmentalize it all. “When we’re done here,” he assured us. “But you haven’t been going,” I told him. “You haven’t remembered.” Malcolm rubbed a hand across his face. The weight of Milo’s stare was on him as he apparently didn’t know about the siblings' distance. When Malcolm didn’t say anything to respond, Milo shoved past him, going towards the grave and hopping down into it. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”I saw Belladonna. She…” My throat felt dry as I still felt the dust on my fingers. “She what?” Malcolm asked. “She died. I think she died right in front of me.” “Belladonna Malady is dead?” Milo asked. “No. No I don’t think it was real. Or it hadn’t happened yet. I… the things she was saying. It was like she was following up on a conversation we already had.” “An omen?” Malcolm asked. I didn’t know. I didn’t even want to know. I just wanted to go to Bella and lay eyes on her. Especially after seeing her last. She had looked sick. Her skin sallow. She had been weak. And now I was worried that this was going to come to pass unless we could figure out how to prevent it. Milo shoved past Malcolm and me and hopped down into the grave beside me.<<elseif $miloro == "true">> “I saw the two of you,” I said. “Milo was trying to keep a gate shut and Mal… Mal was holding me. I don’t know if I was dead or just unconscious.” The two of them exchanged looks, their eyes searching our surroundings, hopeful to see what I did. I shivered at the thought of it. It had felt like my body was being torn apart. “An omen then?” Malcolm asked. “Something that we’re supposed to prevent?” Milo shoved past Malcolm and me and hopped down into the grave beside me.<</if>> I just shook my head, walking a little away. Malcolm stopped me, giving me a look that asked if I was okay. I didn’t know how to even respond to that. He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tightly. I’m sure we would talk later. “Milo,” Malcolm called down to him again. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Get out of there.” Milo was hunched down, his hand on the hatch like door that lined the bottom of where I should lay. “It won’t open for me.” Malcolm crossed his arms, positioning himself right by my side. A wall between me and Milo if need be. “Can you trace it?” “No. Yes? Is that something I can even do?” He looked genuinely confused. Even a bit surprised that Malcolm was suggesting it. I hadn’t given much thought to what Gatekeepers could do other than open gates, really. There may have been several things about my own world I needed to start learning. Malcolm shook his head. “You should be able to trace the magical signature. Bring it back to the source.” “Since when?” “Since I died.” Malcolm was deadpan. Staring at Milo with an even expression that clearly said he was not having any of Milo’s games. I looked at Malcolm. “Can you show him how?” “If he’ll listen.” Malcolm stepped forward, the jab towards Milo clear. His boots kissed the edge of Milo’s own. A silent threat. “Close your eyes.” “So you can stab me? Nah. I’m good.” [[Milo, just do it]] [[Milo, please]] I shook my head, stepping away from the grave. I couldn’t make sense of what I had just seen and there was an even larger part of me that didn’t want to remember it. I didn’t know if it was important. If I needed to take heed of this omen. But I knew that right now, I couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. “Just forget about it,” I said. “You zoned out again. Why would we–” “Forget it, Milo,” I said. His mouth snapped shut. Distrust coloring his cheeks. He shoved past Malcolm and me to hop down into the grave, ignoring both of our protests. I just shook my head, walking a little away. Malcolm stopped me, giving me a look that asked if I was okay. I didn’t know how to even respond to that. He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tightly. I’m sure we would talk later. “Milo,” Malcolm called down to him again. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Get out of there.” Milo was hunched down, his hand on the hatch like door that lined the bottom of where I should lay. “It won’t open for me.” Malcolm crossed his arms, positioning himself right by my side. A wall between me and Milo if need be. “Can you trace it?” “No. Yes? Is that something I can even do?” He looked genuinely confused. Even a bit surprised that Malcolm was suggesting it. I hadn’t given much thought to what Gatekeepers could do other than open gates, really. There may have been several things about my own world I needed to start learning. Malcolm shook his head. “You should be able to trace the magical signature. Bring it back to the source.” “Since when?” “Since I died.” Malcolm was deadpan. Staring at Milo with an even expression that clearly said he was not having any of Milo’s games. I looked at Malcolm. “Can you show him how?” “If he’ll listen.” Malcolm stepped forward, the jab towards Milo clear. His boots kissed the edge of Milo’s own. A silent threat. “Close your eyes.” “So you can stab me? Nah. I’m good.” [[Milo, just do it]] [[Milo, please]] I stared at the two of them, willing what I saw to slip my mind. It trickled away like free flowing water, disappearing from my mind without another thought. “$name,” Milo called out to me again. “What did you see?” I blinked. “Nothing. Or… I don’t actually know. I think I blanked out for a minute.” I could see the suspicion rock across his face and Malcolm’s hand drop from his arm. “You just so happen to blank out here? No. Not buying it.” He pushed past Malcolm and circled around me to get to the grave. Despite me just closing it, he popped it back open, hopping down into the grave itself. “Milo, get the hell out of there,” Malcolm was called. I just shook my head, walking a little away. Malcolm stopped me, giving me a look that asked if I was okay. I didn’t know how to even respond to that. He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it tightly. I’m sure we would talk later. “Milo,” Malcolm called down to him again. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Get out of there.” Milo was hunched down, his hand on the hatch like door that lined the bottom of where I should lay. “It won’t open for me.” Malcolm crossed his arms, positioning himself right by my side. A wall between me and Milo if need be. “Can you trace it?” “No. Yes? Is that something I can even do?” He looked genuinely confused. Even a bit surprised that Malcolm was suggesting it. I hadn’t given much thought to what Gatekeepers could do other than open gates, really. There may have been several things about my own world I needed to start learning. Malcolm shook his head. “You should be able to trace the magical signature. Bring it back to the source.” “Since when?” “Since I died.” Malcolm was deadpan. Staring at Milo with an even expression that clearly said he was not having any of Milo’s games. I looked at Malcolm. “Can you show him how?” “If he’ll listen.” Malcolm stepped forward, the jab towards Milo clear. His boots kissed the edge of Milo’s own. A silent threat. “Close your eyes.” “So you can stab me? Nah. I’m good.” [[Milo, just do it]] [[Milo, please]] “Do you know anything about the lanterns?” They were on here. They looked a bit different than the lanterns inside the market proper but I knew they were one in the same at heart. The difference was, these ones were on. They weren’t even flickering. “Ah,” Dae said, coming to stand on the other side of the counter. “You’re not here for loungewear.” “I–” “If you were here for loungewear, I would very much suggest that it is a good time to talk.” I tipped my head to the side. “I’m here for loungewear?” “Splendid.” He gestured for me to walk towards a small platform. “I shall take your measurements and get you something within the week.” “I’m not from here,” I told him, deciding to be much more upfront. Unlike Griseete’s reaction, Dae’s was far more reserved. There was only a slight twitch in his face. “I would garner to say that none of us are from here but I suspect you are not talking about the Night Market itself.” I didn’t know why, but I felt my eyes fall away. There was such pain in this man's gaze. A haunted look that was lost deep within his eyes. “Well, if you are not from Nebula, I would say you were brought here like the rest of us but I didn’t hear the pomp of the Velvet Guard. So, that’s not quite it either. Though, my answer to that question is that it does not matter. We all have pasts. We all have roads traveled. My job is simply to get your inseam.” “I walked here,” I offered. He hummed, taking out his tape measuring. “As for your earlier question, the lanterns here are independent of the market. Mostly.” “What do you mean by mostly?” “It is from my understanding that they were stolen and then improved upon. We used to have an inventor that lived here. Or so they say. He got the lights up and running for us. When the rest of the market went dark, our little lights stayed shining bright. Lift your arms?” I did as I was told, having the man take my measurements for loungewear I didn’t know if I was even going to be able to collect. [[How do you keep a business in practice?]] [[Is this a tight knit community?]] [[When was the last time the Guard came here?]] “How did all of this come to be?” I asked. Nebula looked like a wonderfully functioning town. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have suspected it to simply be another district. “Ah,” Dae said, coming to stand on the other side of the counter. “You’re not here for loungewear.” “I–” “If you were here for loungewear, I would very much suggest that it is a good time to talk.” I tipped my head to the side. “I’m here for loungewear?” “Splendid.” He gestured for me to walk towards a small platform. “I shall take your measurements and get you something within the week.” “I’m not from here,” I told him, deciding to be much more upfront. Unlike Griseete’s reaction, Dae’s was far more reserved. There was only a slight twitch in his face. “I would garner to say that none of us are from here but I suspect you are not talking about the Night Market itself.” I didn’t know why, but I felt my eyes fall away. There was such pain in this man's gaze. A haunted look that was lost deep within his eyes. “Well, if you are not from Nebula, I would say you were brought here like the rest of us but I didn’t hear the pomp of the Velvet Guard. So, that’s not quite it either. Though, my answer to that question is that it does not matter. We all have pasts. We all have roads traveled. My job is simply to get your inseam.” “I walked here,” I offered. He hummed, taking out his tape measuring. “As for your earlier question, Nebula came to be for a very simple reason. A group of people found a need to survive and thrived within the need.” “How does a loungewear shop factor into the need to survive?” “Because everyone deserves to feel good about themselves. Mental health is no joke. Now, lift your arms.” I did as I was told, having the man take my measurements for loungewear I didn’t know if I was even going to be able to collect. [[How do you keep a business in practice?]] [[Is this a tight knit community?]] [[When was the last time the Guard came here?]] “How many people live in Nebula?” From what I could tell, the town looked like it was one road. The likes of which curved towards the end to disappear over a small hill. It looked like it was predominantly made of houses with shop fronts down below. And from the looks of the walls that rose high around the city, I didn’t think it went to far back into the Outlands. “Ah,” Dae said, coming to stand on the other side of the counter. “You’re not here for loungewear.” “I–” “If you were here for loungewear, I would very much suggest that it is a good time to talk.” I tipped my head to the side. “I’m here for loungewear?” “Splendid.” He gestured for me to walk towards a small platform. “I shall take your measurements and get you something within the week.” “I’m not from here,” I told him, deciding to be much more upfront. Unlike Griseete’s reaction, Dae’s was far more reserved. There was only a slight twitch in his face. “I would garner to say that none of us are from here but I suspect you are not talking about the Night Market itself.” I didn’t know why, but I felt my eyes fall away. There was such pain in this man's gaze. A haunted look that was lost deep within his eyes. “Well, if you are not from Nebula, I would say you were brought here like the rest of us but I didn’t hear the pomp of the Velvet Guard. So, that’s not quite it either. Though, my answer to that question is that it does not matter. We all have pasts. We all have roads traveled. My job is simply to get your inseam.” “I walked here,” I offered. He hummed, taking out his tape measuring. “As for your earlier question, Nebula houses close to three hundred people.” “Three hundred?” It didn’t feel like the town was big enough for that. “Some live underground,” he said. “But I assure you, it’s quite nice down there. Not so drafty. Lift your arms?” I did as I was told, having the man take my measurements for loungewear I didn’t know if I was even going to be able to collect. [[How do you keep a business in practice?]] [[Is this a tight knit community?]] [[When was the last time the Guard came here?]] “How do you keep a business in practice out here?” I asked. The town didn’t look big enough to sustain any sort of business. Not in any significant way. I wasn’t even sure how he was able to get his supplies. “Special orders, mainly. Though, the town's folk are still in need of decadence. People grow. Their bodies change. Their styles change. I am not without customers. But, that all being said, I have my ways with others.” “Out in the market?” I asked. “So even though you are exiled out here you still have connections to the market?” He looked at me with a wry smile. “Perhaps.” “That doesn’t sound like much of an exile.” “Oh, believe me. We are exiled. If any of us were to even step foot back within the market walls, we’d be killed on sight.” “What?” I spoke so loud I nearly knocked the tape measure out of his hands. “Surprised?” “Who wouldn’t be at hearing someone would be killed on sight. Just for walking back to the market?’ “That’s if we could even walk back there.” The tape measurer snapped shut as he looked at me. “I’m thinking of a cool tone for evening and maybe something a bit spicier if you are expecting company,” he told me, still holding up color swatches. I nodded at him, not really caring what it was he was picking out for me. But when I looked into his eyes, I gasped. There was an audible click in my mind. A box of memories unlocking. //Bright eyes stared up in horror as the knife slid in. An endless loop of pain and suffering. All because time had been lost. “Why don’t you love me?” the other man weeped. “Why can’t you just love me again?” There was no response. Just a gurgle. The lung was pierced and there were no words that could be spoken. Not without the dribble of blood that now stained the assailants shirt. He just twisted the knife deeper as he cried. “I just want you back,” he wept. “Please. Love me again.”// I stumbled off the block, staring at Dae. He hadn’t seen what had transpired. But I did. I had looked through his eyes at an old memory. I had done it time and time again and had opened the door to end his suffering. To stop him from dying a thousand deaths. And then he wound up here. Exiled to nowhere to live alone. [[I’m so sorry]] [[Did you wounds ever heal?]] [[Your lover will never get to you again]] “Is this a tight knit community?” I asked. I was trying to get the vibe of the town. To figure out if they were even happy here. The moment I heard they were a part of an encampment, my mind went to the negative. But I was getting fitted for the softest loungewear I had ever seen. It couldn’t have been all bad. “For the most part. Most of the founders have passed by now but the children of them are still here. Still thriving. And some of the new ones who have come in have found love. Have had children of their own. We all look out for each other.” “So the children born here don’t have to go back to the market proper? Suspicion coated his next moves as he measured around my waist. I could feel something in his grip. This man was a fighter. He was dangerous. Not to those undeserving but he was a force to stand in the way of anyone who might threaten his home. “We don’t advertise that there are children here,” he said. “Children shouldn’t be taken from their parents.” “Of course not,” I assured. “And they never will.” I wasn’t sure if he believed me but his shoulders did drop a little, his body starting to relax. “I’m thinking of a cool tone for evening and maybe something a bit spicier if you are expecting company,” he told me, still holding up color swatches. I nodded at him, not really caring what it was he was picking out for me. But when I looked into his eyes, I gasped. There was an audible click in my mind. A box of memories unlocking. //Bright eyes stared up in horror as the knife slid in. An endless loop of pain and suffering. All because time had been lost. “Why don’t you love me?” the other man weeped. “Why can’t you just love me again?” There was no response. Just a gurgle. The lung was pierced and there were no words that could be spoken. Not without the dribble of blood that now stained the assailants shirt. He just twisted the knife deeper as he cried. “I just want you back,” he wept. “Please. Love me again.”// I stumbled off the block, staring at Dae. He hadn’t seen what had transpired. But I did. I had looked through his eyes at an old memory. I had done it time and time again and had opened the door to end his suffering. To stop him from dying a thousand deaths. And then he wound up here. Exiled to nowhere to live alone. [[I’m so sorry]] [[Did you wounds ever heal?]] [[Your lover will never get to you again]] “When was the last time the Guard came to Nebula?” He paused in his ministries. “Why do you ask?” Because I knew the Warden. Because I needed to find out how often they were just tossing people into the Outlands. Because I needed a way to get back home. “There has been some reform within the Night Market,” I told him. “But now I’m starting to wonder just how much.” Dae laughed bitterly. “Don’t you know the cardinal rule? If reform comes at a swift pace, always look at the beast's underbelly. Because there is something they are trying to hide.” I thought of Gabriel. Those initial moments when I first arrived at the Night Market. The way he had stared at me with such a cold calculation. “I don’t remember the last time the guard was here,” he continued. “And I can’t say that I’m looking forward to their next trip. Though, some of them have offered me wonderful orders.” “You get orders? Even out here?” His smile was wry as he marked a few numbers down on his sheet. There was a cabinet nearby that he went to next, taking out color swatches and holding them up to my skin. “Don’t tell the others,” he laughed. Though I suspected they knew. It just wasn't something often talked about. “And to be fair, I’m not sure if the ones who order from me actually know I live out here. The pixie messenger service can be very discreet when they are paid properly.” I thought about the commerce within the districts. There were so many shops and sellers that I didn’t know how any of them survived. Trade was really the only true way the market could survive. Without it, most of the shops would have run out of business. To think that the Outlands were providing us with goods even after being cast aside should have been more surprising but in the end, it slotted into place as an unshakable truth. “I’m thinking of a cool tone for evening and maybe something a bit spicier if you are expecting company,” he told me, still holding up color swatches. I nodded at him, not really caring what it was he was picking out for me. But when I looked into his eyes, I gasped. There was an audible click in my mind. A box of memories unlocking. //Bright eyes stared up in horror as the knife slid in. An endless loop of pain and suffering. All because time had been lost. “Why don’t you love me?” the other man weeped. “Why can’t you just love me again?” There was no response. Just a gurgle. The lung was pierced and there were no words that could be spoken. Not without the dribble of blood that now stained the assailants shirt. He just twisted the knife deeper as he cried. “I just want you back,” he wept. “Please. Love me again.”// I stumbled off the block, staring at Dae. He hadn’t seen what had transpired. But I did. I had looked through his eyes at an old memory. I had done it time and time again and had opened the door to end his suffering. To stop him from dying a thousand deaths. And then he wound up here. Exiled to nowhere to live alone. [[I’m so sorry]] [[Did you wounds ever heal?]] [[Your lover will never get to you again]] “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my throat closing. There had been so much pain. It was a gaping wound that was still present. One that hovered over his head despite the distance he had put between him and the man who had loved him so much that it killed him. Time and time again. Dae stared at me, his expression barely changing. But I could feel the way the air became thicker. “I’ll have that order for you soon,” he told me. “Next week, perhaps.” “Right.” I stepped even further away from him, getting the sense that he wanted nothing to do with me. “What do I owe you for it?” “Nothing,” he told me quickly. Because I had already given him his life. I wanted to protest it but he had already turned away, clearly dismissing me. “There is a star on the painting outside. A red one on the mural that is located right where you came in. Touch it and it will get you back to your home. Or at least closer to it.” He pulled out more silks and a pair of scissors. Laying the fabric out he began measuring and cutting to the specifications on his paper. This was my opportunity to leave. To cast off the sickening madness that had been his life. For years. The man had killed him over and over again for years. Dae never came back right in his eyes. Because he never came back with love for a lover that had choked the life out of him countless times. Turning, I went to leave, vowing to give the man some peace. [[Actually leave]] [[Do you regret loving him?]] [[Do you regret coming to the Night Market?]] “Did your wounds ever heal?” They were not what I meant to say. They were these horrible reminders of what he had been through. Why I had pulled him through. I could see them now. Scars that were on his knuckles. One that dipped down beneath the collar of his shirt. He had died so many times. Brought back to life over and over again. But the wounds never healed. They still riddled his body. Dae stared at me, his expression barely changing. But I could feel the way the air became thicker. “I’ll have that order for you soon,” he told me. “Next week, perhaps.” “Right.” I stepped even further away from him, getting the sense that he wanted nothing to do with me. “What do I owe you for it?” “Nothing,” he told me quickly. Because I had already given him his life. I wanted to protest it but he had already turned away, clearly dismissing me. “There is a star on the painting outside. A red one on the mural that is located right where you came in. Touch it and it will get you back to your home. Or at least closer to it.” He pulled out more silks and a pair of scissors. Laying the fabric out he began measuring and cutting to the specifications on his paper. This was my opportunity to leave. To cast off the sickening madness that had been his life. For years. The man had killed him over and over again for years. Dae never came back right in his eyes. Because he never came back with love for a lover that had choked the life out of him countless times. Turning, I went to leave, vowing to give the man some peace. [[Actually leave]] [[Do you regret loving him?]] [[Do you regret coming to the Night Market?]] “Your lover will never get to you again.” The words were thick and foreign as they fell from my lips. They didn’t even sound like my own. But I remembered speaking to them as I called out for him to take my hand and run through the gate. His leg had dragged behind him as someone screamed on the other side of the wall. Dae stared at me, his expression barely changing. But I could feel the way the air became thicker. “I’ll have that order for you soon,” he told me. “Next week, perhaps.” “Right.” I stepped even further away from him, getting the sense that he wanted nothing to do with me. “What do I owe you for it?” “Nothing,” he told me quickly. Because I had already given him his life. I wanted to protest it but he had already turned away, clearly dismissing me. “There is a star on the painting outside. A red one on the mural that is located right where you came in. Touch it and it will get you back to your home. Or at least closer to it.” He pulled out more silks and a pair of scissors. Laying the fabric out he began measuring and cutting to the specifications on his paper. This was my opportunity to leave. To cast off the sickening madness that had been his life. For years. The man had killed him over and over again for years. Dae never came back right in his eyes. Because he never came back with love for a lover that had choked the life out of him countless times. Turning, I went to leave, vowing to give the man some peace. [[Actually leave]] [[Do you regret loving him?]] [[Do you regret coming to the Night Market?]] I didn’t want to bother the man anymore. I couldn’t. The thought of bringing that pain back to his life again and again was a physical wound. I remembered when I first heard him cry though. Gasping in pain as he was left to bleed out. I felt it like it was my own pain. Pushing open the door, I heard the bell chime above me, as I stepped back out on the one street running through Nebula. I didn’t look back at Dae. I only hoped his life was better now. I hoped I had done something right for him. [[Next|The Gate Out]] I stopped, my hand poised at the door. “Do you regret loving him?” I had to know. The question struck me as wrong the second I posed it to him but love had changed so much of my life. I had come down here for love. And was it worth it? For a long moment, Dae didn’t answer. How could he? It wasn’t as if the question I was asking him was an easy one. I was certain that based on different days, the answer would sometimes change. “I don’t regret loving the man he was when we first met,” he said. The aftermath, however, was hanging in the air. “I’ll get to work on your order right away.” He dismissed me. Even if I continued to press, he wouldn’t have answered. Pushing open the door, I heard the bell chime above me, as I stepped back out on the one street running through Nebula. [[Next|The Gate Out]] I stopped, my hand poised at the door. “Do you regret it?” I asked. “Do you regret coming to the Night Market?” I had always wondered about the ones who had walked through my doors. Did their life get any better? Or had they just been ripped from one world to live in the horror of the next. For a long moment, Dae didn’t answer. How could he? It wasn’t as if the question I was asking him was an easy one. I was certain that based on different days, the answer would sometimes change. Dae sighed, looking down at the fabric stretched out below him. “Are you the Night Market?” he asked. “Yes.” “Then I’m not sure how easy that answer would be to hear.” Whether that was because it would make all my decisions before this more painful. Or it would fuel my fire going forward. I wasn’t sure. “I’ll get to work on your order right away.” He dismissed me. Even if I continued to press, he wouldn’t have answered. Pushing open the door, I heard the bell chime above me, as I stepped back out on the one street running through Nebula. [[Next|The Gate Out]] I didn't want to be alone with my own thoughts. I just wanted some family. Some comfort. And before I knew it, my feet led me to Kimber's bakery. Sawyer and Kimber were both sitting inside, sharing a plate of food and chatting softly with each other. When they heard the bell ring over the door, they both turned to me and smiled. “I’m sorry if I caused some problems today,” I told them, coming over to collapse in the empty chair next to them. Walking into Nebula hadn’t been how I thought my day was going to go. “It’s alright. We crave a little chaos now and again,” Sawyer laughed. “Maybe next time don’t do it in front of Turner though?” I looked up. Turner had looked rough before Herald had led him away. I couldn’t quite pinpoint why, however. “Was he pretty mad after I left?” “Upset,” Kimber said. “For as cruel as Turner can sometimes be, he has a good heart. The second that door closed he sounded the alarm bells around here. Even went to get Herald. They tried to open the door to come and get you but it wouldn’t budge. Turner was really upset. He kept telling Herald that he fucked up again. I’m not sure what that meant but it really freaked him out.” I didn’t know Turner even in the slightest. The most words I had ever heard out of him was ‘fuck’. For him to be upset over my disappearance felt out of place. But there was no mistaking it. The man had looked wrecked when I saw him. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” I told them. “Not too mindful,” Sawyer said. “Turner doesn’t deserve that.” “Oh, stop,” Kimber admonished. “You love him just as much as I do.” Sawyer didn’t say anything to that but I could see it in his eyes. There was an unbreakable bond between the three of them. One that was born from strife. I wondered what their life story actually was. I hoped I was around long enough to find out. “I think I better head back to my place for the day,” I said with a small sigh. It was odd. I was feeling a bit tired. Far more fatigued than I had a few hours earlier. “Does the Night Market sleep?” Sawyer asked. “I think so,” I responded. “Guess I’m just going to find out.” [[Next|All routes 2]] A hand was placed on my back. It was Kimber, looking at the way the guard disappeared. “Do you want to take a minute?” she asked. Gabriel disappeared around the corner. The sound of their rhythmic bootfalls fading away. “I don’t understand,” I told her. “How is this even happening?” “Which part?” Sawyer said from behind us. The funny thing was, I didn’t think I even had an answer to that. Gabriel could see me. I knew he could. But he kept choosing for his eyes to pass over me. To see through me instead of seeing me. And I didn’t know how I was supposed to counter that. “We’ll be inside when you need us,” Kimber said sadly. I could tell she wanted to stay by my side but Sawyer was guiding her away. I heard the bakery open and close, leaving me alone in the alley. I wiped at my eyes, feeling the grit of the day coat my skin like a film. Things had to change. All of it had to change. I thought about Nebula. The other encampments that I knew were out there. I thought of Gabriel and the way he was refusing to acknowledge my existence. The things the guard was doing. The way the world was dying. Milo had locked off our world to the rest because I was tearing myself apart. But now we were left with this. And it felt so much worse than before. Looking up and down the street, the little alleyway I was slowly coming to know, I tried to harden my heart. Whether or not it worked, I had no idea. [[Next|All routes merge 3]] We stepped out into the market streets with only flickering candle light to guide our way. Malcolm was quiet, his face a bit drawn as he stared ahead. The sounds of the Fight Club left us, leaving only the two of us with our thoughts. The broken lanterns above never had seemed so dark. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do when he doesn’t show up,” Malcolm stated. “We need a Gatekeeper. We need someone that is able to communicate with the doors in the market.” “Seems a bit unfair that I’m cut off from making doors into other realms but apparently several people can make doors within my own body,” I muttered. “That was supposed to just be a Gatekeeper job.” “We still don’t know if Milo is behind the one in your grave.” “Maybe,” I said, tipping my head up to eye the lanterns. Why wouldn’t they just come back on. “But even if I was to blame him for it, there’s not a lot of sense to it. That door wasn’t there before. Then I pop out and it is.” “Who do you think would have placed it there?” [[I don’t know]] [[Maybe my higher self]] [[Maybe Taliesin]] <<set $malcolmposession to "true">> Stepping into the graveyard, the wind shifted. There was something different about it. A longing of home that had not been there before. I could feel it like a heavy ache in my gut. A weight that bore down upon me with such venom that I felt sick. Around me, the graves all sat. Yet this time, we were not alone. The ghostly eyes of the deceased all stood at attention, looking at the three of us with an unmoving gaze. Men, women, children, beasts and more. All of them stood upon their resting place with their clocks clutched in their hands. “You two see this, right?” Milo asked. Malcolm stepped closer to me. “I do.” “Me too,” I whispered. [[Is this normal?]] [[Hurry off to my grave]] [[Approach one of the ghosts]] Malcolm didn’t say anything. I had no doubt that most of what was swirling in his head was more to do with his own shoved aside issues. He stopped in the middle of the alleyway, hands in his pockets as he turned to me. “What are we doing?” he asked. “Trying to figure out what the gate is at the bottom of my grave.” I glanced at him, confused. There was a sharp line across his face. Like he was pained to even be here. “Is that what you want? Because $name, we could just have you go back to Victors. He could put you back in the ground.” I stared at him. “He what?” “Think about it. Do you really want to live this life? Be around all of this? Wasn’t it better when you weren’t here?” I took a large step back. [[Are you okay?|Chapter Three Are you okay?]] [[Are you saying I should just die again?]] [[This isn’t like you]]“Maybe my higher self? If I had the ability before to open gates to different realms, opening one beneath my constructed body shouldn’t be a big deal.” “Milo did the ritual, though.” “And the gate isn’t opening. Not from what we know. Maybe I can form gates and doors but I can’t open them. That’s what a Gatekeeper is for now.” Which would ensure the Gatekeepers job security. Not that I thought Milo was really someone looking for such a thing. “You think it might be a gate that got stuck?” Malcolm asked. “One you were trying to get open to save someone and then everything went down.” I kicked at the pebbles that lined the road. “I don’t know. It’s frustrating. All of it. I feel like so many of our questions would be answered if I just had access to my higher consciousness. The fact that I don’t doesn’t make sense to me. The first time around, I get. I chose to forget to live some sort of authentic life. Terribly misguided, sure, but at least it's an explanation. This time around? What’s the point?” Malcolm didn’t say anything. I had no doubt that most of what was swirling in his head was more to do with his own shoved aside issues. He stopped in the middle of the alleyway, hands in his pockets as he turned to me. “What are we doing?” he asked. “Trying to figure out what the gate is at the bottom of my grave.” I glanced at him, confused. There was a sharp line across his face. Like he was pained to even be here. “Is that what you want? Because $name, we could just have you go back to Victors. He could put you back in the ground.” I stared at him. “He what?” “Think about it. Do you really want to live this life? Be around all of this? Wasn’t it better when you weren’t here?” I took a large step back. [[Are you okay?|Chapter Three Are you okay?]] [[Are you saying I should just die again?]] [[This isn’t like you]] “Taliesin?” It felt like a shaky theory given that the man couldn’t figure out a way to crawl out of my subconscious. Or, at least I was assuming he hadn’t. “There’s something he wants. Something I have. And if he can make doors, then he might be able to access whatever that is once he finds the location.” “Yeah, but he needed Milo to make you into a gate. He wasn’t able to crawl inside you until he did.” “Which also doesn’t make sense,” I pointed out. “You were in that liminal space before. I know several others who travel there.” “We were all dead, though. And yes, we can come back but Taliesin might not have wanted a body here for anyone to mess with. Plenty of people hate that man. On the top of that list, from what I hear, are the Book Baron’s. They’ve been after his head for years.” “I always thought they had more of a predilection towards Odin’s demise.” “I think they are old enough they have plenty of enemies,” Malcolm intoned. “I don’t know if I believe the Taliesin theory. But, if we see signs of goblin magic, them I guess we’ll know. Milo unfortunately is someone we will need for that.” “If he shows,” I reminded him. Malcolm didn’t say anything. I had no doubt that most of what was swirling in his head was more to do with his own shoved aside issues. He stopped in the middle of the alleyway, hands in his pockets as he turned to me. “What are we doing?” he asked. “Trying to figure out what the gate is at the bottom of my grave.” I glanced at him, confused. There was a sharp line across his face. Like he was pained to even be here. “Is that what you want? Because $name, we could just have you go back to Victors. He could put you back in the ground.” I stared at him. “He what?” “Think about it. Do you really want to live this life? Be around all of this? Wasn’t it better when you weren’t here?” I took a large step back. [[Are you okay?|Chapter Three Are you okay?]] [[Are you saying I should just die again?]] [[This isn’t like you]]“Are you saying I should just die again?” I asked incredulously. I didn’t know if I was just misunderstanding him or there was something far more sinister going on. It didn’t feel like Malcolm’s words. Not after the way he hugged me upon returning. “All I’m saying is that the world is not doing well with you alive,” he said with a sigh. “Think about it, everything that’s happened has been because you came here. You chose to hop down here and fall in love or find some friends. And I get it. Being a cosmic entity is hard. But wouldn’t you rather connect with people who understand you?” “Why are you saying any of this?” “To show you that you are not helping, $name. That we are not your people. Look,” he said, taking a step forward. I was backed against a wall. “It’s just… this is my world too. My friends. My family. I worry about them. Maybe you not being here is better. Maybe you should really think about letting your body actually rest.” [[You mean die]] [[Don’t you think I’ve tried?]] [[I want to live]] “This isn’t like you.” The person looked like Malcolm. Spoke like Malcolm. But those weren’t his words. The first time he had seen me upon returning, he had been relieved. His eyes still followed me when we were apart in a room. Looking for any amount of danger. Willing to jump in between me and whatever it may be. “I’m not trying to scare you,” he said. “What are you trying to do then?” These were conversations to be had. Ones that existed to burn off frustration and doubt. But Malcolm was looking at me, stone cold. There was barely an emotion flickering behind his soft eyes. “It’s just… this is my world too. My friends. My family. I worry about them. Maybe you not being here is better. Maybe you should really think about letting your body actually rest.” [[You mean die]] [[Don’t you think I’ve tried?]] [[I want to live]] “Malcolm, are you okay?” I approached slowly. These weren’t words I was used to hearing come out of his mouth. They were so void of concern that it was almost startling. “I’m fine. I mean, as fine as I can be,” he said. But his shoulders dropped and he shook his head. “I’ve just been thinking a lot, $name. And what if we are wrong.” “How so?” “Maybe we shouldn’t fight so hard for you to be here. What good is coming of it? The world is still dying. People are suffering. And it’s not like you’re happy. You can barely even touch anything. So maybe it’s time to just consider letting your body rest. Fully.” [[You mean die]] [[Don’t you think I’ve tried?]] [[I want to live]] “You mean die? Is that what you’re telling me to do?” Malcolm looked at me with such a pitying gaze. “Is it really death when you will live on as the world around us?” A cold wind shivered through the alleyway, causing the walls to become frostbitten and dull. “No, this isn’t you speaking. The Malcolm I know wouldn’t say anything like that. You have always fought for this world. And for me.” “Death changes everyone,” he said cryptically. “Not you, you stubborn fucker.” A shimmering door opened and Milo stepped out, wrapping one arm around Malcolm and pulling him back against his chest, while his other hand slammed down on the side of his neck. Malcolm screamed, head snapping back at an awkward angle against Milo’s shoulder. I ran forward, grabbing onto Malcolm to try and pull him away but Milo’s grip was firm. “What are you doing? Let go of him,” I yelled. “In a minute.” Milo muttered through gritted teeth. I could see the way his hands glowed. A bright light fluttered between the cracks of his fingers. Meanwhile, something black and viscous oozed from Malcolm’s ear. When Malcolm went limp in Milo’s arms, Milo stumbled back, leaning heavily against the wall. Malcolm’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “Let go of me,” he croaked. Milo’s sigh of relief was visible. “You gonna be normal?” “Just let the fuck go of me.” He pulled out of Milo’s arms and Milo didn’t stop him. My gaze was caught between the two of them. Watching as they both righted themselves. “What the hell just happened?” Malcolm looked pale. Still trying to keep himself steady and on solid ground. But that soft edge to his eyes was back as he ticked his gaze towards me to assure himself that I was okay. “Possession,” he said after a moment. “At least I think.” “Oh yeah,” Milo said. “You for sure had something in you.” “Possession? You two say that as if it’s so casual.” “It is when you’re recently back from the dead,” Milo said. He pushed away from the wall with a groan, shaking out his hand. “I was following you two when I saw a shadow step in him. Malcolm, you fucking idiot, you don’t even have a charm on you.” “Didn’t think I needed it.” “Of course you didn’t. Because stress doesn’t touch Malcolm fucking Albright, right?” [[Milo, stop talking and Malcolm explain]] [[Milo, what did you do to him?]] [[Malcolm, you need to take better care of yourself]] “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” I asked him. It wasn’t as if I was ignoring myself. Casting aside any duties that my higher self might have. In fact, I was positive that if I could just find the connection back, most of our problems would have been solved. “Have you?” he asked. “Or have you wanted to be down here. Called to the delusion of love.” A cold wind shivered through the alleyway, causing the walls to become frostbitten and dull. “No, this isn’t you speaking. The Malcolm I know wouldn’t say anything like that. You have always fought for this world. And for me.” “Death changes everyone,” he said cryptically. “Not you, you stubborn fucker.” A shimmering door opened and Milo stepped out, wrapping one arm around Malcolm and pulling him back against his chest, while his other hand slammed down on the side of his neck. Malcolm screamed, head snapping back at an awkward angle against Milo’s shoulder. I ran forward, grabbing onto Malcolm to try and pull him away but Milo’s grip was firm. “What are you doing? Let go of him,” I yelled. “In a minute.” Milo muttered through gritted teeth. I could see the way his hands glowed. A bright light fluttered between the cracks of his fingers. Meanwhile, something black and viscous oozed from Malcolm’s ear. When Malcolm went limp in Milo’s arms, Milo stumbled back, leaning heavily against the wall. Malcolm’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “Let go of me,” he croaked. Milo’s sigh of relief was visible. “You gonna be normal?” “Just let the fuck go of me.” He pulled out of Milo’s arms and Milo didn’t stop him. My gaze was caught between the two of them. Watching as they both righted themselves. “What the hell just happened?” Malcolm looked pale. Still trying to keep himself steady and on solid ground. But that soft edge to his eyes was back as he ticked his gaze towards me to assure himself that I was okay. “Possession,” he said after a moment. “At least I think.” “Oh yeah,” Milo said. “You for sure had something in you.” “Possession? You two say that as if it’s so casual.” “It is when you’re recently back from the dead,” Milo said. He pushed away from the wall with a groan, shaking out his hand. “I was following you two when I saw a shadow step in him. Malcolm, you fucking idiot, you don’t even have a charm on you.” “Didn’t think I needed it.” “Of course you didn’t. Because stress doesn’t touch Malcolm fucking Albright, right?” [[Milo, stop talking and Malcolm explain]] [[Milo, what did you do to him?]] [[Malcolm, you need to take better care of yourself]] “I want to live,” I told him, feeling a tremor rock through my voice. “The entire reason I came down here in the first place was because I wanted to live.” “Why?” he laughed. It wasn’t Malcolm’s normal laugh. “Look at this world. What use is it? Why would you want to live in a place like this? If I was you I would just start over. Give up on all of us and start again.” “And let everyone die?” “Most of them should have already been dead,” he said with a shrug. “They’ve already gotten the time they deserved. More, really. At this point they should be thanking you and moving on.” A cold wind shivered through the alleyway, causing the walls to become frostbitten and dull. “No, this isn’t you speaking. The Malcolm I know wouldn’t say anything like that. You have always fought for this world. And for me.” “Death changes everyone,” he said cryptically. “Not you, you stubborn fucker.” A shimmering door opened and Milo stepped out, wrapping one arm around Malcolm and pulling him back against his chest, while his other hand slammed down on the side of his neck. Malcolm screamed, head snapping back at an awkward angle against Milo’s shoulder. I ran forward, grabbing onto Malcolm to try and pull him away but Milo’s grip was firm. “What are you doing? Let go of him,” I yelled. “In a minute.” Milo muttered through gritted teeth. I could see the way his hands glowed. A bright light fluttered between the cracks of his fingers. Meanwhile, something black and viscous oozed from Malcolm’s ear. When Malcolm went limp in Milo’s arms, Milo stumbled back, leaning heavily against the wall. Malcolm’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “Let go of me,” he croaked. Milo’s sigh of relief was visible. “You gonna be normal?” “Just let the fuck go of me.” He pulled out of Milo’s arms and Milo didn’t stop him. My gaze was caught between the two of them. Watching as they both righted themselves. “What the hell just happened?” Malcolm looked pale. Still trying to keep himself steady and on solid ground. But that soft edge to his eyes was back as he ticked his gaze towards me to assure himself that I was okay. “Possession,” he said after a moment. “At least I think.” “Oh yeah,” Milo said. “You for sure had something in you.” “Possession? You two say that as if it’s so casual.” “It is when you’re recently back from the dead,” Milo said. He pushed away from the wall with a groan, shaking out his hand. “I was following you two when I saw a shadow step in him. Malcolm, you fucking idiot, you don’t even have a charm on you.” “Didn’t think I needed it.” “Of course you didn’t. Because stress doesn’t touch Malcolm fucking Albright, right?” [[Milo, stop talking and Malcolm explain]] [[Milo, what did you do to him?]] [[Malcolm, you need to take better care of yourself]] “Milo,” I snapped. “Stop talking. Malcolm. Explain.” Malcolm sighed. The corners of his eyes were pinched and he looked like he was fighting down a wave of nausea. “I messed up,” he said evenly. “I should have been carrying around a charm to keep any spirits from hopping in my body. It can happen when you are recent from death.” “Do I need to worry?” I asked. “You’re not fully back, so I’d say no. But we’ll get you a charm, just in case. I’ll pick it up when I go and buy one for myself.” “Don’t bother.” A three point silver charm bounced off Malcolm’s chest. It matched the brand now on Malcolm’s neck. The one Milo had put there. “That’s for you. You’re welcome. Oh, and fuck you.” Malcolm bent down, retrieving the bit of metal. He locked eyes with me, looking more and more tired by the moment. “You alright?” “A little shaken,” I told him, “but I didn’t get hurt.” We could both nearly feel the roll of Milo’s eyes. “Do you two know what it is that possessed him?” I asked. There was something familiar about it all. But when I tried to think on it, I could grasp it. It wasn’t in the sound of the voice. The tone. The words. There was nothing I should have latched onto as familiar. But I did. “Looked like a run of the mill spirit,” Milo said, looking towards Mal for clarification. “It felt strong. But like the strength was locked off somewhere else.” He ran a hand over the side of his neck, clearly still reeling from the experience. “I don’t like what it was indicating,” he said darkly. My death. A forever rest. Back to square one it was then. “Well, looks like I’ll be walking with you two instead of skulking in the shadows,” Milo said. He took a step forward but frowned. There was a wall blocking his way. “Also looks like we’ll be taking another path to the graveyard since you blocked this one.” “I didn’t mean to,” I muttered. “Why were you following us to begin with,” Malcolm started. “You could have just walked with us.” Milo shrugged, digging a bent cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. “I needed a moment to gather my wits,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m assuming showing up at the Fight Club was more your idea than $name ‘s. Thanks for catching me off guard.” “We wouldn’t have to catch you off guard if you would just make yourself available,” I told him. “Funny thing about that. When people want you dead, availability is kind of the last thing on your mind.” We took three more turns before arriving at the graveyard. There was a strange tinge of magic to the air. The burnt edges of it blanketing the mausoleum in potent curls of fog. We took three more turns before arriving at the graveyard. There was a strange tinge of magic to the air. The burnt edges of it blanketing the mausoleum in potent curls of fog. “Well, something went down here,” Malcolm murmured. “Perfect time to walk headlong into the fire then,” Milo said with a glib clip to his words. “Or would you two like to wait around and see what else is going to attack you while having heart to hearts.” He stormed off into the fog then, the light from his cigarette glowing in the dark night. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] “What did you do to him?” Given that the last time Milo laid hands on me, it had been to rip open a gate in my own chest, I was half expecting Malcolm’s neck to split open. “It’s a charm,” Milo explained quickly, clearly knowing what this looked like. “The recently risen, like Mal here, are far more susceptible to people piggybacking into the physical world. Something about the line between the spirit realm and us. Most people that are recently risen have to carry around a charm for a few weeks. Until they can get their feet steady again.” “Mal’s been back for months.” “Mal has also taken on more than he can handle, like usual.” “Wouldn’t have to if you were doing your job.” Milo ignored him and instead held up the talisman. It was a three point swirled silver bit of metal, no bigger than a coin. I could see the exact outline on Malcolm’s neck. “I banished the spirit with it.” He tossed it to Malcolm. “Keep it on you from now on. You’re welcome.” He threw the charm at Malcolm, watching as it bounced of his chest and to the ground. Malcolm slowly bent over and took it, expecting it to shatter in his hands. “Do you two know what it is that possessed him?” I asked. There was something familiar about it all. But when I tried to think on it, I could grasp it. It wasn’t in the sound of the voice. The tone. The words. There was nothing I should have latched onto as familiar. But I did. “Looked like a run of the mill spirit,” Milo said, looking towards Mal for clarification. “It felt strong. But like the strength was locked off somewhere else.” He ran a hand over the side of his neck, clearly still reeling from the experience. “I don’t like what it was indicating,” he said darkly. My death. A forever rest. Back to square one it was then. “Well, looks like I’ll be walking with you two instead of skulking in the shadows,” Milo said. He took a step forward but frowned. There was a wall blocking his way. “Also looks like we’ll be taking another path to the graveyard since you blocked this one.” “I didn’t mean to,” I muttered. “Why were you following us to begin with,” Malcolm started. “You could have just walked with us.” Milo shrugged, digging a bent cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. “I needed a moment to gather my wits,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m assuming showing up at the Fight Club was more your idea than $name ‘s. Thanks for catching me off guard.” “We wouldn’t have to catch you off guard if you would just make yourself available,” I told him. “Funny thing about that. When people want you dead, availability is kind of the last thing on your mind.” We took three more turns before arriving at the graveyard. There was a strange tinge of magic to the air. The burnt edges of it blanketing the mausoleum in potent curls of fog. We took three more turns before arriving at the graveyard. There was a strange tinge of magic to the air. The burnt edges of it blanketing the mausoleum in potent curls of fog. “Well, something went down here,” Malcolm murmured. “Perfect time to walk headlong into the fire then,” Milo said with a glib clip to his words. “Or would you two like to wait around and see what else is going to attack you while having heart to hearts.” He stormed off into the fog then, the light from his cigarette glowing in the dark night. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] “Malcolm, you need to take better care of yourself. If what Milo is saying is true, you are going to need to do something. We can’t afford for someone to be trying to use you against me.” “I know,” he said, irritated with himself. “I’ll go buy a talisman after the graveyard. My old one must have worn off.” “Don’t bother.” Milo tossed him what he had held in his hand. It was a three point swirled shape no bigger than a coin. When looking close enough, I could see the outline of it pressed to Malcolm’s neck where Milo had branded him. Malcolm caught the thing one handed, looking at it for a moment before tucking it away. He gave Milo a nod of thanks but said nothing more. “Do you two know what it is that possessed him?” I asked. There was something familiar about it all. But when I tried to think on it, I could grasp it. It wasn’t in the sound of the voice. The tone. The words. There was nothing I should have latched onto as familiar. But I did. “Looked like a run of the mill spirit,” Milo said, looking towards Mal for clarification. “It felt strong. But like the strength was locked off somewhere else.” He ran a hand over the side of his neck, clearly still reeling from the experience. “I don’t like what it was indicating,” he said darkly. My death. A forever rest. Back to square one it was then. “Well, looks like I’ll be walking with you two instead of skulking in the shadows,” Milo said. He took a step forward but frowned. There was a wall blocking his way. “Also looks like we’ll be taking another path to the graveyard since you blocked this one.” “I didn’t mean to,” I muttered. “Why were you following us to begin with,” Malcolm started. “You could have just walked with us.” Milo shrugged, digging a bent cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. “I needed a moment to gather my wits,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m assuming showing up at the Fight Club was more your idea than $name ‘s. Thanks for catching me off guard.” “We wouldn’t have to catch you off guard if you would just make yourself available,” I told him. “Funny thing about that. When people want you dead, availability is kind of the last thing on your mind.” We took three more turns before arriving at the graveyard. There was a strange tinge of magic to the air. The burnt edges of it blanketing the mausoleum in potent curls of fog. “Well, something went down here,” Malcolm murmured. “Perfect time to walk headlong into the fire then,” Milo said with a glib clip to his words. “Or would you two like to wait around and see what else is going to attack you while having heart to hearts.” He stormed off into the fog then, the light from his cigarette glowing in the dark night. [[Just let him go]] [[Follow him at a distance]] [[Milo? Where are you going?]] It was still uncertain around him. It wasn’t fear, per say. It had been briefly while I was still disoriented. But I was having to decide at what length Milo was allowed to be at. My part in what happened that night was not one I was excusing, but it didn’t mean that neither of us weren’t inexplicably changed by the events. And while I had followed Milo down here, I needed time. I needed to sort through my thoughts. “Not tonight,” I told him. “I’m not mad right now. I just think I needed to come down here and see you. Hear you.” He looked confused. But even more so, lost. “Why?” “Because I’m still trying to piece it all together. How I feel about it all. What it means to be me. What it means to have separated myself from my body.” I felt exhausted suddenly at all the questions raging through my head. <<if $miloro == "true">> “What it meant to have loved you like I did.” He looked away. “I tried to tell you not to love me.” “I know. But I was never going to listen.”<</if>> We both stood there awkwardly, the people in the hall passing by several times, trying to listen in on our conversation. “I better go,” I told him. He nodded. “Make it back safe.” It felt odd coming from him, but I didn’t mention it. Instead, I turned and walked away. I could hear the soft click of his door before I was halfway down the hall. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>>“I think distance would be good for us right now. The less we see of each other. The better.” We were going to need to work together. I understood this. But it didn’t mean we had to go out of our way for social calls and niceties. “You followed me down here,” Milo pointed out. “And I realize now that maybe I shouldn’t have.” He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots. “Alright, $name. Fine. I guess I deserve the mind games, yeah?” “This isn’t a mind game, Milo. I’m allowed to be confused. I’m allowed to change my mind.” “Alright,” he said. “Well, just send me a messenger when you figure out what it is you’re thinking because I’m sure as hell confused by it.” I felt the flash of irritation. “I’m not doing this.” “And again, you were the one who followed me.” I turned on my heel then, storming out of the room. Why I had even tried with him, I didn’t know. I needed to get back to Artisan Alley. Not spending my time talking to a man who allowed Taliesin Hynsin to run rampant inside my mind. There were things to be done and problems to be addressed. I didn’t need to be in some sanctuary, talking to Milo. When I was halfway down the hall, I heard the door slam shut. I wondered how long he stood there, watching me walk away. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>>“It’s just a basement, Turner,” I laughed. “One you probably are storing all your derelict clocks in.” “They are not derelict. Take that back.” I could feel him getting heated behind me and was completely prepared for the plethora of curse words thrown my way. “You are having me on,” I told him. “There is no way that this just appeared. I–” The second my hand touched the latch, however, I felt a jolt run through me. The power beyond was immense. It sang to me, bursting forward and wrapping around me as if it had been lost for so long. A breath was taken, an echoing inhale, and as I pushed myself further, a part of me that had long been asleep felt as if it were beginning to rouse. An old road stretched before me, encased in stars. They reflected back in my pitch black eyes, pulling from me stretches of silver and bronze. One by one small lanterns began to light the path, illuminating the road I stepped upon and leading out towards a walled horizon beyond. Unlike the lanterns of home, these ones were dimmer. Thin and strung together with braided twine. [[Begin to panic]] [[This was fine. I just needed to stay calm]] [[This was exciting]]“If what you are saying is true, then I need to take a look at what is on the other side.” “That’s a really dumb way of thinking,” Turner deadpanned. “It’s not. I’m responsible for this world, Turner. I’m responsible for the things I create. Do you want a gateway to something terrible beneath your shop?” His eyes went wide at the sudden thought of it all. “If you create a sinkhole that takes my clocks from me I will hunt you down and bury you in metal.” “Okay, intense. But you get what I mean, right? I have to look.” I didn’t think Turner agreed with me. But he certainly didn’t stop me as I reached out, resting my hand upon the door. The second my hand touched the latch, however, I felt a jolt run through me. The power beyond was immense. It sang to me, bursting forward and wrapping around me as if it had been lost for so long. A breath was taken, an echoing inhale, and as I pushed myself further, a part of me that had long been asleep felt as if it were beginning to rouse. An old road stretched before me, encased in stars. They reflected back in my pitch black eyes, pulling from me stretches of silver and bronze. One by one small lanterns began to light the path, illuminating the road I stepped upon and leading out towards a walled horizon beyond. Unlike the lanterns of home, these ones were dimmer. Thin and strung together with braided twine. [[Begin to panic]] [[This was fine. I just needed to stay calm]] [[This was exciting]] I stared at the door. This unassuming door that Turner swore had not been here before. The very one that I so desperately wanted to push open and see what was contained inside. It could just be a brick wall for all I knew. Or… “Okay,” I said, turning to Turner with my hands held up in surrender. “I understand you. But, hear me out, what if it’s something cool.” Turner looked me dead in the eye before slowly raising his hand, middle finger pointed upwards. I laughed, turning back to the building and pushing open the door. The second my hand touched the latch, however, I felt a jolt run through me. The power beyond was immense. It sang to me, bursting forward and wrapping around me as if it had been lost for so long. A breath was taken, an echoing inhale, and as I pushed myself further, a part of me that had long been asleep felt as if it were beginning to rouse. An old road stretched before me, encased in stars. They reflected back in my pitch black eyes, pulling from me stretches of silver and bronze. One by one small lanterns began to light the path, illuminating the road I stepped upon and leading out towards a walled horizon beyond. Unlike the lanterns of home, these ones were dimmer. Thin and strung together with braided twine. [[Begin to panic]] [[This was fine. I just needed to stay calm]] [[This was exciting]]“No. No no no no,” I felt panic bubble up in my chest as I whipped my head around, desperate to find the door. I listened intently for Turner’s voice. Anything familiar that would bring me back home. But there was nothing here but distant movement rustling in the underbrush I couldn’t see, and millions of stars. I had been transported. With the simple motion of just opening the door, I had been sucked into a light field against my will. My chest constricted and my head felt light as I forced myself to stumble forward. Worried that if I stayed still for too long, I would never leave. Time altered as it was prone to do. I could feel it start and stop around me several times, pushing at me from all sides. I didn’t know how far I even walked when light finally appeared. A small town was ahead, high walls protecting it from the endless night. I quickened my steps to reach it. Moon shaped lanterns and five point stars rotated above the village ahead. A large arch of galactic star dust welcomed me and as I stepped foot into the little town, several people blinked, staring at me with odd expressions. There was life here though. Music. People milling the streets and stopping off at vendors for goods. There were entire brick and mortar shops that stood proudly with nebulous little signs turning just outside their window. “Mama, did the wall just open?” I turned, spying a young girl clinging to her mothers hand. They were staring at a point right behind me. “Welcome,” the woman said. “We aren’t used to newcomers, I’m afraid.” I glanced behind me. There was no wall. Just a large archway that led out towards the road. “Were you escorted?” “No, I wandered here on my own.” The mother wrapped her arms around her daughter, giving me a tight smile. “Oh,” she said, her voice suddenly much more guarded. “Well then. Have a nice day.” She tugged her daughter after her, hurrying her along to disappear behind another shop. The girl looked back at me, her eyes wide and filled with fear. It left me at the beginning of a beautiful little village, with cold stares directed my way. The street began to empty as one by one, individuals began to disappear inside. They closed their doors and shuttered their windows. The music stopped but I could still hear the distinct clinking of stars as they swayed in the wind. There were only a few shops now that looked open. Either they hadn’t gotten the message about the newcomer or they had nothing to hide. My only other option would have been to turn around and go back to Turner but even as I thought about it, my own mind rebelled. Brick by brick, the arch closed in and the lights that had led me here clicked off. The only ways ahead were three little shops, their lights still spilling onto the streets, unafraid of whatever my presence represented. [[Go to Truffles and Trifles]] [[Go to Dae and Night]] [[Go to The Horned Nook]] “You’re okay,” I muttered to myself, focusing on my breathing. It wasn’t like this was the first time I had been in a situation like this. I was the one who had been tossed down into the Deep to seek out a random mirror. One that had meant nothing in the end. I had been down there with only a bit of coral to light my way and I had survived that. Whatever was in front of me was at least dry land. If I stayed calm, I would get through this. I would always get through this. Time altered as it was prone to do. I could feel it start and stop around me several times, pushing at me from all sides. I didn’t know how far I even walked when light finally appeared. A small town was ahead, high walls protecting it from the endless night. I quickened my steps to reach it. Moon shaped lanterns and five point stars rotated above the village ahead. A large arch of galactic star dust welcomed me and as I stepped foot into the little town, several people blinked, staring at me with odd expressions. There was life here though. Music. People milling the streets and stopping off at vendors for goods. There were entire brick and mortar shops that stood proudly with nebulous little signs turning just outside their window. “Mama, did the wall just open?” I turned, spying a young girl clinging to her mothers hand. They were staring at a point right behind me. “Welcome,” the woman said. “We aren’t used to newcomers, I’m afraid.” I glanced behind me. There was no wall. Just a large archway that led out towards the road. “Were you escorted?” “No, I wandered here on my own.” The mother wrapped her arms around her daughter, giving me a tight smile. “Oh,” she said, her voice suddenly much more guarded. “Well then. Have a nice day.” She tugged her daughter after her, hurrying her along to disappear behind another shop. The girl looked back at me, her eyes wide and filled with fear. It left me at the beginning of a beautiful little village, with cold stares directed my way. The street began to empty as one by one, individuals began to disappear inside. They closed their doors and shuttered their windows. The music stopped but I could still hear the distinct clinking of stars as they swayed in the wind. There were only a few shops now that looked open. Either they hadn’t gotten the message about the newcomer or they had nothing to hide. My only other option would have been to turn around and go back to Turner but even as I thought about it, my own mind rebelled. Brick by brick, the arch closed in and the lights that had led me here clicked off. The only ways ahead were three little shops, their lights still spilling onto the streets, unafraid of whatever my presence represented. [[Go to Truffles and Trifles]] [[Go to Dae and Night]] [[Go to The Horned Nook]] A fluttering sensation took root deep in my stomach. This was something new. Or something forgotten. I wasn’t quite sure. But a field of stars was all around me with endless possibilities. This was what it meant to be alive. To actually be able to walk the world I had so preciously tried to care for. It left me abuzz and eager to learn more. Time altered as it was prone to do. I could feel it start and stop around me several times, pushing at me from all sides. I didn’t know how far I even walked when light finally appeared. A small town was ahead, high walls protecting it from the endless night. I quickened my steps to reach it. Moon shaped lanterns and five point stars rotated above the village ahead. A large arch of galactic star dust welcomed me and as I stepped foot into the little town, several people blinked, staring at me with odd expressions. There was life here though. Music. People milling the streets and stopping off at vendors for goods. There were entire brick and mortar shops that stood proudly with nebulous little signs turning just outside their window. “Mama, did the wall just open?” I turned, spying a young girl clinging to her mothers hand. They were staring at a point right behind me. “Welcome,” the woman said. “We aren’t used to newcomers, I’m afraid.” I glanced behind me. There was no wall. Just a large archway that led out towards the road. “Were you escorted?” “No, I wandered here on my own.” The mother wrapped her arms around her daughter, giving me a tight smile. “Oh,” she said, her voice suddenly much more guarded. “Well then. Have a nice day.” She tugged her daughter after her, hurrying her along to disappear behind another shop. The girl looked back at me, her eyes wide and filled with fear. It left me at the beginning of a beautiful little village, with cold stares directed my way. The street began to empty as one by one, individuals began to disappear inside. They closed their doors and shuttered their windows. The music stopped but I could still hear the distinct clinking of stars as they swayed in the wind. There were only a few shops now that looked open. Either they hadn’t gotten the message about the newcomer or they had nothing to hide. My only other option would have been to turn around and go back to Turner but even as I thought about it, my own mind rebelled. Brick by brick, the arch closed in and the lights that had led me here clicked off. The only ways ahead were three little shops, their lights still spilling onto the streets, unafraid of whatever my presence represented. One was a a small toadstool shaped store with flickering wisps playing upon its roof. It was cutely named Truffles and Trifles. The other, a sleek looking loungewear shop that had beautiful silks in the window. The words Dae and Night were embedded across the front. And last, was a miniture looking bookstore. Yet, it was nothing more than a box with a window and barely reached my chest. [[Go to Truffles and Trifles]] [[Go to Dae and Night]] [[Go to The Horned Nook]]“Look,” he awkwardly pushed away from the wall, body tensed. “You need to get back to the alley. Your little trip to Nebula has attracted the guard and you’re really the only one to deal with it.” And just like before. I was given a piece of information that sat uselessly in my hands, told it was a problem, and then pushed forward with no real direction. "Try not to make any more passage ways," he said, kicking the toe of his shoe against the ground. He didn’t wait for me to respond. Not that I thought I could. Instead, he turned, walking down the alley, disappearing into the night. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $platonic == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Return to the alley]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Chapter Three Belladonna]]<</if>> The shop across the street was lit up with soft blue and deep purples, the scent of lavender lingering heavily around it. The window displays boasted beautiful beds with lush comforters and downy pillows. Stone busts were placed next to the scene, dressed in decadent nightwear. The shop sign read Dae and Night and hung artfully above the door. Looking for answers, I pushed inside. The interior was not what I expected. Beautiful silk robes hung from a bronze bar that ran along one wall. Beneath them were little boxes filled with lacy undergarments, garters, and beautiful ribbons. Comfortable looking lounge pants and open front shirts that matched were folded upon several different tables along with baskets of sweet smelling lavender and jasmine. Everything had a soft and sleepy vibe within the store. The furniture was all oversized as if to invite the customer inside to take a nap. “Welcome to Dae and Night,” a smooth voice called. Behind a glass counter an elven man stood. His hair was shorn and his skin a rich tan color. When he moved, I could see a sheen of bronze flicker across him. At first I thought it some sort of glitter. When I stepped closer, I could see the bits of metallic pigments embedded into his skin. “I am Dae, the proprietor of this shop,” he said with an easy smile. “How can I help you today? Perhaps a new set of loungewear?” “Sorry,” I told him, actually feeling bad for not being able to buy anything. “I’m actually looking for information.” “Information? Why, whatever would you need information for in a town like this?” I looked behind me, back at the well lit streets. “Well, first, I don’t actually know where I am? That would be a place to start.” His face hardened a little, though the smile was still in place. “You are in Nebula. Are you new?” “I am,” I told him. “Though, I am pretty sure I’m lost.” “Lost how? Did the guards not escort you here?” I shook my head. “Are you running from trouble?” Again, I shook my head. If possible, his face became more tight. “So you just walked in here on your own accord.” “I get the feeling that is a bad thing.” The man, Dae, I presumed, nodded. He stepped out from behind the counter, his movements careful. “This is an encampment owned by the Velvet Guard. We haven’t had a prisoner here for some time.” [[A what?]] [[This is a really nice prison]] [[Of course the Velvet Guard is behind this]] <<set $nebula to "Dae">> Mushrooms sprouted from a dirt shaped house, the loamy scent of wet moss and fibrous roots filling the air. The small toadstools stood at an angle, stretching towards the stars and coated with a layer of moondust. I could just barely make out movement within each toadstool. The stalks of which all contained a door providing makeshift shelters for little beings of light. The likes of which danced from the rooftops of various shops, some falling into the alleys with delighted little shrieks. It seemed like as good a place as any to start. With no way home, I didn’t know what other choice I had. Hopefully Turner didn’t go into his shop and forget about me. Then again, knowing the man, I had a strange feeling that it was exactly what he was going to do. Pushing open the door, I stepped into the warm shop. The floor was made of dirt. While boxes lined each wall, creating tiered garden beds. Within them were luminous mushrooms of different shades, all ripe for the plucking. Morels stood like wayward little houses among a series of button mushrooms, their white caps literally dripping ceramic thimbles that a small mouse darted back and forth to gather. I looked around the shop. The ceiling was made of moss and grass with small purple flowers sprouting in the corners. I could see a wall of baskets with more mushrooms gathered within while there was a small pastry counter with fungal themed confections. “Hello?” I called out. There was a brief shuffle from the back as someone rounded the corner. “Hello! Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” She was not a tall woman. Her skin an off colored bluish gray while she had a pair of warm brown eyes and a welcoming smile. A mess of vibrant moss colored locks fell across her forehead while tiny little mushrooms sprouted from behind her ears. “Welcome to Truffles and Trifles. What can I help you with?” I looked around the room, knowing that there was obviously only one reason to come here. Wherever here was. “I actually am a bit lost,” I told her. “Where am I?” She looked at me a bit curiously. “What do you mean?” I gestured all around me, as if that would somehow make it all make sense. “Oh! Yes. You are correct. I did just change the exterior.” She swished back and forth a bit, the scalloped edges of her skirt brushing the dirt floor. “It was time to harvest the moon shrooms. I am afraid I’m all out of them. You’ll have to come back next season.” [[Moon shrooms?]] [[I actually don’t like mushrooms]] [[No, I mean, where am I really]] <<set $nebula to "Grisette">> I walked across the street coming to the small wooden box with the lattice work door. A small sign reading //The Horned Nook// was pushed inot the ground next to the box that I could now see was filled with books. The book exchange stood on the corner and while the other shops were butted up against a thick stone wall to keep the beasts out the beasts of the Outlands, this little display box was just sitting there. Unassuming. “Pst.” Startled, I looked down, a tiny worm looked up at me with wide eyes. “Just open the door.” I glanced back at the exchange, looking between it and the creature. Not seeing the harm it could do, I opened the door. Nothing happened. “Take a book.” “Right.” Reaching out, I grabbed the spine of the first book that I saw. A sharp click rang through the air as the box began to expand, dark wood floors unfolding while walls began to climb upwards, shelves laden with books appearing, most of which looked as if they were going to buckle under the weight. As the ceiling snapped into place, large ladders on running tracks clicked together. Thick wooden beams were placed throughout the shop itself, surrounded by oversized chairs and cozy little reading nooks. Expansive rugs were rolled out to keep away the worst of the chill and the lighting was soft and welcoming. It fell from a skylight above where the moon shone bright in the distant night sky and the star lanterns continued to swirl. I looked back towards the creature who had helped me get here to say my thanks but instead I was greeted with a blue skinned woman with curling horns and black hair coiling around her chin. “Hi,” she said. “Hi. Is this yours?” “I was away for the afternoon. I suppose my ‘back in five minutes’ sign fell off.” I looked around. I hadn’t seen a sign at all. But the woman breezed past me, her freckled tail swishing in her wake. “Welcome to our little town of Nebula. You're new. Can I help you with something or should I expect the Velvet Guard to pay us a visit soon?” I couldn’t entirely say that the Velvet Guard wouldn’t be on my trail. Then again, Turner seemed to hate them so it wasn’t as if they were the first ones that would come to my rescue. If anyone was going to come to my rescue that is. [[Not a fan of the Velvet Guard I take it?]] [[Only one person knows I’m here and he’s not going to come get me]] [[I’m actually looking for a way out]] <<set $nebula to "Cyrilla">>“Why?” I asked. I remembered the people that had taken themselves inside after finding out I was a newcomer. Grisette was welcoming, but the others were frightened. Grisette shook her head. “Please don’t take it personally. We pride ourselves on our community here. We have worked hard to be safe. To build this little town. And newcomers threaten that. The guard has all but forgotten about us and if people start finding us and liking our little town, we aren’t going to stay secret for long.” “Is that such a bad thing?” I asked. “Yes,” she said sadly. “We are still criminals in the eyes of the law. Most of us were bound for the fleshpits and made deals to get here. A few even ran away. If the guard comes here, it will be a massacre.” “No,” I protested. “Surely they wouldn’t…” but I trailed off. Wouldn’t what? Throw an individual into the pits for a lack of papers? I didn’t even know if the auction block was dissolved any longer. Straightening, I nodded to her, understanding the fear in her eyes. “How do I leave?” Grisette stood, walking over to the window. “The star mural across the street. The highest star that is painted red? You need to touch it. It’ll take you somewhere safe.” “Back to the market?” Grisette nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.” “No. Of course not. And,” she smiled. “It was kind of nice seeing an outsider after so long. I really wish I could see you again.” Maybe she would. The thing was, this was the Night Market. And I was beginning to learn that despite this being my home, I knew very little about it. “Goodbye, Grisette,” I told her, in case our paths never crossed again. “Goodbye.” The mushrooms waved with her as I left the shop. [[Next|The Gate Out]] “That is perfectly fine. I wasn’t intending to come here in the first place. I may have jumped forward when I should have proceeded with caution.” It struck a chord with the little shopkeep. She laughed at that. “I know what you mean. And thank you for understanding. I really do not mean it in a rude way at all.” “I don’t take it that way.” Standing, I looked around, taking in a deep breath. “Alright then. How do I get out?” Grisette stood, walking over to the window. “The star mural across the street. The highest star that is painted red? You need to touch it. It’ll take you somewhere safe.” “Back to the market?” Grisette nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.” “No. Of course not. And,” she smiled. “It was kind of nice seeing an outsider after so long. I really wish I could see you again.” Maybe she would. The thing was, this was the Night Market. And I was beginning to learn that despite this being my home, I knew very little about it. “Goodbye, Grisette,” I told her, in case our paths never crossed again. “Goodbye.” The mushrooms waved with her as I left the shop. [[Next|The Gate Out]] “Oh,” I said, a bit disappointed. “I was hoping to explore a bit.” Mostly, I wanted to know what this encampment actually contained. It looked like any other district within the market. Something that could have been plopped down right next to the Spice District. And yet, they were exiled out into the very lands that everyone was warned not to go towards. Why? “You just can’t,” Grisette said sadly. “The people here… they’re going to get nervous. We are full up and the guard has left us alone for so long. If it gets out that we’re all living out here, the guard may come and put a stop to that.” “Why?” “We’re criminals,” she said sadly. “Does this town look like a criminal town to you?” No. It looked like a place I might light to spend my day. “Please,” she practically begged. “I am sure you are kind. I am sure you mean no harm. But, you need to go. Before anyone gets hurt.” I couldn’t protest with that. These were the lives of dozens, maybe hundreds. All trying to make a bad situation into something worth living with. “How do I get out?” I asked. Grisette stood, walking over to the window. “The star mural across the street. The highest star that is painted red? You need to touch it. It’ll take you somewhere safe.” “Back to the market?” Grisette nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused any trouble.” “No. Of course not. And,” she smiled. “It was kind of nice seeing an outsider after so long. I really wish I could see you again.” Maybe she would. The thing was, this was the Night Market. And I was beginning to learn that despite this being my home, I knew very little about it. “Goodbye, Grisette,” I told her, in case our paths never crossed again. “Goodbye.” The mushrooms waved with her as I left the shop. [[Next|The Gate Out]] I left the shop, looking towards the wall that had closed behind me. Blue ivy grew up along the ridges with small lights peaking between the leaves. Next to it, was the mural. It was chalky, depicting a night sky swirling into purples and reds. Stars were splashed all across the picture with a bright red one near the top. As I got closer, I noticed little handprints and dates. Some of them faded more than others. All of them depicting the life and death of the individuals in Nebula. Looking up at the star, I swallowed thickly. “Here we go,” I muttered to myself. Another place to be quickly transported. Another moment out of my control. Yet, it was my power that had brought me here. I had suddenly been tossed here due to me making a pathway here for reasons I had yet to understand. My power had been nothing when I first arrived here at $name. Now it was beginning to feel out of control. Stepping up to the wall, I reached up as far as I could, my fingers just barely tapping at the bottom tip of the star. But I touched it. My fingers came away red. I felt a strong pull just below my belly button as I was yanked forward, a surprised scream caught in my throat. [[Next|Star Sanctuary]] “A what?” I nearly shrieked. “An encampment,” Dae told me. “A place where the guard puts away all the souls that they just don’t want to deal with anymore. It absolves them of any guilt they may have of killing us, yet, we are no longer a problem for them.” I didn’t know if I should respond in horror or if I should just log it all away for yet another reason why the Velvet Guard shouldn’t exist. “I am so sorry.” “Do you work for the guard?” “No.” “Then don’t be sorry. Though, I do have to ask what you are intending to do here.” “I’m trying to figure out how I got here. And maybe how to get back home.” He seemed a little more relaxed at that, his shoulders not drawn as tight as he stepped towards me. “Well, perhaps I can be of help there.” I was lucky. I realized it then that I could have walked into the wilds never to be seen again. But instead, I had walked into a clean and quiet town. Not only that, but here, there was one very telling difference. Here, the lights were still on. [[Do you know much about the lanterns?]] [[How did all of this come to be?]] [[How many people live in Nebula?]]“This is a really nice prison,” I said. It looked like any other district within the market. One that could have been plopped next to the Spice District. I found myself wanting to explore what Nebula had to offer. That is, if I hadn’t just been tossed here from Artisan Alley. “We do what we can,” he said. I paused, looking back out the window towards the streets. “You all put this together, didn’t you?” Dae was still standing politely in front of me, surrounded by beautiful articles of clothing. “I’m so sorry. I really do not mean to sound abrupt, but is there something I can do for you?” His voice was soft spoken but I could hear the power behind his words. “I’m trying to figure out how I got here. And maybe how to get back home.” He seemed a little more relaxed at that, his shoulders not drawn as tight as he stepped towards me. “Well, perhaps I can be of help there.” I was lucky. I realized it then that I could have walked into the wilds never to be seen again. But instead, I had walked into a clean and quiet town. Not only that, but here, there was one very telling difference. Here, the lights were still on. [[Do you know much about the lanterns?]] [[How did all of this come to be?]] [[How many people live in Nebula?]] I closed my eyes, feeling the horror of what the man had just said, settling against me. “Of course the Velvet Guard is behind this.” I didn’t understand how I could still be surprised anymore. The Velvet Guard had no boundaries and had been left unchecked for too long. “I don’t know anything about this encampment,” I told him sadly. “We are one of many,” he said primly. “We have also been forgotten about which is the way we all like it.” “Because you don’t want to return to the market?” “Absolutely not,” he laughed tightly. “Nebula is the first place where many of us have even been free.” “But you’re so isolated.” “Yet happy. Can many within the market say the same?” I thought about the darkness that had settled across the market proper. The families that had been separated. The way that people had died while stuck between the walls. The graveyard was overflowing and the dead were out of control. There was a constant vein of fear running through the minds of the market. Yet here, no one had been afraid until I came here. Not only that, but here, there was one very telling difference. Here, the lights were still on. [[Do you know much about the lanterns?]] [[How did all of this come to be?]] [[How many people live in Nebula?]]“I want to stay and help,” I protested. These people were living out here. Cut off from everyone. They had no access to help if they needed it. If the monsters of the Outlands attacked, they would have no forces to call upon. They had created a beautiful little community but I didn’t know how I was supposed to step away from it all and pretend like it didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t somehow responsible for all of this. “No,” Cyrilla said firmly. “I know that you mean well but this is not your place. Not even your home. And the longer you stay, the more likely it is that the guard will come looking for you.” “They won’t,” I assured her. “They will. You are kind, $name. Someone out there is going to miss you. And if anyone saw you walk out into the Outlands, they will start hitting these camps. I have seen far too many of my friends die. You have to leave.” My mouth opened, ready to argue. But how? What was I supposed to say to any of that? I had created the Velvet Guard so I had created this mess. But staying here was to appease my own guilt. Not to help them. I would have to find another way. “How do I get home?” I asked after a long moment. Walking me towards the front window, she pointed out towards the wall in which I had walked in from. There was a mural there. Painted with the night sky. “The red star,” she told me. “Touch it and it will get you someplace safe.” “Just like that?” “Just like that.” Stepping away from her, I held the book close to my chest. “Thank you. And thank you for this,” I said, holding out the book. She bowed a little, her eyes lighting with an infernal fire. “I hope I don’t see you again, $name.” I laughed a little. “Same.” [[Next|The Gate Out]]“I don’t actually know how to get home,” I told her. The path back to Artisan Alley was gone. And even if I were to set out into the Outlands, I was afraid I wouldn’t even know the direction to go in. “Well, lucky for you, despite being a penal colony, we have our ways.” Walking me towards the front window, she pointed out towards the wall in which I had walked in from. There was a mural there. Painted with the night sky. “The red star,” she told me. “Touch it and it will get you someplace safe.” “Just like that?” “Just like that.” Stepping away from her, I held the book close to my chest. “Thank you. And thank you for this,” I said, holding out the book. She bowed a little, her eyes lighting with an infernal fire. “I hope I don’t see you again, $name.” I laughed a little. “Same.” [[Next|The Gate Out]]“How am I supposed to just forget about this place?” Going home, pretending like such beauty didn’t exist, would have been hard enough. But now I was holding in my hand a journal. One detailing the lives of people that had been forced within these walls against their will. They had been taken from their homes, their families, and told to never return. I didn’t know how I was supposed to sit by and not do something about it all. “I didn’t say you had to forget us,” Cyrilla said kindly. She had relaxed as time went on. As she had seen the disgust on my face. “But I need you not to breathe a word about us. Not quite yet at least.” “To the guard you mean.” “To anyone that might threaten our existence here.” With the direction the Night Market was going, I wasn’t sure who those people might be. Cyrilla had a sad but wistful look on my face. She knew there would be very little people in my world that I could actually trust. If the guard came here after today, they’d know it was because of me. I held the book to my chest. “I’ll keep this a secret,” I said. I didn’t promise. She seemed like a woman that wouldn’t appreciate that. But I would vow to do my best. “There’s a mural across from where you came in,” she said. “Go to there and touch the red star. It will bring you some place safe.” I nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for this,” I said, holding out the book. She bowed a little, her eyes lighting with an infernal fire. “I hope I don’t see you again, $name.” I laughed a little. “Same.” [[Next|The Gate Out]] A hand was placed on my back. It was Kimber, looking at the way the guard disappeared. “Do you want to take a minute?” she asked. Gabriel disappeared around the corner. The sound of their rhythmic bootfalls fading away. “Today was a lot," I told her. "I haven't had one of those in a long time." "Come on inside then," Sawyer suggested. "Sit with Kimmy and I." I didn't think I could move. I felt beyond tired. The problems that were now surrounding the market were vast and I didn't even know where to begin. But it felt on me to stop it. To fix it all. But at what cost? “We’ll be inside when you need us,” Kimber said sadly. I could tell she wanted to stay by my side but Sawyer was guiding her away. I heard the bakery open and close, leaving me alone in the alley. I wiped at my eyes, feeling the grit of the day coat my skin like a film. Things had to change. All of it had to change. I thought about Nebula. The other encampments that I knew were out there. I thought of Gabriel and the things the guard was doing. The way the world was dying. Milo had locked off our world to the rest because I was tearing myself apart. But now we were left with this. And it felt so much worse than before. Looking up and down the street, the little alleyway I was slowly coming to know, I tried to harden my heart. Whether or not it worked, I had no idea. [[Next|All routes merge 3]]“Milo, I’m worried about you,” I told him. “You’ve isolated yourself. You have no support. It seems as if you are running from everything. I don’t even know how long you’ve been hiding. He swallowed thickly, not quite meeting my eyes. “It’s just the way it has to be.” “No, it’s not.” I wish I could have touched him. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if I could only lay my hands on him, he would fall apart. This facade he kept trying to put up in front of me wouldn’t exist if I could simply just hold him. “You are choosing for things to be this way. And I am trying to hold out my hand to you.” <<if $miloro == "true">> “Don’t,” he told me. “You have already given me too much. I don’t…” “Don’t what?” I asked. “Deserve this? Is that what this is coming down to? You not thinking you are worthy of forgiveness.” “I can’t talk about this,” he said.<</if>> He walked out the room, leaving me within his bedroom that he had been in for some time. A world that looked small and without personality. Devoid of any sort of joy or creature comforts. Just a single sheet that was over his bed. A flat pillow. And a few spare keys on the side of the table. With a sigh, I turned. Milo was still standing there. “I’ll walk you back,” he said, hands in his pocket. <<if $miloro == "true">>"You are not helping ease any of that worry I was talking about," I pointed out to him. "I know," he whispered. "And I'm sorry." And maybe i was feeling merciful, because I let it go. "Let me just walk you home."<</if>> <<if $miloro == "true">>[[I would like that]]<</if>> [[Not tonight]] [[I want to keep a distance between us]]“No,” I said tiredly. “I don’t think I actually want to talk. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to follow you here after all. It was impulsive. Something I’ve indulged in far too much today.” “Because of Nebula?” I looked up at him, surprised to hear him ask me anything. “Yeah.” “I know I have no right to ask this of you but please don’t tell the guard of that place. They’re good people there. They deserve to have a life.” I thought of the starlit town and the rows of shops. The handprints on the walls marking the passage of lives. And how afraid everyone had seemed that I was even there. “I don’t want any harm to come to them,” I said. He nodded. “Good. That’s good.” Sighing, he rubbed a hand across his face, looking around the room. He was at a loss for what it was we were even doing now. “How about I walk you home,” he said. “I’m sure someone is looking for you by now.” <<if $miloro == "true">>[[I would like that]]<</if>> [[Not tonight]] [[I want to keep a distance between us]]<<if $miloend == "true">>My eyes snapped open. Get to Mal. I had to get to Mal. As I shed the twisted blankets from around my torso and jumped out of bed, I quickly shoved my feet into my discarded shoes. How had he not known Lucinda was back? While I understood that he wasn’t exactly seeing Hazel right now, I thought that she would have told him that their mother had been revived. Living in the apothecary, even. The look that had crossed Malcolm’s eyes however was one of pure fear. The kind that left you quivering and alone in the dark. <<elseif $miloend == "false">> My eyes snapped open. I had been caught up in a dreamless sleep, my body floating somewhere within the cosmos. I had been laid down in a bed of cotton and given to the stars. I remembered thinking how I didn’t want to leave. That I could spend forever in the embrace of stardust. And then I felt the wave of nausea over take me as I was jerked away. Rolling to my side, I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the ground, watching in somewhat rapt fascination as it disappeared. Something felt wrong. I tossed the blankets from me and shoved my feet into a pair of discarded shoes I didn’t remember acquiring.<</if>> Throwing open my window, I climbed out, slipping in my haste. I reached out to catch myself on the flower box to prevent myself from crashing to the ground but my hand slipped right through the weathered wood. The world around me was swimming as I knocked my head onto the cobblestone streets. Lifting my hand I went to pull myself upward, watching as my skin flickered. Just like the lantern when they were first born, I was fading in and out of existence. Fear gripped me as I wiggled my fingers in front of my face. I could see through me towards the dark shop windows of Turners clock shop. I could feel my consciousness starting to swim as it unraveled around me. Bit by bit I felt my mind dissolving into the market, curling outwards to dissipate back into the world beyond. Sleep. Perfect sleep. I sucked in a harsh breath. I had to find something to hold onto to keep me here because I could feel it at that moment. My grave was calling. <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Think of Milo|Think of RO]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Think of Gabriel|Think of RO]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Think of Belladonna|Think of RO]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Think of Hazel|Think of RO]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Think of Gabriel and Belladonna|Think of RO]]<</if>> [[Think of your grandmothers quilt]] [[Think of the new friends you've met]] <<if $miloro == "true">>I thought of Milo. I thought of the way there was so much left unsaid. I didn’t know what the future brought between the two of us but I did know that I needed to be here to try. To figure it all out. And then there was Mal. I was his Lamplight. I couldn’t allow myself to be placed back into non-existence. There was such a weight that surrounded Malcolm. I didn’t want to add to it. I needed to stay. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> I thought of Belladonna. The way she had looked when I had seen her upon first arriving. She had been far too pale. Weak. It was the perfect time for someone to take advantage of her. Something I think had already begun, given what I had witnessed in the alley. The likelihood of me being able to physically protect her was thin when faced with trained individuals. But, I was still the Night Market, no matter how cut off from the world I was. And that counted for something. Belladonna would not ask for help. I didn’t expect her to. But I wasn’t going to leave her yet again and let things get even worse. I would show this woman I cared until the day we were ripped apart. <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> I thought of Gabriel. How he saw right through me. There were brief flashes when I knew he believed I was there. The doubt over his belief was chipping away at him more and more each day. I needed to survive. I needed to stay so I could one day reach out and touch him. Prove to him that I was still here. That I still loved him. He needed that more than anything right now. I feared what would happen if that day was a distant moment. I was no longer certain how long Gabriel was going to be able to survive this. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> I thought of both Belladonna and Gabriel. They were supposed to be together. Supposed to be at each other's sides. Why weren’t they? Naively I had thought they would have each other if anything were to happen to me. There was comfort in this knowledge. But my passing had thrown them both to the wind and they couldn’t seem to make it back to one another. I needed to be here for them. To hold them both. To feel Belladonna’s chilly embrace and Gabriel’s broad comforting arms. I longed to lay between them in bed, breathing deeply and existing in the same space for once. We had been on the brink of something so beautiful and then it was taken from us due to my own machinations. I couldn’t stomach it if once again, I was gone. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> I thought of Hazel. She didn’t even remember me. But there was something there. A spark of sorts. I was an imprint on her heart that still called to her. If I was to disappear now, then there was no telling what would take place. Would I be given this opportunity again? Whatever magic was surrounding her would only grow stronger with time. I couldn’t allow it to linger much longer. If I did, I would lose her forever. No, I had to fight. If only for her. I wasn’t giving up. Hazel deserved to have someone in her corner. Someone that loved her enough to defy all odds.<</if>> Looking around, the gas lights all flickered, fighting the darkness that was steadily consuming the rest of the market. I could see Kimbers bakery at the very end of the alley. It was still lit but I didn’t see anyone inside. The gem store across the street still had the closed sign hanging outside of it, but a soft lapis glow coated the rock face surrounding the arched entrance. Everything within Artisan Alley looked fine. But I could feel it. It was a shift within my gut. Like the world had slowly tilted and I was turning on its axis. I walked down to the end of the alley, still finding nothing amiss, other than my momentary call to the dead. The world, however, was quiet. Far too quiet. [[Reach out for whatever is wrong]] [[Listen for the calls of pain]] [[Walk cautiously into the dark]] I thought of my grandmother’s quilt. How safe I had felt beneath it. I remembered the way it wrapped me up, lulling me to sleep each night. The stars were always so pretty beneath that quilt. It was there that I learned what I was, //who// I was. The importance of the world before me and the horrors that would go along with it. I had felt such excitement. Even with the bad. I had looked forward to what life would bring. Those days had been soft and warm and part of me longed to go back there. Life was easier then. I felt myself fall back. As if the earthen floor was nothing more than soft sand and I was the grains that filled the basin of our world. I sunk into everything, splitting apart and becoming a small set of grains that mixed in with life and death and broken detritus that was rotting beneath the feet stomping around the streets. “Nope nope nope!” I was yanked back by an ethereal hand, gasping and sputtering as I spit out bits of dirt and blood. Pen stood in front of me. “Don’t do that,” $heshe said. “You do that and you’re not you anymore. You’re the Night Market. Let’s not, okay?” I blinked, feeling a crusted layer of death solidifying around me. “You’re here?” “And you were about to not be. Which, I must say? Not great given what is about to happen.” “What’s about to happen?” Pen stepped close. $HisHer hand reached up, cupping my cheek. It felt solid and warm against me and for once, I leaned in. Just for a moment. My body still felt as if it were unraveling. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> “I’ll see you soon.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “I’ll see you soon.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “I’ll see you soon.” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “She’ll be okay.” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> “She’ll be okay.” <<elseif $platonic == "true">> “She’ll be okay.”<</if>> I blinked at $himher. “What?” $HisHer feet knocked against my own as $heshe stepped forwarded and brushed a kiss across my lips. It was so light that I almost could convince myself it didn’t happen. And in the span of a single breath, not only was I solid again, but Pen was gone. The feeling on unease was growing, however. Looking around, the gas lights all flickered, fighting the darkness that was steadily consuming the rest of the market. I could see Kimbers bakery at the very end of the alley. It was still lit but I didn’t see anyone inside. The gem store across the street still had the closed sign hanging outside of it, but a soft lapis glow coated the rock face surrounding the arched entrance. Everything within Artisan Alley looked fine. But I could feel it. It was a shift within my gut. Like the world had slowly tilted and I was turning on its axis. I walked down to the end of the alley, still finding nothing amiss, other than my momentary call to the dead. The world, however, was quiet. Far too quiet. [[Reach out for whatever is wrong]] [[Listen for the calls of pain]] [[Walk cautiously into the dark]]“No,” I whispered. I wasn’t going anywhere. It was my choice to stay. There was no world in which I was going to allow myself to be shoved six feet under the ground again with a mysterious door. I thought of the people I had recently met. How they had accepted me without reservation. Kimber had been forcefully trying to feed me from the day I stepped foot in the alley. Every time I passed her by, if I even looked in her direction, she practically screamed the word “muffins” at me before dragging me into the bakery to have something to eat. And Sawyer… Sawyer was Sawyer. He was loud and brash and at first, I thought he was hitting on everything that moved. Which, the verdict may have still been out about. But he was also incredibly soft towards the people he cared for. I saw it when he held Iblis. The way he cuddled the boy close and snarled right back at him in some sort of game. He had been a rock for me over the last few days. A bright light within the alley. Even Turner was someone I wished to stay for. The man that spewed the word ‘fuck’ like it was his favorite dessert. But the way he had looked at me when I had gotten back from Nebula. The fear that had been in his eyes over the possibility that something had happened to me. He cared. He cared and didn’t have any way of showing it. If it wasn’t for Herald, I would have assumed that he wasn’t capable of such a thing. But when the big man entered the room, Turner melted. And then there was Herald. The steady rock that ambled through the Night Market streets. Not just keep me as the construct safe, but me as the cosmic whole. He patrolled the streets and took care of the dead and made sure everyone had a place to rest while they waited for their clocks to tick back on. I thought of all of them. My artisan Alley friends. I wasn’t going to leave them. I refused to. My hand became solid once more as I rose to my feet. Looking around, the gas lights all flickered, fighting the darkness that was steadily consuming the rest of the market. I could see Kimbers bakery at the very end of the alley. It was still lit but I didn’t see anyone inside. The gem store across the street still had the closed sign hanging outside of it, but a soft lapis glow coated the rock face surrounding the arched entrance. Everything within Artisan Alley looked fine. But I could feel it. It was a shift within my gut. Like the world had slowly tilted and I was turning on its axis. I walked down to the end of the alley, still finding nothing amiss, other than my momentary call to the dead. The world, however, was quiet. Far too quiet. Looking around, the gas lights all flickered, fighting the darkness that was steadily consuming the rest of the market. I could see Kimbers bakery at the very end of the alley. It was still lit but I didn’t see anyone inside. The gem store across the street still had the closed sign hanging outside of it, but a soft lapis glow coated the rock face surrounding the arched entrance. Everything within Artisan Alley looked fine. But I could feel it. It was a shift within my gut. Like the world had slowly tilted and I was turning on its axis. I walked down to the end of the alley, still finding nothing amiss, other than my momentary call to the dead. The world, however, was quiet. Far too quiet. [[Reach out for whatever is wrong]] [[Listen for the calls of pain]] [[Walk cautiously into the dark]] I reached out with my hands, as if to wave aside the distance and grasp whatever was wrong. I stepped a few yards out of the alleyway, not wanting to accidentally create a gate or a door again. I doubted Turner would be able to take much more of that. Though, as I rounded the corner, I saw an archway. Something that hadn’t been there before. It was embedded within the walls and had the smell of fresh ground concrete lingering around the entrance. Again I thought of Turner. The man was going to have an aneurysm if I kept this stuff up. I ducked through it, walking into a long tunnel that was still forming as I stepped. I watched as the walls parted for me, smoothing out into a large storm drain. My heart was pounding, racing within my chest as I began to pick up speed. When the wall finally burst open, revealing a decimated district in front of me, I felt my heart come to a stop. I had known there had been something wrong within the market, but nothing could have prepared me for this. When the dust settled, my heart leapt to my throat. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel Drama]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel Drama]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Hazel Drama]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]]<</if>> I closed my eyes, listening for the calls of pain that I knew would be there. Most of my life had been spent attuning myself to the other realities out there. Listening for their cries. Their prayers. But I should have been attuned to the people here. The pain that was spreading through the market like a disease. I was here now. Even in the capacity I was in, I could take care of them. The screams became louder and louder the more I concentrated. I followed it, seeing the waves of sound pulse through the market. Reaching out, I entwined my fingers within the swirling purple bits of sound, cries of pain lashing against me. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in Artisan Alley. I couldn’t quite think where I was. But the horror that rolled against me as the cries became real, made my heart stutter to a stop. When the dust settled, my heart leapt to my throat. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel Drama]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel Drama]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Hazel Drama]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]]<</if>> I wanted to be someone who trusted my gut when situations became dire. Yet, I knew how easily that could cross over into paranoia. I wasn’t exactly sure which side I fell upon. Simply saying something was wrong within the market wasn’t exactly a risky opinion. Two seconds standing beneath the tattered lanterns and anyone could tell. This felt far different. Though life in general had felt different since rejoining. I couldn’t tell if this was a new danger brewing on the horizon or the discontent that I was taking in and accepting as my new world. I walked cautiously into the dark. My footsteps echoed around me, bouncing off the walls and skittering like pebbles towards the adjacent streets. No one was wandering today. It was hard to tell the time of day. I was hoping that most of the market was simply asleep. As I walked further into the dark I began to hear the whispers. The spirits that existed within the walls called out to me. Their words wove through the stones causing loose bricks to crumble to the ground. A few shattered like dust at my feet, their efforts rising up in a plume of unspoken words. I stopped, reaching out to the walls themselves. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” I told them. “I’m not fully me anymore.” Another brick fell a few yards in front of me. Like before, it crumbled, the last vestiges of its life disappearing into the silence. Frowning, I took a step forward. When another fell a few yards in front of that brick, I began to pick up pace. Over and over bricks were pushed from the wall, turning me down alleyways and twisting me into corners of the market I had yet to be. I came to a skidding stop as an entire wall fell. When the dust settled, my heart leapt to my throat. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel Drama]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel Drama]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Hazel Drama]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel Drama]]<</if>> Green light dripped down the walls, crackling with a metallic heat that singed me on sight. Bodies lay on the ground, their mouths open with black bubbling up like tar between their lips. There was a silence here. So unlike the screams that I had thought I heard. The static shock of magic was growing louder and louder as it caged the square that I had broken into. Behind me, I could see the entrance to the alley threatening to shut. “Help us.” The groan came to my right. A woman in the early stages of her life, looking up at me with wide blue eyes that were now muddied with black smoke. The same tar that had choked the rest of the bodies, was dribbling from her lips. I knelt down, eyes frantically searching her for a way to help. “What happened here? What can I do?” “We tried,” the woman coughed. “We tried to keep our promise. Harvest is not going well.” “Harvest?” There was nothing in this alley. It was just a large swath of bodies and burning rubble. If there had been anything here once, it was long buried beneath the smoke now. “Please,” the woman cried. “Do something.” The tar was getting worse. She began thrashing as it boiled within her lungs, bursting from her mouth with splashes of flesh and green magic. I reached out for the woman, unsure what my touch could even do. It was doubtful I could even provide comfort in such a moment. I never got the chance to touch her, however. She jerked away, her body contorting as she silently screamed. Her eye burst within the cavity, her lips caked with the black substance, and all at once, her body went still. [[Get out of there]] [[Search for other survivors]] [[Search for the source of magic]] <<set $hazelbreak to "true">> I stumbled back as the floor beneath me began to crumble. Brick by brick it dropped down into the nothingness of the undercity as the walls around me began to move and reform. A group of shoppers screamed as they scattered, trying not to be trapped by the walls while the candles fell over, the wax dripping across the street and forming large walls of melting ooze. The Velvet Guard were trying their best to guide people safely from the alley but the chaos that surrounded them was pouring out in waves of fear, turning the market mad. People dashed left and right and ran straight into walls. While others fell below with the stone and the broken stalls. “You,” someone shouted. I looked around until I found the man in the velvet uniform, pointing directly at me. “You need to come and help!” “Me? What are you-?” “You know the Warden. I used to see you around the precinct. He’s lost it. We need your help.” “Gabriel?” “Yes. Now come with me.” [[There was no time. Go with the man]] [[Not until you tell me what is going on]] <<set $gabrielbreak to "true">> I turned to leave. Whatever had happened here was far above my ability to take care of. I needed help. Some sort of magic nulling talisman. The presence of someone that was far more knowledgeable about power of this magnitude. But when I turned, the dead blocked the way out. I stumbled back. There were dozens of them. Together they formed an impenetrable wall as they stared at me with the tar still dripping down their spectral chins. One by one they raised their arms and pointed. “I’ll get help,” I tried to reason with them. “I will not just leave you all here. But I am no match for whatever is in this alley.” They didn’t care about my plight. I supposed in death, they had very little patience for someone who was desperate to keep their own existence. Their arms were unwavering as they continued to point, and as I looked over my shoulder, I saw the small passage they were pointing to. It was no more than a yard thick and pulsed with the green magic around us. Against my better judgment, I turned back towards it. The bodies littered around were rigid. Contorted in unnatural ways. I could see a few more signs of what the alley might have been like before the attack. There were small homes set into the walls itself. Gathering baskets tossed among the corpses. The fire that had ravaged the first portion hadn’t touched this one. Instead, the people had been crushed and twisted together in some strange amalgamation of terror. Cautiously, I stepped over them, frantically searching for a way out. I heard a faint hum coming from within one of the houses. A bottle fell over somewhere, rolling across stone. When a door creaked open I whipped my head around, briefly debating whether or not I should hide. Hazel stepped out from the home, basket slung over her arm. She closed the door politely behind her, continuing to hum. Her hair was down around her shoulders, green magic singeing the edges. I looked on in horror as I spied the black tar from the dead bodies splashed across her skirts. “Hazel?” I asked, almost hoping that it was a figment. Some strange sort of specter that was just wandering the alley. She didn’t answer me. Instead, she went into the next home, continuing to hum. I could hear her rummaging around inside with no resistance. No one was left alive within this district. [[Go get help from Malcolm]] [[Go in after her]] I began searching for signs of life. Maybe a few had managed to evade the magic. One or two had to harbor an immunity for whatever happened here. But each body I knelt next to was more of the same. Their eyes stared towards the stars in fear, some were reaching out for their loved ones, and all of them had a mouth full of still bubbling tar. Standing, I brushed my hands off, spying a small opening near the back of the square. I made my way towards it, hoping for something less bleak. And while the crackle of fire- or whatever it was that had burned every bit of these people's lives- was absent, the death toll was just as high, if not higher. These souls didn’t have the tar staining their lips, however. Instead, their bodies were twisted. Limbs cracked at unnatural angles, bending around themselves in a jagged compression. I listened carefully for breathing. For signs of distress. But it was clear that no one within the streets was alive. Houses were inset into the walls, their windows still lit. There was hope that someone might have hidden within them. I heard a faint hum coming from within one of the homes. A bottle fell over somewhere, rolling across stone. When a door creaked open I whipped my head around, briefly debating whether or not I should hide. Hazel stepped out from the home, basket slung over her arm. She closed the door politely behind her, continuing to hum. Her hair was down around her shoulders, green magic singeing the edges. I looked on in horror as I spied the black tar from the dead bodies splashed across her skirts. “Hazel?” I asked, almost hoping that it was a figment. Some strange sort of specter that was just wandering the alley. She didn’t answer me. Instead, she went into the next home, continuing to hum. I could hear her rummaging around inside with no resistance. No one was left alive within this district. [[Go get help from Malcolm]] [[Go in after her]] I stood, tracing the lines of magic that branched out across the walls. Each line of it dissolved into the alley walls before pushing back forward with a sizzling pulse. I followed them, watching as they connected together, creating a thick weave that would forever interlock together, scarring this district. What I had once assumed to be a small square had a brief opening hidden towards the back. The ground was worn in a brief passage to even more destruction. I covered my nose against the pungent, acidic smell. It bloomed from the bodies here, reaching out as if to protect themselves but having died before they could even let out a scream. Their corpses were rigid. Contorted in unnatural ways. I could see a few more signs of what the alley might have been like before the attack. There were small homes set into the walls itself. Gathering baskets tossed among the dead. The fire that had ravaged the first portion hadn’t touched this place. Instead, the people had been crushed together in some strange amalgamation of terror. Cautiously, I stepped over them, searching for the source of the magic. Looking for a point it all thrummed from. As each of my senses heightened, I heard a faint hum coming from within one of the houses. A bottle fell over somewhere, rolling across stone. When a door creaked open I whipped my head around, briefly debating whether or not I should hide. Hazel stepped out from the home, basket slung over her arm. She closed the door politely behind her, continuing to hum. Her hair was down around her shoulders, green magic singeing the edges. I looked on in horror as I spied the black tar from the dead bodies splashed across her skirts. “Hazel?” I asked, almost hoping that it was a figment. Some strange sort of specter that was just wandering the alley. She didn’t answer me. Instead, she went into the next home, continuing to hum. I could hear her rummaging around inside with no resistance. No one was left alive within this district. [[Go get help from Malcolm]] [[Go in after her]] I wasn’t going to do this. I needed to get help. Malcolm was the only logical choice and I desperately searched for a way to get to him. There was an archway that led out of the alley. I wasn’t sure where it headed but I ran to it all the same. And skidded to a halt as I somehow wound up in the house, staring at the back of Hazel's head. She looked over her shoulder at me, smiling. “Can I help you?” She looked normal. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Like my Hazel. Her face was still soft in that dreamy sort of way she got in the morning. Her lips pouty because she had been chewing on them in concentration.<<elseif $hazelro == "false">> Aside from the fact that she had clearly lost weight the last few months, she was still recognizable as the woman who had taken me in when I first arrived at the market, no questions asked. <</if>>Yet, I couldn’t ignore the way her fingers were darker than normal. Nearly stained black and far too reminiscent of the tar that had coated the dead. “Hazel, what are you doing?” I tried not to jump to conclusions. I was desperately hoping, in fact, that I was misinterpreting the situation. “Getting supplies, silly,” she grinned. She dropped a small cat's skull into the basket, letting it settle among various bones and herbs and darkly colored tonics. “We have so many orders to fulfill,” she continued. “The shop is booming. Is there anything I can get you? It might take me a day or two to whip up but if you tell me what ails you I can add you to the list.” [[Do you think we are at the apothecary]] [[Do you know what happened to all the people out there]] <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[Do you know who I am?]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[You remember me, right?]]<</if>> I walked towards the house, peering through the window first. Hazel was stepping over bodies, clearing shelves of multi colored bottles before dropping them into her basket. For a moment, I didn’t even believe it was her. Uncharacteristically unaffected by the death around her. As she stepped on someone's flaccid hand she looked down, gasping. “Sorry,” she whispered, shifting to the right. She went right back to gathering whatever it was she was putting in her basket, her humming filling the room. I approached the door, pushing it open with the tips of my fingers. “I’ll be just a minute,” she called out to me. “Hazel.” I said her name with caution, stepping only just inside the room. She looked over her shoulder at me, smiling. “Can I help you?” She looked normal. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Like my Hazel. Her face was still soft in that dreamy sort of way she got in the morning. Her lips pouty because she had been chewing on them in concentration.<<elseif $hazelro == "false">> Aside from the fact that she had clearly lost weight the last few months, she was still recognizable as the woman who had taken me in when I first arrived at the market, no questions asked. <</if>>Yet, I couldn’t ignore the way her fingers were darker than normal. Nearly stained black and far too reminiscent of the tar that had coated the dead. “Hazel, what are you doing?” I tried not to jump to conclusions. I was desperately hoping, in fact, that I was misinterpreting the situation. “Getting supplies, silly,” she grinned. She dropped a small cat's skull into the basket, letting it settle among various bones and herbs and darkly colored tonics. “We have so many orders to fulfill,” she continued. “The shop is booming. Is there anything I can get you? It might take me a day or two to whip up but if you tell me what ails you I can add you to the list.” [[Do you think we are at the apothecary]] [[Do you know what happened to all the people out there]] <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[Do you know who I am?]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[You remember me, right?]]<</if>> “Do you think we are at the apothecary?” She was far too unaware of her surroundings. Acting as if she were in the back storage room instead of someone's house. She frowned. “Why are you back here?” she asked, as if suddenly realizing how strange it was for a ‘customer’ to be in the backroom with her. “I don’t think you quite know where you are,” I pointed out to her. I heard a scuffle from the other room. Someone was looking out through the crack in the door. Their lips were pale and eyes wide in terror. I had to get Hazel out of here before she saw them. While I wasn’t positive that she was the one responsible, the doubt was starting to add up. “Hazel,” I kept my voice calm. “I think we need to get out of here.” She laughed a little, turning back to the shelves. “After I’m done.” “You don’t seem like you fully understand what is happening here,” I told her, wincing as she once again stepped on a corpse. “It’s not like gathering supplies is a nefarious deed,” she said with a roll of her eyes. As if I were the one overreacting to the situation. “Now, if you’ll just go to the front of the shop I can get my mother to take your order. I’m a bit busy right now.” [[Your mother isn’t here]] [[Let me help you]] [[(play along) Your mother sent me]]“Do you know what happened to all the people out there?” I asked. I held my breath as I waited for her to answer. I wanted her to say that something had come through. That she had found them like this and was just taking advantage of the spell components that were left behind. It wasn’t the most ethical of stories but it would still be far better than what I feared was actually happening. “What people?” she asked, continuing to gather. My heart fell. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. “Hazel,” I kept my voice calm. “I think we need to get out of here.” She laughed a little, turning back to the shelves. “After I’m done.” “You don’t seem like you fully understand what is happening here,” I told her, wincing as she once again stepped on a corpse. “It’s not like gathering supplies is a nefarious deed,” she said with a roll of her eyes. As if I were the one overreacting to the situation. “Now, if you’ll just go to the front of the shop I can get my mother to take your order. I’m a bit busy right now.” [[Your mother isn’t here]] [[Let me help you]] [[(play along) Your mother sent me]] “Do you know who I am?” I asked. Something snapped across her eyes as if she were trying to see through me. That green magic shimmered in a glowing ring around her irises. But she shook her head. “I”m sorry. Have you been in the shop before?” “Hazel, it’s $name.” I hadn’t seen her since getting back. Maybe I should have checked on her sooner. But Malcolm hadn’t even said anything. Now that I thought about it, Malcolm hadn’t said much about his sister. “It’s very nice to meet you, $name. Now what can I do for you?” She was swaying back and forth on her feet. Any sign of recognition completely gone. “Hazel,” I kept my voice calm. “I think we need to get out of here.” She laughed a little, turning back to the shelves. “After I’m done.” “You don’t seem like you fully understand what is happening here,” I told her, wincing as she once again stepped on a corpse. “It’s not like gathering supplies is a nefarious deed,” she said with a roll of her eyes. As if I were the one overreacting to the situation. “Now, if you’ll just go to the front of the shop I can get my mother to take your order. I’m a bit busy right now.” [[Your mother isn’t here]] [[Let me help you]] [[(play along) Your mother sent me]] “You remember who I am, right?” There was a lightness to her voice that felt unnatural. Like she was about to float away with a soft sigh. I couldn’t be sure how long she could hold my image in her memories. If anything that sparked a memory of me was quickly erased. When she looked at me, it took her a moment to recognize who I was. Despite the fact that we had been sitting at Kimber’s bakery only the day before. “Oh, yes. $name, right? It’s nice to see you again.” Mechanically, she turned back to the task at hand. “Hazel,” I kept my voice calm. “I think we need to get out of here.” She laughed a little, turning back to the shelves. “After I’m done.” “You don’t seem like you fully understand what is happening here,” I told her, wincing as she once again stepped on a corpse. “It’s not like gathering supplies is a nefarious deed,” she said with a roll of her eyes. As if I were the one overreacting to the situation. “Now, if you’ll just go to the front of the shop I can get my mother to take your order. I’m a bit busy right now.” [[Your mother isn’t here]] [[Let me help you]] [[(play along) Your mother sent me]]“Your mother isn’t here,” I told her. “You’re not in the apothecary.” “I know that,” she laughed. “I’m gathering the supplies and putting them in the storage house. Those are two very different things.” I was the afflicted one in her eyes. The one confused while she patiently explained the world to me. It left me feeling sick. “You really shouldn’t be here, though. These kinds of ingredients are dangerous if not handled properly.” I had the urge to rip them from her hands. She wasn’t in her right mind and I doubted it was out of the realm of reason for her to mishandle them as well. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Aside from that, I knew her fear. The things her mother had done were the kinds of things that had kept her up late at night. The nightmares she would wake from, clinging to me with tears on her cheek, were ones that haunted her more than she’d ever admit. So many nights had been spent holding her. Assuring her that she was not Lucinda. Seeing her here and now, I knew she was not acting under her own volition.<</if>> Searching for a way to get her away from this place, I could only come up with a lie. I would give her the truth later when I thought she would be able to hear it, but not now. “If these components are so dangerous we should probably get them back to your mother now. We can then come back and get the rest of the stuff. Better to be safe than sorry.” “Alright.” She dropped a few more things in her basket before heading towards the door. Her skirts swished across the floor, gathering blood. I heard several sounds beneath the floorboards but pretended like I didn’t notice. My only priority was getting Hazel to safety. The air was still cloying with magic as we stepped out to the massacre that was the district. Hazel was walking towards a small area where she had placed dozens of baskets on a cart. She had raided the entire place. “What is all this?” I asked. “Oh.” She looked the slightest bit embarrassed. “Sorry. I forget sometimes that not everyone is versed in herbal magic. These are all rare components. We have been blessed to have so much shipped to us in the recent months. It’s going to allow us to make far different tonics than before.” [[Why are they so rare?]] [[Where did you get the shipment from]] [[I thought you had a nice variety before]] “Hey, that all looks like a lot to carry,” I said. “Let me help you. I can carry the basket if you want.” She looked down at the tiny basket looped through her arm. “I think I can manage,” she laughed a little. Her eyes ticked out the window. “Although, the cart is probably very heavy. Do you think you could help me with that?” “Of course. Let’s go now.” “I have a few more things to rustle up,” she said, plopping in a shimmering set of scales. <<if $hazelro == "true">> I remembered similar ones. Things that had been donated to her for proper disposal. I awoke one morning to her burning something outside, sweat pouring down her body despite the balmy morning air. The flames had screamed into the darkened sky, bursting into the silhouette of a dragon. When she had come back inside, she was shivering. We spent the rest of the day huddled under a blanket.<</if>> “We’ll come back. It’s best not to overload the cart. It would be a shame if it broke from being overloaded.” She paused at that, taking it into consideration. As she looked down at her basket, she sighed in disappointment. “No, you’re right. Let’s get back to the cart and unload it. Then we can come back. Would you like to come with me?” “Yes,” I said, almost too quickly. I just needed to get her out of this house. Back to Artisan Alley where I would contact Malcolm and ask for help from Kimber and Sawyer. Someone had to know what to do here. “Alright.” She dropped a few more things in her basket before heading towards the door. Her skirts swished across the floor, gathering blood. I heard several sounds beneath the floorboards but pretended like I didn’t notice. My only priority was getting Hazel to safety. The air was still cloying with magic as we stepped out to the massacre that was the district. Hazel was walking towards a small area where she had placed dozens of baskets on a cart. She had raided the entire place. “What is all this?” I asked. “Oh.” She looked the slightest bit embarrassed. “Sorry. I forget sometimes that not everyone is versed in herbal magic. These are all rare components. We have been blessed to have so much shipped to us in the recent months. It’s going to allow us to make far different tonics than before.” [[Why are they so rare?]] [[Where did you get the shipment from]] [[I thought you had a nice variety before]] “Your mother actually sent me,” I replied, trying to make my voice sound cheerful. “She said that you might need help.” Hazel’s face fell, her hand frozen above her basket. “Did she not think I could do it? I know what I’m looking for. I do. I promised her I would bring back the right components this time.” “No, no,” I said quickly. “No, she thinks you’re capable. She just thought you might need help carrying everything back to the apothecary.” I felt dirty for the lie. Especially when she smiled at me in relief. But I needed to get her out of here. If I could guide her back to Artisan Alley, I could get her help. Contact Malcolm. Someone was bound to know what to do. I couldn’t leave her here for the Velvet Guard to find. “How about you show me what you’ve gotten so far?” I asked, trying to get her out of the house. “Alright.” She dropped a few more things in her basket before heading towards the door. Her skirts swished across the floor, gathering blood. I heard several sounds beneath the floorboards but pretended like I didn’t notice. My only priority was getting Hazel to safety. The air was still cloying with magic as we stepped out to the massacre that was the district. Hazel was walking towards a small area where she had placed dozens of baskets on a cart. She had raided the entire place. “What is all this?” I asked. “Oh.” She looked the slightest bit embarrassed. “Sorry. I forget sometimes that not everyone is versed in herbal magic. These are all rare components. We have been blessed to have so much shipped to us in the recent months. It’s going to allow us to make far different tonics than before.” [[Why are they so rare?]] [[Where did you get the shipment from]] [[I thought you had a nice variety before]] “Why are they so rare?” I asked her. I could recognize some of the ingredients but not all. While I wasn’t well versed in the ingredients of the shop, I knew enough on sight to know they weren’t Hazel’s typical ingredients. “Most of them have to be harvested from something live. Animals mostly. And since flesh and blood creatures are a bit of a rarity in the Night Market, it is hard to come by. You can’t really get ground down unicorn horn from a piece of cardstock,” she giggled. The only place that I knew of that had flesh and blood creatures was the outlands. And even then, the rumor was that they were mostly beasts. "And you're okay with that? It was never someting you were okay with before. Or at least I thought you weren't." She began to protest. I could see it on her lips. But the words failed her. Because Hazel had always cared about others far more than she cared about herself. She had worked hard all her life to rid herself of the sickness her mother had left behind. She had rid the shop of all of Lucinda’s anger and ambition and had made it her own. To see it slipping from her now broke my heart. But more importantly, I could see that she needed help to see it. Help to get back to the woman she wanted to be. “I–” Green flickered in her eyes, snapping in half. The deep tones of her eyes warmed. It wasn’t until now that I realized how cold they had been. “$name?” She looked around in mounting horror, eyes catching on the mounds of corpses around us. Her feet slipped from beneath her as she scrambled backwards, hand clapped over her mouth. The second her fingers touched her lips she jerked away, staring at the blackened tips shot through with green. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Honey, you’re okay. Everything is going to be alright]]<</if>> [[I’m going to get you out of here]] [[What happened here?]]“Where did you get the shipment from?” I asked. She had never gotten it before. These kinds of ingredients were not normally ones she trusted anyone else to bring her and even then, they were rarely items she brought into her private collection. “Oh, the little village here,” she said brightly. “They are a community that helps twist items into occult status. Keep it all hush hush from the Velvet Guard. They’ve been lovely and donating to us each month.” Donating. That hadn’t been the reaction of the woman before. “That’s nice of them,” I started. “Isn’t it?” She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and certainly what she was even talking about. “How did you work out such a deal?” “Oh, I didn’t,” she laughed a little. “I could never negotiate something like that. My mother is the one that took care of it. She’s really bringing the apothecary up to date. I’m so grateful to have her.” "Even after everything she's done?" I asked before I could stop myself. She began to protest. I could see it on her lips. But the words failed her. Because Hazel had always cared about others far more than she cared about herself. She had worked hard all her life to rid herself of the sickness her mother had left behind. She had rid the shop of all of Lucinda’s anger and ambition and had made it her own. To see it slipping from her now broke my heart. But more importantly, I could see that she needed help to see it. Help to get back to the woman she wanted to be. “I–” Green flickered in her eyes, snapping in half. The deep tones of her eyes warmed. It wasn’t until now that I realized how cold they had been. “$name?” She looked around in mounting horror, eyes catching on the mounds of corpses around us. Her feet slipped from beneath her as she scrambled backwards, hand clapped over her mouth. The second her fingers touched her lips she jerked away, staring at the blackened tips shot through with green. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Honey, you’re okay. Everything is going to be alright]]<</if>> [[I’m going to get you out of here]] [[What happened here?]]“I thought you had a nice variety of tonics before,” I told her. “We never ran out of things to fill our orders.” “Our orders?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Then the words washed away, as if they were never said. “These components are going to make us go far. We need to expand our clientele. Cater to a different kind of people within the Night Market. It’s not all about healing.” “There are areas in the market that take care of those people. I always liked how the apothecary took care of those in need. It was a safe space to go.” “It’s still a safe space,” she protested. I looked down at the cart. “With all of this?” “Of course. I mean, yes, in the wrong hands these aren’t the safest ingredients. But I’m not selling the them on their own to people who don’t know what they’re doing.” “So you vet them?” “Well, no. But I can tell.” “You just told me about how dangerous these ingredients were. That they were rare. Rare for a reason.” I tipped my head downwards, catching her eyes. “Is this really what you want?” She began to protest. I could see it on her lips. But the words failed her. Because Hazel had always cared about others far more than she cared about herself. She had worked hard all her life to rid herself of the sickness her mother had left behind. She had rid the shop of all of Lucinda’s anger and ambition and had made it her own. To see it slipping from her now broke my heart. But more importantly, I could see that she needed help to see it. Help to get back to the woman she wanted to be. “I–” Green flickered in her eyes, snapping in half. The deep tones of her eyes warmed. It wasn’t until now that I realized how cold they had been. “$name?” She looked around in mounting horror, eyes catching on the mounds of corpses around us. Her feet slipped from beneath her as she scrambled backwards, hand clapped over her mouth. The second her fingers touched her lips she jerked away, staring at the blackened tips shot through with green. <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Honey, you’re okay. Everything is going to be alright]]<</if>> [[I’m going to get you out of here]] [[What happened here?]]“Honey,” I said, keeping my voice soothing. “You’re okay. Everything is going to be alright. We’ll figure this out together.” I reached out, trying to take her hand in mine. I willed it to connect. To touch her. To prove to her that I had this under control. “I- I don’t– Did I do this?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. “Are they dead? They can’t be dead. They–” Tears began to spill down her face. She went to her knees, crawling towards the nearest body. “Hazel, we need to go,” I told her. <<if $hazelro == "true">>The lost lives that surrounded us called out to me but I could only think of her. I couldn’t let her fall for this. No matter if her own hands ended these lives, it wasn’t her. It couldn’t have possibly been her. <</if>> “We can figure all of this out later. But right now, we need to get out of here.” “I killed them,” she sobbed, bent over the body, blood staining her hands. “I killed them all.” Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her fingers curling against the ground. The alley began to tremble, the walls brightening with the same green poison that had coated them when I first arrived. “We don’t know how long we have until the Velvet Guard gets here,” I told her urgently. “We don’t know how long until that spell comes back over you.” Because she had been compelled. I knew it with certainty now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head resting on the body before her. “I’m so sorry.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>“Hazel, we have to go!” I urged her. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> “Hazel, honey, we will handle this. Together. But right now, we have to go. You need to take my hand and trust me.”<</if>> Beneath me, the ground cracked. The screams from earlier began again, whipping through the open archway and flinging open the doors of each home. Wind picked up, the ash from the fire swirling into one big mote. I looked back down at Hazel, watching the magic crackle through her hands. She was muttering between her cries, casting a spell and using the blood from the body she laid upon to do so. “No!” My hand reached out, reaching for her. When the crack shot through the market, I was flung backwards, my head snapping against the wall. The world around me began to go fuzzy. A ringing shooting through my ears. As I looked towards Hazel, I could see it. The sigils she drew on the ground, the desperation in her eyes. “Hazel,” I whispered. But the world around me went dark. The last thing I saw was Hazel looking over her shoulder at me. <<if $hazelro == "true">> “I love you.”<</if>> [[Next|Victors]] “I’m going to get you out of here,” I told her as I stepped close. As if I could protect her from what she’d seen. If I could, I would have whisked it all away in a moment. Made her forget. This wasn’t her fault. It couldn’t possibly have been. “I- I don’t– Did I do this?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. “Are they dead? They can’t be dead. They–” Tears began to spill down her face. She went to her knees, crawling towards the nearest body. “Hazel, we need to go,” I told her. <<if $hazelro == "true">>The lost lives that surrounded us called out to me but I could only think of her. I couldn’t let her fall for this. No matter if her own hands ended these lives, it wasn’t her. It couldn’t have possibly been her. <</if>> “We can figure all of this out later. But right now, we need to get out of here.” “I killed them,” she sobbed, bent over the body, blood staining her hands. “I killed them all.” Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her fingers curling against the ground. The alley began to tremble, the walls brightening with the same green poison that had coated them when I first arrived. “We don’t know how long we have until the Velvet Guard gets here,” I told her urgently. “We don’t know how long until that spell comes back over you.” Because she had been compelled. I knew it with certainty now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head resting on the body before her. “I’m so sorry.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>“Hazel, we have to go!” I urged her. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> “Hazel, honey, we will handle this. Together. But right now, we have to go. You need to take my hand and trust me.”<</if>> Beneath me, the ground cracked. The screams from earlier began again, whipping through the open archway and flinging open the doors of each home. Wind picked up, the ash from the fire swirling into one big mote. I looked back down at Hazel, watching the magic crackle through her hands. She was muttering between her cries, casting a spell and using the blood from the body she laid upon to do so. “No!” My hand reached out, reaching for her. When the crack shot through the market, I was flung backwards, my head snapping against the wall. The world around me began to go fuzzy. A ringing shooting through my ears. As I looked towards Hazel, I could see it. The sigils she drew on the ground, the desperation in her eyes. “Hazel,” I whispered. But the world around me went dark. The last thing I saw was Hazel looking over her shoulder at me. <<if $hazelro == "true">> “I love you.”<</if>> [[Next|Victors]] “What happened?” I asked, stepping forward. “What is happening to you?” There was only Hazel, now. Not the glazed look that had been present in her eyes before. She was looking at the components with ashen dread. The bodies with confusion and growing terror. “I- I don’t– Did I do this?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. “Are they dead? They can’t be dead. They–” Tears began to spill down her face. She went to her knees, crawling towards the nearest body. “Hazel, we need to go,” I told her. <<if $hazelro == "true">>The lost lives that surrounded us called out to me but I could only think of her. I couldn’t let her fall for this. No matter if her own hands ended these lives, it wasn’t her. It couldn’t have possibly been her. <</if>> “We can figure all of this out later. But right now, we need to get out of here.” “I killed them,” she sobbed, bent over the body, blood staining her hands. “I killed them all.” Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her fingers curling against the ground. The alley began to tremble, the walls brightening with the same green poison that had coated them when I first arrived. “We don’t know how long we have until the Velvet Guard gets here,” I told her urgently. “We don’t know how long until that spell comes back over you.” Because she had been compelled. I knew it with certainty now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head resting on the body before her. “I’m so sorry.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>“Hazel, we have to go!” I urged her. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> “Hazel, honey, we will handle this. Together. But right now, we have to go. You need to take my hand and trust me.”<</if>> Beneath me, the ground cracked. The screams from earlier began again, whipping through the open archway and flinging open the doors of each home. Wind picked up, the ash from the fire swirling into one big mote. I looked back down at Hazel, watching the magic crackle through her hands. She was muttering between her cries, casting a spell and using the blood from the body she laid upon to do so. “No!” My hand reached out, reaching for her. When the crack shot through the market, I was flung backwards, my head snapping against the wall. The world around me began to go fuzzy. A ringing shooting through my ears. As I looked towards Hazel, I could see it. The sigils she drew on the ground, the desperation in her eyes. “Hazel,” I whispered. But the world around me went dark. The last thing I saw was Hazel looking over her shoulder at me. <<if $hazelro == "true">> “I love you.”<</if>> [[Next|Victors]] The sound of bubbles was the first thing I registered. It was something soft and almost melodic, lulling me in a state of repose outside time. Blurrily, I opened my eyes, seeing little orbs rise and pop in a vat of green liquid. I stared at it, my thoughts only on what was contained inside the canister next to my head. It wasn’t until the smell of antiseptic hit me that I began to stir. My body was sore. There was something about it that felt bruised from the inside out, like the entirety of my insides had been rearranged. Blinking, I glanced around the room. Soft lighting spilled from scarf covered lamps while little electric candles were placed between stacks of books. The place was homey and cluttered but it still smelled like a hospital. “You’re awake.” I rolled my head to the right, spying a bed within arms reach. At first, I couldn’t make out just what was going on. The bed itself was metal and propped up slightly to allow its occupant to sit up right. There was a black comforter tossed over it but I could see the sterile white sheets shining from beneath. “Turner?” I croaked. He had a table set over his lap and a dozen little clock parts in front of him to fiddle with. “Hey,” he said, eyes ticking back to his gears. “What’s happening?” Turner shrugged. “Don’t know. Herald found you. Said there were a lot of dead bodies. You were still breathing though so he brought you here. Had to go back out to collect everyone else.” I laid silent on the bed for a moment, listening to the sound of Turners fiddling. The jagged metal clicked against each other in an almost musical way. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> So different than the clashing of the swords. The way the bodies squelched as the blades knocked through them. The slow dying of each man and woman as they suffered wounds they didn’t know if they could come back from.<</if>> “There were a lot of bodies,” Turner continued. I didn’t think I had ever heard him volunteer to continue a conversation. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> I was trying not to think of the amount of bodies that had littered the market. Or the way Hazel had screamed in agony over them. <</if>> “Herald’s going to be working all night.” The cog slipped from his fingers and he frowned. Obviously, Herald’s absence was cause for agitation. “I need to get back out there,” I said. Though my body didn’t want to move. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> There was a bandage around my torso. Holding my insides in. I could still feel the way Gabriel’s sword pierced me.<</if>> Turner ticked his gaze towards me, snorting. “You’re not going anywhere. Even if you could get up, market is on lock down.” I felt cold fear swell in my gut. “Why?” “You know why.” <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Gabriel. The massacre of the Velvet Guard. The walls had reshaped in a way that I realized was me trying to stop him. I wondered if each time they moved, it was my higher self trying to right a wrong. <<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">> Hazel. An entire village had been wiped out because of her. All those people dead. I couldn’t bring myself to say it, however. Admitting it outloud felt like a death sentence for her. <</if>> [[I really need to go back out there]] [[How bad is it?]] [[Do they know everything that happened?]] I ran after him without hesitation, fearing the worst. The words ‘he’s lost it’ were ringing in my head. I couldn’t help but worry that he was hurt. Sick. The madness had been lingering at his back for so long. Up ahead, an entire wall crumbled, water filling the streets as a dam broke. It splashed through, pouring down into the undercity and sweeping with it the street decorations and plunging us into the dark. “Shit. I–” but the man was cut off with a gasp. Something wet and pain filled. I could hear the sound of metal as it connected with bone and the bubbling death of someone that had been taken off guard. My heart stammered while my eyes were wide. I tried to search the dark, adjusting my vision to look out at the chaos that was running rampant. I caught sight of something flickering in the distance. An untouched candle perhaps, or one of the guards lanterns. But getting there was another story. With the ground being thin as ice, one wrong step would send me down to the depths below. “Where is Pen when I need $himher,” I muttered to myself. [[Fuck it. This was my market. I commanded it]] [[Stick near the walls]] [[Make a route to the lights]]“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” I protested. Too often I had fallen for such a thing. I wasn’t about to be led into another trap. “I don’t know what is going on,” the man shouted over the terror forming around us. “The market is reacting to him, though. Fighting him. I’ve never seen anything like it. Were you close to him? Could you– it doesn’t matter. We need help!” Up ahead, an entire wall crumbled, water filling the streets as a dam broke. It splashed through, pouring down into the undercity and sweeping with it the street decorations and plunging us into the dark. “I can’t see,” I called out to the man. “Shit. I–” but he was cut off with a gasp. Something wet and pain filled. I could hear the sound of metal as it connected with bone and the bubbling death of someone that had been taken off guard. My heart stammered while my eyes were wide. I tried to search the dark, adjusting my vision to look out at the chaos that was running rampant. I caught sight of something flickering in the distance. An untouched candle perhaps, or one of the guards lanterns. But getting there was another story. With the ground being thin as ice, one wrong step would send me down to the depths below. “Where is Pen when I need $himher,” I muttered to myself. [[Fuck it. This was my market. I commanded it]] [[Stick near the walls]] [[Make a route to the lights]] The world around me was descending into chaos. Every bit of it was falling into the abyss below, disappearing into the dark and to a place that I was no longer sure could be reached. I hoped Pen would find the souls that had been lost. I hoped that they were not lost forever. But more importantly, I knew that this needed to end. This was the market. My market. I commanded it. Holding out my hand, I curled my fist tight to my chest, willing every part of me to control the surroundings. To stop the walls from crumbling and everyone from dying. I wasn’t going to let another soul be lost. I snapped forward, pulled from right behind my belly button. The world blurred by me in a rush until I was standing in a completely different alleyway, surrounded by completely different problems. A sharp clang of metal echoed through the air, high pitched and piercing. My eyes snapped open, finding a sword embedded in the wall behind me. I turned, looking back towards the dark that I was fairly certain I had been in before. Now, I was surrounded by bodies. Velvet Guard lying in puddles of their own blood. “Warden, you’ve got to stop this! We can talk.” My gaze shot up. A dozen bodies laid between us, piled on top of each other like sandbags. But I could see Gabriel. His broad shoulders loomed in the dark as he stalked towards one of his guards as she was scrambling away. “You are unclean,” he whispered. “You will all be purged.” The woman shook her head, the slicked back braid thumping against the ground wetly as it was caked in her comrades blood. I watched as one of the bodies on the ground reached out, a faun that I vaguely remembered from the prison before. They reached out to grab Gabriel. Tried to stop him. But without looking, Gabriel raised his sword and speared it through the faun’s head. “As the darkness descends there is no light. There is no joy. Only the sinful. I know my purpose now. I know how the world ends.” [[Call out to Gabriel]] [[Run and try to knock your body into him]] [[Try to drop the floor from beneath him]] I ran towards one of the walls, placing my hand on it. There was a small ledge that had run along the intact portions of the alleyway. I kept on them, stepping cautiously towards the sound of the commotion. It was in the district beyond. Through a small winding maze of disappearing roads and cut off screams. I hopped across one of the gaps, my nails bending back as I used the wall for leverage. I nearly fell into the abyss beyond, watching as a woman who had been clinging to a crate nearby lost her battle. The wood snapped, and she fell. She didn’t scream. She only looked at me in complete loss. “Keep going,” I muttered to myself. “Just keep going.” When I reached the alley opening, the ground became solid again. A sharp clang of metal echoed through the air, high pitched and piercing. My eyes snapped open, finding a sword embedded in the wall behind me. I turned, looking back towards the dark that I was fairly certain I had been in before. Now, I was surrounded by bodies. Velvet Guard lying in puddles of their own blood. “Warden, you’ve got to stop this! We can talk.” My gaze shot up. A dozen bodies laid between us, piled on top of each other like sandbags. But I could see Gabriel. His broad shoulders loomed in the dark as he stalked towards one of his guards as she was scrambling away. “You are unclean,” he whispered. “You will all be purged.” The woman shook her head, the slicked back braid thumping against the ground wetly as it was caked in her comrades blood. I watched as one of the bodies on the ground reached out, a faun that I vaguely remembered from the prison before. They reached out to grab Gabriel. Tried to stop him. But without looking, Gabriel raised his sword and speared it through the faun’s head. “As the darkness descends there is no light. There is no joy. Only the sinful. I know my purpose now. I know how the world ends.” [[Call out to Gabriel]] [[Run and try to knock your body into him]] [[Try to drop the floor from beneath him]] I had done it before with the graveyard. I had done it before with Nebula. Each time had been without thought and that’s all I needed to do now. Closing my eyes, I tried to clear my head. There was nothing around me. No fear. No panic. Just a a world that needed tending and a destination on my horizon. When the ground was ripped out from under me I swallowed my scream. Trust. I had to trust that this was the way. That I was moving towards Gabriel. Making a shortcut. A sharp clang of metal echoed through the air, high pitched and piercing. My eyes snapped open, finding a sword embedded in the wall behind me. I turned, looking back towards the dark that I was fairly certain I had been in before. Now, I was surrounded by bodies. Velvet Guard lying in puddles of their own blood. “Warden, you’ve got to stop this! We can talk.” My gaze shot up. A dozen bodies laid between us, piled on top of each other like sandbags. But I could see Gabriel. His broad shoulders loomed in the dark as he stalked towards one of his guards as she was scrambling away. “You are unclean,” he whispered. “You will all be purged.” The woman shook her head, the slicked back braid thumping against the ground wetly as it was caked in her comrades blood. I watched as one of the bodies on the ground reached out, a faun that I vaguely remembered from the prison before. They reached out to grab Gabriel. Tried to stop him. But without looking, Gabriel raised his sword and speared it through the faun’s head. “As the darkness descends there is no light. There is no joy. Only the sinful. I know my purpose now. I know how the world ends.” [[Call out to Gabriel]] [[Run and try to knock your body into him]] [[Try to drop the floor from beneath him]]“Gabriel,” I shouted. “Stop! This isn’t you!” He didn’t hear me. Or he chose not to. The sound of the floor crumbling started with a low rumble before rolling forward. I watched the ground crack and Gabriel stumble, his sword falling from his hand. I only felt a momentary flare of triumph as I saw the ground give way beneath him. The jubilation I felt soured as the guard, the one I was trying to save, fell with him as well. Her scream was sharp as it pierced the air, and faded far too quickly. When I could hear it no longer, I felt my body still in disbelief. I willed her to come back up. To be fine from the fall. A dark and cracked hand curled over the edge of the street though. It was shot through with pulsing veins of silver that flickered like a dying candle. Gabriel slowly pulled himself up from the depths, eyes glowing, dull and metallic as he locked onto me. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> His lips curled back with a snarl. “You taunt me,” he said. “You stand here taunting me with the visage of the one I loved. Is this what you wanted? Is this the man you so desperately craved?” “Gabriel, what are you even–” “Silence!” he roared. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>His lips curled back with a snarl. “You taunt me,” he said. “You stand here taunting me with the visage of the one I loved. Is this what you wanted? Is this the man you so desperately craved?” “Gabriel, we need to get to Bella. Go and talk to her. If you do you’ll realize that–” “Silence!” he roared. A sickly glow began to trickle down his cheeks and jaw, falling like tears and disappearing with a wet hiss. “You think Belladonna will convince me? The whore of the market?”<</if>> I could hear whimpering from somewhere in the dark and knew that there were children now trying to hide. “You will listen to me,” he snarled. “For once, you will heed my word.” he pulled himself up from the pit, standing at full height. His uniform was torn, ripped into tatters across his chest and stomach. His scabbard was gone and his sword hung limply in his bloody hand. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he laughed lowly. “Did you think it would help? Did you think that I would suddenly believe you to be mine?” “I am me, Gabriel. Me. But this is certainly not you.” He raised his sword, his face blank as he stared at me. “I wish it wasn’t me either.” The blade was brought down hard and fast and sparked against the ground as I jumped out of the way. I barely had time to think before he was advancing towards me again, swinging the sword back and forth. It slashed in front of my face as he barrelled towards me, his eyes fever bright with determination. For a moment, I felt safe. I was incorporeal to everyone but Malcolm. Surely this sword wasn’t going to be the end of me. But it nicked me. Right across the belly. I felt the sting of it and the hot pounce of blood. We both looked down at the red that now stained my tunic. Gabriel’s eyes were wide as he locked on the sluggish spread of crimson. If he could stab me, if I bled, I wasn't the spirit he claimed me to be. [[You have been wrong, Gabriel. Stop this]] [[You are going to kill me if you don’t stop]] [[You’re supposed to be my protector]] I ran at him. Blood already soaked his sword. I couldn’t let this go any further. My feet carried me across the crumbling floor and it was at the last moment that I remembered that I wasn’t corporeal. I hadn’t been able to touch him since I got back. I pressed myself further then, knowing that I would pass right through him. But maybe it would shock him. When I reached him, however, my body slammed into him. I felt the pain shoot up my shoulder, jarring my bones. The two of us fell to the side, slamming harshly into the ground. Gabriel was on his feet in a blur though, his limbs disentangled with mine. He looked down at me with wide eyes. Behind us, the thunderous crack sounded the beginning of this street falling apart too. The sound of the floor crumbling started with a low rumble before rolling forward. I watched the ground crack and Gabriel stumble, his sword falling from his hand. I only felt a momentary flare of triumph as I saw the ground give way beneath him. The jubilation I felt soured as the guard, the one I was trying to save, fell with him as well. Her scream was sharp as it pierced the air, and faded far too quickly. When I could hear it no longer, I felt my body still in disbelief. I willed her to come back up. To be fine from the fall. A dark and cracked hand curled over the edge of the street though. It was shot through with pulsing veins of silver that flickered like a dying candle. Gabriel slowly pulled himself up from the depths, eyes glowing, dull and metallic as he locked onto me. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> His lips curled back with a snarl. “You taunt me,” he said. “You stand here taunting me with the visage of the one I loved. Is this what you wanted? Is this the man you so desperately craved?” “Gabriel, what are you even–” “Silence!” he roared. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>His lips curled back with a snarl. “You taunt me,” he said. “You stand here taunting me with the visage of the one I loved. Is this what you wanted? Is this the man you so desperately craved?” “Gabriel, we need to get to Bella. Go and talk to her. If you do you’ll realize that–” “Silence!” he roared. A sickly glow began to trickle down his cheeks and jaw, falling like tears and disappearing with a wet hiss. “You think Belladonna will convince me? The whore of the market?”<</if>> I could hear whimpering from somewhere in the dark and knew that there were children now trying to hide. “You will listen to me,” he snarled. “For once, you will heed my word.” he pulled himself up from the pit, standing at full height. His uniform was torn, ripped into tatters across his chest and stomach. His scabbard was gone and his sword hung limply in his bloody hand. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he laughed lowly. “Did you think it would help? Did you think that I would suddenly believe you to be mine?” “I am me, Gabriel. Me. But this is certainly not you.” He raised his sword, his face blank as he stared at me. “I wish it wasn’t me either.” The blade was brought down hard and fast and sparked against the ground as I jumped out of the way. I barely had time to think before he was advancing towards me again, swinging the sword back and forth. It slashed in front of my face as he barrelled towards me, his eyes fever bright with determination. For a moment, I felt safe. I was incorporeal to everyone but Malcolm. Surely this sword wasn’t going to be the end of me. But it nicked me. Right across the belly. I felt the sting of it and the hot pounce of blood. We both looked down at the red that now stained my tunic. Gabriel’s eyes were wide as he locked on the sluggish spread of crimson. If he could stab me, if I bled, I wasn't the spirit he claimed me to be. [[You have been wrong, Gabriel. Stop this]] [[You are going to kill me if you don’t stop]] [[You’re supposed to be my protector]] I focused on the floor right beneath Gabriel’s feet. The cobblestones were already crumbling not far from where he stepped. If I could just will them to weaken a bit further, then I could drop him down below. I had to do something to jar him out of the crazed look that was overtaking his face. The sound of the floor crumbling started with a low rumble before rolling forward. I watched the ground crack and Gabriel stumble, his sword falling from his hand. I only felt a momentary flare of triumph as I saw the ground give way beneath him. The jubilation I felt soured as the guard, the one I was trying to save, fell with him as well. Her scream was sharp as it pierced the air, and faded far too quickly. When I could hear it no longer, I felt my body still in disbelief. I willed her to come back up. To be fine from the fall. A dark and cracked hand curled over the edge of the street though. It was shot through with pulsing veins of silver that flickered like a dying candle. Gabriel slowly pulled himself up from the depths, eyes glowing, dull and metallic as he locked onto me. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> His lips curled back with a snarl. “You taunt me,” he said. “You stand here taunting me with the visage of the one I loved. Is this what you wanted? Is this the man you so desperately craved?” “Gabriel, what are you even–” “Silence!” he roared. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>His lips curled back with a snarl. “You taunt me,” he said. “You stand here taunting me with the visage of the one I loved. Is this what you wanted? Is this the man you so desperately craved?” “Gabriel, we need to get to Bella. Go and talk to her. If you do you’ll realize that–” “Silence!” he roared. A sickly glow began to trickle down his cheeks and jaw, falling like tears and disappearing with a wet hiss. “You think Belladonna will convince me? The whore of the market?”<</if>> I could hear whimpering from somewhere in the dark and knew that there were children now trying to hide. “You will listen to me,” he snarled. “For once, you will heed my word.” he pulled himself up from the pit, standing at full height. His uniform was torn, ripped into tatters across his chest and stomach. His scabbard was gone and his sword hung limply in his bloody hand. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he laughed lowly. “Did you think it would help? Did you think that I would suddenly believe you to be mine?” “I am me, Gabriel. Me. But this is certainly not you.” He raised his sword, his face blank as he stared at me. “I wish it wasn’t me either.” The blade was brought down hard and fast and sparked against the ground as I jumped out of the way. I barely had time to think before he was advancing towards me again, swinging the sword back and forth. It slashed in front of my face as he barrelled towards me, his eyes fever bright with determination. For a moment, I felt safe. I was incorporeal to everyone but Malcolm. Surely this sword wasn’t going to be the end of me. But it nicked me. Right across the belly. I felt the sting of it and the hot pounce of blood. We both looked down at the red that now stained my tunic. Gabriel’s eyes were wide as he locked on the sluggish spread of crimson. If he could stab me, if I bled, I wasn't the spirit he claimed me to be. [[You have been wrong, Gabriel. Stop this]] [[You are going to kill me if you don’t stop]] [[You’re supposed to be my protector]]“You have been wrong before, Gabriel. Stop this.” How many times had we talked together? Spoke of the things he wished he could erase. Redo. He had the capacity to admit that he was wrong but he just wouldn’t. “I am protecting the market,” he hissed. “I am doing what everyone else will not do.” “By killing people?” “The Velvet Guard is corrupt,” he said. “I can see it now. I couldn’t before. I was too blinded. But it came to me today. As I looked out over the men and women who have vowed to serve justice, I couldn’t help but see how corrupt they all were.” He began walking around the bodies, placing the tip of his sword on individuals cheeks. “Kairellia. Performing forbidden death magic with young children and stealing years from their lives. Noiria. Running a private trade on magic items that had been confiscated. Styson. Looking the other way and not arresting the wrong doers of the market. Tierlin. Taking monetary gifts from the Barons to give them special privileges. They are corrupt. All of them. So why should they live when so many have fallen due to their follies.” [[Yes, the guard is messed up. But you can’t play god]] [[There are other ways to deal with this]] [[And what about you?|Chapter Four And what about you?]]“Gabriel,” I gasped. “You are going to kill me. If you continue this way you are going to kill the market.” “I am protecting the market,” he hissed. “I am doing what everyone else will not do.” “By killing people?” “The Velvet Guard is corrupt,” he said. “I can see it now. I couldn’t before. I was too blinded. But it came to me today. As I looked out over the men and women who have vowed to serve justice, I couldn’t help but see how corrupt they all were.” He began walking around the bodies, placing the tip of his sword on individuals cheeks. “Kairellia. Performing forbidden death magic with young children and stealing years from their lives. Noiria. Running a private trade on magic items that had been confiscated. Styson. Looking the other way and not arresting the wrong doers of the market. Tierlin. Taking monetary gifts from the Barons to give them special privileges. They are corrupt. All of them. So why should they live when so many have fallen due to their follies.” [[Yes, the guard is messed up. But you can’t play god]] [[There are other ways to deal with this]] [[And what about you?|Chapter Four And what about you?]]“You’re supposed to be my protector,” I told him. “Remember that? The Warden of the Night Market. I put you in place to help me. What are you doing, Gabriel? This is not like you. This,” I gestured around us to the blood and the carnage. “This serves no one.” “I am protecting the market,” he hissed. “I am doing what everyone else will not do.” “By killing people?” “The Velvet Guard is corrupt,” he said. “I can see it now. I couldn’t before. I was too blinded. But it came to me today. As I looked out over the men and women who have vowed to serve justice, I couldn’t help but see how corrupt they all were.” He began walking around the bodies, placing the tip of his sword on individuals cheeks. “Kairellia. Performing forbidden death magic with young children and stealing years from their lives. Noiria. Running a private trade on magic items that had been confiscated. Styson. Looking the other way and not arresting the wrong doers of the market. Tierlin. Taking monetary gifts from the Barons to give them special privileges. They are corrupt. All of them. So why should they live when so many have fallen due to their follies.” [[Yes, the guard is messed up. But you can’t play god]] [[There are other ways to deal with this]] [[And what about you?|Chapter Four And what about you?]]“The guard is messed up. No one can dispute that. More than anyone I have been on the side that the guard needs to change. But this? This is not how to do it. You do not get to play god and clean house with blood on your hands.” “I don’t?” he laughed. “Your opinion on this means nothing. I, however, am the Warden.” “You say that as if it is a badge to hide behind. Put your sword down, Gabriel. We can solve this. Together. Don’t you want to do this with someone again? To not be so alone?” The loneliness that he bore was like an aching weight across his shoulders. I could see it, and it killed me. He took another step forward, sword raised and ready. “I wish you were here,” he whispered. “I so desperately wish you were $name. ?they would know what to do.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">>“I am $name,” I practically yelled. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “I am $name,” I practically yelled. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you. Gabriel, please. Just let Bella and I help you.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “What are you even talking about? I am here? Why are you–?”<</if>> “It doesn’t matter. Not now,” he said, shaking his head resolutely. “It will all be over soon. And perhaps the Knowing will bless me with one last sight of you.” And with that, he lunged. [[Take up the sword of one of the fallen]] [[Dodge out of the way]] [[Let him hit you]]“There are other ways to deal with this,” I urged. “Come with me. Just come with me and we’ll talk. Figure everything out together.” “And what could you possibly do to help me,” he sneered. “You. The figment. The nothing.” I jerked back. The Nothing? No. That wasn’t me. I was the Night Market. I was //the Night Market//. “I’m not letting you do this.” I tried to remain calm. “You are playing god here. You do not get to decide what belongs in this world and what does not. It is time that you step down, Gabriel. Let others be a voice of reason. I think you are sick and I think you need sleep. Please,” I held out my hand to him. “You know me. I’m not doing this to trick you.” "And what is the first thing a demon would say to decieve its prey," he sneered. “So what? You’re going to go through the entire market and kill all those you deem sinful before offing yourself? Do you hear what you are saying, Gabriel? You cannot do this.” “If not I, then who?” He took another step forward, sword raised and ready. “I wish you were here,” he whispered. “I so desperately wish you were $name. ?they would know what to do.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">>“I am $name,” I practically yelled. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “I am $name,” I practically yelled. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you. Gabriel, please. Just let Bella and I help you.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “What are you even talking about? I am here? Why are you–?”<</if>> “It doesn’t matter. Not now,” he said, shaking his head resolutely. “It will all be over soon. And perhaps the Knowing will bless me with one last sight of you.” And with that, he lunged. [[Take up the sword of one of the fallen]] [[Dodge out of the way]] [[Let him hit you]]“And what about you? Do you simply discredit yourself from these misgivings? The things you have done during your career that have been questionable?” I needed him to think. To not view everything so cut and dry. Love for the guard was not something I held but it was something Gabriel believed in above all else. I had to make him see reason. Then we could deal with whatever it was he saw as grounds for extermination. “I have erred,” he said. “I understand that more than anyone.” “Yet they all deserve to die and you do not?” The bitterness that ebbed from him was full of remorse. He didn’t try to hide it. “I have seen what I have done. I have felt it. And when I am done here, I will be forced to meet my maker.” “So what? You’re going to go through the entire market and kill all those you deem sinful before offing yourself? Do you hear what you are saying, Gabriel? You cannot do this.” “If not I, then who?” He took another step forward, sword raised and ready. “I wish you were here,” he whispered. “I so desperately wish you were $name. ?they would know what to do.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">>“I am $name,” I practically yelled. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you.” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “I am $name,” I practically yelled. “I don’t know how else to prove it to you. Gabriel, please. Just let Bella and I help you.” <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “What are you even talking about? I am here? Why are you–?”<</if>> “It doesn’t matter. Not now,” he said, shaking his head resolutely. “It will all be over soon. And perhaps the Knowing will bless me with one last sight of you.” And with that, he lunged. [[Take up the sword of one of the fallen]] [[Dodge out of the way]] [[Let him hit you]] I took up the sword of one of the fallen guards. It felt bulky and unbalanced in my hand. As he swung his sword at me I tried to hold my own up to block him. The force of it clanging against me sent me stumbling back. Gabriel was relentless. He advanced towards me with an enraged look in his eyes. Sweat poured from his brow as he slashed the sword through the air, narrowly missing me each time. When he stumbled over one of the bodies littering the streets, I tried to take the opportunity to hit him. Incapacitate him somehow. He reached up and sliced the blade against my stomach, the wet sticky heat of blood staining my tunic. It mingled with the dried wound from before and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered how many times he would have to slice me open before he realized he was wrong. As he came at me again, I jumped out of the way. It would have connected if it was not for the ground beneath my feet. It crumbled, whisking me down into the dark. I looked up, seeing Gabriel standing there, the toes of his boot dangerously tipping over the edge. I knew at that moment that he would have killed me. He would have done more than slash a line against my stomach. And now, the alternative was to fall into nothing. I kept my eyes locked with his, however, until I blacked out. [[Next|Victors]] I dodged out of the way, the blade slashing against my middle. Blood was staining the thin material of my shirt. A sign of life. Gabriel swung again. Advancing towards me relentlessly, sweat pouring from his brow as he slashed the sword through the air, narrowly missing me each time. “Gabriel, stop,” I implored. “This isn’t you!” “I will not stop,” he said. “Not until the world is rid of filth. I am loyal. I am unmovable. I will not falter.” The blade thrust towards me. It would have connected if it was not for the ground beneath my feet. It crumbled, whisking me down into the dark. I looked up, seeing Gabriel standing there, the toes of his boot dangerously tipping over the edge. I knew at that moment that he would have killed me. He would have done more than slash a line against my stomach. And now, the alternative was to fall into nothing. I kept my eyes locked with his, however, until I blacked out. [[Next|Victors]] I didn’t move. I tried not to flinch though I wasn’t sure if I was successful with that. But I did let the sword slice through me. The hilt fell against my stomach with a sickening ‘thud’. Carving a neat line between my ribs. I could feel a cold wetness in my body as my skin began to form around the sword again. But I didn’t turn my eyes away. A gamut of emotion started to cross over Gabriel's face. It started at first with triumph. He had succeeded. Bested me in a fight. Then, remorse. A death was still hard for him, no matter how many times he had done it. Finally, a strange sort of horror. Because whatever he believed, whatever he had convinced himself of, it was hard to keep that conviction when mine was the face staring back at him. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> The face of the person he had loved and lost. The one he had grieved over. Back from the dead, only to be pushed towards death once more.<</if>> “Aw, come now. Do we have to do this?” I heard Pen’s voice right in my ear. “You didn’t need to let him.” I opened my mouth to respond, wishing to tell Pen that I did. I was desperate for Gabriel to understand and I could see no other way. But my words weren’t coming to me. Instead, the pain did. It ricochetted up my spine as I cried out in pain. Gabriel’s eyes went wide as he pulled the sword from me. I fell to the ground in a heap. “$name?” His voice was shaky. Uncertain. Filled with hope that was soon torn apart as he realized his sins. “By the Knowing. $name?” My head was in Pen’s lap now. I knew Gabriel couldn’t see $himher. “This is ridiculous. Sure you want to still be down here, playing the role of heart? I really hate to see this.” There was something locked behind Pen’s words but I couldn’t really focus on them right now. Everything was starting to go hazy around the edges. My body was yanked to the side as Gabriel cradled me against his chest. “No,” he whispered. “No no no. This isn’t you. You can’t be real. You are a figment. A demon of temptation. You were sent to thwart me off my path,” he cried. I could feel his tears. They fell down upon my cheeks like silver drops of rain. [[Look towards Pen]] <<if $gabrielro == "true">> [[Cup his cheek]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Cup his cheek]]<</if>> “What do I do?” I asked Pen, my lips feeling numb. I wasn’t sure if Gabriel heard me. I didn’t know if I cared. While Gabriel held me in his arms, Pen looked down at me. An angel of death, eyes fathomless and full of eternity. “You rest,” Pen said simply. “You just close your eyes and rest now, old friend.” I sucked in a breath, feeling my chest rattle. “I’m scared.” Pen reached forward, cupping my cheek. “You always are.” There was such sadness in $hisher eyes. Had it been there before? “$name,” Gabriel’s voice came through. “$name, you must hold on.” But he was distant. Cold. Pen’s hand was warm. “I’ll take care of you,” $heshe whispered. I slipped into the dark with $hisher voice in my ears. [[Next|Victors]] I gathered my strength as I reached for him with a dirty hand. I could see bits of the market street beneath my fingernails. But I was weak. The world was fading completely. Ironic that I was solid in his arms now. That I was suddenly here with him. There was a sigh from Pen as $heshe lifted my hand to cup Gabriel’s cheek. With $hisher fingers entwined with mine, $heshe made sure that I caught his tears in my palm. I couldn’t look at him the last time the light was taken from me. But I could now. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, rocking me back and forth. “Please, don’t go. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I can be better.” The bodies were cooling around us among his cries. Dead eyes stared into the void as one by one, spirits rose, weeping at the sight of their demise. I wondered if Pen would have enough strength to reap us all. “Please, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it,” Gabriel begged. Though, I didn’t think he was speaking to me. Maybe he was praying to the Knowing. Maybe he was talking to Pen. I couldn’t tell. The world was getting darker and darker. “Rest, old friend,” Pen murmured. “You’ll feel better when you get up.” When I closed my eyes, I could still hear Gabriel weeping. But I knew I was safe in Pen’s care. [[Next|Victors]] “I need to get back out there,” I said. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>Gabriel couldn’t be alone. Not now. I broke through to him. For a single moment I had been able to call forward that man that I knew. I couldn’t let him slip away. <<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">> Hazel couldn’t be alone. Knowing what she did. There was no telling what she would do. I had to stop her from going back to her mother. I was almost certain that Lucinda was the root of it all.<</if>> “You’re going to have to get Victor and Marie’s permission for that and I doubt they’re going to be giving it.” “You don’t understand–” “Oh fuck off,” Turner said. “You think I want to be stuck in this bed either? You think I like Herald going out there and collecting bodies. Stay put, $name. Stay put until you figure out what is actually going on with you instead of heading out to be a damn hero.” I took a good look at the man then. The hospital bed looked rumpled meaning he had been in it for quite a while. There were two IV’s hooked up to his arm, shiny wires that draped over the side of the bed and hooked up to stacks of beeping machinery that looked alien to me. I hadn’t realized how incredibly pale Turner had been before. Not until now did the pallor of his skin seem so damningly gray and sickly. “Why are you here?” I asked. The last I had seen Turner, he had been led off from Artisan Alley by Herald. He had looked tense and scared and was clinging to Herald’s soothing tone. “None of your fucking business,” he bristled. [[There’s the Turner I know and love]] [[Are you sick?]] “How bad is it out there?” I asked. “Don’t know. Guessin’ pretty bad. Herald didn’t look too happy. And if there’s a lot of bodies then it can’t be anything fuckin’ good.” No, it wasn’t. Dozens had died today without reason. I kept seeing them. Their wide open stares. It was my reality. It wasn’t Turner’s however. And I felt slightly grateful for that. “I told him not to go back out there,” Turner was muttering. “His limbs are gonna start fallin’ off with the strain, and he gets in a mood when it happens.” Part of me felt bad for Herald. The other part of me was touched by Turner’s obvious concern. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. When he gets back he can get some sleep.” “Try tellin’ him that. ‘I don’t need sleep, Turner’. Bullshit you don’t you stupidly tall man. Probably need more of it since the air’s thinner up there.” “Does he even breathe?” “I don’t fuckin’ know,” he snapped. Then, he hunkered down over his clock parts. “No, he doesn’t,” he corrected. “Pretends to because it makes him feel more normal. Whatever normal is.” I took a good look at the man then. The hospital bed looked rumpled meaning he had been in it for quite a while. There were two IV’s hooked up to his arm, shiny wires that draped over the side of the bed and hooked up to stacks of beeping machinery that looked alien to me. I hadn’t realized how incredibly pale Turner had been before. Not until now did the pallor of his skin seem so damningly gray and sickly. “Why are you here?” I asked. The last I had seen Turner, he had been led off from Artisan Alley by Herald. He had looked tense and scared and was clinging to Herald’s soothing tone. “None of your fucking business,” he bristled. [[There’s the Turner I know and love]] [[Are you sick?]] “Do they know everything that happened out there?” I asked him. “Don’t know and don't care. Just want Herald to get some damn sleep. He’s been pushing himself too hard. Limbs are gonna start fallin’ off with the strain, and he gets in a mood when it happens.” “Oh,” I said, not knowing how else to even respond to that. “I’ve told him time and time again that it’s fine. I’ll stitch him back up. But he insists on doing shit on his own and then he gets all embarrassed and goes and hides.” Part of me felt bad for Herald. The other part of me was touched by Turner’s obvious concern. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. When he gets back he can get some sleep.” “Try tellin’ him that. ‘I don’t need sleep, Turner’. Bullshit you don’t you stupidly tall man. Probably need more of it since the air’s thinner up there.” “Does he even breathe?” “I don’t fuckin’ know,” he snapped. Then, he hunkered down over his clock parts. “No, he doesn’t,” he corrected. “Pretends to because it makes him feel more normal. Whatever normal is.” I took a good look at the man then. The hospital bed looked rumpled meaning he had been in it for quite a while. There were two IV’s hooked up to his arm, shiny wires that draped over the side of the bed and hooked up to stacks of beeping machinery that looked alien to me. I hadn’t realized how incredibly pale Turner had been before. Not until now did the pallor of his skin seem so damningly gray and sickly. “Why are you here?” I asked. The last I had seen Turner, he had been led off from Artisan Alley by Herald. He had looked tense and scared and was clinging to Herald’s soothing tone. “None of your fucking business,” he bristled. [[There’s the Turner I know and love]] [[Are you sick?]] “There’s the Turner I know and love. I was worried. There wasn’t enough anger and ‘fucks’ in your tone.” He lifted a finger to flip me off, his lip curling in a sneer. The more I got to know Turner, the less intimidating that was. It was starting to become endearing. “Why are you hooked up to an I.V?” I asked. He didn’t respond. I remembered now the way he had been rubbing his chest. I had caught him before Nebula massaging the area right over his heart. I hadn’t thought anything of it then. “Are you going to be okay?” “Do you care?” [[Of course I care]] [[A lot of people care]] [[You’re not used to having people concerned about you]]“Are you sick?” I asked, feeling concerned. “No, I’m not fuckin’ sick.” “Then why are you hooked up to an IV?” He squirmed a little, his attention laser focused on the bits of metal. He began fiddling with them. Taking out delicate little bronze tools to try and put them back together. Slowly, it was forming a clock. He was building one out of nothing. “It’s my heart,” he said after a prolonged moment. I noticed that he refused to look at me now. “I got a bad one and the other day I worked it too hard or something. I was in danger of needing to get a transplant again.” “Again?” He didn’t respond. I remembered now the way he had been rubbing his chest. I had caught him before Nebula massaging the area right over his heart. I hadn’t thought anything of it then. “Are you going to be okay?” “Do you care?” [[Of course I care]] [[A lot of people care]] [[You’re not used to having people concerned about you]]“Of course I care about you,” I told him. “Why wouldn’t I care about you? You’ve opened your home to me.” “//You// inserted yourself into my home,” he countered. “I didn’t welcome shit about you.” I ignored him. I was learning more and more with Turner that what he said was rarely what he meant. “I care about you, Turner.” “I don’t even know you.” “No, you don’t. But that still doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about you. Have empathy or compassion for you.” The clock began ticking in his hand. I could see it now. Completely finished with a raw back. It looked like it needed to be set in something. A piece he could sell if he was willing. Instead, he reached beneath his blanket and pulled out a box, setting the time piece inside with several other little clocks. Locking it, he put it back, before grabbing a bag and dumping out new contents. “A lot of work?” I asked, changing the subject for his sake. “Herald brought it all for me,” he murmured. “I do better if I can keep my hands busy.” “And busy hands you have!” The door banged open, revealed Victor. He was in his striped pajama bottoms and purple waist coat again. Behind him, a woman ducked through the door. She was almost as tall as Herald. “Young Turner, how are you feeling my boy?” “Fine,” he grumbled. “Good. Good good. Your readings tell me you are full of shit! But that is alright. Marie here is going to pump you full of some more vitamins. Might make you a tad bit sleepy.” Turner's eyes popped up in panic. “Is Herald going to be coming home soon? I want to be awake when he gets here.” Victor’s eyes softened a little. Maybe it was over the way Turner seemed to genuinely care about his son. “I’ll make sure to send him in when he gets here. You’re not going to be drugged. Just tired. He’ll be able to wake you.” “Make sure he fucking wakes me, Victor. Don’t let him pull his bullshit.” “Hush now,” Marie’s voice sounded. It was husky with a bit of an accent. “We don’t speak like that to the doctor.” “Oh, Marie. Don’t worry about the boy,” Victor cackled. “He’s practically my son in law.” And with that, he yanked closed the curtains between our beds. “Now, $name. I thought I told you to come back here so we could run some more tests. Make you corporeal.” [[Everything got busy]] [[I forgot]] [[To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you]]“A lot of people care about you,” I told him. “I can see it with the people you surround yourself with. Kimber. Sawyer. Iblis.” “Yeah, well, they’re family. They’re supposed to care.” “I can care too,” I told him gently. “I don’t even know you.” “No, you don’t. But that still doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about you. Have empathy or compassion for you.” The clock began ticking in his hand. I could see it now. Completely finished with a raw back. It looked like it needed to be set in something. A piece he could sell if he was willing. Instead, he reached beneath his blanket and pulled out a box, setting the time piece inside with several other little clocks. Locking it, he put it back, before grabbing a bag and dumping out new contents. “A lot of work?” I asked, changing the subject for his sake. “Herald brought it all for me,” he murmured. “I do better if I can keep my hands busy.” “And busy hands you have!” The door banged open, revealed Victor. He was in his striped pajama bottoms and purple waist coat again. Behind him, a woman ducked through the door. She was almost as tall as Herald. “Young Turner, how are you feeling my boy?” “Fine,” he grumbled. “Good. Good good. Your readings tell me you are full of shit! But that is alright. Marie here is going to pump you full of some more vitamins. Might make you a tad bit sleepy.” Turner's eyes popped up in panic. “Is Herald going to be coming home soon? I want to be awake when he gets here.” Victor’s eyes softened a little. Maybe it was over the way Turner seemed to genuinely care about his son. “I’ll make sure to send him in when he gets here. You’re not going to be drugged. Just tired. He’ll be able to wake you.” “Make sure he fucking wakes me, Victor. Don’t let him pull his bullshit.” “Hush now,” Marie’s voice sounded. It was husky with a bit of an accent. “We don’t speak like that to the doctor.” “Oh, Marie. Don’t worry about the boy,” Victor cackled. “He’s practically my son in law.” And with that, he yanked closed the curtains between our beds. “Now, $name. I thought I told you to come back here so we could run some more tests. Make you corporeal.” [[Everything got busy]] [[I forgot]] [[To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you]]“You’re not used to people being concerned about you, are you.” It was a deflection tactic. He was trying to make himself seem smaller and smaller and I couldn’t fathom why. I could see the frown on his face and the way he switched to his defenses almost immediately. “I don’t even know you.” “No, you don’t. But that still doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about you. Have empathy or compassion for you.” The clock began ticking in his hand. I could see it now. Completely finished with a raw back. It looked like it needed to be set in something. A piece he could sell if he was willing. Instead, he reached beneath his blanket and pulled out a box, setting the time piece inside with several other little clocks. Locking it, he put it back, before grabbing a bag and dumping out new contents. “A lot of work?” I asked, changing the subject for his sake. “Herald brought it all for me,” he murmured. “I do better if I can keep my hands busy.” “And busy hands you have!” The door banged open, revealed Victor. He was in his striped pajama bottoms and purple waist coat again. Behind him, a woman ducked through the door. She was almost as tall as Herald. “Young Turner, how are you feeling my boy?” “Fine,” he grumbled. “Good. Good good. Your readings tell me you are full of shit! But that is alright. Marie here is going to pump you full of some more vitamins. Might make you a tad bit sleepy.” Turner's eyes popped up in panic. “Is Herald going to be coming home soon? I want to be awake when he gets here.” Victor’s eyes softened a little. Maybe it was over the way Turner seemed to genuinely care about his son. “I’ll make sure to send him in when he gets here. You’re not going to be drugged. Just tired. He’ll be able to wake you.” “Make sure he fucking wakes me, Victor. Don’t let him pull his bullshit.” “Hush now,” Marie’s voice sounded. It was husky with a bit of an accent. “We don’t speak like that to the doctor.” “Oh, Marie. Don’t worry about the boy,” Victor cackled. “He’s practically my son in law.” And with that, he yanked closed the curtains between our beds. “Now, $name. I thought I told you to come back here so we could run some more tests. Make you corporeal.” [[Everything got busy]] [[I forgot]] [[To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you]]“Everything got busy,” I told him. From the moment that I had left this place for the first time, I had not had many moments to breathe. The last thing I had wanted was to go back to the doctors and be poked and prodded at. Victor’s laugh was loud and rambunctious, nodding along to what he assumed was a joke. “Well, let me tell you, I am glad my boy ran across you. Your treatment was almost worn out. You would have been having another dirt nap. And you’ve been stabbed.” He clucked his tongue at me. “Luckily that really wasn’t a big deal. I’ve yet to figure out if you even have organs.” I looked down, wondering if I was just empty inside. “But, I did need to start you on some mending formula. The kind of thing that will take care of any of that pesky internal bleeding. You look as if you have more color to your face. I’ve also hydrated you again and with your permission, I would like to take some more samples of your essence to figure out how to make you solid. Looks like you can do it some of the time?” “Yeah,” I confirmed. “Curious. Just so curious.” “Why do I feel so weak?” “My suspicion is that there was a lot of energy that has been used up. Learning your powers are you? Good for you! I am proud of you.” He hummed as he stuck a needle in my arm, sucking up some strange fluid that looked like stars. “How is your mental state? This is quite a lot and I don’t really need a construct of the market losing its marbles. Can’t have you running around naked and clucking like a chicken.” [[That sounds fun]] [[I didn’t realize that was what qualified as nuts]] [[I’m holding on]] [[I'm falling apart]]“I forgot,” I told him honestly. And now that I was faced with that fact, I couldn’t understand how I had done it again. How had I put the rest of the market before myself once more? Why had I not learned my lesson yet to be just a tad bit more selfish when it came to my own health and happiness? Victor’s laugh was loud and rambunctious, nodding along to what he assumed was a joke. “Well, let me tell you, I am glad my boy ran across you. Your treatment was almost worn out. You would have been having another dirt nap. And you’ve been stabbed.” He clucked his tongue at me. “Luckily that really wasn’t a big deal. I’ve yet to figure out if you even have organs.” I looked down, wondering if I was just empty inside. “But, I did need to start you on some mending formula. The kind of thing that will take care of any of that pesky internal bleeding. You look as if you have more color to your face. I’ve also hydrated you again and with your permission, I would like to take some more samples of your essence to figure out how to make you solid. Looks like you can do it some of the time?” “Yeah,” I confirmed. “Curious. Just so curious.” “Why do I feel so weak?” “My suspicion is that there was a lot of energy that has been used up. Learning your powers are you? Good for you! I am proud of you.” He hummed as he stuck a needle in my arm, sucking up some strange fluid that looked like stars. “How is your mental state? This is quite a lot and I don’t really need a construct of the market losing its marbles. Can’t have you running around naked and clucking like a chicken.” [[That sounds fun]] [[I didn’t realize that was what qualified as nuts]] [[I’m holding on]] [[I'm falling apart]]“I’m going to be incredibly honest here but I wasn’t sure if I could trust you. You are just the guy in his pajamas that seems to own a graveyard.” <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>Victor’s laugh was loud and rambunctious, nodding along to what he assumed was a joke. “Well, let me tell you, I am glad my boy ran across you. Your treatment was almost worn out. You would have been having another dirt nap. And you’ve been stabbed.” He clucked his tongue at me. “Luckily that really wasn’t a big deal. I’ve yet to figure out if you even have organs.” I looked down, wondering if I was just empty inside.<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">>Victor’s laugh was loud and rambunctious, nodding along to what he assumed was a joke. “Well, let me tell you, I am glad my boy ran across you. Your treatment was almost worn out. And it looks like you took a nasty blow to the head." His eyes lifted, looking at me from beneath wispy lashes. "Witches leave marks, you know. Might want to look and make sure you aren't cursed in the upcoming days." My fingers twitched as I looked down from myself. What remains of the days horrors would be marked across my body. <</if>> “But, I did need to start you on some mending formula. The kind of thing that will take care of any of that pesky internal bleeding. You look as if you have more color to your face. I’ve also hydrated you again and with your permission, I would like to take some more samples of your essence to figure out how to make you solid. Looks like you can do it some of the time?” “Yeah,” I confirmed. “Curious. Just so curious.” “Why do I feel so weak?” “My suspicion is that there was a lot of energy that has been used up. Learning your powers are you? Good for you! I am proud of you.” He hummed as he stuck a needle in my arm, sucking up some strange fluid that looked like stars. “How is your mental state? This is quite a lot and I don’t really need a construct of the market losing its marbles. Can’t have you running around naked and clucking like a chicken.” [[That sounds fun]] [[I didn’t realize that was what qualified as nuts]] [[I’m holding on]] [[I'm falling apart]]“That actually sounds like fun,” I told him. A break in the pattern. Sawyer would probably join me. I sat back in the bed as the doctor worked. I felt tired. My body was floating back and forth and didn’t feel attached to where it should have been. The grave no longer called for me, but I didn’t feel present. Like I was floating somewhere else. I needed to call for Pen. Ask $himher truly what happened. But I couldn’t even think of $hisher name without feeling a block of some sort. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Hadn't $heshe been the one to keep me alive? Not reaping me despite the rules of $hisher job.<</if>> “Alright, you seem stable,” Victor said to my surprise. “You do have some friends upstairs. Would you like to see them?” “Who are they?” “Some very persistent men are pacing my front room and wearing a hole in the rug.” He patted my shoulder. “How about I go get them? Because I’m not sure they are going to wait much longer before they storm the castle.” When Victor disappeared, I listened for Turner. I could hear some jostling from behind the curtain as Marie helped get him more comfortable. “You think Herald’s okay?” Turner was whispering. “He didn’t come down to take his formaldehyde unit. He was too concerned about me. He shouldn’t do that.” I heard an irritated sigh and a click of the tongue. “That is a conversation to have with him, then. Not me.” “He won’t listen, Marie.” “Sounds like you two are made for each other then. Stubborn as a mule you are. Didn’t we tell you to stay calm? Take it easy.” Silence. “That’s what I thought.” I saw the shadows of Turner being tucked in as Marie straightened. “Get some sleep, Turner.” As she came around the curtain, she took one look at me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>“They aren’t going to tell you. But I think it’s important that you know. More happened today than just what took place in that village with your friend. The guard was slaughtered today.” My eyes went wide. “What?” Marie, for her part, was unblinking. “Not all of them. But a good portion.” “Do we know who did it?” Marie shook her head. “No. But it might be worth checking into. I know you used to be friends with the Warden.” I wasn’t sure how she knew that, but I was long past trying to figure out how anything in this little chapel worked. “Thought you would want to know.” “Thank you,” I told her, my mind reeling.<</if>>She looked as if she was going to say something but the door banged open, interupting her. “Shit! What the hell happened?” Milo yelled. [[Next|Chapter Four 1]]“I didn’t realize that was what qualified as ‘nuts’,” I told him. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” I hoped that I wouldn't run around naked in the streets. That would be a new one. I sat back in the bed as the doctor worked. I felt tired. My body was floating back and forth and didn’t feel attached to where it should have been. The grave no longer called for me, but I didn’t feel present. Like I was floating somewhere else. I needed to call for Pen. Ask $himher truly what happened. But I couldn’t even think of $hisher name without feeling a block of some sort. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Hadn't $heshe been the one to keep me alive? Not reaping me despite the rules of $hisher job.<</if>> “Alright, you seem stable,” Victor said to my surprise. “You do have some friends upstairs. Would you like to see them?” “Who are they?” “Some very persistent men are pacing my front room and wearing a hole in the rug.” He patted my shoulder. “How about I go get them? Because I’m not sure they are going to wait much longer before they storm the castle.” When Victor disappeared, I listened for Turner. I could hear some jostling from behind the curtain as Marie helped get him more comfortable. “You think Herald’s okay?” Turner was whispering. “He didn’t come down to take his formaldehyde unit. He was too concerned about me. He shouldn’t do that.” I heard an irritated sigh and a click of the tongue. “That is a conversation to have with him, then. Not me.” “He won’t listen, Marie.” “Sounds like you two are made for each other then. Stubborn as a mule you are. Didn’t we tell you to stay calm? Take it easy.” Silence. “That’s what I thought.” I saw the shadows of Turner being tucked in as Marie straightened. “Get some sleep, Turner.” As she came around the curtain, she took one look at me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>“They aren’t going to tell you. But I think it’s important that you know. More happened today than just what took place in that village with your friend. The guard was slaughtered today.” My eyes went wide. “What?” Marie, for her part, was unblinking. “Not all of them. But a good portion.” “Do we know who did it?” Marie shook her head. “No. But it might be worth checking into. I know you used to be friends with the Warden.” I wasn’t sure how she knew that, but I was long past trying to figure out how anything in this little chapel worked. “Thought you would want to know.” “Thank you,” I told her, my mind reeling.<</if>> She looked as if she was going to say something but the door banged open, interupting her. “Shit! What the hell happened?” Milo yelled. [[Next|Chapter Four 1]]“I’m holding on,” I told him. I didn’t know how or why but I wasn’t going to look too hard at the gift I had been given. “You’re a fighter,” Victor said with a smile. “I can see that about you.” He patted me on the shoulder. “It’s good for a heart to have a blade to guide it.” I looked at that man. “Do you–” “No need to look too close at an old man’s words,” he proclaimed loudly. “But I am impressed, yougin’. Impressed with your strength. Your tenacity. I wish I was four hundred years younger.” I sat back in the bed as the doctor worked. I felt tired. My body was floating back and forth and didn’t feel attached to where it should have been. The grave no longer called for me, but I didn’t feel present. Like I was floating somewhere else. I needed to call for Pen. Ask $himher truly what happened. But I couldn’t even think of $hisher name without feeling a block of some sort. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Hadn't $heshe been the one to keep me alive? Not reaping me despite the rules of $hisher job.<</if>> “Alright, you seem stable,” Victor said to my surprise. “You do have some friends upstairs. Would you like to see them?” “Who are they?” “Some very persistent men are pacing my front room and wearing a hole in the rug.” He patted my shoulder. “How about I go get them? Because I’m not sure they are going to wait much longer before they storm the castle.” When Victor disappeared, I listened for Turner. I could hear some jostling from behind the curtain as Marie helped get him more comfortable. “You think Herald’s okay?” Turner was whispering. “He didn’t come down to take his formaldehyde unit. He was too concerned about me. He shouldn’t do that.” I heard an irritated sigh and a click of the tongue. “That is a conversation to have with him, then. Not me.” “He won’t listen, Marie.” “Sounds like you two are made for each other then. Stubborn as a mule you are. Didn’t we tell you to stay calm? Take it easy.” Silence. “That’s what I thought.” I saw the shadows of Turner being tucked in as Marie straightened. “Get some sleep, Turner.” As she came around the curtain, she took one look at me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>“They aren’t going to tell you. But I think it’s important that you know. More happened today than just what took place in that village with your friend. The guard was slaughtered today.” My eyes went wide. “What?” Marie, for her part, was unblinking. “Not all of them. But a good portion.” “Do we know who did it?” Marie shook her head. “No. But it might be worth checking into. I know you used to be friends with the Warden.” I wasn’t sure how she knew that, but I was long past trying to figure out how anything in this little chapel worked. “Thought you would want to know.” “Thank you,” I told her, my mind reeling.<</if>> She looked as if she was going to say something but the door banged open, interupting her. “Shit! What the hell happened?” Milo yelled. [[Next|Chapter Four 1]]“I think I’m falling apart,” I told him. Everything was just too much too quick and I didn’t know how I was going to keep going. “No you’re not,” he said, surprisingly gentle. “I’ve seen falling apart. You don’t even have the kinds of stitches on your body that will allow a limb to fall off.” “No, I mean–” “I know what you mean- but you are not falling apart. You are overwhelmed. You may be scared. You want some sort of peace. But that’s just not your life right this moment. It will be. One day. But you’ll have to work for it. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. And, trust those that are close to you. Because going through hell is not a party without some friends.” I sat back in the bed as the doctor worked. I felt tired. My body was floating back and forth and didn’t feel attached to where it should have been. The grave no longer called for me, but I didn’t feel present. Like I was floating somewhere else. I needed to call for Pen. Ask $himher truly what happened. But I couldn’t even think of $hisher name without feeling a block of some sort. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Hadn't $heshe been the one to keep me alive? Not reaping me despite the rules of $hisher job.<</if>> “Alright, you seem stable,” Victor said to my surprise. “You do have some friends upstairs. Would you like to see them?” “Who are they?” “Some very persistent men are pacing my front room and wearing a hole in the rug.” He patted my shoulder. “How about I go get them? Because I’m not sure they are going to wait much longer before they storm the castle.” When Victor disappeared, I listened for Turner. I could hear some jostling from behind the curtain as Marie helped get him more comfortable. “You think Herald’s okay?” Turner was whispering. “He didn’t come down to take his formaldehyde unit. He was too concerned about me. He shouldn’t do that.” I heard an irritated sigh and a click of the tongue. “That is a conversation to have with him, then. Not me.” “He won’t listen, Marie.” “Sounds like you two are made for each other then. Stubborn as a mule you are. Didn’t we tell you to stay calm? Take it easy.” Silence. “That’s what I thought.” I saw the shadows of Turner being tucked in as Marie straightened. “Get some sleep, Turner.” As she came around the curtain, she took one look at me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>“They aren’t going to tell you. But I think it’s important that you know. More happened today than just what took place in that village with your friend. The guard was slaughtered today.” My eyes went wide. “What?” Marie, for her part, was unblinking. “Not all of them. But a good portion.” “Do we know who did it?” Marie shook her head. “No. But it might be worth checking into. I know you used to be friends with the Warden.” I wasn’t sure how she knew that, but I was long past trying to figure out how anything in this little chapel worked. “Thought you would want to know.” “Thank you,” I told her, my mind reeling.<</if>> She looked as if she was going to say something but the door banged open, interupting her. “Shit! What the hell happened?” Milo yelled. [[Next|Chapter Four 1]] Milo and Malcolm walked into the room, passing Marie. Milo was hovering near the end of the bed, stopping himself from coming any further. Malcolm, however, came to my side “We heard there was a problem within the market. We have been looking for you. We ran into Herald and he directed us here.” <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> “It was Gabriel,” I said, my throat going dry. “I don’t know what happened, what triggered it, but he broke somehow. I wouldn’t even believe it was him if I hadn’t been there.” Milo frowned. “What do you mean?” Usually, when it came to Gabriel, he was the butt of the joke for Milo. The fact that there was actual concern meant they had already heard rumors starting. “He was… he kept saying he needed to wash the unclean,” I whispered. “There were Velvet Guards everywhere. He just slaughtered them. Kept telling me that he was there to purge them. I…” “How was his grace?” Malcolm asked, interrupting me. For some reason, the fear I saw in Malcolm’s eyes, solidified how serious the situation truly was. “His skin was cracked and glowing,” I told them. “But I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if he’s using too much or too little of it. Or if it even means anything at all.” “It’s fading,” Milo said. “We don’t know that.” Malcolm sighed, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “He’s Fallen. It was bound to have happened years ago. The fact that he’s held on this long…”<</if>> <<if $gabrielro == "true">>“I died,” I said. “I died and it triggered his madness, didn’t it.” I thought back to the ball. The night in the garden with Elias. The madness had been starting then but he had kept it under control. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>“I died,” I said. “I died and it triggered his madness, didn’t it.” I thought back to the ball. The night in the garden with Elias. The madness had been starting then but he had kept it under control. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “This is because I died, isn’t it. He considers himself the markets protector and yet he saw none of it coming. It’s broken something inside him.<</if>> <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>“Don’t think that way,” Malcolm said. “Fallen are prone to madness for many reasons. They are not meant to be cut off from the Knowing.” “Malcolm, he killed a dozen people. He slaughtered them. He came after me and stabbed me.” My hand went to my middle unconsciously. Both men looked where my fingers touched like they could see the wound. “He stabbed you?” Milo said. “The fuc–” “You don’t have room to talk,” Mal commented. “Yeah I do. I opened the gate with a key. He took a sword and ran $name through.” “Enough,” I said, running my fingers against my temples and trying to edge out the headache. “Just, enough. We need to deal with Gabriel but you two are not the ones to go to him. I know you guys came here to help but–” “Actually,” Malcolm started. “We didn’t come here because of Gabriel.”<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">> “It was Hazel,” I stared at Malcolm, trying to reconcile what I had seen with the girl I once knew. “Malcolm, something is wrong with her. I- I think she’s being compelled. Or– Or she’s sick. I…” “What do you mean?” Milo asked, standing at the edge of my bed. I swallowed, feeling a headache begin to pound in the back of my skull. “There’s a village somewhere in the Night Market. I’m not sure where. Hazel was there, loading up supplies from them. But everyone was… they had been slaughtered. The streets were covered in blood. But she didn’t even seem to notice. She just walked right over them. Putting the supplies she found in the cart outside.” Both Milo and Malcolm had the same expression on their faces. It was the same one I wore when I had first seen her. It wasn’t Hazel. “Maybe she didn’t kill them,” Malcolm said. Though I didn’t hear conviction in his tone. At the edge of the bed, Milo was digging a cigarette out, looking for a lighter. “You not going to back me up on this?” Malcolm asked him. “No,” he croaked. “Mainly because I told you this kind of shit would happen. She’s been unstable for a long fucking time.” “No,” I denied. “No, this isn’t actually her. It couldn’t have been. I know she was there but she wasn’t in her right mind. I don’t even think she knew where she was.” Her movements were too calculated. Like she was following some sort of path that had been mapped out for her. She had little to no reaction and had just hummed the same song the moment it became quiet. “What happened to you?” Malcolm asked. “Did she hurt you?” I had hit the wall hard. So hard that I could still feel the area in the back of my head that should have been mush. “She came to. I don’t think she meant to blast me back but I also don’t think she knew what was going on. She was scared, Malcolm.” “Shit,” Milo muttered. “We need to be dealing with this, Mal. One of us is going to have to find a way to get to that shop.” Malcolm didn’t answer though. He was staring at a fixed point on the ground. “Mal!” “Not now,” he said softly. “We’ll deal with Hazel and whatever is happening but–” “What the fuck do you mean but? We need to –” “To tell $name why we’re actually here,” Malcolm finished. He looked like he wanted to leave. To head straight to his sister. But there was something else holding him back. “It might coincide with what is happening to Hazel either way.”<</if>> I stared blankly at them. “Why are you here?” The two of them exchanged looks with each other. I noticed then the way Milo’s fingers were twirling an unlit cigarette. How Malcolm was holding himself ramrod straight, stiff with tension. “What happened?” [[Next|Chapter Four 2]] Milo pulled up a chair, looking behind the curtain at a suddenly snoring Turner. He flipped the chair around, straddling it before settling down next to the bed. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers against the arm of the chair. “I used a grimoire to bring you down here,” he said without preamble. “It had a spell in it that was supposed to make the market into an object of sacrifice.” “Milo, I know this.” It wasn’t news. Technically, for me, it had never been news. “Lamplight, let him talk,” Malcolm said softly. I couldn’t help but notice how he scooted closer to me. I didn’t know if it was to offer me comfort or himself. Milo’s cigarette snapped in his fingers. “The grimoire was Lucinda Albright’s.” The shock of the image jolted through my mind. I could see it all clearly. Him getting Hazel drunk and sneaking into the locked room. Slicing through the hidden runes. Grabbing the grimoire that had nearly destroyed the market and replacing it with a paltry little book, hoping that Hazel would never have need for her mothers book. “This is an important little detail,” Malcolm said. “Because my mother came back //after// Milo used the spell.” <<if $miloend == "true">>I looked away guiltily. He hadn't known. Only a few hours prior was he made aware of Lucinda Albright's presence. I could only imagine what that was doing ot him. <<elseif $miloend == "false">>I paused, realizing that until this moment, I wasn't even sure if Malcolm knew his mother had risen. Taken up residence with Hazel. It was all starting to make far more sense why he hadn't gone to visit his sister. "When did you learn she was back?" I asked. His eyes ticked to Milo, his expression tight and controlled. "It doesn't matter."<</if>> “I have Lucinda's book right here,” Milo said, pulling it out of his jacket. I could feel the power emanating from it. It felt sickening. Like slime dripping down my skin. I ticked my gaze towards Malcolm, watching the way he recoiled. “I– I’m not trying to make an excuse here but– I think this was planned.” [[How would it have been planned]] [[I don’t know if it was planned but the coincidence is concerning]] [[I don’t trust anything that involves Lucinda]]“How would it have been planned?” I asked him. “I understand that your mother is a force to contend with but she has also been dead for a long time. Longer than you were. How would she have been able to plan anything?” “She’s been back for a few months,” Milo cut in. “I wouldn’t discredit what she may have been able to do in that time. Especially if any of her old contacts were still alive.” “Okay,” I started. It still felt like a bit of a stretch. More of an idea born from past trauma and paranoia. “But don’t you think that–” My words were cut off as the door was slammed open. "I’m going to fucking kill you.” The air was sucked out of the room in a thunderclap with Belladonna’s sudden arrival. Milo was slammed against the wall, held six feet above the ground as Belladonna’s claws wrapped around him. He kicked, his hands coming up to clutch her wrist but Bella’s hold was strong. Her face began morphing, fangs elongating. “You little piss stain,” she hissed. “I will kill you. I will cut you open and hang you with your own entrails.” Milo choked, eyes bugging wide. Malcolm jumped up. “Malady, knock it off. You kill him and there are repercussions.” “I’m fully aware of what the repercussions are and I don’t care.” Blood began to drip down Milo’s neck in lines. HIs face was turning purple, his feet kicking in an erratic way. “Maybe the job will go back to Malcolm,” she whispered. “Or maybe that unconscious body over there. I don’t really care as long as you are fucking dead. Because I am not going to let you ever come back. This is it, Next. Say your goodbyes.” [[Call Belladonna off]] [[Let Malcolm handle it]] [[We have bigger problems than Milo at the moment]]“I don’t know if it was planned but the coincidence is concerning,” I told them. “Either way, Lucinda is someone we need to deal with. Hazel sequestering herself away should have been our first clue that something terrible was going on. But even more concerning is the fact that she’s not here. The old Hazel would be at my bedside. She’d be right in the middle of the two of you. There would be dinners and teas and laughter. But she hasn’t once come around for any of that.” <<if $hazelro == "true">> “You’ve seen her, though, right? Both of you have seen her.” Milo was looking back and forth between Malcolm and I. “I haven’t,” Malcolm said, offering nothing more. “I have,” I told him, “but she didn’t remember anything of us. She didn’t even recall my name.”<</if>> “My mother certainly has a way of complicating things,” Malcolm said. The difference in Malcolm alone now that he knew his mother was back, was stark. He looked like a man hunted. Kept looking over his shoulder. I went to reach for him when the door slammed open. "I’m going to fucking kill you.” The air was sucked out of the room in a thunderclap with Belladonna’s sudden arrival. Milo was slammed against the wall, held six feet above the ground as Belladonna’s claws wrapped around him. He kicked, his hands coming up to clutch her wrist but Bella’s hold was strong. Her face began morphing, fangs elongating. “You little piss stain,” she hissed. “I will kill you. I will cut you open and hang you with your own entrails.” Milo choked, eyes bugging wide. Malcolm jumped up. “Malady, knock it off. You kill him and there are repercussions.” “I’m fully aware of what the repercussions are and I don’t care.” Blood began to drip down Milo’s neck in lines. HIs face was turning purple, his feet kicking in an erratic way. “Maybe the job will go back to Malcolm,” she whispered. “Or maybe that unconscious body over there. I don’t really care as long as you are fucking dead. Because I am not going to let you ever come back. This is it, Next. Say your goodbyes.” [[Try to scramble and stop her]] [[Let her attack]] [[Call Belladonna off]] [[Let Malcolm handle it]] [[We have bigger problems than Milo at the moment]]“I don't trust anything that involves Lucinda,” I said. “That woman has Hazel in her clutches. I don’t care how Hazel used to spin stories about her mother. She was and is abusive.” Malcolm was stiff by my side, looking down at the ground. Milo, however, got up, hesitantly approaching the bed. “Here.” He laid the book on my lap, opening it to the spell. “$name,” he said, voice quiet. “There’s a lot I need to tell you.” My eyes traveled over the book, running over the lines that were cracked into the parchment. The words were stained a rusted brown, tinged with green magic. “Are you going to tell me?” I asked. “Not now,” he said, taking another step back. “Not because I’m avoiding but because–” “Because I’m going to fucking kill you.” The air was sucked out of the room in a thunderclap with Belladonna’s sudden arrival. Milo was slammed against the wall, held six feet above the ground as Belladonna’s claws wrapped around him. He kicked, his hands coming up to clutch her wrist but Bella’s hold was strong. Her face began morphing, fangs elongating. “You little piss stain,” she hissed. “I will kill you. I will cut you open and hang you with your own entrails.” Milo choked, eyes bugging wide. Malcolm jumped up. “Malady, knock it off. You kill him and there are repercussions.” “I’m fully aware of what the repercussions are and I don’t care.” Blood began to drip down Milo’s neck in lines. HIs face was turning purple, his feet kicking in an erratic way. “Maybe the job will go back to Malcolm,” she whispered. “Or maybe that unconscious body over there. I don’t really care as long as you are fucking dead. Because I am not going to let you ever come back. This is it, Next. Say your goodbyes.” [[Call Belladonna off]] [[Let Malcolm handle it]] [[We have bigger problems than Milo at the moment]]“Bella,” I called out. She held up one finger. “I will be getting to you in a moment.” Milo coughed as his windpipe was cut off. Face going red and hands scrambling weakly against her. All those years of teasing her about how much he’d love for her to control him and he now looked terrified. “Belladonna, we need him,” I said. “He’s the only one that knows everything that’s gone on so far. You can’t kill him.” She looked towards me, her eyes bloody and her face elongated. “He killed you,” she said through her teeth. “So let me be the one to decide his fate.” She didn’t want to listen. And for a heartstopping moment, I thought she wouldn’t. The blood was soaking her hand and Milo’s eyes were growing heavy. If she held on even a moment longer, she would get her wish. But instead, she dropped him to the floor. Watching as he crumpled to the floor, coughing. Milo’s hands went to his throat to wipe away the blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?”<<elseif $platonic == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <</if>> “The spell that–” Malcolm started. Belladonna held up her hand. “I am not talking to you.” She turned and looked at Milo. “You. What is this?” He sat up, leaning against the wall. “It’s what brought $name down here the first time.” “And what did you think it would do?” Milo knew he was playing with fire and was choosing his words carefully. “It was supposed to bring a piece of the Night Market down as a construct that could be sacrificed in order to put the energy back into the market’s complete being. It would then close the holes that have been created due to the opening of gates.” “The gates the gatekeeper has opened,” she demanded. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “The ones that Night Market opened. The ones that kept getting opened to save people like me. Like you. The ‘heart’ of the market was doing it. And it was killing ?them.” Belladonna’s jaw twitched as her face went back to its normal shape. She looked back down at the book once more, nails scraping across the letters. “And you read this? You performed the spell?” “Yes.” There was silence as we held our breath, watching as she read and reread the same passage several times. When she finally snapped the book shut, we all jumped. “You’re a fucking idiot.” Her heels clicked across the floor towards him again as Milo scrambled up the wall and flinched at her approach. “Do you have any background in magic? Do you know how to read ancient texts?” “I know enough,” he protested. “Obviously you do not. Because this?” She held up the book. “That spell? It isn’t to close the gates of the market, Milo. It’s to use that same energy to open a gate. A very specific gate. A gate, that most likely, brought one of the most feared witches of our time, back to life.” Milo began shaking his head. “No. I referenced it. I cross referenced it. I had others read it.” “It’s an encrypted text. Every third word is taken and put into a cipher. One that is not written down anywhere and that has to be taught orally. Have you memorized that, Milo? Did you seek anyone out that memorized that?” He balked. “No.” “No. You haven’t.” She shoved the book towards him, slapping it against his chest. “Congratulations. You wanted to save the world? You probably just ended it.” [[Next|Chapter Four 3]] Malcolm stormed up to her, trying to place himself between her and Milo. “We didn’t call you here for a confrontation. We called you because we needed help. We have my mothers grimoire. We need you to look at it. Not kill him. $name needs you to give answers.” Belladonna’s head ticked to the side, her eyes bloody and her face elongated as she stared at Milo through a monster's eyes. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> “Is this true, dear heart? Is this your wish?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “Is this true, dear heart? Is this your wish?” I locked eyes with her, seeing what no one else could. She had been waiting so long to get her hands on Milo. To kill him on my behalf. But today, this moment, was not going to be that day. “We have a problem,” I told her.<</if>> It took her a moment, but she dropped him. Watching as he crumpled to the floor, coughing. Milo’s hands went to his throat to wipe away the blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?”<<elseif $platonic == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <</if>> “The spell that–” Malcolm started. Belladonna held up her hand. “I am not talking to you.” She turned and looked at Milo. “You. What is this?” He sat up, leaning against the wall. “It’s what brought $name down here the first time.” “And what did you think it would do?” Milo knew he was playing with fire and was choosing his words carefully. “It was supposed to bring a piece of the Night Market down as a construct that could be sacrificed in order to put the energy back into the market’s complete being. It would then close the holes that have been created due to the opening of gates.” “The gates the gatekeeper has opened,” she demanded. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “The ones that Night Market opened. The ones that kept getting opened to save people like me. Like you. The ‘heart’ of the market was doing it. And it was killing ?them.” Belladonna’s jaw twitched as her face went back to its normal shape. She looked back down at the book once more, nails scraping across the letters. “And you read this? You performed the spell?” “Yes.” There was silence as we held our breath, watching as she read and reread the same passage several times. When she finally snapped the book shut, we all jumped. “You’re a fucking idiot.” Her heels clicked across the floor towards him again as Milo scrambled up the wall and flinched at her approach. “Do you have any background in magic? Do you know how to read ancient texts?” “I know enough,” he protested. “Obviously you do not. Because this?” She held up the book. “That spell? It isn’t to close the gates of the market, Milo. It’s to use that same energy to open a gate. A very specific gate. A gate, that most likely, brought one of the most feared witches of our time, back to life.” Milo began shaking his head. “No. I referenced it. I cross referenced it. I had others read it.” “It’s an encrypted text. Every third word is taken and put into a cipher. One that is not written down anywhere and that has to be taught orally. Have you memorized that, Milo? Did you seek anyone out that memorized that?” He balked. “No.” “No. You haven’t.” She shoved the book towards him, slapping it against his chest. “Congratulations. You wanted to save the world? You probably just ended it.” [[Next|Chapter Four 3]]“Lucinda is powerful but how is she that powerful?” Malcolm had shifted close to Milo. While Belladonna looked as if she wasn’t on the verge of killing him any longer, Malcolm wasn’t going to leave Milo’s side just yet. “There are rumors about my mother,” he said. “It is said she’s an ancient. Hazel and I never were able to confirm it but she could do things. Powerful things. There’s a reason they celebrated when she died.” “But what does an ancient have to do with any of this?” I have vague knowledge of what an ancient actually was. One of the beings that was first. One of the ones responsible for me, I assumed. “If she wants the market gone, she’ll have the power to get rid of it. And I don’t mean as in making the world implode like we originally thought. Lucinda Albright, if she can weaken you enough, could take control,” Belladonna said. “That’s ridiculous,” Malcolm said. “That’s…. It’s insane, right?” Milo cleared his throat. “Look at some of the writings in the margin of that book. She wanted power. She had spells in there to control you. To control Hazel. She had a spell to transmogrify you back to a…” “I know about that one,” he interrupted. Milo reached out with a shaky hand, placing it upon Malcolms. Belladonna began pacing the room, muttering to herself. I could see her eyes flash from gold to red. A chill began to stretch across the room, spreading like ice across the tiled floor. “We are going to need to address that. Address her.” I shook my head. “I don’t mean to sound callous but, add it to the list? I mean, the lanterns are off. The walls are uncontrollable even by me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> Hazel is also something we need to take into consideration here. Lucida could very well be using her as leverage. A way to keep us in line.” “A puppet,” Milo muttered. <<elseif $gabrielbreak == "true">> Gabriel has fallen to madness–” “Gabriel what?” I flinched. That wasn’t how I wanted her to find out. But she needed to know. She may have been one of the only ones to be able to do anything about it. “I think the madness has overtaken him. He killed guards today in the market.” There was a flicker of fear that crossed her face. “Did he have a reason?” “They needed to be purged.” She looked away, cursing under breath. “That stupid, stupid man. He’s not getting the help he should be getting. Where is his grace? He should have grace in his pocket to keep him sane.” “I don’t know,” I answered her truthfully. “But it is another bullet point on a very long list of problems that we don’t even know how to solve.” <</if>> “We need to get the lights back on,” Milo said. “I know Lucinda is a problem. I know this thing with the Velvet Guard is a problem. You not being in full control of yourself, is a problem. But I think we start with righting this market. Putting the lights back in the sky.” [[I agree]] [[Why do you assume that should be the first]] [[What if there is no plot other than Milo messing up a spell]]“I agree,” I told them. Milo almost looked surprised that I was agreeing even in the slightest with him. “We can’t do anything without the lights. And while there were problems before, I think they all hinged on that spell and the lights going out.” Malcolm nodded. “No. You both have a point.” Belladonna stepped forth. “The spell was a resurrection spell for her,” she stated. “She died nearly twenty years ago. Which does mean she wrote that spell before then. She planned this. It is premeditated. I would go so far as to think that even her death was. So why? Why do all of this? Because it was not to come back and sell herbs at an apothecary. $name,” she reached out, taking my hand. “There is something terrible happening here. We need the lights back on. And if we are wrong, if we find that Lucinda is not involved, then we pivot.” “I just don’t want to go rushing off again to have the rug pulled out from under us.” “Then we communicate,” Malcolm said. “We work together.” His eyes ticked between Bella and Milo. “Can you two do that?” Belladonna tipped her chin up. “I’m a professional. Don’t insult me. Milo, give me the book.” He walked over, giving her the book. He opened it though, pointing to something. He looked at me through his lashes, obviously still hesitant to speak to me. Being open and honest. “I’ve been going out into the Outlands,” he said. “Trying to find these.” He pointed to a diagram of five lanterns with the market lit up in the middle. “They’re broken,” I noticed. “They weren’t broken before I used the spell. I remember it specifically because it actually glowed. I found it kind of cool at the time. When I looked back at the book after you… I looked at it and noticed they were all broken. I can’t read the text though.” Belladonna leaned over. “I can.” “What does it say?” I asked. “I don’t know the exact phrasing,” she said. “The language is dead. But, from what I can gather, it speaks of the vitality of the realm being stored within the lanterns. When darkness falls, a new market will form.” Malcolm slumped against the wall. His face was pale. [[Next|Chapter Four 4]]“What’s your reasoning?” I asked him. “You need to start explaining these things to us.” “When the lanterns went out is when I first started to suspect that the spell had gone wrong. There is nothing in there about lanterns. Or, at least I didn’t think so. I didn’t know about the cypher.” “My guess,” Malcolm intoned, “Is that Ludinda is using the power that should be going into the lanterns, and siphoning it off for her own. She may be powerful, but she was still dead for a long time. And whatever she is planning, she’s going to need help.” I sucked in a deep breath. “We are basing this all off of assumption.” “Even so,” Belladonna said, coming to sit near me. “Assumption or not, I do think the lights coming back on is going to help. We can’t see what is happening in the world. Or, most of us can’t. Things could be operating right under our nose and we wouldn’t even know which way to look.” “What if there is no plot other than Milo messing up a spell?” I asked. It needed to be said. “I didn’t fuck up the spell, though. The gates to the outside worlds have stopped. I can control the ones in here.” “But so far it doesn’t look like it’s fixed anything. What if you did all this but there’s no bad guy lurking in the shadows. There's no nefarious plan. What if this is just the consequences of your actions Milo? I expected Malcolm to come forward and defend him. He had thus far remained pretty neutral on Milo’s reasoning. And when it came to his mother, I didn’t see him casting her in any role other than the bad guy. But it was Belladonna that stepped forth. “The spell was a resurrection spell for her,” she stated. “She died nearly twenty years ago. Which does mean she wrote that spell before then. She planned this. It is premeditated. I would go so far as to think that even her death was. So why? Why do all of this? Because it was not to come back and sell herbs at an apothecary. $name,” she reached out, taking my hand. “There is something terrible happening here. We need the lights back on. And if we are wrong, if we find that Lucinda is not involved, then we pivot.” “I just don’t want to go rushing off again to have the rug pulled out from under us.” “Then we communicate,” Malcolm said. “We work together.” His eyes ticked between Bella and Milo. “Can you two do that?” Belladonna tipped her chin up. “I’m a professional. Don’t insult me. Milo, give me the book.” He walked over, giving her the book. He opened it though, pointing to something. He looked at me through his lashes, obviously still hesitant to speak to me. Being open and honest. “I’ve been going out into the Outlands,” he said. “Trying to find these.” He pointed to a diagram of five lanterns with the market lit up in the middle. “They’re broken,” I noticed. “They weren’t broken before I used the spell. I remember it specifically because it actually glowed. I found it kind of cool at the time. When I looked back at the book after you… I looked at it and noticed they were all broken. I can’t read the text though.” Belladonna leaned over. “I can.” “What does it say?” I asked. “I don’t know the exact phrasing,” she said. “The language is dead. But, from what I can gather, it speaks of the vitality of the realm being stored within the lanterns. When darkness falls, a new market will form.” Malcolm slumped against the wall. His face was pale. [[Next|Chapter Four 4]]“What if there is no plot other than Milo messing up a spell?” I asked. It needed to be said. “I didn’t fuck up the spell, though. The gates to the outside worlds have stopped. I can control the ones in here.” “But so far it doesn’t look like it’s fixed anything. What if you did all this but there’s no bad guy lurking in the shadows. There's no nefarious plan. What if this is just the consequences of your actions Milo? I expected Malcolm to come forward and defend him. He had thus far remained pretty neutral on Milo’s reasoning. And when it came to his mother, I didn’t see him casting her in any role other than the bad guy. But it was Belladonna that stepped forth. “The spell was a resurrection spell for her,” she stated. “She died nearly twenty years ago. Which does mean she wrote that spell before then. She planned this. It is premeditated. I would go so far as to think that even her death was. So why? Why do all of this? Because it was not to come back and sell herbs at an apothecary. $name,” she reached out, taking my hand. “There is something terrible happening here. We need the lights back on. And if we are wrong, if we find that Lucinda is not involved, then we pivot.” “I just don’t want to go rushing off again to have the rug pulled out from under us.” “Then we communicate,” Malcolm said. “We work together.” His eyes ticked between Bella and Milo. “Can you two do that?” Belladonna tipped her chin up. “I’m a professional. Don’t insult me. Milo, give me the book.” He walked over, giving her the book. He opened it though, pointing to something. He looked at me through his lashes, obviously still hesitant to speak to me. Being open and honest. “I’ve been going out into the Outlands,” he said. “Trying to find these.” He pointed to a diagram of five lanterns with the market lit up in the middle. “They’re broken,” I noticed. “They weren’t broken before I used the spell. I remember it specifically because it actually glowed. I found it kind of cool at the time. When I looked back at the book after you… I looked at it and noticed they were all broken. I can’t read the text though.” Belladonna leaned over. “I can.” “What does it say?” I asked. “I don’t know the exact phrasing,” she said. “The language is dead. But, from what I can gather, it speaks of the vitality of the realm being stored within the lanterns. When darkness falls, a new market will form.” Malcolm slumped against the wall. His face was pale. [[Next|Chapter Four 4]] A thick tension was lying between all of us. Milo didn’t dare move and Belladonna watched him pointedly. Meanwhile, Malcolm looked lost and I? I needed to take control. To bring everyone to the same playing field. Otherwise, none of this was going to work. “Bella,” I asked quietly. “Will you take the book back to your place? Read it. See what you can glean.” She was the only one I trusted to look at it and decipher whatever undercurrent of manipulation I suspected to be there. <<if $belladonnaro == "false">>“Absolutely.” She closed the book and snapped her fingers. It turned into a small bat that settled on her shoulder. “I will see you tomorrow morning. I’m assuming that you are going to be here still.” “I don’t know,” I told her truthfully. “But, I live in Artisan Alley. I’ll be close by.” “And are you going to choose to still associate with that man?” she asked, glancing at Milo. Milo kept his mouth shut. He didn’t shy away from her gaze, but he didn’t defend himself either. “The book, Bella,” I told her quietly. She made a small sound under her breath as she smiled tightly at Milo. “Watch yourself, Gatekeeper.” “Have been for a while, Baron.” Pausing at the door, Bella looked over her shoulder. “Before I go about all of this, I would like to find Gabriel,” she told me. “I would too.”<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> “If you think I’m leaving you for even a second you are sorely mistaken.” I smiled gently at her. “Bella, I’m safe.” “Every action that you have ever made clearly says otherwise.” And I really couldn’t argue with that since I had now ‘died’ a few times on her. But, the moment she said it, I saw the slump in her shoulders. It was so slight that I almost missed it. “Though, I have always prided myself on being someone who wishes to support her partner. Not stifle them. I will leave and read this book.” I smiled wistfully at her, wishing that I could touch her. “Will you come back and visit?” I asked. “I will be here as soon as I clear some things up,” she told me. Stopping at the door, she looked over her shoulder at me. “I need to find Gabriel. We both do.” “I know.”<</if>> <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>“I am not sure if he will be in the listening mood. Do you wish for me to approach him or would you like me to contact Reese." "Who?" Malcolm asked. Belladonna waved him off. "His adoptive father. The only one I talk to at least." [[You should contact Elias|Elias]] [[You should do it|You]] [[You should contact Reese|Reese]]<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">>Suddenly, what Marie said came back to me. The guard had been massacred. There had been dissent in the ranks. Not only was I worried about Gabriel’s safety, but knowing how he took his job, he was going to need someone. The loss of any of his crew was bound to be devastating. “There were some issues today with the guard,” I told Belladonna. The extent of which we didn’t know yet. She nodded. “I heard whispers. It’s part of the reason I need to go find him. Though, given that this,” she held up the book, “is important as well, would you like me to go deal with the situation? Or someone else.” [[Go get Elias|Elias]] [[Go make sure he is safe|You]] [[Go get Reese|Reese]]<</if>> “You go,” I told her. “I think you can make him see reason.” Belladonna frustrated Gabriel. Enraged him at times. But they still had a history. He would still listen. I had to believe that she could get through to him and bring him home to us. <<if $gbpoly == "true">> “I’m not sure that will be the case, $name.” She rarely used my name. It sounded grave coming from her lips. Attention grabbing in a way I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be. “We all agreed to be in this together,” I told her. “Even during the hard times. I’ve been trying with him, Bella. But he needs you too.” It was a fact that she was trying to hide from. Another weight that was added to her shoulder. I nearly took it all back when I saw it settle across her. “I’ll try,” she said.<</if>> "Reason and Gabriel aren't often terms I use in the same sentence but we never know what the day will bring." Belladonna looked at both Milo and Malcolm, nodding once. As if she hadn’t stormed in the room ready to take Milo’s head off. It was what made her so terrifying. One moment she could be ready to spill blood across the floor, the next, she was all business. <<if $belladonnaro== "true">> Belladonna looked as if she wished to touch me. Lay her body near mine in reassurance. It wasn’t until touch was taken from us that I realized how tactile Belladonna was. The subtle little brushes against my back. The way her lips would ghost over a pulse point. Even her stare had always felt like a caress. Now it was hollow. I felt unfulfilled. “I’ll be back soon,” she vowed. “Hurry,” I couldn’t help but say. When she slipped from the room with a rustle of wings, I felt my stomach clench. I wished desperately I could have followed.<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Belladonna looked as if she wished to touch me. Lay her body near mine in reassurance. It wasn’t until touch was taken from us that I realized how tactile Belladonna was. The subtle little brushes against my back. The way her lips would ghost over a pulse point. Even her stare had always felt like a caress. Now it was hollow. I felt unfulfilled. “I’ll be back soon,” she vowed. “Hurry,” I couldn’t help but say. When she slipped from the room with a rustle of wings, I felt my stomach clench. I wished desperately I could have followed.<</if>> With Belladonna gone, I turned to look at Malcolm. The dark bags under his eyes were heavy and stained purple. [[Milo, can you give Mal and I a moment]] [[Mal, can you give Milo and I a moment]] [[Milo, Mal needs us]] <<set $help to "belladonna">><<if $gabrielro == "true">>“Maybe you should go get Reese,” I told her. She nodded in agreement. “At the very least, he’s the one that will be able to incapacitate him if he tries to run. I’ll let him know it's imperative that Gabriel is ours. Reese won’t let that man out of his sight.”<<elseif $gabrielro == "false">> "Is Reese the one you believe will be best suited for this?" "Better than Elias," she told me truthfully. "And I know him. He won't turn me away." I nodded. "Then Reese. I think that's the best option. "Consider it done."<</if>> <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>"You'll need to tell him about the maddness." “Reese has dealt with the madness before with Elias. He’ll at least know where to start.” History always repeated. Reese had been prepared for this from the moment he met Gabriel.<</if>> Belladonna looked at both Milo and Malcolm, nodding once. As if she hadn’t stormed in the room ready to take Milo’s head off. It was what made her so terrifying. One moment she could be ready to spill blood across the floor, the next, she was all business. <<if $belladonnaro== "true">> Belladonna looked as if she wished to touch me. Lay her body near mine in reassurance. It wasn’t until touch was taken from us that I realized how tactile Belladonna was. The subtle little brushes against my back. The way her lips would ghost over a pulse point. Even her stare had always felt like a caress. Now it was hollow. I felt unfulfilled. “I’ll be back soon,” she vowed. “Hurry,” I couldn’t help but say. When she slipped from the room with a rustle of wings, I felt my stomach clench. I wished desperately I could have followed.<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Belladonna looked as if she wished to touch me. Lay her body near mine in reassurance. It wasn’t until touch was taken from us that I realized how tactile Belladonna was. The subtle little brushes against my back. The way her lips would ghost over a pulse point. Even her stare had always felt like a caress. Now it was hollow. I felt unfulfilled. “I’ll be back soon,” she vowed. “Hurry,” I couldn’t help but say. When she slipped from the room with a rustle of wings, I felt my stomach clench. I wished desperately I could have followed.<</if>> With Belladonna gone, I turned to look at Malcolm. The dark bags under his eyes were heavy and stained purple. [[Milo, can you give Mal and I a moment]] [[Mal, can you give Milo and I a moment]] [[Milo, Mal needs us]] <<set $help to "reese">> “If Gabriel’s madness has truly taken over, he is going to need Elias. Despite how he is, I do believe he’ll better be able to handle the situation more. Or at least point out signs that we don’t even know to look for.” “I am unsure if that’s going to be the correct course of action,” she said, voice tight. Whatever Belladonna and Elias’s history was, it hadn’t repaired itself when she became Baron. If anything, the tension was forced to the light now. “Elias is unreliable on the best of days.” “But he loves Gabriel. More than anything. He’ll help. I know he will.” Belladonna looked uncertain. She offered no argument, however. And that told me she knew I was right. “Bella, you are a Baron. You can contact him through those channels. We know the entire ‘Baron’s staying away from each other thing’ is bullshit.” “Yes,” she said. “Which is going to be another problem. But not today. I will do what you ask.” Belladonna looked at both Milo and Malcolm, nodding once. As if she hadn’t stormed in the room ready to take Milo’s head off. It was what made her so terrifying. One moment she could be ready to spill blood across the floor, the next, she was all business. <<if $belladonnaro== "true">> Belladonna looked as if she wished to touch me. Lay her body near mine in reassurance. It wasn’t until touch was taken from us that I realized how tactile Belladonna was. The subtle little brushes against my back. The way her lips would ghost over a pulse point. Even her stare had always felt like a caress. Now it was hollow. I felt unfulfilled. “I’ll be back soon,” she vowed. “Hurry,” I couldn’t help but say. When she slipped from the room with a rustle of wings, I felt my stomach clench. I wished desperately I could have followed.<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Belladonna looked as if she wished to touch me. Lay her body near mine in reassurance. It wasn’t until touch was taken from us that I realized how tactile Belladonna was. The subtle little brushes against my back. The way her lips would ghost over a pulse point. Even her stare had always felt like a caress. Now it was hollow. I felt unfulfilled. “I’ll be back soon,” she vowed. “Hurry,” I couldn’t help but say. When she slipped from the room with a rustle of wings, I felt my stomach clench. I wished desperately I could have followed.<</if>> With Belladonna gone, I turned to look at Malcolm. The dark bags under his eyes were heavy and stained purple. [[Milo, can you give Mal and I a moment]] [[Mal, can you give Milo and I a moment]] [[Milo, Mal needs us]] <<set $help to "elias">>“Milo,” I started. “Can you give Mal and I a moment?” Milo looked relieved to be given an out of the conversation. A chance to collect his thoughts. He didn’t even respond as he rushed out of the room, leaving Malcolm and I next to each other while Turner snored on the other side of the curtain. “I’d ask if you were okay but I think that might be a dumb question right now.” Malcolm sunk down on the bed next to me. “My mothers grimoire,” he said, weighing the words out. “Why would he even pick that up?” “I’m not going to pretend to know.” I doubted I was the one that could really pass judgment on what that grimoire would even mean in the long run. “Hazel told me she burned it,” Malcolm said. I startled, whipping my head towards his. There was a resigned look on his face. “I should have known better. I just wanted to believe her.” There was a lot of that going around. “What do you want to do?” “Open a gate,” he said. “Go live somewhere else. Close it all up and never return.” I rested my hand against his. “You don’t want to do that.” “Of course I don’t. But I also don’t want to deal with this. My mother being back means nothing good. We have to get Hazel out of there.” “We will,” I assured him. “I promise you. We’re not going to let your mother win. We just have to play all of this carefully. There’s too much coming to a head at once and it’s probably by design.” Malcolm rubbed at his eyes, staving off the head ache. I could feel the tension coursing through his body. In the lines of the arm that was pressed against me. [[I’m not going to leave you alone in this]] [[We will call in the Velvet Guard if we have to]] [[Lucinda is not going to hurt you]] “Mal,” I said softly. “Can you give Milo and I a moment?” Malcolm looked at me with a question on his face. Sending him away felt like the wrong thing to do. But I needed a moment with Milo. Standing, he nodded his head before slipping out of the room. I knew he wouldn’t go far. Knowing that man, he would just be standing in the stairwell. “This needs to stop.” Milo stared at me, unmoving. “I– which part?” “All of it. The closing people out. Withholding information. I came to the Night Market because I wanted to know what it was like to live. To be one of the individuals I work so hard to protect. <<if $miloro == "true">> I had wanted to fall in love,” I said sadly. Milo swallowed, glancing away. “And I did it. More than I understood.<</if>> And now I am wondering if I also came down here to tell you that you need to stop navigating this world alone. That its time to extend trust. Because none of this would have happened if you would have said something, Milo.” “You don’t know that,” he croaked. “I do. I actually do.” Sitting up, I could almost pretend like things were normal. That the lines were shining outside and that the last few months hadn’t happened. “Can you do that, Milo? Can you stop doing everything on your own?” “It’s not like I wanted to in the first place.” The anger was starting to creep into his voice. “Malcolm was dead. Hazel was this close to snapping. <<if $hazeldrama == "true">> You saw her today. A new situation for you, sure. But one I’ve been living with for years. Wondering what would break her. Wondering if I was going to be the one to do it.<</if>> So tell me, who else did I have to trust this with?” “Feebus," I tried. I wanted to add more names to the list but realized that the extent of people Milo trusted was incredibly small. “I wasn’t going to bring this to Feebus’s house. He literally cares for most of the orphans in the market. My only other option would have been the authorities. And you know as well as I do that nothing would have come from that. I’ve been //alone//, $name. And when you showed up I–” “You didn’t know me,” I finished. “I didn’t know you,” he repeated. <<if $miloro == "true">> “And when I did? I just wanted to believe that it wasn’t going to go the way it did.”<</if>> Lying back on the bed, I felt my body sink. I felt more and more tired as the moments went on. “I’ll tell you everything I know,” Milo said after a moment. “I promise.” “And if I don’t believe you?” I tested. “That’s fine,” he said. <<if $miloro == "true">> “Because I’ll spend every second I can trying to prove it to you.”<</if>> [[I couldn’t think of this right now]] [[That’ll be interesting to see]] [[I trust that you will]] Malcolm was not one to ask for help. I knew this about him like it was a fact carved into my bones. Even when help was offered, he gently brushed it away. Part of me wished to push, the other part of me wanted to give him his space. But more than anything, I just wanted him to know that we could put everything aside and still help each other. “Milo,” I said. I didn’t say the words. Mal needed us. I just looked at Milo, gesturing towards Malcolm. He looked dead on his feet, ready to fall at any moment. “Hey,” Milo said, springing into action. It was a direction. A lifeline. One that maybe Milo needed to. “Hey, Mal. Sit for a minute, yeah?” He got a hand on Malcolm’s arm and guided him to sit near me. Malcolm looked up, blinking. I wondered if he even knew that Belladonna had left. “I’m alright,” he said, clearing his throat. <<if $miloend == "false">>“Mal, your mother’s back,” I started gently. My arm was pressed to his side, running up and down the length of his torso. While Milo didn’t sit on the bed with us, he hovered nearby. “You don't have to be alright. I– I‘m sorry. I should have told you.” He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I should have expected it. Especially with the things that are going on with Hazel. I thought that us not seeing each other was something else. Like me being a bad brother. Her not wanting to see me because of what happened at the ball. Or, that we were both being stubborn. Now it’s clear, Lucinda’s gotten to me. She fucking got to me somehow.”<<elseif $miloend == "true">> "I don't know how I did it and I'm not sure even why, but I was there," I started. "At the bar." Next to us, Milo froze. But this wasn't about him right now. Him and I would have our time later. "I know you just learned of her. I know that you're scared. And that's okay," I assured him. "$name is right," Milo started. He softened his gaze as he looked at Malcolm, shoving his own fears aside. "I don't know why I didn't tell you. The second I found out. I should have known she would pull this shit. Do something to keep Hazel from you." "You should have said a lot of things," Malcolm accused. But Milo didn't rise to the bait. "Yeah," he said softly. "I should have." His words were directed towards Malcolm, but his eyes were on me. I swallowed. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I, too, should have said something." He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I should have expected it. Especially with the things that are going on with Hazel. I thought that us not seeing each other was something else. Like me being a bad brother. Her not wanting to see me because of what happened at the ball. Or, that we were both being stubborn. Now it’s clear, Lucinda’s gotten to me. She fucking got to me somehow.”<</if>> “Mal,” Milo started carefully. <<if $miloro == "true">> He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the wall behind us, boxing both of us in together on the bed. <</if>> “I think she got to Hazel. She didn’t get to you. You are fastidious about that. You always have been. And yeah. That’s something we may all need to feel guilty for. ‘Cause we should have done better by her. But you’re safe, Mal. Lucinda can’t hurt you.” But Malcolm shook his head, barely listening to Milo’s reassurance. “I’ve lapsed. I was dead for so long. I missed something. She could have put something in my apartment before I even came back.” “She died when you were alive, Malcolm,” I ventured gently. “But she came back before I came home. She saw the writing on the wall. She had to.” Seeing that Malcolm wasn’t going to see reason, Milo changed tactics. “Then we’ll go to your apartment. We’ll get rid of all the food. We’ll look for talismans. Hell, get Bella down there. She obviously knows way more about the occult.” <<if $miloro == "true">> Sliding his hand down, he squeezed Malcolm’s shoulder. “$name and I would never let anything happen to you. You get that right?” The moment Milo said the words, he looked at me. His face fell. He was vowing something to Malcolm that he hadn’t been able to keep to me. The guilt was naked on his face.<</if>> Malcolm shot up, pacing the room, wringing his hands together. Milo stumbled back and I braced myself as the bed rocked back and forth. “How could you, Milo. How could you even open that book? You know her. You saw the abuse she threw at us. How could you allow her back?” [[Why did you decide to use Lucinda’s book?]] [[It was negligent]] [[Mal, he didn’t know…]] “What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “It was negligent, Milo. Anything dealing with Lucinda should have been buried along with her.” Milo began pacing the room. There was very little room but his body began moving back and forth, the sound of his breath becoming labored. “I knew there was a risk,” he said. “Of course I knew there was a risk. But I didn’t know what else to do? I had looked for other options. Looked for //years//. The grimoire wasn’t even something I had considered until we were getting down to the wire.” “And when you thought of it you didn’t immediately consider the fact that you were in over your head?” Malcolm asked. “You don’t know magic.” “I don’t know anything about being a Gatekeeper either,” he yelled. “Yet you gave me the damn responsibility.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “Malcolm, he didn’t know.” I found myself defending Milo in that moment. It was doubtful that Lucinda was Milo’s end goal. “Milo’s done a lot of things but he didn’t know Lucinda was going to come back.” In response, Milo was frozen, eyes wide in disbelief. “Mal, I would never have–” “Don’t,” Malcolm snapped. “You would have. If the situation were reversed, I even would have. Because it was to save Lamplight.” I looked over at Malcolm, confused. But the two men were exchanging a look. One that was a silent understanding between them. <<if $miloro == "true">> “Whether you knew it or not at the time, you were trying to save the one you loved.”<</if>> Milo looked down, breaking the hold Malcolm had over him and shifting away from me. He didn’t want to admit that Malcolm was right. The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” I needed him to say it. I needed him to tell me all the things he had never been able to. That he didn't trust to say outloud. “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out. Maybe it was in the strings of fate for Neve to say something like this to Milo.” Malcolm shook his head. “It’s not like that. I know thats ridiculous to say but I’m telling you, if what Milo is saying is true–” “It’s fucking true!” “If what he says is true, then Neve is not Fate. Or he wasn’t speaking to Neve at all.” It pained Malcolm to say it. Milo didn’t have a lot of good relationships in the world. He struggled to trust. He struggled to form long lasting bonds. Neve was one of his only good connections to childhood. And Malcolm was shattering the image. “Button, the Fate’s quite literally cannot speak of the future. They cannot influence what happens. If they do, they cease to exist.” “Then she figured out a loophole!” There was desperation in his voice. Milo //needed// this to be wrong. Because if it wasn’t, then what had he even been doing? “Oh Milo,” I said, feeling the world begin to spin. How long had this been happening? How many people had been manipulated? Milo simply stared at the two of us, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. We both saw it though. The tears began to fill his eyes while his hands started to tremble. “No,” he said, this time far more weakly. Malcolm bowed his head. “Shit,” he muttered. “Lucinda’s been playing with us from the beginning. She brought Lamplight here for her own gains.” He squeezed my hand harshly. “And she is going to stop at nothing to take this world from you.” “How would she even do that? What control would she have over the Fate’s?” “I don’t know. But she’s keeping you a construct. Cutting you off from your higher self. Taking the heart and distracting it within the market so the brain and all the power the rest of the world contains, is left to her.” I just sat there, staring. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. <<if $miloend == "true">> And yet... "Neve brought me down to see Malcolm," I stated numbly. "She was the one who brought me down to the pillars. It was there that I passed out. It kept me out of the shop." It was with dawning clarity just how designed that moment was intended to be. "That was the very night that Hazel brought back Mal. If I had been there when she was doing that spell, I would have stopped her." The blood that pooled beneath her that night, the way she could barely move, it still sent a roll of fear through me.<</if>> “We need to go see Neve,” Malcolm said. Milo slid down the wall, head in hands. I swallowed thickly, agreeing. “We need to go see Neve.” [[Chapter Five]]“Can Fate be corrupted?” I wanted to consider the option that Milo was right. That maybe there was a loophole or that someone had come along and done something out of the ordinary. A reason as to why any of this was taking place. “Everything can be corrupted,” Milo said. “But Neve wouldn’t have done this to me. She was practically a mother to me while growing up. The amount of times she fed me. Took me in. She wouldn’t have just done something like this.” “I don’t think you understand me, Button,” Malcolm said carefully. “The Fate’s quite literally cannot speak of the future. They cannot influence what happens. If they do, they cease to exist.” “Then she figured out a loophole!” There was desperation in his voice. Milo //needed// this to be wrong. Because if it wasn’t, then what had he even been doing? “Oh Milo,” I said, feeling the world begin to spin. How long had this been happening? How many people had been manipulated? Milo simply stared at the two of us, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. We both saw it though. The tears began to fill his eyes while his hands started to tremble. “No,” he said, this time far more weakly. Malcolm bowed his head. “Shit,” he muttered. “Lucinda’s been playing with us from the beginning. She brought Lamplight here for her own gains.” He squeezed my hand harshly. “And she is going to stop at nothing to take this world from you.” “How would she even do that? What control would she have over the Fate’s?” “I don’t know. But she’s keeping you a construct. Cutting you off from your higher self. Taking the heart and distracting it within the market so the brain and all the power the rest of the world contains, is left to her.” I just sat there, staring. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. <<if $miloend == "true">> And yet... "Neve brought me down to see Malcolm," I stated numbly. "She was the one who brought me down to the pillars. It was there that I passed out. It kept me out of the shop." It was with dawning clarity just how designed that moment was intended to be. "That was the very night that Hazel brought back Mal. If I had been there when she was doing that spell, I would have stopped her." The blood that pooled beneath her that night, the way she could barely move, it still sent a roll of fear through me.<</if>> “We need to go see Neve,” Malcolm said. Milo slid down the wall, head in hands. I swallowed thickly, agreeing. “We need to go see Neve.” [[Chapter Five]]“It’s been a setup since you two were young.” I felt like my stomach dropped from me. Like I was weighted down and unable to move. Most of my time here was spent incorporeal and yet I felt the entire weight of the world beginning to drag me down like an ever sinking anchor. “No,” Milo protested. I looked at him sadly as I watched the way he fought the truth. “No. That’s not it. I would have caught that. It’s Neve. She was practically a mother figure to me growing up. Got me out of more than one scrape. Took me in on the nights I had nowhere to go. She just made an exception.” “I don’t think you understand me, Button,” Malcolm said carefully. “The Fate’s quite literally cannot speak of the future. They cannot influence what happens. If they do, they cease to exist.” “Then she figured out a loophole!” There was desperation in his voice. Milo //needed// this to be wrong. Because if it wasn’t, then what had he even been doing? “Oh Milo,” I said, feeling the world begin to spin. How long had this been happening? How many people had been manipulated? Milo simply stared at the two of us, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. We both saw it though. The tears began to fill his eyes while his hands started to tremble. “No,” he said, this time far more weakly. Malcolm bowed his head. “Shit,” he muttered. “Lucinda’s been playing with us from the beginning. She brought Lamplight here for her own gains.” He squeezed my hand harshly. “And she is going to stop at nothing to take this world from you.” “How would she even do that? What control would she have over the Fate’s?” “I don’t know. But she’s keeping you a construct. Cutting you off from your higher self. Taking the heart and distracting it within the market so the brain and all the power the rest of the world contains, is left to her.” I just sat there, staring. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. <<if $miloend == "true">> And yet... "Neve brought me down to see Malcolm," I stated numbly. "She was the one who brought me down to the pillars. It was there that I passed out. It kept me out of the shop." It was with dawning clarity just how designed that moment was intended to be. "That was the very night that Hazel brought back Mal. If I had been there when she was doing that spell, I would have stopped her." The blood that pooled beneath her that night, the way she could barely move, it still sent a roll of fear through me.<</if>> “We need to go see Neve,” Malcolm said. Milo slid down the wall, head in hands. I swallowed thickly, agreeing. “We need to go see Neve.” [[Chapter Five]] I couldn’t really think of any of this right now. <<if $gabrieldrama == "true">> The bits of the market that had fallen into nothing. The dead bodies. The look in Gabriel’s eyes. The last thing I wanted to think about was Milo and forgiveness. <<elseif $hazeldrama == "true">> The black tar bubbling from the mouths of the dead. The tune that Hazel hummed. The way she screamed when she came back to herself. The last thing I wanted to think about was anything that had to do with Milo and forgiveness.<</if>> “Bring Malcolm back in,” I told Milo. “We all need to talk.” It was a testament to how tired he was as well that he simply turned and opened the door. Like I suspected, Malcolm hadn’t gone for. “Collect yourself?” Milo asked as Malcolm passed him. “Oh, you and I are going to have a long talk,” he murmured. “I’m so unbelievably pissed as you. But now is not the time.” “Look forward to it,” Milo said sullenly. The door closed and Milo stood by it. Meanwhile, Malcolm came over to sit next to me. Taking up the position as the steady force at my side. “Okay,” I started calmly. “We need to have some conversations. What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “That’ll be interesting to see,” I commented. If there was one thing I had learned from what Milo had done, is that when he put his mind to a goal, nothing really got in his way. I was curious what that would mean when applied to this version of groveling he had just committed to. “Bring Malcolm back in,” I told Milo. “We all need to talk.” It was a testament to how tired he was as well that he simply turned and opened the door. Like I suspected, Malcolm hadn’t gone for. “Collect yourself?” Milo asked as Malcolm passed him. “Oh, you and I are going to have a long talk,” he murmured. “I’m so unbelievably pissed as you. But now is not the time.” “Look forward to it,” Milo said sullenly. The door closed and Milo stood by it. Meanwhile, Malcolm came over to sit next to me. Taking up the position as the steady force at my side. “Okay,” I started calmly. “We need to have some conversations. What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “I trust that you will,” I told him. Because I did. Because Milo had made a mistake. And I could see it in everything he did. He felt the guilt of it and had no reference of how to even fix it. But he would. It would take time. It would be painful. But it would be fixed. And then we would have to figure out how he could forgive himself. “Bring Malcolm back in,” I told Milo. “We all need to talk.” It was a testament to how tired he was as well that he simply turned and opened the door. Like I suspected, Malcolm hadn’t gone for. “Collect yourself?” Milo asked as Malcolm passed him. “Oh, you and I are going to have a long talk,” he murmured. “I’m so unbelievably pissed as you. But now is not the time.” “Look forward to it,” Milo said sullenly. The door closed and Milo stood by it. Meanwhile, Malcolm came over to sit next to me. Taking up the position as the steady force at my side. “Okay,” I started calmly. “We need to have some conversations. What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “I’m not going to leave you alone in this.” It needed to be said. Malcolm dealt with a lot of things alone. But this was too big. Far too big for anyone. “You should,” he said softly. “I don’t want you anywhere near Lucinda.” “She’s coming for me specifically. I think that ship has sailed.” Malcolm smiled bitterly at that. Turning, he laid his forehead upon my shoulder. <<if $miloro == "true">> I felt his lips brush against my arm. So light that I almost didn’t believe it was there.<</if>> “Thank you,” he said. When he sat back up, my eyes ticked towards the door. “Go get Milo before he wanders off again,” I said. Malcolm scooted off the bed and went towards the door. Milo was sitting on the steps just outside. “You need a shower,” Malcolm said. Milo rolled his eyes as he stood. Muttering something about Malcolm being a fastidious bastard. When the door closed behind him, he leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, Malcolm came to sit back down by me. “Okay,” I started calmly. “We need to have some conversations. What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “We will call the Velvet Guard on her if we have to. There’s nothing that they hate more than someone using unsanctioned magic.” “As nice as that sentiment is, it’s been tried. They don’t do anything about her. They don’t even try anymore.” “Why?” Malcolm shrugged tiredly. “Self preservation? I stopped asking things about my mother a long time ago.” Sitting up, he sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m okay,” he told me. “We can get going with all this.” “You sure?” I asked, still worried. He nodded, slowly putting the pieces of himself back together. “Go get Milo before he wanders off again,” I said. Malcolm scooted off the bed and went towards the door. Milo was sitting on the steps just outside. “You need a shower,” Malcolm said. Milo rolled his eyes as he stood. Muttering something about Malcolm being a fastidious bastard. When the door closed behind him, he leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, Malcolm came to sit back down by me. “Okay,” I started calmly. “We need to have some conversations. What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] “Lucinda is not going to hurt you,” I told him, squeezing his hand. The undercurrent of fear that had sparked from the moment Malcolm knew his mother was back, was changing him. I could see it in the way he looked around. Trying to spy the exits. Any way that she might be able to weasel in. I couldn’t imagine what he had to go through to expect such a thing. But Lucinda wasn’t going to be allowed to carry on her abuse. She had her time. She was one of the examples of what is dead should stay dead. Turning, Malcolm laid his forehead upon my shoulder. <<if $miloro == "true">> I felt his lips brush against my arm. So light that I almost didn’t believe it was there.<</if>> “Thank you,” he said. When he sat back up, my eyes ticked towards the door. “Go get Milo before he wanders off again,” I said. Malcolm scooted off the bed and went towards the door. Milo was sitting on the steps just outside. “You need a shower,” Malcolm said. Milo rolled his eyes as he stood. Muttering something about Malcolm being a fastidious bastard. When the door closed behind him, he leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, Malcolm came to sit back down by me. “Okay,” I started calmly. “We need to have some conversations. What made you decide to even use Lucinda’s book in the first place,” I asked. I wanted to understand. There was a part of me that //needed// to understand his process far more. “Anything that has to do with the Night Market is going to require old magic,” he explained. “Old magic, the texts, the artifacts, they were all destroyed by the Velvet Guard. The little bits we have left in the world are hidden away. I did try to look for some other avenues but everything was a dead end. But Hazel had told me that she still kept Lucinda’s grimoire.” He looked sick at the memory. “I was down to the last two years before the end was supposed to begin. I didn’t feel like I had the option to continue searching when there was something so accessible in front of me.” The three of us sat there in silence, the weight of everything falling between us. It was feeling heavier and heavier. <<if $miloro == "true">>Like it was breaking us apart.<</if>> Loose tendrils of frayed problems kept unraveling further and further and each time we tried to reach out to grab one they just slipped through our fingers. “I did what I had to in that moment because we would all be dead otherwise,” Milo said softly. “But if I knew Lucinda was coming back I… I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have looked into it more. Or had more than this one track mind for the end game, no matter who was getting hurt.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. It had been a question on my mind since the moment it happened. “Even if you were tricked. Even if this was all a setup. Why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I was told not to,” he answered. When he looked at me, I could see it. Freckles plastered against a worn and drawn face. Eyes wide with emotion, twin flames burning within. “I was told that if I breathed a word about what was going to happen, then the death toll would be catastrophic. Those forces would conspire to halt everything. That I would not be successful and Hazel, Ever, Feebus…. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be responsible for their death. For //everyone's// death.” I frowned. “Who told you that you couldn’t say anything?” If he wasn’t supposed to talk, who was the other person in the conversation? “Taliesin?” “No. I’m not sure how he figured everything out. And I’m still not sure he even did. But I believed it. I wanted to believe it. Because then there was a reason why it all had gone bad. Why you came here the way you did.” <<if $miloro == "true">> His hands were shaking. He drummed his fingers against his thighs in that consistent effort to expel the thoughts swirling in his head. Eyes ticking towards the door, I knew he wanted distance. Milo never had been good at confrontation. Especially when he felt as if he were disappointing those who were important to him.<</if>> “Who told you not to tell, Milo,” I asked again. I wasn’t going to let him get out of it. “The fates.” “Why would the fates do that?” He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I went to Neve when I started figuring everything out. I talked to her, looking for answers. Hazel was completely lost in grief, I didn't fully understand what I was. But I knew what I was going to be faced with as a Gatekeeper. Neve became my confidant. I went to her time and time again. She guided me. When I brought the book to her and showed her what I thought might be our only option, she swore to me it would work. But on one condition. I couldn’t tell anyone.” “And you just believed her?” The incredulous tone that Malcolm shot towards him was enough for Milo’s eyes to snap up in anger.. “She’s one of the Fates, Malcolm. She knows the future. She pulls the strings. Why wouldn’t I believe her?” “Wait. Neve? The crone, correct?” I asked. I had met her. She had me follow her down into the room of the Fates. She was the one who put me back in contact with Malcolm. “Owns the kafe stand,” Milo said. “She’s trustworthy.” There was a flip in Malcolm’s eyes at that moment. As he listened to Milo, it was as if every little bit of hope that Malcolm had that Milo had a plan, wasn’t just a pawn in everything, it had simply died. The pieces were all beginning to pull together. Reaching out, I held Malcolm’s hand, feeling the rigidity of his bones. “Milo,” Malcolm started slowly. “The Fates don’t do that. They are not allowed to influence our decisions one way or another.” “She broke the rules for me,” Milo said. “I mean, she’s known me since I was a child. Since you were a child.” [[Maybe this was how it was supposed to play out]] [[Can Fate be corrupted]] [[It’s been a setup since you two were young]] I sat up a little in bed, bracing my hands on either side of me. “Bella, we have a lot bigger problems than Milo.” “That’s your opinion,” she said, glancing at me over her shoulder. “But I’m a bit biased at the moment. And given that you are clearly hurt, I’ll say that you may be under duress.” Milo kicked weakly, trying to release from her grasp. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> “Bella, I need you to put him down. There is something going on with Hazel. We need his help.” “An excuse,” she hissed. “No, Bella, please. I don’t understand all that happened yet but I cannot deal with getting a new Gatekeeper at this moment. Set him down and help us figure this all out.”<<elseif $gabreilbreak == "true">> “Bella, I need you to put him down. Gabriel is breaking apart. Something is going on with him. I need your help and I’m going to need his.” “We do not need him for anything,” she hissed. “Bella, please. I don’t understand all that is happening but I cannot deal with getting a new Gatekeeper along with all this. Set him down and help us figure this all out.”<</if>> It took her a moment, but she dropped him. Watching as he crumpled to the floor, coughing. Milo’s hands went to his throat to wipe away the blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?”<<elseif $platonic == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <</if>> “The spell that–” Malcolm started. Belladonna held up her hand. “I am not talking to you.” She turned and looked at Milo. “You. What is this?” He sat up, leaning against the wall. “It’s what brought $name down here the first time.” “And what did you think it would do?” Milo knew he was playing with fire and was choosing his words carefully. “It was supposed to bring a piece of the Night Market down as a construct that could be sacrificed in order to put the energy back into the market’s complete being. It would then close the holes that have been created due to the opening of gates.” “The gates the gatekeeper has opened,” she demanded. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “The ones that Night Market opened. The ones that kept getting opened to save people like me. Like you. The ‘heart’ of the market was doing it. And it was killing ?them.” Belladonna’s jaw twitched as her face went back to its normal shape. She looked back down at the book once more, nails scraping across the letters. “And you read this? You performed the spell?” “Yes.” There was silence as we held our breath, watching as she read and reread the same passage several times. When she finally snapped the book shut, we all jumped. “You’re a fucking idiot.” Her heels clicked across the floor towards him again as Milo scrambled up the wall and flinched at her approach. “Do you have any background in magic? Do you know how to read ancient texts?” “I know enough,” he protested. “Obviously you do not. Because this?” She held up the book. “That spell? It isn’t to close the gates of the market, Milo. It’s to use that same energy to open a gate. A very specific gate. A gate, that most likely, brought one of the most feared witches of our time, back to life.” Milo began shaking his head. “No. I referenced it. I cross referenced it. I had others read it.” “It’s an encrypted text. Every third word is taken and put into a cipher. One that is not written down anywhere and that has to be taught orally. Have you memorized that, Milo? Did you seek anyone out that memorized that?” He balked. “No.” “No. You haven’t.” She shoved the book towards him, slapping it against his chest. “Congratulations. You wanted to save the world? You probably just ended it.” [[Next|Chapter Four 3]] I tried to sit up in bed, feeling my body scream in protest. Months had been spent trying to find him. To avenge me. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> She had tried to burn down the market to get to him.<</if>> I had little doubt that she had been tracking my movements to see when he was going to pop up again and now that he did, she wouldn’t leave until he was a trophy on her wall. “Bella, no!” I cried out at my wounds pulled and my head began to spin. There wasn’t even a flicker on her face. As I cried out in pain, she didn’t stop. She didn’t want to listen. The blood was soaking her hand and Milo’s eyes were growing heavy. If she held on even a moment longer, she would get her wish. "Bella, please," I gasped out. There had to of been something in my voice that got through to her. Or perhaps she felt Malcolm at her back. With effort, she dropped Milo to the floor. Watching as he crumpled to the floor, coughing. Milo’s hands went to his throat to wipe away the blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?”<<elseif $platonic == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <</if>> “The spell that–” Malcolm started. Belladonna held up her hand. “I am not talking to you.” She turned and looked at Milo. “You. What is this?” He sat up, leaning against the wall. “It’s what brought $name down here the first time.” “And what did you think it would do?” Milo knew he was playing with fire and was choosing his words carefully. “It was supposed to bring a piece of the Night Market down as a construct that could be sacrificed in order to put the energy back into the market’s complete being. It would then close the holes that have been created due to the opening of gates.” “The gates the gatekeeper has opened,” she demanded. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “The ones that Night Market opened. The ones that kept getting opened to save people like me. Like you. The ‘heart’ of the market was doing it. And it was killing ?them.” Belladonna’s jaw twitched as her face went back to its normal shape. She looked back down at the book once more, nails scraping across the letters. “And you read this? You performed the spell?” “Yes.” There was silence as we held our breath, watching as she read and reread the same passage several times. When she finally snapped the book shut, we all jumped. “You’re a fucking idiot.” Her heels clicked across the floor towards him again as Milo scrambled up the wall and flinched at her approach. “Do you have any background in magic? Do you know how to read ancient texts?” “I know enough,” he protested. “Obviously you do not. Because this?” She held up the book. “That spell? It isn’t to close the gates of the market, Milo. It’s to use that same energy to open a gate. A very specific gate. A gate, that most likely, brought one of the most feared witches of our time, back to life.” Milo began shaking his head. “No. I referenced it. I cross referenced it. I had others read it.” “It’s an encrypted text. Every third word is taken and put into a cipher. One that is not written down anywhere and that has to be taught orally. Have you memorized that, Milo? Did you seek anyone out that memorized that?” He balked. “No.” “No. You haven’t.” She shoved the book towards him, slapping it against his chest. “Congratulations. You wanted to save the world? You probably just ended it.” [[Next|Chapter Four 3]] I watched the scene play out, watching as she manhandled Milo like he was nothing more than a rag. Part of me wondered if I should stop her but the other part of me, knew that she needed this. Everything that had transpired was shrouded in such a hazy fog of misunderstanding and several wrong turns. I couldn’t exactly blame her for her feelings. Part of me felt them as well. “Get off me,” Milo tried to say but it came out far more garbled. “Get off you?” Her grin was wide and monstrous. “Not even going to try to defend yourself? Pity. I was looking forward to hearing you squeal.” There was a tightness around Malcolm’s eyes as he stepped forward. I didn’t know how or why, but I trust him to take care of this. There would be no new Gatekeeper today. I didn’t know if I would have let it get that far. Malcolm stormed up to her, trying to place himself between her and Milo. “We didn’t call you here for a confrontation. We called you because we needed help. We have my mothers grimoire. We need you to look at it. Not kill him. $name needs you to give answers.” Belladonna’s head ticked to the side, her eyes bloody and her face elongated as she stared at Milo through a monster's eyes. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> “Is this true, dear heart? Is this your wish?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “Is this true, dear heart? Is this your wish?” I locked eyes with her, seeing what no one else could. She had been waiting so long to get her hands on Milo. To kill him on my behalf. But today, this moment, was not going to be that day. “We have a problem,” I told her.<</if>> She dropped him to the floor, watching as he crumpled, coughing. Milo’s hands went to his throat to wipe away the blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>Walking across the room she stopped by my bed, leaning down to place her finger beneath my chin. Her eyes widened in surprise as momentarily, her finger made contact with my skin. She tried not to look disappointed when that barrier slipped away. “Are you alright, my heart?” she whispered. “I am,” I told her. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She had a small smile. One only for me. It was gone as soon as she straightened, her eyes wandering towards Lucinda’s book and the page it was open to. “What is this?” <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <<elseif $miloro == "true">> Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?”<<elseif $platonic == "true">>Walking across the floor, Belladonna spied the book on the bed. Her eyes flickered back and forth from red to gold as she searched the page, tracing over the rust colored words. She picked it up, her eyes chasing over the words. “What is this?” <</if>> “The spell that–” Malcolm started. Belladonna held up her hand. “I am not talking to you.” She turned and looked at Milo. “You. What is this?” He sat up, leaning against the wall. “It’s what brought $name down here the first time.” “And what did you think it would do?” Milo knew he was playing with fire and was choosing his words carefully. “It was supposed to bring a piece of the Night Market down as a construct that could be sacrificed in order to put the energy back into the market’s complete being. It would then close the holes that have been created due to the opening of gates.” “The gates the gatekeeper has opened,” she demanded. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “The ones that Night Market opened. The ones that kept getting opened to save people like me. Like you. The ‘heart’ of the market was doing it. And it was killing ?them.” Belladonna’s jaw twitched as her face went back to its normal shape. She looked back down at the book once more, nails scraping across the letters. “And you read this? You performed the spell?” “Yes.” There was silence as we held our breath, watching as she read and reread the same passage several times. When she finally snapped the book shut, we all jumped. “You’re a fucking idiot.” Her heels clicked across the floor towards him again as Milo scrambled up the wall and flinched at her approach. “Do you have any background in magic? Do you know how to read ancient texts?” “I know enough,” he protested. “Obviously you do not. Because this?” She held up the book. “That spell? It isn’t to close the gates of the market, Milo. It’s to use that same energy to open a gate. A very specific gate. A gate, that most likely, brought one of the most feared witches of our time, back to life.” Milo began shaking his head. “No. I referenced it. I cross referenced it. I had others read it.” “It’s an encrypted text. Every third word is taken and put into a cipher. One that is not written down anywhere and that has to be taught orally. Have you memorized that, Milo? Did you seek anyone out that memorized that?” He balked. “No.” “No. You haven’t.” She shoved the book towards him, slapping it against his chest. “Congratulations. You wanted to save the world? You probably just ended it.” [[Next|Chapter Four 3]] Two things became immediately apparent at once. We needed to speak to Neve in order to get to the bottom of whatever was happening to the market, and we needed to seek out Gabriel, to find out whatever was happening to the guard. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Or, more accurately, to see what was happening to him. Compared to his state of mind, I didn’t have a lot of care to put towards the Velvet Guard. Knowing what Gabriel was now capable of was far more on my mind. But the Fates…. If any member of the Fates was corrupt, if even an ounce of what Milo said was true, I needed to deal with that as well. Once more, I was split in two, expected to be in too many places at once. And while I wanted to run to Gabriel and show him I was okay, tell him that I would help him with whatever betrayal his mind was putting him through, I knew it was not an option I had at the moment.<</if>> Word was that the streets were slowly closing down. Entire sections of the market were being cut off and civilians were told to go back to their homes, thus emptying the already abandoned streets. The decision of where my efforts should lie was made for me by this simple fact alone. That, and I had no idea where Gabriel was at this moment. But Neve, we had a pretty good beat on. “I’m not lying,” Milo was trying to say. “I can’t lie. You both know that now.” “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go confirm the story,” Malcolm intoned back. The three of us were walking down the streets, side by side. Milo had slowly been falling into a process of understanding in which he was coming to terms with the idea that all may not be what he perceived it to be. A place I had already been firmly rooted in and one in which he had pulled most of the strings. Yet, someone else was his puppeteer. “Neve wouldn’t do this to me,” he was whispering, hands shoved deep in his pockets. One of his palms was wrapped with a handkerchief. At some point, when he had left the chapel to gather himself, he had wound up hurt. I knew I needed to ask but with everything going on, it felt like the last thing to take precedence. Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I could see the furrow in his brow and the deep rebellion that came with someone he loved deluding him all along. We had to climb over a blown out wall to get to the next district, weaving under stone that had formed itself into braided tree branches. Malcolm reached out, helping me through the narrow gap between the reforming walls, neither of us quite trusting when they gave an ominous creak. Coming out on the other side, I looked around, feeling an odd familiarity settle in my stomach. Behind me, Milo was climbing through, still muttering to himself, unaware of the shock written across my face. “Where are we?” I whispered, eyes catching on a pale blue strip of canvas. It was caught at the edge of a pile of rubble, flapping in the breeze that was meandering through the streets. “Spice District,” Milo said, already carving his way ahead. The ragged awnings that used to protect the stalls lining the streets were nothing more than tattered strips now stomped into the ground. They lay, dirty and wet, in some reminder of a life that had once filled these alleyways. The world was nothing more than a ghost town. A place where people hid. Where families pretended they didn’t exist. The community's back was to the world and they were forced to look towards a bleak horizon where the end of their life continued to loom. Even Malcolm looked startled by the revelation. The plumes of steam that rumbled up from closed woks was nothing more than a forgotten memory whispering in only the darkest corners. I could still hear the clank of utensils. Wooden spoons rapping against the cedar beams. The calls of the workers as they yelled out to each other. And then nothing. I noticed that Milo had stopped. Upon realizing that neither of us were following him, he paused to allow us time to process. But, he couldn’t look at the world that had been created. His old stomping grounds were destroyed for reasons he no longer understood. [[Where did everyone go?]] [[I thought this place wouldn’t be touched]] [[Why is no one trying to rebuild?]] “Where did everyone go?” I asked. There had been so many people here once. Hundreds of individuals of every race and creed, wandering through the stalls and munching on the wares that were offered. I had considered it the heart of the market once. The embodiment of what I wanted this world to be. When Milo didn’t answer, I turned to look at him fully. He didn’t know. No one did. But we could infer. And suddenly the big swaths of graveyard that I saw with freshly turned dirt, made a lot more sense. So many had died because of that night. Because of actions meant to save the world. Save me. There was a strange sense of irony infused with it all that I had brought so many here to keep safe, and yet in the process, had killed them all. I felt guilty. I was the one fighting back and I wasn’t even sure why. But it was me. A part of me at least. The idea that I was so out of control that I couldn’t even dictate the actions of my own mind, was a complicated feeling to process. Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep myself under control. The walls around me twitched, as if reacting to my thoughts. “Give it time,” Malcolm soothed. “There might just need to be an adjustment period.” “And people will die during the process,” Milo muttered. He kicked at the rocks beneath his boots. The fact that the one place he had considered home was in such shambles, weighed heavy on him. There was nothing he could do and that didn’t sit right. [[Could they move districts?]] [[You tried to help?]] [[Has anything like this ever happened before?]] <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Reach out and take his hand]]<</if>>“I thought this place wouldn’t be touched.” It was a strange sentiment to have, really. Why would this place be considered safe over all the others? No one area deserved to be spared above anyone else and yet it never had crossed my mind that the thriving beauty of one of the first places I had walked into so long ago, would just be gone. “It’ll be back,” Milo said. “It has to be.” There was a question at the end of that sentence. The market would have to be rebuilt, eventually. But it may never be the same. Signs of the past were written all over the market. I had seen it before. The way the color of the walls would change. The slight remnants of an old stall. A district that had been different once. It wasn’t unheard of for the market to change. But I didn’t know if it had ever been to this degree. To this kind of desolation. “Give it time,” Malcolm soothed. “There might just need to be an adjustment period.” “And people will die during the process,” Milo muttered. He kicked at the rocks beneath his boots. The fact that the one place he had considered home was in such shambles, weighed heavy on him. There was nothing he could do and that didn’t sit right. [[Could they move districts?]] [[You tried to help?]] [[Has anything like this ever happened before?]] <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Reach out and take his hand]]<</if>>“I don’t understand,” I said softly. “Why is no one trying to rebuild?” The alleys between districts I understood. They were the last on a priority list after a storm. But the Spice District was at the heart of this realm. It was the place where families came together. Food was exchanged. Comfort was given. To see it dismantled as if it were nothing was a harrowing sight that I couldn’t comprehend. “They can’t,” Milo said. Malcolm glanced over to him. “Why do you say that?” Hesitation washed over him as his eyes ticked towards me. “The market keeps rebelling,” he explained. Meaning, I was rebelling. “There were efforts. I watched them. Tried to help a few times. But the walls would dismantle everything that individuals tried to install. The things they built were destroyed. As if the world was trying to fight back.” I felt guilty. I was the one fighting back and I wasn’t even sure why. But it was me. A part of me at least. The idea that I was so out of control that I couldn’t even dictate the actions of my own mind, was a complicated feeling to process. Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep myself under control. The walls around me twitched, as if reacting to my thoughts. “Give it time,” Malcolm soothed. “There might just need to be an adjustment period.” “And people will die during the process,” Milo muttered. He kicked at the rocks beneath his boots. The fact that the one place he had considered home was in such shambles, weighed heavy on him. There was nothing he could do and that didn’t sit right. [[Could they move districts?]] [[You tried to help?]] [[Has anything like this ever happened before?]] <<if $miloro == "true">>[[Reach out and take his hand]]<</if>> I reached out and tried to take his hand, my fingers passing through his own with a chill. I hadn’t even thought about how I wouldn’t have connected. How we were destined to pass through each other time and time again until we learned from our mistakes. It didn’t make sense to me. I could touch Malcolm. I was almost positive I had passing glances with Sawyer. Turner. Kimber and Iblis. I knew that Victor had been able to touch me as well. So why not Milo. He looked down, watching how my fingers danced through his. When he raised his eyes to me, a question that he didn’t dare ask lingered there. “The way down to the Fates is blocked,” Malcolm’s voice came through. He was standing by a pile of burned pillars and cracked boards. The wall had tried to run through it and had met resistance. It had fallen into rubble, veering a sharp right and building itself up towards the stars. “I’ll move it.” Milo set about moving the thick beams, tossing his jacket aside to push aside the wood. He hissed a little, staring at the wood. “Some are still hot.” “Maybe the cave in is new?” I suggested. Milo shook his head. “Spice District was one of the first to get hit. Everything should be calmed down by now. No one even comes here anymore.” “Are we sure the Fate’s are still down there?” Malcolm asked. He was crouched down, examining the burning lumber. “If not the Fates then the pillars.” Grabbing some of the ripped canvas, Milo wrapped it around his hands, beginning to toss the beams out of the way. Malcolm did the same. I stepped over, helping them. <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a brief moment of frustration on Milo’s face when he realized that I could touch the beams without incident. Moving them as if they were nothing<</if>> Together, we all worked, clearing that way to the unassuming staircase that led down to the Fates. Neve had been the first who had brought me here. She had walked me down these stairs where I saw the Baron’s pillars, the likes of which were swirling with magic. It was here that I had first met Malcolm. Properly, at least. Where every question I had leading up to that moment had suddenly become clear. To entertain the idea that it was all a ruse was a betrayal all in itself. “You sure you want to go down there, Lamplight?” Malcolm asked. Milo jerked open the door, coughing at the dust that swirled around us. “We need answers,” I said. “And technically, the Fates are one of my Barons. That’s got to still mean something.” Rolling up his sleeves, Milo grabbed a few keys from his pockets. They clinked in the palm of his hand. “I’ll go first.” “Don’t you use those, Milo,” Malcolm warned. Milo waved him off irritably as we began to descend. [[Next|Chapter Five 1]] “Could the Spice District move somewhere else?” If this portion of the district was lost, there might be an opportunity to rebuild elsewhere. To start anew. It wouldn’t be unheard of and maybe I was just clinging to some sort of hope to make the sorrow of the situation better. But I didn’t want to see this place lost to history. “They will,” Malcolm told me, quietly surveying the world around us. “There is an amazing capacity for individuals to rise up after heartache. This area will be no different.” “There it is. That Albright optimism.” I couldn’t tell if Milo missed it or was mocking it. His head was bent however as he stuck closer to me. He didn’t want to look at the world we had created. “The way down to the Fates is blocked,” Malcolm’s voice came through. He was standing by a pile of burned pillars and cracked boards. The wall had tried to run through it and had met resistance. It had fallen into rubble, veering a sharp right and building itself up towards the stars. “I’ll move it.” Milo set about moving the thick beams, tossing his jacket aside to push aside the wood. He hissed a little, staring at the wood. “Some are still hot.” “Maybe the cave in is new?” I suggested. Milo shook his head. “Spice District was one of the first to get hit. Everything should be calmed down by now. No one even comes here anymore.” “Are we sure the Fate’s are still down there?” Malcolm asked. He was crouched down, examining the burning lumber. “If not the Fates then the pillars.” Grabbing some of the ripped canvas, Milo wrapped it around his hands, beginning to toss the beams out of the way. Malcolm did the same. I stepped over, helping them. <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a brief moment of frustration on Milo’s face when he realized that I could touch the beams without incident. Moving them as if they were nothing<</if>> Together, we all worked, clearing that way to the unassuming staircase that led down to the Fates. Neve had been the first who had brought me here. She had walked me down these stairs where I saw the Baron’s pillars, the likes of which were swirling with magic. It was here that I had first met Malcolm. Properly, at least. Where every question I had leading up to that moment had suddenly become clear. To entertain the idea that it was all a ruse was a betrayal all in itself. “You sure you want to go down there, Lamplight?” Malcolm asked. Milo jerked open the door, coughing at the dust that swirled around us. “We need answers,” I said. “And technically, the Fates are one of my Barons. That’s got to still mean something.” Rolling up his sleeves, Milo grabbed a few keys from his pockets. They clinked in the palm of his hand. “I’ll go first.” “Don’t you use those, Milo,” Malcolm warned. Milo waved him off irritably as we began to descend. [[Next|Chapter Five 1]] “You tried to help them?” I asked. I knew after Lucinda had burnt down the alley, Milo had gone into the apothecary and ripped apart every little piece of the woman. Making that home Hazel’s with his own hands. I imagined him doing that here as well. “Tried is the optimum word here. Can’t do much though when you are a wanted man.” There was a bitterness to his voice. Belladonna’s call for his head was not something to take lightly. “The way down to the Fates is blocked,” Malcolm’s voice came through. He was standing by a pile of burned pillars and cracked boards. The wall had tried to run through it and had met resistance. It had fallen into rubble, veering a sharp right and building itself up towards the stars. “I’ll move it.” Milo set about moving the thick beams, tossing his jacket aside to push aside the wood. He hissed a little, staring at the wood. “Some are still hot.” “Maybe the cave in is new?” I suggested. Milo shook his head. “Spice District was one of the first to get hit. Everything should be calmed down by now. No one even comes here anymore.” “Are we sure the Fate’s are still down there?” Malcolm asked. He was crouched down, examining the burning lumber. “If not the Fates then the pillars.” Grabbing some of the ripped canvas, Milo wrapped it around his hands, beginning to toss the beams out of the way. Malcolm did the same. I stepped over, helping them. <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a brief moment of frustration on Milo’s face when he realized that I could touch the beams without incident. Moving them as if they were nothing<</if>> Together, we all worked, clearing that way to the unassuming staircase that led down to the Fates. Neve had been the first who had brought me here. She had walked me down these stairs where I saw the Baron’s pillars, the likes of which were swirling with magic. It was here that I had first met Malcolm. Properly, at least. Where every question I had leading up to that moment had suddenly become clear. To entertain the idea that it was all a ruse was a betrayal all in itself. “You sure you want to go down there, Lamplight?” Malcolm asked. Milo jerked open the door, coughing at the dust that swirled around us. “We need answers,” I said. “And technically, the Fates are one of my Barons. That’s got to still mean something.” Rolling up his sleeves, Milo grabbed a few keys from his pockets. They clinked in the palm of his hand. “I’ll go first.” “Don’t you use those, Milo,” Malcolm warned. Milo waved him off irritably as we began to descend. [[Next|Chapter Five 1]] “Has anything like this ever happened before? To this extent at least?” The market changed. It ebbed and flowed with time. But the full rebellion of the walls, the likes of which were breaking down people’s lives, felt unprecedented. “I don’t know,” Malcolm told me. “I wouldn’t even know where to look to find out.” Milo cleared his throat, kicking at the rocks beneath his feet. “It’s happened before. Or, I think it did. There are some old paintings I found down in the ruins. They depict the lanterns going out. But there was nothing else to it. Could have just been some sort of drawing.” I stared at Milo steadily. Had he been trying to find answers? “The way down to the Fates is blocked,” Malcolm’s voice came through. He was standing by a pile of burned pillars and cracked boards. The wall had tried to run through it and had met resistance. It had fallen into rubble, veering a sharp right and building itself up towards the stars. “I’ll move it.” Milo set about moving the thick beams, tossing his jacket aside to push aside the wood. He hissed a little, staring at the wood. “Some are still hot.” “Maybe the cave in is new?” I suggested. Milo shook his head. “Spice District was one of the first to get hit. Everything should be calmed down by now. No one even comes here anymore.” “Are we sure the Fate’s are still down there?” Malcolm asked. He was crouched down, examining the burning lumber. “If not the Fates then the pillars.” Grabbing some of the ripped canvas, Milo wrapped it around his hands, beginning to toss the beams out of the way. Malcolm did the same. I stepped over, helping them. <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a brief moment of frustration on Milo’s face when he realized that I could touch the beams without incident. Moving them as if they were nothing<</if>> Together, we all worked, clearing that way to the unassuming staircase that led down to the Fates. Neve had been the first who had brought me here. She had walked me down these stairs where I saw the Baron’s pillars, the likes of which were swirling with magic. It was here that I had first met Malcolm. Properly, at least. Where every question I had leading up to that moment had suddenly become clear. To entertain the idea that it was all a ruse was a betrayal all in itself. “You sure you want to go down there, Lamplight?” Malcolm asked. Milo jerked open the door, coughing at the dust that swirled around us. “We need answers,” I said. “And technically, the Fates are one of my Barons. That’s got to still mean something.” Rolling up his sleeves, Milo grabbed a few keys from his pockets. They clinked in the palm of his hand. “I’ll go first.” “Don’t you use those, Milo,” Malcolm warned. Milo waved him off irritably as we began to descend. [[Next|Chapter Five 1]] The passage was longer than I remembered. It wound down in a half spiral where the air became damp the further we went. I could hear the distant sounds of magic crackling through the echo chamber. It bashed against various threads of enchantment in a chaotic war sending small shockwaves through the stone. Milo kept ahead of us, as per his declaration, while Malcolm came up behind me. Occasionally I would glance back, as if I was afraid he would no longer be there. He gave me a reassuring smile each time as we continued our descent. I didn’t know how we reached the bottom without incident. The only light that guided us was the dim glow from Milo’s eyes. But when we stepped on a flat surface, Milo raised his hand to stop us. Through the pitch of the chamber, I managed to make out the shadowed outline of his own hand as it reached for something. A moment later, a torch was lit, flooding the room with a warm and crackling glow. The cavern was different from the last time I was here. A long and never ending hallway loomed before us. Milo touched one of the unlit torches with his own and one by one they began lighting the way, turning around a corner and disappearing from sight. It reminded me far more of Odin’s domain than the Fate’s. “What has happened to all the Barons? Have they even addressed the lights going out?” The Barons were never ones to ostentatiously declare their presence through the market but they felt strangely absent now. Like they were hiding. Or perhaps, so bogged down by the life they now had to control that they had no time for anything else. Little bits of flare that I had always assigned to them had been omnipresent before the lanterns' demise. Now I saw nothing but rubble. “I don’t know,” Milo called back to us. His voice echoed slightly in the damp chamber. “I can’t say I’ve gone to any of the Baron meetings. Never had a desire to. Though, it was discouraged for the Gatekeeper.” “It shouldn’t be,” Malcolm intoned. “Less secrecy behind the role and maybe we’d have some honesty in this market. Not to mention we’d do away with the bullshit politics that do nothing but keep the elite rolling in their own desire for adulation.” The firelight settled around us, steadying in small pools beneath each of the torches. “Well, you can go as my proxy next meeting and talk all about it.” [[Do you think you two even could work together]] [[Gatekeepers should remain secret]] [[That’s not a bad idea]]“Do you think you two could work together?” It was a genuine question. The solitary role of the Gatekeeper, or any Baron, for that matter, didn’t work. For what might have been the first time, we were presented with an opportunity. The old Gatekeepers passed along their power through death. But as far as I knew, Malcolm was the first Gatekeeper to have come back. Milo may have had the current role but Malcolm seemed to have far more knowledge. If there was a world where the two of them could work together, it may have been worth exploring. They were both suspiciously silent. Milo was walking straight ahead, either not having heard the question or blatantly ignoring it. Malcolm, despite being at my side, was avoiding my gaze. I shook my head at the two of them. “You two are going to need to handle this. I’m not saying it as $name but I am saying it as someone who is concerned for this world. You two working together might be the best scenario and I think you both should look into it.” “We’ve worked together before,” Milo said. “And then I got stabbed,” Malcolm muttered. <<if $miloro == "true">> I had forgotten that small detail. A story I had never gotten the full scope of. But history had a funny way of repeating itself until the individual learned their lesson.<</if>> The second Malcolm uttered the words something uncomfortable settled across him. Like he hadn’t meant to say it. There was a sense of shame that came with those words. I reached out, taking the torch from Milo. <<if $miloro == "true">>I could almost feel his skin ghosting against my own. <</if>> “When was the last Baron meeting?” I asked. “Don’t know. I don’t get the messages.” I made a mental note to ask Belladonna about it. What I wouldn’t give to sit in during any one of the current meetings between the nine of them. What had they even been saying in recent months? Did they even have a plan to save the market or were they all jumping ship, considering this place to be a lost cause. “Do you two hear that?” Malcolm had taken a few steps in front of us, looking down the bend in the hall. As Milo and I stopped talking, something filtered towards us. Soft weeping like the sound of running water, trickled down the hall. [[Next|Chapter Five 2]]“The role of the Gatekeeper should remain secret,” I said. “For safety, at the very least. It’s too big of a job.” “It’s a job that shouldn’t belong to one person,” Malcolm responded in frustration. “To think that one person should be responsible for the gateways allowing us access to the different worlds is negligent. On top of that, the way we pass on the roles is ridiculous. People that are ill equipped for the job suddenly have the power of the world in the palm of their hands. Most of them are undeserving.” Milo snorted, looking over his shoulder. “Tell us what you really think, Mal.” Malcolm narrowed his eyes at him. “You really believe that you should be the Gatekeeper, Milo? Given what you’ve learned in the last decade, do you think that you were adequately prepared when you got the role?” “That’s a different story altogether. Of course I wasn’t. But you were the one that gave it to me. You did this.” There was no malice in his voice. Instead, it seemed as if Milo was simply over whatever plight had been given to him. Tired of the rules of the Night Market. Perhaps even tired of the market itself. “It may be a conversation worth exploring,” I told the two of them gently, not allowing their past to take control of the conversation. I reached out, taking the torch from Milo. <<if $miloro == "true">>I could almost feel his skin ghosting against my own. <</if>> “When was the last Baron meeting?” I asked. “Don’t know. I don’t get the messages.” I made a mental note to ask Belladonna about it. What I wouldn’t give to sit in during any one of the current meetings between the nine of them. What had they even been saying in recent months? Did they even have a plan to save the market or were they all jumping ship, considering this place to be a lost cause. “Do you two hear that?” Malcolm had taken a few steps in front of us, looking down the bend in the hall. As Milo and I stopped talking, something filtered towards us. Soft weeping like the sound of running water, trickled down the hall. [[Next|Chapter Five 2]]“It’s not a bad idea,” I told the two of them. “The roles of all the Barons might need to change. Starting with a conversation between everyone. Anyone that doesn’t want to join us in this new era of the Night Market, may need to resign.” Malcolm fell into step beside me. “Agreed. I think they know it too. The book Barons are MIA. Kamille has shut the Deep off and isn’t speaking to anyone. She considers the Night Market lost. Harbor Master has always been quiet but is apparently keeping the order down by the pier. The Dollmaker has sequestered away him and his own to make Doll Land. And Odin has fortified his walls for the chaos that is outside his door.” “None of them have done a damn thing to help what’s going on,” Milo supplied, having stopped to wait for the two of us. “Not even Belladonna.” <<if $belladonnaro == "true">> “Can you blame her? “I don’t really blame any of them. Just commenting.” Somewhat bitterly, from what I could gather. Though, that bitterness seemed to be under the plight of the responsibility that had been put on all of them.<</if>> I reached out, taking the torch from Milo. <<if $miloro == "true">>I could almost feel his skin ghosting against my own. <</if>> “When was the last Baron meeting?” I asked. “Don’t know. I don’t get the messages.” I made a mental note to ask Belladonna about it. What I wouldn’t give to sit in during any one of the current meetings between the nine of them. What had they even been saying in recent months? Did they even have a plan to save the market or were they all jumping ship, considering this place to be a lost cause. “Do you two hear that?” Malcolm had taken a few steps in front of us, looking down the bend in the hall. As Milo and I stopped talking, something filtered towards us. Soft weeping like the sound of running water, trickled down the hall. [[Next|Chapter Five 2]] The cries did not change in volume as we walked down the hall. Instead, they seemed to live inside the walls. Weaving into the foundation with a multitude of sadness that had accumulated through the generations. “Milo, is this the same way you took to get to the Fates before?” Because it certainly wasn’t the same way I had taken. He pondered the question for a few minutes, sifting through ten years of memories and meetings. “I’ve been this way before,” he said. “But I also remember another way that led to the pillar room. It was a lot shorter.” That was more in line with what I had experienced, and as we continued to walk down the hall, I couldn’t help but continue to get snagged on that detail. Of course it wasn’t unheard of to have the walls change in this realm. Who knew what time we were even walking in. But my gut said otherwise. It said that this was not meant to be different. Or maybe the time before was not meant to be different. When the door finally revealed itself, it was several torches down and inside of an archway. It looked as if it had been scratched from the inside. The trim embedded with deep rivers of finger marks. Tentatively, we stepped through. The Baron pillars stood around the small and placid pool. It was dried up now, the bottom of the basin nothing more than a few drops of blue upon the stone. Sitting on the dried lip was a woman. Dark hair cascaded down her back in a frayed braid, while her dress flowed down the lines of her body like tears. As we walked in the room, she looked up. Her eyes were red rimmed and face streaked. She fell to her knees, head bowing to the ground. “Night Market,” she gasped. “Oh, Night Market. Save us. Please, you have to save us.” Her weeping echoed around us in several different voices, all of which called out to me like the different realms always had before. Slowly, I walked forward, bending at the knees to look at her. The Maiden. The one who had been here when I had woken up. Ariel, from what I remembered. “How long have you been trapped down here?” I asked. Ariel was shaking, hands gripping at the skirts of her dress. “I don’t know. Since you have fallen?” A sob broke through as she began rocking back and forth. Malcolm stepped forward, placing his jacket across her shoulders as he knelt by their side. “Where’s Neve?” Milo asked, still standing near the door. The lines of his face had hardened, any attempt at empathy bleeding away. I looked back at him, eyes narrowing “Could you give her a minute?” “Why?” he asked. “We came down here for Neve. Let’s just cut to the chase.” “N-neve? I– Oh. Yes. My older sister.” There was something in her eyes. A glazed kind of look. “She’s not here. I don’t know where she’s been. I assumed she got trapped on the outside. Me and the little one have been trying to get out but no one heard our screams.” Milo’s boot scraped against the ground. I was almost certain he was going to turn and bolt. In a manic search for the woman who helped raise him if only so he could demand she tell the truth. Shed light on his own story. “We have some questions for her,” I explained. “We were hoping she could clear a few things up.” Ariel sat up a little straighter, pulling Malcolm’s coat tighter around her. “I don’t think she can.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because Neve doesn’t speak.” They were the kind of words that made sense in their own right but when said out loud felt utterly ridiculous. Each individual in the room had heard Neve speak. Multiple times, in fact. Yet this sudden declaration was weaving the image that was starting to form in a sticky web of mistruths that were threatening to change us all. [[That’s not my experience]] [[Can Neve communicate in other ways?]] [[When is the last time you saw Neve?]]“That’s not my experience,” I told her. I had spoken to Neve a few times. The kafe stand she ran was one of the hotspots of the Spice District. I had even sat at her counter while she served other customers. “I’m sorry?” Ariel looked genuinely confused, her head still muddled from her tears. “I don’t want to cause any problems with you, Night Market. It is not my place to. I believe you.” “No,” I said quickly. For the ones who knew who I was, there was a certain obedience that followed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. “No, it’s not a matter of… I don’t think you are lying. I’m just saying that the stories don’t match up.” “Please,” Ariel whispered. “I don’t want any trouble. We learned from our mistakes.” I startled a bit. “What?” Her eyes averted downwards, her lips pinching together as if she realized she had said too much. "Neve is a good woman," Ariel was saying. "She takes care of me and the little one. Whatever she's done, it must be a mistake. Please. This all must just be a mistake." The little one. I had forgotten that there was a smaller child to the sisters. “Where is the little one?” Malcolm asked. There weren't signs of a child nearby. “Sleeping. She sleeps a lot lately.” I exchanged a look with Malcolm. Things were worsening by the second. “We cleared the path. You and your sister can leave,” Milo was saying. He turned as if to go himself. Whatever patience he had shattered far too quickly. “Milo,” I called out to him. “Give her a minute. What are you going to accomplish by running off.” “Finding Neve,” he answered. “Finding the truth.” [[You’re showing your true colors][$milotone to "angry"]] [[We’ll be doing that together][$milotone to "fine"]] [[Slow down. I know you’re scared][$milotone to "soft"]]“Can Neve communicate in other ways?” I asked slowly. The Night Market translated. It didn’t matter how you spoke, it processed the words to whatever common tongue was known. It was the only thing I could think of when Ariel said that Neve didn’t talk. It had to be the magic of the market at work again. “I don’t think so,” Ariel said. “I’ve never heard her speak, at least. She’s not supposed to.” Not supposed to. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t. I clung to that belief, wanting very much to receive a rational explanation for everything that was going on. "Neve is a good woman," Ariel was saying. "She takes care of me and the little one. Whatever she's done, it must be a mistake." The little one. I had forgotten that there was a smaller child to the sisters. “Where is the little one?” Malcolm asked. There weren't signs of a child nearby. “Sleeping. She sleeps a lot lately.” I exchanged a look with Malcolm. Things were worsening by the second. “We cleared the path. You and your sister can leave,” Milo was saying. He turned as if to go himself. Whatever patience he had shattered far too quickly. “Milo,” I called out to him. “Give her a minute. What are you going to accomplish by running off.” “Finding Neve,” he answered. “Finding the truth.” [[You’re showing your true colors][$milotone to "angry"]] [[We’ll be doing that together][$milotone to "fine"]] [[Slow down. I know you’re scared][$milotone to "soft"]] “When was the last time you saw Neve?” I asked. “You say you’ve been trapped down here for a long time. Has it been since then?” “No.” The panic began to rise again at the thought of her sister. “She was with us in the beginning. All three of us were together. But when it became clear that no one was coming to help, Neve went to try and find a way out. She wandered out through the tunnels and didn’t come back. The little one and I tried to find her but she got so scared. I didn’t want to go far.” “Where is the little one?” Malcolm asked. There weren't signs of a child nearby. “Sleeping. She sleeps a lot lately.” I exchanged a look with Malcolm. Things were worsening by the second. “We cleared the path. You and your sister can leave,” Milo was saying. He turned as if to go himself. Whatever patience he had shattered far too quickly. “Milo,” I called out to him. “Give her a minute. What are you going to accomplish by running off.” “Finding Neve,” he answered. “Finding the truth.” [[You’re showing your true colors][$milotone to "angry"]] [[We’ll be doing that together][$milotone to "fine"]] [[Slow down. I know you’re scared][$milotone to "soft"]]“Milo, knock it off. You’re starting to show your true colors here.” The vitriol dripping from his tone wasn’t even something he was trying to hide. Someone new had entered the mix. Someone that Milo now didn’t trust. And he was reacting terribly to it. “True colors?” he laughed. “You kidding me right now? We need to be finding Neve. Whatever is going on here is all hearsay and bullshit. Why are we wasting our time with her.” “Because it’s a lead,” I told him firmly. “A fucking lead,” he scoffed. Arms crossed before him, he stood there petulant. “Sure.” Ariel looked at him then, tipping her head to her side. “I know who you are,” she said softly. “Your pillar is strong.” “Right, I don’t actually know what that means.” <<if $milotone == "angry">> He was gritting his teeth, jaw tightening as he tried to keep himself under control. I could see it at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t care what this woman had to say. He’d already dismissed her.<<elseif $milotone == "fine">> The pillars were all around us, but some of them were crumbling. Others looked weak in the dim light. Milo’s, however, was the brightest. <<elseif $milotone == "soft">> He tried to relax his body, settling himself to look non threatening. “I’m afraid there is a lot of confusion with what’s going on with you three Fate sisters.”<</if>> “You never came down here to learn,” she said sadly, the silver tracks of her tears continuing. “That’s the thing, darlin’. I did. Never met you but I did come down here. Quite frequently. To speak with Neve.” <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a part of me that twitched at hearing the old moniker. The way he would say darlin’. How it would roll off his tongue with an easy smile.<</if>> The maiden looked at him in full confusion, trying to search out the truth from him. “When you say speak with Neve…?” <<if $milotone == "angry">> “I stripped down naked and we communed with our bodies. What do you think we were doing?” he spat. <<elseif $milotone == "fine">>“I do mean speak with her. She spoke back. We weren’t writing in the sand or whatever it is she claims that she does.” <<elseif $milotone == "soft">> “I //spoke// with her,” he insisted. “We had full conversations with each other from the time I was a child.”<</if>> The maiden shook her head. “But when I say that Neve cannot speak, I mean that she physically is incapable of it. She cut out her own tongue. Wrapped a spell around herself to keep her from speaking Fate’s truth.” A flash of anger blared in his eyes, brightening the room. Behind him, his pillar began to ring as keys fell down the sides of it. “No. That’s not true,” he said, voice seeping in anger. “You’re lying.” “I’m not, Gatekeeper. I’m not.” [[She cut out her tongue?]] [[What does Neve look like?]] [[Could her magic give her a voice again?]] <<set $milotone to "angry">>“We’ll be doing that together,” I told him firmly. The days of secrecy were now gone. I wasn’t going to allow him to go off on his own and try to take matters into his own hands anymore. “We’re wasting time,” he said. But he didn’t try to move again. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of him, grinding his teeth together. When he looked up, he locked eyes with Ariel. “Hi. I’m Milo.” I couldn’t tell if he was being a shithead to her or attempting to extend some broken olive branch. Ariel looked at him then, tipping her head to her side. “I know who you are,” she said softly. “Your pillar is strong.” “Right, I don’t actually know what that means.” <<if $milotone == "angry">> He was gritting his teeth, jaw tightening as he tried to keep himself under control. I could see it at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t care what this woman had to say. He’d already dismissed her.<<elseif $milotone == "fine">> The pillars were all around us, but some of them were crumbling. Others looked weak in the dim light. Milo’s, however, was the brightest. <<elseif $milotone == "soft">> He tried to relax his body, settling himself to look non threatening. “I’m afraid there is a lot of confusion with what’s going on with you three Fate sisters.”<</if>> “You never came down here to learn,” she said sadly, the silver tracks of her tears continuing. “That’s the thing, darlin’. I did. Never met you but I did come down here. Quite frequently. To speak with Neve.” <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a part of me that twitched at hearing the old moniker. The way he would say darlin’. How it would roll off his tongue with an easy smile.<</if>> The maiden looked at him in full confusion, trying to search out the truth from him. “When you say speak with Neve…?” <<if $milotone == "angry">> “I stripped down naked and we communed with our bodies. What do you think we were doing?” he spat. <<elseif $milotone == "fine">>“I do mean speak with her. She spoke back. We weren’t writing in the sand or whatever it is she claims that she does.” <<elseif $milotone == "soft">> “I //spoke// with her,” he insisted. “We had full conversations with each other from the time I was a child.”<</if>> The maiden shook her head. “But when I say that Neve cannot speak, I mean that she physically is incapable of it. She cut out her own tongue. Wrapped a spell around herself to keep her from speaking Fate’s truth.” A flash of anger blared in his eyes, brightening the room. Behind him, his pillar began to ring as keys fell down the sides of it. “No. That’s not true,” he said, voice seeping in anger. “You’re lying.” “I’m not, Gatekeeper. I’m not.” [[She cut out her tongue?]] [[What does Neve look like?]] [[Could her magic give her a voice again?]] <<set $milotone to "fine">>“Milo, slow down. I know you’re scared but we need to do this the right way.” I kept my voice soothing. There was something I was coming to learn about Milo. He matched my tone. He didn’t raise his voice if I did not. He didn’t become biting if I was kind. He was looking to me for direction and I needed to lead by example. “I’m not…” He began, about to prove me wrong. But then he trailed off. The words stuck in his throat. With a conscious effort, he forced himself to relax, stepping forward to kneel in front of the woman. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m Milo.” “I know who you are,” she said. “Your pillar is strong.” “Right, I don’t actually know what that means.” <<if $milotone == "angry">> He was gritting his teeth, jaw tightening as he tried to keep himself under control. I could see it at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t care what this woman had to say. He’d already dismissed her.<<elseif $milotone == "fine">> The pillars were all around us, but some of them were crumbling. Others looked weak in the dim light. Milo’s, however, was the brightest. <<elseif $milotone == "soft">> He tried to relax his body, settling himself to look non threatening. “I’m afraid there is a lot of confusion with what’s going on with you three Fate sisters.”<</if>> “You never came down here to learn,” she said sadly, the silver tracks of her tears continuing. “That’s the thing, darlin’. I did. Never met you but I did come down here. Quite frequently. To speak with Neve.” <<if $miloro == "true">> There was a part of me that twitched at hearing the old moniker. The way he would say darlin’. How it would roll off his tongue with an easy smile.<</if>> The maiden looked at him in full confusion, trying to search out the truth from him. “When you say speak with Neve…?” <<if $milotone == "angry">> “I stripped down naked and we communed with our bodies. What do you think we were doing?” he spat. <<elseif $milotone == "fine">>“I do mean speak with her. She spoke back. We weren’t writing in the sand or whatever it is she claims that she does.” <<elseif $milotone == "soft">> “I //spoke// with her,” he insisted. “We had full conversations with each other from the time I was a child.”<</if>> The maiden shook her head. “But when I say that Neve cannot speak, I mean that she physically is incapable of it. She cut out her own tongue. Wrapped a spell around herself to keep her from speaking Fate’s truth.” A flash of anger blared in his eyes, brightening the room. Behind him, his pillar began to ring as keys fell down the sides of it. “No. That’s not true,” he said, voice seeping in anger. “You’re lying.” “I’m not, Gatekeeper. I’m not.” [[She cut out her tongue?]] [[What does Neve look like?]] [[Could her magic give her a voice again?]] <<set $milotone to "soft">>“Wait, she cut out her own tongue? Why?” There was a pinch in the back of my mouth even thinking of it. A flash of a sharpened rock coated in blood and fat sunk into my thoughts. “A vow,” Ariel explained. “Neve took our promise with the utmost respect. She cut out her own tongue for silence. We all do it. When our time comes at least.” At the look that crossed my face, Malcolm leaned towards me. “They change every few hundred years. The maiden becomes the crone. The crone the child. And so on.” “Neve always took things seriously,” Ariel said. “She has always been the wisest of us all.” “Yeah, because that sounds fucking intelligent. Cutting out your own damn tongue,” Milo muttered. “It’s a lie. It’s all a fucking lie. You two see that, right? I don’t know if it’s by her, or by Neve, but we know it isn’t the truth.” I exchanged a glance with Malcolm. Beneath Malcolm’s jacket, Ariel was shaking. She looked emaciated. Cold. Tired. She had been trapped down here for far too long. “We need to get you someplace safe,” Malcolm started, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Let’s get you up top.” She scrambled back immediately. “No thank you.” There was a glance that she tossed over her shoulder, looking down a narrow hall towards a glittering door. It was made of soft pastel light that shone weakly. “The child, right?” I asked. It was the only member of the Fates that I had not met. “Are they in there?” “She won’t come out,” Ariel whispered. “And I’m not going to leave her. Not for anything. You cannot make me.” “You can’t just stay down here.” The thought of the two of them living here, alone, felt wrong. The Fates of the entire realm and they were locked away. The fear that was coating these walls concerned me. “I know coming up top could be intimidating but we’ll find you someplace safe.” “It is not the Fates job to interact with the public. We prefer our solitude.” “You can have solitude,” Malcolm encouraged. “There are places that you can go. You do not have to live beneath the streets.” She looked at us sadly, curling into herself further. “It is simply what we do,” she said. “Being the keeper of Fate is no small task. It is a position we take with pride. This is not a weight to carry on our shoulders.” “So why’s the girl back there alone?” It was Milo’s voice that rang out. I had thought he walked off but he was standing near his pillar, staring at it with a mixed range of hatred and discomfort. [[Can we check on her?]] [[No one should be alone]] [[Neve left you, didn’t she]]“What does Neve look like?” Without hesitation, Ariel conjured an image of Neve in front of us. It lasted as a ghostly specter for a few beats before dissolving into mist. But it was Neve. Same withered brown skin. Piercing eyes and round face. Dark brown tunic and skirts with an apron tied around her waist. “That’s her,” Milo confirmed. “But, she’s lying. $name, she’s fucking lying.” He swiped a hand across his face. “Someone has to be lying.” I exchanged a glance with Malcolm. Beneath Malcolm’s jacket, Ariel was shaking. She looked emaciated. Cold. Tired. She had been trapped down here for far too long. “We need to get you someplace safe,” Malcolm started, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Let’s get you up top.” She scrambled back immediately. “No thank you.” There was a glance that she tossed over her shoulder, looking down a narrow hall towards a glittering door. It was made of soft pastel light that shone weakly. “The child, right?” I asked. It was the only member of the Fates that I had not met. “Are they in there?” “She won’t come out,” Ariel whispered. “And I’m not going to leave her. Not for anything. You cannot make me.” “You can’t just stay down here.” The thought of the two of them living here, alone, felt wrong. The Fates of the entire realm and they were locked away. The fear that was coating these walls concerned me. “I know coming up top could be intimidating but we’ll find you someplace safe.” “It is not the Fates job to interact with the public. We prefer our solitude.” “You can have solitude,” Malcolm encouraged. “There are places that you can go. You do not have to live beneath the streets.” She looked at us sadly, curling into herself further. “It is simply what we do,” she said. “Being the keeper of Fate is no small task. It is a position we take with pride. This is not a weight to carry on our shoulders.” “So why’s the girl back there alone?” It was Milo’s voice that rang out. I had thought he walked off but he was standing near his pillar, staring at it with a mixed range of hatred and discomfort. [[Can we check on her?]] [[No one should be alone]] [[Neve left you, didn’t she]]“Could her magic give her a voice again?” I asked. Even I had heard Neve speak. Several times. Most of the patrons of her kafe stand had. “Or, maybe my magic? I know that there is translation magic within the realm. Maybe she is utilizing that.” Ariel looked at me with owlish eyes. “I– It could be a possibility. But Neve would never use it. She would not commit such an act only to reverse it.” Milo jerked towards the door, stumbling away from Ariel. He looked scared, something in her words registering doubt in his mind. “It’s a lie. All of this is a fucking lie.” I exchanged a glance with Malcolm. Beneath Malcolm’s jacket, Ariel was shaking. She looked emaciated. Cold. Tired. She had been trapped down here for far too long. “We need to get you someplace safe,” Malcolm started, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Let’s get you up top.” She scrambled back immediately. “No thank you.” There was a glance that she tossed over her shoulder, looking down a narrow hall towards a glittering door. It was made of soft pastel light that shone weakly. “The child, right?” I asked. It was the only member of the Fates that I had not met. “Are they in there?” “She won’t come out,” Ariel whispered. “And I’m not going to leave her. Not for anything. You cannot make me.” “You can’t just stay down here.” The thought of the two of them living here, alone, felt wrong. The Fates of the entire realm and they were locked away. The fear that was coating these walls concerned me. “I know coming up top could be intimidating but we’ll find you someplace safe.” “It is not the Fates job to interact with the public. We prefer our solitude.” “You can have solitude,” Malcolm encouraged. “There are places that you can go. You do not have to live beneath the streets.” She looked at us sadly, curling into herself further. “It is simply what we do,” she said. “Being the keeper of Fate is no small task. It is a position we take with pride. This is not a weight to carry on our shoulders.” “So why’s the girl back there alone?” It was Milo’s voice that rang out. I had thought he walked off but he was standing near his pillar, staring at it with a mixed range of hatred and discomfort. [[Can we check on her?]] [[No one should be alone]] [[Neve left you, didn’t she]]“Can we check on her?” I asked, rising to my feet. Ariel’s shriek of protest pierced through the room. “No!” She scrambled, as if to block us from the door, and ended up falling, her knees cracking against the stone. “Don’t take her,” she cried. “Please don’t take her. She did nothing.” I held up my hands, backing away. “We aren’t going to take her. We just want to make sure she’s okay.” “She’s sleeping. Why won’t anyone listen to me?” Her words devolved into sobs. Bending at her knees, she hugged her body close, crying into her knees. “Where the fuck is Neve,” Milo started once more, his patience gone. We were getting nowhere with Ariel. “I already told you. I do not–” “Bullshit! You told me! You are all connected and you told me! You said that the market was dying. That I had to save it! That I had to kill a part of it to save the many. You swore to me that if I didn’t, that all would be lost. That if I said //anything// then I was changing and twisting Fate. That it would end far worse than the strand that was currently in place.” She was shaking her head rapidly, her face turning bloodless. “I didn’t say any of that. We wouldn’t say that. It is forbidden…” “Like the Baron’s being in the same room is forbidden? Like telling anyone you’re the Gatekeeper is forbidden? Like so many other arbitrary rules that are pointlessly declared, I don’t believe you.” [[Milo, step out]] [[Milo has a point]] [[Please, if you know anything…]]“No one should be alone,” I whispered to Ariel. I had less sympathy for her as an adult, choosing to stay down here. But the child? It wasn’t right. Even if the girl was some sort of godly fate, she should have been with others her own age. Understanding the world she served. Because I had been a child that wasn’t allowed to understand the world around me. And the choices I had made had been questionable. “We don’t want to be,” she whispered. “But what else are we to do?” “Come with us,” Malcolm urged. “Take my hand and I’ll get you someplace safe.” I knew before she even said it that she would refuse. Whether it was fear of joining the world above or protection from speaking the fates of everyone she saw, I would never know. “I’m sorry,” she told me. She looked genuinely upset. “Where the fuck is Neve,” Milo started once more, his patience gone. “I already told you. I do not–” “Bullshit! You told me! You are all connected and you told me! You said that the market was dying. That I had to save it! That I had to kill a part of it to save the many. You swore to me that if I didn’t, that all would be lost. That if I said //anything// then I was changing and twisting Fate. That it would end far worse than the strand that was currently in place.” She was shaking her head rapidly, her face turning bloodless. “I didn’t say any of that. We wouldn’t say that. It is forbidden…” “Like the Baron’s being in the same room is forbidden? Like telling anyone you’re the Gatekeeper is forbidden? Like so many other arbitrary rules that are pointlessly declared, I don’t believe you.” [[Milo, step out]] [[Milo has a point]] [[Please, if you know anything…]]“Neve left you, didn’t she.” The picture was becoming clear. Ariel just didn’t want to see it. “Did she say where she went? If it is so important to stay down here and keep the pillars protected, keep fate protected, where is Neve?” A tear slipped from her eye. “I don’t know. Please, I– thank you for opening the door again but you should go.” “No,” Milo said, stepping back forward. “Not until we get some answers. Where the fuck is Neve?” “I don’t know!” she cried. “Bullshit! You told me! You are all connected and you told me! You said that the market was dying. That I had to save it! That I had to kill a part of it to save the many. You swore to me that if I didn’t, that all would be lost. That if I said //anything// then I was changing and twisting Fate. That it would end far worse than the strand that was currently in place.” She was shaking her head rapidly, her face turning bloodless. “I didn’t say any of that. We wouldn’t say that. It is forbidden…” “Like the Baron’s being in the same room is forbidden? Like telling anyone you’re the Gatekeeper is forbidden? Like so many other arbitrary rules that are pointlessly declared, I don’t believe you.” [[Milo, step out]] [[Milo has a point]] [[Please, if you know anything…]]“Milo, step out of the room,” I snapped. Escalating the situation, no matter who was on the right side of the conversation, wasn’t going to help. “Fine,” he said, waving his hands in the air. “Drink the lies. Don’t trust the man who literally can’t tell them.” “Milo,” Malcolm sighed. “Go.” I heard as Milo walked out of the room, the echoing thunder of his footsteps fading into the dark. Malcolm shook his head, remaining crouched. The pillars around us stood tall and sturdy, the magic of each of the Baron’s rolling down the sides. I looked towards the Gatekeeper’s. The keys that were cascading downwards to flow into an inner well. I noticed there was no pillar for the Fates, however. Just a lonely pool where we all sat. “Do you feel safe down here?” Malcolm was asking the Maiden. I could hear the whispered exchange between them as I rose. There was nothing else that could be gained here. She wasn’t going to say anything. I knew when to cut my losses. One of the most frustrating things about my situation was the lack of memory. I created this. I was the one involved in the very foundation of this world. Yet, when I wished to change something, I felt as if I was butting up against a wall. Like I could see what needed to change and I couldn't quite reach through and do anything about it. Turning back, I watched as the Maiden disappeared into the door near the end of the hall. Meanwhile, Malcolm was standing, staring at the pillar and the falling keys. “I don’t remember her being this way,” he said. “You’ve met her before?” He nodded. “She was my introduction to being the Gatekeeper. I guess Milo had Neve. Or whoever she actually is.” His eyes reflected the brushed gold metal that flowed before him. The pillar had been his once. It had been the depth and well of his magic and it had been ripped from him like paper. “What now?” he asked. [[We still need to deal with the Velvet Guard]] [[I don’t really know. I need a minute to think]] [[Still would like my body back]] I closed my eyes. This was not the way I wanted to go about it but, it wasn’t as if anyone could deny Milo’s words. “Milo, knock it off. You are not helping,” Malcolm said, voice tight. “Milo does have a point though,” I said softly. Turning to Ariel, I tried to keep my face neutral. I didn’t want it to seem like I was taking any sides. “There are a lot of rules within the market that make no sense. They are ones put into place to control the masses. Is this one of them?” “No,” she cried. “Of course it isn’t. I don’t even know what he is speaking of. We wouldn’t tell anyone their Fate. And if for some reason we did, we wouldn’t be able to guarantee how another outcome would be. We don’t have that knowledge.” I heard as Milo walked out of the room, the echoing thunder of his footsteps fading into the dark. Malcolm shook his head, remaining crouched. The pillars around us stood tall and sturdy, the magic of each of the Baron’s rolling down the sides. I looked towards the Gatekeeper’s. The keys that were cascading downwards to flow into an inner well. I noticed there was no pillar for the Fates, however. Just a lonely pool where we all sat. “Do you feel safe down here?” Malcolm was asking the Maiden. I could hear the whispered exchange between them as I rose. There was nothing else that could be gained here. She wasn’t going to say anything. I knew when to cut my losses. One of the most frustrating things about my situation was the lack of memory. I created this. I was the one involved in the very foundation of this world. Yet, when I wished to change something, I felt as if I was butting up against a wall. Like I could see what needed to change and I could quite reach through and do anything about it. Turning back, I watched as the Maiden disappeared into the door near the end of the hall. Meanwhile, Malcolm was standing, staring at the pillar and the falling keys. “I don’t remember her being this way,” he said. “You’ve met her before?” He nodded. “She was my introduction to being the Gatekeeper. I guess Milo had Neve. Or whoever she actually is.” His eyes reflected the brushed gold metal that flowed before him. The pillar had been his once. It had been the depth and well of his magic and it had been ripped from him like paper. “What now?” he asked. [[We still need to deal with the Velvet Guard]] [[I don’t really know. I need a minute to think]] [[Still would like my body back]] Milo was pacing now. Walking back and forth between the pillars, his fingers twitching at his sides. The maiden was crying softly, her head downturned with a soft whimper falling from her lips. “Please,” I told her quietly. “If you know anything about what he is saying, about where Neve is, we must know.” She was trying to gather herself. Her tears overcoming her in a way that made her speechless. Rocking back and forth, she opened her mouth several times before she managed to push out her words. “I don’t know what he is speaking of,” she cried. “We wouldn’t tell anyone their Fate. And if for some reason we did, we wouldn’t be able to guarantee how another outcome would be. We don’t have that knowledge.” I heard as Milo walked out of the room, the echoing thunder of his footsteps fading into the dark. Malcolm shook his head, remaining crouched. The pillars around us stood tall and sturdy, the magic of each of the Baron’s rolling down the sides. I looked towards the Gatekeeper’s. The keys that were cascading downwards to flow into an inner well. I noticed there was no pillar for the Fates, however. Just a lonely pool where we all sat. “Do you feel safe down here?” Malcolm was asking the Maiden. I could hear the whispered exchange between them as I rose. There was nothing else that could be gained here. She wasn’t going to say anything. I knew when to cut my losses. One of the most frustrating things about my situation was the lack of memory. I created this. I was the one involved in the very foundation of this world. Yet, when I wished to change something, I felt as if I was butting up against a wall. Like I could see what needed to change and I couldn't quite reach through and do anything about it. Turning back, I watched as the Maiden disappeared into the door near the end of the hall. Meanwhile, Malcolm was standing, staring at the pillar and the falling keys. “I don’t remember her being this way,” he said. “You’ve met her before?” He nodded. “She was my introduction to being the Gatekeeper. I guess Milo had Neve. Or whoever she actually is.” His eyes reflected the brushed gold metal that flowed before him. The pillar had been his once. It had been the depth and well of his magic and it had been ripped from him like paper. “What now?” he asked. [[We still need to deal with the Velvet Guard]] [[I don’t really know. I need a minute to think]] [[Still would like my body back]]<<if $hazelbreak == "true">>“I’d say one of the next things we need to do is deal with the Velvet Guard,” I told him. “Knowing that most of them have been massacred by now is not quite the position I want to be in.” “I don’t agree with the guard but, you’re right. If the rumors are true then…” “Then what?” “I just think the situation might be a lot worse than we have anticipated.” I didn’t like the tone that I detected in his voice. Malcolm had become adept at feeling the Night Market's needs over the years. The shift in the wind. If he was concerned, there was a reason to be. <<elseif $gabrielbreak == "true">> “I need to go check on Gabriel,” I told him. “After what happened…” I looked around me. Down in the belly of our future. It was the right call to come here and yet it was now a dead end. “I just need to get to him. Find out where his mind is at. Malcolm, it was not him that was in that alley with me. Not really.” “I understand.” Placing a hand on my shoulder, he squeezed. “We’re done here. Just go. We can circle back around to Ariel in a few days. Make sure she doesn’t stay down here. And you know Milo is going to go seek out Neve.” “You may need to go with him,” I said. “I’m not sure we can trust him and Neve together. Especially if there’s some sort of hold she has on him.” “Done,” he told me simply.<</if>>Malcolm sighed, head bowing. “She was right, you know. His pillar is strong.” I stepped up to his side. I couldn’t quite remember how it looked before Milo. I wondered how it was when Malcolm was in control. “He’s had the job the longest,” I reasoned. “He’s the longest living Gatekeeper.” Malcolm snorted. “Ironic, really. Thought he’d be dead before his brain even developed.” I watched as Malcolm reached out, hooking his fingers through one of the keys. They dissipated into dust, trickling through his hand like ground up gold. “Do you believe it?” I asked. “What he’s saying?” “He can’t lie, right?” “Not supposed to be able to. But, if anyone can find a loophole, it’s Milo.” Believing Milo wasn’t really the problem I was facing. As time began to pass and the picture became more and more clear, it wasn’t that I thought he was lying. He had been backed into a corner. He had been faced with a decision that never should have been his and he had thought he was doing the right thing. There was a lack of awareness from him in the beginning. A lack of understanding of who he truly was. Part of him had buried his head in the sand. The other part of him had tried so hard to take on the future single handedly. There was part of me that could identify with that. I had sat up, looking down on my subjects, wanting to experience everything they did. Wishing to eagerly participate. There was no thought as to what that would mean. How it would hurt. I just had wanted to //live//. And so I had leapt. When the spell had been enacted, I had leapt, memories be damned. Pen be damned. I had simply sunk into the path I saw laid out before me. And now we were both here. Not quite understanding how we had gotten here or why. No, I believed Milo. I did. [[Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less]] [[We just had to find a way to move past it]]“We move on and I try to get corporeal again,” I told him. “I’d like my body back. If we’ve run into a dead end with Neve, then we just try a new avenue. I don’t know if we should be spending a ton of time on a path that might never produce.” Neve would show. Even if she had been nothing more than someone else's pawn, I had a feeling she would show up. Everyone volleyed for control. Everyone wanted to play their own game. Neve wasn’t going to be any different. Malcolm sighed, head bowing. “She was right, you know. His pillar is strong.” I stepped up to his side. I couldn’t quite remember how it looked before Milo. I wondered how it was when Malcolm was in control. “He’s had the job the longest,” I reasoned. “He’s the longest living Gatekeeper.” Malcolm snorted. “Ironic, really. Thought he’d be dead before his brain even developed.” I watched as Malcolm reached out, hooking his fingers through one of the keys. They dissipated into dust, trickling through his hand like ground up gold. “Do you believe it?” I asked. “What he’s saying?” “He can’t lie, right?” “Not supposed to be able to. But, if anyone can find a loophole, it’s Milo.” Believing Milo wasn’t really the problem I was facing. As time began to pass and the picture became more and more clear, it wasn’t that I thought he was lying. He had been backed into a corner. He had been faced with a decision that never should have been his and he had thought he was doing the right thing. There was a lack of awareness from him in the beginning. A lack of understanding of who he truly was. Part of him had buried his head in the sand. The other part of him had tried so hard to take on the future single handedly. There was part of me that could identify with that. I had sat up, looking down on my subjects, wanting to experience everything they did. Wishing to eagerly participate. There was no thought as to what that would mean. How it would hurt. I just had wanted to //live//. And so I had leapt. When the spell had been enacted, I had leapt, memories be damned. Pen be damned. I had simply sunk into the path I saw laid out before me. And now we were both here. Not quite understanding how we had gotten here or why. No, I believed Milo. I did. [[Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less]] [[We just had to find a way to move past it]] “I don’t know.” Maybe I should have felt more defeated than I actually was. But, I had been in this position before. The instability of the path in front of me was an old friend by now. It felt like an oddly comfortable place to be in. Because while I may not know what we were supposed to do next, the opportunities were going to present themselves. I just had to wait. I had to trust. Malcolm sighed, head bowing. “She was right, you know. His pillar is strong.” I stepped up to his side. I couldn’t quite remember how it looked before Milo. I wondered how it was when Malcolm was in control. “He’s had the job the longest,” I reasoned. “He’s the longest living Gatekeeper.” Malcolm snorted. “Ironic, really. Thought he’d be dead before his brain even developed.” I watched as Malcolm reached out, hooking his fingers through one of the keys. They dissipated into dust, trickling through his hand like ground up gold. “Do you believe it?” I asked. “What he’s saying?” “He can’t lie, right?” “Not supposed to be able to. But, if anyone can find a loophole, it’s Milo.” Believing Milo wasn’t really the problem I was facing. As time began to pass and the picture became more and more clear, it wasn’t that I thought he was lying. He had been backed into a corner. He had been faced with a decision that never should have been his and he had thought he was doing the right thing. There was a lack of awareness from him in the beginning. A lack of understanding of who he truly was. Part of him had buried his head in the sand. The other part of him had tried so hard to take on the future single handedly. There was part of me that could identify with that. I had sat up, looking down on my subjects, wanting to experience everything they did. Wishing to eagerly participate. There was no thought as to what that would mean. How it would hurt. I just had wanted to //live//. And so I had leapt. When the spell had been enacted, I had leapt, memories be damned. Pen be damned. I had simply sunk into the path I saw laid out before me. And now we were both here. Not quite understanding how we had gotten here or why. No, I believed Milo. I did. [[Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less]] [[We just had to find a way to move past it]] But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. Because while I now understood why he did what he did, I still couldn’t understand the pain that had come with it. Not the physical pain. But the fear. The betrayal. The idea that someone so close could do something so wrong and maybe even be right in doing so. It was a pain that lingered and confused me and filled me with a hatred that I didn’t always feel like I should have. The more terrifying moments were the ones where I did believe I should hold that pain. That I should wrap it all up in a ball and use it against him. Those were the moments I was more afraid of myself than anything else. “Come on,” I told Malcolm. “There’s a lot more we have to do.” The trip up to the top seemed to be much shorter. Our steps were far more even as we emerged into the Spice District. The abandoned streets now looked like a bombed out portion of the market, ready to slip away to the stars. Milo stood a few feet away, the smoke curling from his cigarette, twining around itself as it rose like forgotten steam. He stared out over the desolated tables. The way they were snapped in two. Pots forgotten. Rotting food still sitting in barrels. The people here had run. They hadn’t even had time to pack up. Their livelihood was taken from them in an instant and most were now scattered and lost on the other sides of the walls. I could almost hear them still. The distant chatter. The laughter. The way the children had woven between legs. The smell of food. The vendors yelling at the thieves. “We’ll get it back,” I said to no one in particular. “One day. It’ll be better than what it was.” “There was nothing wrong with it before,” Milo muttered, kicking at a spare can. He flicked the burning ash to the ground. “Can we go?” “No.” Milo startled, turning to look at me over his shoulder. “No?” “No.” He sucked the smoke from his cigarette in deep before pulling it from his mouth and blowing it back out. “Right. Want to share?” “We’re going to talk,” I told him simply. “Figure out our next move.” “No, we’re going to find Neve.” <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> He looked me up and down in confusion. “Besides, shouldn’t you be running off to the Warden. He’s gone nuts, yeah? Might need to go deal with that before he guts more people.” His words almost made me go. They should have, really. But I felt like the pieces of my future were all bits of emotional shards that needed to be gathered. And that did have to include my Gatekeeper. “I’ll be going to him. But,” <</if>> I stood between him and his way out. “Before we do any of that, we are going to take a minute and actually talk about what we’ve learned.” “In the middle of a bombed out alley?” Milo snorted. “Appropriate.” He was already digging for another cigarette. Malcolm stepped up to my side, looking over the man before us. “Milo, not everything gets to be on your terms. You’re going to need to talk to us sooner or later.” He crushed the cigarette between his fingers. I didn’t think he had meant to but the line of it snapped. Milo looked down at it in disgust. As if the thing had betrayed him somehow. “And what would you like to talk about, Mal, huh?” His voice dropped an octave. Gravel rough and quartered. “Want to talk about how once again I fucked up? Misread a situation and made it into a bigger deal than it should have been? Want to talk about how the woman who I used to wish was my mom, turned out to be playing me the entire time? Or should we talk about how your mom had a hand in this. Or how I was apparently so desperate to be important in this fucking life that I didn’t even question these responsibilities. Or, I know, we could talk about how I just fucking blindly killed $name and took away the fucking light of this world, putting everyone in it in danger. <<if $miloro == "true">> How I decided that the one good fucking person I knew, was the sacrifical lamb. That it didn’t matter that I had come to love ?them. That I came this close to just ending the fucking world for ?them. I still saw it through. I still //fucking// killed them. And I couldn’t even do that right!<</if>> Tell me, Mal. Which conversation topic here tickles your fancy.” Hands curled at his side, he stared somewhere over our shoulders. His words were addressed towards Malcolm but I felt every single one of them rocked through me. <<if $miloro == "true">> Ending the world for me. He had sat down and struggled with the thought of it. It would mean ending his life as well. None of it sat right with me.<</if>> <<if $miloro == "true">> [[Muster the ability to try and calm him]]<</if>> [[You can’t turn this into all about you]] [[Yeah, that’s exactly what we need to be talking about]] We had to find a way to move past it. I knew that the festering wound that still lay between Milo and I needed to be addressed with far more clarity than it had been. We needed to sit down and speak with each other calmly. Not in the middle of events that were indicative of the end of the world. “Come on,” I told Malcolm. “There’s a lot more we have to do.” The trip up to the top seemed to be much shorter. Our steps were far more even as we emerged into the Spice District. The abandoned streets now looked like a bombed out portion of the market, ready to slip away to the stars. Milo stood a few feet away, the smoke curling from his cigarette, twining around itself as it rose like forgotten steam. He stared out over the desolated tables. The way they were snapped in two. Pots forgotten. Rotting food still sitting in barrels. The people here had run. They hadn’t even had time to pack up. Their livelihood was taken from them in an instant and most were now scattered and lost on the other sides of the walls. I could almost hear them still. The distant chatter. The laughter. The way the children had woven between legs. The smell of food. The vendors yelling at the thieves. “We’ll get it back,” I said to no one in particular. “One day. It’ll be better than what it was.” “There was nothing wrong with it before,” Milo muttered, kicking at a spare can. He flicked the burning ash to the ground. “Can we go?” “No.” Milo startled, turning to look at me over his shoulder. “No?” “No.” He sucked the smoke from his cigarette in deep before pulling it from his mouth and blowing it back out. “Right. Want to share?” “We’re going to talk,” I told him simply. “Figure out our next move.” “No, we’re going to find Neve.” <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> He looked me up and down in confusion. “Besides, shouldn’t you be running off to the Warden. He’s gone nuts, yeah? Might need to go deal with that before he guts more people.” His words almost made me go. They should have, really. But I felt like the pieces of my future were all bits of emotional shards that needed to be gathered. And that did have to include my Gatekeeper. “I’ll be going to him. But,” <</if>> I stood between him and his way out. “Before we do any of that, we are going to take a minute and actually talk about what we’ve learned.” “In the middle of a bombed out alley?” Milo snorted. “Appropriate.” He was already digging for another cigarette. Malcolm stepped up to my side, looking over the man before us. “Milo, not everything gets to be on your terms. You’re going to need to talk to us sooner or later.” He crushed the cigarette between his fingers. I didn’t think he had meant to but the line of it snapped. Milo looked down at it in disgust. As if the thing had betrayed him somehow. “And what would you like to talk about, Mal, huh?” His voice dropped an octave. Gravel rough and quartered. “Want to talk about how once again I fucked up? Misread a situation and made it into a bigger deal than it should have been? Want to talk about how the woman who I used to wish was my mom, turned out to be playing me the entire time? Or should we talk about how your mom had a hand in this. Or how I was apparently so desperate to be important in this fucking life that I didn’t even question these responsibilities. Or, I know, we could talk about how I just fucking blindly killed $name and took away the fucking light of this world, putting everyone in it in danger. <<if $miloro == "true">> How I decided that the one good fucking person I knew, was the sacrifical lamb. That it didn’t matter that I had come to love ?them. That I came this close to just ending the fucking world for ?them. I still saw it through. I still //fucking// killed them. And I couldn’t even do that right!<</if>> Tell me, Mal. Which conversation topic here tickles your fancy.” Hands curled at his side, he stared somewhere over our shoulders. His words were addressed towards Malcolm but I felt every single one of them rocked through me. <<if $miloro == "true">> Ending the world for me. He had sat down and struggled with the thought of it. It would mean ending his life as well. None of it sat right with me.<</if>> <<if $miloro == "true">> [[Muster the ability to try and calm him]]<</if>> [[You can’t turn this into all about you]] [[Yeah, that’s exactly what we need to be talking about]] The pain that shuddered through him rocked through my bones. It was the kind bred from so much fear and loss that it was hard to control. Cracking open every hidden box and bandaged wound. Milo was breaking in front of me and I couldn’t even touch him and tell him it was going to be alright. “Milo, it’s okay,” I tried. “How? How is anything that I did okay? Why are you so fucking calm about this?” “Because you’re hurting,” I told him gently. “I’m hurting, too. If I could find a way to help you, I would.” “I don’t want your help,” he whispered, eyes swimming with pain. “I know. But you also don’t get to decide how I feel.” “I can’t do this,” he said with a hitch to his breath. “I can’t think of that night. The second I do I start getting this pain in my chest and I can’t think straight and the world begins to spin. And it’s not like I can actually say any of that to you because who the hell complains about their own shit to the person they killed.” [[Then you need to figure out how to move on]] [[You need to get it off your chest]] [[I’m not dead]] It felt like every word, every single one of his actions, was trying to diminish the fact that I had been the one to be hurt in this. He got to walk away that night while I was thrust into the recesses of my own mind. “You can’t turn this into all about you,” I told him. “I was hurt, too.” “I know! Fucking, hell, $name! I fucking know! You think I don’t actually think about that? That I don’t get reminded of it every single day when I look at you. I want you to fucking yell at me. To, I don’t know, banish me from the fucking market. Because right now, the only reason I’m holding on is because I need to fix what I did. I need to make sure you’re safe or else what was the fucking point to this all?” "There might not be a point!" I yelled. "You may have just fucked up, Milo! You made the decision to go through with all of this and here are the consequences!" "We are literally saying the same thing," he told me in frusteration. "I know all of this. I'm dealing with the consequences. I am. And I'm trying to stay away from you because I know the sight of me adds nothing to your life. What more do you want from me? I killed you, $name. There's nothing I can do to make this any better." [[Then you need to figure out how to move on]] [[You need to get it off your chest]] [[I’m not dead]]“That’s exactly what we need to be talking about,” I said calmly. It hadn’t been my intention but now that it was spoken out loud, I wasn’t about to turn it away. “All of it.” The walls around us were closing in. Forcing us together. To face everything that had been done. “Milo, you can’t keep running from this. We need to face what’s happened.” I expected some sort of fight from him. Most of the time, Milo reacted with anger when cornered. A caged animal that tried to scream his way out of a situation. But, to my surprise, Milo wasn’t running. He wasn’t fighting. If anything, he was searching for someone to throw him a lifeline. A way to speak that he hadn’t quite figured out yet. “I can’t,” he said with a hitch to his breath. “I can’t think of that night. The second I do I start getting this pain in my chest and I can’t think straight and the world begins to spin. And it’s not like I can actually say any of that to you because who the hell complains about their own shit to the person they killed.” [[Then you need to figure out how to move on]] [[You need to get it off your chest]] [[I’m not dead]]“You need to figure out how to move on,” I told him. “If you get stuck here, stuck in this place that you’re in, then you are not going to be able to do your job.” “No, I can,” he insisted. “I can do my job and not– that's what I’ve been doing. The last few months. I’ve been trying, $name. I’ll tell you everything but I have been trying. I’m not ignoring my duties anymore. I’m–” “Milo,” I interrupted him. “That’s not what I mean.” Milo shook his head, trying to walk away. The second he realized what it was he was doing, he turned back around. There was nowhere to go. If he left, he was running once again. If he stayed, he’d have to speak. To listen. He just couldn’t. “What is it you want me to say?” he asked. “You keep looking at me like I should say something and I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. I– Is it I’m sorry? Would that even do anything?” “You could try,” Malcolm muttered. “I’m sorry,” he laughed, voice reedy and thin. “Sure, yeah. I’m sorry. What a joke those words are. They don’t mean a damn thing. They’re what people say when they want to feel better about what they did and breeze past it all. But sure, I’ll say it.” He held out his arms in a mockery. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for trying to save you. I’m sorry for putting the rest of the world above you. I’m sorry for not saying anything and shoving a key inside your chest and I’m sorry for pretending like I didn’t care. Like it was all fine.” He took in several deep breaths, not able to catch them as they came stuttering out. While it started as a joke, the moment the words came tumbling out, his tone changed. The mockery that he was intending to make of the moment ran away from him as he was locked in place, staring at me. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I’m sorry I fell in love with you,” he cried. “I’m sorry that I didn’t throw the world away just to be with you for a second longer. I’m sorry that I can’t take you in my arms and let you know that I’m dying without you. And I’m sorry that you came back before I could fix my mistakes. Because I want to fix them, $name. I want to fix every fuck up I bestowed and prove to you that I’m more than I have given you. And I want – I just want to be able to dance with you again. [[I want to dance with you, too]]<</if>> [[It doesn't make it better but it's a start]] [[You need to show it more]] “You need to get this off your chest,” I told him. “No matter what my feelings on the situation is, you have to get it off your chest so we can figure out what to do here.” “There’s nothing to be done,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. “You cannot tell me there is a single way that we can move past this.” “I don’t know,” I said. “Because you won’t talk to me.” Milo shook his head, trying to walk away. The second he realized what it was he was doing, he turned back around. There was nowhere to go. If he left, he was running once again. If he stayed, he’d have to speak. To listen. He just couldn’t. “What is it you want me to say?” he asked. “You keep looking at me like I should say something and I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. I– Is it I’m sorry? Would that even do anything?” “You could try,” Malcolm muttered. “I’m sorry,” he laughed, voice reedy and thin. “Sure, yeah. I’m sorry. What a joke those words are. They don’t mean a damn thing. They’re what people say when they want to feel better about what they did and breeze past it all. But sure, I’ll say it.” He held out his arms in a mockery. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for trying to save you. I’m sorry for putting the rest of the world above you. I’m sorry for not saying anything and shoving a key inside your chest and I’m sorry for pretending like I didn’t care. Like it was all fine.” He took in several deep breaths, not able to catch them as they came stuttering out. While it started as a joke, the moment the words came tumbling out, his tone changed. The mockery that he was intending to make of the moment ran away from him as he was locked in place, staring at me. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I’m sorry I fell in love with you,” he cried. “I’m sorry that I didn’t throw the world away just to be with you for a second longer. I’m sorry that I can’t take you in my arms and let you know that I’m dying without you. And I’m sorry that you came back before I could fix my mistakes. Because I want to fix them, $name. I want to fix every fuck up I bestowed and prove to you that I’m more than I have given you. And I want – I just want to be able to dance with you again. [[I want to dance with you, too]]<</if>> [[It doesn't make it better but it's a start]] [[You need to show it more]] “I’m not dead,” I said. “I’m the least undead dead person, in fact. Especially since I don’t have a clock that has ran out. No one had to dig me up from a grave. I just appeared. So we need to stop hiding behind that because it’s going to give me a complex.” Milo shook his head, trying to walk away. The second he realized what it was he was doing, he turned back around. There was nowhere to go. If he left, he was running once again. If he stayed, he’d have to speak. To listen. He just couldn’t. “What is it you want me to say?” he asked. “You keep looking at me like I should say something and I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. I– Is it I’m sorry? Would that even do anything?” “You could try,” Malcolm muttered. “I’m sorry,” he laughed, voice reedy and thin. “Sure, yeah. I’m sorry. What a joke those words are. They don’t mean a damn thing. They’re what people say when they want to feel better about what they did and breeze past it all. But sure, I’ll say it.” He held out his arms in a mockery. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for trying to save you. I’m sorry for putting the rest of the world above you. I’m sorry for not saying anything and shoving a key inside your chest and I’m sorry for pretending like I didn’t care. Like it was all fine.” He took in several deep breaths, not able to catch them as they came stuttering out. While it started as a joke, the moment the words came tumbling out, his tone changed. The mockery that he was intending to make of the moment ran away from him as he was locked in place, staring at me. <<if $miloro == "true">> “I’m sorry I fell in love with you,” he cried. “I’m sorry that I didn’t throw the world away just to be with you for a second longer. I’m sorry that I can’t take you in my arms and let you know that I’m dying without you. And I’m sorry that you came back before I could fix my mistakes. Because I want to fix them, $name. I want to fix every fuck up I bestowed and prove to you that I’m more than I have given you. And I want – I just want to be able to dance with you again. [[I want to dance with you, too]]<</if>> [[It doesn't make it better but it's a start]] [[You need to show it more]] “I want to dance with you, too,” I whispered. I wanted nothing more than to go back to the comfort that we had cultivated between us. To lay against him at night with the comforters wrapped around our legs. To feel his skin, hot and sticky against mine. To listen to him hum in my ear as we swayed to the music he created. Milo’s shoulders deflated, hand coming up to swipe across his face. It wasn’t enough, though. Because while I wanted to dance with him, I still wasn’t here. Unable to touch him. There was no rhyme or reason as to why not but the world was still stopping me. Or maybe I was stopping me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m sorry, too.” The debris on the ground crunched beneath a booted foot, getting louder and louder as someone approached. “Fuck,” Malcolm hissed. There was a long moment where I had almost forgotten that Malcolm was there. Lying witness to everything that Milo and I were saying to each other. But as I looked up, I realized his comment was not directed towards us. Coming down the alley was the willowy figure of a woman, her long black hair twisting around her waist, tipped with magic. A dark emerald green dress wrapped around her in loose strips, showing her bare thighs and shapely hips. Green eyes glowed strangely in the dim alleyway. An unnatural glow that bled from her eyes. “My darling child,” she breathed. “Oh, how good it is to see you.” Malcolm was stock still beside me. “Wish I could say the same, Mother.” Milo moved almost immediately, stepping in front of both Malcolm and I. His fingers were twitching against the key ring he had attached to his belt. “And Milo,” she said, his name slipping from her tongue. “Quite the show you just put on there. I was almost convinced. Good to see that you are still a blight on my childrens lives.” [[Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what’s going on]] Milo was a creature who couldn’t lie. Yet, he had gotten so used to working around that limitation and twisting his words, that I felt as if everything he said had a double meaning. Like I had to look deeper into what he was saying to find some semblance of the truth. But for the first time, I felt like he was being honest. Ripping away everything that he masked himself with, allowing himself to not hold back. It didn’t make it better. It didn’t excuse his actions. But it was something that could be worked with. “It’s a start,” I told him. “It can be a beginning.” Tipping his head back, hands loose at his sides, he took a deep breath, as if a weight was finally lifting from him. The debris on the ground crunched beneath a booted foot, getting louder and louder as someone approached. “Fuck,” Malcolm hissed. There was a long moment where I had almost forgotten that Malcolm was there. Lying witness to everything that Milo and I were saying to each other. But as I looked up, I realized his comment was not directed towards us. Coming down the alley was the willowy figure of a woman, her long black hair twisting around her waist, tipped with magic. A dark emerald green dress wrapped around her in loose strips, showing her bare thighs and shapely hips. Green eyes glowed strangely in the dim alleyway. An unnatural glow that bled from her eyes. “My darling child,” she breathed. “Oh, how good it is to see you.” Malcolm was stock still beside me. “Wish I could say the same, Mother.” Milo moved almost immediately, stepping in front of both Malcolm and I. His fingers were twitching against the key ring he had attached to his belt. “And Milo,” she said, his name slipping from her tongue. “Quite the show you just put on there. I was almost convinced. Good to see that you are still a blight on my childrens lives.” [[Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what’s going on]] This was the first time I felt as if Milo was being honest with me. Letting through that raw emotion that he tried so very hard to shove down. “You need to show this side of yourself more,” I told him. “Since I’ve been back, you’ve acted like that night was an inconvenience to you. People are dead. The market is not saved. But you haven’t seemed to care.” “I care,” he told me. “I care more than I know how to say. But, if I break down about it…” he shrugged. “Where is that going to get me?” “It’s honest, Milo. Breaking down is at least honest. It’s not a build up of emotion. Maybe if you had let yourself feel all of this more often, none of this would have happened.” “That seems like a bullshit line,” he muttered. The debris on the ground crunched beneath a booted foot, getting louder and louder as someone approached. “Fuck,” Malcolm hissed. There was a long moment where I had almost forgotten that Malcolm was there. Lying witness to everything that Milo and I were saying to each other. But as I looked up, I realized his comment was not directed towards us. Coming down the alley was the willowy figure of a woman, her long black hair twisting around her waist, tipped with magic. A dark emerald green dress wrapped around her in loose strips, showing her bare thighs and shapely hips. Green eyes glowed strangely in the dim alleyway. An unnatural glow that bled from her eyes. “My darling child,” she breathed. “Oh, how good it is to see you.” Malcolm was stock still beside me. “Wish I could say the same, Mother.” Milo moved almost immediately, stepping in front of both Malcolm and I. His fingers were twitching against the key ring he had attached to his belt. “And Milo,” she said, his name slipping from her tongue. “Quite the show you just put on there. I was almost convinced. Good to see that you are still a blight on my childrens lives.” [[Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what’s going on]]“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what’s going on? Like you didn’t have a hand in this.” The gall of the woman before me was unbelievable. She stood there with a soft smile on her face, her eyes only for Malcolm. Meanwhile, the Fates were compromised, the alleyway was pulsing with distress, and the district was dying. All due to her book. She smiled at me. “We haven’t been properly introduced, have we. I’m Lucinda Albright. And you, well, you are an enigma.” “$name, don’t talk to her. Don’t listen to a word she says. Don’t let her get close to you,” Malcolm said. She tsked, walking further into the alley and positioning herself closer to Malcolm. “I thought our reunion would be better than this. My first born. Both of us returned from the dead. Yet, you haven't even come to see me.” “I didn’t even know you were back,” Malcolm said evenly. “Somehow, my dear sister neglected to tell me. Funny how she would do that.” I could see it then. Where Malcolm got his smile. It was a slight twitch to the corner of his lips that matched her own. A reminder of how one could never escape their past. “Well, I can see you will be setting the tone,” she said lightly. “But Hazel would love to see you. It’s been far too long. Come. Let’s go have dinner. Catch up.” [[He’s not going anywhere with you]] [[I’ll be coming with you]] <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>[[I had to go to Gabriel]]<</if>> Stepping in front of Malcolm, I looked at Lucinda, keeping my smile sweet. “He’s not going anywhere with you,” I told her politely. Milo stepped up from the other side, the two of us forming a barrier in front of her. “I think he has his own free will,” Lucinda responded. “Or do you two speak for him now.” “That’s really funny coming from you,” Milo sneered. “Turn around and walk back to the pits of hell, Lucinda. No one was missing you in this market.” Lucinda laughed. “Oh, dear boy. Hell doesn’t want me.” Craning her neck to look over us towards her son, she raised her brow expectantly at Malcolm. “Coming?” I could feel Malcolm’s heat at my back. “I said no.” We had already made the mistake of losing one Albright to her, we were not about to lose another. Lucinda was fully ignoring me at this point, continuing to look at her son. “Malcolm,” she sang. “I think it is important that you attend me. Hazel and you have not seen each other in so very long.” “Are you fucking deaf?” Milo asked. “$name said no—” “I’ll go,” Malcolm interrupted. I whipped around to look at him. His eyes were hardened, jaw clenched tight as he stared at his mother. “I’ll go with you.” “Malcolm,” I hissed. Stepping forward, he shook his head. “It’s not a fight we can win,” he said under his breath. “If I’m not back in a few hours then…” “I’m coming with you,” I told him firmly. He looked as if he was going to protest but in the end, I was also a fight he wasn’t going to win. “Milo, go and wait for us,” he said softly. “Mal, I’m not letting you two just walk into the fucking poisonous lions den.” “Lions aren’t poisonous,” Mal told him calmly. “And you are, because I need someone on the outside if this goes wrong.” Milo straightened at that. Malcolm made a very good point. If all three of us went, then there may be a chance none of us were walking out. “I’m waiting,” Lucinda called out. “Also, I can hear you three. You’re not very quiet.” It was then that Milo turned around, yet still kept one eye towards the alley. He placed his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. At first, I thought it was a gentle squeeze of encouragement. But as his hand slid down his arm, I watched as he passed Malcolm a key. He gave me a heavy look as he passed. “Lucinda,” he said with a grin. “Can’t wait to take you and bury you beneath a pile of concrete,” he said with a salute. “Try, Gatekeeper. I would love to see it.” Before leaving, Milo gave me a pointed look. His eyes glowed bright in the dark, willing me to be careful. To not provoke Lucinda, no matter what he had just done. <<if $miloro == "true">> “Come home,” he mouthed to me.<</if>> I nodded my head in understanding. [[Next|To Hazel’s]] “I’ll be coming with you.” Whether Malcolm wanted to go with her or not, I was not letting him walk away with his mother on his own. Knowing the few things that I did, the fear that had coursed through him at the mere thought of his mother being back, I would do everything in my power to not leave him alone with her. “Same,” Milo said. Lucinda laughed. “Oh, no, boy. You aren’t coming anywhere near my home. I think you’ve done enough to my family, don’t you?” Milo took a step towards her, a sinister smirk crossing his lips. “I don’t give two fucks what you think.” “Cute.” She raised her hands, lines of green running up her palm. Milo reached towards his keyring, gathering several keys and beginning to mutter something under his breath. Lucinda seemed to be waiting for that and the rumbling lines of green that shot through the ground began chasing across the stone towards Milo’s booted feet. Malcolm stepped forward before she could do anything. “Fine,” he shouted. Lucinda’s hand dropped. “Fine. He’ll stay. I’ll come with you.” “And the Night Market too?” she asked with a smile. So she knew who I was. Malcolm turned to me, stepping close enough to duck his head towards mine. “Stay with Milo.” “Absolutely not,” I hissed. “Are you crazy? We know what’s been going on with Hazel. You aren’t stepping foot in that house without me there.” Malcolm glanced over his shoulder. Lucinda was standing nonchalantly at the entrance of the alley and yet Malcolm was strung tight. “I don’t know what her game is yet.” “Then don’t fucking go,” Milo snapped. He was standing between the two of us and Lucinda, keeping his eyes on her. I had no doubt he’d throw himself in her path to keep her from getting to the two of us. “And leave Hazel there?” Malcolm’s distress was evident. Milo backed up, putting himself closer to the two of us. “She’s already been alone with my mother for months. I can’t leave her any longer. I didn’t even remember that I needed to go to her until this second and we literally just talked about it.” “I’m waiting,” Lucinda called out. “Also, I can hear you three. You’re not very quiet.” It was then that Milo turned around, yet still kept one eye towards the alley. He placed his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. At first, I thought it was a gentle squeeze of encouragement. But as his hand slid down his arm, I watched as he passed Malcolm a key. He gave me a heavy look as he passed. “Lucinda,” he said with a grin. “Can’t wait to take you and bury you beneath a pile of concrete,” he said with a salute. “Try, Gatekeeper. I would love to see it.” Before leaving, Milo gave me a pointed look. His eyes glowed bright in the dark, willing me to be careful. To not provoke Lucinda, no matter what he had just done. <<if $miloro == "true">> “Come home,” he mouthed to me.<</if>> I nodded my head in understanding. [[Next|To Hazel’s]] My eyes darted between Malcolm and Lucinda. I had to go to Gabriel. Knowing what he had done within the market, the lives that had been lost, didn’t give me the luxury to go and deal with Lucinda. The Fates had been one thing but Hazel and Malcolm’s crazy mother didn’t hold a candle to the Warden handing out compulsory death to the rest of the market. “Go,” Milo said, speaking low. “I’ll go with Malcolm.” I glanced over at Malcolm making sure it was okay. There was a part of me that felt guilty for leaving him. “If you are worried about your Warden,” Lucinda was saying. “I could tell you where to find him. I’ve been listening to the reports all morning. It really doesn’t look good for him.” “Don’t listen to her,” Malcolm said under his breath. “Never take one of her deals. It’s exactly what she’s looking for from us.” “You’ll have to be careful, however,” Lucinda continued. “I hear they are shutting down the streets in an attempt to find him. I wonder how the guard is going to respond to hear that their leader killed so many of their kind.” I wanted to run. Find Gabriel before anyone else could. Belladonna had surely sent the word out by now for him not to be harmed, but it was a standing order for the guard not to listen to vampires. Per Gabriel’s request. “$name, go,” Milo said. “If that’s all true, Gabe is going to be thrown into the pits.” “He dissolved the pits,” I murmured. “And I’m pretty sure they’ll bring it back just to make a point to their fallen Warden. Go.” For the first time in a long while, I listened to Milo. With one last look at Malcolm, I shoved past Lucinda, heading off into the market. I looked back once at the scene I was leaving behind. Lucinda was watching me go with a smile on her face. [[Next|To Gabriel 2]]“Shall we?” Lucinda turned and began walking back down the way she had come, expecting Malcolm and I to follow. It would have been so easy to run. To just take Malcolm away from here. But he was right. Every second that Hazel was in Lucinda’s possession, was another moment in which she was further poisoned. Malcolm bumped his shoulder against mine. When I looked at him, his face was impassive. He had let all emotion drop from him. I attempted to do the same. Following his lead was the best course of action given he was the Albright sibling that had gotten away. “Are you not even going to talk to me?” Lucinda asked after only a few steps. The alley ways were open to us. Clear of debris or bits of rubble. It had been my experience that most of the alleys were in disrepair. Yet, these paths looked new. I could feel like breathing within the stone and briefly I had to wonder, if it was even my own. “No,” Malcolm stated, hands loose at his sides as he stuck close to me. Luncinda’s body language didn’t change. If anything, she mirrored the blankness that Malcolm was giving to her. “I know I was not a good mother,” she stated after a moment. It seemed to catch Malcolm off guard as his eyes ticked to the back of her head. She didn’t turn around as she spoke. “I understand that I did not support you in the way you needed when you were a child.” “Not support me?” he laughed. “Is that how you are spinning it?” “How would you spin it?” His head bowed in barely retained anger. “I wouldn’t. It’s over, Lucinda. We’ve done this song and dance. Just let Hazel go.” The fact that he didn’t call her mother or mom gave Lucinda the first pause that I had seen. She looked over her shoulder with a dissatisfied look to her pinched lips. But clearly thought better of commenting about it. Instead, she focused on Hazel. “I am not holding your sister,” she said. There was anger coating her words. As if the idea that her son thought she could hurt her own child actually offended her. For a moment, I felt guilty for the accusation myself. “In fact, I’ve been the only one even there for her.” <<if $hazelro == "true">>My head popped up. I had tried to be there for her. I had sought her out. My every waking thought was of her. Yet, I didn’t know if Lucinda knew that yet. She knew who I was. I had locked eyes with her while still incorporeal. And while the memory was hazy, I knew she had seen me. Yet, I still kept my mouth shut. Because I was starting to wonder if the only way to beat Lucinda at her game was to keep my own cards close to chest. <</if>> “Wow,” Malcolm sneered. “Has that been hard for you? Or is your version of ‘being there’ like when we were kids. You’re there but you are only supportive or kind if we are doing what you say.” We came to the three tier fountain, stopping at the apex of the courtyard. Candles were mounted at the base of the fountain, the wax so thick that it ran down the cobblestones like thick glue. “She put most of these up, you know. Made them herself. Said she wanted one for every lost soul in the market.” Turning, Lucinda looked at the two of us. “She was out here alone when I found her. Crying. At a loss. Don’t cast judgment upon me when neither of you have made much more than a cursory effort with her.” [[She was right]] [[That is not true]] [[You did this]] As much as it pained me to admit it, Lucinda was right. She had a valid point she was making. Malcolm had practically forgotten about his sister. As the market was falling apart, he moved out of her house and back to his own, and then hadn’t seen her much since. Milo, Hazel’s best friend, had gone underground. And I was no longer there. <<if $hazelro == "true">> And I had tried. I had tried to see her. To talk to her. But could I have done more? Should I have been here more often? Talked to Victor? Talked to anyone, really. Why had I not come and tried to break the spell she was under. She was sick and scared and I had been following starfields into Nebula.<</if>> “We should have done better by her,” I said. Malcolm whipped around, staring at me with his lips parted. I tried to ignore the judgment in his eyes. “We are here to do better now.” “I understand that,” Lucinda responded. “I don’t particularly think it is the smartest idea but I see the pain that she is in and believe I may need help. I appreciate that you have seen your faults.” She bowed her head to me in respect. “This is bullshit,” Malcolm snapped. “$name, do not believe her lies. This is what she does. Twists everything around to fit her own narrative.” “My child, this is about your sister,” Lucinda attempted. When Malcolm opened his mouth to say more, I reached out, placing a hand on his arm. I shook my head. This was about Hazel. We needed to keep our focus. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> “No, I don’t buy it. I saw her in that alley. You sent her there to get spell components. She wasn’t in her right mind. She didn’t even know who I was. Where she was. She was stepping on dead bodies as if they were fallen leaves.” Malcolm winced at that, while Lucinda schooled her face into something pained. <</if>>“She is sick,” Lucinda said sadly. “Very sick. Ever since your death, $name. It affected her. Broke a part of her. You know our Hazel. She sees only the good in this world. And for that Next boy to so violently kill you like that? What was she supposed to do? Her mind just broke.” “You cannot possibly be blaming this on us?” Malcolm spat. “Have you even changed at all?” Lucinda sighed. “I’m not blaming it on either of you. I’m blaming it on Next. He is the vile one who started all of this. I heard what he was telling you two in the alley. Shameless. He will clearly say anything to be redeemed.” Malcolm snorted, turning away. “You two have a lot in common then.” He took a few steps away, trying to calm himself. I could see the way he looked at comparing Milo and his mother. Disgust filtered over him. “So you are blaming Milo for Hazel’s so-called break?” I asked, trying to give Malcolm a moment. “I am blaming Milo for the state of our market, which then contributed to my daughter's break.” Shaking her head, she stepped towards me. “You, out of everyone, should know. He made you trust him. Lied to you for weeks. He lured you to that ball. Got you into position and then he killed you. He broke trust, good faith, and friendship. He did it all. And for what? A dystopian world where people are dying every day?” [[Hesitate]] [[I can be mad at Milo but you cannot]] [[Milo was played]] “That’s not true,” I said. “Isn’t it? When was the last time you both stopped by? Or even one of you?” <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>“She doesn’t remember me,” I said. “What was I supposed to do?” <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> It killed me. Each time she looked at me and saw through me. It was a feeling I couldn’t quite describe. The way she saw me, spoke to me, but didn’t really know I was there at all. It killed me each time.<</if>> “This isn’t an argument on what should or should not have been done,” Lucinda said calmly. “This is about what we are doing going forward.” <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> “No, I don’t buy it. I saw her in that alley. You sent her there to get spell components. She wasn’t in her right mind. She didn’t even know who I was. Where she was. She was stepping on dead bodies as if they were fallen leaves.” Malcolm winced at that, while Lucinda schooled her face into something pained. <</if>>“She is sick,” Lucinda said sadly. “Very sick. Ever since your death, $name. It affected her. Broke a part of her. You know our Hazel. She sees only the good in this world. And for that Next boy to so violently kill you like that? What was she supposed to do? Her mind just broke.” “You cannot possibly be blaming this on us?” Malcolm spat. “Have you even changed at all?” Lucinda sighed. “I’m not blaming it on either of you. I’m blaming it on Next. He is the vile one who started all of this. I heard what he was telling you two in the alley. Shameless. He will clearly say anything to be redeemed.” Malcolm snorted, turning away. “You two have a lot in common then.” He took a few steps away, trying to calm himself. I could see the way he looked at comparing Milo and his mother. Disgust filtered over him. “So you are blaming Milo for Hazel’s so-called break?” I asked, trying to give Malcolm a moment. “I am blaming Milo for the state of our market, which then contributed to my daughter's break.” Shaking her head, she stepped towards me. “You, out of everyone, should know. He made you trust him. Lied to you for weeks. He lured you to that ball. Got you into position and then he killed you. He broke trust, good faith, and friendship. He did it all. And for what? A dystopian world where people are dying every day?” [[Hesitate]] [[I can be mad at Milo but you cannot]] [[Milo was played]] “You did this,” I said. “I know you have your hands in this. Hazel would have been at my side in an instant the second she learned I was back. Instead she had chosen to stay here? Away from me. Away from her brother. With a mother who has done nothing but beat her down her entire life?” There was a sharp glint to Lucinda’s eyes. “You know so much of our lives, do you? Malcolm, what have you been filling ?their head with?” She looked at the two of us incredulously. And with each passing moment I could feel it. The weight of my words felt unsteady. Based on nothing more than preconceived notions and old stories. “I will admit that I did not always have my children’s best interest at heart,” she spoke as if she were reading off a recipe. “But as for Hazel at this given moment, I can assure you, I am filled with nothing but concern for her. Why do you think I came and found you two today?” <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> “No, I don’t buy it. I saw her in that alley. You sent her there to get spell components. She wasn’t in her right mind. She didn’t even know who I was. Where she was. She was stepping on dead bodies as if they were fallen leaves.” Malcolm winced at that, while Lucinda schooled her face into something pained. <</if>>“She is sick,” Lucinda said sadly. “Very sick. Ever since your death, $name. It affected her. Broke a part of her. You know our Hazel. She sees only the good in this world. And for that Next boy to so violently kill you like that? What was she supposed to do? Her mind just broke.” “You cannot possibly be blaming this on us?” Malcolm spat. “Have you even changed at all?” Lucinda sighed. “I’m not blaming it on either of you. I’m blaming it on Next. He is the vile one who started all of this. I heard what he was telling you two in the alley. Shameless. He will clearly say anything to be redeemed.” Malcolm snorted, turning away. “You two have a lot in common then.” He took a few steps away, trying to calm himself. I could see the way he looked at comparing Milo and his mother. Disgust filtered over him. “So you are blaming Milo for Hazel’s so-called break?” I asked, trying to give Malcolm a moment. “I am blaming Milo for the state of our market, which then contributed to my daughter's break.” Shaking her head, she stepped towards me. “You, out of everyone, should know. He made you trust him. Lied to you for weeks. He lured you to that ball. Got you into position and then he killed you. He broke trust, good faith, and friendship. He did it all. And for what? A dystopian world where people are dying every day?” [[Hesitate]] [[I can be mad at Milo but you cannot]] [[Milo was played]] I hesitated. The pain was fresh. What happened was a complicated noose that needed to be undone before it hung me for good. But that didn’t mean I wanted to show a single ounce of that to Lucinda. Though, the nagging little voice that asked ‘what if she’s right?’ continued to twine through my thoughts. I knew how Hazel was. How she would be when no one was here to check her. When the world plunged into chaos, Hazel was not ever going to be a pillar of strength. And while I couldn’t blame Milo for Hazel’s actions, I was struggling to discredit the way Lucinda felt. Because didn’t every mother need someone to look at and blame for their child's pain? “You are such a hypocrite.” Malcolm’s voice shattered through my thoughts. “You did the same kind of bullshit when we were kids. Milo’s actions and what is happening to Hazel do not go hand in hand.” Lucinda’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you defending him?” “I’m not. What I am doing is making sure you don’t get to rewrite history to fit your own narrative.” “I brought you here because we are family. Not to design a narrative,” Lucinda said softly. She looked as if she was about to step towards him. Take him into her arms. But Malcolm jerked away. "Then why bring $name here. I get you wanted to get me in your clutches, but why $name.” I realized what he was asking then. Why bring me here when I could potentially throw a wrench in her plans. Perhaps something had been done to Malcolm. Something had certainly been done to Hazel. But could Lucinda even touch me? With a sickening kind of realization I understood that’s what Malcolm actually was fearing. To him, he was beginning to wonder if Hazel or him even mattered. If what Lucinda truly wanted was me. “Because they insisted,” she answered him. “So did Milo.” “I have much more faith that the Night Market will protect Hazel’s heart than I do that boy.” Leaning forward, she placed a coin in the fountain before turning and heading towards the familiar burnt out alley. “Coming?” I stepped towards Malcolm’s side. “Do we trust this?” “No.” He was looking towards where his mother disappeared. “But, I can’t walk away from Hazel. She’s right about one thing. I haven’t been there for her.” [[Not by choice]] [[A lot has been going on]] [[We can be there for her now]] There was something about her words that instantly irritated me. As if she were playing victim to a moment that she had only heard about. The woman had not put in the time. She had not been there for any of the events leading up to that day. Yet, she talked as if she had been affected herself. “Whatever this game is, I'm going to make something very clear to you. I have every right to be mad at Milo, but you do not. You have not been here. The actions were not done to you.” Lucinda looked around at the diminished lights. “This is my home as well. Shouldn’t I be upset? This is the world in which my children live and breathe and yet Milo has jeopardized that? Can I not be angry at the individual who has put my children in danger.” “Because you never did that once to us,” Malcolm muttered. "Why even bring us here? What's the end game for you?" “I brought you here because we are family,” Lucinda said softly. She looked as if she was about to step towards him. Take him into her arms. But Malcolm jerked away. “No,” he corrected. “Why bring $name here. I get you wanted to get me in your clutches, but why $name.” I realized what he was asking then. Why bring me here when I could potentially throw a wrench in her plans. Perhaps something had been done to Malcolm. Something had certainly been done to Hazel. But could Lucinda even touch me? With a sickening kind of realization I understood that’s what Malcolm actually was fearing. To him, he was beginning to wonder if Hazel or him even mattered. If what Lucinda truly wanted was me. “Because they insisted,” she answered him. “So did Milo.” “I have much more faith that the Night Market will protect Hazel’s heart than I do that boy.” Leaning forward, she placed a coin in the fountain before turning and heading towards the familiar burnt out alley. “Coming?” I stepped towards Malcolm’s side. “Do we trust this?” “No.” He was looking towards where his mother disappeared. “But, I can’t walk away from Hazel. She’s right about one thing. I haven’t been there for her.” [[Not by choice]] [[A lot has been going on]] [[We can be there for her now]]“Milo was played,” I said firmly. “By you, we are coming to realize.” I crossed my arms in front of me. It was the first time I said it outloud but the second I did, I believed it wholeheartedly. Milo was a victim in all of this along with the rest of us. “You give me far too much credit,” Lucinda said with a sad smile. “Thankfully, I am not here today to convince you of anything. I am simply here to bring you to Hazel.” “Why?” Malcolm croaked. There was a waver to his voice. Not that I thought he would believe her, but the very proximity to her presence somehow drained him. “Because we’re family,” Lucinda said softly. She looked as if she was about to step towards him. Take him into her arms. But Malcolm jerked away. “No,” he corrected. “Why bring $name here. I get you wanted to get me in your clutches, but why $name.” I realized what he was asking then. Why bring me here when I could potentially throw a wrench in her plans. Perhaps something had been done to Malcolm. Something had certainly been done to Hazel. But could Lucinda even touch me? With a sickening kind of realization I understood that’s what Malcolm actually was fearing. To him, he was beginning to wonder if Hazel or him even mattered. If what Lucinda truly wanted was me. “Because they insisted,” she answered him. “So did Milo.” “I have much more faith that the Night Market will protect Hazel’s heart than I do that boy.” Leaning forward, she placed a coin in the fountain before turning and heading towards the familiar burnt out alley. “Coming?” I stepped towards Malcolm’s side. “Do we trust this?” “No.” He was looking towards where his mother disappeared. “But, I can’t walk away from Hazel. She’s right about one thing. I haven’t been there for her.” [[Not by choice]] [[A lot has been going on]] [[We can be there for her now]]“It wasn’t your choice,” I told him. “You cannot blame yourself for this. Something is going on. Whether your mother is behind it or not isn’t even a question. Something has been done to keep you from your sister.” He looked unsure, his stare vacantly looking off towards the pathway home. Crossing that threshold held a context for him that was far greater than he could put into words. I knew everything in him was screaming not to go. But the love for his sister was propelling him forward. Then I saw it. The doubt. The insecurity. //I sometimes wonder if I’m enough// The mantra he used to whisper to the lights so long ago. Grabbing at his arm, I squeezed. “Mal, come on. You are a good brother. You know that. Don’t let this get in the way of that.” He blinked, shaking away whatever thoughts had begun to consume him. “Right,” he murmured. “No, you’re right.” I squeezed his hand, trying to give him an encouraging smile. He wouldn’t take his eyes off his mothers retreating form, however. The path before us was familiar as we walked towards the shell of the alleyway. Yet unlike before, there were no burnt remnants of old apothecary shops. Ghosts did not linger in the corners. Instead, the alley was thriving. It was nowhere near where I knew it could be but it was certainly more alive. The soot had been cleaned off. Doors rehung. Small flowers were even blooming in pots. “What is happening?” I asked. Malcolm was staring at everything with wide eyes. “People are moving back into the alley. That doesn’t make sense though. They hated my mother. Why would they move back in now that she’s back?” “We could ask,” I whispered. He shook his head. “Hazel. We need to get to Hazel.” The urge to stop, to take any of them aside, clawed at me. Ghosts had not only haunted this alley before, but they had been trapped here. They had gone mad within the deep shadows of the alleyway. But when Malcolm had been brought back, Hazel had taken each and every one of them and sacrificed them in trade for her brother's life. They did not return to the graveyard. They simply ceased to be. To see the thriving beginnings of life so suddenly was a whiplash that I had not been expecting. [[Next|Chapter Five 3]] “A lot has been going on,” I told him. The walls had kept him from her for the first part of the month. People were dying at a rapid rate. I had come back but not really. And his ex, the one who had started it all, was dancing in and out of his life. “So much that I just never saw my sister?” he asked. “Why would I do that?” I had no answer to that. Because it was a question I had asked myself as well. But I couldn’t bring myself to think that he did this on purpose. There was so much more going on than we could even hope to understand. “We’ll figure it out,” I encouraged. “Let’s get eyes on Hazel first. We can talk about this tonight.” Slowly, he nodded. Though, he watched his mothers retreating form with wary eyes. The path before us was familiar as we walked towards the shell of the alleyway. Yet unlike before, there were no burnt remnants of old apothecary shops. Ghosts did not linger in the corners. Instead, the alley was thriving. It was nowhere near where I knew it could be but it was certainly more alive. The soot had been cleaned off. Doors rehung. Small flowers were even blooming in pots. “What is happening?” I asked. Malcolm was staring at everything with wide eyes. “People are moving back into the alley. That doesn’t make sense though. They hated my mother. Why would they move back in now that she’s back?” “We could ask,” I whispered. He shook his head. “Hazel. We need to get to Hazel.” The urge to stop, to take any of them aside, clawed at me. Ghosts had not only haunted this alley before, but they had been trapped here. They had gone mad within the deep shadows of the alleyway. But when Malcolm had been brought back, Hazel had taken each and every one of them and sacrificed them in trade for her brother's life. They did not return to the graveyard. They simply ceased to be. To see the thriving beginnings of life so suddenly was a whiplash that I had not been expecting. [[Next|Chapter Five 3]] “We can be there for her now,” I told him. We should have pulled Hazel from the alley a long time ago. Perhaps when we knew Lucinda was back. Or maybe when she stopped coming around more. Malcolm should have gone to see her. Even Belladonna or Gabriel. But instead, she was alone. I had died by her best friend's hand and her brother had somehow forgotten about her. The guilt was a heavy shroud across Malcolm’s shoulders and I could feel a good part of it as if it were my own. We had made a few mistakes, but going forward, we could do better. The path before us was familiar as we walked towards the shell of the alleyway. Yet unlike before, there were no burnt remnants of old apothecary shops. Ghosts did not linger in the corners. Instead, the alley was thriving. It was nowhere near where I knew it could be but it was certainly more alive. The soot had been cleaned off. Doors rehung. Small flowers were even blooming in pots. “What is happening?” I asked. Malcolm was staring at everything with wide eyes. “People are moving back into the alley. That doesn’t make sense though. They hated my mother. Why would they move back in now that she’s back?” “We could ask,” I whispered. He shook his head. “Hazel. We need to get to Hazel.” The urge to stop, to take any of them aside, clawed at me. Ghosts had not only haunted this alley before, but they had been trapped here. They had gone mad within the deep shadows of the alleyway. But when Malcolm had been brought back, Hazel had taken each and every one of them and sacrificed them in trade for her brother's life. They did not return to the graveyard. They simply ceased to be. To see the thriving beginnings of life so suddenly was a whiplash that I had not been expecting. [[Next|Chapter Five 3]] Lucinda was already waiting at the front gate when we arrived. The apothecary looked the same. There was still the bent pipe poking from the top of the roof, puffing out morning smoke. The garden patches were still present at the side of the house and the flowers were eternally in bloom. But the apothecary had an air of something foreign around it. It didn’t smell like home. Of comfort. There was no fresh baked bread on the windowsill upstairs. The basil patches looked withered. And the wisps were gone from the tree above resulting in a much darker cast over the apothecary itself. Next to me, Malcolm was also clocking the changes. I watched as he silently took in each little bit of land that was Hazel’s. And which was his mothers. He was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Stepping inside the apothecary should have felt like coming home. The days I had spent here. Early moments where I hadn’t even known who I was or where I was. Coming to know the people in my life. Discovering bits and pieces of myself. Despite having forgotten almost everything, I learned how to be alive during those days. I had come to the market streets to know what it was that I was constantly protecting and at Hazel’s I discovered it. <<if $hazelro == "true">>Through her, I had discovered what falling in love was. How it could set my soul on fire and provide me with warmth at night.<</if>> I learned what living actually meant. I obtained connections with others. And now, I was discovering the ramifications of death. Of decisions made on a whim. Never fully thought out. Never understood. The apothecary was dark and smelled of patchouli. The bubbling cauldrons were all gone and in their steed were large alters where crow skulls floated above the surface, dripping with a thick green light. Bundles of herbs were hanging from the ceiling, covered in dust and the shelves that used to house grains and herbs and beautiful uncut stones, were replaced with potions and tomes that one could browse. There was nothing innately sinister about the shop itself. Yet, it didn’t feel like Hazel’s. The comfort and warmth that wrapped through the room was placed in the corners somewhere unknown. “Tea is ready!” Her voice wrapped around me in that way that I had been so used to. Early mornings coming downstairs. Bringing in wood from the back. Sitting and playing cards with her and Milo. Joking about how we could get Gabriel and Bella to join us. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Or other moments. Ones where we laid in bed, pressing our feet together. Hearing her whispering her little good morning song in my ear.<</if>> Hazel was coming out from behind the counter to greet her mother, but stopped as she saw the three of us. Or, more accurately, when she saw Malcolm. “Mal?” Her eyes were wide as she looked between her brother and mother. Like she couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing. Before, she would have ran to him. When he had returned, she vowed to hug him every single day. Now, she held herself back. “I decided enough was enough,” Lucinda said, breezing back through the room. “It was time for both of my children to be under the same roof.” I could feel the way that Malcolm tensed next to me, one of the keyes that Milo had given him clutched somewhere unseen. “I did wish for this to be a family reunion but $name here did insist that ?they come along as well.” Hazel was speechless, the words stuck in her throat. [[Alright, Lucinda. You’ve got us here. Now what?]] [[Hazel, come home]] “Alright, Lucinda. You’ve got us here. Now what?” Lucinda was the kind of woman that the words ulterior motive reeked from. The minimal fight she gave to have me here as well now felt far to suspicious to pass up. Lucinda gave me an admonishing look. The kind that said that I was clearly being impatient. “We came to take you from mother,” Malcolm told her. He held out his hand. “I know that I haven’t been here. I can’t even explain how or why. But I’m here now. Just take my hand and come with me.” The desperation in his voice was reminiscent of when he had first become the Gatekeeper. Back when he first started talking to the lights. I wondered if Hazel would hear it or if she would shy away from him like she did so many other situations. Lucinda was unconcerned by the entire display she gathered herbs and different ingredients. She was humming to herself, tossing a few things into a pot, releasing more steam into the already humid room. “Malcolm,” Hazel sighed. “I’m fine here. Mother and I are doing such wonderful things with the apothecary.” “Your apothecary,” he said. “//Yours//.” “Ours,” Hazel corrected. “It’s a family business.” “It’s not.” Stepping forward, he pressed his hands to her shoulders, leaning in close. “Come on,” he whispered. “You do not have to be here. I know you’re scared but let me take you back to my apartment.” Hazel pulled away. There was no animosity on her face but almost something akin to pity. “Malcolm, I know things have been tough. But mother is better. I promise. I’m happy here.” “You aren’t–” Lucinda cleared her throat. “Child of mine,” she crooned. “Please don’t tell your sister what she is and isn’t.” It was a clear reprimand. One that I could see Hazel listening to with ease but Malcolm only bristled. “Now, that all being said, I will excuse myself into the back room so you can have a talk with her. $name, would you like to join me?” “I’ll be staying. Thanks.” Lucinda smiled at me as she turned, already having guessed my answer, I assumed. Coming over to Hazel, she placed a hand on her. “I’ll be in the back processing some orders. The new tonic that you created is doing wonders.” Tipping her chin up, she smiled down at her daughter. “I am so proud of you.” The look that crossed Hazel’s face was one of complete adoration. Tears budded in her eyes at her mothers words and I could see in that moment that the hold Lucinda had been stringing her up in was nigh unbreakable now. The back door clicked shut and Lucinda was gone from our sights. I had no doubt that she was still able to listen in however. “Hazel, don’t do this,” Malcolm pleaded. “Come with $name and I. Talk with us. There is so much going on and you are just sequestered away here…” Hazel held up a hand, cutting Malcolm short. “You and mother have a lot between you. I understand that. But you cannot put that on me.” “I’m not putting it on you,” he snapped. “I have never put what has happened between mom and I on you.” “Haven’t you? I was always put in the middle of you two. From the time I was young. I couldn’t figure it out then but I can now. I don’t need to be in that position. I can love her while you still work things out with her.” “Put in the middle? Do you not remember the things she used to do to us? The days without food? The moments we were locked in the shed. She tried to kill Billows! Which, where even is that cat. His bowl isn’t even out here.” “Stop,” she said, storming across the room. “Just stop. Deal with your thing with mom. She’s changed, Malcolm. You really need to give her a chance.” “I don’t need to do a damn thing.” “Then why are you even here?” “For you!” [[Alright, both of you calm down]] [[I can see Hazel’s point]] [[Hazel, we are worried about you]]“Hazel.” I walked towards her just a little, putting urgency behind my words. “Malcolm and I are here to take you home.” She frowned at that, taking a step back. “I am home,” she said a bit confused. I could see how she looked towards her mother for reassurance. “We came to take you from mother,” Malcolm told her. He held out his hand. “I know that I haven’t been here. I can’t even explain how or why. But I’m here now. Just take my hand and come with me.” The desperation in his voice was reminiscent of when he had first become the Gatekeeper. Back when he first started talking to the lights. I wondered if Hazel would hear it or if she would shy away from him like she did so many other situations. Lucinda was unconcerned by the entire display she gathered herbs and different ingredients. She was humming to herself, tossing a few things into a pot, releasing more steam into the already humid room. “Malcolm,” Hazel sighed. “I’m fine here. Mother and I are doing such wonderful things with the apothecary.” “Your apothecary,” he said. “//Yours//.” “Ours,” Hazel corrected. “It’s a family business.” “It’s not.” Stepping forward, he pressed his hands to her shoulders, leaning in close. “Come on,” he whispered. “You do not have to be here. I know you’re scared but let me take you back to my apartment.” Hazel pulled away. There was no animosity on her face but almost something akin to pity. “Malcolm, I know things have been tough. But mother is better. I promise. I’m happy here.” “You aren’t–” Lucinda cleared her throat. “Child of mine,” she crooned. “Please don’t tell your sister what she is and isn’t.” It was a clear reprimand. One that I could see Hazel listening to with ease but Malcolm only bristled. “Now, that all being said, I will excuse myself into the back room so you can have a talk with her. $name, would you like to join me?” “I’ll be staying. Thanks.” Lucinda smiled at me as she turned, already having guessed my answer, I assumed. Coming over to Hazel, she placed a hand on her. “I’ll be in the back processing some orders. The new tonic that you created is doing wonders.” Tipping her chin up, she smiled down at her daughter. “I am so proud of you.” The look that crossed Hazel’s face was one of complete adoration. Tears budded in her eyes at her mothers words and I could see in that moment that the hold Lucinda had been stringing her up in was nigh unbreakable now. The back door clicked shut and Lucinda was gone from our sights. I had no doubt that she was still able to listen in however. “Hazel, don’t do this,” Malcolm pleaded. “Come with $name and I. Talk with us. There is so much going on and you are just sequestered away here…” Hazel held up a hand, cutting Malcolm short. “You and mother have a lot between you. I understand that. But you cannot put that on me.” “I’m not putting it on you,” he snapped. “I have never put what has happened between mom and I on you.” “Haven’t you? I was always put in the middle of you two. From the time I was young. I couldn’t figure it out then but I can now. I don’t need to be in that position. I can love her while you still work things out with her.” “Put in the middle? Do you not remember the things she used to do to us? The days without food? The moments we were locked in the shed. She tried to kill Billows! Which, where even is that cat. His bowl isn’t even out here.” “Stop,” she said, storming across the room. “Just stop. Deal with your thing with mom. She’s changed, Malcolm. You really need to give her a chance.” “I don’t need to do a damn thing.” “Then why are you even here?” “For you!” [[Alright, both of you calm down]] [[I can see Hazel’s point]] [[Hazel, we are worried about you]] “Both of you need to calm down.” I stepped between them. I understood the emotion but it felt too much like we were feeding into the chaos that Lucinda had tried to cultivate. “Just talk to each other,” I said. “Something is going on and I think we all need to sit down and share what we know.” “There is not some sort of conspiracy here,” Hazel yelled. “$name, you don’t know us. He does this. He leaves. Thank you for your concern but it is misguided.” “See? That’s why I know something is wrong,” Malcolm said. “You know $name. ?They are not an acquaintance. <<if $hazelro == "true">> They aren’t even just your friend.<</if>> But you don’t seem to be able to look at ?them for more than a few seconds. That’s a spell, Hazel. I can recognize one when I see it and you are covered with it. “You don’t know that,” she protested. “You are just assuming all of this based on things that have happened in the past. She said you would do this. She said you wouldn't understand that someone could change. And I’ve been defending you this entire time.” “She said that because she is manipulating you.” He stalked over to her, grabbing her by the arm. “You’re coming home with me. Now.” A bolt of green shot through the room, knocking Malcolm off his feet. Hazel’s eyes were black but she hadn’t even moved. The magic had bolted from her fingers and singed the floorboards on the ground. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said. “I will not be bullied into believing something. You are acting irrationally, Malcolm. You need to listen to her. Milo is our enemy. The things happening to the market are because of him. Not mother.” “Milo is not the enemy,” he hissed, slowly trying to pick himself up. “He is the scapegoat.” She rushed to him, clasping her hands together and kneeling by his side. “I believed it too, you know. I gave Milo every chance. Every excuse. But, Mal, he’s toxic. He’s going to destroy everything. He took the Gatekeeper job and is now using it for his own gains. You must see that.” [[He didn’t actually take the job]] [[Have you talked to Milo?]] [[Milo is not a mastermind]] “Okay, Malcolm, I hate to say this to you but I can see Hazel’s point here.” He whirled on me. “Excuse me.” I placed my hands up. “Hear me out. What your mother has done to you, the things she made you feel, was of course not okay. But that doesn’t mean that Hazel’s claim isn’t valid either. From what I’ve viewed, she does seem to be put in the middle of you two. Even now. I don’t think you are doing it intentionally but it is happening.” “I can’t do this,” Malcolm muttered. “We can have this conversation. That’s fine. I’ll even concede that some of my actions are not correct. But I am not having this conversation here.” “And I’m not leaving,” Hazel said. He stalked over to her, grabbing her by the arm. “You’re coming home with me. Now.” A bolt of green shot through the room, knocking Malcolm off his feet. Hazel’s eyes were black but she hadn’t even moved. The magic had bolted from her fingers and singed the floorboards on the ground. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said. “I will not be bullied into believing something. You are acting irrationally, Malcolm. You need to listen to her. Milo is our enemy. The things happening to the market are because of him. Not mother.” “Milo is not the enemy,” he hissed, slowly trying to pick himself up. “He is the scapegoat.” She rushed to him, clasping her hands together and kneeling by his side. “I believed it too, you know. I gave Milo every chance. Every excuse. But, Mal, he’s toxic. He’s going to destroy everything. He took the Gatekeeper job and is now using it for his own gains. You must see that.” [[He didn’t actually take the job]] [[Have you talked to Milo?]] [[Milo is not a mastermind]] I chose to step in then. “Hazel,” I started softly. “We are worried about you. So much is happening within the market. We just want to make sure you’re safe.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>“Why?” she asked. “You don’t even know me.” “I do,” I told her. “You just don’t remember and that’s part of what is concerning both Malcolm and I.” <</if>> “Listen to ?them, Hazel. This is far beyond what you think is going on and mom is behind it.” “You don’t know that,” she protested. “You are just assuming all of this based on things that have happened in the past. She said you would do this. She said you wouldn't understand that someone could change. And I’ve been defending you this entire time.” “She said that because she is manipulating you.” He stalked over to her, grabbing her by the arm. “You’re coming home with me. Now.” A bolt of green shot through the room, knocking Malcolm off his feet. Hazel’s eyes were black but she hadn’t even moved. The magic had bolted from her fingers and singed the floorboards on the ground. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said. “I will not be bullied into believing something. You are acting irrationally, Malcolm. You need to listen to her. Milo is our enemy. The things happening to the market are because of him. Not mother.” “Milo is not the enemy,” he hissed, slowly trying to pick himself up. “He is the scapegoat.” She rushed to him, clasping her hands together and kneeling by his side. “I believed it too, you know. I gave Milo every chance. Every excuse. But, Mal, he’s toxic. He’s going to destroy everything. He took the Gatekeeper job and is now using it for his own gains. You must see that.” [[He didn’t actually take the job]] [[Have you talked to Milo?]] [[Milo is not a mastermind]] “Hazel, he didn’t take the Gatekeeper job. You know that. You were there.” She turned to me with wild eyes. Her voice was dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I was. And I have thought a lot about that day. Milo was the pillar in that situation. Everything was revolving around him. He was after the Gatekeeper. He told everyone that he was hired to find them. What if when he did, he took matters into his own hands in order to take that power.” “Kavatti killed me,” Malcolm said. “Milo did not.” “Milo is an opportunist,” she said. “He was the one who set up the meeting for Kavatti to come to the apothecary that day. He was the one that convinced you to out yourself as Gatekeeper. He tried to get back together with you only days before you died! Wake up, Malcolm! He wanted this job and he killed you for it.” Malcolm shook his head in frustration. “I’m not buying it. Milo has been your friend for far longer than I have been friends with him. He was here for you after I died. He helped you rebuild this shop. I don’t believe you have had a change of heart. You always try to see the best in everyone and yet it has stopped the moment Lucinda comes back in the picture? None of that even seems remotely believable.” Hazel eyes were flat black now, the crackle of magic no longer coming from her but instead all around us. Weaving through the walls and trickling down each crack in skittering little forms that lurked around the perimeter of the room. “People can change, Malcolm. Milo changed. Mother has changed. I thought out of everyone you would understand that.” Malcolm’s gaze darkened. “If you are trying to relate what I went through with mother we are going to have a problem, Hazel. Tread lightly.” “No! I shouldn’t have to tread lightly. I am so sick of everyone thinking that they can tell me what my life should be like!” “That’s all mom does!” Malcolm was up on his feet now. I had never heard him raise his voice before. Not even when the world and he were at odds. “You are being manipulated! She is turning you away from me. Away from $name. She is leaving you with no support.” “How? Because she’s been here the last few months? Because she’s cared for me? Listened to me. Where were you, Mal? Where was my brother? Oh wait, he was off where he always is. Away from here, leaving me to deal with everything on my own.” “Hazel…” I began, but she whirled on me next. “And you. You say we know each other but I know nothing about you. You show up conveniently and start trying to take me away from my home? I want nothing to do with you. I don’t even want to see you. Whoever you are, whatever your game is, I am not playing.” “This is $name,” Malcolm said. “The Night Market. The one who slept in the upstairs bedroom. The one that was whisked away the night of the ball while the world went dark. Your friend. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Your lover.<</if>> Why can’t you remember?” “Stop it!” A loud crack sounded through the room as one of the support beams split down the middle. “Just go away. I want neither of you here! Just go!” The room around us began to crack and rumble, the boards shaking beneath our feet. Several vials from the back counters shattered while the fog from the back garden snapped against the windows with a violent crack. “Enough.” All went quiet. Lucinda walked in clearing the magic and creating a calm. Hazel was bent in two, sobbing as she held onto her stomach. Soft whimpers escaped her throat as she whispered to herself in comfort. “You’ve both made your point,” Lucinda said, a stern force by her daughter's side. “Perhaps we could start this again another time.” “I’m not leaving without her.” Whether it was from knowing Malcolm for years, or feeling something shift in the room, I knew he was searching for a way out. I could see Milo’s key in his hand, the tines of which were cutting into his flesh. “Are you going to force her to go? Because that’s what you’ll be doing?” Lucinda stated. “You’ve done something,” he hissed, walking towards his mother. “You’ve brainwashed her. You’ve always had your damn eyes set on her.” “I wasn’t aware that caring for her was a grievous thing.” “You’re not doing it this time,” he said to her. “You’re not ruining our lives. We survived you once, we’ll do it again.” Lucinda sighed sadly, reaching out to cup Malcolm’s cheek. He stepped back, however, teeth grinding together. She let her hand fall gracefully at her side. “You’ll come around,” she said. “Give it time and you’ll come around.” Walking over to Hazel still sobbing on the floor, I crouched down to her. [[Malcolm, use the key]] [[Come with us]] <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[I love you]]<</if>>“Have you talked to Milo about any of this?” I asked. Hazel whirled on me. “Have you?” The sound of Malcolm grinding his teeth was suddenly far too loud for comfort. Hazel was so out of the loop, that she hadn’t even realized that Milo was back. “You two are talking to him? Consorting with him? After everything that he has done.” “He’s the Gatekeeper,” Malcolm said with a sigh. “If we hope to fix any of this, it’s kind of necessary.” “You should kill him and get it over with,” she snarled. “Get a new Gatekeeper in place. One that actually knows what to do.” “Hazel, this is not you.” I had seen Hazel angry. I had seen Hazel angry at Milo. But not once had she ever wished him true harm. Hazel cried for the wisps that hit the window at night. She was the person who hadn’t wanted to leave the Apothecary due to the pure pain that emulsified the streets. To hear her so blatantly condemn Milo to death, was not her. Malcolm shook his head in frustration. “I’m not buying it. Milo has been your friend for far longer than I have been friends with him. He was here for you after I died. He helped you rebuild this shop. I don’t believe you have had a change of heart. You always try to see the best in everyone and yet it has stopped the moment Lucinda comes back in the picture? None of that even seems remotely believable.” Hazel eyes were flat black now, the crackle of magic no longer coming from her but instead all around us. Weaving through the walls and trickling down each crack in skittering little forms that lurked around the perimeter of the room. “People can change, Malcolm. Milo changed. Mother has changed. I thought out of everyone you would understand that.” Malcolm’s gaze darkened. “If you are trying to relate what I went through with mother we are going to have a problem, Hazel. Tread lightly.” “No! I shouldn’t have to tread lightly. I am so sick of everyone thinking that they can tell me what my life should be like!” “That’s all mom does!” Malcolm was up on his feet now. I had never heard him raise his voice before. Not even when the world and he were at odds. “You are being manipulated! She is turning you away from me. Away from $name. She is leaving you with no support.” “How? Because she’s been here the last few months? Because she’s cared for me? Listened to me. Where were you, Mal? Where was my brother? Oh wait, he was off where he always is. Away from here, leaving me to deal with everything on my own.” “Hazel…” I began, but she whirled on me next. “And you. You say we know each other but I know nothing about you. You show up conveniently and start trying to take me away from my home? I want nothing to do with you. I don’t even want to see you. Whoever you are, whatever your game is, I am not playing.” “This is $name,” Malcolm said. “The Night Market. The one who slept in the upstairs bedroom. The one that was whisked away the night of the ball while the world went dark. Your friend. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Your lover.<</if>> Why can’t you remember?” “Stop it!” A loud crack sounded through the room as one of the support beams split down the middle. “Just go away. I want neither of you here! Just go!” The room around us began to crack and rumble, the boards shaking beneath our feet. Several vials from the back counters shattered while the fog from the back garden snapped against the windows with a violent crack. “Enough.” All went quiet. Lucinda walked in clearing the magic and creating a calm. Hazel was bent in two, sobbing as she held onto her stomach. Soft whimpers escaped her throat as she whispered to herself in comfort. “You’ve both made your point,” Lucinda said, a stern force by her daughter's side. “Perhaps we could start this again another time.” “I’m not leaving without her.” Whether it was from knowing Malcolm for years, or feeling something shift in the room, I knew he was searching for a way out. I could see Milo’s key in his hand, the tines of which were cutting into his flesh. “Are you going to force her to go? Because that’s what you’ll be doing?” Lucinda stated. “You’ve done something,” he hissed, walking towards his mother. “You’ve brainwashed her. You’ve always had your damn eyes set on her.” “I wasn’t aware that caring for her was a grievous thing.” “You’re not doing it this time,” he said to her. “You’re not ruining our lives. We survived you once, we’ll do it again.” Lucinda sighed sadly, reaching out to cup Malcolm’s cheek. He stepped back, however, teeth grinding together. She let her hand fall gracefully at her side. “You’ll come around,” she said. “Give it time and you’ll come around.” Walking over to Hazel still sobbing on the floor, I crouched down to her. [[Malcolm, use the key]] [[Come with us]] <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[I love you]]<</if>>“Hazel,” I began. “Milo is not a mastermind. The things that are happening in this market are not due to some plan that he has. He has nothing to gain from all of this.” “Whereas my mother does?” She looked at me with a pitying look. “Do you know what she’s done since she’s been back? Been here. With me. Helping me through…” When she trailed off, we could both see it. The blank kind of confusion to her face wrinkled her brow. “Helping you through what?” I urged. “What is it that happened?” “The lanterns went out,” she said. “Yes. And why did they go out?” “Because Milo made them go out. He did this.” Agitation started coloring her words, the black film across her eyes sparking between the deepest night and stormy green. “He has admitted to it.” “Why did he do it?” Malcolm urged. “I don’t know. Does it matter? Look at the world around us? It’s dying. So many people are dying.” Her voice cracked, the raw pain of the state of the market wrapping around her in a chokehold. “This is happening because of Milo. Our world is going to fall because of him.” Malcolm shook his head in frustration. “I’m not buying it. Milo has been your friend for far longer than I have been friends with him. He was here for you after I died. He helped you rebuild this shop. I don’t believe you have had a change of heart. You always try to see the best in everyone and yet it has stopped the moment Lucinda comes back in the picture? None of that even seems remotely believable.” Hazel eyes were flat black now, the crackle of magic no longer coming from her but instead all around us. Weaving through the walls and trickling down each crack in skittering little forms that lurked around the perimeter of the room. “People can change, Malcolm. Milo changed. Mother has changed. I thought out of everyone you would understand that.” Malcolm’s gaze darkened. “If you are trying to relate what I went through with mother we are going to have a problem, Hazel. Tread lightly.” “No! I shouldn’t have to tread lightly. I am so sick of everyone thinking that they can tell me what my life should be like!” “That’s all mom does!” Malcolm was up on his feet now. I had never heard him raise his voice before. Not even when the world and he were at odds. “You are being manipulated! She is turning you away from me. Away from $name. She is leaving you with no support.” “How? Because she’s been here the last few months? Because she’s cared for me? Listened to me. Where were you, Mal? Where was my brother? Oh wait, he was off where he always is. Away from here, leaving me to deal with everything on my own.” “Hazel…” I began, but she whirled on me next. “And you. You say we know each other but I know nothing about you. You show up conveniently and start trying to take me away from my home? I want nothing to do with you. I don’t even want to see you. Whoever you are, whatever your game is, I am not playing.” “This is $name,” Malcolm said. “The Night Market. The one who slept in the upstairs bedroom. The one that was whisked away the night of the ball while the world went dark. Your friend. <<if $hazelro == "true">> Your lover. <</if>> Why can’t you remember?” “Stop it!” A loud crack sounded through the room as one of the support beams split down the middle. “Just go away. I want neither of you here! Just go!” The room around us began to crack and rumble, the boards shaking beneath our feet. Several vials from the back counters shattered while the fog from the back garden snapped against the windows with a violent crack. “Enough.” All went quiet. Lucinda walked in clearing the magic and creating a calm. Hazel was bent in two, sobbing as she held onto her stomach. Soft whimpers escaped her throat as she whispered to herself in comfort. “You’ve both made your point,” Lucinda said, a stern force by her daughter's side. “Perhaps we could start this again another time.” “I’m not leaving without her.” Whether it was from knowing Malcolm for years, or feeling something shift in the room, I knew he was searching for a way out. I could see Milo’s key in his hand, the tines of which were cutting into his flesh. “Are you going to force her to go? Because that’s what you’ll be doing?” Lucinda stated. “You’ve done something,” he hissed, walking towards his mother. “You’ve brainwashed her. You’ve always had your damn eyes set on her.” “I wasn’t aware that caring for her was a grievous thing.” “You’re not doing it this time,” he said to her. “You’re not ruining our lives. We survived you once, we’ll do it again.” Lucinda sighed sadly, reaching out to cup Malcolm’s cheek. He stepped back, however, teeth grinding together. She let her hand fall gracefully at her side. “You’ll come around,” she said. “Give it time and you’ll come around.” Walking over to Hazel still sobbing on the floor, I crouched down to her. [[Malcolm, use the key]] [[Come with us]] <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[I love you]]<</if>> I could see it clearly, as if the future was laid out before me. If we did not get Hazel out of here, she was going to be gone. Taken from us forever. There was a hold that was placed on her here. Something that was rooting her to the very floorboards. Even when Lucinda had not been here, Hazel had still been trapped. She had been glued to these walls, encased in a prison built by her mother and then supported by her own actions. Hazel felt as if we had abandoned her. We needed to make sure that there was no truth in those words. “Malcolm, use the key.” The expression that crossed his face was one of indecision. But, Milo had been right to give him the key. It was our failsafe. The one thing we used only if necessary. And right now, it was necessary. The key appeared in his hand, already glowing. It burned bright, stinging his palm. He hissed in disapproval as it dropped to the floor. Everything then happened at once. A large door began to crack through the floorboards, searing into the pine and blackening the edges. As Hazel began to wail, Malcolm stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest. I ran towards the two of them, grabbing at the door handle forming against the trapdoor, and ripping it open before it was fully formed.. A swirling mass of amber light blared from the opening, blinding the three of us as we stumbled forward. There was no grace or finesse as we fell through. I looked up at the last moment, my hands scratching through the air as I tried to catch the edge of something to close the door behind us. But I had already hit the floor beneath me with a loud crack. But, Lucinda was hovering up above. She said nothing. Nothing at all. And closed the door for the two of us. I swore I saw the beginnings of a smile on her lips as the door was sealed and gone once more. “Let go of me! Let go!” Hazel’s screams were so loud that a ringing began to sound in my ears. I heard a thud as Malcolm was pushed off her. “Hazel, calm down. Please, you have to just–” There was the sound of shattering glass as something was thrown. The spinning that took place around us slowed as I refocused my gaze, adjusting to the fact that we were in Malcolm’s apartment suddenly. Malcolm was on the ground still, panting, while Hazel was now standing. Milo stood in the doorway that led to the bedroom, a shattered lamp next to him. “You,” Hazel hissed, storming forward. “How dare you. How //fucking// dare you–” Milo held up his hands, backing away until he hit the wall. Hazel had him cornered, green light glowing from her palm as she charged towards him. The crack that sounded through the room as she slapped him across the face was like a bullet. Milo’s head was turned to the side, a red welt beginning to form. “You did all of this,” Hazel began to yell. “We are all dying because of you!” [[Hazel, stop. Please]] [[Wait and see what Milo is going to do]] [[Let Malcolm intervene]] <<set $hazelkey to "true">>“Come with us,” I whispered. “Please. Somewhere in there you know something is wrong. This isn’t you.” She didn’t look up at me. I wasn't even sure if she heard my voice. Instead, she continued to rock back and forth, muttering to herself softly as she dug her nails into the side of her head. “Please try to understand,” Lucinda was saying, still addressing her son. “Hazel has been through a lot and I think you and I need to put the past behind us in order to help her.” “I will never be on the same side as you,” Malcolm growled. “And when I come back, I’m taking her from you. You’ll burn again, mother. I’ll be the one to light the match.” I looked at Hazel one last time, wishing I could whisk her away from this all. But in doing so, I had a feeling we would be putting an entire world of hurt on our shoulders. And there was no guarantee it would break the spell. Standing, I came to Malcolm’s side. “We’ll be back,” I assured Hazel. But I looked at Lucinda. I needed her to know, this was not the wedge that it looked like. Turning and walking away was one of the hardest things Malcolm had to do. I put my hand on his arm, letting him know I was still there. Yet, surprisingly, he stormed out the door, far ahead of me. And I was just left to follow. [[Next|Chapter Five 4]] <<set $hazelkey to "false">> She was curled in on herself, rocking back and forth and muttering words that I couldn’t quite understand. With everything I had in me, I reached out, forcing my hand out and touching her cheek softly. I didn’t know if I could touch her. I could feel her, but she didn’t look at me. There wasn’t even a twitch of recognition. “I love you,” I whispered softly, feeling my throat tighten. “Whatever is happening, I want you to remember that. I love you. And I’m not leaving you. I know you’re in there somewhere. We’ll be back for you as soon as we can figure out a way to help you.” But she didn’t hear me. As she rocked back and forth, the shadows around us began to creep closer. Swirling around her in protection. They gently nudged me away. Back to my feet and towards the door. Malcolm was not far behind. “Please try to understand,” Lucinda was saying, still addressing her son. “Hazel has been through a lot and I think you and I need to put the past behind us in order to help her.” “I will never be on the same side as you,” Malcolm growled. “And when I come back, I’m taking her from you. You’ll burn again, mother. I’ll be the one to light the match.” I looked at Hazel one last time, wishing I could whisk her away from this all. But in doing so, I had a feeling we would be putting an entire world of hurt on our shoulders. And there was no guarantee it would break the spell. Standing, I came to Malcolm’s side. “We’ll be back,” I assured Hazel. But I looked at Lucinda. I needed her to know, this was not the wedge that it looked like. Turning and walking away was one of the hardest things Malcolm had to do. I put my hand on his arm, letting him know I was still there. Yet, surprisingly, he stormed out the door, far ahead of me. And I was just left to follow. [[Next|Chapter Five 4]] <<set $hazelkey to "false">> The air felt stagnant. As I walked outside and through the gate, I felt my chest constrict. The magic in this sector was far thicker than what it had been before. The electric current that had ridden beneath the ash was now gone. I wanted to say that life was growing in its place but it felt sticky somehow. Much less rooted in reality than the crumbling streets beyond. Malcolm walked through the renewed apothecary alley, shoving past vendors and families all moving in. I tried to keep up with him but bustling people kept getting in front of me. All of them greeted me with a smile and a little nod to their head. “Oh! Excuse me!” “Pardon!” “Watch it. Please?” I cut through most of them, stopping at the edge of the alley and looking around for Malcolm. I spotted him a few people away, staring at a young woman. Her feet were floating above the ground and her robes were tattered. But she looked corporeal. “Isn’t it wonderful? There is now a place for us wanderers. Somewhere we can set up shop.” Malcolm looked on edge. He didn’t share the excitement of the alley. “You could set up shop anywhere. Why here?” The woman tittered in laughter. “Because of death, of course.” I arrived at their side, bumping myself against Malcolm to let him know I was there. “Death?” I asked. “The stench of it is so strong,” she grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful?” “Why would death…?” “She’s a banshee,” Malcolm said. “They are attracted to where the veils are the thinnest and where we have had mass casualties.” “With the curse having been lifted, we’ve finally been able to move back in.” “What curse?” I asked. But even as I did, I knew it was the curse that had fallen from Lucinda’s lips the moment she died. The one that kept all the spirits trapped here. The spirits that Hazel then used for a sacrifice in order to get Malcolm back. “Couldn’t even breathe the air here before,” another was saying. A man came out of the shop we were gathered around. He set down a large crate of empty bottles before coming over and placing an arm around the banshee’s shoulder. “Was completely inhabitable. The ladies down in the apothecary filtered the air for us. Put out the word that it was safe here. People are traveling from all over to come stay here now.” “Get out,” Malcolm immediately said. The couple's smiles were frozen, their eyes ticking to me as if I could explain the joke. Around us, several others stopped, setting down their wares. A few, pushing children behind their back. “We uh– we bought this plot fair and square,” the man continued. “But if you are wanting something I think there are a few more open shops down the way.” “All of you are fools for being here. Get out. Leave now before that witch uses you for whatever fodder she needs.” [[Stop Malcolm]] [[Agree with Malcolm]] [[Stay neutral]]“Malcolm, stop,” I told him under my breath. I angled my body in such a way to put myself between them. “They don’t deserve this. They are just living their life.” “And their life isn’t going to be very long if they don’t get out of here,” he growled. I smiled at the couple, clearly seeing how this was going to go nowhere good. “Uh, I hope you have an easy move in,” I said. I quickly urged Malcolm away then, not giving him a choice to stay. We stopped at the three tiered fountain where Malcolm stared at the candles. ;The lines of his face were tight and strained. Asking him if he was alright was not worth the effort. It was clear that he was not. “What do you want to do?” I asked him softly. The candles flickered. A last bastion against the dark. The shadows wove up and down his brown skin like shifting tattoos. So much of his world was shattered. Shifting and morphing into the nightmare he had always feared. I just wanted to help. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “But Hazel can’t stay there. The longer Lucinda has her claws sunk in, the harder it will be to bring Hazel back.” [[We can’t just drag her away]] [[We can try to forcibly remove her]] [[Milo gave you that key. Do you think you could still open a door]] I kept my voice low. “Look, we have reason to believe that this place might not be as safe as you have probably been led to believe.” The banshee laughed. “Oh, honey. This is the Night Market. We never feel safe.” I stopped, feeling my breath punch out of me. I had cultivated a place of comfort for so many. What did she mean? “Come on,” Malcolm said. “They’re brainwashed.” Taking me by the elbow, he led me away. I stared back at the couple's confused face as I was led off. Why didn’t they feel safe? We stopped at the three tiered fountain where Malcolm stared at the candles. ;The lines of his face were tight and strained. Asking him if he was alright was not worth the effort. It was clear that he was not. “What do you want to do?” I asked him softly. The candles flickered. A last bastion against the dark. The shadows wove up and down his brown skin like shifting tattoos. So much of his world was shattered. Shifting and morphing into the nightmare he had always feared. I just wanted to help. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “But Hazel can’t stay there. The longer Lucinda has her claws sunk in, the harder it will be to bring Hazel back.” [[We can’t just drag her away]] [[We can try to forcibly remove her]] [[Milo gave you that key. Do you think you could still open a door]]“This alley has a lot of history,” I said, trying to smooth over the tense moment. “I do hope you all the best here. I’m sure it can become beautiful once more." The couple smiled at me but said nothing. I quickly urged Malcolm away. We stopped at the three tiered fountain where Malcolm stared at the candles. ;The lines of his face were tight and strained. Asking him if he was alright was not worth the effort. It was clear that he was not. “What do you want to do?” I asked him softly. The candles flickered. A last bastion against the dark. The shadows wove up and down his brown skin like shifting tattoos. So much of his world was shattered. Shifting and morphing into the nightmare he had always feared. I just wanted to help. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “But Hazel can’t stay there. The longer Lucinda has her claws sunk in, the harder it will be to bring Hazel back.” [[We can’t just drag her away]] [[We can try to forcibly remove her]] [[Milo gave you that key. Do you think you could still open a door]] I didn’t necessarily disagree with Malcolm but I wasn’t sure what it was we were supposed to do. “We can’t just drag her away,” I told him. “She already doesn’t trust us. If we do that then we’re just pushing her further and further away.” “There’s a part of me that doesn’t care,” he confessed. “Because at least she’d be safe, right? At least she wouldn’t be brainwashed.” I reached out for him. “I don’t think you can guarantee that.” We walked a little further. Far away from Lucinda’s prying ears. Neither of us knowing how far her reach stretched. “We should talk about what happened back there,” I encouraged softly. Malcolm was not a man to lose control of his emotions. Not for a lot of years. Yet today, in the face of his mother and his sisters' ailing health, I had seen a glimpse of the man he had never wanted to be. “It won’t happen again,” he assured me. “No, Mal. That’s not what–” “I know,” he snapped. The second the words left him I saw his shoulders bunch up and his movements stop. He took a few deep breaths, in and out through his nose. “I’m sorry, Lamplight.” “It’s okay,” I told him. Lucinda brought that out in him. I could only imagine the whiplash that he was experiencing. “Malcolm, there is a lot going on. More than any one person should have to handle. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to feel some strong emotions.” A bitter smile crossed him. “Thank you. I know. But, I would rather not if I can. I promise, however, I’ll find a more productive way to express myself while dealing with my family issues.” That had not been what I was after. And while Malcolm was very good at getting himself back under control, I didn’t believe that this was a problem that would easily go away. But I could see the effort. And to poke holes in it in the middle of the alleyway, so soon after his fight with his sister? It felt like the wrong move. [[So instead I hugged him]] [[I wanted to kiss him]] [[I need to go check on Gabriel]] “We can forcibly try to remove her,” I said. “Wait until Lucinda leaves and nab her.” “Hazel has magic,” Malcolm said. “A lot of magic. If she feels threatened for even a second, not only will that apothecary protect her, but she could obliterate us instantly.” “Then what?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said, pacing back and forth. “I don’t know.” We walked a little further. Far away from Lucinda’s prying ears. Neither of us knowing how far her reach stretched. “We should talk about what happened back there,” I encouraged softly. Malcolm was not a man to lose control of his emotions. Not for a lot of years. Yet today, in the face of his mother and his sisters' ailing health, I had seen a glimpse of the man he had never wanted to be. “It won’t happen again,” he assured me. “No, Mal. That’s not what–” “I know,” he snapped. The second the words left him I saw his shoulders bunch up and his movements stop. He took a few deep breaths, in and out through his nose. “I’m sorry, Lamplight.” “It’s okay,” I told him. Lucinda brought that out in him. I could only imagine the whiplash that he was experiencing. “Malcolm, there is a lot going on. More than any one person should have to handle. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to feel some strong emotions.” A bitter smile crossed him. “Thank you. I know. But, I would rather not if I can. I promise, however, I’ll find a more productive way to express myself while dealing with my family issues.” That had not been what I was after. And while Malcolm was very good at getting himself back under control, I didn’t believe that this was a problem that would easily go away. But I could see the effort. And to poke holes in it in the middle of the alleyway, so soon after his fight with his sister? It felt like the wrong move. [[So instead I hugged him]] [[I wanted to kiss him]] [[I need to go check on Gabriel]] “I saw Milo give you that key. Do you think you could open a door? Use it to get Hazel out?” Malcolm pulled it from his pocket. It was a little thing. Unassuming and chipped. It buzzed with anticipation, however. Excited for its purpose in life. “I don’t know if I could use it. I remember how but I’m not the Gatekeeper any longer. I don’t know if the powers mine.” “Maybe you should practice. See what it can do.” He flipped it over in his hands. “Maybe.” Then, tucking it away, he tipped his head back. “I’ll figure something out with Hazel. I don’t know what it will be yet but I’ll get her out. Lucinda is not winning. Not this time.” We walked a little further. Far away from Lucinda’s prying ears. Neither of us knowing how far her reach stretched. “We should talk about what happened back there,” I encouraged softly. Malcolm was not a man to lose control of his emotions. Not for a lot of years. Yet today, in the face of his mother and his sisters' ailing health, I had seen a glimpse of the man he had never wanted to be. “It won’t happen again,” he assured me. “No, Mal. That’s not what–” “I know,” he snapped. The second the words left him I saw his shoulders bunch up and his movements stop. He took a few deep breaths, in and out through his nose. “I’m sorry, Lamplight.” “It’s okay,” I told him. Lucinda brought that out in him. I could only imagine the whiplash that he was experiencing. “Malcolm, there is a lot going on. More than any one person should have to handle. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to feel some strong emotions.” A bitter smile crossed him. “Thank you. I know. But, I would rather not if I can. I promise, however, I’ll find a more productive way to express myself while dealing with my family issues.” That had not been what I was after. And while Malcolm was very good at getting himself back under control, I didn’t believe that this was a problem that would easily go away. But I could see the effort. And to poke holes in it in the middle of the alleyway, so soon after his fight with his sister? It felt like the wrong move. [[So instead I hugged him]] [[I wanted to kiss him]] [[I need to go check on Gabriel]] Instead, I hugged him. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him close, feeling the way his body fell against mine. It felt like home. His arms wrapped around my waist, hands splaying against my back and running up and down my spine. I could feel his heart beating against my own. The scent of green tea and woodsmoke surrounding me. It was far better than looking down at this man from the safety of the lights. “I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” I whispered to him. Since the first day he had opened up to me, sitting on the rooftop and pouring his heart out. “I have too.” Pulling away, he looked at me softly, the tension of the day easing. I didn’t want to let him go. The comfort that that single moment provided was more than I could ever remember having. Malcolm was the first to move away, his head ducking a little as the lights of the candles played across his face. “You should go check on the Gabriel situation,” he told me softly. “We need to know what’s going on there.” “You want to come with me?” “Actually, I may need a moment,” he said sheepishly. “Seeing my mother again was one of those things that I hoped I’d never have to do.” “That’s fair,” I told him. “I’ll come find you. After I know what’s going on.” He waved me off. “Take care of you first. I can wait.” Reaching out, he squeezed my hand before glancing up at the broken lights. Slowly, he looked back down at me, drawing a line before the broken lamps and the person standing before him. “Be safe,” he told me. Turning, he walked away, taking a slow stroll into the dark. He didn’t look back, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the alley beyond. It was a glaring problem. One in which we’d have to address. But for now, I had to direct my attention to the other half of the market. With a sigh, I gathered myself. From Lucinda to the Guard. What could go wrong? [[Next|To Gabriel]] It washed over me with such a quick gust that I nearly stumbled. I wanted to kiss him. More than anything I just wanted to pull him into my arms and press my lips to his. Suddenly, I wanted to know how he tasted. What he felt like beneath my fingers. If he would lean into the kiss. Allow me to tangle my hands in his hair. “Are you okay?” I was staring at him with wide eyes as the feelings tumbled over me. My cheeks colored with a heat I hoped I could play off from the flame of the candles. “Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and taking a step away. “Yeah. Of course.” I was gesturing to the alley behind me, hoping somehow that would cover the unexplained amount of emotion that had filled me when I looked at Malcolm. “It was a lot. I get it.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sucked in a deep calming breath, trying to rid himself of the last of his mothers words. “You should go check on the Gabriel situation,” he told me softly. “We need to know what’s going on there.” “You want to come with me?” “Actually, I may need a moment,” he said sheepishly. “Seeing my mother again was one of those things that I hoped I’d never have to do.” “That’s fair,” I told him. “I’ll come find you. After I know what’s going on.” He waved me off. “Take care of you first. I can wait.” Reaching out, he squeezed my hand before glancing up at the broken lights. Slowly, he looked back down at me, drawing a line before the broken lamps and the person standing before him. “Be safe,” he told me. Turning, he walked away, taking a slow stroll into the dark. He didn’t look back, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the alley beyond. It was a glaring problem. One in which we’d have to address. But for now, I had to direct my attention to the other half of the market. With a sigh, I gathered myself. From Lucinda to the Guard. What could go wrong? [[Next|To Gabriel]] I felt tired and the day was only half over. “I need to go check on Gabriel,” I told him. The market was under attack from both sides and while I didn’t particularly have fondness for the guards, I knew that dismantling them couldn’t happen overnight. And it certainly couldn’t happen this way. Malcolm nodded. “I agree. Whatever is happening there is going to have far reaching repercussions. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Do you think it’s safe to go check on Gabriel alone?” “I’m just trying to find him. I need to lay eyes on him. See if he even remembers what he’s done.” “You think he won’t?” Part of me really hoped that he didn’t.<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">>The guard is on edge. And a twitchy guard is not good for anyone.” “Gabriel will know what’s going on,” I said, trying to assure both him and myself. “I just hope I can find him. I still haven’t really seen him since coming back.” “A lot has been going on. It’s understandable. We’ll have time soon.<</if>> “You want to come with me?” “Actually, I may need a moment,” he said sheepishly. “Seeing my mother again was one of those things that I hoped I’d never have to do.” “That’s fair,” I told him. “I’ll come find you. After I know what’s going on.” He waved me off. “Take care of you first. I can wait.” Reaching out, he squeezed my hand before glancing up at the broken lights. Slowly, he looked back down at me, drawing a line before the broken lamps and the person standing before him. “Be safe,” he told me. Turning, he walked away, taking a slow stroll into the dark. He didn’t look back, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the alley beyond. It was a glaring problem. One in which we’d have to address. But for now, I had to direct my attention to the other half of the market. With a sigh, I gathered myself. From Lucinda to the Guard. What could go wrong? [[Next|To Gabriel]] It turned out, a lot. There was a man made barricade set up in the only open alley leading towards the beach. Several large guards were placed outside of it, magic flickering in runic lines in the broken cobblestones and their swords placed over their right shoulder. “Hello?” I tried. They were staring straight forward but I could see the stress tightening at the corners of their eyes. Two of them had blood dripping from the sleeves of their jackets, pooling beneath their polished boots. Upon closer inspection, I could see the torn clothes. The dirty blades. The bruised knuckles. “We’re sorry. By order of the Velvet Guard, the road is closed.” I tried to look past them. Towards the long line of non descript road ahead. “I can see that,” I said. “Why?” “Irrelevant,” another one said. “Move along.” I squashed down my irritation. The inability to answer such a simple question was beyond them at the moment. There was a caveat to being part of the Velvet Guard. Whoever deemed themselves the protector of the market, seemed to have any sort of common sense sucked out of them. It was a failing and one that I was going to take responsibility for. Mainly because I didn’t think that anyone else would. “I’m here to see Gabriel Caine,” I told them. “I’m a friend of his.” None of them spoke.. “The Warden is expecting me,” I lied. Still nothing. As if on the wind, panic began to wind around me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>Something was going on and Gabriel didn’t have the capability of handling it. The last time I saw him he looked haggard at best. And while I wasn’t sure what it was I expected to do, I felt the jolt in the pit of my stomach. The one said someone needed to be saved. <<elseif $gabrielbreak == "true">> They knew. They had to know what had happened. There was blood on their Warden’s hands and I wasn’t sure how far the Guard was going to go to protect him from any sort of consequences. Or if Gabriel had even come forward for confession. There was a part of me that expected him to be in the jail cells, having locked himself away.<</if>> “That seems doubtful,” one of them said. I snapped my eyes towards them. It was a guard I had seen a few times before. In fact, he looked to be one of the only guards I had actually witnessed inside Kimbers shop. His name started with an R. Kimber had mentioned it a few times while she looked at him with doe eyes. “Richie, right?” I asked. He glanced towards me, the other officers shifting uncomfortably. “Look, I just need to go see the Warden. I–” “The Warden is disposed of, at the moment.” It was the tall one. He seemed to be the leader of some sort. I vaguely recognized him from when I had first arrived to the Market. “Move along.” “Listen, I–” “Can I escort you back to Artisan Alley?” It was Richie. He took a step forward, past the ire of his commanding officer. “Get you back to Kimbers? That’s where you live, right?” I remembered him now. The one that had stood by Gabriel’s side just yesterday. He knew who I was. Had more respect for me than most. “That would be nice, yes.” [[Next|Chapter Five 6]] We didn’t speak as we walked away. Richie didn’t look over his shoulder at the other individuals he worked with. The few times I caught his eye, I could see the slight shake of his head. There was always rumor that the Velvet Guard’s reach went far. At this moment, I didn’t doubt it. We were halfway towards Artisan Alley when he finally broke the silence. His steps were clipped as we wound down the pathways, his breath coming out in a long hiss as he looked around, making sure we were still alone. “As of this evening, Gabriel Caine has been deposed as Warden.” “What?” I stumbled to a stop. The Night Market had already been plunged into chaos and the very idea that Gabriel was stripped of his title was baffling. It left the realm in a precarious position. Not because I believed Gabriel was doing a morally great job at patrolling the world, but because I didn’t trust whoever was going to take his place. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">> I rubbed a hand across my eyes, feeling the grit of the day gathering. “How? Why?” I asked. “There was an incident within the market. An entire unit lost their lives. Twenty of them were simply cut down.” I had heard about it from Marie. As sad as it was to say, it wasn’t like this would have been the first time. People lost their lives within the market far too often. More often than what was spoken of. And in those losses, there were many guards. Taken down in a single incident. “Alright, but what does this have to do with Gabriel?” “He’s the one that took them down.” <<elseif $gabrielbreak == "true">> I rubbed a hand across my eyes, feeling the grit of the day beginning to gather. “I was there. I saw what happened in the alley.” Richie looked at me in surprise. “Then you know why he has been deposed.” “It wasn’t him,” I said quickly. Except, that it was. But how was I to explain that he wasn’t in his right mind? “Gabriel is sick,” I tried to explain. “Something is happening to him. If you have worked with him at all you know that he cares for the people of this market more than anything.” “Twenty of the guard were slaughtered today,” Richie said, his voice filled with grief. I winced. “I’m sorry. I really am.” “But?”<</if>> [[What did they do?]] [[He must have had a reason]] <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>[[Gabriel wouldn’t do such a thing]]<</if>>“What did they do?” The surprise that crossed Richie’s face was surpassed by the incredulous horror. “Nothing. I don’t care who you are. You don't deserve to be cut down. Not like that.” Some people did. It was a fact of life that I had observed. But with Richie’s reaction, I felt a small jolt against that part of my brain that was supposed to have empathy. The heart of the market. That’s what I was. Right? “I just mean, he would have had to have some sort of reason to do what he did. I haven’t seen him go out and just slaughter people.” That was against everything Gabriel stood for. “I do not know,” he told me softly. “But I think you could go and figure it out.” There was a thin little break in the wall. “That leads to the other half of the alley. The one we have blocked. I don’t know where he is in all that but he is there. He never escaped. Find him and figure out what happened before the guard finds him. Maybe there is still hope.” I stared at the fissure in the stone. It was only big enough to fit my hand through. “Do you know how I’m supposed to get through there?” I asked. He looked at me curiously. “You’re the Night Market. Just move the wall.” When I stared at him, he blushed. “Respectfully, of course.” There was something so odd about people knowing that I was the Night Market now. A reverence came from Richie that I had never expected. Nor was I sure I wanted it. But, the confidence in which he thought I could just move the wall, gave me hope. Maybe it really was that simple. Placing my hand on the wall, I closed my eyes. I could feel it. A current of life flowing beneath the surface. It pulsed sluggishly as it tried to solidify itself. Little bits of life and magic that was trying to become stone so as to keep the walls of the market high and safe. My fingers twitched, however, beckoning the magic forward. Waking the essence that flowed within the rock. Stepping forward, I pressed my body against the wall, whispering to it. I just needed a small opening. Nothing more. I only needed to have a way through. One for me alone. Surely that was not much to ask. The wall heated beneath my skin, rumbling as small pebbles began to fall to the ground. The bits of rock vibrating around my feet, jumping and skittering excitedly around me. They began to form around me, pulling away from the wall and forming into a small split. I could feel all of it. With my eyes still closed, I could see how I wanted the wall to look. The way I wished for it to open. It was when I heard Richie’s intake of breath that I knew I had succeeded. Stepping away, there was a small crack within the wall. Just big enough for me to slip through. I looked at Richie over my shoulder. His head was bowed in reverence. “I wish you luck, Night Market,” he whispered. I nodded to him before I slipped through the wall, off to find Gabriel. <<if $help == "reese">> [[Next|Gabriel Reese]] <<elseif $help == "elias">> [[Next|Gabriel Elias]] <<elseif $help == "belladonna">> [[Next|Gabriel Reese]] <</if>>“He must have had a reason.” I stood numbly before him. The cracked lines that had been spreading across Gabriel’s skin flashed before my eyes. His grace. The very thing that kept him sane. The Fallen were not meant to survive and yet somehow Gabriel had surpassed all expectations and had become a Warden. Flaws ran rampant within his actions but it was still better than what it had been. What it could have been. And now this. “What reason is there to kill that many?” Richie was asking. There had to be some sort of reasoning behind it. It was all I could think of. And then I remembered that this was the man who had threatened to throw me in a pit due to not even telling him my name. "I just cannot believe that he would do something like that for nothing." “I do not know,” he told me softly. “But I think you could go and figure it out.” There was a thin little break in the wall. “That leads to the other half of the alley. The one we have blocked. I don’t know where he is in all that but he is there. He never escaped. Find him and figure out what happened before the guard finds him. Maybe there is still hope.” I stared at the fissure in the stone. It was only big enough to fit my hand through. “Do you know how I’m supposed to get through there?” I asked. He looked at me curiously. “You’re the Night Market. Just move the wall.” When I stared at him, he blushed. “Respectfully, of course.” There was something so odd about people knowing that I was the Night Market now. A reverence came from Richie that I had never expected. Nor was I sure I wanted it. But, the confidence in which he thought I could just move the wall, gave me hope. Maybe it really was that simple. Placing my hand on the wall, I closed my eyes. I could feel it. A current of life flowing beneath the surface. It pulsed sluggishly as it tried to solidify itself. Little bits of life and magic that was trying to become stone so as to keep the walls of the market high and safe. My fingers twitched, however, beckoning the magic forward. Waking the essence that flowed within the rock. Stepping forward, I pressed my body against the wall, whispering to it. I just needed a small opening. Nothing more. I only needed to have a way through. One for me alone. Surely that was not much to ask. The wall heated beneath my skin, rumbling as small pebbles began to fall to the ground. The bits of rock vibrating around my feet, jumping and skittering excitedly around me. They began to form around me, pulling away from the wall and forming into a small split. I could feel all of it. With my eyes still closed, I could see how I wanted the wall to look. The way I wished for it to open. It was when I heard Richie’s intake of breath that I knew I had succeeded. Stepping away, there was a small crack within the wall. Just big enough for me to slip through. I looked at Richie over my shoulder. His head was bowed in reverence. “I wish you luck, Night Market,” he whispered. I nodded to him before I slipped through the wall, off to find Gabriel. <<if $help == "reese">> [[Next|Gabriel Reese]] <<elseif $help == "elias">> [[Next|Gabriel Elias]] <<elseif $help == "belladonna">> [[Next|Gabriel Reese]] <</if>>“Gabriel wouldn’t do such a thing. He loves the guard.” Meticulously he trained them. Holding them accountable for their actions. Or what he perceived their actions to be. There were several things wrong with what they did but Gabriel offered them leniency. For him to cut them down was nearly unspeakable. Then again, this was the same man who threatened to throw me in a pit for not divulging my name. “One got away,” Richie stated. There was a haunted look in his eyes. These were his colleagues. His friends. They had all died by the hands of the man who they were supposed to blindly follow. “They were there at the incident. He led an entire crew to an out of the way area of the market and started slaughtering them. We don’t know why. But he has been stripped of his title.” “No, there has to be a mistake.” Richie had a stiffness to his shoulders. How easily he wanted to fall into that belief. The Warden, the one he looked up to, had fallen from what they were telling him. Who was to be believed? “I do not know,” he told me softly. “But I think you could go and figure it out.” There was a thin little break in the wall. “That leads to the other half of the alley. The one we have blocked. I don’t know where he is in all that but he is there. He never escaped. Find him and figure out what happened before the guard finds him. Maybe there is still hope.” I stared at the fissure in the stone. It was only big enough to fit my hand through. “Do you know how I’m supposed to get through there?” I asked. He looked at me curiously. “You’re the Night Market. Just move the wall.” When I stared at him, he blushed. “Respectfully, of course.” There was something so odd about people knowing that I was the Night Market now. A reverence came from Richie that I had never expected. Nor was I sure I wanted it. But, the confidence in which he thought I could just move the wall, gave me hope. Maybe it really was that simple. Placing my hand on the wall, I closed my eyes. I could feel it. A current of life flowing beneath the surface. It pulsed sluggishly as it tried to solidify itself. Little bits of life and magic that was trying to become stone so as to keep the walls of the market high and safe. My fingers twitched, however, beckoning the magic forward. Waking the essence that flowed within the rock. Stepping forward, I pressed my body against the wall, whispering to it. I just needed a small opening. Nothing more. I only needed to have a way through. One for me alone. Surely that was not much to ask. The wall heated beneath my skin, rumbling as small pebbles began to fall to the ground. The bits of rock vibrating around my feet, jumping and skittering excitedly around me. They began to form around me, pulling away from the wall and forming into a small split. I could feel all of it. With my eyes still closed, I could see how I wanted the wall to look. The way I wished for it to open. It was when I heard Richie’s intake of breath that I knew I had succeeded. Stepping away, there was a small crack within the wall. Just big enough for me to slip through. I looked at Richie over my shoulder. His head was bowed in reverence. “I wish you luck, Night Market,” he whispered. I nodded to him before I slipped through the wall, off to find Gabriel. <<if $help == "reese">> [[Next|Gabriel Reese]] <<elseif $help == "elias">> [[Next|Gabriel Elias]] <<elseif $help == "belladonna">> [[Next|Gabriel Reese]] <</if>> The alley felt endless. Running my fingers along the lines of the stone, I listened for the route out, closing my eyes and following the sound of waves. <<if $help == "reese">>I had told Belladonna to get Reese. He was the one who would know what to do. His methods were harsh but he would be able to subdue the man that Gabriel was transforming into. My only hope was that he didn’t kill him on sight. <<elseif $help == "belladonna">> I had sent Belladonna to find Gabriel. There were times that I thought she may be one of the only ones to get through to him. Now, as I felt death sneak closer and closer, I couldn't help but wonder if that had been the right decision. Their friendship was only newly rekindled. Before, they had barely been able to stand the sight of eachother.<</if>> There was a wet moan against the sound of crashing waves. I stopped, listening and singling out several souls. They were dying. Their bodies had been washed away in the current. Waving my hand across the wall, the bricks moved, allowing me a small passage towards the beach. As my eyes adjusted I looked towards the tide. Translucent souls hovered there, still moaning in death, their bodies lying beneath them covered in sand. Paper crabs were scuttling up from the deep, cutting into the bloated flesh and sucking out the insides. Others wove small glass bottles together, saving the essence of these souls for later. “Boy, you’re going to fuckin’ stop whatever this shit is and come home with me. Now.” I whipped around. Far beyond, near the tide pools and canyons, stood Reese. Gabriel was before him, covered in blood, his hair matted to his forehead. His sword was absent. Stuck within a body not far from me. “Get away from me, Reese. I should have killed you a long time ago. The only reason I spared you is because of your compassion.” “My compassion?” the man barked. “You’ve always been a bit deluded, Gabe, but this takes it all.” There was an oddity to Gabriel’s voice. One that was filled with a discordant tone. Reese seemed unconcerned by it but I could hear it. It was a precursor to the actions that followed. Gabriel launched himself from the sand and towards Reese, kicking up dirt and rock as he went. It was sloppy. Far sloppier than I had ever seen Gabriel be. Reese simply stepped aside, looking down at his son in pity. “Stop this,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to have to knock you out to get you to listen.” “I don’t have to listen to you,” Gabriel growled. He was struggling to even stand. “What have you ever even done for me?” “Took you in. Clothed you. Given you a roof. Love. Understanding.” Reese tapped out each point on his fingers. “I thought I rid you of the bullshit rhetoric of the Knowing but alas, not even I am that good it seems.” “You are not my father,” Gabriel hissed. When he looked up at Reese, his eyes were glowing bright, the light of which dripped down his cheeks in a mimicry of tears. “You are nothing to me.” Reese knelt down then, getting close to Gabriel’s face. The two men looked at each other, Reese completely composed, Gabriel with a murderous rage etched in cutting lines across his jaw and brow. “It’s a shame you feel that way, son,” Reese said. “Doesn’t change the fact that I love you, though.” Thunder cracked across the sky as Reese called down a bolt of lightning. It hit Gabriel in the shoulder, his skin sizzling beneath it. Knees buckling, Gabriel fell to the ground, impaled on a fulgurite. I ran towards the two of them, watching as Reese rose to his feet. Gabriel’s eyes were closed, his body arched with his limbs off to the side in a limp display. “What did you do?” I yelled at him. <<if $help == "belladonna">> This wasn't right. Belladonna was supposed to be here. She was the one who was supposed to find Gabriel. This wasn't supposed to happen.<</if>> Slowly, Reese got to his feet. The hardened sand impaled Gabriel through the hip, lifting him off the ground. Reese took his sword, slashing through it. I watched as it crumbled and Gabriel fell to the ground. “He’ll be okay,” Reese grunted. I skidded to a stop in front of the two of them, staring down at the lax face of the former warden. The skin of his cheeks were cracked and bleeding, small fissures spreading out like webs from the corners of each eye. <<if $help == "reese">>[[Did Belladonna get a hold of you?]] <<elseif $help == "belladonna">>[[Where's Belladonna?|Did Belladonna get a hold of you?]]<</if>> [[Something is happening to him]] [[He doesn’t look okay]] The alley felt endless. Running my fingers along the lines of the stone, I listened for the route out, closing my eyes and following the sound of waves. I had told Belladonna to get Elias. The only one I knew of in the entire market that had lived with the madness. He defeated his fate and if Gabriel was going to do the same, he needed him. It was a risk, but it may be the only option I had. “You mustn’t.” I heard a soft whisper. The childlike voice ran through the alleyways, calling to me. The command wasn’t for me but I used it all the same. It was my Baron who spoke. Elias. Following his voice, I picked up my pace as I ran down the alleyway, hearing the soft humming. “My poor boy. This isn’t you. You know this is not you.” The tears were evident in his voice. Weeping that I was suddenly unaccustomed began trickling towards me, calling out like it always did. The pain felt like a heavy shroud, suffocating me until I could reach out and help. I skidded to a stop at a portion of the alleyway, pulling open the wall. Light poured in. Dripping, sickly, silver light. It cascaded down the walls like mercury as I found two people huddled together in a cave. Gabriel lay on the ground crying, his head in Elias’s lap. “$name,” Elias breathed. “It is good you are here.” Slowly, I stepped forward, the wall closing behind me. The cave was plunged into darkness aside from the small little bits of broken grace that were littered around us. I knelt down in front of them. Gabriel’s eyes were cinched shut, the parched cracks in his face much deeper than before. “Gabriel?” I asked. He gave no sign of hearing me other than the way his hand tightened on Elias’s knee. “He’s past speech now,” Elias said. “It can happen in moments like this.” “What do you mean moments like this?” The violet eyes that stared back at me were much more coherent than I remembered them before. “The madness.” He spoke through a thick wall of emotion, his fingers tightening around Gabriel’s shoulders. “It’s the beginning of the end. He’ll have bouts where he loses himself. I’m afraid this is one of them.” [[Is there anything we can do]] [[I don’t accept that]] [[You haven’t succumbed yet]]<<if $help == "reese">>“Did Belladonna get a hold of you?” I panted. Reaching into his pocket, Reese pulled out a small bit of parchment. It was a tiny paper bat that fluttered around. It went limp in the palm of his hand as he unfolded it. There, on the paper, was Belladonna’s scrawl. //Gabriel. Now.// And just like that Reese had gone to him. Without question. Without knowing a single thing that had happened. Gabriel had slaughtered his way through the beach and Reese had kept his own emotions in check in order to come and save his son.<<elseif $help == "belladonna">> "Where's Belladonna? She's the one I sent to find him?" Reaching into his pocket, Reese pulled out a small bit of parchment. It was crumpled and stained but looked as if it had once been a bat. "She sent me a message telling me to find Gabriel and subdue him. I don't ask questions when that girl comes callin'." "She didn't say what happened to her?" "No. But it's a good thing she wasn't here. He would have killed her. Walked in on him sayin' something about the unclean." I felt sick. If Gabriel's madness had truly taken hold, he wouldn't blink an eye to rid the market of vampires. Starting with their Baron.<</if>> “How come his skin won’t heal?” I asked. He had these cracked, parched lines all across him. They seemed to get worse each time I saw him. “Manifestation of the madness.” Reese just stared at him, his expression blank. “It’ll tear him apart in the end.” The finality in his voice scared me more than anything. The years that Reese and Elias had spent together were profound. Once, they had thought that their love would see them through. But the madness still gripped Elias and whatever had happened in their past had torn them apart. Now Elias was a manic in his own little corner of the market, cutting up people in the name of perfection and the Knowing. And Reese was a drunk on the beach. [[There has to be something we can do]] [[We need to get him to Elias]] “Something is happening to him.” I sucked in a few ragged breaths, my eyes lingering upon Gabriel’s prone body. Reese sniffed, looking down at Gabriel’s body with an odd expression. “This has been happenin’ to him since the day he fell. Just finally caught up with him, is all.” “How come his skin won’t heal?” I asked. He had these cracked, parched lines all across him. They seemed to get worse each time I saw him. “Manifestation of the madness.” Reese just stared at him, his expression blank. “It’ll tear him apart in the end.” The finality in his voice scared me more than anything. The years that Reese and Elias had spent together were profound. Once, they had thought that their love would see them through. But the madness still gripped Elias and whatever had happened in their past had torn them apart. Now Elias was a manic in his own little corner of the market, cutting up people in the name of perfection and the Knowing. And Reese was a drunk on the beach. [[There has to be something we can do]] [[We need to get him to Elias]] “He doesn’t look okay,” I said. Reese got stiffly to his feet. “He’s unconscious. He should heal just fine. One of the perks of Madness. They heal like none other.” I remembered the way Elias’s skin stitched back together so easily. Cuts that had been clawed across his face with his own hands were not there moments later. And as I looked at Gabriel now, I already saw the wound near his hip closing and the flesh that bubbled from the lightning bolt beginning to smooth out. “How come his skin won’t heal?” I asked. He had these cracked, parched lines all across him. They seemed to get worse each time I saw him. “Manifestation of the madness.” Reese just stared at him, his expression blank. “It’ll tear him apart in the end.” The finality in his voice scared me more than anything. The years that Reese and Elias had spent together were profound. Once, they had thought that their love would see them through. But the madness still gripped Elias and whatever had happened in their past had torn them apart. Now Elias was a manic in his own little corner of the market, cutting up people in the name of perfection and the Knowing. And Reese was a drunk on the beach. [[There has to be something we can do]] [[We need to get him to Elias]] “There has to be something we can do.” Someone we could contact. A trick up Reese’s sleeve at the eleventh hour. Because this could not happen. The lanterns were not allowed to go dark. The world was not allowed to end. I was not doomed to die. And Gabriel was not supposed to succumb to the torture that had befallen so many others of his kind. “Help me get him home where I can take care of him. I took care of Elias for years. I can help my own son.” “How?” “As the Night Market, I’m not sure you really should know.” Walking over, he picked up Gabriel, flinging him over his shoulder. “Gabriel is my concern. You all are my concern.” For too long, I had been passive. I had come down here because of what? Because I wanted to experience love? Because I had felt saddened by the inability to live what I perceived as an exciting and glorious life. Not once had I thought of the consequences. I never once thought about the people that I may have been affecting. A shard of me was ripped out and I just assumed it would all be okay. I just wanted my family safe. “Be concerned all you want,” Reese was muttering as he began walking down the beach. “But just stay out of my way.” [[You are one of my Barons. I can make you listen]] <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[I love him. Absolutely not]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[I love him. Absolutely not]]<</if>>“We need to get him to Elias.” Already I was trying to think of ways to drag him across the market and into the bright lights of the Dollmakers realm. “As much as I hate to admit it, the man is still here. He is still alive. Madness has overtaken him but Elias is not dead.” “And would you like Gabriel to turn into what Elias has?” Reese said through gritted teeth. There was so much more swirling in his eyes. A love that had once been pure. But everything that I had thought was good about this world was slowly becoming muddied. “I don’t want him dead!” “Then help me get him home where I can take care of him. I took care of Elias for years. I can help my own son.” “How?” “As the Night Market, I’m not sure you really should know.” Walking over, he picked up Gabriel, flinging him over his shoulder. “Gabriel is my concern. You all are my concern.” For too long, I had been passive. I had come down here because of what? Because I wanted to experience love? Because I had felt saddened by the inability to live what I perceived as an exciting and glorious life. Not once had I thought of the consequences. I never once thought about the people that I may have been affecting. A shard of me was ripped out and I just assumed it would all be okay. I just wanted my family safe. “Be concerned all you want,” Reese was muttering as he began walking down the beach. “But just stay out of my way.” [[You are one of my Barons. I can make you listen]] <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[I love him. Absolutely not]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[I love him. Absolutely not]]<</if>> He had dismissed me. From the fragmented bits of memory I had of Reese, or when the gate opened and I was able to pull him here, pull Elias here, I knew he was a taciturn man. The best of his people and the last of his kind. He had no reason to listen to me. A literal child in his eyes. “You are one of my Baron’s, you know. I can make you listen.” It was an attempt but one I knew held little weight. Because like the Baron’s, I was authority in name only right now. His bark of laughter crashed against the waves. “Do it, then,” he challenged. “Someone in this world should exert some control.” We walked in silence. Gabriel was dead weight in Reese’s arms. Behind us, was a trail of bodies, disappearing into the Deep. I hoped that Kamille would take care of their souls. Or that Bardle and Kai would put them to rest. The death that had befallen the market today, due to Gabriel’s hands, could not be overlooked. Yet, what else was I supposed to do? Gabriel was many things, but he was not this. A cold blooded killer. I knew very little about the Knowing’s madness. Not many survived long enough to find out what it could do. Gabriel’s mental fortitude had always been strong. Yet, now I wondered if that was the problem. Was he holding on to a point of detriment? <<if $gabrielro == "true">> Immediately I felt sick for thinking of it. I didn’t want to see a world without Gabriel. Or one in which he turned to the ways of Elias. I had to find a way to help him. Get him past this point. And yet, by doing so, I was going to forget about all the blood that was soaking his hands. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> Immediately I felt sick for thinking of it. I didn’t want to see a world without Gabriel. Or one in which he turned to the ways of Elias. There were times that I caught a look in Belladonna’s eyes. This kind of fear that she sometimes had when glancing at Gabriel. He was a light she expected to go out. It was now flickering and waning in the dark and each time it burned bright again, blood laid in its wake.<</if>> The cottage by the babbling brook came into view some time later. Reese stormed ahead, kicking open the door to his cottage. “I’m gonna get him settled,” he said over his shoulder. “Do him a favor and brew the tea that's in the purple tin in the back of the pantry.” He didn’t explain any further as he walked into a room, shutting the door behind him with a bang. [[Reese, he killed a lot of people today]] [[Brew the tea]] [[No, I’m going in there]] Gabriel’s hand was limp down Reese’s back. With each step the Baron took, his body was jostled. As I looked at him, I struggled to see the man I had come to know. The kindness hidden beneath the mask. The confusion when a question of morality was broached. I had to bring it back. I was the heart of the market. It was my job to bring him back. “I love him. Absolutely not.” I rushed to keep up with them, falling in step at Reese’s side. Reese looked at me sadly. “Love, huh? Sorry about that. Might be the worst affliction someone can have.” He kept walking, traversing over the rocky terrain with ease. I followed in silence, not understanding how we managed to keep to the cottage from the beach. Or how Gabriel had not woken up yet. We walked in silence. Gabriel was dead weight in Reese’s arms. Behind us, was a trail of bodies, disappearing into the Deep. I hoped that Kamille would take care of their souls. Or that Bardle and Kai would put them to rest. The death that had befallen the market today, due to Gabriel’s hands, could not be overlooked. Yet, what else was I supposed to do? Gabriel was many things, but he was not this. A cold blooded killer. I knew very little about the Knowing’s madness. Not many survived long enough to find out what it could do. Gabriel’s mental fortitude had always been strong. Yet, now I wondered if that was the problem. Was he holding on to a point of detriment? <<if $gabrielro == "true">> Immediately I felt sick for thinking of it. I didn’t want to see a world without Gabriel. Or one in which he turned to the ways of Elias. I had to find a way to help him. Get him past this point. And yet, by doing so, I was going to forget about all the blood that was soaking his hands. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> Immediately I felt sick for thinking of it. I didn’t want to see a world without Gabriel. Or one in which he turned to the ways of Elias. There were times that I caught a look in Belladonna’s eyes. This kind of fear that she sometimes had when glancing at Gabriel. He was a light she expected to go out. It was now flickering and waning in the dark and each time it burned bright again, blood laid in its wake.<</if>> The cottage by the babbling brook came into view some time later. Reese stormed ahead, kicking open the door to his cottage. “I’m gonna get him settled,” he said over his shoulder. “Do him a favor and brew the tea that's in the purple tin in the back of the pantry.” He didn’t explain any further as he walked into a room, shutting the door behind him with a bang. [[Reese, he killed a lot of people today]] [[Brew the tea]] [[No, I’m going in there]] There was no time to question it. Briefly, I remembered Gabriel saying that Reese had dealt with this before. When he and Elias had been together, Reese had been the one to administer treatments. To ground Elias when the nights got too bad. When they had found Gabriel, right after the fall, the two of them had helped him through the initial fever that came with being cast from the Knowing. There was no room to question Reese with Gabriel’s madness so close to the surface. If he said to brew some strange tea, then that’s what I was going to do. I found the tin canister in the back of the cabinet, covered in a layer of dust. The hinge was rusted and opened with a squeak, spitting out bits of debris from the unused joints. Inside, was small silver pebbles that resembled bits of resin. They hummed as they rolled around in the box. “Grace,” I murmured. I knew it without question. These were little bits of grace that Reese had sequestered away. It was illegal to have unsanctioned grace in your possession. It was a rare commodity and an item in which many had killed over. Swallowing, I placed the old cast iron kettle on the stove, beginning to boil water. I could hear murmuring from the other room but didn’t know if it was simply Reese speaking to Gabriel, or if Gabriel had risen himself. I held my breath, hoping that no commotion followed, and instead looked around the room. The kitchen was cluttered, filled to the brink with empty bottles and old dishes. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I remembered the night Reese had cooked for Gabriel and I. He had been immaculate. The space he lived in was a far cry from the dish he had prepared.<</if>> When the kettle brewed, I dropped one of the pearls of grace into a boiling cup before pouring the water over it. The water turned silver with an oil slick top. It smelled foul and was certainly not what I expected something celestial to taste. I simply hoped, however, it would stave off the worst of the symptoms. Knocking on the door before I slipped inside, I spotted Reese standing by the bed. Silently, I handed him the tea. “We’re gonna have to hold him down. He’ll naturally fight us on this. Do you want to be a part of this?” I glanced at the man on the bed. He looked so peaceful suddenly. So distant from the man that had torn flesh with his bare hands. “What does the tea do?” Reese was already moving to Gabriel’s bedside, clearing away any objects within the man's reach. “Helps ease some of the more violent urges that the madness brings. It’ll wear off after a bit but it’ll help give him a chance to rest.” “He looks as if he’s resting now.” “That’s because I knocked him out with a lightning bolt.” Looking over his shoulder, he gave me an impatient glance. “You can either help, or leave the room.” “No, I’ll help,” I said quickly. “I’ll help.” “Good. I’ll hold him down. You put it in his mouth.” [[Next|Tea]] I followed Reese in. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the man but I wasn’t going to let him take charge. The second we came to the door, he spun around. Lightening reflected in his eyes, running up his tattoo’s and over corded muscle. “What are you doing?” “I’m going with you.” His hand was braced on the door giving me a good look at his Baron ring. “You’re not,” he said. “Because you’re going to do as I say and brew tea.” “Gabriel is my responsibility. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> The man I love. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> The man I love.<</if>> I’m going in there and I’m helping.” I jumped as Reese’s fist slammed against the door frame. The wood beneath splintered, cutting across the weathered skin of his hand. “You can either brew the tea, or get the fuck out,” he hissed. “I don’t care if you are the fucking Night Market. You have no idea what you’re dealing with. And every second you argue with me, is another second he slips away from us. So, do what you’re told or get the fuck out of my way so I can save my damn kid.” He opened the door to Gabriel’s room and slammed it with a resounding bang. The house groaned upon impact. I had half a mind to storm in there despite his words and demand that he leave. But, Reese was right. I had no idea how to help Gabriel. And unfortunately, he did. I found the tin canister in the back of the cabinet, covered in a layer of dust. The hinge was rusted and opened with a squeak, spitting out bits of debris from the unused joints. Inside, was small silver pebbles that resembled bits of resin. They hummed as they rolled around in the box. “Grace,” I murmured. I knew it without question. These were little bits of grace that Reese had sequestered away. It was illegal to have unsanctioned grace in your possession. It was a rare commodity and an item in which many had killed over. Swallowing, I placed the old cast iron kettle on the stove, beginning to boil water. I could hear murmuring from the other room but didn’t know if it was simply Reese speaking to Gabriel, or if Gabriel had risen himself. I held my breath, hoping that no commotion followed, and instead looked around the room. The kitchen was cluttered, filled to the brink with empty bottles and old dishes. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I remembered the night Reese had cooked for Gabriel and I. He had been immaculate. The space he lived in was a far cry from the dish he had prepared.<</if>> When the kettle brewed, I dropped one of the pearls of grace into a boiling cup before pouring the water over it. The water turned silver with an oil slick top. It smelled foul and was certainly not what I expected something celestial to taste. I simply hoped, however, it would stave off the worst of the symptoms. Knocking on the door before I slipped inside, I spotted Reese standing by the bed. Silently, I handed him the tea. “We’re gonna have to hold him down. He’ll naturally fight us on this. Do you want to be a part of this?” I glanced at the man on the bed. He looked so peaceful suddenly. So distant from the man that had torn flesh with his bare hands. “What does the tea do?” Reese was already moving to Gabriel’s bedside, clearing away any objects within the man's reach. “Helps ease some of the more violent urges that the madness brings. It’ll wear off after a bit but it’ll help give him a chance to rest.” “He looks as if he’s resting now.” “That’s because I knocked him out with a lightning bolt.” Looking over his shoulder, he gave me an impatient glance. “You can either help, or leave the room.” “No, I’ll help,” I said quickly. “I’ll help.” “Good. I’ll hold him down. You put it in his mouth.” [[Next|Tea]] “Is there anything that we can do?” I asked him. There had to be something. A future that belonged in Fate's hands left very little comfort. This idea that we had to simply accept what was coming had been a worn old adage I had used time and again. It kept me from having to make potentially fatal decisions. But now that I was living my life, I found myself railing against it. “There is, but I do not believe Gabriel has been following my instructions.” Elias had a weary look to him. He had seen this coming long before and yet his hands had been tied. “I’ve been meeting with him for months now and yet he is getting worse.” I looked around, searching for signs of predators. Someone who would pick us off at our weakest moment. “We need to get him somewhere safe and then figure out what to do next,” I reasoned. “I’m not sure where that should be. The guard is after him. They have taken away his title. They are going to arrest him.” Given who the Velvet Guard was, I was unsure what that actually meant. Elias shook his head. “No. The Guard will not have him.” “Then we cannot just stay here.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">> Kneeling in front of them, I reached out, running my fingers across Gabriel’s cheek. He was so cold. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> Kneeling in front of them, I reached out, running my fingers across Gabriel’s cheek. He was so cold.<</if>> “I am not going to be able to carry him,” Elias said. “But I will get some of the dolls to come and help. Will you hold him? Let him feel your warmth? Love is often the best remedy for madness.” Elias was already shifting Gabriel to my lap, placing his head upon my knee. I opened my mouth to protest, unsure if the presence of the dolls was going to be helpful in any way. But Elias was humming something angelic towards Gabriel, giggling under his breath. When he stood, he forgot the horror that had been placed in his hands only moments before and instead, skipped off, disappearing with a hum. It was a toss up whether or not he would even return with help. [[Next|Chapter Five 7]] I shook my head. “I don’t accept that.” To think that we should just give up and accept a fate given to him by a force that didn’t care, was not something I was willing to entertain. The Knowing had cast him here to kill him but we could not let them win. “There’s a way around this.” “There isn’t,” Elias cried. Instantly he winced, trying to hold back his outburst. Years had been spent beating off the same madness and while Elias was still standing, the price had been severe. And we both knew it was one that Gabriel was not willing to take. “We are going to help him,” I stated. “The actions he is taking are not like him. I don’t care if it's madness or not, he won’t be able to live with himself if he continues this way. He slaughtered a portion of the guard today.” Elias giggled. “Yes, that vampire wench actually looked upset by that.” It was no secret that Belladonna and Elias hated each other. Whatever petty argument they had needed to be set aside for Gabriel’s sake. “Watch it, Elias. I sent her to help Gabriel. Not for you two to continue an old feud.” He bristled a little, rocking Gabriel back and forth. “We don’t need that beast. Never have. She ruined everything for us. Everything.” He began running his fingers through Gabriel’s locks, his gaze distant. His pale fingers caught on chunks of dried blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>”That is my lover you are speaking of,” I warned. Elias’s nose wrinkled. “I would suggest setting your standards higher.” If Gabriel had not been in Elias’s arms, I would have walked away. That being said, I clenched my jaw and counted to ten. I needed his help if I wanted Gabriel to actually get through this. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “Both Gabriel and I feel differently,” I told him firmly. “Try not to piss the Night Market and your son off in one sentence.” Elias looked as if he were about to protest but thought better of it. Or, he got distracted by the way Gabriel was shivering. Either way, I was thankful for the conversation not to be continuing.<</if>> “We need to get him somewhere safe and then figure out what to do next,” I reasoned. “I’m not sure where that should be. The guard is after him. They have taken away his title. They are going to arrest him.” Given who the Velvet Guard was, I was unsure what that actually meant. Elias shook his head. “No. The Guard will not have him.” “Then we cannot just stay here.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">> Kneeling in front of them, I reached out, running my fingers across Gabriel’s cheek. He was so cold. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> Kneeling in front of them, I reached out, running my fingers across Gabriel’s cheek. He was so cold.<</if>> “I am not going to be able to carry him,” Elias said. “But I will get some of the dolls to come and help. Will you hold him? Let him feel your warmth? Love is often the best remedy for madness.” Elias was already shifting Gabriel to my lap, placing his head upon my knee. I opened my mouth to protest, unsure if the presence of the dolls was going to be helpful in any way. But Elias was humming something angelic towards Gabriel, giggling under his breath. When he stood, he forgot the horror that had been placed in his hands only moments before and instead, skipped off, disappearing with a hum. It was a toss up whether or not he would even return with help. [[Next|Chapter Five 7]] “You haven’t succumbed yet,” I pointed out to him. A fact he surely had to know. The defeatist attitude that was swirling in Elias’s eyes was not encouraging. “There has to be a way to live with the madness.” “Several ways, from what I have learned. They are only bandaids but enough bandaids can keep your insides from pouring out,” Elias said. “Though, I am unsure if they are actions Gabriel wishes to take. He wanted to take matters into his own hands.” “He slaughtered the guard.” Elias giggled. “Yes, that vampire wench actually looked upset by that.” It was no secret that Belladonna and Elias hated each other. Whatever petty argument they had needed to be set aside for Gabriel’s sake. “Watch it, Elias. I sent her to help Gabriel. Not for you two to continue an old feud.” He bristled a little, rocking Gabriel back and forth. “We don’t need that beast. Never have. She ruined everything for us. Everything.” He began running his fingers through Gabriel’s locks, his gaze distant. His pale fingers caught on chunks of dried blood. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>”That is my lover you are speaking of,” I warned. Elias’s nose wrinkled. “I would suggest setting your standards higher.” If Gabriel had not been in Elias’s arms, I would have walked away. That being said, I clenched my jaw and counted to ten. I needed his help if I wanted Gabriel to actually get through this. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> “Both Gabriel and I feel differently,” I told him firmly. “Try not to piss the Night Market and your son off in one sentence.” Elias looked as if he were about to protest but thought better of it. Or, he got distracted by the way Gabriel was shivering. Either way, I was thankful for the conversation not to be continuing.<</if>> “We need to get him somewhere safe and then figure out what to do next,” I reasoned. “I’m not sure where that should be. The guard is after him. They have taken away his title. They are going to arrest him.” Given who the Velvet Guard was, I was unsure what that actually meant. Elias shook his head. “No. The Guard will not have him.” “Then we cannot just stay here.” <<if $gabrielro == "true">> Kneeling in front of them, I reached out, running my fingers across Gabriel’s cheek. He was so cold. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> Kneeling in front of them, I reached out, running my fingers across Gabriel’s cheek. He was so cold.<</if>> “I am not going to be able to carry him,” Elias said. “But I will get some of the dolls to come and help. Will you hold him? Let him feel your warmth? Love is often the best remedy for madness.” Elias was already shifting Gabriel to my lap, placing his head upon my knee. I opened my mouth to protest, unsure if the presence of the dolls was going to be helpful in any way. But Elias was humming something angelic towards Gabriel, giggling under his breath. When he stood, he forgot the horror that had been placed in his hands only moments before and instead, skipped off, disappearing with a hum. It was a toss up whether or not he would even return with help. [[Next|Chapter Five 7]] <<if $gabrielro == "true">>I held Gabriel in my lap. I held Gabriel. In. My. Lap. I gasped loudly as the weight of him settled against me, my fingers shaking as I brushed them along his cheek. “How?” I whispered. He would be able to feel me. Every moment he had in which he claimed I was a demon. Something sent here to corrupt them, I knew they could all be fixed by touch. I just needed him to wake up now. “Gabriel,” I whispered. “Open your eyes.” The blood was still caked beneath his fingers. So many people dead at his hands. I felt each of their souls, lost and displaced within the market. I knew Gabriel would feel them too. Time was lost to me as I sunk into the feeling of him. My body became more and more my own as I held him close, just willing him to be okay. Occasionally, he jerked in my hold, as if trying to escape a nightmare. But he kept his eyes squeezed shut and I had to wonder if it was by choice. This may have been one thing that Gabriel could not face on his own. <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>I held Gabriel in my lap. I held Gabriel. In. My. Lap. I gasped loudly as the weight of him settled against me, my fingers shaking as I brushed them along his cheek. “How?” I whispered. He would be able to feel me. Every moment he had in which he claimed I was a demon. Something sent here to corrupt them, I knew they could all be fixed by touch. I just needed him to wake up now. “Gabriel,” I whispered. “Open your eyes.” The blood was still caked beneath his fingers. So many people dead at his hands. I felt each of their souls, lost and displaced within the market. I knew Gabriel would feel them too. Time was lost to me as I sunk into the feeling of him. My body became more and more my own as I held him close, just willing him to be okay. Occasionally, he jerked in my hold, as if trying to escape a nightmare. But he kept his eyes squeezed shut and I had to wonder if it was by choice. This may have been one thing that Gabriel could not face on his own. <</if>> Time passed. I was unaware of how much. As we sat there together, I felt my body settle into itself. I breathed slowly, listening to the sounds echoing all around me. Little skitters of the creatures living in the walls. The way they sometimes rumbled. And I was corporeal. For a blinding moment, I was able to touch. To feel. To be able to aid the people in my life in ways that I had taken for granted. “Night Market?” My head popped up. A beautiful individual stood before me. Bright in the desolate night. Their skin was a flawless rust brown. Their eyes bright gold. The deepness of their voice was like coffee, rich and invigorating. Yet, I could see the masked silver stitched along different areas of their perfect body. Elias had outdone himself with this doll. “I have come to take the son,” they said. “Baron Elias said you may need help.” “Will you be able to carry him?” They nodded only once before walking over. Their skin felt supercharged and I could feel Elias’s brand of magic coursing through their veins. As if Gabriel were merely another one of the ragdolls that graced Elias’s estate, the individual picked him up, cradling him close. “Will you be joining us?” I nodded. “Yes. I think I should.” “Come then. And shield your eyes.” “What do you…?” The wall before me was peeled away like the bark from a tree. Whoever this being was took the corner of the wall and pulled it back to reveal a white expanse of light, interjected with heat. I covered my eyes, hearing them shuffle around as they moved into the next district. I blinked, trying to adjust my gaze. There was white sand beneath my feet and an ocean breeze. Hundreds of dolls were walking across the tropical expanse, constructing huts and play areas. A wondrous playground beneath a heated sky. It was like a different world entirely. I struggled to keep up with the long strides. Even while carrying Gabriel, the individual was able to take two long steps compared to my own. Elias’s chateau was still at the top of the hill but gone were the white marble statues that had lined the road there and the large fountains that had living dolls dancing within. “Just this way.” The individual ducked beneath a wisteria bough and turned off to one side. There was a beautiful groundskeeper cottage to our right, the door already open with Elias standing inside. “Come. Come in,” Elias urged. We ducked inside the shelter where the door immediately shut behind us. The windows were still floor to ceiling, letting in the warmth from outside, but I knew they were enchanted. No one could see in and I was unsure if what we were seeing through the glass was reality or not. “Did anyone see the two of you?” “No, my Baron,” the individual said. He laid Gabriel on a prepared four poster bed. “$name, this is Koia. They are well versed in the knowledge of the fallen. They have been my personal advisor on such things for years.” [[It is nice to meet you Koia]] [[I wasn’t sure that was actually a good thing]] [[Can you help Gabriel?]] “It is nice to meet you, Koia.” I bowed a little in respect. I was unclear about how they were supposed to help Gabriel but anyone that had knowledge in the likes of this kind of madness had to be listened to. Throwing him away to be forgotten in a cell was not going to help him. Though, I knew it would have been the decision of a sane Warden. Elias was holding out his hand. “$name, please. Sit with me.” There was a bench on the other side of the room. I would still be able to see Gabriel’s bed from there. Walking over to Elias, I sunk down onto the cushioned seat beside him. Koia was hovering over Gabriel, muttering under their breath. There was light coming from their hands but it bounced off Gabriel and fell to the ground like shattered glass. “This will work,” Elias said, trying to convince the two of us. “What exactly is this?” “I do not understand it. But I am certain that Koia is a graceling. One of the most revered servants of the Knowing. Only Gracelings can help the Fallen.” “How?” “They give the grace they store inside of themselves to the fallen. It is finite but it is also something that a fallen can learn to live off of.” Elias’s hands were clasped in front of him. “Koia has been giving me their grace for years.” I startled at that, looking at Elias. “Can Koia give two fallen their grace?” “No. Just one at a time.” [[But that means you’ll be falling to madness]] [[Thank you for your sacrifice]] [[Could we find another graceling?]] I wasn’t sure anyone related to Elias in any capacity was a good thing. I remembered my dinner here well. The Dollmaker was no in his right mind. It didn’t take more than a few deep breaths to understand that. Elias was holding out his hand. “$name, please. Sit with me.” There was a bench on the other side of the room. I would still be able to see Gabriel’s bed from there. Walking over to Elias, I sunk down onto the cushioned seat beside him. Koia was hovering over Gabriel, muttering under their breath. There was light coming from their hands but it bounced off Gabriel and fell to the ground like shattered glass. “This will work,” Elias said, trying to convince the two of us. “What exactly is this?” “I do not understand it. But I am certain that Koia is a graceling. One of the most revered servants of the Knowing. Only Gracelings can help the Fallen.” “How?” “They give the grace they store inside of themselves to the fallen. It is finite but it is also something that a fallen can learn to live off of.” Elias’s hands were clasped in front of him. “Koia has been giving me their grace for years.” I startled at that, looking at Elias. “Can Koia give two fallen their grace?” “No. Just one at a time.” [[But that means you’ll be falling to madness]] [[Thank you for your sacrifice]] [[Could we find another graceling?]] “Can you help Gabriel?” I asked. I was willing to listen to anything at the moment. We could deal with the Guard after. “It is my hope,” they said. “Give me a moment with my patient.” Elias was holding out his hand. “$name, please. Sit with me.” There was a bench on the other side of the room. I would still be able to see Gabriel’s bed from there. Walking over to Elias, I sunk down onto the cushioned seat beside him. Koia was hovering over Gabriel, muttering under their breath. There was light coming from their hands but it bounced off Gabriel and fell to the ground like shattered glass. “This will work,” Elias said, trying to convince the two of us. “What exactly is this?” “I do not understand it. But I am certain that Koia is a graceling. One of the most revered servants of the Knowing. Only Gracelings can help the Fallen.” “How?” “They give the grace they store inside of themselves to the fallen. It is finite but it is also something that a fallen can learn to live off of.” Elias’s hands were clasped in front of him. “Koia has been giving me their grace for years.” I startled at that, looking at Elias. “Can Koia give two fallen their grace?” “No. Just one at a time.” [[But that means you’ll be falling to madness]] [[Thank you for your sacrifice]] [[Could we find another graceling?]] “But that means you’ll be falling to the madness,” I said. As if he didn’t know. “Oh, no,” he laughed. “I’ll die. Without grace, I will succumb to madness and die.” There was a serenity to his face. A gleeful joy as he looked over at the prone form of his child. “Elias, are you sure?” It was too much for anyone to ask. Too much for anyone to give. And yet, he didn’t seem to care. “Do you believe you can hide him from the guard while we wait for him to come to his senses?” Elias’s laughter sounded like sharp chimes. The kind that were darling and pretty and yet would cut you upon touch. “The guard won’t come here. By the Warden’s orders.” “He’s not the Warden any more,” I whispered. Elias’s grin was feral. “Yes he is. No one can take that from him.” “Elias…” “No one can take that from him,” he repeated. The hand that was resting on mine squeezed it tight. “No one.” I looked towards the bed, watching Koia work over Gabriel’s twitching body. Briefly I wondered if we had hit rock bottom. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel End]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel end]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Belladonna end]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Milo/Mal end]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel End]]<</if>>“Thank you,” I whispered to him. “Thank you for your sacrifice.” Because that was exactly what it was. Elias was risking his own madness, accepting the consequences, because he loved Gabriel more than himself. “Do you wish to have children, $name?” “I had never thought about it,” I responded honestly. Elias grinned, not saying much more to that. I wondered if it was an important question, or simply something to fill the void. “Do you believe you can hide him from the guard while we wait for him to come to his senses?” Elias’s laughter sounded like sharp chimes. The kind that were darling and pretty and yet would cut you upon touch. “The guard won’t come here. By the Warden’s orders.” “He’s not the Warden any more,” I whispered. Elias’s grin was feral. “Yes he is. No one can take that from him.” “Elias…” “No one can take that from him,” he repeated. The hand that was resting on mine squeezed it tight. “No one.” I looked towards the bed, watching Koia work over Gabriel’s twitching body. Briefly I wondered if we had hit rock bottom. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel End]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel end]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Belladonna end]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Milo/Mal end]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel End]]<</if>>“Could we not find another graceling?” I asked. I was unfamiliar with the concept of them. There was something that rang familiar but it was not knowledge that I had stored within my current mind. “Perhaps,” Elias said softly. “Though, we have always struggled to find them. They are rare. Only gifted the grace by being the most devout to the Knowing. As the years have gone by, they are fewer and fewer.” Reaching out, he patted my hand. There was a tightness in his eyes. A sort of crease that he never would have allowed there before. Already he was aging. “Do you believe you can hide him from the guard while we wait for him to come to his senses?” Elias’s laughter sounded like sharp chimes. The kind that were darling and pretty and yet would cut you upon touch. “The guard won’t come here. By the Warden’s orders.” “He’s not the Warden any more,” I whispered. Elias’s grin was feral. “Yes he is. No one can take that from him.” “Elias…” “No one can take that from him,” he repeated. The hand that was resting on mine squeezed it tight. “No one.” I looked towards the bed, watching Koia work over Gabriel’s twitching body. Briefly I wondered if we had hit rock bottom. <<if $gabrielro == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel End]]<<elseif $hazelro == "true">>[[Next|Hazel end]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Belladonna end]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Next|Milo/Mal end]]<<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Next|Gabriel End]]<</if>> Exhaustion had gotten the best of me. While watching Gabriel, I nodded off. Whether it was the events of the day, or simply seeing the toll of the madness on Gabriel’s face, I didn’t know. But I had fallen asleep without thought and had slept until the world around me grew quiet. <<if $help == "elias">>Elias was no longer in the room. Neither was Koia. The brightness of our marbled surroundings looked dimmer and outside, while the sun still shone, it was in a soft pink and orange hue now where the ocean waves lapped against the sunset shores. Stiffly, I rose, walking over to Gabriel’s bed. He had been changed at some point during my slumber. The bloody garb of his uniform had been removed and was now replaced with white robes. An Elias decision, I was sure. <<elseif $help == "reese">> Reese was no longer in the room. There was a part of me that wondered if he was even in the cottage. Reese didn’t strike me as the kind of person that stuck around when things got tough. Not because he was a coward, but because he had perhaps done it too many times before and had been beaten down for it. Stiffly, I rose, walking over to Gabriel’s bed. His shirt had been removed at the very least and the blood mostly cleaned from him. I could still see dirt and sand caked into his skin.<</if>> I settled down next to Gabriel's bed. Bloody clothes discarded, he looked peaceful. Part of me hoped he slept. He never had been very good at taking care of himself. Working himself to exhaustion. The other part of me just wanted him to open his eyes. When I reached towards him, my fingers passed through the lines of his jaw. It didn’t surprise me, in the end. Part of me understood why I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t put it into words yet but it made sense. Like a flickering light, I had gained the ability when I needed it and then the cold wind had snuffed it out. The market continued to feel dark, shrouded in a cloud. And it was getting colder and colder. The last time the phenomenon had happened, I had come to realize I had been dying. I supposed not much had really changed. Sighing, I leaned back in the chair. There was comfort in the knowledge that Belladonna was out there, looking for a solution. Decoding Lucinda’s book felt like the first true course of action we could take. It was the only lead we had. But, I had a group of Barons. Ones which were responsible for the market. They must have had information as well. It may have been high time to call a Baron meeting. To deal with Lucinda as a whole. To address that Taliesin was still rooting around inside me and was a loose thread. And to talk about what we were going to do about the Warden of the market. Because the market was dying, and the bastions to protect me were falling off one by one. “$name?” My eyes snapped open at the croak in his voice. He was staring at me from the bed with bleary eyes, his lips parted. “Hey,” I whispered to him. “I’m here. I’m right here.” I held my breath, waiting to hear him berate me. To fling accusations of being a demon at me. To give voice to everything he had so desperately been trying to hold onto. “I like these dreams,” he whispered. I blinked at him. He thought he was dreaming. That he was safe to talk here. Did he even remember what he had done to me? [[This isn’t a dream]] [[You need to just rest]] [[Play along]] “I like these dreams, too.” I scooted closer, careful not to touch him unless I gave up the ruse. Thinking back on our time together, I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him in such a state of relaxation. The sharp focus that normally rigidly encased him, was nowhere to be found. “My head feels heavy,” he frowned. “I wish I could stay here and rest.” “You can.” “No, there is too much going on out there. Too much work to be done.” The people that had been slain were ‘work’. Not victims. Not pockets of guilt. But true work. To Gabriel, life had been demoted to a simple task on a list. “There is nothing that needs to be done that can’t wait,” I assured him. He smiled a bit, rolling his head on the pillow. “You always did take such good care of me. I’ve been trying to eat. When I remember. I’ll try to do better.” I felt oddly choked up by the sentiment. “I’m sure you’re doing fine.” He was skinnier than I remembered. The bulk he had packed on during our time together having all been lost. I only now noticed what had done to his body. He looked hardened and yet frail all at once. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> “Gabriel, about what you are doing out there. You said you needed to ‘purge’?” I was hesitant to even say the word. “Yes,” he swallowed. “I will need to get rid of the things that have tainted your market. I will banish them from this realm. Cleanse it. It is my final act before I leave.” “Before you leave?” “For the Knowing.”<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">> “Gabriel, I’m going to ask you something but if it feels like to much, please don’t answer.” He hummed in response, sinking further onto the mattress. “I have heard rumors that some things happened today in the market. That you may have done something. To the guard.” He laughed a little, rolling his head towards me. “Yes. I cleansed a group I had come upon. It is the final act I must commit before I leave.” “Before you leave?” “For the Knowing.<</if>> [[You are Fallen]] [[Oh, I see. Can I help you]] [[Don’t trust them]]“Gabriel,” I started hesitantly. “This isn’t a dream.” I wanted to tell him he was awake. With his family. And that he was sick. He was so very very sick. The glazed over look in his eyes said he didn’t believe me. Maybe there was a part of him that just didn’t want to. “You are my favorite thing to wake up to,” he said. “I hope that when I open my eyes you are still here.” I felt my heart clench at the hope in his voice. For the moment, he was at peace. And every second that passed by threatened to rip it from him. “Gabriel, I need you to listen to me. It is very important. Are you listening?” He wasn’t. That much was clear. He smiled a bit, rolling his head on the pillow. “You always did take such good care of me. I’ve been trying to eat. When I remember. I’ll try to do better.” I felt oddly choked up by the sentiment. “I’m sure you’re doing fine.” He was skinnier than I remembered. The bulk he had packed on during our time together having all been lost. I only now noticed what had done to his body. He looked hardened and yet frail all at once. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> “Gabriel, about what you are doing out there. You said you needed to ‘purge’?” I was hesitant to even say the word. “Yes,” he swallowed. “I will need to get rid of the things that have tainted your market. I will banish them from this realm. Cleanse it. It is my final act before I leave.” “Before you leave?” “For the Knowing.”<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">> “Gabriel, I’m going to ask you something but if it feels like to much, please don’t answer.” He hummed in response, sinking further onto the mattress. “I have heard rumors that some things happened today in the market. That you may have done something. To the guard.” He laughed a little, rolling his head towards me. “Yes. I cleansed a group I had come upon. It is the final act I must commit before I leave.” “Before you leave?” “For the Knowing.<</if>> [[You are Fallen]] [[Oh, I see. Can I help you]] [[Don’t trust them]]“You need to rest,” I told him gently. The calmer I could keep him the better. I didn’t know what triggered the worst of the madness but something had happened to him today. There was a part of me that didn’t want him to even remember. Peace surrounded him for the moment. I just wanted him to enjoy it for a little bit longer. “I have work,” he murmured. “Don’t I have work?” “You just need to get some sleep right now,” I encouraged. “Others are taking care of your work.” I was afraid if he went out there, he would be arrested on sight. More would die in the process. He smiled a bit, rolling his head on the pillow. “You always did take such good care of me. I’ve been trying to eat. When I remember. I’ll try to do better.” I felt oddly choked up by the sentiment. “I’m sure you’re doing fine.” He was skinnier than I remembered. The bulk he had packed on during our time together having all been lost. I only now noticed what had done to his body. He looked hardened and yet frail all at once. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> “Gabriel, about what you are doing out there. You said you needed to ‘purge’?” I was hesitant to even say the word. “Yes,” he swallowed. “I will need to get rid of the things that have tainted your market. I will banish them from this realm. Cleanse it. It is my final act before I leave.” “Before you leave?” “For the Knowing.”<<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">> “Gabriel, I’m going to ask you something but if it feels like to much, please don’t answer.” He hummed in response, sinking further onto the mattress. “I have heard rumors that some things happened today in the market. That you may have done something. To the guard.” He laughed a little, rolling his head towards me. “Yes. I cleansed a group I had come upon. It is the final act I must commit before I leave.” “Before you leave?” “For the Knowing.<</if>> [[You are Fallen]] [[Oh, I see. Can I help you]] [[Don’t trust them]] A shiver went down my spine. “You are a Fallen, Gabriel. I thought there was no returning after that.” I kept my words curious and gentle. Tried to keep him talking. “The Knowing has accepted me back,” he murmured happily. “They have seen my efforts and have opened their arms to me once more. I will be returning home, $name. Once I’m there I am hopeful I can make a case for you to come with me.” I was the Night Market. I couldn’t go even if I wanted to. Taking me elsewhere could mean the end of the realm. But I wasn’t going to say that right now. Nor was I going to tell him that I didn’t believe for a second he had been accepted back. “The unclean. The corrupt officers.” He chuckled to himself a bit. “Remember how mad you used to get at me for letting such things slide? I am doing something about it now. I think you and the Knowing have much more in common than you think. Maybe that’s why I fell in love with you.” I felt sick. The dazed look on his face was one of pure bliss. He believed this. And faith was one of the scariest things I had never encountered. “Get some sleep,” I told him, watching as his eyes fluttered. “I am asleep.” “Get more sleep.” His eyes fluttered shut before popping back open. He looked me up and down and for a moment, I thought the ruse was up. That he knew that this wasn’t a dream after all. But he settled, sinking into the mattress. “Stay,” he whispered. “Let me look upon you until I fall asleep.” <<if $gbpoly== "true">>[[Next|Gabe poly end]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Gabe solo end]]<</if>> “Oh,” I said, trying to keep the shock from my voice. “Can I help you?” I wouldn’t. Putting Gabriel back within the Knowing’s arms was the last thing I was willing to do. They cast him out, cast so many out, knowing what it would do to everyone they forgot. And they didn’t care. But I just needed to keep him talking. “Support me,” he said. “Your support means more to me than I ever thought. You have taught me how to be a better man, $name. I do not think the Knowing would have let me back without you.” I tried to smile through his words. “Of course I support you,” I told him. “I will always support you.” He chuckled to himself a bit. “Remember how mad you used to get at me for letting such things slide? I am doing something about it now. I think you and the Knowing have much more in common than you think. Maybe that’s why I fell in love with you.” I felt sick. The dazed look on his face was one of pure bliss. He believed this. And faith was one of the scariest things I had never encountered. “Get some sleep,” I told him, watching as his eyes fluttered. “I am asleep.” “Get more sleep.” His eyes fluttered shut before popping back open. He looked me up and down and for a moment, I thought the ruse was up. That he knew that this wasn’t a dream after all. But he settled, sinking into the mattress. “Stay,” he whispered. “Let me look upon you until I fall asleep.” <<if $gbpoly== "true">>[[Next|Gabe poly end]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Gabe solo end]]<</if>> “You can’t trust the Knowing, Gabriel.” I tried to keep my voice soft and full of understanding, but the fact that he was even speaking of them concerned me. “Remember who they are. They are the very ones that cast you out to begin with.” “But they have seen the good I have been doing. That I never gave up faith. They’re welcoming me back.” He reached out to squeeze my hand, not even realizing when his fingers went through mine. “You’ll see. Once I am back in the Knowing’s embrace, things will change. Others will be able to understand that falling is not forever. That we can still do our work down here.” “And you feel like the knowing told you to kill the guard today?” I asked. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> Did the Knowing ask that he try to kill me?<</if>> “The unclean. The corrupt officers.” He chuckled to himself a bit. “Remember how mad you used to get at me for letting such things slide? I am doing something about it now. I think you and the Knowing have much more in common than you think. Maybe that’s why I fell in love with you.” I felt sick. The dazed look on his face was one of pure bliss. He believed this. And faith was one of the scariest things I had never encountered. “Get some sleep,” I told him, watching as his eyes fluttered. “I am asleep.” “Get more sleep.” His eyes fluttered shut before popping back open. He looked me up and down and for a moment, I thought the ruse was up. That he knew that this wasn’t a dream after all. But he settled, sinking into the mattress. “Stay,” he whispered. “Let me look upon you until I fall asleep.” <<if $gbpoly== "true">>[[Next|Gabe poly end]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Gabe solo end]]<</if>> <<if $help == "elias">>I left Elias’s as soon as I could. While I wanted to make sure Gabriel was okay, I also didn’t wish to stick around the Dollmaker's domain for long. It was a place that was out of touch. Fake and somewhat off putting. Gabriel would be safe there, ironically enough. And now I needed to get to Belladonna. It turned out I didn’t need to look far. A paper bat swooped down, fluttering onto my upturned palm the moment I stepped back into the darkness of the market. //Meet me at Reese’s estate// Her voice twirled around me in an uptick of wind, pulling me towards the back passages that I knew would land me at Reese's door. She was waiting upon the front stoop when I arrived. Both her and Reese were sitting next to each other with a bottle of wine between them. Belladonna was leaning her head against Reese’s shoulder, nodding to something that he said. Upon my approach, she looked up, her expression melting into relief. She stood without another word, coming towards me. “Are you alright?” “It’s been a day,” I said tiredly. I wanted to fall into her arms. “How’s Gabriel?” It was Reese’s voice that called out. He was taking a deep swig from his bottle, staring at me with hardened eyes. I had no doubt he was pissed that he had not been informed earlier. “He’s not doing well,” I told him. “Elias is taking care of him but when I left, he was still asleep.” “What exactly is Elias doin’ to take care of him?” Turning, Belladonna tossed him a glare. “Can you give $name a moment?” “When it comes to my boy? No.” “Elias has a graceling,” I told him, knowing it was better to rip off the bandaid. “Its one that has helped him through the years. He’s giving them to Gabriel.” The bottle broke in Reese’s hand as he squeezed it. Next to me, I could see the naked shock on Belladonna’s face as well. “He’s what?” she asked. Wiping his hand on the sides of his dirty pants, Reese stepped off the porch, walking out towards the misty fields. “You two can have the living room, if you need it. Shouldn’t be walkin’ home tonight kiddo.” Belladonna looked as if she were about to go after him. “Reese, don’t do anything stupid please.” He didn’t answer as he disappeared into the mist. I wasn’t sure what direction that was supposed to be. If he was heading towards Elias for the first time in decades. Or if he was disappearing to grieve his old lover. “Come on,” Belladonna said with a sigh. “Inside may smell but it is warm.” [[Next|Chapter Five 8]]<<elseif $help == "reese">>The night had calmed. Gabriel had yet to wake even as Reese spoon fed him tea. Somewhere out there I knew that the world was in chaos again. The last time there had been no Warden, the world had turned to anarchy. Yet, what else were they to do when they were already existing in such a chaotic state. When the front door opened, I nearly didn’t look over. I was far more tired than I expected and here, in the middle of Reese’s living room, I oddly felt like I was blending into my surroundings. But I caught the scent of night jasmine and knew who it was before I even turned my head. Belladonna spotted me on the crowded sofa, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and broken fishing gear. Stepping over several empty plates, she made her way to my side, stepping over piles of junk with her black strappy heels. There was a tiredness about her. One that came from running all over the market. A seed of guilt settled in me at not having contacted her earlier. “Are you alright?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at one of the numerous smells within the room. “Was a busy day,” I told her. “What about you? You look like you are dead on your feet.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Funny.” Kicking everything off the end of the sofa, she grabbed a blanket before placing it down. She wouldn’t sit until the entirety of the sofa was covered. Slowly though, she looked around the room, a fondness creeping into the edges of her eyes. “I haven’t been here for some time,” she commented. “It’s not surprising that it’s even dirtier.” “Reese doesn’t seem to live the cleanest lifestyle,” I agreed. While the place didn’t look as if it would breed disease, it was cluttered. Every surface was covered with paraphernalia that had been haphazardly tossed aside. A few plates had been forgotten in corners under old and frayed fishing nets. “Bella,” I started. “Have you eaten anything today?” She was wearing one of her black silk dresses. I could see the pop of her ribs through it. The door to Gabriel’s room opening was the excuse that she needed not to answer me. Reese slipped out, his face pinched and tired. It was at that moment that he looked far older than the middle aged man he appeared to be. When he spotted Bella on the couch, his eyes softened, and if possible, he looked even more drawn. “Hey, kiddo,” he whispered. “Hey, Reese.” She still bowed her head to him. As though she were greeting him for afternoon tea. “How is he?” “Don’t quite know. But it’s not great.” [[Do we need to take precautions to keep him here?]] [[Should we be contacting Elias?]] [[Are there stages to madness?]]<</if>> The inside of the shack was somehow worse than the outside. While there was a general air of dishevelment to the outer area of the bungalow, inside a hoarder's nest had exploded. There was no order to the room itself where shelves were lined with empty bottles and books were tossed about on the floor. Belladonna looked particularly displeased about that and I had a feeling Reese would be receiving some heavy handed words from the vampire. We had to step over several discarded crates of old fishing supplies and dodge broken nets that hung from the ceiling, just to the sofas. There, Belladonna kicked everything off, laying down a blanket on each one. I laughed a little to myself as I realized she was refusing to touch the furniture. “Have you eaten, dear heart?” I paused. I hadn’t. But then again, I couldn’t remember the last time I had. Food seemed like a pleasure more than a necessity now. “I’m fine,” I told her. There was some disappointment over the fact that I had forgotten something so very //alive//. I worried at times that it would be all to easy to fall back into the naivety of the market. Belladonna kicked off her heels, tossing them across the room. “I’m staying here tonight,” she said. “Is that safe for you?” I couldn’t think of a time where Belladonna had stayed anywhere but within the very well protected walls of her own home. “Probably safer than my own place, if we are being honest.” She was curled up against the arm of the couch, a garish orange knitted blanket across her lap. “Despite not being able to touch you, I do enjoy this.” The sentiment startled me. For most of the time I had known her, she had kept her feelings close to chest. Then she killed Kavatti and started to change. “You enjoy staring at me?” I laughed a little. “Yes.” My stomach flipped. By the Knowing or whatever I believed in, I wished I was corporeal. She seemed satisfied by the look she watched cross my face. Curling her arms against the side of the sofa, she rested her head against them. “Now, talk to me. Let me listen to your voice, my heart. It’s been too long.” [[I don’t even know what to say]] [[Are you worried about Gabriel]] [[You and Reese seem close]] “Do we need to take precautions to keep him here?” I asked. “He killed nearly twenty of his own guardsmen this afternoon and I don’t even know how many more on the beach.” “Fourteen,” Reese responded grimly. All fourteen of them would be washed away by now. “If he is a danger to this market, we’ll have to do something to keep him here.” Belladonna was speaking pragmatically of course but to subdue the Warden was no small task. Reese could hold him for a time, that much had been made clear, but Reese wasn’t going to be able to contain him forever. "Nothing's gonna be solved tonight," Reese said. "Not even your will can solve this one, Bells." Reese headed to the kitchen, opening a crooked cabinet door. His fingers curled around an amber bottle, he raised it to the two of us. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go drink in the garden. If you two lovebirds want to join, feel free. Otherwise, mi casa es su casa.” The door slammed shut behind him and we watched his shadow pass by the window where he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth. Belladonna kicked off her heels, tossing them across the room. “I’m staying here tonight,” she said. “Is that safe for you?” I couldn’t think of a time where Belladonna had stayed anywhere but within the very well protected walls of her own home. “Probably safer than my own place, if we are being honest.” She was curled up against the arm of the couch, a garish orange knitted blanket across her lap. “Despite not being able to touch you, I do enjoy this.” The sentiment startled me. For most of the time I had known her, she had kept her feelings close to chest. Then she killed Kavatti and started to change. “You enjoy staring at me?” I laughed a little. “Yes.” My stomach flipped. By the Knowing or whatever I believed in, I wished I was corporeal. She seemed satisfied by the look she watched cross my face. Curling her arms against the side of the sofa, she rested her head against them. “Now, talk to me. Let me listen to your voice, my heart. It’s been too long.” [[I don’t even know what to say]] [[Are you worried about Gabriel]] [[You and Reese seem close]] “Should we be contacting Elias?” I asked. Reese shut down then, whatever softness he had on his face bleeding away at the sound of the other Baron. “No. We can’t” It was Belladonna who spoke up, her voice far softer than I was used to hearing when she addressed others. “Reese, we have been fooled. Surely you realize that by now. Baron’s can–” “Kiddo, I’m not talkin’ about this right now. Gabriel is dying. You look like you’re knocking on the reaper's door, and the Night Market is sittin’ right here which I’m going to believe isn’t good for us as a whole.” The bluntness in which it was all laid out had me shifting uncomfortably. “You don’t want to talk about it because it’s painful. Don’t use all of us as your excuse,” Belladonna said simply. Thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windows. Reese didn’t look at either of us after that as he walked into the kitchen, ripping open a cabinet. His fingers curled around a bottle and before we could say anything, he was pulling the stopper with his teeth before heading outside and slamming the door. Belladonna kicked off her heels, tossing them across the room. “I’m staying here tonight,” she said. “Is that safe for you?” I couldn’t think of a time where Belladonna had stayed anywhere but within the very well protected walls of her own home. “Probably safer than my own place, if we are being honest.” She was curled up against the arm of the couch, a garish orange knitted blanket across her lap. “Despite not being able to touch you, I do enjoy this.” The sentiment startled me. For most of the time I had known her, she had kept her feelings close to chest. Then she killed Kavatti and started to change. “You enjoy staring at me?” I laughed a little. “Yes.” My stomach flipped. By the Knowing or whatever I believed in, I wished I was corporeal. She seemed satisfied by the look she watched cross my face. Curling her arms against the side of the sofa, she rested her head against them. “Now, talk to me. Let me listen to your voice, my heart. It’s been too long.” [[I don’t even know what to say]] [[Are you worried about Gabriel]] [[You and Reese seem close]] “Are there stages to the madness?” I asked. “Several,” Reese replied. “And he’s in the later ones. I’m going to contact a few people. See if I can get some supplies. But with the way the market has been…” he trailed off. Supplies were not freely available anymore. This had once been a realm where dreams kissed everyone's fingertips. Now, there was nothing but empty alley’s and overgrown walls. “I’ll look into it as well,” Belladonna said. “You got your own shit, Ms. Baron. You and $name there. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do to help. Not that you’re going to really listen to me.” “I’m not.” He chuckled, heading to the kitchen to rummage around in a cabinet. Fingers curling around an amber bottle, he raised it to the two of us. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go drink in the garden. If you two lovebirds want to join, feel free. Otherwise, mi casa es su casa.” The door slammed shut behind him and we watched his shadow pass by the window where he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth. Belladonna kicked off her heels, tossing them across the room. “I’m staying here tonight,” she said. “Is that safe for you?” I couldn’t think of a time where Belladonna had stayed anywhere but within the very well protected walls of her own home. “Probably safer than my own place, if we are being honest.” She was curled up against the arm of the couch, a garish orange knitted blanket across her lap. “Despite not being able to touch you, I do enjoy this.” The sentiment startled me. For most of the time I had known her, she had kept her feelings close to chest. Then she killed Kavatti and started to change. “You enjoy staring at me?” I laughed a little. “Yes.” My stomach flipped. By the Knowing or whatever I believed in, I wished I was corporeal. She seemed satisfied by the look she watched cross my face. Curling her arms against the side of the sofa, she rested her head against them. “Now, talk to me. Let me listen to your voice, my heart. It’s been too long.” [[I don’t even know what to say]] [[Are you worried about Gabriel]] [[You and Reese seem close]] “I don’t even know what to say,” I told her honestly. “A lot has happened. A lot is always happening. But I don’t want to talk about any of that.” Belladonna smiled a little. “I understand the sentiment. Coming home from a long days work, the last thing I want to do is discuss politics.” “So what do you do then? How do you unwind after a day like today?” She seemed intrigued by the question, like no one had really asked her that. Not for a while at least. Stretching out, her hair fell over the arm of the patched pleather couch, a burst of red against the cracked brown. “I read,” she said simply. I of course knew this about her. It was something she hid, only sharing with the ones closest to her that she was an avid reader. Looking around, I tried to spy any sort of books within the living room. It was hard to see anything given the state of the house. The bookshelf didn’t house anything but old sea glass and hardened sand. But, in the corner, under a dirty sweater, was a book. It was missing the front cover and its pages were curled from the moisture in the air. But it was something. I crawled over everything to get it before returning to the couch and Bella’s side. “Snails. A Mating Guide.” Belladonna burst out into laughter as I read the title page, the first sound of true happiness falling from her. “Why would he have something like this?” I asked, waving the book around. “I don’t know. Nor do I want to.” I looked at the worn pages, turning to the first chapter. “Sexual snail positions,” I told her. “No,” she gasped, leaning forward to look at the book. “That can’t possibly be true.” Her hair brushed against my knee and I shivered. Even Bella paused. Slowly, she reached out, to see if she could place her hand on me. But her fingers drifted through my leg as if I were nothing but mist. Leaning back, she curled back up on the sofa. “Perhaps we should get some sleep,” she told me. “Big day tomorrow.” “How so?” “You will be going out into the Outlands. I found where the location of one of those broken lanterns was and have hired a guide to take you.” [[That is sudden]] [[Why tomorrow?]] [[You’re not coming with me?]]“Are you worried about Gabriel?” I asked. Seeing her here, in a place that was so unlike her, struck me as odd. I wondered if I would feel like she was out of place in Artisan Alley as well. She sure didn’t think it was up to her speed. Then again, she did just lay a blanket down on Reese’s couch to keep from getting a disease. “I am,” she said softly. “I’ve been through a version of this before with him. I was much younger and didn’t quite know what to expect. It can get a bit… concerning.” Concerning was certainly a word for it all. “Had he killed this many people before?” She shifted a bit under her blanket, thinking back on those days. “Not that I was aware of. But Reese and Elias dealt with it far more than me. I was kind of the person that came in as the cleanup crew.” “Cleanup crew?” She shook her head. “It was a long time ago, my heart. Back when I was still human. But from what I’ve observed, the madness he is going through now compared to what I had witnessed? It is much worse. I think he has used up far more of his reserves.” “So what do we do?” She sighed. “Funny you should ask that.” She looked tired, her eyes connecting with mine as our only form of touch. "Would you like to stay with me here tonight? Get some sleep? Tomorrow is going to be a big day for you." “How so?” “You will be going out into the Outlands. I found where the location of one of those broken lanterns was and have hired a guide to take you.” [[That is sudden]] [[Why tomorrow?]] [[You’re not coming with me?]] “You and Reese seem close,” I said. The act dropped around him. She was no longer the Vampire Queen but something softer. I liked that side of her. I saw it come out a few times around me but hadn’t figured out yet how to produce it on will. “I used to come here once a month and drink with him,” she said. “I’d show up with a bottle of something foul and we would sit and reminisce. I think he liked it. Gave him a chance, once he was drunk enough, to speak of Elias. I don’t think he had many other people he could do that with.” “Gabriel didn’t show much, did he.” “No. After Gabriel became Warden he distanced himself. Though, I’ve always thought it was an excuse really. When everything happened with Reese and Elias he felt guilty and it was hard to be around either of them and not say that the other was alive. So when the Warden position was finally his, he just stopped coming around. Reese did enough questionable actions that he said it was a conflict of interest.” It was hard to imagine how they all once were. I knew I could access it if I wanted to but it felt like an invasion of privacy. “Do you wish to stay with me tonight?” she asked. “Of course.” Despite not being able to touch her, I could stretch out next to her. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” “How so?” “You will be going out into the Outlands. I found where the location of one of those broken lanterns was and have hired a guide to take you.” [[That is sudden]] [[Why tomorrow?]] [[You’re not coming with me?]] Her words felt like whiplash. “That is… sudden.” “You should know by now, I move very quickly and efficiently when given a task I care about. And dear heart, I care about you.” Within a day she had already figured out a line for us to follow. Even when she was not at her best, she was still the one person I knew I could always count on. There had been a slow decline that I had seen since arriving back in the market. Bella had looked sick the first time I had gazed upon her but slowly, she was looking worse and worse. Maybe it was just the lighting in Reese’s house. Or maybe she was truly just tired. There were plenty of things I could use as an excuse for how she looked. But I knew there was something more. And the fact that she was trying to hide it, is what concerned me the most. “Why are you sick, Bella?” Her demeanor shifted as she turned her eyes away from me, fighting the urge to roll them. “I would really like you to stop asking me that.” [[Either tell me why you’re sick or I’ll go out and tell Reese you’re sick]] [[Please just trust me]] [[I’m worried about you]]“Why tomorrow?” There was a part of me that felt suspicious. Like she was trying to get rid of me. It had something to do with whatever she was hiding. But as she leaned close, and I could smell the jasmine of her perfume, I felt my head swim. “Because, dear heart, I think those lanterns are at the heart of why you cannot touch me. And I’m getting rather tired of not touching you.” There had been a slow decline that I had seen since arriving back in the market. Bella had looked sick the first time I had gazed upon her but slowly, she was looking worse and worse. Maybe it was just the lighting in Reese’s house. Or maybe she was truly just tired. There were plenty of things I could use as an excuse for how she looked. But I knew there was something more. And the fact that she was trying to hide it, is what concerned me the most. “Why are you sick, Bella?” Her demeanor shifted as she turned her eyes away from me, fighting the urge to roll them. “I would really like you to stop asking me that.” [[Either tell me why you’re sick or I’ll go out and tell Reese you’re sick]] [[Please just trust me]] [[I’m worried about you]]“You’re not coming with me?” I don’t know why I assumed she would. When I had been going from Baron to Baron, I always had someone escorting me. They didn’t always stay for the meetings, but they did walk me to and from. I couldn’t imagine going out into the Outlands by myself. Except that I already had. There had been Nebula. But really, I had just stumbled across that one. “Dear heart,” she started. “I want to.” She didn’t continue. Just left it like that, giving me a sad look. I felt a weight settle in the pit of my stomach. There had been a slow decline that I had seen since arriving back in the market. Bella had looked sick the first time I had gazed upon her but slowly, she was looking worse and worse. Maybe it was just the lighting in Reese’s house. Or maybe she was truly just tired. There were plenty of things I could use as an excuse for how she looked. But I knew there was something more. And the fact that she was trying to hide it, is what concerned me the most. “Why are you sick, Bella?” Her demeanor shifted as she turned her eyes away from me, fighting the urge to roll them. “I would really like you to stop asking me that.” [[Either tell me why you’re sick or I’ll go out and tell Reese you’re sick]] [[Please just trust me]] [[I’m worried about you]]“Either tell me why you are sick or I’ll go out there and tell Reese. A man who is probably three sheets to the wind right now and is probably not going to take it well that another person, he considers his kid, is sick.” This time, Belladonna did roll her eyes. “Reese is not a stupid man. He knows that I’m sick.” For someone who prided herself in getting close to people, who had made it her job for a time, she hated when anyone did the same to her. “Darling, please. Would it make you feel better if I came with you?” “Of course it would. But now I’m wondering if you are too sick to go.” Indignation crossed her face. “You doubt my abilities?” I watched as she sat up, becoming every inch the Baron again. “I do not shirk my responsibilities. How dare you even insinuate that.” “I didn’t,” I told her flatly. “I’m flat out telling you that you are sick. And wondering why you don’t respect me enough to share.” Tossing the blanket aside, she rose. “I suppose I will be returning to the cathedral tonight. There goes our nice evening.” [[Bella, please don’t do this]] [[Just go]] [[You don’t get to walk away every time you don’t get your way with me]] Scooting towards her, I reached out, putting my hand next to where she rested her head. “Please just trust me,” I whispered. “You have so few people in this world that you trust. Please let me in.” There was genuine hurt to her eyes then, and guilt over her own actions. “Dear heart, I do trust you. This has nothing to do with trust. Please do not think that.” “Then what is this about?’ “Protecting you. Keeping you from feeling as if everything in this life is on your shoulders.” For someone who prided herself in getting close to people, who had made it her job for a time, she hated when anyone did the same to her. “Darling, please. Would it make you feel better if I came with you?” “Of course it would. But now I’m wondering if you are too sick to go.” Indignation crossed her face. “You doubt my abilities?” I watched as she sat up, becoming every inch the Baron again. “I do not shirk my responsibilities. How dare you even insinuate that.” “I didn’t,” I told her flatly. “I’m flat out telling you that you are sick. And wondering why you don’t respect me enough to share.” Tossing the blanket aside, she rose. “I suppose I will be returning to the cathedral tonight. There goes our nice evening.” [[Bella, please don’t do this]] [[Just go]] [[You don’t get to walk away every time you don’t get your way with me]] “I’m worried,” I told her. “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what’s going on.” “Because you have enough to be concerned about.” I knew that it was the truth, but it wasn’t the entire truth. She was still holding back. “You are one of those things, Bella. You are one of the things I’m //choosing// to be concerned about, in fact.” It was a sentiment that didn’t sit well with her. For someone who prided herself in getting close to people, who had made it her job for a time, she hated when anyone did the same to her. “Darling, please. Would it make you feel better if I came with you?” “Of course it would. But now I’m wondering if you are too sick to go.” Indignation crossed her face. “You doubt my abilities?” I watched as she sat up, becoming every inch the Baron again. “I do not shirk my responsibilities. How dare you even insinuate that.” “I didn’t,” I told her flatly. “I’m flat out telling you that you are sick. And wondering why you don’t respect me enough to share.” Tossing the blanket aside, she rose. “I suppose I will be returning to the cathedral tonight. There goes our nice evening.” [[Bella, please don’t do this]] [[Just go]] [[You don’t get to walk away every time you don’t get your way with me]] “Bella, please,” I whispered. I wasn’t angry. I even understood her reasoning. But we couldn’t go on like this. “Please don’t do this.” We wouldn’t be able to go forward on even ground if this is how she chose to be in our relationship. Making decisions behind my back. Keeping things from me because she was scared. Because that’s what it was. She was scared. Part of it was her protecting me, of that I had no doubt. But there was such terror also lingering in her eyes. She was just hoping that I didn’t see it. She stood in front of me, hands balled into a fist. She was angry but more at herself than anything else. Vulnerability was not something that had been required of her for so long. Each time she showed some sort of softer side, it had been an act. What her client needed. But with me it was different. It was always going to be different. “It’s a blood thing,” she said pointedly. “Don’t ask the specifics because I have nothing confirmed.” “You must have an idea though.” “I do. But you know that I do not like speaking of things until I know it for certain. That is a core part of me that has not changed. Respect that.” She closed her eyes, lashes sweeping across her cheeks. “That was not a demand.” I felt a small smile cross my lips. “That’s usually where people use please.” Rolling her eyes, she flopped back on the sofa. “I didn’t want to walk all the way back to the Cathedral to begin with. Besides,” her eyes ticked towards Gabriel’s door. “More muscle isn’t such a bad idea when we have a ticking time bomb angel in the next room.” “I’m glad you’re staying.” “As am I.” Sighing, she reclined back. “When you go into the Outlands tomorrow, you are going to be faced with certain truths that I’m unsure you even know about. I understand that being a higher sentient being means that there is not always the allocation of empathy or understanding. Try to remember one thing tomorrow, please.” “I’ll be happy to take whatever advice you have.” Her eyes fell upon mine. “You cannot save everyone.” [[But you love the way I try]] [[I’m beginning to understand that]] [[Watch me]] “Just go, then,” I snapped. “If you want to walk out of here instead of speaking like an adult, then I won’t stop you.” I had never seen her turn back so quickly. She flipped back around, advancing towards me. “Don’t you dare turn this on me. As if this is my fault somehow.” “You are the one walking away,” I pointed out. “For your own good! For your protection!” “And I died because a man that I trusted decided to do something for my own good. For my protection.” She stopped. The ragged exchange of our breaths filled the little shack. Milo had killed me to protect the Night Market and keep me alive. What she was doing was merely a step below. “You are comparing me to that?” she asked, voice dangerous. “I am. Because I don’t know if what you’re keeping from me is going to roll into something bigger. I don’t know if it's going to have dire consequences. And the fact that you feel like it is okay to keep something from me, because //you// decided it was best for me? It’s insulting after what I’ve gone through.” The words stung. I could see it on her face. They were a harsh slap and she wished to fight back. If I was anyone else, she very well may have. But instead, she clenched her fists together, and held her ground. If only to keep herself from walking away. “It’s a blood thing,” she said pointedly. “Don’t ask the specifics because I have nothing confirmed.” “You must have an idea though.” “I do. But you know that I do not like speaking of things until I know it for certain. That is a core part of me that has not changed. Respect that.” She closed her eyes, lashes sweeping across her cheeks. “That was not a demand.” I felt a small smile cross my lips. “That’s usually where people use please.” Rolling her eyes, she flopped back on the sofa. “I didn’t want to walk all the way back to the Cathedral to begin with. Besides,” her eyes ticked towards Gabriel’s door. “More muscle isn’t such a bad idea when we have a ticking time bomb angel in the next room.” “I’m glad you’re staying.” “As am I.” Sighing, she reclined back. “When you go into the Outlands tomorrow, you are going to be faced with certain truths that I’m unsure you even know about. I understand that being a higher sentient being means that there is not always the allocation of empathy or understanding. Try to remember one thing tomorrow, please.” “I’ll be happy to take whatever advice you have.” Her eyes fell upon mine. “You cannot save everyone.” [[But you love the way I try]] [[I’m beginning to understand that]] [[Watch me]] “Bella,” I said evenly. “I know our relationship is new. I get it. But I am telling you now that you don’t get to walk away every time you don’t get your way with me.” She stopped by the door. “And I’m telling you that there are some things I will have to keep from you.” “Keep the secrets of the Night Market from me. What you discuss behind closed doors. But never keep from me something that concerns you. Relationships don’t last that way. You don’t get to hide yourself.” Her hand was on the door. I expected her to push it open and leave. To grab a bottle on the way. But instead, she turned back towards me, her face still furious. But ever so slowly, she walked back, sitting down stiffly on the couch. I looked at her nearly dumbfounded that it had even worked. “It’s a blood thing,” she said pointedly. “Don’t ask the specifics because I have nothing confirmed.” “You must have an idea though.” “I do. But you know that I do not like speaking of things until I know it for certain. That is a core part of me that has not changed. Respect that.” She closed her eyes, lashes sweeping across her cheeks. “That was not a demand.” I felt a small smile cross my lips. “That’s usually where people use please.” Rolling her eyes, she flopped back on the sofa. “I didn’t want to walk all the way back to the Cathedral to begin with. Besides,” her eyes ticked towards Gabriel’s door. “More muscle isn’t such a bad idea when we have a ticking time bomb angel in the next room.” “I’m glad you’re staying.” “As am I.” Sighing, she reclined back. “When you go into the Outlands tomorrow, you are going to be faced with certain truths that I’m unsure you even know about. I understand that being a higher sentient being means that there is not always the allocation of empathy or understanding. Try to remember one thing tomorrow, please.” “I’ll be happy to take whatever advice you have.” Her eyes fell upon mine. “You cannot save everyone.” [[But you love the way I try]] [[I’m beginning to understand that]] [[Watch me]] “But you love the way I try,” I teased. That irresistible way in which I never gave up on someone was what drew Belladonna to me. I was an anomaly that she couldn’t understand. That she didn’t even agree with most of the time. And she loved that. “It’s going to get you killed one day,” she groused. “It kind of already did.” Her eyes narrowed. “Far too soon to be joking about that, dear. Do it again and I will punish you.” I couldn’t help but prod, just a little bit more. “I’m incorporeal. That’ll be rather difficult for you.” “No,” she said. “It will be rather pleasurable for me and far too difficult for you.” I felt heat swim in the depth of my belly at the thought of what she could do. All the ways she could tease me without ever laying a finger on my skin. “Get some sleep, dear heart,” she crooned. And she looked entirely too satisfied when she curled even further under the hideous orange blanket. I stayed with her that night. The two of us on opposite couches, watching each other across a small expanse. We didn’t speak because there was nothing to say. The dawn would bring a journey that would take us away from each other. History repeating itself over and over again. I wanted to memorize the way she looked at me. The way her eyes fluttered across her pale cheeks. I wanted to give her my blood. Put some life back in her eyes. When she fell asleep, I felt my heart soften. She laid there for the first time in front of me, eyes closed in slumber. Trusting me to protect her. To love her. I refused to let her down. [[Chapter Six]] I swallowed thickly, laying my own arms and head on the side of my couch. “I’m beginning to understand that,” I told her. We laid together, or heads cornered near one another, eyes staring from across a small gap. “I miss this,” I told her. “We never had this,” “I miss what we never had then.” For the first time, I saw such raw pain fill her eyes. Her hands twitched as if to reach for me. But instead, she sighed, pulling the blanket up higher upon herself. “I do, too.” I stayed with her that night. The two of us on opposite couches, watching each other across a small expanse. We didn’t speak because there was nothing to say. The dawn would bring a journey that would take us away from each other. History repeating itself over and over again. I wanted to memorize the way she looked at me. The way her eyes fluttered across her pale cheeks. I wanted to give her my blood. Put some life back in her eyes. When she fell asleep, I felt my heart soften. She laid there for the first time in front of me, eyes closed in slumber. Trusting me to protect her. To love her. I refused to let her down. [[Chapter Six]] I slid off the sofa, coming to kneel in front of hers. She didn’t move but she kept her eyes upon me, tracking even the slightest movement. The house was dim and we were surrounded by everything Belladonna was not. And yet, when I looked at her, I felt fiercely protective. This was my Baron. The woman I loved. “Why do you say that?” I asked her, my voice a low murmur. “Because you are a martyr that needs to understand that despite being the world, you are not immune. Some people are not worth saving. And sometimes, just sometimes, you will not be able to help, despite your best intentions.” I reached forward, ghosting my hand over her pale and gaunt cheek. “Watch me,” I whispered. Belladonna’s face slowly formed into a grin. “Gladly.” I stayed with her that night. The two of us on opposite couches, watching each other across a small expanse. We didn’t speak because there was nothing to say. The dawn would bring a journey that would take us away from each other. History repeating itself over and over again. I wanted to memorize the way she looked at me. The way her eyes fluttered across her pale cheeks. I wanted to give her my blood. Put some life back in her eyes. When she fell asleep, I felt my heart soften. She laid there for the first time in front of me, eyes closed in slumber. Trusting me to protect her. To love her. I refused to let her down. [[Chapter Six]]<<if $hazelkey == "false">>The three tiered fountain stood before me. Once, it had been a landmark. A wayfarer to guide me to a place of rest. Looking at it now, it simply looked like another innocent bystander in the war that was waging beneath the market's gaze. It was chipped and coated with old wax. The water had long run dry in the basins. I thought about Hazel sitting here after I had died. The walls around had shut her in and given her very little in the way of paths to venture towards. How long did she sit before she gave up hope? How long did she even remember me? “Good evening.” I startled at the voice that came from behind me. A man stood somewhat in the shadows but his eyes glowed an infernal red. When he stepped forward, I knew I had met him before. How he danced in my memories or not was something I was unsure of. “Hello,” I responded. “You look troubled.” He walked forward, dragging his foot along with him. There was a damp patch to his side, seen just beneath where his hand pressed. Horns sprouted from either side of his head but one was snapped off and oozing a thick rust tinted liquid. Yet, he was smiling. A cordial grin that most nodded towards another when passing through the market streets. [[Do we know each other?]] [[You and I both look like we’ve been through it]] [[I look troubled?]]<<elseif $hazelkey == "true">>I slipped back inside Malcolm’s apartment that evening far more tired than I ever thought possible. On opposite sides of the market, laid two individuals. Gabriel shackled to the bed on one side, his grace bleeding out of him. And Hazel, lying comatose here, ripped from her mothers side in hopes that it was the best option for her continued safety. Both were hurting. Both were lost to the horrors of their own mind. And the world just kept turning as if they were nothing. It always left a little sickened node inside me when the world didn’t weep for one of their own. When I guess I didn’t weep for the ones I was to protect. Malcolm was sitting on the couch while Milo was nowhere to be seen. “How is she?” I asked, shutting the door behind me. “Sleeping. How is Gabriel?” “Sleeping.” We both knew there was more but it was something to be left in the morning, when both of us were not strung out. “Do you mind if I go in to be with her?” He shook his head. “I pushed my bed right next to hers. Figured you’d want to be with her tonight.” “Malcolm, you didn’t have to give up your bed.” “I don’t think I can sleep tonight. Too much is going on. Too much feels like it’s threatening to crash down.” His lips barely moved as he spoke, staring straight ahead at the enchanted glass. Instead of the bright orange and pink hues of the forever sunset he often had it on, the glass now reflected the stars in some far off land. “Malcolm, if you want to talk, we can,” I told him. He just shook his head. “Not tonight, $name. Just not tonight.” When I passed him, I placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He had such tension in his shoulders that all I could feel was a steel mass. Malcolm’s room was a place of peace. Light green walls with beautiful rustic wood floors. Large antique dressers and a four poster bed. The lighting was soft and soothing. Indirect and comforting. Next to his bed was Hazel’s. A small twin bed that was scooted up against the larger one. I had expected to find her asleep and selfishly, I just wanted to crawl into the bed next to her and pretend that everything was okay. But she was sitting up in the middle of her bed, her hair down around her shoulders, framing her cheeks in wild and kinky locks. Her eyes snapped up to mine. “$name?” she hiccuped. I could see the tears falling down her reddened cheeks. I paused. Because for the first time, there was actual recognition. Not a hazy one. Not one that only flickered. But true recognition. “Hazel?” A sob burst from her throat. [[Next|Chapter Five Hazel alt 2]] <</if>> “Do we know each other?” I asked. I stayed cautious, wracking my brain on whether or not this was a man that I could trust. “You look familiar.” “Do I?” he looked genuinely shocked by that. “Delightful.” I should have felt afraid. Ran from the strange man who invited himself to sit next to me. But the courtyard was getting brighter, feeling for once like the lanterns were back on. I had to look up at them twice to see if they were. They remained dark, however, only reflecting the wicks of the lit candles. “Can I help in any way?” he asked. I turned to look at him, catching the way his profile flickered. He had sharp jaw bones and dark skin. The nails on one of his hands were long and tipped gold. Yet sometimes, when my vision became unfocused, it was like he was something more. A howling beast, snarling and dancing in merriment through a burning street. [[Do you have a way to break a spell]] [[You should be more concerned about yourself]] [[What do you do when the woman you love doesn’t remember you?]]“You and I both look like we’ve been through it,” I commented, pointedly looking at his side. I should have felt afraid. Ran from the strange man who invited himself to sit next to me. But the courtyard was getting brighter, feeling for once like the lanterns were back on. I had to look up at them twice to see if they were. They remained dark, however, only reflecting the wicks of the lit candles. “Can I help in any way?” he asked. I turned to look at him, catching the way his profile flickered. He had sharp jaw bones and dark skin. The nails on one of his hands were long and tipped gold. Yet sometimes, when my vision became unfocused, it was like he was something more. A howling beast, snarling and dancing in merriment through a burning street. [[Do you have a way to break a spell]] [[You should be more concerned about yourself]] [[What do you do when the woman you love doesn’t remember you?]]“I’m the one who looks troubled?” I gave a pointed look at the wound oozing beneath his blue vest. “Oh, this?” he glanced down at his side. “Mere scratch.” Slowly, he lowered himself next to me, heat rolling off his body as the flames began to burn brighter around us. “Strange world we live in, huh?” I should have felt afraid. Ran from the strange man who invited himself to sit next to me. But the courtyard was getting brighter, feeling for once like the lanterns were back on. I had to look up at them twice to see if they were. They remained dark, however, only reflecting the wicks of the lit candles. “Can I help in any way?” he asked. I turned to look at him, catching the way his profile flickered. He had sharp jaw bones and dark skin. The nails on one of his hands were long and tipped gold. Yet sometimes, when my vision became unfocused, it was like he was something more. A howling beast, snarling and dancing in merriment through a burning street. [[Do you have a way to break a spell]] [[You should be more concerned about yourself]] [[What do you do when the woman you love doesn’t remember you?]]“You wouldn’t by any chance know how to break a spell.” I was only partially teasing of course. I didn’t even know what ailed Hazel. If it was a spell or an actual sickness. But I so very much wanted the ease of it being a spell we could counter. “Well now, that depends on the spell,” the man said. “What kind of specifics can you give me?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “One where the person forgets who you are.” “Memory spells are tough ones,” he conceded. His eyes were staring towards apothecary alley with purpose. The alley that shouldn't be there. “You noticed that too, huh?’ “Kind of hard to miss.” “I guess the spell that kept everyone away isn’t working. Which, I would say is fine, given how the world is going but–” “But a certain someone has returned and history is doomed to repeat itself.” He shifted uncomfortably, stretching one leg out before him. “I know all about that.” [[You didn’t just stumble upon me]] [[Do you know Lucinda Albright?]] “You look like you need to be more concerned about yourself. That is a lot of blood that is leaking from you.” “It’s fine. Daily occurrence where I come from.” When he shifted, he didn’t even wince. Instead, he looked curiously down at the bubble of blood that now dripped into the fountain, trying to wipe his hands off on his pants. “Wish the water would turn back on. There’s no reason for it to be off.” I glanced at the fountain. Now that he mentioned it, I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t running. The water source before had been produced by magic, I had assumed. And not by mine. So why was it not running? “Sometimes it’s easier to discuss relationship issues with a stranger,” he said without preamble. I looked over to him, trying to fight the urge to run. “But, if you don’t want to say anything, I understand. We could instead talk about that alley that shouldn’t even be there.” He nodded towards the new bustling life that was taking place in the burnt out shell of Lucinda’s past. “You noticed that too, huh?’ “Kind of hard to miss.” “I guess the spell that kept everyone away isn’t working. Which, I would say is fine, given how the world is going but–” “But a certain someone has returned and history is doomed to repeat itself.” He shifted uncomfortably, stretching one leg out before him. “I know all about that.” [[You didn’t just stumble upon me]] [[Do you know Lucinda Albright?]] I tipped my head back, curling my fingers against the white limestone of the fountain. “What do you do when the woman you love doesn’t remember you?” I asked. He hissed in a slight breath. “Cry. I think that’s the appropriate response.” “I’ve done it.” “Good. Now you figure out why they don’t remember you and choke the root of the problem.” “That’s what I’m trying to do. Kind of.” “I sense a ‘but’ there.” But I didn’t know how. Whether or not I had access to my higher powers wasn’t even something to contemplate right now. I couldn’t think of a way to get Hazel to safety other than brute force. Knowing Hazel, that wasn’t going to do any good. “Look, I’m sorry,” I told him. “I don’t know who you are.” “Sometimes it’s easier to discuss relationship issues with a stranger,” he said with a shrug. “But, if you don’t want to say anything, I understand. We could instead talk about that alley that shouldn’t even be there.” He nodded towards the new bustling life that was taking place in the burnt out shell of Lucinda’s past. “You noticed that too, huh?’ “Kind of hard to miss.” “I guess the spell that kept everyone away isn’t working. Which, I would say is fine, given how the world is going but–” “But a certain someone has returned and history is doomed to repeat itself.” He shifted uncomfortably, stretching one leg out before him. “I know all about that.” [[You didn’t just stumble upon me]] [[Do you know Lucinda Albright?]] “You didn’t just stumble upon me.” The man who appeared from nowhere ironically knew all about the alley. He knew about Hazel. And he certainly knew that the two of us were connected somehow. “If you need to believe that I just stumbled upon you, that is fine by me. Otherwise, the answer is ‘of course not’.” It was really funny. Before, no one knew who I was. This time around, it felt as if everyone knew me. I felt as if I was constantly watched. “What is it you want?” The toothy grin that followed was slightly unnerving. Yet, curiosity still persisted. I didn’t shy away from the man and simply waited for him to answer. “Two things,” the man said. “First, do you know the women down at the end of that alley?” He didn’t give me the time to respond. The answer was clearly yes. “Don’t say either of their names. Not unless you want to be heard. Second,” he leaned forward. “What do you think of the mother?” Oh, this man knew far far more than he let on and he wasn’t even going to pretend anymore. [[I didn’t trust her for a second]] [[I hated her. Everything Malcolm and Milo claimed was true]] [[The verdict was still out]]“Do you know Lu–” He hushed me. There was a whip of unfamiliar magic that was beginning to coax itself around the fountain behind us. “Ah! No. Don’t say those two words.” “Why?” “Because it’s like a little summoning thing for her. She is conceited enough to have put a spell on her name so she can listen in whenever someone is talking about her.” He placed a finger to his lips with a bitter little smile. “Become a bit more paranoid when it comes to her. Assume she can and will do anything.” “Alright,” I said slowly. “Do you know her though?” “Most people know of her,” he said with a nod. Whispers of her time here still lingered through the market. At least they had. I didn’t hear them much anymore. “When you’ve been around for a spell, you get to know all the key players.” “So she is a key player.” “You see, I’d hate to say that she is because I don’t want to give her any sort of credit but let’s just say, hell doesn't even want her.” My stomach twisted as I watched another family push their cart of belongings across the threshold of the alleyway. Brought there by Hazel and Lucinda. Hazel hated that alley, though. She didn’t even want to walk through it. “I think she is brainwashing her daughter,” I said flatly. “Wouldn’t surprise me.” No. The only person it would surprise is Hazel. “I need it to stop. I don’t know what she is up to but the alley suddenly being revived, her taking up residence in the apothecary again, paying the attention she does to Hazel…” [[I didn’t trust her for a second]] [[I hated her. Everything Malcolm and Milo claimed was true]] [[It was hard because she wasn’t technically doing anything wrong]] I didn’t trust her for a second. There was no reason for me not to. I had no definitive proof that she had done anything to Hazel. From what I could see, she looked as if she were operating on her own free will. In fact, how many times had Hazel been to see me since I had been back? Even without her memories. But there were coincidences I just couldn’t ignore. Lucinda returned to this life right before I was to depart. Hazel now lived with her mother and turned on everyone that she knew. Malcolm had not been able to remember to even go to his sister. Check on her. Be with her. While I couldn’t prove it, I felt as if Lucinda was behind it all. I didn’t trust the woman. Even a little bit. “Do you want to do something about all of this?” he asked. “The things happening in the apothecary. Possibly that alley.” “Of course I do,” I said. “Good.” He clapped his hands together, the sound briefly dousing the candlelight around us. I turned to the man, staring at him through the darkness. He was grinning, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s make a deal.” The candles burst into a bright light and the noise filtering in from the alley resumed. I hadn’t even realized it had gone quiet. Next to me, the flash of golden eyes swirled far too close for comfort. “I don’t think demons are allowed in the Night Market,” I said, my throat dry. It was some sort of innate knowledge that I had. Vaguely I remembered the problems we had had with their kind at one point. The door to hell was sealed. “We’re not,” he said with a nod. “Yet, that’s the funny thing about demons. We don’t often listen to the rules.” “So you are a demon.” “I didn’t say that.” “You said we.” He grinned. The blood was still on his clothes but his horn was beginning to grow back. “Look, you have a problem, I would like to offer my services. In a place like this, it may be necessary.” [[Why]] [[What does a deal consist of?]] [[How did you even get here?]] I hated everything about Lucinda Albright. All the things that Malcolm and Milo had said since knowing them had turned out to be true. The woman was smart, however. She didn’t show her hand. The abuse she doled out she did in the absence of anyone looking. If someone had just met her, they wouldn’t have any inclination that she was a danger. I wasn’t going to fall for it, however. I would bide my time and wait for her to mess up. And the second she did, I would take Hazel from her. “I can feel that, you know,” the man was saying. “That hatred. Keep it. Don't get tricked by whatever game she’s wanting to play. She’s someone who doesn’t mind waiting for what she wants.” “Then what am I supposed to do if she outwaits me?” “Leave that to me.” “What?” “Do you want to do something about all of this?” he asked. “The things happening in the apothecary. Possibly that alley.” “Of course I do,” I said. “Good.” He clapped his hands together, the sound briefly dousing the candlelight around us. I turned to the man, staring at him through the darkness. He was grinning, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s make a deal.” The candles burst into a bright light and the noise filtering in from the alley resumed. I hadn’t even realized it had gone quiet. Next to me, the flash of golden eyes swirled far too close for comfort. “I don’t think demons are allowed in the Night Market,” I said, my throat dry. It was some sort of innate knowledge that I had. Vaguely I remembered the problems we had had with their kind at one point. The door to hell was sealed. “We’re not,” he said with a nod. “Yet, that’s the funny thing about demons. We don’t often listen to the rules.” “So you are a demon.” “I didn’t say that.” “You said we.” He grinned. The blood was still on his clothes but his horn was beginning to grow back. “Look, you have a problem, I would like to offer my services. In a place like this, it may be necessary.” [[Why]] [[What does a deal consist of?]] [[How did you even get here?]] In the end, Lucinda wasn’t doing anything. Not anything we could confirm at least. Even Hazel’s memories were something the woman was pawning off as a concern. What was it she had said? Hazel was sick? As of yet we hadn’t actually seen evidence of Lucinda’s deeds. “Maybe I’m the crazy one,” I said with a sigh. “No. That’s kind of the power that woman has. Makes everyone else believe they are crazy. Gaslights them into thinking they are the problem. They never are.” Shaking his head, he looked down the alley. Towards the bustling shopkeeps. The carts filled with goods. Individuals were moving in and out and trying to start their lives again after hardship. This was a good thing. It had to be a good thing. But I couldn’t help but fear for every single soul within that alley. “Do you want to do something about all of this?” he asked. “The things happening in the apothecary. Possibly that alley.” “Of course I do,” I said. “Good.” He clapped his hands together, the sound briefly dousing the candlelight around us. I turned to the man, staring at him through the darkness. He was grinning, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s make a deal.” The candles burst into a bright light and the noise filtering in from the alley resumed. I hadn’t even realized it had gone quiet. Next to me, the flash of golden eyes swirled far too close for comfort. “I don’t think demons are allowed in the Night Market,” I said, my throat dry. It was some sort of innate knowledge that I had. Vaguely I remembered the problems we had had with their kind at one point. The door to hell was sealed. “We’re not,” he said with a nod. “Yet, that’s the funny thing about demons. We don’t often listen to the rules.” “So you are a demon.” “I didn’t say that.” “You said we.” He grinned. The blood was still on his clothes but his horn was beginning to grow back. “Look, you have a problem, I would like to offer my services. In a place like this, it may be necessary.” [[Why]] [[What does a deal consist of?]] [[How did you even get here?]] “Why would you want to help me?” I asked. “There are plenty of other people who have a grudge against her. Maybe more.” “More?” He laughed. “You are telling me that what she has done to the girl isn’t concerning you? Isn't it targeted directly at you?” He tsked. “Come now.” “But why do you care?” I asked, elongating my words. That was far more of a difficult question for the man. If he was able to speak, it was clear that he wouldn't. Otherwise, the question was just one that couldn't be answered. "In due time," he told me cyrptically. He kept bobbing his head towards the alley. One wrong word and she would hear. “So today, you were wandering and saw me, and just decided to try and make a deal?” “I’ve been watching you for a while. You are down on your luck. And I’ve just gotten the ability to deal back. So, what say you? Wish to shake my hand and gain the knowledge of how to take out the one keeping you from your love?” “That easy?” “No,” he laughed. “But it’s a start.” [[No deal]] [[Make a deal]] He wasn’t wrong. Deals with any kind of ally were important. Even if it was created with a creature that I had declared unfit for the market. Yet, I was curious. “What does a deal consist of?” I asked him. “Nothing too harsh,” he mused. “A little blood exchange. A little promise. And in return, I’ll give you a boon.” “What kind of boon?” “Little hard to say right now. Given, you know,” he motioned with his head down the alley. Lucinda was always listening. I wondered what percautions he had taken so we weren't heard now. “So today, you were wandering and saw me, and just decided to try and make a deal?” “I’ve been watching you for a while. You are down on your luck. And I’ve just gotten the ability to deal back. So, what say you? Wish to shake my hand and gain the knowledge of how to take out the one keeping you from your love?” “That easy?” “No,” he laughed. “But it’s a start.” [[No deal]] [[Make a deal]] “How did you even get here?” I asked. It was coming back to me now. One of my Gatekeepers had literally sealed the doors. Itiso. She had been tall with piercing blue eyes and skin speckled with vitiligo all up her arms and neck. She had held the position for six years and had closed off the gates of hell after the demons wreaked havoc on unsuspecting homes. We hadn’t seen them since. “I was trapped on this side when the doors closed,” he said with a shrug. “Plenty of us were.” “So the door to hell isn’t open?” “No, the gates are open again,” he laughed. “Most certainly. But only recently.” I would have to do something about that. But Itiso had been strong. Far stronger than Milo. I didn’t have a lot of faith that he had the ability to close it like she did. “If it’s any consolation, the demons all causing the problems have most likely been disposed of. We don’t just go in and maim and murder. Whatever they were doing wasn’t within our creed.” Something hit against the wall in my head. The conversation that I assumed had happened back then. Yet another memory I couldn’t access. “So today, you were wandering and saw me, and just decided to try and make a deal?” “I’ve been watching you for a while. You are down on your luck. And I’ve just gotten the ability to deal back. So, what say you? Wish to shake my hand and gain the knowledge of how to take out the one keeping you from your love?” “That easy?” “No,” he laughed. “But it’s a start.” [[No deal]] [[Make a deal]] “No deal,” I said. “I don’t deal with demons.” “You should really rethink that.” He didn’t seem offended but there was a different tinge to the air. A spark of sulfur. A slow and lingering smell of something spicy and clean. “I can’t. I can’t just go around making deals in order to get rid of her. I’ll deal with the woman we are speaking of, but I’ll do it on my own terms.” Nodding, the man stood. He was fully healed now, looking up at the sky and the swaying lanterns. For a minute, I thought they would light. I could almost see them filled with that warm glow again. But they remained dark. “I hope you do,” he said after a long moment. “I really hope you save the girl. You two are good together.” I almost thought it was a threat. My paranoia made it seem as if it were. But the man didn’t look angry. Just disappointed. When he looked up towards the lanterns, he seemed irritated, his face twisting into something unreadable. Then, it was all gone again. “Well, I’ll be off then,” he declared, jolly tone returning. “Just like that?” “What?” he laughed. “Did you want me to try and change your mind?” I didn’t know what I wanted. I guess I just hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. “A deal's a deal. If it’s a no in your heart, I can’t very well just make it for you.” Turning on his heel, he made his way towards an alley entrance that I could have sworn had not been there before. “I’ll be seeing you, Night. Time and time again.” In a blink, he was gone. Slipping into the shadows and far away from sight. They swallowed him, leaving behind only the cheshire grin of his teeth before he was nothing at all. [[Chapter Six]] <<set $laikindeal to "false">>“Deal,” I said. I didn’t even care what would happen. Lucinda needed to go. I held out my hand, ready to shake for the deal. “Ah,” he said, pulling his hand away. “Before I do this, no surprises. This isn’t going to be instant. She will not just explode and the market will go back to normal. This will take time. It will be a favor you can call on when the time is right.” “How will I know when the time is right?” “Do it at the last possible moment,” he said. “That is very important. You call on this at the last second or else the consequences are going to be dire. You do this too soon, loved ones will perish. Their souls will go to hell. Not the graves.” “Is it guaranteed to get rid of her?” “No. But it’s guaranteed to weaken her. To possibly save everyone in the last hour. Normally I wouldn’t tell you any of this. But let's not play a game when it comes to that one.” [[One second thought]] [[I take the deal]] “On second thought,” I interrupted before he could do anything. “I think maybe I shouldn’t take the deal.” He looked disappointed, sucking a hiss of breath through his pointed teeth. “Really? You sure?” I knew very little about demons. Very little about the deals they employed. If I was to do this, I could very well be signing my soul away. And then where would we be. “I’m sure.” For a moment, I thought he was going to lunge at me. His body was poised in such a way that he looked as if he were to spring forward, tackling me to the ground. The candles around us bloomed to a new height and the demon's shadow loomed across the walls with a clawed grip. But they faded away after three thudding heart beats, leaving me with sweat trickling down my brow. “Well, I’ll be off then,” he declared, jolly tone returning. “Just like that?” “What?” he laughed. “Did you want me to try and change your mind?” I didn’t know what I wanted. I guess I just hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. “A deals a deal. If it’s a no in your heart, I can’t very well just make it for you.” Turning on his heel, he made his way towards an alley entrance that I could have sworn had not been there before. “I’ll be seeing you, Night. Time and time again.” In a blink, he was gone. Slipping into the shadows and far away from sight. They swallowed him, leaving behind only the cheshire grin of his teeth before he was nothing at all. [[Chapter Six]] <<set $laikindeal to "false">>“I’ll take the deal,” I said, holding out my hand. “Good.” He didn’t reach out to shake my hand. He didn’t even say any words that would bind me to him. But I could feel the fire lick up the inside of my arm. I hissed in pain as the scent of burnt flesh surrounded me. That, along with the burning of sweet grass. Looking down, I could see just the edge of something dark and purple reached out from beneath the sleeve of my tunic. I pushed it up, only to find a dark swath of ink lacing around my arm. It glittered against me, looking like shredded bone, before sinking into my skin. When I looked back up at the man, felt the beat of his own heart match with mine. “What’s your name?” I asked as the demon rose. He looked taller somehow. Cheeks full again. Skin dark and rich. He had a charming smile to him and a youthful expression. “Laikin,” he said. It was familiar. Reminding me of garden strolls outside a carnival ball. My eyes went wide as I remembered the man. The one that Hazel took lunch with once a year. He must have seen the recognition in my eyes because he held one finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said, stepping backwards. “All in good time.” I stood, not willing to let this man go. Not just yet. But in a blink, he was gone. Slipping into the shadows and far away from sight. They swallowed him, leaving behind only the cheshire grin of his teeth before he was nothing at all. [[Chapter Six]] <<set $laikindeal to "true">><<if $hazelkey == "false">>Malcolm looked tired and haggard when I saw him again. I wondered if he had been wandering the streets since our time with Hazel. Clearing his head. I caught him, looking up at the tattered lanterns. I wondered if he still spoke to them at times. Nights like this were exactly the kind in which he would seek me out. Part of me felt guilty for not being here for him. When I had simply been the Night Market, I had not been pulled in so many directions. The crunch of gravel greeted him as I came closer. He turned, catching the expression on my face and turning fully to me. “That’s not a good look,” he said. I smiled wanly. “You’re one to talk.” He laughed a little, ducking his head down. The tips of his boots were dark and damp. It reminded me of the fishers quarry he used to go to. I had forgotten about the place until now. “Yeah. Guess it’s been a day. Was going to head home but wanted to make sure you were safe. How’s Gabriel?” With a small wave of my hand, I opened a passage within the broken walls. Malcolm raised an eyebrow at me, slightly impressed, and followed without a word. [[Next|Milo/Mal end 2]] <<elseif $hazelkey == "true">> When I arrived back at Malcolm’s, I didn’t knock. I just opened the door, walking into my Gatekeepers apartment only to find Malcolm leaning forward with Milo pacing the room. “What happened?” I asked, looking at the two of them and feeling my heart sink. They both stared back and me silently and I knew. I just knew. “She left, didn’t she.” Milo nodded. “I came back because I saw her walking back to the apothecary. I didn’t try to stop her. I didn’t think it would help. And there were people around.” Given how Hazel had reacted before, seeing Milo again was more of a danger to them than anyone else. Malcolm cleared his throat. “She got up and walked out. We talked a little but it was more of the same. She’s so entrenched in Lucinda’s dogma that there wasn’t anything I could say.” The pain that was there was piercing. There was nothing to be done at the moment when it came to Hazel. And it was a guilty pain that had lodged itself in all three of us. “What about Gabriel?” “He killed twenty guard,” I said numbly. “Shit,” Milo hissed. “So that’s what the madness does, huh?” I nodded. “He wants to purge the market of the unclean.” The words were haunting in their implication. Even on a good day, Gabriel didn’t look fondly on many. He just kept his mouth shut due to his position as a Warden. “Guess that means I’m on his chopping block,” Milo tried to joke. It fell flat. Two of our own had fallen due to the actions of both Milo and I. Fixing it may never be an option and it was a hard pill to swallow. Or perhaps I was just too tired to be positive any longer. “We’re going to have to juggle these situations carefully,” Malcolm said tiredly. “A Warden on his downward spiral and Lucinda setting up her pawns, are both equally as damaging. That’s not including the situation with the Fates.” I walked fully into the room, sitting on the arm of the couch. My head was reeling. “I don’t know if we can balance it all. Something is going to fall.” When Milo pushed off the wall, I nearly jumped. His own movements were erratic suddenly Walking over to the bookshelf, he ran his fingers over the volumes there, thumbnail catching on the tattered spines. “I could take care of one of them,” he suggested. “Meaning?” “I could just open a door beneath Lucinda and imprison her somewhere. It would hurt but… might be worth it.” “No,” Malcolm said. “Mal–” “No. That’s what she would want, Milo. Lucinda has already thought of every single solution and that would have been the first. She’s waiting for it.” I sighed. “I agree with Malcolm.” “Of course you do,” Milo snorted. I watched it all happen then. The way Milo’s back slowly began to tense. His free hand curling into a fist at his side. Now that he knew Malcolm and I were safe, the words from before were coming back to him. Not only that, but he was alone in a room with us, with nowhere to hide. Abruptly, he turned. “I should go.” [[I think that would be best (breakup)]] [[You’re not going anywhere]] [[Is that what you want to do?]] <</if>> “I wanted to make sure you were fine after Hazel. I know you needed some space today but I wasn’t going to leave you alone. Not after all that.” I hadn’t wanted to leave him in the first place. But the situation with the guard needed to be addressed as well. And in the end, it was better that I laid eyes on Gabriel. Knew what we were all getting into. The situation was far from handled but I didn’t feel as if the market was in danger from him. Not at the moment. “I appreciate that,” Malcolm said softly. “But you don’t need to take care of me, $name.” We stepped out onto a dirty path, passing several other market goers all trying to rebuild. “Who does take care of you, Malcolm?” He laughed a little. “Me. Isn’t that how it should be?” It wasn’t. Not in the way I knew he meant. But Malcolm was a man who had to take care of everyone else for most of his life. With an absent mother and a younger sister, he hadn’t the luxury of care bestowed upon him. We stopped outside the door that would lead down to the tunnels towards his house. Malcolm stood before me, hands in his jacket pockets. Loose strands of hair had fallen from the bun he had pulled it in. I hadn’t noticed before how deep his gaze was. Or the way the colors in his eyes shifted with his thoughts. “Come down to the apartment tonight,” he asked quietly. “After everything today…” “What?” I urged when he trailed off. “I just don’t like the idea of you out of my sight,” he snorted in laughter a bit. “But I also hate how chauvinistic and controlling that sounds.” [[Malcolm Albright, asshole of the century]] [[Just don’t make a habit of it]] [[I don’t want to be alone either]]“Honestly, Mal. You might be the only person I can safely talk to,” I told him. There was something comfortable between Malcolm and I. There was no qualms in telling him what was on my mind. What the day had brought. I imagined, really, it was what spending your life with someone was supposed to be like. “What?” he asked with a quirk of his lips. “The riveting ‘fuck you’ conversation with Turner doesn’t do it for you?” “I need a bit more variety,” I laughed. “Though, Iblis may beat you out. That little one is quickly becoming a wonderful confidant. As long as I, you know, follow him around and let him be feral.” Malcolm shook his head, his steps suddenly lighter. “I’ll have to come by and meet the kid. Miss seeing little ones running around in the market.” We stopped outside the door that would lead down to the tunnels towards his house. Malcolm stood before me, hands in his jacket pockets. Loose strands of hair had fallen from the bun he had pulled it in. I hadn’t noticed before how deep his gaze was. Or the way the colors in his eyes shifted with his thoughts. “Come down to the apartment tonight,” he asked quietly. “After everything today…” “What?” I urged when he trailed off. “I just don’t like the idea of you out of my sight,” he snorted in laughter a bit. “But I also hate how chauvinistic and controlling that sounds.” [[Malcolm Albright, asshole of the century]] [[Just don’t make a habit of it]] [[I don’t want to be alone either]]“I’ll always come your way,” I told him gently. I didn’t know if it was today or maybe forever, but I suddenly was looking at him differently. Malcolm had been a constant in my life, even after death. And I was the same to him. I knew then that I couldn’t leave him. I never wanted to. “And I you,” he whispered back. The wind snatched up our promise, holding it close. And for a single moment, I thought the lights above might flicker. We stopped outside the door that would lead down to the tunnels towards his house. Malcolm stood before me, hands in his jacket pockets. Loose strands of hair had fallen from the bun he had pulled it in. I hadn’t noticed before how deep his gaze was. Or the way the colors in his eyes shifted with his thoughts. “Come down to the apartment tonight,” he asked quietly. “After everything today…” “What?” I urged when he trailed off. “I just don’t like the idea of you out of my sight,” he snorted in laughter a bit. “But I also hate how chauvinistic and controlling that sounds.” [[Malcolm Albright, asshole of the century]] [[Just don’t make a habit of it]] [[I don’t want to be alone either]] “Malcolm Albright, asshole of the century,” I grinned. “That’s me. I should have a sign made.” “I’ll get right on that.” In truth, I didn’t want to go back to Artisan Alley right now either. Crawling through that window alone was the last thing I wanted. “I’ll come back for a little while,” I told him. “Want to have some tea?” he asked. “I would really like that.” Pulling open the ringed handle of the door, he led me down to his apartment. The candles that dotted the walls were ones he lit every day before leaving and were now burned low, ready to sputter out for the night. The darkness, however, was the safety that Malcolm relied on. At least when it came to his front door. Privacy had always been important to him. A solitude he could escape to. Given his past, I was almost certain it was a necessity as well. As soon as he opened the door to his apartment, however, a wash of light spilled out. It felt warm and inviting and immediately beckoned me in. Malcolm shut the door behind me, setting his keys down and locking several of the dead bolts. “Well?” Both of us jumped. Milo sat on the arm of the couch, staring at us with strung out eyes. There was a pile of paper beneath his feet. Something he had been fretting over, ripping up into small pieces as he no doubtedly paced the apartment. “How did you get my key?” Malcolm demanded. “I’m the Gatekeeper. I have everyone's key.” Standing up, Milo walked towards the two of us, gaze flickering back and forth. “Is Hazel on her way?” It had been hours. We had forgotten to send word to Milo and let him know. The last he saw, we had been escorted away by Lucinda. And that was it. Apparently he had been waiting here, pacing Malcolm’s living room. The evidence of it was all around as he had rummaged through Malcolm’s things in his impatience. “Hazel’s not coming,” I told him. His eyes whipped to mine. “What the hell do you mean she’s not coming? The entire point of letting you go there was so you’d get her away from that bitch.” “She didn’t want to come with us. We tried, but she didn’t budge.” Everything in me said it was due to Lucinda. But I had been there and watched the interaction between Hazel and Malcolm. I was no longer certain what was going on with Hazel. “What about the damn key?” Milo looked at Malcolm incredulously. The key was still inside Malcolm’s pocket. “Mal, I gave you that for a reason. It would have led you right here. Could you not use it? Let me see it. I’ll give you another one.” With his hand held out, he gestured urgently at Malcolm. Because of course Milo was going to think that there was something wrong with the key. Not that we had simply made the choice not to force her to come with us. “Milo,” Malcolm said tiredly. “Not now.” He moved past him and towards the kitchen where he pulled down a large cast iron kettle. He began preparing a pot of tea, his back to the two of us. I thought Milo would say something. Fight Malcolm in some way. But he was only looking on in confusion. Shifting, I took off my coat and kicked off my shoes. It caught Milo’s attention just enough. “How bad is it?” Milo asked, voice low. [[She blames you for everything]] [[Lucinda is clearly manipulating her]] [[There’s a lot more hurt between them than I realized]]“Just don’t make a habit of it,” I told him teasingly. I doubted Malcolm would make demands of me anytime soon. It didn’t seem to be in his nature. “I’ll come down to the apartment with you,” I told him. Just for a bit.” “Want to have some tea?” he asked. “I would really like that.” Pulling open the ringed handle of the door, he led me down to his apartment. The candles that dotted the walls were ones he lit every day before leaving and were now burned low, ready to sputter out for the night. The darkness, however, was the safety that Malcolm relied on. At least when it came to his front door. Privacy had always been important to him. A solitude he could escape to. Given his past, I was almost certain it was a necessity as well. As soon as he opened the door to his apartment, however, a wash of light spilled out. It felt warm and inviting and immediately beckoned me in. Malcolm shut the door behind me, setting his keys down and locking several of the dead bolts. “Well?” Both of us jumped. Milo sat on the arm of the couch, staring at us with strung out eyes. There was a pile of paper beneath his feet. Something he had been fretting over, ripping up into small pieces as he no doubtedly paced the apartment. “How did you get my key?” Malcolm demanded. “I’m the Gatekeeper. I have everyone's key.” Standing up, Milo walked towards the two of us, gaze flickering back and forth. “Is Hazel on her way?” It had been hours. We had forgotten to send word to Milo and let him know. The last he saw, we had been escorted away by Lucinda. And that was it. Apparently he had been waiting here, pacing Malcolm’s living room. The evidence of it was all around as he had rummaged through Malcolm’s things in his impatience. “Hazel’s not coming,” I told him. His eyes whipped to mine. “What the hell do you mean she’s not coming? The entire point of letting you go there was so you’d get her away from that bitch.” “She didn’t want to come with us. We tried, but she didn’t budge.” Everything in me said it was due to Lucinda. But I had been there and watched the interaction between Hazel and Malcolm. I was no longer certain what was going on with Hazel. “What about the damn key?” Milo looked at Malcolm incredulously. The key was still inside Malcolm’s pocket. “Mal, I gave you that for a reason. It would have led you right here. Could you not use it? Let me see it. I’ll give you another one.” With his hand held out, he gestured urgently at Malcolm. Because of course Milo was going to think that there was something wrong with the key. Not that we had simply made the choice not to force her to come with us. “Milo,” Malcolm said tiredly. “Not now.” He moved past him and towards the kitchen where he pulled down a large cast iron kettle. He began preparing a pot of tea, his back to the two of us. I thought Milo would say something. Fight Malcolm in some way. But he was only looking on in confusion. Shifting, I took off my coat and kicked off my shoes. It caught Milo’s attention just enough. “How bad is it?” Milo asked, voice low. [[She blames you for everything]] [[Lucinda is clearly manipulating her]] [[There’s a lot more hurt between them than I realized]]“It’s not chauvinistic,” I assured him. “I don’t really want to be alone either. At least for a little while.” Going back to artisan alley and crawling through that window was the last thing I wanted to do at the moment. “Want to have some tea?” he asked. “I would really like that.” Pulling open the ringed handle of the door, he led me down to his apartment. The candles that dotted the walls were ones he lit every day before leaving and were now burned low, ready to sputter out for the night. The darkness, however, was the safety that Malcolm relied on. At least when it came to his front door. Privacy had always been important to him. A solitude he could escape to. Given his past, I was almost certain it was a necessity as well. As soon as he opened the door to his apartment, however, a wash of light spilled out. It felt warm and inviting and immediately beckoned me in. Malcolm shut the door behind me, setting his keys down and locking several of the dead bolts. “Well?” Both of us jumped. Milo sat on the arm of the couch, staring at us with strung out eyes. There was a pile of paper beneath his feet. Something he had been fretting over, ripping up into small pieces as he no doubtedly paced the apartment. “How did you get my key?” Malcolm demanded. “I’m the Gatekeeper. I have everyone's key.” Standing up, Milo walked towards the two of us, gaze flickering back and forth. “Is Hazel on her way?” It had been hours. We had forgotten to send word to Milo and let him know. The last he saw, we had been escorted away by Lucinda. And that was it. Apparently he had been waiting here, pacing Malcolm’s living room. The evidence of it was all around as he had rummaged through Malcolm’s things in his impatience. “Hazel’s not coming,” I told him. His eyes whipped to mine. “What the hell do you mean she’s not coming? The entire point of letting you go there was so you’d get her away from that bitch.” “She didn’t want to come with us. We tried, but she didn’t budge.” Everything in me said it was due to Lucinda. But I had been there and watched the interaction between Hazel and Malcolm. I was no longer certain what was going on with Hazel. “What about the damn key?” Milo looked at Malcolm incredulously. The key was still inside Malcolm’s pocket. “Mal, I gave you that for a reason. It would have led you right here. Could you not use it? Let me see it. I’ll give you another one.” With his hand held out, he gestured urgently at Malcolm. Because of course Milo was going to think that there was something wrong with the key. Not that we had simply made the choice not to force her to come with us. “Milo,” Malcolm said tiredly. “Not now.” He moved past him and towards the kitchen where he pulled down a large cast iron kettle. He began preparing a pot of tea, his back to the two of us. I thought Milo would say something. Fight Malcolm in some way. But he was only looking on in confusion. Shifting, I took off my coat and kicked off my shoes. It caught Milo’s attention just enough. “How bad is it?” Milo asked, voice low. [[She blames you for everything]] [[Lucinda is clearly manipulating her]] [[There’s a lot more hurt between them than I realized]]“Hazel blames you for everything,” I told him. Moving to the sofa, I sat myself down, not sure if I could keep myself on my feet for much longer. Milo didn’t join me, but he moved a little closer to the living room area. “I thought she might,” he said after a moment. “But I wasn’t there. I shouldn’t have even come up.” “Milo, given how you handled everything, you are going to be a topic of conversation for a long while.” "Fun," he murmered sardonically. Then, turning to me, he straightened his shoulders, going still for the first time. “Why didn’t Hazel come with you and Mal?” Malcolm was taking a suspiciously long time in the kitchen. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, sitting in the living room near the man that I barely knew. It was funny, really. For how much time I had spent with Milo, I didn’t actually know him at all. “She doesn’t remember me. And she thinks Malcolm has abandoned her. According to Hazel, Lucinda is the only one that has been there for her.” And to an outsider, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Milo had disappeared. I was wandering the liminal spaces of my own mind, and for whatever reason, Malcolm had stayed away. It was easy to think that it was a spell. Some wrongdoing by Lucinda herself. But we couldn’t prove it. And with everything that had been happening, the ways that the walls had all been moving, it was entirely possible that despite good intentions, Malcolm truly hadn’t made the effort with his sister. Milo stared at Malcolm’s back, arms crossed against his chest. “But is Hazel okay? Is she in danger there?” ‘ “I don’t know how to answer that. We’ve left her there for months. Do I think another night is going to harm her? No. The harm may already be done, Milo.” “Right.” He pushed off against the wall to resume his pacing again. Walking over to the bookshelf, he ran his fingers over the volumes there, thumbnail catching on the tattered spines. I watched it all happen then. The way his back slowly began to tense. His free hand curling into a fist at his side. Now that he knew Malcolm and I were safe, the words from before were coming back to him. Not only that, but he was alone in a room with us, with nowhere to hide. Abruptly, he turned. “I should go.” [[I think that would be best (breakup)]] [[You’re not going anywhere]] [[Is that what you want to do?]] “Lucinda is clearly manipulating her,” I told him. Moving to the sofa, I sat myself down, not sure if I could keep myself on my feet for much longer. “I’m just not sure how. I feel crazy sometimes for even saying it.” Milo didn’t join me, but he moved a little closer to the living room area. “That bitch would like nothing more than to get her clutches in Hazel. In Malcolm.” The frusteration bled from his voice. Years of built up agony over observing his two friends jump through the hoops that Lucinda had given them. “Why didn’t Hazel come with you and Mal?” Milo finally asked. Malcolm was taking a suspiciously long time in the kitchen. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, sitting in the living room near the man that I barely knew. It was funny, really. For how much time I had spent with Milo, I didn’t actually know him at all. “She doesn’t remember me. And she thinks Malcolm has abandoned her. According to Hazel, Lucinda is the only one that has been there for her.” And to an outsider, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Milo had disappeared. I was wandering the liminal spaces of my own mind, and for whatever reason, Malcolm had stayed away. It was easy to think that it was a spell. Some wrongdoing by Lucinda herself. But we couldn’t prove it. And with everything that had been happening, the ways that the walls had all been moving, it was entirely possible that despite good intentions, Malcolm truly hadn’t made the effort with his sister. Milo stared at Malcolm’s back, arms crossed against his chest. “But is Hazel okay? Is she in danger there?” ‘ “I don’t know how to answer that. We’ve left her there for months. Do I think another night is going to harm her? No. The harm may already be done, Milo.” “Right.” He pushed off against the wall to resume his pacing again. Walking over to the bookshelf, he ran his fingers over the volumes there, thumbnail catching on the tattered spines. I watched it all happen then. The way his back slowly began to tense. His free hand curling into a fist at his side. Now that he knew Malcolm and I were safe, the words from before were coming back to him. Not only that, but he was alone in a room with us, with nowhere to hide. Abruptly, he turned. “I should go.” [[I think that would be best (breakup)]] [[You’re not going anywhere]] [[Is that what you want to do?]] “There’s a lot more hurt between her and Malcolm than I realized. And it reared its ugly head today.” Moving to the sofa, I sat myself down, not sure if I could keep myself on my feet for much longer. Milo shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. I noticed the way he glanced towards the kitchen. “The two of them have this thing that they do. They get mad at each other and then hug it out and forget. But I don’t know if they actually talk about it.” I raised a brow towards him. “What? Just because I’m emotionally stunted doesn’t mean I can’t see things like that?” That got a twitch of a smile out of me. “You’re not wrong. I’ve just never seen Malcolm like that. Hazel a few times but I thought it would be different with how hard she fought to bring Malcolm home.” Hazel had nearly killed herself to bring her brother back. And the second she did, Milo had left and the beginning of the end happened. Malcolm had not stuck around for much longer. “Why didn’t Hazel come with you and Mal?” Milo finally asked. Malcolm was taking a suspiciously long time in the kitchen. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, sitting in the living room near the man that I barely knew. It was funny, really. For how much time I had spent with Milo, I didn’t actually know him at all. “She doesn’t remember me. And she thinks Malcolm has abandoned her. According to Hazel, Lucinda is the only one that has been there for her.” And to an outsider, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Milo had disappeared. I was wandering the liminal spaces of my own mind, and for whatever reason, Malcolm had stayed away. It was easy to think that it was a spell. Some wrongdoing by Lucinda herself. But we couldn’t prove it. And with everything that had been happening, the ways that the walls had all been moving, it was entirely possible that despite good intentions, Malcolm truly hadn’t made the effort with his sister. Milo stared at Malcolm’s back, arms crossed against his chest. “But is Hazel okay? Is she in danger there?” ‘ “I don’t know how to answer that. We’ve left her there for months. Do I think another night is going to harm her? No. The harm may already be done, Milo.” “Right.” He pushed off against the wall to resume his pacing again. Walking over to the bookshelf, he ran his fingers over the volumes there, thumbnail catching on the tattered spines. I watched it all happen then. The way his back slowly began to tense. His free hand curling into a fist at his side. Now that he knew Malcolm and I were safe, the words from before were coming back to him. Not only that, but he was alone in a room with us, with nowhere to hide. Abruptly, he turned. “I should go.” [[I think that would be best (breakup)]] [[You’re not going anywhere]] [[Is that what you want to do?]] “I think that would be best,” I told him. “This needs to end. Between you and I. I can’t do this.” He looked at me in confusion. “I know. I– $name, I didn’t think– of course you can’t do this. There’s no question about that. I’m not…” he ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “Shit. $name, I get what I did. I do. I get that I lost you. I understand all of that. I’m not looking for you to forgive me. I don’t even want you to.” “I get that I came down here to live a life. That I knew what this ritual would bring. But what I didn’t understand was the feeling of betrayal and pain. It lingers, Milo. It doesn’t just go away.” I could hear him swallow thickly at that. “I know.” “I can’t be with someone when every time I look at you I think of all the ways you didn’t talk to me. Didn’t trust me. That you just put everyone else's needs above us. And the duplicity of that night. It felt like a show. You didn’t have to do it that way. You could have //told// me.” “$name, I know. There is so much that I should have done differently. I was in over my head. I wasn’t thinking right. I was tired and strung out and feeling like one wrong move was going to bring an end to //everything//. I know that I didn’t do anything right that night and I certainly didn’t do right by you.” “But would you change it? If you could go back with what you know now, would you change it?” A tear slipped down his cheek. “In a fucking heartbeat.” I felt something inside me break. For all the things that could have been. All the moments that were never going to have. It would have been easier if he was indignant. Mad at me. The villain I wanted him to be. But he was just Milo. Clueless with far too much responsibility weighing him down and I was unfortunately the bystander in it all. Clearing his throat, he grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “Let me know when you hear from Bella,” he said. “I still want to be able to try and set right this situation.” I didn’t respond to him or look up as he walked out of the room. The door clicked shut and I sunk back down to the couch, feeling far more tired than I had any right to be. It was over. There was no lingering doubt between us. Our relationship had ended and we were free to move forward, trying to find out how to set the market right once more. A tray was put down in front of me with a steaming kettle of tea and three cups. Malcolm sat down on the floor, pouring tea for two. His face was an even mask. I knew he had heard everything I had just said, knowing what had transpired. Given who Milo was to him, I was waiting for him to say something. But when he didn’t, agitation began to fill me. [[I did what I had to]] [[Do you disagree with me?]] [[Just say what’s on your mind]] “You’re not going anywhere,” I told him. My voice was calm and yet it was like snapping him to attention. He looked at me with wide eyes, his expression shocked at my demand. It was clearly not what he had been expecting. “You want me to stay?” he asked, voice tinged with disbelief and anger. “I won’t be sticking around for you to berate me, if that’s what you’re wanting to do.” I nodded. “And you’re not going to turn this into something about you. There were some things that were said earlier and we are going to talk about it. There is a lot we need to talk about.” He was becoming agitated. Every time a moment of silence passed and the past came looming forward, Milo began to spiral. I could almost time it, watching the way his movements started to stutter and his eyes started spinning around the room. Milo pinched the bridge of his nose, nails digging into his skin. “How about we just don’t do this, yeah? You and I both know where this is going to lead and lets just skip past all of it and get to the end. I fucked up. We are done. We’ll work together while we have to but I’ll make sure to be scarce after.” I stared at him. [[You want to break up with me?]] [[It’s not that simple. We need to talk]] [[When are you going to start trusting me?]] “Is that what you want?” I asked him. I was putting it in his hands deliberately. Not say anything, and he would storm out. Tell him to stay, and there would be a lingering doubt swirling in my mind that I forced him to talk. Ask him, however, make sure he didn’t lie, and maybe the truth could finally come out. Milo opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His jaw clicked shut then, eyes darting around the room. He was pinned in place. Despite no one holding him back, he was still there. Unmoving. When the answer finally came, I felt as if I had won some long fought battle. “No,” he whispered. “Then why are you going?” I didn’t take my eyes from him for fear that if I even blinked, he’d be gone. “You two didn’t expect me to be here. Shouldn’t I be giving you time?” “You’re not answering the question.” The man who couldn’t lie had gotten awfully good at answering inquiries without answering them at all. Milo pinched the bridge of his nose, nails digging into his skin. “How about we just don’t do this, yeah? You and I both know where this is going to lead and lets just skip past all of it and get to the end. I fucked up. We are done. We’ll work together while we have to but I’ll make sure to be scarce after.” I stared at him. [[You want to break up with me?]] [[It’s not that simple. We need to talk]] [[When are you going to start trusting me?]] “Do you want to break up with me?” I asked. We hadn’t spoken of our relationship once since I had come back. We had barely even spoken of us. It had been a looming nightmare in the corner of every interaction we had where we had only scratched the surface before retreating to our separate corners. Milo only looked at me in complete confusion, opening and closing his mouth with a silent click. “We–” he shuffled back and forth. “We aren’t in a relationship. Are we?” “I don’t know. You never said anything.” The huff of laughter that left him held no amusement. “What was I supposed to say? Hey baby, I know I just opened your chest and accidentally let a goblin climb inside, but would you like to go get a drink with me? Go back to my place where we can roll around on a mattress?” “You really need to get a bedframe,” Malcolm muttered from the kitchen. Milo ignored him. “There is no world where I thought we were in a relationship after what I had done, $name. I’m not that stupid.” I raised a brow at him. “Stupid, huh? Because I was operating that we were in a relationship. And you’ve just been running away from me every chance that you got.” My words were a physical strike against him as he reared back. Disbelief colored his cheeks and even in the kitchen, Malcolm didn’t say a word. “You what? Why? I– why?” “I don’t know,” I told him honestly. Chalk it up to the naivety of my situation, I supposed. “I’ve never done this before, remember? You’re kind of the first person I’ve loved.” He swallowed, his throat clicking in response. Wherever he thought this conversation was going to go, it had not been here. He was not prepared. Which I was finding was the best way to begin a conversation with Milo. “$name, please, we don’t have to do this…” [[Yes we do]] [[Get up and go to him]]“It’s not that simple,” I told him. “We need to talk. Everything that has happened has been lingering and I understood that we both needed time but Milo, my life is not one made of time. I don’t even know how long I’m going to be here. Everything keeps spiraling and it’s one situation after another and if we don’t address it, we are going to constantly shove this conversation out of the way until neither of us have the courage to bring it up anymore.” “That. Let’s do that.” “No.” I could see the frustration coursing through him. How many people in his life had actually held his feet to the fire. Held him accountable for the emotions he thought made him too weak. “You’re not leaving until we do this, Milo.” “$name, please, we don’t have to do this…” [[Yes we do]] [[Get up and go to him]]“When are you going to start trust me?” After everything, the lies, the secrets, the ball and the preceding months apart. The life or death situation that was our relationship. The failed spells. The misunderstandings. After all of it, I was still here. I was still sitting on a sofa at night, in the same room as him, speaking of the future. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I wondered when he was going to realize that. “I do trust you.” It was what he wanted to say. I could hear it. But instead… “I want to trust you.” I stared at him sadly. Want. I was almost certain that Milo didn’t trust anyone. It was a habit that had been threaded within too many broken bones. Heartache was synonymous with who he was and how he related to people and he didn’t believe that a single person could look at him and find worth. Milo leaned against the wall, looking to it for support. The door was so close and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move towards it. In the kitchen, Malcolm had gone suspiciously silent. “I really want to trust you,” he repeated, trying to drive the point home. “Then why can’t you?” “$name, please, we don’t have to do this…” [[Yes we do]] [[Get up and go to him]]“Yes we do,” I told him. “It’s your choice how you want to handle this but this is happening right now. How are we proceeding, Milo? Are you just my Gatekeeper or are you something more?” “Why would you want me to be anything more?” he asked, voice raw. “You were there that night. I saw it on your face. You were terrified.” “I was. And I won’t lie to you, it still scares me. There are moments where I remember it. The slide of that key into my chest. The way the lights all dimmed. I never felt pain. During the entire thing I didn’t actually feel it. But I kept looking at you. And all I could think as my memories came flooding back to me, is why didn’t he just tell me? But given what we learned today, I know why.” “I still should have said something,” he whispered, trying to refute my words. “I should have known that there was always another way.” “Maybe,” I told him. “Maybe not. Or maybe you were someone so overwhelmed with what he was given that you wanted to trust someone to help you. And you were betrayed.” His eyes glazed over with the irony of it all. One by one, I saw the wall he kept trying to rebuild crumble around him. Bit by bit, it was being torn down, whether he liked it or not, leaving him with nothing but the raw vulnerability that had been beaten out of him each time it reared its head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck, $name, I– I’m so sorry.” “I know.” “I don’t know how to make this better,” he confessed. “And I’m scared. I keep trying to go out there and fix this all, fix you, but I just keep making it worse. And I’m afraid that if I keep up like this then it’s going to happen again and again.” Tears began slipping down his cheeks as he stared at me. “I can’t handle this happening again.” “Then don’t let it.” “How?” “Trust me. You have to start trusting people. Stop running.” “I don’t know if I know how to do that. I’ve never had to not run.” I nodded. “Then make me a promise. Try not to run. Try as best you can. But if you can’t, if you mess up and run, trust that I will find you.” The sob ripped from his throat then as he slid down the wall, his legs finally giving out on him. He covered his face with his hands, nodding as his words caught in his throat. The pain would dull over time. The pain of betrayal. Having someone I love hurt me. I knew now why people did what they did in response to love. How it could drive someone to such lengths. I had once thought it a romanticized moment in time where lovers met for an infinite kiss. Now I knew that love was ugly. It hurt. It bred moments like this that left lovers broken and raw. And yet it was the most beautiful feeling I had ever held dear. And I wanted to protect it. “I’m sorry,” he kept whispering. “I’m so sorry.” [[We have to move forward|We have to move forward 2]] [[You can’t do this ever again|You can't do this ever again 2]] I rose from where I was sitting, making my way around the coffee table to where he stood. Here, I could see the way his eyes grew wet. He was scared to even get near me. After everything he did, I thought I would have been the one to be afraid of him. Afraid of his touch. But instead, he was afraid of me. Because one touch from me, and I knew he would break. “We can’t go on like this,” I told him. “You have to stop running eventually, Milo.” “I’m not running.” He tried to peel away. Walk around me. But I stood firm. And even with my body the way it was, he didn’t dare try to pass through. “I just don’t want to be here.” “Why?” “Because I don’t!” I stepped closer. “Why?” I pressed. He sucked in a shaky breath. “You know why.” “Then say it.” He closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from me. “Say it, Milo.” The keys against his belt rattled, threatening to tear a door open for his escape. I could see the way his hands inched towards them, filling his need to run and hide. It was an ache in my own soul. The amount of pain that blackened his heart, covered only by barely healed scar tissue. “Say it,” I urged. He banged his head back against the wall, losing the battle he had been warring with inside his own head. “Because it hurts,” he said. “Because I can’t have you. I don’t deserve to have you. Because I’m not good enough for you and I never will be.” Opening his eyes, he looked at me, the amber flames of the lanterns that should have been flickering in his gaze. “Because I fell in love with you and the only lie I was ever able to tell was the one that said I didn’t.” I could feel it then. The sob that was caught in his chest. The ache of all the guilt and pain that he had been holding onto for so long lodged right in his chest. Slowly, I lifted my hand, pouring everything I had in it. Enough was enough. It was time to be here now. To be with him. The moment my hand made contact with his cheeks, his eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath. The cry ripped from his throat, bursting from his chest as tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Fuck, $name, I am so sorry.” “I know,” I told him. As he sunk down the wall, I followed him, taking him in my arms. The sobs that ripped from his chest were ugly and wounded, tearing from him in agony as he pressed against my body now, wrapping his arms around my waist. I hushed him, running my fingers through his hair as I bent over him, feeling my own tears flood my cheeks. The pain would dull over time. The pain of betrayal. Having someone I love hurt me. I knew now why people did what they did in response to love. How it could drive someone to such lengths. I had once thought it a romanticized moment in time where lovers met for an infinite kiss. Now I knew that love was ugly. It hurt. It bred moments like this that left lovers broken and raw. And yet it was the most beautiful feeling I had ever held dear. And I wanted to protect it. “I’m sorry,” he kept whispering. “I’m so sorry.” [[We have to move forward]] [[Just hold him]] [[You can’t do this ever again]] “We have to move forward,” I told him. “No more of this from either of us. The past is there and it is unchangeable. But we can change the future.” “But everything that was done–” “We can be two things at once, Milo. You understand that, right? We can be hurt and still love. We can make mistakes and deal with the consequences. We can cause more problems than we ever intended to. You and I both did that. We both went forward with the information we had. We both made decisions that cost us. And we were both played.” “It doesn’t excuse what I did,” his voice cracked. “I’m not excusing you. No one is. But what I’m trying to tell you is you can be an instigator to the problem and you can also be hurt by it as well. It’s what you do after that matters more to me. You’ve been trying, Milo. Trying to fix this world. From the second I came down here, that was your goal. Love just got in the way.” He laughed bitterly. “The irony.” “Yes, the irony.” I didn’t know how long we sat there. My legs went numb eventually and Milo’s tears began to dry. Malcolm came into view though. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Let’s get the two of you up and to the sofa,” he whispered. “I made you both tea.” Milo curled closer, as if he was reluctant to move from my embrace. Not that I blamed him. I was afraid that the second I let him go, I would disappear again. But slowly, Malcolm helped untangle him, looping an arm around me to help me to the couch as pins and needles filled my leg. After Malcolm got us settled, he handed both of us a mug, encouraging us to take deep sips. The gramophone came on in the background, filling the room with a soft melody. The crackle and pop of the record tickled against me as a slow bluesy tune filled the living room. I looked over at Milo, seeing his eyes close as he swayed a little to the song. [[Malcolm, could you give us a moment]] [[Malcolm, pour yourself some tea too]] I held him. It was all that mattered at the moment. Holding him close and feeling the way he held me in return. There was so much more to his touch than he ever was able to convey with his words. I could feel the regret in each flinch of his fingers. The gratitude in the way he pressed his cheek close to my skin. The way he was thankful for an opportunity he never felt like he would get. I held Milo close, allowing him to heal, and in return, feeling the bandages rip away from my own skin, leaving me fresh and new. I didn’t know how long we sat there. My legs went numb eventually and Milo’s tears began to dry. Malcolm came into view though. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Let’s get the two of you up and to the sofa,” he whispered. “I made you both tea.” Milo curled closer, as if he was reluctant to move from my embrace. Not that I blamed him. I was afraid that the second I let him go, I would disappear again. But slowly, Malcolm helped untangle him, looping an arm around me to help me to the couch as pins and needles filled my leg. After Malcolm got us settled, he handed both of us a mug, encouraging us to take deep sips. The gramophone came on in the background, filling the room with a soft melody. The crackle and pop of the record tickled against me as a slow bluesy tune filled the living room. I looked over at Milo, seeing his eyes close as he swayed a little to the song. [[Malcolm, could you give us a moment]] [[Malcolm, pour yourself some tea too]] “You can’t do this again,” I whispered in his ear. “Ever.” “I won’t,” he gasped, clinging to me. “I promise, I won’t.” “You have to stop running from me, alright? You have to start trusting me.” Somehow, that was a harder pill to swallow. Because Milo had always run. From his friends. HIs family. Each problem he had. This was the first time he had to be confronted with it all. “I’ll try,” he finally whispered, not quite looking at me. I knew it wasn’t a lie. The waver in his voice came from his own belief in himself. “I’ll make you a promise,” I told him. “If you try not to run, if you try to come to me more often, on the occasions you just can’t do it, I’ll come find you, alright? If you run, I’ll follow.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. And it was then that I realized no one had followed him before. I now had to wonder how many times he had run away hoping that someone would stop him, just waiting around the corner only to be left out in the cold. Holding him tighter, I rocked him back and forth. “I’ll always follow you,” I vowed to him. Ducking his head down, he pressed it against my stomach, his tears wetting my tunic. I didn’t know how long we sat there. My legs went numb eventually and Milo’s tears began to dry. Malcolm came into view though. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Let’s get the two of you up and to the sofa,” he whispered. “I made you both tea.” Milo curled closer, as if he was reluctant to move from my embrace. Not that I blamed him. I was afraid that the second I let him go, I would disappear again. But slowly, Malcolm helped untangle him, looping an arm around me to help me to the couch as pins and needles filled my leg. After Malcolm got us settled, he handed both of us a mug, encouraging us to take deep sips. The gramophone came on in the background, filling the room with a soft melody. The crackle and pop of the record tickled against me as a slow bluesy tune filled the living room. I looked over at Milo, seeing his eyes close as he swayed a little to the song. [[Malcolm, could you give us a moment]] [[Malcolm, pour yourself some tea too]] “We have to move forward,” I told him. “No more of this from either of us. The past is there and it is unchangeable. But we can change the future.” “But everything that was done–” “We can be two things at once, Milo. You understand that, right? We can be hurt and still love. We can make mistakes and deal with the consequences. We can cause more problems than we ever intended to. You and I both did that. We both went forward with the information we had. We both made decisions that cost us. And we were both played.” “It doesn’t excuse what I did,” his voice cracked. “I’m not excusing you. No one is. But what I’m trying to tell you is you can be an instigator to the problem and you can also be hurt by it as well. It’s what you do after that matters more to me. You’ve been trying, Milo. Trying to fix this world. From the second I came down here, that was your goal. Love just got in the way.” He laughed bitterly. “The irony.” “Yes, the irony.” I didn’t know how long we sat there. I was poised at the edge of the sofa still while Milo was on the floor. He looked boneless. Like he couldn't summon the energy to stand. I felt the same down to the pit of my soul. It wasn't until Malcolm appeared that either of us moved. “Come on” he whispered. “I made you both tea.” Milo reluctuantely rose from the floor, groaning slightly as his joints popped. I felt a tinge of pain, as if it were my own, and scooted back uncomfortably on the sofa. He came to sit beside me, but still kept space between us. I caught his gaze as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He was still so uncertain. After Malcolm got us settled, he handed both of us a mug, encouraging us to take deep sips. The gramophone came on in the background, filling the room with a soft melody. The crackle and pop of the record tickled against me as a slow bluesy tune filled the living room. I looked over at Milo, seeing his eyes close as he swayed a little to the song. [[Malcolm, could you give us a moment]] [[Malcolm, pour yourself some tea too]] “You can’t do this again,” I whispered to him. “Ever.” “I won’t,” he gasped, clinging to my words like they were his only lifeline. “I promise, I won’t.” “You have to stop running from me, alright? You have to start trusting me.” Somehow, that was a harder pill to swallow. Because Milo had always run. From his friends. His family. Each problem he had. This was the first time he had to be confronted with it all. “I’ll try,” he finally whispered, not quite looking at me. I knew it wasn’t a lie. The waver in his voice came from his own belief in himself. “I’ll make you a promise,” I told him. “If you try not to run, if you try to come to me more often, on the occasions you just can’t do it, I’ll come find you, alright? If you run, I’ll follow.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. And it was then that I realized no one had followed him before. I now had to wonder how many times he had run away hoping that someone would stop him, just waiting around the corner only to be left out in the cold. I didn’t know how long we sat there. I was poised at the edge of the sofa still while Milo was on the floor. He looked boneless. Like he couldn't summon the energy to stand. I felt the same down to the pit of my soul. It wasn't until Malcolm appeared that either of us moved. “Come on” he whispered. “I made you both tea.” Milo reluctuantely rose from the floor, groaning slightly as his joints popped. I felt a tinge of pain, as if it were my own, and scooted back uncomfortably on the sofa. He came to sit beside me, but still kept space between us. I caught his gaze as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He was still so uncertain. After Malcolm got us settled, he handed both of us a mug, encouraging us to take deep sips. The gramophone came on in the background, filling the room with a soft melody. The crackle and pop of the record tickled against me as a slow bluesy tune filled the living room. I looked over at Milo, seeing his eyes close as he swayed a little to the song. [[Malcolm, could you give us a moment]] [[Malcolm, pour yourself some tea too]] “Hey, Mal, could you give Milo and I a moment?” Malcolm gave me a look that asked if I was sure. I nodded my head slightly, watching as Milo began twitching next to me. He didn’t want to be left alone with me. And I didn’t think Malcolm wanted to leave us alone together. “I’ll be in the other room,” Malcolm said slowly. He gave Milo a look that clearly told him not to fuck it up. We were left in an awkward sort of silence with only the gramophone clicking in the background. “Are you staying here tonight?” Milo asked after a moment. His voice had a different cadence to it. Like he was trying hard to just keep himself still and focus on the stitching on his trousers. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I was just coming down for tea.” A moment that now felt so far away. “Sorry for the emotional confrontation. Should have brought whisky for it.” Milo swallowed his tea like it was a shot, rubbing at his eyes. “I feel awkward,” he spat out. “I don’t know what to do now.” [[Rest|Rest 2]] [[Talk to me]] [[Dance with me|Dance with me 2]] “Pour yourself some tea, too,” I told Malcolm. We were in his house having mental breakdowns, the least he could do was hydrate. Malcolm ended up settling on the chair next to the sofa, his feet kicking up to rest on the cushion beside me. I could feel the heat of Milo’s body on the other side of me as he dutifully drank his tea, his nose curling at the taste. “You two okay?” Malcolm asked, voice hushed and soothing. Malcolm had stayed in the kitchen the entire conversation, making himself disappear until he was needed. Then he swooped in, taking care of the two of us when we couldn’t push any further. I glanced at Milo, seeing the deep circles beneath his eyes and the sallowness of his skin. But, the weight had been lifted. For the first time since coming back, I could see that there was a certain amount of pressure he had finally released. “We will be.” I caught Milo’s eye, trying to give him a soft smile. It was one he didn’t return, but his hand hesitantly reached out to settle near mine. He sought out the proximity of me, just needing the reassurance that this was all really happening. “Are you staying here tonight?” Milo asked after a moment. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I was just coming down for tea.” A moment that now felt so far away. “Sorry for the emotional confrontation. Should have brought whisky for it.” “No whisky in my house,” Malcolm told him. “You get weird on whisky.” I snorted, remembering Milo dancing on a table in an old derelict bar, singing karaoke to a group of ferrets. And by ferrets, I mean completely normal individuals who he was someone convinced were ferrets in disguise. “He’s not wrong.” Milo swallowed his tea like it was a shot, rubbing at his eyes. “I feel awkward,” he spat out. “I don’t know what to do now.” [[Rest]] [[Talk to us]] [[Dance with me]]“Rest,” I told him. From across the way, Malcolm eyed the both of us. “Both of you need to. You’re looking haggard.” “Thanks, Mal. Way to make a girl feel special.” There was very little vitriol behind Milo’s words as he leaned back on the couch, stretching his legs out. His eyes were already fluttering closed. Malcolm stood from his seat, grabbing Milo’s teacup before it could fall to the ground, then grabbing mine as well. “You can either sleep out here or take my bed,” he offered. “I’m not giving it to him.” I was exhausted. Bone tired. But my mind was still racing. There was so much that had happened today. Every inch of me felt battered and bruised and I didn’t know how I was supposed to muster the strength to do it all over again tomorrow. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay up and listen to the music,” I told him. The soft sounds emitting from the gramophone was a strange comfort I wasn’t willing to part with. Malcolm smiled, walking over to a large steamer trunk and popping it open. He pulled out a few blankets from there. All of them looking hand sewn. “Here,” he told me, holding out a patchwork quilt. “I’ll sit with you if you want. Given that that one is already snoring.” Milo’s breath was coming in a rattled wheeze, his head tipped back at an odd angle, mouth hanging open. I took one of the blankets from Malcolm, tucking it around Milo and watching as he turned and snuggled down into the side of the couch. “More tea?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah,” I breathed. And as the gramophone played, and Milo snored, I listened to the sound of my former Gatekeeper in the kitchen, rummaging around and taking care of me despite being relieved from his duties. It finally made me feel as if I could safely rest. [[Chapter Six]]“Just talk with us,” I told him. “Exist in the same space.” Malcolm nodded. “It’ll all come in time, Button. Just breathe. You and Lamplight just put a lot out there. Time to reconnect.” Malcolm was right. I felt raw and shaky and all I wanted to do was fall back into a space where this no longer felt so painful. But, I understood Milo’s sentiment. After everything, to just sit and share tea, felt surreal. Putting his teacup aside, Milo sighed, rubbing his hands together. “I got a new end table for the distillery. Not that I’ve been living there but I did get one. No more crate as a bedside stand.” “Where are you keeping it?” I asked. I have it at the Star Sanctuary. Tucked away in a separate room that I rent for myself.” “You rent a separate room for yourself?” Malcolm asked. “Yeah.” “Why?” “So people don’t steal my stuff.” I tipped my head to the side. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense, you know.” “No, it does.” His voice was oddly passionate about it. This had been an argument he had had before and I had to keep myself from laughing as I thought of him and a stranger, fighting over Milo’s own paranoia. “At least you are at the Star Sanctuary,” Malcolm was saying. “Better than catching a disease at the Distillery.” “Why the hell does everyone have an issue with my home?” Milo asked, clearly offended. “Because rats lived there.” I could remember the scurry of little feet. Milo’s friend. “If you think he isn’t living with me at the Star Sanctuary, you have another thing coming.” Malcolm groaned. “And I’m done with this conversation,” he said. “I’m going to get ready for bed.” Next to me, Milo shifted uncomfortably. The intimacy of the end of the night, falling asleep and being vulnerable, was crashing back into him. “Shut up, Button. You both are staying. It’s late. The market is on lock down. Grab some blankets and get some sleep.” I looked at Milo. “You want to say no, don’t you? Just because it’s what he told you to do.” Milo’s lips thinned. “It’s a bad habit.” I laughed. For some reason, it came bubbling out. Maybe it was the wave of exhaustion that hit me. Or maybe it was the fact that we finally seemed to be moving forward. But my laughter spilled out, contagious, causing Milo to begin to laugh a little too, while Malcolm smirked, heading towards a large steamer trunk for extra blankets. “$name, take my room, alright?” he told me. “It’s far more comfortable than out here.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” Malcolm glanced at Milo. Things were better. They were on the way to mending. But waking up in the middle of the night to see Milo in the dark, would still hold a damaging amount of weight. Malcolm knew that. “I’ll make breakfast in the morning.” A loud snore sounded right after Malcolm spoke. Milo was fast asleep on the couch, head tipped back at an awkward angle. Malcolm just shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Definitely sleep in my room. You won’t be able to out here.” I looked at him with gratitude. My Gatekeeper. “Goodnight, Malcolm.” “Sleep well, Lamplight.” [[Chapter Six]] There was something calm about Malcolm’s home. A softness that moved in the air. Standing, I leaned forward, grabbing Milo’s cup and setting it aside. Then, holding out my hand, I raised a brow to him. “Dance with me.” He glanced down, knowing that if he took my hand, it would mean so much more. This wasn’t just a dance. It was forgiveness. Understanding. A promise for both of us to do better and be by each other’s side. The decision was heavy and if it was betrayed after tonight, there would be no more forgiveness. His hand folded within mine as I pulled him to his feet. Ever so slowly, I led him to the otherside of the room, in front of the enchanted windows that had dipped downwards into a pink sunset. I felt his hands settle hesitantly upon me, one at my waist and one clasped in my own. He shook, still not believing that he was allowed to be here once again. Slowly our feet began to move, carrying us back and forth to the sway of the music crackling from the old turntable. Milo pulled me close, hand sliding to the small of my back as we were pressed together. The rapid beat of his heart thudded against mine as we moved and dipped, the two of us silently vowing to start over once again. Everything else faded away at that moment. Gone were the promises that had been broken and the moments of uncertainty. Fading away was a bloody night that had changed the course of our entire world. Our decisions, our very soul, had to be washed clean. To be mended. And while we were still battered and bruised we were agreeing to treat each other with a gentle hand, molding forgiveness into our hearts until we were left with something new. It all bloomed between us as we swayed gently, breathing against each other. As we held each other close, I spied Malcolm out of the corner of my eye. He was sitting in a chair, a small smile on his face as he listened to music. I felt my heart skip. Because for once, for the first time in a long while, I felt safe. With both of my Gatekeepers by my side, I finally felt my body begin to calm. [[Chapter Six]] Lucinda had been right. Nearly every access I knew to get down to the beach, or even to Gabriel’s house, had been blocked. Velvet Guard stood at the ready, all of them keeping an eye out for their Warden. I watched as they deter groups of marketeers, making them take long detours to their homes. Check points had been set up along the way as well, guard members running a small runic token over individual’s hands, as if looking for something. I avoided most of them on my journey, trying my hardest to get to somewhere where they were not. But in the end, I was left with no course, no route. And the longer Gabriel was out there alone, the further he was going to fall. There was a man made barricade set up in the only open alley leading towards the beach. Several large guards were placed outside of it, magic flickering in runic lines in the broken cobblestones and their swords placed over their right shoulder. “Hello?” I tried. They were staring straight forward but I could see the stress tightening at the corners of their eyes. Two of them had blood dripping from the sleeves of their jackets, pooling beneath their polished boots. Upon closer inspection, I could see the torn clothes. The dirty blades. The bruised knuckles. “We’re sorry. By order of the Velvet Guard, the road is closed.” I tried to look past them. Towards the long line of non descript road ahead. “I can see that,” I said. “Why?” “Irrelevant,” another one said. “Move along.” I squashed down my irritation. The inability to answer such a simple question was beyond them at the moment. There was a caveat to being part of the Velvet Guard. Whoever deemed themselves the protector of the market, seemed to have any sort of common sense sucked out of them. It was a failing and one that I was going to take responsibility for. Mainly because I didn’t think that anyone else would. “I’m here to see Gabriel Caine,” I told them. “I’m a friend of his.” None of them spoke.. “The Warden is expecting me,” I lied. Still nothing. As if on the wind, panic began to wind around me. <<if $hazelbreak == "true">>Something was going on and Gabriel didn’t have the capability of handling it. The last time I saw him he looked haggard at best. And while I wasn’t sure what it was I expected to do, I felt the jolt in the pit of my stomach. The one said someone needed to be saved. <<elseif $gabrielbreak == "true">> They knew. They had to know what had happened. There was blood on their Warden’s hands and I wasn’t sure how far the Guard was going to go to protect him from any sort of consequences. Or if Gabriel had even come forward for confession. There was a part of me that expected him to be in the jail cells, having locked himself away.<</if>> “That seems doubtful,” one of them said. I snapped my eyes towards them. It was a guard I had seen a few times before. In fact, he looked to be one of the only guards I had actually witnessed inside Kimbers shop. His name started with an R. Kimber had mentioned it a few times while she looked at him with doe eyes. “Richie, right?” I asked. He glanced towards me, the other officers shifting uncomfortably. “Look, I just need to go see the Warden. I–” “The Warden is disposed of, at the moment.” It was the tall one. He seemed to be the leader of some sort. I vaguely recognized him from when I had first arrived to the Market. “Move along.” “Listen, I–” “Can I escort you back to Artisan Alley?” It was Richie. He took a step forward, past the ire of his commanding officer. “Get you back to Kimbers? That’s where you live, right?” I remembered him now. The one that had stood by Gabriel’s side just yesterday. He knew who I was. Had more respect for me than most. “That would be nice, yes.” [[Next|Chapter Five 6]] I watched as Reese got into position on the bed, maneuvering himself behind Gabriel. His arms wrapped around the other man's chest in a tight band while both his legs came up to hook across Gabriel’s hips in case he decided to kick out. With his free arm, he brought it up, bringing his son into a makeshift headlock. Meanwhile, Gabriel remained limp, unaware of his surroundings. “Alright, tip it into his mouth. Try to make sure he doesn’t spit it out.” “How do I do that?” He looked at me with clear irritation. “Improvise.” With the teacup in hand, I knelt on the bed by Gabriel’s side. His mouth was parted in sleep, making it easier to tip the cup to his lips. But the second I got into position and the brew hit his tongue, his eyes flashed open. “Fuck!” The sound of Reese’s shoulder popping echoed through the room as Gabriel bucked upwards, trying to break the hold he was within. His eyes were two bright orbs of silver, blinding me as I shoved the teacup back at him. A low growl resonated from his chest and I could feel the way he pushed against Reese’s hold. “Get it in him!” Reese was shouting. I could feel part of the brew splash down upon my hand. Gabriel was thrashing. Twisting his body to and fro, gnashing his teeth. The teacup cracked as he bit down, splitting his lip and sending inky blood down across his chin. I did not stop though. With my free hand, I reached up, running my fingers down his throat and forcing him to swallow. I could feel each vein that bulged from his neck, threatening to burst. I could feel the way his throat worked convulsively as he jerked upon the bed, trying to get away. I was only thankful that I couldn’t see his eyes. That the light was too bright. Because I didn’t think I could take seeing the murderous glint that was surely there. “Little more,” I muttered, tipping the last of the tea into his mouth. “There!” But he still thrashed. He had gotten a hand loose and was dragging it across Reese’s arm, shredding it until it was just strips of bloody flesh. “Why isn’t it working?” I called out. “Give it a minute,” Reese said through clenched teeth. Sweat broke out on both of their temples as Gabriel howled loudly, a wild animal caught in a trap. And then as if nothing happened, his body went limp. He was asleep once more, shirt soaked in tea. My heart was hammering against my chest as I looked down t the bed. Reese was slowly letting him go, disentangling himself. “Was it enough?” As Reese climbed out of bed, he looked down at his son. I could see it then. The raw pain in his eyes. No one should have to watch their child go through something like this. No matter their age. “For now,” he whispered. He didn’t say another word. Didn’t even look at me. He just left the room, leaving me alone with Gabriel. The blankets were thrashed. The room smelled of something burnt. But outside, the babbling brooke sounded along with the slow motion turn of the water wheel. Swiping a hand across my face, I stumbled backwards until I hit the wall, inexplicably tired. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I would wait though. Wait until Gabriel woke. Or until something happened at least. I didn’t want to leave him. While this was his home, his old room, the thought of him waking alone sent a bolt of agony through me. It was like being stabbed all over again. Settling down on the nearest chair, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. It was going to be a very long night. [[Next|Gabriel End]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> I would wait though. Wait until Gabriel woke. Or until Belladonna came storming through that door. At the moment, it was what I wished for most. I didn’t want to go through this alone. Yet, I knew I couldn’t leave him. While this was his home, his old room, the thought of him waking alone sent a bolt of agony through me. It was like being stabbed all over again. Settling down on the nearest chair, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. It was going to be a very long night. [[Next|Gabriel End]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> I needed to get back to Malcolm. After everything that had happened at his mothers, I knew that I needed to touch base with him again. And there was still the issue of Milo. The breakdown that had proceeded seeing the Fates still lingered. Pushing away from the wall, I took one last look at Gabriel. Reese would take care of him. I had to have faith in that. Right now, I needed to find my Gatekeepers. [[Next|Milo/Mal end]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> I needed to go back to Malcolm. To figure out what we were going to do about Hazel. Despite the death, despite what I now knew Gabriel was capable of, my heart still feared for Hazel the most. In the midst of Lucinda’s clutches, she would break. But how did I tell her that this was wrong? That she needed to stay away from her mother? Pushing away from the wall, I tried to gather the courage to continue down this road. Because at the end of it, Hazel would be in my arms. As I glanced at Gabriel, I knew Reese would take care of him. I only hoped that Gabriel’s mind stayed in tact long enough to receive the help. [[Next|Hazel end]]<<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> I needed to find Belladonna. The note that Reese had received was short and uncaring. While I knew Belladonna was only stating her urgency, it felt odd that she was not here. Especially knowing that it was where I would most likely end up. There was something off about her, as of late. Something she was once again hiding. Naively, I had thought we were past all of that. Though I supposed with a woman like Bella, there was always going to be some secrecy. With a sigh, I glanced at Gabriel. I could spare a few more hours. Maybe sit in the living room until Reese assured me that he was not about to jump from his bed and go on another murderous spree through the Night Market. Then I’d find Bella. I’d find my girl. [[Next|Belladonna end]] <</if>> I swallowed thickly, feeling my hands shake. We were beyond help at the moment. Reese could not hide him forever. The guard was hunting for him and they were going to find the bodies on that beach. And when they came for him, what were we supposed to do? “Reese, he killed a lot of people,” I said, my tongue feeling numb. My body felt as if it were slipping away. Death was no stranger to me given that Pen was my best friend. But, this was far more than I had seen in a long while. Perhaps ever. Because when the death toll mounted, Pen had always had me turn away. “Let’s get one thing clear,” Reese said, Gabriel still slung over his shoulder. “No he didn’t. He didn’t kill anyone, in fact. You saw nothing.” <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">>“I have a wound in my side to say otherwise.” “Good for fucking you. Now hide it. And if the guard comes to that door, you don’t say a damn word. Got it? Night Market or not, I’ll rip out your tongue if you put my boy in danger. Now brew the fucking tea.” <<elseif $hazelbreak == "true">>"Just because I didn't see it doesn't mean it didn't happen. There were witnesses." "Good for them. And when the guard comes to their door, if they dare say anything, I'll rip out their tongue. Now brew the fucking tea."<</if>> The door to the bedroom slammed shut as Reese went inside, leaving me in the derelict kitchen, just staring after him. I found the tin canister in the back of the cabinet, covered in a layer of dust. The hinge was rusted and opened with a squeak, spitting out bits of debris from the unused joints. Inside, was small silver pebbles that resembled bits of resin. They hummed as they rolled around in the box. “Grace,” I murmured. I knew it without question. These were little bits of grace that Reese had sequestered away. It was illegal to have unsanctioned grace in your possession. It was a rare commodity and an item in which many had killed over. Swallowing, I placed the old cast iron kettle on the stove, beginning to boil water. I could hear murmuring from the other room but didn’t know if it was simply Reese speaking to Gabriel, or if Gabriel had risen himself. I held my breath, hoping that no commotion followed, and instead looked around the room. The kitchen was cluttered, filled to the brink with empty bottles and old dishes. <<if $gabrielro == "true">> I remembered the night Reese had cooked for Gabriel and I. He had been immaculate. The space he lived in was a far cry from the dish he had prepared.<</if>> When the kettle brewed, I dropped one of the pearls of grace into a boiling cup before pouring the water over it. The water turned silver with an oil slick top. It smelled foul and was certainly not what I expected something celestial to taste. I simply hoped, however, it would stave off the worst of the symptoms. Knocking on the door before I slipped inside, I spotted Reese standing by the bed. Silently, I handed him the tea. “We’re gonna have to hold him down. He’ll naturally fight us on this. Do you want to be a part of this?” I glanced at the man on the bed. He looked so peaceful suddenly. So distant from the man that had torn flesh with his bare hands. “What does the tea do?” Reese was already moving to Gabriel’s bedside, clearing away any objects within the man's reach. “Helps ease some of the more violent urges that the madness brings. It’ll wear off after a bit but it’ll help give him a chance to rest.” “He looks as if he’s resting now.” “That’s because I knocked him out with a lightning bolt.” Looking over his shoulder, he gave me an impatient glance. “You can either help, or leave the room.” “No, I’ll help,” I said quickly. “I’ll help.” “Good. I’ll hold him down. You put it in his mouth.” [[Next|Tea]] “I’m trying not to have an opinion of her just yet. The verdict is still out.” He tipped his head to the side, eyes flickering from gold to red. “Interesting. Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Because I’ve fallen trap several dozen times now, into believing what everyone else did, only for it to bite me in the end.” Lucinda was most likely the villain. She certainly didn’t do anything to make herself not seem like one. But, if I pegged her as only that, I was bound to miss something. And at this point, we couldn’t afford to miss much more. "A fair and just point. However, she's still causing you a problem, is she not?" I didn't answer him. Only just stared as he shook his head, looking down the alley and the bustling shopkeepers. Their carts were filled with goods. Individuals were moving in and out and trying to start their lives again after hardship. This was a good thing. It had to be a good thing. But I couldn’t help but fear for every single soul within that alley. “Do you want to do something about all of this?” he asked. “The things happening in the apothecary. Possibly that alley.” “Of course I do,” I said. “Good.” He clapped his hands together, the sound briefly dousing the candlelight around us. I turned to the man, staring at him through the darkness. He was grinning, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s make a deal.” The candles burst into a bright light and the noise filtering in from the alley resumed. I hadn’t even realized it had gone quiet. Next to me, the flash of golden eyes swirled far too close for comfort. “I don’t think demons are allowed in the Night Market,” I said, my throat dry. It was some sort of innate knowledge that I had. Vaguely I remembered the problems we had had with their kind at one point. The door to hell was sealed. “We’re not,” he said with a nod. “Yet, that’s the funny thing about demons. We don’t often listen to the rules.” “So you are a demon.” “I didn’t say that.” “You said we.” He grinned. The blood was still on his clothes but his horn was beginning to grow back. “Look, you have a problem, I would like to offer my services. In a place like this, it may be necessary.” [[Why]] [[What does a deal consist of?]] [[How did you even get here?]] Due to some stray coding issues and a twine update that caused some problems, please repick your choices before you play. Any reports for this game will need to come through discord or Patreon. Please do not send them through Tumblr because I cannot answer them during early access. [[Chapter Six Choices]]“I did what I had to,” I told Malcolm. Being around Milo hurt. It felt like a reminder of my biggest mistake. Of pain that wasn’t dulling no matter the passage of time. I couldn’t look at him without being reminded of that night. Of what he did. For my own sanity, I needed to say the words out loud. To end it. “You don’t have to justify your actions to me,” Malcolm said, staring at me from over the rim of his teacup. “I can’t see it on your face, though. You don’t agree with what I just did.” Setting his cup aside, he took a deep breath. “He was duped. It is very clear now that whatever was happening that night, was a plan put into place long long ago and he got tangled into it without consent. A lot of what happened was without his consent, in fact. And let me be clear, it doesn’t excuse him for not telling us, but he did believe that people would die. And he had to make the choice of what to do. Be honest with you and lose you, or, continue to do what he was told, and save everyone else. Either way, he was always bound to lose you.” “I get that but the pain is still there.” “I’m not negating that pian.Seeing the man you love stab you. Not knowing what was happening. Feeling that betrayal. All of it is an insurmountable amount of trauma that can suffocate a person. I do not blame you for breaking up with him because you may never be able to look at him the same way again. And that’s okay.” “But?” “But it’s time to also acknowledge that while he hurt you, he was hurt as well. That you are both pawns in something terrible. And you do not have to be with him. You certainly don’t need to pretend like what he did wasn’t something that hurt you beyond repair. But, you do need to take the steps to be able to move past it. To work with your Gatekeeper. You need to both heal. You just don't need to heal together.” I stopped, staring down at my own teacup, feeling the burn on my palms. Malcolm’s stare was unwavering as he let the silence speak for itself. He was good at that. He had spent a lot of years talking to the lanterns, hearing nothing in return. But the silence always spoke. “I don’t know what to say to that,” I said. He nodded, accepting the answer. “You can be two things at once you know. You can be hurt and you can also be the instigator. And in this situation, you and Milo are both of those. You made a decision to come down here, to erase your memories and not know what was happening, and now you are reaping the consequences. A decision was made out of context and now we are in the aftermath. Milo also made a decision out of context. He also didn’t have all the information. At the end of the day, we are all doing the best we can.” “People died with Milo’s best.” “And people have died with yours too,” he said gently. “You just don’t always see it.” [[Who have I killed?]] [[I try to save everyone]] [[I understand]] “Do you disagree with me?” I couldn’t help the irritation that was in my voice. I did nothing wrong and yet Malcolm looked as if he was about ten seconds from chastising me. “It doesn’t matter if I do or not. That is not my relationship,” he told me. “Don’t look to others for validation on your love life. That is a slippery slope. Believe me, I know.” “You love him,” I accused. Though, I wasn’t sure what the accusation was intended for. Was I made because I thought he was going to take Milo’s side over mine? Or was I mad because he didn’t seem to fight for me the same way. I shook my head, wondering where that thought came from. “I do love him,” Malcolm said with a simple nod. “But we’re not talking about me right now. What you and Milo have going on has nothing to do with my feelings.” “Doesn’t it?” “It shouldn’t.” “It might.” He laughed a little. “That, is an entirely different conversation.” Setting his cup aside, he took a deep breath. “He was duped. It is very clear now that whatever was happening that night, was a plan put into place long long ago and he got tangled into it without consent. A lot of what happened was without his consent, in fact. And let me be clear, it doesn’t excuse him for not telling us, but he did believe that people would die. And he had to make the choice of what to do. Be honest with you and lose you, or, continue to do what he was told, and save everyone else. Either way, he was always bound to lose you.” “I get that but the pain is still there.” “I’m not negating that pian.Seeing the man you love stab you. Not knowing what was happening. Feeling that betrayal. All of it is an insurmountable amount of trauma that can suffocate a person. I do not blame you for breaking up with him because you may never be able to look at him the same way again. And that’s okay.” “But?” “But it’s time to also acknowledge that while he hurt you, he was hurt as well. That you are both pawns in something terrible. And you do not have to be with him. You certainly don’t need to pretend like what he did wasn’t something that hurt you beyond repair. But, you do need to take the steps to be able to move past it. To work with your Gatekeeper. You need to both heal. You just don't need to heal together.” I stopped, staring down at my own teacup, feeling the burn on my palms. Malcolm’s stare was unwavering as he let the silence speak for itself. He was good at that. He had spent a lot of years talking to the lanterns, hearing nothing in return. But the silence always spoke. “I don’t know what to say to that,” I said. He nodded, accepting the answer. “You can be two things at once you know. You can be hurt and you can also be the instigator. And in this situation, you and Milo are both of those. You made a decision to come down here, to erase your memories and not know what was happening, and now you are reaping the consequences. A decision was made out of context and now we are in the aftermath. Milo also made a decision out of context. He also didn’t have all the information. At the end of the day, we are all doing the best we can.” “People died with Milo’s best.” “And people have died with yours too,” he said gently. “You just don’t always see it.” [[Who have I killed?]] [[I try to save everyone]] [[I understand]] “Will you just say what’s on your mind? It’s going to be easier if you do that.” He passed me a cup of tea, the steam curling upwards and filing the room with the rich scent of lavender and bergamot. “Why does my opinion matter? I’m genuinely curious.” “I just want to get everything out on the table,” I told him. “There’s been a lot of keeping everything inside.” “Fair.” He poured himself his own cup of tea, adding a few drops of dark inky liquid from a separate bottle. Taking a sip, he sat gathering his thoughts and words, letting the silence in the room linger. Only the brief whir of the enchanted windows sounded within the room. Curling his feet under him, he rested his elbows on the table. “My honest opinion on all of it is complicated. Because I will never be one to tell someone if they should or should not be with a person. That is a personal matter. But, I do think that there are some things within what the two of you said that should be addressed. But I’m not sure how you’ll take them and I do not want to push you past whatever point you are ready to acknowledge.” “I’m listening, Malcolm. I’m not going anywhere.” Setting his cup aside, he took a deep breath. “He was duped. It is very clear now that whatever was happening that night, was a plan put into place long long ago and he got tangled into it without consent. A lot of what happened was without his consent, in fact. And let me be clear, it doesn’t excuse him for not telling us, but he did believe that people would die. And he had to make the choice of what to do. Be honest with you and lose you, or, continue to do what he was told, and save everyone else. Either way, he was always bound to lose you.” “I get that but the pain is still there.” “I’m not negating that pian.Seeing the man you love stab you. Not knowing what was happening. Feeling that betrayal. All of it is an insurmountable amount of trauma that can suffocate a person. I do not blame you for breaking up with him because you may never be able to look at him the same way again. And that’s okay.” “But?” “But it’s time to also acknowledge that while he hurt you, he was hurt as well. That you are both pawns in something terrible. And you do not have to be with him. You certainly don’t need to pretend like what he did wasn’t something that hurt you beyond repair. But, you do need to take the steps to be able to move past it. To work with your Gatekeeper. You need to both heal. You just don't need to heal together.” I stopped, staring down at my own teacup, feeling the burn on my palms. Malcolm’s stare was unwavering as he let the silence speak for itself. He was good at that. He had spent a lot of years talking to the lanterns, hearing nothing in return. But the silence always spoke. “I don’t know what to say to that,” I said. He nodded, accepting the answer. “You can be two things at once you know. You can be hurt and you can also be the instigator. And in this situation, you and Milo are both of those. You made a decision to come down here, to erase your memories and not know what was happening, and now you are reaping the consequences. A decision was made out of context and now we are in the aftermath. Milo also made a decision out of context. He also didn’t have all the information. At the end of the day, we are all doing the best we can.” “People died with Milo’s best.” “And people have died with yours too,” he said gently. “You just don’t always see it.” [[Who have I killed?]] [[I try to save everyone]] [[I understand]] “Who have I killed?” I demanded. I had never gone out there and murdered someone in cold blood. Not that I recalled. It was a baseless accusation and I felt my ire rising from it. “Plenty,” he responded. “Intentionally or unintentionally, you be the judge. You are a living realm. You cannot tell me there has never been a mistake in your history.” “I don’t know, Malcolm! I can’t remember!” “Lamplight,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “I’m not trying to start an argument with you. I’m sorry it’s coming off this way. What I’m trying to drive home is that mistakes are part of the experience of living. It is something we cannot run from. It’s how we respond afterwards that matters. Because you are going to make mistakes in this life. And some of them are going to be catastrophic fuck ups, given who we all are. Just try not to look at life with such anger. That’s not like you.” The heart of the market. That’s what I was supposed to be. The compassionate one. The one with the drive to live. The one whose very heart had been broken. “It hurts,” I whispered. Swallowing, I leaned my head back against the sofa, closing my eyes. “So what are you really asking me then, Malcolm?” “Do you want to break up with Milo? Or are you still just reeling from the onslaught of bullshit that has rained down on you?” [[Yes, breakup with Milo]] [[No, don't breakup with Milo]]“That’s not fair. I try to save everyone. I ripped myself open to bring dying worlds here safely. This entire thing started because I apparently care too much!” The words hit me hard. All of this had happened because I kept ripping myself open time and time again, making myself weaker, killing myself, for the sake of others. And what had it gotten me? A world too full of the ones I saved that my own body was rebelling, locking people off, and leaving them to die to reset the balance. Malcolm reached out, taking my hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it’s not what you want to hear.” “I just…” I shook my head. “It’s all so complicated.” “Yeah. Living is like that,” he told me with a soft smile. “Lamplight, the point of all of this is not to make you feel bad, though it looks like I didn’t quite succeed there. But the point is supposed to be, that this is not black and white. Nothing is cut and dry. And forgiveness, working through mistakes, does far more than holding grudges.” Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the couch. “So,” he continued. “Let’s lay it to rest once and for all. Do you want to break up with Milo? Or are you still just reeling from the onslaught of bullshit that has rained down on you?” [[Yes, breakup with Milo]] [[No, don't breakup with Milo]] I felt the injustice of it all consume me. I was angry. I realized now that I was far angrier than I had let on. Because I had loved Milo and look what he had done. What it came down to in the end of it all, was that he hadn’t loved me as much as I loved him. And that was a bitter hurt to swallow. Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the couch. “I understand,” I said simply. “I know it’s not what you wnat to hear.” “No. But I do understand where you’re coming from. I’ll understand it more as time goes on.” “So, do you still want to end things with Milo?” [[Yes, breakup with Milo]] [[No, don't breakup with Milo]] “Yes,” I said with certainty. “I don’t love him. Not after that.” Standing, Malcolm walked over to where I was sitting, lowering himself down next to me. “Then you made the right decision today. And now we move forward and figure out how to get the lights back on.” “Why doesn’t it feel as easy as that?” “Because it’s not. But we’re going to do it anyway.” Kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, he leaned back. “Now, how about we listen to music tonight. Drink some tea. Because after a day like today, all I want to do is curl up on the sofa with you.” I settled back into the sofa, letting my body rest. There was a click to my right as a crackle of static filled the room. Soft music began to swirl around us, filling the living room with such warmth. Rolling my head, I turned and looked at the gramophone, the music pouring out of it in a soft melody. “How’d you turn it on?” I asked. “It’s on a timer. Secretly, there comes a point in the night where I’m very lazy and I don’t want to get back up. I put an enchantment on that things years ago so it would play this time every night. That way I didn’t come home to a quiet house. Or, I had something on in the background when I was not able to move off the couch again.” The gramophone spun on its own, the occasional bit of dust falling to the floor. I wondered if it had even played when he was gone. A beautiful song singing in an empty room. “So this is what you do with your evenings?’ “More or less. I’m not a huge going out kind of person. I’d rather be home at night given that I am out on the streets all day. Or I was.” “When you were the Gatekeeper.” “Yeah.” There was an air of disappointment to it. As if he was speaking of a time he once loved and could no longer touch. “Listen to this part,’ he whispered. “I haven’t heard this song for years.” With his eyes closed, he laid his head back against the edge of the couch, tipped towards the ceiling. As the music spread, I watched him sigh. An old bluesy rhythm that spoke to his soul. I sat with him that night. Listening. Existing with him. It felt like old times again. Like when we had been Gatekeeper and Lamplight. When the knock came on the door, the two of us were startled. I had dozed off, the record merely just clicking in the background now, my head resting against his shoulder. Blinking, Malcolm looked around as I shifted away from him. The knock sounded again. Rising, Malcolm walked to the door, looking through a small rune before opening it. A fluttering pixie with a small purple messenger cap fluttered in front of him. “Message, sir!” Malcolm wiped at his eyes, ridding himself of sleep. “Thanks,” He murmured as they dropped a scroll into his hand.s They zipped off before he could even shut the door. Malcolm frowned as he looked at it before tossing it to me. “What is it?” “Don’t know. Was addressed to you though.” I unraveled the letter, looking down. “It’s from Belladonna.” With a yawn, Malcolm walked over. “What does it say?” //Get ready. You’re going to the Outlands tomorrow// I looked back up at Malcolm. Silently, I handed it to him, letting him read the words. “Here we go,” I said, watching as the color drained from his face. And yet again, there was no rest when you were a cosmic being living as a construct. [[Chapter Six]] <<set $miloro to "false">> <<set $milobreakup to "true">>“No,” I said. Milo had walked out the door and I hadn’t wanted him to. “No, I don’t want to.” Standing, Malcolm walked over to where I was sitting, lowering himself down next to me. “I’ll be here, you know. I’ll help you in any way I can.” “You’ve done enough, Mal.” “Never enough,” he whispered, tipping my teacup up so I would take a sip. “Now, enough of this. Let’s listen to music tonight. Drink some tea. Because after today, curling up on the sofa with you is kind of all I want.” I settled back into the sofa, letting my body rest. There was a click to my right as a crackle of static filled the room. Soft music began to swirl around us, filling the living room with such warmth. Rolling my head, I turned and looked at the gramophone, the music pouring out of it in a soft melody. “How’d you turn it on?” I asked. “It’s on a timer. Secretly, there comes a point in the night where I’m very lazy and I don’t want to get back up. I put an enchantment on that things years ago so it would play this time every night. That way I didn’t come home to a quiet house. Or, I had something on in the background when I was not able to move off the couch again.” The gramophone spun on its own, the occasional bit of dust falling to the floor. I wondered if it had even played when he was gone. A beautiful song singing in an empty room. “So this is what you do with your evenings?’ “More or less. I’m not a huge going out kind of person. I’d rather be home at night given that I am out on the streets all day. Or I was.” “When you were the Gatekeeper.” “Yeah.” There was an air of disappointment to it. As if he was speaking of a time he once loved and could no longer touch. “Listen to this part,’ he whispered. “I haven’t heard this song for years.” With his eyes closed, he laid his head back against the edge of the couch, tipped towards the ceiling. As the music spread, I watched him sigh. An old bluesy rhythm that spoke to his soul. I sat with him that night. Listening. Existing with him. It felt like old times again. Like when we had been Gatekeeper and Lamplight. When the knock came on the door, the two of us were startled. I had dozed off, the record merely just clicking in the background now, my head resting against his shoulder. Blinking, Malcolm looked around as I shifted away from him. The knock sounded again. Rising, Malcolm walked to the door, looking through a small rune before opening it. A fluttering pixie with a small purple messenger cap fluttered in front of him. “Message, sir!” Malcolm wiped at his eyes, ridding himself of sleep. “Thanks,” He murmured as they dropped a scroll into his hand.s They zipped off before he could even shut the door. Malcolm frowned as he looked at it before tossing it to me. “What is it?” “Don’t know. Was addressed to you though.” I unraveled the letter, looking down. “It’s from Belladonna.” With a yawn, Malcolm walked over. “What does it say?” //Get ready. You’re going to the OUtlands tomorrow// I looked back up at Malcolm. Silently, I handed it to him, letting him read the words. “Here we go,” I said, watching as the color drained from his face. And yet again, there was no rest when you were a cosmic being living as a construct. [[Chapter Six]] <<set $falsebreakup to "true">> Malcolm grabbed her by the wrist, whipping her around and pulling her back. “Knock it off,” he told her firmly. “This is not what we are doing.” She looked at him incredulously. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew the entire time what he was doing.” “You don’t even know what it was he was doing. Not everything.” “Yes, I do!” I rushed forward. If not for Milo’s safety but for her own. Harm conducted by her hands would sit with her like a nasty welt forever. The fact that she raised a hand to Milo already was going to be bad enough, but to do it again would break her in the future. For no matter how mad Hazel was, this was not who she ever wished to be. Someone that ruled with fear and demand others to see her way, was a deep seeded nightmare that I couldn’t let come to fruition. “Hazel,” I urged her. “Stop. Please, just stop. We just want to talk. If you don’t like what we have to say after, you can leave.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “I’m not a prisoner.” “No, you’re not,” I told her, trying to keep my hands where she could see them. “Not with us. We care about you, Hazel. We only want to help.” <<if $hazelro == "true">> “Help?” she scoffed. “You are nothing but a stranger that is using this umbrella of help to stalk me.” “You know that’s not true,” I whispered to her, trying not to rise to the words that were scripted by someone else. “You know deep down that I am important to you. Just as you are important to me. Please, just sit down so we can figure all this out. No one here wants to hurt you.”<</if>> I didn’t know if I would have had her before saying that last part. Maybe the entire effort was futile. But I could see the anger burning in her eyes. “No one wants to hurt me. Everyone wants to help me,” she mocked. “Then explain him.” Milo still had his back to the wall. “Hazel…” “Shut up!” she screamed. “I don’t want to hear a single thing that comes from your mouth!” Her hand raised, to hit him again, electric currents of green snapping like whips around her fingers. “Knock it off,” Malcolm told her firmly, his face close to hers. “This is not what we are doing.” She looked at him incredulously. It felt as if every time she looked at her brother, she hated him more and more. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew the entire time what he was doing.” “You don’t even know what it was he was doing. Not everything.” “Yes, I do!” She tried to pull away but Malcolm held firm, his fingers tightening around her. “No, you don’t. Do you know how I know that?” He looked back, pointing at me. “Because you don’t remember ?them. The key part in all of this. Because mom is–” The beam next to us exploded in a pile of splinters, a large crack running through the ceiling. I rushed forward. Because if this roof came down on us, then none of us were getting out. Hazel’s knees gave out from under her. Her breathing was coming so loud that she was beginning to hyperventilate and I could hear the way her heart pounded against her own chest. When she fell, Malcolm catched her. And for one instance, I saw her eyes flutter, recognition lighting them. <<if $hazelro == "true">>”$name?”<</if>> Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. The room went silent. My eyes ticked towards the sloping ceiling and the broken beam. Milo was already stepping forward, red blisters on the side of his face. Stepping up on the counter, he got a look at the crack up there, running his fingers along the edge. “It’ll hold,” he said quietly. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.” Malcolm looked back at him with Hazel still in his arms. Now that everything was settling, I could see the anger flickering across his gaze. A slow burning fire that I wasn’t used to seeing on Malcolm’s face. [[Is everyone okay?]] [[What are we going to do with her now?]] [[Lucinda knows where she is]] <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Rush towards Hazel]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Milo, are you okay?]]<</if>> I wanted to see how Milo would respond. My feet were rooted to the ground as I stared at the two of them. For the first time since the ball, they had laid eyes on each other and the miasma of mistruths and betrayal that was that night hung heavy in the air. Milo was searching her, his eyes running across her and growing more and more fearful with each passing glance. I could tell that his hands were shaking. That he didn’t know what to do in the face of Hazel’s true anger. “Hazel, I’m not here to give you an excuse,” he started. Her laugh cut through his words, causing him to flinch. There was a wide sort of manic expression to her eyes as the color slowly bled from them, leaving them flat and black. They were so much different than my own though. They were yawning pits that held no warmth or ounce of who she once was. “I wouldn’t listen to your excuses no matter what,” she told him. “You may have fooled everyone else but I know what you are now, Milo Next. You should have been erased when your father had the chance.” Her hand raised, to hit him again, electric currents of green snapping like whips around her fingers. Malcolm grabbed her by the wrist, whipping her around and pulling her back. “Knock it off,” he told her firmly. “This is not what we are doing.” She looked at him incredulously. It felt as if every time she looked at her brother, she hated him more and more. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew the entire time what he was doing.” “You don’t even know what it was he was doing. Not everything.” “Yes, I do!” She tried to pull away but Malcolm held firm, his fingers tightening around her. “No, you don’t. Do you know how I know that?” He looked back, pointing at me. “Because you don’t remember ?them. The key part in all of this. Because mom is–” The beam next to us exploded in a pile of splinters, a large crack running through the ceiling. I rushed forward. Because if this roof came down on us, then none of us were getting out. Hazel’s knees gave out from under her. Her breathing was coming so loud that she was beginning to hyperventilate and I could hear the way her heart pounded against her own chest. When she fell, Malcolm catched her. And for one instance, I saw her eyes flutter, recognition lighting them. <<if $hazelro == "true">>”$name?”<</if>> Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. The room went silent. My eyes ticked towards the sloping ceiling and the broken beam. Milo was already stepping forward, red blisters on the side of his face. Stepping up on the counter, he got a look at the crack up there, running his fingers along the edge. “It’ll hold,” he said quietly. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.” Malcolm looked back at him with Hazel still in his arms. Now that everything was settling, I could see the anger flickering across his gaze. A slow burning fire that I wasn’t used to seeing on Malcolm’s face. [[Is everyone okay?]] [[What are we going to do with her now?]] [[Lucinda knows where she is]] <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Rush towards Hazel]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Milo, are you okay?]]<</if>> When I got to my feet, I took a step back, letting Malcolm take control of this situation. This was his home. His sister. This needed to be in his hands. <<if $miloro == "true">> When I looked at Milo, I could see the fear in his eyes, but he wasn’t trying to defend himself. For a moment that I don’t think he meant, his eyes ticked to mine for help. Shame filled him immediately. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> And while Hazel was my everything, she still didn’t know me. Didn’t trust me. And I was terrified that if I pushed, I’d never see her again. <</if>> “Hazel, we can talk about this, okay? Milo can go,” Malcolm was trying to soothe. He was approaching her with his hands held up in surrender. “Go?” she laughed. “He’s not going anywhere? He’ll be paying for what he’s done.” There was a crack in her hands, the rotted shift of magic swelling through the room as she once more laid a hand on Milo. Another bolt rocking through the room and causing Milo to hiss in pain. Malcolm grabbed her by the wrist, whipping her around and pulling her back. “Knock it off,” he told her firmly. “This is not what we are doing.” She looked at him incredulously. It felt as if every time she looked at her brother, she hated him more and more. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew the entire time what he was doing.” “You don’t even know what it was he was doing. Not everything.” “Yes, I do!” She tried to pull away but Malcolm held firm, his fingers tightening around her. “No, you don’t. Do you know how I know that?” He looked back, pointing at me. “Because you don’t remember ?them. The key part in all of this. Because mom is–” The beam next to us exploded in a pile of splinters, a large crack running through the ceiling. I rushed forward. Because if this roof came down on us, then none of us were getting out. Hazel’s knees gave out from under her. Her breathing was coming so loud that she was beginning to hyperventilate and I could hear the way her heart pounded against her own chest. When she fell, Malcolm catched her. And for one instance, I saw her eyes flutter, recognition lighting them. <<if $hazelro == "true">>”$name?”<</if>> Her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp. The room went silent. My eyes ticked towards the sloping ceiling and the broken beam. Milo was already stepping forward, red blisters on the side of his face. Stepping up on the counter, he got a look at the crack up there, running his fingers along the edge. “It’ll hold,” he said quietly. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.” Malcolm looked back at him with Hazel still in his arms. Now that everything was settling, I could see the anger flickering across his gaze. A slow burning fire that I wasn’t used to seeing on Malcolm’s face. [[Is everyone okay?]] [[What are we going to do with her now?]] [[Lucinda knows where she is]] <<if $hazelro == "true">>[[Rush towards Hazel]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">>[[Milo, are you okay?]]<</if>>“Is everyone okay?” It was a blanket statement that applied to us all after that. The welts on Milo’s cheeks were bright and slightly shiny. Malcolm looked destroyed as he pushed his sister's hair from her face. The beam was shattered. The area we fell from the apothecary was scorched, and I was still shaking from adrenaline. When no one answered, I didn’t even have the heart to blame them. With Hazel in his arms, Malcolm rose. “I’m going to go put her on the pullout in my room.” The second he left, Milo turned to me. “How bad was it?” “We’re here, aren’t we?” “No, I know that but…” he glanced at the broken pillar and I was certain the side of his face was stinging. “I’ve never seen Hazel that violent.” [[Everyone has a breaking point]] [[She’s being controlled]] [[I’ve never seen Hazel like that either]] I took a deep breath, looking down at the limp body in Malcolm’s arms. “What are we going to do with her?” I asked quietly. We couldn’t take her back to Lucinda’s and the way she had just acted was a cause for far more concern than we had originally thought. Malcolm looked down at her, pushing her hair from her eyes. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “She doesn’t want to listen.” “I shouldn’t have been here,” Milo said. “I’m sorry. I was concerned about all of you and I just wanted to be here to help. I– I shouldn’t have been here,” he repeated. I could see the mile long stare in his eyes. He couldn’t even look at Hazel. With Hazel in his arms, Malcolm rose. “I’m going to go put her on the pullout in my room.” The second he left, Milo turned to me. “How bad was it?” “We’re here, aren’t we?” “No, I know that but…” he glanced at the broken pillar and I was certain the side of his face was stinging. “I’ve never seen Hazel that violent.” [[Everyone has a breaking point]] [[She’s being controlled]] [[I’ve never seen Hazel like that either]] “Lucinda knows she’s here,” I said immediately, recalling the face that had stared down at us. “She could be on her way.” There was a moment where I just assumed that Lucinda was going to kick down the door. Milo shook his head. “No, the key had a glamor on it. While it brought you three here, it made it look like you were all falling into a warehouse near the eternal bog.” With Hazel in his arms, Malcolm rose. “I’m going to go put her on the pullout in my room.” The second he left, Milo turned to me. “How bad was it?” “We’re here, aren’t we?” “No, I know that but…” he glanced at the broken pillar and I was certain the side of his face was stinging. “I’ve never seen Hazel that violent.” [[Everyone has a breaking point]] [[She’s being controlled]] [[I’ve never seen Hazel like that either]] I rushed towards Hazel and Malcolm, my knees banging to the floor. “Is she alright? Is she breathing?” Malcolm’s body was bent forward as he tried to look for something that he could tangibly blame for Hazel’s situation. “She’s breathing. She just passed out,” he whispered. I wanted to touch her. It felt unfair that I was not the one holding her in my arms. Keeping her safe. Maybe if I could then none of this would be happening. With Hazel in his arms, Malcolm rose. “I’m going to go put her on the pullout in my room.” The second he left, Milo turned to me. “How bad was it?” “We’re here, aren’t we?” “No, I know that but…” he glanced at the broken pillar and I was certain the side of his face was stinging. “I’ve never seen Hazel that violent.” [[Everyone has a breaking point]] [[She’s being controlled]] [[I’ve never seen Hazel like that either]] The wounds on Milo’s cheeks were bright. I could see the shape of Hazel’s hand and where his freckled skin was shiny with blisters. “Milo,” I took a step forward. “Are you alright?” He looked confused for a moment. Unaware of what I was even asking. When it dawned on him, I could see the flicker in his eyes and the way his fingers twitched towards his cheek. His eyes dipped away from me as he cleared his throat. “Golden,” he said, voice slightly gruff. “Seriously though, don’t worry. I’ve had worse.” “That’s not what I–” With Hazel in his arms, Malcolm rose. “I’m going to go put her on the pullout in my room.” The second he left, Milo turned to me. “How bad was it?” “We’re here, aren’t we?” “No, I know that but…” he glanced at the broken pillar and I was certain the side of his face was stinging. “I’ve never seen Hazel that violent.” [[Everyone has a breaking point]] [[She’s being controlled]] [[I’ve never seen Hazel like that either]] “Everyone has a breaking point,” I said sadly. Even the sweetest of souls had a threshold for what they could take. And I think we had finally reached Hazel’s. The door to Malcolm’s bedroom opened as Malcolm came walking back through, sans Hazel. On instinct, Milo went up to him, moving to hug him after seeing his sister break like that. Malcolm shoved him away. “Why didn’t you protect her,” he hissed. Milo stumbled back, hitting the back of the couch. For a moment, I was frozen. Because just like Hazel, Malcolm was stalking forward. Eyes intent on his prey. “Why didn’t you protect any of them?” Milo sucked in a breath. “Mal, I was trying to protect Hazel. I really was.” “Were you? Because she’s passed out in the room back there with black stained fingers, her entire soul embroiled in old magic. The very kind we vowed to keep her away from. So where the fuck were you, Milo, huh? What was the point of giving you any of this power if you were going to waste it.” “I didn’t want it,” Milo protested. “And I still tried. She’s my sister, too, man.” “That’s right. I forget that you treat your family like shit.” [[Malcolm, that was uncalled for]] [[Milo, maybe you should leave]] [[How is Hazel doing?]] “She’s being controlled,” I told Milo. “If we were unsure about it before, we shouldn’t be now. That was not Hazel.” Milo breathed deeply. “No, I know. I get it. Didn’t think it could get that bad, though.” The door to Malcolm’s bedroom opened as Malcolm came walking back through, sans Hazel. On instinct, Milo went up to him, moving to hug him after seeing his sister break like that. Malcolm shoved him away. “Why didn’t you protect her,” he hissed. Milo stumbled back, hitting the back of the couch. For a moment, I was frozen. Because just like Hazel, Malcolm was stalking forward. Eyes intent on his prey. “Why didn’t you protect any of them?” Milo sucked in a breath. “Mal, I was trying to protect Hazel. I really was.” “Were you? Because she’s passed out in the room back there with black stained fingers, her entire soul embroiled in old magic. The very kind we vowed to keep her away from. So where the fuck were you, Milo, huh? What was the point of giving you any of this power if you were going to waste it.” “I didn’t want it,” Milo protested. “And I still tried. She’s my sister, too, man.” “That’s right. I forget that you treat your family like shit.” [[Malcolm, that was uncalled for]] [[Milo, maybe you should leave]] [[How is Hazel doing?]] “I’ve never seen her like that either,” I whispered. I had gotten a taste of her magic but it had never been like this. The wounds on Milo’s face were bubbling and if Malcolm hadn't torn Hazel off him, she would have killed him. There was very little doubt in my mind. The door to Malcolm’s bedroom opened as Malcolm came walking back through, sans Hazel. On instinct, Milo went up to him, moving to hug him after seeing his sister break like that. Malcolm shoved him away. “Why didn’t you protect her,” he hissed. Milo stumbled back, hitting the back of the couch. For a moment, I was frozen. Because just like Hazel, Malcolm was stalking forward. Eyes intent on his prey. “Why didn’t you protect any of them?” Milo sucked in a breath. “Mal, I was trying to protect Hazel. I really was.” “Were you? Because she’s passed out in the room back there with black stained fingers, her entire soul embroiled in old magic. The very kind we vowed to keep her away from. So where the fuck were you, Milo, huh? What was the point of giving you any of this power if you were going to waste it.” “I didn’t want it,” Milo protested. “And I still tried. She’s my sister, too, man.” “That’s right. I forget that you treat your family like shit.” [[Malcolm, that was uncalled for]] [[Milo, maybe you should leave]] [[How is Hazel doing?]] “Malcolm,” I snapped. “That was uncalled for.” He knew it was, too. Malcolm never would have said something like that to him. For all the shit that was between them, and all the things Milo had done, Malcolm had never once dug so deep and cruel. Not that I had known of, at least “No, $name, it’s fine,” Milo said, rubbing a hand across his face. “I’m just going to go. I’m not helping here. Looking back towards Malcolm’s door, Milo sighed a bit. “Can you just let me know how she’s doing? Or if there is anything I can do to help?” “You’ve done enough,” Malcolm said tiredly. He walked towards the kitchen, beginning to rummage around in his cabinets. I couldn’t tell if it was a case of idle hands or if he had a plan. By the time I turned back, Milo was already gone. I didn’t even see him disappear. Only smelled the remnants of a gate. “$name, you still need to go see about Gabriel.” I faltered. I had forgotten. Washed away were my other responsibilities in light of what had just happened and a seed of guilt formed. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> I had witnessed first hand the destruction. Watched as Gabriel’s hands became bloody. I had to find him. Gain some amount of control and understanding over him before he did it to anyone else.<</if>> “Are you going to be okay?” I asked Malcolm. Because I still cared. The raw pain on his face was still so fresh. “Feelings should be put aside for the moment,” he said, his knuckles still cracking as he curled them into fists. “That’s not what it seemed like with the way you just talked to Milo,” I commented. I could see the way his jaw locked together. I hoped it was guilt. Or a little bit of shame. Malcolm was better than the words he had uttered. “Just go,” he said, far more subdued. “You can always come back.” Slowly, Malcolm began cleaning up the mess that had been created. Taking back his home. I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, but watched as Malcolm shook his head. “Just go,” he whispered. I didn’t know if there was anything that I could add. Everything was in shambles at our feet. So instead, I turned to get eyes on the Velvet Guard. And in return, our Warden. [[Next|To Gabriel 2]]“Milo, maybe you should leave,” I told him. Having him here was only exacerbating the situation far more. If Hazel woke up and saw Milo still here, there was no telling what else was going to happen. And honestly, I didn’t think that Malcolm or I could take much more of it. And while there had always been an undertone of bitterness to some of Malcolm’s words towards him, but never like this. Rubbing a hand across his face, Milo nodded, muttering something to himself. “Yeah. Of course. Of course.” He glanced at Malcolm’s room where Hazel was contained. “Just get a hold of me if there’s anything I can do?” “You’ve done enough,” Malcolm said tiredly. He walked towards the kitchen, beginning to rummage around in his cabinets. I couldn’t tell if it was a case of idle hands or if he had a plan. By the time I turned back, Milo was already gone. I didn’t even see him disappear. Only smelled the remnants of a gate. “$name, you still need to go see about Gabriel.” I faltered. I had forgotten. Washed away were my other responsibilities in light of what had just happened and a seed of guilt formed. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> I had witnessed first hand the destruction. Watched as Gabriel’s hands became bloody. I had to find him. Gain some amount of control and understanding over him before he did it to anyone else.<</if>> “Are you going to be okay?” I asked Malcolm. Because I still cared. The raw pain on his face was still so fresh. “Feelings should be put aside for the moment,” he said, his knuckles still cracking as he curled them into fists. “Just go. You can always come back.” Slowly, Malcolm began cleaning up the mess that had been created. Taking back his home. I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, but watched as Malcolm shook his head. “Just go,” he whispered. I didn’t know if there was anything that I could add. Everything was in shambles at our feet. So instead, I turned to get eyes on the Velvet Guard. And in return, our Warden. [[Next|To Gabriel 2]]“Is Hazel okay?” I asked. Now wasn’t the time for whatever was happening between the two of them. Or for Malcolm’s anger. I just wanted to make sure that Hazel was alright. That we weren’t about to lose her to the magic that had rippled through her veins. “No,” Malcolm said. “She’s not. But I don’t know how to make this one better.” Any fight that had been in him was actively getting shoved down. He was banishing it to some inner well of strength that he rarely called upon. The very one that had haunted most of his youth. “I could go and try and find someone to help her,” Milo suggested. “Feebus might know–” “You’ve done enough,” Malcolm said tiredly. He walked towards the kitchen, beginning to rummage around in his cabinets. I couldn’t tell if it was a case of idle hands or if he had a plan. “$name, you still need to go see about Gabriel.” I faltered. I had forgotten. Washed away were my other responsibilities in light of what had just happened and a seed of guilt formed. <<if $gabrielbreak == "true">> I had witness first hand the destruction. Watched as Gabriel’s hands became bloody. I had to find him. Gain some amount of control and understanding over him before he did it to anyone else.<</if>> “Are you going to be okay?” I asked Malcolm. Because I still cared. The raw pain on his face was still so fresh. “Feelings should be put aside for the moment,” he said, his knuckles still cracking as he curled them into fists. “Just go. You can always come back.” I glanced at the room Hazel was being held in. At Milo leaning against the back of the couch, head down. And at Malcolm, cleaning up the mess that we had created. I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, but watched as Malcolm shook his head. “Just go,” he whispered. I didn’t know if there was anything that I could add. Everything was in shambles at our feet. So instead, I turned to get eyes on the Velvet Guard. And in return, our Warden. [[Next|To Gabriel 2]] I nearly fell onto the bed in order to get to her. She scrambled towards me at the same time, a soft sound like a wounded animal falling from her lips. It was only at the last second that I remembered I couldn’t touch her. That I wasn’t corporeal. But when her body fell solidly into my arms it took my breath away. My hands splayed across her back, holding her tightly to me. She buried her face in my neck, her tears dripping down my bare skin. I could feel her fingers digging into my arms. Her body trying to push as close to my own as possible. “$name,” she cried. “Oh, $name. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please…” “You have nothing to be sorry about.” I didn’t know what she was saying. I didn’t even care. I was just relieved to have her voice in my ear. To feel her in my arms. For the first time it felt like we were back to where we had been. This was the reunion we should have had when I burst from the liminal space of my mind. This was how I wanted to spend my forever. “I killed people.” Hazel reared back, her hands fluttering up to clutch at my face. As if she was forcefully trying to make me listen. “I killed so many people, $name. I didn’t want to. Please, I didn’t want to.” I mimicked her movements, running my fingers across her cheeks, gathering her tears and wiping them away. “I know. I know you would never do that.” “I’m sorry.” There was such heartbreak in her eyes. It was enough to break me as well. “I didn’t mean for any of this. I didn’t know you were going to come back. It just hurt so much. I didn’t know.” “Shh,” I hushed her, wrapping my arms around her and practically pulling her into my lap. “We’ll figure this all out. I promise. You’re safe here. Lucinda can’t get to you.” She tensed in my arms. “Lucinda? No. No, that’s not what I’m talking about.” She was struggling in my grip now, trying to get out to explain something. “$name, honey, you need to listen to me. You have to understand. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “You didn’t do anything,” I assured. “You did noth–” She gasped loudly, as if a knife had slipped into her belly. Doubling over, she clutched at her stomach. “Hazel? Hazel. What’s wrong? What’s happening?” “No. No no no. It’s not time. I can’t… I don’t want to go back.” [[Then stay with me]] [[Try to ground her as the Night Market]] [[What are you talking about? Tell me quick]] “Then stay with me,” I urged, dragging her against my body as she began wilting in my arms. “Don’t go anywhere. I don’t want you to go anywhere.” Looking towards me with tear stained cheeks she shook her head. “I don’t want to go,” she broke, the cries wracking her body. “I won’t let anyone take you,” I assured. But I could feel my tears beginning to form. Our time was short and there was no way to stop a ticking clock. Hazel’s lungs weren’t working. Her face was darkening to a bruised red as she couldn’t catch her breath, her lips bleeding of color as she clutched at me. She was shaking her head, her body trembling as she realized the futility of the situation at hand. “Hazel?” Leaning forward, she wrapped herself around me, a whine keening in my ear. I clutched her to me, trying to breathe in a way that could calm her down. “Honey, I’m here. I’m right here.” Shadows began ebbing in. Inky black and verdant vines began raining down the walls in a bubbling drip. They trickled onto the floor, soaking the wood, before racing towards us at a speed that stopped my heart. “I love you,” Hazel was whispering, pressing her tear soaked face close. “Please don’t let me go. //Please.//” “I’m not going to let you go. I’ll never let you go.” She nodded. “I love you. I love you $name. I love you so much. I’m sorry. I–” She bowed in my arms, arching her back as the black vines shot into her body. They raced up her arms and back, bulging beneath her skin, crawling up her neck and choking her words. They sunk into her body until there was nothing left, just leaving Hazel limp in my arms. “Hazel?” I whispered. Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring at me. She fell through my hold then, through my body as I was no longer corporeal. It gave her the opportunity to scramble off the bed. “Don't touch me,” she hissed. “What do you think you’re even doing? Who even are you?” “Hazel,” I whispered, feeling my heart shatter. “It’s me. Please. It’s–” “No!” she shouted. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to be here!” Pushing herself to her feet, she ran towards the door. When she pushed it open, I could spy Malcolm still on the couch, having been unaware of anything that had even happened. He stood as he saw his sister. “What happened?” he asked. She turned a glare towards him. “Stay away from me,” she hissed. “All of you, stay the hell away from me.” Maybe we were too tired. Maybe we were scared a little. Or maybe, we just couldn’t continue to hurt her anymore. But both of us let her go. The door slammed and we knew she was heading back to the alley. Back to Lucinda. And there was nothing we could do to stop her. The anger and fear in her eyes when she looked at me was gutting. The way she didn’t trust Malcolm was heartbreaking. The fact that our hands were tied was nearly unbearable. [[Begin to cry]] [[Get angry]] [[Sit down, resigned]] “Hey,” I told her, trying to put a smile on my face as I pulled her upwards, making her look me in the eye. “You are okay. //We// are okay. Nothing is going to take you away.” Hazel wanted to believe me. The way she clung to me with her eyes was heartbreaking. There was such hope there. I wasn’t going to let anyone rob her of that. But, Hazel’s lungs weren’t working. Her face was darkening to a bruised red as she couldn’t catch her breath, her lips bleeding of color as she clutched at me. She was shaking her head, her body trembling as she realized the futility of the situation at hand. “Hazel?” Leaning forward, she wrapped herself around me, a whine keening in my ear. I clutched her to me, trying to breathe in a way that could calm her down. “Honey, I’m here. I’m right here.” Shadows began ebbing in. Inky black and verdant vines began raining down the walls in a bubbling drip. They trickled onto the floor, soaking the wood, before racing towards us at a speed that stopped my heart. “I love you,” Hazel was whispering, pressing her tear soaked face close. “Please don’t let me go. //Please.//” “I’m not going to let you go. I’ll never let you go.” She nodded. “I love you. I love you $name. I love you so much. I’m sorry. I–” She bowed in my arms, arching her back as the black vines shot into her body. They raced up her arms and back, bulging beneath her skin, crawling up her neck and choking her words. They sunk into her body until there was nothing left, just leaving Hazel limp in my arms. “Hazel?” I whispered. Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring at me. She fell through my hold then, through my body as I was no longer corporeal. It gave her the opportunity to scramble off the bed. “Don't touch me,” she hissed. “What do you think you’re even doing? Who even are you?” “Hazel,” I whispered, feeling my heart shatter. “It’s me. Please. It’s–” “No!” she shouted. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to be here!” Pushing herself to her feet, she ran towards the door. When she pushed it open, I could spy Malcolm still on the couch, having been unaware of anything that had even happened. He stood as he saw his sister. “What happened?” he asked. She turned a glare towards him. “Stay away from me,” she hissed. “All of you, stay the hell away from me.” Maybe we were too tired. Maybe we were scared a little. Or maybe, we just couldn’t continue to hurt her anymore. But both of us let her go. The door slammed and we knew she was heading back to the alley. Back to Lucinda. And there was nothing we could do to stop her. The anger and fear in her eyes when she looked at me was gutting. The way she didn’t trust Malcolm was heartbreaking. The fact that our hands were tied was nearly unbearable. [[Begin to cry]] [[Get angry]] [[Sit down, resigned]] Something was happening. I could feel it in the air with the crack of magic that began to wrap around us. “Okay,” I breathed, trying to keep the franticness from my voice. “What are you trying to tell me? You have to say it quick.” But Hazel’s lungs weren’t working. Her face was darkening to a bruised red as she couldn’t catch her breath, her lips bleeding of color as she clutched at me. She was shaking her head, her body trembling as she realized the futility of the situation at hand. “Hazel?” Leaning forward, she wrapped herself around me, a whine keening in my ear. I clutched her to me, trying to breathe in a way that could calm her down. “Honey, I’m here. I’m right here.” Shadows began ebbing in. Inky black and verdant vines began raining down the walls in a bubbling drip. They trickled onto the floor, soaking the wood, before racing towards us at a speed that stopped my heart. “I love you,” Hazel was whispering, pressing her tear soaked face close. “Please don’t let me go. //Please.//” “I’m not going to let you go. I’ll never let you go.” She nodded. “I love you. I love you $name. I love you so much. I’m sorry. I–” She bowed in my arms, arching her back as the black vines shot into her body. They raced up her arms and back, bulging beneath her skin, crawling up her neck and choking her words. They sunk into her body until there was nothing left, just leaving Hazel limp in my arms. “Hazel?” I whispered. Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring at me. She fell through my hold then, through my body as I was no longer corporeal. It gave her the opportunity to scramble off the bed. “Don't touch me,” she hissed. “What do you think you’re even doing? Who even are you?” “Hazel,” I whispered, feeling my heart shatter. “It’s me. Please. It’s–” “No!” she shouted. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to be here!” Pushing herself to her feet, she ran towards the door. When she pushed it open, I could spy Malcolm still on the couch, having been unaware of anything that had even happened. He stood as he saw his sister. “What happened?” he asked. She turned a glare towards him. “Stay away from me,” she hissed. “All of you, stay the hell away from me.” Maybe we were too tired. Maybe we were scared a little. Or maybe, we just couldn’t continue to hurt her anymore. But both of us let her go. The door slammed and we knew she was heading back to the alley. Back to Lucinda. And there was nothing we could do to stop her. The anger and fear in her eyes when she looked at me was gutting. The way she didn’t trust Malcolm was heartbreaking. The fact that our hands were tied was nearly unbearable. [[Begin to cry]] [[Get angry]] [[Sit down, resigned]] Every ounce of emotion, every small bit of support I had been trying to thrust forward, broke. Like cracks in a dam, it all came pouring out. When I had died, I had left Hazel alone in the world. She felt lost and unloved and I couldn’t even fix the mistake. I couldn’t tell her that she was wrong. That I loved her too. That I would give anything just to be with her again. Was there ever going to be a day where this would end? Walking towards the couch, I sunk down, the tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt Malcolm’s hand come over mine, squeezing lightly. When I looked at him, I could see his own eyes shining. “What do we do?” I asked. “We get her back. There’s nothing else we can do.” “Malcolm, after all of that, how? How do we even go about it? I feel like we shoved her away more today? She knew who I was. For about five minutes, she knew who I was. And then it was all just taken away.” My throat began to close. “Why did it all get taken away?” Malcolm of course had no answer. Leaning forward, he pulled me into a hug, letting me cry on his shoulder. For one single second, I thought I had her back. And then just like sand, she fell through my fingers. “Lamplight, listen to me,” Malcolm whispered fiercely. “I don’t know what’s going on with my sister. I don’t know if my mother is behind it all. If it’s something else. I don’t know what to even think. But I know, above anything else, she loves you.” Taking me by the shoulders, he pushed me back, looking me in the eyes. “And that’s what’s going to bring her back. Love will always bring her back to us.” I took in a shaky breath. “Promise me that, Malcolm. You have to promise that.” Ducking his head, he looked me straight in the eye. “I’m your Gatekeeper. I will stop at nothing to make you happy.” I felt laughter bubble in my throat along with the tears as I leaned back into him. I believed him. I actually believed him. And while my entire heart wanted to run out the door, I knew that the Hazel that was out there wasn’t my own. Instead, I tucked the memory of her close. And waited for the day that she reached for me again. I’d be ready. [[Chapter Six]] Turning, I hit the wall, the plaster molding around my fist. Because of course I was incorporeal enough that I couldn’t even make a mark on this world. Because everything was out of my control. It always had been. The woman I loved was running through the streets back to her abuser and I was here, unable to do a damn thing. “I fucking hate this,” I growled, staring at the spot that should have had cracked plaster but instead was pristine. “I don’t exactly hate that you couldn’t put a hole in my wall,” Malcolm intoned. I turned to him. He was still sitting on the couch, looking tired and drawn. “How are you not pissed? How are you not running to get her?” “Because it would do nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Have you given up?” “No,” he said, face screwing up. “Of course not. But I know when to bide my time. And unfortunately, now is one of those moments.” “Malcolm, that was her.” I pointed towards the door, leaning forward to make my point. “She was actually Hazel. She knew who I was. She was in my arms.” “And then what happened?” I paused. “I– I don’t know. Something came at us. At her. Black rain or vines. I can’t… it’s all blurry.” Malcolm frowned. “Any green to them?” I shook my head. “Have you ever seen it before?” “I don’t think so.” Leaning back onto the couch, he took a deep breath. His head tipped backwards, eyes closing. “We’ll get through this.” “Excuse me if I don’t believe the sentiment,” I snapped. “Lamplight,” he said tersely. “I get that you’re angry. I am too. But I need you to be calm. Be on my side here. You aren’t used to playing my mothers game but I am. And if we’re going to win, then we need to not act rashly. We never should have brought her here today.” “What else do we do then?” I cried. Malcolm cracked his eyes open, looking towards me. “We wait.” I hated it. It was the last answer I ever wanted to hear. I wanted to tear apart the market. Send Lucinda back to the void she crawled from and hold Hazel in my arms. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. And the one person who I had always trusted to do everything, suddenly couldn’t. I sunk down next to Malcolm, defeated. I felt him reach out, placing a hand on mine. Outside the enchanted windows, the stars began winking out. I wondered if that was by design, or if another world was beginning for salvation. That sad thing was, I didn’t know if I cared anymore. [[Chapter Six]] I made my way over to the couch where Malcolm had been sitting and lowered myself down. I felt numb. Like the world around me had just dealt me a massive blow. But, what had happened in there had cleared a few things up for me. My Hazel was still in there. She was still wanting to fight. And that meant, I had to be the one to help her. I didn’t care what was happening or why. I didn’t care how we had to get her back. We just would. Entertaining any other kind of option wasn’t a choice. Malcolm sat down next to me, head in his hands, body hunched forward. I could hear him take in three deep breaths. “Okay,” he said, straightening and dragging his hand down his face. “Okay.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “She was in there with me. She knew who I was.” “For how long?” There was hope in his voice as he looked at me. Clinging to the idea that his sister wasn’t lost forever. “Five minutes.” It wasn’t much and the flicker of disappointment said that. But, five minutes was far more than we had before. “You didn’t hear any of it?” “I thought you two were sleeping.” It was what I had wanted. To sleep next to her and wake up in the morning to this all being a dream. “No. She was awake when I got in there. I think she was too scared to get off the bed.” Malcolm swallowed thickly, turning his head from mine to hide the grief in his eyes. Reaching out, I placed my hand on his. Outside the enchanted windows, the stars began winking out. I wondered if that was by design, or if another world was begging for salvation. Once, I had answered every single one of their calls. Now, I wasn’t sure if I would. Not if it meant saving Hazel. “We’ll get her back,” I whispered to Malcolm. “We’ll get her back.” Malcolm didn’t say anything. But his silence spoke volumes. [[Chapter Six]]“You should rest,” I told him. A lot had happened today. <<if $hazelkey == "true">>His cheek from where Hazel had slapped him didn’t look as bad as it had before. But it was still a mark and a reminder of a time that had changed him forever.<</if>> “I thought you wanted to talk,” he asked, confused. It was why I had sent Malcolm away in his eyes. So I could berate him without anyone intervening. “If you want to talk we can but I do think you should rest. And I wanted to see if you would sleep with me in the room.” “Of course I would.” It was said too quickly though. Being this close to me bothered him. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “I thought you couldn’t lie.” His shoulders slumped then, the exhaustion creeping over bit by bit. “It wasn’t a lie.” “How?” I was genuinely curious as to how he had created so many loopholes for himself. “I said would,” he told me with a bitter smile. “As in past tense.” “Impressive.” “Yeah.” His voice cracked, hands shaking as he rubbed them across his face. “We need to talk,” he whispered. “I know this. And I don’t want to but I will.” “But?” He turned, looking at me fully. “I’m so fucking tired.” Getting up, I went over to one of the trunks that Malcolm kept in the living room, opening a few before finding a storage of blankets. Picking one up, I came over, placing it on the sofa next to Milo. “Sleep,” I told him. Milo was at a precipice. He could have left. He could have made an excuse. We both knew that he was good at those. So when he took the blanket and pulled it over him, I was slightly pleased. As he settled in, he looked at me curiously. “Why?” he asked. I knew what he was speaking of without clarification. “Because,” I told him calmly. “You’re going to beat yourself up far more than anyone else. And I want to show you that you’re wrong.” “About what?” “About being undeserving of forgiveness.” If he had anything else to say, it became lost. Instead, he turned from me, pulling the blanket up under his chin. I sat in Malcolm’s vacant seat, curling my feet under me. I didn’t know when Milo fell asleep. It did take awhile. But when he finally did, I sighed. It wasn’t exactly a fix. It would take a long time for that. But, it was a start. [[Chapter Six]] “Just talk with me,” I told him. “Exist in the same space.” “Talk. About what?” “Anything,” I urged him. “Anything you want.” Putting his teacup aside, Milo sighed, rubbing his hands together. “I got a new end table for the distillery. Not that I’ve been living there but I did get one. No more crate as a bedside stand.” “Where are you keeping it?” I asked. “I have it at the Star Sanctuary. Tucked away in a separate room that I rent for myself. Estelle told me it is some sort of trauma response but I don’t really get that one. I just don’t want any of my stuff to be stolen.” I tipped my head to the side. “That doesn’t make a ton of sense.” “No, it does.” His voice was oddly passionate about it. This had been an argument he had had before and I had to keep myself from laughing as I thought of him and a stranger, fighting over Milo’s own paranoia. When he finished, he shifted uncomfortably. “I should go.” “Milo, the market is locked down,” I told him gently. “You can’t. Just keep talking.” Milo was frozen, not able to speak. To move. “You want to say no, don’t you?” “It’s not that.” “Then what is it?” “I just don’t know where to go from here.” “I don’t either.” Because what did you do when you had a moment so embroiled in confusion that the truth was buried somewhere it would never see the light of day. “And maybe that’s okay. Maybe we just take this one day at a time.” He laughed a little, fiddling with his cup. “I don’t do well with that. Little known truth. I’m an impatient fucker.” “That’s not a little known truth,” I teased. Rolling his eyes, Milo pushed himself off the couch, gathering the empty tea cups and kettle. “Alright, //Lamplight,” he smirked. “I’m gonna clean the kitchen. Get some sleep. I’ll try to think of more inane things to tell you when you wake up.” “Promise?” He froze. The ask hung in the air between us. A promise. It gave both of us the shivers, causing our stomachs to turn. “How about a try?” he asked. I smiled sadly at him. For now, that would have to do. [[Chapter Six]] There was something calm about Malcolm’s home. A softness that moved in the air. Standing, I leaned forward, grabbing Milo’s cup and setting it aside. Then, holding out my hand, I raised a brow to him. “Dance with me.” He glanced down, knowing that if he took my hand, it would mean so much more. This wasn’t just a dance. It was forgiveness. Understanding. A promise for both of us to do better and be by each other’s side. The decision was heavy and if it was betrayed after tonight, there would be no more forgiveness. His hand folded within mine as I pulled him to his feet. Ever so slowly, I led him to the otherside of the room, in front of the enchanted windows that had dipped downwards into a pink sunset. I felt his hands settle hesitantly upon me, one at my waist and one clasped in my own. He shook, still not believing that he was allowed to be here once again. Slowly our feet began to move, carrying us back and forth to the sway of the music crackling from the old turntable. Milo pulled me close, hand sliding to the small of my back as we were pressed together. The rapid beat of his heart thudded against mine as we moved and dipped, the two of us silently vowing to start over once again. Everything else faded away at that moment. Gone were the promises that had been broken and the moments of uncertainty. Fading away was a bloody night that had changed the course of our entire world. Our decisions, our very soul, had to be washed clean. To be mended. And while we were still battered and bruised we were agreeing to treat each other with a gentle hand, molding forgiveness into our hearts until we were left with something new. It all bloomed between us as we swayed gently, breathing against each other. As we held each other close, I felt my heart skip. Because for once, for the first time in a long while, I felt safe. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not at its fullest. There was so much more that needed to be spoken of. But for now? For now it was enough. As long as we kept on dancing. [[Chapter Six]] “Gabriel killed twenty of his guards,” I said. The blood that washed the streets, produced from the Warden’s hands, had a smell to it. It lingered in the air, even far from the kill sight. Malcolm didn’t even look surprised by the news. More of a sad sort of understanding. “The madness has finally taken him then.” It was the only explanation. Gabriel was a lot of things, but he loved his men. <<if $help == "reese">>”Yeah. He’s with Reese right now. I think he’s under sedation. Reese can handle him if he’s not. I kind of forgot that he has a god living in him.” “He what?” I tapped the side of my head. “Weird Night Market knowledge. It’s been filtering in. Not that it’s been helpful but I have to believe that I’m getting this information for a reason. Even if it’s just to know that this is the best place for Gabriel.” “Yeah, I suppose so.”<<elseif $help == "elias">>”Yeah, he’s with Elias right now. There’s a healer there. Someone who Elias has used through the years to stave off his madness. He’s going to help. Elias called them a Graceling?” Malcolm nodded. “I wondered if they would bring one of those into all of this. Though, I really did think they were extinct.” “Why’s that?” “Gracelings were hunted. They have all the pure grace of a celestial but its locked away in different items embedded into their skin. Hunters used to cut those items out and steal the grace, leaving the gracelings for dead.” “Of course they did,” I said with a sigh. I was too tired to be surprised. “Well, hopefully this graceling will be able to help Gabriel. Otherwise, I’m not sure what we’re going to do.”<</if>> We continued walking, taking the small shortcuts that I could create. I was learning how to move bits of land, brick by brick. “Surprised you came my way,” he said, watching what I was doing with interest. [[Wanted to make sure you were fine after Hazel]] [[You might be the only person I can safely talk to]] [[I’ll always come your way]] <<if $help == "elias">> I wondered if he knew that he was at Elias’s. That the Dollmaker was caring for him. That grace was being pumped into his body by an individual who had kept Elias alive. That Gabriel’s continued existence depended on Elias’s death. It felt wrong to be here without Belladonna. I understood why she wasn’t at Gabriel’s bedside. Elias clearly made it impossible for a vampire to walk comfortably within his realm. But she should have been here holding Gabriel’s other hand. The steady comfort of her voice would have spoken to him and between the two of us, we could have pulled him back. And in the end, I wanted her arms around me as well. I wanted comfort after Gabriel fell asleep. “I’ll stay,” I told him, his eyes already slipping closed. I swallowed, not looking forward to the morning. As soon as Gabriel was rested, reality was going to hit. We would have to restrain him then. The softness to his voice wouldn’t last. Tomorrow, the Velvet Guard was about to change. The hunt for Gabriel would continue. And Gabriel wouldn’t even care. Leaning forward, pressing my head to his chest, I breathed him in. “Please be okay,” I whispered to him. “I need you to be okay.” He didn’t answer. [[Chapter Six]] <<elseif $help == "reese">> I wondered if he even realized he was in his old room. A place he had slept for countless of years during a happier time in his life. Did he remember the lightning bolt that pierced through his skin? Could he hear Reese? A soft knock came from the door before creaking open. When I looked over, only to see Belladonna slipping through, I felt something slot into place. Her mere presence made my shoulders settle. “How is he?” she whispered. I swallowed thickly. “Not good.” She walked over to the bed, running her chilled hand across his cheek. She paused for a long moment, staring down at him with a mixed bit of emotions coloring her cheeks. “Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered. When she took her hand away, she sat at the edge of the bed, facing me. “You need some sleep,” she whispered. “This is far too much for anyone.” “Where have you been?” I whispered, swallowing thickly. “Oh, my heart.” Reaching out, she cupped my cheek, not actually touching me but coming close. I expected more. Some sort of explanation. But there was nothing. “Come with me. Let’s let him rest. I’ve already let Reese know that I’m spending the night.” I rose to my feet despite not wanting to. “He wanted me to stay with him,” I protested. “Darling, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I can assure you of that. And I’m far more concerned with keeping you well. I don’t need two lovers sick.” Back in the main living room, she led me over to the couches that were covered by Reese’s hoard in the middle of the room. With a sigh, she kicked everything off the couches, motioning for me to rest. “Do you wish to stay with me tonight?” she asked. “Of course.” Despite not being able to touch her, I could stretch out next to her. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” “How so?” “You will be going out into the Outlands. I found where the location of one of those broken lanterns was and have hired a guide to take you.” [[That is sudden]] [[Why tomorrow?]] [[You’re not coming with me?]] <<elseif $help == "belladonna">> Sighing, I leaned back in the chair. I would stay with him. Watch the peace on his face. Because in the end, I didn't know how long it was going to last. I wondered if he even realized he was in his old room. A place he had slept for countless of years during a happier time in his life. Did he remember the lightning bolt that pierced through his skin? Could he hear Reese? A soft knock came from the door before creaking open. When I looked over, only to see Belladonna slipping through, I felt something slot into place. Her mere presence made my shoulders settle. “How is he?” she whispered. I swallowed thickly. “Not good.” She walked over to the bed, running her chilled hand across his cheek. She paused for a long moment, staring down at him with a mixed bit of emotions coloring her cheeks. “Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered. When she took her hand away, she sat at the edge of the bed, facing me. “You need some sleep,” she whispered. “This is far too much for anyone.” “Where have you been?” I whispered, swallowing thickly. “Oh, my heart.” Reaching out, she cupped my cheek, not actually touching me but coming close. I expected more. Some sort of explanation. But there was nothing. “Come with me. Let’s let him rest. I’ve already let Reese know that I’m spending the night.” I rose to my feet despite not wanting to. “He wanted me to stay with him,” I protested. “Darling, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I can assure you of that. And I’m far more concerned with keeping you well. I don’t need two lovers sick.” Back in the main living room, she led me over to the couches that were covered by Reese’s hoard in the middle of the room. With a sigh, she kicked everything off the couches, motioning for me to rest. “Do you wish to stay with me tonight?” she asked. “Of course.” Despite not being able to touch her, I could stretch out next to her. “Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” “How so?” “You will be going out into the Outlands. I found where the location of one of those broken lanterns was and have hired a guide to take you.” [[That is sudden]] [[Why tomorrow?]] [[You’re not coming with me?]] <</if>> <<if $help == "elias">> I wondered if he knew that he was at Elias’s. That the Dollmaker was caring for him. That grace was being pumped into his body by an individual who had kept Elias alive. That Gabriel’s continued existence depended on Elias’s death. “I’ll stay,” I told him, his eyes already slipping closed. I swallowed, not looking forward to the morning. As soon as Gabriel was rested, reality was going to hit. We would have to restrain him then. The softness to his voice wouldn’t last. Tomorrow, the Velvet Guard was about to change. The hunt for Gabriel would continue. And Gabriel wouldn’t even care. Leaning forward, pressing my head to his chest, I breathed him in. “Please be okay,” I whispered to him. “I need you to be okay.” He didn’t answer. [[Chapter Six]] <<elseif $help == "reese">> I wondered if he even realized he was in his old room. A place he had slept for countless of years during a happier time in his life. Did he remember the lightning bolt that pierced through his skin? Could he hear Reese? “I’ll stay,” I told him, his eyes already slipping closed. I swallowed, not looking forward to the morning. As soon as Gabriel was rested, reality was going to hit. We would have to restrain him then. The softness to his voice wouldn’t last. Tomorrow, the Velvet Guard was about to change. The hunt for Gabriel would continue. And Gabriel wouldn’t even care. Leaning forward, pressing my head to his chest, I breathed him in. “Please be okay,” I whispered to him. “I need you to be okay.” He didn’t answer. [[Chapter Six]] <<elseif $help == "belladonna">>I wondered if he even realized he was in his old room. A place he had slept for countless of years during a happier time in his life. Did he remember the lightning bolt that pierced through his skin? Could he hear Reese? “I’ll stay,” I told him, his eyes already slipping closed. I swallowed, not looking forward to the morning. As soon as Gabriel was rested, reality was going to hit. We would have to restrain him then. The softness to his voice wouldn’t last. Tomorrow, the Velvet Guard was about to change. The hunt for Gabriel would continue. And Gabriel wouldn’t even care. Leaning forward, pressing my head to his chest, I breathed him in. “Please be okay,” I whispered to him. “I need you to be okay.” He didn’t answer. [[Chapter Six]] <</if>> My eyes were still closed when I witnessed the dawn rising in a pink hue. It stretched across a thin strip of white cloud, making the ends wispy and ethereal. I had never actually seen a sunrise. Nor a sunset. But I could imagine it. In fact, I tried to imagine it all too much. The way the sun would burst across the sky, driving away the night. The darkness receding into the stars, tucked away until the time came that it was needed once more. It was all so poetic in my mind. Then I opened my eyes to the cluttered surroundings of a room swirling with motes of dust. To shelves piled high with broken paraphernalia and tables littered with fish netting and rusted hooks. The strangest sight, however, was Belladonna in the kitchen. She was behind the stove, hair pulled up off her neck, cooking. It was a sight to behold given that she was still clad in her high slit gown. The shimmer of threads waved at me from across the room. “You’re gonna burn it.” Reese’s gruff voice was next. He was at the table, glaring at her while nursing a cup of coffee. “Shut up,” she told him. There was very little in the way of vitriol behind her words but surprisingly, Reese did listen. I sat up, looking around the room as if anything had changed. The door to Gabriel’s room was still shut tight, no sound emitting from it. The clatter of a plate landing on the table echoed in the room as Belladonna put what looked like a large platter of eggs in front of Reese. He stared down at it. “You grew up in a puritan society and you nearly burnt these eggs. You would have made a terrible wife.” I couldn’t be sure, but I almost detected pride from that statement. Bella certainly took it as a compliment. Taking his fork, he dug in, eating even the burned bits. “$name, my heart, come eat some food.” There was an immediate tenseness to Reese when he realized I was awake. He turned his body away to eat his eggs with his back towards me. Until Belladonna slapped him upside the head. “Kido, I’m warnin’ you. You are on thin ice with the way you’ve been actin’ this mornin’.” Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, lovingly patting him on the back. “I don’t care.” Standing, she smiled at me warmly. “Food, $name. I do not wish to ask again.” Quietly, I got up, padding over to the breakfast table, seeing the spot in which I was meant to sit cleaned of any of the paraphernalia littering the way. Belladonna put a plate of eggs down in front of me, this time a little less burnt than Reese’s. “How is Gabriel this morning?” I asked. “Sleeping,” Belladonna said. “Reese has given him something so he stays under for a bit while we decide what it is we will be doing with him.” “That sounds ominous.” “Would you rather he go on another killing spree?” Reese stabbed at his eggs, his fork hitting the plate with a loud clink. [[Of course not. I just want him to be okay]] [[I think he needs to be a part of what is happening to him]] [[You don’t like me much, do you]] “You don’t like me much, do you.” It hadn’t gone unnoticed how cold Reese treated me. I just couldn’t figure out why. The contact I had with the man was minimal. But looking back on it all, he had kept his distance whenever we were in the same room. “Nope. I don’t,” he said. “Why?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “Why you so concerned?” “Because usually when individuals are disliked, there is a genuine desire to know why. Or perhaps there is a simple curiosity to know why you are acting like an ass,” Bella mused. She sat across the table from the two of us, looking nonchalant over the situation. But it was clear she was also curious as to Reese’s treatment of me. Putting his fork down, Reese scooted from the table. “I’ll keep myself in check,” he said. “You’re helping my boy and that should be good enough for me. Old vengeances just die hard.” “Old– what does that even mean?” Reese stood, pushing his chair back in and looking towards Bella. “Thank for breakfast, kiddo. You two headed out soon?” She stared back at him with a pursed expression. “This is not over,” she told him. “Gather your thoughts if you must, but you will be explaining yourself.” “Aw, it’s cute to see you try and pull rank on me.” “It’s cute that you think I will just let this go.” Reese shook his head, looking back at me. “You love her?” [[Of course I love her]] [[I don’t answer those kind of questions to people I don’t know]] [[Do you care?]] “Of course not,” I said. “I just want him to be okay.” Through the course of knowing Gabriel, we had arguably been through a lot. And while I found his actions questionable most of the time, and downright immoral during other moments, I had never affiliated him with a monster. Someone that would take the life of an innocent on some sort of religious purge. I wanted to believe that that wasn’t him. “He’ll be fine,” Reese grunted. It was Bella who looked at us with the beginnings of a sad resignation. “He might not be,” she said softly. “Calm it down, kiddo. I saved one angel from madness. I can do it again.” “Elias is different, Reese.” The calmness to her voice was thin. Wavering at the edge of an emotion she didn’t want to admit. “You know this. We got our chance with Gabriel and our time may be up.” He shoved away from the table. “So what? You’re just writin’ him off now? Some friend you fuckin’ are.” “Reese…” “Nah. I’m done with this. Get out of my house when breakfast is done. Thanks for the eggs.” Belladonna didn't try to stop him as he rose, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste to escape the conversation. Yanking a bottle of whisky from a nearby shelf, he didn't look back as he made his way to the front door, slamming it behind him during his retreat. Maybe I should have found it comforting that the man wouldn't entertain the idea of Gabriel's death. But if anything, I just felt it like a weight in my stomach. Denial was a strange mistress. Belladonna was looking out the window that was over the kitchen sink, watching Reese disappear into the mists. "He'll come around," she whispered. "I can't imagine seeng all this again is easy." "Was Elias pretty bad?" "More so. But," she turend to me with a forced smile. "That is a story for another time. Eat your eggs. We have an appointment to keep.” “For the Outlands.” “Yes. I have a guide for you. Someone that will be able to take you out into the barren waste and return you without a single hair on your head being harmed. Mainly because he knows I will slit his throat and let his life drip all over his mothers floor if he doesn’t keep you safe.” I raised a brow at her. “Oh, stop. He doesn’t have a mother and he doesn’t have blood. It’s a phrase. Eat.” I took a few more bites of her eggs. They were bland and slightly crunchy with shells but they were made by her. It struck me that this was the first domestic thing we had done together. [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]] “I would rather him be awake and aware of what is happening to him,” I said. Decisions being made on someone else's behalf was not sitting right with me. If Gabriel had any reason to him left, he deserved to have a say in what was going on. “You think that boy is of sound mind?” Reese laughed. “I’m not someone that cares much about killin’ but even what he did seemed a bit too unhinged for me. You don’t just slaughter people outside of war.” “Some might argue slaughtering people in war is also an unhinged thing,” I pointed out. He laughed grimly. “You wouldn't be wrong. Might be the first damn thing you’ve said that makes sense, actually.” “Senseless death never has a purpose,” Belladonna said. “Though, it is very easy to find purpose to give death a reason.” She sat down across from me, crossing her arms in front of her as she watched us eat. Without her own goblet in her hand, she seemed to not know what to do. [[Death is death no matter how you spin it]] [[There is not a morally good time to take someones life]] [[Some people deserve to die]]“Death is death no matter how you spin it,” I told them. “Right and wrong should be taken out of it. Because at the end of the day, someone is still gone. Most of them will not be returning.” “Good,” Reese grunted. “Some people are better off not returning.” “Not all, however.” It was a sad fact. One I had learned mostly from Pen. While death was a job, a normal function of life, it held so much more to it. Grief. Anger. A lack of understanding from the world. It was scary and unknown to most and too final for others. While offering an end to one thing and opening a new chapter to another. Death was death. It was the only way to cover each of the nuanced forms that it provided. Right or wrong didn’t really enter into it. The chair slid back from the table as Reese rose. “Breakfast was good, Bells. Gonna go take a walk and clear my head a bit.” She looked up at him wanly. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.” He only nodded towards her, not looking at me, before making his way to the front door and leaving with a soft click. We could see him seconds later, wandering through the mists and out towards the back fields. “Eat your eggs,” Belladonna said quietly. I looked back at her. “Did I upset you?” “The entirety of this situation is upsetting, dear heart. Just eat your eggs. We have a meeting to attend.” [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]]“There is never a morally good time to take someone's life,” I stated. It could be argued that everyone had to go sometime, but at the hands of another was always far harsher. It was a thread of the future snapped in two, rippling out to unravel others' own fate. “Depends on your version of morality,” Reese said. “What Gabriel did was wrong,” Belladonna stated firmly. “There is no way to excuse it. However, he is also not in his right mind and that does need to be factored into our feelings of him.” “No one is passing judgment on him,” Reese snapped. “The guard is,” I said. I might be. If I could get a chance to unpack everything that was transpiring. “Fuck the guard. They are a bunch of powerless fucks that got told they had an ounce of authority and then turned around and used it for their own gain. They don’t do a damn thing for this world.” Standing, Reese sighed. He looked at Bella, placing a hand on her shoulder. The conversation was done. “Gonna take a walk. You two stickin’ around?” “For a moment. Don’t go too far. I don’t think Gabriel should be alone.” He nodded, not even looking at me as he left the house. “Do you blame him?” Belladonna asked. My attention snapped back to hers, feeling the intensity of her gaze push into me. “Do you blame Gabriel for what he did out there?” [[It was the madness. Not him]] [[He took those lives]] [[I don’t know how to pass judgment on this]] “Some people deserve to die.” The table went silent. Perhaps because I was the heart of the market, I shouldn’t have said it. But, it was a simple fact that many did not think of. While I would do everything in my power to save whoever I could, there were others in this world and beyond that didn’t deserve the life they were given. Who squandered their power and their purpose. Why should those souls live over the innocent just trying to get through the day. Reese was the first to speak. “Well now that we can’t agree on,” he said gruffly. Rising, he walked around the table, placing a comforting hand on Belladonna’s shoulder. “Gonna go out to the garden for a bit. Clear my head and figure out the next plan of attack.” She tilted her head back to smile up at him. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.” When he looked across the table at me, it was with a little less odium than before. I didn’t pretend to think that I had cracked through his armor, however. “Do you really think that?” Belladonna asked as Reese moved from the house. “Do you believe that some deserve to die?” “Coming from you I didn’t think that you’d be offended.” “I’m not. I’m also just making sure that you aren’t fundamentally changing. An unstable Night Market is good for no one.” I picked at my eggs, thinking about the statement for a long moment. I was the emotional part of the market. The compassion. The one with a thirst to feel more. Up until this moment, I tried to save who I could. We were in this mess due to that. “I don’t relish death,” I told her. Pen had taught me never to enjoy it. “I want everyone to have redemption. But some are too lost to obtain it.” “And the people Gabriel killed?” That was a different subject altogether. One I didn’t want to think of. Because at the end of the day, I didn’t want Gabriel to fall into the category of the unsavable. Noticing my discomfort, Belladonna just nodded towards my eggs. “Eat,” she told me gently. “We have an appointment to keep today.” [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]] “Of course I love her,” I shot back. From across the table, I saw Belladonna’s head jerk upwards. Like she hadn’t expected me to defend myself the way I did. Or maybe she hadn’t believed the depths of my feelings until now. “Then what does it matter what I think of you,” Reese hissed through his teeth. “You love her, then don’t give a shit about others. Give a shit about you and her. Got it?” “That’s what I’m doing.” Rounding the table, he placed a hand next to my plate, leaning down until he was close to my ear. “Then we aren’t going to have a problem.” It was a threat. Somehow, the peace offering was a clear threat. And he didn’t walk away until he made that threat known. When the front door closed behind him, I looked across the way towards Bella. “Do you know what all that is about?” She was looking out the window that was over the kitchen sink, watching Reese disappear into the mists. “No,” she said slowly. “I am trying to remember if he has ever said anything negative about the Night Market. It’s hard to tell given how dour of a person he is.” “Has he ever been charming?” Bella smiled. “Oh, he can be charming alright. It was more prominent during the era of him and Elias.” A wistfulness came over her face then as she thought of the two men. A life that had faded with time. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “Eat your eggs. We have an appointment to keep.” “For the Outlands.” “Yes. I have a guide for you. Someone that will be able to take you out into the barren waste and return you without a single hair on your head being harmed. Mainly because he knows I will slit his throat and let his life drip all over his mother's floor if he doesn’t keep you safe.” I raised a brow at her. “Oh, stop. He doesn’t have a mother and he doesn’t have blood. It’s a phrase. Eat.” I took a few more bites of her eggs. They were bland and slightly crunchy with shells but they were made by her. It struck me that this was the first domestic thing we had done together. [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]] “I don’t answer those kinds of questions to people I don’t know.” My smile towards him was thin. I had no reason to like him either if he wasn’t going to make an effort. What was it Pen had once said to me? Not everyone has to be your friend. Rounding the table, he placed his hand next to my plate, leaning down until he was close. “Take care of her.” It was a threat. I knew it was a threat. And he didn’t walk away until that point became clear. When the front door closed behind him, I looked across the way towards Bella. “Do you know what all that is about?” She was looking out the window that was over the kitchen sink, watching Reese disappear into the mists. “No,” she said slowly. “I am trying to remember if he has ever said anything negative about the Night Market. It’s hard to tell given how dour of a person he is.” “Has he ever been charming?” Bella smiled. “Oh, he can be charming alright. It was more prominent during the era of him and Elias.” A wistfulness came over her face then as she thought of the two men. A life that had faded with time. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “Eat your eggs. We have an appointment to keep.” “For the Outlands.” “Yes. I have a guide for you. Someone that will be able to take you out into the barren waste and return you without a single hair on your head being harmed. Mainly because he knows I will slit his throat and let his life drip all over his mother's floor if he doesn’t keep you safe.” I raised a brow at her. “Oh, stop. He doesn’t have a mother and he doesn’t have blood. It’s a phrase. Eat.” I took a few more bites of her eggs. They were bland and slightly crunchy with shells but they were made by her. It struck me that this was the first domestic thing we had done together. [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]] “Do you care?” I shot back. Two could play whatever game he was attempting to play. At first, I wondered if he didn’t like me because I was stepping in on territory. Maybe he held out hope for Bella and Gabriel. Given time, maybe his hope was they would wind up together. But as I looked at him, I wasn’t sure that was the case. To me, it ran deeper. Something more than just wanting Bella inducted into his family. Reese made it little secret that he loved Bella like his own daughter and treated her as such. He didn’t need Gabriel involved for that. Rounding the table, he placed his hand next to my plate, leaning down until he was close. “Take care of her.” It was a threat. I knew it was a threat. And he didn’t walk away until that point became clear. When the front door closed behind him, I looked across the way towards Bella. “Do you know what all that is about?” She was looking out the window that was over the kitchen sink, watching Reese disappear into the mists. “No,” she said slowly. “I am trying to remember if he has ever said anything negative about the Night Market. It’s hard to tell given how dour of a person he is.” “Has he ever been charming?” Bella smiled. “Oh, he can be charming alright. It was more prominent during the era of him and Elias.” A wistfulness came over her face then as she thought of the two men. A life that had faded with time. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “Eat your eggs. We have an appointment to keep.” “For the Outlands.” “Yes. I have a guide for you. Someone that will be able to take you out into the barren waste and return you without a single hair on your head being harmed. Mainly because he knows I will slit his throat and let his life drip all over his mother's floor if he doesn’t keep you safe.” I raised a brow at her. “Oh, stop. He doesn’t have a mother and he doesn’t have blood. It’s a phrase. Eat.” I took a few more bites of her eggs. They were bland and slightly crunchy with shells but they were made by her. It struck me that this was the first domestic thing we had done together. [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]] “When I go to the Outlands, I want you to stay here,” I told her. “That is the plan,” she said with a soft sigh. “I am glad that you are not putting up a fight about it.” I wanted her by my side. More than anything I wanted to take her hand and travel through the unknown together. But, I was now beginning to think that Belladonna was not capable of doing it. A fact that was far more concerning to me. “However,” I stated. “I do wish for you to tell me what’s going on. I don’t feel comfortable leaving until you do.” The mask snapped so quickly into place that I nearly reeled back. “There is nothing–” “Don’t lie to me.” Her palm flattened onto the table, fingers curling into half moon shapes into the wood. The veins in the back of her hand stood out more, blue and frigid against her pale skin. “You know I am sick.” “With what you will not say.” “I shouldn’t have to.” There was a sharpness to her tone. One that people bowed down to as if under a spell. [[I shouldn’t have to ask either]] [[I’m sorry. You can tell me in your own time]] [[That is not how relationships work]] “I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands. I don’t care if we have to bring a guide but I do want you to be with me.” I couldn’t touch her, but I was sick of being away from her. I had woken from my liminal slumber and had barely been by her side. Belladonna was a busy woman. I had known this from the beginning. But it didn’t mean that I wouldn’t fight to carve out more time with her. She was tapping her fingers on the table, a nail scratching across the river of woodgrain. “I want to,” she stated. “But I won’t be.” “Why?” She sighed wearily. “We’ve gone over this, $name. I am needed here. A Baron cannot just take off into the Outlands with very little idea of a return date.” “But the Night Market can?” Her palm flattened onto the table, fingers curling into half moon shapes into the wood. The veins in the back of her hand stood out more, blue and frigid against her pale skin. “You know I am sick.” “With what you will not say.” “I shouldn’t have to.” There was a sharpness to her tone. One that people bowed down to as if under a spell. [[I shouldn’t have to ask either]] [[I’m sorry. You can tell me in your own time]] [[That is not how relationships work]] “You know that I shouldn’t have to ask, right? That I shouldn’t have to wheedle and beg to get you to tell me something. Especially something that is clearly serious.” “You don’t have a right to know,” she shot back at me. I could see the agitation. It was irrationally blooming like a poisonous bloom. “No one has a right to my personal life. And if you think that is what a partner is then…” she trailed off, shoulders slumping. Reaching out, I placed my hand by her own. Not quite touching. “Bella, what is going on,” I whispered, letting the fear and care enter my voice. “Please. Let me help you. You can trust me.” “I know that,” she said, disgusted that I would even suggest that she didn’t. “Then why won’t you talk to me.” Looking away, she ground her teeth together. Her fangs biting into her lower lip. I couldn’t help but notice how little blood came from her wound. “It is not so simple,” she finally answered. [[I can only be patient for so long]] [[Keep your secrets. But I’m not happy about it]] [[Why are you fighting me so hard?]] “I’m sorry.” I wanted to know. I wanted to know so bad it hurt. But this was Bella’s choice. Not mine. I couldn’t force her to speak. “You can tell me in your own time.” I heard the plate shatter across the room and looked up to see her breathing heavily. Reese’s leftover eggs were sitting in a broken pile of ceramics near the fridge. “Don’t you dare do the passive aggressive tactic with me,” she shot back. “I will not tolerate that kind of behavior, $name.” I blinked at her. “I wasn’t–” “You don’t get to just do this every time I don’t tell you something. You do not own me. I do not have to give an explanation. And I think I have been quite tolerant of you and your entire Night Market persona thus far. You can give me a bit of respect.” [[Respect is earned]] [[Bella, this has nothing to do with me]] [[Bella, I know you are scared...]]“That is not how relationships work.” “Because you would know?” The second she said it, I watched as she flinched at her own words. There was a crack in her mask. She was fighting back with a barbed tongue when I got to a topic she actively wanted to avoid. “Apologies,” she said. “That was uncalled for.” I reached across the table, placing my hand next to her own. “Bella, if your illness is keeping you from me, I need to know what is going on. Keeping me in the dark about this isn’t helping. And if anything, it is worrying me.” “And you think I’m not worried?” Her eyes flashed blood red, a bit of the monster beneath starting to creep through. “Half the time I cannot even see you properly. Bits and pieces of you are transparent. A feature in which I will gladly take over the lifeless form I had to bury not too long ago but still one I do not enjoy.” “I’m back. I’m working on being corporeal,” I told her softly. “Right, and meanwhile, every time I leave your side, I wonder if Hynsin will emerge from your chest. I stay awake at night concerned with what he is doing in there, rooting around as if he owns you like property. Do not sit and imply I am not worried, $name, because I am doing everything I can to keep it together and get you out of this damn mess.” I swallowed, never having seen her like this before. I couldn’t remember her speaking with such anger. Not towards me. “Alright,” I said slowly, trying to ease some comfort between us. “I’m sorry. But Bella? Just because something is going on with me doesn’t mean we ignore everything that is going on with you.” She didn’t say anything. [[I can only be patient for so long]] [[Keep your secrets. But I’m not happy about it]] [[Why are you fighting me so hard?]] “I can only be patient for so long,” I told her. “There is going to come a point in time where this is going to be a real problem between us. I do not like secrecy. Something you should know given the events that have recently transpired.” That got to her. The flinch was the first one I had seen. I hadn’t been aware there were even words that could do that. “I am nothing like Milo Next,” she bit out. “Then stop pretending like keeping such a secret is the only way to accomplish such a goal.” Her gaze leveled with my own. There was not a single ounce of me that believed she was not angry with me. The comparison alone was enough to make her see red. But, she also knew I was right. “I’m dying,” she stated. And in that moment, my word felt like it was going to shatter. “What?” “I’m not just sick. I’m dying. Blood does not nourish me. Anything I drink turns to ash in my mouth. I’ve had to resort to having blood transfusions from Gadora. She drinks a victim. Let it dilute in her bloodstream, and then have it pumped directly into my own. It makes me sick. I vomit for most of the day after so I only like to do it when necessary, and as a whole, I hate my life a bit for the moment. Yet, I cannot tell anyone because if anyone got wind of how weak I am, they would kill me not only for the title of Baron, but for the sheer satisfaction of finally fucking me.” Whatever glamor she held dropped. No longer did I see the curvacious woman who I longed to have beneath my hands, but a gaunt form. A reflection of who she once was. [[Why Gadora?]] [[When did this happen?]] [[What can we do?]] <<set $belladying to "true">>“Keep your secrets,” I told her. “But I’m not happy about it.” There was protecting privacy and then there was what Belladonna was doing. She was blatantly keeping something from me and I knew without a doubt that when it came out, it wasn’t going to get any better. This was the kind of secret that caused wounds while ignored. And for as intelligent of a woman that Belladonna was, she didn’t seem to care about the harm that was caused. That alone, bothered me more than I wished to admit I heard her chair scrape from the other side of the room as she got up and walked around the table. She sat at the edge of it, the fabric from her dress barely ghosting against my skin in a mimicry of touch. “Just go out there and become corporeal again,” she said softly. “If you can do that, then we will have a more in depth chat. I am sorry for being so closed off about this. There is just far too much happening and I am afraid I am not dealing with it in the way that perhaps you deserve.” I tipped my head up towards her. “So there is something i need to be aware of.” She tightened her jaw. “We’ll see.” I pushed my eggs away, having eaten half the plate. “Let’s go then. Because it sounds like I’m not going to be able to get answers about much of anything until I am back from the Outlands.” “Let us pray it is as simple as that.” Closing my eyes, I swallowed. Bella's mind was made up. Meaning, I had no choice but to follow. "A few days," I said softly. "Take someone with you if you must. One of your Artisan Alley misfits or perhaps even the Albright boy." [[I'll be fine with your contact]] [[I'll take Herald with me]] [[I'll take Malcolm with me]] <<set $belladying to "false">>“Why are you fighting me so hard on this?” There was an amount of effort she was putting into avoiding answering the question that felt unnecessary to me. It was starting to default into ideas that were far more concerning than her just being ‘sick’. “This is not even a fight, my heart. You are fixating on a truth that does not exist and confused as to why I will not give you information that I cannot possibly give. If I wanted to keep anything from you, you wouldn’t have even gotten wind of my illness. I have been transparent with you. It has just not been to your liking.” “That’s not what this conversation is even about.” I understood her not coming with me. I understood her not wishing to state something when she didn’t have all the facts. But I was starting to wonder if Belladonna struggled to share her emotions in a genuine manner. To be vulnerable. I heard her chair scrape from the other side of the room as she got up and walked around the table. She sat at the edge of it, the fabric from her dress barely ghosting against my skin in a mimicry of touch. “Just go out there and become corporeal again,” she said softly. “If you can do that, then we will have a more in depth chat. I am sorry for being so closed off about this. There is just far too much happening and I am afraid I am not dealing with it in the way that perhaps you deserve.” I tipped my head up towards her. “So there is something i need to be aware of.” She tightened her jaw. “We’ll see.” I pushed my eggs away, having eaten half the plate. “Let’s go then. Because it sounds like I’m not going to be able to get answers about much of anything until I am back from the Outlands.” “Let us pray it is as simple as that.” Closing my eyes, I swallowed. Bella's mind was made up. Meaning, I had no choice but to follow. "A few days," I said softly. "Take someone with you if you must. One of your Artisan Alley misfits or perhaps even the Albright boy." [[I'll be fine with your contact]] [[I'll take Herald with me]] [[I'll take Malcolm with me]] <<set $belladying to "false">>“Respect is earned, Belladonna. And the way you are treating me right now is far from okay. Tell me, if you heard a stranger speak to me in such a way, would you slit their throat or simply move on without a glance.” She stopped, her teeth grinding together. “If anyone spoke to you as such, they would not take another breath.” “Exactly. So why are you demanding respect from me when you clearly think it is only given situationally?” There was no answer. Because her pride got in the way of it all. My own blood was boiling hot at the accusation. But not only that, the fear that came with it all. Because if Belladonna was acting with this much vitriol, something was truly wrong. “Alright,” I said slowly, trying to ease some comfort between us. “I need you to listen to me. Really listen. No matter what is happening in life, big or small, it will never be an excuse to ignore what is going on with you. I will never not want to know what you are going through.” She didn’t say anything. [[I can only be patient for so long]] [[Keep your secrets. But I’m not happy about it]] [[Why are you fighting me so hard?]] “Bella, this has nothing to do with me,” I told her. “Do not turn this into me not respecting you or whatever else you are about to say. Something is going on with you. Something incredibly serious given how much you are protesting. “You wishing to know what is happening benefits you and you only. So yes, this does have something to do with you. This entire conversation, in fact, is for your benefit alone.” There it was again. Another deflection. Another way in which she tried to put up her armor. Yet, it wasn’t building around her like normal. Even she hated the words she was saying. I swallowed, never having seen her like this before. I couldn’t remember her speaking with such anger. Not towards me. “Alright,” I said slowly, trying to ease some comfort between us. “I need you to listen to me. Really listen. No matter what is happening in life, big or small, it will never be an excuse to ignore what is going on with you. I will never not want to know what you are going through.” She didn’t say anything. [[I can only be patient for so long]] [[Keep your secrets. But I’m not happy about it]] [[Why are you fighting me so hard?]] I knew what this was. While her words stung a little, I didn’t take much stock in them. If anything, I was more concerned. Because this was what Belladonna was like when she was out of control. She lashed out. She belittled. She fought tooth and nail to gain control of the narrative again. But I didn’t think she could this time. “Bella, I know you are scared,” I told her softly. “I can see it in your eyes. That is why I need you to talk to me. Whatever is happening, is not a burden you need to take on all on your own.” “Is that what you think I am doing? Do you believe me to be that weak?” She rolled her eyes, drumming her nails against the table and cutting small marks into the wood. “Please, $name. You may be the Night Market but I have been playing this game far longer than you have. You are only now human. I have been traversing the scope of emotions before you were even sentient.” There it was again. Another scathing remark. Another way in which she tried to put up her armor. Yet, it wasn’t building around her like normal. Even she hated the words she was saying. I swallowed, never having seen her like this before. I couldn’t remember her speaking with such anger. Not towards me. “Alright,” I said slowly, trying to ease some comfort between us. “I need you to listen to me. Really listen. No matter what is happening in life, big or small, it will never be an excuse to ignore what is going on with you. I will never not want to know what you are going through.” She didn’t say anything. [[I can only be patient for so long]] [[Keep your secrets. But I’m not happy about it]] [[Why are you fighting me so hard?]] “Why Gadora?” It was perhaps a stupid thing to ask given the information she had just bestowed me with. But my world had frozen. I couldn’t think past the next minute. The next second. But if there was something about Gadora that was special, perhaps I could be that as well. Bella only smiled sadly at me. “Jealousy is unbecoming, dear heart.” I tipped my head upwards, my face blank. “Why Gadora?” I asked again. There was a beat of nothing where neither of us even breathed. When she exhaled, I felt the breath stir against my cheeks. “Because she’s corporeal.” With those words, the world began spinning forward. Tumbling over itself in a cacophony of white noise that constricted my chest and brought tears to my eyes. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep myself from panicking. “I have to go to the Outlands,” I said. “I need to become corporeal again.” I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how it would help. But it would. She as good as said so. And when she nodded towards me resolutely, I knew that it was my only option. “You do,” she whispered. “I do.” “Then, let us not speak of this further and go.” She rose from her seat, taking in her own breath, despite not needing it. I watched her sway. An action I had seen from her several times since being back but had chalked it up to nothing but her heels. She was not going to die. There had to be some perk to being the entire world in which we walked and having Death as a best friend. Belladonna was not going anywhere. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. Bella's mind was made up. Meaning, I had no choice but to follow. "A few days," I said softly. "Take someone with you if you must. One of your Artisan Alley misfits or perhaps even the Albright boy." [[I'll be fine with your contact]] [[I'll take Herald with me]] [[I'll take Malcolm with me]]“When did this happen?” I heard the words leave my mouth but didn’t feel my lips even move. Did they? “Not long after you died.” “I didn’t die. I’m here.” “Now you are,” she reasoned. There was something that wasn’t slotting together right. Like a little piece of the puzzle that was being shoved in the wrong slot. “Bella–” “Don’t.” She could hear the wetness in my voice. The tears in my eyes. “I do not wish to talk about this. Not until we need to.” “We need to now,” I nearly shouted. The pain in my voice was like a slap. She turned away. I didn’t think Belladonna had ever turned away from me. Now I was wondering just how much she hid. My world felt like it was spinning. Everything tilted in the room, falling in a clatter in my mind. Bella was dying. There was no magical means of bringing her back. Not like me. She wouldn’t rise from the grave again with a ticking clock or have death bring her back. Then again…. “I have someone who can help,” I blurted out. “Pen. An old friend of mine. They can possibly give us some answers.” She looked at me with a kind smile. I could tell she didn’t believe a word of it. But she would humor me. “Go to the Outlands first. I have time. And right now, I would very much like you to be corporeal. I do think it would help quite a bit. Give me something to hold onto.” “But–” “Dear heart, please. This is not new for me. I have things I am working on. When you get back, we can discuss them. It should only be a few days.” Every part of me said not to let her go. To follow her like a shadow through the market. But, she was right. In the state I was in, I could do very little and Pen had gone no contact since my last bout at the graves. At least the Outlands were a direction. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. Bella's mind was made up. Meaning, I had no choice but to follow. "A few days," I said softly. "Take someone with you if you must. One of your Artisan Alley misfits or perhaps even the Albright boy." [[I'll be fine with your contact]] [[I'll take Herald with me]] [[I'll take Malcolm with me]]“What can we do?” I asked. My throat was tight as tears threatened to spill from my eyes. There was a numb sort of shock that was coursing through me. It threaded through my veins in painful spikes. “I am working on it,” she told me. “My heart, I swear to you, I am working on it all.” I saw the fear well up in her eyes as she desperately tried to grasp my hand. But it fell through. It always fell through. “You cannot die,” I told her firmly. “You’re a vampire. I– is that even a thing? I mean, I know it is but is it through starvation?” She shook her head. “No. Not in the way you are thinking. I will simply just cease to exist one day. My body will look like a typical dead body. I will not wake. No amount of force feeding me will work. I will effectively be the corpse that I am.” “Don’t say that,” I snapped wetly. She looked away. “I’m sorry, my heart. Gallows humor is a rare coping mechanism but it is one I have indulged into the last few moons.” My world felt like it was spinning. Everything tilted in the room, falling in a clatter in my mind. Bella was dying. There was no magical means of bringing her back. Not like me. She wouldn’t rise from the grave again with a ticking clock or have death bring her back. Then again…. “I have someone who can help,” I blurted out. “Pen. An old friend of mine. They can possibly give us some answers.” She looked at me with a kind smile. I could tell she didn’t believe a word of it. But she would humor me. “Go to the Outlands first. I have time. And right now, I would very much like you to be corporeal. I do think it would help quite a bit. Give me something to hold onto.” “But–” “Dear heart, please. This is not new for me. I have things I am working on. When you get back, we can discuss them. It should only be a few days.” Every part of me said not to let her go. To follow her like a shadow through the market. But, she was right. In the state I was in, I could do very little and Pen had gone no contact since my last bout at the graves. At least the Outlands were a direction. Closing my eyes, I swallowed. Bella's mind was made up. Meaning, I had no choice but to follow. "A few days," I said softly. "Take someone with you if you must. One of your Artisan Alley misfits or perhaps even the Albright boy." [[I'll be fine with your contact]] [[I'll take Herald with me]] [[I'll take Malcolm with me]]“It was the madness,” I said wearily. “Not him.” None of it was right. It was convoluted and a byproduct of such a bigger power. I had to believe that when Gabriel came to his senses, he would see reason. He would feel remorse. The man had always been tactical in how he went about his business, but not once, in all the time I had known him, did he exact lethal violence on others. I was positive he had in volatile situations, but it was not his norm. All of this felt out of character for him. “I am glad you see it that way,” Belladonna said. There was stark relief in her voice. “I was worried you would not.” “We just need to keep this from being repeated,” I told her. “We can’t let him continue with this idea of a purge.” “I think his fathers will be taking care of that,” she said softly. “Elias doesn’t even know Reese is alive.” For reasons I still didn’t understand, Reese’s existence was being kept a secret. And Belladonna was not about to answer any of my questions. The entire story was one she lived and yet she was loyal to keeping it a secret. “Eat your eggs,” she told me. “We have a meeting to attend.” [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]]“He took those lives, Belladonna. There is no other way to spin it. Madness or not, he did know what he was doing and decided to play god. There isn’t really a way we can make this any better.” “But it wasn’t him,” she said. “It was the Knowing. Gabriel is their tool. He always has been.” “I know. But, that offers no comfort to the families that are grieving and that doesn't bring back the ones who died that do not belong to the market. Some of those individuals will not get a rebirth. They will just cease to exist.” “These kinds of things happen, $name. You cannot hold Gabriel responsible.” “I can,” I told her simply. As of right now, I didn’t know what that would mean. But blood was on his hands. And that could not go unpunished. The wheels turned in Belladonna’s head as she weighed the benefits to continuing the conversation. There was a far off look to her eyes and a tightness around her mouth, but she said nothing more. “Eat your eggs. We have a meeting to keep,” she told me. [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]]“I don’t know how to pass judgment on this,” I told her honestly. “What he did was horrible. There are families broken apart due to his actions. Yet, what is happening to him, the reasons he is doing it, are not his fault either. I don’t know who should be held responsible here or if we just have to pretend like this didn’t happen.” “Never pretend,” she whispered. “It won’t do him any good.” “What are your feelings on it all?” A bitter smile crept over her lips and I swore I could see the flash of anger burn bright in her eyes before she hid it again. “My feeling is that the Knowing deserves to die. Gabriel may not survive this, but the indoctrination of anyone new needs to come to an end.” “How would we even go about doing that?” I asked. “By continuing with our plans. Now, eat your eggs. We have a meeting we need to keep.” [[I want you to stay here while I go to the Outlands]] [[I want you to come with me when I go to the Outlands]] Clearing my throat, I stepped forward, announcing my presence to the room. The gentle reprieve I had received last night was not one I was foolish enough to think I would get today. But I wanted to at least talk with him. Maybe if I could see Gabriel more frequently, he would understand that I was not a figment of his imagination. “Oh, $name,” Elias sighed. “You are here.” He scooted over a bit, inviting me to sit next to him by the bed. But I did not move, too afraid to break the tenuous hold. That, and Gabriel was unmoving. Just staring at me with an almost reverent expression. It was the kind that dared me to hope. “Son, do you know who this is?” Elias asked gently. Gabriel’s eyes were locked on mine and I could see the way they flickered to mistrust. Not of me, but of himself. “Of course I do.” Reaching out, Elias touched Gabriel’s hand. “I can see ?them, Gabriel. $name is real.” His mouth opened and closed, the idea of it rattling around his head in an effort to finally slot the image of me into its rightful place. Gone was the almost desperate attempt to rid me from his memories. Or the accusations that I was a test. A curse. A way for him to fail. For the first time in a long while, I felt like Gabriel was actually seeing me. Elias rose, patting Gabriel on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a moment.” I wanted to say something to him. Maybe even a thank you. But instead, I just continued to stare at Gabriel as Elias exited the room. I had prepared myself to be with him past the vulnerability point. Where he thought I was a dream and reverted to seeing me as a demon. Some being sent to torture him for his failures. But there was something different in his face this time. A recognition there that was full of such hope that he clung to it was a tight desperation. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I was at his bedside in two stumbling steps, my hands running through his own. I cursed loudly, still trying to hold onto him. But whatever ability I had been granted before, was gone now. No longer could I touch him. “Gabriel,” I breathed. “It’s you. You actually see me.” “I can’t touch you,” he whimpered. Silver tracked down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “Why can’t I touch you? Are you truly a spirit?” I shook my head. “Not a spirit. I don’t know what I am but I’m not that. Sometimes I can touch. Just not now. Never when I want to, it feels.” His hand twitched on the bed next to mine as his fingers danced out to test the theory. They passed through me like mist, my own skin dissipating as the image of it was disturbed by his own. [[I'm trying to fix myself]] [[We need to talk about what is happening to you]] [[Do you remember what you did]] Stepping forward, I positioned myself at the edge of Gabriel’s bed. Before I had stepped into the room I had braced myself for another round of him yelling at me. Telling me that I wasn’t real. The ups and downs of his mind were something I would need to guard myself against. “You need to listen to Elias,” I told him firmly. “Spending time here with him is only going to help you.” And, I didn’t want Gabriel to wake up one day and realize his father was gone and he had done nothing to enjoy those final moments. Gabriel was unmoving, staring at me with an almost reverent expression. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Son, do you know who this is?” Elias asked gently. Gabriel’s eyes were locked on mine and I could see the way they flickered to mistrust. Not of me, but of himself. “Of course I do.” Reaching out, Elias touched Gabriel’s hand. “I can see ?them, Gabriel. $name is real.” His mouth opened and closed, the idea of it rattling around his head in an effort to finally slot the image of me into its rightful place. Gone was the almost desperate attempt to rid me from his memories. Or the accusations that I was a test. A curse. A way for him to fail. For the first time in a long while, I felt like Gabriel was actually seeing me. Elias rose, patting Gabriel on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a moment.” I wanted to say something to him. Maybe even a thank you. But instead, I just continued to stare at Gabriel as Elias exited the room. I had prepared myself to be with him past the vulnerability point. Where he thought I was a dream and reverted to seeing me as a demon. Some being sent to torture him for his failures. But there was something different in his face this time. A recognition there that was full of such hope that he clung to it was a tight desperation. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I was at his bedside in two stumbling steps, my hands running through his own. I cursed loudly, still trying to hold onto him. But whatever ability I had been granted before, was gone now. No longer could I touch him. “Gabriel,” I breathed. “It’s you. You actually see me.” “I can’t touch you,” he whimpered. Silver tracked down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “Why can’t I touch you? Are you truly a spirit?” I shook my head. “Not a spirit. I don’t know what I am but I’m not that. Sometimes I can touch. Just not now. Never when I want to, it feels.” His hand twitched on the bed next to mine as his fingers danced out to test the theory. They passed through me like mist, my own skin dissipating as the image of it was disturbed by his own. [[I'm trying to fix myself]] [[We need to talk about what is happening to you]] [[Do you remember what you did]] I stepped forward a little more, walking to the edge of Gabriel’s bed. I had prepared myself for him to send me away. The night before had been a comfort but he had convinced himself he was dreaming. I doubted he could do the same now. “The madness is here,” I told him gently. “But we are working on it. We aren’t going to let it take you.” Gabriel continued to stare at me, unblinking. It was as if he couldn’t find the words. “Son, do you know who this is?” Elias asked gently. Gabriel’s eyes were locked on mine and I could see the way they flickered to mistrust. Not of me, but of himself. “Of course I do.” Reaching out, Elias touched Gabriel’s hand. “I can see ?them, Gabriel. $name is real.” His mouth opened and closed, the idea of it rattling around his head in an effort to finally slot the image of me into its rightful place. Gone was the almost desperate attempt to rid me from his memories. Or the accusations that I was a test. A curse. A way for him to fail. For the first time in a long while, I felt like Gabriel was actually seeing me. Elias rose, patting Gabriel on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a moment.” I wanted to say something to him. Maybe even a thank you. But instead, I just continued to stare at Gabriel as Elias exited the room. I had prepared myself to be with him past the vulnerability point. Where he thought I was a dream and reverted to seeing me as a demon. Some being sent to torture him for his failures. But there was something different in his face this time. A recognition there that was full of such hope that he clung to it was a tight desperation. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I was at his bedside in two stumbling steps, my hands running through his own. I cursed loudly, still trying to hold onto him. But whatever ability I had been granted before, was gone now. No longer could I touch him. “Gabriel,” I breathed. “It’s you. You actually see me.” “I can’t touch you,” he whimpered. Silver tracked down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “Why can’t I touch you? Are you truly a spirit?” I shook my head. “Not a spirit. I don’t know what I am but I’m not that. Sometimes I can touch. Just not now. Never when I want to, it feels.” His hand twitched on the bed next to mine as his fingers danced out to test the theory. They passed through me like mist, my own skin dissipating as the image of it was disturbed by his own. [[I'm trying to fix myself]] [[We need to talk about what is happening to you]] [[Do you remember what you did]] “I’m trying to fix myself,” I assured him. “To make sure we can touch. Gain control over some semblance of the market.” I looked at him imploringly. “I need you to do the same thing.” <<if $chapsix == "elias">>The confusion that he clearly felt was discouraging. Even with everything that had transpired, I doubted Gabriel even understood why he was in this bed. I was sure that to him, he felt as if he were some sort of prisoner. Kept here by Elias’s madness and my own paranoia. <<elseif $chapsix == "reese">>The confusion that he clearly felt was discouraging. Even with everything that had transpired, I doubted Gabriel even understood why he was in this bed. Why Reese had the chains ready to keep him here. For him, I was certain that he viewed himself a prisoner. Kept here out of sheer anger by a man he had spent an abundunt amount of time avoiding.<</if>> “I am fine, $name,” he told me softly. “Please, don’t look too much into this. I know everything may seem out of control now but I have all the confidence in you. We will get through this.” He thought I was concerned about me. About being incorporeal. The blood that still stained beneath his fingernails wasn’t even a concept in his mind. “Gabriel, you killed part of the guard. Individuals who worked under you. That were under your protection. Do you feel any remorse for that? These were not strangers but ones you had trained.” “I regret hurting you,” he whispered. “If I had known– how did I not know?” [[Walk me through what happened]] [[You should feel more guilt than just hurting me]] [[Because the madness has taken over]] “We need to talk about what is happening to you.” I wanted to have a moment with him. Spend whatever lucidity he had speaking how we used to and enjoying each other's company. But I had to know how far the madness had reached. There was a burning urge to understand how he had changed so much in such a little amount of time. <<if $chapsix == "elias">>“Nothing is happening to me,” he murmured. “$name, please. Do not fall victim to Elias’s tales. He is not of sound mind.” <<elseif $chapsix == "reese">>“Nothing is happening to me,” he murmured. “$name, please. Reese is a vindictive, old man. He does not know his own mind." <</if>> “You may not be either.” His jaw flexed, taking my words as an insult. “I am clear on what has to be done. Even if the rest of the world cannot see it.” “Gabriel, you killed part of the guard. Individuals who worked under you. That were under your protection. Do you feel any remorse for that? These were not strangers but ones you had trained.” “I regret hurting you,” he whispered. “If I had known– how did I not know?” [[Walk me through what happened]] [[You should feel more guilt than just hurting me]] [[Because the madness has taken over]] “Do you remember what you did?” I asked. Just as he was worried I would slip away, I was worried whatever lucidity he was displaying would soon be gone. I had to understand where his mental state was. How far along in the madness he might be. “Yes,” he said. His eyes were tracing the outlines of my body. Catching on small details and committing them to memory. “We do not need to talk about it right now. Let me look upon you.” “What did you do, Gabriel?” I pushed. “I need you to answer me.” “I killed some of the guard.” It was said so matter of factly that I felt myself reel back. He was perfectly aware of the blood he had shed. The idea that that moment could be true alongside him understanding who I was, felt wrong somehow. “Why?” I asked, hoping for something different. Praying that he was about to say it was because he was being compelled. But his answer made my stomach churn instead. “Why not?” No regret. No remorse. Just the words of someone going about their day. “Do you regret what you did?” “I regret hurting you,” he whispered. “If I had known– how did I not know?” [[Walk me through what happened]] [[You should feel more guilt than just hurting me]] [[Because the madness has taken over]] Closing my eyes, I steadied myself for what was to come. “Walk me through what happened,” I asked him. “I need to know what brought you to the point where you felt it necessary to do what you did.” He nodded, at least wanting to comply. “I told them we were going on a patrol. That there was several magic users in the depth of the market that were causing problems. I put together a team of the ones in the guard that were the most corrupt and took them with me.” “But I’m assuming there was nothing to investigate out there.” “There was. We took care of the situation. It was a group of outliers who believe that magic is essential to our existence. We gave them the chance to come peacefully. They did not. So we took care of them.” I didn’t need to ask what ‘taking care of them’ actually meant. Instead, I stayed silent, continuing to listen. “When we were done with our task, I gave our group a chance to come clean. I told them all to admit to their sins right then and there.” A flash came to me. A line of the guard standing there with Gabriel before them. His sword glowed silver. “They did. Each of them were loyal. And then I killed them.” I swallowed back the pain I felt. He spoke as if he were ordering bread. “But why? If they admitted–” “To cleanse them,” he told me. “The Knowing will take them now. They will not have to live for eternity in pain.” “Why could they not live their lives out here?” He shook his head. “Because such depravity should not be walking this realm. $name, these were not good individuals. They were thieves. Con artists. Using their power of the guard to strong arm the less fortunate out of money. To get others to do their bidding under threat of being thrown in the pits.” “The pits don’t exist any longer,” I stated. “They do. I dismantle them when they pop up but there are members of the guard who still believe in the old ways and have created new ones deep in the mines.” I felt sick. The writhing masses deep beneath the roads. Souls who had all disappeared, dragged down beneath rock and dirt to never be seen again. “Three of the guards I killed yesterday were responsible for those pits. Don’t you see? I had to kill them.” [[Maybe you did]] [[Do you plan on killing others?]] [[Death is not justice]] “You should feel far more guilt than just hurting me,” I told him. “I was not the only one //hurt// in what you did. Some of it is irreparable, Gabriel. You understand that, right? That you took a handful of lives and altered their friends and families' course of existence forever?” He shrugged. “Did I? Or did I make their lives better due to not having such sin hanging over their heads? It is all perspective, $name. And I am choosing to look at it from a place of hope.” “This is not hope,” I nearly shouted. “You are the Warden of the market. You took an oath to protect the people under this domain.” His head turned to me with a loud snap that sent my heart thumping. “And that is what I am doing.” Voice pitched lower, eyes dark, I didn’t see Gabriel staring back at me. Not my Gabriel at least. I sat back a little in my chair. There was no reaching him. Not like this . I didn’t know if this was the madness speaking or if he was somehow being controlled by the Knowing after all this time. And maybe that was exactly what the madness actually was. Another vehicle for a god that didn’t care. “I apologize for my tone,” Gabriel said, coming back to himself a little. “I do not mean to take this out on you. You are just doing what you think is best with the information you have. But, you will soon see, $name. Death is a great equalizer. We can turn this realm into paradise.” I wanted to scream. The fever bright pitch to his eyes was more worrying than anything else. He believed this. It was a faith so deep in his soul that he would fight for it. And I didn’t know if I was going to be enough to shake such a rooted belief. [[Why would the Knowing reveal this to you now]] [[Death is a friend of mine]] [[I think you need to stay here for a while]] “It’s the madness,” I told him. “It’s taken over. You have to see that.” “The madness is no truer a construct than the animals that roam the market. An idea that is paper thin and weightless. $name, the only thing that I have done that shows any sign of madness is not believing you to be real. I was told you would return to me. I just didn’t think it possible. How could I? I saw what happened to you through the window. I saw you fall.” He bowed his head in supplication towards me. “I understand that you may never forgive me for my transgressions. I will serve whatever penance that you wish. I am simply happy that you are alive. That you are here.” “I don’t want you to serve penance.” The place where he stabbed me throbbed slightly. A mark he felt guilt over but no remorse past that. “Gabriel, the Knowing is not attempting to redeem you. They are not asking you to purge. This is not them. This is clearly the madness. I think when I died, it broke the tenuous hold that you had.” “Everyone would have you believing that that particular hold was fading long before you were around. He thinks the madness has hit both him and I during periods of strife. But I can see it clearly now. It is not madness. It is the final test before we go home.” “Who told you that?” “The Knowing. Death just returns us to the embrace. It is something we should not fear. The madness is just the sign that tells us that our time has come.” I wanted to scream. The fever bright pitch to his eyes was more worrying than anything else. He believed this. It was a faith so deep in his soul that he would fight for it. And I didn’t know if I was going to be enough to shake such a rooted belief. [[Why would the Knowing reveal this to you now]] [[Death is a friend of mine]] [[I think you need to stay here for a while]] “Why would the Knowing reveal all of this to you? Why now? Why not before you fell? Or soon after? Why not when Elias was going mad. Or when you met any of the other fallen that have come to this world. Why is it at this moment in time that the Knowing has given you such clarity.” None of it made sense. It wasnt’ that I didn’t believe him but the farce that was the Knowing was starting to weave its way into every conversation between Gabriel and I. Yet, I couldn’t make him see it. “It is not my job to question the Knowing,” he told me predictably. “Yes it is,” I urged. “It is always our job to question. Accepting something as good or bad and not questioning why is a foolish idea. It leads us to blind complacency and someone out there ruling under the mantle of fear.” The muscle in his jaw twitched, his fingers tightening on the sheets. “I suppose I will have to agree to disagree about this.” “Gabriel, this is not–” “I will not be discussing it any further.” He turned away. Not only was he refusing to listen any longer, but he was blocking himself off from me entirely. The weariness I felt was overwhelming. With a sigh, I rubbed a hand over my face. “Fine,” I whispered. “Fine.” Gathering myself, I took a deep breath. “I’m going away for a bit. To the Outlands.” Gabriel sat up in bed, pushing himself up on shaky arms. “Why would you go there?” “Belladonna believes that there is a way to turn the lights back. But the answers might be out there.” Encased in old lanterns that were said to be the first of the markets. I didn’t want to tell Gabriel much, however. Somehow, the information didn’t feel safe. “Why would she think such a thing? “I’m not positive. She was studying a book. There are lanterns out there that may give us a hint as to why the ones here have gone out.” “The world is dying,” he snapped. “That is why the lights are no more. Milo Next made sure of that.” “I am the world, Gabriel. And I am not dead. Not today. And not for a long time.” “I know. And when I return to the Knowing, I will make sure that you are cleansed. Bring you with me. You don’t have to stay here any longer, $name. I will take care of you. I’ll be the man that you have desperately been waiting for.” [[Just rest please]] [[Be the man you want to be]] [[I don’t need you to be anyone else]] “Death is a friend of mine. If I asked $himher if what you are doing is actually helping, would you believe $himher?” “You are friends with Death?” He looked perturbed by this situation. Not even surprised, just simply annoyed. “Yes. And I think you two need to have a conversation.” Gabriel was pragmatic. He was never one to do something based on his feelings in the moment. It was what made him terrifying. Those deaths he had planned. Whatever was coming at his hands was something he would map out. So it wasn't surprising when he sat for a moment, considering my offer. “Just because I speak with Death, does not mean I will be changing my mind.” “That’s fine. All I ask is that you listen.” When he nodded, relief washed through me. It wouldn’t fix the situation but it was a start. “I’ll set that up,” I told him, closing my eyes for a minute to regain myself. “Now, I need to go for a while. To the Outlands. As soon as I get back I’ll come to you.” Gabriel sat up in bed, pushing himself up on shaky arms. “Why would you go there?” “Belladonna believes that there is a way to turn the lights back. But the answers might be out there.” Encased in old lanterns that were said to be the first of the markets. I didn’t want to tell Gabriel much, however. Somehow, the information didn’t feel safe. “Why would she think such a thing? “I’m not positive. She was studying a book. There are lanterns out there that may give us a hint as to why the ones here have gone out.” “The world is dying,” he snapped. “That is why the lights are no more. Milo Next made sure of that.” “I am the world, Gabriel. And I am not dead. Not today. And not for a long time.” “I know. And when I return to the Knowing, I will make sure that you are cleansed. Bring you with me. You don’t have to stay here any longer, $name. I will take care of you. I’ll be the man that you have desperately been waiting for.” [[Just rest please]] [[Be the man you want to be]] [[I don’t need you to be anyone else]] Swallowing thickly, I fought the urge to reach out and brush the tears from his eyes. I didn’t think he realized he was crying them but they had steadily been coursing down his cheek during our conversation, leaving silver tracks against his skin. <<if $chapsix == "elias">> “I think you need to stay with Elias for a while,” I told him softly. “He can take care of you.” I didn’t mention the Knowing. The madness. I didn’t mention that I thought he was hearing something that wasn’t even there. But perhaps if he stayed with Elias and his priest, they could stave off the worst of it. Give Gabriel something to make him see the truth. <<elseif $chapsix == "reese">> “I think you need to stay with Reese for a while,” I told him softly. “He can take care of you.” I didn’t mention the Knowing. The madness. I didn’t mention that I thought he was hearing something that wasn’t even there. But perhaps if he stayed with Reese, something could be done. Other than Elias, Reese as probably the only one in the market with adept experience into a celestials madness. <</if>> “Where are you going?” “The Outlands.” Gabriel sat up in bed, pushing himself up on shaky arms. “Why would you go there?” “Belladonna believes that there is a way to turn the lights back. But the answers might be out there.” Encased in old lanterns that were said to be the first of the markets. I didn’t want to tell Gabriel much, however. Somehow, the information didn’t feel safe. “Why would she think such a thing? “I’m not positive. She was studying a book. There are lanterns out there that may give us a hint as to why the ones here have gone out.” “The world is dying,” he snapped. “That is why the lights are no more. Milo Next made sure of that.” “I am the world, Gabriel. And I am not dead. Not today. And not for a long time.” “I know. And when I return to the Knowing, I will make sure that you are cleansed. Bring you with me. You don’t have to stay here any longer, $name. I will take care of you. I’ll be the man that you have desperately been waiting for.” [[Just rest please]] [[Be the man you want to be]] [[I don’t need you to be anyone else]] “Maybe you did,” stated numbly. The very idea that the pits had been reformed by freelance agents thinking it best to torture those who did not listen, was not one I wanted to entertain. Death was a strong punishment but did they give any thought to the kind of punishment they were doling out? Did they think of such things when they decided to throw innocents into a pit of bodies and forget about them? And with Gabriel not in charge any longer, would someone come along to take his place, reinstating the very thing he had worked so hard to banish? “I can see the worry on your face,” Gabriel whispered. “Don’t. I have this under control.” Except he didn’t. Because he was confined to a bed where he was slowly losing his mind. “I just want you better,” I tried to smile. I have never felt more happy or whole. For once, I feel as if I am on the right track. That I am doing good. You will see," he told me gently. "Death is the great equalizer." I wanted to scream. The fever bright pitch to his eyes was more worrying than anything else. He believed this. It was a faith so deep in his soul that he would fight for it. And I didn’t know if I was going to be enough to shake such a rooted belief. [[Why would the Knowing reveal this to you now]] [[Death is a friend of mine]] [[I think you need to stay here for a while]] “Do you plan on killing others?” It was a feeble attempt on my part to try and justify what he had done. They were individuals prone to hurting others. Maybe Gabriel had done us a favor. “Whoever is unclean, yes.” I swallowed. “But what do you count as unclean?” “Those who have sinned. The murderers. The cheats. The ones who do not follow the law of the Guard. And before you say anything, I know what you think of the law of the guard. I plan to change it. All of it. That way it aligns more with the Knowing.” He reached out to cup my face, uncaring of the fact that he could not touch me. “Together,” he promised. “Together we are going to make this realm a place to be proud of.” I recoiled but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he was humming, his thoughts spinning with his own agenda. "Gabriel, I really think that we need to speak about these things before you do anything. Especially if it involves taking the lives of others." "You will see," he told me gently. "Death is the great equalizer." I wanted to scream. The fever bright pitch to his eyes was more worrying than anything else. He believed this. It was a faith so deep in his soul that he would fight for it. And I didn’t know if I was going to be enough to shake such a rooted belief. [[Why would the Knowing reveal this to you now]] [[Death is a friend of mine]] [[I think you need to stay here for a while]] “Death is not justice,” I told him. “And it is certainly not a punishment left to you to serve.” “But it is,” he urged. “Don’t you see? It is my duty. It is what I was created for. $name, I do not remember what I did up in the Celestial Embrace but I do know that it was important. And for the first time, this feels right. More right than I have ever felt since coming to the Night Market.” “You feel right when you kill?’ “I feel right when I make this realm a better place.” His tone was almost repreminding. And while the ideas were vastly different from each other, he was treating the idea of murder and betterment as one in the same. "You will see," he told me gently. "Death is the great equalizer." I wanted to scream. The fever bright pitch to his eyes was more worrying than anything else. He believed this. It was a faith so deep in his soul that he would fight for it. And I didn’t know if I was going to be enough to shake such a rooted belief. [[Why would the Knowing reveal this to you now]] [[Death is a friend of mine]] [[I think you need to stay here for a while]] “Just rest,” I implored him. “Please just rest.” There was no magical cure to him getting better. Healthy living was not suddenly going to sweep the madness away. But I felt at a loss for what else I could do. How I could help him, even. “I will do as you wish,” he said. “For a time. But I will need to get back to work eventually.” The idea of him even conducting himself as the Warden at this point in time was a terrifying thought. Whatever change the Velvet Guard was about to go through was not going to be an easy one. I feared for how Gabriel would handle witnessing it all with no ounce of control. I rubbed at my face, feeling my hands shake. I wasn’t getting through to him. I couldn’t even touch him. I had to get the lights back on and become corporeal again. I simply hoped Belladonna was right and that the two were related. “I’ll be going to the Outlands,” I told him. “But when I get back I’ll check on you. You need to lay low for a while, though. The Velvet Guard is on the hunt for you.” “I am their Warden. They can do very little.” “You are no longer their Warden, Gabriel. They will not follow your rule.” He looked entirely unconcerned with the concept. Unconcerned with everything. Maybe he didn’t understand it. Or simply not believe it. But it was concerning just how quickly his guilt turned back into zealous fervor. Standing, I looked at him, drinking him in. “Get some rest while I’m gone,” I told him, trying to hold myself together. His eyes were already beginning to flutter shut, a serene smile on his face. “May the Knowing protect you, $name.” I severely hoped that the Knowing would not. [[Next|Gabriel/Platonic Outlands]]“Be the man you want to be,” I urged him. “You don’t owe yourself to anyone.” The more I learned, the more I had to wonder if he had ever done anything for himself. Or was his life one big production for whoever he hoped to impress at the time. “I want to be someone you and the Knowing can be proud of,” he claimed. “That’s all I ever wanted.” Despite me coming first in that list, I had to question who he would actually choose if it came down to it. Hopefully, we wouldn’t see that day. I rubbed at my face, feeling my hands shake. I wasn’t getting through to him. I couldn’t even touch him. I had to get the lights back on and become corporeal again. I simply hoped Belladonna was right and that the two were related. “I’ll be going to the Outlands,” I told him. “But when I get back I’ll check on you. You need to lay low for a while, though. The Velvet Guard is on the hunt for you.” “I am their Warden. They can do very little.” “You are no longer their Warden, Gabriel. They will not follow your rule.” He looked entirely unconcerned with the concept. Unconcerned with everything. Maybe he didn’t understand it. Or simply not believe it. But it was concerning just how quickly his guilt turned back into zealous fervor. Standing, I looked at him, drinking him in. “Get some rest while I’m gone,” I told him, trying to hold myself together. His eyes were already beginning to flutter shut, a serene smile on his face. “May the Knowing protect you, $name.” I severely hoped that the Knowing would not. [[Next|Gabriel/Platonic Outlands]]“I don’t need you to be anyone else,” I told him. “I don’t want a different man. I want you.” His face softened with sincerity. “You will have a better me,” he claimed. “One you can love fully.” There was no getting through to him. I didn’t know if his self worth was so little, or if he had been brainwashed enough to believe that what he presented was the only course left. Maybe it was simply the only way to marry the idea of me and the Knowing. Creating a sick amalgamation of his family and values without compromising on what he wanted. Or admitting that he may have simply been forgotten down here by the very thing he revered most. I rubbed at my face, feeling my hands shake. I wasn’t getting through to him. I couldn’t even touch him. I had to get the lights back on and become corporeal again. I simply hoped Belladonna was right and that the two were related. “I’ll be going to the Outlands,” I told him. “But when I get back I’ll check on you. You need to lay low for a while, though. The Velvet Guard is on the hunt for you.” “I am their Warden. They can do very little.” “You are no longer their Warden, Gabriel. They will not follow your rule.” He looked entirely unconcerned with the concept. Unconcerned with everything. Maybe he didn’t understand it. Or simply not believe it. But it was concerning just how quickly his guilt turned back into zealous fervor. Standing, I looked at him, drinking him in. “Get some rest while I’m gone,” I told him, trying to hold myself together. His eyes were already beginning to flutter shut, a serene smile on his face. “May the Knowing protect you, $name.” I severely hoped that the Knowing would not. [[Next|Gabriel/Platonic Outlands]] There was a weight to the world. An urgency. It was a lingering sensation I felt with each step I took. While my thoughts were consumed with my friends. The people I loved. My body was focused on the world around me. The ones who were dying. The forgotten. I hadn’t known how being alive would feel. But I certainly had not thought it would be like this. This split between what I desired and what my responsibility was. It was getting old fast. A fog had settled over the streets, weaving within the small cracks and fissures of the walls, dipping down across the cobblestones and forming ghostly feet to walk the uneven ground. The simple guise of denizens felt like a spectral hand at the back of my neck as the world around me felt more dead than alive, welcoming in the shadows that had hidden among the light and letting them curl around the city. The pathway to the cathedral had remained oddly clear, however. Most likely due to Belladonna’s influence within the market. At least she still had some foothold here. The other Barons were suspiciously absent. Holed up inside their own districts and ignoring the slowly crumbling decay of the world around them. There was a thinness to the air. It was not the first time I had noticed that the ghosts were moving through the streets more. Haunting the world with blank eyes. It was unclear if they even knew who they were anymore. As yet another specter floated past me, I tried to call out to them. But they didn’t even flinch. Just another memory to dissolve into the night. The cathedral was lit with candles. Their wax dripped from long burned flames to form lazy rivers within the courtyard. The stained glass of Belladonna’s tower was backlit, casting red and blue fractal lights to fall onto the fogless streets. Somehow, the area in which the unfortunate were hunted under a guise of fog, felt like one of the last normal places within the marketplace. Bella stood outside, dressed in a deep red that clung to her form. The doors to the cathedral were closed behind her, sequestering away any of the other vampires under her reign. “How is Gabriel,” she asked. Her eyes kept darting towards the different entrances that led to the courtyard. She looked entirely too on edge for my liking. “Hanging in there,” I said. “He doesn’t seem to understand what is happening to him.” She hummed a little but offered nothing more. “Are you ready to go then?” She was ignoring it. Focusing on the problem she could fix. I understood the sentiment all too well. “What all did you find?” I asked. Very little information had been given to me and the unease in which I was storming into another problem was unsettling. “An indecent amount of solid information,” she told me with a sigh. Irritation creased the corners of her eyes. It had to be bad if she was letting it show. “However, the brewings within the market make me wonder if we have any time to sit and ponder this further.” “Meaning?” She gestured for me to walk with her, the two of us heading down a newly paved street. We headed away from the cathedral and into the dim light of the back garden behind the old church. Belladonna’s voice was low as she spoke. “There are musings that I have found. Ones that claim that the lanterns can be relit. Their light comes from the guiding source. Said source may have been affected when the ritual was performed and the gates were closed.” “Do you think the magic of the ritual knocked everything out?” “It is a viable theory. If the remaining lanterns are unharmed and simply need to be lit, then I think the rest of the lanterns will follow suit. There are several passages that I’ve come across that have stated that the light protects the market and that it draws its source from the five pillars.” “Five lanterns then.” I frowned. I had seen those pages. They were not much to go off of. “Any idea of how to relight them?” “That, I do not know. For all I know they are not out at all. Just blocked. We need to see what state that they are in. And I would assume that with $name being the Night Market, there might be some connection ?they will feel towards these sources. It is not enough to go off of for me to feel comfortable sending you out there, but, I don’t know if we have much more of a choice.” [[You seem anxious]] [[What if I get out there and feel nothing?|What if I get out there and feel nothing 2]] [[Was there any mention at all of the lights going out like this before?|Was there any mention 2]] The stench of vomit was what roused me. The acidity of it clung to the comforter that had haphazardly been thrown over me during the night. Peeling open my eyes I watched as Reese stood over Gabriel’s bed, settling him back down. New sheets had replaced the old ones and the wastebin had been removed. “I’m fine,” Gabriel was muttering. “Yeah? Say it to me again when I don’t have to wash puke off you.” Reese got him lying back before pulling a fresh knitted blanket up over his chest. The shadows had fallen over me just enough that I didn’t think they realized that I was awake. “Here’s how this is goin’ to go, Gabe.” Taking the chair, Reese twirled it around, stradling it so he could face his son. “You are stayin’ in this room until we can figure this damn grace thing out.” “There is nothing wrong with my grace.” “Shut the fuck up. We both know you have piss little of it left.” From the bed, Gabriel stirred, clearly irritated by his adoptive father. “And when your kind has none of it, you get real freaky. I’m not into just sitting by that one, got it?” "I am fine,” Gabriel nearly growled. The tension in the room snapped. I felt it tighten around my chest in a deep clench. “Really?” Reese’s voice was low and challenging. “You just enjoy murder now? New for you.” “It is not murder.” “Blood is on your hands, boy. Intentional blood. Don’t try and tell me what is and is not considered murder.” “Weren’t you the one who taught me that sometimes you do what you have to because of orders? You’re a soldier, Reese. Don’t pretend like you are above me in this.” He laughed lowly, tipping his chair dangerously on its legs. “You want the nightmares I live with? You really gunnin’ for that position?’ “Stop asking me a bunch of questions! I have no desire to do any of this with you. I’ll be leaving once morning comes.” [[Alert them of your presence]] [[Gabriel, you should listen to Reese]] [[You won’t be leaving]] <<set $chapsix to "reese">> Standing, I cleared my throat, looking at the two men. With an ample amount of hesitation, I walked towards the bed, placing myself on the other side of Reese. I was preparing myself all over again for hateful words as Gabriel fought with the image of me. “‘Bout time you got up. Don’t know how you slept through all the puking.” I glanced at Gabriel before turning to Reese. “Is he okay?” Reese rose from his position. “He’ll live. If he does what I fuckin’ say. Which, that is debatable at the moment.” When he turned to Gabriel again, his eyes hardened. “Stop with the shit that this one isn’t real. It’s fuckin’ depressing for both of you.” I blinked at the order. Reese had never been particularly warm to me. I hadn’t quite expected him to be on my side. “$name is real,” he continued. “I don’t want to have to say it a hundred more fuckin’ times. I can see ?them. You can see ?them. Stop with this sinner bullshit. Not under my roof.” The shellshocked expression that was upon Gabriel’s face was the first I had seen in relation to me. Like he was meticulously going back over the last few months and the things he had said to me. The ways he had dismissed my existence. “$name?” His voice was choked with emotion. “Is that… is that you?” His mouth opened and closed, the idea of it rattling around his head in an effort to finally slot the image of me into its rightful place. Gone was the almost desperate attempt to rid me from his memories. Or the accusations that I was a test. A curse. A way for him to fail. For the first time in a long while, I felt like Gabriel was actually seeing me. “I’m out,” Reese said, walking from the room. The door clicked firmly shut behind him. I had prepared myself to be with him past the vulnerability point. Where he thought I was a dream and reverted to seeing me as a demon. Some being sent to torture him for his failures. But there was something different in his face this time. A recognition there that was full of such hope that he clung to it was a tight desperation. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I was at his bedside in two stumbling steps, my hands running through his own. I cursed loudly, still trying to hold onto him. But whatever ability I had been granted before, was gone now. No longer could I touch him. “Gabriel,” I breathed. “It’s you. You actually see me.” “I can’t touch you,” he whimpered. Silver tracked down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “Why can’t I touch you? Are you truly a spirit?” I shook my head. “Not a spirit. I don’t know what I am but I’m not that. Sometimes I can touch. Just not now. Never when I want to, it feels.” His hand twitched on the bed next to mine as his fingers danced out to test the theory. They passed through me like mist, my own skin dissipating as the image of it was disturbed by his own. [[I'm trying to fix myself]] [[We need to talk about what is happening to you]] [[Do you remember what you did]] “Gabriel,” I said, rising from the chair. “You should listen to Reese.” The madness was well and truly upon us. Whatever Gabriel’s justifications were, it would never account for what he did. I had to believe that his grace was gone and that he was slowly falling all over again. “‘Bout time you got up. Don’t know how you slept through all the puking.” I glanced at Gabriel before turning to Reese. “Is he okay?” Reese rose from his position. “He’ll live. If he does what I fuckin’ say. Which, that is debatable at the moment.” When he turned to Gabriel again, his eyes hardened. “Stop with the shit that this one isn’t real. It’s fuckin’ depressing for both of you.” I blinked at the order. Reese had never been particularly warm to me. I hadn’t quite expected him to be on my side. “$name is real,” he continued. “I don’t want to have to say it a hundred more fuckin’ times. I can see ?them. You can see ?them. Stop with this sinner bullshit. Not under my roof.” The shellshocked expression that was upon Gabriel’s face was the first I had seen in relation to me. Like he was meticulously going back over the last few months and the things he had said to me. The ways he had dismissed my existence. “$name?” His voice was choked with emotion. “Is that… is that you?” His mouth opened and closed, the idea of it rattling around his head in an effort to finally slot the image of me into its rightful place. Gone was the almost desperate attempt to rid me from his memories. Or the accusations that I was a test. A curse. A way for him to fail. For the first time in a long while, I felt like Gabriel was actually seeing me. “I’m out,” Reese said, walking from the room. The door clicked firmly shut behind him. I had prepared myself to be with him past the vulnerability point. Where he thought I was a dream and reverted to seeing me as a demon. Some being sent to torture him for his failures. But there was something different in his face this time. A recognition there that was full of such hope that he clung to it was a tight desperation. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I was at his bedside in two stumbling steps, my hands running through his own. I cursed loudly, still trying to hold onto him. But whatever ability I had been granted before, was gone now. No longer could I touch him. “Gabriel,” I breathed. “It’s you. You actually see me.” “I can’t touch you,” he whimpered. Silver tracked down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “Why can’t I touch you? Are you truly a spirit?” I shook my head. “Not a spirit. I don’t know what I am but I’m not that. Sometimes I can touch. Just not now. Never when I want to, it feels.” His hand twitched on the bed next to mine as his fingers danced out to test the theory. They passed through me like mist, my own skin dissipating as the image of it was disturbed by his own. [[I'm trying to fix myself]] [[We need to talk about what is happening to you]] [[Do you remember what you did]] “You won’t be leaving,” I said, my voice filling the room. Both men turned towards me then as I rose from the chair. “‘Bout time you got up. Don’t know how you slept through all the puking.” I glanced at Gabriel before turning to Reese. “Is he okay?” Reese rose from his position. “He’ll live. If he does what I fuckin’ say. Which, that is debatable at the moment.” When he turned to Gabriel again, his eyes hardened. “Stop with the shit that this one isn’t real. It’s fuckin’ depressing for both of you.” I blinked at the order. Reese had never been particularly warm to me. I hadn’t quite expected him to be on my side. “$name is real,” he continued. “I don’t want to have to say it a hundred more fuckin’ times. I can see ?them. You can see ?them. Stop with this sinner bullshit. Not under my roof.” The shellshocked expression that was upon Gabriel’s face was the first I had seen in relation to me. Like he was meticulously going back over the last few months and the things he had said to me. The ways he had dismissed my existence. “$name?” His voice was choked with emotion. “Is that… is that you?” His mouth opened and closed, the idea of it rattling around his head in an effort to finally slot the image of me into its rightful place. Gone was the almost desperate attempt to rid me from his memories. Or the accusations that I was a test. A curse. A way for him to fail. For the first time in a long while, I felt like Gabriel was actually seeing me. “I’m out,” Reese said, walking from the room. The door clicked firmly shut behind him. I had prepared myself to be with him past the vulnerability point. Where he thought I was a dream and reverted to seeing me as a demon. Some being sent to torture him for his failures. But there was something different in his face this time. A recognition there that was full of such hope that he clung to it was a tight desperation. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. I was at his bedside in two stumbling steps, my hands running through his own. I cursed loudly, still trying to hold onto him. But whatever ability I had been granted before, was gone now. No longer could I touch him. “Gabriel,” I breathed. “It’s you. You actually see me.” “I can’t touch you,” he whimpered. Silver tracked down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. “Why can’t I touch you? Are you truly a spirit?” I shook my head. “Not a spirit. I don’t know what I am but I’m not that. Sometimes I can touch. Just not now. Never when I want to, it feels.” His hand twitched on the bed next to mine as his fingers danced out to test the theory. They passed through me like mist, my own skin dissipating as the image of it was disturbed by his own. [[I'm trying to fix myself]] [[We need to talk about what is happening to you]] [[Do you remember what you did]] I hadn’t been asleep for very long when I woke to a strange sound coming from the kitchen. It was a muffled thud followed very quickly by a shout. At some point, I had wandered back to Malcolm’s bed and fallen asleep but with the new sound I was jumping up and rushing into the kitchen. Milo was sitting on the floor, back to the cabinets, sweat pouring down his face. “Milo?” He startled at the sound of my voice and I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he scrambled back from me. Blinking through the sweat that fell across his vision, he seemed to calm. “I was dreaming,” he stated, more for himself. “You screamed. Is everything okay?” I was looking around the room, trying to find the perpetrator. “I dreamed that you tore my chest open while saying horrible things.” I whipped my attention back at him. “Ironic, yeah?” Slowly, I made my way towards him, coming to sit in the kitchen. His body was a mess of sprawled limbs but I could see a wild reflection in his eyes. As if he were still waking up from a dream. “Are you scared of me?” he asked. [[Sometimes]] [[I was]] [[Not really|Not really 2]] “Sometimes,” I told him honestly. “When I am, it blindsides me. It’ll be these little moments that I don’t quite see coming and I’ll have a flashback of what you did. My mind will tell me that you are doing it all again. That this is some sort of game.” Across from me, he shifted a little, sitting in the brutal rawness of my words. “I understand,” he acknowledged. “If you need to, just tell me to go to the other side of the room or something when that happens. Or tell me to leave. I’ll go until you feel safe to have me around again.” I smiled at him softly. “You don’t need to do that. The only way to get over this kind of fear is to expose myself to it. Besides, you are my Gatekeeper. I can’t always send you away.” He pushed his sweaty curls from his face, his eyes flicking around the room. I noticed he still had a problem looking at me. “I don’t think I’m really good at this, you know. Being your Gatekeeper. When I first got the job, I almost treated it like a joke. It felt like something to kind of give the middle finger to. And then when I realized that it might actually be something to take seriously, I think it was too late.” “I don’t know if it's ever too late to do something right,” I told him. It was a sentiment he clearly did not believe. “I’m struggling with understanding my place in your life,” he confessed. “I know that I don’t have any right to ask but I’m terrified I’m going to be stepping over some sort of line. Again.” Slowly, I took him in. He clenched his hands together to try and hide the shaking and inch by inch he was curling into himself. “Milo, what was that dream?” I asked, keeping my voice soft. “I told you.” Glancing towards the living room, I saw signs of the blanket that had been over him. The pillow that had rested under his head. “But you are on the kitchen floor. Not on the couch.” “I–” He frowned. “I didn’t realize I was sleeping. I got up to find something to drink and then I felt a door open. Channeled my magic into it. I– I must have passed out.” “Does that happen often?” “When the world tries to force another gate open and I have to try to stop it from ripping through my spell, yeah.” I tipped my head to the side. There was something in the way he spoke. It wasn’t like the others I had encountered. It wasn’t like my previous Gatekeepers either. “You don’t view me as the Night Market, do you.” His head shot up, eyes a little wide as he realized his words. “No. Not really.” “Have you ever?” “I think once. Back when I thought you would be a rock. Or when I thought you were deceiving me somehow.” “And even though you didn’t see me as part of the market, you were able to do what you did at the ball?” It was clear the questions were making him uncomfortable. But, after so long of hiding behind a facade, the raw skin beneath was going to have to be exposed to the bright light of the sun. “It’s hard for me to explain,” he said. I was patient, giving him a moment to gather his words. Almost surprised he was actually trying. “I see you as $name. Not the Night Market. In fact, I kind of hate that you are the Night Market. You’re so much more than that but with such a name attached it’s like it just kind of negates everything else you could be.” “You think being a cosmic entity is not enough of a descriptor?” “Yes! You’re bright and passionate and vibrant. You are a wonderful dance partner. You light up a room. Make me laugh. You are more than this faceless blob of a world we all live on. But at the same time, I– I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m the Gatekeeper but I have this almost unshakable allegiance to the Night Market as a whole. I look at you, I know what you are, but I want to give you more of a life. Yet, at the same time, I was willing to dissolve that life so the world could live. It felt like breathing. Like if I chose not to do that, I was going to suffocate. I don’t know if any of that even makes sense but there it is.” [[Sometimes if feels like you are trying to justify your actions]] [[It makes sense]] [[I’m glad that you see me as me]] “I was,” I admitted to him. “There was a time I didn’t really know what to think of you. Or what you did. It was confusing. Understanding why you did something and also feeling like you had betrayed me. I think back on that moment and still only feel the confusion and the fear.” His eyes ticked away. “What changed?” I curled my legs beneath me, sitting merely an arms length away. “Being around you again. I built up this monster in my head and then I spent some time in the same space as you and realized that you weren’t that. That you were also hurting. And I just didn’t want to be that person who lashed out because they were hurt. And I’m hoping you don’t want to be that person either.” I ducked down, catching his eyes. Asking him what he wanted to be. He swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you either.” He pushed his sweaty curls from his face, his eyes flicking around the room. I noticed he still had a problem looking at me. “I don’t think I’m really good at this, you know. Being your Gatekeeper. When I first got the job, I almost treated it like a joke. It felt like something to kind of give the middle finger to. And then when I realized that it might actually be something to take seriously, I think it was too late.” “I don’t know if it's ever too late to do something right,” I told him. It was a sentiment he clearly did not believe. “I’m struggling with understanding my place in your life,” he confessed. “I know that I don’t have any right to ask but I’m terrified I’m going to be stepping over some sort of line. Again.” Slowly, I took him in. He clenched his hands together to try and hide the shaking and inch by inch he was curling into himself. “Milo, what was that dream?” I asked, keeping my voice soft. “I told you.” Glancing towards the living room, I saw signs of the blanket that had been over him. The pillow that had rested under his head. “But you are on the kitchen floor. Not on the couch.” “I–” He frowned. “I didn’t realize I was sleeping. I got up to find something to drink and then I felt a door open. Channeled my magic into it. I– I must have passed out.” “Does that happen often?” “When the world tries to force another gate open and I have to try to stop it from ripping through my spell, yeah.” I tipped my head to the side. There was something in the way he spoke. It wasn’t like the others I had encountered. It wasn’t like my previous Gatekeepers either. “You don’t view me as the Night Market, do you.” His head shot up, eyes a little wide as he realized his words. “No. Not really.” “Have you ever?” “I think once. Back when I thought you would be a rock. Or when I thought you were deceiving me somehow.” “And even though you didn’t see me as part of the market, you were able to do what you did at the ball?” It was clear the questions were making him uncomfortable. But, after so long of hiding behind a facade, the raw skin beneath was going to have to be exposed to the bright light of the sun. “It’s hard for me to explain,” he said. I was patient, giving him a moment to gather his words. Almost surprised he was actually trying. “I see you as $name. Not the Night Market. In fact, I kind of hate that you are the Night Market. You’re so much more than that but with such a name attached it’s like it just kind of negates everything else you could be.” “You think being a cosmic entity is not enough of a descriptor?” “Yes! You’re bright and passionate and vibrant. You are a wonderful dance partner. You light up a room. Make me laugh. You are more than this faceless blob of a world we all live on. But at the same time, I– I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m the Gatekeeper but I have this almost unshakable allegiance to the Night Market as a whole. I look at you, I know what you are, but I want to give you more of a life. Yet, at the same time, I was willing to dissolve that life so the world could live. It felt like breathing. Like if I chose not to do that, I was going to suffocate. I don’t know if any of that even makes sense but there it is.” [[Sometimes if feels like you are trying to justify your actions]] [[It makes sense]] [[I’m glad that you see me as me]] “Not really,” I told him with a small shrug. There hadn’t been a time that I had ever felt mounting fear with Milo. Just a vague sense of sadness. “What happened all feels a bit strange now. I didn't like it. But I’m not scared of you. I don’t think you’re going to corner me and do it again.” He pushed his sweaty curls from his face, his eyes flicking around the room. I noticed he still had a problem looking at me. “I don’t think I’m really good at this, you know. Being your Gatekeeper. When I first got the job, I almost treated it like a joke. It felt like something to kind of give the middle finger to. And then when I realized that it might actually be something to take seriously, I think it was too late.” “I don’t know if it's ever too late to do something right,” I told him. It was a sentiment he clearly did not believe. “I’m struggling with understanding my place in your life,” he confessed. “I know that I don’t have any right to ask but I’m terrified I’m going to be stepping over some sort of line. Again.” Slowly, I took him in. He clenched his hands together to try and hide the shaking and inch by inch he was curling into himself. “Milo, what was that dream?” I asked, keeping my voice soft. “I told you.” Glancing towards the living room, I saw signs of the blanket that had been over him. The pillow that had rested under his head. “But you are on the kitchen floor. Not on the couch.” “I–” He frowned. “I didn’t realize I was sleeping. I got up to find something to drink and then I felt a door open. Channeled my magic into it. I– I must have passed out.” “Does that happen often?” “When the world tries to force another gate open and I have to try to stop it from ripping through my spell, yeah.” I tipped my head to the side. There was something in the way he spoke. It wasn’t like the others I had encountered. It wasn’t like my previous Gatekeepers either. “You don’t view me as the Night Market, do you.” His head shot up, eyes a little wide as he realized his words. “No. Not really.” “Have you ever?” “I think once. Back when I thought you would be a rock. Or when I thought you were deceiving me somehow.” “And even though you didn’t see me as part of the market, you were able to do what you did at the ball?” It was clear the questions were making him uncomfortable. But, after so long of hiding behind a facade, the raw skin beneath was going to have to be exposed to the bright light of the sun. “It’s hard for me to explain,” he said. I was patient, giving him a moment to gather his words. Almost surprised he was actually trying. “I see you as $name. Not the Night Market. In fact, I kind of hate that you are the Night Market. You’re so much more than that but with such a name attached it’s like it just kind of negates everything else you could be.” “You think being a cosmic entity is not enough of a descriptor?” “Yes! You’re bright and passionate and vibrant. You are a wonderful dance partner. You light up a room. Make me laugh. You are more than this faceless blob of a world we all live on. But at the same time, I– I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m the Gatekeeper but I have this almost unshakable allegiance to the Night Market as a whole. I look at you, I know what you are, but I want to give you more of a life. Yet, at the same time, I was willing to dissolve that life so the world could live. It felt like breathing. Like if I chose not to do that, I was going to suffocate. I don’t know if any of that even makes sense but there it is.” [[Sometimes if feels like you are trying to justify your actions]] [[It makes sense]] [[I’m glad that you see me as me]] “Sometimes,” I told him. “It feels like you are trying to justify your actions.” “Of course I am! I need to make sense of them.” “What if there is no sense to them?” I asked. “What if this is just a decision you made and this is the fallout. There is not rhyme or reason to any of it. Just a single moment where you made a choice and it wasn’t the one that you liked in the end.” He banged his head back against the counter. “No fate,” he said. “Just me. And chaos.” “Yes.” “That makes me a bad person,” he told me. Then, shaking his head, he sighed. “Which, arguably, yeah. Guess I am.” Running a hand across his face, he seemed to shove this notion down, locking it away with everything else he would examine later. “That allegiance that you say you have,” I started. “Is it compelling somehow?” “A little. I can fight against it but at the same time I can’t. I do what I’m supposed to, I guess. I don’t know if it’s like that for the other Barons. Might need to ask Belladonna about that.” “It’s doubtful,” I told him. “Otherwise I think it would have been much easier to see all of them.” “It kind of was.” I paused. The events of the Barons had been such a trainwreck that I hadn’t actually given thought to it. I had met nearly all of them in the course of a few months. Most people went their entire lives seeking audiences with the Barons and getting nowhere. I went through some hoops but not as many as I had originally thought. “Hindsights a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing at his chest. “And I might be as well.” Standing, he held out his hand, ready to pull me to my feet. But the spell from before had flickered out. I knew before even reaching for him that my hand would pass through him. “I hate this.” I looked at my hand. The translucent texture of my skin. “We’ll fix it.” I didn’t know how. We didn’t even know how this had happened. Just that I flickered on and off like some stupid sort of candle. “Hey, $name?” he ducked his head down, looking at me through his lashes. “We will fix this. I promise.” It was the spell of Milo Next. The way he could make you believe that the world was something only the two of us shared. It was so easy to fall into those eyes. To let his words wrap around me. When he turned away, I realized the same could be said for him as well. There was a tap on the front door that gathered both our attention. Milo motioned for me to stay back as he walked up, opening the heavy iron of Malcolm’s door. A small pixie stood in the midst of the doorway, brightening upon seeing Milo. “Friend shape!” Milo grinned, placing a hand on his hip. “Well if it isn’t Ola. How’s the family?” “Friend shape!” she repeated, flitting about excitedly. Dust sprinkled from her wings, lying in a film of fine glitter across Milo’s skin. I took that as the cue to walk forward. There was a small scroll tied to the pixies leg in which Milo was trying to reach for. She kept bouncing around to the point where catching her became a game. Milo didn’t seem disturbed by it as he followed her with his eyes, occasionally snatching at air as he tried to reach her. When he did get a hold of her, it was with a delicate hand. The scroll dropped into his palm immediately and somehow, a coin appeared on her leg. I hadn’t even seen Milo do it. “Try to get some rest, Ola. I know you’ve been working three or four jobs.” Ola cackled. “You just want me to stop reading your mail!” She bowed to Milo, kissing his nose, before flying off. Milo just shook his head and shut the door, turning to me. [[Old girlfriend?]] [[How did they know you were here?]] [[We need to get a better mailing system]] “It makes sense,” I told him. “I mean, maybe it wouldn’t make sense to someone that isn’t also going through a gambit of emotions but I do get it in a way.” He laughed wryly. “You have any wisdom you can impart on me then because it’s drivin’ me absolutely mad.” I thought about it for a minute. Trying to think how to put it into words that Milo would believe. “Despite all your posturing, you know the difference between right and wrong. And in this situation, your heart and your mind were on different sides of that line. Both of them were options you could see reason within. But neither were a good choice for you personally.” Milo banged his head back against the counters, smiling bitterly. “Right,” he said. “And you are the one who suffered for it.” “Milo, it was either me. Or the rest of the Night Market.” “There should have been a third option,” he protested. “There should have been… something.” The anger that bolted from the crack in his voice shook through the room. It was going to be a decision he would wage war upon until the day he died. “That allegiance that you say you have,” I started. “Is it compelling somehow?” “A little. I can fight against it but at the same time I can’t. I do what I’m supposed to, I guess. I don’t know if it’s like that for the other Barons. Might need to ask Belladonna about that.” “It’s doubtful,” I told him. “Otherwise I think it would have been much easier to see all of them.” “It kind of was.” I paused. The events of the Barons had been such a trainwreck that I hadn’t actually given thought to it. I had met nearly all of them in the course of a few months. Most people went their entire lives seeking audiences with the Barons and getting nowhere. I went through some hoops but not as many as I had originally thought. “Hindsights a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing at his chest. “And I might be as well.” Standing, he held out his hand, ready to pull me to my feet. But the spell from before had flickered out. I knew before even reaching for him that my hand would pass through him. “I hate this.” I looked at my hand. The translucent texture of my skin. “We’ll fix it.” I didn’t know how. We didn’t even know how this had happened. Just that I flickered on and off like some stupid sort of candle. “Hey, $name?” he ducked his head down, looking at me through his lashes. “We will fix this. I promise.” It was the spell of Milo Next. The way he could make you believe that the world was something only the two of us shared. It was so easy to fall into those eyes. To let his words wrap around me. When he turned away, I realized the same could be said for him as well. There was a tap on the front door that gathered both our attention. Milo motioned for me to stay back as he walked up, opening the heavy iron of Malcolm’s door. A small pixie stood in the midst of the doorway, brightening upon seeing Milo. “Friend shape!” Milo grinned, placing a hand on his hip. “Well if it isn’t Ola. How’s the family?” “Friend shape!” she repeated, flitting about excitedly. Dust sprinkled from her wings, lying in a film of fine glitter across Milo’s skin. I took that as the cue to walk forward. There was a small scroll tied to the pixies leg in which Milo was trying to reach for. She kept bouncing around to the point where catching her became a game. Milo didn’t seem disturbed by it as he followed her with his eyes, occasionally snatching at air as he tried to reach her. When he did get a hold of her, it was with a delicate hand. The scroll dropped into his palm immediately and somehow, a coin appeared on her leg. I hadn’t even seen Milo do it. “Try to get some rest, Ola. I know you’ve been working three or four jobs.” Ola cackled. “You just want me to stop reading your mail!” She bowed to Milo, kissing his nose, before flying off. Milo just shook his head and shut the door, turning to me. [[Old girlfriend?]] [[How did they know you were here?]] [[We need to get a better mailing system]] “I’m actually glad that you see me as me,” I told him softly. He tipped his head to the side. “That’s what you took away from that?” “It’s kind of important,” I pointed out. It was true. I had wanted so desperately to be seen as an individual. I was envious of the people who had these lives removed from a higher purpose. The ones who just got to be the destiny they had chosen for themselves. For Milo to see me as $name and not the cosmic force of the world he walked upon, was validating in a way. He relaxed a little at my words, his body slowly coming down from his dream. “That allegiance that you say you have,” I started. “Is it compelling somehow?” “A little. I can fight against it but at the same time I can’t. I do what I’m supposed to, I guess. I don’t know if it’s like that for the other Barons. Might need to ask Belladonna about that.” “It’s doubtful,” I told him. “Otherwise I think it would have been much easier to see all of them.” “It kind of was.” I paused. The events of the Barons had been such a trainwreck that I hadn’t actually given thought to it. I had met nearly all of them in the course of a few months. Most people went their entire lives seeking audiences with the Barons and getting nowhere. I went through some hoops but not as many as I had originally thought. “Hindsights a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing at his chest. “And I might be as well.” Standing, he held out his hand, ready to pull me to my feet. But the spell from before had flickered out. I knew before even reaching for him that my hand would pass through him. “I hate this.” I looked at my hand. The translucent texture of my skin. “We’ll fix it.” I didn’t know how. We didn’t even know how this had happened. Just that I flickered on and off like some stupid sort of candle. “Hey, $name?” he ducked his head down, looking at me through his lashes. “We will fix this. I promise.” It was the spell of Milo Next. The way he could make you believe that the world was something only the two of us shared. It was so easy to fall into those eyes. To let his words wrap around me. When he turned away, I realized the same could be said for him as well. There was a tap on the front door that gathered both our attention. Milo motioned for me to stay back as he walked up, opening the heavy iron of Malcolm’s door. A small pixie stood in the midst of the doorway, brightening upon seeing Milo. “Friend shape!” Milo grinned, placing a hand on his hip. “Well if it isn’t Ola. How’s the family?” “Friend shape!” she repeated, flitting about excitedly. Dust sprinkled from her wings, lying in a film of fine glitter across Milo’s skin. I took that as the cue to walk forward. There was a small scroll tied to the pixies leg in which Milo was trying to reach for. She kept bouncing around to the point where catching her became a game. Milo didn’t seem disturbed by it as he followed her with his eyes, occasionally snatching at air as he tried to reach her. When he did get a hold of her, it was with a delicate hand. The scroll dropped into his palm immediately and somehow, a coin appeared on her leg. I hadn’t even seen Milo do it. “Try to get some rest, Ola. I know you’ve been working three or four jobs.” Ola cackled. “You just want me to stop reading your mail!” She bowed to Milo, kissing his nose, before flying off. Milo just shook his head and shut the door, turning to me. [[Old girlfriend?]] [[How did they know you were here?]] [[We need to get a better mailing system]] “Old girlfriend?” I teased. Milo snorted a little, that familiar warm curl tilting the corners of his lips. “You mock me but pixies are something else in the sack.” “Wait. Have you… no you haven’t.” He winked at me, holding the scroll out. “It’s for you, darlin’. I’d say Ms. Pixie out there was seeking you out. Not me.” Taking the scroll, I rolled it around in my hand for a moment, feeling the lace of the ribbon scratch against my palm. With a gentle tug, I untied it, letting it unravel. Belladonna’s loopy scrawl was instantly recognizable. ''Meet me outside the Cathedral. You will be going to the Outlands today'' I glanced up at Milo. He had already seen the message, having read it over my shoulder. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.” The door to the back garden opened as Malcolm walked inside. A soft amount of pink light filtered through, highlighting the toned arms of the man before me. “Did you answer my door?” he asked with a frown. Milo gestured wildly at the note in my hand. “Belladonna wants $name to go to the Outlands. That is not happening.” It wasn’t that Malcolm didn’t believe Milo. It was just that Milo had a tendency for the dramatics. So, when he walked towards me, I handed him the note without a word, letting him take a look at it himself. It didn’t offer much of anything but I had to trust that Belladonna wasn’t just sending me on a wild goose chase. “I wonder if she found something about the lanterns,” I mused. Malcolm’s eyes scanned over the words, tracing the brush strokes with an artist's eye. “Maybe a way to turn them back on.” “$name is not going!” [[What is so horrid about the Outlands?]] [[Milo, you don't get to make that decision]] [[If it has to do with the lanterns I am]] “How did they know you were here?” I asked. Milo, as far as I knew, had never been one to even have lived with Malcolm. There was an unsettling bit to this fact that made me wonder just how many eyes had been on Milo and for how long. “They always find me. I’m now kind of assuming it's a fae thing. But,” he held out the scroll. “It’s not for me.” The scroll was addressed to me. The question now became, how did they find out where I was. Because I certainly was not fae. Taking the scroll, I rolled it around in my hand for a moment, feeling the lace of the ribbon scratch against my palm. With a gentle tug, I untied it, letting it unravel. Belladonna’s loopy scrawl was instantly recognizable. ''Meet me outside the Cathedral. You will be going to the Outlands today'' I glanced up at Milo. He had already seen the message, having read it over my shoulder. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.” The door to the back garden opened as Malcolm walked inside. A soft amount of pink light filtered through, highlighting the toned arms of the man before me. “Did you answer my door?” he asked with a frown. Milo gestured wildly at the note in my hand. “Belladonna wants $name to go to the Outlands. That is not happening.” It wasn’t that Malcolm didn’t believe Milo. It was just that Milo had a tendency for the dramatics. So, when he walked towards me, I handed him the note without a word, letting him take a look at it himself. It didn’t offer much of anything but I had to trust that Belladonna wasn’t just sending me on a wild goose chase. “I wonder if she found something about the lanterns,” I mused. Malcolm’s eyes scanned over the words, tracing the brush strokes with an artist's eye. “Maybe a way to turn them back on.” “$name is not going!” [[What is so horrid about the Outlands?]] [[Milo, you don't get to make that decision]] [[If it has to do with the lanterns I am]] “We need to get a better mailing system,” I muttered. Pixies were fast, but they were a bit unreliable. All it took was one good glare and they’d burn an individual’s postage right in front of the recipient's eyes. “Huh,” Milo muttered, coming back to my side. “The scroll is addressed to you.” It had grown bigger in his hand the longer he held it, finally settling on a standard roll of parchment. “Wonder how they knew you were here,” he frowned, glancing around Malcolm’s apartment suspiciously. “Didn’t think you and Mal’s was common knowledge. You come here often?” I raised a brow towards him as I took the scroll. “Me and Mal?” “Spendin’ a lot of time with him,” he muttered under his breath. “What’s the scroll say?” I stared at him for a moment, trying to sort out what the hell that was all about. But I decided that I didn’t have the capacity for that at the moment. Instead, I untied the ribbon around the scroll and let it fall open. Belladonna’s loopy scrawl was instantly recognizable. ''Meet me outside the Cathedral. You will be going to the Outlands today'' I glanced up at Milo. He had already seen the message, having read it over my shoulder. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not.” The door to the back garden opened as Malcolm walked inside. A soft amount of pink light filtered through, highlighting the toned arms of the man before me. “Did you answer my door?” he asked with a frown. Milo gestured wildly at the note in my hand. “Belladonna wants $name to go to the Outlands. That is not happening.” It wasn’t that Malcolm didn’t believe Milo. It was just that Milo had a tendency for the dramatics. So, when he walked towards me, I handed him the note without a word, letting him take a look at it himself. It didn’t offer much of anything but I had to trust that Belladonna wasn’t just sending me on a wild goose chase. “I wonder if she found something about the lanterns,” I mused. Malcolm’s eyes scanned over the words, tracing the brush strokes with an artist's eye. “Maybe a way to turn them back on.” “$name is not going!” [[What is so horrid about the Outlands?]] [[Milo, you don't get to make that decision]] [[If it has to do with the lanterns I am]] I frowned at the sudden reaction. We had been having a mild mannered conversation up until the Outlands were mentioned. I couldn’t figure out what had changed. “What exactly is so horrid about the Outlands?” Kimber, in fact, had the side of her cafe facing out towards the darkened escape. “Everything,” Milo hissed. “There are walls around the market for a reason. It’s the dry version of the Deep, practically.” “I’d argue its actually worse,” Malcolm muttered. “It’s the Outlands, $name. You cannot just waltz out there,” Milo was continuing to protest. “The planes are littered with lost corpses.” “Why have you been to the Outlands?” Malcolm asked. “To try and find answers. I was out there for an entire moon, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with the lanterns.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a jagged and nasty scar. “A two headed something nearly took off my arm. Me. Someone who can fight. What is $name supposed to do out there?” “Okay, I resent that,” I told him. He sighed a little, beginning to pace in irritation. “Belladonna can’t just send you out there. Not alone. I’ll be coming with you. Whatever stupid mission this is, I’ll spearhead it. Make sure that you’re safe.” [[I’d like that]] [[Let’s just talk to Belladonna]] [[You’re going to need to stay here]] “Milo, you don’t get to make that decision,” I told him. There had been a tendency to just decide things for me. All of them had been at fault for it. The old pattern was one I hadn’t expected Milo to fall back into so quickly. “$name, this isn’t a discussion,” he told me. “You’re right. It’s not. It’s something I will be finding out more information on and making a decision from there. You are not going to have a say in this.” “It’s the Outlands, $name. You cannot just waltz out there,” Milo was continuing to protest. “The planes are littered with lost corpses.” “Why have you been to the Outlands?” Malcolm asked. “To try and find answers. I was out there for an entire moon, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with the lanterns.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a jagged and nasty scar. “A two headed something nearly took off my arm. Me. Someone who can fight. What is $name supposed to do out there?” “Okay, I resent that,” I told him. He sighed a little, beginning to pace in irritation. “Belladonna can’t just send you out there. Not alone. I’ll be coming with you. Whatever stupid mission this is, I’ll spearhead it. Make sure that you’re safe.” [[I’d like that]] [[Let’s just talk to Belladonna]] [[You’re going to need to stay here]] “If it has to do with the lanterns, I absolutely am,” I told him, firmly. Our number one priority needed to be to get the lanterns back on. Even if it did nothing for my own well being, the people within the market were suffering without the warmth of the light. This world that I had worked so hard to foster was now living in fear. The people in it dying. The guard was corrupt. The Baron’s were mostly absent. The rules were constructed to help no one. I didn’t know what to do with any of it. But if I could start with the lights, then maybe a path would become clear. “It’s the Outlands, $name. You cannot just waltz out there,” Milo was continuing to protest. “The planes are littered with lost corpses.” “Why have you been to the Outlands?” Malcolm asked. “To try and find answers. I was out there for an entire moon, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with the lanterns.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a jagged and nasty scar. “A two headed something nearly took off my arm. Me. Someone who can fight. What is $name supposed to do out there?” “Okay, I resent that,” I told him. He sighed a little, beginning to pace in irritation. “Belladonna can’t just send you out there. Not alone. I’ll be coming with you. Whatever stupid mission this is, I’ll spearhead it. Make sure that you’re safe.” [[I’d like that]] [[Let’s just talk to Belladonna]] [[You’re going to need to stay here]] “I’d like that,” I told him gently. Maybe it would give us some much needed time. Plus, the look on Milo’s face as I made it known that I still wanted him around, was a soothing balm. I could slowly see his guard being let down. “As much as I want to support the two of you with this,” Malcolm started, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid we need to look at some of this a bit more logically. We cannot just be sending out the Gatekeeper and the Night Market on a reconnaissance mission to the Outlands. I suspect that eventually you’ll both have to go out there but if this is more of an information gathering operation, then we are going to need to take a step back and not put all our eggs in one basket.” Milo quirked a brow at Malcolm. “Right. But respectfully, I don’t care what you think.” “You’ve always made that clear, Button. I get it. But, you won’t be going. It’s not safe. It’s not smart. And in the end, I doubt many others are ready to trust you with $name ‘s life at the moment. So, I’ll be going.” “Fuck you, Mal. If I don’t get to make the decision, you don’t get to make the decision.” I sighed. Clearly, I knew where this was going. “How about we both go to Belladonna and figure out what’s actually going on before the two of you do whatever this is.” Malcolm nodded. “Agreed.” When he turned to walk away, I spot Milo sneering at his back. “Agreed,” he mocked, arms crossed in front of his chest. [[I’ll come back]] [[Are you jealous?]] [[Milo, don’t start]] “Let’s just talk to Belladonna,” I reasoned with them. “All we have right now is a note delivered by a pixie. That doesn’t give us much to go on. Before I even agree to go to the Outlands, I would like to know what she has planned.” Malcolm nodded. “That’s fair, actually.” “Stay out of it, Mal. $name doesn’t need a cheer squad validating each move.” Malcolm rolled his eyes at Milo, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Fine, I’ll say what I actually think then. I don’t think you should go. You are Gatekeeper. That means, you don’t get to just do whatever you want. You have to do what’s best for the Night Market. And I’m sorry, you as some sort of protection out in the Outlands? Forgive me if that isn’t going to sit really well seeing as your track record with ?their life is a little shaky. I’ll be going out there over you. At least I have $name’s interest at heart.” “Do you?” Milo asked. “Or are you just interested in making sure that I remain crawling for forgiveness?” I sighed. Clearly, I knew where this was going. “How about we both go to Belladonna and figure out what’s actually going on before the two of you do whatever this is.” Malcolm nodded. “Agreed.” When he turned to walk away, I spotted Milo sneering at his back. “Agreed,” he mocked, arms crossed in front of his chest. [[I’ll come back]] [[Are you jealous?]] [[Milo, don’t start]] “You are going to stay here,” I told him. When he turned to fight with me, Malcolm stepped forward, standing next to me. “Button, listen before you go shouting at ?them.” His mouth snapped shut, the anger in his eyes now lit for Malcolm. But, he did turn to me expectantly. It took everything in him not to just start shouting. “You are the Gatekeeper,” I told him. “I don’t need you dying out there and the job jumping to someone that lives in the middle of nowhere. On top of all of that, if something goes wrong here while I’m gone, you are one of the only people who can do something about it.” “There is nothing I can–” “You can and will open the gates,” I told him. “Get everyone to safety. Even if it tears me apart.” Malcolm frowned at that. “I caution you to think we should go that far.” “Same,” Milo said. “It’s a bullshit argument. Mal even says so.” “I didn’t say that.” Malcolm took the scroll, looking it over more thoroughly. It still offered nothing but Bella’s handwriting. “I don’t think we should resort to opening any gates if things get bad,” Malcolm said. “Especially at the expense of $name. But, I do think $name is right. A Gatekeeper cannot just go out there. We cannot have the Night Market and one of the most valuable Baron’s, out there at the same time. So, I’ll go.” “Fuck you, Mal. If I don’t get to make the decision, you don’t get to make the decision.” I sighed. Clearly, I knew where this was going. “How about we both go to Belladonna and figure out what’s actually going on before the two of you do whatever this is.” Malcolm nodded. “Agreed.” When he turned to walk away, I spot Milo sneering at his back. “Agreed,” he mocked, arms crossed in front of his chest. [[I’ll come back]] [[Are you jealous?]] [[Milo, don’t start]] “Milo,” I started gently. “I’ll come back.” His body was rigid as he stared at me in an effort to deny that he might be scared. But I watched as he made the decision to not hide it. To talk to me instead. “I’m worried you won’t,” he told me. “Is it that bad out there?” Something had to have scared him. Something more than he was telling me. “I don’t like it, that’s for certain. I don’t have good memories there. Don’t know anyone who does. And the things crawling around out there are practically unknown. Hard to see. I’m not sure how you’re supposed to defend yourself against what’s out there and I don’t like the idea of you figuring it out in the moment.” “Fair,” I told him. “That is absolutely fair of you to bring up. Thank you for doing so.” Milo took a step forward, then stopped himself. Taking a deep breath, I watched as his jaw slowly unclenched. “Promise me you just won’t go out there alone,” he said. Fear. Milo was controlled by fear. The fear of losing someone. The fear of not being there to help. I sighed. “I won’t go out there alone.” “Thank you,” he said. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nodded to himself, resigning himself for whatever was to come. “I’ll wait outside for you two,” he said. When he slipped out the door, I watched as he pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and the lighter from his pocket. “I’m sorry.” Whipping around, I saw Malcolm there. He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a pair of dark sweats and a green shirt. “I disrespected your feelings just now by claiming I was going to go. I should have asked you. I’m sorry.” [[It’s okay]] [[You both are guilty of putting me in the middle of that]] [[It’s kind of funny to see him get jealous]] “Are you jealous?” I asked. It was an interesting little development that I had noticed. Any time Malcolm was in the room, Milo got aggressive. His chest puffed up and he shot down any sort of nicety that Malcolm may have shot my way. For some reason, Malcolm set his blood to boil by existing. And now, I was starting to figure out why. “Jealous? Of Mal? Yeah. I’m real jealous of the guy who has to alphabetize his spices or else he goes into a rage. He’s a winner, that one.” I blinked. “Yeah. But are you?” “Damn it, $name. Don’t start this Malcolm Albright thing with me. It’s always Malcolm Albright this. Malcolm Albright that. I’m so sick of his stupid name.” “Wow,” I whistled out. Jealousy was definitely coloring his words harshly. And he knew it. He couldn’t even say no to the accusation. Milo took a step forward, then stopped himself. Taking a deep breath, I watched as his jaw slowly unclenched. “Promise me you just won’t go out there alone,” he said. Fear. Milo was controlled by fear. The fear of losing someone. The fear of not being there to help. I sighed. “I won’t go out there alone.” “Thank you,” he said. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nodded to himself, resigning himself for whatever was to come. “I’ll wait outside for you two,” he said. When he slipped out the door, I watched as he pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and the lighter from his pocket. “I’m sorry.” Whipping around, I saw Malcolm there. He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a pair of dark sweats and a green shirt. “I disrespected your feelings just now by claiming I was going to go. I should have asked you. I’m sorry.” [[It’s okay]] [[You both are guilty of putting me in the middle of that]] [[It’s kind of funny to see him get jealous]] “Milo,” I chastised. “Don’t start.” “He started it,” Milo hissed. “So, I’ll go. What the hell is that? That’s him being a dick, that’s what.” Agitation rolled off of him in waves. I was positive that Malcolm would be able to hear him from the bedroom. “You don’t have to rise to the bait.” If it was even bait at all. “And he doesn’t have to be an asshole.” Putting my hands in the air, I shook my head. “I’m not doing this with the two of you. Figure it out or don’t. Either way, I’m going to Belladonna to get more information. Then the decision will be made about who is coming with me.” Milo took a step forward, then stopped himself. Taking a deep breath, I watched as his jaw slowly unclenched. “Promise me you just won’t go out there alone,” he said. Fear. Milo was controlled by fear. The fear of losing someone. The fear of not being there to help. I sighed. “I won’t go out there alone.” “Thank you,” he said. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nodded to himself, resigning himself for whatever was to come. “I’ll wait outside for you two,” he said. When he slipped out the door, I watched as he pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and the lighter from his pocket. “I’m sorry.” Whipping around, I saw Malcolm there. He was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a pair of dark sweats and a green shirt. “I disrespected your feelings just now by claiming I was going to go. I should have asked you. I’m sorry.” [[It’s okay]] [[You both are guilty of putting me in the middle of that]] [[It’s kind of funny to see him get jealous]] “It’s okay,” I told him, brushing the last few moments off as best I could. Malcolm reached for me. When his fingers touched my own, I nearly jumped. It was odd to feel contact so freely. Why he was one of the only ones who could do it I would never understand. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Even if you think it’s okay, I don’t. I can see that now. I’m very very sorry.” I looked down at our fingers, marveling at how easy it was for that to be taken away. I just wanted anonymity over my body again. To touch who I wanted, when I wanted. “Let’s go get the lights back on,” I told him. He seemed to understand. Letting his hand dropped, he grabbed his keys and gestured for me to lead the way. We slipped outside moments later, walking down the dark tunnel until we saw the light of Milo’s cigarette. He pushed off the wall when we approached, falling in step beside me while Malcolm was on my other. I would have to question some of the things said later, when I was in my own home. For now, we had to go see Belladonna. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]] “You are both guilty of putting me in the middle of that,” I told him. “I’m not something for the two of you to fight over, you understand that, right?” “That wasn’t about you,” he said, bowing his head. “Though, I can see where it looks like that and how you would feel that way. I’m sorry. Milo and I have toxic old patterns born out of a lot of pain and insecurity. They have nothing to do with you.” “Then stop working them out around me,” I told him. Malcolm looked a little sick at the thought. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Lamplight, of course. I don’t want to put you in the middle. Not like that.” [[Thank you]] [[Let’s just go]] [[But you want me in the middle?]] I waved him off. “It’s okay. It’s kind of funny to see him get jealous. Don’t make a habit of it but it’s nice to know he cares. In a weird way.” Malcolm tipped his head to the side. “Lamplight, he cares. A lot. You could tell the man to get your name tattooed to his unmentionables and he would do it with a skip in his step. Don’t ever doubt his love for you. It’s gotten off to a rocky start, but it's there.” I looked at the door that Milo had disappeared through. “I’ll try to remember that,” I said. “Take it from someone that knows him pretty well, Milo Next lost you once. He was forced to see every little feeling he’s been hiding in his commitment issue heart. But now that he’s faced with it, he’s going to cling to you like some sort of imprinted duck.” The thought of duckling Milo following me around, hanging off my every word. It did seem rather in line with him. It would be something I would have to watch for. “Do you really think he has commitment issues?” I asked. Malcolm raised one artful brow. “It’s either that or he’s a sex addict. Take your pick.” “He never committed to you, did he?” Something came across Malcolm’s face then. A sad sort of smile and a memory that was becoming fuzzy around the edges. “Not in the way I wanted. No.” “Did you ever tell him?” I wanted not only the air to be cleared between Milo and I but to be cleared between Malcolm and him as well. “No,” Malcolm said honestly. “No, I did not.” Grabbing his keys, he gestured towards the door. “Shall we?” We slipped outside moments later, walking down the dark tunnel until we saw the light of Milo’s cigarette. He pushed off the wall when we approached, falling in step beside me while Malcolm was on my other. I would have to question some of the things said later, when I was in my own home. For now, we had to go see Belladonna. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]] “Thank you,” I told him with a relieved sigh. There was one thing to be said about Malcolm. He never was one that intentionally wished to make someone uncomfortable. The second he did, he turned around and made sure to own up to his mistakes. It was a quality rarely seen in others. “Of course, Lamplight.” Grabbing his keys, he motioned to the door. “Are you okay to do this? We don’t have to go see Belladonna right now.” “No. It’s okay. We should get this over with.” We slipped outside moments later, walking down the dark tunnel until we saw the light of Milo’s cigarette. He pushed off the wall when we approached, falling in step beside me while Malcolm was on my other. I would have to question some of the things said later, when I was in my own home. For now, we had to go see Belladonna. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]] “Let’s just go,” I said with a sigh. I was tired already and the day had barely started. “Lamplight, I really am sorry. I’m going to try and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” It wasn’t so much that I cared. That was misread. I just wanted one thing to go smoothly. To know that we were all going to get through this together. That inner personal fighting would not be abundant. Maybe it was naive thinking on my part. Or maybe, my time beyond this mortal body had not been long enough. We slipped outside moments later, walking down the dark tunnel until we saw the light of Milo’s cigarette. He pushed off the wall when we approached, falling in step beside me while Malcolm was on my other. I would have to question some of the things said later, when I was in my own home. For now, we had to go see Belladonna. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]] “But you want me in the middle?” The way he worded that sentence did not go unnoticed. Grabbing his keys, Malcolm looked at me with a new found amusement. “I thought I made that clear already.” “Um, no. You have not.” I whirled on him, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. “Aw, that is an oversight on my part then. Ready to go see Bella?” He opened the door for me, his lips pulled in a smirk. I stood there dumbfounded for a long moment until my legs moved on their own accord. Pulled by this enigma of a man. We slipped outside moments later, walking down the dark tunnel until we saw the light of Milo’s cigarette. He pushed off the wall when we approached, falling in step beside me while Malcolm was on my other. I would have to question some of the things said later, when I was in my own home. For now, we had to go see Belladonna. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]] A fog had settled over the streets, weaving within the small cracks and fissures of the walls, dipping down across the cobblestones and forming ghostly feet to walk the uneven ground. The simple guise of denizens felt like a spectral hand at the back of my neck as the world around me felt more dead than alive, welcoming in the shadows that had hidden among the light and letting them curl around the city. The pathway to the cathedral had remained oddly clear, however. Most likely due to Belladonna’s influence within the market. At least she still had some foothold here. The other Barons were suspiciously absent. Holed up inside their own districts and ignoring the slowly crumbling decay of the world around them. “The ghosts are out,” Milo muttered. “It’s getting worse.” “Have they been wandering more?” I asked him. I couldn’t help but notice the unnatural feel to the air around us. Like the atmosphere was thinner. Like the world was holding its breath. “Every day there seems to be more patches of colorless streets. Not to mention entire areas of the market just disappearing.” Milo had his hands in his pockets, looking up towards the tattered lights. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he murmured. “We’ll get it back,” Malcolm assured the two of us. “Just going to take some time.” The cathedral was lit with candles. Their wax dripped from long burned flames to form lazy rivers within the courtyard. The stained glass of Belladonna’s tower was backlit, casting red and blue fractal lights to fall onto the fogless streets. Somehow, the area in which the unfortunate were hunted under a guise of fog, felt like one of the last normal places within the marketplace. “Belladonna Malady waiting for us,” Milo called out. “Should we feel honored?” Bella stood outside, dressed in a deep red that clung to her form. The doors to the cathedral were closed behind her, sequestering away any of the other vampires under her reign. “Are you ready?” She didn’t even glance and Milo or Malcolm. We stopped right in front of her. “What all did you find?” I asked. Her letter had said very little and the unease in which I was storming into another situation was unsettling. “An indecent lack of solid information,” she told me with a sigh. Irritation creased the corners of her eyes. It had to be bad if she was letting it show. “However, the brewings within the market make me wonder if we have any time to sit and ponder this further.” “Meaning?” She gestured for me to walk with her, assuming Milo and Malcolm would trail behind. We headed away from the cathedral and into the dim light of the back garden behind the old church. Belladonna’s voice was low as she spoke. “There are musings that I have found. Ones that claim that the lanterns can be relit. Their light comes from the guiding source. Said source may have been affected when the ritual was performed and the gates were closed.” From behind us, Milo cleared his throat. “There was nothing about the lanterns within what I was doing. Why would closing the gates do anything?” “Hence why I said ‘affected’. Meaning that it was not the intention, but an unfortunate consequence. Do keep up, Gatekeeper. I’m only just tolerating you.” She opened an iron gate for me, letting me step through. When it shut, it hit Milo in the stomach, causing him to jump back and hiss. Bella raised a brow.“You really are fae then.” Milo was looking down at the gate with a frown, refusing to touch it. Malcolm had to open it for him. “Now,” she stated, her voice rising again now that we were out of the ears of the cathedral. “If the remaining lanterns are unharmed and simply need to be lit, then I think the rest of the lanterns will follow suit. There are several passages that I’ve come across that have stated that the light protects the market and that it draws its source from the five pillars.” “Five lanterns then.” “But how are we supposed to relight them,” Malcolm said. “That, I do not know. For all I know they are not out at all. Just blocked. We need to see what state that they are in. And I would assume that with $name being the Night Market, there might be some connection ?they will feel towards these sources. It is not enough to go off of for me to feel comfortable sending you out there, but, I don’t know if we have much more of a choice.” [[Why are you so anxious for us to go?]] [[What if I get out there and feel nothing?]] [[Was there any mention at all of the lights going out like this before?]] “Why are you so anxious for us to go?” I asked her. There was a distinctly different tone to her now. This nearly frantic need for us to go and see these lanterns. She looked at me in shock. “Do you not feel it?” “The amount that I feel shifts daily. You will need to be more specific.” Her lips thinned. There was a strange tilt to her eyes and I couldn’t help but think her skin looked sallow. “It’s the color,” Malcolm said behind me. His voice was in some sort of shocked state as his eyes started taking in the surroundings. “The market is fading into memory, isn’t it. Like the liminal state that we were in before. When I was dead. When $name was wandering.” Belladonna nodded. “I am not sure if it is that and I hesitate to give validity to it but the world is changing. Too fast. Too soon. And I am starting to fear that what we once thought would settle, is merely going to shift until we recognize nothing.” The knowledge of it sat heavy in my gut. As if what was happening wasn’t enough. “Okay, hold it,” Milo said. “So, you want to send $name out into the Outlands, on a shaky idea that these big lanterns will light the little lanterns but you don’t know how to light them. You don’t know where they came from. And you don’t know what state they are all in. But you are going to do it because the world is feeling kind of funny?" Belladonna stopped so suddenly that Milo nearly fell into her. “Considering that you are the one that put us into this mess, I would ask that you refrain from speaking.” “I would ask that you think a little further before shoving $name out into the middle of fucking nowhere.” [[What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?]] [[I am not going alone]] [[Is there a way to communicate back here once I get to the lanterns?]] “What if I get out there and feel nothing?” I asked her. The nebulous idea of going off of a gut feeling for a world teetering on the precipice was such an out there idea that I was already assuming failure. “Then you will do what I actually need you to do and get me a description of what those lanterns actually look like. As of right now, I don’t know the size of them. I don’t know if they are broken. I don’t know if they even can be lit. So if you do not get some sort of higher self feeling, then you do the practical thing and get me as much information as you possibly can.” That made me feel at least a little better. Like I had a direction to go. “Okay, hold it,” Milo said. “So, you want to send $name out into the Outlands, on a shaky idea that these big lanterns will light the little lanterns but you don’t know how to light them. You don’t know where they came from. And you don’t know what state they are all in.” Belladonna stopped so suddenly that Milo nearly fell into her. “Considering that you are the one that put us into this mess, I would ask that you refrain from speaking.” “I would ask that you think a little further before shoving $name out into the middle of fucking nowhere.” [[What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?]] [[I am not going alone]] [[Is there a way to communicate back here once I get to the lanterns?]] “In the texts that you’ve looked over, have they said anything, anything at all, to hint that this has happened before?” The times that I had been here before felt incredibly unclear. Did the world change each time I went back? “The only reference to it that I found was when the ancients rose from beneath the market. But it is unclear whether or not there were even lanterns below, or if the lanterns did not come into existence until civilization came to be up top.” “We are in completely uncharted territory then.” She nodded. “I am documenting what we are going through in hopes of circumventing this from happening again.” “Okay, hold it,” Milo said. “So, you want to send $name out into the Outlands, on a shaky idea that these big lanterns will light the little lanterns but you don’t know how to light them. You don’t know where they came from. And you don’t know what state they are all in.” Belladonna stopped so suddenly that Milo nearly fell into her. “Considering that you are the one that put us into this mess, I would ask that you refrain from speaking.” “I would ask that you think a little further before shoving $name out into the middle of fucking nowhere.” [[What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?]] [[I am not going alone]] [[Is there a way to communicate back here once I get to the lanterns?]] “What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?” I asked her. “That these lanterns mean nothing and I am going to come back here and there is going to be no semblance of the market left.” “At least sixty percent,” she told me. “Great.” I guess I should have been more happy that it wasn’t more like eighty. “$name, if I had any other lead, I would have you explore it. But I don’t. This is genuinely all I’ve been able to come up with.” “It’s only been a day,” Malcolm reasoned. “We could give it more time.” “It hasn’t been only a day,” she snapped. “I’ve been looking into getting the lights back on since they were doused. And given the greasy notes that I have now seen scratched into Lucinda’s grimoire, I’m going to assume that the poor excuse for a Gatekeeper has also.” I looked back at Milo, watching as he shrugged. “This is what we have. This is what we are working with. And I need everyone on the same page.” When no one argued with her further, she breathed out a note of tension. “I have someone that will be guiding you. Contrary to popular belief, the Outlands are not completely abandoned and controlled by monsters. There are plenty who go out there. I have hired one such person to help you.” We turned the corner, following the lines of the outer walls. The ones that separated us from the Outlands still were whole. They were the first that the Velvet Guard rebuilt. There was a large gated entrance there. The bars reaching far higher than what I could fathom, spiraling upwards to pierce the stars. And there, in front of the gate, stood a man. [[Next|Deucalion Grey]] “I am not going alone,” I told her. “Even with some sort of map I won’t know how to get out there. I have no memory of the Outlands. I’m not sure I have even been there.” “It’s a part of you,” Belladonna stated. “That doesn’t mean I know where to go.” She sighed, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “I have someone that will be guiding you. Contrary to popular belief, the Outlands are not completely abandoned and controlled by monsters. There are plenty who go out there. I have hired one such person to help you.” We turned the corner, following the lines of the outer walls. The ones that separated us from the Outlands still were whole. They were the first that the Velvet Guard rebuilt. There was a large gated entrance there. The bars reaching far higher than what I could fathom, spiraling upwards to pierce the stars. And there, in front of the gate, stood a man. [[Next|Deucalion Grey]] “Is there a way to communicate with you once I get to the lanterns?” I asked, ignoring the bickering. Malcolm was doing the same, stepping closer to me. “Perhaps there is a ritual that can be performed,” she said. “Unlike what Milo thinks, I am not just sending you out there unarmed.” “What weapons do you have against the beasts of the dark?” “Of course you immediately assume weapons are the answer. Such a small mind, Gatekeeper.” Belladonna rolled her eyes. “I have someone that will be guiding you. Contrary to popular belief, the Outlands are not completely abandoned and controlled by monsters. There are plenty who go out there. I have hired one such person to help you.” We turned the corner, following the lines of the outer walls. The ones that separated us from the Outlands still were whole. They were the first that the Velvet Guard rebuilt. There was a large gated entrance there. The bars reaching far higher than what I could fathom, spiraling upwards to pierce the stars. And there, in front of the gate, stood a man. [[Next|Deucalion Grey]] “$name,” Belladonna started. “Meet Deucalion Grey.” The man stood tall and dark across the way. He wore a leather overcoat that reached mid thigh before flaring out along with a high slit skirt, a pair of combat boots, and a lace corset that was far more a mesh shirt than anything else. He twirled a cane in one hand, the head of which was a large purple eye. I spotted several dark lines of tattoos crisscrossed upon his chest along with a gold earring. Upon spotting me, he bowed deeply, his pearly smile welcoming. “Hello, dear Night,” he greeted. “Ms. Malady has told me so very much about you. I hear you need a guide to the Outlands.” I glanced at Belladonna before stepping forward and shaking the man's hands. He had several rings adorned upon his fingers, all of which looked as if they were magical in nature. “I do. Or at least I am assuming I do. The trip is all still rather new to me.” “Oh dear, this has got to be quite a bit of a shock then,” he proclaimed. Pulling his hand away, he took a step back, sizing me up. “I have the supplies we will need but we will have to travel quickly. A languid pace within the Outlands often leads to unsavory deaths.” The man had the smile like a viper and looked as if he was ready to leave //now//. “Right,” I started slowly. “Uh, Bella? Can I speak to you for a moment?” I was reeling. To be told that the Outlands would be the next leg of my journey, with a stranger no less, felt a bit too much like a tonal shift for me to just go along with it. “$name, you will need someone familiar with what is out there.” While Belladonna did not step away to allow us privacy for the conversation, I did notice that Deucalion took a few steps to the right, pretending not to listen. “Mr. Grey is not only proficient in the Outlands but he is a friend.” She twitched at the word. “Alright, so he’s not a friend but he is a colleague that I do trust.” “That and I’ve been assured if any harm comes to you, I will be decapitated, burned and then run through a grinder,” Deucalion said with a short nod. “See? He understands what is at stake. Now, please. We have a few things that we need to go over before you leave.” [[I’m not sure I feel comfortable with a stranger]] [[Why do we have to do this so soon?]] [[And you are certain this is our next course of action]] “I’m not sure I feel incredibly comfortable traveling out in the Outlands with a stranger,” I told her honestly. “Deucalion is not a stranger,” she reasoned. “No one in this vast land is.” She spread her arms out wide, smiling. I stared back at her blankly. Dropping her arms, she sighed. “Fine. Yes. He is a stranger to you. But, this is also Deucalion’s job. I promise you. You are in no safer hands.” I looked at the newcomer over my shoulder, watching the way he pretended not to overhear our conversation. I didn’t detect any sort of malice off of him. Though, I couldn’t say I felt comfortable walking beyond the gates with him. “We need the lanterns back on,” Belladonna said. “The book made that very clear.” Pulling out Lucinda’s grimoire, she held it out to me. “I’ve tagged the pages you should be paying attention to. Please do not look at the others.” “Just looking at them is going to cause problems?” “With someone like Lucinda, it is very possible. Now, at the back of this book, is a vague location of where these lanterns are. The ones that have gone dark.” Flipping the book open, she placed it on a half wall. “Five lanterns. Connect them and you make a star. Poetic, yes. Especially given that the market proper is right in the middle. Now,” she pointed at each of them in turn. “I ran a reverse magical signature on them. This one right here was the first to go out. Nearly three decades ago.” I snapped my attention to her. “What?” “The second one, not long after. Then there seemed to be a time of peace. But these last three? They started going out rapidly in the last decade with the very last one breaking the same night of the ball. The same night the lights went out. They are connected to you and they are connected to here. So, I’d say if the lights are out, it’s because these ones are. First logical conclusion would be to relight them.” “But the question is still how?” I had to agree with what she was presenting but if it was that easy to relight a lantern, we would be able to ignite the ones swaying above us. “That, I don’t know. But I’m not asking you to not come back until they are lit. I’m asking you to go to the first one and try to figure out what exactly we are dealing with.” [[You should be coming with me]] [[Someone that knows about the lanterns should be coming with me]] [[Why do you think I’ll be able to tell what is wrong?]] “Why do we have to do this so soon?” I asked. “I understand the urgency but we have to leave now?” “He is ready to go,” she pointed out. “Bella, this is a lot,” I tried to reason with her. “You are asking me to walk out the gates right this instant.” “And do you have any pressing matter that is holding you back?” She knew I didn’t. She absolutely knew I didn’t. It made having a rebuttal to her nearly impossible unless I simply just wanted to say I didn’t want to. When people were dying, I wasn’t sure if ‘I didn’t want to’ was a great option. “We need the lanterns back on,” Belladonna said. “The book made that very clear. And from what I can gather, the first location is one that is only availabe at the light of the first monthly moon. So it's either now, or a month from now. And I do not think any of us truly want to wait." Pulling out Lucinda’s grimoire, she held it out to me. “I’ve tagged the pages you should be paying attention to. Please do not look at the others.” “Just looking at them is going to cause problems?” “With someone like Lucinda, it is very possible. Now, at the back of this book, is a vague location of where these lanterns are. The ones that have gone dark.” Flipping the book open, she placed it on a half wall. “Five lanterns. Connect them and you make a star. Poetic, yes. Especially given that the market proper is right in the middle. Now,” she pointed at each of them in turn. “I ran a reverse magical signature on them. This one right here was the first to go out. Nearly three decades ago.” I snapped my attention to her. “What?” “The second one, not long after. Then there seemed to be a time of peace. But these last three? They started going out rapidly in the last decade with the very last one breaking the same night of the ball. The same night the lights went out. They are connected to you and they are connected to here. So, I’d say if the lights are out, it’s because these ones are. First logical conclusion would be to relight them.” “But the question is still how?” I had to agree with what she was presenting but if it was that easy to relight a lantern, we would be able to ignite the ones swaying above us. “That, I don’t know. But I’m not asking you to not come back until they are lit. I’m asking you to go to the first one and try to figure out what exactly we are dealing with.” [[You should be coming with me]] [[Someone that knows about the lanterns should be coming with me]] [[Why do you think I’ll be able to tell what is wrong?]] “Are you certain the Outlands are where we need to be directing our attention?” Thus far, the only exposure to the Outlands I could even remember, boiled down to Nebula. A town that wanted to be forgotten. I wanted to ask the Velvet Guard what exactly they were doing, tossing people out into these villages to die, but with the state that Gabriel was in, I didn’t know if I would even gain an audience. Let alone find anyone truly in charge. “$name, for the first time I am not certain of any of this. But, this is all I can think of to help propel us forward.” And that right there scared me far more than I wanted to admit. “We need the lanterns back on,” Belladonna said. “The book made that very clear.” Pulling out Lucinda’s grimoire, she held it out to me. “I’ve tagged the pages you should be paying attention to. Please do not look at the others.” “Just looking at them is going to cause problems?” “With someone like Lucinda, it is very possible. Now, at the back of this book, is a vague location of where these lanterns are. The ones that have gone dark.” Flipping the book open, she placed it on a half wall. “Five lanterns. Connect them and you make a star. Poetic, yes. Especially given that the market proper is right in the middle. Now,” she pointed at each of them in turn. “I ran a reverse magical signature on them. This one right here was the first to go out. Nearly three decades ago.” I snapped my attention to her. “What?” “The second one, not long after. Then there seemed to be a time of peace. But these last three? They started going out rapidly in the last decade with the very last one breaking the same night of the ball. The same night the lights went out. They are connected to you and they are connected to here. So, I’d say if the lights are out, it’s because these ones are. First logical conclusion would be to relight them.” “But the question is still how?” I had to agree with what she was presenting but if it was that easy to relight a lantern, we would be able to ignite the ones swaying above us. “That, I don’t know. But I’m not asking you to not come back until they are lit. I’m asking you to go to the first one and try to figure out what exactly we are dealing with.” [[You should be coming with me]] [[Someone that knows about the lanterns should be coming with me]] [[Why do you think I’ll be able to tell what is wrong?]] “You should be coming with me,” I told her. “Out of everyone, Bella, you have the gut that I trust. The ability to read and speak to people. You’ve studied the grimoire.” She smiled at me sadly. “Dear heart,” she cooed. “I greatly appreciate the compliment. But, I am a Baron. I cannot go out there. My place is here.” “You are a Baron. You can technically do whatever you wish." There was a time that I thought she would have agreed with me. But something had changed. Perhaps being a Baron was no longer what she wished for. “You go,” she said. “You and Deucalion. Gather information. Bring it back. Meanwhile, this merry little band of do-gooders we have collected, will keep the world together while you are gone.” “It’s a short list of do-gooders we now have.” Gabriel was out of commission. So was Hazel. Milo was questionable at best. Which really only left Belladonna and Malcolm to hold everything together. To keep an eye on Lucinda and to keep Gabriel’s madness from spreading out to different sectors of the market “It’ll have to be enough,” she said, snapping the book shut and handing it back to me. “Though, I do agree that I do not like that it is just you and Deucalion going out there. It feels like too small of a group. I would feel better if you took someone else. Perhaps one of your Artisan Alley crew. Or Malcolm.” <<if $miloro == "true">> “Or me,” Milo interjected. “No.” This time, it was not just Malcolm who spoke, but Belladonna as well. “You, Gatekeeper, are staying where I can keep an eye on you. And far far away from that book.” “Does no one here realize that I could literally just go out there if I wanted?” he asked. “I’ve been wandering around this market far longer than any of you.” I tipped my head to the side, staring at him. “But will you? While gaining everyone's trust back, is that what you’re going to choose to do?” That made him balk. He took a step back and I could see his own words drawing across his face. He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. Because fear was what prompted him to speak. But if I told him to stay here, he would. I had a feeling that from here on out, Milo would do almost anything I said. “Fuck,” he whispered, turning away from all of us. I knew my point had been made.<</if>> [[I would like Herald to come with me]] [[I want Malcolm to come with me]] [[I’ll be fine with Deucalion]]“Someone that knows about the lanterns should be coming with me,” I told her. There had to be someone here that was more versed in the lanterns than me. “There is no one that knows about the lanterns. Not here” she said. “But Deucalion does know about the Outlands. So he’ll be able to get you to someone who does have information that we need.” “Out there.” “Out there,” she nodded. “Go out and learn about your market, $name. Or else this world will fail. Our merry little band of do-gooders will only be able to keep this market from falling apart for so long.” “It’s a short list of do-gooders we now have.” Gabriel was out of commission. So was Hazel. Milo was questionable at best. Which really only left Belladonna and Malcolm to hold everything together. To keep an eye on Lucinda and to keep Gabriel’s madness from spreading out to different sectors of the market “It’ll have to be enough,” she said, snapping the book shut and handing it back to me. “Though, I do agree that I do not like that it is just you and Deucalion going out there. It feels like too small of a group. I would feel better if you took someone else. Perhaps one of your Artisan Alley crew. Or Malcolm.” <<if $miloro == "true">> “Or me,” Milo interjected. “No.” This time, it was not just Malcolm who spoke, but Belladonna as well. “You, Gatekeeper, are staying where I can keep an eye on you. And far far away from that book.” “Does no one here realize that I could literally just go out there if I wanted?” he asked. “I’ve been wandering around this market far longer than any of you.” I tipped my head to the side, staring at him. “But will you? While gaining everyone's trust back, is that what you’re going to choose to do?” That made him balk. He took a step back and I could see his own words drawing across his face. He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. Because fear was what prompted him to speak. But if I told him to stay here, he would. I had a feeling that from here on out, Milo would do almost anything I said. “Fuck,” he whispered, turning away from all of us. I knew my point had been made.<</if>> [[I would like Herald to come with me]] [[I want Malcolm to come with me]] [[I’ll be fine with Deucalion]] “Why do you think I’ll be able to tell what is wrong with the lamps?” I was only now realizing the ways I could manipulate the market. I wasn’t sure what I would be able to reveal about the broken lanterns. Especially since looking at the ones here gave me nothing. “I don’t have the answer to that,” Belladonna said honestly. “I only have the hope that given that you are the Night Market, you’ll be able to trigger a reaction.” “And if I don’t?” She looked at me with waning patience. “$name, do you believe that no one is out at these lanterns? That they are sitting, covered in sand somewhere?” “I don’t know what to think, Bella. That’s the entire point of this conversation.” “Someone will be there. You are going out to gather information. Deucalion is going to help get you there. And meanwhile, our band of merry little do gooders are going to stay here and keep the market from falling apart.” “It’s a short list of do-gooders we now have.” Gabriel was out of commission. So was Hazel. Milo was questionable at best. Which really only left Belladonna and Malcolm to hold everything together. To keep an eye on Lucinda and to keep Gabriel’s madness from spreading out to different sectors of the market “It’ll have to be enough,” she said, snapping the book shut and handing it back to me. “Though, I do agree that I do not like that it is just you and Deucalion going out there. It feels like too small of a group. I would feel better if you took someone else. Perhaps one of your Artisan Alley crew. Or Malcolm.” <<if $miloro == "true">> “Or me,” Milo interjected. “No.” This time, it was not just Malcolm who spoke, but Belladonna as well. “You, Gatekeeper, are staying where I can keep an eye on you. And far far away from that book.” “Does no one here realize that I could literally just go out there if I wanted?” he asked. “I’ve been wandering around this market far longer than any of you.” I tipped my head to the side, staring at him. “But will you? While gaining everyone's trust back, is that what you’re going to choose to do?” That made him balk. He took a step back and I could see his own words drawing across his face. He wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. Because fear was what prompted him to speak. But if I told him to stay here, he would. I had a feeling that from here on out, Milo would do almost anything I said. “Fuck,” he whispered, turning away from all of us. I knew my point had been made.<</if>> [[I would like Herald to come with me]] [[I want Malcolm to come with me]] [[I’ll be fine with Deucalion]] “I think I would like Herald to come with me,” I stated. “I know he’s traveled to the Outlands before.” It was like some sort of fever dream that I remembered. An image of the giant man with the uneven gait, wandering in the dark, placing bodies in his coffin to bring back to the graveyard. Belladonna raised a perfectly manicured brow towards me but Deucalion looked delighted at the mere prospect. “Harry? Do love the chap. Such a good man to share the fireside with.” Bella looked at Deucalion with only the slightest amount of exasperation but waved it away in favor of just getting the journey on with. “Fine. Herald. A message has been sent for him and hopefully he will be near the gates soon. We really cannot afford to wait for long.” <<if $miloro == "true" or $hazelro == "true">> Glancing over my shoulder, I spied both Malcolm and Milo. I expected more protest, especially given that Malcolm had been one of my options to join me. But when it boiled down to it, Malcolm’s place was here. I needed him and Milo to figure out what exactly was going on with Hazel. And I needed eyes I could trust on Lucinda. <</if>> “Is that it then? I just leave?” Picking up the grimoire, I held it close to my chest. It felt as if we were scrambling blindly through a problem that may or may not exist. The lights needed to get turned back on. I agreed. But who was to say that it was going to be any better. We were just assuming that it would because it had been before. But the damage had been done. The walls were still moving erratically. People were still dying. There was no telling if the lanterns were going to fix that. “Then don’t try,” I heard a whisper. I looked around. Trying to find the voice. <<if $miloro == "true">>My eyes locked with Milo’s and for one long moment, I assumed he had said it. But the voice had been feminine. An oily whisper. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>My eyes locked with Milo’s and for one long moment, I assumed he had said it. But the voice had been feminine. An oily whisper. <</if>> A crossbody bag was tossed to me. It bounced off my chest, snapping me out of it as I scrambled to keep a hold of the bag. It felt light but as I peered inside, I saw a sleeping bag, along with a canteen of water and some food. “It’s bonded to you so only you should be able to open it,” Deucalion said. I immediately put Lucinda's book inside. Walking around with the thing was causing me more stress than I thought I would have. “I’ll give you a moment to say some farewells.” Bowing, he stepped back, turning on his heel to then walk a little ways away. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Goodbye Bella]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye Bella]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye Milo/Mal]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Next|Hazel route goodbye]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Gabriel route goodbye]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye platonic]]<</if>> <<set $outlandshandt to "true">> <<set $companion to "Herald">> <<set $companion to "herald">>“I want Malcolm to come with me,” I stated. My Gatekeeper. The one that had been with me long before I took this form. I trusted him implicitly. Those long nights where he murmured his hopes and fears towards the lanterns had wrapped around me tight. They were what made me want to care. <<if $miloro == "true">> I turned towards him. There was no surprise registered on his face. Just honored understanding. Milo, however, did not look as pleased. When Malcolm stepped forward, I watched the way his fists clenched at his sides. “Of course I will come with you. It shouldn’t even be a question.” “Then it's settled,” Bella said with a clap of her hands. The look she turned towards Milo cut off any protest he was about to hurl our way. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>I turned towards him. There was no surprise registered on his face. Just honored understanding. Milo, however, did not look as pleased. When Malcolm stepped forward, I watched the way his fists clenched at his sides. “Of course I will come with you. It shouldn’t even be a question.” Milo stepped forward, grabbing at his hand. “You are not–” “Then it's settled,” Bella said with a clap of her hands. The look she turned towards Milo cut off any protest he was about to hurl our way. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true" or $gabrielro == "true" or $gbpoly == "true">> “I already have a message to him and a spell that should have him at the gates with Deucalion.” I startled at that. “Shouldn’t we ask him first?’ “Do you think I am going to give him a choice? Absolutely not, dear heart. If he is the one that you feel most comfortable with out there in the wastes, then I do not care what his opinion is. He will be going with you.” <</if>> Picking up the grimoire, I held it close to my chest. It felt as if we were scrambling blindly through a problem that may or may not exist. The lights needed to get turned back on. I agreed. But who was to say that it was going to be any better. We were just assuming that it would because it had been before. But the damage had been done. The walls were still moving erratically. People were still dying. There was no telling if the lanterns were going to fix that. “Then don’t try,” I heard a whisper. I looked around. Trying to find the voice. <<if $miloro == "true">>My eyes locked with Milo’s and for one long moment, I assumed he had said it. But the voice had been feminine. An oily whisper. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>My eyes locked with Milo’s and for one long moment, I assumed he had said it. But the voice had been feminine. An oily whisper. <</if>> A crossbody bag was tossed to me. It bounced off my chest, snapping me out of it as I scrambled to keep a hold of the bag. It felt light but as I peered inside, I saw a sleeping bag, along with a canteen of water and some food. “It’s bonded to you so only you should be able to open it,” Deucalion said. I immediately put Lucinda's book inside. Walking around with the thing was causing me more stress than I thought I would have. “I’ll give you a moment to say some farewells.” Bowing, he stepped back, turning on his heel to then walk a little ways away. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Goodbye Bella]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye Bella]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye Milo/Mal]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Next|Hazel route goodbye]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Gabriel route goodbye]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye platonic]]<</if>> <<set $outlandsmal to "true">> <<set $companion to "malcolm">> <<set $companion to "Malcolm">> “I’ll be fine with Deucalion,” I said, turning to look at the man. "Won't I?" “My life is your life," he grinned. “Then we should be set.” Picking up the grimoire, I held it close to my chest. It felt as if we were scrambling blindly through a problem that may or may not exist. The lights needed to get turned back on. I agreed. But who was to say that it was going to be any better. We were just assuming that it would because it had been before. But the damage had been done. The walls were still moving erratically. People were still dying. There was no telling if the lanterns were going to fix that. “Then don’t try,” I heard a whisper. I looked around. Trying to find the voice. <<if $miloro == "true">>My eyes locked with Milo’s and for one long moment, I assumed he had said it. But the voice had been feminine. An oily whisper. <<elseif $hazelro == "true">>My eyes locked with Milo’s and for one long moment, I assumed he had said it. But the voice had been feminine. An oily whisper. <</if>> A crossbody bag was tossed to me. It bounced off my chest, snapping me out of it as I scrambled to keep a hold of the bag. It felt light but as I peered inside, I saw a sleeping bag, along with a canteen of water and some food. “It’s bonded to you so only you should be able to open it,” Deucalion said. I immediately put Lucinda's book inside. Walking around with the thing was causing me more stress than I thought I would have. “I’ll give you a moment to say some farewells.” Bowing, he stepped back, turning on his heel to then walk a little ways away. <<if $belladonnaro == "true">>[[Next|Goodbye Bella]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye Bella]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye Milo/Mal]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Next|Hazel route goodbye]]<<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> [[Next|Gabriel route goodbye]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Next|Goodbye platonic]]<</if>> <<set $outlandsdeucalion to "true">> <<set $companion to "deucalion">> <<set $companion to "Deucalion">> “No,” I said with a shake of my head. “It’s invasive. She’d hate that. Taking her here by force was already something I wasn’t comfortable with. I just reacted in the moment.” “It was a good reaction,” Milo muttered. “Was it?” I could still feel her tears against my shoulder. The way she clung to me. All the other night did was confirm to me that she was being held against her will. But it was no less traumatizing for her. “She has no agency, Milo. And by forcing her away from Lucinda, even though it might be what's best, we are still telling her she has no agency. “We could try luring her away again,” Malcolm said, looking just as tired as I felt. “But that seems like an impossibility. The only thing I can think of is to go to the apothecary under the guise of peace. Pretend like whatever happened yesterday got through to me. But the very idea of it makes me want to throw up all over Lucinda’s perfectly pointed shoes.” “Does she have pointed shoes?” Milo asked, pausing in the pathway between the kitchen and living room. “Seems a little on the nose.” “We just need to get Hazel to trust us,” Malcolm said, ignoring Milo. “I guess being her brother isn’t enough for that.” <<if $hazelro == "true">>“Well, I was her lover and I was erased from her thoughts so I’d say something is at work to break that trust.”<</if>> “Have we considered it might not be Lucinda?” Both Malcolm and I stopped, turning to look at Milo. He held his hands up in the air, already knowing how unpopular of an opinion that would be. “I think Lucinda is involved. I really do. But, I also think it might be more complicated. Neither of you have known Hazel these last ten years or so. She went to some extremes to avoid discomfort.” “Meaning?” Malcolm asked. His voice was dangerously close to falling over the edge. “Meaning, what if she forgot $name on purpose.” [[She wouldn’t do that]] [[Why would she do that]] [[No, I’ve thought of that too]] “Anything is worth a shot right now,” I said. There weren't a ton of options I could see in front of me. Leaving Hazel to work this out on her own not only felt like I was abandoning her, but also felt like running into a brick wall. “I just don’t understand why she is not taking all of this more seriously. She wasn’t blind to Lucinda. A little naive, yeah. But she could recognize the harm that the woman did,” Milo was muttering. “We could try luring her away again,” Malcolm said, looking just as tired as I felt. “But that seems like an impossibility. The only thing I can think of is to go to the apothecary under the guise of peace. Pretend like whatever happened yesterday got through to me. But the very idea of it makes me want to throw up all over Lucinda’s perfectly pointed shoes.” “Does she have pointed shoes?” Milo asked, pausing in the pathway between the kitchen and living room. “Seems a little on the nose.” “We just need to get Hazel to trust us,” Malcolm said, ignoring Milo. “I guess being her brother isn’t enough for that.” <<if $hazelro == "true">>“Well, I was her lover and I was erased from her thoughts so I’d say something is at work to break that trust.”<</if>> “Have we considered it might not be Lucinda?” Both Malcolm and I stopped, turning to look at Milo. He held his hands up in the air, already knowing how unpopular of an opinion that would be. “I think Lucinda is involved. I really do. But, I also think it might be more complicated. Neither of you have known Hazel these last ten years or so. She went to some extremes to avoid discomfort.” “Meaning?” Malcolm asked. His voice was dangerously close to falling over the edge. “Meaning, what if she forgot $name on purpose.” [[She wouldn’t do that]] [[Why would she do that]] [[No, I’ve thought of that too]] “Lucinda will see right through that. After taking her like we did, I doubt we’ll be able to even get within two feet of her.” I still couldn’t shake the way the woman looked at me as we dropped through the door. Like she expected us to go this far. Like she wanted it. “We could try luring her away again,” Malcolm said, looking just as tired as I felt. “But that seems like an impossibility. The only thing I can think of is to go to the apothecary under the guise of peace. Pretend like whatever happened yesterday got through to me. But the very idea of it makes me want to throw up all over Lucinda’s perfectly pointed shoes.” “Does she have pointed shoes?” Milo asked, pausing in the pathway between the kitchen and living room. “Seems a little on the nose.” “We just need to get Hazel to trust us,” Malcolm said, ignoring Milo. “I guess being her brother isn’t enough for that.” <<if $hazelro == "true">>“Well, I was her lover and I was erased from her thoughts so I’d say something is at work to break that trust.”<</if>> “Have we considered it might not be Lucinda?” Both Malcolm and I stopped, turning to look at Milo. He held his hands up in the air, already knowing how unpopular of an opinion that would be. “I think Lucinda is involved. I really do. But, I also think it might be more complicated. Neither of you have known Hazel these last ten years or so. She went to some extremes to avoid discomfort.” “Meaning?” Malcolm asked. His voice was dangerously close to falling over the edge. “Meaning, what if she forgot $name on purpose.” [[She wouldn’t do that]] [[Why would she do that]] [[No, I’ve thought of that too]] “She wouldn’t do that.” There was not a world out there where Hazel would willingly forget me. She would cling to me, if anything. Try to bring me back like she had Malcolm. But Milo did not look as convinced. “$name, she doesn’t do well with pain. She avoids it at all costs. And this…” he trailed off, knowing full well the pain that he had caused her. “I’m sure she tried to deal but the reality is that Hazel has never been one to take the long and hard road.” “She didn’t forget me,” I told him firmly. “I watched how hard she tried to get Malcolm back. If anything, she would have been doing the same for me. If she could remember me, that is.” “Which, my mother would most likely know,” Malcolm said softly. “And having the Night Market back might not be in line with whatever Lucinda has planned.” There was a knock on the door, interrupting our conversation. Milo’s gaze narrowed as he motioned for us to stay back. Malcolm rolled his eyes at the man as he cautiously made his way to the door, leaving us alone in the kitchen. I could hear a small buzzing of wings and Milo’s soft murmurs to whoever was outside. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Malcolm. “Is there anyone you know that can counter your family's magic?” I asked. Malcolm shook his head. “They’re dead. Lucinda made sure of that.” The door shut as Milo came back into the room. A small scroll was in his hands, growing larger as it unfurled. He handed it to me without looking. “For you.” I frowned, taking it from him. Immediately, I recognized Belladonna’s handwriting. //Meet me in the Cathedral Courtyard. You will be going to the Outlands.// The Outlands. The stretch of lands surrounding the market proper in which the beasts roamed. The lights had not touched there even when they were lit. They were a place that I had very little knowledge of with the most current being my trip to Nebula. “Bella wants me to go to the Outlands,” I said. Malcolm’s head snapped up while Milo tensed across the kitchen island. He glanced over at Malcolm, making sure he had backup for what he was about to say. “You’re going to tell her no, yeah?” I placed the letter on the counter. “Bella wouldn’t send that without reason. I’m assuming this has to have something to do with turning the lanterns back on.” An eruption of curses left Milo’s throat as he began pacing the room. Malcolm, meanwhile, took the paper and looked it over, his eyes reading and rereading the words over and over again. “You cannot just go to the Outlands,” Milo was saying. “You are the Night Market. We’re not just sending you out to go wandering into nowhere.” “Milo, calm down,” Malcolm eased. “$name is barely corporeal at the moment. Why would we just send ?them out to the most dangerous part of the Night Market? Even if it was to get the lights back on, others can do it. Hell, I’ll go do it.” [[You could tell her that]] [[Bella doesn’t trust you]] [[No, we can’t have the Gatekeeper dying]]“Why would she do something like that?” I asked. Hazel struggled with pain and loss but she didn’t completely erase it from her mind. She had Malcolm’s death at the forefront of her thoughts for a decade. But she wouldn’t be able to handle even a few moons of my absence? Milo shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It could very well have been a moment of weakness. She had no one during her grief. Not you. Not me. Not Malcolm. It might have broken her in ways that it never had before.” I could see the remorse cross his face. The way he tried to shy away from the painful picture that he created. Milo knew how much responsibility he needed to bear over this situation and the weight of it was not going to fall from his shoulders any time soon. There was a knock on the door, interrupting our conversation. Milo’s gaze narrowed as he motioned for us to stay back. Malcolm rolled his eyes at the man as he cautiously made his way to the door, leaving us alone in the kitchen. I could hear a small buzzing of wings and Milo’s soft murmurs to whoever was outside. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Malcolm. “Is there anyone you know that can counter your family's magic?” I asked. Malcolm shook his head. “They’re dead. Lucinda made sure of that.” The door shut as Milo came back into the room. A small scroll was in his hands, growing larger as it unfurled. He handed it to me without looking. “For you.” I frowned, taking it from him. Immediately, I recognized Belladonna’s handwriting. //Meet me in the Cathedral Courtyard. You will be going to the Outlands.// The Outlands. The stretch of lands surrounding the market proper in which the beasts roamed. The lights had not touched there even when they were lit. They were a place that I had very little knowledge of with the most current being my trip to Nebula. “Bella wants me to go to the Outlands,” I said. Malcolm’s head snapped up while Milo tensed across the kitchen island. He glanced over at Malcolm, making sure he had backup for what he was about to say. “You’re going to tell her no, yeah?” I placed the letter on the counter. “Bella wouldn’t send that without reason. I’m assuming this has to have something to do with turning the lanterns back on.” An eruption of curses left Milo’s throat as he began pacing the room. Malcolm, meanwhile, took the paper and looked it over, his eyes reading and rereading the words over and over again. “You cannot just go to the Outlands,” Milo was saying. “You are the Night Market. We’re not just sending you out to go wandering into nowhere.” “Milo, calm down,” Malcolm eased. “$name is barely corporeal at the moment. Why would we just send ?them out to the most dangerous part of the Night Market? Even if it was to get the lights back on, others can do it. Hell, I’ll go do it.” [[You could tell her that]] [[Bella doesn’t trust you]] [[No, we can’t have the Gatekeeper dying]] I looked away. I didn’t want Milo to be right. Why would I? And yet…? “No, I’ve thought of that, too.” It wasn’t the first time the thought itched at the back of my mind. The very idea that perhaps Hazel might have done something. Maybe to bring me back. Maybe to rid myself of her thoughts completely. She didn’t do well with pain and she avoided anything that made her uncomfortable. This qualified to meet those terms and conditions. Malcolm, however, was not buying it. “Hazel knows how dangerous that kind of magic is. Mind altering magic is some of the darkest magic out there. It was the stuff my mother used to make her money on. We grew up watching those spells go awry as people screamed inside the shop with their brains bleeding from their ears. She wouldn’t do that.” There was very little room to combat that. But it was not something I could dismiss as easily as him. “Maybe this is a product of a spell that has gone awry,” I reasoned. “We don’t know the entire scope of what happened after the ball.” “Except I still wasn’t there,” Malcolm said. “I still forgot about my sister.” “Now that I have no doubt //is// a Lucinda thing,” Milo commented. There was a knock on the door, interrupting our conversation. Milo’s gaze narrowed as he motioned for us to stay back. Malcolm rolled his eyes at the man as he cautiously made his way to the door, leaving us alone in the kitchen. I could hear a small buzzing of wings and Milo’s soft murmurs to whoever was outside. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Malcolm. “Is there anyone you know that can counter your family's magic?” I asked. Malcolm shook his head. “They’re dead. Lucinda made sure of that.” The door shut as Milo came back into the room. A small scroll was in his hands, growing larger as it unfurled. He handed it to me without looking. “For you.” I frowned, taking it from him. Immediately, I recognized Belladonna’s handwriting. //Meet me in the Cathedral Courtyard. You will be going to the Outlands.// The Outlands. The stretch of lands surrounding the market proper in which the beasts roamed. The lights had not touched there even when they were lit. They were a place that I had very little knowledge of with the most current being my trip to Nebula. “Bella wants me to go to the Outlands,” I said. Malcolm’s head snapped up while Milo tensed across the kitchen island. He glanced over at Malcolm, making sure he had backup for what he was about to say. “You’re going to tell her no, yeah?” I placed the letter on the counter. “Bella wouldn’t send that without reason. I’m assuming this has to have something to do with turning the lanterns back on.” An eruption of curses left Milo’s throat as he began pacing the room. Malcolm, meanwhile, took the paper and looked it over, his eyes reading and rereading the words over and over again. “You cannot just go to the Outlands,” Milo was saying. “You are the Night Market. We’re not just sending you out to go wandering into nowhere.” “Milo, calm down,” Malcolm eased. “$name is barely corporeal at the moment. Why would we just send ?them out to the most dangerous part of the Night Market? Even if it was to get the lights back on, others can do it. Hell, I’ll go do it.” [[You could tell her that]] [[Bella doesn’t trust you]] [[No, we can’t have the Gatekeeper dying]] “You could tell her that,” I commented. “See what she’d say. Maybe she’d even agree with it.” Milo scoffed. “Belladonna agree with anything I have to say? The day she does that is the day she kills me.” It was Malcolm that stepped forward, rubbing a hand across his face. “We are jumping ahead of ourselves. It is just a note.” “A damning note,” Milo hissed. “What about Hazel?” It was the equivalent of a low blow. I felt it. Because in a perfect world, I would be here. I would be dedicating every second I could to trying to help her. Into bringing her back to me. Ridding her of whatever was keeping her locked in the nightmare she was clearly in. But people were dying. Every day that passed, more and more people were succumbing to the Nothing. They were clawing and scraping their way to the life they deserved and then without even a second moment of warning, they were gone. Forever dismantled in the wake of the void. “I am not giving up on Hazel,” I told him. “But I have to do something about everything else. It’s all intertwined. It has to be. And //when// Hazel gets her memory back, she would be devastated if I had chosen her over trying to save our home.” Milo looked angry. But he had been in this position as well. The very unfortunate truth that broke my heart, was that Hazel oftentimes was left behind. Forgotten to something more important. It brought tears to my eyes just thinking about it. My smart, beautiful girl. “You shouldn’t be gone for long,” Malcolm said softly. “I’ll do some reconnaissance work while you are. We’ll figure out what our next move with Hazel is going to be.” “You cannot be serious,” Milo stated. “You’re letting ?them go?” It was his last ditch attempt. Because maybe he couldn’t get me to see reason, but he was positive that Malcolm could. [[Letting me?]] [[Milo, everything will be fine]] [[You don’t get to take ownership of me, Gatekeeper]] “Bella doesn’t trust you,” I told him. “There is no way she would agree to you taking me into the Outlands. You are lucky she isn’t currently trying to take off your head.” “$name, I get it. I really do. But sending you out into the Outlands like this feels like sending you to the gallows. Belladonna is not stupid enough to think you could go out there just fine. It’s not like an afternoon walk.” “Then trust that she knows what she’s doing,” I reasoned. “What about Hazel?” It was the equivalent of a low blow. I felt it. Because in a perfect world, I would be here. I would be dedicating every second I could to trying to help her. Into bringing her back to me. Ridding her of whatever was keeping her locked in the nightmare she was clearly in. But people were dying. Every day that passed, more and more people were succumbing to the Nothing. They were clawing and scraping their way to the life they deserved and then without even a second moment of warning, they were gone. Forever dismantled in the wake of the void. “I am not giving up on Hazel,” I told him. “But I have to do something about everything else. It’s all intertwined. It has to be. And //when// Hazel gets her memory back, she would be devastated if I had chosen her over trying to save our home.” Milo looked angry. But he had been in this position as well. The very unfortunate truth that broke my heart, was that Hazel oftentimes was left behind. Forgotten to something more important. It brought tears to my eyes just thinking about it. My smart, beautiful girl. “You shouldn’t be gone for long,” Malcolm said softly. “I’ll do some reconnaissance work while you are. We’ll figure out what our next move with Hazel is going to be.” “You cannot be serious,” Milo stated. “You’re letting ?them go?” It was his last ditch attempt. Because maybe he couldn’t get me to see reason, but he was positive that Malcolm could. [[Letting me?]] [[Milo, everything will be fine]] [[You don’t get to take ownership of me, Gatekeeper]] “No,” I told him. “We can’t have the Gatekeeper dying in the Outlands. I’m not about to have one of the beasts out there become the new manager of the realm.” Milo’s face screwed up. “Okay, first off, I hate that you’ve declared the Gatekeeper as the manager of the realm and secondly, a beast might do a better job.” “Milo.” “What?” He balked at the notion, looking between Malcolm and I like we were the ones being crazy for taking precautions. “We did not give Belladonna that book to have her send you out on her own personalized mission.” “Belladonna is not going to harm me,” I reasoned. “And on top of that, this is kind of my mess. My life, remember? If anyone is going to be having a say in how the lights are coming back on, it probably should be me.” “What about Hazel?” It was the equivalent of a low blow. I felt it. Because in a perfect world, I would be here. I would be dedicating every second I could to trying to help her. Into bringing her back to me. Ridding her of whatever was keeping her locked in the nightmare she was clearly in. But people were dying. Every day that passed, more and more people were succumbing to the Nothing. They were clawing and scraping their way to the life they deserved and then without even a second moment of warning, they were gone. Forever dismantled in the wake of the void. “I am not giving up on Hazel,” I told him. “But I have to do something about everything else. It’s all intertwined. It has to be. And //when// Hazel gets her memory back, she would be devastated if I had chosen her over trying to save our home.” Milo looked angry. But he had been in this position as well. The very unfortunate truth that broke my heart, was that Hazel oftentimes was left behind. Forgotten to something more important. It brought tears to my eyes just thinking about it. My smart, beautiful girl. “You shouldn’t be gone for long,” Malcolm said softly. “I’ll do some reconnaissance work while you are. We’ll figure out what our next move with Hazel is going to be.” “You cannot be serious,” Milo stated. “You’re letting ?them go?” It was his last ditch attempt. Because maybe he couldn’t get me to see reason, but he was positive that Malcolm could. [[Letting me?]] [[Milo, everything will be fine]] [[You don’t get to take ownership of me, Gatekeeper]] “Letting me?” I asked with a raised brow. “Milo, no one is ‘letting me’ do anything. I get to make my own decisions, remember?” He flinched. “I know that but–” I raised my hand, stopping him. “Listen, I get that you are concerned. I think there is every reason to be concerned. But you do not control me. Malcolm does not control me. And neither does Belladonna Malady.” The words washed over him with a firm hand. Looking back, I had let far too many control my actions. Too many have influence on how I should conduct myself. I wanted to make a point that it would go no further. Sliding a hand across his face, Milo conceded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. Of course you have your own agency. I’m just worried. And I have a right to be worried since I know better than you what is out there.” “Then be worried but also trust that I can make my own decision,” I told him. There was nothing he could say to that. I knew the issue was not laid to rest but it at least stopped the argument at hand. Milo closed his eyes and counted under his breath. When he opened them again, he was on my side. Ready and willing to fight for whatever was needed. “I can’t do much within the market,” he said softly. “But, I can ask a few people at the Star Sanctuary if they know any ways of breaking spells. Or seeing how we can find the source of a spell without actually getting into the Apothecary. Lucinda made a lot of enemies. Maybe I can drudge a few up.” “Don’t do anything without my permission,” I told him. A strange thing happened then. A whip of light wrapped around his arm. He didn’t seem to notice it, but I certainly did. Malcolm as well. “I won’t,” Milo said. “But do I have your permission to move on something if you don’t return home?” “No.” His jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together. “Let’s just go see Belladonna and see what it is she has in the works,” Malcolm said. “Agreed.” I went to gather my shoes. My jacket. Giving both Milo and Malcolm a moment together. When I looked over my shoulder, Malcolm was dipping his head close to Milo, saying something that Milo clearly didn’t like. But nothing more came of it. Not now. When Malcolm moved to go get his own jacket, I noticed Milo was breathing slowly, taking a moment for myself. When he turned to me, he seemed much calmer. “How long do you want to give Hazel before we force Lucinda’s hand?” he asked. “I don’t know yet, Milo.” “I would like it if you would tell me when you make your move. I know that you don’t necessarily trust me but, I… I don’t want Hazel to be stuck in this state. She really did love you. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone.” [[And then you killed me]] [[I love her, too]] [[We’ll get her back]] “Milo, everything will be fine. I’m not going to just go walking out there without more information. And I’m certainly not going to do it alone. But all we have to go on right now is a little piece of paper. You are jumping to conclusions.” He opened his mouth just to close it again. How quickly he had risen to such heights over the mere possibility of me going into the Outlands was rather impressive. But he seemed to understand that maybe he had gotten himself worked up a little too soon. Head hanging, he took a deep breath to control himself. “I’m sorry,” he said firmly. “The world has me a bit on edge.” “It does all of us,” I told him. “Which is why I need to follow a lead if there is one.” “No. You’re right. You are. But just– please make sure you don’t do this alone. I’ve been to the Outlands. Quite a lot. And I barely got out alive. I don’t want you to come back into our lives just to be taken out by some foul creature out there.” “Rather the one at a ball?” I said, with this time only a hint of mirth in my voice. He gave me a hesitant smile at the joke. “Exactly.” Closing his eyes, Milo counted under his breath. When he opened them again, he was on my side. Ready and willing to fight for whatever was needed. “I can’t do much within the market,” he said softly. “But, I can ask a few people at the Star Sanctuary if they know any ways of breaking spells. Or seeing how we can find the source of a spell without actually getting into the Apothecary. Lucinda made a lot of enemies. Maybe I can drudge a few up.” “Don’t do anything without my permission,” I told him. A strange thing happened then. A whip of light wrapped around his arm. He didn’t seem to notice it, but I certainly did. Malcolm as well. “I won’t,” Milo said. “But do I have your permission to move on something if you don’t return home?” “No.” His jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together. “Let’s just go see Belladonna and see what it is she has in the works,” Malcolm said. “Agreed.” I went to gather my shoes. My jacket. Giving both Milo and Malcolm a moment together. When I looked over my shoulder, Malcolm was dipping his head close to Milo, saying something that Milo clearly didn’t like. But nothing more came of it. Not now. When Malcolm moved to go get his own jacket, I noticed Milo was breathing slowly, taking a moment for myself. When he turned to me, he seemed much calmer. “How long do you want to give Hazel before we force Lucinda’s hand?” he asked. “I don’t know yet, Milo.” “I would like it if you would tell me when you make your move. I know that you don’t necessarily trust me but, I… I don’t want Hazel to be stuck in this state. She really did love you. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone.” [[And then you killed me]] [[I love her, too]] [[We’ll get her back]] “You don’t get to take ownership of me, Gatekeeper,” I said, my voice strangely level. “Do not forget the mistakes that you made. The series of events that brought us to this moment and the part you had in them. If I choose to go out to the Outlands to fix what has been done to //my// realm, all you get to do is ask how you can help. Do you understand?” Milo stared at me, fists curling at his sides. But I wasn’t going to let him take control of this situation. Hazel was the woman I loved. This market was my responsibility. And while I may not know what the answer was to either of the situations that were brewing, I was also not going to shy away from making decisions about it all. Not anymore. “Fine,” Milo said through gritted teeth. “What would you like me to do while you are gone?” His voice was sickly sweet and while I had little doubt he would follow my orders, he was not going to do so kindly. “Rethink the attitude, Button,” Malcolm warned. I raised my hand, signaling Malcolm not to interfere. [[He is right. Rethink the attitude]] [[Help Malcolm]] [[I trust you to know what to do. Just as I need you to trust me]] “He’s right, Milo. You need to rethink your attitude. You and I are not always going to get along but we will have to work together. That doesn’t mean you get to throw your weight around.” “I’m not throwing my fucking weight around!” The shout cracked across the room, shocking even Milo. I didn’t think he realized how wound up he had been until this moment in time. Taking a step back from us, he blinked. But neither Malcolm nor I called him on it. Instead, we just let the silence speak for itself. Milo closed his eyes and counted under his breath. When he opened them again, he was on my side. Ready and willing to fight for whatever was needed. “I can’t do much within the market,” he said softly. “But, I can ask a few people at the Star Sanctuary if they know any ways of breaking spells. Or seeing how we can find the source of a spell without actually getting into the Apothecary. Lucinda made a lot of enemies. Maybe I can drudge a few up.” “Don’t do anything without my permission,” I told him. A strange thing happened then. A whip of light wrapped around his arm. He didn’t seem to notice it, but I certainly did. Malcolm as well. “I won’t,” Milo said. “But do I have your permission to move on something if you don’t return home?” “No.” His jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together. “Let’s just go see Belladonna and see what it is she has in the works,” Malcolm said. “Agreed.” I went to gather my shoes. My jacket. Giving both Milo and Malcolm a moment together. When I looked over my shoulder, Malcolm was dipping his head close to Milo, saying something that Milo clearly didn’t like. But nothing more came of it. Not now. When Malcolm moved to go get his own jacket, I noticed Milo was breathing slowly, taking a moment for himself. When he turned to me, he seemed much calmer. “How long do you want to give Hazel before we force Lucinda’s hand?” he asked. “I don’t know yet, Milo.” “I would like it if you would tell me when you make your move. I know that you don’t necessarily trust me but, I… I don’t want Hazel to be stuck in this state. She really did love you. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone.” [[And then you killed me]] [[I love her, too]] [[We’ll get her back]] “Help Malcolm,” I told him. “If there is somewhere you need to be putting your energy, then you and Malcolm should be working together to try and figure out what is happening with Hazel. Despite current circumstances, you two worked together at one point, didn’t you?” Malcolm laughed a little. “Against, actually.” “Rival gangs.” I sighed. Because of course they did. “Well, then how about you both try something new.” Milo closed his eyes and counted under his breath. When he opened them again, he was on my side. Ready and willing to fight for whatever was needed. “I can’t do much within the market,” he said softly. “But, I can ask a few people at the Star Sanctuary if they know any ways of breaking spells. Or seeing how we can find the source of a spell without actually getting into the Apothecary. Lucinda made a lot of enemies. Maybe I can drudge a few up.” “Don’t do anything without my permission,” I told him. A strange thing happened then. A whip of light wrapped around his arm. He didn’t seem to notice it, but I certainly did. Malcolm as well. “I won’t,” Milo said. “But do I have your permission to move on something if you don’t return home?” “No.” His jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together. “Let’s just go see Belladonna and see what it is she has in the works,” Malcolm said. “Agreed.” I went to gather my shoes. My jacket. Giving both Milo and Malcolm a moment together. When I looked over my shoulder, Malcolm was dipping his head close to Milo, saying something that Milo clearly didn’t like. But nothing more came of it. Not now. When Malcolm moved to go get his own jacket, I noticed Milo was breathing slowly, taking a moment for himself. When he turned to me, he seemed much calmer. “How long do you want to give Hazel before we force Lucinda’s hand?” he asked. “I don’t know yet, Milo.” “I would like it if you would tell me when you make your move. I know that you don’t necessarily trust me but, I… I don’t want Hazel to be stuck in this state. She really did love you. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone.” [[And then you killed me]] [[I love her, too]] [[We’ll get her back]] “I trust you to know what to do in my absence,” I told him. “And in return, I need you to trust me.” Trust me. Trust him. It was a fundamental block in a foundation that had never been there. But we had to rebuild it. We had to stand strong if only so we could bring Hazel back out of this. Bring her home. Milo closed his eyes and counted under his breath. When he opened them again, he was on my side. Ready and willing to fight for whatever was needed. “I can’t do much within the market,” he said softly. “But, I can ask a few people at the Star Sanctuary if they know any ways of breaking spells. Or seeing how we can find the source of a spell without actually getting into the Apothecary. Lucinda made a lot of enemies. Maybe I can drudge a few up.” “Don’t do anything without my permission,” I told him. A strange thing happened then. A whip of light wrapped around his arm. He didn’t seem to notice it, but I certainly did. Malcolm as well. “I won’t,” Milo said. “But do I have your permission to move on something if you don’t return home?” “No.” His jaw clicked as he ground his teeth together. “Let’s just go see Belladonna and see what it is she has in the works,” Malcolm said. “Agreed.” I went to gather my shoes. My jacket. Giving both Milo and Malcolm a moment together. When I looked over my shoulder, Malcolm was dipping his head close to Milo, saying something that Milo clearly didn’t like. But nothing more came of it. Not now. When Malcolm moved to go get his own jacket, I noticed Milo was breathing slowly, taking a moment for himself. When he turned to me, he seemed much calmer. “How long do you want to give Hazel before we force Lucinda’s hand?” he asked. “I don’t know yet, Milo.” “I would like it if you would tell me when you make your move. I know that you don’t necessarily trust me but, I… I don’t want Hazel to be stuck in this state. She really did love you. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone.” [[And then you killed me]] [[I love her, too]] [[We’ll get her back]] “And then you killed me,” I said. “For someone that is so concerned over her, you didn’t seem to think through what my death my actually do to the woman you call a sister.” His eyes glowed bright, a sharp edge to them. “I thought of it,” he said. “I just decided that the world needed taken care of before her love life.” I smiled at him, a chilled tint to my lips. “Then we are all making decisions that the other doesn’t understand. Have a little grace, Milo. Yours is not the only opinion that matters in this group.” Milo breathed deeply, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I follow your lead, Night Market.” Everything in him wanted to rip Hazel from Lucinda’s grasp. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him or for Malcolm. Having watched Hazel grow up with the abuse only to escape it when Lucinda died. But as with most things within the Night Market, the dead did not always stay dead. Behind me, Malcolm opened the door. We filed out one by one into the dripping tunnels that would lead us out on the ever darkening streets. With only a dim light to guide us, we headed towards the cathedral. The idea of the Outlands looming in all our minds. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]]“I love her, too,” I told him. “I love her more than anything in this world. I made myself for her.” “So then why aren’t you fighting for her?” He asked the question with no accusation. Only a heartbreaking fear. “I am fighting for her. Getting the lights back on. Not letting Lucinda win whatever game she is playing. Making this world safe for her? That is fighting for her, Milo. Forcibly tearing her away is not fighting for her. It’s just being like everyone else that came before.” His head hung in shame, but he did not disagree. “I follow your lead, Night Market.” Everything in him wanted to rip Hazel from Lucinda’s grasp. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him or for Malcolm. Having watched Hazel grow up with the abuse only to escape it when Lucinda died. But as with most things within the Night Market, the dead did not always stay dead. Behind me, Malcolm opened the door. We filed out one by one into the dripping tunnels that would lead us out on the ever darkening streets. With only a dim light to guide us, we headed towards the cathedral. The idea of the Outlands looming in all our minds. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]] I swallowed thickly, my gaze ticking away. “We’ll get her back,” I said. “Lucinda will slip up. People like her always do. It’ll be better if Hazel can see her mother for what she is with her own eyes. It will require patience on our part but if this is her choice, maybe this time it will stick.” Milo breathed deeply, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I follow your lead, Night Market.” Everything in him wanted to rip Hazel from Lucinda’s grasp. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for him or for Malcolm. Having watched Hazel grow up with the abuse only to escape it when Lucinda died. But as with most things within the Night Market, the dead did not always stay dead. Behind me, Malcolm opened the door. We filed out one by one into the dripping tunnels that would lead us out on the ever darkening streets. With only a dim light to guide us, we headed towards the cathedral. The idea of the Outlands looming in all our minds. [[Next|Milo/Mal Outlands]]“Am I interrupting something?” There was sweat on Milo’s brow and a drawn look to his face. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, staring at the floor. “Milo and I were just talking,” Malcolm said. “There are some things we need to get out in the open between us.” I looked at Milo curiously. It didn’t look as if Milo exactly agreed with that sentiment. “But you didn’t come here for us. Has something happened?” I looked nervously at Milo. I wasn’t sure this was a conversation I wanted to have with him in the room. I didn’t even know if I wanted him in the room. Then again, I had the two foremost experts on Hazel right in front of me. There was the possibility that whatever Malcolm couldn’t fill in, Milo could. “Who is Laikin?” I asked. Malcolm blinked in recognition. The name was familiar but it was one he hadn’t recalled in a long time. Milo didn’t seem as surprised, however. Instead, he just pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the counter. “You know who he is,” Milo said. “He was at the ball. Did he not introduce himself?” “He did,” I said slowly. “But who is he to Hazel exactly?” Malcolm walked over to the stove, beginning to make some tea. The action was so reminiscent to something Hazel would have done that I felt that familiar tug on my heart. “He was a kindly old man who paid attention to us as kids. I know Hazel had occasionally taken lunch with him. I didn’t know if she kept it up while I was dead.” “She did,” Milo confirmed. “Once a year, every year.” “That’s odd, right?” I asked. “We know that’s odd.” “It’s odd,” Milo agreed. Malcolm frowned. “I know what it looks like but he never was unkind. I think we must have reminded him of his children or something. He never did anything untowards. Why do you ask, Lamplight?” [[You guys may or may not have been groomed by a demon]] [[Because the man's a demon and may hate Lucinda]] [[Because he’s a creepy demon who decided to set his eyes on me]] “What is he doing here?” I asked. Milo’s eyes ticked towards Malcolm, leaning on him for an answer. “I asked him to come and talk.” “About?” “Hazel. You. The state of the market.” Malcolm stepped forward so he stood between the two of us. “We could use a break, however. What is it you wanted to ask me?” I looked nervously at Milo. I wasn’t sure this was a conversation I wanted to have with him in the room. I didn’t even know if I wanted him in the room. Then again, I had the two foremost experts on Hazel right in front of me. There was the possibility that whatever Malcolm couldn’t fill in, Milo could. “Who is Laikin?” I asked. Malcolm blinked in recognition. The name was familiar but it was one he hadn’t recalled in a long time. Milo didn’t seem as surprised, however. Instead, he just pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the counter. “You know who he is,” Milo said. “He was at the ball. Did he not introduce himself?” “He did,” I said slowly. “But who is he to Hazel exactly?” Malcolm walked over to the stove, beginning to make some tea. The action was so reminiscent to something Hazel would have done that I felt that familiar tug on my heart. “He was a kindly old man who paid attention to us as kids. I know Hazel had occasionally taken lunch with him. I didn’t know if she kept it up while I was dead.” “She did,” Milo confirmed. “Once a year, every year.” “That’s odd, right?” I asked. “We know that’s odd.” “It’s odd,” Milo agreed. Malcolm frowned. “I know what it looks like but he never was unkind. I think we must have reminded him of his children or something. He never did anything untowards. Why do you ask, Lamplight?” [[You guys may or may not have been groomed by a demon]] [[Because the man's a demon and may hate Lucinda]] [[Because he’s a creepy demon who decided to set his eyes on me]] I frowned in slight concern. “What happened?” I asked. Milo didn’t look hurt but he looked scared. A little weak in the knees. When I asked the question, he only closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing instead. “Nightmare,” Malcolm told me. “He’s just struggling to get through it. It’ll be okay.” I didn’t know if I should press further. Milo looked like he was going to be sick which led me to believe it was far more than a simple nightmare. But Malcolm was not one to divulge others secrets. “You said you wanted to ask me something?’ he prompted. I looked nervously at Milo. I wasn’t sure this was a conversation I wanted to have with him in the room. I didn’t even know if I wanted him in the room. Then again, I had the two foremost experts on Hazel right in front of me. There was the possibility that whatever Malcolm couldn’t fill in, Milo could. “Who is Laikin?” I asked. Malcolm blinked in recognition. The name was familiar but it was one he hadn’t recalled in a long time. Milo didn’t seem as surprised, however. Instead, he just pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the counter. “You know who he is,” Milo said. “He was at the ball. Did he not introduce himself?” “He did,” I said slowly. “But who is he to Hazel exactly?” Malcolm walked over to the stove, beginning to make some tea. The action was so reminiscent to something Hazel would have done that I felt that familiar tug on my heart. “He was a kindly old man who paid attention to us as kids. I know Hazel had occasionally taken lunch with him. I didn’t know if she kept it up while I was dead.” “She did,” Milo confirmed. “Once a year, every year.” “That’s odd, right?” I asked. “We know that’s odd.” “It’s odd,” Milo agreed. Malcolm frowned. “I know what it looks like but he never was unkind. I think we must have reminded him of his children or something. He never did anything untowards. Why do you ask, Lamplight?” [[You guys may or may not have been groomed by a demon]] [[Because the man's a demon and may hate Lucinda]] [[Because he’s a creepy demon who decided to set his eyes on me]] “You guys may or may not have been groomed by a demon,” I stated. Looking over his shoulder, Malcolm slowly took the kettle off the stove. “I’m afraid you are going to have to perhaps explain things a bit more,” he told me. “Laikin is a what?” “A demon,” I said. “One that’s been around since the two of you were kids. It’s not painting a good picture.” “Fuck, I knew there was something off about that guy,” Milo muttered. “$name,” Malcolm began, still keeping his calm. “Explain more.” “He was outside the three tiered fountain. I went there after everything. I didn’t recognize him at first but the more I talked to him…” “What exactly did he say?” Milo asked. “I’m struggling to get to the part where he’s a demon. Aren’t demons not allowed in the Night Market?” I knew nothing really about that but it seemed like one of those rules that would be put in place. One of the ones made to keep people safe but in theory, was nothing more than a few dozen words strung together. “He is worried about Hazel,” I told them. “He knows of Lucinda and the kinds of things she can do. And he knew that Hazel and I were together. He wanted to make a deal with me.” “A what?” Never before had I quite heard Milo and Mal’s tone sound so similar. “You said no, right?” Milo asked. <<if $laikindeal == "true">> I stared at the two of them. “About that…” “You what?” Milo nearly exploded to his feet, beginning to pace the room as if it were on fire. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew it. I knew there was something weird about that guy. Of course he’s a fucking demon. Why are you even making a deal with one, $name?” “I don’t know what else to do,” I said. “Hazel is in trouble. We have no leads. I want an ace up my sleeve when it comes to Lucinda and I just got served one on a silver platter.” “At what price?” Milo’s arms flew into the air in frustration. “They twist words. They twist everything. Do you know how to be careful when dealing with a demon? You don’t make deals with them!” “Arlight,” Malcolm shouted over Milo. “Stand down, Milo. Let Lamplight speak while you breathe somewhere for a minute.” “It’s a //demon//, Mal.” “And you were in bed with Taliesin so don’t you start with me.” That shut Milo up quickly, the man's face growing pale as he took a few steps back. Even Malcolm looked as if he regretted his words. But he would deal with that later. It was clear I was the subject of the hour. “What was the deal?” he asked slowly. “A boon in exchange for blood.” “You gave a demon your blood?” Milo shrieked. “Mal, talk some sense into your Lamplight because it doesn’t seem to be ?their strong suit!” “Milo,” Malcolm snapped. “Stop.” Milo continued to mutter to himself but did seem to back away. Meanwhile, Malcolm was looking at me and to his credit, he mostly looked calm. I knew him after all these years, however, and the storm that was raging within was battering against all his walls. “What is the boon?” “Something I can use against Lucinda.” He had already expected as much and simply nodded his head as he broke eye contact with me. “I’m not going to say I’m thrilled with your decision. But, I also have no qualms with Laikin. I can’t imagine him befriending Hazle all these years just to get to the Night Market.” “You can’t?” Milo asked. “That doesn’t seem like an absolutely unhinged thing someone in this world would do?” Milo was pacing now, his feet making a path across the wooden floor. “What’s done is done,” I told Milo. “Now, we just have to figure out what our next move with Hazel is.” Neither of them looked particularly thrilled over this new information. And as for me, I was still coming to terms with it all. <<elseif $laikindeal == "false">> “No,” I said. “Of course not.” It had been tempting. A way to just get rid of Lucinda. But there was a nagging sort of voice in the back of my mind that said I would simply be trading one horror for another. What concerned me for more was the fact that Malcolm and Hazel hadn’t known of his true nature. For years this man had been coming around and yet he had presented himself as nothing more than some sort of kind man, taking an interest in two fatherless children.<</if>> “Did you guys really not know he was a demon?” I asked Malcolm. He shook his head. “I really don’t know much about him. When we were kids, it was all about us. It wasn’t like we were aware enough to ask any questions. And then when I was older, I just didn’t join Hazel on the lunches as much.” “Why not?” His eyes ticked to Milo. “Because I had other interests at the time.” Milo waved. “Hi. I was the other interest.” Coming fully into the room, I leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to make sense of it all. While Malcolm hadn’t known that Laikin was a demon, there was a part of me that wondered if Hazel did. What other kinds of secrets was my love keeping. [[What’s the likelihood that Laikin is on Lucinda’s side?]] [[What’s the likelihood that Hazel has already made a deal with Laikin?]] [[Do we trust Laikin if things with Lucinda get rough?]] “Because the man is a demon and may hate Lucinda.” There wasn’t really a good way to put it. Especially given that this particular man had been circling Hazel for quite a few years. The kettle dropped, water splashing everywhere. I didn’t think it was possible to truly shock Malcolm but apparently there was a first for everything. Slowly, he turned. “Excuse me?” “Is it a surprise that someone hates your mother?” I tried to ease the tension a bit. “He’s a what now?” Malcolm apparently didn’t find it amusing, however. “He was outside the three tiered fountain. I went there after everything. I didn’t recognize him at first but the more I talked to him…” “What exactly did he say?” Milo asked. “I’m struggling to get to the part where he’s a demon. Aren’t demons not allowed in the Night Market?” I knew nothing really about that but it seemed like one of those rules that would be put in place. One of the ones made to keep people safe but in theory, was nothing more than a few dozen words strung together. “He is worried about Hazel,” I told them. “He knows of Lucinda and the kinds of things she can do. And he knew that Hazel and I were together. He wanted to make a deal with me.” “A what?” Never before had I quite heard Milo and Mal’s tone sound so similar. “You said no, right?” Milo asked. <<if $laikindeal == "true">> I stared at the two of them. “About that…” “You what?” Milo nearly exploded to his feet, beginning to pace the room as if it were on fire. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew it. I knew there was something weird about that guy. Of course he’s a fucking demon. Why are you even making a deal with one, $name?” “I don’t know what else to do,” I said. “Hazel is in trouble. We have no leads. I want an ace up my sleeve when it comes to Lucinda and I just got served one on a silver platter.” “At what price?” Milo’s arms flew into the air in frustration. “They twist words. They twist everything. Do you know how to be careful when dealing with a demon? You don’t make deals with them!” “Arlight,” Malcolm shouted over Milo. “Stand down, Milo. Let Lamplight speak while you breathe somewhere for a minute.” “It’s a //demon//, Mal.” “And you were in bed with Taliesin so don’t you start with me.” That shut Milo up quickly, the man's face growing pale as he took a few steps back. Even Malcolm looked as if he regretted his words. But he would deal with that later. It was clear I was the subject of the hour. “What was the deal?” he asked slowly. “A boon in exchange for blood.” “You gave a demon your blood?” Milo shrieked. “Mal, talk some sense into your Lamplight because it doesn’t seem to be ?their strong suit!” “Milo,” Malcolm snapped. “Stop.” Milo continued to mutter to himself but did seem to back away. Meanwhile, Malcolm was looking at me and to his credit, he mostly looked calm. I knew him after all these years, however, and the storm that was raging within was battering against all his walls. “What is the boon?” “Something I can use against Lucinda.” He had already expected as much and simply nodded his head as he broke eye contact with me. “I’m not going to say I’m thrilled with your decision. But, I also have no qualms with Laikin. I can’t imagine him befriending Hazle all these years just to get to the Night Market.” “You can’t?” Milo asked. “That doesn’t seem like an absolutely unhinged thing someone in this world would do?” Milo was pacing now, his feet making a path across the wooden floor. “What’s done is done,” I told Milo. “Now, we just have to figure out what our next move with Hazel is.” Neither of them looked particularly thrilled over this new information. And as for me, I was still coming to terms with it all. <<elseif $laikindeal == "false">> “No,” I said. “Of course not.” It had been tempting. A way to just get rid of Lucinda. But there was a nagging sort of voice in the back of my mind that said I would simply be trading one horror for another. What concerned me for more was the fact that Malcolm and Hazel hadn’t known of his true nature. For years this man had been coming around and yet he had presented himself as nothing more than some sort of kind man, taking an interest in two fatherless children.<</if>> “Did you guys really not know he was a demon?” I asked Malcolm. He shook his head. “I really don’t know much about him. When we were kids, it was all about us. It wasn’t like we were aware enough to ask any questions. And then when I was older, I just didn’t join Hazel on the lunches as much.” “Why not?” His eyes ticked to Milo. “Because I had other interests at the time.” Milo waved. “Hi. I was the other interest.” Coming fully into the room, I leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to make sense of it all. While Malcolm hadn’t known that Laikin was a demon, there was a part of me that wondered if Hazel did. What other kinds of secrets was my love keeping. [[What’s the likelihood that Laikin is on Lucinda’s side?]] [[What’s the likelihood that Hazel has already made a deal with Laikin?]] [[Do we trust Laikin if things with Lucinda get rough?]] “Because he’s a creepy demon who decided to set his eyes on me.” The kettle dropped, water splashing everywhere. I didn’t think it was possible to truly shock Malcolm but apparently there was a first for everything. Slowly, he turned. “Excuse me?” “He was outside the three tiered fountain. I went there after everything. I didn’t recognize him at first but the more I talked to him…” “What exactly did he say?” Milo asked. “I’m struggling to get to the part where he’s a demon. Aren’t demons not allowed in the Night Market?” I knew nothing really about that but it seemed like one of those rules that would be put in place. One of the ones made to keep people safe but in theory, was nothing more than a few dozen words strung together. “He is worried about Hazel,” I told them. “He knows of Lucinda and the kinds of things she can do. And he knew that Hazel and I were together. He wanted to make a deal with me.” “A what?” Never before had I quite heard Milo and Mal’s tone sound so similar. “You said no, right?” Milo asked. <<if $laikindeal == "true">> I stared at the two of them. “About that…” “You what?” Milo nearly exploded to his feet, beginning to pace the room as if it were on fire. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew it. I knew there was something weird about that guy. Of course he’s a fucking demon. Why are you even making a deal with one, $name?” “I don’t know what else to do,” I said. “Hazel is in trouble. We have no leads. I want an ace up my sleeve when it comes to Lucinda and I just got served one on a silver platter.” “At what price?” Milo’s arms flew into the air in frustration. “They twist words. They twist everything. Do you know how to be careful when dealing with a demon? You don’t make deals with them!” “Alright,” Malcolm shouted over Milo. “Stand down, Milo. Let Lamplight speak while you breathe somewhere for a minute.” “It’s a //demon//, Mal.” “And you were in bed with Taliesin so don’t you start with me.” That shut Milo up quickly, the man's face growing pale as he took a few steps back. Even Malcolm looked as if he regretted his words. But he would deal with that later. It was clear I was the subject of the hour. “What was the deal?” he asked slowly. “A boon in exchange for blood.” “You gave a demon your blood?” Milo shrieked. “Mal, talk some sense into your Lamplight because it doesn’t seem to be ?their strong suit!” “Milo,” Malcolm snapped. “Stop.” Milo continued to mutter to himself but did seem to back away. Meanwhile, Malcolm was looking at me and to his credit, he mostly looked calm. I knew him after all these years, however, and the storm that was raging within was battering against all his walls. “What is the boon?” “Something I can use against Lucinda.” He had already expected as much and simply nodded his head as he broke eye contact with me. “I’m not going to say I’m thrilled with your decision. But, I also have no qualms with Laikin. I can’t imagine him befriending Hazle all these years just to get to the Night Market.” “You can’t?” Milo asked. “That doesn’t seem like an absolutely unhinged thing someone in this world would do?” Milo was pacing now, his feet making a path across the wooden floor. “What’s done is done,” I told Milo. “Now, we just have to figure out what our next move with Hazel is.” Neither of them looked particularly thrilled over this new information. And as for me, I was still coming to terms with it all. <<elseif $laikindeal == "false">> “Of course I did.” It had been tempting. A way to just get rid of Lucinda. But there was a nagging sort of voice in the back of my mind that said I would simply be trading one horror for another. What concerned me for more was the fact that Malcolm and Hazel hadn’t known of his true nature. For years this man had been coming around and yet he had presented himself as nothing more than some sort of kind man, taking an interest in two fatherless children.<</if>> “Did you guys really not know he was a demon?” I asked Malcolm. He shook his head. “I really don’t know much about him. When we were kids, it was all about us. It wasn’t like we were aware enough to ask any questions. And then when I was older, I just didn’t join Hazel on the lunches as much.” “Why not?” His eyes ticked to Milo. “Because I had other interests at the time.” Milo waved. “Hi. I was the other interest.” Coming fully into the room, I leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to make sense of it all. While Malcolm hadn’t known that Laikin was a demon, there was a part of me that wondered if Hazel did. What other kinds of secrets was my love keeping. [[What’s the likelihood that Laikin is on Lucinda’s side?]] [[What’s the likelihood that Hazel has already made a deal with Laikin?]] [[Do we trust Laikin if things with Lucinda get rough?]] “What is the likelihood that Laikin is on Lucinda’s side?” The horrifying reality was, the man could have been one of Lucinda’s agents all along. Simply posing as an ally just as all hope seemed lost. When we needed someone. But potentially, solidifying Lucinda’s hold on her daughter. Malcolm was shaking his head, however. “No. No, I was there when Hazel explained that Lucinda had died. Laikin actually sought her out when he heard the news. He wanted to check on her. And the man looked downright gleeful that she was dead. I doubt that he’s in league with Lucinda.” “That actually makes me like him a little more,” Milo muttered. “I don’t know what he was doing near the apothecary today,” Malcolm said. “But I’m not sure he’s a threat. I’m not saying we run to him for help but he might be someone we consider down the line?” I nodded. “Let’s just take Laikin out of this for a minute,” I said. “Keep him in mind for anything that goes down in the future but ultimately, this is on us. We need to try and figure something out to get Hazel away from Lucinda. The longer she’s there, the harder the spell is going to be to break.” “We could try luring her away again,” Malcolm said, looking just as tired as I felt. “But that seems like an impossibility. The only thing I can think of is to go there under the guise of peace. Pretend like whatever happened yesterday got through to me. But the very idea of it makes me want to throw up all over Lucinda’s perfectly pointed shoes.” “Does she have pointed shoes?” Milo asked. “Seems a little on the nose.” “We just need to get Hazel to trust us,” Malcolm said, ignoring Milo. “I guess being her brother isn’t enough for that.” “Well, I was her lover and I was erased from her thoughts so I’d say something is at work to break that trust.” “Have we considered it might not be Lucinda?” Both Malcolm and I stopped, turning to look at Milo. He held his hands up in the air, already knowing how unpopular of an opinion that would be. “I think Lucinda is involved. I really do. But, I also think it might be more complicated. Neither of you have known Hazel these last ten years or so. She would go to some extremes to avoid discomfort.” “Meaning?” Malcolm asked. His voice was dangerously close to falling over the edge. “Meaning, what if she forgot $name on purpose.” [[She wouldn’t do that]] [[Why would she do that]] [[No, I’ve thought of that too]] “What is the likelihood that Hazel has already made a deal with Laikin?” I asked. I hated that I said it. I didn’t want to believe that she would have done something like that. Especially without telling anyone. But when I thought back to the night of Malcolm’s return, the blood that dripped from her arms and the way she knelt crying in the middle of the apothecary, I knew anything with her was possible. When I met Milo’s eyes, I knew he was thinking the same thing. There was an undercurrent of very real power beneath Hazel’s baking and her herbal concoctions. And she was the kind of person who would stop at nothing for the person she loved. “I don’t think she would have made a deal with a demon,” Malcolm was saying, however. “She’s not like that.” “You’ve been dead, Mal,” Milo whispered. The look he gave Milo was murderous. A gentle reminder once again about how Malcolm had not been around. I wondered if that was part of their discussion before I had arrived. “Let’s just take Laikin out of this for a minute,” I said. “Keep him in mind for anything that goes down in the future but ultimately, this is on us. We need to try and figure something out to get Hazel away from Lucinda. The longer she’s there, the harder the spell is going to be to break.” “We could try luring her away again,” Malcolm said, looking just as tired as I felt. “But that seems like an impossibility. The only thing I can think of is to go there under the guise of peace. Pretend like whatever happened yesterday got through to me. But the very idea of it makes me want to throw up all over Lucinda’s perfectly pointed shoes.” “Does she have pointed shoes?” Milo asked. “Seems a little on the nose.” “We just need to get Hazel to trust us,” Malcolm said, ignoring Milo. “I guess being her brother isn’t enough for that.” “Well, I was her lover and I was erased from her thoughts so I’d say something is at work to break that trust.” “Have we considered it might not be Lucinda?” Both Malcolm and I stopped, turning to look at Milo. He held his hands up in the air, already knowing how unpopular of an opinion that would be. “I think Lucinda is involved. I really do. But, I also think it might be more complicated. Neither of you have known Hazel these last ten years or so. She would go to some extremes to avoid discomfort.” “Meaning?” Malcolm asked. His voice was dangerously close to falling over the edge. “Meaning, what if she forgot $name on purpose.” [[She wouldn’t do that]] [[Why would she do that]] [[No, I’ve thought of that too]] “Do we trust Laikin if things with Lucinda get rough?” I asked the two of them. It felt a bit like we were having to form our own army. But for Hazel, I was willing to do almost anything. “Of course we don’t trust him,” Milo was saying. Though Malcolm, as per usual, was looking at everything far more pragmatically. “We play it by ear. See what he can do. Right now, we don’t know enough about what is going on.” I nodded my head. “I can get behind that. We count him in if we have to but for now, we try to figure out this Hazel situation without him.” “By the land,” Milo said under his breath. “You're both nuts.” “When it comes down to it,” I continued. “We do need to try and figure something out sooner rather than later. I’m getting concerned that the longer Hazel is in Lucinda’s grasp, the harder it’s going to be to break whatever illusion is going on.” “We could try luring her away again,” Malcolm said, looking just as tired as I felt. “But that seems like an impossibility. The only thing I can think of is to go there under the guise of peace. Pretend like whatever happened yesterday got through to me. But the very idea of it makes me want to throw up all over Lucinda’s perfectly pointed shoes.” “Does she have pointed shoes?” Milo asked. “Seems a little on the nose.” “We just need to get Hazel to trust us,” Malcolm said, ignoring Milo. “I guess being her brother isn’t enough for that.” “Well, I was her lover and I was erased from her thoughts so I’d say something is at work to break that trust.” “Have we considered it might not be Lucinda?” Both Malcolm and I stopped, turning to look at Milo. He held his hands up in the air, already knowing how unpopular of an opinion that would be. “I think Lucinda is involved. I really do. But, I also think it might be more complicated. Neither of you have known Hazel these last ten years or so. She would go to some extremes to avoid discomfort.” “Meaning?” Malcolm asked. His voice was dangerously close to falling over the edge. “Meaning, what if she forgot $name on purpose.” [[She wouldn’t do that]] [[Why would she do that]] [[No, I’ve thought of that too]] “You seem anxious,” I stated, my eyes searching her for whatever I knew she was trying to keep quiet. There was a distinctly different tone to her now. This nearly frantic need for us to go and see these lanterns. She looked at me in shock. “Do you not feel it?” “The amount that I feel shifts daily. You will need to be more specific.” Her lips thinned. There was a strange tilt to her eyes and I couldn’t help but think her skin looked sallow. “The world is changing. Far too fast. And perhaps there is no validity to my worry but I had thought the world would have settled by now. I fear the shift is going to leave us standing here and recognizing only a fraction of our home.” The knowledge of it sat heavy in my gut. As if what was happening wasn’t enough. [[What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?|What are the odds 2]] [[I am not going alone|I am not going alone 2]] [[Is there a way to communicate back here once I get to the lanterns?|Is there a way 2]]“What if I get out there and feel nothing?” I asked her. The nebulous idea of going off of a gut feeling for a world teetering on the precipice was such an out there idea that I was already assuming failure. “Then you will do what I actually need you to do and get me a description of what those lanterns actually look like. As of right now, I don’t know the size of them. I don’t know if they are broken. I don’t know if they even can be lit. So if you do not get some sort of higher self feeling, then you do the practical thing and get me as much information as you possibly can.” That made me feel at least a little better. Like I had a direction to go. [[What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?|What are the odds 2]] [[I am not going alone|I am not going alone 2]] [[Is there a way to communicate back here once I get to the lanterns?|Is there a way 2]] “In the texts that you’ve looked over, have they said anything, anything at all, to hint that this has happened before?” The times that I had been here before felt incredibly unclear. Did the world change each time I went back? “The only reference to it that I found was when the ancients rose from beneath the market. But it is unclear whether or not there were even lanterns below, or if the lanterns did not come into existence until civilization came to be up top.” “We are in completely uncharted territory then.” She nodded. “I am documenting what we are going through in hopes of circumventing this from happening again.” [[What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?|What are the odds 2]] [[I am not going alone|I am not going alone 2]] [[Is there a way to communicate back here once I get to the lanterns?|Is there a way 2]]“What are the odds that this is a wild goose chase?” I asked her. “That these lanterns mean nothing and I am going to come back here and there is going to be no semblance of the market left.” “At least sixty percent,” she told me. “Great.” I guess I should have been more happy that it wasn’t more like eighty. “$name, if I had any other lead, I would have you explore it. But I don’t. This is genuinely all I’ve been able to come up with.” “It’s only been a day, Bella. If you need more time then–” “It hasn’t been only a day,” she snapped. She caught herself before she could continue, closing her eyes as if to gather her thoughts and compose her fear. “I’ve been looking into getting the lights back on since they were doused. And given the greasy notes that I have now seen scratched into Lucinda’s grimoire, I’m going to assume that the poor excuse for a Gatekeeper has also. This is what we have. This is what we are working with." We turned the corner, following the lines of the outer walls. The ones that separated us from the Outlands still were whole. They were the first that the Velvet Guard rebuilt. There was a large gated entrance there. The bars reached far higher than what I could fathom, spiraling upwards to pierce the stars. And there, in front of the gate, stood a man. [[Next|Deucalion Grey]]“I am not going alone,” I told her. “Even with some sort of map I won’t know how to get out there. I have no memory of the Outlands. I’m not sure I have even been there.” “It’s a part of you,” Belladonna stated. “That doesn’t mean I know where to go.” “We really must explore your memories when we have a moment. You should be the utmost authority on this world. Not a lost little lamb.” “Believe me, Bella. I am very aware of that.” We turned the corner, following the lines of the outer walls. The ones that separated us from the Outlands still were whole. They were the first that the Velvet Guard rebuilt. There was a large gated entrance there. The bars reached far higher than what I could fathom, spiraling upwards to pierce the stars. And there, in front of the gate, stood a man. [[Next|Deucalion Grey]]“Is there a way to communicate with you once I get to the lanterns?” I asked. The faster we could trade information the better. “Perhaps there is a ritual that can be performed,” she said. "If I had more time I would look into it. Perhaps for the next time you go out. Because I am afraid to state this, but there will be a next time, dear heart." "Of course there will." Because nothing could just be one and done. “But I am not sending you out alone. I have someone that will be guiding you. Contrary to popular belief, the Outlands are not completely abandoned and controlled by monsters. There are plenty who go out there. I have hired one such person to help you.” We turned the corner, following the lines of the outer walls. The ones that separated us from the Outlands still were whole. They were the first that the Velvet Guard rebuilt. There was a large gated entrance there. The bars reached far higher than what I could fathom, spiraling upwards to pierce the stars. And there, in front of the gate, stood a man. [[Next|Deucalion Grey]] I turned to Belladonna. For the first time, I saw her resolve breaking. To sit back and watch me travel into the unknown was not in her nature. There was a time that I knew she would have been right by my side. Belladonna did not shy away from hardships. But, by killing Kavatti, she had gotten everything she wanted. Power. The role of a Baron. Revenge on a woman who had slighted her so long ago. But the limitations it came with suddenly didn’t seem worth the price. Belladonna looked weak. Far more pale and sickly than I had ever seen him. The strength that she wielded before Baronhood was slowly waning. “I’ll come back,” I reassured her. “Of course you will.” It was said with a flippancy that suggested that she was supposed to be the one encouraging me. “If Deucalion even once steps out of line, remind him of the deal I have made with him.” “I don’t know of the deal you made with him.” She sighed, rolling her eyes a bit. “You are not supposed to, my heart. But, simply just let him know that there is a certain art dealer who I could have here in an instant. Gate or no gate.” I wasn’t even going to pretend like I knew what Belladonna meant. <<if $gppoly == "true">> “Will you watch over Gabriel while I am gone?” “Of course I will.” It really shouldn’t have even been a question. Even if Belladonna was not physically by his side, she would make sure she had eyes on him at all times. “I wish I could ask him to do the same for you,” I said. “If Gabriel was at his full capacity this would be an entirely different conversation,” she reasoned. “Do not make him into a saint, please. Most of the people in the Outlands are there because of the dear Warden.” It was something I was trying not to think too hard on. Not while he was sick and in bed.<</if>> “I will come home,” I told her firmly. “I will come home and we will figure all of this out. You don’t have to do this alone, Bella.” “I’m not doing it alone,” she said. “You are going to the Outlands, are you not?” It was my turn to give her one of those withering looks. “I never noticed how much you deflected before.” “I will have to get better at it if you are noticing.” She stepped forward in a flash, standing right in front of me with her lips mere inches from mine. I could smell the night jasmine and grave dirt that was her perfume. Hear the way the faint flutter of wings always whispered around her. “I will be very upset if you do not return to me, my muse,” she murmured. I felt a shudder roll down my spine. “Do not disappoint me.” Before I could respond, she was gone. A lingering of shadows and wings was in her place as she dissipated into the night. She left me with my heart pounding and a newfound desire to simply come home. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>> I turned to Belladonna, Milo and Malcolm. “Well,” Bella started. “I need to get back to the cathedral. There was a literal bloodbath happening when I left and I do need to attend to it.” She stepped up to me, sighing a little as her eyes took me in. “Come back to us,” she whispered. “Do not lose yourself in the dark please.” “I won’t.” She disappeared in a flutter of wings, one of which brushed against my shoulder. I felt something shiver through me. A blessing and a curse all at once. Despite her not being with me, I had a feeling her eyes would still be upon me. I turned towards the two men in front of me then, my lips twitching in amusement at the sight they made. Milo had his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot in impatience, while Malcolm stood by his side, arms crossed in front of himself. “This is bullshit,” Milo finally burst out. “This is absolute bullshit.” “Want to elaborate, Button?” Malcolm drawled. “I don’t think you quite made it known up until now how much you disagree with this plan.” Milo shot him a look. “Sarcasm noted, jackass.” Stepping forward, I shook my head. “I’ll be in and out,” I told Milo. “Belladonna’s right. This is our only lead.” “I just don’t understand why I can’t go with you,” Milo muttered. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> The undercurrent of the statement was clear. Why did he have to stay while Malcolm did not?<</if>> [[You know the reasons why]] [[Yesterday I couldn't even get you to look at me]] [[You can be here for me when I get home]] <<if $outlandsdeucalion == "true" or $outlandshandt == "true">>[[You and Malcolm can be waiting for me when I get home]]<</if>> I turned to Belladonna. The expression on my face I was sure was weary. Just as hers was. "I will take care of things while you are gone," she assured me. "Watch over Gabriel and Hazel. I’m not sure if there is anything I can do but the madness will not be flooding into our streets. And Lucinda will know her presence is not welcome." Blood had been spilled. The naivety that I would have to assume to believe that it had not been done before was at a level that not even I could convince myself of. Gabriel had done wrong. There would be harsh consequences for it. And as for Hazel. For Lucinda. The manipulation that was being wove into the very core of our group, the repercussions of such a thing would reach for miles. "Do you see either of them returning from this?" I asked, my voice raspy. There was a tightness around Belladonna’s lips. A gathering of words were wrapping around her tongue and yet she did not say what she thought. That alone was enough to cause me fear. She didn’t blink as she stared at me. And that in itself was answer enough. “Come home soon, $name. I will be awaiting your return.” She dissipated into a flutter of shadow and wings, the wind brushing against my cheeks as she went off into the night. My heart ached with the knowledge of the fallen angel, tucked away in his bed. I wanted nothing more than to be by his side. But as long as the world was dark, my place would never be next to him. Not while the madness still reigned and the realm continued to suffer. It was only with this knowledge, that I was able to force my feet to move. To carry me back towards Deucalion. And out towards the Outlands. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>>“You know the reasons why,” I told him sadly. Because no matter which way he spun it, having the Gatekeeper going into the Outlands was not an option. The fact that he already had done so was concerning enough. There was no telling who was out there. And with the realm in the state it was, I shuddered to think of what it might look like if the job fell into the wrong hands. Milo rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to think of every reason he could to rebel against the statement. But not even he could deny that the risk wasn’t worth it in the end. “I don’t have to like it,” he told me. “You don’t. But you have to respect it.” There was a small snap between us. The slight sound of something popping. The fire in his eyes ignited as he stepped forward. Behind him, Malcolm gave me a small nod, but stepped away to give us privacy <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> "I'll go wait with Deucalion. Give you two a minute." Before leaving though, he came up to Milo, staring at him for a long moment. The two of them didn't touch. I wasn't sure if they wanted to. Malcolm only gave him a soft smile and said nothing more before walking away.<</if>> “$name?” Milo swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “I left you once. I won’t make that mistake again. I was an idiot. I was scared. And I should have trusted you more.” I tipped my head to the side. “Then trust me to do this,” I whispered. His jaw tightened. “Okay, I recant the big romantic statement I was trying to make because I’m still going to come out there in two days whether I trust you or not.” Stepping forward, I got as close as I could without touching. “I’ll come home,” I told him. “And we’ll talk some more.” It wasn’t satisfactory. Not for either of us. But it was a start. I turned from him before I could change my mind. The Outlands were waiting. The life I had fought for, was waiting. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>>“Yesterday I couldn’t even get you to look at me,” I gently teased. “Now you don’t want me out of your sight?” “I’m a fickle man.” He was shifting foot to foot, nervous with the road ahead. Part of me wondered if he was simply going to follow us anyway. It seemed like something he would do. “You need to be a patient man,” I told him. There was a small snap between us. The slight sound of something popping. The fire in his eyes ignited as he stepped forward. Behind him, Malcolm gave me a small nod, but stepped away to give us privacy. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> "I'll go wait with Deucalion. Give you two a minute." Before leaving though, he came up to Milo, staring at him for a long moment. The two of them didn't touch. I wasn't sure if they wanted to. Malcolm only gave him a soft smile and said nothing more before walking away.<</if>> “$name?” Milo swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “I left you once. I won’t make that mistake again. I was an idiot. I was scared. And I should have trusted you more.” I tipped my head to the side. “Then trust me to do this,” I whispered. His jaw tightened. “Okay, I recant the big romantic statement I was trying to make because I’m still going to come out there in two days whether I trust you or not.” Stepping forward, I got as close as I could without touching. “I’ll come home,” I told him. “And we’ll talk some more.” It wasn’t satisfactory. Not for either of us. But it was a start. I turned from him before I could change my mind. The Outlands were waiting. The life I had fought for, was waiting. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>>“You can be here when I get home,” I told him. There was a flicker of disbelief in his eyes. Despite our conversation the night before, he still believed that I didn’t want him. He was here as a tool in my arsenal against the end, and nothing more. “You mean it?” he whispered. “Do you want me to mean it?” I knew that he wanted me. I could feel it as a bone weary ache coming off of him. But I needed to hear it. To know without a shadow of a doubt. “I want you,” he rasped. “In any way you will allow.” I wanted to reach for him. Hold him. Be held by him. But instead, I could only offer him a longing look instead.. “Then I’ll come home,” I whispered. “I promise.” There was a small snap between us. The slight sound of something popping. The fire in his eyes ignited as he stepped forward. Behind him, Malcolm gave me a small nod, but stepped away to give us privacy. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> "I'll go wait with Deucalion. Give you two a minute." Before leaving though, he came up to Milo, staring at him for a long moment. The two of them didn't touch. I wasn't sure if they wanted to. Malcolm only gave him a soft smile and said nothing more before walking away.<</if>> “$name?” Milo swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “I left you once. I won’t make that mistake again. I was an idiot. I was scared. And I should have trusted you more.” I tipped my head to the side. “Then trust me to do this,” I whispered. His jaw tightened. “Okay, I recant the big romantic statement I was trying to make because I’m still going to come out there in two days whether I trust you or not.” Stepping forward, I got as close as I could without touching. “I’ll come home,” I told him. “And we’ll talk some more.” It wasn’t satisfactory. Not for either of us. But it was a start. I turned from him before I could change my mind. The Outlands were waiting. The life I had fought for, was waiting. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>>“You can be here for me when I get home,” I told him. “You and Malcolm.” His face screwed up at that. Milo didn’t even try to hide how much he hated what was tacked on to that sentence. Malcolm stepped forward though, placing a hand on Milo’s shoulder. “We will be here when you get back, Lamplight. I don’t care what time it is when you get home, you come home to us, alright?” I swallowed, feeling my heart flutter. “I will.” Milo looked between us, slightly confused at whatever was passing between our gazes. I wanted to reach out and touch both of them. Reassure them that I would be home. It helped stoke the flames, giving me a reason to go out there. I wanted my body back more than anything at the moment. Milo just sighed and I couldn’t help but notice how he hadn’t shaken off Malcolm’s hand yet. His eyes were only for me. “If you aren’t back in two days I’m coming to get you,” he stated. “I have a copy of that page. I’m not going to leave you out there.” “I know, Milo.” “No, $name?” he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “I left you once. I won’t make that mistake again. I was an idiot. I was scared. And I should have trusted you more.” I tipped my head to the side. “Then trust me to do this,” I whispered. His jaw tightened. “Okay, I recant the big romantic statement I was trying to make because I’m still going to come out there in two days whether I trust you or not.” Malcolm was laughing behind him. “Smooth,” he muttered. Stepping forward, I got as close as I could without touching. “I’ll come home,” I told him. “And we’ll talk some more.” It wasn’t satisfactory. Not for either of us. But it was a start. Looking over Milo’s shoulder, I stared at Malcolm. “Keep an eye on him?” Malcolm’s lips twitched into that half smile that I wanted to keep for my own. “Will do, Lamplight. Will do.” I turned from them before I could change my mind. The Outlands were waiting. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>> I turned to Belladonna, Milo and Malcolm. “Well,” Bella started. “I need to get back to the cathedral. There was a literal bloodbath happening when I left and I do need to attend to it.” She stepped up to me, sighing a little as her eyes took me in. “Come back to us,” she whispered. “Do not lose yourself in the dark please.” “I won’t.” She disappeared in a flutter of wings, one of which brushed against my shoulder. I felt something shiver through me. A blessing and a curse all at once. Despite her not being with me, I had a feeling her eyes would still be upon me. I turned towards the two men in front of me then, my lips twitching in amusement at the sight they made. Milo had his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot in impatience, while Malcolm stood by his side, arms crossed in front of himself. “I don’t like this,” Milo stated. “Really, Button? I don’t think you’ve made that clear enough,” Malcolm drawled. Milo shot him a look. “Sarcasm noted, jackass.” Stepping forward, I shook my head. “I’ll be in and out,” I told Milo. “Belladonna’s right. This is our only lead.” He waved me off. “Yeah. Yeah. I get it, okay? You need to be corporeal. The lights need to come back on. But I don’t like it. And I will petulantly state that until I am blue in the face.” It was Malcolm who stepped forward, his hand lacing within Milo’s own. “We know,” he sighed. “But there is a lot to do. We have to spread ourselves a little thin. And I want eyes on Hazel." Hazel. I imagined her standing at the gates with me as I prepared to leave. She would hate this. Nervously her hands would be twisting within her skirt. Then she would pass me a packed parcel with baked goods and little notes of encouragement inside. “Hey,” Milo said, breaking the spell. "She's going to be okay. That's the only family I got left. Neither Malcolm or I are going to let her bitch mother keep her from us. From you. We'll get her back safe and sound." “I should be the one doing that,” I told them. “No,” Malcolm said firmly. “Every problem we face is not solely on your shoulders, Lamplight. It is on all of ours.” “Mal’s right. You're the one who needs to do this light show thing, then the least we can do is prepare to make Lucinda have a really shitty day.” I laughed a little at that. Because the very idea did bring a spark of joy in my otherwise desolate mood. “Okay,” I agreed. “I can get behind that.” <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Stepping forward, Malcolm took my hand, giving it a squeeze. Milo remained respectfully back. “See you soon?” “Don’t say that shit, Mal,” Milo demanded. “It’ll jinx us.” He tugged on Malcolm’s arm, giving me a raised look. I zipped my lips, refusing to say it. But I committed them to memory in case the damage was already done. Then, I turned to head back to Deucalion. And out towards the Outlands. <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">>Stepping forward, Malcolm took my hand, giving it a squeeze. Milo remained respectfully back. “See you soon?” “Don’t say that shit, Mal,” Milo demanded. “It’ll jinx us.” He tugged on Malcolm’s arm, giving me a raised look. I zipped my lips, refusing to say it. But I committed them to memory in case the damage was already done. Then, I turned to head back to Deucalion. And out towards the Outlands. <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> Stepping forward, Malcolm took my hand, giving it a squeeze. Milo remained respectfully back. “You ready?" No. I didn't know if I'd ever be. But I was still going to go. "We'll be back before you know it," he told me. “Don’t say that shit, Mal,” Milo demanded. “It’ll jinx you." He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets and I could tell it was taking everything in him to just not follow. I had to smile at him, and hope that he stayed here. But ultimately, it was out of my hands. With Malcolm at my side, I turned back towards Deucalion, wondering what the next day would bring. All I knew was the Outlands were waiting while the world was gasping for breath behind me.<</if>> <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>> I turned to Belladonna. A stand in for the one I wanted to see me off. The man that I hoped would only get better as the world righted itself again. “I’ll watch out for him,” she said. “I’m not sure if there is anything I can do but the madness will not be flooding into our streets. Not like he has allowed it.” Blood had been spilled. The naivety that I would have to assume to believe that it had not been done before was at a level that not even I could convince myself of. Gabriel had done wrong. There would be harsh consequences for it. But as of right now, I just needed him to get better. “Do you see a return from this?” I asked, my voice raspy. “For him?” There was a tightness around Belladonna’s lips. A gathering of words were wrapping around her tongue and yet she did not say what she thought. That alone was enough to cause me fear. “I believe that we will try our best to pull him from his depths,” she said pragmatically. “I believe that he cares for you enough to actually listen.” “But?” She didn’t blink as she stared at me. And that in itself was answer enough. “Come home soon, $name. I will be awaiting your return.” She dissipated into a flutter of shadow and wings, the wind brushing against my cheeks as she went off into the night. My heart ached with the knowledge of the fallen angel, tucked away in his bed. I wanted nothing more than to be by his side. But as long as the world was dark, my place would never be next to him. Not while the madness still reigned and the realm continued to suffer. It was only with this knowledge, that I was able to force my feet to move. To carry me back towards Deucalion. And out towards the Outlands. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands]]<</if>><<if $miloro == "true" or $hazelro == "true">> The gathering spot for this particular rendezvous was at the gates leading out towards the Outlands. Deucalion stood by the front locks, tapping his cane along the heavy iron prison that it imposed upon the market proper. While Milo I was sure was watching somewhere from the shadows, Malcolm and I walked side by side to greet the man. Our guide into the light. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true" or $gabrielro == "true" or $gbpoly == "true">> I was near the front gate where I was supposed to meet Deucalion when a wall opened to reveal Malcolm standing there. He held a note from Belladonna in his hand and wore an expression of confusion that rivaled anything I had yet to feel. When he spotted me, he gingerly stepped through the hole in the wall, looking over his shoulder as it closed behind him. “Did you do that?” he asked, gesturing to the brick, seamlessly back in place. “I wasn’t even aware you were on the other side.” I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost certain it had opened up just outside his home. Given when Bella had sent the note, the man barely had time to put on his shoes. Malcolm held it up to me, the paper a barrier between us. “So, I am going to the Outlands, I hear.” “She threatened you, didn’t she.” He chuckled a little, shoving the note in his pocket before falling in step beside me. “Belladonna could hardly do anything to upset me, Lamplight. She’ll try but her attempts are often more amusingly irritating than anything else.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “The answer is yes, by the way. Of course I am going with you. There shouldn’t be any doubt about that.” “Are you sure? I know things with Hazel are escalating.” “And as of right now, there is nothing I can do about that. I’d rather put my mind to good use. I’m assuming that Belladonna found something?” I explained to him everything that Belladonna had told me, giving him all the details as we approached the outer walls of the market proper. “And that,” I said as I ended what I knew. “Is a man named Deucalion. Apparently he will be escorting us to wherever this city is.” At the sound of his name, the man took his hat off and gave a flourished bow. “Mr. Deucalion Gray,” he said. “At your literal service.” The wink he gave both Malcolm and I was over exaggerated and just shy of comical. “You must be Malcolm. Night here sings your praise.” “Night?” I asked. Deucalion shrugged. “We need to refer to you as something. And I am just rubbish with names.” <</if>> A pack was handed to Malcolm as my own was secured better onto my back. “Now,” Deucalion said. “Shall we be going?” I glanced at Malcolm with the slightest bit of trepidation. Again, everything was spiraling so quickly. A rush of urgency was wrapping around us like an anchor and my gut was screaming for us to just stop. “Lamplight?” Malcolm asked. I looked up towards the swaying empty lights above and somewhere in the distance, I heard a cry for help. Yet another one unfurling in a sea of lost souls. “Yeah,” I answered, “let’s go.” “Splendid!” Deucalion clapped his hand before turning on his heel and piercing the iron lock upon the gate with the tip of his cane. To my surprise, the lock clicked open, falling to the ground in a shiver of coiled rope as the gates themselves swung open with an obnoxious creak. “Come along,” Deucalion called, stepping forward. “Follow me,” he sang. “And you’ll see…” His voice trailed off as he stepped through. Standing side by side, Malcolm and I stared at each other for a long moment. Our packs were heavy on our back and the world was stretching before us like a proverbial red carpet. “After you,” I told Malcolm. Malcolm held out his arm, helping me loop my own within his. “Together,” he said. And together, we stepped over the edge. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Malcolm">> Two large metal gates were all that separated the market proper from the Outlands. They were sandwiched between the walls that kept the beasts at bay and the only ‘sanctioned’ way in and out of the market. At least according to the Velvet Guard. It was here that Deucalion was to wait for me and where I now walked, taking even breaths as I considered how quickly the day had already progressed despite having only risen a few hours ago. I was near the front gate when I heard a familiar sound. The //thump thump thump// of heavy footfalls were an odd comfort within the market. They had echoed through the streets long before I understood who they belonged to and managed to provide some sense of normalcy to the chaos spreading through the realm. This time, however, the sound was accompanied by a murmur of voices, one of which was getting higher as time went on. “Fuck you and fuck whatever orders you think you may have. You’re not fucking going out there alone.” Only Turner could express himself in such a way and as I listened to the expletives rolling through the market, I paused, waiting for both Herald and Turner to catch up. They rounded the corner, Herald's big coffin backpack strapped to him. He was dressed all in black as per usual, with heavy boots on his feet that raised him in height by at least another inch. Next to him, Turner was stomping haughty, a small satchel bouncing at his hips. “I think it best if you stay here, Turner,” Herald was saying. I doubted it was the first time he had said it. “I think it’s best if Malady shoves it where the sun don’t shine, Herald.” They both spotted me at once and while Herald looked sheepish at what I had just heard, Turner was staring at me with a challenge. <<if $belladonnaro == "true" or $gbpoly == "true">> It apparently didn’t matter that I had romantic inclinations towards the woman. In fact, I thought maybe he had toned himself down because of them.<</if>> “I said it,” he snapped. “What do you want to do about it?” “Easy, Turner,” Herald murmured. I raised my brow towards both of them. “I take it you already got Belladonna’s message?” Herald nodded. “Was out doing a body collection and was nearby. We heading out now? She made it sounds like it was urgent” “Message,” Turner muttered. “Fucking ambush is more like it.” Turner’s disdain for the days turn of events wasn’t exactly uncalled for but I did wonder how long he was going to keep it up. Especially given that Herald looked as if he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. “I think so,” I answered. “Deucalion has a pack for you.” Herald patted his coffin. “Got all I need right here.” “I’ll be taking the pack,” Turner said. Herald looked exasperated but didn’t say anything more. “You coming with us, Turner?” He lifted his chin upwards. “Where Herald goes, I go.” [[You don’t strike me as an adventure guy]] [[Doesn’t sound like Herald wants you to come]] [[What about your clock shop?]] “You don’t strike me as an adventure kind of guy,” I said. Every encounter with Turner I had consisted of the man either huddled over his clocks or trying to get to a place where he could huddle over his clocks. Most mornings, I looked through the shop window to see him bent over his work table, muttering to himself in the glow of a small lamp. I knew he hardly slept and that he could get lost in the cogs and gears. It didn’t lead me to believe he did much in the way of exploring. But when I said as such, he bristled, looking away. “Not for a long fucking time,” he muttered. “But anything for Herald. Even if he’s been a dumb fuck and doing something he shouldn’t be.” I suddenly wondered about Turner’s past. How he had come here. What life had been like before the Night Market. It struck me that I didn’t know how he and Herald met. If they had known each other before coming here. The man before me had always been an enigma but now I was curious if that was done on purpose. “Just walk to the fuckin’ gates,” Turner muttered. There was very little force behind it, however, as he took Herald’s hand in his. <<if $chaptsixbella == "true">>A set of iron gates loomed before us where a man was leaning. He wore a black boned corset beneath a long leather duster, and a high slitted skirt that showed off ample dark skin. The fedora he wore was tipped down low over his brow, silver chains wrapped around the brim and mimicked around his neck. He bowed to us with a flourish, tipping his cane forward. He paused, however, when his eyes landed on Herald. “Harry? What are you doing here, old chap? I didn’t think you’d be attending.” Herald just gave the man a nod. “Hi there, Deucalion. Just along for the ride. Accompanying $name.” The man, Deucalion, turned to me with a sharp smile. “Well hello there, Night. May I just say it is a complete honor to meet you.” “Night?” “Must call you something. And names are just so tawdry.” He then turned to Turner, taking an appreciative look over the man. “And who is this fine young man?” <<elseif $chapsixbella == "false">>The iron gates loomed before us as we came to the meeting location. Deucalion stood just to the right with his cane in hand, tapping at the heavy iron lock that kept us from outside. When he spotted us, his grin grew broad. “Herald!” he cried out. “Are you coming with us, my friend?” Herald just nodded slowly in that way that he always did. Every move he made was a languid sort of drawl. “I am.” “Splendid! I’m sure Night here will appreciate a friendly face.” I tipped my head to the side, only just realizing that I was the ‘Night’ he was referring to. “And who is this fine young man?” <</if>> “Fuck you.” Deucalion’s eyes lit up in delight. “Aw. I see this is your Turner then. Charming fellow, he is. Will he be joining us?” The sigh that escaped Heralds lips was answer enough for Deucalion. Meanwhile, I was almost certain Turner was about to enter another round of expletives. “We should probably get going,” I said. “Is this going to be a long trip?” I tightened my pack on me while Turner grabbed at his and hoisted it up on his back. “It’s going to be an adventure,” Deucalion crooned. “One full of wonder and mystery. A little bit of sexy danger.” When Deucalion waggled his brows at Turner, the other man flipped him off. “Shall we?” Deucalion laughed loudly as he took his cane, tapping it upon the lock three times. It broke apart in snake-like shadows, falling to the ground and slithering away. The gates opened with an obnoxious creak and Deucalion merely stepped through, a skip in his step. “I really don’t know if you should be doin’ this, Turner,” I heard Herald saying softly. “Your heart–” “Is just fine. Now lets fucking go. $name doesn’t have all fuckin’ day.” Turner stormed through the gates after Deucalion, leaving both Herald and I side by side. I took a steady look at him, willing him to back out if this was too much to ask. But, Herald did what he always did. Looked steadily at the situation ahead and greeted it like an old friend. “Better get goin’,” he murmured. “Deucalion moves fast.” When he stepped forward I rushed to keep up with him. And just like that, we were in the Outlands. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Herald">>“It doesn’t sound like Herald wants you to come,” I tried to reason. A lovers quarrel was not something I normally would enter into but I felt the need to say something. Especially given that the only reason Herald was leaving on this journey was because of me. “Well Herald,” Turner hissed. “Is just going to have to fuckin’ deal. And maybe, //Herald// is going to need to accept that when you are in a relationship, and someone //loves// you, that they might not be too happy about said love one fucking going out to an area where monsters are known to fucking eat people!” Herald sighed. “I go out there all the time, Turner.” “And I fucking hate it! Let the bodies bloat and rot out there. Not your fault they died. Stop risking your fucking life!” Herald raised one brow, stopping and looking at his boyfriend. “You really feel that way?” It was then that I saw something interesting happen. Herald, who was normally soft spoken, had a hard edge to his voice, and Turner, who normally was full of hot air, deflated. “Of course it’s fucking not,” he said, dropping his voice to something more manageable. When he looked at Turner, it was with naked concern. “I just don’t want to lose you.” One of Herald's big hands came out, cupping Turner’s cheek. “You will never lose me,” he vowed to the shorter man solemnly. “Ever.” I dipped my gaze away, giving the two of them a moment. But not before I watched as Turner leaned in, resting against Herald with a small sigh. When we began walking again, Turner was suddenly quiet. But he would not let go of Herald’s hand. <<if $chaptsixbella == "true">>A set of iron gates loomed before us where a man was leaning. He wore a black boned corset beneath a long leather duster, and a high slitted skirt that showed off ample dark skin. The fedora he wore was tipped down low over his brow, silver chains wrapped around the brim and mimicked around his neck. He bowed to us with a flourish, tipping his cane forward. He paused, however, when his eyes landed on Herald. “Harry? What are you doing here, old chap? I didn’t think you’d be attending.” Herald just gave the man a nod. “Hi there, Deucalion. Just along for the ride. Accompanying $name.” The man, Deucalion, turned to me with a sharp smile. “Well hello there, Night. May I just say it is a complete honor to meet you.” “Night?” “Must call you something. And names are just so tawdry.” He then turned to Turner, taking an appreciative look over the man. “And who is this fine young man?” <<elseif $chapsixbella == "false">>The iron gates loomed before us as we came to the meeting location. Deucalion stood just to the right with his cane in hand, tapping at the heavy iron lock that kept us from outside. When he spotted us, his grin grew broad. “Herald!” he cried out. “Are you coming with us, my friend?” Herald just nodded slowly in that way that he always did. Every move he made was a languid sort of drawl. “I am.” “Splendid! I’m sure Night here will appreciate a friendly face.” I tipped my head to the side, only just realizing that I was the ‘Night’ he was referring to. “And who is this fine young man?” <</if>> “Fuck you.” Deucalion’s eyes lit up in delight. “Aw. I see this is your Turner then. Charming fellow, he is. Will he be joining us?” The sigh that escaped Heralds lips was answer enough for Deucalion. Meanwhile, I was almost certain Turner was about to enter another round of expletives. “We should probably get going,” I said. “Is this going to be a long trip?” I tightened my pack on me while Turner grabbed at his and hoisted it up on his back. “It’s going to be an adventure,” Deucalion crooned. “One full of wonder and mystery. A little bit of sexy danger.” When Deucalion waggled his brows at Turner, the other man flipped him off. “Shall we?” Deucalion laughed loudly as he took his cane, tapping it upon the lock three times. It broke apart in snake-like shadows, falling to the ground and slithering away. The gates opened with an obnoxious creak and Deucalion merely stepped through, a skip in his step. “I really don’t know if you should be doin’ this, Turner,” I heard Herald saying softly. “Your heart–” “Is just fine. Now lets fucking go. $name doesn’t have all fuckin’ day.” Turner stormed through the gates after Deucalion, leaving both Herald and I side by side. I took a steady look at him, willing him to back out if this was too much to ask. But, Herald did what he always did. Looked steadily at the situation ahead and greeted it like an old friend. “Better get goin’,” he murmured. “Deucalion moves fast.” When he stepped forward I rushed to keep up with him. And just like that, we were in the Outlands. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Herald">>“What about your clock shop?” I asked him. “Can you just not open for a while? I don’t know when I’m going to be back.” Turner looked at me like I was the dumbest individual he’d ever met. “Oh no,” he deadpanned. “Individuals wont be able to come in an defile my clocks with their fucking dirty hands and inability to appreciate anything of value.” “Alright, Turner,” Herald sighed. “You don’t need to be like that.” “Fuck anyone who wants to buy a clock,” he spat. “I hope their day is fuckin’ ruined by me being closed.” He stormed ahead of us only to skid to a stop due to not knowing where we were going. Then, with gathering anger, he stormed back to our side, his lips pressed tightly together. <<if $chaptsixbella == "true">>A set of iron gates loomed before us where a man was leaning. He wore a black boned corset beneath a long leather duster, and a high slitted skirt that showed off ample dark skin. The fedora he wore was tipped down low over his brow, silver chains wrapped around the brim and mimicked around his neck. He bowed to us with a flourish, tipping his cane forward. He paused, however, when his eyes landed on Herald. “Harry? What are you doing here, old chap? I didn’t think you’d be attending.” Herald just gave the man a nod. “Hi there, Deucalion. Just along for the ride. Accompanying $name.” The man, Deucalion, turned to me with a sharp smile. “Well hello there, Night. May I just say it is a complete honor to meet you.” “Night?” “Must call you something. And names are just so tawdry.” He then turned to Turner, taking an appreciative look over the man. “And who is this fine young man?” <<elseif $chapsixbella == "false">>The iron gates loomed before us as we came to the meeting location. Deucalion stood just to the right with his cane in hand, tapping at the heavy iron lock that kept us from outside. When he spotted us, his grin grew broad. “Herald!” he cried out. “Are you coming with us, my friend?” Herald just nodded slowly in that way that he always did. Every move he made was a languid sort of drawl. “I am.” “Splendid! I’m sure Night here will appreciate a friendly face.” I tipped my head to the side, only just realizing that I was the ‘Night’ he was referring to. “And who is this fine young man?” <</if>> “Fuck you.” Deucalion’s eyes lit up in delight. “Aw. I see this is your Turner then. Charming fellow, he is. Will he be joining us?” The sigh that escaped Heralds lips was answer enough for Deucalion. Meanwhile, I was almost certain Turner was about to enter another round of expletives. “We should probably get going,” I said. “Is this going to be a long trip?” I tightened my pack on me while Turner grabbed at his and hoisted it up on his back. “It’s going to be an adventure,” Deucalion crooned. “One full of wonder and mystery. A little bit of sexy danger.” When Deucalion waggled his brows at Turner, the other man flipped him off. “Shall we?” Deucalion laughed loudly as he took his cane, tapping it upon the lock three times. It broke apart in snake-like shadows, falling to the ground and slithering away. The gates opened with an obnoxious creak and Deucalion merely stepped through, a skip in his step. “I really don’t know if you should be doin’ this, Turner,” I heard Herald saying softly. “Your heart–” “Is just fine. Now lets fucking go. $name doesn’t have all fuckin’ day.” Turner stormed through the gates after Deucalion, leaving both Herald and I side by side. I took a steady look at him, willing him to back out if this was too much to ask. But, Herald did what he always did. Looked steadily at the situation ahead and greeted it like an old friend. “Better get goin’,” he murmured. “Deucalion moves fast.” When he stepped forward I rushed to keep up with him. And just like that, we were in the Outlands. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Herald">> Two large metal gates were all that separated the market proper from the Outlands. They were sandwiched between the walls that kept the beasts at bay and the only ‘sanctioned’ way in and out of the market. At least according to the Velvet Guard. It was here that Deucalion was to wait for me and where I now walked, taking even breaths as I considered how quickly the day had already progressed despite having only risen a few hours ago. The iron gates loomed before me, rising out of the darkness like some sort of beacon. They of course were lit by the very magic that the Velvet Guard abhorred. Magic of course, they were perfectly accepting of when it benefited them. Deucalion stood to the right of the gates with his cane in hand, tapping at the heavy iron lock that kept us from outside. When he spotted me, his grin grew broad and he bowed. “I thought you may run,” he told me. “I am pleased to see that you are here, mon cher.” I stopped in front of him, my eyes tracing the gates themselves. They loomed far higher than I think any creature in the Night Market could reach, disappearing into the night sky. “How long is this journey?” I asked. With the tip of his cane, he drew a few sigils into the sand. “That depends on the city itself. Sometimes it's far. Sometimes it's just over the horizon. But, Belladonna is correct in her assertion that it moves and the only safe and clear paths are on nights like tonight.” I looked at the shut gates as if it were some looming omen. “Better get going then.” “That’s the ticket!” With a flap of his coattails, Deucalion squared off against the gate, tapping the heavy iron lock three times. It dissolves into a series of shadowy snakes before slithering off into the dark. The gates themselves opened with an ominous sound. With a flourish, he looked at me. “Shall we, Night?” “Am I Night?” “You are beautiful. Handsome? Aw. No matter.” Straightening, he twirled his cane in his hand and sauntered on through the gates. “Adventure awaits.” There was a part of me that questioned myself. Going out into the Outlands like this. Armed with nothing but a stranger and his dulcet tones. Maybe I should have turned back. Maybe I should have gathered my own group to journey into the beyond. But my feet were carrying me forward and I was pushing worry away. I knew that the form I chose to come to the Night Market with had heart. That I had separated out the part of myself that had empathy and compassion. But I was seriously starting to question if I had neglected to give myself any common sense while I was at it. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Deucalion">> The gates clanged behind us. The discordant sound of the heavy iron bars closed with a creak as the hinges protested. Their use was saved for only a few times a year seeing as the Velvet Guard had their own tunnels to drag criminals through. I felt a distinct change in the air as we left the Market proper. There was a saltiness out here. The sand and packed dirt that I could see beneath my shoes was crystalized with the sea air despite not even the distant sound of the ocean around. The earth was cracked and any signs of vegetation were long left to shrivel in the dark corners. From what I could see stretched before me, the Outlands looked like a dead zone. To think that there were people living out here gave me a newfound respect for them and their ability to survive. “Stay in the light,” Deucalion said unceremoniously. “The beasties that roam here don’t like it much.” I saw the way the purple light flooded from the gem atop his cane. The circle it cast was not wide but it was enough to make me feel as if we weren’t totally wandering in the void. With each step, our footprints were absorbed into the sand, smoothing out into a flat expanse of dirt once more. It left an uneasiness swimming about me. Because if our footsteps were gone in a blink, so were the dangers that inevitably would stalk us if they caught sight of our form. I couldn’t help but shake the idea that they were lurking, just outside our peripheral, blending in the dark. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> When I turned to Malcolm, curious as to what his thoughts were on the apparent dangers the land presented to us, I saw nothing. Through the dim light, I could barely make out his eyes, let alone what he was thinking.<</if>> “The journey should be no more than six hours if we are lucky,” Deucalion was saying. “I’ve studied the map and while everything does seem far in the distance, this world is really not that big. That, and I’ve crossed this city a few times during my travels. It rarely is far from the center of the market.” “But it does change locations?” I asked. “Each new moon?” “Supposedly. Though, I do wonder if it is our minds that give it the new location and not the proximity itself. It is just the age-old question of who revolves around who.” When Deucalion looked over his shoulder at me, it was with an appraising eye. I couldn’t tell if the man was about to hit on me, or found me fascinating. “You’re kind of a baby in the cosmic being situation, I suppose. One of the newer generations of gods.” I stumbled. When I stepped out of the light, panic crossed both his face and mine. “Gods?” <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Next to me, Herald tugged Turner a little closer. I didn’t see the other man protest.<</if>> “Isn’t that what you are?” Deucalion asked. “Forgive me if I am misspoken. A world, however, made incarnate, sent to traverse the vast realm they created? It sounds top tiered godlike to me. Yet you don’t have the disillusion behind your eyes yet. I don’t see you looking as if you are contemplating the complete destruction of the feeble world around you.” [[Not in this incarnation, no]] [[I am not a god]] [[So you’re saying that I’m still a child?]] “Not in this incarnation, no. I doubt that I can be considered anything other than an individual with a modicum of power. Most of the individuals I know can do far more than me.” Deucalion chuckled a little, though I wasn't sure what he found funny. “I would not sell yourself short. I believe you have not woken yet. Or, shall I say, it is my experience that ones like you, the ones who feel they have no control, simply have not come into their full power at the time of speaking.” “And when will I?” I asked. “Come into this full power. Because I must say, it would be very useful right about now.” “Perhaps getting the lights back on will shed some clarity,” he suggested. “Or, perhaps you just need to believe it is your right to do and conduct yourself as you see fit.” <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> “Fuck the naysayers,” Turner muttered. “And fuck the people in power that push you down.” “Technically, wouldn’t I be one of those people?” I asked him. Turner shrugged. “You don’t act like it. But the second you do I’ll be sure to tell you.” I didn’t know why but that for some reason made me feel far more comfortable. Because whatever words were uttered from Turner, I knew I would believe. “Thanks, Turner.” <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> “I agree with Deucalion,” Malcolm said. “I think you have more potential than you give yourself credit for, Lamplight. And I think we are beginning to unlock it.” I wish I had the blind faith that Malcolm did. Or at the very least, that I could borrow some from him.<</if>> I could see very little in the dark as we continued to walk. My realm of visibility stretched out to double the length of my hand. Though, Deucalion was sure footed. Hopping over large stones and sidestepping wide ditches. “How often do you come out here?” “Frequently. I’m a guide for the ones trying to connect with their family. Sometimes for the ones trying to find their family. But more often than not I’m bringing supplies to the civilizations that have been constructed out here.” <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Deucalion nodded towards Herald, his eyes lingering along the man's broad shoulders. Turner immediately bristled. “It’s how I met our dear Herald, in fact. I was bringing someone out to find her father. Herald had her father in a box. How did that all end up, by the way? I don’t think I ever asked.” Herald hefted the coffin up further on his back. “Was able to get her dad to rise about a month later. Was a beautiful reunion.” “Oh, lovely,” Deucalion crooned. <</if>> There was a living to be had out here. Nebula had been the moment my eyes had opened. But in talking with Deucalion, it was becoming more and more clear that the people who lived in the Outlands were not exiled in the way the Guard hoped for them to be. They were building what looked like a better life. “How many people in the market know about the settlements out here?” “I’m unaware,” he told me. “We don’t keep company. And by a rule, when passing each other in the dark, we tend to keep our eyes to ourselves. Something about the idea that if we get arrested by the Velvet Guard, we can’t give the other factions up. It’s all very guerilla warfare of us, I’m afraid. A bit macabre but it has worked thus far.” <<if $outlandsmal == "true">>Malcolm looked solemnly at my side as he listened to Deucalion's words. “Sometimes, that’s the best you can do.”<</if>> There was a howl off in the distance. One that choruses loudly like a wolf before settling into the odd growl of something more. The ground beneath our feet rumbled with the vibrations. “Stick close,” Deucalion said, waving his light around a bit. “They are out in droves tonight.” [[Next|Outlands 2]] “I am not a god,” I told him firmly. Deucalion tipped his head to the side at that. “Aren’t you? You are the world in which we walk. Or some form of yourself is. You can control different aspects of the market. You are the air that we breathe. Everyone's life here depends on your existence.” But I didn’t want it to. Only narcissists wanted that form of power. The weight of it was too much for most. “I don’t have as much control over this world as you may think,” I tried to reason. “This form, perhaps. But your other one I dare say has quite a bit of control.” With his free hand, he raised it in some form of surrender. “Though, I must admit, it is refreshing that you are not out here demanding everyone worship you. You have a heart, Night. I like that. I am sure there are many people who would agree.” <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> I couldn’t help but notice the way that he looked at Malcolm. The man who had quite literally watched over me all these years. The one who nurtured the lights, spoke to them softly, encouraged them when he saw doubt. <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> “You talk too fucking much,” Turner said. He had taken an immediate dislike to Deucalion and I couldn’t figure out why. Deucalion took it all in stride, however. “Herald, would you and your partner wish to go to dinner when we get back? I do miss our conversations.” “Stay the fuck away from him,” Turner snarled. “I’ll take your cane and shove it up your–” A heavy hand landed on Turner’s shoulder and Herald squeezed tight. “That would be right fine, Deucalion,” Herald said. “$name here might like to come as well.” “Wonderful,” Deucalion said, genuinely pleased. “I think I will be in the town proper for a bit and it would do me good to catch up with some old friends and make some new ones.<</if>> I could see very little in the dark as we continued to walk. My realm of visibility stretched out to double the length of my hand. Though, Deucalion was sure footed. Hopping over large stones and sidestepping wide ditches. “How often do you come out here?” “Frequently. I’m a guide for the ones trying to connect with their family. Sometimes for the ones trying to find their family. But more often than not I’m bringing supplies to the civilizations that have been constructed out here.” <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Deucalion nodded towards Herald, his eyes lingering along the man's broad shoulders. Turner immediately bristled. “It’s how I met our dear Herald, in fact. I was bringing someone out to find her father. Herald had her father in a box. How did that all end up, by the way? I don’t think I ever asked.” Herald hefted the coffin up further on his back. “Was able to get her dad to rise about a month later. Was a beautiful reunion.” “Oh, lovely,” Deucalion crooned. <</if>> There was a living to be had out here. Nebula had been the moment my eyes had opened. But in talking with Deucalion, it was becoming more and more clear that the people who lived in the Outlands were not exiled in the way the Guard hoped for them to be. They were building what looked like a better life. “How many people in the market know about the settlements out here?” “I’m unaware,” he told me. “We don’t keep company. And by a rule, when passing each other in the dark, we tend to keep our eyes to ourselves. Something about the idea that if we get arrested by the Velvet Guard, we can’t give the other factions up. It’s all very guerilla warfare of us, I’m afraid. A bit macabre but it has worked thus far.” <<if $outlandsmal == "true">>Malcolm looked solemnly at my side as he listened to Deucalion's words. “Sometimes, that’s the best you can do.”<</if>> There was a howl off in the distance. One that choruses loudly like a wolf before settling into the odd growl of something more. The ground beneath our feet rumbled with the vibrations. “Stick close,” Deucalion said, waving his light around a bit. “They are out in droves tonight.” [[Next|Outlands 2]] “So are you saying that I’m still a child?” A child going through literal horrors and responsible for an entire world. It felt like a cruel fate somehow. “By the dickens, no,” Deucalion said. “No no no. An ancient being who rules all of us is far more like it. I’d say, you are content with what you have.” “I’m not actually sure I agree with you,” I told him. “I was tearing myself apart to try and fit more people here. To try and save them.” Wasn’t that what I had been told? I had too big of a heart. Lux always said that I would be taken advantage of. Walked all over. Deucalion pondered this for a moment. “Then it makes sense why you kept yourself small. The realm, that is. The more stretched out something is, the bigger the hole that is left when someone tears into it.” <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> “We always thought quite the opposite,” Malcolm said. “We assumed that everything was stretched too thin and that the market walls were not recovering from the gates being opened as they were.” Deucalion turned, walking backwards, his skirt twisting around his legs. “Perhaps. I really do not know. Something to ponder, maybe? I only speak of what I have been told by the Outlanders.” <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> “How about you keep walkin’ instead of telling $name what they may or may not fuckin’ be,” Turner snapped. I looked at him with some surprise. When I had gained such dedication from Turner? Deucalion looked at me from the corner of his eyes, slightly troubled. “I do apologize if I have offended you. I am unused to gods taking the form that they sometimes do. It is all a bit different for me. “Uncomfortable different?” “Quite the contrary,” he said. “Fascinating, really. Though, I do need to keep in mind that you are not one to be studied. No one is.”<</if>> I could see very little in the dark as we continued to walk. My realm of visibility stretched out to double the length of my hand. Though, Deucalion was sure footed. Hopping over large stones and sidestepping wide ditches. “How often do you come out here?” “Frequently. I’m a guide for the ones trying to connect with their family. Sometimes for the ones trying to find their family. But more often than not I’m bringing supplies to the civilizations that have been constructed out here.” <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Deucalion nodded towards Herald, his eyes lingering along the man's broad shoulders. Turner immediately bristled. “It’s how I met our dear Herald, in fact. I was bringing someone out to find her father. Herald had her father in a box. How did that all end up, by the way? I don’t think I ever asked.” Herald hefted the coffin up further on his back. “Was able to get her dad to rise about a month later. Was a beautiful reunion.” “Oh, lovely,” Deucalion crooned. <</if>> There was a living to be had out here. Nebula had been the moment my eyes had opened. But in talking with Deucalion, it was becoming more and more clear that the people who lived in the Outlands were not exiled in the way the Guard hoped for them to be. They were building what looked like a better life. “How many people in the market know about the settlements out here?” “I’m unaware,” he told me. “We don’t keep company. And by a rule, when passing each other in the dark, we tend to keep our eyes to ourselves. Something about the idea that if we get arrested by the Velvet Guard, we can’t give the other factions up. It’s all very guerilla warfare of us, I’m afraid. A bit macabre but it has worked thus far.” <<if $outlandsmal == "true">>Malcolm looked solemnly at my side as he listened to Deucalion's words. “Sometimes, that’s the best you can do.”<</if>> There was a howl off in the distance. One that choruses loudly like a wolf before settling into the odd growl of something more. The ground beneath our feet rumbled with the vibrations. “Stick close,” Deucalion said, waving his light around a bit. “They are out in droves tonight.” [[Next|Outlands 2]] Continuing to walk, I heard the sounds of the Outlands. They rang through the dark, becoming louder and louder with each passing step. It seemed like the darker it got, the closer these creatures ventured. Even the stars winked out above us and as I looked back towards where I imagined the lantern glow would have been, I could see the little silver dots stretching across the sky. I wondered why they did not reach towards the horizon. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Herald and Tuner occasionally murmured something to each other, their hands brushing as they walked. Now that the Night Market was far behind us, Herald seemed more at ease with Turner's presence. The option to turn back had been taken away and now they were treating it as if they were both merely out for a stroll. I even saw Turner smile a few times. It was a strange sight but each time he looked at Herald, there was a reverence there that he showed no one else. <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> Malcolm stuck close to my side but remained quieter than usual. Granted, the conversation I was offering him was non-existent as well. But that was what I had noticed about Malcolm. There was a comfortable silence about him. A way in which I felt as if I could exist next to this man with no expectations. There was something so appealing about that kind of connection and I yearned to keep a hold of it for as long as I was here.<</if>> I began to feel the ground slope downwards. A slight crunch came under my shoes. I could see from the way the light cast across the land and how the dirt and sand had crystalized in areas. All of it looked out of place. Like someone had dumped ground up gemstones and laid down a path that had been blown over by the wind. “If you look to your right,” Deucalion was saying. “That would be the city of Fault. Once a great, thriving metropolis with dens of depravity and lowly black market dealings. It was burned to the ground in the Velvet Purge and never quite recovered.” It looked like a child's sandcastle taken by the sea. Spires rose high up into the sky with carved out windows and yet entire sides of the buildings were taken out. I couldn’t remember the city. I couldn’t even remember this Velvet Purge that he was speaking of. I wondered if I was supposed to. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> “Fucking Den of Depravity. What? Market didn’t have enough of fucking that? Had to wander out into the middle of nowhere to get their fucking rocks off?” “It’s the mystery of it all,” Deucalion cooed. “The idea of doing something naughty.” Turner rolled his eyes. “People need to get a new fucking hobby.” <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> “I’m assuming the Velvet Purge was when the Velvet Guard decided magic shouldn’t exist. Except for them, of course.” Deucalion laughed loudly. I found that I quite liked his wild abandon. He seemed like a man that let most things roll off his back. “Isn’t it funny,” he said, “how society has a way of villainizing one thing just to justify it with their next breath? If we could all just admit that we are selfish creatures, I think the world might be better off.” “Or complete anarchy,” I said. He grinned, not disputing the idea.<</if>> We continued on through twists and turns, following the purple light that Deucalion provided us. I found myself slipping into some sort of rhythm. Letting the darkness pass me by. Knowing only the light and nothing more. So when I almost ran into Deucalion, I felt myself shudder. “Why are we stopping?” His hand was up and he was peering out into the dark, the whites of his eyes glowing. The silence was so thick that I could have sworn I heard my own heartbeat. I tried to say Deucalion’s name, draw his attention back to me, but something in me stopped. “We’re being hunted,” he said quietly. [[We need to hide then]] [[Can we expand the light?]] [[How far away are we from the city?]] “We need to hide,” I said quickly. Peering into the dark offered nothing. From what I could tell, we were surrounded by a flat expanse of deadened land. There was not even a dip in the ground that we could roll down for a hasty escape. “Just say close,” Deucalion was saying. “We should be fine if–” He didn’t get a chance to respond. Because whatever was hunting us, barrelled right into him. It happened fast enough that I couldn’t take a second breath. Deucalion had been standing next to me and suddenly he was on the ground, rolling away from me in a flurry of claws. The light from his staff bounced all around, cracking against a small rock a few yards away. The snarled growl of the creatures wrapped around me while it tore into Deucalion. I could smell the fetid marks of its breath rise like smoke in the night. Hear the hunger in the beasts snarl. But above it all, the pop of bone echoed through my mind with a resounding crack. Deucalion’s grunts of pain filled the night and I knew if I didn’t do anything, the man would be dead and I would be left out here with no chance of navigating back towards home. [[Pick up the staff]] [[Pick up a rock]] [[Shift the sands]] My gaze ticked towards the purple light. The only protection we had. “Can we expand the light?” “A bit. But if I do too much, I will run the risk of not having enough light left over to get to the city.” “Maybe we should risk it? We won’t make it to the city if we’re attacked.” He didn’t get a chance to respond. Because whatever was hunting us, barrelled right into him. It happened fast enough that I couldn’t take a second breath. Deucalion had been standing next to me and suddenly he was on the ground, rolling away from me in a flurry of claws. The light from his staff bounced all around, cracking against a small rock a few yards away. The snarled growl of the creatures wrapped around me while it tore into Deucalion. I could smell the fetid marks of its breath rise like smoke in the night. Hear the hunger in the beasts snarl. But above it all, the pop of bone echoed through my mind with a resounding crack. Deucalion’s grunts of pain filled the night and I knew if I didn’t do anything, the man would be dead and I would be left out here with no chance of navigating back towards home. [[Pick up the staff]] [[Pick up a rock]] [[Shift the sands]]“How far away are we from the city?” I whispered. “Too far to run it.” Deucalion’s eyes were scanning the dark. The sounds that had been following us through the course of the evening, had all but died. “I think there are two of them,” he whispered. “We should be safe if we stay in the light. In theory.” “In theory?” I asked. He didn’t get a chance to respond. Because whatever was hunting us, barrelled right into him. It happened fast enough that I couldn’t take a second breath. Deucalion had been standing next to me and suddenly he was on the ground, rolling away from me in a flurry of claws. The light from his staff bounced all around, cracking against a small rock a few yards away. The snarled growl of the creatures wrapped around me while it tore into Deucalion. I could smell the fetid marks of its breath rise like smoke in the night. Hear the hunger in the beasts snarl. But above it all, the pop of bone echoed through my mind with a resounding crack. Deucalion’s grunts of pain filled the night and I knew if I didn’t do anything, the man would be dead and I would be left out here with no chance of navigating back towards home. [[Pick up the staff]] [[Pick up a rock]] [[Shift the sands]] The luxury of thinking through a plan of action had never been an option for me. Whatever incarnation had come before me had come down to this world with a clear set of rules and an arsenal of knowledge. But I had not. I had been dropped into the Night Market with naive eyes and an open heart and had dumbly thought that there was no reason to protect myself. No reason to wrap myself in shields. To allow access to even a modicum of the power that I should have. Instead, I had walked through the world with the hope of gaining so much more than I ever had. And in return, I had ignored who I actually was. Not anymore. The voices of the dead had always lingered in my mind, driving me impossibly insane. They whispered to me at night and cried out when I couldn’t save them. In return, I had always cried with them. And now, the beasts were roaring in my ears like a river of blood and this man who had put his life on the line for no other reason than he was told to, was crying out in anguish. I could hear the tear of muscle and the pop of bone. The rip of skin. The way the stars wept behind their curtain above. The staff was still glowing by my foot, the lavender light pulsing like a lighthouse being buried beneath the sand. I rushed towards it, skidding on my knees as my hand wrapped around the cool metal of the staff. A jolt burst through me as the light grew brighter but instead of the puddle of light that it had produced before, it shot out like a mimicry of lightning. While the gem pulsed, shadowed tendrils rushed across the ground. As the beast came rushing towards me, I saw it in full clarity. It was three times my size with flaps of skin peeling from its face. Its webbed feet were slit with protruding, sticky claws. But it was the eyes that got to me the most. They were lifeless. White, swirling motes of dust that locked onto me as it sniffed the ground. When it charged towards me, however, I did not move. My body no longer felt like my own as I tipped my head to the side, looking towards every weak spot that it might show. A soft underbelly. A slit in the jugular. The light, or absence thereof, raced towards the beast, wrapping around its legs in barbed tendrils before solidifying. The creature roared in pain as blood spurted from each wound. It skidded to a stop, rearing back and batting at the climbing confines that were wrapping around its body. As my fingers curled tighter on the staff, I noticed the light burst once again, a distant pop of glass sounded as more and more shadows raced from the lavender glow around me, piling on top of the creature. It fell to the side, its head thrashing as it was covered in purple hued shadows, being flattened beneath the weight of the dark. Bone and muscle snapped as it was pushed downwards. Its skin tore as it was stretched and punctured. And when the creature took its last breath, the shadows shot down its throat, silencing its final scream. I stood there breathing heavily, staring at what was right in front of me. A mound was forming in the dead creature's place. The shadows that had reached from the staff crumbling into dirt and debris to create a false grave. I looked down at myself, my eyes wide and my heart hammering against the shell of my chest. And then I heard Deucalion groan once more. [[Next|Outlands 3]] <<set $power to "light">> The luxury of thinking through a plan of action had never been an option for me. Whatever incarnation had come before me had come down to this world with a clear set of rules and an arsenal of knowledge. But I had not. I had been dropped into the Night Market with naive eyes and an open heart and had dumbly thought that there was no reason to protect myself. No reason to wrap myself in shields. To allow access to even a modicum of the power that I should have. Instead, I had walked through the world with the hope of gaining so much more than I ever had. And in return, I had ignored who I actually was. Not anymore. The voices of the dead had always lingered in my mind, driving me impossibly insane. They whispered to me at night and cried out when I couldn’t save them. In return, I had always cried with them. And now, the beasts were roaring in my ears like a river of blood and this man who had put his life on the line for no other reason than he was told to, was crying out in anguish. I could hear the tear of muscle and the pop of bone. The rip of skin. The way the stars wept behind their curtain above. Looking around I spied a rock. It would do nothing towards the massive beast that was tearing through the dark. The only course of action I could think of was to distract it. Either that, or become incredibly lucky with a well timed throw. As the beast came rushing towards me, I saw it in full clarity. It was three times my size with flaps of skin peeling from its face. Its webbed feet were slit with protruding, sticky claws. But it was the eyes that got to me the most. They were lifeless. White, swirling motes of dust that locked onto me as it sniffed the ground. When it charged towards me, however, I did not move. My body no longer felt like my own as I tipped my head to the side, looking towards every weak spot that it might show. A soft underbelly. A slit in the jugular. Pulling my arm back, I aimed. The rock went sailing through the air and I felt some sort of strange disbelief as I tried to find any sort of reason for my actions. Compared to the size of the creature, this was not going to do anything. But as the chunk of discarded stone hit the ground, something strange happened. The familiar clicking of the walls that accompanied the alleys within the market proper began to sound. One by one, brick by brick, walls began to form. From all around us, pebbles and tiny bits of debris came together, building around the beast. Each time it reared its ugly head, breaking through, another wall quickly climbed in its place. It went on and on until the barrier was high enough, surrounding it enough, that it began to build a roof. I watched in rapt horror and fascination as the last stone cemented together, trapping the monster within. A few breathes later and its cries turned to desperation. A moment after that, and it was silent. I stood there breathing heavily, staring at what was right in front of me. A dune was forming in the dead creature's place. I could hear the walls building still within the cube that had been formed. Now gaining its materials from the body it had trapped within. There would be no beast to be found even if we were to tear open the box. I looked down at myself, my eyes wide and my heart hammering against the shell of my chest. And then I heard Deucalion groan once more. [[Next|Outlands 3]] <<set $power to "walls">> The luxury of thinking through a plan of action had never been an option for me. Whatever incarnation had come before me had come down to this world with a clear set of rules and an arsenal of knowledge. But I had not. I had been dropped into the Night Market with naive eyes and an open heart and had dumbly thought that there was no reason to protect myself. No reason to wrap myself in shields. To allow access to even a modicum of the power that I should have. Instead, I had walked through the world with the hope of gaining so much more than I ever had. And in return, I had ignored who I actually was. Not anymore. The voices of the dead had always lingered in my mind, driving me impossibly insane. They whispered to me at night and cried out when I couldn’t save them. In return, I had always cried with them. And now, the beasts were roaring in my ears like a river of blood and this man who had put his life on the line for no other reason than he was told to, was crying out in anguish. I could hear the tear of muscle and the pop of bone. The rip of skin. The way the stars wept behind their curtain above. Lacing my fingers together, I felt a scream rip through me, echoing against the noise reeling in my head. There was a pulse behind my fingers, trickling through my body like electricity before traveling across my arms to land in my lungs. I could feel the itch and the desire for something so much worse. As the beast came rushing towards me, I saw it in full clarity. It was three times my size with flaps of skin peeling from its face. Its webbed feet were slit with protruding, sticky claws. But it was the eyes that got to me the most. They were lifeless. White, swirling motes of dust that locked onto me as it sniffed the ground. When it charged towards me, however, I did not move. My body no longer felt like my own as I tipped my head to the side, looking towards every weak spot that it might show. A soft underbelly. A slit in the jugular. When I opened my mouth, wind poured from it, screaming down towards the sands and whipping up like a tornado. It whirled towards the creature, the sharp grains of earth slashing across his face and hindering its movement. I saw it pull back, roaring in frustration as it batted at its face. With another breath, I whipped more of the sand towards it, the grains forming into sharp blades. One by one they reached out, slicing across the animal's skin and crossing over themselves until blood poured from the wounds. A mournful wail could be heard from the beast as it stuttered and fell to the ground. It cut short with a gurgle as the waves of sand began to tidal over it, burying it far beneath the earth. I stood there breathing heavily, staring at what was right in front of me. A dune was forming in the dead creature's place. The trickling of sand echoed softly across the otherwise silent expanse as it raced to join its brethren in burying the enemy. I looked down at myself, my eyes wide and my heart hammering against the shell of my chest. And then I heard Deucalion groan once more. [[Next|Outlands 3]] <<set $power to "wind">>“Deucalion?” I skidded to my knees near him. The man laid flat on his back, supine as he stared towards the stars. I could see something dark and wet staining his skin and clothes, the fabric of his corset completely shredded. “Deucalion,” I said. “I need you to say something, okay? I– how bad are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” he grunted. Though he still was not moving. “The amount of blood doesn’t look like you are fine.” “Not blood,” he said. “Just give me a minute.” As the light from the cane poured over him, I saw the way his skin was split. But there was something different about it. At first the blood looked muddy. As if the dirt and viscous red had made some sort of paste. But as the light shone over it, I saw hints of yellow and green. The barest tinge of orange. His skin began kinittings itself together, leaving the exposed flesh a canvas for several different colors. “What the–?” <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> “Your friend Malcolm,” Deucalion asked. “Where is he?” <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> “The others,” Deucalion asked. “Where is Herald and Turner?” <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> "Don't worry about that," he stated. "It's not blood." Grunting, he tried to rise to his feet but instead knelt in the dirt, panting as the world swam around him.<</if>> I looked around. When the fighting had started I had lost sight of everything but the beast itself. The way it had eyes for only Deucalion felt like an odd sort of vendetta. And while I had saved the man, I now didn’t know where <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> Malcolm was. Standing, I looked around for him in the dark, my voice wavering as I called out his name. “Malcolm!” My mind began to spiral. Bringing Malcolm had been a mistake. He was a formidable force when he had been Gatekeeper but now he was human. He didn’t even have the abilities that ran through his bloodline. Malcolm was comfort and certainty but he was not a fighter. “Malcolm!” I heard a soft groan to the right and went running in the dark to find him. He was kneeling, clutching his stomach, one hand braced upon the ground. Skidding to a stop next to him, I began searching him for wounds. The telling sign of something sticky clinging to his skin and clothes. But for the most part, he looked intact. “Are you okay?” His hair hung in front of his face, blocking his eyes from me. While he nodded, he still was breathing through his nose. “Was just stupid,” he said through gritted teeth. “It won’t happen again.” “Stupid? What do you–” My eyes trailed down to where his hand was braced. There, beneath his palm, was a sigil seared into the ground. “Please tell me that is Gatekeeper magic that you instinctively tried to use and not something you learned from Lucinda.” He looked up at me through the thick of his lashes and I didn’t think I had ever seen Malcolm look so guilty. [[We use every resource we have]] [[You cannot actually think this is an option]] [[Please tell me this was just you panicking]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> we even were. There had been no discernable line to follow as we waded into the dark but I had naively hoped that if I looked around, truly paid attention, I would see some sort of path. “I’m still your guide,” Deucalion was laughing. Though his breath seemed much shorter with a soft wheeze to it. “Don’t look like all hope is lost yet. I will get you to where we are going.” “You’re hurt,” I pointed out. “I am,” he said with a nod. Pushing himself fully to his feet, I heard his back pop as he stretched. Inch by inch, his flesh began to knit together and in the dull light of his staff, I realized just how bad it actually was. Most would not survive what he had just been through. Yet, other than his clothes, Deucalion looked perfectly fine. “Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand for his staff to be returned. I stared at him, lips slightly parted. “Why do I have a feeling Belladonna chose you for a very specific reason.” In the dark, Deucalion's smile was extra bright. There was such amusement to his grin that it threatened to be infectious. “Belladonna Malady is an incredibly smart woman.” [[That thing tore into you]] [[Your wounds looked odd]] [[Why did it attack?]] <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> Herald and Turner were. Standing, I looked around for them in the dark, my voice wavering as I called out their name. “Herald! Turner!!” There was nothing. No sound greeted me. “Herald! Turner!” They had to be here somewhere. We hadn’t gone far from the path but everything had become so chaotic that I had lost track of them. I thought it was dark within the market proper but out here in the middle of nowhere, there was a new meaning to darkness. If I stretched out my arm, my fingers would disappear into the night. “Herald! Turner!” I tried again. My voice was carried out into the night, lost in the darkness. But then I heard it. Something soft and pained. It didn’t sound human and there was a feral ring to the cry. “Deucalion,” I said. “Your light.” Pushing himself to his feet, Deucalion used the staff to support himself, ambling towards me. The light glowed brighter the longer he held onto it, showcasing the paint still dripping down his form. By the time he reached me, I saw it. The hulking form of Herald bent over, speaking low to someone on the ground. I knew it was Turner. Logically, I knew it could be no one else. But I didn’t want to believe it. I rushed forward, my knees slamming to the ground. Turner’s lips were blue as he stared up into the sky. His breaths were shallow and pupils were blown. “You’re alright, honey,” Herald was whispering to him. “You just need to breathe.” There was a mechanical chime to him as he “breathed”. One that sounded unnatural. As I looked over Turner’s body I saw spots of blood but nothing that looked too severe. Yet the man was struggling to suck air into his lungs. “What happened?” I asked. Tears were gathering in the corner of his eyes as a few fearful little drops raced down his cheeks. “He’s just in a bit of shock. The excitement was too much for ‘im. He’ll be fine.” Herald's stitched hands ran down Turner’s chest, lingering over his heart. “You're going to be fine, Turner.” “Hurts,” Turner gasped out. “Think I broke something. Gonna have to open me up.” Herald shook his head. “Not out here.” “Not gonna make it back to the market,” he snapped at Herald. “So yes out here.” [[There was not enough ‘fucks’ in that sentence for comfort]] [[Don’t talk like that. You’ll make it back]] [[We just need to calm down for a minute and regroup]]<</if>>“There was really not enough ‘fucks’ in that sentence for comfort,” I tried to tease. I saw the shaky little twitch at the corner of Turner’s mouth. It turned into a wince as his hand reached out to clutch at his shirt. “Fuck you,” he gasped, but I didn’t notice the same amount of rebuke behind his words as before. “There it is.” I reached out, placing a hand on his own, trying to also promote some comfort. When Deucalion knelt by their side, he tipped the light closer. There was a strange look on his face as he took in the sights of Turner’s body. The strange way each labored breath of air sounded. “Does he need to be operated on?” “He needs to see my father,” Herald said. “I’ll carry him back.” “You can’t,” Turner said. “Yes I can.” Deucalion shook his head. “The beasts seem to be restless tonight. The light is the only thing keeping us from their view. If we go back ,all of us will have to go back. We can turn around now and hopefully be back in time to help this young man–” “No!” It was with effort that Turner sat up. “Fuck this. We did not travel out here and get our asses fucking handed to us, just to fuckin’ turn back and do it all over again. I just need a minute. I can fix my fucking heart and we’ll be on the way.” “Turner, I think it is best–” Herald was moving, ready to pick him up but Turner was already tearing at his shirt. I had seen the faint outline of a scar peeking from his shirt once. It was something long and puckered. Now I could see it for what it actually was. A small little door was nestled against his chest, the delicate skin growing across the hinges and weaving its way into the iron bars that made up the compartment. I watched in fascination as Turner made to flip a small latch, as if to open the door and reveal what was inside. Herald's hand was upon his, however, stopping him. “No,” he said firmly. I could see the internal fight. The way the both of them looked at each other. I had never seen Turner raise his voice to Herald. He treated the man with much more regard than anyone else. I wondered if now would be the time. “The world is dying,” Turner hissed. “We have a lead. I’m not going to be the one who fucks that all up.” “Turner,” I reasoned, “I can come back out here.” “No!” he shouted. “Fuckin’ no. In times of war you don’t just do things at a bullshit fucking pace. The fucking way to this stupid lantern is only clear once every full moon. Yeah, I fuckin’ listened to that vampire chick talking to you Herald. I know what’s at stake. We are not turning all the way back to fucking wait another month. We may not have that kind of fucking time. So shut the fuck up and lets keep on going.” [[No. We stop and rest]] [[Fine. But Herald carries you]] [[If you die, I’m bringing you back]]“Don’t talk like that,” I told him. “You’ll make it back to the market. We’ll make a stretcher or something and get you back there in no time.” Given what I could now do, I wondered if I could conjure up a secure way to carry him. “Don’t you fuckin’ move me,” Turner gasped. But I was finding I wasn’t keen on listening to his advice. When Deucalion knelt by their side, he tipped the light closer. There was a strange look on his face as he took in the sights of Turner’s body. The strange way each labored breath of air sounded. “Does he need to be operated on?” “He needs to see my father,” Herald said. “I’ll carry him back.” “You can’t,” Turner said. “Yes I can.” Deucalion shook his head. “The beasts seem to be restless tonight. The light is the only thing keeping us from their view. If we go back ,all of us will have to go back. We can turn around now and hopefully be back in time to help this young man–” “No!” It was with effort that Turner sat up. “Fuck this. We did not travel out here and get our asses fucking handed to us, just to fuckin’ turn back and do it all over again. I just need a minute. I can fix my fucking heart and we’ll be on the way.” “Turner, I think it is best–” Herald was moving, ready to pick him up but Turner was already tearing at his shirt. I had seen the faint outline of a scar peeking from his shirt once. It was something long and puckered. Now I could see it for what it actually was. A small little door was nestled against his chest, the delicate skin growing across the hinges and weaving its way into the iron bars that made up the compartment. I watched in fascination as Turner made to flip a small latch, as if to open the door and reveal what was inside. Herald's hand was upon his, however, stopping him. “No,” he said firmly. I could see the internal fight. The way the both of them looked at each other. I had never seen Turner raise his voice to Herald. He treated the man with much more regard than anyone else. I wondered if now would be the time. “The world is dying,” Turner hissed. “We have a lead. I’m not going to be the one who fucks that all up.” “Turner,” I reasoned, “I can come back out here.” “No!” he shouted. “Fuckin’ no. In times of war you don’t just do things at a bullshit fucking pace. The fucking way to this stupid lantern is only clear once every full moon. Yeah, I fuckin’ listened to that vampire chick talking to you Herald. I know what’s at stake. We are not turning all the way back to fucking wait another month. We may not have that kind of fucking time. So shut the fuck up and lets keep on going.” [[No. We stop and rest]] [[Fine. But Herald carries you]] [[If you die, I’m bringing you back]]“We just need to calm down for a minute,” I said. “Regroup.” A lot had just transpired in the course of ten minutes. Taking a few deep breaths and regaining our senses wasn’t a bad idea. “What is happening?” We had been walking for four hours by now. We could make it back to the market if need be. Get Turner to a doctor. To Victor. “It’s his heart,” Herald said. I couldn’t help but notice how his hands were still gripping Turner tight. “He has a condition. He shouldn’t even be out here.” “It was my choice, Herald.” Turner's face was lined with pain. His face was looking paler by the moment. When Deucalion knelt by their side, he tipped the light closer. There was a strange look on his face as he took in the sights of Turner’s body. The strange way each labored breath of air sounded. “Does he need to be operated on?” “He needs to see my father,” Herald said. “I’ll carry him back.” “You can’t,” Turner said. “Yes I can.” Deucalion shook his head. “The beasts seem to be restless tonight. The light is the only thing keeping us from their view. If we go back ,all of us will have to go back. We can turn around now and hopefully be back in time to help this young man–” “No!” It was with effort that Turner sat up. “Fuck this. We did not travel out here and get our asses fucking handed to us, just to fuckin’ turn back and do it all over again. I just need a minute. I can fix my fucking heart and we’ll be on the way.” “Turner, I think it is best–” Herald was moving, ready to pick him up but Turner was already tearing at his shirt. I had seen the faint outline of a scar peeking from his shirt once. It was something long and puckered. Now I could see it for what it actually was. A small little door was nestled against his chest, the delicate skin growing across the hinges and weaving its way into the iron bars that made up the compartment. I watched in fascination as Turner made to flip a small latch, as if to open the door and reveal what was inside. Herald's hand was upon his, however, stopping him. “No,” he said firmly. I could see the internal fight. The way the both of them looked at each other. I had never seen Turner raise his voice to Herald. He treated the man with much more regard than anyone else. I wondered if now would be the time. “The world is dying,” Turner hissed. “We have a lead. I’m not going to be the one who fucks that all up.” “Turner,” I reasoned, “I can come back out here.” “No!” he shouted. “Fuckin’ no. In times of war you don’t just do things at a bullshit fucking pace. The fucking way to this stupid lantern is only clear once every full moon. Yeah, I fuckin’ listened to that vampire chick talking to you Herald. I know what’s at stake. We are not turning all the way back to fucking wait another month. We may not have that kind of fucking time. So shut the fuck up and lets keep on going.” [[No. We stop and rest]] [[Fine. But Herald carries you]] [[If you die, I’m bringing you back]]“No,” I said. “We stop and we rest. We are not going to be leaving unless I can guarantee your health.” “The fuckin’ path to the city will be closed if we wait too long,” Turner said through gritted teeth. “Then it closes.” “Fucking hell, $name! You don’t get to fucking make those decisions! You are being a selfish, condescending, ass–” He cut himself off with a series of coughs. Ones so hard that he doubled over himself. When I watched him curl towards Herald, I could see the fear on his face. Herald had him in his arms momentarily, cradling him close to his body and breathing deeply with him. “May I make a suggestion,” Deucalion said, his voice low so as not to disturb the other two. “Let us walk for an hour. Have Hearld carry him. But the boy is agitated at the thought of turning back and the thought of staying here. It will do nothing for his heart condition.” I glanced towards the two and memorized the stricken look on Herald’s face. If anything happened to Turner, I didn’t think he would survive. Standing, I brushed the sand from my knees. “Herald, can you safely get him to the next city?” Herald’s blue eyes were filled with pain, but already, he was rising with Turner in his arms. “We will get there.” "Then I suggest we don't upset the patient more and we simply get to where we are going. We are past the halfway mark," Deucalion said. "Moving forward might be safer." I wanted to protest. I didn't know what was ahead. But the pain on Turner's face was like an ache in my chest. Without much of a choice, I stood with a grim nod. We would be moving forward. The rest of the journey was spent in tense silence. I could hear the way that Turner tried to keep the pain from his tone. The way that Herald murmured to him. I kept thinking of the furnace door across his heart. How he had looked when we were both in Victor’s medical ward downstairs at the graveyard. The faint tinge of blue to his lips said that he wasn’t doing well and it took everything in me not to feel crushed by the guilt of suggesting that Herald came out here. Because of course Turner was going to go with him. “You are still making the right choice,” Deucalion’s voice cut through my thoughts. His voice was low and while I knew the others could hear us, I didn’t think they cared. “If he dies it won’t feel like the right choice.” “He will not die,” Deucalion said. “I don’t believe the afterlife would want such vitriol.” I thought of Pen. Would $heshe throw Turner back? For me? “Come,” Deucalion told me softly. “Today has been long and the hours ahead will feel as if they stretch. But there must be something of benefit at the end of this journey.” [[I like the idea of a silver lining]] [[I don’t know if I should believe in hope anymore]] [[More journey is at the end of this journey]]“Fine,” I told him. “But Herald is carrying you. You are not setting foot on this ground and the second you look like you are worsening, you get no choice. We will be heading back. Slowly, Turner raised his hand, holding up his middle finger. Somehow, it was oddly comforting. The rest of the journey was spent in tense silence. I could hear the way that Turner tried to keep the pain from his tone. The way that Herald murmured to him. I kept thinking of the furnace door across his heart. How he had looked when we were both in Victor’s medical ward downstairs at the graveyard. The faint tinge of blue to his lips said that he wasn’t doing well and it took everything in me not to feel crushed by the guilt of suggesting that Herald came out here. Because of course Turner was going to go with him. “You are still making the right choice,” Deucalion’s voice cut through my thoughts. His voice was low and while I knew the others could hear us, I didn’t think they cared. “If he dies it won’t feel like the right choice.” “He will not die,” Deucalion said. “I don’t believe the afterlife would want such vitriol.” I thought of Pen. Would $heshe throw Turner back? For me? “Come,” Deucalion told me softly. “Today has been long and the hours ahead will feel as if they stretch. But there must be something of benefit at the end of this journey.” [[I like the idea of a silver lining]] [[I don’t know if I should believe in hope anymore]] [[More journey is at the end of this journey]] I leaned forward, close enough to smell the fear that Turner was trying to mask. “If you die,” I told him. “I am bringing you back.” “No fuck. You’d be a shitty Night Market if you didn’t,” Turner snapped. “No. You don’t understand. I will be bringing you back and you will be indebted to me for the rest of your life, Turner. This is a threat. So don’t die.” He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with my threat. But I could see a small amount of appreciation cross him. Threats equated to care for Turner. Standing, I looked out towards the horizon. “How much further do you think we need to go?” I asked. Deucalion sighed. “Two hours. Three tops. Do you think you will be able to make it, turner?” He tried getting to his feet, stumbling a few times. Herald simply picked him up. “We’ll make it.” “Then let us be off then.” The rest of the journey was spent in tense silence. I could hear the way that Turner tried to keep the pain from his tone. The way that Herald murmured to him. I kept thinking of the furnace door across his heart. How he had looked when we were both in Victor’s medical ward downstairs at the graveyard. The faint tinge of blue to his lips said that he wasn’t doing well and it took everything in me not to feel crushed by the guilt of suggesting that Herald came out here. Because of course Turner was going to go with him. “You are still making the right choice,” Deucalion’s voice cut through my thoughts. His voice was low and while I knew the others could hear us, I didn’t think they cared. “If he dies it won’t feel like the right choice.” “He will not die,” Deucalion said. “I don’t believe the afterlife would want such vitriol.” I thought of Pen. Would $heshe throw Turner back? For me? “Come,” Deucalion told me softly. “Today has been long and the hours ahead will feel as if they stretch. But there must be something of benefit at the end of this journey.” [[I like the idea of a silver lining]] [[I don’t know if I should believe in hope anymore]] [[More journey is at the end of this journey]] “I do like the idea of a silver lining,” I said. “It would do us some good to have one. Even if it is just some sort of reconnaissance mission like Belladonna said, it is more than what we have.” Deucalion smiled broadly, tapping his cane on the ground a few extra times. The support was an extension of himself. A way in which he emoted. “That’s the spirit!” We walked for what felt like hours. Occasionally I looked back towards Herald and Turner. It looked as if Turner had fallen asleep, his head resting on Herald's shoulder. The tightness around the bigger man's eyes was more prominent with each step. It was only with a slow dawning realization that I understood that he wasn’t becoming more worried. But in fact, the area around us was lighting up. Bit by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] “I don’t know if I should believe in hope anymore.” It wasn’t that I was disregarding the idea of it all together. But believing in it felt detrimental somehow. Like the harder I believed in it the more likely it was that it would be taken away from me. “Pandora’s Box says otherwise,” Deucalion said. “Yet, hope is what you make of it. An interpretation. If the version of hope you once believed in is not working for you, perhaps it is time to change the definition for yourself.” I watched as the man walked away from me, his smile encouraging as he passed Herald and Turner and patted his old friend on the shoulder. We walked for what felt like hours. Occasionally I looked back towards Herald and Turner. It looked as if Turner had fallen asleep, his head resting on Herald's shoulder. The tightness around the bigger man's eyes was more prominent with each step. It was only with a slow dawning realization that I understood that he wasn’t becoming more worried. But in fact, the area around us was lighting up. Bit by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] “More journeys are at the end of this journey,” I told him. Because that’s always what it was. Another task. Another lead. One problem solved for several more to occur. There was a small part of me that did hope that at the end of this path in the Outlands, there would be answers. But how many times before had answers been handed to me in a crumpled heap? “Are you a fatalist?” Deucalion mused. “I think I am more of a realist.” It wasn’t necessarily that I had lost all hope. But more than that I was coming to the conclusion that I may never be done. That one problem would end and another unrelated would arise and potentially, just potentially, that was life. We walked for what felt like hours. Occasionally I looked back towards Herald and Turner. It looked as if Turner had fallen asleep, his head resting on Herald's shoulder. The tightness around the bigger man's eyes was more prominent with each step. It was only with a slow dawning realization that I understood that he wasn’t becoming more worried. But in fact, the area around us was lighting up. Bit by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] At first, I saw nothing. Deucalion put his arm out, motioning for a moment of pause. It was just in the nick of time as my toes skidded near the end of a cliffedge and pebbles went skittering downwards. There was a yawning chasm beneath me but I couldn’t tell how far it fell or what was down there. But as Deucalion swept his cane over the mass of empty air, I saw something glint down below. $companion tipped forward a little, peering down into the dark. “Is that… cloud cover?” “It would seem that way,” Deucalion murmured. “I didn't think we were walking uphill. Why would there be clouds down there?” “Fog?” I suggested. “The air doesn’t feel damp.” “I thought you had been here before?" <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> Mal asked. <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> Herald asked. <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> I asked. <</if>> “I have. Each city looks a bit different each time I come. I have yet to derive if it is simply a glamor the Outlands have perfected through the years or if the city changes through a different passage of time than ours does.” I looked left and right, trying to discern if I could find a path anywhere that might lead us downwards or even a bridge across. At this point, it was clear we didn’t know where we were even going but heading back was not an option. Not yet, at least. “You keep saying city. I thought we were looking for a lantern?” It occurred to me now that I probably should have inquired more into these lanterns. Out here, given the terrain we were navigating, I wasn’t sure why I thought we’d be able to just find one in the midst of all the sand. “This particular lantern is within the city,” Deucalion said. I could see now a series of steps that he was tapping his foot on. Trying to test their resilience. “Which, given what this city contains, the task of finding such a lantern will not come easily.” There was a sign nearby. A quaint little road sign with faded lettering. //The City of the Lost Lanterns//. The irony was not lost on me. “No time like the present, I suppose.” I motioned for Deucalion to continue walking, only this time, down the steps. I didn't know what we were getting into and the idea of being able to form any sort of plan didn’t seem possible. So, instead, I waited. Biding my time as I took the steps carefully down, one hand on the wall for support. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> Herald was behind me, supporting a nearly unconscious Turner. I tried not to think of them falling to their demise.<</if>> [[Next|Down the stairs]] The steps themselves were made of hardened sand, the tops of which looked as if they were polished glass. I felt my feet slip precariously a few times, my heart giving away to a rumble as I nearly fell off the narrow expanse. We didn’t speak while we walked. We didn’t even dare breathe wrong. One strong gust of wind and we ran the risk of tumbling into the abyss. The air around us grew thicker as we descended, a thin layer of dew surrounding us. I felt the moment we stepped into the cloud cover. Because that was the only way it could be described. It was not foggy like near Belladonna’s cathedral. Nor was it near the ground. As we came out on the other side of the barrier, I realized just how high off the ground we truly were. What looked like miles below us was a city. Something huge and sprawling and full of light. It was blinding. Bits of glass reflected in different colors, bouncing off the sandy walls and illuminating the canyon. When I looked up, I didn’t see the cliff face we had come from. Nor did the stair lean heavily on a wall any longer. Instead, I was on a spiral staircase, descending from above and reaching down into a sprawling city below. “Welcome to the City of Lost Lanterns,” Deucalion said. “It is good to be back, I must say. This particular one has a penchant for moving. I have not been here in years.” It took us an hour to trail down the stairs. At least this time there was a railing that kept us far more secure than before. The steps were sturdy and as we got closer to the bottom, I noticed the inlay of colored glass and ceramics. Like broken bits of pottery were embedded into the sand. When we were only three stories up, I realized then what all the glass was that I was seeing. Beautiful abodes were built all around, mimicking the market stalls of the Night Market Proper. And they were filled to the brim with broken lanterns. I stopped in my tracks as I looked at them all. Some were made of glass. Others metal. Some were nothing more than bits of shredded paper. But they were all lanterns of some variety, housed in these small market stalls. Though no one seemed to be shopping for them. They walked back and forth along the meandering streets, stopping at other vendors or speaking to old friends. The lanterns remained, however. Little bits of history with waxy candles inside, all placed in strategic spots to bounce light through the city itself. “Did the lights never go out here?” I asked. Deucalion took the last few steps, hopping off the bottom and holding his hand out for me. He helped me down the last three steps, the likes of which creaked as if they were the only ones unsturdy in the bunch. “The lights were never on here to begin with,” he said. “No lantern here has been lit by magic in a long while. The residents merely just use their candles to keep everything running, producing heat energy to power any of the devices that may have needed magic to operate. But this is a magic deadzone, I’m afraid.” “Like what the Velvet Guard demands? A controlled use of magic or magic that has been taken.” “I’m unsure. I just know that no one can do anything here. Not even a small and flickering flame. And because of that, they have gotten quite good at candle making.” “How are we supposed to find a broken lamp in a sea of broken lamps?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question but one that I was afraid would plague us going forward. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> “Excuse me,” Herald started. “I think I’m going to go make camp with him now that we are here. Help him get some sleep.” I nodded. Turner's eyes were barely open “We can come with you. Help get him settled.” “No. You keep doin’ what you’re doin’. Turner was right. We may only have one shot at this.” He tipped his head to me, his smile tight. Turner unconsciously rolled into Herald in his sleep. <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> "Give it some time, Lamplight. There is a lot to take in here and we do not need to rush this." He was looking around, eyes squinting at the various market stalls and buildings. "I feel like we'll lose momentum if we slow down." Malcolm gave me a knowing smile as he reached forward to squeeze my hand. "Tell you what. You go and take a look around and I'll try and get some coin. It doesn't look like they take bits and I don't want to rely on favors. We're going to need money for a place to stay tonight. And for food." "Are you sure we should split up?" Malcolm glanced towards Deucalion. "It'll be fine." Then, without warning, he brought my hand to his lips, brushing a cool kiss across my skin. "See you soon, Lamplight." I watched him go, wondering if I had imagined it all.<</if>> “I think our first order of business,” Deucalion began, "is to decide in this sea of broken lamps, how you would like to proceed?” “I think the first question we have to ask is if we are going to be honest with why we’re here,” I said. “Are we telling them we are in search of a lantern to light all the ones back at the market proper, or are we keeping that secret for now.” “I really don’t know if there is a benefit to either,” Deucalion told me. “Shall we go and get a drink? Everyone always spills their secrets at bars.” “Are we looking for a secret?” “We are simply looking. Or, I should say you are. My job is technically done. Though, I will stay with you. I think Belladonna’s threat of dismemberment implies that you do need to return to her, safe and whole.” [[Next|Outlands 4]] We walked through the city streets, my eyes taking in the various buildings around us. All made from broken glass and held together with welded bars that were rusted with time. The city itself not only looked old, but gave an air of something far more ancient and wise. It was in direct opposition to the youthful smiles wandering the streets. Unlike Nebula, no one here seemed particularly uneasy about a new presence. In fact, they saw it as an opportunity to sell to me. “You there!” A man with disco eyes clapped his hands to gain my attention. “You look like someone in need. Come come! Browse my wares. I have a special today. Only for you!” “Buzz off, Harley!” The woman across the way yelled. “Your special ‘as been runnin’ for fifteen odd years! No one wants your broken toys. Come ‘ere, dearie! Come visit Auntie Clem. I’ll give you a deal on some new jewelry. Direct from the freshest of falling lights.” “No!” A new voice chimed in. “I have ground glass for the perfect seasoning to tonights steak. Half price!” I looked at Deucalion with a bemused expression as we walked through the streets, hearing the vendors yell at each other. There was comfort in the fact that even though this city was sequestered away, it still held the same vibrancy of the Spice District. The colors of the Fashion District. The feeling of wonder and hope and home. I didn’t want places like this to be in the dark any longer. I wanted to broaden the world. Break away from the walls that were shackling us. I wanted– “$name,” Deucalion said, drawing me from my reverie. “Given what you are, do you know if you can control the lights at all?” [[Maybe]] [[That would be convenient]] [[If I could, I would have turned them on by now]] <<if $power == "lights">> [[I think I did back there]]<</if>> “Maybe? I’m not sure what all my body can do yet. I don’t even know if it can call upon my higher self. That’s why I need to become corporeal again. Everything feels uncertain right now.” “Okay then,” Deucalion said. “Follow up question.” Lifting his hand, he pointed across that way. “What’s going on there, you think.” There was a table across the way from us inside a small makeshift alley of broken glass windows and hollowed out lanterns. Except for one table. Situated far in the back, blocked by the louder vendors, lanterns were spread out across a multicolored blanket. And all of them were glowing with a bright amber light. Given how the lights were within the cities, I don’t think I would have given it much thought if the girl who ran the table was not trying to hide them. As a few of the vendors before her were looking her way, she was throwing whatever she had on hand over the glowing lanterns. Without speaking, I began to walk towards her. She was drawing a crowd now. A couple of the vendors coming up to her table and speaking to her in low tones. “Turn them off, you thief.” “What do you think you’re doing?” “You desecrate everything that is holy to us.” I stopped, just on the other side of the circle forming. “What is going on here?” The girl, a meager slip of a woman, looked at me with wide eyes, her gray toned hands were shaking in fear. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” The way her eyes dipped bothered me. She couldn’t look at me. At anyone. She bowed her head in shame, as if she were a lesser being than the ones crowding around her. “Leave,” one of the other women said. “You don’t want her lanterns. If you are looking for something then come to my stall. I’ll set you up.” “Or mine,” the man next to her said. “Forget all of them. Come to mine.” I ignored them all, however. Looking at the girl with the amber colored eyes and the ashy gypsum skin. Tears were gathering as her breath was coming in fast little gasps. The walls were closing in on her and the people were speaking too loud and no matter what it was that she did they just kept pushing closer closer closer… [[Shove everyone away]] [[Move towards the girl]] [[Declare your money for the girl]] “That would be convenient,” I said with a disillusioned laugh. If I was able to fix the market this entire time and I just hadn’t, I think I might scream. Then again, an easy answer would be refreshing after so many hurdles. “Okay then,” Deucalion said. “Follow up question.” Lifting his hand, he pointed across that way. “What’s going on there, you think.” There was a table across the way from us inside a small makeshift alley of broken glass windows and hollowed out lanterns. Except for one table. Situated far in the back, blocked by the louder vendors, lanterns were spread out across a multicolored blanket. And all of them were glowing with a bright amber light. Given how the lights were within the cities, I don’t think I would have given it much thought if the girl who ran the table was not trying to hide them. As a few of the vendors before her were looking her way, she was throwing whatever she had on hand over the glowing lanterns. Without speaking, I began to walk towards her. She was drawing a crowd now. A couple of the vendors coming up to her table and speaking to her in low tones. “Turn them off, you thief.” “What do you think you’re doing?” “You desecrate everything that is holy to us.” I stopped, just on the other side of the circle forming. “What is going on here?” The girl, a meager slip of a woman, looked at me with wide eyes, her gray toned hands were shaking in fear. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” The way her eyes dipped bothered me. She couldn’t look at me. At anyone. She bowed her head in shame, as if she were a lesser being than the ones crowding around her. “Leave,” one of the other women said. “You don’t want her lanterns. If you are looking for something then come to my stall. I’ll set you up.” “Or mine,” the man next to her said. “Forget all of them. Come to mine.” I ignored them all, however. Looking at the girl with the amber colored eyes and the ashy gypsum skin. Tears were gathering as her breath was coming in fast little gasps. The walls were closing in on her and the people were speaking too loud and no matter what it was that she did they just kept pushing closer closer closer… [[Shove everyone away]] [[Move towards the girl]] [[Declare your money for the girl]] “If I could, I would have turned them on by now.” I wished it was that easy. With a snap of the fingers, I would have lit up the entire world if I thought it was in my power. I was ashamed to admit that there were some nights I had sat and done such, in some vain hope that it was an ability pushed deep down. “Okay then,” Deucalion said. “Follow up question.” Lifting his hand, he pointed across that way. “What’s going on there, you think.” There was a table across the way from us inside a small makeshift alley of broken glass windows and hollowed out lanterns. Except for one table. Situated far in the back, blocked by the louder vendors, lanterns were spread out across a multicolored blanket. And all of them were glowing with a bright amber light. Given how the lights were within the cities, I don’t think I would have given it much thought if the girl who ran the table was not trying to hide them. As a few of the vendors before her were looking her way, she was throwing whatever she had on hand over the glowing lanterns. Without speaking, I began to walk towards her. She was drawing a crowd now. A couple of the vendors coming up to her table and speaking to her in low tones. “Turn them off, you thief.” “What do you think you’re doing?” “You desecrate everything that is holy to us.” I stopped, just on the other side of the circle forming. “What is going on here?” The girl, a meager slip of a woman, looked at me with wide eyes, her gray toned hands were shaking in fear. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” The way her eyes dipped bothered me. She couldn’t look at me. At anyone. She bowed her head in shame, as if she were a lesser being than the ones crowding around her. “Leave,” one of the other women said. “You don’t want her lanterns. If you are looking for something then come to my stall. I’ll set you up.” “Or mine,” the man next to her said. “Forget all of them. Come to mine.” I ignored them all, however. Looking at the girl with the amber colored eyes and the ashy gypsum skin. Tears were gathering as her breath was coming in fast little gasps. The walls were closing in on her and the people were speaking too loud and no matter what it was that she did they just kept pushing closer closer closer… [[Shove everyone away]] [[Move towards the girl]] [[Declare your money for the girl]] “I– I think I may have back there,” I whispered. “When I picked up your staff out in the Outlands, the light felt as if it were filling me. It reacted not to my thoughts but to my emotions and…” I trailed off before I could get ahead of myself. Or make myself look like a fool. “I don’t know,” I told him. “Not really, at least.” But I was hopeful. Oh, was I hopeful. “Okay then,” Deucalion said. “Follow up question.” Lifting his hand, he pointed across that way. “What’s going on there, you think.” There was a table across the way from us inside a small makeshift alley of broken glass windows and hollowed out lanterns. Except for one table. Situated far in the back, blocked by the louder vendors, lanterns were spread out across a multicolored blanket. And all of them were glowing with a bright amber light. Given how the lights were within the cities, I don’t think I would have given it much thought if the girl who ran the table was not trying to hide them. As a few of the vendors before her were looking her way, she was throwing whatever she had on hand over the glowing lanterns. Without speaking, I began to walk towards her. She was drawing a crowd now. A couple of the vendors coming up to her table and speaking to her in low tones. “Turn them off, you thief.” “What do you think you’re doing?” “You desecrate everything that is holy to us.” I stopped, just on the other side of the circle forming. “What is going on here?” The girl, a meager slip of a woman, looked at me with wide eyes, her gray toned hands were shaking in fear. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” The way her eyes dipped bothered me. She couldn’t look at me. At anyone. She bowed her head in shame, as if she were a lesser being than the ones crowding around her. “Leave,” one of the other women said. “You don’t want her lanterns. If you are looking for something then come to my stall. I’ll set you up.” “Or mine,” the man next to her said. “Forget all of them. Come to mine.” I ignored them all, however. Looking at the girl with the amber colored eyes and the ashy gypsum skin. Tears were gathering as her breath was coming in fast little gasps. The walls were closing in on her and the people were speaking too loud and no matter what it was that she did they just kept pushing closer closer closer… [[Shove everyone away]] [[Move towards the girl]] [[Declare your money for the girl]] I shoved through them all, uncaring with the way they were jostled or the protests that fell from their lips. I didn’t want them anywhere near the girl. Their hands. Their accusations. I could see how they would take her in the middle of the night. How they would discard her body out within the sands. “Get out,” I told all of them. “Now.” “How dare you,” one of them growled. I didn’t even care which one. “You come to our city and lay hands on us? You are not welcome here either. Just like her!” I turned to the group and while I couldn’t be sure, I thought that the lights behind me flared brighter. “Witchcraft,” one of the vendors gasped as they scuttled away. The others were quick to follow. It left me, the girl, and Deucalion. “I’m so sorry,” the girl babbled. “Please do not report me. I don’t know why they are glowing like they do but it is real magic. I am not trying to sell a false idol. Please.” I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about but I held my hands up in peace. “What’s your name?” I asked her. “Willatru,” she said with a small courtesy. “Everyone just calls me Willa for short.” “Ms. Willa,” Deucalion stepped forward. “I don’t know what it is you are afraid that we are going to do but I promise you that we only came over because of the commotion.” I nodded in agreement. “We aren’t here to arrest you or take your wares.” She didn’t look as if she believed us. Thin dark hair fell over one shoulder, split at the ends and crimped with little pieces of broken glass. They too pulsed, although not as brightly. When she moved, they clinked against each other, making pleasant little bell sounds as she began to smother the light on her table. [[Why did they seem to have such an issue with the lights?]] [[Can we help you in any way?]] [[We’re actually here because of lamps]] <<set $convince to "false">> I worked my way through the crowd so I could get to the girl's side. Without thinking, I took her arm within mine and smiled. “So it worked then? What I sold you?” The woman who had started the commotion turned her gaze towards me. “You did this? You got this girl involved in this mess? You should be ashamed of yourself!” “False idols.” “This city is going to hell.” “Begone!” I smiled at each of them in turn. “Unless you are going to buy, I do need you to make way for paying customers.” Images of them breaking the girls' wares came into view. Lighting them on fire and burying the melted glass beneath the sand. And while I couldn’t be sure, I thought the lights might have glowed brighter in response to my anger. “Witchcraft,” one of the vendors gasped as they scuttled away. The others were quick to follow. It left me, the girl, and Deucalion. “I’m so sorry,” the girl babbled. “Please do not report me. I don’t know why they are glowing like they do but it is real magic. I am not trying to sell a false idol. Please.” I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about but I held my hands up in peace. “What’s your name?” I asked her. “Willatru,” she said with a small courtesy. “Everyone just calls me Willa for short.” “Ms. Willa,” Deucalion stepped forward. “I don’t know what it is you are afraid that we are going to do but I promise you that we only came over because of the commotion.” I nodded in agreement. “We aren’t here to arrest you or take your wares.” She didn’t look as if she believed us. Thin dark hair fell over one shoulder, split at the ends and crimped with little pieces of broken glass. They too pulsed, although not as brightly. When she moved, they clinked against each other, making pleasant little bell sounds as she began to smother the light on her table. [[Why did they seem to have such an issue with the lights?]] [[Can we help you in any way?]] [[We’re actually here because of lamps]] <<set $convince to "true">> My mind was swirling as I stepped forward, quieting whatever thoughts I had gleaned from her. “I think I’ll be spending my money here,” I declared. I could feel the way the other vendors were going to try and protest. Argue with me why their wares were better. But their words were cut short. Dying in their throat. On the tables, the lamps glowed. I could see the abject fear that was starting to twist through the group. The soft glow from the lanterns had them backing away. <<if $power == "lights">> I wondered if I was doing it. If it was feeding off of me.<</if>> “Witchcraft,” one of the vendors gasped as they scuttled away. The others were quick to follow. It left me, the girl, and Deucalion. “I’m so sorry,” the girl babbled. “Please do not report me. I don’t know why they are glowing like they do but it is real magic. I am not trying to sell a false idol. Please.” I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about but I held my hands up in peace. “What’s your name?” I asked her. “Willatru,” she said with a small courtesy. “Everyone just calls me Willa for short.” “Ms. Willa,” Deucalion stepped forward. “I don’t know what it is you are afraid that we are going to do but I promise you that we only came over because of the commotion.” I nodded in agreement. “We aren’t here to arrest you or take your wares.” She didn’t look as if she believed us. Thin dark hair fell over one shoulder, split at the ends and crimped with little pieces of broken glass. They too pulsed, although not as brightly. When she moved, they clinked against each other, making pleasant little bell sounds as she began to smother the light on her table. [[Why did they seem to have such an issue with the lights?]] [[Can we help you in any way?]] [[We’re actually here because of lamps]] <<set $convince to "false">>“Why did they seem to have such an issue with the lights?” I asked. Back home, we were dying without them. If anyone from the market proper saw real, working lights, I doubted there was a price too high to pay for them. Willa looked at us however with a stern look, clearly not understanding why we were still talking about any of this. “They believe it to be contraband,” she said. “But it is not.” “No,” Deucalion was saying slowly, “I suspect that those are actually the real thing.” Willa didn’t answer that, only continued to gather her things before hauling the makeshift sack over her shoulder. “I must be going.” Planting my hands on the table, I leaned in close. “Please, I told her. We mean you no harm. We have come to your city looking for a way to relight broken lanterns and these right here–” “Are not broken,” she said. “Now, leave me alone.” She tied up the corners of the blanket that the lanterns all sat on, shoving a thick rod through the top and hiking the entirety of it over her shoulder. [[I’m afraid I can’t]] [[Back away from the girl]] [[If you change your mind, please come find me]] “Can we help you in any way?” She looked as if she was ready to bolt. Carelessly she was wrapping up her wares, ready to abandon anything she could not carry on her back. “Maybe we could help you transport some of these lanterns to your home?” “No,” she said, eyes bent to the ground. “I am fine.” “With the way that those people were acting, I would feel more comfortable knowing that you got to wherever you were going safely. Really, Deucalion and I–” “Leave me alone,” she snapped. “I do not need or want your help. And if you know what is good for you, you will forget you’ve even seen me and spread whatever coin you have through the other vendors so they forgive your association.” “Well that just seems a bit dramatic,” Deucalion murmured. Planting my hands on the table, I leaned in close. “Please, I told her. We mean you no harm. We have come to your city looking for a way to relight broken lanterns and these right here–” “Are not broken,” she said. “Now, leave me alone.” She tied up the corners of the blanket that the lanterns all sat on, shoving a thick rod through the top and hiking the entirety of it over her shoulder. [[I’m afraid I can’t]] [[Back away from the girl]] [[If you change your mind, please come find me]] “We’re actually here because of lamps,” I told her honestly. “The ones where the two of us are from don’t light anymore.” “I’m sorry about that,” Willa said. “You should have one of the fixers come and take a look at them. Hear they’re expensive but I’m sure they’d make a good deal and install some of the new enchantments in them.” “Willa,” Deucalion said gently. “We’re not looking for enchantments. These lamps burned bright on their own for years. They indicate the passage of the day. The rise and set of our proverbial sun. They did not run off of technology.” “That’s not true,” she said, casting her eyes away from us. “All lamps run off of tech. Magic. It’s just the way it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got to go.” “Yours aren’t running off of tech,” I said. Despite her best efforts, I could still see the glow within the blanket. “If they ran off tech like everyone else, I doubt that everyone would hold such an interest in them.” “You think that was interest?” she laughed uneasily. “That was almost a mob. Now please. There are plenty of other vendors who can get you what you need. I must go.” Planting my hands on the table, I leaned in close. “Please, I told her. We mean you no harm. We have come to your city looking for a way to relight broken lanterns and these right here–” “Are not broken,” she said. “Now, leave me alone.” She tied up the corners of the blanket that the lanterns all sat on, shoving a thick rod through the top and hiking the entirety of it over her shoulder. [[I’m afraid I can’t]] [[Back away from the girl]] [[If you change your mind, please come find me]] “I’m afraid I can’t.” Just like in the Outlands, I called for something I didn’t understand. <<if $power == "light">> Raising my hand, I felt the world around me rumble. Shadows began to moan in the absence of the light. And in front of me, inside her sack, the lights began to quiver. <<elseif $power == "wind">> Raising my hand, the wind began to pick up, knocking glass lanterns together and sending them shattering to the ground. The ones falling from the sky were knocked off course and the flaps of each market awning began to flap ominously. <<elseif $power == "walls">> Raising my hand, the ground beneath me began to move. Stones and shattered bits of rock rolled past me and towards the girl, beginning to stack up around her ankles as if to box her in.<</if>> Deucalion placed a hand on my wrist, pushing it back down. “Go,” he told the girl. She had wide eyes, filled with tears. She didn’t hesitate when the world began to calm. She simply shoved past both Deucalion and I and deep into the market. Deucalion's hand was still on me as we watched her go. “I wouldn’t, if I were you,” he murmured. Several onlookers had turned our way. “Not because a display of power isn’t a course of action, but simply because we need to get help from these people. Not make them run in fear.” “We have to do something,” I reasoned. “We can’t just let her go.” “Well, she cannot be the only one with glowing lanterns around here,” Deucalion said. “Shall we spend the evening wandering around, discerning the charlatans from the professionals?” “You think there are more like her?” “I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet that if there's not, someone will at least give us some information about her and what she is selling. Because no one acts that way everyone did here without a deep desire to spread hideous gossip.” “Then that’s what we do.” We took the path that Willa did but she was already gone. Life in the city resumed, the vendors calling out to us. Now that I could look at them, I could see the glow of the lanterns for what they were. Spells. Bits of enchantment. Long lasting candles placed inside an imperfect home. <<if $convince == "false">> “That was a very handy trick you did back there, by the way.” I side eyed Deucalion. “Trick?” “Where you made everyone stop speaking so suddenly. Where did you learn to do that?” <<elseif $convince == "true">> "That was a very handy trick you did back there." I side eyed Deucalion. "Trick?" "You convinced an angry mob to back down with a single sentence. There was magic in that."<</if>> [[Side effect, I suppose]] [[I didn’t even realize I was doing it]] <<set $willa to "scared">> With my hands up, I backed away from the girl. I didn’t want to frighten her but she may have been my only chance for my people back home. The way she was looking, however, the way she merely wished to bolt. I was afraid that if I let her out of my sight, I’d never see her again. “Please,” she begged, “just let me leave in peace. I do not want any trouble. I have a family.” Deucalion placed a hand on my arm, gaining my attention. The second I turned away from the girl, she ran. Racing through the streets with her pack bouncing against her back. “Do you wish to follow her?” Deucalion asked. I now saw the tracker in him. The way he could easily disappear as another patron of the city while simultaneously keeping a tail on the girl before him. I shook my head. “We are going to need to trust her,” I told him. “There’s a possibility she might be telling the truth.” “Do you think she is?” “No. Not with how scared she was. But, I can’t just force someone to talk to us.” I refused to be that person. To become like my sister. I was not going to throw a tantrum and take the world by force. “Well, she cannot be the only one with glowing lanterns around here,” Deucalion said. “Shall we spend the evening wandering around, discerning the charlatans from the professionals?” “You think there are more like her?” “I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet that if there's not, someone will at least give us some information about her and what she is selling. Because no one acts that way everyone did here without a deep desire to spread hideous gossip.” “Then that’s what we do.” We took the path that Willa did but she was already gone. Life in the city resumed, the vendors calling out to us. Now that I could look at them, I could see the glow of the lanterns for what they were. Spells. Bits of enchantment. Long lasting candles placed inside an imperfect home. <<if $convince == "false">> “That was a very handy trick you did back there, by the way.” I side eyed Deucalion. “Trick?” “Where you made everyone stop speaking so suddenly. Where did you learn to do that?” <<elseif $convince == "true">> "That was a very handy trick you did back there." I side eyed Deucalion. "Trick?" "You convinced an angry mob to back down with a single sentence. There was magic in that."<</if>> [[I didn’t do that]] [[Side effect, I suppose]] [[I didn’t even realize I was doing it]] <<set $willa to "trusting">> I stood up straight, nodding my head and giving her room to run if she needed to. “Okay,” I told her. “I understand. But if you change your mind, please come and find me.” With her head down, she scooted by, the pack knocking against me. As she walked away, a soft pulsing glow came from around her, gaining the attention of many and the sneers of a few. “Do you wish to follow her?” Deucalion asked. I now saw the tracker in him. The way he could easily disappear as another patron of the city while simultaneously keeping a tail on the girl before him. I shook my head. “We are going to need to trust her,” I told him. “There’s a possibility she might be telling the truth.” “Do you think she is?” “No. Not with how scared she was. But, I can’t just force someone to talk to us.” I refused to be that person. To become like my sister. I was not going to throw a tantrum and take the world by force. “Well, she cannot be the only one with glowing lanterns around here,” Deucalion said. “Shall we spend the evening wandering around, discerning the charlatans from the professionals?” “You think there are more like her?” “I don’t know. But I’m willing to bet that if there's not, someone will at least give us some information about her and what she is selling. Because no one acts that way everyone did here without a deep desire to spread hideous gossip.” “Then that’s what we do.” We took the path that Willa did but she was already gone. Life in the city resumed, the vendors calling out to us. Now that I could look at them, I could see the glow of the lanterns for what they were. Spells. Bits of enchantment. Long lasting candles placed inside an imperfect home. <<if $convince == "false">> “That was a very handy trick you did back there, by the way.” I side eyed Deucalion. “Trick?” “Where you made everyone stop speaking so suddenly. Where did you learn to do that?” <<elseif $convince == "true">> "That was a very handy trick you did back there." I side eyed Deucalion. "Trick?" "You convinced an angry mob to back down with a single sentence. There was magic in that."<</if>> [[I didn’t do that]] [[Side effect, I suppose]] [[I didn’t even realize I was doing it]] <<set $willa to "trusting">>“I didn’t do that,” I told him. There were several things that didn’t make sense to me about our introduction here. The way the people had stopped talking so abruptly. The fear in their eyes. The way the lights pulsed. While there was an eager part of me that wished to explore my powers, I didn’t know if that was the kind I wished to wield. “Are you sure about that,” Deucalion asked. “Seems to me that your abilities are making themselves known. Proximity to something out here perhaps? Or maybe just a sign that you are figuring yourself out.” It was worth looking into. The more control I could gain of the market again, the easier it would be to fix. We spent the next couple of hours wandering through the vendors, trying to find lights that were similar to the ones that Willatrue had run away with. Most of the vendors at the entrance were all lantern sellers. Cobbling together some of the lanterns that had fallen and making them into pretty representations of what they actually were. They put something inside though. A flickering light they had conjured. Most booths boast a full day of life before needing to have a tech change. They weren’t like the lanterns back home. The further in we went, the more homes I saw. The little vendors that were out front were a tourist gimmick while inside the city, people were walking back and forth, some building new structures, others carrying water and food. A thriving community was here, pushed back from the reflective surfaces of all the glass and out of the way of any of the falling lost lanterns above. I looked upwards with a sigh. The night left me discouraged. I was in the correct place, but only by feeling. No one seemed surprised that someone from the market proper was here but no one seemed concerned about the lights there as well. Most that wandered the streets were travelers. Some from other Outland towns. Some from the market itself. Apparently, the idea that the Outlands was incredibly sequestered, did not hold true. “Well, we can try again in the morning,” Deucalion was saying. He had gotten himself a steaming mug of something chalky smelling and was sipping on it. I had hoped to be on my way back by now but with nothing to show for our time, heading home felt like a failure. Not to mention, I didn’t particularly want to travel through the dark again. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> “We should find Herald. Get some accommodations,” I said. <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> “We should find Malcolm. Get some accommodations,” I said. <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> “We need to find some accommodations.”<</if>> Deucalion nodded. “I can take care of that for you.” He offered me the mug but I shook my head no. Motioning for him to have it. “Can I ask you a question, Night.” “Sure.” “You’ve been to two places outside of the market proper now, correct?” I nodded. Nebula and now here. "How do you know that?" "Heard of someone going through with black, fathomless eyes when I was there a few days ago." He nodded towards me. "Given what we are going through, I assumed it to be you." "I must have just missed you there," I said. "Do you still hold the same fondness for the market proper? Or do you prefer your time to be spent out here with these people?” I tipped my head to the side. “Why do you ask?” “Call it curiosity. Nothing nefarious is with it. At heart, I am a purveyor of life. I love to know what makes a person tick. Given that you make this world tick, I wondered if you had a preference.” [[I think I prefer the Outlands so far]] [[Market proper is my home]] [[It seems a bit like choosing your favorite child]] “Side effect, I suppose.” “Side effect?” I shrugged. “I’m not going to pretend to understand what happened. I don’t even know if I want to know. Sometimes, it feels like if I piece together a lead, it drives me a little more insane. So, for right now, I’m going with side effect. If I’m proven wrong later, well, then we at least have a little bit of power on our side.” We spent the next couple of hours wandering through the vendors, trying to find lights that were similar to the ones that Willatrue had run away with. Most of the vendors at the entrance were all lantern sellers. Cobbling together some of the lanterns that had fallen and making them into pretty representations of what they actually were. They put something inside though. A flickering light they had conjured. Most booths boast a full day of life before needing to have a tech change. They weren’t like the lanterns back home. The further in we went, the more homes I saw. The little vendors that were out front were a tourist gimmick while inside the city, people were walking back and forth, some building new structures, others carrying water and food. A thriving community was here, pushed back from the reflective surfaces of all the glass and out of the way of any of the falling lost lanterns above. I looked upwards with a sigh. The night left me discouraged. I was in the correct place, but only by feeling. No one seemed surprised that someone from the market proper was here but no one seemed concerned about the lights there as well. Most that wandered the streets were travelers. Some from other Outland towns. Some from the market itself. Apparently, the idea that the Outlands was incredibly sequestered, did not hold true. “Well, we can try again in the morning,” Deucalion was saying. He had gotten himself a steaming mug of something chalky smelling and was sipping on it. I had hoped to be on my way back by now but with nothing to show for our time, heading home felt like a failure. Not to mention, I didn’t particularly want to travel through the dark again. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> “We should find Herald. Get some accommodations,” I said. <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> “We should find Malcolm. Get some accommodations,” I said. <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> “We need to find some accommodations.”<</if>> Deucalion nodded. “I can take care of that for you.” He offered me the mug but I shook my head no. Motioning for him to have it. “Can I ask you a question, Night.” “Sure.” “You’ve been to two places outside of the market proper now, correct?” I nodded. Nebula and now here. "How do you know that?" "Heard of someone going through with black, fathomless eyes when I was there a few days ago." He nodded towards me. "Given what we are going through, I assumed it to be you." "I must have just missed you there," I said. "Do you still hold the same fondness for the market proper? Or do you prefer your time to be spent out here with these people?” I tipped my head to the side. “Why do you ask?” “Call it curiosity. Nothing nefarious is with it. At heart, I am a purveyor of life. I love to know what makes a person tick. Given that you make this world tick, I wondered if you had a preference.” [[I think I prefer the Outlands so far]] [[Market proper is my home]] [[It seems a bit like choosing your favorite child]] “I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” I said. Had that been me? I vaguely remembered everyone's words falling short but thought that was more for propriety's sake. “Seems to me that your abilities are making themselves known. Proximity to something out here perhaps? Or maybe just a sign that you are figuring yourself out.” It was worth looking into. The more control I could gain of the market again, the easier it would be to fix. We spent the next couple of hours wandering through the vendors, trying to find lights that were similar to the ones that Willatrue had run away with. Most of the vendors at the entrance were all lantern sellers. Cobbling together some of the lanterns that had fallen and making them into pretty representations of what they actually were. They put something inside though. A flickering light they had conjured. Most booths boast a full day of life before needing to have a tech change. They weren’t like the lanterns back home. The further in we went, the more homes I saw. The little vendors that were out front were a tourist gimmick while inside the city, people were walking back and forth, some building new structures, others carrying water and food. A thriving community was here, pushed back from the reflective surfaces of all the glass and out of the way of any of the falling lost lanterns above. I looked upwards with a sigh. The night left me discouraged. I was in the correct place, but only by feeling. No one seemed surprised that someone from the market proper was here but no one seemed concerned about the lights there as well. Most that wandered the streets were travelers. Some from other Outland towns. Some from the market itself. Apparently, the idea that the Outlands was incredibly sequestered, did not hold true. “Well, we can try again in the morning,” Deucalion was saying. He had gotten himself a steaming mug of something chalky smelling and was sipping on it. I had hoped to be on my way back by now but with nothing to show for our time, heading home felt like a failure. Not to mention, I didn’t particularly want to travel through the dark again. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> “We should find Herald. Get some accommodations,” I said. <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> “We should find Malcolm. Get some accommodations,” I said. <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> “We need to find some accommodations.”<</if>> Deucalion nodded. “I can take care of that for you.” He offered me the mug but I shook my head no. Motioning for him to have it. “Can I ask you a question, Night.” “Sure.” “You’ve been to two places outside of the market proper now, correct?” I nodded. Nebula and now here. "How do you know that?" "Heard of someone going through with black, fathomless eyes when I was there a few days ago." He nodded towards me. "Given what we are going through, I assumed it to be you." "I must have just missed you there," I said. "Do you still hold the same fondness for the market proper? Or do you prefer your time to be spent out here with these people?” I tipped my head to the side. “Why do you ask?” “Call it curiosity. Nothing nefarious is with it. At heart, I am a purveyor of life. I love to know what makes a person tick. Given that you make this world tick, I wondered if you had a preference.” [[I think I prefer the Outlands so far]] [[Market proper is my home]] [[It seems a bit like choosing your favorite child]] “I think I like the Outlands better, so far. There is resilience here. An ability to move on no matter the hardships presented. That’s far more noble to me. The people here are more real. And they deserve more than they’ve been given.” I couldn’t tell if Deucalion was impressed with my answer. If he agreed or disagreed. There was no change to his face and maybe he had been telling the truth. Maybe he simply was curious. But the answer had weight to it. <<if $power == "wind">> I could feel it with the way the wind swirled around me. <<elseif $power == "walls">> I could feel it with the way the the walls grew up around the city. <<elseif $power == "light">> I could feel it with the way the lanterns tried to sing.<</if>> Tipping his cap to me, he tapped his cane a few times on the dirt ground. “I will take care of those accommodations, shall I?” “Thank you, Deucalion. You’ve been incredibly helpful.” He winked at me. “Oh, you don’t know how helpful I can be.” Twirling the cane, he turned on his heel, walking away. It left me just sitting there. Thinking about the Night Market. The problems within it. The clear solution that laid outside of the market playing out in front of my eyes. The easy answer to the problems that were happening within the realm would have been the Velvet Guard. Rules and regulations revolved around them and had created such a hierarchy and divide within the market itself that power hungry individuals could don a velvet coat and create their own narrative within the communities. But that felt as if it were only the surface. The little bit of information that I was told and not what was lingering beneath the surface. It was so easy, however, to believe what was presented. It would have been so easy to be angry. To take my power and bring it down upon the wrong doings within my own world. To decide what was right and what was wrong and to turn away from the fact that even the good guys were villains in someone else's story. It all felt entirely too complicated. Exhausting. Confusing. But most of all, the only thing I kept thinking about was what if I made a mistake. What if I made a decision and it ended up hurting someone. Then was I any better than the ones I was vilifying. I felt like banging my head against the nearest wall. “Mistakes and intentions are two different things,” I murmured. A mistake was an action done once. Intention was when it was repeated over and over again with a clear dedication to an idea. “Well, don’t you look a tad bit different.” I opened my eyes, turning to stare at a slip of a man with far set eyes and tattooed scars all up his arms. “I’m sorry. Do I…?” “Ernest. My grandmama used to speak of you. Though I don’t suppose you’d remember her. She always used to say the market would come down in several iterations. You remember who you are?” he asked curiously. [[Who is your grandmother?]] [[I think you have the wrong person]] [[I remember parts of myself]] “The market proper will always be my home,” I told him. “It has its problems. There are more than a few flaws. But nothing is perfect. And that world embodies that emotion more than anything.” I couldn’t tell if Deucalion was impressed with my answer. If he agreed or disagreed. There was no change to his face and maybe he had been telling the truth. Maybe he simply was curious. But the answer had weight to it. <<if $power == "wind">> I could feel it with the way the wind swirled around me. <<elseif $power == "walls">> I could feel it with the way the the walls grew up around the city. <<elseif $power == "light">> I could feel it with the way the lanterns tried to sing.<</if>> Tipping his cap to me, he tapped his cane a few times on the dirt ground. “I will take care of those accommodations, shall I?” “Thank you, Deucalion. You’ve been incredibly helpful.” He winked at me. “Oh, you don’t know how helpful I can be.” Twirling the cane, he turned on his heel, walking away. It left me just sitting there. Thinking about the Night Market. The problems within it. The clear solution that laid outside of the market playing out in front of my eyes. The easy answer to the problems that were happening within the realm would have been the Velvet Guard. Rules and regulations revolved around them and had created such a hierarchy and divide within the market itself that power hungry individuals could don a velvet coat and create their own narrative within the communities. But that felt as if it were only the surface. The little bit of information that I was told and not what was lingering beneath the surface. It was so easy, however, to believe what was presented. It would have been so easy to be angry. To take my power and bring it down upon the wrong doings within my own world. To decide what was right and what was wrong and to turn away from the fact that even the good guys were villains in someone else's story. It all felt entirely too complicated. Exhausting. Confusing. But most of all, the only thing I kept thinking about was what if I made a mistake. What if I made a decision and it ended up hurting someone. Then was I any better than the ones I was vilifying. I felt like banging my head against the nearest wall. “Mistakes and intentions are two different things,” I murmured. A mistake was an action done once. Intention was when it was repeated over and over again with a clear dedication to an idea. “Well, don’t you look a tad bit different.” I opened my eyes, turning to stare at a slip of a man with far set eyes and tattooed scars all up his arms. “I’m sorry. Do I…?” “Ernest. My grandmama used to speak of you. Though I don’t suppose you’d remember her. She always used to say the market would come down in several iterations. You remember who you are?” he asked curiously. [[Who is your grandmother?]] [[I think you have the wrong person]] [[I remember parts of myself]] “Answering that feels a lot like choosing your favorite child,” I told him. “No matter what I say, it’s going to feel wrong.” Deucalion laughed. “Each area of the market has something you love. Something to offer. You see the value in all of it. Very diplomatic, Night. Very, very diplomatic.” “That’s me.” Tipping his cap to me, he tapped his cane a few times on the dirt ground. “I will take care of those accommodations, shall I?” “Thank you, Deucalion. You’ve been incredibly helpful.” He winked at me. “Oh, you don’t know how helpful I can be.” Twirling the cane, he turned on his heel, walking away. It left me just sitting there. Thinking about the Night Market. The problems within it. The clear solution that laid outside of the market playing out in front of my eyes. The easy answer to the problems that were happening within the realm would have been the Velvet Guard. Rules and regulations revolved around them and had created such a hierarchy and divide within the market itself that power hungry individuals could don a velvet coat and create their own narrative within the communities. But that felt as if it were only the surface. The little bit of information that I was told and not what was lingering beneath the surface. It was so easy, however, to believe what was presented. It would have been so easy to be angry. To take my power and bring it down upon the wrong doings within my own world. To decide what was right and what was wrong and to turn away from the fact that even the good guys were villains in someone else's story. It all felt entirely too complicated. Exhausting. Confusing. But most of all, the only thing I kept thinking about was what if I made a mistake. What if I made a decision and it ended up hurting someone. Then was I any better than the ones I was vilifying. I felt like banging my head against the nearest wall. “Mistakes and intentions are two different things,” I murmured. A mistake was an action done once. Intention was when it was repeated over and over again with a clear dedication to an idea. “Well, don’t you look a tad bit different.” I opened my eyes, turning to stare at a slip of a man with far set eyes and tattooed scars all up his arms. “I’m sorry. Do I…?” “Ernest. My grandmama used to speak of you. Though I don’t suppose you’d remember her. She always used to say the market would come down in several iterations. You remember who you are?” he asked curiously. [[Who is your grandmother?]] [[I think you have the wrong person]] [[I remember parts of myself]] “Who is your grandmother?” Warm quilts. So many warm quilts. Safety. The feeling of belonging. I stepped forward. “Who is your grandmother?” I asked again. “Are they still alive?” Errnest nodded. “Yup,” he said with a pop of his lips. “Got to come with me for more than that though. Don’t really want to spook the locals.” “Just tell me–” But he wasn’t listening. He turned, scurrying down the road far quicker than I thought he would have been able to. I struggled to keep up as he hopped over broken lanterns that were littering the streets, zoomed around the cleaners trying to repair the glass that had shattered on impact, and ducked under large awnings through tunnels made of literal lanterns. “Wait!” I called out. “You’re going too fast.” “Keep up keep up, Night Night said the light.” I burst through one of the old canvases that made up the market stall to be surrounded by reflective glass. The lanterns were so thick here that they made an entire building where families gathered behind sea glass doors and old bronze hinges. Looking ahead, I could just see Ernest disappear around a corner. I had to walk slower here, though. There was a reverence that was washing over me. A respect that consumed each breath. I could see through the windows and into the little houses. Smiling faces were encased inside as candles were lit and dinner was placed on the tables. Neighbors were leaning out windows to talk to others, exchanging pleasantries for the evening and inviting the less fortunate over for tea. There was a sense of community here within the broken lanterns. Like they were all here for each other, growing a family and keeping each other safe. Several people were outside their homes with baskets of shattered lanterns. The ones that had fallen from the skies and had broken beyond repair. They were patching up holes, slathering it with some sort of sandy grit that would harden to create an outer wall. “I finally get my own room!” A little boy was proclaiming, jumping up and down and tugging on his grandfather's chiton. “For now,” the grandfather laughed. “You’ll have to share when Aloy gets older.” “We don’t know how old he’ll be when he gets here,” the boy reasoned. “He might be a grown up and not need to share a room.” “True. We’ll just have to wait and see. Once the gates open again, we’ll try to find him. And then you won’t be a solo living within your own space.” “Don’t care. It’s mine. For now it’s all mine.” I couldn’t help but smile at the maniacal laugh. Or feel how my heart melted at the way the older man patted his grandson's head. This was what I had wanted the Night Market to be. A safe place for families to grow. To live. To be given a second chance. What had gone so wrong within the walls of the Night Proper? I caught up with Ernest at the end of the tunnel where he dropped a rope ladder down. It was made of a braided material that I did not recognize and felt icy beneath my hands. I climbed it, however, only just thinking of the fact that I had left the others behind. It felt too late to turn back now. And it wasn’t as if I felt unsafe. As I emerged from the homes below I pushed myself up, standing in a vaulted cavern. And there, in the center, was a burnt out lantern. It took up most of the cavern, the hexagonal sides of which nearly touched the sides of the cave. The blue and silver glass that had once shone brightly within was now nothing more than a dull patchwork of cobwebs. I knew without a doubt it had been the first lantern to go out. The first lantern to lose its voice. Lose track of time. It sat dull. Lonely. A forgotten voice within a world that was dying. A piece of me that had been cut off so long ago and left me to my numbness. I reached out, not quite touching it, watching as my hands shook. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. It said nothing back. How could it? The ancients had killed it. I knew that now. [[Chapter Seven]]“I think you have the wrong person,” I told him. It was a lie that didn’t roll off the lips quite right. But I felt off balance with someone recognizing me. And not me as in $name, but me as in my past selves that walked here. Had I looked like this before? I didn’t think so but there was something that Ernest saw that linked me to all the others. To War. To Loss. To a cold mind and an even colder decision. Despite the lie, he didn’t believe it for a moment. His lips curled and his teeth flashed pointed and black. “Right,” he drawled. “What are you doin’ here?” Ernest asked. “Come for the pilgrimage? I’m afraid they don’t do those anymore.” My stomach flipped. The pilgrimage. It was in Lucinda’s books. The sacred tradition of traveling to one of the ancient spots. “I’m a bit muddy on what the pilgrimage is supposed to look like.” “Oh, I can help ya with that. Come on.” He turned, scurrying down the road far quicker than I thought he would have been able to. I struggled to keep up as he hopped over broken lanterns that were littering the streets, zoomed around the cleaners trying to repair the glass that had shattered on impact, and ducked under large awnings through tunnels made of literal lanterns. “Wait!” I called out. “You’re going too fast.” “Keep up keep up, Night Night said the light.” I burst through one of the old canvases that made up the market stall to be surrounded by reflective glass. The lanterns were so thick here that they made an entire building where families gathered behind sea glass doors and old bronze hinges. Looking ahead, I could just see Ernest disappear around a corner. I had to walk slower here, though. There was a reverence that was washing over me. A respect that consumed each breath. I could see through the windows and into the little houses. Smiling faces were encased inside as candles were lit and dinner was placed on the tables. Neighbors were leaning out windows to talk to others, exchanging pleasantries for the evening and inviting the less fortunate over for tea. There was a sense of community here within the broken lanterns. Like they were all here for each other, growing a family and keeping each other safe. Several people were outside their homes with baskets of shattered lanterns. The ones that had fallen from the skies and had broken beyond repair. They were patching up holes, slathering it with some sort of sandy grit that would harden to create an outer wall. “I finally get my own room!” A little boy was proclaiming, jumping up and down and tugging on his grandfather's chiton. “For now,” the grandfather laughed. “You’ll have to share when Aloy gets older.” “We don’t know how old he’ll be when he gets here,” the boy reasoned. “He might be a grown up and not need to share a room.” “True. We’ll just have to wait and see. Once the gates open again, we’ll try to find him. And then you won’t be a solo living within your own space.” “Don’t care. It’s mine. For now it’s all mine.” I couldn’t help but smile at the maniacal laugh. Or feel how my heart melted at the way the older man patted his grandson's head. This was what I had wanted the Night Market to be. A safe place for families to grow. To live. To be given a second chance. What had gone so wrong within the walls of the Night Proper? I caught up with Ernest at the end of the tunnel where he dropped a rope ladder down. It was made of a braided material that I did not recognize and felt icy beneath my hands. I climbed it, however, only just thinking of the fact that I had left the others behind. It felt too late to turn back now. And it wasn’t as if I felt unsafe. As I emerged from the homes below I pushed myself up, standing in a vaulted cavern. And there, in the center, was a burnt out lantern. It took up most of the cavern, the hexagonal sides of which nearly touched the sides of the cave. The blue and silver glass that had once shone brightly within was now nothing more than a dull patchwork of cobwebs. I knew without a doubt it had been the first lantern to go out. The first lantern to lose its voice. Lose track of time. It sat dull. Lonely. A forgotten voice within a world that was dying. A piece of me that had been cut off so long ago and left me to my numbness. I reached out, not quite touching it, watching as my hands shook. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. It said nothing back. How could it? The ancients had killed it. I knew that now. [[Chapter Seven]]“Parts of me,” I told him. The words slipped out automatically, leaving me stunned. I only knew parts of me. Of course this was something I already had figured out but saying it outloud, acknowledging it all, felt like an omission that I was supposed to have kept quiet. “What are you doin’ here?” Ernest asked. “Come for the pilgrimage? I’m afraid they don’t do those anymore.” My stomach flipped. The pilgrimage. It was in Lucinda’s books. The sacred tradition of traveling to one of the ancient spots. “I’m a bit muddy on what the pilgrimage is supposed to look like.” “Oh, I can help ya with that. Come on.” He turned, scurrying down the road far quicker than I thought he would have been able to. I struggled to keep up as he hopped over broken lanterns that were littering the streets, zoomed around the cleaners trying to repair the glass that had shattered on impact, and ducked under large awnings through tunnels made of literal lanterns. “Wait!” I called out. “You’re going too fast.” “Keep up keep up, Night Night said the light.” I burst through one of the old canvases that made up the market stall to be surrounded by reflective glass. The lanterns were so thick here that they made an entire building where families gathered behind sea glass doors and old bronze hinges. Looking ahead, I could just see Ernest disappear around a corner. I had to walk slower here, though. There was a reverence that was washing over me. A respect that consumed each breath. I could see through the windows and into the little houses. Smiling faces were encased inside as candles were lit and dinner was placed on the tables. Neighbors were leaning out windows to talk to others, exchanging pleasantries for the evening and inviting the less fortunate over for tea. There was a sense of community here within the broken lanterns. Like they were all here for each other, growing a family and keeping each other safe. Several people were outside their homes with baskets of shattered lanterns. The ones that had fallen from the skies and had broken beyond repair. They were patching up holes, slathering it with some sort of sandy grit that would harden to create an outer wall. “I finally get my own room!” A little boy was proclaiming, jumping up and down and tugging on his grandfather's chiton. “For now,” the grandfather laughed. “You’ll have to share when Aloy gets older.” “We don’t know how old he’ll be when he gets here,” the boy reasoned. “He might be a grown up and not need to share a room.” “True. We’ll just have to wait and see. Once the gates open again, we’ll try to find him. And then you won’t be a solo living within your own space.” “Don’t care. It’s mine. For now it’s all mine.” I couldn’t help but smile at the maniacal laugh. Or feel how my heart melted at the way the older man patted his grandson's head. This was what I had wanted the Night Market to be. A safe place for families to grow. To live. To be given a second chance. What had gone so wrong within the walls of the Night Proper? I caught up with Ernest at the end of the tunnel where he dropped a rope ladder down. It was made of a braided material that I did not recognize and felt icy beneath my hands. I climbed it, however, only just thinking of the fact that I had left the others behind. It felt too late to turn back now. And it wasn’t as if I felt unsafe. As I emerged from the homes below I pushed myself up, standing in a vaulted cavern. And there, in the center, was a burnt out lantern. It took up most of the cavern, the hexagonal sides of which nearly touched the sides of the cave. The blue and silver glass that had once shone brightly within was now nothing more than a dull patchwork of cobwebs. I knew without a doubt it had been the first lantern to go out. The first lantern to lose its voice. Lose track of time. It sat dull. Lonely. A forgotten voice within a world that was dying. A piece of me that had been cut off so long ago and left me to my numbness. I reached out, not quite touching it, watching as my hands shook. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. It said nothing back. How could it? The ancients had killed it. I knew that now. [[Chapter Seven]]<<if $help == "reese">> The stench of vomit was what roused me. The acidity of it clung to the comforter that had haphazardly been thrown over me during the night. Peeling open my eyes I watched as Reese stood over Gabriel’s bed, settling him back down. New sheets had replaced the old ones and the wastebin had been removed. “I’m fine,” Gabriel was muttering. “Yeah? Say it to me again when I don’t have to wash puke off you.” Reese got him lying back before pulling a fresh knitted blanket up over his chest. The shadows had fallen over me just enough that I didn’t think they realized that I was awake. “Here’s how this is goin’ to go, Gabe.” Taking the chair, Reese twirled it around, stradling it so he could face his son. “You are stayin’ in this room until we can figure this damn grace thing out.” “There is nothing wrong with my grace.” “Shut the fuck up. We both know you have piss little of it left.” From the bed, Gabriel stirred, clearly irritated by his adoptive father. “And when your kind has none of it, you get real freaky. I’m not into just sitting by that one, got it?” "I am fine,” Gabriel nearly growled. The tension in the room snapped. I felt it tighten around my chest in a deep clench. “Really?” Reese’s voice was low and challenging. “You just enjoy murder now? New for you.” “It is not murder.” “Blood is on your hands, boy. Intentional blood. Don’t try and tell me what is and is not considered murder.” “Weren’t you the one who taught me that sometimes you do what you have to because of orders? You’re a soldier, Reese. Don’t pretend like you are above me in this.” He laughed lowly, tipping his chair dangerously on its legs. “You want the nightmares I live with? You really gunnin’ for that position?’ “Stop asking me a bunch of questions! I have no desire to do any of this with you. I’ll be leaving once morning comes.” [[Alert them of your presence]] [[Gabriel, you should listen to Reese]] [[You won’t be leaving]] <<set $chapsix to "reese">><</if>> <<if $help == "elias">> The room smelt of crisp cotton soaked in vomit. The pungent scent hit me as soon as I walked in, watching as Elias’s dolls rushed around the room, cleaning soiled sheets and towels. As I looked past them, I found Elias. And Gabriel. “How could you?” I didn’t have to ask what it was that Gabriel was accusing Elias of. Not with the way he was looking at the man. “You will understand one day.” It was strange to hear Elias’s voice the way it was. Clarity that had never been there before was suddenly wrapping around his words. And in return, Gabriel’s was fraught with fear and insecurity. “Will I? You think I will understand you taking your own life in such a silly manner? Is that something that most come to common conclusions about?” “You are a celestial,” Elias said softly. “You sacrifice yourself daily for strangers. Why is it so difficult to understand that I would do the same for you?” “Because I am not worthy!” I stepped into the room fully then, hearing the crack of his voice shoot across the walls, sending vibrations through the bright marble and creating small fissures within the stone. “You are worthy,” Elias was crying. “You are. The Knowing has a plan for you, son. We must believe that. You were not sent here to die.” Something in that snapped Gabriel’s gaze. The raw emotion that was there before died down to nothing more than a consolatory whisper. “No. Of course I was. I know that. I am here to purge the unclean from the market. I am simply angry that you are so careless with your own fate. Elias, I could have brought you home with me. I could have provided a space for you.” Elias smiled at him sadly. “That is no longer my place.” “It could be.” There was no use arguing with him. Elias had made up his mind and had already given Gabriel some of his grace. The last vestiges that kept him walking through this world. “We have some time before the madness takes hold of me. I would like to spend some of it with you while I can remember.” “Elias–” “Gabriel, for the first time, I am thinking clearly since Reese died. Just give me this.” “The madness has not even taken control of me,” Gabriel argued. “This was premature of you to do. You should have discussed it with me first.” “You are not listening to what I am asking of you, son.” Elias’s dying wishes were falling on deaf ears. [[Clear throat]] [[Listen to Elias]] [[The madness is here but we are working on it]] <<set $chapsix to "elias">> <</if>><<if $hazelkey == "true">>A shout from the living room woke me. It was cut short and faded into the empty silence of Malcolm’s apartment. I laid there, having tossed and turned most of the night in the bed Hazel had been in, fighting the urge to go to the Apothecary and demand for her back. It would have done nothing to develop trust between her and I, but there was the slightest possibility I could catch Lucinda in her lies. Maybe then it would build the case to Hazel that her mother was doing something. Because she had to be doing something. She just had to. There was a murmur that followed as I heard some shuffling in the living room. Standing, I walked out, pausing in the doorway. Milo was braced against the counter, his arms locked tight as he oriented himself. Malcolm was at his side with a glass of water, talking quietly. “Everything okay?” Sweat dripped from Milo’s forehead as he shakily reached for the water. Malcolm hovered close ready to catch him if he lost his grip. “He says he had a dream. Something about the market trying to open another door. I’m trying to figure out if it's real or not.” I frowned. “I thought I wasn’t about to do that anymore.” “You still fight me at times,” he whispered. Stepping the rest of the way into the room, I lowered myself onto one of the barstools. “You don’t look good.” “I never look good,” he said with a small grin. “It’s part of that wandering hobo aesthetic I like.” “Drink your water, Milo,” Malcolm intoned softly. Milo dutifully downed it in one go before slamming the glass back on the counter. He pushed his sweaty bangs from his eyes and just like that, began pacing the room. Though, I could see that his mind was still grappling. Trying to come to terms with an image that was still haunting him from sleep. “What do you want to do about Hazel?” he asked. “I get that she ran out of here but Malcolm was saying she was herself, yeah? Meaning, there’s got to be a spell. I was thinking of getting a nullifying amulet and seeing if we could crack through it just a bit more. Get another window into whatever illusion she’s got over herself and get some answers.” [[That’s too invasive. She’d hate that]] [[Anything is worth a shot right now]] [[Lucinda is going to see right through that]] <<elseif $hazelkey == "false">> Malcolm lived beneath the Night Market. Not far below the streets but at least one layer under where most no longer wandered. The tunnel that led to his house was located under a bridge and wound down to a nondescript door. The surroundings were wet. The mess slightly smelled. And I had to wonder if he had done all of this on purpose, or if the last ten years had truly changed his surroundings so much. Knocking on his door, I waited for a long moment before hearing the click of the lock. Malcolm opened the door, standing there with a concerned expression. He was dressed all in black, his feet bare. “Lamplight. Are you alright?” He was looking behind me, peering into the dark for whatever danger drove me here. “Fine,” I said. “I just had a question for you. Something happened last night and I thought that maybe you’d know more about it.” Stepping aside, he nodded. “Of course. Come in.” The moment I was inside his apartment, I spotted a familiar set of shoulders. Milo sat on the kitchen floor, looking tired and wrung out emotionally. [[Am I interrupting something?]] [[What happened?|Chapter Six What happened]] [[What is he doing here?]] <</if>>“$name?” When I came to, I was staring down at a table. The wood grains were done up in these small, swirled designs with a faint glint of shimmering green in them. I wondered if it was native to the wood itself or if the little swirls had been painted on the table. “$name?” My head snapped up. I was inside Kimber’s bakery. The lights were dim and the smell of bread was wafting into the main lobby from the dragonfire stove in the back. Kimber was standing near me, a small tray clutched between her hands. There was a simmering steel pot and a scone, freshly buttered, displayed there. “Long night?” she asked me. A long night didn’t do anything to describe the depths of exhaustion I was feeling now. On one side, the Warden of the market was losing his mind. He was murdering innocents for the sheer benefit of his own conscience. On the other side, a dear friend was being held hostage by her abusive mother. The one who should be dead. And to compound matters, her brother, the one person who should logically be capable of making her see reason, kept forgetting she even existed. <<if $milobreakup == "true">> And my ex was out there. There was no avoiding him or my past. There was simply just an understanding that our relationship was strictly business now. I had to wonder how complicated that would be. <<elseif $falsebreakup == "true">> And then there was the matter of my ex. My boyfriend? I didn’t know anymore. I needed to find him, however. Tell him I spoke out of anger. See if I actually wished to work something out with him. <</if>> Sighing, I stared at Kimber. “I didn’t realize that being alive was going to be so complicated.” She set the tray down and hopped up on the seat. “You and me both.” She actually sounded relieved that someone had said it before her. “I mean, come on. Breaks need to be given. This world is insanely dramatic and it survives on an amount of chaos that is just not healthy for the heart.” When her eyes grew wide, she began waving her hands around. “That’s not your fault off course! You didn’t do this! I am aggressively supportive of you.” I laughed a little, slumping back in my seat. “It’s alright, Kimber. I’m not offended. She slowly shoved the tray towards me like some sort of peace offering. I took it, even though there was nothing to be forgiven. “I did read your mail though,” she said with a bounce. “That was probably crossing a line but I was really curious and honestly I thought I was hallucinating since it was a pixie who was delivering it.” [[Do you often hallucinate pixies]] [[I would appreciate you not reading my mail]] [[Read away. Mail makes me anxious]] “Do you often hallucinate pixies?” I asked her. She buzzed her lips, shaking her entire body in a quick expulsion of energy. “I am pretty sure I was traumatized by them at some point. Maybe a previous life. Because I’m telling you, I see them //everywhere//. Who see’s pixies //everywhere//. I’ve literally had one hovering in front of my face before and Sawyer and Turner saw nothin’.” “Pixies are fae, though. Could they have masked themselves?” Kimber’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah, but why would they show themselves to me and not the boys? Doesn’t make a lot of sense if you ask me. There is far more reason to them doing something heinous in a past life and coming back to haunt me now that I’ve rid myself of the memory.” I wasn’t going to argue with that. And really, who could with such a firm belief. “What did my mail say?” I asked her. “Oh! It was from Belladonna Malady. She wants you to meet her and says you’ll be going to the Outlands today.” <<if $milobreakup == "true" or $falsebreakup == "true">> “I already knew that one,” I said with a sigh. I had gotten the first message while with Malcolm. I hadn’t brought myself to speak to Belladonna yet. Or to really do much of anything with the information.” “Why is she sending you another letter then? It sounded urgent. Is it because of the thing with Milo?” I looked at her. “How did you know about that?” “You projected your thoughts to me just now. Right there.” She gestured to a small area of the wall. I saw nothing there but Kimber looked as if she were watching a play. “I think you did the right thing,” she told me. “Not that my opinion matters. Do you want me to pack you lunch for the Outlands?” I blinked at her. Kimber was certainly something else. Keeping up with her in conversation was like riding a rollercoaster.<</if>> I rubbed a hand across my face. The Outlands. I had heard so much about them already, none of it good. But the lanterns were out there. I wondered if she had figured out a way to light them. Or at the very least, find them. “Did the letter give a time to meet her?” I asked. Kimber shoved the cup of tea towards me, motioning for me to drink. I took it, reveling in the warmth that spread through my system. “She said asap. So I’m sure you have some time.” I laughed a little at that. Kimber just had a way of making each moment not feel so dark. [[I don’t think it’s advisable to keep Belladonna waiting]] [[I’d actually like to finish breakfast]] [[Don’t you have customers in the Outlands?]] “I would appreciate you not reading my mail,” I told her. Not that I even really understood who would be sending me mail from here on but I did want to keep some modicum of privacy. “Right,” Kimber nodded, pulling a small book from her apron. Flipping it open, she scrawled my name on a short little list before snapping it shut. “You are on the list of no go’s,” she explained to me. My brows lifted high. “Do you read a lot of people’s mail?” “Nearly everyone that comes into the alley. But not yours. Not anymore. Once you are on the list, your mail is off limits,” she said with a little smile. I wasn’t sure what to make of that but I supposed she was respecting my wishes. There wasn’t much else I could hope for. “What did my mail say?” I asked her. “Oh! It was from Belladonna Malady. She wants you to meet her and says you’ll be going to the Outlands today.” <<if $milobreakup == "true" or $falsebreakup == "true">> “I already knew that one,” I said with a sigh. I had gotten the first message while with Malcolm. I hadn’t brought myself to speak to Belladonna yet. Or to really do much of anything with the information.” “Why is she sending you another letter then? It sounded urgent. Is it because of the thing with Milo?” I looked at her. “How did you know about that?” “You projected your thoughts to me just now. Right there.” She gestured to a small area of the wall. I saw nothing there but Kimber looked as if she were watching a play. “I think you did the right thing,” she told me. “Not that my opinion matters. Do you want me to pack you lunch for the Outlands?” I blinked at her. Kimber was certainly something else. Keeping up with her in conversation was like riding a rollercoaster.<</if>> I rubbed a hand across my face. The Outlands. I had heard so much about them already, none of it good. But the lanterns were out there. I wondered if she had figured out a way to light them. Or at the very least, find them. “Did the letter give a time to meet her?” I asked. Kimber shoved the cup of tea towards me, motioning for me to drink. I took it, reveling in the warmth that spread through my system. “She said asap. So I’m sure you have some time.” I laughed a little at that. Kimber just had a way of making each moment not feel so dark. [[I don’t think it’s advisable to keep Belladonna waiting]] [[I’d actually like to finish breakfast]] [[Don’t you have customers in the Outlands?]] “Read away,” I told her. “Mail makes me incredibly anxious.” “It does?” She scrambled closer to me, leaning in for a secret. “I love mail. Love letters between people. Secrets. Illicit affairs. It’s all so delicious. In fact, I have this tendency of stealing most of the mail within Artisan Alley. Not that we get much since there are just a few of us here but I am hoping one day this is a thriving little business arena and I can sit by the fire at night and read read read.” I laughed at the thought. The buildings ready for others to set up shop were prime for the taking. I just hoped that whoever moved in wasn’t offended by the odd little baker and her penchant for the written word. “What did my mail say?” I asked her. “Oh! It was from Belladonna Malady. She wants you to meet her and says you’ll be going to the Outlands today.” <<if $milobreakup == "true" or $falsebreakup == "true">> “I already knew that one,” I said with a sigh. I had gotten the first message while with Malcolm. I hadn’t brought myself to speak to Belladonna yet. Or to really do much of anything with the information.” “Why is she sending you another letter then? It sounded urgent. Is it because of the thing with Milo?” I looked at her. “How did you know about that?” “You projected your thoughts to me just now. Right there.” She gestured to a small area of the wall. I saw nothing there but Kimber looked as if she were watching a play. “I think you did the right thing,” she told me. “Not that my opinion matters. Do you want me to pack you lunch for the Outlands?” I blinked at her. Kimber was certainly something else. Keeping up with her in conversation was like riding a rollercoaster.<</if>> I rubbed a hand across my face. The Outlands. I had heard so much about them already, none of it good. But the lanterns were out there. I wondered if she had figured out a way to light them. Or at the very least, find them. “Did the letter give a time to meet her?” I asked. Kimber shoved the cup of tea towards me, motioning for me to drink. I took it, reveling in the warmth that spread through my system. “She said asap. So I’m sure you have some time.” I laughed a little at that. Kimber just had a way of making each moment not feel so dark. [[I don’t think it’s advisable to keep Belladonna waiting]] [[I’d actually like to finish breakfast]] [[Don’t you have customers in the Outlands?]] Standing, I sighed a little. One day, I would sit in this bakery for a full afternoon with nowhere to be and no pressing, world ending issues at hand. “I better go. I don’t think it is advisable to keep Belladonna waiting.” “Of course! I’ll send her some of those blood scones I make for the trouble.” “Kimber,” I laughed. “I don’t think she’s upset. And there’s no trouble that has occurred.” Kimber hopped to her feet, biting her lip. “Okay, I just really want to send her the blood scones because I’m hoping that she’ll like them enough to commission me to put them in her blood bars.” Kimber’s bakery was cleaned out nearly every day. The woman was a machine, stoking the dragon egg stove in the back and turning out confections that no average person could do. She didn’t need more orders. But ambition was stark in her eyes. “I’m sure she’ll love them,” I told Kimber. That, and I was going to need to put in a good word for her. Make sure the scones got to Belladonna personally if I had to. As Kimber wished me well, I stepped out into Artisan Alley. The green gas lamps were flickering hello, illuminated a long dragon tail slinking around the corner to go into the gem shop. I still hadn’t met this Malachi that lived there but I supposed it wouldn’t be long. All I needed to do was tell either Kimber or Sawyer that we should have a block party so everyone could get to know each other and he would be forced out. Turner would most likely curse himself hoarse in a corner. Turning out of the alley and into darkness, I tried to cast it all aside, however. Because as desirable as that might be, there was more at stake for the time being. The Outlands were waiting [[Next|Gabriel/Platonic Outlands]]“I think I’d actually like to finish my breakfast,” I told her. I bit into the scone, sighing at the flakiness on my tongue. At this rate, I wasn’t going to bother to learn how to cook. Not when the people in my life could obviously do it so much better. “Your table is interesting, by the way. I was looking at it this morning.” Kimber smiled broadly. “Thank you. It’s imported.” “Imported? From another district?” “Nope. Direct from the fae lands,” she said proudly. “At least the material was. And then this little cobbler down in the Silk Woods put these together for me. The flecks of green you see is fae magic, actually. When Richie was in here last he confirmed that it is absolutely magic but the Velvet Guard can’t actually do anything about it because it is innate to the wood itself.” She grinned, kicking her feet back and forth. “I adore Richie.” I raised a brow to her. “What kind of adore?” It was adorable the way her cheeks pinkened. “Oh, nothing like that. He’s just a nice man. He comes here to get a cookie from me every day though he never finishes it. Silly billy.” I laughed a little. “Kimber, he’s not coming for the cookie. He’s coming here to see you.” She nearly fell off her seat at the knowledge, scrambling to keep herself upright. “And out you go. Can’t get Belladonna Malady waiting!” She was practically pushing me out of my chair, her cheeks bright red now, made all the worse by the fact that I was laughing loudly “Shoo! Shoo! And come back in one piece!” Before I knew it, I was out the door and into Artisan Alley. Kimber was literally shuttering the windows, her eyes wild with embarrassment. I waved her goodbye as she peeked through the crack in the door. “Do you need any food?” she mumbled through the mail slot. “No,” I told her. “But I’m sure Richie will be by for some.” The mail slot slammed shut and a shriek was let out from her. I was almost certain she was hiding in the kitchen now. This did two things for me. One, it gave me something to keep my eye on. I would have to see what Richie thought about our Artisan Alley baker. And two, I had no more excuses. I would need to go meet Belladonna. [[Next|Gabriel/Platonic Outlands]]“Don’t you have customers in the Outlands?” I had noticed a few giants peering in through the oversized window through the back. It was not unheard of for them to come and ask for a scone or two. “Some of the best tippers I have are out there,” she claimed. “And they are such family oriented folks. I just adore when I get a little ding to say they are here.” “The Velvet Guard would have us all believe that they’re monsters.” She leaned in with a small smile. “And that is why the Velvet Guard is not here. No one gets to come in here and pass judgment on others. No one.” Her eyes flashed a verdant green, like little spring blooms of fern and moss dancing across her gaze. It was gone as quickly as it came before she leaned back in her seat. “Except for Richie. I do adore him.” I raised a brow to her. “What kind of adore?” It was adorable the way her cheeks pinkened. “Oh, nothing like that. He’s just a nice man. He comes here to get a cookie from me every day though he never finishes it. Silly billy.” I laughed a little. “Kimber, he’s not coming for the cookie. He’s coming here to see you.” She nearly fell off her seat at the knowledge, scrambling to keep herself upright. “And out you go. Can’t get Belladonna Malady waiting!” She was practically pushing me out of my chair, her cheeks bright red now, made all the worse by the fact that I was laughing loudly “Shoo! Shoo! And come back in one piece!” Before I knew it, I was out the door and into Artisan Alley. Kimber was literally shuttering the windows, her eyes wild with embarrassment. I waved her goodbye as she peeked through the crack in the door. “Do you need any food?” she mumbled through the mail slot. “No,” I told her. “But I’m sure Richie will be by for some.” The mail slot slammed shut and a shriek was let out from her. I was almost certain she was hiding in the kitchen now. This did two things for me. One, it gave me something to keep my eye on. I would have to see what Richie thought about our Artisan Alley baker. And two, I had no more excuses. I would need to go meet Belladonna. [[Next|Gabriel/Platonic Outlands]]““I’m not going to judge you,” I told him quickly. “We need to use every resource we have.” And I trusted Malcolm. If he felt like he could control Lucinda’s magic, I would believe him. Given that he was her son, there was bound to be some of her abilities that had made their way to him. It was a conversation I had always wanted to have but never felt was appropriate, given how much he hated his mother. Shaking his head, Malcolm wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving behind a smear of dirt. “No. It’s not… I don’t have her magic. I never have.” I frowned as I looked down at the sigil. It looked as if it had been burned into the dirt. “Explain,” I told him. I grew up with her trying to teach me magic,” he told me quickly, eyes still darting into the shadows. “It’s within the female blood line so she just assumed I had it. I know every ancient sigil. I know how to draw intricate incantations and curses. I can create from memory alone the entirety of a month-long ritual. I poured over those books when I was a child. I included them into my art. But…” he shrugged, arms out helplessly. “The magic never came,” I said with realization. It was through the female line. Malcolm had never been that in his heart. “When I was a Gatekeeper, I could get these spells to work,” he explained. “Suddenly, all those years of study and practice, actually meant something. When that beast came charging towards us, towards //you// I thought that maybe I could call on some of that magic. That I might still have some left in me.” He looked down at his hands, wiggling his fingers back and forth. “But I’m back to being nothing. Just some sort of clumsy fighter with an inelegance to my abilities.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[You are not nothing to me]]<</if>> [[The knowledge you have is impressive]] [[I don’t want you putting yourself at risk]] “You cannot possibly think this is a good idea,” I hissed. With my own hand, I broke the line of the sigil, erasing it from our sight. Though, it still felt as if it were leaving a mark on our world. “Nothing good comes from Lucinda,” I told him. “Nothing.” “Don’t you think I know that?” he snapped. “Lamplight, I have been dealing with her particular brand of cruelty from the day I was born. You do not need to tell me this. I am not brainwashed like Hazel.” “Then what is this?” I asked, gesturing to the incomplete rune. “I grew up with her trying to teach me magic,” he told me quickly, eyes still darting into the shadows. “It’s within the female blood line so she just assumed I had it. I know every ancient sigil. I know how to draw intricate incantations and curses. I can create from memory alone the entirety of a month-long ritual. I poured over those books when I was a child. I included them into my art. But…” he shrugged, arms out helplessly. “The magic never came,” I said with realization. It was through the female line. Malcolm had never been that in his heart. “When I was a Gatekeeper, I could get these spells to work,” he explained. “Suddenly, all those years of study and practice, actually meant something. When that beast came charging towards us, towards //you// I thought that maybe I could call on some of that magic. That I might still have some left in me.” He looked down at his hands, wiggling his fingers back and forth. “But I’m back to being nothing. Just some sort of clumsy fighter with an inelegance to my abilities.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[You are not nothing to me]]<</if>> [[The knowledge you have is impressive]] [[I don’t want you putting yourself at risk]] “Please tell me that this is you panicking. You fell into a bad habit in a moment of terror.” I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because, as we had already learned, nothing good came from Lucinda’s magic. But I recognized the work. The scrolling loops. It looked so much like her scratches into the books and Malcolm was her son. “Lamplight,” he said slowly. “It’s not my mom's. It may have started that way but nothing I do is derived from her.” I took a deep breath. “Are you hurt?” I asked, shoving aside the initial fear that I had felt over the association with Lucinda. “I’m bruised,” he said. “But not hurt. The thing ran off into the dark or something. I don’t actually know.” “Did that do anything to it?” I motioned to the sigil. “No,” he told me. “It might as well be a children's drawing at this point.” That oddly made me feel a little better. Lucinda already had one child under her control. I knew she wouldn’t hesitate at bringing her oldest into the fold. “Explain this all to me,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. I knew Malcolm. There was an explanation to this. “I grew up with her trying to teach me magic,” he told me quickly, eyes still darting into the shadows. “It’s within the female blood line so she just assumed I had it. I know every ancient sigil. I know how to draw intricate incantations and curses. I can create from memory alone the entirety of a month-long ritual. I poured over those books when I was a child. I included them into my art. But…” he shrugged, arms out helplessly. “The magic never came,” I said with realization. It was through the female line. Malcolm had never been that in his heart. “When I was a Gatekeeper, I could get these spells to work,” he explained. “Suddenly, all those years of study and practice, actually meant something. When that beast came charging towards us, towards //you// I thought that maybe I could call on some of that magic. That I might still have some left in me.” He looked down at his hands, wiggling his fingers back and forth. “But I’m back to being nothing. Just some sort of clumsy fighter with an inelegance to my abilities.” <<if $hazelro == "false">>[[You are not nothing to me]]<</if>> [[The knowledge you have is impressive]] [[I don’t want you putting yourself at risk]] “You are not nothing to me.” I said it so quickly that I hadn’t given myself time to even think about the implication of the words. Yet, I regretted none of them. Because it was true. To me, Malcolm was the light. He was the one who grounded me. Who made me feel alive. There was a certain air about him that drew me in each time I watched him come walking down the alley paths. Even when I was nothing more than a semiconscious light, existing for others and not for myself, there had still been him. There had always been him. He took a step forward, the gravity of his gaze pressing down on me. Consuming me. “You have no idea how long I’ve hoped to hear you say that,” he whispered. A throat cleared a few feet away as Deucalion came hobbling forward, his staff now back in his hand. “We do need to get going,” he said. There was paint all over his clothes and I made a mental note to look into that further. For now, I was afraid to speak, worried about what else was close by. Malcolm nodded, going over to Deucalion and giving him a once over. “Do you need help walking?” he asked. “No. No. I may wear a skirt but my manhood could not take such a thing.” Malcolm snorted. “I doubt that.” This time, we huddled closer together as we walked, the three of us with our eyes peeled wide, jumping at the sound of a skittering rock or a hiss in the night. <<if $power == "wind">> “Lamplight,” Malcolm started softly. “Did I imagine it back there or is there a creature sized indent to the sands out there. Almost like something sunk beneath the earth?” <<elseif $power == "walls">>“Did I imagine it back there or is there giant box where that creature attacked us. One made of the Night Market walls?” <<elseif $power == "light">>“Did I imagine it back there or is there strange amount of darkness surrounding the area that the creature was ” <</if>> I swallowed thickly. “You didn’t imagine it.” “That was you?” For a moment, I nearly said no. Denying the very core of myself as I tried to shove away the oddity of this excursion. Because if I was able to take down a creature such as that, then where had my powers been to all the other villains I had encountered. Where had they been when Caliban was crying and begging to not be returned to Odin. When the Deep nearly swallowed me. When Taliesin pulled his puppet strings and Milo exited stage right. Where was it all then when I needed it? I felt tired, my feet encased in concrete as I continued to trudge on. “That was me,” I told him. Malcolm didn’t say anything more. Perhaps he knew that it wasn’t the time. Or maybe he heard something in the dark. I couldn’t help but appreciate the man's penchant for tact. [[Why are my powers manifesting here?]] [[Maybe it was just a fluke]] [[What are the repercussions of using magic?]] “The knowledge you have is impressive. Do not sell yourself short on that. The fact that you can recall spells without looking at any of the books is an ability that not most have.” “Without magic, it is a useless ability.” His voice didn’t sound particularly defeated. Just a simple kind of acceptance that he had probably come to terms with long ago. It didn’t make it right. “And who told you that?” I asked. “Lucinda?” When he didn’t say anything, I knew it to be true. “Ever think that she may have just told you that because she’s scared? Let’s face it, Malcolm. Someone knowing dangerous and dark spells like that and able to recall them with clarity? That’s not the kind of person she wants against her.” “Lamplight, if there is no magic to power it, it doesn’t matter what I know.” “But if you know people with magic, all you have to do is set up the spell and have them power it for you.” His head whipped to mine and for the first time in a long while, I felt nearly giddy. Like the two of us had stumbled upon something precious. We spoke no more of it though. It was our secret. And not even the winds were allowed to be privy to our thoughts. A throat cleared a few feet away as Deucalion came hobbling forward, his staff now back in his hand. “We do need to get going,” he said. There was paint all over his clothes and I made a mental note to look into that further. For now, I was afraid to speak, worried about what else was close by. Malcolm nodded, going over to Deucalion and giving him a once over. “Do you need help walking?” he asked. “No. No. I may wear a skirt but my manhood could not take such a thing.” Malcolm snorted. “I doubt that.” This time, we huddled closer together as we walked, the three of us with our eyes peeled wide, jumping at the sound of a skittering rock or a hiss in the night. <<if $power == "wind">> “Lamplight,” Malcolm started softly. “Did I imagine it back there or is there a creature sized indent to the sands out there. Almost like something sunk beneath the earth?” <<elseif $power == "walls">>“Did I imagine it back there or is there giant box where that creature attacked us. One made of the Night Market walls?” <<elseif $power == "light">>“Did I imagine it back there or is there strange amount of darkness surrounding the area that the creature was ” <</if>> I swallowed thickly. “You didn’t imagine it.” “That was you?” For a moment, I nearly said no. Denying the very core of myself as I tried to shove away the oddity of this excursion. Because if I was able to take down a creature such as that, then where had my powers been to all the other villains I had encountered. Where had they been when Caliban was crying and begging to not be returned to Odin. When the Deep nearly swallowed me. When Taliesin pulled his puppet strings and Milo exited stage right. Where was it all then when I needed it? I felt tired, my feet encased in concrete as I continued to trudge on. “That was me,” I told him. Malcolm didn’t say anything more. Perhaps he knew that it wasn’t the time. Or maybe he heard something in the dark. I couldn’t help but appreciate the man's penchant for tact. [[Why are my powers manifesting here?]] [[Maybe it was just a fluke]] [[What are the repercussions of using magic?]] “I do not want you putting yourself at risk,” I told him firmly. “I know that not having your abilities is wearing on you. Especially seeing the way that Milo mismanages them. But you cannot put yourself in harm's way.” Standing, he closed his eyes, counting internally. For Malcolm to sit back and not fight, was an oddity. It went against everything in him. I knew I was asking a lot of him but I was not willing to let that magic consume him or anyone else that I cared about. If he didn’t have a handle on it, then it needed to be shelved. “We will talk later on it,” he said after a slow release of breath. “Because I do think you are right. I cannot put myself at risk. It will help nothing but my ego. But, I also need to be better prepared so I can help you.” “That’s not your responsibility,” I told him. When his eyes met mine, I felt a spark jolt through me. A promise that I couldn’t ignore. “Yes, it is.” The magic that he had intended to use had to go somewhere and tonight, it threaded through his words, strengthening his bond in my life. A throat cleared a few feet away as Deucalion came hobbling forward, his staff now back in his hand. “We do need to get going,” he said. There was paint all over his clothes and I made a mental note to look into that further. For now, I was afraid to speak, worried about what else was close by. Malcolm nodded, going over to Deucalion and giving him a once over. “Do you need help walking?” he asked. “No. No. I may wear a skirt but my manhood could not take such a thing.” Malcolm snorted. “I doubt that.” This time, we huddled closer together as we walked, the three of us with our eyes peeled wide, jumping at the sound of a skittering rock or a hiss in the night. <<if $power == "wind">> “Lamplight,” Malcolm started softly. “Did I imagine it back there or is there a creature sized indent to the sands out there. Almost like something sunk beneath the earth?” <<elseif $power == "walls">>“Did I imagine it back there or is there giant box where that creature attacked us. One made of the Night Market walls?” <<elseif $power == "light">>“Did I imagine it back there or is there strange amount of darkness surrounding the area that the creature was ” <</if>> I swallowed thickly. “You didn’t imagine it.” “That was you?” For a moment, I nearly said no. Denying the very core of myself as I tried to shove away the oddity of this excursion. Because if I was able to take down a creature such as that, then where had my powers been to all the other villains I had encountered. Where had they been when Caliban was crying and begging to not be returned to Odin. When the Deep nearly swallowed me. When Taliesin pulled his puppet strings and Milo exited stage right. Where was it all then when I needed it? I felt tired, my feet encased in concrete as I continued to trudge on. “That was me,” I told him. Malcolm didn’t say anything more. Perhaps he knew that it wasn’t the time. Or maybe he heard something in the dark. I couldn’t help but appreciate the man's penchant for tact. [[Why are my powers manifesting here?]] [[Maybe it was just a fluke]] [[What are the repercussions of using magic?]] “Why are my powers manifesting here?” I asked in frustration. We were in the middle of nowhere. Away from the beauty that was the world I had tried so hard to protect. The one I had arguably created. So why, out here in the dark, did I have the strongest display of my abilities yet? “Have you tried much back in the market?” Malcolm asked. “It’s appeared a few times. Here and there. But no, I haven’t actively sat down and tried to do things. Mainly because I don’t know what //things// I can do.” “When we get back, would you like to work on it all with me?” he asked. Arguably, Malcolm was the one who knew me best other than Pen. But there was no telling where Death had run to as of late. Malcolm was at least my constant. “I’d like that,” I told him. We walked for what felt like hours. Occasionally, I looked towards Malcolm or Deucalion, trying to gauge what they were thinking. Feeling. If this place was as desolate as it looked. And bit by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]]“Maybe it was just a fluke,” I told him. “I’ve had a few of those since coming back but none of them have any rhyme or reason to when they appear.” Malcolm tipped his head to the side, thinking about that for a moment. “It could be the emotional state you are in. Something that only comes out unconsciously when you are in a moment of panic.” “That’s not helpful.” “But it makes sense.” He ducked his head to catch my attention. “We’ll figure it out,” he told me. “But don’t think of this as a fluke. The world isn’t an accident so I find it hard to believe that the things you can do are such either.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t so much that I didn’t agree with him. But that I was afraid to hope for anything more. We walked for what felt like hours. Occasionally, I looked towards Malcolm or Deucalion, trying to gauge what they were thinking. Feeling. If this place was as desolate as it looked. And bit by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]]“What are the repercussions of using magic?” I asked as we followed Deucalion. “Am I going to feel fatigued now? Be really hungry? Start having spots?” I tried to laugh it off but I saw the way it was blackening Hazel’s hands. Her fingers no longer had an ink smudged stain to them but instead looked as if they had been charred. “As long as its not dark magic, you should be fine.” “How does someone determine what dark magic is?” I doubted most people that used “dark magic” actually thought of it as such. And even the darkest of spells could do wonderful things. “I don’t actually know how to explain it,” Malcolm said. “There’s not a lot of research that has gone into it yet. But I am going to assume it is the intention from it. Or it's the price you pay for such power. I am willing to bet that people with so-called ‘light magic’ and boy do I hate that term, probably also have some repercussions. They just aren’t telling anyone because they don’t wish for their actions to be tainted by public perception.” In front of us, Deucalion laughed, looking over his shoulder. “Oh, that is spot on,” he told Malcolm. “People who claim the mantle of good very rarely are. It’s the non-braggy sorts that actually are virtuous. Though, I did have a lover once who did the most wonderful things with his magic. Saved children from burning buildings and such. Then he would take out a full page in our local newspaper, explaining how wonderful he was.” Deucalion sighed wistfully. “To each their own, I suppose.” We walked for what felt like hours. Occasionally, I looked towards Malcolm or Deucalion, trying to gauge what they were thinking. Feeling. If this place was as desolate as it looked. And bit by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] “That thing tore into you,” I told him. “I have seen wounds before and yours looked to be on the worse side.” His entire abdomen had been shredded. Flaps of skin had rustled in the night like paper. And now, it was nothing. Deucalion fingered a hole in his corset before looking down at his skirt. “I just bought these, you know. Cost a pretty little penny. Confused a very old, traditional, off worlder too when I identified as a man but wore, as he claimed “womanly attributes”.” He laughed at the recollection. “Quite the compliment, really.” “You didn’t answer my question,” I reasoned. Deucalion smiled, breathing the night air deeply. “I didn’t.” We began walking once more, towards a city that was hidden somewhere on the horizon. “That was quite the display of power you had,” Deucalion mentioned. “And by the shock on your face, I would wager that it is also not normal?” I licked my lips. I wasn’t sure what exactly was normal for me. “I don’t think it was.” “How do your powers translate here? In this body that is?” Again, I had that sinking sensation. A part of me was missing. It was information I should have easily called forth and yet there was nothing. “I see,” he said. “My apologies for making you uncomfortable. In return, you may ask me anything you desire? I have a very embarrassing story about a scar if you would like to hear it.” [[Tell me the story about the scar]] [[Where are you from?]] [[What does Belladonna actually have on you]] “Your wounds looked odd,” I told him. “That didn’t look like blood.” “What does blood normally look like if not a wet and sticky fluid that emerges from your body.” He winked at me, his smile teasing. The joke rolled off his tongue in such a way that I was certain he had said it before. “You would be correct, however. It was not blood.” “What was it?” There had been such beautiful colors attached to it. Vibrant reds and blues. Yellows and hints of orange. I had never seen anything quite like it. “Another time, perhaps.” And just like that, he shut the conversation down, expertly navigating to something new. “That was quite the display of power you had,” Deucalion mentioned. “And by the shock on your face, I would wager that it is also not normal?” I licked my lips. I wasn’t sure what exactly was normal for me. “I don’t think it was.” “How do your powers translate here? In this body that is?” Again, I had that sinking sensation. A part of me was missing. It was information I should have easily called forth and yet there was nothing. “I see,” he said. “My apologies for making you uncomfortable. In return, you may ask me anything you desire? I have a very embarrassing story about a scar if you would like to hear it.” [[Tell me the story about the scar]] [[Where are you from?]] [[What does Belladonna actually have on you]] “Why did it attack?” I asked. “It wasn’t like we just stumbled across it. You said it was hunting us.” Deucalion nodded. “There is something not quite right out here. It isn’t as if the creatures that roam have ever been incredibly tolerant of ones in their territory, but to be stalked was a new venture for me. Now, don’t get me wrong. The Outlands are incredibly dangerous. More so than anywhere else in the market, I would argue, but your gut feeling is right. Why indeed did it attack? There was something that was a bit off about it.” We pondered that as we began journeying towards the city once more. The two of us walked a bit closer, the light from his staff not looking as bright as it possibly once had. “That was quite the display of power you had,” Deucalion mentioned. “And by the shock on your face, I would wager that it is also not normal?” I licked my lips. I wasn’t sure what exactly was normal for me. “I don’t think it was.” “How do your powers translate here? In this body that is?” Again, I had that sinking sensation. A part of me was missing. It was information I should have easily called forth and yet there was nothing. “I see,” he said. “My apologies for making you uncomfortable. In return, you may ask me anything you desire? I have a very embarrassing story about a scar if you would like to hear it.” [[Tell me the story about the scar]] [[Where are you from?]] [[What does Belladonna actually have on you]] “Tell me the story about the scar,” I asked immediately. His laughter was wild and raucous and he had to shove a fist in his mouth to keep from attracting any more beasts. “Well, well, well, you little minx. I am so glad you asked.” Lifting his skirt up high, I had to avert my eyes unless I wanted to get a full glimpse of what was between his legs. He tucked the fabric around him though, showing me a long white scar against his inner thigh. It was shaped like a pair of lips. “I was courting a duchess,” he said. “Beautiful woman with mahogany skin that smelled like strawberries. Without going into details, we had an affair that they will write about for ages. I was her muse and she was my moon beam.” “But it went bad?” “Not instantly. In fact, for a spell, we were the belle of the ball. The two of us attended every party. Every event and soiree. We made a striking pair, as I am sure you have guessed.” He flipped hair he didn’t have, behind his shoulders. “But, alas, she did have a wife. And that wife did not take kindly to me bedding the duchess.” “So she stabbed you.” “First she enchanted herself,” Deucalion said. “And then she seduced me. I am a weak, weak man when it comes to strong women and so I went without a single thought. But just as she was about to go down on me, her lips changed. I at first thought it was something kinky and was all for it but then I realized she had changed her lips into a piranha’s lips and was about to snap my unmentionables off.” I stared at him with wide eyes, feeling horrified at the image that was conjured. Deucalion nodded his head, eyes reflecting the same horror. “How did you get out of it?” “At the last minute, I read her a poem that the duchess had composed about their love. She was so overcome that she let me go, but not without giving me a biting kiss right on my thigh. And that was that. My wound that has never healed and the one I will carry with pride always.” I raised my eyes suspiciously at him. “That’s not true.” “I swear on my mothers grave,” he said. But a sly smile reached his lips. “I mean, the poem from the duchess wasn’t true. They truly hated each other and that woman wouldn’t have written a kind thing about her wife if her life was at stake, but I am very good at improvising.” I laughed loudly at that before clapping a hand over myself to keep the beasts at bay. In the distance was another howl. One that tingled up my spine. “Maybe we should stay silent until we reach the city,” I said, amusement still lighting across my eyes. “No fun,” Deucalion pouted. But he was walking just a bit quicker than he had before. We walked for what felt like hours. Our conversation had died and the two of us set our sights ahead, willing something to appear over the horizon. Lucinda's grimoire was still safe in my pack and felt like a target with each step I took. But, it by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] “Where are you from?” I asked. While he dressed like one born in the Night Market, his accent alone gave him away to a different world. Perhaps a different time. “I don’t quite remember anymore,” he told me honestly. “I’m what they call a world walker. Branch walker. Me, I used doors as my mode of transport so I guess a door walker. But, I was hopping from world to world when I settled on this one. That was some odd years ago now.” “Why here?” Up until now, I had only met the people that I had brought through. The ones I had tried to save from a dying world. Deucalion was grinning as he twirled, his skirt swishing around his legs. “Because, this world has immunity. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but there are some very bad people after me and the doors will not let them in. Or perhaps they just haven’t figured out I’m here. Either way, why would I leave the first place I have been able to walk around safely?” It was a different protection this time. One that kept the ones out who wanted to hurt him. It was a happier story than the worlds that had burned and fallen to dust. “Who is after you?” I asked. Deucalion waved me off. “Can’t even remember their names now. Come along.” We walked for what felt like hours. Our conversation had died and the two of us set our sights ahead, willing something to appear over the horizon. Lucinda's grimoire was still safe in my pack and felt like a target with each step I took. But, it by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] “What does Belladonna actually have on you?” I asked him. “Why would you assume this mission is blackmail?” “Because, you do not seem like you are in need of money. You have stated several times that you come out here to deliver items and in the same breath you say this place is dangerous. Now, knowing Belladonna, she could demand or hire anyone she wanted to take me out here but she chose you specifically and you said yes, despite not being scared of her. Why?” “This all feels like a very convoluted plot of blackmail,” he teased. “Which, you would be absolutely correct in assuming.” I knew it. Individuals like Deucalion didn’t take jobs for anything less than the cost of a year's wage and they certainly did not do so with so little notice. “I am the best of the best when it comes to finding the cities out here,” Deucalion conceded. “Your Belladonna knew this and took no chances. So, she found out who I was running from and she threatened to send them a little message about my whereabouts.” “How did she even know you were running from someone?” He grinned. “Because everyone is running from something.” With a deep sigh, he tapped his cane again, the purple light flooding bright like a glowstick. “I hold no animosity towards her for it. I thought it was quite clever. There was no way I could refuse. And before you ask, no. I will not be telling you why I am running or if I am a good or bad man. I simply am your happy tour guide into the dark.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “That’s good enough for me,” I told him. Because the last thing I was going to do was press a man in the middle of nowhere. A man, who I suspected, had luck on his side. We walked for what felt like hours. Our conversation had died and the two of us set our sights ahead, willing something to appear over the horizon. Lucinda's grimoire was still safe in my pack and felt like a target with each step I took. But, it by bit, the darkness was turning into a murky gray, the glow illuminating us coming up from the ground ahead. “Is that…?” Deucalion nodded. “That is our city,” he said with a wave of relief. He tapped his staff on the ground a few times, laughing to himself. The joy that was felt after being in the dark for so long was palpable. [[Next|City of Lost Lanterns]] “I’ll be fine with just your contact,” I told her. <<if $belladying == "true">> There was a numbness to me that I couldn’t quite shake. Bella was to be eternal. Not a frail visage of the woman that controlled the Night Market with only a smile. She couldn’t die.<</if>> “Is this Deucalion aware of everything that is going on?” “I have filled him in,” she told me. Back to business as usual with her, it seemed. “I wouldn’t tell him anymore that you need to but he is a trustworthy man. <<if $belladying == "true">> “Bella, I–” <<elseif $belladying == "false">> “I don’t need to leave immediately. I could stay and–”<</if>> She held up a hand. “It is imperative that you leave sooner rather than later. The city that I suspect you need to travel to only has a path open towards it once every new moon. My suspicion, if I have been looking at the grimoire correctly, is that there are one of the ancient lanterns in there. You will need to relight it.” She plucked Lucinda’s grimoire from on the top of the fridge. A slight towards the witch that her precious spellbook had been discarded with rotting bread. “Take this with you,” she told me. “Look only at the pages with the lanterns. And then come home.” I took the grimoire in my hands, feeling my stomach clench. Come home. The desperation that surrounded her words filled me. “I will,” I promised. Not even death would stop me. [[Next|Outlands - Bella]] <<set $outlandsdeucalion to "true">>“I’ll take Herald with me,” I told her. <<if $belladying == "true">> There was a numbness to me that I couldn’t quite shake. Bella was to be eternal. Not a frail visage of the woman that controlled the Night Market with only a smile. She couldn’t die.<</if>> “He’s been to the Outlands before to help collect bodies. He’ll be a good source of information and may be able to work with this guide to help get us through safely.” Belladonna nodded. “I think that is a marvelous plan. I’ll have him meet you at the gates with Deucalion. <<if $belladying == "true">> “Bella, I–” <<elseif $belladying == "false">> “I don’t need to leave immediately. I could stay and–”<</if>> She held up a hand. “It is imperative that you leave sooner rather than later. The city that I suspect you need to travel to only has a path open towards it once every new moon. My suspicion, if I have been looking at the grimoire correctly, is that there are one of the ancient lanterns in there. You will need to relight it.” She plucked Lucinda’s grimoire from on the top of the fridge. A slight towards the witch that her precious spellbook had been discarded with rotting bread. “Take this with you,” she told me. “Look only at the pages with the lanterns. And then come home.” I took the grimoire in my hands, feeling my stomach clench. Come home. The desperation that surrounded her words filled me. “I will,” I promised. Not even death would stop me. [[Next|Outlands - Bella]] <<set $outlandshandt to "true">>“I think I would like to take Malcolm with me,” I told her. <<if $belladying == "true">> There was a numbness to me that I couldn’t quite shake. Bella was to be eternal. Not a frail visage of the woman that controlled the Night Market with only a smile. She couldn’t die.<</if>> “I trust his judgment on things. And with him being the former Gatekeeper, he might have some insight into what’s out there.” “I’ll have him meet you at the gates with Deucalion,” she said. <<if $belladying == "true">> “Bella, I–” <<elseif $belladying == "false">> “I don’t need to leave immediately. I could stay and–”<</if>> She held up a hand. “It is imperative that you leave sooner rather than later. The city that I suspect you need to travel to only has a path open towards it once every new moon. My suspicion, if I have been looking at the grimoire correctly, is that there are one of the ancient lanterns in there. You will need to relight it.” She plucked Lucinda’s grimoire from on the top of the fridge. A slight towards the witch that her precious spellbook had been discarded with rotting bread. “Take this with you,” she told me. “Look only at the pages with the lanterns. And then come home.” I took the grimoire in my hands, feeling my stomach clench. Come home. The desperation that surrounded her words filled me. “I will,” I promised. Not even death would stop me. [[Next|Outlands - Bella]] <<set $outlandsmal to "true">> I left with my heart heavy. A shattered world passed me by as I let my feet carry me towards the outskirts of the market proper, ready to meet whoever it was that was supposed to be Belladonna’s proxy. The world looked washed out around me. The warmth of the candles were colder and colder, struggling to keep lit with each passing day. And the screams…. The screams had all but stopped. The Night Market was no longer the world I had been so intent to live in. I pulled so many from dying worlds only to give them a much slower and more bitter fate. It felt like, no matter what I did, I was cursed to watch the world die. To lose everything. <<if $belladying == "true">> Even //her//.<</if>> I turned down street after street, my mind wandering. I passed no one on my journey. The bustle and vibrancy of the world felt nothing more than a dream. And perhaps it was. Maybe the music that had wove itself through the cobblestones and the market stalls had been nothing but a rose colored version of the life I had wanted. And now, now I was truly awake. Destined to live the world like everyone else. One struggle after another until I could do it no more. Swiping a hand across my face, I blinked up towards the night sky. Had this been how Malcolm had felt when he used to talk to the lanterns? If I got them back on, would I speak with them as well for some sort of cold comfort. “Stop,” I whispered to myself. “This isn’t you. You are better than this.” //”Are you?// I stopped, twirling around, trying to find the voice. The one that kept haunting my dreams. I knew she wouldn’t be there. She never actually was. But one day. One day I was going to turn around and she would be standing there with the same blackened smile she always had. Then I would have to choose whether I would embrace her or not. <<if $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Herald and Turner Outlands]] <<elseif $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Malcolm Outlands 2]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Deucalion Outlands 2]]<</if>> Two large metal gates were all that separated the market proper from the Outlands. They were sandwiched between the walls that kept the beasts at bay and the only ‘sanctioned’ way in and out of the market. At least according to the Velvet Guard. It was here that Deucalion was to wait for me and where I now walked, taking even breaths as I considered how quickly the day had already progressed despite having only risen a few hours ago. The iron gates loomed before me, rising out of the darkness like some sort of beacon. They of course were lit by the very magic that the Velvet Guard abhorred. Magic of course, they were perfectly accepting of when it benefited them. A man stood to the right of the gates with his cane in hand, tapping at the heavy iron lock that kept us from outside. When he spotted me, his grin grew broad and he bowed. “I thought you may run,” he told me. “I am pleased to see that you are here, mon cher. The name is Deucalion Grey.” He wore a black boned corset beneath a long leather duster, and a high slitted skirt that showed off ample dark skin. The fedora he wore was tipped down low over his brow, silver chains wrapped around the brim and mimicked around his neck. I stopped in front of him, my eyes tracing the gates themselves. They loomed far higher than I think any creature in the Night Market could reach, disappearing into the night sky. “How long is this journey?” I asked. With the tip of his cane, he drew a few sigils into the sand. “That depends on the city itself. Sometimes it's far. Sometimes it's just over the horizon. But, Belladonna is correct in her assertion that it moves and the only safe and clear paths are on nights like tonight.” I looked at the shut gates as if it were some looming omen. “Better get going then.” “That’s the ticket! No time for pleasantries. All business. I can see why she is so protective of you.” With a flap of his coattails, Deucalion squared off against the gate, tapping the heavy iron lock three times. It dissolves into a series of shadowy snakes before slithering off into the dark. The gates themselves opened with an ominous sound. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” I started, feeling slightly bad that I hadn’t even introduced myself. Knowing Bella, she had handed the man an entire dossier on me. “It takes far more than that to cause offense.” With a flourish, he looked at me. “Shall we, Night?” “Am I Night?” “You are beautiful. Handsome? Aw. No matter.” Straightening, he twirled his caine in his hand and sauntered on through the gates. “Adventure awaits.” There was a part of me that questioned myself. Going out into the Outlands like this. Armed with nothing but a stranger and his dulcet tones. Maybe I should have turned back. Maybe I should have gathered my own group to journey into the beyond. But my feet were carrying me forward and I was pushing worry away. I knew that the form I chose to come to the Night Market with had heart. That I had separated out the part of myself that had empathy and compassion. But I was seriously starting to question if I had neglected to give myself any common sense while I was at it. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Deucalion">> <<if $miloro == "true" or $hazelro == "true">> The gathering spot for this particular rendezvous was at the gates leading out towards the Outlands. Deucalion stood by the front locks, tapping his cane along the heavy iron prison that it imposed upon the market proper. While Milo I was sure was watching somewhere from the shadows, Malcolm and I walked side by side to greet the man. Our guide into the light. <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true" or $gabrielro == "true" or $gbpoly == "true">> I was near the front gate where I was supposed to meet Deucalion when a wall opened to reveal Malcolm standing there. He held a note from Belladonna in his hand and wore an expression of confusion that rivaled anything I had yet to feel. When he spotted me, he gingerly stepped through the hole in the wall, looking over his shoulder as it closed behind him. “Did you do that?” he asked, gesturing to the brick, seamlessly back in place. “I wasn’t even aware you were on the other side.” I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost certain it had opened up just outside his home. Given when Bella had sent the note, the man barely had time to put on his shoes. Malcolm held it up to me, the paper a barrier between us. “So, I am going to the Outlands, I hear.” “She threatened you, didn’t she.” He chuckled a little, shoving the note in his pocket before falling in step beside me. “Belladonna could hardly do anything to upset me, Lamplight. She’ll try but her attempts are often more amusingly irritating than anything else.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “The answer is yes, by the way. Of course I am going with you. There shouldn’t be any doubt about that.” “Are you sure? I know things with Hazel are escalating.” “And as of right now, there is nothing I can do about that. I’d rather put my mind to good use. I’m assuming that Belladonna found something?” I explained to him everything that Belladonna had told me, giving him all the details as we approached the outer walls of the market proper. “And that,” I said as I ended what I knew. “Is a man named Deucalion. Apparently he will be escorting us to wherever this city is.” “I most certainly will.” From out of the shadows a lanky man stepped. He wore a black boned corset beneath a long leather duster, and a high slitted skirt that showed off ample dark skin. The fedora he wore was tipped down low over his brow, silver chains wrapped around the brim and mimicked around his neck. He bowed to us with a flourish, tipping his cane forward. “Deucalion Grey,” he said. “At your service.” “I’m $name,” I said. “And this is Malcolm Albright. I’m assuming Belladonna has already filled you in?” “She has, my dear Night. Quite thoroughly and with the threat of fangs.” Deucalion shrugged. “We need to refer to you as something. And I am just rubbish with names.” <</if>> A pack was handed to Malcolm as my own was secured better onto my back. “Now,” Deucalion said. “Shall we be going?” I glanced at Malcolm with the slightest bit of trepidation. Again, everything was spiraling so quickly. A rush of urgency was wrapping around us like an anchor and my gut was screaming for us to just stop. “Lamplight?” Malcolm asked. I looked up towards the swaying empty lights above and somewhere in the distance, I heard a cry for help. Yet another one unfurling in a sea of lost souls. “Yeah,” I answered, “let’s go.” “Splendid!” Deucalion clapped his hand before turning on his heel and piercing the iron lock upon the gate with the tip of his cane. To my surprise, the lock clicked open, falling to the ground in a shiver of coiled rope as the gates themselves swung open with an obnoxious creak. “Come along,” Deucalion called, stepping forward. “Follow me,” he sang. “And you’ll see…” His voice trailed off as he stepped through. Standing side by side, Malcolm and I stared at each other for a long moment. Our packs were heavy on our back and the world was stretching before us like a proverbial red carpet. “After you,” I told Malcolm. Malcolm held out his arm, helping me loop my own within his. “Together,” he said. And together, we stepped over the edge. [[Next|Outland merger]] <<set $companion to "Malcolm">> Do to some old stray codes, please reinsert your choices to make sure you get to play the full game. Who did you send to help Gabriel? [[I chose Reese]] [[I chose Elias]] [[I chose Belladonna]]<<set $help to "reese">> Pick your romance route [[I am romancing Hazel]] [[I am romancing Gabriel]] [[I am romancing Belladonna]] [[I am romancing Belladonna and Gabriel]] [[I am romancing Milo]] [[I was romancing Milo but broke up with him]] [[I was romancing Milo, broke up, and then decided against it]] [[I am romancing no one]]<<set $help to "elias">> Pick your romance route [[I am romancing Hazel]] [[I am romancing Gabriel]] [[I am romancing Belladonna]] [[I am romancing Belladonna and Gabriel]] [[I am romancing Milo]] [[I was romancing Milo but broke up with him]] [[I was romancing Milo, broke up, and then decided against it]] [[I am romancing no one]]<<set $help to "belladonna">> Pick your romance route [[I am romancing Hazel]] [[I am romancing Gabriel]] [[I am romancing Belladonna]] [[I am romancing Belladonna and Gabriel]] [[I am romancing Milo]] [[I was romancing Milo but broke up with him]] [[I was romancing Milo, broke up, and then decided against it]] [[I am romancing no one]]<<set $hazelro to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]]<<set $gabrielro to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]]<<set $belladonnaro to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]]<<set $gbpoly to "true">><<set $miloro to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]]<<set $milobreakup to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]]<<set $platonic to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]]<<set $hazelkey to "true">> <<if $miloro == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Milo]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Belladonna start]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Gabriel]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Gabriel]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Platonic/break up] <<elseif $falsebreakup == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Platonic/break up]] <<elseif $milobreakup == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Platonic/break up]]<</if>><<set $hazelkey to "false">> <<if $miloro == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Milo]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Belladonna start]] <<elseif $hazelro == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">>[[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Gabriel]] <<elseif $gbpoly == "true">>[[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Gabriel]] <<elseif $platonic == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Platonic/break up] <<elseif $falsebreakup == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Platonic/break up]] <<elseif $milobreakup == "true">> [[Chapter Six|Chapter Six - Platonic/break up]]<</if>><<set $falsebreakup to "true">> Did you use the key on Hazel? [[I used the key]] [[No I did not use the key]] Once, there had been a city. Vibrant. True. Full of a future that was unfolding so rapidly that it was breathtaking to behold. The lanterns stood bright in a sea of fresh eyes, a beacon for all that were lost. Most of those lanterns were gone. Broken and buried beneath the sand. They died with most of the ancients the day the walls fell and the market rose to the tops of the mountain peaks. I could see it. Hear the screaming. The death toll rose and rose and the lantern shined through the entire time. Then, when the world had ended, the survivors had walked forward and made a home. But the beacon was broken now. A cornerstone of the world had ruptured, shattered bits of it on the ground. And no matter how many times someone gathered all the pieces together, nothing ever fit together quite right again. In fact, with each attempt, the lantern broke a little more. I sunk to my knees, staring up at the cracked part of myself. I felt like crying. Like screaming. Like the different aspects of myself were warring to the surface to simply rage against the maelstrom that was coming our way. And this wouldn’t be the last. There were so many other cracked parts out there. Pieces of myself that were now gone. Ones I would never get back. And what of the people that relied on the light and the warmth? What were they supposed to do as I faded away from them all? “Do you see it now?” Ernest. The small little voice that had been a cocky sound in the echo chamber of my mind. He stood right behind me, and I suddenly wondered how long I had been kneeling there. “Do you see how important you are?” I turned, looking at him over my shoulder. “Yes.” “You need to save us.” “I don’t even know what happened.” But I did. I could see the way the cracks had formed. How the ancients had started this. But the community had come together. They had patched me up. Nothing could be unbroken, but it could be repaired. What had happened to make it all go to hell again? “You do,” Ernest said in frustration. “Every time you are here, you make the same excuses. You never just listen to us. Why don’t you listen?” “Easy.” A deep rumble came from the shadows. A man stepped forward. The ragged trappings of a cloak hung on him, spotted with dirt and sand. I could see something nicer beneath, but wherever he had been left him marred with his surroundings and stained with time. When he pushed his hood aside, he revealed a pocked face. One that was kind and half covered by a dark beard. His eyes were downturned and soft and the sides of his eyes crinkled with old laughter. Ernest looked as if he was going to protest, but the thick palm of the man's hand came down upon his shoulder. As the boy looked upwards with a face full of malice, the man shook his head no. His smile was genuine when turned towards me. None of the animosity that the kid displayed. “It is good to see you, Night.” I tipped my head to the side. “You know me?” “Not this version of you. Maybe not even the recent past version of you. But I think I have met you before. Unless I am being fooled. Which, given the mischief of some of the followers, I may have been.” “Followers?” “Forgive me, I am jumping ahead. Can I help you with anything? Did you make this pilgrimage alone.” “Nope, ?they didn’t make a pilgrimage,” Ernest said. “At least one other arrived with ?them. They all blundered around the market for a bit before they upset Sissy and followed me here.” The man's hand tightened on Ernest’s shoulder. “Why don’t you run along? Start some tea.” “I was the one that found ?them.” “And you did a good job. Now go.” Ernest should have protested. I was almost certain it wasn’t in the boy's nature to be agreeable. Yet, when he looked up into the kindly face, he relented. Running away. “Forgive my grandson,” he said. “He’s full of vigor.” “Grandson?” The man grinned broadly. “Too young to have one. I know.” He left it at that. Given how time moved in the Night Market, I was almost certain that it had something to do with that. The man didn’t look that much older than me. Then again, that should have been proof that age was not easy to tell. “Who are you?” I asked. “Oswald Truthbelly.” He drummed his hand on his rounded stomach, the folds of his robe bouncing around him. [[It doesn’t ring a bell]] [[I think I remember you]] [[Truthbelly?]] “I’m sorry,” I told him. “It doesn’t ring a bell. Which I think it should, given the name.” He laughed loudly once more, the act itself surrounding me with warmth. “Looks like it’s not that memorable, I suppose. Which, I like a bit. Means that I can still slink around in the shadows of names.” I shifted a little on my feet. “I’m going to have to ask if that is a metaphor or if there is an actual shadow of names.” He grinned, winking at me. “Want to create one? Somewhere that we can slink around with our own code. It would be a terrible and corruptible idea but I do need projects to keep this brain of mine busy.” I laughed a little. “I think you are fine in that department.” He dipped his head towards me in deference. For not remembering anything about this man, I didn’t feel discomfort. Perhaps for one of the first times within the Night Market, I actually felt at ease with a stranger. Oswald’s smile faded as he continued to look at me, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m sorry,” he told me solemnly. “We really did try to keep this lantern safe.” I turned back to the broken light, a darkness circling around it. I felt such sadness when I looked at it. A shroud reaching out to curl around me. The profound sense of haunting sorrow that loomed around us was almost too much to bear. It was as if the light was calling out to me. Asking for forgiveness for not holding on, and I didn’t know why. [[Why is it here?]] [[It still feels alive]] [[Do you feel that?]] <<set $knowoswald to "false">>“I– I think I remember you.” Images of the same laughing man entered my thoughts. Though he was younger. Less haggard. As if the world had not yet gotten to him. I remembered him reaching out to take my hand. Squeezing it tight in a promise. And I remember him screaming. The light consuming him as I faded away into flickering ash. “You saw me die?” His smile fell a little. “You said you were going home. But I think you were just being kind to me. I think every time you return to your higher self, it hurts a little bit. I’ve never seen it not be brutal.” “How many times have you seen it?” “Twice in person. Once through the retelling of an old sage.” Three deaths. Three deaths that I could barely remember but the feeling still stung. Of being torn apart bit by bit and reformed up in the stars. I wanted to feel sorry for him for what he witnessed. But most of all, I was feeling sorry for myself. What kind of life had I chosen through the years that this was forever my fate. Oswald’s smile faded as he continued to look at me, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m sorry,” he told me solemnly. “We really did try to keep this lantern safe.” I turned back to the broken light, a darkness circling around it. I felt such sadness when I looked at it. A shroud reaching out to curl around me. The profound sense of haunting sorrow that loomed around us was almost too much to bear. It was as if the light was calling out to me. Asking for forgiveness for not holding on, and I didn’t know why. [[Why is it here?]] [[It still feels alive]] [[Do you feel that?]] <<set $knowoswald to "true">>“Truthbelly?” It was a gimmick. It had to be. The name felt far too on the nose. But the man was just standing there, grinning at me, arching his back a little more so his belly protruded, round and prominent. “Yup. Got it in one. Now, can I approach? We friends?” “I don’t know you.” “I’m Oswald Truthbelly,” he repeated. As if the name itself somehow told me all I needed to know about him. “So you said.” He laughed uproariously, his cheeks darkening with mirth. I wasn’t quite sure what he found so funny, but I didn’t find the man to be sinister. The very fact that he was giving me my space said what kind of person he was. As low as that bar may seem. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he was still grinning at me. “Sorry. You’re funnier than the last one.” “So you //have// met me before.” He shrugged a little. “I try not to put too much of a label on things. Especially on things that pertain to the market. Ever-changing like a fast flowing river, this place is.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. Given the weight of what was lying behind me and the memories swirling n my head, I didn’t know if I could. Oswald’s smile faded as he continued to look at me, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m sorry,” he told me solemnly. “We really did try to keep this lantern safe.” I turned back to the broken light, a darkness circling around it. I felt such sadness when I looked at it. A shroud reaching out to curl around me. The profound sense of haunting sorrow that loomed around us was almost too much to bear. It was as if the light was calling out to me. Asking for forgiveness for not holding on, and I didn’t know why. [[Why is it here?]] [[It still feels alive]] [[Do you feel that?]] <<set $knowoswald to "false">>“Why is it here?” I stepped a bit closer, my fingers reaching out, delicately tap against some of the remaining stained-glass panels. They shivered beneath my touch, read to fall apart with the barest glimpse of comfort. “It is where the lamp has always been.” “But the Market Proper is far away from here. Wouldn’t it be safer there?” I looked over my shoulder. Oswald’s face remained neutral, and that alone evoked some amount of shame. Even I knew how unsafe the Market Proper was. Just because there was a society within the walls, did not make it good. Did not make it better than the so called outcasts of these lands. “Why don’t you come with me,” Oswald said. He was looking around this cave with apprehension. In the distance, I could hear the tinkling of glass, the vibrations from our conversation sending some of the looser pieces scattering to the ground. “I might be able to explain some things to you. Answer some of the questions I’m sure you have.” I looked back at the lantern. “What about…” there was a name. It was on the tip of my tongue. Why couldn’t I remember the name? “It’ll still be here,” he assured me. “It’s not goin’ anywhere at this point. I promise we’ll be keeping it safe.” The lantern was tall. Far taller than I had first clocked. It caught the moonlight above every once in a while. Little shafts of silver that came down through the holes in the cavern ceiling. “It should be hanging,” I told him. “Come on,” the man said again. “Let’s get you someplace warm.” I was shivering. When had I started to shiver? With one last look at the lantern, I turned, stepping over the rubble at my feet. When I stepped up to the man, this Oswald, I noticed just how big he truly was. He was wide and tall, bulging from his robes. His hair was cut close to his head and his eyes were a soft brown. “Just follow me,” he said, voice still gentle and even. There was a kindness there. One that I hadn’t expected from any Outlander, now that I was thinking about it. I followed him back up the braided ladder that Ernest had dropped. Back through the winding street with the crammed together houses and past most of the same people that had watched me follow the young boy to their holy site. I wondered now why none of them had stopped me. Or if they innately knew who I was. Instead of turning back towards the main area where the lanterns fell like rain, Oswald turned, leading me past a river of glass and around the corner towards a dip in the ground. Small huts lined the perimeter, made out of dirt and sand, with a roaring multicolored fire at the epicenter of it all. Oswald glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, looking a bit sheepish. “Hope you like people,” he said. “‘Cause I got a lot of them.” There was a set of stairs that wound around the entire basin until they reached the bottom. I could spot Ernest sitting sullenly midway down. As we began our descent, the firelight caught against the walls, showcasing the mosaic surroundings embedded into the dirt. Reaching out, I touched the bits of glass, hearing the whispers from the past rise up to greet me. “You traveled with some others?” Oswald was asking. “I did. I don’t think I could have made it through the Outlands on my own.” “Dangerous place, that,” he agreed with a nod. “Used to travel there constantly. Did one of our guides help get you all out here?” “Deucalion Grey,” I told him. Oswald broke into another ear-splitting grin. “How is old Deucalion? I think I owe him a drink or something. Maybe it was a meal. Bah. I don’t know anywhere. Can’t keep track. Good guy, that one.” We passed Ernest without much fanfare. The kid was kicking bitterly at the rocks at his feet. Oswald ruffled his hair as we passed, and Ernest ducked out of his way. When we reached the bottom, several more children came running up, chatting excitedly up at Oswald. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, picking a few up and swinging them around. “We got a guest. All of you scatter for a bit. Got important things to do here.” [[It’s nice seeing a community]] [[Are these the followers you spoke of?]] [[Are you in charge of this city?]] “It still feels alive,” I told him. There was no source of flesh to monitor the rise and fall of breath. I could see no pulse. No beating heart. But it was there in the dead light. A flickering coal that was struggling to survive. To the untrained eye, it was gone. Nothing more than a cold little pile of broken glass. But I felt more. The world around me was alive, was //me// and I knew that this light was not without hope. Not yet. Turning to Oswald, I looked at him with hope. “Does it feel alive to you?” He sighed. “I wish it weren’t at times. If only so it could finally be at peace.” But there was no peace in death. I knew that all too well. Death was when the true work began. “Why don’t you come with me,” Oswald said. He was looking around this cave with apprehension. In the distance, I could hear the tinkling of glass, the vibrations from our conversation sending some of the looser pieces scattering to the ground. “I might be able to explain some things to you. Answer some of the questions I’m sure you have.” I looked back at the lantern. “What about…” there was a name. It was on the tip of my tongue. Why couldn’t I remember the name? “It’ll still be here,” he assured me. “It’s not goin’ anywhere at this point. I promise we’ll be keeping it safe.” The lantern was tall. Far taller than I had first clocked. It caught the moonlight above every once in a while. Little shafts of silver that came down through the holes in the cavern ceiling. “It should be hanging,” I told him. “Come on,” the man said again. “Let’s get you someplace warm.” I was shivering. When had I started to shiver? With one last look at the lantern, I turned, stepping over the rubble at my feet. When I stepped up to the man, this Oswald, I noticed just how big he truly was. He was wide and tall, bulging from his robes. His hair was cut close to his head and his eyes were a soft brown. “Just follow me,” he said, voice still gentle and even. There was a kindness there. One that I hadn’t expected from any Outlander, now that I was thinking about it. I followed him back up the braided ladder that Ernest had dropped. Back through the winding street with the crammed together houses and past most of the same people that had watched me follow the young boy to their holy site. I wondered now why none of them had stopped me. Or if they innately knew who I was. Instead of turning back towards the main area where the lanterns fell like rain, Oswald turned, leading me past a river of glass and around the corner towards a dip in the ground. Small huts lined the perimeter, made out of dirt and sand, with a roaring multicolored fire at the epicenter of it all. Oswald glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, looking a bit sheepish. “Hope you like people,” he said. “‘Cause I got a lot of them.” There was a set of stairs that wound around the entire basin until they reached the bottom. I could spot Ernest sitting sullenly midway down. As we began our descent, the firelight caught against the walls, showcasing the mosaic surroundings embedded into the dirt. Reaching out, I touched the bits of glass, hearing the whispers from the past rise up to greet me. “You traveled with some others?” Oswald was asking. “I did. I don’t think I could have made it through the Outlands on my own.” “Dangerous place, that,” he agreed with a nod. “Used to travel there constantly. Did one of our guides help get you all out here?” “Deucalion Grey,” I told him. Oswald broke into another ear-splitting grin. “How is old Deucalion? I think I owe him a drink or something. Maybe it was a meal. Bah. I don’t know anywhere. Can’t keep track. Good guy, that one.” We passed Ernest without much fanfare. The kid was kicking bitterly at the rocks at his feet. Oswald ruffled his hair as we passed, and Ernest ducked out of his way. When we reached the bottom, several more children came running up, chatting excitedly up at Oswald. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, picking a few up and swinging them around. “We got a guest. All of you scatter for a bit. Got important things to do here.” [[It’s nice seeing a community]] [[Are these the followers you spoke of?]] [[Are you in charge of this city?]] “Do you feel that? I asked him. Desperately, I wanted him to say yes. For someone to just acknowledge how all this felt. Because it felt terrible. It was aching in my chest like a vice, holding onto me without relent. “Every day.” There was a crack in his voice. One that spoke of the pain that he hid in order to keep the world right. It spoke of his position in life that he felt he had to hide the worst of the world in order for a sense of calm to rule. Relief washed over me at his word. They helped lessen the feeling of loneliness. This man had somehow held out his hand to share a burden I hadn’t been aware I would even shoulder until now. This alone helped dissipate the shroud of impending doom that surrounded us. “Why don’t you come with me,” Oswald said. He was looking around this cave with apprehension. In the distance, I could hear the tinkling of glass, the vibrations from our conversation sending some of the looser pieces scattering to the ground. “I might be able to explain some things to you. Answer some of the questions I’m sure you have.” I looked back at the lantern. “What about…” there was a name. It was on the tip of my tongue. Why couldn’t I remember the name? “It’ll still be here,” he assured me. “It’s not goin’ anywhere at this point. I promise we’ll be keeping it safe.” The lantern was tall. Far taller than I had first clocked. It caught the moonlight above every once in a while. Little shafts of silver that came down through the holes in the cavern ceiling. “It should be hanging,” I told him. “Come on,” the man said again. “Let’s get you someplace warm.” I was shivering. When had I started to shiver? With one last look at the lantern, I turned, stepping over the rubble at my feet. When I stepped up to the man, this Oswald, I noticed just how big he truly was. He was wide and tall, bulging from his robes. His hair was cut close to his head and his eyes were a soft brown. “Just follow me,” he said, voice still gentle and even. There was a kindness there. One that I hadn’t expected from any Outlander, now that I was thinking about it. I followed him back up the braided ladder that Ernest had dropped. Back through the winding street with the crammed together houses and past most of the same people that had watched me follow the young boy to their holy site. I wondered now why none of them had stopped me. Or if they innately knew who I was. Instead of turning back towards the main area where the lanterns fell like rain, Oswald turned, leading me past a river of glass and around the corner towards a dip in the ground. Small huts lined the perimeter, made out of dirt and sand, with a roaring multicolored fire at the epicenter of it all. Oswald glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, looking a bit sheepish. “Hope you like people,” he said. “‘Cause I got a lot of them.” There was a set of stairs that wound around the entire basin until they reached the bottom. I could spot Ernest sitting sullenly midway down. As we began our descent, the firelight caught against the walls, showcasing the mosaic surroundings embedded into the dirt. Reaching out, I touched the bits of glass, hearing the whispers from the past rise up to greet me. “You traveled with some others?” Oswald was asking. “I did. I don’t think I could have made it through the Outlands on my own.” “Dangerous place, that,” he agreed with a nod. “Used to travel there constantly. Did one of our guides help get you all out here?” “Deucalion Grey,” I told him. Oswald broke into another ear-splitting grin. “How is old Deucalion? I think I owe him a drink or something. Maybe it was a meal. Bah. I don’t know anywhere. Can’t keep track. Good guy, that one.” We passed Ernest without much fanfare. The kid was kicking bitterly at the rocks at his feet. Oswald ruffled his hair as we passed, and Ernest ducked out of his way. When we reached the bottom, several more children came running up, chatting excitedly up at Oswald. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, picking a few up and swinging them around. “We got a guest. All of you scatter for a bit. Got important things to do here.” [[It’s nice seeing a community]] [[Are these the followers you spoke of?]] [[Are you in charge of this city?]] “It’s nice seeing a community,” I told him. The Night Market Proper felt far more like a business. The stalls that were scattered about the districts. The businesses that popped up, controlling the market for blocks on end. The festivals. The trade routes. The entertainment and the games. Homes felt far rarer. Shoved in between places of commerce. I don’t think I had seen so many homes since being here. “We do what we can,” Oswald said. “It’s not the prettiest of places. Nothing as flashy as the market itself. But, it is home.” We arrived at an open-faced hut made of mud and sand and bits of dried herbs. It smelled of lavender and a similar spice that I used to smell in the middle of the market back when it was whole. Inside, a simmering coal fire burned light pink, the broken bits of lanterns around it reflecting the light and casting stars onto the ceiling. “Please, sit.” Oswald was bustling around the hut. He was gathering small glass jars before pouring cool water inside. “I don’t have much in the way of entertaining company right now. Just had a big get-together last night that cleared me out. But I can offer you some water if you’d like.” He set the jar down in front of me. Then, heaving himself down across from me, he settled with his hands in his laps. “Alright, hit me. What kind of questions do you have this time.” I blinked at him. [[Why do I not remember my previous lives?]] [[How do we save the market?]] [[Is ‘everything’ an appropriate response?]] “Are these the followers you spoke of?” There were individuals of all ages around. Small children were strapped to their parents backs, while patrons far older than Oswald were sitting in a circle near the fire, gossiping about the day's events. “Some,” Oswald said. “Others just found a home here and have never left. I think there is a bit of safety people feel here. Young families have moved in to raise their children. With them have come their parents and their friends. All are welcome.” We arrived at an open-faced hut made of mud and sand and bits of dried herbs. It smelled of lavender and a similar spice that I used to smell in the middle of the market back when it was whole. Inside, a simmering coal fire burned light pink, the broken bits of lanterns around it reflecting the light and casting stars onto the ceiling. “Please, sit.” Oswald was bustling around the hut. He was gathering small glass jars before pouring cool water inside. “I don’t have much in the way of entertaining company right now. Just had a big get-together last night that cleared me out. But I can offer you some water if you’d like.” He set the jar down in front of me. Then, heaving himself down across from me, he settled with his hands in his laps. “Alright, hit me. What kind of questions do you have this time.” I blinked at him. [[Why do I not remember my previous lives?]] [[How do we save the market?]] [[Is ‘everything’ an appropriate response?]] “Are you in charge of this city?” I asked him. “In charge?” This time, his belly laugh was accompanied by him holding his gut, grinning ear to ear. “Am I in charge? No one in their right mind would put me in charge. And don’t believe anyone that tells you otherwise.” As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice the people that stopped to greet him. The ones that waved from across the way. Others who gave him a slap on the back. Whether he believed he was in charge or not wasn’t really a question. It was clear that he was respected. And that was far more powerful than any other title. We arrived at an open-faced hut made of mud and sand and bits of dried herbs. It smelled of lavender and a similar spice that I used to smell in the middle of the market back when it was whole. Inside, a simmering coal fire burned light pink, the broken bits of lanterns around it reflecting the light and casting stars onto the ceiling. “Please, sit.” Oswald was bustling around the hut. He was gathering small glass jars before pouring cool water inside. “I don’t have much in the way of entertaining company right now. Just had a big get-together last night that cleared me out. But I can offer you some water if you’d like.” He set the jar down in front of me. Then, heaving himself down across from me, he settled with his hands in his laps. “Alright, hit me. What kind of questions do you have this time.” I blinked at him. [[Why do I not remember my previous lives?]] [[How do we save the market?]] [[Is ‘everything’ an appropriate response?]] “Why do I not remember my previous lives?” I asked him. He had met me a few times now and occasionally, I would get the briefest flash of a previous me. <<if $knowoswald == "true">> The kinship I felt with Oswald had only just reappeared. There had been trust between us. And yet, when I first saw him, I couldn’t even remember his name. What was the point in not remembering any of this?<</if>> “It doesn’t seem to help and you would think I would have understood that after the first or second time I came down.” “You did,” he said. “You’ve always had your memories for the times before. From what I know, you’ve used every visit down here as an extension of the last.” The easy smile slipped from his face then and for the first time, he was looking me up and down, assessing the person I was. “You really don’t remember much, do you.” I shook my head. He responded with a low whistle. “Oh, now. That clears things up a bit;. You don’t even know what’s going on.” “And you do?” He raised his hands. “Not entirely. Please don’t take what I say to you as gospel. But, I may be able to give you a bit of information. If you’ll accept it.’ “Do I sometimes not accept it?” I was almost hesitant to ask. “You’ve been here as a few versions of yourself. Some of them have been far angrier than I could handle. In my experience, acceptance and anger do not go hand in hand.” I looked down at my own hands. At the key shaped scar upon my chest. At the wounds that were in my mind from Taliesin. “I don’t think I’m an angry version of myself. Maybe I should be.” “Would it solve anything?” he asked pragmatically. [[It might get things done quicker]] [[I don’t know. It could help or hinder]] [[No, there is enough anger in the world already]] “How do we save the market?” I asked him. “I’ll start with the most difficult question, I guess. Get it out of the way.” Oswald at least had a sense of humor about it. “Oh, no. It’s the easiest. Obviously.” “Obviously. Sighing, he looked around him. At the market, he knew. “I don’t know if we will ever save it to the point of non destruction. I think we may always be in danger of that given how this world is set up. With being the savior of all other realms, you’ve opened yourself to danger.” “Didn’t you hear? The market is closed down to the other realms.” Oswald waited for a moment, looking for an explanation. When I didn’t give him one, he realized how serious I was. “It’s– not closed off,” he said. “It is. The Gatekeeper has closed the doors. Won’t open any new ones.” “Aw. Just because he won’t open any new ones, doesn’t mean he has closed all the other ones. I’m sure he will if given the chance.” “I was told that the ritual he did closed everything,” I said. Oswald held his hands up. “Perhaps I am wrong. But, doors are opening. Maybe they are simply without his consent.” A band-aid. The ritual was a band-aid. I could feel the stretched nature of the world like dry skin. It itched and cracked and for a while, it was going to feel better and heal. But if the same actions were repeated, the skin would continue to grow thin. One day, it just wouldn’t repair. Maybe there were areas that it already hadn’t. “Where are they opening?” I hadn’t seen any within the market itself. And before Oswald said anything, I already had a suspicion of what was going on. “Out here. In the Outlands. The old ruins of the Ancients. The market is far bigger than most are aware of. I don’t know the Gatekeeper personally but it wouldn’t surprise me if not even they knew the scope.” [[Our current Gatekeeper didn’t get the training he maybe should]] [[Our current Gatekeeper is overwhelmed]] [[Our current Gatekeeper is underqualified for the job]] [[I think you and the Gatekeeper might need to meet]] “Is ‘everything’ an appropriate response?” I asked. He laughed loud and carefree, slapping his knee at that. “Actually, it probably is. Given the clusterfuck that is the market these days, I don’t think I would know where to start either.” “You know of the state of the market?” “I do,” he nodded. “It’s not lookin’ good. I’ve had people on the lookout for you. Hoping you’d come out here. Hoping we could help somehow. You’ve been a hard one to find. Looks like I just needed to be patient, however. You wandered here on your own.” So he hadn’t even brought me here. There was a small kernel of hope that wanted to have some divine path but it turned out, I was still the one in charge of my own footsteps. I just had no idea where they would lead. “I– I really wish I knew what to ask you. Where to begin.” The easy smile slipped from his face then and for the first time, he was looking me up and down, assessing the person I was. “You really don’t remember much, do you.” I shook my head. He responded with a low whistle. “Oh, now. That clears things up a bit;. You don’t even know what’s going on.” “And you do?” He raised his hands. “Not entirely. Please don’t take what I say to you as gospel. But, I may be able to give you a bit of information. If you’ll accept it.’ “Do I sometimes not accept it?” I was almost hesitant to ask. “You’ve been here as a few versions of yourself. Some of them have been far angrier than I could handle. In my experience, acceptance and anger do not go hand in hand.” I looked down at my own hands. At the key shaped scar upon my chest. At the wounds that were in my mind from Taliesin. “I don’t think I’m an angry version of myself. Maybe I should be.” “Would it solve anything?” he asked pragmatically. [[It might get things done quicker]] [[I don’t know. It could help or hinder]] [[No, there is enough anger in the world already]] “Anger could certainly get things done quicker. I feel like the nicer someone is, the longer it takes to get anything done.” “There is a difference, you know, between being nice and being a push over. I am not sure if that is the problem you are having but being kind does not mean others will walk all over you. It does not even mean you can not have demands. Being a soul without anger as your tool for conversation means you are thinking of others needs and weighing them out.” I hadn’t really thought of it that way before. Anger always looked as if it got more done. And it felt good in the brief moments it bloomed. But, it wasn’t lasting. And the structure built with it was corrupt. It was certainly not something I wanted others to live by. Or to direct towards me. I didn’t say anything more to his words. I had to think them over for a while. I didn’t know how I would be able to answer him with a knee jerk response. “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]]“I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. “Anger could help, but it could also hinder. I feel as if I was angrier, more might get done. I could force some events to come to fruition, put into place the individuals who need to be. Tear down structures that should never have been erected to begin with.” “But?” I sighed. “But then am I any better than the ones I am angry at? Or do I simply just have more power.” The world was ruled by those with power. With clout. And as I looked at those who had it now, they sickened me. I didn’t want to be them. “There is rarely an easy answer to these things,” Oswald told me. “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]] “There is enough anger in the world already,” I told him. As the lights continued to diminish and the world began to crumble, anger and fear were the predominate feelings that wove their way through the market. It wrapped around people in a deathly choke, and most of them succumbed to it, never to return. I didn’t want to add to that. I didn’t want to //be// that. All I wanted was to work towards a better world. One that wasn’t defined, but how much someone hated someone else. Or the constant need to point out to a stranger how wrong they were perceived to be. Oswald smiled a little, reading the thoughts across my face. I didn’t know if he could actually hear them, but the sentiment seemed to be there all the same. “Anger is often a powerful enemy,” he said. “In my time, I have found it do nothing but add to the forces that are here to keep us down. Kind of a cyclical thing, really. A way to keep us all focused on our own needs and fears and often times problems, instead of looking at the bigger picture.” He shrugged a little. “But that is just my two cents.” Leaning forward, he stoked part of the fire. The bright pink flames crackled and spit, embers landing on my skin to dissipate into a fine shimmer. “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]] “Our current Gatekeeper didn’t get the training he maybe should have,” I said. “Did he not receive the training from the Fates?” I shook my head. The Fates and Milo’s association to it was a sore subject. I still didn’t know where I stood with it. Once I gained access to all of my memories, I wanted to go back and look at those moments to gain some sort of clarity. “Well,” Oswald said. “Maybe I can assist him just as much as he could assist me.” It was a nice idea, and one that I hoped would come to fruition. But plans in this world seemed to crumble at the slightest provocation. “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]] “Our current Gatekeeper is overwhelmed,” I told him. “I don’t know if it’s been a constant with him, but there is far too much going on, and I don’t get the feeling he knows how to handle any of it.” “Is he new?” “No. He’s the longest living Gatekeeper we’ve had. He’s just… crafty. He’s fae, if that means anything.” Oswald laughed loudly. “It actually does. The fae are fickle. They are forgetful. And they are not known for their discipline.” “Yup, that sounds like Milo.” He felt more fae as time went on. It was hard to explain, but whatever had unlocked with the knowledge of what he was, slowly was bleeding through his bones. “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]] “Our current Gatekeeper is underqualified for the job,” I told him. Milo was in over his head. He didn’t have the training that apparently other Gatekeepers did. Yet, somehow, he was the longest living one to date. I could only attribute that to him being a lucky son of a bitch. “I see,” Oswald said with a slight crease to his brow. “Does that mean he is not taking his role seriously.” That, I was not sure about. I honestly did not know much about Milo being a Gatekeeper. Only that he was one. But I had not seen him in action. “I do not know. I think he doesn’t want to, but he has maybe been forced to.” “Ah,” Oswald said. “A meeting with him may do some good for the market. Perhaps I will have to track him down.” “I can help with that,” I told him. If Oswald came to the market, I would make sure that Milo didn’t lurk in the shadows and ignore him. “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]] “I think you and the Gatekeeper might need to meet,” I told him. Milo knew that there were exiled communities within the Outlands, but I don’t think anyone could have known they were like this. Now, Oswald was speaking of ruins and pockets that no one had traversed in quite some time. There very well could be open doors there. Bits of Gatekeeper magic that had been lost that Milo needed to tend to. “Do you know the Gatekeeper?” Oswald asked curiously. <<if $miloro == "true">> “A little too well.” <<elseif $miloro == "false">> “Yes. He would actually really enjoy meeting you, I think.” <</if>> “I suppose it makes sense,” Oswald said, stroking his chin. “The Gatekeeper would be known by the Night Market, if they were going to be known by anyone. I would love to meet them, if you can arrange it. Only if they are not in line with the Velvet Guard, however. I do not need that danger at my back.” “Milo hates the guard,” I assured him. “You will be in good hands.” “I’m assuming you are here because the lights are out in the main part of the realm.” “I am. But, is it even a problem to anyone out here?” “I felt it when they went out,” he told me with a small nod. “The lantern here has never been able to fully relight through the decades, but it’s always had a gleam to it. Like a smoldering ember of sorts. We’ve stoked it and cared for it round the clock, but when the lights went out, it finally just diminished to nothing. So it’s a bit of a problem. Perhaps not as jarring as it is to anyone in the market proper.” “It looks like it’s been broken a long time.” “It has. Far longer than I remember. I think before I was even born. But the lantern still //tries//. It still puts its energy out there.” Oswald looked truly saddened at the thought. Because even the littlest bit of light could make a difference. “I am also assuming the other lanterns are broken as well?” “From what I understand. But this was one of the few we know the whereabouts of. Because of Deucalion. The others are just on maps.” Oswald hummed a little, staring contemplatively into the fire. “Send Deucalion to me. We can compare notes. Long before I came here, I used to wander the realm as a young man. Looking for information about where we came from. What the people were like before. I might be able to help map out where the others lanterns are. More specifically, at least.” “I appreciate that. I’ll be sure to send him over.” Individuals were passing outside the hut, coming to and fro, some of them peeking in curiously about the newcomer. “What exactly is it you do? I haven’t met many people that know about the lanterns. How they operate, at least. And I’ve met even less people who seem to know that the Night Market can walk this realm, let alone has met me before.” “I am a pastor of sorts. A follower of the light. Through the knowledge I have gained, I began to adhere to the religion of the lanterns and have taken it as my duty not only to teach it to others, but to also protect the light. After all, without the light…” he spread his hands out as if to say that this was the result. And it was. The market had taken a decidedly negative turn since the light had been doused. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that it wasn’t going to last much longer. “So you are saying the lanterns have a religion?” “Followers of the light simply adhere to the old creation stories. Maybe some take them with a grain of salt, but ultimately, we believe that the lanterns are sacred. That when they fall, it is the end of our line.” “But they have fallen.” “I do not think they have. Not entirely. But, I do believe them to be on the brink.” Taking a sip of my water, I felt the cool liquid race down my throat. It soothed something inside of me, healing little cracks and fissures that I didn’t know I had. “Do you know how to relight the lanterns?” I asked. “There are old texts. Rituals. I have been looking into it all. I have found nothing concrete yet but I’m certain I will.” “Any help you can give is appreciated.” “Of course, Night. Anything.” “$name is fine.” “$name. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am excited to get to know this version of you.” I didn’t know how to respond to that. The fact that other versions had come before me was still something I was getting used to. “You said there is a creation story that you follow? Is it the creation of the Night Market itself?” “Yes,” Oswald said, looking rather excited. “Would you like to hear it?” I nodded to him, settling back and gesturing for him to continue. “Long ago, there was Father Time. He controlled the universe and how it should be parceled out to his brethren. But as families grew and others came and went, he realized he was lacking in the world. Wishing to have someone of his own to keep by his side. So, he took the concept of light and broke it in three. Three daughters were born then, creating the realm in which we live. But as the daughters grew, they became restless. They became tired. Two left the world to set out on their own, while one remained behind.” “So I am a daughter of Father Time?” I asked. “Daughter. Son. Child. The old stories may not be so correct.” “Creation stories rarely are,” I said with a small laugh. Downing the rest of my water, I set it aside, looking at the empty glass and considering what he had just said. [[I dont remember a father. I remember a grandmother]] [[I know I have a sister. But I keep forgetting about her]] [[None of this matters in the face of the world ending]] “I don’t remember a father,” I told him. “I remember a grandmother? Or the idea of a grandmother? It’s all so blurry in my mind. Like I’m making up the idea that I was ever a child.” “According to the stories, you were a child.” “But are the stories just fabricated? Something made up because everyone needed to point to something for an explanation for this world.” “I can’t answer that,” Oswald said. “But maybe, when things calm down, it would be worth exploring. I would be happy to help facilitate some memory walking with you at a later date. When the market is a bit more stable, if you choose to stay, we could perhaps look into your past.” It was the only offer I had received to do so. Any other time I had brought up my discontent, it had been oddly forgotten. By others. By me. “May I suggest you take a few of these embers with you. If you continue to feed it, it will help light the way. An eternal flame of sorts.” “I would appreciate that, thank you.” Standing, he grabbed one of the broken lanterns with a large hook at the top. With iron tongs, he plucked a few of the embers and placed them inside. The emitting light was a soft blush, like a sunrise. “Speak with your friends tonight,” he urged. “The embers will keep. Then come see me. We will perhaps make a plan to set this world straight again.” “Thank you, Oswald,” I said, rising. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Malcolm's route]] <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Herald and Turner]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Deucalion]] <</if>>“I know I have a sister,” I told him. “But I keep forgetting about her. Or maybe I’m not supposed to remember her.” “Meaning?” I frowned. I hadn’t even said another about it out loud. Nona. Dear, sweet, Nona. She would kill us all. “I– I don’t know. It’s like it’s there but I can’t quite reach it. I– I should be concerned about that, right?” Oswald contemplated the question for a long moment. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s not time for you to remember.” Irritation swarmed me. Everything felt as if it was on a timer of some sorts. Like the world kept almost tipping me towards the truth before yanking me right back. He didn’t even look at me with any sort of pity. Instead, he gestured towards the pink flames. “May I suggest you take a few of these embers with you. If you continue to feed it, it will help light the way. An eternal flame of sorts.” “I would appreciate that, thank you.” Standing, he grabbed one of the broken lanterns with a large hook at the top. With iron tongs, he plucked a few of the embers and placed them inside. The emitting light was a soft blush, like a sunrise. “Speak with your friends tonight,” he urged. “The embers will keep. Then come see me. We will perhaps make a plan to set this world straight again.” “Thank you, Oswald,” I said, rising. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Malcolm's route]] <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Herald and Turner]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Deucalion]] <</if>>“None of this matters in the face of the world ending,” I told him. Creation. Sisters. Father Time. All of it meant nothing. Because in the end, I was the one here. The one trying to save the inhabitants that I had vowed to protect. Where were the rest of them. Wisely, Oswald didn’t comment on that. He didn’t even look at me with any sort of pity. Instead, he gestured towards the pink flames. “May I suggest you take a few of these embers with you. If you continue to feed it, it will help light the way. An eternal flame of sorts.” “I would appreciate that, thank you.” Standing, he grabbed one of the broken lanterns with a large hook at the top. With iron tongs, he plucked a few of the embers and placed them inside. The emitting light was a soft blush, like a sunrise. “Speak with your friends tonight,” he urged. “The embers will keep. Then come see me. We will perhaps make a plan to set this world straight again.” “Thank you, Oswald,” I said, rising. <<if $outlandsmal == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Malcolm's route]] <<elseif $outlandshandt == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Herald and Turner]] <<elseif $outlandsdeucalion == "true">> [[Next|Chapter Seven Deucalion]] <</if>> I left the hut, making my way back up the basin, walking around its perimeter and taking it all in. Unlike the area in which we had first arrived, this one was far more worn. The glitz of the raining lanterns and the broken glass were backdrops to colorful market stalls and an entire area of commerce that looked to be thriving. Here, where Oswald lived, things were more subdued. Children playing loudly in the dirt, the fires outside the huts burned brightly, and the impending doom that lay on the dark horizon was a natural part of life. These were the exiled. Another community given way to the whims of the Guard. I couldn’t help but think the market proper may be dying simply because it was time for it to do so. Leaving to head back towards the way I came, my thoughts were consumed. Small pieces were falling into place, but with each new bit of information slotted in my brain, a hundred other questions burst to life, floating on the breeze like little bits of dandelions. There was no way to contain them all, and they took root elsewhere, sprouting an entirely different path to take. I couldn’t do this on my own. I wasn’t meant to. And I had a feeling that that was how I had operated in life before I, $name, came into being. Turning back into the main part of the city, I looked up at the sky. The lanterns were raining down, landing softly into man-made trenches where individuals were sorting through them, picking out the good ones. For a moment, I could almost believe life was normal.The small reflections of light that this community had created. The ways in which everyone looked to be working together. For a moment, life looked to be normal. It took me a while to find Malcolm. I put to the test something I had been wondering for some time. Closing my eyes, I sought him out. Former Gatekeeper or not, he had been with me. Had talked to me longer than any others. There was a distant pull. Something like a faded sun. It was so far away though that the longing was more evident than the presence of the individual. I assumed it to be Milo. I could almost see him pacing the market proper. I pushed that one aside, searching for one that was far more near. I felt Malcolm not too far from me. Without opening my eyes, I let my feet carry me towards him. The sight I must have made as I wove through the glass strewn streets, walking blindly towards the hope of a man that I had know by voice long before I ever saw his face. I stopped when I felt the small pulse in my chest. A warming sensation that told me he was near. Without thinking, I reached out for his hand. It wrapped in mine, the smooth curve of his thumb coming to play against hte pulse of my wrist. “What are you doing, Lamplight?” “Finding you.” Opening my eyes, I was greeted with those honey coffee eyes. So near to my own. “Well done,” he said, his lips ticking in amusement. He didn’t let go of my hand. “I got us a place for tonight. Two lanterns were available. You get to choose the sleeping arrangements.” [[I’ll be bunking on my own]] [[I’ll bunk with you (Start romance with Malcolm)]] [[I think I'm going to go find Deucalion. Get to know him]] As I left Oswald, I wandered through the city, keeping my eyes peeled for Herald and Turner. I needed to update them about what was happening, and check on Turner. The man had me worried. As we had first entered the city, he had barely been conscious. I ended up finding Herald and Turner by accident. Mostly because I could hear Turner’s favorite word being tossed around like confetti. I hadn’t know the man for long but there was a distinct way that he spoke. A way in which most would cringe from. “I’m not fucking staying here! Fuck this place. Fuck this mission. And fuck all these people. What the fuck even is this town? Fucking glass falls from the sky and we’re supposed to ‘ooo and ah’? I’m gonna look up at get speared through the fucking eye!” I was just outside a large town square with treehouse sized lanterns. Some were hung up. Some rested on the ground. With a quick glance, I could see that each of them were equipped with a bed and a small folding kitchenette. They looked to be small hotel rooms of sort. And in the center of that square, a woman hovered near the looming form of Herald, and the curled form of Turner. Turner sat on a bench, hunched over, one hand grasping at his chest. Herald, on the other hand, was standing straight, looking at Turner with an expression that was clouded with worry. But he kept his calm demeanor. The uneven gait of his stance, more pronounced when he was standing still. “It’s very clean,” the woman who was hovering was saying. I took her as the owner of this establishment. Herald had said he wanted to find a place for Turner to rest. I was assuming that place was here. But Turner was not having it. “I’m fucking fine, Herald,” Turner said through gritted teeth. His skin had grown ashen and red rimmed his eyes, giving the illusion of blood. It was clear he was not fine. That he needed rest. Medical attention. But short of forcing him, I wasn’t sure how we were going to get him to lay down. Stepping into the square, I came close to Herald, trying to make my presence gradually known. The bigger man's eyes turned to me, nodding in greeting. “Is this where we are staying tonight?” I asked, trying to keep the gravity from my own tone. “No,” Turner said. “I’m not fucking staying here. I’m not…” he trailed off with a wheeze, bending forward. Herald came towards him, placing a hand on his chest and leaning in close. “Breathe, Turner. You can’t get worked up like this.” The woman didn’t look like she knew what to do. She was fluttering near the three of us, looking for all the world like she wanted to run. “Do we need to get him medical treatment?” I asked Herald. Turner was struggling to breathe, his eyes squeezed shut as he was mumbling something wordlessly to himself. Herald looked at me. “He just needs some place quiet. Not a lot of people.” I turned back to the woman. “Two rooms, please,” I told her. “We don’t have much to trade, but I am willing to work.” The woman shook her head. “That man already paid. I just didn’t know if I should go through with the transaction. Is your friend okay?” “I’m fucking fine,” Turner said. But his voice was weak and the vitriol behind his words were meager. I smiled at the lady. “Two rooms,” I repeated. [[Next|Chapter Seven Herald/Turner]] “Odd, isn’t it?” It was Deucalion's voice. He had come up behind me, standing a bit off to the right. There was a contemplative expression on his face that said he too had been traveling these streets. “We are told not to come out here. To not look at the monsters that lurk in the dark. And yet, it is becoming more and more apparent that the monsters we should fear are far closer to home.” I tipped my head to the side. “What do you mean?” “Where are the Barons?” Deucalion asked. “Why are they not doing anything? And why have they chosen to let something like the Velvet Guard, demonize the very souls that seem to be trying?” [[I’m not sure if the Velvet Guard can be considered the root of evil]] [[The Barons are corrupt]] [[There is something far bigger at play]] “I would prefer my own place,” I told him. “I want some place I can just pull up towards the stars and sleep dreamlessly for the entire night.” “Fair,” Malcolm laughed. “Want me to even wake you in the morning, or do you want to sleep in for a bit.” “No,” I told him. “Don’t wake me. Not until we know we need to get moving. After the Outlands, I feel like I haven’t slept in a week. I–” There was a tapping. At first, I thought there had been bells chiming in the market. They were distant and probably contained to one of the stalls we had passed. But they had then turned into the tap tap tap of a cane. I frowned, turning a bit, searching around for the sound of it. “You good there, Deucalion?” Malcolm called out. “We just got some rooms for the night. You can bunk with me if you don’t want to barter for your own.” “Afraid we won’t be sleeping here tonight,” Deucalion said, slightly out of breath as he reached us. “I have some bad news.” “That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear.” Deucalion tried to give me a sympathetic look. It wasn’t the news anyone wanted to wake up to in the morning. “Oswald says we need to leave today. The path back to the market is closing.” “What?” “We looked at the portents. Been doing some research on my own, too. We chose a bad time to come out here, I’m afraid. Because if we don’t go back now, we might not be going back for a long while.” I had just left Oswald. Not long ago, in fact. I believed that Deucalion was doing work on his own, but for him and Oswald to have already looked at the portents… “ Oswald was going to help us with the other lanterns. A ritual.” Our only lead right now was this big broken lantern in the middle of the cavern. And we didn’t know when the path to this city was going to open up again. “He still is. And the next time the path opens up, I can take you back out here,” Deucalion said. “But for now, if we stay, there is no telling how long we will be here. And I was given explicit instructions to bring you back to the market proper. I am not one to really go back on the job I was given.” “Are we running the risk of the path disappearing?” Malcolm asked. The idea of the way home falling away as we were traveling through the Outlands was not comforting. Deucalion looked like he was going to say no, but even he looked nervous about the trip that was before all of us. “Yes. If we go now, we have a chance,” Deucalion said. “But we have to go. Staying is just not an option.” [[I think we should stay]] [[There has to be a third way]] “I would like to share a room with you, if that’s okay.” Malcolm’s smile was secret. It was something coveted by those who knew him best. When he finally allowed one to truly break free, it was like a gift. “I would very much like that.” With my hand still in his, he led me towards the lantern in question. It was down upon the ground, hanging off kilter on a large chain rope looped around the bow of a tree. There was another one nearby that I assumed Deucalion would be utilizing. Malcolm helped me step inside before tugging lightly on a small paracord. I stumbled a little as the lantern began to rise, then, to my amazement, I got to see the City of Lanterns for what it was. The lanterns fell from the clouds above in a slow pace. Like dragging itself through molasses, they tumbled down towards the city, some of them disappearing from existence along the way. The ones up top flickered as they emerged from the grey clouds. Like they knew they should be lit but couldn’t muster the energy. By the time they reached the ground, they were no longer whole. But I saw it. I saw the care that the individuals of the Lost Lanterns put in to collecting these broken lights. The way they took the pieces and repurposed them as something new. Building huts. Roads. Small trinkets. The entire city was made from the shattered remains of something else, and it was beautiful when the moonlight caught its eye. “I can’t decide if the city makes me sad or gives me hope,” Malcolm said. [[Both]] [[It makes me sad]] [[It gives me hope]] <<set $malcolmro to "true">> <<set $malro to "true">>“Both,” I told him. “I feel both.” Sighing, I shifted a little, settling back more comfortably against the cool glass. “On one hand, the community that has formed gives me so much hope. The idea that these people fought. They did not give up. And not only that, but they protected the lanterns even though the world turned its back on them? I love that. It’s the exact kind of person I want to be ideally. A fighter. Someone compassionate. Warm. A //survivor//.” “And what’s the downside?” he asked, not forgetting that I had mixed emotions on it all. “The downside is that this place makes me sad. Not because of what they are doing, but because another part of this world, a part that I watched for most of my life, loved and protected, would rather see them cast out into the dark and forgotten.” “I don’t know if that is the individuals within the market so much as it is the Guard,” Malcolm answered. “Most don’t know what’s going on outside their own communities.” “But the ones who did, didn’t try to stop it.” He crossed his arms in front of him, muscles bunching and his tattoo’s stretching taut over his skin. “I don’t know if you can lump them all together, Lamplight. Most people are refugee’s in this realm. Most of them are just trying to survive their day. And I know, there is always room for people to do more, but I think the first source to look at is the structure that has been put in place to help. To separate right from wrong.” “The Guard,” I said. He nodded. “There is corruption there. You and I both know it. We’ve seen it. Now the question is, what is there to be done with that information. Is it salvageable? Is it even worth our time.” [[I'm afraid of what will take its place]] [[Like anything, there is good and there is bad]] [[The Velvet Guard is going to have to justify some things]] “It makes me sad,” I told him. What was happening within this city was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Seeing a community come together the way it did was everything I ever hoped for when thinking of this realm as my own. However, they had all been banished here. It needed to be remembered that these were the people that the Velvet Guard didn’t see fit to live with the rest of us. Take it or leave it, good or bad. “I just wish that it didn’t have to come to this.” “To what?” Malcolm asked. I could feel his gaze on me. “This kind of separation. The Market Proper versus the Outlands. I– I don’t know if I should believe that everyone here is some sort of convicted felon. Or did they just not fit into the Guards ideal way of living.” “Think you’ve got it on the nose with that one,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest, his tattoos stretching as his muscles bunched. “The Velvet Guard is an organization that has long been unchecked. And I’m not saying that their origin was bad. We needed some sort of order within the market. But what they have become is just another trade in for whatever was in power before.” My heart ached at the thought. At the very fact that nothing had been done about it yet. “I’m not sure what the answer is to all of this.” Malcolm tipped his head back, softly considering the dilemma. “I guess it all depends on how much you trust the Guard. If you want to keep the structure and just clean house. Or if you want to eliminate it completely and hope something better will form.” [[I'm afraid of what will take its place]] [[Like anything, there is good and there is bad]] [[The Velvet Guard is going to have to justify some things]] “It gives me hope,” I told him. “Maybe if there are people like this in the world, we can actually do something about our failings.” I turned to him. The lantern we stood in was spacious with a large bed in the middle. It was strewn with jeweled colored blankets, while the moonlight shining in through the glass bounced around in multicolored fractal patterns. “Today was a long day,” I told him. “Then sit,” he requested. We both went over to the bed, sitting with our backs to the curved glass wall and looking out over the city. Beyond the City of Lanterns, I couldn’t see the market. I thought maybe I saw the shadows of the beasts, but nothing more. “When I was younger, I used to climb to the highest point in the market to try and see if I could see what was beyond our walls.” I smiled a little. A flash of him as a child, long hair down his back, angrily muttering as he tried to get a foothold in the side of a building or a particularly steep wall. “I remember.” Malcolm chuckled a little, crossing his arms over his chest. His tattoos stretched with each muscle. “Do you remember what’s out here? You don’t have to answer, but I am curious. I was never able to really see.” I shook my head. “I’m eager to explore more. The good and the bad of this world. It’s what I came here for, after all. To experience life. And I don’t think you can experience the full scope of living with only good cupped in your hands.” “On paper, that is a good way of putting it,” Malcolm said slowly. “And I think I can objectively agree with you. But what happens when the bad outweighs the good? Because Lamplight, you’ve gotten a lot of bad happening to you since being here.” “I know.” “I don’t want it to change you.” I thought about that for a minute. Life experience changed everyone in its path. And I knew that the naive soul I had been would not be long for this world. Maybe pieces of that version of me would survive. But how much of that was needed. “What in particular do you not want to change?” I asked him, holding my breath. Malcolm shifted against me, his arm brushing mine. “It’s hard to explain. I could say your softness, but that’s not it at all. I like when you get riled up. I like when you are firm with your boundaries. I even like the occasional time I’ve seen you mad. I think what I don’t want to see go is your wonder. Your drive for the world in general. It’s been refreshing, really. To see someone looking at life with new eyes. I hope you don’t lose that.” There was assurance in his voice. Malcolm always gave off the idea of knowing more than he let on. Maybe he did or maybe it was carefully cultivated confidence. Either way, it was a pillar of comfort. “Thank you for coming with me.” “I would be by your side every second if I thought it was even the tiniest bit healthy.” Turning to him, I realized how close we were actually sitting. The light from the outside world spilled out across us in beams of blues, pinks and greens. It played across the tanned skin of his face, sharpening his cheekbones and reflecting in his eyes. “What have you been doing? When I’m not there, what is it you do to fill your days?” I suddenly realized, I didn’t know much about Malcolm. Not about his day to day. The things most people would consider mundane. “Draw,” he stated. “Or at least try to. My hand isn’t working as well since being back. It’s like my muscles have atrophied. I’ve been walking the city a lot. Trying to get used to being here.” “Are you still adjusting to life again?” He had been dead for ten years and then thrown back into a world that was tumbling into chaos. On top of that, he had to take the lead. A voice of reason in a very loud and chaotic dark. “I don’t think I’ve had the time to even think about it, really.” I frowned at that. Malcolm hadn’t spoken much about his time away from here. What it meant to him. Being back home and how he was feeling. I didn’t even know if he had wanted to come back. Perhaps he had been happily dead. Away from the trappings of life that had choked him for so long. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He looked at me strangely then. “Lamplight, I talk to you more than anyone.” “I don’t want you to feel forgotten,” I told him. “You woke up to everything you had tried to protect, suddenly in tatters. I can’t imagine that’s been easy.” He thought about that for a long moment, sinking back into the bed. The small patter of water against glass began to sound, and it took me a moment to realize that it was raining. Little shards of wet glass were coming down to coat the earthen floor and below, I watched as people scattered from the streets, some hissing as they were cut. “It’s not,” Malcolm started, “been easy. I don’t like to talk about it, but no. Sacrificing myself like I did… I don’t even know if I can consider it sacrifice. It was more the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was the one that created the scenario. I pushed until the pawns were all lined up. And then Milo and my sister watched me die, and I don’t think they recovered from it.” His hand was lying between us, his fingers pressed close to my thigh. Reaching down, I took them in my own, threading our fingers together. “And then the world,” he said, not even aware that I had taken his hand. “Before I had gone, I was working hard to change my life. The outlook I had on the world around me. Trying to talk to the Barons. Trying to figure out how to change the atrocities I was seeing. Because I figured out pretty quick that the bullshit line of the Gatekeeper being in charge of the gates was just that. Bullshit. Arguably, the Gatekeeper is bestowed with more power than any Baron. And yet, they were supposed to be sequestered away in secret, to do nothing in the public eye. To act in the shadows only. And for what reason? Given the amount of power I had, why was I expected to hide away and not help?” [[Someone, somewhere, wanted to exert control over the Gatekeeper]] [[Who made the rule to begin with?]] [[To protect you]] “I’m eager to explore more. The good and the bad of this world. It’s what I came here for, after all. To experience life. And I don’t think you can experience the full scope of living with only good cupped in your hands.” “On paper, that is a good way of putting it,” Malcolm said slowly. “And I think I can objectively agree with you. But what happens when the bad outweighs the good? Because Lamplight, you’ve gotten a lot of bad happening to you since being here.” “I know.” “I don’t want it to change you.” I thought about that for a minute. Life experience changed everyone in its path. And I knew that the naive soul I had been would not be long for this world. Maybe pieces of that version of me would survive. But how much of that was needed. “What in particular do you not want to change?” I asked him, holding my breath. Malcolm shifted against me, his arm brushing mine. “It’s hard to explain. I could say your softness, but that’s not it at all. I like when you get riled up. I like when you are firm with your boundaries. I even like the occasional time I’ve seen you mad. I think what I don’t want to see go is your wonder. Your drive for the world in general. It’s been refreshing, really. To see someone looking at life with new eyes. I hope you don’t lose that.” There was assurance in his voice. Malcolm always gave off the idea of knowing more than he let on. Maybe he did or maybe it was carefully cultivated confidence. Either way, it was a pillar of comfort. “Thank you for coming with me.” “I would be by your side every second if I thought it was even the tiniest bit healthy.” Turning to him, I realized how close we were actually sitting. The light from the outside world spilled out across us in beams of blues, pinks and greens. It played across the tanned skin of his face, sharpening his cheekbones and reflecting in his eyes. “What have you been doing? When I’m not there, what is it you do to fill your days?” I suddenly realized, I didn’t know much about Malcolm. Not about his day to day. The things most people would consider mundane. “Draw,” he stated. “Or at least try to. My hand isn’t working as well since being back. It’s like my muscles have atrophied. I’ve been walking the city a lot. Trying to get used to being here.” “Are you still adjusting to life again?” He had been dead for ten years and then thrown back into a world that was tumbling into chaos. On top of that, he had to take the lead. A voice of reason in a very loud and chaotic dark. “I don’t think I’ve had the time to even think about it, really.” I frowned at that. Malcolm hadn’t spoken much about his time away from here. What it meant to him. Being back home and how he was feeling. I didn’t even know if he had wanted to come back. Perhaps he had been happily dead. Away from the trappings of life that had choked him for so long. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He looked at me strangely then. “Lamplight, I talk to you more than anyone.” “I don’t want you to feel forgotten,” I told him. “You woke up to everything you had tried to protect, suddenly in tatters. I can’t imagine that’s been easy.” He thought about that for a long moment, sinking back into the bed. The small patter of water against glass began to sound, and it took me a moment to realize that it was raining. Little shards of wet glass were coming down to coat the earthen floor and below, I watched as people scattered from the streets, some hissing as they were cut. “It’s not,” Malcolm started, “been easy. I don’t like to talk about it, but no. Sacrificing myself like I did… I don’t even know if I can consider it sacrifice. It was more the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was the one that created the scenario. I pushed until the pawns were all lined up. And then Milo and my sister watched me die, and I don’t think they recovered from it.” His hand was lying between us, his fingers pressed close to my thigh. Reaching down, I took them in my own, threading our fingers together. “And then the world,” he said, not even aware that I had taken his hand. “Before I had gone, I was working hard to change my life. The outlook I had on the world around me. Trying to talk to the Barons. Trying to figure out how to change the atrocities I was seeing. Because I figured out pretty quick that the bullshit line of the Gatekeeper being in charge of the gates was just that. Bullshit. Arguably, the Gatekeeper is bestowed with more power than any Baron. And yet, they were supposed to be sequestered away in secret, to do nothing in the public eye. To act in the shadows only. And for what reason? Given the amount of power I had, why was I expected to hide away and not help?” [[Someone, somewhere, wanted to exert control over the Gatekeeper]] [[Who made the rule to begin with?]] [[To protect you]] “Like anything out there, there is good and there is bad. I’m sure the intention fo the Guard was good at some point. And for the most part, I think they do try to protect. But things have gone too far at times. They’ve lost sight of what is right and wrong. And I think there are too many people they are trying to please.” I nearly groaned with the idea of it all. The docks were horrendous. The buying out of people’s sentencing was likely a form of slavery. And the manhunt for those without papers bordered on obsessive. But then there were the countless hours of patrol to keep the market safe. The ways that those individuals of the guard volunteered each week to hand out food. To make sure individuals had homes. To help guide the elderly and the sick. There was genuine good there, too. It was hard to reconcile the two parts of the institution. “I just don’t know what to do,” I said softly. Malcolm, however, didn’t seem as confused. “We fight,” he said simply. “We stand up when we see something wrong and we encourage the good. Change won’t happen overnight. But it will happen.” There was assurance in his voice. Malcolm always gave off the idea of knowing more than he let on. Maybe he did or maybe it was carefully cultivated confidence. Either way, it was a pillar of comfort. “Thank you for coming with me.” “I would be by your side every second if I thought it was even the tiniest bit healthy.” Turning to him, I realized how close we were actually sitting. The light from the outside world spilled out across us in beams of blues, pinks and greens. It played across the tanned skin of his face, sharpening his cheekbones and reflecting in his eyes. “What have you been doing? When I’m not there, what is it you do to fill your days?” I suddenly realized, I didn’t know much about Malcolm. Not about his day to day. The things most people would consider mundane. “Draw,” he stated. “Or at least try to. My hand isn’t working as well since being back. It’s like my muscles have atrophied. I’ve been walking the city a lot. Trying to get used to being here.” “Are you still adjusting to life again?” He had been dead for ten years and then thrown back into a world that was tumbling into chaos. On top of that, he had to take the lead. A voice of reason in a very loud and chaotic dark. “I don’t think I’ve had the time to even think about it, really.” I frowned at that. Malcolm hadn’t spoken much about his time away from here. What it meant to him. Being back home and how he was feeling. I didn’t even know if he had wanted to come back. Perhaps he had been happily dead. Away from the trappings of life that had choked him for so long. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He looked at me strangely then. “Lamplight, I talk to you more than anyone.” “I don’t want you to feel forgotten,” I told him. “You woke up to everything you had tried to protect, suddenly in tatters. I can’t imagine that’s been easy.” He thought about that for a long moment, sinking back into the bed. The small patter of water against glass began to sound, and it took me a moment to realize that it was raining. Little shards of wet glass were coming down to coat the earthen floor and below, I watched as people scattered from the streets, some hissing as they were cut. “It’s not,” Malcolm started, “been easy. I don’t like to talk about it, but no. Sacrificing myself like I did… I don’t even know if I can consider it sacrifice. It was more the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was the one that created the scenario. I pushed until the pawns were all lined up. And then Milo and my sister watched me die, and I don’t think they recovered from it.” His hand was lying between us, his fingers pressed close to my thigh. Reaching down, I took them in my own, threading our fingers together. “And then the world,” he said, not even aware that I had taken his hand. “Before I had gone, I was working hard to change my life. The outlook I had on the world around me. Trying to talk to the Barons. Trying to figure out how to change the atrocities I was seeing. Because I figured out pretty quick that the bullshit line of the Gatekeeper being in charge of the gates was just that. Bullshit. Arguably, the Gatekeeper is bestowed with more power than any Baron. And yet, they were supposed to be sequestered away in secret, to do nothing in the public eye. To act in the shadows only. And for what reason? Given the amount of power I had, why was I expected to hide away and not help?” [[Someone, somewhere, wanted to exert control over the Gatekeeper]] [[Who made the rule to begin with?]] [[To protect you]] “The Velvet Guard is going to have to justify some things. I don’t know who I’m going to have to speak to, but everything needs to change, Malcolm. Absolutely everything. This is terrible.” “Careful, Lamplight,” he murmured. “Change is good. Change is needed. But remember that change has to come as a movement. Not as you dictating what needs to be done.” “But whose responsibility is it to get it started? No one wants to step up. And the few who maybe have, are now silenced.” “Not true,” he said. “We just haven’t encountered them. But there’s resistance everywhere. Little bits of change that seem insignificant but actually aren’t. People standing their ground and setting boundaries. You are not alone in all of this. At the very least, you have me. But I know you have so much more.” There was assurance in his voice. Malcolm always gave off the idea of knowing more than he let on. Maybe he did or maybe it was carefully cultivated confidence. Either way, it was a pillar of comfort. “Thank you for coming with me.” “I would be by your side every second if I thought it was even the tiniest bit healthy.” Turning to him, I realized how close we were actually sitting. The light from the outside world spilled out across us in beams of blues, pinks and greens. It played across the tanned skin of his face, sharpening his cheekbones and reflecting in his eyes. “What have you been doing? When I’m not there, what is it you do to fill your days?” I suddenly realized, I didn’t know much about Malcolm. Not about his day to day. The things most people would consider mundane. “Draw,” he stated. “Or at least try to. My hand isn’t working as well since being back. It’s like my muscles have atrophied. I’ve been walking the city a lot. Trying to get used to being here.” “Are you still adjusting to life again?” He had been dead for ten years and then thrown back into a world that was tumbling into chaos. On top of that, he had to take the lead. A voice of reason in a very loud and chaotic dark. “I don’t think I’ve had the time to even think about it, really.” I frowned at that. Malcolm hadn’t spoken much about his time away from here. What it meant to him. Being back home and how he was feeling. I didn’t even know if he had wanted to come back. Perhaps he had been happily dead. Away from the trappings of life that had choked him for so long. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He looked at me strangely then. “Lamplight, I talk to you more than anyone.” “I don’t want you to feel forgotten,” I told him. “You woke up to everything you had tried to protect, suddenly in tatters. I can’t imagine that’s been easy.” He thought about that for a long moment, sinking back into the bed. The small patter of water against glass began to sound, and it took me a moment to realize that it was raining. Little shards of wet glass were coming down to coat the earthen floor and below, I watched as people scattered from the streets, some hissing as they were cut. “It’s not,” Malcolm started, “been easy. I don’t like to talk about it, but no. Sacrificing myself like I did… I don’t even know if I can consider it sacrifice. It was more the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was the one that created the scenario. I pushed until the pawns were all lined up. And then Milo and my sister watched me die, and I don’t think they recovered from it.” His hand was lying between us, his fingers pressed close to my thigh. Reaching down, I took them in my own, threading our fingers together. “And then the world,” he said, not even aware that I had taken his hand. “Before I had gone, I was working hard to change my life. The outlook I had on the world around me. Trying to talk to the Barons. Trying to figure out how to change the atrocities I was seeing. Because I figured out pretty quick that the bullshit line of the Gatekeeper being in charge of the gates was just that. Bullshit. Arguably, the Gatekeeper is bestowed with more power than any Baron. And yet, they were supposed to be sequestered away in secret, to do nothing in the public eye. To act in the shadows only. And for what reason? Given the amount of power I had, why was I expected to hide away and not help?” [[Someone, somewhere, wanted to exert control over the Gatekeeper]] [[Who made the rule to begin with?]] [[To protect you]] “I’m afraid of what will take the Velvet Guard's place,” I confided. There would always be a grab for power. There would always be evil. To be able to covet the good for our own means was an impossible task. I didn’t even know if good could exist in the truest form that I would ideally hope for. There were just different moral shades of grey and I had to decide what line I was one. And even then, that line may not be anywhere near the ones who would take over the Velvet Guard if we were to dismantle them completely. I banged my head up against the glass. “Someone far smarter than you or I should be in charge of all this.” I could feel Malcolm’s smirk from my side. “I am far too much of a control freak to allow that.” “Then you do it. Take it all over.” “Lamplight, if I thought I was even remotely capable of making an unbiased decision, I would in a heartbeat. As it is, my only thoughts at the moment are how to help you and keep you safe and happy. I doubt that’s what’s good for the rest of the realm.” There was assurance in his voice. Malcolm always gave off the idea of knowing more than he let on. Maybe he did or maybe it was carefully cultivated confidence. Either way, it was a pillar of comfort. “Thank you for coming with me.” “I would be by your side every second if I thought it was even the tiniest bit healthy.” Turning to him, I realized how close we were actually sitting. The light from the outside world spilled out across us in beams of blues, pinks and greens. It played across the tanned skin of his face, sharpening his cheekbones and reflecting in his eyes. “What have you been doing? When I’m not there, what is it you do to fill your days?” I suddenly realized, I didn’t know much about Malcolm. Not about his day to day. The things most people would consider mundane. “Draw,” he stated. “Or at least try to. My hand isn’t working as well since being back. It’s like my muscles have atrophied. I’ve been walking the city a lot. Trying to get used to being here.” “Are you still adjusting to life again?” He had been dead for ten years and then thrown back into a world that was tumbling into chaos. On top of that, he had to take the lead. A voice of reason in a very loud and chaotic dark. “I don’t think I’ve had the time to even think about it, really.” I frowned at that. Malcolm hadn’t spoken much about his time away from here. What it meant to him. Being back home and how he was feeling. I didn’t even know if he had wanted to come back. Perhaps he had been happily dead. Away from the trappings of life that had choked him for so long. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He looked at me strangely then. “Lamplight, I talk to you more than anyone.” “I don’t want you to feel forgotten,” I told him. “You woke up to everything you had tried to protect, suddenly in tatters. I can’t imagine that’s been easy.” He thought about that for a long moment, sinking back into the bed. The small patter of water against glass began to sound, and it took me a moment to realize that it was raining. Little shards of wet glass were coming down to coat the earthen floor and below, I watched as people scattered from the streets, some hissing as they were cut. “It’s not,” Malcolm started, “been easy. I don’t like to talk about it, but no. Sacrificing myself like I did… I don’t even know if I can consider it sacrifice. It was more the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was the one that created the scenario. I pushed until the pawns were all lined up. And then Milo and my sister watched me die, and I don’t think they recovered from it.” His hand was lying between us, his fingers pressed close to my thigh. Reaching down, I took them in my own, threading our fingers together. “And then the world,” he said, not even aware that I had taken his hand. “Before I had gone, I was working hard to change my life. The outlook I had on the world around me. Trying to talk to the Barons. Trying to figure out how to change the atrocities I was seeing. Because I figured out pretty quick that the bullshit line of the Gatekeeper being in charge of the gates was just that. Bullshit. Arguably, the Gatekeeper is bestowed with more power than any Baron. And yet, they were supposed to be sequestered away in secret, to do nothing in the public eye. To act in the shadows only. And for what reason? Given the amount of power I had, why was I expected to hide away and not help?” [[Someone, somewhere, wanted to exert control over the Gatekeeper]] [[Who made the rule to begin with?]] [[To protect you]] “Someone, somewhere, wanted to exert control over the Gatekeeper.” It was the only thing that made sense. Why else keep the Gatekeeper so hidden while keeping the rest of the Barons in the limelight. They glorified the other leaders of the realm. Put them up on pedestals with their own districts and jewels. But the Gatekeeper was the boogie man that lurked in the dark. “Of that, I have no doubt,” he said with an irritated sigh. “But I just don’t see the gain in it. Whoever this person, or thing is, what is the point? The world has gone to shit. And I’m not just talking about recently. The signs had been there for a long time. And then everything that ended up happening with Milo makes no sense. If someone had such a vested interest in the Gatekeeper, why let him fail so spectacularly. Why let me come back to life knowing I would expose everything? Why never show their face or have a hand in any of the decisions that the Gatekeeper makes that ultimately shapes this world?” I had a soft sinking sensation burn in the pit of my gut. “Maybe they have shown their face. Maybe we just don’t know it yet.” Even in the dark, I could see Malcolm pale. “Well, there’s a horrifying thought.” It truly was. But how easily had we been tricked before. It would be naive to think that it couldn’t happen again. And this time, the reach of whoever was playing this game, extended far back, beyond our very scope. “I’m sorry,” he told me, tipping his head back. "This wasn't the conversation I thought we would be having. I'm just frustrated." “It’s okay to share those.” Malcolm looked down at our linked hands before lifting it, and placing a kiss to the back of my knuckles. His lips were soft and far more plush than I thought they would be. The feel of it tingled against the back of my hand, sending my heart skittering. He closed his eyes, keeping his lips pressed against my skin. “I am so happy you are alive,” he murmured against me. I swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of his words settle against me. They were exciting, despite the message. They were an indication of something new. “Why?” I asked. “Because sometimes I feel like I’ve waited for you my entire life.” [[I’ve been here all along]] [[I feel the same way]] [[Tell me more, please]] “Who even made that rule to begin with?” In fact, who made any of the rules? At some point, I was going to have to see if I could sift backwards and glean some amount of clarity as to why we followed the guidelines we did. None of the Barons seemed happy about it, and yet nothing had ever changed. “An Ancient, I would assume. Or someone not wanting the Barons to become like the Ancients.” “An Ancient. As in the ones before all of us?” He nodded. “The underground gods, so to speak. The ones that lived in the cities beneath our feet and died as we came up into the light.” I could hear the mocking nature in his voice. So much of the Night Market was steeped in lore that it was hard to tell what was story and what was history. It bothered him to no end. “I’m sorry,” he told me, tipping his head back. “I have nothing concrete to give you on this. It’s just my own frustrations coming out.” “It’s okay to share those.” Malcolm looked down at our linked hands before lifting it, and placing a kiss to the back of my knuckles. His lips were soft and far more plush than I thought they would be. The feel of it tingled against the back of my hand, sending my heart skittering. He closed his eyes, keeping his lips pressed against my skin. “I am so happy you are alive,” he murmured against me. I swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of his words settle against me. They were exciting, despite the message. They were an indication of something new. “Why?” I asked. “Because sometimes I feel like I’ve waited for you my entire life.” [[I’ve been here all along]] [[I feel the same way]] [[Tell me more, please]] “To protect yourself, I think. The power this job contains–” “Everyone would want it. There would be a target on my back. People could use me. No, I’ve heard it all before, but isn’t that the case with any Baron job? You think the vast majority of the world is looking at the Gatekeeper job with wide-eyed wonder? Or are they looking at Belladonna’s position, where she has political influence. Or the Book Barons who have more money than they know what to do with. Or how about Kamille, the one person that doesn’t answer to the guard at all and has created her own oasis. Power is power. Compared to the Gatekeeper, their’s all comes with a lot less responsibility, too.” “I guess I haven’t really thought of that before.” “I’ve thought about it too much,” he muttered. Malcolm was someone that kept his thoughts to himself. The machinations of his mind were a mystery to most. But in the quiet moments when I was with him, I could tell the wheels were turning. He was always thinking. Always planning. And I doubted that particular trait of his had gotten any better in the recent months. “I’m sorry,” he told me, tipping his head back. “I have nothing concrete to give you on this. It’s just my own frustrations coming out.” “It’s okay to share those.” Malcolm looked down at our linked hands before lifting it, and placing a kiss to the back of my knuckles. His lips were soft and far more plush than I thought they would be. The feel of it tingled against the back of my hand, sending my heart skittering. He closed his eyes, keeping his lips pressed against my skin. “I am so happy you are alive,” he murmured against me. I swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of his words settle against me. They were exciting, despite the message. They were an indication of something new. “Why?” I asked. “Because sometimes I feel like I’ve waited for you my entire life.” [[I’ve been here all along]] [[I feel the same way]] [[Tell me more, please]] “I’ve been here all along,” I told him. Malcolm and I had walked this earth at different times. We had been a near miss for so long now, but it didn’t mean that we had not been circling each other for eons now. He spoke to me before he knew I could speak back. I had searched for him even when he was not here. To hear that he had been waiting for me filled me with a softness I couldn’t explain. He laced his fingers within mine, ducking his head towards mine. “Not like this,” he told me. “This is different.” “New,” I told him. “Not different. New.” I could feel him sigh in relief, his shoulder slumping towards mine. “This is why I’m here, Malcolm. To //live//.” Outside, the wind blew just enough for our lantern to rock. The world was dimming with the onset of the night. I felt my body curl closer to him. “Are we going to talk about this?” Malcolm asked with a raised brow. “Define this.” His eyes ticked down my body before raising back up to mine with a delicately arched brow. I arched a brow back at him, matching his energy. “I haven’t wanted to say anything,” he told me finally. “I wasn’t sure if it was reciprocated.” [[I’ve been throwing myself at you]] <<if $miloro == "true">> [[This could get very complicated]]<</if>> [[It’s reciprocated. Believe me]]“I feel the same way,” I whispered. There had been something about Malcolm that had always attracted me. The world had been a terrifying place for some time but Malcolm had always been my grounding force. Even when he had not been there. Malcolm’s smile was soft as he scooted closer, his hand coming up to run along my arms. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “Why didn’t you?” He smirked, ducking his head down a little, fingers still playing across my skin. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. There was a part of me, too, that thought maybe I was seeing something that wasn’t there.” “You’re not.” What was overwhelming was the situation we were in. The way the world was tipping into the abyss and I felt like I stood between it and the darkness. Malcolm, however, was not a part of that. He was the force that kept me grounded in this world. Outside, the wind blew just enough for our lantern to rock. The world was dimming with the onset of the night. I felt my body curl closer to him. “Are we going to talk about this?” Malcolm asked with a raised brow. “Define this.” His eyes ticked down my body before raising back up to mine with a delicately arched brow. I arched a brow back at him, matching his energy. “I haven’t wanted to say anything,” he told me finally. “I wasn’t sure if it was reciprocated.” [[I’ve been throwing myself at you]] <<if $miloro == "true">> [[This could get very complicated]]<</if>> [[It’s reciprocated. Believe me]] “Tell me more, please,” I whispered to him, scarcely able to believe that our day was concluding in such a way. He smiled against me. I could feel the curve of his lips against the back of my hand. “I’ve always felt like a part of me was missing. That I didn’t fit in this world. I never felt like I was someone who made sense. I never felt like I had someone who cared without strings attached. And then I met you. I talked to the lanterns and I felt at peace. And having you here, now, fills in the missing parts of myself that I thought I would never have.” He pulled himself away, pulling my hand to press to his heart. If I could feel the steady beat of it. A staccato thrum that matched my own. “Is that enough?” he teased. “Or do you need me to wax more sentimental views of all the ways I think of you?” “I will never say no to more praise,” I grinned. Malcolm tipped his head back and laughed then. It was deep and throaty and so carefree. I wanted to bottle the sound and keep it with me on the darkest of nights. I was convinced it would relight the lanterns in the city. That the pure joy of it would recede the darkness cast onto the world. “Well then,” he grinned. “I will have to make more of a habit of doing so.” Outside, the wind blew just enough for our lantern to rock. The world was dimming with the onset of the night. I felt my body curl closer to him. “Are we going to talk about this?” Malcolm asked with a raised brow. “Define this.” His eyes ticked down my body before raising back up to mine with a delicately arched brow. I arched a brow back at him, matching his energy. “I haven’t wanted to say anything,” he told me finally. “I wasn’t sure if it was reciprocated.” [[I’ve been throwing myself at you]] <<if $miloro == "true">> [[This could get very complicated]]<</if>> [[It’s reciprocated. Believe me]]“I’ve been throwing myself at you,” I laughed at him. “I spend all my time with you. I wanted to bunk with you tonight. Every chance I get, I am close to you.” “Yeah, but I’m one of the only individual’s in your life right now you can touch.” I tipped my head to the side in amusement. “I feel like that should say something, Malcolm.” It was clear he hadn’t thought of it like that before. A small ounce of confusion flickered across his eyes until he realized what I was implying. “You can control it?” “No, but I think the fact that you somehow get past my barriers says something, don’t you?” Malcolm provided comfort on a much deeper level. I felt protected while around him. And in return, I felt emboldened. Like the world was not so hard to navigate, as long as I had his hand to hold. Scooting closer, I could smell the earthy scent of his cologne. The spicy smell of turmeric that was innately Malcolm. “What do you want, Malcolm? I need to know what it is you want to do going forward." “I think we should wait. Logic says we should wait." His eyes closed. “But I don’t want to wait. I want to be done waiting.” [[I think we should wait a little longer]] [[I’m done waiting too|Gender]] “This could get very complicated,” I told him. Milo. I had been with Milo. His ex or maybe current boyfriend? Partner? I wasn’t even sure what was going on between the two of them. They didn’t seem to like each other much to begin with. Malcolm shook his head. “This isn’t about him right now. It’s about you and me. What we want.” “But he’s still in the picture,” I said. “In a very messy kind of way.” “Lamplight,” He squeezed my hands tight, lifting his gaze to lock eyes with me. “I don’t know what is going on with Milo. I don’t know what is going on with you and Milo. I can tell you that whatever you decide about him, is your decision. Milo and I have always circled each other. We probably will for the rest of our lives. And we can talk about that. But right now, I want to talk about you. I want to //be// with you. I don’t want his feelings to enter into what we decide to do with each other.” “But after?” I asked. “I don’t know, yet,” he said. “I don’t know how to have that conversation. It’s a much larger one to have, I think. Would you rather wait and move things forward after we figure that out? We do not have to do anything tonight.” [[We'll deal with the consequences tomorrow|Gender]] [[I think we should wait a little longer]] [[I’m done waiting too|Gender]]“It’s reciprocated. Believe me.” “It just always felt like the wrong time” he confessed. “Not that there might be a right time, but I really didn’t want to overwhelm you. I didn’t want to rush anything.” Because Malcolm was far more concerned with everyone else and their comfort, than his own thoughts and needs. We had slipped down on the bed, facing each other on our sides. “Why would you think you would be rushing me?” “Oh, I don’t know,” he laughed softly. “Perhaps because you were dissipated for a long period of time. Unaware that you are the world in which we walk upon. Or maybe because everyone keeps looking at you like you are the savior. Oh, and your mind is cut off from your higher self.” “Just that, huh?” He grinned. “Just some small things, really.” Scooting closer, I could smell the earthy scent of his cologne. The spicy smell of turmeric that was innately Malcolm. “And now?” What did Malcolm want? I felt my heart in my throat, the idea that he was finally opening up setting me on edge. “Now?” His eyes closed. “Now, I just don’t want to wait. I want to be done waiting.” [[I think we should wait a little longer]] [[I’m done waiting too|Gender]] “I– is it okay if we wait a bit?” I asked him hesitantly. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to fall asleep with him at night. But I wasn’t ready for the level of intimacy that he was proposing. But when he reached out, bringing my curled hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across my knuckles. “Lamplight, I need you to know something. I want you. And that does not require the two of us to have sex. That doesn’t even require the two of us to define anything. I just want to build something with you. Get to know you. Explore what we are to each other. Is that okay?” “Yes,” I practically gasped. “That’s… I want that, too.” “Then breathe,” he laughed gently. “You look like you’re going to hyperventilate.” I felt the tension bleed from my shoulders then, not having realized just how tense I had become. I was worried he was going to reject me. Or that the moment would be spoiled. But in reality, I just felt closer to him than before. “Would you like to lay down with me?” he offered. I was tired. The journey and discovering the lantern had taken it out of me. So when we both fully laid down on the bed within the lantern, I felt myself practically melt into the mattress. Mal was close at my side, the warmth of his body seeping into my own. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day,” I told him. He reached out, running his fingers along my jaw. “I’m actually looking forward to it.” “Why?” “Because I get to do it with you,” he whispered. “I love you, Lamplight. I’ve loved you for a long time. Whatever happens doesn’t change that.” I felt my throat close up and my body curl closer to him. “I love you, too.” The smile that stretched across his face was one I would remember forever. It was that content grin that he got when someone complimented his art. On a rare occasion, I had seen it come out and knowing that my love for him evoked it made me want to say those words over and over again. My jaw cracked, however, as I let out a big yawn. “Get some sleep,” he chuckled, pulling me to him. I think I told him one more time before I closed my eyes. Maybe again as I was drifting to sleep. And as I slipped away in his arms, I knew I would tell him again and again for as long as I was able. [[Next|The Next Morning]] <<set $malsex to "false">>“I’m done waiting, too,” I told him. There was a softness to Malcolm’s eyes, his lids drooping as his breathing became deeper, holding me in the moment. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined we’d be doing this,” he confessed. In the middle of the Outlands, on a mission to relight lanterns that may or may not be tied to my livelihood. It wasn’t how I envisioned it either. “Part of the not waiting means that we don’t wait,” I reminded him. He moved towards me then, taking my face in his hands, his fingers cupping the back of my skull. I hadn’t noticed before how firm his hands were. They were soft and tapered, but dotted with callouses. These were the hands that sat for hours on end, drawing in small books, on spare pieces of paper and napkins. They were stained with charcoal half the time and now, they were gently guiding my jaw upwards so he could move in and capture my lips against his own. I moaned as Malcolm’s lips touched mine, feeling my heart stutter as he pushed himself closer. My hands came to his hips, gripping at the flesh there as I dragged him across my lap. The hard muscle of his thighs flexed in my palms and as he slotted himself against me, I could feel the heat from his body soaking into my own. “We probably need to have a talk,” he said, not being able to pull away from me for more than a few words. “About?” I gasped as his hands trailed down, pulling at my clothes until his fingers touched bare skin. They tickled across my belly, reaching upwards to rest against my chest where my heart beat. <<if $gender == "male">> “Do you prefer to penetrate or be penetrated?” [[Penetrate]] [[Be the one penetrated]] [[I can go either way]] <<elseif $gender == "transf">> “Do you prefer to penetrate or be penetrated?” [[Penetrate]] [[Be the one penetrated]] [[I can go either way]] <<elseif $gender == "female">> “I have a tattoo,” he said. “One that allows me to penetrate you. But if you prefer, we can just do things the old fashioned way.” “Old fashioned way?” I gasped. Malcolm grinned at me, his tongue swiping across my own as we hungrily tried to consume each other. “Yeah. Lot’s of sweaty grinding and fingers.” [[Use the tattoo]] [[Sweaty grinding]] [[What do you prefer?]] <<elseif $gender == "transm">> “I have a tattoo,” he said. “One that allows me to penetrate you. But if you prefer, we can just do things the old fashioned way.” “Old fashioned way?” I gasped. Malcolm grinned at me, his tongue swiping across my own as we hungrily tried to consume each other. “Yeah. Lot’s of sweaty grinding and fingers.” [[Use the tattoo]] [[Sweaty grinding]] [[Do you have a way for me to penetrate you?]]<</if>> <<set $malsex to "true">>“We’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow,” I told him. I understood it could be messy. There was an entire life waiting for us back in the market proper. People we knew. Lives that would be entangled in it all. But this, Malcolm and I here and now, felt right. So little in the world felt right anymore that I didn’t want to let it go. “We’ll deal with it together,” he promised. “Together.” He moved towards me then, taking my face in his hands, his fingers cupping the back of my skull. I hadn’t noticed before how firm his hands were. They were soft and tapered, but dotted with callouses. These were the hands that sat for hours on end, drawing in small books, on spare pieces of paper and napkins. They were stained with charcoal half the time and now, they were gently guiding my jaw upwards so he could move in and capture my lips against his own. I moaned as Malcolm’s lips touched mine, feeling my heart stutter as he pushed himself closer. My hands came to his hips, gripping at the flesh there as I dragged him across my lap. The hard muscle of his thighs flexed in my palms and as he slotted himself against me, I could feel the heat from his body soaking into my own. “We probably need to have a talk,” he said, not being able to pull away from me for more than a few words. “About?” I gasped as his hands trailed down, pulling at my clothes until his fingers touched bare skin. They tickled across my belly, reaching upwards to rest against my chest where my heart beat. <<if $gender == "male">> “Do you prefer to penetrate or be penetrated?” [[Penetrate]] [[Be the one penetrated]] [[I can go either way]] <<elseif $gender == "transf">> “Do you prefer to penetrate or be penetrated?” [[Penetrate]] [[Be the one penetrated]] [[I can go either way]] <<elseif $gender == "female">> “I have a tattoo,” he said. “One that allows me to penetrate you. But if you prefer, we can just do things the old fashioned way.” “Old fashioned way?” I gasped. Malcolm grinned at me, his tongue swiping across my own as we hungrily tried to consume each other. “Yeah. Lot’s of sweaty grinding and fingers.” [[Use the tattoo]] [[Sweaty grinding]] [[What do you prefer?]] <<elseif $gender == "transm">> “I have a tattoo,” he said. “One that allows me to penetrate you. But if you prefer, we can just do things the old fashioned way.” “Old fashioned way?” I gasped. Malcolm grinned at me, his tongue swiping across my own as we hungrily tried to consume each other. “Yeah. Lot’s of sweaty grinding and fingers.” [[Use the tattoo]] [[Sweaty grinding]] [[Do you have a way for me to penetrate you?]]<</if>> <<set $malsex to "true">> The morning dawned with Deucalion singing from outside. Slowly, I opened my eyes, hearing him whistle somewhere down below. It took me a moment to figure out where we actually were. Until I saw Malcolm next to me. He was still asleep, his hair down around his shoulders and his tanned arms curled beneath his head. Grabbing his shirt, I slipped it on over my head before peeking down below to where Deucalion stood. “Good morning,” he called up. “I have bad news.” “That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear.” Deucalion tried to give me a sympathetic look. It wasn’t the news anyone wanted to wake up to in the morning. “Oswald says we need to leave today. The path back to the market is closing.” “What?” “We looked at the portents last night. Worked through the night, in fact, to deal with what we could about the lanterns. But if we don’t leave soon. We aren’t getting back.” He was tapping his cane nervously against the side of his foot. “Is Malcolm up there with you?” “Yeah. Give us a minute and we’ll be down.” When I turned around, Malcolm was sitting up, his eyes still drowsy with sleep. The blankets pooled deliciously in his lap and suddenly I hated Deucalion for coming and interrupting us. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed with Malcolm. <<if $malsex == "true">>“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. “I like you in my shirt.” I walked over to him, kneeling by him in the bed. Lazily, he leaned forward, kissing me softly. When his fingers ran up the side of my face, walking around to cup the back of my head, I forgot about what we were doing. Instead, I sighed against him, leaning heavily against his chest. “I’m going to need to convince you to steal from my closet more often,” he murmured against my lips. “That, I can do.” We were in a state of bliss for a moment. The world falling away once more, the multicolored lights from the outside falling all around us. With my hands placed on his chest, I began pushing him back, the full intent to continue what we had done last night. Until the thought of Deucalion popped back in my head. <<elseif $malsex == "false">> "Morning," he said, voice gruff. I walked over to him, kneeling by the side of the bed. Lazily, he leaned forward to kiss me softly. Now that I had given him permission to do so, I had a feeling he was going to be stealing quiet moments like this whenever he could. "Morning," I responded to him. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to crawl back in bed and whisper to him beneath the covers. But Deucalion was literally waiting for us down at the bottom of the lantern.<</if>> Groaning, I pulled away from him. “Deucalion says the way home is closing. We have to go.” <<if $malsex == "true">>Malcolm frowned, but unlike me, was not tempted by the pillows and blankets surrounding us. Instead, he stood, pulling me up with him as he grabbed his discarded pants and put them on. He eyed his shirt, wrapped around my body. I quickly whipped it off my head, tossing it to him. Hungrily, his eyes trailed over my naked torso, a flicker of disappointment there when I covered myself back up with my own clothes. <<elseif $malsex == "false">> Malcolm frowned, but unlike me, was not tempted by the pillows and blankets surrounding us. Instead, he rolled out of bed, stretching. Neither of us had changed from the night before and we were both a little stiff from it. <</if>> [[Next|Chapter Seven 1]] In record time, we gathered our bags before lowering the lantern. The air was damp this morning. A cold sweeping in from the Outlands. Malcolm hopped out first, helping me down before looking at Deucalion. “How long do we got?” “Not long, my friend,” Deucalion replied. “Not long at all. We need to leave now.” “But Oswald was going to help us with the other lanterns. A ritual.” Our only lead right now was this big broken lantern in the middle of the cavern. And we didn’t know when the path to this city was going to open up again. “He still is. And the next time the path opens up, I can take you back out here,” Deucalion said. “But for now, if we stay, there is no telling how long we will be here. And I was given explicit instructions to bring you back to the market proper. I am not one to really go back on the job I was given.” “Are we running the risk of the path disappearing?” Malcolm asked. The idea of the way home falling away as we were traveling through the Outlands was not comforting. Deucalion looked like he was going to say no, but even he looked nervous about the trip that was before all of us. “Yes.” “Shit.” I shouldered my bag, trying to race through our options. While the safer option was to stay, there was no telling what was going to happen to the market while we were gone. If we tried to leave, we ran the risk of being lost in the dark. Neither option looked appealing. “If we go now, we have a chance,” Deucalion said. “But we have to go. Staying is just not an option.” [[I think we should stay]] [[There has to be a third way]] “I think we should stay,” I told him. “We’re here for the lanterns and if the path closes, then it closes. It’ll open again. Clearly, these people are getting things from the main market. There is always a third option when a problem arises.” <<if $companion == "deucalion">>“We don’t have time to look at another way,” Deucalion was saying. He came around behind me, trying to usher me from the bar, looking over his shoulder towards where the bartender had disappeared. <<elseif $companion == "herald">> "We don't have time to look at another way," he was saying. He came around behind me, trying to usher me away from the lanterns. "Herald and Turner are up there," I said. "I'll come back for them. We just need to get you through. That's what I was contracted to do.<<elseif $companion == "malcolm">> "We don't have time to look at another way," Deucalion was saying. He came around behind me, trying to usher me forward. Malcolm stepped betwen us though, arms crossed in front of him. "I think maybe you need to take a minute and talk to us," Malcolm said.<</if>> I looked around, trying to gather my thoughts. “People come and go from this place frequently. The commerce here is active. Maybe it's just a matter of going to another city for a night. Giving us more time here but allowing us to still get out before they close. Then we can travel to the market proper from there.” “No,” Deucalion said. “This is not an option.” There was something different about his voice. The soft lilt of his accent was harsher around the edges. There was a tone that rounded his syllables far more than the entire trip here. <<if $companion == "deucalion">> It was not the calm and carefree man I had spent the evening with before. <</if>> “Oswald didn’t say anything to me about the path closing,” I stated curiously. “We just learned about it.” “Belladonna told me that the path was open once a month like clockwork. No one has said anything about a time limit out here.” <<if $companion == "malcolm">> "And you would think that would be something Belladonna would mention. She wouldn't risk $name getting caught out here," Malcolm stated. Bella would have told us to wait, if that were the case. <</if>> “Every second we question this, is another moment we are going to lose. Don’t you want to get back to the market? Get back to the ones you love?” I took a large step back, hovering near Malcolm. “Deucalion, are you feeling alright?” “I’m a little worried about getting back to the market. A fact that you do not seem to be concerned about.” I looked at Malcolm. That wasn’t Deucalion. While I didn’t know the man well, he had not spoken an unkind word. Even when we were attacked on our journey here, he remained calm. Collected. A slight amount of humor in his voice at all times. There was none of that now. [[Maybe we should double-check the information about this path]] [[Deucalion, did something else happen?]] [[I think I would like to talk to Oswald first]] “No, there has to be a third way.” Options were rarely this or that. An either or situation was often the easiest to digest, but it didn’t mean it was everything. From the limited experience I had gathered in the Night Market, the third option tended to always be the better choice. “We don’t have time to look at another way,” Deucalion was saying. He was trying to lead us down the road, herding us forwards with his cane. Malcolm held up his hand, not having it. “We can think for more than five minutes,” he said. “Lamplight, what do you think?” I looked around, trying to gather my thoughts. “People come and go from this place frequently. The commerce here is active. Maybe it's just a matter of going to another city for a night. Giving us more time here but allowing us to still get out before they close. Then we can travel to the market proper from there.” Malcolm nodded. “We can talk to Oswald, too. Find out what he has found out.” “I know what he found out. I was with him the entire time,” Deucalion protested. “This is not an instant fix. Now please. Let us just go.” There was something different about his voice. The soft lilt of his accent was harsher around the edges. There was a tone that rounded his syllables far more than the entire trip here. “Oswald didn’t say anything to me last night about the path closing,” I stated curiously. “We just learned about it.” “Belladonna told me that the path was open once a month like clockwork. No one has said anything about a time limit out here.” “Every second we question this, is another moment we are going to lose. Don’t you want to get back to the market? Get back to the ones you love?” I took a large step back, hovering near Malcolm. “Deucalion, are you feeling alright?” “I’m a little worried about getting back to the market. A fact that you do not seem to be concerned about.” I looked at Malcolm. That wasn’t Deucalion. While I didn’t know the man well, he had not spoken an unkind word. Even when we were attacked on our journey here, he remained calm. Collected. A slight amount of humor in his voice at all times. There was none of that now. [[Maybe we should double-check the information about this path]] [[Deucalion, did something else happen?]] [[I think I would like to talk to Oswald first]] “Maybe we should double-check the information about this path.” There was something not sitting right with me. Something didn’t add up and with me not being fully awake, I felt off my guard. “You don’t trust me?” There was something in the way Deucalion tipped his head. My body revolted at the sight of it. “That’s not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. Malcolm took my hand immediately and yanked me back just as Deucalion lunged. His limbs were cracking to the side, not moving the way they should. As he looked at me, his head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the jeering look in his eyes lit up with murder. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the mans dark skin as he lunged at me. Malcolm and I both danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” <<if $malcolmro == "true">>Malcolm was holding onto me tight. “What the hell was he doing in Deucalion?” <<elseif $malcolmro == "false">> Malcolm was staring down at the inert form of the man who had guided us here. “What the hell was he doing in Deucalion?”<</if>> Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling us that the path to the market was going to close,” Malcolm said. “Trying to get us out of here now.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” We blinked at him together. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” I glanced at Malcolm. If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady m]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next m]]<</if>>“Deucalion,” I began. “Did something else happen?” He was supposed to just go to Oswald's last night. Though, I hadn’t seen the man as I came to the hanging lanterns. And once I was inside, I had blocked out the rest of the world until dawn. “I don’t think you are understanding the full scope of what will happen if our path to the market is blocked,” Deucalion said. “So, instead of continuing to be obtuse, put one foot in front of the other, and follow me.” “That’s not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. Malcolm took my hand immediately and yanked me back just as Deucalion lunged. His limbs were cracking to the side, not moving the way they should. As he looked at me, his head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the jeering look in his eyes lit up with murder. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the mans dark skin as he lunged at me. Malcolm and I both danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” <<if $malcolmro == "true">>Malcolm was holding onto me tight. “What the hell was he doing in Deucalion?” <<elseif $malcolmro == "false">> Malcolm was staring down at the inert form of the man who had guided us here. “What the hell was he doing in Deucalion?”<</if>> Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling us that the path to the market was going to close,” Malcolm said. “Trying to get us out of here now.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” We blinked at him together. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” I glanced at Malcolm. If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady m]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next m]]<</if>>“I think I would like to talk to Oswald first,” I said slowly. “Before we go.” “We don’t have //time//. What are you not understanding about this?” It was when Deucalion took a step forward, that I heard it. The small jangling of bells that haunted my dreams. It was on the wind, sounding from the earring that Deucalion now wore. “That’s not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. Malcolm took my hand immediately and yanked me back just as Deucalion lunged. His limbs were cracking to the side, not moving the way they should. As he looked at me, his head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the jeering look in his eyes lit up with murder. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the mans dark skin as he lunged at me. Malcolm and I both danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” <<if $malcolmro == "true">>Malcolm was holding onto me tight. “What the hell was he doing in Deucalion?” <<elseif $malcolmro == "false">> Malcolm was staring down at the inert form of the man who had guided us here. “What the hell was he doing in Deucalion?”<</if>> Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling us that the path to the market was going to close,” Malcolm said. “Trying to get us out of here now.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” We blinked at him together. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” I glanced at Malcolm. If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel m]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel m]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady m]]<<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next m]]<</if>><<if $miloro == "true">>Relief washed over his face, and I could see the panic that had etched at the corners of his eyes. He looked out of breath as if he had ran here instead of stepping through the door. <<elseif $miloro == "false">>Concern etched across his face as he stared at me, clearly still not knowing what was going on.<</if>> “You alright?” he asked. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the door suspiciously. I could see the keys hanging from his hips, his fingers coming down to play with the small bits of metal. “How the hell did a door get here? I didn’t put it here.” Oswald bowed, taking a step forward to introduce himself. “A predecessor of yours made it. And you never closed it.” <<if $miloro == "true">> Milo tracked his eyes over the man, stepping towards me unconsciously and putting himself between me and the priest. <<elseif $miloro == "false">> Milo looked the man up and down, measuring how much he was going to trust the man in the upcoming moments. <</if>> I could tell he wanted to dismiss the man completely, but Milo seemed to have learned a small amount of restraint lately. “Was I supposed to?” he asked Oswald. It struck me how little of the Gatekeeper job Milo actually knew. Oswald shrugged. “I would prefer it if you didn’t.” He walked up to the door and shut it, the light that was swimming from the other side being cut off. I stared at Milo then, outlined by the door. <<if $malsex == "true">> Malcolm stood a few feet from me. The night before came rushing back to me. The way that Malcolm’s skin tasted. How he held me after. “$name?” Milo asked. <</if>> I cleared my throat. “Thank you for coming. We need to go over some things. I need to show you the lantern. See if you can help.” His eyes glowed brighter at that. “You found one? You two actually found one?” I tried not to be offended at the surprise that was in his voice. “Lamplight did.” Malcolm said. He had a small smile of pride touching the corner of his lips as he approached me. Oswald cleared his throat. “Gatekeeper,” he said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Milo looked taken aback. “Uh, same?” “I am Oswald. Follower of the light. Keeper of the lanterns.” Milo stuck out his hand to shake Oswald's. The rings on his fingers glinted in the artificial light around us. “I don’t know what any of that means but that sounds kind of beneficial and cool.” Malcolm rolled his eyes, stepping away from us and muttering something to himself. The more he learned about the role he gave up to Milo, the more agitated he became. “Oswald,” I said, “I think I’m going to take Milo and Malcolm to the lantern. Is that okay?” “I think it would be a good idea for the Gatekeeper to get eyes on it,” Oswald said. “I will look after Deucalion.” Milo looked around for the man, suddenly on edge. “What happened to Deucalion?” Oswald locked eyes with me for a moment, leaving it to me to decide how I was going to explain this one. Then, he turned to his hut, the pink lights of the fire casting small rivulets of smoke to displace around his feet. Milo stared at me. “What happened to Deucalion?” Malcolm was already halfway up the basin, waiting for us. “Come on,” I said. “Walk with me.” [[Next|Chapter Seven Milo 3]] We met up with Malcolm, the glass crunching underneath our feet. Milo was looking around at the city, taking in all the little nuances. He could see the falling lanterns in the distance. The way the broken lights made up most of the city. And for the first time in a long while, he was able to look at light that wasn’t produced by candle. He reached out with his fingers, as if to touch it, before letting his hand fall back to his hip. Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands in his pockets. But he kept casting furtive glances at me. As the three of us fell into step next to each other, Milo gave off a nervous thread of energy. Whether that was because he was in a new place or because he was near me, I didn’t know. “So this is serious, yeah? Because, got to say, Mal showing up and pulling me towards a door I didn’t know about, made me think he was taking back the Gatekeeper role,” he laughed tightly. “If I was going to kill you, I’d just tell you,” Malcolm smirked. “And you’d thank me for it.” “The day I thank you for anything, Malcolm Albright, is the day the Deep freezes over.” He winced a little at that. “Which, actually, I think it might be.” “What?” I looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?” Milo tipped his head upwards, staring up at the sky. Both Malcolm and I’s eyes were trained roughly on him. We hadn’t heard a word from Kamille about there being an issue. “The influx of souls dropping in there, and the lack of lantern light, is making it cold. I saw ice floating out on the ocean the other day. Mal, you probably need to go check on Kamille. You're the one with the rapport.” For years, Malcolm and Kamille had been friends. Breaking the rules that Barons were not supposed to have communications with each other. “As soon as I get back,” Malcolm vowed. I could already see the thoughts tumbling in his head. We turned the corner, past the market and the raining lanterns. Down the steps and towards the cavern where the lantern was. It was a quiet trip. The tension was high, but the three of us said barely anything. Maybe we were gaining our bearings, or maybe we were trying to understand how to be in each other's presence again. But when we reached the cavern, the lantern coming into view, both Milo and Malcolm stopped. It stood before us in faded blue-green light. A monolith of an idol, having once protected us and now looking as if it would rather be forgotten to time. “Holy shit,” Milo muttered. “I didn’t know they would be that big,” Malcolm admitted. We stepped down until we were at the base. The edges of the lantern were broken in dark shards and inside, lay a small circle where a flame was meant to be. “So, do we just light this sucker?” Milo asked. “Not as easy as that,” I said. “According to Oswald, he’s been trying to figure out how to relight this one for years.” “And we’re just trusting this Oswald guy?” [[I don’t know what other option we have]] [[I think we should look into other things]] [[He’s a follower of the light]] “I really don’t know if we have another option,” I told him. No one was stepping forth with our eleventh hour plan. Most of the market was just struggling to survive. But this man was going to work with us. There was not a lot of people lining up and holding out their hand. Milo shook his head. “There is always another option. I’ll put some queries out. I’ll– I mean– you just met him.” “No, apparently I met him in previous lives.” It was news to both Milo and Malcolm as they looked at me. It was the first real confirmation we had that I had been here before. That if I somehow made it back to my higher self, there was a possibility of return if I wished. “Do you remember him?” Milo asked slowly. <<if $knowoswald == "true">> “Vaguely. I don’t remember a lot, but I do remember flashes of him. I think we may have been friends.” <<elseif $knowoswald == "false">> “No,” I admitted. “But I don’t remember much of anything from previous lives. And even when I do, I can’t really trust that it’s my memory.”<</if>> Milo just shook his head. “I really don’t like this.” “Look, Oswald is a part of a group who worships the lantern light. They protect it. Oswald has traveled around the market to find information of where the light comes from. How to maintain it. How to protect it. This man has far more information about the lanterns than any of us do.” “And you have proof of that?” Milo asked, still suspicious, his body vibrating within the broken cavern. [[Are you going to fight me on this?]] [[I promise I’m being careful]] [[Do you trust me?]] “I think we should look into other things. Not just rely on Oswald completely. But, so far, I have no reason not to trust him. But, we know how that’s gone for me before.” Milo’s lips pursed together, jaw flexing at the jab. “Let’s just keep him at a distance. Use his tactics if it seems right, but not let him into our inner circle.” “We have an inner circle?” Malcolm asked. It didn’t go unnoticed to any of us how fractured we all were. Much like the broken lanterns coating the ground. “He is a follower of the light. A known group, apparently, that tries to protect the lanterns. I’m not saying we go into this blind but we should at least look into them. It might open some other options for us, too.” Milo didn’t look opposed to the idea, but was still wary. At least that I could understand. “Have you seen any proof of this ‘light protection’?” “I’ve seen him do some pretty interesting things with light,” I told Milo. “And he knew who I was. He says he’s met me before.” “But anyone can say that, $name.” [[Are you going to fight me on this?]] [[I promise I’m being careful]] [[Do you trust me?]] “He’s a follower of the light,” I told Milo, watching to see if there was any recognition in his face. So far, neither Milo or Malcolm, both of them having lived most of their life in the Night Market, seemed to know what that was. “I don’t care if he’s a follower of pumpkin spice. I don’t know what that means for us or what that’s supposed to do other than give him a really great name.” "We can look into it more," Malcolm suggested. "Look into what?" Milo was quickly becoming exasperated. "Light religion? Oswald? Pumpkin spice?" I sighed. “There is apparently a group of people who worship the light. Try to protect it. Oswald has traveled around the market to find information of where the light comes from. How to maintain it. How to protect it. This man has far more information about the lanterns than any of us do.” “And you have proof of that?” “I’ve seen him do some pretty interesting things with light,” I told Milo. “And he knew who I was. He says he’s met me before.” “But anyone can say that, $name.” [[Are you going to fight me on this?]] [[I promise I’m being careful]] [[Do you trust me?]] “Are you going to fight me on this?” I asked him. I didn’t know if every turn was going to be greeted with Milo’s snark. His suspicion. His guilt that had manifested into an overprotected stance that allowed us to do nothing. “I’m not arguing with you,” he practically yelled. His voice echoed, a bit of glass falling. His hands clenched and unclenched at his side. “Uh huh.” I looked at him pointedly. “Someone needs to tell you how it is, $name. I’m not here to hold your hand.” “That would be because you physically can’t,” I told him. If Milo was going to act like this, then I would fight his fire with fire. Not be the shivering dog in the corner that he could ignore. Taking a step away from me, Milo began circling the lantern. The ringing sound that greeted us echoed hauntingly in the empty room. There was an eerie quiet to the place. It made me uncomfortable. As if the lantern itself did not want me here. “Do you two feel that?” I turned to them both in turn. “Like the lanterns are trying to push us away.” Maybe they didn't like how we spoke to each other. Or maybe they just didn't like us. Milo swallowed thickly. “I feel it,” he whispered. “I– it hurts. Like a burning in my gut.” I eyed Malcolm, not seeing the same conflict in his eyes that I could see in Milo. “What about you?” Malcolm was looking at the both of us in concern. “I don’t feel it. Maybe faintly. I don’t think I’m actively connected to the market anymore. Not like you two.” Malcolm took a moment to observe the broken glass, his eyes traveling up and down the cracks. Slowly, he shook his head. There was a sense of heartbreak that he couldn’t connect any longer like he once had. “There’s a deeper problem here,” I told the two of them. “This feeling of isolation that I am getting. Fear. I– I don’t know if that’s the lantern protecting itself or if that's something coming from all of us.” “Does it matter?” Milo asked. “The lights need to come back on.” “Should have thought of that before,” Malcolm muttered. “Have something you want to say, Mal?” Milo sneered. “Or do you just want to be a bitch in the background.” Malcolm pointed to behind all of us. “That door should have been closed. We are lucky we got access here for what we are doing but how many doors have been kept open, Milo? How many people are getting around in the dark, taking advantage of people?” A cigarette was tucked behind Milo’s ear. He almost reached up to grab it. When he caught me watching, he stopped. “I’ve closed the ones I’ve opened,” he stated. “And none of the ones the other Gatekeepers have? The ones that I had opened when I died, are they still there?” “I didn’t know I was supposed to close them, Mal. It’s not like this all came with a manual. Sounds like it should have, but I got screwed over by the Fate’s so fuck me I guess.” “I don’t need you two arguing right now,” I stated, stepping forward. “I’m also not going to fight with the two of you to stop. So, either leave or stay and help. Your choice. But we aren’t doing this.” Milo closed his eyes, looking just as tired as I felt. “It’s just how we talk to each other, $name.” [[I don’t like it]] [[It’s not productive]] [[It’s what you two do because you won’t face your past]] “Milo, I promise I’m being careful,” I told him. “How am I supposed to trust that?” he asked, hurt coloring his voice. “Fuck, $name. You were being careful with me and look what happened. I– I’m telling you, you don’t always see the belly of the beast. The fact that I’m even standing here right now should be proof of that.” I tipped my head to the side. “So are you trying to protect me from Oswald? Or from you.” He had no answer to that. How could he? The guilt was running rampant in him and the hurt was an undercurrent in me. It made for a harsh table to sit and have a conversation at. Milo stepped forward, beginning to circle the lantern. He ran his hands over the glass, tapping his signet ring against it. The ringing sound that greeted us echoed hauntingly in the empty room. There was an eerie quiet to the place. It made me uncomfortable. As if the lantern itself did not want me here. “Do you two feel that?” I turned to them both in turn. “Like the lanterns are trying to push us away.” Milo swallowed thickly. “I feel it,” he whispered. “I– it hurts. Like a burning in my gut.” I eyed Malcolm, not seeing the same conflict in his eyes that I could see in Milo. “What about you?” Malcolm was looking at the both of us in concern. “I don’t feel it. Maybe faintly. I don’t think I’m actively connected to the market anymore. Not like you two.” Malcolm took a moment to observe the broken glass, his eyes traveling up and down the cracks. Slowly, he shook his head. There was a sense of heartbreak that he couldn’t connect any longer like he once had. “There’s a deeper problem here,” I told the two of them. “This feeling of isolation that I am getting. Fear. I– I don’t know if that’s the lantern protecting itself or if that's something coming from all of us.” “Does it matter?” Milo asked. “The lights need to come back on.” “Should have thought of that before,” Malcolm muttered. “Have something you want to say, Mal?” Milo sneered. “Or do you just want to be a bitch in the background.” Malcolm pointed to behind all of us. “That door should have been closed. We are lucky we got access here for what we are doing but how many doors have been kept open, Milo? How many people are getting around in the dark, taking advantage of people?” A cigarette was tucked behind Milo’s ear. He almost reached up to grab it. When he caught me watching, he stopped. “I’ve closed the ones I’ve opened,” he stated. “And none of the ones the other Gatekeepers have? The ones that I had opened when I died, are they still there?” “I didn’t know I was supposed to close them, Mal. It’s not like this all came with a manual. Sounds like it should have, but I got screwed over by the Fate’s so fuck me I guess.” “I don’t need you two arguing right now,” I stated, stepping forward. “I’m also not going to fight with the two of you to stop. So, either leave or stay and help. Your choice. But we aren’t doing this.” Milo closed his eyes, looking just as tired as I felt. “It’s just how we talk to each other, $name.” [[I don’t like it]] [[It’s not productive]] [[It’s what you two do because you won’t face your past]] “Milo, do you trust me?” It was about breaking the cycle with Milo. Pushing him out of the spiral he got himself in. The shock on his face caused him to take a step back. Milo was used to arguments. Someone fighting him every second of the day. He had been on alert since he was a child and didn’t know what to do when someone wasn’t actively against him. “I–” He frowned, rubbing a hand across his face. I think he knew that he was caught. “Of course I trust you.” “Then trust me on this. I like Oswald. I think he can help us.I don’t think that we need to close our eyes to other help. I just need you to be on the same page as me so we can actually get something done.” Going forward, I needed all of us to work together. We didn’t have a lot of time left. Milo stepped forward, beginning to circle the lantern. He ran his hands over the glass, tapping his signet ring against it. The ringing sound that greeted us echoed hauntingly in the empty room. There was an eerie quiet to the place. It made me uncomfortable. As if the lantern itself did not want me here. “Do you two feel that?” I turned to them both in turn. “Like the lanterns are trying to push us away.” Milo swallowed thickly. “I feel it,” he whispered. “I– it hurts. Like a burning in my gut.” I eyed Malcolm, not seeing the same conflict in his eyes that I could see in Milo. “What about you?” Malcolm was looking at the both of us in concern. “I don’t feel it. Maybe faintly. I don’t think I’m actively connected to the market anymore. Not like you two.” Malcolm took a moment to observe the broken glass, his eyes traveling up and down the cracks. Slowly, he shook his head. There was a sense of heartbreak that he couldn’t connect any longer like he once had. “There’s a deeper problem here,” I told the two of them. “This feeling of isolation that I am getting. Fear. I– I don’t know if that’s the lantern protecting itself or if that's something coming from all of us.” “Does it matter?” Milo asked. “The lights need to come back on.” “Should have thought of that before,” Malcolm muttered. “Have something you want to say, Mal?” Milo sneered. “Or do you just want to be a bitch in the background.” Malcolm pointed to behind all of us. “That door should have been closed. We are lucky we got access here for what we are doing but how many doors have been kept open, Milo? How many people are getting around in the dark, taking advantage of people?” A cigarette was tucked behind Milo’s ear. He almost reached up to grab it. When he caught me watching, he stopped. “I’ve closed the ones I’ve opened,” he stated. “And none of the ones the other Gatekeepers have? The ones that I had opened when I died, are they still there?” “I didn’t know I was supposed to close them, Mal. It’s not like this all came with a manual. Sounds like it should have, but I got screwed over by the Fate’s so fuck me I guess.” “I don’t need you two arguing right now,” I stated, stepping forward. “I’m also not going to fight with the two of you to stop. So, either leave or stay and help. Your choice. But we aren’t doing this.” Milo closed his eyes, looking just as tired as I felt. “It’s just how we talk to each other, $name.” [[I don’t like it]] [[It’s not productive]] [[It’s what you two do because you won’t face your past]] “I don’t like it,” I told them. “It’s exhausting. It’s hard to listen to.” Their constant bickering was grinding against me, causing me to lose focus. Hurting me in ways I didn’t think they understood. <<if $miloro == "true">> And it makes me feel like I’m not even in the room. “$name,” Milo started. He looked horrified at the revelation. When he glanced at Malcolm, the same expression shone in his eyes <<elseif $malcolmro == "true">> And it makes me feel like I’m not even in the room. “Lamplight,” Malcolm started, looking terrified. Even Milo looked shocked at the revelation. <</if>> Both of them stared at me, at a loss for what to say. They lived a far more solitary life than most would think. Hazel had only ever been the other one consistently around. I wondered if they even knew how much they got on each others nerves. “Just– just try to treat this for what it is. This isn’t personal right now. We are trying to save the market. Not your relationship.” Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t exactly what I had intended to say, but it was all true. Two men that used to love each other, or so they said, falling in love with the same person. They didn’t know what to do with that. They didn’t know where the other one stood. And I was wondering if they both thought they were in competition. Milo took a step towards Malcolm, and though his body was tense, he was trying. “Okay. What do you need from us? What has Oswald suggested we do.” I tried to hide my surprise that he had complied. “He hasn’t come up with a suggestion yet. But he can create light. I’m wondering if we can transfer it here. Start the light up again.” “But then we still have the problem of keeping it lit,” Malcolm said. “And I’m not sure if that translates into the rest of the market lighting back up.” “If all of them are lit, it’s supposed to.” As long as the five main lanterns were burning bright, the magic should have held. “And the light that I’m seeing Oswald produce does look like magic. And if it comes from me, then it stands to reason it would be imbued with what the Night Market actually is.” Milo looked down at his own hands. His right hand was hovering near his key ring where the unused keys to different doors jangled. Glancing at Malcolm, he picked up a key. “Could this help?” he asked. “Opening a door?” “No. Giving $name a key. Barons get their power by the Night Market’s blessing, yeah? So wouldn’t this be helpful?” Malcolm actually looked a little impressed. Like he hadn’t thought of it before. Or maybe he just hadn’t thought of it in terms of Milo. “Before I died, Kamille and I were talking. I had been taking bits of myself to close certain doors that refused to shut.” “Bits of yourself?” I had a sinking sensation in my gut. Malcolm nodded. “I had to take strips of my skin to patch up the more problematic doors.” “Fucking what?” Milo’s eyes grew wide. While my own just stared at Malcolm with a sickening terror. “What the fuck do you mean strips of skin? Who the fuck does that, Mal?” Malcolm was unfazed. “We’ll talk about that later,” he dismissed. “But, I think you are on the right path, Milo. Some of your magic, mixed in with $name’s, could be beneficial. Incredibly beneficial, in fact. I think we could get a lantern relit with Oswald's help. He knows the prayers and the rituals of the ancients. $name has a certain amount of the world's origin magic and you have a constant flow and connection back to the source by being a Baron. If you two take part in the ritual, I think we’ll get everything working again.” Milo blinked at him. “Strips of skin,” he repeated. Malcolm, being Malcolm, was trying his best to ignore him. [[I’d let it go for now]] [[I wasn’t going to let it go]] “It’s not productive,” I told him, turning my attention to the both of them. “You two bicker at each other and snap and you act like you were the only ones hurt and yet you were not. A lot of people have been hurt. A lot more are being hurt. The world does not revolve around you two and you both need to understand that now because I don’t want to be a part of it.” “We’re not trying to make you a part of it, Lamplight,” Malcolm told me gently. But I didn’t think he even believed his words. “You’re not?” I asked with a raised brow. “Then prove it.” Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t exactly what I had intended to say, but it was all true. Two men that used to love each other, or so they said, falling in love with the same person. They didn’t know what to do with that. They didn’t know where the other one stood. And I was wondering if they both thought they were in competition. Milo took a step towards Malcolm, and though his body was tense, he was trying. “Okay. What do you need from us? What has Oswald suggested we do.” I tried to hide my surprise that he had complied. “He hasn’t come up with a suggestion yet. But he can create light. I’m wondering if we can transfer it here. Start the light up again.” “But then we still have the problem of keeping it lit,” Malcolm said. “And I’m not sure if that translates into the rest of the market lighting back up.” “If all of them are lit, it’s supposed to.” As long as the five main lanterns were burning bright, the magic should have held. “And the light that I’m seeing Oswald produce does look like magic. And if it comes from me, then it stands to reason it would be imbued with what the Night Market actually is.” Milo looked down at his own hands. His right hand was hovering near his key ring where the unused keys to different doors jangled. Glancing at Malcolm, he picked up a key. “Could this help?” he asked. “Opening a door?” “No. Giving $name a key. Barons get their power by the Night Market’s blessing, yeah? So wouldn’t this be helpful?” Malcolm actually looked a little impressed. Like he hadn’t thought of it before. Or maybe he just hadn’t thought of it in terms of Milo. “Before I died, Kamille and I were talking. I had been taking bits of myself to close certain doors that refused to shut.” “Bits of yourself?” I had a sinking sensation in my gut. Malcolm nodded. “I had to take strips of my skin to patch up the more problematic doors.” “Fucking what?” Milo’s eyes grew wide. While my own just stared at Malcolm with a sickening terror. “What the fuck do you mean strips of skin? Who the fuck does that, Mal?” Malcolm was unfazed. “We’ll talk about that later,” he dismissed. “But, I think you are on the right path, Milo. Some of your magic, mixed in with $name’s, could be beneficial. Incredibly beneficial, in fact. I think we could get a lantern relit with Oswald's help. He knows the prayers and the rituals of the ancients. $name has a certain amount of the world's origin magic and you have a constant flow and connection back to the source by being a Baron. If you two take part in the ritual, I think we’ll get everything working again.” Milo blinked at him. “Strips of skin,” he repeated. Malcolm, being Malcolm, was trying his best to ignore him. [[I’d let it go for now]] [[I wasn’t going to let it go]] “No, it’s what you two do because you won’t face your past. Because you both try so hard to avoid the fact that you were once in a relationship, and it ended badly. <<if $miloro == "true">> Now you’re in a weird state of limbo with me and each other.” “$name,” Milo started. I held up my hand. “No. It’s not up for discussion right now. But I’m telling you this. The bickering is going to get old. It’s going to make me uncomfortable. I’m stating it to you two now so you can do something about it.” Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t exactly what I had intended to say, but it was all true. Two men that used to love each other, or so they said, falling in love with the same person. <<elseif $malcolmro == "true">>Now you’re in a weird state of limbo with me and each other.” “Lamplight,” Malcolm started. I held up my hand. “No. It’s not up for discussion right now. But I’m telling you this. The bickering is going to get old. It’s going to make me uncomfortable. I’m stating it to you two now so you can do something about it.” Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t exactly what I had intended to say, but it was all true. Two men that used to love each other, or so they said, falling in love with the same person. <</if>>They didn’t know what to do with that. They didn’t know where the other one stood. And I was wondering if they both thought they were in competition. Milo took a step towards Malcolm, and though his body was tense, he was trying. “Okay. What do you need from us? What has Oswald suggested we do.” I tried to hide my surprise that he had complied. “He hasn’t come up with a suggestion yet. But he can create light. I’m wondering if we can transfer it here. Start the light up again.” “But then we still have the problem of keeping it lit,” Malcolm said. “And I’m not sure if that translates into the rest of the market lighting back up.” “If all of them are lit, it’s supposed to.” As long as the five main lanterns were burning bright, the magic should have held. “And the light that I’m seeing Oswald produce does look like magic. And if it comes from me, then it stands to reason it would be imbued with what the Night Market actually is.” Milo looked down at his own hands. His right hand was hovering near his key ring where the unused keys to different doors jangled. Glancing at Malcolm, he picked up a key. “Could this help?” he asked. “Opening a door?” “No. Giving $name a key. Barons get their power by the Night Market’s blessing, yeah? So wouldn’t this be helpful?” Malcolm actually looked a little impressed. Like he hadn’t thought of it before. Or maybe he just hadn’t thought of it in terms of Milo. “Before I died, Kamille and I were talking. I had been taking bits of myself to close certain doors that refused to shut.” “Bits of yourself?” I had a sinking sensation in my gut. Malcolm nodded. “I had to take strips of my skin to patch up the more problematic doors.” “Fucking what?” Milo’s eyes grew wide. While my own just stared at Malcolm with a sickening terror. “What the fuck do you mean strips of skin? Who the fuck does that, Mal?” Malcolm was unfazed. “We’ll talk about that later,” he dismissed. “But, I think you are on the right path, Milo. Some of your magic, mixed in with $name’s, could be beneficial. Incredibly beneficial, in fact. I think we could get a lantern relit with Oswald's help. He knows the prayers and the rituals of the ancients. $name has a certain amount of the world's origin magic and you have a constant flow and connection back to the source by being a Baron. If you two take part in the ritual, I think we’ll get everything working again.” Milo blinked at him. “Strips of skin,” he repeated. Malcolm, being Malcolm, was trying his best to ignore him. [[I’d let it go for now]] [[I wasn’t going to let it go]] I’d let it go for now. Mainly because I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond. Hearing that he wove his own flesh into magic spoke volumes of who he had been raised by. It wasn’t something I wanted to see him continuing but at the same time, I needed to understand it more. To just dismiss Malcolm without having a conversation about it first wouldn’t be productive. It also didn’t feel right to tell him what to do. The conversation could wait until we were in the middle of a different city, trying to battle with lighting a lantern. There was disappointment in Milo’s eyes when I turned away from the revelation but he also didn’t say anything more. Milo cleared his throat, his face wrecked with the knowledge he was still processing. “Let’s deal with this lantern. I think we all need to go home.” I couldn't disagree with him. “We should go back to Oswald. Get the ritual underway. And check on Deucalion. We have more than one problem we need to deal with right now.” That brought Malcolm back to us. I saw the warring irritation and past emotions slip from his face as he remembered the way that Deucalion had twisted before us. How he tried coaxing us away from safety to bury us beneath the sands. “What problem?” Milo asked. “I know you two are keeping something from me. What is it?” [[Taliesin is back, but I don’t think we should worry too much]] [[Taliesin is back, and I don’t know how much we should worry]] [[Taliesin is back, and I think we need to take the situation seriously]] “Malcolm,” I started. “That’s not something you can just say and expect us to move on from.” I knew that Malcolm’s time as the Gatekeeper had been short. Shrouded in mystery. He had stuck to the shadows and had cast aside anyone that had been in his life. Milo. Hazel. Any acquaintances he may have known. He had only had me during that time. “It’s in the past,” he told us. “It wasn’t ideal, but it’s the only option I had at the time.” “Why would you even think that an option?” Milo asked, coming to stand by me. “Harming yourself should never be an option.” “Because,” he said, voice tight. “It //was// the only option. It wasn’t like I started peeling skin off my arms for the fun of it.” “Why would you have even thought to do something like that?” I asked him. I didn’t want to know the answer. The very idea of Malcolm peeling off his own flesh to close the doors made my stomach roll into a knot. Malcolm’s answer was one of shame. “I was experimenting with things to keep the doors shut. There were these doors that were opening at the time, that were letting in this black light. Almost as if the sky was opening up and sucking in everything around it. I would go and close it like normal, but then it would pop back open. I knew I needed strong magic and I had none available to me. None that was stronger than my own. So, I cut my hand open and used my blood. But that wasn’t efficient enough, so I kept going and used my skin. Small layers. Most of the time it felt like a bad sunburn.” “Fuckin’ hell,” Milo muttered, needing to walk away for a short moment. Malcolm wasn’t looking at me. The lantern was behind him, a reminder of the desolate world we now walked in. The things Malcolm had to sacrifice for this realm, for me, was unimaginable. He had died. He had lost everything. He had made sure to come back and jump back into it the second he opened his eyes. Before, even. But somewhere along the way, I think he may have become lost. [[I understand why you did what you did]] [[Going forward, that is not what we are doing]] [[Malcolm, we will need to talk about this more later]] “I understand why you did what you did,” I told him gently. Impossible decisions were too hard to face alone. And Malcolm had always been alone. We were lucky it had not turned into something so much more. “I don’t like it,” I told him, “but I do understand it.” “Lamplight…” He didn’t finish his sentence, however. He didn’t even know how. “We’ll talk about it,” I told him. “Find some solutions. I want to be able to hear about it, Malcolm. Hear about all of it at that time.” Malcolm swallowed, looking uncertain. “You might have to be patient with me about that one.” “I can do that,” I told him. <<if $malcolmro == "true">> “I can be as patient s you need me to be. I care too much about you to let you sit in your hurt.<</if>> From behind us, Milo cleared his throat, his face wrecked with the knowledge he was still processing. “Let’s deal with this lantern. I think we all need to go home.” I couldn't disagree with him. “We should go back to Oswald. Get the ritual underway. And check on Deucalion. We have more than one problem we need to deal with right now.” That brought Malcolm back to us. I saw the warring irritation and past emotions slip from his face as he remembered the way that Deucalion had twisted before us. How he tried coaxing us away from safety to bury us beneath the sands. “What problem?” Milo asked. “I know you two are keeping something from me. What is it?” [[Taliesin is back, but I don’t think we should worry too much]] [[Taliesin is back, and I don’t know how much we should worry]] [[Taliesin is back, and I think we need to take the situation seriously]] “Going forward, that is now how we are going to do things,” I told him. There was a line. We had to draw it somewhere. Our bodies, our very lives, needed to be that line. “Malcolm, there are other options. There are always other options. Experimenting with your body for a solution is not acceptable.” He was looking at me with a blank face, hiding behind that passivity that he had learned so long ago at the hands of his mother. “Alright, Lamplight.” I didn’t think he was outwardly lying to me. Not purposefully. Malcolm would do anything for me. But if my life was in jeopardy, there was no doubt in my mind that he would allow his life to take my place. “$name,” Milo’s voice was practically begging me. “Please don’t let him drop this one. He does this. He acts like he’ll do better but he won’t. Not when it comes to him.” <<if $malcolmro == "true">> When I turned to Milo, he was pale. “I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you but I’m telling you now, $name, don’t let him pretend this is nothing. For your fucking sake. Don’t let this one go.<</if>> There was more there. A deeper layer beneath those words. But standing in the ruins of a dead lantern, was not the place to have this moment. But I would take Milo’s words to heart and not let this one go. “We will talk about this later,” I reaffirmed. It seemed to calm Milo a bit, knowing that this was not done. That someone was on his side here. But it only served to irritate Malcolm. “We should go back to Oswald. Get the ritual underway. And check on Deucalion. We have more than one problem we need to deal with right now.” That brought Malcolm back to us. I saw the warring irritation and past emotions slip from his face as he remembered the way that Deucalion had twisted before us. How he tried coaxing us away from safety to bury us beneath the sands. “What problem?” Milo asked. “I know you two are keeping something from me. What is it?” [[Taliesin is back, but I don’t think we should worry too much]] [[Taliesin is back, and I don’t know how much we should worry]] [[Taliesin is back, and I think we need to take the situation seriously]] “We are going to need to talk about this more later,” I told Malcolm. He looked as if that was the last thing he wanted to do. “I understand the position you were in, and I’m not mad, but this isn’t something we can just casually shove under the rug.” “Lamplight, it is okay. I dealt with it a long time ago.” “Did you?” Milo was pacing now. His cigarette was lit and the scent of tobacco filled the air. “You never deal with shit, Mal. $name, don’t fucking trust him when he says shit like that. He shoves everything aside until he blows up in a fit of anger. And it’ll be you he’ll take it out on.” “I would never take my issues out on, Lamplight. Whatever you are projecting right now, you can shove up your ass.” Milo waved a hand at Malcolm as if to say ‘see?’ “We will talk about this later,” I reaffirmed. It seemed to calm Milo a bit, knowing that this was not done. That someone was on his side here. But it only served to irritate Malcolm. “We should go back to Oswald. Get the ritual underway. And check on Deucalion. We have more than one problem we need to deal with right now.” That brought Malcolm back to us. I saw the warring irritation and past emotions slip from his face as he remembered the way that Deucalion had twisted before us. How he tried coaxing us away from safety to bury us beneath the sands. “What problem?” Milo asked. “I know you two are keeping something from me. What is it?” [[Taliesin is back, but I don’t think we should worry too much]] [[Taliesin is back, and I don’t know how much we should worry]] [[Taliesin is back, and I think we need to take the situation seriously]] “Taliesin is back,” I told Milo, raising my hands up before the man could begin to panic. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, though.” “Excuse me?” Milo flinched, those words having been the last he expected. “I don’t know if you remember or not, but he was going to stab you. And it wasn’t with any normal dagger. It was a ritual one. He was up to something and needed your blood to do it.” “But he has to possess bodies now. He has no agency other than the one he’s in and he doesn’t have a lot of control over that.” “What?” “Deucalion came to get us for the morning, claiming we had to go home,” Malcolm began to explain. “It was off, but since neither of us know Deucalion well, we didn’t think anything of it. But, he tried to get us alone. I’m not sure what he would have done otherwise.” Fear radiated off Milo. He brought his cigarette to his lips, sucking on the paper as the embers burned bright at the tip. His eyes were frantic, darting around the cavern. Like he was concerned that Taliesin was lurking in the shadows. “Milo,” I started. “It’s serious. We are going to take it seriously. Believe me, I do not relish the man being around either.” Milo’s eyes ticked towards my chest. “Did he touch you?” “He attacked me.” He took another large puff on his cigarette, flicking the ash towards the floor. “Is he still in Deucalion?’ “We don’t know.” “Got it.” He began to walk off. [[Milo, I’m not chasing you]] [[Malcolm, stop him]] [[Milo, sit and think for one minute]] “Taliesin is back,” I told him flatly. “I’m not sure how much we should worry about it. I don’t think he has any real power. Not yet, at least. But he could get it. Maybe a little too easily if today is any indication.” “What happened today?” “Deucalion came to get us for the morning, claiming we had to go home,” Malcolm began to explain. “It was off, but since neither of us know Deucalion well, we didn’t think anything of it. But, he tried to get us alone. I’m not sure what he would have done otherwise.” Fear radiated off Milo. He brought his cigarette to his lips, sucking on the paper as the embers burned bright at the tip. His eyes were frantic, darting around the cavern. Like he was concerned that Taliesin was lurking in the shadows. “Milo,” I started. “It’s serious. We are going to take it seriously. Believe me, I do not relish the man being around either.” Milo’s eyes ticked towards my chest. “Did he touch you?” “He attacked me.” He took another large puff on his cigarette, flicking the ash towards the floor. “Is he still in Deucalion?’ “We don’t know.” “Got it.” He began to walk off. [[Milo, I’m not chasing you]] [[Malcolm, stop him]] [[Milo, sit and think for one minute]] “Taliesin isn’t as gone as we thought he would be.” Saying it out loud gave it more weight, somehow. I had always known the man wasn’t gone, but to admit he was wandering the market again, felt as if this was all for nothing. “I think we need to take the situation seriously because he was able to possess Deucalion. Or something like that. We aren’t really sure yet. Oswald was the one who go him off of us.” “Off of you?” Milo’s voice sounded numb. “Deucalion came to get us for the morning, claiming we had to go home,” Malcolm began to explain. “It was off, but since neither of us know Deucalion well, we didn’t think anything of it. But, he tried to get us alone. I’m not sure what he would have done otherwise.” Fear radiated off Milo. He brought his cigarette to his lips, sucking on the paper as the embers burned bright at the tip. His eyes were frantic, darting around the cavern. Like he was concerned that Taliesin was lurking in the shadows. “Milo,” I started. “It’s serious. We are going to take it seriously. Believe me, I do not relish the man being around either.” Milo’s eyes ticked towards my chest. “Did he touch you?” “He attacked me.” He took another large puff on his cigarette, flicking the ash towards the floor. “Is he still in Deucalion?’ “We don’t know.” “Got it.” He began to walk off. [[Milo, I’m not chasing you]] [[Malcolm, stop him]] [[Milo, sit and think for one minute]] “Milo, I’m not chasing you,” I called after him. “Good. Would rather you didn’t.” He was near the exit to the cave, ready to crawl out of it, consumed once more by his anger. I could feel it this time. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I hadn’t locked myself off as much as I thought, or maybe being closer to the lantern was doing things to me. Mingled in with his blind rage was fear. It was what ruled Milo completely, I now knew. Fear drove him more than any other force. “He wins, you know. If you go to him now. He’s provoked you into action like he did all those times before.” Milo paused, his fists clenching at his side. I barely dared to breathe. “You really want that?” I asked. I felt his resolve before his shoulders slumped. No, he didn’t want that. Letting Taliesin win would be a knife to the heart. “Fuck,” Milo hissed, his voice dropping. “Fuck. I– yeah. We need to do that ritual. We need to do something about Taliesin. We…” his shoulders slumped. “Okay. Do we go get this Oswald guy? Do we do the ritual today?” “We go to him,” I said, taking a step forward. “Get the logistics of the ritual and do it as soon as possible.” Milo nodded. “I’ll follow your lead.” He took a step forward, head bowing down in embarrassment. <<if $miloro == "true">>He kept his voice low as he spoke to me, his eyes looking at me through the thick of his lashes. “The thought of him touching you again makes it so I can’t see straight. I have dreams of it at night. Of his hands on you. I want to kill him, $name. And if I get the chance, I will.”<<elseif $miloro == "false">> “I want this man dead, $name. I have a lot I need to make up for, but I will do just about anything to make sure Taliesin doesn’t walk this realm again. I need you to know that I will kill him if I get the chance.” <</if>> [[I hope you never get the chance]] [[I hope you one day get the chance]] [[That's my kill. Not yours]]“Malcolm, stop him.” With a sigh, Malcolm took three long strides and reached Milo before he could leave the cavern. His hands wrapped around his arm, yanking him back. Milo used the moment, hand raised to hit Malcolm, but Malcolm caught his fist, as if it was an old dance they had partook in before. “This what you want?” he asked Milo lowly. Milo dropped his fist, his breath coming fast. “No.” “Then listen for two seconds before you do something stupid.” He let him go, taking a few steps back and looking at me with a gentle nod. “You’re not going to jeopardize all of us for some petty revenge.” “Listen to Malcolm,” I said. “Learn from your mistakes.” “Fuck,” Milo hissed, his voice dropping. “Fuck. I– yeah. We need to do that ritual. We need to do something about Taliesin. We…” his shoulders slumped. “Okay. Do we go get this Oswald guy? Do we do the ritual today?” “We go to him,” I said, taking a step forward. “Get the logistics of the ritual and do it as soon as possible.” Milo nodded. “I’ll follow your lead.” He took a step forward, head bowing down in embarrassment. <<if $miloro == "true">>He kept his voice low as he spoke to me, his eyes looking at me through the thick of his lashes. “The thought of him touching you again makes it so I can’t see straight. I have dreams of it at night. Of his hands on you. I want to kill him, $name. And if I get the chance, I will.”<<elseif $miloro == "false">> “I want this man dead, $name. I have a lot I need to make up for, but I will do just about anything to make sure Taliesin doesn’t walk this realm again. I need you to know that I will kill him if I get the chance.” <</if>> [[I hope you never get the chance]] [[I hope you one day get the chance]] [[That's my kill. Not yours]] “Milo,” I stayed calm. The entire history of whatever was done between Milo and Taliesin had still not come to light, but panicking wasn’t going to make this any better. “Sit and think about this for one minute.” He stopped, his back turned to me. “How often has it worked for you to walk off on your own? When has that helped anything we are trying to do?” I could tell my words resonated with him. His cigarette had burned down to the nub and when it singed his fingers, he held onto it for a moment longer before flicking the butt aside. I saw his back move as he took a deep breath. Behind us, the sound of broken glass echoed as it fell from the lantern. Another bit of it crumbling, waiting for the world to die. Turning, Milo looked at me, fists tight. “I want to kill him,” he said. “I know.” “If he’s in Deucalion, maybe this is our chance.” “It’s not. You know it’s not. You’re angry.” “Yeah! Because the fucker screwed me over and caused me to fucking kill you!” Another piece of glass crumbled, crashing to the ground. Malcolm quickly stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding being hit. “Fuck,” Milo hissed, his voice dropping. “Fuck. I– yeah. We need to do that ritual. We need to do something about Taliesin. We…” his shoulders slumped. “Okay. Do we go get this Oswald guy? Do we do the ritual today?” “We go to him,” I said, taking a step forward. “Get the logistics of the ritual and do it as soon as possible.” Milo nodded. “I’ll follow your lead.” He took a step forward, head bowing down in embarrassment. <<if $miloro == "true">>He kept his voice low as he spoke to me, his eyes looking at me through the thick of his lashes. “The thought of him touching you again makes it so I can’t see straight. I have dreams of it at night. Of his hands on you. I want to kill him, $name. And if I get the chance, I will.”<<elseif $miloro == "false">> “I want this man dead, $name. I have a lot I need to make up for, but I will do just about anything to make sure Taliesin doesn’t walk this realm again. I need you to know that I will kill him if I get the chance.” <</if>> [[I hope you never get the chance]] [[I hope you one day get the chance]] [[That's my kill. Not yours]]“I hope you never get the chance,” I told him seriously. There was enough blood on Milo’s hands. There was too much violence in his life. For once, I hoped this was not something he would be compelled to do. Milo didn’t say anything as I stepped away from him. Merely took out another cigarette and lit it in the dark room. “Come on,” I said. “The sooner we do all this, the sooner we can get home.” Milo and Malcolm walked ahead of me, the two of them side by side as they navigated their way towards the opening of the cave. <<if $malcolmsex == "true">> I watched them both, thinking of the night before with Malcolm. The way he had held onto me. Almost desperate. Needy in a way I had never known. My mind then turned to Milo. The way his skin had felt against mine. The bubbling of water that had surrounded us our first night together. <</if>> From behind, they were so very different. Milo’s pale and freckled skin was a strange contrast next to Malcolm’s smooth and darker tones. Malcolm was shorter than Milo, but broader. Milo was fidgety next to Malcolm’s calm. These were my two Gatekeepers. <<if $malcolmsex == "true">> My past and current lover.<</if>> Whether I liked it or not, these were the ones who were going to be by my side. As we walked away, more glass crumbled behind me. [[Chapter Eight]]“I hope you get the chance,” I whispered to him. “I really, really do.” Eyes bright, Milo sucked in a deep breath, pulling out another cigarette. I pulled it from his fingers and tossed it aside. Malcolm snorted behind us as he walked by, and Milo just looked appalled. “Come on,” I said. “The sooner we do all this, the sooner we can get home.” Milo and Malcolm walked ahead of me, the two of them side by side as they navigated their way towards the opening of the cave. <<if $malcolmsex == "true">> I watched them both, thinking of the night before with Malcolm. The way he had held onto me. Almost desperate. Needy in a way I had never known. My mind then turned to Milo. The way his skin had felt against mine. The bubbling of water that had surrounded us our first night together. <</if>> From behind, they were so very different. Milo’s pale and freckled skin was a strange contrast next to Malcolm’s smooth and darker tones. Malcolm was shorter than Milo, but broader. Milo was fidgety next to Malcolm’s calm. These were my two Gatekeepers. <<if $malcolmsex == "true">> My past and current lover.<</if>> Whether I liked it or not, these were the ones who were going to be by my side. As we walked away, more glass crumbled behind me. [[Chapter Eight]] Stepping up to Milo, I looked at him seriously. “That’s my kill. Not yours.” A flare of heat lit through Milo’s eyes as he sucked in a sharp breath. While I had no doubt he would try to fight me for the privilege, there was a part of him that was pleased with the answer. “We’ll see about that, darlin’. We’ll see.” “Come on,” I said. “The sooner we do all this, the sooner we can get home.” Milo and Malcolm walked ahead of me, the two of them side by side as they navigated their way towards the opening of the cave. <<if $malcolmsex == "true">> I watched them both, thinking of the night before with Malcolm. The way he had held onto me. Almost desperate. Needy in a way I had never known. My mind then turned to Milo. The way his skin had felt against mine. The bubbling of water that had surrounded us our first night together. <</if>> From behind, they were so very different. Milo’s pale and freckled skin was a strange contrast next to Malcolm’s smooth and darker tones. Malcolm was shorter than Milo, but broader. Milo was fidgety next to Malcolm’s calm. These were my two Gatekeepers. <<if $malcolmsex == "true">> My past and current lover.<</if>> Whether I liked it or not, these were the ones who were going to be by my side. As we walked away, more glass crumbled behind me. [[Chapter Eight]] <<set $killtaliesin to "true">> I rushed forward to help support him, certain that he was going to fall over at the slightest step. But my finger passed through him. There was less resistance, but the transparency was still there. “Where’s Malcolm? What happened?” Gabriel frowned, a little out of breath. “I did not see Mr. Albright. I– I did see the door, however. How was there a door? And why are you out here?” It was a far cry from the man who had called me a demon until now. Yelling in my face that I wasn’t real. I was merely a temptation. “You believe it’s me?” Shame crossed his face, edged with horror. I was not the only one who remembered how he had been. <<if $chapsix == "reese">> "Reese has made me see that perhaps I have not been in my right mind these last few days." <<elseif $chapsix == "elias">>"Elias has made me see that perhaps I have not been in my right mind these last few days." <</if>> It had been more than a few days. Far more than that. But I didn’t want to say anything. I was merely thrilled that he was here. I felt lighter on my feet. Far more able to tackle what was to come. But Gabriel looked as if he could barely stand. “You need to sit down,” I told him. “Oswald, is there…?” “Already on it.” Oswald was coming up to us with a chair. “Here. Sit. You do not look well.” “Thank you.” Gabriel sighed as he lowered himself into his chair. He was dressed down in soft black pants and a dark blue sweater. I had rarely seen him in such a thing, and I was still getting used to him without his uniform. “What is this place?” he asked. “City of Lost Lanterns,” Oswald said. Like a proud father showing off his newborn. “I do not recognize such a district.” Oswald's laugh was hearty. “That would be because it’s not a district. You are in the Outlands, my friend. Deep in the Outlands.” Gabriel sat up straight. His eyes were alert as he began taking in his surroundings. The horizon offered nothing other than a dark mass with no lights across the beyond. But the tinkle of lanterns echoed in the distance as they continued to fall, accompanied by the laughter of children running around the huts below. “The Outlands,” he repeated. Oswald seemed to notice that maybe this wasn’t the news he thought it to be. “Yes. I am Oswald. A follower of the light. And you are…” “Warden Caine.” Silently, I cursed. The Velvet Guard put most of these people out here, and there was very little love for them at this point. Gabriel’s presence may have very well taken away the help that Oswald was offering. [[Former Warden Caine]] [[He’s my friend]] [[Oswald, please give him a chance]] “//Former// Warden Caine,” I told Oswald. For all of Gabriel’s protests, he was not the Warden of the market. He had no jurisdiction here. That, and I would not be letting him conduct anything untoward within this city. Most of the individuals living here were born within these walls. And even the ones banished here were arguably not criminals at all. “That is simply not–” Gabriel stopped short when I shot him a look. “We are not the sum of our past,” Oswald told me gently. While he was wary of Gabriel, he did not seem weary of me. “$name,” Gabriel said sharply. “This place is full of criminals. This city should not exist. There are //children// here.” “They were born here,” Oswald said jovially. “Each and every one of them. And they are under my protection.” He looked at me with a pointed smile. Oswald looked as if he was a man that would forever smile until the very second he was burying you beneath the ground. “I will leave you two be. Come speak with me after a bit. Let us figure out how to get the lanterns back on together. I look forward to the union between market proper and the Outlands. I’m sure that we all are ready to put our best foot forward.” Oswald was so big that I didn’t dare disagree with him. And even Gabriel, in his weakened state, didn’t seem keen to do that. It gave me a small bit of comfort knowing that he couldn’t do much here. When Oswald was finally out of earshot, I turned to Gabriel. [[These people are not the enemy]] [[The Velvet Guard has wrongfully committed these people to this place]] [[I am accepting Oswalds help]] “He’s my friend, Oswald,” I said quietly. I knew what this looked like. I knew the danger that I was bringing to their door by having the Warden here. Then again, Gabriel was no longer in charge. It was his madness that caused me to fear his actions more. “I will take full responsibility for him,” I said quietly. “No harm will come to you or your people.” Oswald looked at me, and I had to wonder if there was pity in his eyes. Would I have looked at him similarly if the situation was reversed. “We are not the sum of our past,” he told me gently. While he was wary of Gabriel, he did not seem weary of me. “$name,” Gabriel said sharply. “This place is full of criminals. This city should not exist. There are //children// here.” “They were born here,” Oswald said jovially. “Each and every one of them. And they are under my protection.” He looked at me with a pointed smile. Oswald looked as if he was a man that would forever smile until the very second he was burying you beneath the ground. “I will leave you two be. Come speak with me after a bit. Let us figure out how to get the lanterns back on together. I look forward to the union between market proper and the Outlands. I’m sure that we all are ready to put our best foot forward.” Oswald was so big that I didn’t dare disagree with him. And even Gabriel, in his weakened state, didn’t seem keen to do that. It gave me a small bit of comfort knowing that he couldn’t do much here. When Oswald was finally out of earshot, I turned to Gabriel. [[These people are not the enemy]] [[The Velvet Guard has wrongfully committed these people to this place]] [[I am accepting Oswalds help]] Immediately, I turned to Oswald. “Please give him a chance,” I practically begged. People would follow his lead. Oswald was respected in this community. If he accepted Gabriel’s presence, so would everyone else. Either that or we would need to keep it incredibly quiet. Oswald’s hand fell on my shoulder. “It is fine, my friend. Perfectly fine. We are not the sum of our past.” “Our past certainly colors our future,” Gabriel said, eyeing the man's hand in uncertainty. “$name, this place is full of criminals. This city shouldn’t even exist. There are //children// here.” “They were born here,” Oswald said jovially. “Each and every one of them. And they are under my protection.” He looked at me with a pointed smile. Oswald looked as if he was a man that would forever smile until the very second he was burying you beneath the ground. “I will leave you two be. Come speak with me after a bit. Let us figure out how to get the lanterns back on together. I look forward to the union between market proper and the Outlands. I’m sure that we all are ready to put our best foot forward.” Oswald was so big that I didn’t dare disagree with him. And even Gabriel, in his weakened state, didn’t seem keen to do that. It gave me a small bit of comfort knowing that he couldn’t do much here. When Oswald was finally out of earshot, I turned to Gabriel. [[These people are not the enemy]] [[The Velvet Guard has wrongfully committed these people to this place]] [[I am accepting Oswalds help]] “These people are not our enemy,” I told him gently. “Families have been created here. Entire lives. They have been going about their time in this realm, making the best of it that they can. And they are willing to help, Gabriel. That’s more than most of the people within the market proper are willing to do.” He shook his head, trying to jar something loose. “The civilians in the market do not even know what is going on. We have kept them in the dark.” “Which is worse,” I told him. “You understand that, right? They are afraid. They are confused. And their world is dying, and they are not even being given the opportunity to help.” “The world is not dying. I will not let you die.” I had to make him see. He did not believe the words of many. His mind rejected them as if they were some sort of sickness. But if Gabriel didn’t understand what we were up against, that we needed to not put the fate of myself simply on his shoulders, I wouldn’t be able to have him by my side. Even now, I doubted he should be. “The market is dying, Gabriel,” I said as evenly as I can. “The lanterns going out is a symptom of something so much larger. There are lanterns throughout the Outlands. Throughout the realm. If we light them again, we may be able to turn the lights back on again. Calm whatever is happening that is locking off areas of the market.” His head twitched, like his mind was not able to comprehend what I was saying. “What does the lights have to do with your health?” he asked. “It’s a part of me, Gabriel. I…” I looked towards the falling lanterns in the distance. How broken they were. “Think of the lanterns as a representation of my mental health,” I told him. “The lights are out. Something is wrong. And I don’t understand why it is happening to me, and I need to focus on it and fix it in order to calm the storm. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it is an issue. It is something we can see and grasp. So why wouldn’t we at least try?” His brows were knitted together, deep in thought. The safety of one's mind wasn’t exactly Gabriel’s strong suit. I just hoped he wouldn’t cast it aside. “I don’t think that’s the way it works,” he said slowly. “But, I understand how it can be seen that way. And regardless, I think you are right. It is a problem we see, and we must do something for it.” I felt relief shudder through me. It was far more of a start than we had before. “What is this lantern that you are speaking of relighting?” I looked over my shoulder. “Can you stand?” [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 3]] “The Velvet Guard has wrongfully committed these people to this place,” I told him firmly. “The rules and regulations you and the rest of the guard live by will not be entering here. These people need to be safe from that tyranny. Do you understand?” He didn’t. Even on Gabriel’s good day, I doubted he would. “They are criminals,” he told me slowly, as if I were a child. “Maybe they once were. Some of them. But that doesn’t mean they all are now. How many were cast aside years ago? How many were wrongly convicted.” “‘We do not wrongly commit. “I think you and I both know that is not true.” Catching his gaze, I swallowed thickly. I had to make him see. He didn’t have to believe in the people here, but I needed him to believe in me. “The market is dying, Gabriel,” I said as evenly as I can. “The lanterns going out is a symptom of something so much larger. There are lanterns throughout the Outlands. Throughout the realm. If we light them again, we may be able to turn the lights back on again. Calm whatever is happening that is locking off areas of the market.” His head twitched, like his mind was not able to comprehend what I was saying. “What does the lights have to do with your health?” he asked. “It’s a part of me, Gabriel. I…” I looked towards the falling lanterns in the distance. How broken they were. “Think of the lanterns as a representation of my mental health,” I told him. “The lights are out. Something is wrong. And I don’t understand why it is happening to me, and I need to focus on it and fix it in order to calm the storm. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it is an issue. It is something we can see and grasp. So why wouldn’t we at least try?” His brows were knitted together, deep in thought. The safety of one's mind wasn’t exactly Gabriel’s strong suit. I just hoped he wouldn’t cast it aside. “I don’t think that’s the way it works,” he said slowly. “But, I understand how it can be seen that way. And regardless, I think you are right. It is a problem we see, and we must do something for it.” I felt relief shudder through me. It was far more of a start than we had before. “What is this lantern that you are speaking of relighting?” I looked over my shoulder. “Can you stand?” [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 3]] “I am accepting Oswald's help,” I told him firmly. “Your opinions on this place are not based in reality. They are based in what you have perceived as reality.” “Help? What help are you even… $name, I don’t even know what’s going on.” His mind had been cast aside for some time now. Since getting back, I hadn’t been able to have a conversation with him without the tendrils of the Knowings teaching leeching into his words. The man that I would have normally gone to for advice, had not been within my grasp for so long. Yet, he was here. He was coherent. And I hated that there was a part of me that doubted my fortune. “The market is dying, Gabriel,” I said as evenly as I can. “The lanterns going out is a symptom of something so much larger. There are lanterns throughout the Outlands. Throughout the realm. If we light them again, we may be able to turn the lights back on again. Calm whatever is happening that is locking off areas of the market.” His head twitched, like his mind was not able to comprehend what I was saying. “What does the lights have to do with your health?” he asked. “It’s a part of me, Gabriel. I…” I looked towards the falling lanterns in the distance. How broken they were. “Think of the lanterns as a representation of my mental health,” I told him. “The lights are out. Something is wrong. And I don’t understand why it is happening to me, and I need to focus on it and fix it in order to calm the storm. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it is an issue. It is something we can see and grasp. So why wouldn’t we at least try?” His brows were knitted together, deep in thought. The safety of one's mind wasn’t exactly Gabriel’s strong suit. I just hoped he wouldn’t cast it aside. “I don’t think that’s the way it works,” he said slowly. “But, I understand how it can be seen that way. And regardless, I think you are right. It is a problem we see, and we must do something for it.” I felt relief shudder through me. It was far more of a start than we had before. “What is this lantern that you are speaking of relighting?” I looked over my shoulder. “Can you stand?” [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 3]] We walked up the basin towards the main market area of the city. Gabriel’s movements were slow and despite him trying to hide his pain, I could see the sweat pricking across his brow. He shouldn’t have been out of bed. And I had to wonder who had let him out the door. Because it certainly wouldn’t have been <<if $chapsix == "reese">>Reese <<elsief $chapsix == "elias">> Elias<</if>>. At least not without a fight. “How long have you been here? Time has been a bit difficult for me to understand.” “I’ve only been here for about a day,” I told him. “I saw you before I left.” A knot of confusion appeared between his eyes. A distant memory to him. I wondered the lives he lived between our conversations. “Yes. I… I vaguely remember that. Apologies. I am still piecing everything together.” We reached the top of the basin and I paused for a moment, just looking at him. Silver cracks still marred his skin, but his sweater did well to hide it. Yet, he was a shell of the man that had first approached me. The one who had stood in the door of the cell, looking for all the world like he was bored. Now, he barely looked as if he knew who he was. “How are you feeling?” I asked tentatively. “I am fine.” It was a lie. It had to be a lie. Even if he was feeling well now, he had lost himself to the madness. At least for a time. I kept silent as we continued to walk, going through the markets and listening to the bustle that I missed so much from the market proper. When the realm had been full of light. The spices wafting through the air. There was warmth and joy there, and I hadn’t known how much I missed it until it was in front of me again. When we headed into the quieter part of town, I unconsciously stepped towards him a bit more. This felt older. The streets that had first been created when the Velvet Guard had cast them aside. The houses were patched through the years, some of them still in need of repair. A few people were milling about, talking to their neighbors. They eyed us as we walked through the streets. I had to wonder if any of them had been cast here by Gabriel. “There are a lot of individuals here,” Gabriel said slowly. “The city is rather old. Well established by now.” “It wasn’t supposed to be.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that everyone in the world was good and true. I was certain that some of the people they had cast out here were ones that would have caused havoc within the realm. But, not all of them. And when faced with the kindness of Oswald, I struggled to believe that all the guard's decisions were right. [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 4]] We walked in silence. I measured his footsteps, looking for the signs of his descent into the abyss. I wondered if there would be a warning. If he would just turn to me at some point and think I was nothing more than a demon sent to tempt him once more. “You are quiet,” he said. We had left the civilian streets and were turning into the tunnel. Gabriel had to duck slightly to keep from hitting his head. I changed myself to simply fit the surroundings. Gabriel saw it, but said nothing. Part of me took that as a good sign. “I am a bit wary,” I confessed to him. “You– for a while, you considered me the enemy.” “I would never hurt you,” he said quickly. Though, it didn’t address my concern. I wanted to believe him. The part of me that loved him did believe him. Yet, this was the man who had treated me like a //thing// when we had first met. Who thought me a danger to society. “I just question if this is going to set you off again. And if not this, then what?” “$name,” he said my name so delicately. It made me ache with who he was and what I may have been losing. “I am not sick.” “If you don’t consider yourself sick, what happened to you?” “Clarity.” We climbed up a slicker part of the tunnel where the steps were narrow, and the handhelds were made of ruby colored glass. They smoothed down from years of use, this path a pilgrimage for the ones lost in the dark. “Your clarity was terrifying,” I told him. I motioned for him to go first. I didn’t want him at my back. “I wish I could explain it to you properly,” he said, hoisting himself up. When he turned back to offer his hand, both of us faltered. His fingers passed through me. Instead, he waited, watching me carefully as I came to his side. “I know you do not understand, but I promise you, what I am doing is for the good of us all.” The stench of blood was still heavy in my nose. The unseeing eyes as they took their last breaths. As people who had trusted him, followed him, lost their lives to his insanity. I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say to that, Gabriel. I really don’t.” Stepping past him, I continued on down the path, leaving him with those words. There was a part of me that wished to rage. To demand that he try. The strength within this man was unmeasurable, and to see him break into such small pieces left me feeling far more hopeless than when Taliesin danced around in my mind. “$name,” Gabriel started, catching up to me. “What can I do to put you at ease? I need you to trust me.” Looking over my shoulder, I caught his eye. “Just follow me for a time,” I told him. “Take in what I’m about to show you.” I didn’t know how much longer I would have him here, clear-headed and my Gabriel. I needed him to see the ruins first. The lantern came into view inch by inch, broken glass reflecting against the small pink light I carried. Gabriel leaned against the wall, out of breath. But when his eyes caught the monolith that was before us, he froze. [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 5]] The lantern looked bigger this time around. Or maybe the shock before hadn’t let me understand the sheer magnitude of what was before me. As we walked into the cavern, the walls opening up to reach into the darkness above, I stopped, truly looking at what was before me. A small part of me that dwarfed everything else I had seen in comparison. “What is this?” Gabriel breathed. He stopped beside me, the awe filling his voice. “Oswald says that this is one of the original lanterns. There are five of them scattered out within the realm. He claims this one has been unlit for a time. Just some burning embers. But recently it went out completely.” He reached his hand upwards, as if to touch the broken glass. It was too far away, however, and his fingers were left twirling midair. “And this is the cause for the darkness?” “Part of it.” Pushing away from the wall, he walked towards it, stepping over shards of glass and bent pieces of metal. There was a soft sound like rain within the cavern, and it took me a moment to realize that it was glass, falling to the ground like glitter. I took out the pink glowing gems that Oswald had given me, casting the light around the room just to see it shine. “It looks as if there was a fire here once,” Gabriel said. “It’s still warm.” I walked to his side, kneeling next to him. The coals were nestled in the middle of a rusted metal loop. Reaching out, I could feel the heat still radiating from it. But if it was an ember that had glowed for years, then it would take some time for it to burn out completely. “That might be a good thing,” I told him. A fire was easy to light when the coals were still primed. “How are we to relight it?” “I don’t know. A ritual of some sort. Oswald has tried it before, but it was useless. We are thinking that if I put some magic within the lantern, then there might be something we can do. Tap into the source.” Gabriel was frowning. “That won’t work.” “How do you know?” “It won’t be enough,” he said. He was rubbing a bit of the coal between his fingers, watching as it left a smear against his dark skin. “I will have to help you. Give you some of my grace.” [[Absolutely not]] [[Would that even work?]] [[You do not have enough grace to give]]“Absolutely not,” I told him. He would not be giving me anything that was braiding the last threads of his sanity to him. The madness came upon him due to his grace being depleted. As far as I was concerned, the lights would stay doused if it meant keeping Gabriel alive. “You will not even hear me out?” he asked irritably. “No. Because it’s a horrible idea.” There was little room to negotiate such a thing. For him to even suggest it showed how little he valued his own life. “Saving you is a horrible idea?” Looking him in the eye, I leaned forward, making sure not to speak until I gained his attention fully. “When it requires killing you? Yes.” His eyes darkened, jaw going tight. “You are being ridiculous.” “Am I?” I laughed. “You were a gibbering mess when I first came back. Called me a demon. The things you have done…” I shook my head, trying to regain some of the control. “The answer is no, Gabriel. It’s not a smart idea.” “$name, grace is a gift from the Knowing,” he urged. “Do you really believe the Knowing wishes for the lights to go out? That they wish for the people to suffer? My grace is a gift from them. A gift that I can give to the rest of you.” [[I don’t think the Knowing gives a shit]] [[You’re right]] [[I’m not even sure the Knowing exists]] “Would that even work?” Grace was something specifically gifted to celestials, from what I knew. A few others that were perhaps blessed in their faith gained a small bit of it. I didn’t know how it could infuse with the Night Market in any meaningful way. But it was an option to at least be entertained. “It would work,” he said with certainty. “Perhaps the lights would look a bit different, but it would serve its purpose. And it would bring people hope. Give them the light from the Knowing. The light they have been missing.” I paused. Within the ruins of the lantern, I stared at this man before me. Never before had he looked as much like the celestial as he did now. I could see it, though. The swirling of the grace inside him. The way it flickered with a zeal that came with the fervor of faith. It was tempting to believe it all. To fall into his solution and give hope to a higher power. But I had to be careful. “I am not opposed to it,” I started slowly. “But can you spare the grace that you have?” “Yes. For you, yes.” “Okay,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Why would grace help anything. It is not innate to me or the market. It is not something that has fueled the lanterns before. Why would this help.” “Because it is grace.” “That answers nothing.” “$name, grace is a gift from the Knowing. Do you really believe the Knowing wishes for the lights to go out? That they wish for the people to suffer?” [[I don’t think the Knowing gives a shit]] [[You’re right]] [[I’m not even sure the Knowing exists]] “You do not have enough grace to give,” I told him. “You don’t even have enough for yourself.” With Madness directly related to the grace a celestial held, I couldn’t imagine taking any more from him than he had already lost. “I have enough,” he replied flippantly. “Gabriel, look at yourself. You are not well. The grace you have is depleted. And even if it wasn’t, it is still finite.” I couldn’t keep the urgency from my voice. Gabriel was a brick wall and nothing seemed to stick to him. “Why does that matter? This is //you// we are talking about. The market. I will gladly give everything I have to keep both you and the market safe. It is my job, $name.” There it was. A kernel of frustration that I had been fostering since dealing with Gabriel again. His blind faith in keeping me safe was one I wanted to find comfort in, but I had seen what it could do. Gabriel had a one track mind and if he made a decision about something, it was hard to pull him away. The docks. The guard. Caliban. The refugees of the market. I didn’t want to get added to his list of unmovable opinions. “Okay,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Okay. Let’s entertain this for a brief second. Why would grace help anything. It is not innate to me or the market. It is not something that has fueled the lanterns before. Why would this help.” “Because it is grace.” “That answers nothing.” “$name, grace is a gift from the Knowing. Do you really believe the Knowing wishes for the lights to go out? That they wish for the people to suffer?” [[I don’t think the Knowing gives a shit]] [[You’re right]] [[I’m not even sure the Knowing exists]] “I don’t think the Knowing gives a shit about the market. Or any of us for that matter.” Gabriel reeled back as if he had been punched. The shock in his eyes was naked, raw from words that I was certain he had heard before, but never from someone he loved. Never from someone he respected. “The Knowing cares,” he said, voice still in shock. “They care for all of us.” “Even the ones who don’t care for them?” The depths of this religion was not one that we had discussed. Not yet. We hadn’t the chance. But I knew a thing or two about higher beings. They could be petty. Vengeful. And so far, I didn’t see where the Knowing was much different. “$name, I promise you, the Knowing does not want the market to be in this state. They are using me to help. And now, with the idea of this ritual, I fully believe they sent me here today to use my grace. To put us together so we can set this right.” “Not too long ago they were whispering to you that I was a demon,” I told him. “What’s changed.” He didn’t look away. There was no guilt in his eyes which was concerning all on its own. “I was confused.” “And now?” “Now, I see the path I should be on.” "Gabriel..." “Ask this Oswald person. You seem to value his opinion. Ask him what it would mean to combine grace. He is a follower. That means he is religious.” I didn’t want to ask. Because I was afraid of the answer. I just wanted Gabriel to be better and to fall asleep next to him in a bed somewhere where he woke me the next morning to a paltry amount of breakfast because he was worried with waking me when he began to cook. “$name,” he called to my softly. I looked up at him, feeling at a loss. “I just want to help.” There was something in me shifting. Caving. I knew that he could convince me given the right circumstance. I had come to the market because I wanted to live. And now, I was cursing the weakness that came with falling in love. “I will talk to Oswald. But if he says that it's not an option, you don’t get to argue about it.” Silently, I was hoping that’s exactly what Oswald would say. It would be the easy way out. “I can agree to that.” Settling down next to him, I looked up towards the dome of the lantern. It was broken. Blue shards of glass sharply jutting out from a metal frame, casting shadows upon the stone cave. Gabriel mimicked my pose, the two of us looking upwards, our hands not touching. “You still have not figured out how to become corporeal to me,” he stated. “It’s not just you.” “Isn’t it? I saw Oswald touch you. <<if $chapsix == "reese">>Reese <<elseif $chapsix == "elias">>Elias <</if>>said that the Albright touched you.’ I didn’t think it was specifically Gabriel, but now that I thought about it, I had touched so many others. Had accepted helping hands. Brushed fingers against someone while exchanging money. But Gabriel, my fingers passed right through except in moments of great stress. “I don’t know why I’m the way I am,” I told him. He hummed absently. “We will figure it out,” he murmured. The lantern was captivating. Dancing across his grey eyes and trying to breathe life back in him. [[I’m afraid of losing you]] [[Do you truly believe that this is all part of the Knowings plan?]] [[What is happening to you?]] “You’re right,” I told him. “But they are still not here, Gabriel. Whether something is stopping them or they can’t come, the Knowing is not here. Not helping us.” “But they are,” he urged, a manic glean to his eyes. “That is what I am trying to tell you. They are here through me. They are using me to make sure that the rest of the market does not suffer.” The obvious was swimming between us. Gabriel was a Fallen. The Knowing had seen fit to cast him out. To forsake him. Even if they were using someone to help bring the market back to its original state, I wasn’t sure if Gabriel would have been their vessel. “I think we are working off of too many assumptions,” I told him. It was the kindest way I could think of to say any of it. “I’m willing to listen to what you have to say about the Knowing but not here.” “And the grace?” I felt my stomach roll at the thought of him using the last bits of his life. A means to an end but the cost would be far greater than what I thought I would be capable of giving. “I don’t know,” I told him slowly. “Then ask this Oswald person. You seem to value his opinion. Ask him what it would mean to combine grace. He is a follower. That means he is religious.” I didn’t want to ask. Because I was afraid of the answer. I just wanted Gabriel to be better and to fall asleep next to him in a bed somewhere where he woke me the next morning to a paltry amount of breakfast because he was worried with waking me when he began to cook. “$name,” he called to my softly. I looked up at him, feeling at a loss. “I just want to help.” There was something in me shifting. Caving. I knew that he could convince me given the right circumstance. I had come to the market because I wanted to live. And now, I was cursing the weakness that came with falling in love. “I will talk to Oswald. But if he says that it's not an option, you don’t get to argue about it.” Silently, I was hoping that’s exactly what Oswald would say. It would be the easy way out. “I can agree to that.” Settling down next to him, I looked up towards the dome of the lantern. It was broken. Blue shards of glass sharply jutting out from a metal frame, casting shadows upon the stone cave. Gabriel mimicked my pose, the two of us looking upwards, our hands not touching. “You still have not figured out how to become corporeal to me,” he stated. “It’s not just you.” “Isn’t it? I saw Oswald touch you. <<if $chapsix == "reese">>Reese <<elseif $chapsix == "elias">>Elias <</if>>said that the Albright touched you.’ I didn’t think it was specifically Gabriel, but now that I thought about it, I had touched so many others. Had accepted helping hands. Brushed fingers against someone while exchanging money. But Gabriel, my fingers passed right through except in moments of great stress. “I don’t know why I’m the way I am,” I told him. He hummed absently. “We will figure it out,” he murmured. The lantern was captivating. Dancing across his grey eyes and trying to breathe life back in him. [[I’m afraid of losing you]] [[Do you truly believe that this is all part of the Knowings plan?]] [[What is happening to you?]] “I’m not even sure the Knowing exists,” I told him. Heartache crossed his face. I was the one he loved. The one he was trying to protect. And the very thing that was fundamental about his own existence, was one I held question towards. My memory was shoddy at best. It was filled with the kind of holes that I was unsure would ever be filled. But as much as I searched, the Knowing was not a part of the existence I came from. There was no soft light and comforting hymns. Just darkness. So much darkness. “How can you say that?” he said, true pain marking his eyes. “Given what you are. You must understand that being beyond the scope of what most understand can exist.” “Gabriel, I am still getting used to being a construct of this world.” Walking upon my very body. Living a life contained inside my own. They were not easy concepts to grasp. “And you cannot find room to accept that maybe there is something else like you out there?” “No, it’s not that. It’s that I can’t understand how a benevolent being wouldn’t come down and help if they were able to do so. Whether the Knowing exists, or not, isn’t even a question. They just simply are not here.” I was trying to reason with him, and there was a fanatic glean to his eyes. Because the Knowing was what Gabriel clung to when life got bad. He claimed it was whispering in his ear. And he couldn’t see just how far he had fallen. “Grace will help,” he asserted. “Allow me to help you.” “Gabriel,” I said with a deep sigh. “I don’t even know what that would do. Combining our magic like that.” “Then ask this Oswald person. You seem to value his opinion. Ask him what it would mean to combine grace. He is a follower. That means he is religious.” I didn’t want to ask. Because I was afraid of the answer. I just wanted Gabriel to be better and to fall asleep next to him in a bed somewhere where he woke me the next morning to a paltry amount of breakfast because he was worried with waking me when he began to cook. “$name,” he called to my softly. I looked up at him, feeling at a loss. “I just want to help.” There was something in me shifting. Caving. I knew that he could convince me given the right circumstance. I had come to the market because I wanted to live. And now, I was cursing the weakness that came with falling in love. “I will talk to Oswald. But if he says that it's not an option, you don’t get to argue about it.” Silently, I was hoping that’s exactly what Oswald would say. It would be the easy way out. “I can agree to that.” Settling down next to him, I looked up towards the dome of the lantern. It was broken. Blue shards of glass sharply jutting out from a metal frame, casting shadows upon the stone cave. Gabriel mimicked my pose, the two of us looking upwards, our hands not touching. “You still have not figured out how to become corporeal to me,” he stated. “It’s not just you.” “Isn’t it? I saw Oswald touch you. <<if $chapsix == “reese”>>Reese <<elseif $chapsix == “elias”>>Elias <</if>>said that the Albright touched you.’ I didn’t think it was specifically Gabriel, but now that I thought about it, I had touched so many others. Had accepted helping hands. Brushed fingers against someone while exchanging money. But Gabriel, my fingers passed right through except in moments of great stress. “I don’t know why I’m the way I am,” I told him. He hummed absently. “We will figure it out,” he murmured. The lantern was captivating. Dancing across his grey eyes and trying to breathe life back in him. [[I’m afraid of losing you]] [[Do you truly believe that this is all part of the Knowings plan?]] [[What is happening to you?]] “I’m afraid of losing you,” I whispered to him. The blue light of the lantern fell down around us in a shaft of soft light. Encasing the two of us in a moment of truth. The loneliness I had felt without him. The fear. I just wanted it all to end. Because I could face this world and what was to come, if he was by my side. I didn’t want to face it without him. “You are not going to lose me,” he tried to reassure. “If you sacrifice your grace, you will die.” He flinched. It was subtle. A small twitch that involuntarily snapped through his body. He knew that the sacrifice of his grace would not have a good ending for us. He //knew// it. But until this moment, when I posed losing him and saving the world right next to each other, I do not think he thought a second of it through. “Please,” I told him. “I will talk with you. We can plan together. But please don’t do anything rash. I need you by my side.” “I admit that I do not know all of the plans before me,” he said, voice dropping to something soft. “But, I do not believe we shall be separated. Not forever.” “You can’t know that.” Furthermore, I didn’t want him to operate on that. To think that just because of the Knowing, we’d be fine. The second we started putting our faith in something we couldn’t even see, we would fail. “I can,” he urged. “I have faith, $name. Faith in you. Faith in the Knowing. Faith in my abilities to keep you safe.” [[I am worried for you]] [[Faith is not a fix for everything]] [[That doesn’t mean what is happening to you is right]] “Do you truly believe that this is all part of the Knowing’s plan? That they cast you down to the Night Market decades prior, to help me save myself? That they want you to cast your own life aside, only you, to give light back to the world.” “Sacrifices have to be made,” he said softly. “I always knew I was meant for greatness. To help others. I thought that I would be fulfilled through being the Warden but now I know my true purpose is this.” “But that’s the thing, Gabriel. You can’t just say this is your purpose and that makes it true.” He scooted closer. He would have reached out to take my hand if he could. “No, it’s not like that. I understand why you might think that. I haven’t made myself clear. But, $name, I have spoken to the Knowing.” He had told me this already. Let me know how the Knowing was testing him. And despite him being coherent now, he was still sticking to his beliefs. “I understand how it looks. I have talked to Elias. He has told me that he believes I am succumbing. And it was something we expected years ago.” “But you don’t believe it. Despite what the people who have been through this before have said.” He turned his head, looking at me. “I have faith, $name.” [[I am worried for you]] [[Faith is not a fix for everything]] [[That doesn’t mean what is happening to you is right]] “What is happening to you?” My voice sounded so small. But when I closed my eyes, I just kept seeing him lying in bed, thrashing and sweating, screaming that I was nothing more than a temptation to lead him down a broken path. “And before you answer, please don’t lie to me. I can’t handle that. I need //you//, Gabriel. I need the truth. Not what you think I need to hear.” He was quiet. His eyes glittering with a distant memory. There was such a silence about Gabriel. An unwavering kind of support. I had longed for it when I came back. Now, I just wanted him to be better. “I am losing myself, I am told.” There was nothing about him that suggested he was concerned. In fact, he looked more confused. His mind could not wrap around the conversation, despite people he trusted telling him such. “But you do not believe it?” He shook his head no, brow furrowed. “Why?” “Because I have spoken to the Knowing.” He had told me this already. Let me know how the Knowing was testing him. And despite him being coherent now, he was still sticking to his beliefs. “I understand how it looks. I have talked to Elias. He has told me that he believes I am succumbing. And it was something we expected years ago.” “But you don’t believe it. Despite what the people who have been through this before have said.” He turned his head, looking at me. “I have faith, $name.” [[I am worried for you]] [[Faith is not a fix for everything]] [[That doesn’t mean what is happening to you is right]] “I am worried for you,” I told him. It was best that I come out and say it. Nothing else would give him pause. Maybe my concern could. “I do not understand why,” he confessed. “I am in the hands of my creator.” I nodded. I was certain he believed that. “But you are falling apart in front of me. Your actions are not of the man that I knew. I– I miss who you were, Gabriel. What we had there before…” I trailed off. Before everything was ruined. Shifting, Gabriel laid down on his back, hands clasped on his chest. I followed suit. The two of us. Side by side. Staring at the dead remains of my mind. “Please don’t be concerned for me,” he said after a long moment. “I understand why you are but I am telling you, I have this under control.” “And what happens if the day comes that you don’t. Are you going to listen to me? To the ones you love?” “I will. But I don’t think that day is on the horizon.” There was little I could say that was going to change his mind. I knew that this was only going to end in disappointment for Gabriel. And on the off chance that he was right, I would eat my words. Though, the part of me that knew what he was going to go through, hoped that he was wrong. “So where do we go from here?” I asked softly. Rolling his head to the side, he turned a level gaze my way. “Are you feeling alright? Do you believe you are getting weaker?” [[Yes and no]] [[I’m not corporeal so thats different]] [[I’m gaining powers that I don’t understand]] “Faith is not a fix for everything,” I told him. “You cannot just use it as a way to handle what you cannot control.” Maybe if there had been something more tangible. Maybe if I could see the Knowing at work in a positive light, I might have thought different. For now, the Knowing was reduced to cracks in Gabriel’s skin and the loss of a beautiful mind. Shifting, Gabriel laid down on his back, hands clasped on his chest. I followed suit. The two of us. Side by side. Staring at the dead remains of my mind. “It is not a fix for everything,” he said after a long moment. When tensions were quelled and the silence stretched around us. “I believe that we have to take matters into our own hands to function as a society. However, when the burden is too much, the Knowing is there. I believe they cast me out because I was not ready for responsibility. But now I am. They recognize my efforts through the years. They are not giving us the fix. They are giving me the ability to help if I so choose.” There was little I could say that was going to change his mind. I knew that this was only going to end in disappointment for Gabriel. And on the off chance that he was right, I would eat my words. Though, the part of me that knew what he was going to go through, hoped that he was wrong. “So where do we go from here?” I asked softly. Rolling his head to the side, he turned a level gaze my way. “Are you feeling alright? Do you believe you are getting weaker?” [[Yes and no]] [[I’m not corporeal so thats different]] [[I’m gaining powers that I don’t understand]] “That doesn’t mean what is happening to you is right,” I tried to tell him. Faith was a comfort, especially to Gabriel. And I had seen plenty through the market relying on faith to get them through. But this was a new kind of belief. One that ignored the actual problem. “Gabriel, you are sick. People don’t get better on faith alone.” Shifting, Gabriel laid down on his back, hands clasped on his chest. I followed suit. The two of us. Side by side. Staring at the dead remains of my mind. “I do not believe this to be bad,” he told me after a moment. When tensions were quelled and the silence stretched around us. “But I understand why you do. And right now, my first instinct is not to worry about me. Because if you are hurt, if this world ends, there will be no me to speak of.” It was knowledge that sat uncomfortably with me since remembering who I was. No matter how often it was said out loud, it was not something I thought I could get used to. “So where do we go from here?” I asked softly. Rolling his head to the side, he turned a level gaze my way. “Are you feeling alright? Do you believe you are getting weaker?” [[Yes and no]] [[I’m not corporeal so thats different]] [[I’m gaining powers that I don’t understand]] “Yes and no,” I said slowly. “There is a part of me that thinks I’m not at the strength I was, but that has more to do with what I know now. Looking back on who I was when I first came to the market, I’m almost surprised that I didn’t wind up dead within the first week.” I was young. Naive. It was interesting to see who I was in a world I desperately longed for. It was the fact that I had no knowledge of my surroundings or the people that was the true mistake. “I’m stronger than I was when I was here last but I’m more limited. Or maybe I’m just cautious.” “But do you feel your body deteriorating?” I shook my head. “No. Which is odd, considering what is happening in the market. But, I don’t want to question it too much. Not until it becomes a problem.” “Do you prefer this version of you?” he asked. “I don’t know if it’s that different. More aware, but I’m still me. I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Everything just feels a little off. I still don’t believe that you are next to me. You haven’t been by my side for so long.” “I’m sorry,” he told me. I could hear true sorrow behind his words. “Gabriel, you killed a lot of people,” I said softly. “And you justified it like it was nothing. Even a group of bad people is still a loss of life. And those were friends of yours.” “I do not have friends,” he told me. [[Not even Reese? Elias? Bella?]] [[That’s sad]] [[What are we then?]] “I’m not truly corporeal,” I told him. “That’s what's felt different. I don’t think of it in terms of strong or weak. It’s just another state of being. I think I’ve been this way before. I– I almost feel stuck. Like maybe part of me isn’t here yet.” “Perhaps with the lights back on, that could be fixed,” he suggested. We stared up at the fractured ceiling. What I wouldn’t give to see the shadow of light flickering off the glass. “It would be a nice conclusion to being here.” Out in the town that shouldn’t exist. I could hear it in his voice, but I was too tired to argue with him about it. “Getting here was chaotic,” I told him. “Corporeal or not, the journey wasn’t easy. And if there are more lanterns to find, I’m concerned of what is to come. I want you by my side for this. You’ve haven’t been by my side for so long and now that you’re here I don’t want to let this moment go.” “I’m sorry,” he told me. I could hear true sorrow behind his words. “Gabriel, you killed a lot of people,” I said softly. “And you justified it like it was nothing. Even a group of bad people is still a loss of life. And those were friends of yours.” “I do not have friends,” he told me. [[Not even Reese? Elias? Bella?]] [[That’s sad]] [[What are we then?]] “I’m gaining powers that I don’t understand.” Before, I had felt powerless. Like the world was shaping around me without any sort of control from me. Now, I had something that I could do. A way to manipulate the world around me. But, it came with a lack of control. And other than a waning thought, I had no way to direct my control “I don’t know how to call on it. I don’t know what kind of strength is behind it. But it’s there.” “What can you do?” “Manipulate the walls, I think. Move things. It’s hard to explain. But I think I can create new pathways to districts if I want.” Gabriel didn’t seem surprised. I supposed given who he was, nothing would really surprise him anymore. “Do you enjoy the power you have?” “It is helpful,” I told him. “I haven’t thought of it much other than that. Everything has been so chaotic. Getting here was chaotic. I still don’t believe that you are next to me. You haven’t been by my side for so long.” “I’m sorry,” he told me. I could hear true sorrow behind his words. “Gabriel, you killed a lot of people,” I said softly. “And you justified it like it was nothing. Even a group of bad people is still a loss of life. And those were friends of yours.” “I do not have friends,” he told me. [[Not even Reese? Elias? Bella?]] [[That’s sad]] [[What are we then?]] “Not even Reese? Elias? Bella?” All people I know he had spent the years with. Tenuous relationships with the three of them defined most of their time but they were all still there. Individuals who would help Gabriel if he would only ask. His fathers alone would move the world for him. “I have never considered them friends,” he said thinly. “Family can be friends, too,” I said. He let out a bitter laugh. “Family is an even looser term, I am afraid.” Not from what I had seen. But of course, Gabriel had been out of his mind for most of it. Yet, I knew differently. I knew that there were people out there that cared for him. And that fact that he couldn’t see it made me even more sad. "I think connection might be something you need to look into. To ground you." He sighed. "$name, the things I said and did, it wasn't me." “It was you,” I told him, keeping my voice soft. The image of the blood congealing against the ground was still sharp in my mind. “And that’s what concerns me.” Gabriel sucked in a deep breath. Coming face to face with his own actions had never been his strength. Blind faith. Belief. That was Gabriel Caine. But I didn’t know what it meant when we had to shake his faith and question how he related to it. “What can I do to make up for it?” he asked. “I’ll do anything.” [[I don’t need you to make up for it]] [[I need you to trust me]] [[I need you to not automatically give everything over to the Knowing]] “That’s sad,” I told him. “Is it?” Turning to him, I propped my head on my head, observing the long lines of his body. He was still a soldier through and through. The onset of the madness had done nothing to diminish his form. Opposing him was still not something most would willingly do. “It is sad,” I told him. “Do you know why I wanted to come down here? Because I wanted to make connection. Up there,” I pointed upwards, “was just me and one other. The stars were there but they weren’t necessarily good conversationalists. I used to look down here at the market, seeing people go out to lunch together. Share dinners. Go on strolls. Laugh. Play. Cry. I wanted it. I wanted it so badly it hurt. To know that you don’t have that saddens me.” He blinked, taking in the information and trying to rationalize it. “I suppose connection is good. I’ve just never found a need for it.” The cracks in his skin were prominent. They wove up his fingers, around each knuckles, across the backs of his hands and up his arms. I wondered what life would have been like if he had people around him to support him more. “I think you should have more people in your life,” I told him softly. “I think it’ll help ground you. Because the things you have done, Gabriel…” "That was not me." “It was you,” I told him, keeping my voice soft. The image of the blood congealing against the ground was still sharp in my mind. “And that’s what concerns me.” Gabriel sucked in a deep breath. Coming face to face with his own actions had never been his strength. Blind faith. Belief. That was Gabriel Caine. But I didn’t know what it meant when we had to shake his faith and question how he related to it. “What can I do to make up for it?” he asked. “I’ll do anything.” [[I don’t need you to make up for it]] [[I need you to trust me]] [[I need you to not automatically give everything over to the Knowing]] “What are we then?” I asked, feeling my chest hurt. “Are we not friends? People who can trust each other?” “It is more than that,” he told me. There was frustration growing in his eyes. The disconnect was not a wall to be brought down with one conversation. One day at a time was how I was to meet Gabriel. It was the Knowing that was getting in the way. I didn’t know what to do with his belief. “$name,” he started, “we are more than friends. Are we not?” I swallowed thickly. Since being back, I had seen him only in the darkest light. It felt like a test, somehow. “I want to be. But there is a lot going on. We were on our way there. But it’s been different since coming back. It’s no ones fault, it’s just… not the same.” “$name, please. The things I said… it was not me.” “It was you,” I told him, keeping my voice soft. The image of the blood congealing against the ground was still sharp in my mind. “And that’s what concerns me.” Gabriel sucked in a deep breath. Coming face to face with his own actions had never been his strength. Blind faith. Belief. That was Gabriel Caine. But I didn’t know what it meant when we had to shake his faith and question how he related to it. “What can I do to make up for it?” he asked. “I’ll do anything.” [[I don’t need you to make up for it]] [[I need you to trust me]] [[I need you to not automatically give everything over to the Knowing]] “I don’t need you to make up for it,” I said, feeling exhausted from the constant go around. “I need you to do better. I need you to think. I understand that everything was thrown into chaos. I cannot imagine what life has been like here. The people that have been hurt. The absolute destruction of the market. And you were grieving, Gabriel. I know you were grieving. I can forgive a lot. I can help. But, you cannot view your actions as something to make up for if they are wrong. You have to start looking at things before you act.” “I do,” he told me. “You just do not enjoy the outcome.” No. No I did not. Gabriel was an ends justify the means type of man. I was not. “$name,” he called out to me in that way that I often dreamed about. That sweet voice, rough with disuse. The one I would hear on the brief mornings we had spent together. “I know you do not see it, but I am doing what I should. I was made to serve. I was made to follow the orders of others because I have the strength to carry out what they cannot.” “You were made to //live//,” I stressed to him. I could hear his resulting sigh. “I was made to carry out the actions that others cannot. To serve. Shouldn’t that be what life is about? To serve others for the greater good?” [[To an extent]] [[No it’s not]] [[Life is about joy]] “I need you to trust me,” I told him. It was something he had offered me before. I needed him to extend it to me again. “I do trust you,” he said softly, hand twitching towards mine. “But I also trust that I am doing what is right. Given enough time, you’ll see that.” I tried not to let my frustration known, though it was written within each line of my body. “Part of trusting me is going to be listening when I tell you that you are going down a path that you cannot return from. You protect people, Gabriel. But what you have been doing has been putting others in danger.” “According to you.” “Yes,” I practically yelled. “When I see the blood you spilled, I consider it harm. That is not you protecting the market. That is you helping destroy it.” He was shutting down. Eyes going blank. Hands slack at his side. I was losing him. “Gabriel, just– If you won’t trust me, then trust yourself. You know the difference between right and wrong. You are a good man. You must know that what you are doing is causing harm.” He sighed, blinking once. Twice. “I live to serve others,” he said numbly. “That is what life is for. That is the point of my existence.” [[To an extent]] [[No it’s not]] [[Life is about joy]] “I need you to not automatically give everything over to the Knowing. I need you to not do everything in their name. I need you to //think//, Gabriel. Believe. Have your faith. But don’t use it as your guiding force.” “I don’t know if I can do that.” “Why?” I desperately needed to understand. I was only asking for him to pause. To not act on instinct. “Because I’ve never done anything different.” I looked at the profile of his face. The hook his nose. The way his hair curled around his ears. I liked it better this way. Without the gel. He looked less severe. “There has to be a time you lived for you,” I whispered. But I knew in my heart there was not. Gabriel had fallen and lived with Reese and Elias for years. He had done what they asked him as they rehabilitated him. Then, he met Belladonna. He had latched onto her. Helped her. Dedicated everything to her until she told him to go. And then he had found the Guard. And every ounce of himself that he had was pushed into that. He loved the guard. He found strength there. He knew nothing else because from the second he had fallen, he had taken someone or something in this world and transported all of his belief onto them. “I don’t understand what people mean when they say live for yourself. What is the point of it? It is selfish. It is unnecessary. Life is about serving others.” [[To an extent]] [[No it’s not]] [[Life is about joy]] “To an extent,” I said slowly. “In your case, I can see why you would think that. But, Gabriel, you are not a celestial of the Knowing any longer. You are so much more than that. Your choice, what you want, does matter.” We laid there for a long time. Glass shards fell all around us, the lantern crumbling with each harsh truth that passed between us. Here, in the desolate remains of a realm that should have been my own, I felt a sense of peace. Because for the first time, I actually thought Gabriel might be listening. He didn’t need to agree with me. I didn’t even need him to respond. He was thinking about it, and I couldn’t say I had seen him do that ever before. “I want to be by your side,” he said. “Will you allow it?” I wanted nothing more. I just didn’t know what that would mean. “As long as you are safe.” “Do you feel that me being by your side is an act of service?” “No,” I told him gently. “I think you are here because you love me. It’s when you tell me that you are dedicating everything you are to me that I become concerned.” “But that is love.” [[That is obsession]] [[It’s the wrong kind of love]] [[I think it can be love but I don’t think its love like we should have]] “No, it’s not,” I told him firmly. “Life should never be about serving other people. Doing something kind, because you //want// to, is a wonderful thing. But life is not a job. You should not feel that your own worth depends on how much you do for someone else. No one should make you feel like that.” We laid there for a long time. Glass shards fell all around us, the lantern crumbling with each harsh truth that passed between us. Here, in the desolate remains of a realm that should have been my own, I felt a sense of peace. Because for the first time, I actually thought Gabriel might be listening. He didn’t need to agree with me. I didn’t even need him to respond. He was thinking about it, and I couldn’t say I had seen him do that ever before. “I want to be by your side,” he said. “Will you allow it?” I wanted nothing more. I just didn’t know what that would mean. “As long as you are safe.” “Do you feel that me being by your side is an act of service?” “No,” I told him gently. “I think you are here because you love me. It’s when you tell me that you are dedicating everything you are to me that I become concerned.” “But that is love.” [[That is obsession]] [[It’s the wrong kind of love]] [[I think it can be love but I don’t think its love like we should have]] “Life is about joy,” I stressed to him. “I’m not sure how much joy you are finding when you are in service of others. But Gabriel, you deserve to live a life of joy. Of //choice//. Free from the commands of everyone else.” We laid there for a long time. Glass shards fell all around us, the lantern crumbling with each harsh truth that passed between us. Here, in the desolate remains of a realm that should have been my own, I felt a sense of peace. Because for the first time, I actually thought Gabriel might be listening. He didn’t need to agree with me. I didn’t even need him to respond. He was thinking about it, and I couldn’t say I had seen him do that ever before. “I want to be by your side,” he said. “Will you allow it?” I wanted nothing more. I just didn’t know what that would mean. “As long as you are safe.” “Do you feel that me being by your side is an act of service?” “No,” I told him gently. “I think you are here because you love me. It’s when you tell me that you are dedicating everything you are to me that I become concerned.” “But that is love.” [[That is obsession]] [[It’s the wrong kind of love]] [[I think it can be love but I don’t think its love like we should have]] “That is not love. It is obsession,” I told him. “Love is a give and take. It is people making each other happy, yes, but also making sure that they are happy themselves. It’s complicated and messy and it hurts and the choices that are presented in the name of love make absolutely no sense. But I do know that what you are talking about is obsession. And that is not a partnership. That is not what I want in life.” “Then what is it you want?” I closed my eyes, unsure if I could answer that. How could I even spout off about the notions of love when I barely understood it myself. “I just want you to be healthy again,” I told him with a small sigh. “I just want the lights to return.” “I think it is a form of love,” I told him. “But it is not the kind of love that exists between partners. I don't think you’ve experienced that kind of love, Gabriel.” “Love is just love,” he answered, confused. “No, it is not. There is the type of love you have for a parent. The kind you have for a close friend. The kind you have for your work. Your passion. And there is the kind that you have with your partner in life. And those types of loves, I’m learning, can become skewed. But they are different. If they are blurry, that is okay. I think they can sometimes cross, but in my limited experience of love and my journey to find out what that all means, I don’t know if you’ve gone down that road yet.” “Do you think I do not love you?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t think you know what that means.” I didn’t even know if I knew what it meant. He was silent for a long moment. “But do you think I will?” I reached out, my hand passing through his. It was cold, and I felt myself shiver with the sensation. “Yes,” I told him. “I think you will.” If we could make it through this, maybe it was something we would be able to discover together. Gabriel fell silent. For now, it was enough. The answer offered some amount of contentment. And it was more than either of us had since coming back. “We should probably get back to Oswald,” I told him quietly. His hand reached out, and while he could not touch me, he rested it upon the lines of my fingers. I felt no warmth. No weight from his touch. But I could see it. Gabriel was still there. For better or worse, he was fighting through the madness for me. “Could we stay here for a little while?” he asked. “I have missed you.” I swallowed thickly. “I have missed you as well.” And despite knowing that he would not feel it, I curled my fingers within his own, longing for the day that this was real. Up above, another bit of glass fell. Gabriel remained silent by my side. [[Chapter Eight]]“It’s the wrong kind of love,” I told him. It was a love that would consume. It was a love that could kill. I wanted more for Gabriel. More for us. But I didn’t know how to guide him. Love was an ambiguous thing that I had watched for years and years, sighing as if it were my own personal entertainment. What I had never anticipated was how complicated it was. Or how heartbreaking it would be. “How can love be wrong?” he asked me. I tipped my head up, staring up at the sky. “I’m not sure,” I told him. “But I do not think dedicating everything to your partner is the right thing to do. Sacrificing your own happiness. Other peoples happiness. It doesn’t feel right, Gabriel. I don’t feel right being in that kind of relationship.” It was a confusing notion. Love in general was something others killed themselves over. I watched as over and over again, perfectly sane people lost their minds to it. They loved so fiercely that they lost themselves. Then they regretted it. So that ended up begging the question of if that was love at all. Gabriel tended to fall into that category. The likes of which never seemed to have a happy ending. “Do you think I do not love you?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t think you know what that means.” I didn’t even know if I knew what it meant. He was silent for a long moment. “But do you think I will?” I reached out, my hand passing through his. It was cold, and I felt myself shiver with the sensation. “Yes,” I told him. “I think you will.” If we could make it through this, maybe it was something we would be able to discover together. Gabriel fell silent. For now, it was enough. The answer offered some amount of contentment. And it was more than either of us had since coming back. “We should probably get back to Oswald,” I told him quietly. His hand reached out, and while he could not touch me, he rested it upon the lines of my fingers. I felt no warmth. No weight from his touch. But I could see it. Gabriel was still there. For better or worse, he was fighting through the madness for me. “Could we stay here for a little while?” he asked. “I have missed you.” I swallowed thickly. “I have missed you as well.” And despite knowing that he would not feel it, I curled my fingers within his own, longing for the day that this was real. Up above, another bit of glass fell. Gabriel remained silent by my side. [[Chapter Eight]]“I think it is a form of love,” I told him. “But it is not the kind of love that exists between partners. I don't think you’ve experienced that kind of love, Gabriel.” “Love is just love,” he answered, confused. “No, it is not. There is the type of love you have for a parent. The kind you have for a close friend. The kind you have for your work. Your passion. And there is the kind that you have with your partner in life. And those types of loves, I’m learning, can become skewed. But they are different. If they are blurry, that is okay. I think they can sometimes cross, but in my limited experience of love and my journey to find out what that all means, I don’t know if you’ve gone down that road yet.” It was a confusing notion. Love in general was something others killed themselves over. I watched as over and over again, perfectly sane people lost their minds to it. They loved so fiercely that they lost themselves. Then they regretted it. So that ended up begging the question of if that was love at all. Gabriel tended to fall into that category. The likes of which never seemed to have a happy ending. “Do you think I do not love you?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t think you know what that means.” I didn’t even know if I knew what it meant. He was silent for a long moment. “But do you think I will?” I reached out, my hand passing through his. It was cold, and I felt myself shiver with the sensation. “Yes,” I told him. “I think you will.” If we could make it through this, maybe it was something we would be able to discover together. Gabriel fell silent. For now, it was enough. The answer offered some amount of contentment. And it was more than either of us had since coming back. “We should probably get back to Oswald,” I told him quietly. His hand reached out, and while he could not touch me, he rested it upon the lines of my fingers. I felt no warmth. No weight from his touch. But I could see it. Gabriel was still there. For better or worse, he was fighting through the madness for me. “Could we stay here for a little while?” he asked. “I have missed you.” I swallowed thickly. “I have missed you as well.” And despite knowing that he would not feel it, I curled my fingers within his own, longing for the day that this was real. Up above, another bit of glass fell. Gabriel remained silent by my side. [[Chapter Eight]] I waited outside the door, looking at it and willing there to be some sort of shudder. Some movement that said our plan had worked. The world around me had never felt more quiet. I, never more alone. The door rippled, like a pebble dropped into a still pond. My breath caught in my throat as a pale leg stepped outwards, the leather of Belladonna’s skirt clinging to the magic of the door. When she stepped through, she looked around, her eyes taking in every inch of the surrounding area. And then she fell. I ran towards her, trying to catch her, but Oswald got there first. He grabbed her, picking her up in his arms, her body limp. Her long red hair hung downwards, dragging over the packed dirt floor beneath our feet. “Bella?” I moved to try and cup her face, but my fingers swept through the angle of her jaw. “Bella, can you hear me?” Oswald was looking down at her with concern. “She is cold.” “She’s a vampire,” I told him. “No. It’s a different cold.” Oswald looked around and then took a few steps towards his hut. He paused, turning halfway to me. “I would like to examine her, if that is alright. There is something that I do not like about this situation.” “I can’t carry her,” I explained quickly. “I can’t touch her.” He didn’t question it. Instead, he took three steps forward, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. She looked small against his form. Her body far thinner than I had once realized. <<if $companion == "malcolm">>I looked back towards the door, confused as to what was happening. Malcolm was supposed to come back through. Why had Belladonna taken his place? “Night Market?” I turned my attention back to Oswald. “Sorry. Yes. I’m coming with you.” <</if>> Oswald took long strides towards his hut, most people clearing out of his way. There were whispers that were going throughout the community as parents took their children to the other side of the basin. I tried to listen to them but found that my heart was pounding too loud in my ears. I knew Bella was sick and the severity of it was not something to be forgotten, but I had not once seen her like this. I could see the way her arms flopped to the side in Oswald’s hold. One delicate hand was bouncing down at their side, the blood tinged nails looking pale in the pink light of the basin camp. Oswald laid her down on a cot inside his hut, and I was struck suddenly with how different Belladonna looked. Even her curves seemed to be diminishing. The usual sound of breathing that she mimicked for everyone else's sake was gone, and she laid still and silent, the blue veins of her eyelids a deep cerulean. “Was there something wrong with her?” Oswald was already rushing around his cabin, rummaging through the baskets he kept lined on the walls. “She’s sick,” I said. <<if $belladying == "true">> “She claims that she is dying.”<</if>> “She is starving,” he said. “Does she have a moral quandary against drinking the blood of the living?” “Not that I know of.” Oswald frowned. “A vampire does not need the amount of sustenance that perhaps some other creatures do, but they do need some. Without it, their powers wane and eventually, given a long enough period of starvation, they will crumble to nothing.” Staring down at Belladonna, I tried to keep my breathing under control. [[Do you have anything to feed her?]] [[Why hadn’t she told me this?]] [[Can you tell if she’s been poisoned?]] “Do you have anything to feed her?” I asked him. It was all I could think of. Something warm to put in her. Blood that was fresh and pure pumping through her veins. “I do not know if she will take any blood at the moment,” Oswald said, eyes running across the empty veins that stuck beneath the skin. “She does not seem conscious enough to do so. Walking through that door might have taken the last of it out of her.” I stayed silent as Oswald worked, the pink flames from the fire pit burning bright as he tossed a few herbs into the flames. It smelled of mint and cardamom, and I had to fight the urge to sneeze. He chanted some words over her, burning large wands of sage. I had to bite my tongue when he pulled out a large syringe, tapping her arm for blood. But even as he stuck the needle in her arm, no blood flowed from her veins. Oswald tutted, trying her other arm, but there was still nothing. Belladonna didn’t even flinch. “She has nothing left in her.” “What does that mean?” “My initial suspicion of starvation is correct. I just do not understand why she is doing such a thing. Her gums look fine. Her fangs are sharp.” Oswald stood, looking at Belladonna like she was a conundrum. “Why is she not waking?” I couldn’t even remember seeing Belladonna sleep before. “Without knowing what her day to day is like, I am unsure. The door looks to be the only connection, but it should not harm her. I’ve never seen a door harm someone, at least. Unless she was barely hanging on as it was.” “Why are you both hovering?” The cracked voice sounded like a ghost within the room. It made my stomach flop. I rushed to Belladonna’s bedside as I heard her speak, the words barely escaping her parted lips. When I knelt next to her, she opened her eyes. They were glassy and dull, her lips cracks with old lipstick. “Bella?” I whispered. Her eyes rolled towards mine, softening as she connected with my own. “There you are, my heart. Why do you look so concerned?” [[Don’t pretend like you don’t know]] [[Why aren’t you eating?]] [[You passed out on me]]“Why didn’t she tell me it was this bad? I knew she was sick, but she kept saying that it was fine. That she had it under control. This is not her under control.” I was staring at her with wide eyes, my chest feeling tight. Why had I believed her? I had seen the signs of it all in front of my eyes, and while it hadn’t been this bad, it was still there. Oswald looked at me, taking a moment to come over and place a hand on my shoulder. “You can ask her that when we figure out what is going on. Are you close to her?” he asked. I nodded. “Yes.” “Then your presence will be important when she wakes. Stay close.” I stayed silent as Oswald worked, the pink flames from the fire pit burning bright as he tossed a few herbs into the flames. It smelled of mint and cardamom, and I had to fight the urge to sneeze. He chanted some words over her, burning large wands of sage. I had to bite my tongue when he pulled out a large syringe, tapping her arm for blood. But even as he stuck the needle in her arm, no blood flowed from her veins. Oswald tutted, trying her other arm, but there was still nothing. Belladonna didn’t even flinch. “She has nothing left in her.” “What does that mean?” “My initial suspicion of starvation is correct. I just do not understand why she is doing such a thing. Her gums look fine. Her fangs are sharp.” Oswald stood, looking at Belladonna like she was a conundrum. “Why is she not waking?” I couldn’t even remember seeing Belladonna sleep before. “Without knowing what her day to day is like, I am unsure. The door looks to be the only connection, but it should not harm her. I’ve never seen a door harm someone, at least. Unless she was barely hanging on as it was.” “Why are you both hovering?” The cracked voice sounded like a ghost within the room. It made my stomach flop. I rushed to Belladonna’s bedside as I heard her speak, the words barely escaping her parted lips. When I knelt next to her, she opened her eyes. They were glassy and dull, her lips cracks with old lipstick. “Bella?” I whispered. Her eyes rolled towards mine, softening as she connected with my own. “There you are, my heart. Why do you look so concerned?” [[Don’t pretend like you don’t know]] [[Why aren’t you eating?]] [[You passed out on me]]“Can you tell if she’s been poisoned?” The first thing I thought of was Gadora. The second, being any of the numerous individuals who had lurked in the dark, coming for her. “Possibly. There are many undetectable poisons. Is there a chance she could be?” “She’s a Baron,” I told him. The life expectancy of a Baron was far shorter than anyone else. Unless they became a recluse of some sort. Gatekeepers notoriously kept their identity hidden for this reason. Oswald straightened. “I see.” His mood shifted. No one wanted a dead Baron on their hands. Not only would it cause the Velvet Guard to surge the city, but her power would pass to the nearest soul. Oswald apparently wanted nothing to do with that job. I stayed silent as Oswald worked, the pink flames from the fire pit burning bright as he tossed a few herbs into the flames. It smelled of mint and cardamom, and I had to fight the urge to sneeze. He chanted some words over her, burning large wands of sage. I had to bite my tongue when he pulled out a large syringe, tapping her arm for blood. But even as he stuck the needle in her arm, no blood flowed from her veins. Oswald tutted, trying her other arm, but there was still nothing. Belladonna didn’t even flinch. “She has nothing left in her.” “What does that mean?” “My initial suspicion of starvation is correct. I just do not understand why she is doing such a thing. Her gums look fine. Her fangs are sharp.” Oswald stood, looking at Belladonna like she was a conundrum. “Why is she not waking?” I couldn’t even remember seeing Belladonna sleep before. “Without knowing what her day to day is like, I am unsure. The door looks to be the only connection, but it should not harm her. I’ve never seen a door harm someone, at least. Unless she was barely hanging on as it was.” “Why are you both hovering?” The cracked voice sounded like a ghost within the room. It made my stomach flop. I rushed to Belladonna’s bedside as I heard her speak, the words barely escaping her parted lips. When I knelt next to her, she opened her eyes. They were glassy and dull, her lips cracks with old lipstick. “Bella?” I whispered. Her eyes rolled towards mine, softening as she connected with my own. “There you are, my heart. Why do you look so concerned?” [[Don’t pretend like you don’t know]] [[Why aren’t you eating?]] [[You passed out on me]] “Don’t pretend like you don’t know.” I wasn’t going to entertain this from her any longer. I had given her space. I had given her time to come up with a solution. And now she was passing out by walking through doors. “I couldn’t possibly fathom what you would be upset about, my dear.” “Bella,” I warned. Oswald stepped forward, clearing his throat a bit to make sure we remembered that he was still in the room. Both of us fell silent, letting him examine her as best he could. “I would suggest,” he started. “Eating as soon as you can. Then we can see if there is anything else that needs to be immediately addressed.” Bella didn’t even look at him. I had a feeling she was going to pretend like he wasn’t even here. Sighing, I was the one to acknowledge Oswald. “Thank you,” I told him. “Is there a way you could find some options for her? Otherwise, I could take her back to the market proper and come back here when I get her settled.” “I think I can come up with something,” he said. Patting my shoulder, he squeezed it a bit in encouragement. “I’ll leave you two alone for a spell. If you would like, please feel free to put more wood on the fire.” I waited until he slipped from the hut, letting down the fur flap that served as his front door. Bella was watching the ordeal with a small wrinkle to her nose, the surroundings not up to her standards. “Well, this is charming.” She winced as she tried to sit up, her thin arms shacking beneath her. When she fell back onto the pillows, I saw the irritation cross her, but I knew if I said anything about it, she would shove it aside. Gaslighting was an art form for this woman. “Why are you here?” I asked. I needed to start slow. Pull her into talking with me. “Do you not wish for me to be here?” “It’s not that. You just made a big ordeal about how you couldn’t leave the market. And now you are.” “Situations change,” she told me. “What changed. Malcolm was going to go get Milo. See if threw as anything he could do with the lanterns that's here.” “And he got a bit detained, so I came in his stead. Though, I don’t think he knows that I came in his stead.” “Bella, can you please just explain what has happened?” I asked. She was helpless, lying on the bed like that, her body too weak to run from the conversation. While her bravado tried to fight it, there was no real way to get around a direct question. Especially from someone she claimed to love. Pursing her lips, she gave an irritated huff. “I am not lying to you.” I waited. Refusing to present her with another question and give her means to distract me. I could tell the moment she realized I wasn’t going to be playing her game. “Malcolm is indisposed,” she said, annoyed at either him, or at the fact that I was refusing to back down. “Something to do with his sister, from what I understand. I got a pixie telling me where the door was and that I needed to come to you. So, dear heart, my real question is, what is happening here?” Briefly, I wondered if that were true. Malcolm leaving me here was out of character for him. Despite not being the Gatekeeper, he had the responsibility of one still lingering on his shoulders. But there was nothing I could do to dispute her words. “It’s like what you thought,” I answered her. “There is a broken lantern here. Oswald, the man that carried you, says the flame burnt out a while ago. But, the theory that relighting all of them will light the Night Market, seems plausible.” “Is this Oswald man a priest?” she asked curiously. “In a way. He calls himself a follower of the light.” Belladonna nodded. “I’ve heard of them. People who worship the lanterns. Believe in their healing properties and the ability to funnel magic through specific parts of the realm. Harmless believers for the most part. Though given the amount of magic I sense here, I am assuming he is one of the real deals.” “He thinks that there is perhaps a way to relight the lanterns. Maybe combining some of my power into the rituals he’s already tried.” Shifting around on her side, she reached into one of her hidden pockets. She pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it for me. “I found something similar. I was only halfway through the translation. I was considering perhaps putting some of my own power to mingle with yours.” [[Explain what you mean by some of your power]] [[Does it have to be you or do you think it is any Baron that can add their power]] [[You can’t even sit up right now]] “Why aren’t you eating?” I demanded of her. While I didn’t know how often she did ingest blood, I had seen her do it on occasion. Sipping from a large stemmed crystal goblet. Patting her lips dry with a black silk handkerchief. “What a glorious greeting, my love. Would you like to try that again?” I didn’t. My question still stood. But I didn’t want to fight her. Not when she was looking so small. Next to us, Oswald continued examining her. It spoke volumes of Bella that she wasn’t even asking who he was. When his fingers ran over her veins, I saw them jump beneath his touch. As if they were starving for the humanity that ran through his own body. “Food is certainly at the root of this,” Oswald said quietly. “It will need to be addressed. Perhaps we can find something for you a bit later.” Belladonna just stared at him, refusing to engage. Oswald looked unphased by it, but obviously knew now was not the time. “I will leave you two alone for the time being. If you would like, please feel free to put more wood on the fire.” I waited until he slipped from the hut, letting down the fur flap that served as his front door. Bella was watching the ordeal with a small wrinkle to her nose, the surroundings not up to her standards. “Well, this is charming.” She winced as she tried to sit up, her thin arms shacking beneath her. When she fell back onto the pillows, I saw the irritation cross her, but I knew if I said anything about it, she would shove it aside. Gaslighting was an art form for this woman. “Why are you here?” I asked. I needed to start slow. Pull her into talking with me. “Do you not wish for me to be here?” “It’s not that. You just made a big ordeal about how you couldn’t leave the market. And now you are.” “Situations change,” she told me. “What changed. Malcolm was going to go get Milo. See if threw as anything he could do with the lanterns that's here.” “And he got a bit detained, so I came in his stead. Though, I don’t think he knows that I came in his stead.” “Bella, can you please just explain what has happened?” I asked. She was helpless, lying on the bed like that, her body too weak to run from the conversation. While her bravado tried to fight it, there was no real way to get around a direct question. Especially from someone she claimed to love. Pursing her lips, she gave an irritated huff. “I am not lying to you.” I waited. Refusing to present her with another question and give her means to distract me. I could tell the moment she realized I wasn’t going to be playing her game. “Malcolm is indisposed,” she said, annoyed at either him, or at the fact that I was refusing to back down. “Something to do with his sister, from what I understand. I got a pixie telling me where the door was and that I needed to come to you. So, dear heart, my real question is, what is happening here?” Briefly, I wondered if that were true. Malcolm leaving me here was out of character for him. Despite not being the Gatekeeper, he had the responsibility of one still lingering on his shoulders. But there was nothing I could do to dispute her words. “It’s like what you thought,” I answered her. “There is a broken lantern here. Oswald, the man that carried you, says the flame burnt out a while ago. But, the theory that relighting all of them will light the Night Market, seems plausible.” “Is this Oswald man a priest?” she asked curiously. “In a way. He calls himself a follower of the light.” Belladonna nodded. “I’ve heard of them. People who worship the lanterns. Believe in their healing properties and the ability to funnel magic through specific parts of the realm. Harmless believers for the most part. Though given the amount of magic I sense here, I am assuming he is one of the real deals.” “He thinks that there is perhaps a way to relight the lanterns. Maybe combining some of my power into the rituals he’s already tried.” Shifting around on her side, she reached into one of her hidden pockets. She pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it for me. “I found something similar. I was only halfway through the translation. I was considering perhaps putting some of my own power to mingle with yours.” [[Explain what you mean by some of your power]] [[Does it have to be you or do you think it is any Baron that can add their power]] [[You can’t even sit up right now]] “You passed out on me,” I told her. “How could I not be concerned.” “Nonsense,” she said. “I don’t remember doing anything of the sort.” Oswald was next to her, lifting her arm up and turning it from side to side. Belladonna turned a narrow gaze at him, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect that it did on any of her followers. It was hard to intimidate when the individual looked as if they would blow away at the slightest wind. “You will need to take it easy,” he began to tell her. “I am not a professional healer, but I have tended to many within my village. You are close to the edge of death, my dear.” Oswald laid her arm gently at her side, looking at her with a sternness that I doubted most turned on her. “Vampirism does that,” she said with a small smile. Oswald laughed a little, nodding his head. When he looked at me, I knew the conversation was not over. But Oswald was not the kind to push. “I will leave you two alone for the time being. If you would like, please feel free to put more wood on the fire.” I waited until he slipped from the hut, letting down the fur flap that served as his front door. Bella was watching the ordeal with a small wrinkle to her nose, the surroundings not up to her standards. “Well, this is charming.” She winced as she tried to sit up, her thin arms shacking beneath her. When she fell back onto the pillows, I saw the irritation cross her, but I knew if I said anything about it, she would shove it aside. Gaslighting was an art form for this woman. “Why are you here?” I asked. I needed to start slow. Pull her into talking with me. “Do you not wish for me to be here?” “It’s not that. You just made a big ordeal about how you couldn’t leave the market. And now you are.” “Situations change,” she told me. “What changed. Malcolm was going to go get Milo. See if threw as anything he could do with the lanterns that's here.” “And he got a bit detained, so I came in his stead. Though, I don’t think he knows that I came in his stead.” “Bella, can you please just explain what has happened?” I asked. She was helpless, lying on the bed like that, her body too weak to run from the conversation. While her bravado tried to fight it, there was no real way to get around a direct question. Especially from someone she claimed to love. Pursing her lips, she gave an irritated huff. “I am not lying to you.” I waited. Refusing to present her with another question and give her means to distract me. I could tell the moment she realized I wasn’t going to be playing her game. “Malcolm is indisposed,” she said, annoyed at either him, or at the fact that I was refusing to back down. “Something to do with his sister, from what I understand. I got a pixie telling me where the door was and that I needed to come to you. So, dear heart, my real question is, what is happening here?” Briefly, I wondered if that were true. Malcolm leaving me here was out of character for him. Despite not being the Gatekeeper, he had the responsibility of one still lingering on his shoulders. But there was nothing I could do to dispute her words. “It’s like what you thought,” I answered her. “There is a broken lantern here. Oswald, the man that carried you, says the flame burnt out a while ago. But, the theory that relighting all of them will light the Night Market, seems plausible.” “Is this Oswald man a priest?” she asked curiously. “In a way. He calls himself a follower of the light.” Belladonna nodded. “I’ve heard of them. People who worship the lanterns. Believe in their healing properties and the ability to funnel magic through specific parts of the realm. Harmless believers for the most part. Though given the amount of magic I sense here, I am assuming he is one of the real deals.” “He thinks that there is perhaps a way to relight the lanterns. Maybe combining some of my power into the rituals he’s already tried.” Shifting around on her side, she reached into one of her hidden pockets. She pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it for me. “I found something similar. I was only halfway through the translation. I was considering perhaps putting some of my own power to mingle with yours.” [[Explain what you mean by some of your power]] [[Does it have to be you or do you think it is any Baron that can add their power]] [[You can’t even sit up right now]] “Explain what you mean by some of your power?” I asked suspiciously. There was power in blood. The likes of which she did not have. There was power in the signet ring, which would leave her authority in question. There was power in just who Belladonna was, but how could you give something like that to a ritual? “We would have to examine what exactly the ritual would need,” she started. “But a Baron is connected to the market, connected to you. I think it would be a good idea to disperse the power through several of us in order to not deplete any one person and to perhaps give the lanterns more points to draw from.” I wasn’t against it. There was plenty more we would have to look at him, but the idea itself was not one I was going to dismiss. I had different things on my mind at the moment. “Bella,” I leaned forward as close as I possibly could. “What is happening? I know you are sick. But why? What is the cause of all of this? I can’t help unless you tell me.” She stared at me, the hardened line of her eyes refusing to budge. The privacy that the woman safeguarded was nearly unmovable. There was an inability on her part to ask for help. To open up. And I didn’t know how to help her understand that this was not the life she had to live. “I just want to help,” I told her. “I’m worried about you. Seeing you walk through that door made my entire world brighten. And then you collapsed. I’m terrified that the next time you won’t wake up.” Her lips were in a thin line, her eyes hard and her face gaunt. But I could see the shake in her hands. The way her fingers clenched in the furs beneath her. And then, all at once, her face crumbled. “I’m starving,’ she whispered. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely focus on the task at hand. It is like a gnawing pain inside my stomach, clawing at my insides, and I can’t make it stop.” “What happened? Why did it become this way?” “You died.” [[You can’t blame this on me]] [[But I’m back]] [[I felt my world shatter]] “Does it have to be you, or do you think it is any Baron that can add their power?” I wasn’t opposed to the idea. The more help that we could gain that was intrinsically tied to the market, the better. But Bella didn’t look as if she had the energy to give. “I would rather it be me,” she said. I stared at her with a level look. One that said she needs to take a moment and examine what she had just said. But, in true Belladonna fashion, she didn’t care. “Rituals are intimate, $name. I do not wish for someone like Elias to be your right hand.” “There are other Barons.” “Of course. Should we call up Odin?” “Bella,” I leaned forward as close as I possibly could. “What is happening? I know you are sick. But why? What is the cause of all of this? I can’t help unless you tell me.” She stared at me, the hardened line of her eyes refusing to budge. The privacy that the woman safeguarded was nearly unmovable. There was an inability on her part to ask for help. To open up. And I didn’t know how to help her understand that this was not the life she had to live. “I just want to help,” I told her. “I’m worried about you. Seeing you walk through that door made my entire world brighten. And then you collapsed. I’m terrified that the next time you won’t wake up.” Her lips were in a thin line, her eyes hard and her face gaunt. But I could see the shake in her hands. The way her fingers clenched in the furs beneath her. And then, all at once, her face crumbled. “I’m starving,’ she whispered. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely focus on the task at hand. It is like a gnawing pain inside my stomach, clawing at my insides, and I can’t make it stop.” “What happened? Why did it become this way?” “You died.” [[You can’t blame this on me]] [[But I’m back]] [[I felt my world shatter]] “You can’t even sit up right now,” I told her. It was taking everything in me not to at least try and help. Though, the fact that my hands would slip through felt like a slap in the face. “How do you expect to do that?” “I’ll be fine after some rest.” She looked irritated at the reminder. “Bella,” I leaned forward as close as I possibly could. “What is happening? I know you are sick. But why? What is the cause of all of this? I can’t help unless you tell me.” She stared at me, the hardened line of her eyes refusing to budge. The privacy that the woman safeguarded was nearly unmovable. There was an inability on her part to ask for help. To open up. And I didn’t know how to help her understand that this was not the life she had to live. “I just want to help,” I told her. “I’m worried about you. Seeing you walk through that door made my entire world brighten. And then you collapsed. I’m terrified that the next time you won’t wake up.” Her lips were in a thin line, her eyes hard and her face gaunt. But I could see the shake in her hands. The way her fingers clenched in the furs beneath her. And then, all at once, her face crumbled. “I’m starving,’ she whispered. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely focus on the task at hand. It is like a gnawing pain inside my stomach, clawing at my insides, and I can’t make it stop.” “What happened? Why did it become this way?” “You died.” [[You can’t blame this on me]] [[But I’m back]] [[I felt my world shatter]] “You can’t blame this on me,” I told her. She tipped her head to the side, her hair tangling around her neck. “Is that guilt that I detect?” The words had lept from my throat before I had given it much thought. I had felt the accusation hit across me. The idea of being blamed for her affliction nearly made me sick. But, she was right. It was not the reaction that either of us needed. “My heart, I am not blaming you. It is not as if this could have been anticipated.” “I don’t even know what //this// is,” I told her in growing frustration. Once again, she pushed herself up, this time, her arms supporting her as she scooted to the head of the bed. The quilted blanket pooled ridiculously in her lap. She looked out of place, sitting there in her leather bustier and skirt. “Occasionally, a vampire is cursed with an affliction,” she said. “One that can be quite dangerous, if allowed. I assumed that it would not be something I would experience, given the amount of years I’ve spent as a vampire. But alas, it looks as if I was just waiting for you to come along and trigger a series of events.” “I don’t understand.” “Food has no taste. In recent days, it has made me physically sick. I go to feed, and I feel ash on my tongue. I force something in my stomach and I throw it up hours later. The only cure for such a thing, is the blood of the other half of your heart.” [[Blood is blood though]] [[Are we speaking metaphorically?]] [[That doesn’t make sense]] “But I’m back,” I told her, feeling confused. If dying had done this to her, why hadn’t the world righted itself with my presence again. “Is it something about me not being corporeal? Is it touch?” “In a way,” Once again, she pushed herself up, this time, her arms supporting her as she scooted to the head of the bed. The quilted blanket pooled ridiculously in her lap. She looked out of place, sitting there in her leather bustier and skirt. “I, too, thought that it would be fixed with contact. That with proximity, I would begin to feel more like myself. But the fact that you are incorporeal has put a bit of a damper in my plans.” I looked down at my own fingers. The way they were slightly translucent. I had touched others. I could walk the streets. Change the market. Dream. But I couldn’t fix her. “I don’t understand,” I uttered, almost to myself. “Occasionally, a vampire is cursed with an affliction,” she said. “One that can be quite dangerous, if allowed. I assumed that it would not be something I would experience, given the amount of years I’ve spent as a vampire. But alas, it looks as if I was just waiting for you to come along and trigger a series of events.” “I don’t understand.” “Food has no taste. In recent days, it has made me physically sick. I go to feed, and I feel ash on my tongue. I force something in my stomach and I throw it up hours later. The only cure for such a thing, is the blood of the other half of your heart.” [[Blood is blood though]] [[Are we speaking metaphorically?]] [[That doesn’t make sense]] I felt the last vestiges of my old life fall away as she spoke those words. Never before had I heard Belladonna sound so small. I had died. I. Had. Died. To me, it was an experience. To everyone else, it was a ripple through their world. The ones I love had wept. The world itself had gone dark. And in the end, the repercussions were still shuddering throughout a dark and isolated market. “My dying did this?” Belladonna sighed, the secrecy she had been holding washing away. She hadn’t wanted to utter any of it. Knowing her, she had been trying to figure a way to fix herself before I could even be involved. “It’s the way you came back,” she confessed. “That is the problem. Although the problem did start when you died.” “Not before.” “Perhaps? Though I didn’t notice.” Once again, she pushed herself up, this time, her arms supporting her as she scooted to the head of the bed. The quilted blanket pooled ridiculously in her lap. She looked out of place, sitting there in her leather bustier and skirt. “Occasionally, a vampire is cursed with an affliction,” she said. “One that can be quite dangerous, if allowed. I assumed that it would not be something I would experience, given the amount of years I’ve spent as a vampire. But alas, it looks as if I was just waiting for you to come along and trigger a series of events.” “I don’t understand.” “Food has no taste. In recent days, it has made me physically sick. I go to feed, and I feel ash on my tongue. I force something in my stomach and I throw it up hours later. The only cure for such a thing, is the blood of the other half of your heart.” [[Blood is blood though]] [[Are we speaking metaphorically?]] [[That doesn’t make sense]] “Blood is blood,” I told her. “Why has it not worked yet.” “Because blood is not blood to vampires. It has more to it. Sustenance. Life force. Magic of its own kind. A walking corpse that subsists off of others energies should not exist, my darling. It’s going to have some intricacies to it that are nuanced in an annoying sort of way.” “Meaning?” “It means, my heart, that your blood is the only blood that will nourish me at this point.” Pointedly, she looked me up and down. “And you are incorporeal.” As if to underline the point, the hand I lifted was slightly translucent. It had become such a part of me that I barely noticed it. It never really affected me until I was around her. “But it wasn’t like this before,” I reasoned. “Why would my death trigger this?” “I don’t know if your death triggered it, or if it was just timing. I felt a few things prior to the ball. There were moments where your blood sang so loud that I couldn’t hear anything other than the beat of your heart. I would stare at you at times, watching the way your throat pulsed. All I wanted when I first met you was to tear into you.” It shouldn’t have sent a shiver through me. A pulse of wanting so intense that I forgot how to breathe for a moment. Belladonna could have killed me and I would have let her. “You never showed any signs.” She smiled that self-satisfied smile. “That would be because I’m good at what I do.” I wanted to curl on the bed next to her. Angle my neck to the side and let her take little sips. By the look on Belladonnas face, she wanted to do the same. “After you died, it got worse,” she said. “I tried to ignore it for a time, but it left me weaker. It didn’t matter who I brought in to feed, no strength was obtained. Given my new role as a Baron, I was unable to afford that kind of show of weakness.” “So you hired Gadora,” I stated. The woman that had appeared in my absence, who seemed as if she knew every second of Belladonna’s day. “I hired Gadora.” Belladonna sighed, leaning her head against the back wall. “I am sorry, my heart. I am trying. But I am also dying. The fight is not long in me.” “Don’t say that.” There was always a danger within what Belladonna was, but it was never quite something I had fretted over. Not until I had to watch her fade away before my eyes. “I haven't eaten anything substantial for close to two full moons,” she laughed mirthlessly. “What else am I supposed to say.” I wanted to reach out. To make all of this better. I was cursing every moment that had led me here. Life was this joyous occasion that I had wanted to wrap myself up in, and yet it was the very thing that was dragging me into nothing. “If you can feed from me, you’ll be alright?” I “It is the cure all,” she stated. Just like that, my priorities shifted. The market could wait. Belladonna could not. “Then that’s the goal. Becoming corporeal.” “Well, yes, dear heart. That was the plan for coming out here.” Her voice was coy. Still Bella’s. I had to cling to it to keep my sanity. “We throw ourselves into the ritual,” I told her. “Follow whatever Oswald says. If we can get this lamp relit, then we can move on to the other ones. There are four more from here.” “What does this ritual even entail?” “We haven’t gone over that yet. It’s something Oswald and I were going to speak of today.” At this point, I didn’t care what the ritual consisted of. I was going to do it, no matter the cost. Situating herself in the corner of the bed, she sighed, rolling onto her side. “Come lay with me,” she requested. I climbed up on the bed with her, feeling my body pass through her in parts. She was cold enough that she didn’t care and for a moment, we could almost pretend like we were holding each other. “I can give you some of my own magic,” she stated, once she got me situated. “And before you fight me on that, we will speak with this Oswald of yours and see what I am able to give.” [[What will that do to you?]] [[Let me handle it on my own]] [[Why even risk it?]] “Are we speaking metaphorically?” With Belladonna, I needed to be clear. Blood could mean actual blood. A literal half of another heart. Or, it could mean something far deeper than we had discussed with each other. She smiled at me coyly. “It means, my heart, that your blood is the only blood that will nourish me at this point.” Pointedly, she looked me up and down. “And you are incorporeal.” As if to underline the point, the hand I lifted was slightly translucent. It had become such a part of me that I barely noticed it. It never really affected me until I was around her. “But it wasn’t like this before,” I reasoned. “Why would my death trigger this?” “I don’t know if your death triggered it, or if it was just timing. I felt a few things prior to the ball. There were moments where your blood sang so loud that I couldn’t hear anything other than the beat of your heart. I would stare at you at times, watching the way your throat pulsed. All I wanted when I first met you was to tear into you.” It shouldn’t have sent a shiver through me. A pulse of wanting so intense that I forgot how to breathe for a moment. Belladonna could have killed me and I would have let her. “You never showed any signs.” She smiled that self-satisfied smile. “That would be because I’m good at what I do.” I wanted to curl on the bed next to her. Angle my neck to the side and let her take little sips. By the look on Belladonnas face, she wanted to do the same. “After you died, it got worse,” she said. “I tried to ignore it for a time, but it left me weaker. It didn’t matter who I brought in to feed, no strength was obtained. Given my new role as a Baron, I was unable to afford that kind of show of weakness.” “So you hired Gadora,” I stated. The woman that had appeared in my absence, who seemed as if she knew every second of Belladonna’s day. “I hired Gadora.” Belladonna sighed, leaning her head against the back wall. “I am sorry, my heart. I am trying. But I am also dying. The fight is not long in me.” “Don’t say that.” There was always a danger within what Belladonna was, but it was never quite something I had fretted over. Not until I had to watch her fade away before my eyes. “I haven't eaten anything substantial for close to two full moons,” she laughed mirthlessly. “What else am I supposed to say.” I wanted to reach out. To make all of this better. I was cursing every moment that had led me here. Life was this joyous occasion that I had wanted to wrap myself up in, and yet it was the very thing that was dragging me into nothing. “If you can feed from me, you’ll be alright?” I “It is the cure all,” she stated. Just like that, my priorities shifted. The market could wait. Belladonna could not. “Then that’s the goal. Becoming corporeal.” “Well, yes, dear heart. That was the plan for coming out here.” Her voice was coy. Still Bella’s. I had to cling to it to keep my sanity. “We throw ourselves into the ritual,” I told her. “Follow whatever Oswald says. If we can get this lamp relit, then we can move on to the other ones. There are four more from here.” “What does this ritual even entail?” “We haven’t gone over that yet. It’s something Oswald and I were going to speak of today.” At this point, I didn’t care what the ritual consisted of. I was going to do it, no matter the cost. Situating herself in the corner of the bed, she sighed, rolling onto her side. “Come lay with me,” she requested. I climbed up on the bed with her, feeling my body pass through her in parts. She was cold enough that she didn’t care and for a moment, we could almost pretend like we were holding each other. “I can give you some of my own magic,” she stated, once she got me situated. “And before you fight me on that, we will speak with this Oswald of yours and see what I am able to give.” [[What will that do to you?]] [[Let me handle it on my own]] [[Why even risk it?]] “The other half of your heart? What is that supposed to mean?” “It means, my heart, that your blood is the only blood that will nourish me at this point.” Pointedly, she looked me up and down. “And you are incorporeal.” As if to underline the point, the hand I lifted was slightly translucent. It had become such a part of me that I barely noticed it. It never really affected me until I was around her. “But it wasn’t like this before,” I reasoned. “Why would my death trigger this?” “I don’t know if your death triggered it, or if it was just timing. I felt a few things prior to the ball. There were moments where your blood sang so loud that I couldn’t hear anything other than the beat of your heart. I would stare at you at times, watching the way your throat pulsed. All I wanted when I first met you was to tear into you.” It shouldn’t have sent a shiver through me. A pulse of wanting so intense that I forgot how to breathe for a moment. Belladonna could have killed me and I would have let her. “You never showed any signs.” She smiled that self-satisfied smile. “That would be because I’m good at what I do.” I wanted to curl on the bed next to her. Angle my neck to the side and let her take little sips. By the look on Belladonnas face, she wanted to do the same. “After you died, it got worse,” she said. “I tried to ignore it for a time, but it left me weaker. It didn’t matter who I brought in to feed, no strength was obtained. Given my new role as a Baron, I was unable to afford that kind of show of weakness.” “So you hired Gadora,” I stated. The woman that had appeared in my absence, who seemed as if she knew every second of Belladonna’s day. “I hired Gadora.” Belladonna sighed, leaning her head against the back wall. “I am sorry, my heart. I am trying. But I am also dying. The fight is not long in me.” “Don’t say that.” There was always a danger within what Belladonna was, but it was never quite something I had fretted over. Not until I had to watch her fade away before my eyes. “I haven't eaten anything substantial for close to two full moons,” she laughed mirthlessly. “What else am I supposed to say.” I wanted to reach out. To make all of this better. I was cursing every moment that had led me here. Life was this joyous occasion that I had wanted to wrap myself up in, and yet it was the very thing that was dragging me into nothing. “If you can feed from me, you’ll be alright?” I “It is the cure all,” she stated. Just like that, my priorities shifted. The market could wait. Belladonna could not. “Then that’s the goal. Becoming corporeal.” “Well, yes, dear heart. That was the plan for coming out here.” Her voice was coy. Still Bella’s. I had to cling to it to keep my sanity. “We throw ourselves into the ritual,” I told her. “Follow whatever Oswald says. If we can get this lamp relit, then we can move on to the other ones. There are four more from here.” “What does this ritual even entail?” “We haven’t gone over that yet. It’s something Oswald and I were going to speak of today.” At this point, I didn’t care what the ritual consisted of. I was going to do it, no matter the cost. Situating herself in the corner of the bed, she sighed, rolling onto her side. “Come lay with me,” she requested. I climbed up on the bed with her, feeling my body pass through her in parts. She was cold enough that she didn’t care and for a moment, we could almost pretend like we were holding each other. “I can give you some of my own magic,” she stated, once she got me situated. “And before you fight me on that, we will speak with this Oswald of yours and see what I am able to give.” [[What will that do to you?]] [[Let me handle it on my own]] [[Why even risk it?]] “What will that do to you?” I asked her. Having Belladonna by my side made me feel a bit more secured. Ironic, given the state of her. But if it was going to deteriorate her more, I couldn’t have her involved. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said dismissively. “Walk across the room and I won’t.” She glared at me. I wanted to laugh due to the pout on her lips. This was the Belladonna the rest of the world didn’t get to see. “I’m not going to have you do anything that could harm you.” She looked at me petulant, clearly irritated that she was not making the connection she wanted. “You gave me my power. Anything that a Baron has, comes from you. I hold a piece of the market within me. I piece of the light that once caressed this world. The vampire who changed me also had that bestowed upon her. Perhaps not until after my change, but she fed on me enough, gave me her blood enough, that there was a transfer. I believe that it could be beneficial.” I was still not convinced. The sallowness of her cheeks and the frail lines of her body were keeping me from committing. “Fine,” Belladonna said in frustration. “We will talk about it. Just please do not take it off the table.” “I won’t take it off the table.” “Good. Now. I am going to pass out. When I wake up, we are going to go to that unlit lantern, and we are going to fix this. And dear heart, when you are corporeal, I will be feasting upon you in more ways than one. Do I make myself clear?” I felt a small thrill rush up my spine. “Yes,” I whispered. “Good.” The mistress in her disappeared as she snuggled down, wrapping her arms falsely around me. I knew when she fell asleep, because her arms sunk through me. I didn’t dare move, however. [[Next|Chapter Seven Belladonna 2]] “Let me handle it on my own,” I told her. “You just need to focus on getting better.” “Focusing on the ritual is focusing on me getting better,” she chided. “So, it is settled then. I will be a part of this.” “I will discuss it with you, but I am not condoning you exerting yourself when you have self-confessed that you don’t know how much longer you are going to be able to hand on.” She looked at me petulant, clearly irritated that she was not making the connection she wanted. “You gave me my power. Anything that a Baron has, comes from you. I hold a piece of the market within me. I piece of the light that once caressed this world. The vampire who changed me also had that bestowed upon her. Perhaps not until after my change, but she fed on me enough, gave me her blood enough, that there was a transfer. I believe that it could be beneficial.” I was still not convinced. The sallowness of her cheeks and the frail lines of her body were keeping me from committing. “Fine,” Belladonna said in frustration. “We will talk about it. Just please do not take it off the table.” “I won’t take it off the table.” “Good. Now. I am going to pass out. When I wake up, we are going to go to that unlit lantern, and we are going to fix this. And dear heart, when you are corporeal, I will be feasting upon you in more ways than one. Do I make myself clear?” I felt a small thrill rush up my spine. “Yes,” I whispered. “Good.” The mistress in her disappeared as she snuggled down, wrapping her arms falsely around me. I knew when she fell asleep, because her arms sunk through me. I didn’t dare move, however. [[Next|Chapter Seven Belladonna 2]] “Why even risk it?” I asked her. Pushing to give up even more of herself, when she was already struggling, felt like a wreckless move. “I am a Baron, my heart. That means I have some of the highest concentration of magic within the market. I am also a vampire that has gathered every ounce of strength and power she has ever seen. You cannot tell me that it would not be helpful.” “I can. I don’t understand it still.” She looked at me petulant, clearly irritated that she was not making the connection she wanted. “You gave me my power. Anything that a Baron has, comes from you. I hold a piece of the market within me. I piece of the light that once caressed this world. The vampire who changed me also had that bestowed upon her. Perhaps not until after my change, but she fed on me enough, gave me her blood enough, that there was a transfer. I believe that it could be beneficial.” I was still not convinced. The sallowness of her cheeks and the frail lines of her body were keeping me from committing. “Fine,” Belladonna said in frustration. “We will talk about it. Just please do not take it off the table.” “I won’t take it off the table.” “Good. Now. I am going to pass out. When I wake up, we are going to go to that unlit lantern, and we are going to fix this. And dear heart, when you are corporeal, I will be feasting upon you in more ways than one. Do I make myself clear?” I felt a small thrill rush up my spine. “Yes,” I whispered. “Good.” The mistress in her disappeared as she snuggled down, wrapping her arms falsely around me. I knew when she fell asleep, because her arms sunk through me. I didn’t dare move, however. [[Next|Chapter Seven Belladonna 2]] I stared at her for a long while, watching as her chest stilled. A beautiful corpse, right next to me in bed. My thoughts were spinning. She had always been in control, and often I had wondered what it would take to get her to let down her walls. Never before had I thought it would be this. “Is she asleep?” I turned. Oswald stood in the doorway, respectfully not stepping outside. “She is.” “May I come in?” I nodded. It was his tent, after all. Stepping inside, Oswald grabbed a few more logs, stoking the fire higher. Bella shivered next to me, curling in closer. The red locks of her hair fell off the side of the bed. “I wanted to let you know that you two can stay here as long as she needs.” “Thank you, Oswald. You have been far kinder than I ever expected.” “That’s what we do here,” he said. An entire village, ostracized from everyone else, and yet willing to help simply because it was the right thing to do. “You are her mate, I am assuming.” I laughed a little at the word. Mate. Such possession. Belladonna would preen at that. “I suppose, yes.” “I believe if you get the lantern relit, you’ll become corporeal.” Sitting up a little, I shivered as her head fell through my torso. Quickly, I scrambled out of bed, tucking the blankets up under her chin. “It’s just with her. Maybe a few other people, but mainly, it's been with her. Do you know why?” “That, I do not,” Oswald said with a sigh. “I am assuming it has something to do with you, Night Market. But, that may be something you need to examine yourself. Might be something you can do while you sit with her for the evening.” I glanced back at her. Before I knew what was going on, I wanted to be with her. Being solid enough to help her. There was a piece of me that felt as if it were still missing. Like I wasn’t fully back yet. It wasn’t just a decision to be made. “Get some rest, Night,” Oswald said. He had gathered a few of his books and a satchel of herbs. “I’ll have some more answers for you in a few hours.” “Oswald,” I said, stopping his departure. “Have I ever had a relationship before? When you’ve met other parts of me, have I been with someone?” He leaned against the frame of the door, assessing whether to answer. “Night, every time I see you, there is something new about you. A goal, perhaps. You take on different roles, different personas, and you throw yourself fully into it. From the minimal amount of time I have spent with this iteration of you, you are far more compassionate. Concerned for others. I do not know if you ever had a relationship when you were here before, but it does not surprise me that you have one now.” “I’m worried for her,” I said. “She is going to disregard herself in favor for saving my life.” Oswald looked at me evenly. “And would you not do the same?” I didn’t answer. Because I knew I would. I knew I would give anything for her to be okay again. Was that what love was. The flap opened, and Oswald stepped out. “Come and get me in a few hours. I can discuss things in here if it is easier for her. Though, she may like to get some fresh air.” I nodded, my eyes landing on Bella’s, unable to turn away. Oswald's next words were the only comfort I had before he left. “I will help you save her, Night. No one should have to lose the one they love.” The flap fell closed, dousing the room back in a pink light. Belladonna shivered, curling further under the blankets. Coming over to her, I pulled them aside, angry that I could touch the cotton but not her. It didn’t stop me, however. I laid down next to her, sharing a pillow with her. Her eyes shifted beneath her bluish lids. “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered. In her sleep, Belladonna reached out for me, unable to touch. [[Chapter Eight]]<<if $companion == "herald">> "Here," Oswald was saying. "Write their name on this and we'll send it through. Hopefully it won't take long." I clutched the partment in my hand, feeling it zing against my fingers. I wanted Hazel's name blazed across there, but of course my fingers had to logically choose differently. The second I was done inking the paper, the paper fluttered through the door. "Now what?" I asked Oswald. "Now, we wait. Hopefully it won't take too long." It was as if the world heard him. The second he spoke, the door began to ripple again. The surface stretched and strained as a brown hand grasped onto the door frame and a curved body in a familiar pathchwork skirt came through. "Hazel?" Oswald frowned. "Was that not who you asked for?" I shook my head. Stepping forward, I looked at her, trying not to scare her back through the door. "Hazel? Are you okay?" She looked around, taking in the small huts and the way the sky slightly glowed. "I-- I was supposed to find you. Malcolm told me to find you." "You spoke to Malcolm." "He-- yes. I-- Where are we?" Oswald must have seen the look on my face because he stepped forward, smiling at Hazel with an expression of welcome. "The Outlands, my dear. A wonderful place to experience if you have not been here before. I am Oswald Truthbelly. I sent word for help and I have to assume if you are here, you are the answer to our questions." Hazel blinked, shaking her head slowly. "I'm not ones answer." There was more to it. I could feel how the words hid so much and all I wanted was to go towards her and wrap her in my arms. But she wasn't even looking at me. Instead, she was looking at the fire beyond. "Is that an eternal flame?" Oswald glanced over his shoudler at the bonfire he kept burning. "Half of one. It is on its way out, I'm afraid. We haven't the right resources for it." "Hedgewood," she said. "That will keep it burning much longer. I-- I could actually get you a shipment, if you would like." [[The Velvet Guard might have something to say about that]] [[Hazel is one of the most knowledgeable people I know]] [[So you know where we are?]] <<elseif $companion == "deucalion">> "Here," Oswald was saying. "Write their name on this and we'll send it through. Hopefully it won't take long." I clutched the partment in my hand, feeling it zing against my fingers. I wanted Hazel's name blazed across there, but of course my fingers had to logically choose differently. The second I was done inking the paper, the paper fluttered through the door. "Now what?" I asked Oswald. "Now, we wait. Hopefully it won't take too long." It was as if the world heard him. The second he spoke, the door began to ripple again. The surface stretched and strained as a brown hand grasped onto the door frame and a curved body in a familiar pathchwork skirt came through. "Hazel?" Oswald frowned. "Was that not who you asked for?" I shook my head. Stepping forward, I looked at her, trying not to scare her back through the door. "Hazel? Are you okay?" She looked around, taking in the small huts and the way the sky slightly glowed. "I-- I was supposed to find you. Malcolm told me to find you." "You spoke to Malcolm." "He-- yes. I-- Where are we?" Oswald must have seen the look on my face because he stepped forward, smiling at Hazel with an expression of welcome. "The Outlands, my dear. A wonderful place to experience if you have not been here before. I am Oswald Truthbelly. I sent word for help and I have to assume if you are here, you are the answer to our questions." Hazel blinked, shaking her head slowly. "I'm not ones answer." There was more to it. I could feel how the words hid so much and all I wanted was to go towards her and wrap her in my arms. But she wasn't even looking at me. Instead, she was looking at the fire beyond. "Is that an eternal flame?" Oswald glanced over his shoudler at the bonfire he kept burning. "Half of one. It is on its way out, I'm afraid. We haven't the right resources for it." "Hedgewood," she said. "That will keep it burning much longer. I-- I could actually get you a shipment, if you would like." [[The Velvet Guard might have something to say about that]] [[Hazel is one of the most knowledgeable people I know]] [[So you know where we are?]] <<elseif $companion == "malcolm">> The door rippled like water, shuddering against a push against its surface. Malcolm stepped through, his face strained. His hair was loose around his face and his lips stretched in a grimace. While I was expecting Milo to come through next, a brown hand grasped onto the door frame, pulling through a curved body and a familiar patchwork skirt. Hazel looked around, her eyes wide as she stared at the vast expanse around her. She wrapped her arms around herself, stepping closer to Malcolm unconsciously. Eyes flitting across the new surroundings, she took everything in with a quick assessment, unsure of what she was seeing. I looked at Malcolm with a silent question. “Hello. Welcome to the City of Lost Lanterns.” Oswald was the one who broke the silence, unaware of what had just come through the door. He stepped forward, smiling kindly towards Hazel. “H-hello.” Malcolm turned to her, a question on his lips, but there was nothing he could say. Hazel was looking around with a wide-eyed stare, trepidation coloring her face. “Malcolm,” Oswald said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Did you succeed in your goals?” Malcolm cleared his throat. “This is my sister,” he explained. “Hazel. I– I had to bring her here.” “You didn’t,” Hazel said. She was shivering, her hair damp around her shoulders. Malcolm had not been gone that long. Whatever he had stepped back into within the market made me want to go through the door and see for myself. Part of me wondered when Lucinda was going to be following after her children. “Is everything alright?” I asked slowly. Malcolm and I exchanged a look. One that Oswald obviously saw. “Hazel, would you like to take a look at the basin? I can get you a cup of tea.” “The basin? He gestured to the pit below. Kids were running, laughing with each other as they played. Hazel eyed them, seeming to be at ease at the sight. Despite her reservations with Malcolm, she still looked at him nervously. “It’s okay,” Malcolm said. “I’ll be along in a minute.” She nodded her head then, following after Oswald, giving me a quick glance as she passed. When she was out of earshot, I turned to Malcolm. “What happened?” He shook his head, coming up and gesturing for him to follow me further away. “I found her wandering. She was down by the fishing docks, half submerged into water. I don’t know why she was there. I didn’t know what to do. I– I’m sorry. I’ll go back. I’ll get Milo. I just – $name, I couldn’t leave her.” I felt my stomach churn. The thought of her addled, down by the water, sent shivers through me. I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Malcolm hadn’t of seen her. “No. Of course not. You did the right thing. Of course you did the right thing.” Malcolm leaned back against the cliffside wall. His face was pale, and his hands shook at his sides. “Can you keep an eye on her for me?” [[I’m not sure she’ll want me to]] [[Where are you going?]] [[Did she come willingly?]] <</if>> “I’m not sure she’ll want me to,” I told him. Each time Hazel had seen me, she had recoiled. Polite as can be, she would back away from me. While Lucinda had her in her clutches, she did not default into trusting me. Given how Malcolm had been the last year, I wasn’t sure she trusted him as well. “Lamplight, we need to get the lights back on. We need to get you corporeal. We need to get her away from Lucinda and her memories back. I just don’t know which thread to pull first.” He was physically walking back and forth between the path to the basin and to the door. Two paths before him, both equally important. “Malcolm, she doesn’t remember me.” Malcolm nodded. “And half the time, I’m struggling to remember her.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I know that I’ve been a shitty brother. But this is more than that. I don’t remember to even contact her half the time.” He hadn’t seen her while I was gone. The woman they both feared was back and Malcolm had put all his energy into the market instead. It wasn’t like him, but we had no reason for it. “Go,” I told him. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” “Don’t let her leave,” Malcolm told me. “She can’t go into the outlands alone. And I don’t want her going through this door on her own, alright?” I smiled softly at him. “Being the big brother, huh?” “I’m serious, $name. Please. Take care of her.” Walking up to him, I hugged him tight. “I will.” Malcolm left through the door, leaving me in the city alone once more. I made my way down the basin stairs, where I could see Oswald and Hazel standing near the community fire, speaking to each other. Hazel looked a little more relaxed than she had when she first arrived. Though, I noticed the swelling on the left side of her face. “Night Market,” Oswald greeted. “This dove and I were just speaking. She said I could keep this fire burning bright with hedge wood. Promised to get me a shipment out here when she gets home.” I turned to look at Hazel [[The Velvet Guard might have something to say about that]] [[Hazel is one of the most knowledgeable people I know]] [[So you know where we are?]] “Where are you going?” I asked him. “To find Milo.” “You look frazzled. Your sister is equally important right now, Mal. Maybe you should stay here with her for a bit. I can either go find Milo or we can wait.” He looked torn. His eyes stretching down towards the basin. “We have to get the lantern lit,” he said softly. There was an absence in his eyes. Something that felt as if he was dying a little as he spoke. “If Hazel is in trouble, we can wait,” I told him. Thoughts of my own well-being had already fled me. But Hazel didn’t trust me. She didn’t even know me. Her brother was had been her world for so long. Closing his eyes, he swallowed. “I need to try,” he said. “With Taliesin and the way the market is… I feel safer with her here.” I couldn’t argue with that sentiment. The further she was from Lucinda, the better. “Go,” I said with a nod. “Just come back if you can’t find him.” “An hour tops,” he said. He stared down towards her, a sadness coming over his eyes. But he turned, going back through the door. I made my way down the basin stairs, where I could see Oswald and Hazel standing near the community fire, speaking to each other. Hazel looked a little more relaxed than she had when she first arrived. Though, I noticed the swelling on the left side of her face. “Night Market,” Oswald greeted. “This dove and I were just speaking. She said I could keep this fire burning bright with hedge wood. Promised to get me a shipment out here when she gets home.” I turned to look at Hazel [[The Velvet Guard might have something to say about that]] [[Hazel is one of the most knowledgeable people I know]] [[So you know where we are?]] “Did she come willingly?” Hazel rarely left the apothecary. And since Lucinda, she rarely left the woman's side unless it was by her mother's behest. “I didn’t really give her a choice. Lucinda wasn’t around. She seemed confused. Still seems confused. I just took her hand and asked her to come with me. She fought me a little bit but…” He sucked in a shaky breath. I was curious to know what had actually happened during that interaction. “At this point, do you think Milo is going to be any help? Maybe we wait until morning. Get some rest.” Malcolm shook his head. “I can go and try and find him again. I don’t know where he is, so I don’t know when I’ll be back.” “Do you think that’s our best bet?” “I don’t know, Lamplight. I really don’t.” His mind was consumed with his sister. Finding her like that had shaken him, and I suspected there was much more to the tale. In the end, I decided Malcolm might just need a minute. If he couldn’t find Milo, I expected that he would come back. “Go,” I told him. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” “Don’t let her leave,” Malcolm told me. “She can’t go into the outlands alone. And I don’t want her going through this door on her own, alright?” I smiled softly at him. “Being the big brother, huh?” “I’m serious, $name. Please. Take care of her.” Walking up to him, I hugged him tight. “I will.” Malcolm left through the door, leaving me in the city alone once more. I made my way down the basin stairs, where I could see Oswald and Hazel standing near the community fire, speaking to each other. Hazel looked a little more relaxed than she had when she first arrived. Though, I noticed the swelling on the left side of her face. “Night Market,” Oswald greeted. “This dove and I were just speaking. She said I could keep this fire burning bright with hedge wood. Promised to get me a shipment out here when she gets home.” I turned to look at Hazel [[The Velvet Guard might have something to say about that]] [[Hazel is one of the most knowledgeable people I know]] [[So you know where we are?]] The Velvet Guard might have something to say about that,” I said. “I don’t think they’ll sanction deliveries to the Outlands.” “That’s why we don’t tell them.” I looked towards Hazel in shock. The retort was so quiet that I almost wondered if she had said it at all. But she was shuffling her feet back and forth, not quite meeting my eye. Oswald laughed. “So you are the apothecary we receive our herbs from. I was wondering if it was the same Hazel. I must say, we appreciate you around here, ma’am. The amount of sniffles you’ve helped cure and the amount of ailments that have been eased because of you have been remarkable.” A blush rushed across Hazel’s cheeks, and I felt a small twinge of nostalgia. When had I forgotten how easily it was to make her flush with embarrassment? How she struggled with compliments because she hadn’t been used to them before. “Os!” Oswald turned to look over his shoulder. A tall man stood a ways off, three barrels stacked in his arms. “Ah, I need to help with that. You two alright?” He was looking mainly at Hazel. “Yes,” she said, although she didn’t sound that confident. “Thank you.” It was rare as of late to be left alone with Hazel. I found that once I was, I didn’t know what to do “Your brother left, but he’ll be back,” I told her. It was the only assurance I could give her. Hazel was looking around, her eyes searching for something past the basin and into the midnight blue dark. “There’s magic here,” she said. “A lot of it.” “There’s a lantern here,” I told her tentatively. “A big one. It used to be lit, but has gone out for some reason.” “Like that one?” Hazel pointed towards the basin walls. I hadn’t seen it before, but there was a large chalk drawing of an azure covered lantern, a blush light coming from inside and small children kneeling beneath the light in prayer. “That would be the one.” “It exists?” She looked almost exited over the prospect. “Not far from here.” Then, taking a chance, I rocked back and forth on my feet. “Do you want to go see it?” A shiver ran through her as she weighed out her options. I hadn’t taken the time to weigh out my own. Maybe it was a risky move, considering that she could run at any time. But sitting here in silence around the fire felt as if it would kill me. When Hazel finally gave me a nod, I felt a small kernel of hope. If she trusted me enough to follow me to the lanterns, maybe there was part of her that still recognized me. [[Next|Chapter Seven Hazel 2]] “Hazel is one of the most knowledgeable women I know. I’d trust her about the hedge wood advice.” Hazel shuffled her feet back and forth, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Oswald was eyeing the two of us carefully. “I believe she has sent orders here before,” he said. “You run the apothecary in the market, correct? We had a fever here a few years ago that you ended up sending the ground milkleaf for.” Hazel’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes! Is everyone okay?” “Alive and kicking. We in fact just use it in tea now as a preventative measure.” “Os!” Oswald turned to look over his shoulder. A tall man stood a ways off, three barrels stacked in his arms. “Ah, I need to help with that. You two alright?” He was looking mainly at Hazel. “Yes,” she said, although she didn’t sound that confident. “Thank you.” It was rare as of late to be left alone with Hazel. I found that once I was, I didn’t know what to do “Your brother left, but he’ll be back,” I told her. It was the only assurance I could give her. Hazel was looking around, her eyes searching for something past the basin and into the midnight blue dark. “There’s magic here,” she said. “A lot of it.” “There’s a lantern here,” I told her tentatively. “A big one. It used to be lit, but has gone out for some reason.” “Like that one?” Hazel pointed towards the basin walls. I hadn’t seen it before, but there was a large chalk drawing of an azure covered lantern, a blush light coming from inside and small children kneeling beneath the light in prayer. “That would be the one.” “It exists?” She looked almost exited over the prospect. “Not far from here.” Then, taking a chance, I rocked back and forth on my feet. “Do you want to go see it?” A shiver ran through her as she weighed out her options. I hadn’t taken the time to weigh out my own. Maybe it was a risky move, considering that she could run at any time. But sitting here in silence around the fire felt as if it would kill me. When Hazel finally gave me a nod, I felt a small kernel of hope. If she trusted me enough to follow me to the lanterns, maybe there was part of her that still recognized me. [[Next|Chapter Seven Hazel 2]] “You know where we are?” “The Outlands,” she said with a little nod. “I sometimes have shipments out here. Unofficially, of course. I pretend not to notice when the shipments come in, since we’re officially not supposed to help anyone out here. I think I’ve actually sent something to this city.” She looked up at the sky, again, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Hazel never did like the wide open spaces. “We appreciate that, ma’am,” Oswald told her. “Your deliveries have most likely helped a lot of families.” Something flickered against her eyes. “I– that feels nice.” “Os!” Oswald turned to look over his shoulder. A tall man stood a ways off, three barrels stacked in his arms. “Ah, I need to help with that. You two alright?” He was looking mainly at Hazel. “Yes,” she said, although she didn’t sound that confident. “Thank you.” It was rare as of late to be left alone with Hazel. I found that once I was, I didn’t know what to do “Your brother left, but he’ll be back,” I told her. It was the only assurance I could give her. Hazel was looking around, her eyes searching for something past the basin and into the midnight blue dark. “There’s magic here,” she said. “A lot of it.” “There’s a lantern here,” I told her tentatively. “A big one. It used to be lit, but has gone out for some reason.” “Like that one?” Hazel pointed towards the basin walls. I hadn’t seen it before, but there was a large chalk drawing of an azure covered lantern, a blush light coming from inside and small children kneeling beneath the light in prayer. “That would be the one.” “It exists?” She looked almost exited over the prospect. “Not far from here.” Then, taking a chance, I rocked back and forth on my feet. “Do you want to go see it?” A shiver ran through her as she weighed out her options. I hadn’t taken the time to weigh out my own. Maybe it was a risky move, considering that she could run at any time. But sitting here in silence around the fire felt as if it would kill me. When Hazel finally gave me a nod, I felt a small kernel of hope. If she trusted me enough to follow me to the lanterns, maybe there was part of her that still recognized me. [[Next|Chapter Seven Hazel 2]] I called out to Oswald as we began walking up the path that led us out of the basin. He nodded at me, telling me to be careful as we wandered through the city. His concern seemed much more for Hazel than it did for me. We wandered out towards the main part of the city and beside me, Hazel gasped. The falling lanterns were reflected in her eyes as we walked through the stalls set up, selling dilapidated wares. She stopped, reaching out to grab one. It was a smaller one. No bigger than her palm. The top looked as if it had been broken off completely. “They just fall from the sky?” she breathed. “Why?” “They’re all the broken lanterns within the market. A culmination of the ones here, in other ruined cities, and the market proper.” When she turned to stare at me, I felt something snap into place. “I don’t know why I know that.” I hadn’t, prior. But there was something about being around these lanterns that felt as if it were filling me up a bit more. “Do they come here to be fixed?” she asked. That, I didn’t actually know. “I think it has more to do with Oswald and his followers. Maybe the lanterns feel safe here.” Maybe //I// felt safe here. “If we could find a way to fix them and put them back out in the world…” Hazel trailed off, running her fingers over the broken metal frame in her palm. There was a puzzle she was trying to suss out. Perhaps thinking of what magic she could imbue the glass with. “We’re trying to find a way to fix the lantern I’m taking you to,” I said. “It’s on a bigger scale, but maybe we could apply it to the little ones, too.” The lanterns being sold in the stalls were nothing more than cheap replica’s of what fell from the sky. I wanted to gather them all and heat them again with life. “This place is phenomenal.” We began walking again, Hazel tucking the lantern into the folds of her skirt. “I knew of course there were others out here, but I never thought about the fact that their cities could be so expansive. My mother would like to hear about this.” [[Why do you say that?]] [[Maybe you shouldn’t tell Lucinda just yet]] [[Has she taken over the shop completely?]] “Why do you say that?” I asked her. I knew very little about Lucinda. Most of what I knew came from her children. Anything Malcolm said did not cast her in a good light. And while Hazel’s tone towards her mothers was much different, her words were empty. They somehow managed to always feel rehearsed. “She would love a new market to sell to. I don’t know how many times a day I hear about how the market proper is too narrow of a clientele.” I frowned at that. “The market proper is huge. Maybe it’s not as accessible with how the walls have moved post the lights but I would think she would have plenty of clients to choose from.” We turned a corner, heading towards the packed area of the city where the houses were pressed together, and the streets were lined with benches and broken down chairs where families spent their time. “Mother is just funny like that. Always looking for new opportunities. Always hungry for more power.” “And that doesn’t concern you?” She looked at me, genuinely confused. “Should it?” I didn’t answer her. I had a feeling that whatever I said, she wasn’t going to remember anyway. As we approached the end of the alley, I raised my hand and pointed towards a stone ladder. “Right up there. We have to go through a bit of a cavern situation to get there.” Hazel stood at the basin of the ladder, running her hand over the stone. “There is quartz and carnelian in this stone,” she murmured. “I wonder if that’s intentional.” “Does that mean something?” “Quartz is an amplifier. Carnelian banishes negative energies.” She grabbed onto the ladder, pulling herself up. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to push her further. Nearly lightheaded with the prospect of her breaking through her mother's spell. “Now that I think about it,” she continued. “It looked like a lot of the lanterns that were falling had some crystal and stone properties to them. Which really should make them stronger but they all looked as if they were broke rather purposefully.” “Wait. Like someone actually broke them? It wasn’t just because the lights went out in them.” She shook her head as we pulled ourselves up and began walking down the tunnel that would lead to the lantern. “The glass was shattered. That doesn’t look as if it was a product of simple wear and tear.” My mind was reeling. The prospect of someone purposefully damaging the lanterns had not come to mind. And I had to wonder if the one ahead of us had been sabotaged in some form. [[Next|Chapter seven Hazel 3]] “Maybe you shouldn’t tell Lucinda just yet,” I tried. Whatever the woman was capable of was a question for another time. But I didn’t want her in this village. These were people who had already escaped the iron rule of the Velvet Guard. They were living freely, under their own governance. I felt oddly protective of them. “I’m sure she already knows,” Hazel said. “Malcolm was born in the Outlands. I’m not sure if I was.” That was information I had yet to have. There was some inkling in the back of my head that suggested that I knew that Lucinda was aware of the Outlands. Had perhaps lived there for some time. But not that her children were born here. I didn’t know if that did anything to her children. Or if being out here had anything to do with how Lucinda was. We turned a corner, heading towards the packed area of the city where the houses were pressed together, and the streets were lined with benches and broken down chairs where families spent their time. “I just don’t think a lot of people should know about the city,” I reasoned. “It’s technically operated illegally. And they seem like they are fine. I would hate for anything to disrupt their life.” Hazel shrugged, clearly only half listening to me. Her attention was fixated elsewhere as she smiled politely at the young ones we passed. As we approached the end of the alley, I raised my hand and pointed towards a stone ladder. “Right up there. We have to go through a bit of a cavern situation to get there.” Hazel stood at the basin of the ladder, running her hand over the stone. “There is quartz and carnelian in this stone,” she murmured. “I wonder if that’s intentional.” “Does that mean something?” “Quartz is an amplifier. Carnelian banishes negative energies.” She grabbed onto the ladder, pulling herself up. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to push her further. Nearly lightheaded with the prospect of her breaking through her mother's spell. “Now that I think about it,” she continued. “It looked like a lot of the lanterns that were falling had some crystal and stone properties to them. Which really should make them stronger but they all looked as if they were broke rather purposefully.” “Wait. Like someone actually broke them? It wasn’t just because the lights went out in them.” She shook her head as we pulled ourselves up and began walking down the tunnel that would lead to the lantern. “The glass was shattered. That doesn’t look as if it was a product of simple wear and tear.” My mind was reeling. The prospect of someone purposefully damaging the lanterns had not come to mind. And I had to wonder if the one ahead of us had been sabotaged in some form. [[Next|Chapter seven Hazel 3]] “Has she taken over the shop completely?” The question was out and it felt like an accusation. But I watched Hazel’s face when I asked it, trying not to shy away. A glaze went over her eyes. It was slight, but I had been someone who had lived with Hazel for a long time. Had laid and stared into her eyes late at night. I also couldn’t help but notice that Malcolm had a similar look to him at times. “She’s helping me,” Hazel said with a sigh. “There are a lot of things that go into handling the herbs that I do that I wasn’t doing properly. Mother is simply saving me from a serious mistake.” “You were doing fine before,” I said. “I always really respected how you handled the shop on your own.” “Yes, but you obviously do not have a magical background. Not in herbs, at least. When you came to me, you didn’t even know that magic existed. I had to teach you the ropes of the shop, remember?” We turned a corner, heading towards the packed area of the city where the houses were pressed together, and the streets were lined with benches and broken down chairs where families spent their time. “I was not doing as well as you may think. Everything was out of order. I wasn’t selling curses. My profit margins were terrible.” All things that Hazel wouldn’t have cared about. But I nodded all the same, my suspicions confirmed that some spell was over Hazel that was triggered by certain conversations. I also didn’t mention the fact that she remembered when I first came to the shop. I had to hide my smile. Perhaps the further away from Lucinda we were, the thinner the control. “I had no idea,” I told her, agreeing with what she said. I then raised my hand, pointing towards a stone ladder. “Right up there. We have to go through a bit of a cavern situation to get there.” Hazel stood at the basin of the ladder, running her hand over the stone. “There is quartz and carnelian in this stone,” she murmured. “I wonder if that’s intentional.” “Does that mean something?” “Quartz is an amplifier. Carnelian banishes negative energies.” She grabbed onto the ladder, pulling herself up. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to push her further. Nearly lightheaded with the prospect of her breaking through her mother's spell. “Now that I think about it,” she continued. “It looked like a lot of the lanterns that were falling had some crystal and stone properties to them. Which really should make them stronger but they all looked as if they were broke rather purposefully.” “Wait. Like someone actually broke them? It wasn’t just because the lights went out in them.” She shook her head as we pulled ourselves up and began walking down the tunnel that would lead to the lantern. “The glass was shattered. That doesn’t look as if it was a product of simple wear and tear.” My mind was reeling. The prospect of someone purposefully damaging the lanterns had not come to mind. And I had to wonder if the one ahead of us had been sabotaged in some form. [[Next|Chapter seven Hazel 3]] We navigated through the rest of the cavern, turning to our side in various stages to try and make it through the more narrow sections. Now that Hazel had mentioned it, I could feel the magic thrumming around us. Whether it was from the rocks itself or something else, I wasn’t sure. I knew the second that Hazel emerged from the tunnel and saw the lantern. The light hit her differently. A soft glow that was just innate to the chamber lit her face in moonlight. But not just that, I could hear her gasp at the sheer magnitude of what was before her. I came to her side, stopping. The lantern was just as breathtaking now as it was when I first saw it. Standing before the lantern with Hazel by my side felt far more profound than I thought it would be. The blue glass was broken, trickling down in small specks of glitter, hitting the floor and coating it with a sharp glitter. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. Stepping forward, the glass crunched under her feet. There was no hesitation as she traversed across the cavern towards the edge of the doused light. Picking up her skirts, she tied them closer to her hip, ducking through the open lantern door. With a gentle touch, she ran her hands down the ides, jumping as her nail caught upon one of the broken panes. “Careful,” I told her, quickly following after her. Wiping the blood on her skirt, she walked further in towards the embers. They were still warm, leaving the insides of the lantern humid. Hazel crouched down, waving her hand over the top of the coals. A small spark burst beneath her fingertips, lighting the embers. Though it was nothing more than a flicker, lasting for the span of a heartbeat before disappearing once more. My breath caught in my throat. “How did you do that?” “Do what?” “The light.” Hazel looked down at her hand. There was a soft glow still tracing upon the lines of her hand. “I just did,” she said. “It doesn’t look like it stuck though.” My breath was coming faster now, sweat gathering on my brows and threatening to drip into my gaze. “Can you try it again?” My fingers curled in the rubble, the smell of smoke assaulting my nose. When Hazel lit up her palm again, she lowered her hand closer to the embers this time. I watched as tiny pink sparks jumped from ember to ember. But it never lasted. After three or four hops, they dissipated, burying down under the coal and hiding. “Hazel, I don’t think anyone else has been able to do that.” She frowned. “It’s a simple light spell.” “Oswald said that they have tried a few times to relight everything. Done some rituals. But nothing has come of it.” “I don’t understand. What is this supposed to do?” I forgot. Unlike before, Hazel was not in the thick of it all with me. She was not the one I came home to at night or started my day with. She hardly even knew my name. So I sat for a moment, explaining it all to her. The large lanterns in the Outlands that needed relit. The lanterns that were connected to them somehow. The theory we had about relighting them. The power that would go into it all. Hazel sat and listened to all of it with rapt attention. “I can help,” she breathed when I was done. I blinked at her, scarcely hoping to believe what she said. “How?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I’m good at rituals,” she said. “My body is made for it, I think. I can help channel power properly. I don’t think the rituals are sticking because no one knows how to channel it properly into the lantern. But I’m a child of the market. I was born here. My mother infused the market energy in me from the womb.” “She what?” “Oh. It’s a… it’s not as bad as it sounds. But, I have part of the market's magic woven within me. To help make me stronger. Not many can say that. I could possibly help with the lanterns.” Her head ducked down, body recoiling a bit. “If you would like, that is.” [[How did you weave the market’s magic through you?]] [[Would you like to?]] [[What exactly would you be doing?]] “How did you weave the market’s magic through you?” I asked her. She had once told me she had a bit of it because she was born in this realm. At the time, I had blindly accepted that. Not thinking that that meant that thousands, maybe millions of others, would all have a piece of that magic as well. Yet, magic was a rare commodity within the Night Market. Forbidden, for most. Hazel looked a bit sheepish. “Oh, you know. Just a bit of this and that. It’s really not that hard, if you think about it. Just some simple injections. Imbibing of tonics made from the dirt of the land.” “You drank dirt?” She laughed a little. “That is the least disgusting thing I have drank, so I feel comfortable telling you that. Either way, it’s a very long process that I started in my teens. I think it could be very helpful to our situation.” I liked the way she said ‘our situation’. “If you did help us, would it just be… you?” Hazel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “Would it just be you helping?” Every time I had spoken to her, Lucinda had come up. I couldn’t afford to have that woman's hands on any of the lanterns. “Of course. Who else would he– oh.” Hazel’s head dropped. “Malcolm’s been telling stories.” “It’s not that, Hazel. It’s more of the fact that I don’t know her. And this is kind of a sensitive matter.” “No. I understand.” She ran her fingers through the glass for a minute, little bits of light sparking. I noticed the way her fingertips were darker. Rotted in places and stitched back together. “Would you still like my help?” she asked. “It would probably just be me. My mother doesn’t like to help much.” [[Only if it’s not going to cause you any problems]] [[What do you plan to tell her?]] [[I would love your help]] “Would you like to?” A line appeared between her eyes at my question. “I just told you I would.” “No, I know.” I shifted closer to her, careful not to crowd her but also careful to make sure that //she// was the one answering me. “Sometimes, you do things because you think its what others want you to do. And I know that my presence has caused some confusion. That you aren’t entirely comfortable. I wanted to make sure, if you do want to help, that you are doing ti because it’s what //you// want.” A soft smile played across her lips. I wondered when the last time was that someone had made sure her wants were being heard. “I won’t lie to you. You make me a bit nervous. But it's in an okay way, I’m discovering, the more I get to know you. And these lanterns?” she gestured around us. “I am completely fascinated. I don’t think a lot of opportunities like this would arise so easily.” There was genuine excitement to her voice, and it put my thoughts a little more at ease. “If you did help us, would it just be… you?” Hazel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “Would it just be you helping?” Every time I had spoken to her, Lucinda had come up. I couldn’t afford to have that woman's hands on any of the lanterns. “Of course. Who else would he– oh.” Hazel’s head dropped. “Malcolm’s been telling stories.” “It’s not that, Hazel. It’s more of the fact that I don’t know her. And this is kind of a sensitive matter.” “No. I understand.” She ran her fingers through the glass for a minute, little bits of light sparking. I noticed the way her fingertips were darker. Rotted in places and stitched back together. “Would you still like my help?” she asked. “It would probably just be me. My mother doesn’t like to help much.” [[Only if it’s not going to cause you any problems]] [[What do you plan to tell her?]] [[I would love your help]] “What exactly would you be doing?” I asked. Images of that night she brought Malcolm back were still vivid in my mind. The blood still stained the floors of the apothecary and even when the years caused it to fade, I would know it to still be there. I didn’t want Hazel to hurt herself. And I needed to make sure Lucinda wasn’t going to be by her side. “I think I would like to talk to Oswald. Maybe work with him. Spell work is a lot of combining different assets. I would like to see what he has and add my own spin to it?” She looked excited, almost. New spell work would keep her up late into the night. She enjoyed the puzzle aspect of it all and would pour over her notes until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. “If you did help us, would it just be… you?” Hazel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “Would it just be you helping?” Every time I had spoken to her, Lucinda had come up. I couldn’t afford to have that woman's hands on any of the lanterns. “Of course. Who else would he– oh.” Hazel’s head dropped. “Malcolm’s been telling stories.” “It’s not that, Hazel. It’s more of the fact that I don’t know her. And this is kind of a sensitive matter.” “No. I understand.” She ran her fingers through the glass for a minute, little bits of light sparking. I noticed the way her fingertips were darker. Rotted in places and stitched back together. “Would you still like my help?” she asked. “It would probably just be me. My mother doesn’t like to help much.” [[Only if it’s not going to cause you any problems]] [[What do you plan to tell her?]] [[I would love your help]] “I want you to help. More than anything, I want you to help. But only if it’s not going to cause you any problems.” I was eyeing the bruise on the side of her face. It was a bit faded now, the natural tone of her skin peeking through a dark hole of purplish black. Coming to the Outlands with me was all I wanted, and yet, I was worried about how broken her body would become with the mere decision. “Why would it cause me any problems?” Hazel asked. “I don’t know. You have a shop that you are running. Your mother.” Her brows shot up. “Is that what you think the problem is going to be? My mother? $name, she will be happy for me to be out of her hair. Would probably encourage it. Especially if she knows that it is something as big as this.” That was far more what I was afraid of. When Hazel rose, she stuck out her arms to either side, spinning around in a slow circle. She was beautiful at that moment. As the moonlight came down through the stained-glass, dancing across her skin, I fell in love with her all over again. She was a beacon of hope that was lost in the dark, and I just needed to help her find her way home. I just needed her back again. “It smells so good here,” she said with a soft sigh. “Have you ever smelt anything so clean?” “No,” I laughed. “I never thought I’d go to the Outlands. They are these scary stories that everyone tells to keep others in line. But, I’ve heard things, you know. How the monsters out here are buildings high. How when they purr the ground rumbles. I’m terrified of it, but it’s also exciting.” “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk like that before?” She looked at me over her shoulder, a curl falling down in front of her eyes. “Really?” “Really. The Hazel I knew was afraid to leave the shop.” Her laughter rang out and when a few crumbles of glass fell to the ground, she covered her mouth to silence herself. “Don’t get me wrong,” she whispered. “I’m terrified being out here. But, the alternative felt stifling. Life has felt a bit suffocating lately. Ever since the lights went off.” She picked a little at her skirts. There was a dried piece of kelp at the hem. “What happened when Malcolm found you?” I asked. “He said you weren’t at the apothecary.” “No. I was doing a delivery. I had to take a few things down to the crescent cavern.” The crescent cavern was near a small section on the opposite side of the pleasure district. It was made up of four alleyways with knocked down walls and several different families coexisting while they tried to find their own homes to live in. “But you were near the fish market. At the docks.” By the looks of it, in the water. Hazel paused. “Was I?” I remembered how she was last time. When she had killed those people. Unaware of what she was doing. I recalled Malcolm’s pale face. The way he looked shaken at what he had seen as he rushed his sister out of the market. To the only place he could think of to go. [[Do you even remember Malcolm taking you here?]] [[What exactly was your delivery?]] [[Hazel, are there a lot of blank spots in your memory]] “What do you plan to tell her?” I asked. In hindsight, bringing her to the lantern may have not been the wisest choice. Not with Lucinda involved. I would need to talk to Malcolm and see if we could run interference. If, that is, Malcolm remembered that his sister existed. There were plenty of times, as of late, that I would say Hazel’s name, and it looked as if it took him a moment to recall her face. “Everything,” Hazel said with a smile. “I mean, look at this place. It’s beautiful. Full of potent, ancient magic. If we can get this relit, there is not telling the type of magic that would be at our fingertips.” “And is that important to you? The magic?” “Shouldn’t it be important to all of us?” The magic had never been important to her. It was knowledge. Something to obtain. To study. But the possession of it was not something she had ever desired. I felt my stomach sink like a bed of rocks, knowing where that idea was stemming from. When Hazel rose, she stuck out her arms to either side, spinning around in a slow circle. She was beautiful at that moment. As the moonlight came down through the stained-glass, dancing across her skin, I fell in love with her all over again. She was a beacon of hope that was lost in the dark, and I just needed to help her find her way home. I just needed her back again. “It smells so good here,” she said with a soft sigh. “Have you ever smelt anything so clean?” “No,” I laughed. “I never thought I’d go to the Outlands. They are these scary stories that everyone tells to keep others in line. But, I’ve heard things, you know. How the monsters out here are buildings high. How when they purr the ground rumbles. I’m terrified of it, but it’s also exciting.” “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk like that before?” She looked at me over her shoulder, a curl falling down in front of her eyes. “Really?” “Really. The Hazel I knew was afraid to leave the shop.” Her laughter rang out and when a few crumbles of glass fell to the ground, she covered her mouth to silence herself. “Don’t get me wrong,” she whispered. “I’m terrified being out here. But, the alternative felt stifling. Life has felt a bit suffocating lately. Ever since the lights went off.” She picked a little at her skirts. There was a dried piece of kelp at the hem. “What happened when Malcolm found you?” I asked. “He said you weren’t at the apothecary.” “No. I was doing a delivery. I had to take a few things down to the crescent cavern.” The crescent cavern was near a small section on the opposite side of the pleasure district. It was made up of four alleyways with knocked down walls and several different families coexisting while they tried to find their own homes to live in. “But you were near the fish market. At the docks.” By the looks of it, in the water. Hazel paused. “Was I?” I remembered how she was last time. When she had killed those people. Unaware of what she was doing. I recalled Malcolm’s pale face. The way he looked shaken at what he had seen as he rushed his sister out of the market. To the only place he could think of to go. [[Do you even remember Malcolm taking you here?]] [[What exactly was your delivery?]] [[Hazel, are there a lot of blank spots in your memory]] “I would love your help,” I told her. Then, catching her eye, I held my breath. “In fact, there’s no one else I would trust with this.” The smile that broke across her face was bright enough to light the lanterns and the rest of the market in my opinion. “Thank you. I– it’ll feel nice to do something with my hands again. The apothecary has mostly just been brews and charms. I miss helping people.” “Don’t you help people at the apothecary? That was the entire point of it, wasn’t it?” “Well, yes. It’s just– the customers aren’t coming around as much. I guess with the walls closed off most people on my side of the market don’t need as much help. Most people need protection now. Which, I suppose, is still help, but some people have some funny ways to go about protection.” Hexes. I knew Hazel had dealt in them before, but I could only imagine how much worse it had gotten. When Hazel rose, she stuck out her arms to either side, spinning around in a slow circle. She was beautiful at that moment. As the moonlight came down through the stained-glass, dancing across her skin, I fell in love with her all over again. She was a beacon of hope that was lost in the dark, and I just needed to help her find her way home. I just needed her back again. “It smells so good here,” she said with a soft sigh. “Have you ever smelt anything so clean?” “No,” I laughed. “I never thought I’d go to the Outlands. They are these scary stories that everyone tells to keep others in line. But, I’ve heard things, you know. How the monsters out here are buildings high. How when they purr the ground rumbles. I’m terrified of it, but it’s also exciting.” “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk like that before?” She looked at me over her shoulder, a curl falling down in front of her eyes. “Really?” “Really. The Hazel I knew was afraid to leave the shop.” Her laughter rang out and when a few crumbles of glass fell to the ground, she covered her mouth to silence herself. “Don’t get me wrong,” she whispered. “I’m terrified being out here. But, the alternative felt stifling. Life has felt a bit suffocating lately. Ever since the lights went off.” She picked a little at her skirts. There was a dried piece of kelp at the hem. “What happened when Malcolm found you?” I asked. “He said you weren’t at the apothecary.” “No. I was doing a delivery. I had to take a few things down to the crescent cavern.” The crescent cavern was near a small section on the opposite side of the pleasure district. It was made up of four alleyways with knocked down walls and several different families coexisting while they tried to find their own homes to live in. “But you were near the fish market. At the docks.” By the looks of it, in the water. Hazel paused. “Was I?” I remembered how she was last time. When she had killed those people. Unaware of what she was doing. I recalled Malcolm’s pale face. The way he looked shaken at what he had seen as he rushed his sister out of the market. To the only place he could think of to go. [[Do you even remember Malcolm taking you here?]] [[What exactly was your delivery?]] [[Hazel, are there a lot of blank spots in your memory]] “Do you even remember Malcolm taking you here?” I asked. He had found her wandering. Said she was confused. And when she had stepped through the doorway, she still looked shaken. “Of course I do,” she protested. “He found me in the alley and asked if I wanted to come for a walk with him, and then we came here to this city.” “How did you get here?” I asked. “We walked.” “Anything special about the walk? The Outlands are far out from the market proper. It took Malcolm and I nearly a full day to get here.” “I…” she frowned. It was clear she didn’t remember. Malcolm was a hazy memory. Enough to fill in the blanks, but it all shattered the moment it was questioned. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, changing tactics. I must not have hidden my expression well. Or maybe old vestiges of her were shining through. “It just seems to me that you are struggling with some of your memories. And I’m worried. I’m kind of surprised you aren’t worried.” “Maybe I should be, but I feel at ease. I’ve felt a lot more at ease lately. It’s funny really. I remember having panic attacks when I left the apothecary. Not being able to go back down that alleyway. Crying if I had a delivery too far away. I would lay awake at night with a knife in hand, certain that there were these creatures outside my bedroom. But then my mother returned and it all went away.” [[You never acted as if your mother was a source of comfort before]] [[Do you consider that coincidence?]] [[And you don’t find that odd?]] “What exactly was your delivery?” I asked. “To the crescent cavern.” Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for this. An herb. A hex that had gone off. Opening her mouth, Hazel moved to tell me, but her words caught in her throat and her lips slowly closed again. “You don’t remember?” “No, I do,” she said. “It was… moonblood tea. To help the young mothers in there with making sure they did not get pregnant so soon after giving birth.” So why was she in the water? Where was the order? And why did something so simple take her so long to answer. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I must not have hidden my expression well. Or maybe old vestiges of her were shining through. “It just seems to me that you are struggling with some of your memories. And I’m worried. I’m kind of surprised you aren’t worried.” “Maybe I should be, but I feel at ease. I’ve felt a lot more at ease lately. It’s funny really. I remember having panic attacks when I left the apothecary. Not being able to go back down that alleyway. Crying if I had a delivery too far away. I would lay awake at night with a knife in hand, certain that there were these creatures outside my bedroom. But then my mother returned and it all went away.” [[You never acted as if your mother was a source of comfort before]] [[Do you consider that coincidence?]] [[And you don’t find that odd?]] “Hazel, are there a lot of blank spots in your memory?” I asked hesitantly. “You seem to be having a lot of moments like that. From what I know, at least.” Hazel shrugged. “My memory has always been a bit shaky.” It hadn’t. “It’s gotten worse, but it is now just little, insignificant things. I can still recite my spells. And I make a mean stew in the kitchen.” “You aren’t worried?” When I was lacking my own memory, the thoughts had consumed me. Hazel still remembered who she was but there was a large part of her day to day that had holes. That would have concerned me more. “No,” she said. “Maybe I should be, but I feel at ease. I’ve felt a lot more at ease lately. It’s funny really. I remember having panic attacks when I left the apothecary. Not being able to go back down that alleyway. Crying if I had a delivery too far away. I would lay awake at night with a knife in hand, certain that there were these creatures outside my bedroom. But then my mother returned and it all went away.” [[You never acted as if your mother was a source of comfort before]] [[Do you consider that coincidence?]] [[And you don’t find that odd?]] “You never acted as if your mother was a source of comfort before,” I said. “I know you may not remember, but we had some talks about her. And while you never spoke of her the way I hear Malcolm speak of her, you didn’t seem like you received a lot of motherly affection from her when you were young.” She nodded, mulling it over. Ever so slowly, she was starting to not get so spooked by the fact that she couldn’t remember me. “She was not the best mother when I was younger,” she admitted. “There were things she did that to this day feel like a weeping scar. But, I think it is different now. I can see how I had contributed to things when I was younger. I was not the best kid. I messed up a lot. And that caused her a lot of anger.” “Hazel, you were a good kid,” I tried to tell her. “But even more, you were a //kid//. She was the adult.” She waved me off, though, not truly listening to my words. “She was certainly not a source of comfort to me as a child, you are right. But she is an immense source of comfort to me as an adult. I feel blessed.” Another pane of glass fell, this one much closer to us. I looked up. “We should maybe head back to Oswald’s. Talk to him about the ritual and see if Malcolm has come back.” “He won’t,” she said. “Why do you say that?” “Because Malcolm Albright loves to disappoint people.” Standing, she brushed the glass from her skirts. I noticed a small spot of blood against the yellow patchwork but couldn’t be sure if it was from her own hands, or from someone else’s. “Trust me. Malcolm does a great job at being the pillar of a relationship. But in the end, he always leaves. He’s destined to disappoint. Don’t rely on him, $name.” I watched as she ducked out from the lantern.The same woman who had nearly bled herself dry, who had done countless things in the name of love for family, dismissed her own blood like it was nothing. I wondered if she remembered any of it. The way she cried when he said her name for the first time in ten years. How hard she wept when he died. I followed after her, falling in step beside her. I didn’t know what to say. This was my Hazel, but she was hurt. She was continuously being hurt. And all I could hope for was that the longer we kept her from her mother, the better off she’d be. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told her. “I know that this may be weird for you, but thank you for giving me a chance and trying to help.” “Of course,” she said softly. “I- I may not remember us. I may not even believe in us. But I wouldn’t let you suffer. I am not cruel, $name. I would never be cruel to you.” I may not even believe in us. As she walked away, I wondered if she knew just how cruel those words truly were. Because the wound over my heart stung, just like I had been stabbed all over again. [[Chapter Eight]]“Do you consider that a coincidence? Your mother's return and the new outlook on life?” “Of course not,” she laughed, as if the question itself was silly of me to even ask. “That is my mother's doing, through and through. And I get it. Given what she has done in the past, there are probably some people who are side eyeing that, but really, she has helped me so very much. I think death may have been the best thing for her. Burning in that fire allowed her to reemerge as something new. A better mother. A better woman. It’s truly inspiring. I only hope that one day something similar can happen to me.” My throat went dry. “Your mother died in a fire,” I whispered. “And look at the good it did her.” Another pane of glass fell, this one much closer to us. I looked up. “We should maybe head back to Oswald’s. Talk to him about the ritual and see if Malcolm has come back.” “He won’t,” she said. “Why do you say that?” “Because Malcolm Albright loves to disappoint people.” Standing, she brushed the glass from her skirts. I noticed a small spot of blood against the yellow patchwork but couldn’t be sure if it was from her own hands, or from someone else’s. “Trust me. Malcolm does a great job at being the pillar of a relationship. But in the end, he always leaves. He’s destined to disappoint. Don’t rely on him, $name.” I watched as she ducked out from the lantern.The same woman who had nearly bled herself dry, who had done countless things in the name of love for family, dismissed her own blood like it was nothing. I wondered if she remembered any of it. The way she cried when he said her name for the first time in ten years. How hard she wept when he died. I followed after her, falling in step beside her. I didn’t know what to say. This was my Hazel, but she was hurt. She was continuously being hurt. And all I could hope for was that the longer we kept her from her mother, the better off she’d be. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told her. “I know that this may be weird for you, but thank you for giving me a chance and trying to help.” “Of course,” she said softly. “I- I may not remember us. I may not even believe in us. But I wouldn’t let you suffer. I am not cruel, $name. I would never be cruel to you.” I may not even believe in us. As she walked away, I wondered if she knew just how cruel those words truly were. Because the wound over my heart stung, just like I had been stabbed all over again. [[Chapter Eight]]“And you don’t find that odd?” She frowned. “Why? Does Malcolm say I should?” “No,” I tried to recover. “I just think there has to be a correlation somewhere. I didn’t know if you had thought the same thing or if I’m just off base here.” The lines of her face smoothed out. “There is,” she admitted. “My mother and I have been working hard to overcome my fear. Lots of long talks and herbal teas. Lots of the two of us sharing what our life has been like. I think I was too young before. I don’t think I understood my mother. Having her back has made me see things in a different light.” I fought the urge to grimace. She was being manipulated in a way that she gladly accepted. Asked for, even. And if I was going to say anything against her mother, I ran the risk of losing her. “Does she put anything in those brews?” I tried to keep my voice innocent. The only thing working for me was that Hazel wasn’t innately suspicious. “She does. And I know what you’re thinking. But I know those herbs. I’ve replicated them. It’s nothing I haven’t made for anyone else. I just never thought to take them.” Another pane of glass fell, this one much closer to us. I looked up. “We should maybe head back to Oswald’s. Talk to him about the ritual and see if Malcolm has come back.” “He won’t,” she said. “Why do you say that?” “Because Malcolm Albright loves to disappoint people.” Standing, she brushed the glass from her skirts. I noticed a small spot of blood against the yellow patchwork but couldn’t be sure if it was from her own hands, or from someone else’s. “Trust me. Malcolm does a great job at being the pillar of a relationship. But in the end, he always leaves. He’s destined to disappoint. Don’t rely on him, $name.” I watched as she ducked out from the lantern.The same woman who had nearly bled herself dry, who had done countless things in the name of love for family, dismissed her own blood like it was nothing. I wondered if she remembered any of it. The way she cried when he said her name for the first time in ten years. How hard she wept when he died. I followed after her, falling in step beside her. I didn’t know what to say. This was my Hazel, but she was hurt. She was continuously being hurt. And all I could hope for was that the longer we kept her from her mother, the better off she’d be. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told her. “I know that this may be weird for you, but thank you for giving me a chance and trying to help.” “Of course,” she said softly. “I- I may not remember us. I may not even believe in us. But I wouldn’t let you suffer. I am not cruel, $name. I would never be cruel to you.” I may not even believe in us. As she walked away, I wondered if she knew just how cruel those words truly were. Because the wound over my heart stung, just like I had been stabbed all over again. [[Chapter Eight]]“I’m not sure if the Velvet Guard can be considered the root of evil,” I said with a sigh. It was a take that Deucalion looked surprised I would even have. “Oh? I think you may find many who would disagree with you there.” “The Velvet Guard are pawns,” I explained. “They follow orders and are trained not to think about the orders that they are given. They are told over and over again that they are making a difference. Doing good. Doing what others cannot. What do you think that rhetoric does to people.” “Sounds a bit like brainwashing,” Deucalion said. “You said it.” There was a grim look on his face that said he was thinking the exact same thing. “I’ve wandered a bit. Seen what I can see. Heard a whisper that you met old Oswald. Did he have any information for us?” “He wanted to talk with you, actually. Said that you two should compare notes.” “Well, then. It looks to me that I should be off, doing just that.” His skirts swished around him as he turned to leave. But he looked at me over his shoulder before going. “$name,” he called out, somewhat amused. “You are a bright star in this dead night. You understand that, do you not?” I raised a brow to him. “You don’t even know me.” “I do not need to know you to understand good when I see it. If this was another time, another place, I would be asking for your hand in courtship. Anyone you have in your life is lucky to know you.” [[You are a sweet man, Deucalion]] [[I’m taken]] [[Why wait for another life?]] “The Barons are corrupt. Before I could even remember who I was, I had figured that one out.” “With you being the Night Market, are you going to kick any of them out of their position of power?” I had thought about it. How I would go about it all. Once this issue with the lights were solved, I needed to sit in on one of their so-called Baron meetings. I couldn’t figure out what it was they even did there, given that nothing changed. “I’ll give them a chance,” I said. “See what they have to say for themselves. But there needs to be a new construction of power. I don’t mind having Baron’s but when they don’t do anything, or help when we are in crisis, I’m going to take issue with that.” There was a grim look on his face that said he was thinking the exact same thing. “I’ve wandered a bit. Seen what I can see. Heard a whisper that you met old Oswald. Did he have any information for us?” “He wanted to talk with you, actually. Said that you two should compare notes.” “Well, then. It looks to me that I should be off, doing just that.” His skirts swished around him as he turned to leave. But he looked at me over his shoulder before going. “$name,” he called out, somewhat amused. “You are a bright star in this dead night. You understand that, do you not?” I raised a brow to him. “You don’t even know me.” “I do not need to know you to understand good when I see it. If this was another time, another place, I would be asking for your hand in courtship. Anyone you have in your life is lucky to know you.” [[You are a sweet man, Deucalion]] [[I’m taken]] [[Why wait for another life?]] “I think there is something far bigger at play than what we are seeing,” I told him. “The Barons are negligent. The Guard is corrupt. Taliesin was up to something that I think is far grander than the scope of those two things put together. And now there are whispers of Ancients and there are doors not even the Gatekeeper understands, and the walls and lights are acting out in ways that only I should be able to control.” I turned to Deucalion fully. “I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface as to what is happening to this world.” “Do you think we will?” he asked. “If we don’t, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll survive.” There was a grim look on his face that said he was thinking the exact same thing. “I’ve wandered a bit. Seen what I can see. Heard a whisper that you met old Oswald. Did he have any information for us?” “He wanted to talk with you, actually. Said that you two should compare notes.” “Well, then. It looks to me that I should be off, doing just that.” His skirts swished around him as he turned to leave. But he looked at me over his shoulder before going. “$name,” he called out, somewhat amused. “You are a bright star in this dead night. You understand that, do you not?” I raised a brow to him. “You don’t even know me.” “I do not need to know you to understand good when I see it. If this was another time, another place, I would be asking for your hand in courtship. Anyone you have in your life is lucky to know you.” [[You are a sweet man, Deucalion]] [[I’m taken]] [[Why wait for another life?]] “You are a sweet man, Deucalion.” There was something charming about him. A way in which he was well suited to put even the most anxious at ease. I had to appreciate that about him. At the very least, he made the world not seem so dire. “That is not one I’ve been called before,” he said, rather pleased. “I’ll be making sure to let the boys down at the pub know the world thinks that of me.” I grinned. “Let me know if you need it in writing.” “Oh, I will,” he laughed. “I will. Now. I got to go see a big, burly man about some papers. Sexy times all around.” “Why don’t I come with you,” I suggested. I had chosen to come to the Outlands with just this man, and there was a part of me that felt far safer in numbers. Besides, I didn’t know if I could handle finding another giant lantern on my own. With his arm outstretched and a proverbial hat tip my way, the two of us linked arms. We headed down the street together, or steps tapping against the road in synch with his cane. It felt like an adventure of sorts. A better look on life. “Is this the part where we become best friends?” Deucalion asked. “Do you have a best friend?” He contemplated this for a moment. When Deucalion thought, he expressed it with his entire face. “Not for some time. The Night Market is the longest place I’ve ever stayed. Though I have friends, I cannot say they are my best.” “Guess you’re kind of trapped here, huh?” He looked at me incredulously. “Trapped? No, my darling. I am thriving here.” I had yet to hear someone say as such. There was obvious love for the Night Market, but there was also such an edge of despair. It was one thing that I noticed. Through the smiles of the ones we passed, there was such pain. Not Deucalion, however. “You see,” he continued. “Before coming here, I was hunted. Controlled in a way. Told to do all these nasty, terrible things, and I had no will about any of it. Magic is a bitch like that. It wraps around you so tight that you don’t even know you are suffocating.” “But magic is banned here,” I said with a small bit of understanding. “Well, ‘banned’,” he finger quoted at me. “The people who control my very being either haven’t figured out how loose that rule is, or they have not arrived here, yet. With any luck, they never will, and I can keep up my underground system of taking people back and forth to the Outlands. Delivering supplies. Being a menace for hire.” [[Who are the people who control you?]] [[How did you get here if you were being controlled?]] [[What happens if those people do find you?]] <<set $deucalionflirt to "false">>“I’m sorry, Deucalion. I’m taken.” Maybe he didn’t know that I was seeing anyone. I supposed it wasn’t quite what people thought when they knew I was the Night Market. Deucalion laughed loudly, though, finding my easy letdown delightful. “You are very much taken,” he said. “And I wouldn’t dream getting in the way of that. But, you just let me know if you ever want a third. Or need to make someone jealous.” He winked at me then, twirling his cane in a flourish, before turning towards the road that led towards Oswald. “Now. I got to go see a big, burly man about some papers. Sexy times all around.” “Why don’t I come with you,” I suggested. I had chosen to come to the Outlands with just this man, and there was a part of me that felt far safer in numbers. Besides, I didn’t know if I could handle finding another giant lantern on my own. With his arm outstretched and a proverbial hat tip my way, the two of us linked arms. We headed down the street together, or steps tapping against the road in synch with his cane. It felt like an adventure of sorts. A better look on life. “Is this the part where we become best friends?” Deucalion asked. “Do you have a best friend?” He contemplated this for a moment. When Deucalion thought, he expressed it with his entire face. “Not for some time. The Night Market is the longest place I’ve ever stayed. Though I have friends, I cannot say they are my best.” “Guess you’re kind of trapped here, huh?” He looked at me incredulously. “Trapped? No, my darling. I am thriving here.” I had yet to hear someone say as such. There was obvious love for the Night Market, but there was also such an edge of despair. It was one thing that I noticed. Through the smiles of the ones we passed, there was such pain. Not Deucalion, however. “You see,” he continued. “Before coming here, I was hunted. Controlled in a way. Told to do all these nasty, terrible things, and I had no will about any of it. Magic is a bitch like that. It wraps around you so tight that you don’t even know you are suffocating.” “But magic is banned here,” I said with a small bit of understanding. “Well, ‘banned’,” he finger quoted at me. “The people who control my very being either haven’t figured out how loose that rule is, or they have not arrived here, yet. With any luck, they never will, and I can keep up my underground system of taking people back and forth to the Outlands. Delivering supplies. Being a menace for hire.” [[Who are the people who control you?]] [[How did you get here if you were being controlled?]] [[What happens if those people do find you?]] <<set $deucalionflirt to "false">>“Why wait for another life?” I teased. The smile that stretched across his face was one of thrilled surprise. “You devil, you,” he purred. Stepping close, he tipped his head to the side, clearly admiring what he saw. “I will enjoy getting to know you. But alas, I need to go meet with a very burly man and look at papers. Not as sexy as I hoped, but equally as fun.” “Why don’t I come with you,” I suggested. I had chosen to come to the Outlands with just this man, and there was a part of me that felt far safer in numbers. Besides, I didn’t know if I could handle finding another giant lantern on my own. “Enjoy the life we have now, perhaps?” he said coyly. I made a show of sizing him up, admiring the long lines of his body and the curve of his jaw. Deucalion only tipped his head back and laughed wild, delighted by the display. With his arm outstretched and a proverbial hat tip my way, the two of us linked arms. We headed down the street together, or steps tapping against the road in synch with his cane. It felt like an adventure of sorts. A better look on life. “Is this the part where we become best friends?” Deucalion asked. “Do you have a best friend?” He contemplated this for a moment. When Deucalion thought, he expressed it with his entire face. “Not for some time. The Night Market is the longest place I’ve ever stayed. Though I have friends, I cannot say they are my best.” “Guess you’re kind of trapped here, huh?” He looked at me incredulously. “Trapped? No, my darling. I am thriving here.” I had yet to hear someone say as such. There was obvious love for the Night Market, but there was also such an edge of despair. It was one thing that I noticed. Through the smiles of the ones we passed, there was such pain. Not Deucalion, however. “You see,” he continued. “Before coming here, I was hunted. Controlled in a way. Told to do all these nasty, terrible things, and I had no will about any of it. Magic is a bitch like that. It wraps around you so tight that you don’t even know you are suffocating.” “But magic is banned here,” I said with a small bit of understanding. “Well, ‘banned’,” he finger quoted at me. “The people who control my very being either haven’t figured out how loose that rule is, or they have not arrived here, yet. With any luck, they never will, and I can keep up my underground system of taking people back and forth to the Outlands. Delivering supplies. Being a menace for hire.” [[Who are the people who control you?]] [[How did you get here if you were being controlled?]] [[What happens if those people do find you?]] <<set $deucalionflirt to "true">>“Who at the people who are controlling you?” I asked. There was a part of me that wondered if I needed to file that information away in the back of my mind. Make sure they could never get in. “The rich elite,” he said with a sigh. “Bit on the nose, but true all the same. I’m afraid my services were a desired commodity and therefore, my contract was one that was worth a pretty penny. Only the ones with money to burn took on such an illegal bit of magic. And then formed the correct laws to say it wasn’t illegal. I blinked at him, unable to fathom such a world. Yet, Deucalion didn’t seem bitter. Just matter of fact about it all. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” he asked. “I’m here now, are I not? Not a bad way to spend immortality.” I blinked at him. “You’re immortal.” It was then that Deucalion stopped. The city was in full swing around us, no one paying us any mind as they stepped around us, going about their day. “What do you say you and I get a drink,” Deucalion said. “Have a little get to know each other session.” “Aren’t we supposed to do a save the world session?” “I find everyone thinks a bit better with some liquid courage in their belly. Good conversation. No shop talk.” There was a large platform in the middle of the city that Deucalion led us to. We grabbed a few seats near the edge, having a perfect view of the falling lanterns beyond. Deucalion orders a tray of different mugs, some of them steaming, some of them crackling with crystallized bubbles. I hunched forward, feeling a bit tired, the journey catching up to me. “So,” Deucalion said, grabbing one of the small clear glasses and drinking the contents in one swift move. “Little ones are alcoholic. Bigger ones are not. Extra large ones will have you dancing on the bar and not remembering your name after a full glass, so be careful.” I leaned my head against my palm, staring at the drink. “Thanks for this,” I told him. “It’s nice to just sit down.” “You look like you need a bit of r and r.” “I haven’t really had it since getting back.” “Haven’t done anything for you?” Deucalion asked with a raised brow. When I shook my head, he leaned back in his seat, taking one of the large mugs with him. “What does the Night Market do for fun, if I may ask.” “Now? Or what did I use to do.” “Let’s go with now.” [[I had no answers]] [[Experience life]] [[This]] “How did you get here if you were being controlled? I’m assuming your captors wouldn’t have ordered you through the door. Unless they didn’t know.” He shook his head. “A door appeared right at the exact moment. My contract was in the midst of changing hands, and there is this one, beautiful moment of freedom that occurs when it is passed from one person to another. The exchange was happening. Names were being signed. And right behind me, this gorgeous, patina door appeared. I figured, what harm could it do? They’ll just snatch me back when they were done with their bullshit. So, I walked on through.” “And wound up here?” “Smack in the middle of the Fashion District,” he grinned. “Bought myself a new wardrobe the second I realized I wasn’t being controlled. Not a bad way to go about immortality.” I blinked at him. “You’re immortal.” It was then that Deucalion stopped. The city was in full swing around us, no one paying us any mind as they stepped around us, going about their day. “What do you say you and I get a drink,” Deucalion said. “Have a little get to know each other session.” “Aren’t we supposed to do a save the world session?” “I find everyone thinks a bit better with some liquid courage in their belly. Good conversation. No shop talk.” There was a large platform in the middle of the city that Deucalion led us to. We grabbed a few seats near the edge, having a perfect view of the falling lanterns beyond. Deucalion orders a tray of different mugs, some of them steaming, some of them crackling with crystallized bubbles. I hunched forward, feeling a bit tired, the journey catching up to me. “So,” Deucalion said, grabbing one of the small clear glasses and drinking the contents in one swift move. “Little ones are alcoholic. Bigger ones are not. Extra large ones will have you dancing on the bar and not remembering your name after a full glass, so be careful.” I leaned my head against my palm, staring at the drink. “Thanks for this,” I told him. “It’s nice to just sit down.” “You look like you need a bit of r and r.” “I haven’t really had it since getting back.” “Haven’t done anything for you?” Deucalion asked with a raised brow. When I shook my head, he leaned back in his seat, taking one of the large mugs with him. “What does the Night Market do for fun, if I may ask.” “Now? Or what did I use to do.” “Let’s go with now.” [[I had no answers]] [[Experience life]] [[This]] “What’s going to happen if those people do find you?” I asked him. “There are no doors going out of the market any longer.” “Meaning there are no doors coming in either,” he pointed out. “But, if the door situation is reversed, and they do manage to step on through, I suppose I will have to run again.” There was a finality to his words, but it left me feeling quite sad, in hindsight. To always be on the run from something. Never able to set down roots. It screamed of loneliness. “Do you not have any family to speak of? Anyone you want to get back to?” “Not any longer. They are all dead, I’m afraid. Curse of immortality.” I blinked at him. “You’re immortal.” It was then that Deucalion stopped. The city was in full swing around us, no one paying us any mind as they stepped around us, going about their day. “What do you say you and I get a drink,” Deucalion said. “Have a little get to know each other session.” “Aren’t we supposed to do a save the world session?” “I find everyone thinks a bit better with some liquid courage in their belly. Good conversation. No shop talk.” There was a large platform in the middle of the city that Deucalion led us to. We grabbed a few seats near the edge, having a perfect view of the falling lanterns beyond. Deucalion orders a tray of different mugs, some of them steaming, some of them crackling with crystallized bubbles. I hunched forward, feeling a bit tired, the journey catching up to me. “So,” Deucalion said, grabbing one of the small clear glasses and drinking the contents in one swift move. “Little ones are alcoholic. Bigger ones are not. Extra large ones will have you dancing on the bar and not remembering your name after a full glass, so be careful.” I leaned my head against my palm, staring at the drink. “Thanks for this,” I told him. “It’s nice to just sit down.” “You look like you need a bit of r and r.” “I haven’t really had it since getting back.” “Haven’t done anything for you?” Deucalion asked with a raised brow. When I shook my head, he leaned back in his seat, taking one of the large mugs with him. “What does the Night Market do for fun, if I may ask.” “Now? Or what did I use to do.” “Let’s go with now.” [[I had no answers]] [[Experience life]] [[This]] It should have been an easy question. What did I do for fun? What was fun? Lately, it seemed like one thing after another after another. An overwhelming problem that presented itself for me to fix. Thoughts that consumed me endlessly because the threat of the world was falling down around me bit by bit. The people I knew, I could not touch. The ones who I trusted, were physically left at a distance. I went home at night, if I even did, and slept by myself. I didn’t even think of fun. “That was not meant to be a thinker,” Deucalion said softly. I grimaced. “Life hasn’t really allowed much time for fun.” “When are you going to allow it to?” he asked curiously. I didn’t know. Life didn’t wait. Not for most, at least. But on the same flip of a coin, there would be no life left if I allowed myself to have too much fun. Across the table, Deucalion reached out for me, hand resting by mine. “Balance,” he said. “Life is about balance.” “Even with immortality?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. Deucalion grinned, leaning back and getting the hint. “I see what you did there.” “Someone says they are immortal, I’m not going to let that go. I want to know about the roots you put down. How you go about your life." “But, aren’t you immortal as well?” [[I hope not]] [[I’ve never really thought about it]] [[From one immortal to another]] “Experience life,” I told him. “Everything here is so vibrant. It’s full of color and sounds and experiences that I never got before. Growing up, or as growing up as I could do given what I am, I didn’t really have all of this. There wasn’t an option to go sit down somewhere with a friend and have a drink. There weren’t a lot of other people around that presented new perspectives. New events. Everything was the same. Controlled. Eventually, it became predictable.” “Boring, you mean?” I hugged out a small laugh. “A little, I suppose. And don’t get me wrong, some of the things I remember, are fascinating. They hold nostalgia for me. But when I was spending a good portion of my existence watching everyone here…” I trailed off with a shrug. “I was just kind of sick of being the person looking through the window. I wanted to be the one that others watched.” I frowned. “You know what I mean.” “I do.” The funny thing was, I believed him. Deucalion didn’t seem to have a deceiving bone in his body. He owned who he was and unapologetically lived that life. “To experience living is something that, even those who are doing it, do not always appreciate. The fact that you have such a grasp on how nuanced and lovely it all is, speaks highly for who you are.” I nodded, mulling this man over in my mind. “Do you struggle with that as well? You know, because you’re immortal?” Deucalion grinned. “I see what you did there.” “Someone says they are immortal, I’m not going to let that go. I want to know about the roots you put down. How you go about your life." “But, aren’t you immortal as well?” [[I hope not]] [[I’ve never really thought about it]] [[From one immortal to another]] “This,” I said. “Going out. Having conversations with people. It’s the connection with others that I enjoy the most. I just moved into Artisan Alley. There is an entire group of people there that I am excited to get to know.” “Have you had Kimber’s pies yet?” I smiled. “Yeah. Every time she sees me, she is trying to ply me with food. Her bakery seems popular, too. I don’t know if it ever closes.” “Kimber keeps things open for whoever needs it. She’s got a lot of energy, that one. And is completely forgetful. You have to sometimes remind her of your drink order six or seven times, but it’s always worth it in the end.” “Have you been going there for a while.” “Since they opened,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Which, actually, hasn’t been that long. That alley appeared out of nowhere less than a year ago, and the little trio that’s there took over. Slowly some others have moved in, but I think Kimber, Turner and Sawyer were the original ones. Tight little group, those three. The roots they have put down in so little time has been admirable.” “You ever think about putting down roots?” I asked. Deucalion was a wanderer. Despite staying in the night Market, he struck me as someone that was hard to pin down. “Or does immortality stop you.” Deucalion grinned. “I see what you did there.” “Someone says they are immortal, I’m not going to let that go.” “But, aren’t you immortal as well?” [[I hope not]] [[I’ve never really thought about it]] [[From one immortal to another]] “I hope not,” I told him. The thought of living forever. Of watching everyone else die. No one should have to go through that. And I understood. I was going to be longer living than others. Maybe too long. Coming here with no memory of myself was understandable in some context. It at least allowed me to live some semblance of a normal life, instead of knowing that the end of the ones around me was nowhere near the end of my own consciousness. “There is an advantage to living forever,” Deucalion said. “You can become very wise and make others believe you are far more intelligent than what you are.” I laughed. “Is that what you’ve been doing?” “No one would believe me if I tried to give advice. Immortality is not an easy thing to handle and while I would like to say it has brought wisdom, I have yet to retain any of it.” I highly doubted that, given what he did in his free time. But I would give him the self depreciation if it made him feel better. “And as for roots,” he continued. “I just haven’t found a reason yet. I’m not sure what could make me do so. Love, perhaps, but I’m not incredibly interested in it. Family, for certain, but that’s been unavailable to me for a long time.” “Why is that?” “Refuse to have one until I am safe. Children. Significant others. Why put them in that kind of danger?” [[Because love is worth it]] [[Life doesn’t always wait]] [[No, I agree]]“I’ve never really thought about it,” I told him, slowly rolling the word around in my head. I supposed I was. I wasn’t exactly sure how old I was at this point. If there was an end to my life. Pen would be the one to take it in the end. Holding me as I observed the last of my existence. “You are a forever entity,” Deucalion told me. “One of those eternal things that keeps on living long after the lives are dust.” “I don’t really know how I feel about that.” “Overwhelmed?” he asked. “Because I certainly would. I don’t know if I could put down roots in that situation. Let alone my own.” “But do you think its possible?” “I think you can,” Deucalion said. “I just haven’t found a reason yet. I’m not sure what could make me do so. Love, perhaps, but I’m not incredibly interested in it. Family, for certain, but that’s been unavailable to me for a long time.” “Why is that?” “Refuse to have one until I am safe. Children. Significant others. Why put them in that kind of danger?” [[Because love is worth it]] [[Life doesn’t always wait]] [[No, I agree]]“From one immortal to another, I am curious. Roots for us are different than roots for others.” “Ah,” he said. “But could we consider most market dwellers immortal as well? They are reborn, after all. If they desire.” “We could,” I said. “But from what I can tell, they live different lives. They don’t always come back as the same person. I guess that’s immortality but this, living in the same body, living the same linear life, can you put roots down?” “I think you can,” Deucalion said. “I just haven’t found a reason yet. I’m not sure what could make me do so. Love, perhaps, but I’m not incredibly interested in it. Family, for certain, but that’s been unavailable to me for a long time.” “Why is that?” “Refuse to have one until I am safe. Children. Significant others. Why put them in that kind of danger?” [[Because love is worth it]] [[Life doesn’t always wait]] [[No, I agree]] “Because love is worth it,” I told him. “And this is me speaking as someone that has not completely been in love yet. But, I have to believe that it is worth it. From everything I have observed, people do so much for love. It is the driving force in this world. In most people’s lives. And sometimes it’s bad but for the most part, I see so much good come from it.” “But the danger,” he reminded me. “I don’t know how I can justify it.” “I don’t know if you can live your life in the fear that someone is going to get hurt,” I responded. “Because, yes, you can always say ‘what if this one thing happens’ but what if it doesn’t as well?” “Is that why you do all this?” he asked, gesturing around us. “Trying so hard to right the wrongs of the world.” “Aside from the fact that this is my existence and these lanterns are intrinsically tied to it?” He smirked. “Yes. You will probably go on living if this world ends. Maybe you will be subdued for a spell. Maybe you will fall asleep. Or maybe, you will move on to create something else.” “You don’t know that. If this world ends, I will too.” “Immortality, my dear,” he pointed out. “You do not cease to exist, remember?” That took me back for a moment. I hadn’t thought of it like that yet. Was there really no end to me at all? If we failed, would I go on living with that failure in my hands. “I suppose I am asking why you’ve never called this world a wash,” Deucalion said. “There is corruption. Pain. It is sizably bigger than when you started. Why not start over?” [[I will. As a last resort]] [[Why do you assume starting over is going to be any better?]] [[That is a horrendous thought]] “Life doesn’t always wait,” I told him. “Sometimes I feel like we need to seize opportunities when they come along because we don’t know when they will happen again. There is always going to be pain. There is always going to be a reason to not do something.” “Does obtaining something and then losing something outweigh the pain?” Deucalion asked curiously. The past had a way of haunting the future. Whatever the reason, Deucalion was asking this line of question, felt far more intimate than what he was letting on. “I don’t know if you can know that until you are in it,” I said. “Everyone is different. Everyone responds to life differently. For me, I want the joy when I can have it. It makes the pain a little easier to handle.” “Is that why you do all this?” he asked, gesturing around us. “Trying so hard to right the wrongs of the world.” “Aside from the fact that this is my existence and these lanterns are intrinsically tied to it?” He smirked. “Yes. You will probably go on living if this world ends. Maybe you will be subdued for a spell. Maybe you will fall asleep. Or maybe, you will move on to create something else.” “You don’t know that. If this world ends, I will too.” “Immortality, my dear,” he pointed out. “You do not cease to exist, remember?” That took me back for a moment. I hadn’t thought of it like that yet. Was there really no end to me at all? If we failed, would I go on living with that failure in my hands. “I suppose I am asking why you’ve never called this world a wash,” Deucalion said. “There is corruption. Pain. It is sizably bigger than when you started. Why not start over?” [[I will. As a last resort]] [[Why do you assume starting over is going to be any better?]] [[That is a horrendous thought]] “No, I agree,” I told him. “I have similar views. Being who I am, I do sometimes wonder what I am doing to the ones in my life. I don’t know what being the Night Market contains. Do I continue to function independent of this form? Does that even make me the Night Market anymore? Will I have to go back? If something we do together causes a problem, does that cause an even bigger problem for the world at large.” “That is a lot to think about,” he said. “Problems I do not envy. And ones I do not want to have. Hence, being a loner, wandering the wastes with my trusty cane.” I raised a brow to him. “And going to a bakery,” I pointed out. “And apparently being hired by a Baron. Which means you are known within very high circles. I’m not sure how much of a loner that truly is.” “Semi loner,” he laughed. “The kind that is selective for the time being.” “Admit it. You just love traveling the Outlands. You seem like you are a people person.” “That, I will agree with.” Tipping his glass to me, he took another drink, lips pink with whatever the contents were. “So, I have to ask. Why do all this?” “Aside from the fact that this is my existence and these lanterns are intrinsically tied to it?” He smirked. “Yes. You will probably go on living if this world ends. Maybe you will be subdued for a spell. Maybe you will fall asleep. Or maybe, you will move on to create something else.” “You don’t know that. If this world ends, I will too.” “Immortality, my dear,” he pointed out. “You do not cease to exist, remember?” That took me back for a moment. I hadn’t thought of it like that yet. Was there really no end to me at all? If we failed, would I go on living with that failure in my hands. “I suppose I am asking why you’ve never called this world a wash,” Deucalion said. “There is corruption. Pain. It is sizably bigger than when you started. Why not start over?” [[I will. As a last resort]] [[Why do you assume starting over is going to be any better?]] [[That is a horrendous thought]] “I will. As a last resort. I don’t want to do it unless I have to. But if this world has no course towards the future?” I let myself trail off. I didn’t want to think of it. The idea of committing this world to an end. But, I would if I had to. I would if it would reduce harm. I just didn’t know where that line would be. “I do not envy your position,” he said softly, looking genuinely saddened by the thought. I deflated a bit, feeling a bit more at ease now that I knew he wasn’t genocidal for the sake of the easier path. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound preachy like that.” “No. I like it. Do you know how many benevolent being out there do not care one whit about the people they claim to adore. They treat their charges like dolls in a fucked up little house. You, do not.” “No. I became one of the dolls.” “To each their own. I see no problem in it. In fact, I think it might be what sets you aside from the others. You have come down from your ivory tower, $name. And you have actually decided to care. Don’t ever discredit that. You are doing a good thing.” I sat with that. When I thought of things like the Knowing, i wondered how much stock they actually took in the ones they demanded adoration from. Even the Barons were set aside from the rest. Not wandering through with their people. There was a distance between the beings that were meant to protect and the ones that relied on them. They did not intermingle. They did not form important connections. The ones that made of the entire world around them were just nameless nobodies. I didn’t want to be like that. Picking up a mug, I held it out to Deucalion. “Cheers,” I said. “To immortality and to giving a shit.” Deucalion grinned. “Cheers to not being a sociopath. May we all strive to do so.” Clinking our mugs together, we sat back and drank. And for the first time since getting back, there were not conversation of the lanterns. How we were going to solve the world's problems, or how I was feeling about the events that transpired. There was just me and Deucalion and a lifetime of stories between us. [[Next|Chapter Seven Deucalion 2]] “Why do you assume starting over is going to be any better?” I asked him. “Starting over doesn’t always make things ‘right’. Seeing a problem, and identifying what’s wrong, is far better. The same problems could exist if we make the same mistakes. Or worse problems could arise.” “I don’t assume it will be better. I’m more curious as to your thought process.” “I guess I don’t know. I just don’t think throwing away something that is already in motion is going to be the best result. But it might be the only way in certain situations.” “A very diplomatic opinion.” I deflated a bit, feeling a bit more at ease now that I knew he wasn’t genocidal for the sake of the easier path. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound preachy like that.” “No. I like it. Do you know how many benevolent being out there do not care one whit about the people they claim to adore. They treat their charges like dolls in a fucked up little house. You, do not.” “No. I became one of the dolls.” “To each their own. I see no problem in it. In fact, I think it might be what sets you aside from the others. You have come down from your ivory tower, $name. And you have actually decided to care. Don’t ever discredit that. You are doing a good thing.” I sat with that. When I thought of things like the Knowing, i wondered how much stock they actually took in the ones they demanded adoration from. Even the Barons were set aside from the rest. Not wandering through with their people. There was a distance between the beings that were meant to protect and the ones that relied on them. They did not intermingle. They did not form important connections. The ones that made of the entire world around them were just nameless nobodies. I didn’t want to be like that. Picking up a mug, I held it out to Deucalion. “Cheers,” I said. “To immortality and to giving a shit.” Deucalion grinned. “Cheers to not being a sociopath. May we all strive to do so.” Clinking our mugs together, we sat back and drank. And for the first time since getting back, there were not conversation of the lanterns. How we were going to solve the world's problems, or how I was feeling about the events that transpired. There was just me and Deucalion and a lifetime of stories between us. [[Next|Chapter Seven Deucalion 2]] “That is a horrendous thought,” I told him. “Just calling this world a wash because it is too hard for me? That’s so many lives, so many families and memories and futures, all just blotted out because I didn’t want to do the hard work to make things better? Who thinks like that?” I found myself heated. The idea that Deucalion could even think such a thing, entirely sickening. But he was smiling at me. With his drink in hand, he was just staring at me with such joy. “Immortality warps people,” he said. “I’ve seen it time and time again. I was wondering if it had done so to you yet. It is clear to see it has not.” I deflated a bit, feeling a bit more at ease now that I knew he wasn’t genocidal for the sake of the easier path. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound preachy like that.” “No. I like it. Do you know how many benevolent being out there do not care one whit about the people they claim to adore. They treat their charges like dolls in a fucked up little house. You, do not.” “No. I became one of the dolls.” “To each their own. I see no problem in it. In fact, I think it might be what sets you aside from the others. You have come down from your ivory tower, $name. And you have actually decided to care. Don’t ever discredit that. You are doing a good thing.” I sat with that. When I thought of things like the Knowing, i wondered how much stock they actually took in the ones they demanded adoration from. Even the Barons were set aside from the rest. Not wandering through with their people. There was a distance between the beings that were meant to protect and the ones that relied on them. They did not intermingle. They did not form important connections. The ones that made of the entire world around them were just nameless nobodies. I didn’t want to be like that. Picking up a mug, I held it out to Deucalion. “Cheers,” I said. “To immortality and to giving a shit.” Deucalion grinned. “Cheers to not being a sociopath. May we all strive to do so.” Clinking our mugs together, we sat back and drank. And for the first time since getting back, there were not conversation of the lanterns. How we were going to solve the world's problems, or how I was feeling about the events that transpired. There was just me and Deucalion and a lifetime of stories between us. [[Next|Chapter Seven Deucalion 2]] The next morning arrived with the sound of tinkling glass. At first, I assumed it to be the lanterns falling from the night sky. Piles of multicolored shards gathering together until they could be pushed away by early morning street sweepers. But when I heard the sound of water running, and something placed by my head, I jumped awake with a start. I was still at the bar. The drinking hole that Deucalion and I had laughed away our evening was completely empty by now, with only the bartender from the night before. The night had ended in exhaustion, both Deucalion and I realized that we needed sleep but had planned nowhere to stay. He suggested going back to Oswald's, but I had been dead on my feet. The bartender said I could crash there. She often let the drunks do so instead of wandering home, and had roll out cots and blankets for just such an incident. I remembered putting my head down on the table for just a minute. I must have fallen asleep right then and there. “Morning.” The bartender was a young woman with hair like spun wheat and skin a russet brown. She scooted the water a bit closer. When she moved, I could smell the wafting scent of breakfast coming from somewhere behind her. “I would have moved you, but you looked like you had fallen into a dreamless sleep. Those are priceless.” I sat up, wiping the drool from my face and grabbing at the water. “Thanks,” I told her, albeit a bit sheepishly. I hadn’t understood just how exhausted I had truly been. “Where’s Deucalion? Uh, the friend I was with last night.” “Here.” I turned, watching as Deucalion came walking up the road, his cane tapping against the ground. The bartender smiled at the two of us before disappearing into the back. It left us alone. There was no one else around. Sitting up straighter, I downed the water, washing out the taste of morning. Deucalion came and stood next to me, his eyes darting around the bar. “Everything okay?” I asked him. He shook his head, eyes darting around. “We need to leave. Now.” That startled me awake, the last vestiges of sleep leaving me. “What happened? Did you go talk to Oswald? I thought he was going to help us with a ritual for the other lanterns.” Our only lead right now was this big broken lantern in the middle of the cavern. And we didn’t know when the path to this city was going to open up again. “He still is. And the next time the path opens up, I can take you back out here,” Deucalion said. “But for now, if we stay, there is no telling how long we will be here. And I was given explicit instructions to bring you back to the market proper. I am not one to really go back on the job I was given.” The idea of the way home falling away as we were traveling through the Outlands was not comforting. “The path is closing?” Deucalion looked like he was going to say no, but even he looked nervous about the trip that was before all of us. “Yes. If we go now, we have a chance,” Deucalion said. “But we have to go. Staying is just not an option.” [[I want to talk to Oswald before we leave]] [[No. I think we should stay]] “I think I would like to talk to Oswald first,” I said slowly. “Before we go.” “We don’t have //time//. What are you not understanding about this?” It was when Deucalion took a step forward, that I heard it. The small jangling of bells that haunted my dreams. It was on the wind, sounding from the earring that Deucalion now wore. “You're ’s not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the mans dark skin as he lunged at me. I danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling me that the path to the market was going to close,” I said. “Trying to get us out of here now.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” I blinked. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next]] <</if>>“I think we should stay,” I told him. “We’re here for the lanterns and if the path closes, then it closes. It’ll open again. Clearly, these people are getting things from the main market. There is always a third option when a problem arises.” <<if $companion == "deucalion">>“We don’t have time to look at another way,” Deucalion was saying. He came around behind me, trying to usher me from the bar, looking over his shoulder towards where the bartender had disappeared. <<elseif $companion == "herald">> "We don't have time to look at another way," he was saying. He came around behind me, trying to usher me away from the lanterns. "Herald and Turner are up there," I said. "I'll come back for them. We just need to get you through. That's what I was contracted to do.<</if>> I looked around, trying to gather my thoughts. “People come and go from this place frequently. The commerce here is active. Maybe it's just a matter of going to another city for a night. Giving us more time here but allowing us to still get out before they close. Then we can travel to the market proper from there.” “No,” Deucalion said. “This is not an option.” There was something different about his voice. The soft lilt of his accent was harsher around the edges. There was a tone that rounded his syllables far more than the entire trip here. <<if $companion == "deucalion">> It was not the calm and carefree man I had spent the evening with before. <</if>> “Oswald didn’t say anything to me about the path closing,” I stated curiously. “We just learned about it.” “Belladonna told me that the path was open once a month like clockwork. No one has said anything about a time limit out here.” “Every second we question this, is another moment we are going to lose. Don’t you want to get back to the market? Get back to the ones you love?” I took a large step back, distancing myself from him. “Deucalion, are you feeling alright?” “I’m a little worried about getting back to the market. A fact that you do not seem to be concerned about.” There had always been humor in his voice before. A way in which he spoke that said he greeted life as it came. That worries were a part of the world but they could always be talked through. But there was none of that now. [[Maybe we should double-check the information about this path|Deucalion split]] [[Deucalion, did something else happen?|Deucalion split 2]] [[I think I would like to talk to Oswald first|Deucalion split 3]] “Maybe we should double-check the information about this path.” There was something not sitting right with me. Something didn’t add up and with me not being fully awake, I felt off my guard. “You don’t trust me?” There was something in the way Deucalion tipped his head. My body revolted at the sight of it. “You’re not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. I stumbled back just as Deucalion lunged. His limbs were cracking to the side, not moving the way they should. As he looked at me, his head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the jeering look in his eyes lit up with murder. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the man's dark skin as he lunged at me. I danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing, and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling me that the path to the market was going to close.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” I blinked at him. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” Oswald nodded. “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next]] <</if>>“Deucalion,” I began. “Did something else happen?” He was supposed to just go to Oswald's last night. Though, I hadn’t seen the man as I came to the hanging lanterns. And once I was inside, I had blocked out the rest of the world until dawn. “I don’t think you are understanding the full scope of what will happen if our path to the market is blocked,” Deucalion said. “So, instead of continuing to be obtuse, put one foot in front of the other, and follow me.” “You’re not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. I stumbled back just as Deucalion lunged. His limbs were cracking to the side, not moving the way they should. As he looked at me, his head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the jeering look in his eyes lit up with murder. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the man's dark skin as he lunged at me. I danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing, and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling me that the path to the market was going to close.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” I blinked at him. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” Oswald nodded. “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next]]<</if>>“I think I would like to talk to Oswald first,” I said slowly. “Before we go.” “We don’t have //time//. What are you not understanding about this?” It was when Deucalion took a step forward, that I heard it. The small jangling of bells that haunted my dreams. It was on the wind, sounding from the earring that Deucalion now wore. “You’re not Deucalion,” I stated, my heart plummeting. I stumbled back just as Deucalion lunged. His limbs were cracking to the side, not moving the way they should. As he looked at me, his head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the jeering look in his eyes lit up with murder. I remembered the same look that night. When I was out by the fountain, the lights still lingering in the sky. He had hidden behind a mask then. One that covered his eyes and cheeks but left that sneering mouth free. “How are you here?” I breathed, staring at what should have been Deucalion. A bent smile appeared over the man's dark skin as he lunged at me. I danced out of the way, causing a loud burst of laughter to trickle from his throat. “I told you I’d get out,” Deucalion said. “Think I was lying?” He came closer, his body bent to one side now, his skin looking waxy. “You have no idea what is coming, Night Market. But I do. Just come back with me and I’ll tell you.” My heart was racing, and I had the urge to kill the man where he stood. But if there was any chance that it was still Deucalion…. “Come back with you? Where?” “Home,” he said with a chapped sputter. That liminal space within. Where I had wandered through memories. A doll observing a tea party. “Come back and dance with me,” Deucalion breathed. He made to lunge towards me once again, hands outstretched into curled claws. But a large staff came down, cracking across his head. Deucalion fell like a sack of bones. Oswald panted as he looked down at Deucalion's body. I hadn’t seen him come near and now wondered how many others were hiding in the shadows. Crouching down, Oswald pressed his hand to the man's chest, muttering something as the pink fire from his lantern burned from his palm and shot through Deucalion's chest. His back arched as something black shot from him. The gnarled form of a man with a bone white mask shot from him screaming into the air with a jingle of bells before disappearing into nothing. “Well then,” Oswald said. “That’s a new one.” “Taliesin,” I breathed. “That was Taliesin.” Oswald stood, stretching his back. “He was beginning to act weird in the middle of last night. Something about it made me want to come see him this morning. And I guess my instincts weren’t wrong.” “He was telling me that the path to the market was going to close.” “Well, that’s simply not true. Even if the path does close, I have a way back to the market proper.” I blinked at him. “You what?” “I have a way back to the market proper. I don’t use it often because I’d rather it stay hidden, but it’s how I smuggle people out from the auction block. Thank the light they stopped that.” He stood up a little straighter, brushing his hands off on his knees. “If you need to get to and from, I can open the door for you. I do trust you, Night.” If Taliesin was here, we were going to need help. Not only because there was a broken lantern, but we didn’t know how he had wormed his way in to Deucalion. “Can we bring someone here?” Oswald nodded. “Who are you wanting to bring?” <<if $hazelro == "true">> Hazel. I wanted Hazel by my side. More than anything I wanted to go back to the days where I could reach for her when my heart was racing. Where we could sit in the evening and have tea. But while I wanted her by my side, she did not remember me. There was nothing she could do out here, even if I could convince her to leave her mother. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Hazel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Hazel]] <<elseif $gabrielro == "true">> Gabriel. More than anything I wanted him by my side. His sheer presence brought a certain amount of safety and comfort that I needed right about now. But he was not of his right mind. His thoughts were scattered to the wind, controlled by the Knowing. Not to mention he was part of the Velvet Guard. The very group that sent most of the citizens into exile. I would have to make do with someone else for now, and hope that when I got back, I would be able to find him the help he needed. [[So I would have to go with Belladonna|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Milo|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] [[So I would have to go with Malcolm|Chapter Seven Gabriel]] <<elseif $belladonnaro == "true">>”Belladonna Malady,” I told him. “She is a Baron. She might be able to add perspective to what’s happening here.” And, if we were being honest, I wanted to see her lay into Taliesin if he even came near me. [[Next|Belladonna Malady]] <<elseif $miloro == "true">> “Milo Next,” I told him. “He is the current Gatekeeper and someone who worked closely with Taliesin. I think he is the person we need out here.” [[Next|Milo Next]] <</if>>“Belladonna,” I said, firmly. “She’s a Baron. She’s going to be able to provide some answers, and in the end, we need to have the Baron’s more aware of what is happening out here. I’m done with them not taking more of a hand in this.” Oswald nodded. "I can get a small message through. It would be best if you stayed near the door. A beacon of sorts to pull her through. Will she become worried about the door at all? Does she know what they are?" "She'll be fine," I said. I had no clue if Belladonna had used a door since coming to the market but the woman would not hesitate. Not if Oswald put in the message that she needed to come to me. With a determined look, he turned his gaze towards the door. Something was glowing between the palms of his hand and it was then that I realized the ball of light that was coalesing there. As he raised it above his head, he spoke in a language I did not recognize. Something I wasn't even sure was possible here. The light shot off, through the door, not even distrubing the energy that crackled within the frame. "Now, we wait," Oswald said. "How long?" "As long as it takes." To that, I could agree. [[Next|Chapter Seven Belladonna]] I was looking at Oswald, feeling my heart hammer inside my chest. “Milo,” I said. “He’s the current Gatekeeper.” And the one who had last dealt with Taliesin besides me. Oswald’s eyes went wide, voice dropping as he leaned towards us. “The current Gatekeeper? Are you certain? Others may know his identity if you do this. Should he be risking it?" It was time that the Gatekeeper came to light. At least in situations like this. I wasn't going to advertise that Milo was the Gatekeeper, but he needed to do his job at the same time. "He's best suited for this," I said, holding firm. The man looked as if he had just been handed the best present he had ever received. He was smiling, laughing deep from his belly as he stood straight again. “Well then, let me just get this boy here all locked up, and then we’ll get you through.’’ I stared down at Deucalion. He looked as if he was asleep. How Taliesin even made his way inside was beyond me. Pressing my hand to my chest, I felt the key scar that was there from that fateful night. The last time I had seen Taliesin, he had been trapped. Beyond help. Stuck forever inside my subconscious. But if he was here now, then it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. “What do we do about him?” I asked. Oswald waved me off. “I’ll take care of him. Hopefully, when he wakes, he’ll be Deucalion. Not whatever it was that was possessing him.” Without a thought, Oswald bent down, picking up Deucalion without much effort. Tossing him over his shoulder, he began walking away, leaving me to follow. We ended up putting Deucalion in a small hut near Oswald's house. Despite the walk, he didn’t wake. He didn’t even move. There were several people outside the hut that looked as if they were guarding it, while Oswald brought us to the backside of the basin. Three feet off the ground was a stained-glass door. It blended into the rest of the walls. With a determined look, he turned his gaze towards the door. Something was glowing between the palms of his hand and it was then that I realized the ball of light that was coalesing there. As he raised it above his head, he spoke in a language I did not recognize. Something I wasn't even sure was possible here. The light shot off, through the door, not even distrubing the energy that crackled within the frame. "How long will it--" But I didn't even get my sentence out before the door started to ripple. Milo stepped through, a ball of light in his hand. It fluttered before bolting back to Oswald. Here, in the Outlands, Milo's eyes looked brighter. He squinted a little, as if it affected him, before his eyes settled on me. [[Next|Chapter Seven Milo 2]] The rooms in question were large, refurbished lanterns. They were attached to chains that could be cranked up into the metal trees, the limbs made from recycles tin and bits of salvage collected from the outskirts of the city. There was a hand crank inside that I assumed would pull us up to swing with the other lanterns. Several of which looked like they were already locked in for the night. Herald had a protesting Turner in his arms, walking him towards the lantern. I ended up following, wanting to lend my hand however I could. Once inside, Herald placed turner on the bed and I began cranking the wheel to pull the lantern room towards the sky, providing us with privacy. The owner had practically ran away already, disappearing inside the office before Turner could make us change our mind. Currently, Turner was squirming on the bed, past words at this point as he sat, glaring at his boyfriend. Once the lantern was all the way up, I latched it to hold it in place. The wind swayed the room slightly, rocking us gently back and forth. “There now,” Herald was saying, his voice calm. “We’re away from people. No one is gonna get up here. No one is gonna see ya like this. You're safe now, Turner.” Turner was still glaring, but he wasn’t protesting this time. He seemed to be trying to take even breaths instead. But his lips were turning blue, and I knew that this man was hurt beyond what normal rest was going to be able to do for him. “What about ?them?” he asked, looking at me. [[I want to help, Turner]] [[I can leave]] [[You need to get medical attention]] “I want to help, Turner,” I tried softly. I was trying to follow Herald’s lead and keep myself calm. Meeting any of Turner’s energy was a recipe for disaster, and I was pretty certain that whatever was going on with him, stemmed from some sort of damage to his heart. I hadn’t seen what the beast had done to turner. Or if it had even done something, or if Turner had fallen in the dark. “I don’t need anyone's fucking help,” Turner wheezed. “Go about whatever it is we came here to do. We don’t need to be fucking sitting here discussing me.” Herald sighed loudly, catching the direction of Turner’s ire. “We can do both.” “I can take care of my fucking self.” I stepped forward. “You can,” I told Turner. “But, if Herald and I can help you feel better, we want to. It’ll free us up to deal with the lanterns.” Herald looked at Turner sternly. “You need to listen to the Night Market. Stop being impolite.” Turner pulled a face, as if he was going to mock his boyfriend, but instead, he fell into a fit of coughs. I looked at Herald helpless, feeling like our window of time to help the man was closing. Leaning in close, Herald steadied Turner, holding him until the coughs waned. “I know you hate this,” Herald whispered to him. “I know this makes you feel weak. But we do not have time. It’ll be done and over with quickly. I don’t have my tools or else I would do it myself.” Turner’s eyes ticked towards him, seeming to understand why there was an insistence for me to stay. “Let me just do it,” he said with a last ditch effort. Herald kissed him softly, letting the man melt. When he pulled away, he rubbed a thumb beneath his eyes, gently caressing his cheek. “No,” he said. Turner didn’t have it in him to argue. I had kept my head turned a bit, not wanting to intrude on the softness of this moment. Herald’s large, stitched hands, were strong and capable, and held onto Turner in a way that looked as if it calmed him. Turner was growing tired, his eyelids heavy, and his entire body looking as if it slumped forward, wanting to stay close to Herald. [[Next|Chapter Seven Hearald/Turner 2]] “I can leave,” I told them. It was clear that Turner did not want me here. Turner didn’t ever want anyone around, if I was reading him right. But Herald was different. “I’m afraid, $name, we will need your help. Turner has some internal damage and I have lost my tools.” Turner’s eyes went wide. “You don’t have your tools? You didn’t bring them?” Herald gave him a withering look. “Of course, I brought them. But they were lost in the scuffle in the Outlands. Which means that I am going to need $name.” “I can wait,” Turner protested. “You won’t.” “Fuck you, Herald. This is my fucking body and I get to decide on who gets to fucking mess around with it.” I couldn’t say that I entirely disagreed with him. If it wasn’t for the way his chest rattled, I would have left right then and there. But Herald was close by, looking at Turner with a stern, unmovable expression. Turner wasn’t withering under it. I didn’t think he was a man that withered. But he did flinch as he was forced to focus on the pain coursing through him. “Fine,” he muttered after a long moment. Leaning forward, Herald kissed him softly, his thumb running beneath his eyes. “I’ve got you,” he told him. Turner leaned into his head momentarily before nodding. I had kept my head turned a bit, not wanting to intrude on the softness of this moment. Herald’s large, stitched hands, were strong and capable, and held onto Turner in a way that looked as if it calmed him. Turner was growing tired, his eyelids heavy, and his entire body looking as if it slumped forward, wanting to stay close to Herald. [[Next|Chapter Seven Hearald/Turner 2]] “You need to get medical attention,” I told Turner. “I’m worried about you. We don’t know what that beast out there has done to you. Something internal could be wrong.” “Something internal is wrong,” Herald said. Turner shot him a dirty look. “Herald.” “Turner, I’m gonna need help. We need to check your heart. Since we don't have Sawyer or my father, I’m gonna need $name to help me.” “You can do it on your own,” Turner said. “You’ve done it before.” There was a degree of desperation to Turner’s voice, his eyes flicking wildly back and forth between me and Herald, as if he was also looking for a way to escape. Herald looked rueful. “I lost my pack out there. I do not have my tools.” Turner began to panic, his breath wheezing in and out once more as he scooted back on the bed. Herald followed him though, cupping his cheek and pulling his gaze so it rested solely on him. “You can trust $name,” he said. “It’s okay to trust other people, Turner. I know this makes you uncomfortable, and I hate that I am putting you in this position, but we don’t got a lot of options at the moment. I’m gonna need you to take some deep breaths about this all.” Turner was breathing through his nose now, his fingers gripping Herald’s tunic. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. Dipping his head forward, Herald ran a soothing hand down his back. “I never would.” I had kept my head turned a bit, not wanting to intrude on the softness of this moment. Herald’s large, stitched hands, were strong and capable, and held onto Turner in a way that looked as if it calmed him. Turner was growing tired, his eyelids heavy, and his entire body looking as if it slumped forward, wanting to stay close to Herald. [[Next|Chapter Seven Hearald/Turner 2]] After a moment of silence, Herald called out for me. “$name, can you come here. I need to show you something.” I took a step towards the bed, watching as Turner was laid back on it, Herald pulling his shirt over his head. There was a square scar on Turner’s chest. I vaguely remember seeing the top of it when I visited him at his shop. His shirt and fallen open just enough to see the beginning pink lines. Turner threw an arm over his eyes, ignoring the two of us. “Turner has a heart condition,” Herald began. “It’s something that needs to be monitored, and my father usually does that for him. However, I think somethin’ got jostled out in the Outlands. I need to open him up and see what we’re workin’ with. And if there’s something out of place, I’m gonna need to get you to move it back.” “Move it back?” I didn’t know what Herald though my abilities were, but the human heart was not an organ I felt like I was qualified to mess with. “Just fucking show ?them,” Turner snapped. “I’m a fucking freak, and it’s best we just announce it to the fucking world.” Herald sighed, pushing Turners hair from his eyes. “Freak or not, you need your heart checked.” “Why are you agreeing that I’m a freak?” Turner practically yelled. “‘Cause you’re obviously fixated on some self-pity right now, and I would rather agree with you so we can get your heart checked than argue with you about it all.” “Self pity. Yeah, fearing my heart is about ready to burst is self-pity. It’s–” he began coughing, curling in on himself. With one big hand, he pushed Turner back onto the bed, looking at him calmly. When Turner finally calmed, tears of pain dripped down his cheeks as he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. “You done?” He could only nod. “Right. $name?” I stepped over to them, Turner finally seeming to relent. With fascination, I watched as Herald traced a line over the scar on Turners chest. I heard a small click and, to my horror and slight fascination, I watched as a panel opened up on Turners chest. Inside, I was expecting to see a heart. Something beating. Pumping blood and surrounded by tissue and muscle. But instead, I saw the inner workings of what looked like a clock. One big center gear was in the middle, while copper wires and other gears surrounded a glass vial with a gold energy swirling within. “There.” I turned, looking at Herald, not even knowing what my expression was. Herald was pointing, however, to a small gear that wasn’t moving. “That one is off the cog. I just need you to place it back on. Smaller fingers help in this situation. I would normally do it with my tweezers, but those are lost.” I stepped forward, looking down at the inner workings of this man's chest. [[Is magic keeping him alive?]] [[I’m not qualified to do this]] [[Turner, you okay with this?]] “Turner, you okay with this?” It had to be done. All three of us knew it had to be done. But I wanted his consent. Turner looked to be a man who couldn’t handle his life out of control. I could only imagine the anxiety that came with this moment. Pulling his arm from his eyes, he looked at me, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “Just do it quick. Fuckin’ hate when people are rooting around in my body.” Sitting at the edge of the bed, I got closer to his chest. I could see his lungs. They were fleshy and human, and I was sure that there was actual blood pumping through his body. I saw bits of red in with the gold vial and wondered if that was what coursed through his veins. With shaky fingers, I reached down, reaching for the cog. It was cold and jagged, zipping a small shock of electricity through me. I yanked my hand back for a moment, worried I had done something wrong. Turner didn’t even look like he had felt it. Taking a deep breath, I reached forward again, pinching the cog between my thumb and forefinger and lifting it up. “Put it right there on that spool,” Herald said by my side. I placed it back on the spool in question, hearing a click as it sat in place. “Alright, now you need to take that copper wire and wrap it around the bottom of the spool. We can’t snip off the end, but it’ll be a quick fix if we fold it until we get back to my fathers.” I did as Herald said, struggling with the small wire as I looped it around the spool, threading it through a small hole to secure it in place. I glanced at Turner, watching him. He was looking up at the ceiling, his face awash in the diffused light from the lantern. Herald’s hand stayed on Turner’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly across his collar bone. “Okay,” I said. “Done. Anything else?” The gear was beginning to turn, grinding against the other tines. But it was turning. It was working. “I’ll take it from here,” Herald said. With quick precision, he closed Turner's chest up, blocking off the inner workings of his heart. He then quickly helped the man get a shirt on over his head, covering the scar again and giving the man back some of his dignity. When Turner was situated, Herald sighed in relief. “Thank you, $name.” “Of course,” I told him. “Is he going to be okay?” Herald looked down at Turner. The man looked tired, leaning against him heavily. “He’ll be okay.” “Had worse,” Turner yawned. Slipping out of Heralds arms, he rolled to his side, pulling a blanket over his head. “I’m fucking sleeping this day off,” he mumbled from under the quilt. Herald smiled softly down at the lump. “I’m assuming you have questions,” Herald said, keeping his voice low. [[I’ve never seen anything like this]] [[I’m more fascinated than scared]] [[What the fuck did I just see?]] “Is magic keeping him alive?” I suddenly had an inane fear wash over me. Magic was so unstable throughout the Night Market. Had Turner’s heart stopped ticking because of the world losing out on magic? If there was not enough to go around, would he shut down? “Magic and science,” Herald said. “My father can explain it much more thoroughly to you. But even if magic failed, Turner’s inner workings would still run.” “We think,” Turner muttered. It was a sentiment that didn’t sit well with me. But I didn’t particularly like looking at Turner with his chest agape either, so I decided not to question it for now. Sitting at the edge of the bed, I got closer to his chest. I could see his lungs. They were fleshy and human, and I was sure that there was actual blood pumping through his body. I saw bits of red in with the gold vial and wondered if that was what coursed through his veins. With shaky fingers, I reached down, reaching for the cog. It was cold and jagged, zipping a small shock of electricity through me. I yanked my hand back for a moment, worried I had done something wrong. Turner didn’t even look like he had felt it. Taking a deep breath, I reached forward again, pinching the cog between my thumb and forefinger and lifting it up. “Put it right there on that spool,” Herald said by my side. I placed it back on the spool in question, hearing a click as it sat in place. “Alright, now you need to take that copper wire and wrap it around the bottom of the spool. We can’t snip off the end, but it’ll be a quick fix if we fold it until we get back to my fathers.” I did as Herald said, struggling with the small wire as I looped it around the spool, threading it through a small hole to secure it in place. I glanced at Turner, watching him. He was looking up at the ceiling, his face awash in the diffused light from the lantern. Herald’s hand stayed on Turner’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly across his collar bone. “Okay,” I said. “Done. Anything else?” The gear was beginning to turn, grinding against the other tines. But it was turning. It was working. “I’ll take it from here,” Herald said. With quick precision, he closed Turner's chest up, blocking off the inner workings of his heart. He then quickly helped the man get a shirt on over his head, covering the scar again and giving the man back some of his dignity. When Turner was situated, Herald sighed in relief. “Thank you, $name.” “Of course,” I told him. “Is he going to be okay?” Herald looked down at Turner. The man looked tired, leaning against him heavily. “He’ll be okay.” “Had worse,” Turner yawned. Slipping out of Heralds arms, he rolled to his side, pulling a blanket over his head. “I’m fucking sleeping this day off,” he mumbled from under the quilt. Herald smiled softly down at the lump. “I’m assuming you have questions,” Herald said, keeping his voice low. [[I’ve never seen anything like this]] [[I’m more fascinated than scared]] [[What the fuck did I just see?]] “I’m not qualified to do this,” I said. While I knew nothing about the human heart, I also knew nothing about clocks. This was what I would have gone to Turner for. The man was a savant with the machines and only looked calm when he was hunched over one, tinkering with it. “No, you’re not,” Turner said. “You have no appreciation for clocks.” There was something so surreal about him berating me while his chest was open and his clock was ticking. An insane part of me wondered if he could tell time from this. “It’s fine,” Herald soothed. “I will walk you through it.” Sitting at the edge of the bed, I got closer to his chest. I could see his lungs. They were fleshy and human, and I was sure that there was actual blood pumping through his body. I saw bits of red in with the gold vial and wondered if that was what coursed through his veins. With shaky fingers, I reached down, reaching for the cog. It was cold and jagged, zipping a small shock of electricity through me. I yanked my hand back for a moment, worried I had done something wrong. Turner didn’t even look like he had felt it. Taking a deep breath, I reached forward again, pinching the cog between my thumb and forefinger and lifting it up. “Put it right there on that spool,” Herald said by my side. I placed it back on the spool in question, hearing a click as it sat in place. “Alright, now you need to take that copper wire and wrap it around the bottom of the spool. We can’t snip off the end, but it’ll be a quick fix if we fold it until we get back to my fathers.” I did as Herald said, struggling with the small wire as I looped it around the spool, threading it through a small hole to secure it in place. I glanced at Turner, watching him. He was looking up at the ceiling, his face awash in the diffused light from the lantern. Herald’s hand stayed on Turner’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly across his collar bone. “Okay,” I said. “Done. Anything else?” The gear was beginning to turn, grinding against the other tines. But it was turning. It was working. “I’ll take it from here,” Herald said. With quick precision, he closed Turner's chest up, blocking off the inner workings of his heart. He then quickly helped the man get a shirt on over his head, covering the scar again and giving the man back some of his dignity. When Turner was situated, Herald sighed in relief. “Thank you, $name.” “Of course,” I told him. “Is he going to be okay?” Herald looked down at Turner. The man looked tired, leaning against him heavily. “He’ll be okay.” “Had worse,” Turner yawned. Slipping out of Heralds arms, he rolled to his side, pulling a blanket over his head. “I’m fucking sleeping this day off,” he mumbled from under the quilt. Herald smiled softly down at the lump. “I’m assuming you have questions,” Herald said, keeping his voice low. [[I’ve never seen anything like this]] [[I’m more fascinated than scared]] [[What the fuck did I just see?]] “I’ve never seen anything like this,” I said. Nor had I heard of such a thing. “Is he… what does he consider himself? I’m sorry, I don’t know how to really ask the question.” Herald, however, thankfully seemed to understand. “He’s human. Born human, at least. Don’t know if he’s considered anything else now. He still calls himself human, though. My Turner just might be a one of a kind.” Now that, seemed like it fit him. Turner was a one of a kind. There wasn’t anyone quite like him, as far as I was concerned. “He wasn’t always like this,” Herald said. “The world he lived in prior to the Night Market was apparently war torn. He will not talk about that time much. Not even to me. All I know is that he was never supposed to come through the door. Kimber and Sawyer pulled him through. And his heart was never the same after that.” “It was a normal heart then? Or as normal to what he is?” Herald nodded. “It was. I don't know how they got the idea to replace it with a clock. I just know it was Turners idea. Too unhinged not to be. His friends helped. It worked. The whole process was crude. When I first discovered it and took him to my father, my father nearly wept at the design. But, my father is a bit dramatic.” I glanced at Turner, thinking about the shiny wheels. Little parts all intricately woven together. I wondered how much of it was harvested from the clocks in his own shop. “My father redid the inner workings, and they have maintenance checks periodically. The gears do wear out, however, and that’s when he starts hurtin’. I assume the journey was just too much for him. Turner doesn’t do good with unfamiliar surroundings. He gets a lot of anxiety around people. I should have insisted he stay home.” [[I’m sorry I asked you to come here]] [[I don’t think he would have let you come on your own]] “I’m more fascinated than scared, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m a bit shocked. And I don’t really understand it. But, it fits Turner somehow.” The man was hyperfixated on clocks most of the time. I passed by his window every day and saw him morning and night, hunched over a table full of clock parts. “He doesn’t like people knowing, does he.” Herald shook his head. “No. But to be fair, Turner doesn’t like anyone knowin’ anythin’ about him. I doubt it has anythin’ to do with his heart.” Turner did strike me as a private person. If he had it his way, he probably would have avoided people all together. “He wasn’t always like this,” Herald said. “The world he lived in prior to the Night Market was apparently war torn. He will not talk about that time much. Not even to me. All I know is that he was never supposed to come through the door. Kimber and Sawyer pulled him through. And his heart was never the same after that.” “It was a normal heart then? Or as normal to what he is?” Herald nodded. “It was. I don't know how they got the idea to replace it with a clock. I just know it was Turners idea. Too unhinged not to be. His friends helped. It worked. The whole process was crude. When I first discovered it and took him to my father, my father nearly wept at the design. But, my father is a bit dramatic.” I glanced at Turner, thinking about the shiny wheels. Little parts all intricately woven together. I wondered how much of it was harvested from the clocks in his own shop. “My father redid the inner workings, and they have maintenance checks periodically. The gears do wear out, however, and that’s when he starts hurtin’. I assume the journey was just too much for him. Turner doesn’t do good with unfamiliar surroundings. He gets a lot of anxiety around people. I should have insisted he stay home.” [[I’m sorry I asked you to come here]] [[I don’t think he would have let you come on your own]] “What the fuck did I just see?” Now that his chest was closed, and the danger looked as if it had passed, I was looking at Turner with wide eyes. The man had always been an irritable sort, but he looked human. He looked like he was just the clock worker who set up shop near my apartment. He had been the man who cursed like a sailor and who glared at anyone that came by. Now it turned out he had a heart made of wheels and cogs and running through the Outlands was bound to send him to near death scenarios. Herald didn’t look offended by my panicked question. Instead, he seemed to have expected it. “He wasn’t always like this,” Herald said. “The world he lived in prior to the Night Market was apparently war torn. He will not talk about that time much. Not even to me. All I know is that he was never supposed to come through the door. Kimber and Sawyer pulled him through. And his heart was never the same after that.” “It was a normal heart then? Or as normal to what he is?” Herald nodded. “It was. I don't know how they got the idea to replace it with a clock. I just know it was Turners idea. Too unhinged not to be. His friends helped. It worked. The whole process was crude. When I first discovered it and took him to my father, my father nearly wept at the design. But, my father is a bit dramatic.” I glanced at Turner, thinking about the shiny wheels. Little parts all intricately woven together. I wondered how much of it was harvested from the clocks in his own shop. “My father redid the inner workings, and they have maintenance checks periodically. The gears do wear out, however, and that’s when he starts hurtin’. I assume the journey was just too much for him. Turner doesn’t do good with unfamiliar surroundings. He gets a lot of anxiety around people. I should have insisted he stay home.” [[I’m sorry I asked you to come here]] [[I don’t think he would have let you come on your own]] “I’m sorry I asked you to come here,” I told him. “There is part of me that considered this my fault.” “Don’t,” Herald said with that soft drawl of his. “Turner doesn’t like bein’ told what to do. There are not a lot of scenarios where he wouldn’t have found himself out here. And I was gonna come no matter what. Maybe not this time around, but I was still gonna come out here. If there’s people out here, they’re gonna need help. Burying yourself in the graveyard is the only way to guarantee comin’ back. The people out here deserve that courtesy.” “Would you stop being so fucking dramatic,” Turner mumbled from beneath the blankets. With a sigh, he shoved the quilt off, staring at Herald. “The people here are fine. I’m fine. You’ve got your sad voice on and I fucking hate your sad voice. Stop it.” “This is just my voice.” Turner ignored him. “Well, what do you think Night Market. I’m a freak, right? A clockwork boy who sells bits of himself to the public.” “If you are a freak, I am a monster,” Herald said firmly. The rage that crossed Turner’s face was indescribable. It filled up every inch of him, causing his cheeks to become red. “You are //not// a monster.” “And you are not a freak.” Turner rolled his eyes, seeing what he had done there. Instead, he just leaned against Herald, taking a few extra breaths. “Thank you, $name,” Turner finally told me, his tone contrite. “Do we need to get you back home?” I asked. Turner shook his head. “I’ll just rest. You and Herald can do the ritual stuff. I’m going to just sleep until we have to walk back. I’ll make sure to go see Victor as soon as I’m home and get a maintenance check.” Standing, I looked at the two of them, practically curled together now. “I’ll let you get some rest then. I’m going to go to my lantern. Get some rest. Maybe in the morning, Herald, you could come with me to Oswald’s? I would like an extra pair of ears on what he has to say. Make sure that I’m getting a well-rounded opinion.” “As soon as you wish to go, I will be ready,” he said firmly. I left them in their own lantern that night. I had no idea how they were both going to fit on that bed together, or if the night would just be a restless one for Herald. But Turner was alive and they were together. It left me with a sense of satisfaction. Like I had made a small dent in the pain in the world. Even if it was for a short while. Turning the crank in my own lantern, I went upwards towards the night sky. In the morning, hopefully, we would relight the lanterns. In the morning, we would hopefully continue to serve the world hope. [[Next|Chapter Seven Herald/Turner 3]] “I don’t think he would have let you come on your own.” Turner was possessive. One look at him, and you could tell that Herald was his entire world. When the man walked into the room, everything shifted. Despite his cursed tongue, Herald didn’t even blink. He just soothed the man's nerves and met each of his abysmal, driveling sentences head on with a look that just said he was patiently waiting for Turner to realize how he sounded. “Probably not,” Herald said. “Last time we were in the Outlands, same things happened to his heart. This is when I first met him. Had to watch as Sawyer and Kimber cracked open his chest with a dagger.” “That’s terrible,” I said. There were really no other words for it. “I do not enjoy when he is hurt,” Herald said with a frown. “Don’t like when you’re hurt either,” Turner mumbled from beneath the blankets. With a sigh, he shoved the quilt off, staring at him. “Stop acting like I’m dying. I’m fine. You got your sad voice on. Fuckin’ hate your sad voice.” “This is just my voice.” Turner ignored him. “Well, what do you think Night Market. I’m a freak, right? A clockwork boy who sells bits of himself to the public.” “If you are a freak, I am a monster,” Herald said firmly. The rage that crossed Turner’s face was indescribable. It filled up every inch of him, causing his cheeks to become red. “You are //not// a monster.” “And you are not a freak.” Turner rolled his eyes, seeing what he had done there. Instead, he just leaned against Herald, taking a few extra breaths. “Thank you, $name,” Turner finally told me, his tone contrite. “Do we need to get you back home?” I asked. Turner shook his head. “I’ll just rest. You and Herald can do the ritual stuff. I’m going to just sleep until we have to walk back. I’ll make sure to go see Victor as soon as I’m home and get a maintenance check.” Standing, I looked at the two of them, practically curled together now. “I’ll let you get some rest then. I’m going to go to my lantern. Get some rest. Maybe in the morning, Herald, you could come with me to Oswald’s? I would like an extra pair of ears on what he has to say. Make sure that I’m getting a well-rounded opinion.” “As soon as you wish to go, I will be ready,” he said firmly. I left them in their own lantern that night. I had no idea how they were both going to fit on that bed together, or if the night would just be a restless one for Herald. But Turner was alive and they were together. It left me with a sense of satisfaction. Like I had made a small dent in the pain in the world. Even if it was for a short while. Turning the crank in my own lantern, I went upwards towards the night sky. In the morning, hopefully, we would relight the lanterns. In the morning, we would hopefully continue to serve the world hope. [[Next|Chapter Seven Herald/Turner 3]] There was a rope ladder that led down from the lanterns in case one person needed to get in and out. I used it to get to the main ground, seeing my own lantern lying on its side. Once I found Deucalion, I was going to sleep the sleep of the dead. I was looking forward to some dreamless sleep. I ended up not having to look far for Deucalion. There was a tapping nose that registered with me first. I only made it to the entrance of the square before I realized it was Deucalion. He was coming down the road, an urgency to his steps. I felt dread at the sight of him. The man who normally looked like he didn't have a care in the world now had a face deeply etched in concern. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “What happened?” He shook his head, eyes darting around as he came to a stop in front of me. “We need to leave. Now.” That startled me. I looked behind me where the lantern hung with Herald and Turner encased inside. They were too far away for me to call them down. “What happened? Did you go talk to Oswald? I thought he was going to help us with a ritual for the other lanterns.” Our only lead right now was this big broken lantern in the middle of the cavern. And we didn’t know when the path to this city was going to open up again. “He still is. And the next time the path opens up, I can take you back out here,” Deucalion said. “But for now, if we stay, there is no telling how long we will be here. And I was given explicit instructions to bring you back to the market proper. I am not one to really go back on the job I was given.” The idea of the way home falling away as we were traveling through the Outlands was not comforting. “The path is closing?” Deucalion looked like he was going to say no, but even he looked nervous about the trip that was before all of us. “Yes. If we go now, we have a chance,” Deucalion said. “But we have to go. Staying is just not an option.” [[I want to talk to Oswald before we leave]] [[No. I think we should stay]] “I actually think I’m going to try and find Deucalion,” I said. “Get to know him. He seems like he might be a good ally in all of this. Especially with traveling the Outlands before.” Malcolm nodded. “I mean, worst case scenario, Bella can just continue to hire him. If it’s a money thing, that is. But I do agree.” Looking behind him, he looked longingly at the lanterns. “Do you mind if I actually bail on the get together? I didn’t really sleep well the last few nights and would kind of like to take advantage of being forced to do nothing.” I laughed at that. Malcolm was not good at sitting still if there was a problem presented to him. Being in another city, away from it all, probably provided him with the alone time his racing mind would allow him to have. “Go for it,” I told him. “I’ll wake you if anything major happens.” He looked so grateful at that moment that I knew I needed to monitor his sleep a bit more. Make him go home and sleep. Despite not being the Gatekeeper anymore, he continued to act like it. Leaving Malcolm, I wandered the city streets, in search of Deucalion. I had not seen the man since before finding the broken lantern, and wondered just how many of these he had seen in person. If he knew the locations of the other ones. If he could give me any history on what we were up against. I turned down towards an open market district, the air a bit warmer here from the cook pots and local pubs. The noise was familiar and almost comforting. The only thing that remained odd was the broken lanterns falling from the sky. “Odd, isn’t it?” It was Deucalion's voice. It turned out he had found me. He had come up behind me, standing a bit off to the right. There was a contemplative expression on his face that said he too had been traveling these streets. “We are told not to come out here. To not look at the monsters that lurk in the dark. And yet, it is becoming more and more apparent that the monsters we should fear are far closer to home.” I tipped my head to the side. “What do you mean?” “Where are the Barons?” Deucalion asked. “Why are they not doing anything? And why have they chosen to let something like the Velvet Guard, demonize the very souls that seem to be trying?” [[I’m not sure if the Velvet Guard can be considered the root of evil]] [[The Barons are corrupt]] [[There is something far bigger at play]] I want $variation here [[Next|Chapter Seven Hazel]] I knew who I wanted by my side here. More than anything, wanted Gabriel. His mind was not his own, however. It was gone from us. Lost to the Knowing. "We should bring Milo here," Malcolm told me gently. "I know you don't like the idea, but he is the current Gatekeeper. He'd be helpful." I revolted at the idea. While Milo was who I should be relying on for anything having to do with the lanterns or the gates, it was not him who brought me comfort. It wasn't even him that I trusted. "A Gatekeeper would be useful," Oswald said. "I haven't seen one in years. It would be nice to have one out here again." I sighed. I was outnumbered. By the look on my face, Malcolm could tell I wasn't thrilled. But what choice did we really have. "Fine," I agreed. "But you keep track of him, Malcolm. I'm not going to." While Malcolm looked just about as uncomfortable as I felt, Oswald looked as if he had just been handed the best present he had ever received. He was smiling, laughing deep from his belly as he stood straight again. “Well then, let me just get this boy here all locked up, and then we’ll get you through.’’ I stared down at Deucalion. He looked as if he was asleep. How Taliesin even made his way inside was beyond me. Pressing my hand to my chest, I felt the key scar that was there from that fateful night. The last time I had seen Taliesin, he had been trapped. Beyond help. Stuck forever inside my subconscious. But if he was here now, then it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. “Lamplight?” I turned to Malcolm. <<if $malcolmro == "true">> His hand came to rest on my back, running up and down my spine. <</if>> “We need to sit down and come up with an action plan. Now.” I wasn’t going to wait around. I wasn’t going to hope that this Taliesin situation would just go away. He had been underestimated before, and I had wound up dead because of it. “Agreed.” Malcolm glanced back down at Deucalion. “What do we do about him?” Oswald waved us off. “I’ll take care of him. Hopefully, when he wakes, he’ll be Deucalion. Not whatever it was that was possessing him.” Without a thought, Oswald bent down, picking up Deucalion without much effort. Tossing him over his shoulder, he began walking away, leaving only Malcolm and I to follow. We ended up putting Deucalion in a small hut near Oswald's house. Despite the walk, he didn’t wake. He didn’t even move. There were several people outside the hut that looked as if they were guarding it, while Oswald brought us to the backside of the basin. Three feet off the ground was a stained-glass door. It blended into the rest of the walls. “Where does it lead to?” Malcolm asked. “Not sure anymore. Used to lead down to an underground tunnel beneath the beach.” “Of course it did,” Malcolm sighed. “Keep the door open as long as you can. I’ll get Milo and come back” He took one last look at me, before eyeing the door. Then, stepping through, he disappeared from sight. Oswald was standing right behind me, the two of us staring at the door. “How long do you think–” The door rippled like water, catching my attention. I expect to see Malcolm walking through, but instead, my breath caught in my throat. Long legs unfolded from the door as a tall body bent down and through the opening. Dark skin, shot through with silver, steadied themselves around the door frame as Gabriel swayed on his feet. "Gabriel?" [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 2]] “Belladonna,” I said, glancing at Malcolm. “She’s a Baron. She’s going to be able to provide some answers, and in the end, we need to have the Baron’s more aware of what is happening out here. I’m done with them not taking more of a hand in this.” Malcolm nodded. “Doubt it will take much to get her out here. Once she hears Taliesin is here, lurking in the man she hired, she’ll stop everything. I think it’s a good choice.” “How long do you think it will take you to track her down?” “Oswald,” Malcolm turned to the man. “Is there a way of controlling this door for a person? I know sometimes if you think about someone, the doors can kind of morph to where ou need to go.” That was not only news to Oswald, but news to me as well. “I am unsure. It could not hurt to try.” Malcolm looked at me. “It’ll either take me five minutes, or a few hours. Sorry I can’t narrow that down more.” I shook my head. “Just go. Get her here fast. I don’t like this.” But Malcolm’s feet were still firmly on the ground. “You okay?” He as of course referring to Taliesin. “Ask me again after you get Bella here,” I said. “Right now, I can’t think.” He nodded his head once, turning to leave without another word. [[Next|Chapter Seven Belladonna]] I was looking at Malcolm, seeing the same thought flicker in his eyes. “Milo,” I said. “He’s the current Gatekeeper.” And the one who had last dealt with Taliesin besides me. Oswald’s eyes went wide, voice dropping as he leaned towards us. “The current Gatekeeper? I haven’t seen a Gatekeeper in quite a few years. You know him?” “We both do,” I said. The man looked as if he had just been handed the best present he had ever received. He was smiling, laughing deep from his belly as he stood straight again. “Well then, let me just get this boy here all locked up, and then we’ll get you through.’’ I stared down at Deucalion. He looked as if he was asleep. How Taliesin even made his way inside was beyond me. Pressing my hand to my chest, I felt the key scar that was there from that fateful night. The last time I had seen Taliesin, he had been trapped. Beyond help. Stuck forever inside my subconscious. But if he was here now, then it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. “Lamplight?” I turned to Malcolm. <<if $malcolmro == "true">> His hand came to rest on my back, running up and down my spine. <</if>> “We need to sit down and come up with an action plan. Now.” I wasn’t going to wait around. I wasn’t going to hope that this Taliesin situation would just go away. He had been underestimated before, and I had wound up dead because of it. “Agreed.” Malcolm glanced back down at Deucalion. “What do we do about him?” Oswald waved us off. “I’ll take care of him. Hopefully, when he wakes, he’ll be Deucalion. Not whatever it was that was possessing him.” Without a thought, Oswald bent down, picking up Deucalion without much effort. Tossing him over his shoulder, he began walking away, leaving only Malcolm and I to follow. We ended up putting Deucalion in a small hut near Oswald's house. Despite the walk, he didn’t wake. He didn’t even move. There were several people outside the hut that looked as if they were guarding it, while Oswald brought us to the backside of the basin. Three feet off the ground was a stained-glass door. It blended into the rest of the walls. “Where does it lead to?” Malcolm asked. “Not sure anymore. Used to lead down to an underground tunnel beneath the beach.” “Of course it did,” Malcolm sighed. “Keep the door open as long as you can. I’ll get Milo and come back” He took one last look at me, before eyeing the door. Then, stepping through, he disappeared from sight. Oswald was standing right behind me, the two of us staring at the door. “How long do you think–” There was a sharp crackle that passed across the door, as if the surface was being disturbed with small fissures of electricity. Looking up, I watched Malcolm hop down from the open door first, landing softly on his feet. Milo soon followed. Here, in the Outlands, his eyes looked brighter. He squinted a little, as if it affected him, before his eyes settled on me. [[Next|Chapter Seven Milo 2]] Variation [[Next|Chapter Seven Gabriel 2]] Thank you for reading the Night Market early access! It has been a journey and I am so happy that you are all here. Let's kick ass for the rest of this book, okay? Love you all! Zinnia<<set $companion to "malcolm">> [[Next page]]<<set $companion to "deucalion">> [[Next page]]<<set $companion to "herald">> [[Next page]]<<if $companion == "malcolm">> malcolm <<elseif $companion == "deucalion">> deucalion <<elseif $companion == "herald">> herald <</if>><<if $gender == "male">> “I prefer being the one who penetrates,” I told him, pulling back a little so I could gauge how he felt about that. There was a look on his face as he thought about my words, his hands absently running up and down my back. For a moment, I thought it was done, but when he leaned forward once more, his tongue licking the seam of my mouth, I felt myself melt against him. “You better do it good,” he teased me. He pulled his shirt from his shoulders, his scars on display. I ran my fingers over his chest, feeling the hard muscle there as he worked at my own top. Tattoos littered his body. Intricate lines and whorls that each told a story. I wanted to learn each of them intimately. Run my lips across each picture. Each scar. Malcolm’s skin was a map of who he was, and I was eager to know every inch of him. When he pulled my top from me, tossing it aside, he wasted no time in pressing his lips against my chest. I fell back against the cool glass of the lantern, hissing at the difference in heat. His teeth dragged across each nipple, his fingers toying with the dusting of hair on my body. My hands gripped his ass, kneading him as he rolled his hips against me. I could feel the heat coming from him as he ground himself against the line of my cock, seeking friction. When he snaked a hand inside, cupping me in his palm, I let out a long groan. I twitched against him, the callouses of his fingers running over the sensitive tip. His fingers were often stained with charcoal, and now he took them, running them over me as only an artist would. I let him explore, my lips parting in pleasure as he touched and caressed, harsh little breaths leaving his lips. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I reached between us, untying his pants. I pushed them down his hips, eyeing him, a smattering of dark curls wet and sticking to his skin. I cupped him then, rubbing the flat of my palm against his center. He groaned, his finger digging against my shoulders. He was already so wet. Wet enough that I was able to slip a finger inside to stretch him. He squirmed against me, head dipped down as he watched what I was doing. He had pulled me out by now, his thumb playing with my slit and gathering the moisture that beaded there. “Let me know when you’re ready,” I told him, slipping another finger in. He grabbed me by the wrist without another word, pulling me from him and lining my cock up instead. I stared at him with wide eyes, steadying him, my slick fingers sticking to his bare skin as he raised himself above me. When the tip of my cock caught on his entrance, I held my breath. Malcolm teased himself, rolling his hips before he slowly and painfully, lowered himself down. It was with such aching slowness that I let out a small hiss when he was fully seated. The soft walls hugged me tight, clenching and unclenching and building my pleasure to new heights. “Guess you’re ready,” I breathed. Malcolm raised a brow at me, slowly pulling himself up before lowering himself back down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you expecting someone delicate?” He gave a wicked twist of his hips then, sending my head spinning. “My mistake,” I told him. He grinned then, wrapping one arm around my neck. I could feel his thighs shaking as he rose and lowered himself repeatedly, taking it at such a slow speed that I thought I was going to go insane. With each down thrust, he squeezed me tight, my cock becoming shiny with slick. “Mal,” I breathed. He grabbed me by the jaw, kissing me harshly on the lips. I could feel it then. This profound ache pushing between us. My thumbs settled in the dip of his hip, rubbing against a tattoo that I had never been privy to before. His fingers reached between us, going to rub between his legs. I could feel his knuckles bump against me with each move. I shifted then, positioning him just right before I started fucking up into him. He gave up with a gasp, his legs unable to keep the rhythm any longer, and so I gladly took it over. I slid my cock in and out of him, watching the wild look coming across his eyes. The way emotion flickered over his face as he caught a moan behind his teeth. He was beautiful like this. I could tell he was still seeking control. He wasn’t giving himself over to pleasure completely, but I needed him to know just how gorgeous he was at this moment. “Mal,” I whispered gruffly to him. His eyes shot to mine. They were nearly black with need, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his pleasure. “I–” He grabbed me by the back of my head, pulling me in for a kiss. “I love you,” he said. “I love you.” It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that rolled through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing him tight, I thrust into him one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he pulsed around my cock, his release soaking me and sticking to our thighs. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <<elseif $gender == "transf">> “I prefer being the one who penetrates,” I told him, pulling back a little so I could gauge how he felt about that. There was a look on his face as he thought about my words, his hands absently running up and down my back. For a moment, I thought it was done, but when he leaned forward once more, his tongue licking the seam of my mouth, I felt myself melt against him. “You better do it good,” he teased me. He pulled his shirt from his shoulders, his scars on display. I ran my fingers over his chest, feeling the hard muscle there as he worked at my own top. Tattoos littered his body. Intricate lines and whorls that each told a story. I wanted to learn each of them intimately. Run my lips across each picture. Each scar. Malcolm’s skin was a map of who he was, and I was eager to know every inch of him. When he pulled my top from me, tossing it aside, he wasted no time in pressing his lips against my chest. I fell back against the cool glass of the lantern, hissing at the difference in heat. His teeth dragged across each nipple, his fingers toying with the dusting of hair on my body. My hands gripped his ass, kneading him as he rolled his hips against me. I could feel the heat coming from him as he ground himself against the line of my cock, seeking friction. When he snaked a hand inside, cupping me in his palm, I let out a long groan. I twitched against him, the callouses of his fingers running over the sensitive tip. His fingers were often stained with charcoal, and now he took them, running them over me as only an artist would. I let him explore, my lips parting in pleasure as he touched and caressed, harsh little breaths leaving his lips. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I reached between us, untying his pants. I pushed them down his hips, eyeing him, a smattering of dark curls wet and sticking to his skin. I cupped him then, rubbing the flat of my palm against his center. He groaned, his finger digging against my shoulders. He was already so wet. Wet enough that I was able to slip a finger inside to stretch him. He squirmed against me, head dipped down as he watched what I was doing. He had pulled me out by now, his thumb playing with my slit and gathering the moisture that beaded there. “Let me know when you’re ready,” I told him, slipping another finger in. He grabbed me by the wrist without another word, pulling me from him and lining me up instead. I stared at him with wide eyes, steadying him, my slick fingers sticking to his bare skin as he raised himself above me. When the tip of my cock caught on his entrance, I held my breath. Malcolm teased himself, rolling his hips before he slowly and painfully, lowered himself down. It was with such aching slowness that I let out a small hiss when he was fully seated. The soft walls hugged me tight, clenching and unclenching and building my pleasure to new heights. “Guess you’re ready,” I breathed. Malcolm raised a brow at me, slowly pulling himself up before lowering himself back down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you expecting someone delicate?” He gave a wicked twist of his hips then, sending my head spinning. “My mistake,” I told him. He grinned then, wrapping one arm around my neck. I could feel his thighs shaking as he rose and lowered himself repeatedly, taking it at such a slow speed that I thought I was going to go insane. With each down thrust, he squeezed me tight, my body tensing as I felt the wet slide against me. “Mal,” I breathed. He grabbed me by the jaw, kissing me harshly on the lips. I could feel it then. This profound ache pushing between us. My thumbs settled in the dip of his hip, rubbing against a tattoo that I had never been privy to before. His fingers reached between us, going to rub between his legs. I could feel his knuckles bump against me with each move. I shifted then, positioning him just right before I started fucking up into him. He gave up with a gasp, his legs unable to keep the rhythm any longer, and so I gladly took it over. I slid in and out of him, watching the wild look coming across his eyes. The way emotion flickered over his face as he caught a moan behind his teeth. He was beautiful like this. I could tell he was still seeking control. He wasn’t giving himself over to pleasure completely, but I needed him to know just how gorgeous he was at this moment. “Mal,” I whispered gruffly to him. His eyes shot to mine. They were nearly black with need, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his pleasure. “I–” He grabbed me by the back of my head, pulling me in for a kiss. “I love you,” he said. “I love you.” It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that rolled through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing him tight, I thrust into him one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he pulsed around me, his release soaking me and sticking to our thighs. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <</if>> [[Next|After Sex]]<<if $gender == "male">>“I want you to fuck me,” I told him quietly. I crooked one leg up, bracing it against his hip as I ground the two of us together. Malcolm’s head dipped forward, a shiver running through his body at my words. I could feel the pulse of heat wash through him. “You sure?” He sounded wrecked. Barely able to control himself. It made me want him all the more. “I’m sure.” Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. His fingers were warm as he trailed them up my sides, pushing my shirt from my shoulders. I was hard against his hip, bumping against him and feeling the cotton of my pants slide catch against me. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, eyes hungry on the tip of my erection as it stood rigid I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin, where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean-shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap it around the small of his back. My cock caught on the dip of his hip, dragging against his skin. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. I slid against his wet center, rubbing against his sex and causing a moan to fall from his lips. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass. There was something wet and sticky on his fingers as he teased my hole. He massaged against the puckered opening, finger catching at the ring. My stomach tightened at the contact, the burning need to have him fill me almost all consuming. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm. The tip of my cock was wet and aching. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to surround me. One finger finally breached me, moving in an out as he stretched me, readying me for another finger. “That tattoo,” he whispered to me. “Touch the tattoo.” I reached down, my thumb tracing over the scorpion. I felt the hard line of his cock appear, sliding against my own. Looking down, I saw the thick head of his erection, dark and wet. “You ready?” he asked me. I hadn’t realized he had put another finger inside me. That he had stretched me so fully. “Yeah,” I breathed. He pushed my thighs upwards, draping them against his sides. Pulling his fingers from me, he lined his dick up to me, breathing harshly before pushing in. I felt the sting as he shifted forward. The burn as he stretched me. When he finally pushed through, I arched my back in a deep moan, feeling him bottom out. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I adjusted. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. He moved slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. He looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <<elseif $gender == "transf">>“I want you to fuck me,” I told him quietly. I crooked one leg up, bracing it against his hip as I ground the two of us together. Malcolm’s head dipped forward, a shiver running through his body at my words. I could feel the pulse of heat wash through him. “You sure?” He sounded wrecked. Barely able to control himself. It made me want him all the more. “I’m sure.” Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. His fingers were warm as he trailed them up my sides, pushing my shirt from my shoulders. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, eyes hungry as he eyed my body laid bare in front of him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin, where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean-shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap it around the small of his back. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. I slid against his wet center, rubbing against his sex and causing a moan to fall from his lips. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass. There was something wet and sticky on his fingers as he teased my hole. He massaged against the puckered opening, finger catching at the ring. My stomach tightened at the contact, the burning need to have him fill me almost all consuming. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to surround me. One finger finally breached me, moving in an out as he stretched me, readying me for another finger. “That tattoo,” he whispered to me. “Touch the tattoo.” I reached down, my thumb tracing over the scorpion. I felt the hard line of his cock appear, sliding against my body. Looking down, I saw the thick head of his erection, dark and wet. “You ready?” he asked me. I hadn’t realized he had put another finger inside me. That he had stretched me so fully. “Yeah,” I breathed. He pushed my thighs upwards, draping them against his sides. Pulling his fingers from me, he lined his dick up to me, breathing harshly before pushing in. I felt the sting as he shifted forward. The burn as he stretched me. When he finally pushed through, I arched my back in a deep moan, feeling him bottom out. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I adjusted. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. He moved slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. He looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go.<</if>> [[Next|After Sex]]“I can go either way,” I told him. “You mind if I take control tonight?” he asked. Malcolm had problems with letting others do anything for him. I could see where he would be more comfortable with taking the lead. “Go ahead. I’m yours.” <<if $gender == "male">>“You sure?” He sounded wrecked. Barely able to control himself. It made me want him all the more. “I’m sure.” Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. His fingers were warm as he trailed them up my sides, pushing my shirt from my shoulders. I was hard against his hip, bumping against him and feeling the cotton of my pants slide catch against me. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, eyes hungry on the tip of my erection as it stood rigid I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin, where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean-shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap it around the small of his back. My cock caught on the dip of his hip, dragging against his skin. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. I slid against his wet center, rubbing against his sex and causing a moan to fall from his lips. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass. There was something wet and sticky on his fingers as he teased my hole. He massaged against the puckered opening, finger catching at the ring. My stomach tightened at the contact, the burning need to have him fill me almost all consuming. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm. The tip of my cock was wet and aching. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to surround me. One finger finally breached me, moving in an out as he stretched me, readying me for another finger. “That tattoo,” he whispered to me. “Touch the tattoo.” I reached down, my thumb tracing over the scorpion. I felt the hard line of his cock appear, sliding against my own. Looking down, I saw the thick head of his erection, dark and wet. “You ready?” he asked me. I hadn’t realized he had put another finger inside me. That he had stretched me so fully. “Yeah,” I breathed. He pushed my thighs upwards, draping them against his sides. Pulling his fingers from me, he lined his dick up to me, breathing harshly before pushing in. I felt the sting as he shifted forward. The burn as he stretched me. When he finally pushed through, I arched my back in a deep moan, feeling him bottom out. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I adjusted. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. He moved slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. He looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <<elseif $gender == "transf">> “You sure?” He sounded wrecked. Barely able to control himself. It made me want him all the more. “I’m sure.” Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. His fingers were warm as he trailed them up my sides, pushing my shirt from my shoulders. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, eyes hungry as he eyed my body laid bare in front of him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin, where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean-shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap it around the small of his back. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. I slid against his wet center, rubbing against his sex and causing a moan to fall from his lips. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass. There was something wet and sticky on his fingers as he teased my hole. He massaged against the puckered opening, finger catching at the ring. My stomach tightened at the contact, the burning need to have him fill me almost all consuming. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to surround me. One finger finally breached me, moving in an out as he stretched me, readying me for another finger. “That tattoo,” he whispered to me. “Touch the tattoo.” I reached down, my thumb tracing over the scorpion. I felt the hard line of his cock appear, sliding against my body. Looking down, I saw the thick head of his erection, dark and wet. “You ready?” he asked me. I hadn’t realized he had put another finger inside me. That he had stretched me so fully. “Yeah,” I breathed. He pushed my thighs upwards, draping them against his sides. Pulling his fingers from me, he lined his dick up to me, breathing harshly before pushing in. I felt the sting as he shifted forward. The burn as he stretched me. When he finally pushed through, I arched my back in a deep moan, feeling him bottom out. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I adjusted. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. He moved slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. He looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go.<</if>> [[Next|After Sex]]<<if $gender== "female">> “Use the tattoo,” I told him. The answering grin that I received shook me. I had never seen Malcolm like this. Almost hungry. His hand brushed across my breasts, cupping one as he dipped his head down, sucking my nipple through the fabric of my shirt. “You sure?” he asked, worrying the flesh between his teeth. I bucked up into him, feeling the heat between his legs. “I’m sure.” “You know,” he said, tugging at my top. “I did not like breasts when I had them.” My top came free, falling to the ground behind me. My chest was on display for him, his thumb eagerly swiping across the hardened points. “But damn do I love them on you.” I laughed. “You a boob man, Malcolm?” “Let's find out.” He dived forward, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. I arched against him, pinned by the weight of him on top of me. Malcolm’s fingers were skilled as he pressed me against the glass lantern wall. The air around us was becoming thick, the windows beginning to fog, and all I could think was getting Malcolm’s clothes off. Feeling him against me and seeing just what exactly tore this man apart, leaving him a pliant mess in my hands. Though, with the way he was acting, I had a feeling he had the same idea for me. His tongue flicked across me while his fingers kneaded my sides. Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, pushing my legs so he could watch my lips part for him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike.. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap around it around the small of his back. “I’m going to make you cum like this,” he whispered to me. “I want you wet before I slide in.” “I–” I didn’t even know what I was going to say, because suddenly he was brushing against my clit, and I was arching against him in a way that sent small jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass, slotting us close. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm, driving me further and further to the brink. When I came, It was with a silent scream. My head shot back and my eyes closed tight at the suddenness of it all. I felt something then as Malcolm shifted, and a hard length slid against me. Before I was done, Malcolm was sliding his dick into me, pushing against my twitching walls and wrapping me in a bear hug while I continued to shake. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I came down from my release. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. “Ready?” he whispered, cupping my flushed face. “Yeah,” I said with a little nod. He began moving. Slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. My lips parted, coating him in a wet slick that ran along the black lines of his tattoo that now circling the base of his dick. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. His thighs were still coated with my release and part of his own and he looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <<elseif $gender == "transm">>“Use the tattoo,” I told him. The answering grin that I received shook me. I had never seen Malcolm like this. Almost hungry. His hand brushed down my chest, eyes tracing my body as he lifted my top over my head. "You have no scars," he commented. I looked down at my own chest, so very different from his own. "Perks of being a worldly entity," I told him. "They're still sensitive though." "Oh?" He seemed intrigued as he let his thumb scratch over the flat of my nipple. I hissed in response, watching the way Malcolm rolled his lips in his mouth. "May I?" he asked. I nodded, not quite sure what he was asking for, but ready for anything he would give me. Dipping his head down, he began to place nipping bites and kisses all across my chest, rubbing his body against my own as his fingers played. I arched against him, pinned by the weight of him on top of me. Malcolm’s fingers were skilled as he pressed me against the glass lantern wall. The air around us was becoming thick, the windows beginning to fog, and all I could think was getting Malcolm’s clothes off. Feeling him against me and seeing just what exactly tore this man apart, leaving him a pliant mess in my hands. Though, with the way he was acting, I had a feeling he had the same idea for me. His tongue flicked across me while his fingers kneaded my sides. Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, pushing my legs so he could watch my lips part for him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike.. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap around it around the small of his back. “I’m going to make you cum like this,” he whispered to me. “I want you wet before I slide in.” “I–” I didn’t even know what I was going to say, because suddenly he was brushing against my clit, and I was arching against him in a way that sent small jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass, slotting us close. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm, driving me further and further to the brink. When I came, It was with a silent scream. My head shot back and my eyes closed tight at the suddenness of it all. I felt something then as Malcolm shifted, and a hard length slid against me. Before I was done, Malcolm was sliding his dick into me, pushing against my twitching walls and wrapping me in a bear hug while I continued to shake. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I came down from my release. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. “Ready?” he whispered, cupping my flushed face. “Yeah,” I said with a little nod. He began moving. Slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. My lips parted, coating him in a wet slick that ran along the black lines of his tattoo that now circling the base of his dick. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. His thighs were still coated with my release and part of his own and he looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <</if>> [[Next|After Sex]]<<if $gender == "transm">>“Sweat grinding and fingers is always good,” I laughed. His fingers twitched against me, nails digging into small half moons as he clutched the fabric of my shirt. Malcolm had been holding himself back. For so long he had kept to himself, trying to keep control of his own desires. Knowing they were about to be set free had my heart pumping erratically, my chest rising and falling in staccato gasps. “Then we are going to need to get some of these clothes off,” he told me. He lifted my shirt over my head, tossing it aside somewhere in the corner. "You have no scars," he commented. I looked down at my own chest, so very different from his own. "Perks of being a worldly entity," I told him. "They're still sensitive though." "Oh?" He seemed intrigued as he let his thumb scratch over the flat of my nipple. I hissed in response, watching the way Malcolm rolled his lips in his mouth. "May I?" he asked. I nodded, not quite sure what he was asking for, but ready for anything he would give me. Dipping his head down, he began to place nipping bites and kisses all across my chest, rubbing his body against my own as his fingers played. I arched against him, pinned by the weight of him on top of me. Malcolm’s fingers were skilled as he pressed me against the glass lantern wall. The air around us was becoming thick, the windows beginning to fog, and all I could think was getting Malcolm’s clothes off. Feeling him against me and seeing just what exactly tore this man apart, leaving him a pliant mess in my hands. Though, with the way he was acting, I had a feeling he had the same idea for me. His tongue flicked across me while his fingers kneaded my sides. Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, pushing my legs so he could watch my lips part for him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean-shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap around it around the small of his back. “I’m going to make you cum like this,” he whispered to me. “I want you wet before I slide in.” “I–” I didn’t even know what I was going to say, because suddenly he was brushing against my sex, and I was arching against him in a way that sent small jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass, slotting us close. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm, driving me further and further to the brink. When I came, It was with a silent shout. My head shot back and my eyes closed tight at the suddenness of it all. He looked almost surprised, his eyes dark as he stared down at my flushed face. I could feel my insides twitching, desperate for something more. Holding me close, he ran his hand downwards until his fingers were swirling between my legs. Slowly, he pushed two in at once and my world whited out as I sucked them in, desperately trying to take more. “Shit,” he whispered against my sweaty skin. I twisted in such a way that I got a leg between him, rubbing it back and forth until he was panting harshly against me. His fingers crooked inside me, pushing in and out, the rhythm shaky as he was lost in his own pleasure as well. I reached out, grabbing at his hips, grinding his sex down harder against my thigh and watching the way his eyes fluttered at the contact. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. His thighs were still coated with my release and part of his own and he looked as if he were on the verge of tipping over the edge. When his thumb began to take small passes over my center, I reached to cup his sex within my hand, slipping two fingers inside him as well. We fucked each other in tandem. A push and pull of our fingers. A twist of our wrist. Until the entire lantern became heady with the smell of sex and echoed with our moans. When he tipped his head back, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering my hold. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his while keeping my fingers steady inside him. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust against my palm one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as came against me. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <<elseif $gender == "female">> “Sweat grinding and fingers is always good,” I laughed. His fingers twitched against me, nails digging into small half moons as he clutched the fabric of my shirt. Malcolm had been holding himself back. For so long he had kept to himself, trying to keep control of his own desires. Knowing they were about to be set free had my heart pumping erratically, my chest rising and falling in staccato gasps. “Then we are going to need to get some of these clothes off,” he told me. He lifted my shirt over my head, tossing it aside somewhere in the corner. "You have no scars," he commented. I looked down at my own chest, so very different from his own. "Perks of being a worldly entity," I told him. "They're still sensitive though." "Oh?" He seemed intrigued as he let his thumb scratch over the flat of my nipple. I hissed in response, watching the way Malcolm rolled his lips in his mouth. "May I?" he asked. I nodded, not quite sure what he was asking for, but ready for anything he would give me. Dipping his head down, he began to place nipping bites and kisses all across my chest, rubbing his body against my own as his fingers played. I arched against him, pinned by the weight of him on top of me. Malcolm’s fingers were skilled as he pressed me against the glass lantern wall. The air around us was becoming thick, the windows beginning to fog, and all I could think was getting Malcolm’s clothes off. Feeling him against me and seeing just what exactly tore this man apart, leaving him a pliant mess in my hands. Though, with the way he was acting, I had a feeling he had the same idea for me. His tongue flicked across me while his fingers kneaded my sides. Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, pushing my legs so he could watch my lips part for him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean-shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap around it around the small of his back. “I’m going to make you cum like this,” he whispered to me. “I want you wet before I slide in.” “I–” I didn’t even know what I was going to say, because suddenly he was brushing against my sex, and I was arching against him in a way that sent small jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass, slotting us close. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm, driving me further and further to the brink. When I came, It was with a silent shout. My head shot back and my eyes closed tight at the suddenness of it all. He looked almost surprised, his eyes dark as he stared down at my flushed face. I could feel my insides twitching, desperate for something more. Holding me close, he ran his hand downwards until his fingers were swirling between my legs. Slowly, he pushed two in at once and my world whited out as I sucked them in, desperately trying to take more. “Shit,” he whispered against my sweaty skin. I twisted in such a way that I got a leg between him, rubbing it back and forth until he was panting harshly against me. His fingers crooked inside me, pushing in and out, the rhythm shaky as he was lost in his own pleasure as well. I reached out, grabbing at his hips, grinding his sex down harder against my thigh and watching the way his eyes fluttered at the contact. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. His thighs were still coated with my release and part of his own and he looked as if he were on the verge of tipping over the edge. When his thumb began to take small passes over my center, I reached to cup his sex within my hand, slipping two fingers inside him as well. We fucked each other in tandem. A push and pull of our fingers. A twist of our wrist. Until the entire lantern became heady with the smell of sex and echoed with our moans. When he tipped his head back, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering my hold. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his while keeping my fingers steady inside him. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust against my palm one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as came against me. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <</if>> <</if>> [[Next|After Sex]]<<if $gender == "female">>“What do you prefer?” I asked him. We had never had these conversations before. We had never even entertained the idea that it could happen. Now that it was, my breath felt like it was coming in heated little waves. “I prefer to penetrate,” he told me. “At least until I’m more… comfortable. But, I’ll do either.” I shook my head. “No. That’s good. Penetration is good.” I felt my own cheeks flare at the comment, knowing exactly how I sounded. Malcolm looked as if it was endearing, more than anything else, and he leaned down to give me a soft kiss. “You sure?” I took a deep breath. “Yes. But if you keep asking me I’m going to lose my patience.” “Could be fun,” he teased. I bucked up into him, feeling the heat between his legs. “You know,” he said, tugging at my top. “I did not like breasts when I had them.” My top came free, falling to the ground behind me. My chest was on display for him, his thumb eagerly swiping across the hardened points. “But damn do I love them on you.” I laughed. “You a boob man, Malcolm?” “Let's find out.” He dived forward, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh. I arched against him, pinned by the weight of him on top of me. Malcolm’s fingers were skilled as he pressed me against the glass lantern wall. The air around us was becoming thick, the windows beginning to fog, and all I could think was getting Malcolm’s clothes off. Feeling him against me and seeing just what exactly tore this man apart, leaving him a pliant mess in my hands. Though, with the way he was acting, I had a feeling he had the same idea for me. His tongue flicked across me while his fingers kneaded my sides. Slowly, he began a deep roll of his hips, grinding us together until I was left clutching him tight, my body corded with pent-up release. When he began traveling down to my bottoms, I lifted my hips upwards, his own coming with me. Slowly, he slid the material down my hips and past my knees, twisting me around so I laid bare before him. His hands slowly traveled up my thighs, pushing my legs so he could watch my lips part for him. I crooked one knee upwards, inviting him closer. I watched as he kneeled in front of me, untying the front of his pants and pushing them down. There, right at his hip, was a black inked tattoo, nestled in the dip between his hip and pelvis. It was a small outline of a scorpion, its tail curled as if ready to strike.. Hair trailed down from his bellybutton to his groin where a smattering of dark curls was scattered. He was mostly clean shaven, his sex puffy and throbbing. When he scooted forward, I could feel the heat coming off of him. He braced his arms on either side of me as he dipped himself down, rubbing us together. The delicious wet slide of him against me had my eyes fluttering. He crooked my leg up further to wrap around it around the small of his back. “I’m going to make you cum like this,” he whispered to me. “I want you wet before I slide in.” “I–” I didn’t even know what I was going to say, because suddenly he was brushing against my clit, and I was arching against him in a way that sent small jolts of pleasure throughout my body. I dug my nails into his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles work against my hands. Malcolm was leaning over me, hair half undone from the bun he had it in, his eyes dark as he stared at me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something about his gaze that wouldn’t let me. Slowly, he took his time, grinding us together, our moans filling the lantern. One large hand came behind me to cup my ass, slotting us close. I ran my fingers against the scars of his chest, my tongue coming out to trace the raised lines. I felt him shiver as he dipped his hips down in a slow rhythm, driving me further and further to the brink. When I came, It was with a silent scream. My head shot back and my eyes closed tight at the suddenness of it all. I felt something then as Malcolm shifted, and a hard length slid against me. Before I was done, Malcolm was sliding his dick into me, pushing against my twitching walls and wrapping me in a bear hug while I continued to shake. He didn't move for a long moment. Just sat inside me, holding me as I came down from my release. He petted down my spine, peppering open-mouthed kisses along my shoulders as he whispered something soothing in my ear. I felt like I was floating. My body loose and pliant, adjusting to the length inside me. If I had known it was going to be like this with him, I would have come down to the Night Market a long time ago. “Ready?” he whispered, cupping my flushed face. “Yeah,” I said with a little nod. He began moving. Slow at first. Just enough for me to get used to him. I looked down, seeing the rigid line of his cock pushing in and out of me. My lips parted, coating him in a wet slick that ran along the black lines of his tattoo that now circling the base of his dick. I reached down, running my fingers experimentally against him, my breath hitching as the tip caught against my entrance. Malcolm’s head dipped forward as he let out a heady moan. I could feel him throb within me and I had an inane thought to ask him how thick he could make himself. His thighs were still coated with my release and part of his own and he looked as if he were on the verge of spilling inside me with a wretched moan. When he tipped his head back upwards, he caught my gaze. “Don’t turn away,” he requested. “I have waited so long for this. To feel you against me. I don’t want you to turn away.” I nodded, seeing something in his gaze. It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust, I could feel it breaking apart. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that shivered through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing me tight, he thrust into me one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he spilled inside of me, his release dribbling out of me to splash against our skin. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. “I love you,” he whispered. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. <</if>> [[Next|After Sex]] “Do you have a way for me to penetrate you?” I asked him. There was a look that crossed his face. A moment of hesitation. But then he reached behind him for his bag, pulling out a strap on. I raised a brow towards him. “That is awfully presumptuous of you,” I laughed. “I know you, Lamplight.” He shrugged a little, a quirk to his lips. “And I may have been a bit presumptuous.” He pulled his shirt from his shoulders, his scars on display. I ran my fingers over his chest, feeling the hard muscle there as he worked at my own top. Tattoos littered his body. Intricate lines and whorls that each told a story. I wanted to learn each of them intimately. Run my lips across each picture. Each scar. Malcolm’s skin was a map of who he was, and I was eager to know every inch of him. When he pulled my top from me, tossing it aside, he wasted no time in pressing his lips against my chest. I fell back against the cool glass of the lantern, hissing at the difference in heat. His teeth dragged across each nipple, his fingers toying with the dusting of hair on my body. My hands gripped his ass, kneading him as he rolled his hips against me. I could feel the heat coming from him as he ground himself across my thigh, seeking friction. When he snaked a hand inside, cupping me in his palm, I let out a long groan. His fingers were often stained with charcoal, and now he took them, running them over me as only an artist would. I let him explore, my lips parting in pleasure as he touched and caressed, harsh little breaths leaving his lips. Finally, he pushed my pants from my hips, helping me put on my strap on. The sound of the buckle echoed through the room. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I reached between us, untying his pants. I pushed them down his hips, eyeing him, a smattering of dark curls wet and sticking to his skin. I cupped him then, rubbing the flat of my palm against his center. He groaned, his finger digging against my shoulders. He was already so wet. Wet enough that I was able to slip a finger inside to stretch him. He squirmed against me, head dipped down as he watched what I was doing. He had pulled me out by now, his thumb playing with my slit and gathering the moisture that beaded there. “Let me know when you’re ready,” I told him, slipping another finger in. He grabbed me by the wrist without another word, pulling me from him and lining my cock up instead. I stared at him with wide eyes, steadying him, my slick fingers sticking to his bare skin as he raised himself above me. When the tip of my cock caught on his entrance, I held my breath. Malcolm teased himself, rolling his hips before he slowly and painfully, lowered himself down. It was with such aching slowness that I let out a small hiss when he was fully seated. The soft walls hugged me tight, clenching and unclenching and building my pleasure to new heights. “Guess you’re ready,” I breathed. Malcolm raised a brow at me, slowly pulling himself up before lowering himself back down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you expecting someone delicate?” He gave a wicked twist of his hips then, sending my head spinning. “My mistake,” I told him. He grinned then, wrapping one arm around my neck. I could feel his thighs shaking as he rose and lowered himself repeatedly, taking it at such a slow speed that I thought I was going to go insane. With each down thrust, he squeezed me tight, my cock becoming shiny with slick. “Mal,” I breathed. He grabbed me by the jaw, kissing me harshly on the lips. I could feel it then. This profound ache pushing between us. My thumbs settled in the dip of his hip, rubbing against a tattoo that I had never been privy to before. His fingers reached between us, going to rub between his legs. I could feel his knuckles bump against me with each move. I shifted then, positioning him just right before I started fucking up into him. He gave up with a gasp, his legs unable to keep the rhythm any longer, and so I gladly took it over. I slid my cock in and out of him, watching the wild look coming across his eyes. The way emotion flickered over his face as he caught a moan behind his teeth. He was beautiful like this. I could tell he was still seeking control. He wasn’t giving himself over to pleasure completely, but I needed him to know just how gorgeous he was at this moment. “Mal,” I whispered gruffly to him. His eyes shot to mine. They were nearly black with need, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his pleasure. “I–” He grabbed me by the back of my head, pulling me in for a kiss. “I love you,” he said. “I love you.” It was as if everything opened between us then. I could not feel where he stopped and I began. Deep emotion, born from years of longing, years of loneliness, coursed back and forth between us and with each thrust. A part of us being filled that we hadn’t realized we needed. I could feel each gasp he made, and he shivered with each bit of pleasure that rolled through me. “I don’t want this to end,” he confessed, his eyes wide as his hips started stuttering against my own. He reached between us, his fingers playing with the nerves between my legs and leaving my insides boiling. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him close, pressing my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, not daring to break the connection. I could feel his need. The out of control storm that he stood at the edge of. I wanted us to tip over the edge together. “We will have this again,” I assured him. “This isn’t the end.” Grabbing him tight, I thrust into him one last time, a deep groan breaking away from his chest as he pulsed around me, his release soaking me and sticking to our thighs. Malcolm trembled in my arms, pressing his cheek against my own. I felt myself break. From the sheer emotion he sent to me, my entire being shattered. The lights that had been hidden burst forth in my mind for one shining moment as I tipped my head back and cried out. I was falling over the edge, shaking against him, and he was falling with me, vowing to never let go. [[Next|After Sex]] What route would your MC like to take? [[Male|Sex choice][$gender to "male"]] [[Female|Sex choice][$gender to "female"]] [[Transmasc|Sex choice][$gender to "transm"]] [[Transfem|Sex choice][$gender to "transf"]] We lay there after, sweat drying on our skin as we watched condensation run down the glass panes of the lantern. It dawned on me then what we did. Inside a place that was made entirely of windows. Groaning, I covered my face. “What is it?” Malcolm asked. “Someone probably saw us,” I said. “The windows are fogged but they didn’t start fogged.” The horror crossed Malcolm’s face as well and I was at least thankful that we both would be able to share in this mortifications. “Well,” he said slowly. “I guess we’ll know tomorrow if the owner can’t look us in the eye.” “Stop,” I laughed. I rolled towards him, tucking my face in his neck. Strong arms wrapped around me as he shifted to hold me close. A gentle press of his lips soothed me as he kissed my temple. He had been quiet. Not out of embarrassment but out of enjoyment. It was an inexplicable feeling I had but I could almost //feel// Malcolm’s contentment. He had been waiting so long for this moment and for once, everything slotted together just right. “I meant it, you know.” “Meant what?” I craned my neck upwards, catching sight of his face. A few strands of hair were sticking to his forehead. “I meant it when I said I love you. I really do. It wasn’t a heat of the moment thing.” “I didn’t think it was.” “I just wanted you to know.” There was something more there. I knew there was. But Malcolm had always been private. I was slowly chipping away the edges of his mask and enjoying every second of it. He would come to me in time. Right now, it was about us. Reassuring each other. Knowing that we were in this together. “I meant it too,” I told him, placing a kiss on his bare chest. The sheets dipped deliciously low as he rolled to his side. “I know we need to sleep, but I really would like to just sit up and watch you. I’m letting you know now that I’m about to become very touchy feely. Sickening so.” “I would like to see that,” I told him. I couldn’t imagine Malcolm doing that. “It starts now.” He pulled me close, pushing us until we lay with our heads tucked together. I felt my eyes growing heavy, the lull of sleep beginning to pull me under. “Get some sleep,” he whispered. “You have to also.” “I will. I just want to sit here in this for a while. I’ve waited a long time for you, Lamplight. I just want to enjoy it.” I couldn’t help it when my eyes closed. Try as I might to stay awake, it wasn’t going to happen. But I knew at least I could rest easier with him here. And somewhere, in my dreams, I knew he would follow. [[Next|The Next Morning]][[I’m done waiting too]] [[We'll deal with the consequences tomorrow]]