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alpydk · 7 months ago

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Cabinet of Oddities (The Final Chapter)

Gale x Tav (OC F)

The final chapter. The defeat of the Netherbrain, the docks, the Chionthar. 2 epilogues. The first is the "canon" happy ending. The second is the one I prefer but decide for yourselves.

((I'm going to add a long blurb of thanks here. And some of my own unwanted backstory.

Nana was created for a DnD game back in 2021. A year when everything for me went to shit and I had a nervous breakdown. Her aversion to touch reflected my own insecurities with it, Thomas was the self-destructive tendencies which I clung to so desperately, her 5 years in the past was my 2021 as I lost myself to my mental health. Either way, this story was written as a reflection of all that happened and the friends that helped pull me out of it (despite all the struggles that came in that area).

But yeah, thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story. It's meant a lot, especially with this being the first fic I've ever written. So again, thank you, thank you, thank you.))

Ao3 Link

Nana fell onto the Netherbrain, her slight changeling form hitting the flesh beneath her. “Ooo squishy…”

“Tormentum!” Gale fired off a barrage of magic missiles at the mind flayer that loomed over her. “Nana, pull yourself together!” The battle so far had been intense, fighting their way through the High Hall, taking down cultists, ghouls and mindflayers and they’d had little time to recuperate before the final stages came. Now they bided their time as their own mindflayer ally opened the last portal giving them access to their foe. Gale ran to her, helping her from the ground where the enemy had shoved her.

“Thanks,” she said, wiping the ichor from her armour before leaning around him and firing an arrow past him into a tentacle that had suddenly emerged. “This is fun, right?” He could see how light her eyes were and the way her lips curved as she saw the arrow hit.

He looked at her in confusion but then a smile crept on his face. “Hardly the verbiage I would choose, my love.”

The portal erupted into view and the group sprinted for it ready to face the brain, the hardest part they had to overcome. Gale still thought of the orb, of that final choice he would have to make if things began to go badly for them. They continued to fight valiantly leaping between the plates that barely held in place around the brain. He could see the wear and tear of Astarion’s armour, the bruises on Shadowheart’s face, and again the choice presented itself to him. If this is what is needed, then so be it.

“Pew pew!” Nana dived past him firing arrows at the brain, his thoughts interrupted. Does she even realise where we are right now? He felt his head throb as the Netherbrain attempted to dominate the tadpoles they carried within. “Tormentum!” Another collection fired in the direction of the brain. Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.

It was a spell from the Shadowheart that was the final nail in the coffin, causing the Netherbrain to cry out in agony. He heard its voice within his head pleading with them to surrender or work alongside it but the mindflayer accompanying them ordered them to kill it. Gale stood with the crystals, looking at the Netherbrain in front of him, knowing only one thing; He needed to get the crown. He commanded with authority for the Netherbrain to destroy all the tadpoles and itself, immediately feeling intense pain in his skull, the worm withering away to nothingness.

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Nana watched as Gale made the order, her cheeks flushing a little at the sight. Oh, he is nice when he’s in charge… She bit her lip and then grimaced before crumpling to the ground in pain. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping for it to end and as it did, she looked up seeing the crown shatter into pieces before falling out of sight.

She looked down into the water. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. No Thomas, no tadpole, just the ramblings of her own mind. Jam, cushions, Gale. Going to be a fun night. And then there was a new sensation, one she had never experienced before, falling a large distance.

She felt the wind in her hair, savouring the moment before she hit the cold water beneath. A strange feeling overtook her as struggled to stay afloat, her arms growing weaker against the current, water entering her lungs. She could see the light above the surface but her mind kept drifting away from her, willing for sleep to take her. It was only as Astarion grabbed her pulling her upwards and the air entering her lungs again that she realised what had happened. She gasped for breath as she was pulled up onto the docks, coughing up mouthfuls of water. “I need to… learn how to swim.”

Astarion stood up next to her wringing out the water from his clothes. “Darling, you need to learn so much more before swimming.”

She felt Gale’s hand on her back, rubbing gently, and looked up to him with a smile. “We made it…”

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Gale walked along the docks indulging in the sensation of finally having his mind to himself again. He thought over the crown and where it was within the water, how he would find it and reforge it, and whether he was still willing to hand it over to Mystra as she had ordered of him. He looked over at Nana as she removed her soaked leather armour revealing her cotton shirt underneath, her pale skin moist with droplets of water. She shook her head, spattering Astarion, and Gale watched as he chastised her for it, her laughing at his temper. Is godhood worth losing all this?

It was as her smile faded that his attention moved to what she had seen. Karlach stood on the edge of the docks, the flames of her skin licking higher. She’d spoken little of her affliction to him throughout their travels, but he knew what was happening as Shadowheart ran towards her with concern on her face. He watched, unable to hear the words they spoke to one another as Karlach burnt hotter and brighter than any of them had seen previously, his mind racing, looking for solutions. An ice blast, the water around us. All other options except the one he knew she was against. It was Wyll who shouted past him about Avernus, the reluctance showing on her face as she heard the words, but Shadowheart managed to convince her to see sense.

They had no time to say goodbye to the trio before they fled through the portal, the heat of Karlach’s flames becoming too much for any of them to handle. Nana stood next to him, a tearful and shocked look on her face.

Astarion came closer towards them both with a smirk. “Well, loves, I guess it’s just our merry- ow!” He flicked his wrist as if he had been bitten by an insect. Gale saw how his skin began to smoke, the delicate fingertips of his hands cracking into a soft blue. “What the - oh gods. Oh no.” The sunlight.

Nana's panic was clear to see as she watched how Astarion fled across the docks, his abilities being altered by the absence of the tadpole. “We have to go after him!” she called to Gale, before beginning to run.

Gale reached an arm out stopping her progress. “There’s little point. There’s nothing we can do for him.”

“Maybe not, but he’s our friend. We can’t just leave him alone out there,” she pleaded with him. In mere moments she had lost over half of the people who had ever come to care for her, leaving only him alone with her. “We have to find him. Please, Gale.”

You’re right. The crown can wait. He gave a small nod and together they ran off in the direction they had seen Astarion flee.

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It had been over one hundred years since Astarion had felt the sun last burn his skin, a cruel torture technique that Cazador had used a few times for entertainment. But over the last few weeks, he had forgotten the feeling of it, the sting and then the pain that followed. He ran to the shadows, glad for the layer of dust in the air that blocked the sun’s direct rays from burning him up instantly. He crawled into himself, the days of those small beams prickling at his skin flashing in his mind, and he closed his eyes, willing them away, trying to work out his route to the Underdark where he would have to continue on alone.

What Astarion had not expected was to feel someone sit next to him as he sat alone behind the crates. He lifted his head and sat in confusion seeing Nana with him. After all they had been through, how he had treated her, and distrusted her so much. She still refused to abandon him like so many others had before. “He’s here, Gale,” she yelled out into the air.

Astarion didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want anyone to see him in this condition, with his face burnt by the sun, and his clothes tattered and torn. He buried his face in his knees again to shield himself from her view. As he spoke, his voice was quiet, more vulnerable than he would have liked, “Leave me alone.”

She said nothing but he didn’t feel her move. He heard Gale’s steps on the stone beside him and felt as he sat too. I don’t want their concern. He wanted to shout for them to leave again, he wanted his strength back, he wanted the sun, but they chose to never leave him. Even as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, they sat quietly with him waiting until he was ready to say goodbye on his own terms.

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“You’re going to be okay, right?” Nana’s lip quivered as she spoke the words on the shores of the Chionthar.

Gale gave her a reassuring smile, placing his hands over hers. “I will be.” He spoke with confidence, despite the worries he held within. He was thankful for the tadpole’s absence making these little moments that much easier to handle. “I will find the crown and come back to you. Do not worry for me.”

“I’m going to wait right here. I’ll stay here until you’re back.”

He could see the concern on her face, and he wished he could reassure her further. The letter he’d written lay in the journal he’d gifted her on the desk at the Elfsong Tavern, and he hoped she would never have to read it. Even if she did, he had spent hours with a quill in hand trying to provide the best words that could give her comfort if the worst were to happen. The kiss they shared felt too short, and Gale hoped it would not be their last. He boarded the boat to go out into the waters, letting his hands slip from hers. “Nana, know that I will always love you.”

He watched as she sat alone on the shore, her legs pulled up to her chest, and as she slowly disappeared from view he gave a quiet prayer to his goddess for her protection.

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Epilogue

It was a sunny day outside of Waterdeep. A lone gravestone could be seen, purple flowers lined around the base. Not far from it sat Nana in her natural changeling form, her short white hair had grown out and the scuffed leather armour had been replaced with an elegant silk gown.

"So, it's been a year now since that day by the river. A lot's happened, as you know. I held a proper funeral for you here and I was able to say my goodbyes. I met up with Karlach and the gang again. They said Avernus has been good to them. They mentioned something about a refinery and that they’re hopefully sorting something permanent for Karlach’s machine. I’m hopeful for her. Astarion went back to the Underdark as well and has pretty much put himself in charge of all the vampires. He looks well, a lot more at ease with himself than he used to be.”

She brushed her hair behind her ear. “And then there is me... Well, me and Gale are getting married. Yeah, I think he’s crazy too. I know you probably won’t be too happy about it, but then you were never really that happy about anything, were you? I wonder if you were always that way. Was there any way I could have really saved you?”

She sighed deeply looking at the tattered journal that sat beneath the stone. “I think that’s why I'm here today. I wanted to explain the choice I made a year ago. Why I didn't want to help you. I’d believed that I wasn’t enough, and when I met you, I thought that for maybe a moment you were the answer to everything. Too many times I questioned what you did and yet I allowed it, afraid of you leaving me. I was selfish and because of me, people got hurt, and people died. After meeting Gale, and everyone else, I realised that I am special in my own strange way and that being alone isn’t really what I want anymore. I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t need you anymore. I do hope though that you’re happy. You showed me a new world outside of my swamp, and maybe at some point, you did feel something for me other than the disgust you did a year ago.” She wiped away a stray tear and smiled. “Either way, I hope now that you’re gone, you’ve found some peace in death that you never had in life."

A few feet away Gale approached, his hair still weaving around the collar of his robes, though now with a layer tied neatly back. "Nana, If I could give you longer I really would but my mother is quite the stickler for being punctual. We’ve also received a letter about a tree growing at the location we previously camped at in Rivington. They’d like for us to come and claim it before they cut it down."

Nana looked at Gale and smiled before turning back to the gravestone. "Well, I guess this is it then…” She stood and placed a hand on the cold stone. “Goodbye, Thomas. I'll always remember our time together." She breathed deeply and approached Gale, sharing a brief kiss with him before settling her hand in his.

Together they left the resting place of Thomas, only the sound of birdsong left hanging in the air.

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Epilogue (Alternative)

The rains poured outside of Waterdeep. A lone gravestone could be seen, purple flowers lined around the base. Not far from it sat Gale his dark hair had grown out, greying more than it previously did and the scuffed purple robe had been replaced with leather armour.

"So, it's been a year now since that day by the river. A lot's happened, as you know. I held a proper funeral for you here and I was able to say my goodbyes. I met up with Karlach and the group again. They said Avernus has been good to them. They mentioned something about a refinery and that they’re hopefully sorting something permanent for Karlach’s machine. I’m hopeful for her. Astarion went back to the Underdark as well and has pretty much put himself in charge of all the vampires. He looks well, a lot more at ease with himself than he used to be.”

He brushed his hair back with his hand. “And then there is me... Well, I’m returning to my swamp. I stayed here for a while with Tara and your mother but they’re a bit much for me. I see the way they look at me, blaming me for what happened. I should have gone with you, I should have stopped you. I should have prayed harder to Mystra…”

Nana sat in his form holding her arms tightly around her body. She sighed deeply looking at the tattered journal that sat beneath the stone. “I think that’s why I'm here today. I wanted to say goodbye properly. I’d always believed that I wasn’t enough, and when I met you, I thought that for maybe a moment you were the answer to everything. I kept your form for comfort just like I did all those days past with Thomas and I know in some way you’re still with me but I know that I can’t keep doing this. I need to let you rest, I want to hold onto you, but I know it’s not what you want. Your letter brought me comfort and I keep it in the journal you bought for me. You never let me down, never. You were always worthy, always good enough and I just wish you knew that. I wish you were here so I could tell you every day how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you.” She wiped away a stray tear. “I’ll keep writing poetry for you."

A few feet away Astarion approached, a large black umbrella held over him, blocking his suit from becoming soaked. "Darling, if I could give you longer I really would but they expect the rain to clear in the next few hours and I’d love to get back to the Underdark long before that happens."

Nana looked at him and waved an arm not wanting to be rushed before turning back to the gravestone. "Well, I guess this is it then…” She stood, reverting back to her natural form. “Goodbye, Gale. My moon and star." She breathed deeply and approached Astarion, giving him a small nod, thankful for the rain coming down upon them.

Together they left the resting place of Gale, only the sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella left hanging in the air.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #galemance #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #well so long and thanks for all the fish

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nugget-lover-boy-draws · 7 years ago

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so what i put below the read more is a collection of blurbs i wrote for a story i had, but i wrote them whenever i was very depressed. all of them are not happy, but i’ve put enough plot points in them for them not to be too confusing.

i’ve not put these here for any other reason other than to just put them out there. i’ve had these personal for a long time, but i just want them to float on the internet.

warning: these do get dark and there are some detailed descriptions of gore and depressive thoughts and language.

There was too much blood, too many warm colors. Too much pink of Jacy’s exposed muscle and black of his burnt flesh. It was all Malachi saw, but yet two pure white eyes stared back at him. Those foggy orbs were bright and clear, a complete contrast to everything around them. What made Malachi die inside was the happiness that danced in them.

Jacy was smiling, despite everything. There was a hole where his heart should be, only some of his skin still held on, death was getting nearer- yet he smiled. Malachi held him in his arms, the wet, squishy shell of his partner while he saw time flow steadily before him. He didn’t try to fight the inevitable, but clung to the now and tried to stay strong for Jacy. With all his lover had done for him, he at least owed him this.

He knew how to kill a Wendigo. Rip their heart out and burn it; burying it and the body was just extra precaution. That was how you officially killed one, and Malachi knew that is what happened to Jacy. He knew his partner didn’t have one chance of living, so he knew he had to be the best he could in these final moments. Yet, Jacy talked like Malachi didn’t just pull him out of a burning abandoned mental hospital, like he still has his heart in his chest.

“All these years I never thought death could reach me. I believed this curse would follow me until this planet burns out. But it’s here, and it’s beautiful. I can finally be free of my inner torment. I can have the freedom I’ve dreamed of, but... The only thing I regret...” Jacy’s head slowly turned to look at him again, the smile leaving his lips. Color slowly returned to his partner’s irises again, letting Malachi see the swirl of brown that had captured him many times before. Jacy’s hand twitched its way to the human’s face and settled on his cheek. Malachi cupped the burned, wet hand in response and tears finally started falling.

“Is t-that I-I..-” Jacy coughed and spit up more blood that should have stayed in his body. “That I am not… With you.”

Malachi cried silently, keeping a good grip on the hand on his cheek, breaking, as it was slowly losing to gravity. Jacy stared at him long enough for the human to think he passed, but a phrase he had heard countless times before reached his ears. The words that Jacy had said before he went back to his time, words he said as they laid in bed for hours, when they went on hunts, when they were alone, when they were in public. The phrase had lost its value over time, but that phrase meant more to him now than ever. The words ‘I love you’ in his partner’s native language.

Malachi didn’t have much time until Jacy’s hand went fully limp in his.

He didn’t know how long he cried in that position with Jacy’s body slowly going cold and drying up. He didn’t stop wailing and screaming until he could no longer form a sound, until no more tears came. He sat back and rested Jacy’s head between his crossed legs, petting what was left of his hair just like they did to each other not even two months ago. He brushed his knuckles over Jacy’s cracking cheeks just like he did so many times before. He tried humming the tune Jacy had taught him, but his vocal chords were unresponsive.

He sat there for years and minutes, but only moved when the world around him shifted.

“You know that Destiel is totally canon; you literally can’t deny it, like seriously!”

The TV was playing Supernatural and Jacy was waving his arms wildly. Everything was warm and comforting, Jacy’s soft hair in his fingers and familiarity of their apartment. How long had it been?

He stilled and fought to understand which was reality. Jacy’s hair in his hand and the weight of his head on his lap felt very real, but so did his death. Everything felt strange and bile started to rise in his throat.

His partner’s head tilted back in his lap and looked up with a confused expression, “Hey, you okay?”

Malachi didn’t respond, but looked at Jacy with an intense stare. He studied the other’s features and tried to figure out what was real, but was halted when Jacy lifted his hand. The finger that Jacy raised to poke into his chest passed through him as the world blew away like smoke.

Jacy’s bloody, broken body still rested in his lap, his fingers stuck in the Native American’s hair.

“Oh… Oh my God!” A shrill voice echoed from behind him. He knows that voice.

Before Selene can say or do anything else, Malachi moved. He slowly and carefully places his partner’s head on the floor and places both crumbling hands on his still-damp chest. He ignores the stiff dryness of his pants as he stands up and faces the woman.

“M-my god, what happened?”

Malachi suddenly remembers how Jacy died, or, how he was murdered. By the man that laid not even three meters away.

Immediately, a searing rage engulfed him and he didn’t think straight anymore. Other urges inside him that he never knew he had manifested and sunk their claws into his brain. He heard his blood boil in his ears and felt a sweeping rush sear through him, like something inside him just unleashed itself. He was moving and suddenly the petrified face of Simon was in front of him, the bastard’s neck held tight in Malachi’s hand. He lifted the man with such an ease he’d never experienced before and enjoyed the writhing the pitiful, damned man tried.

Malachi felt something within him grow and strive, slither and come to light. He felt such urges, familiarity and power that would have overwhelmed him had he not had a clear task at hand. Such thoughts and instincts of an animal raced around his head and he couldn’t tell which idea he liked better. Suddenly, everything gained a clarity and he was acutely aware of everything going on. He could feel Selene’s horrified aura behind him and the pure terror that radiated from the man in his hand.

Blood began to swell in Simon’s eyes as he started violently convulsing. One of his eyes deflated and a black-speckled, clear substance poured down his cheek. Simon’s mouth opened and his tongue shot out, slowly getting longer and longer. Blood steadily started dripping down his jaw and onto the cold, concrete ground as he heard the ripping from the other man’s mouth. Malachi could understand that he was the one doing this, but it was far too satisfying to stop and figure out how a human could tear a man apart with his mind.

A cut appeared on each cheek and slowly grew larger, the skin slowly peeling back to expose pink, bloody flesh. Just how Jacy looked. Looks.

Soon and fulfilling, Simon’s face was being pulled back while the sorry piece of existence was still breathing. He should fix that.

Soon, two loud pops sounded from Simon’s throat and his breathing was replaced by what sounded like wrinkling tin foil as he tried to suck in breaths with his now deflated lungs.

Malachi let go of the man’s neck and found himself impressed at how Simon stayed suspended in air. He watched as his thoughts pushed Simon back until he was pressed against the wall, and smiled as the other’s arms stretched wide. The instruments that he used to cut open Jacy levitated up and shot themselves into the man’s hands, now suspending him like a brutal reincarnation of Jesus’ crucifixion. Before Malachi let the man fully die, Simon’s chest ripped open and Malachi pinned the flaps of skin to the wall with more scissors, scalpels, and other blades. Immediately, his guts fell to the floor in an ugly heap.

The moment Malachi did this, Simon stopped moving, but he didn’t stop his fun because of it. One by one he plucked a rib bone from its place and stabbed them into random parts of his body. His lungs hung like deflated balloons. Malachi noticed the flaps of skin pulled back on his face were hanging in an ungraceful way, so he fixed that by ripping them off completely and pinning the skin on the wall above Simon like a grotesque trophy.

Suddenly, an anguished cry rang out from behind him and he remembered Selene was here. The urges he felt just moments before dissipated like ashes in the wind. He turned and stared at the woman, seeing her cup her mouth and cry, shaking violently. She sank to her knees and sobbed, but only then did Malachi feel again. His heart throbbed and he found himself falling to his knees as well, all the immense power he felt left him in an instant.

..oo0oo..

“Malachi, stop!” He wouldn't have listened, but Selene cast a charm to make him immobile. He grew angrier at her interference, but didn't break out, even though he knew he could. She approached him and stood tall in his face, but he could pick out the lingering fear in her eyes.

“What are you doing, Malachi?” She asked. He was about to reply with something along the lines of, ‘What I've been craving.’, but she continued. “What would Jacy think of this? What would he think of what you're doing right now?”

“I'm avenging him!” He screamed, anger bubbling through his being. He brushed off the charm and walked forewords, glaring at Selene. She backed up, but didn't lose her composure.

“You avenged him when you skinned Simon alive. Now you're just killing innocent people because something in you broke beyond fixing.” He didn't know how to respond, so she ignored his silence and continued.

“Jacy spent his entire life saving people from bad guys, and what do you think he'd feel if he knew you became one of them, huh? He gave everything he had to make sure people were safe, and you're throwing away all his life’s work by doing this. If you keep going like this, then you didn't care about him at all.”

Malachi felt tears fall down his cheeks and the hole in his heart throb. Her words echoed in his head and a battle started taking place behind his eyes. He was losing the part of him that could differentiate right from wrong, but the part of him that fought alongside Jacy had been screaming at him ever since he first killed an innocent. He felt the need to kill, but somewhere he knew he shouldn't be.

He fell to his knees, surrounded by desperation and agony. He looked up to the blurry ceiling as Selene followed him and wrapped him in her embrace. He cried and screamed as a flurry of repressed emotions finally came through.

“I'm losing myself, Selene. Everything is slipping and I can't hang on. I can't do this; it's so hard to continue. I want to kill myself so badly, but something inside me always stops. I kill other people because it soothes me for a while, but it's not enough. It's smothering me and I can't do this.”

By the end of the vocalization of his emotional turmoil, Selene’s green shirt was ripped by his clenched fists and his head was spinning. Her arms were tight around him, the only thing keeping him from collapsing. She didn't say anything for a long while, but eventually started humming a familiar tune.

His heart sung along and he started wailing. He tried to push Selene away, but she held firm and continued the melody. He gave up and just laid there in her arms, listening to the song that Jacy had sung to him.

Her fingers danced through his dirty and greasy hair, and he soon met darkness.

I miss him too.

When he woke up, he felt almost at peace. He recognized the smell of cinnamon and the soft purple walls of Selene’s house. He was wrapped up in a handmade, quilted blanket and was lying on her living room couch. Other than getting up and assessing the situation, he elected to lay there. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do because that hollow, dark part of him still persisted, but the human part of him was stronger now.

..oo00oo..

The ocean lapped at his bare feet, the warm wind hugged him and blew his hair around his face; it was a most peaceful, innocent thing, but the familiarity sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. He could imagine Jacy swimming out in the distance, happily yelling and giggling. His partner always had an infatuation with water and absolutely loved the ocean, which is probably why Malachi chose this spot. He didn’t deserve this good of a place, but it was the only place he felt most guilty. None of the other places he tried really pushed him over the edge into despair like this one.

He absentmindedly wrapped the thick, rustic chain around his neck and secured it strongly as he thought about old memories. The old chain was heavy and scratchy around his exposed flesh, but he didn't feel uncomfortable. If anything, he was at peace. This feeling must have been what Jacy experienced as his smiling self died in Malachi’s arms. Completely at peace with everything.

He stared at the mix of pinks and oranges on the horizon as he began treading on the water towards it. He stared at the swirl of cool mixing with warm, casting such a wondrous glow on his skin, he was reminded on how beautiful the world can be. The beautiful world that he tried to destroy.

The ocean was cool, but he didn't mind; the sunset was warm and welcoming enough. It was like Jacy had painted it just for him. Like Jacy was making this night pure and beautiful just for him; just for his broken self. Trying to provide solace for the lost.

He hoped Selene wouldn't take his sudden absence too badly since he wasn't going to come back from this. He already apologized enough in the letter wrote for her, so she didn't need to come for him. There was nothing left of him left worth saving. Anything good about him had withered away ever since Jacy died, and no matter how hard he tried to cling to his sanity for everyone’s own good, he didn’t succeed. His morals slipped between the gaps in his fingers as he tried to bury his feelings six feet under.

He tried to put up a good front for Selene these past couple years. At first he was perfect at it, it was just like slipping into another form of mind, the one he had before Jacy was murdered. But as his mental health dwindled, that front was harder to put on. His ability to feel had crumbled to the point where he couldn’t convincingly react to things like he would before. Out of all of this, he was able to feel only a few things. Anger, pain, and emptiness.

When he wasn’t putting up a front for Selene, he was out. Or, more specifically, taking people out, and he wasn’t talking about dates. Malachi was in such pain and experiencing so much trauma, he didn’t want to be the only one with this torture.

At first, it had been innocents, random people he would snatch off dark streets when the pain got too much. He would tear them apart and cry the entire time, crying at the satisfaction he got from their terror and agony. He was so disgusted at himself for finding solace in killing innocent people, but eventually found that voice in his head was getting muffled every time he did it again. Soon, there was a name floating around the city. They called him the ‘Black Demon’.

Selene heard of this and was smart enough to put two and two together. He didn’t stop until she confronted him during one of his kills and reminded him of what Jacy lived for, what he fought for. Malachi spent a year murdering and mutilating innocent people while Jacy had spent centuries slaying the monsters that did exactly that. He became the creature that Jacy pledged himself to defeat.

After that, he stopped, from what Selene knew. He kept it up, but this time he found reason to kill people other than the rage and hurt in his soul. He preyed on the scumbags and criminals of the city and ripped them apart in the worst ways. He never cleaned his messes, so controversy started over the ‘Black Demon’ on which the murders were by the same man and if the Demon was good or not. Malachi knew which one he was.

He did this for two years, gained a mainly positive reputation, and played witness to what he was becoming and what he was doing. The agony was never going to end, and he knew that. If there was a Hell, he knew where he was spending eternity.

Despite this, he was happy with the current events, happy that he finally lost his fears and worries. He didn't feel the gut-wrenching terror he felt before, nor the warnings in his head that this was a bad idea and he should turn back now. He was empty, so it was about time he filled himself again.

However, he did make sure Selene knew how much he appreciated her efforts for him, how much he loved her and cherished her soul. He made sure she knew none of this was her fault; he didn't blame her. He didn't blame anyone anymore.

He focused once more on the darkening sunset, studying its brush of colors and swirl of clouds. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd seen, so ironic for the pitiful event he planned tonight. Yet, Malachi knew Jacy would have loved to have seen the distant view. He would have taken so many pictures and deleted them all because they ‘couldn't catch the essence’.

At the memory of Jacy scowling at his phone and complaining to him over the quality of the photos on it caused Malachi to stop. His heart dropped and he was disgusted that pain was almost the only feeling he had anymore.

He turned around and judged his distance from the shore. He walked maybe a mile, which would be good enough.

He looked to the large cinder block that floated next to him, the same chain around his neck looped through its holes. With the reality of his plan right before him, he understood he was not going back. It was time.

He faced the sunset once more, the orange and pink replaced with a variety of blues. The horizon glowed so comforting, he felt relaxed and reassured. He was welcomed, no matter how hellish his afterlife. He felt comfort in its presence, but was still aware of the chain hanging from his neck. He closed his eyes.

With goodbye on his lips and sorrow deep in his heart, he let the cinder block drop.

His body was ripped backwards and he instantly found himself plunged in the cool, salty waters of the ocean. He watched the bubbles from his nose and mouth rise to the surface that he was sinking from. He watched as darkness grew thicker and as pressure built in him. The leather of his long, black coat whipped at his sides and his hair moved in the same manner. As he sank deeper, the swelling in his head doubled, and then, there was nothing.

00-00-00-00

He woke up. Why did he wake up?

The smell hit him first. It was fresh like far in the woods where civilization never touched. It was crisp and old, but had a toxic edge.

Was he dreaming?

He opened his eyes. No, he couldn't be dreaming. It was like he opened his eyes into a video game, something of fantasy.

The walls surrounding him were made of wooden boards and all the supports were wood too, no windows to be found. An old cottage or cabin or sorts, and everything looked like it was brought from the Medieval Era. Just one large, single room. No electricity in sight, candles and lanterns took that place. There was a unique desk and chair with papers and books towering high. A small fireplace took residence near the bed.

He was cocooned in a heavy, quilted blanket on a wooden bed with a headboard so simple that he had to sit up and process better.

He looked around again, understanding the wool in his hands. The paintings that hung on the walls were just that- paintings; not printed or copied. There was enough of a draft to know that there wasn't insulation, but the ground was carpeted.

Suddenly, he realized why he wasn't freaking out at this new development. This place felt familiar, like a very distant memory. But there was still a very prominent concern.

He died. How was he here? This is some strange afterlife if that's the case.

He watched the covers pull away from his legs. So he still had that feat. He didn't have longer to think.

The large, wood door began to open and he stared intently, waiting for whoever to give him answers.

A petite, blonde woman stepped in. Her hair was pulled back into a fancy braid and her clothes confirmed he wasn't in his own world. She wore form-fitting, green cloth leggings that looked to be stitched up on both sides, shoes that mildly resembled that of a pilgrim, but without the large buckle on top, and a decorative white blouse.

"Oh, good. You're awake." Her voice and words contradicted her appearance. She didn't seem to be fazed by his presence, so he chose not to be either.

"Where am I?"

"Not avoiding the big question, huh? I can tell you one thing; you're alive."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Because the better question would be 'when are you', not 'where'. I believe I best explain."

He watched as she casually walked over to the desk, swung the chair around, and sat facing him, straddling the back rest.

"Everything you lived was an illusion. The world you lived in only existed in your head. You do not have a sister, you do not have those parents. You were born and raised here and put under a powerful sleep-hypnotic spell so we could advance your powers and mind faster. Being under the spell for so long has dwindled your memory of this place, but this is where you spent the majority of your life. I can promise you, you went under the spell willingly."

Malachi took a second to ponder the information. The world he experienced was fake; all the science and history wasn't actually true. So nothing he did before mattered? Interesting. Although, he still felt guilt.

"You're looking at 3002. Nuclear war set right after the little world you experienced wiped out plenty of the population. There was some truth to the world you were set in. Not everything was accurate, but that's the basics of our history. What you're seeing now is the slow recovery being set. And right now, war is on the horizon again, but this time it could wipe out the entire planet as a whole. We need warriors, and the fastest way to do that, Sebastian and I figured, was to make people like you age and develop in your own worlds faster than you would in this time. Think of it this way, 24 hours in your world was 1 minute in ours."

Malachi understood the information presented to him, but the reality still hurt.

"Am I the only one? No one in my world existed?"

She hesitated, but her face remained stern, crossing her arms on the top of the chair.

"No, actually. We discovered that by doing the ritual at the same time on people in close proximity actually made them share the same world. Jacy and Selene are real and alive, although Selene still is yet to awaken."

He looked at the soft, red carpet. All the agony he endured and caused was fake. His heart and mind tore themselves apart because of an illusion. Jacy's death wasn't real, but he spent three years believing it was, suffering the consequences of a mirage.

The image of Jacy's dead, burned, bloody body will never leave him, and all for him to develop into a cold, merciless warrior to fight a war he knows nothing about.

"I had to endure my mind shattering and my humanity falling to pieces because you need warriors to fight a war?"

"In our defence, that was never our intention. We did not expect you three to share a world, nor did we predict you would all meet at all or develop such bonds. We only have minimal impacts on your world, but the rest was up to the spell. You have my apologies, if we had known how Jacy's death would have affected you, we might have avoided it."

His blood boiled, "Might?"

"Yes. It was only after Jacy's death did your abilities awaken, of course at the cost of your mental health. All it usually takes is a small push like that. It's common for us to have to experience something traumatic before we unlock our assets. It is also what makes us perfect for war. We're colder, less hesitant to perform a needed slaughter of the enemy. When you were 20 in your world, your heart dropped at the thought of accidentally killing a dog. Now, you don't bat an eye at stringing up a rapist by his intestines in the woods. These are the people we need, not afraid to make the final blow. Of course, we also need leaders and other teammates, for we are only the hand that forces."

He understands, but he's not happy about it.

"What's this war about?"

She didn't skip a beat, talking like she's rehearsed.

"After the nuclear war, the people that survived started slowly noticing changes. Minor changes at first, then came the more drastic, noticeable effects. People that were closer to the blasts got it the worst, we call them Finsa. They are the very things children in your world feared in their closets. Their bodies mutated, and along with that, their minds. They're savage and animalistic, but a sense of mind still remains and that makes them dangerous. They can plan, understand, and ruin; they are predators, and we are their prey.

"The ones that were affected by the radiation a bit less are the Tvral. They are mutated, but still have many human characteristics. They have a more stable sense of mind, and can be our allies, or our enemies.

"And we, the Valran, have been affected the least. Minor physical changes and we have the most sensible mind, in my opinion. We usually have the most civilized communities and orderly conducts. You and Selene are Valran, Jacy is a Tvral. In his world, well, your world, he was able to shift between forms, Wendigo and human. We found that very surprising, since he does not have that ability to take a human appearance. What I'm telling you is that Jacy has the same mind he had in the world, just like you do, but he does not have the same appearance."

Malachi did not respond. He was still trying to get over the hurdle that Jacy was still alive, but now Jacy probably permanently looked like his true Wendigo form. He decided to ignore that.

"So why is there a war?"

"For a while, all of us had lived in moderate peace, as much as you can get with those savages trying to slaughter anyone that's not them. However, something started changing. The attacks on us started increasing. More travelers went missing, merchants not arriving, ambushes on smaller villages. They have become more skilled in murdering us. However, that was only the beginning.

"Recently, we found out why they've started growing in power. They have found a leader, one that has more power than all of us. He is grotesque and malicious, and he wants more than his minion army. We've heard whispers of his name- Galyisiam. He is a very real threat and if he gets what he wants, it's the end for all of us."

"So I can't kill myself again out of spite for all the shit thrust into my arms?"

"If you do, you might have just caused Hell on Earth. We need everyone we can get, especially with advanced powers as your own."

"So, in this world it's common for people to have powers?"

"Yes. Finsa are the most common to develop powers, which is a disadvantage to us. They're usually born with abilities, while us Valran have to awaken them, if we have any at all. If we Valrans do not possess any ability, we are able to pursue artificial magic, as I and Selene do. It's very difficult, and only looked to by the capable and daring, the rest are commoners or trained into the Order as Plavven- the common soldier.

"Those who are educated suspect that humans have always had the ability to do more than what our history speaks. Tales of monsters and of the supernatural might not have been as fiction as we all assumed, but the more we advanced, we grew farther from the truth. The radiation from the war might have gave the kick that we needed to unlock that tucked away potential."

She paused, watching him. He stared right back, now noticing the smaller features he didn't before. Her light skin tone was normal enough, but as he looked closer he could see her veins cast a subtle green hue. Her eyes were also lime green, along with her lips.

He stopped looking.

"The only way you were eligible to undergo the ritual was if you joined our organization. We breed soldiers that are strong and dependable to be on the front lines. We take the brunt of the enemy and actively search them out. We have connections and recruits that make us more of an army than a band of misfits that don't like to hide from danger.

"We are the soldiers of this army. Our boss is Commander Kellansei, he gives us orders and we complete them. And he takes orders from our big boss, Leader Sammiel. He has power over everyone here, but he's reliable."

She stood up, walking to the door. "I'll fetch you a meal while you process all you've heard. We'll head out and give you a run of the town later."

She shut the door behind her and silence greeted him again.

The moment he stood up, he fell to the floor. His shoulder smacked on the carpet and his head followed next.

..oo00oo..

Malachi tore the head off the Snivel, watching the dark creature slump to the ground and he dropped the elongated head next to it. The deformed head rolled next to the black, tar arm and faced up at him, eyes vacant and cold. He spared the monster only a glance before turning back into the woods. He planned to do more scouting and secure the area, however, he wasn’t alone.

“So you’re Worrin, Demon of the Shadows.” The voice was a mere whisper in the trees, sliding around him and coming from every angle. He stopped, focusing his mind to find the source. It was weird, like whoever was speaking was just the wind.

“I’d have thought you’d look different, you know. After waking up and donning a new identity. Old habits are hard to kick, I guess.” The voice circled around him and held his breath. He finally looked around, uselessly trying to find who was talking to him.

“Who are you?” He demanded, for once in a long time, feeling vulnerable. The voice didn’t respond, but he could still feel its presence around him. It was unnerving and he was preparing for a fight. Suddenly, it all gathered in one spot behind him.

“You didn’t come for me. You didn’t wait for me when they told you I was alive. You hid from everyone; you hid from me. Why?”

Malachi suddenly placed the voice. He knew who was behind him. He didn’t turn; he couldn’t. He didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. However, he did hear Jacy gently and slowly approaching him.

“They told me what you did after I woke up. They told me what you were doing in our world. You- You’re not the same man I once knew, are you?” The Wendigo’s tone told Malachi that Jacy already knew the answer, told him it really wasn’t even a question. The words fell hard on his chest, but he swallowed the guilt.

“Ever since I woke up, a hole opened in my heart, though I know it’s not as vast as yours. I knew we would reunite, so I was able to tolerate the pain again, like when we first met. However, I didn’t realize in what circumstance that would be. I just need to know- Do you still care for me?”

Malachi’s heart thrummed with yes, but it wasn’t strong, not that he could feel. However, this statement prompted him to turn around, to finally face Jacy.

Everything startled him, but the intricate network of antlers above the other’s head is what fascinated him the most. They twisted and curled like mystical branches, but he could see that they were trimmed, probably to keep decent mobility. They didn’t reach more than a foot above his head.

He still had long, wavy black hair, framing his white face in such a contrast, Malachi wouldn’t class him as a monster. Jacy’s eyes were snow white, skin pulled tight over his entire frame, but his face didn’t lose appeal. He still had the same features, just a little more sunken.

He was maybe a foot and a half taller and Malachi assumed he looked damn near like a skeleton, but his assassin garbs covered his body. He had a hunch, menacing and ready to lunge. Malachi pondered that it was probably the default posture, having to bend over all the time to talk properly and enter buildings.

Even though the man looked near completely different, it was still Jacy. He could see his common fidget, rubbing his thumb over the side his pointer finger, the way his legs were spaced in his stance, and the eyes. They looked at him, and although they were slightly harder to read, Malachi could still pick out the emotions. Hope, guilt, pleading, despair.

Malachi redirected his attention to the question. He asked his heart, and voiced the response.

“Not in the way I did before. I lost too much to be able to do that again. The only reason I still do care for you are our memories.”

Malachi had to lay witness to the absolute agony that took resident in Jacy’s features. His mouth drooped in defeat, his eyes glimmered in affliction, and his eyebrows drew in betrayal. As he watched, he could see his former lover wither and his own soul throbbed in empathy. He didn’t provide any comfort, since he didn’t need to. Jacy was too naive and ignorant to fully grasp Malachi’s change, so he didn’t have much sympathy for the other.

His heart couldn’t heal, even with the fact that it could long for Jacy again. The world damaged him too far, and he didn’t have the strength to pick up the debris- it had blown away, so if he could or even wanted to, he didn’t have the pieces to fix himself anymore.

Jacy laughed, bringing the Valran’s attention back to Tvral. It was a broken, forced sound. “I was foolish to think I could have you back. I didn’t grasp that the Malachi I loved died back there just as I did to you.”

He didn’t say anything, but he agreed.

“Well, Worrin, let fate decide if we meet again.” Jacy said with a faded smile, then became a white blur that disappeared into the trees in a second. The moment he was truly gone, when Malachi could no longer feel him, he wept in sorrow. His muscles lagged and he fell to his hands and knees, dropping his head in shame. He let every emotion he thought he’d abandoned sweep over him and do their damage. Because now, Jacy was truly and completely gone.

He screamed into the burning air and dug his fingers into the Earth. Such torture bubbled in his being and such pain gripped him and it rivaled the agony he endured when he first thought Jacy had died. He trembled and unleashed cry and wail to the ground, feeling his mind turn into a ravaging storm of emptiness, sadism, and abandonment envelop his entire being. He was lost in maltreatment and abuse and couldn’t see his way to the light.

Eventually, the storm cleared and he tried to blink away the blurriness. There was a prominent, unpleasant pressure behind his eyes and found he was lying immobile on his side. The emptiness he’d grown used to returned in a heavy robustness that he stared ahead at the trees. He didn’t need to blink, as the tears came steadily. He just watched the vague, rough outline of the trees sway.

#depressing thoughts #depressing story #depressing #story

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