#but another resurrection spell is going to be attempted maybe?

[cosmosoracle]

The jaws of the General were the last thing she saw, for a brief second after returning conscious from already fatal damage. 

She would be happy to know that, in the end, Zinnya and Hoyt survived, and that Roktor recognized especially his strength and granted the team approval for the attack on the Vitalia. Hopefully, she will open her eyes again to live it in first person. 

If not... she can only hope in who survived, and for a quiet travel through the River of Souls.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hey, I saw you take request and so I wanted to ask if you could write some fluff, maybe some Astarion comforting Tav after they went through a panick attack

Gender neutral if possible please, I just had my first ever panick attack and would love some comfort from my fav Vampire <3

- Astarions-Imagine-Archiche [Would love to go off anon but sadly, Tumblr dosent let me send asks through sideblogs]

Hi! Hope you will enjoy it!

FEAR

Sometimes it's just too much to bear TW: A description of a panic attack Tags: hurt \ comfort, gn!reader, nurturing Astarion, post game, established relationship Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Surrounded by a fiery inferno, you sense the escalating heat in the air. The thick layer of fabric shields your skin from immediate harm, yet your body responds almost primally.

Scorching and stifling air leaves you struggling to breathe, and the smoke stings your eyes.

Fire.

An indiscriminate devourer of all, whether mortal or undead, demon or elf, it rages like a starving beast. Discarding your sword, you decide to leap, knowing the flames will only graze your skin a bit.

"Ig-nis!" Astarion's voice rings out, casting a fireball into the necromancer. The half-orc topples, weakening the ring of fire around you. Muscles tense, preparing for the leap, but an abrupt freeze takes over just as your feet are about to propel you forward.

Attempting to move your hand, your brain feels detached, as though subjected to a Mindflayer's experiment. The fire intensifies, yet your legs remain unresponsive. Trapped within the confines of your own body, you are helpless and silent.

It's merely a "hold person" spell, lasting a minute or two or until Astarion dispatches the necromancer. Nothing harmful, nothing scary. The enemy just wants to win some time. 

Immobile, you manage to shift your eyelids just slightly. Astarion is nowhere to be seen while the necromancer looms ten feet before you. Approaching like a ghoul, his eyes scrutinize you as if you're a specimen in a lab.

Astarion. Astarion, where are you? Panic sets in. What if he's wounded, dead, or worse, turned into a mindless ghoul under a new master's control?

The necromancer, eyeing you with a sinister hunger, licks his lips. "Pretty creature. You will serve me well once you die."

His touch on your right temple triggers another memory—a Mindflayer's pod, helplessness, fear, disgust. A tadpole approaching your eyelid.

If you could scream, you would. 

"What is your worst nightmare?" the sorcerer whispers, casting the second spell.

Suddenly, you're back in the Nautiloid. A Mindflayer cracks your skull open, and the scent of burning bone fills the air. The monster probes your bare brain, and it sprouts thin black legs. Your organ is no longer yours; it's an intellect devourer.

A vision unfolds. Astarion's body writhes and transforms into a Mindflayer. "Don't do this to me. I can't do this again!" he cries for help until his face explodes, tentacles burst forth. 

You fall again, from the Nautiloid to the seashore, but the Emperor is unwilling to save you. Your spine breaks on the rocks.

Baldur's Gate. The day of the attack. The Nautiloid inches forward, missing Astarion, who escapes to the sewers. You'll never see him again; he's condemned to be his new master's slave.

No, no, please, no, gods help me.

Suddenly, the fear releases its grip, your hands and legs regain movement, and you collapse onto the scorched ground. 

"Fuck!" you curse. "Fuck you, bastard!" 

The necromancer lies dead. Fat flies crawling on his rotten flesh.

"Well, someone needs to learn how to dodge”, Astarion chuckles. “Next time, it'll be something more dangerous, like a power word spell or a death finger. Instant death, and you're resurrected as a ghoul," strong hands lift you up, and you stand on your feet once again.

"Where have you been," you mutter, your voice trembling.

He pulls away. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't see you. I thought you were dead. Where were you?"

"Darling, I made sure to disappear from his decayed eyes. I prefer an advantage when the enemy... let's say... has their ways with the undead and the dead." He tilts your chin up, making you look into his crimson eyes. 

If you weren't as tired and numb, guilt might settle in. That's how he fights—no knight, no warrior. He hides and attacks when the enemy forgets about him. It's not his fault you were knocked out, but the bitterness lingers in your heart, replacing the fear.

Returning to the small camp silently, you muster the last remnants of your strength to pull off your armor. Astarion sits by the fire with a book, not attempting to join you in the tent. Guilt pervades your thoughts. What if your rudeness jeopardizes the progress, you've made together?

What if you wake up the following day, and he's gone?

Your mind spirals in twisted ways. What if a piece of the tadpole remains in your brain? Powerful creatures aren't to be trusted. What if it's still there, waiting to hatch? What if Astarion harbors one inside his head as well? What if this isn't the end, and unthinkable horrors lie ahead? What if one day you wake up and hear a voice subduing you to some eldritch, horrible, and insane entity?

You feel like you can't breathe. The heart races, heavy as a tombstone, and your hands are numb and cold. The uncertainties weigh on you like a suffocating shroud.

A lump rises in your throat, an unbearable sensation that makes you want to vomit. You press your hands to your chest and breathe heavily as if you are short of air.

Light steps approach from behind. "Darling, your breathing can be heard in a nearby village. What's wrong?" The voice sounds distant, echoing through thick walls. Suddenly, your eyesight blurs, reality becoming an illusion, disconnecting you from your body. The voice sounds unfamiliar and distorted.

Astarion wraps his hands around your waist. "It's okay, everything is alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." 

 It still feels unreal, as if someone tries to imitate your lover's voice.

"I- I am…I am dying", you whisper.

"It's just a panic attack, nothing more," he replies. "Let me guess, he casted the fear spell on you? You saw something unpleasant, didn’t you? Illithids, I bet." 

Astarion brushes your hair with pale fingers and then kisses the crown of your head. He gently touches your hand, then your leg. "You are here. You are safe with me. And if someone threatens you, I will rip their throats." He holds you tighter, speaking comforting words. The lines he once used for seduction and manipulation now sound like a weird, soothing spell.

You don't feel your body. You don't understand where you are. You remember the Nautiloid, the blood, the fear. 

You start crying. You haven't cried for ages – first, there was no time to reflect on awful things happening to you. Then, it was Astarion who needed you to be strong because he was a mess after 200 years of abuse and sudden freedom he didn't dream of having. But now it’s you who is overwhelmed and scared.

"Hush, everything is okay. You are safe with me," Astarion whispers.

Suddenly, you come to your senses. The racing heart subsides, and the looming horror fades.

You breathe freely. Astarion strokes your hair. "Feeling better?"

You nod and find the strength to sit up. "What can I do for you, my love?" Astarion asks.

Licking your dry lips, you realize the intense need for water causing your dizziness. Before you can utter a word, the vampire reaches for a flask. In three big gulps, you drain the bottle and collapse onto your back in the tent. The thick black fabric, enchanted with the "darkness" spell, feels like a reassuring wall, offering a sense of safety rather than claustrophobia.

Astarion lies beside you, wrapping his hands around your waist. But instead of pressing his face against your collarbone as usual, he pushes against his chest. If he were alive, you would hear his heartbeat. 

"I am just—I don't know—afraid?" you finally admit. "I'm afraid this Illithid madness isn't over, and something is stuck in our brains waiting for the right moment. I'm afraid to die. I'm afraid you will die. I'm afraid that one of these powerful creatures we pissed off will come for our souls. I'm afraid you will slip into feral madness, and there's nothing I will be able to do to prevent this."

He presses you even tighter. "You are a very brave little thing, you know that?" he finally says. "I insist on that. Leading the way from this Illithid madness, letting me close despite knowing who I am. Facing any danger or monster. But sometimes it's just too much, right?"

You nod and receive one more kiss. "I will always be with you; I am not going anywhere. And when it just feels too much, you tell me. I will gladly take a nurturing role. Besides, you've been caring for me for far too long. Time to change roles."

Slowly, you drift into sleep, the last thing you remember before slipping away being Astarion whispering, "I am lucky to have you."

--

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive

[thebawdybaldurian]

Halsin/Tav Week Day 3

I had some initial thoughts on today's prompts, but decided to use the opportunity to do a significant chapter re-write and also incorporate both prompts. Halsin is the first character I've written knotting stuff for and maybe the only one I ever will unless it is an OC, but boy I like the idea. This is a fairly tame example, but I have several other ficlets in my archive if you go searching through my #Halsin tag. Enjoy!

Knotting/Voyeurism

Content and Warnings: masturbation with a foreign object, inappropriate use of Mage Hand, voyeurism, masturbation, knotting, squint of breeding/mating kink.

This is an excerpt...full chapter is here.

Halsin was having trouble entering his trance, his thoughts racing between the grove, the Shadow Curse, the cultists, and Clataedre. He still couldn’t bring himself to call her by her nickname, preferring the elven one that suited her so well. She was incredibly charming and as beautiful as a rose. She even favored the floral scent in the creams she wore on her skin, stirring his nose every time she was near her. He’d had an instant physical attraction to her at the goblin camp, her seductive ruse feeling less false the moment she’d kissed him. He’d felt a spark despite the kiss being part of the act. He thought perhaps the blush on her cheeks when they’d pulled away meant that she had felt it as well, but she was bonded to another, a handsome elf in his own right.

Despite whatever complications they claimed to have in their relationship, they seemed quite close and well suited from one another. Halsin wasn’t planning to woo her away, yet she still lingered in his mind. Perhaps he just longed for someone as caring as she seemed, after having been alone for so long. She’d risked her life and health to retrieve something stolen from her lover and had attempted to help an orphaned owlbear cub. Despite being dead and recently resurrected, her smile was still bright and her laughter like a song.

He finally got up and left his tent, the rest of camp seemingly asleep, so he didn’t bother putting on clothes. They’d felt safe enough with the Druidic wards he’d set around the camp to forgo a watch. He went to find water so he could mix up a tincture to help him sleep, but heard a soft cry from Tav’s tent. He was concerned that she’d aggravated the mortal wound she was still healing from, so he went to check on her.

He pulled her tent flap aside a little, about to ask if she was alright, but stood completely frozen. Though the tent was unlit, his elven darkvision revealed the interior. She wasn’t asleep or in pain, but folded over her knees, her bare ass held high in the air. Her chemise was pulled above her waist and she was vigorously fucking herself with a faintly glowing gem using a Mage Hand. Her audible cry had been an aberration, as she was now huffing quietly into the pillow of her bedroll. She recast the spell several times, until she finally climaxed, her entire body shaking and the quietest of whimpers escaping from her throat.

He let the tent flap fall silently and began to back away, feeling the beast clawing to get out. He turned and went off in a full sprint, his body shifting effortlessly into his bear form. He ran towards the woods, his hot breath misting in the cool night air. He finally stopped as he fell against a tree, back to his elven form and leaning against the trunk to catch his breath. His cock was red and throbbing, a thick bead of pre-cum oozing from the tip. He’d never felt the need to rut so badly in his life.  He spit into his hand, starting to stroke himself immediately, his breath still loud and ragged.

He tried to recall every detail of the scene he’d just witnessed. The faint glow of the gem had given him a tantalizing glimpse of her sex, completely slick and blushing like a dark pink rose. Her ass and hips rocked with each thrust of the spectral hand, making quiet sucking sounds as the gem slid in and out of her. He could smell her musk, the scent trapped in the small space before he’d peered through the tent flap. She’d done so well keeping quiet, her moans and whimpers muffled in her pillow until their very last. He thought he’d heard her moan his name right before she’d come, but he surely must have imagined it.

The saliva on his palm wasn’t enough, he wanted to feel as slick as being inside her. He reached for a nearby bush, knowing that the leaves secreted a thin, sticky sap if they were crushed. He smashed them between his palms, his cock wobbling hungrily for more attention. He smeared the fragrant, earthy sap along his cock, stroking himself again.  He imagined himself positioned behind her, taking over for the gem or moving gently into her asshole if she preferred. He stroked himself to the rhythm of her hips, an urgent thrust downward and a slower creep back up. He didn’t need to silence his ardor, however, moaning her name loudly and breathing heavily.

He gripped the tree with his free hand, feeling his fingers digging into the bark. He felt a growl growing in his throat as he quickened his pace, matching the speed she’d used to finally climax. With each stroke downward, he felt his fingers nudging against a hot, thickening bulb at the base of his cock. It grew with each thrust he imagined being inside her, tightening his grip like her own canal would do when she reached her end. He let out desperate roar as he erupted across the tree, the sharp nails of his bear-form marking the trunk as well. He squeezed every last drop of cum out, his knot still throbbing from being untied. He’d knotted with previous partners a few times, but never on his own before. She’d somehow made him knot without even being around him. He realized he wanted nothing more in his life than to tie with her, lie still beside her for hours, and hopefully raise children with her. He sunk against the tree with a plaintive whimper, knowing that was likely never possible.

[weebsinstash]

*sighs as I add the yandere Batfam to my Blorbo list* do y'all ever have such a genuinely unsatisfying life and childhood you start for whatever reason vicariously living through age regression ideas where you're literally raised by other people

Like imagine you're a superhero/vigilante but you're fairly small time and you've actually bumped into Batman a handful of times and, he actually likes you, your heart is in the right place, and through some wacky villain shenanigans or some Lazarus Pit fuckery, you get zapped by a ray gun or hit wirh a spell or "resurrected wrong" and suddenly Bruce has to deal with a de-aged you, a teenager without their adult memories and aged back to before you developed your skills or your metagene that gave you your powers

And here's Batman already shoving adopted children into his pockets like breadsticks at olive garden "oh no, ANOTHER orphan/kid with a horrible childhood in need of a home? Whatever shall we do. Oh no my hand slipped and I already texted Alfred to prepare a room to stay and oh no my Waynazon shopping list is suddenly full of new furniture and gifts and clothes and i already emailed Dick and Barabaras university so you can get a better education and oh wow just what is going on this is so weird"

Alfred standing by with his dry wit whenever Reader gets hormonal or does typical teenager things "ah yes, yelling 'I hate you' and slamming doors, I definitely didn't have enough of this experience raising you, Master Wayne" but like he adores it really, we all know this man is a caretaker at heart and as someone who 'knew you before' st least through what Bruce has told him, he's happy to help give you a better life

Of course then complications arise whenever Reader gets her memory back (and potentially extremely pissed she was kept as a child and literally no attempts, none, zero, nada, zilch attempts were made to turn her back to normal) and she's like "ok well I'm mentally an adult again but I'm still in a kids body, let's try and turn me back and then I can be a real adult again" and the entire batfamily is just "OR, hear me out, OR. You could stay here though? And if you wanna be a crimefighter you should at least stay with us but like its jusr ao dangerous though what if you got hurt 🥺" IF they let you return to hero work at all but let's be real, if you did, I think Bruce would be so proud to put a little bat symbol or R or whatever on your uniform cause it's like, awwww bonding, everyone's gonna know you're his lil protege 🥰

And imagine Reader goes to confront Bruce about this whole thing and you just start bawling because "was I just such a pathetic loser before that you wanted to change everything about me" and like he did the whole thing with good intentions but, YEAH he did absolutely lie to you and kind of shape you a little for the few years you were "raised" by him and you're standing there with your new clothes and your new haircut and all the hobbies he's paid for and the education he's paid for and all the new things you've learned and can do because he had the resources to give them to you and you're wondering what was so unlikable about you before that he doesnt want you to be that person again, to be the person you've always known and lived your life as

Suffice to say he isn't going to turn you back at all and if you have to "return to your old self" by literally naturally aging back to your "original age" then so be it. You've got an entire mansion filled with your loving 'family' and you're happy and you're healthy and really, maybe you're just being anxious and scared and all it will take is time for you to adjust and see that all of them know what's best. Amd if you never do adjust and you're just kept around anyways, well, it doesn't make much of a difference to them. Hell, maybe they'll find a hero or villain or magic user who can, you know, maybe make you forget all about the life you had before, completely wipe your head until only the Wayne family, your family, is left

Really, Bruce would consider it just to hear you call him 'Dad' again

[apocalypseornaw]

Resurrect (Pt 3/4)

Benny Lafitte x reader (nicknamed Nix)

When Benny calls Dean for a favor it ends with the three of you hunting his old nest

The usual warnings, violence & cursing

Benny wasn't used to having a chance to relax, after so many years in purgatory keeping alert was second nature. There'd been more than once he would allow himself to doze off only to jolt awake looking for you. He told himself it was due simply to the familiarity of having you close at hand, he'd gotten used to looking out for you. It wasn't because he missed hearing your laugh or the way the corner of your lips would twitch when you were trying to hold back a smile. No. it wasn't that you saw him as a man not a monster or the fact that you were the one person alive that he'd allowed to know him inside and out.

When you'd offered to stay with him it'd taken every fibre of his being to turn you down. Had he wanted you at his side to face a world he hadn't been a part of in so many years? Of course. Did it bother a part of him seeing how you were supporting Dean after the spell to resurrect him had taken energy out of the other man?

Yeah, he couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy. The feeling of your lips on his cheek when you'd pressed a quick kiss there had forced his brain to imagine what it would be to truly kiss you, feel your flesh under his fingertips but you were simply his friend. True he'd gotten you out of purgatory and would've died again and again if that's what it would've taken but he knew that your world and his although existing together never could intermingle, no matter how much his thoughts were full of you. Even as you bid each other goodbye he thought of calling you back.

The phone calls helped, hearing your voice and knowing you and Dean were adjusting back. He knew he couldn't tell either of you what he was actually doing, if he told you or Dean he was hunting down his old nest there would be one of two reactions. Either you would try to talk him out of it or would drop everything to help him. He'd already lost Andrea, if the old man saw you, the way Benny looked at you would make his feelings apparent. Yeah you were a hunter and any other vamp, any other time he'd place his money on you but he couldn't chance it. That was why he hated like hell having to make a call to Dean for help but he didn't have any other choice.

After Kevin giving all of you the slip weeks had passed filled with the three of you chasing him down. You followed Dean and Sam into yet another empty hotel room "I told you both he'd given us the short end again, I mean Dean did try to gank his mom"

Sam pulled his laptop out in an attempt to start tracking Kevin again while Dean broke into the mini bar. He passed you a beer as he said "Easy Nix, I was trying to kill Crowley who just happened to be wearing Kevin's mother at the moment" "Well to Kevin there must not be that big of a difference,maybe because it's his mother!" Sam cut in and you had to stifle a laugh simply because the amount of tension that had been hanging heavily in the air between the two of them was starting to choke you at times.

Dean cut his eyes at you so you shrugged, taking a swig of the beer. Dean's phone rang so you cut your eyes at him as he answered the phone then said "Hang on, there's not enough bars" and motioned at you to follow him. Sam shot you a questioning look but you simply shrugged again then followed Dean out into the cool night air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was leaning against the trunk of the impala by the time you made it out and the first thing you heard him say was "What did you do?" you swallowed the lump in your throat at the idea of Benny falling off the wagon in a large way. You tried to listen but Dean moved not letting you get close enough to him to hear the other side of the call. Just what the hell was going on?

"I'm sorry you took on how many? What are you, crazy?" Dean asked so you shoved your way into his personal space in enough time to hear Benny on the other end of the line say "Don't tell Nix. I don't want her seeing me like this, my legs aint working too good.." You stayed quiet shooting Dean a glare that told him not to let Benny know you were listening "There's a fuel barge not too far from here..I'm pretty sure I can make it at a slow crawl..kinda hoping I could maybe ask you for one more favor?"

Dean looked you in the eyes as he said "I'll get there as fast as I can" then hung up. The moment Benny was off the line you asked what had happened. "Your guy took on five other vamps in a machete fight, he won but he's hurt so we gotta get to Eagle Harbor Washington" You were already grabbing the keys to the impala out of his jacket to take Sam his bags by the time Dean caught up to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam looked up when the two of you walked in and he realized only his bags were being dumped onto the bed "What are you...?" Dean cut him off before he could finish the question "We gotta go" "What do you mean, you gotta go?" you looked up at Sam and knew the aggravation was clear on your face, you needed to get to Benny now. "Which of the words are you having trouble with Sam?"

He looked from you to Dean "We're on the case... you know our holy grail? shutting the gates of hell?" Dean nodded "Sure are but to do that we need our prophet, so step one find Kevin Tran. Well he aint here but he wanted us to be which means we're probably as far away from him as we could get so step two find Kevin Tran" Dean nodded to you "C'mon Nix"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam followed you both into the parking lot, questioning every action of Deans and yours since you got topside. "You've both been hiding something, now this?" you felt yourself bristle at the younger winchester who'd been one of your closest friends since your teen years because Benny needed you and Dean alot worse than Sam did at the moment.

Dean saw the look in your eyes so he opened the passenger door for you and once you were inside he turned to Sam "Room's paid for, the trail is dead. Do some research, we got some personal crap to take care of that's all" Dean shut the door behind you then walked around to the driver's side. The last thing you heard him tell Sam was "We need a day, we're owed that" before shutting the driver's door and turning the key over. The engine roared to life and as Dean backed out you saw Sam shaking his head in the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Memories flashed through your mind as Dean drove, Benny saving your ass more than once..the days you managed to save him...that damn tune he always whistled as if in the middle of a fight he was having the time of his life. The thought of something happening to him, of losing him? The mere thought made your chest tighten.

You never meant to feel the way you did about Benny and knew that while he cared about you it was in an entirely different way then you cared about him. Looking back the moment you fucked up was when you stopped seeing him as a vampire that chose to help you and started seeing him as Benny.

"He's gonna be ok Nix" Dean's voice cut through the silence in the car and you gave him a weak smile "I know, just wish the stubborn ass would've called before he went after them" Dean nodded slowly "Whatever is going on, I don't think he wanted you in the crosshairs or that's the impression I got"

You half laughed "But Benny knows for a fact I'm a damn good hunter and can hold my own in a fight" Dean shrugged "Yeah but that doesn't mean he wants to face the possibility of you getting hurt because he drug you into a hunt..Nix he kept you at his side for better than a year before he knew about the escape hatch..he planned to spend the rest of his time fighting to keep you breathing if that's what it came to..."

You went quiet at the implication behind Dean's words before saying "He intervened because when he had someone worth losing no one helped her"

Dean cut his eyes at you before saying "Ok" then turned his eyes back to the road ahead.

When Dean pulled up to the harbor you were out of the impala before it stopped moving all the way. From what Dean had said Benny's blood supply was in a cooler in the old truck you'd parked next to. Dean got to your side by the time you'd cleared the front of the truck so you walked with him to the back.

He opened the camper shell and that same sense of guilt hit you when you saw the sleeping bag and duffle. Benny apparently had gotten this truck for the purpose of being able to sleep in it as well, not like you and the boys were in much better shape but that didn't mean you liked knowing it.

Dean spotted the cooler so he grabbed it, double checking to make sure it was full then he motioned for you to step back so he could close the camper. He nodded to you to follow him then headed to find the fuel barge Benny said he'd be taking shelter in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no sign of Benny at the barge but when you spotted stairs leading to a lower level you bumped Dean's arm and motioned towards it. He shrugged then said "I'm going down first in case something besides Benny is down there" you really did love the guys in your life but there were times the protectiveness got on your nerves.

You waved a hand so Dean went down first, waiting at the base of the stairs for you. You gave him a tight smile when your feet were on the floor. You and him both spotted the familiar figure sitting slumped against a wall. Dean touched your arm "Stay back a minute...please" You wanted to argue that even in his weakened state Benny could probably smell you but the pleading in Dean's eyes held you in place "Fine, go help him"

You watched Dean squatted next to Benny after calling his name twice, when Benny's head turned towards him you let out a breath that burnt. "Not looking good" Dean told him and you almost smiled when Benny chuckled "Up yours" Dean opened the cooler and grabbed a pint of blood then nodded over his shoulder at you. Benny already had the blood to his lips when you stepped into view, he cut his eyes at Dean "I told you not to tell her"

You squatted on his other side, taking the bag from his hands and holding the tube coming off of it to his lips "Argue with Dean later, drink now" you saw a weak smile pull to his face even as he took a tentative sip. You didn't flinch so he began to drink in earnest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a pint or two Dean managed to get Benny up so the two of you could move him out of the hallway. The three of you ended up in what looked like an office area with a bathroom off of it. Benny asked Dean to grab his bag out of the truck so he could get cleaned up so you sat on top of the table in the room watching as Benny drank another pint and saw his legs were already mending.

"Gonna tell me now why you didn't want me here?" you knew now probably wasn't the best time but you also wanted to know why after two years worth of fights you were all of a sudden persona non grata when it came to a fight. "I didn't want you in it Darlin, that's why I asked Dean to not tell you but should've known better" you scoffed, hopping off the table to stand in front of him where he sat in the chair Dean had helped him into "Yeah you should've. I didn't back down from fighting at your side in purgatory, why is now different?"

He looked up at you and when the light coming in from the window caught his eyes you nearly lost all train of thought, he opened his mouth to say something but about that time the door opened and Dean walked in. He looked between the two of you before asking "Am I interrupting something?" "Yes" "No" was yours and Benny's answers. Dean nodded "In that case, Benny do you need a hand to the bathroom?" Benny shook his head and managed to stand with a hand supporting his weight on the wall "I've got it chief"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Dean sat next to each other on the table, the empty blood bags were spread around it but neither of you cared. He finally asked "What did I walk in on?" You shifted around before saying "He won't tell me what happened or why he didn't want you telling me he was hurt. After all the time I spent fighting at his side, he all of a sudden doesn't trust me?" "Or he wanted you safe" Dean interjected and you rolled your eyes "C'mon Winchester, I thought I could rely on you to not go all logical on me"

He laughed "Well you and Benny both are acting like idiots, one of us has to use the collective brain cell" the bathroom door opened so you both stood up and turned around to see a healthy Benny walk out.

He was scrubbing his head with a towel and was wearing a clean off white older style henley and without thinking you whispered "Damn" he looked good, especially considering how he'd looked going in. He grinned, apparently having heard you before Dean said "Wow, you look ok" Benny nodded "Getting there" he moved to repack his duffle and it was clear he had no intention to tell you or Dean what was going on so you had to resist the urge to throw the damn cooler at him.

"Dude, you were double hamstrung" Dean pushed. Benny picked up his jacket to slip on "Yeah well a little rest, half a cooler of AB negative....most wounds short of amputation will mend up, vampirically speaking" "Uh huh" Dean replied and Benny nodded "I'll be one hundred percent before you know it" he grabbed his duffle and the cooler before holding a hand out to Dean "Thank you brother"

"Benny, what the hell is going on?" you asked and he smiled "Nix, darlin you two done saved the day and I appreciate you for it but I got my deal and you two have yours, what'd Dean call it..the family business" You and Dean exchanged a look and Benny sighed "You two and your damn loyalty" He sat the cooler down "Good to know you're still dumb as ever Dean and Nix sugar I see you're still as stubborn as a mule" You shrugged "Gotta have a hobby" then Dean asked the question you hoped Benny would answer "Why the hell you getting into machete fights with your own kind?"

Benny cut his eyes at you before saying "Quentin, the one I came for? We were in the same nest. I'm hunting the vampire who turned me, my maker" it hit you then that Dean had been right, Benny hadn't wanted you here because this same nest had killed him and Andrea.

Dean nodded "Don't get me wrong, I'm down with the hunting but why?" Benny's eyes never left you as he said "Kill him before he kills me..again"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the decision made that you and Dean were going to help Benny with the hunt, the next step was figuring out where the old man and the nest might be. Dean and Benny both figured the best chance of that was hoping Quentin had something on him that may lend a clue so you three were standing around the table in the room going through what had been in Quentin's pockets when Benny killed him.

Quentin's belongings consisted of an old pocket watch, a wallet, a stack of money in a silver clip and some matches along with a handful of receipts and a small notepad. "Quentin and I went way back, one of the old man's favorites next to me, it turns out" Benny spoke as he looked over a handful of papers you handed him.

Dean flipped open the notebook "Listen to this, Age of Aquarius two, o eight hundred and then there's some other numbers all crossed out. Some other weird names here too, The big mermaid, solitare, all crossed out" You glanced over his shoulder and pointed at the last one "That's not, the lucky myra..what are these, boats?" you looked up at Benny and he nodded "Yachts, names of yachts" Dean looked from Benny to you "So these numbers are what? Launch times?"

Benny nodded so you pointed to the other list "And these are destinations?" he nodded again "Except none of them ever get there. The lucky myra left yesterday afternoon, I guarantee you it's already been hit" "Hit?" Dean asked.

"Boarded, burned and buried at sea..." he cut his eyes towards you before adding "My nest, that's how we fed. How we always fed. We kept a tight little fleet maybe half a dozen boats. Nothing ostentatious, just pleasure crafts."

You knew the basics of his past but this was the first time he'd talked about it at length, if you ever asked he always answered any questions but avoided talking about his days with his nest. His eyes flickered towards you then back to Dean.

"I must have circled the americas ten times during my tour. A few of us would act as stringers, patrol the harbors looking for the right size target..fat rich yachts going to far off ports. Take down the boats name and destination, radio it to the crew in the water and then we just uh let the ocean swallow up our sins"

Dean looked at you with a smirk pulling to his face despite the circumstance "Vampire pirates, that's what you guys are? Vampirates" You felt your lips twitch in an effort to not laugh until Benny did then you let the laugh slip out when Benny said "You know, all the years we ran together, I can't believe no one ever thought of that?"

Dean shrugged "What do you mean? It's like the third thing you say" "No, it isn't" You and Benny spoke in unison which caused Dean to roll his eyes then tap the notebook "All right, so Benny your maker is set up to feed around here right?" Dean handed you some of the papers before asking Benny "What are we looking for?"

Benny shrugged "Well, he likes to live in style. He usually rents legitimately. Always remote, always coastal" you glanced up from the receipt you'd just unfolded "So an island maybe? We get a cable bill here, Quentin had the nfl package" You passed it to Benny "Says Prentiss Island, heard of it?" He nodded "Oh, yeah"

You sat in the backseat of the impala despite Benny offering you the front seat, listening to him and Dean talk. When Dean asked why, if Benny had been the maker's favorite why did he kill him?

Benny cut his eyes at Dean then back out the windshield "When you're turned, it's like you're reborn into a vampire nest, your maker means everything to you. I mean you really start to believe he's god" Benny looked back at you "Nix, darlin can you pass me.." he nodded towards the cooler next to you so you passed him another pint as he continued "Now, if your maker happens to believe the same thing well.."

Benny trailed off to drink from the bag and you half laughed when Dean glanced towards him "See how that could be a pickle..Do you really have to do that right now?" you shook your head "He's still on the mend Dean, if we're going into a nest don't we want the vamp on our side in top form?"

Benny smiled when you defended him then said "Anyway.. our father was a jealous god, kept the family together but kept us apart from the rest of the world, always at sea.. I always did what was best for the nest..until I met her.." "Andrea?" you asked and he nodded then cut his eyes back at Dean "Andrea Kormos..."

No, you weren't jealous listening to Benny talk about Andrea, on the flip side your heart ached for him when he spoke about their life together and how he'd lost her, his maker ripping her throat out being the last thing Benny had saw. Dean spoke up "Well that's what payback is all about, am I right?"

Benny looked back towards you before telling Dean "Docks are up ahead, should be able to find a dinghy to use"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean parked there was a matter of gathering weapons and finding the dinghy. Benny looked at you before all three of you stepped onto the small boat. You'd just handed Dean your osidian blade to add to the duffle and gave him a small smile.

Damn, it reminded him so much of the time spent in purgatory. The year after finding you he'd felt more alive than he had in half a century. You were passionate and caring, an amazing hunter and woman. He thought of the old man getting his hands on you and the rage he felt for his maker from Andrea's death doubled. He didn't want to risk losing you too so he had to make an attempt.

"If I ask you to let me and Dean handle this?" You scoffed and shook your head "Well I'd tell you to go to hell but that's not a possibility is it so how about a simple no? I'm not letting you two walk into this and sit out. You fight, I fight remember?"

He pretty much knew that was the answer he'd get. "Stick close to Dean at least?" you opened your mouth and he knew by the look in your eyes you were going to argue so he added "Nix, I know you can fight but just this once dammit listen to me" you held his gaze for a few moments before nodding "Just survive this"

You stood between Dean and Benny as Benny steered towards land. Dean moved to straddle the bow so he could secure it to one of the poles sat out for that. Benny tossed Dean the duffle once he was on land then turned to hold his hand out to you, you took it to get from the boat to land. Once you were next to Dean you rotated your neck in a tight circle, you'd seen Benny fight and this nest killed him..

Benny lead the way through the woods. You saw Dean looking at his phone and saw he was texting Sam but erased it and shoved his phone in his pocket before Benny stopped to pull your weapons out, "Remind ya of anything?" Benny asked neither of you in particular, glancing around at the woods you had to admit it did. Dean handed you your blade and you spun it around in your hand as Benny said "It's weird being back in the world I mean,isn't it?" "Sure as hell is" Dean replied and you nodded. There were days you still couldn't grip being back after just two years gone.

You fell in step between both men, used to it from your days down under. You couldn't help but look towards Benny even before he spoke "I mean, what do you do with it all? All the..all the everything..Hell I don't even know if this world is real, if I'm real" Dean cut his eyes at you before saying "Hey, listen to me, I see what happens down that rabbit hole, ok? We're real, Benny this is real. It's the only way to play this game, you get me?" Benny nodded and you found yourself wanting to reach out, grab his hand..instead you reiterated Dean's words by saying "You're real Benny..We made it.. this is real and before the night is out the old man will pay for what he did to you and Andrea"

He smiled slightly at your words then motioned with his blade "Remember the promise you made me Nix"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had to hand it to the old man, he had style. The house was gorgeous, you almost felt bad about Dean breaking the lock...almost.

Benny went in first so you followed him closely then felt Dean at your back. The three of you cleared the foyer and sitting room. You noticed Benny eyeing a small piano so Dean whispered "Time to move Benny" Benny whispered "The old man's harpsichord" so you whispered "Benny! We gotta move!" He didn't reply and Dean must have heard movement because he looked towards the upstairs then grabbed your arm, pulling you into a side hall with a hand to your mouth.

You heard a woman's voice and Benny say the name Andrea, wait she was alive? The next sound was blows being hit as Benny was knocked out. Dean groaned lightly "Fucking idiot" you knew you had to be smart, you and Dean could take the nest but Andrea being turned? That added an extra element of danger for the two of you, you trusted Benny but love made you do crazy things like maybe betraying your friends?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Dean moved silently, not wanting to stay in the place Benny had last saw the two of you as a precaution. You were moving down a hall when Dean's phone vibrated with a call and you groaned before he hit the button to silence it, at the sound of boots Dean snatched you into a side room, standing between you and the door until the boots continued down the hall.

Dean checked it was clear then called Sam back who the missed call was from "Ok, what?" "Why did you call me?" christ you hated hearing half of conversations especially in a situation like this. Dean motioned for you to move into the hall so you followed hearing him tell Sam you two were clearing a nest. When Sam hollered "WHAT? ARE YOU TWO INSANE?" Dean pulled you into his side, tucking you both against the wall. "We got someone else here"

"Who?" "A friend" "The three of us only have each other!" Sam reasoned and you nodded, he wasn't wrong. You stood watch while Dean texted Sam your location. Footsteps got closer again so Dean laid his phone down and the two of you got into position, when the vamp walked to Dean's phone and picked it up you stepped out to get his attention and Dean sliced his head off from behind.

_____

Dean's phone got smashed in the meantime and you'd left yours in the impala. Dean moved to drag the body of the first vamp out the hall and another one appeared at the end. You moved without a word to Dean, side stepping the vamp trying to grab you before driving your blade up slicing from mid chest to his neck before fully decapitating him.

When the head rolled across the floor Dean nodded approvingly "Good form" he whispered with a smirk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had to admit, fighting side by side with Dean, drawing vamps in and knocking them down...it almost made you at ease. It was a familiar dance you both had learned well. You had no clue where Benny was or what was happening but the two of you were thinning their ranks quickly.

"Dean,if he betrays us for Andrea..." You didn't have to finish your thought, Dean gave you a sharp nod "I'll take him, you take her"

With that agreement made the two of you headed back down the stairs to the first floor where the remaining three vamps of the nest and Benny was.

____________________

You two found an office with two dead vamps and one more in the hall, that left Benny and Andrea. You swallowed hard at the thought of killing him but to save yourself and to save Dean? You'd do it.

You got close to the foyer and could hear the two of them. Dean stopped you with a hand on your back as you heard Benny say "What I loved it aint here anymore..it was snuffed out a long time ago by monsters like me.. like what you've become" You heard Andrea ask if Benny thought he was better than her before he said "No, I think we're all damned"

You could sense the change in the air and Dean moved before you could, slamming his blade into Andrea's back then pulling it out to slice off her head. You stepped out in enough time to see the look on Benny's face as she fell and fuck it hurt you.

Benny was silent on the walk back to the boat, he hadn't looked your way at all. When you got to the boat him and Dean started to push it off land before Benny stopped. You glanced up as he said "Why'd you do it Dean?" you assumed he meant Andrea but Dean asked "Do what?" You noticed Benny avoided your gaze as he answered "Resurrect me. You two could've drained my soul into any culvert, and no one would've been the wiser"

"What the hell are you talking about?" you asked, purposely making Benny look at you as Dean asked "Benny, are you good?" Benny looked between you both "I don't know what I am" he went to jump into the boat but you grabbed his arm "Hey, wait a minute" you glanced at Dean and he nodded so you pulled Benny a couple steps away "Benny, look at me"

He slowly raised his eyes and you smiled sadly "I am sorry about Andrea. I can not imagine the pain you're in from losing her again but as for what you are? You're the guy who chose to save me at risk of your own hide, you're the guy who pushed me to keep moving even on my worse days, the guy who saved Dean and got both of us topside. That's who you are. You belong in this world Benny because vampire or not, you're a good man" you felt a twinge of guilt when he asked "Why did you and Dean stay back?:"

You hadn't realized he'd clocked the two of you so you asked "You knew we were there when you were talking to Andrea after killing the old man?" He nodded "Were you waiting to see what would happen? If I was going to give you two up to her?" You nodded because after everything you two had been through he was owed honesty.

"Did you really think I'd turn on you?" He asked so you shrugged one shoulder "Yeah for a moment I did but not as vampire to vampire, as a man who got the woman he loved back in front of him" he nodded then touched the loose hair around your face much the same way he had in purgatory "Thank you Nix...I just.."

You knew what he was trying to say so you smiled "If you ever need me, no matter how long it's been since we talked or how many miles are between us, I'll come to you.." you hesitated for a moment then added "Just whistle really loud" he chuckled lightly then pulled you into a hug "Sugar, you don't know just how amazing you are"

Dean called your name so Benny nodded towards the boat "Let's get going"

A silence fell among the three of you, Benny saw you and Dean exchange a few long glances but he wasn't sure what it was about, at times it was as if you two had your own language. He spotted someone standing on the dock and heard you say the name Sam, must be Dean's little brother.

----------------

You had a bad feeling the moment you saw Sam. Dean tossed him the anchor rope and you watched him tie the boat off. Dean tossed the duffle onto the dock then stepped off the boat, Benny was next off and offered you a hand. You saw the way Sam was tracking Benny's movements even as Benny smiled and offered his hand to shake "I'm Benny" Sam clasped his hand to as Benny said "Heard a lot about you Sam"

You knew the moment realization hit Sam on what Benny was, his other hand moved to unsnap the holster his machete was in. You stepped forward with intention to step between him and Benny should it come down to it but Dean simply shook his head. Sam looked from you to Dean, anger plain in his eyes. Benny dropped his hand "I see you three have a lot to talk about" He patted Dean on the shoulder and touched your back lightly then started to walk away.

You looked from brother to brother before saying "I'll be at the impala" you noticed Benny's steps slow just slightly and hoped that meant he wanted to talk to you before hitting the road, you knew you and Dean both were gonna end up fighting with Sam over him but that was a worry for a different day, you wanted to check on Benny and make sure he knew you meant it when you told him that no matter what you'd come to him if he called.

Benny heard your footsteps behind him but kept walking towards the parking lot. He needed to get back to his truck but he had a feeling you'd purposely walked away from the boys and if it was because of him he wanted to make sure he didn't just walk away from you.

The moment he knew you two were out of sight of the Winchesters he heard you say his name lightly so he turned to face you. "Were you really gonna go at it with Sam then and there?" He asked and knew the answer even before you raised an eyebrow "So now you're doubting me Lafitte?" He smiled slightly "Defending me to Dean, willing to fight Sam but thinking I'd hand you and Dean over to my old nest mates"

You glanced down at your boots, toeing a small rock over before saying "Benny, when I heard her alive, I had hoped for your sake she'd be willing to walk away from that life. Did the thought occur to me that if you decided to flip me, and Dean would've been more than screwed? Yeah but that doesn't take away from the trust I still have for you, I shouldn't have doubted you. Maybe at least now that you've put ghosts to rest you can move forward?"

Move forward to what, he wanted to ask. His goal tonight had been to wipe out everything to do with his old life, his nest mates and creator. He hadn't wanted you in the middle of it and thankfully the old man nor Andrea had ever known you were there...the thought of Andrea hurting you and him being forced to kill her? Moreso the fact that he wouldn't have hesitated to save you from her but had hesitated when she wanted to kill him.

He looked at you as you stood there, fidgeting with your fingernails. You'd explained in purgatory it was a a nervous habit, something to help you get out of your own mind. The layers that were you as a person never ceased to amaze him. There were times he'd seen you as nothing short of dangerous in a fight, slicing through the inhabitants of purgatory like it was nothing then there were times he'd seen you nearly cry because you missed those you considered family.

He reached out and grabbed your hands, stopping the repetitive movement "Nix, I'm ok darlin...really" you cut your eyes up at him and for the life of him he didn't know how someone like you could look at someone like him so gently "You loved her Benny. It's ok to not be ok" He smiled slightly "I did love her but not the her that died tonight. My Andrea died a long time ago. Also just so you know if it would've come to it I never would've let her hurt you"

__________

You knew he was telling you the truth looking into his eyes. He would've fought the woman he'd mourned for fifty years for you. "Benny..." you wanted to demand to go with him, to ensure he got used to the world as it was and that he wouldn't let himself be swallowed by his own personal demons like so many others but you were cut off by Dean hollering "NIX! WE GOTTA GO"

You looked over your shoulder to see Dean looking around for you. When you looked back at Benny he smiled "Go on sweetheart. He needs you to referee him and Sam"

You shook your head "I think you need someone worse than Dean and Sam does" he leaned down closer to you and for a moment you thought he may kiss you but his lips pressed to your cheek in a chaste kiss "I'll stay in touch, like always and if you get tired of the boys call me and we'll catch up with each other but for now I just need to be on my own. After all you as a hunter can't always be babysitting a vampire"

You closed your eyes and swallowed hard, fuck when did he start having an effect on you and why were you letting it show now? You opened your eyes and smiled at him "I'll see you soon, ok?" He nodded "I know you will"

__________

"Over here, brother" Benny called out barely having to raise his voice for Dean to hear him. Dean looked up and walked over, he touched your back as soon as he got close enough "I may end up kicking Sammy's ass before its said and done" Benny chuckled "I just told Nix to try to keep that from happening"

Him and Dean hugged then he winked at you "Keep your phone close darlin. You know I hate leaving messages" you watched him walk away before Dean tapped your back "Or are you gonna swing on Sammy and I'm gonna have to stop it?" The moment Dean said that Sam came into view, anger still rolling off of him in waves "It's up for debate"

@123passwort @valeks-star

[judas-is-so-so-silly]

This is my addition to the @petrifyingpapas creative challenge :)

This weeks theme was resurrection and im super excited to particpate in the coming weeks :)

Being sneaky in a Satanic Ministry was odd, Copia thought to himself, instead of sneaking around in the dead of night and stalking the library for secret books he found himself going through his dead brother's diary at 11 am on a Tuesday.

“Why did this stupido idiota write all of his notes in a notebook for little girls?” Papa spat into the furry pink diary. He turned it over in his hands, searching for some sort of sigil or spell to show him Secondo was using the journal's cover as, well cover. But he found nothing. Copia was beginning to feel hopeless when a punctual knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Si accomodi!” He shouted as he threw the frilly thing into the trash. When Sister Imperator poked her head into her son's office his heart nearly stopped and as she rushed in, placing herself in the armchair across from Copia.

“C,” she mused, “I trust that you’ve been handling the last tour's finances just fine?” Copia straightened in his plush chair and cleared his throat,

“Of course Seestor, what else would I be doing?”

The graying woman massaged the bridge of her nose and sighed, gesturing to the stack of paperwork on his desk, on the floor, and every other surface in her son's spacious office. She gave C another look, up and down and the slow blink of I know you’re full of shit.

“Just making sure you weren’t dicking off, like with your,” she finger quoted, “receipts”.

Copia huffed, “Mammina I’m doing my things, leave me be!” He attempted to shoo her with a flippant wave of his hand before turning his faux attention to focus on a paper. He scanned over it with a sigh.

To his dismay, Sister stayed planted with her arms crossed and an expectant glare on her face. C resigned to signing the paper, flipping it over, signing it again, and putting it in a stack. He worked his way through the piles on his desk for hours while Sister tidied his office, she even put on a record when she realized her boy was humming a tune. And by the time she kissed him good night and he shooed her away, Copias entire desk was clear. He leapt up from his seat and looked up and down the moonlit hallway to make sure Sister was gone before he turned his attention back to the journal. The now glowing journal lit up the bin a deep green.

He kicked the trash bin over and the diary toppled to the floor, the rich, emerald green glow now spilled across the floor. C perched himself in his chair and gazed down at the thing, asking himself why it would be glowing. Maybe I should have cleaned that spilled juice better.

The notebook violently flipped itself open before squawking: “C! Copia! Merda di ratto per il cervello!” In a voice that sounded horribly similar to the second Papa Emeritus

Copia crawled down off his chair and onto the paper littered floor,

“Fratello?” C poked at the notebooks fuzzy exterior with a gloved hand, “The fuck are you doing in a notebook?”

The journal sighed, “I’m not in a notebook stupido.”

“Well where are you? You’re talking through a girly little diary for Satana’s sake!” Copia gasped, “Are you in virile inferno?” C giggled to himself at the memory of Secundo lifting weights saying he wouldn’t be a withered old man like pops.

“Il cazzo? No,” the notebook, Secondo, tutted at his little brother, “I don’t fucking know WHERE I am! And why in all of Santana's scorched plains are you going through my shit.”

Copia swallowed, “well it doesn’t matter, you’re here! Talking to me!” He scooped the notebook up with a giggle, “And now you can help me figure out why you’re dead!”

Secondo sighed and Copia swore he could feel his brothers breath, “You fucking idiot, that’s what you’ve been doing? You ascend to Papacy and you’re playing ministry Clue?” Secondo laughed, “Is Seestor that maid, Mrs White?”

“Stai zitto!” C shouted as the notebook heaved with laughter, “She would be Ms. Scarlet!”

The notebook continued to cackle, “You’re such a mommas boy! HA!”

C sighed and lounged on his office floor as he asked the notebook about hell, the afterlife, his death, and how in the world to run a Clergy full of unruly satanists with his mother breathing down his neck. Secondo answered each question in a reluctant tone but his little brother could tell he was enjoying talking to him. When C finally fell asleep, Secondo stayed. He stayed until Imperator heard him calling C awake. He even stayed when she snatched him off the floor and tossed him back into his old office. He stayed for his fratello, knowing he still had questions. And Terzo wouldn’t stop complaining that he hadn’t had a turn, so they definitely needed to find their way back to C.

Translations: (taken from google translate I’m sorry if they aren’t right)

“Stupido Idiota” - Stupid Idiot

“Si accomodi” - Come in

“Mammina” - Mommy

“Merda di ratto per il cervello!” - Rat shit for brains

“Fratello” - Brother

“Virile Inferno” - Manly hell

“Il cazzo” - The fuck

“Stai zitto” - shut up

[nucipheram]

I need help finding two different fics

They've been bouncing around in my head for awhile and neither casual or frenzied searching procures them so here I am now

Both are Batman fics on ao3, first one is Tim-centric. He's going through a major depressive episode, the cause of which isn't revealed. His apartment is haunted by Jason who tries to get Tim back on his feet. He does small ghost things like stacking all of Tim's dirty dishes in the sink, shifting Tim's prescription bottle, and writing in the foggy bathroom mirror. All of Jason's attempts are ignored. The pivotal moment was when he jingles Tim's keys by his front door in an attempt to get him to go outside and Tim finally snaps. Has a mini breakdown and at the end of it declares that he wants to get better, that he's gonna start trying to get better, and then he stands up and leaves his apartment for the first time in the whole fic. I remember a description of the smell of cigarette smoke and leather when Jason is supposedly nearby. Maybe he spelled his name out with the kitchen magnets but I could be misremebering that.

The second is Jason-centric, he's in another country with the Outlaws and they're fighting a losing battle. Jason gets impaled (with a sword?), makes quick work of his current enemy, and basically crawls away to die. The battle is raging on but there's nothing he can do to help anymore, so he calls Bruce in his final moments. It was very touching, I think he asked Bruce to not resurrect him, to let him rest in peace. Eventually, he falls unconscious but he can hear Bruce on the other end freaking out. Turns out Bruce called Clark to save Jason and the Outlaws. Clark picks him up and kisses his forehead, saying "From your dad" and flys Jason to the hospital. Jason survives and comes to with Bruce waiting by his bedside.

Any assistance would be greatly appreciated 🙏

Thanks for reading this far 💕

[tragedicn]

he blinks, slowly turns around the face rosalyne with another blink. then he tilts his head as if he doesn't understand the language she's speaking. a moment passes, then another, and then he smiles almost mischievously, waving his hand as if to try and shoo away her question with it as he responds. "patience, dearest rosalyne. one could think you're one of those impatient younglings when you ask like that." he teases, even if she didn't sound exactly like that. in fact she's simply asked like any normal person would have. and then he's simply taking her hand and guiding her through the woods again; were it not for the torches in the area and the obviously hand carved tunnel they probably would not have been that well sheltered from the winds and snow outside. and yet, with a bit of use from his vision these intricately designed walls of snow radiate neither coldness nor do they melt even with the torches mounted on them.

and then they stand in front of doors made of dark oak; artyom clears his throat, suddenly seeming a bit unsure with the way he grounds his foot against the ground, glancing off as if hes avoiding the harbingers gaze. "ahem. you might find this silly, however with the way life has turned out i thought maybe it'd be nice to... erm... have a new- nice- a, ahem, place to return to after a long day." he elaborates, inhaling and opening the doors as if they will help him save face. they don't, but they do reveal a carefully crafted wooden interior to what seems like a large house, perhaps even a mansion. there's a single panel in the middle of a wall with colorful drawings and poorer attempts at carving and whittling on it that reveal that perhaps this place was made by not only artyom but some help he enlisted. and obviously feliks, given that that panel practically spells his name.

artyom let's out his held breath in surprise when something jumps into his arm; a cat with white fur and blue eyes, or well, eye, given that the other one is covered with a makeshift eye patch to cover the presumably missing eye. carefully cradling the cat in his arms he turns to face the woman, smiling calmly. "once again, you might think it's silly. but after all you've endured ... after all we've endured, i think we deserve peace. don't you?" when a paw pushes against his cheek as if the cat is trying to get his attention before it looks at rosalyne he gives a soft smile, voice turning fond. "this little troublemaker is rosemary; if you're not a fan of cats she can go to stay with feliks." he continues, showing off the cat as it purrs while jumping off his arm to rub against rosalynes legs, promoting a soft chuckle from the domovoy.

            she's still recovering from everything . . . her mind and body still reeling from the events that unfolded  .  she's died twice now . . . neither experience had been easy  .  retirement is certainly something that's been suggested  ,  even by the archon herself  ;  but  ,  rosalyne struggled with the idea of having such IDLE time on hand  .  of course  ,  she could spend leisure time with her former colleagues  ,  though she knows they'd be far busy trying to maintaining the status quo  . 

            truth be told  ,  she's been feeling rather LOST in purpose  .  she's managed to make it home using the last of her powers and consciousness  ,  for the sake of HIM  .  to uphold a promise she made  ,  and in truth  ,  that had been enough for her  .  to be resurrected into another body  ,  rosalyne swam between being lost and having purpose . . . she's still weak from the entire process and she's spent the entire time pondering WHY she had clung to life  .  why her consciousness cried out for another chance . . . despite her fatigue  ,  she wanted to live again  .

            deep down  ,  she knew  .  for him  .  she willingly  D I E D  the first time to avenge rostam . . . perhaps  ,  this time  ,  she wanted to live for  A R T Y O M  .  

            she had felt like artyom had been avoiding her for a while  ,  only spending a little bit of time with her in a day  ;  then disappearing to doing who knows what  ,  he's never found in his office whenever she wanders into the familiar space  .  maybe today  ,  she'll get the answer she's waiting for . . . an explanation for his aversion of her  .  displeasure swims in her features when he declines to answer where he was taking her  ,  a huff of annoyance falling from pursed lips when he teases her for her impatience  .  ❝  it would not be so  ,  if you would be more straight with me  ,  ❞  the witch scoffs  .  

            despite her irate words  ,  her hand held in his own  -- albeit cold and lacking human warmth  ,  rosalyne always enjoyed their minute moments of intimacy  --  as he guided her through the cold snezhnaya winter  .  a tunnel  ??  certainly not a natural looking one  ,  and she senses bits of magic and something in the air . . . looking around curiously  ,  annoyance now faded  ,  she allows artyom to guide her along while she observed  ,  only watching where she stepped lest she wanted a face full of snowy dirt  .

            their pause at a door has surprise come to rosalyne's face  ,  turning to look at artyom once he begins to speak  .  ❝  you built this  ??  ❞  rosalyne asks  ,  wonder in her tone  .  it's a secluded space  ,  but not too far from the palace . . . but not too close so that they're bothered when they wished to be away from others  .  ❝  how long . . . why  ??  ❞  rosalyne asks  ,  stepping through the threshold  .  it's certainly much BIGGER than she imagined . . . how long did it take artyom to build this entire thing  ??  eyes falling upon the rather rustic panel  ,  a soft chuckle falling from her lips . . . yes  ,  indeed it seems artyom had some help  .

            she stands in the midst of the foyer  ,  eyes sparkling in amazement as she takes in the place  .  A HOME  .  she's never had one  .  not since she burned hers down centuries ago  ,  she's lived her entire life in the palace  ,  existing alongside the other harbingers and fatui soldiers  .  her attention is taken from her observation when she's STARTLED by something that darts across the room to greet artyom  .  

            there's something so right just seeing artyom stand within the room  ,  holding the feline  .  something so . . . GOOD  .  a soft chuckle falls from her lips  ,  ❝  oh  ,  artyom . . .  ❞  she murmurs  ,  softness and tenderness in her tone  .  she's stopped  ,  foiled by the feline when rosemary comes close  .  instead of approaching further  ,  she crouches and offers a hand to the cat . . . the touch cautious and careful  ,  animals never really liked her  (  albeit  ,  she assumed it was because she wasn't quite HUMAN to begin with  )  and yet  ,  rosemary doesn't shy from her  .  a pleasant surprise as she runs her hand through the cat's soft fur  .

            standing from her spot  ,  she makes her way to artyom  ,  ❝  the peace you deserve  ,  ❞  she breathes  ,  hand moving to cradle artyom's cool cheeks  ,  ❝  the peace we deserve . . .  ❞  she mumbles  ,  it's been so long  .  they've seen so many harbingers come and go . . . the two of them being the only remaining original members of the group  .  is it finally time to let go and say goodbye to such a life  ??  perhaps  .  a gentle guidance of her hands has artyom lean down  ,  forehead against forehead  ,  nose bumping into nose . . . sparkling eyes meeting uncertain gaze  ,  rosalyne's lips are in a small smile  ,  ❝  oh  ,  artyom . . .  ❞  she repeats  ,  ❝  is this what you've been up to  ??  i felt abandoned by you the past while . . .  ❞  she admits  . 

            pulling away for a brief second  ,  her eyes scans over the front door and the surrounding area  ,  ❝  our home . . .  ❞  rosalyne mumbles  ,  a soft sigh of contentment . . . a new chapter to her life  .  perhaps  ,  she can finally allow herself some happiness  .  ❝  do say that you do not intend to just leave me to my devices here . . . i think i may just go mad alone  .  ❞  rosalyne says  ,  realizing that there's a chance that the domovoy built this for her solely to use  ,  ❝  repeat after me  ,  OUR home  ,  ❞  she insists  ,  stubbornness echoing in her tone  ,  refusing to enjoy this peace by herself  .

[imxthexhandler]

In the name of the Moon

(A random thing for @koiwrites that turned out so much longer than I planned it to!)

Amelia pouted, staring at her computer screen, sighing heavily in vexation. Of all the damned luck… Her character died last session, and given the limited funds of the party, it was very doubtful a resurrection would be doable. Damn. She really liked her paladin, she spent so much time crafting her backstory and everything. It wasn’t her DM’s fault; she was fair. It was just the roll of the dice as it went.

She worked with the DM, trying to craft a new character to be at level five like the others. She just…was stuck on what actually to make. In light of the last battle, she was considering a cleric. She just…still was drawing a blank. And with D&D to start in a couple of hours at the game shop, she really did not have the time to dawdle.

She finished her iced coffee (well, it was generous to call it an iced coffee anymore, since the ice had long melted) before biting the bullet, selecting the race as half-elf and the name of Celeste as a Cleric level five, Light domain. Okay, there. It was done, finally. She could come up with the details later when she actually got to the session.

She settled her nerves by watching a couple of short cooking videos before she packed up and left the campus library, making it to the shop ten minutes before the session was going to start.

“Hi, Uncle Stan!” Amelia chimed happily, greeting the store owner as she stepped inside.

“Hey, kid,” the elder gentleman greeted with a friendly smile and a wave. His sunglasses, so shiny as usual that it shone her reflection clearly. “May all your rolls be crits!” he cheered her before.

“Thank you!” she chimed, heading towards the back where the gaming tables were already set up. Tonight, she was the last player at their table to arrive, but at least she was still there on time. “Hey, guys,” she greeted the Dungeon Master and their other four players, taking the one empty seat, in between the Dungeon Master, Mary, and Peter, another nerdy college student like Amelia.

“Alright, well, I know it’s a little early, but we can go ahead and start if everyone is ready?” Mary offered, looking over her players. There was no objection, and she smirked faintly. “Time to play. Now, picking up where we left off…”

Forty minutes into the gaming session, Amelia’s character made her entrance to help defend the party against the cultist necromancer.

“Amelia, if you would please describe your character for the table,” Mary requested.

Inwardly, Amelia panicked. Even though, yes, she knew this was coming, she still hadn’t come up with any solid ideas. “Um, well…” She nervously bit her bottom lip, when she saw a wall scroll on display—with Sailor Moon. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Okay, so, out of the dust, she comes out, her long, silvery hair blowing in the wind behind her, her scale mail armor shimmering like a beacon of hope. Staring down the necromancer, she points at him with her mace and declares, ‘I am Celeste, devout acolyte of Selûne, the Moonmaiden! Stand down, or you shall be punished for your crimes’!”

There was a small pause before another player, named Eve, asked, “Did you just base your Cleric off Sailor Moon?”

Amelia realized how it did sound, and her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe?” she squeaked. The table erupted with good-natured laughter. Once it died down, Mary had Amelia roll for initiative.

Combat continued on for another forty-five minutes, and it got a bit dicey as Amelia nearly lost her second player character when the necromancer attempted to cast Disintegrate on Celeste, only for a Counter Spell from Peter’s character to save the day.

Caught in the moment of the roller coaster of emotions, Amelia turned and hugged Peter tightly, her eyes almost welling up with relieved, happy tears, thanking him repeatedly before she accidentally kissed his hair. Her cheeks heated up with a blush as she realized what she did but hoping that Peter, somehow, didn’t feel it, the college student pulled back and laughed nervously. “Oh, thank God, thanks, man. I didn’t want to make another character!” Amelia remarked then sighed heavily with relief as she leaned back into her seat, looking over the battlefield.

In the end, Amelia was the one to strike the final blow against their enemy, rolling a crit on her Guiding Bolt.

“And as you call down your last bolt, strengthened by your faith, the entire frame of the necromancer seems to flash silver and white, their skeleton briefly lighting up before—poof! He crumbles into a pile of grey ash, discarded and blowing in the wind,” Mary dramatically narrated. Since it was at a good stopping point, and finals were about this week for many college students, the decision was made to end the session there. The redheaded DM wished her players luck with their finals and packed up before heading off to go relax before her shift began at a local bar. “See you all again next week!” she chimed, waving them goodbye.

[saphirered]

We've all seen fics where Caleb's SO dies and gets resurrected, and we seen Caleb accidentally hurting his SO, but what about Caleb accidentially killing his SO? Maybe Reader got burned by one of his fire attacks? The revival's successful, but damn, the angst.

Angst was requested and angst you shall receive. I hope this is to your liking. 😘

Trigger warning for death and grief themes.

Caleb sits on his knees, head bowed, whispering pleas in Zemnian to the gods, the world, to you, your cold hand encased between his own, occasionally pressing a kiss to it in the hopes you’d just wake up. But you’re not going to wake up. Not in the way you would in the morning when you’ve had a particularly late night and Caleb has to drag you out of bed, you being stubborn or pretending to still be asleep so you maybe could convince him to join you for a little more. Not in the way after you got knocked out in a fight, when you sit up and rub your eyes with a grunt like usual. Nothing within his capabilities will wake you up.

So here Caleb sits, begging for it to be a nightmare, some sick and twisted tricks played on his mind but there’s no denying this is real and this is the truth. You’re dead. You’re dead and it’s his fault. You ended up as collateral damage in his reckless attempt to kill the creature. You got stuck in the crossfire of that. He hadn’t realised you were doing so bad already, you even sent him a wink right before when he asked if you were okay. Why did you? Why didn’t you just tell him you weren’t? Why did you lie? Not lie, omitted the truth.

He knew exactly why you did it but that doesn’t make it any easier. You’d known the other’s weren’t doing great and barely holding on already. You were severely outmatched and couldn’t get away from the creature. Not without it chasing after you and running you in an even more perilous situation. Anything Caleb could do would affect anyone close to the creature. With Yasha having dragged Beau out of the fray you were the only one left to hold it at bay while the clerics worked on patching them up, Fjord and Veth offering them cover. You were the final line of defence. At the end of the day you had to keep the clerics alive.

Caleb took a calculated risk. A fireball to send the creature dropping into the ruined depths of Aeor. He had tried to keep you out of the range but wouldn’t have been able to strike the creature without putting you at risk. The spell worked and the creature got hit with full force. It was your attack right before the fireball struck that had send it stumbling, then with the blast, it lost its footing and stumbled off the edge.

But you too, dropped. and when you did, the creature’s tail lashed out, grabbing onto your body, dragging you with it. The creature had hit the platform below in its fall and the impact had made it release you, saving you from the full drop. Caleb had rushed to the edge, fear, pain, anger and guilt riddling his mind thinking he had truly lost you but there you were, bloodied, bruised, broken and burned. Because of him. All because of him. How could he have been so stupid and reckless. When he brought your body back to the others, he wasn’t quick enough. You’d already faded into the cold embrace of the Raven Queen and the clerics had expended their last resources.

So that leaves Caleb here, sitting at your side a day after you died, body preserved by the graces of Caduceus and the Wildmother. The clerics set up their ritual, working around him and you as the others help where they can. Beau and Veth had tried to console him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and if he hadn’t they might all have been dead right now. He appreciates his friends trying but it’s of no use. He already made up his mind and it’s not going to change anything. You died because of him. He murdered you and how is that any different than his actions in the past? How does that make him any different than the lives he’s taken in the clutches of his former mentor? Is there truly no redemption for him? You’d slap him for even thinking that way.

“Mr. Caleb? Why don’t you try talking to them? Persuasion has worked in the past to coax someone back.” Caduceus places a hand on the wizard’s shoulder but it barely registers. Yet the firbolg knows they did not fall upon deaf ears when the whispers stop for just a moment.

“I-. I do not think they’d want to hear from their murderer.” Speaking the words make them so much more painful. By the looks of it, Beau is ready to unleash in a degrading rant about how wrong Caleb is, breaking him apart only build him back up but she’s held at bay by Yasha. This is not the time and place. Caduceus doesn’t claim to know what Caleb’s going through, nor may he be the brightest mind here but he understands and can empathise.

“I know no matter what I say it won’t change your feelings so instead I will offer you this. You owe it to them to try. Not for what happened here but for the countless times they’ve been there for you, have had your back, and for the unconditional love they’ve given you. You owe them to try.” The wizard looks up over his shoulder to the firbolg, pain in his eyes, and the trails of silent tears that have long since run out. Caduceus is right. He owes it to you to save you and right now it is within his power to try. If he doesn’t, if he fails he’ll have condemned you to this fate. If he succeeds with this part, he’ll be able to look into your eyes again. You may never forgive him but he hopes to see you smile, hear your voice even if just once more.

Caleb nods looking back at you, bringing your limp fingers up to his lips and pressing them against your knuckles. He takes in a deep breath and tries to find the right words as Caduceus steps back. What are the right words? He cannot afford to fuck this up. He cannot afford to fail. He must succeed. He must.

“I know I might be the last person you want to hear right now. I want you to know I’m sorry-“ Caleb’s voice cracks as he feels the eyes of the others on him. He brushes some of your hair away from your forehead, running his thumb across your cheek.

“I don’t-uh. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I can do this. You’re always here for me during difficult times. You’d put your hand on my cheek and tell me ‘If anyone can do it it’s you, Caleb Widogast. You could move mountains if you set your will to it. Now stop being stubborn before I slap some sense in you.’ but now you’re not here to tell me that. You’ve shown me there’s a world beyond the walls I put up, that there is a light at the end of that tunnel, but now I cannot help but feel the world has grown dull, the walls are caving in, and that light is fading.”

“I have no right, no right to ask you this, but I need you to save my world one more time. So please, I beg of you. Do not leave me to brave this world without you.” The weight of his heart heavy on his conscious. Caleb feels a pressure causing a ringing in his ears. He’s so focussed on you, he cannot take his eyes off you. Not even when the others do their part in the ritual. He realises this pressure is coming from the effects of the spell to bring you back. He holds his breath, not daring to take in oxygen if only to savour the moment, hoping it will not pass, that for just a little longer he can hold on to the hope you’re coming back instead of having that hope crushed by a potential failure.

The pressure fades but nothing happens. Nothing changes. It’s silent as everyone waits for something, anything to happen. That moment alone feels like an eternity of suspense. Caleb finds himself whispering prayers and pleas in Zemnian again, your hand clasped between his own as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly to live through the memories of you, preserve them for the rest of his life just in case because he refuses to forget even a single one of them. He’s so consumed in his own mind he doesn’t notice warmth returning to your fingers. He doesn’t notice your chest beginning to rise and fall. Caleb’s pleas continue.

“Would you mind translating that? I think my brain got a bit scrambled.” Caleb freezes and his eyes open. Your eyes are closed but your brow is furrowed. Furrowed in discomfort. Not sleeping and not void of your usual expressions. Colour has returned to your limbs and face and no longer dulled. Caleb falls silent in disbelief, frozen in place and mind blank.

“Caleb?” You speak his name, peaking through one eye to see the wizard in his disheveled state. You sit up, grunting in pain. Apparently being brought back from the dead isn’t kind on your physical form, not even mentioning the exhaustion weighing on your mind. You could sleep for a couple of hours… or days… or weeks… You could do with a break really. All of you could. You nudge Caleb’s head up by his chin allowing your fingers to slide onto his cheek.

“Blink twice if you need me to get Beauregard to slap you back into reality.” You muster a smile as you brush your thumb over his cheekbone. Caleb doesn’t understand how you’re not recoiling in disgust or lashing back in anger. He doesn’t understand how you can look at him with love and kindness.

“I’m so sorry. Please-“ Caleb goes off in a spur of apologies, begging for your forgiveness.

“Caleb, I love you but you really need to stop. This is a problem for another day.”

“You died. I killed you. How can you even look at me like you do?”

“So what? I died. I’m here now. I got better. Now preferably I’d like to not die again, some things are beyond our control. And if you need some kind of reassurance; Veth killed Cad that one time and he doesn’t hate her.” Veth yells a ‘hey’ in defence while you earn a chuckle from the firbolg. You know Caleb isn’t just going to take your word for it and you’re also not going to make anyone buy you’re totally okay with just dying and being brought back to life because you’re not but you also know that you can’t blame Caleb for being a factor in what happened when you yourself were aware of the risks of the situation you were in. You made your own bet and it didn’t pay off but all your friends are still alive and well, Caleb’s still alive and well and that alone makes it worth the risk you took.

“You have no idea how much I love you.” Caleb breathes as he pulls you into his arms with a gentleness as if you’re made of porcelain, or will fade out of existence if he holds on too tightly.

“I think I have a pretty good estimate but we can compare notes later if you’d prefer.” You pull back enough to look at Caleb’s face, brush aside some of the red strands and softly place your lips on his. It’s not a heated kiss but one filled with emotion and a desperation no less. Neither of you thought you’d get to be in each other’s arms again but here you are despite everything. Maybe your work here isn’t done yet. You still got some asses to kick.

[hopeymchope]

I prefer the clone theory — that the V3 cast actually were like what we saw on the monitors, but were then cloned and the clones took part in the killing game. Like Monokuma was genuinely serious about that resurrection spell, a lot more than he should have been, and Tsumugi seemed fully prepared to present Kaede’s ‘twin’ as the mastermind before being forced to improvise. It would also fit with what Shuichi said at the end about who they were before being a lie while at the same time being true (and of Keebo also being an artificial being, and this being the future). I always pictured it as if there were a V4 sequel, it would essentially be a clone rebellion thing, like Blade Runner and it’s replicants, have Shuichi and Co. inspire a revolution, upending world society. Ultimately becoming a real and noble version of what Junko Enoshima was meant to be in the narrative of Danganronpa in terms of what she actually did — tear world society to the ground in despair, resulting in something new and good, no hope about it — facts. A completion of the narrative, full circle.

I don't think there's a lot of support for this idea in the existing canon, but I mean, you're welcome to have your own headcanons, of course.

This isn't for me, personally. I mean, I think the fact that they were kidnapped and forced into this killing game (and therefore the audition videos are phony) is pretty much an absolute lock at this point. Kodaka tweeted that we should, after finishing V3, go back and review the prologue to find any inconsistencies. And you can quickly see that their memories of being abducted against their will are right there. They obviously show no sign of being pleased about being on the show (despite what Tsumugi shows them in Chapter 6 - another inconsistency with reality), either. And there's other stuff like that. Plus I think there's reason to believe the 'Ultimate' talents are based in real talents they had.

That's an interesting point about how we're in a more futuristic world in V3 than we've seen in the other games. That is, assuming you don't think it might be virtual reality again — I know that's another popular headcanon for many, and I can see where people would get that impression. But if you think it's reality, then the Keebo and the nano-kumas and the ability for them to create a fake "outside" atmosphere where people can't breathe, and maybe even the Exisals?... those would all be beyond what we've seen in the franchise before now, for sure. And yet... that could all just be symptomatic of the fact that we're in a different universe now. Maybe it's not the "future" so much as it's just how the world of V3 has always been?

But that last part... I'm not sure how I take that. I get what you're saying about how V3's outside world — if it's indeed true that a significant portion of the population is totally fine with watching real people die on camera — probably needs a major overhaul. But there's still a lot of wiggle room on how many people are really watching "Danganronpa" the show, how they're accessing it, how much they believe in the "reality" of it, and so on. We don't know a lot about the outside world beyond the Ultimate Academy's dome, so I mean, do we feel like it definitely needs to be burn downed in despair? And why would building something "new and good" have "no hope about it"?

I think V3 makes it clear that it wants to move away from Hope/Despair despite the fan expectations that that's just what Danganronpa HAS to be. But it also gives so much lip service to the old Hope/Despair dichotomy for the last two chapters that it's hard to say it totally succeeds at the attempt to grow beyond it. I think it's mostly about a new Truth/Lies conflict, sure, but they don't exactly manage to cut off the vestigial tail of the Hope/Despair conflict from the Hope's Peak Saga. They're too aware that it's an expectation/demand from the audience by then (which the game even comments on).

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH54

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 54: Purgatory Reunion (VI)

At this moment, the world was silent.

Qi Leren stood on a black rock in the middle of the lake of fire, staring at Ning Zhou, who had become a dragon. The dragon also stared at him. The slender and horrible vertical pupils of cold-blooded animals showed the gentleness of recognition.

The fire and rain falling from the sky stopped, and the magma erupting angrily because of the force of destruction also stopped. This dark underground world was immersed in the warm sunshine pouring in from the gap and the holy light from the Prophet's Heart.

For a moment, Qi Leren couldn't say anything, because there were too many words choked in his throat. When he opened his mouth, the words that could be said and could not be said were about to slip away before his eyes.

He held out his hand and wanted to touch the dragon that he was so close to. Even in purgatory, its head was head high rather, not low. But the dragon in front of him gently lowered its head and stopped in front of his eyes.

Qi Leren stroked the dragon’s cold scales, and then hugged him. He didn't even dare to put pressure into it. He just put his face on the cold dragon scales and choked:

"Ning Zhou, I’m back."

This sentence was like a spell. Qi Leren’s tears that had been building finally flowed down. These tears were full of love and joy. He was thankful that he wasn’t too late, and that the tragedy in his nightmares hadn’t taken place. He finally came to Ning Zhou before everything was irreversible.

As long as Ning Zhou was still alive, there was still hope for everything.

It was also with this sentence that the dragon standing in the lake of fire slowly changed back to its human form—a thin, gaunt, but still alive Ning Zhou. When he stared at him with his blue eyes that held too much emotion, Qi Leren suddenly felt that Ning Zhou knew everything, and he understood everything.

Whether it was misunderstanding, deep guilt, or love, when they met again in this hot lake, a pair of loving souls embraced everything.

　　&&&

"Is this who you were talking about, His Majesty's dead lover?" The Witch of Nothingness turned her head. Although she never opened her eyes, she "stared" at the Devil of Evil, waiting for his answer.

All the demons sitting around the long table looked at him. This oppressive gaze made the Devil of Evil feel pressured. He spread his hands: "According to intelligence, he is indeed dead, but the truth of the matter doesn’t seem so simple. I’m afraid even our Majesty thinks he’s dead."

"Whose side is he from?" The Witch of Desperation only cared about this problem.

"The Holy See?" the Witch of Resentment murmured, staring at Qi Leren who was shrouded by the power of a holy angel.

"No, the intelligence said that he’s a foreigner. He came here from another world, and he had no faith. However, his strength is biased towards the Holy See. Which master in their camp gave him an item to borrow strength?" the Devil of Evil mused.

The Witch of Desperation waved her hand, and the magic mirror’s perspective pulled away, overlooking the lake of fire from a distance. The paradise reflected in the holy light covering the sky had the divine beauty of dusk, just as it had been repeatedly described in the Canon, the home of God.

"It’s the Village of Dusk’s Prophet!" The Witch of Nothingness recognized the characteristics of this miracle and revealed it in the same breath.

"It seems that His Majesty's little lover is a man favored by the Prophet. If he doesn't know what his original strength is, he’ll never become a 'guardian' like Maria, right?" The Devil of Evil touched his chin and showed innocent cruelty in his eyes. "Oh, I don't want to see the tragedy of that year repeat itself."

The Witch of Desperation looked at the magic mirror silently and said after a long time, "It's a pity... It’s almost too similar."

The Witch of Nothingness comforted: "There’s no rush for a while."

"Haha, aren't you going to rush out and stop them now? Even if you say yes, I won't go, I still want to keep this life for a long time." The Devil of Evil put his hands behind his head and leaned lazily against the back of the chair.

"Wait and see. It's not time for us to show up yet," said the Witch of Desperation, drawing a pause symbol on the attempted operation.

　　&&&

The two people didn't go far. Ning Zhou was tired when Qi Leren found him, as if he hadn't slept for several days, and he forced him to have a rest. They settled down in a secret cave not too far from the lake of fire, and Ning Zhou set up a barrier to prevent harassment from lower demons.

There were fluorescent fungi and luminous moths like butterflies in this cave, and Qi Leren took out a lantern to make the dim light illuminate their surroundings.

Qi Leren leaned against the cave wall, and Ning Zhou rested on his leg, his body covered with a blanket.

The warm light of the lantern allowed the two exhausted people to briefly escape from this Nightmare World and take a nap in a pure peaceful land. The scarred soul wrapped in its scarred body finally found rest here.

Ning Zhou quietly looked at Qi Leren, but he couldn't close his eyes for even a moment until Qi Leren secretly hooked his hand under the blanket, and their two hands clasped each other. Then, his nervous look eased slightly.

"Can't sleep?" Qi Leren asked softly.

Ning Zhou shook his head gently, holding Qi Leren's hand tightly, as if when he let go, the warmth in his hand would slip away quietly.

"Then let's talk for a while?" Their old estrangement had long since disappeared. At this time, Qi Leren simply had endless questions and endless words. He was curious about everything about Ning Zhou, his childhood, his past, his mood, and he also had a lot of things to tell him, such as how worried he was... He can talk about forever on his own.

Qi Leren couldn't help but talk about it. From the beginning when he had found love at first sight, he talked about his inner struggle and suffering.

"...I'm not afraid to love someone of the same sex, but I'm afraid my feelings will hurt you. At that time, I even thought… if I choose to be patient to let you live better, I would rather… be patient my whole life. But... but, in the end, my love has become your burden. I'm sorry, Ning Zhou... I'm sorry..."

Just as tears fell from his eyes, Ning Zhou wiped them away with his fingers.

"At that time, I wrote a 7 to tell you that I would be resurrected in seven days, but the moment I wrote it, I regretted it. Because... I shouldn't have said this... I never knew it would be so painful to tell the truth. If I hadn't said it, maybe you wouldn't be here now, you'd still be living in Neverland, and you wouldn't suffer so much..."

When Qi Leren had learned of Ning Zhou’s end in that game, besides his great fear, his heart had been filled with endless guilt and remorse.

He instinctively blamed himself for everything, and decided that his existence had made Ning Zhou embark on a road full of thorns, which was indeed the case. Without his existence, Ning Zhou's identity would still be an exorcist in Neverland, instead of... a descendant of the Destroyer.

"Then you would spend your whole life deceiving yourself?" Ning Zhou asked gently.

Qi Leren was silent.

"Calm pain is better than hypocrisy. I should pay for it all my life, but I shouldn't cheat it all my life... I’ve never regretted my choice." Even at the moment when he was determined to end himself, his heart was filled with endless sadness and despair, but there was no resentment or regret.

Even when he sank into the abyss of despair at that moment, he was illuminated by a beam of light, and he had been redeemed.

God gave him a miracle to embrace the light at the end of Hell.

He had courage and determination again. He wanted to give it a try and see if he could control the raging destruction, not sink into the power and become a slave to it. He was willing to try for the person he loved, even if it was an almost impossible challenge.

He was willing to die for this world, but he was willing to live for his lover.

Sometimes it was harder to live than to die.

"Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Those who can endure and overcome temptation will be rewarded." Ning Zhou gently recited the words in the Canon and looked at Qi Leren. "God has rewarded me and he sent you back to me."

Qi Leren could no longer speak. He felt another person's heat on his skin, so warm and pleasant.

He read another person's soul from his eyes, so pure and calm.

He was glad again that he had not missed Ning Zhou.

Qi Leren took out the Canon and said with a smile: "Chen Baiqi gave it to me. I’ll read it to you. If you’re tired, just sleep."

So in the dim light, he read from the first page: "After the destruction of the ancient world, everything was chaotic and asleep. There was no past, no future, no center, no margin, only endless darkness. The gods came from outside, each sowing a seed. Some seeds died before they germinated, while others were swallowed up as soon as they sprouted. Only the seeds of Father God were born within light and darkness, sky and earth, sun, moon, and stars. Father God was happy, for he wanted to bring life into the seed and make it become its own world..."

Ning Zhou closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep.

Qi Leren closed his book carefully and gently stared at Ning Zhou. At this moment, his heart was full of both sourness and sweetness. He was glad that he had arrived here in time, and pulled him out when Ning Zhou was at his most helpless and vulnerable, so that he didn't fall into the abyss of death.

At first, he thought that Ning Zhou's death would be at the hands of others, but when he came to the lake of fire and watched the black dragon roar in despair, he suddenly understood.

What would kill Ning Zhou was not the devils hidden in this underground world, but the devil inside Ning Zhou.

At that time, Ning Zhou's heart was so desperate that he would rather die of guilt than live in the world... This thought made Qi Leren feel sourness in his eyes.

A fluorescent moth, which had stopped on the cave wall, came down lightly and stopped on the blanket that covered Ning Zhou, emitting blue-green light. Qi Leren moved his fingers and drove it away.

"I believe that power has nothing to do with good and evil. You have never fallen," Qi Leren whispered, tracing Ning Zhou's sleeping face with his eyes.

Ning Zhou didn't open his eyes, but he held his hand tightly.

A teardrop trickled down from the corner of his eye and sank into the shadows.

In this dark world where only a lantern shone faintly, they devoutly delivered trust and love, and then received redemption from each other.

The long night road that they had once thought they would never be able to see the end of, all of a sudden, had already revealed the tiny lights between the distant mountains.

Qi Leren suddenly felt deeply touched. When he was trained hellishly by Chen Baiqi, he had rationally understood that all this was for his own good, so deep down, he had no hesitation or complaints. But when he held Ning Zhou's hand at this moment, he suddenly understood everything, and everything he had endured, whether it was hard training or life and death tests, had taught him to grow with every step. He had to keep growing.

What he shouldered was no longer his own life.

To the world, he was only a trivial person, but to the one who loved him, he was his whole world.

——I am willing to create a paradise on earth for you, and I am willing to hold your wandering and painful soul here.

——At this moment, I only wish that you have a good dream.

-----

Editor’s Notes: After nearly two hundred chapters, we finally get to see some sweetness between them :’)

[Here] is some fanart of their reuinion.

-----

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[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.27

Word Count: 3,082

Characters: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Peter Hale, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Deaton, Allison Argent (brief), Lydia Martin (brief), Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, cliffhanger

A/N: ---

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

“This is a bad idea,” you heard Isaac talking to himself as he paced around Derek’s loft, while you followed behind Derek.

“You’re not giving me an actual reason,” you groaned.

You ran behind Derek, as he kept walking, not facing you before walking down the stairs to Isaac.

“No is an actual reason,” he replied.

If Isaac couldn't remember anything, it only made sense for you to do a spell to jog his memory, or for you to look into his head. 

It made sense to all except Derek.

He insisted that it’d be Peter to look into Isaac’s head.

“Derek, stop. I’m serious. I hate him, I don’t trust him, he’s an asshole, have I mentioned I hate him?” you ran down the stairs, trailing Derek.

“No one likes him,” Derek sighed.

“Why can’t (Y/N) do this?” Isaac asked.

You crossed your arms, looking at Derek as you leaned against the table.

“No. End of discussion,” Derek glared at the two of you as you rolled your eyes.

Why doesn't he trust me?

“I hate him,” you said.

“Everyone does,” Derek replied.

“You know, coming back from the dead left a few of my abilities somewhat impaired, but my hearing still works fine. So, whatever you have to say, I hope you’re comfortable saying it to my face,” you heard Peter’s annoying voice as he opened the door, walking towards the three of you.

“We don’t like you,” you spat, glaring at him.

“Now shut up and help us.”

---

“I do suggest you calm and relax a little, trust me,” Peter started. 

Isaac sat on a chair next to Derek while you paced around, still unable to trust Peter. 

Peter’s eyes flashed blue as he dug his claws into Isaac’s neck, while Isaac jumped up. Peter wrapped his other arm around Isaac’s neck, in an attempt to keep him still as Isaac yelped in pain. 

Your eyes widened, running to Isaac before Derek pulled you back.

“No,” he shook his head. 

You continued looking at Isaac and Peter, watching as the two of them struggled.

Peter gasped loudly, jumping away from Isaac while Isaac wrapped his hand around his neck, rubbing the wound. 

You put your arm on Isaac’s shoulder as he looked up at you.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“Yeah, nothing like a psychopath sticking his nails into my neck to brighten my morning,” Isaac said sarcastically.

You laughed softly, patting his shoulder before looking back at Peter.

“Did you see anything?” Derek asked.

“He found them,” you tensed, hearing those words come out of Peter’s mouth.

“He saw them?” you said.

“I mean, I didn’t see much, glimpses really,” Peter said, facing away from you and Derek.

“Okay, but you did see them, right?” Derek asked.

“Worse,” you felt your face dropped as you took a deep breath.

“Deucalion,” you answered softly.

Peter nodded, turning to you as you took a few steps back.

“He was talking to them. Something about time running out,” your heart began to ache as you listened to him.

There was absolutely no way that this wasn’t your fault. Erica and Boyd were gonna die soon, if not then they already were gone.

“He’s gonna kill them,” you felt Isaac’s and Derek’s eyes on you as you continued looking away from them, looking at Peter. 

“No, he didn’t say that. But he did promise them that by the full moon they’d be dead,” Peter said.

“The next full moon? As in tomorrow night?” your voice wavered slightly.

Peter nodded as you looked away from him.

“(Y/N),” you heard Derek call you.

“I gotta go to school,” you said softly, avoiding looking at any of them as you grabbed your bag, running out of the loft. 

---

Being at a college was definitely 100 percent different. You never had any real friends your age, there was no Stiles or Scott, no Isaac running down the halls. As you went on with your classes, you found it difficult to shake away the cold feeling. Something different between you and Derek now. All summer he didn’t let you follow any lead on Erica and Boyd, sending Isaac instead. When Isaac was at the hospital, he knew and didn’t tell you. And on top of all, Peter. He somehow trusted Peter over you to look into Isaac’s head. 

You made your way to your next class, feeling a weird sense wash over your body as you looked around. Someone was watching you. 

You soon lost your focus on looking, as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

You looked at your phone, receiving a group text from Stiles and Scott, to you and Derek.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed of them, and of school. It was only the second week and you’d already missed a day, now you’re missing another class. If this kept going, there was no chance you’d be a successful lawyer. 

It’s your fault they’re in trouble, to begin with

That voice in your head haunted you as you sighed, agreeing, leaving school once again.

Looks like economics had to wait.

---

“There’s nothing there,” you walked into the classroom, feeling weird walking through Beacon Hills High again.

“Look again. Please,” Scott stopped Derek from leaving. 

“It’s the exact same bruise on both sides,” Allison said.

She and Lydia stood next to each other, holding the forearms out.

“It means nothing,” Derek argued.

“What happened?” you saw as Allison looked at you, before looking down. Things were still different between you two.

Lydia bit her lip, looking at you awkwardly.

“I told you not to come,” Derek pulled you aside.

“And I told you that I’m going. Just stop,” you rolled your eyes, walking to Scott.

“Okay, so this girl came looking for Scott, she asked me and Allison,” Lydia started to explain.

“She left the same exact bruises on both of them,” Scott said.

You mentally groaned, fighting every urge to hit Scott.

“You said it was important,” you said.

“Maybe it's a clue to where Erica and Boyd are,” Scott said.

“You-” you started, before taking a breath.

“Okay, who was the girl?” you asked.

“I think she’s the one who saved Isaac,” Scott said.

“Well, where did she go? We should try and find her. She’s the best lead we have so far,” you said.

“Okay, but you’re ignoring the whole reason we called you in the first place,” Scott said.

“I came because Stiles said it was an emergency. A bruise is not an emergency, I was in school!” you groaned.

“Please. They're trying to help,” Scott begged.

“These two?” Derek walked to you and Scott, crossing his arms.

“This one, who used me to resurrect my psychotic uncle,” he said, pointing at Lydia.

“And this one, who shot about 30 arrows into me, Isaac, and (Y/N),” Derek glared at Allison.

“If you forgot, Peter coming back was his fault, Lydia is as much of a victim as you are. Allison’s mom died. They’re trying to help,” you tried to defend them.

“They can help by trying to find something real,” Derek walked away, turning his back to all of you as you sighed.

“Is that what you needed me to do a spell for?” you looked at Stiles.

“Well, not really,” you crossed your arms, sitting next to Stiles.

“This weekend there was a party for one of my friends who turned 17. We were… about to do something and then she sort of disappeared. No one’s seen her since then,” Stiles explained.

“So you want me to find her?” you asked.

He nodded softly.

“Okay, how about we do this after school? Just come over and I’ll help you, okay?” 

“Okay. Thanks,” Stiles said.

“No problem,” 

Stiles clumsily arose from his seat, as a few things fell out of his pockets.

“You dropped this,” you handed him the condom that he dropped on the floor.

His face went red as he took it from you, putting it back in his pocket.

“So, that was the something, huh?” you teased.

“Not funny,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You don’t think she just ran away from you?” you asked.

Stiles looked at you, shocked as he rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye,” you laughed, pushing past him as you left the school.

---

“Derek, just talk to me!” you stood in front of him, blocking him as he was on his way out of the loft.

“What do you want me to tell you?!” he yelled.

“Why are you trusting Peter over me? Why are you trusting Deaton over me?! You’re trying to keep me out of everything, and I’m sick of it! Why?!” you yelled.

“I told you I’m trying to keep you safe!” he yelled.

“I don't need you to keep me safe! I’m capable of doing that myself!” 

“Well, I’m not just gonna let you! (Y/N), we don’t know what we're up against. We have an alpha pack on our hands, and you’re blaming yourself for Erica and Boyd. Whatever we find… I don’t know what we’re gonna find. I don't know what you'll do if something happens,” he looked down at you, holding your hands.

“I…” you sighed, finding a loss for words.

“I know you say that you don't need me to protect you, but that’s not going to stop me. I love you and that's my job.” 

Your eyes watered slightly, as you scoffed.

“Erica and Boyd were my fault, I need to find them,” you said softly.

“Nothing was your fault. You told them to run, you didn't know what would happen,” Derek said softly, trying to comfort you.

No amount of words would shake that feeling from you.

“Please. I need to. You have to let me do something, just let me help,” you said softly.

“We’re close to finding them, just please let me do this,” he begged, stroking your cheek.

“Let’s go to Deaton’s, okay?” you nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder as the two of you left.

---

You, Scott, and Isaac began to fill up a bathtub with ice and cold water, as Isaac walked in with Derek, looking nervously.

“Not to be that person…  but didn't we do this to kill (Y/N)?” Isaac pointed out, scratching his neck.

“Well, we won’t have to keep your head underwater the whole time, and this will be different,” Deaton explained.

“It’s safe, right?” Isaac bent down, resting his arms on the tub as he looked down at the water.

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” Deaton raised his eyebrow.

“No… okay, let’s do this,” Isaac nodded, taking a deep breath.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said.

“It’s fine,” Isaac reached for your hand as you held it, stroking it softly to comfort him.

You smiled at him softly before he took his shirt off, entering the tub, shivering.

The four of you looked at Deaton, before he nodded, telling you to push him under.

Isaac struggled, trying to break free as he yelled loudly, in pain. 

“Hold him down,” Deaton said.

“We’re trying,” you and Derek held his head down, while Stiles and Scott held his legs down.

You felt his body go limp a few seconds later, his eyes closed.

His head floated up in the water.

“Okay, no one else can talk to him, okay? Too many voices will draw him out,” Deaton warned.

You nodded softly, taking a deep breath.

“Isaac? Can you hear me?” Deaton started.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes closed.

“I want to ask you about the night you found Erica and Boyd. I want you to remember everything that happened,” Deaton said.

You heard the thunder rumbling as the lights began to flicker.

That’s not a good sign

“N-No, I don’t wanna do that. I don't… I don’t want to do that. No,” Isaac began shaking, fear evident in his voice.

“It's all right. They’re just memories, they can’t hurt you,” Deaton said.

“(Y/N), hold his hand,” Deaton whispered.

You nodded, holding his hand as you stroked it softly, calming him.

Isaac’s breathing was shaky before he calmed down, panic still evident.

“Okay, is it a building, some type of house? Where are you?” Deaton asked.

“It’s not a house. It’s stone. I think it’s marble,” Isaac responded.

“Okay, that's perfect. What else can you tell me?” Deaton asked.

“It's dusty, empty,” he said.

“Like an abandoned building?” Deaton asked.

Isaac went quiet, as the lights began to flicker again.

“Isaac?” Deaton said.

“Someone’s here,” he said.

“No! T-They see me! No!” Isaac screamed, squeezing your hand tightly.

“They see me!” he screamed.

“Isaac, relax,” Deaton told him.

You looked at Isaac frantically, as he began screaming.

“Isaac, relax,” Deaton said again.

Isaac exhaled shakily, before opening his eyes.

“I hear him. They’re talking about the full moon and they're scared of what they’ll do to each other,” Isaac shivered, his teeth chattering.

“If they’re locked together on a full moon, they’ll kill each other,” Derek whispered.

“Isaac, we need to find them. Where are they?” Deaton asked.

“They’re here... they’re here!” Isaac gasped, sitting up, but still in his trance-like state.

“They found me! They’re here!” Isaac cried.

“This isn't working. Isaac, where are they?!” Derek yelled, holding him down.

“It’s too dark. I-I can't…” Isaac cried.

“Where are they?!” Derek yelled.

“Derek, stop!” you yelled at him.

“No, all of you stop. There’s too many voices,” Deaton warned.

“Isaac, where?!” Derek yelled at him.

“Derek, let him go!” you and Scott yelled at him.

He squeezed your hand, as you felt his claws digging into your skin, wincing softly.

“Isaac! Where are you?!” Derek yelled.

“A vault! A bank vault!” he screamed.

“Derek, let him go,” you said shakily.

“Erica...,” you looked down at him, your heartbeat quickening.

“H-Her body,” he cried.

“She’s gone,” your eyes watered quickly, taking a shaky breath.

He jumped up, screaming out in pain as he came to.

“I saw it! I saw the name!” he was freezing as he came out of the water, as you quickly wrapped a blanket around him.

You bit your lip harshly, feeling blood drip from your hand along with tears from your eyes.

“It’s Beacon Hills First National Bank,” Isaac said.

“You don’t remember what you said before you came out, do you?” Stiles said softly.

“No, what was it?” he asked.

You looked down, avoiding everyone's eyes as you took a deep breath.

“You said they pulled you into a room, and there was a body in it,” Stiles said.

“Whose body?” he asked.

“Erica’s,” you could hear your heart beating in your ears as you felt your head pounding.

You kept your head down, running out of the vet, feeling your heart shattering as your throat tightened, holding back a cry.

---

“(Y/N),” Derek called your name as he made his way through the woods, finding you.

“Go away,” you ignored him, dried tear stains on your face as you sat on top of the preserve.

“Hey,” he put his hand on your face, stroking it softly.

“Please, stop. Go,” your voice wavered as you pulled away from him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he said.

“Leave,” you said.

“Your hand is bleeding,” Derek said, holding it.

“I’m fine,” you sniffled, pulling away from him.

“(Y/N), please,” Derek started.

“What do you want me to say?” more and more tears gathered, streaming down your face.

“It’s not your fault,” he said softly.

“Stop saying that! It’s all my fault. She’s dead,” you buried your head in your hands as you cried softly.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. I’m gonna keep saying that till you believe it,” Derek said softly, pulling you into his chest.

You sobbed quietly, holding Derek tightly.

“She’s dead. She’s dead… and… Boyd is gonna die,” you cried.

“We’ll find a way to save Boyd. He’ll be okay,” Derek said softly.

He continued to hold you, calming you down as you clung onto him, crying softly.

---

“The robber used a drill to get through the wall, which took him about 12 hours to make,” Stiles explained as the four of you gathered around the table in Derek’s loft.

Peter sat on the stairs, away from all of you as Stiles continued to explain the plan.

“So, we’ll need a drill,” Stiles started.

“No, we don't. If I go in first, how much space do I have?” Derek asked.

“Are you serious? That gives you like three inches. Are you gonna punch a hole through the wall? Big strong wolf?” Stiles sassed.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed of Stiles.

“Yeah, I am,” Derek said.

You zoned out, before seeing as Stiles yelped out in pain, Derek punching his hand.

“I'll go in first. Who's following after me?” Derek asked, looking at Peter.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not at full fighting strength yet,” Peter said.

“I will,” you said.

“No,” Derek started.

Your eyes flashed purple as you glared at Derek.

“I’m going in after you,” you said.

You looked at Scott, who looked at you nervously.

“Yeah, (Y/N) should go,” he agreed.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Fine, but stay with me. Our mission is to save Boyd, not fight the alphas. Okay?” Derek said.

“I know. Come on, let’s hurry this up and get going,” your voice was cold, you knew it, but you didn’t care.

You already had two bodies on you. First your mom, now Erica. You weren’t about to make it a third.  

You walked out of the loft, Scott, and Derek following behind.

---

You, Scott, and Derek stood outside the bank, finding the right spot before Derek began breaking through the walls.

“Intermissum,” you recited a spell, your eyes glowing purple as you used magic to break down the wall, Scott and Derek looking back at you.

“Let’s go,” you walked into the vault, Derek and Scott behind you.

“Boyd?” you called, walking further into the vault.

He stood in front of you, his back turned to you.

“We’re here to get you out,” Derek said.

“Stiles now is not the time to call,” Scott whispered.

“Boyd,” you said.

“Oh shit. Uh, guys,” Scott said nervously.

You heard a soft growl, another girl walking around Boyd, standing beside him.

She wasn’t Erica, but you knew her. Something so familiar.

Your eyes widened, looking at her. You looked at Derek shakily as his eyes watered.

“Cora?”

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 5

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

Morgan awoke to the sound of humming. He stretched, groaning as his muscles protested. Evidently his choice of sleeping positions had not been ideal, but he'd been too tired to care when he'd settled in. The humming stopped, and Deckard Cain turned to him from where he had been tending a pot over a small fire nearby.

"Would you believe," he said, "that none of the Sisterhood would give me your name, friend? Such a strange thing."

He would believe it. He'd learned long ago that it was generally not worth the trouble to correct people once they'd decided what they wanted to call him. The strange thing here was how little Cain seemed to be troubled by his presence. He would enjoy it while it lasted.

"It's Morgan."

"Well, Morgan, we have much to discuss. But before we get started, let us eat. You must be famished after yesterday's events." He held out a bowl of steaming soup, which Morgan accepted gratefully. It was hot and filling, exactly what he hadn't realized he needed. He'd gotten cold overnight.

Morgan briefly summarized the request that had brought him here: to disturb the progress of the unidentified manifestation of darkness taking root in these lands. Cain filled in quite a lot of details while Morgan mainly listened, asking occasional questions for clarification. A great and ancient evil had come to light in Tristram, leading eventually to the tragedy that had befallen the city. Although a hero had been successful in defeating that evil, it seemed he had been unfortunately corrupted by the same. He had fled eastward, but to complicate matters, another powerful demon had arisen to trouble the area.

Cain suspected this new demon to be Andariel, the Maiden of Anguish. Quite a title. He shared what he knew about her: a venomous demon queen with the power to enthrall mortals unlucky or unwise enough to look her full in the eyes. Like most major demons, her power also manifested in a sort of influence that spread out from her like a miasma. By Cain's estimation, this would be apparent through increased emotional sensitivity in those affected, to complement the physical anguish she was capable of inflicting. That would be something to look out for; emotional regulation was the foundation that gave strength and clarity to the priests of Rathma. To have it disrupted would compromise his ability to act in the best interest of the Balance. Morgan would have to be careful about that.

He was enjoying the conversation, to his surprise. Cain had a vast wealth of knowledge and seemed eager to share it. He was explaining his interpretation of a particular prophecy when Blaise stalked up to them with a sour look on her face. She glared daggers at Morgan, crossing her arms.

"Good, you're awake. Come with me, we have work to do."

"We do?" He'd expected - hoped, if he was honest with himself - that her involvement would be finished after retrieving Cain. That was as far as Kashya had demanded it, anyway. "I thought you-"

"I thought this nightmare was over too, but I just finished arguing with Akara. One of our old commanders has risen from the dead to attack us, and she blames you." She looked back toward the gates. "I told her that's not how your stuff works, but she didn't believe me." That was a surprise - he would not have guessed she might speak up in his defense. He wondered what had changed. Maybe Cain had convinced her somehow. The man was good with words, with people, in a way Morgan knew he could never hope to echo. "So if you don't come with me to put her back in the ground, you're probably going to regret it," Blaise continued with a pointed look.

Well, Morgan couldn't argue with that. He stood and stretched, taking stock of his belongings as Cain pressed Blaise with questions. She bore them with more patience than he'd expected. One of the other scouts had survived the attack, but her recovery was not going well. It sounded like she'd been poisoned. A shame they hadn't kept the arrow; he might have been able to identify the toxin. But then again, if he tried to treat her and failed, they would be even less willing to trust him. If Cain was right, it would be a moot point anyway - he thought the resurrection was Andariel's doing, meaning that the poison was likely due to her influence. He had no experience with that type of venom.

"Oh, Morgan, I almost forgot," Cain called out as they were leaving. Morgan turned to see him holding something in an upraised hand. "You had better take another scroll of town portal, in case you should need to return with haste."

"Thank you." He accepted the proffered scroll with a small bow of his head, tucking it into his belt.

"Let's get a move on already," Blaise called. She had already started walking. Morgan jogged to catch up, already apprehensive about the journey ahead. Her mood had softened around the old scholar, but it seemed Morgan would not be privy to those benefits. He hoped this situation would be resolved quickly so he could begin planning his attack on Andariel.

The battle was over in short order. The reanimated rogue captain had called out to Blaise by name, which confirmed Cain's guess about her origins - only very powerful forces could resurrect both flesh and spirit. She must have been buried inexpertly, leaving her vulnerable to those malign forces. Most funeral proceedings not led by the Order of Rathma or other experienced practitioners were more for the benefit of the living than the dead. At any rate, it served only to fuel Blaise's already considerable anger, and she'd defeated the revenant with only a moment's hesitation. Several piles of earth were evidence of Morgan's attempts to provide support. Each golem was ever so slightly faster to rise than the last, but this enemy had been agile enough to render them all but useless until she'd stumbled over a previously flat spot of ground. Not an elegant solution, but effective enough in the end. Now Blaise was examining the body, brow furrowed.

"Hey. Ghoul... uh. Morgan." That was a surprise. Cain had called him by name in front of her, but he'd assumed she wouldn't be bothered to remember it. "If you do that... ceremony. Like in Tristram. Will it... help her?"

"The final rites will lay her spirit to rest, and consecration should prevent her from rising again." He'd planned on performing them anyway, as a matter of course. At the very least, they would prevent her from being wholly resurrected again - powerful magic could overcome a properly consecrated body, but it could not pluck a spirit back once it had passed on.

Blaise seemed reluctant to ask outright, but she did step in to help when he went to move the body back to the grave it had clearly clawed out of. He opted for a more thorough consecration ritual and a shorter liturgy, both of which seemed to be well received. Blaise didn't raise any objections, at least. The interment was easier than the last ones, the ground more yielding, but a frown crept onto Morgan's face as he stood up and surveyed his work.

"What are you making that face for? Didn't it work?"

"No, that's not it. Your commander is at peace now, but there are many restless dead here. It must be Andariel making them stir like this." He could barely hear their whispers at the edge of his awareness if he concentrated. It was a little unsettling; usually he could only just sense a hint of the spirit lingering on a set of bones, nothing near this strong. He lacked the natural facility with spirits that drew some of the acolytes to his Order. At any rate, their agitation was cause for concern.

"I don't have the supplies to handle this many."

"I guess we'd better take the fight to Andariel, then. Don't look so surprised," she added, folding her arms across her chest. "The Sisterhood doesn't want there to be a... demon queen or whatever just running loose. She's killing our people. And apparently bringing them back again, and that's just fucked up. I may not like you, but you're the only person who's come through lately and survived. So we might as well work together on this."

"Yes, of course. You're right." The suggestion was wholly unexpected, but sound. Their objectives aligned, at least on the surface. If that was enough for her to tolerate working with him a little longer, he wasn't about to turn down her assistance. She was many times stronger than him. Luckily, she seemed capable of putting aside her personal feelings temporarily in order to meet a goal. It was really about as favourable a partnership as he could hope to make.

Now seemed like an opportune time to present a peace offering of some sort. But given her previous overreaction to a completely innocent comment, he didn't really want to risk giving a gift that could be taken as a token of anything he didn't intend. Perhaps... knowledge? There had been few of his brethren in the Order who'd had trouble with the portal scrolls, but their difficulties had always been resolved with a little coaching. It seemed like it would be worth trying.

He plucked the scroll from Cain out of its spot on his belt and held it out to her. She eyed it suspiciously. "Here. These are useful. You should try it again."

"It isn't that far to go back, you know," she said, not making a move to take the rolled parchment.

"The object is to see if you can use it. Not to actually travel. You might need one in the future."

She snatched the scroll from his hands and unrolled it with a snap of her wrist. "I can't even read what it says," she grumbled.

"Neither can I," he said. She looked up from the parchment with a perplexed frown. "It's not words, it's more like a spell," he explained. The look on her face told him she was going to need more than that. "You just have to believe it's going to work. Try telling it that it's going to open a portal for you."

"You didn't have to tell it anything when you did it yesterday."

"I already know how it's going to work. I just have to... acknowledge that I expect it to let me travel somewhere, and think about where." It was much easier to do than to explain. "Just try," he urged. "You don't have to say it out loud," he added, in case that helped.

She looked back down at the scroll. Her lips moved a little, and shortly a small circle appeared in the air in front of her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"See, it works for you. Now try to think about a specific place," Morgan advised. Slowly an image came into focus within the circle. It looked like the inside of a building. There were rows of beds lined up, presumably the barracks of the Sisterhood. Blaise looked cautiously pleased as the portal opened up fully now that it had a destination.

"I guess it's not so hard to use magic, is it?" she said with a smile. It was strange for a moment, having that smile aimed at him.

"Not this kind," Morgan agreed. There were many different types of magic and some of them were quite difficult to use even for experienced mages, but he suspected this would not be the time to get into a discussion on the topic.

"How do I close it?"

"It will close on its own when you come back through it, or if the spell is disrupted. Yesterday I tore the parchment to close it."

"Huh. Thanks."

Morgan nodded an acknowledgement and turned to go. The walk back would give him a chance to think about how to best approach the situation. Andariel was probably lurking within the nearby cathedral, if the patterns of undead were to be trusted. Demons often liked to pervert religious spaces, and major demons tended to draw flocks of lesser evils around them.

"Aren't you coming?" He turned back to see Blaise standing by the portal, hands on her hips.

"I'm walking. It isn't that far to go back," he parroted.

"This is easier, though. And faster."

"That looks like your sleeping quarters," he pointed out. "I doubt I would be welcome."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Good point. I'll see you back outside the encampment, then." She turned and paused for a moment, then strode confidently through the portal. Morgan waited until it had flickered closed behind her before taking his leave. He would have preferred to be able to put more of the spirits to rest, but that could be seen to after Andariel had been defeated. There would be little point in wasting his energy on a task that was likely to be undone. He stopped at the cemetery gate and knelt, touching a hand to the soil. A thin line rose up, curling around itself in a simple sign. It marked the area as requiring the attention of a priest of Rathma. This way, if he was to fall in battle, the next of his Order to come along would be able to soothe the unquiet dead.

He raised another golem and started walking. With this new partnership, there could be a reasonably good chance of defeating Andariel. He wondered what state the cathedral would be in, and how many skeletons he might hope to find lying beneath its floors. He hoped there would be some stained glass still intact. Not for any strategic purpose, just because he liked it. It was his personal opinion, not endorsed by the priesthood, that artisans who spent their efforts on creating beautiful things were doing work for the Light. Of course beauty and skill did not appear in the list of attributes that added up to make the weight of a person's goodness or lack thereof, and it was really just idle musing on his part. Still, he appreciated beauty where he found it.

[justafewsmallsteps]

Late for Halloween, but hey, it’s Inuvember. So here’s my annual contribution to my Witch AU, Now You’re Mine. Read part 1, part 2, and part 3 to understand (or you can just like the art?) This time we have exposition and angst. I appreciate any responses in the tags or comments.🥺Or any questions about this AU! Maybe I’ll even want to write more... 

Now You’re Mine Pt. 4  Words: 2208 Rating: T for violence mention and blood

It was a long, slow night for them. After Kikyou disappeared, Kagome barely uttered out his name and traced his cheekbone before falling unconscious once again. Though she stopped bleeding so profusely, he still thought it was best to get her away from the ritual sight. The full moon had his blood running hot in his veins, but the immediate danger was gone. He was on high alert that night, listening for her heartbeat and feeling her pulse to stay calm and keep his transformation at bay. It was a miracle he hadn’t turned with the events that happened, but he was on edge the whole time, red flickering in and out of his vision. His heightened senses also had him feeling extra paranoid.

By the time the sun rose and his mind felt clearer, he resolved to get them back to Kaede’s place. Inuyasha treated Kagome gingerly as they slowly made their way back. She was in and out of consciousness and her waking varied from groggy calls out to him and sudden gasps. He kept reassuring her that he was there, that she was okay now, and that he’d get them back safely.

It was annoying to walk, and that was exacerbated by the ball weight dragging his leg. He still didn’t get why it’d suddenly become so heavy overnight, but he figured it was because Kagome was in such a bad state. He doubted she would have had the strength to fly them back even if she had her broom.

When they finally walked through the entrance, it was already past nightfall. Kaede saw Kagome’s pale face and limp body and flew into action. She brewed up a strong potion to get her feeling better. It was a deep green color, full of dried ingredients to make it extra potent as they rehydrated. Normally the smell of it would send Inuyasha right out of there and far away, but he found himself uneasy being too distant. For a while he fidgeted and did his best to bear it, but eventually it proved too much for his still sensitive nose to handle. He stood outside where the scent wasn’t so concentrated, but paced under the starlight to keep guard. He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. His mind swirled along with the dried up leaves being swept up by wind.

In the early morning, Kaede joins him in the front.

“Kagome slept through the night and she’s still asleep. The medicinal potion causes drowsiness. The human body works best when it rests. She’ll probably be waking soon, but she’ll have to take it easy for some time. She was drained of a lot of blood.”

Inuyasha gives a shrug to acknowledge her. He’s not sure what to say, but he feels a little relieved. He didn’t get a wink of sleep the past few days and it was starting to take a toll on him.

“Dark witches are tricky and aren’t afraid to use any spell to serve their purposes, even if they defy the Laws. Kagome’s been through a serious blood ritual, that much was clear, but she hasn’t been able to recall a lot of what happened, so you’ll have to give me more details, Inuyasha.”

He’s quiet. What happened? A lot more than he was ready for. Between the capture, Kikyou’s resurrection, and Kagome’s near death, he’s having a hard time processing it all. Let alone how it’d been the night of the full moon, so he’d been in a near-transformation haze. Kikyou’s ghost haunted him, and Kaede had reacted so strongly when news of her came up before. Of course she had, they were of the same clan. He now knows for sure that Kikyou didn’t just disappear the night she sealed him. She died before she ever got a chance to kill him. Now she was out there somewhere.

Her words echo in his skull. “Inuyasha, I will be back for you. I refuse to die until I end you. Remember that your life is mine.”

Sensing his hesitation, Kaede adds, “The more I know about the events that transpired, the better I can treat Kagome.”

He shuffles and sighs. “Kagome was captured by some crazy old bat called Urasue. That’s the one who ambushed her at the well. When I found her she was already bleeding out on the ground. The blood ritual was… to bring back another witch.”

“A Soul Trade,” Kaede confirms. “It’s a particularly complex spell, and one that requires many key factors. A dark spell that’s difficult to control.”

“But why Kagome? The old witch was after her specifically! She went through the trouble of kidnapping her right when she came out of the well.”

Kaede lets out a steady breath and lets it mingle with the cold before answering, “For a seasoned witch, it’s easy for us to sense the power potential in others. If you’re saying this Urasue could be a century old, then she fine tuned that sense long ago. Kagome’s magic is especially strong. Haven’t you wondered why a retired teacher like me would take her in so easily? To help her control it. Kagome’s magical aura makes her stand out. You should know. Even barely trained, she's able to do things most can never hope to master.”

“Like make me into her familiar.”

Kaede gives a solemn nod.

“So she was captured because she’s powerful?”

“Partly. It makes her easy to find.”

“Then why else?”

“Who was she used to resurrect, Inuyasha? I can only believe that she’d be necessary to revive another witch. One who shares her immense magic, and one who shares her blood.”

Inuyasha looks away and clenches his fist in his sleeves. It’s like denial. “Her blood… so Kagome is Kikyou’s blood after all.”

“You’ve always known Inuyasha. You said she could be mistaken for her.”

He doesn’t like the thought. “That’s why she could free me then too, right? Kikyou put the spell on me, and Kagome could undo it because they share a bloodline.” His ears droop slightly, and his eyes seem to glaze over a little in thought.

Kaede studies him, her good eye fixes on the chain at his ankle. He’d been dragging it when he entered and exited earlier, the weight leaving heavier trails than before. “Perhaps, but ‘undo’ isn’t the right word. Replace.”

Inuyasha scoffs, but his demeanor turns serious. “When I dragged Kagome out of the spell circle it started to reverse the ritual. Kikyou started bleeding out instead, but then she escaped using Urasue’s broom. I don’t know where she went, but Kikyou’s out there somewhere. It’s why Kagome feels this bad still, I’m sure of it. ”

“So Kikyou is stuck in the middle now.”

“In the middle?”

“An undead. It’s a rare phenomenon, especially for a good witch. There are those who specialize in animating the dead—like puppeteers toying with creatures, but to resurrect life requires a much stronger power. Imagine the strength it takes for a witch to resist a ritual so insidious.” She pauses, “Or the strength it takes to survive it.”

“Is Kagome going to be alright?” His tail swishes anxiously behind him.

“I told you she’s stronger than most.”

“But… what about Kikyou? Does she need Kagome to live? Is she going to come after her to complete the ritual?”

“Kikyou is also stronger than most, maybe the strongest to have lived. She was The Keeper of the Grimoire for a long time. She must have absorbed some of its powers when she locked it away. It’s possible she will turn to it now. For better or worse, I believe she’ll find a way to survive like this.”

“That’s what the hag was after. The Grimoire, just like before.”

Kaede wonders to herself what he means by “before,” but chooses to hold her tongue about it. Whatever secrets Inuyasha has about his past are his own.

“It’s a legend to most witches. A beacon for those who seek power. It holds dark, ancient secrets. Powerful spells that bend Laws instead of breaking them. Kikyou was rumored as the last witch to know its location and be able to access it, so it makes sense that Urasue would attempt to use her to find it, but foolish to think she could control her.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with frustration, the image of Urasue’s head being sliced clean off flashes through his mind. He swallows. “She’s… definitely something.”

“I have a feeling Kagome has the same potential to reach similar heights.”

“But she wouldn’t hurt a fly!” His ears droop. “She’ll have to learn how to protect herself though…” They can’t afford for this to happen again.

It’s that kind of concern he takes for his witch that warms Kaede’s heart and makes her believe that their relationship is more than it seems. Much as Inuyasha complains, there’s a genuine softness with which he treats her. “If you stay by Kagome’s side I’m sure she’ll be well guarded as I continue on her training. You being near her will give her strength, you share it with one another. That’s part of the familiar bond.”

It’s a clear invitation for him to go inside and see her, but he doesn’t know what to do. Part of him wants to check in on her, but another part feels weird about it. He can’t shake the feeling that he has to stay alert. As if on cue, he hears a small muffle from inside the room and his ears stand on alert. He stands up immediately on instinct, his chain making a light noise at the movement.

Kaede looks up and motions to stop him before he can push aside the screen. “I should warn you about the repercussions of stopping the ritual, Inuyasha.” Her tone is hushed.

He raises his brow.

“A Soul Trade links the sacrifice and the resurrected for a short time. It’s like a transfer between the two. It’s possible that because of the ritual, Kagome and Kikyou shared certain things. Emotions. Knowledge.”

His eyes go wide for a second and he holds his breath.

“Memories.”

Inuyasha presses his lips together and stands there for a moment, mind suddenly filling with new thoughts. What had Kagome learned from Kikyou? Did she hate him now too? There was no way, but then again, she’d basically been passed out the whole time. What could she have seen? He suddenly feels like running away, but he’s frozen.

Then the muffled sound repeats, and he hears his name. Everything in his mind shouts at him, Go to her! The familiar bond is pulsing through his head. Ultimately it’s her though, fragile and searching that moves him into action.

He lets his lungs empty and sucks in another breath, the cold sting of it filling his chest and reminding him of the night she freed him. When he felt his heartbeat for the first time in decades. He pushes the door aside and enters quickly, careful not to let too much chill inside.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome calls as soon as he’s in the room.

The scent of her blood has faded, but it’s still there staining her clothes, and it bothers Inuyasha a lot. Still, he wants to know she’s okay.

“I’m here, Kagome,” he assures her as he did their walk home. “Are you alright?”

She smiles and weakly nods at him, and knots in his stomach unravel just a little. She had a way of untangling him from dark places. “Stay by me?” she requests, holding a shaky hand towards him. He flashbacks to her limp hand stuck in the pentagram, to her reaching out to protect him. Of course she didn’t hate him.

The relief swells in his chest, but he doesn’t want it to make a big deal out of nothing. Instead of saying anything, he huffs out a breath to sound bothered and sits by her, the ball annoyingly dragging against the ground on his way. Instead of taking her hand, he checks it for her pulse.

“You need something?”

Kagome blinks, her eyebrows knitting in what Inuyasha can assume is either dizziness or pain. She makes a move to study him, trying to focus on his face. She swore he looked different last night. Red eyes and jagged marks on his cheeks. She reaches out to touch him, but he pulls away and stands up.

He’s relieved she’s alright, but suddenly afraid of her questions. “You’ve been out all night since Kaede gave you that potion. I’ll get you water. You just rest up.” Kaede’s warning is stuck in his mind like tar. There are things Kagome could know now, and he doesn’t want to deal with it.  

Behind him the ball drags on the floor, catching Kagome’s attention again. Visions from the other night flicker in her mind, but they’re vague and fleeting. Some of them seem familiar, and other thoughts feel like she’s someone else. Her head aches to think about them, but her heart reacts with a different kind of pain. She frowns and watches him leave, tucking her hand back to her chest. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with longing, feeling small and pathetic as he walks away.

Why couldn’t he just stay by her side?

[divineluce]

And from the Ashes || Leah, Luce, Morgan, Nell, & Rio

Timing: Late at Night May 26th, 2021

Location: A burnt out clearing in the Outskirts

Tagging: @phoenixleah, @divineluce, @mor-beck-more-problems, @nelllraiser, @3starsquinn, and featuring Bernard Burnie the Phoenix

Description: The time has come to try and save the phoenix.

Running a hand through her hair, Luce looked at the clearing that she’d led the others to. It was a wide-open space, already charred and covered in ash- she’d first spotted the burnt-out area when she and Adam had posted up in the burnt out shell of a building on Scorch Street. She’d ventured out here on her own a few days before, dragging as many branches she could manage into the center of the neat circle of blackened soil. They needed a pyre, a central place for the magic to be channeled, to catch the energy they poured into the spell. They. That assumed that she’d be able to do something, that she’d be able to… summon the flames.

Luce dropped the gas can she’d hauled into the woods with a heavy, sloshing thud. There were already a few cans lying at the edge of the clearing, a contingency plan courtesy of Adam. He’d been game to help with the setup, loaning her what equipment he had to help. Nell knew how to pick ‘em. Even if he was some kinda doomsday prepper. “Here we go. Rio, you’ve been looking at the wards, right?” She said, gesturing to the area around them. “I’m not sure how big we need to go… Would you know anything about the scope?” Luce asked, glancing over at Morgan with a tentative gaze. The scratches that ran along her body were still scabbed over and angry to the touch, even with the help of Nell’s poultices. “Nell, do you want to get started with the herbs? Leah should be out looking for the phoenix, hopefully we have some time before she radios us that they’re on the move.” Luce said as she unzipped her backpack and began to pull out the various ingredients the ritual required. A silver mortar and pestle, courtesy of Bea, the Bloodroot, the jar of corrupted resurrection dirt, another glass with the phoenix’s still smoldering ashes, and bundles upon bundles of sage and lavender. Pulling the last vial from her pocket, Luce stared at the small bottle of phoenix tears. This had to work. It had to work.

Leah Ramirez was not an improviser. Not by any means. For an event like the one they were attempting to go as smoothly as possible, it was incredibly important to plan out every detail down to the second, and then establish a plan B, C, D… all the way to ZZ in case things didn’t go as planned. It was admirable how determined Luce was to save this poor soul. Leah always knew she had a huge heart, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t always a big fan of showing it. This needed to go well- if not for the phoenix, for Luce. For her to know it was okay to openly care about something and to ask for help.

Her job was simple enough. Find the corrupted phoenix, entice him to chase her, run to the clearing, help with the ritual. It wasn’t hard to find him, either. He’d been leaving a path of destruction for weeks now, and she followed the path of ash and char that he left behind until she found an area that was still very much on fire. The flames didn’t scare Leah- they couldn’t hurt her. And she hoped if what she’d heard about corrupted phoenixes was true, he’d get frustrated at the lack of damage he was doing to her and chase after her. If not, there was always plan ZZ. But when she finally laid eyes on him, it felt like a punch to her gut. She’d seen plenty of phoenixes in their flame state before, but her family was always so careful to be controlled and calm in their flame presentation. They had the privilege of years of training, not to mention the ability to change back if it all became too much. The corrupted phoenix, on the other hand, was raging, stuck in an eternal flame state with no way of connecting with anyone or anything. Of course he was destroying the world- it was the only way he could get its attention. She radio’d the group from her safe distance, watching the phoenix to see if he’d noticed her. “Found him. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Orion had stayed up half the night drawing the runes that Luce had sent him. He wasn’t sure how much the group would need, so he figured he should do as many as he possibly could. He kept his bag full of them, weighing on his back as he followed the group to the clearing Luce had prepared. From the looks of it, Luce had been hard at work to get things ready for the spell. While the rest of the group was probably used to stuff like this, Rio hadn’t taken part in many spells. He was equal parts excited and nervous. Something like this was an entirely new experience to learn about. It was every scribe’s dream. On the other hand, Luce had already warned him how much energy this would take. This wasn’t going to be a simple spell, one thing gone wrong could screw everything up. Rio just wanted to make sure he wasn’t the cause of any mess ups.

Once they were together in the clearing, Rio dropped his back and pulled the stack of paper with the wards drawn on them. “Yeah, I’ve got a bunch. Just tell me what to do with them. I’ll follow everyone else’s lead. I think I’m the newbie here.”

Morgan double checked the notes she’d made on her phone. “Bigger might be safer,” she said. “Wider net, easier catch.” But not too big, or else the energy needed to power the space might increase to dangerous proportions. She came over to Rio and showed him the diagram she’d made. “If we give ourselves a twenty foot diameter, you should be able to put down the runes in intervals of two feet. Move clockwise and make sure they’re all oriented the right way, okay?”

That done she went over to Luce, who was looking a little uneasy. “Hey. This’ll work if you let it, okay? You can help him.”

Nell was tired. But that seemed to be the beginning of every thought she has of late. It was getting to the point of being exhausted from the constant state of emotional tiredness, which often left her feeling either drained, irritable, or both. As she bent over her densely packed sticks of herbs, she did her best to banish the sensation of lethargy seeping into her bones, shaking herself out of its grabby hands to gather the strength she’d need for the coming ceremony. If there was one thing that could spark her massive reservoirs of determination, it was a sister in need— and as Nell let her gaze wash over Luce, and all the physical as well as emotional cuts and scrapes it’d taken her to get here, it was obvious Luce was certainly in need.

She didn’t have fire like her sisters, so when she lit the herbs to cleanse and purify it was with the lighter from her pocket. Blowing softly over the end of it, she let the flame peter out until a steady trail of smoke was rising from the end of the bundle before handing it off to Rio. “Take this with you, too.” Did he have enough hands for it? MAybe he could stick it in his pocket or something. Or- “I can walk with you if you need it.” Then she was on to lighting the next stick of herbs, keeping this one for herself.

Rummaging around in her pockets, Luce pulled out the shitty little Zippo lighter she kept on her. She’d never had to actually use it, but now might be the time. If her flames didn’t come, she’d find a way to make sure that this worked. One way or another, she’d get fire to burn and to hopefully, hopefully put an end to this person’s nightmare. After all this time, the weeks of work trying to gather the ingredients she needed for the ritual, she hadn’t paused to think about how they must be feeling in the middle of all this. Were they still in there? Or were they lost to the fire, like she had been? The walkie talkie on her belt buzzed and she heard Leah’s staticky confirmation. “Sounds good. We need a bit more time, but I’ll give you the signal when we’re ready.”

“Bigger is better, I’ll take your word on that. Thanks for drawing those up, Rio.” Luce said, looking closely at the runes he’d drawn. Damn. For a Scribe who claimed like he didn’t know what he was doing, they looked damn good. Like, really fucking good. And Morgan knew what she was doing, she could guide him as they set the perimeter of the ritual site. Sucking in a deep breath, she cast Nell a tense grimace of a smile before staring at the silver mortar in front of her. The ingredients were all here. She just had to… tap into the magic. Flexing her hands, she unstoppered the bottles and began to mix them together “The corrupted earth with tears to mend,” She muttered quietly to herself, trying to reach for the magic that lived within her. Fear gripped at her heart as she tried to feel the connection and found… nothing.

Leah couldn’t have taken her eyes off the corrupted phoenix if she tried. The way he moved and raged through the forest, his path clear but his goal unsolidified, it fascinated her. She wanted to take it all in, write it down and warn family members about the dangers of changing their ways. She took another step forward toward him, and suddenly, he whipped around to stare at her, flames angry and dark. For a while, there seemed to be nothing else, just two phoenixes, born of very different circumstances, staring at each other and waiting for the other to make a move. Could he sense what she was? Was he confused by her lack of fear? She took another step forward, right into the charred remnants of a tree that were still on fire. We’re the same, she was trying to tell him. We can be the same. In her time observing him, this was the first time she’d seen the phoenix still.  “We want to help you”, she said, quietly. Would he hear her? Could he understand? But as quickly as it had seemed to pause, his rage picked up again, and soon, he was barreling toward her. The radio secured at her shoulder buzzed, with Luce indicating they weren’t ready. Shit. As he ran toward her, she thought quickly, switching into her flame state.

Now they were really the same.

With the two phoenixes both engulfed by their flames, there was no solid body for the corrupted one to ram into, no destruction he could cause.  He whipped around again to look at her, and for another moment, as if there were a second of clarity. But again, it didn’t last. Leah switched back, and began running toward where the phoenix had come from, into the fiery destruction he’d been wallowing in. “We want to help you” she cried as she heard him begin to run after her.

Morgan watched Nell and Rio get to work laying the circle and burning their bundles. There was another one for her, but she hesitated to reach for it. This wasn’t an afternoon in her studio or a hopeful exercise for her peace of mind. Someone’s life was hanging in the balance. All of theirs, really, if you factored in the risks of this going sideways. What good was the energy of a dead woman with no direction? And yet. She felt useless, just standing there. Sure, she’d helped Luce work out the magic maths for the circle and organize a delegated plan, but that was theory, that was cozy. She wanted to help, if only to prove that she still could. That she hadn’t given up yet. So she picked up the last bundle and lit it up. She could smell none of the smoke that rose from the black and orange crackling ends, but she remembered her own rituals in the woods when she was trying to learn blood magic. She remembered her fear of being shut down by the universe, of being turned away by her friends, and the way her hope trembled as the smoke cleansed the hurt from her space. As she did the last thing, the only thing she could, she prayed to the earth below them that this phoenix would have his hurt wiped away too.

“I think that’s about it. Everyone ready?”

Orion had a stack of papers in his mouth, hanging on by the corner of the paper as he moved along the path, more paper in one hand and the burning herbs that Nell had passed to him in the other. He had assured Nell that he was fine, but one misstep and he would tumble. He followed Morgan’s directions, placing the runes around in a large circle and watching the other group carefully. Everyone looked incredibly focused. Just another hint that this was serious. Stuff like this must be second nature to them, yet there was a lot of care and detail put into every single step. It made sense, from what Rio knew about spells, the devil was in the details. Sometimes literally he supposed. But the smallest inaccuracy could cause horrible side effects. His chest tightened at the thought of what backlash could come if something go wrong, but he shook it off quickly. He had been injured trying to help others. It had never changed his mind before, he wasn’t about to let today freak him out.

Once the circle was complete he gave a thumbs up towards the group just in time for Morgan to ask if they were ready. Honestly, Rio had no idea if they things were ready, but he eyed the gas cans around the circle. He figured those would come into play once the spell started. “All set” Rio confirmed, moving in the circle to join with the others.

None of them were wholly fireproof anymore despite having taken their own footsteps through the flames of their existence, and Nell was no exception. Each one of those present had all weathered their own firestorms, walking straight into infernos that had every right to have felled them where they stood. But still they persisted, like the embers of a life refusing to be snuffed out despite all the gusts buffeting them from sometimes all sides. Fire was life and death, as cyclical as anything else in the magic. That’s what Nisa had tried to teach her daughters while they’d grown amongst the trees of the forest. It could steal life in a moment, burning a person out of existence until they were no more than ash on the wind, but as was the way with everything in the world it had the other face of its coin. Warmth, cauterizing, cleansing. In and of itself fire was the most alive of the elements, flickering with a spirit and will of its own. And yet that same life was so good at snuffing out others.

Nell didn’t have the fire her sisters had once wielded, so she’d thought the lessons didn’t apply to her. But she had her own flame living in her chest, the same heat that had told her to kill Montgomery and to make it hurt. The searing anger that had her digging a knife into Frank’s side, and poised to smother his own fire. Maybe they all had flames living within them, dangerous if left unchecked. Luce had left her flames to themselves since nearly a year ago to the day, or maybe it had been even longer. Nell had too. But she was watching in real time as her sister tried to reign them in, reignite them in a way that didn’t end with screams and acrid stench of burning flesh. It was enough to make Nell wonder what the peace on the other side might be like, whether she might one day give up the things fueling her flames to try her own hand at seizing it. Today wasn’t about her, though. That much she knew as she came out of the circle she’d walked to slip her hand into Luce’s for a squeeze. “We’ll make this work.” Luce wasn’t alone, and she’d be sure to remind her sister of that. Gathering her magic, she searched the corners of herself to pick up every scrap of it, knowing this spell was no small feat. She and Luce would be lucky if they didn’t pass out, let alone leave with skinned arms and a heart attack later. “You’re ready?”

Luce couldn’t help the way angry tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, helpless, unable to feel the flames that lived within her. This had to work, it had to fucking work. She needed it to work, she needed to save this person but… The words Adam had told her, when they’d posted up in the burnt out husk of a building on Scorch Street, they echoed in the back of her mind. Either I accept the dude in the mirror or I keep doing stuff that hurts everybody I care about. One of the most dude-bro things she’d heard from him, but it was true. She’d been mulling over their conversation for days now, trying to reconcile what he’d told her with the things she felt. And she’d thought… She’d thought she had this. She thought she could do this. But what if she was wrong? What if she couldn’t? What if he was wrong, what if Rio and Nell and Morgan—who had given her this second chance to change—had misplaced their faith? Her hands trembled slightly as she uncorked the bottle of ash, muttering a quiet Turkish chant over the still smoldering remains as she mixed it in. The Bloodroot followed and she mixed it all together with the pestle, the mixture crackling and sparking as she did her best to guide the magical properties of the ingredients into what she wanted, what she needed it to be. A cure. A way to end the nightmare. Redemption. Though her flames lay stubbornly still within her, Luce poured intention into the mixture until the chalice was full of a thick, smoking liquid.

Swallowing, Luce glanced up to see that Morgan and Rio had already drawn the wards, laid out the runes in their prescribed spaces around the large pyre. The bundles of herbs were smoking, filling the air with a heady scent, and all of them were waiting on… her. Luce felt Nell slip her hand into her own and she offered a nod. She wasn’t ready but she had to do this. She had to see this through. “Whatever it takes.” She said quietly as she stood up in the circle. Holding tightly onto her sister’s hand, the silver cup on the ground before them, Luce brought the walkie talkie to her mouth with her free hand. “Send him our way. We’re ready.” Now or never.

Leah ran and ran, waiting for the fuzzy confirmation that she could bring the phoenix to the clearing. She didn’t know how long they played cat and mouse, Leah switching back and forth between flame state to keep him occupied. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up. As she ran, exhaustion began to over take every part of her- her bones, her heart, her lungs- but she had to keep going. They had to help. And suddenly, when it felt that maybe she couldn’t go anymore, she heard the telltale buzz from Luce that they were ready, and without warning, she switched her path and began to run toward the clearing. The phoenix, in his effort to catch up with her, seemed to leave less of a trail of destruction than he had been in the last week or so, and she had to breath a sigh of relief at that.

It seemed like it took forever, but she finally broke through the clearing with the group of her friends, all ready and expectant to start the ritual that could end this. The phoenix seemed to pay them no mind. As they reached the center, she turned around and watched him stop and finally take in his surroundings. At least, that’s what she assumed he was doing- if he was even aware of what was going on. Regardless, with him distracted, Leah switched back into her flame state one last time, wrapping herself around the corrupted phoenix and engulfing him with her own flames. “We’re the same”, she whispered, hushed and smoky. “You’re not alone.”

Nell’s first reaction upon seeing Leah and the corrupted phoenix was one of ‘fight’, muscles tensing as she prepared to dodge a fireball that may or may not be coming her way, and dive in headlong to try and subdue the phoenix. But that’s not why they were here. They weren’t fighting today, they were cleansing, purifying— and violence could never truly grant either of those. Killing a problem wasn’t the same as healing from it, and wasn’t that obvious in the way her past choices seemed to never let her be? Maybe Luce should have asked Bea to help with the phoenix. Bea could be warm in the way the flip side of fire was meant to be, she’d know how to burn out the bad without incinerating the whole. Sure— Nell knew her plants and practical magic, but what good were those when she was home to an unsteady heart? If her intentions wavered, if she didn’t focus on the right things...would the phoenix simply rise to an even bigger and angrier inferno than it was now?

Thankfully Nell’s sister by her side, and Leah’s embrace of the other phoenix served as a reminder that she wasn’t all sharp edges and bloody hands. She had a family. And even though a bulk of it had left in the form of the coven, friends that had needed to find their own way beyond the town lines of White Crest, and even Bex who had fled in a fear Nell was still struggling to process— she could see her family reflected in the faces present. Luce by blood, Morgan by choice, Leah by upbringing, even Rio at times with the way he was ready and willing to help anyone who so much as glanced in his direction. Surely anyone who had a family was worth something? To have people who loved you was no easy feat. Did the phoenix have people that had loved him before? Leah loved him even now as he tried to burn the world to ash, caught in between her arms. Maybe there was another choice that could be made. As cliche as it may be, love was a cleanser, a healer, a purifier. And Nell knew how to do that even if she wasn’t always adept at it. That would be her focus point for the spell.

With a smattering of her own Turkish words Nell fueled the wards to life, letting her magic blaze through them so that the area was safely contained. Nowadays, she most often used Latin for her spellcasting, skipping the extra step of translation when she could. But if this were to be a spell of love she’d used the tongue her sister had used, the one her father had told stories in. Taking Luce’s other hand in her own, she placed their joined hands on the outside of the chalice, folding her palms over Luce’s while they cradled the silver between them. Leah had said it best, and she borrowed the words from the phoenix to lend to Luce, the soft Tukish private between them while she let her magic and intentions flow. “We’re the same.” They’d both been lost. Both desperately trying to claw their way out of the prisons they’d made for themselves out of their past deeds. But maybe with this, with the cleansing of the phoenix- at least Luce could be found. It was hard to remember that there were hands waiting on the other side of one’s self-made bars, people simply waiting for you to reach out and hold on tight. Nell wasn’t sure which of them was raising the other from perdition anymore, but she knew it was as one. “You’re not alone.”

The phoenix looked even worse than the first time Luce and Adam had seen them. Him, she realized. The phoenix was a man wreathed in brilliant, unnatural flames that seemed to flare around him in a malevolent glow. He stared at the clearing-- perhaps a moment of recognition for a place he’d already brought ruin upon, perhaps trying to puzzle out what the ritual space was for. Either way, Leah took advantage of the distraction and, cloaked in her own flames, she held onto him tightly. Her brilliant flames clashed against the ominous vermillion fire that surrounded the other phoenix. Luce felt Nell’s fingers tighten around her own and together they picked up the chalice, the magic coursing between them.

Luce could feel the wards glow, the paper Rio had drawn them on smoldering away to nothing until the burning runes were etched into the earth. And as Nell’s magic funneled into the chalice, Luce nearly let out a gasp as… the embers within her began to stir. The flames were weak, nonexistent. But the connection, the magic, it was there. For the first time in six months, she could feel the magic that had forsaken her. She reached for it cautiously, her spirit fanning the flame as carefully as she could to try and coax the spark back to life. “We’re the same.” Luce echoed as she stared at the phoenix held by Leah’s flames. She could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that was seared into his soul. As he strained against Leah, she knew she had been right. He wasn’t afraid of them, but of himself.

“You’re not alone.” Luce said, her voice rising as she let the magic flow through her fingertips into the chalice. The mixture continued to smoke and smolder and she knew that fire should be burning from the cup. But the flames wouldn’t come. No matter how hard she tried. “You’re not alone! We just want to help. Please, let us help you!” She called to the phoenix. Take our help, let me help, do what I never did, please.

Pain ran through Bernard’s body as the flames that weren’t his own burned around him-- frustration, rage, fear, they mixed together within him, the only thing he’d known for the past… how long? How long had he been like this? Days? Weeks? Months? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. He remembered erupting from the earth, tearing away from that cursed echoing place as fast as he could. It was a blur of fire and flames and pain and blood. And the voice, the voice, it followed him everywhere he ran. Whispering sometimes, shouting at others. All it wanted was for the world to burn. And he was powerless to it. People, animals, all who were caught in his path, they… crumbled to nothing. And all he could do was shriek in agony as his own cursed flames continued to burn. He couldn’t stop them, was powerless to the darkness that ran rampant within his body. The voice that wasn’t his own rang in his mind through all hours of the day, screaming at him to burn this place to the ground. It was the voice he’d fled from when he’d first awoken in this new body, the voice that still chased him.

And even now, it was shrieking at him. Burn the girl, burn them all, cast their bones to ash, let the flames consume this town. Let all become fire, let all become ruin.

But, a different voice-- the first voice he’d heard that wasn’t a strangled scream-- it made its way to his ear. “We’re the same.” A soft voice, whispering, pleading, “You’re not alone.” Fighting every instinct in his body, Bernard was able to tilt his head in the barest of nods. He did his best to regain control over the fire that raged around his body, to fight the voice within him. “Help me, help me.” He whispered to the woman whose arms were wrapped around him, “End-- end this.”

As the man struggled and strained against Leah’s hold, it began to feel hopeless. Already exhausted from their run through the forest, she knew she couldn’t hold onto him for much longer. And with no one else there able to withstand the flames, she wondered, briefly, if it had been a mistake for Luce to ask her for help, at least with this part. She was never strong- always swift and agile and smart. Perhaps Alfie would have been better for something like this. But then, he seemed to respond. A hint of a nod was all it took for Leah to gain her confidence back. This was working, and they were going to fix this. Together. She was not alone.  Carefully, she unwrapped her arms around his body, instead, choosing to hold his forearms for guidance. Gently, she guided him onto the pyre. Though he still seemed to struggle, it was a lot easier to guide him up than it had been to hold him in place. She wondered if he was fighting too, now. Somewhere deep inside. She noticed the chalice shared between Nell and Luce, smoking and smoldering and beckoning to help. “I know it’s hard”, she said again, more firm this time. “But we think this will fix it. You have to try and drink this, okay? Drinking it will help. We’re going to help you get better, but first you have to drink it.” She continued to whisper these affirmations in his ear, willing him to continue to fight through the flames. “We’re all here to help you.”

Nell could feel the moment her sister’s magic sputtered into existence. She’d be able to recognize her sister’s magic anywhere. Such was the bond of countless spells done as one in their youth, and the few they’d done together in the last year and a half. It felt like someone waving her home from the front porch, far more comforting than something as tangible as physical touch could ever achieve. This was the two of them truly coming together as one for the sake of another. For the sake of her sister. For the sake of the phoenix in Leah’s arms. “We’re gonna make it,” Nell told Luce, giving her the words she too needed to hear the most. There was an end, and they’d found it. They were so close. So close to that win. So close to doing something good. Just let the past die, and then Luce could be free.

Luce watched as the phoenix allowed himself to be brought towards the pyre she’d built in the center of the glowing runes. His flames licked at the wood, straining to ignite the wooden structure. She could feel the heat of it from here-- she couldn’t let Nell get any closer, not when the flames were this hot. Nell didn’t have the same resilience she did. “We’re gonna do this. But I’m not letting you get hurt.” Luce said. “Step back, Nellie, please.I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you-- without any of you,” She said looking to Rio, to Morgan, even to Leah. “But I’ve gotta do this.” With that, she pulled the chalice gently from Nell’s hands, and followed Leah and the phoenix up the pyre. And as the phoenix’s cursed flames began to consume the wood, Luce took a deep breath and followed.

“Leah, you should back up. I don’t know what the wards might do if there are two phoenixes here.” Luce said as she held the chalice up, hands shaking slightly. The silver cup was still smoking, but she could feel the energy thrumming inside her. She could feel her magic lying in wait, but for what? She was trying so hard, the need to draw upon the magic was almost overwhelming. The flames were searing, painful in a way that fire had never felt for her. Not since she was a child, before she’d fully gained control of her magic. Luce swallowed as she stood next to the phoenix and, as she lifted the silver cup to his mouth, she saw him for the first time. Dark black eyes stared at her in desperation, the irises ringed in glowing red flames like the sun during an eclipse. Those eyes stared at her, consumed by fear and anguish and then-- a flicker, something dark flashed over his face. A tongue of flame shot from the phoenix’s body and curled around her left arm and Luce let out a scream of pain as the fire sizzled against her flesh. Agony shot up through her and her grip on the chalice loosened as she stumbled backwards, the flame retreating back to the phoenix’s body.

“We’re going to help you.” Luce panted, her fingers wrapping around the cup once more. “You’re not alone. This isn’t you and this,” She gasped in pain, the searing sensation still present within her, “This isn’t the end. You’re not alone.” Luce said. As she spoke, the burning heat grew within her. And that was when it hit her. The warmth was familiar. “Benim alevlerim.” She breathed and watched as the chalice blossomed with blue flames. “Drink. Please, drink.” Luce said and pressed the cup against the phoenix’s lips, tipping it back before staggering down the burning pyre. She retreated to where the others stood safely at the edge of the wards to wait and to watch.

Bernard drank. And for a moment, nothing changed. These people they’d tried, they’d failed. And he would be-- his eyes flicked open as the pain mounted to new, unimaginable heights. It felt as though he’d swallowed the sun, that the light was burning him from the inside out. The voice that had shouted at him, it was screaming again. But now, it screamed in pain, agony, as the sun continued to burn. His mouth opened to scream but all that escaped was a plume of blue flame. Instinctively, he shut his mouth and curled in on himself, hugging his burning body. Meanwhile, the blue flames crawling over his skin, over the pyre, overwhelming the cursed red flames. For a long moment, pain was all that filled Bernard’s mind. And then, there was nothing at all.

Things seemed to be going to plan. At least, Orion hoped that they were. None of the actual spell experts seemed to be freaking out, so Rio had mostly taken that as a good sign and held back. He silently observed, a worried line drawn across his face. The concern only grew as the Leah showed up with the Phoenix. Up until now, everything that Rio had witnessed had just been preparation. With the phoenix here, the true spell began. He stood just on the edge of the wards they had constructed, nervously fiddling with his fingers to keep himself still. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Luce and the phoenix. Even from back here, Rio could feel the rise in temperature associated with the phoenixes flames. He pressed against his skin, warning of the heat. How could Luce handle being that close to it? His entire body tensed as the flame surged towards Luce. He almost jolted forward, but stopped himself at the last second. She was trying to get away. He needed to trust that Luce knew better for this than he did and let her do what needed to be done.Flames seemed to be consuming him, a bright, glowing red that made Rio clench at his heart. It looked so incredibly painful. “Oh my god.” He muttered, mostly to himself. If tears poured down Rio’s face he did nothing to stop them, he could only stare at the scene as the man screamed, only for blue flames to erupt. That blue soon took over the red, covering every inch of the man and becoming too bright for Rio to stare at any longer. He covered his eyes, glancing away from the scene in fear that he would go blind completely.

Luce was right, and Leah stepped out of the circle, toward Rio and Morgan. She switched out of her flame state in the process, and found a safe space behind her friends while still holding a good view of the action at the pyre. She couldn’t take her eyes off of everything that was going on, not even if she tried. She could see the pain inside the phoenix, almost as if she were sensing it within her heart. His flames, red and unnatural, looked like an illness that needed to be cured. How she wished she could run back in and hold him again. The flames seemed never ending but not at all stable; all encompassing but not all warm. And with the eruption of more and more of them, Leah was worried if too much damage had already been done. She couldn’t look away, but her heart was begging her to.

For a while, it seemed as though the fire would never end. It looked as though the flames would continue to spiral and battle against one another, locked in a continuous battle until the pyre that fueled the blaze crumpled to ash. But, Luce watched as her blue flames over took the phoenix’s own iridescent fire and then… She let out a gasp as the man sank to his knees and then crumpled to the ground. The fire continued to rage around him, consuming the wooden pyre. Meanwhile, the runes that formed the wards continued to glow, the lines brilliant and blue. Just the same shade as her flames. And then, almost as quickly as it had started-- the flames burnt out. In their place was nothing but a pile of ash.

Blinking in the sudden darkness, Luce held up her uninjured hand and reached tentatively for the magic. But her fears were unfounded, as vibrant blue flame jumped to the palm of her hand. “Is he… Do you think he’s alright?” She asked the others, voice hoarse from the smoke she’d inhaled.

There was little Nell could do as she watched her sister dive into the flames along with the phoenix, and she couldn’t help the protective step she made towards the center of the circle while the fire sizzled around Luce’s arm. It wasn’t unheard of for the Vurals to throw themselves into the center of an inferno for their sisters, but the more rational voice in her head quelled the emotional response, reminding her that she wouldn’t so much as get within a few feet of Luce before burning to a crisp. And what help would that be? Nell would be incinerated, the wards would fall, and Luce and the phoenix would be worse off than when this had started. Nell filled her now empty hand with Leah’s no longer flaming one, the familiar warmth of a fire being granting her another form of comfort.

The wards stayed strong as Nell kept the flow of her magic constant, using her worry of Luce to fuel the glowing runes. After all, that stemmed from love as well, and thus it would rightly serve the spell. Finally the flames subsided, and Nell was free to move forwards after watching the phoenix fall to ash on the ground. Just as any phoenix would at the end of their lifecycle. It had killed him? This was the cleansing that he’d needed? Death? Surely there were less permanent ways to purify? But death was anything but permanent for a phoenix. Or at least...it was meant to be. They hadn’t actually killed him, had they? “I…” This couldn’t be the result of all their efforts— all of Luce’s efforts. She’d needed to do something good, something that helped the phoenix, not end its cycle. “Wait- I think- is it moving?” Or had it only been her hopeful eye that thought she spotted a sign of life beneath the gray?

While the explosion of bright blue and radioactive red flames was all encompassing, the silence and emptiness that followed their burnout was even more-so. Leah looked between her friends, first to Nell, who’s hand she gave a tight squeeze back, then to Rio and Morgan, and finally to Luce. Luce, who had worked so hard to save the phoenix- ...she didn’t want to disappoint her. But in Leah’s experience, a pile of ash only meant one thing. She looked down at what was left of the phoenix, his ashes still and unmoving. Perhaps this was what was meant to happen all along. The ritual was meant to get rid of the illness- did it presume that the only way to rid one of corruption was through… death? It seemed too morbid. Too unfair. Tears filled her eyes as she looked back to Luce, ready to break the news to her. It wouldn’t be fair to get her hopes up if there was none to have. “I think...he might be d-”, but she stopped, interrupted by Nell’s observation. Her eyes shot back to the pile of ashes, sensing the tiniest pile of movement for herself. “Wait, -what?”

The scent of ash filled Bernard’s lungs as he shifted among the dust and debris. His fingers curled around the fine grains of dust and he began to crawl out from under the pile, his head emerging. He was covered in soot, his body ached, and he felt so, so cold. But, the world was blissfully, wonderfully silent. His mind was silent. The voice that had echoed in his head had been burned clean and now… Now he was whole again. Exhaustion and relief washed over him in equal measure and Bernard was able to lift his head up for a brief moment to take in the small cluster of people staring at him. He offered a weak smile before his eyes rolled back up into his head and he collapsed, unconscious once more. 

Morgan had watched the proceedings in petrified silence. She understood how badly Luce needed this and as she huddled closer between Leah and Rio, she started to accept that she might need this too. There was so much suffering on this miserable rock of a planet and so much that couldn’t be helped no matter how much money or good vibes you threw out there. But maybe this could be different. Maybe this one witch and this one broken bird could do better for a little while. She stared at the clump of ash on the ground, bracing herself for the worst. “Leah, don’t…” she whispered. If this was another cosmic fuck you, Luce wouldn’t need to be told. And then he moved.

“Shit, Nell’s right. He’s moving, she’s right!” She grabbed Leah, squeezing tight and looked at Luce. Whatever she was holding against the witch didn’t matter just then. There was only relief and understanding. “Guess you’re better than you thought after all,” she said. “So, who’s helping to carry Mr. Firebird? I don’t think he’ll like his feet dragging on the ground if I lift him by myself.”

Seeing the shift in the pile of ashes finally let Orion take a breath of relief that seemed to be shared by everyone in the group. This hasn’t been in vain. It had been dangerous, and exhausting and at times even seemed a bit hopeless. But when the pile of ashes shifted and everyone’s gone shifted from solemn to overwhelming relief, it all seemed worth it. “Holy crap.” Rio breathed, too giddy to stay still. He bounced on his feet, still a bit apprehensive to move anywhere in case the spell wasn’t completely finished. But Morgan spoke first, suggesting they carry the man away from the spell site and back towards civilization. If she was confirming it, then that meant that it was done. “We really did it.” Rio spoke again aloud, not trying to hide the surprise. “You really did it.” He repeated, directed towards Luce this time. Maybe it had been a time effort, but she had gotten the ball rolling. And from the looks of it, she had paid a price. “I’ll help carry him. Someone should help Luce too.”

Time seemed to slow as Luce stared at the pile of ash, unblinking. Waiting. Had she killed someone else? Had all of her effort and time and energy and intention meant nothing? Had she taken another life, an innocent life? An eternity stretched on as she stared at the pile. And then. Relief. Luce felt her legs buckle as the man lifted his head from the ashes and stared at them, his face illuminated in the glowing flames that rose from her hand. Normal eyes, no longer ringed in fire. Her blue flames sputtered and went out as Luce sank to the ground next to Nell, her hand still clutched in her sisters. She let out a shaking, shuddering breath as she sat on the ground. They’d done it. The ritual had worked. He was okay. And somehow, in the midst of it all, her magic was back.

“Holy shit. We did it.” She breathed as she glanced up at the others. “Thank you… All of you guys. This wouldn’t… None of it could have happened without you. Thank you.” She murmured. Her entire body ached, she felt absolutely drained, and her arm was filled with a burning pain she hadn’t felt since she was a little girl, but none of it mattered right now. She’d done it. They’d done it.