“Ashley…”

 

Ash didn’t know where he was; he didn’t know who he was.

 

“Don’t worry…I’ll never leave you, Ashley…”

 

He didn’t know anything, but he knew someone was behind him. He knew he sat atop someone’s lap- Cradling him, their perfectly painted nails wrapped around his waist; a knife in their right hand, a balled up tissue smeared with black, inky mascara in the other.

 

“You’re my baby girl, afterall…”

 

Ash didn’t know a single thing about the world; Ash didn’t know a single thing about himself; Ash didn’t know a single thing about the person behind him. All Ash knew, was that he could feel something cold and sharp pinching the front of his neck; just beneath his chin, right where it could kill him. Ash was certain, that his life as he knew it to that point, was about to end.

 

“Do you think we’ll get what we’re owed…in our next life…?”

 

How could Ash possibly know such an answer, when he knew nothing. How could Ash answer such a question, when he was nothing.

 

“You’re my baby girl…Right, Ashley…?”

 

I’m your ⚥♁⛤✫🟌♊

 

“You’re…mine…”

 

…….

Ash’s body jolted him awake. Shocks of adrenaline and aches of pain drew immediate beads of distress from his forehead. They were cold; they were clammy; they slid down his brows and collected in salty, stinging pools in the corners of his eyes.

 

Where was he? A hospital bed? No, just a normal bed, in a, seemingly, normal room. A collection of gauze and compression wraps sat on the nightstand beside him, along with a small, tin pan of water- It’s surface sparkling as if it were dressed with glitter.

 

In the room’s corner directly opposite from him, there was a dresser- Tall and ornate; numerous unlit candles adorning its surface.

 

In the corner parallel to it sat Rose- Sleeping uncomfortably in an old, dusty recliner; the dingy thing certainly having seen better days. Her sword rested on the floor beside her, and all her armor had been stripped to provide a comfortable and relaxing slumber.

 

Through the window above his bed, the cool light of the moon danced in to paint a spotlight upon him. That smiling crescent- Always grinning, always watching. He wondered when the moon’s phase would finally begin to change, or if it simply didn’t do such a thing here in OtherWorld.

 

Crickets seranded from what felt like, at least, two stories below- Their song repetitive and bland.

 

Ash gently removed the thick cover holding him. He could feel his wounds aching and throbbing with every stretch of his flesh. The battle to sit up threatened to knock him out. Still, he was alive; a fortunate miracle given the damage he had sustained.

 

It was all too reminiscent of that day: The day after he was struck free from his mortal coil by an incompetent driver and her trusty steed. He wondered if he should consider himself lucky- Having escaped death twice in the span of only one month. Then again, wasn’t that always his history with the elusive mistress? Always knocking on his door, ringing his line, but never inviting herself in. It was as if she were waiting for him to give the ok, to take the plunge into her arms.

 

But he vowed to never think such things ever again. For the sake of the only one who would miss him- That drooling knight in the chair over yonder, Ash made the promise: To keep playing the game, to hope it never lost its luster; lest the sins of the past repeat themselves.

 

The wraps constricting his torso were damp and sticky. The smell they emitted was slightly sweet, like a flower’s nectar had been slowly boiled into the water dousing them. 

 

There wasn’t much point in trying to rise, or do anything involving movement. Resting his head against his firm pillow, Ash resigned himself to staring at the ceiling- A pastime he was quite familiar with, given all the moments where motivation left his body to do much of anything.

 

Interestingly enough, though the room he appeared to be in was nothing more than an ordinary bedroom, the ceiling was painted with a grand tapestry akin to a monastery’s.

 

The tale it depicted was lost on the young man, for he was an outsider to the world’s mythos; all of its legends being nothing more than scribbles on a wall.

 

But they were still quite marvelous shapes to behold.

 

Certain areas depicted, what appeared to be, Shadowy hands writhing in a sea of monsters- All of different shapes, all of different makes, all looking like twisted animals. The outer edges where the tapestry met with the walls showed smaller tales of men hunting with spears in hand, farming the land, or conversing with some of the monsters. 

 

The center had to be the most eye-catching part of the piece: A circular structure, like a mandala with a story to tell.

 

Going around the outer layer counter clockwise depicted a dragon- One with twisted black horns and a wicked smile, emerging from the Shadowy pit of hands. The dragon stood amongst a collection of other monsters, all appearing small beside its marvelous stature. Going farther around the circle showed the Shadowy pits from before bending and twisting into new shapes. Some became trees, others became rocks, a massive collection became the sky.

 

As the scene grew brighter and brighter, the Shadows transmuting into more recognizable images, the brightest section depicted what could only be: A massive, white, butterfly- Its wings patterned with golden eyes; the flapping things radiating a halo outward from the creature in all hues.

 

The next ring within the mandala was simply a depiction of the dragon- The beast’s mouth agape as it chased the tail of the butterfly. As the scene ran clockwise, arriving at the dragon’s tail revealed the butterfly’s light to be burning it away. The smaller ring within the ring told the story in reverse, with the butterfly’s tail being consumed by Shadows.

 

The final piece of art within the circle’s center was the painting of a mountain- A shining orb of light peeking from its apex. The mountain sat in a field of trees, under a peaceful, blue sky.

 

An interesting tale, though not one which held much meaning to the dark cleric. He would have to visit a library at some point; study up on the world’s lore. For now, he would simply keep his eyes busy with the dancing shadows on the ceiling, and the twinkling stars in the sky.

 

…….

A warm cup of tea in one hand, her old decrepit copy of Blades Of Grass in the other- The golden knight Lancelot, was enjoying a quiet night in the middle of Noweir.

 

The chirping of the crickets, the crackle of the fireplace, the soothing liquid coating her throat; finally finding a bit of peace within herself, the ever-fighting knight enjoyed the blacklit tranquility of the hours-between-days.

 

The door to her cabin opened with a creaky groan. Master Aellius, that old man of snowy hair and scarlet eyes, stepped through from the chill of night. He brushed the leaves from his boots- The damp things clinging desperately from the wet of a soft drizzle.

 

“How was your walk?” Lancelot asked him, sipping gingerly from her tea; her eyes not lifting from the story in her pages.

 

“Cold and delightful.” the old man praised, “Moon felt great tonight.”

 

He removed his midnight stroll attire; undressing from his wispy coat and age-worn cap. His feet were killing him, their fibers having lost their youth centuries ago. The decrepit old man took his place on the sofa across from Lancelot’s recliner, watching the woman rock and sway as she enjoyed her sinless pleasure.

 

“What are you still doing up?” he asked her.

 

“Just reliving the tales of old.” she replied, setting her cup down to flip the page, “It starts getting good at this part, so I couldn’t put it down.”

 

“You must’ve read that book at least a hundred times. Hows about we add something new to your collection tomorrow?”

 

“Ridiculous.” Lancelot replied, still lost in the world of escapism, “I’d never have the time to get into anything new.”

 

The old man scoffed; ah the backwards nature of youth. “You're as restless as the undead.” he criticized, kicking his feet up to get a little more comfortable, “I’m surprised to even see you sitting the Hell down.”

 

“That’s not funny.” A burning glare, two Suns radiating with an eternal light, burned old Aellius; he could only chuckle.

 

“So, word from the birds is you’ve got yourself a little ‘appointment’ set up tomorrow.” he addressed,  “Gonna rescue a couple of strays?”

 

“Don’t call them that, it hits close.”

 

“Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?”

 

“As fast as the Devil’s plots boil to the top of her mind. Let’s not forget I’m in a race against time here.”

 

Master Aellius sighed. Even at her age, it was still like talking to a child. “Right, your ‘Devil’ that you're so afraid of.”

 

The clasping shut of Lancelot’s book boomed through the room. “I am not afraid of her!” she yelled.

 

Master Aellius shot his pupil a quick and stern leer. “Lower your voice.” he growled.

 

The golden woman sunk back into her chair. “I’m not afraid of her, Master…I just…I just know she’s out there planning her next move. I want to stop her, I-”

 

“You’re determined to, right?”

 

“...”

 

A sigh escaped the old man’s cold lips; he rose from his sloth.

 

“Just remember what I told you.” he said, glaring through his student with gleaming red eyes- Eyes she couldn’t help but look away from whenever they were weaponized against her, “Those girls are people, they’re human. Just like you’re a person, just like you’re human. This resolve for which you were chosen, don’t let it swallow you whole. I’ve seen faaaar too many fools who have taken up that sword plunge themselves, those closest to them, and even the world into deeper Hells, all because they were ‘determined’. And I will not let it happen again…Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Crystal…” Lancelot mumbled, keeping her gaze to the candles beside her. 

 

Master Aellius stood on his chilly feet- Pale appendages attached to pale limbs; lugging around a pale soul. “Now,” he continued, “What about you? Are you gonna be joining in on this new cycle? Or is it finally time for Lancelot to pass along her sword and leave it to the next generation?”

 

A single hand clenched in righteous fury, gripping itself ever harder; threatening to undo its stitches. “What kind of question is that…?” the ever-warring Celestial spat through gritted teeth.

 

“If that’s the case, then it’s time you considered taking a trip up north to Crisis. I’ve got a buddy up there who does automail- Real heavy-duty stuff. She could get that leg taken care of for you.”

 

Lancelot's gaze fell to her stump; the ghastly reminder of her failure, and far from the only thing she lost on that cursed day.

 

Master Aellius’s icy hand disheveled the woman’s hair as he prepared to retire for the night. “Tomorrow, we’re getting you some new books; whether you like it or not. They’ll help remind you of your ‘limitations’. You’re still human, that’s a piece of you nothing can take away. I can still see it in your eyes. Never lose it-Ever.”

 

And with that, the old man shuffled down the hall, disappearing into his room of shadows and secrets.

 

Lancelot held her sight towards the hallway for a moment. Cold, empty, only lit by the dim orange glow of the fire's light. She felt she could see shapes in the veil, forms of regret and longing; of defeat and anguish.

 

“Steady yourself…” she whispered to the only one who could hear her, “Steel yourself. Breathe in…Breathe out…”

 

Such an age-old trick; one learned from the second woman she ever called “mother”. A technique to calm the mind, to retreat to that happier place within oneself.

 

Her hands trembled, they shivered, only a little. Her teacup rattled as she lifted its warm relief to her lips, hoping to find salvation in the boiled leaves and mint.

 

The cup went up, blocking her eyesight from the fireplace before her. When it fell, a ghostly image stood before the flames to taunt her.

 

The lifeless apparition simply stared at her; looking down on her, its eyes sad, cold, and distant.

 

Lancelot could only stare back. The tea beneath her nose sent her mind into a flurry, drawing tears in its panic. “Verdant Spearmint was your blend…” she apologized.

 

Her remaining sip threatened to spill as her shakes grew more violent, more desperate. Before a mess could be made, she slammed the cup down on the plate beside her, dressing the beautiful piece of china with a nice, deep crack.

 

“I’m sorry…” she lamented to the haunting visitor, though it had no words to give back to her. 

 

The sweet goodnight grew bitter; a moment’s respite transformed into an eternal moment of agony. “I’m sorry…” was all the golden woman could repeat through quiet sobs, burying her face in her hands; letting the cold, lonely night, consume her. 

 

…….

Ash stood in the void; his void- An oddly welcomed sight after having not seen it since his touchdown in OtherWorld. 

 

A blank emptiness, devoid of feeling, devoid of emotion, devoid of anything; It was no shocker that such a place existed within him. Twas the perfect expression of his inner self; null.

 

Fortunately, such a place didn’t have to be so doom and gloom. Thanks to that self within himself that was not himself; whose company he actually didn’t mind as much as he first did.

 

Not having much else to do in his state of conscious-unconsciousness, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to the Devil sleeping inside him.

 

The void echoed with his voice, returning no response, summoning no such visage.

 

He yelled again, a little more confused this time. Still, nothing.

 

Why was he here? No Luci, no purpose, what was the point of being in the void? This had always been a place of communion between two dark minds; yet, one essential piece was missing. Effectively, the room had lost half its reason for being. Ash called out again.

 

This time, voices echoed back through the darkness; voices which were not his own. Childish, there were two of them; laughing, they were of a boy and a girl.

 

And they were on his right- As if the concept of direction mattered in an infinitely inconceivable space, lacking concrete form. Nevertheless, he could tell the voices were strongest to his right, and, as he turned to face them, his void shifted with the flick of his hair.

 

For just a moment, the young man saw through both of his eyes- A rare occurrence with his new hairstyle offering a forever-blinded view of the world.

 

Both eyes gazed upon a somber city scene, but not like the cities he knew. The buildings were erected from stone: Tan, gray, and not a steel beam in sight. The streets were also stone- Intricate patterns of multi-colored bricks, leading the way down boulevards and avenues.

 

Hehehe~

 

Shhhh!!

 

There were the voices again. They sounded so close, like little gremlins camping around a corner, peeking at the strange man losing himself in such a disorienting experience.

 

In fact, that’s exactly what they were. Ash whipped his head around to catch the little goblins in the act. All he gleaned was a torn dress of rags blowing in the wind as the two munchkins fled from his sight.

 

If it was a game of tag, then Ash was happy to oblige. He began his chase of the two mysterious children, whirling and weaving around corners as they attempted to lose him in the maze of an empty city.

 

As he turned his last corner, he caught the tail-end of the same dress disappearing behind a closed door about twelve houses down.

 

He didn’t know what; he didn’t know why, but a certain pressure choked his heart as he approached the door. 

 

Eleven houses down, the pain felt like minor heartburn.

 

Nine houses down, a sharp needle shooting through a ventricle.

 

Five houses down, crushing distress begging him to turn back.

 

Only a house away, his legs felt as though they would betray him.

 

Standing before the door, standing before the door was a sensation he couldn’t put into words. His body, his mind, his very soul, the entire trinity of his being fought back against him; pleading with him to not reach for the handle.

 

Just as morbid curiosity pushed him to engage with his own reflection when it first spoke to him; just as it spurred him on to make a deal with the Devil in the hopes of escaping his doldrum; once again, Ash’s curious self would lead him astray. With every part of him screaming no, whatever was behind the door certainly wouldn’t be rainbows and candy.

 

His hand hovered, just above the doorknob. An electric tingle buzzed through his fingers as they got closer and closer to the rusty metal. 

 

“DON’T OPEN THAT DOoOoOR!!!!” 

 

Luci’s screech, a ripple of pain he never once heard escape from the mouth of the Demon before, rang off the dead walls of the ghost town around them; more terrifying than a demon’s howl through Hell.

 

A blank stare, dead and lifeless, it was as if the young woman had been possessed; losing herself in a trance Ash could not see.

 

He could only stare in horror at his dark twin, mere houses away from him, not a light on in her head.

 

A single tear streamed from her sole eye- A liquid reveal of deeper secrets, running down her chin, breaking free and escaping into the wide, cruel world. The sensation of it trickling and tickling down her cheek woke the girl back from her daze. She swiped at it, quickly banishing even the slightest idea that Luci, the Revered Devil, could ever express such distasteful human emotion. 

 

The scene around them returned to the blood-hot comfort of velvet carpets and bookshelves. They were back in the Mind Palace, and Luci wasted no time in covering up whatever the Hell just happened.

 

Ensuring the last of her sorrows were cleaned from her royal face, the young Demon made a quick return to character, donning her mask, playing her role.

 

“W-what are you doing here, peasant?!” she spat.

 

Ash simply stared at her, his hand still poised to grab the doorknob existing only moments ago.

 

“How utterly unmannered can you be, bursting in on a woman without so much as even announcing yourself?! I demand an apology, forthwith! Go on, on your knees!”

 

Ash could only stare…

 

Until he finally found the words. “Umm…Excuse me…” 

 

“If it’s not an ‘I’m sorry’ then don’t say it!”

 

“I’m sorry. Now, what the fuck? What the Hell was that…?”

 

The Devil remained silent; She remained hidden. 

 

“Luci…”

 

“Don’t…don’t say ‘Luci’ like that…It was nothing worth your concern, and it was nothing worth our time…You were just snooping where you weren’t supposed to…Besides,”

 

Luci crossed her arms, guarding herself; from who, from what, maybe from herself- He was staring back at her, afterall. “You’ve got some secrets too…don’t you…? I’m not asking about yours…so, please…don’t ask about mine…”

 

Secrets? Ash stepped closer to his reflection. He only intended to close the gap, to clear the air, but his reflection recoiled from his advance. The look in her eyes said “Please don’t”, and for the life of him, Ash didn’t understand why; he couldn’t understand why.

 

But he wanted to. “I don’t have any secrets…” he assured himself, “I don’t have anything worth keeping in the dark…” he convinced himself.

 

Luci winced at the sight of such a mirror standing before her. It was truly unsightly, truly dreadful. “Like I said…I won’t talk about what I saw…So let’s drop it and move on. We’ve got a quest to complete...”

 

For the first time since he stepped foot in the room, the Mind Palace felt cold and scary. Even his Blazing Tree, radiating so brightly against the back wall, couldn’t shine enough light to rend the darkness standing beside the bookshelf: The bookshelf, that was once a door.

 

…….

Sunlight beaming straight into his eyes greeted Ash as he rose from his slumber. He felt like he hadn’t slept a wink; his eyes still heavy, his muscles still sore.

 

“Yo, Ash!” 

 

In the corner of the room, munching on a turkey leg bigger than her arm, sat Rose- Seeming in quite good spirits. “Check this out! Huuuge right!? Bet I can take the whole thing without gagging!”

 

Not even a minute awake, and already with the shenanigans. 

 

“Your ‘sister’ is a riot.” said a cold, calm voice beside him.

 

Ash strained his aching neck to reveal the mystery person.

 

Her hair was a salty white; her right eye, glistening like beachside waters; her left, hidden behind drooping coils dominating her head. Her expression was stern, serious like a college professor; her scowl sharp and perceptive, her eye seeing through all.

 

“Those are some nice earrings you’ve got.” she continued, leaning against the wall where the tapestry ran down to depict a spire teaming with Angels, “Upside down cross, real powerful symbol. Makes me curious though, ‘Sean’.”

 

Though his mind knew the woman was nothing but trouble, he couldn’t convince his body to rise and fight for him. With Rose tamed and docile in the chair beyond immediate help, Ash accepted his situation. He would just have to play his cards right; choose his words carefully. 

“Makes me curious…On how you got them?”