#Lyrem-centric chapter

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 24

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-23 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Suicide attempt, swearing, drunken stupor. Lyrem needs his own content warnings, seriously.

This includes the FlashBackFever #1 from the Masterlist, but also contains valuable information regarding the plotline. This picks up directly after Chapter 22.

Dedicating this chapter to @myst-in-the-mirror for their wonderful name suggestion for the TimeWorm, Opus! Xx. 

-Alpaca.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN LYREM MET PAIMON

          “Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”

        “My essence was spared as a favor to Kronos, if you recall.” Lyrem sniffed and snarled. “Is this really the type of greeting I get for pet-sitting little Opus all those years ago?”

        “Ha! Did you think I would allow you the privilege of eternal life because you took care of Kronos’ Time-Worm for a few measly hours? Please.” Hades tutted amusedly. “Regardless, you’ve become quite a different man since then. I am not sure I would ever want the essence someone who murdered and then ate the heart of his own father… But at least your memories retain a certain value to me at this time.”

        The mark that Lyrem bore on his chest- the brand that Maria would always say looked like a wine glass carrying a single grape- well… it began to burn. Lyrem grimaced and seethed through his teeth as he felt the brand sear through him like a thousand small razors cutting beneath his chest. It was the same feeling as when he first received it.

        Slowly, the searing pain faded away, and Lyrem was able to straighten himself once again, and he touched his chest. The mark was gone.

        The warm scent of chai drifted over him. Hades was holding a large mug in his hands and he lifted it to his white bearded face. Lyrem studied the hulking God, unsure of his purpose here.

        “Perhaps I should apologize for acting so rashly. When I heard that you were coming to collect, I understandably panicked- you know Maria and I had only just bought the house together and I wasn’t ready to go yet.”-

        Hades smiled lightly as his head shook slowly. He sighed impatiently as Lyrem continued in his nervous frenzy-

        “I mean, now that I think back about it, I’m not sure I should have listened to Paimon when he told me what you wanted. He’s a demon. Does he even consort with your kind? I didn’t mean to be a nuisance for you – truly. I wasn’t fully aware of what I was agreeing to at the time you brought me back from the dead, anyways. That was all Kronos’ insistence. You remember. I was young and naïve, of course”-

        “It’s alright.” Hades hushed him unexpectedly. “Being stuck in one corner of a Labyrinth for thirty years is not really worth avenging in my book. To you humans, it’s akin to being stuck in a line-up for five extra minutes. Would you like a coffee? A tea perhaps? Persephone makes a wonderful chai from scratch, though the plants take a little while to grow first. This place… isn’t exactly kind to her.”

        Lyrem searched around. A small couch appeared behind him, a deep blue colour. Hades motioned for him to sit, and so he did. It would be foolish of him to refuse.

        “A… a coffee would be very much appreciated,” he finally answered. “Where is Persephone?”

        Hades sat across from him in his own chair and he cleared his throat.

        “She can only be seen by living souls. I, on the other hand, can only be witnessed by the dead. But we can still hear each other and create for each other, without any problems.”

        “Oh,” Lyrem nodded. “That must be…”

        Nice? Sad? Actually, Lyrem wouldn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t know how.

        “It’s annoying,” Persephone finished. “We can only ever see each other in our own realm. Our real realm- the one we created ourselves- and who knows what that creature is doing to it!”

        Hades tsked. “Persephone, that is not how you address family- whether they are with us or not.”

        He sipped his tea and allowed Lyrem to watch as his coffee materialized for him in a small ceramic cup. Rigidly, Lyrem sat there, unsure of whether to be comforted by the hospitality or suspicious of it.

        “Sorry it took so long,” Persephone apologized. “I haven’t grown a coffea in ages! I chose arabica for you, I hope that is fine.”

        “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Lyrem said. “I-I’m sorry, God Hades, may I please understand why I am here? You wanted Arthur to bring me here for a reason. Do you want me to release you from this place? Send you back to your proper realm?”

        “Ooh he’s a quick one,” She exclaimed, the sarcasm was not lost with the absence of her face. If she was visible, Lyrem would have seen her sit beside him on the couch. Instead, he only felt the pull of the upholstery dipping next to him.

        “Well, unfortunately, you cannot release us from this place. It’s not under your control.” Hades answered, causing Lyrem to be taken aback.

        “Yes, it is. You may have been able to co-opt it to your liking, but I can certainly…” Lyrem paused with a hand suspended. He pushed his hand around, almost playfully through the air. “Uh… Open… open a door…”

        Nothing happened. He brought his hand back down. It worked the last time he was here, dropping these two away in the hole. Of course, Paimon needed to help him at the time. Regardless, he was told he had control. Of course, why would he ever test it when a God who wanted his essence was trapped here? Paimon knew he wouldn’t try to release Hades. It would be a death sentence.

        “Perhaps, I am less powerful as a dead man,” Lyrem surmised.

        “Oh love, no,” Persephone coddled him in the effort to raise his spirits a little higher. “If anything, you should be more powerful than ever as a dead man. But those hearts you’ve been taking like vitamins? They do you less good than you think… You know, what, Uncle? I think he knew it too. I don’t think he wanted him to be strong.”

        Lyrem turned to her space for clarification. “I’m sorry, who knew what?”

        “My nephew, Pan,” Hades answered.

        “He’s always been a trouble maker,” Hades remarked. “This place is a little caged corner of his Labyrinth. I was not prepared for his increased strength as he transitioned to adulthood. It’s quite a solid construction. I have yet to devise a way out.

        It’s also why I needed you to die. Your soul is linked to me, not to the Underworld. And you are innately knowledgeable of Pan’s motivations. We needed to talk.”

        Lyrem sipped at his coffee, growing more and more confused by the moment.

        “I would honestly be quite impressed by Pan’s work if he wasn’t so notoriously cunning, and quite frankly, annoying about it. But that was always his way, you know.” Hades continued in a nostalgic fashion. “He would do all sorts of silly things- start music contests; him with his little flute, he loved that thing though I can’t remember the last time I saw him play it. He loved those little competitions- especially with family”-

        “Ohh. I remember when he came around Mount Olympus showing off the wood nymphs he caged”- Persephone shuddered. It could be felt more than seen. “He plucked off their wings and forced them to race, that creepy bastard”-

        “Persephone!”

        “I’m sorry. He was just so horrible sometimes.”

        “Who are we speaking about, again?”

        “Pan.” “Pan!”

        “Pan?” Lyrem shook his head, remembering his knowledge on classic Greek mythology. “…Isn’t the Great God Pan, dead?”

        The God and Goddess let out a mighty good chuckle, leaving Lyrem annoyed and confused, and off to the side.

        “Okay,” Persephone caught her breath. “That was a good prank; Convincing the world he was dead… Oh it never gets old. I can’t believe it stuck around this long. I guess it fits that he’s disguised as a spirit from a false religion now.”

        Lyrem stole looks from Hades to the empty space, and then back again in growing disbelief. Hades continued.

        “Pan is one of my nephews. A childlike God. And like all children, he grew bored with the course that his life was taking. In order to amuse himself, he began toying with the lives of innocent humans and facilitated humanity’s suffering on a massive scale. Played people against one another and started wars between great nations. He would place bets on who would win and he would become angry and spiteful when no one would bet against him. He stole children away from their families just to watch their reactions when they found the bodies- he would corrupt the most innocent to hurt at his command – what is more is he tortured people into taking their own lives- and the more he did these things, the easier it all became… I won’t blame his parents,” Hades nodded sympathetically to the ‘empty’ seat, “But he needed intervention a long time ago, desperately.”

        The tone had suddenly shifted to one of melancholy as Hades explained his nephew’s troubling past.

        “Trying to reason with him became more difficult and each time I tried to help him, he would push me away. Finally, being as resourceful and unbelievably stupid as he was, he swept my realm clean, leaving myself and Persephone locked in the equivalent of a closet in the void of the Underworld- that would be what he likes to call the ‘Labyrinth’.” With a shudder, Hades looked away, shamefully. “One powerful human who bears my mark and a few sacrificial hearts were all he needed to help him with that little task.”

        “Me…” Lyrem placed the pieces together slowly, his life flashing before him in a new light, a new context. “Are you saying, what I think you’re saying? Paimon… Paimon is Pan?!”

        Hades nodded.

        “He gave me a reason to fear you, and then he showed me how to trap you...” Lyrem reasoned. “I’ve known him for thirty-two years. How could I have not known this?”

        “Well, first of all, you certainly have a reason to fear me, I am the God of Death and I will still claim your essence one day.” Hades finished his drink, and the mug disappeared. “But I am slow to anger. Zeus would certainly have struck you down by now, and Poseidon has already put you on a list for that ridiculous prank with Perseus you pulled.”

        Hades chuckled softly. “It was quite funny though.”

        With widening eyes, Lyrem sat back, and tried to find what little was left of his honour and dignity with these Gods who spoke of his life like it was a mere sitcom for them to be entertained by.

        “This is ridiculous. Whether or not Paimon is Pan, I am a man who stands by those who are loyal to me,” Lyrem scoffed, “If you wish for me to betray him in any way at all, I shall simply refuse.”

        He sat up and crossed his arms like a petulant child, just begging for a scolding.

        Hades went silent, as well as Persephone.

        “He’s really not terribly bright, is he, Uncle?” Persephone whispered harshly. “It’s beside the point. We need to find Apollo! Let’s open up his mind again.”

        “What? No! Please, don’t”-

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

Beijing, China. 1989.

        “You will never know true love.”

        The Eastern Oracle looked up from the bowl of still water, perched atop the short table from where the three sat on the pillows and watched her client with interest. His dark brows were neatly knit together in a scowl and clearly disappointed. The client did not understand what she had spoken. She could tell.

        She glanced to the translator next and then looked back to the man who began to speak.

        “Oh…” he quietly accepted. “I see.”

        He swallowed. The incense smoke drifted up through the air, condensing their little area in a thin fog. The Oracle said something else in her native Cantonese; her tone rather insistent this time. Urgent, even. Lyrem could tell.

        The translator paused, then spoke: “she says that your fate was never to be loved, only to be respected. It is the only thing that matters to you.”

        Lyrem blinked. Respect was a value of his, yes- but the only thing that mattered to him?

        “But… love, true love…” he started feeling silly even before he uttered the words. “It exists?”

        The translator repeated his words and then the Oracle watched him carefully.

        “For you.” the Oracle spoke in Cantonese. Unfortunately, Lyrem was not well versed in the language at all. “Only for you does true love exist.”

        Lyrem glanced to the translator.

        “She says, ‘Only for very few, does true love exist.”

        He sighed. At least he wasn’t the only one, he thought. He stood up, paid the two in full, and bowed before making his exit.

        Thankfully, there was a local merchant of alcohol nearby. Lyrem stopped there first to buy himself a case of sake before returning to his hotel room. Eight floors up, he was.

        It would be quick and easy to find his way to the ground.

        He cracked open his first and played himself in a game of solitaire on the table by the window. Reflecting there on his last several weeks of hunting for a sacred stone in the Himalayas. It had already been delivered unto Cáishén, a Chinese god of wealth and prosperity several days before now. He wouldn’t get anything in return for his sweat, tears, and blood- only his clients would. At least they paid him well enough. But it had been several days since he returned from the peaks and Lyrem hadn’t bothered to book himself a flight back home to receive his cheque.

        At his second bottle, he ordered dinner up. It didn’t matter what was on the menu, but he was craving something richly flavoured and warm. Pork buns, he thought. They were often his favourite and would do well as a last meal. He had finished his second bottle before it was delivered.

        Yes, they smelled heavenly.

        And then he lost his appetite.

        He opened a third and flicked the bottle cap across the room- damn- he missed the trash bin.

        At some point, he had sat on the bed to read a paper he had picked up from a stall that day. It was mostly in English- except for the ads.

        President Bush signs $166-Billion-dollar corporate bailout, the article read.

        “Didn’t trek across the mountains for nothing then. You’re fucking welcome, everybody,” he muttered rudely to himself.

        He opened his fourth drank it, and then got up to take a long piss. He washed his face and ran a wet hand through his head of soft brown hair. His face still burned with the cold from an altitude he was not accustomed too- it left his cheeks pink and dry.

        The wind had pick up. The mustard yellow curtains flipped around wildly bringing in the stale scent of dust and inner-city smog along with it. Lyrem didn’t remember opening the door to the balcony- at least he hadn’t bothered to, yet.

        But now was a good a time as any… Wasn’t it?

        What was the point of living if not for love?

        He heard the rush of traffic below and the honking of horns, and then he tried to remember what the point of making any sound was, if no one cared for what you had to say. He flipped on the radio that was bolted into the side table. Tuned to a station catering to American music, it crackled through the middle of Hotel California with great effort.

        He stepped over the threshold and looked out across Beijing and their neon lights with his hands tightly gripped to each other behind his back. He sniffed and considered his next move.

        Hands forward, he gripped the railing tight.

                 He bit his lower lip as the lights blurred ahead of him.

                          He became angry with the Oracle, but only for a second.

                                   He lifted a leg and found his own perch.

        The sake had really done a good job of calming his nerves. Lyrem was actually quite surprised that he wasn’t more unstable. Perhaps that was the unique charm of the drink. Or perhaps a bit more adrenaline was pumping through his veins than he cared to realize.

        Lyrem held his breath at the edge of the railing, and then closed his eyes.

                                                     He tipped forward, welcoming the rush.

        He was caught. His eyes opened, and he was suspended in mid-air staring down at the busy street below. Life, he saw, flashing by… but not his own.

        He was lifted back by a pair of strong arms and then the savior let him fall to the floor with a sudden thump!

        “You sad, sorry bastard,” the voice of the saviour said. “You need help.”

        Perhaps a neighbour saw him attempt suicide, came to the rescue. But Lyrem could have sworn he locked his door- and he didn’t hear a soul break in. The guest sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against a cane to support himself on the way down.

        Lyrem grunted against the floor.

        “Go away,” he groaned out.

The guest rolled his eyes.

        “What is wrong with you?” he asked. Part of him may have been genuinely asking, but he didn’t wait for a response. “You have everything you could ever possibly desire in this world! How old are you? Forty? Maybe? You still have a long life ahead of you to do absolutely anything you want!

        Women! They ought to be climbing all over you- unless of course, the men are more your thing- I don’t mean to judge of course, love is love.”

        The guest continued on as Lyrem struggled to his knees.

        “Riches! You’ve got that! Wine, cocaine, parties, travelling the world? My man, you have yourself a slice of heaven on Earth! You’re like a bloody rock star!”

        Lyrem glared up at the black-bearded wonder sitting on his bed, in his room, who opened the fifth bottle of sake that was sitting next to him.

        The guest grimaced at the taste, but kept it balanced on his knee.

        “I guess, what I am really wondering,” he continued. “Is what the hell drives a man like you to the edge like this?”

        Lyrem struggled to stand, and leaned against the chair, slowly and shakily, he climbed into it, and then studied the stranger best he could. His eyes drifted away from him each time he tried to focus. He swallowed carefully. Feeling sick, he might not ever answer the man.

        “L-love. True love,” he managed.

        The stranger balked.

        “True love?!”

        “Fuck off.”

        Teetering on the edge of the bed, the stranger leaned forward.

        “It’s just so funny though, isn’t it? Love… you’d think a man like you could find it anywhere”-

        “I don’t want to find it just anywhere,” Lyrem reasoned, cradling his head into his hands. “I want it to be real. I want it to be true. I want it to be perfect.”

        “No love is real, or true, or perfect. It’s just… Love.”

        “Is that supposed to be encouraging?”

        “It’s supposed to snap you out of this depressive episode. It’s degrading. Just by looking at you, I want to throw myself off this balcony.”

        Lyrem scoffed, managed a smirk and looked up.

        “You’re an asshole.”

        “The name’s Paimon,” the stranger grinned. “And you’re right, I am an asshole- but I’m also exactly what you need.”

        Lyrem shifted his head back. He wasn’t a man with a variety of tastes. He preferred wom-

        “A demon,” he finished.

        “Pffffft.” Lyrem opened his mouth. “You think I need you? A demon?”

        “You’re human, aren’t you?”

        “Obviously.”

        “Then we were always meant to be.” Paimon surmised. “Listen, I know you’re a man of many talents, gained the favours of many gods, and many powerful human souls- I’ve been tracking you for quite some time.”

        Lyrem rolled his eyes up at the ceiling where watermarks dotted around in various sizes.

        “Here’s my proposal- and if you don’t like it, then you are free to fling yourself off the balcony again and this time, I won’t stop you”-

        “I don’t consort with demons. I have a rule about that,” Lyrem said, beginning to sober up at the mention of something more work related.

        “’course, you do,” Paimon winked at him. “But what if I told you that I could find you your true love? What if I could promise you that? What if I told you that all you would need to do is sit beside her on this flight”- He pulled a plane ticket from the inside of his jacket pocket. “-from Beijing to Lisbon, tomorrow afternoon?”

        Lyrem stared suspiciously from the ticket and then back to Paimon’s unearthly aura. He didn’t notice it until now.

        “This is a trick,” Lyrem stated. He then turned it to a question. “What do I do for you in return?”

        Paimon’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head.

        “Nothing at all,” Paimon could see that Lyrem knew he was bullshitting. “Alright. Here’s what I require in return: your… friendship.”

        Lyrem reached out, pulled the ticket from the demon’s hand and stood. Studying it in the light, it was real. It was the very same company he had traveled with to get to China about a month back.

        “If I don’t give you the true love that you desire,” Paimon proposed. “Then I will leave you in peace and never return.”

        “Still sounds like a trick.”

        “Some deals are just too good to pass up,” Paimon chortled. “Trust me, I know.”

        Lyrem took a deep breath. Paimon wanted his friendship in return for giving him true love? He scratched his chin, stubbled and dry. If he refused, the demon might only return one day when he was even more desperate- and Lyrem couldn’t exactly guarantee he would say no then and Paimon would almost certainly raise his expectations for him.

        “You have a deal,” Lyrem settled with nothing to lose. “Friendship it is. Name’s Lyrem.”

        Paimon smiled, knowing that the money he had spent to bribe the translator was well worth it, and clasped the man’s hand tight.

        “Lyrem… You won’t regret this,” he grinned through shining eyes.

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

Labyrinth Cage, present day.

        Lyrem lifted his head off the back of the couch that had supported him this time through a most unpleasant journey down memory lane.

        “… He lied.”

        Many years had passed since he had first travelled to China- and since then he had been hired to return enough times that he had to learn some basic Cantonese for himself.

        The Oracle had told him how to find Maria- not that he would’ve had to try very hard. There was a job, just off the coast of Portugal that he had been asked to do, not long after he had arrived in Lisbon. He thought it to be a simple coincidence at the time and nothing more.  The people who hired him to get it done probably had his plane ticket waiting at the front desk. He was just too self-absorbed to check in with them about it, but it was more likely that Paimon had gotten to it first.

        But… he understood now. The demon who he called a friend, wasn’t a demon at all.

        It was Pan. And Pan was playing him. He had been playing him from the very start.

        If he had heard the Oracle correctly the first time, he would have known that his true love would be found. He wouldn’t have drunk himself half to death and he wouldn’t have dangled himself off the balcony of his room. And if all of that was true- then he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to consort with something like him, demon or not. Paimon-Pan- wanted him desperate. Wanted Lyrem to need him. He needed Lyrem to see him as his one and only salvation.

        There, for when Maria couldn’t be.

        “I need to speak to him.”

        A firm hand pushed him back down in his seat. It was invisible, but strong.

        “He’ll annihilate you like an ant, Lyrem. Believe me, I’ve seen it many times. You’re not the first human he’s trained this way.” Persephone cooed, softly.

        “Trained?!” Lyrem repeated emphatically, insulted. “No, no… I just need to talk to him. He’s…”

        “-your friend?”

        Lyrem paled, and then swallowed.

        “Yes! Yes, he is! And when I speak with him, then… I’m sure everything will be explained”-

        He cut himself off. There was no reason for him to make excuses for Paimon. He lied to him, and he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

        “Arch is with him now. You don’t think he would hurt, Arch, do you?”

        Hades’ face became painted in concern for Lyrem and his friend’s well-being. He didn’t want to answer the poor man. Persephone interjected.

        “He also has one of my brothers- Apollo is trapped in our realm. We have to save him from Pan. I have no idea what he’ll do to him,” Persephone turned to Hades in urgency, though, neither Hades nor Lyrem would have known it. “Uncle, this whole time we’ve assumed that it was Maria who had a connection with Pan and therefore Apollo. But how likely is it that Apollo used Arch to send his call?”

        Hades lifted his eyebrows in consideration.

        “If this Arch is important to Lyrem and has a connection to Pan, then it is quite likely Apollo would find a way to use them.”

        “What’s his call for? Why are you searching for it in me? In my head?” Lyrem asked. “If you can explain to me what to look for then I might already know what it is. I could show it to you!”

        “And that could be enough to help you find him and release him,” the sound of Persephone’s smile resounded through her words. “Once Apollo is released from his prison, he could open a door into the Labyrinth instantly and release us.

        His call, it would have been something musical. Something special to you. Arch would have been present for it.”

        “A song playing then? Or maybe an earworm?” Lyrem suggested.

        Hades shuddered. “Oh, I don’t want to know what that looks like- if it’s anything like Opus and its iridescent coloured slime”-

        “I don’t think I recall any earworms… Wait…” Lyrem had a sudden stroke of genius; something bizarre that he had remembered ever since he had met Arch several months ago. “’Everyone knows City and Colour’.” He repeated Arch’s words slowly back to himself.

        “Cities and colours?,” Persephone questioned, "What do they have to do with this?”

        “It doesn’t have anything to do with this. However,” Lyrem refuted. A small smirk curled itself alongside his face. “I do believe Segovia might…”

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 20

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-19 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: swearing obvs, gore, body horror, implied mutilation, noncon touching (nonsexual), Arch centric chapter

Apologies in advance if there are any continuity errors or grammar issues I missed during edits. I’ve had quite the week and had less time than planned to sort this chapter out thoroughly. Xx.

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CHAPTER TWENTY: OH SHIT OH FUCK

        Paimon had moved them to a new area. It was quieter. Softer. Like their old bedroom, but more spacious.

         The door to the hall remained locked until Arch was regularly invited for dinner. There was no other food or snack available beside the human hearts that Paimon somehow provided them, and on the odd occasion where they weren’t feeling particularly interested in eating the organ, Paimon simply commanded them to.

        Their new room was quite large. The walls were still stone and the air was stiff and stale, but at least they had a large bed, and a full bathroom where they could finally shower the stink of the Depths of Despair from their body.

         A Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of high wasted denim pants laid neatly folded across the room on some shelves. The items, including the underwear looked as though it had been taken right out of their bedroom, only it was clean, and a lot less wrinkled than they would usually wear.

        They stepped out and dressed themselves, thankful to be out of that horrible purple monstrosity that Lyrem seemed to like more than anyone else.

        That world they had left seemed so far away now. What felt even farther were the memories of anything that had happened before Lyrem had hired them at Mystics. That felt like an age and a half ago.

        They were escorted from their room that evening to the dining hall by Paimon himself. He was the only one Arch had ever seen there, despite the suffering cries from other areas of the realm. Not a single other person passed them by- even when Arch was confined to the small cell.

        The dining table in the hall was massive; solid oak, stretching six feet wide and at least thirty feet long. Arch curiously counted it out at 25 paces, so there was only a brief estimate. And the two of them sat at the end, with Paimon at the head of the table and Arch just at their left. Their meals waited for them.

        This time, the heart had a small triangle of watermelon next to it.

        That was nice.

        “Lyrem taught me to make sparks with my hands,” they said. “I tried earlier, but nothing is working. I thought you said this heart business would make me stronger.”

        “You are stronger, but only when I allow it. I have control over everything you can do now. I don’t plan to give up that control anytime soon.” Paimon replied.

        “Why? Are you afraid I’ll burn your house down?” Arch joked, but Paimon didn’t smile, and so theirs faltered. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

        “I tend not to trust those that I take captive here.” He answered.

        Arch shook their head. “I’m beginning to see this place as a work retreat, more than a hostage situation.”

        “That’s very good. But I still don’t trust you.”

        “That’s probably fair. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

        There was a studious eye to Paimon for a moment before he began to eat alongside his guest.

        “You’re a very strange individual,” he said, “most humans I’ve encountered would have cowered and cried for days- weeks before accepting their fate. They would have grown disgusted at themselves for the acts they’ve committed. I must say, you don’t seem particularly disturbed by your situation.”

        Arch raised an eyebrow at him. Did Paimon want them to be disturbed?

        “Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left school counsellors and conversion therapy behind only to have to dine with Sigmund Freud in hell,” they remarked, eating a bite of the heart that was on their plate. “Lyrem gave me some speech once about the dignity in accepting one’s fate. Making the most out of a bad situation and what-not. I don’t really remember-

        But that’s all it is. I’m making the most of it. You want me to be powerful- and I want me to be powerful. Can’t we just be content with what we’ve got?”

        Paimon stared at them contemplating their words. As he nodded, he paused. Something in the air suddenly turned him sour.

His knife dropped to the table with a clink before his entire meal, everything, all vanished away. Turning his head, he growled. Arch leaned back, not sure what had gone wrong or what they had done to deserve such a reaction. Paimon pulled them up by the elbow, forcing them to drop their watermelon slice to the floor, and then dragged them around their chair, out into the hall.

        “Wh-what’s going on?” Arch winced as Paimon’s grip pierced into their arm once again to match the claw marks that now studded their shoulder. “Did I do something wrong?”

They reached the doorway to their room, and Paimon swung it open in a hurry. They tossed Arch inside and then slammed the door behind them.

“I- I’m really sorry if I did something wro”-

        Arch was crushed into the silence of their own room and Paimon stood outside, snarling. His black, shining antlers grew taller. Something was wrong. Something had happened on Earth.

        Lyrem was dead. He could feel it.

        He vanished from the hall without a moment more to lose, leaving Arch behind.

        They had hardly started eating their heart.

        Arch checked over their arm, wincing as they picked away at the bits of skin that he had torn into them. They rushed into their washroom and pulled out a damp cloth to tend to their wounds. They wrapped it around tightly, and pulled it taut. From outside, they heard a click and a creak.

        Peering out the door, Arch expected to see Paimon to have returned from rushing off. But there was no one there to see- only the slightest gap in the doorway that would welcome Arch into the hall. The hall’s echoes quieted. The usual cries of pain were no longer there, as if they had left with the demon himself. Arch was well aware that they had only just had a conversation about the fact that they wouldn’t be trusted. Maybe they should prove it. Maybe they should stay here.

        But there really wouldn’t be any harm in peeking around, would there? Just for a quick moment.

        Arch stepped out into the empty hall.

        “Paimon?” they called out. If he was here, then at least they did their due diligence and checked for him before wandering about.

        Arch filtered out of the door and to the right, staying close to the wall as if that would help them hide from any onlookers. Multitudes of rooms dotted the halls, and as Arch took a risk peering into each one, they realized that they may be the only soul around. Everything was empty, so far.

        They took a narrow set of stairs down. The halls were still lit sufficiently. The more Arch thought about continuing through the maze of halls and rooms, the more they wondered if it was a trick. A mean little trap to punish them for their insatiable curiosity.

        At this point, however, it couldn’t be helped. They were pretty damn lost.

        The lights along the walls flickered and Arch jumped at the shifting shadows along the wall. The light steadied once more, like the electricity was fighting to stay alive. They considered heading back to the stairs, but before they even turned around, the lights had gone out completely and left them in still darkness.

        “What…” Arch searched for anything they could to bring the light back. Paimon had said they controlled their power, but they still tried to make even the smallest spark with their fingers- anything to keep them calm. They didn’t like this darkness. It was threatening.

        Their light wouldn’t work. It didn’t work. Nothing worked.

        “Oh, shit,” they hissed under their breath.

        There was a guttural, unrecognizable sound off to the right. The voice of something… partially dead.  The lights flickered just a few times more, off the wall. Right beside them, Arch could see it- a humanoid creature, crawling on all fours, rotting and peeling flesh falling off of it- it approached, and Arch was frozen, against the wall.

         Oh, fuck.

        Its nose had fallen off, leaving a couple of gaping holes for the skull to shine through. Arch swallowed and tried to keep quiet as it passed by but the sob that they had choked back was just enough for the thing to turn on them with keen horrifying interest. It opened their mouth, and reached out with skeletal hands, intent on groping them. The sound it made was drowned out by Arch’s own scream as they bolted further through the hall, just in time for the lights to flicker out again. They were now running blindly, feeling for the walls and unwilling to look back in fear of the thing that would be following them.

        There was a corner. They felt the air reaching their fingers instead of the familiar bubbles of lava rock, and so they turned left. Two steps forward and then they tripped onto a staircase, smacking their nose against the rock. The blood poured out of their nose like a waterfall, but they were not going to bother to stop it now.

        A sharp, clawed hand grasped their legs, and they scrambled up to the nearest landing, kicking them as hard and fast as they could, only to feel more of the same spindly fingers reaching through their hair and onto their shoulders from the opposite direction. Arch screamed and cried out of fear, more than any pain. The grip of these creatures grew stronger, and became more intent on touching every part of this living human as they could.

        Arch’s legs grew tired first. There were too many hands on them. When they thought they had removed one pair, it felt like four more immediately latched onto them, each more unwilling to release them than the last.

        One wrist was pulled up, over their head while the other was pulled to the opposite side. Soon, they’d be flipped back on their stomach with no hope of surviving what would come next- and Arch had no clue what that might be.

        One sharp pull and they were forced to their side, losing strength, like it was seeping out of them only to be transferred to the groping, creeping creatures.

        “N-no!” They cursed themselves for the stupid idea that took them down this way. With their end in sight, Arch struggled limply. The gasping and wheezing of these things being the last thing they would ever hear, and their hollow faces the last thing they ever saw-

        Hold on.

        They could see.

        They could see… but there wasn’t much there- just some defining grotesque features of the faces that were groaning and creaking at them. But if was also clear that the things were careful to avoid the light that was peeking through the base of a doorway in the hall. With Arch’s remaining strength, they kicked out toward the door. Even if they could let just a little more of the light through, perhaps it would be enough to force those creatures to scatter.

        Arch’s foot connected to the bottom of the door with a loud bang. Then again and again and again and again and-

        Something in the door’s latch disconnected from the door jam. A bright yellow shower of light poured through and the creatures that held Arch down, were chased off into the darkest recesses of the cavern out of sight.

        Finally free, Arch scrambled into the room on their knees the whole way, and shut the door. It closed with a hollow rattle. With eyes shut tight and panting breaths of relief, they took a short moment to examine themselves; a measly effort to take care of any damage the decrepit creatures had done. The bandage they had tied to their arm had been lost in the skirmish, their nose was likely broken and still bleeding. Their fingers lightly pressed either side of the bridge of their nose and they whined in pain.

        “Empty… souls.”

        Arch flipped around, spooked by the raspy voice behind them from the yellow light that shone so brightly. Their eyes squinted through the light but couldn’t hold their gaze for long. When they looked away and blinked, they could see the figure of a man, with his arms splayed out in the echo of their vision. The voice continued with a resounding exhaustion.

        “With no essence of their own, they seek out the essences of others…” The voice breathed shallowly. “They do enjoy removing the light that souls contain…. An unfortunate… biproduct of my uncle’s Underworld...”

        The light and form of the splayed figure was unmoving, unable to move. Arch was still pressed against the door, now holding a hand over their eyes to shield themselves from the rays of light.

        “I… I don’t understand…” Arch started. They didn’t know what to say, how to even begin. “Who… are you?”

        There were a few ragged breaths from the figure suspended from the chains, then a tear; a drop of liquid sunlight fell from the bottom of the man’s chin and stained the rocky floor below.

        “A prisoner.” The voice exhaled.

        “A prisoner?” Arch squinted. The longer they watched the man, the easier it was to see their full form. The light faded, or their eyes simply became used to the beams. Either way, the shackles that spread the man’s body taut in the air were visible and bore a striking resemblance to the ones they had seen before.

        The man was nearly naked with only cloth to cover below his waist, and what was also noticeable and positively appalling was the torn hole in his chest, that was flayed open from his collar bone to his midsection. The light was strongest there.

        Building their courage, and hardly recovered from their last harrowing experience, Arch approached the hanging man, in the effort and hope to ease his pain. They didn’t know what they could do that would be of any benefit, but his breathing was shaky, like he was nearing his end. Swallowing back any fear, Arch brought themselves up to face him. He was clearly on the verge of passing out every few moments.

        “Did Paimon trap you here?” Arch asked, their lips and their breath suddenly felt quite dry in their throat. The man was too exhausted to respond, though Arch could have sworn he shook his head ever so slightly.

        Arch reached out with a gentle hand, and the prisoner seethed a warning causing them to stop.

        “W-what… are you… doing?”

        Arch blinked. “I’m trying to help.”

        Their hand met the prisoner’s cheek, cupping it lightly. An instant later, Arch’s eyes lit up with the yellow light and the power of the prisoner rushed through them, causing them to feel lighter than air and hotter than the sun.

        The prisoner shifted his gaze, meeting Arch’s eyes so very briefly before it filled with an unmistakable hatred to something coming up from behind.

        “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

        Arch felt the tug on the back of their shirt collar and was thrown to the ground, their head met the ground with a painful pounding and Paimon squared himself up to the prisoner, jabbing a finger into his face. The prisoner didn’t react, aside from a low scoffing turn of the head.

        “This was the deal you made, brother,” Paimon announced, “Aren’t you proud of your precious little humans? Hm? Failing you time and time again, aren’t they?”

        Brother? Did Arch hear that properly?

       Paimon threw his head back in raucous laughter, and then stopped, and turned on Arch, who was sitting up from the floor, inching slowly toward the door, backwards, on their butt.

        “Oh, my dear Arch,” he started, watching his newest arrival shake their little head in fear and he grinned. A bloody scar ran down the side of his face. “What have you done now?”

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 19

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-18 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: psychological whump, emotional whump, memory whump, angst... like so much, Lyrem centric chapter

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CHAPTER NINETEEN: A BLAST FROM THE PAST

        Daffodils and tiger lilies.

        Lyrem had to admit that they went well together. The sunshine colours would brighten the deathly cold winter’s day in an instant, and he desperately needed some warmth right now. The frigid January day was threatening to bring him under the tide of darkness. He had been away for a while. A job that was supposed to take a week turned into a month of running around and making deals with all sorts to please a certain U.S. senator. A republican, no less. He was dying to have Maria back in his arms again. It had been too long.

        The radio lit up on its own.

        “-great start to 1991 from Janet Jackson, folks! Next up we have Madonna with ‘Justify My Love’”-

        “Scared?”

        Paimon appeared in the passenger seat. Lyrem looked past him to glance at the bright yellow door at the end of the walkway. The snow had been cleared already, and the lights in the house were all out save for the porch.

        “Why would I be scared?” he asked.

        “You missed Christmas. Women love Christmas. They build up so much hope and sing Baby Please Come Home!” Paimon chuckled. “And you know, if you’re not coming, then she might be singing it to someone else- in more ways than one, if you know what I mean.”

        Lyrem scowled at him and opened his truck door. It closed with a loud creaking at the hinges and being stupid in the moment, re-opened the door to retrieve the lovely blooms that he had picked out.

        “She’s my true love,” he stated, peering in to Paimon. “Isn’t that what you promised me? She’d never hurt me like that. She’d never betray me.”

        “She’s not a robot, Lyrem, she’s a human being with control over her own choices. Even true love can’t compete with free will.” Paimon shrugged and forced a small smile. “But, you know, perhaps she’s one of those really special ones. You best take care of her.”

        Lyrem grew disgusted at the insinuation and slammed the door. Paimon had already vanished into thin air.

        Before he realized it, he was facing the yellow door, and holding the flowers close to shield them from the cold. The door was unlocked, and he stepped through. It was just after dinner-time. Something about the house felt wrong. There was too much energy. Lyrem wasn’t much of a psychic, but he could feel the heat in the air- oppressive and… suffocating. The words that Paimon had spoken lingered in the back of his mind- or maybe it was the front of his mind disguised as the back of his mind…

        Get rid of the thoughts Lyrem. They are not yours-

        He turned, kicking off his shoes and flicked on the light.

        “SURPRISE!”-

        He ditched the flowers, and pressed his back against the door. Lyrem prepared to defend himself with a knife that would have been on his person if it weren’t for security confiscating it as he tried to take it as carry-on. The rest of the lights in the house lit themselves with the help of some extra hands from recognizable faces- but Lyrem was on high-alert. They may as well have been strangers. In reality, they were friends. 

Well, Maria’s friends. Lyrem didn’t have any friends- not human friends.

        There was a bright flash of light, that caught his scowling glare and froze it in time. The grinning face of a dark-haired man looked back at him over the camera as it spit out a polaroid.

        Slowly, Lyrem caught himself up. There were streamers of bright colours draped along the ceiling and a shining banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY hung across the entranceway to the living room. Realizing that his reaction to the event was less than ideal, he smiled. Maria popped in front of him, escaping her hiding spot from behind the couch.

        “What… what is all this?” Lyrem started. He knew what it was. It was his 42nd Birthday, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled.

        “It’s your birthday, you goose!” Maria wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him quickly on the lips.

        “Right.” He picked up the flowers off the floor, and handed them to her, in a less ceremonial fashion than he was hoping.

        “Awe, aren’t you sweet.” She accepted them and played with the petals idly. “You forgot last year’s too, but this time, when I heard you’d be coming home, I knew you couldn’t miss out on Christmas and a birthday party! Just wouldn’t be right.” She ran off into the kitchen, abandoning him.

        The rest of the guests, couples mostly milled about and filtered into the hall. Lyrem nodded and smiled to them kindly.

        “Good trip?”

        He nodded, taking the questions like a politician surrounded by nosey reporters.

        “Where did you have to go this time?” Kelly, a blonde lady with thick lenses in her bright pink bifocals inquired of him. Her husband wrapped an arm around her waist. Lyrem always forgot his name but it was something very basic. He was the one with the camera.

        Valhalla. “Norway,” he replied.

        “Remind me, what is it that you do again, Lyrem?” the husband asked.

        “I’m… a liaison. A third-party negotiator of sales. Very boring work, I assure you.”

        “Oh? What kind of sales?”

        “Depends on the client,” he answered shortly. “I’m a freelancer.”

        “Happy Birthday, to you… Happy Birthday, to you…

                    Happy Birthday, dear Lyremmm, Happy Birthday too you!”

         The chorus of voices broke out amongst the chit-chat as Maria carried the cake all the way into the hall. It was lit up and lighting up her face. Kelly’s husband lifted the camera, and snapped a quick photo.

         “What are you all still doing in the hallway?” She snapped playfully. “Get in the dining room already so we can eat cake and play Pictionary.”

        They all filtered off to the dining room to the side of the Georgian style house. Kelly ran off to bring in the wine that had been left chilling in the fridge. Her husband handed off the pictures to Lyrem.

        “This one of you didn’t turn out, I don’t know what happened. Your face went all black and fuzzy- but this one of Maria’s looking pretty cute, eh?”

        Lyrem took the photos graciously and clicked his tongue.

        “Philly, could you open this one for me?” Kelly ushered her husband away to help with the wine bottles. She giggled out loud and sneered. “I have the worst grip.”

        “Lyrem!” Maria scolded. “You need to blow out your candles! Make a wish!”

        He sighed. He wished that the party would be over. He wished that these people would go home. He wished he could get a night alone with his fiancée. He wished that he could find something… anything that would bring him comfort. Then, he wished he wasn’t constantly wondering if he was a bad man.

        And that was all he wished even before he reached the end of the table.

        By the time he leaned over the cake he was completely out of wishes, but blew out the candles anyway. Maria smiled. He loved it when she did that.

        The room went dark, delving into the shadows and engulfed by the confusion, Lyrem blinked, and realized suddenly that he wasn’t back in the old Georgian house, with Maria and surrounded by friends and… Phillip.

         . . . . . . . .

        “No, go back!” A light voice said through the dark.

        “Persephone, it is unkind to spy on the lives of others, even if they are guests in our realm”-

        “Pfft,” the higher voice brushed off the scolding lower one. “This isn’t our realm and you know it.”

        “Nevertheless, he is our guest. We ought to treat him with respect.”

        “But I want to see them kiss again”-

        “Persephone, stop”-

         . . . . . . .

        Lyrem almost woke, but was jolted back to a time… different than his birthday and he lost control over his own mind once again.

        They were awake and lying in their bed, bodies bare and snuggling beneath the quilts as the powdery snow fell, piling against the bedroom window and onto the boughs of the trembling aspen outside. It was a bit less than a year later. They were married now. The little gold ring was on his finger and hers matched just as simply. Carolers were outside, they were a week too early, but then, he didn’t mind the soft sounds that seemed to leak their way in through the window on the second floor.

        He wasn’t looking out the window, entertained by counting the snowflakes like she was. He was enjoying her, watching her. Kissing her olive skin and wrapping himself in closer to her back as one hand played with her soft hair and the other stroked her waist. He felt like himself. He felt warm, and safe, and loved.

        “I have to tell you something.”

        He stopped kissing. Maria rolled over to face him and stared into his eyes. Suspiciously, he leaned his head away from hers and she pursed her lips nervously.

        “What do you need to tell me?” he prompted.

        Maria took a long breath, putting Lyrem on edge.

        “You were gone a long time for this last client, you know? I didn’t have a lot to do, and I tried to start my own travel company after Jet Rover let me go. I tried to stay busy… you know?”

        Lyrem nodded and swallowed. The travel agency went bankrupt soon after. Maria had been left by the wayside to pick up her life and start something new just before Lyrem needed to travel out to Belize for work. He came back with one hell of a tan. The tone of her voice grew shakier. The anxiety was growing stronger for both of them.

        “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He said gently. He was gone too often. For too long. Dammit all. He should have told Paimon to shove it instead of going along with his ridiculous schemes. Huitzilopochtli, an Aztec God of War, never did end up striking a deal with them to give the Pentagon a little morale boost after all. Lyrem ended up losing money in that charade too. Not the wisest bet he had ever made. He wouldn’t blame her for leaving him- for sleeping with another man. These winters were hell on earth, after all-

        “I bought a place,” she said.

        Lyrem twisted his face-

        “You bought a place?” he repeated, confused. They had a place. It was a beautiful place. He wasn’t always in it either. She didn’t need her own place.

        “On seventeenth. I thought to myself, you know, there is no point in me wandering around and trying to make a living for myself in travel if you’ll be off travelling for work too. And I can’t just eat, cook, and clean for myself all the time- I’d lose my mind so... I’m starting a business!”

        “Oh,” Lyrem’s eyes grew wide, and then interested. “What kind of business?”

        “I… I don’t know yet”- Maria grinned excitedly, glad that his interest was showing. “I just bought the space on a whim. I don’t even really know why. I just needed to do something.”

        “Well… That certainly is something.”

        “You don’t like the idea?” She asked. Puzzled by his sudden change in demeanour, taking it as a briefly condescending tone. 

        “No, no. It’s not that. I just…” he was lost in thought as the air grew chilled. He watched the skin on her shoulder pebble up as she sighed.

        “You thought I was about to tell you I was pregnant,” she surmised.

        “Mm.” he nodded, even if it wasn’t true.

        The thought of having children had crossed his mind. She wasn’t as old as he was. It wouldn’t be so risky to bring kids into this world except-

        “Not really on my mind, you know that,” she commented in a rush.

        He nodded again.

        “I know… But what if we did try?” the words fell out of his mouth suddenly and without much thought. Entertaining the idea of being a father was something that he often did before Maria had announced her opposition to the idea. Perhaps something had changed in her since she was let go from Jet Rover Travel Inc.

        She turned away from him, focusing on the snow as it fell from one white blanket to another.

        “I just... I don’t want to be a mother,” she said quietly.

        He didn’t remember how painful this moment was. Though quiet in her refusal, his heart was still brutally torn open by her words. That was her choice, and he would respect it. That didn’t make the reality any less painful to accept. True love didn’t include a perfect family. There wasn’t a written agreement for something like this, but if he wanted Maria to be happy, he would have to learn to live with her decision. He rolled off his side of the bed.

        “It’s fucking freezing in here, isn’t it?” he commented, rubbing one eye. “I’m going to turn up the heat.”

         . . . . .

        “Are you happy, now?” the voice from the darkness asked.

        “No, I thought there was more love here than that”- the light voice said annoyed. “Ugh! Did I skip over something?”

        “Look at what you put him through, the man is crying.”

        Lyrem searched the darkness as it quickly enveloped him once again. He remembered his place, a dead man reliving his time with Maria and how it had been squandered and painted with resentment.

        He always imagined it happier than this.

        “The poor thing was enraptured by her- there’s just something so bittersweet about that.”

        “Hey!” Lyrem shouted into the air angrily. “I can hear you, you know!”

        There was a low grunt from somewhere in the darkness. “We cannot waste our time. We need to find the right moment. The one with his call, or else we will never be able to find him again.”

        Lyrem spun around. There was nothing. Nothing up, nothing down, nothing anywhere. The voices, however, emerged from every direction.

        “Find who?!” Lyrem called out, brimming with frustration and an added vulnerability to the idea that these intruders could see whatever they wanted.

        “Fine,” Persephone settled reluctantly. Slowly, her voice faded away. “But I get to watch their wedding after! I want to see a happy ending after all this sadness…”

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 22

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-21 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: very sad... like quite sad. Not the saddist I have planned for him, but obviously Lyrem centric because it is sad. Also Memory whump :) and Cancer mention :( 

If you enjoy my work and are reading my stories then please do me a teeny tiny favor and reblog my work! Xx. - Alpaca.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ROOM 111

        Lyrem opened his eyes, exhausted from the effort to stay awake. The nurse released his hand from the man’s shoulder as he remembered what he would be waking up to and Lyrem jolted upright in the navy cloth seat. The waiting room was painted white from top to bottom with just a bit of colour on the walls in the failed attempt for the area to feel welcoming.

        “Sir,” the nurse addressed him. “Your wife is out of surgery now.”

        Lyrem sniffed and stood up, the weight of a clear stone sat in his pocket. On it was etched a symbol of an oddly shaped wheel with three prongs. It was the only thing holding him together-especially now as his legs were fighting him the whole way down the hall. Truthfully, he didn’t want to see her. He was afraid to see her.

        He imagined tubes. Too many tubes. Sticking out of Maria at every direction- smeared with rusty patches of blood- in pain and breathing with difficulty. He’d have to deliver her water, probably; Ask for a nurse to give her more pillows and more pain relief, too. He should have brought flowers- what kind of idiot forgets to bring flowers to his wife’s hospital bed?!

        “Can I speak with the surgeon?” Lyrem stuck out a hand, brushing the forearm of the nurse who would lead him to Maria. “Can I know…”

        He couldn’t finish the question- how much longer she has?

        The nurse paused to nod him a sympathetic smile.

        “The surgeon will be available to speak with you both soon.”

        Lyrem choked back a small breath. Maria was awake? He didn’t think she would be awake. The nurse left him outside the door with the silver numbers 111 beside it. His reflection, nailed to the door jam, played his fear back to him. It reminded him that he couldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t let her know he was.

        He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes before crossing over the threshold- perhaps it was out of habit. Part of him even wished the Labyrinth might take him instead of Room 111.

        “Oh, who’s this handsome fella?”

        Lyrem’s mouth curled at the edges. Before speaking, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small yellow book.

        “His name’s Aurelius.”

        Maria chuckled lightly. The book was set down on the attached table to the bedframe. She didn’t reach for it. Lyrem found his eyes drifting away from hers each time he felt the contact lingered for too long. Her eyes like storm clouds, were once bright and lively. Today, and for many days previous, they had sunken in her growing sickness.

        “Did they tell you anything, yet?” Lyrem asked with his eyes to the geometric carpeted floor. It was badly stained and needed desperate replacing.

        Maria shook her head and closed her eyes. There were tubes just helping the oxygen flow and not much else other than an IV and blood oxygen monitor clipped to her finger. He could hear the laborious breathing though. That was something she didn’t have before she had come in. Before she had said much at all, Lyrem sensed that she was tired.

        “You should keep it,” she said softly, nodding to the book. “I’ve read it a thousand times over. I don’t need it anymore.”

        “Are you trying to tell me you’ve finally achieved enlightenment?”

        “Stop being a goose,” she commanded. “You’d learn a lot from it. Just take it already.”

        Lyrem’s eyes clouded over. Swallowing, he sat down beside her on a simple black chair, and shook his head.

        “No, I don’t need it.”

        Maria sighed. Her eyes disappointed in his condescending and stubborn refusals, though she was not at all surprised by it.

        “Lyrem… we both know what he is going to say”-

        “No, we don’t. We haven’t heard anything from the surgeon yet”-

        “The chance that I recover even with chemo is extremely low”-

        “There are always alternative treatments if it becomes too hard for you”-

        “I know I don’t have much longer”-

        “For fuck sake’s, Maria! Are you really so desperate to get rid of me?!”

        A hush fell through the room. There wasn’t a sound, save the steps of nurses and doctors directing themselves through the halls and the odd traveling visitor. Lyrem’s head fell, his face red with shame…

        “You think that I want to get rid of you?”

        “No, I didn’t mean that.”

        “You think I’d rather die than be by your side, Lyrem?”

        “No, I”-

        “I would never,” her voice shook with an anger hardly seen. Her eyes burned with tears of betrayal and what Lyrem would have only seen as regret if he was ever brave enough to meet her gaze. “Ever tell you that. I would never choose to discard you like that”-

        “Maria, I”-

        “I stood by your side. I was always there for you and I waited for you for ages”-

         “I know, my love. I’m s”-

        “I loved you, Lyrem.”

        “I’m so sorry, Maria.”

        Loved.

        He waited, holding his breath, but Maria was finished speaking. In fact, she didn’t even notice how she had placed that single letter at the end of the word that meant so much. He had noticed it immediately. He rubbed the palm of his hand down his face and stood up.

        “Where is that goddamn surgeon?!”

        Lyrem stepped out of the room, only to find himself face to face with a doctor- or who he assumed to be one. She was tall, dark skinned and donned a long white coat. Her hands clasped in front of her, as if she had expected him to appear there.

        “Lyrem Nomadus?”

        Startled by the sudden contact, he straightened against the door jam and nodded in confirmation. His striped button up shirt billowed out slightly and was left partially untucked; the last evidence that a man of his position had given up. Stepping out of the way, he allowed the woman into the room.

        Maria had already drifted into an exhausted sleep in the time that he had left for the door and returned to his chair. She deserved the rest. Reaching out, he held Maria’s hand. Her skin was rough and dry from the cold, unfeeling hospital where she had been staying for some time. There was a small bottle of lotion near the headboard. He took some in his hands and began to massage hers tenderly as she slept; almost placing him into a calming, meditative trance. It smelled of lilacs.

        “Stage four,” the woman said simply.

        “Yes, we know,” Lyrem said robotically. “You’re not the doctor we spoke with before she went under. Where is he?”

        “He was on his way, but became distracted with more …important patients.”

        With a fire in his eyes, Lyrem snapped.

        “My wife is the most important patient in this fucking building!”

        “You’re quite a mouthy one, aren’t you?”

        He huffed, and returned to attending Maria, concerned that his voice had woken her, he became still. The woman in the white coat closed the door gently and with a keen eye she studied Lyrem as he cradled his wife’s hand and placed a gentle kiss at the tips of her fingers.

        “May I ask you a personal question, Lyrem?”

        “What do you want to know?” He said tiredly.

        “What is your definition of true love?”

        He looked up, furrowing his brows.

        “Excuse me?”

        “What is it? True love, to you?”

        Lyrem shifted in his seat, and thought for a couple moments. The inkling that this person was more than a doctor, or a surgeon for that matter, was quite clear.

        “It’s something that is meant to be. It’s destiny, and it’s perfect.”

        The woman hummed. “That is very cute. I hope you don’t mind me saying.”

        “And may I ask the same question of you?” Lyrem posed indignantly. He lowered Maria’s hand to her side again. His eyes became more steeled. Serious.

        The woman grinned and approached and danced her fingers along the bedspread. Her eyes continued to linger on him as she explained herself.

        “True love…” she began. “To me… Exists and does not exist…

                 At the same time.

        Everyone loves in a thousand different ways every single day.

                 And yet we do not count a thought, a touch, a kiss, as acts of true love?

        What is any type of love, if not true?

                 If love is not true… Is it truly love?”

        “Forget I asked,” Lyrem grumbled a sigh.

        She giggled, like someone was tickling a feather against the back of her neck.

        “What is so funny to you?”

        “Oh, well,” she started. “I can feel your friend…the fiend. He’s trying to visit us now.” She lowered her voice to a playful whisper. “He can’t. I won’t let him interrupt.”

        Lyrem nodded and stood up from his chair. Pulling out a pale yellow, cloudy stone from his pocket, he held it up. She regarded it with a nod.

        “You’ve made yourself a moonstone. That is quite the feat.” she acknowledged. “All to summon little old me?”

        Lyrem’s grip tightened on the stone. So, she was Hekate. She finally showed up. Only took her four bloody weeks. Maria had done a lot of suffering in that time.

        “Yes.” He confirmed. Suspicious, more than hopeful, Lyrem placed it back into his pocket.  “And I would like to make a deal with you”-

                                                 . . . . . . . .

        “No!” The voice shouted through the darkness, the deeper one. “Where is it?!”

        “Oh, for goodness sake’s Hades!” Persephone hollered. “Maybe it has nothing to do with Maria? Maybe his call was somewhere else. We’ll find it eventually; we just have to keep searching.”

        “Hades!” Lyrem shouted. Once again, he was awoken into darkness from a deep memory. “Persephone! You both stop this charade right, bloody now!”

        “Oh great, now he knows we’re here.”

        Lyrem scoffed, his hands reaching his hips, he screamed right back once again. How dare they sift through his memories like old photos in a box, pulling him in and out of all the moments he wanted nothing more than to forget.

        “You utter fools! I knew I would arrive here! I knew you’d both be waiting! And I absolutely despise this attempt at torture! It’s boring! It’s… It’s… aggravating. Just let me die, already!”

        “I’m very sorry poor thing,” Persephone piped up, “But it’s really not meant to be torture for your little soul. We’re simply… looking for something”-

        “I don’t care what you’re looking for. Get out of my min”-

                                                   . . . . . . . .

        He was in a room.

        The backroom.

        Maria sat at the table with her small, thin, and wrinkled hands folded neatly. She only ever saw the back room once in her life and this was it. She had hardly looked around. Mystics was her pride and joy, but she wouldn’t be able to have it. Not anymore.

        A bejeweled and bloody knife sat beside her hands.

        “There’s enough money in your account for you to live happily. You’ll never have to worry about a thing,” Lyrem said as he sat across from her at the table.

        “I never wanted to break your heart.” She spoke softly.

        He should have noticed it earlier; the small changes in her voice when she spoke to him, the softness in her eyes that had grown calloused; the unfeeling nature of her hand in his. It wasn’t the sickness that had brought it on. This had been the nature of their love for a long, lonely time.

        “My heart’s fine,” he said coldly.

        Perspectives had changed since she had survived her battle with cancer. Maria loved him well for many years, but her life with him was over now. Lyrem saw that now too- he was just too afraid to admit it.

        After Hekate’s deal, and Maria had been miraculously healed in a way that doctors would study for years to come. She had reconnected with an old friend through the ordeal when Lyrem was away, searching for ways to keep her alive. The friend was one who had divorced his wife and was now living in Cuba, retired and carefree. Phillip had a lovely beach house, with a dock, and a yacht, and one of those jacuzzi tubs that Maria could never get enough of when she found herself in a nice hotel.

        “Give me your hand,” he requested, holding his own out for her to take one last time.

        The hand she offered had been scarred many times over and rarely had her wound ever been re-opened on purpose. Occasionally, Maria would see something she was not supposed to or know something that could have dire consequences for Lyrem if it ever was released into the world. It was safer if her memories were simply removed.

        This time, he wanted to erase himself.

        Everything they had ever done, he wanted it gone. He ushered her out the back door as her escort. Their final words had been shared. A cab would pick her up outside of Mystics in a few minutes to take her to the airport with a pair of packed yellow suitcases.

        “Memorias vim ex”-

        “Wait,” she stopped him, and stared up at his aged features. She wondered if she would still see him as handsome as he was now when her memories of him were gone. “I still… I care about you, Lyrem. Please, take care of yourself. Promise me.”

        Any softness left in his eyes immediately hardened. He told himself he didn’t care what she had left to say. She had wasted enough of her life with him already. There wasn’t a moment to lose.

        “Memorias vim extermina.”

        The cut on her hand healed itself thoroughly, fusing the skin together to leave not much more than a thin red welt on her palm. She turned back toward the street. The only thing on her mind now, was where to wait for her cab.

        He stepped into the back room, as silently as possible, just in time for Hades to bring him back into his present situation with a well fueled rage.

        “If you hedonistic cretins don’t stop what you’re doing, right now, I”-

        “You poor mortal man,” the deep voice claimed. “You still bear my mark, don’t you?”

        There was a dim blue glow. Finally, something for Lyrem to address properly.

        “Yes,” he spoke through gritted teeth, nearly pulling his hair out at the madness that was threatening to overtake him. Instead, his hand hovered over a spot on the upper left of his chest, mindful of the brand that Hades had blessed him with many years ago. “Quite frankly, it’s been a thorn in my side for decades.”

        “A simple reminder of what you owe me.” Hades corrected him, stepping out of the light. His towering figure loomed over Lyrem. Hades snapped his fingers, bringing more light into the cavernous realm. Deep bluish hues overtook them both, painting Hades’ stark white beard with a cobalt glow.

        “Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”