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madllamamomma · 4 months

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The Visitor~ Part 9!!

Chapter 9~

The Letter & The Sleeping Beauty ~

[WARNING: My content is for a mature audience 18+ please. Some scenes include acts of violence and abuse.]

[.....After the last chapter of Journey Back To The South]

____(Three months earlier)___

Back in Charles, in the cold mansion of Remington Martin Alarie III, where he sits in his study with a large roaring fire with Beatrix, his badger familiar sits cozily on his lap. The snow is gently falling down to the icy ground. And the Archmagister had just received a long awaited news. It was from ‘The Young Lady Alarie’. He hadn’t heard from her in nearly fifteen years. As the letter opens in mid air, Martin stands to his feet, Beatrix crawls up the back of the chair with her head tilted as he disregards the tattered envelope and eagerly reads its contents.

In an instant, the small amount of brightness in his face falls as he continues to read and stands to his feet. Confused, he shakes his head and quickly goes to the next page. “This…. this is just a copy of a damn death certificate dated from over four years ago and some… deed?….. I don’t know a peasant woman named Rhemi.... Who would—” Words then die in his throat as he turns to the next page. All of the color in his face starts to drain as he sees the next page with a single phrase on it.

“We’re all flying with the birds now…. Farewell, Père. —Your Little Pigeon”

Martin’s arms suddenly fall limp to his sides, dropping the letter and the two certificates along with it and they flutter to the ground. Bartholomew tilts his head about to pick up the papers from the ground. “M-Master?…. Are you alrig—?”

“—Get out…” Martin whimpers under his breath, his lifeless eyes blankly staring off into the marble fireplace as his mind stitches the pieces together.

Bartholomew freezes half crouched reaching out for the letter and confusingly replies, “....M-Monsieur?—”

Martin’s pale white face quickly flashes into a red hot hue as his voice crescendos from a faint mutter into a terrible roaring scream. “I…. said….. GET…. OUT!!!!” Grabbing the small table next to his chair, he swings it over his head with two of its legs—BAAMMM!!! CRACK!!! THUD!—

Bartholomew quickly ducks down, protectively covering his head, dazed as the solid wood furniture smashes against the wall into hundreds of pieces. With the sudden violent outburst, Beatrix makes a startled chattering hissing noise as she darts under the chair. “—NOW!!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF GODDAMN PIG SHIT!!!!” Martin screams with all his might.

The servant hastily sprints out the door, nearly struck by a heavy flying silver candelabra and pulls the door handle shut. Before he can, Beatrix squeezes herself through the crack in fear of being trapped inside, narrowly escaping this blind rage and scurries off down the hallway growling and snarling that almost sounded like a child crying.

Inside the doors, with a guttural grunt, Martin snatches up the book he was reading and slams it into the fireplace. The fire roars as the book's seams smolder and even starts to pop and hiss loudly from the oily pages burning. Pacing his study like a lion in a tiny cage, Martin then searches for what he could destroy. His face blood red and a million thoughts race through his skull. Rhemi Niamh. Niamh??…. That’s a goddamn Travelish surname. “My daughter. A noble child. DIED TAKING ON A FUCKING DIRTY TRAVELISH NAME???”

—SMASSH!!!

“SHE DIED A FUCKING LOWLY COMMONER?!”—RRRRRIIIIIIIPPP!!!

“IN VESUVIA OF ALL FUCKING PLACES? WHY DID IT HAVE IT BE FUCKING VESUVIA??!” —CLANK-CLANK-CLANK!!!— “I HATE VESUVIA!!! AND SHE FUCKING DIED IN THAT FILTHY PLACE?! JUST LIKE THE OTHER FILTH THAT LIVES THERE?!” —BOOM!!!! KIR-CLANK!!!

Bit by bit, he rips apart the chamber, breaking apart all of the fancy furniture, smashing once prizes foreign porcelain vases, tearing down the satin currents, denting very carefully crafted gold and silver sconces. He even shifts his hands into sharp talon like claws with his magic, digging them into the wall leaving huge gashes and fraying the fashionable dark green wallpaper. Turning his attention towards another stationary victim, he rips up the canvas of a large expensive painting of the mountainous countryside that hangs on the wall; Screaming with such hate and rage like a rabid animal. With his breath shallow and heavy, he stands in the middle of his study, still not yet satisfied as his magic courses through his hot blooded body. Conjuring his energy in his hands, he throws them both up above his head then swifty throws them down again, throwing dozens of heavy books from a wall of shelves, making them rain down to the carpeted floor and quaking the entire chateau. He repeats this over and over again until the shelves are bare and empty like the feeling in his chest. Once there are no more books, he paces in circles, ripping clumps of his plum gray hair out, kicking up some of the loose pages scattered across the ground as he screams at the top of his lungs. His magic swirls violently all around him and manifests it into metallic spikes, shredding the carpet, the walls, the doors, the books and their pages. Ribbons of paper flurry down like the frigid snowy blizzard outside.

“THAT….. FUCKING WHORE!!! HOW DARE SHE STEAL MY CHILD FROM ME!!!!”

Behind the door, the servants darn not enter nor even check on the master. They do however keep close to his chamber quietly murmur with one another, shocked at the severity of this episode. The Archmagister has had fits of violence and rage before, but nothing quite close to this. Carefully, Bartholomew awaits a foot or so away from the door in fear of being accidentally impaled or maimed.

Back inside, nearly exhausted, Martin doubles over catching his breath in his now fatigued lungs. Heaving furiously as sweat drips from his forehead, temples, and nose, his face blood red, vessels billowing up, veiny and bulged. A flash of gold catches his eye and he glances up, wiping away the sweat with his forearm as he sees a rouge painting he missed near the doors hidden behind a dusty white linen sheet.

Realizing that he had one more good thing left to destroy, he storms over with teeth gnashing and claws out, ready to obliterate it. Ripping the cloth off the wall with a hateful sounding grunt, his clawed taloned hands digging into the thick gold-leaf wooden frame, teeth grinding so hard it is painful, ready to tear the artwork into tiny pieces as four familiar faces stare back at him.

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, his eyes finally scan the painting... completely unaware what was hanging there all these years, covered up. Forgotten.

A portrait.

Florence, Rhemielia, and himself in this very room with a young scrawny Beatrix draped across his shoulders and a large fire roaring in the background. It was the last painting of his family before they were taken away. All the anger seemingly dissipates, giving away to the harsh sorrow he was so desperately running away from.

No longer having the nerve, his sharp claws retract back and he smooths the frayed edges wishing he never touched it. He quietly shifts into his normal hands as he delicately releases the frame that has minimal damage, slowly taking a single step back. The portrait took up a good portion of the wall; his eyes scan up and down multiple times, studying the artwork as he finally catches his breath. Taking in every paint stroke, every color, every single detail that he hasn’t seen in such a long time. Rhemielia and Florence’s faces were perfectly rendered, matching nearly how he remembered them, give or take a few minor details he asked the artist to change. And as he looked at himself, he remembered how happy he was here, even though you’d never have known with his stoic expression. This one was actually one of his favorite pieces he had ever commissioned. He and his wife wore their best jewels, his favorite dress which was the latest fashion at the time. Little Rhemielia was so pretty in her light blush dress embroidered with delicate white lace and blue flower embellishments. She looked so much like her mother here…. No. She looked like Mairead… His sister. Those eyes. Those large red doe eyes…. Even with them, Rhemiliea was simply beautiful. His only child. A large wave of regret washed over him, wishing he’d never made the artist paint them a chestnut brown to match her mother’s. He used to hate seeing them so much, they just reminded him of dirty Travelish blood. Yet at this very moment, he would give anything to gaze into her deep shade of burgundy irises again. He then recalls how they would gleam in the sunlight and look like two large rubies. And for that moment, a tiny second, he thought they were just lovely despite his better judgment.

Slowly, Martin turns away, no longer able to look at the ghosts that stare back at him. He covers mouth with his scarred burnt right hand, dampening a hard hiccup, and presses his spine against the same wall as the portrait. Finding himself rather exhausted, he surveys the damage and chaos he had created. As he looks all around to his once prized possessions with the bits of paper and dust still swirling all around him. It’s a goddamn mess. The room felt so large with nothing on the walls and for the first time since he was a young, he felt so microscopic and puny in his own environment. Unexpectedly, an overwhelming painful surge strikes his chest. The chaotic magic that swirled around starts to settle down and feels now like drizzly heavy rain before completely retreating back to his body. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he can’t stop himself from choking up, unable to remember the last time he had wept. Helplessly incapable of containing his tears as they stream down his face. Sluggishly, he slides down the wall, pushing back his disheveled plum and gray hair from his face, his knees drawn up into his torso like he did when he was a child. Just like when he lost his mother when he was but a boy… just like he did when he found Mairead hanging from her neck from a tree branch in the woods all those years ago.

The very seemingly proud and arrogant man sits there, weeping his heart out on the floor, mourning the loss of his only daughter. With a trembling hand, he pulled out a tiny pink pearl bracelet he keeps in his interior vest pocket that laid over his heart, clutching it tightly to his chest. Rhemielia always wore it, he gave it to her on her ninth birthday after traveling to the salty seas during a business for the king, he was promoted to the Chamberlain and wanted his daughter to have the finest things in life. She loved that bracelet, she never took it off, yet this precious trinket of hers was left behind that dreadful day she was taken. He found it amongst the rubble of his home and all these years he took it with him everywhere he went.

“... Pigeon… My little Pigeon..... No…… not my child, oh, gods….. not my baby... Why?..... Why did you have to take her from me, Phara?—You stupid cunt.......” His fist clutches the small trinket and he closes his eyes tightly. “...Oh god…. my little girl is dead….” The pain in his chest. This agony.... This pain is unbearable.

Outside the door, Bartholomew finds himself taken aback as he hears his Master’s sobering mutters. The man has worked for the Archmagister for a long time, ten years to be exact. Over the years, he watched him drown himself in diplomatic work, took on an apprentice, and kept himself very busy. All these accomplishments, the riches he gathered, the titles he gained, one would think it would make anyone a little happy, and yet he always seemed to be joyless. Personally, Bartholomew had never met his master’s wife nor his daughter, many of the servants quit or never came back after the infamous fire. No one really knows why or knows what exactly happened either, only rumors and far fetched conspiracies with little to no weight behind them. Not many others knew them either, it was said that Sir Martin barely took his child to court, when he did he’d cover her face with a white vail and her mother kept her glued to her side. It was thought she was rather frail and ill and possibly unsightly. His commoner wife was always relentlessly bullied and slowly withdrew from attending social gatherings the last few years she was with him.

Martin rarely spoke of either of them. And the servants knew better than to ever bring them up or ask of them. The last maid who entered the child’s old room to dust it was punished severely and made an example out of… The seldom times Martin did speak of them, his icy cold demeanor melted slightly, his face would soften, and his eyes even brightened. He would always say that they were both like rays of sunlight in the middle of a hurricane. “They always brighten the darkest of places with their light.”

Bartholomew knew that his master had been searching for his wife and daughter for a long time. Everyone in Charlès knew the tragic tale of the Archmagister’s wife and daughter being kidnapped by a Throthian woman named Phara who was once Rhemielia’s private tutor. The woman had to be very powerful to leave the King’s Magician in such a dire state. Nearly fifteen years have passed, the rest of the court had given up and even forgotten about it all some time ago, but he never stopped searching… Traveling far and wide, sending letters to various kingdoms, regions, and city states offering a very large reward for their safe return. So when this long awaited news came, Bartholomew hoped it would give Martin some kind of solace. But he was wrong. Very. Very. Wrong.

Bartholomew had believed Master Martin was incapable of feeling anything other than annoyance and pride. He was a tough man to work for. Harsh, demanding, cold, but as the butler continued to press his ear to the door, he realized in that moment he was human too.

This man behind this door was indeed just that. A man. A man with feelings and emotions…. A man in tremendous pain…. Worst of all, this man was alone.

Bartholomew finally peels his ear away from the mahogany door and his heart unexpectedly ached. As he turns back around, he sees most of the servants staring at him eager for the good gossiping material. “Unbelievable..” He murmurs under his breath “...Nothing to see here…. get back to your duties.” He hushly mutters shooing them along. They all quickly glance at one another, still standing there stupidly like a herd of sheep. “Well—Go on!!” He quietly snaps. “...Give him some dignity. This is obviously a private matter for the gods’ sake!” Finally, one by one, they all go back to their duties leaving the hall barren once more. Now alone, Bartholomew slowly traveled down the hallway to fetch his master a bottle of expensive brandy and to draw him a hot bath.

As he enters the cold damp cellars, he can’t help but think about his own family. He also has a daughter, three in fact, along with a young son. His eldest is close to the late Rhemielia’s age and is married and pregnant with his first grandchild. He was proud of them, loved them dearly, they could be annoying and bicker with one another, but his wife and his children mean the world to him. The thought of losing any of them…well… He just couldn’t bear it… He at least had people to come home to. Other than the paid help, Sir Martin lived in this large chateau solely and with his familiar. It’s a beautiful home. Made up of the many rooms and the lavish architecture, many gardens and lush green lawns, it is the envy of many people even in the court. But to Barthelmew, he knew otherwise… This place was a pretty ornate but empty box with a velvet cushion inside. It's beautiful but it was devoid of anything precious to protect. What's the point of a pretty box with nothing to hold in it?

There’s no such thing as a wealthy servant, but being the butler for a high official and the king’s right hand man was still a very modest living compared to others in this city. It kept his family well fed and he was able to save up for a decent dowry for his daughters so they could marry well and so his son could have a higher education. That’s rare here in this country. He didn’t absolutely adore his master, but he did seem to be one of the few people who could at least tolerate him. He may not care for him like some servants care for the family they serve, but he could respect the man’s talents and ambitions. None of these titles were given at birth, he earned them all. So in turn he couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards him as well. After all…. How could you not pity a man who had fought for everything he owned and yet had everything taken from him at the same time.

“I wonder…..” Bartholomew muttered to himself as he carried a sealed bottle of brandy and a goblet back to his master’s study.

“…Is this what true self sabotage looks like?”

_________(Present day after part 8)_________

Marching towards the wharf, his forehead and nose still trickling blood, the Archmagister makes his way to his ship too furious to feel all his injuries. Tears reaming his eyes as he reaches into his breast pocket he clutches the small pearl bracelet and he chokes them down.

Suddenly a large dark ball of fur scurried up the wharf catching up with him. Silently, Beatrix follows behind him sensing that things didn’t go well, and that her master was completely distraught.

As Martin finally approaches the port, the Charlès guards snap up into formations and more make their way up the dock that holds their vessel. All the men on deck stand to attention when they see the King’s magician headed their way, but all of them taken aback at his disheveled state. As news catches like fire among the men, the captain hurries from his private quarters to meet him at the ramp half dressed in his uniform from his ‘company’, blindsighted by this interruption.

“Monsieur, Alarie.” The captain says with a quick salute. Noticing the blood, the capitan’s eyes widen as Martin keeps walking towards his chambers, and he quickly offers him a white handkerchief. “Your Excellency, you-you’re bleeding… What… What happened to–”

Snatching the handkerchief out of the captain’s hand, he finally stops and snaps it open while snarling, “—None of your concern, Captain.” As he presses the linen to the cut making his skin sting and wipes away the blood. Pushing through his shutter, Martin continues his orders, still rather cooly sounding, pretending as if nothing had happened. However it was clear with his body language and the cadence in his words he obviously still had a very short fuse. “...Tell your men to fetch Bartholomew and my things immediately from the palace. Then we are to set sail for the Southern Colony.”

Confused, the captain shakes his head looking towards his first mate. “But, Monsieur—The final trade meeting is tomorrow. The king had direct orders to complete negotiations with the western trade route. We’re not due to leave until–GAAAAH!!!”

Suddenly a rope from the mainsail flies over and curls around the Captain's neck, stopping him mid sentence and lifting him a foot off the deck and Martin’s hand swirling with a metallic-like magic.

“…I said. We. Are. To. Set. Sail.” Martin hisses quietly through his tight jaw and nostrils flared staring into the capitan’s eyes as some of the small blood vessels break and he grasps for the rope. “Do I appear to be the kind of man who likes to repeat myself, Captain?” The first mate stands terrified, unsure what to do as he glances between his captain and the Archmagister.

Martin leans in even closer to the poor choking man with a small eerie demeaning smile as the rope tightens around his neck. “When I say we are leaving for the Southern Colony, you are going to weigh anchor and sail to the Southern fucking Colony. And if you don’t… I will find someone who will… Do I make myself clear, Captain?”

Unable to talk let alone breath, the captain nods his head in desperation while holding the rope with his hands so the weight of his body doesn’t break his neck.

“... Good,” Martin exhales and relaxes slightly and flicks his wrist. The rope finally goes limp and frees the man’s throat. As he gasps for air on the wooden plants deck, Martin stares him down and leans into his face whispering. “Never. Ever. Question me again, Captain. It would do you good to remember that you are expendable.”

“O-....Oui, A-Archmaigster, Sir.” Absolutely terrified, the Captain replies raspily, still clenching his now rope burned neck.

“Splendid…” Rolling his eyes at the poor sight, Martin straightens himself up and tosses back his now bloody handkerchief down back to the captain. “...Get the fuck up. You look pathetic wriggling about in front of your men.”

Struggling to his feet, the first mate and other crewmen come swarming to his side and aid him until he gains his footing. “I’m fine! Leave me be!” He snaps with a strain in his voice as he stares loathingly towards the Archmagister unable to retaliate as collects himself. “We set sail in an hour…”

The first mate nods his head and reluctantly shouts, “Réveillez l'équipage! Nous devons appareiller dans une heure!”

Martin angrily trundles over towards his quarters, slamming the door shut with his magic as Beatrix barely makes it inside and hides in the corner. He then snaps his fingers igniting all the lamps and illuminates his rather large seafaring courtiers. All the while he pulls out papers from his side pocket that he was mailed three months ago and sits at his large ornate desk, shuffling through them until he finds the one he was looking for. As he reads the paper carefully, he combs through it over three times and nods his head to himself. Without a single doubt in his mind, an eerie confident smile takes over his face, cooling his fury. As a satisfied chuckle finally leaves his lips he reaches for the wine sitting in the corner of his desk, pops the cork with his thumb and takes a long swig straight out of the bottle as he stares at the paper with malicious intrigue.

“... I will have you back, Pigeon.”

______________________________

Muriel presses his ear up to Rhemi’s limp chest, he can still hear her heart beating, and she’s very quietly breathing. But she's just too still after just being completely hysterical only a few brief moments ago. “Rhemi….. Rem! Wake up!!..... RHEMI!” Gently, he tries to shake her, but she doesn’t open her eyes. “.....Please wake up, beautiful…. Please….” Tears just stream down his face. She…. looks… like she's dead….

Asra places his hand on Muriel’s shoulder making him start a bit. “...She’s just passed out. It’s ok, Muri. It’s happened before. She used all her magic again.”

Reluctantly Muriel nods his head and quickly wipes away the tears. He’s witnessed her pass out before…. but not quite like this. Something about it made him terrified. It’s like she just… shut down. Mentally and physically shut down. Tenderly he scoops her into his large arms and takes her to the nearby couch on the opposite side of the room, being careful of all the glass littered on the floor while Asra fetches a cool damp washcloth to place on her forehead.

The hermit doesn’t leave her side, sitting beside her on the wooden floor, petting her hair comfortingly and watches her chest rise and fall very slowly. Somehow she still looks like she's in great deal of pain.

Asra takes one look around the shop and huffs. It’s a fucking mess…. Potions, ingredients, powders, elixirs, everywhere– Luckily, the counter was able to be fixed with a quick spell, but the rest of the shop wasn’t as fortunate. In the chaos, all the glass and their contents mixed together, rendering them completely useless. Not only that, but the stairs are even damaged and they’ll need a carpenter to fix some of the steps. With a heavy sign and a flick of his wrist, he summons two brooms and a dustpan to start cleaning up the mess. Slowly, the floor started to look a little better with each sweep.

Taking a little break, he glances over to the couch where she continues to lay motionless. He knew Rhemi to have a lot of raw magical abilities before…. but never has she demonstrated something to this degree. His ears still partly ring after that ungodly sound she made. He never really has been frightened of her powers, but the anger and pain in her was so overwhelming, he was foolish to not be a little wary.

The small coo-coo clock bell chimed. An hour has now passed, yet Rhemi hasn’t even made a slight stir other than a few sleepy jolts.

Muriel tries shaking her awake a little more, but still nothing. Both Muriel and Asra’s anxieties grow a bit more. Asra starts to pace a little and Faust slithers over to the couch and curls up around her right hand as if to hug her. “...Sleepy?”

“I… I don’t know, Faust.” Asra murmurs, watching as Muriel runs his finger through her brownish-red hair.

Asra places his hands over his hip and glances back at the clock again, it’s now a quarter after the hour, and he’s had just about enough of this. “I’m going to get Ilya.” Asra finally says. Muriel stays silent as he gently strokes his fiancée’s cheek with his thumb. She usually leans into his touch, even when asleep, but still there is nothing. “...Muri?” Asra whispers, placing his hand comfortingly on his friend’s broad left shoulder.

Finally, Muriel turns with a sharp inhale, his eyes still red, puffy, and wet as he nods firmly patting Asra’s draped hand and mumbles, “...Go.”

Without even taking his coat or hat, Asra rushes out the door and races straight towards the doctor’s clinic. Julian isn’t all that far away, just down the street. But tonight, it feels like miles and miles away, and his stomach starts to turn the further away he is from his best friends. What is gonna happen to her? What if she doesn’t wake up? What will Muriel do? What will I do?? At last, he gets to the door and unceremoniously bursts right in without knocking. “—ILYA!” He shouts.

Julian jumps from his desk in the corner from his journal and is a bit surprised at his lover’s urgency. “Asra, dear, er, w-what ever is the—”

“It’s Rhemi!”

“R-..Rhemi??.... What? What’s wrong?? Did–Did something happen?? Is she hurt?!” He jumps to his feet automatically grabbing a bag throwing a few things in, knowing that something was terribly wrong. “Asra! Tell me!!!” He demands, doctor mode fully kicking in.

Poor Asra being so disheveled, he rubs his forehead trying to think straight. “I-I… I don’t know! She…. just….. passed out!”

“But… doesn’t she do that all the time–?” Julian replies without looking up from packing.

“–Yes! Yes! I know! But this time she isn’t waking up—It’s been over an hour already!”

Julian keeps asking questions as he hastily zips around the clinic tossing things he thinks he’ll need in his bag, including a few of his trusty leeches. “—Is she breathing??”

“Yes. Muriel has been glued to her side, making sure she is.”

“Her pupils?? Are they dilated?”

“I… Shit—I didn’t check!”

“How is her heart beat?”

“Fine, I—I think…. Muriel didn’t say anything about it—It’s like she’s asleep, but she won’t wake up! No matter what we do!”

Julian pauses for a moment thinking to himself. “Hmmmmm….. Odd....” He shakes his head and hands Asra his bag while he throws on his jacket.

“Odd… odd?? What do you mean, odd??? Can you help her or not, Ilya??”

After strapping on his eyepatch and donning his gloves, Julian finally sees this distought nature of his lover and he cups his face tenderly, soothing him instantly. “Asra, darling. I’ll be alright… I’m going to do what I can. Okay?”

A few tears roll down the magician's face and he nods cupping the doctor’s wrists. “I know….. Sorry…”

Taking back the bag from Asra with one hand, Julain grabs his hand with the other and then they both sprint back to the shop without another word. Having Ilya there by Asra’s side made him feel grounded in a way, he felt stronger, even braver. Julian had been studying a lot for over a year. He’s not the same hack leech obsessed plague doctor he used to be. Asra squeezes his hand a little tighter as they arrive back to the shop.

As they both enter, Julian takes a quick gander around confused at the mostly empty shelves that are always filled with glass bottles and ingredients, then sees the visible cracks in the front counter. What in the name of the gods happened here?? He ponders to himself, but decides at this very moment that it isn’t important and brushes it off for the time being. Muriel still clung to Rhemi’s side where Asra left them close by her side.

Julian rips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, then opens his bag, pulling out a small looking brass horn of some kind, he then carefully pats Muriel on the shoulder. “... Hey, big fella…. I need to evaluate her.” Muriel takes in a deep breath, then glances up at him. Julian has never seen the poor guy like this before. His eyes are pleading, looking so helpless, ‘help her’. Julian gives him a very serious determined nod and Muriel then stands up and moves aside.

Asra takes his hand and surprisingly Muriel squeezes back. “It’s gonna be okay, Muri.” His eyes meet his tall friend’s, he can tell that he is not at all convinced, but he nods anyway.

Julian sits on his knees and gets quickly to work. He doff one of his gloves and touches her cheek with the back of his hand. He then takes the damp washcloth from her forehead and places his full palm on it. “..Ahhh.. Well, no fever. But that doesn't explain why she’s sweating...” He mutters.

He then takes the small horn placing the wider part of the bell on her chest and puts his ear towards the small part. He stays there for a moment and moves it a few times while listening for something. Finally, Julian sits back up, removing the horn. “..Er....Her heart rhythm and lungs sound fine….” He takes her radial pulse from her wrist and watches the clock for almost half a minute. “Her pulse is a little slow…. Did she vomit or anything?... Convulse?” He asks half turning his neck so Muriel and Asra can hear him.

“N- No. She just…. stopped…. moving….” Asra answers.

“...It was like she collapsed.” Muriel mutters.

“That's interesting….” Julian mumbled to himself, examining her up and down, thinking. He then opens her right eye to look at her pupils but then is shocked by what he finds. “Wooh–That's….. very… er…. interesting….”

“What?? What’s wrong???” Muriel quickly moves back closer, terror in his voice.

“Well...ah.... you two come take a look at this.” He waves them over and the two lean over him to look down at her with anticipation.

“What is it?? Do you know what’s wrong with her??” Muriel asks desperately.

“Well… no. Not quite yet… but look.” Julian says, opening her right eye again, as it darts back and forth rapidly.

“She’s….. she’s dreaming?” Muriel mutters.

“Looks to be that way. What exactly happened before she fainted??” Muriel and Asra’s face twist slightly and they exchange angry looks, feeling the exact same hate. “Well?? Wh-what happened???” Julian shrugs feeling completely left out.

“Her father…..” Muriel finally answers, shaking his head, feeling furious all over again and rubs his freshly cut up and bruised knuckles.

“... Martin?? What about that old jerk?” Julain sneers, it seems that everyone feels the same about that man.

“... Asra found an old portrait of her mother and her Aunt…. And well….” Muriel trails off for a moment unsure how to say the next part. “....Apparently Athena—Rhemi’s Aunt who owned the shop—Well .... Apparently she wasn’t her aunt after all….. Her real name was Phara or something? Or it was? I don’t really know…. But from what I gathered, when they lived in Charlès, Rem’s mother had an affair with her… then they all three ran away to Vesuvia. Apparently they all changed their names when they came here.”

“... They all lied about it…. Rem never told me the truth…” Asra adds still taking all of this in as well. “... Why didn’t she tell me back then?”

“Maybe…” Muriel starts to say as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear, thinking about how Rhemi was back then. “... She didn’t know how to? If you think about it, they were all wanted by Charlés.”

“Oh….. oh my….” Julain replies, scratching his scalp. “That’s….. ahhhh…. hmmm. A lot to, er, unpack there.....”

Muriel opens and closes his mouth a few times, before being able to get out the words, he’s so angry and upset at the same time and it makes it difficult to make sense. “He….he told Rem that Athena or… Phara, I guess it was—brainwashed her mother and convinced her to take Rhemi with her… Forced both of them to come here… Kept saying she didn’t belong here…That she didn’t belong with…. me….He saying such awful things…. Then she… she started to have this horrible migraine. She was crying, she was in pain.... She was in so much pain…” Muriel eyes water up again but he chokes them down. “She begged him to stop… But that fucking bastard didn’t even care! He just went on and on and on, saying these awful things…”

“We tried to stop him, but he made a barrier with his magic…. We couldn’t get to her…” Asra fills in.

“T-.... Then he…. he fuckin’ picked her up by her hair ....” Muriel says slowly, shaking his head.

Tears overwhelm the hermit and he presses his lips together tightly, still shaking his head and Asra pats his arm. “It’s alright, Muri. We did everything we could.”

“.... He…. What?!” Julian’s expression goes from shock to pure rage as the information sinks in and he stands to his feet, whipping his head around searching for the dickbag who claimed to be her loving long lost father. “Where’s the fucker now?!”

“Gone…” Muriel barks, staring hard and cold at the wooden floorboards, part of him wishing he decked that fucker in the face for hurting his soon-to-be wife. “...Rhemi kneed him, got him to let go— then she made this…. terrible screech…. It broke the barrier, along with all of the other things in the shop.”

“....We pushed him out, and surprisingly he just… left down the street. Then she passed out soon after that…. I feel like he gave up too easily.” Asra says feeling a bad pit in his stomach.

Julain then pulls a small vile from his bag and pops it open. The sharp smell of ammonia filled the air and the three of them blinked from the strong odor as he waved it carefully by her face. Even with the smelling salts she moved uncomfortably, but did not wake. Asra and Muriel quickly met one another’s eyes in disbelief. That should have worked.

Frustrated, Julian puts the cork back on the small bottle and stands back to his feet and faces the Asra and Muriel. He shakes his head while running his fingers through his thick curly red hair staring at his shoes, poundering to himself. “Hmmmmmm…. Well…ahhh… Medically…. I can’t find anything wrong with her….but… healthy people don’t just fall asleep and don’t wake back up like this… but then again, most people don’t come back from the grave either. Our Rhemi is rather…. An anomaly for a lack of a better word. So maybe her illness is too?”

“...I thought you said you could help.” Asra grumbles.

“I said I would do my best…” Julian faintly replies, knowing that his partner is just still upset. “... All we can do now is wait…”

Julian was right, despite the frustration of Asra and Muriel, shaking didn’t work, cool water didn't work, even smelling salts didn't revive her. What else was there to be done? It’s as if she was locked in a dream. So… what else to do other than just wait it out?

Hours then flew by, unsure what to do, the three of them just sat there. Just waiting. Hoping. Praying she’d just wake up. Soon the outside started to brighten up and the lamplighters started to douse the lanterns in the streets. And still nothing. Asra finally makes a fresh pot of tea for them all having nothing else to do.

As Asra hands Muriel a cup, he suddenly feels a strange sensation of a warm feather brushing against his cheek. As he looked all around him confused, there was nothing there, and Asra was across the room now over to Ilya. He realizes he can smell something eerily familiar.

“Wait….. Do you feel that??” Asra says quietly, feeling the same presents. At the same time he takes out the tarot cards.

Julain sharply looks around, yet keeping very still unaware and shakes his head confused. “....errrrr… Feel what, Love??”

“Shhh–” Asra places his pointer finger to his lips so he can still concentrate on this feeling as he looks at his tarot deck. He senses a particularly strong feeling from one in the middle, as he flips the card over he doesn’t know what to make of it. It is The Fool in reverse. “Rem… is this you?” He whispers looking intensely at the card trying to see what they're trying to tell him.

Muriel reaches out his large hand, feeling a very familiar warm aura hovering over Rhemi’s incapacitated body; it was faint, but still palpable. It’s some of Rhemi’s magic…. except… it didn’t feel exactly like hers…… It smells like ash… It feels like somehow whatever it is is reaching out for them.

Muriel then stands to his feet, wiping his wet face and nods his head glances at his friends. “I think…. No…. –I know what we have to do…”

With anticipation, Asra and Julian stare up at the tall man, ready to do whatever it takes to get Rhemi out of this trance.

✨To be continued…

[*Resurrects from the dead* DID YA 'LL MISS ME?? I missed all of you guys! I still really wanted to write this story because it bothered me I left it not completed. It's still a very long piece of work but I still think its a story worth telling. It was originally hard for me to tell it because it was triggering even for myself and I was struggling with self confidence and with Dorian buying out Nyx Hydra and effectively the fanbase dying out etc. etc., but even if I have one or two people reading this, it still makes me happy that I can give something to you! I am still creating and still writing, and I am healthiest (mentally I have been in a long time) I am even starting my own original story that I want to tell! It's gonna be Fantasy/Steampunk meets Westerns. So I hope I can still keep you hungry trash pandas still well feed with my hot garbage!]

Thank you my lovely trash pandas for (still) reading my hot garbage!

#the arcana #madllamamomma #the arcana game #muriel x apprentice #muriel #rhemi oc #muriel of the kokhuri #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my hot garbage #my hot trash #did ya miss me? I miss ya'll #Martin alarie #sir martin #oc x Muriel

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madllamamomma · 3 months

Text

The Visitor~ Part 10!!!

Part 10~

[WARNING: Contains various abuse, blood & slight gore.]

The Fox & The Bear~

As dawn breaks over the city, three friends, Muriel, Asra, and Julian find themselves scrambling to prepare for a half-baked makeshift ritual. Quickly, Muriel summarizes to Asra and Julian what has been happening within the realms of dreams, his father teaching him how to navigate within its confines of it, and the ghostly apparition of Rhemi’s past self that kept haunting her own dreams and how it was her presence that they felt reaching out to them a moments ago.

As time went on, after hours of waiting patiently for Rhemi to wake up on her own, it seemed like she was incapable of it. Even after using smelling salts it seemed useless, it was like she was lost within her own dreams. Perhaps that’s why the ghost of her former self was reaching out to Muriel and Asra with her magic, she had to be asking for help. And it seems like Muriel was the only one who was capable of pulling her out of the dream realm… or at least, he could try.

—––——––——

“... Do you really have to do this all alone, Muri?” Asra asks with a pleading look as he places a few half shards of broken clear quartz crystals around Rhemi’s shoulders and head. “...What if we just try to use the old spell to make her forget again?” He continues as he places an even smaller one on the center of her forehead where her third eye would be.

As Muriels collects myrrh and incense, still mostly scattered on the floor, as he purposely keeps his eyes away from his friend refusing to look at his sad face. “...Think that’s not gonna work… Besides, it’d be a disservice to her now… And didn’t she need to be awake for that?” Asra pauses his work for a moment, dropping his shoulders in frustration. Muriel was right, but Asra still loathes the idea that his other best friend could be doing something reckless. Just ignoring his protests, Muriel continues to scrounge for ingredients from the sea of mess that was now the shop after last night. “... Anyways, you should really stay here with Ilyan and Rem. My father said that only Leapers could go into other people’s dreams… Don’t know if–”

“—But do you even know what you are looking for?” Asra interrupts as he stands to his feet staring straight through the mountain man. “... Maybe Rhemi has regained her memories! You said yourself—Before going to the south after Lucio, you barely knew her!! What if she reverted to her old self, and she's unrecognizable to you??”

A large sigh emanates from his lips as he finally looks him in the eyes, feeling a touch annoyed with his persistence and constant questioning of his understanding of his fiancée. “…That doesn’t—”

“—AND! What if you get lost?” The magician starts to pace behind his tall friend as anxiety courses through his veins. Poor Julian is helpless but to watch his partner panic. “You two were not always close as you are now. And!–…And what if this vision of Rhemi is really just some kind of trap or an evil spirit wanting to trick you??” Ilyan finally reaches out for his partner’s wrist, stopping him from his panicked aimless movements and gently massages his hand to calm him down. He knew how worried he was. Everyone was worried. But you could see how Asra’s heart seemed to physically ache as he placed his other hand on his breast, rubbing his sternum.

The Kokhurian sits there for a moment pondering these questions. Asra was making some good points. Most were really stupid ones, but others were good. As Muriel thought about it more and more, doubt started to creep into his mind. What if he didn’t know Rhemi as well as he thought? What if he did get lost somehow? He wouldn't be stuck per say, he could always wake back up, he always found his way back to his body; that did not concern him whatsoever. However, he did want to find her as swiftly as possible so she’d awaken. With thoughts swirling around in his head, the Hermit exhales hard as he places a stick of lavender incense in its holder. “.... What would you even do if you came?” He finally replies and Asra stiffens for a second, not sure how to answer. “... This isn’t the Arcana Realm, or this world. Even I don’t understand all the rules yet.”

“Well….” Asra pauses for a moment, thinking quickly as he rubs his opposite shoulder sheepishly chewing on his bottom lip. “.... Two sets of eyes are better than one! I can help you look for her. –And! I can reach out to Ilya with my magic if we need to be woken up at any time.”

Muriel shakes his head slowly in silent protest, still not like this idea in the slightest. “Don’t need two people getting stuck there…”, He growls as he lights the incense with a long match.

Clutching the container still, Julian then realizes that perhaps he really could be useful and he sheepishly comes between the two long time friends. “Well…” He starts, and the both stand there quietly, staring at the doctor’s hand for a moment as he holds up the smelling salts container and wiggles it a bit. “I uhhh,.. I could wake you both if need be. No need for any spells or anything like that. Right? Seems simple enough for me to handle.”

The hermit stares hard at the small container in Julian’s long fingers and ponders a bit more and starts to rub the back of his neck. “...And if you fall asleep?” Muriel finally grumbles trying to look annoyed.

Julian stifles a chuckle as best he could showcasing his signature toothy smolder. “This is….ahhh–well… This is not the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter.” Giving Asra a knowing look and the magician scoffs a bit rolling his eyes. “I’ve worked nearly seven days straight once!”

“He did…” Asra says with a slightly annoyed tone hiding a tiny grin. “... Had put a sleeping potion in his tea to finally get him to sleep…”

The doctor’s smile falls as he looks into his partner’s eyes. “Goddamnit—Knew you lied about that…” he grumbles pouting slightly. “I almost broke the record, ya’ know!”

“... The hell do you mean ‘record'?!” Asra snaps back with a dumbfounded look on his face. “You were becoming delirious, Ilya! I found you at your desk, a filthy mess and sticking leeches to your face because you said, ‘they sucked out all the sleepy!’.. !!” He finishes that last part of the sentence with air quotes.

“You ruined a perfectly good experiment!”

“Experiment?!––”

Tuning out of the two of them bickering like an old married couple, Muriel thinks hard for a little while longer and they both go back and forwarth with their banter. It's one thing for him to risk going into the dream realm, he’s been there before so many times, it’s another to bring another person in, let alone Asra, one of his dearest friends. There was even a possibility that he could even get stuck there, he wasn’t a Leaper like Muriel. But he did have a strong magical aura. So perhaps he could make it back on his own? If not, surely Muriel could go back and get him if he got stuck… Right? Finally as they grow silent, he looks between the couple, still not exactly sure how he feels about the situation.

Muriel opens his mouth to start saying something, but just before he can, Asra lets out a deep tired sigh, very lightly wraps his hand around Muriel’s thick left wrist with tears in his eyes as he pleads. “Muri…. Please. I…. I should have done more to prevent this. I feel like this is partly my fault, I brought out the portrait–”

Muriel’s eyes soften and he tilts his head sadly. “No… Asra… it’s not–”

“–Please, Muri. Let me help you!... I care about Rhemi too...”

With his brow raised, feeling his heartbleeding for the magician as he finally understood. This wasn’t about him being afraid of him being lost. This is about him feeling guilty in all of this. Asra did everything he could to bring her back. So it makes sense that he was so willing to bring her back now. Muriel cocks back his head and closes his eyes tightly as he breathes hard through his nostrils with a low irritable grumble. Then he rubbed his tired face hard before finally uttering, “....Fine…”. Asra’s eyes light up as his friend begrudgingly agrees as he opens his eyes grouchily and pushes his hair out of his face. “Just... Just stick close… and you are to follow my every word.”

Asra nods his head in agreement, dry his eyes once again, finally feeling relieved. “Of course I will.”

“… Have to come and get you I suppose.” He adds folding his arms and scratching his scruffy neck looking up towards the ceiling, trying to think of a game plan.

“… Umm… yeah, sure—okay.” The white haired magician blinks a few times with a shrug agreeingly not really sure what exactly that meant.

“…. And umm…..” The hermit’s cheeks suddenly turn a bit red as he realizes that he left out a crucial detail and his eyes dart down to the floor. “D-…. Don’tbealarmedthatI’mabear…”

Nothing could be heard inside of the shop other than the ugly old coo-coo clock’s TICK TICK TICKing, making the silence all the more awkward. Asra and Julian gawked at Muriel with rather strange expressions on their faces and he just shrinks even deeper into his shoulders.

“Da– what???” Julian finally sputters out.

——–––—–————————

“…You ready, Muri?” Asra asks his friend, as the two get settled into their hastily crafted makeshift cots from the pillows and bedding from upstairs around the couch next to Rhemi. It seemed to be easier to leap into her dreams if she was right next to him. So maybe it will be the same for Asra, and perhaps this would make it easier to bring Asra into Rhemi’s dreams too.

As Muriel lays his body down, he shifts a pillow or two around to make sure he’s comfortable, not wanting to wake at an inopportune time because of one misplaced pillow. Once he finally was pleased with his positioning, he then looks back towards his friend and nods very seriously, “… Ready.”

The red haired doctor then steps over with his long bird legs, and kindly hands them both a quickly concocted sleeping potion Asra made from the few remains of ingredients that were left on the floor. It doesn’t smell the best, usually there is a flavoring or some kind of flavoring agent to mask the bad taste from the raw ingredients, but this will just have to do.

Before putting his drink to his lips, Asra reaches his cup full of the dubious liquid out toward his friend to gesture a toast and Muriel looks at him with his eyebrow raised. “... To Rhemi?” He says with a wary expression forcing a small hopeful grin, obviously unsure how this all was going to work out.

Julian brings in his cup of a fruity smelling, yet highly caffeinated tea with a hopeful smile. “To our Rhemi-Dear.”

Muriel’s face then softens and he cracks a small reassuring smile as he lifts his own cup towards his friends and replies, “…To Rem.”

The three ceramic cups meet with a satisfying CLINK before they all shoot their liquids down quickly. Julian sat there happily enjoying the wonderful warm tea, exhaling joyfully after his long sip. However the other two weren’t so lucky. They grimace hard and coughed from the pungent yet overly sweet taste of the elixir. It was disgusting. Asra nearly choked on it and Muriel forced a burp so he didn’t bring it back up again, and both of them stuck out their tongues with a “Blehh”, in unison from disgusting grittiness it left on their teeth.

Disgusting… but hella effective. As soon as the doctor collected their cups back, the two instantly started to feel their eyes and their bodies becoming heavy and tired. The two friends lay their heads down and start to drift to sleep, lulled away by the lavender incense and the myrrh as the potion kicks in. As soon as Muriel shuts his eyes, he starts to feel his hands and feet transforming into claws and feel his body grow larger and being covered in thick fur. The last thing he could hear from the real world was Julian's faint whisper, “Good luck…”

————

Looking around with his emerald eyes, Muriel feels the cold tundra under his paws, realizing he’s in the fields where Rhemi normally met him. ‘Good… it worked…’ he thinks to himself. Knowing what he must do, he dashes over the hillsides not wasting any time. As he seeks out his friend's aura, he starts to smell a familiar scent of sandalwood and lemongrass. Just as he gets over the hill, he then sees that there rests a purple doorway.

Conjuring his magic, he opens it up with ease, hoping that Asra would be waiting just on the other side of it. But he’s somewhat surprised to see the old wharf of Vesuvia. With a sigh, he stepped into the portal warily, everything looked completely different than in his memories, everyone and everything was so loud and busy, people would shove you around, step on your toes, gawk at your towering height, etc. But here things were rather still and bright, the colors were highly saturated as if he was walking into a vivid painting. Oddly, no one seemed to be bothered with his presence, as they calmly walked about somewhat ignoring this massive bear in the middle of town square, which was concerning at first, but he honestly preferred it after a while. If only people were like this in reality… As the bear continues to walk the streets, he starts to wonder if he should even be here. Perhaps it was better to just leave Asra here in the safety of his own dreams, God only knows what he may be bringing him into. But as soon as the idea flickers in his mind, he hears a stir coming from under a small cloth with a few skinny sticks keeping it up. It was a short tent–a very sad, short, little tent. He suddenly remembered that pathetic thing. Asra made it for him and Muriel so many years ago when they lived here on the streets. In fact it was made about a couple of weeks or so after they met, but Muriel quickly outgrew it in a few months after hitting another growth spurt.

With a few large sniffs from his large black nose, the creature under the cloth scurries a bit, and slowly pops out only his brown nose to investigate. The scent of sandalwood and lemongrass filling the air. The bear backs up as he waits for his friend to come out watching as this little orange nose sniffs the air, yet still refuses to come out. Losing his patients, the bear gently rips the cloth off of the skinny sticks revealing a fox with purple eyes and white eyelashes.

Frozen stiff for a moment out of the shock, the fox’s ears pin back and his fur raised as he backed up carefully, still sniffing the air. With a grumpy sigh, the surly-looking bear plopped to a seat just waiting for the fox to understand that he wasn’t in any danger. Eventually, realizing who this bear was, with its peaceful yet grumpy demeanor, he immediately calmed himself and drew closer and nuzzled up to him a bit.

“Come on…” Muriel instructs, but all that comes out is a low rumbling growl that cracks like distant thunder. The fox tilts his head and makes a few chirping noises in confusion. The bear then huffs again, thinking, ‘Of course he can’t understand me…', he then just points with his nose out the portal, making it more apparent.

All the fox can do in response is to squeak, chirp, and whimper, and is surprised by all the new noises coming from his mouth. But regardless, he follows him closely, and evenly exiting his own dreamscape walking back into the Steppe.

With determination and focus, the two walk out of the field, ignoring all of Muriel’s own dreams and into a gray void solely following the scent of ash and decay. Asra can feel Muriel’s magic as he opens another doorway, this one into a portal with a mixture of burning wood, decaying ash mixed with freshly cut apples, jasmine, and pumpkin bread. The bear looks down to the fox jerking his head towards the opening, gesturing him to jump inside. The fox takes a step back, rearing his behind up for a dismount, then hastily jumps through the doorway without a sound. Happy to see that it worked, he looks back letting out a happy chirp. The bear starts to feel a bit more relaxed, and he finally enters himself. They soon find themselves in another desolate landscape with nothing around by gray and white.

The two trot onwards still following the scent until they approach a large wall. Muriel recalled encountering a wall such as this one once before with Rhemi at the Steppe when she was having a bad nightmare. The wall was translucent and acted like a force field, it felt like cold stone when touched and on the other side was a set of doors of some kind, just standing there on their own. Two large wooden doors lay on the ground and they were broken and half burnt, looking like something bursted from the inside out. But whatever it was, it didn’t seem to have left much of a trace and the fire damage looked like it was old. Since it was left wide open, you could even see down in the entryway into some kind of hallway, and it seemed to be quite sizable on the inside.

Muriel focuses his energy and magic onto Rhemi’s aura and tries to open the wall up rather than having to muscle his way through like last time. He really didn’t want to wake up for any reason either, and slamming yourself into a wall doesn’t seem the proper way to do that. It took a moment, but finally part of the wall crumpled in and broke open. Luckily, it wasn’t very hard to get open this time. In fact, it even seemed to have welcomed him in, which was relieving yet highly suspicious at the same time. However, the moment after two warily enter, the wall ominously hums before it starts to shift the transparent stones back into their places, mending itself back together asif not wanting anything else to enter. Muriel looks back at the translucent wall squinting his eyes, gazing at it suspiciously not fully knowing what that exactly meant.

As the two trundled on inside, it became rather apparent that this wasn’t like any dreamscape Muriel had ever been to, it was strange even for them. It was reminiscent of how the Arcana realms were, the colors were oversaturated than the normal world, yet at the same time it felt hazy. Looking all around inside, it seemed like they walked into a chateau or manor of some kind, but it was impossibly larger than any mere home. It had boundless doors unlike anything they had ever witnessed. It was much too vast to exist in the real world with its unconventional size, it could probably house three of Nadia’s castles comfortably inside of it. However, it felt more organized in a way, dreams and the Arcana realms both have a sense of randomness and nonsensical fluidity; one minute you're in one place, the next you can be transported somewhere completely different. But this place felt like it was grounded in structure and it was very detailed, but still couldn’t have been real.

As the two animals proceed cautiously, they make their way to the heart of the manor, which could only be described as a large dilapidated grand gathering room or ballroom. Remnants of a large grand piano sat sadly in the corner, a handful of fancy couches with missing legs and chairs with boring colors scattered about, and a heavy oak table rested along the far wall with pieces of dishes and cups scattered about its surface. Above, they saw broken large gothic-style windows above that were impossibly tall and long, housing fractured yet pretty stained glass with various colors. Outside were purpley-red sky with swirling gray clouds accompanied by low howling winds that added a layer of eeriness. Fire must have broken out at one point, it was evident from the charred black burns all on the furniture, the walls, and even parts of the ceiling. Some of the pieces still smoldered and had hot coals that burned. But upon closer inspection, it seems like there are various wild flowers, ivy vines and other pretty greenery that were somehow taking root in some of the ashes, making these ruins oddly beautiful yet still creepy.

The grand ballroom was connected by two long mirroring hallways that had three stories and branching off of them were small wings and corridors like streams to a river. The main set of stairs split into three as they cascade along the sides of the ballroom. The top floors had rickety wooden railings that overlooked down to the bottom floor and on the ceiling above hung the skeletons of what were once fully embellished crystal chandeliers.

Trying his best not to get distracted, Muriel decided to not waste time and started off going to the left and up the staircase to the second floor, sniffing for the other Rhemi’s scent. Asra followed closely, finding himself marveled at this strange manor panning his little neck left and right trying to take it all in. ‘No wonder Rhemi is lost in this dream’, The fox thought.

The wooden floors under the ripped up carpets creaked and groaned with every step as they walked along the corridor. The wallpaper seemed to change colors the further you went, however the floral pattern remained the same dark black damask style. He also couldn't help but notice the various designs, colors, shapes and sizes of doors as they passed them by, no two seemed to be alike. More interestingly, he noticed the ones closer to the grand ballroom were badly burnt and damaged to match the rest of the ballroom. Some of them were burnt beyond any kind of repair with their doors completely being totally eviscerated. Inside their rooms held nothing but the destroyed furniture, ash, and wildflowers. While some doors had varying degrees of damage, others doors were shut up and locked tight, a few even being hastily boarded up with various chains and locks, and even had signs that read, ‘No Pas Entrer’ (Do Not Enter in Charlésian). Most doors however were held with normal locks while a handful were open and left slightly cracked with nothing behind them but empty small, but clean rooms. The further they got away from the more damaged area, it seemed like the doors became more pristine and untouched by the flames. But still, most were locked up tight, and not another soul was in sight. Rhemi had to be here. She must be in one of these rooms… But which one? It didn’t help that her scent seemed to be everywhere in this place.

Undeterred by the challenge, the fox and bear straight away try the handles to the closed doors, attempting to find any that would turn for them. But as they soon discovered, neither had opposable thumbs. With a quick glance to one another, they both think for a moment before getting creative. They pawed, clawed, bit, and even attempted to break down the doors. After a while of futile attempts, a confused Muriel plopped down on his ass and stared at the door he was trying to break. This one was orange and yellow, and despite his immense weight and it being made of just wood, it didn’t budge. But of course they were normal doors, this wasn’t the real world, so physics doesn't work the same way as the real world. Realizing this, he lets out a heartfelt huff as he starts to feel like they’d never succeed. Until…

CLICK!!– the sound startles him as he turns his head toward the fox who was about five doors down. At long last! Somehow Asra gets his teeth around the bronze handle of a sage green door and it opens outwards.

CREEEEEEEAK—

The door swings open, the pair eagerly ready to see what was hiding behind them. But to their utter surprise, out walks a child in a pink foreign dress was pressed tightly to her chest as if she was holding something behind her small palms.

Startled at the sudden sight of a living being in this desolate place, the two animals quickly exchange rather bewildered looks, then stare back toward the girl. She shuts the door using her back pressed to the front of the door, wearing a rather blank expression, and they had no time to look to see what was on the other side, but it looked like there was sunlight behind it. Strangely, she didn’t seem surprised nor afraid at the sight of them, not even joyful or well… anything for that matter—just rather indifferent as she stared back expressionless. Upon a closer study of the child, they start to notice that she had brownish-red hair and large burgundy round doe eyes. It's Rhemi!…. Or at least her child self? She must have been no older than ten or eleven. Oddly, she didn’t smell like the one they both knew and loved. She definitely didn’t smell anything like the dead Rhemi who stunk of burning flesh and ashy decay, so it couldn’t have been that one. This one smells like fresh apple blossoms and jasmine tea like Rhemi always did, and yet, something was off, it was like the scent didn’t quite fit her. It was like a child who doused herself in their mother’s perfume, it was as if it was too mature of a smell for a mere young girl to be wearing. It was also lacking a certain warm undertone that she always had. The part of her scent that reminded Muriel of a warm hearth, and felt like home. But why was that sense of home missing from her?

With her same blank expressionless face, she bravely approaches the two creatures without an ounce of fear in her eyes, still cupping whatever was in her hands tightly to her chest as if she had a secret she wanted to share.

Rather curious, Asra steps closer and sniffs her clenched hands with intrigue. Her gaze drops to him and she kneels down to his level and she starts to reach out her hands towards him. He eagerly awaits for her to reveal what she was hiding and the purple eyed fox brought himself even closer with anticipation. She sluggishly opens her hands, proudly showing him her treasure that clanked behind her palms like small stones; it was about five bloody teeth. She even opens her mouth a bit, displaying that a couple of her teeth on both rows were missing, leaving her gums bloody and red.

The fox’s eyes widen and ears pull back as he steps away with a small foxish ‘eep!’ The bear furrows his brow and his body stiffens in disdain, but he hardly moves. Nearly everyone dreams about their teeth falling out, but it was still rather alarming to see someone’s teeth instead of his own. But he’s seen worse, much worse in fact. However what really drew his attention was something other than the teeth clanking around her little palms. Now that her hands were away from her torso, he saw that there was a gaping hole in the center of her little chest. It wasn’t graphic or horrific or anything, it was just… well, a hole, perfectly spherical, about the size of a coconut or grapefruit, that went straight through her, light even shown through from the other side.

Asra glances his purple fox eyes towards his bear friend not knowing what to do and he can’t help but sit there helplessly shaking his head with a sharp shrug… Was this their Rhemi? Did she somehow revert back to a child? Or was this just another vision? Or a dream version?… If so, what did she want from them?—And where was their Rhemi? –Nothing felt like it made sense. But really, when does it ever really make sense in a dream?

Just as a soft grunt leaves Muriel’s lips wanting to attempt to communicate with her, the girl stands back up to her feet and slightly turns her face away from them. Taking a single tooth and holding it with her thumb and index finger, she blows on it gently and a shiny bubble forms around it, delicately encasing the bloody tooth. It floats in the center and even spins in circles inside of it. Slowly, she let it go and the bubble whisked away down the corridor. One by one she blows the teeth away whimsically, the bubbles gently blowing in their own direction down the hallways and even falling down to the first floor or floating to the third like they all had minds of their own. For a moment the two animalistic apparition’s eyes follow the bubbles as they float away into the distance of this fractured chateau seeing where they’d land. Once they slightly touch any surface, they pop satisfyingly, the tooth vanishing alongside their bubble that encases them. Once the last bubble disappears, the two friends both shake back to their senses, and glance back to where the young Rhemi stood. But she was gone.

Panicked, not wanting to lose her, the two look around ferociously, finally finding the girl sprinting towards what looks to be one of the burnt doors closer to the center of the manor. With a swift wave of her hand, a drearily looking red and purple door unlocks with a satisfying CLUNK and she pulls it wide open making a terrible sounding CREAK resonate from its rusty hinges. For a moment, she stares and waits before calmly stepping inside. Asra and Muriel quickly race towards it before it can close back shut, making the old floor underneath them shake violently; trying to get to it before losing her.

Running full speed into the room and making it just in time before the door swings back shut, they find themselves swallowed in a dark void with a single spotlight with the room mostly filled with smoke and smelled of a smoldering fire. Under the spotlight was the young Rhemi as she sat on the floor with her hands holding her little face. However, as they looked closer yet again, the hole in her chest was gone, and she had a completely different outfit and she seemed to be even younger than ever before, maybe seven or eight. Her front teeth were missing and she was wearing a doll-like dress that was white. And a beautiful woman with dirty blonde hair in a stylish updo and in a fancy blue satin dress sat by her and clasped her shoulder, worry painted on her face. Muriel lets out a grunt as he recognizes the woman from the portrait from dinner the night before. This was Florence, Rhemi’s mother.

Muriel steps closer mumbling Rhemi’s name just for it to come out as grunts and growls, forgetting again that she couldn’t understand him. But as he approaches the two under the spotlight, he feels a strong magnetic force push him away. Taken by surprise, he tries a few more times to muscle his way toward them, but the spotlight seems to act like a strong force field, pushing outsiders away. He stops and sniffs the barrier to investigate and he soon realizes that there was no scent, nor a magical aura like the young Rhemi with the hole in her chest had. There was nothing but the smell of smoke that enveloped the room. We’re these just illusions? No… there would be a scent from magic… So what is this then?

He then takes a seat as he tilts his head staring at the younger Rhemi as she sits on the floor with her mother and he feels his chest becoming increasingly heavy as she lets out a painful whine.

“…It… It stings!! Ahhh—it… it hurts!!” She starts blinking rapidly at first, but then her eyelids start to swell closed and her face becomes feverish and hot. “…My—my eyes don’t work!! Mummmy!!!”, she starts to scream with such sheer panic in her voice as she rubs her eyes harder with one hand, blinding searching for her mother with the other.

Fear fully sets in as Florence clutches Rhemi to her breast pulling her hand away from her face. “Huush!! Shhhh!.. Rhemielia, Sweetie. I-It’s alright, baby. I'm here! Mummy’s here… J-just try and bear it a little longer… the spell shouldn't take—”

“—OOWW!!!! MUMMY!! IT BURNS!!! PLEASE!! MAKE IT STOP!! IT HURTS!! MY EYES HURT!!” She suddenly starts to wriggle about clearly in an immense amount of pain while tears pepper the floor and she starts to kick her little feet and scream.

Sad whimpers spill out of the bear’s throat as he places his large paw on the barrier wanting nothing else but to comfort the little Rhemi as she desperately shrieks in pain. What was even happening to her? Why was she in such pain?

Finally having enough as her bottom lip quivers, Florence glances up pleadingly to someone out of view as she tries to stop her daughter from clawing her swollen eyelids with her fingernails. “Darling, you have to stop this! It isn’t working! Please!”

A low distorted voice answers from the darkness, their words indistinguishable muddled muttering.

Seemingly understanding what it had said, Florence shakes her head, her chestnut eyes wet, petting her daughter’s hair trying her best to comfort the child. “—She can go blind!! Isn’t her sight more important than changing her eye color for court?!” Rhemi cried hard into her mother’s chest as she tried to hold her down so she didn’t scratch her eyes or squirm aimlessly about.

Asra lowers his head as he watches little Rhemi screams in pain, his purple eyes start to ream with tears as he watches her helplessly. ‘Her… Her eye color?’ He thinks to himself. ‘Who would do that?? Everyone knows there isn’t a spell that could change your eye color that wouldn’t damage your eyesight, or worse. Who would do such a thing?? And to a small child for that matter???’

“—Darling, please!!! W-We’ll find a different way!! Please, this is hurting her!!” Rhemi’s mother begs as she starts to cry herself. “Now please for god sake, give her the counter spell!!”

With a defeated sounding huff, a dark figure creeps into view of the spotlight as it kneels beside Florence and Rhemi. Still indistinguishable, the dark smoky figure takes Rhemi from her mother’s arms and cups her small face rather gently with their right hand. With her puffy eyes now glued shut, the figure waves their left hand conjuring a purple and black magic to their fingers as they say a few words from a strong counter spell. Finally, the redness and swelling starts to dissipate, and she exhales a relieved sounding breath as her nose starts to run and she flutters her doe eyes painfully back open. The figure wipes away her tears with their thumbs, then slightly pulls down her bottom eyelids checking to make sure that the spell was completely gone. The poor thing’s sclera were rather painfully red with broken blood vessels around the irises. But she squints her eyes again. “... Too bright..”, she mutters as she shields her eyes from the overhead lights. With a flick of the figure’s wrist, the lights suddenly became dimmer, as she finally relaxed, but still squinting her eyes trying to see through them. Exhausted, yet relieved from the agony, her little body finally melts down into the figure’s hands. But as soon as the pain subsides, a look of guilt washes over her little face as Rhemi sobs into the dark figure’s hands and clutches their right wrist. “I-…. I’m sorry, Papa… I tried to be brave. I… I wanted to be good… but-…but it hurt, Papa!!!” She starts to sob again making her eyes even more painful. “I’m… S-Sorry…”

The dark figure starts to morph into actual human features under the smoky blob. His purple locks, his overly fancy linen shirt, and his blue teal eyes beaming regretfully into his daughter's sad face as he wipes away her tears as she continues to sob. “N-No… no, I—.” Martin abruptly stops himself mid apology, perhaps about to admit something he shouldn’t. He shakes his head, clears his throat loudly and his teal eyes turning somewhat colder again. “I-…It’s alright my little Pigeon. You did your best. We just need to try harder next time, yes??”

She sniffles a bit and nods her little head, still shaking like a leaf. “M–Mmm-Hmm.”

Pulling his lips tightly into his mouth he nods and forces a small fake grin as he wraps his arms around her tightly, her cries muffed by his velvet plum vest. “Perhaps… We’ll just try something else. Something else has to work…” He says patting her little back comfortingly staring off into space, his thoughts a million miles away. “I won’t give up on you, Pigeon.”

Florence sits there with tears sluggishly dripping down her cheeks as she stares at her husband’s face. A look of horror and twinge of scorn as she hears his words. Asra could only imagine what Rhemi’s mother must have felt. This was appalling. Putting your innocent young child in such unnecessary distress was unforgivable. The fox then could feel a low rumble vibrating throughout his chest as his eyes traveled over to see the bear. His fur raised, shoulder hiked, his eyes glare loathing right at Sir Martin’s face as he gnashes his sharp teeth at him. How dare he do this to her…

Without any warning, the spotlight shuts off, the forcefield diminishes, and the two animals are left in the dark yet again. Both pairs of ears swivel as they hear a swift set of footsteps trundle behind them to turn where the door was. It flies open and the silhouette of the young Rhemi returns, the hallway lights illuminating the hole in her chest as she pauses there seemingly waiting for her guests to follow. The fox and the bear darted towards her, and as soon as they were close enough she took off yet again, this time towards a door with light blue and white trim around it. This one was just as badly burnt if not more than the first, however this one was one of the doors that were labeled, “Do not enter”, equipped with heavy chains, boards, and nails, keeping it locked up tight. But with another wave of her little hand, all the boards and chain effortlessly flew off the door and dropped to the ground with a heavy THUD and it swung open wide.

Tirelessly, Muriel and Asra sprint to enter the room, trying to catch the little flighty thing, but they find that once again the little girl has vanished. The door behind them CLICKS back shut leaving them in total darkness. The two of them coughed a bit as they sat in the dark, this room was still badly filled with hot smoke and embers, it made the fox and bear slightly choke.

They nearly jump out of their skins as another spotlight returns with a loud CLUNK, and they find a new young Rhemi yet again, maybe a few years older than the last vision, at least nine or ten. She sat on the ground in a cute pastel light green and lavender dress with lace ruffles and a large silk bow in her hair. This time however, she seemed like she was in much happier spirits as she sat on a pretty soft blue picnic blanket. The bear and fox had to squint their eyes at the swirling ash to see, but then they soon realized that she was holding a beautifully wrapped box with purple and gold wrapping paper and a blue bow that tied it. Suddenly two women appear side by side looking across from Rhemi as she inspects the box carefully. From the looks of it, this vision seemed much more relaxed than the previous one was. Despite it being so murky through the smoke and ash, it looked like it was bright and beautiful. All their feet were bare, their dresses loosened and more casual, and food was spread across the blanket with a small half eaten cake off to the side. Why was this locked up tight?

The first woman was tall, had beautiful dark skin like rich warm cacao, her eyes a golden yellow, her tight short curly hair tied up in an orange silk scarf and she wore a more traditional Charlésian linen dress, but had a dark green Throthian’s overcoat that was rich in texture and colors and she clearly no corset or petticoats as she lazily leaned to her side. She sat there trying to stifle a large smile as she watched little Rhemi stare at the present. Muriel then realized it was Rhemi’s Aunt Athena. But back then, her name was just Phara. And really…she wasn’t even her aunt. She was her teacher…. And her mother’s lover.

Asra looks at the woman with a faint melancholy, it’s been about five years since his master died. And seeing her face still stung deeply. Just like Rhemi, he didn’t get to say goodbye, and the constant feeling of unspoken words still haunted him.

Next to Phara was Rhemi’s mother yet again, but this time with her long dirty blonde hair loose and waves flowed freely down her back. She was wearing a much simpler dress than before made from light cotton material in a softer grayish white and blue shawl. Despite her beauty, her eyes seemed to have bags underneath them and she even looked a little pale… Was she sick?

Phara presses her lips into her mouth from the anticipation as her student still hesitantly stares at the box, finally noticing the small holes on the top of the lid; she ran over them with the tip of her index finger and she tilted her head confused. Then she nearly jumps out of her skin as it softly jostles and moves all on its own.

“Well… go on. It shouldn’t bite!” Phara says encouragingly. As soon as she spoke, Muriel then realized he remembered this woman. He knew her from back in his days at the colosseum. He thought she was just some random healer; But it was so long ago now and she did look differently back then. Maybe he put it out of his mind, he was fond of dissociating back then. Of course she looked familiar…

But the bear shakes himself out of his thoughts as watches on with Little Rhemielia. She seems to take a brave breath in as she carefully removes the lid keeping her distance. She warily flutters her eyes, not seeing anything inside and inches slightly closer. But then, a little furry orange and white head pops out with a little cute squeak as it sniffs cautiously in the air and Rhemi’s eyes suddenly light up with excitement. She inhales sharply as she scoops the little creature gently out of the box and squeals happily, “IT’S YOU!! IT’S YOU!!!” She says as she clutches the small adolescent ferret in her hands.

Recognizing Rhemi’s face, the critter quickly perks up and it happily crawls up her arm and makes little cute squeaking noises as it nuzzles up her cheek, his whiskers ticking her nose and he nibbles on her hair making her giggle. “REM-REM!” It says with a squeaky little voice in her head. Strangely, Asra and Murile could hear his little squeaky voice in their ears too, it was a high pitched voice, and it matched his whirry energy.

Muriel’s eyes widen and stomach drops as he realizes who this little creature was. It was Ezavior, her familiar. An epiphany creeps into the Kokhurian’s mind as he watches this scene continue to play out. He glanced at where the door was, and realized that there was no mere dreamscape anymore. These are her memories. Raw memories. That must be why they are all locked shut, these are the memories she didn’t remember. As his green eyes pan back over to the small ferret, he begins to understand why this door was nailed shut. Her panicked reaction back in the south started to make more sense. Some memories are more difficult to remember than others… he could understand that more than anyone.

Phara smiles brilliantly, clapping her hands together and her dimples proudly beaming, laughing jollily at Rhemi’s excitement. “Happy birthday, mon petit oiseau.”

But Florence shoots her a hard look as she whispers, “... A pet?” Rhemi's smile fades as she peers over at her mother hanging into every word, the excitement pulled away from her. “... Phara, why on earth did you get her a pet??”

But Phara just smiles and shrugs as she takes a long swig of wine then pops a couple of grapes in her mouth. “Mmm! She saw him when we went to the market and she said he could hear him talk to her. Only familiars can be connected like that. So he isn’t a pet–” she says with her mouth half full, not caring for etiquette at the moment.

“But… Martin! He would never–” Fear washes over her mothers face as she pounders about this more and more. “He isn’t going to–”

“Pffft!” Unfazed, Phara runs her hand up Florence’s thigh rather intimately, seemingly easing Rhemi’s mother’s nerves instantly. “... Martin hired me to help Rhemieilia control her magic, and a familiar is an excellent way to do that.” Florence’s cheeks turn a bit pink as she stares at Phara’s hand placement. Realizing herself, the Thorthian magician pulls her hand quickly away rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly hoping Rhemi didn’t notice. But even if she did, she wouldn't know what it meant. The affair must have started not too soon before this moment. They both looked rather guilty yet yearned for more.

Stifling a flirtation grin, Florence quickly shakes out of her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “... But he is going to ask questions, Phara. And I never asked permission if you both could leave the grounds… So she shouldn’t have been close to any animals to have a connection with, especially ferrets from the shopping district…. And my husband isn't the kind of person you just ask forgiveness rather than permission..”

“... Ohh…” Phara's smile falls as she realizes Florence’s predicament, perhaps she overstepped. “... Flora, dear—I’m… I’m sorry. Perhaps it would have been wiser if I discussed this with you… I just thought it would be more fun if this was a surprise.” She says apologetically as she holds Florence’s hand discreetly behind their legs. “...Perhaps I overstepped this time?”

The young little Rhemi and Ezavior look at each other refusing to be apart, her eyes darting around the blanket as the gears turn in her head, quickly concocting a plan. A little cute grin creeps on her face as she slaps the blanket with determination. “I’ll keep him hidden!!”

Muriel can feel the corners of his lips as they form into a small strange animalistic smile as he sees her light up. This version of Rhemi shared the same adorable excited face that his version had when she got all ecstatic about something. Her enthusiasm was always contagious to him, he used to hate how it made him feel before, but now… it was home.

“–Papa doesn’t need to know!” She continued with a proud and rather serious looking expression.

In awe Florence stares at her daughter with a bit of disappointment. “Rhemielia, sweety… we can’t lie about–”

“—It’s not lying… It’s just not telling.” She rebuttals almost scarily quick. “… You’ve said that before. Remember? When we went to the market?”

Florence and Phara both glance at each other, taken by surprise, a bead of sweat on their brows looking rather guilty. “-That's not exactly the lesson we want you to learn–” Phara replies with a scolding tone.

“—Please! Oh please!!!” Her eyes got even bigger and more pleasing as she desperately begged. “… Don’t take Ezavior away! I'll take good care of him!! I promise!!!”.

“—Ezavior?!”

“–Ezavior??” The two women exclaim in unison.

Her mother can’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief and her forehead wrinkled as her eyebrows raise. “Y-... You named him already? You just met the creature!”

The child nods her head hard and adorably as she clutches him carefully to her heart and he snuggles up to her sweetly. “Yep! He’s got a name now—that makes him family!! And you can’t take away a family member!” She says sticking out her bottom lip in a cute pout dropping her chin. “Pweeeaassssse????”

Florances shakes her head again from her daughter’s whining, and searches for a responsible answer as she stares at Phara for a moment. The lady magician shrugs and whispers reassuringly. “I really do think that he would be good for her, Flora. She really does need something to help her focus her magic.” She leans in more just below a whisper, not thinking Rhemi could hear. “… Besides, the child doesn’t have any real friends she can talk to.”

Florence looks back toward her daughter, she watches as she gives Ezavior a baby carrot and he munches on it adorably. Slowly considering this situation, her mother leans her torso over and grabs the neck of the bottle of wine and takes a long swing from the bottle. “Yes… but what about Beatrix? The little beady-eyed gremlin would sniff him out rather quickly.” She says, whipping the wine off her lips with her forearm like a peasant.

Phara then scoffs and waves her hand dismissively making a minty green shimmering mist around her long neatly trimmed fingers. “Pshh!! Never you mind that wee-ugly beasty. I can whip something up and his scent will practically be nonexistent.”

Shaking with anticipation, the cute girl holds her breath as she sticks out her little bottom lip and pouts and looks up at her mother with her large pleading red doe eyes. “So… Can I keep him, Mummy? Pleaaaaassseeee?”

A soft groan leaves her lips, placing the bottle back down to the blanket and she rubs her face and neck as she thinks on it for a moment, knowing she had little choice now. The corners of her lips then sprout a beautiful and dainty smile as she looks between Phara and Rhemielia and she finally gives her daughter a nod.

With sheer pure excitement and joy, Rhemi leaps to her feet as she squeals, “YESS!!! YES! YES! YES! THANK YOU, MUMMY! THANK YOU, MASTER!! THANK YOU!!!!” She wraps her arms around her mother and Athena’s shoulders for a quick hug before returning to dancing as the little creature squeaks happily along with her.

The two women laugh at her pure childish glee as Florence leans into Phara’s shoulder trying their best not to be overly affectionate, yet they also can’t help but steal a loving glance or two. The young child clutches the sweet little ferret to her face and he snuggles his small head onto her right cheek. “–But! We need to eventually tell your father about him...” Florence quickly socks, pointing her finger.

Her words start to fade and the spotlight starts to extinguish like a dying fire. The last thing they could see was Rhemi snuggling up to the small ferret looking so joyous and grateful to finally have a friend of her own and the ash soon smothers out the bittersweet scene.

Darkness once again chokes the room as the memory ends. The door behind them flies open as the young Rhemi rips out of the room and into the next one. Muriel can’t help but roll his eyes and drop his shoulders before he picks up his heavy limbs to chase after the small girl yet again. This time, she clambered up the stairs towards the third floor, and ran down the hallway in what felt like forever towards the least damaged area. Finally, she opened a slightly charred door that was painted crimson red and ashy black and hard scrapes and stitches woven into the wood. It was the least damaged of the three so far, and it was the furthest away from the ballroom. She then strangely hung onto the door, playfully swinging it back and forth as she waited for her guests to catch up. Her blank expression finally falls into a tiny wry grin as if this was some kind of deranged game of cat and mouse. Just like before, as they drew close enough, she ran inside the door. How was she this fast?? The two wondered, surprised by not feeling fatigued by all this chasing.

The two dash inside the new room expecting a very faded memory like the last with nothing but a spotlight. They were however dumbfounded when they found that this room housed a much more pristine vision. Instead of being in the manor, they found themselves back in Vesuvia in what appears to be the old cells in the colosseum. However the old arena wasn’t like it was today, half in ruin and the other part housing a shady market. No, this was kept up and furnished and fresh blood drenching the floors.

Muriel stops in tracks for a moment not sure what to think of this sudden transportation to such a dark time. It was almost exactly how he remembered this terrible place, he spent so many miserable years here and didn’t want to relive them. He snarls a bit showing his long teeth, what were they doing here anyways?? Rhemi never came to the colosseum… Well except for that one time–but it can’t be… or wait… was this exactly that time? Admittedly, he had long forgotten it himself (yet again) until this very moment, and wasn’t keen on remembering it either. This was so long ago now and it was such a low point in his life.

He hesitantly points his paws to head back to the door that happened to still be open wanting nothing but to escape. But Asra sleekly runs under his friend’s feet, racing to what the next vision had to share, too curious for his own good. Muriel unintentionally digs his claws into the ground underneath watching as the door shuts and he grumbles irritably before following his friend.

Memorized by the clarity of this scene, the fox takes a seat as if he was watching on like a spectator at a puppet show on a street corner back home in the real world. Begrudgingly the bear follows suit, feeling himself shrink into massive shoulders wanting to make himself disappear. He never liked thinking back to any of his days here. And now he was forced to relive it.

At first there were no people, but only the stage of the cell without the onlooking wall, however there were noises all around and voices without any bodies to them. But soon Rhemi appeared holding the leather strap to her bag tightly and clasping a basket full of food and a bottle of mead. Unlike the child version of her they’ve seen so far, this one was about eighteen or nineteen. She had on some kind of creamy-white long sleeved linen overcoat with a bright lapis and gold strapless shirt poking out underneath and wore an embellished with a corset belt. She also wore a pair of brown pants that tied at the knees and flared out a bit and had on a pair of brown and gold sandals. Her hair was cut rather short, resting just above her shoulders.

The nearly middle aged guard gives her a large over flirty toothy smile as he escorts her to the locked cell in front of the two animal specters, which curiously no one was in. Even more curious, the guard’s face didn’t have any defining details, all that the bear and fox could see were his piercing brown eyed gaze, and crooked yellow teeth. “… Your Aunt typically works with this one,” he says, trying to sound cool as takes the keys out to open the door and she tries not to sneer in disgust at the guard or the mess made down there by that day’s bloody events. “… He normally has the most wounds of the gladiators anyways.” He continues as he opens the door waiting only on the outside of the bars.

“Oh… thank you!” She replies with a slightly frightened look on her face slowly stepping into the cell, the basket in her hands jarring to tremble.

“You… uh…. You going to be ok in there, little Miss? Athena normally goes in by herself—”

“—I think I can manage then!” She arrogantly says with a fake smile, visibly getting irritated.

Suddenly a large human mass appears inside of the cell towards the back corner. He had long black tangly hair that covered most of his face, and was only wearing his gladiatorial tunic and a sad pair of sandals on his large feet. He must have just finished the fight not that long before, he looked terrible.

The bear gulps hard, feeling his cheeks heat up under his thick fur at the sight of himself and Asra sadly hangs his head as he glances towards his friend. He never saw him when was in the cells like this and it was worse than he ever could have imagined.

Once the gladiator turned his head, his green beady eyes met hers, and both state for a moment a bit shocked at their sudden reunion. Rather relieved, Rhemi’s shoulders relax as she realizes who this person really was, but she acts annoyed and adds an unnecessary layer of bitchiness to her tone. “Huh… Well, well, well~ If this isn’t my lucky day! It’s Blanket-boy!”

Quickly, he shifts his eyes looking past her shoulder with a look of horror. “Y-...you?! …. W-Why–” He abruptly stops himself and turns his entire body away from her as he sits firmly on the small stool.

His cell was considerably larger than the others, but it was noticeably just as tight when he was in it. There was almost nothing to furnish this cell either, other than a bed made of stray covered with a dark greenish black blanket (the one he always hid under), the small wooden stool, a bucket full of water, and a sad commode in the corner, there was nothing other than itchy straw, hard cobblestone, the iron bars and chains to keep him company.

“...Get out…” He gruffly snarls, clutching his bloody arm tightly as blood oozes from between his fingers. His eyes fixed back to the floor and his face twisted into a rather disgusted expression.“…Don’t need you…” He was somewhat cleaned up, the blood of his opponents was at least washed off of him, but his wounds were still freshly open and even started to drip to the floor.

“Well—I Can’t… ya see??” She starts leaning her body onto the cell door, crossing her arms and legs lazily just as Asra and Athena did, making the guard behind her become squished between the bar doors and the wall. “... ‘Thena’s out of town, and she sent me to come and taking care of the Scourge, so, lucky for you, here I fuckin’ am!–Because nobody else wanted this job!” She lies at that last part. Asra volunteered but Athena wouldn’t let him. Now that she sees who the Scourge truly is, she understands why. “...So, I suggest you just sit there all bruting-like on your little stool in the corner over there and we can just get this over with.” She huffs as she presses her body off of the bars, freeing the guard, and she waltzes further into the cell.

The gladiator makes a low growl as he scowls at her as she rummages for some bandages in her bag. Watching her feet as they trundle closer, he visibly becomes more and more uneasy. Yet again, she was here to heal him at his worst and he grabbed his arm even tighter, hating this entire thing. In a final act of protest, he pushes his stool with his uninjured leg in her opposite direction, making a loud dragging noise echo throughout the surrounding vacant cells and stops in her tracks.

Now actually annoyed, she throws down her arm, stomps her left foot down and scoffs, “...Seriously?” Placing her free hand on her hip sassily, he sits there silently trying to look as small as possible, refusing to look up from the ground.

Watching from the outside, Muriel couldn’t help but feel like these versions of him and his fianceé were absolute strangers to him now. He’s not really like this person doing his damndest to disappear in a corner full of shame, not being able to look people in the eye for less than a second before shriving into himself. At least not anymore he isn’t. Of course they still had a lot of the same attributes, and still wouldn’t say he ‘loved’ being around people, but he grew past this sad untrusting version of himself who hid away in the forest and carried an immense amount of guilt. He now felt like he was finally becoming the Kokhurian man that he could be proud of.

“... You realize I literally can’t leave, right?” She lies again for some reason. “By decree of Count Lucio, all his winning gladiators must have their wounds mended and cared for after their matches. Meaning, I can’t leave you bleeding all over your filthy cell and get blood poisoning all over again even if I fucking wanting to! Not until I heal those gouges in your arm and leg that is.”

The long haired gladiator stares towards the wall again, blinking hard and pondering for a moment, still not wanting anything to do with this.

Impatiently, she folds her arms tightly and starts tapping her foot. “So…. Ya gonna let me get this shit over with?... Or am I gonna have to restrain you?” She says her hand summoning her magic, red, blue and yellow colors swirling around her hand menacingly.

Well… that looks familiar. The bear can’t help but think to himself. Now that he thought about it, she really could resemble Martin at times, especially back then with her uptight snotty, know-it-all attitude. He always thought she was such a damn arrogant brat back then. It’s funny though, even though he had chains around his neck, there was plenty of slack to reach her. He could have easily overpowered her just with his brute strength and could have physically thrown her out of his cell. And he knew what she said about Lucio’s decree was total bullshit, and yet he remembered how unwilling he was to fight anymore that day. Lucio had a few special guests that particular week, so he saved a lot of prisoners for him to fight all at once so he could impress his company. It was rather brutal though, the prisoners even turned on each other and it became a total blood bath.

Finally the gladiator begrudgingly but silently agrees, as he lets out a sad tired exhale. He moves his long hair out of the way, turning his body more towards the wall to signal his defeat so she could get to work.

“Hmmm…. That’a boy.” She says with a tiny smuggish smirk as she drops her hand dispersing her magic.

“Uhhh…. Shall I keep watch, little Miss?” The guard asks with a crackling hesitant voice, hiding behind the other side of the bars still.

A small grimace crept back to her face being called ‘little Miss’ a second time, especially by a wimpy creep like him who did nothing but stare at her rear and boobs. But as she turns to face him, stifling the urge to smack him, she smiles cutely and replies sweetly. “Oh, no, no~ You can leave us, I can take care of myself.”

The guard looked her up and down unconvinced, looking a bit too long at her tits, “Ya’… sure?? He could try something funny…” He pretends to act brave, puffing his chest plate out to look good, but they all knew Muriel could squish him like a bug.

Annoyed by this sad excuse for a guard, she continues to smile fakely as she grabs the cell door, “Oh yes~”, SLAAAM!!— She says, shutting herself in and giving him a fake flirtatious look as the bars still jostled around and rang. “Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless outside of the ring. Besides, I hate audiences anyways~” She continues, leaning her weight into the bars again, shooing him with her hand as she bats her long eyelashes. “You understand, right?”

Finally the guard nods rather disappointedly and locks the door from the outside and walks away. “...Finally.” She mutters under her breath, and a hard sneer replaces her fake smile as she turns back to the wounded patient searching for some bandages again. Just utterly annoyed at this whole situation, even though she could have gotten out of it rather easily. However it was strange that she felt more comfortable being alone with a killer in chains than that guard. “... Got tired of that creep looking at my ass… He’s like… thirty!”

As she gathers her supplies out of her bag she continuously gripes and groans. “Uggggggh. Why the hell did I get roped into this shit??? ‘…Oh, Rhemmmmi, my petit oiseauuu~ Pleaaaase, could I ask you to do me this small favor? It shouldn’t take much of your timeeee~! And it would do you some good to give back to the communityyyyyy!’… PPFFFTT!! Community my ass…” She continues to mutter to herself impersonating Athena’s accent and raspy deep voice as she preps to heal these flesh wounds.

The old Muriel glances back behind his shoulder, confused to whom she was talking to, and accidentally letting their eyes meet once again. “…What are you lookin’ at??” She hisses, sneering under his green gaze. Quickly he looks off anywhere else and he can’t help but instinctively rolls his eyes feeling utterly annoyed as he turns his chin away from her again. Standing over him, she tugs his large arm towards cuing him to finally let go of it, and she stops the bleeding from the main injury. Once that was under control, she then starts to stitch back some of the small wounds first with her magic to get them out of the way. “Wow… you sure have grown…” She mutters under her breath again, marveled at his immense size, but she doesn’t make it sound like a compliment, making him all the more self conscious.

Watching this from the outside, the fox and the bear can’t help but feel a bit awkward. This memory didn’t seem to be important, should they even be there to begin with? But neither of them seemed to be capable of walking away. And behind that child version of Rhemi ran in here. Maybe there was something they needed to know? What was young Rhemi doing anyways? Are these memories even important? Or is she really just messing with them as she just aimlessly runs around in this endless manor of memories?

As the memory continues, there was obvious palpable tension in the air as Muriel and Rhemi sat there for quite a few moments mending his wounds. The worst injury was by his left deltoid and ran along the back of his tricep muscle; it didn’t cut any arteries or tendons, but it was still pretty deep and was oozing and bleeding a lot, it could easily get infected if not treated properly.

“So…” She finally says breaking the silence and he sinks further into his stool. “... You’re the infamous ‘Scourge of the South’ that eeeeevveryone talks about, huh, Blanket-boy?” Annoyed, the tall gladiator just sits there trying to be still. Muriel could remember that she just wanted her to hurry up and leave already so he could be alone after those day’s events. “…Pfft. I was thinking you’d actually be a vicious monster…ya know? Ten feet tall, merciless, eats babies in one gulp… That's what everyone says about you anyways… But you already knew that, huh?.... Well isn’t this a freakin’ disappointment…..” Still, utter silence. Feeling still stupidly brave, she just decides to keep poking at this poor beast just to see what would happen. “...Still not a talker I see…. Guess some things don’t change… do they??...”

Unhappy to still not get a rise out of him, her bottom lip sticks out a bit as she stares at him hard from behind and wraps the linen tourniquet around his upper arm. Then an idea creeps into her head. “...Sooooo….. Does Asra even know that you’re killing people for a living now?” The gladiator suddenly stiffens at his name, a low grumble escapes from his diaphragm and he slightly turns his chin towards her. A smile creeps into her lips, feeling the pot finally stirring. “Hmmmm! Who knew the boy who hid behind his blanket was such a cold blooded bastar—”

“—Do you ever stop talking?!” He finally growls under his breath, still looking anywhere but her.

An even bigger smile forms on her lips as he finally takes the bait. “Ooh-hooo~! So it speaks!... What—did I happen to hit a nerve there?”

Muriel turns back away from her towards the wall making her brow furrow. Disliking him trying to ignore her again, she pulls his bandage too tightly and he winces as pain shoots down his elbow and his wrist. “Oooooops~” She says with a false look of empathy, and bats her eyelashes again. “Do hope you’ll forgive me, blanket-boy~” a small bitchy grin creeps back into the corners of her lips.

“.... You’re nothing like the other woman.” He grumbles, sinking into himself as he places his hand on the tourniquet that she cruelly tightened.

“Ohhhh noooo~ What an insult. I’m sooo devastated!” She mocks as she stands to her feet walking within his view as she playfully cups her face as he glares past her shoulder with the gross look of disdain. “Whatever…”

Silence chokes the space once again, as she grabs some more cloth for his wounds on his leg and decides to keep pushing. “So… when did you start this career, eh?” She sits back to her knees in front of him to his leg and he tries to look away from her even more. “–Ohhh! Better yet—–How do you exactly apply for something like this?....” His shoulders begin to slowly increase higher and higher the more she pries. “... Does your resume include something like, ‘various experiences in viciously beheading and/or maiming?’... Or are you so illiterate you brought the Count a dozen heads to his table and got the point across–?”

“–ENOUGH!!!” His booming voice erupts. —THUDD!!

Finally having his patients tested far past its limits, the gladiator slams his fist hard into the solid stone wall, leaving a notable dent in the brick. The rumble echoes through the small enclosed space, making the empty cells’ bars rattle and clank all the way down the hallway. Taken off guard by his sudden burst of anger, Rhemi retracts her arms close to her body, actually feeling the twinge of fear at the sudden outburst. This is exactly what she wanted, but somehow she was still shocked once she got it.

“... Obviously… don’t wanna talk to you… nor do I owe you any explanations–”

She sits there on her knees and thinks about his words for a moment, and before she could stop herself, she blurts out, “... But you do owe Asra one.” His name stiffens the tall man yet again as he hears it leave her lips. Shocked at her own honestly, she stands to her feet as she looks down at him. “... He’s my best friend and I care about him… He talks about you all the time! Says he misses you and wishes he knew where you were! But little does he know that you’ve here doing the Count’s bidding!...” Shame is thrusted into Muriel’s shoulders like a ton of boulders and he sinks into his stool and looks to the ground. “...Athena told me you didn’t want Asra to know about this!.... Why? Are you too afraid he's gonna abandon you once he knows what you are? YOU CAN’T HIDE THIS!! And—I won’t let the likes of you hurt him!”

The fox’s whimpers sadly pinning his ears back as he sinks into himself even deeper as he watches his two best friends fight like this. He even didn’t realize that they knew each other back then. He never saw them act so cold and angry to one another, especially when his name tossed into the mix. Not only that, but only years later did he know that Lucio had lied to Muriel and him. For so many years, the blonde bastard lied just to get what he wanted from them.

“... Don’t think I care?” The Scourge finally whips his head around towards her with an angry expression somehow feeling uncharacteristically defensive.

She scoffs with a half grin, “Are you fuckin’ joking?..... Just look at you!! Look at where you landed yourself, Blanket-boy! Look at what you're capable of!!” She half shouts pointing to the oversized blood soaked ax that hung on the wall outside his cell. The blade is still damp with blood. “You're still a monster like everyone says, you’re just a pathetic one.”

The sad gladiator sinks back into himself looking rather shameful facing the wall again and lowers his voice to almost a whisper, “...... I—I’d never hurt him.”

“Not on purpose, maybe... But I know what kind of person you are. The quiet one that always faded into the background. Wanted to disappear. How fucking creepy is that? Quietly wanting people to forget you even exist?…. And for what?? Waiting for a reason to snap?! So what if you snapped around Asra then, huh?? What would happen then??”

“....You don’t know me at all…” He says firmly with his gravely deep voice, shocking himself for even engaging with her. Normally he wasn’t one for words, yet she really could get a stir out of him.

“I know you well enough.” She raises an eyebrow pondering for a moment, then with a pointed look, she starts to grin knowing this was going to be her finishing move. “.... I know you’re too much a fuckin’ pussy to tell Asra that you’re in love with him.”

His eyes widen wildly as he snaps his head around to look at her, rattling his chains loudly. Shocked to hear those words spoken out loud.

The two dreamlike creatures jolted out of their sadness, absolutely shocked at Rhemi’s words. Muriel had completely forgotten about this part, he must have sealed it far away quite a few years ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the fox’s purple eyes gawk toward him with his little mouth gaped open. All he could do was just look away, feeling a deep sense of dread sinking into his large chest. He never wanted Asra to know those feelings, and how was he supposed to explain himself after all this time? Those feelings were now old ones, ancient even, but at that moment, they were fresh and raw like the wounds on his body. Even now as he heard them again, they stung with harsh potency.

Rhemi raises an eyebrow looking rather triumphant with his reaction as he glares towards her with his mouth gaped open in shock.

“What?? You thought it wasn’t obvious?? You’re just as big of a puss-filled idiot when you were in that cave!! Holy shit!” She snorts as she gathers her things and turns to the cell door. She didn’t finish her job yet, he still had an open wound above his knee, but she didn’t care. It’s not like if she left it, he’d bleed out. It could probably heal on its own, he'd just have a bigger scar. What's one more at this point?

“….You're one to talk…” he finally retaliates, anger starting billowing up from his chest as he flares his nostrils. Rhemi stops dead in her tracks, turning back around and eyes fixed on the back of his head, totally taken off guard that he finally was coming back at her. “.... I could see right through you back then… you're not the only one —I know exactly what kind of person you are.”

She sassily tilts her head and places her free on her hip. “Pfft! Oh really??”

“You… you’re no better–” he says with a long pause as he gathers everything he pinned up to give this bitch what she deserved to hear. “…You just are a liar…. A fake!... The kind of person who pretends to be confident and bold… Pretend to be a good person—but really your generosity is limited to how it benefits you!... Deep down, you're just a fucking coward and a bully!! Afraid of being the lowest one in the hierarchy.”

Bewildered by this sudden accusation, Rhemi parts her lips about to spit more venomous words into his direction, but then the gladiator stands to his feet and gleams down at her from his nearly seven foot gaze. Realizing that she’d never seen him stand up before, she witnesses his terribly immense height, deadly chiseled muscles as he leans over her intimidatingly. All the words behind her teeth instantly retreat back into her throat and she shifts her feet into a strong wide stance, summoning her magic secretly to her hands just in case she needed to defend herself.

“...You dare call me a monster, but you should take a good look in a mirror! I’m forced to hurt people!!! I can at least admit that I hate myself, but you?!! You’re too afraid to even think about it!! SO YOU MAKE EVERYONE AROUND YOU SUFFER INSTEAD!!” It was evident that his words cut deep into her core as she gritted her teeth and puffed out her chest and she started to breathe shallowly. With a guttural scoff, he walks back over to his corner where his stool sat, shaking his head in disbelief. “....Don’t see what Asra sees in you. You think I’d hurt him?! NO!! Never!! But, YOU?!.... All you've ever done is cause him pain since you met him!”

Confused, she shakes her head mustering up the courage to finally reply. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, Blanket-boy?? I’d never–”

“—I never told him how I felt because he’s in love with YOU!!!” He says as he walks back over to her pointing his large finger towards her chest. But as soon as those words fly from his lips, he regrets even opening his mouth and retreats back into himself and a deep shade of red paints across his ears, face, and chest.

Rhemi takes a step back as her eyes open wide and the magic completely dissipates out of her hand. All of her venom and anger all but vanishes and is hastily replaced by confusion and dread. “....He…. He what—?” She mutters as her eyes flutter, not fully comprehending. “No…. He… he can’t….”

Suddenly a door flies open down the hallway that leads out to the center stadium, the pair’s attention being ripped away from their conversation towards the voices echoing down the corridor. As she listens carefully to these voices as they grow louder and louder, she shifts her head to peer outside to see who was coming. But her eyes widened as if she’d seen a phantom and fear completely consumed her. Quickly, she backs away from the cell bars, realizing it was too late to call the guard over so she could make her escape and she panics. She darts back and forth trying around the cell to find a place to run, she turns back to the executioner with desperation as she whispers demandingly, “Hide me….”

“Wha–?” He growls flinching back as she gets closer, returning to his quiet reclusive self. “... No...Get away–.”

“Hide me, Please!!!” She begs looking back towards the voices drawing ever closer.

“... Why?” He grumbles leaning down at her a bit, looking rather intimidating from his height and gritting his teeth.

But instead of scaring her, anger flashes in her red irises and her teeth clenched together. She suddenly snatches the chains connected around his neck and yanks it as hard as she can, pulling his eyes to her level and she glares into his bright green gaze. “—JUST HIDE ME, YOU STUPID TALL FUCK!” She quietly squawks with her teeth gritting.

The hermit grabs her wrist to pull her hand away, parting his lips ready to tell her to go to fucking hell, but as soon as he inhales, he realizes her hand was trembling making the chains rattle and clank as tears ream her eyes. “P-Please!!!... Please for the love of the gods, hide me!….I promise… I’ll do anything!! W-whatever you want! Just–H-….He can’t find me! Please!!! Don’t let him see me!” Seeing her as she tries to hold back her tears from rolling down her face, his gaze softens slightly. She looked so utterly mortified.

Muriel can’t help but remember how he felt back then… At that moment, he almost hated her… but he also didn’t like to see her beg like this. He knew how it felt to be afraid. Seeing her desperate pleas made him wonder how many people begged for their lives every time he went to the arena and he could do nothing but swing his ax down on them. But here, at this moment, maybe he could actually do something to help, even if it was her.

Keeping her eyes peeled towards the shadows of the approaching strangers, Rhemi whimpering becomes even quieter as she shivers head to toe ferociously. “—I—I can’t let him find me…. Please!!!” The old Muriel lets out a hard and heavy huff, and she begs one last time. “..PleaSS—MMMM–!!”

Hastily as soon as the voices were around the corner, seconds within view, the gladiator covers his healer’s mouth with his large hand and shoves her behind him in the corner completely out of sight behind some hay. Dazed from his swift movements, she finds herself shocked how gently he handled her. Despite his size and swiftness, he was feather light to her skin. And to think, just a few moments ago, she was so completely relentless and cruel to him. Hearing the voices finally approach the front of the cell and their footsteps stop, she can feel heartbeat pound loudly and she instinctively clutches to the back of his large belt around his waist and attempts to be as still as she possibly can. As she stood there behind the giant gladiator, she could see out between his arm and torso, observing the party approaching without detection. Then her eyes scan upwards, she observes his various scars over his bulging muscles that hid under that tuft of long black hair, still taken by surprise that he even bothered to help her. Somehow she felt safe behind him, behind a man that everyone deemed to just be a deadly killer.

Obscuring her from anyone’s view just as Lucio comes around the corner with an entourage, the Scourge stiffens as he feels her small shaky hands hold onto him and he just whispers almost comfortingly, “... Hold still.”

The Count trots over rather proudly and enthusiastically to The Scourge’s cell, seemingly showing the place off like a child showing off his new toys on the playground. As they all converse, it was evident that his guests were of a much higher rank than him from how he addresses them; Also evident from his apparent ass kissing. “And…Here is where we hold our favorite champion! This cell was specially made to house ‘em! I present to you, my best gladiator yet! The Scourge of the South!!!” Lucio so giddlily announces hoping that his victor would at least do something of amusement. But he just stood there in the corner, wishing nothing but death upon all these noblemen. Lucio coughs a bit awkwardly, turning his attention back to the foreign king. “…. This is the one you so enjoyed watching, Sire.” He says with a half bow pointing with his metallic arm towards Muriel. A few heavily armed foreign guards in fancy golden armor accompany his guests, crowding the small hallway.

“Hmmm.” Says the man. He stood just under six feet, was swimming in heavy velvets, a silk cape, adorned with very fancy lace, and was dripping head to toe with various jewels. He was an older man that had grayish-blue hair to his shoulders in an overly ‘fashionable’ style that came to his ears into curls. He stood there staring inside as if he was watching an animal at the zoo as he covered his fat nose with one hand and held a half bitten apple in the other. He even had white powder face make-up with an ugly fake mole glued onto his left upper lip just above his pencil thin handlebar mustache. “…C'est encore plus laid de près, n'est-ce pas?” He says looking at a person just out of view still holding his nose in disgust making his voice sound nasally. “... Et plus grand aussi.. No?…”

“Indeed, my King.” A man says, as he casually comes into view, every other step you could hear a wooden cane striking against the brick ground.

The bear suddenly feels a cold shiver down his long spine recognizing that voice as he watches this replay in front of him now with such clarity. Back then, he assumed that Rhemi was afraid of Lucio, that was the only reason why she was shivering and clinging onto his belt like she did, but now… it makes more sense.

Sir Martin stands next to his Lord, pulling him out a handkerchief from his breast pocket to press against his mouth and nose, eyes locked on the gladiator. “… What a filthy goddamn animal.” He mutters as he sneers at the mountain man behind the bars, not flinching at the smells. Already having enough, he waves his gloved hand at Lucio, gesturing to keep them moving. “Shall we press on, Sire? We wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite with the smell of piss, shit, and blood, now would we?”

“Mmmmartinnnn~ Where’s your sense of fun? I came here because I wanted to see The Scourge of the South and by the gods, I am going to see this ugly motherfucker up close! Haaa!” Said the king with a nasty chuckle as he threw the half bitten apple straight at the poor Scourge’s face. With a wet sounding THUD, the apple bounces off of his left cheekbone, not even bothering to bat it away, but he scrunches his face irritably. He pulls his right arm firmly on Rhemi’s shoulder, tugging her closer to ensure she wasn’t to be seen at all. The king’s once amused face melts into a frown as disappointment seeps in. “Hmmm… I was hoping he’d act like a monster down here as well…” Frustrated, he snaps his head back around to his host. “Luci!! Why does he not stir?.. Is he an imbécile?”

“Perhaps he is..” Martin adds as he stares at the poor thing with his icy blue stare.

Lucio glares at Muriel again, hoping he at least put on a bit of a better show as a bead of sweat drips from his forehead. But all he does is look away, not showing any interest in fighting anything else today. “Oh well…ummm— He-he-he must just be tired, your highness! He did go against over eight fighters today. And that took over an hour! He doesn’t look at it, but giants do get tired too after all… RIGHT??–”

Muriel finally gives him a glare and mutters, “Yeah… I’m tired.”

“Ugh!! What a bore… But, no matter… I have lost interest. Come, come, now Luci! You promised us a good time!” The king says with an almost bratty demeanor as if he was a toddler who didn’t get what he wanted.

“Yes, yes… Don’t you have anything else of interest to show His Majesty, Count?” Martin says to Lucio with an eyebrow raised annoyed. “… Or was this all that you had planned?”

“–Why, yes!!” The count’s voice cracks nervously. “Yes! Of course I have more!!” Lucio then hastily moves on deeper into the cells and keeps yapping all the way down the hallway talking something about his various animals that he housed in the neighboring cells.

As the guards stick very close to the king, Martin hangs behind him for a moment staring at the dingy cells hatefully. As he picks up his cane to follow His Majesty and his host, but he then stops on his tracks as his eyes flutter wide open and he whips his head back towards the gladiator's cell. He stands there for a moment staring into it, peering around wildly as if he sensed something he hadn't in a long time. He leans into the cell bars looking straight at the long haired Muriel. “You…Scourge.” The tall man’s chains rattle a bit as his head moves and he green eyes look back from behind his disheveled unkempt long black hair. “… Anyone else in there with you?”

Muriel averts his eyes towards the floor without a word and with a single shake of his head, ‘no’.

“– Yoohoo~ Martin, my boy!!” The king shouts casually to his Chamberlin excitement returning to his voice. “… Come along! Luci here is going to show us some cheetahs and wolves!!”

“And lions!” Luico adds faintly followed by a small cough. “Umm.. my Lord.”

“Oooo~!! ANND Lions! Hee-hee-heee!!”

Martin’s eyes glance back over towards his party with an angry sneer then back at the tall gladiator and he glares back with his green eyes and a deep loathing seems to burst within him. At last, Martin released the bars and silently made his way down the hallway seemingly looking into every empty cell around as he left.

“Come along, you bloody ninny! You’re taking too damn long!!” The king whines.

“Apologies, Sire…”

Once all their voices dissipate, and the door to the cells shut once again, the long haired Muriel exhales hard, relaxing his entire body.

Forgetting herself, Rhemi places her forehead on his low back as she feels herself getting woozy as she comes down from the surge of adrenaline.

With her warm skull pressing against his spin unexpectedly, the gladiator very quickly releases her with a jolt and he blushes uncontrollably. He had forgotten how close she was to him. He sighs hard through his nostrils as he turns around, wanting to just be alone again. “…I…. I hid you…. N-Now get ou—” He stops mid word as watches her slump to the floor silently crying, her face in her hands and her knees to her chest like a little child, shivering uncontrollably.

As the bear watches, he finds himself yet again wanting nothing more than to scoop her up into his arms to comfort her. Rhemi was terrified and sad, it is so difficult to just sit there and witness this with what he knows now. He takes a paw and reaches out for her, but feels the magnetic force field yet again.

The gladiator lets out another long sigh, grabs the basket full of food she had brought and he pretends to not notice her starting to hyperventilate. So he kneels, quietly eating, attempting to give the girl some dignity as she cries uncontrollably in the corner. After a while, the gladiator blindly hands Rhemi the linen napkin that rested at the bottom of the basket so she could wipe her wet face. “… Lucio’s gone now… Don’t need to be afraid–”

“–H- He’s.. no- not who I-I-...I’m—” She half shouts defensively as she picks up her head, but she suddenly stops herself. Seemling frustrated, she snatched the napkin from his hand and wiped away her tears. “Do—...Don’t you d-d-d-dare tell anyone a-ab-ab-about this…. P- pl-please.”

Silently, he nods his head in agreement as he turns back away from her. “... Now go—”

“Yeah… I know… but—Just…. Give me a minute, okay?” She says trying to still trying to soothe herself. “... I c-ca-can’t leave here like this. T-They’ll t-t-think you did something…”

“Fine…..” The man huffs, sheepishly adjusting his hips as he sits his ass on the ground. He wasn’t sure if she was lying just then or if she even cared about how the guards would think he'd done anything, but really it didn’t matter. She really wasn’t in any shape to leave anyways.

After a few minutes, she seemingly catches her breath and calms herself down enough to speak. She wipes her face and blows her nose with the napkin, as she finally stands to her feet, looking like she was feeling rather foolish. “T-.... thanks….” She mumbles, her eyes and face still red.

Muriel just sits there silently, trying to act annoyed so she’d get the hint to leave. But her gaze seems to change as she watches him from behind sharing a piece of bread with a few mice.

“M-Maybe…. Y-…. You’re not as bad as I t-…t-thought.” She finally admits though her still shaky voice as she looks rather remorseful.

Muriel doesn't remember this part so much, he thought she left immediately after Lucio came, but this seemed to be the clearest part of the memory.

He grumbles with a sad shrug. “…. No… just as bad as you say… I kill to stay alive… That’s the worst kinda bad…”

Really regretting what she had said, she knelt down picking up the half bitten apple that the king threw at him. It was a perfectly good large expensive pink apple, looked to be imported, and he just threw it away. She strips away the piece that had the teeth marks with her magic and tosses it, and even divides the apple into slices. Walking back over to him meekly she handed him the now perfectly good apple, kind of like a peace offering. “W-Whatever… I was just s-s-saying that s-sinced you helped me.” She says with a small grin and blushing, but only now did Muri see this.

The gladiator blinks a few times before accepting the apple, hoping that will be the end of it, but she unfortunately stays crouched down next to him digging a few rune symbols in the dirt. “I… I d-didn’t know that Asra felt that way about m-me.” Annoyed that she was still here, he doesn’t comment, he just sighs scooting away from her making his chains rattle and she frowns about feeling rejected and she furrows her brow again with a pout. “… Y-you’re still an idiot for n-not letting him know you love him.” She adds trying to lean into his gaze.

However, he does his best not to look at her as he turns away as his face turns pink yet again. “.... He… he knows I am not really good…. with….that sort of thing.” A rouge tear drips down and he catches it before she could see, and he abruptly stands to his feet clearing his throat and points to the cell door. “.... You can leave now.” He had no idea what made him say those things out loud, but they just poured out. And he was ready to be done with it all. This girl always made him feel so many different things, and he hated it all.

Rhemi can’t help but let out a chuckle with her eyes still a bit watery. “... As always, you’re a fantastic c-conversationalist.” She mutters sarcastically before calling over the guard to let her out. As she waits for the guard, she rests her head on the bars and she glances at Muriel one last time. “…. It’s not too late ya’ know. He should know the truth.”

“.... Doesn’t matter anymore… Probably gonna die here.” His eyes darken as he slumps back to the stool. He really did mean that, and she could feel it.

Rhemi frowns a bit again. Maybe there was more to this gladiator than just being the Scourge of the South, and maybe him being here wasn’t even his choice. “... Maybe not to you… But I’m sure he’d wanna know.” Silence still falls on the black haired gladiator, only the rattling of the chains can be heard as he shrinks into himself. Finally as the guard returns with keys in hand, he unlocks the door and it swings open making it squeak. She steps out and the guard shuts the door quickly, still afraid of the man behind the bars. She shoos the guard off again and stands there hesitantly for a moment with her back against the cell before turning her head slightly. “.... Take care, Blanket-boy… And.. maybe… don’t die here, okay?”

Muriel just can’t believe he didn’t remember this last part. Perhaps then he was too tired, or perhaps he partly dissociated at the time. He did remember how cold and completely visceral she was at the start, but now he sees that she was just being protective to her friend. Really, she only met well. How was she supposed to know what was really happening? Muriel and Asra sure didn’t, so why would she?

As the memory seems to end, the old Muriel disappears and the fox and bear waited for the lights to go out just like the other memories, but nothing was happening. Eventually they heard a strange humming sound, and then they realized that Rhemi was still there, standing there motionless behind the other side of the bars.

Suddenly her neck cracks loudly, contorting back around as she gazes straight at the two outsiders and she furrows her brow. The fox and the bear growl and yelp, stunned as she looks straight at them, the whites of her eyes were now completely bloodshot red, and the vessels in her face were broken and her skin was a sickly yellow. “Long time so see…” She mutters as ash expels from her lungs. A large smoldering bird morphs from her ashes and spills out of the memory and she flaps her wings hard, making the fox and bear tumble out of the room.

Trying their best not to cough from her pungent smell of death, fox and bear are ejected out of the hallway. The dead Rhemieliia shifts back into her human(ish) form as the door shuts closed behind her. For a moment she stands there looking rather annoyed at the door, trying as she might, the door wouldn’t lock back and she sighs defeatedly. “Damn kid…” She mutters irritably as she then turns her attention back to the two guests. “Took ya’ long enough, Bear-boy!…” The bear growls and grunts a bit annoyed with her all over again. She sent them into this crazy world, and didn’t meet them at the door. What did she expect? The bear just shakes his head and snorts, frustrated with the lack of communication, and she just tilts her head and thinks a bit. “Hmmm…” She mumbles. “Yeah, these forms aren't gonna work for me…” She says as she places her pointer finger into the crown on his forehead and she summons a bit of sooty magic. Suddenly, Muriel shifts back into his human form, wearing the same clothes he was even wearing that day. Satisfied, she smiles finally looking relieved. “That's better, huh, Blanket-boy?”

Muriel looks at his changed form completely flabbergasted, only his father was able to make him shift forms before. “How? I didn’t think that I could–”

The past Rhemi opens her arms and gestures all around the manor. “This is Rhemi’s deep self consciousness, and this has been my realm for almost four years. So… I can change things if I want.” Her eyes then look to the unlocked doors, the dilapidated hallway and to her own form she shrugs with a small pout and scratches her face. “Well… Some things…”

The hermit then glances all around looking at the endless doors, it all starts to make sense now. Of course this was her self-consciousness, it didn’t feel like a dream realm and it didn’t feel like the real world either, because it was neither. This was her mind… That would explain the organization then.

Muriel looks back at the woman’s sickly face and a torn expression washes over him. He wasn’t sure how to feel at this moment, on one hand, he wanted to take her into his arms and hug her tightly, but on the other hand, this Rhemi wasn’t his. He just glances to the ground sheepishly and rubs his opposite arm with his hand. “Sorry we’re late…” He finally mutters still wanting to hold her.

She rolls her eyes but keeps a smile, she knew how he must have felt confused about everything including her. But she was obviously relieved he was here, and she pats his arm kindly, silently thanking him. As she finally turns her attention to the fox her smile fades and she gawks at the purple eyed creature looking somewhat terrified. She leans into Muriel and whispers, “Why… Why is he here?”

The Mountain Man quickly glances at this confused fox friend, then he realizes this was the version of Rhemi before coming back to life. Last time this version of Rhemi got into a huge fight with Asra, and they never got the chance to resolve it in person after he left Vesuvia during the plague. So no wonder this was difficult for the two of them. “He… He wanted to help… He insisted.”

The fox stares at her with such sadness in his eyes, he never saw her like this before. She had to suffer alone, and she looked like she was so tired. The past Rhemi inhales a deep breath and her left hand starts to crumble, she quickly catches the falling ash and hastily repairs herself looking rather embarrassed. The fox just whines a bit more and sinks into himself watching her falling apart like this. All he wanted for so long was to see this version of her, and now that he does, he feels this enormous sense of guilt. It was clear that she should have moved on a long time ago.

Finally, the dying Rhemi trundles over to the fox and she kneels down in front of him with a wary smile. She places her hand on his little jawline and he leans into her touch. Hesitantly, she places her opposite fingers on his forehead to make him shift into human form.

As Asra turns back to his human self, he stays sitting on his knees as he stares at the ghost of his childhood love. “Rem?” He murmurs horsley, still having her right hand on his face and he holds her wrist sweetly.

She still smiles through her sad painful expression looking slightly nervous as she replies, “Hi-ya, Asra...” She whispers, not sure what else to say.

With tears streaming down his face, he quickly throws his arms around her shoulders hugging her tightly. She stiffens for a moment, afraid of her pungent smell or her ash leaving him a mess, but he doesn’t seem to even care and he chokes in his words. “I’m so sorry, Rem. I never should have left you.”

She relaxes her shoulders, then returns his embrace, holding him tightly back. “Sorry I made you both come here…”

Asra pulls away and looks straight into her eyes, shaking his head and wiping the tears away with his forearm. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

She smiles bittersweetly as a tear falls from her eyes and it sizzles as it touches her crumbling cheek. But then with determination washes over her sad expression, she stands to her feet and pulls Asra up as well. “Wel… Come along you two… your Rhemi needs your help.” She says letting go of her friend and she stands to her feet and walks down towards the hallway, deeper into the manor.

Muriel and Asra start to follow behind her, passing many doors awkwardly feeling like there was something that needed to be said. Now that the two friends are back in their normal forms and able to talk, the magician has so much on his mind, but as he glances up to his friend, the hermit keeps his eyes away from him.

“Muriel, I…I—” he starts but he starts walking a bit faster in a huff. Asra’s brow lowers knowing that he was being avoidant, and just sprints up to him so he could catch up with him. “Can… Can we talk about what happened in there??”

“… No.” Muriel sharply replies with a hard grumble, eyes still focused on the past Rhemi’s head.

“Wha–.... Why not?”

“… Is that even important anymore?”

“It is to me!!” Asra shouts somberly yet persistent, his hands pointing onto his chest as it still seemed to ache.

Muriel finally stops in his tracks, his shoulders drop and he cocks his head back, already tired from this conversation, but he knew there wasn’t any way to avoid it.

Asra stops alongside him and he sheepishly rubs his upper arm with his opposite hand. “Muri—I… I didn’t… I never… I.. I don’t even know where to start….” He then runs his fingers through his white messy hair. “But… it was so obvious—”

“–Asra… Look…” Muriel says with a grunt pinching the bridge of his nose. “… I haven't …. felt that way in a long time… Besides, I’ve changed….We’ve all changed… a lot–”

“I know… I know that, but–” Asra smiles, hiding the pain behind his eyes. He struggles as he continues his confession having frequent pauses mid sentence. “Regardless. Looking back… I think I already knew that… You felt that way… yet I chose to say nothing. I… I even may have used it to my advantage to bring Rhemi back to life–”

“I know you did…” Muri blurts out before he can stop himself. Asra just stands there very still like a board. His tall friend’s cheeks stain red, not out of embarrassment, but deep seeded anger and hurt. “...I-I’m... Not stupid.”

Horrified at his own actions, Asra’s face twists in a sad expression. “When did you–?”

“ …As soon as I saw her being resurrected…” He admits sadly. “.. And after I made my deal…”

“And you still..?” Muriel’s emerald eyes pierce down the white haired magician with a long suffering look. Asra, glances down to the ripped up carpet below his feet and shakes his head regretfully. “I-… I’m sorry, Muri. I know how it feels when your feelings aren’t reciprocated. And you did so much—“

“Asra—“ he interrupts, letting out another frustrated sigh. “I-… I will always deeply care for you… And I got over it. But that wasn’t the only thing… You also weren’t…” He pauses for a moment trying to collect the right words and his face softens. “... You weren’t there for me. Took me a long time before I realized it… I was always there for you, but you… you didn’t always do the same…And that… wasn’t fair…”

The magician shrivels into himself, his chest feeling so heavy, but he knows that it’s all true. He wasn’t always the best version of himself, especially after Rhemi died. After her death, he became obsessed with bringing her back to life, but once he succeeded, she just wasn’t the same. He didn't think that was even going to be a possibility. Then all he did was spend his time trying to find ways to revert her back to her old self. But slowly he came to the hard concussion that the old Rhemi he knew and loved just wasn’t coming back. For three years, he didn’t appreciate the people who bloomed in front of him. Rhemi was different, but she was just as special, just much softer than her previous self. Muriel was also becoming more reclusive, and if he was just there for him, perhaps things would have been different. Nadia was asleep for nearly three years and didn’t remember anything because of him. He regrets all the time wasted, and he really should have been all alone after all he’d done. If Julian wasn’t so persistent, he could have lost him too, then he really would have been alone. Really, back then, he was a bad friend, and they all suffered for it.

Muriel takes in a large breath as he tries to continue seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. “... Maybe in another lifetime we could have worked… but–” He shakes his head, not finishing that thought. “But... I deserved more than that. And Rhemi… Rem was there for me, and saw me–She made me feel like… Like I was important... She made me feel like I could have a better life.” He looks towards the ghostly version of his lover and shakes his head. “... You kept chasing after the person who wasn’t here anymore … and I… I fell in love with the person who was already there...”

Asra nods slowly and he chokes up a bit again. “You're right…” He says as he grabs his friend’s wrist apologetically and places his hand on top of his. “I’m sorry, Muri…. I’m sorry that I hurt you. And you are right. You did deserve better… I’m… I am just so sorry I never told you that you did… And… I am so happy that you and Rhemi found each other. I wasn’t lying when I said that you both fit together. I loved her… And I still do… But…I love that you two are happy… I.. I don’t think I could give either of you what you deserved.”

“... I know you never meant to hurt me… But… I still appreciate your apology. I know I don’t always show it… but it does mean a lot.” Muriel fights a smile as he glances over to the old Rhemi as she continues to walk down the hallway, seemingly searching for a particular door. Realizing the task at hand, he takes his Asra’s shoulders firmly as he stares deep into his eyes. “...Asra, I know you wanna talk about this more… and we can.. later… But right now we need to find Rhemi.”

“Right…” Asra says with a small smile as he places his hand over his friends. At that moment he felt so proud of Muriel. He had really grown into his own skin and it took him such a long time to do so. But he was right, they could hammer this all out later. The truth still stings so deeply after watching that memory it was like all of his failures were being thrown back into his face. But right now, it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about him. This was about Rhemi.

“... You two coming or what?” The ghostly Rhemi mumbles with her very sickly raspy voice, as she waits by a door tapping her foot and folding her arms tightly. This door was a mossy green and gray slightly burnt, but one of the most pristine so far.

“Yeah! We’re coming!!” Asra replies, stifling his tears and wiping his face.

As he turns to follow along, Muriel reaches out for his shoulder one again. “Wait…”

Asra turns and out of nowhere, Muriel wraps arms around Asra giving him a quick but warm bear hug. Taken off guard by his affection, he pauses for a moment rather shocked, but then he squeezes back as hard as he could. Muriel still had a hard time saying it, but he was still happy to have him in his life. He still loved him, but just in a different way now. And in that moment, that's all that mattered.

As the pair separate, Muriel straights up his gaze locked to the door as he walks hastily to the ghostly figure. Ready to enter whatever memory he had to go through next.

“...I’m coming, Beautiful.”

✨To Be Continued…

[YEAHHHHH I tried to trim it down I really did. I'm sorry! This bitch is long af... And I even tried to hammer it out as much as I could, but it is what it is. LOL HOWEVER! I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless, and as always,.. ]

Thanks for reading my hot garbage!

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