#whumper!Lyrem

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 12

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

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine] [chapter ten] [chapter eleven]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: memory whump, psychological whump, noncon touching (nonsexual), swearing. torture mention, car accident mention

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN

        Store meeting. 8pm tonight. –

        “And, send.” Lyrem muttered to himself, then sighed. He laid his elbow against the countertop, staring mindlessly at his phone and drank the last sip of his coffee before throwing it into the trash bin beside him. The shapeshifter was in the alley, waiting for their cue. All Lyrem needed now, was Arch. A slight flittering sound alerted him to a new text.

        Omw.

        Perfect. Everything was in motion. Everything was going to work out. Arch needed a little more push. Just a slight nudge to keep them interested in working for him. The farther they went, the harder it would be to return to innocence. He couldn’t allow them the chance to turn away. He needed to awaken their memories naturally. He needed them to be lost in their fury. He needed them to take that extra step- he needed them to kill. And who better to help them to do that than-

        The front door flew open in a rage. Lyrem was faced with a version of himself blazoning with passionate anger. His eyes were red, his face was pink. He looked as though…

        “What happened to you?” He asked himself. The other Lyrem wiped a stray unstoppable tear from his face.

        “Oh, you’ll fucking find out!” He shouted. He travelled through the store and directly entered the employee washroom. He remained in there for several minutes before emerging with his face rinsed but still tender. He announced to his other self, still in a fit. “I’m taking the SUV.”

        The present Lyrem raised a brow, then returned to staring at his texts. It wasn’t often that he dared cross himself within a time-stream.

        “Just don’t crash the damn thing.” He hollered, but his future self was already gone through the back.

        -----

        The Labyrinth.

        Arch had only ever heard of it.

        What they knew was simply that it was a place of emptiness. It was a place where nothing existed. A place where suffering, joy, life and death ceased to be. It was also a place that stole you from the world. A step into the depths of the Labyrinth and you’d be forgotten to all. Forgotten to the whole world- except for the very one who had tossed you in. Even on Earth, the Labyrinth would ensure you’d never exist there either- not even in a memory. It wasn’t like simple Latin blood magic. This was a loss to endure forever.

        Now, they saw it, and it was much less impressive than they expected. Lyrem had propped open the back door as Arch held onto the man’s body- or the person they were to assume was the man. But… Arch knew better than to believe everything they heard. They were reminded of the policeman, Grenn, and what he had said a week ago-

        “How does a guy walk away from a car crash with a Bowie stuck in his leg?”

        At the time, it wasn’t as important to know how the man got away, as much as it was important to find him. Lyrem seemed sure that they had found him, but Arch wasn’t so sure- especially not after they leaned into his right leg. There wasn’t anything remotely close to a reaction from him. The knife was buried at lease two inches into his leg, of that, Arch was certain; and no one could heal from that in a week. The Labyrinth wouldn’t be pleasant, certainly, but at least they weren’t about to kill an innocent man.

        “Well?” Lyrem touted, “What are you waiting for?”

        Arch looked up and down the empty alleyway. Usually, Lyrem’s vehicle would be blocking the view of the street from the alley’s entrance, but it wasn’t around tonight. Maybe it was at a mechanics’; maybe Arch would get lucky.

        “Nothing,” they said, dismally. They propped the man up, who was now completely unconscious from a second well-placed blow to the head, and kicked him forward into the darkness.

        Lyrem closed the door after the shapeshifter.

        “I am proud of you, Arch,” he said, but this time, it sounded skeptical. Like he was testing them. He could see the change in their demeanour and he measured what this new version of Arch might mean for him.

        “That wasn’t the man, was it?” They postulated. Lyrem squirmed under their gaze. He nodded apologetically, and gave a half smile.

        “Too clever for your own good,” he praised warmly. Approaching, he clasped his hands together.  “You caught me. That was not the Man- though you certainly put him in his place, didn’t you? The Labyrinth… I would choose death over the Labyrinth a hundred times over if given a choice. Quite diabolical of you to choose the Labyrinth.”

        Arch stepped backward, nearly tripping over their own feet to do so. Lyrem regarded their movement keenly, and furrowed his brows.

        “What’s wrong, Arch?”

        “Nothing,” they mumbled, looking away, towards the door. “What… was he? Why did he look like the man?”

        “Oh,” Lyrem realized. “He is a shapeshifter. Hard beings to find, I will admit but for this particular job, he did just perfect. Well worth the expense I think.”

        Arch squinted their eyes at Lyrem, who was so comfortable with the idea of tossing people away.

        “So, he was like you?” Arch alleged tentatively. “A… a monster?”

         Lyrem stepped forward at the accusation, towering himself over the kid that he regarded so highly. A sharp betrayal stung him in the chest. He had almost forgotten that his future self had visited him to retrieve the SUV. He may finally know exactly what set him off into such a fury.

        “Say that again.”

        Arch stammered and stumbled over their words, their hands finding their way to their pocket where their phone was missing, but the mace, thankfully, remained. Lyrem stopped them with a finger to their lips, resulting in an upsetting silence from Arch.

        “I am not a monster,” he stated. “What I am is a bestower of great gifts. I gave you dominance and power over those who have oppressed you and you would lower me to the tier of a shapeshifter- a monster?”

        Arch was shaking now, unable to move any further away, and too fearful to object to his statements.

        “You promised me your life, your devotion to this work that I do. Arch, if I am truly a monster in your eyes, then you need not fear me any more than the one that stares back at you from a mirror.”

        Lyrem lowered his fingers, and took a deep breath.

        “I will forgive you, Arch. I will forgive you because I care about you, and because you did something very difficult for me today.” Lyrem raised his arm again, setting a hand on their shoulder. “And I suspect you are still trying to remember everything that you and I have done together. So… I apologize if this experience was… rattling.”

        “My…” Arch mumbled, still stricken with a sense of danger that was overwhelming them, reason and all. “My mom… she warned me…”

        The memories were fading… They were fading quickly. But their mom… their mom?... told them… somebody told them not to trust this man. The man with the gem shop. The man who forced them to work late. The man who taught them what power truly was.

        This was the man they feared. And they feared him more than anything else in the world.

        The lid of the mace hit the alleyway’s pavement, rolling into a gutter of the road. The hiss of the spray and the following spewed insults, were enough of a distraction for Arch to run into the street after they had thrown the emptied canister into the old man’s face. The only thing screaming in their mind was the knowledge that they had to return home and not Lyrem’s well chosen words that echoed down to them as he followed them at a slower pace to the sidewalk.

        “YOU UNGRATEFUL WRETCH!”

        Arch flew down the many streets, pushing past the evening street-walkers if needed. Their legs fought them the whole way; still recovering from the bruises from the crash and their back still feeling the panging effects from the whiplash that caused a near-constant aching. For now, they couldn’t care less. They needed to get home. They needed to be safe. They needed…

        For whatever reason, a visual of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore popped into their head. There was something about it that was wrong. There was something missing. Someone missing. Who was telling them about that ridiculous movie, again?

        Who would be waiting for them at the house? They thought.

        Maleficent. That stupid cat.

        People lived with other people though, didn’t they? Families. They realized. That was what it was called. They had one of those. Human families. Siblings and grandparents and fathers and…

        They reached the end of their block, their own face worn from the fears of that night and exhausted from everything that had been revealed to them. They weren’t a monster… They couldn’t be.

        They were Arch. They were a stupid high school student who had a part-time job. They had friends... they had little hobbies… they failed Spanish class.

        They also tortured Kyle. They flayed his skin so that Lyrem could dry them and use them as paper for certain macabre spell work.

        The more they ran with the knowledge of what they had done and who they had hurt, the harder it was to continue… the easier it was to give up. Their knees buckled, hitting the sidewalk pavement with force. Out of breath, and feeling nauseous, Arch’s forehead met the hot ground next; their arms and hands curled around their head as they threatened to pull their own hair out as a means of distraction from their horrible reality.

        “There you are…”

        Arch gulped, and merely wept, soaking the sidewalk in a small spot where their face was supported only by their forearms. They felt a firm grasp pulling them up by the elbow, and they succumbed to its demands. Their knees were torn into by stray pebbles, tossed on from the boulevards- some were still small enough to remain stuck beneath their there, leaving specks of red across their skin.

        “Wh-where…” Arch started to say- though they didn’t entirely know what they were trying to ask as a fog of grief and anger and fear poured over them. “Where’s… my…”

        It was exhausting, trying to remember exactly what was so wrong- why they couldn’t stand to be around Lyrem right now- and despite their best efforts to pull away, he dutifully remained by their side as they walked the rest of the street together. Slowly they arrived at the front door of the house.  

         Maleficent sat there at the top of the porch, waiting; her blue eyes peering judgmentally at the kid as they found their way up the stairs. A long grey tail swept from side to side lazily, then she proceeded to lick herself.

        Lyrem closed them into the house; the scent of burning paper filling it. He had lit a small fire in the living room and stacked several small Rubbermaid containers beside it- one of which, sitting on the raised slate hearth was half empty.

        The futon was roughly shoved back into the form of a couch. Bags of clothing in multiple colours remained by the door, as well as a stack of math and chemistry texts with haphazardly strewn loose-leaf papers.

        He sat Arch down on the futon as he laid a hand on their back. Gently, he caressed them and pulled a warm fleece throw over their lap. Arch curled into it, and watched the fire burn, engulfing the last memories of the people they thought of as family. Lyrem return to stoking it. He picked through some photos and papers from the open bin, allowing Arch to watch as he tossed them to the flames.

        Arch found themselves drifting into a deep dreamless sleep. With a pillow under their head and the room growing too warm, Lyrem studied them fondly as he continued to shove their past into the flames. Over an hour later, he closed the lid on the one of the last bins. He would return to burning those papers and photos another time. He pushed the little metal bar to close the flue on the fire, and shut the door on it as it groaned like a horn.

        “You rang…?”

        Lyrem turned around, seeing Paimon, he scoffed. Then held a finger to his lips to keep the demon quiet until he shooed him into the kitchen. Lyrem started the kettle on the stove. Paimon looked from the couch and then back to Lyrem warily, and then opened his mouth.

        “Don’t say it,” Lyrem interjected. Paimon looked slightly offended.

        “I was going to say that our lawyer has their papers ready,” Paimon replied with an innocent conjecture. Removing his tall hat, he placed it on the small worn wooden table. Lyrem nodded, and he continued. “But also, that you are getting too close.”

        Lyrem pulled himself away from the cupboard; a tin of hot chocolate powder in his hand, he considered using it as a bludgeoning instrument- but even if he had something more weaponized, Paimon wouldn’t have felt a thing. He was a demon, after all.

         “All Arch has to do is sign and your debts will become their debts. You won’t ever have to worry about what you owe- well until you make another ridiculous deal, that is.”

        “Keeping Maria alive was not a ridiculous deal,” Lyrem said. He pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, filling them with spoonfuls of the powder. Now they only needed to wait for the water to boil.

        “My apologies,” Paimon instilled a silence into the room. Absently he sifted through the mail with Charlotte’s name sprawled over it. Insurance payment reminders, some neighbourhood notices, and list of seemingly random addresses she had penned out over the phone one day, they all sat in a heap. “Their mother, then?”

        Lyrem accepted the shame with dignity and crossed his arms as he leaned into the fridge.

“It had to be done. Arch is too easily influenced by them,” He spoke simply. “Thank you again for providing me with another doorway. It took a lot of energy… I may need to devour a heart or two before I replenish my strength.”

“Have you considered that you might be getting in a little over your head?”

Lyrem shook it. “No. I- I am not in over my head, Paimon. My head is still well above the waterline, thank you very much.”

Paimon smoothed his beard to the end and regarded the man skeptically.

“So, you will still allow Arch to sign?”

Lyrem blinked, his lashes fluttering bit as he thought of his answer. Then he scowled.

“They already said they would sign. I am sure that if Arch cares about me, and cares about the work ahead of them, that they will make the right decision for themselves.”

“And if they make the wrong decision?” Paimon postulated.

Lyrem fell silent just in time for the kettle to scream out with a high whistle. He shut off the stove, and picked it up. Filling the three mugs and giving them a stir, he passed one to Paimon, then moved to the living room.

With a light nudge, Arch awoke to the smell of the warm chocolate sugar and accepted the cup as they sat up. Wrapping their blanket around their shoulders, Lyrem asked.

“Are you feeling better, now?”

Arch nodded, brushing away some dried tears. Past Lyrem’s head of grey, the light was on in the kitchen with the demon in black sitting there still. He caught their gaze and held it carefully. Arch waved.

Paimon nodded back with a slight sideways grin.

“What’s Paimon doing here?” they asked, whispering to Lyrem.

Good. They remembered Paimon.

“He’s just here to catch up, that’s all.” Lyrem left them to their own devices on the couch and returned to the kitchen table as he retrieved his own comforting mug and held onto it with both hands as if the simple act could warm his rapidly cooling heart.

‘Let them enjoy their prom- their graduation. One last night out with their friends.” Lyrem was asking- no, pleading more than telling.

“Immediately after. I don’t want you to be running around any longer with this target on your back. It makes me… uneasy.” Paimon adjusted in his seat. “You and I still have much to do.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Lyrem sipped on his hot chocolate as his hazel eyes glazed over from thoughts that were perhaps too deep for his own good.

[whumpingwithclara-alt]

collages I've been making

1) Danny, Nate, Ashley & Bram // @ashintheairlikesnow

2) Lyrem & Arch // @all-whumped-out

3) Subject 17 // @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are

4) Lar // @myst-in-the-mirror

5) Isaiah // @darklyria

6) Rayla // @vague-pterodactyl-noises

7) Leo // @distinctlywhumpthing

8) Ashley // @grizzlie70

9) Janet // @hopepetal

10) Akira // @grizzlie70

11) Zak // @whumper-in-training

12) Tetsu // @grizzlie70

[actress4him]

What does Lucas think of my OC Arch? They are a nonbinary, rather callous 17 year old with an attitude problem, who is becoming accustomed to carving up the people in their life that they don't particularly like.

And I'm curious to know what Ellery would think of Lyrem, a 73 yr old shop owner who has gone to great lengths to strike deals with demons and gods on humanity's behalf. Occasionally, he will toss a person into the Labyrinth if he thinks they don't deserve the mercy of being remembered in death.

- Alpaca

For a few seconds when I started reading this ask I was like, who’s Lucas? I don’t have a Lucas! 🤦🏻‍♀️ I think I tend to forget about my OCs that aren’t main protagonists.

Anyway...

Lucas doesn’t actually see himself as a whumper/bad guy, he’s just an artist with an unusual method (and anger issues). So he might actually see Arch as a “bad guy”, completely hypocritically. At the same time, though, he might get inspiration from Arch’s work.

Ellery was pretty naive and innocent before getting kidnapped by Lucas, so she’d probably be terrified/appalled if she found out the things that Lyrem was doing.

Thanks for the ask!

———————————

Want to know what my OC would think of yours? Ask away!

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics Masterlist

   Welcome to Mystics, curious Visitor!

   Need a hand finding just the right worry stone? How about a sodalite pendulum or a deck of tarot cards? Yes, we have Ouija boards aplenty, allow me to grab one from the back room for you and enjoy the tunes while you wait!

   If you get bored here, simply send through a message or an ask, and I, Alpaca, will provide you with a tale of wonder from the Great Mystic himself- Lyrem Nomadus! 

   So, eat your heart out, curious Visitor, and let me know if I can help you with anything else!

   Xx.

----

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

CHAPTER TWO: THE OLD WORLD

CHAPTER THREE: A WAXING CRESCENT

CHAPTER FOUR: SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

CHAPTER FIVE: A BLUE TRUCK AND A BIG KNIFE

CHAPTER SIX: THUNDER AND PRAYER

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE GODS OF JUST AND UNJUST MEN

CHAPTER EIGHT: A FULL MOON RISES

CHAPTER NINE: GEMINI PT I

CHAPTER TEN: GEMINI PT II

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE PAST IS SPENT AND DONE WITH 

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A WANING CRESCENT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GOOD TALK

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: FORWARD

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HIGH NOON

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DINNER IS SERVED

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A BLAST FROM THE PAST

CHAPTER TWENTY: OH SHIT OH FUCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: JUST A STEP AWAY

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ROOM 111

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TAKING NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN LYREM MET PAIMON

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: POOR THING

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE GREAT ESCAPE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: TEENAGE WASTELAND

TO BE CONTINUED...

Mystics Behind the Scenes Interviews (asks)

Relieving Scenarios 

I Have a Job For You (Lyrem and Arch meet Lynne the knight)

You Want Him? (Lyrem and Arthur meet the whumper, Vikram)

Don’t Flirt with a Demon

Maleficent’s an Asshole 

New Meat? (Paimon gets to meet Damien and Lar from The Castle Series)

Flashback Fever

When Lyrem Met Paimon 

Maria

Coke and Cotton Candy

WELCOME TO MYSTICS, THE SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

[alpaca-writes]

I’d like to introduce Vikram (whumper) who’s the son of a billionaire. He’s hardworking and always rewards his employees. But he hates being disrespected and becomes extremely vindictive when it happens. He’s very intelligent and owns his own estate, which of course gives him the opportunity to kidnap whumpees and torture them to death :(

(Physical description- blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, broad frame, wears a tux if he’s going outside).

Vikram: hello! *puts out a hand to shake.

Lyrem clasps the man’s hand, with a genuine smile painting his face. Lyrem studies Vikram closely, as if trying to remember him from long ago. 

“My my! I think you were about the size of a loaf of bread the last time I saw you! And I see that you have grown into your father’s good looks!” Lyrem finally releases his hold on the man’s hands and sighs graciously. “You might be surprised to know I did a bit of work for him, way, way back- before he struck gold with his investments.” 

Lyrem winks playfully under his greying-to-white brows. Before the conversation could continue any further, a firm hand shoves the old man out of the way. 

Arthur looks up from his phone, thankful to have one for the moment, since he needed to quickly use it for Urban Dictionary after hearing an unfamiliar term.

“Whumpees,” he started with flaming eyes. He ignored the disdainful glares from Lyrem who moved to stand behind him. “You torture people? You hurt them and- and kill them for kicks? What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“Cwsg sydyn,”

Arthur felt a quick pinch at the back of his neck and promptly collapsed to the ground. Lyrem stood behind him, with a quick roll of his eyes. 

“That’s a spell I learned from the fae,” he explained. “It was enough to put Merlin out for a while. With this idiot, it may last a few weeks.”

There was an awkward pause as the two men stood over Arthur’s body. 

Lyrem looked up to Vikram, expectantly. 

“Well? You can take him if you want him. I certainly don’t.”

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

I decided to take an unusual angle with this one, I hope you don’t mind that Lyrem inserts himself into Vikram’s father’s past. I love Damro and Vikram, by the way! 

Thank you so much for the ask! And I am sorry that Arch was unavailable to meet Vikram this time around.

- Alpaca

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 32

Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, and everything seems to be going well. In fact, their life nearly becomes perfection; no more bullies, better grades, and a lot less stress. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems and that Lyrem has been hiding a very dark, and troubling secret…

Oooh I have to say I’m pretty proud of this chapter. I had to wrestle with a thousand and one plot-holes to make it work and it’s almost 2:30am but it was all worth it. Enjoy!

MasterList 

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

CW: Gore, body horror, creepy whumper, swearing, there’s one bad pun this time. I lol’d about it for arguably too long.

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

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: CURTAINS

         Paimon whistled an old tune through his lips as he stepped across the hall. The knives had been placed away, and in speaking with Apollo, he had come to a startling revelation about himself and his goals.

         It was Arthur’s turn to be strapped down to the table and this time, it wouldn’t be in a dining hall. Before long, Paimon had the room transformed into a stage, with dining chairs to line the one and only audience row. There was no need for a large gathering. Paimon had a very limited guest list. He had sent invitations with some poorly thought puns just for the fun of it, and had no intention of being stood up. This would be a performance of a lifetime and as director, Paimon wouldn’t dare to have a single aspect go awry.

         He clucked his hooves down the darkest hallway by-passing Apollo’s chamber for the one with the two sorry humans. It seemed they were cut off from a sour discussion when they heard his steps through the corridor.

         “-it really shouldn’t take too much effort”-

         “How would you know?” Lyrem hissed.

         Paimon smiled, glad that the two prisoners were making nice with each other.

         “Big plans, my boys?” he sauntered through, making eye contact with Arthur, who rolled his eyes away from the creature to avoid looking at him fully. “No? Not a fishing trip or some good old mountaineering? I hear Colorado is gorgeous this time of year.”

         Paimon tapped a chain with a fingernail to produce a clinking sound near Arthur’s wrist. The chains began lowering themselves down at the behest of an invisible, magical force. The moment he had slack, Arthur wrapped a loop of chain around Paimon’s neck and pulled it taut against his forearm. He had the upper hand, and there was nothing that Paimon could do to affect him.

         “Agree to let Arch out of this deal right now, you”-

         Paimon grinned and vanished into a plume of black smoke. Arthur stumbled from the release of pressure against the beast.

         Paimon stalked up behind him, enjoying the little act of defiance, but he had to be stern. He wagged a finger at the human and tutted.

         “You know better than that,” Paimon exclaimed. “I may not be able to hurt you with magic, but I can certainly still use it to get myself out of a sticky situation.”

         He kept himself to a distance as not to get tied up twice, and glanced toward Lyrem, who seemed to be keeping to himself and was intentionally avoiding eye contact by turning his head away.

         “So emotional… Don’t worry old friend, you’ll get your chance as well,” Paimon noted. He returned to Arthur with a renewed interest in his eyes. “Now, you listen. We have quite the performance ahead of us and you’re already busted up enough as it is. I don’t want to make it any worse. That’s for Arch to do.”

         Arthur glanced from Paimon to his way out into the hall and then back again.

         “Clear terms,” Arthur began, “Arch is given five minutes to carve out my heart, and if they fail, they are free from all bonds, any agreements, including any signed ones they had with you. And if you use even one ounce of your power to force them”-

         Paimon nodded, “I don’t know why you need to specify it, Arty, truly. Arch will do splendidly and you’ll never see the light of day again. It’s a winning situation all around.”

         “If you try to force them into doing anything at all,” Arthur insisted. “Then Arch is released, agreed?”

         Paimon scoffed, and nodded, “Agreed! For goodness sakes, were you a lawyer in a past life? Clearly not, I think. The lawyers I know wouldn’t come to an agreement like this unless it was in writing- they’d also think of themselves first. Do you have any clue what will happen to you, Arty? What will become of you if Arch is released?”

         As Paimon rambled, he tapped the shackles again, and this time with severe discipline, Arthur refrained from trying to strike at Paimon a second time. His shackles were joined now; morphed from a joint in the wall to linking together from his wrists and his ankles with hardly a sound to it.

         “I don’t care what happens to me,” Arthur declared, “as long as Arch is free from you.”

         “Such a sweet thing, caring about your Arch so much. I doubt that feeling will last for very much longer.” Paimon ushered Arthur forward. He was unable to teleport him anyway. The Abysmal Flame prevented Arthur from being controlled by any force placed upon him that was not physical in nature. “Move along now, we don’t have all day. Our guests will be arriving shortly.”

         With a final glance to Lyrem from across the room, Arthur followed Paimon out the door and through the halls.

         The hall lit itself as Paimon took his hoof-steps through, avoiding the empty souls lurking between shadowed pillars. Arthur moved slowly, feeling tired and sick from his lacking energy.

“What guests?” Arthur inquired.

         “Did I not tell you earlier that it was a performance? I invited several guests to have front row seats… my uncle Hades, my half-sister, and oh, of course, your dear sister Charlotte as well.”

         Arthur’s blood ran frigid. The tense, shaky breath that followed made Paimon smirk with delight.

         “Ah yes, I’ll be sure she is there to watch her child to carve out the heart of her dear little brother. I couldn’t pass up that opportunity.”

         “But you’re also releasing Hades? And Persephone?” Arthur asked with a puzzled look as they ascended the stairs.

         “You mistake me for a fool?” Paimon challenged. “They will be bound to obeying me and my laws the moment they enter through the door I’ve created for them. Don’t think they’ll be there to do anything more than watch you suffer.”

         Paimon led Arthur up to a small door that opened to the dining hall- now a stage with some seating and a table for Arthur to lie on.

         Arthur stood at the head of the table as Paimon motioned for him to climb up. Shaking his head regretfully, he pulled his hand from his pocket, hoisted himself up and spun onto its surface. His chains were tapped again, and obeyed Paimon perfectly. They fastened themselves into the table until Arthur’s arms were taut to his side and his hands had just a little wiggle room near his hips.

         Arthur stared up at the satyr, feeling more vulnerable than he ever did before, and watched Paimon lean over eagerly. His pointed beard draped across Arthur’s shoulder and touched the tabletop.

         “This is a good look for you,” he mentioned with a deadly grin.

         Feeling humble, Arthur looked away, seeing the chairs that would soon be filled with spectators; one of which would be his sister. Suddenly, he wasn’t so concerned for himself anymore.

         “Don’t make Charlotte watch.”

         “Hmm?”

         Arthur blinked slowly, knowing that Paimon had heard him clear as day and yet pretended not to. This was all part of the fun. There was no point in repeating himself.

         From the back wall, behind the chairs, a bright light glowed where three outlines stood, waiting to make their entrance.

         “Ah, here they come.” Paimon smiled and offered Arthur a wink. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

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

Earlier,

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to create another portal.”

Lyrem sighed. Arthur’s efforts were admirable at least.

“The chains will prevent you from crossing through,” he said. “Besides, I’ve already explained to you once that the only way out of this is to go through with the deal you made”-

“I’m not trying to make a portal for me,” Arthur spoke exasperated. “I’m trying to create one for you. I know how these things go down, alright? You get into a deal with someone and then they change the rules, they raise the price because they know what you need from them. Once Arch is out of their deal, Paimon will use them against me. Arch might end up back at square one if we don’t have a significant amount of leverage.”

“Life as a junkie has certainly prepared you for this moment, hasn’t it?”

Arthur stared at the old man incredulously at the sudden unloading of baggage, and shook his head.

“My apologies” Lyrem corrected himself and cleared his throat. “You hope to release me, which won’t work, and then expect me to… do what?”

“Release Apollo. Find your friend Hekate… I assume you are resourceful enough to figure something out so that we can finally end this nightmare. It really shouldn’t take too much effort.”

“How would you know?” Lyrem hissed.

Falling to a sudden silence, Lyrem made a quick glance to Arthur as Paimon entered. Paimon addressed Arthur first.

Arthur was in no condition to create portals. Lyrem could see that he was in pain enough already as it was, but even so, Arthur’s eyes locked with his for the briefest of seconds when the chains became loose. Arthur had directed his eyes to Lyrem and then nodded toward his left hand.

The smallest of voids had formed behind his hand and into the metal piece that held his wrist up. Before Paimon could pay any significant attention to Lyrem, Arthur had wrapped a chain around his neck and started to threaten him.

Perhaps Lyrem had misjudged Arthur’s capacity to be clever, but it was still only one small portal; a gap in space and time where his wrist could pass through. It wasn’t quite enough to set Lyrem free; not yet, anyhow. Lyrem took the distraction as an opportunity to recite a mantra respecting the sacred geometry; one that would hopefully allow him to multiply one portal into four.

“Ek mein do, do mein chaar,” he whispered. The power flowed through him like water; out of earshot from Paimon, who hadn’t even realized that Lyrem was reciting ancient magic that no one had any claim over.

“So emotional… Don’t worry old friend, you’ll get your chance as well.”

Lyrem ignored Paimon’s words, still concentrating on himself instead. Soon, the other two exited the room, and Lyrem recited his words one final time before falling completely forward onto his hands and knees.

“Even as a dead man, I still feel pain,” he muttered bitterly. “How is that fair?”

He grunted, lifting himself to his feet and turned around, noticing the shackles were still intact and the voids still existing on their metal cuffs. In a spark of light, the four voids collapsed into themselves and left nothing behind.

“Must learn how to do that one day…” Remembering the task at hand, he rubbed his hands together and made his way through to the hall. “Now, to find our… leverage.”

Paimon and Arthur were gone from the hall, and it was left in darkness. The decrepit beings that roamed the halls there ignored him as he followed the corridor down to where he knew Apollo would be kept as a prisoner. The light still poured from beneath, leaking out into the hall. Lyrem took a quick glance from side to side and opened the door.

Lyrem forced himself forward towards the Sun God with his eyes squinting through the brightness. The light dimmed as the god awoke, exhausted from his half-brother’s brief visit. Lyrem started on one of the shackles holding Apollo in place around a wrist but realized soon that they were clearly the same as the ones he had only just escaped from, one room over and wouldn’t be able to get through them without help.

“Shit,” Lyrem muttered. Apollo did not look surprised or like he cared.

“Controlled by Pan, for Pan, I’m afraid,” he managed. “Did you, a silly little mortal, really believe that you could release me? There was a good reason why I sent that call through to you. I wanted to reach Persephone, or Hades.

You are useless.”

Lyrem backed off from Apollo, put on edge from the insulting remark.

“I’ll have you know I contained a great amount of magical prowess before I met your brother! Now, help me find a way to release you before”-

Apollo chuckled tiredly.

“What? What is so funny?”

“You,” Apollo answered. “You are a fool! The reason I am here at all is because Pan convinced you to tear out your father’s heart. I couldn’t give him what he wanted when I lost. I bet on the wrong horse’s conscience, didn’t I? And now, you are here, trying to right all the wrong you’ve done at the behest of Pan and oh… it just makes me laugh. It’s practically poetry.”

“Well, then,” Lyrem didn’t have time to explain himself, nor should he have to at all. His life was just laid out before him once again as a used chew toy on the ground. Now Apollo was the one judging him for his decisions. Lyrem looked to Apollo’s chest that was opened and bore a golden heart, still pumping. It was the source of the light. Paimon had left the clamp on to hold the gaping wound open. Lyrem touched the metal handle, and jolted back as it was very hot- as though it had been sitting in the heat of a flame. He quickly soothed his hand, weaved a protection spell through his fingers and promptly tried a second time. He gripped it, loosened the bar, and pulled.

Apollo screamed. The release of his wound was more painful than either of them had expected it to be. Lyrem tossed the metal bar to the ground and raised a brow. The light faded more and more as the wound healed over in record time.

“How was that?” Lyrem sniffed, wiping the golden blood off of his hands and onto his pant leg. “Was that a good enough deed for you? Or should I have torn your heart out for fun? Believe it or not, I am capable of making rational decisions- even those where my dear dad was involved. If you had known him, you’d have ripped him apart too.”

Apollo had no choice but to listen to Lyrem as his body recovered quite painfully.

“Maria once told me that I was too passionate- too emotional for her. I tried to rectify that, in order to please her, to please Pan, and everyone else I had come across in life thinking that I was always doing something wrong. But, I see now, emotional is part of who I am. Doing things out of emotion does not make me any less rational- on the contrary I believe it has made me much more productive.” Lyrem stopped speaking as Apollo met his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The god exhaled, thankful that his chest had closed up completely. The light in the room had gone out, leaving the ambient glow of the bulbs along the wall. Lyrem stood along the ledge, searching for any portion of chain that might be weak enough to sever. There wasn’t. If Lyrem remembered correctly, Paimon had once boasted about acquiring them from Ares, the God of War and he wasn’t anything, if not particular about securing prisoners. But Ares hadn’t met Lyrem Nomadus, and Lyrem Nomadus wasn’t planning to leave Apollo chained up in the basement of the Underworld without trying a few tricks of his own. Unbound by the chains and without Paimon around to interfere, Lyrem was much handier than any god would expect. The chains began to lower, releasing slack to Apollo until his bare feet rested on the floor.

“How are you doing that?” Apollo asked. He turned his head. Lyrem hadn’t done visibly, anything to warrant the lowering chains. Their lengths clinked to the floor.

“A calming chant, a song of innocence- although…”

“What?” Apollo asked, impatient in Lyrem’s pause. The cuffs hadn’t released.

“To release you, would mean you would have to give Paimon what he was owed,” Lyrem said. “What do you owe to him?”

Apollo grunted, “he doesn’t deserve what I owe him. Not after everything he has done to our family and to me.”

Lyrem raised a brow in mild confusion, “then why stick by his side? Why play his games at all?”

“Because I care about him,” he growled back. “Like an idiot. I humored him because I felt like I had to- like I could make him better if I gave him my attention. He’s my family, and one of my closest kin. And… He’s a lost cause.”

Out of habit, Lyrem reached for his stopwatch, which had been destroyed long ago, just to see how much time had passed them by. Such an indication only told him that they would be running out of time soon enough.

         Arch would be carving into Arthur at any moment now.

         “What did Paimon want?”

         “He wanted a Sun for his realm, the Labyrinth.”

         “Give it to him.” Lyrem ordered. “And when he goes back, you will lock him in. Can you manage that?”

         “Lock my brother in his own realm?” Apollo looked skeptical, but nodded. “I’ll do what I can. But truthfully, there is no guarantee”-

         “And we’ll have to remove one of the Labyrinth’s inhabitants first. A little girl. Maybe a year old,” Lyrem added.

         “There is a child in the Labyrinth? Why?” Concerned, Apollo watched Lyrem gulp slightly.

         “I’d rather not say.” Lyrem gestured for Apollo to open a door to the Labyrinth. “But you could take her out of there, couldn’t you? And she would be… fine?”

         “I believe so,” Apollo pushed his hands together in concentration, and then pulled them apart until a void grew in front of them. “Once the Sun is delivered there, I should be able to remove her quite easily.”

         “Good, good…” Lyrem muttered. “Well? What are you waiting for? Give him the Su”-

         They were no longer in the basement area. Instead, Lyrem was seated in a chair from the dining hall and staring out at a familiar set of faces. One was on the table, trying to speak to the shorter one standing over them with a jeweled blade; Arthur was pleading with them to listen- to hear them. But Arch was in the middle of a sweet guitar lick and couldn’t hear anything happening, even if it was only a foot or two away. They were waiting to the next song before they started their five-minute carving challenge, just as Paimon asked them to. Charlotte sat beside him on one side and beyond her, Persephone and Hades. All watched on, not paying mind to Lyrem and Apollo’s sudden arrival. Paimon found his own seat between Lyrem and Apollo and sat himself down.

         He chuckled looking from one disappointed face to the other and handed each of them a pamphlet. Grinning, he patted both of them on the shoulder.

“Glad you both could make opening night.”

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics Masterlist

Welcome to Mystics, curious Visitor!

  Need a hand finding just the right worry stone? How about a sodalite pendulum or a deck of tarot cards? Yes, we have Ouija boards aplenty, allow me to grab one from the back room for you and enjoy the tunes while you wait!

  If you get bored here, simply send through a message or an ask, and I, Alpaca, will provide you with a tale of wonder from the Great Mystic himself- Lyrem Nomadus!

  So, eat your heart out, curious Visitor, and let me know if I can help you with anything else!

—-

  If you enjoy your stay, please tell your friends about Mystics and spread the word by hitting the reblog button! Xx. -Alpaca

—-

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

CHAPTER TWO: THE OLD WORLD

CHAPTER THREE: A WAXING CRESCENT

CHAPTER FOUR: SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

CHAPTER FIVE: A BLUE TRUCK AND A BIG KNIFE

CHAPTER SIX: THUNDER AND PRAYER

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE GODS OF JUST AND UNJUST MEN

CHAPTER EIGHT: A FULL MOON RISES

CHAPTER NINE: GEMINI PT I

CHAPTER TEN: GEMINI PT II

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE PAST IS SPENT AND DONE WITH

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A WANING CRESCENT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GOOD TALK

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: FORWARD

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HIGH NOON

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DINNER IS SERVED

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A BLAST FROM THE PAST

CHAPTER TWENTY: OH SHIT OH FUCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: JUST A STEP AWAY

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ROOM 111

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TAKING NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHEN LYREM MET PAIMON

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: POOR THING

TO BE CONTINUED…

Mystics Behind the Scenes Interviews (asks)

Relieving Scenarios

I Have a Job For You (Lyrem and Arch meet Lynne the knight)

You Want Him? (Lyrem and Arthur meet the whumper Vikram)

Flashback Fever

When Lyrem Met Paimon

Maria

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 21

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

Read Chapters 1-20 and more HERE

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

CW: implied captivity, creepy whumper, dead body,

A slightly shorter chapter so that we can catch up with Marcus and Arthur :) 

(If you enjoy my work, please reblog) Xx.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: JUST A STEP AWAY

        His hand gripped the bowie knife like it was the only thing keeping him from slipping back into that room and into those chains. And Marcus was running. He was running, though his legs were threatening to give out beneath him, and his mind was focused only on the next lengthy sprint ahead of him. He was heading home, and he would be completely unable to explain where he had been. It wasn’t important enough to think about what to say, he just needed safety. Unable to continue on any longer, Marcus stopped beneath a pole where the light above it had conveniently switched off.

        “You alright, son?” An unfamiliar voice inquired. “What are you running from?”

        He jumped, in the middle of catching his breath. His instincts were frazzled and unpracticed. The only sound he could produce in the moment was a strained gasp. He wouldn’t have minded a little help; even a friendly face would be better than nothing, but ultimately, he knew that on a deserted street it wouldn’t be wise to accept help from strangers. The man continued his approached slowly. The light over Marcus turned on again, filling the space with a glow from above. He noted a distinct sound to the man’s steps. Like he was wearing clogs.

        Hunched over and grasping the knotted cramp in his side, Marcus’ eyes rested on the sidewalk. He looked to the side, sensing something out of place. Perhaps his instincts weren’t totally fried. He stood straight again, keeping his eyes on the figure before him now; the thing with the hooves.

        “I-I’m fine,” he managed, taking a single step to the side. All he wanted was to go home. Couldn’t he just go home?

        “You certainly don’t look fine.” Paimon looked down at himself and realized all too late, why Marcus had first regarded him with such hostility. “Oh, dear me. In all the rush, I suppose I’ve forgotten to dress myself properly.”

        The man closed the gap suddenly. Marcus reacted and swiped the bowie knife across the man’s face to keep him away. It connected, and for a moment, Marcus believed he had missed, since the man didn’t really seem to care. A thin stream of blood ran down the side of his face as he stepped into the light.

        “Go ahead,” Paimon chuckled. “Try to do me in the way you did Lyrem. See how it ends for you.”

        “I-I”- Marcus stumbled over his words, and then backed up into the empty street as he tried to rightfully assert his innocence in the situation- but alas, he had stolen Arthur’s blade, and so anyone would have assumed that Marcus was the reason Lyrem’s body lay crumpled there. “I didn’t do it- I- I swear it man. It was this other guy”-

        Paimon sighed, his antlers morphed above his head, changing in the glinting streetlight. His eyes; solid shadow.

“He was a friend to me, you know.”

        Paimon snapped his fingers, and Marcus was promptly immersed into the Depths of Despair. There was quite the opportunity here. Paimon wouldn’t dream of letting it go to waste.

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

        Arthur rummaged through one of three old Rubbermaid bins in the back room, trying to be quick, as he suspected Marcus’ return to the world would provide him with more guests than he wanted at the moment.  Lyrem had a stash of interesting items back here, but how to use any of them as a weapon, he didn’t know. Finally, at the bottom of the bin, he saw something more familiar. It was a cloudy jar of liquid, beside a simple King James Holy book that horror movies loved to reference. It was old holy water, perhaps, but it would do well for when he found that wretched demon again. He threw a yellow stone to the side, and added the jar to his collection of useful items.

        “Perfect,” he whispered under his breath. The rest of the Rubbermaid bins only had stacks of old albums, CDs rarely played and easily discarded, and a few old toys- stuffed animals, and a single clear plastic soother that had yellowed with age. There was a baggy of bright pink sparkling confetti in that bin as well. Shaking his head, he picked up an old gyro wheel and flicked it into rotation as he pondered who these items would have belonged to once.

        Arthur carried it across the room, twisting his wrist at regular intervals. Earlier, he had found a length of rope stashed along the wall, and large beaming flashlight with a fresh d-cell. With no available plan to find Arch or where Paimon might have taken them, he resolved himself to the next best plan: diving into the Labyrinth. He had to find Charlotte- and if he was very lucky, perhaps Arch would be down there too.

        The rope wasn’t infinitely long, but the idea that Arthur had was fairly simple. He’d lead the rope through the doorway, and allow the Labyrinth to take him again, then once inside, he would explore it, search for Charlotte, and leave a trail of sparkling pink confetti behind him. When he found her, only then would he use the flashlight and his makeshift trail to find his way back to the rope. The holy water would be used for defense against any other demons he might find- the gyro wheel was to keep him calm.

        It wasn’t a perfect plan, by any means, but it was the only one he had. On top of everything, he had recently lost his favourite knife, and so he found a freshly sharpened bejeweled one to replace it.

        Before tying himself off in the alleyway, he resorted to placing his hands over his hips to stare down Lyrem’s now very deceased body. He grunted as he picked it up by the shoulders. Managing to avoid the labyrinth once again, Arthur plopped Lyrem’s body unceremoniously into the back room, knowing that the journey “down-under” would last beyond morning and the less people who came down that alleyway, the better it would be.

        He packed all his things needed into a small pack, tied off the rope to an emergency escape outside, and finally opened the door. Listening to the howls of the void, Arthur did a quick mental check, before stepping inside with eyes wide open to find his sister.