"Are you coming up yet?" Szene's concerned voice carried through the open bedroom door. She thought of getting up to help her, but the weight of exhaustion pinned her to the quilted blankets, her body heavy from the day's relentless planning. "Claire?" Her voice filled the entire room.
"I'm coming," Claire said, ascending the stairs with her cane in hand. She used the railing on her left for balance and support. She eyed her left pocket before keeping order. "Just... one more step."
Claire climbed the last step and slipped into the bedroom with her gaze settling on Szene. She wanted the answers to the truth of the realm, yet she knew that Szene would never disclose the truth had the realm been fake. She set the cane against the door and leaned into its frame with her gaze pressing Szene with an unspoken question. Yet before she could speak, Szene startled her with a pressing concern.
"I know you're still down about her." Szene's voice slipped through the quiet, soft but weighted with concern.
"Who?" Claire's reply was barely more than breath.
"The black‑haired girl," Szene continued, her tone steady yet shadowed. "Remember? You couldn't stop crying for weeks when she died."
Black‑haired girl…? Claire's eyes flicked sideways. Lyn?
"You have to understand," Szene pressed, "Your involvement in it is second to none. It was a freak accident, okay? We did what we had to do to protect you. But today's your birthday, and you can't drown yourself in those memories. You wouldn't want to ruin it, right?"
Her mind circled towards the existence of the realm and what came to pass before she awakened, but she couldn't grasp anything. It was nothing but mystery and pure conjecture.
"Well? Come on. Say something!" Szene beckoned toward her. "You're acting so weird today, Claire. On your birthday, out of all days-"
"No," Claire's voice turned cold and dark, seething with denial and skepticism. "You need to let me out of here. None of this is real, and if you think you're doing this for me, then go to hell. You're not my sister. You don't know anything about me or what I want, so stop pretending."
Szene held her composure from Claire's explosive reaction. She slid toward the center of the bed with grace and planted her palms flat against the sheets behind her shoulders. A mocking smirk curled on her mouth while her gaze locked onto Claire with threatening eyes.
"You... don't like what I've built for you?" Szene murmured. Her voice seemed less as a question and more of a threat.
"Who are you?" Claire demanded.
Szene's smirk widened. "I'm you, of course. I'm the part in your mind that craves the attention and affection you've always wanted, but no one would dare give it to you. Why would they? After everything you did to your mother and father... and the curse you put on your new family?"
Claire lunged forward and sent her cane clattering against the floor with a sharp thud. Her body's strength failed her and she crashed onto the hardwood with a painful bang. "You don't know anything about me-" She seethed.
"Who knows more than yourself, Claire?" Szene continued to taunt her even when she was down. "I built this place for you, right down to the nail of what you've always desired. I gave you a home, with all four of them at your side. No rules or chains of Qliphos to hold you down. A home that's better than the rundown village you were in. All of this... and more. All you have to do is accept me, Claire."
"You asshole," Claire spat, looking down at her crumpled legs. "And you made my legs like this, just so I couldn't leave?"
"Your legs were always weak," Szene said. "And your black-haired friend, always dragging you down, even when your potential was so much greater before. You could have been so much stronger without her."
"Who... are you even talking about? Lyn was past your time."
"I'm not talking about her," Szene said, standing up from the bed. She yanked Claire off of the ground and shoved her on the bed. Pain jutted on her legs, stunning her from retaliating back. Szene clamped her hands on her shoulders once more, digging her nails down onto them until they bled. She was thrilled over Claire's suffering, snickering at her screams. "I'm talking about that deadbeat girl who stole your LIFE from me!"
Before Claire could swing at her own sister's face, Szene snatched her neck and began to strangle her.
"She used you just so that she could become greater than ever before!" Szene continued to spit aberrant thoughts out with baseless origins. "And then you fell in love with her, all because of what?!"
Claire's eyes convulsed as her arms jerked and flailed toward her left pants pocket.
"I'll show you... exactly what you should have done." Szene continued.
Producing a metal object from her pocket, Claire reared it upward.
"You should have died the moment SHE DID!"
With a sharp jolt upward, Claire impaled a screwdriver into the back of Szene's hand, nearly piercing through her own neck. She shoved her off with her arms, flinging her back against the bedroom wall. Hung portraits and trinkets collapsed on top of her, obscuring her vision as Claire charged at her once more after seizing control of her breath. She seized Szene's stabbed hand and dragged her toward the banister, zip tying her wrist with one of Thatcher's tools.
"FUCK YOU, ENVIE, you fucking COWARD!" Szene spat, flailing her right arm out. "Run away, then, ENVIE! Keep running! I got a whole fucking lot more to throw at you once you're out of this place! If you can even make it out! HAHA!"
Dismissing her false sister's words, Claire sprawled down the staircase until she found the bolt cutters she stole from Thatcher's tool room, propped up beside the chained room. She crawled towards it without her cane and used it to prop herself up for balance. As she intended to lean against the wall beside the chained room to cut it open, a strong headlock from behind pulled her back, choking the life out of her once more. It was Thatcher, who snuck up on her from behind with his burly arms, intending to kill her on the spot.
With her useless legs, Claire had no means to escape. She closed her eyes and concentrated her attention on a way out of it. Recalling the kitchen directly behind her, Claire headbutted Thatcher's face with the back of her skull, stunning him back onto the countertop with the food he cooked for her. She grabbed a knife that fell to the ground from the impact of his slump and stabbed his heel, twisting it to send him falling to the ground beside her.
"You fuck…" he snarled, his voice guttural, dripping with hate. His eyes burned with a feral gleam as he spat again, defiant even in pain. "You... weren't meant to exist... you murderer...!"
"SHUT UP!" She screamed. Claire's chest expanded as she snatched the knife from the ground. Fury ignited in her eyes as she was reminded of her mistake once more. With a surge of desperation to escape, she thrust the knife toward his throat once until his eyes rotated to the back of his head, dead upon contact. Black blood spewed out of his throat and onto Claire's face, which resembled a liking to black ink.
Claire's fingers trembled as they closed around the bolt cutters resting on the black‑stained floor. She forced herself upright once more, but the silence of Thatcher's death shattered as Mossen burst through the patio door. Before Claire could brace herself, he slammed into her, driving her to the ground.
His weight crushed her chest and his hands clamped around her throat, cutting off her air once more. Pirelle moved inside from the open patio door and darted into the kitchen, searching frantically for a weapon to defend himself.
Claire's vision blurred. Her desire for survival from the false realm steadied her, regaining strength in her body. Her eyes trailed downward as she grabbed the bolt cutters beneath her. With a guttural shout, she wrenched them upward and drove it into Mossen's stomach. A deathly sound tore from his throat as black blood erupted from within, spilling across her hands. She shoved him aside with the cutters and staggered back to her feet with the bolt cutters. Her gaze locked in on the chained door.
But before she could reach it, Pirelle stabbed down on her shoulder with a knife. The pain was beyond her control. She spun with her bolt cutters raised and slashed across Pirelle's face. The sharp edge cut through his cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground with black blood gushing from her wound.
A guttural scream tore from her throat as she lifted the cutters high and brought them down again, and again on his face. The sound of metal crunching against bone reverberated through the room, until his face was no longer recognizable. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the horror of what she had done again.
Regret surged through her mind as she murdered her adopted family, proving what Szene and Thatcher had said to her previously. But after seeing the black ink spilling from their wounds, her grief was only temporary. Her tears slowed as her breath steadied, and the regret that had clawed at her heart was kicked out.
"Proved my point exactly," Szene's voice came from the top of the staircase. "Now you'll die here."
The surroundings of the lavish manor began to shift from bright white to a blood red before melting. The bright white walls bled like wax at the edges, as if someone ignited a worldwide flame. The chandeliers above her crumpled to ashes, and the white floors beneath her rippled in heat. The drapes beside the patio fell off and melded into the floor, and the scent of fresh breakfast had morphed into the scent of blood.
The manor melted, but all that remained was the solidity of the chained door. As the sludge beneath her began to take control of her legs, Claire lunged toward it once more and began prying the chains off one by one, concentrating her attention on not dropping it. Glass window panes beside her shattered one by one as the manor began to cave in. The sense of urgency only arose when it would be mere seconds before she would be flooded in her own death.
"YOU CAN'T RUN, ENVIE!" Szene cackled as her figure also began to morph into sludge. "DAYS WILL PASS, AND YOU'LL BE REMINDED OF WHAT YOU TRULY ARE IN THE NEXT LIFE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
One final snip at the chains sent the bolt cutters to the ground. Claire yelped as she pulled the door open, revealing a blinding flash of light that overcame her vision. Without another word, she dove inside, sending a frenzy of undiscernible images warping through.
All of the chaos ensued in the manor subsided as soon as Claire found herself standing upright with her legs completely functional and normal. The blinding light winded down as the scent of honey maneuvered through her nostrils. She found herself wearing the attire the Figments gifted her, making her believe that she had escaped the false realm.
But she hadn't; not yet, at least. She found herself in a small room full of writing and sketch equipment. Ink bottles and scattered papers across a massive table in the center of the room made her aware that this was a room for a dedicated artist, with the amount of supplies stacked on top of each other throughout such a small establishment. An open patio range brushed fresh spring air into the room, and white translucent drapes swished in response.
Claire turned to the end of the room to find someone sketching a black-haired warrior with a quill. She wore the same dress that she had gifted Ardine's deceased daughter from the outskirts of Qliphos's Ionis 9, adorned in her white and black snow flaked dress. Although she could not see her face, the back of her head resembled Claire as well, with her short thin brown ponytail and posture resembling grace.
As she quietly eluded to her relief in being able to walk again, Claire stepped toward the artist, realizing that she was unaware of her presence. Extending her hand towards her, a voice from the distance called out of nowhere and startled her.
All this work, and for what?
You're with me now. Forget about her.
She won't be able to see this. Why waste your time?
"Excuse me," Claire murmured, laying her right hand on the artist's shoulder. The touch went unanswered, but the quill in her hand slid to the table to set it down. Claire shook the woman's shoulder to get her attention. The stool she sat upon creaked as she rose, turning as slow as an unwinding clock. "Hello?"
When the face lifted itself, it was Claire's own face that she met, like a mirrored image. The real Claire gasped in horror, frozen on the spot. Her gentle eyes stared down at the ground, as if she was lost in pondering thought. Ink splotches, burning blemishes, and callouses stained her frail and fragile hands, as if she was tortured for the time she was drawing. The life and soul of her eyes had lifted away, with all trails of it sent towards hopelessness and emptiness.
I'll be out there, entertaining everyone
While you stay up here.
She won't come back
No matter how much you want her to.
"Hey. Hey!" Claire called, reaching toward her once more. Only this time, her hand went straight through her like a phantom.
"If I catch you trying to escape again, you're dead, do you hear me!?" A voice from behind Claire startled her. The artist resembling Claire's eyes jumped up, terrified beyond order as a white haired man wearing regal fancy robes from long centuries past approached her with a slap to the cheek. "Do you HEAR ME!?"
"HEY!" Claire yelled, lunging at him. But the same effect from before occurred again; she passed straight through him. She watched as the clone of her sobbed profusely, but no tears came out as if she had run out entirely.
"I'm keeping this place together, so ACTlike it, got it?" The white haired man exclaimed, voice searing with distaste.
After examining the white-haired man further, Claire was sure as rain she knew who he was. "Alfaic..." She muttered, hate seething through her teeth.
The man resembling Alfaic brushed his coat against the artist and exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Claire turned back to the artist that resembled her identical twin, waving at her once more to grab her attention.
"Hey, can you see me?" Claire asked.
She showed no response or awareness of her presence.
"I need to get out of here, but I need your help," Claire continued, hoping in any sort of manner her interaction would change. "Please. I know you want to get out of here too, but-"
The artist turned around and moved toward the art piece she had been drawing. She pressed her palm against the black-haired warrior that resembled Lyn, holding a blade that resembled Déraciné. She was posed in a way that brought out pure strength and prowess, something that Claire never truly noticed during combat. The artist approached it and pressed her cheek against the ripples on the paper. She pressed her palm against it, caressing it as if it were her own child.
"Did you make this?" Claire asked.
The artist turned around and stared directly through Claire. It was evident that she wasn't talking at her, but towards her.
"I miss you." The artist said. Her tone, voice, and intonation resembled exactly Claire. Her eyes trailed off once more before she approached the door Claire entered through, legs wobbling in weakness. She grabbed the same cane that Claire used back at the manor beside the door side, opened the door, and left without another word.
Claire leaned closer to the portrait of Lyn, scanning the contents of the drawing for any abnormalities. Suddenly, a cold presence winded behind her, sending ripples of wind through her skin. The white‑haired man materialized without a sound, appearing in front of Claire with his hands in his robe pockets. "You're not supposed to be here," He said, voice low and amused.
Claire spun with her jaw tight. "Who are you?" She asked. Her brow curled downward, watching him as he chuckled with his chin tucked to his chest as if he was savoring an inside joke.
"You're the other half, aren't you?" He asked. "Who knew fate would hand it to someone so clumsy and irreconcilable."
She stepped forward, forcing the question out. "Tell me everything. The manor and my family. My sister's twisted words... you did that, didn't you? You spoke through her."
He chuckled once more. "You called her your sister once, but you're blind to who truly lived in you. She survives in your flesh, still steeped in the same injustice. I made this realm and everything you've ever wanted. But you won't escape this time. Because I write this chapter."
"Alfaic," Claire hissed. "I know that's you. You tortured her?"
The man's smile widened. "Torture? No. I gave her life, Envie. In my pages I bind her... and you will never reunite."
Envie... Claire's gaze dropped, then snapped up as a realization formed. He was mesmerized by the appearance of the white-haired man. She seemed to have discovered a breakthrough, revealing the intent and origin of who he was. Her eyes glared up at him, wanting to confirm her suspicions.
"You're his father, aren't you?" She guessed.
The man approached Claire with a frightening gaze. She towered over her easily. "And what if I said I was?"
"Then I'm going to kill you for what you did to my family, you bastard."
"Very noble words for someone who lacks their own blade," The man chuckled. "But I'm not his father. I'm your memory… and all that's left of it."
"His father? So you know him… don't you?"
Before he could answer, a rip of light tore open behind her. Arisz's cold hand clamped the collar at the nape of her neck and yanked her through the portal. The world contorted through dimensions once more until Claire fell flat on a bed of water, splashing outward as she made her plummet through. With her body fully soaked in water, she tried to make her way up, until her folded blade dropped right beside her, extended outward in greeting.
"Pleasure to see you again, my little apprentice." Arisz's voice breathed familiarity in her ears.
Hearing his voice was nothing but bliss, although she needed to confirm that she hadn't been dreaming once more. Twenty minutes in the realm felt like days to her. Though her body had returned to its regular form, her legs throbbed with phantom pain, aching as if the realm refused to release its grip on her. She gripped her blade and looked upward, watching a shadow close to her reveal itself amidst the dull light echoing from the stars above.
"You okay?" Ardine asked, reaching out for him with his burnt hand.
Claire could do nothing but smile in return, in relief of his presence once more. She didn't need what the white-haired man had offered her. He was enough.
"Yeah." Claire said, clamping down on his hand to pull herself up from.
"You're... very brave," Ardine said, nodding with a fervent expression filled with resolve. "All of that with your legs, and you still made it out."
"You... saw that?" Claire's face beamed with shock.
"We did. And I'm... very proud," Ardine's face bore the weight of something unknown to Claire as his wrinkled forehead etched with neglect and sorrow. Shadows clung to his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes with a history that seemed unwritten and unspoken. He turned to Arisz. "Thank you for saving her."
Arisz grumbled in acknowledgement and moved apart from them, peering through the dreamscape distant expanse without another word.
Suddenly, a breakthrough of thought entered Claire's mind, forcing her to take charge. "Everything that's happened so far in there is confirming everything I have about Alfaic. You saw him too, didn't you?" She asked.
"I didn't see that," Ardine said. "I only saw you run through that door, and your family..."
"That wasn't my family. Nothing that he did could have made them as real as they were before. There was just so much happening that it's even hard to process properly, right now. The man behind it all... he looked exactly like Alfaic. Maybe it could have been his father or something, because he knew my name; Envie. I saw myself... drawing someone that looked like Lyn, and... then, before we were swept up in all this, Alfaic was standing in front of us before that hooded person attacked us. He has to be responsible, and I'm tired of pretending he isn't," Claire bellowed all of her thoughts on the situation out, turning to Arisz for confirmation. "Where's Lyn and Alfaic?"
"No idea." Arisz said without a single thought behind it.
"She has to be trapped in one of those dream dimensions," Claire said, gripping her blade tightly. She brought up her left hand and noticed the curse of vanishing had returned once more. She clenched her teeth tight, accepting its return before approaching Arisz in hurried formation. "We have to go get her. Can't you find her?"
"She's much further than both of you," Arisz said. "I require concentration."
"Claire," Ardine called. "Come here."
"What is it?" Claire asked, hurrying over to him.
"I'm so... proud of you." He repeated once more.
"I know. You said that alrea-"
Ardine stepped in and wrapped Claire tightly in his arms, the embrace carrying both warmth and desperation. His eyes closed as he pressed his cheek against her hair, rubbing the crown of her brown scalp with a tender and comforting touch. He was slow when he did.
Claire froze at first, startled by the sudden closeness, but the weight of his embrace softened her heart. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, clutching him warmly in silence. Relief and disbelief mingled in her chest, but she realized she was able to let it all go as soon as they were together in each other's arms.
"You know what I really want to get you right now?" Ardine asked, drawing himself away from her.
"What?"
"Some parsnips, just for you. Maybe when we're back in Buchasa?"
"We're?" Claire's eyes widened.
"Yeah," Ardine continued. "After all this is over... I was thinking about taking you back to Buchasa. It's my home where a lot of my history runs... and we could really use your help to rebuild what the Rot Mother has done to us. You could stay in my house, and you could really get along with all the kids and the other villagers."
Claire froze as disbelief washed over her. The weight of his offer pressed against her chest leaving her stunned in silence. The thought of it thrilled her. She approached closer to him and looked up at him in the same exact manner she had done so with Thatcher years ago.
"Does it look anything like that shitshow of a home that I was in?" Claire asked.
Ardine laughed. "Nothing like that." He said.
"Then... I'd love to."
"But right now, we need to focus on getting out of here... and finding that damn fragment."
"Right." Claire agreed. As the two laid their eyes back on Arisz, the memory of the chained door and what resided within lingered in her mind. The face of the carbon copy of her inside felt so hollow and lifeless that Claire longed to find her once more in hopes of changing it all for the better.
She knew her mind held answers to questions she never imagined of. Perhaps it was better to relinquish the thought, for now.