The air thrummed with ancient magic, thick and heavy, as Braedon moved with an almost ethereal grace. Thorns, as thick as a man's arm and tipped with razor-sharp barbs, erupted from the blackened earth, twisting and reaching like grasping talons. Yet, Braedon seemed to dance through their deadly ballet, his form a blur of focused intention. Each thorn that lunged was met with a nimble sidestep or a precise leap, his movements a testament to years of honed reflexes. He landed silently before the crystalline formation, a towering shard of raw power that pulsed with an inner light. Without a moment's hesitation, he drove his fist into its core.
The crystal didn't shatter or crack, not in the conventional sense. Instead, its surface rippled like disturbed water, swallowing his hand up to the elbow. A subtle resistance permeated the substance, as if the crystal itself was a living entity, pulling and pushing against his grip. Braedon grunted, a wide, challenging grin stretching across his face. "I got it," he roared, pulling hard, "and wow, it's a real fighter!" A low, glee filled guttural laugh escaped him, echoing in the strange, oppressive silence.
"Get ready, everyone," Lesh's voice sliced through the tension, sharp and urgent. He fixed his gaze on John; his staff already gripped tightly in anticipation. "We don't know what kind of god this disturbance might rouse. The moment it feels its essence become disturbed it could manifest. Be prepared for anything." John nodded, his own hand instinctively closing around the smooth gem, his eyes scanning the chaotic landscape for any sign of impending danger. The air crackled with anticipation, a prelude to the storm.
With a final, powerful tug, Braedon wrenched his arm free. Trapped within his grasp, not as a shard of crystal but as a living being, a young woman to be exact. Her short, choppy brown hair, cut in a simple pixie style, framed a face dusted with delicate freckles. Her blue eyes, wide with sheer terror as they darted frantically around the surreal environment, reflecting the frantic confusion within her. Clad only in a plain bra and panties, her vulnerability was a stark contrast to the power that had encased her.
"What's going on?! Who are you people?! Where am I?" Her voice came out as a terrified gasp, raw with fear as she struggled desperately against Braedon's unwavering hold. As she squirmed, a vibrant red thread that was previously hidden became visible, tied securely around her left wrist. John felt an immediate, inexplicable tug as he realized the other end of the thread was bound to his own wrist around his dead arm, a strange, undeniable connection forming in the chaos showing the link he had to this stranger.
The world around them buckled. A deep, resonant rumble vibrated through the very ground beneath their feet, shaking them to their core. The sky, a moment before a swirling canvas of ethereal hues, cracked like fragile glass as fissures of searing crimson light snaked across its expanse. The earth itself seemed to weep, turning a sickening shade of blood red and from its depths, a multitude of unblinking eyes slowly began to open glowing ominously as they fixed their gaze on them. Then, with a sound like tearing fabric, a rip appeared in the very air before them and a figure slowly stepped out.
She had long, flowing blonde hair, gathered into twin ponytails that bounced lightly with her movements. Her soft, porcelain-white face bore a disarmingly happy, almost giddy expression, though a subtle glint in her eyes hinted at something far more unsettling, a deep well of madness. She wore an elegant blue and white ballgown dress, cinched at the waist by a vivid red ribbon. A massive, wickedly curved scythe, red and black layered in thick veins, was strapped to her back and in her hand, she clutched a gleaming knife that shimmered in and out as if it both did and didn't exist. The air around her shimmered with an unsettling aura of power and familiarity, rippling faintly with every subtle movement she made.
John felt an icy grip seize his heart, his blood running cold in his veins. It was as if a gaping hole had been torn open in his chest, exposing raw nerves and memories he wished to burry. A single word, barely a whisper, slipped past his trembling lips, "Alice."
Her smile widened, stretching further across her face in a truly unnerving manner. "You're acting like you've seen a ghost, John," she said, her voice a melodious chime that grated on his nerves, tinged with a playful cruelty he wasn't used to hearing from her. She took a step closer; her gaze locked onto his. "This is rather strange, but then again, when is anything normal regarding you? At least that's what my memories are screaming to me." She giggled, a sound that sent shivers down his spine.
Lesh's voice, sharp with urgency, cut through the air, but John barely registered it. The spectral form of Alice, so eerily perfect, had resurrected a torrent of memories, floodgates he wanted to leave shut broken open reminding him of his own agonizing actions. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the edges of her image. "I'm sorry," he choked out, the words heavy with guilt and regret. "I'm so, so sorry. I just couldn't let you suffer like that. It wouldn't have been you, not truly and to have you exist in constant agony... that would be no life for you. I had to do it." The tears flowed freely now, coursing paths of sorrow down his cheeks.
She stood directly before him now, her eyes softening and then, to his surprise, pulled him into a tender embrace. "I know John. But I don't blame you, not really. I will happily forgive you." Her voice was a balm, a deceptive comfort against his pain. "That said, please don't blame me for this and please, forgive me for what I'm about to do." Her smile, hidden as her head rested on his shoulder, became truly bloodthirsty. Her grip on the knife in her hand tightening as she raised it high, aiming for his back. But just as the blade began its descent her eyes widened in profound shock. The knife slipped from her fingers, dissolving into a wisp of mist as she stumbled backwards, a look of betrayal etched on her face.
"Thank you," John said, a warm, genuine smile gracing his lips. A profound sense of peace, unexpected and almost overwhelming, settled over him. He knew, with absolute certainty, that this wasn't the real Alice. Yet, this encounter, this simulated reunion, had brought him a strange, comforting closure. "And know that I think I was truly starting to love you."
The moment she had embraced him, John, despite his emotional turmoil, had acted with desperate clarity. He had seized the opportunity, pressing the smooth, crystalline gem directly against the centre of her chest, keeping it firmly pressed even as she recoiled.
"But... no! Why would you do this?" Her voice was laced with disbelief, distorting now, echoing as if from a vast, empty space. Her form began to flicker, shimmering between the image of Alice and a multitude of other faces, all translucent, all fading. The gem pressed against her pulsed, slowly turning a brilliant, vibrant blue. "Shouldn't you have been overwhelmed with emotion? With pain and guilt? You even allowed me so close, everything... why would you hurt me like this?"
"I was and still am overwhelmed," John admitted, his voice thick with a sorrow that transcended the illusion. "And I would have always allowed the real Alice close. You though are not her. Even if you fake it well, even if you helped me confront this pain, I know this isn't harming Alice. If anything, it's just trapping you, a monster using her face to try and hurt me into a gem. But even so, to the bit of Alice that might still exist in this shell of a form I want you to rest my dear and know one day, I will be with the real you again. But for now, I need to let go, I need to live for both of us, I was stupid to let your death break me so badly." His voice was a promise, a vow. With his injured arm, the one bound and movable only through his chains or with a lot of focus on the steel around it he pulled her back into a final tender hug, holding her close as she faded away, dissolving entirely into the glowing blue gem.
"You better," he heard a whisper faintly to the side causing his head to snap over, a voice that was both Alice and countless others overlapping. "I will be watching and hunting you down, be it death or other forces, they will not stop me from getting what I claim as mine." Then, he felt a light, almost imperceptible kiss on his lips. His eyes widening and for a final fleeting instant, he saw the real her, smiling serenely as her hand slipped into his, pressing the familiar red ribbon into his palm before vanishing completely but not before once more telling him that she would be coming back very soon to get back what's hers. The gem in his hand now pulsed with a steady, brilliant blue light, a beacon in the fading illusionary world with the ribbon sitting securely underneath.
The young woman still held by Braedon let out a guttural scream, her body convulsing violently as if wracked by an unseen torment. "Cut it now and get your ass over here!" Lesh roared, his voice cutting through the shifting reality. He grabbed John, pulling him roughly before slamming his staff down once more, this time embedding it deeply into the crimson-stained ground. A long, complex sequence of unknown words, ancient and powerful, flowed from his lips, weaving into existence shimmering lines of symbols in the air above and below them. These symbols began to rotate in opposing directions, forming a protective, swirling barrier.
Braedon, needing no second command, shoved the convulsing girl back into the now-brilliant blue crystal well severing the ethereal red thread connecting her to John with a swift swing of his hand before launching himself over to join them just as the world threatened to tear itself apart.
A few harrowing moments later, the entire world seemed to blink out of existence. They were plunged into a swirling void of indescribable colours, a chaotic maelstrom of raw reality. John only managed to glimpse the madness for a few terrifying seconds before the protective bubble, woven from Lesh's symbols, jolted violently. He gasped, choking and coughing as his lungs burned for air, the transition jarring and disorienting.
As his vision cleared, he noticed the familiar textures of the waking world around him. Saya was looking at him, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion but etched with deep concern. The others, who had been curled up against and on him, were now stirring, roused by his ragged coughs.
"Welcome back, John," Saya said softly, her voice weary. "I'm sorry if it was extreme, but I had to do it. Either that or try to cut—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes going wide as they fixed on John's hand. Gripped tightly in his palm was a blue gem on top of the vibrant red ribbon, the very same ribbon she clearly remembered Alice had.
A confused look was all John could offer Saya. The others, now fully awake and seeing he was unharmed, breathed collective sighs of relief, their initial worry easing.
"Thank you, Saya," John replied, his voice still hoarse but filled with a new resolve. "I know it wasn't easy, but I needed that. I still have a lot I need to work through, a lot of darkness to revisit, but for now, I feel like I can keep going forward again." He looked at the ribbon and the gem, a faint frown creasing his brow.
"But how did you..." Saya began again, her gaze still fixed on the red ribbon, a silent question in her voice.
"Maybe she isn't as gone as we all think? She even said she would be coming back but I don't know if that was just something to do with that place or even how to really take those words." John mused, looking from Saya to the mysterious items in his hand. "Honestly though? I really don't know either. But I have this and for now that's enough."