**Berlin, Nazi Germany - Evening**
The restaurant Ravina had chosen was one of those places that tried too hard to be upscale without quite succeeding. The lighting was dim in a way that was supposed to be atmospheric but just made it difficult to see your food properly. Soft music played from hidden speakers something classical and forgettable that blended into background noise. The tables were covered in white cloth that looked expensive but felt synthetic, and the chairs were designed more for appearance than comfort.
Ignis sat across from Ravina, his posture stiff and uncomfortable, like someone who'd never quite learned how to relax in public spaces. He stared down at his plate some kind of schnitzel with potatoes and vegetables arranged in patterns that suggested the chef cared more about presentation than substance. He'd barely touched it, pushing the food around with his fork in a way that suggested obligation rather than appetite.
Ravina, by contrast, had devoured her meal with enthusiastic efficiency. Her plate was nearly empty, just a few scattered remnants of what had been an elaborate pasta dish. She leaned back in her chair now, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding a wine glass she'd ordered despite the fact that she'd barely sipped from it. The glass was more prop than beverage something to hold while she talked, to gesture with for emphasis.
She'd been chattering almost nonstop since they'd sat down, filling the silence with observations about other diners, commentary on the restaurant's décor, plans for future videos, random thoughts that seemed to occur to her without any filtering process between brain and mouth. Ignis had mostly tuned her out, offering occasional monosyllabic responses when she paused long enough to require acknowledgment.
But now, as the meal wound down and the initial energy of eating faded, Ravina's restlessness became more obvious. She shifted in her chair, tapped her fingers against the table, swirled the wine in her glass without drinking it. Her eyes darted around the restaurant, looking for something anything
to capture her attention.
"Man, I'm so bored," she declared suddenly, her voice loud enough that several nearby diners glanced over with expressions ranging from annoyance to curiosity. "I want to go on a date!"
Ignis looked up from his untouched food, his expression flat. "You're on a date right now. Technically. We're eating together at a restaurant."
"This doesn't count!" Ravina protested, waving her hand dismissively. "This is work! Employee meal! Bonding between employer and cameraman! A real date needs romantic tension, flirtation, the possibility of something happening afterward—" She paused, her eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration. "Hey, Ignis! Want to go on a date with a hot and sexy woman like me?"
Ignis didn't even hesitate. "Absolutely not."
Ravina leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her smile widening. "Oh, come on! I'm so hot! I know you want to date me! I have very high standards, you understand I've dated so many men, rejected countless others. And yet here I am, asking YOU specifically for a date. Do you realize how special that is?"
She gestured at herself with both hands, indicating her appearance as if it were self-evident proof of her desirability. "This face! This body! This personality! Men would kill for the opportunity I'm offering you right now!"
Ignis set down his fork with deliberate precision, the metal clinking against the plate with a sound that somehow conveyed his complete lack of interest. Then he did something unexpected he really looked at her. Not the casual glances he'd been giving all evening, but a focused, analytical stare that took in every detail of her appearance with clinical attention.
Ravina felt her cheeks warming under that scrutiny, and to her surprise and irritation, she found herself blushing. Her confident smile faltered slightly. "Hey," she said, her voice losing some of its performative quality and becoming more genuinely flustered, "don't look at me like that."
Ignis picked up his coffee cup black, no sugar, the way he'd ordered it despite the waiter's suggestion that it might be too bitter and took a slow, deliberate sip. He set the cup down carefully, then met her eyes again with an expression of absolute seriousness.
"Can I say something?" he asked, his voice carrying weight that suggested whatever he was about to say would not be pleasant.
Ravina's blush deepened, and she found herself suddenly nervous in a way she rarely experienced. There was something in his tone, something in the way he was looking at her, that suggested this would not be the response she'd been hoping for. "Your choice," she managed, trying to maintain her confident facade even as uncertainty crept in.
Ignis's expression didn't change still flat, still serious, still completely devoid of any warmth or humor. When he spoke, his voice was calm and measured, delivering each word with devastating precision.
"You are absolute shit."
The words landed like physical blows. Ravina's smile vanished completely.
"I would rather be eaten by mosquitoes than date you," Ignis continued, his tone never varying from that same clinical detachment. "If we were the last two beings alive in the entire world, I would commit suicide in front of you just to avoid the possibility of having to spend time with you."
Ravina's mouth opened slightly, shock and something that might have been genuine hurt flashing across her face.
"If there was a room," Ignis went on relentlessly, "that contained the most annoying creatures in existence mosquitoes, flies, whatever else you want to imagine and also contained you, and I had to eliminate one group first, I would kill you before even considering the insects. You are more unbearable than literal bloodsucking parasites."
He picked up his coffee again, taking another sip before delivering his final assessment. "And if God exists which I doubt He would be ashamed to call you His creation. You are probably proof that even divine beings make mistakes they regret."
The restaurant had gone quiet. Nearby diners were staring now, no longer bothering to pretend they weren't listening to this absolutely brutal rejection.
Ravina sat frozen, her face cycling through expressions shock, hurt, embarrassment, anger before finally settling on a deep red flush that spread from her cheeks down her neck. She put her head down on the table, hiding her face in her arms, her voice muffled when she finally spoke.
"Enough, enough, I understand," she said, her usual confidence completely shattered. The words came out small and defeated, nothing like her normal boisterous tone.
"So," Ignis concluded, his voice still maddeningly calm, "I want to say that I reject you. Completely. Absolutely. Without reservation or regret."
Ravina lifted her head slightly, her face still flushed, her expression mixing embarrassment with growing anger. "Fuck you, man," she said, but there was no real heat in it just wounded pride trying to reassert itself through aggressive language.
"Same," Ignis replied with the same flat tone he'd maintained throughout the entire devastating monologue.
They sat in awkward silence for several long moments, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Other diners had returned to their meals, though several were still glancing over with expressions that suggested they were thoroughly entertained by the drama.
Finally, Ravina took a deep breath and seemed to physically shake off the embarrassment, forcing herself back into her usual energetic persona through sheer will. "Well then," she said, her voice still slightly off but getting closer to normal, "I'm bored. Want to see what we can find out there?"
Ignis looked at her with an expression that suggested he was questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. "Do I have a choice?"
"Not really!" Ravina replied, her smile returning though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She stood up from the table, signaling for the check.
A robot waiter glided over on nearly silent wheels, its synthetic face arranged in a pleasant but meaningless smile. It held out a payment terminal, and Ravina waved her hand over it, authorizing the transaction from her account. The robot's smile never wavered as it processed the payment.
"Thank you for dining with us," the robot said in its flat, programmed voice. "We hope you enjoyed your meal and will visit again soon."
"Sure, whatever," Ravina replied, already heading toward the exit.
Ignis stood and followed, leaving his barely-touched meal behind. As they walked away, the robot waiter began clearing their table with mechanical efficiency, stacking plates, wiping down surfaces, resetting everything for the next customers.
The restaurant manager a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a paunch that suggested he sampled too much of his own kitchen's output watched them leave from his position near the host stand. He smiled to himself, a knowing look on his face.
"What a cute couple," he murmured, shaking his head with amusement. Young love was always so dramatic, he thought. The fights, the tensions, the passionate rejections that probably meant they'd be together by the end of the week. He'd seen it countless times before.
The robot waiter returned to the manager's station, holding something small in its mechanical hand. "Sir, there is a doll. I think they left it behind."
The manager's expression softened even further. "Aww, how cute. These couples are always so forgetful." He reached out to take the doll, probably intending to set it aside in the lost and found, expecting the young woman to come back for her toy within a day or two.
Then he actually looked at what the robot was holding.
The Ghost pirate doll stared back at him with its single visible eye, its bandaged face somehow conveying malevolence despite being an inanimate object. The yellowed wrappings, the aged clothing, the white hair that looked disturbingly real all of it combined to create something deeply unsettling.
The manager's sentimental expression curdled immediately into disgust. "What the hell is this thing?" He held it at arm's length as if it might contaminate him through proximity. "Throw it in the trash. Immediately."
"Understood, sir," the robot replied, taking the doll back with the same mechanical indifference it showed toward everything.
As the robot moved toward the kitchen where the garbage bins were kept, the manager shuddered slightly. What kind of person carried around something that disturbing? Maybe they weren't such a cute couple after all. Maybe they were both deeply weird and deserved each other.
Outside, Ravina and Ignis walked through Berlin's evening streets. The flying trains continued their geometric patterns overhead, and streetlights created pools of illumination against the gathering darkness. The city never truly other robots continued their maintenance and security tasks, late-shift workers moved between buildings, the infrastructure of Nazi Germany's efficient society kept functioning regardless of the hour.
Ravina was talking again, her earlier embarrassment apparently forgotten or at least buried beneath her relentless energy. "Where can we go? Where can we go?" She repeated the question as if hoping that saying it twice would somehow generate an answer. "I'm bored with restaurants. Bored with Berlin. Need something new, something exciting, something—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her entire body going still. Her head tilted slightly, like a dog hearing a frequency beyond human range.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice suddenly focused and intense.
Ignis looked at her, confused. "Hear what?"
Ravina didn't answer. Her eyes had gone distant, focused on something internal or perhaps something very far away. Then, without warning, she took off running.
Not a casual jog or a brisk walk a full sprint, her body moving with that enhanced speed that marked her as Blessed. She covered the length of the street in seconds, turned a corner without slowing, and kept going.
"What the—" Ignis started, then cursed and ran after her.
He pushed his own Blessed abilities, flames unconsciously flickering around his feet as he accelerated, trying to keep up with Ravina's inhuman pace. His mind raced with questions. *What is she hearing that I'm not? Is this some kind of Blessed sense I don't have? Or is she just crazy and running toward nothing?*
They ran for what felt like miles but was probably only a few blocks, moving so fast that normal pedestrians barely registered their passage just blurs of motion that their brains couldn't quite process. The buildings around them changed as they moved, the clean efficiency of central Berlin giving way to older architecture, less maintained streets, areas where the Nazi regime's obsessive order didn't quite reach.
Then they crossed an invisible boundary no physical marker, no checkpoint, just a subtle shift in atmosphere and they were no longer in Berlin proper.
They were in a village.
Or what remained of one.
The buildings here were older, smaller, arranged in the traditional German village style that predated the regime's modernization efforts. But something was profoundly wrong with the place. The streets were empty not just quiet, but abandoned in a way that suggested sudden departure rather than gradual decline. Windows were dark. Doors hung open. Personal belongings were scattered across the ground as if people had dropped them mid-flight.
And there were robots. Or pieces of robots. Scattered across the streets like mechanical corpses limbs torn off, torsos crushed, heads separated from bodies. Their synthetic skin was torn, exposing the metal and circuitry beneath. Some were still twitching, their damaged systems trying and failing to reboot.
Ignis slowed, taking in the scene with growing unease. "What happened here?"
Ravina didn't answer. She was scanning the area with focused intensity, her head moving in small, precise motions as if tracking something. Then she smiled not her usual manic grin, but something sharper, more predatory.
"Follow me," she said simply, and started walking toward a specific building.
Ignis fell into step behind her, his hands unconsciously heating up, small flames dancing across his palms. Whatever they were walking into, it felt dangerous. The kind of dangerous that required being ready to kill.
The building Ravina approached was a small house, single-story, with faded blue paint and a roof that needed repairs. Nothing about it stood out from the other structures except that Ravina had chosen it specifically. She walked to the front door which stood slightly ajar and pushed it open with casual confidence.
Inside, the scene that greeted them was straight out of a horror film.
The main room had been converted into a makeshift slaughterhouse. The furniture had been pushed to the walls, creating an open space in the center. Plastic sheeting covered the floor, slick with blood. Various tools were laid out on a table knives, saws, cleavers, all showing signs of recent use.
And in the center of the room, a young woman stood over an elderly person strapped to a chair.
The killer was maybe thirty, with dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and wearing a butcher's apron that was absolutely soaked in blood. Her face showed no particular emotion not pleasure or disgust or anything human. Just the blank focus of someone performing a familiar task.
The elderly victim impossible to tell if they were male or female, their features obscured by trauma and terror was still alive but barely. Their body showed signs of systematic mutilation, pieces removed with surgical precision. They were conscious, eyes wide with agony, mouth open in a silent scream.
When the killer noticed Ravina and Ignis enter, she paused, knife still raised. Her expression shifted slightly annoyance at being interrupted, calculation about whether these new arrivals represented threat or opportunity.
The victim saw them too, and hope blazed in their pain-dulled eyes. Their mouth worked, trying to form words, trying to beg for rescue. Tears streamed down their ruined face, and they strained against the restraints with what little strength remained.
Ignis felt rage ignite in his chest. His hands burst into full flame, the fire responding to his emotional state. He shifted his weight, preparing to attack, to burn this killer until nothing remained but ash and the memory of ash.
Then Ravina spoke, her voice bright and cheerful.
"Action!"
Ignis moved forward, flames trailing from his hands, ready to—
"And camera on!"
He stopped. Actually stopped mid-charge, his momentum killing so abruptly that he nearly stumbled. His flames flickered and died as confusion replaced fury.
"Camera?" he repeated, the word not making sense in context.
"Yes, camera!" Ravina pulled out her recording drone the floating sphere that served as her portable production equipment. She activated it with a gesture, and its lens extended, focusing on the scene before them. "We're going to record this! This is amazing content!"
The victim paused in their desperate struggles, their pain-fogged mind trying to process what they were hearing. The killer also froze, her knife still raised, her expression shifting to complete bewilderment.
"Uhh, what?" the killer managed, her voice carrying genuine confusion that cut through her previous blank focus.
Ravina turned to her with a bright smile, as if they were meeting at a social function rather than a murder scene. "You continue! Please, don't mind us. We're just here to document. Keep doing exactly what you were doing. I'm going to record it this will give us amazing views! The authenticity, the raw emotion, the visceral horror audiences love this stuff!"
Ignis stood frozen, multiple emotions warring in his expression. Shock at Ravina's complete disregard for the victim's suffering. Disgust at the casual way she treated murder as content. And, despite himself, a twisted sort of amusement at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
He said nothing. Just turned on the camera as instructed, his face carefully neutral.
The victim's hope shattered visibly, their expression collapsing into despair as they realized these new arrivals weren't rescuers at all. They slumped in the chair, whatever fight remained in them dying along with their last chance at survival.
The killer looked between Ravina, Ignis, and her victim, her mind clearly struggling to categorize this bizarre situation. "Uhh, okay," she finally said, because what else was there to say? She'd been interrupted by two strangers who wanted to film her committing murder rather than stop her. The world had officially stopped making sense.
She returned her attention to the victim and resumed her work. The knife descended, cutting with practiced precision. Blood flowed. The victim's silent scream found voice, a sound of pure agony that echoed through the small house.
The killer moved methodically, working through what appeared to be a predetermined sequence. Each cut was deliberate, chosen to maximize suffering while preventing immediate death. This wasn't passionate violence or sudden rage this was planned, systematic, almost clinical.
She moved to the next victim Ignis realized with growing horror that there were others in the room, restrained in various ways, at different stages of the killer's process. She selected an elderly man, strapped to a different chair, and began preparing him.
One by one, she worked through her captives. The sounds were horrific screams, begging, the wet sounds of metal cutting flesh, the various biological responses to extreme trauma. The small house filled with the smell of blood and worse.
Neither Ravina nor Ignis showed any visible reaction. Ravina watched with professional interest, occasionally gesturing to Ignis to adjust the camera angle to capture particular details. Ignis held the recording drone steady, his face carefully blank, not letting himself feel anything about what he was documenting.
Before the killer reached the last victim
another elderly person, this one male with wispy white hair and trembling hands the man spoke. His voice was surprisingly strong given his obvious terror, cutting through the nightmare with desperate clarity.
"Hey, please! Save me!" He wasn't looking at the killer but at Ravina and Ignis, his eyes pleading. "I have something important to say! Information! Something valuable!"
Ravina's expression shifted slightly, interest replacing her professional documentation mode. But her tone was skeptical. "Everyone says they have important information when they're about to die. Usually it's garbage
lottery numbers, hidden money, meaningless secrets. Why should I believe you?"
The old man's eyes were wide, sweat streaming down his face. He was clearly terrified, but beneath the fear was something else genuine urgency, as if he really did know something significant. "I know about a supernatural power," he gasped, his words tumbling over each other in their haste. "Something called Blessed!"
Both Ravina and Ignis paused. The casual indifference they'd been maintaining cracked slightly, their attention suddenly fully focused on the old man.
The killer noticed the shift in atmosphere and frowned, her knife pausing mid-motion. "What are you talking about, old hag?" she demanded, annoyance clear in her voice. She took a step toward the old man, raising her knife. "I'm going to kill you for interrupting my work—"
Flames erupted across the room in a controlled burst.
Ignis's fire was precise and devastating. It engulfed the killer completely, the temperature so intense that her skin began to blacken immediately. She had time for one brief scream before the flames seared her lungs, cutting off sound. Within seconds, she collapsed, her body burning with the smell of cooking meat filling the small house.
The old man watched with wide eyes as his would-be killer was reduced to a charred corpse. His breath came in gasping sobs
relief, shock, terror at how close he'd come to the same fate.
Ravina smiled and gave Ignis an approving nod. "Well done! You did a good job, Ignis. Perfect timing, excellent execution. See? You're learning the content creation business already!"
She walked over to the old man, kneeling beside his chair with the kind of friendly, conversational manner someone might use at a coffee shop. "Well, Grandpa, we saved you! Now tell us what do you know about the Blessed?"
The old man looked at them, his expression mixing gratitude with growing uncertainty. These people had just saved his life, yes, but they'd also watched him and others be tortured for content. He wasn't sure if he'd been rescued or just acquired by different monsters.
"Do you know about Valenora?" he asked, his voice gaining slight strength now that the immediate threat was gone.
Both Ravina and Ignis exchanged glances. "No," Ravina admitted. "What is it?"
"Are you Blessed?" the old man asked, studying them more carefully now.
"Yes," they answered in unison.
"How?" The old man's eyes widened further. "How did you receive such power?"
Ravina's expression hardened, her friendly demeanor cracking to reveal something colder beneath. "It doesn't matter how we got it. Just tell us what you know. Now."
The threat in her voice was unmistakable, and the old man flinched. With trembling voice and gasping breaths, he began to speak.
"In the Netherlands, there's a place called Valenora. It's known as the Flower's Home. That's what people call it, anyway those few who know it exists." He paused, catching his breath, his eyes darting between his saviors as if checking their reactions. "You'll find many things there. Interesting things. More than just... more than just murder and horror. Things that challenge understanding. Things that change people."
His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I've heard stories. People who went there came back different. Some didn't come back at all. And some came back broken, their minds shattered by what they saw or experienced."
Ravina's eyes lit up with interest, a predatory gleam that suggested she'd found new prey. She licked her lips slowly, unconsciously, like a lioness that had just spotted a herd of deer. "Well then," she said, her voice carrying satisfaction and anticipation in equal measure. "I'm impressed. So it's in the Netherlands? That's all you know?"
"Y-yes," the old man stammered. "That's everything. That's all I've heard. Please, thank you for saving me. I—"
"You can go," Ravina interrupted casually. Then, after a brief pause, she added with a smile: "And you can die."
The old man froze, his relief transforming instantly back into terror. "What?"
"You die," Ravina repeated, her tone cheerful as if discussing the weather.
"No! Hey!" The old man's voice rose to a panicked shout. "I don't want to die! Please! You said you saved me! You can't—"
"You have to die," Ravina said simply, shrugging as if it were inevitable.
The old man's composure shattered completely. He cried like a child, tears and snot streaming down his face. His body shook with sobs, and a dark stain spread across his pants as he lost control of his bladder. The dignity he'd tried to maintain throughout his captivity vanished entirely, leaving only primal terror.
Both Ravina and Ignis watched this display with obvious amusement. They glanced at each other, then both started laughall
genuine, full laughter that filled the small house and mixed grotesquely with the old man's sobbing.
"We're just joking!" Ravina finally managed between laughs, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh my god, your face! You can go, you can go. We're not going to kill you."
The old man's crying stopped abruptly, confusion replacing terror. "What?"
"You're free," Ignis confirmed, his own laughter subsiding. "Get out of here before we change our minds."
The old man looked between them, unable to believe what he was hearing. When neither of them moved to stop him, when no flames appeared and no weapons were drawn, he finally understood it was real. He scrambled to free himself from the remaining restraints, his hands shaking so badly he could barely manage the buckles.
"Fuck you," he spat once he was free, his voice mixing relief with fury at being toyed with. "Fuck both of you."
He ran from the house without looking back, stumbling over the charred corpse of his former captor, disappearing into the abandoned village.
Ravina watched him go, her smile never fading. Then she turned to Ignis, her expression shifting into something more focused, more dangerous.
"More interesting things, huh?" she said, her voice carrying the kind of excitement that suggested she'd found a new obsession. "Netherlands. Valenora. Flower's Home. I'm coming for you."
Her smile widened, transforming into something predatory and terrifying. She looked like a lioness that had just spotted not just one deer, but an entire herd abundant prey, endless entertainment, opportunity upon opportunity for exactly the kind of content she craved.
Ignis watched her expression and felt a chill run down his spine despite his fire powers. Whatever they were walking into, whatever this Valenora place was, he had the distinct feeling it would make everything they'd experienced so far look tame by comparison.
"Are we really going to the Netherlands?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Of course!" Ravina declared, her energy returning tenfold. "This is exactly what I needed! New location, mysterious powers, interesting creatures or whatever we find there. The content practically writes itself!"
She pulled out her phone and began researching immediately, her fingers flying across the screen. "Netherlands, Netherlands... Oh, this is perfect! There's been reports of strange red rain there recently. Weird weather patterns, increased security, military presence. Something big is happening, and we're going to be right in the middle of it!"
Ignis looked around the small house one more time the charred killer, the plastic sheeting soaked with blood, the various torture implements scattered around. They'd walked into a horror scene, documented it for content, and now they were leaving to pursue something even more dangerous based on the terrified ramblings of an old man they'd psychologically tortured for fun.
"We're going to die there," he said flatly.
"Probably!" Ravina agreed cheerfully. "But think of the views we'll get before that happens!"
She headed for the door, already planning their trip. "We'll need to pack, arrange transport, maybe get some better equipment. The Netherlands is under Nazi control too, but it's peripheral territory easier to enter than trying to go through Berlin's main checkpoints. We can probably fly commercial if we use fake IDs, or maybe hire a smuggler if we need something more discreet."
Ignis followed her out of the house, leaving the nightmare behind them. As they walked back through the abandoned village toward Berlin proper, he thought about everything he'd learned today.
He was now the cameraman for a psychopathic content creator who documented murders for entertainment. They were heading toward some mysterious location in the Netherlands called Valenora, where apparently supernatural phenomena occurred and people went to gain or lose powers. They'd be entering territory controlled by Nazi Germany, where security was heightened and strangers were viewed with suspicion.
And somehow, despite all of this, despite knowing it was probably suicidal, Ignis found himself curious.
What was Valenora? What would they find there? And would whatever power or knowledge or horror waited in the Flower's Home be worth the journey?
He looked at Ravina, who was still excitedly planning their trip, her earlier embarrassment about the rejected date proposal completely forgotten.
"You're insane," he said.
"I know!" she replied happily. "Isn't it great?"
They disappeared into the Berlin night, two Blessed individuals heading toward the Netherlands and whatever awaited them in Valenora, leaving behind an abandoned village full of bodies and mysteries no one would ever solve.