I don't own anything but the idea for this story. All characters belong to their respectful owners. Enjoy!
"Dankatsu no daichi kuzure satta moro i kibo awai mirai. Atarimae no yo ni ashita ga mata otozureru to shinjite ita…" ~IMAGINARY LIKE THE JUSTICE by Nanahoshi Orchestra
("The split earth crumbled away like bitter dreams and a weak future. I believed that tomorrow would come, like it always would…")
There have been tales circulating around about the Himuro Mansion located just outside of Fuyuki, enshrouded not only by mystery but by the woods surrounding it. This same house was scheduled to be demolished twice; both times the workers were found weeks later in grotesque shape, innards used to hang themselves on the front gate as a warning. Any further plans for demolition were quickly wiped off the table and left, companies not willing to risk incurring any resident spirit's wrath. More deaths than ever recorded had occurred beforehand; investigators, wanderers, children, and explorers all lost their lives in the area. Some say that a brutal murder on an unspeakable scale occurred there; others say that the family ordered their servants to commit seppuku and hung themselves in the end. The rumors are mainly about the spirits seen haunting the corridors of the mansion, unable to move on due to the unspeakable sins committed in the aging building. Overtime, however, the tales and rumors about the Himuro Mansion have diminished into mere fairytales, used for warning children to never enter an unknown or abandoned house.
The people forgot to fear the supernatural.
However, there are still people out there enamored by these strange stories, looking for some excitement in their lives-a sense of danger to feed their addicted nerves. Students had regularly dared each other to step foot into the house to show their bravery. They were then given a reason to stop their foolish dares; the house had made it on TV when it was reported that a man named Emiya Shirou went missing in a close vicinity to the mansion. His family members and friends were all in shock as they waited for their loved one to return; he never did.
No one has found his body to this very day...
35 Years Later-Present Day
"..-cer! Lancer! SETANTA!" A blue-haired male jolts awake, blinking his crimson orbs sleepily up at a woman who stood over him. She sighs as she adjusts her glasses, watching him as he sits up with some difficulty.
"Why are you saying my name, Medusa…?" He mutters sleepily, strands of hair sticking up to portray his bedhead. The woman gives him a sharp look, to which he answers with a toothy grin.
"It's Maddie or Rider, Lancer." The man, dubbed Lancer apparently, hops out of bed next to her and stretches.
"It's only fair since you said my name…" Rider scoffs but stays quiet for a bit, knowing that he's right.
"I don't know why you hate it; it refers to the Child of Light in Ireland." Lancer scrunches up his nose at the thought.
"Then just call me Cu; there's no one in history called that. Actually, no; Lancer has a better ring to it." The woman, Rider, shakes her head in exasperation before speaking.
"I just woke you up because I had made breakfast-" Lancer is off like a lightning bolt, eating half of the bacon and an impressive amount of scrambled eggs by the time Rider walks downstairs. She shakes her head once more at the scene before grabbing her own plate and digging in.
"You can always set aside a plate for me, you know. Oh, make sure to save some for Gil." Lancer stops midchew to process her words, his fork dropping to his plate.
"Do I have to…?" He complains after swallowing, grinning sheepishly at Rider's stern gaze.
"I don't know, Lancer; do you want to deal with an angry Gil at 5 am?" Lancer flinches at the thought, remembering the times when the blonde had swung a baseball bat down on his head, made him go to the zoo at 3 in the morning to "go and entertain" the lions in the dens, almost suffocated him with stuffed animals, and chased him around their house, dousing him in kerosene with a lighter in hand as he tried to set him on fire. (He doesn't know where the other male had gotten the lighter from; it had just...appeared in his hands, it seemed.)
"...I'll take that as a no." Rider states as Lancer nods his head furtively. They pause as they hear someone stumble into the dining room.
"...You made breakfast, Rider…?" Gilgamesh murmurs, rubbing his eyes as he sits down. Like Lancer (only after a tiring day of work as a photographer, however), Gil is not a morning person in the slightest. However, Rider had mentioned to Lancer at one point that a tired and sleepy Gil is the best Gil to be seen as well as the best one for their minds, hearts, and souls to handle. Since this was Lancer's first day off with them as his roommates, this is his first encounter with this side of Gilgamesh and finds himself agreeing with Rider.
At least he isn't biting anyone's head off...what a relief. Actually, he's like a little kid; full of energy ¾ of the time and becoming super tired once he uses it all...
...not that I'll say it to his face.
"Yes; we saved some for you." Rider replies, handing him a plate. He mutters a thank you and eats quietly, trying to wake himself up even further. Lancer gets an idea and stands up, Rider looking at him in question. The look on her face read You're about to do something you'll regret later, aren't you judging by the way her eyelids close halfway and her mouth forms an almost straight, thin line. Lancer shrugs, mouthing What have I got to lose as he clears his throat.
"Hey, Gil." A soft and tired hum comes from the blonde, the man looking up at Lancer's crimson orbs with his own ruby ones.
"I'm gonna make cinnamon rolls." Gil blinks once, twice, before springing to life, Rider stifling her chuckles behind her hand as he shoots up in his seat and slams his fists down onto the table.
"Well what are you waiting for, dog?!" He demands excitedly, ignoring Lancer's deadpan at his nickname for him, "Make those delectable treats at once!" Lancer shivers at the thought of dying if he chooses to refuse the man his sweets so he gets to work.
"Do you need any help?" Rider asks him ten minutes later, Gil drying the last of the dishes she had handed to him. Lancer grins at her offer, nodding as he stirs the sugar, beaten eggs, and oil with the yeast and warm water. He had put on a blue apron in case he spills anything onto his cherished clothes, hair tied back in his usual style with four cobalt strands hanging down in front of his face.
"Yeah, actually. The cinnamon rolls are gonna be giant, so that means more work for me; it'd go by faster if I had someone to help me out." Rider puts on her own apron and smiles, grabbing the flour and pouring it into the mix. Lancer opens his mouth to tell her to stop at the right amount when Gil pops up in between them, stern gaze pointed at Lancer.
"How dare you not request permission from your king?" Lancer sweatdrops, about to say No Gil, you're not our king nor are you anyone's when the blonde interrupts him once again.
"You are lucky that this time I will tolerate your impudence. I am to make the icing at once, correct?" Gil moves off to grab another bowl, pouring in confectioners sugar and vanilla extract with great efficiency.
He's...pretty good. I guess he won't be that much of a nuisance in the kitchen...having him as my roommate in college was bad enough. The trio had first met in high school and went off to college together, Lancer being unlucky enough (he swears that his luck is Rank E or something) to have the pleasure of sharing a small, confined space with Gilgamesh (Rider got a room all to herself, that sly, persuasive woman). Admittedly, while the two argued half of their years away in college, Lancer viewed Gil as a precious comrade, a brother-in-arms against the evils of writing 5 essays in one night. During their time together he's come to know when Gil was (subconsciously) joking with his threats and when to not aggravate him during his less...pleasant days.
"...Right," He says with a grin on his face before his phone buzzes repeatedly in his pocket.
A call? Strange...
He rinses his hands off and instructs Rider to take over, walking out of the room to take the call.
"Setanta Chulainn speaking."
"...Cu?" His younger brother says hesitantly on the other end. Lancer lets out a sigh of relief, not one for being formal for so long.
"Diarmuid, hey! How's it goin-"
"A-Are you really you? You're not messing with me? The reception here's bad, but-" Lancer hears shuffling in the background and his brother inhales sharply. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry, all signs of relaxation gone.
"What do you mean, Little Bro? Where are you?" He asks, feeling dread begin to form in the pit of his stomach. His brother goes silent for a few seconds before he shudders out his breath.
"In Himuro Mansion. I was sent there by Arturia to take a few pictures of the interior, but it's so dark and the door locked behind me-"
"You're there?" Lancer's heard of the horror stories himself but thought that Arturia, his employer and fellow friend (nicknamed Saber), was going to give that job to him tomorrow.
"Yeah, I'm-" He stops abruptly, and Lancer hears some rustling. "It's here; I can't stay in this spot for long." Lancer knew what that phrase meant; one of the few protocols they made together when they lived on their own.
"When can we meet up?" He responds immediately, and Diarmuid sighs in relief.
"It is you...this thing's been messing with my phone, having me dial your number and having "you" pick up when it wasn't really you…" He pauses for a moment, as if he's listening for something, and speaks.
"Once you head into the mansion, take a right and follow the corridor down. Then, take a left at the intersection and I'll be in the third door on your left." He's speaking rapidly now, and Lancer can hear a low growl that wasn't from either of them.
"Oh, god, it's here-" The line cuts and goes to static. Lancer grips his phone tightly before shoving it into his pocket, running past the kitchen upstairs. He changes into a white t-shirt and blue jeans, grabbing his black jacket and flying down the stairs in a hurry.
"Lancer?" Rider asks as the blue-haired man adjusts his ponytail to make sure it's secure. Once crimson orbs meet lavender Rider nods.
"Go; we'll finish the cinnamon rolls while you're gone." Gil peeks his head around the corner and scowls.
"If you're not back by 7pm I'll come and kick your ass myself, you mongrel." Lancer grins, waving as he puts on his black combat boots in haste, making sure that he has his phone on him.
"I'll hold you to it, Gil. I'll call if anything comes up!" He shuts the door behind him and runs towards his cherished red skateboard he named Gae Bolg, putting it wheels first on the ground and shooting like a bullet down the sidewalk.
"Well then," Rider starts as she passes by Gilgamesh towards the kitchen, "Let's finish these for Lancer so we can tell him how good out baking has gotten, okay?" Gilgamesh is not too far behind her, already proclaiming that his baking skills "Far surpasses those of the dog's" while waving a wooden spoon around, looking less like a threat and more like Sella during her rants to Leysritt. Rider can merely sigh with a smile on her face as the two get to work.
It takes half an hour for Lancer to reach the mansion surrounded by trees and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He bristles, getting off of his beloved skateboard and pushing open the front gates open. The metal groans in protest before giving away, permitting him entry. Picking up his board he rushes through, leaning it against the wall of the house before walking up the steps. His sixth sense tells him to turn back, to run before it's too late, but he merely grits his teeth and forces the door to open. What hits him is the damp, heavy atmosphere as well as the lighting, suffocating and dark to the point of making him rethink his decision of coming alone.
I'm no pansy; I came here to save my brother and I'll do it! He looks around the room without stepping foot inside, hair falling over his shoulder as he scans from left to right in search of an object that can prop the door open. He then spots it: A cement block laying innocently on the floor...7 feet away from the door.
Now, Lancer isn't that tall and can't reach the item without stepping inside. Well, shit. For some reason, he feels that once he steps foot inside he'll never make it back out alive.
...Just for a few seconds, right? Yeah. He then sprints for the item, picking it up and turning around when the doors slam shut and click into place; locked.
"I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but come on!" He mutters under his breath before groping his way through the darkness, hands splayed out in front on him. Something clatters to the ground in front of him and he jumps, freezing in place for a moment before kneeling to the ground to grasp it.
It felt smooth, yet rough. New, yet old. His fingers travel over the surface of the object to feel cool glass. A camera? Now you don't see that everyday. He wonders silently, marvelling at how it's managed to wind up here of all places. Feels like a Polaroid. Wait, doesn't it have night vision…? He turns it on to find a roll of film already in place. The name of the camera was etched onto the side of the device and runs his fingers over the letters, trying to map them out in his mind.
"Camera...Obscura?" Lancer finally says in surprise, standing up and grasping it. He found that it has a neck strap, which could come in handy someday (As in now, he muses to himself with a chuckle). Putting it over his head the device settles right over his heart, the coolness of the metal seeping through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. He turns on his phone to check the battery; 95%. Good thing I had it charged, huh… He keeps it on, the dim light illuminating the space that was four feet in front of him.
I should keep it on low; I have a hunch that I'll be here for a while and I want to conserve as much energy as I can. He holds it out in front of him, looking left and right as he tries to locate the corridor his brother was talking about. Was it left or right…? As he contemplates his next move he bumps into something.
"Ah-" He then pauses and looks up to see a man with his back turned to him, unmoving for a second. Lancer's mind goes blank as he tries to process how the man got in front of him, instead coming up with a question accompanied by a terrifying answer.
...I thought it was just Diarmuid and I in here, so how did he get in when the door is…? Lancer stumbles backwards, watching as the man slowly turns to him. Instead of seeing pitch black orbs or just no eyes at all (He really should stop watching so many horror movies with Gilgamesh) he's met with steel orbs that bore into his crimson ones.
"My bad," Lancer chuckles nervously as the man stays silent. "I, uh, didn't see you there. Pleasedon'tkillme." The man blinks, eyebrow arching as a slight smirk appears on his face.
"So, you can see me?"
"Eh?" Lancer watches as the man stares at the camera residing just over his heart. His expression darkens as he rests his gaze on the object, turning to stare at the wall after his examination.
"So you've chosen someone else, huh…" He mutters quietly, and Lancer speaks up to grab his attention.
"What do you mean "you've chosen someone else"? Actually, what the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!" Lancer says and fums as the man gives him yet another smirk in response.
"You'll learn soon enough. You're looking for your brother, I presume?" Lancer eyes him suspiciously.
"...How do you know about…?"
"I can be of some assistance." He merely replies as he starts to go down the corridor on the right. He pauses and turns back towards Lancer, tilting his head to urge him to move. The blue-haired male can only sigh as he follows him, unaware of what stalked him and his unlikely companion as they searched for Diarmuid.
"This place...doesn't feel right." Lancer states as they walk, "And it's not because of all the rumors about it."
"Hoh?" The mystery man cocks an eyebrow, walking past a mirror at the end of the hallway. Lancer's dim light on his phone doesn't extend far enough to see what the man's reflection looked like but caught a glimpse of his own bewildered red orbs staring back at him. He stops in front of the mirror and runs his hand over it, his lack of footsteps causing the stranger to stop as well and to walk back towards him.
"No house should feel this way," Lancer says quietly, not wanting to pull his hand away from the smooth glass.
"Indeed." Was the only reply he receives from the stranger as he looks around him. He then tenses as shuffling could be heard.
"Something's coming; be on your guard." He says, and Lancer's eyes widen as he sees a misshapen figure appears at the opposite end of the corridor through the mirror. He whirls around to see ropes hanging down from the ceiling, some of them occupied with bodies swaying to and fro. When did-
"What-" The man pulls Lancer aside and into a room, where he shuts the door.
"If we're lucky it hasn't seen us." Lancer looks up at him and sighs.
"What is it, exactly?" The man pauses before speaking.
"What was once a human but has sold it's soul to the devil, drowning in madness as it lost all sense of right and wrong. A bona fide demon, per say." Lancer hums in thought, wishing that he had a weapon on him even when he knew that it would be practically useless against an entity.
"Two questions. How do we stop that thing?" He doesn't know if the man would know about spirits, especially the ones residing in Himuro Mansion, so he's surprised when he gets an immediate response.
"You have that camera on you, correct? It's...special, in that once you take a picture of the ghost it will suffice as much as if you had used a gun on a human." The disdain in the man's voice made him pause for a second and wonder what the camera had done to him before focusing on the current threat. I just have to take pictures? Seems easy enough. Lancer can hear the footsteps grow louder and quickly asks his next question.
"What's your name?"
The stranger pauses, as if hesitant to tell him. "...I have no recollection of my past life, so I have no name to provide you with."
"...Hmm…" Lancer thinks for a second, trying to come up with a nickname. If my friends are Rider, Gil, Assassin ("You shall not pass," The purple haired man jokingly told him when they first met outside of Saber's Agency), Saber, and Berserker while I'm Lancer, then…
"Archer." He says with finality, and the stranger's head perks up. He then closes his eyes and bows to Lancer, which takes him by surprise.
"As you wish." At that moment the footsteps stop, and all is silent. Five seconds drag on, feeling close to an eternity for Lancer as the silence becomes suffocating. He starts wondering about Diarmuid and how he felt as he was chased by this...this behemoth. The thought of his little brother's terrified face as he tries to survive in this place all alone makes him growl and arm the camera (to Archer's amusement). At that moment, the shuffling ceases from the other side of the door, making Lancer's heart rate skyrocket as his expression morphs into one of uneasiness. Archer's stony facial expression doesn't help calm his nerves but the fact that the man is still here with him is...comforting, to say the least. Lancer takes in a few, deep breaths, sending Archer a look as he slowly grasps the door handle, finger over the button that will, supposedly, defeat this demon in his other hand. Archer's eyebrow raises a fraction but lowers just as quickly as it had risen once he sees Lancer's tense figure, nodding to show his comprehension. In a flash, Lancer opens the door and whips the camera out from his side to take a picture, the flash and an inhumane howl of pain being his only reward for his actions.
"Look out!" A hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him backwards as claws pass mere inches from his face in a downward arc, the offending appendages appearing to fade into the floor yet the force of the attack seeming very real in Lancer's opinion.
"Thanks," Lancer breathes out as he stands up once more. "Didn't expect that to happen."
"Focus on surviving for now," Came Archer's flat tone as he dives through the opening and into the hallway. Lancer follows suit, flashing the demon with the camera once more and using the distraction to run after Archer, who was in front of a door further down the hallway. The blue-haired man quickly catches up to him, looking back the way he came from.
"That thing will come over here in a couple of seconds if not a minute, hopefully." Archer runs his hand over the surface of the door before nodding to himself, grasping the handle.
"That is the keyword indeed." The door opens with an audible click and the two walk inside, Lancer trying to make as minimal noise as possible while Archer seemed to be a natural at being quiet.
"Diarmuid?" Lancer whispers into the darkness, straining his eyes as they try to discern any signs of his little brother. Archer hovers by the doorway, acting as a lookout in case the demonic entity makes it's presence known once more.
"...Cu?" A hesitant voice answers him and he breathes a sigh of relief as Diarmuid takes a step into his view.
"Diarmuid!" Lancer pulls him into a hug, the camera making it uncomfortable to do so. His brother smiles before looking over his shoulder to see Archer at the door.
"Who…?" Lancer grins awkwardly as Archer's eyes flit over to them for a second, hearing his name before looking out the door with an indifferent look on his face.
"His name's Archer; well, I call him that at least. He can't remember his own name." Diarmuid looks back at Archer before nodding, his gaze going to the camera instead.
"Did you buy a new camera before heading out? What, you wanted to take some photographs too?" Diarmuid jokes to lighten his brother's tension, however still curious about the device. Lancer's grin turns sheepish when he finally replies.
"...I...found it here. It was on the floor, and I picked it up." Diarmuid gives him a blank stare of disbelief before replying in a stunned tone.
"...Cu, I knew you were an idiot but I didn't think you were this much of an idiot."
"Hey!" Lancer protests quietly, still aware of their predicament. However, Archer's snort of amusement was not helping at all. "Why are you laughing, Archer?!"
"Because your brother confirmed my suspicions of you being an idiot."
"If we make it out of here in one piece I will strangle you," Lancer says as Diarmuid laughs at him, "Demons or no." Archer's face almost looked apologetic for a second, which confuses the two brothers.
"What is it?" The younger of the two asks, concerned for the man. They were in this mess together, and in order to get out of it they would need to have no secrets between them.
"I cannot leave this place."
"WHAT?!" After a smoldering glare from Archer, which tells him to shut up, Lancer lowers his voice. "Why not?" He harshly whispers, appalling himself; he doesn't really take to people that fast, except Taiga of course.
"I am...bound here, in a manner of speaking. I wish for you two to not get involved." A scowl stretches across the white-haired man's face as he speaks. "I have a mission to complete. A duty, if you will."
"With a demon running amok here?" Diarmuid also lowers his voice to a whisper, golden pools staring at Archer with worry. To be honest Lancer felt the same way, even if the man was a stranger; highly stressful and terrifying experiences tend to bring people together.
"Precisely. I am protected from it, however ironic that may be." A wry smile makes it's way onto his facial features as he stares at the door. "I will aid you in your escape; in turn, may I ask what it is that brought you two here?"
"We're photographers," Diarmuid says in a rush as uneven footsteps drew closer to their location. "Arturia sent me here to get pictures of the interior-"
"Which should have been my job-" Lancer butts in, earning a halfhearted glare from his brother.
"-and that...thing attacked me. We plan on doing a cover for the journalist agency we're collaborating with concerning this mansion."
"Abandon that immediately." Archer says forcefully, surprising the two. "It's not safe here."
"No shit, Sherlock!" Lancer shouted at the same time the door blew off of it's hinges, knocking Archer back onto the floor where the brothers heard a sickening crack. He sat there, dazed, his head pounding after it had struck the concrete floor. Once the demon enters the room, Lancer finally gets a good look at it. Black hair obscures it's face, hanging limp while swaying to and fro as the apparition walks unsteadily. Even if the hair was out of the way, Lancer was sure that he wouldn't be able to see it's face anyways (nor would he want to) since it's twisted, gnarled hands covered it's features with a sob. The clothing it wears is tattered, having definitely seen better days. It's cries were inhumane but it resonates something within him: pity.
He pitied this spirit, who wouldn't pass over peacefully.
At the same time, it hurt Archer. It tried to hurt Diarmuid.
And that is unacceptable.
"Dia, get Archer out of here." Lancer growls as he turns on the camera, much to his brother's confusion; however, the black-haired male nods as he helps Archer stand, waiting for an opening. The demon lurches closer, reaching one hand out for Diarmuid when Lancer takes a picture. It howls in pain, turning it's attention towards the blue-haired male who grins.
"That's right, I'm your opponent. This way!" Diarmuid wastes no time in exiting the room, Archer giving (albeit slurred) instructions towards the entrance. Lancer sighs in relief as they make their escape before wincing as claws create three long and deep gashes down his forearm as the nails hook onto his flesh and practically tear it out. With a snarl he takes another picture, feeling satisfied once the demon backs off while screaming in agony. He just had to buy some more time…
"Come on!" He finds that the closer the demon is, the more effective the Camera Obscura seems to be. However, he had to time it just right so that he wouldn't get hurt again. With his right arm hanging limply at his side he waits, pressing the button once the demon winds it's arm back to attack. It stumbles backwards, a shriek escaping past it's lips as it disintegrates into oblivion.
Wasting no time, Lancer immediately set out after his brother and Archer.
"Diarmuid? Archer!" Damn, this is getting him nowhere. He had no idea where he's going, and he's pretty sure that Archer has a concussion. The winding hallways all look the same to him, and judging by his vision blurring that he's close to dropping from blood loss alone. With that thought in mind, he takes a look at his wounded arm and winces. Droplets of blood fall to the ground, twin streams of the red liquid trailing down his arm to congregate at his fingertips. Three vertical lines extend down his arm-a souvenir from the demon before it disappeared. Hopefully, it was for good… He notices small purple engravings running along the sides of the wound, which alarm him; however, he had more important things to worry about.
"...-cer?" A voice breaks him out of his thoughts, resonating from his right. Making sure that the Camera Obscura was secured around his neck he runs towards the source of the noise, phone back in his uninjured hand and illuminating the corridor before him.
"Diarmuid!" Slipping on the wooden tiles he rounds a corner, bumping into someone.
"Ack!" By the sound of it, he had knocked Diarmuid onto the floor.
"Sorry about that…" Lancer apologizes, pocketing his phone and extending his hand down towards him. His little brother huffs but takes his hand, thanking him as he brushes dust off of his outfit.
"It's alright; I'm just glad you're safe. Speaking of, what happened to the demon…?" Lancer grins triumphantly, which sent a spark of hope through Diarmuid.
"Gone."
"You are amazing!" The raven-haired male smiles in relief as he heads to the sliding door. Leaning against it was Archer, arm resting on his knee as he struggles to stay awake.
"So, you've learned how the camera operates…" The white-haired male smiles wryly as the brothers draw closer to him. "I must commend you for defeating the demon."
"You can leave now, right?" Lancer asks with his grin still in place. Honestly, battling a demon with just a camera and rescuing his little brother as well as a stranger-turned-friend was not what he was expecting to come out of the day but as long as they were all alive, it didn't matter.
"Perhaps." Archer jokes lightly, eyes slightly unfocused. He couldn't believe that he would make it out of this godforsaken place, let alone with two rather...eccentric brothers. Maybe, with the demon gone, his duty was done. "We shall make our way out at once."
Lancer and Diarmuid shift the man over to an adjacent wall before the latter grasps the handle. After sharing a look with his older brother, he yanks the door to the side and revels in the smell of fresh air. He turns back towards the two and smiles, helping Lancer support Archer.
"This is it." Lancer says to Archer as they step closer to the open doorway. The sun bears down on the lush wildlife surrounding the mansion, illuminating the scenery. To be honest, it looks like salvation to the trio. "You ready, Archer?"
"Mm." They step out into the sunlight, Diarmuid smiling so much his cheeks began to ache while Lancer cheers. They both then realize that they were missing one person, and a look of horror passes over their faces as they whirl towards the open doorway.
Archer stood there with steel orbs widening, a dismayed expression overcoming his features as an invisible boundary prevents him from exiting the mansion.
It's the last thing they saw before the door slams shut, the house looking almost innocent as muffled screams resonate from within.
Heeey, thanks for checking this out! I honestly love this idea, and it is actually a Fate/Stay Night UBW and Fate/Zero AU set in the Fatal Frame Game. So, Cu rescued his little brother but his newfound ally Archer is still trapped within the mansion. In the next chapter, Arturia is about to be confronted by an angry Cu Chulainn and the poor blunett is haunted by Archer's face. Also, he has strange engravings on his arm (which he should really get looked at).
On the bright side, Gil and Rider made giant cinnamon rolls!
Thank you guys again, and review your thoughts on this fic!