Birthday For One
Her eyes hurt.
It's the first sensation she registers. The pulsing pain behind her eyeballs throb, forcing her consciousness to return from the depths. Arle hisses through her teeth. The cool air hits her dry tongue, and she shudders.
Arle presses her palms against the grass. She runs her fingers across the crisp blades, feeling their points tickle the space between her fingers. She keeps her eyes closed as she massages the ground, taking in the faintly moist dirt brushing against her digits.
Arle sighs. She isn't even sure if she wants to open her eyes. She'd rather immerse herself in feeling the dirt instead of facing whatever reality has decided to set before her.
Her eyes open without her consent when sunlight burns her face. She grimaces, squinting through the hot, blinding rays, and she pushes herself off the ground. Her knees wobble and knock together as she stands. All of her strength is centered in her feet, but she cannot move. She is a block of steel standing in the middle of some nameless place.
Arle's gaze focuses, her pupils dilating as she takes in her surroundings. Large trees, an ever-present blue sky, puffy cumulus clouds all greet her. She responds by turning away, noting the large, gaping mouth of a cave. Stalactites are its fangs. Her heads tilts, and she keeps her expression neutral, the fleeting curiosity of the past brimming in her soul.
She could explore, she supposes. She could enter the cave and imagine the good days of Carbuncle sitting on her shoulder and cheering her on as she blasted enemies into nothing with a few Ice Storms. At least, the very notion makes her heart skip a beat as memories fog her mind, but with a quick shake of her head, Arle banishes it all.
Arle takes notice of the woods and surmises why she had been so foolish. She should have made sure Satan was fully under her spell instead of allowing her doppelganger any leisure in freeing his mind. She should have challenged her to a real magic duel instead of popping Puyo. Such a child's game was not suitable for their bout, in which the victor would retain the right to remain as Arle.
She closes her eyes as the headache returns. Arle grips the back of her skull, hissing out a curse as she remembers how her doppelganger finished her off with a well-timed Bayoen, following a quick Jugem. After that, she receded back to nothingness and ended up alone once more while Arle took all the glory with her friends.
Arle brushes twigs and dirt out of her hair. The fleeting thought of bugs in her hair makes her shiver, and she turns her attention to her armor. It's still polished, and miraculously, there are no cracks. Even if there are no eyes on her, she is relieved to still look like herself.
When she ambles forward, she comes out to a field. It's spacious, and she scowls. It is the place where she had set up her entrapping circus, which she wonders why she ever thought it was a promising idea. Although, brainwashing and manipulating Satan had been a true victory, she should have known her copycat had tricks up her sleeve.
They had been the same person after all. One has cosmic power, enough to take down a god, and the other is just a complete nuisance created with part of her soul. Arle wonders if her other half, now full and protected by companions, also took her own ingenuity with her when Satan tore them apart.
Arle wanders over to the field with nothing else to do. She has all the time in the universe to plot her next move, one without circuses. Sitting in the center of the field, she remembers how she watched her doppelganger laugh, frolicking through the merry booths with Carbuncle on her shoulder. How her laughter, honeyed and carefree, echoed above the fanfare and conversations and stabbed her in her forever cracking heart.
She pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to push back her continuing headache. She takes too many breaths to count and peers at the ceaseless cerulean sky. It looks exactly like the one that covered her world, and she had to compliment Satan for his near-perfect recreation of their world.
She wishes he could have selected her to be in it, but he just had to go and make the world his own playpen. She wishes everything and everyone could have gone back to the way they were before her battle with the creator began.
Arle closes her eyes and blows out imaginary candles. Lying on her back, Arle smiles and sinks back into slumber, dreaming of years gone by and people she will never see again.