i.

In the bleeding glow of the setting sun, he runs. His footsteps are silent as he moves through the trees, towering trunks cresting over his head, leaves wide and full, blocking his view of the sky as he flees. The autumn air is cold inside his lungs, but his skin burns hot, movement keeping him warm.

He's been on the move for what feels like hours, but can't possibly be that long. The sun hasn't fully set yet and he left the mansion just as it began to dip below the line of the horizon. He doesn't know if he's been followed this far out. He's put every damn thing seared into his brain to use; every despicable, ridiculous, method of escaping he could implement on the fly. His family, while failing at literally everything else that isn't murder or being assholes, have always had quite efficient ways to make the lessons stick. He's hoping that it's enough to avoid capture and punishment.

It has to be, otherwise, he's majorly screwed.

Shit, he thinks, eyes darting around him as if he'll catch sight of the way out of this mess. His life at this moment is just that: a mess. In fact, it might just be the absolute worst mess he's ever made in his short, boring, unfulfilling twelve-years of life.

It's much worse than like, calling Milluki a fat shit when their mother is around, or switching Illumi's conditioner with hair thinner and blaming Kalluto for it. Or when he glues rhinestones to the butler's uniforms when they're not looking so they walk around like that all day. They're always funny stories to tell even after he's put through whatever punishment is thought up by his mother. Especially since his father chuckles at some of the absurd pranks he pulls, his grandfather sighs but mutters something about there being worse hobbies, with a not so discreet glance at Milluki tapping away at a handheld game at the dinner table. Illumi always tells him that it's unbecoming behavior for an assassin, but doesn't do anything to stop it.

What Killua has done now warrants much heavier punishment than the things he usually gets in trouble for. Illumi-level punishment. The kind of punishment that speeds his heart up in his chest and makes his breathing come short, fast, frantic. Illumi's punishments are always for serious infractions. For lessons that he doesn't believe have sunk in quite as deep as he would like them to be; for mistakes that will never be repeated, never, ever again. Beneath the skin and muscle and nerve, etched into the very marrow of his bones, they are a part of him that he cannot forget.

(There are some things that can not be erased, not from the flesh, not from the mind, and especially not the soul.)

The blood is still splattered on him, splotches of bright red and dulled rust painting his once white shirt and part of his shorts. The fabric clings to his skin with the tackiness of wet blood, although there are sections where it has dried stiffly and flakes off when the materials crease. The light of the sky is still bright enough for him to see just how dark his hands have been stained with his mother's blood.

Not that she's dead, or at least wasn't last time he saw her, shrieking and holding her face as blood gushed out from between her fingers. In another circumstance, in another life, she might have been proud at his ruthlessness to even his own blood- but here, it just serves as a violent reminder that he has chosen a different path than the one set before him. He burns with what Mother had asked of him, the thing she had told him only he could do before she leaned in close, manicured hand on his face, painted fingernails curling in like talons into the line of his jaw.

You have to kill it, she said, There's no other person that can do it, it has to be you. Her words echo inside his mind, looping around themselves like a snake devouring itself. A part of him is still reeling with what he's done, with what his instincts urged him to do in the haze of shock, rage, and betrayal. Another part of him is stunned that his mother bleeds just as red as everyone else he's killed.

How could she have asked that of him? Out of everything in the world, all the people he's killed, how could she have ordered him to kill his most precious person? How could she think that he would ever raise a hand against Alluka?

Killua's heart aches at the thought of doing, so even accidentally. He's always been the one to protect Alluka; since the moment he met her and she smiled at him, bright and soft and loving. Since she tilted her head and shyly asked him, "You're my brother aren't you? Does that mean we can be friends?"

He would never hurt his little sister. Never.

Alluka is better than he could ever be; a kinder, warmer soul- even with the spirit that has latched itself to her since infancy. Not that he's ever physically seen it, only caught glimpses from the corner of his eyes, of something dark and slick, pale white face like bones that have been left to bleach in the sun, curling around Alluka's shoulders like a shawl. Nanika hasn't hurt Alluka either, only protected her, a guardian angel made of ink that kills to defend, that wields magic that has no place in this world like a shield.

That's about the extent of his experiences with spirits- curse giving, wish-granting Nanika. Even though the only times Killua has spoken to Nanika have been through Alluka's mouth, the spirit taking over his sister's body with Alluka's consent, of course, and asking for favors and gifts- like a spiritual magpie, hoarding trinkets of flesh and blood instead glittering ones.

The sunset sets the sky aflame above him, filling the clearing he has wandered into with a cascade of shifting hues overhead. Colors coalesce into something vibrant along the line of the horizon, painting the clouds that stretch away from it in pastel pink and orange, in burning shades of red and yellow, the spaces between them filled to the brim with violet and lilac, navy and cerulean. It's like all of the sky is saturated with color.

Killua isn't one to appreciate the sunset, not like Alluka, who beams at anything bright and colorful and likes basking in the warmth of the sun before it fully fades. But there's something about the sky at this moment that he can't tear his eyes away from. He doesn't think he's ever seen it look this way: otherworldly and breathtaking, drawing him until it's the only thing reflected in the blue of his eyes.

It's hypnotizing.

His feet move, stepping in front of the other, deeper into the embrace of the forest. His face is tilted heavenward, hair lightly bouncing with each step. The trees sway as a strong breeze races through the clearing, the leaves rustling against each other almost soundlessly. The forest grows quiet around him, not even the singing of crickets or chattering of animals breaking through the stilled silence.

Waist high statues are dotted before him, unexplained figures chiseled with humanoid faces- humanoid, but not quite human. He didn't even know there were statues like this on their property, to begin with. A part of him shivers as he walks past them, but he brushes it off as the night's chill and continues on.

He's in a part of the forest that he hasn't ever seen before. He wonders if Illumi knows about this place and if he'll follow him this far out. With luck, he'll think that Killua left toward the closest airship to leave the country behind. Killua wouldn't leave like that. Or maybe he would have if not for the reason he left to begin with: his mother, Alluka, and the knife he drove into Mother's face instead of his sister's back. He tries not to think of the wide-eyed surprise, of the way it was so easy to hurt his mother like she was just another target, as just another body of someone that got in the way.

The trees here are massive. Their trunks are wider than Killua is long, roots bulging from the earth like the dirt isn't enough to contain them. He approaches the slanted form of a weeping willow, the smallest tree he can see, although out of place in the forest. Willows like this don't grow except in damp places, he knows. It's one of the botany lessons he had to sit through as a child. Weeping willows love water, and while this forest is known for its lush vegetation- he's never seen a willow here before.

Killua brushes past the draping branches and steps into the area beneath the tree. Its roots are twisted and poke out of the ground, showing a dark opening right underneath the bulk of the trunk. Maybe he can hide out here until the time for him to leave comes. He gives the roots an intent stare before shrugging and taking a seat among them. It's better than nothing. He's had to rough it out much worse before.

He can hardly catch sight of the sky from here.

Killua plans on returning later tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest to take Alluka far, far away from here. This is the closest he can hide without being found, where he'll emerge once the night has settled into darkness. His mind flashes to the whispers of the townspeople that live below the crest of the mountain, of the forest that his family owns but has never truly tamed. Of the part of the forest that not even Mike wanders into, only patrols the edge of with a wary glint in his eyes and lips curled back in an almost snarl.

The forest is cursed, they say, Never wander there at night or you'll be spirited away. He has heard of disappearances, not of the townspeople (they don't dare wander too close to the Zoldyck mansion, not with Mike and death awaiting them if they do) but of new Butlers straying from their normal patrol to check out the forest as well.

Sometimes, he's heard one mutter to another, I can hear music coming from inside the forest but when I go to check it out, every nerve in my body tells me to get away and I can't go on.

Oh, you're one of the lucky one, another answered, most people don't realize there's anything wrong until it's far too late. They go into the forest as the sun is setting and never come back out again. I knew a guy that went missing like that, was just on patrol with me and looked at the forest, asking me if I heard that before taking off. I never saw him again.

At the memory of the words, Killua's skin erupts into goosebumps.

He has no choice, he has to stay here. It's only for a little bit. It's only for a while. None of those stories can be true, otherwise Father would've investigated those claims. Right?

The burning sunset glows and falls, slowly, slowly, inch by inch, peeking through the cresting branches of the gnarled trees, through the curtain of the willow leaves- until the fire of the setting sun is contained only in a thin line above the horizon.

"It's twilight," he breathes, and something inside his chest gives a sudden, violent lurch. Killua gasps, body straining, eyes slamming shut as the night flashes a with a blinding viridescent light. The world spins, and spins, and spins, the sky changes; the roots cradling him feel like hands holding him down, down against the dark earth like they're dragging him into an open grave and-


ii.

Alluka sighs and stares out the window, watching as the sun sets in the distance, painting the sky a lovely combination of hues. The trees around the mansion are speckled with color, some of the vibrant green leaves shifting into burning orange, soft yellow, and muted brown. Autumn has come and left its chill in the air, and although she's not allowed to open the windows or leave the mansion grounds, she thinks that she would love the cold, crisp air and the crunch of fallen leaves under her feet.

Alluka longs for outside so much that it aches sometimes, that Nanika will hum and ask her why they don't just leave it all behind. But Alluka cannot leave without her brother, without Nii-san to go with her because she doesn't know anything beyond what he tells her- because she cannot imagine a life without him playing with her and laughing with her and caring for her.

She loves spending time with her Nii-san, especially at times like this, when she's bored and can feel the Butlers watch every move she makes anxiously. Like she'll snap and do something awful, like she's no better than a wild animal- with no feelings or thoughts or control. Having Nii-san here would make it easier to ignore her unsubtle followers, he keeps her distracted whenever she feels glum.

Today is one of the days she's allowed to roam beyond her bedroom, freedom argued by Nii-san on her behalf, won with the condition that she is to be supervised at all times and limited to only a few times a month. It's the result of the wish Nii-san made to allow her the freedom to step out beyond her sealed bedroom- that he wanted her to be allowed to leave her room and that if anyone refused her the time she had allotted to wander to kill each of their family members until she was allowed out.

It's no surprise their family had given in to his demands.

She likes these days the most since it means that Nii-san will spend them with her, showing her things he brings from outside and teaching her how to play video games. Nii-san is late to meet her and if she's not back in her room before her curfew comes, she'll be in trouble with Mother.

The sun's already setting though.

Even if Nii-san arrives now, there won't be a lot of time for them to play.

She puffs out her cheeks. She knows he was home earlier, he smiled at her and promised he'd see her in a bit before he headed towards Mother's room. Is he still busy with Mother? What could be taking so long?

Alluka tries to stay out of Mother's way. But if there's a chance she can find Nii-san near Mother's quarters, then that's where she'll have to go. Her boots make a soft thud on the ground as she hops down from her perch on the windowsill and the Butlers lining the hallway all minutely flinch as she moves closer to them. Scared.

Nii-san finds it funny to see how anxious the Butlers get when she comes within a few feet of them, "It's their fault," he likes to say, "For calling you a boy when you're not. You're my cute little sister, that's all."

It always makes Alluka happy when Nii-san calls her his cute little sister, for more reasons than one. She thinks Nii-san knows it too since he always goes out of his way to slip it into their conversations.

The Butlers follow her down the hall, quiet and nervous companions on her journey to find Nii-san. Alluka knows that they think not talking to her will prevent Nanika's power from coming out. It won't. But nobody ever really thinks that for real, it just makes them feel better. She's not going to ask them for anything, either way, there's no need for it.

Nanika is still asleep inside her, humming like the distant buzzing of cicadas, desires sated, at least for now. It's easy for her to tell when Nanika wants something, or when it's time for Nanika to wake up- then she lets Nanika take over since it's not fair if Alluka hogs their body all to herself. It's not like anyone else expects anything else from her anyway.

The carpet muffles the sound her shoes make on the ground. She's still sure that she's still the loudest one that ever goes down these halls, since the Butlers make no sound behind her even though she knows they're following her- and Nii-san walks like he isn't bound by the same laws that make her boots thump on the floor. It's not her fault that everyone around her has super secret training that makes them strong and able to walk as quiet as a mouse.

Alluka hasn't heard Mother talk to her directly in years, only about her like she isn't in the room at times, like she's nothing more than an uninteresting lamp than the child she birthed and then spurned. At this point, Alluka prefers it this way. She's heard Nii-san tell her about the kind of person Mother is and she'd rather not talk to her if she doesn't have to.

"What do you mean you can't find him!?" Mother shrieks, voice reaching a pitch that Alluka hopes to never hear again, she can hear Mother though before she's even outside her bedroom door. "My precious boy! How could you let him go so easily!?"

"Forgive me, Mother. It seems Kil learned more about evasion that I had thought. He got away before I could capture him." Illumi-nii says and Alluka freezes, he's talking about chasing down Nii-san like some sort of animal.

"He's always been a gentle child," Mother spits out as if Nii-san being kind is a burden, something to train out of him at the next opportunity, "Even towards things that don't deserve that kindness."

She carefully, silently, steps away from the doorway leading to the bedroom, unwilling to face the what comes with interaction from anyone but her favored brother. Nanika won't let anyone touch her, won't let anyone that isn't Nii-san lay hands on her- but that doesn't mean that words don't hurt just as badly, that dark empty eyes don't tear right through her like she's made of wet paper.

"He's being quite stubborn about this, I would have thought his sense of duty would have won out after all this time. What I don't understand is why I can't simply kill it for him. He's too attached to it to be willing to harm it, despite all my warnings and reprimands, and I think he considers it as part of the family."

"Illumi," Mother coos, "My darling son, it's sweet that you want to help Killua with this- but he's the next head of the family, which means removing the stain of his generation falls to him. Heaven knows I wish I would have never given birth to that thing if only so that Killua wouldn't have to dirty his hands with its blood. But we can't do anything but wait for him to come to his senses-"

Alluka stops listening. Her mouth goes dry. Her heart, racing in her chest like a frightened rabbit, gives a pained stutter. No, it can't be… can it? She doesn't dare take another step back, doesn't dare move.

The words hold her still with what feels like grief, like fear, like desolation so crushing that Nanika stirs awake. There is a hum of concern, a buzzing in Alluka's chest that speaks without words- sad. hurt. alluka okay? Nanika's buzzing grows louder inside her. It sounds like the angry swarming of hornets, loud, laced with a feeling of danger. Nanika is absorbing the things that Alluka overheard, hearing the same things she did only moments before.

nanika protect alluka. no one hurt alluka. alluka safe with nanika.

Alluka doesn't dare reply, holding her breath and fighting back tears. She didn't know that Mother felt like that, didn't know that Mother has hated her for her entire life. Mother and Illumi were talking about her. They were talking about telling Killua to kill her and him running away instead and how much they hate her and how wrong they think she is- and Alluka doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to catch her breath when it feels like her life has shattered before her eyes.

"I'll see where he's run off to, Mother, don't worry. I'll bring him home again."

Alluka doesn't have time to flee before Illumi-nii steps through the doorway. She meets his eyes and they're so- dark, dark like the living shadows Nanika swallows whole sometimes, like there is nothing, a void, hollow, black hole consuming light- cold, chilling the blood in her veins, freezing her in place.

He doesn't say anything, simply stares at her for a moment, unblinkingly; studying her with detachment, and Alluka feels as if she's a butterfly pinned to a styrofoam board but still alive, wings pressed flat and forced still, struggling in vain to survive. His long black hair shifts around his face when he cocks his head to the side, the motion like a bird of prey. He doesn't smile, not that he ever does, but the lack of expression this time makes her stomach churn.

How long has Illumi-nii hated her? How long has he thought about killing her to spare Nii-san the burden of it? How long has Mother wanted her dead? How long has she been living in a cage, waiting for the execution unknowingly, for her would-be-killer to come to her wearing the face of the family she thought she knew? Is this why Nii-san ran? Is this why he left her behind, so he wouldn't have to face her and hide the fact that their Mother hates her, that there is no one but him and Nanika that loves her?

Alluka's eyes burn, her lungs are tight. The tears she holds back blur her vision.

"Alluka," he says, at last, cutting into her rising sorrow with his flat voice, blank-faced and giving away none of his true thoughts. It's clear to her that he knows what she's heard, that he simply doesn't care enough to address the fact she heard her death being discussed like it's a normal topic of discussion. "It's time for you to go back to your room now."

He makes no move to lead her away. He doesn't need to. At his words the Butlers following her jump into motion, ducking their heads to him respectfully, fearfully, and ushering her from the doorway, down the hall, back underground, back to her room, her cage, her prison.

killua gone? promised to play, come soon? Nanika asks later and Alluka buries her face into her fluffiest pillow, sobs wracking her shoulders, snot dripping from her nose. "Nii-san left, Nanika. He ran away."

If he left, does he even love her? If he left, does that mean that it's only a matter of time before someone enters her room and makes an attempt on her life? Does that mean she's going to die without seeing the outside one last time? Does this mean no one but Nii-san will want to remember her?

Nanika buzzes in agitation. Nanika is upset that Alluka is upset. Nanika is upset that anyone wants to do Alluka harm. Nanika wants to make them all go away so that Alluka is safe forever.

killua love alluka. killua come back soon. nanika protect alluka always, always, always. killua come back, killua always come back. no sad, alluka. no more cry. Nanika says and Alluka knows she's just upset, that she needs to calm down before telling herself that Nii-san doesn't love her. But it's hard to do that when she so upset, when she doesn't know what to do besides wait.

She just wants Nii-san to come back soon.

iii.

From inside the embrace of the twisted roots, the smooth bark, of the dying willow, Killua opens his eyes to the darkness of the night. There's a chill in the air that settles on him like a blanket. He's sure his skin is cold to the touch, not that he can tell, sprawled out like he is. He doesn't remember ever sleeping so comfortably before, not in a long time. Even his naps with Alluka are tainted by the constant vigilance of the Butlers, who disapprove of his prolonged contact with her but can't do anything to make him stop.

Out here, it feels like he's truly alone. With no reason to watch his back, even as he was hunted by his brother. Killua pauses, still in the silence of the night- and feels, more than hears, a buzzing in the air. It's like the thrum of electricity through wires, like power contained in a vessel too small to hold the entirety of its energy- like it may burst out of its fragile shell the moment it grows to powerful.

Something about it, thought, makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. What use is good sleep when the air hums like a warning? What use is good sleep when…

He doesn't remember falling asleep.

He twitches, jolts upright from where he's sprawled against the willow roots, absorbs his surroundings before he's even drawn another breath. The draping leaves of the willow tree obscure anything beyond the small clearing from before, but Killua can see that the forest remains unchanged. He doesn't remember much of anything after the sun fully set and the world started spinning, spinning, spinning-

His sleep, while unnatural, wasn't caused by Illumi. There's no way Killua would have woken up here if that was the case. He would have woken in the punishment chamber, chained to the wall, black eyes watching each of his movements until his transgressions were paid for in blood.

"That's weird," he mutters and pats himself down cautiously, checking himself for any injuries he can't remember, for anything to tell him what exactly happened to him. His fingertips meet the gritty fabric of his bloodstained shirt, entirely dry now, and he grimaces. He had completely forgotten that Mother's blood had spattered on him, that he had fled without changing out of his clothing and continued like that until he found this hiding place.

The blood on his hands is dry now, flaky and falling in rusty flakes when his fingers bend. Killua hates the fact that he reeks like blood, that he smells like iron and that the color has stained his skin even after the flakes fall. He wonders if there's a stream or lake nearby, so he can have a dip and wash away all this grime- all this evidence of a crime he feels no guilt for committing.

There's no other mark on him though. Or on his clothes even. Killua just has the silent forest around him, his confusion, and a nagging feeling that something- he doesn't yet know what- is horribly wrong.

He slowly steps out of the cover of the willow branches, eyes narrowing at the brambles twining between the trunks of the trees framing the clearing. He doesn't remember those being there before. There's no way he could miss the massive wall of vegetation, the thorns as long as his palm, thick leaves growing from the shrubbery in a wild, unmanaged way. He doesn't think he's ever even seen a plant with thorns that large or that thick. He doesn't think Mother even covered this kind of plant in her lessons.

The forest is quiet, without the buzzing of insects or the rustling of creatures scurrying through the undergrowth. The stillness of the night isn't as comforting as it should be. It reminds him of the silence as animals hide from something larger hunting them, as they hold still not for the silence but out of fear for their lives. The lack of sound puts him on edge, makes his nerves hum like there's something just beyond the shadows, watching him. The tingle on his tongue as he draws in a breath of the cool night air unsettles him, sets alarms blaring inside him that he is not supposed to be here.

Not at all.

He looks up at the night sky, trying to assess the time by the cast of the moon or position of stars. But the moment he turns his gaze upward, his lips slightly part in surprise. The discomfort of the blood dried on him, the unnatural energy in the air, are forgotten. Spread out like glitter on a black canvas, spiralling across the heavens in thick shining speckles, the heavens are alight with the luminance of a million stars.

There are so many of them. They coalesce and form a thick trail of light, arching straight through the sky in a milky line made of starlight. He's caught in rapt attention. Has he ever seen so many stars in his life? He doesn't think that even the peak of Kukuroo Mountain has a view like this, the sky spread out like it has no horizon to contain it, stars glistening like there is no end to them. They twinkle and shine and remind Killua of the dew on the garden flowers when he's walked through it in the morning, trying to find the perfect blossom to gift to Alluka when he sees her later that day.

I want Alluka to see this, he thinks and his mood plummets.

His interest in the night sky wanes as guilt surges.

Alluka hasn't been allowed outside in years, hasn't been allowed outside her room after the sun sets in just as long- and here he is, gawking at the sky like he hasn't been free to see it whenever the whim strikes him. Like he has any right to appreciate the view when his sister is still trapped inside that mansion, a gilded cage that's less gilded and more sharp edges, surrounded by people that think her better off dead.

He has to go back and save her. He promised her that he'd be back.

They won't expect him to come back so soon after what he's done, of that Killua is certain. Which means that right now is the perfect moment to hurry back and steal Alluka away. He'll only have one shot to this. If he fails, the security around Alluka will be upped even more than the ridiculous amount it already is. If he fails, he won't be allowed near Alluka ever again unless it is to drive a knife into her spine.

Killua takes a deep breath and tears his eyes away from the stars. He'll look at them when he has his sister at his side, free from the burden that is the Zoldyck name, together once more. He stuffs his hands into his shorts pockets and walks towards a split in the wall of thorns, oddly enough the same place he entered the clearing from earlier. He has no explanation for the sudden appearance of the new plants, but he also doesn't have the time to dwell on it. It's something to think about when he has Alluka with him.

He leaves the clearing, takes a single step out past the brambles and whirls around at the sound of something moving behind him, a rustle of leaves and dragging of dirt.

The clearing has been blocked from him by the wall of thorns that are still squirming, eating up the small gaps that leave the willow tree visible and filling them with thickening branches. The brambles look like they're alive, serpent-like, shifting, until they fall still and the way back is closed.

What the hell? His senses are on edge, nerves tingling with adrenaline. Killua backs away quickly, eyes locked on the now unmoving brambles. That's…. not normal. At all.

The towering trees around him don't give him a hint as to what just happened, just remain, ancient and massive overhead. Killua's fingers twitch in his pockets and he spins on his heel, anxious to get out of the forest now. It feels like there's something he's missing from this whole situation, like the answer is right on the verge of revealing itself to him but only just, only a breath away.

The tingle in the air doesn't fade as he travels further from the unexplored part of the forest. Instead it seems to grow stronger, more potent as he approaches the small statues from before. Their blank faces peer into the dense and old part of the forest he leaves behind, timeless eyes unblinkingly watching as the trees grow taller into the sky. He has only just stepped out from the line of statues with the tingle in the air thickens, a buzz that he feels humming down to his bones, and the world around him erupts in sound.

Everything is so loud.

The ancient trees had muffled the sounds it seems, consumed them- because out here, all the missing sounds Killua took notice of earlier come back with a fierce vengeance. The leaves rustle with an unfelt breeze, the animals shake the undergrowth in their passing, the insects buzz and sing from their hiding places, and in the distance there is the faint sound of music. They all burrow into his ears, pounding against his eardrums, buzzing like they're furious he's at the heart of the forest to begin with.

Killua rocks back on his heels, hands flying out of his pockets to slam over his ears at the sudden burst of stimuli, heart beating fast inside his chest. His eyes dart around at the forest around him, casting a glance back to the statues and seeing beyond them trees that are tall but not as massive as the ones he saw on the way here; old but not the gnarled ancient ones he remembers.

It's not what he saw there only a moment ago. The forest has changed shape around him, it has resettled it's timeless bones around him, shifting until it's no longer recognizable. Trees have slunk and moved places, almost soundlessly, with as much sound as a whisper of leaves. It's like they are alive, except not just alive- but also aware.

How can a forest be self-aware? What kind of forest has trees that move and statues that change and willows that don't belong? Maybe this place is cursed after all.

There's something inexplicably wrong here, something he doesn't understand but can't ignore, not anymore. Not when, as he climbs one of the nearby trees to catch sight of the Zoldyck mansion, it's not the familiar view that greets him; not when there's a lot more buildings and lights and music in the place where his house used to be. Not when, as he catches sight of the moon rising from the horizon, it's not only one that fills the sky… but two.

The double moons move around each other. The stars near their luminescence look dull, although still brilliant, still scattered across the sky like cosmic dust. Killua's heart stutters nervously in his chest. His mouth goes dry. Dread settles in his stomach like lead, like the first time he drank poison- painful, churning messily in his belly, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin… afraid.

This isn't the world he knows. This isn't like anything he knows.

The world he knows doesn't have two moons. It doesn't have misplaced willow trees, or the buzzing of energy that sings unnatural songs in his ears, his blood, his soul. It has Alluka and the Zoldyck mansion, not this mysterious town with its mysterious lights in this mysterious place.

Dropping from the tree with no concern on where he lands, Killua tries to swallow down his reservations and sprints to where his home used to be- there no longer, only the unknown waiting in its place.


iv.

He reaches the edge of the forest far too soon.

There's no Mike to greet him, or familiar lights of the mansion on the crest of the hill. There's only a busy town, full of busy bodies hustling across the streets and tall building he doesn't recognize in the place of the mansion. The mixture of noises from the town increases in volume the closer he gets to it, just as loud as some of the cities he's travelled to on missions.

It's unsettling to hear something like that in the usual silent mountains. It viscerally reminds him that this place is not the one he has grown up in, that this is not the place he knows.

The outskirts of the town are framed with more trees, paper lanterns strung up from branch to branch like an odd boundary, a split between wilderness and settlement. While most of the town is surrounded by the lantern lined forest, there is a main road heading between the lush vegetation. It leads down to where Killua knows is the base of the mountain, where the Testing Gates tower tall and heavy between the world below and the mansion.

There is a tall red structure just before the town opens to the mouth of the road. It has thick wooden pillars, three lining the opposite sides of the road with smaller segments pushed through the all three of them, in a semblance of a rectangular shape. Atop of them there are long heavy slabs of wood, connecting to the tallest of the opposing pillars- with another long piece of wood, upward slanting roofing at the top of it all. Killua hasn't seen anything like it before.

The lanterns are everywhere, hanging from building to building, illuminating the streets underneath with their soft flickering lights. A few trails are paved with wide, flat stones but the rest aren't. The main streets are made of dirt, small tufts of grass sprouting by the edge of the paths, adding a splash of color to the already bright streets. Occasionally there will be a small flower nestled inside the grass, wild blossoms that seem to thrive without any interference.

Killua doesn't see any footprints in the dirt, not even near the many wooden buildings that frame the streets, standing tall like silent sentries, watching him make his way deeper into the town. They're all shaped differently. The varying curves, swooping arches, and straight lines give each of the buildings an entirely unique appearance; he doesn't think he's ever seen a place that looks quite like this.

He explores the outskirts of the town like this, edging around it, not entering it just yet- simply drinking in the architecture and anxiously casting glances at the double moons rising higher in the sky. Killua has been trained for years to keep a level head and analyze situations for the best chance of survival and success. He has learned to examine his surroundings and figure out what to do without losing his cool when things don't go as planned.

He's not sure if it's because of this that he dares enter the town, putting his slightly shaking hands in his pockets and taking more confident steps than he feels. Or if its because the shock has yet to hit, has yet to sink its fangs into him and shake him in its jaw like he's nothing but a chew toy- has yet to sink in that he's nowhere near home.

Maybe a combination of both.

Killua roves his gaze across the buildings, to the trees scattered throughout the town. This is a picturesque place, one that he wouldn't be surprised to find full of people. It's completely empty though.

Is this town abandoned? There's no way it is, not when there are stalls lining the streets, plates piled high with decadent foods that are still steaming, and that same lilting music that he could hear all the way in the forest playing with no source in sight. The vacancy puts his nerves on edge, the odd hum of the energy in the air tastes like the air after it rains. It feels like he's waiting for something to happen, for lighting to finally strike during a hot summer storm- but anxious that it will come down over his head when it does.

Killua will admit, once he pushes aside the unnatural double moons, and the fact that the absence of his house is eating away at the lining of his insides- the town is pretty neat.

There are stone stairways rising at the end of the dirt streets, red railings made of the same wood as the odd gate at the town entrance. He climbs them without breaking a sweat, feet stuttering to a halt as he sees the massive building just ahead, past a lush tree wrapped in string and white pieces of paper; just beyond a long wooden bridge- right where the Zoldyck manor once resided.

He just stands there, staring at it, unaware that he has moved and is now close enough to drag his fingers across the thick wood of the railings. Unaware that he has attracted the attention of something pulling itself out of the tree behind him, humanoid and silent until it speaks.

(He doesn't know that the scent of blood hangs so heavily it has left a trail across the town, that his wanderings have wound the scent around itself until it's almost impossible to find the source. He doesn't know that the smell clinging to him makes him a walking target. He doesn't know that it is this potent smell of blood that rouses the spirit behind him from its slumber earlier than usual.)

"Excuse me, are you okay?"

Killua turns around slowly, still stunned by the sight of the massive bathhouse.

The speaker is a boy that looks to be his age. His hazel eyes are locked on Killua, concern swimming in them as they scan him from head to toe, flashing with worry at the bloodstains on his shirt. "Are you hurt?"

"What? No."

"But you reek of blood," the boy tells him, pointedly looking at the stains on his clothes, "Plus, you're covered in it. It smells like human. Are you a human?"

A block of ice grows in Killua's stomach. Are you a human? What kind of question is that? Of course he is! Killua has the urge to shoot back the same question. A closer look at the boy makes his response stall in his mouth.

The boy's brown skin has odd little patterns on it, like the bark of a tree except without the roughness; there are small sprouts growing from his collarbone, his arms, peeking out of the top of his spiked, green-tinted, black hair. Humans don't grow plants from their skin. Humans don't ask other humans if they're human too.

Killua holds his tongue and instead raises a brow, hoping the movement looks as natural as he needs it to be, "Really? What do you think?"

The boy pouts. "Hey! You can't answer a question with a question!"

"I just did," Killua answers with a haughty little smirk, tacking on at the end, "What is this place anyway?"

"You don't recognize it? Is this your first time here? "

"I guess you could say this isn't what I expected to see when I came here."

"Well, it's the most popular vacation town in all of the Spirit World." The boy says, "Town, not city, since that would be York New and not Jiufen. But Leorio says that Jiufen is better since he's able to study here under the doctor for free, and things aren't as expensive as they are in the big cities. Kurapika says that Leorio is just a cheapskate and that Jiufen is nice because of the natural hot springs, and the forest around it, and there aren't as many annoying people here."

The boy's rambling is making Killua's head spin. His mind is struggling to put a place to all the names, places and information he's been given- although that's mostly because it has latched on to a single phrase, a single combination of words that makes his stomach twist and something cold seep into his bones. The moons crest directly overhead, silvery light cast down on both of them.

"Spirit… World?"

"Yeah?" The boy says, tilting his head to the side in bewilderment, "Where else would we be?"

"I-" Killua is interrupted by the loud ringing of a gong, the sonorous thrumming filling the air, vibrating like the energy that has itched at his skin since he woke up- ringing again and again. In the distance, there's a slow scraping, like the Testing Gates have been opened, all at once- and then, the empty looking town is not empty any longer. His words catch in his throat and do not escape.

They appear like specters, like the shadows that dance against the wall when a candle flame flickers. Some of them are shapeless, inconsistent figures squirming and shifting their way up the dirt streets. Some of them resemble animals. He sees a frog-like creature, wearing an odd looking robe, one like the boy near him but with a different color and pattern. It's talking to a creature with the head of a boar, gesticulating wildly with webbed hands, followed closely by a half-naked turnip, who sits at one of the food stalls with a jiggle of its soft white flesh.

They're sniffing the air, following the scent of food to the stalls- circling the town, like they've caught the smell of something interesting. It smells like human, the boy had said and Killua takes a step back, bumping into the boy and jerking himself away from the contact.

Killa feels ill. His pulse is beating frantically in his veins, like his heart is a drum and something is pounding away at it, drumming out a melody he cannot fathom. He doesn't hear what the boy is saying to him, and while he sees the spark of concern in the boy's eyes, Killua cannot bring himself to care. Not when he's realizing that it truly is a different world he's woke up in, and that all those rumors- the forest is hungry and will swallow you whole- are true.

Spirits, he thinks and his ears ring like sirens heard from a distance. I'm in the Spirit World, he thinks again and his stomach roils. Choking dread bubbles up inside him. It's cloying and overwhelming and he doesn't think he's ever felt like this before, scared and angry and helpless, all at once.

The boy comes closer, mouth moving and arm slowly creeping forward, like Killua is a wild animal that needs to be approached with caution. Isn't he? Isn't he just something to be gawked at in this world, human where nothing else is, a target when he's never been anything of the sort before?

Killua is aware enough to back away from the boy as well, to step away from his reaching hand before it could make contact, knowing that he might react with brute force instinctually. He is aware enough to see the moment a dog-headed spirit whirls to stare right at him, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, jowls moving in what could only be a single word- human.

Things blur from there on forward. He doesn't know how when returns to the forest, or when he leaves the town with his heart choking him and his hands shaking. All he knows is that after seeing the spirits fill the town, after hearing the boy tell him just where he is- where he is now trapped, he had slipped into a foggy haze and fled.

What weight does his name hold here? What use is this freedom when he has no chance of rescuing Alluka? What use is anything when he can't fulfil the promises he made?

He finds a tree branch close enough to the town that he can still hear the music, and settles there, unmoving for hours. The knowledge that he has strayed into a place that is not meant for humans to enter chokes him. It feels like the very air is humming in his chest, like the constant energy in this world is filling his lungs like water. It mingles with the dread festering in him and turns it into something like despair. He feels disconnected from himself, like he's lost touch with everything he is.

The buzzing in the air feels like pure energy in his veins, like he's downed a shot of a pure caffeine and it's being metabolized all at once. He feels jittery, anxious. His leg bounces up and down, and keeps his eyes locked on the nearby lanterns, tracing their shape and feeling the color burn into his mind.

He pointedly doesn't think of how relieved he is that he won't have to face his guilt in his dreams. It doesn't do anything to stop it from sinking its sharp and jagged fangs into him while he's awake.

Killua doesn't sleep that night. He can stay up without sleep for days until he collapses from exhaustion. He doesn't really even need to sleep, in all honesty- but he hates how muddled his thoughts become after spending too long awake, how his brain fogs up from the sleep it can't have.

Tonight, though, it is guilt keeping him awake, not training, not practice.

It is guilt that seeps into him, that razes like wildfire in his lungs, that keeps him from closing his eyes without seeing a flash of Alluka's face behind his lids. It is guilt that ticks in every beat of his heart, that clicks in every shifting of muscle, of nerves, of body- until it swallows up the silence with its voracious hunger. Until Killua can do nothing but stay awake all night and ache with the guilt of his broken promise pressing down on everything he is.


v.

Alluka drags her fingertips across the cold steel walls of her bedroom, feeling every divot , every scratch- wondering how she ever thought this was normal, how she ever looked at her cage and called it home. Is it because she cannot remember living in another room but this one? Is it because she cannot miss something if it was never hers to begin with- freedom, normalcy, the world beyond these metal walls- even though every cell in her body wants for nothing more than what she does not have?

There is hurt inside her chest. It grows a bit more every time she remembers Mother's words, every time she thinks of the darkness in Illumi-nii's eyes as he looked at her. What is so wrong about her that not even Mother loves her, that not even Illumi-nii can stand the fact that she exists? If she's so wrong then is it wrong for Nii-san to love her, for him to reassure her when their siblings and parents and servants shun her, and look at her with thinly veiled fear and spite?

Is it Nanika? Is it Alluka, herself?

She doesn't entirely remember a time before Nanika. The blurred images she's able to call to mind are fragmented, lost to the distracted memory of a child- of someone unaware of anything besides their basest instincts. The thought of living without Nanika by her side, of spending her life with just herself and no spirit living inside her, fills Alluka with dread.

How can people live like that? How can they survive how silent and lonely everything can get without the constant buzzing of something living-but-not-quite near their heart?

She asked Nii-san about it once and he paused, thinking about it, "Maybe they don't really live," he said and shrugged. The thought of it makes Alluka uncomfortable. Is it possible for someone to live without really living at all, is that really being alive to begin with? Nii-san didn't know the answer when she asked him, and by the odd glint in his eyes, was pondering the question more than he let seem.

Her nail catches on the edge of a gouge in the metal, a badly drawn image of her standing hand in hand with Nii-san, who carved it during one of his visits. Over the two of them, the sun has a smile, and a sloppy flower protrudes from the bottom of the wall. Alluka misses him. She wishes he was here with her, petting her hair and giving her hugs and bringing her snacks from the world outside.

Instead, she is left alone with the echoes of Mother's words repeating in her ears. Instead, her breath stutters in her lungs at the memory of Illumi-nii's eyes on her that day. Instead, Alluka wonders how long it will take until the food that comes to her is poisoned- just how long it will take for someone to drive a knife into her chest.

Nii-san would protect her, Nanika does protect her- but living like this, fearful and locked away; is it really worth living for in the end? Alluka feels chained to this mansion, to this underground room like there's a weight around her ankle that keeps her from floating away like a cloud.

"A pretty cage is still a cage," Nii-san murmured into her hair once, thinking she was asleep; it was his reply to her comment earlier that day, that even when she couldn't go outside, it was okay as long as she see it, "I won't let you live your entire life in one."

It is this promise that keeps Alluka strong. It is this promise that makes the outside world call to her like it can hear her longing to be amidst it. It is this promise that makes her willing to wait for Nii-san to free her, no matter how long it takes- no matter how much it hurts to watch him leave her every time.

She hasn't seen Nii-san since that evening when she overheard Mother and Ilumi-nii after watching the sun set. She wishes there were windows in here. Wants to look out the window and watch the world pass by, to see the seasons change and pretend that she's out there, among it all.

The memory of the world outside the windows are muddled, lost to time as the years have gone by. It's hard to remind herself that once upon a time she had played among the trees, walked amidst the garden flowers with her bare feet, chased after songbirds with glee. It feels like a lifetime ago, like the freedom from then is nothing more than an after image of a lost dream- of a strange world she never belonged in, to begin with.

How old was she then? How long has it been?

It almost feels like she's lived her entire life watched like a bomb ready to explore, though she know that it can't be as long as she thinks it's been. She still longs for the world beyond the mansion, outside the windows, free from the Butlers and cameras; where she can walk barefoot in the grass once more, where no one will call her boy or young lord again; where she can be with Nii-san and they can finally be free.

Time passes slowly in this room. There are no windows, no clocks, nothing for her to know how much time has gone by; there is no way for her to know what day it is, or whether it's night or day. Nanika knows, Nanika always seems to know when the sun has set and whether the moon is full. But sometimes Nanika forgets that Alluka doesn't know this in the same way Nanika does- deep in the fiber of what they're made of, entire body singing as the night grows outside, sleepily swirling as the day breaks.

It's not lonely when Nanika is awake, and Alluka usually sleeps when Nanika does- just so she's not left alone with her thoughts and longings and wishes for the word beyond these walls. And, oh how she longs for freedom, for the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin and the grass under her feet. Oh how she wants to go wherever Nii-san goes, wants to see the world together with him, with Nanika. If she were far away from here, Alluka wouldn't have to stare at these metal walls, wondering why her family doesn't love her- or why they want her dead.

(She knows why, even when she wishes it were otherwise. She knows why even without the singing of Nanika inside her chest as the moon rises again and again; knows it even without the fearful gaze of the Butlers as they bring trays of food through the layers of doors that block her away from the world.)

Sometimes, Alluka dreams of flying. She dreams of a world with twin moons dancing in a brilliant sky, of endless forests stretched out beneath her, of glittering cities and towns cresting upwards like ancient trees.

home, Nanika breathes after the dreams have ended and Alluka has opened her eyes to metal walls once more, flying, free, nanika miss home. What kind of place does Nanika come from, Alluka wonders as she thinks back to those endless skies, just what is it like to be that free?

"I want to see it," Alluka whispers in the silence of her cage, behind the walls, beneath the ground, waiting for Nii-san to come for her again. "Nii-san promised he would take us away from here, we can see it then can't we?" But, Nii-san hasn't come to see her again, has he?

He has left her here after telling her she'll see him soon, has run away from Mother and Illumi-nii and hasn't been found yet- at least not that she knows it. She's been allowed out once already in his absence and spend it talking to Alluka, peering out the window, waiting for Nii-san to come back. To come see her again… But he doesn't. Not that first day, or the next, or the next, or the next, or the next, or the-

Nii-san doesn't come back. He has vanished. He is gone.

He is gone like the small spirits Nanika swallows whole sometimes, when they creep into her room and stare at her from the corners like they're hungry and empty. He is gone like the sun behind the horizon, like the freedom that was once hers- like he always promised he wouldn't be.

She's sitting on the floor, legs tucked underneath her, hugging a battered plush rabbit to her chest. Her teeth bites into her lower lip and her eyes water. I miss Nii-san, she thinks and buries her face into the rabbit. Her shoulder shake as she forces back sobs. She misses him so much.

(His absence eats Alluka alive.)

Alluka waits until she cannot wait any more. That night in the stillness of her locked room, she whispers an idea to Nanika. She whispers it in a low voice, so that the cameras will not hear it, buries her mouth under her blankets so that her lips can't be read either.

Nanika hums in surprise, coiling around itself like a shadowed snake and springing up, seeping out of Alluka like a mist pouring out of her skin. It reshapes in the air besides her, bone white face peering back at her from the swirling black. Nanika's black eyes curve upwards, mouth a slash of darkness moving as it speaks, more coherent than the fragments of sentences that Alluka has learned to understand from inside her.

'alluka,' Nanika says, voice like the static on the television when Nii-san is first hooking up his game system, like the shaking of the trees in the heart of a storm, 'make a wish.' And after a deep breath, staring right into the darkness that is Nanika's eyes, Alluka nods her head and does just that.