X


After their second summer together, Eric Cartman found himself driving back to Denver in the passenger seat of his car. Kyle usually drove because Eric felt too lazy and much preferred to sit back and relax.

That drive was something Eric remembered for years to come.

Of all the vast childhood experiences he withheld in the confines of his mind, one stood out that should have served as an appropriate explanation.

Once, a very long time ago, he could recall an obscure incident wherein he drank the ashes of Kenny McCormick. For weeks after, his body was occupied with the burden of two souls, which served as an eye-opener in more ways than one. The strain that it put on his body was something he only came to realize years later, but never brought up, not even with Kyle. Having two entirely different perceptions hovering in such close proximity was enough to confuse any person; had Eric not possessed such a distinct life and persona separate from Kenny, it wouldn't have come as a surprise if they got their memories jumbled together, and no one knew who lived through what.

The strange thing about that particular episode was the dreams. Again and again, Eric saw, through a cloudy looking glass, visions of numerous deaths, all of them like familiar forgotten memories. Kenny would always be silent as these images played out, and in the aftermath of remembrance, it was only then that Eric experienced a moment of peace with his friend's soul.

It was as if Kenny found some kind of dim reassurance in the fact that someone other than himself knew about his reality.

Eric came to learn that his friend suffered through death countless times, in a macabre assortment of desensitizing events. He never brought it up because, like Kenny, he knew instinctively that no one would believe him.

The experience left Eric with an alternate awareness that provided another dimension to reality, one that was darker, morbid, and secretive.

On numerous occasions he would feel hair-raising sensations that prickled against the nape of his neck and he would know that he wasn't alone.

Eric never saw spirits, but rather he felt the vestiges of human souls, traces of what they left behind rather than seeing ghostly apparitions. He could feel grudges, nostalgia, sadness, the unwillingness to depart from the physical world, but only on rare occasions did he encounter a wandering soul.

He knew, however, that he had a strong perception of the spirit world, and it was all thanks to his merging with Kenny McCormick in a time not so long ago.

Eric immediately felt the memories of his time with Kenny. They surfaced to the forefront of his mind as Kyle drove past the county borders onto spacious highway road.

The hairs at the back of his neck prickled, creating a morbid tickling sensation. They weren't alone.

Years of dismissing the unearthly sensations trained him well enough not to make others aware of his sensitivity.

So he held still, watching Kyle cautiously from the corner of his eye, as a cold aura washed over him. Eric sensed the malevolence of a powerful, fearsome presence and immediately attempted to pinpoint the source.

A glance outside the car told him that there were no memorial sights on the road. The highway was eerily devoid of any traces of the supernatural. No remnants of violent deaths. That would have been the only explanation.

The crushing magnitude of black malice suggested something along the lines of a grudge, and Eric naturally concluded that it was from a spirit that left the world in an act of violence.

But something else, something more sinister and vicious, told him that he was wrong.

On a normal day, he would hear numerous whispers of the lost and damned, a cluster of dim ghostly murmurs that he couldn't decipher. But on the drive out of South Park, all of them were silent, as if fleeing from the singular presence of black hatred that seemed to pervade every inch of Eric's paranormal awareness.

As the silent drive wore on, Eric became more and more anxious when the malicious aura prevailed. It was becoming harder to conceal it from Kyle, who murmured something about, "Dude, is it just me, or does it feel cold all of a sudden? Jesus. It's only just August."

Eric stiffened, glancing at the redhead. Kyle could feel it, too.

The situation was taking a turn for the worse. If someone like Kyle, who had no known sixth sense, could become aware of an otherworldly presence, it only meant that the spirit wanted to make itself known. And with such black, choking malevolence, the situation only meant danger.

It wasn't often that Eric acknowledged spirits. He never called out to them, never made them aware that he could feel them. But the present threat that this malicious aura presented to both him and Kyle meant that he had to act.

Summoning up all his strength, he projected a thunderous roar from the confines of his mind.

Who the fucking hell are you?

He was greeted with a beat of silence.

Suddenly, Eric felt a choking pressure inside his chest, as if an unseen hand slipped itself past his breastbone to grasp viciously at his heart.

His pulse floundered for stability.

His reflection in the window told him he'd gone white. Eric held his breath, attempting to muffle any sounds of discomfort. A glance at Kyle told him that the redhead was unaware of his unease.

Grateful for small blessings, Eric sat up straight in his chair, muscles rigid as he felt rage simmering beneath the surface of his skin.

I'll ask you one more fucking time, his mind boomed. Don't even think of trying that again, motherfucker, because it's not going to work. Tell me. Who. You. Are. That's an order.

He was greeted with the cruel sensation of amusement. Eric held his ground, but knew instinctively that the spirit he'd addressed found his words futile and laughable. Icy fear coursed through his veins, leaving his body cold and numb with dread.

Eric looked at Kyle.

Black smog hung thick and glutinous around him, coating Kyle's unsuspecting figure in murky swirls, frightening trickles of globular black substance dripping like gasoline, hanging in the air like putrid haze.

Eric's eyes widened. He became deaf to everything around him as a piercing frequency filled his ears.

The black aura was surrounding Kyle.

It was a warning, leveled directly at Eric.


They returned to their Denver apartment three hours later.

The strange apparition in the car left Eric shaken and paranoid, but he took great pains not to show Kyle.

Kyle didn't suspect a thing and carried on as usual, unpacking his things and chattering away, suspiciously unaware of Eric's silence.

Eric took to watching Kyle, noting that every time he got close to the redhead, he could feel alarming traces of the violent spirit surrounding him. Kyle wasn't possessed, but Eric could tell that something hovered over him like a wicked angel.

That thought sent his mind reeling. The presence was definitely not of human origin. Whatever it was, it reeked of power and black hunger.

It lingered throughout the day. Eric wore himself out trying to piece together reasons and explanations behind the sudden manifestation. These things were never unwarranted; there had to a purpose.


Midnight found him seated in the darkness of the apartment living room.

Kyle was asleep, safe in bed. The spirit that clung to him seemed to have dissipated, but its presence hung in the air with dark promise.

Now it was the witching time of night, Eric pondered, and something was about to happen.

He opened the large window of the living room and now sat in an armchair, facing the dark green curtains that swayed in a ghostly dance of the night breeze.

The clock that hung on the kitchen wall could be heard ticking throughout the apartment.

Eric stared with undaunted eyes at the black sky beyond the window.

He felt rather than heard the sound of tinkling chimes. The sensation fed him cold eerie dread.

Finding his voice, he answered, "Show yourself."

A soft, chilly breeze blew against the curtains. The temperature dropped. A distinct scent of pine and maple fluttered in the air.

Eric stiffened, grasping the arms of his seat with tense fingers. Knuckles white, he fought the chilling urge to turn and look behind his shoulder. The hairs at the back of his neck were prickling with anxious fervor.

He wasn't alone.

"I've heard many things about you, Eric Cartman."

The sound of an unfamiliar voice robbed the silence from the night. Someone stood not too far behind him, and Eric tamped down the cold fear that wrapped its scaly, slimy arms around his heart.

"Of course you have," he murmured, standing his ground. "Everyone has."

Once again, he felt cold amusement in the air as a condescending chuckle echoed off the walls.

"I can smell your fear," the voice hissed. "It tastes like ash. You needn't put up such a brave front."

Eric rose from his seat. He turned around, eyes set in a fearsome glare. His gaze settled upon an innocent looking boy, a head shorter than him, with a face so angelic and pale that it rivaled the glow of the moon.

The stranger that stood in the middle of his living room had black, wavy locks that framed his seraphic visage, with iridescent green eyes that contained unearthly knowledge.

Eric frowned, feeling volatile repulsion like bile at the back of his throat. It wasn't human. It was a spirit dressed in beautiful skin.

"What do you want," Eric growled.

The apparition of the boy smiled at him, petty glee evident in his eyes. "It's funny how you can sense me clearly, Eric. Your lover doesn't share the same ability."

"Trust me," Eric sneered, "I'd rather not sense you."

A bark of merciless laughter escaped angelic lips.

"You're as irreverent as they say you are," the boy hissed cryptically. "You know my power. You can feel it. And yet you address me with insolence. I've forgotten how much backbone you foolish mortals can possess."

"What are you here for," Eric snapped. The effort it took him to sustain the unearthly connection was wearing on his mind. If he let it drag on, his guard would be compromised. Something told him that if this thing sensed any mental weakness, his mind would be invaded in a heartbeat.

The boy seemed not to take note of his demand and instead observed Eric with careless languor. Green eyes never left Eric's face. After a tense moment, the boy spoke, any trace of amusement absent in his voice. "You're an odd one, Eric Cartman. You've been blessed with this special gift, and yet we both know that it stems from a curse."

He took a contemplative pause.

"You've been touched by an immortal power."

The whisper hung heavy with promise.

Eric glared at him. "We both know that's not what you're here for," he hissed through gritted teeth, feeling impatience from the pressure of mental strain. "Why were you hovering over Kyle?"

The boy smiled. "Your lover?"

"Answer me," Eric snarled.

The boy laughed again, mockery and disdain evident in his tinkling voice. "You are very sharp. I didn't expect this from you, not at all. This makes my mission far more interesting."

Before Eric could bark out another demand for answers, the boy snapped his fingers. The sharp sound carried throughout the air like the whisper of thunder.

Suddenly, Eric felt rooted to the spot.

His eyes flared with indignant rage, watching as the boy observed him with a sadistic curl of his pretty lips.

"Let go of me," Eric ordered, voice low and thunderous.

"I'm called by many names," the boy carried on, approaching Eric with slow, deliberate steps. "To some, I'm known as Robin. So you may call me Robin.

"You may remember that not too long ago, you visited a well in a forest." Robin stood before him, angelic façade morphing into something demonic. His eyeballs turned black. The ugly voice that came from his striking lips sent a shudder of cold fear down Eric's spine.

"That was my well, my cavern of solitude. In there, I rest my weary being from the noise of your revolting world." Robin stared up at Eric with soulless eyes. The only parts of his body that moved were his lips. "Imagine my surprise when you and your precious Kyle come along to disturb a century of rest. I awake not to the joys of blossoming spring or ethereal winter, but to the sound of two insolent little boys clankering like mindless goats.

"You have disturbed my rest," Robin hissed. "You've destroyed, in a matter of seconds, peace that I have taken great pains to preserve throughout a century. Something as small and insignificant as a human being could never be able to comprehend that destruction." A repulsive sneer marred Robin's beautiful face like a contaminated gash. "Peace of mind is something you lowly creatures have always taken for granted."

Eric remained still against the invisible bonds that held him captive. His time was running out. He couldn't keep up the connection for longer than another five minutes.

He concealed his difficulty behind a steady voice. "But … that happened three months ago," he muttered in disbelief. "Why take your revenge now?"

Robin frowned, and for once Eric sensed a grave unease in the boy's aura. "Immediately after your visit to my well," he whispered gravely, "you entered your hometown, South Park." Robin said the name with emotion akin to dread and revulsion. "The soil on which it sits is tainted with a powerful scar that even I wouldn't touch. It's cursed land, barren and forever lost. The moment you set foot in that place, I couldn't hope to follow you. I would never damn myself by entering that hell."

Eric felt a cynical laugh rising in his throat. "Wow, you really must be all-knowing."

Robin lashed out. His cold fingers glinting pale like bones in the moonlight grasped Eric's jaw with monumental pressure, dragging his face down to eye level.

"Your punishment," he hissed, words flowing with snakelike enchantment, "will be severe, but not permanent. The immortal brand on your soul prevents me from doing so. Even now …" Robin frowned, nails digging harshly into Eric's skin. "Even now, this connection with you is straining me. The borders of mortality and immortality are blurred where you are concerned, Eric Cartman. You feel it as well.

"Which is why I can't inflict suffering directly unto you."

Eric grunted against the sharp pain that cut into his flesh. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Cold fear filled his stomach.

Robin's lips curled into a chilling sneer. "Let me tell you something, something I have never told anyone: every act of infidelity starts with doubt."

Eric felt his heart grow numb. A nagging suspicion fought its way into his mind, but he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"No."

"Yes," Robin chuckled. He moved his pale face closer to Eric, black eyes hollow. "Everyone has doubts, Eric Cartman. Even you. I've seen into your very soul by merely gazing into your eyes, and I know your misgivings." Robin's voice became a soft whisper, almost pitying but nonetheless cruel. "You may love him, Eric, but you've had your doubts. And so has he."

"Don't even think about it," Eric hissed, his voice low but frantic. "Don't you DARE touch Kyle."

A cackle of sadistic pleasure echoed from unfeeling lips. "That is not your prerogative. I have decided upon your judgment, and it ceases only after you have both experienced great pain." Robin's face morphed back into its angelic falsehood. Eric found himself staring into beautiful green eyes. Pretty lips curved into a crescent smile. "While I am unable to posses you, Kyle Broflovski is not the same case.

"I will whisper poisonous misgivings into his ear, and he shall believe every single one of them, thinking that it is him from whence these doubts have stemmed. Soon, he'll believe your love to a farce, nothing more than an idyllic summer romance meant to be forgotten. The doubts I whisper to him will soon become his own."

"NO. GOD DAMN IT."

Eric could feel his concentration waning. The anger and panic came close to clouding his judgment.

"God has nothing to do with it," Robin snapped. "Soon, when your beloved Kyle feels that he no longer loves you, I will appear to him as I appear to you now. Once he addresses these doubts, he will create a weakness in his mind, a small crack from which I can enter and harvest the fruits of temptation. Tell me, Eric Cartman, am I not beautiful as I appear to you now?"

Eric fought the blurry sensation of sleepiness that threatened to conquer him. He stared with murderous intent at the false skin of beauty that stared back at him, unnatural and inhuman.

Robin possessed all the splendor and majesty of a dark angel.

"You know very well," the ominous whisper echoed, "that beauty like this can bring any mortal to their knees. You human beings after all are visceral creatures; you let your judgment become obscured by temporal things such as beauty and pleasure. So why not this, Eric?

"I will have Kyle. He will be unfaithful to you, in mind, and eventually in body. Do not be mistaken; I have no desire for him. I do, however, know that in luring him to infidelity, I will break you both from the inside."

Eric felt panic rising in his throat like noxious bile. He couldn't breathe.

"You son of a bitch," he hissed, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Leave Kyle out of this."

"He is just as guilty as you," Robin shrugged, releasing Eric's jaw from his hold. "I feel our connection waning. You know it as well."

Robin stepped back from Eric, his detached smile promising all he foretold. "Do not worry. The scars I leave will only be memories; I give you my word. Again, this is because of the immortal brand that you possess. I can't harm you, not permanently. Once Kyle has been unfaithful and you suffer the weight of betrayal, I'll consider it equivalent exchange.

"Until then," Robin whispered, "you may bask in your martyrdom, because I know that you will love your soul mate until the end of your time."

Robin cast Eric a meaningful glance. "I must warn you: if you attempt to escape your punishment, it shall only grow worse. Set foot in the town of South Park before my revenge has been fulfilled and Kyle dies. You, I might not be able to harm, but I have free reign over your beloved.

"Keep that in mind, Eric Cartman. Best not to forget. I will appear again when the deed is done."

In a heartbeat, Eric felt his invisible bonds collapse. Within the same moment, Robin disappeared.

He stood in his living room, silent, filled with dread and nausea.

His fate was sealed.


In the following months, Eric watched as Kyle slowly began to drift farther and farther away from him. Robin's unnatural presence hovered in between them, unseen, but tangible.

Despite the knowledge of an otherworldly power, Eric felt the pain.

Watching as Kyle stopped touching him, kissing him, speaking words that once meant so much—it was hell.

In the back of his mind, Eric held out hope that somehow Kyle would fight it with all his might. He would fight the doubts with his infallible spirit and Robin would appear again, proclaiming his revenge a futile endeavor in the face of Kyle's strength.

Holding onto that glimmer of hope drained Eric of strength from which he took solace.

Telling Kyle about Robin was futile.

Seeking help was not an option.

Going back to South Park meant a fate worse than Kyle's imminent betrayal.

Eric was forced to watch through helpless eyes as his one and only love slowly crossed over, leaving him in the shadow of regrets and anger.

A part of him resented Kyle for not fighting back, but even that resentment proved pointless.

Eric simply waited and suffered, because that was the only option Robin left for him.


A glimmer of hope presented itself one December evening.

Kyle came stumbling into the apartment later than usual, and Eric, filled with fear and anxiety from waiting, felt anger at him.

"Kyle, I understand that you're busy," he ground out, standing in the middle of the living room. Eric watched as Kyle stood stiffly in the apartment vestibule. "But would it kill you to answer a goddamn message?"

Eric was taken aback when Kyle ran into his arms, enveloping him in a tight embrace. The cold that clung to his clothes made Eric shiver, but he couldn't suppress the overwhelming feeling of relief in his chest as he wrapped his arms around Kyle.

A sob escaped the back of Kyle's throat. Despite the suffering of the past months that one single noise was capable of splitting Eric's heart in two.

"Kyle … shit. Don't cry."

Pulling away from Eric, Kyle looked at him, frantic tears of confusion and pain marring his fair features. Eric could sense the fear and guilt that saddened his beautiful eyes.

"Eric, I love you."

Eric felt a lump at the back of his throat. For the longest time, Kyle hadn't spoken those words. The plain truth behind his broken whisper was enough for Eric to come undone. Kyle was coming back to him.

"Kyle …"

"I love you, and I know I've been acting shitty. I know that …"

Eric couldn't help the smile that forced its way to his lips. There was hope. "Yeah, you have."

Kyle frowned at him. "Why haven't you said anything about it? I would think you'd have left me by now …"

Immense relief shook Eric, freeing him from the defeat he resigned himself to a long time ago. Kyle was aware that things weren't okay. He knew that something was happening.

Eric felt his immense love for Kyle radiating past all of the pain he endured. This was the man he wasn't able to break, no matter how many times Eric tried in their history together. He took solace in the knowledge that Kyle was resilient, even to forces he wasn't aware of. In a way, Kyle had Eric to thank for that.

"It's called having faith, Kyle. This—Shit like this doesn't last forever."

Eric whispered the message, full of meaning. It was his way of reassuring Kyle, telling the redhead in a subconscious way that it was going to be over soon. Eric felt fragile but enduring hope, like a little humming bird; things would turn out alright.

Robin's presence was strangely absent that night.


A few days later, Eric came home to the silence of the apartment. He was surprised when he found Kyle's jacket thrown carelessly on the floor.

Kyle was home.

But Robin's presence was absent.

Eric ran, his blood pumping with adrenaline.


Eric sat up in the chair he brought in from the kitchen. A weak groan caught his attention.

Kyle lay on the bed, his skin ashen, covered in a sickly sheen of sweat. His breathing was hoarse and shallow. He wouldn't stop shaking.

Swallowing past the choking feeling in his throat, Eric reached out, grasping Kyle's clammy hand in his.

The last thing he expected to find upon coming home was a trail of Kyle's discarded clothes leading to the bathroom. His heart nearly gave out when he found Kyle, limp and pale, lying underneath the hot spray of the shower head.

Kyle had a violent fever. His skin broke out in cold sweat, emitting sickly heat.

Eric squeezed Kyle's hand in his, lifting it to his lips. Planting a hard kiss against the hot skin, Eric reverently placed Kyle's hand back on the bed.

Robin's presence drifted in and out. It felt weak and desperate. Eric knew instinctively that Kyle was fighting. His body was rejecting the invasion of a foreign entity. There was hope.

"Well," he murmured, hazel eyes staring ahead with cold determination. "Just keep trying, asshole. Give it your best shot. You won't take him away from me."


The next day, Robin's presence was back. It felt hot and angry, more vengeful than before.

Eric felt genuine fear for Kyle. There was no telling what Robin would do in light of the redhead's rebellion.

His fever was gone, which meant that his body had then accepted the invasion of Robin's spirit.

This was a turning point, Eric realized.

He insisted that Kyle stay home for day, but was met with protests from the redhead, saying that he felt fine, and he would head home right after class.

Eric didn't want Kyle out of his sight. He knew that Robin would finally deal the finishing blow, one way or another. But Kyle's reassurances hinted something to him; if Kyle said he was going to be okay, Eric knew to trust him.

With a heavy heart, Eric watched Kyle leave their home.

He settled himself in the living room armchair, staring ahead with shaky determination.

"Your move, Robin," whispered Eric, sneering as a cold presence lingered around him. "I'm so fucking tired of sitting back helpless. We both know this is it. Prove to me that you aren't all talk and finish what you've started."


An hour passed as Eric waited.

The ticking of the kitchen clock ceased abruptly. Somehow, he knew that time stood still.

The temperature inside the apartment dropped below zero.

Eric could see his breath forming hazy puffs of white smoke in front of his face.

Standing from where he was seated, he turned to see Robin in the apartment vestibule, Kyle's limp form sprawled at his feet.

Eric felt the blood draining from his face. He was rooted to the spot, cold dread paralyzing him.

Robin's expression was neutral, curious. He watched as Eric fought a battle with himself: to hope for the best, or expect the very worst.

"He's alive, Eric Cartman," Robin whispered. "He's simply exhausted."

"Are you fucking done now?" Eric roared. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides. "You saw that yourself; he fought you. I don't fucking care if he played right into your slimy hands, in the end he didn't go down without a fight. And that's what matters."

His voice broke. Eric felt hot moisture building in the corners of his eyes. The knowledge that Kyle resisted eased the pain, but it crippled his heart nonetheless.

"He told me as much …" Robin whispered, glancing down at Kyle's limp body. The redhead was asleep, his face serene. Robin turned to look at Eric's forlorn expression with a sense of finality. "I've had my revenge, Eric Cartman. I've taken his fidelity."

The confirmation of his suspicions wrenched a strangled cry from Eric's throat. He clutched at his hair, fighting valiantly against the painful sobs that wracked his lungs.

"You … bastard," he hissed. "Fine, you've had your fun. You've destroyed us—"

"Not quite," Robin interrupted, his voice firm. The edge of cruelty was absent from his tone and in its place was an odd sense of curiosity. "Tell me, Eric: Do you forgive him?"

Eric glared with red-rimmed eyes. "Of course I do." He spat the words with bitter vehemence. "It wasn't Kyle's fucking fault you played your mind games."

Robin frowned, sighing. "That's not what I meant." He paused when Eric narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I meant to say: Do you forgive him for having doubts? Because I wouldn't have been able to enter his mind if his misgivings didn't hold at least a semblance of truth."

The two stared at each other. Both felt the strain of their connection wearing on as they prolonged their interaction.

"Everyone has doubts …" Eric finally murmured. He glanced at Kyle's sleeping form. "Even I've had them. I don't give a damn if you exploited Kyle because of that."

Robin smiled. It was a genuine smile, one of profound wonder. "He told me you would forgive him," he said, his voice soft. "Rest assured, Eric Cartman, he never once stopped loving you. Let me tell you one curious thing:

"You two are soul mates. I can sense it. It's a very rare bond between human beings. Yours is simple, but resilient. For the rest of your lives, you will find rare happiness within one another."

Eric glanced up at Robin, eyes guarded. "Things can't possibly go back to the way they were. Soul mates or not, or whatever the hell we are, the damage is done."

Robin chuckled. "Yes. But I will give you a choice." Holding up an envelope, Robin continued to speak, "I can rewind the clock and make it so that you never interrupted my rest, but in half a year's time, you and your love will both find identical envelopes. What you will find inside will trigger your memories of these past events, but it will only occur to you both as lost images of time. They will bear the same weight as they do now, but consider it as a 'What if,' a separate reality that should have occurred, but didn't."

Robin shrugged, flicking his wrist, making the envelope disappear. "Infidelity is a funny thing. Whether real or hypothetical, it has the power to destroy even a love as faithful as yours. If you take this deal, you are turning this reality into a hypothetical truth. It may not have happened, but the realization will hang heavy in the back of your minds that it could have happened. Something as weighty as that may very well haunt you both for the rest of your lives." Robin laughed. "You human beings are strange things."

Eric frowned. "What's the catch? Isn't there always a catch when you make deals like these?"

"You're perceptive," Robin commented, glad that he need not explain that aspect of having a bargain. "All I want is one simple thing: your brand of immortality."

Stiffening, Eric crossed his arms. "Steep. That is a fucking steep deal. Didn't you tell me that my brand was the only thing preventing you from harming me?"

"Indeed, yes," Robin remarked with amusement. "But rest assured, I know for a fact that our paths will never cross again. And if you doubt me, why not stay in your little mountain town forever?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? No thanks, asshole," Eric snapped. He paused for a moment, assessing Robin with hard eyes. "Can you tell a lie?"

Robin smiled. "No."

A smirk graced Eric's lips. "That's why you want my brand."

"Very sharp," Robin muttered. "Very sharp indeed."

"So if I asked you anything," Eric mused, "you would be able to tell me the truth. You wouldn't be able to lie."

"Yes. But careful, Eric," Robin warned, the cruel edge resurfacing in his voice. "There is knowledge in this world not fit for the human mind. Our connection is waning. Make your choice now."

Eric watched Robin, attempting to decipher any meaning behind that beautiful face.

"What are you?"

"An immortal being."

Eric frowned, but chose not to argue. Their time was short.

"If you take my brand, will you come anywhere near us again?"

"No, Eric Cartman. I will not."

Eric watched Robin, feeling the familiar sensation of sleep coming over him.

"Fuck your knowledge," he spoke with finality. "It's worth nothing if I don't have Kyle."

Robin smiled. "Then find your peace. Your brand is mine forever."


Months later, in a separate reality, Eric found a white envelope sitting on the kitchen counter of the apartment.

Upon opening it, he found a lone Tarot card.

XVII. La Lune.


If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended:

That you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear, and this weak and idle theme no more yielding but a dream.

Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.

And as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck, now to 'scape the serpent's tongue we shall make amends ere long.

Else the Puck a liar call.

So good night unto you all. Give me your hands if we be friends.

And Robin shall restore amends.

(William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Puck's Soliloquy)

Disclaimer: Metamotivation owns no part of the South Park franchise.