Ahoy!

This is late. This needs to be proofread. Also this sucks. I have no idea what I'm doing.

Now, let's try this again.


It's gnarled and blackened, branches bare, reaching high hopelessly towards a nonexistent sun. Perhaps it had once been a powerful sight, yet now one would think death had claimed it long ago if not for the bed of vibrant leaves beneath it. It was as if whenever this old tree grew any leaves they'd fall right off.

You think it's strange to see a tree down here, strange but not impossible it seems.

"Is that a house?" Your brother's young voice echoes out a question from the confines of his metal body and you turn around to face him, but he's not there. With a slight start you realize you had been so distracted by the tree you hadn't noticed your brother had continued forward until he was far past you, his gaze resolutely fixed on the tidy house before him. You hadn't actually paid it much attention when you first entered, nor did you think it was much to look at now either. It didn't stand out from its surroundings, taking on the same shade of purple for the entirety of its bricks. The house was a small structure, or at least it appeared to be small and cozy, you couldn't know how far the building extended without entering. Upon its front were two darkened windows separated by an empty doorway. Beneath these windows, beds of bright red leaves lay dried and listless. A large silver sign hangs high up over the doorway, offering up words you can't quite read.

All in all it's a bit too bland for your tastes.

"Weird..." A short pause breaks his speech before he continues, his tone ambivalent. "...do you think the person who made those puzzles lives here?"

You shrug in response, portraying nonchalance even though you didn't really want to meet someone who spent all of their time underground making puzzles by themselves.

"Maybe the brat is in there?" You offer up with another shrug of your shoulders while approaching the structure.

You make a move to enter the building but Al stops you with a hesitant protest.

"Shouldn't we knock...?"

"What? No. There isn't even a door anyway." Al makes a noise and you imagine his face scrunching up in displeasure. "Come on, Al, think about it, we don't want the brat's kidnapper to know we're coming in."

He seems satisfied by this response but doesn't appear to like the mention of the possible kidnapper scenario. You don't either.

It was only a matter of time, though, you were positive the kid was somewhere in that house. Soon the kid would be back, safe with...well, whoever left those flyers behind. Family? Maybe not, they seemed to be more out of necessity rather than actual concern.

A nagging feeling in the back of your mind back has you mull over your thoughts of the flyers once more, but you push them back and decide it's more important to find the kid first rather worry about what comes later.

You enter the house, your brother following behind you closely into the warmly lit room. The room is quite the contrast when compared to the rest of the area you and your brother had been exploring, no purples or bright greens in sight. A large railed staircase sits towards the middle of the room, taking up the most space. Two doorways stand upon the east and west side of the room. Pale walls and wooden floors seem clean and untouched. The house actually looked normal, not necessarily something you'd imagine belonging in a place like this.

A pleasant scent lingers in the air, it smells as if someone had been baking something recently.


You don't want to fight her.

So you don't.


Despite stilling your body and straining your ears, there's nothing to be heard here but the faint crackle of a fire you can just barely pick up. Breathing out a soft huff you glance towards the two doorways at opposite ends of the room, then towards the staircase. Beside you Al steps quietly as he can towards the west room, you feel yourself tense as you listen to his footsteps echo further into the room. Then he's back, you aren't sure how much time had passed but it couldn't have been that long. He shakes his helmet slightly as he steps back into the room. Al then shifts his glowing gaze towards the staircase, then fixes it back on you silently. There's no need to question aloud what he wants you to do. A small nod and you're off, going down step by step. You can already hear Al making his way to the east door, his steps aren't quite as careful as before but, then again, neither are yours.

You run out of stairs pretty quickly. They cut off into a bare corridor that extends much further than you had expected. A moment passes, then a chill makes it's way down your back, you shiver involuntarily. A foreboding feeling curls up in your stomach, settling down as a hard pit and your breath stutters for a moment. With a shake of your head your braid thumps against your left shoulder plaintively, and you're moving faster.

You hear something.

You speed up, narrowing your eyes to glare at the dim lighting of the hall. A clap of your hands and you've transmuted your blade from your automail. It's not so quiet down here anymore. You're sure of it now, you can hear someone talking. An adult. They sound like they're getting frustrated. The hall takes a turn.

Fire lights the chamber in a golden light.

Your measured steps become a determined sprint.

A bipedal chimera looms over a small scorched figure wearing a striped sweater. The child. They waver in their stance, narrowly avoiding a ball of flame as they suddenly turn around, and take a step in the wrong direction.

The chimera spots you a second too late.

Your blade meets flesh, sinking deep into the body before you. Something sickeningly warm paints your face in a splash, running down your cheeks like discolored tears. Your breath catches in your throat, suddenly you can't breathe, you can't move.

Everything is silent for that single second as if time itself froze with you.

The next second is accompanied by a wet rattling wheeze that strains out from a pair of failing lungs.
You had been aiming low.
Shocked hysterical sobs reach your ears but they suddenly seem so distant and muted, like they were buried behind a dense wall you had no hope of breaking.
You had been trying to force the chimera to move away.
There's a dull thump, along with it a slight jolt of your arm is jarred forcefully to a stop by the cage your blade is caught in.
You're ridged, stuck gaping at a rapidly paling face, small hands pawing feebly at your arm. They tug and tug but they can't get a grip, fragile little fingers slipping again and again on the red that just keeps coming and coming.
This isn't what you wanted.
This certainly isn't what you had intended.
You're on your knees.
You don't know when that happened.
A little floating heart flutters weakly just above your outstretched arm.
You don't know when that came to be either.
It's red, just like your arm, and the fingers, and the ground and it's dimming faster and faster.

The little hands find purchase on your jacket.

Your pulled closer to the child, they don't seem to mind the metal scraping their ribs and churning up another gush of blood from their chest. Their small shivering red hands release your jacket and move to cup your wet cheeks. Fat tears are wiped from your face carefully. You can feel yourself shaking.

"N-no...I...shit I-I didn't mean t-to...you..ohnono please. I'm sorry I'm sorryImsorryImsorry.."

A torrent of futile apologies tumble from your lips, none any louder than a whisper into the space between you and the child. The full weight of what you've just done crushes down upon you, you're left heaving sobs of disbelief, your trusty transmuted blade still cradled deep within the child's chest.

They're smiling softly at you, their lips bloodied by a wet cough that shakes their entire frame. Sympathy residing in their actions as they bring a shaking little hand up flat and touch the side of their forehead with the tips of their fingers twice, their next movement is lost, consumed by shudders the little hand drops.

The hovering red heart struggles briefly, fluttering in vain as the child slumps backwards with a sickening wet squelch as your blade is wrenched from their limp body. You're moving forward to catch them before you register a loud abrupt CRACK and the little red heart is shatteri-

It's gnarled and blackened, branches bare, reaching high hopelessly towards a nonexistent sun. Perhaps it had once been a powerful sight, yet now one would think death had claimed it long ago if not for the bed of vibrant leaves beneath it. It was as if whenever this old tree grew any leaves they'd fall right off.

You think it's strange to see a tree down here, strange but not impossible it seems.

"...Ah, is that a house?" Your brother's young voice echoes out a question from the confides of his metal body and you turn around to face him, but he's not there. With a slight start you realize you had been so distracted by the tree you hadn't noticed your brother had continued forward until he was far past you, his gaze resolutely fixed on the tidy house before him. You hadn't actually paid it much attention when you entered, nor did you think it was much to look at now either. It didn't stand out from its surroundings, taking on the same shade of purple for the entirety of its bricks. The house was a small structure, or at least it appeared to be small and cozy, you couldn't know how far the building extended without entering. Upon its front were two darkened windows separated by an empty doorway, beneath these windows beds of bright red leaves lay dried and listless. A large silver sign hangs high up over the doorway, offering up words you can't quite read.

All in all it's a bit too bland for your tastes.

...

There's a odd silence in which you wait for your little brother to continue talking.

"...Uh, should we go in..?" You can't help but feel as if that wasn't quite right, but you nod anyway, ignoring the sense of wrong that seemed to just pile up in your gut.

You make a move to enter the building, but you're stopped by a cold hand grasping at your shoulder, and pulling you back with a odd squeal.

"What th- Al?" He doesn't listen to your unhappy objections.

"Hello there!"

You're about to ask what exactly he thought he was doing when the question suddenly stills and forms a thick lump in your throat.

A small child wearing a striped sweater gazes passively at you from the doorway.


Shit, aint none of ya wanted to tell me about those embarrassing errors?