Hello again. I apologize for the delay. I know we're so close to being done! (YAY for chapter 50! Coincidentally, chapter 50 brought this baby to over 950 pages! Talk about insane; I never expected it to get this long!) To give you a rough idea, I expect it to be over before 60 chapters, and the epilogue is broken up over five chapters.
Your well wishes for my health have been greatly appreciated. We finally figured out what is wrong with me. If you're not interested, that's perfectly fine; go ahead and skip to the chapter, because from here on out is just an update for those who were worried.
After some X-rays of my core, I finally have an answer as to why I've had a fever for months and have been in so much pain. I'm currently in a stage of spinal decay. Ouch. I had two spinal surgeries about six years ago, when I was fifteen. I had the second surgery because they messed the first one up, which resulted in a lot of muscle and nerve damage. All down my spine, I currently have 2 metal rods, 23 three-inch screws, 3 bridges between the rods, and 3 hooks. I couldn't walk for a year, and it had been a slow recovery, but I was living fairly normally for a while until recently. Now the damaged nerves in my back are dying off and that's throwing my entire nervous system into crisis (hence all the issues). I'm currently experiencing nerve attacks and muscle spasms in all the unfused areas of my spine. The good news is all the pain in my shoulder blades isn't because my hardware was damaged! (We had feared something was wrong with the metal for a while, and I'm so thankful to learn that's not it!) It turns out I've been having sharp stabs of pain in my shoulders and when I breathe because, due to the damaged nerves essentially making my muscles play tug of war with my spine, I have a rib that keeps dislodging and ramming into the metal rod where it meets one of my vertebrae! It hurts like hell, but at least I don't have a screw loose (literally, haha... who knows if I have a screw loose mentally! XD Some would argue I do).
So please be patient with me. They think if I go through a year of intensive chiro-physical therapy with muscle work they can hopefully bring me out of a state of spinal regression. The decay is not to the point that they believe I can't be treated and maybe one day healed. I have three appointments a week right now, so it's going to be hard. I'm hopeful, just in a lot of pain and a bit sleep deprived in the meantime. I'm going along with their program, since the only alternative for me at this point is a third surgery to fuse the rest of my unfused spine. I don't know about you, but I like being a 21-year-old with at least a little spinal mobility! So, intensive therapy it is!
Writing is my way to cope with life, so I'm hoping this all won't interfere with my ability to keep the updates coming! It's mostly a matter of if I'm in too much pain to use a computer! That was mostly the case in this particularly delayed update; my nerve attacks were too severe.
Anyhoo, as always, your patience and support is really appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb.
CHAPTER FIFTY:
Slipping Through the Cracks
Their chances were less than grim. And that was saying something coming from Phineas.
Phineas had always been excellent with numbers (that was a must when one practiced alchemy), but just about now, he wished numbers didn't come so easily; because just off the top of his head, he counted nine meatlings, four gargoyles, and about three dozen snakes. There were only the four of them, standing back to back, facing the odds. There were seven arrows left in Baljeetolus' quiver and between the rest, three swords. Only one was magic and could damage the gargoyle's enchanted stone.
No, Phineas did not think the numbers boded well.
"Ferb," he breathed, just needing the reassurance of his brother's presence. Fingers brushed his arm in the briefest flutter, and that silent response was all Phineas needed to raise his sword. The meatlings were just about fully formed and the gargoyles lifted their talons, poised to strike.
And because Phineas had absolutely rotten luck, of course the first gargoyle charged right at him. In the time between when his brain registered the monster's movement and the realization that he had absolutely no way to fight it, Phineas felt the phantom throb of his ribs. Isabel had healed it, but he'd had a nasty bruise across his lungs from the last time he tried to fight a gargoyle, and he didn't stand any better of a chance now.
Then Ferb dashed in front of Phineas, parrying the swipe from its claws. Instinct tugged Phineas around, and as his brother protected his flank, he swung his sword. It was awkward and unnatural, and his left arm ached from the exertion, but he sliced through the snake diving toward them. Even as inexperienced as he was, Phineas was coordinated enough to keep those flying demons off Ferb's back.
Baljeetolus drew one of his final seven arrows, but instead of aiming for any one beast, he sent it flying toward a wall sconce. The arrow pierced the glass of the lamp and oil splattered on the two meatlings underneath. The arrow went up in flames, blackening to cinder until it fell—right on Baljeetolus' prey. The first meatling instantly caught fire. Its flailing arm bashed into the one beside it, and the second went up, too. The room filled with the putrid smell of burning meat.
"Down!" Bufavalous bellowed, and Phineas dove to the side before the brute was swinging his ax. He caught a snake mid-fire blast with the flat of his blade and sent it careening in the air toward another meatling. The snake smashed right into its chest and sunk deep into the meat. Phineas could only stare in awe as the meatling caught fire from the inside out.
"Now that's what I call heartburn," he muttered, and he was pleased with his wit until Bufavalous suddenly disappeared, plucked from the ground by a gargoyle.
"Pointy!" Bufavalous shrieked, writhing in the gargoyle's iron grip. With his free hand, he bashed his ax into the gargoyle's head over and over, but the blade merely skidded off, barely leaving a scratch. Phineas screamed as the gargoyle slammed Bufavalous down, pinning him under his talons, and the brute went still. Ferb was fighting another gargoyle by himself, in no position to help. No one could help. No one but him, Phineas realized.
Phineas didn't even have the luxury to think before he charged. It didn't matter that he couldn't do anything against a gargoyle. It didn't matter that he couldn't even fight. He wouldn't stand still and let Bufavalous die.
An arrow bounced harmlessly off the gargoyle's head as Phineas jumped on its arm, trying his best to wrestle it free from his friend, but the gargoyle didn't budge an inch from his efforts. Then the creature suddenly let Bufavalous go—pinning the brute with its other hand—and flung its arm. Phineas yelped as he fell off, rolling to the ground. He scrambled back, looking for anything to help him, but the monster seized him by his waist.
Phineas knew what would happen: the gargoyle was going to throw him. If the snakes didn't get him first, the inevitable moment when his body smashed into a wall would. He tried to dig his fingers into the ruts in the stone floor, to drag himself free, but all he could find purchase on was the bent shaft of Baljeetolus' s arrow before the gargoyle yanked him from the ground.
Well... the arrow would never fly again, and it wasn't like he had any other options.
The gargoyle lifted him up with a snarl, and Phineas did the only thing he could: he plunged the arrow directly into the gargoyle's eye. He didn't expect it to work. Honest to god, he was just that desperate; but to his amazement, the arrow sunk into its glowing eye all the way up to his fist. The gargoyle dropped him as it roared and thrashed, and Phineas landed in a crouch. It released Bufavalous as it staggered back, its talons snapping off the shaft of the arrow, but unable to claw out the tip deep within its eye.
"Byoof!" Phineas cried, lunging forward and pulling Bufavalous into a sitting condition. It looked so bad, when the gargoyle slammed him down like it had, and Phineas was almost in tears until Bufavalous groaned and swatted his hands away.
"I'm good, I'm good. Just—just need my ax."
Speaking of which, Phineas needed to recover his sword, too. They both clambered for their weapons, before jumping back as the gargoyle he'd maimed let out another roar—and charged. Phineas rolled to the side and at least the gargoyle seemed clumsier now, because it careened. Could stone beasts lose balance when partially blinded? It appeared so. And it struck some of the snakes flying through the air as it recklessly thrashed. Even though Phineas hadn't managed to take it down, at least he was responsible for three snakes' demise when they flew too close.
Phineas automatically scanned the room for Ferb. To the left, he registered that Baljeetolus sent another meatling up in flames. How, he didn't know, and he didn't have the chance to check how the elf was faring because Bufavalous grabbed him by his collar and hauled him up.
"This ain't good," he called out. "We gotta get out of here."
Ferb finally emerged from behind the first gargoyle, Excaliferb glowing in his hand as he finished cleaving it through the stone. There were still three gargoyles left, but he had no chance to go after them with the swarm of snakes in the air. It was too chaotic; there was no way for them to get organized. The room was hot from four different fires and too much smoke was in the air. Smoke, plus whatever muck was being released as the meatlings burned. This room had no windows. It was about more than the sheer numbers; it was about basic survival.
"We cannot run from this," Baljeetolus called, retreating to the center of the room. He had three arrows left.
Ferb knew he was right. Bufavalous had taken a nasty hit. Phineas was still recovering from his encounter with Rogerick, if not in a wound then at least out of sheer exhaustion. They'd all killed themselves over getting here as quickly as possible, and they still had the prospect of facing Malifishmirtz ahead of them. Let alone finding Isabel... They couldn't exert all of their remaining energy fighting the lackeys now.
They needed a plan. But how to think as he dodged another blast of fire? Damn snake. He sliced it in two. He struck another snake down before turning on a meatling behind him. He slashed its fist off, but a new one began to form almost instantly.
Excaliferb glimmered gold in the firelight, and he could feel it humming with power. Ferb could imagine it enjoying all the magic it was absolving, like the monsters around him were nothing more than a magical feast for the blade to devour.
But his friends... He couldn't allow them to fight another gargoyle on their own, and the monsters just kept closing in. They could keep running down the hall—he could see a corridor stretching a long distance beyond—but the snakes were quicker, on their scaly wings. The beasts would soar ahead, and while they fought them, the meatlings and gargoyles would surely catch up. They needed to block the monsters. They needed a complete shift, a collapse.
Ferb ran his blade clean up the meatling's arm before his eyes flitted to the archway. This castle was old, no doubt about it. It had probably been the Malifishmirtz family's lair for generations, weathering years and years of dark magic and attacks and other unnatural things just biting away at its foundations. It was one of the first things he'd noticed when they'd arrived, as they ran through the halls: that the walls were covered with plenty of cracks, creeping their way up pillars and arches like intricate spider webs.
Another dodge. Another futile swipe at the meatling. Another snake.
"Ferb!"
It was Phineas, and he could hear the desperation in his brother's voice as he ran from both a snake and the rampaging damaged gargoyle, unable to take on the smaller creature when pursued by the other. They needed a solution. They needed a way out.
Ferb saw what he needed to do. It wasn't with his eyes, but with the way he felt when looking at Phineas. There was pain on his little brother's face, and suddenly Ferb realized that wonderful, wonderful yellow aura was thrumming with fear. It was like Ferb's mind clamped down on that yellow, needing any way to help it, and Ferb saw what he needed to do. He saw his little brother's future—or at least the next minute of it. He saw what he would do to escape.
"To me!" he called out, before rolling forward, kicking off the wall, and slicing the meatling's head off. It would only stun the creature for a few seconds, but it was better than nothing and he had no fire. "Through that arch, to the next room!"
"Easier said than done!" Bufavalous called as he took on another gargoyle. The brute wasn't really fighting, only barely managing to knock the swipes away. He was on the defensive, any counter-attack completely useless against his foe.
"Then prepare yourself," Baljeetolus declared, nocking an arrow straight at the gargoyle from across the room. He let it fly, and while it only ricocheted when it hit the gargoyle's nose, Bufavalous took the second opening to turn on his heel and run.
Ferb stood at the ready as all three of his friends closed in. This would hinge upon him, and he couldn't afford to be wrong.
"Go!" he yelled, and Phineas, Baljeetolus, and Bufavalous all rushed past him, into the room beyond.
"Ferb—" Phineas began, but Ferb was already in motion.
He'd always been a head taller than most of his peers. Add to that the length of his sword, and Ferb knew the archway didn't stand a chance. He brought Excaliferb up in an arc, slicing two sharp lines across the stone. Please be weak enough, he pled. Please be enough damage.
When they'd stayed at Eliza's house, Ferb had discovered that his grandpa Reginald had been a tinkerer. He liked designing and building tangible things, working with parts, constructing small nothings into incredible somethings.
The moment Ferb had learned this, he knew he'd inherited that gift. His brother was amazing at alchemy, at pushing the boundaries of science and nature, but Ferb was better with his hands. He knew structures. And he knew the importance of a capstone in holding up an arch.
Their enemies were closing in, but with one decisive thrust above him, Ferb drove Excaliferb into the capstone of the arch. The vorpal blade sunk cleanly into the stone as far as Ferb could reach, and when he pulled it back out, the aged stone disintegrated in his wake.
For the shortest, scariest second, nothing happened. Ferb hardly dared to breathe. Then cracks—deep, irrevocable cracks—splintered their way through the remaining stone. Ferb flung himself back, tackling his brother so he could shield him as the entire walkway crumbled. This was, after all, what he had seen. He would protect that beautiful aura in his arms.
Dust and debris filled the air. Somewhere to their side he heard Bufavalous and Baljeetolus coughing, but it took a moment for things to settle before Ferb could see them again. Glancing back, he marveled at what he'd accomplished: part of the ceiling and adjacent wall had collapsed, completely blocking off the room behind them.
Bufavalous took care of a snake that had made it through while Ferb spun away from the wreckage. He grabbed his brother by the wrist. His feet were already sprinting. He didn't know where in this godforsaken tower they were going; only that behind them was death and, perhaps, ahead of them was Isabel.
Through the debris, they could still hear the meatlings' roars. Ferb wasn't confident the collapse would keep the monsters back for long. He knew they couldn't run from Malifishmirtz's overwhelming forces. They could only try their best to get a head start.
Isabel lied in a pool of her own blood.
Pain, pain, pain. Her arm was sliced open and there was fire in her veins. There was an empty void inside of her bones and her chest was hollow. That was the only way to explain why she was nothing more than a ragdoll.
Even in the darkness, the room spun. Dizzy… blood… she closed her eyes.
After she drank that torturous potion, Malifishmirtz had released her chains and dragged her writhing body to the cauldron. She had no fight in her when he took her arm and—with her own dagger—slashed the blade across her wrist.
The small sliver of Isabel's mind that could still think wondered what Malifishmirtz would do if he knew Rogerick had already beaten him to this, too. Rogerick had fatally wounded her with her own dagger, slicing a line into the very same arm that the sorcerer did when he had captured her. Perhaps the two brothers were more similar than either of them had realized.
Although, Isabel supposed it didn't actually matter which of the brothers had been the first to the punch; Malifishmirtz, ultimately, would have the last laugh. It was the eldest brother, after all, that would kill her.
He held her wrist over the cauldron and simply let her bleed.
Why was death so painful? Wasn't it supposed to be over in a flash? A blink of light, a moment of panic, perhaps one inescapable flutter of agony, before nothing at all? Isabel always thought that was what death was supposed to be like, but this was only a half-truth.
Isabel didn't see her whole life flash in front of her eyes. She just saw four faces. Bufavalous' was cranky, as usual. Baljeetolus looked exasperated, like he did when the brute said something stupid—also as usual. Phineas was all grin and he held sunshine in his eyes. And Ferb, she saw Ferb's smirk. It was the expression he wore in quiet times, when nothing in particular was happening. It was a lazy sort of smirk, one that accompanied late nights of drawings and secrets.
Maybe it was being closer to the fumes, maybe it was the potion tearing her insides apart, and maybe it was this sudden loss of blood, but that was the end for her. She'd finally reached the point where it was too much. She could be strong no more.
But that was where death was a half-truth. Because despite that, here Isabel lie, in a pool of her own blood. She wasn't dead yet.
Things had drifted in and out of focus. Her body had been thrown down when Malifishmirtz was finished with her. She bled on the cold, cobbled floor as darkness swallowed her. Then she'd surfaced again and her vision swam with images of a dark corridor. Her body wouldn't respond to her. She couldn't move at all. She was empty as she was dragged away and the darkness closed in again.
Still, she didn't die. That was obvious now, as she woke up again, sticky with her blood. Her life was pain, but she was still alive. She didn't know if that was because she was strong enough to live or, at this point, unlucky enough to finally die. It did seem the inevitable outcome, after all.
"Isabel…"
And apparently she was losing her mind. Or maybe she was dying now, after all; because it was Vanessa's voice she heard. Perhaps that was fitting. Vanessa was a deity. Maybe fairies returned to the Lady of the Lake when they died. Maybe that was happening right now. Vanessa was here to guide her.
Her eyes opened again. She was in a small room. In her line of sight, she could see a single wall sconce that dimly lit the space. The walls and floor were the same stark black. Malifishmirtz brought me here to die, she thought. She was no good bleeding out in his throne room. Much better to let her rot in whatever room this was, forgotten. He had her magic, and she would be a burden on him no more. She let her eyes close.
"Isabel…"
Vanessa's voice was just as faint as it was before. It sounded hollow, tinny, like vibrating metal. Though Isabel's senses were hardly functioning, she could swear the sound was resonating from the ground. From all around her, certainly, but definitely from the ground. Even under her cheek.
But then again, she was surrounded by puddles of blood, wasn't she? Could the Lady of the Puddle…? Was that possible?
"Isabel…"
Isabel couldn't speak, but she managed a weak groan. She still wasn't convinced she wasn't hearing things. And then:
"You're alive! I'm so relieved!"
Isabel felt so incredibly cold, her mouth so dry, but Vanessa was talking to her! Even in this dark, evil place, the Lady of the Puddle had still found a way to reach her.
"Va… nessa," Isabel managed, and even that much effort made her head spin.
"No fairy has ever survived drinking that potion, Isabel," Vanessa's voice hummed. "I don't even know what to think. This… really, this has never happened before."
Isabel had always liked that Vanessa was never formal with her. The Lady of the Puddle was probably the first person Isabel could genuinely call a friend, even before Ferb. She'd been kind to Isabel in a sea of indifferent sprites, and Isabel had treasured that. And now here she was again, providing comfort in Isabel's personal hell. Even though she was dying, feeling like Vanessa was with her made Isabel feel a little better.
"…Found me…" Isabel mumbled, letting her eyes close once again. Vanessa had found her. She wouldn't die alone.
"Ferb asked me to, and despite how mad my mother will be when she finds out, I realized he was right. I had to find you, Isabel. I had to fight for you, in my own way, just like he's fighting for you now. It's almost funny." The pool of blood rippled with Vanessa's small laugh. "Even though I'm a goddess, he showed me that."
Ferb. The name was like a sip of tea, warming her from the insides out. Ferb asked Vanessa to find me. Ferb's fighting to find me, too. She found the strength for her fingers to twitch before she once again went still. That was right. That was why she had to survive. Ferb would never forgive her if she let herself die.
But still… she was so incredibly weak.
"You have to hold on, Isabel. Ferb and the others are here, in this castle. They're looking for you as we speak, so please, please hold on."
They were here? Now she definitely had to stay alive. She wouldn't let Ferb find her lifeless body. And Phineas, if she did that to her alchemist, he'd never be able to sleep at night. No, she couldn't put her family through that.
Her boys… They had to be the reason why, despite all odds, she'd lasted this long. It had been their strength she'd drawn on, hadn't it? It was the only explanation she could come up with. Or had it been Vanessa? Had Vanessa used magic? Was that how she was alive?
"Did—you?" came from her mouth, before she coughed and a whole knew wave of pain drowned all her nerves. Still, she blinked her eyes open. She wanted to see her friend's face, but Vanessa wasn't there, so she focused on the pool of red surrounding her sliced wrist. She saw the dark liquid ripple with Vanessa's every word.
"I didn't save you," came the goddess' answer. "I wish I could have. I wish I prevented this! But I only found you Isabel; I didn't sustain you or keep you alive."
Isabel finally managed to curl her fingers, staring blankly at the skin at her wrist. It was painted red, and it glistened in the light of the fire. It was almost beautiful…
"Isabel, stay with me!" the puddle snapped, and Isabel forced herself to blink. She was on the edge of slipping under, she knew. It was such an effort to be alive. If she didn't keep up this conversation, she would slip through the cracks entirely.
"M-magic?" It was barely a whisper.
The puddles practically hummed in thought, before Vanessa's voice rose from them again: "I can't sense any magic at work. And… well, you don't have any magic left, either, Isabel. I'm sorry. He took it all. I can't really say how you survived, but this is completely on you."
Vanessa hadn't healed her? She'd survived on her own? That just didn't seem plausible. She was determined, of course, but Isabel doubted her determination alone could overcome an ancient spell. The fairies of the past must have been determined to survive, too, so she couldn't explain how she, out of all of them, made it. The only real difference was…
Oh.
Oh.
It was blood magic. Malifishmirtz drained her magic through her blood, by bleeding her into the potion. Her blood was both the catalyst to the alchemy and the channel through which her magic left her body. And Isabel supposed her blood was unlike any fairies' before in one simple way: there was much more of it.
Because even though Isabel was a fairy, she had the body of a human, and everything that came with it. Malifishmirtz must have needed to drain every last drop of blood from a normal fairy for his spell, but Isabel had so much more blood to give. He'd taken what he needed, and though she was dizzy and slowly bleeding out, she was still alive.
Malifishmirtz must not have thought twice about it. That was why he'd discarded her. It wasn't like she could do anything now, so he was leaving her to her painful decline.
And despite everything—her agony, her dizziness, her fatigue—Isabel managed to smile. It was so incredible that it was almost hilarious. Painfully, wondrously hilarious.
Because despite what Vanessa said, in the end, the Lady of the Puddle had indeed saved Isabel's life. It was her botched spell, after all, that had changed everything. Vanessa had given her this journey with Ferb, and now she'd given Isabel her life, too, on this very day. To think poison and a botched spell, a mistake, would be the best thing to ever happen to her. Vanessa had saved her life then from that fog and now saved her again from that inky, black cauldron. Her oldest friend…
"Thank you," she grumbled as her eyes drifted shut. Her mind felt so heavy even though her body felt so light, so cold. "Vanessa… thank you."
Everything went dark again to the sound of the goddess' pleas for her to stay awake.
Then she heard footsteps. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it could have been only minutes, considering she was still alive. Every second, her life drained out of her. Death ran its fingers through her hair. But it was unmistakable: patter, patter. Patter, patter. This was the sound of people in flight. Not monsters. People.
"Ferb, it goes over here!"
God, oh my god. It was Phineas. Phineas. She heard his voice carry through the halls and if she had the strength to move, she would smile. She would cry out in sheer joy! She never thought she'd hear him again.
"Come, Ferbalot," Vanessa's voice vibrated again through the blood. "She's this way."
The door banged open and a few pairs of boots came into Isabel's languid view.
That was when she heard it: "Bel."
It was Ferb, and Isabel felt right again. It didn't matter that she was dying, because she didn't think anything could be better than this moment, hearing him. Suddenly her body was being lifted from the ground, cradled against his chest. She couldn't really see anymore, but she knew it was him. Nothing would ever be able to take away her ability to recognize this touch.
"Baljeetolus!" he demanded, and another pair of hands, these ones smaller and cooler, took her wrist. Silent tears streamed down her face, but she was in such a constant, throbbing state of pain that she didn't even feel it as his fingers examined her wound.
"It is not large, but clearly she has lost a lot of blood. We must wrap it immediately, but—"
"No, that ain't enough," Bufavalous barked. "You know it, Shrimpy! This is bad."
There was a moment of silence. Isabel didn't know what was going on; only that Ferb was stroking her cheek. Even though she couldn't see it, she felt his gaze taking in every inch of her face.
He found me.
"Yes, yes, you are right," Baljeetolus responded. "I do not like it, but—yes, of course. I will start the fire. Begin sanitizing your blade. Phineas, watch the door. And Ferb… you will need to hold her down."
She needed to see him. It was no longer an option. She had to. Her mind swam through the muck, and she closed her eyes, steeling her resolve. She would be strong enough for this. Then she opened them again, and though he was still blurry, she could make out his face. He looked like hell, gazing down at her, but when he realized she was looking at him—was seeing him—he burst into sobs.
"Ferb…" And despite everything, she lifted her hand. It took everything she had left, but just to feel his skin, wet with tears, was worth it.
A small, fragile smile gifted those beautiful lips of his. "I'm here."
She couldn't manage to respond, but with Ferb she didn't need to. He knew how much hearing those words would mean to her. That was why he said them, after all. He was here.
He was here.
Her fingers left trails of blood on his cheek before her vision once again went black.
It was the blood that did it. Her blood changed everything.
They just kept running after the wall collapsed, following Ferb's lead, turning down one hall, charging up stairs only to find another corridor. All they could do was run from the monsters they'd left behind.
When he was lost in the forest after Cantere, Ferb had followed his instincts. Despite all logic otherwise, his nymph senses had tugged his feet west, and he'd found the tree nymphs that taught him about his mother. His auracle nature had led him to where he needed to be.
Ferb didn't feel then same surety as he did then. There was no burning conviction in his gut that guided his direction; but he had no choice but to trust himself and hope he was running the right way. It was the best chance they had.
Then he saw it: a small glimmer in this dark place. At first Ferb thought it was a coin reflecting in the light of the fires on the walls, but then something else glimmered beyond it. A flitter of light, then another. Ferb blinked, wondering if he'd hit his head, because he could swear little twinkles of light trailed on the ground down another hall.
Why the hell not? It wasn't the strangest thing they'd seen.
He took off in their direction, and it wasn't until he was crouched over what he first thought was a coin that he realized it was a small puddle of blood. Beyond it, where he'd seen the small twinkles, was really just a trail of dark red drops.
"Whoa man," Bufavalous breathed. "I think that gargoyle hit me too hard."
"No, no," Baljeetolus assured him, "I see them too. The flashes. This is blood, is it not?"
"It's Vanessa," Phineas said, which gained all of their attention. He turned to Ferb. "Remember, the night she turned Isabel human? It rained, and all through the night, she made puddles light up like this until she guided us to that barn. This has to be her! She's guiding us to Isabel now!"
"Or it's Malifishmirtz," Bufavalous countered, "trying to lead us to our deaths."
Ferb stared down at the blood. It could be a trap. He wouldn't put Malifishmirtz past such tricks. But Vanessa… he had to believe she wouldn't walk away so easily. He had to believe this was her, helping them all one final time.
"I'm following it," he declared, standing tall and facing them. "It could lead to a trap, but it could also lead to Isabel. I'm going."
There was a moment of silence. Then Bufavalous sighed. He hefted his ax up onto his shoulder and shrugged. "Then I guess that's that."
Ferb blinked at him. He hadn't expected the brute to concede so easily. He wasn't prepared for what he saw when he glanced at the others, either: their unyielding loyalty. Their unwavering trust in him as their leader.
"Well, Green?" Bufavalous demanded, giving him a light push in the chest. "Move it. Let's find her."
Find her. The effect of those two words on their small group was immense. All of their fatigue, their bumps and bruises: none of that mattered in the face of this one possibility. They rushed down the halls, following the trail of blood. It led to a deeper part of the castle. Ferb couldn't help but think of it as the dark heart of the tower. After all, that was the most appropriate place for blood.
Phineas pointed down a side corridor.
"Ferb, it goes over here!"
No sooner had he said that before another voice spoke. It sounded different than it had earlier, when they'd spoken to her in the fresh dirt and clean puddles of the woods, but there was no mistaking the goddess.
"Come, Ferbalot. She's this way."
Ferb's brain almost shut down with the haunting presence of a flashback: Vanessa's voice yet again, in such a similar intonation, beckoning him deeper into the dark recesses of a cave. Ferbalot... she'd called to him. The object you seek is near. Come this way. At the time, he'd coveted Excaliferb. The deity had declared it would be the instrument to bring Malifishmirtz's demise.
What Ferb sought now was more precious than any magic sword, though, no matter how powerful. He burst through the door.
And he saw her.
"Bel."
His legs almost gave out on him. If not for Bufavalous' sudden grip on his arm, they probably would have. Because he finally found her. He found her—and she was bathing in a crimson pool of blood.
It was like watching Phineas get stabbed all over again.
It was like his own blood had been replaced with molten lava, the amount of fury and raw vengeance that coursed through his veins.
It was like his spine had been replaced by steel.
He'd found her, and no matter what, now that he had, he refused to break.
He dove forward and scooped her into his arms. God, she was freezing, her skin icy to the touch. Had Malifishmirtz just dumped her body here, left her on this stone floor to bleed out and rot?
Ferb was going to fucking kill him. He was going to tear him apart. That goddamn sorcerer would leave the earth knowing there was no mercy for him, and the last thing he would see was Ferb's remorseless face. He would—
She blinked. She blinked, and that meant she was alive, and she was staring up at him, no matter how dazedly. Her breaths were shallow, but he could feel them against his face in soft, little puffs. He scanned her whole body, and quickly found the gash on her wrist.
Shit.
"Baljeetolus!"
The elf rushed in and took her wrist. While he studied the injury, Ferb studied her face. She didn't seem capable of seeing him, even with her eyes open. She'd bled so much already… But my god, there were tears streaming from her eyes.
Remorseless. Yes. That was exactly how Malifishmirtz's death would be.
"It is not bad," Baljeetolus decreed, "but clearly she has lost a lot of blood. We must wrap it immediately, but—"
"No, even that ain't enough," Bufavalous cut him off. "You know it, Shrimpy! This is bad."
Yes, it was bad. Ferb could tell that as he wiped the tears from that beautiful face of hers. Could she feel his warmth? Did she know he was here? That he had her? That he would never, ever, ever let her go?
"Yes, yes, you are right," Baljeetolus agreed. "I do not like it, but—yes, of course. I will start the fire. Begin sanitizing your blade. Phineas, you watch the door. And Ferb… you will need to hold her down."
She languidly closed her eyes, and Ferb's gaze shot up to Baljeetolus. Was the elf planning what he thought he was? Judging by both the elf's and Bufavalous' grim expressions, Ferb realized he knew exactly what they intended.
They would cauterize the wound.
Bufavalous was already hastily making preparations, snapping Baljeetolus' second-to-last arrow. He began tearing off strips of his cloak, too, giving the Jeet Root more to burn. His blade would have to be hot, after all.
Ferb looked back down to Isabel just as she opened her eyes. Her gaze, which had been so glossy and unclear, was focused on him. Really, truly focused on him. She knew he was there, holding her, and that fact knocked the wind completely out of him. Those crystal blues hit something deep in him, took hold, and unleashed a torrent of emotion he couldn't hold back.
For the second time that day, Ferb burst into tears.
"Ferb…"
It was her voice, but it was so much more than that. It was her hand, her fingers warm and wet against his cheek as she stared up at him with what he could only describe as love. He was a wreck under that gaze, smiling and crying and not even knowing what to do with himself.
"I'm here," he assured her. He'd always be here, was what he wanted to tell her, as long as she'd have him. That was all he could say, though, because then her hand fell and she once again went still. She looked as though she'd passed out; and if Ferb were to be honest, he hoped she had. Speaking from personal experience, he didn't want her awake for what was to come next.
"You'll have to hold her still," came Bufavalous' haunting words. "Even if she screams and thrashes, you'll have to hold her down. Can you handle that, Ferb?"
A jolt went up Ferb's spine, and he stared at Bufavalous over his shoulder. The brute still held the tip of Phineas' sword in the fire he'd built, but his face was steely. Although, that wasn't what shocked Ferb. No, it was in Bufavalous' words themselves. He didn't think Bufavalous had ever called him by his first name.
No, no, that wasn't right… Bufavalous had called him Ferb when he was trying to snap him out of his shock after Isabel had been taken. But still, this was definitely a recent change. He didn't know what it was about Bufavalous and those nicknames of his—whether it was to try and keep himself from getting too close to people or what—but after so long of traveling with him, not being addressed as Green or Lover Boy or punk or chump or some other affectionately derogatory term was downright… weird.
"I said can you handle it?" Bufavalous barked, even more hotly, and Ferb forced himself to swallow. He'd let emotions bubble up and consume him, but he couldn't let that go any further. He had to push that back down, regain his resolve, and do what they needed to do.
Two deep breaths, and Ferb nodded. But… could he handle this? This, in particular? He suddenly wasn't so sure.
Baljeetolus just finished digging through Bufavalous bag, and Ferb watched, perplexed, as the elf produced a small jar. Then Ferb recognized it: the burn salve that Irving had given them in Amias. He hadn't even known they still had that, let alone there was any left.
"We will have to scrape the sides," Baljeetolus explained when he caught Ferb's look. "We did empty it treating our burn wounds, but I thought there was perhaps a trace we can apply to Isabel's injury now. It will not heal it, as it is designed for burns, but it should at least fight off infection before we seal the wound altogether."
"Not to mention we're melting her skin together," Phineas mumbled by the door, almost to himself. "Has to help with that too, right?"
Opening the jar, Baljeetolus peered inside. With the tip of his final arrow, he scraped some of the salve off the very bottom of the jar. He didn't say anything further before he smeared some of the medicine on Isabel's wound. She didn't even stir. Ferb didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
Bufavalous stood and Phineas doubled over by the door, shrinking in on himself. Ferb didn't understand why until he heard his brother mutter, "Hate this part. I hate this part."
Because of course his brother had had to hold him down as Bufavalous cauterized his own gaping wound in his chest. This time it was Ferb's job, though. If Phineas could hold him down, he could do the same for Isabel. He could. He could. Right?
He laid her flat, brushing her hair from her face before he gently tucked her body between his legs. He held her injured arm off to the side, giving Bufavalous ample room to work.
But then Bufavalous was coming at them with a burning-hot blade, and Ferb's heart panged with alarm so painful and violent that he reared back. All his resolve seemed nothing compared to the memory of how much this hurt—and now he was doing it to Isabel.
He could fight a hundred monsters, storm a cursed castle, stare a twisted sorcerer down in a duel to the death. But hold a writhing Isabel in place while Bufavalous melted her skin together? That took a different kind of strength and he realized all too suddenly that he couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this.
Panic, irrational, uncontrollable panic sent his whole mind on tilt. It felt like he'd been hit with a spear again. It felt like he was burning again, and he couldn't breathe. He gasped for air, but he swore he couldn't breathe. He knew what it was to have a wound cauterized, he knew. How could he hold Isabel down while they did the same to her?
He wasn't sure how he looked, but instantly Baljeetolus was there, slapping Ferb's hands away, securing Isabel's wrist, commanding him to look away, to not think about what they were doing, and to just hold on.
Ferb barely heard any of it until Isabel was suddenly writhing in his arms, and he finally registered the last part of Baljeetolus' words: hold on. So he did. He held onto Isabel so tightly, burying his face in her hair as he folded himself protectively over her.
And it was over. Baljeetolus was scraping more salve out to cover the wound and wrapping it up; but even though it was over, Ferb couldn't stop shaking. His whole body trembled with the phantom pains of wounds he once felt.
But it was over. He was fine, he chided himself. He was fine, and this was stupid and irrational. This shouldn't bother him. He'd survived, after all. This shouldn't have gotten the better of him.
Then he felt Phineas' arm around his shoulder.
"Hey, deep breaths, bro."
Right. Yes, of course: slowing his breathing was step one. He had to rein that in. But how? It seemed entirely beyond his control. He was still gasping, shaking, he couldn't think.
"Hey?" Phineas said, gentler now as he leaned into Ferb's vision. "Match your breathing to mine, okay? Slowly, in and out."
Phineas took slow, exaggerated breaths, and despite how simple it was, Ferb found trying to match his shattered breathing to his brother's actually worked to calm him down. That irrational wave of panic and terror that had consumed Ferb began to drain away.
Ferb had never experienced anything like the last couple minutes: such overwhelming panic, a survival instinct that, though he was perfectly safe and fine, told him his life was in danger. He hadn't been prepared for that kind of trauma to sneak up right behind him and seize him by the throat. It was unlike any kind of fear he felt before, like his muscles themselves had a memory they were holding onto and refused to let go.
Worst of all, he hadn't been able to do his job; but he supposed maybe that was what family was for: to catch you when you couldn't be strong. Bufavalous and Baljeetolus were every bit a part of his family now as he could claim anyone else was, and they'd stepped in when he hadn't been able to step up. They were always doing that, it seemed.
"Yo, Green," Bufavalous cut into Ferb's thoughts. "You okay? What was that just now?"
Ferb shook his head. He didn't know how to explain it, and the surge of terror left as quickly as it came. Granted, that raw burst of fear left him feeling sore and exposed, every nerve scraped and throbbing, but it was over. He was fine. Isabel was fine. It was literally like a flash flood of all-consuming panic the moment he saw that hot blade, but now it was gone. How would that make sense to anyone else?
But something changed in Bufavalous' expression. It was a weathered sort of understanding. He clapped his hand down on Ferb's shoulder, but didn't say anything else. Ferb thought he understood what that meant: that they all had ghosts. He was sure the brute had trauma of some sort, too. Maybe it had its own unique triggers and pitfalls. Maybe he navigated them in his own unique, cranky way, too.
"Is she okay?" Phineas asked in a choked voice, and Ferb was infinitely thankful they didn't push him on this further.
"That has yet to be seen," Baljeetolus replied. "I do not even presume to understand how she survived the magic removal process, and she has lost a significant amount of blood. I am not positive that even proper medical attention will make any difference at this point."
"And she can't heal herself," Phineas said. "She doesn't have magic, right? But if she can't heal herself, what, did Vanessa save her?"
They all went quiet, expecting Vanessa's response, but the Lady of the Puddle was quiet. Ferb wasn't so sure she was even there anymore; she'd done her part, and Ferb figured she'd pushed her ability to help way beyond she ever should have.
For once, Ferb felt his effort and strife as the Lady's champion had finally been repaid. It was worth every hardship for Vanessa to show up now, when he'd needed her most, and lead them to Isabel. That bitter resentment he felt at having been chosen in the first place began to unravel. Here was Isabel, after all, cradled in his lap. Breathing. On the cusp of death, but still breathing. Still fighting to carry on.
But something was wrong, and it wasn't until now that Ferb could really pinpoint it.
"I still can't sense her," he gasped, and his brother perked up beside him.
"Huh?"
"Isabel," Ferb clarified. "Her aura. When she'd been taken, I could feel it so strongly. I could feel her, the colors that were simply Isabel flooding my senses. But now it's all… gone."
"But she's alive," Phineas argued. "She's still breathing."
Ferb shook his head, pursing his lips in his confusion. "I know. It's just—I could have picked her out in a crowd of a thousand, Phineas. That was how I felt before, from the moment she collapsed. I could feel her with everything I had. Now those colors are gone, and I—I don't know. I'm not sure what it means. Is her aura really that weak?"
If it was, it would break him. It was clear from that army of monsters that Malifishmirtz took all of her magic. Plus if she still had it, she would have healed her wrist herself; it wasn't like it was too terribly deep. But this confirmed it: Isabel had no trace of magic left. What was a fairy without magic? Obviously this: so weak and empty he couldn't even sense her aura.
"Maybe… I don't know. Maybe we can get her magic back?" Phineas suggested. "Maybe that will return her strength, too. Or at the very least, she can use magic to heal herself!"
"Get her magic back?" Baljeetolus said, swiping his sleeve across his brow. "And how, precisely, do you propose we do that?"
Well, that was the golden question, wasn't it? Malifishmirtz was already using her magic, but didn't Baljeetolus say the spell took a lot of time? That Isabel's blood slowly broke down in some sort of poison, or something, and Malifishmirtz drew on it?
"We interrupt the spell," he declared, pounding his fist in his hand. "We fight him head on—well, I mean Ferb and Bufavalous do. And while they're doing that, I'm sure Baljeetolus and I can figure out a way to stop the blood magic. It takes a while, right? So maybe he hasn't absorbed all her magic yet. Maybe there's still something we can do!"
Baljeetolus' face fell. He didn't look convinced as he said, "But Phineas, that plan is based on a lot of assumptions! I know it is blood magic and that it takes a while, but there is no way for me to predict with accuracy how long it takes to absorb her magic! He could be done by now, and then what?"
Phineas pursed his lips. Everyone's eyes were on him, and even though he thought about Baljeetolus' words, he was still committed wholeheartedly to his idea. Isabel was so pale and weak, and he didn't know if she could survive without her magic. That had to mess with a fairy's anatomy, didn't it?
No, Phineas knew they had to at least try. If there was even the remote chance they could release her magic, that it could make her stronger or, best case, allow her to use some of that healing magic, then that was worth it, right there. And if it weakened Malifishmirtz in the process? Well, he thought their path was clear.
"Either way, we need to take Malifishmirtz on," he stated. "If there's still a chance to interrupt the spell, we'll take it. Otherwise…"
Otherwise… otherwise, what? Phineas wasn't sure he had an answer for that. Thankfully, his brother did.
"Otherwise," Ferb cut in, lifting Excaliferb, "we'll do this the old fashion way."
One way or another, this all ended tonight.
Review, please!
Honestly, I have no idea where that PTSD came from with Ferb XD I keep telling you guys I just let the characters hijack the story, and this is an example of that. I completely intended for Ferb to hold her down because that was what he needed to do, but suddenly when Byoof was coming, bam! Ferb ends up having a panic attack from when he'd been stabbed with that spear. Like I said in my last AN, I don't plan these things haha. At this point, the characters take on minds of their own, and morph and shape my writing along the way. I just go with the flow, writing whatever story their character arc actively forms. It's kind of a weird way to write, but I enjoy it. I hope you lot do too!
Like I said at the beginning of this chapter, please be patient with me. Life is hard right now, but I will do my best! In the meantime, reviews on my story are just about the best medicine any writer could ask for :)
Did that sound desperate? I don't even care! I do appreciate each and every review so much!
Until next time, wish me luck!
Love,
Lilly-Belle
