Together Forever, Part 1

Quick note: So most of this story is a fairly low-stress slice-of-life, but this arc will be much gnarlier, more violent, and way more disturbing than the rest of the story, for reasons that will soon become obvious. Just a head's up.

Also, since this arc will consist of mostly prewritten material from the story's original version, it'll roll out weekly for the next month or so until the arc is done.

…

No…

There's two of them! I need help over here! Please!

That's Sayaka. She changed into a witch. That's all witches are. They're us. It's all just a scam. This whole time, it was all a scam.

Kyoko, I need help! The witches seem to be fusing. Kyoko…wait, no! Don't give in!

Hehehehe, it was all a lie. All a lie. Ha ha ha ha ha, we're just dupes!

Kyoko, don't! KYOKO!

…

At first there was very little, just a confusing muddle of strangely familiar voices, flashes of confusing images, and names. They drifted through her head like fragments of a fading dream. In her semi-conscious state, she weakly tried to seize those fleeting pieces and put them together. They were trying to tell her something important, and if she just put them in the proper order she would know what it was.

Unfortunately, all of that was swiftly ejected from her mind when she realized that she was in unbelievable pain.

She awoke screaming, or at least she tried to, but the searing agony was so great that all she could manage was a desperate gasp. Red clouded her vision, driving away any semblance of rational thought and leaving her with nothing but mindless panic.

She tried to call for help, but the words were choked out in her throat. She tried to move, to flee to some place she could hide, but something was holding her in place, leaving her defenseless to the hot lances stabbing through her body. She slumped in defeat and sobbed in helplessness.

A trickle of awareness eventually cracked through the hazed of torment, drawing her attention to an important bit of information. As great as the pain was, it was focused on five specific points in her body, specifically her wrists, her feet, and the right side of her stomach. Forcing her eyes open, she narrowed her focus over to her right arm.

A strangled cry of shock and horror managed to escape her convulsing throat. Her arm was stretched out over a wooden beam, and a big, ugly nail of iron had been driven through her wrist, holding it in place.

She then looked to her left. The same had been done to her other arm.

The pieces started to come together in her mind. Gritting her teeth, she then looked down. It was still hard to see through the pain-induced fog, but she was able to confirm that her body was stretched across another beam of wood, with the plank holding her arms in place crossing it at a perpendicular angle. Furthermore, her feet were nailed together, one on top of the other. As for her side, what looked like a large spear with a triangular head had been driven through the flesh of her stomach, pinning her to the wood. She jerked back with a gasp as the terrible realization was driven into her mind as brutally as the nails had been driven into her body.

She was being crucified! Her mind was overwhelmed with a flood of panicked bits of information. Crucifixion, one of the cruelest manners of execution devised by man. The victim was suspended on a wooden cross, their wrists and feet nailed in place. From there, they would spend days exposed to the elements, slowly going mad from pain, hunger, and thirst, until the pressure on their hearts grew too great and they died of internal hemorrhaging.

Why though? Who had done this to her? What had she done to deserve this? She couldn't remember her crime, she couldn't even remember who she was! And now she was going to die without ever knowing why.

NO!

Her eyes narrowed, and she drew forth every bit of strength she could gather together. Gritting her teeth, she focused again on her right arm and the piece of metal stabbing through it. She then pushed out.

Immediately the pain rose up in response, almost driving her back into unconsciousness. She cried out but kept pushing. She didn't expect results, but she was not going to die without fighting back.

To her surprise, her wrist started to move across the nail's length. It hit the blunt head, but instead of being stopped by that, the nail started to move. Hope renewed within her and she shoved out with all her strength, her grunt of exertion rising up to a scream of defiance.

The nail trembled but kept moving. Every second was a nightmare, every centimeter a fresh new hell, but she kept pushing and pushing and pushing.

Then her arm was free! The force swung it across her body, causing her body to jerk up around the spear and cut deeper, but such was her relief that she barely noticed. She hastily brought her wrist to her mouth and seized the nail's head in her teeth. With one determined grunt she yanked it free and spat it out.

That done, she collapsed back, draping her free arm over the beam for support. Just doing that had almost taken everything she had out of her, and now she wanted nothing than to give into the swirling darkness that danced along the edges of her vision.

However, she couldn't give up now. Her eyes opened again and looked down. Freedom was in her grasp, and now her fear was slowly being consumed by the white-hot ball of rage that was growing inside her.

She reached down with her free hand and gripped the pole of the spear and yanked. The pain was still immense, but lesser than freeing her arm had been. It came away after only three tugs and she tossed it away.

Red mist rose up in front of her eyes. Blinking, she shook her head and turned her attention to her left arm.

She almost grabbed it with her right hand to yank that loose, but then realized that if she did that, there would be nothing holding her in place, and she would fall forward to tear her still-nailed feet to pieces.

Well, if she did it once, then she could do it again. She inhaled as deeply as she could (which wasn't much), wrapped her free arm around the beam again, and pushed out with the other.

A moment later she was draping both arms around the crossbeam as another nail clattered on the ground.

Though she was still shivering with pain and exhaustion, she was smiling. A small chuckle slipped out from her mouth. Heh, okay. It was working. She was winning.

Her eyes reopened then. She narrowed her gaze down at her feet, zeroing in on the last nail. Sucking in through her teeth, she tightened her hold on the crossbeam, braced her back, and pushed out with both legs.

Apparently she was a lot stronger than her slight frame would suggest. The nail slid out easily. She quickly freed the beneath foot and let herself drop from the cross.

She fell to a cold stone floor. Lying on her side, she drew her foot up and seized the nail with both hand and yanked it out.

Now that she was fully free from the cross with no bits of metal piercing through her, she rolled onto her back and lay still. Panting with exhaustion, she looked up the length of the ugly wooden construction of death.

That's right, she thought. You almost got me, but you didn't. I'm free now, I'm…

Then her eyes closed of their own accord as she finally gave herself to the darkness.

…

How long she slept she didn't know, but when her eyes opened again she was still in the same place, lying flat on her back with the cross still looming over her.

For a time she just lay there, slowly breathing in and out. For some reason the pain was completely gone, and now new sensations were being reported. She could feel the coldness of the stone beneath her back, arms, calves, and buttocks. The air in the room was uncomfortably cold, and she could see her breath misting above her.

Apparently she was naked, which all things considered was a minor inconvenience but still a problem. Of greater importance though was figuring out where she was, why she had been sentenced to die in such a horrific manner, and why she didn't hurt anymore. By all rights she ought to still be in agony from her wounds.

She let her head fall to her right, giving her a clear view of her arm. Then her brow furrowed in puzzlement. The skin of her wrist was whole and unblemished, with no sign of the nail wound or of any blood.

She then inspected her left side to find the same thing. With slow, cautious movements she lifted her right hand to run over the smooth, taut skin of her stomach. There was no evidence of where the spear had pierced her. She then lifted her legs one at a time and wiggled the toes on each. No holes. She was fine.

Was she dead? Had she succumbed to her wounds, bleeding out while she slept? Now that would be some horrible irony, to fight so hard to save herself only to have it mean nothing.

She slowly sat up. Well, she didn't feel dead. Her stomach ached a bit and her shoulders were a little sore, which was a pretty good indication of life. She then glanced around. No sign of her bloody, lifeless corpse. Okay, that was encouraging.

Though come to think of it, she didn't see any blood at all. Even if her wounds had mysteriously closed up, ought they have leaked a fair bit before that?

One of the nails was lying nearby. It was as ugly as she remembered, a crudely made spike of rough iron with a blunt head. She grimaced, remembering how it had felt to have it impaled through her flesh. She hesitated for a moment, and then reached out to prod it with her finger. It rolled a bit at her touch.

She then picked it up. It felt cool in her hand. Well, unless she had somehow taken it with her, she was pretty much confirmed as being alive. With a sigh, she tossed the nail aside and took her first good look at her surroundings.

Then her stomach clenched as her jaw fell open. Whatever it was that she was expecting, this wasn't it.

She was at the front of the sanctuary of a large cathedral, staring out at the rows and rows of black pews. And each and every seat was filled with pitch-black beings with red eyes and red smiles, all of them grinning at her. A strange, twisted red symbol was inscribed into their foreheads. And around each of their necks was draped a black noose, the ropes of which extended all the way up to the rafters.

Whimpering, she scooted back away from the crowd that had gathered to watch her execution. Her back then hit something made from wood. She slowly looked up to see the cross still looming over her. In her terrified state it almost looked alive. She felt like it was looking down at her in pitiless contempt, angry at having been robbed of its victim.

But then she caught sight of what was beyond the cross.

A huge stained-glass window covered the entire wall, depicting images that both confused her and filled her with dread. A mob of those black-bodied, red-eyed creatures dominated the right-hand corner, their arms uplifted in supplication. What appeared to be some kind of family stood across from them, a man and a woman and two young girls, all of them staring back at the horde. However, one of them girls was hanging back from the rest to lift up a spear over her head, ready to stab it into her unsuspecting father's back.

At the top of the glass mural hung the father's lifeless body from a length of rope. At either side of him hovered the still forms of the woman and one of the girls, both of them upside-down. And dominating the entire picture was a bizarre looking creature, one that looked mostly human and was dressed in an extravagant, colorful robe. However, instead of a head it had a giant lit candle, and at its breast at the center of the window it held the same symbol that was inscribed in the foreheads of the mob that filled the pews.

None of it made any sense whatsoever, and yet it something about it filled the girl's head with terror. She screamed and tried to flee, but then her foot caught on something round and metal and she fell.

As luck would have it, the arc of her fall ended up taking her down the stairs that led up to the podium. She tumbled all the way down toward the pews before ended up in a rather painful heap at the bottom.

Groaning, she held a hand to her throbbing temple. Then she opened her eyes to see a pair of black feet directly in front of her face.

Her fall had taken her right up to the first row of pews, with one of the leering creatures sitting right in front of her. However, now that she was seeing it up close, she saw that its feet seemed to be made from tightly woven black straw held together with black rope. Her gaze traveled higher, taking in the whole of the creature. The rest of it was made from straw as well. Furthermore, its eyes, mouth, and the symbol on its head were all painted on. As for the noose, it hung loosely around its neck, almost as if it were a marionette without a puppeteer.

A dummy? She straightened up, her fear giving way to curiosity. Sure enough, the whole thing was just a lifeless dummy made from straw, painted black with a crude red face.

Her eyes then swept over the rest of the pews. The entire congregation was made up of dummies, each and every one of them. Her brow furrowed. None of it made any sense. Why would anyone go through the trouble of crucifying someone in an elaborate cathedral in front of a fake crowd?

The back of her heel then touched something made out of metal. She looked down to see the spear that had pulled from her side. It was a pretty fancy one, with a large, triangular head painted with red lines, a segmented pole, and a round counterweight at the end, presumably to allow for swiping as well as stabbing.

She picked the spear up and turned it over her in her hands. A glance confirmed that yup, it was the same spear that the little girl held in the stained glass window. After a few moments of contemplation she glanced back at the dummy and poked it in the face with the spear. No reaction.

Mysteries on top of mysteries on top of mysteries and not a single answer to be found. Whatever it was that was going on, it was clear that she was in some deep shit, and weird deep shit at that. Furthermore, it was definitely time to go.

Gripping the spear tightly with both hands, she turned toward the back of the cathedral. She took her first step.

The sound of creaking knots drew her attention. The forest of black ropes that extended from the dummies' necks to the ceiling was being pulled up, the nooses tightening around their straw necks. Her back stiffened as the icy ball of fear returned. She stood frozen in place, watching as the entire congregation was lifted from the pews and drawn up into the air.

They stopped halfway up and just hung there like the swaying victims of a mass execution, their arms and legs swaying limply, their heads slumped in the nooses' grips. She wanted to tear her eyes away but found that she couldn't do anything but stand in place and stare with her mouth hanging open, the hands gripping the pole of the spear now white and trembling.

The world seemed deathly still, with no sound but the creaking of the ropes as they gently swayed back and forth and her own short, panicked breaths.

Then, as if on cue, each and every one of the hanging dummies slowly rotated around to stare directly at her.

Something snapped inside of her and she fled screaming, running through the rows and rows of pews with no thought of where she was going or what she would do when she got there, just the mindless need to get out, to escape the unblinking eyes and leering smiles that followed her every step of the way.

A large double-door was at the end of the sanctuary. She hit it with her shoulder, knocking it open. She darted through it and slammed it shut.

Panting, she leaned back against the door, partially to hold it closed, but also because she needed the support. She slid down to the floor and slumped forward, legs stretched out in front of her.

In time her breathing slowed, but that brought the tears. Sniffling, she instinctively tried to stop them, to push the sobs she felt struggling to come up back down.

Why?

The question gave her pause. Why fight it? For some reason she felt that she should, but for the life of her she couldn't think of a reason why. She was alone, had just narrowly escaped the most horrible means of execution known to man, and had been scared out of her wits. So why the hell shouldn't she be allowed to cry?

When no answer presented itself, she stopped fighting. Now uninhibited, the sobs came crashing out, bowing her shoulders. She covered her face with her hands, weeping freely.

It felt…well, it hurt a bit, but it felt good, like it was the first time she had cried in a long time, despite desperately needing it. She let it build and build, releasing the anguish that she didn't even know she was carrying, pouring out her soul.

Again, it did hurt, like tearing away old scabs, like digging out a rotten infection, but it felt so cleansing. And when her eyes were drained of tears and her breathing had steadied, she felt much better. Exhausted, but also refreshed, ready to move on. Wiping her eyes, she finally looked up at her surroundings.

She was no longer in a church, or at least if she was it sure was a weird one. The room she now found herself in was perfectly round and made of white marble. The only thing of note was a towering marble sculpture in the center. Four carved images that were part statue and part relief image faced off in four directions, their backs fusing together.

The carvings were bizarre, depicting creatures that made no sense. The one that was facing the girl was of the same flame-headed, robed figure from the stained glass window, now sitting atop of a horse.

And in its hand was a spear identical to the one the girl was carrying.

She cast a dubious glance at her weapon. She still had no idea what she had even been doing on that cross with that spear stabbed into her side. She didn't know who had put her there or what she had done to deserve it. But to her, that stone carving looked a hell of a lot like an idol. And given the deeply religious feel of that chapel and the fact that she had been stabbed with the same spear that the flame-headed creature was holding, she was starting to wonder if that crucifixion had been part of some kind of ritual sacrifice instead of a criminal execution.

But if that was the case, where were the worshippers? Where was the priest? The pews had been filled with dummies, not people. Where was anyone for that matter?

She slowly in and out, trying to get a handle on herself before she started panicking again. Right, right, right. She couldn't afford to lose her head. She had to focus on what was in front of her and deal with her problems one at a time. Hopefully then some answers would present themselves.

She got up and walked around the sculpture, studying the carvings. They were of other strange monsters, each one facing a door in the circular wall. To the left and the right of the robed candle thing were a pair of dainty, doll-like things, one eyeless with a wide skirt, a round bonnet, and what looked like a pair of ribbons for arms, one wrapped around the handle of a musket and the other holding a teacup. The other looked more clownish, with sleeves longer than its arms, which in turn were wrapped around a long staff topped with what looked like a wrapped piece of candy. Encircling around it was some kind of worm-caterpillar-clown thing, with a spotted body and a smiling, painted face.

Shivering, she then looked toward the carving that was back-to-back with the candle head. It was of some kind of mermaid knight, one wearing a full suit of armor, a high-collar cape, and had a large fish's tail instead of legs. Clutched in its hand was a cutlass.

She looked at each one of the carvings in turn, and then to the doors. The clown was facing what looked like the double doors of a hospital, only one was pink and the other blue. The one with the teacup and gun was facing an apartment door, albeit one with a car door handle of all things instead of a doorknob. And the mermaid knight was facing the swinging doors of some kind of theater, complete with a matinee display overhead, though it displayed music notes instead of the name of any particular show.

Frowning, she considered the problem ahead of her. Four stone creatures and four doors. Behind one had been her chapel, in which she had been crucified. Did that mean other people were likewise being tormented behind the other doors?

Well, there was only one way to find out. Choosing one completely at random, she walked over to the theater door. Casting a nervous looked at the armored mermaid, she pressed her ear to the door and listened.

The door was surprisingly thick, so she didn't hear much. But she did make out what sounded like some kind of symphony orchestra playing.

And then someone screamed shrilly. It sounded like a young girl.

That was enough for her. She shoved the door open with her shoulder and rushed in.