AN: The 15/16 switch is intentional! Don't be alarmed, lol. - J
S1E15 "Cold Spell"
Soon came the coldest, most miserable weekend in months. A weekend the Winx would spend elsewhere, and per Stella's urgent request, with the Wonder Boys.
Musa, however, would not; her aching body wouldn't allow it. Deep beneath her bedsheets, doped up on medicinal tea and cough syrup, she'd remain.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, Musa was never quite awake. Awake enough to hear her friends' supportive chatter that morning, and the pop of Stella's powers later on. Even the music that continuously played from her speakers. But after that, things began to blur. Hours passed, until the dark sky brightened to cloudy, foreboding gray.
Until noon came.
And so did the knocks.
Just one knock at first. Then two. Even sets of three, split by pauses, that became a familiar beat-some quirky tune rapped against the balcony door's glass. It only stopped once the door creaked open. Beneath her covers, Musa opened her eyes.
The air chilled. Heavy, boot-clad footsteps entered, rounding the bed towards the opposite side. They approached its edge, which sank a few moments later. A hand then pinched at her feet and toes until she sifted them away. Wherever they went, the pinching followed.
Musa emerged. Sprawling hair first, then her forehead, and finally, her cautious eyes. From there, she saw Riven; she saw his grin, his scrunched-up nose, and the dangerous juxtaposition of the two.
"Don't worry." Riven muttered. "I knocked."
He wasn't facing her directly; his stare met the floor while taking off his jacket, then his hands as his gloves were removed. After a neck scratch, he pushed up the sleeves of his underlying sweater.
"The door let me in."
She'd laugh, if her sore throat allowed it. To save herself the pain and effort, Musa smiled, then blinked her eyes shut.
One eye reopened-he was looking straight at her now. His face had softened, but this quickly reversed as they met each other's gaze. Back to the devilish grin he started with.
Riven reclined to one side and propped a fist against his cheek.
He exhaled.
This required no response. Not an immediate one, at least. Energy shot, Musa rose to a sitting position and gently crossed her arms.
"What?" She rasped out.
He didn't answer, instead choosing to stare. More attentive staring. She swallowed, feeling the tingle of an oncoming cough.
"You look like shit today."
Was it her ruddy cheeks? The damp bangs swirling at her temples? The ratty, bleach-stained hoodie her body drowned in? Most likely, all of the above.
"I do." Musa nodded. "Thanks for noticing."
Without warning, the coughing fit began. Very dry coughs into her sleeve, so painful they nearly brought her to tears. When the fit weakened and subsided, and her lungs collapsed, Musa looked up to see his wry expression.
"Gross."
"You know I'm...contagious, right? If you stay here-" She cleared her throat. "You'll catch it."
"Wrong." He got up. "Impossible."
Walking forward, Riven plopped a hand against Musa's forehead. The temperature he felt seemed concerning, so he followed up the gesture with his palm. Her bangs were pushed upward, off her eyes.
"Haven't been sick a day in my life." His brows raised. "Today won't be different."
His attention then turned towards her crowded desk. Honey-flavored lozenges, three different suppressants, and a cold bowl of soup took up most of its space.
Riven inspected the bottle of cough syrup.
"How much?"
"A lot." Musa nuzzled back into her covers. "Too much, probably..."
Flora's tea, a potent blend of nettle, ginger, and tangy echinacea, was foolishly brought to his nose. The scent made him flinch. He placed the teacup down, gagging in secret.
She sighed.
"...I don't think it's working, though."
Riven placed his hands in his pockets and shuffled about the room, eyeing her posters and other knick-knacks. "Purplemoose" (Musa's creativity at its finest) was on her nightstand, a sight that made him smile. He also noticed the empty box of tissues it sat upon.
"You're out." He picked it up. "Want more?"
Her congested sinuses were painful, but not nearly as bad as her cough.
"No..." She mumbled. "I'm good."
As if taunted by the universe, Musa's one working nostril plugged shut. Riven, already eyeing the outside, looked more than willing to run errands-more than he was willing to await her response.
"One box." Around the bed, he went. "Two boxes."
Musa didn't respond. There was no point in telling him otherwise. She'd known Riven long enough; once his mind was set, everything else served as an afterthought.
"Three?"
She pursed her lips.
"Three boxes." Riven answered himself. "Excellent choice."
Another smug, shit-eating grin from him prompted defiance, a snarky retort, that she scarcely had the energy for.
Musa watched him place on his jacket. He brought the zipper halfway up his chest, then switched to his gloves. With quick timing, she opened her nightstand's drawer, yanked out her bag, and tossed her pay card at his face.
Beneath the surface-level annoyance, he seemed touched.
"Yeah, um-" He flipped it through his fingers. "Won't be needing this."
Riven walked over to give it back, but she swatted away his hand.
"Dude, please-" She whined, voice feeble in tone. "Just take it-"
A game of back-and-forth began. Clearly outmatched, Riven stretched out her collar and dropped the card inside. He then pulled up her hood, drawing the strings tight around her face. Only her nose and mouth remained.
"It's tissues, Moose." Riven chuckled out. "Relax."
Two fingers pushed her down, then flicked her forehead. Defeated, she grinned at the ceiling.
"Just...stay warm." Riven leaned over at her bedside. "Until I come back."
Musa freed herself and turned. Riven aimed to straighten out, but a shoulder touch kept him in place. With hesitation, she reached out; he watched this happen, and followed the zipper's path as she pulled. Past his chest, past his collar, and more. Once the zipper reached his neck, Musa's hand wedged back beneath her pillows.
She shut her eyes, now smiling with accomplishment.
"Will do."
Musa's duvet was pulled past her shoulders. She mumbled her thanks, sinking further down until only her hair remained.
Riven backed out of the apartment, past the balcony door and eventually outside. Back to his idle wind-rider, and the bleak, harrowing weather that nipped at his skin.
Weather that, for a moment, made him briefly reconsider.
This moment passed, though. His sigh condensed in the air. Some of his humor returned, appearing as a grin. Riven found his helmet, donned it, and revved up the wind-rider's engine.
Off towards the junction, he went.
With the afternoon, came another devastating drop in temperature. Magix City was emptier than usual; frost dusted the streetlights, and persistent winds drained people from the square.
Most people, that is.
The Trix were the exception. They were striding down the sidewalk, refusing to share space with anyone around them.
Icy was at the forefront, creating a spectacle out of her light, coat-less attire. She seemed frustrated, unsteady even, and much of her hair fell past her shoulders. Her pallor had worsened as well, making her ghostly in appearance. Chalk-like, and nearly blue at the limbs.
A spellbook, cradled like a fussy newborn, was the source of Icy's annoyance. It was thick, and faced with elaborate, bone-carved designs that she scraped her nails over. Beautiful and rare, and a fine addition to any witch's library.
Just not hers.
They maneuvered down a nearby alleyway. The mirrored walls had grown opaque, much to their benefit. After some silent, hand-gestured instructions, Icy dipped around the corner alone.
Open shops were marked by sporadically lit windows. The closest, on her immediate right, was an old-fashioned bookstore. The rusted brown storefront clashed with the blues and greens of surrounding buildings, as did its wooden sign.
Icy fixed her face, straightened out her shoulders, and opened the chiming entrance.
The air was stagnant, and held the comforting stench of old books. One dim overhead light managed to brighten the entire space, which wasn't much space to begin with; shelves lined either side of her, continuing downward until a polished mahogany desk came into view.
This desk was unattended, but a notebook suggested someone's presence. In her curiosity, Icy examined the desk's contents. A card-reader sat next to an antique stamp press, while a mason jar filled with pencils contained a gorgeous feather pen that she immediately hexed into her grasp.
Last was a call bell, which she rang once. The sound garnered some reaction, like a shuffle of steps, but not much else. She rang again, pressing harder than before. The steps drew closer, then stopped. Icy craned her neck to the left and glared down a row of books. Someone's shadow was there, warped around the corner, until its owner soon stepped into view.
An absolute draft horse of a boy, harboring a mane of white hair to match, made his silent reappearance. He effortlessly reached the highest rows in a way that made her jealous.
The stack of books tucked into his arm steadily dwindled in size; each went back to their respective spot on the shelves. Afterwards, he finally acknowledged Icy's presence-a side-glance was given, followed by a flat, contemplative grin.
His steps were surprisingly quiet, despite his boots. Walking closer revealed earbuds, halfway removed, which blasted rock at a volume most found deafening. He took his sweet time sitting down, bearing a glassy expression that she'd recognize anywhere. A Dyamond native, no doubt.
His fingers interlocked in his lap.
The spellbook came down with a slam. He wasn't startled by the gesture, but his hair flew back at its force. He only blinked, opening his mouth slightly as if stuck on his words.
"An exchange, please." She said sweetly. "If you could."
He tugged it across the desk, inhaling a breath as he did so.
"Like don't get me wrong, it's gorgeous. Prettiest one around. Chock full of spells, which I've truly appreciated."
"Just not quite the book I've been looking for." Her eyes narrowed. "Hope you'll understand."
Mindlessly, he nodded. His expression was truly ambiguous-neither happy or sad, mad, or anything in-between. But a gloom still sheened those pretty eyes, which lowered as the inspection began.
"So, first off-" He nodded towards the entrance "-no exchanges here."
Icy swiveled on her heels. The glass door displayed the words "NO EXCHANGES/RETURNS/REFUNDS" in bold white lettering. She rolled her eyes, then resumed smiling. The turn back was slower, stiffer than before, creating a squeak against the floor tile.
"But you're right. Limited edition, hand-crafted book cover..." Pages were flipped with care. "...she's impressive to look at, actually."
"Yes?"
As he reached the spellbook's center, things started falling apart-literally. The middle section was rife with water damage, enough to completely detach the book's pages from its spine. A ruined page fell out in his grasp, which he flipped, then reattached in vain.
"Just not salvageable, at this point." He closed the book. "The glue's gone, pages are drenched, and the text's been smeared away. Destroyed."
"Come on." Icy reclaimed the book. "You've seen worse-"
The entire spellbook's contents slid out, sprawling hundreds of pages at her feet. Only the sturdy cover remained, and tiny bits of string now dangled against her hip. She dared him to react in any way possible.
"Alright. I'll find some glue-blast some air on it for a couple hours." The pages were shoved back into place. "It'll be fine. Good as new. Then you'll take it back?"
"Very..." He muttered, rubbing his jaw. "...very unlikely."
Icy sighed.
The spellbook was slammed back down, which again met no reaction. The clasp of her ponytail was removed, freeing her hair. Then, aided by magic, she restrained it all back, docking it to a length she preferred. This revealed more skin, including the speckled white tops of her shoulders.
"Fine..." She eased out. "Worth a shot."
The boy frowned, then fished for his earbud's cord. Icy's smile began to falter, as did her friendly charade. This change was noticed, but not acknowledged. Neither was her subtle headshake, or the magic now glowing from her fingers.
A different smile appeared; a smile genuine yet terrifying, and too sinister to be ignored. It stopped the boy dead in his tracks.
She swiped the air. Without protest, his body was frozen solid, stiffening as an ice shell structured him to his chair. Hands gripping the armrests, his expression resembled worry, suspicion, and abject fear.
Icy walked further into the bookstore, swiping more spellbooks into her grasp. Different types and editions, until a sizable stack was formed.
One unauthorized, but completely free of charge.
Riven exited a convenience store, heading left against the wind. The parking deck was far off, and in his growing discomfort outside, a series of shortcuts were taken through the alleyways.
His flimsy shopping bag contained three boxes of tissues, printed with the most ridiculous patterns he could find. Every so often he'd take a glimpse, an unnecessary headcount, imagining how Musa would react upon seeing them. Picturing her amused, rambling like a madwoman with a box in her hand-it made him audibly laugh.
He crossed an empty street. Though completely alone, a shift in the air was felt. Not from the weather, but something else; it was the alarming sensation of being watched, and possibly followed. Riven's pace slowed.
The sensation became stronger, more obvious. He came to a stop in the middle of an alleyway, wiping the nearby mirrors and looking over his shoulder. He fully turned, using his free hand to search for his pod. An overreaction maybe, but Riven seldom ignored his instincts.
Then, it came. Pressure along his back, wrapping to his waist, and visibly moving up his torso. Shock kept him deathly still, with exception of his eyes.
His zipper jingled and lowered to his chest, and any attempt at raising it was reversed. He smelled sweet lavender, a dead giveaway on its own, and relaxed at the sight of his twirling bangs. One smooth stroke of his hair became several, all thoroughly enjoyed.
The pressure stopped at his cheek. Fingers appeared, which joined a gloved hand, arm and body that unveiled before his eyes.
Darcy, looking curious as usual, grinned before him. They embraced; the gesture was sweet, though starkly different from their usual kisses.
All this way out for... She looked down at his bag. Tissues?
Yeah. He nodded slightly. Three boxes worth.
His mind buzzed with thoughts, muted yet present, as Darcy stared him down. Judging from her eyes, more context would be necessary. He tried to not look defensive.
"She's sick right now." He muttered aloud, breaking their connection. "Thought they'd help."
Silence, on both fronts. It brought discomfort-an uneasiness to his stance, that he couldn't hide. Tension rose, then steadily tapered off. Darcy crossed her arms, wrinkling her velvet coat sleeves as the window for argument passed.
"How..." She muttered back. "...considerate."
She sauntered out the alleyway, turning right. Riven followed, matching her pace up the empty sidewalk with the parking deck still in mind.
And you? What's your excuse? He tried teasing her. Half the square's closed today.
Icy's trashed another spellbook. Third one this week, which doesn't surprise me. Darcy looked over her shoulder. She does it on purpose, you know.
What? Riven frowned. Why?
Disappointment, usually. There's always something better.
They passed shops, seeing clothing and furniture in the dark, frosted windows. One window featured jewelry, catching her interest.
The greener grass. Darcy elaborated. The alternatives.
Mannequins displayed two-pronged hair combs, each with varying floral designs. One had a polished onyx as its highlight-a gemstone Darcy favored. Viewing the window's reflection, he saw her eyes widen, brightening with wonder.
They're desired just as much. She slowed her pace. If not more.
He took one last lingering look, then continued walking after her.
They were headed somewhere-to where, he wasn't sure. The Trix frequented Magix City, so it was safe to assume that with one sister gone, the others had likely followed. Icy and Stormy couldn't be that far off.
Another street was crossed, and alleyway entered. Emerging on the other side, Riven saw the parking deck in the distance. He took note of it, even while Darcy's path led them further in the opposite direction.
"Um..." He started, looking behind him. "I might just-"
Darcy turned around.
"The tissues can't wait? Is that it?" She played with her hair. "She'll die without them, I'm sure?"
"Well...no." Riven half-laughed. "But-"
Her stare, a thinly veiled warning, convinced him otherwise. He still hesitated with his choice-something she pretended not to notice.
Heading up the sidewalk, he saw Icy kneeling before three piles of spellbooks. Brief skims were made-beginning, middle, then straight to the end. The occasional page caught her attention, but amounted to nothing worthwhile. She looked up from her current one as they approached.
"Yes." Icy rolled her tired eyes. "Of course."
Riven grinned down at her, cocking his head.
"Nice to see you, too."
The spellbook was closed, then tossed aside.
"Your smirk's not appreciated." Her lashes fluttered. "At all."
Riven looked at the chaos that surrounded them, then her disheveled, wind-blown appearance.
"Can you blame me, though?"
She examined the mess, and sighed.
"In Magix City, there are approximately twenty-five bookstores."
"Twenty of those twenty-five bookstores have sections for spellbooks." Icy explained further. "Ten have spellbooks dedicated to the arcane, eldritch, or otherwise unusual."
Icy rose to her feet, gripping the alleyway's wall for support. A few strands of white hair were pulled from her lips.
"Five, are without security cameras."
Riven looked at the storefront, nodding in agreement.
"And one. Just one..." She rolled her shoulders. "...is currently open right now."
"So forgive me, if you could, for acting a little...desperate."
Seconds later, an energetic charge surged. Static and light flashed from the bookstore's windows, and Stormy, high on adrenaline, kicked her way out the entrance. She carried another stack of spellbooks, which Icy clapped at the sight of. Riven stood quiet, looking dumbfounded.
"Boy-toy!" Stormy smiled. "How's it goin'?"
She placed the stack in Icy's hands, who crouched away soon after.
"You're robbing bookstores now?" Riven looked between the Trix. "In broad daylight?"
"Borrowing." Icy corrected. "Bor-row-ing."
Darcy nudged him. "Know the difference."
"It's daunting shit, in there! Had to knock that guy out! Like-if you saw him?" Stormy reached for his shoulder. "You'd know w-"
Residual static pulsed through Riven's body, strong enough to make Darcy react, then promptly intervene. Both hunched over in pain, to Stormy's amusement, until the prickling sensation was gone.
In the meantime, Icy had arranged the six spellbooks into neat, parallel rows. Using her magic, each cover was simultaneously opened.
"Alright." Icy smiled. "Let's see here-"
Hundreds of pages flipped at once, glowing as she scanned them for content. The ordeal seemed promising at first, but its prolonged duration quickly chipped away her optimism.
"Hm...nope, nope...nope-" The final spellbook flipped shut. "Fuck!"
"None of them?!" Stormy gawked. "Really?!"
Unsatisfied by the result, Icy manually searched the spellbooks. Her flips were frantic, tearing an occasional page from the force.
"Just-" She whined out. "-find some more, please!"
"What d'you mean, 'more'?! There's none left!"
"Go back inside!"
"Icy-" Darcy tucked her bangs. "This is getting ridiculous."
She grabbed Icy's arm, while Stormy took the other.
"Wait, wait!" Icy squirmed. "I'm still looking!"
"Nope." Their grips tightened. "We're done."
"Wait, for fuck's sake!"
"Get up-"
Icy was pulled to her feet and forced down the alleyway, toppling spellbooks in her wake. They'd almost reached the other side, when a ricocheting ice blast caused disruption. She slipped away towards the bookstore. Darcy and Stormy barreled after her, leaving Riven alone on the sidewalk.
Another headcount of the tissue boxes was made. Looking up, the sky had darkened in color, while winds increased to a troubling speed that suggested an incoming storm. Riven pulled out his phone, frowning at the time, and after a few cautious seconds, started shuffling towards the parking deck.
But the bookstore's entrance swung open, tinkling a bell. Riven paused, and felt a familiar wave of scrutiny grow behind him. Darcy, gripping the doorframe, stared twice as hard from across the way.
He turned. More silence on the couple's part-a standoff. Hesitation brewed defiance, which Darcy did notice, and quickly opposed. His backward movement became difficult. She looked at his confused face, then his boots. After, came a satisfied grin.
The bag was dropped in the alleyway, away from the wind. As expected, the force immediately waned. Her gaze softened, and a finger beckoned him forward.
Riven shook his head, tongue in cheek, as he reached the bookstore's entrance.
Three shouting voices filled the space, which he reluctantly followed towards the center.
"Riven!" Darcy yelled mid-chase. "Keep an eye on him, okay?!"
Walking further, he spotted the bookstore's owner-slumped on the front desk, covered by his sweatshirt's hood. Chunks of ice water pooled from where he sat.
Riven side-stepped, peering around at the fight nearby. Icy was levitating to scour the highest sections, while her sisters yanked down at her boots.
She gripped a pole, anchoring herself. "You didn't even look here, did you?!"
"Yes I did!"
"Bet I'll find one!" She tossed out a book. "Watch!"
The fight continued. Riven stepped back to his original spot, muttering under his breath. But at that moment, he heard noises. Creaking wood and muffled groans, which steadily increased in volume. Riven looked down, and stopped breathing. The owner was gaining back consciousness, prematurely so, at a rate worth causing panic.
"Woah, woah-" Riven started to crouch. "Shit-"
He made an unsteady rise from the table, swiping desk items, and reached a height rivaling Codatorta himself. Stormy's reaction had not been exaggerated.
Next came a full-body stretch, and a short yawn, as if awoken from a nap. Riven lost his balance and scooted frantically across the floor. Swaying forward, the guy propped an arm against a bookcase, shook his head clear, and removed the wet hood from his face.
"Riven-"
Riven stopped scooting.
After rubbing his eyes clear, the guy stared. Riven stared back, surprised to be recognized, until a mutual recollection of where they knew each other from came about. It was obvious, the longer he looked; he remembered that height, the long white hair, and the gentle voice questioning Saladin during orientation.
"Ivan?" Riven said back.
He blinked a couple times, and seemed slightly out of it following the Trix's assault.
"Ivan, right?"
"Mm..." He blinked again, rubbing his nape. "...yeah?"
A few steps were taken forward. He seemed confused, looking around at the books with a puzzled expression. Taking a moment to register where he was, Ivan reached out to help Riven up.
"Why are you-"
Something heavy and blunt struck his head, sending him down again. Ivan landed with a thud. Standing behind him, wielding the last spellbook in the entire bookstore, was Icy. She made an emotionless glance at his body.
"Look at that." She told Riven, giving the spellbook a shake. "Found one."
Icy stepped over without a care.
"We can go now, girls."
Stormy approached right after, thoroughly impressed by Ivan's takedown.
"Told you!" She stepped over as well. "Dude's absolutely massive!"
Darcy was last. She lingered nearby, shifting around as he overturned Ivan's body. He attempted to wake him, but shaking his shoulders and tapping his face proved futile.
"Come on, man-" He opened one of his eyelids. "-wake up!"
"Do you-" Darcy crouched down. "Do you know him?"
Riven ignored her. Together, they dragged Ivan along the floor and into the desk's chair. His head dropped back, exposing earbud wires and a metal chain. Dreading what he'd find, Riven fished out the chain, revealing an old, stainless-steel tag. One side bore Ivan's name and identification number, while the other bore Red Fountain's Coat of Arms.
The sight made him nauseous.
Darcy frowned.
"He's not d-"
"Just-do it! Now-" He started to pace, raking back his bangs. "Erase all this shit, before he-"
She rushed around the desk, as instructed, planting thumbs at Ivan's temples. After heavy concentration, his eyes opened. They sheened purple, and his grimace softened while she wiped his short-term memory.
Facing resistance, Darcy stopped. She wrung her aching hands, then eyed Riven from the desk's opposite side. The wipe brought some relief, but Riven's pity still remained, clearly plastered across his face.
He took a final look at the place and headed out. Darcy shoved the earbuds back into Ivan's ears for his eventual come around, then followed.
A storm was forming outside, like expected. Riven yanked up his jacket's zipper and swiveled left, marching towards the alleyway until Darcy touched his back. His hostile expression was startling.
"Okay." Her shoulders hunched. "You're upset-"
"Yes."
Fear, annoyance, and shame all clouded his eyes.
"A little." He squinted. "Just a bit."
He retrieved the bag of tissue boxes. His steps met opposition again, like trampling through thick mud, but he continued. Slower and slower, until his calves ached.
"She didn't know, okay? None of us did!" Darcy teleported in front of him. "Like, how'd you expect us to-"
"That's not-I don't care. Just-" He glared at his legs. "-let me go, please."
"Riven-"
"I'm done."
Darcy remained in place. Like with most arguments, she teased him first, slinking around his body while his temper died down. This usually worked, but not always, and especially not now. He was prepared. She reached up to hold his jaw, but her wrist was caught.
"I'm leaving, Darcy." He leaned over her. "Now."
Her wrist grew limp in his grip. Her hand opened, and her fingers made slow, flourishing movements, like wind-blown reeds.
"It's getting cold. It's getting late." Riven leaned closer. "It's getting dark."
Darcy rolled her eyes. Yes, he hated the first, but the others were hardly cause for concern. If anything, they were favored.
"So I'll come by later. Afterwards." His tone softened. "Alright?"
She refused to respond.
"Alright?"
Her wrist was released, and her arms were promptly crossed. She still refused to speak, neither verbally or telepathically, ushering in a wave of his annoyance. Eye contact only resumed once his free hand climbed to her waist.
"Like always."
He drew her waist in; the action was rare now, almost nostalgic. Thoughts went straight to September, and the lively start of their relationship. Darcy, happy to see its return, wrapped her arms around his torso.
"I prom-"
Riven caught himself. A slip-up, of course. Something he was banned from saying, that made Darcy sigh, then shut her eyes.
He said sorry in all ways except words-a pleading look, and a sheepish grin. His nose bridge was gently pressed into hers, but paired with wide, unblinking eyes that made her struggle not to laugh.
But her press forward, and sudden kiss, produced withdrawal. Riven refrained, blatantly so, in a way she couldn't ignore. He kissed her back, but the damage had already been done. He sensed hurt feelings, and deeper than this, rejection. So strong, it made him sore.
Icy and Stormy's squabbling came into focus, which she spitefully turned her attention to. Phasing back towards the alleyway, Riven was free to depart towards the parking deck at whatever speed he desired.
The spellbook's pages were being flipped into insanity. Icy's curiosity grew, and lofty hopes of new information pressured her forward. Stormy had her arms crossed, deeming this pointless, but did nothing to stop her from doing so.
That was until, nearly towards the end, came a score. An addendum of thirty yellowed pages, wrinkled and rotting, with blank titles providing no clues as to their content.
The first page was pinched between her thumb and index finger. Brittle in texture, and subject to tearing at the slightest amount of force. Questionably damp. Warm.
Skin-like.
On its turn, came surprise. An expression of pure and genuine delight.
"F-Fucking-" Icy sputtered out, smiling. "-finally?!"
Stormy's mouth gaped. She watched Icy parade the winning spellbook throughout the air, and joined her bouncing path. Both laughed and raved, for slightly different reasons, and prepared for their mid-storm departure into the sky.
"She found it!" Stormy yelled. "Darcy!"
Darcy stood at the alleyway's entrance. She watched Riven cross the street, bracing the wind, and disappear down the fading sidewalk. He jogged with enough urgency to make her skin crawl.
"Darcy! Let's go!"
Wind thrashed hair across her face, shielding her dark, soul-snatching glare. It didn't last long, becoming a scowl, and eventual pout. Gone were the sweet, nauseating by-products of their love; Riven's constant fuck-ups had done away with those. They were enduring now.
Glued only by attachment, perhaps.
Nothing more.
The Trix zipped through Gloomywood forest, smiting down branches. The storm had reached its peak, making it suitable weather for trying. Old-fashioned spellcraft, performed after decades, would be the highlight of Icy's day.
She picked out a clearing nearby. It was fast approaching at their current speed, so a yielding arm was outstretched, halting their path.
"Stop-" Icy yelled out. "Right here!"
The clearing was entered, even frolicked through. Icy took the initiative by spraying down luminescent ice, marking the perimeter, center, and their individual placements. Stormy and Darcy honed their powers with clenched fists. The Vacuums were summoned as well, lighting the forest bright red, vibrant purple, and shiny, dazzling blue.
"After this, we're going home!" Darcy yelled over the wind. "Right?!"
"Obviously!" Icy yelled back. "Let's try it first, at least!"
"But-Like-" Stormy whined. "Now?!"
Icy gave an exasperated sigh. Their questioning had not been appreciated.
"Yes?!" She opened the spellbook. "When fucking else?!"
Without further issue, the convergence began. Malevolent forces were at work, leeching magic from their fingers at an impressively fast rate. It burned their veins, strained their eyes-weakened their bodies considerably.
But the Vacuums. Oh, the Vacuums. Filled to their brim, almost shaking in anticipation.
What a gratifying sight, it was.
"Alright!" Icy encouraged the others. "Keep going!"
With the addendum as their amplifier, they reached unprecedented levels of power, in ways never registered before.
Energy surged, making the ground distort. It warped and buckled, as if submerged-something large was contained beneath them, caught between the unseen world and their reality.
Outwardly, Icy laughed. Ecstatically so, exceeding the laughs of her sisters. But inside, a strange feeling overcame her; there was something odd, troubling, about discovering what was there. Her conscience, atrophied from disuse, was now begging her to reconsider.
But soon, came the fateful breach.
Bones emerged-large, creaking bones, later recognized as arms. An unnerving sight to witness. The Trix watched as they grasped and writhed, carving lines of dirt at their fingertips.
Icy's vision was blurring, but she persevered. She refused to break concentration, even at her own health's expense.
Gray, sinewy skin stretched over these bones, which increased to three distinct sets. Darcy and Stormy struggled to levitate, with the latter on the verge of collapse. Fear of disruption came as she dropped to her knees.
The entity was larger than anticipated. Hearth-like light shined out, and with each second came more of its form.
Icy could barely see them, but they were there; three gaunt, anguished faces, one after the other, with large glowing eyes. This prompted horrifying screams, loud and relentless, that grew too much for the Trix to bear. Darcy slumped on the ground next, de-stabilizing the convergence even more.
One face approached Icy. Her head throbbed, and her magic had thoroughly depleted. She was a sitting duck now, incapable of defending herself.
Strange words were being said through its thin, shriveled lips. Icy failed to hear them. She felt her eyes roll back and flutter closed, while her body gave in to exhaustion.
A violent regression of limbs came afterward, swarming the breach area until the clearing grew silent and dark. The convergence stopped, and the commotion finally ended as the spellbook snapped back shut.
The Trix laid unconscious, heads to the ground, as the winter storm thrashed on.
Riven had faced many setbacks.
An extra twenty minutes searching the parking deck (on a different floor), ten minutes weaving through traffic, and five minutes pushing his vehicle down the backroads. Apparently, despite the name, wind-riders weren't equipped for frigid, high-speed weather.
It could barely manage the thirty feet towards the balcony, clunking against the railing as he dismounted. Exhausted beyond belief, Riven opened the balcony door and crawled along to her bedside.
He hated shivering, but this couldn't be helped. It shook his breaths, making them unsteady, until the bedroom's heating leveled him out. His head slumped back against her duvet. He then languidly blinked at the ceiling, and swallowed.
"Stupid..."
Musa didn't respond, but he felt movement. She'd sifted her legs, bringing them inward.
"Go ahead..." Riven muttered. "...you can say it."
His head turned left, seeing hair peek out from her pillows. He stared with one eye, then both, eventually lifting himself up to inspect further.
"Moose?"
With caution, Riven reached for her duvet's edge, pulling it downward. Musa's face was revealed, still flushed pink from her cold. She was sleeping now, blissfully unaware of the mess he'd created. Riven took a moment to admire this, grinning weakly, before drawing the duvet back.
Back on the edge, he slumped. The bag of tissue boxes was hoisted above his head, straight onto Musa's torso.
There wasn't much else to do. Ice and snow painted the balcony white, burying his wind-rider, the railing, and more. He found the sight relaxing; it made him close his eyes, and aim to lounge for a while.
But not as he usually did. Not this time.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, he was never quite awake. Awake enough to hear his phone chime, and his pre-set alarm later on. Even the music, gentle in sound, that continuously played from her speakers.
But after that, things began to blur. Hours passed, until the storm subsided, and the gray sky darkened to starry, comforting blue.
Until night came.
And, unfortunately, so did the knocks.