G O D F O R S A K E N
C H A P T E R F O U R
'O God, why hast thou forsaken me?'
Everything was silent. If one could paint the emotion that the house felt, there would be nothing on the canvas besides a white space that stretched across the walls and twined deep into the floorboards. Then, if this painting were given life, one would undoubtedly see a tiny speck of crimson appear in the upper left corner of the white expanse. This pinprick of color would bleed downward, lending what might be called life if one was a very optimistic person. One would begin to make out a long hallway, leading to a thick door that twisted and moaned under some unseen wrong. The hallway itself would seem unreal, as if someone had warped it with years spent outside of the light. The red flow would begin to become too great for the painting to absorb, and everything would become draped in a scarlet cloak. Only then would one be able to see the figure wrapped tightly in thick, gnarled branches that stemmed from the walls, floors, and ceilings of every place the red tide touched. The red would continue building up, until one would no longer see anything except that figure and then its eyes would open and then all one would be able to see would be blue-
He did not make a sound. Quatre just sat there in his bed, sheets tangled around themselves at the corner of his bed. The darkness pressed around him, and he reached for the light switch, struggling to suppress the scream that would inevitably come.
Why was this happening to him? How was it that first of all Duo could sense what was going on, and then suddenly everything had been unveiled, leaving Quatre to bear the brunt of it? Why was everything feeling so terribly wrong?
A sigh whispered through his room, and he dug his fingernails into the richly decorated quilt. His training moved sluggishly into gear, while he mentally begged it to move more quickly. It did not. Once he finally remembered what to do, Quatre looked around his room anxiously, grappling with his fear and trying to decide whether he should simply make a break for it or do the insane and impossible, and wait for her to come. For he knew without a doubt that she would come for him.
He imagined how it would happen, a cold sweat beading on his brow. He would be laying there on the bed, striving not to scream or lash out against the shadows that would surround his bedside. The door would open. The dull yellow light would pour through the doorway onto his floor. He wouldn't look to the side, because he would be hoping with all of his heart that she wouldn't be there, and that everything was just a dream. He would hear the floorboards creak, and the terror would begin to build up in his chest. He would squeeze his eyes shut and pray to God that He would deliver his soul. No one would answer his plea, and he would hear a low, masculine laugh, filled with malice. The terror would flee from him, and he would be empty, waiting to look into her eyes. His eyes would open, and she would be there, standing above him, wearing a tattered white dress. He would stare at her and the scars running down her arms and face, and her dusty blonde hair as it fell freely to her feet. There would be a wave in her hair near her head, suggesting that there had once been pigtails there. Her head would be bowed, and then she would raise it and look into him with eyes filled with nothing except hurt and bottomless, bottomless blue. A strange, crooked smile would grace her lips, and she would reach out and nearly touch his cheek, but draw back. His cheek would sting where she nearly made contact.
"You amaze me," she would whisper in a voice like golden bells that had been broken and repaired wrongly.
He would open his mouth and the only thing that would come out would be a terrified gasp. She would let her eyes close halfway, loosening some of his fear. His hands would curl around the sheets, and she would glance down at them. Her muscles would bunch, and a wide smile would come to her face.
"Do you know something, Quatre Rabera Winner? I have discovered two things in my time here. There is no such thing as God. God would never let what has happened here happen. It would one of the great sins of mankind and the dead, Quatre Rabera Winner. Gabriel and Raphael cried for this wrong, and God sent four of his own to help. Did it help? No. They were drug into the depths of Hell, where even Satan cannot reach. Their wings were torn from their bodies and their halos were ripped from their hearts. The iron stake of immortality was hammered into their souls, and the great sins piled up on them like flies to a rotting fruit. The second thing that I have learned is that there are no good men or women in this house, and there are two great evils. Can you tell which is the lesser? Can I? It has taken me years to discover the two. It will take be centuries more to answer the next. Do you have a century to think, Quatre Rabera Winner? Or can you save yourself and yours before the seventh day?"
Then she would have said his name three times, and a cold hand would wrap around his heart and squeeze. He would open his mouth to scream, and the other phantom hand would reach down his throat and steal his words. The vice around his heart would contract, and his body would convulse with pain. It would tighten again, and the pain would move to an area that he would not be able to identify. It was everywhere and nowhere. It was in the core of his being. She would take his face his her hands and touch her dead lips to his feverish head.
"That's what your soul feels like when it's dying," she would whisper.
The hand would be gone from his throat and heart, and he would fall back on his bed, too full of pain to even cry. Her feet would press against the moaning floor, and her hand would touch the doorknob, and then fall away. She would turn down the hall to the right, and he would thank God or whoever might have saved him that his soul was still his.
But would it be?
He would sit back up in bed and clutch at his heart. Would there be an absence there? Would there be a hollow where his soul was supposed to be? Was there any way to tell? He hadn't even known what a soul felt like until he had felt its pain.
Quatre broke himself from his imaginings and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Pure foolishness. He should run. He should run fast and hard. She would come for him, and she would take whatever he thought was his. He made to swing his feet off the bed and froze.
Dull yellow light poured through his doorway, making a perfect square on his floorboard. Denial rose in his heart like a welling of lava from an erupting volcano. Shadows of men and women slanted across the square of light on his floor, and one of the shadows fell back and stood in the center.
There was a thump from under his bed, and he almost cried.
"Don't look under the bed, Quatre Rabera Winner," she whispered to him, her whispery laughter echoing around his room and in his head.
He whimpered and laid back down in a fetal position, stomach turning painfully. Which way do you turn when the enemy is a house?
Duo was not asleep.
He was ready for what he knew would come. Something had terrified Quatre so much that he had been reduced to a completely unintelligible state of insanity. Something had been laughing when they had found Quatre. Something had made the slashes on the paintings. Something had happened in the parlor the other day. Something had happened years and years ago that made everything else happen as well. Whether all the things were the same or completely different, he was determined to uncover what, exactly, was going on.
He had decided that the best way to find out was camp in the room beside Quatre's and wait. He wasn't sure whether the creature would actually come for Quatre or not, but he knew he had to be ready. What he was ready for, unfortunately, was not what he found. Things rarely were what anyone ever expected. Duo had been expecting a hideous monster, terrifying in it's grotesqueness.
What he found was a tiny slip of a girl. She wore a dress that he had seen on Serenity many times, although her version was very worn and tattered. The shell sleeves had been torn. The dress was a darker shade of gray, and had quite a few places where it had been worn through. Scars wound down her arms, and a thick beige scar streaked across her left cheek. Her feet were bare. Long blonde hair cascaded to her feet in tangled waves. He suddenly knew that once she had been beautiful. Once. Once very long ago.
She entered Quatre's room. After a while he heard Quatre whimper, and tensed. He glanced through the peephole and strove desperately to see if Quatre needed his help. His answer was no. Quatre and the woman were staring at each other. Her mouth was moving, but he could only faintly hear her words.
She exited his room, and Duo edged out into the hall. The woman walked down the hall and past the room that Duo was hiding out in. Her step didn't slow or falter as she passed, but her head turned and her eyes pierced into him. He swore silently and stumbled backwards, unconsciously brushing his skin free of the feeling of her stare.
Scared now, and utterly confused, Duo opened the door completely, and then halfway closed it again. Did he want to go out there and face her? Did he want to demand an explanation? Were his friends lives really worth facing that beast of a woman? His violet eyes squeezed shut. Of course they were. He was a Gundam pilot. He was born to take risks. And there was always a chance that she wouldn't kill him.
He opened the door and stood. Walking slowly out into the hall, he turned to that he was facing the direction she had gone, and then stopped. She was simply standing in the dead center of the hallway, completely expressionless. Her hair fell freely down the sides of her face, over her shoulders, and down to the floor. The dress seemed to have repaired itself, although it was still a light gray. The scars still wound across her face, chest, neck, and arms, but they seemed to be old wounds that had left impressions on her soul. She lifted her head slightly, and focused her soft blue eyes on his face.
"Who are you?" she asked softly, tears building in the back of her voice.
Reality shimmered, but then steadied. Duo's hands tightened on the gun he had leveled at her. "People call me Duo Maxwell," he said uneasily, wondering what it was about this woman that had frightened Quatre so badly.
When he had first seen her, she had radiated danger like nothing he had ever encountered, but facing her like this she seemed nothing more than a girl who had seen more pain than God should ever allow. A tiny smile curved her face.
"I like that name. Why is it that you could feel this house's soul when no one else could? Lady Silver is usually so good about deception," she said bitterly.
Duo did not let down his guard. There had to be a reason that Quatre had been terrified out of his mind. It was a trap! This act was only that: an act. The woman read his expression perfectly.
"Forgive me about Quatre. He could perceive more than the average human once he got beyond Silver's shields. I can't even see in my mirror what he saw in me. Are you going to answer my question?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but a dry whisper escaped. Duo wet his mouth and cleared his throat. "I don't know why. I was hoping that you could tell me. Who are you? What's going on here? Why are these things in this house? What is wrong with this place?"
The woman still hadn't moved from her position. "So many questions," she murmured. "Would you like to know my third discovery? I've discovered the true loss of self. I no longer have a name. I was once part of a person called Usagi. Usagi is truly the one who holds all of the answers," she said with a strange, ghostly smile.
Duo growled at her and took a half step forward. "Where can I find this Usagi person, then?"
Her smile began to take on an ominous edge. "Oh, she's long gone."
The woman was toying with him, he realized. The anger grew despite his efforts to hold it down. "Then why are you telling me about her?" he demanded. "It makes no sense! Who are you? Who is Usagi? What does Serenity have to do with everything? What is her connection to you?"
Suddenly the smile vanished from her face. "You don't listen very well, do you? I have told you. Usagi is the key to this entire puzzle. Unlock the puzzle and you find Usagi. But how can you unlock the puzzle to find the key? It's impossible, of course."
"Quit talking in riddles!" he roared.
She made no sound, but gazed at him for a while longer. A feeling grew in his stomach like a bubbling knot of black tar. The hallway bent and shuddered angrily under the pressure of many wrongdoings and insults to the balance of nature. She glanced to the side, and Duo followed her gaze. A man was standing there, smiling. He was handsome, but at the same time Duo seemed to be seeing a grinning skeleton. The man waved a bit, and then tossed something to Duo.
Don't drop it, his face seemed to say. Then the man was gone, and Duo was staring down at a piece of a crystal in his hands. Cold air rushed down the hallway towards the woman, blowing her hair backwards. Duo looked down towards where the wind came from and was shocked to find Serenity standing there alone. He was once again amazed at the resemblance between the two women.
"You," Serenity snarled.
"You," the woman acknowledged. "I find it amusing that you presume to call yourself Serenity, Usagi."
The silver haired woman bared her teeth. "I am not Usagi! That's you!"
Serenity's twin's cruel laugh rang out sharply. "You know very well that neither of us can claim either title, fool. You thought that we could simple go back together? Rejoin? Fix what was broken? Do you realize what would happen now? That thing you left me as a soul is broken. Torn. Polluted. It's not even a soul! And you! Pretty princess, reduced to stealing lives to keep herself alive! Never thought I'd see the day, and what a joyous day it is! Do you know why, Silver? Because it's our doom day," the woman said with a broad grin, grabbing a larger chunk of the crystal in her fist.
Serenity's face hardened, and she brought her hand up. "But I still have them. You kill me, and what happens? This house was built from my soul, not yours. I die, and this house does down with me. This house and what's in its inner chambers," she added with a malicious smile.
The woman stopped, stared, and then snarled. "You think that I care? How could I possibly care anymore?" she screamed. "You destroyed me! You ruined my soul! You let my mind go to waste! You left me alone for all these years, only even looking at me to put me back to sleep! You've destroyed all those lives! The blood here runs too thick for you to leave now, as I'm sure the clock's already told you," she said with a grin.
Serenity froze. "You know about the clock."
Laughing, the woman spread her fingers. "I put it there! It's our clock, Silver. I hid every clue anyone could possibly need to know in there, too! But it doesn't really exist, so I'm afraid you can't touch it!"
"What are you talking about? You're insane!"
A placid smile grew on the woman's face. "Oh, that very well may be true. But I've been here far longer than you have. Have you ever felt true oblivion, Silver? It goes for eternity. I have searched this house extensively, and have discovered it's secret. And that's my fourth discovery! Reality is only what you make it, Silver."
The floor buckled, and the air crackled around them. The woman didn't seem to notice. "Even now reality is breaking up from my presence. You should be proud of what we created together, Silver. Together, we created an abomination. I am the woman that should not exist. I am an imbalance on the scale. I shall leave you now, to the reality that you've made for yourself and your guests. Expect me to come for you later," she said softly.
Then before Serenity could do anything but stare, the woman turned and stepped into the mirror. Reality suddenly changed. The hallway was just a hallway. The walls were not crashing up and down, breaking against the floor. Serenity was just a woman, lost and afraid. The mirror was simply what it appeared to be. Then the reality he knew returned. The hallway was a dark tunnel, leading to a place that God never dared to go. The walls trembled with suppressed pain. Serenity was a statue of ice, turning away from the mirror and walking back down the hall and down the stairs. The mirror itself was a silver sheet, set in gold to reflect your soul, and the darkness that lay dormant within.
This was not a good place to be. Duo pocketed the crystal and walked silently into his room. He closed his door and locked it. He turned the mirror so that it was facing the wall. He shuttered the window tightly. He slept with his gun under his pillow.
I sat facing the window inside his room. I was amused to find that he had taken precautions against my entering his room, but unfortunately for him I had found a way. Duo Maxwell was much to interesting for me to simply leave him alone. Outside his room, the starry night sky should have been beautiful, but I kept on comparing it to my soul.
The night was a blanket of black, spotted here and there with pinpricks of light that were so far away that it took years for their light to be shown to the world. This was completely unlike my soul. My soul was naught. My soul shouldn't even be thought of. It was so inconsequential that it was almost humorous. I would never die anyways, so I suppose that it didn't even matter.
But I sometimes wondered about how I planned on coping with eternity. I assumed that I would eventually go mad. Or I would spell myself into a never ending sleep. I would program the spell to wipe my mind clean shortly afterwards, so that I would be unaware of the passage of time and the pressure of being alone.
Would that work? Or course not. I would be doomed to wander the halls of Rosethorn manor with its dead hosts for as long as time managed to keep on shuddering on. Depressing as it was, it was the truth of all three realities I had discovered. I was currently in the second one, which was the one that I commonly operated from. The second level was where Duo and Quatre occasionally entered into. Duo had seen the second level once in the parlor with Minako, and of course, Quatre had seen it when he was with me.
The second level of reality was sometimes a frightening place, but I found that it didn't bother me anymore. Once you became impartial enough, you didn't notice the manifestations of the negativity in the house. For that was all that inhabited the second level. Manifestations of rage, hate, pain, guilt, fear, and joy. Those few spirits of light were quickly dispensed of, which had made me sad for a while. That was back when I still considered myself to be salvageable, I suppose.
Now I realize that I am only one of those dark spirits that haunt the halls. I was once human of course, but that hardly mattered. I was no longer. I was a thing bent on revenge and the destruction of my other part. That would be the only logical way to end my suffering. If I was tied to the house and the house was tied to Serenity, it was only reasonable to assume that Serenity's death would liberate me. And since she built the house from the crystal and part of the crystal was in me, wouldn't I vanish with the house? I dearly hoped so.
Duo murmured something in his sleep, and I turned towards him. He looked so innocent, lying there. Untouched by the ages of the house, his face was unburdened by the absence of soul that lingered on others' faces. It was times like this that I really regretted doing what I did. I would always mourn the split and the misery it brought me, but I wished that I could have known Duo while I was alive and sane.
But it was just wishful thinking. Wishing never got anyone anywhere.
I stood and exited the way I came.
Duo lay silent on his bed, gazing at the place that she had been sitting.
***
He burst out laughing, twisting in his chains. The blood dripped down his shirt, giving him what he imagined to be a tragically dead look. This thought made him laugh harder. Oh, he had never laughed like this when he was alive! Never! Why? Because he knew now that life was a joke, and it was a funny one as far as he was concerned.
Rei gave him a look of total contempt and wiped the ice dagger on a red towel. "You're pathetic, you know," she said finally.
This made him laugh as well. Did she even know how funny she was? She was so emotionless, and then she went and told him how pathetic she was! Despite the ice dagger treatment, he could still feel. Why? He knew! He knew! He knew, and it was one of the most amusing things he had ever heard! He began to run out of breath, and so he gasped and wheezed so that he could return to laughing immediately. There were too many serious issues that needed to be laughed over.
Rei didn't show any reaction to his laughter, but her disgust showed plainly on her face. "You should have joined her. She was your wife."
For the first time since her visit, his laughter died, and he stared at her with intent blue eyes. "My wife died. My wife was a wonderful, beautiful, kind hearted woman. Usagi was my wife! Usagi is dead, and do you know what's funny about that? She was a great person, and she won't even go to heaven! Half of her is stuck in that woman you call my wife, and the other is in a crazed animal! THE WOMAN YOU CALL SERENITY IS NOT MY WIFE!"
Rei turned and left. The heavy door slammed closed, and he heard the lock turn, and then lock. He was silent. The cold pressed in around him, caressing the wound in his heart, searching for a way in. The warm, gold, Earth magic pushed the onslaught back only so far, but the ice was determined.
The echoing sound of silence rushed and screamed in his ears, making him giggle. It tickled. He prepared himself for the next bit of booming, terrifying laughter. It was the only thing that kept the terror and pain at bay. It was the only thing that kept his soul from being infected by the house's throbbing heartbeat.
Tears ran down his freshly shaved cheeks, mingling with the years of dried tears on his lips and on the collar of his shirt. His coal head bowed in tribute to the God he hoped was listening.
"Someone please help me, help me, help me, help me, help me please! Put me out of my misery, I beg, I beg, I beg, I beg of anyone! These chains hurt my wrists and I'd love to see the sky, but I won't see the sun unless my soul becomes a lie, and then what's the point?"
A fresh wave of grief rolled over him. "Oh God, someone set me free," he begged.
The next screaming laughter sounded through the house, intermingled with sobs of despair. No one would come. No one. He was all alone. The house kept those it wanted. It was a greedy place, and it fed off of those with hope.
The house could no longer plague him.
Hope had left for a better place.
C H A P T E R F O U R
'O God, why hast thou forsaken me?'
Everything was silent. If one could paint the emotion that the house felt, there would be nothing on the canvas besides a white space that stretched across the walls and twined deep into the floorboards. Then, if this painting were given life, one would undoubtedly see a tiny speck of crimson appear in the upper left corner of the white expanse. This pinprick of color would bleed downward, lending what might be called life if one was a very optimistic person. One would begin to make out a long hallway, leading to a thick door that twisted and moaned under some unseen wrong. The hallway itself would seem unreal, as if someone had warped it with years spent outside of the light. The red flow would begin to become too great for the painting to absorb, and everything would become draped in a scarlet cloak. Only then would one be able to see the figure wrapped tightly in thick, gnarled branches that stemmed from the walls, floors, and ceilings of every place the red tide touched. The red would continue building up, until one would no longer see anything except that figure and then its eyes would open and then all one would be able to see would be blue-
He did not make a sound. Quatre just sat there in his bed, sheets tangled around themselves at the corner of his bed. The darkness pressed around him, and he reached for the light switch, struggling to suppress the scream that would inevitably come.
Why was this happening to him? How was it that first of all Duo could sense what was going on, and then suddenly everything had been unveiled, leaving Quatre to bear the brunt of it? Why was everything feeling so terribly wrong?
A sigh whispered through his room, and he dug his fingernails into the richly decorated quilt. His training moved sluggishly into gear, while he mentally begged it to move more quickly. It did not. Once he finally remembered what to do, Quatre looked around his room anxiously, grappling with his fear and trying to decide whether he should simply make a break for it or do the insane and impossible, and wait for her to come. For he knew without a doubt that she would come for him.
He imagined how it would happen, a cold sweat beading on his brow. He would be laying there on the bed, striving not to scream or lash out against the shadows that would surround his bedside. The door would open. The dull yellow light would pour through the doorway onto his floor. He wouldn't look to the side, because he would be hoping with all of his heart that she wouldn't be there, and that everything was just a dream. He would hear the floorboards creak, and the terror would begin to build up in his chest. He would squeeze his eyes shut and pray to God that He would deliver his soul. No one would answer his plea, and he would hear a low, masculine laugh, filled with malice. The terror would flee from him, and he would be empty, waiting to look into her eyes. His eyes would open, and she would be there, standing above him, wearing a tattered white dress. He would stare at her and the scars running down her arms and face, and her dusty blonde hair as it fell freely to her feet. There would be a wave in her hair near her head, suggesting that there had once been pigtails there. Her head would be bowed, and then she would raise it and look into him with eyes filled with nothing except hurt and bottomless, bottomless blue. A strange, crooked smile would grace her lips, and she would reach out and nearly touch his cheek, but draw back. His cheek would sting where she nearly made contact.
"You amaze me," she would whisper in a voice like golden bells that had been broken and repaired wrongly.
He would open his mouth and the only thing that would come out would be a terrified gasp. She would let her eyes close halfway, loosening some of his fear. His hands would curl around the sheets, and she would glance down at them. Her muscles would bunch, and a wide smile would come to her face.
"Do you know something, Quatre Rabera Winner? I have discovered two things in my time here. There is no such thing as God. God would never let what has happened here happen. It would one of the great sins of mankind and the dead, Quatre Rabera Winner. Gabriel and Raphael cried for this wrong, and God sent four of his own to help. Did it help? No. They were drug into the depths of Hell, where even Satan cannot reach. Their wings were torn from their bodies and their halos were ripped from their hearts. The iron stake of immortality was hammered into their souls, and the great sins piled up on them like flies to a rotting fruit. The second thing that I have learned is that there are no good men or women in this house, and there are two great evils. Can you tell which is the lesser? Can I? It has taken me years to discover the two. It will take be centuries more to answer the next. Do you have a century to think, Quatre Rabera Winner? Or can you save yourself and yours before the seventh day?"
Then she would have said his name three times, and a cold hand would wrap around his heart and squeeze. He would open his mouth to scream, and the other phantom hand would reach down his throat and steal his words. The vice around his heart would contract, and his body would convulse with pain. It would tighten again, and the pain would move to an area that he would not be able to identify. It was everywhere and nowhere. It was in the core of his being. She would take his face his her hands and touch her dead lips to his feverish head.
"That's what your soul feels like when it's dying," she would whisper.
The hand would be gone from his throat and heart, and he would fall back on his bed, too full of pain to even cry. Her feet would press against the moaning floor, and her hand would touch the doorknob, and then fall away. She would turn down the hall to the right, and he would thank God or whoever might have saved him that his soul was still his.
But would it be?
He would sit back up in bed and clutch at his heart. Would there be an absence there? Would there be a hollow where his soul was supposed to be? Was there any way to tell? He hadn't even known what a soul felt like until he had felt its pain.
Quatre broke himself from his imaginings and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Pure foolishness. He should run. He should run fast and hard. She would come for him, and she would take whatever he thought was his. He made to swing his feet off the bed and froze.
Dull yellow light poured through his doorway, making a perfect square on his floorboard. Denial rose in his heart like a welling of lava from an erupting volcano. Shadows of men and women slanted across the square of light on his floor, and one of the shadows fell back and stood in the center.
There was a thump from under his bed, and he almost cried.
"Don't look under the bed, Quatre Rabera Winner," she whispered to him, her whispery laughter echoing around his room and in his head.
He whimpered and laid back down in a fetal position, stomach turning painfully. Which way do you turn when the enemy is a house?
Duo was not asleep.
He was ready for what he knew would come. Something had terrified Quatre so much that he had been reduced to a completely unintelligible state of insanity. Something had been laughing when they had found Quatre. Something had made the slashes on the paintings. Something had happened in the parlor the other day. Something had happened years and years ago that made everything else happen as well. Whether all the things were the same or completely different, he was determined to uncover what, exactly, was going on.
He had decided that the best way to find out was camp in the room beside Quatre's and wait. He wasn't sure whether the creature would actually come for Quatre or not, but he knew he had to be ready. What he was ready for, unfortunately, was not what he found. Things rarely were what anyone ever expected. Duo had been expecting a hideous monster, terrifying in it's grotesqueness.
What he found was a tiny slip of a girl. She wore a dress that he had seen on Serenity many times, although her version was very worn and tattered. The shell sleeves had been torn. The dress was a darker shade of gray, and had quite a few places where it had been worn through. Scars wound down her arms, and a thick beige scar streaked across her left cheek. Her feet were bare. Long blonde hair cascaded to her feet in tangled waves. He suddenly knew that once she had been beautiful. Once. Once very long ago.
She entered Quatre's room. After a while he heard Quatre whimper, and tensed. He glanced through the peephole and strove desperately to see if Quatre needed his help. His answer was no. Quatre and the woman were staring at each other. Her mouth was moving, but he could only faintly hear her words.
She exited his room, and Duo edged out into the hall. The woman walked down the hall and past the room that Duo was hiding out in. Her step didn't slow or falter as she passed, but her head turned and her eyes pierced into him. He swore silently and stumbled backwards, unconsciously brushing his skin free of the feeling of her stare.
Scared now, and utterly confused, Duo opened the door completely, and then halfway closed it again. Did he want to go out there and face her? Did he want to demand an explanation? Were his friends lives really worth facing that beast of a woman? His violet eyes squeezed shut. Of course they were. He was a Gundam pilot. He was born to take risks. And there was always a chance that she wouldn't kill him.
He opened the door and stood. Walking slowly out into the hall, he turned to that he was facing the direction she had gone, and then stopped. She was simply standing in the dead center of the hallway, completely expressionless. Her hair fell freely down the sides of her face, over her shoulders, and down to the floor. The dress seemed to have repaired itself, although it was still a light gray. The scars still wound across her face, chest, neck, and arms, but they seemed to be old wounds that had left impressions on her soul. She lifted her head slightly, and focused her soft blue eyes on his face.
"Who are you?" she asked softly, tears building in the back of her voice.
Reality shimmered, but then steadied. Duo's hands tightened on the gun he had leveled at her. "People call me Duo Maxwell," he said uneasily, wondering what it was about this woman that had frightened Quatre so badly.
When he had first seen her, she had radiated danger like nothing he had ever encountered, but facing her like this she seemed nothing more than a girl who had seen more pain than God should ever allow. A tiny smile curved her face.
"I like that name. Why is it that you could feel this house's soul when no one else could? Lady Silver is usually so good about deception," she said bitterly.
Duo did not let down his guard. There had to be a reason that Quatre had been terrified out of his mind. It was a trap! This act was only that: an act. The woman read his expression perfectly.
"Forgive me about Quatre. He could perceive more than the average human once he got beyond Silver's shields. I can't even see in my mirror what he saw in me. Are you going to answer my question?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but a dry whisper escaped. Duo wet his mouth and cleared his throat. "I don't know why. I was hoping that you could tell me. Who are you? What's going on here? Why are these things in this house? What is wrong with this place?"
The woman still hadn't moved from her position. "So many questions," she murmured. "Would you like to know my third discovery? I've discovered the true loss of self. I no longer have a name. I was once part of a person called Usagi. Usagi is truly the one who holds all of the answers," she said with a strange, ghostly smile.
Duo growled at her and took a half step forward. "Where can I find this Usagi person, then?"
Her smile began to take on an ominous edge. "Oh, she's long gone."
The woman was toying with him, he realized. The anger grew despite his efforts to hold it down. "Then why are you telling me about her?" he demanded. "It makes no sense! Who are you? Who is Usagi? What does Serenity have to do with everything? What is her connection to you?"
Suddenly the smile vanished from her face. "You don't listen very well, do you? I have told you. Usagi is the key to this entire puzzle. Unlock the puzzle and you find Usagi. But how can you unlock the puzzle to find the key? It's impossible, of course."
"Quit talking in riddles!" he roared.
She made no sound, but gazed at him for a while longer. A feeling grew in his stomach like a bubbling knot of black tar. The hallway bent and shuddered angrily under the pressure of many wrongdoings and insults to the balance of nature. She glanced to the side, and Duo followed her gaze. A man was standing there, smiling. He was handsome, but at the same time Duo seemed to be seeing a grinning skeleton. The man waved a bit, and then tossed something to Duo.
Don't drop it, his face seemed to say. Then the man was gone, and Duo was staring down at a piece of a crystal in his hands. Cold air rushed down the hallway towards the woman, blowing her hair backwards. Duo looked down towards where the wind came from and was shocked to find Serenity standing there alone. He was once again amazed at the resemblance between the two women.
"You," Serenity snarled.
"You," the woman acknowledged. "I find it amusing that you presume to call yourself Serenity, Usagi."
The silver haired woman bared her teeth. "I am not Usagi! That's you!"
Serenity's twin's cruel laugh rang out sharply. "You know very well that neither of us can claim either title, fool. You thought that we could simple go back together? Rejoin? Fix what was broken? Do you realize what would happen now? That thing you left me as a soul is broken. Torn. Polluted. It's not even a soul! And you! Pretty princess, reduced to stealing lives to keep herself alive! Never thought I'd see the day, and what a joyous day it is! Do you know why, Silver? Because it's our doom day," the woman said with a broad grin, grabbing a larger chunk of the crystal in her fist.
Serenity's face hardened, and she brought her hand up. "But I still have them. You kill me, and what happens? This house was built from my soul, not yours. I die, and this house does down with me. This house and what's in its inner chambers," she added with a malicious smile.
The woman stopped, stared, and then snarled. "You think that I care? How could I possibly care anymore?" she screamed. "You destroyed me! You ruined my soul! You let my mind go to waste! You left me alone for all these years, only even looking at me to put me back to sleep! You've destroyed all those lives! The blood here runs too thick for you to leave now, as I'm sure the clock's already told you," she said with a grin.
Serenity froze. "You know about the clock."
Laughing, the woman spread her fingers. "I put it there! It's our clock, Silver. I hid every clue anyone could possibly need to know in there, too! But it doesn't really exist, so I'm afraid you can't touch it!"
"What are you talking about? You're insane!"
A placid smile grew on the woman's face. "Oh, that very well may be true. But I've been here far longer than you have. Have you ever felt true oblivion, Silver? It goes for eternity. I have searched this house extensively, and have discovered it's secret. And that's my fourth discovery! Reality is only what you make it, Silver."
The floor buckled, and the air crackled around them. The woman didn't seem to notice. "Even now reality is breaking up from my presence. You should be proud of what we created together, Silver. Together, we created an abomination. I am the woman that should not exist. I am an imbalance on the scale. I shall leave you now, to the reality that you've made for yourself and your guests. Expect me to come for you later," she said softly.
Then before Serenity could do anything but stare, the woman turned and stepped into the mirror. Reality suddenly changed. The hallway was just a hallway. The walls were not crashing up and down, breaking against the floor. Serenity was just a woman, lost and afraid. The mirror was simply what it appeared to be. Then the reality he knew returned. The hallway was a dark tunnel, leading to a place that God never dared to go. The walls trembled with suppressed pain. Serenity was a statue of ice, turning away from the mirror and walking back down the hall and down the stairs. The mirror itself was a silver sheet, set in gold to reflect your soul, and the darkness that lay dormant within.
This was not a good place to be. Duo pocketed the crystal and walked silently into his room. He closed his door and locked it. He turned the mirror so that it was facing the wall. He shuttered the window tightly. He slept with his gun under his pillow.
I sat facing the window inside his room. I was amused to find that he had taken precautions against my entering his room, but unfortunately for him I had found a way. Duo Maxwell was much to interesting for me to simply leave him alone. Outside his room, the starry night sky should have been beautiful, but I kept on comparing it to my soul.
The night was a blanket of black, spotted here and there with pinpricks of light that were so far away that it took years for their light to be shown to the world. This was completely unlike my soul. My soul was naught. My soul shouldn't even be thought of. It was so inconsequential that it was almost humorous. I would never die anyways, so I suppose that it didn't even matter.
But I sometimes wondered about how I planned on coping with eternity. I assumed that I would eventually go mad. Or I would spell myself into a never ending sleep. I would program the spell to wipe my mind clean shortly afterwards, so that I would be unaware of the passage of time and the pressure of being alone.
Would that work? Or course not. I would be doomed to wander the halls of Rosethorn manor with its dead hosts for as long as time managed to keep on shuddering on. Depressing as it was, it was the truth of all three realities I had discovered. I was currently in the second one, which was the one that I commonly operated from. The second level was where Duo and Quatre occasionally entered into. Duo had seen the second level once in the parlor with Minako, and of course, Quatre had seen it when he was with me.
The second level of reality was sometimes a frightening place, but I found that it didn't bother me anymore. Once you became impartial enough, you didn't notice the manifestations of the negativity in the house. For that was all that inhabited the second level. Manifestations of rage, hate, pain, guilt, fear, and joy. Those few spirits of light were quickly dispensed of, which had made me sad for a while. That was back when I still considered myself to be salvageable, I suppose.
Now I realize that I am only one of those dark spirits that haunt the halls. I was once human of course, but that hardly mattered. I was no longer. I was a thing bent on revenge and the destruction of my other part. That would be the only logical way to end my suffering. If I was tied to the house and the house was tied to Serenity, it was only reasonable to assume that Serenity's death would liberate me. And since she built the house from the crystal and part of the crystal was in me, wouldn't I vanish with the house? I dearly hoped so.
Duo murmured something in his sleep, and I turned towards him. He looked so innocent, lying there. Untouched by the ages of the house, his face was unburdened by the absence of soul that lingered on others' faces. It was times like this that I really regretted doing what I did. I would always mourn the split and the misery it brought me, but I wished that I could have known Duo while I was alive and sane.
But it was just wishful thinking. Wishing never got anyone anywhere.
I stood and exited the way I came.
Duo lay silent on his bed, gazing at the place that she had been sitting.
***
He burst out laughing, twisting in his chains. The blood dripped down his shirt, giving him what he imagined to be a tragically dead look. This thought made him laugh harder. Oh, he had never laughed like this when he was alive! Never! Why? Because he knew now that life was a joke, and it was a funny one as far as he was concerned.
Rei gave him a look of total contempt and wiped the ice dagger on a red towel. "You're pathetic, you know," she said finally.
This made him laugh as well. Did she even know how funny she was? She was so emotionless, and then she went and told him how pathetic she was! Despite the ice dagger treatment, he could still feel. Why? He knew! He knew! He knew, and it was one of the most amusing things he had ever heard! He began to run out of breath, and so he gasped and wheezed so that he could return to laughing immediately. There were too many serious issues that needed to be laughed over.
Rei didn't show any reaction to his laughter, but her disgust showed plainly on her face. "You should have joined her. She was your wife."
For the first time since her visit, his laughter died, and he stared at her with intent blue eyes. "My wife died. My wife was a wonderful, beautiful, kind hearted woman. Usagi was my wife! Usagi is dead, and do you know what's funny about that? She was a great person, and she won't even go to heaven! Half of her is stuck in that woman you call my wife, and the other is in a crazed animal! THE WOMAN YOU CALL SERENITY IS NOT MY WIFE!"
Rei turned and left. The heavy door slammed closed, and he heard the lock turn, and then lock. He was silent. The cold pressed in around him, caressing the wound in his heart, searching for a way in. The warm, gold, Earth magic pushed the onslaught back only so far, but the ice was determined.
The echoing sound of silence rushed and screamed in his ears, making him giggle. It tickled. He prepared himself for the next bit of booming, terrifying laughter. It was the only thing that kept the terror and pain at bay. It was the only thing that kept his soul from being infected by the house's throbbing heartbeat.
Tears ran down his freshly shaved cheeks, mingling with the years of dried tears on his lips and on the collar of his shirt. His coal head bowed in tribute to the God he hoped was listening.
"Someone please help me, help me, help me, help me, help me please! Put me out of my misery, I beg, I beg, I beg, I beg of anyone! These chains hurt my wrists and I'd love to see the sky, but I won't see the sun unless my soul becomes a lie, and then what's the point?"
A fresh wave of grief rolled over him. "Oh God, someone set me free," he begged.
The next screaming laughter sounded through the house, intermingled with sobs of despair. No one would come. No one. He was all alone. The house kept those it wanted. It was a greedy place, and it fed off of those with hope.
The house could no longer plague him.
Hope had left for a better place.
