Content warnings: creepy atmosphere, possession/mind control, child endangerment, slight eye horror, general angst


Adabat was wet.

The moment Pretzel and Whip stepped through the door, they were met with grey skies and lashing rain. Last time they'd visited it had been raining, too, but… wasn't it supposed to be the dry season? Was this a Gaia fragment thing? And if it was raining last time, that meant whatever fragment was here had been active before Pretzel even knew the fragments were a thing. Which made sense, but it still unnerved her to think of all the pieces of her power that had been wreaking havoc in the world without her knowing all this time.

"It's so wet," Whip whined, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked around hopefully for an escape from the rain. They'd been dumped in the middle of an open street, oddly empty for the time of day. Maybe the weather was keeping everyone inside.

"C'mon," Pretzel said, resisting the urge to laugh. With his fur soaked as it was, Whip looked decidedly pathetic. "Let's look around."

She slunk out into the street, Whip reluctantly trailing after her. He tried to keep to the shelter of the overhanging roofs when he could, but with the rain at an angle as it was they did little to protect him. Watching him wade miserably through the puddles, Pretzel was torn between amusement and pity. They should have asked if Amy had any raincoats before they left.

Suddenly Whip perked up. "Pretzel! Over there!"

He pointed across the street to a food cart sitting alone in the rain, and before Pretzel could react he was already racing over. She hurried after him. With the rain she would have expected any street vendors to have gone home (or at least parked under a roof), but no, the cart was definitely open and inhabited. As they neared it she made out the sounds of… sobbing? Was someone crying?

"Why are you crying?" Whip asked, hovering in front of the food cart with a furrowed brow.

The vendor (judging by the apron, anyway) was draped over the counter and sobbing into his arms. He didn't even seem to hear Whip's question. Pretzel looked around with a frown, trying to pinpoint her sense of unease. The empty street gave her no answers. Sure, there could be any number of reasons the vendor was so upset, but something about it…

Cautiously, Pretzel reached out, brushing lightly against the vendor's mind. Immediately she recoiled. Yes, there was definitely something unnatural about the vendor's mood. A dark cloud hung over his mind, not something produced by his own brain chemistry, but rather pushed on him from outside. She recognized that touch. It was the same trick she'd used on Sonic to snap him from Light Gaia's control, a trick she still regretted. Even if it had seemed necessary at the time, it had also been cruel. Trapping someone's mind in nightmares of their own making… If she'd had any doubts that the Adabat fragment was a piece of Dark Gaia, they were all gone now.

"It's the fragment," she told Whip. "It's messing with his mind."

Whip gasped. "That's so mean! Making him sad for no reason like that!" And then, before Pretzel could think to stop him, he reached out and laid his hand on the vendor's.

Immediately the vendor snapped upright, a broad smile on his face even as residual tears continued to run down his cheeks. "Hello! It's so nice to meet you!" he said in an unnaturally cheerful tone.

Pretzel stumbled back. The empty smile, the pupilless eyes, the fake chipper tone— And Whip still had his hand on the man, smiling that creepy smile right back at him.

"Whip," Pretzel said, voice strained. He didn't respond. "Whip! Stop it!"

"Is something wrong?" The possessed man asked her with mock concern, his smile suddenly menacing.

"WHIP!" Pretzel snapped, grabbing Whip's arm to pull him away. She gasped and jerked back. Touching him burned. The fur on her palms turned black, and a nauseating scorched smell filled the air.

"Pretzel?" Whip blinked at her, and suddenly everything was back to normal. The vendor was hunched over his counter again, and Whip wasn't smiling, just looking at her with concern. "Is something wrong?"

Pretzel looked at her hands. Normal. Unburnt. Even the pain was gone. She clenched her fists and swallowed. "Nothing," she said, hoping it was true. Unease trickled down her spine, icier than the rain. "It was nothing." She turned away from the food cart and his round, innocent eyes. Don't think about it. Focus on the mission. "Come on. We can help him by stopping the fragment."

"Yeah!" Whip agreed, concern forgotten.

He left the vendor with a last conciliatory pat (that thankfully didn't seem to cause a reaction this time, though Pretzel still tensed) and flew after her. Together they headed down the street. Pretzel was relieved when the vendor was out of view.

"Soooo… how are we going to find the fragment?" Whip asked after a respectable thirty seconds of silence.

"I don't—" Pretzel started, then drew up short. Someone was looking at them, peeking around the corner of a nearby building. A little girl, it looked like, though it was hard to make them out through the rain. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" Whip asked, following her gaze. "Oh! I think I know her! Hi!"

The little girl blinked at them, then without warning turned and took off through the rain.

"Wait! Nagi!" Whip called, but the girl kept running. He started to follow, but Pretzel grabbed his arm, stopping him short.

"We need to be careful," Pretzel urged. "We don't know what the fragment's planning."

"Maybe it's like Midnight," Whip suggested optimistically. "Maybe it just wants to play!"

Pretzel remembered the vendor. That didn't strike her as playful. "Just… be careful," she said, letting go of his arm.

The girl—Nagi, Whip called her—had stopped in the street ahead of them. She waved her hand in a beckoning motion before turning and running onward.

"See? She wants us to follow!" Whip grinned and took off after her.

Pretzel followed, chest still tight with unease. This whole thing felt like the set-up of a horror movie. What did the fragment want?

Her unease only grew as Nagi led them out of the town and into the jungle nearby. Even Whip slowed uncertainly as the undergrowth grew denser and darker around them, and still Nagi led them on, beckoning them playfully. At last they reached a clearing in the jungle, split by a deep ravine. Nagi ran right toward the crack in the ground as if she didn't see it.

"Nagi!" Whip called, panicked. "Nagi, stop! You'll fall!"

Nagi turned, gave them one last smile, and then collapsed into the mud.

Whip gasped and lunged forward, but Pretzel held him back. Together they watched, transfixed, as something like a shadow flowed out of Nagi's body, growing and twisting until the monster took form.

It was bipedal and Mobian-like in appearance, as Midnight had been, but this creature was a far cry from Midnight's childlike innocence. It was tall and lean, with a long, curling tail tipped by a scorpion-like barb, and sharp, wicked claws that seemed to glow in the dark of the jungle. Matching spines ran down its back and tail like a dorsal fin, and slender spikes framed its face and adorned its wrists and ankles. It was covered in short, dark brown fur, with scales running down its underbelly and glowing markings on its face, hands, and feet. Its eyes—all three of them—were a poisonous green.

In short? It looked like Pretzel. A taller, leaner, more threatening version of Pretzel.

"Hey," the fragment said, baring her fangs in a lazy grin. "I'm Twist. And welcome—" she did a little theatrical twirl, extending her arms to indicate the jungle as a whole. "—to my game board."

Whip took a step forward, even though his fur puffed with fear. "What did you do to Nagi?"

"Oh, her?" Twist glanced down at the child slumped in the mud. She crouched down and turned Nagi over, poking at her like she was an interesting insect. "She's resting."

Whip moved as if to lunge at Twist, but Pretzel kept hold of his arm, pulling him back.

Twist smirked at them as she scooped Nagi into her arms, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The gesture was undermined by the way she laid her hand on Nagi's collarbone, claws resting against Nagi's throat. The warning was clear.

"I've put her to sleep," Twist explained, smiling down at the child in her arms. "I've put them all to sleep." She looked up at Pretzel, and Pretzel dug her claws in to the mud, resisting the urge to run from those piercing, poisonous eyes. "Isn't it nice? So quiet and peaceful. Happy people are so loud. Don't you get tired, Pretzel, of all the noise, noise, noise? All that smiling and laughter. It's obnoxious, really. Don't you wish you could just make it all stop?"

"Shut up," Pretzel snapped. "Don't act like we're the same."

"You made everyone sad!" Whip said, glaring at Twist. "You're a monster!"

Twist barely spared him a glance. She was still looking at Pretzel with those eyes that saw too much. "If you're so much better than me, why don't you prove it?"

"What do you mean?" Trepidation coiled like a physical weight in Pretzel's chest. They were treading on dangerous ground. Twist clearly wasn't like the other fragments. This was no primal force of nature, no misunderstood child. This was a cunning and malicious intelligence. Wasn't Pretzel supposed to be a Gaia, a force of nature, even a deity? Why did she feel so helpless?

"A game," Twist purred, tracing a claw down Nagi's sleeping face. "You against me. If you win, I'll let everyone wake up. And if I win…" She flashed a fanged smile. "Then you enter a nightmare of your own."

Pretzel swallowed. A nightmare of her own. What if Twist could do to Pretzel what Pretzel had done to the other fragments? What if Twist could make Pretzel into a monster?

"We won't play with you!" Whip snapped, stepping in front of Pretzel and flaring his wings. He put on a good show, but Pretzel could see the tremble in his hands, the frightened twitch of his ears. "We'll—we'll just take Nagi anyway! You can't stop both of us!" He moved towards Twist.

"Ah ah ah," Twist chided, her claws back at Nagi's throat. "Are you sure you want to try that?"

Whip hesitated, glancing from Twist to Nagi.

"Don't," Pretzel warned. "If we try to attack, she could hurt Nagi before we reach her."

Whip reluctantly stepped back and folded his wings, eyes still on Nagi.

"Now you get it." Twist grinned at Pretzel. "So, what do you say? Game on?"

Whip glanced anxiously at Pretzel. This was not a situation he knew how to handle; it was up to her, then. She squeezed her eyes shut, digging her claws deeper into the mud. A game. She could play a game, couldn't she?

If I win, you enter a nightmare of your own.

Don't think about that.

"Fine," Pretzel spat, looking up at Twist. "What are the rules?"

"It's simple," Twist said.

She laid her hand on Nagi's face, and suddenly the girl's eyes sprang open. But they looked… wrong. Clouded. Lightless. Twist set Nagi on her feet and gave her a nudge. The girl moved like a sleepwalker, shambling across the clearing and towards the ravine. Whip gasped, but Nagi didn't fall off the edge. Instead she walked to a small tree that leaned over the ravine. Then she started climbing, up the tree's trunk and then onto its branch. There she stood, the slender branch the only thing keeping her from plunging into the ravine below. She stayed there, perfectly still, a lifeless puppet waiting for its next orders.

"Bring her back!" Whip cried, fists clenched.

"Ah, but then we wouldn't have a game, would we? Now here are the rules. You and I, Pretzel, will take turns telling riddles. The other player has to guess the answer. And if you take too long—say, more than thirty seconds—or get an answer wrong—" Twist gestured to Nagi, and the girl took a step forward. The branch shook beneath her. Whip whimpered.

"And of course, if you try to cheat, the game ends immediately," Twist continued, as casually as if they were playing Uno. "In that case, I'll make her jump immediately."

Pretzel forced herself to keep her eyes on Twist. Twist, who enjoyed hurting people. Twist, who was smiling, cruel and vicious. Twist, who would threaten an innocent girl. Never had Pretzel wanted to hurt someone more than she did looking at that leering shadow. Twist was the worst of Dark Gaia, the worst of Pretzel. And Pretzel hated her with a seething rage like nothing she'd ever felt before.

It's all a mind game, she reminded herself. Don't let her distract you. She wouldn't lose her temper like Whip. Her hate, her anger, it wasn't the hot and blinding thing that Whip's was. Hers was cold. Clear. Calculated. She wouldn't let it cloud her mind.

Whatever it took, she'd get Nagi to safety. She'd prove Twist wrong.

"And what if you get a riddle wrong?" Pretzel challenged. "What's your punishment?

"That's for you to decide. But you already have, haven't you?" Twist smiled, eyes dark. "Yes, you've been planning the perfect punishment for a long time now."

Pretzel held her gaze. The cold hate seemed to wrap around her like armor. A reassuring numbness, a lens through which to view the world without all the cloudiness of sentimentality and feeling. Yes, she knew exactly what the perfect penalty would be. "Your punishment will be Whip."

"W-what?" Whip started. "Pretzel, what do you—"

"Every time you get a riddle wrong," Pretzel continued, ignoring him. "Whip will put his hand on your eye for ten seconds."

"How is that a punishment?" Whip glanced from Pretzel to Twist, bewildered.

Twist smiled, all fangs. A crocodile grin. "And I lose when I can't take it anymore. Cruel indeed. I knew I liked you."

Pretzel scowled. "I'm just doing what it takes to stop you."

"Pretzel," Whip said, reaching a hand out to her. Pretzel flinched at his touch. The warmth felt strange. "Pretzel, I don't think we should—"

"I've made up my mind," Pretzel growled, not looking away from Twist. "Let's start the game already."

Whip reluctantly stepped back, wings still fluttering anxiously.

"I'll go first." Twist's tail lashed lazily across the ground, swinging like a pendulum. "It can't be seen, can't be touched, can't be heard, and yet is feared. What is it?"

"Darkness," Pretzel said. "That's obvious."

"So it is," Twist agreed, still grinning. "Your turn."

Alright. Pretzel could do this. Riddles. She could think of a riddle. She just wished Whip would stop making distracting worried noises.

"Clock's ticking," Twist reminded her. On the branch Nagi shifted as if preparing to take a step.

Pretzel gritted her teeth. A riddle, a riddle, she'd read riddles before. "Alive without breath, cold as death, and always drinking yet never thirsty. What is it?"

"A good one," Twist hummed. "Alive without breath…"

Pretzel counted in her head, tail twitching with nervous energy.

"Alive without breath…" Twist murmured again.

"Thirty seconds!" Pretzel said. "It's been thirty seconds."

"It was fish, wasn't it?" Twist guessed, but she obligingly knelt down to Whip's level.

Whip looked at Pretzel uncertainly. She nodded. He stepped up to Twist and laid a hand on her eye. Twist hissed in pain, smoke rising from the point of contact, and Whip jerked back, wide-eyed.

Twist straightened, stumbling slightly as she put a hand to her eye. "Painful," she said, pulling her hand away at last and looking almost… intrigued. "Very painful. Are you hoping to throw me off my game with this punishment?"

Pretzel bared her teeth, trying not to look at Whip still staring at his hand. "Just give me the next riddle."

Twist rolled her eyes. "Fine. It reaches for the sky, but clutches to the ground. Sometimes it leaves, but it's always around. What is it?"

Pretzel furrowed her brow. Reach for the sky, clutch to the ground… Her eyes drifted to Whip, who was holding his hand to his chest, expression painfully lost. No. Focus. Find the answer.

"Time's up," Twist chided. "Really, Pretzel. It's a tree. Even a child could have figured that out. And speaking of…" She grinned as Nagi took a step forward. The branch shook under her, and Pretzel instinctively jerked forwards before stopping herself. If she overstepped, Twist would make the girl jump. How many steps would it be before Nagi reached the end of the branch? Three? Four?

The game went on. Twist was good, unfortunately. She had a way with words. Pretzel's attempts, by comparison, seemed far too blunt and obvious. Nevertheless, Twist did seem… confused by certain things. Her knowledge of the modern day was far more scattered and uncertain than Pretzel's, based on distant observation rather than actual experience. For all her pretending, Twist hadn't actually been alive that long. Pretzel used that.

Though Nagi drew closer and closer to the end of the branch, Whip's burns—he'd refused to touch Twist's eye again, and Pretzel couldn't blame him—were having an effect. Twist still put on the calm, confident face, but her gritted teeth and lashing tail told another story. She seemed to sway a little on her feet, and she took longer to come up with and answer the riddles. Her focus was fraying. Twist was wearing down, but slowly, too slowly. Nagi was nearly to the end of the branch.

"You're running out of time," Twist said, as if she'd read Pretzel's thoughts. "One more mistake and she's dead. But I'll offer you a deal: guess one last riddle, and you win the game."

Pretzel narrowed her eyes suspiciously, claws digging into the mud. She glanced at Nagi, balancing precariously on the shuddering branch. Another step, and she'd be gone. "One riddle? And the previous terms still hold?"

"One riddle. Guess correctly, and I'll wake the girl and return her safely home. Guess wrong, and…" she grinned. "Well, you know what happens."

Pretzel glanced at Whip. He stared back at her, round-eyed, worried… and hopeful. It hit her like a bullet to the chest. Whip thought she could pull this off. Whip believed in her. Why?

"Alright," Pretzel said. "I'll take your bet."

"Good. Then here's the riddle." Twist held Pretzel's gaze, poison green eyes almost hypnotic. "What am I?"

Pretzel blinked. What was Twist?

"That's easy. You're—" Pretzel's voice broke off.

Whip was looking at her. Whip was looking at her with wide, innocent eyes. Whip was looking at her, full of faith in his sister to defeat this monster. Whip believed in her. Whip cared about her. And Whip would hate her if he knew the truth.

"Well?" Twist taunted, and Pretzel hated her, hated her voice, hated her eyes, hated her cruel grin, hated everything about her. "I thought you said it was easy. You know the answer, but if you don't want to say it, well…" She shrugged. "Your choice, I suppose. You never did like children."

"I know what you are," Pretzel spat, the hatred bubbling out of her like venom. "You're a heartless, lying monster playing games with people's lives."

Something unreadable passed over Twist's face. Then she laughed. "You're right," she grinned, all fangs. "I am heartless."

Twist disappeared. Nagi jumped. Whip screamed.

Pretzel launched herself off the edge of the chasm. She wasn't nearly a fast enough flyer to catch Nagi before she hit the rocks, but she didn't need to be. Pretzel pulled on the cool shadows around her—and, more importantly, around Nagi. Eagerly they wrapped around Nagi's sleeping form, shielding her as she tumbled down, and down, and—stopped, thudding onto a ledge. The shield dissipated as Pretzel landed beside her. The child was unharmed, still sleeping peacefully.

Whip joined her in an anxious flutter, pawing worriedly at Nagi's face before looking up at Pretzel.

"She's fine," Pretzel said.

"How did you do that?" Whip asked, his expression uncomfortably… awed.

Pretzel shrugged. "While Twist was distracted by you burning her, I prepped the shadows around Nagi. By the time she jumped they were already partly made into a shield, so I didn't have to do much to get it up in time."

She'd tried making shields around other things before. It was trickier than just throwing up a shield around herself, and making a shield for someone or something bigger than Pretzel—even if they were still relatively small, like Nagi—was especially hard. It had been easier, for a little while, after she absorbed Midnight, but her shadow constructs seemed to have weakened again. Something Twist had done? Or did the energy boosts from the fragments simply wear off with time? It didn't matter; she'd had plenty of time to work on the shield while Twist was distracted with pain and riddles, and it had proved strong enough to keep Nagi alive. That was all that mattered.

"That was smart," Whip said with open admiration. It made Pretzel uncomfortable. He looked around. "Did you know she'd land on this ledge?"

Pretzel shook her head. "I guess Twist misjudged where to make her jump." Or she knew she'd land here and this really was just an elaborate mind game, she added to herself. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Thankfully Nagi stirred before they could discuss it further. She blinked in confusion at her surroundings, then at Pretzel and Whip. She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. "Where… where am I?"

"You're safe," Whip assured her, smiling warmly. "We'll help take you home."

Pretzel and Whip worked together to fly her out. Either one of them might have been able to handle the weight alone, but it was more comfortable for Nagi if they both carried her. (And Pretzel's strength from Hurricane seemed to have faded as well. It was fine. Nothing to worry about.) Then they led her through the jungle until she spotted the town and ran off ahead, calling excitedly for her parents. The rest of Adabat seemed to have recovered from their spell, and several people wandered the streets, looking bewildered. The rain had stopped, and a hint of sun broke through the clouds.

Pretzel grabbed Whip's arm to stop him from following Nagi into her house, and together they listened from the roof as Nagi was welcomed by her overjoyed parents.

Whip beamed. "I feel like a real superhero now!"

Pretzel rolled her eyes. "I don't think finding one kid lost in the jungle makes you a superhero."

Whip hardly seemed to notice. He was watching the streets, which were quickly becoming more busy. "All the people seem happier now. Does this mean Twist is gone? Did you…" he hesitated. "Did you. Um. Understand her?"

"No, I didn't." Pretzel hadn't absorbed Twist like she had the other fragments, but as long as she was gone it didn't matter, did it? "I defeated her the normal way."

Whip looked relieved. "You wouldn't have wanted a power up from her, anyway. She was bad."

"Yeah," Pretzel muttered, looking at her claws. Her chest twisted painfully. Whip was right; she of all people knew he was right. So why did it still hurt to hear him say it? "Yeah, she was bad. Irredeemable, even. It's good she's gone." Assuming she was gone. What if she came back?

"Stop looking worried," Whip said, poking her face. "We beat her! All by ourselves! We're awesome!"

Pretzel swallowed the pain. Whip was right. Twist was gone and Adabat was saved. This was a victory. Twist didn't deserve her grief. "Of course we beat her. Have you seen us?"

"Yeah!" Whip bounced up and down. "We're like monster-hunting masters! Monster-hunting heroes!"

"Any fragment would be an idiot to show their face around us," Pretzel agreed, returning his grin. She let his excitement drown out her doubt.

Heroes. Maybe this would work. Maybe this would be her redemption.