Dimande

She looked frail.

She did. She looked frail and weak and meager, as if she was collapsing in on herself. It took everything in my power to remain calm and encourage her to eat, but on the inside a storm was roaring, unhinged by the sight of her. There was no way I could force her to care for herself, but in that moment when I saw her lying there on her bed, broken by hunger, I came out of myself—something I swore I would not do.

It was true that I needed her power, and when I agreed to interlope her into this half-brained plan, I told myself repeatedly that I did not care for her like I used to. I cemented the image of Serenity in my mind—the treacherous, vindictive queen—and told myself no short of a thousand times that they were one in the same.

But Usagi, with her doe eyes and her fiery spirit, was not Serenity, at least not the one that I knew. They only compared in looks, and even then, the bitterness of Usagi's namesake was undetectable on her skin.

When I saw her standing below Tokyo Tower, I was immediately transported back to the first time we met and how she wiggled away from me, crawling back to that insufferable man she called her love.

Back then, I had pined for her in a way that seemed suffocating. Though I had conflated her for the version of her future self, not realizing how truly different they were. Infusing Tokyo with darkness should've been easy—the malefic black crystal was teeming with an unbridled power that should've eclipsed the silver millennium crystal. It was she, though, who cut through me and the others of the Black Moon Clan; it was she who believed those with evil in their heart could be turned to the light and rehabilitated, just like the Spectre Sisters.

Her soul was like electricity, bringing to life the idyllic fantasy that all people have the innate ability to be good. She made me believe that I had the ability to be good.

When she unleashed the power of the silver millennium crystal, it had been unlike anything I had ever seen. Of course Wiseman wanted to capture it, to snuff it out so it didn't stand in his way.

I was naive back then. Wiseman offered me an option that was difficult to pass up. The Black Moon Clan had been driven from Crystal Tokyo, labeled as the descendants of prisoners and thieves. We were brainwashed into believing Queen Serenity would lead us astray and that she offered immortality to a chosen few, none of which included the likes of us.

Of course we were angry. We were exiles, second-class citizens who did not deserve to live among those deemed worthy of the queen's favor. Wiseman saw our anger, and like any megalomaniac bent on controlling the universe, he preyed upon us.

He preyed upon me.

But I was free of him now. He had been destroyed by Sailor Moon's pure heart—Usagi's pure heart. It had been so many years ago, and based on the chatter I had heard from those floating in the River of Souls, he was not the only one that fell to her. I was in constant awe of her power even in death.

Now she lay in my castle, in sheets fitted for her bed, in gowns of silk I had commissioned for her. I told myself it was a means to an end and that I wouldn't let her aura rain over me like tranquil healing waters, but as I left her room, I was overcome. No matter how hard I tried to push her out of my mind, her sparkling blue eyes pierced my soul.

I walked down the long hallway from her room to mine, and closed the door securely behind me. When I arrived here, I had the pick of any room I chose. This one was covered in black, the only accoutrements being the gold wrought four poster bed and the giant gold desk shoved up against the window.

A fire was crackling in the large fireplace and I stared at the flames as they danced. It was just like the fire burning in me.

In the years since I had last seen her, she had most certainly grown. Her features had become much more defined, her figure had gotten fuller. Long lost was the girlhood she once possessed, the sense of innocence that only someone who hadn't experienced the cruelness of adulthood could muster.

Whatever she had done with her life in the years since, it was clear she had embraced herself. Her skin was tantalizingly smooth and she smelled like sweet, sugary vanilla. As she lay on her bed, it was all I could do to not stare at her barely-there slip of a nightgown. I pictured myself running my hands down her naked flesh, drawing a line from her collar bone with my tongue all the way down to her—

"Dimande," a voice echoed from the shadows. I was snapped back to reality. Looking over my shoulder, I could see the figure emerging from the darkness.

"Pitre," My voice was flat.

I had met Pitre just a few weeks ago. He was draped in a dark, crimson red cloak that fell over his eyes. All you could see was his thin mouth and his pasty white complexion. He didn't walk as much as he floated, and I never saw an inch of his skin that wasn't covered by thick layers of fabric.

"How is our little deal coming along?" You could tell Pitre was annoyed.

"I'm moving as quickly as I possibly can," I responded. He let out a low growl and came closer into the light. The curtains were already drawn in my room, blocking out any of the magical hue that glowed in this dimension's sky. All that was illuminating him was the burning orange and yellow from my fireplace.

He moved deftly around to my other side, so quickly that I almost couldn't see him. His bony hand extended out from his cloak and clasped my neck. His fingers wrapped around me and I struggled against him for air. As a prince, no one ever treated me this way, but Pitre was unlike any other being I'd encountered thus far.

At first, when I met him, I thought he was the Wiseman reincarnate. It was clear, though, that whatever power Pitre possessed it was undoubtedly a darker shade of magic. I asked him if he knew the Wiseman—or if he was the Wiseman—but he quickly told me that he was not. Instead he took a form of his likeness to reach me, which explained the furtive movements and the dark, brooding act. His true form, he said, would be revealed in due time.

And if I was willing to help him, he was willing to help me.

"I am not a patient man," he hissed, his fingers contracting. I choked out for air and he released me just slightly without letting me fall to the ground.

"I am…" I gasped. "I am...trying...I will...I promise…"

He dropped me and I fell flat onto the floor. Catching my breath, I rubbed my aching neck.

"Good," he said. "Because if you don't get her to comply…"

"I know the consequences." And truly, I did.

Pitre glided across the room and hung back near the shadows. He folded his hands back under his robe and slumped as if he was lounging on a chair.

"My deal is fair, Dimande," Pitre said wryly. "I didn't bring you back to dawdle."

"I am far from dawdling," I said. "These things take time."

It was I now who crossed the room. I walked to the grand desk and grabbed the crystal decanter sitting on a golden tray, pouring myself a glass of wine. I could feel the heat rising in me as Pitre's gaze bore holes into my back. While I had never seen his eyes, I couldn't help but picture them as inky black orbs that sucked all the air and emotion out of any room.

Even when I had done it, I knew I was making a deal with the devil. A smarter man would've run from him, would've accepted their fate as they flowed down the River of Souls, but I was not a smarter man. After all that we had endured, I was desperate to avenge not only myself, but my people as well.

I had led them astray once. I had to fix the mess I had made.

"Lost in thought?" Pitre's voice rippled across me.

I took a long sip from my glass and closed my eyes. Since Usagi had come to the castle, Pitre's presence had become an even bigger concern. He hung around the castle like a ghost, weaving in and out of the shadows whenever he saw fit. He pestered when he didn't get the answer he was looking for, a celestial micromanager whose sense of urgency made me nervous.

When we agreed to our deal, I did not ask him what he needed the crystal for-not really, anyway. I knew there was some other, larger purpose why he wanted it—bigger than the one he was selling to me—but I was much too focused on fulfilling my own needs. I promised myself that once he helped me, I would put this entire episode in the back of my mind, and I would do everything in my power to never strike such a deal again.

But the thought consumed me: What if he was always going to be lurking? Had he unchained me, or had he just tied a tighter noose?

"When this is over," I said, "will you promise to never return?"

Despite not looking at him, I knew his lips were curled in a sickly smile. This was a conversation we had avoided since arriving in Pitre's crystal castle, one that we both danced around. The terms of our agreement, I felt, were intentionally vague. When he revived me, plucking me from the river like he was born to do it, he had found me in a spot of desperation. I did not care that it seemed he was giving me so much and received so little in return.

I did not quite yet think there was a bigger cost I was meant to endure.

Some might call me foolish for doing what I did, especially after the predicament I found myself in with Wiseman, but this time I vowed to be smarter. I put blind faith into Wiseman. I would not make the same mistake with Pitre.

"It depends what you mean by return," he said. "I have no intention of sticking by your side, if that's what you mean."

It wasn't what I meant, exactly. What I wanted to know was where he intended to go—what he intended to do—after he had the silver millennium crystal. I needed to understand why he had found me in that river over everyone else, what knowledge or power I possessed that made him seek me out.

But I knew better than to poke a sleeping bear. I turned to look at him, my glass still firmly in my hand, and I took another long sip.

"When the Black Moon Clan comes back," I chose my words very carefully, "you're more than welcome to join us—even if it's just for a bit. It's the least I can do for your generosity."

"The least you can do is get me that crystal." He sounded impatient.

"These things take time," I said softly. "But know it's just as important to me as it is to you."

"Good," his voice was cold. "I'm glad to hear that."

He moved toward the fireplace and once again unsheathed his hand from his long cloak. His palm extended toward the fire as if he was gathering its heat, and he flexed his fingers out. Bits of purple light swirled from him and touched down on the top of the flames. Suddenly, the orange and yellow embers became a blazing violet and blue, jumping in and out of a black core.

"I must be going now," he said calmly. "But remember Dimande. If you don't fulfill my request, I will be forced to do it myself."

He lurched forward and the flames spat out at him. Each lick of fire curved around him until he was almost entirely engulfed.

"Because if you don't get the crystal from her, I will most certainly kill her."

When he left, it was as if all of the air in the room had been sucked out with him. A few seconds passed and the fire was back roaring as it normally did, and the stuffiness that was just suffocating me released like a cool and gentle breeze. I stared at the hearth for a long while after that, half expecting he would return, but he never did. From the crack in the curtains, I could see the sky was beginning to change into night and I knew it was almost time for me to join Usagi for dinner.

As I exited my room, I was greeted by Rubeus. I pitied him. He was just as lost as I was in the River of Souls and when I told him what I planned to do, he begged me to let him stay floating among the dead. Ultimately it wasn't his choice—it was mine.

"How was the tour?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Fine," he said. "The only part she really seemed to care about was the River of Souls."

"And what did you tell her?"

"The truth." He did very little to hide his indignation toward me.

"I know you're frustrated with me," I said, trying my hardest to be sympathetic. "But I'm doing what is necessary."

"Necessary?" He laughed. "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

"I do," I was growing tense. "Which is precisely why I need to rectify the situation."

Rubeus rolled his eyes. "You've done enough damage, Dimande," he hissed. "You've already killed me once, only to drag me back from the gates of hell to do your bidding once more. Do you really think she's going to help you? That she's going to understand why you're doing all of this?"

"She might," I replied.

"You're a fool," he said. He turned on his heel and began to walk away through the corridor. Anger washed over me.

"That is no way to speak to your prince." I grabbed his arm and swung him back around so we could face each other. His expression was flat and unforgiving, his eyes simmering a deep hatred beneath his skin. He shoved me off, shaking his arm free and leaned in.

"You're no prince of mine," he seethed. I was not shocked by his admission; it had been clear since the day Rubeus and I had come to the crystal castle that he did not want to be involved with me any further. But he used to be my right hand man, the general of my army. Now he could barely stand to look at me.

"Enjoy your dinner," he called out as he walked away. "I'd rather starve than dine with the likes of you."

And with that he disappeared from view, the only thing left of him was the echo of his shoes clicking against the polished marble floor.