Adjective; at the point of death.
Maka is staring at her ceiling when her alarm goes off, the beeping adding to the headache building in her temples. Reaching over without looking, she smacks her phone and hears it fall from her nightstand.
The alarm continues to nag at her from the floor.
Grinding her teeth, she flings her covers away, and sees them join her phone on the floor. Biting back her scream, Maka scrambles out of bed and snatches the phone from the ground, poking the screen violently until the alarm goes silent.
Balling up her blankets, she dumps them on her bed, then goes to her door, listening hard for Spirit before she opens the door and goes into the hallway. When she enters the bathroom, she avoids looking at herself in the mirror until after she's washed her face.
The whites of her eyes are still very red, faint shadows blooming underneath, and her entire face looks washed out. If she goes downstairs looking like this, Spirit won't leave her alone until she talks, and then she will break entirely.
"It doesn't matter," she whispers to her reflection, hands curling around the edges of the sink. "I'm still going."
She repeats this to herself over and over as she gets ready, and by the time Maka is finishing tying back her hair, she has managed to mold herself into the semblance of appearing normal.
Spirit gives her a smile that turns into a yawn as she enters the kitchen. "I see we're both up and ready to go today."
"I have some errands to run," she replies, taking a bowl from the dish rack and squeezing Spirit in a quick hug. "There are some things I'm missing for the trip tomorrow."
"What are they?" asks Spirit, gaze fixed on the newspaper in front of him as he sips his orange juice. "I could stop by after work and get them for you."
"It's alright, I need something to do." She opens the door to the pantry, taking out a box of cereal. "I might make a day of shopping since school is coming."
Spirit lets out a light snort. "You are the only one I know who has looked forward to school starting again."
"Well, learning is fun and it keeps my mind occupied."
There's a slight rustle as Spirit lowers his paper. "Occupied?"
"Yeah, I'm not sure what I would think about if I didn't have school," she says, joining him at the table. It's a lie, but only a small one. "I'd probably daydream, I guess."
"About the boy I'm not supposed to know about?" Spirit's tone is teasing, but his smile fades when he looks at her face. "Maka?"
"I'm sorry," he says awkwardly when she doesn't answer. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's not you." She doesn't know why she chooses to answer instead of staying silent. "We've finally talked."
"Oh." She keeps her gaze on her cereal, but she can tell Spirit's eyes are bugging out of his head. A beat passes as he struggles with himself. "And?"
"He feels the same way," she says, thinking back to the moment before Soul forced her out of the dark; she'd felt everything in him then.
"Oh." Spirit is quiet for much longer this time. Finally, in a voice that cracks, he says, "Isn't that good?"
She has to pull the words from her throat this time. "It would be if he thought we should be together."
Curiosity mixed with relief enters Spirit's words. "Why does he think that?"
There's no easy generality she can fix this part in. "It's complicated."
"Relationships often are."
She dares to lift her gaze to Spirit, who suddenly twists closer to Maka. "Wait, he isn't rejecting you because you're less popular than him or something, is he?"
Her eyes go back to her cereal. "No, Papa, it's nothing like that."
"Good." The indignance in Spirit's voice fades. "Otherwise, I would have had to pay him a visit."
"Please don't."
After a moment, she adds, "Part of it is because he doesn't think he's good enough, I guess."
Spirit takes a sip of his orange juice before he answers. "Well, you know I think no one is good enough for you," he says. Reluctantly, he tacks on, "Though if you really like this boy, then he must be alright enough."
"More than that," she says, lifting her eyes.
"I'm going to tentatively take your word on that," he says after a moment. "However," Spirit continues, looking to Maka. "You can help people see what they are, but you can't make them."
Her eyebrows raise. "And that means?"
"You're going to have to wait on him to come to his senses," says Spirit. "Or move on," he adds hopefully.
She rolls her eyes, but at least she's not on the verge of crying anymore. "Thanks, Papa."
"I try to be helpful," he replies as he rises, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "But if this boy changes his mind, I would like to meet him."
Narrowly, she bites off a humorless laugh. "Of course, Papa."
Blair sways from where she perches on Maka's shoulder, eyeing the spaces between the branches bobbing in the wind. "I don't like coming to this place," she repeats. "We should go."
"You don't have to be here," Maka says, the wind carrying her voice away. She speaks a little louder, hoping the wind won't be this strong in Silver Canyon. "You can wait for me here, if you want." The ground is gradually becoming softer, and the trees are starting to thin, a sign they are almost to the swamp.
"There would be no point to me coming at all, then," the cat says grumpily, settling back on her shoulder. "Blair made a promise."
Maka snorts, but reaches up to scratch the area between Blair's ears. The cat's visited her nightly in the past month, clawing at the window to be let in so she "watch over her", an insistence on the cat's part that Maka indulged. And it has been comforting to have Blair curled up next to her when she returned from seeing Soul over the past weeks, softening the loneliness of leaving, although she hadn't let the cat inside last night, something Blair is still miffed over.
"Your soul is dreary," the familiar says as Maka walks.
"So?" She steps over a branch in her way, refusing to look at Blair. After breakfast, lethargy had settled over, which dulled her emotions and made it easy to semi-deny the truth, although it made doing anything difficult.
"Don't get smart with Blair." The cat's tail flicks the air, her sign that she's worried. "I thought you'd be excited to see scythe boy tomorrow. Or nervous."
"Maybe when tomorrow actually comes," she says. She has no energy to explain what happened. "Right now, I'm just tired."
The space ahead of them opens up suddenly, and the swamp silently stretches out with open arms to Maka.
She trips to a stop, the fog in her head clearing as she takes in the grassy patches of vivid green dotting the glasslike surface of the swamp. Her heart is loud in her ears as her gaze falls on the broken tree stump that marks the remnants of Giriko's house.
Maka's chest moves up and down as she stares at the swamp; it's ridiculous to think of a place as alive, but she can hear something beckoning her to come closer. Eyes flicking up and down the swamp's expanse, she only hesitates briefly before drawing to the edge of the swamp.
"What are you doing?" Blair's feet knead into her skin as the cat scrambles up.
"Nothing." Maka comes to a stop just as the water touches the tips of her shoes. Giriko's stump lies out directly in front of her. "I just wanted to see."
"Why?"
Tugging on the hem of one of her gloves, Maka ignores Blair and reaches into her bag, taking out the scythe cube and squeezing it twice.
Although Stein just finished modifying the scythe to be lighter and more durable, it feels heavy in her hands. She holds it loosely, continuing to stare at the swamp. If she's being honest with herself, she doesn't know why she is here either. The urge to visit Giriko's house, the place where she lost Soul, had risen up last night, when her eyes ached too much to cry anymore but sleep was distant, and the only thing she could be was alone in the dark.
From behind her, a voice says, "You have such a strange soul."
Water sloshes into Maka's shoes as she whirls around.
Crona stands a couple armspans away, hands at their sides. Unlike when Maka saw them in the darkness, their face is whole, although their hair is disheveled and their wings aren't billowing out as usual, draping over them like tattered curtains.
The hair on Blair's back stands up as the cat lets out a feral hiss, while the world crawls to a standstill for Maka. "You," she breathes.
"I don't understand it," they say, a hand creeping to clutch the side of their face as they shake their head. "I don't know how to deal with it."
Anger burns away her understanding for them. "You made me lose him," she says, a sob breaks on the last word.
Blair jumps from her shoulder with a yowl as Maka bolts forward, swinging the scythe down towards Crona's stomach, but their wings sweep in front of Crona as she strikes. The tip of the blade hits the black blood with a metallic cling, sending reverberations through the scythe.
The wings drop back to Crona's shoulders as Maka stumbles. "Oh, that's right," they say, their mouth the only thing left of their face. "Mother said to kill you."
They shoot towards Maka with one sweep of their wings, and she feels rather than sees Crona hit her. She flies back and crashes into the water, stars sweeping across her vision. Water forces itself into her throat as her arms and legs flail, feet kicking into the soft silt of the swamp.
Maka scrambles up, choking as she struggles to find her balance, feet sinking into the ground. Distantly, she can hear Blair calling from the water's edge, and she spies the scythe floating a few feet away.
Before she can lunge for it, a hand seizes the back of her neck and forces her under. Maka's head presses into the silt; she presses her mouth shut, though dirt mixed with water still make their way in her mouth. Her lungs are screaming for air, along with the rest of her body, and she struggles to free herself from Crona
Their grip is like iron, unyielding even when her hand finds a rock and jams it into theirs. Darkness bleeds in the corners of Maka's vision, while the rest is filled with memories of the reanimated corpse dragging her underneath the bog's surface. In desperation, she reaches out with her perception, pulling herself to the twisted mass that is Crona's soul and battering her resonance against it.
The effect is instantaneous: Crona lets go of her neck, and Maka drags her body from the bottom of the swamp, head breaking above the surface. She vomits water as she struggles to get away from Crona, lungs burning as she gasps frantically.
She only makes it a couple feet before she collapses, knees pushing into the swamp floor. The scythe is within reach, but her strength is gone; she fights the feebleness weighing down her arms and legs as she turns to face Crona.
The creature has become stock still, however; their face is back, arms wrapped around themselves. "What did you do?" they whisper.
Their voice is soft, like a scared child.
Maka isn't sure why she reaches out a hand; she tries to speak. "Crona-"
"NO!" Their wings lash into the air, but instead of attacking Maka, they shoot into the sky.
She watches as they become a speck in the blue of the sky, waiting until they turn invisible to look away, and waiting even longer for Crona to return before she allows herself to move away.
Soul watches the golden potion swirl in the flask as he tips the glass back and forth. Drink it, a voice that eerily resembles Medusa.
His hand tightens; he should have drank the potion as soon as he returned to Abeyance, but he didn't and the doubt snaked in. Now, he sits in the shadow of the rock outcropping in the desert with the potion in his hands.
There is a storm raging in his mind; he can't fix himself on a train of thought before he's moving to another. Meanwhile, what he said and did to Maka circles his thoughts like a vulture-he doesn't even know where to factor in his encounter with the Rift.
At the edge of the rock's shadow, Medusa's snake lounges on the sand, no longer slithering back and forth, evidently given up trying to reach him. A slightly murderous feeling rises up as Soul stares at the snake and remembers what the witch answered after he told her he didn't believe her story about Asura and what she claimed about Soul.
"You'll believe it soon enough."
He shakes his head violently, although her words continue to echo in his ears.
"I won't let it happen," Soul says aloud. He uncorks the flask and holds it to his lips, then pauses. It doesn't make sense that Medusa would give him a potion that keeps him from sleeping when that's when he brings the world closer to Abeyance.
But if he goes on the way he is, he'll eventually fall asleep again. Soul's fingers drum an anxious tapping rhythm against the flask as his gaze finds the widening crack in the Rift.
Closing his eyes, he tips his head back and brings the flask back to his lips.
A wild chorus of laughter stops him from tipping the potion into his mouth; fear clamps over Soul as he spies several figures streaking across the desert in the distance, headed for the rocks. Scrambling to his feet, he hurls himself into the inner circle of the outcropping, panic increases when he hears the witches approaching.
Whirling around, Soul spies a crevice running down the middle of the largest rock. He sprints for it, wedging himself in and flattening against the rock just as the voices of the witches become clear.
"I can't believe it!"
"Finally."
"Where's Medusa?"
"Here." Soul gets a glimpse of the witch as the other witches surround her, clambering for her attention.
"Have you really done it?" a witch with red hair asks breathlessly, voice rising above the din. "Have you captured a kishin?"
Medusa simply raises a hand, not speaking until all of the other witches have fallen silent. "I don't believe we are all here yet," she says.
There is an outbreak of grumbling, but none of the witches speak against her. They whisper to themselves, tossing impatient glances towards the outside of the rocks.
A pitiful keening announces the last witch's entrance. Soul doesn't dare to move his feet, but he cranes his head as much as possible. This witch is nearly bowed over with old age; her skin is lined with wrinkles and so thin that he can see the weblike veins running up her hands. He can't see her face, draped in darkness by the hood of a thick cloak..
She lowers the hood when she reaches Medusa, tufts of grey hair poking in all directions. Her face is as wrinkled as her hands, although it's the empty eye socket oozing a clear liquid that roots Soul's attention.
Her wails dry up, replaced by two words she utters over and over. "My eye," she cries. "My eye."
One of the witches detaches from the group as she places an arm around the old witch. "Don't worry about that, Mother Mabaa," she croons. "I'll make you a new eye on Earth."
Eventually, the old witch goes silent and looks up at Medusa, although her mouth continues to move wordlessly. Soul doesn't miss the look of hatred on her face.
Medusa, however, pays the witch no more attention and turns to face the witches.
"It has been so long since we've been all together, sisters," she says as she begins to circle the group like she did with Soul. "I wonder why you answered my call for a meeting now when so many of you laughed at my summons for the same reason last year."
Silently, Soul counts the witches, then again.
Twelve.
"We had no evidence of the kishin," pipes up a witch from the back of the group. "We could not lend you our demons or magic for something so unrealistic."
Medusa stops moving at the edge of Soul's vision, stare going cold.
"Of course, we were wrong," stammers the witch immediately. "Which is why we are here."
Medusa's stare holds for another moment, and then her mouth curves into a smile. "Of course." Her smile widens. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it myself," she says. "Which is why I called our meeting here, where none of us can use magic."
"No tricks, no attacks." She starts to walk again. "Just a gathering."
A witch with foxlike eyes that Soul recognizes comes forward and bows slightly to Medusa. "What do we need to do, sister?"
"Over the past few months, I have gotten into the kishin's confidence or close enough to it," she answers. "I've been giving him a potion to accelerate his transformation. Now he is nearly on the verge of becoming a fully realized kishin."
Instantly, Soul's stomach heaves, and he clamps a hand over his mouth.
"However, I've recently lost his trust, although I managed to give him the last of the acceleration potion, which I laced with a sleeping draught," Medusa continues. "He ran away, but I don't believe he will get far."
Her eyes rest directly on the crevice as she says this; he is sure she sees him until her gaze moves back to the coven. "Which is where I need you, sisters."
"Find the kishin and trap him in one of my shadows," says Medusa, her voice rising. "We'll wait until his transformation is complete."
Excitement breaks out amongst the witches, but the rest of her sentence rings out clearly.
"Then we will release the kishin across the Rift, and he will bring us home."
A knock on the door shortly after breakfast announces Kami's arrival. From the couch, Maka leaps to her feet, hampered slightly by her backpack.
Spirit laughs as he rises to answer the door. "Silver Canyon doesn't have feet, Maka."
Her face flushes, following him out of the living room. "I know." From within her backpack, she feels Blair's displeased meow at being jolted so suddenly, and coughs to mask the noise, reaching behind herself to give the backpack a sharp poke.
Kami greets Spirit with a small smile at the door, which Maka notices is not as forced as it was when she began visiting in April. "Hello."
"Hi." He gestures inside. "Would you like to come in? We still have some eggs left over from breakfast."
"Oh, no thank you, I already ate." Awkwardness crosses her mother's face, but her voice is sincere. "Plus, the trip to the canyon is over two hours."
"Of course," says Spirit quickly. "Another time then."
Kami's smile widens, becoming softer. "Yes, that'd be nice," she says before looking to Maka, eyebrows lifting slightly. "I haven't seen you put your hair in pigtails since you were a little girl."
It's a comment that should have sent the past's thorns digging into Maka's heart, and she can tell by the way her parents freeze that they realize it too, but she just gives a shrug. "I like other hairstyles better, I guess."
"They suit you well, but I still think I like the pigtails best," Spirit says while Kami nods in agreement, their relief palpable.
"I'll think about wearing them more often, then." She swats at Spirit's hand, trying to tug one of her pigtails, and ducks out of the door, impatience rising. "Can we get going?"
"That eager to leave your father, are you?" Spirit's laugh is light as he and Kami follow her out to the driveway, but something in it makes Maka's throat close. She'd claimed otherwise in front of Black Star and Tsubaki, but there is a very real chance that she may not be coming back from this trip.
"Not that much, I'm going to be back tomorrow, aren't I?" she says, moving back to enfold Spirit in a hug.
"That's right." Spirit returns her hug. "Don't forget to put on sunscreen."
She rolls her eyes in spite of the tears brimming in them. "I won't."
Spirit starts to pull away, then he pauses. "Is there something moving in your backpack?"
"No." Maka moves away quickly. "You must have jostled something in it."
He's frowning. "I could have swear there's something pushed against my hand."
"Well, that's impossible." She gives her backpack a slight jostle as she turns to Kami. Her eyes fall on the truck and small trailer attached to it sitting on the side of the street. "Did you buy that just for the trip?"
"Not just this trip," Kami says, defending herself. "Future trips, too."
They file down to the truck, where Spirit holds out a hand to Maka. "I can put your backpack in the trailer."
"No, I got it!" Maka shrinks away, walking backwards to the trailer.
She opens the door to the trailer, and sets the backpack down. Blair's eye glares at her from the small gap Maka left to give her air.
"I am never doing that again." The cat squirms out of the backpack before Maka can unzip it all the way. "I will give up fish before I go back in there."
"I'm sorry," she hisses. "I didn't know she was bringing a trailer."
The cat continues to glare. "You owe me fish for that."
"We'll go to the fish market in Moricio after all of this." Maka straightens. "But for now, get comfortable," she answers, closing the door before Blair can answer.
She rejoins Kami and Spirit. "All set."
Her mother has a confused expression on her face. "It sounded like you were talking to someone."
"I was making sure I had everything, I must have spoken out loud." She squeezes Spirit in a one-armed hug. "See you in the morning."
An odd feeling coils in Maka's stomach as she settles herself in the passenger seat, hands clammy as she buckles her seat belt. She's vaguely disappointed to see Spirit stayed behind at the driver's side talking to Kami instead of following her, though it recedes slightly when Kami turns and he looks at Maka, giving her a smile.
The sound of the driver's door closing brings her out of her thoughts. "I think we might be able to fit in a small hike before lunch," Kami says, brushing her hair back as she turns on the truck. "What do you think?"
She summons a cheerful tone from somewhere. "That sounds great."
With a nod, Kami puts the truck in gear while Maka lowers the window to give Spirit a wave as they pass by the driveway.
She watches him from the rearview mirror until the truck curves around a bend and her father disappears from view.
Soul counts all the way to a thousand before he eases out of the crevice. The flask hangs loosely in his hands as he staggers outside of the circle of rocks; Medusa's snake has disappeared, a small miracle. He glances at the potion as he leans against the rock wall, then his stomach heaves and he doubles over, gagging.
He'd known that Medusa was lacing the potion with something else, his instinct told him so every time he drank the potion, but he'd been so desperate to contain the monster inside of him that he ignored all of the signs.
Composure comes back to him slowly, but as soon as he can stand upright, he yanks the cork from the flask and dumps out the potion onto the sand, watching the golden liquid meld into the grey of the desert. His hands shake as he drops the flask and moves towards the forest, eyes on the fissure of the Rift.
Irony tastes bitter on Soul's tongue; for everything he's lost to come to Abeyance, and for everything he's gone through while he's been here, it's almost laughable that his only option is to go back to Earth.
His hands run through his hair, nails pinching into the scalp. The tiny shoots of pain clear away some of the haze in his mind, and Soul bites his lip as he focuses on the forest slowly growing into view. With the entire coven coming after him, he has very little chance of making it through the forest-he's gotten lost in there too many times to count, and it's hard to keep track of his distance from the Rift in the forest.
Soul runs his gaze across the forest line, searching until he sees the white of the cocoon grove tucked away in the distance. The souls sealed in the cocoons might be enough to mask his presence all the way to the Rift.
For another moment, Soul deliberates. Then, he begins to walk again, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. There's nothing but the quiet hush of the sand underneath his feet, something that puts him on edge rather than setting him at ease. Measuring the distance to the grove with his eyes, he estimates that he's no more than a mile out, which he can easily walk in a matter of minutes
"Going somewhere?" Soul raises his eyes to find Medusa's snake has returned, and that it is not alone.
The witch somewhat resembles Medusa, her multi-colored hair are the shape of a scorpion's pincers, twisting and turning on its own accord. Her mouth is bared in a cruel grin, and she takes a step forward, raising her hand towards Soul. "You belong to me."
Soul kicks out as hard as he can, sending a cloud of sand shooting up between them, and bolts, feet pounding across the sand as he heads for the forest. Behind him, the witch cackles as she follows him, although he doesn't dare look over his shoulder to see how close she is.
Underneath Soul, the sand becomes hard and more solid as the forest opens up. He plunges into the space between the trees, winding between branches and leaping over exposed tree roots. However, the witch does not let up, calling taunts after Soul as he runs. He ignores them, along with the exhaustion burning in his legs, fighting to move faster.
The witch's laughter bounces off the trees, making it seem like she is everywhere. "Make sure your shadow is really your own!"
A low hiss pulls Soul's attention from the forest in front of him; he gets a glimpse of Medusa's snake, then feels his foot hook on a tree root in the same instant. His momentum sends him flying forward, and a loud crack resounds in Soul's ears as his head slams into a rock.
Soul's vision doubles as he stumbles to his feet, and immediately staggers back into a tree, sliding to the ground. He manages to turn his head sideways, groaning when he sees two copies of the witch approaching.
They both crouch down, and he lashes out feebly when the witch places a finger on his nose, crooning, "Caught you."
There's no escape. Soul presses himself against the trunk, hand moving across the ground for a rock sharp enough to pierce his throat-he won't let himself be taken.
However, the witch pauses, head twisting as she rises. Soul's vision has cleared enough to see her expression turn confused. She frowns. "Mabaa?"
There's an explosion of noise, and the witch lets out a cry as she is knocked off her feet and into a tree. A hooded figure walks slowly into view; their fingers splay out as the witch struggles to rise, sending shadows directly into the witch's body.
The witch does not try to get up again.
Soul shrinks away and attempts to get to his feet as the figure turns towards him, but the pain in his head is too much to do more than push himself away from the tree.
The figure raises their hands, as if in surrender, then pushes the hood from their face. Recognition flashes through Soul, and he stares at the one-eyed witch in disbelief. "You?"
She presses a finger to her lips, miming people walking with her other hand, and his head whips around, sending a wave of dizziness rushing through him. Dropping his head into his hands, he fights the nausea coiling in his stomach. When it passes, he speaks, keeping his voice low. "Why did you do that?"
In reply, the witch points to the ground in front of her, where Medusa's snake thrashes against one of the shadows she released when she took down the other witch.
"You hate her." Soul's hands drop from his head, pressing into the ground.
The witch nods vigorously.
"We have one thing in common, at least." He glances back at the snake, then to the witch. "Is it okay for me to stand?"
Looking around herself for a moment, the witch nods again.
Gritting his teeth, Soul plants his hands firmly on the ground, and pushes himself to his feet. He sways dangerously, nearly losing his balance, but catches himself on the tree. His world spins in quick circles, and he shuts his eyes until the dizziness dissipates.
There's no way he can get to the Rift like this. A scream of frustration climbs into his throat-he was so close.
When he opens his eyes, the one-eyed witch is standing directly in front of him. He flinches, but the witch doesn't do anything except reach into her cloak to bring out a tiny vial filled with a dark red potion.
"No." He shakes his head, which brings back the dizziness. "I know what that will do."
The witch's whisper is gentle. "No." She mimes drinking the potion, and putting a cover over him. Then she points to herself, and makes an 'X' with her arms.
He frowns, trying to understand her. "The potion will kill you?"
She makes a face that Soul takes as a no, trying again, although this time, she puts a hand over her eyes instead of making an 'X'.
"It'll hide me?" He starts when the witch's face lights up and draws close to him, enough that he can smell her breath, stale and sour.
Quickly, the witch moves back; Soul eyes her warily. "Why are you helping me?"
Again, she points at Medusa's snake, but then she taps the skin next to her empty eye socket.
Realization dawns quickly. "She took your eye."
The hatred on the witch's face is strong enough to snap bones. She looks down, then offers the vial to Soul again as she glances back up, the question clear on her face.
He hesitates-the smartest thing for him to do would be to find that sharp rock, but he can't stop seeing Maka in his mind.
The potion is unusually warm as Soul takes the vial. He raises it to his face; up close, the liquid resembles congealed blood.
Swallowing hard, Soul uncaps the vial and gulps down the potion.
"Make sure that he makes it to the Rift," Medusa says to Cadme, Titula, and Rena when Mabaa hobbles into her hovel, which Medusa has taken over for the occasion. "If any of the other witches catch him, it will make things difficult."
The witches nod, filing out of the cave immediately, ignoring Mabaa as they pass her.
She doesn't seem to care, however, hand opening and closing greedily as she approaches Medusa.
"He took it?" Medusa pays no attention to the hand in her face.
Mabaa nods, continuing to open and close her hand.
"All of it?"
Another nod.
"Very well." From the belt around her waist, Medusa takes out Mabaa's eye, holding it just out of reach. "How long for the potion to take effect?"
The old witch holds up a finger, and Medusa drops the eye into her hand.
"One day," she breathes to herself.
Meanwhile, Mabaa cradles her eye for a moment, a smile cracking upon her face as she takes her eye and pushes it back into place.
Kami frowns at the burnt, gooey mess that is her marshmallow, shaking it from her stick. "Well, so much for that one."
"You have to rotate the stick as you cook the marshmallow," says Maka, cramming the marshmallow on her stick between two crackers and pulling it free. She holds the s'more in her hand, waiting for it to cool. "Otherwise you'll burn it every time."
"I knew I was forgetting something," her mother says as she plucks another marshmallow from the bag and stabs it with her stick. She holds it at the edge of their fire, instead of plunging the stick into the fire's center, like she did the first time.
"This is the most camping I've done in my life."
Maka frowns. "You never went camping when you were traveling?"
"I went on some guided tours of the French Alps, but I was on the back of a horse, and was in my hotel by sunset."
Tenatatively, she takes a nibble of her s'more, then takes a bigger bite. "That sounds like a lot of fun."
"It was," Kami answers; then a guilty look crosses her face. "I'm-"
"You don't have to feel bad for talking about what you did while you were gone," Maka interrupts, adjusting the blanket she sits on. She glances over at her mother. "I want to hear about what you did."
There's a brief silence before Kami speaks again. "Alright." The smile is clear in her voice.
After a moment, Maka says, "Now I know why it took us two hours to pitch the tents."
"The instructions also were not very clear."
Although Maka laughs, there is something forced in it as she peers up at the darkening sky, which she has looked at more times than she has ever looked at the sky in a day. She watched it for the entire length of the car ride, and nearly tripped over more rocks than she can count during the afternoon hike with Kami.
Sucking a breath, she rips her eyes from the sky, and tunes back, pinning a smile to her face when Kami sets her second and third marshmallows on fire.
It feels like years pass by in the time it takes for Kami to finally tire out, and take Maka's suggestion that they go to bed. She fights to hold onto her fraying patience as Kami insists on checking the stability of the tents again, in spite of Maka's assurances that they would have fallen over in the nine hours since they put them up. They finally go to their respective tents forty five minutes later, where Maka spends the next hour listening to her mother toss and turn.
When the rustling noises in Kami's tent go still, Maka's heart leaps, but she doesn't trust it, forcing herself to wait another ten minutes until her mother's snores become even and regular.
Holding her breath, Maka rises carefully from her sleeping bag. Kami chose to pitch their tents side by side, so any noise made in Maka's tent will not be muffled from her mother. She is grateful for thinking to keep the tent flap unzipped; she winces when the rigid fabric makes a small creaking sound as she shifts it aside and Kami stirs.
Heart pounding, she waits for Kami to snore again, clutching her bag to her chest and wedging herself through the gap, unwilling to push her luck. When she is outside, she rises, muscles aching for release, although she does not allow herself to stretch.
Every crunch Maka's shoes make as she backs away slowly is a gunshot in her ears. Her heart hammers; she's sure that Kami is going to leap out of the tent eventually, but the flap to her mother's tent remains closed.
Once she rounds the bend a few dozen feet from their camp, Maka presses a hand to her mouth, and lets an exhale of relief slip through her fingers. Quickly, she extracts the reaper outfit that she checked out two days ago from Miss Maud, the armory's keeper, with a forged note from Azusa.
The cold breeze winding through the canyon nips at Maka as she changes, but she ignores it, stuffing her regular clothes in her bag. She takes the scythe cube in her gloved hands as well, though she waits until she is further away to activate it.
Blair meets Maka at the spot they agreed upon while Kami struggled to assemble the tents on her own. "About time," the cat says when she spots Maka, approaching her with a swish of her tail. "I thought you changed your mind."
"That's not happening." She holds out her arms but the cat chooses to climb her leg, leaping up onto her shoulder with a well-practiced jump. "Where are we going?"
"I've scoped out a few places," the cat answers. "The first one is nearby."
While they walk, Maka looks the translucence of the Rift, as it cuts through the canyon's main artery. Blair stops her in one of the slowly curving bends of the canyon, hopping down from Maka's shoulder. "Here."
She's breathless as she watches the familiar pace up and down a short length of the Rift, creeping forward when Blair stops. For several moment, Maka watches Blair concentrate on the Rift, speaking when the cat's tail twitches. "Is that it?"
"Does it look like it?" says the cat peevishly. "Magic is not quiet."
Eventually, she turns back to Maka. "I'm not used to using my magic in such large amounts," Blair says as she allows Maka to pick her up. "I think the next spot will be more successful."
It is not, however, nor are the two places that follow after that.
"Are you sure that you can do this?" Maka asks when Blair's attempts at the fifth spot end the same way as the first four, working to keep the panic out of her voice. She's accounted for a lot of things on this trip, but Blair's magic not working wasn't one of them.
"Of course, I can." The cat's words are not as confident as they were in the beginning, but she puffs out her chest. "There's one more place, I'm sure I can open the Rift there."
She turns, and Maka follows, glancing up at the stars and sending a prayer to anyone who will listen.
The sixth spot Blair speaks of is in a narrow alley leading off of the main canyon; the Rift swings down the alley before it loops back abruptly to the main passage of the canyon. Maka eyes the way the walls narrow sharply, nearly coming together a few hundred feet in front of them. "Do we have to go much further?"
"No, it's right here." Blair jumps down from Maka's shoulder for the sixth time that night.
With bated breath, Maka watches as a heavy concentration comes over Blair's face. The air thickens as the cat whispers foreign words under her breath, and something invisible crackles loudly.
Abruptly, the noise vanishes, and the air returns to normal.
Maka's heart plummets through her stomach, and out of her body.
"I'm sorry," Blair says after a long, stretched out silence. "I can't do it."
Maka struggles to find her voice, to tell Blair it is okay, that she will figure out another way, but she can't. Tears begin to well in her eyes, and she brushes them away angrily, speaking finally. "It-"
The rest of her sentence is drowned out by a series of screeches cutting through the air.
"Poltergeists," she says, whirling around to face the mouth of the alley, throwing out her perception. There are at least seven in the horde, and too close for Maka and Blair to run.
"They must have been drawn to my magic," says Blair, taking a few steps back.
Moving to the middle of the path, Maka holds out the scythe defensively, "You have to get the Rift open," she says, flinching as the horde's madness sings to her. There's no way she can defeat seven poltergeists on her own while they're infected with madness.
"I can't!"
"Try!" Maka's hands tighten around the scythe, flooding the surrounding area with light. Her glasses back at camp so she has to squint.
For a second, the air is filled with the same crackling energy, but then it fades.
The horde is at the mouth of the alley, screeches promising to the horde to be upon them in seconds.
"Blair!"
The air thickens; Maka feels the rush of energy in her own bones before a giant crack resounds in the dark.
Jamming Maka's foot with her head, Blair pushes her forward. "Go!"
She whirls around and sprints for the hole ripped through the Rift's translucence, making it through just as the wails of a poltergeist scratch against her eardrums.
Maka is filled with a falling sensation, even though she is running forward. The light of her scythe illuminates the space around her as she breathes in the familiar, heavy darkness.
She is in the Rift.
A strange feeling comes over Soul as he approaches the Rift, as though his insides are on fire, but the flame is cold. He assumes it is a side effect of the one-eyed witch's potion, but it does not settle the unease in his chest.
He steps over a broken tree branch strewn across his path, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, but it appears that the one-eyed witch was true to her word. No other witch has found him since he drank the potion.
The worry locked around his heart loosens just a little bit, and frees his mind to focus on other things, his eyes drifting to rest on the Rift peeking through the spaces of the trees overhead. He's not sure what he'll do once he gets across, but he supposes that is a problem for future Soul to figure out.
Somewhere in the foliage to the right of Soul, he hears a branch snap. His head snaps to the right as he freezes and spots a pair of foxlike eyes staring at him.
A yell swells in his throat; he's about to run when he notices the eyes have not moved. Heart in his throat, he takes a closer look: the eyes appear to be staring through him, and not at him. Eventually, the witch's gaze shifts past Soul.
"He's not here, Rena," calls the witch as her eyes finally start to move, disappearing into the dark of the woods. There's the sound of more branches snapping as she heads in the opposite direction. "Let's search elsewhere."
Soul listens for the witch's footsteps to fade completely before starting to walk again. He moves quickly, not caring about any noise he makes, triumph turning him almost giddy.
Ahead of him, the Rift waits silently.
Maka pulls the scythe's blade free of the Rift monster, shaking its blood from the blade as best as she can. Its blood is not as black as Crona's, but it is oddly viscous, clinging to the blade. She gives up after a minute. "That's disgusting."
"Keep moving," hisses Blair from her shoulder, eyeing the monster lying on the ground. "What if it have friends?"
"I kill them as well." Maka holds the scythe out, lighting up the darkness better than the flashlight she packed away in her bag. It also seemed to deter some of the Rift monsters from coming close, although there were a few bold ones who saw it as a beacon for food instead.
"Perfect." Blair presses into her shoulder. "And if one of them plucks me away?"
She pats the cat on the head. "That's not going to happen."
They lapse into silence as a shriek pierces the dark; it doesn't sound like the cry of something who has spotted them-there is something human in the scream.
Abruptly, the scream cuts off. Disgust rising in her mouth, Maka quickens her step.
Her heart pounds in her chest the longer she and Blair go on without finding the other side of the Rift. She doesn't remember how long it took her and Soul to find the other side in the swamp, only that it seemed much shorter.
Pushing down her fear, she glances at Blair. "Can you still feel the rip you made?"
"It's still open," the cat says. "Although I don't know if the poltergeists are waiting for us."
"We'll deal with that when we're coming back," answers Maka. To her left, there is a ripple of movement, and she stops, waiting till it passes. "We're just lucky they didn't follow us in."
Blair lets out a snort. "Only fools would come in here willingly."
"I have bad news for you then." Maka holds back a wave of excitement when she spots the wall of darkness ahead of them, more solid than the rest of the Rift, letting her elation flow when she presses her hand against the wall.
"We made it," she breathes.
"Not yet." Blair drops down from her shoulder, padding along the wall of the Rift until she finds a spot that she apparently deems acceptable.
Maka looks out for Rift monsters as Blair's magic fills the darkness.
Finally, the cat speaks. "Done."
Spinning around, Maka sees a forest peeking out from a hole in the Rift just big enough for her and the scythe to fit through. She ignores Blair swatting at her foot, demanding to be lifted up, and fits the scythe through the hole first, pushing it through to Abeyance. It's a narrower fit than she thought, and the hole more like a tunnel than a hole. She has to let go of the weapon to be able to snatch Blair from the floor.
A cramped feeling pinches Maka as she wedges herself through the break in the Rift. She grits her teeth, moving forward at an agonizingly slow pace. Light tinted with grey filters through the tunnel as she reaches its opening. Blair wrests herself free from Maka's grasp and she lets the cat go, fingers wrapping around the edges of the tunnel as she pulls herself free.
She tips out of the opening awkwardly, crawling forward on her hands and knees before scrambling to her feet.
The giant spiderwebs and maze of cocoons is nowhere to be seen; instead, Abeyance stretches out in an endless forest in front of them, outlined by a small strip of space where no plants grow where she stands now. Maka scans the area, glancing behind her at the Rift, then studies the mottled purple leaves hanging motionlessly from the trees. She digs in her bag for the picture of Abeyance's map she printed out. It's completely silent as she searches-she has no idea whether it's a good or bad sign.
Finally pulling out the map, she scans the ground for Blair, finding her standing about ten feet away. "I'm not sure if we should search along the Rift or if we should start from inside of the forest," she says, glancing at the map. "What do you think?"
Blair doesn't answer, even when Maka calls her again.
Frowning, she looks over at the cat, lowering the map. "Blair?"
The cat still makes no answer; Maka follows her gaze to the trees, pushing out her perception.
A monster stands just outside of the forest, a curious look on its face as it scrutinizes Maka's scythe in its hand and vaguely resembling Bigfoot. Its eyes are a bloody red, and the points of its teeth peek out from its mouth.
Maka tenses, stock-still, as the monster finally looks away from the scythe and directly to her. A rumbling sound builds from its chest, breaking free in an ear-splitting roar as it hurls the scythe away.
She runs.
Earth comes into focus as Soul looks through the gap in the Rift. It appears as if it's only a few feet away, although he knows better.
His hands graze the mist unfurling from the Rift as he pauses. He never thought he would make it to the Rift, and now that it is yawning wide before him, uncertainty wells up. It's impossible to stay here, but now he knows it's inevitable that he'll become the monster he was transforming into before he left Earth.
There's a trembling in his hands Soul can't stop; he bunches his hands into fists as he takes a step towards the Rift, swallowing hard.
Somewhere to the left of Soul, a scream rings out, familiar and foreign all at once. He freezes as recognition sweeps through him.
Maka.
A trick, his mind instantly corrects.
Still, he doesn't move into the Rift, listening to the echoes of Maka's scream fade into silence, eyes searching along the forest.
Looking back at the Rift, Soul stays frozen for another moment.
Then, he turns and begins to run.
Maka dodges the monster's swipe, only to see the monster's other arm swinging towards her, catching her directly in the chest.
A groan escapes from her mouth as she stumbles back. The monster's hand nearly wraps around her throat before it recoils abruptly. Gasping for breath, she continues to backpedal as she sees Blair leap onto the back of the monster's neck, clawing at its face.
She tries to weave around the monster, aiming for the scythe laying on the ground behind them, but it lunges in front of Maka with a roar. Her lungs burn with a sharp ache as she barely avoids running into the monster, tripping over her feet.
Blair is thrown from the monster's face with a yowl, flying back into the forest.
Struggling to her feet, Maka's gaze finds the approaching monster, its scarlet eyes fixed on her as another growl rumbles from its chest. Legs shaking with exhaustion, she takes a breath, summoning up any energy she has left.
The monster freezes, inexplicably. A perplexed expression crosses its face as it looks down, chest heaving oddly as the tip of Maka's scythe bursts through. The monster's gaze goes back to Maka before it falls forward, sending up a huge cloud of dust.
Maka's thoughts are a jumbled mess as she squints through the dust for Blair before it dawns on her that the cat wouldn't have been able to even hold the scythe. I should run, she thinks, but she continues to peer through the settling dust, making out the outline of a figure, scythe still in their hands.
The dust clears, and the world grinds to a halt as she and the figure stare at each other.
Maka moves first; her body feels far away as she drifts forward. "Soul?"
Soul's gaze runs up to Maka as he lets go of the scythe. She's here, he thinks. He's unable to register anything else.
Hereherehere.
Her eyes don't leave him as she walks around the monster, moving like she's in a dream. He can feel the thrum of her soul-not an echo, like how it is in the darkness, but a living flame.
Maka stops when she's right in front of Soul, so close he can see the tiny freckles dotting her face. Her lips part, but she says nothing, gaze tracing over his face.
His voice has gone somewhere far away; he's rooted in place as Maka raises a hand and brings it to his face, cupping his cheek. She presses her hand against his skin gently, as if he might disappear.
Her words are a whisper; he watches the way her lips move. "I found you."
It's a struggle to form a response. "I think I found you."
A laugh bubbles from her mouth.
"How did you get here?" He isn't aware that his hand has lifted up to cover hers.
Her head nods to the side, and he follows where she gestures until he sees the hole in the Rift. "I walked."
His eyes go back to Maka, but a new voice interrupts.
"Yes, I'm still alive, thank you for asking!"
They both jump, pulling apart, as a cat streaked with dirt winds between them, throwing Maka a baleful look.
A jolt of recognition shoots through Soul. "You!"
"Me," says Blair grumpily as Maka picks her up and begins to pick the leaves out the cat's fur. She throws a look of disgust around herself. "I'm glad I got left behind when the witches left."
"It's very fortunate for all of us," replies Maka, setting her back on the ground and picking up her scythe. She turns and wipes the blood off the blade on the monster's body behind them; Soul catches a glimpse of other colors of blood, too, and wonders how many monsters she's taken down today. When Maka turns back around, she can't seem to make eye contact with Soul, mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally speaks.
"I know what you're going to say, that you don't want to come back." Her words come out in a rush. "But I don't think this is where you should be," she says. "Even if you're not with..." She trails off, hands tightening around the scythe before she shrugs, like she's out of words.
"You should be on Earth," she says simply.
"I'm going back." The words are out of his mouth before he can think twice.
Shock wipes the stubborn expression off of Maka's face; her mouth works for a moment, voice coming out slightly higher than normal. "You are?"
He nods, knowing he should have lied instead of telling her the truth.
Maka's eyes are wide, still disbelieving. "But why-"
Her question breaks off as her head swivels towards the forest. Blair stiffens as well, then clambers up Maka's leg and jumps onto her shoulder. "Time to go," the cat says, anxiously peering into the forest.
By the look on Maka's face and the nearby shrieks of laughter, Soul can guess what's coming. He grabs her hand, giving it a tug. "Let's go."
Maka still looks towards the trees as they move away from the forest, a disoriented expression on her face. "There's thousands of souls in them," she says in a dazed voice. "How can they hold so many?"
Soul pulls her hand more insistently; the Rift is only a couple dozen yards away. "Come on."
With another tug, Maka breaks into a run with Soul. They begin to sprint as the witches burst out of the forest.
Maka glances back as she and Soul skid to a stop in front of the hole in the Rift, feeling Blair leap from her shoulder and shoot inside.
The witches are nothing like she had imagined as they emerge from treeline, and would seem completely human if not for the countless souls writhing within them, screaming for release. The weight of so many souls pulls her perception apart, too much for her to shut out.
Soul's grip on her hand is the only thing that grounds her; she feels him push her forward. "Go!"
Her heart hammers in her chest as she shoves the scythe, then herself, into the Rift unceremoniously. She falls to the ground of the Rift clumsily, scrambling to her feet and reaching back through the tunnel for Soul. "Here!"
His hand laces around hers just as one of the witches reach the Rift, yanking Soul back.
"No!" Maka wraps her other hand around his wrist, pulling with everything she has. She can see Soul kicking out, but the witch's strength is greater than theirs.
She shrieks at Blair. "Do something!"
Maka doesn't see what Blair does, but a paralyzing tension tightens around her just before a loud crack rents the air. Light hurtles past her, flooding the tunnel, and Maka lets out a grunt as she falls flat on her back; Soul comes flying out of the tunnel in a rush, crushing her to the ground as he land hard on top of her.
The angry screeches of the witches scrape at Maka's ears, but she lets a laugh as she feels Soul stir. "Are you okay?" she asks.
"I feel like my leg was pulled out of my socket," he groans, raising his head to look at her. He seems to finally realize where he is, and abruptly rolls off Maka. "Sorry!"
"It's fine, you did almost die," she says, getting to her feet.
"Again," he adds, taking the hand Maka offers.
The smile on her face falters.
"Again," she agrees in a quiet voice after a beat.
She starts as something jumps on her shoulder before realizing it's Blair. "I'm not sure if you realize where we are, but it's not ideal," says the cat.
"Right." Soul picks up her scythe, handing it back to her.
She notices the wince on his face as she takes the scythe. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just trying to erase the feeling of that witch grabbing my foot," he says, moving to stand next to her. "It's unpleasant, to say the least."
"I'd imagine," she says, beginning to walk as Blair impatiently digs her nails into Maka's shoulder. "What that the first time you'd seen a witch up close?"
There's a slight pause. "Yes." Soul glances at her scythe. "Where'd you get that?"
"Stein made it." She runs her tongue over her lips, hesitating. "It's not as good as the other one, but it does this."
She squeezes the scythe, and it illuminates.
"You should have done that as soon as we got in," says Blair as Soul's eyes widen at the sight. "Or did you forget our trip over here?"
"I didn't, and it's lit now." She pokes the side of the cat's face with her finger. "Thank you for opening the Rift and taking me through."
"Wait, you made the hole?" Soul leans over to look at the cat, then at Maka. "You planned this?"
"Well, my soul kept closing the holes I found," Maka says defensively. "Using Blair's magic was the only solution."
"I'm assuming the DWMA didn't approve of this."
"You'd be right."
A concentrated look crosses Soul's face as he absorbs this information. "So if you could have, you would have come across on your own?"
She shrugs. "It wouldn't have been that hard."
"Not that hard?" His voice is incredulous. "Do you know how dangerous Abeyance is?"
"I do," Maka shoots back, heat entering her voice. "But what did you want me to do? Forget about you?"
Silence stretches out for a long time. "No," he says finally. "But you should have moved on."
Her heart twists. "I guess that point is moot now."
Soul doesn't answer, and she's grateful; she doesn't want to have this fight in the Rift.
No monsters make an appearance as they trek across the Rift, although Maka can feel the harsh murmurs of invisible creatures flowing around them. Beneath it, she thinks she can make out with her perception the struggling souls of those who had the misfortune of wandering into the Rift.
"The darkness is around here," Soul says suddenly, meeting Maka's eyes as she glances at him. "The place where we'd meet."
She frowns, curious in spite of herself. "How do you know that?"
"That light led me to it the other day," he says, gesturing around himself. "I pulled someone out of the Rift."
"You did?" Her eyes widen. "What happened?"
"He moved on."
"Really?" Maka's gaze flicks around her-she'd thought of it as separate from death, not as part of it.
Soul nods.
"I'll have to find a way to share that with Azusa and Marie once we get back," she says, more to herself. "They'll be interested to know that."
"We're close," Blair interjects, nose twitching. "I can feel it."
"I'm gla-" Soul breaks off.
Maka turns to see him bracing himself on his knees. Alarm rises as she moves to peer anxiously in his face. "What happened?"
"I don't feel right," he gasps, as she wraps an arm around the middle of his back and helps him rise, letting the scythe in her other hand drag on the ground. "Like I'm on fire."
"Do you think the witch could have cursed you?" she asks, shifting awkwardly to heft Soul's arm over her shoulders as Blair jumps down. "I saw her saying something while she was pulling you back."
"It was something else." Soul puts nearly all of his weight on Maka, making her stagger. She grits her teeth, forcing them to take a couple steps forward. The scythe throws her balance off, and almost trips them both.
Maka looks to Blair, who immediately begins to lead the way. "And that was?"
Soul only shakes his head, a haze over his eyes. There is a pallor to his face that wasn't there before, and his skin is ice cold.
Her muscles are screaming, but Maka pushes them into a lurching walk after Blair, using the scythe as a crutch. "You can tell me when we get to Earth, then." She gives him a sharp jolt when he doesn't answer, panic squeezing around her heart. "Can you hear me?"
Soul's head lolls against her neck; he moves it up and down slightly, and she bites back a sigh of relief. "Good."
They make it a few hundred more feet, panic continuing to prickle underneath Maka's skin. Every few steps, she tells him, "We're almost there," but Soul's nods are becoming weaker, his skin completely frigid that it numbed the part of her neck that his face rests against.
The shrill cry of a Rift monster sounds as the light from the hole in the Rift comes into view, rapidly drawing closer.
"Blair," Maka groans.
"My magic is gone." The cat circles around her feet, eyes darting back and forth. "I can't keep the hole open, and protect us."
"It's okay." Tears prick in the corners of Maka's eyes; she tries to force herself to move faster, but Soul has become all but a dead weight. The hole in the Rift is less than thirty feet away-she wills away the screeches of the Rift monster, but they only increase in volume. "Please."
Maka forces them through the Rift just as a pair of claws scrape against her neck. Distantly, she registers blood dripping down her skin; she collapses with Soul on the ground, rolling onto her back.
Above her head, the stars wink at Maka.
"Thank you," she manages as darkness floods her vision.
Soul wakes up to find the night sky staring down at him, stars dotting across the sky. He tries to move, but his entire body throbs with an ache he's never felt before, so he stays on the ground and tries to figure out where he is.
His memories are blurry-he remembers entering the Rift with Maka and Blair, but he doesn't remember coming out of it. He gazes at the sky until he realizes the truth is staring him right in the face.
I'm on Earth. Soul tries moving again with only slightly more success, rolling his head to the side and spying Maka lying on the ground next to him.
Blair's face pops into his vision. "You're awake!"
"I wish I wasn't." His voice comes out croaky, like he hasn't used it in years. Everything about him feels so heavy.
"You haven't figured it out yet?" He realizes he spoke his last thought out loud as Blair speaks. She tilts her head to the side. "I would have thought it'd be obvious."
"What's obvious?" Soul asks as he takes a deep breath, and feels a sharp pain in his lungs.
He freezes, staring blankly at the sky for what feels like an eternity. Then, he closes his eyes and listens hard.
Slowly, Soul inhales and holds his breath, feeling the rush of his heartbeat fill his ears for the first time in over ninety years.