Cold rain pattered down atop Dipper's shoulders and arms. His bandages around his hands were becoming soaked, but it was something he no longer cared about. His anger had brought him here, to the face of this faceless entity of mystery. Before this creature, Dipper could get real answers. With or without anyone backing him up.
Looking into the darkness of the hood, which Dipper knew withheld a silvery mask, Dipper growled and said, "I'm not here for your stupid stone."
"Good call," the Guardsman nodded, and lowered the hood. Dipper could see the mask, soullessly peering out at him.
"I'm here for you," Dipper glared at the two slits for eyes.
"Oh. Hm," the Guardsman slowly nodded, "That's pretty bold. And you're taking me... where?"
"Nowhere. I'm here for your answers," Dipper clenched his fists as the first of the rain graced his burnt skin, sending waves of stinging, searing heat up his arms.
"Oh, I get it," the Guardsman nodded while scratching a bit under his mask, presumably at his chin, "You're going to try threatening me to answer questions you have. Well, I gotta say – brave. But not very nice."
Dipper felt his teeth grind together. Was this guy amused, right now of all times? He was taunting Dipper with that voice. It sounded so unnatural; the deep voice acting so coy and facetious. It made Dipper want to grab him, throw him to the ground. Instead, he took a step closer. "I'm not afraid to fight for what I want."
The Guardsman snorted. "You're almost intimidating. Almost," he said to Dipper while leaning forward slightly, still quite taller than him. "Why don't you just start asking away, instead of promoting lots of violence, most of which you can't handle?"
"I can ha-" Dipper cut himself short and spun away. This Guardsman, despite his possibly worldly-important position, had the intolerable tendency to tease and mock others. Mabel might have thought that funny when it was directed at Omir Steindorf, but now it was aimed for him. There wasn't a chance he was amused, not even a little. Dipper furiously watched the man as he turned back. Dipper whipped back and spat again, "God, you must think you're just the greatest thing there is, huh? Liquid gold for blood?"
The Guardsman watched and spoke up quickly once Dipper had done. "On the contrary."
Dipper paused. "You think you're less than everyone else?"
"It's not about what I think," the Guardsman said.
Dipper waited for the man to continue for a few moments. Only the pouring rain, and now occasional clap of thunder called to him. This man was a walking contradiction. Rude and mocking to Dipper, but claimed to be less than 'everyone' without explaining why. Was this guy insane? The circumstances only drew Dipper closer to true fury.
Dipper demanded of him, "Why don't you just... tell the truth about what is going on?!"
"Let me answer your question with another," The guardsman said.
"Oh, come on!" Dipper groaned.
"Have you considered that you don't know these answers for a reason?"
Ignoring the pain in his hands, Dipper clawed at his face, pulling on his skin with pent up frustration. "Fine – how about this one for you?!" he shouted, "I want to know that 'reason'! Assuming there is one!"
"There is," the Guardsman said.
"Well? What is the reason?" Dipper demanded. The Guardsman paused, watching Dipper pant and breath slower. After what could have been fifteen seconds of nothing, Dipper leaned closer, awaiting a response. The Guardsman snorted.
"Because it's a secret," he said, constraining what Dipper knew to be laughter.
That was enough. Dipper roared, "How is this a joke to you!?"
"It isn't," The Guardsman quickly said, turning halfway to indicate the four boulders around the stone, "That's anything but a joke. But this?" the Guardsman pointed to Dipper, and then himself, "Oh, that's a joke."
"Well, I'm not laughing!" Dipper stated harshly. "You talked to Omir Steindorf like you two had been aware of each other's plans for years!" the Guardsman shrugged. "You did!" Dipper snapped, "And all this time you could have done something to stop it?!" While there was a pause and the reaction was slower, the Guardsman did indeed shrug. "And that means Yuki and I could have been-"
"Don't throw that onto me," The Guardsman retorted. Dipper paused, heat similar to that of his wounds creeping into his face, behind his eyes, into his brain. The Guardsman told him, his town lower, softer, "You chose, as I believe, to attack Graupner, the new 'warlock'. You won and pressed your advantage – threatening his life."
"He had done it before!" Dipper shouted back.
The Guardsman's response? He wiggled a finger in the air, scolding Dipper.
"So, you lowered yourself to his level?" he asked.
Dipper, without thinking a second, reached down, lifted the closest rock up, and hurled it at the Guardsman. The man made no movement, no dodge, no evasion. Standing perfectly still, the cloaked, masked figure stared at Dipper as the rock struck his shoulder with a loud, dense, meaty thud. The rock fell away, falling into the grass as the cloaked figure made no indication to being stressed or, in any way, changed.
Booming footsteps thundered behind the Guardsman. The four golems raced out, growling as they stared at the two. They roared, "Defend the master! Defend the-"
A hand shot up from the Guardsman as fast a lightning. He held his palm to the four golems, holding them still. The four slid to a stop, stunned as they watched their master and the boy, who had readied a fighting pose against the coming attack.
"Thank you, guys. I have this under control," the Guardsman said calmly.
The Rock golem indicated Dipper, "But, but the child–"
"You are dismissed. Back to your posts," the Guardsman said, never once turning to his golem followers. The golems clearly had hesitation to this order, as they glared at Dipper, and then to the still figure. A strained moment passed, and the four slowly turned away, slumping back to the shadows they perched by. As they left, the Guardsman reached down and lifted the rock that had offended him, holding it in his palm, outstretched. Before Dipper, he tossed it to his feet with a gentle under handed throw. "You want to try that again?" he asked.
Dipper did at least three double takes. "W-W-What!?"
The Guardsman snorted. "You're luck I don't charge by the syllable. Otherwise I'd be rich off you," he chuckled.
"You don't make any sense!" Dipper shouted, his voice going hoarse from the constant shouting. "And I know insane monsters! I've battled demons before, okay!?" Dipper announced. "You're just being a huge jerk to people – pretending to be serious all the time, when actually you take nothing seriously!"
"Or is it the opposite?" the Guardsman asked.
"Shut up!" Dipper yelled. "I'm sick of you, your attitude, and your stupid riddles!"
"Dipper," the Guardsman shook his head, taking a step closer again, and actually passing the furious teen, "You're not thinking about this."
"How am I not thinking about this?" Dipper begged, so driven for straight answers that desperation began to settle in.
"Your actions don't strike me... hehe, strike me," the Guardsman shook his head as he chortled for a moment, but continued when Dipper's nostrils threatened to breath fire, "As the kind that someone with a good head on their shoulders would do. You're not in your own mind, Dipper," the Guardsman said with finality, "Get a hold of yourself."
"No!" Dipper roared, "Not until I get answers! Do you see what I've lost!?" he shouted, holding out the soaked bandages, "What other's have lost!? I'll never seen Yuki the way he was again in my life! Pacifica is broken over Yuki! I can never use my hands again in my life because-" Dipper closed his eyes and spun kicking jewels and grass from the muddy earth into the air. "I'm sick and tired of being led on like this! I want answers!"
The temperature dropped. Dipper stood, rooted to the spot as the darkness of the shadows seemed to swirl and grow, eclipsing the forest that enshrouded the glade. Dipper rooted himself to the spot, now watching as the shadows faded again, and began to flow towards the Guardsman, giving him a cape of black tendrils. Billowing, smoky, shapeless essence fell from his shoulders, and Dipper finally felt a twinge of fear.
The forces of darkness, at control of the creature's fingertips, made no change in the posture of the tall figure. As he had before, the Guardsman stared at Dipper, and spoke. "If you want answers, you're going to need to try harder than that."
"Then..." Dipper paused, staring at the darkness that swirled around the back of the cloaked man. "I'll take that challenge."
The man nodded. Dipper felt an attack coming long before he saw it. Instincts trained into him by Arline flared as a warning to his life. Dipper leapt back as something struck the ground. As he settled back to a trained posture, Dipper blinked. The attack had not been to where he had been, but three feet in front of that. Stuck into the ground was a long spear of darkness; a simple, elongated shape of void.
"You'll want help," the creature told Dipper, "Take it."
"I'm taking anything you give me," Dipper growled, readying himself as best he could. The Guardsman shook his head again and sighed.
"If you think so," he said, and then looked back to Dipper, "Because I'm sure that judgment of yours really helped back in the tunnels with-"
Dipper rushed forward. Blind rage drove him to attack, willing to do nearly anything to shut this horrible, offensive, rude monster up once and for all. Dipper pulled back and spun, twisting his body so effortlessly and easily. The kick would have knocked Mabel off her feet and Arline would have had to stumble-
The Guardsman stepped aside like it was nothing.
Dipper had no time to recover. A black-gloved hand bore across Dipper's face in a powerful back-handed slap. Dipper stumbled and turned about, feeling his head spin. He surely felt a force to be reckoned when a slap brought stars to his eyes and made his head spin. The image of the Guardsman stood before him, his hand lowering to his side.
With his cheek burning hot, Dipper finally stood up fully and gulped. This was the thing he had chosen to fight. This creature of shadow itself; older than maybe even the nations of the world. Was he an elemental as well? Had Dipper missed the possibility that the Guardsman wasn't even a creature, as much as a master elemental? Controlling the other four?
Then the Guardsman lowered a hand and bent his fingers back and forth. He beckoned Dipper to try again. "You can do better," the Guardsman said.
Fury and fear made an interesting mix. Dipper, with an only a moment to consider his next tactic, gave into the rage and rushed forward.
He would find his answers. He would fight for those answers.
No matter how comfortable the bed spread and mattress could be, Mabel could not find an acceptable position to rest herself.
She was in her room now, sitting against her pillows in her bed. A quiet pig sat next to her bed as well, occasionally sniffing and snorting in his usual demeanor. Mabel however was not herself. Light no longer reflected from her eyes as she happily gazed around. Her head was lowered and poured into a small worn book before her. As Dipper had his books from their now departed Grand Uncle Ford, Mabel had her summer journals.
Somber and tired, Mabel stared into the old summer memories book. It was a purchase made just around the time she and Dipper first came to Gravity Falls, three years ago. Bright pastels of pink, blue, and more pink bounded into the once excitable woman's mulled over eyes. At first the book was mundane and silly, as she knew herself to be. The time she and Dipper were sent to county jail for a night with Grunkle Stan for making fraud money had a ticket stub she stole from Stan after he wiggled his way out of paying the fine. There were pictures of the outfits Mabel proudly showed on Dipper, who had begrudgingly agreed to be model for. The first real mystery the two of them shared together, the case of Wax Stan's missing head, and the various clues that Mabel had taken a quick polaroid of.
Over time, as Mabel flipped pages, the things became more exiting and crazier. Going to the future, and Mabel showing off a self-levitating Umbrella she had stolen, which had been eaten by Gompers the Goat later on. Being chased by dinosaurs in the woods shortly after fighting pterodactyls for Waddle's safety. Going through the forest with Grenda and Candy shortly after sending a troop of clone musicians into the woods. Once these things seemed so grand and crazy. Yet now, all these memories reminded Mabel of simpler times.
Another page flip had Mabel purse her lips.
She saw a picture of the family. Of her, Dipper, Grunkle Stan... and Grunkle Ford.
They had taken a short picture after dealing with a vampire incursion. The Vampires, furious that the gravity spike had ruined much of their better hiding spots, fled into town and sought revenge. With Grunkle Ford at their side, they had beaten back the vampires and sent them into the woods, and gave them various caves to hide in. Mabel grinned at how excited Dipper had been to see the author of the journals in action, beating back the undead with his recovered technology from other universes.
Then she turned the page and saw a small crayon picture she had drawn, with the intent to send to her mother and father. The two Grand-Uncles held hands while drawn to be upset with their position, and Mabel's happy description of what they were like. She turned the page quickly, no longer wanting to see the picture.
It brought back too much pain.
She closed the book slowly and heaved a long, shaky sigh. It was one of two, and both now reminded her only of failures and broken memories. Her eyes turned to the second, uncompleted summer journal. It was just barely out of reach by the end of the bed. Her eyes focused on it, and then she realized someone was poking their head half way through the door.
"Soos?" Mabel asked.
"Hey," Soos quietly said, nervously tapping his fingers along the edge of the door, "Uh... I was looking for Dipper, but I guess I ran into you, huh?"
"Oh. He's around," Mabel shrugged.
"Right," he said, and lowered his hands, feeling something in his pocket. "Well, I'll just leave you be," he said, and lowered his head back.
Mabel's heart lunged for the chance to speak to someone she knew she could trust. "Soos!" she called back to the door. Once again the head of the Handyman popped back into view. "You want to come in and just chill like homies?" she asked, forcing a smile to her lips.
"Aw, sure dawg," Soos nodded and stepped in, walking over to Dipper's bed and sitting down. As he did, Mabel realized that his hat was wet, along with his shoulders and much of his clothes.
"Why are you wet?" she asked, "Were you out in the rain?"
"Yeah, had to run home to get something," he gloomily said, "mister pines sent me and your friends' home, but I had to come back and try something."
"Huh?" Mabel asked, moving to sit off the edge of her bed. Soos reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small pill. Her mind clicked quickly, and Mabel recognized it. "The cure-all!"
"Yeah," Soos started, "I thought, you know, it'd be a good time to use on Yuki. So, I came back, and... Pacifica reminded me he can't swallow..." Soos held the pill in his hands, looking at it, "I was like, this close," he held up his other hand, making a distance between his thumb and index finger, "To just, you know, tossing it in his throat and shaking him around until it fell in his stomach, but then Arline showed up. She reminded me that the pill doesn't work on curses."
Mabel frowned and felt her gaze drop. Soos had the moment of clarity to try something like that was noble. It was awful though that something like surrendering a perfect cure-all to save a friend still wouldn't work. What options did they have? She finally glanced back up to Soos, and saw him eyeing the books.
"Been reading?" he asked her, his own forced smile in place. Mabel shrugged. It was more of a shudder; her body twitching in place as she fought to decide how much she could really call it 'reading' instead of 'lamenting'. Soos seemed to get it. "Yeah. Kinda one of those days, right?"
"Yeah," Mabel nodded, "this stupid rain's got everyone down."
Soos's smiled lifted slightly. "Hah. It could use a brightening up, you know?"
Mabel did know. She grinned and bobbed her head over. "Sit here," she suggested. Soos lifted and did as asked, plopping down next to Mabel. She reached over to the newer book and lifted it up. "You remember my old book, right?" she asked, pointing to the pink and blue bindings.
"Ah, a Gravity Falls Best-Seller," Soos said.
Mabel grinned. "Yeah. That was pretty cool, wasn't it?" she said as she flipped it open yet again. The first of many pages fell out, and with a mere brush of her thumb, they spread and fell aside, showing her many illustrations and self-taken pictures. "I thought it was going to be so full of romances and summer flings that I ended up forgetting how cool it actually turned out," she told Soos as the final pages fell to her left.
"Oh, heck of a summer," Soos nodded and whistled, "adventure-"
"Romance," Mabel added quickly, "friendship-"
"Mystery," Soos interjected, "heroism-"
"And other more, uh, sad... stuff," Mabel trailed away as the final pages, still clean of her handiwork, laid before her as stark reminder to what had happened.
Soos looked up to her, his own expression darkening. "Hey, we couldn't have known dude."
"Stanford seemed so normal," Mabel shook her head slowly, "He just... it seemed like he wanted to help."
"Well, you try being kept in a universe were Bill the jerk Cipher is hunting you down for, gosh, thirty years, and still be sane and under your own influence," Soos said quietly. "I don't really blame him, honestly."
"Me neither," Mabel sighed. She gently laid the first book aside, and then opened the second, "And here I thought, you know, earlier this summer, we could finally make one with a happy ending. I mean, just look at all these bedazzled pictures!" she demanded, and flipped through them. The first of many flipped out, and she beamed. "See, look," she pointed.
The image was Mabel's first real attempt at 'advertising'. She had taken a picture of Stan in front of the newly opened Mystery Manor, and then did her absolute best to decorate to a high standard. However, as with all things involving Mabel, she inevitably ended up going a little harder on the sparkles and stickers than she had originally planned. She had also drawn a picture of a cartoony-happy big-foot waving at the camera from behind the shack.
"Another clear masterpiece," Soos chuckled.
"Stan thought it was goofy, but it clearly belonged here," Mabel nodded briskly. She turned the page, showing a cut-out article of the talent show. "Ohh! Look!" Mabel said, leaning in to the page, "It's us!" she said.
The picture in question was a snapped image of the wreckage after the talent show. Toby Determined, in his desperation to get some reliable source of news from that disaster, had snapped a picture of the crew before they all retreated to the Mystery Manor. Dipper and Mabel were telling Stan about their run in with Arline, and in mid-snap of the picture, Stan had let out a horrible grimace; now frozen in all time as a gaping, wrinkled face.
"I'm there too!" Soos pointed. In the background of the picture, Soos held on for his life atop his grand and elaborate clockwork horse.
"Yeah! What ever happened to that pony?" Mabel asked.
"I think it just ran out of time," Soos shrugged.
Mabel blinked, uncertain of what he had implied, and turned the page. Mabel snorted and shook her head. "That was a horrible shaving week," she muttered. Before her was her own gleaming smile as she took a picture, showing her new arm-pits, and how much she would have to shave.
"Oh man, if you think that's bad," Soos said, and started to lift his shirt.
"No, you doofus," Mabel chuckled and pulled his shirt down, "That was after I was a werewolf.
"Oh! Man, you even out-hairy'd your uncle! And that's saying something!" Soos commended her with a significant look.
Mabel turned the page again, her mouth open and ready to commentate. Instead she froze, looking at what was before her. Soos too opened his mouth and froze.
It was the last of many pages that had been doodled in and had a picture glued to the surface. The picture in question was Mabel's most recent, taken by Omir Steindorf right before he, Zander, Dipper, and Mabel had all gone hunting for Graupner. The most recent picture of Yuki, standing nearby Soos and Dipper, looking uncertain as how to hold himself. Mabel stared at the picture, and specifically, at Yuki.
"I miss him too," Soos suddenly blurted out.
"Yeah," Mabel nodded, and released a long, shuddering breath. She wanted to close the page, have the frozen memory leave her be. It brought her pain and a horrible, clawing nostalgia that ate at her very soul. Then her eyes lingered on Arline, leaning by a tree. Mabel clenched her teeth and then with a loud snap, closed the book. "Such a liar," she grumbled as she tossed the book to the side.
"Who?" Soos asked, eyeing Mabel worriedly.
"It doesn't matter," Mabel said.
Why wouldn't she tell Soos? She reflected on herself; this wasn't like her. She always spoke her mind- very rarely did she really desire to withhold such clenching feelings and do nothing for it. But this one- the deep, bitter, bubbling anger that roiled in her- she wanted to keep that under taps. Soos seemed to notice. Mabel internally punished herself for staring at the wall with such a heated glare for too long.
"She's still your friend, right?" Soos asked. "Arline, right?"
"I don't know," Mabel grumbled. "She messed up really badly. This whole time she acted like she didn't care about Steindorf- like he was just another person to talk to or whatever. But then she just... turned right around and acted like he was more important than anything else. We could have not had any of this happen," Mabel lied back down, slapping her back against the sheets. "Maybe even Yuki would be okay."
Soos nodded. He seemed, as anyone would, uncertain to what to say. Mabel's feelings were a mixture of pain and loss, from a physically exhausted and worn person who had her feelings betrayed. Maybe, as Mabel watched him fidget, he didn't want hurting her further, or infuriating her. Mabel sighed after a moment of watching him squirm from the corner of her eye.
"Soos, it's okay," she looked to him, "I'm not going to bite. What do you think?"
"Well, to be honest," Soos started, "it's not about you and Arline."
"Huh?" Mabel looked directly at him.
"Before I left, Mister Pines spoke to me. He said-" Soos turned away, holding a hand to his eyes as he sniffled, "-He said that he was going... going to close the mystery manor down."
Mabel shot up like her body had been touched by a live wire. Her heart raced. She felt it beat in her ears at pace like she had felt when watching the fire pass Arline and her. It was horrible, that rhythmic thrumming, as it deafened her.
"What!?" she demanded.
"I- I don't know what to say," Soos told her as he struggled against her gaze.
"He didn't say that–" Mabel ended her thought, and leapt off the bed. She made for the door with deliberation as Waddles rushed out of the way, squealing.
"W-wait, Mabel!" Soos rushed after her, but lagged as she darted out of the room and down the stairs. Rounding into the main hallway, she peered into each of the rooms, and finally found the giftshop occupied by Stan.
"Stanley Pines!" Mabel roared as she stomped into the room.
Stan had been lowering the 'OPEN' sign on the front window when he flinched and dropped it. He spun instantly with a loud cry, and spotted Mabel. "Wooh!" he shouted, "Thank goodness it's you. Seeing my mother again isn't what I need now."
"What does Soos mean when you told him that you're closing the Manor!?" she demanded, marching right up to him. Stan did a double take, and then looked her to an approaching, timid, and clearly uncomfortable Soos.
"You told her?!" Stan demanded of Soos.
"Sorry, Mister Pines," Soos said, sounding horribly torn over his own choice of words, "But I – she needed – I just–"
"Why?!" Mabel repeated. "Why are you closing?"
Stan faced the wrath of his grandniece head on. Hands on his hips, he lowered his gaze only slightly and stared at her. "Because I'm tired of living here and working in this place!" he shouted. "Look what this business has gotten me!" he pointed around, his voice cracking, "Sure, maybe a few bucks, but look at what this place makes me lose!" he shouted, and pointed to the hallway, towards the still closed door to Yuki's room.
Mabel choked on her words. Stan's eyes shimmered with emotion. How she could stay angry at that face was beyond her. Mabel wasn't even sure it was anger that she felt. She shook her head. "You can't just give in though! If you do, you'll just end up throwing this all away for nothing!"
"For nothing!?" Stan shouted back, a crooked smile on his lips, "Mabel, I've lost enough to realize what I already have, and..." he paused, steadying his breath, "What more it could cost me."
"What else is there?" Mabel asked, her voice refusing to lower.
Stan looked nowhere else but her. "You guys."
Though her body and mind demanded a retort, her soul could afford nothing. What could be said to that? Especially with the way he looked: he was down and folding his last hand of cards. Stan Pines had nothing left to hide and bluff behind. Suddenly Mabel felt disgusted; like she had just spit upon him with her meanest shot. She could only stand there, shaking her head side to side.
"Look... we had good times, okay?" Stan said, his arms slumping, "But things change. I need to call your parents in the morning and tell them I'm sending you two home, okay?" he said. "I'm... I'm leaving the Mystery Manor, and it's closing down for good."
She had plenty of time to say something as he walked around her. She had more than enough space to keep up with him as he walked form the room. Her brain was a buzz of sound and devoid of cohesion. Finally, as his footsteps made the threshold of the edge of the room, she turned.
"But, Grunkle Stan," she tried, her words shaking.
The elderly man turned, his own eyes reflecting a broken soul. "I'm sorry Mabel. I can't take any more loss like this. Not again."
And he left her and Soos to the gift shop.
Instinct ran over Mabel's mind with the force to pummel her into the dirt. Mabel spun away and lunged out the door, having it slam shut behind her. She cried as she ran off the porch and felt the drops of water splash her face. Rage burned in her heart as sorry drowned her mind. She was lost in her own heart and feelings, and made for the first tree she spotted- large pine tree down the road.
Rushing ahead and splashing mud and water into the air, she eventually ran into the tree with a dull thud. Her shoulder ached, but what was it compared to the cognizant pain she languished. Using the tree as purchase, she spun and laid against the soaked bark, slowly lowering herself to a seat.
Even in the mud, she felt the heat in her heart and the weight in her head. Nothing seemed level and controlled anymore. What great flow in her life she once maintained she had lost. Instead, she had the pounding in her ears, the pestering patter against her skin, the driving ache in her head, and the pulling cold of the air.
Her ears picked something nearby up though. Loud enough to be heard over the rain, Mabel blinked and looked around. It was dulled and muffled, but she knew what she heard...
Rock music.
She turned to her left, saw nothing. Turned to her right, saw only the signs of the road leading towards the main highway. A particularly heavy droplet of water struck her head, and she flinched. It was cold. That flinch, as it was, had her look up. She gasped.
There was a woman in the trees above her, sitting in the rain with earbuds on and her phone in her pocket, bobbing to music. Soaked red hair fell along her shoulders.
"Wendy!" Mabel called with a loud gasp. The wraith-cursed woman did not respond. Mabel noticed her eyes were closed. So, with a smirk, Mabel reached over and knocked loudly on the side of the tree.
Wendy jolted and looked down. "Oh!" she ripped the earbuds from her, and Mabel could hear the music blaring down to her. "Mabel! Hey."
"Hey," Mabel called back up, a simple wave of her hand the most greeting she could afford.
"Mabel, what are you doing out here?" Wendy asked, pushing her earbuds away. "It's freezing out here."
"Why are you out here?" Mabel asked.
Wendy blinked and leaned back against the tree, looking away into the forest. "Nothing."
"You sure?" Mabel asked, propping a corner of her mouth to grin just slightly. "Sounded like you were listening to something."
"Heh. You got me," Wendy glanced to Mabel. Nothing more came from Wendy as she stared away. Mabel finally got the idea to turn and stare also in that direction. She saw the Mystery Manor, its faint glow illuminating the space of the forest it occupied. When Mabel looked up, Wendy had turned her head skyward. Wendy told Mabel, "Stan told me something pretty heavy earlier."
"The same thing he told Soos?" Mabel asked. Wendy nodded, still looking to the sky. "So stupid," Mabel grunted and flopped against the tree yet again. "I mean, it's not like... he's getting anything else out of closing the place down, is he?" she asked. Wendy said nothing, and Mabel continued. "I mean, sure, it's unsafe sometimes, but when is it ever safe for us? Huh? Never!" Mabel declared. "He's just scared! And stupid! And... UGH!" Mabel stomped onto the ground and fell silent, with exception to her pained heaving.
Wendy spoke up after a break from Mabel's panting as rain splashed around them. "I was just thinking about what I'm going to do," Wendy said quietly.
Mabel leaned back and looked up, peering past the occasional falling raindrop. "What do you mean?"
"If Stan closes the shop," Wendy mentioned, looking down and staring at the shack, "I'll have nowhere to go. At least, not permanently. Everyone in town now thinks I'm a ghost, but this... this was my only real place to go. I'm just wondering... where else would I go?" Wendy mused aloud, turning her legs out and dangling them down slightly.
Mabel felt her lips tighten. Wendy's usual strong voice was riddled with doubt and fear. As Mabel, she was connected to this place now. Through circumstance and tragedy, Wendy had come to rely on Stan and Soos as brethren; her new crazy family to deal with on a regular basis. At that was, as Wendy had explained to Dipper and Mabel, only during the Summer. All the rest of the year, Wendy had... nowhere to go.
If she struggled only with three months of a stationary home, what would happen without even that security.
Mabel shrugged, and looked up. "We'll figure it out," she said. Wendy snorted and shook her head. Mabel insisted, "We will!"
"You're like your brother," Wendy smiled and looked down, "I'm not sure either of you know that. Like, that's just what he said."
"We will!" Mabel affirmed; her voice stronger despite cracking. "I won't let my best friend be all left to be a vagabond, unless she wants to!" Mabel added. Wendy cracked up and laughed, teetering back and forth along the branch of the tree. Mabel even let herself chuckled, the heaviness of her head lifting while her burning heart softened. She added, "Honestly, I could see it for you. You could get a cool jacket, a motorbike, and do stunts! That'd be cool!"
"You guys," Wendy smiled, "You're always keeping me sane; you know that?" she added with a big beaming smile.
Mabel paid her back with a wink. "Well, what can I say?" Mabel smirked, "Gotta keep all my pals in shape, right?" Wendy beamed back at Mabel, and slowly looked back to the building. Mabel followed suit, the warm light reaching the two of them. Something about the rain had eased. While the storm had not lightened, Mabel no longer felt as distant to the world around her. She was cold now, and shivered.
Movement shocked Mabel to her left. Wendy had dropped to her feet. Landing as soft as a leaf, she sat next to Mabel and leaned against the twin. Mabel could only lean back, accepting the haunting warmth that Wendy could not feel in her own body.
"You know, honestly?" Mabel asked quietly, "I think you're more 'older sister' now, after all the stuff we've all been through." Mabel glanced to Wendy, who had suddenly looked away. "Wendy?" Mabel asked, seeing the red-head tense her shoulders. "You okay?"
Wendy nodded, but did not look back. Mabel leaned back, not wishing to invade Wendy's personal space any more than she already had. When she did, she saw the red-head's arm raise to her face and wipe something away. Smiling with a quivering lip, Mabel also pushed away tears from her cheeks.
The two ladies, soaked while sitting under a tree in the rain, stared together at the Mystery Manor, reflecting on the times they had. Silent and still, they let the occasional thunder pound the sky without flinching. The rain tickling their skin had no effect on their tranquility.
Minutes could have elapsed as they sat together, muddy and wet, when finally, Wendy said with a loud sniffle, "Thanks for saying that, Mabel."
Mabel smiled back. "No, thank you," she grinned, and the two laughed. "Okay, this might be outta left field, but seriously," Mabel said, the courage and warmth spending time with Wendy infecting her, "When are you and Dipper going to just become a thing already?"
Wendy snorted and leaned back while laughing. Mabel intently watched her, giving her best friendly glare. "Dude!" Wendy pushed Mabel away as the two laughed. "Where did that come from!?" she demanded between fits of joy.
"I dunno!" Mabel shrugged, "As the sister to my brother, the helplessly attracted boy he is, and you, being the object of his affections and my soon-to-be adopted sister," Mabel added, "I'm getting tired of not knowing what is up between you two!"
Wendy pursed her lips and turned, staring back at the light in the distance. A deep thought passed behind her eyes, giving Mabel the idea that Wendy had been pondering this before. The wraith tilted her head side to side before turning back to Mabel. "Look, I don't know yet," Wendy admitted, "I mean, I don't want to sound rude, but I'm not exactly in the shape to, you know... date? Being technically dead?"
"Hah!" Mabel barked, "They said being alive is the best time, but maybe being dead is even better!"
The two chuckled, but Wendy finally shrugged.
"Look, Dipper's still doing his thing. I'm... not saying no, or never-" Wendy started, but a loud screech from Mabel nearly threw Wendy over.
"OHO! Dipper's got a chance! A CHANCE, UNIVERSE!" Mabel shrieked, running around the tree like an excited chipmunk. Wendy let her run around several times as she babbled, screaming out excited things. "I can finally have Dipper stop staring at all my girl-friends! I've got a wedding to plan! Oh my god, I'll soon be an aunt and-"
"Whoa, whoa!" Wendy reached out and grabbed Mabel, pulling her back to a seat on the wet ground. "Slow that down by a few notches!" Mabel nodded in a blur, and Wendy chuckled, shaking her head. "As far as I'm concerned, Dipper and I are still really good friends, okay? Before you go all... crazy again," Wendy held her grip on Mabel, who bounded up and down, "And more stuff, we should really just... talk. Him and I, I mean."
"Why?" Mabel asked. Wendy lowered her hand and sighed. The female twin instantly could see a hidden pain in the green eyes and gasped. "He shouted at you, didn't he?!"
"I'm not saying I'm not to blame too. He was just angry," Wendy rolled his eyes, "And also being stupid."
"Well, we should go talk to him now!" Mabel decided, and shot up. With a hard tug, she lifted Wendy up as well. "Let's go find that loser and get him to apologize for whatever he did!"
SLAM.
The force of the impact bounded him away as he rolled. Dipper rushed back to his feet.
His arms at his side, lifted up against his head for protection, he spun back to face his foe. Approaching him at a leisurely pace, the Guardsman made no note of Dipper's stance. The teen, bruised all along his face, arms, and body regardless, growled. He made for another series of kicks.
Each time he swung, the Guardsman leaned back, stepped away, or ducked under. After four kicks, a hand shot out and grasped Dipper's leg. Struggling to stand, Dipper hopped in place, feeling his balance shift.
"And boom, your fate is mine to decide, "The Guardsman told Dipper. "Is this really your best, mister Pines?"
"No!" Dipper shouted, and kicked off with his foot and kicked forward with his standing leg. Now entirely in the air, Dipper made to drive his heel into the center of the mask. Instead, the other hand reached up and grasped his foot. Now caught with two hands, Dipper realized his compromised position.
The Guardsman snorted. "Great idea, buddy. Airborne."
With a mighty twist and hurl, Dipper was launched over the Guardsman back and thrown skyward. Yelling as he saw a whirl of darkness and spinning trees, Dipper began to fall just as he straightened up. He wasn't a few feet in the air – he was in the canopy. The Guardsman had somehow thrown him, by strength alone, into the trees.
Dipper reached out with his burned hands in desperation. He caught a branch and screamed. The dull, sickening pain of burned flesh scratching against bark underneath wrappings overwhelmed his senses for a moment. He almost forgot to hang on. Despite the bone-deep searing agony, Dipper was able to begin pulling himself up.
Now on the large branch in the middle of the trees, he looked back to the earth for his foe. He panicked, and started to look all around him. The Guardsman was gone.
"Hey."
Dipper whipped around and waved his arms, fanning the air for balance. The Guardsman, in the time it took Dipper to pull himself up onto the branch, had joined him some ten feet away. He stood atop a swaying sliver of a branch like a cat. The figure in black watched Dipper with his mask intact.
"Don't lag," the Guardsman warned Dipper, and stepped forward, closing the distance. Dipper again kicked out, reaching up as he did for a branch. This time, he could use the branches above and aside him for leverage. The Guardsman blocked, reached and grasped the foot, and yanked.
Dipper was pulled past the guardsman, but he grasped another branch on another tree. He ignored the pain, realizing his situation had to ascend above his own normal pain. As he spun, clenching his jaw tightly to bite away the furious agony caused by his own doing, Dipper saw the Guardsman kick back. Dipper pushed up and backwards, feeling the rush of wind from the kick ruffle his vest and shirt.
Dipper landed and made to balance. The new tree he stood on was slippery, and one bad twist of his ankle had Dipper topple. Rather than plummet, he fell and hit his chest against the branch. Reaching up with his arms, Dipper started tucking his armpits around the branch. It wasn't enough though. He was slipping, the rain made it hard to remain locked in place.
Then something soft brushed against his knuckles. Dipper saw the black fabric and glanced up. The Guardsman peered down at him.
"You're about to learn two lessons. Lesson one. Gravity," the Guardsman said, and put a boot to Dipper's face.
His face being imprinted with mud, Dipper yelled, "Get off me!"
The Guardsman seemed unconcerned. "You see, it is absolutely neutral. It can be bent, but it never obeys."
"I said stop!" Dipper shouted as the boot slowly pushed him down.
"And lesson two," the guardsman said with a small chuckle, "The earth uses Gravity to its best. So... off you go!"
The Guardsman pushed hard. Dipper slipped. Screaming as he plummeted while facing the dark sky, Dipper slammed into a nearby tree branch. The wind knocked out of him, he spun and fell forward, hitting another tree branch. Three more struck him, bashing him again and again until finally he fell six feet and slammed into the earth with a loud and wet slap.
His world was a clenching suit of tense, muscular pain. Every fiber of muscle twisted and shook visibly as he lay in the mud, feeling the cold, water-fed earth wash his face and hair. Something landed nearby, and he looked up. His enemy had landed effortlessly, staring at Dipper.
"That's earth. The enduring. The crushing. The body," the Guardsman stated. "Now use yours and stand," he growled.
Dipper bared his teeth and pushed. His body obeyed, and slowly he got back up.
"Lesson three," the guardsman stated the moment Dipper was back on his two feet, "The nature of water."
Dipper rushed forward. "I've learned about water!" he said, and now swung with his fists, swiping at air as the Guardsman leaned in and out from his strikes. "It's a part of the paths!"
"Water," the guardsman twisted at the shoulders. As Dipper had rushed forward, the Guardsman used his own shoulder to counter-strike Dipper, stunning him with barely a twist of the body. The Guardsman continued his lecture, "It flows. It breaks. It bends. And it drowns," he said, and with a mighty jump back, he raised his hands.
The water of the earth began to tremble. Dipper stalled in his advance, watching as water itself began to flow like a snake around the Guardsman, coiling in large, thick collected streams. Then, with a mighty push of both hands, the man in darkness threw the water at Dipper. Heavy strikes of freezing cold slammed into Dipper, throwing him off his feet and away. As he rolled, flailing through the dispersing water, he finally found air again and coughed. Breathing never felt so good until you thought you were about to drown.
"You know about water, do you?" the Guardsman asked.
Dipper once again pushed himself up., brushing off his shoulder with a wince from his hand. "Yeah, I do," Dipper said, looking to the Guardsman with a heated glare. "I'm learning the paths, and I relate to water! Thought, and-and cunning, and-"
"Then use that," the Guardsman muttered as he darted forward. The speed he used was shockingly faster than anything Dipper would have expected. Dipper had barely enough time to bow aside and lift his hands to buffer the kick. He was still, however, lifted aside and thrown away. Off his feet and slammed against a rock, the wounded teen groaned as he slid down and landed onto his knees and fell forward. His back felt like gelatin. "Now, for fire..."
"No," Dipper said, trying to push up again.
"You've learned plenty of it," the Guardsman stated, and held his hands out to his sides, "But... let's have a warm up about it, shall we?"
Dipper groaned again, more upset at the lame pun than the possible threat. As he finally stood, using the boulder to stand, he saw it. Embers emerging from the Guardsman's open hands. More and more billowed up and into the air, ignoring the heavy rain as they swirled and billowed around. Then the embers grew into streaks of fire itself.
Dipper ducked just as the attack came. A fireball was thrown straight at him, so fast he could barely react. As he rolled, the heated ball of pure flame exploded next to him, throwing up dirt and stones into the air. The Guardsman did not wait for him to recover, and threw another. Instinctively, Dipper raised his hands.
The ball of fire collided with the soaked fabric, and Dipper screamed as a very familiar feeling soared into his arms, and he spun away, bent over as he tucked his hands around his body. It was a reminder of something too fresh to be felt again.
The being in black was nearly completed with its lessons. "And the last touch of the four," the Guardsman said, walking around Dipper, who's eyes shimmered, "Air. Bringing of storms, breath of the future, and a great way of transport. Want a taste?"
Dipper had no chance to move. His body was so worn and beaten that he could only fixate a single defeated sigh from his lips before the wave came.
A current of air rushed into Dipper's face and body. He was lifted, as he had been before and thrown high into the air. Unlike his previous airborne adventure, he slammed his back into the trunk of a tree, and slid to the ground with a loud thud. His back seemed numb. Dipper's finger and toe tips stung. The world swam in his vision. He gasped, and felt as the weight of it all win. Dipper fell to the earth, done.
"Now," the Guardsman said from the distance, "Stand up."
Dipper lifted his head as best her could. Before him was the thrown spike of shadow, still imbedded into the ground.
With a push, Dipper tried lifting himself. A moment later, he fell back.
"I can't," he muttered.
The Guardsman hummed. "Why is that?"
"Because I'm not strong enough to beat you!?" Dipper shouted, the mud spraying from his face as he yelled.
"Really?" The Guardsman repeated, "You cannot stand up because you are unable to best me? No. You can't because you tell yourself you can't," the Guardsman corrected.
"I tried," Dipper pleaded, "I can't get up. You... you're too strong."
"Maybe," the Guardsman nodded, "But my strength has nothing to do with your ability to stand up, does it?"
Dipper lifted his gaze again, studying the figure in black. He hadn't approached. The creature really was just watching him from the safe distance, eying him from behind that mask. Dipper let that point sink in, as he had no fight left otherwise. He felt his body, mentally tallying the bruises he had felt. To his great relief, he felt strong. He was tired, but the anger was leaving behind the strength he wanted.
The Guardsman chuckled. "Finally thinking with your head, and not your rage. Good. Now... stand."
Dipper stared for a moment. His mind was finally cooling and clearing. The haze of injury faded from him. The hate for the creature gone, Dipper did what he suddenly knew he should have done from the beginning. He reached forward, and took hold of the weapon. With it in his clutches, he lifted himself up.
Staggering to his feet, Dipper held the long spear of shadow in his hands. The Guardsman clapped loudly, applauding him.
"Yes! Yes! Very good!" the creature in the veil said. "You finally started using your greatest strength."
"My mind?" Dipper asked with a fought back smile.
The Guardsman nodded. "Indeed. And now that you have a weapon in your clutches... I surrender," the Guardsman suddenly bowed.
"WHAT?!" Dipper shouted, dropping the spear accidentally. He scrambled to reach it, and held it in his hands. "You – you would have just given up if I had grabbed the spear!?" The Guardsman nodded again. Dipper had all the exasperation in the world rush through his brain at once, followed by absolute, stark, relief.
"To be fair, Dipper," the Guardsman stood back up, "You wouldn't have grabbed the spear in the first place." Dipper went to speak, but the Guardsman held up his head. "The fact that you even wanted to fight was enough to tell me you weren't thinking straight. That was the test – to act in your best interests, or to act on your anger. Besides, it made my job to help you much easier."
"Help me?" Dipper repeated, holding the spear to the side, "What did you help me with exactly? You punched me all over the place!" The Guardsman shrugged. "Unless... you were teaching me some crazy secret fighting technique?"
"No. I just cleared you out a few ways," the Guardsman admitted, and held out two fingers, "One, I think you're thinking much clearer."
"That's a given... I don't think throwing all those crazy techniques at me was required though," Dipper scolded the Guardsman, who then wiggled the second finger.
"Two, and this one is important," he said to Dipper, "You feel a lot clearer."
"Huh?" Dipper asked.
"Tell me, how's the weight on my shadow-spike?" the Guardsman asked Dipper.
Dipper then turned to look at it. "Well, I don't know, I didn't really... wait," Dipper realized something. He was holding it. He had been holding it since he pulled himself back to his feet. But the feat itself wasn't impressive... it was the lack of pain.
Dipper slowly reached out with one hand and clenched it. Nothing happened. He felt no shocking, horrible burn. Then the other hand twisted. He was fine. With a mad scramble, Dipper undid all the wrapping, occasionally making sure the Guardsman was still there. After a moment, the fabric was gone.
His hands were healed. Perfectly normal. No scarring either!
"But... how?" Dipper asked, looking over his healed hands.
"Each of the four elements, when combined," the Guardsman explained, "Are the forces that supposedly craft life. I would know," he added with a small bounce on his heels, "You know, making the paths myself."
Dipper slowly looked up. "You... made the paths?" The Guardsman nodded. "Arline's master is also the original... of the original?"
"Guilty as charged," the Guardsman chuckled. "So, Dipper," the Guardsman reached into his sleeve, and withdrew the starry-like black spear resembling the shadow spike, "Do I need to defend myself?"
Dipper paused, looking at the figure which he had, up until very recently, considered an enemy. "No," Dipper shook his head.
"Good," the Guardsman sighed, and the spear seemed to deflate and flatten, spiraling back up the sleeve, "I've had enough fighting for a day. So... you ready to try this again from the beginning?"
"Yes," Dipper nodded. He took a long breath, and then asked, "The stone. The one Steindorf wants."
"Ah, that thing," the Guardsman poked his thumb over his shoulder, "That's the stone of conservation."
"What does it do?" Dipper asked, approaching the Guardsman.
"Long ago, more than four hundred, actually," the Guardsman said, watching Dipper approach, "A great Mage crafted it to save the world. It, at the time, instantly absorbed eighty percent of all magic on earth and around earth."
"Wait, what?" Dipper asked. The Guardsman stared at him, giving the teen the idea that he had answered his question as fully as he was willing to. While Dipper craved for more, pushing his luck was no longer an option. He was still, at minimum, sore from his beating. "So, it's the cause for all the magic in Gravity Falls?"
"Just about," The Guardsman turned, pointing to the four stones, "You see, as time goes on, the amount of magic in the world still grows. But the eighty percent magic it lost is beginning to leak out. It radiates from the stone-"
"Contaminating the area with magical pollution," Dipper finished, his eyes wide "Weirdness Magnetism." When the tall being looked to Dipper, he added, "There was someone I knew who called it that. He didn't know what caused it."
"We can call it 'residual arcana'," The Guardsman said to Dipper, giving him a quick glance.
"If that's the case, why did Omir Stiendorf want it?" Dipper asked, "If it just contains magic, it would be bad for him."
The Guardsman shook his head and leaned against the boulders. "The Starkissed Stone of Conservation is just a sponge. A sponge so full that it's leaking out its water to the area around it. Just as it can suck up magic, it can also..." he lingered, watching Dipper carefully.
Dipper gasped. "It can be squeezed," Dipper finished. "He wants to use all that magic for something. What is it?" he asked the Guardsman.
The figure on the boulder leaned back, turning his head to the sky. "Something bad."
"You don't know?" Dipper gasped.
"I didn't say that," the Guardsman told Dipper, "But... it's not something I like talking about."
"Oh," Dipper mumbled.
"Dipper," the Guardsman turned to him, looking down on the young teen, "You need to understand the dangers of magic. Arcana is a power that keeps giving. It infects and corrupts minds great and evil alike. Just as it is endlessly bountiful, it is endlessly capable. The Sorcerer, as you know him, Omir, he was one of the few I've ever known to not be as carried away as others."
"Wait," Dipper held a hand to the Guardsman, "You mean Omir was a 'polite spellcaster'?"
"Oh yes," the Guardsman nodded, "Just look at his apprentice." Dipper hissed and nodded. "Dipper, this is why I made the Paths. We have to find a discipline to this power. Then we have the understanding to what it can do as we can still use it."
Something about the conversation rung with Dipper. The concept that his being created the martial arts that had saved his life, and his sister's life, many times was already hard enough to wrap his head around. On top of that, he then realized and remembered something said earlier that day.
"You and Omir," Dipper started slowly, watching the Guardsman carefully, "You... were close once?"
"...You could tell?" the Guardsman stated.
"It reminded me of the way my two Great Uncles would fight," Dipper shrugged, "Just with less fire and explosions. Most of the time."
The Guardsman chuckled and leaned back, nodding. "Yes. We were many things, back then. Friends. Comrades, once. He said once that we were sort of competitors, but I never wanted that. For your sake, I can say he was my first pupil of the Paths."
"He – what?!" Dipper gasped, and then put a hand to his face. "Great. He knew magic and martial arts."
"Know's," the Guardsman corrected.
Dipper blinked, and looked up. Trickles of cold raced through his body as the correction suddenly connected in his mind. He understood what he meant. "He's alive," Dipper stated.
"His own little firecracker won't kill him," the Guardsman said. "He's strong, intelligent, driven, and for the most part, kind," the Guardsman sighed, his hands drifting into a set pair of pockets in the inside of his robes.
"You... you still care about him, don't you?" Dipper asked. It took a moment, but the Guardsman finally nodded, but remained silent. Dipper bit on his lip gently. A burning question was eager to be answered. "If... if you had the chance, all this time, to kill him... w-would you?" Dipper tried.
To that answer, Dipper was met with silence.
"Sorry," he quickly apologized.
That time, he was met with a long, drawn-out sigh. "No, no," the Guardsman shrugged, "Don't worry about it. It's normal to be curious. We want to know everything about that which we don't. So, don't worry. And as far as I know, you don't know anything about me. Thus, curiosity."
Dipper smirked. "Well, no. I know a little. I know you're the master of the Paths, and are totally into dramatic ways of helping people."
The Guardsman laughed, holding his stomach. The sound behind the mask infected Dipper, and he too laughed. Finally, the Guardsman straightened and shook his head. "Still. I can't say you know me too well."
Dipper nodded. "Yeah. Will we get the chance to?" He asked suddenly, "Me and my sister? Mabel?"
The Guardsman scratched at the chin on his mask. A moment's thought later, and he replied, "I don't know. There's a lot to catch up on. If you're lucky, maybe."
"Oh," Dipper rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, "So optimistic." The Guardsman snorted. The two stood before one another, absolutely soaked in mud and rain water. Dipper was becoming envious of the long shroud around the man's body. He was starting to shiver. "Well... I think I need to go back. Now that I'm not a jerk, I can help people out."
"That's a mild improvement," the Guardsman said, surely grinning behind the mask. Dipper turned, his own grin wide and proud. "Dipper." The teen stalled and turned to face his new-ally. "Omir is not done. You guys really hit him hard with his little underground operation, but he's not done by a long shot. He'll start swinging wildly soon now, especially since you all could get in his way," the Guardsman stepped forward, and reached for his hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Just... be ready. Things are only about to get a lot more... intense."
Hearing the words come from an emotionless mask on a tall, cloaked figure was enough to make Dipper gulped. Once the hand lowered from his shoulder, the teen turned again, and walked away. The rain-splattered grass and mud under his foot, Dipper began to climb back up the mild climb. Half way there, he considered himself lucky he was alive, and with fully functional hands. He turned. "Hey, thanks-"
The Guardsman was gone.
"... Show off," Dipper mumbled as he rolled his eyes. With a quick turn, he then ran off in the direction he knew the Mystery Manor to be.
Hope is reborn.
Dark, brooding, sad, and now a brighter horizon comes.
Or... does it?
Dunno. Stay tuned to find out! :O
-EZB
"Here it is, sir. The place we found the scorch marks you told us to look for."
"Thank you, gentlemen. You are dismissed to headquarters for re-assignment."
"Sir?"
"Off you go."
Deep underground in a scorched interior ante-chamber, two decorated but beaten-up security guards in suits limped away, leaving behind a perfectly healthy and re-aged Omir Steindorf. Facing away from the breach in rock that led to the tall, spiraling up walkway to the tunnels, he looked at a dangling chain.
He reached out, yet never touched it. His once again wrinkled face eyed the dark metal. Grim, somber eyes slowly followed it down, peering into the abyss. He snapped his fingers, and the chain link nearest his hand snapped. The coiling, rusted metal slumped into darkness, rattling away.
Omir clenched his eyes shut as he heard something thud, deep below him. With a moment to let the rattling echoes still, turned downward and stared into darkness.
"Oh, my poor boy."
With that, he jumped into the black abyss below.
His fall was not a free one. His descent was controlled and slow. Air blew past him freely as he followed the tightly pulled chain to the source. He continued to lower himself. The dim lights above faded from view, like he was descending into the pits of the sea. An orb of light shone brilliantly next to his head, and cast the walls into shock whiteness. The bright light cast stark shadows, and Omir Steindorf looked terrible. Physically, he was fine. Misery had become a new fashion statement.
Eventually he landed at the bottom of the pit
Seven feet before him, chains tied around his neck, was Graupner Kinley.
"Oh, my boy, you damn fool," Omir whined.
He took a sudden seat, his knees failing him. Omir took hastened breaths, and found his eyes shimmering.
"I'm so sorry," he told the unmoving body. "I… had many chances to treat you right, and I pride myself for that. Did I treat you correctly?" he asked the body. His own voice echoed above him. "I… I always knew I was not a good parent. Too busy. Too… different than you. I tried so hard to keep you safe, out of trouble, but now look."
The body laid still. Omir scratched at his scalp, taking a shaking sob.
"I never knew she was alive. Otherwise, things might have been different."
The body jolted upright with a loud gasp of air. Omir roared with terror and leapt to his feet. The chains around the neck of Graupner Kinley rattled and clinked noisily. Graupner Kinley, missing a certain facial feature, clamped a hand over his left eye. "Ow," he groaned
Omir, breathing heavily, took a step closer. "Gruapner? My boy?"
"I am not your boy!" Graupner cried out, reaching up to pry the chains away from his neck.
"I don't understand," Omir admitted.
At that, Graupner cackled. "There's a lot you don't understand, boss."
"No, you have died," Omir told him. "You fell, with that chain, and–" he gasped, and slapped his own face with a palm. "No! No, you did not do what I think you have done!"
Graupner sneered as he took to a seat, checking the wounds on his face. He was pretty cut up still, but most of the smaller injuries were close quickly. "Nice," Graupner told himself, "That'll be helpful."
Omir stomped the ground. "You idiot!" he shouted to Graupner.
The Warlock opened his now single eye, as his other eye socket had a missing feature. "What?" the Warlock demanded. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
"Define alive!" Omir roared at him as Graupner struggled to lift his arm up and pull on the chain, desperate to free himself. "You're animate, but alive?"
"Well, I feel fine," Graupner stated, and finally freed himself from the chains.
"They always have, you damned idiot," the Sorcerer grumbled, "The condition worsens. Have you not heard of the old tales? The Shadow of the Alps?"
"Whatever," the Warlock snorted, and then a hand in front of his face. "Shoot. Lost depth perception. Whatever, I can fix that later," he shrugged, and tore off a part of his sleeve, and wrapped it around his left eye-socket. He found his master towering above him, glaring down at the seemingly alive apprentice. "What?! Aren't you impressed?!"
Omir shook his head. "Graupner, what you are giving up is more than just vulnerability. People who go down this path lose themselves within years. You could have had centuries! I would have taught you the agelessness spell eventually! If only you had been patient, you–"
Graupner rolled his eyes. "Well, now I'm ageless and no one can really kill me. Not without some serious firepower or their own dark magic. Now, boss," he said with a smirk, "I can really kill anyone who gets in my way."
The Sorcerous billionaire looked at the younger man before him. His eyes shone with a horror he had not felt in hundreds of years. "You… really would just kill those who step into your way?"
"Yes?"
"Graupner," Omir approached him, "Why? Why are you doing this? How–"
Graupner Kinley, the Warlock, chuckled. "I made a deal with the right person. Trade one thing for another. The kid's research was more helpful than he realized. He really reversed engineered certain dark magics. Now look at what I am."
"Graupner, this isn't right," Omir pleaded with him.
"Like I care," Graupner shrugged. Omir let out a small, pained gasp. "I'm always a monster to someone. There's always someone trying to control me, to hurt me. The cops, those kids, you-"
"Me?!" Omir cried out.
At that, Graupner rolled his eye. "Whatever. Now... shall I continued to serve, and learn from you, my master?"
The Sorcerer, Omir Steindorf, stared down at the blond figure. He gulped. There was a certain uncertainty that was alien to the rich man very much present in his eyes. "Yes, then we can sort this all out."
"Good," Graupner groaned, and approached the wall closest to the entrance, "We should get going. I have a score to settle. I want to deal with them all, Boss. All of them. Send them to me. I'm going to show that punk what real pain is. Better yet," Graupner Kinley gave such a horrid leer that Omir Steindorf felt ill, and the Warlock cheerfully told him, "I'm going to teach them what I've learned about death."
Soon, with Steindorfs help, they were levitating out of the pit. There was no magic to quell the panic rising in the old sorcerer's heart. He turned to look at the side of his apprentice, his pupil, his ward.
What had he let this young man become?
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