(D)Epilogue
The soft, snow-white moonlight shines upon her similar colored face and muzzle. It gives her already gracious appearance a heavenly reflection. The glimmering in her sapphire blue eyes shines bright as she looks into the moon above, like it's the most beautiful celestial body in the universe. Even more beautiful than her own planet, she is bound to rule over some day.
Wearing a semi-transparent, beige and royally decorated dress, standing on the balcony of her castle. The wind softly blows past her loose hair, making locks of it dance upon the breeze coming by. It also blows against and underneath her dress, getting goose bumps all over her legs and thighs. In the distance, a bard sings about myths as his accompanying instrument makes the rather plain text sounds like high-end poetry. For the rest, there is silence and a brilliant view on the quiet towns below and the endless mountain ranges in the distance.
She could listen, watch and wonder at this symphony of unmatched beauty forever. The only thing that is breaking the immersion is her iron chastity belt that feels like a lump of dead weight she has to carry around in between her legs. It's also very, very itchy. As if some stinky mold has been growing underneath.
Luckily for her it's not all that bothering. Especially since she had other things to worry about. Namely that dream that was supposedly six days long. It's still something that stayed present in the back of her head since it's hard to believe that 10 years or maybe even more can be cramped into a dream. And then feel so incredibly realistic.
"Six days can easily fill 10 years of living in the dream world like you said. The longer you are asleep, the more realistic it becomes. Both in experiencing the events unfolding as well as what is unfolding. Everything becomes closer to reality and sooner than later you will find yourself believing that the dream is real life."
She remembers Sciltch's explanation quite well. If it was reality or a dream, or this where she currently is a dream or reality, tore her perception of things pretty well. In a good way, as she sees everything as a blessing nowadays. But curiousness was never something she could hold back. Eventually, she couldn't resist it back and she started to keep her diary again. It was something she felt like doing.
The first reunion with the small book wasn't a very pleasant one however, as visions of her writing some twisted scrabbles into it came to mind. She seemed very panicked about some paper that was on a desk in her room that was not her own. When the butler came in, it wasn't the grey wolf she has come to know and cared about for so long, but some boring stereotype one. She already forgot his name.
But the names she couldn't get out of her head, she noted in the back of her diary. All written down along with their respective roles and characteristics. Starting with her supposed main love interest Fox McCloud and ending with the main bad guy of her dream, this so called Délarbé. After that had been done, she began to put some puzzle pieces together.
"Dreams are reflections of your subconscious. Everything you truly feel will come up when you sleep. Either it be in a wonderful dream, or a malicious nightmare."
Under that motto, she tried to find out if the dream meant something significant to her. She went through all the major characters and after some intensive studying she came up with a rather anti-climactic conclusion; she didn't appreciate those around her enough. Blind to everything they did for her and are to her.
It's not she expected justification for her actions in the past, but there might have been more to it. Yet everything points to her own conclusion. All the characters always mentioned her stubbornness and wanted to eradicate it from her mind. "To think with the core and not with the head" or something like that.
This only lead to more confusion and she decided to leave if for another time. After all, it has been a week since and most of what she hadn't written down then has sunken away in forgetfulness. In the meantime, she tried to live by her conclusion instead, not by a motto she can barely put together. That meant that the relationship between her and her parents stabilized.
She told them how she felt about their passive reaction to her disease. Genuine feelings of guilt were displayed by both her mother and father, admitting that taken a religious look upon their own daughter was not only wrong, but selfish and childish. They were just trying to protect her and raise her to be daughter who knows manners and values, something every parent wants for their child.
Krystal returned her mother's ring she had stolen a few days before at the same time. She felt ashamed for doing it. Like she forgave her parents, her mother returned the favor.
As for her slave-ish friend Sciltch, he went through a total transformation as Krystal realized he meant so much more to her than maybe apparent at first glance. Because when she was studying her dream notes, it seemed that some of these characters she felt in close relationship with or was in one, have matching characteristics to Sciltch. The two biggest being Fox and Phantom. Could he be a mix of the both of them then?
However, since she already gave up on the studies for a while, she let it float away. Every concern seemed to disappear the minute she stopped thinking about them and actually started to live. She and Sciltch have been in a more open relationship together. Her parents know of it as something that has started only recently.
"Better keep our past a secret." she said to Sciltch three days ago, who nodded instantly after they had another night spend together.
Krystal decides to leave it for what it is and focus on the beautiful view again. All these thoughts only murder the immersion. More so than the chastity belt does. She sighs deep and bows her head a bit, eyes closed.
In her concentrated state, she has no idea that Sciltch snuck into her room. The sight of her, with her backside turned to him and dressed in those cloths feels welcoming instantly. Very carefully, he sneaks up to her and to whisper something in her ear when he can't come any closer.
"Whatcha ya pondering about Ma Vaoha?" He embraces Krystal from the back, enclosing his arms around her middle as Krystal softly squeaks, liking this very much.
My fiery one. He got really original with his nicknames for me. But I love this one so much! "Oh please Sciltch! Don't call me that. You know I blush terribly when you call me that."
"I know that." he admits teasing as he kisses her neck. "Mind if I'd join you?"
"You're already here sweety." she replies with a snigger. "But I couldn't wish for anything else on this night."
"I'm very glad to hear that. Were you waiting for me?" he asks knowing very well that she was.
"Just staring at the moon." she replies quasi-indifferent.
Of course she had been waiting for him. She was the one that told one of the maids to fetch Sciltch for her. The maid giggled like a nervous Japanese girl and left the room to get him for her. He was in his own room, one he was handed to by Krystal's father. Previously sleeping in a storeroom, he now has a significantly larger bedroom with a wardrobe of his choosing. He was trying out some new attires when the maid came to fetch him.
He decided to go with the "relaxed" look as he himself dubbed it. Some pants and a simple shirt without an overprint on it. He wears no shoes when going for this style, because he hates them. Never, ever wore them in his life so why should he start now? Also, shoes would make a lot more noise and would have alerted Krystal.
And that wouldn't be so nice. Krystal likes being surprised by a hug from behind her big grey wolf when she's emptying her mind. A bit strange but she needed a distraction from cleaning up her memory too. Like a distraction for a distraction. And to complete it, a dotty remark about her parents' religion.
"You're not turning into a religious loony like your parents, right?"
"Oh cut it out Sciltch! I've bettered my relationship with them, don't try to ruin it."
"I'm not Krystal. I wouldn't dare." he says strongly confident about his own words. "I was just wondering and concerned about you. What if you were and I would get that disease hm?"
Krystal frees herself from Sciltch's cozy grip and turns around to playfully slap his cheek in feigned anger. She can't be mad at her joker. "Don't say such things Sciltch. You naughty boy." she ends with a wink to it, turning around again and bending over slightly to lean on the low balcony walls protecting her from falling off.
Sciltch takes the hint with a snigger and wraps his arms around her middle again, letting her shoulder be the support his lower jaw rests on. They stay in this position for a few minutes in complete silence. They sway about a little but nothing major.
"So how's Ma Vaoh doing?" asks Sciltch out of the blue.
Krystal is a little surprised by it but can respond almost immediately. "What do you mean sweetie?"
"Well… with all the dream stuff. It must have had a major impact on your life and your perception on everything."
"Oh please. Don't start me on it." sighs Krystal getting tired already about just thinking about thinking about it.
"I didn't mean your study in your diary. I was more aiming at the possible aftermath you are experiencing from the dream. Like hallucinations and all that."
"Hm…" Krystal has to make her grey mass work for this one. She knows that recovering from a disease takes time and that the aftermath of one like she had could be severe. But it wasn't. Maybe only once when she opened her diary but that was it. Well… that and some faint noises she's hearing.
"There might be something… but it's probably nothing." she waves off, not wanting to sound weak or needy for Sciltch's magnificent aftercare.
Sciltch's persistence however, kissing her in the neck and placing his hands on hips, massaging and swaying them around a bit more than last time, is too much for her.
"Okay okay, I'll tell you. But only if you don't stop with what you are doing that is." she conditions flirty.
"Yes Princess." says Sciltch oh so obedient, doing what she said.
Enjoying it, Krystal tells him that she hears a voice in her room. It always comes at a random point in time. Always coming from another spot. Sometimes it's right into her ear and she gets startled. Other times it comes from a far corner and it sounds like innocent rustling.
"And the weirdest thing of all… the voice is whimpering. As if… it wants to me wake up. That's what it says. "Please K- wake up." I never hear who that "K" is but I really doubt that it could be me."
"Yet you're concerned?"
"Yes. Yes I'am Sciltch."
He gives her an assuring kiss in the neck as his embrace around her gets a little tighter. His way of telling her that everything is going to be alright. Safely enclosed in his arms, protecting her from all.
"Listen Krystal. I'll be visiting the doctor tomorrow."
"Really? For what then?"
One arm leaves his embrace and feels around his throat. "Because I got a horrible ache right here. It feels like sandpaper every time I swallow, inhale, exhale or anything. It's like someone ripped a significant portion of it out."
"Yegh! Sounds painful and… pretty disgusting." comments Krystal, not a fan of the analogy Sciltch just made.
"Well, that's why I'm going to see him. And when I'm there, I can tell him that you're experiencing side-effects." Krystal's ears focus and her pupils shrink a bit on that last sentence as Sciltch, aware of that, nuzzles in her neck. "I know you hate to admit any sort of weakness Princess. But that's why I'm here for. To protect you and to serve you."
A small, sneaky smirk appears on Sciltch's face. He knows that Krystal is going to tell him otherwise. Though he wants to prevent Krystal from speaking out her weaknesses when she doesn't want to, when it's about him, he manages to twist it in such a way, she will do it eventually.
And Krystal bites. "Oh Sciltch. You're so much more than just that." claims Krystal lovely. "You're… well… you've become my mate. And I shouldn't- I mean… I'm not afraid to say so."
The smile gets a bit larger but less sneaky. "Is that correct?"
A slightly sassy "Hmph" accompanied by a subtle nod is Krystal's answer to that. It makes Sciltch cuddle his Vaoh even tighter, much to her enjoyment too.
"I'm very glad to hear that. Because…" He takes a deep breath, not believing what is gonna come out of his mouth. "…I've spoken to your old man."
"What!?" utters Krystal with a loud voice.
"I know, it sounds ridiculous. But hear me out."
Krystal grumbles but allows Sciltch to tell his story. "Okay then. It already happened I guess. Besides, you're not dead so it must have gone pretty well."
When her father doesn't like someone, usually bad things happen to him or her. He is the king so he needs only the smallest of reasons to put traitor, criminal or some other accusing title on someone's name before that unlucky person is dragged to the gallows. And that is if he or she is lucky. Her father can be even more brutal, treating that person like an animal and allowing him or her to be tortured to no extent.
Since her father was never too keen of Sciltch's presence around his only daughter, Krystal expected that Sciltch would receive an immediate decapitation by her father's sword, which he always carries with him hidden within a golden and lavishly decorated scabbard, if he even looked at him in a wrong way.
But as Sciltch tells her, it was her father who started the conversation. Her father seemed a bit uncomfortable when he accosted him. Not that he was someone inferior to his royal self, but rather as a concerned father.
"He apologized to me for the first time in… ever actually. He said that he felt sorry leaving you and saddling me up with your care. He was not coming up with an excuse for the reason why but he told me the mint truth."
"I'm glad to hear that Sciltch. But that's not the only thing he approached you about, was it?" asks Krystal teasingly, already knowing the answer after a quick peek in Sciltch's memories.
Sciltch chuckles. "Of course that wasn't all Ma Vaoh. As I said, he came to me as a concerned father. And when in the world is your father ever concerned?"
"When we are at war and we can't win the battles?"
"Aside from that nonsensical nonsense I mean." replies Sciltch tightening his arms around Krystal even more, softly nibbling in her neck as he tickles her belly.
"Nyyaa!" squeals Krystal, laughing in between while trying to get out. She submits only a second later. "Okay okay. Mercy! When it's about me! When it's about me" she shouts guffawing.
Sciltch stops and confirms Krystal's answer given after some torture tickling. "Your father was worried if I would treat you right. Since he aimed his eyes on some other male person for some time now."
Her laughing subsides. "Oh no… Don't tell me he was trying to marry me off to some oaf who doesn't love me, only cares about himself, his title and taking over my father irreplaceable legacy. Because it that's the case, I would punch that knucklehead so many times in the groin, people will only laugh at him when the only thing he can do is squeak."
Sciltch, imagining that happening, laughs. "Can I help in that case?"
"Is that what he said then?" she asks quite fierce.
"Don't snarl like that Ma Vaoh. You know your father is a very progressive man. Out of all the options he had to find you the perfect mate, marrying you out was last on his list."
"So what did he say?"
"Like I said; he wanted the perfect mate for you. Someone that can take care of you, love you, be with you and yeah… marry you. He even found a note... I seemingly wrote."
"You wrote a note?"
"I had no idea as well." He grabs it out of his pocket and quotes what it says.
"She'll be mine. What I didn't admit before, I will do now. Krystal is the best thing that ever happened to me. Since I met her, my world has become something where the sun shines instead of haze that thrives. But as time progresses on, I could forget I ever lived by these words. Therefore, I write this down. So I may never forget this."
"You wrote that? It doesn't sound like you."
"I know. But romantic still not?"
A mild shrug is Krystal's reaction. "Feels a bit hasted."
"Anyway, this proved something to your father. So someone that can take care of you, love you, be with you and yeah… marry you..." He pauses to grab something very vital out of his pocket and holds it in front of Krystal's face, which lights up after her eyes glanced upon the iron object. "… is apparently me Krystal."
Sciltch lowers the object and puts them in Krystal's receiving hands. "The key to our happiness has been given to me."
"Oh my god…" replies Krystal emotional as tears of joy begin to sprout out of her eyes when she realizes that in her hands, lies the key to frees her from her chastity belt. Not that this hasn't happened in the weeks before, but now it doesn't need to be happening in secret any longer. And she doesn't have to put it back on ever again.
Is this real? Or is this a dream? My father… gives the key to what kept me… uhm… "pure"… to Sciltch. So it's finally there. Me and Sciltch… finally.
"What do you think?" asks her loved one.
Krystal can't answer. Her throat is choked up with feelings trying to rush out, all at once. Her heart sings as her brain cannot comprehend all the excitement. She just quivers a bit as she lets Sciltch nuzzle in her neck. Thoughts turn rampant, being nothing more than a distorted mess now. But she can nod however, which she does as the tears stream down her cheeks.
"May I then?" He takes the key out of Krystal's paws when she nods again.
"Y-Yes you can…" whimpers Krystal, sniveling a bit.
Sciltch lifts the dress up and over Krystal's shoulder he looks down at the chastity belt. The keyhole is not visible but after locking and unlocking that hole for some time already, he knows where to find it. Even though he misses a couple of times, he manages to insert it and unlock the damn thing.
With a mighty clang, the lock is lifted as the belt glides off Krystal's legs and hits the ground. Krystal gasps as this happens but is calmed by the subtle touches of Sciltch in the affected areas. As another cool breeze blows by, she can finally feel the chilly fresh air against her inner thighs in a long time. The itch, the general irritation and the humiliating feeling of wearing such a thing are gone by Sciltch's hand.
Krystal couldn't be happier. She uses Sciltch's upper arms to get rid of her tears and turns towards him. His hands move along, stroking her lower back and sometimes going even lower, caressing her buttocks. Krystal embraces her grey wolf in a loving hug, nuzzling while doing so.
"I love you Sciltch." she declares still quivering a bit.
"I love you too Krystal." He kisses her head. "I have always loved you. And nothing is gonna change that."
Krystal looks up at Sciltch with a hopeful expression on her face and sparkling in her eye. "Nothing is ever going to change that. And if you want me to proof that…" She starts to push Sciltch a little more into her room, with the bed as the eventual goal in the back of her head. "… I think that I know the perfect way to do so."
Sciltch plays along, giving the impression he's trying to resist. He's much stronger than Krystal but he allows this to happen anyway. He likes it. Especially the idea that he'll be "storming" with her very soon appeals well to him. Now that there's no danger in getting caught, he can do with her as he pleases. He leaves the key, entrusted to him by Krystal's father, behind in the chastity belt. He has his own key to use for this night.
As pleasure and love happens that night behind the curtains of the balcony and beneath the bedspread, the room is filled with giggling, moaning and feelings of lust. The bed is rocking from side to side giving creaking noises all over. All of those sounds are blocking some vague whimpering that Krystal spoke off before. What is described to her as a side-effect of the recovery process following her Sleeping Beauty disease is not heard by her. Coming from a faraway corner, uttering the same words again and again…
Please K- Wake UP!
Please K- Wake up!
Please K- wake up…
Please…
Please
...
...
Krystal… Don't leave me like this. Wake up…
A clenched fist falling down with the force and intensity of a tree going timber, hits the soft and very anti-climactic mattress with a very faint thud. All the force was for nothing. All was for nothing as a tear drops on that clenched fist, completely cramping together when the drip is felt. Claws puncture the skin like nails in our holy Messiah on the faithful Cross hanging on the wall above.
A last-ditch attempt for a desperate man who for three days tried his best to wake her up. Playing the album they listened to together in his '67 Chevy Camaro over and over again. With the emphasis on that one song with the "nothing special" beginning.
Looting hospitals and pharmacies while the world around him literally went to hell. With feigned medical and true battlefield experience, he concocted various mixtures in the hope it would wake her up. But nothing worked. In fact, his attempts may just be the thing that got her killed.
However, he tends not to think that way. Slightly delusional and overcome with grief, he looks at the pale face of the one he lost. He strokes his paw along her stone-cold and like papyrus feeling skin of her cheek.
"I should have never gone to the police station. I should have never left you alone. I could have protected you when you went to the other side. I could have held your hand to know that I was still there. To let you know that I care about you and... gllk..."
He chokes on his words as a clot formed in his throat. He's getting a little too emotional with his words and thoughts of how it could have been. Imagining her alive and kicking is a nasty contrast to reality and he can't handle that. Giving himself a mental slap to the face, the clot falls apart as his feelings continue to flow out.
"Now that your heart has stopped beating and life has been drained from your body, I can feel nothing more than loneliness and guilt. You were the only that understood me. That went along with me. That actually managed to get along with me. I-If only... I could be with you one more time... Wake up Krystal... please."
Silence takes over as Krystal's dead body can't answer Phantom's plea. It has been that way for three days. Ever since he got back from the police station, which was eerily abandoned. He tried to call the emergency number but the female-toned robot voice told him politely that overwhelmed; thousands of others were calling as well.
From there on, anarchy started. An army of gold-plated, inverted cross-mask wearing freaks started to march through the streets. They wreaked havoc and caused everyone to panic. No hiding place was safe as the servants of the self-proclaimed New Lord of the Underworld Délarbé searched every teeny tiny corner and stripped it from life.
The police station was taken over with ease. The hospitals were poisoned by infecting the water supply with deadly viruses and bacteria coming from the rotting carcasses they brought with them from hell. The fire department was ironically firebombed and burned down to the ground at the end of the day.
Phantom doesn't really know what happened next. All he did was evading death over and over again as bullets, rockets, shells, missiles, shrapnel and even severed body parts used as projectiles were fired at him. Just so he could get whatever he thought he needed to bring Krystal back to the world of the living. All in vain it seems.
Outside the window of Krystal's room, the sight of Papetoon City burning and the blood-red moon rising up from the horizon is a horrifying reminder that his own life isn't secure as well. At any given time, an explosive or any other lethal device could be thrown in through the open window. Or someone could kick the door down and make him eat lead.
However, that possible someone is already inside the room. Standing behind Phantom, he has seen Phantom weep over the death of Krystal with an unsettling satisfaction. Hints of disappointment are also there however. He was told that Phantom had an inner killing machine that could be triggered to activation with the snap of a finger. But all Dagon has seen, is just another useless meat sack whimpering over a loss.
"You're pathetic." Dagon leaves nothing to the imagination and gets straight to the point. "I was told you were the number 4. Psycho! But all I've seen so far is nothing but whimpering and crying."
Dagon's disappointment turns to anger, resisting the urge to instinctively kick him to the ground. However, Phantom reacts in a way he didn't expect. His voice made all the hairs rise on Phantom's skin, which isn't uncommon when he speaks to mortals. But Phantom doesn't give in to fear and without warning, he reaches for his trusty three-barreled revolver and aims it at Dagon's forehead.
"Save your words and go back to hell." says Phantom unusually calm, hoping to have impressed him enough for him to go about his own business.
Dagon, though somewhat surprised at first, utters a depriving snigger in a furthermore calm demeanor. "I will. Soon. But first I'm here for other business." In one swift move of his hand and arm, he manages to twist Phantom's arm to the point of breaking it. "You have to excuse me. That aiming at me was getting on my nerves. So if you'd be so kind to let it go."
Phantom is seemingly unresponsive to Dagon's armlock but that's only because he bites his tongue. Showing weakness might only drive him to do even worse stuff with him. Phantom decides to end it all at once and lets go of the gun. All Dagon hears and cares about is the sound of the chrome hitting the floor of the hotel room. Without a single grain of care to be spotted on his face, he lets go of Phantom's arm.
He ponders about in the room, sunken in his own thoughts as Phantom loosens up his arm. He approaches the window and takes a quick peek outside. The same as Phantom saw, but Dagon loves this scene more than anything at this moment. The fires of the burning city give a reflect on his eyes, mirroring the burning feeling he has inside of him.
"Why the fuck are you here!?" shouts Phantom all of the sudden.
"Hm?"
"I said why the fuck are you here!?" shouts Phantom again. "If you just came here to patronize me, you're too late."
"Glad you popped the question." mutters Dagon with a shady smile. "It is because I might have some very interesting for you."
"Something interesting?"
"Please Phantom. I can sense distrust in your question. Délarbé wouldn't be happy to see his first number 4 be at such a low point that he doesn't know that he trust the person that is me." Without looking, he points to Krystal. "You care about her, don't you?"
He grates his teeth in defiance. Every single bit inside of him hates this moment and the feeling is getting worse with every despicably long second. But something is compelling to answer.
"Yes... I do. She's the only that understood me."
"Aside from the whole world, Mark and yourself." His arm returns to be loosely hanging by his side. "I mean come on, you've been dragging yourself down immensely since your time at Butcher. You live off self-pity and distractions to propel yourself forward. Calling yourself hypocrite helps dealing with it even more. All you needed, was someone like her." He sniggers again. "Yes, she understood you. Only because neither of you were willing to face it. Because of that, you two were puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly."
Phantom swallows hard, like he had to ingest a big bitter pill but he lets it go by as something that never happened. "Thanks for the lecture Professor. Can we please get back to the real reason why you are here?" remarks Phantom cynical, but he knows in the back of his head that every single Dagon said is true.
Dagon turns around and points at Krystal again. "I'm here to collect her body."
"Give me one reason why I would permit that."
"Because you can't kill me. And I will snap your neck in an instant if you don't hand her over."
"Go ahead then. It's not like I've anything to live for now."
"Now don't speak like that Phantom."
A ham-fisted attempt to make Phantom feel a bit better. Empathy is not his strongest point but luckily he never needed it. Not even in this moment, where that seems like the only option. Instead, Dagon turns to an object. It's a white orb he gets out of his jacket pocket. He had the orb in his possession for a while since his friend gave it to him. The jacket he just found randomly lying on the street. Light blood splatter on the inside suggests someone else wore it before him, but didn't survive a deadly encounter.
Turning away from Phantom, who slowly collapses on his knees, face-first into the side of the mattress, weeping once more, Dagon holds the white orb into the light of fires. Right in front of his face. But when he looks through it, no orange, reddish light passes through. A thick, very compressed, fog-like vapor is stopping anything other than pure light to come through. That what is not really a color. It proves that it's the real orb, not a knock-off. With that in his mind, he turns back to Phantom.
"I know a way. A way to make sure the both of us get what they want." Other than what sounds like a muffled growl, no other reaction is coming from the Arctic fox. "Not impressed? What if I would say you can see her again?"
A chill runs down his spine when his otherwise downed ears catch the proposal. A bit awkward, Phantom rises from his whining and stands erect. Looking like a meth addict, with spit around his lips and tears dried up on his cheeks. With some unnecessary cursing to take the focus of his new look, he wipes his own face clean and "politely" asks Dagon to repeat himself.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
"If you wanted to see her again."
"Y-you mean that... you can resurrect her?"
Dagon sees this more as an insult rather than a compliment. If someone could resurrect anyone from what nature intended to be dead, he or she would be the most powerful being in the universe. That Dagon knows, because he can't do that yet. For the rest, he's capable of anything else. So naming the only thing he can't do, isn't well received.
"No..." he says somewhat restrained and very cold. "... but I can make sure that you two come together again."
The astonishing on Phantom's face turns into the happiest man on the planet. But instead of showing too much of that, he keeps it cool. "You... are kidding me right?"
"I'm not joking about it. I never do when I want something."
"Huh? What do you mean... you want something?" inquires Phantom, already seeing some unforeseen consequences to this.
Dagon chuckles dark as he crosses his arms. "Did you honestly think that I would just grant you a wish? I'm not a genie. If you want something, you'll have to give something in return."
"And what might that be?"
"Your suspicious tone lets me know that you already have the answer to that. Your soul of course." Dagon approaches Krystal with the orb in plain sight, clenched in his right hand. "We already have hers." he states as the orb seems to glow faintly the closer it gets to Krystal's body. "And since we had a place in the fire with her still empty, we figured you could be the perfect candidate for that."
Phantom can't believe he's actually listening to Dagon. This guy could be uttering nonsense and be nothing but a delirious idiot that pretends to be someone he's not. And as a matter of fact, he's standing too close to Krystal according to him.
"What are the conditions?" asks Phantom out of the blue, surprising Dagon a bit.
"Hm?"
"The conditions. You said that you needed my soul if I wanted to see her again?" Dagon nods calm. "I bet you have backwards and backstabbing conditions on that. So what are they so I can at least prepare myself for them when they show up."
I have him. I don't know if he does it because he wants to see Krystal again or just because he wants to prove something to himself or me. Do I even care? I'm getting what I want and that's all I need. "Naturally. But they are not as numeric as some other wishes from mortals I have seen. This one includes only one, a very big one."
"Name it." states Phantom strong, almost ordering Dagon.
Obviously unimpressed, Dagon looks him right in the eye. "Krystal is no longer with us. It's hard living without a soul. I can barely imagine." he comments slightly ironic. "Her body continued to live on for three days before it stopped functioning. Meanwhile, we've been providing her soul with a very welcome place to stay."
Dagon shows Phantom the orb, wanting him to look deep into it and focus thoroughly. As Phantom unconsciously does so, the fog inside pulls away to show a much younger Krystal lying in bed. The room is pretty big and royally decorated. Everything points at her being a spoiled brat. The bed is a turn-down however, as everything looks dirty and wrinkled there. The blanket is barely on the bed, her pillow looks torn and Krystal herself isn't looking the best either. Bathing in sweat, one might say she's experiencing a horrific nightmare, but the smile on her face tells otherwise. Someone had a naughty night.
"What did you do to her?" inquires Phantom accusing.
"Nothing that I could have prevented. Or wanted to prevent." he states a bit perverted. "Krystal is in a place called home. Her home. Cerinia. Or at least, that's what I've created after I was handed this orb."
"You say you remade her homeworld in that little orb?"
"It does fill up a hand so it isn't that small. But yes, I've managed to recreate Cerinia in this orb. I've created a different realm for her to thrive in. Younger but still Krystal."
"Her soul is in that orb. So... you're planning to put me inside that world as well?"
"Once I have your soul yes."
"Then I agree." he says without really thinking it through.
Dagon notices this. "Don't go too fast Phantom. Not that I really care, but "Phantom" as a person she knows doesn't exist in this world. So I can't put you as yourself in here."
"As someone else I can. Can't you remove someone from that reality and implement me?"
Dagon laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. "You think this is a computer code? Like I can reprogram it? No one can. Once it runs, no one can rewrite it. If anyone could have, don't you think they already did that? With all the destruction, hatred, plagues, poverty going on before Hell rose up?"
"Valid point." hands Phantom to him.
"Now... I cannot put you as yourself in there. But as someone else... that is still possible."
"S-someone else?" says Phantom confused. "You mean I switch bodies with someone else."
Dagon nods. A hand gesture over the orb makes the fog deform. It begins to form a head of someone. It's definitely male, he can see that by looking at the more sturdy formation and the jawline. Nothing but an uncolored 3D-picture but as color flows in, he can see a large scar on the muzzle, running all the way to his forehead. Around his left eye, he has a large scald and fuzzy coal-black hair covers the other eye. It's a grey wolf.
"May I introduce you to Sciltch. A stranger that wandered into Krystal's kingdom unannounced and was adopted by her royal highness herself to be a slave/fuckbuddy/friend. Over the years however, the longer they spend together, they got closer and closer. Mister Lovejoy here had a crush on her ever since and Krystal only since a short time. But she doesn't wanna admit it."
Phantom sniggers slightly and a bit inappropriate. He's nervous. "Sounds like Krystal alright."
"Glad we agree. Now, Sciltch is about to find out that Krystal is suffering from a disease nicknamed "Sleeping Beauty." It's a very simple concept; you sleep until you die. But Krystal has a mild variant. She will sleep for only six days. Sciltch, in my book, will take care of her every waking hour until she wakes up. It sounds like pleasant and fun." Sciltch's head vaporizes into fog again. "But do you agree on becoming him?"
Phantom doesn't need long to figure that one out. He takes a look at the left pocket of his trench coat. The one he has been wearing for three days straight and starts to smell a bit. In that particular pocket, his phone is sitting there, idle for what felt like ages. At these kind of moments, Adonis would call with extra info or a new lead that might propel him forward. But what hasn't happened three days ago, will not happen now. Especially... since he saw the bullet pass by his cheek hit Adonis right in the forehead. He has no one... not even his partner anymore.
"I would like nothing more." replies Phantom as he looks away from the pocket, right into Dagon's eyes to support his seriousness about it.
"You will not have many memories of who you were as Phantom. You can still perceive as but not respond as. Do you understand that?"
"It sounds like a medical experiment all of the sudden." jokes Phantom still a bit unsettled.
"It is. This is new ground for me. But I know what I'm doing. You can trust me."
"Uuugh..." grumbles Phantom. "I'm too focused on dying already so let's get this over with shall we?" He takes off his trench coat, dropping it on the floor. His RPK is revealed, being held ready just in case. The finger slides of the trigger as the weapon itself slides off Phantom's shoulder along with his coat. It makes a faint thud it lands on the coat.
"So how is this gonna work? You... rip it out?"
A snigger is his answer. "Questions and inquiring, is that all you are?" answers Dagon once more degenerating. "I could do that. But I prefer it more personal." He lets his index finger, with a very sharp claw run across his throat, scraping the top layer of the skin off. "I rip out a piece of your throat and suck it out through the bloodstream. I'm sure nothing is wrong with a drink alongside my snack right?"
"I-I guess not..."
"Now... do you agree? I need to know for sure."
Phantom bows his head, mentally preparing himself. "Yes. I agree. Take my soul; I don't care about it without her. Or anyone I cared about."
"Tilt up your chin then."
Phantom does as asked. An eager, slightly perished look appears on Dagon's face. He approaches Phantom, who just tries to relax and think about anything more positive than this. The sight of Krystal for example. Maybe through the eyes of someone else, but that's only a small, insignificant detail. However, when Dagon places his left hand on his shoulder and his right hand on his chin to keep his head up, Phantom has second thoughts. Not in the manner of aborting it, but rather the how.
"Is this gonna hurt?" he asks, that being his only complaint.
"For only a second. After that, you'll feel nothing no more." Dagon checks if Phantom understood. He did. "Good."
Dagon proceeds and opens his mouth wide. Phantom can feel his breath on his skin. It sends chills down his spine. It feels moist and warm. Like a very damp sauna that makes your sweat if you even think about it. The chills multiply, growing in number exponentially as Dagon's teeth meet with the skin.
From there, it begins to feel like Dagon described. A sharp pain is felt the moment Dagon's teeth puncture his skin. Blood flows out and he feels it being torn off. But it doesn't come much further than that. It just stops. Everything stops. In a fraction, what the blink of an eye wouldn't even come close to, all turns black.
But light comes back like a smack to the head out of nowhere. His body recoils and jitters in all directions, as if it doesn't accept what is inside. This weird reaction that brings up gagging for some reason ceases very soon and all returns to normal.
However, when he looks at his paws, he notices that they are grey. His vision is blocked as black hair hangs before one of his eyes. Normally, he would wipe them away or straight up cut them off. But he has no problems with it whatsoever. He's fine with it. And his paws too.
It worked. I'm Sciltch. Krystal's wolf lover. Or whatever Dagon said he was. Let's see... this Sciltch guy was about to find out that Krystal was suffering from some sleep disease. In other words, my chance to finally nurse her back to life. Something that I couldn't do before, I can do now. And then... if all goes right... she's mine. But... my memory begins to fade. I'm becoming him more and more. Dagon warned me for this... I have to write it down.
"She'll be mine. What I didn't admit before, I will do now. Krystal is the best thing that ever happened to me. Since I met her, my world has become something where the sun shines instead of haze that thrives. But as time progresses on, I could forget I ever lived by these words. Therefore, I write this down. So I may never forget this..."
His writing his own name under the note, is impossible. For he already forget he was ever that person. Sciltch walks away from the note and goes to the dressing room. His maid outfit is waiting for him. Early morning means tea for his Princess. Another day is about to go by again.
Ending 3: A place called home