AN: This chapter was tough. I hope you enjoy! Happy New Year! Thanks for sticking around!

Watered Down

November 17, 13,013 - Afternoon

When was the last time they'd looked in a reflective surface? Really looked?

It'd been… too long.

True, they'd looked in wavering, murky waters. Distorted reflections that gave no definition to their features. But when was the last time they'd looked into a mirror, or something similarly clear?

Stomach sufficiently emptied, even if it was trying to twist itself into a complicated knot, the girls flushed the toilet and crawled back to the sink. Up to the mirror. Eyes searching. Hoping. Praying.

Maybe it was a smear of dirt.

Silly if that's what they panicked over. A smudge of dirt that just happened to look like a mark.

Fingers dripping with water they didn't realize they'd started to run, they rubbed at their forehead. Terrified when it did not fade.

No…

No no no no no!

They washed harder.

Scrubbing.

Clawing.

Digging.

Tearing out of the bathroom with a litany of apologies. Tumbling down the stairs and slapping into the hard floor in their bid to escape. When Dimitri and Christina trailed down and towards the door, Rhea and Krista were quick to apologize. Attempting to reassure them that their reaction was nothing against them.

"We're sorry if we pushed you too far," Dimitri murmured as he unlocked the deadbolt. Appearing genuinely apologetic.

"Are you certain you're okay?" asked Christina. Hand gingerly pushing theirs down. And slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal and not a woman they'd been ready to take to bed, she offered the books they'd forgotten in their haste.

"No. Well… yes. We'll be fine!" A slightly hysterical laugh erupted from their throat unbidden. "Thank you both! For the lovely day and the books! Bye!"

And they were gone, tearing down the street, heart pounding against their ribcage as they ran. Unburdened and unhindered by anything they collided with.

Ran blindly until they didn't know where they were.

Until they were tumbling into the mud surrounding a small puddle. Books, once again, forgotten as they distantly eyed the murky water.

There was a chance they'd panicked over nothing. A shadow, of all things.

Kneeling there, not yet able to stare into the water directly, muddy and soaked through, they prayed.

The chill snaked its way down his spine for the second time that day. This was something that was not brought about by a lack of desire. And while this feeling was not entirely like before, it was something that invoked unease. Something that had him searching for Rhea and Krista immediately.

It pulled the Hunter from his thoughts as he left the comforts of the tavern bed. Erembour grumbling sleepily as he was rolled from one side to the other, settling at D's out-turned hand as the man hopped out the window.

They were not where he'd last seen them.

They were not in town at all.

The Hunter could interrogate the couple they'd been with, but he knew they were just as unaware of their whereabouts. And once outside, their ignorance was made even more apparent as they glanced between themselves and the path the girls had taken. Leaving behind a veritable path of destruction, with floundering people and upturned carts.

The couple looked understandably worried.

The rest of the town looked understandably irritated.

With a sigh that passed for more of a deep breath, he followed the path laid for him.

He did not like the path laid for him.

There were very few moments that he could say the girls were inconsolable. Or hysterical.

In the cave, coming out of their first memory.

Waking from their self-inflicted psychological attack.

Now, it wasn't much better.

They sat, facing a tree with their head tucked down. Forehead to bark, chin to chest. Eyes watery and dull as they stared blankly. Barely breathing. Bloody. Books discarded and muddy before he tucked them into his coat.

For a moment, he was concerned Rhea and Krista had a relapse in their mood. That he would check their wrists and find them chewed open. Or slit… now that they had access to… not their weapons, but sharp instruments of mass mutilation, nonetheless.

Shame that he'd been unable to find their daggers in the facility.

It was with no small amount of relief that he noted they were not dying. But they did not look far off with their skin pale and tacky; sunken and bruised. Smelling of salt and bile and blood.

"Rhea. Krista."

Nothing aside from the barest twitch of their eyes that was more aptly described as a blink. He softly conveyed his intent to pick them up and return to the tavern, anyways, before gathering the small body into his arms.

Still, there was not much of a reaction. Their fingers dipped beneath his coat to fondle the fabric. Soft from being well-worn, if not a little harried. But aside?

Nothing.

And so, it stayed that way for his trek, palms and fronds doing little to protect them from the rain as they trailed along the river.

Only at the edge of the town did they finally come alive, gently pushing on his arm to drop to the ground. Speaking lowly as they trudged along the gravel road, "Sorry, D. We're…"

He turned to them just as their lips trembled and wobbled, voice hitching.

They looked… tormented. As if too many troubles were unloaded upon them. The weight of the world suddenly pulling upon their shoulders. A look that did not suit them one bit and was eerily similar to one they'd worn in the facility.

Their hands stretched up towards his face, and he allowed them to cup his cheeks and pull him closer.

It was something he felt this time. Something that pulled and tugged in the most intrusive yet gentle way as their pupils constricted into catlike slits. Eyes red and swollen with emotion as they sniffled and fought back tears, determined to look.

"It's not there. It's not there."

"The mark?"

"It was gone… maybe before we looked through the logs Mama left. Maybe before we ever met Laun." Now, they smoothed their thumbs across his brow almost reverently, right where the mark might lie. "And now… now it is gone."

"What happened?" he asked gently as he gingerly lowered their hands. "If you knew then, why does it upset you now?"

"Because, if we can't see it, is it because things have changed so much that you crapping out is no longer a possibility?" They clutched tight at his fingers, eyes pinching oddly as they spat,"Or is it because you can't see what you won't be around for?!"

The Hunter blinked unusually hard as everything made sense. Eyeing the mostly healed wound upon their forehead in a new light.

It was no wonder they were so distraught.

Inside the tavern, they recounted everything that'd happened. The uncomfortable sense that they shouldn't be where they were. The closeness of it all. The disgust at being pressed against. But how they'd wanted it and had nothing against the couple, so why the Hell couldn't they stop feeling sick?

How they'd gone to the bathroom for just a moment to collect themselves.

And now, the girls sat upon the sink in their rented room, naked as a picked bird. Clean. Staring into the mirror with their catlike gaze.

He couldn't see the mark. However, if he could view and change the Records, he should have the ability to learn.

"It's changing," they eventually murmured, effortlessly drawing his attention back to them. "Something about us telling you made it dim."

And if such a simple thing could change such a monumental thing, attempting to see should help. Perhaps even manipulate it on the fly.

Decidedly, he pushed away from his spot against the wall and stood at their back. Eyes fixated upon their forehead as he asked with his left hand up, "May I?"

"Sure."

They expected him to simply look into their minds. See what they'd seen. But now, as his hand covered their eyes, they felt their Souls lurch. Fingers grasping at empty air. Copper on their tongues as information was gleaned from a recess the girls didn't recognize or understand.

Something they'd somehow managed to tap into without any conscious effort.

Something they were quickly realizing should have taken them so much more time to utilize, with a ton of practice.

"Why?" they asked, voice warbling like a babe's.

Why in the name of the Gods would he want to see?!

But he did not answer, eyes staring ahead unseeingly. Separating strings that bound the world together. The Heavens. The ground. The girls.

A nexus of sorts, with too many connections to easily discern what he needed immediately.

He tasted blood.

Or perhaps, the girls could taste blood?

Maybe both.

Perhaps neither.

It was painful.

The threads burned, but not in the physical sense.

It was pain, all the same.

Deep and wrenching, and he wondered if it didn't hurt them every time they subconsciously pulled at these to see. Something they'd learned to ignore or no longer felt.

"D?"

Finally, a single string stood amongst the rest. A beacon that made him wonder how he'd missed it before, its iridescent sheen piercing his eyes. And as he grasped it, he felt he was spiraling into the void. Spinning, wildly, out of control. An impossible bottom rushing to greet him.

His eyes slid upwards, glimmering, pupils slit.

It was there. A dull, glowing mark that was almost circular. Edges blurred and wavering as it gently churned.

Striking.

Terrifyingly beautiful.

He could understand, now, why they acted so reverently with them. As if a simple touch might destabilize the mark. Or change how fast Death would come for them.

Perhaps the girls could not alter people's chances of death when they were small and ostracized for their lineage. Unable to sway their targets' opinions or cure sickness. But now?

They were more than capable of influencing their own path. And perhaps those small decisions would lead to small reactions, that would chain together into a large change.

If, and this was a big if, but if he could sway the mark, he could plan a course of action.

He released the threads, watching it dim and disappear. Waited a moment. And reached for it once more. Pleased when he was able to easily wrap his metaphorical fingers about them and tug.

Good. They would leave the next day, after the girls had time to rest.

Oh, how he was thankful for his grip upon the threads as their mark flared with renewed vigor. Strings writhing about like ill-tamed beasts.

"Why is it glowing more?!"

Fascinating.

A simple, innocent decision that was doing them little favor.

Then, they would leave immediately.

"Now, it's dulling. What the Hell?"

They'd leave in ten minutes.

A very subtle change for the worse. One so slight, the girls didn't notice to comment.

"Dress," he commanded, already on the move into the bedroom. Allowing the connection to the girl's thread to dissipate as he gathered their items.

He would change their course as they went, as he originally planned. But it was a far more concrete idea now that he knew it would work.

The bags were stuffed and on his shoulder before the girls could even scamper down from the counter proper. Their body twisting and jerking in odd ways as they struggled to pull their clothing over their still-damp skin.

They wouldn't lie. Now, when they felt at their most vulnerable, they missed their ratty armor terribly. Something they'd not noticed missing until well after they'd left the facility. Which was indubitably a shame.

It hadn't been great armor, but it had been something that gave some modicum of protection.

So, they thrashed and flailed and hissed their discontent, but dared not complain about the command to dress when they knew that the Hunter was in a rush for a reason. The fluctuating mark, most likely.

Their boots (why were those left intact again?!) were only part way on when they started hopping out the door, Erembour hot on their heels.

The Demon had been quiet (more than typical) as everything was explained, sitting pensively upon the bed until then.

If he were honest, he wasn't quite sure what to think. What to feel.

His, dare he say home, had been with these two… three entities for a year.

At the time, being told the Hunter might die had been a bit of a shock.

Honestly, the Hunter?

No way in Hell.

And sure as shit, he'd come close numerous times, but never did he stay dead.

But that haunted look that'd taken hold of the girls' eyes, and then the Hunter's?

It told him more than he'd like to know. Brought light upon the warning he'd seen in the facility, even if they were unconnected.

It was unsettling.

… He could still leave…

Be rid of the attachment, never feel anything when the inevitable happened.

But… he couldn't bring himself to.

They were his, faults and all. And he'd be Blessed before he'd pull his claws from them. So, even if his help did not amount to much, he would.

He would bite and claw and make damn well certain he tried his very best to keep them from an untimely demise.

Their group certainly garnered a few stares as they tore through the town for the second time that day. Horse bursting out of its stall in the stables as the Hunter released a shrill whistle. Without a pause in his step, he was slinging the pad and saddle across the beast's back.

Would they not stop to strap the saddle down?

No, they did, but only once they were out of the town.

"D?"

The man did not respond as he hefted the panting girls into the saddle and called for Erembour, something the Demon welcomed as he curled up the man's arm.

Things felt hectic.

Hopefully, he could store more energy than typical while they had the time.

D kept a watchful eye upon the strands as they navigated rainforest, transcendent grasp firmly curled about the shiny thing. Attempting to detect changes through the string alone.

It was little, at first. Small tremors and vibrations that barely registered. But gradually, as they allowed the horse a moment of respite along the water's edge, he came to find the meaning in each movement.

Yes, a violent wriggle certainly indicated some larger changes, but it was almost as if each minute movement sent some sort of hoodoo into the Ether that somehow affected the encroaching guillotine hovering about the girls' neck.

It did puzzle the mind to wonder why the mark came alive as the end came near but…

It didn't much matter.

What did matter was the curling little wriggle it did about his grasp. Throbbing like a life-filled artery under stress. Bulging as it force-fed the mark its ichor.

Damn.

With a careful tug, he pulled them back to the horse with the intent of riding through the night to the North.

No…

The East?

It writhed, so that was a big no.

To the West?

Lord above. All roads lead to destruction, because Southward would elicit a writhe, as well.

To the Sea?

Yes. It would certainly extend their time and spare the horse… to an extent.

They needed to find a port. A boat.

"Where are we going, D?"

Briefly, he contemplated telling them. But as the mark flared, he merely shook his head one time. Their eyes turning down with dejected understanding. Allowing feelings of hopelessness and exhaustion take hold.

Deep down, these were very real emotions. But if they hammed it up a bit? Who would know besides them?

Their situation was not an ideal one. Not in any sense of the word. But without complaint, the girls pulled themselves into the saddle and closed their eyes. Silently awaiting whatever the Hunter decided.

"Perhaps it would be best to continue North?" Hand suggested, to which D softly agreed.

Something they nodded their assent to before stating, "We're… really tired. Can we sleep for a bit?"

The saddle shifted and the horse readjusted its stance as he answered with a soft, "Of course," and they were quickly slumping back into his hold. Comforted as his left hand carded through their curls and came to rest upon their temple.

They wanted more.

Wanted a distraction from all the crap being thrown at them.

Yearned for his fingers to curl about their throat and caress.

But at his whispered command, all faded to black.

The threads were stilled, barely alit as he nosed the horse towards the setting sun and supported the sleeping girls.

The man of fire, Ignis, likely still had a hold on their Soul despite their fortifications. Likely only enough to glean intent or loose information, but enough to hinder his efforts to keep them alive. And the only way to keep him unaware?

Have them unaware.

There was nothing ideal about this.

Not one bit.

They were floating.

Warm.

Wet.

Happy.

Fingers digging into soft, loamy soils that heaved and rolled like water. Not bound by grass roots or littered with hard debris.

Just moist ground.

Softly cradling.

Gently rocking.

Singing softly in a deep timber that had them wonder if it wasn't D.

"Come to me, my darling."

Anger flared, breaking the tranquil atmosphere as the soil roiled and boiled. And, seemingly in response, the crooning grew louder. Wrapping about their body and mind like a warm blanket.

"You belong with me!"

Again, the volume of the song increased until everything fell to the wayside. The voice that angered them and held no indicator for whether it was male or female fading into a distant murmur.

They felt loved as a person.

Possessed like a doll.

Despite their agitation, they settled into the calming hum. Willing to let their worries melt away for just a bit longer.

Time held no meaning as they drifted in the sea of fertile soil.

The singing came in waves. A soothing tune that only changed in response to the voice.

There to drown it out.

Soft to ease them down.

Yet they felt detached.

How long had they been in this space?

An hour?

A day?

A week?

The simple thoughts invaded like maggots in carrion. Fear pricking at their eyes and nose as they harkened back to their stint in the lab. Time meaningless.

Darkness all consuming.

Heart racing as they stared into the void.

They'd not had a chance to find a good spot for their child's dust, and now they were looking at the possibility of their own.

They would die.

It was not an if.

Just a matter of when.

But… they'd hoped they could find that someplace nice before then.

Instead, they would die and be shoved into the nearest available pit.

Not that they held it against D. It wouldn't be his fault. It was just unfortunate.

Depressing.

What good were they?

They did nothing aside from sit on the sidelines. Idle and useless.

A knot on a log. A veritable detriment to the overall integrity of any plank it marred. Little more than a pretty aberration.

Were they even that?

Genetically wrecked and barely holding themselves together.

"I will give you purpose."

Fuck their purpose.

And there that song came. Sweeping over them like a gentle wave. Filling them with warmth from their fingers to their toes. Inside and out.

They yearned.

Hardly the time for cuddles, was it?

Or… perhaps it was the perfect time.

You only live once.

The dream surrounding them heaved, dumping them unceremoniously back into the waking world. For a moment, they could do nothing more than stare blearily up at the Hunter. Swallowing thickly as cool liquid coated their tongue.

D was guiding rainwater past their lips. Washing away the taste of stale blood as he eyed them in subdued surprise.

Perhaps he'd not meant for them to awaken.

Then…

Where were they?

Before their eyes could scan their surroundings for any discernible features, they pinched their lids closed. Terrified.

"Why'd we wake up?" they rasped, throat feeling dry and sore despite the liquid they'd just ingested.

"I'm not certain."

Well… that didn't fill them with confidence. But it was not wholly disheartening as their bladder twanged. Perhaps not enough to have been pressing, but a plausible answer.

They twisted around and heaved themselves upwards with a groan. Body stiff and slow to move, even once their feet hit the ground.

Eyes still tightly closed, they reached out for the man. Blindly grasping. Afraid that all would fall to ruin should they mistakenly peek. But without saying as much, D was there. Hands carefully winding what felt like his scarf about their eyes.

It was a comfort. A great weight that was lifted off their shoulders.

"Do you need to–."

"Pee?" they interrupted, bouncing on the balls of their feet. "Yes!"

With a gentle hand, he guided them… somewhere. Somewhere where the grasses and bushes rustled, and shade cooled their flesh. After a moment of no movement, they reached outwards. Identifying just how out of sight they were.

Only once they were certain did they shimmy down their clothes and squat.

Peed.

Waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Fuckin' hate drip-drying…"

"Could always use a leaf!" Hand helpfully supplied. "Or drag yourself through the dirt!"

"We think not! That's just askin' for a bit no-no square!"

There was a rustle before D was telling them to extend a hand, and a rough cloth was pressed into their open palm.

"… are you sure?"

"It can be washed."

With a soft huff, they agreed and waited a short moment before wiping themselves dry. Distinctly uncomfortable with their circumstances, but willing to blindly follow the man in black's plan. Their only wish was for all things to work out.

D's plan.

Stopping the resurrection of the Sacred Ancestor.

Staying alive would be nice, as well.

They shouldn't complain.

They were alive and well. Fed and hydrated. Perhaps not loved, but cared for in a way that made their heart flutter. Or there was something wrong with the organ keeping them alive.

Probably not.

But… maybe they were slowly dying and whatever they were running from was just expediting the process?

Nah.

That was a stupid idea.

"D," they started, stumbling out of their impromptu toilet. "Should we go back to sleep?"

His hand curled around their bicep, gingerly guiding them to the horse. "I am not certain you will be able to." At their questioning hum, he lifted them into the saddle and continued. "There is no point in beating around the bush."

"Were you beating them before?"

Silence.

"Sorry. Bad joke. Carry on."

Another beat of silence, wherein a soft sigh drifted from his lips.

"The one observing through your Soul likely won't allow you to."

"Fuck that shit!" they exploded, fingers digging into their thighs. "Watch us!"

He watched them, alright.

Watched them shuffle and huff angrily.

There was no sleeping to be had.

No amount of deep breathing, pets, or whispered commands put them out of their misery.

Not to say they didn't enjoy the petting and soft words.

But it did little for their predicament aside from calm them. Instead, they kept their mind bereft of thought. Thinking only on the gratification gleaned from his touch.

Perhaps they could drive the entity away with some sickly-sweet thoughts.

Entity, pfft.

It was Ignis. They knew this without a doubt in their minds. But it did little to help the situation. Perhaps he should remain a nameless entity? Undeserving that recognition.

He deserved nothing.

Not his name.

Not their thoughts.

Nothing.

No life.

Not even their ire.

Yet here they were. Chest feeling hot and tight, skin twitching in agitation.

But nothing could make them feel better. Could erase the manipulation. The disgust they experienced anytime the fiery bastard entered their mind.

It was because of him that they were carrying around their child's ashes. If he had let Leonel be, they could have… been happy.

For just a bit longer.

Or perhaps they should have been more aware of shit. More capable. Quicker to catch on to Leonel's behavior.

But how could they have known?

There was no way. Not unless they'd had the forethought to do their weird premonition shit.

Fingers carded through their curls. Pulling them back to the present with a few gentle tugs that made their scalp crawl pleasantly.

Right. Anger would do nothing for them.

With the grounding motion came a wave of calmness that they readily accepted. There was no sense in working themselves into an apoplectic fit, swelling and crushing the beast that carried them.

They would cry.

Smooshed horse.

Flat horse.

Pancake on the ground.

Oil puddle.

Blood puddle.

Nur nur nur.

With a long-suffering sigh, they shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. Upset that they'd managed to reach that realm of in-betweens. Where thoughts muddle and confuse. But did they sleep?

Pfft.

True, they did not need sleep. But it was a good escape for their curious mind.

A good way to keep them from noting changes in direction and smells. Sounds.

Birds.

Creatures.

Fingers trailing through their hair.

Plumes of smoke choking the air.

Pain in their chest.

Eyes in the skies.

Salted dirt on their tongues.

"Fuck."

The hissed exclamation had them snapping out of whatever trance they'd entered. Torn between alarm and… whatever caused their belly to clench and warm. Heart beating out a familiar rhythm that urged them upwards.

There was a burst of rancid air, and arms that were entirely too warm curled about their midriff.

"D?"

The horse, they realized belatedly, was galloping. Hooves tearing up the ground at an almost frantic pace. And those hot fingers were working at the knot in the Hunter's scarf. No doubt fighting their curls amidst the wind.

"Erembour?"

His voice barely carried over the heavy huffing of the horse as he said haltingly, "… Bird bitch… found us."

It was astounding that, for just a moment, they were more concerned with why he spoke in such a way. The fact that Plumacera had somehow spotted them less important than Erembour's degraded ability for speech.

Shit, how long had they been out?!

But it all seemed insubstantial. Insignificant as the scarf slipped from their eyes and revealed the most breathtaking view they'd ever beheld. Moonlight illuminating gentle waves along a rocky cliff.

The sea.

Their first glimpse.

And they knew where they wanted to spread their child's ashes.

Where… they wanted to be.

Not for a long time, however. Not if they could help it.

The trees swept them back into darkness as they pressed onward, their eyes scanning for any abnormalities. They held no hope for Plumacera deciding to travel alone. She'd brought along a small army knowing they'd be incapacitated, so why would this be the exception?

The horse suddenly lurched forward with a shrill whinny, wide eyes rolling in fear as beast and rider alike tipped down towards the forest floor. Time slowing to a crawl.

Before them, concealed amongst the leaflitter and grasses, hid palm-sized discs the color of the earth. Sporting a singular light, dim even in the shadows.

Mines.

Hundreds.

Horse.

Erembour.

Them.

Their eyes were already jerking about, mind running and floundering as they attempted to secure the horse's survival through any means necessary. But every way their mind turned landed them in self-sacrifice and failure.

They could see no plausible way to prevent what was to come. Not without completely ruining the Hunter's efforts to keep them alive.

And with little else to do, they pushed at the shifting Demon. Watching with a detached sense of wonder as his body shrank and disfigured itself into a small bird. Too terrified to truly appreciate the morbid spectacle as their body twisted away from the incoming impact. Fingers curling about the nearest branches.

With no small amount of remorse, they propelled themselves upwards. Eyes pinched closed as the mine began to hiss. Ground swelling.

The horse's shrill whinny ended abruptly as the mine exploded, their flesh stinging and burning as blood and shrapnel alike pelted their flesh.

Meat of their body.

For a moment, it was all they could do to simply exist. Ears ringing in that horribly familiar way as the world heaved to and fro. Never mind the lifeless way their body slapped into the ground.

They'd managed to escape a large portion of the blast, but not enough to come out unscathed. Just enough to not lose a limb. Or two. Maybe.

With a soft whine, they craned their neck around to take a quick assessment of their body.

Huh.

They were missing a limb.

Could they just… stick it back on?

Like a doll's leg?

Sure, it was a bit fleshier and more chewed up, but same concept?

Good thing the blast had pushed them and their leg away from the remaining mines. Something they spied a few feet to their left.

Heh.

Feet.

Alright.

They could make that work.

Mechanically, their arms pushed against the ground. Prickling leaves crunching beneath their palms. And, huh… why was their hand sans a finger?

Oh, nope.

There it was. Bent back and flush with their hand.

Hmm…

Leg first, finger later.

Their vision darkened and shrank to a point as they moved forward, dirt darkened by the blood pulsing out their stump.

Everything hurt… distantly. But to an extent, they weren't sure this wasn't just a bad dream. A vivid hallucination that would dissipate with their next breath or blink.

It felt reasonably real.

Nah.

There was no way they were covered in offal with their leg a separate entity from their body.

Perhaps their prophetic dreams were finally warping reality, and this was someone else. Like the girl in the mud Gif T. Ig produced.

It wasn't them.

It couldn't be.

Cool shadows enveloped them, something they knew only by sight as inky darkness crept along their extended arms. Stretching out to gather up the severed limb.

Once it was in their grasp, the shadows retreated. Darting off to collide with… something they could not see. Not that it mattered. If they died, they'd simply awaken. So, with a sigh, they rolled onto one side and smooshed the two bleeding nubs together.

Wait…

Might help if it was facing the correct direction.

Maybe they could just…

With a wrench, they twisted it about and settled it into a more suitable position.

Cool.

Now they could fix the finger and move on, because while they couldn't believe everything was happening… they had to act under the pretense that it was not a fever dream.

Hmm…

Was their finger supposed to be so pale?

Crack!

And it was as they twisted the finger into its normal position that they were thrown forward, pain unlike anything they'd ever experienced wracking their body. Paralyzing muscles and scrambling thoughts.

Honestly, they thought they'd felt it all.

Evisceration.

Impalement.

Broken bones.

Being shot.

The fucking needles and the hole in their face and throat.

All the things that had occurred in their year with the Hunter, and this was it.

They were going to fucking die like an idiot because they couldn't get their shit together.

Because they were worthless.

But were they?

They'd survived thus far, with and without help. They just needed to pull it together.

You've relied upon the Hunter at every turn. What makes now so different?

They could try.

He'd had enough faith in them to wake them. Now they just needed to do what he believed they could.

Before they could think of anything better, or even consider otherwise, their hands were tearing into the creature upon their back. A creature that shrieked and wailed much like a person. But the pain was abating. Fading into a dull throb as, with a sickeningly wet crack, the creature's head flew from their grasp and bounced against a tree.

With a thud and rustle of leaves, the body followed. Rolling to a stop beside the horse's remains.

A gruesome sight to behold.

A stark reminder that they needed to move.

The girls scaled the nearest tree. Bark scraping at their tender flesh. Back and leg burning and aching.

It was a wonder the limb was even working. Perhaps not phenomenally, but they were in the trees. Up where the smell of rancid flesh was strongest and they could plan their route.

It did not bode well for them.

There were just… so many. Creatures and Vampires alike swarming the area, like ants to an intruder. Hunting out any trace of the girls and their comrades.

And in the distance, opposite from where they'd ridden towards, they could see trees fall. Flickering flashes of silver cutting through the darkness of night. The explosions that followed like crashes of thunder painful to their ears.

They dug their fingers into their eyes.

They could not simply hide away in the treetops. And unlike in their past when they hid in the shelving of their parent's home, they could fight. Could use the knowledge they'd gained.

They would not hide.

Hell, they'd managed to keep up to some degree with the infamous Hunter! Something many did not take lightly!

Of course, they could not compare to him. Not even to many of his foes. But they…

They would try, damn it!

The lesser Vampire never knew what hit them as bare feet collided with their head. Skull and spine crumbling beneath the force of their pounce.

They did not want to kill.

But all things considered, it was kill or be killed.

They had to.

Quietly, quickly, they dug through the Vampire's clothes. Hunting out anything of use. Something they wished was an option with the now-obliterated horse, but they were honestly lucky they weren't impaled by any errant weapons or fragments of.

A hunting knife, better than the nothing they currently possessed.

As they stood, eyes scanning the surrounding foliage, a nearby explosion blew the top off a tree. Simultaneously showering the area in blazing wood and informing them that escaping in the trees was not a viable option.

There really was only one direction.

'Let's fuckin' go!'

It crashed over them like waves in a storm. Strength simultaneously abandoning and flooding their limbs. Body swelling and bones breaking until their feline body was darting through the trees.

Their yowls pierced the night. A warning and an announcement as creatures fell before them. Claws carving a bloody path through the cliffs.

Blood.

It choked the air.

Filled him with its cloying scent.

Still, he moved. Spilling more with each step.

Each flourish.

Felling foe, flora, and fauna alike.

The Hunter had faced plenty of powerful foes in his life. Many enemies at once.

But this… this was ridiculous.

It was just around midnight when the attack came, something he'd been attempting to avoid as the strings writhed and seared his grip.

The first to arrive, no less than a half-grand thralls, subservient beasts, and Vampires, had managed to surround and swarm the travelers. All guided by Plumacera, their eye in the sky. No number of abrupt directional changes had been enough, and their best chance for survival had been to continue on.

Then, he'd heard the screeching whinny.

The explosion that cut it short.

The battle cry that stilled the attackers for just the briefest of moments. A noise that was both terrifying and pride inducing and had his stomach twisting in…

He couldn't say.

There seemed to be no end.

Instead, they were coming to realize they did not possess the strength or stamina to continue as they were. Full tilt, even if that seemed to be the only way through the horde. Perhaps because they'd never been in such a dire situation.

They beat at restraints they'd never felt before, much like a frenetic bird desperate to escape its cage. Something neither could focus on long enough to remedy. But it was there.

Keeping them from… something.

But strain they did as they charged forward. Blood dripping from their open maw. Claws shredding through flesh and fur.

They kept going.

Limbs aching, breath too hot and heavy.

Another skull betwixt their jaws.

A neck underfoot.

Blistering shadows.

Vision dark.

Sweetbread for dinner.

Rancid wind.

Vision nonexistent.

Too much.

Too fast.

They couldn't…

A sharp punch to the gut sent them tumbling backwards.

Down.

Wind howling.

Down.

Salt in the air.

Down.

Somewhere, a rifle belched fire.

And terrified, Erembour rushed towards Krista and Rhea as they disappeared off the cliff. Body warping nigh uncontrollably. Attempting to shape a body of use to stop their descent.

He was too far!

Yet, shadows lashed out. Grasping for anything they could as he dove over the edge after them. Tendrils curling and nets forming as the girls twisted and clawed. Nails snapping and fingers breaking against the rocks. Eyes rolling blindly.

If he could just slow them a bit more!

Finally, one caught. Jerking them close to the near-vertical cliff with a sickening crunch.

But they were alive.

They labored with each breath, retractions pulling the skin around their chest tight. Wheezing and grunting. But damn it, he had them.

Inky blood tainted their skin as he gathered them into his hold, shadows cradling them gingerly.

He had them.

The Demon calmed, and from his back sprouted a multitude of limbs. Haired and spiked appendages that burrowed into the rocky cliff face.

He briefly considered returning to the top.

But there was no one below them.

But they would come looking.

But they had a head start.

Maybe some creatures would fall and perish.

Mind decided, he skittered along the cliff face. A journey that was by no means silent, each pounding step cracking and dislodging stone.

It did supply the desired effect, however.

Drawn by the noise, mindless drones tumbled over the cliff. Screaming and roaring as they plummeted towards the jagged rocks below.

Within the capsule of shadows, the girls rolled and groaned.

He was concerned for them. Everything happening seemed disproportioned, because he expected someone tough. Not a veritable army of fodder. To that point, he'd only spotted a few big boys. Two the Hunter dispatched, one that sat a little heavy in his belly.

Otherwise?

He had to wonder if all this was necessary. The girls were powerful in their own right, but it seemed like a copout. As if they wanted them dead but couldn't be bothered to do something a bit more tactical.

Or they really were just hoping to outlast and overwhelm.

With a huff, Erembour quieted his movements and continued on. Slinking through the darkness, hopefully under the radar of their enemies, he eventually pulled themselves over the ridge.

It was quiet.

Painfully so.

Still, he darted through the few trees and across the stretch of rocky grassland. As far as he could, as fast as he could. And far ahead of him, he could see the ruins of an old village. Crumbling, but it was cover. Better than simply skittering about under the light of the moon.

If they could hide out until dawn, that would take care of some of their attackers.

He hoped they could. For his sake and theirs.

They were dreaming.

Hell of a time for it.

But as they traversed the fabricated world, possibly a true Hellscape, they couldn't help but wonder how the others were faring. Postulate the reasons for their sudden blindness.

From their side came a burbling hiss, halting their trek across the hot stones. And while they wished to see who spoke, their head tipped down submissively.

"Where are you going, cur?"

"Job in the upper levels, Sir."

"Is that so?"

"Yessir."

There was a terse silence, and their hackles raised under the dubious scrutiny.

"And what of the orders regarding the changes today?"

"This is my final order before the change, Sir."

There was a hot puff of air across their neck and back. A blistering heat that had them stifling a whimper. But eventually, the voice growled, "Hurry it up, mongrel. And be back before the third fire."

"Of course, Sir."

A moment passed before they pressed on. Nails clacking as they moved.

Faster.

Running.

They had to be out before the third fire.

Had to be topside, where the others would not want to follow.

They would consider them a lost cause, knowing that being on the mortal plane would kill them eventually.

But they would rather die on their own terms than face the fate they'd suffer if they stayed.

Rhea and Krista snapped out of the dream.

Memory.

It had to be a memory.

Slowly, they looked around, more than thankful to have their eyesight back. And all they could see was the room in which they resided.

No Erembour.

Only weathered and cracked stone and warped wood.

A lump formed in their throat as they choked back an ugly, pitiful noise. Wanting to cry out for their companions.

They couldn't.

They had to be silent.

Slowly, they crept forward. Very human hands dragging through the dirt on the floor as they checked for loose boards. Inching towards the ajar door.

It was twilight, world painted in hues of purples and blues. And for a moment, they felt relief. They'd somehow survived until daybreak. Ninety percent help from their family. Ten percent them.

Wow, they sucked…

But there they were, alive.

For the moment…

The path they could see was barren, overgrown cobblestone that'd not been tread in many years. Past that, they could see a few more buildings. Some little more than heaps of stone and wood.

Shadow suddenly blocked their view.

Did they almost vomit on Erembour?

Who could say? But they certainly weren't about to admit that they'd come close.

Instead, they pressed against the wall. Taking a moment to calm themselves before whispering, "How is it looking out there?"

"… many fires. Vampires running. But still… too many."

"And D?"

A rough shudder shook his wolfish frame, momentarily looking haunted as he considered his words.

"… terrifying."

It was the best he could come up with, still able to see Hand belching fire and gale-force winds. The Hunter as he momentarily abandoned his sword to rip a few too-close enemies limb-from-limb. Haunting visage sinking into shadow until only fiery embers remained.

The aura exuded that damn near choked him out.

It was something he honestly could have lived without witnessing.

With a hum, they fell into silence, ears pricked for any noise that signaled danger.

The sun crept through the doorway.

The girls hated sitting idly by. Certain the Demon felt the same.

What could they do, though?

Any attempt to leave the abode ended in Erembour gnashing his teeth at them. Blocking the entrance.

They knew he was just trying to do as commanded. Keep them safe and alive. But they worried. Afraid that the numbers would prove to be too much for even D.

It was as they considered knocking out a wall to escape that a thrumming broke the silence. Together, they tensed. Attempting to pinpoint the source.

Together, they turned their eyes to the dilapidated ceiling.

Together, they feared the worst.

Somehow, they'd been found.

D faltered for the first time in hours, vermillion eyes snapping to the skies.

A mirrored vessel. Cannon dropping and swiveling.

In his grasp, the thread went still.

Everything hurt.

Every fucking thing.

His hair hurt.

But… he'd managed to drag them through the shadows just as the world erupted in flames.

Taking himself? Sure. Fine.

Taking a passenger?

It burned through the energy he'd managed to hang on to.

Beneath him, the girls moaned. Brows pinched in pain as they grimaced up at him. Thankful, but defeated as they rested in the shade of the trees.

At such a point in time, they were just delaying the inevitable, weren't they?

The earth shuddered, and not far in the distance, they heard it move. Collapsing into the sea.

Closer, a hundred feet pounded the ground.

Windchimes in the trees.

Erembour lurched upwards and snarled. Teeth gnashing at their assailant.

"Oh, how cute."

A raptoresque foot lashed out, eliciting a gut-wrenching scream from the Demon as talons punctured his flesh. Pinning him to the ground.

Pushing until bone collapsed and black blood stained the grass.

And it all happened in an instant.

"You have been the biggest pain in the ass, little girl."

Krista and Rhea snarled at the owlish woman above them as she wrapped her taloned hand about their throat, lifting them from the ground. "Why?" they hissed.

For a moment, Plumacera pretended to ponder the question. Eventually chirping, "Because you're a failure. Useless. A loose end that needs to be tied up."

They wanted to tell her so many things. Use so many expletives. Wanted to breathe.

Wanted to go down fighting.

They were so very tired…

'Just a bit more, Sis.'

Darkness entered their vision.

'We will fight.'

They were small, something the Hunter had strived to teach them to utilize.

'The Bird Bitch' was not.

Their leg swung up and hooked itself in her elbow, and with the added bit of leverage, they lashed out. Striking the radial bone as hard as they could.

They'd only intended to loosen her hold, but both bones in her arm snapped. And while she screeched and attempted to shove them away, they were digging their fingers in. Mottled claws bleeding as they ripped free handfuls of steel feathers.

The world started to fade.

Blood soaking into their wounds.

"Plumacera!"

"Mamá!"

No!

They didn't care!

The world snapped back into view just as the woman was throwing them off. Feathers filling the air.

Disappearing with the gust of wind that uprooted trees.

She was gone.

But not far.

Leaving the creatures she'd deployed with to finish the job.

They could not fully transform, but they charged at the closest bastard. Teeth sinking into tough flesh, ripping and tearing.

Their claws drove into the next, severing tendons and arteries.

Their second punch to the side, a barely noticed pain as they tore off a leg and swung.

They wished they had more strength.

More energy.

They would have hunted down Plumacera. Plucked her feathers and flayed her alive. But there they were, diving between the legs of a behemoth of a beast before clambering up its back. Wrenching the head off its shoulders with all their might.

A flash of silver.

A burst of air.

The trees around them shed their leaves in an instant. Light illuminating the carnage.

They could not see as much, but they knew D and Hand were behind it. A thought that comforted them as the creature they beheaded threw itself backwards. Crushing them between it and a tree.

For a moment, they wondered how it was still alive.

They could hardly think, however. Gasping for breath and unable to move.

But they saw it.

The glimmer of feathers fluttering from the neck.

Perhaps it'd been its own creature at one point, but it was only a puppet. Something that could not feel pain pinning them down. Arms snapping backwards to hug the tree.

They didn't have the movement necessary to free themselves.

Could only watch as Plumacera (a fake one, judging by her miraculously healed figure) landed upon the creature's shoulders.

If looks could kill…

"I'm not making the same mistake twice," she sneered, hefting up a black baton.

"Three… times…"

Confusion.

Remembrance.

Fury, as the fake put a clawed hand to the cheek they'd marred in the waterside town.

The baton snapped apart, one blade tossed to the wayside.

Perhaps they should have realized it before, but they suddenly recognized the weapons being brandished.

Their fucking daggers…

And where she'd intended to take their head, Plumacera now aimed for their chest.

She suddenly disappeared in a blur of black. An explosion of glittering feathers and inky blood.

Pain, blinding.

All consuming.

Their heart convulsed, and they gasped and coughed. Eyes wide in terror. But their vision turned down to eye the culprit.

A glittering hand, protruding from the tree. Holding the other dagger.

No…

No no no no!

The behemoth slumped forward, and they desperately clung to the tree in its absence. A pitiful attempt to mitigate damage.

Another gasp, another convulsion.

…

Was this really how things would end?

Pinned to a tree like a bloody notice?

Funny what the mind decides to focus on when you see your life ending.

Ending before it really had a chance to begin.

In a perfect life, Miss Haldwyn would have adopted them.

Maybe they would have moved. Maybe not.

They'd have grown up.

Married.

Had plenty of little babes to care for.

Had plenty of grandchildren.

And yet…

Their vision blurred. Things stuttering by.

They did not regret meeting D. Far from it.

But they did regret everything ending like this.

Another life perhaps?

Unless every life they'd ever live was doomed to failure.

It'd only been a handful of seconds. Seconds that were feeling more like minutes.

Perhaps hours.

Maybe it'd only nicked their heart.

Even if it had, they couldn't remain nailed there forever. Eventually, alive or not, their strength would wane.

It already was.

They were… so very tired.

With another gasp, they leaned into the hilt. Pushing forward.

"Still alive? Tenacious little bitch, indeed."

The world heaved for the second time as they dropped from the tree, hands tightly clasping their weapon to keep it in place. They wondered where D might be. If he was okay.

If Erembour would live.

He needed to. They all did.

Slowly, Plumacera limped into view. "Wondering where your Dhampir is?"

Was it that obvious?

"I've got him plenty occupied with my others."

Figures…

"Shame he won't be here to watch the life leave your eyes."

Smoke rose from the blade in their chest as they heaved for air. Heart continuing to flub and stutter. Silver slowly decaying the failing organ.

"Please…"

"What's that?"

She looked entirely too haughty as she leaned in, large eyes narrowed with glee. Sharp smile too wide.

They hated it. And quieter, they murmured, "Three…"

Now, she looked genuinely confused. "What?"

It had to be one of the oldest tricks in the books, something that had them internally rolling their eyes. "Three times… stupid bitch."

A slew of emotions crossed her face and settled on alarm. But before she could rear back, Rhea and Krista were driving the blade previously buried between their breasts into the bird-like woman. Twisting and ripping with all their meager might.

But it was enough.

Plumacera collapsed to her knees, wiry feathers chiming as she quivered. Incredulous. And finally, she slumped forward. Body appearing to rapidly rust before them. Hundreds of windchimes clattering to the ground nearby.

Drones retreating.

Relief.

A retch.

Less relief.

A little glass jar of ashes rolled into their arms as hands, pleasantly cool but warm, pressed to their sternum. They couldn't even feel their limbs, but they were so very thankful. Detachedly watching as their life pulsed past the Hunter's fingers in dark, crimson waves. Vision dimming.

"Here's to… hoping… we meet… again, guys."

They originally feared.

Perhaps still did.

But for now, they were calm.

Their companions would finish this fucked up job.

And while they wished for more with them…

More time…

More fun…

More love…

For now, they slept.