TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of past abuse
Hello, lovely readers! How have you been?
We're finally back to Illumi's pov's yay! This is a new content that had no been written on the first version, so I'm quite anxious to know what you guys think about it. I tried to make it as in-character as possible while also trying to show his inner struggle, which, I must warn you, will be something really important for the next chapter.
There's also a sneak peak on Medea's past. The abuse is only briefly mentioned, but, please, if you feel uncomfortable, skip the words in bold on her first pov.
A shout out to everyone for supporting this story! I'm glad you're enjoying Cataclysm!
The next two chapters are definitely worth reading btw hehe So remember to stay tune for the next update, lovelies!
Please do not forget: updates take place every Monday and Friday from 12pm to 5 pm PST!
See you,
—Cherry
lynnell246: Aww, that's so sweet, thank you so much for leaving a comment! I'm glad you're liking it so far!
There were few things in life that sparked Illumi Zoldyck's interest. Fewer were the things that made him content.
From a young age, he was taught that many things could, and most likely would, be used against him by an enemy at the first opportunity; he had to divert himself from anything that would not be useful in the long run. After all, what purpose would he have for his family if he allowed himself to indulge in mundane things?
He had to keep his mind focused. Centered. Nothing could distract him from following the orders he was given.
Due to this, Illumi had acquired a refined taste.
Movies? He had no time for that. Horse racing? Useless. Contemporary art? He loathed it with passion.
He was hard to please.
Illumi's preferences were solid, like a rock. They were immutable. Unmovable. Unbreakable.
He liked Classical Literature, quiet libraries, and the color green. He also liked fine pastries, but only the ones that weren't too sweet. Opera. The sound of his needles sinking into his target's skin. Control. Just the simple things in life.
But this moment was the apogee of his satisfaction in the most literal sense. He had Medea's life in his hands. As he retracted the needle from her vein, he felt powerful. He felt like a god.
She sighed.
Illumi stared into her unfocused violet eyes, the empty syringe still in his hands. And then, Medea fell to the ground.
He stepped back, watching the show from afar.
The corner of Illumi's mouth twitched minimally.
This.
This is what he wanted. What he needed. Ached for. Medea's life was slipping away, hanging by a thread that became more and more ruined as the seconds passed. He hadn't used her kanzashi to do it, which, honestly, was a pity, but he was still pleased.
Finally, that agony would disappear.
Finally, he could go back to being his usual self, to be at peace, and pretend none of this had ever happened. Pretend she had not tormented him for weeks on end. Eventually, he would forget about her — she was not that special, to begin with, so why should he even bother remembering her name, her face, or anything related to her?
Killua ran towards her, but Silva merely glanced at him. "Stop right where you are, child."
"There's something wrong!"
It was true. Medea's hands were grasping her throat as if she couldn't properly breathe, clawing at her own skin with unprecedented fury. Low, empty groans escaped her tinted lips and her eyes widened.
"No, there is not."
"She's choking!" He argued.
Silva merely shrugged. "That's one of the side effects of the drug."
"Father, she might die!" He insisted, eyes flickering from him to Medea, then to him again.
She remained on the ground, squirming in pain, nails piercing the skin of her neck and collarbone to the point of tearing it, the faint smell of blood spreading quickly. A weird reddish hue surrounded her eyelids, her purple eyes rolling to the back of her head as she continued to asphyxiate.
"Well, she agreed to this, did she not?" Silva inquired. "She came here out of her own free will, accepted to be drugged, and signed the contract, therefore, I honestly do not see the issue here."
"The issue is that Medea is my friend and she's dying! Weren't you the one who told me to never betray my friends?" Killua retorted, he pointed at the woman. "What is this, then, if not betrayal? Am I supposed to sit still and watch her die?"
"Precisely," Kikyo said, "This girl made the stupidest choice she could have ever made by trying to rob us, my dear Kil, so it's better if you simply accept that she's going to die. There's no need to be upset!" She smiled, walking towards her son calmly like there wasn't a girl on the verge of death mere feet from her. "Would you like some tea? Oh, I know, mommy will ask for those cookies you love so much and—"
"Stop! I don't want any fucking cookie! I want you to give her the antidote!"
"Killua!" She gasped. "Language!"
"No." Silva replied sternly.
"No?"
"Absolutely not."
"But, father…"
Zeno sighed. "There's nothing anyone can do at this point, child. Let the girl pass at once."
His blue eyes widened, horrified. "No! No, I… I, I know you have it somewhere!" He insisted. "I'm sure she won't ever come back here, but, please give her the antidote."
"Killua," Said the man, coldly, "there is nothing we can do."
"This is not fair!"
"And is it fair that we let her go unharmed after attempting to steal from us?" Illumi asked, arms crossed and a serene countenance on his face. "Do you know how foolish that sounds, brother?"
Killua gritted his teeth, but said nothing. He, too, knew they were right. Going to Kukuroo Mountain and invading the mansion was Medea's biggest mistake, she had signed her death sentence the moment she thought herself able to succeed in doing so. Dying of an overdose was the less painful way to go, at least coming from the Zoldycks.
"It isn't foolish," Alluka whispered, all of a sudden, making everyone in the room turn to her in surprise. "It's reasonable."
Alluka didn't meet anyone's gaze, opting, instead, to fiddle with the hems of her sleeves.
"And why is that?" Silva asked.
"She… She didn't steal anything. She failed."
"But she tried to. It's the intention that matters."
"And yet paying with her life was the punishment you decided on?" Killua intervened, shaking his head. "You could have tied her to this family through a contract and made her an employee, or maybe even demand countless favors in exchange for her survival! This is bullshit!"
"Have you gotten soft over the last few years, brother?" Illumi tapped his lips with the index finger. "Oh, that is not good. But fret not, when you come back, I'll make sure to fix this behavioral issue of yours."
"I am not coming back, Illumi!"
"Ah?"
"I'm only here for Medea."
Illumi frowned, minimally. "Are you, really?"
Before Killua could reply, a quiet buzz erupted in the room. Illumi looked around, trying to find where it was coming from, but to no avail. It rang through his ears again and realization dawned upon him. That was Medea's laughter. It was a mere giggle at first, but it soon became louder and louder, until there was nothing but a hysterical sound resonating everywhere.
Illumi arched an eyebrow as soft sobs mingled with the laughter and tears rolled down her cheeks, and he tilted his head to the side. Her nails no longer pierced her throat and collarbone, but now they scratched the wooden tile with a startling noise. Deep, harsh lines appeared as she continued to try to anchor herself, somehow.
She rolled on the floor, laughing and crying and muttering, or rather pleading, for someone to stop touching her and promising she would behave. Her face was completely ruined and stained black due to her melted makeup.
"What is going on?" Asked Milluki.
Medea's body arched, and she gasped, suddenly convulsing. Her muscles became stiff, and drool ran down the corners of her mouth. How odd, Illumi thought to himself. It was almost as if she was being electrocuted, except for all the strange murmurs and the lack of a pungent smell, of course.
A faint turquoise hue slowly spread around her weakened form, surrounding it like a blanket.
Illumi's eyebrows furrowed.
Why is she using Ten right now? She does not even seem conscious enough to do that.
"I… I do not know…" He confessed.
"What do you mean, you do not know?!" He retorted, apprehensively. "Were you not the one who drugged her?"
"Lower your voice right now," Illumi growled, not sparing a glance at his brother. His attention remained on the strange event in front of him, on the disturbed woman at his feet. "Can't you see there's something wrong?"
"As I have been saying since the beginning!" Exclaimed Killua, outraged.
"Illumi, are you sure you injected the right dose?" Silva questioned, his face as close to confusion as his son had ever seen.
He looked at Kikyo seriously. "Mother?"
"Yes?"
"Did you put the exact amount for someone of Medea's size in the syringe?"
"Why, of course, I put the right amount in it!" She said in a defensive tone, fanning herself angrily.
"Then, could you explain to us what is going on?"
"How should I know?"
"Your poisons—"
"Even my strongest poisons are different from the composition and effects of the Whispers of the Abyss, Illumi, and none of them cause anything like this! You know that very well!" She explained.
He huffed, tucking a stray strand behind his ear.
"Maybe it's just one of the drug's stronger reactions…" Kalluto murmured.
Zeno sighed.
"Well, that's the only plausible explanation."
"Her aura is quite strange," Commented Milluki. "Do you not agree?"
"Stay back, Killua," Illumi warned when he noticed the boy moving closer. "We don't know what is going on, it could be dangerous."
"I'm not going to—"
Suddenly, she screamed, but it was not like the laughter from before, loud and natural. No, this was different. It was shrill, disturbing, and persistent. It was agonizing. Like thousands of crystal glasses being shattered at once through the powerful voice of a soprano, the prima donna, during the climax of the most important song in an opera. His ears hurt. That was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most piercing scream he had ever heard in his life.
A burst of iridescent light illuminated the room.
It was cold. Suffocating. Heavy.
Medea's aura.
A white noise sounded, as powerful as thunder, and the air rattled around the library, shaking the bookshelves and the chandelier on the ceiling, like a gale before a tropical downpour. Books flew everywhere, and his mother screamed, as did Alluka and Milluki, all three of them horrified at what was happening.
He dodged from a couple of books, struggling to stay right where he was. The wind was pushing him backward at the same time the glowing aura seemed to try to pull his own into the center of the mess, where Medea was.
The chandelier creaked above them, the chains that held it rattling from side to side.
Illumi held up one hand, trying to cover his eyes to get a better view, and turned to the rest of the family. "Get Killua out of here!" He shouted over the sound.
"No! She is my friend, I won't leave her!"
"Get Killua out of here now!" He repeated impatiently.
"Killua, come on!"
"No! Mom, let me go!"
"Illumi, will you stay?" Asked Zeno, his usual calm tone replaced by a serious one.
He nodded, squinting his eyes at his grandfather and father, and crouched down in time to avoid being hit in the face by a table lamp. "Go, I'll take care of her!"
He didn't wait for an answer before staring back at the bright spot through the gaps in his fingers. The door opened with a bang, and the hurried footsteps of his family gradually became more and more distant, until they disappeared completely.
There was a loud bang near the entrance, probably caused by a fallen bookshelf.
He took a deep breath. He needed to find a way around this situation, whatever was going on. And as quickly as possible.
Was this some kind of Post-Mortem Nen?
He wasn't sure.
Narrowing his eyes, he sighed, and brought a hand to the needles in his tuxedo's pocket, ready to soak them in his Hatsu, but stopped just inches from his face. He frowned. The glow seemed to be diminishing. No, it was diminishing — the way he could see his own fingers without much effort was living proof of that fact.
But why?
The wind, too, was becoming weaker, he noticed shortly after. His hair was now falling around his face, messy and out of place. His feet no longer struggled to stay still. No books were flying. There was no creaking of chains, despite the slight swinging of the chandelier.
Finally, everything stopped.
The library was messy, but not devastated. Nothing very important had been affected — only the fallen bookcase, the table, chairs, and small items like books and lamps had been moved by the wind.
There was nothing broken. Nothing destroyed.
His long fingers clutched the needles tighter.
Peculiar.
Undoubtedly peculiar.
He took a step forward, very slowly. Nothing happened. Another one. Again, nothing. So he kept walking until both of them were very close to each other. He knelt down beside her, attentive for any sign of offensive movement, either from her body or from her Nen.
She was motionless.
Illumi stared at Medea's silhouette, still lying on the ground. Her aura had retracted once more, just a faint flicker surrounding her like a cocoon.
"It was faster than you deserved," He said, breaking the silence of the library. "A pity. I wish it had taken longer, so I would have had the chance to torture you, to see you cry and beg for mercy; that is what you deserved." He sighed. "At least it seemed painful. I would have hated it if your death had been both painless and fast… But now it's over. I'm free of you, Lanfort."
He rotated one of the needles between his fingers, watching the uncomfortable expression on her face. Then, he bit the inner side of his cheek. "I'm free of you… Am I not?"
There was no answer.
He sighed. It seemed like he was becoming crazy enough to dialogue with a corpse. How pathetic.
Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to make it presentable once more. Maybe the best thing to do was to leave her there and go back to the training room now that everything had calmed down. He still had a bride to choose, after all. That is, if he was still able to ponder about his options or anything else after all the trouble that thief had caused.
"I won," He whispered. "I triumphed over you."
Yet you're not here to see my victory.
He studied her face once more, but something caught his attention quickly after that. It almost seemed as if something had shifted. His gaze moved down. Red marks covered her chest, but there was no overwhelming amount of blood. In fact, there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. The movement had been nothing more than a fragment of his own imagination.
Illumi was about to get up when it happened again. A sparkle in her dress' cowl neckline. He leaned forward, watching it with increased attention. For a few seconds, nothing happened, until then, to his surprise, there was a gentle change in her shimmering Ten.
Her torso rose and fell — faintly, but it did.
No. No, there is no way.
Swiftly, his hand reached for her neck, and he felt solidity as soon as it touched the turquoise aura. There was a kind of resistance that prevented him from getting any closer to the woman, like a glass wall instead of the viscous substance typical of a Ten. Ardor and fiery sparks spread through his fingers as he broke through the barrier and pushed them deeper. Part of himself seemed to be torn away at that, but he persisted. The pain did not matter.
The hand stopped over her artery, at the same spot it had touched earlier. He waited.
There was a soft throb under his fingers. A pulse.
Illumi gasped, eyes wide.
He turned, extremely slowly, to the woman. He did not dare to breathe, and he truly doubted that he could even blink at that moment.
Less than five percent of people could escape the Whispers of the Abyss' lethal embrace. It was rare, almost impossible, but not unheard of. And she had done it.
Medea Lanfort was alive.
He stared at the needles in his hand and then at Medea, heart pounding in his chest. She was still alive, but not for long. The control over her life was still in his hands. He could still put an end to this, to her, before it was too late and the opportunity had slipped from his hands.
He motioned to distance himself, but a hand gripped the end of his red tuxedo, preventing him from doing so.
Illumi stopped, static.
He stared at the hand on his clothes. Trembling. Weak. Then, he stared at the thief.
Dead.
She was supposed to be dead.
It was what he had planned, what he wanted.
"No… Please…" Medea pleaded in a weeping murmur.
Illumi didn't answer. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have known what to say. There were no words in his mind, except for one.
No.
She had said no.
Did she know what he was about to do? Was she trying to manipulate him as she had done with Killua in order to be spared? Honestly, he would not put it past her. However, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, it was extremely unlikely, at least for the time being; she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes, she could barely move, she was barely alive. He doubted that she was conscious.
Her hand slipped from the fabric, hitting the floor once more.
He stretched and flexed his fingers. The needles glowed between them.
Black eyes shut tightly.
He was so close to achieving the ultimate victory. So close.
Maybe the choice of words had been nothing more than a coincidence, yet hearing her ask him not to do it had been…
With a deep breath, Illumi put the needles back in his pocket and sat down beside her, refusing to face her. "Truce, Lanfort. I offer you a truce for now."
There was darkness.
There was silence.
Peace.
As if awakening from a dream, she opened her eyes.
Although the place was dark, she could still identify the shapes around her. Rocks. Big, small, pointed, and rounded. She looked down, but saw nothing besides her bare legs.
A soft sound came from the silence. The sound of moving water.
Staggering, she rose from the ground and heard more drops of water. Her skin shivered. Cold. Too cold.
Where were her clothes?
She stepped forward, water splashing on her ankles. The ground was wet.
She kicked the puddle — or was it a pool? — and droplets went flying, creating a false rain around her. She stuck out her tongue, catching some of them before swallowing. It tasted salty, like seawater.
Giggling, she jumped on the surface, enjoying the sound of the little waves spreading out little by little.
How fun! She felt so powerful! Yes, she was so strong!
She laughed as she saw some beams of light appear over the water. They weren't there before, were they?
She bent down to see her reflection.
Two large yellow eyes stared back at her. She frowned. Yellow was not cool at all. It was the color of the sweater she was wearing when she had argued with Kite.
No, no, no, she didn't like yellow. It was ugly.
She turned around to have fun with the other puddle when something pulled her long white hair and she screamed.
Choking.
She was choking.
She was sinking! But she could swim, how could she be sinking? She could swim. She could swim! She could… sing? Nah, she didn't know how to do anything!
She wanted to throw up.
Why did she feel so heavy?
Why didn't she reach the bottom?
She was suffocating!
Worse, everything was dark again!
Everything but the dark, no, not the dark! She was afraid of the dark, didn't the Master know?
Enoull! Help, Enoull! Medea wanted to scream, even though she was drowning. Lord Araeso is punishing me again!
No.
Please, no!
Please, don't!
Stop!
I'll be a good girl. Yes, yes, I will be a good girl. Get me out of this room! Get me out of here!
Enoull.
Enoull.
Enoull…
Enoull?
Enoull!
Why had she deceived her? Because of that lying thief?
Everything meant so little to prostitutes.
But Medea was a prostitute too, no?
No, no, no, Medea was a Hunter!
But did it make a difference to people who knew where she came from?
Coughing, she sat up again, this time with wet hair. She didn't like to sleep with wet hair. She wanted to take a nap.
Inspecting her surroundings, she noticed she was in a beautiful cave, with lots of blue lights. Blue was beautiful! Like Enoull's hair! Like peacock feathers!
Grandma Hyo had said she would give her peacock kanzashi to her. Medea couldn't wait!
She stood up when she saw a figure sitting in the middle of the cave. She was naked and covered with red drawings all over her body, heavy chains held her to the ground by her wrists, ankles, and neck.
Poor thing! Naked and bound? She needed help!
Could it be that one of the customers had done this to her? There were many bruises on her body, some were bleeding!
She was in pain! Medea knew it!
She came closer and heard a hissing sound. Did people hiss? Oh yes, sometimes.
Or did they?
People growled, she knew that!
"Does it hurt?" She asked.
The chained woman laughed, a sharp, cold noise, but it didn't push Medea away. "A little. They locked me in here a long time ago, I can't get out even if I want to."
She frowned, thoughtfully. Poor thing. One of the girls must have told Araeso lies about her. That had happened to her before.
Ah, but she had an idea!
Why didn't she help that lady? Enoull always said that if she wasn't part of the solution, then she was part of the problem! She was helping, right? Like Enoull did whenever she taught Medea the choreographies…
She hated choreographies.
She hated to dance.
Whenever she made a mistake, her legs were hurt.
She didn't want to live with Mr. Araeso and the other girls anymore.
"Can I help you?"
The woman raised her head. Long golden hair fell over her wounded shoulders, and yellow eyes carefully studied her. Her eyes had slits! So cool! She looked like a snake!
Medea liked snakes, they made sssshhhhhh, they were funny!
But peacocks were prettier, they had colorful feathers! She liked colorful feathers. Enoull wore colorful feathers.
"Will you let free me, little one?" She asked, a grin on her lips.
Wasn't it obvious? She was naked and bruised, bad men had done that to her. First Enoull, then this lady.
Would they do it to her too?
No, no, no!
"We will escape!" Medea replied.
She pulled hard on the chains, but could not even scratch them. She was too weak. How was she going to help the woman then?
Heat spread through her body and she took her fingers to the rings that held her to the floor.
Oh, they were breaking!
She touched the remaining restraints until she finally released the yellow-haired girl. She liked her. Should she like yellow, then?
No, Kite had been sad when she wore yellow, she couldn't like the color!
The woman stood up, stretching after being stuck for so long. So pretty! She turned to the younger woman. "Oh, you most certainly will regret doing that," She purred. "I will enjoy every second of freedom you have offered me."
Medea's eyes widened.
"Now, go. I do not wish to talk anymore."
She felt the woman push her away and drown her in the waters of the pool again.
It was dark.
Medea was afraid of the dark.
In her mouth, there was a strong taste of alcohol and sugar. Her tongue was heavy, stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Her body ached, it felt like she had been beaten. Had she agreed to go to one of those strange shows with Kastro again? No. There was no smell of urine or sex or anything else. As a matter of fact, there was no smell at all in there — wherever it was.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, being greeted by a perfectly clean ivory ceiling. She frowned. Was she in a room? Why?
Medea sat down on the soft mattress with difficulty. Her arms trembled, especially her left arm, which burned as if it had been skinned. Could it be that she had been sick on a mission? Perhaps.
Her head was pounding. She needed an aspirin.
"Medea, I see you're awake."
Startled, she jumped. Her muscles groaned in response.
A tall man with long dark hair and large black eyes stared at her, apparently calm. He approached her and held out a glass of water in her direction. Medea noticed that, like the room, no smell emanated from him.
"Drink. You sweated a lot, you need to rehydrate yourself."
She stared at the glass, then at the man, and did nothing.
He blinked, but didn't seem upset. "I did not poison it, if that is what you are wondering."
Her violet eyes narrowed, but she took the glass carefully in her hands. As she drank, she made a list of everything that she could recall preceding her awakening.
One: she was on a mission.
Two: she needed to steal from the infamous Zoldyck family, one of the most important (if not the most important) in the murder business.
Three: she had been discovered by them.
Her last memory consisted of Killua and Alluka entering the training room. She could remember nothing else. After that moment, everything became a blur.
Noisy colors. Shapes of various scents. Tasty noises. Colorful smells. Warmth. Softness.
Nothing made sense.
When she finished her glass, still thirsty, she looked at the assassin. "Illumi. That is your name, right?"
"Correct."
"What… What happened?" She asked, throat sore. "After Killua and Alluka showed up, I mean."
"Can't you remember why you are here?" He arched an eyebrow.
"No. Just hazy, blurry memories."
He took the glass from her hands, placing it on the bedside table. "You have been sentenced to death."
Medea rolled her eyes. "I'm going to need more details than just this."
"Will you let me speak or do you intend to interrupt me?" He retorted, lifting her left arm and eliciting a pained whimper from the woman in the process. "See this bruise on your skin? It was…"
"Whispers of the Abyss," She concluded, eyes wide. Her memories came back one by one, like a waterfall of information. She cursed. "I thought… That I…"
"That you were going to die?" Illumi let go of her arm, running her hands through her hair. "Believe me, you weren't the only one," He sighed. "But, apparently, you are part of the five percent who survive it. Congratulations."
"How long did I stay like that?"
"A few hours."
"And what happened to me?" She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice less raspy.
He said nothing, just stared at the window.
"Illumi." She called out.
"Hm?"
"What happened to me?"
The assassin shrugged. "You collapsed," He said, walking to the wooden desk, where he reclined. "You laughed, cried, screamed, all at once. I had never seen anyone present such a bizarre side effect from this drug before. You somehow activated your Ten while hallucinating. I had to wait for you to stabilize your aura to move you here."
"And where am I?"
"In my room."
Medea arched an eyebrow. "Your room?"
"It's the one closest to the library. It was the fastest option to relocate you," He explained. "You had severe convulsions, I'm surprised you're alive."
She laughed bitterly. "Me too, I suppose…" She bit her lower lip and looked at him expectantly. "Does this mean I made it? May I take the Scroll with me?"
Illumi stared at her before answering. His dark eyes seemed to sparkle with a strange emotion, and she did not know if it was something good or not. Probably not, considering the gratuitous hatred she had been receiving since they first met.
Finally, he looked away and picked up a green tube adorned with silver details behind him, pointing it at the young woman. "A deal is a deal."
Medea nodded and took it carefully, amazed at how delicate and beautiful it was. Was she dreaming? Had she really survived the deadly drug the Zoldycks had given her?
She looked again at the assassin and smiled. "Thank you. Sorry to have caused a fuss at your wedding ball."
"Engagement."
"Ah, yes, engagement. Right. Well, I want you to know that I didn't mean to do it…" She scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment, but he continued to stare at her as if she were a circus freak, completely ignoring her apology. Uncomfortable, she decided to change the subject. "May I leave now?" Medea asked. "I need to hand this to my contractor as soon as possible."
He shrugged. "If you can get up, you can go. My brother is waiting for you on the first floor."
Nodding, Medea guided her legs to the floor with caution so as not to lose firmness. She could not feel her shoes, but ignored the situation. She had probably lost them while enduring the side effects of Whispers of the Abyss. Fortunately, her legs did not fail her and she walked slowly towards the door.
She didn't look back, nor did she say goodbye to the assassin. She would never really see him again, there was no reason to. Besides, she couldn't wait to get out of that place.
The way to the first floor was confusing and she got lost a few times, but in the end, she found the grand staircase she had climbed when she broke into the mansion. Descending the stairs, Medea walked down the hall until she saw two figures sitting at the foot of the large entrance door.
Smiling, she sneaked up and tapped Killua lightly on the head with the scroll tube.
He grunted, irritated, and immediately turned to his sister.
She stared at him. "What?"
"I already told you it's no time for joking around, Alluka! Stop hitting me!"
"But I didn't do anything!"
"Oh, and who did it, then?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Medea?"
"Do you have any proof, brat?" The woman asked, chuckling.
Both of their eyes widened and they immediately turned around to face her friend and her mission's target in hand.
Medea barely had time to react before she was squeezed into a tight hug.
"You idiot!" Killua shouted.
"Hello to you, too."
"Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" Said Alluka, eyes watering. "You… We thought you…"
"You acted like Gon," Killua continued, not caring about interrupting his sister. "Both of you are extremely brainless! Gosh! Someday you'll both end up dead, I swear!"
She just laughed and allowed them to lead her down a new secret path that she did not try to memorize.
During the path to the entrance of Kukuroo Mountain, Alluka would not let go of her at all. Killua, on the other hand, kept giving her a long and tiresome lecture about irresponsibility, keeping secrets, and her suicidal behavior.
Medea listened and laughed at the comments occasionally, but was not paying much attention to the conversation.
She was just gazing at the sky. It was still blue, but some orange rays were beginning to tint it. Still, it wasn't what she was focused on either.
In fact, her mind kept repeating the hallucination she had had over and over again.
You most certainly will regret doing that.
A shiver ran through her body.
What a bizarre thing.
She couldn't remember anyone who had ever experienced such an alarming delusion; usually, they were funny, unbelievable stories about seeing a cow go through a keyhole, trying to eat a stereo, or talking to a stuffed animal at Walmart at 3 a.m. and crying because it was too pink and fuzzy. In fact, to this day, she still could not believe she witnessed the latter while shopping for pads.
But then again, none of them had ever used a drug like Whispers of the Abyss. Maybe they all went through it, only they died afterwards.
Either way, it wasn't like it mattered. She had been drugged. It did not have to mean anything.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the Testing Gates opened. On the other side of the road, leaning over the hood of the silver car, was Kurapika, pinching the bridge of his nose intensely while keeping his eyes closed.
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled, but she ignored the sensation.
Kurapika was there. He was there for her!
Medea whistled, drawing his attention to herself. His eyes opened, and when their gaze met, his face immediately lit up. He stood in a completely different posture as he stared at her in amazement.
She didn't care about the road ahead, she simply ran as fast as she could and threw herself into the man's open arms, giggling like a child. She hugged him tightly and placed her head on the curve of his neck, breathing in his musky scent.
He was shaking, cold hands touching her bare back. "You…"
"Shh… I know. I'm here," She confirmed, feeling him clutch her even tighter. "I'm alive."
She was too caught up in the moment to care about anything but themselves.
And that's why she didn't notice a pair of dark eyes watching from the other side of the gates.
:)
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Contrary to the Zoldycks' belief, Medea managed to survive. But will she remain the same after the Whispers of the Abyss? And how will Illumi deal with this fact?
To find out the answer to these and other questions, stay tuned for the next chapters~