The Once and Future Queen

by LordRonaldwalis

After a chance encounter that leaves him wanting more out of life, Marco soon gets his wish granted when a certain blonde princess comes to Earth with her entire kingdom in tow. But things are not as they seem, and while the forces of darkness, fear, and evil seek to destroy, Marco and his new best friend look to make things right, between both of their worlds.

18. The Harrowing

Good people of Fanfiction, lend me your eyes! We're back and this time its personal! Apologies for the extended absence, as I'm sure most of you thought we were long dead. Real life has a great way of getting in the way of creative fun side hobbies and alas, twas the case with us as well. However, recent scheduling constraints have lifted, fast tracks have been approved, assistants proceed and writing springs anew! We hope you all enjoy our inane musings and know we're jumping right back into this bad boy once we push this out the boat!

Bon Appétit!

The Once and Future Queen

Chapter 18

The Harrowing

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Tick…

Tock…

Tick…

Tock…

A steady tempo was necessary to keep an office in order. A timely metronome that quelled distraction and kept every thought not pertaining to work at bay. Dave scratched another signature across the dotted line and set the parchment aside, adding it to the steadily growing pile of completed work. One new document drawn from the IN pile skated across the polished obsidian desk. Another signature was scratched out in red ink. Another stamp of the royal seal. Another finished task.

It was peaceful, organized, and exactly the kind of relaxing work that befitted royalty. Very important, but not so strenuous as to be classified as 'labor'. Dave smiled, careful not to waste time enjoying his lavish surroundings when there was so much work to be done. Two curtains of magma flow cascaded just beyond the windows, giving him a healthy orange backlight for his eyes. A glorious fireplace roared, keeping the office at a comfortable seventy-five degrees. Celcius. He was used to it by now.

Paperwork, proclamations, edicts, decrees, processes, warrants, meetings, patents, and writs; it was his bread and butter.

To say that King Dave was deeply devoted to his kingdom would be an understatement. He ate, slept, breathed, and lived, for the Underworld. Every stroke of his pen was a swing of his broadsword. Every edict was a waving banner. His desk? It was a suit of armor and a noble steed, the battlefield upon which he led his march. It was an epic, though often thankless crusade to keep his kingdom running. Countless souls passing through, carrying little more than a promise for discord and disaster, both his sworn enemies. Every advantage in war, even one waged in familiar territory, was priceless. A tool to be exploited without mercy. And unfortunately, like every war, there were atrocities one had to commit in the name of sovereignty.

Yes, order and conduct were the brick-and-mortar to running such a diverse and chaotic land as this. But fighting fire with fire was far more than a standard practice in The Underworld. Prosperity led to uncertainty, and growth led to disorganization. Change found new and inventive ways of breaking well-worn practices and traditions, especially while under a foreign set of rules. One simple offer from a man eager to take the world was all it took to disturb the march forward and secure a better future.

'Security, David. Everybody wants it, and everybody needs it. What legacy have the Mewmans offered The Underworld? What benefit has come from living in a Butterfly's shadow? I can offer you control by design; order in an ever-changing world. A solid foundation on which to build your empire. A…partnership.'

Despite the steady tempo of his march forward, Dave's attention was drawn to that side of his desk. Nestled behind a stack of scrolls and decrees put aside until a moment to spare came about, sat a chest. An intricate case of birchwood banded with silver and gold, crafted with the finest attention to detail. Really, it was a stunning piece that would have been a lovely addition to his office decor had it not been filled to the brim with all manner of dirty laundry. Bribes, blackmail, incriminating agreements, forged documents, bounties, tracking patterns, rebellion correspondence, execution orders… and payments. All from the new Kingdom of Monsters. The chest might as well be dripping with Mewman blood.

Dave shook his head, turning back to his work. Who he remained in contact with was of no concern, and for what reason he maintained that contact was of equal importance. It was a matter of perspective. Handing Mewni to Toffee had been in his best interests since day one, and clearly, it had paid dividends for his people. There was no kingdom above The Underworld. Not of Monsters, and not of Butterflies. And so long as Toffee remembered who helped put him on that throne, there would be no issue.

*knock knock knock… knock.*

Dave frowned.

His pen trembled in his grasp, his eyes glued to a half-finished, now scrawled signature on his decree. 'Four…' he thought to himself, slowly looking towards the door. He barked, "Enter," before returning to his parchment. The heavy Black Oak doors opened and closed with impeccable formality. Six steps forward, stop. Four seconds of waiting. Dave set down his pen and looked up, finding a towering Hellspawn glaring ahead, absent of mind and reason. "My Liege, you have-"

"Uh, Jimothy, you remember the rule?" Dave smiled at the demon, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

"Your Highness, I'm afraid it's rather urgent that-"

"Three knocks!" Dave shouted, storming to his feet and toppling his inkwell onto the half-finished document. "Not two! Not four, bloody three! You violate my office with your disruptive noise, and you have the nerve to stand there and tell me about urgency?" He stared down his subordinate, inhaling sharply as he watched the hulking demon wither. Dave turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the magma falls. "Order, Jimothy. There's no room for complacency when running this kingdom. Thousands of souls cross our borders every year. The squabbling nobles and their petty fiefdoms would tear us apart at the slightest weakness. We cannot give them any opening to take advantage of our errors. You have a responsibility to our people to maintain that order. Everybody's a team player, or they're out. Have I made myself clear?"

A gruff cough sounded from behind. "I understand, Sire."

Dave nodded in agreement. "I'm glad we're on the same page then." He turned and extended a hand towards the tattooed demon. "Now, since you've already derailed this afternoon's operations, I suppose there's no choice but to continue. What. Is it?"

Jimothy wavered, if only slightly under the scrupulous gaze of King Dave. The branded tattoos on his skin rippled as he held up a single slip of yellow paper. "You have a call on line two?"

Silence reigned for a moment before Dave nodded, taking his seat and glaring forward. He offered a dismissive wave. "Thank you. Jimothy. You're free to go." He reached under his desk and pressed the red button, sending down an eighty-inch Magic Mirror from the ceiling. As the door opened, he called after Jimothy, "And perhaps you can work on that disruptive attitude of yours!"

The oak doors closed and Dave rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out an audible sigh as Chelsea connected him to the incoming call. The only person who might be calling on a direct line would be… Toffee. Everything had been off the record and locked up tight, except calls on the private line. He organized his desk, dropping the ink-soaked remnants of the document he'd been working on in the waste paper basket before smoothing his ruff. But when the familiar face on the screen wasn't a certain septarian, Dave felt his chest tighten.

"King Dave," Moon offered evenly, pausing to allow for proper reception.

"Queen Moon," Dave returned, an oily sheen on his voice. He gave his mewman counterpart an easy smile, somewhat relieved with the welcome return to formality and decorum she brought. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She smiled in a way that indicated neither hostility nor appreciation. A perfectly neutral and collected facade he could appreciate. "I hope I'm not interrupting. You know that I wouldn't trouble you with an intrusion unless it was absolutely necessary." She knew how Dave operated, as did many of the nobles. To say he was a slave to protocol was like saying her daughter had a rebellious streak, something she wasn't fond of dealing with.

Dave sighed, gesturing to his stacks of reports. "Think nothing of it, Jimothy's already ruined my productivity quota for the afternoon." He made a vague gesture of dismissal, but his smile was difficult to read. "I hope it's nothing too troublesome, it's been too long since we've caught up over good news. What with your relocation, we haven't had very much time for 'catching up' these days."

'A year, really, but who's counting.'

Moon nodded, the corners of her eyes creasing with barely restrained worry. Whatever the news was, the pleasantries would have to wait. "No, we haven't, though I'm afraid I haven't come for a social call. I am afraid I need to ask for your assistance."

Dave reclined just enough to notice, his rigid posture relaxing. "I'm sorry to hear that." He paused to straighten a pen on his desk that had rolled out of alignment. "I don't mean to be abrasive," he began, pursing his lips into a frown. "If the Mewmans had been half as useful as Toffee, maybe things would have turned out differently. "But there is the small matter of compensation to be discussed when it comes to these things?"

Moon's eye twitched. Even now, he was trying to worm his way into her wallet. It wasn't as if the Underworld didn't have riches beyond even a noble's wildest dreams, but making a favor a transaction was something of a…cultural tradition. It came with the territory. No matter how large or small a favor of The Underworld was being asked, a bargain must be struck. "Are we still doing this same charade of dealing in favors? Dave, I understand your practices, but now isn't the time." She gave him a quizzical grimace. "It would seem a cruel impulse to set a price when a friend asks for assistance."

"Are we?" Dave asked, arching a brow. "Friends, I mean. You have–had your kingdom, I have mine, and wherein those two states interact, we have transactions. Money spent under the table, lines being redrawn, trade being persuaded; you and I are more business partners than friends at this point." Moon didn't seem convinced. He shuffled his papers and stood, gesturing to the cascading hellscape behind him. "This, takes a great deal of control to operate smoothly. A little grease here and there would do well to help keep the gears turning, no? We both run quite prestigious operations and who's to say that only one of us should benefit from-"

"Dave, our children are trapped in an anomaly on Earth, now is notthe time." Moon interrupted, done listening to his honeyed ramblings. "It's a bubble encompassing ten acres of the human settlement. Completely resistant to magic, impossible to breach safely; we can't even portal inside."

Dave took an unconscious step towards the mirror before stopping himself, unable to hide the shocked expression on his face. The loss of control was palpable, but not unrecoverable. "Where are–how did?" He took a breath to regain his composure, watching Moon as his heart pounded traitorously. Their long history together–their children's history together caught up quicklu. "A bubble. Tell me, is this an actual anomaly, or is this another one of your daughter's usual antics? More importantly, is my son alright?"

Moon shook her head. She couldn't feel the heat swelling inside the office, but she noticed the bead of sweat trailing down his brow. "We don't know." Moon trailed off for a moment as she considered her position, and ignored it. Leaning into her compact she kept her voice low despite the urgency. "No one has had contact with them since this morning. Star is clearly involved, that much is obvious, but as to the cause of it, I'm afraid I can't say. Believe me, my first assumption was quite similar to yours, but upon further investigation, Glossaryck has crossed that possibility off the list. All we can say for certain is that demonic magic appears to be involved."

That was a guess, given that she was operating off an already shaky hunch, but Dave stiffened, as expected. If the bubble was due in part to his… associates, then it wouldn't take a genius to form that connection. He had to play it cool. Control the situation. "'Demonic magic'? There's no evidence to suggest any of my subjects are involved, if that truly is the accusation you're flouting. And even if it was, it could mean plenty of things, from a stalwart soul to a botched summoning, maybe even a-"

"David."

At the full use of his name, he couldn't help but falter. He'd never felt threatened by her or her magical power, but Moon's true acumen never really lay in magic. Her prowess came through her leadership. Her ability to bend even the most obstinate noble to her will. She kept her piercing gaze glued to him, her ice-blue eyes battering his will and compelling his submission. It was a pyrrhic victory to have her strict attention, but far more bitter to have it demanded of him with a single word. "Something demonic made that bubble. Now I am not making any accusations, but please, as a mother to a father… If you know anything that could help us get idea as to what might have caused this?"

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Dave said nothing. This wasn't the Moon of stuffy Silver Bell Balls, nor was it the detached fury he'd witnessed at the battle of Ruby Kernel Hill. This was a worried mother. He moved towards the far side of the office, feigning interest in the curtains. "Consider news that my son is in danger satisfaction of the bargain. If he's in that bubble, then I have every intention of assisting you–demonic magic or otherwise. What can you tell me about it? What qualities does it have?"

"It's iridescent white. Where it touches down, the ground is charred. Hekapoo has suggested that it may be a folded pocket dimension, hence our inability to portal inside. Glossaryck is of the mind that the barrier was shoddily designed or improvised for some ulterior purpose, and my attempts to safely dispel it had no effect. It's immensely powerful, and somehow self-sustaining."

Dave nodded, scratching his chin. "This all sounds very interesting. But I'm afraid I fail to see how I might be of use in this situation. Relicor is far more learned in these matters, but…" He listened to the clock's ticks for a moment, planning his words carefully. Relicor hadn't exactly kept his reservations about Dave's dealings with Toffee a secret. Having him work as a consultant could prove damaging. "As mortified as I am that Tom is anywhere near this thing, your knowledge of magic outclasses mine several times over. Without the proper-"

Moon held up a hand. "There's more." This was the real gambit of calling Dave Lucitor's private line. If he didn't believe her, or simply refused to care? "The magic sustained around the bubble. It isn't the usual demonic- it's different from what I've come to understand of your magic. There's a wrongness about it. When I touched the anomaly, it cackled against my skin. Dave, it tried to fight me. I felt it boil with anger, and it pushed back as though I was nothing. Whatever this thing is? It'sold."

Where his expression had been resting somewhere between panic and intrigue, now Dave looked thoughtful. He nodded and folded his hands behind his back. This was starting to sound like his own sire had been the source of such a calamity. Moon had been dancing around the subject of accusing Tom, an appreciated discretion. "Alright, so it's old and powerful. Gimme a ballpark here, how old are we talking? Scale of one to ten."

"Twelve," Moon cut back immediately. "It's ancient, to put it properly. Older than the Butterfly Dynasty; maybe even older than the Underworld. Whatever this is, I fear it has long since transcended our capabilities alone. I've never felt magic quite like what's that's keeping that bubble erected."

Dave's eyes went wide as he let slip a low groan, making for the fireplace. "I was under the impression we'd sealed those wretched things away eons ago," he grumbled. Moon stared at him as he ripped his coat from the rack and donned it frantically. At his call, an impish little demon with a dignified pair of broken glasses and a clipboard poked his head in the door.

"M'lord? D-do you require the entourage?"

Dave nodded, fixing his hair and ensuring any out-of-place threads had been dealt with. "Yes, prepare the bone chariot, and have Relicor do some digging on the 'Primordial' project. Don't forget to arrange a cleaning service for my return from that dump. And Skallathrax? Have-"

The intercom buzzed loudly, a voice cutting across his instructions, "Sir? Sir? Apologies for the interruption, but I feel I need to remind you of last month's quarterly interdepartmental memorandum on using proper employee names in the workplace?"

Massaging his temples, Dave nodded. "Yes, Chelsea. I remember the memo. I wrote it myself." He turned back to his functionary with a grimace. "My apologies, Skallathrax the Ever-Blooded-Slayer, please have the beverage cart stocked, I'm feeling parched."

The tepid imp nodded, hurriedly jotting down instructions on his clipboard. "A-as you wish, sire. It is m-martini Monday, after all."

Dave nodded. "That it is." He sent one last glance towards Moon, who had been idly watching with obligated interest. "I'll be there in five with my entourage. Perhaps you can alert your natives that we're expected."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"D'cha hear that?"

Grell spat into the dirt as he shrugged his spear up onto his shoulder and loped over to where his dimwitted underling was pointing into the gloom. The thick trees all around them would create a permanent twilight during even the sunniest of days, but now that the weather was turning nasty he had to strain to see more than fifty feet. "Blasted rain…" he grumbled, fighting to discern anything out of the misty murk pressing in on them. There was nothing to see, and the only thing he heard was the sound of the stream as it passed under the bridge they were guarding. "Durn, you idiot!" he growled, lifting his free hand and smacking the man on the back of his helmet.

"Wot you do that for? I's only making sure we carry out Boss Man's orders?"

Grell snarled as he stared at his subordinate. Black ichor was weeping from both of his eyes, and Grell had to wonder if the same crap was clogging the man's brain as well. "You, me, and the rest o' the men have been on duty in this exact spot since… Since…"

"Since forever, Boss," answered Durn, wincing as another hand smacked off the back of his leather helmet, the disciplinary smack knocking it to the muddy ground.

"Watch yer tone… And I know the orders, imbecile. If you and the other men spent half the time keeping a proper watch instead of picking yer asses, we'd probably have spotted 'em by now! In fact, I want you, Mulvey, and Kinkers to spend the next–" His words died on his lips as the scratch of a footstep on gravel echoed through the gloom. "Look sharp, lads," he whispered, gripping his weapon as the sound grew closer. and a figure began to materialize. Another scratch, a third, and then a fourth until a steady footfall signaled the arrival of a lone figure.

It was the demon boy, Grell was sure of it. He recognized the horns on either side of the teen's head. "Well, well, well, Mr. Lucitor…" he sneered, stepping forward as he watched him draw closer. The demon's armor was dingy and damaged, his clothing looking burnt around the collar. He was also walking with a distinct limp. Grell couldn't help but smile. 'Easy pickings if the fool decides to fight instead of surrender…' he thought.

"Uh, Boss? Where's the rest?"

"Shaddup!" hissed Grell before turning back to where the demon was still limping over the bridge toward him. "Where's the rest of ya?"

"I ditched Marco two days ago, that weak human was slowing me down," Tom called back, coming to a stop about twenty feet away on the bridge.

"Ya hear that, boys? Not one for sentimentality, this one," chuckled Grell as his fellow bandits moved up next to him. "But what about the rest? I was told to expect at least four of ya's. You wouldn't be trying to pull a fast one on ole Grell would ya? Because I don't likes being tricked, and while orders say I'm supposed to deliver you to Mr. Shadow…" Grell grinned, flashing a mouthful of filth-stained teeth, "Nothing in me orders says I need all four. I don't think he'd care if I only gave him three."

"Look man," sighed Tom, holding up his hands, "I'm tired. I'm filthy. My magic's not working right in this damn stupid bubble… I just fucking wanna go home." He watched as Grell studied him for a long moment, clearly weighing something in his head.

"Wishing for this waking nightmare to be over, eh?" Grell's predatory sneer deepened, and he had to wipe away the black pitch that was running from the corners of his mouth as he motioned for Mulvey and Kinkers to take the demon prisoner. "Might'n just be where you'll get to go if ya play your cards right, valuable person like you."

"Good, I–wait, what?" Tom felt a lurch in his stomach as the guards closed in. 'What did he mean "valuable"? He could understand his value to the demon as a hostage, but why would he be allowed to go home? Tom wasn't an expert in the sort of cut-throat politics his father dealt in, but he was fairly certain having someone out of captivity was a poor way to force anyone to do anything. Despite the situation, however, Tom was curious. If he could keep this guy talking, he might be able to figure some stuff out. "Well of course a royal hostage would be great leverage against my father. I assume you're after a ransom?"

Grell and the others burst out laughing, the raucous mirth echoing cruelly off the gnarled trees surrounding their small bridge clearing. "Mr. Shadow don't need money… He needs–"

Marco burst out of the tree line, a silver shadow as he bounded forward. His pulse was roaring in his ear as he raised Silverlight high over his shoulder, grunting as he pushed off the knee-high bridge railing into the air. *Crunch* Marco's iron-shod foot smashed into Grell's face just as the latter had turned to investigate the sound of his approach. The creature fell back, his face a ruin of moldy straw and torn, ichor-stained skin. But as before, when they'd been ambushed by Segilis, the monster hadn't let out so much as a grunt of pain.

"Dude, he was just about to tell us something important!" Marco barely registered Tom's angry shout when he felt Silverlight bite into the shoulder of the other bandit. The razor-sharp edge of his sword scythed down into its body, cleaving him nearly in two with a spray of straw and foul black liquid. "I waited until they were distracted, I'd already started running when he said that!" he called back, turning to the remaining enemies.

Tom bit his tongue to keep from shouting at the human as he threw a handful of fire at both guards. It splashed off one of their forearms, spraying both of them with sizzling flames that left multiple small fires on their clothing. Still, he had to leap back to avoid the head of the bandit's weapon as it slammed into the weathered cobblestones hard enough to crack it. Summoning another handful of fire, Tom focused to push the flames higher before hurling the basketball-sized fireball directly into the guard who was about to attempt to run him through with a spear.

The blast took off its arm as it pushed him over the low railing, the monster's spear clattering to the stone. Tom didn't hesitate as he dipped down to snatch up the weapon,brushing off the burning straw arm as he swung it up to block another attack. Pushing the monster back, he brought the spear down in a chop that clacked off its defender's weapon. "Weren't you the one who told me just yesterday that sometimes patience in a fight is a good thing?!"

"I already told you I started going before he said anything, it was too late to stop!" Marco fired back, parrying Grell's sword as the wounded, but still deadly creature lunged at him. He stepped forward, the edge of his sword slithering along his foe's blade until it bit into leather armor. He let out a shout as he twisted violently, bringing his leg around in a snapping back kick that knocked his foe back several feet.

Grunting in frustration, Tom jumped back as another bandit nearly caught him with a twisting swing of his pole hammer, its steel head whizzing past his face so closely he felt his hair ruffle. "Yeah? You couldn't stop? Well, now we're fucked, so there's that. But, no biggie!" he growled, the shaft of his spear blazing into flames as his fists ignited. Pushing forward he feigned with a slashing thrust, drawing the creature's weapon to block before snapping his other hand forward to smash the butt of his spear into its face.

"Well, excuse me, Your Highness. I couldn't hear what he was saying and I took my moment when I saw they were distracted. Cut me some slack here!" shot back Marco before adding a muttered, "drama queen…" to himself. It was time to end this. Grell was looking distinctly worse for wear as the extent of the damage he'd taken crippled his defense. Chunks of straw had been carried away from both limbs by Siverlight's rending edge, and Marco knew another strong push would finish the fight. Still, despite knowing they weren't real people, that they were merely magical automatons; part of him still felt bad. They couldn't feel pain or surrender, so every fight was to the death.

"I'm going to take your face to replace the one you broke," gurgled Grell, a fresh wave of foul liquid running out of the corners of his mouth.

"Okay, I'm not gonna feel bad about this one." Marco rushed forward, keeping his sword low until he'd closed the distance enough to bring it up in flashing steak. Grell attempted to block it, but as Marco suspected, the creature had simply taken too much punishment. His forearm snapped, folding back with a sickening crunch of rotten wood to let Silverlight's crimson edge ride up his sword's length with a keening shriek. He pulled his shoulder back, lifting the blade over his opponent's faltering grip to cleave straight through its neck.

"Again? Really?" Tom couldn't keep the edge out of his voice as he parried another thunderous hammer swing from their last opponent. They'd gotten in several more fights since their first, very alarming run-in with Segilis and her monstrous companions, and in every exchange, Marco had managed to defeat his opponents before him. The memory made the flames in his fists burn hotter, and fire shot down the haft of his spear until the entire weapon was wreathed in blue flames.

If he just had his whole suite of powers, this would be so much easier. But whatever the demon was doing to control everything was also dampening his abilities. It was that, more than anything else, that scared the shit out of him. Days of frustration and fear boiled over, and he let out a demonic roar as his eyes glazed over into pits of dull orange hellfire. Leaping forward, Tom ducked another swing from his snarling opponent and thrust the tip of the spear forward with every ounce of his strength. The tip caught the monster in the belly, its sharp point easily bursting the rusty chainmail to sink to the crossbar in its guts.

Tom didn't stop there. Pulse pounding in his ear, he continued to run as the monster thrashed at him feebly. He pushed past a startled Marco, who had to dive out of the way to keep from being burned, until finally slamming the spearhead into the bark of a tree.

"He'll take you all!" spat the impaled creature, reaching for his sword on his belt.

"The Lucitors areThe Underworld! I will burn him to ash for daring to even question!" roared Tom, his busting rage finally overwhelming the last shreds of his self-control. Raising a hand, he strained against the dampening effect. It felt like pushing through a wall of viscous, suffocating tar, but push Tom did and forced a jet of fire from his palm directly into the creature's chest. It ignited with a fury, bits of burning straw and hissing pitch dripping to the stones. "Take you…" it gurgled, the strength finally leaving its body as it dropped, limp as a rag doll in a pile of acrid smoke and flames.

"Tom? You okay?" The hairs on the back of Marco's neck were raised as he approached the demon. Tom's chest was heaving, and he was still holding onto the flaming spear. "Tom?" he asked again, hesitantly sheathing Silverlight as he slowed to a stop on the bridge.

"You…" Tom's voice was a harsh demonic growl now as slowly, the teen turned his head to face Marco, who took an instinctive step back. His three eyes were a harsh pit of glaring white, and his lips were bared in a fanged snarl. It was a sight way past anything he'd seen at Panucci's. "Always showing me up. Always looking like the hero in front of Star…"

"Hey, snap out of it man, I know things were just really intense, but you need to calm down." Marco regretted the words the second they left his mouth as Tom charged like a bull, feet pounding as he cocked back a flaming fist. 'Apparently, we're doing this…' he thought, weighing his options.

Tom chose for him.

Marco twisted low to dodge a punch, the flames pouring out of Tom's fist singing a few hairs. Jumping back he raised both hands. "I don't want to fight you, dude, seriously!" Another flaming fist, this time followed up with a swiping claw that screeched along his breastplate hard enough to leave a trail of scratches.

"Just waiting for your chance to pounce and take my place!"

Tom lunged again, this time so quickly that Marco couldn't get out of the way in time. He rolled with the impact, falling back in a controlled roll as he maneuvered his foot up against the half-demon's stomach. Grunting with effort, he pushed hard, flipping Tom up and over him. *Crunch* He winced as he heard Tom smack into the ground. Flipping over, Marco felt his stomach churn as he watched a snarling Tom gripping his clearly broken arm before roughly shoving it back in place with a sickening series of snaps and pops.

"Tom, if you don't calm down, I'll–"

"You'll what?" Tom's voice was ragged as he finished setting his arm, "Is widdle Marco, the weak human, going to make me? I mean I know Star has a soft spot for losers, but Penelope always preferred her men a little less pathetic."

"I'd really recommend thinking about what you say next." Marco could hear his pulse in his ear as his fists balled reflexively.

"I mean, what kind of a man cries when he kills a Monster?"

Maybe it was the day and a half since he'd last eaten, both he and Tom having failed to forage for anything edible since they'd finished the last of the Captain Blanche's he'd packed. Or maybe, it was the distinct lack of sleep that had every muscle in his body groaning in protest that morning when he picked himself up off the cold ground. It could certainly have also been the stomach full of dread he'd been nearly choking on as he worried for all of his friends stuck in here with him. Whatever the reason, Marco didn't care as the last of his patience frayed at Tom's insult.

"Oh, that is fucking it!" he roared, running forward and rushing the snarling half-demon. If Tom wouldn't calm down, Marco would make him. The hot-headed demon didn't disappoint, stepping up and letting a haymaker fly as he rushed in. Marco blocked the strike, wincing at the waves of heat radiating off Tom's fist. Exploiting the opening in his opponent's defense, he fired off a pair of sharp jabs into Tom's stomach, pleased to hear the grunt of pain as the demon leapt back from him.

"Why can't you not be a dick for more than an hour?!" He yelled, jumping back as Tom rushed him once more. Anticipating another powerful, but slow haymaker, Marco was surprised when Tom threw a lightning-quick knee instead. It was a crimson blur, aided by what looked like a small burst of fire from the bottoms of his feet and far too fast for him to dodge or block. The blow took him in the stomach, slamming into the steel armor of his breastplate with a loud clang. Still, the deflected blow almost knocked the wind out of him and, Marco realized only too late, opened him up for the fist Tom had cocked back.

The world flashed an ugly shade of white as Tom's flaming fist slammed into his brow. Marco hissed in pain, biting his lip as a burning sensation flared over his right eye. Another punch swung in, and he barely slipped back in time to not catch another shot to the face. Growling in rage, he fired off a quick low kick that caught Tom behind the knee, throwing the teen off balance enough for Marco to land a snapping punch that clipped Tom on the jaw.

The teen went down, topping over as Marco retreated to lift a hand to his brow. He flinched when his fingers landed on raw, tender skin devoid of a single strand of hair. "You burned off my eyebrow? Dude, seriously?" Tom didn't answer; instead, he flipped over onto all fours and turned to face him. Marco gave ground as he worked his way back onto the stone bridge, alarmed when his heels clipped its low railing behind him. He could attempt to slip to either side and make a rush for the shore, but that came with the risk of getting caught by the sharp claws he saw leaving scratches on the stones.

Once again, Tom forced the issue as he charged on all fours like a wild animal. I have to finish this fight before things get deadly, thought Marco, willing calmness as he tensed to counter Tom's charge. The seed of an idea was sprouting and he'd only have one shot to pull this off. One shot to pull off a move you've barely trained for… whispered his traitorous brain as Tom closed the distance. He'd only practiced it in the Dojo with Sensei Brantley for a couple of hours last month. Life had been so unbelievably crazy lately, that he'd barely had time to train. Still, despite Brantley's eccentric nature and overly emphasized "BMX 4 lyfe" philosophy, the man was truly a gifted sensei. So much so, that Marco was surprisingly confident as Tom launched himself at him with an inhuman growl.

Waiting for the last second to force Tom to commit, Marco turned and tucked his body slightly. The half-demon slammed into him with a shrieking rattle of steel, the impact almost knocking him over the railing. Only the presence of the stone railing he was bracing against kept him front tumbling into the water below. Twisting with the impact as it bent him backward, Marco turned Tom's forward momentum against him as he grabbed the teen's wrist and pulled him up and over in a counter throw. Tom let out a surprised shout as he flew by his intended target, flipping end over end as plunged over the edge.

*Splash*

Tom crashed into the icy creek water with a hiss of steam. Marco watched as the murky water swallowed his thrashing form. A moment later, the raging demon burst from the water, glaring death at him from fifteen feet away. "I literally–and I know my generation uses that term ironically most of the time. But this time, I mean it when I say–I literally cannot believe you right now," he called down, feeling the swirling maelstrom of emotions in his stomach give a reckless push. "I mean you're dating the coolest girl in the world and you just can't help yourself. I mean I know I'm not perfect. Hell, I feel like a really crappy guy lately, but you can't help but be a giant wad every. Single. Time. I know I'm certainly not crushing it lately, but you-" Marco didn't care that he and Tom had actually started to get along over the last couple of days, he wanted this to hurt. "You are the worst boyfriend I've ever seen. Star gives you every single opportunity to do better but you just… can't."

Tom's fists flared white hot as let out another demonic roar. "I'm going to beat your a–"

"That! That right there!" Marco met Tom's bewildered stare with a vindictive smirk "That is exactly why Star is breaking up with you today!"

Marco's words echoed around them in the small clearing. He watched as the flames in Tom's fists dwindled and died, followed by the return of his normal red eyes. All the fight seemed to drain out of him, and Marco could see him slump in defeat as he dropped to his knees in the stream.

"She…" Tom sank backward, sitting armpit deep in the water.

Marco wanted to continue screaming at him. He wanted to pay that asshole back for every single insult he'd had to grin and bear. But seeing how defeated Tom looked as he sat motionless in the still-steaming creek made the righteous anger drain out of him like water through a sieve. "Ahh, shit…" he hissed, sitting heavily on the stone railing. Tom sniffed loudly, turning to face Marco who was surprised to see tears rolling down the teen's face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" hiccuped Tom, wiping a sleeve under his eyes.

"Why didn't I tell you what?" Marco felt the familiar aches and pains of the last two days beginning to creep in as the last of the adrenaline from the fight faded.

'Whe-when I asked you if Star was going to break up with me? Why would you lie to me?"

Marco couldn't believe his ears. Tom sounded… 'Hurt?' he thought, equally surprised when a wave of guilt washed over him. 'Add it to the pile of stuff I already feel like shit over,' he thought as another roiling wave of guilt tore at his insides. "Because…" he sighed, figuring a little truth might allay some of what he was feeling right now. "I didn't want to crush you in the middle of a crisis, alright? Think I'm an asshole for keeping that from you, but we needed to have our heads on straight. And dying out here because you can't stop moping about Star wasn't really on my to-do list today."

A long silence held between the two of them as they both sat there until Tom broke the tension with a rueful snort. "Well, it's nice to know you aren't as perfect as you look. Star talks about you like you're some paragon of virtue all the time."

"Trust me, I've done a lot of things in the past few months I'm not exactly proud of. I think…" he trailed off, his stomach flipping uncomfortably at the mention of her. They'd been following Star's trail for the last two days, Tom being unable to give much more than a vague sense of direction and distance. Marco sincerely hoped she'd managed to run into the rest of their friends because they hadn't seen or heard anyone since the fog. Another pang of guilt echoed in his guts. He'd signed on to help Star get all of their friends into this. 'If anyone gets hurt, it'll be your fault,' he thought, feeling even worse.

"You think?"

Tom's voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. The half-demon had a funny look on his face as he gazed up at Marco from the black water. "Sorry, had a bit of a Marco moment…" He paused, letting out a sigh as he ignored the demon teen's continued questioning look. "I was going to say that once we get out of here, I think all four of us need to take a good look in the mirror. I know I haven't liked what I've been seeing lately."

"Psh," scoffed Tom, "welcome to my every fucking day." He slapped the water, standing and wading over to where a flatter spot of the bank let him climb onto the shore. "You know how many times I've pissed off Star? My parents? Yeah, guess who's got to face that every day when I close my eyes to go to sleep? Hell," he kicked the still-burning remnants of the creature he'd blasted off the bridge into the stream, "Star's right to want to break up with me. Shit, I'd want to break up with me too."

Desperate to change the subject, Marco held out a hand for Tom to grasp, pulling the teen back up onto the bridge with a grunt. "C'mon." Offering Tom comfort in this situation felt like it might be a fatal dose of hypocrisy. 'Well…maybe not,' he thought, 'After all, you've already sacrificed self-respect for love, why not your integrity too?' Swallowing his conscience, he pressed his luck."Let's head out before any more of these creeps show up. Is Star still that way?" he asked, silently hoping as he pointed down the dark dirt road that disappeared into the steadily increasing drizzle

With a sense of weary resignation, Tom trudged to a stop. He knew what came next, and he was even less of a fan of it now than he was the first time. Concentrating, he braced for the pain as he tried to push through whatever interference the demon was throwing at him and pull up her location. "T-cha!" he hissed aloud at the ferocity of the needle-like sensation. Even ready for it, the pain took his breath away. He fell to one knee and steadied himself as a wave of wrongness washed over him. It made his skin crawl, feeling like ice-cold insects were trying to burrow into his flesh.

"You alright?" Marco made to move to help, but Tom held up a hand to stop him.

"I'll be fine," he grunted, standing with a noticeable sway. "I don't know if this bastard's aware of what I'm doing or not, but it feels like he's pushing harder and harder every time I use the curse. It's getting worse." Tom pressed his palms against his forehead on either side of his third eye and rubbed hard for a moment as the pain faded slowly. "Let's–Let's just keep moving," he spat out, standing with a slight wobble and hurriedly avoiding Marco's concerned look as he hustled off down the path.

"Deffffinitely not okay…" muttered Marco to himself, before hurrying after the demon.

Thirty minutes later as the two of them were passing under a particularly thick patch of murky trees, Marco stopped as Tom cleared his throat behind him. They'd been walking in uncomfortable silence since leaving the site of their latest fight, and he'd been on high alert the entire time. "Yeah?" he asked, not even bothering to mask the weariness from his voice.

"Sorry forrrr, just–" Tom scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Ya know, back there?" he finished.

"Wow…" Marco sputtered out, trying not to laugh, "That was a stunning apology."

"I'm doing my best here, damn it! I'm new to this." Tom winced at the heat in his voice before holding up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry for losing my cool at the end of that fight."

"And?" Marco arched his remaining eyebrow.

"And for burning your stupid eyebrow off." Tom gave a weary sigh as the pattering rain did little to fill the silence between them. He turned to stare off into the muck, toward the trees; anywhere but at Marco. "I'm just tired of sleeping in the dirt and having to fight off packs of these assholes that keep popping up as we get closer to Star."

"At least we know we're getting close." Marco decided to let the matter drop as he reached into his very stained and ragged fanny pack to pull out the tube of burn cream and one of the bandages he'd packed. "I remember seeing that bridge on the map, we're probably only an hour or two from that village if we stay near the road. Hopefully, we'll mee–"

A thunderous crack so loud it felt like Marco had been punched in the chest rang out, drowning his voice in a tidal wave of sound. The aural assault continued as seconds later, a still painfully loud echo roared over where they were standing. Ears ringing, Marco couldn't make out what Tom was saying as he struggled to clear the high-pitched whine.

"-hat the fuck was that?!" He finally managed to hear Tom's muffled shout as his hearing faded back in.

"Is it just me or did it just get a lot darker?" Marco's voice was low as he half-crouched and looked up at the dense tree canopy.

"What are you talking–wait…" Tom peered around, finally noticing how dim the already poor visibility had gotten.

"Here, help me up," said Marco, moving over to the base of a tree.

"Up?" Tom cocked his head.

"I want to see why it looks like it's sunset at one in the afternoon. You trusted my plan at the bridge, didn't you?" he added when Tom continued to look at him skeptically.

"No, I trusted Hank Innocent'splan," Tom retorted, smirking at a thoroughly nonplussed Marco.

"You've seen Escape from Jail Mountain?" Marco could barely believe his ears.

"And Escape from Jail Mountain: Early Release for Bad Behaviour, and–" He held up a finger as Marco gawked at him, "Anddd Parole Violation."

"How…" Marco felt his words fail him as his brain struggled to compute what Tom had said. Outside of the monsters that had tried to kill him, he considered the ornery half-demon his biggest nemesis. That they could have something so ordinary in common was almost too much for his tired brain to process.

"Star showed me the first one, 'said it was fun," shrugged Tom. "What can I say? I liked it, so I watched the sequels. I mean Hank's no, Slorgar the Unchained, but he did a good job. Nice to see it worked as well for us as it did for him, though."

"Wow–uh, yeah."

"Here." Tom moved over to a spot under the lowest branch and wove his fingers together to create a step. "Normally I'd just do this myself since I can fly, but in here…"

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Marco hustled over and used the boost to grab the branch and hoist himself up with a grunt. "Thanks," he called down, before beginning the long, arduous climb. Hand over hand, he squeezed between the thick branches, doing his best to ignore just how high off the ground he was. Pushing up the last few limbs, he pushed his head out of the canopy and looked up.

"That's not good."

Above him, the slate-grey sky had cracked and broken like a painted pane of glass someone had thrown a baseball through. The fracture ran right across the hazy disk of the sun he could barely make out behind the thick clouds, leaving a jagged, gaping hole. A hole through which rays of glaring crimson light were flooding. Deep fissures spiderwebbed away from the wound in the sky, an ominous red glow shining from their depths to throw the landscape around him into disconcerting bands of shadow and carmine light.

Marco's eye followed the patterns in the treetops as the rays danced over their boughs. Twinkling and flashing, they swept through the wet leaves to catch mist in local auroras of dazzling scarlet. The memory of his dance with Star that night flashed across his mind: The feel of her body in his arms as he guided her above the crowd, the way her sky blue eyes had captured his own so effortlessly–The light pulsed, and a wave of heat washed over him like the warm rays of a California summer day as he was illuminated.

Danger.

The feeling was so instinctual but somehow he knew it was completely true: Star was in danger. The thought had burst into his mind above the background-level anxiety he'd been carrying ever since this whole disaster had started; a singular drive grabbing his very soul to point him in the direction of trouble. 'I need to find Star. I need to get us all out of here right. Fucking. NOW.'

Marco didn't remember the climb down, seeming to come back to himself only when he dropped to the forest floor. He was so distracted by his compulsion, that he barely heard Tom's inpatient-sounding, "Well?" and turned to jog up the darkened path.

"Hey! Where are you going? What did you see?" shouted Tom, running to catch up.

Marco was breathless as tried to get the words out between his hard breathing. "The sky–" He stumbled on a root, stumbling for several steps before regaining his footing. "The sky is cracked, there's some sort ofweird red light pouring out. We need to get to that village, immediately." Something inside was telling him that telling the unvarnished truth about that light to Tom right now was dangerous.

"The sky? Okay that's a definite issue," said Tom, finally pulling even with with Marco and keeping pace as they pressed on through the forest.

"Understatement of the day. Now c'mon, we need to get there ASAP."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Jackie blew out an exhausted breath as she crested the ridge she'd just spent the last ten minutes climbing. Despite spending the better part of the last 10 years on either snow, surf, or skateboards, her legs were burning with exhaustion after two solid days of hiking with little to no food. Cold, dripping rain was filtering through the tree canopy, and she blinked away an errant raindrop that caught in an eyelash as she gazed up at the cracked sky. "How close did you say we were getting, again?" she asked, turning to hold out a hand for Janna, who was struggling to crest the last few steps.

Taking the offered help, Janna didn't answer as she puffed out an exhausted breath and reached back for the reeds she'd been holding onto for two days. Concentrating, she held them out, the familiar feeling of the foul magic in front of her so close and powerful it made her want to dry heave. "We're very close," she finally answered, turning and searching before Jackie could say anything else to distract her. Sweeping to her left, she kept her mind open as she searched.

She found what she was looking for. Star's now-familiar warm aura slid into focus between the two reeds she held in her outstretched arms. "Star's getting farther away from us," she said, frowning. If they ran into trouble when they got to The Box, it didn't seem like they could count on any kind of backup. "Wait…" she said more to herself than to Jackie. Another aura had appeared, farther away than Star, but it was difficult for Janna to discern its origin.

"Heya Jacks." Adam's voice startled Jackie as she watched Janna continue to sweep the reeds back and forth. The jump had made her foot slip, sending a fist-sized stone to bounce and careen back down the long steep hill they'd just climbed. Whirling, she spotted him smirking at her from a spot on a low branch of a nearby tree. "Watch your step. You don't wanna end up like that Bryce kid from Encino. Gnarly way to go falling down a ski jump."

"You Okay?" Janna's voice sounded strained, but a quick check and Jackie was relieved to see her friend's eyes were still closed. She was still busy, clearly concentrating on whatever spell or ritual she was using to track the cube and Star. "I'm fine, just slipped on a rock," Jackie blurted out, annoyed at how tight her voice sounded as Adam giggled quietly on the branch.

"Where have you been?" she asked, turning back to where Adam was now hanging by the back of his knees, giving her a quizzical look as his hair hung down.

"Oh, here and there." Adam grinned, playing out his hands. "I had a lot of junk to set up for our friends, then I needed a minute to chill after all that hard work. Also, I had an unexpected guest that needed some attention. Plus–" He dropped off the branch in a perfect somersault, landing as weightless as a feather, "Marco and Star have been giving me more trouble than I expected. They're… I dunno…resisting?"

"So that's–that's them?" Jackie's eyes involuntarily flicked to the sky, where the eerie red still poured from fissures in the broken sky. "I mean Star's magic, so I can see how she might do something like this, but Marco? How? He knows as much magic as I do."

"Trust me, it's both of them. And how? I don't know." Jackie's brow furrowed as she watched Adam's face. It may have been over four years since she'd last spent extended time with him, but she could still read his body language. He wasn't telling her everything. Adam seemed to sense her skepticism and for the first time, she saw his face fall into something that looked like fatigue. "Something happened to The Box. It's damaged, I think. Controlling all of this," he waved his arm around him, "was taxing before the damage. Now…" he let his words trail off as Jackie looked up to see another faint pulse of scarlet thread through the tree canopy. "All I know is somebody did a really good job hiding some serious firepower."

"They're okay though, right?" Jackie finally had given voice to the ugly fear that had been bubbling into her in tiny drips and drabs for the past two days. "Adam, you promised me they'd be fine."

"In the long term, they will. Look, when we were first learning to skate, how many bruises did we end up with? Pain is growth. You know it, I know it." He watched her for a moment and back was the familiar smirk. When she didn't smile, however, he let it die on his lips as he strode over to her, his head cocked. "I thought we were past this…"

The ice in his voice made the hair on the back of Jackie's neck stand up. Hard brown eyes utterly devoid of any of the familiar warmth she was used to bored straight through her. 'Be careful,' she reminded herself. "Just tell me nobody is dead or crippled," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut. She couldn't stand the feeling of dread coursing through her as he got closer and closer. Adam's cool hand touched her chin, turning her back to face him.

"Open your eyes," he said, a command that compelled her immediate obedience. Begrudgingly, unwillingly, she levered open her eyes and met his own. She expected to see cold fury there at her continued questioning, but instead, saw only understanding. "Jacks, I'm not gonna lie and say nobody's got any bumps and bruises. Poor Penelope even took a nasty tumble and broke her ankle."

"What!" Jackie exploded, taking a second to make sure she'd only thought that instead of actually shouting it. Seeing that Janna was still enthralled in her ritual, she turned back to Adam. "How bad?" she asked, mentally crossing her fingers.

"Remember that time I wiped out trying to grind that table at Bear Mountain? Not even as bad as that. Besides," he added, his voice an oily sheen of reassurance, "it forced her and Star to work together. Even Tom and Marco are working together right now."

"You were in that cast for two months!" Jackie felt sick at the thought of Penelope, already vulnerable with her lack of any extraordinary abilities, now hobbled and unable to walk in this very dangerous game.

"Jackie…" Adam's use of her actual name cut through the knot in her chest, and she felt an unnatural calm spread over her. "If it was bad enough, you know I wouldn't take any chances. She'll be fine with Star looking out for her.You know the price has to be paid. I told you that the night you took my hand. And besides, our friends need this. Has any of their behavior improved? Have you ever seen Marco so stressed?"

Jackie wanted to object, wanted to plead with him to just end this before anyone else got hurt, Or worse… she thought, but she couldn't find the words. Tranquility was settling in, seeming to mute her worries and soothe every sore muscle in her body. Adam wasn't wrong about this, something in her gut was sure of it.

"Don't you trust me?"

Those silent words hung in the air between them, an oft-asked question whose answer was on her lips the instant he'd finished speaking. "I do," she answered, nodding as she floated away on the dream-like feeling now buzzing through her.

"Good, because I need your help again. We're running out of time before this dump simply breaks beyond my ability to keep it together.But I need more time to finish what we started for our friends. That means we need to distract Janna here–"

"I think that other aura is Tom." Janna's voice broke in, and Jackie saw Adam tense as his eyes flicked between the two of them. "Wow, they're pretty close to each other. That's gotta be Marco and Star's doing. I can't see Penelope navigating herself out of Britta's patio. Do you think those four are going to find each other?"

"What do you want me to do?" Jackie thought hurriedly, keeping an eye on her friend in case she turned around.

"Just do what we always did when we had to bail trying out a new trick: roll with it." Adam winked at his play on words before stepping back from her and dissolving into trails of dark smoke.

"Woa–Damn! Star must be blasting something big, because that is a strong signal. I knew that girl had some badass firepower, but man that girl can blow shit up when she wants to–" Janna froze as a wave of nauseating power pressed in on her. It was like a physical assault, making her stomach churn as she dropped the reeds like they were suddenly red hot. Instantly, Janna's hand flew to the small satchel she had on her hip, pulling the small homemade talisman she'd brought to brandish like a shield. Whispering a few words of protection, she stepped back as the woods in front of her seemed to yawn wide, a dark void that swallowed the scant sunlight until they were standing in a deep twilight. "Jackie, stick close, I'm pretty sure our asshole imposter is back."

"Foolish little witch," hissed a familiar voice whose words still made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It let out a razor-edged snort of derision, sounding like it had shifted to her left as it spoke. "Always pushing too far… The mewman isn't here to save you this time, what will you do when I come for you?"

"Not as foolish anymore, asshole!" Janna focused on the talisman in her hands and felt the sickening power lessen considerably. She'd been spending every minute she wasn't with her friends scouring every occult reference she could lay her eyes on, searching for any protection she could get them. The recipe for this particular protective item had been a find that she'd been hoping would be effective considering the cost of its materials. She was more than glad to know it worked right now.

"Ohh little witch…" A muted, pitying laugh echoed all around her. "What is new to the fleeting spark of mortal life is but a distant memory to me. Tell me, what dusty tome did you dredge up that pathetic trick from? I can tell you the creator's name in a thousand languages if you wish–" Janna winced as a chorus of voices broke into her thoughts. Words in every language she knew and dozens more, all speaking the same word: Failure. "Paltry trinkets…they won't save you now."

Again, the voice came from the left, and Janna repositioned to put herself in between the demon and Jackie. She felt an increase in the pressure as something not quite solid streaked in to glance off the invisible shield in front of her. "Decided to break with tradition and do a little studying after the last time you showed your ugly face. I'm ready for you this time."

Another streaking spear of darkness flew in only to shatter against the barrier she was projecting. It had hit harder, the force of the impact making her take a half-step back. "More powerful and… More arrogant…" the voice replied, its words trailing off gurgling chuckles.

"Janna?"

It was Jackie's voice, and too late did Janna realize she'd been played. He'd been toying with her, turning her in place with his taunts as a lure. The result was that she'd fully turned around to face the steep ridge they'd just crested and had her back to the woods. The move had forced her attention and more importantly, her protection, in the wrong direction.

"Too slow," it whispered, triumph in its icy voice.

Whirling back to face the woods, she only caught a fleeting glimpse of the demon's hideous grin and Jackie's pleading eyes before her best friend was cloaked in shadows and pulled, screaming, into the woods.

"Jackie!"

Stumbling and nearly rolling an ankle, Janna hurtled a fallen log in her headlong pursuit of her friend. She could hear Jackie's voice ahead, though, try as she might, she remained out of sight in the heavy gloom. Ducking under a branch she flinched as sharp branches raked at her cheek, barely missing her eye as they clawed at her face. Pushing forward, she leapt over a small stream that seemingly appeared from nowhere, sliding and falling hard to her hands and knees as she landed on the other side. A long, keening scream tore from the dark wood and Janna fumbled to push down the terror in her guts. "Hold on!" she shouted, frantically scrambling to her feet and cursing her clumsiness.

"If only you ran as fast as your mouth, child! Can you hear the fun we're having!" A scream punctuated the voice."Can you save her? Can you save yourself?" hissed the voice, and Janna gritted her teeth against the ice in her chest as she burst up the stream bank and pushed hard to regain the lost distance. Ahead, the crashing noise of tree branches being pushed violently aside gave her an easy target to chase, but try as she might, she never seemed to close the distance. 'Realllly wishing I didn't skip gym class last semester right now…' she thought as the beginnings of a stitch were beginning to shoot up her side.

*Crunch*

The hiss of flashing brush as Janna ran gave way to the sound of her feet crunching on of her, she spotted two pale, sickly orange lights. She'd crossed out of the stream onto a dirt road. Ahead, a small paved sidewalk that stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark forest led into the murk toward the lights. Fist closing hard around the protective talisman for reassurance as well as protection, she tensed for an attack as she pushed down the path closer to the lights.

"What the…" Janna's voice trailed off a minute later as the impossible sight in front of her finally materialized out of the gloom.

The shock of seeing her own home made her skid to a stop mere feet from the front door. To her left and right were the two big bay front windows that fronted the living room and dining room of her home, except now they glowed with a menacing light that prevented her from seeing inside. Janna's mind whirled with unpleasant possibilities as she slowly approached the unnerving simulacrum of her house. "Okayyy, obvious trap, but…" she muttered, holding out her hand until her fingers brushed the wood of the front door. It was solid, and ice cold.

"JANNA!" Jackie's muffled voice sounded from beyond the door. Did it matter if it was an obvious trap or not? When the only choices she had were to press forward and try and rescue her friend, or turn tail and run…

"Friends don't bail on friends."

Jackie's own words from years ago flashed in Janna's head. It was what the surfer girl had told her after taking the rap for something Janna did that would have landed the latter in a month of Saturday detentions.

Steeling her resolve, Janna gripped the knob and pushed hard, charging into the pitch-black interior. Her ears were on high alert as she listened for any sign of Jackie or the Demon in the darkness. "Oomph," she grunted, tripping on something in the darkness and stumbling to her knees. Sharp pain raked her legs as she landed hard, and she reflexively put her hands out in front to catch her from smacking teeth-first into the floor. A sharp click-clattering made her stomach drop as she heard the wire she'd used to lash several pieces of her charm together snap and various pieces skitter away in the darkness. She'd smashed it into the floor in her bid to catch her fall, and now her best protection was useless.

Behind her, the sound of a door opening, made her freeze before the light snapped on. "Whe-what?" Eyes wide, Janna instantly recognized her father's office. Am I…shorter? Leaning forward, she peered at her reflection and was shocked to see a younger version of herself staring back.

"Janna, are you paying attention?" The sound of her father's angry voice pulled her back to the moment. "I thought we talked about this already. You can't keep getting in trouble at school. This is the third time this month your principal's office has called about your behavior. I don't think I need to remind you that if you get suspended again this semester, you may be expelled. You're already on thin ice after that fake botulism scare last month."

"I–" Janna was stunned. She had vivid memories of that exact event and its very unpleasant aftermath. Unwillingly, she was twelve years old again, feeling small in the face of her father's rare showing of temper. Waves of shame and regret seemed to pang around inside of her as she fought to keep her wits. 'Keep it together girl, that was a long time ago and you've gotten a lot better at not getting caught,' she mentally reminded herself. Still, it all felt so real she could almost smell the burnt dinner her mother had tried to cook for them that night.

"I'm doing my best to set up my practice, and your mothers working to make tenure. Janna, you know we can't afford a private school. You're grandfather has already offered to have you enrolled in his school in Manila. Get thrown out, and your mother and I won't have any choice but to enroll you."

Janna shuddered as those unpleasant memories seemed to pulse in sync with her present. Even though she knew this wasn't real, knew that this was the Demon tormenting her, it still shook her. At the time, she'd only just begun to feel at home after two years in Echo Creek. So the idea of being torn away from all of her friends again had been enough to set her on her best behavior for almost six months. But now, that same cold dread seized her very being and squeezed tight as her pulse raced in her chest.

"And another thing." Her father's voice again broke into her thoughts and she looked up to see him frowning down at her. "Pranking Marco? I thought he was your friend, Iha…" Again, Janna felt a guilty pang for long ago misbehavior as his eyes softened, "I know you haven't had the best time making friends in the last two years, but try not to drive away the ones you have made. That boy may not always be so forgiving."

"Yes, Dad." Janna could punch herself for answering her not-father. 'Don't play his game!' She was screaming at herself internally.

"Good, now go work on that homework I know you're procrastinating on, I need to work on my patient notes." Janna allowed herself to be steered out of her fake parent's office and toward the door as anxiety built in her chest. Hesitantly, she braced as she reached out and opened the door, stepping through into a bright light.

"Gah!" Janna cried out as something pushed her from behind. Stumbling once more, she managed to catch herself before whirling to face whatever had pushed her.

"What's this?"

Janna couldn't mistake that haughty, "better-than-you" tone in a million years. "Brittany. Fucking. Wong…" she muttered, seeing the frowning teen glaring at her. From what she was wearing, Janna figured she must have been in a later memory. Maybe her freshman year, she decided. Honestly, she'd had so many run-ins with the snooty queen bee of Echo Creek Academy, that this particular incident could have been one of several. Brittany took another step towards her and held up a small figure. "What the hell is this?

"Just a good luck token…" She grinned at the furious teen. Fake or not, Janna couldn't resist the urge to get a dig in.

She watched as Brittany narrowed her eyes and dropped the figurine, crushing it with a designer clog. "Listen, freak." she hissed, leveling a painted nail at Janna's chest, "everybody at school knows what a weirdo you are. Do you honestly believe in that witchcraft junk?" Behind her, Chantal and Megan chuckled sycophantically. Students had begun to gather around them in a loose circle, onlookers to the unfolding drama.

"Well one of us doesn't," Janna deadpanned, unsurprised when her answer only further infuriated Brittany. If she was going to have to be a player in these stupid mind games the demon was playing, she might as well have fun with it.

"Look, bitch–"

The crowd "Ooh-ed" as Brittany took a step closer, her cheerleader flunkies fanning out. "Everyone at school knows what a head case you are. Janna the weirdo, playing with her stupid little candles and salt and looking like you get your clothes from a homeless shelter. Seriously Janna, have you ever considered that not dressing like you shoplifted your wardrobe from Goodwill might make us hate you less? Not that I'd expect a criminal like you to understand that."

It had gone deathly silent now, and Janna steadied herself for what was coming next. Brittany's little speech had jogged her memory, and she knew the next thing that happened in this sequence of events was her own barbed retort that ended up getting her slapped across the face. Not one to take that lying down, Janna had leapt on Brittany, only to be dragged off by four of her cheerleader goon squad. Jackie had stepped in at that point, having overheard the scuffle from the lunch line, but Janna could still feel the sharp sting on her cheek. Pain aside, that had been nothing compared to the injustice that followed.

Pressed by both Marco and Jackie to take things to Principal Skeeves, she had been unsurprised when Brittany had used her family's wealth and influence in town to weasel out of any meaningful punishment. Janna suspected the spirit club's booster fund was likely the Principal's personal piggy bank, allowing Brittany's parents to influence all sorts of school decisions without any paper trail. Worse still, was the mannequin squad maintaining that Janna had started the fight. And with only Jackie to stand as a credible source against the claim,she'd taken the full blame. So in the end, going to Skeeves ended up earning her a one-week suspension for fighting, while Brittany didn't serve a single day in detention.

It had been a high point of their interpersonal tension during her freshman year, with Brittany seemingly taking umbrage with her very existence. Janna had made sure to settle the score when she got back to school the week following her suspension by mixing Brittany's leave-in conditioner with some hydrogen peroxide. The results hadn't been pretty, and Brittany had missed over a week of school as she desperately tried to put the color back in her hair. And while Janna had been the prime suspect, she'd been extra careful to leave no trace, so the matter was dropped with a stern warning from Principal Skeeves. A subtle hint to a furious Brittany that next time, it may be Nair, had resulted in a silent agreement between the two to keep things at a simmering hatred instead of all-out warfare.

Deciding to hurry up and get this over with, Janna repeated the infamous line that had sparked the incident. "At least I have realhobbies, Cheerbot. I'd rather play with candles and salt than spend one second on your little goon squad here." That was it, the spark she still remembered to this day. She watched in detached fascination as Brittany's brow darkened and her glossy purple lips twisted into a snarl of anger. Funnily enough, she couldn't remember this moment as clearly as she could witness it now. Bracing for impact as Brittany raised her hand to strike her, she readied herself to hit back with everydirty trick she knew.

"Back off Brittany!" she shouted, shoving the surprised head cheerleader to the ground.

For a moment, Janna was too stunned to speak as the group of students broke into hushed whispers. 'This isn't how it happened, unless…' she thought, feeling like her brain was pushing through thick mud. Jackie hadn't come to intervene until after the real Brittany had hit her. No, she could see this was the current-day version of her friend as she was still wearing her blue monk's robes. Hope flared as the realization clicked into place in her mind; this couldn't simply be the demon taking something from her memory to use against her.

"Jackie!" she felt her face break into a grin until a feral scream from the spot on the ground where Brittany was lying made her freeze. She was staring up at them, chest heaving and dark fury in her eyes. "You!" she screeched, her head twisting violently to the side as she lurched to her feet. The movement was awkward and stilted; like she'd tried to get up by bending her knees as little as possible. A horrible snapping sound of tearing skin and parting sinew made Janna's body physically recoil as she watched Brittany's body undergo a nightmarish transformation: Her fingers twisted and elongated, knife-sharp claws erupting from under manicured nails; splitting her fingertips and turning them into six-inch razors. Arms stretched, cracking and popping as her shoulders hunched and arched in ways no human body ever should. All the while, the cheering crowd pressed in to form a circle around them.

"Fight. Fight. Fight."

The booming chant was on as Janna's brain screamed, 'Move, STUPID!' at her legs. But the macabre scene in front of her had stolen her strength as Brittany's limbs continued to break and mend, increasing her height by at least two feet to tower over all of them. She'd lost the stone, their best protection… and now they were going to be torn apart by a nightmare version of her high school bully. A tug on her wrist broke the hold of the horror show in front of her, and she locked eyes with Jackie as the latter shouted, "We gotta go!" Together they broke into a run, Jackie throwing her shoulder into Chantel to knock her out of the way as they rushed out of the circle.

They pounded down the hall, trying their best to dodge students as they careened and pinballed through the crowd. Janna, unable to resist the urge to check behind, regretted it immediately. The Brittany-thing had seemingly finished its awful transformation and had turned to give chase, its head almost a foot above everyone else in the hall. A swipe of its clawed hand ripped two students nearly in two, their "guts" spilling out as moldy, ichor-soaked straw. It shrieked at them, loping forward to give chase.

"This way!"

Janna reluctantly took her eyes off the horror pursuing them as she followed Jackie through the hall. They turned at the intersection, still dodging students in the crowded corridor as she let Jackie lead them toward what she hoped was a way out. Streaking past Mr. Candle's office, they hooked left, but not before Janna heard Brittany slam into the lockers behind them. A chorus of crashing metal rang out, closely followed by howls of apoplectic rage. "The Gym!" She had to shout to be heard over a shrieking roar of anger and the groaning of protesting steel behind them. She was sure there was an emergency exit just on the other side of the basketball court.

They just had one problem: Brittany was getting up. She could hear the lockers rattling and clattering as the monster pushed them off of her. Soon, she'd be free, and then she'd be back to catching up to them at Olympic sprinter pace. Pushing herself to run faster than she ever had from any security guard or victim of her pranks, Janna reached into her small satchel and grasped another of the items she'd brought along. This time, it was an old perfume bottle she'd rescued out of the recycling bin to hold sanctified oil. Hoping like hell it would buy them some time, she smashed it behind her as they made it to the double doors. With any luck, the research she'd put in suggesting this particular formulation might prevent the demon from following. At least for a few moments, and maybe, enough to escape.

"There!" Jackie shouted as they burst into the gym, pointing across the basketball court to where a glowing red exit sign beckoned.

They were halfway across the gym when an unholy shriek filled the gym. Janna looked back just in time to see a dark shape slide past the still-closing doors before a muffled thump shook the floorboards. Turning back, she shouted, "Hey, at least the oil worked somehow!" The words had burst out of her unbidden, the cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and hope fueling her pumping legs and she laughed as Jackie looked back at her, wide-eyed. Together they streaked across the court, the practicing basketball team not even noticing as they cut through.

*Clank* Janna's heart sank as the exit door jerked to a stop, both her and Jackie bouncing off with grunts of pain. The rattle of chains had made her look down and she saw that both push bars of the door had been chained together with a padlock.

Jackie kicked at the lock and tried to pull it open. "Seriously?! Who chains a fire exit shut?"

"Jackie, I don't think there's a lot of building codes in whatever the hell this nightmare is." Janna's hand was in her pocket even as she answered, her fingers easily plucking the lockpick from its special spot on her key chain. Out in the hallway, the howls had become louder, and several scratches and bangs signaled that Brittany was trying to regain her footing on the oiled tile.

With hands trained from hours of practice to ensure swift entry into spaces other people might want her to stay out of, Janna skillfully inserted the tension bar. Taking care not to let her nerves make her over-torque the small lock cylinder, she pushed in the other piece of the lock pick and began to go to work on setting the locking pins. She only had one chance to get this right and real or not, she didn't want to think about what Brittany's new manicure could do to her. Rocking the pick as she worked at the lock, she felt a thrill of victory as the first locking pin slid into place.

"Uh, don't mean to pressure you, but we're almost out of time here."

"Jackie, you realize saying 'No Pressure' does the exact opposite thing, right? I use that same trick on Marco when he's trying to do something delicate during his martial arts practice." Without warning, the doors on the other side of the gym had just burst open. Fingers flying, Janna bit her tongue as she felt the second and third pins in the lock click into place. "Just one moreeee," she pleaded with her hands to work faster. They had seconds before Brittany spotted them. Raking the pick back and forth, she felt her heart leap as the fourth pin slid home and the torsion bar slid over to unlatch the lock. Another shriek and the click of sharp talons on hardwood signaled just what Janna had been dreading; they had been spotted. She twisted the lock, tossing it aside as she frantically worked to untangle the mess of chains. *Tunk* The end of the chain had whipped around to catch her in the cheek. The pain made her see stars for a moment, but she ignored the taste of blood in her mouth as she leaped to follow Jackie through the door.

Damp, chilly air socked her in the face like a cold wet towel, the unexpected sensation jarring as she blinked in the sudden darkness. Twisting, she made to close the door they'd just slipped through but found only empty woods behind her. Turning back, she saw Jackie just ahead of her with her hands on her knees, breathing hard, but otherwise appearing unharmed. It seemed besides her racing heart, only the slow trickle of blood down her cheek gave any indication they'd almost been torn to ribbons. "Holy fucking shit…" she managed to gasp out, listening for any sign of danger over her pounding heart as her eyes darted from one shadow to the next.

Seeing and hearing nothing, she didn't let herself relax as she kept alert for danger. It looked like they were right back where she'd entered that nightmare version of her own house. She could even still make out the footpath she'd followed in her frantic pursuit. Janna grunted in pain as the stitch in her side dug in particularly hard. Digging her knuckles into the sore spot, she grimaced at the dawning irony. "I'm starting to empathize with Marco about all these crazy adventures. It's exhausting running for your life all the time."

"Well, I'm starting to think maybe Marco's the real adrenaline junkie out of the three of us. I haven't had a rush like this since the first time I landed a double backflip at Pine Ridge five years ago."

Jackie's voice sounded unsteady, and Janna could hardly blame her as she took a moment to think. Her overconfidence had nearly gotten them killed, and she'd either lost or used two of her best defenses in the process of getting them out. She had the unpleasant feeling that they were all perched on top of a domino and it was already wobbling. Reaching back, a wash of relief came with the feeling of her two reeds, still tucked into her pack."Jackie, stick close. I'm just gonna do a quick check so we can finally go shut this fucking nightmare thing off."

No answer.

"Jackie? You okay?" Looking over, Janna saw her friend standing motionless looking away from her. Well, not exactly motionless. She could see Jackie's head moving ever so slightly; almost as if she was having a quiet conversation with an unseen person. A head shake, and then another, until finally a slight sniffle as her friend let out a choked sob. Janna's gut lurched. Of course, Jackie wasn't okay. They'd just ran for their lives from a demon that had been tormenting her for weeks.

"Hey, it's okay, we made it," she said, trying to sound as confident as she could given their circumstances. Reaching out, she rested a hand on Jackie's shoulder, surprised to feel her flinch. "We'll be out of here soon, I just need to get us to the bo–Urk!"

Shock and pain flared as Jackie whirled around in a flash of blue robes. A white-hot lance of agony was piercing Janna's chest just under the collar bone, and she felt numb shock spread through her when she spotted the handle of a dagger buried to the hilt there. She struggled to push air from her lungs through the shock that left her chest frozen. "J-... Jackie?" The words came slow and wheezing as she watched dark red begin to spread from the spot.

"I'm sorry…" Jackie whispered, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Hush, Jacks…"

'That voice…' It was older, deeper than she remembered, but she still recognized it despite the intervening years. It was almost enough to take Janna's mind off the pain. A dark ripple next to Jackie, and the familiar form of Adam materialized in front of her. He was older, appearing to be an age he'd never reached in life, but there was no mistaking it. His face was next to Jackie's, one hand perched on her shoulder as he flashed Janna an easy smile. She followed his gaze, seeing now the other hand as it curled around Jackie's trembling wrist.

Of course it had been a trap, she scolded herself. Jackie didn't have any way to fight this demon, and in the scramble to escape Brittany, she'd forgotten that crucial fact. She'd never have been able to escape him on her own. He'd wanted her to rescue Jackie. "Y-You wanted this," she hissed.

"Bingo." Adam's smile deepened into a predatory leer. "Can you excuse us for a second? I just wanna have a private chat with Janna here," he added, smirking as Jackie's eyes rolled up before she collapsed to the ground. Janna wobbled on her feet as the dagger in her chest lurched, until Adam stepped forward to stabilize her. "Jeez, look at ya, always getting into scraps for some attention. Here, lemme help you out there, Jan-Jan-"

"Don't," interrupted Janna, pushing off of him despite the pain in her shoulder making her want to throw up. "Just. Don't." Indignant rage had boiled up inside the second he'd touched her and she worked to steady herself as she stood tall. Reaching up, she winced as she felt at the spot where the dagger in her chest was leaking hot blood over her fingertips at an alarming rate. "You have theballs to wear the face of my dead friend while you pretend to help? You might look like Adam–" She wobbled, her legs feeling weak. "You might sound like him too. Hell, you might even have his memories… But you are nothing like him!" she spat, hurling her words like a weapon. She swallowed hard as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "The real Adam was kind and cool. He was the first person to ever think I was anything more than just the 'weird girl' in elementary school, and he always looked out for his friends. A piece of shit like you couldn't hope to mimic that."

A languid silence stretched between them as Adam regarded her before letting out a sigh of resignation. "Mortals are so easily duped by parlor tricks. Poor Jackie here was only too ready to believe her penance had come, but if my appearance disturbs you? All the better." Adam's eyes flashed a baleful yellow as his cheek disintegrated, exposing the black, needle-sharp teeth underneath. Reaching out, he gingerly laid a finger on the pommel of the dagger, shaking his head. "That looks serious, Jan-Jan. I can smell the blood from here."

"If you're going to kill me, just hurry up and do it already. I'm full up on villain monologues for the year."

Adam's composure slipped just a smidge at her words, and she gave him a gallows grin as his brow wrinkled at her defiance. "I could kill you. I…should kill you… Your petulant defiance of me was offense enough to warrant your end. But it's been such a long time since I had any mortals to play with. Perhaps, if you don't want to play anymore–" Janna had to bite her cheek to keep from crying out as he grasped the handle of the knife and rocked it gently side to side. "I can always keep playing with Jackie if you're not interested." He made to kneel, his other hand reaching out to run the back of a hand against the unconscious teen's cheek.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Janna shouted, fighting through the pain as panic rose inside her. "I summoned you, I started all this! This is about you, and me!"

"Oh, it's so much more than that now…" Adam straightened and turned back to her, a pitying expression on his face. "Her, Marco, Star, Echo Creek, the Mewmans… So many you have offered me." Slowly, carefully even, Janna felt the blade being slid from her body. Expecting to scream in agony as it pulled free, she could only watch in mute fascination as the blood-streaked steel backed out of her. Cold numbness was radiating down its length to wash away the pain she should have been feeling. "Not since the ages before the mewmans has a mortal made me question. Were I a slave to my baser instincts as some of my brethren are, I would pluck your heart from your chest. But instead, I'm going to give you a gift in return for your offerings." The dagger slipped free, and a fresh gout of crimson followed.

Janna's head was swimming, and she didn't resist as Adam pressed his palm against her chest wound. Visions flashed before her eyes: Echo Creek Academy on fire, great orange tongues of flame licking up at the night sky through shattered windows; An intersection with multiple crashed and overturned cars, several bodies strewn out on the street nearby; the faces of people she knew and cared about lying bloodied and cold on a coroner's table. It was too much. She couldn't endure it any longer. With every ounce of willpower she possessed, she forced herself back, breaking the connection. Stumbling, she didn't even notice she'd fallen as she never broke eye contact with him. Her vision was starting to shimmer and fade at the edges, ice seeming to spread from the spot where he'd had his hand pressed. She tried to speak, but couldn't find words as he took in a deep breath, savoring her flagging will, drawing on her fear.

"You will live to see everyone and everything you care about taken from you, Janna Ordonia. I'll even save poor Jackie here for last. Now rest, there are so many fresh horrors awaiting you." Fighting through the fog that was rapidly overtaking her mind, Janna could only look down and see that the deep wound in her chest was gone, replaced with an ugly blue bruise that faded to almost black in the center. She let a slow breath escape her lips, watched it curl into frost, and let the darkness take her.

As the last rays of dusk's light were swept away by tenebrous clouds, a torrential rain swelled from above. Raindrops pelted the stone cliffside, sending cascades of icy water tumbling down the rocks to join into freezing showers. The gale did little to chase away the typhoon, only sending the rain into angry, stinging flurries as thunder shook the mountain. But anger was a sentiment that stood fast in the face of Mother Nature, and it did well to banish the biting cold.

Star held her position on the escarpment, her hands hooked into jutting stones as she waited, drenched with rain that washed away the sweat and grime of two days of travel. It was the closest thing to a bath she'd had since they'd gotten here, and it would almost be enjoyable if it hadn't been for the biting cold. Penelope sat perched above her, her speed grinding their descent to a halt for minutes at a time. Not that it was her fault.

After the wolf attack, they'd set out with grudging cooperation at best, and spiteful shouting matches at worst. Shouting matches that always drew attention. Attention that always led to fights with the locals. Fights that only slowed them down. Rinse. And repeat. Eventually, they agreed that rather than let their pace be handicapped by their disagreements and infighting, they'd keep quiet. Avoid confrontation. If neither said a word, then they wouldn't need to stop every hour to battle some nightmarish horde of monstrous automata drawn by the noise.

But resentment bit deeper than the freezing wind and stung far worse than the pelting rain. It was a numbness that stole the feeling of everything but emptiness. And both of them knew it.

Something would eventually give, and while the prospect of making progress on their cremated friendship was inviting, Star had given up on such lofty goals for now. She was too numb to everything to try, and as two days went by that numbness seemed to only entrench itself deeper and deeper in her chest. The time for grievances and discussion was over. The mission was her only priority. They needed to keep heading east. If east even was still east.

The compass spell she'd been using since the attack had proven…unreliable. It was a toss in the air on whether or not it was pointing in the right direction unless she sat down and focused on…Marco. A bastion against the storm raging inside her, the thought of spending a warm night with his arms wrapped around her was always enough to push back that numbness and give her an ounce of magic. And the map? After the purple mist had swallowed the valley, the terrain and landmarks had shifted subtly. It took even more focus and commitment to keep a similar path towards the village.

As Penelope got within four feet of Star, she stopped to wait for her counterpart to descend further down the cliff. The pain in her ankle was screaming by now, aggravated by the steep terrain. But safety and conscience would keep her from falling. She waited as Star took position twenty feet lower, acting as a safety net should she fall. A contingency she would have to accept despite herself. It had been two days since that vision in the geode. And the sight of those two still remained, burned into her mind like a branding iron. Marco would get his due, as would Star, but for now it was shelved along with the rest of her grievances. And so she'd held her tongue, more interested in surviving this nightmare than her vendetta. The only conversation she'd allowed had been work-related, and a scattered few sentences sprinkled over two days.

At first, it had been infuriating. So much anger and animosity, but no outlet to set free the physical pressure boiling in her chest. Then, she found it enjoyable, not having to hear the tumultuous babble that came from Star over any minor excitement. For once, she wasn't chained at the hip to some happy-go-lucky harlot skipping through life without a simple thought between her ears. However, since yesterday, that enjoyment waned into hollow annoyance.

Rarely did Penelope Spiderbite have to hold her tongue in the face of someone as infuriating as Star. She always spoke out against those who acted so simple and guiltless. But now, as she waited for any and every excuse to so justifiably tear her to pieces, she was given nothing. The blonde had taken on a facade of stoic resolve like she was the one putting her grievances aside to act as the penitent prisoner. Like she had any reason to be angry; like that numb, blank expression was the fault of anyone but herself. 'No,' thought Penelope, her jaw set in mute rage, 'she doesn't get to act like she's above all the chaos she created.

Too lost in thought, Penelope hadn't noticed the particularly thick patch of moss hanging from the rock she'd reached for. It tore free of the stone and with it, her grip. She gasped as her right hand slid into empty air, leaving her dangling with a faltering grasp of the cliff in her left hand. She made to scream for help when she heard loose stones tumbling from below.

Star had thrown herself upward immediately, letting a small avalanche fall in her wake. She hooked onto stone and swung around Penelope, kicking off to climb higher until she sat perched just above her; all before the first rocks had even hit the bottom. She let go with her right hand and dangled for better reach, her left outstretched for Penelope. But as the precious seconds ticked by, her resolve twisted towards a grimace.

Not even a word. Nothing. Penelope stared at that saving grace of a hand. That bitch didn't even have the temerity to gloat, apologize, or even make a demand. "You could fucking say something, asshole!" Star made no expression to show she cared, much less that she would acquiesce. Infuriated, Penelope reached to grab her hand–

The rock suddenly gave way with a scraping rasp.

For a split second, the falling rain didn't matter. It slowed to a crawl as Penelope fell, the cliff stretching up and away from her as she stared up. At Star. The last thing she saw was the princess of Mewni staring back with that same blank expression. The cliff began to tumble, the falling rain began to slow and draw even as she gained speed to match. Penelope braced herself for either the end or a miracle, whichever the universe would decide she deserved. Evidently, it would be the latter.

A glimmering sheen of pink enveloped her in a sphere seconds before she hit the bottom of the gorge. She bounced with the violent deceleration, gritting her teeth to keep from biting off her tongue upon impact. Her ankle flared with fresh agony as the ball rolled to a stop. Staccato rain drummed against the outside of the shield, sending cascading ripples across its surface like a pond.

Just as she made to right herself, the magic dissipated. Penelope smacked facedown into the muddy river. She planted her hands into the muck and forced herself upright, gasping for air and collecting whatever decency she could muster.

Star dropped from high above, her boots slamming into the mud and sending a tidal wave of scum to crest over Penelope. She stood straight, eying their surroundings with the same numb apathy she'd cultivated over the last two days. She pulled the crutch from her back, tossing it to Penelope and marching towards the mouth of the gorge. "You're fine. It's only a little farther 'til the forests, then we can stop and wait the rain out." Before Penelope could berate her carelessness, another rumble shook the sky. High above the blanket of rain and the dark anvils of the clouds, deep red cracks snaked closer toward the horizon like lethargic streaks of lightning. Star inclined her head towards the cliffs, her voice like cold and clear glass. "Unless you wanna think some more." She set off towards the northeast without another word.

Penelope muttered obscenities as she wiped the foulness from her face, struggling to brace herself against the crutch. Could someone have a sprained ankle on top of a broken one? It sure fucking felt like it. Knowing their destination held a fire and shelter, she knew better than to argue. Star had saved her life, again, and she didn't even have the decency to gloat about it. Star didn't need to climb, she'd offered an easy ride down only to be refused. She'd suggested that Penelope use her vines to fasten a harness, only to be refused. She'd tried on that first day to extend an olive branch, only to be refused. Despite the pain, Penelope trudged forward, unwilling to submit even now.

An hour later, the two found themselves in what could charitably be declared a camp. Star busied herself with fashioning some logs and moss into a shelter, courtesy of her forced 'excursions' into the Mewman wilds with River. Penelope had made quick work of growing tree limbs and branches to cover their palty fire from the rain, reclining beside it to dry her hair. The camp sat twenty yards into the forest, obscured enough to hide the glow and structure from any prying eyes. It was just past twilight, and any hope of beating the storm to the village had died with Penelope's fall.

Penelope stared at the fire, wringing muddy twigs and water from her hair. Working in the vain hope of saving what little style remained in her locks, she let her mind wander from the rudimentary salon. She found herself thinking–for the millionth time that day, regardless of Star's prodding, about Marco. She was well past any desire of saving their crippled relationship, no matter how often plans of grandeur and groveling from the boy reared their ugly heads. No, there wasn't any possibility of salvaging that sabotaged shipwreck, she knew that much. What she really wanted was, ironically, to talk about it.

Knowing why was obvious, and it bore no promise of healing her, but closure was at least a salve for her wounded pride. She may not have been perfect, but who was? She'd at least fucking tried, unlike Marco. Galavanting off to hook up with Star the same day as her ultimatum. He was a smart guy, a sensible courtier, and he obviously cared deeply for everyone he knew. He had even been moved to turmoil after the death of a Monster who'd tried to kill him! 'So why,' Penelope couldn't help but grind her teeth at the notion, 'why didn't he care that much for me.'

The sound of crunching leaves drew her attention rapidly towards the treeline, but before she could panic, Penelope realized it was only Her. Star, the root cause of everything that had fallen apart in the last two months. She'd returned with two birch branches long enough for a snare trap, and that same stoic grimace upon her lips. Star immediately set to work binding the branches at the rim of their camp, ignoring the rumble in their stomachs. Even mere feet away, she could hardly feel the warmth of the flames.

Penelope did her best to avoid commenting on the futility of traps towards the game's automata, and made to turn her attention back to her hair. Another silent evening would do some good for her mental health, she mused, content to outlast her counterpart in a game of Trappist. That was until Star finally decided to open her mouth.

"Not a bad campsite," she hummed with a monotone sigh. She pulled back the switches and set them in a wooden stock. "Fire, shelter; we could be worse off. One time in the Forest of Certain Death my dad and I had to sleep in an ogre bear's nest after our shelter got trampled by wild warnicorns."

Penelope fought back a groan and stared at Star with all the subtlety of a freight train. "Was it worse than the bottom of a fucking ravine, in the freezing rain and dark?" She couldn't help but scoff with a derisive snort. "Oh yeah. Let me get in touch with the landlord."

It wasn't meant to be funny, but Star cracked a wry smile anyway. "I mean it stunk worse than my cousin Rock's bedroom when he hasn't showered since last Flag Day. She laid out a bed of moss and set her horns to peek out just along the rim. Sitting back to finally relax, she tossed Penelope a forced grin. "You could be dead, but here we are only wishing it for the other."

'What kind of– so it's like that then'. Surmising that that was Star's idea of being catty, Penelope couldn't resist the opportunity to get at least a little verbal dig in. Especially towards someone so deserving. "Had things gone your way, I'm sure you'd be doing more than wishing," she grumbled. "I wonder what your next conquest might be: a married man, an expecting father, maybe even a widower to really round yourself out."

Point, Penelope.

There it was. A heat in her chest for the first time in half a day. The only thing that gave her even a little bit of feeling, however negative. The numbness was abating as Star found less reason not to chase that high. "I don't do conquests. I can settle for rescuing my best friend from a snake, going on adventures, and tearing up the dance floor at the Bounce Lounge. Not that you'd know anything about having fun with him." Oh yeah, that'll piss her off.

Fighting back an eye twitch, Penelope nodded. "Oh, is that what you're calling 'adventures' now? Sneaking off to the bounce lounge with my boyfriend and fucking him like a whorish ogre? A whor-gre, if you will." She tossed her damp hair back and sat forward. An easy grin to match Star's was plastered across her face. She spoke with a coyness she knew would burn. "If we're, as Janna put it, 'comparing notes'? I'd give him a seven out of ten. Poor boy fumbled for every part of me he could get his thirsty hands on. And who could blame him? I mean, look at you."

There, for the faintest second, was a crack in Star's resolve. She almost smiled, there and gone as fast as a flicker of the campfire. But she held fast. "Marco's way better in the bed than a seven and you know it. I bet you rate every boy you lure into that husky den of yours a few notches lower." She leaned back, reclining against her log. "Probably 'cuz that's–goodness–half the M.R.C. by now? No wonder you started looking to date humans; you've already tried every dude with a pulse on Mewni."

Point, Star.

Penelope stared at her, slack-jawed and seething. "I'm surprised Marco could feel anything after all the foot traffic you get. Your guest list is probably longer than the Quest Buy Black Plague Day Sale line."

"Coming from the cheating bitch? You wouldn't know some solid dick even if you paid someone for it!"

"I'll take your word on that, considering you probably know everyone who'd answer that bounty on a first-name basis!"

"YOU DON'T-" Penelope started, but on instinct, she silenced herself. Star gave her an alarmed look to match her own. 'Too loud', they reasoned, an unseen understanding passing between them. She quietly cleared her throat and moved to match Star's reclined posture. "Just because I actually get laid doesn't make me a harlot. Because even if I do sleep with tons of guys? I never steal them."

Point, Penelope.

"Yeah," Star scoffed. "I bet you make sure to ask if they're taken riiiiiiiight after you spread your legs. And I didn't 'steal' him. I saved him from a heartless princess who couldn't be bothered to extend even a moment of genuine, human compassion when he needed it. He told me what you said that day when he got attacked in the M.R.C. You couldn't even empathize. And what's worse is that when he tried to make you understand, you didn't even try."

Penelope stared at her like it was the first time she'd heard about it. "You made your stable the moment you forgot that he was his own person, not just an accessory for your dress of the week. And for the record?" She caught her breath, daring herself to commit. "Don't hold one night over my head like you give a shit about him. Marco himself said he regretted sleeping with you. He said it–you–were the mistake."

Point, Star.

Penelope sat up fast and glared at Star, both of them aware that both had long since crossed whatever lines they'd set, spoken or otherwise. "Don't make the mistake of thinking my shortcomings are what lost me my boyfriend. You can have that tramp for all I care, but you know damn well youmade this mess." A fierce, throbbing pain crescendoed in her ankle, right on schedule. But she wouldn't yield to it yet. "You did this to me. It was your choices that ruined my relationship, and he let you. And soon enough, everyone's gonna know it."

Star, noticing the funny way Penelope was inclining her leg, sat up and positioned herself closer. "Yeah, whatever. Are you ready?"

Furious was an understatement, but Penelope had to concede. For now. Relying on Star was the last thing on any planet she wanted to do, but neither of them benefitted from having a choice. "Just get it over with," she nodded, setting her splint up on the log and leaning back. The second the first knot was undone from the vines and planks, she nearly screamed. It wasn't as bad as the first night, but rough travel over forest, cliffs, and icy streams hadn't exactly been conducive to healing. Even having a gorilla-like Star do the medicinal work hadn't made it worse.

Star was relieved to see her leg wasn't infected. But as she set to work tearing strips from her robes to replace the soiled bandages, she concluded that it would be a long recovery if they didn't get magical help soon. Healing spells were off the table for the moment, as not even the musings of her time spent with Marco could conjure the focus she needed. No, redressing was far safer, even if her disgruntled patient was a carbuncle she wished she could be rid of. She never said a word during the treatments, never asked for forgiveness, never rubbed it in. Nothing. The numbness was back, and despite her moderate efforts, she was still pissing Penelope off.

So maybe a change was in order. Silence hadn't yielded results, and playing Penelope's game hadn't either. Owning her mistake and wearing it like a shackle had earned the fastest shouting match, and witty retorts was just a tumultuous stream of nonsense. Logically, if nothing else worked, then there was nothing she could do, which led them to now. Neither of them were seemingly courageous enough to look at the other with anything besides spite and resentment.

"I wish I never met you." Penelope winced, desperate for anything to take her mind off her leg, even a verbal belt to bite down on. "To think I used to be friends with you. I–agh–thought we'd be friends our whole–oww–lives, until you fucked my boyfriend."

Unsurprisingly, Penelope's barb didn't bring back the feeling she'd been hunting for two days. The hollow void in the pit of her stomach wouldn't be so easily filled. Without looking up, Star couldn't help but agree. She rewrapped the torn strips of her robe over the thick, still oozing gashes with a sharp cinch. "Look, I'm not sorry I did it, but I am sorry you got hurt."

"So you've–hah–told me."

She had that coming, that much was fair. Perhaps a different angle then. "I'd have done it to anyone in the world if it meant I could have Marco. You got me there." She sighed, threading another bandage under the birch braces. "I'm just… I'm just sorry it had to be you. I'm doing this for him. I missed my chance once, and I don't plan on missing it again."

Penelope turned her head towards the fire, a far more comforting sight than the black and crimson sky above. "It's nice to know I was right about you. Everyone was. You're a screw-up, a liar, a cheater, and–ugh–and…" she floundered, unwilling to let the pain derail her. She knew her place in all this; just Star's latest victim in her scramble for self-gratification. She didn't deserve this. And every time she reminded herself, her eyes began to sting. She forced down the heat in her chest and bit back the tightness in her throat. "And I trusted you! I was one of your 'besties', one of the few nobles who didn't care that you were reckless, who loved how different you were, and how fun you could be. I was always on your side, getting into trouble with you, always in your corner when you got caught. And despite all that, despite everything I was for you, everything I thought I meant to you… you did this to me? You were–"

She stopped, as Star had. The future Queen of Mewni was staring at Penelope, the dark look in her eyes an equal mix of fear and guilt. Her words died halfway from her mouth as the seconds ticked by. Still staring, Star murmured, "I could never apologize enough for hurting you. I can't fix this… You didn't deserve this, Penelope. I just–the bond–everything just…" She floundered, wanting badly to use the excuse of the Blood Moon. If it was even real? If it had done something to them, forcing them together or otherwise? She could find a way to break the curse. Maybe somehow she could fix things. If she even wanted to fix things? But that's all it was. An excuse Penelope would never buy into.

"It was fate."

Penelope needed something, any sort of explanation she could try to believe. When it had come, of course, it had to be something so… Star. A nonsense little fantasy, that left her unsatisfied. The olive branch between them withered, along with any hope of reaching a common understanding. "You were never my friend. One boy stepped between us, and that was all it took for you to show your true colors." She winced as another knot was tightened. "People aren't going to forget, you know. I won't letthem. Everyone will remember you as the whore who saw a taken man and 'just couldn't help herself'. Every room you walk into? Every afternoon tea, you know, the ones you hate going to? People will already be talking about the 'Star Butterfly'."

The spirit of reconciliation gone, Star groaned and rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest, would you? What do you want from me, Penny?" She was practically begging through the venom in her words. "You want money? An apology? Servitude? You wanna beat me black and blue and never see me again? Tell me, what's it gonna take for you to just let it go? If he was really 'just one boy', you'd let me pay for it, make it up to you, anything to let me have him. I would give you anything you want if you just–" She was shouting without restraint and quieted herself as she let out a shuddering breath. "If you just let me have Marco."

Maybe it was the numb, desperatedelivery of the plea. Or perhaps it was the idea that her feelings could simply be bought off and removed as easily as the ugly rug from the foyer. Penelope ground her teeth through a pointed grimace, eager to get started with the only price she would accept. "You have nothing I want, least of all Marco. What I do want is to see you suffer, slut."

Star was too tired to have gotten her hopes up. An indignant shrug was her first answer. "Fine. Do your worst, I guess? Star-crossed lover's story, Romera and Julian, the tragedy of it all? Ruberiot might even write about it. Both my parents and his already love the idea of us, something you wouldn't know anything about."

White knuckled and seething, Penelope nodded to herself and grimaced through the pain. "We'll see how approving they are when they hear about every little detail you've been sheltering them from. How do you think your mom's going to react when she finds out you tricked her into letting us all come out here so you could steal Marco? I don't even care that I'm going down with you, she's never gonna let you see him again. Everyone's gonna wanna hear about how their perfect princess scampered around like a bitch in heat for any boy with big brown eyes and a 'be gentle with me' attitude."

Star paled at the mention of her mother's ideas of repercussions, but the bitter anger churning inside her allowed her to ignore that numbing vacuum. "We talked about that once, how I'd rather throw my crown in the garbage and run away with him than see him with a snake like you. Needless to say, he's alright with that. Because unlike you, I don't need flash and glamor to hide the worst parts of me. I don't hide behind a pretty tiara, a fancy dress, and a carriage full of arrogance. I won't lie and say I don't regret hurting you, but I've done worse than this. And unlike you, when Marco saw who I really was, he wasn't disgusted."

Point, Star.

Not a sound between them but the mocking crackle of the campfire in Penelope's ears. If Star was truly so content to live the rest of her life as an outed harlot, that was just as well. More room for her in the spotlight, more praise and consolation for poor, slighted, Princess Penelope. Her glare turned into a sanguine smirk, her lidded expression finally turned to Star as the last of her bindings were tightened. "Then I wonder… just how vulnerable Marco might be… to the same treatment," she all but purred. "I wonder what his friends would think if they knew what kinda guy he really was. I wonder what the nobles would do to him. A rake bedding their princesses and sauntering through the castle like some highborn lord. I wonder if some protective nobles might even call for his arrest for tarnishing their crown princesses's hono–"

*WHAM!*

An ivory fist slammed into her nose with all the brutish grace of a smith's hammer. An explosion of light burst in Penelope's vision as the back of her head bounced off the log. Struggling to reel her senses, the copper taste of blood against her lips and the back of her throat made her want to gag. She took to desperately cupping her bleeding nose as Star stood over her. Her wand was drawn in her left hand, its bulb glowing a fierce pink in the firelight, her eyes predatory and furious.

"Just don't." Star's words were calculating and quiet, no longer a simple warning. "Remember what I can do to people that piss me off. I've beaten the fudge out of monsters way less obnoxious than a mild inconvenience like you. Like you said: I did this. Make my life hell, make me suffer, take it out on me. But if you mess with Marco?" There was a cold promise in that voice, the numbness to her every word made one thing abundantly clear: some things were off limits. "Leave. Marco. Alone. Or next time? I'm gonna break a whole lot more than your nose, and I promise I'll be way less courteous."

Thankfully, her nose was just bleeding, not broken. But Penelope had better control of her emotions than Star. She didn't feel it necessary to correct her. She'd hold her tongue, for now. Marco may be off limits, but she'd get even, once they made it out of here. Which brought a semblance of equanimity to her situation. "You wanna know a good place to start fixing your mess?" Penelope sat back up, inclining her nose and wiping on some cleaner bandages. "Make sure we get the fuck out of here. I can't very well return the favor of ruining your life if I'm dead."

That brought back some clarity for Star. She still needed to find Marco. Reining in her temper and reminding herself that anything Penelope had to throw at her was redolent of a Fiesta de la Noche episode, she sat down hard. Penny was right, it was Moon she'd have to worry about. A few months to cool off might do more good than harm, and Marco had already shown himself more than willing to hide with her in another dimension. "The rules are still the same. Everyone knows to head for the village, and from there we can set out for the monster den to beat the game. We beat the game, then The Box shuts down. From what we've seen, the demon can't do much more than mess with the settings."

Penelope nodded. It wasn't foolproof, and there was no telling what would happen should they win. But it beat the snot out of waiting for a rescue. On that, they could finally agree. "I'm gonna enjoy a nice, long bath before anything else," she mused, reveling in the thought of a porcelain tub of foamy, hot water. "Then, I can deal with you."

From high above, another peal of thunder boomed not from the clouds, but from the snaking, blood-red fissure. It grew, inching just a little farther toward the horizon, cutting through the sky. A burning reminder that they had far bigger problems than petty teenage drama. Star rolled her eyes and leaned down to heft Penelope to her feet and move her to the only available spot to rest. Sleeping by the fire was warmer anyway, at least in theory. And quieter. "Just shut up and go to bed. We'll leave at first light if you're not too busy 'planning my downfall' or whatever."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Moon waited patiently a hundred yards from the looming hemisphere at the heart of Echo Creek Park. She had her entourage of royal knights in tow and had done her expected guest the further courtesy of removing the locals, lest they accuse her of dealing with supernatural evils and superstitions. There would be hours yet before any representatives of the "California" government arrived, so keeping the local officials in the dark was easy. Reynard had since returned from the royal archives, standing beside her with a dejected calmness in his eyes. He hadn't returned with good news.

A heat overtook the street as a wind hot as hellfire ripped down the avenue. A cyclone of flames erupted at the now vacant intersection to the tune of organs belting low calls like a funereal dirge. Scorching wind whipped up a dust devil of glowing embers that danced across the cracking asphalt. It buckled from below, splitting as it cratered to fall into a flaming pit that stretched from sidewalk to sidewalk. A massive pair of skeletal hands curled over a jagged lip, bony fingers digging into the surface as they strained to pull something up.

More of the skeletal construct revealed itself: its gargoyle-like face sweeping up as a bloody ribcage containing a massive iron maiden lifted into view. Moon's nose wrinkled when she spotted the multiple bloody corpses wrapped around its ribs like watches from a street vendor. With a creaking of desiccated sinew, the ribs swung open, dropping the bodies to splat like rotten fruit as it presented the iron Maiden's burnished surface.

Moon only tapped her foot, impatient for the shamelessly lurid display to end.

A long moan of protesting steel echoed down the street as the massive doors swung open to reveal a surprisingly well-appointed interior of carmine velvet. Dave sat inside at a beautifully carved oak table, sipping a martini. A choir of wet scraping heralded the reanimation of the decomposing corpses as they scrambled to form an unliving ramp. He set down his drink and stood, taking languid steps down the squelching bodies and squinting in the sunlight. He stopped at street level and frowned, meeting Moon's gaze.

"Wow. Moon, does it always reek of garbage in this dimension?" He sighed, rousing his cape and approaching the Mewmans with disdain likely not meant for them. He gave Moon a slight bow, then Reynard before they returned the gesture. "When I'd heard you left for a backwater planet, I didn't even think you would stoop as low as this."

Moon nodded, giving an automated response as she let his intentional rudeness wash over her like smoke. "Desperate times, and all that." She turned, gesturing to the bubble down the street. Dave eyed the abnormally captivating sight. "I had a hunch that you would be able to smell the demonic magic out here, but I had no idea you'd take so readily to the foulness of it. No offense."

Dave brushed it off, but before any of them could approach the object of fascination, Lady Whosits marched back and bowed her head towards the Queen. "My lady. Chief Briscoe is requesting an audience with you. He says it's urgent." Moon had no intention of meeting said request, so Lady Whosits added impatiently, "Someone by the name of 'Governor Gomez' is on the telephone, related to your dealings with our host nation."

Dave scoffed, eliciting a scorching glare from Moon. He apologized, rubbing his neck. "Forgive me. It's just… strange to see someone of your position, ingratiating yourself with beings far beneath your station. It must be maddening, having to deal with their petty rules and conductions without reminding them of how insignificant they are." Moon turned her gaze back to Whosits, but even her pride wasn't immune to such a low blow.

"Only when dealing with a select few of them do I wish I could resort to the barbarism found to be commonplace in your kingdom. But they have rules, and as their guest, it is my duty to respect them." When Dave didn't offer a witty comment in return, she softened slightly. "Tell them it will have to wait. I'll contact them once we've solved this little fiasco, and make sure the Governor knows as little about this as possible. Remind Birscoe of our arrangement with his 'mayor' and let him know our charitable donations to his precinct this month will be doubled."

"As you wish, my Queen."

At her departure, Moon gestured down the road, eager to dismiss the interruption as just that. The small party of three made their way towards the bubble, Reynard trailing behind. Dave stroked his chin and tried to look as uninterested as possible, but even he knew he wasn't doing a very good job. "I'll give you credit where it's due, this is indeed some old magic stinking up the place. Whatever or whoever made that was no amateur. I mean, Gods. I can practically taste it."

The bubble's surface rippled with an iridescent white, reflecting the sun's rays in cascading rainbows. Moon could feel that familiar itch in her fingers at just the memory of touching it. "I hit it with one of Eclipsa's spells that should have done the trick, however, it simply failed for reasons I have yet to discern. I'm not even sure the wand could stir it up enough to safely get inside."

"Then let's just take a little peek." They stopped a few feet from the rippling surface. Dave took another step closer, reaching out a tentative hand to hover just inches away. He closed his eyes, whispering softly as he focused. Reynard chanced a glance at Moon, whose piercing gaze never left Dave's hand. "Suppose this thing is self-sustaining, and suppose we can't portal inside…suppose what I found in the archives is true? What do you think he'll be able to accomplish?"

She didn't answer right away. Dave's eyes had since opened, glowing a soft orange in the afternoon sun. Embers wafted from his palm, and a heat began to radiate from him. "If nothing else? He can tell us whether or not we may have an enemy in our backyard that we hadn't even known about."

"And do you trust him?" he leaned in, whispering the question as lightly as he could.

No answer. Not even a twitch of her chin as she held herself motionless. That was a question she couldn't answer yet, he noticed. Reynard nodded to himself. If Moon couldn't, or wouldn't vouch for Dave's loyalty, he'd need to inform Star of a potential stinking involvement with The Underworld. The very idea that this could be another ploy of Tom's to secure his relationship with her made him nauseous.

"It's no wonder your little tricks couldn't scratch the surface," Dave muttered, drawing their attention back to him, the bubble, and his twitching hand. "I've quite literally seen nothing like this. It's difficult to explain, but there's far more than a simple 'park' in there. And there's more than just a handful of children, I assure you of that."

Moon's stomach dropped. 'What has my daughter gotten into now…' Deciding to deal with whatever scheme her daughter had concocted this time after the immediate crisis was resolved, she refocused. "So what can we do?"

Dave grimaced, digging his fingers just into the glimmering field. He twitched violently forward, not quite pulled, but convulsed as he sunk to the wrist. The once-white surface of the bubble began to take on a bottomless shade of purple that began to force its way into his arm. Moon took a step back as Reynard reached for the sword on his belt. Dave's hand caught fire, a deep red and black flame crawling down his forearm to push the purple back into the sphere. It stopped, and through grit teeth, he seethed, "More than just the one. Another…older…buried deep…fighting for control…" He gasped, opening his hand and reaching deeper. "I just need to see–can't through the haze–There you are!"

Blood-red flames trailed up his arm. Sweat was beginning to pool on his brow as his pulse pounded in his ear. Moon and Renyard stepped back as lashing waves of heat ripped at their exposed skin. Whatever he was grappling with, this was going too far. Dave didn't have the temperament, and perhaps even the ability to handle situations like this. If he lost his composure or the game of tug-of-war, the entire block would be cooked. Reynard turned to Moon, his expression frenzied. "I think it's time we pulled him–"

"I am King David Melvin Lucitor of The Underworld! And I command you to reveal yourself at–"

*BOOM!*

As a blinding flash and a thunderclap-like punch to the chest rolled over them, Moon shielded Reynard with magic and waited for the wave to pass. An explosion ripped the asphalt apart in a ten-foot radius and blasted Dave back another thirty. The bubble flashed a dark red and wailed in apparent alarm, but that was it. A little fire, some broken bits of street raining down, and a King resting in the crumpled remains of a bus stop.

Moon closed the gap in a heartbeat, clearing the debris and healing his cuts as she demanded, "What the hell was that? What happened to 'take a little peak'?"

Dave groaned, pulling a shard of glass from his arm. His eyes were wide and panicked, darting around before focusing on her. Reynard helped him to stand, bracing him up and easing him out of the bus stop. "It's not just one. Two entities fighting for control of that bubble, or at least, one of them is fighting to keep the other subdued." He shook his head, all three of them eying the surface of the bubble. It was once immaculate, but now its face was marred by a black handprint with blood-red cracks webbing from it. "Whatever controls that thing, it's very powerful. And the other entity… I can't even fathom that kind of strength. It's already kicked one that things legs out from under it. Now it's just leaning on the rest until it falls."

"But you were able to damage it, right?" Reynard asked, "look at the cracks, that has to be a mark of some progress!"

Dave smiled, a cold thing that didn't reach his eyes. It was fear and awe that gave him the expression, not contagious excitement from the young Viscount. "No, I'm afraid…that's not my handiwork. I was just looking in the right direction to see it happen. They noticed my prying and–" Dave mimed an explosion with both hands. "He didn't like it."

Moon marched a few paces closer to the bubble, her fists clenched." Then if we're dealing with a someone as well as a something, whoever is behind this has a motive, a weakness, and a limit." She didn't spare Dave a second glance, now that he wasn't broken. "And whatever it's against could be an ally. Is it possible that Star or Tom are behind that?"

Dave shook the dust and glass from his hair and cloak, conjuring a wall of flames to plume upwards and mend the torn fabric. "First things first, the being inside that bubble has an enemy. We may very well have two, so let's not make assumptions that could get them killed." The corpse attendants that made up his entourage moved to surround the bubble, keeping a safe distance. One additional ghoul came to offer him a boiling martini. "Now, you've likely recently familiarized yourself with my people's history with dubious intentions, so I'll spare you the history lesson. But there's powerful magic at play here, magic from before the Lucitor empire. Magic from before Mewni. Whoever is behind this stinks of magic carried only by Primordial demons."

A stunned silence. The two mewmans shared shocked stares at implications both spoken and otherwise. Dave nodded. "Apparently it was a short familiarization? Long ago, my predecessors locked away the most dangerous and powerful demons. They stole their energy, bound them, broke them, and sealed them far beneath the Underworld. How this backwater planet managed to free one is beyond me, but–"

"What do you mean 'freed' one? Are you telling me that one of those things is here?" Moon demanded. "How is that even possible? Hekapoo swore there was no other way to reach Earth…" She made a mental note to speak to the Master of Scissors about that particular little "loophole". "How did someone bring one to Earth and set it–" Her rant was derailed by a thunderous crack that shook the streets. All eyes turned towards the bubble, finding the fracture had spread just enough to notice.

Dave shrugged to himself and strode past Moon towards his coffin. And another drink. "You're guess is as good as mine. Perhaps the rulers of old weren't quite as clever as they thought, or perhaps this dirt ball has some secrets of its own." Handed another cocktail and already halfway through, Dave waved a lazy hand towards the fracture. "Unless you have access to demonic power beyond even mine, you'd better hope our mysterious friend takes care of it for us."

Moon bit her tongue to keep the retort she longed to hurl back in his face from flying, still aware of her position. She smoothed her dress and took on a facade of collected resolve. Her voice like glass, she asked, "And who do you suspect is helping us? Perhaps some of Toffee's forces are behind this, and are doing their best to escape?"

The Demon King snorted. "No, this doesn't seem his style. Nothing Toffee has is even-'' Realizing what he was giving away, Dave choked on his drink and pounded his chest before clearing his throat. "I- We… haven't seen Toffee wield anything quite so powerful. Not even your stolen trinket would be a fitting suspect. This is bigger than your little war."

Reynard nudged Moon. She looked over to find his expression alarmed and subdued. Her eyes were wide and flashed with a warning: now wasn't the time for this kind of talk.

At their silence, Dave strode over to his royal carriage. He watched the cracks widen with another thunderous rumble. "Do not touch that thing again. Whatever it was, the larger entity might not know that we're even on its side. It might not even be sentient. It could just be an elemental force that simply doesn't like being tampered with. We need to be careful before we get pulled into this mess any deeper than we already are."

Suddenly Moon was there, the overwhelming pressure of her magic nearly suffocating as it weighed in on him. She looked completely normal, utterly devoid of any of the transmorphic effects of the famous Butterfly Form. And yet he could taste the magic bitterness as her power ionized the air between them. He flinched, convulsing in fear that sent his martini flying. If she'd have wanted he'd be dead before the glass hit the pavement, three feet of helical magic through his chest. "My daughter. Your son. They're already 'deep in this mess.' Not to mention several of their friends. I expect you to put the welfare of our children first."

"Moon, I too share your concern about our children. And while I can't pin the blame on the usual suspect, I expect you to understand my position." As if by rare occasion, Dave shifted to meet Moon's intensity with a heat all his own. "And might I remind you that my son was invited to this…paddock. I wouldn't have expected that he be put in such mortal danger while on a social visit. We may be 'friends', but I assure you that if he isn't returned to me as he arrived…" He didn't need to finish the thought. It wasn't an empty threat, but it meant far less when issued to someone like Moon.

Over the crunch of broken glass, Dave turned, ignoring the rumbling fissure that spread across the bubble. His point made, he inclined his head as he climbed back into the luxury of his carriage. "They're at the heart of this, yet, we can't get to them. The best we can do is hope that they're smart enough to lie low until the storm passes." At Moon's silence, he added with flavorful derision, "In the meantime, I believe you have a human to answer to?"

With a scorching glare that would have petrified him any other day, Moon nodded wordlessly before turning away. 'If you knew anything about my daughter, you'd know 'lying low' wasn't something she was capable of. No,' she shook her head, Star would be the one to end this, one way or another.