Abel let out a sigh as he left the church. So much to do, so little time. He had a plan to deal with the star. He's always had plans for such things—things that could become detrimental in the future. It was always like a little game to him. 'What if'?

What if his decisions came back to haunt him; what if the people he surrounded himself with turned against him? What if everything he stood for—everything his very being defined betrayed him? He had plans for such scenarios, but for now, the first was the most relevant to him at the moment.

He looked up to see a great snow-white owl staring down upon him. Gold and sapphire eyes burrowing into him, heterochromatic. A familiar.

Abel gave a wave to it. It stared callously for a moment before flying off. Abel shrugged as he plopped himself against a wall in wait.

Subconsciously, he began to hum the tune that he began at the guild. That was his 'tell' of sorts, whenever he was in deep thought of a matter. He had never sung it so frequently before. Was this… anxiety? Was his humming a reflection of his disquietude?

A star has gone mad. It would be the very first time that he would kill a star. They were the most peaceful celestial beings in the universe. Though, that was entirely due to the circumstances of their own making. They confined themselves to themselves. Pique, stellar isolation. They were never ones to mingle with the politics and prose of the cosmos. They did not care if the core of a planet detonated, or if one of their own had swirled into a black hole and sapped the light out of a nearby sun. Apathetic, just like the space around them.

Of course, this could change. Especially if madness were to be involved. Oh, sweet memories. Where did it all go wrong?

"Pardon, but are you the one that Ouranos has told me about?"

Abel stopped his tune and turned to see a cloaked figure emerge from the shadows of a nearby alley. His voice was warbled and his frame was tall and slender, boney even.

"Well that depends," Abel replied with a sly grin. "What exactly did your god tell you?"

"I was told to meet with someone who foretold of a great calamity. That they would need my assistance in stopping it."

The figure paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"I was also told that their orders were absolute—that they reigned over the gods' power."

The words left a bitter taste of blasphemy in Fels' mouth. They felt alien upon his tongue (or whatever was the equivalent for a skeleton). When he first heard it from Ouranos, he simply could not believe it. It contradicted everything. The words were spoken from a god, a wise one at that, and yet, it shook and crippled the very basis of godhood. A god was a god, the highest form of power—divinity.

Nothing succeeded it… right?

Fels paused for a moment. Saying the words aloud had shaken him. Despite his best attempt to make the words nothing more than a combination of letters strewn about to form a means of communication, they still struck a chord within him. He refocused himself.

"Oh, and I was told they were rather tongue and cheek."

"Check and check, rude, but check. Ding-ding-ding! That'd be me. Guilty as charged."

Abel casually approached the figure.

"As much as I would love for you to go on and on about me, we're rather pressed for time."

He could feel it. In the deepest regions of space. He could feel the madness—he could feel the death it brought.

"I need access to your plethora of magical items and cursed possessions you've collected both in your time spent alive and now."

Fels was taken aback by the comment. Alive? When was the last time he was referred to as such? Nevertheless, he refocused his mind back on the conversation.

"In particular, I need your crystal ball."

Oh, that? As cliche as it was, he did in fact once sequester a crystal ball from a witch decades ago. Course, the spiteful hag had to do something to it prior to handing it off. Fels hadn't been able to get it to work for all the years he had it.

He won it, dammit! Fair and square.

He wasn't even sure of the reason as to why he still kept it. It wasn't for its magical properties, or the uses he got from it, that was certain.

"Very well, follow me."

"Lead the way."

.

.

.

They two made their way to his supposed shop through the vast magical tunnels that ran secretly beneath Orario. Couldn't have a cloaked skeleton running about on the city streets. And there was absolutely no way he was going to travel by the sewer system.

Fels knew the labyrinth below the city like the back of his hand. Though, while he was not the one who had constructed it, he had the honor of infusing the walls with magic, virtually claiming partial ownership. He felt a hint of pride as Abel traced the wall lightly with his finger, seeing it seemingly light ablaze to trace out a streak of cyan magic.

The two traveled in comfortable silence. Fels didn't want to break it by asking questions. He wanted to. He wasn't entirely sure as to why he didn't ask.

Courtesy? Fear? Or was it simply because there were too many questions to ask.

After a short while, Fels stopped at a wall and placed his hand on it. His hand glowed a green, luminous hue as the stone began to shift at his command. The wall began to rise, shooting out a gust of dust from beneath it. As it continued to rise, it revealed a set of stairs.

"Not shabby. Not too shabby at all," Abel commented.

Fels began to ascend the stairs, and Abel followed suit. As the two made their way halfway up the flight of steps, the wall behind them began to groan and grind as it closed behind the pair. The labyrinth sealing itself once again.

.

.

.

The pair had arrived at the shop with little to no incident. Fels showed him around the various isles, each shelf cataloging items based upon their magical properties. However, what Abel was looking for was not for sale. Fels took him to the back room to show him the over set of miscellaneous trinkets that were dysfunctional for lack of a better term. It was best that they stayed out of reach, and out of mind.

There, the two spent the next thirty minutes sifting through boxes of items in search of the crystal ball.

"Hmm, surprised we haven't run into another skeleton in this closet."

Fels shot a glare at Abel at the cheap joke. But as he did so, he caught him in the act of casually hucking a plastic play doll behind him, as if it were but a mere ordinary toy. Fels immediately reacted, lunging forward onto his stomach, and catching it mere inches from the ground.

"Hah. Hah. Do you have any idea what would have happened if this were to crack?!" Fels shrieked.

Abel shrugged.

"Sure. It would release the demon Malthus upon us, and he would devore our souls, and drag us straight to hell for us to be tortured for all of eternity! Well, your soul, that is."

Fels couldn't believe it. He said it so casually! Ouranos told him that the orders of the Mythic were absolute, but this was getting ridiculous!

Picking himself up from the ground, Fels turned the doll around in his boney hands to ensure that it had indeed not been so much as scratched.

Abel raised a brow for a moment before chuckling.

"Hm hm hm. Don't worry, the doll is completely fine. And if it wasn't, you wouldn't be in any danger. That doll doesn't actually house Malthus."

Fels ceased his perusal and looked at Abel.

What…?

"Tell me Fels," Abel began. "What exactly are magical items or cursed possessions?"

Abel bent down to pick up a grimoire. Its texts had long since been sapped from its pages to foster and nurture in a mortal's soul to increase his or her magical prowess.

"Or rather, why would anyone want to lie about an item being cursed?"

Fels felt himself hesitate upon answering the question. It had an answer, but he couldn't help but hold it back in the presence of Abel. He felt like a schoolboy being brought in front of a class to solve a problem on a chalkboard. And Abel was the teacher, waiting patiently with a smile that tittered between satisfaction and disappointment.

"I suppose it's because they didn't want to give away that kind of power. They wanted to keep it for themselves."

The tone at the end of Fels' sentence betrayed his own sense of self-doubt. Abel smirked.

"Correct! Well, half, that is."

If Fels had eyebrows, they would be raised.

"You'd be right in saying that there are many of those who would simply never relinquish that sort of power so easily. However, that's under the presumption that these so-called 'magical items' have power in them in the first place."

Abel tossed about the lifeless grimoire in his hand.

Hmm. To tell the truth or not to tell the truth. Would it be better for them to live the lie, or for it all to come crashing down? Decisions, decisions. Oh well. Maybe a peep would be alright.

He looked at Fels, his childish demeanor shedding before the sage's eyes.

"As thanks for your assistance, I guess I can give you a glimpse of the truth this universe so dearly guards in regards to magic."

His voice became indescribably authoritative. His vocal cords shifted in his throat, creating a low, reverberated tone that sent shivers down Fels' spine. This was a Mythic—this was Madness speaking.

"You humans are so naive, so heedless, so fearful. The moment that you were born from the dirt of Genkai, you uncurled yourselves from your fetal position, and looked up at the night sky. You stared up at the universe; at the cold, uncaring, indifferent, impenetrable nothingness—the default state of all that surrounded you. And before you even knew you could make noise with your mouth, you cried out in terror. You felt so small, so fragile, so vulnerable. And everything around you felt new, exotic—minacious. The stars and the crescent moon bore witness to your madness, as did I."

A wicked smile curled itself on Abel's face as he continued.

"Your own imagination—your greatest weapon, and your greatest curse."

Fels could only stare in awe, his mind flashing to images of Abel's story as if he had supplanted his own memories into Fels'. He could see it. A humanoid figure cloaked in the shadow of the first night hyperventilating before suddenly screaming out. The wails went on and on, echoing in Fels' mind.

"Anything and everything was out to harm you. That was the first thought that came to your mind when you could no longer scream. And the gods, your parental patrons? They were too busy indulging in meaningless debates, affairs, and carnal pleasures with one another to notice you as you groveled in the dirt and your fear."

The utter fear in their eyes. It was a look that Madness would never forget. Such palpable, delicious fear.

"But eventually, this fear took on a new meaning, manifesting itself into reverence. You worshiped the indescribable, the unexplainable. Miracles became a way of life. In those times, you made gods and venerated them."

Abel bent over, casually using his finger to brush aside a few more trinkets that were sprawled out on the floor.

"Hm hm hm. Ironic, isn't it? You're so controlling now, especially of your own creations, your own ambitions. But back then, your creations controlled you, and every little thing you did."

He paused as his finger struck something cold, spherical.

"But the gods eventually became jealous. Frankly, I don't blame them. Imagine being ousted by a calf that just so happened to be gold."

Fels let out a small, half-chuckle at that.

"And so they intervened, supplanting in your minds the notion that there is power locked deep inside the soul. It needed only to be evoked. A power that would change your lives forever. And thus, magic was born."

Abel stood up, holding the crystal ball the two had been looking for. Clouds of dust clung onto it so as to not wind up on the floor, a reflection of its unloved treatment by Fels. Using his elbow, Abel began rubbing the ball to try and clean it.

"Magic is the art and expression of belief. You no longer made gods. Instead, you looked to yourselves, and sought the strength necessary to survive from within your souls. You alone were enough to suffice against the world's horrors. No one else. Nothing else. You need only to believe it."

Abel brought up the crystal ball to his face. He exhaled deeply on it, fogging up the glass before he resumed cleaning it.

"Of course, this led to hubris and rather…unseemly results. But to the gods, it was far better than letting you worship petty statues and objects. To them, it was as though it made you more akin to your heavenly parents—arrogant and prideful, practically to a fault."

Fels stared down at the floor. That comment made him rather numb. Has his respect to the gods, to Ouranos, been misplaced?

No… if it wasn't for them then he wouldn't have magic, he wouldn't be the sage… he wouldn't still be alive. But even still, he felt weary of it all.

"As for me," Abel said, giving a few quick glances at the ball to double-check it was as clean as it could be.

Still some smudge marks. Eh, he tried.

"I simply viewed it as just another stage of your evolution. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Abel's voice seemingly flipped back to his more peppy-pitched tone. He smiled at Fels, finding his natural confusion to be somewhat amusing.

"When—what—why was this forgotten? Why is it that only you and the gods remember? Why can't we?"

Abel chuckled.

"Funny you say that, the gods don't remember."

Fels could only respond with a blank stare.

"But… but… why?"

"That's just how it is. To them, it was little more than a whim of a passing idea."

Abel stared at the newly shined crystal for a moment before suddenly smashing it into countless shards on the floor.

Still stuck in his stupor, Fels couldn't process the sound of the glass shattering, and the bits flying about in a small splash pattern.

Abel bent over and began to nick-pick at the pieces. He began humming to himself before he spotted the perfect piece. Not too long, not too short, and just sharp enough.

"The universe has many principles. One of which is that it acts like a ticking timer. Whenever certain events were to transpire to cause you to advance in your development, the universe takes note and will catalog it before wiping the slate clean. While you may retain these radical, evolutionary ideas, you will forget how this idea came into fruition. A reset of the timer, if you would."

He leaned left and right, carefully studying the facet that he delicately held between his index finger and thumb.

"For instance, who invented the wheel? Who was the first to commit murder among your kind? Who cast the first magical spell?"

Fels couldn't answer. There was no answer. Despite humans always seemingly documenting their lives, and their achievements, through carvings on walls to ink patterns on parchment, none such thing was ever recorded. They simply had forgotten.

"Simply put, you can't remember. There are certain things in the past that cannot be permitted to seep into the present. Rules are rules. Even though I may not be a stickler for them, I still understand their necessity."

"Then… I'm sorry, but, how does this pertain to magical items?" Fels asked.

"Despite your newfound resolve within yourselves, you're still quite the superstitious bunch. There's always that little irk in your head; a voice, warning you, frightening you, making you weary of the unknown and unexplainable. And others preyed upon this and fed you lies to keep you docile, never making you forget the fear you felt when you were born."

Using his nail, Abel scratched off the last bit of dust that clung onto the glass shard.

"Cheques and balances, the way the universe designed it."

Fels looked wearily at the doll he held so precariously in his hand. He didn't know how to feel. His mind was still dazed as it tried to process the truth. The cold was all that came to mind. Everything, everything he had ever learned during his time on Genkai, all of it was brought into question. He felt as though his entire existence flashed in his mind. His knowledge. It would be forgotten in a few decades. His name was erased from the annals of history. Another reset.

He was about to ask another question but abruptly stopped, seeing Abel placing the shard inside his mouth.

"Wha—what are you doing?!" Fels cried out.

"Whaf?" Abel casually said, balancing the shard on his tongue that hung out of his mouth as he spoke. "Ethss ess haaw eet weirks. Eh ohoot ike eess eheh ore ehn oo doo. (This is how it works. I don't like this any more than you do.)"

"Wha—it—huh…?" Fels stuttered out. Yet again, he was at a complete loss for words.

Without missing a beat, Abel swallowed the shard. Fels could only stare complete gobsmacked as Abel crossed his arms and began tapping his finger on his bicep.

"One bottle pop, two bottle pop, three bottle pop, four bottle pop, five bottle pop, six bottle pop, seven bottle pop pop," Abel began singing. "Alright. That should be time. Now for the unfun part."

Abel slammed his fist into his gut. Immediately, Abel began hurling his stomach contents onto the floor—an disturbing volume of fluid gushing out from his mouth. At first, Fels thought it was blood. Until he took a closer look, noticing it to be black in color and more viscous in texture. Fels was about to intervene, but Abel brought up his hand, stopping him in his tracks. After a few moments, the cascade from Abel's mouth began to subside until only small droplets fell from his mouth. He wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hind before mustering a weak smile to Fels.

"I would be sorry for the mess, but that hurt… a lot…"

He bent down over the small pool he had made, and in the center was the glass shard.

"Jezebele. Come on out."

A tangled mess of hair began to rise from the pool. Soon, a forehead emerged, pale and anemic. A nose, and a mouth followed. The bangs that seemingly resembled tentacles hung over the figure's eyes. Fels averted his own. He was thankful that his hood cast a shadow over the entirety of his face. He could barely mask his visible fear.

"Oh," a sweet feminine voice muttered. "If it isn't Abel. What might you be doing, summoning me at this time of day?"

"I normally wouldn't, but given the circumstances, I was forced to."

"Awe, you don't seem happy to see me."

"No, I'm not. Sharing a witch's company is never a good sign."

A hand came out from the pool, grabbing onto the glass shard.

"What is it that you seek, Madness?"

"I wish to know where the star is—the one that has gone mad."

"Do you not remember where you left it?"

"No. I blocked it from my memory."

He wanted to normalize the star as much as possible. But it was like fitting a puzzle piece into a set that bore a different picture. Even still, he tried to make it fit in as much as possible. The less interaction from him, the better. He wouldn't be tempted to see it, to check up on it. A double-edged sword.

"Hmmmm."

Jezebele began twirling the glass shard about in-between her fingers. She looked towards Fels. Despite her eyes being covered, he still felt her gaze upon him.

"And you, sage, what is it that you seek?"

Once again, Fels was caught in a stupor. Questions began to flood his mind. What did he seek? What was it that he sought for most in his life? Could he ask for multiple things? But before he could respond, Abel interjected.

"Your business is with me and me alone. Do not tempt him with your privy words."

"Tch. Very well."

She stopped spinning the shard in her hands. Instead, she brought it close to her face. She smiled as she examined it.

"Oh. A gift? Just for me? How flattering."

"Payment for your services."

"That's what I've always liked about you Abel. Ever the negotiator."

"Well, it has yet to fail me. Now, where is the star?"

She smiled as she placed the edge of the shard against her forearm. She made no reaction as she slid the edge beneath the epidermis, cutting into the layer of skin below it. It was like a chef peeling the skin of a piece of fruit. Fels cringed slightly at the sight of her self-mutilation. When she was finished, she placed the newly carved sheet of flesh onto the ink-soaked ground. Fels' eyes widened as he looked at it. The veins which the dermis housed had formed different constellations of the galaxy. Some, Fels had never seen before. Jezebele skittered her finger playfully on her own flesh.

"Hm, hm, hm, ah. Here. You'll find the star here."

She pointed to a small dot on the pseudo star chart. It was part of a constellation named, 'Ephesus'. It was barely visible to Fels' eyes, but the sight of it made Abel's agitation flare. Fels couldn't quite discern what emotions he was emanating, but nonetheless, it sent shivers down his spine.

"Hello, little wanderer. Hie thee home," Abel muttered.

Sensing that her map was no longer necessary, Jezebele tapped her index finger on it twice, causing it to melt into the puddle.

"When you get there, be careful as to not anger the other stars. They are far more finicky in that region of space."

"Hmm."

Having nothing more to give, and no charitable donations to receive, she began to recede back into the pool, shard in hand.

"Thank you for the advice, Jezebele." Abel called out before she disappeared from view. "You are too kind."

"Kind?" she thought as she sank back into the depths of the puddle. "If I were kind, I would have told you to avoid the child."

Seeing her figure vanish in her entirety, Abel held his hand out openly behind him.

"Mind if I borrow a knife?"

Fels' brain was seemingly put into auto-pilot. The words didn't register as he was still trying to grasp what had occurred. However, his body obeyed Abel's command, and he subconsciously began patting himself.

Knife, knife. Where did the knife go?

Abel chuckled at the sight of the sage so utterly dazed.

"Oh, nevermind. Seems like my kleptomania got the better of me earlier."

He casually reached into his jacket pocket to fish out the knife.

Using the knife's edge, Abel cut open his palm. He leaned down and placed his open wound on the surface of the puddle. Immediately, the ink began to be sucked into the wound. Drop by drop, it returned to its rightful place. As the last drop entered Abel's body, the ink formed a string-like pattern, forming a suitor, sealing his wound shut. Abel clapped his hands together, dusting himself off.

"Alright. That would conclude my business with you for the time being."

"...do you wish for me to accompany you?"

"No," Abel replied rather coldly. "Stars are already naturally reserved towards outsiders. These stars however are far more hostile."

He wasn't necessarily lying. But he hid the fact that he saw this as a form of self-punishment. His burden to bear, his folly to mend.

"Stay in the city. If things go arrie, the other me will need your assistance."

…the other him? Fels tilted his head slightly in confusion. Abel laughed yet again.

"You'll find him at the orphanage on Daedalus street. He's currently with my brother."

Once again, so many questions, but Fels held his tongue.

"Very well."

Fels courteously bowed like the proper proxy that he was, dutiful and tractable. Abel smirked before grasping onto the bandages that wrapped around his right forearm.

"Oh, and one more thing."

He turned and looked at Fels with a smile but his eyes held a grave glare.

"Keep our conversation a secret, would you? Think of it as… a closed transaction of knowledge."

Fels nodded obediently. He wouldn't dare go against Abel's words. He wouldn't dare discover what it meant to be outside the graces of a Mythic.

With nothing more to say, Abel let out a cool exhale of breath as he pried off the bandages.

"Time to go see a star."