Alex Mercer was drowning. Everything had been going so well with Angelique and the little girl. Everything had been going perfectly. He supposed he should have seen it as a sign of impending disaster. Alex Mercer simply couldn't be lucky, not for too long.

In a way, it would have been comforting to tell himself he should have known, that he could have avoided this. He supposed it was worse, but in any case, he didn't understand what had happened. In truth, he understood almost nothing.

Why had he been so willing to lash out at Angelique's parents? They were monsters in human skin, more monstrous than him, much more, and they didn't deserve to be called parents. But what she had told him… that she had only wanted them dead, nothing more, that suffering was unnecessary… Alex couldn't say she was wrong.

The torture hadn't benefited Angelique or the world in any way. The result was the same, after all: eliminating the problem. But the details had been just for fun, because he had enjoyed unleashing his abilities against a monster like that. Monsters worse than him. Justified, acceptable targets. Only not so acceptable, not for her, he thought.

But in any case… Alex put his hands to his head. In any case, he wasn't like that, right?

Since he had woken up in that morgue, confused and disoriented, without memories, not knowing who he really was or where he came from, he had been forced into violence. But he had never done things for fun, with a smile on his face. That simply wasn't him. Most importantly, he didn't believe it had been right. Right?

No. Yes.

Then why?

He couldn't find the answer, no matter how much he searched for it. He felt like his head was going to explode, that an uncontrolled surge of power was going to burst forth. And that wouldn't be good. It wouldn't be as safe, so to speak, as in the middle of a dead, practically empty Manhattan compared to normal. There, everyone who mattered knew him and was after his head.

Here he had anonymity. And, more importantly, a family. Or he had had one.

"Why this?" Alex said. "Did I ruin it? Did I ruin it, and for what? Why?"

He kept repeating himself, but he truly didn't understand. Alex leaned his back against the wall and slid down to the ground. He hid his head in his hands, in his hood too, because yes, he had a hood.

He was in his true form. Not Edmond's.

Who do you think you are? whispered a dark voice inside him.

Certainly not Edmond Dantes. Alex Mercer? That was just the first poor bastard you devoured.

If Alex Mercer wasn't the anchor, then Dana wasn't his sister. Just some random girl. The very thought was devastating. But, on the other hand, didn't that mean he could let go of the guilt and the burden that suffocated him every second he stayed away from her? Every second he could have spent trying to save her.

No.

No.

Those thoughts were far more horrifying than what he had done in that room. Dana Mercer was his sister, whether he was Alex or not, and he was…

Who?

The Blackwatch soldiers you devoured? The innocents who died screaming, begging for mercy? The monsters you tore apart?

Was there something at the center? A core? A spark? Something human? Even if he couldn't name it.

Was there? Did there have to be?

Or was he just confusing his biological imperatives with a soul, with having his own consciousness, with feeling?

Alex threw himself into the waters of a nearby river. And, of course, he was expelled. He immediately found himself flying backward. His biomass fluttered, agitated, before returning to its position.

Dirty. Impure. Impossible to wash clean.

—

Cattleya was very scared.

Cattleya had no idea where she was. She remembered the fear, above all, the feeling that the whole world was against her, coming to crush her, to wipe her off the map without mercy.

It wasn't a strange feeling for her. Since she had found out she was deeply ill, she hadn't been able to help but feel that the whole world was her enemy.

It was natural to think that way.

Saint Brimir, or some other being, had arranged a fate of slow agony, incapacitation, and death for her before she was even born. He had arbitrarily and cruelly set a limit to her life, to her dreams. An incurable disease dragged her down every day of her life, every moment.

Therefore, consciously or unconsciously, she considered the world her enemy.

Cattleya had always been a pale, fragile girl. A child appearing alive rather than truly living.

And nothing had changed. Nothing. Oh, yes.

Yes, she felt different, actually. She felt larger than life. She felt healthy, though not safe. That's why she continued curling up on herself, building defenses around herself against a hostile world she had never been able to understand and in which she had never been able to fit due to her birthright.

It wasn't her decision to throw in the towel, to stop expecting more from life. Certainly not. Actually, even her way of perceiving the world had changed. She could hear, touch, and taste much more.

No, not taste. Not yet. Not yet.

When, then? Taste what? Human flesh? What? Saint Brimir. No, that was inhuman. That was inappropriate.

Everything you see from here was nothing but food.

Cattleya saw many things. She was very high up. It was a bird's-eye view. She had no idea how she had gotten so high or how, by the way, how on earth she had gotten there.

A dream. No, a nightmare.

All this must be a nightmare, right?

Human flesh.

I'm hungry. I'm very hungry.

She felt healthy, whole, for the first time since she was born. No, for the first time since her first attack. When the world rubbed her fragility, her helplessness, her uselessness in her face.

Now she felt like that. Now.

But she wasn't healthy. She wasn't. Something bad remained. Something that was corroding her from within. Something like poison.

"I'm thirsty. I'm thirsty too. Damn it, what I would do for a drop of blood."

Liters and liters of blood. Enough to quench thousands of thirsty throats. Just a little, a little blood. Just a few thousand liters.

"No, no, no, no. No."

She didn't know what was going on in her damned head. She was better than this.

She was better than a useless person bedridden, condemned to look out the window while the rest of the world grew and moved away from her. While everyone left her behind like a relic of the past.

A past in which she was happy. In which she was a real girl. A human being.

We can fix this, she thought.

Her new limbs extended across the ground. She was going to have deeply rooted foundations, for a change. No one died in the process. No one would die.

That wasn't what was happening. Not exactly. There were those others. At first. When she transformed.

But that was different. Self-defense. Kill or be killed. She hadn't meant to do it.

Cattleya remembered the incident. Though only halfway. She remembered enough. She remembered going to them for help. And being attacked in return.

For being a good citizen. For seeking help. For turning to the law.

A field of roses. Intensely red. No. A dirty pool of blood in an alley. Blood in which the guts of two-legged animals floated.

She…

She…

In any case, it hadn't been her fault.

Even now, people were dying. She could admit it. But she could fix it. People were dying. There was still time.

So she called back the transformed. Like her. To monstrosities she barely understood. And they obeyed.

They returned to Cattleya. Who was no longer Cattleya.

She was something that extended to the skies. Wet. Pulsating like a heart.

She was something. Just something.

In any case, she stopped them. Bloodshed had begun. But there would be no massacre. She had had enough.

I've stopped them now. Everything will be fine.

Where are you, Louise? she thought suddenly. I need to see you. Hug you. I need you. I've always needed you. More than you've needed me.

—

Henrietta swallowed hard, staring at the beast that blocked the horizon.

"Is that you, Louise?" Her frail voice was drowned out and carried away by the wind, reaching nowhere.

Henrietta didn't know exactly what was happening, but she knew enough. She had witnessed the transformation of her best and only friend. Something inside her told her she was still the same as always, even if she had changed, even if something evil had infected her.

It was her. And Henrietta couldn't harm her. She couldn't raise a hand against her.

But apparently, she had screwed up. Led by sentimentality, she had evidently made a colossal mistake. And no one could save her now.

She was in the palace. And there she would remain, of course. No one wanted her to risk her life. No one would allow it. She could only watch the disaster she might have been able to prevent.

With her own eyes. From afar. Hoping things would turn out all right.

"Ah! May Brimir forgive me, but since when has simply having faith that things will work out ever done any good?"

—

Where the hell was she? Where could Cattleya possibly be?

Louise was in constant motion, mostly to avoid stopping and thinking about everything that had happened, and what it would cost to get through this and rescue her older sister. Especially since none of it was her sister's fault.

She shouldn't have to pay for Louise's stupidity and damned incompetence. These thoughts were dangerous, sharp-edged, so it was better to keep moving. Even if she had no idea which direction to take.

She hoped to pick up her sister's trail, find something, something obvious enough even for her, who had no experience tracking animals, let alone a person.

Her parents had never taken her hunting. For starters, they weren't the kind of nobles who pursued hunting as a hobby. Louise wasn't even sure they had hobbies to begin with.

"What exactly am I thinking right now? Am I an idiot?" Louise spat. "As if this isn't serious."

She wasn't taking it deadly seriously. It was just that she was hysterical. And who could blame her?

"Where the hell could she be?" Louise felt like screaming, as if her sister might hear her wherever she was.

—

It was pathetic, but Alex decided to follow Angélique to apologize. And for one more thing: he had an important question.

Alex found her in the courtyard, reading something. The moment she saw him, Angélique started but tried to play it cool. Not very well. She was lucky the only audience was the gardener.

"What is it? Al… Edmond."

"I'm sorry. What should I do? What's done is done, isn't it? So, what do I do now? How do I get you to stop looking at me like that? Tell me, and I'll do it. I still have hope this can work."

—

People were attacking her exterior. Her shell, so to speak. Cattleya no longer understood why.

She had stopped the massacre. She had done wrong, of course, but that was over now. It wasn't her fault she couldn't move now, rooted to the ground like a giant tree. A tree made of flesh. Wet, pulsating flesh. Made of blood, blood, blood.

Cattleya no longer understood. But it didn't matter. She couldn't ask them to stop. She couldn't try to reason with them. And she didn't want to kill them.

So, she had only one option left. Instinctively, she created a plant that began to release spores. The attackers stepped back as if they feared that breathing the spores would choke them or cause their skin and flesh to peel off their bones in strips.

It didn't. Some fell to the ground, eyes closed, but not dead. Just asleep.

She had the right to do this, at least in self-defense. Since the world wouldn't leave her alone, not even in her final moments, Cattleya extended her limbs, her roots, across the ground and walls, forming more of that unique flower.

The cloud of spores grew thicker and thicker, creating an impeccable defensive field, at least within a certain distance, and all without shedding another drop of blood.

Another drop of blood.

You're a murderer. A murderer.

Everything will be fine. Sooner or later, everything will be fine.

—

"I don't know," Angélique replied. "What you did is very complicated. For some things, there's just no turning back."

Alex frowned.

"So you think it's pointless?"

Then why the hell do I keep you alive? he thought but wisely bit his tongue. Giving in to his frustration would do him no good. He'd only lose what he wanted to hold onto if he hadn't lost it already.

"I'm trying," Alex said. "I'm really trying."

The only person he had ever felt anything remotely close to love for had been Dana, as if she were his real little sister. Losing her had utterly destroyed him. But even before that, people had never been his thing, no matter how many memories of handsome, wealthy, idiotic partygoers and the like swirled through his head. Charismatic bastards used to getting their way. Yeah, it didn't matter.

People had never been Alex Mercer's thing—the original one—and certainly not his.

But he was trying. Didn't that count for something?

"Doesn't that count for something?" Alex added. He couldn't resist.

Angélique lowered her gaze.

"Of course it does, and don't think I'm not grateful for what you did yesterday and everything you've done before that. But I can't get that image out of my head; I can't just snap my fingers and make it stop affecting me. I'm truly sorry, but I can't."

"What the hell do I do?" Alex repeated. "You still haven't answered my damn question."

"I don't know. Just be patient with me. It's an effort for me too. What? Do you think you're the only one who has to learn how to be human?"

Alex reacted as if she had slapped him.

—

"Louisee," Henrietta said to the wind once more, "I should be down there. It's my responsibility to save you if it's still even possible and to end your misery if it's not."

The weight on her shoulders had been enormous since birth. That was what it meant to be born with royal blood, to have a lineage. But she had never felt a burden as crushing as today's, where even breathing as Brimir commanded was an effort.

Her mind began to spin dangerously. Part of her wanted to leap off the damned balcony and welcome the ground with open arms.

—

"It's not attacking. How strange. All of a sudden, this abomination must be preparing to do something even worse. We can't let our guard down, men."

"But what can we do? No spell works; any damage heals almost instantly."

"Damn it, if I knew, I'd have my hands busy and my mouth shut."

—

Alex sat next to his wife.

She had her hands near the table, supporting herself as she read the book in silence. After a while, Alex reached out and placed a hand over one of Angélique's, encircling it, squeezing it.

At first, she flinched, tensed immediately, but then she relaxed or forced herself to relax—it made no difference.

And she returned the squeeze.

—

Deep down, Louisee wanted to go home with her tail between her legs, explain everything to her mother, and ask for help. But she knew Karin wouldn't be like Henrietta. Deep down, her mother wouldn't hesitate to destroy a sacrilege, an evil creature that spat on Brimir's sacred plan.

That was all she was to the world now: an abomination. All Cattleya would be if they caught her, if Louise couldn't help her in time.

All her fault, all her fault.

But surely it was better than if she had died in her bed, in the dark, almost completely alone.

So young, so young.

Not much older than her. She felt like vomiting but had to keep moving forward with her head held high. It was all she could do now.

—

Alex glanced at the gardener out of the corner of his eye. If he had noticed the strangeness of Alex's wife calling him by a name that wasn't his, he didn't seem to care; he kept working, whistling.

Oh well. In the end, what did it matter as long as he got paid?

"Alex?"

"Yes?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Okay."

—

"Those damned spores. Drowsiness can't be the only effect. It has to be the beginning, nothing more. Holy Brimir. One can only imagine what kind of horrors await these poor bastards."

"Let's focus on the horror right in front of us, shall we? Leave thoughts of the future to people who actually have one, dammit."

The man coughed violently several times, spitting blood into his hand. Deep down, he just wanted to go home and hide, like normal people were allowed to do. But he had to be here because of a decision he made five years ago. A path, a career. He had always known joining the city guard would be dangerous. He had never suspected it would lead to this.

—

Cattleya wasn't hungry, didn't feel pain, but she did feel cold, so, so cold, all of a sudden. She should get moving and fix it. She had the necessary tools for that. She wasn't sure, but maybe she could make do with the resources at hand. She hated the cold. It was like death's embrace.

"We can't get too close with those spores knocking everyone out. But isn't this better? Isn't it enough? I mean, they just fall asleep. It doesn't seem like this thing is a threat anymore."

"What the hell are you saying? What if the spores spread? Tell me. What if, before we realize it, the entire capital falls into a deep sleep? Do you think it would just leave us asleep, or suck us dry, using up every last resource?"

"Well, damn it, but we could be kicking a hornet's nest."

"We are the damn hornet's nest. Grow some guts, man. Fear is useless in a situation like this."

Cattleya could vaguely hear and understand the conversation. It seemed perfect to her that they would leave her alone, let her be, curled up in her shell. It's not like she was hurting anyone, after all. She was just here, lost, adrift. She couldn't go on like this forever. She couldn't.

—

Why did I fall asleep?

Louise suddenly froze, paralyzed from head to toe.

Why did I fall asleep? she shivered.

—

You have to promise me, Alex, she thought. This is over. From now on, whatever is necessary, but nothing more. It doesn't have to be pretty, but it doesn't have to be cruel either. You're better than that.

Angélique thought all this and more but didn't utter a single syllable. Looking at him, their hands still clasped, she felt he understood. Once again, he had exceeded her expectations, showing her that it was entirely possible to change his mind or at least reach an agreement for the good of both.

There's no other way to have a relationship, she thought. It's about give and take.

And I, I have so much to give. I was just waiting for the right person.

Maybe they'd arrived. Maybe this was all destiny, and her suffering had meaning.

—

Henrietta.

It would be shameful to crawl back, begging for help, asking her to pull her out of the fire, to risk herself for her and her sister. But she was her only friend, the only person she could count on. Even if she had to crawl, even if she had to beg, even if she had to offer her life in exchange.

No matter the cost, she would save Cattleya. She would fix her mistakes.

It was the least she could do before dying—a thought that didn't trouble her much.

So Louise headed to the capital.

It turned out she had made the right decision, although for a reason she could never have anticipated. Louise swallowed hard. She had never seen anything like it, and she would give anything to never see it again.

At the center of the capital, something evil rose like a massive spear aimed at the heart of the heavens.

"Cattleya?"

Yeah, I did say I wouldn't post again until the whole thing was done. But it's done, I'm just rewriting the ending, so hey. Might as well.