I really never intended to write this, but a certain someone (you know who you are) gave me the inspiration to pull through and submit this awful, and rushed piece of work to you guys. Hope you enjoy and have a wonderlandiful day!
Hey, you miserable pieces of filth (Iykyk)! It's because of you that my hands have toiled and can work no longer! When I get my claws on you, I wear I'll— [REDACTED]!
This is your last chance, young man. Hurt my students again, and this whole academy will be forced to raise its hand against you. The Headmaster's words reverberated in Haze's mind, a bitter reminder of the disastrous meeting earlier. It couldn't have gone worse than he expected.
They dared to challenge his might? His authority as a god?! To him, they were worth less than the dirt beneath his feet. They held little to no significance in the grand scheme of things, yet his freedom to do as he willed had been reduced to nothing.
His body twitched with barely contained rage, every muscle tensed. Not only had his main source of entertainment been stripped away, but now he was expected to make 'amends' with those he had wronged. It was absurd, an absolute waste of his precious time — time that could've been spent making his presence better known and feared.
Fury convulsed through his teeth as he clenched his jaw. He despised how pathetic he felt at that moment. The sensation of avolition was excruciating. He wanted to rip out the Headmaster's spine for the audacity of making Haze Underworld feel so incompetent.
"It's fine," he muttered to himself, "nothing will change." He wasn't about to let a mere mortal dictate his actions. What they don't know won't hurt them.
His eyes fell upon the parchment in his grasp. The Headmaster had given him this as a start, a gesture he found both insulting and infuriating. Haze rolled his eyes before unrolling the scroll to read its contents.
As his lips moved along with the text etched upon the paper, his brows furrowed deeper with each passing second. Haze's hair began to flare up, mirroring the emotions building within. It didn't take long before his anger burst forth in a shroud of fire, a physical manifestation of his rage. His veins pulsed with searing magma, and his body hunched under the weight of his repressed fury.
He took another glance at the parchment in his hands, scanning the many names listed upon the page. Each name was a reminder of the Headmaster's audacity, a symbol of his forced compliance.
Haze's mind raced, plotting his next move. He was determined to get this diabolical plot against him over with, but he knew he wouldn't be subdued easily. His fury would not be quenched by a simple piece of paper or a list of names. The fire within him burned too brightly, too fiercely. The academy hadn't seen the last of his wrath.
As he clenched the parchment, his eyes gleamed with a dark resolve. He would bide his time, play their game for now. But when the moment was right, they would all learn the true meaning of fear. They would all bow before Haze Underworld, whether they wanted to or not.
He scanned through the parchment once more, noticing the names and the crimes he committed against them. Seeing the long, meticulous list brought forth a sense of pride. He truly outdid himself with the amount of complaints that were listed along the length of the paper. But he had to start somewhere if he wanted to keep his place amongst the puny mortals for longer and not disappoint his superiors.
He took notice of one student whose name he was oddly familiar with, her list of complaints went on and on, filled with profane languages that Haze was certain to be inappropriate considering her background.
"Maybe I could have a bit of fun with this." He smirked, maliciously, before dissolving into flames and vanishing from those foolish enough to peer at his daunting visage for long.
At Ever After High, a rare and unexpected tranquility graced the campus, a much-welcomed reprieve for those accustomed to the tragedies and miseries that had plagued them since his ominous arrival. The recent passing of the rain left the air imbued with the soothing scent of petrichor, amplifying the ethereal presence of peace. The sun, at its zenith, cast a gentle light over the landscape, as life continued to prosper and thrive.
Many students dared to hope that this serene interlude might endure, even though they knew in their hearts the impossibility of such peace lasting while he remained. Nevertheless, they clung to these fleeting moments of calm, savoring the environment they once knew, especially a certain fuming girl.
Lizzie Hearts had never been known as a jovial or buoyant soul. Her temper was legendary, her sharp tongue often lashing out at those who dared cross her path. Yet beneath her dismissive and aggressive facade lay a tender heart, overflowing with love and loyalty for her friends and family.
Her parents had taught her well. A queen must be strict, decisive, and determined to rule with an iron fist, yet compassionate and understanding toward the plight of her subjects. These lessons, ingrained in her since childhood, would pave her future as the next Queen of Hearts. Lizzie loved her parents dearly. If her mother had instilled in her a firm and assertive demeanor, it was her father who showed her that genuine care and sincerity could unveil the true intentions of others.
Thus, her burning hatred and utter detestation toward Haze were justified. He had wrought havoc upon her world, shattering the sanctuary she had painstakingly nurtured. The garden, her solace amid the chaos, was razed to the ground by his malevolent hand. Worse still, he had terrorized her, threatening her life on multiple occasions. The memory of his claws gripping her neck, his grim, daunting eyes piercing into hers, haunted her still.
They say the eyes are windows to the soul, but all Lizzie could see in Haze's gaze was a chilling abyss, a void that consumed those who dared to look too deeply. Her hand trembled, an uneasy chill coursing through her body as she recalled the harrowing events. She gasped, feeling cold despite the sun's warm embrace. Though diminutive by default — a trait that hexed her to no end — the despair following her brushes with death mocked her, a constant reminder of her perceived frailty, even with her destiny as the next Queen of Hearts.
She hoped Kittie was faring better than she was, likely off engaging in one of her harmless pranks on some unsuspecting students. Lizzie was glad her friend had found an activity to help cope with the terror that had been inflicted upon their hearts.
Her grip on the hand trowel tightened, anchoring her senses to the task at hand. Lizzie Hearts was immersed in reclaiming her once-thriving, luscious garden. What had once been a vivid reminder of her homeland, was now reduced to cinders and ash. She gently picked up the remains of a once-budding rose — one of her favorites. A tear escaped her eye, followed by soft sobs that echoed her heartache.
She made an oath to herself: to repay Haze for the pain and suffering he had inflicted on her and her friends, even if it took a hundredfold effort. Rage coursed through her body as the flower in her grasp crumbled into dust, carried away by the currents of the wind. Lizzie had spent the entire day clearing away the aftermath of her once-beautiful garden, but the sadness and pain in her heart neither lessened nor wavered. Each pile of ash she shoveled, every surviving piece of flora she uncovered, seemed to drag her deeper into the depths of despair.
Sniffling, she wiped away the tears staining her cheeks, careful not to smudge her face with her sordid hands. The mask she wore began to feel stifling — constricting, even. Removing a glove, she raised her hand to unclasp the mask, taking a deep, heavy breath.
She was tired, exhausted, overwhelmed. Words seemed inadequate to describe her current state, unable to capture what was truly driving her to the edge. The Princess of Hearts needed a break. Dropping the tool in her hand, she released a deep sigh. She hadn't been able to fully clear out the ruins of her garden. A small part of her wanted to ask her friends for help, but a larger part doubted they would be keen to tend to a garden that wasn't their own. She didn't want to think badly of her friends, but neither did she want to be seen as incompetent and weak.
So she was left to tend and recover her garden all by herself, a decision she deeply regretted as her body screamed for a momentary respite. Lizzie stood on shaky legs, her muscles aching and her body burning from the intensive cleansing she had performed.
What I wouldn't give for a strawberry smoothie right about now, she thought, as images of the tantalizing beverage danced in her mind, her mouth feeling dry.
"Here you go," a voice chimed in, as if reading her thoughts. Lizzie turned to see the very same berry blend being held up beside her face. She felt the cool air kissing her skin and eagerly reached up to take the drink from her benefactor's hand. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, grateful for the timely gift.
She took a sip from the straw, allowing the coolness to seep into her body, replenishing her energy and slightly relieving the fatigue she had incurred from the strenuous tidying.
It took a few seconds longer for her to register the presence of someone else beside her. Slowly, she turned her head — lips still connected to the straw — until her eyes landed on the very person she had come to loathe and despise.
Haze.
His sudden arrival shocked Lizzie to her core. She regretted taking a long sip from the drink in her hands, sputtering out the contents and coughing harshly. Raising a hand to cover her mouth, she shielded herself from Haze's deathly form.
"Spitting all over a god's clothing is an act punishable by death, mind you." His deep, crippling voice sent chills down her spine. Lizzie instinctively crawled away, as Haze grinned at her utterly pathetic display.
"What are you doing here?!" she spat, her voice a tumultuous blend of hatred and fright. Haze, clearly entertained, savored the fear dancing in her eyes.
With a sinister smile, he picked up the beverage Lizzie had dropped. "Is that really how you should behave, even after I've shown you how generous I can be?" He motioned to the cup in his hands, and dread washed over Lizzie's face like a dark tide.
"What... what have you done to me?" she stammered, her fingers trembling as they touched her lips, then clutching her stomach. Unease and nausea began to swell within her, twisting her insides into knots.
"Are you accusing me of poisoning you, my dear? Do you really think so little of me?" His smirk was a blade, slicing through her composure. Lizzie's heart pounded wildly, each beat a deafening drum in her chest as her breaths grew rapid and ragged.
"Of course I do!" Lizzie snapped back, her voice fierce and defiant against his coyness. "That's what everyone thinks of you! You've been nothing but a thorn in all our sides ever after you intruded once upon a time into our lives!" She staggered to her feet, her legs trembling but her spirit unyielding as she faced her tormentor with a glare that burned with newfound resolve.
"Everything was as enchanted as it could be until you entered the story. All you do is torture other students for your own sick, twisted amusement! You destroyed my garden, the only remnant of my home that I brought with me, and thanks to you, I'll never get it back!" Her voice broke, the pain and loss evident as tears streamed down her face.
"You are nothing but a despicable, horrid individual who takes pleasure in hurting others! You stomp and ruin the lives of innocent people you think are beneath you just so you can feel all high and mighty!" Her lungs burned as she unleashed her fury, every word a fiery dagger aimed at the bane of her existence.
"Why don't you make all our wishes upon a shooting star come true, and off with your head!" In a fit of rage, Lizzie threw one of her dirty gloves at Haze. He caught it midair, and the gravity of her actions dawned on Lizzie like a cold, harsh reality.
Yet, she did not run. She stood her ground, a look of weary surrender settling on her face. She was tired—tired of running, tired of being afraid, tired of watching her every step as the world seemed against her. Her hands fell to her sides, and her head drooped in defeat, the fight within her flickering like a dying ember.
"Just get whatever hexing thing you're about to do over with," she muttered under her breath, barely audible over the faint sound of his steps inching closer. Her form trembled, anticipation clawing at her insides, and then… nothing.
She was still standing, still whole, with no visible harm. The suffocating presence that had loomed over her, a weight pressing heavily on her shoulders, vanished without a trace. It felt as if a great burden had been lifted, leaving her bewildered and hesitant. Lizzie trembled, fearing this might be a cruel trick. The silence was unnerving, and her heart pounded as she dared to look up.
With her eyes shut tight, she raised her head, slowly opening them as if afraid of what she might see. She expected to find Haze looming over her, his imposing figure dominating the space. But to her surprise, he was gone. The spot where he had stood was empty, barren, as if he had dissolved into the very air. His disappearance was sudden and silent, like a whisper carried away by the wind.
This did not ease Lizzie's fears; if anything, it amplified them. The thought of Haze vanishing without a trace left her more worried than ever. She rubbed her arms, trying to find solace in the otherwise unnerving situation. Just then, her attention was captured by a delicate butterfly, fluttering gracefully. Its wings, adorned with vibrant crimson patterns, gleamed under the crisp afternoon light. The intricate swirls and sharp movements of its wings were mesmerizing, and Lizzie found herself entranced by the enchanting creature. Each flap of its wings seemed to release a gentle warmth, reminiscent of a dancing flame — so delicate, so fragile, yet powerful in its own way.
Where had this wondrous creature come from? Lizzie wondered silently, careful not to disturb its rhythmic dance. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the butterfly, but something else soon demanded her attention.
She gasped, disbelief etched across her face as fresh tears welled in her eyes. Her garden, once a desolate wasteland of cinders and ash, was now bursting with vibrant colors and lush greenery. The memories of destruction felt foreign, as if they belonged to another life. Even the dirt and grime that had clung to her body were gone, replaced by the splendor of her revitalized garden. It was more magnificent than she had ever seen it.
Lizzie looked down to see a rose blooming towards her, its petals reaching out as if to greet her. She remembered this particular blossom, recalling how she had picked up its withered remains earlier. A hand flew to her mouth, as a few light sobs escaped her crimson lips.
How did this happen? Why was this possible? These questions swirled in her mind as emotions surged within her. Her body began to shake, the intensity of the emotions in her heart was threatening to overwhelm her. She had to calm herself, to find a way to understand and handle the incredible situation before her.
"How can this be?" Her voice barely above a whisper as the wind carried with it the scent of her rejuvenated garden. It was a scent so familiar, yet now, it carried a weight of wonder and disbelief. The once desolate space now teemed with life. She recognized her blue bonnets, her lilies of the valley, chrysanthemums, and morning glories. Each flower boasted its own unique and vibrant hue, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced before her eyes, representing the intricate canvas of life.
Lizzie tried to make sense of what she thought had been lost forever, but no longer was. "Haze…" His name echoed in her mind, a whispered suspicion of his involvement in this miraculous transformation. Had he played a part in restoring life, from whence there was only death? Her heart skipped a few beats — a warmth she never knew could exist — came and left as swiftly as it occurred.
As Lizzie stood there, grappling with the unsettling absence of Haze, a flicker of hopeful thought crossed her mind.
Maybe, just maybe, they had misjudged him?
Could there be a small glimmer of goodness hidden within that cold, dark heart of his? She dared to imagine the possibility, the faint stirrings of empathy tugging at her consciousness.
But before she could entertain this notion further, her musings were abruptly shattered by a cold, sloshing liquid cascading over her head, sending icy rivulets trickling down the sides of her face. Lizzie blinked in disbelief, her thoughts scattered by the sudden assault.
Looking up, she saw what remained of the smoothie Haze had 'generously' offered her earlier. The once-refreshing drink now lay wasted, its contents staining her clothes and leaving her feeling chilled and thoroughly unpleasant. Any glimmer of hope she had entertained about Haze's potential goodness evaporated in an instant, replaced by a stark realization as she cringed in disgust.
"Apparently not," Lizzie muttered to herself, her voice tinged with bitterness and disappointment. She stood there, corrected and more or less defiled by the ruined state of her appearance.
"What have I become?" Haze muttered, his voice barely a whisper. His insides twisted into wretched knots, and bile bubbled up within him as he fought the urge to regurgitate. He screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed around the surrounding landscape. In a frenzy, he slammed his body against every hard surface he encountered, desperate to alleviate the searing pain that consumed him. It felt as if his very soul was being torn apart by the vengeful damned of the underworld.
He trudged aimlessly, his steps lacking direction, his body flailing haphazardly. He cared little for those unfortunate enough to cross his path, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. The ground beneath him quaked and trembled, his hair swayed violently in an uncontrolled inferno. He gasped, struggling to gather his bearings, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
He found himself in a forest, but it wasn't the same one he was accustomed to. This forest eerily matched his own twisted essence: the trees were dead and rotten, the ambiance was dreary and bleak, and the sky was pale and rumbling. The look of surprise on his face momentarily distracted him from the pain pulsating within. But the distraction didn't last long, and he was forced to lean against a lifeless tree for support.
How pathetic, he thought, reduced to nothing but a crying buffoon. He had been foolish to think he could accomplish something as simple as being kind. He was not meant for anything good or righteous. Haze embodied all that was wicked and vile in the world. It was inevitable that any semblance of kindness would naturally tear him apart from the inside, both figuratively and literally.
If I see Grimm again, I swear I'll tear him limb from limb, he thought bitterly. But the pain became too much, and his body buckled, causing him to collapse near the roots of the rotting tree behind him. His flames dwindled to barely a flicker, and his eyes, once filled with contempt, became empty husks of his former self.
He would need many hours to return to his majestic self, but until then, he would bide his time within this desolate, lifeless forest. Distant howling resonated deep within the forest, and Haze chuckled at the irony of his current circumstance. He wasn't about to let some mangy mutts get the better of him.
Let them try, he thought. He could use a meal after the tumultuous situation he had found himself in. He felt a pang of disappointment at how miserable he must've looked right now. Nevertheless, he was glad that there wasn't a single soul to witness his depressing state of defeat by his own hands.
He still wondered what had prompted him to adhere to the Headmaster's orders when he could've simply ignored the tall tales of a withered old man past his prime. Haze shrugged. It didn't matter at this moment. He needed to replenish the energy he had lost, and the approaching canines would prove to be a hefty feast for his covetous stomach.
As he sat there, waiting for the inevitable confrontation, his mind wandered back to the words that had set him on this path. The Headmaster's warning, the list of names, the futile attempt at making amends. It all seemed so meaningless now. The surrounding forest, with its twisted trees and bleak atmosphere, mirrored the turmoil within his own soul.
But for now, he would wait. He would gather his strength and bide his time. And when he emerged from this desolate place, he would be stronger, more powerful, and ready to exact his vengeance on those who had pushed him towards the edge. The howls grew louder, and Haze's lips curled into a sinister smile.
Let them come. He was ready. Time for the bloodbath to commence.
The sound of footsteps grew louder, and nearby shrubberies rustled as Haze sensed their presence drawing nearer. Soon, a wolf jumped out of the foliage, staring intently at his fallen form. It tilted its head, curiosity mingling with caution, as if wondering how he had ended up in this pitiful state. Haze stared back with a look of bitter disappointment, the proud god reduced to scrounging for survival.
Just one wolf. Hardly enough to fill his stomach and satiate his growing hunger. But Haze supposed he shouldn't get his hopes up. This singular mutt would have to suffice for a snack. His body tensed, preparing to lunge, when a voice interrupted the tense confrontation.
"Carmine, where are you, boy?" A bipedal presence, unmistakably human, approached. The wolf's ears perked up, and it turned towards the sound, tail wagging slightly.
"There you are, Carmine. Why did you run off like that?" A figure emerged from the shadowy forest, eyes widening as they took in the scene before them. Haze's smirk grew more conniving, recognizing the newcomer. They had crossed paths before during his brief, tumultuous time at the academy. The hood obscuring most of their features was a dead giveaway, alongside the figure's build – this was a woman. He had never bothered to learn her name; the identities of mortals were of little consequence to him.
"You." Her voice cut through the thickened tension like a blade, sharp and filled with repressed fury.
Haze propped one arm over a folded knee, his smirk widening. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise," he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice a cocktail of anger and disdain aimed at the fallen godling.
"I don't see why I should bother answering your question, you mangy cur," Haze retorted, his tone dismissive and cold. She growled, her glare fierce and filled with hatred. Haze found himself intrigued by the fire in her eyes, the raw emotion that radiated from her.
"But maybe you could answer mine," he continued, his curiosity piqued. "Who are you supposed to be?" His voice took on a mocking edge, though there was genuine interest beneath his indifference. This hooded individual intrigued him; there was a mystery surrounding her that drew him in.
"I don't need to tell you anything," she retorted, her voice laced with venom. Hatred fueled her every word as she took in the state of her adversary, a small smirk playing on her lips.
A feisty one. How amusing. Haze's grin widened, his interest piqued by this fierce, hooded girl who dared to stand her ground against his oppressive might. He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo through the desolate forest.
"There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity, mortal," Haze said, forcing his weakened body to stand. The girl took a step back, her stance poised, and ready for whatever he planned next. Her resolve, however, was met with a surprise neither of them anticipated.
In the blink of an eye, Haze sped past her, his form a mere blur. He reappeared behind the girl and her wolf companion, leaving her gaping at his speed. A wave of inadequacy washed over her; even at her peak, she couldn't match his speed, power, or presence. She spun on her heels, bracing for an attack, but what she saw horrified her. Haze held her cloak, the one piece of clothing she couldn't afford to lose, leaving her exposed. She quickly raised her hand to cover her features.
Haze examined the cloak, his fingers tracing the fabric. He had seen many strange things: the gorgon sisters shedding their scaly skins, wayward souls embracing eternal damnation, and even gods mingling intimately with their kin. But this cloak intrigued him. It held an enchantment, allowing the wearer to traverse unseen in the dark. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, then turned his gaze back to the girl. She was crouched, her body hunched as she desperately tried to cover herself.
Strange, he thought. This girl, who moments ago seemed full of courage, now shielded herself like a frightened child. His curiosity deepened as he pondered what had caused this shift.
Before he could think further, the girl lunged at him, her desperation palpable. "Give it back!" she screamed, her voice raw with emotion. She attacked again, her movements wild and uncontrolled. Haze dodged effortlessly, his disinterest evident. He had expected more from someone who dared to stand toe-to-toe with him.
It was almost amusing. He snickered as she missed another strike. Her anger was consuming her, making her actions erratic and uncoordinated. It was a fatal flaw against someone like Haze, who thrived on exploiting such weaknesses.
As she lunged once more, Haze sidestepped, easily avoiding her. "Is this the best you can do?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "I thought you were brave. Turns out you're just another fool."
The girl glared at him, her eyes burning with fury. "You don't understand," she spat, her voice trembling. "That cloak... it's more than just a piece of clothing. It's a part of me."
Haze raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A part of you, you say? How fascinating." He held the cloak up, inspecting it more closely. "And what happens if I destroy it?" he smirked as he conjured a ball of fire in his hands, threatening to raze the cloak to ashes.
"No!" she cried out, her voice breaking. "Please, don't."
The plea in her voice gave him pause. For the first time, he saw the vulnerability hidden beneath her fierce exterior. She was more than just a warrior; she was someone with fears and weaknesses, just like any other mortal.
This revelation stirred something in Haze, a flicker of empathy buried deep within his dark heart. He had never considered the emotional stakes of his actions, the personal cost to those he tormented. It was a strange feeling, one he wasn't sure he liked.
But the moment passed quickly. Haze's smirk returned, his eyes cold. "Begging won't make a difference, girl. But if you want your precious cloak back, you'll have to earn it."
Her eyes blazed with determination, and she straightened, no longer trying to hide. "Fine. I will."
There was a palpable look of surprise upon Haze's expression as he saw what exactly the girl had sought to desperately hide from his view. On the sides of her head, there was an uncanny sight — a pair of ears, too furry and long to be humans, much like a wolf's, were exposed for him to witness.
I guess we all have our secrets.
He couldn't help but admire her spirit, even as he prepared to crush it. This was more than a battle of strength; it was a clash of wills, and he relished the challenge. He tossed the cloak aside, ready to face her head-on.
"Let's see what you're really made of," he said, his voice a low growl. "Show me the warrior behind the mask."
With a fierce cry, the girl charged at him, teeth bared and claws poised to strike. Haze braced himself for the clash, ready to test the limits of her resolve. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable collision of their fates.
Haze deftly evaded the girl's attacks, his movements fluid and effortless. A sidestep here, a quick maneuver there — it became a game of cat and mouse. Yet in this game, the mouse was a dog whose bark was far worse than its bite, and the cat was a prideful lion standing above all. The lion yawned at each failed attempt of the mutt wanting to reclaim what was hers.
"Surely you can do better than that," Haze mocked, his voice dripping with disdain as she grew wearier and more desperate.
"Shut up! Just stand still for one second!" she yelled, her frustration boiling over. Her bark was indeed louder than her bite as she kept missing her intended target.
"Now why would I do such an idiotic thing?" Haze's sharp snides chipped away at her resolve, planting seeds of doubt in her mind.
Maybe I spoke too soon, he thought, expecting a challenge but finding himself unimpressed with the girl's crude display of skills. "Twist your hips more, sharpen your reflexes," he instructed, momentarily confused by his own impulse to help his enemy when he could easily defeat her in less than a second.
"I said, shut up!" she snapped, her voice cracking with a mix of anger and fatigue. She launched another series of wild strikes, each one more desperate than the last.
As the fight dragged on, the girl became visibly exhausted. Beads of sweat rolled down her face, and she looked haggard and fatigued from the relentless pursuit. Calling it a fight seemed too generous — it was more like a one-sided beatdown.
Haze wasn't faring much better. His insides screamed from overexertion, the emotional onslaught earlier having taken its toll. A throbbing pain reverberated through him, his body convulsing and twitching wildly. He was thankful the girl was too blinded by anger to notice his weakening state. He could feel his body slowly betraying him.
It's going to take me days to recover now, he seethed inwardly, determined not to let a feeble mortal witness his vulnerability. It wouldn't be long before the woman fell and begged for his mercy. He would savor the despair etched across her face when that moment came.
But as always, his life found a way to turn the tables against him. He had overestimated his endurance, the searing pain inside him growing unbearable. His movements became sluggish, his steps staggered and wobbly as he struggled to remain standing.
The valiant girl barked loudly before pouncing towards him. This time, he wasn't fast enough to avoid her. Both fighters braced for impact as their bodies collided.
In that brief moment of control, the girl wondered why the repulsive villain didn't dodge her strike this time. She was exhausted, her body aching and pulsating with pain. Her muscles strained from her excessive movements as she allowed herself to slam into Haze's body. She felt herself fall alongside him, their combined weight pulling them down to the ground with a resounding thud.
Haze winced in pain, his body too weak to handle a simple stumble. He tried to get up but felt a weight on his chest, effectively pinning him in place. His back was on the cold, damp ground of the dreary forest, his eyes fixed on the depressing sky above.
He needed to get up and gather his bearings. Sleeping outside was out of the question, even in this dire situation. But then, he felt movement on his chest, the strange weight stirring as a groan followed.
Haze hesitated, his mind warning him about what lay on top of him. Apprehensive but determined, he lifted his head and looked down, coming face to face with an unsettling sight. The girl he had been fighting was now lying on top of him, their compromising position a result of their collision.
The girl muttered curses under her breath as her eyes, filled with a mixture of surprise and defiance, met his. For a moment, the forest's eerie silence enveloped them, the weight of their predicament sinking in. Haze's mind raced, grappling with the unexpected vulnerability of the situation.
Her breath was warm against his chest, the proximity of their bodies creating an unsettling intimacy. His heart pounded in his chest, not from exertion but from a strange, unfamiliar emotion that he couldn't quite place.
Panic surged through him, an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. Haze pushed the girl harshly off of him, making her hiss as she fell on her rear. She glared at him, her eyes blazing with indignation and something else — a flicker of hurt, perhaps? No, he doubted it to be.
He scrambled to his feet, his body trembling with a mixture of pain and something deeper, something more unsettling. He made a swift retreat, needing to get away from the strange vulnerability that had gripped him.
As he fled, encasing himself in a fiery cloak, Haze's thoughts were a tumultuous storm of confusion and anger. What had just happened? How had a mere mortal managed to get under his skin? The girl's defiance, her unyielding spirit, had struck a chord within him, resonating with an intensity he couldn't fathom. It was as if her presence had awakened something dormant and long forgotten within him, something that both enraged and intrigued him.
As the flames consumed him, he disappeared from her sight, leaving behind a trail of scorched earth. The girl, finally free from the oppressive pressure he had exuded, took a deep breath. The weight on her shoulders lifted, the throbbing sensation in her heart easing. She heard a bark beside her and turned to see her loyal companion, Carmine, holding her cloak in his mouth.
"Good job, Carmine." She gave her pet a few gentle strokes to its head before clothing herself in the familiar hood people had known her by. Haze must've dropped it when she crashed into him earlier.
Haze... His name echoed in her mind, a haunting refrain that brought with it a flood of strange emotions. What's wrong with me? She hated how her mind often worked, especially during uncomfortable situations.
Didn't she hate him? Yes, that was true. He had hurt her friends, inflicted pain upon her, and destroyed places she cherished. He had become an active agent of misery in their lives. Her hatred for him should have been clear and unwavering. And yet, the beating of her heart told a different story. Instead of pure hatred, there was an inexplicable pull towards him, an attraction she couldn't understand.
She was supposed to hate Haze, despise him for all that he had done. Yet, why did she feel drawn to him now more than ever after? What was it about him that stirred these conflicting emotions within her?
She didn't know — and honestly, she was afraid to find out.
Haze's mind raced, grappling with the implications of the recent, confounding encounter. He had always prided himself on his invincibility, his unassailable strength. Yet here he was, running from a girl who had somehow pierced through his armor, a mere mortal who had managed to shake him to his core.
He needed to regain his composure, to rebuild the walls that had protected him for so long. But as he stumbled through the forest, his body aching and his mind in turmoil, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had irrevocably changed. His very essence felt compromised, as though the foundations of his being were shattering under the weight of unfamiliar emotions.
What have I become? He wondered, the question echoing in the silence of the forest. For the first time in centuries, Haze found himself without an answer. The uncertainty gnawed at him, a relentless whisper in the back of his mind.
This mustn't go on any longer, he reasoned with himself. This foreign feeling would surely put a damper on his plans. It would inevitably become his undoing if he were to entertain these unwelcome emotions further than he had already permitted. Once, he had been curious about the strange way he had acted, but now, these feelings were becoming an inconvenience — one he must purge from his heart, no matter the cost.
Arriving near the gardens behind the school, he sensed no other presence nearby, which greatly relieved him. He needed to return to his quarters and mend his injuries — especially those of the heart. The serene beauty of the garden seemed to mock his inner turmoil, the blooming flowers and gentle rustle of leaves a stark contrast to the chaos within him.
But before he could get far, a voice garnered his immediate attention.
"Haze," called a voice that cut through his thoughts like a knife. He looked back, ready to unleash his fury on whoever dared to disturb him. His eyes widened in shock and surprise as he saw Cupid standing behind him.
Cupid had been looking for him all day, concerned by his unusual absence. There had been no evidence of the chaos and destruction he typically left in his wake. Fortune truly smiled upon her as she caught him before he could disappear again. She needed answers, and she knew only he possessed them. Despite knowing the consequences of questioning him, she stood tall and resolute.
"We need to talk," she said, her voice steady but laced with underlying urgency.
Once again, thank you for your comments/reviews, everyone! I love reading them!
Well, I don't! They can take their compliments with them to the Underworld and burn!