This is going to be a pretty long one with all the other boring moving parts.
Angelic is running out of patience.
— ML
Chapter 20: Séance, Part Four
One Day
Tempesta and Lamy spent a good three days talking to inmates about alchemy. The snow-haired demon got into the habit of drawing that incantation circle in hopes that at least one individual would recognize the style. Eventually, he memorized every characteristic, both simple and complex.
They approached more demon folk than they could count. Lamy herself lost count after about 115. Children as young as ten, adults as old as centuries, and everyone in between had no idea what alchemy was.
What many had in common was an apprehensive reaction. It was no secret that Tartaros Fairy got into their fair share of trouble with the authorities. Apparently, they were the subject of a number of rumors that went as far back as November.
Minerva was "damaged goods." Kyôka and Sayla took turns "fixing" Minerva (barf). Jackal was a pervert. Tempesta and Lamy were having an "affair."
Tempesta was especially annoyed to hear that people assumed Tartaros was a cover-up for a secret polygamist cult. Rumor mills were quite creative, if not infuriating and false.
It was no surprise that very few of these folks felt comfortable openly associating with inmates of Tartaros.
"I heard about your other lady friend, Mannard, or something," a male demon once said. Tempesta decided not to correct him on his butchering of "Minerva." He heard enough of that today. "Sorry for your loss. Those guards'll get what they deserve."
"Yeah, I hope so too," Tempesta muttered, walking away from the inmate briskly with Lamy jogging after him.
"No idea what that is. Sorry," another prisoner said with a nonchalant huff.
"Alchemy? That crap is so ancient they might as well ban it or something," one snickered. For a moment, Lamy wondered if limiting the practice of alchemy led to its rarity.
"I don't know. Can't help you."
"Pay me if you want information, or fuck off somewhere."
"With what money? We have nothing here," Tempesta frowned. That inmate burst with laughter, strolling away from the couple.
"A snake in a magic circle? That doesn't make any sense!"
"No one is joining your shitty little club."
Before they knew it, dinnertime had arrived, and the lines to the cafeteria were building up.
Kyôka probably ate by now, Tempesta thought. He ate a spoonful of some kind of dark green stew. The meat was difficult to chew but full of unique flavor.
"They could've turned this into jerky," Lamy said in between chews, then swallowed. "It's so hard to chew."
"I fink if perfecf," the snow-haired demon remarked before drinking the last of the thick broth from his bowl.
I wonder if alchemists could turn this food into something else too...
Lamy collected their trays and dishes and then returned them to the cafeteria. The bunny demon looked past the stacks of used dishes, smiling at one of the kitchen workers. He scowled, going about his evening chores. She glared back before going back to her boyfriend by the cafeteria doors.
Honestly, this place is swarming with passionless energy...
Just when their search was beginning to look bleak, an elderly woman approached them later in the evening. She was almost as tall as Tempesta. She wore her grayish-white hair in a high bun and tucked her shirt in her capris. Lamy thought she looked way too decrepit to walk as straight as she did.
"Good evening."
"Uh, hi," Lamy gave a slight nod. Tempesta stayed quiet. The old woman waited for them to say something else. When the couple didn't speak, she proceeded.
"I am a scholar of Lost Magic from the land of dragon folk, Demiterum."
"A teacher? What could you have done to end up in a place like this?" Tempesta asked.
"Ah, that, I cannot say," she shook her head, her eyes downcast. "All I will say is that I am to live out the rest of my days here."
Well, here goes nothing, Tempesta thought. He pulled his folded drawing out of his pocket and presented it to the old woman. Hopefully she did not need glasses to inspect it.
"Do you know anything about this?" he asked. She took one short look at the drawing.
"Hmm... oh, this is ancient Latin," she replied, pointing to the small, cursive letters along the outer circle and each side of the triangle.
Neither Lamy nor Tempesta remembered what Latin was. However, Tempesta perked up attentively when she began to describe her personal understanding of the circle he drew.
"Some folks believe that Latin is the root of many languages studied by a wide range of mages," the old woman said. "I've never seen this kind of power, so I'm just speaking on observations alone. Right here," she pointed to one side of the triangle. "Now, my Latin is not perfect, but I believe this is a prayer to a higher power. Mages worship many higher beings through their practice of curses, enchantments, magic, and their gathering in guilds, covens, and everything else in between."
"What else is in between?" Lamy questioned, tilting her head to the side.
"Purgatory is a very diverse world," the woman smiled. "Even I do not have a direct answer for that."
"Do you know what it says?" Tempesta asked. Finally, an actual lead!
The old woman thought about her response. She took Tempesta's sheet of paper, muttering something to herself. She slowly turned the paper upside down as she skimmed each line on the sides of the triangle and the remaining text along the circle.
"The triangle says, 'Oda ad Veritatem. Radix nostrae energiae, feri me. Donum vitae pro vita'," she trailed off. Tempesta and Lamy exchanged looks. The bunny demon shrugged.
"An ode to the Truth. Root of our energy, thou smite me. Offering of a life for a life," the old woman continued. Even she was impressed with her translation. Tempesta believed her. If she were truly an educator, she would never lie, right?
"The circle says... oh dear," the old woman murmured. Lamy watched her expression turn from concentration to weariness. She handed the paper back to Tempesta, avoiding their gazes.
"What's wrong? What does the circle say?" Tempesta questioned. The old woman shook her head.
"No, no, I cannot read it aloud. I can't. I'm sorry!" the old woman exclaimed, bowing low. Tempesta stepped back, put off by her sudden change of demeanor.
"It's fine, we'll just ask someone else," Lamy assured the woman. She lightly patted the woman's shoulder as a silent thank you for her help. She flinched from Lamy's hand. She walked away briskly, although it looked more like a slight limp.
"W-wait!" Lamy called after the woman. Tempesta grasped her shoulder.
"Don't bother. If she is afraid of some words, then she's no help," he frowned. Lamy growled, shrugging his hand away. She marched after the woman.
"I changed my mind. Get back here, lady!" she shouted without a care if guards were offended.
The old woman glanced back. The worry in her eyes turned to shock as the bunny demon stormed up to her, grabbing her hand. Tempesta rushed after her, fearing the worst. A guard nearby slowly raised a hand to a holster on their hip that wasn't a gun. The snow-haired knew by now what the sedation drugs looked like when concealed.
To both Tempesta's and the guard's surprise, Lamy fell to her knees.
"Please, teacher! I'm begging you to help us! We can't do this alone!" she wailed, bursting into loud sobs. Tempesta's eye widened in shock. Lamy, crying? Even the old woman was caught off guard, most likely expecting bunny demon to physically assault her instead.
The guard shook their head, turning the other way. Tempesta quietly knelt beside his girlfriend. The bunny demon lowered her head, making sniffling noises. Up close, he could tell it was an act. She did not shed a single tear.
That's my Lamy.
Tempesta met her gaze, trying his hardest to appear nearly as pathetic as his girlfriend. If one could not expose the act, they might as well join it.
"Please, help us. We won't bother you again after this," he promised. The old woman took a step back, keeping her hands close to her chest.
"... Okay. Alright. Come with me."
She motioned them to follow her. Tempesta took Lamy's hand, helping her stand.
"Wipe your face, Lamy." Was that convincing enough?
"Shh! Don't bring attention to my face," she hissed under her breath, wiping her dry eyes as they followed the woman.
The elder's cell was located at the very end of the wing where Sayla, Minerva, and Kyôka resided. She opened her creaky door, motioning them to enter first. The couple walked in.
There was only one bed in the cell with two mattresses stacked with double the bedding on it. The other bed frame was turned into a makeshift desk with a pillow used for sitting. Lamy eyed the stack of old books neatly placed next to a rather thick journal. Books? Journal? Writing utensils?! How did they not meet this woman sooner?!!
The old woman motioned them to sit. Lamy sat on the bed while Tempesta sat on the floor between her knees. After shutting the door, the woman sat on her floor pillow.
She grabbed Tempesta's paper again. She looked at him with a hint of worry in her dark blue eyes. Those pupils nearly covered her entire scleras.
"I had to get you away from the public ear," she whispered. Now Tempesta was next to tilt his head in confusion. He waited for the woman to continue.
"Before I tell you more about that incantation circle, I have something else to share. I heard about undercover guards among the prisoners. Do you remember the prostitute that killed clients? She used to sit with you all."
"A prostitute..." Tempesta tapped his chin, scratching a small itch in his chin hair.
"Mollison!" Lamy blurted out.
"No, not her," he gasped in disbelief.
"Yes, she is one of them. I found out entirely by accident. It was the day she and that green-haired girl fought," the elder recalled.
"When Kyôka and Mollison clashed back in October," Tempesta elaborated before Lamy could ask about it. The realization hit her right after.
"Damn it! Kyôka knew and didn't want to expose that fucking cow!"
"Yes, Kyôka found out. I don't know how, though. And she was furious," the old woman emphasized with a frail, shaken fist. "I happened to witness the fight. Later on, I promised Mollison her secret was safe with me. No one would believe a crazy old lady anyway."
She chuckled as she finished her anecdote. Lamy's mouth hung open in shock.
"That bitch!" Lamy shouted, punching the bed beneath her. Tempesta turned around to kneel and grabbed Lamy's hands.
"Let me go, Tempe. I swear to Zeref, I'll hit you!" she growled. He simply squeezed her hands a little tighter, knowing she barely had the strength to pull free. Alas, she still attempted to free herself. Thankfully, she didn't try to kick him instead.
"We trusted her with everything," she seethed, clenching her teeth.
"I know, Lamy. But she's gone now. We can't do anything about it," he replied in a gentler tone. He brought her clenched fists closer, kissing her white knuckles. The bunny demon kissed his hands in return, relaxing in no time. She decided to save her angry venting for later.
Tempesta suddenly flinched, whipping around to face the old woman with an accusatory glare. She had reached out to touch his frizzy ponytail. She smiled with a halfhearted chortle.
"Forgive me. Your hair looks just like my daughter's, you see."
"Oh. Well, think before you touch a stranger's hair," he scolded lightly.
"My name is Ur Milkovich. And you are Tempester and Lamy. Therefore, we are not strangers," she grinned. Her teeth resembled two rows of hand-sharpened tips, in Lamy's opinion.
"Tempest-a, not Tempest-er," he corrected her flatly. "Now, Ur, you said Mollison was an undercover guard. What else do you know?"
Ur made a side glance to her door, then looked back to the couple.
"I know that you and your troupe are still under close surveillance from within," she whispered. Lamy narrowed her eyes.
"Is it Bird?" she asked. "Naomi? Elfine?"
"It could be Lorenzo," Tempest suggested. Lamy shook her head.
"Doubt it. He's just a big meathead," the bunny demon replied. "I think it's Bird. He doesn't like anything, and everybody is beneath him in terms of intellect."
"Do you suspect anyone in particular?" Tempesta asked.
Ur reached across her makeshift desk and grabbed her one notebook. She flipped through many mildly worn pages of notes and entries. She stopped around the middle, then showed them the open pages.
On the left page was a drawing of some kind of doll. It had stumps with thumbs for hands and stumps for feet. The head bore a humanoid face, black empty eye sockets, and short hair. The right page was unrelated to the topic, centered on something about pasta and bread combinations.
*awkward side glance at the camera*
Tempesta blinked. Lamy scratched her head with a puzzled look.
"As a dark dragonoid, I have a curse that is not easily weakened by normal anti-eterano force fields," Ur said in a lower whisper. Tempesta leaned a bit closer to hear her. "I see things the normal eye cannot see. This creature follows all of you. I heard her name multiple times from, eh, Sayla. Yes, that one."
"Angelic," Tempesta murmured, deep in thought.
Angelic, that fictitious being that was recorded in Jackal's diaries and Sayla's French journal. Some pages in Jackal's diaries were filled with several sketches and stories supposedly created by that Angelic figure, among other little things.
Tempesta assumed Ur's curse was a sixth sense on a higher degree. She could see an invisible ghost clear as day and drew her; it was nearly identical to the other drawings made of or by Angelic.
He rubbed his temples, furrowing his brows. Nothing else about her popped up in his memories. Why didn't he remember?
"Angelic is real," Lamy said after a long pause. "But we don't remember anything about her, no matter how much we try to think about it. But, like... is she really on their side?" she queried, hinting at the guards and Jerza.
"Well, Greg and Ziggy are our allies despite their affiliations," Tempesta reminded her. "Perhaps this Angelic ghost is also a traitor."
"Wait, you actually believe me?" Ur asked, her eyes lighting up.
"I'm still skeptical, but it wouldn't really surprise me," Lamy replied. Ur sighed in relief, closing her notebook.
"Thank you. Thank you so much for believing me," she smiled brightly.
"And that means we can't simply kickstart a riot by killing inmates. There's a chance they already know. We have to tell Sayla," Tempesta said.
"Uuuhhhh, she's gonna rub it in that she was right and never shut up about it!" Lamy moaned, lying down with a plop on the bed. Tempesta rolled his eyes, humored by his girlfriend's whining.
Oh, almost forgot.
"By the way, you didn't finish translating this circle."
"That's right, Tempesta. I didn't," Ur whispered. She turned to her desk and flipped the alchemy circle drawing to the blank backside. She then started writing.
She still won't say it out loud, Lamy rolled her eyes. She and Tempesta watched her write the following Latin:
Oda ad Veritatem. Radix nostrae energiae, feri me. Donum vitae pro vita
An ode to the Truth. Root of our energy, thou smite me. Offering of a life for a life.
She began to write slower, taking a moment to sigh deeply.
Meum regnum, vita mea, et potestas mea. Peccata mea pro oculo veritatis evellere. Drazaron vinctus vivit in tua potestate.
My domain, my life, and my power. Undress my sins for the eye of the Truth. Drazaron chains live on in your power.
"What's so scary about that?" Lamy asked. Ur looked at her in confusion.
"You really don't know what this means?" she asked, turning to Tempesta as well. He shook his head. Seriously, how could anyone assume they know anything about Purgatory? They've spent a whopping six months in captivity and zero in the real world!
"Ur, we really don't know anything," Tempesta replied. "What do you know? Why does this knowledge frighten you?"
"Not quite frightened, more... Well, long, long ago, an ancient, extinct race of demons invented alchemy, and it destroyed everything," she answered. She shook her head as if refusing to accept what little she actually knew. "The greed for that power triggered war and mass destruction. From a scholar's point of view, a whole world of knowledge was lost forever because of the dangers of abusing this power. It was like the Library of Ancient Alexandria, but so much worse. We know nothing about what truly happened. All that remains of their legacy is a total ban on the practice and a few scraps like this drawing," she sighed somberly.
She glanced between the two again. Lamy looked more lost than usual. Tempesta sat down next to Ur.
"So, an ancient civilization called Drazaron invented alchemy, which is now a crime to practice," he affirmed when she nodded in agreement. "Even though they fought to the death to protect it, there is next to no actual information about this power or its history. If that's the case, then how did Doctor Yuichi Misono know about this?"
The mystical appeal of alchemy that Misono preached, the black card, his total confidence in everything he said... was it all a lie after all?
"Humble scholars like me don't have all the knowledge, but individuals in power do," Ur suggested, slouching. "If I were you, I would take caution in blindly trusting anyone who thinks they know alchemy, especially the staff here."
"I still don't get why lost history could scare you," the bunny demon pouted with her arms crossed. Ur smiled sadly. There was something behind that expression that definitely hid something more, but Lamy felt it was wrong to push her with more questions. Tempesta gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay. You don't have to tell us more if you're uncomfortable," he reassured her.
"It's alright, Tempester. This power is actually the reason I'm in prison," Ur professed. "This power, it... took my daughter, and she," she trailed off, her lower lip quivering. Tears filled the old woman's eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She lowered her face into her palms, sobbing quietly. Lamy closed her lips in a tight line.
Oh no. Oh crap. Oh shit!
As Lamy awkwardly patted the elder's shoulder, all Tempesta could think about was the incantation. Yuichi gave him that card for a reason. After all, it led them to Ur Milkovich. Tempesta found himself with even more motivation to prove that their hidden alchemist is real and will help free them. The doctor gave him no reason to lie, so why would he start lying now?
Ur wiped her face on her shirt, sniffling. Tempesta still felt uncomfortable near crying people. Thank goodness she did not expect comfort. He was awkward about that too.
"Thank you for sharing everything with us," the snow-haired male smiled softly. Was that a good enough response after the awkwardness?
"You're always welcome," she whispered back, grasping his hand in both of hers. She looked into his left eye. Her gaze met Lamy's, then her smile faded. Tempesta looked puzzled as she dropped her hand, staring intently at something behind Lamy.
"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't touch either of you so carelessly."
"No, it's okay, Ur," Lamy reassured her. She looked back, a bit paranoid about the old woman's strange reaction. Ur scooted towards the back wall of her cell. Tempesta thought she looked like cowering prey.
"We, we should leave," he said to Lamy, taking her hand. "Thank you, Ur, really." With the paper in hand, the couple left the cell.
Meanwhile, Ur pressed herself against her wall as if pleading the concrete to swallow her. A small, menacing husk of golden, shimmering light glared at her. It had no eyes, but its gaze burned through her like fire. Those dark, empty sockets on that furious little face looked more horrifying than the dreams.
"I will never do anything to harm them! I-it's not my n-nature..."
Just making sure.
The shimmering figure lunged at her. The old woman let out a shrilled scream, throwing her arms up for defense. However, the thing vanished instead. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing quietly.
Camelopardalis
(We are going to have so much fun together! You have just enough psychological damage to become the life of the party!)
Cancer
(You lack so much soul; it's a little sad, baby. Too bad I can't fix that for you. That's as brutal a fate as your hideous haircut.)
That Same Evening
The faucet still dripped despite its recent cleanse and restoration. The ambient sound was therapeutic to ears that heard too much. Occasionally, someone would murmur a pathetic apology or count how many punches it would take to make Yuichi bleed. The anger intruded at random, but Jackal calmed himself by remembering the consequences of attacking his only ally in that noisy cell.
Aries: I'm sorry.
Scorpio: Apesta a humano...
Virgo: He's kinda cute, now that I think about—
Draco: No, no, stop! He is the enemy just doing his job! We can't let him become a weakness.
Me: Who cares if he's handsome, Virgo? Yuichi is beneath every last one of us.
Crux: I'm going to lose my mind if I have to put up with this every day.
Camelopardalis: Oh, honey. It was broken before we got here. We're here for a good time, not a long time!
Triangulum: That is exactly why you died first, Camelopardalis.
Scorpio: Cállate! We died because they took our king.
Columbus: Tongue, be still.
The blonde demon blinked the thoughts away when Yuichi began to stir. The blonde demon was already annoyed about waking up to a loud conversation in his own head. They were talking so much meaningless shit. Who could possibly sleep through this?
Aries' freezing hand touched his hair. He did not resist or flinch that time. He glanced over to where Yuichi was resting. He might never understand the level of crazy one had to be to lock himself up with someone like Jackal. That man had enough sense of danger to stay alive but definitely not enough to stay away from certain death.
Certain death? Really, Crux?
Don't be foolish, boy. We can easily exhaust his only defense and end him! Slow and terrible!
Shut up.
Crux especially made him nervous. The mere thought of what bloodlust used to make him do disgusted him. How could he be so cruel? How could he hurt humans who had no opportunity or power to protect themselves?
Aries! That stupid council is long gone! Shut the fuck up!
I'm so sorry! It's just so sad how they died...
Honestly, a good third of 'em deserved it, Jackal thought.
Finally, Yuichi Misono fully woke up. The first thing he reached for was his glasses near his head. Jackal would most certainly make fun of his new lenses and matching uniform. The spectacled man stiffened with alarm when he heard movement near him. The darkness had a funny way of scaring even the bravest of men.
"You know, I could've killed you where you slept. You're lucky I'm so merciful," Jackal smirked.
"And yet, you slept soundly and even talked a little bit in your sleep. Your new addition likes to dance, right?"
"What? How'd you know?" the feline asked. Who the hell figures that out from sleep talking? That damn creep knows too much!
One thousand percent, KitKat!
Fuck off, Camelofuckwit.
Yuichi sat up in what sounded like a generous bundle of blankets. Jackal was used to the cold, so he preferred to sleep on top of his blankets now. Humans are weak in the cold, as usual.
"I couldn't understand all of it. I wrote down everything I could, of course. You said things like 'slim to none or slim to shady' and 'Cancer would chop that disaster off... like, yesterday.'"
Virgo: Yeah, that sounds like Cam.
Jackal rolled his eyes as Yuichi chuckled to himself. It wasn't funny. He watched that idiot spirit get beheaded by that monster in armor after he kept insulting her hair. And Cancer? Well, he's a joke too. His scissors are pretty damn weak on their own.
Lava Aquarius: Am I the only one who chose to surrender peacefully?
Scorpio: My arepera would never go down the way you did. Pussy.
Lava Aquarius: Opera what now?
Jackal held back his own snickering. A mellow Aquarius and a bitter Scorpio that spoke gibberish. This lacrima will drive him to arson at this rate.
Scorpio: Spanish, not gibberish! Putain de chats...
"This spirit also claimed someone must have two left feet to move "like that." It was a little bit funny," Yuichi said, closing his notebook. The human didn't sound like it was funny. What a square. "Now, what did your spirits say?"
"Let's find out," Jackal replied. He felt around the floor for his notebook, grabbing it from his lap. The pen was already placed on the page written on recently.
"Uh... Ca-me-lo-par-da-lis? Is that Spanish?"
"No, that is Latin for "giraffe." What did Camelopardalis say?"
"He says I have enough psychological damage to... have fun at parties?" he deadpanned. Fuck, this guy stinks...
Actually, I used to smell better than Columbus.
"That's... um, a good start, I think," the doctor murmured.
Jackal skimmed the next entry from Cancer. Stupid name for a half-crab human hybrid. He glared, snapping the book shut.
Fuck you, Cancer. My hair is fine.
I'm asexual, baby. I don't fuck anybody.
You should die twice.
"Cancer didn't say anything worth a damn."
You're breaking my heart, babe...
"You called someone a baby in your sleep."
"That is none of your business!" Jackal spat back, throwing the book. Yuichi instinctively smacked wherever he thought the book was going to land. Suddenly, a solid cover decked the blonde demon square in the nose, knocking him backward.
"Shoot, I'm sorry! Are you okay?" the doctor asked worriedly, searching for his fallen patient. By sheer luck, Jackal yanked Yuichi by nothing but his tie. Of course the perfect fucking prince slept in some kind of uniform.
He's no fuckin' prince, Columbus!
Columbus: He is a handsome young man just like any other prince, Jackal.
"Who the hell sleeps in uniform? Also, my fucking nose!" Jackal cursed at the human. He growled in pain when blood trickled from the healing nose wound. He flinched hard when something soft touched the moist area.
"It's just a tissue, don't worry," Yuichi reassured him. The doctor scooted closer to wipe Jackal's face. The blonde demon could've beaten his ass, clawed him, or screamed and spazzed out... But, he guessed it felt alright to be treated by a human. It was the least their species could do after all the damage fellow demons inflicted.
Plus, it's his fucking job to help me.
"Is your nose better?" the doctor asked.
"I was fine until your morning breath burned my nose hairs," Jackal grumbled.
"Nonsense, I smell just fine. It is your breath that smells like death."
Jackal stared ahead in shock. Did Yuichi just... insult him? Without missing a fucking beat?
"That was a joke. Sorry."
"I know it was a joke. I'm just surprised you had any in you."
Yuichi got up from his spot, followed by a few steps, then knocked at the door.
"It's Misono."
Jackal covered his eyes as the door opened. He immediately noticed something different. He looked at his forearms. All dark brown, breaking away into splotches up to his elbows. Then he looked at his feet. The same splotches on his fur. His fur? He had fur on his legs?
He rubbed his arms and calves. The fur on his calves was quite short, but there. He clenched and unclenched his toes. His claws were long and white. And when did they get so long?
"Is something the matter, Jackal?" Yuichi asked. Once again, the voices were quiet. Thank fuck; they were loud anyway.
Jackal stood up, stretching. He groaned, popping something in his back. Much better!
"I'm good! I could use a shower though."
"Are you hungry?"
"I have rations for that reason."
Yuichi nodded. Jackal looked at his glasses, his upper lip twitching in disgust. Star-shaped with a pastel rainbow detachable rim. His tie was an identical design. Yuichi smirked triumphantly at Jackal's reaction.
Camelopardalis: Oh, I absolutely adore this man!
Virgo: I'd let him punish me.
Lava Aquarius: Oh, brother...
Cancer: Columbus, get this human a bouquet, baby.
Columbus: Red or pinkish-white roses?
SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!
The Next Day
The outdoors were always dark regardless of the hour or cloud pattern. The endless night was so much more peaceful than a constant bright red or bleak grey. For Etherius demons, this environment was supposed to be ideal. As whatever they were now, it was kind of depressing.
After over a week of isolation, Kyôka finally got to re-enter the general population. No more coughing blood, bullet casings, or other gross bodily fluids. No more sore throat, shivering cold under three blankets, and no more bland, medicinal soup. She decided not to question the couple of abnormal secretions. Anything was possible in Purgatory, clearly.
The guards immediately got to work cleaning her cell out in their brand new hazmat suits. Kyôka wasted no time before rushing to her and Sayla's cell. She expected Minerva to also be present. Fortunately (or unfortunately), the humanoid was elsewhere that evening.
Sayla was still awake and writing. She immediately stuffed her book under her blanket, but relaxed when she saw her partner instead. The hornless demon practically jumped from bed to throw her arms around her.
"You're back!" she squealed excitedly. Kyôka immediately kissed her, hugging her waist and back. She missed embracing her like this.
"Isolation was miserable without you," the aviary demon replied. Sayla kissed back, unbothered with idle chatting at that moment. There was no telling when cell cough might split them up again. She wanted to savor every single moment while it lasted.
Sayla nearly fell when Kyôka tried to lift her up without warning. The hornless demon wrapped her arms tight behind her love—wife's neck and her legs around her wife's waist.
My wife, my wife, my wife! Kyôka grinned like a lovesick idiot. She shut the door with her foot and then sat down on their bed, still groping Sayla's butt. Sayla kissed her face all over, from her cheeks to her forehead, nose, and cleft chin.
The bird demon's metallic fingers entwined with Sayla's soft ones, kissing her lips again. The aviary demon normally wouldn't care who heard them. However, these guards were assholes who could spoil their fun if they wanted to. But also, she had other things on her mind.
Sayla tugged at the back of her shirt, attempting to take it off. Kyôka broke the kiss, pressing her finger to those soft lips.
"Nu-uh, Sayla."
"Why not? They don't control our sexuality," she pouted. She needed a break from masturbating. She wasn't asking for a lot!
"I promise I will make it up to you later. Where they won't interrupt," the buxom bird demon murmured into her ear. Sayla caressed her hands up and down her hips, thinking it over. In the end, pecked Kyôka's cheek while fixing her partner's shirt.
The hornless demon climbed off. Kyôka stacked pillows against the wall and lay back. She spread her legs for Sayla to lie against her chest. Sayla sighed contently, squeezing her wife's bosom around her face. Kyôka's chest was a perfect pair of warm pillows for the hornless demon. Unlike her wife, Sayla's chest had somehow shrunk several centimeters. She wasn't even jealous now that the back pain was gone for good.
Sayla buried her face between Kyôka's breasts, inhaling. "You smell..." Another inhale. "... Like medicine."
"Really? I smell like cell cough medicine? Almost like I was drinking it every day for a week!" The bird demon made a mind-blown gesture with her hands. Sayla gave a cheeky grin, then turned around to sit with her back against her wife. Kyôka pulled the poorly hidden notebook from underneath her.
"Where's the rest of the books?" Kyôka asked.
"You know it's not safe to disclose the location. Someone might overhear and confiscate everything."
"Right, of course. Well, fill me in. What's been going on?"
First, Sayla began on the first page of her notes. Kyôka figured she mostly wrote in French in this particular book. It was not difficult to translate. She turned each page when Kyôka gave a simple "mhmm" to continue reading. Her wife's handwriting was so neat and cute. Eventually, she turned to the pages about the riot and sabotage schemes.
"You know, this plan could easily backfire if the guards start to catch on," Kyôka commented, barely reading past the first bullet point.
"It's not a final decision, not even close," Sayla said. Then, she lowered her voice to a low whisper. "Lamy and Bird are in charge of maps and spying. Minerva will do any damage necessary as distractions. Elfine, Naomi, and Lorenzo will help wherever we decide they should help. Tempesta is putting his alchemy search to actual use, and Jackal, well..."
What was there to add? Jackal was an unknown factor. Who's to say he would even come out of his hiding place in time to help them?
"He's in the Isolation Unit, or so I've heard. He's doing a little bit of experimenting and self-discovery," Kyôka informed her wife. "I only know because some guards like to gossip with me."
"Experiment? Is he safe?" Sayla replied. Jackal hated isolation. Why would he willingly go back there without telling anybody?
"I have no idea," Kyôka shrugged. "He'll be fine, don't worry. I heard he's also with Greg and Dr. Misono."
"Oh, Greg! Good, he's in good hands," Sayla smiled.
"But forget that for now. In order to stand a chance in a riot, we have to damage their weapons. If the guards are ordered, they could shoot us all down in under a minute," Kyôka said.
"True, but Minerva absolutely refuses to get near them. Her curse is the only kind that could do so much damage, but we cannot force her to do anything."
Kyôka stayed quiet, deep in thought. Another possible solution was gaining access to firearms of their own. Numbers, knowledge, and secret communications would never be enough against their firepower.
"So, this alchemy. What exactly is the purpose of it?"
"Tempesta believes an alchemist has the power to destroy the walls and help us get our power back," Sayla answered. "I find it hard to believe, but I wish to see him prove his theory."
"Is it Jackal?" Kyôka asked. As far as she was aware, Jackal was the only one who could withstand the walls. Perhaps it was alchemy that assisted.
"No, we don't think so. An alchemist could probably still touch those walls and die. This alchemist is supposed to change the chemical components of almost anything. According to one of the new doctors, they can alter us too."
"It sounds like the alchemy on Earthland."
"There's alchemy on Earthland?"
"Guiltina, mon amour."
"Oh... Ooohhh there!" Sayla exclaimed. "No one learned of their customs because their country was not important to our goals back then. I had no idea alchemists existed there."
Kyôka hugged her wife from behind, kissing her shoulder. No wonder she was the leader of the Nine Demon Gates. If she did not do the majority of the research, nothing would have gotten done.
"Anything about the dogs in charge?" the bird demon asked.
"Oh, you don't know..." Sayla turned the page. It contained a drawing of a child with messy hair and big, black eyes. It wore a long dress, showing just the girl's tiny feet and thin arms. It was a good enough drawing of a creepy doll. Sayla always drew the best out of everyone. "Angelic, this girl here. She warned us that Jerza will come back soon. I promise she is real, but we just don't remember her. She used to write in Jackal's diaries often. That is all we have left of her. And according to her, we will be free next month."
"Huh, April..." Kyôka sighed, leaning her head back. Freedom by next month was still promised? As lovely as that sounds, it is a little bit delusional. "What else?"
"I learned a little bit about this world from Wendell and Izumi, at least where they grew up."
Sayla sat up, grinning at her wife. The aviary demon raised a brow. She was very enthusiastic, more so than usual.
"In exchange for their information, I created a sensory link. See?" she said, showing the scar around her wrist. It was tiny and reddish-pink, shaped like a heart on a thin bracelet. Kyôka grabbed her wrist, turning it over to the back of her hand, then back to the palm side.
"How many are linked? How the hell did you do it?"
"At first, I followed a traditional Maguilty sensory link. But she wanted a link that would last a long time. And so, I combined it with my Lilin Curse. It was rather experimental, then this scar appeared from a small burst of light. I only touched Izumi's wrist when I casted this spell, but her son got the same scar even though neither of us touched him."
Kyôka stared at her wife.
"Are... are you serious?"
"Very," Sayla grinned. "I wish you had been there. You wouldn't have believed the miracle I performed!"
The bird demon took a deep breath and placed her hands together as if to pray. "There could be dangerous consequences, Sayla," she warned her softly, lowering her hands. The hornless demon's smile faded. She hoped Kyôka would be happy, but it was clear to her that that so-called joy and pride were replaced with caution and weariness.
"But I'm stronger now. We don't even share physical sensations, only emotions," Sayla said.
"How is that possible? Maguilty sense is... not like that. It's magic. Curse users can't make magic as well. Maguilty isn't a curse."
"Well, mine is," Sayla said smugly. Kyôka cupped her cheeks.
"If you're okay with this, mon amour, then so am I." My beautiful little knucklehead...
Sayla closed her eyes, leaning into Kyôka's cool palms. A part of her missed Kyôka's claws, but she also loved these new hands. She loved every other part of her wife's body, from her forehead to the sharp tips of her toes. She took Kyôka's hands, kissing each palm. Sayla then cupped her wife's cheeks in the same manner. Kyôka's elf-like ears were gone, replaced with actual bird-like ear holes. And like a long-eared owl, those locks of hair by her ears rose up a little.
"You look like a startled owl," Sayla chuckled. Kyôka's aviary ears drooped back to normal, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"Your hair just stuck up like feathers," she said, petting her ear locks. The aviary demon covered her ears, blushing.
"I'm not an owl!"
Sayla gave her a look, glancing her up and down.
"Don't give me that look!" Kyôka scoffed, rolling her eyes. Sayla pressed her finger to her wife's lips, quieting her.
"Soyez silencieux," she whispered. Kyôka nodded. She grabbed her wife's notebook. She figured this information from Izumi and Wendell was basic: life in Purgatory, notable cities and countries, etc. That was not important to her just yet. She skimmed, flipped a page, skimmed some more, then flipped more pages. She stopped at the word "governess."
"Governess, deputy warden, captain, deputy chief, chief (of staff), and head of security," she muttered. "Where's your pen?"
"It's in my pillowcase," Sayla replied. Kyôka grabbed it, then started writing.
Her writing looks so much better, she mused as she watched her wife curiously. Kyôka turned the open page to her wife. As Sayla read, her jaw dropped.
March 16, X792, 5:44 p.m.
Gouvernante: Jerza FDS
Directeur adjoint: Project Council
Capitaine: Mollison Cheney
Chef adjoint: ?
Chef: Nina Delgrado Cortez
Chef de la sécurité: ?
Sayla stared at the page. Mollison? Nina? What is a Project Council?
"Remember that day I kicked Mollison's ass?"
"Yeah?"
"Mollison threatened, no, promised to have one of us executed while she was still here. It was probably the reason I was supposed to die because I was sick. Bullshit, right? Obviously that never happened, and nobody else was put on the chopping block because I got us both the labor punishment instead," she explained. Kyôka glanced towards the closed cell door. She neither heard nor smelled anybody nearby. Good. Sayla clenched her jaw, silently waiting for her wife to keep explaining.
"She and Nina left to go undercover at other prisons. Regardless, they're a pretty big deal outside. And these people," she said with her finger next to deputy warden. "They only put Jerza in charge as the face of their anonymous associates."
Sayla looked down, shaking her head. It couldn't be true. Mollison was one of their first friends in the Underworld! "She helped us pick names for Minerva's baby! How could she... How could she do this to us?"
It hurt Kyôka's metaphoric heart to see the pain in Sayla's eyes. She hated the betrayal too.
"With joyful callousness," Kyôka answered, frowning. "And that guard I beat up? He reports directly to them: the Project Council. I just put him out of commission and pretended he was somebody else. I know it was wrong to pretend he looked like one of Minerva's attackers. It was the easiest cop-out I could think of."
The hornless demon rubbed her temple, resting her elbows on her thighs. This was too much information at once. Just how much was Kyôka able to hear in isolation? It was great that some guards were dumb enough to speak so freely. But this level of free knowledge felt dangerous.
Akral kromernion.
Sayla snatched the notebook from her wife's hands, looking closely. Kyôka let go of it with her hands up. Her eyes could not deceive her. Never mind that it was almost as dark as an isolation cell. Something else appeared on the page out of nowhere!
"Take all the time you need to process it. Believe me, I was pissed when I found out."
"No, this is... It's Angelic." Sayla looked around hopefully. No one else could have written this. No one else had this handwriting. Where is she?
"Astral projection," Kyôka read aloud. What did it mean?
She ha
"There's more!" Sayla gasped. Kyôka took a closer look. She mouthed "oh my god" as more letters formed.
s to go. Only one w
ill see. And s
oon,
they will
all see
.
Sayla's hands trembled as the letters slowly filled one line of the page. Kyôka thought her wife's eyes might pop out if they bulged any wider. The bird demon looked at the page too.
"How is this possible? I couldn't have written this... Did you?" Kyôka felt foolish even asking that question, knowing the answer already.
"No, it was Angelic!" Sayla insisted, the notebook shaking in her tight grasp.
Kyôka immediately shushed her wife with metallic hands clasped over her mouth. The bird demon looked at her sternly. She couldn't deny that the mysterious handwriting matched the same strange writing in Jackal's older diaries. All the Tartaros demons read them and probably questioned Angelic's existence as well. There was no room for doubt anymore.
That stranger was real, and she had never truly left.
"I believe you, Sayla. I promise," Kyôka whispered before kissing her forehead softly. The duo stiffened at the sound of a book dropping on the floor. They turned toward the noise. Through the darkness, they both saw an open book on the floor. The hardcover read To Summon a Lost Soul in Kanaji. They exchanged looks.
"I thought you said all the books were hidden," Kyôka said.
"They are," Sayla muttered. Sayla gasped audibly in surprise at the quiet movements of a pen on paper. Kyôka held the notebook between them.
Sylvester
Take yo
u an
d show you
the way.
"Sylvester?" Sayla whispered. Was that the name of the Reaper that would help them with citizenship?
No
t Death.
"She read my mind!" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. Kyôka was honestly disturbed by this scribbling poltergeist.
So, Sylvester isn't a Reaper. Who is it, then?
I'm scared. I shouldn't be, but I am. I can't stop now. I have to finish what I started. Time is of the essence!
She waits f
or the day you
Get out a
nd die.
Sylvester
waits for
the day y
ou seek carn
age.
"Okay, this just went from weird to creepy," Sayla whispered. Kyôka leaned down, just barely crawling with only her hands to grab the book on the floor. Luckily, it was close enough that she did not have to get out of bed. The hardcover was smooth save for the title and minimalist designs along the spine. The author was a familiar Adrien figure.
Kyôka opened the book to the pages that lay on the floor moments before. The section covered astral projection. What a coincidence. Their bewildered gazes met once more. Soft scribbling on the notebook between their laps caught their attention again.
Sayla held up the notebook as a sketch rapidly drew itself. Despite the rushed work, some kind of an incantation circle gradually formed. Kyôka looked clueless, while Sayla recognized the same incantation that Tempesta memorized for his alchemist research.
"Kyôka?"
"Yes?"
"I think she wants us to use this."
"I don't even know what I'm looking at," the bird demon replied. She could tell Sayla recognized the drawing.
"It's alchemy," Sayla murmured, looking up at her wife. Kyôka shook her head slowly. No, this was a magic circle. Sure, the ancient Latin did not match any magic circle she'd ever seen, but Guiltina alchemists didn't need to draw or cast a circle to activate their power.
She glanced at the notebook once more.
K
Y
o
k
a-_\
"No... no, th-that's wrong," Kyôka whispered. "It's not true!"
"Kyôka, honey. Listen to me," Sayla grasped her wife's clenched fists. Kyôka looked down, searching for some reason why it was wrong. She had to debunk this ghost. She's not an alchemist. It's not possible! She was meant to take her curse power back! "Kyôka-sama."
The bird demon looked up. The sparkle hadn't left her wife's dark eyes. She pointed to an incantation circle drawn in the hardcover book.
"We're going to do this. If it is Angelic's will to see the truth, we have to at least try it. Do you trust me?"
"With my life, Sayla." Kyôka could put her skepticism aside just this once for her wife. The bitterness would have to wait. Sayla smiled brightly, making the bird demon's chest flutter.
I love this woman.
"I'll give it a chance, but only once."
"Good. I'll guard your body."