A draft picked up around them. Air flowed inward. Converged on their location. Cold, toxic gusts of wind. They carried it toward them. The darkness that had taken over the city. In a matter of seconds, all of it had gathered within the room. A desperate, final gambit. The witch was conceding everything just to take them out. A lightless, violent abyss consumed them. A whirling tornado filled with countless specs of black dust. Before he even realized it, Soul had untransformed and taken Maka's hand. He would not lose her again. But the light was fading. All white escaped his vision. In his final conscious moment, he heard the voice of his partner.

"I'll find you!"

He laughed. That was his line. Then again, Maka was on a crusade today. Maybe he was better off worrying about himself. The world was pitch black. He couldn't see a thing. None of his senses functioned. Soul had been completely cut off from the world around him. All he could perceive was inside his mind. A tiresome trick. The weapon called into the void.

"What do you want?"

His voice echoed back to him. It made him uneasy. All of her deceptions had been revealed. What could possibly be her game, this time? Nervousness almost turned to panic. The poison was powerful here. Any impulse was dangerous.

"Just come out and say your piece!"

Was she not in here? She had to be. There'd be no point isolating him otherwise. Unless she was with Maka. His pulse spiked. He needed to get out. Soul had no time to waste sitting around doing nothing.

"Let's wrap this up. I don't care about your lies anymore."

"Don't worry. I'm done lying."

Finally, she'd responded. She was with him. Good. That meant Maka was safe. The woman appeared in front of him. As much as there even was a front or a back in this imaginary space. She had lost the hood. For the first time, Soul could see her actual face. Her brown eyes and brown hair.

"Right. Let me just take your word for it."

"There's no point anymore. You saw the wounds. My real body is done for."

He did not trust a word she said. She had already given up? Resigned herself to defeat? Not a chance in hell.

"... what are we doing here, then?"

"I thought I'd try honesty. Just once, before the very end."

Knowing about her lies was great and all, but it seemed as though he would be forced to let her talk at him one more time. As much as her powers were limited and one-dimensional, they sure were good at what they did.

"Really? Just get it over with."

"My name is Cassandra. I am a witch. I was terribly wronged, once upon a time. By you."

She had to be kidding about this shit.

"Oh, boo hoo. You can't honestly expect me to feel bad for you."

A bitter smile. Her gaze dropped downwards.

"I care nothing for your pity. What I experienced drove me mad. Warped my view on the world. Until all I wanted was to inflict the same despair onto others. All those repugnant, happy people."

His own mindset hadn't been so different before he'd come to the DWMA. Who gave a shit?! This whole act was seriously pointless. And she just kept going.

"It never relieved my pain. So much wasted effort. Only now do I realize the error of my ways."

He scoffed.

"Let me guess. You're reformed now, so I should trust you."

She continued as though he'd said nothing.

"I don't care about torturing some random nobodies. There is but one thing that matters. That has ever truly mattered. Do you know what that is?"

Brown eyes rekindled. Drilled into him. A solemn smile became a malicious grin.

"Dragging Maka Albarn down to hell with me."

Anger. Fear. Panic. Had she already done something to his partner? He'd kill that woman. Beat her and cut her and stab her until the light left her eyes. He needed to see Maka. Needed to make sure she was fine. Right now. Soul swung at the woman in front of him. Didn't even transform his arm. The attack passed through her. She mocked him.

"You don't approve?"

Of course it had passed through her. In here, she really was a hallucination. Neither of them had an actual body to fight with. It pissed him off beyond belief. He knew he couldn't let it get to him. How could it not?! He was stuck in here! That woman could leave and do god knows what to his girlfriend whenever she wanted! Soul couldn't let that happen.

"I don't."

Talking was good. Any second she spent here was a second she couldn't do anything to Maka.

"That's too bad. Would you like to take her place?"

There was nothing to think about.

"Yeah. Take me instead."

"Hmmmm. I'm not sure I want to. She's the one I hate. But I might be convinced. If you let me in."

"Let you in?"

"Into your head. You know my abilities by now. They have limits. I just see bits and pieces. Parts of your memories and thoughts. I can't just do whatever I want. If we are to truly enjoy ourselves, you need to give me full control."

Giving his mind to this harpy had to be the dumbest thing he'd heard. Was he actually considering her proposal? Soul wasn't sure. She'd torture him. Break him. Could she do that? He knew it was all fake, now. That should make things bearable. Probably. She was getting tired of waiting.

"I can just go ask your partner, if you don't feel like it. I'm sure she'd accept."

She would. Ah, whatever. From the start, there had only been one answer to this question.

"Fine. I'll do it. What do I need to do?"

She smiled contently.

"Just give me your hand."

He did as he'd been told. The instant that their hands touched, the darkness around them disappeared. It gave way to a different scene. An impossibly high ceiling. Giant walls, covered in wood. Cushioned seats forming rows, lining the walls all the way to the top. Facing them, a large wooden elevation.

He'd been transported into a massive concert hall. It resembled one from a childhood memory. Wes had played there, once. Several thousand viewers could fit inside. Each seat was occupied. The lights were killed. A single spotlight was the only illumination present. It shone upon the figure at the center of the stage. His brother. Wes delivered an incredible performance. He always did. Hit every note with a nearly inhuman feel for rhythm. But it didn't stop there. His older sibling managed to put emotion into his play. Every sound from his violin tugged at your heart. Wes wasn't just a studied musician, he was an honest to god prodigy.

The piece ended. The masses cheered. Another flawless showing for his brother. Suddenly, white light obscured Soul's vision. Hurt his eyes. He found himself on the stage, sitting in front of a black piano. He'd become the figure within the spotlight. So that's how it was. He was next. His fingers hit the keys. He recognized the melody, but he couldn't have named it. Muscle memory carried him forward. Further and further into the piece. Soul put all of himself into his playing. Sweat dripped from his chin. The performance ended. He leaned back in the chair. Let out the air he'd been holding in.

The youngest Evans sibling nervously awaited the reaction of the crowd. No cheers erupted. Only deafening silence. He raised his eyes. Found shocked expressions on their faces. Steps echoed through the hall. Leather upon wood. An old man in a suit approached him. Looked down at him. For a moment, their eyes met. Skin hit skin. A noise like a heavy clap. Soul held a hand to his cheek. He'd been slapped. By his father. Again. His playing must have been terrible. Not just bad, but outright shocking. Embarrassing. It always was. He stared at the ground. Held back tears with all his might. The old man spoke the words he'd always had in his heart.

"You should have never been born."

The scene collapsed back into darkness. It had been fake. Nothing but a delusion. A dream. He knew that. Remembered it. Before his anxiety could even begin to subside, another landscape took shape. An oppressive darkness surrounded him. A cave, or a hole. It was tight. He needed to get out. This place was bad. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong. Rising water, a monster in the shadows. All that mattered was getting out. Escaping to somewhere else. Anywhere.

So he pushed upward. But it refused to let him go. Held him tightly. Panic set in. Soul pushed and scratched and forced his way. Was he underground? Buried alive? He couldn't die here. Wouldn't suffocate in an awful place like this. At last, he spotted a ray of light. There was a way out. An escape. His tired limbs found new energy. Entered a frenzy as he came closer and closer. His body didn't fit. It meant nothing. He ripped and tore the hole until he finally managed to get through.

Black furniture. White ceiling. Light yellow walls. He'd appeared within the infirmary of their school. A realization hit him. He'd experienced these events before. There was the smell of rust. He looked down at himself. His skin was covered in blood. Her blood. He'd emerged from Maka's stomach. Torn her body in half in the process. He was frozen in place. His left eye twitched like mad. It was an old nightmare. It was fake. It had to be fake. It needed to be fake. And it was. Right? Yeah. He knew it was fake.

The guts that had been separated and thrown onto the ground. The lifeless eyes screaming at him. The sensation of his fingernails scraping her insides. The bits of her flesh still stuck underneath them. All of it was fake. Fake. Fake. FakefakefakefakeFAKE! Soul threw up. Then he passed out.

Screams woke him. Men, women and children all yelling over each other. The bile on his clothes hadn't disappeared. Nor had those repugnant memories. He had no time to process any of it. People ran past him. Into him. Over him. They were fleeing from something. Artificial lights in a narrow space. The smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes. A crowded tunnel served as the site, this time around. Something was coming. Something big and alive. That had to be what everyone was running from. He looked around for his bike. It was half buried underneath a car. So was Maka.

They had to have crashed. He dashed over. Her leg was stuck under the pickup. One arm twisted backwards. A puddle of blood had started to form underneath her. Had he done this?! His reckless driving?! Irrelevant. Soul needed to help his partner. The car was too heavy. His arms could not lift it. He shouted for help. Nobody stopped for him. She grabbed him with her free arm. Pleaded, desperately, not to leave her behind. He would never. There had to be something he could do. Whatever abomination was chasing them sounded close now. The ground shook with each step it took.

Somebody tackled him. Locked onto his arm. Dragged him away. Maka screamed for him to stay. He struggled to free himself. No use. The monster appeared around a corner. A massive amalgamation of meat, hulking on four legs. Soul was forced to watch helplessly as the body of his girlfriend was lifted up and into its mouth. Her arm remained stretched toward him until the very last moment.

Anger overtook him. Even if helping her had been impossible, he'd wanted to stay with her. Die with her, if necessary. What piece of shit had dared to take that from him? From her?! He turned around to see their face. It was Maka. He cackled loudly. Gave up trying to understand. What the fuck. It was bizarre. Maka had saved him from pointlessly dying with Maka. That kinda sounded like a profound statement, but it wasn't. It was absolute nonsense. She dragged him behind her, undeterred by his incoherent amusement. The flesh behemoth was suddenly in front of them. His kidnapper came to a sudden halt.

Tentacle-like appendages shot forward, oozing a brown liquid. Two of them attached to his partner and lifted her up. Tore in different directions. She cried out. He laughed. It was a terrible sight. The woman he loved was dying a gruesome death right in front of him. So terrible, it was hilarious. Her arms ripped from her body. The torso fell down. Landed on the ground and disappeared beneath the abomination.

Soul was howling with laughter. On all fours, he pounded the ground with his fist as he gasped for breath. He knew he'd lost it. None of that had been funny. His brain had to have given out. Some kind of coping mechanism. Laughter subsided. Turned to shouting. Grunting. Incomprehensible, animalistic noises. He laid on his back, all limbs stretched outward. His fit had ended. He felt nothing. Not a single thought ran through his head as he calmly watched a giant, fleshy foot bury him.

He traversed countless such imaginary worlds. One more dreadful than the last. The worst possible scenarios his brain could conceive, looping endlessly. Soul soon realized he was all alone in this place. Every friendly face he encountered would either betray him or, worse, suffer in the most terrible way imaginable. It was Maka, usually. Wes, Black Star and other faces from the academy had shown up, but mostly Maka. No surprise there. She was his strength. And his weakness. Every time he'd found her, she had ended up a corpse. Or worse. Either she was already dead when he arrived, or she would soon die. All of it was staged. He was well aware. One giant torture chamber. The weapon kept repeating it to himself. Yet, his brain could only take so much. Over time, delusions overlapped memories. Began to replace them. It became an arbitrary distinction. He'd lost hope of escape. Only torment existed in his future.

Another change of scenery. Grey skies. The smell of grass. Strong, icy wind assaulted his ears. He stood on a cliff. Somewhere in northern Europe, if he had to guess. This location was unfamiliar to him. The face across from him wasn't. She was here. Maka was alive, this time. Just seeing her set him at ease. Only for a second. He remembered where he was. There was only one reason for his partner to be alive. So she could suffer. No happy ending awaited either of them. No respite.

Against his will, his brain explored the possibilities. His imagination played out every horror he could conceive. Recalled them? Some of it had already happened. Humiliation, torture, rape. He could not let that happen to her. None of it. Ever. But what could he do? He'd given over control. They were at her mercy. Powerless playthings. That wasn't entirely true. He knew what was going on. That gave him power. He could act. Even in a nightmare, there were choices to be made. So he chose. Chose to save Maka. By doing the only thing he could. Giving her the easy way out. He transformed his arm. She noticed.

"What are you doing, Soul?"

"I'm saving you."

"Huh? You're scaring me."

She didn't understand. How could she? No matter. It would be over soon. Soul approached his partner. Her back was to the cliff. She had nowhere to go. Fear was all over her face. It made him sad. But he couldn't waver. He assured her.

"I won't let you suffer."

Hesitation would only cause her more pain. The weapon rammed his arm into her stomach. It didn't pierce. Failed to even draw blood. Her skin was like iron. Nonetheless, she screamed out in pain. Maka fell backwards onto the rocky ground. She was suffering. He'd messed it up. Soul needed to finish the work. He jumped on top of her. Ran his blade-arm into her. Over and over again. She winced at every strike. Gasped for air. Why didn't it work?! Could he not even save the girl he loved?! He could not go back. Desperate hands grabbed her neck. Squeezed the life out of her. She tried to fight back, but her weak arms couldn't stifle his grip. A breathless voice begged him for mercy.

"Ack- Soul! Stop! Why?!"

Hands tightened. Why didn't she die?! He was hurting her! It was for her own good! Her throat had been crushed, yet she kept breathing. How?! Soul picked up her head with both hands. Slammed it into the ground. Again. And again! And again! Each impact cracked her skull. Caused fluid to leak onto him. Not enough. She still lived. More slams. More blood. What the fuck was he doing?! He cried. And he screamed. Finally, her cranium burst. The lonely cliff had become a murder site. Green grass turned reddish brown. Brains and bones covered him and her. What was left of her. He felt sick. What had he done?! It was alright. She was safe now. Could rest. Until the next nightmare.

A hand twitched. Clutched his arm. Nails dug into skin. She was alive. After all that she still lived. And she was angry. Of course she was. He had killed her. Gruesomely torn her apart. And for what?! Nothing else had even happened! It would have been fine! Something inside him broke. He slowly got up. From within the gory remains of his partner's head, a single eyeball stared at him. Tracked his movements with a tiny pupil.

Small, deliberate steps carried him forward. Toward the cliff. Whether this world was real or false or anything else was irrelevant. Soul couldn't stay here. Not one more second. Not after what he'd done. What he'd failed to do. Standing over the abyss, the weapon took one more step. He fell forward. His body arched downward. Head shot past his torso. But his feet didn't follow. The descent came to a sudden halt. Something had grabbed his foot. It gripped tightly, pulled upwards, and slammed him into the rocks on the plateau.

"Did you think I would just let you go? After what you did to me?!"

Maka's skull had been haphazardly reassembled. The left eye was missing. One cheek agape. The skin had been scratched off her chin and forehead and half her hair had been lost.

"Maka... I'm so sorry... I was trying to protect you..."

She screamed at him, eyes mad with rage.

"You choked me to death! Crushed my skull! Do you have any idea what that feels like?!"

"No! I-"

"Shut up! I'll show you."

She crawled towards him. He could run. He wouldn't. Eyes shut tight. This was punishment. He deserved it. He wanted her to torture him. Soul needed to suffer. How else could he ever make this right?! Her bloody body reached his. It was cold. Soft hands found his throat. He offered no resistance. They suddenly loosened. Fell away. He hesitantly looked up. A blade had pierced her chest. Black and red. Maka's body fell over, revealing yet another Maka. This one was different. Her body was whole. She wore a black dress. Most importantly, she wielded him. Him? How could that be? He had encountered countless versions of her, but none of them had had their weapon. Of course not. He was right here. Did that mean she was real? The actual Maka? Soul didn't dare get his hopes up. His partner couldn't have made it here. She had no means of entering his mind. The girl offered him a hand. He eyed it skeptically as he questioned her.

"How can you be here?"

"We're still in Resonance, so our minds are connected. Besides, I said I'd find you, didn't I?"

Had she? It felt like an eternity had passed since he'd shook that woman's hand. He vaguely remembered. She had. Soul pointed to her scythe.

"How can you have that weapon?"

She followed his finger, then shrugged.

"I dunno. We're in your head. Maybe this is just how you imagine me."

She motioned with her extended hand and renewed her offer.

"You ready to get out of here?"

This one was aware of the situation. Did that mean anything? No. What the fuck kind of explanation was 'I dunno', anyway? It was a trap. His tormentor had to have realized he was growing numb. She would give him hope, only so he could be crushed all over again. Soul could not take any more. Trusting this girl was out of the question. The risk was too great.

And still, he took her hand. He hadn't meant to. Had wanted to decline. But she had smiled at him. That same confident, playful grin from before. Before? When had he last seen it? Nothing came to mind. Only pained expressions. Distorted, in agony. No, he'd seen it. Before all this. She pulled him up and into an embrace. Her body was warm. Automatically, his muscles relaxed. He slouched against her. Any resolve to keep his guard up evaporated. She held him close. Tears began to fall. The horrors he'd endured, the trauma he'd been burying surfaced all at once. Reserved, distant Soul Evans cried silently into the dress of his partner. She whispered softly.

"It's okay. I've got you."

There were a million things he wanted to say. To ask. But his eyes kept running. Quiet sobs left him starved for air. He tried to force out words in between them. Almost choked in the attempt.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

Soul would trust that. Trust her. He gave up trying to hold back. Let everything just come forward.

"I- You- You died! So many times!"

She listened patiently. Addressed his concerns. Her voice pierced right through the tough exterior he'd built up. Soothed every infected wound on his soul.

"Shhh. I'm here. I'm alive."

"Look what I did to you! With these hands!"

He tried to look at the disfigured body to his right. Maka didn't let him. She tightened her hold. Submerged him even deeper in her dress.

"Don't. It's not real. Just focus on me."

"It hurt so much..."

"I know."

They remained in that intimate position for a long time. Maka gently caressed his hair and rubbed his back until he had fully cried himself out. His partner really hadn't gone anywhere. She held him, still. He raised his head. She smiled and spoke.

"Better now?"

"Yeah..."

"Then let's go."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Give me your hand and focus on my wavelength. Like during Resonance."

Soul had agreed to another such handshake, a long time ago. It had not ended well for him. This was different. He'd already decided to put his faith in his partner. In this image of her. One more time, he shook hands. He woke up laying on a tough, uneven surface. A street. The weapon felt like shit. His back hurt. His arm, his head. It would've been easier to name the limbs that weren't currently causing him pain. He quickly sat up and dragged himself to a nearby wall so he could lean against it. The endless horror he had just been released from suddenly seemed very far away. It was beginning to fade from his memory, like a dream after waking up.

Soul scanned the area. They were outside Black Star's apartment. Maka lay not far from him. She was in the process of waking up, herself. He waved at her. Her drowsy brain took a second to process the situation, then she moved over and sat down next to him. Going off her torn and bloody dress, she had to be feeling just as beat as he did. Regardless, they'd made it. He couldn't suppress a sarcastic comment.

"Tough night?"

Maka started a cough that soon turned into laughter.

"You could say that."

The details of what had happened still eluded him. Maybe she'd know.

"So how did you get us out of there?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Huh? I don't understand."

She gestured toward the apartment ruins in front of them. There floated a red soul above green robes.

"That woman died a while ago."

"Then how did- But I was-"

"Trapped, I know. But her technique ended upon her death. By the time I got to you, all that was keeping you there was-"

"...my own head."

"Mhm."

Telling him to focus on her wavelength had been meant to calm him down, he guessed. What a joke. He'd spent what felt like years being tortured. Now it turned out most of it had been completely unnecessary. Caused by his own anxiety. Maka was selling herself short, though. She had calmed him down, if nothing else. Assuming that his own mind had been his captor, that had to have been what had set him free.

"Why are we out here, anyway?"

She motioned to the left with her head. Gazing in that direction, he spotted Black Star's body.

"That guy pulled us out. Seems like he's borderline immune to psychological attacks."

There was a hint of dissatisfaction in her voice.

"Is Tsubaki alright?"

"I think so. He got her out, too. They took her to the academy."

His vision had returned to normal and his thoughts were clear. It did seem the danger had passed. Thank god. You couldn't have paid him enough to put in any more work that night. Nor would his legs have been able to support him. That was fine. The longer he sat on the cold asphalt, the more comfortable it felt. Black Star was solidly passed out a few meters away. Had they left him behind when they'd come to take his partner? Oh well. Dude would be fine. Noone else seemed to be around. After zoning out for a few minutes, Soul got Maka's attention again.

"Hey, Maka?"

She tilted her head towards him so he went on.

"Sorry about not listening to you before."

Her shoulders shrugged in an exaggerated fashion.

"It's fine. My own fault for falling in love with an idiot, really."

Both of them laughed. An insult had never been so reassuring.

"You're not... gonna tell anybody about what happened in there, are you?"

"Are a few tears that much of a threat to your alpha male persona?"

They absolutely were. Black Star could never hear of this.

"No! I mean, I don't have an alpha male persona..."

He wouldn't call it that, at the very least. She giggled.

"Yea, yea. I won't expose you, don't worry."

"I'd kiss you, but I'm definitely gonna vomit if I get up again."

"You really are romantic, you know that? Save it for later, Romeo."

Around forty minutes later, DWMA forces reached their position and all three of them were relocated to the already overcrowded sick wing of the school.