1
A deep violet hue encompassed the sky, drowning the white in its dark complexion. Light snow fell on Buta as she struggled to properly fit herself with a heavy attire, the chill of the place already setting in. I’ll dress my wounds after… she thought, dragging a thick fur coat over her body. Sitting in the snow, she put on heavier boots and pants to match, before stopping a moment and staring at the vast horizon.
It was a wasteland. The only thing that populated it were small leafless bushes that barely qualified as trees, only close enough to each that calling it a forest wasn''t too much of a stretch. Just a flat snowy sea of nothing… and Winter would be worse.
She pulled out a vial and drank it, immediately letting out a sigh of relief she pulled out the same crystal device that they called Slogine on before. Her thumb hovered silently over a light-blue shard… She sunk her head low before finally pushing it. It began to hum. After an agonizing moment, an equally agonizing sound signaled its success in reaching the other device it was paired with.
There was silence from the end for a second before he answered.
“Hello?” Slogine said. “Buta? Frey? What happened?”
She fell forward and sunk her face into the snow, muffling everything.
“Who picked up the phone?” he asked, coughing a small amount which made her raise her head from the purple cold. “Hello?”
She pulled the device closer to her lips, opening them as if to say something.
“Hello? Hello?” he repeated. “This isn’t funny…”
Then she threw it hard, her Glow on to help. A look of indescribable anger and sadness followed it before she sunk her head in the snow and screamed, punching into it with her gloveless hands until she could barely feel them… Gult and Frey were dead. And the killers had gotten away with it.
She sat back up and rested on her calves, blankly staring into the endless fields in front of her. How useless am I? she asked herself. That I needed her to protect me… What kind of mother…? She should’ve forced her to fight together. Why didn’t she? Why didn’t she force her only daughter to do the one thing that might’ve saved her life?
Because you’re useless. All it took was one look from her, one threat of an argument to get you to back down. How can you face Slogine after that?
Buta didn’t know; but she did know she was cold. She stood up and began to walk.
“I need to set up camp…” she muttered.
She staggered along the wastes, expressionless and empty.
2
Vincenzo fell through the dark, only able to see Frey by the small patches of white on her blood-stained clothes. Luckily, her limbs were outstretched, making her stall slightly. He put his arms by his side and faced straight down, gaining more speed before throwing his own arms and legs apart when he did reach her. That was the easy part. Finally, he wrapped his arms around her.
It was almost pitch black at that point, and there was no way to tell how much longer it would take to reach the bottom—if there even was one. He opened the pouch and fished inside using the centrifugal force of the fall to keep everything inside as he did, searching for what he needed. The scream of the wind filled the air, almost loud enough to drown out the voice in his head.
“ALL YOU NEED IS A BIT OF ENERGY FOR MANA, RIGHT?!” he asked, still fishing around.
She didn''t answer, still unconscious.
“AND WITH JUST A BIT, YOUR BODY WOULD USE IT UNCONSCIOUSLY TO SAVE YOU! RIGHT?!”
He had no idea but hoped it would. It worked for him after all…
He pulled out an orage and shoved small portions into her mouth, even moving her chin up and down to help with the chewing… The wind crashed against them both as he struggled to tie the bag against her, knowing that its contents would be useless if they fell with him. That''s good enough… he thought, hopefully. Letting go of her he started drifting away. He couldn’t risk weighing her down if that was going to be an issue. It was best to fall alone. See ya’ at the bottom.
The wind was near deafening at that point as he could feel it drag against the skin of his cheeks and eyelids, throwing them apart in a way that was starting to get painful. He looked over to see Frey slowly grow farther and farther away… away and up. She seemed to be getting lighter. He let out a small sigh of relief before facing the ground—or whatever laid at the base of the forest—and started brace himself.
Now, how should he land? Would curling up in a ball be advantageous? Or maybe he should spread his limbs as far as possible? It wasn’t like he’d been in this situation before… Eventually he curled his body up in as tight of a ball as he could manage and tightened every muscle, trying also to keep his head upside down to keep his brain close instead of having it splat everywhere…
“Yo!” someone greeted.
The eye-covered thing was back. It was right under him, looking up and standing on nothing as if the fall wasn''t affecting it in the slightest. It stayed five feet under him the entire way and its voice carried itself above the constant screams of the air. “How''s it going?”
He didn''t answer or even look; he only closed his eyes and waited for impact…
“It''s rude to ignore people…” it muttered. “Listen, I get that you''re mad. I really do. But did you really have to kill us both just to spite me? Like, come on! And that knife too, that was dick move!”
Vincenzo didn''t even think to respond as his speed continued to increase.
It sighed in annoyance. “Whatever!” it shouted. “Just make sure to catch the gear when it falls, and try to make a fire as quick as you can! Whatever’s down here is afraid of light, remember…”
Then it faded back into a white smoke that he passed through the same way he imagined parachuters shot through clouds, and thought that it was pretty on the money considering what he was doing and all. Thanks for the advice, asswipe… he thought spitefully.
He crashed, his head burying itself deep into what was left of his stomach, the rest of his body scattering in a cloud of red…
There was a bottom.
3
Cammo looked around frantically. Jumping from branch to branch, he called her name with increasing anxiety, before finally settling down back near his gear. To him, the answer was clear: she went after the hiddunson. She went after answers.
He got up and grabbed his pack, making way for the entrance to Winter. Vincenzo can find his own way back, he thought. If he was even alive, that was. I need to find Plum.
4
Buta passed through the area in between with a dead face and made it to Winter. The constant blizzard worked to her favor as it pushed her along the pristine hills of snow, all until she located one of the many caves in the area. She entered, sat near the mouth, and started a small fire before undressing to examine her wounds. They were bad, but she’d live.
“Hi…” a small voice mumbled from the entrance.
Buta whipped around to face it, surprised, her four eyes scared and wide. The small emp girl stood in the snow, clad head to toe in thick pink clothing to shield against the cold while a large red scarf covered most of her face. A thin layer of dusty white clung to it. Buta looked at her blankly for a moment. She was alone. From what Buta could see, the emp—the small girl and their only target—was completely alone. It confused her, but it was also a chance she wouldn’t pass up.
“You''ll freeze to death out there,” Buta finally said. “Come in and warm up.”
She poured alcohol on her thigh with a wince and rubbed a thick green substance in the wound before bandaging it. Plum—that was her name, Buta remembered—entered. She stuck close to the opposite wall and removed her scarf.
“Does it hurt?” the emp asked.
Buta turned around, showing the deep gash on her back.
Plum turned off.
“Don’t look away,” Buta said, peeking over her shoulder. “It was your father who did this, after all.”
Plum looked back and studied the mess with guilt.
Buta could use that. The Hiddunson put the jar of green shit down on her side. “Now come and put this medicine in. I can''t reach it.”
“No,” said the girl. “I’m not going near you…”
The woman scowled. “She’s dead because of you, you know,” Buta claimed. “Your friend killed her protecting you. And if you’re fine with that, why’d you even save me? Now come help.”
Plum paused, looking a little sullen. “You mean the bird-person?”
“I mean, Frey,” Buta corrected, a bite in her voice. “My daughter.”
Plum didn''t speak.
“It''s your fault,” she said. “The least you could do is this.”
Plum opened her mouth to answer but Buta’s icy glare closed it. The emp inched close and grabbed the jar; removing her gloves, she sunk her small hand in and pulled out a smelly glob of the green, gagging as she rubbed the gunk on the exposed flesh. The woman flinched and cringed at the touch of it, before waving her off and wrapping bandages around herself to cover the wound. Plum backed away and sat on the back of her ankles across the fire, twiddling the end of her long braid nervously.
“So…” Buta began, opening a bottle of hard ale to drink, not to heal. “What do you know?”
“Why are you asking me?” Plum asked, pulling out her own canteen. “I came here because you''d tell me something…”
“I will,” she clarified, pausing to take a large gulp. It was fire down her throat, but she didn’t cough, downing it with an ease she’d never felt before. “But first tell me: why do you think I’m here?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Plum studied her for a moment as Buta wrapped a large blanket around herself, drinking hard the entire time. She held the bottle high over her head as she chugged it. The emp was scared, but she spoke bravely. “My father told me that wealthy people thought that eating a wizard would make them a wizard.” The sip she took from her canteen was small and nervous. “And they’d pay a lot of money for one… And that the Guerrieros wanted wizards, too.”
Buta chuckled a little before taking another large swig followed by a satisfied sigh, already feeling the strong drink take effect. “That''s half right,” she said. “That happens—mainly to emps, actually, now that I think about it—but that''s not why I’m here.”
Plum''s cautious expression became sad. “Then why are you here?”
Buta corked the drink and set it aside. The mouth of the cave darkened a small amount, and the blizzard grew more violent, small walls of snow starting to accumulate around the edge of their hidey-hole. “Has he told you of the Guerrieros?” the rock-skinned woman asked back. “Because it’d be very worrying if he hadn''t…”
“He did,” Plum stated, regaining her composure a small amount.
“And explained why they do what they do? What they give for little girls like you?”
Plum’s eyes shifted downwards. “No… no, he didn’t say why… He just told me to stay away from Vincenzo.”
“Vincenzo…” Buta repeated, the emotion draining on her face. She hated that name. It was an ugly, brutish name for an ugly, brutish man. That abyss will be his grave. That is a comfort, at least. Down there he was sure to suffer, too. That brought a smile. “Well, would you like to know?”
Plum gave a slow nod and pulled out a small orage from her bag, nibbling at it, eating as nervously as she drank. Buta was too angry to acknowledge the anxious resemblance she and Frey shared, but she did see it—if only for a second.
“Countries give them children as a tax, and they get to continue standing. But if you give them one as an individual, you get paid… a lot. But you don’t need to be paid gold if it’s not gold you want. You can make requests. That’s why we’re here. We want you so we can make a request.”
Plum stopped eating and stared at her, her huge, smooth red eyes wide.
“You know why I’m here…” said Buta. “Slogine has been given the means to take you to them in an instant, and that’s very, very good for us because time is very much of the essence. That''s why I need you to come back with me.”
The emp swallowed the last of her small meal, silent as a mouse. She spoke again after another minute. “Why did my father keep it a secret?” Plum asked, before looking at the woman defensively. “And why do you think I’d go with you?”
“Probably because he thought you''d go willingly. If you knew what kind of request we were trying to make, you’d have a different view.”
The emp seemed skeptical. “And what kind of deal is it?”
Buta watched the girl silently, before laying down a sleeping bag and lying in it. Plum watched in increasing impatience. It was when she was truly unnerved that Buta started: “There''s a disease going around; not a very large-scale outbreak but sizable, nonetheless. A very deadly disease. All those who catch it die… and it''s incurable. There’s only one way to even slow it: a steady stream of particular medicinal herbs… Expensive herbs. And as I’ve said, they only postpone the inevitable.” The hiddunson narrowed all four eyes at the girl who had started to go a deathly pale. “It gets at the lungs. It gets them real bad, girl, and the ones with it die coughing blood, their throats torn to shreds. Hundreds, girl. A small number in the grand scheme, but enough to make a sacrifice over. Hundreds of mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandmothers, grandfathers: all doomed. That is enough to fight over. That is enough to lose an ear over.”
But not enough to lose Gult and Frey. If Buta could turn back time, she would. Even if Slogine died in the process. As a father, he’d understand. And if he understood back then, then he’d have the same idea.
The emp looked a hair away from passing out, her mouth slightly open, her long ears drooping low, her purple skin light to an almost white, and her eyes windows to the guilt eating at her.
It was time for the killing blow. “That''s what your mother died from.”
Tears started to flow down Plum’s face, but she made no noise.
“Farmers who had sick children and wives came to help us, only to get slaughtered. My son came to get you, only to get slaughtered. My daughter came with me, only to get slaughtered. Now, it''s just me and Slogine…”
That broke the emp and she started making noise; that noise was weeping.
“It''s your choice whether or not you join me back. But judging from your reaction I see you''ve already made it…” the hiddunson muttered. “Go to sleep.”
Buta shut her eyes and beat the emp to it.
5
Cammo found himself in the purple wasteland between Fall and Winter. He neared the entrance for Winter and stopped just before the invisible wall, examining a pair of footprints disappearing behind it… One set was smaller than the other. The smaller set was fresher as well.
Just like I thought, he thought grimly.
He pulled extra layers of warm fur before entering, knowing full well that failing to cover himself well would be a cold death, and then he went through. The blizzard ran violently into his face as he marched onwards, following the small, fading imprints of boots the entire way…
6
It was cold and dark at the bottom. That was his first thought. Vincenzo pieced himself back together and threw the bloody rags and leather that once constituted clothing aside; the cold nipped at his naked torso forcing shivers down his spine. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all. It was all too familiar. An arm getting lopped off, getting his head smashed, getting guts spilt—that, he could handle. But the way his skin tore and every bone in his body broke, the way his body turned inside out and back again, the way it all went dark for a second—it wasn’t a great experience. He shivered in the dark for just a second, the cold of the sun-forgotten depths on par with the night prior; but this time, he had no coat and no fire. He forgot the chill the moment his own voice piped up from the black.
“That hurt?” it asked, not sounding concerned.
It was too dark to really see, but he could tell it was hanging around somewhere. In the spur of the moment, he decided to name it, and because he had better things to think about, he didn’t think too hard.
“Really?” it questioned. “Eyes? Don''t be an asshole. You could come up with something better than that.”
Vincenzo did not respond as he crouched in the dark and felt for anything of use. The ground was dank and somewhat loose. Probably fallen leaves, he guessed. Some at the very top were still dry; he gathered what he could carry and created a pile, searching for tinder too; he found it and crushed it over top. He needed his pouch to get a fire going—he felt it was necessary, then—but he knew he had to wait.
“You feel that, right?” Eyes asked. “That weird sensation? It''s kind of like a phantom limb, ya’ know?”
He did notice it. Something was slightly submerged in the rotten muck behind him only a few feet away. He had no way to see it, or feel it, or even smell it, but he knew it was there. Vincenzo knew exactly where it was. “Shut up. I''m already on it,” he said, crawling towards it on all fours to better keep his orientation. He dug his arms deep inside the muck and pulled it out. “Holy shit!”
He slapped the gunk off it and rubbed it down, feeling twin barrels of metal and a wood handle. He cracked a grin. Heavy Metal was his again. Guess this isn’t so bad, he thought. This’ll make everything a lot easier.
“Nice!” Eyes said.
Vincenzo’s good feeling fell way with his smile. If he could kill the thing, he would.
“We’ve got Heavy Metal!”
“Don''t you ever shut up?” he asked, crawling back to the pile. “Dumbass…”
“Jesus, are you still mad about the wings?” it asked. “ ‘Cause they probably landed nearby, so once that fires set up, we could eat ‘em. Wouldn''t be a total waste then.”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. He had his life and Frey’s to worry about. Using some of the last of his mana, he turned some moldy leaves into a shell.
“So, what are you doing?” it asked. “Hell, I don''t even know why I’m asking. We share the same wave of consciousness after all… Same thoughts. You know me, I know you. Or rather, I know what you’re thinking.” The smile was in its voice. “But you don’t know what I’m thinking…”
Vincenzo emptied the shell''s contents and set it on top. He still needed timber, but he couldn''t just carve out a tree with his abysmally low mana. He’d been fighting the exhaustion that dragged every limb down into the muck the moment he put himself back together, wanting more than anything to just pass out… but he couldn’t let that happen. He needed to build that fire and get Frey close or else both of them would be dead.
“Don’t worry about it, she should be landing soon,” it commented. “You''ll hear her drop… but look for twigs in the meantime.”
He silently ran his hands along the top layer of leaves, eventually finding some good enough to add to the pile. He grabbed the empty shell and smashed the primer with Heavy Metal’s barrel, splashing lively sparks on the kindling. The small flame was helped along by his passionate breaths of life until it spread along all the fuel, becoming a real fire. It was small, weak, and almost certain to blow out—but real. And it was real enough to beat off part of the darkness. Around him, at least.
“There she is,” his hallucination said. It pointed its finger somewhere behind him.
He turned to see Frey floating face down in a pool of stagnant water. The bag he tied to her floating uselessly beside her lifeless form…
How did he know? he wondered. How?
“Shit!” Vincenzo said, jumping in the murky water. “Shit! Shit!”
“What a shame…” Eyes mumbled, sinking below the dirty liquid along with him. “This is boring, so I''ll be back later. See ya’ then.”
Vincenzo carried her back near the warm embrace of the fire and gently laid her down.
Is… is she… he thought, not wanting to finish it. He leaned close to her mouth to feel breath. He felt none. But that could’ve meant a number of things… He concentrated on whether he could see her breathe. Turning his head, he watched her breasts to see any change.
Her chest didn’t rise or fall. That’s a very bad sign, he thought, and put two fingers where her carotid artery would be; a small pulse was thumping. He’d have let out a sigh of relief if she was actually breathing, but then again, she wasn’t. He was on borrowed time.
Jumping to the top of her head, he knelt down and placed four fingers near the end of her jaw and pulled: a move that was supposed to open her airway, causing more than a bit of pain along with it to maybe jolt her awake—but she didn’t. She was just as still and unresponsive as when he dragged her out.
“Damn!” he yelled, moving to her side. There wasn’t time to think anymore.
He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, breathing into her twice before placing his large hand in between her breasts one on top of the other, then he started to push down hard in a rhythmic manner. When he finished thirty shoves, he gave her the kiss of life again and continued this process over and over… The occasional crack of her ribs under the pressure of his weight only stopped him for a moment, but he apologized and continued on, knowing that something like that couldn’t be helped. If she lived with a broken rib, that’d be fine. If she died with pristine ribs, it wouldn’t.
“Come on, come on…” he whispered, leaning in for another two breaths. He gave them to her. “Come on! Please! Come on, Frey, you can do it!”
He needed her to do it. He needed her to live.
“Please!” Tears came to his eyes as he pressed down. “Come on! COME ON! Wake up! Please!” There was a crack in his voice and the bottom of the abyss seemed even colder and darker. “Frey! Wake up, Frey! Come on, wake up! Goddamnit, wake up! Wake up!”
He leaned down for another kiss—
And the moment the first breath entered he could feel her body spasm!
The bird-girl coughed violently, sending black water right out her lungs the same way a fountain would, with just about as much force, her whole body heaving along.
“Yes!” he yelled. He turned her on her side. “You’re almost there, just keep vomiting. You need all that water out.” The grimy liquid kept pouring; more when she coughed hard. “Yeah, that’s it.” He patted the top of her back, careful not to hit on or near the fresh caverns that made up her wound. “Come on, just a bit more. You can do it. You’re almost there… I’ve got you… You’re okay now…”
Eventually, she emptied out her lungs and started to breathe normally. Vincenzo let out a sigh of relief before noticing yet another problem. Her teeth started to clack while her body curled up from the frigid temperature, an action that reminded him of his own shivering body. We’re gonna freeze, he realized, finally realizing how cold her wet clothes were. We survived the fall, she lived through the drowning, but if I don’t do something, we’re gonna freeze. He pulled both of their bodies closer to the fire which seemed to help. Her soft skin was the only warmth besides the dull flame.
“Oh, look at that…” Eyes started, peeking out from inside the fire. For some reason that Vincenzo couldn’t pinpoint, the thing felt the need to appear out of the weirdest of places. “Good job, man!”
He ignored it as he pulled out some dry timber from inside the bag.
“Good thing the inside was lined with leather or that might have been really bad.”
Throwing some of the wood on the flames caused it to roar to life, which almost stopped their shiver… almost.
“I figured out some stuff about myself ya’ know. From what I can tell: I know everything you think, unconscious or not, but not vice versa.”
“That''s nice…” Vincenzo grumbled dismissively, casting aside Frey’s wet clothes. She was naked but it was necessary. If he hadn’t done it, she’d freeze… It was necessary. “But as you see, I’m busy… Fuck off, won’t you?”
“Whatever she is, she''s pretty weird,” Eyes said, climbing out of the fire as if it had done it a million times before. “Same thing with Cammo too. They’re short but also not, ya’ get what I mean?”
“Mmm…” he grunted, rubbing the same red stuff Cammo had thrown him to help with sunburn into her back, taking time to have her drink some too. He vaguely remembered the emp saying it was good both ways.
Eyes ignored it and kept on his monologue: “You could tell that Cammo’s a tall guy for an emp, with his long limbs and shit.”
Vincenzo laid out two blankets and laid her down on her stomach, sandwiching her between the two while he wrapped a third around himself, still shivering violently. He set her blood-stained dress flat along the leaves. They won''t be clean, but they''ll be dry, he thought. Better than being wet, I think.
“And bird-girl,” it said. Vincenzo clenched up. “She’s short but she still looks like a woman, ya’ know?”
“Fuck off,” he said, sipping red medicine. It was bitter, more than anything he had in his life, but he needed it. “Don''t you have anything better to do?”
“Nah, not really… Anyway, she’s a woman ya’ know. Nice tits, nice ass, the whole thing, just smaller. Ah! Ah! I know how to explain it now! They''re like an image on a computer where you click on the corner of it, and drag it to the other corner, and it gets smaller. Ha! That’s actually perfect. Like she got hit by a shrink ray. It’s fine. She’s of age, ya’ know. She could take a cock I bet. We’re huge, but she’ll manage.” It laughed. “I bet she’d tight as fuck too! Hell, just look at her! It’s fine, you’re not a weirdo for getting turned on, I swear.”
Vincenzo laid his head on one knee and closed his eyes. “Just… shut up…”
They were dry, they had light, and they had heat. He could pass out finally. He did.