Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hey, all! It's Ros!e (the actual human, not the OC), and I welcome you to the hot mess express that is this DSMP fanfic. Before we dive deep, however, let's clear up a couple of points, shall we?

Warnings

While I tried my darndest to insert as much fluff into this fic as possible, it still definitely qualifies as hurt/comfort. What's that one tag I see people using on Ao3 all the time? "It Gets Worse Before it Gets Better?" Yeah, well. Same instance here. Therefore, if you aren't partial to topics of:

- religion (specifically Christianity),

- violence,

- blood,

- gore (nothing horribly graphic, but still gore),

- body horror,

- mental manipulation (derealisation, depersonalisation, experimentation, etc.), and/or

- c!Dream being c!Dream,

I highly recommend you click off of this fanfic. When it gets intense, it gets intense. I apologise in advance. :'D

Disclaimers

I have two things I'd like to say here.

First off, religion. This entire fanfic is pretty rich in religious imagery, specifically relating to Christianity and Biblical times. (Church Prime, for example, has a lot of Christian parallels, with Tubbo being the Reverend.) However, these undertones were intended to aid the overall theme, character arcs, and good vibes of the story. (And honestly, at first, it wasn't even a planned story component. I was just in the middle of writing/editing about six months before this fic's release, and...things and parallels kinda just clicked, ya know? The whole purpose of this fic's Christian themes is to aid happiness, not add to the dark and angsty stuff.)

However, with that being said, I'd like to make this clear right now: I am in no way, shape, or form trying to indoctrinate or force my religion upon anyone. This fic was made with the purpose of entertainment and entertainment only, and if the religious parts bring you comfort, more power to you. If you're comfortable with subjects like the ones listed thus far, feel free to read this! If you're not comfortable, then there's no obligation to read. I promise. Everyone has their own reading preferences, right? Let's all just try and vibe together. <3

Alright, second thing is a whole lot more simple: general disclaimers and copyright stuff about the fic. This is an AU and an OC fic, all rolled into one. It takes place far, far after Kinoko Kingdom times, and has a lot of...to be truthful, out-there spins on canon. Any unintentional inaccuracies will (hopefully) be few and far between, but if there are some, please don't be afraid to let me know. (Hell, if you find even something as seemingly trivial as a spelling botch-up, lemme know.) I'll either try my best to edit it or, if it's an inaccuracy that I really can't fix without botching up the fic, save it for future reference.

(On that note, if there's anything in here you guys know for a fact the content creators will be upset with, please let me know about that, as well. Don't need any of the actual OGs getting mad. XD)

...Okay. I think that's about it! Don't worry; despite all the angsty stuff I warned about here, I'd still like to think this is a decent fic. Feel free to let me know how you guys feel about it!! I hope you enjoy...

...and, as always, remember to never put popsicles in your coffee.

Okay, Joe; roll 'em!!

Chapter Text

"He who receives an idea from me, receives instruction himself without lessening mine; as he who lights his taper at mine, receives light without darkening me."

              - Thomas Jefferson

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People in the town had always wondered if the church housed spirits of the twilight. It was the stuff of nonsense, obviously...well, unless one counted the pastor.

Reverend Toby was his name- Tubbo for short, or for when he was spending a moment with his chums. Of course, he was doing less and less of that as of late, ever since he became ordained as Church Prime's pastor. Writing sermons had taken up the vast majority of his time ever since that fateful day, and though he knew he mustn't complain...the constant stress was beginning to take its toll. For the past fortnight, a pew closest to his revered pulpit had become a temporary bed, in which he would (quite literally) fall upon each evening, exhausted beyond comprehension.

This night was no different. It was a frigid November eve, when writer's block gnawed at the Reverend's senses almost as much as the wailing wind outside. Branches of a tallow tree right next to the church's doors thwunk-a-thwunked without mercy against the oak and mortar. The Reverend sat in his musty office downstairs, penning away on a sheaf of yellowing parchment, with naught but a couple of candlesticks, an ancient text, and faith to guide him along. The underground perch gave him some reprieve from Mother Nature's cacophony, but he still had to keep readjusting his woollen coat to keep from catching a cold. The blasted hood kept slipping down, exposing the sensitive keratin of his horns to the dank atmosphere.

After a considerable amount of hours of this monotone pattern- write a few lines, ponder, shiver painfully, ponder some more- inspiration for the night finally ran dry. The Reverend closed his journal and capped his inkwell with a feeling of dread plastering itself to his gut- if he went upstairs, it would take an utter miracle to be able to fall asleep.

Oh, well, he thought with a sigh and a bone-popping yawn.

At least the service wasn't for another four days; he could afford to lose...some time.

Hopefully.

Hopefully...

Oh, but...did he have to go upstairs? It would be closer to the surface, closer to the storm...

Closer...to...

The Reverend's breathing began to slow, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It looked like he wouldn't be sleeping in the pew that night.

*****

The morning's sun rose upon a nation trashed and quiet, with water and leaves and branches scattered about in a horrifyingly reckless manner. Birds that once never ceased to sing were now as quiet as the air. And though the temperature had warmed, one still couldn't help but feel chilled at the sight of that blood-orange star rising above the horizon.

The Reverend, having just awoken from a decent slumber, stumbled upstairs and unbolted the creaky church doors, letting the multi-coloured light from the stained glass windows spill out into the grave-world...

But then he noticed something. Something that had not been there the night before...had it been left there during the storm?

Who in their right mind...?

Craning his head outside the Reverend saw some strange object tied to the handle of the right door. It looked like a banner- or was it a ribbon?- waving in the sleepy breeze. It was dyed in a black-and-white, chequer sort of design...wait. Not entirely black and white.

Was that a red splotch?

Anxiety and curiosity got the better of him, and he untied the ribbon at a breakneck pace. In doing so, a miniscule slip of paper fluttered to the moist steps, which he snatched up before it could be dampened. It was so small that the words written upon it could hardly be read; whoever had tucked it into the cloth had obviously known what they were doing.

I don't have a lot of time. I have to leave before I do anything else. Before I hurt anyone else. Can I trust you to do what we promised?

...Wait.

The Reverend's mind went on full alert all at once, the dazed sheen over his eyes evaporating into the ether.

...This soon? How was this happening this soon?! Oh, he should never have slept in his office. If he had been in the pew, maybe...maybe he would have heard!!

Please, Toby.

Did he have everything with him? Was everything safe in the church? Okay, good.

In a flash, Reverend Toby bolted the church's doors, clenched the note and the ribbon tight in his fist...and ran.

Don't let their legacy die. 

Chapter Text

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Kinoko Kingdom, just shy of 150 years into the future...

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...It was time once again.

A new dawn yawned itself to life, just like it always had before, rising above the walls of the summery land in a slow daze.

But the hearts of the Lower Kinoko Prep children were anything but tired. After all, what fourth-moon didn't look forward to their Crowning Morn with a fervour of utmost sincerity?

All the people of Kinoko Kingdom, regardless of age, would soon gather atop Higanbana Hill. They would be dressed in their finest attire, verbose gowns and suits like flowing flowers upon the hill. And the garden bloomed for the fourth graders, the nine-moon-olds of the Lower Kinoko Prep. Today was the day they celebrated their arrival at the "halfway point"- so to speak- of their fate-bestowed journey into society. Indeed, they were at the brink of their childhood's end, and were beginning to put dents and cracks into their eternal shells of innocence.

It would be a difficult journey, certainly; no one can sugarcoat the terror that are the moons of the middle-grade. But one should not back down from such adversity; in fact, the elders encouraged their children to treat it as a celebratory time. A time where the confusion and immaturity of a child's every-day could be allowed to dissipate, making way for the next phase of life...the anticipation of the future.

And the Crowning Morn...well, it was most certainly a renowned part of their festivities.

For most people, that is.

The focus of our story, however, lies in one of the only exceptions. She lived on the very outskirts of the Kingdom's suburbs, in a rather ancient cottage her parents had owned for as long as she could remember. She had been awake and moving long before the sun ever stretched its rays, trying to make herself presentable to the public eye. How did one go about applying makeup again? And how would she manage to pin what little brown-blonde frizz she had into anything even remotely classy? Oh, how she hated this menial toil...why did the other girls put themselves through this torture as often as they did?

In the end, she just gathered all of her hair in a fraying ponytail holder, hiding it along the base of her neck. And the makeup she simply refused to touch. Her mushcap would (hopefully) be a sufficient cover for her lack of elegance.

The walls were a musty, brown blur as the girl trudged down the stairs later that morning- fully dressed, smelling of lemongrass, yet not at all ready. To her own internal shock, she found herself not at all wanting to leave...ha! What stress can do to people is quite remarkable, is it not? Indeed, though she normally loathed this dreary cottage, there was a comfort in its monochrome glare now...

...How she despised the past.

The girl had nothing more for breakfast than a glass of water and a sigh, too nerve-jumbled to be able to stomach any more. Besides, her mother's ancient corset probably wouldn't comply with any extra tautness added to its burdens. The girl could still hear that woman's authoritarian blasphemy rattle about her head, though the conversation had been held almost a month prior to the celebration.

"This is a day of prestige," her mother had snapped. "A time to show our support for the pillars of the Kingdom, and you want to show yourself in that drab thing? No, I will not have it. You're wearing something that makes you look like the woman you should be, and that is final."

Alas, the tannish-brown dress she wanted to wear was now a heap of cotton and lace on the bottom of her closet floor. Just a flight of stairs up, yes, but still so unbearably far... How she longed to be rid of this poor excuse for a gown, with its faux-diamond-studded collar and its chafing lavender satin. Even if her other dress was of a simpler, everyday design, so what? At least you could actually breathe when you walked in it.

And to top it all off, the utter hypocrisy of her mother's actions was very nearly laughable. Though all the mushchildren in the Kingdom were invited, would either of her parents be there for the ceremony? Of course not. Their jobs were far too demanding to miss for even a few hours, the girl thought with a poorly-held scowl. They were janitorial workers at the Central Post, for crying out loud! There wouldn't even be anyone to clean up after for the next few hours. In fact, the girl wondered as she wiped excess water from her chin, she suspected that her mother only wanted her to go to paint their absence in a better light...

Yet still, she said nothing.

It would do no good if she did.

And soon- far too soon for her own comfort- she found herself slipping on a pair of bejewelled flats, locking the cottage doors tight, and stepping out into the soft wrath of that lazy sun. It rose ever slowly, blanketing the suburbia in a heavy shadow. The menagerie of houses set before her stood in neat rows on either side of the dirt pathway. Some were so tall the girl would hardly be able to reach their knockers (which, to be honest, was no small feat). Some had mushroom-shaped roofs, while others sported boas of flora around their window-frames. Still others bloomed with bushes of beauty in their yards, forest roses and bite-o'-the-blossoms dancing with the yawning breeze in the more forested sections.

The girl stopped to linger on this sight- goodness, her neighbours made her own whitewashed home shrink in shame- but it was for only a moment. Her destination lay to her right, just off the path, in the forest that surrounded Higanbana Hill.

Technically, there was a rocky path that paved the way through the forest and up the hill, but...she much preferred to be alone on this endeavour. With that being said, though, weaving around all those trees would take much longer than the normal route. She must make haste if she were to arrive on time.

Hitching her skirts above the damp earth, she broke into the mass of trees, almost charcoal-black in their heavy morning shadow. Something about this shrouded place always made it that much easier for her to breath- deep breaths, the kind that let the bittersweet wooded air coat her lungs like a drug. Even with that blasted corset, even with the branches grasping at the dress's lace, she tried her best to drown herself in those feelings.

How strange the senses of the world were to her... They could make even the most dismal of memories gleam with a radiant- no, heavenly- sort of light.

It was enough to make her slow her pace...oh, how she longed for-

The metallic clanging of a bell in the distance rattled her thoughts to pieces, making room for reality once again. She whipped her head towards the sound, slowly remembering why she was here in the first place.

Ah-! Yes, of course. The fourth graders. The annual ceremony. That was the bell that rang fifteen minutes before it began- people would soon be streaming in from all directions.

This was no time to dwell on the long past...no matter how much she wished for things to be different for them, that could not be so.

Not until her prayers to the luck of the world were finally answered, that is.

Until then, there was no time to waste.

And with that final note, our dismal little protagonist broke into a clumsy jog through the woods. Time to go make up for her parents' apathy.

*****

Alas, she made it just in time. The top of the hill was jam-packed with people, making her claustrophobic heart beat double-time. Normally, she hated standing at the helm of any congregation, but it looked to her as if she had no other choice. Judging from the sheer size of the crowd, there was no way she would be able to stand among them for an hour-and-a-half without positively losing her mind.

And she couldn't settle for the back, either...that would only welcome the greatest fear of her morn.

Steeling her jumbled nerves, she prodded and poked her way upwards, muttering awkward apologies to anyone who so much as glanced her way. She daren't look into their eyes for too long, though- who knew how much of their hatred would leak into her soul if she did?

This was the one of the few times that her...nonconformities were even more painfully obvious than usual. She knew deep in her bones that today, every child in the Kingdom would feel the burn of their parent's hands on their shoulders as she stumbled and choked her way by.

Eventually, she did break free into open air, albeit coming close to face-planting in the process. It hadn't really been her fault- she suspected a young boy behind her of holding out his leg on purpose- but she still felt her face grow hot at the people's whispery snickers.

In an attempt to distract herself, she took a peek at the ceremony itself. The Lower Kinoko Prep had outdone itself with their attendees this year- the plush leather seats of the graduating fourth graders were almost overflowing off the hill in places. Like their parents in the audience, they were dressed in their finest attire, with dresses and vests fit for the front of their town square's shop windows. The light of the sun, combined with their youthful grinning faces, made them positively glitter from the inside out.

But if they were glittering now, it was nothing compared to how they looked when they caught sight of their principal.

He appeared at the end of the path, along with the Kingdom's white-and-green cloaked priest, mere minutes before the ceremony was due to begin.

The principal's name was Mr. Abraham Stokins, a figure of caring (yet authoritative) stature. His coat was a well-ironed maroon, the same colour as his creased pants and gleaming loafer shoes. He walked with all the grace of a politician...or maybe that of a luck-bringing star. He took his place behind a wooden podium, facing the fourth graders with a sugary-sweet smile.

To his left, the girl noticed with a flutter of her heart, was a gigantic wooden crate. It housed the one item that the entire Crowning circled around. The one that made the fourth-moons positively squirm with glee.

Oh, dear...this was going to be one heck of a trip down memory lane.

As the Principal fidgeted with the podium's microphone, Estera heard the Preist's deep, raspy mumbles. He had the kind of voice that commanded attention, and without thinking, Estera turned her head once she caught the sound. He appeared to be speaking to someone behind him, a person who was well-hidden by the Preist's green-and-white getup. She squinted against the ever-rising sun, trying to catch anything- a glimpse of fabric, a lock of hair- that would reveal the stranger's identity.

And like a message from the world herself, a breeze rustled about the crowd. Most took it as a welcome reprieve from the late-spring air, but Estera was more focused on the...dress that the stranger wore. In a way, it was more of a robe than a dress, paisley-pink, and fading to red and white at the bottom hems.

And there was only one lady who ever wore a dress like that.

Princess Naima.

Estera had never known her personally; indeed, hardly a soul was allowed to get close to her. But on the outside, they shared many aspects of the human psyche. Both were girls of few words, tentative in both speech and action. Both often held the place of their parents at events (but in the Princess's case, at least her father had a valid excuse). But beyond that, their similarities dissipated. Though she couldn't see her face, Estera knew the Princess wore a smile.

One that was actually real.

But her reverie couldn't last forever, could it? With the clearing of their Priest's throat, and the sight of him turning to face the Principal...the Crowning Morn finally began.

First was the prayer. The Priest himself never recited Kinoko's Rectitude; he only led the people in their own recollection. Everyone who was old enough to speak knew the words by heart, after all, and it reiterated that they were the ones in charge of their own destiny...they were their own personal keepers, blessed by the powers they had invested into the world.

If only luck would shine in their favour.

"Fathers dear, o Mothers bright,

Shine on us your heavenlight.

Bless our future evermore;

We your Kingdom shall adore.

Earth and sea and sky above

Smile like the winged doves.

So follow me in my revelry

And slit the throat of yore."

The prayer was melodious, floating along a childish breeze...and it never failed to calm our lady's every nerve. It gave her enough strength- even if it was miniscule to boot- to face the Principal as he took control of the Crowning Morn.

"My dear children- er, adolescents," he opened with a laugh, "I must say, I'm...speechlessly happy for all of you. Not just for making it to this ceremony, but for everything you've accomplished as a group this year. Your final exam scores were just a few marks shy of beating the record set by our incoming eleventh-graders all those moons ago, and that is something to be extremely proud of."

He allowed the crowd a few endless moments to cheer, and cheer they did... The girl smiled along, despite noticing something out of the corner of her eye...the stare of Principal Stokins himself.

Against her will, her face began to heat up, and her clamped hands pulsed behind her back.

...Was that really necessary?

After seconds that went down the throat like molasses, the Principal raised his hands palms-downward, quieting the congregation once again (and finally breaking eye contact with the girl).

"Now, it's not the loss that needs attention! It's the accomplishment. Dwelling on the long past only ever brings heartache; you all know that well. Personal experience and childhood stories reiterate this lesson daily, do they not? Especially one story in particular...the story of our nation. I know, I know..." He chuckled at the impatient looks that the fourth-years were so generously dishing out. "But you all know the rules! Remember, this and the Festival are the only times it's appropriate to tell the tale."

The maiden held her breath along with the rest of the crowd, clasping her fingers tight around the hem of her waist-sash.

Here we go...

"Well...as you all know, almost a century-and-a-half ago, a priest from the nation of the Civilians of Chaos found a note tied to their church's doors one night. It spoke of dire news: of a kingdom whose rulers had fled. A library, filled with their history and their knowledge, that had been burned to the ground. A way of life that had been nothing short of destroyed."

There was an effective pause here, as the Principal looked about the silent crowd. They clung onto his every word, no surprise. Their eyes gazed longingly onwards with the same reverence that Kinoko gave to the priest during the blessing of the mushroom harvest. With a reassuring gleam in his eye, the Principal continued on.

"To this day, no one knows if these actions were intentional. But however tragic and unceremonious it was, the priest took it as a sign. A message. The rulers of this land had obviously defied what is right and moral of the human race, he said. And the people met their doom, yes, but did the nation itself have to suffer the same fate? Surely there was something to salvage, something to rescue from the abyss and make whole again. He was not one to let an innocent child go to waste at the hand of rot and corruption. Thus, he accepted the challenge, and took on the role of the new king of Kinoko Kingdom, right along with his prince and president. They created the baseblocks in which Kinoko still sits on today, established an economy, housed the immigrants which came in droves, day-by-day, seeking shelter from the outside world..."

His speech died down once more, and the Principal seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. That breeze still tickled the lass's skin without mercy, making her surroundings masquerade as something much more lackadaisical than it really was.

"They died in peace some forty moons later, praise the stars. But they had been so preoccupied with the royal life and the tasks of leadership that one thing had not been accomplished yet...the writing of an official constitution. But the king's son, Prince Michiko, changed all this once he became king. His father had told him on his deathbed to finally do the one thing he had failed to do in life. He was tasked with, not only writing a constitution, but making any sort of written documentation on the past officially illegal...and punishable by exile into the Desolation Grounds."

...This rule had always been made clear to everyone in the kingdom since childbirth, and the punishment was not an unknown one. Still...just the mere mention of the Desolation Grounds was enough to send cold spasms down anyone's spine.

You see, the boundaries of Kinoko Kingdom were not vague in the slightest. Massive concrete walls of black and sun-washed grey marked the land's perimeter, making the Desolation Grounds any area outside of them. Under normal circumstances, no one was allowed to venture into the Grounds for any reason. And nobody really had a reason, to be honest- mostly because the kingdom was very self-sufficient, and had no trade relations with anyone outside the barriers.

Actually, was there anyone beyond the walls? No one knew for certain, and nary a soul cared to investigate. Some people did say that, if you dared to venture close enough to the walls to touch its surface with your palm, you would hear the steady swishing of water on the other side. They called it a "sea" in Kinoko Prep- something that had never been seen by anyone in the Kingdom who was still living and breathing. All her teachers stressed to no end the importance of never breaching these walls...not like she ever would anyway. Even if she was crazy enough to wantto, no one left in Kinoko knew how to swim.

Admittedly, though, Estera sometimes found herself lost in a fit of curiosity (which, of course, was not at all uncommon for her), wondering just what might lay beyond. And if it were any other beloved subject, she would relish in finding answers to her inquiries...but this was the Kingdom. No one in their right mind would everquestion its love. She had standards when it came to quenching her curiosity.

...Besides, the horror tales that circulated 'round the land about...that place were truly the stuff of nightmares. A feathery god of death that made his home in storms of black and green, and whose poison-penned riddles were sure to kill instantaneously. A blood-bathed warrior- one that the rumours dubbed a "samurai"-one that could bend the voices of time, dazing and frightening innocent travellers so much that they never even saw his blade cutting through their necks. A soldier with the voice of a honey-cinnamon glaze, using the wind and the rain like a hypnotic symphony to lull you into sleep...and make your heart explode from the inside, leaving you to bleed from a smiling mouth.

Thank goodness they weren't true. Just the products of hyperactive imagination, that was all. Every sensible person knew that...but still.

The Desolation Grounds were beyond creepy.

Noticing the fear of the crowd, the Principal was quite quick to move on.

"At any rate. We all know that this is for our protection. We've heard what we know to be true, time and time again. We know what straying from the righteous path of the Dogma of Innocence has done to people in the olden days. It's much better to just...let the pain of the past be. Just like our elders intended for us to do. We must not let ourselves drown in heartache and regret, we must not focus on anything but the good of what we were built upon...and what we have become. It is for this reason that we have grown into the Kingdom we are now: a haven for the kind and the child-like, but a ground of prosecution for the unjust and the traitorous. This is how we have lived for the past 150 moons, and the beautiful legacy we will leave behind for every generation to come. And as we can all see..." Principal Stokins beamed at the crowd all of a sudden. "...we've become a lovely Kingdom because of it, haven't we?"

As the crowd cheered and clapped once more, the Principal left his perch from behind the podium and walked towards that mysterious wooden crate. One could have sworn that the children's lungs had gone out, for not a breath was taken...

"And speaking of becoming a better kingdom... At the request of the early people of Kinoko, Prince Michiko created something that I consider to be a trademark example of this development. Something that I'm sure you all know about!"

With both hands, Mr. Stokins pried open the splintered crate...revealing the prestigious item once and for all. The box was filled to the absolute brim with soft, mushroom-shaped caps. Indeed, they looked just like the tops of a shroom you would find in the wild! The squishy fabric bent underneath the Principal's light touch as he held one of them up for the crowd to see...and the fourth-moons went positively mad.

"They are a symbol of one's citizen- er, calm down, everyone- one's citizenship, and the first step in your journey through the tranquil Kingdom society. The students of Lower Kinoko Prep, in the last week of their fourth year, choose which branch of the new Triad of Kinoko they want to represent. Will you be a Daught One? A Honey Child? Or perhaps a Prince's Message? The decision is yours, young ones. And once you have lived for 18 moons, you will receive your cap's corresponding spots, officially admitting you into Kinoko Kingdom as a mushman or mushmaid, fully sworn into the Triad!"

The fourth-moons barely let the Principal finish before they erupted into feverous applause. Some even stood up, they were so happy... Principal Stokins himself smiled at the adult guests before continuing on.

"Well, that's enough talking from me, everyone. I'm very proud of all of you. Now, I'll call you all up in alphabetical order, so try to be patient...Calissa Anders first, please."

The child- soon to turn adolescent- went towards where the crate stood. She certainly seemed dressed for the occasion: her aquamarine green dress trailed behind her thin frame and caught on the dewy grass for about a yard behind her, extending up to her diamond-studded collar. Her sleeves were just as wispy as the rest of the outfit, majorly frayed and extending well beyond her wrists. If it were not so tight-fitting and gemmed, the young woman would have loved to wear it herself.

"Yes, sir," the child spoke in a voice as light as the hue of her clothing, pushing her long blonde hair behind her ear in a sort of nervous twitch.

The Principal put a reassuring hand upon her shoulder, opening the crate with his free hand once more.

"Which one will it be?"

Calissa stood on her tip-toes and picked up a mushcap residing on the top of the stack. It was white on the right side, black on the left, with the spots on the cap itself being black on the right and white on the left.

"Ah, that's the cap of the Honey Children..." The Principal bent down to regard Calissa on eye level. "Leadership and justice is their specialty!"

The child gave a small smile at the description, but put it back in the crate, fishing around to try and find her second choice... When she next pulled her hand out, she held a sky-blue cap, which faded to a dramatic neon-green on the edges. The dots themselves were green, as well.

"This represents the Daught Ones. Charisma and self-love are their forte!"

"...There's one more, right, sir?"

"Indeed there is!" He himself reached into the crate, taking the Daught cap from Calissa's tiny hands and putting it back inside as he searched for the last choice. This new option was a violet purple, with inferno-coloured dots.

"Oh! Here we are. This one is for the Prince's Messages! They are based on tranquillity and wisdom."

...There was silence. Even the child-wind on Higanbana Hill shushed itself in wild anticipation.

"So...have you decided?"

"I think so. Can I be the Da...Daught One?"

Principal Stokins smiled...an expression of love reserved just for Calissa, it seemed. "You certainly can."

With that, he waved the Priest over, who strode over to the Principal with his classic quiet authority. The Princess followed close behind, her gleaming blonde hair tinting the sunny ground the colour of a forest rose. The only thing left was their touch, his silent blessing and approval. The two faced Calissa, allowing her the great privilege of looking at the lower half of his face head-on. His eyes and hair were covered by the hood of his robe, but still- Calissa's apparent joy was more than obvious.

All it was was a touch. The two of them, one hand intertwined with the other's, the other hand free to complete the deed.

Just the grazing of a few fingers below her chin.

Yet the applause was enough to shift the earth of Higanbana Hill.

*****

The Crowning Morn went on until the crimson sunrise became shy, leaving the now-blue sky and hiding behind the clouds, tinting their edges a dusty pink. At the end, the excitement had noticeably died down; even Principal Stokins let out a slight yawn as he gave out some final words of encouragement and love.

Everything would have been extremely tranquil...and...and almost perfect.

That is, were it not for a cry from down below.

Thankfully, the Principal had just begun to wrap up his speech, so people could afford to move about and try to find the source of the sound. Even the children hoisted themselves up onto paralysed legs, holding on to their mushcaps for dear life. It had sounded like the voice had been on the very edge of the forest, 20 or so yards away from where they all stood at the summit.

"Oy, up there! Can ya hear me? Am I-oh! Am I late?"

...Oh, dear. The woman knew that voice well.

And, unfortunately, so did everyone else.

As the shouting man emerged from the forest, our poor protagonist took a grim mental note of how everyone's facial expressions had changed. Looks of concern- even fear- had dissipated, left to rot in the waste. In its place, disdain crept across wrinkled brows and squinted eyes. Many (especially the older adolescents) began to back away, careless scoffs and frowns forever tainting the atmosphere as the strange man came closer to the base of the hill.

Some of the hating looks were even directed at the woman herself. Because she was no stranger to this man...his name was Basil Auralius Bareroot.

And he was her older brother.

For one thing, Basil wasn't dressed for the occasion in the slightest amount. He wore a button-up long sleeve, which already had a considerable amount of stains on it, despite how early in the morning it still was. His pants were made of pure burlap, and the left pant leg was so frayed at the seams it wasn't even funny. The leather satchel that never left his side was draped over his right shoulder, and it was positively bulging with a nameless plethora of objects. He wore a Honey Child cap with a paper heart sticking out of the top, sort of like a makeshift antenna. His black-and-white spots on his face had been shaped into little three-dimensional hearts, as well. The cap kept trying to slide down his oily, sandy-brown hair, which he pushed back into place multiple times with garden-gloved hands.

Whenever he caught sight of his sister, his face shone like the midday sun, and he attempted to trek up the steep incline of Higanbana Hill. This only caused the congregation to back up even more; the only ones to stay in place were Mr. Stokins and the girl.

Some even left.

And, to be completely truthful...when Basil extended his hand to her, she couldn't help but want to run herself.

"Estera...? Estie, can ya hear me?"

Chapter Text

...Did Estera hear him? She supposed so.

And if things had been...different, she might have been delighted by the sound.

"Oh, Estie, am I glad I caught up with ya," Basil chirped, his eyes alight like the pupil of a songbird. "There's some time before ya have to head back, right? Would...would ya like to join me for brunch?"

Time stood still in Estera's mind as she looked down at her brother's outstretched glove. Such a simple gesture, was it not? And she had the free time to accompany him for a little while, yes...

So then...why did it have to be so difficult to follow suit?

Principal Stokins, who still dutifully stood next to the Priest and Princess about four or so yards away from Estera, inched his feet towards the scene with a look of masked concern on his face. He gave Estera a secret smile, but one that was laced with the sorrow of mortality. Was all of it intentional, she wondered?

"I..." Her heart quickened in the chest at the sound of her own timid voice, but...someone had to break the toxic silence.

"I'll...what do you need, Basil?"

"Oh." Surprisingly, the chipper Basil took quite a bit to respond with his same gusto. "I don't need anything..I suppose. But I would like to talk with ya, i-if that's alright."

Before Estera could come up with a response, she felt a strong, pen-callused hand upon her shoulder. Mr. Stokins- apparently- wished for a private word. As leaded as her feet felt, Estera somehow found the strength to walk away, even if it was only a couple of yards. Basil took the hint and stayed put...but something numb flicked in his eyes for a flashing moment. Like a flame threatening to spill over the glass-bound threshold.

Estera was well acquainted with seeing that look in his riverbed eyes.

"Thank you for putting up with me, Miss Bareroot," Mr. Stokins began once they were somewhat alone, with nothing but the growing wind and the lovesick clouds to keep them company. "I hope that I wasn't too brash during the Crowning. Was I?"

"...What do you mean, sir?"

"You know what I mean."

...Well...surprise, surprise. He really had the gall to approach her about his blasphemy.

Estera had always been one to put her all into everything...and she did mean everything. Ever since she was young, no matter what, she had an intense hatred for giving up instilled into her very core. After all, near-constant work was the only way she had ever attained anything worthwhile in life...even if said life had only been in production for sixteen moons.

And back when she was but a wee fourth-moon, her uncanny gumption had caused her to carry her class to victory in the week of the final exams.

At least, that's what everyone said. Principal Stokins- just like most adults- wouldn't hesitate to brag on Estera when given the chance to do so. According to him, she had notched a good 41 points higher than the second-place fourth-moon. A score so astronomical not only set a school record, but when averaged out, caused her class's overall grade to boost, as well.

It was something that she had yet to live down, in both an academic and a social sense. But dare she say her true thoughts to the Principal's face?

She decided against it in the end, mustering up a somewhat-warm smile.

"You did just fine, sir; please don't worry."

"You're certain?"

Estera's eyes floated up to the clouds as her mind swam, trying to grasp the emotion in Mr. Stokins' voice. The sky had an oddly calming effect on her...maybe that was what gave her the courage to say one last "of course."

Or maybe it was just easier to not look into his dark irises.

For whatever reason, her words were enough to make the Principle exhale a sharp breath of relief. "Good. I'm glad, Miss Bareroot."

The wind was only increasing, and made the sting of the silence that followed after his gratitude seem a little less...silent. Estera's feet began to stone over again, but she knew Basil was waiting. "Did you want to say anything else, sir?"

To her surprise, the Princess's eyes flit toward hers when Estera said this. Indeed, Estera hadn't even realised she'd been looking her way until then, and she was quick to avert her eyes afterwards.

...But what were her thoughts behind that royal smile?

For a while there, Estera didn't know if the Principal would respond or not. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again in a thoughtful pattern...

"It's just..." He sighed, the sound full of grief. "I'm proud of you, Estera. I know I've told you time and time again, but that doesn't make it any less true. You've worked for many, many moons to get where you are now; please don't think I haven't seen your efforts."

His hands began to clench again, and out of instinct, Estera reached for one of them, giving the outer palm a light squeeze. She had heard this so many times; it was automa-

"And...I wish people your age could see that, as well."

...What? What had he said?

Did the two harbour the same feelings towards the Kingdom youth...?

"This...this country is amazing...but for some reason, the youth just...aren't what they used to be."

...Estera's heart felt like it had ceased to beat. Either that, or it had begun to pound double-time...did he seriously just confide that in her? With two-thirds of their town's royalty within walking distance, no less! Imagine! To her relief, it didn't look like they had noticed...but part of her couldn't help but worry. Did the Principal know what he implied with his words...?

...If they had heard, it would be best for her to not get involved. This realisation hit her heart, making it sink slowly to her stomach. Besides, the Principal was a good man. He was always so cheery towards everyone, refusing to see the flaws in life, no matter how apparent they were. Like a child who loves its mother: the ultimate test of unconditional- albeit dangerous- love. If worst came to worst, surely they'd just let him off with a warning.

Surely.

She needn't pile any more shame atop the Bareroot back.

She looked down the summit of Higanbana Hill, out to the start of the path, pupils grazing over the heads and suits and dresses of all the people who had left. Some were heading back to school, others to celebrate. Still others just stood in awe, either looking down at their hands or back at the hill.

They had been so eager to come...yet so eager to leave.

And on this bittersweet note, Estera was dismissed to follow her brother into the forest.

An armada of branches forced she and Basil to bid the sun adieu as they crossed the threshold of the unnamed woods. The trees' bark looked as if it had once been set on fire, completely charcoaled and blackened by their own shadows. As they moved farther and farther into their arms, damp leaves began to crunch beneath Estera's heels. The air-drying grass blades slowly made way for softer ground; she couldn't stand in one place long before sinking down into the earth.

Estera had always loved the woods. Nay, not just this- she loved all of nature. Maybe it was because it gave her a reprieve from people...or maybe it was just the Prince's Message in her; who knew?

Speaking of which...

Though it was painful, she hadn't been able to stop her mind's eye from looking back to her own Morn, even with the distraction of her brother and the beauty of the cherubic sun highlighting the curves of the hill. The event was practically branded into the vivid recesses of her memory, though it had since aged seven moons.

The day had begun innocently enough. Calissa's outer movements had quite mimicked Estera's- quiet, yet diligent at heart. Once she had chosen her cap, and Mr. Stokins had placed it upon her frizzy brown waves, the strangest feeling had pooled its way into her mouth, forming one of the most genuine smiles of her current lifetime. If magick were a real phenomena, she imagined, that was how it would have felt. It...it was like a feeling of relief had been toted along with it, as well. As if that warmth- that infatuation- had broken free from something deep inside her gut, something that had lived in her all along, but needed to be set free by the Kingdom's key.

Estera wondered...in that moment, what had so suffocated her brain...was that what it felt like to be burdenlessly happy?

At any rate, she (and an enthusiastic eighth grade Basil) had bolted home the second that school ended that day, eager to show their parents the prize. Back then, she hadn't thought much about the absence of her guardians from the Morn- grown-ups are always so busy; maybe they simply hadn't had the time to attend. She knew better than to bother them the night before, but surely they had the time to notice her now!

They had bolted through their cottage door at lightning speed, successfully catching the attention of both their mother and father. Water splashed violently beneath her mother's hands, disturbing the dishes she was washing. Her father sat near one of the larger windows in the left-facing living quarters, and his hands clenched against the wood of the chair-arms as the door slammed behind his children.

She remembered flinching a bit at their reactions, but smiling and beginning the story nonetheless. Not two sentences into her tale, however, her mother had chastised her, telling her that she had chosen a poor time to bother her with something that could be easily put off until a more opportune moment arose. And would she just look at the mess she had caused, all because of her clumsiness and lack of empathy!

The only thing that had kept a tear from rolling down her cheek was the silent smile of Basil, and her father giving her a slight thumbs-up from across the room.

That night, her brother had stayed up late in their room, working by dull candlelight to fashion something only they knew about. She had hidden it from all human eyes, no matter who they were, ever since that day. A chain-link necklace, adorning a gem as crimson as the sunset wrapped with gleaming silver bands. He had made a matching set, actually. Instead of his holding a gem, though, he had rolled some strange paper and flower petals into a tiny corked jar for a necklace trinket. He called it his "capsule of hope".

He said that he had done it out of guilt. "Ya made a mistake, but still. I should have stood up for ya," he had whispered in the dark with tears in his voice.

It was simultaneously the proudest and most disappointing day of Estera's life. She knew that her parents were busy, and the last thing that she wanted to do was sass the people that loved her so...but couldn't they take a few seconds to give her their congratulations? Especially considering how time-honoured the ceremony was? Even now, she felt the pain of her mother's words in her ears.

But, ah, no matter. As aforesaid, this happened long ago. Basil and the tree-larks surely didn't want her acting sad, now, did they?

The sun had begun to show its face just a tad from behind the wispy curtain of the sky, poking through the trees like a dying spotlight and casting the most pristine shadows onto the earth. That sole change, combined with the glare of the towering oaks and pines, made the duo's surroundings impressively serene. Basil moved ahead of Estera, sitting down at the base of a particularly eerie oak. Estera was quick to try and mimic his movements, not caring about "ruining" her dress with the moss and mildew. However, her stupid corset cried out from beneath her dress before she could make contact with the bark...

"Estera!" Having heard her wince, Basil turned in alarm towards his little sister, dropping his satchel like a rag doll onto the moist earth. "Are ya alright?"

"I'm-ah! I'm fine."

"...I'm sorry, but ya don't look fine. Ya can stand up for now; I certainly won't mind. You's a woman, after all. Ya have standards t' uphold," he added in a stupidly goofy voice, one that Estera couldn't stop from chuckling at. Despite her embarrassment, Basil's impeccable wit never failed to make a smile breach her face.

With a careful hand, Basil untied the drawstring of his satchel, pulling out two soggy paper parcels. Tomato sandwiches, judging by their pungent smell already wafting in the air. Estera's favourite...

"So..." As he unwrapped the sandwiches, Basil nodded his head thoughtfully towards Higanbana Hill, barely visible against the line of trees. "How was it, Estie? What did the ol' nerd have to say up on the summit?"

A smile inched across her face at the sound of their classic nickname for Mr. Stokins, but it was quick to disappear when she realised the full weight of his question.

Gosh, not again. Would he really have the audacity to...?

"The...same things he always tells us," she said with a leaded shrug.

"...Everythin'..even the story?"

Oh, no.

"...Yes, even that. Basil, please. We've been through this before."

"I know." He kept his tone soft- ominously soft. The kind of bliss-façade that everyone yearns for, but alas, was never meant to be. "I know. But my point still stands, does it not? Ya see how people treat us, simply because we're different from how society expects us to be. Tell me, how were people looking at ya this morning?"

"N-not badly. It was just a minor jeer or two...but that's normal, Basil."

"Estie, please. Was anyone else treated that way?" Silence. Even the sandwiches had been abandoned. "Oh, come on. I know how much ya love to watch people. You read their emotions like I read b-"

"Shh!"

"...Sorry."

The quiet was only extended...because Estera had no valid response. He was right; society had singled her out...but not for the reasons her brother had sold his soul to.

Basil obviously considered the chill in the air to be a minor victory, yet he did not smile anymore.

"Look, Estie, I've said it before and I'll say it again." He rose himself up from off the ground, intertwining their gloved hands in what he likely meant as reassurance. "Poor souls like us are not singled out by mere chance. The reason that people are this unfeeling towards the uncommon man is because we're censored from our past on a daily basis! If we were allowed to remember our mistakes, and not just our accomplishments, then maybe the people of Kinoko would learn to reform. Maybe our dispositions would improve. Maybe our adolescent crime rates would finally drop down a couple notches, for goodness sake! That would give the Kinoko police one much-needed break; I'll tell ya that for free."

...Estera's heart began to sink inside of her chest, resting again somewhere alongside the lepidopterist of her stomach. Why, oh why oh why was he so obsessed with this fanatical, treasonous dream? And why did he expect her to join him at his side?

Because that was where Basil was badly mistaken about his little sister. And not just he, either! Everyone seemed to assume that she shied away from the public out of treason. She and her brother were not both different from societal standards of obedience. He was- this was true to all, beyond a shadow of a doubt- but not she...not at all.

Her reasons for silence were far, far less in the public eye than her brother's.

Basil should have known that by now.

"Basil...oh, Basil. I know that you only want the best for everyone in the Kingdom, and I've always admired your optimism. But one day, you've...you must wake up and realise that your words are nothing but a fantasy. And an illegal fantasy, at that! Take a moment to think about what you're saying, please. What do you think would happen if we were to reflect on our past? Do you know how confused and lost we would all feel if we didn't wake up each morning with a clean slate, without all the pain of whatever happened before? This kingdom is in the best state it will ever be; please try to see that!"

"But that confused daze would only be temporary! It would be for the ultimate bett'rment of our society!"

"Tell me how you know," Estera cried- far too loud for her own comfort, but she couldn't help her outbursts anymore. "All you've ever done to me is preach, Basil. Give me proof."

...Goodness. The woman had never been this honest with Basil...or at least, she hadn't for a very, very long time. She became hyper-aware of the pounding from behind her dress's collar, of the way her hands tingled like a thousand needle-pricks against her brother's skin, of the sun and the way it watched their wooded argument so closely...

...until Basil exhaled, as if he were merely blowing out the sandy candles on a cake.

"About that, Estera...the-there's something that I need to tell ya...please. Tw-"

"ESTERA CATHERINE BAREROOT!"

If Estera's nerves were jumbled before, they might as well have failed entirely at the sound of this banshee-screech. Her head whipped around- as did Basil's- to find where it had come from, almost flinging her mushcap from her head in the process.

Birds and forest animals fled from their nests in a hectic rage, but the shadows they created did nothing to mask the figure. It stood many yards away from the siblings, but mentally, was closer than anyone they had ever encountered in their lives.

Their mother, Dyana Bareroot, and her face of deranged inferno.

Before either of them could even think to respond, a heat-reddened hand took hold of Estera's arm just above her left wrist bone, and led her back into the sun's stage.

Far, far away from her stupid brother.

And all he could do was stare back in oh-so-familiar horror as his futile cries splotched the air of Higanbana Hill.

*****

Estera, of course, didn't hear the end of her mother's rage for quite some time. Mrs. Bareroot had banned her daughter from seeing "that cotton-eared little twit" when she was just 14, so Mother did not take kindly to their meeting. And as if that wasn't enough, both Mother and Father were on Kingdom paper-collection duty for the Central Post today, so Mother could have risked going unpaid by straying from the path for so long.

This wasn't the first time that Basil and Estera had conversed in secret, mind.

But it was the first time they had ever been caught.

Mother had locked her in her room the second they arrived back home, with just two shoddily-made sandwiches for lunch and supper. (To be truthful, Estera regretted not getting a taste of Basil's cuisine earlier...) As per custom whenever Estera was in trouble (and no one was around to "properly" take care of her), she was left to think about her mother's words, and the sheer shame she would bring upon her family if she continued to see her brother. Did she at least have the heart to look out for her parents, when they were already struggling enough?

When she tried to answer, the door had been slammed shut...and Mother had left the cottage.

You see now? This...this was where it all went wrong. If it hadn't been for...oh. She couldn't deny; she knew in her heart that the conniving voice that nagged in the back of her head wasn't rational. But oh, was it bloody convincing...

So...what would she do now?

In a mind-dumbingly monochrome manner, Estera went over her "trouble ritual." She could sit by the circular, cotton-curtained window for a while, but her heart was still too riddled with anxiety to sit down just yet.

Actually, even if she had wanted to rest her legs, it would have been impossible in her current getup. With an immense feeling of relief, she found the perfect knock-a-bout outfit in her closet: a beautifully large, maroon-striped sweater, paired with some work-quality cargo shorts and knee socks.

Hm. What else was there to consider?

As ridiculous as it seemed now, she probably would have spent this time half-reading through her faerie-tale books when she was younger. Young and naïve. But all of her fantasy collections had been taken away many moons ago...much to the dismay of her older brother. (As I'm sure you know, dear reader, he was quite fond of the irrational and magickal. But it had been preached into Kinoko's children from the cradle moons that magick- even the simple faerie tales in fantasy books- was not to be taken seriously, not under any circumstance. In fact, the only reason the Central Post had not yet eradicated storybooks was because they had nothing to do with their actual past...and the Post had always been adamant about never twisting the law. But, alas, the grey area had actually shaded in itself after some time. Controversies began to run rampant among Estera's elders when the Kingdom heard of the Post's stance on this trifling matter. Many parents- Estera's included- made it their mission to get rid of any and all of the "wicked paper propaganda" in the following weeks. Indeed, their hatred for imagination stretched so deep into Kinoko that their only bookstore had recently gone out of business... Even their school libraries were hanging by a thread when it came to funding. How did Estera feel about all of this? Well...she didn't quite know. The books were made to be harmless, yes, and she...would be lying if she claimed to not enjoy their prose...but they always seemed to intensify that glassy light of Basil's every time he read them, late into the night...hm.)

At any rate.

She didn't feel much like drawing- another hobby of Basil's that had inadvertently instilled itself in her. Each of the ceiling bumps had been counted ages ago. She had finished her last bits of work for Upper Kinoko Prep a fortnight ago (which was the only reason she wasn't in trouble for being absent).

Well...she could always tinker.

This, once again, was a habit that Basil had come to realise during their childhood. Back whenever Estera first received that chain-link necklace, she had positively begged Basil to teach her his ways. She remembered with a damp heart the corresponding midnight hours they had spent in this very room, sitting on the edge of Estera's bed with the sheets draped over their laps, the tiniest of flashlights sitting on the right-most bedside table, muted chuckles and whispers being the only sounds they had dared to make.

And in the seven moons that had passed since those nights, Estera had begun a private collection of metal things that lay hidden inside her mattress. It wasn't much to look at, admittedly. Just a leather bag, about the size of Estera's palm, stuffed without mercy with bits and pieces of junk. Sometimes there would be a spring or two lying on the ground when she went outside. Some broken electrical wires, too. Maybe even a rusted-over gear or metal slab, if she was lucky. But she picked them all up and added them to her collection, regardless of physical necessity or importance.

She wasn't about to leave the poor little things abandoned. Someone had to look down every once in a while, correct?

Estera didn't know how long she stood by her bedside, sifting through the scratchy doodads. She had yet to actually make anything out of her menagerie, to be honest. Maybe it was because she didn't want to relive those old memories anymore than she had to?

Or...was it the opposite? Did she, instead, desire to keep the memory of middle-school Basil alive by caressing things that she would have- once upon a time- been shoving in Basil's face with a candy-tart grin?

Her mind, for once, almost went silent. She craned her head towards the one place it wanted to travel, towards the one thing that would satiate its hunger, however temporary it may be.

In just a few moments that dragged out thick as Mother's mushroom stew, she pulled the necklace from its confinement in the bag, and clasped it around her neck.

...Estera supposed there was no denying her heart at the end of the crimson day. No matter how stupid he could be, she thought, with tear after tear falling onto the cornflower-blue sheets...

...she just wanted her brother back. 

Chapter Text

As that eternal curtain fell upon the world, the poppy tones of Kinoko's sky began to dilate into the calmer watercolours of late evening. Estera, having been emotionally unable to handle the doodads for long, was now facing the wondrous display set before her window. Sunsets were a fickle thing to her- they changed by the second at times, and one could look away for a mere moment, having seen one version of the horizon, and look back once more to find a completely foreign landscape. Even now, the naked eye could almost chart the steady traverse of the shadows that the distant Kingdom walls gave off, almost completely covering up the freshly ploughed fields of flowers and fungi.

In a way, it was a lot like...like life. Forever changing, never truly stagnant. Never one set perspective or answer.

Basil had probably already set sail for dreamland by now, now that the moon took the place of the sun in the pink inferno-sky...at least, that was what she dared to hope. Whenever they were children together, he always had a habit of burning through multiple batteries during his nightly fictional endeavours. He- along with a criminally innocent Estera- had their system down to an art: at the start of each week, Estera would go to a particularly nice shopkeeper in the town square before school, and get about ten or so batteries with whatever pocket change she had found on the floors. (Things has always been relatively cheap in Kinoko, and their short-usage electrical things were no exception.) She would give them to Basil once she got home, who would then hide them inside one of his less-conspicuous pillows. During the nights, Estera- who had the infinite energy level of all small children- would stay up until she could hear her parents' snores from down the hall. This would be Basil's signal to read, and Estera's cue to fall asleep.

Knowing Basil, the possibility of him growing out of this routine was slim to none. But Estera would prefer...not to let herself imagine what he was doing now.

Speaking of Estera, she was anything but asleep, and had no plans of lying down anytime soon.

In fact, she was getting ready to sneak out of her parents' cottage.

One might be led to think that this was a horrible idea, especially considering the doom that Estera was already facing. But she had her reasoning. For one thing, when her parents had arrived home from paper-collection duties (less than an hour ago, actually), Mother had been too fatigued to give her more than a couple of suggestive glares. It did little to scare Estera- on the contrary, it had sparked a feeling of hope in her heart. When Mother and Father were this tired, she could get away with much more than what was normally acceptable. Not because they themselves loosened the chokehold, though; it was because they would be more focused on getting rest than getting at her.

Only part of her pitied them.

It hadn't been this way when she was a child, in fact. Her parents had held their janitorial position for well over a decade now, and had slowly become among the most trusted "outside" staff members on Post. This was probably a good thing...however, the more experienced they became, the later they started to arrive back at their abode. There were even times when they came home near midnight, toiling in silence, hardly speaking to her once the morning dawned.

But that was perfect, she thought, fingers intertwining the links of her necklace like locks of silky hair. She might have cared for her mother as a child, but not anymore.

The tighter her parents slept, the freer Estera was.

Slipping out of the cottony sheets and sticking her feet to the floor, Estera put her maroon sweater over the t-shirt Mother had forced her to change into...and walked out of their cottage with the delicate footfall of a dancer in the town square. She had a pair of knee-length boots hidden in a rosebush on the side of the house for the very purpose of sneaking out. She mainly did it to clear the dense fog in her mind, replacing it with the moon-purified Kingdom air. Or, if she was feeling especially rebellious, she would take a stroll down to the farthest stretches of Kinoko's arms.

Wandering about the Kingdom was what she was doing tonight. With the creamy, pink-tinted splotch of a moon above, surrounded by smaller dots of stars in the distance, Estera set out on her journey into the sunset. Though her boots were tall, the grass was even taller, creating a chilling ticklish sensation along her knees as she hopped nimbly off the front path of the cottage. The air was warm, but the calming embrace of the wind made this the perfect time to wander.

The suburban district of Kinoko Kingdom was modest in build, but much larger than one would expect. Mr. Stokins hadn't lied when he said the immigrants from long ago had flocked under Kinoko's wings of fungi. Pretty much all of the homes were full with families, married couples, or friends that boarded together. It was hardly customary for anyone to live alone in the Kingdom- they simply didn't have the supplies to build bucketloads of new homes. As a result, many of the cottages were beginning to look quite run-down, but the people made the most of their situation. Actually, in Estera's opinion, some of the most charming cottages around were the ones built during Prince Michiko's reign.

As Estera made her way through the district, she took note of some of the more sense-appealing places. Some of the tall thatched roofs had intricate spots painted all over them, giving the entire cottage a very shroomy feel. Vines of fluff and flora were draped over many of the arched glass doorways, held in place by rusting iron rods or nails. Moss grew in the cracks where the dirt had begun to splinter with age, leeching over onto the stone-lined edges. To Estera, they were much more eye-pleasing than the cottages of modern build. Those neon-coloured monstrosities that stuck out like a sore thumb, with their artificial flowers and far-too-short picket fences... Even Estera's home wasn't that bad. Yes, it had been built a mere 20 or so moons ago, but it wasn't loud in the slightest. In fact, its concrete-bare walls, plain white fencing, and overall mute look made many- even she- just pass it over. The only dosage of luminescence it had were the rose bushes planted all along the edges of the house, and the standard blue, white, green, and red Kinoko Kingdom flag that everyone was required to put near their doors.

Whenever Estera paused to reflect upon this, she smelled...something in the wind. Smoke?

Nerves began to clench in her stomach; she tried to find the source of the stench. Judging from its stoutness, it couldn't be that far away...ah! There.

Much to Estera's relief, the fire was not one that needed extinguishing. Two homes down from where she stood was an ecstatic fourth-moon, celebrating with his family. His name was Dane, a kind-hearted lad who had lived near Estera for as long as she could remember. He, his parents, and his sixth-grade sister sat around a small fire pit in their backyard, roasting stuffed mushrooms like one would a marshmallow. (Mushrooms were considered a delicacy in the Kingdom, and were only eaten in the wake of some special event or extreme sickness.) Jovial chatter could be heard loud and clear, even from Estera's position...and the pang that rippled through her heart couldn't really be helped. However, she was able to get a decent chuckle out of the sight of Dane's hens- they hid themselves at the base of a flowering tree, obviously scared silly by the fire.

The suburban aesthetic slowly changed into that of their town square after about ten or so minutes. This was where all the necessities of such a closed-off life could be found- doctors, grocers a-plenty, a rather compacted bank...anything and everything one might need. Most of the cobblestone vendors had closed up shop for the day, but a rather large amount of straggling people still remained. Ironically enough, though, not a single adult could be found in the crowd...and the only shops open were those that catered to children's needs.

This was the part of the square Estera hated going through the most, even when stars were making their return to the sky.

Stuck awkwardly between an apothecary wagon and the decrepit book-shop was one of the most popular teenage destinations in Kinoko. Fiery Dee's sole purpose was the transformation of one's looks; their services ranged everywhere from haircuts to mushcap customisation. And even from her perch by the square's water fountain, Estera could see that the joint was far from quiet.

A whole swarm of girls, for example, made busy by drowning an older boy in chatter as he walked out Dee's doors. He had- quite literally- only been outside for three seconds, and didn't look like he would be opposed to the idea of falling asleep right there on the street. From the snippets of giddy conversation that floated to Estera's ears, she was able to piece together that he had just turned 18, and was celebrating by moulding his cheek-spots into lightning bolts.

Estera herself hadn't done much at Firey Dee's, even when she was little. (Even if she had wanted to go, Mother only ever let her once in a blue moon.) An oversized, lovingly floppy mushcap was her only testimony to its treasures. She had pasted in the leaf-antennae herself when she was 11, and was still quite fond of how they looked, despite their shrivelled disposition.

After a while, she noticed that a couple of the stupid smitten girls had met her glassy eyes, her mind being too far away to really notice their stares. By the time she had forced herself to come back to reality, they were giving her looks of absolute damnation. Some of them shouted some things...not worth repeating, waving their arms at her as if she were some horrid stench hanging in the evening air. Even after Estera raised her hands, attempting to explain herself, the girls did nothing more than roll their eyes and turn back to their darling dude, stepping noticeably farther back than before.

Of course, there were no adults around.

No one to put them in check.

This happened quite a bit, obviously. She could imagine why, yes, but that didn't make it any more excusable. As aforementioned, people... branded her based on just her brother's reputation. And it wasn't like she hadn't tried to avert their eyes to the good of her- nay, lots of her childhood had been spent trying to forge a new life for herself- but no one ever paid her any mind.

Ever.

How ironic was it that the morale their whole kingdom was based off of was tossed to the side once it was threatened by people like her? Stupid teenagers. She could only hope that good sense would kick in once they crossed the threshold into adulthood.

But what was she supposed to do in this absence of human understanding and love? Lose all hope and sink into Basil's insanity, or her mother's apathy? No, she wasn't that stupid. For her, it was much better to let anger roll off her back into the abyss. To stay true to the Kingdom...and to her own sanity.

Of course, her philosophy became much easier as the moons passed...just as anything heavily practised does.

Her eyes gained a mind of their own, darting upwards to where the beginnings of her mushcap shaded her hollow lips... But alas, instead of meeting the antennae, something completely different came into view.

Standing before all of them just outside the town square, in all its majestic glory, was the Central Post itself.

This was the sanctuary for all things official, from in-Post imprisonment to the housing of the President, Priest, King, And Princess. Estera imagined that the latter three out of four were busy weaving dreams, but the President was most likely still skulking the grounds. It was his job to make sure everything was secure around the Post, and no room- from the ash chambers in the west wing to the bedrooms in the east- went unchecked. Estera would have to really stick to the shadows; best to not disturb his work.

As one could imagine, the Central Post was quite large, with multiple stories worth of rectangular windows lining the front of the building. Basil always said the glistening things creeped him out to no end...but this was yet another area where Estera had to disagree.

On the contrary...they made her feel quite safe.

One had to cross a polished marble bridge in order to access the Post, for the Kingdom's one and only Nagane River was too wide to cross with just muscle power. As one approached the structure, pillars stepped in to shelter you, supporting the roof above. They gave the Post even more of an official feel, especially as one walked up the front steps...even with Estera's abnormal height, the pillars were at least four times as tall as she! Their tops carved out and in, like the graceful edges of a leaf. (It made them look a bit like elongated mushrooms.) The vertically-inclined windows had lost the light of the sun, and the only source of brightness came from an electric lantern near the back of one of the rooms...

And it was in this dull shadow-light that Estera noticed an entirely different shadow. One that made her freeze in raw interest.

A figure held something in their arms, something that they passed through their long and wavy hair...a brush? Nothing was clear in this light; who was that...?!

Oh. The Princess, Estera realised far too late (and with a mad blush of embarrassment spread across her face).

Goodness, why did Estera have to have such horrid fortune? This made twice today that she had spied on the royal brethren without even intending to. Thank the stars and moon above she hadn't been seen...had she?

Did the Princess face her now?

Time stood still for Estera as the Princess froze, her shadow indicative of nothing. Estera had no clue what to do. Did she drop into a bow? Or did she stay put? It would probably be considered blasphemous to assume you were in the eye of royalty, yes, but what else was she to do in a situation like this?! She-

...Well.

The Princess closed her room's curtain after a few moments, with a quiet, lack-lustre flourish.

...This was also the second time today she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. Thank goodness her parents weren't around this time...but would they be? Was the Princess mad? Would the royalty snitch on her? Gosh, they had every right to. Why in the world did she get that close without acknowledging the Princess's status?! How could she be so stupid?!

The only thing that kept Estera from tumbling into panic was the silence...a strange sort of silence. The Post's guards surely would have shooed her off by now if they'd seen her...right? Or, at the very least, her fellow classmates would have jeered her when the curtain closed. Maybe she had gone unseen, by some odd miracle.

Okay. Breathe, Estera. Breathe. She had to force air into her lungs for a few moments before it became natural again. She had gotten extremely lucky this time around...but it would probably be best to head home now. She had used up all her luck for one evening; that was more than certain. Judging from her position, taking a shortcut through the mushroom fields would be the subtlest way back to her bed.

And- hopefully- tomorrow would dawn safe and sound.

*****

As Estera walked back out of the Town Square, her mind began to wander, as it so often did. Gosh, their rulers had to be tired after today; the fourth-grade celebration always took lots of energy out of everyone. But that was alright. For most people, it was worth it in the end. And the Kingdom was always there to guide the sun back over the sky the next day.

It was indeed known to everyone in Kinoko that, even though they hardly saw their rulers, they would watch over the just with loving eyes and a clean slate of a heart. This was true for all the Post home-dwellers...the King and his daughter, the President and his fiancé, and the infamous Priest.

To Estera...it was all part of the Dogma of Innocence.

She could see it in her mind in such a clear hue, as if she were standing in her school's courtyard, looking upon the stone walls in which it was written:

"Our nation of Kinoko Kingdom was conceived by twisted dreams.

But lo! Upon the horizon, its saviour came.

The ultimate dogma was then instilled into its walls.

It leaks into the hearts of the faithful with each rising day.

But it leaves the conceited to rot in a mouldy grave.

It is the Dogma of Innocence.

It whispers the phrases we know in our hearts to be true.

'There is naught beyond irrationality than broken emotions.

There is naught beyond mistrust than an abyss of confusion.

There is naught beyond spite than an eternity of war.'

Remember this.

We must always remember."

She could just make out Upper and Lower Kinoko Prep in the distance, actually, placed a good hundred yards behind the Post. It was sheltered by its shadow in the daytime...like the wings of a mother bird.

A promise that would never fade away with time, and did not need to be proved wrong...no matter what her beloved brother said.

Her...poor beloved.

Estera let herself wander into the more rural section of town now, slowing her pace as she breathed in the floral-tinted air. Past lush herb-and-shroom fields she walked, both the crops that made roost out-of-doors and the ones inside temperature-controlled dark-rooms. She would duck behind taller stalks often when she caught sight of a stray harvester. She tried not to bother them too much with her presence, and not just for her own secrecy this time around- sending their attention span askance wouldn't result in anything worthwhile.

You see, shroom harvesting in Kinoko Kingdom was a very specific art. It was best if the crops were tended to in the late spring or early summer. This was due to the increased humidity in the air, and the fresh amount of moonwater that lay on the evening ground. One mustn't pick shrooms when the ground is even remotely dry. Indeed, trying to harvest them when Mother Nature's creation is anything but soaked will only result in a devilish health decline for the delicate things. The farmers had to work at a foot-twisting pace each night in order to beat the sunrise with a decent crop.

Of course, Basil was the only reason Estera knew all of this. Mother and Father named him Basil because it was one of Father's favourite herbs. He had always wanted his son to become a harvester, for the grocers most always payed a rather nice amount to those who stocked their shelves. And...Father had always been prone to indirect kindness.

But when Basil became...who he was in the present day, all that changed. The only reason he was a farmer now was because it kept him on the outskirts of civilisation, and Basil said that he refused to let Father down. Even if Estera had wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to see his abode along the fields' outer edges. To make matters worse, he was barely making a living...it seemed that the grocers were willing to skimp their precious coins when it came to some people.

So why in the world was he still holding on? After 16 moons...she still did not know.

Estera walked for another half-hour or so in this countryside daze before a gloomy sight filled her eyes. Gosh, she had wandered into quite the daze tonight.

The Library Ruins was always a dismal place to see, especially at night. It sat directly on the outskirts of Kinoko Kingdom, just yards away from the boundary walls. A Kinoko policeman was positioned every couple of feet around the perimeter, still standing tall in their crisp, forest-green uniforms despite the late hour. Estera didn't know if they could see her in this extreme shadow; she tried to avoid the glare of the moon as much as possible now.

(Actually, the police uniforms were a wonderful example of the Post's handicraft ability. They seemed simple enough to the untrained eye; their long sleeves and pants were meant to look like those of any modern business-person- besides the higanbana crest in the middle of their shirts, that is. However, if one looked closely enough, their shirts had cut-out frills embedded into them, similar to the gills of a fish in Nagane River. These frills were filled with solid iron, and sewed in such a way that didn't cut into the guard's skin. It was a way of discreet, personal protection, one that Estera found to be utterly ingenious on the part of the Post.)

She didn't come this far that often, and when she did, it was only for a few fleeting moments. Mayhaps she would have stayed longer without the constant watch of the guards, no matter how well-meaning they were. Truthfully, she wasn't certain.

But, then again, it was most likely the place itself that sent spiders crawling up her neck.

The Library Ruins wasn't that big of a spot; one could walk just twenty steps and completely pass it up. But it was impossible to not notice it, with its jet-black ash sticking to the earth like cremated skin, with its warped metal bits scattered about all over the place (which even Estera couldn't bring herself to collect), with its uncanny stench of flowers and blood that never did seem to disintegrate, even after a heavy rain...

Here's the thing, dear reader. Estera had no inkling of an idea as to what, in our terms, a "graveyard" would be. All of their loved ones were cremated at death; their remains were placed into ash-chambers in those special rooms on-Post, and their souls were believed to die away with their turmoil...

But nonetheless, she felt certain that this was what it would feel like to stand among the dead.

Yet whenever she finally turned to leave-

"Hah-!"

One of the guards seemed concerned by her sudden outburst- oh, no, they saw me- b ut Estera squeezed out a convincing smile and began to walk away. Outwardly, she kept herself collected, but her mind was moving fast as the wind.

What in the world...was this?

A long, long time ago, Estera had stumbled upon the crimson gem for her chain-link necklace near the exact spot she stood upon, just happened to look down when her foot jolted it out of its resting place. It...it was a rather pretty thing, to be truthful. Her childish self had felt drawn to it, in some odd way...like she was meant to keep it safe.

But all of a sudden, for some inexplicable reason...it was glowing.

Estera continued to back away- slowly, casually, her back turned to their front. The guards were talking amongst themselves now, and were unaware as she turned the luminous thing in her hands...

What had-

And just what do you think you're doing, missy?

Biting back a cry of alarm, Estera dropped the gem and let it hit her neck bone with a soft plunk.

Who-? What?

A male. A young, foreign-accented, sandpaper-voiced male- heck, someone was aware of her presence, and their voice spoke of only the deepest sort of threat! She took an agonisingly slow step backward, preparing to run-!

Don't try anything dumb, girl. I'll still be able to see you.

Her hands found a nearby willow tree, some twenty or so yards away from the forsaken Ruins. It wasn't the best concealment, but it would have to do; moving so soon after stopping might reveal her position to this strange voice...where the heck was he at?!

Oh, come on. You're not that stupid, are you? The stranger- who still sounded quite close, though Estera could see no one new- let out an exasperated, dramatic sigh. Look down, twit. At your neck.

Her head moved in slow-motion down to the chain-link terror...

No.

No, of course not. Estera, have you lost your mind? It wasn't even fathomable...

...but what else could it be?

Yup, it's true. I'm in there. Satisfied now, twit?

Estera's head scanned her surroundings once more, her mind having one heck of a time taking in this sudden change.

No one was anywhere near close enough to Estera to make their voices sound this clear. The Post's guards were completely oblivious to her turmoil, staring blankly ahead or chattering in light (and barely audible) tones.

And as she focused on her necklace a bit more, Estera saw that its glow dimmed and brightened in synchronisation with the man's speech...

What? How...

Magick wasn't- no, no, it isn't-

...No.

How was this possible?

"I'm...not a twit," Estera whispered in a cautious tone. "What is this supposed to be? Who are you? A-are you in my-"

I'm not... going to deal with your stupid blubbering! Shut up for a second, and I'll answer all your questions. Can you do that?

Her sweaty hand clutched the gem, as if to suffocate this unseen abomination out of her jewellery. Alas, it was to no avail...

Did she dare listen? This stranger was more than a tad blasphemous with his words, and was already grating on Estera's nerves. But...at the same time, he wasn't a...a physical being, right? Whatever... unseemly abomination he was, he was inside her necklace. Safe. Contained.

There was no telling how long he had been in there; after all, she had owned the necklace for a very long time.

If this creature was...out to hurt her, he would have already done it...correct?

Besides, it surely wouldn't hurt to try and quell the screaming in her mind...just a bit.

Only a little bit.

...Gosh, that felt weird for her to think.

"You swear? You'll tell me the truth about what's going on?"

Yes. I swear.

His voice was still firm, but not to the point of harshness anymore... She took a slow, shaky breath, her eyes darting to where the willow rustled just above her aching head. It shielded her from the world in a figurative bubble, yes...but it also trapped her fear within.

"Alright...do tell, please."

Okay. Answering your first question- this is what happens whenever you talk to a ghost. Amazing, I know. He allowed himself a haughty laugh before pressing on. I'm a spirit of the long past, and I've been trapped inside this gem for over a century now. My name is Karl Jacobs, but you can call me King Karl. Ah, you have no idea how lucky you are...!

"...King Karl?" Just who did this imbecile think he was? "Indeed. And who, pray tell, is your child of mirth?"

...Say what?

"Your kingdom. What's its name?"

Oh. Oh-! Well, why didn't you say so the first time, twit? I forgot how ignorant you subj-

"Answer the question, please."

And don't you dare interrupt me! Goodness... It's Kinoko Kingdom! I'm the original king of Kinoko Kingdom!

...The stranger's tone failed to back up his words, these fiery words that he spat into Estera's mushy brain. She had to fight to keep from raising her voice, had to bite her chapped lip so hard it nearly drew blood...

Was he serious?!

"If you expect me to believe you, then...then you're going to have to give me a better explanation than that. How... how?!"

Oh, for the love of Kinoko, please calm down. If you would just be patient...

Despite being so eager to hear himself talk, the stranger waited for a good half-a-minute before taking a deep breath. Estera's hand reached up once more to pulse and twirl the gem in her right hand, in a desperate attempt to safely relieve anxiety.

I...I don't have a ton of memories at my disposal. It's a bit hazy after all this time spent in captivity. But oh, I was such a good leader. The people loved me, and I led them to sheer glory! I don't have the details, of course, but I do remember how happy I made them feel. Strange...strange how the feeling stays, but the memory fades.

The stranger chuckled fondly for but a second, before clearing his throat abruptly. He had seemed so genuinely happy, and yet his sigh that followed was as strong as the breeze ripping through the willow's curtain...

This went on for years- er, or what you call moons, until the day I died. It all happened so fast... but at any rate. I remember someone telling me that I "needed to be contained," though they never told me why. Then there was...red. Red, and a horrible pain, then...just darkness. When the dark cleared, I was trapped in here. I was sealed away... alone... for moons and moons... with no sort of comfort whatsoever.

Tears began to stain the stranger's voice, but the only reason Estera was still listening was for the purpose of getting her questions answered. In all her life, had she ever met someone so shamelessly dramatic? And what in the world were years? She had never heard of such a word.

Goodness, if this was their old king, no wonder it was made illegal to keep track of their past.

This gem was lodged in the dirt for a very long time...that is, until you came along. The day you picked me up and put me in your necklace was the enlightenment day for my poor soul, and I've been waiting for the right time to get your attention ever since.

His voice was quite warm now; one could almost hear the smile stitched into his tone. But...

But he could always be lying...!

"Assuming all of this is true...why in the world do you need me?"

...You've got to be kidding me...I need you to set me free, of course! Isn't that obvious, twit?! The longer I'm stuck in this rock, the longer my soul has to suffer! If I'm free, I can finally wander in peace!!

What?! "Why? I literally ju-"

Estera halted abruptly, recuperating her rising temperament into the more desirable whisper of yore. The Post guards weren't suspicious, and she wanted to keep it that way...

"...I literally just met you five minutes ago. I hardly even know who you are. And yet you expect me to just release you from my necklace and into the human world with no hesitation whatsoever?"

No, of course not! I already expected you to not trust me. You mortals are so bloody hard to win over...!

The stranger's chuckles were beginning to become dangerously smug.

That's why I came prepared. See, I've been watching you, Estera. Looking at how you behave in this modern Kinoko. Listening to those stupid roundabouts you have with your brother. And you know something, twit? I've finally found out what the heck is wrong with you.

...It was like someone had thrown a switch.

The blood in Estera's veins began to curdle as the stranger's crimson speech swam around her mind. Did he...

...really think something was wrong with her?

"...And what would that be?"

The stranger took a breath, deep yet inexplicably shallow...

A sense of adventure. An appetite for imagination in the real world, and the daring-do to risk your neck for the truth. Now, now, hear me out, he chastised when he heard Estera's shaky half-speech. Yes, it's going to require some betrayal...okay, fine, a lot of betrayal. But it'll be worth it in the end! Your brother does have a point behind his logic, you know.

"Don't you dare bring Basil into this."

I have to. Sorry, kid. (His tone was not sympathetic in the slightest.) Basil's the whole point. Don't you see? Your relationship with him isn't all that great, sure...

Estera's breath hitched against her will.

The world went silent as a ripple in a river.

...but what if I told you I could change that?

...The shock of this sudden hit slapped Estera like a feathery ton of bricks. Her outer composure stayed as rigid and on-guard as ever, yet... She didn't have an inkling of a clue as to how he could do this, but still...

What was this warmth blossoming so vividly above her stomach?

Was it...was it hope?

"How...? How in the-"

I know. My genius is just... incomparable! But here's what you need to do. You can be close to your brother again...you just need to dare to believe. For once in your life, trust him and his claims about the past. Even though he seems a couple candles short of a birthday cake, I'm telling you, he's not.

Just as soon as Estera got used to the strange feeling, it began to chip away. Every anticipating breath that the stranger took only eroded her emotions...

Thank goodness what she said next came out as a whisper. Albeit a sassy one.

"So...you, a random phantom that got stuck inside a rock over a century ago by some wicked person- and that's if you're being truthful- are telling me that I need to follow in my brother's footsteps and potentially commit treason? And this is supposed to set you free and help me forge a better siblinghood with Basil?"

She fully expected to get reprimanded unmercifully by the madman, but surprisingly...he had been struck with a (temporary) loss for words.

We...well, jeez, when you put it like that. First of all, it's King Karl to you. And second, it's not treason to search out the truth of your ancestors for yourself!

"Yes, it is."

...No, it's not.

"Yes, it is."

No.

"Yes."

No!

"Yes!"

No!!

"Yes!"

Well, then, that's the dumbest rule I've ever heard!!

Birds of nature and man's word alike quieted like the eye of a hurricane, but their ragged breath still remained as ferocious as ever. It was a miracle Estera hadn't been cornered by the guards yet; when she turned to her left to face them, only a few of them were looking directly at her.

She waved a quivering hand, and they waved back.

Strong and steady, like an unswerving truth.

Like an oak, not a willow.

Estera focused intensely on the stranger again; she could hear him muttering under his breath about the modern generation turning into "a dystopian hell-hole", whatever that was.

Okay, this is bad. You need a lot more help than I thought.

"Why, thank you."

I'm being serious! This needs to be brought to an end. And you can start by taking the first step in my plan.

Oh, dear...

"Which is what?"

It's really quite simple. You need to dig a hole in the Library Ruins when no one's around, and get something that I buried there. Can you do that?

...What.

What?

"...Are you serious?"

Why would I not be, twit?

He was serious. This haughty, egotistical little dead man was actually serious!

Mustering up all her courage, Estera straightened her posture against the base of the tree.

"No. No, absolutely not."

...What? Why?!

"Do you hear what you're saying? None of this is morally right in the slightest. And besides, even if it was, how do you expect me to trust your word? Because if you can't convince me to believe you without keeping me safe in the process, then I'm sorry, but I can't trust you!"

Oh, come on! You're being so close-minded! I have proof to give, for crying out loud!!

"...I'm sorry? I'm the one who's being close minded? I'm the one who's being difficult, Mr. Brat?!"

"Are you quite alright, Miss Bareroot? Is anything the matter?"

In a flash, Estera quieted herself, looking to the guards with what had to be a borderline-feral grimace on her face. No one suspected her of any wrongdoing; that was made obvious by their concern and open-palmed waves...but still.

"No, ma'ams. Sirs. Nothing's amiss. I was just talking to myself, t-that's all."

...Her smile must have been what finally convinced them.

She really must go home.

"Look...no. I'm not betraying my country for some isolated ideology. And until you can present me with concrete evidence supporting your stupidity...stranger, this case is closed."

And with that, Estera unclipped her brother's homemade necklace and shoved it in her shorts pocket, the stranger's discontent screeches fading away with the breeze.

And even more confusing than the thoughts that threatend to tear her brain apart...was her sudden wave of fatigue.

No, exhaustion.

My goodness, was she tired.

As Estera gave the guards one final wave and took the first steps in jogging back home, she reflected warily on this...strange phenomenon. More than strange, to be truthful...it was almost as if she were wandering through the starlight of a dream. Her evening had started as a simple- albeit depressing- stroll to Kinoko's outer arms, spiralling into a whisper-scream-fest with a being that Estera couldn't even see. On top of all this, the time had advanced to the point of twilight: stars that had once only just begun their quest for a place in the sky had now been ushered in completely, and shone like the ominous beacons they were, guiding her back to her dark house through the path of a light world.

Estera's jog turned into that of a run as the late hour truly dawned on her, in spite of the way eyes yearned to stitch closed...

Mother and Father were surely still asleep; that was not the issue. But like a child, her spirit grew afraid of this ever-increasing black, and longed for some sort of shelter.

It almost didn't matter what kind.

The last thing her weary brain could possibly comprehend once her boot-free feet finally found familiar floors was the far-too-slow trod up to her room...and the concealment of her fully-clothed body under a soft blanket. Who cared if it was the beginning of summer? A child's sense of love- or is it hunger- is a most blind emotion.

In fact...Estera was so tired that she couldn't have possibly been able to sense the sight of a shadow-drenched hand clutching her windowpane, and shimmying a weak leaf of paper into its cracks. But, alas, this discovery was not erased from time's eternal tapestry.

Its stitches were merely delayed. 

————————————————————

*This is where the action leads into the next..."act", per se. If you need sleep/food/water/tissues, taking a rest stop here is highly recommended!!* 

Chapter Text

Estera arose the next day only to be greeted by a headache from the depths of the abyss. Even craning her head to gaze at the sunbeams scratching their way across the floor was a chore... How could she move, really, with the memory of whatever the... heck that was last night?!

She never thought in a million moons that someone besides Basil would be trying to cram that stupid doctrine down her throat. All this time, she had thought he was its lone devoted one... Should she report this to the Post? Maybe. But then again, who in the world would believe her? How does one go about interrogating a ghost- if it even was a ghost? No; without a doubt, they'd think her crazy, especially with her brother's reputation being what it was. And besides, in the event that they even granted her claim audience, what was she supposed to say? That a voice talked to her in the dead of the night, claiming he was the old king, and he's (apparently) been living in her necklace for far too long now? Ha! She'd be sent to the prison before even stepping foot into the Post's lobby-way.

And for good reason... very good reason.

The more she thought, the worse her headache banged upon her brain. Nevertheless, she forced herself to get up and begin her cycle of a day. After all, no matter how much she longed to stay put, the longer she lay in her misery, the more her chances of getting caught grew (and in dirty clothes, too!).

But when she moved to secure her window curtain a bit more...a jittery, breeze-disturbed paper caught her sore eyes. It had been shoved into the crack on her windowpane, and gone quite unbeknownst to Estera until now.

"Come to the house as soon as you possibly can. I have urgent news that directly involves you. Sincerely, Basil."

Her shoulders deflated, and a heavy sigh was sent into the ether.

As if her headache wasn't already bad enough.

She had to admit, there was a part of her that yearned to stay home. This part caused her head to positively pulsate when she exited her room, still wearing her dirty clothes. It begged her to be a goodgirl, to not even think about her brother's soft and skippy voice.

It whispered that she was trapping herself in a rut.

She knew this well, of course...but this queer feeling in her gut always kept her from breaking free. It wasn't strong, but its voice never failed to drown out her mind. This voice was the thing that cheered her forward as she wolfed down a fast breakfast, and the one that eased a deep breath into her lungs as her hand found the front door.

Would it be the one that cornered her resolve?

The only thing that kept Estera from being rendered blind once she stepped out the cottage door was the Kingdom flag and her oversized mushcap. Still, it took her eyes quite a while to adjust, and her feet even longer to finally be put into motion. It was a morning straight out of a child's illustration: the individual beams of the overly-bright sun could be seen in areas of shadow, or along the remaining smoke tendrils from Dane's fire. Baby blues painted the entire horizon, utterly untainted in their simplicity. Nary a breeze blew, making Estera pull up her sleeves in an attempt to circulate air. (She has put her long sleeve back on this morning, when her parents left). She cringed a tad at the sight of the grit that had plastered itself to her pores, and brushed the shoulders of her longsleeve nervously. Thank goodness her parents had left early; she would have to check for dirt trails along her floor later.

Wait. They had left early; Estera had seen this when she went into the kitchen...and if it was for the reason Estera suspected, she was dead no matter what.

Estera wasn't the most educated on the duties of the Central Post workers, but she was purposely quite educated on their paper-collection duties.

Just in case.

Every week, two or three Post workers would be selected to travel all over the kingdom. Their goal was one: to scour the homes of Kinoko's residents...and search for any sort of documentation on the long past. If it was even suspected that someone was committing this treasonous act, then they would be admitted into the prison...and face the dastardly fate of execution. Or... exile.

The former of these had only ever happened once in Estera's memory- and even then, it was only for crimes like extreme theft or attempted murder. Even the people with charges of blasphemy against the crown- those who had been caught under similar circumstances to Principal Stokins- weren't stupid enough to commit full-out treason. 

Ever.

The memory of that first execution had been horrid enough. She didn't want to witness anything that might qualify as worse.

The thing is, Estera thought she sped-walked through the early-morning district, Mother and Father were on duty yesterday. If their job had to extend into today because of my punishment, Mother's going to kill me... She tried her best to hurry to Basil's cottage; maybe she could still get back home early and try to finish an exuberant amount of chores for her own sake.

Basil's home truly did lay on the edge of civilization- the house's rear was just feet away from touching the boundary walls- but that didn't make it a hole in the wall. It had been one of the older homes, built in the back of one of the farthest-away shroom fields. Estera had to travel through the fields just to make it there, trying like heck to not trample any of the delicate little fungi.

The cottage itself was quite...aesthetically run-down, with creeping-vines covering the entire left-facing wall. The right wall, though clean, wasn't much better: someone had taken a shovel and dug into the dirt canvas, forming indentions and creating the word "TRAITOR." It looked to be rather recent, but even so- if the incident had happened to anyone else, the news would have been all over the Kingdom by the end of most people's breakfast. Basil would surely have to stay up late to fill it back in.

This would not be the first (or last) time something like this had happened. People hadn't been able to find an official charge to arrest him upon yet, so they retaliated by the use of immature, silent acts: midnight vandalism, rumour after rumour spread, various acts of unbridled hatred...but never outright confrontation. Never a charge against him. No, the people would toe the line as much as possible and yet, somehow, Basil was still able to put up with it.

He really was stupid.

But he still greeted her with a wide smile when she knocked on the slick wooden door.

"Estie! Ya made it here alright!"

"Yes, I did. Mother and Father left especially early today, so I could afford a bit of absence." She stepped a bit further into the house when Basil made room for her to walk, but didn't sit down in the dusty parlour when invited. No, her mind was much more at-ease in this place when she was always somewhat ready to leave.

Her now-bare feet rested in the centre of all the turmoil now, and Estera's subconscious couldn't help but take note of the little details. The way the maroon armchairs were slightly out-of-line and discoloured with age, the creamy, hole-riddled curtains over the French door in the front of the room, the whiffs of nutmeg and... something vile that drifted over to Estera in stages...let's just say that Basil hadn't inherited the Bareroot cleanliness gene.

On the subject of Basil...he grabbed a mug of stout coffee from the kitchen after a while of running about, and sat down in a creaky old easy-chair, just as maroon as its neighbours. Apparently, he hadn't changed out of yesterday's clothes, either; had he simply not had the time, or was he just trying to save laundry? Estera suspected him of the latter. Even his gloves had not yet been removed, and were coated in a deep layer of dirt.

"Thank goodness I didn't go out to the field yet- I was waiting here to see if ya would respond to my note. Ya... did receive the note, right?"

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here."

Estera felt her cheeks burn as she realised what her words implied...she tried to apologise, but Basil's handwave was what silenced the poor soul.

"Good, good. I just had some things I really, really needed to show ya. I tried to tell ya yesterday, but what with Mother coming and all...well. Have ya eaten breakfast?"

"Hm-? Oh! Oh, yes, of course."

"Really?" Basil gave her a surprised (yet inexplicably joyful) look. "Well, then, let's get started. There isn't a moment to lose!"

Basil put down his mug on a small table next to the armchair with such gusto that quite a bit of liquid sloshed over and out onto the surface. Estera felt a gnawing in her gut at the sight, but it wasn't like she had the time to clean it up. Her brother had already disappeared up a spiral staircase in the corner of the room...one that was so well-hidden, even she had never noticed it before.

What in the world was he keeping up there...? With a leaden heart, Estera darted behind him to find out.

When she finally arrived (indeed, the stairs had been much, much taller than Estera would have ever expected), she stood at the start of a grey, horridly-lit hallway. A small trickle of light leaked onto the dirty floorboards, and it looked like it was coming from a far door to her left...

And the things that were behind said door robbed every trace of breath from Estera's lungs.

The room was, quite literally, an illusion. To the eye of an outsider, it was made entirely of stone, with naught but a wooden bed and a torchlight to adorn its bare skin. However, as Basil was quickly proving, this was not the case. He pushed and pulled on random slabs in the wall, revealing a slew of sliding panels in which the pieces of a completely different (and much larger) space was concealed. It was as if a fickle youngster had chosen to colour in a once-greyscale drawing with not just scribbles of bright randomness, but brand-new objects and furniture, creating the perfect blend of numbing chaos.

She stood there in such a state of shock that she didn't notice Basil's pleas for help until he was practically wheezing out her name.

"Estie... Estera... help me out with this panel, will ya?"

Together, they were able to push back the few bits of the puzzle that remained. Once this was accomplished, Basil turned to his sister with a sly, badly-concealed grin, as if he had just revealed a surprise birthday party that had been in the makings for months on end.

"So..." His hands rose, then fell at his sides with a swift thud. "What do ya make of it?"

...In truth, Estera did not know.

How in the world could any home be this secretive? And how could she have never noticed this before? She had always been one to notice small details in things, even as a child. But hidden staircases, inconspicuous hallways...the design of this home was really made with a severe lack of trust towards the average Kinoko commoner. Why was all this extra security even necessary? (Better yet, how was it possible?) What was Basil trying to hide from his visitors?

Estera knew, with a tingle of fear inside her soul, that she was not far from learning just that.

When Basil realised that his question was only going to be met with silence from his little sister, he paced for a bit around the room. It didn't seem to be out of impatience, though- indeed, his smile was loving, and his fingertips did not hesitate to caress every free surface.

The rather large, scummy bed that sat in the corner of the room, covered with plush goose down pillows and blankets.

Row upon consecutive row of dusty cardboard boxes (which made her sneeze more than a few times), some of which were overflowing with...papers. (Oh, no.)

A larger-than-life writing-desk which took up half of the right-most wall, adorned with things that were completely foreign to Estera.

A window- well, one could say a window. It might as well have been the entire front-facing wall, it was so big. What was the purpose of such a large glass panel, she wondered? Surely it had its hindrances. It was the beginning of summer, for crying out loud; who would willingly subject themselves to all that extra heat in their home (especially when one took the odd lack of curtains into consideration)?

And last- but far from least- Basil's precious satchel. It was hung on a shiny new nail next to his desk, and looked even fuller than it had been yesterday. Basil eased it off its perch and into his arms as kindly as one might a child, placing it on the desk's surface with an excited blush dusting his cheeks.

"Excuse me...Basil? If I may ask...what in the world is all of this? Why all the extra security? No, no- that's not the right question; sorry. How did you create all this extra security? How lo-"

"Slow it down a bit, Estie," her brother laughed as he began to remove odds and ends from his satchel. His nonchalance sent a shiver down Estera's spine; how could he be this dismissive of her fear? "First off, I need to ask ya something. Ya remember that old swivelling shelf that Mama always kept in the parlour? The...the one that we treated like a swing when we were kids?"

...Estera remembered it quite well, actually. Father had fashioned the shelf when she was a mere toddler, making Basil around second-grade age. The thing always reminded her of something that belonged on the Lower Kinoko Prep playground or the back of a piece of machinery, not storage for kitchenware and canning jars. Basil, apparently, had shared this sentiment (either that, or he just wanted to make his baby sister happy), so when no one else was around, he placed her on one of the lower-hanging compartments and swung her lightly back-and-forth.

It had been great fun...that is, until he let go. Then she- and pretty much everything on the shelf- had plummeted to the ground, unable to hold the extra weight on its own.

Needless to say, even though Estera hadn't been harmed (by some miracle), Basil took quite the beating that day.

Estera learned her place in the ever-hectic tide very soon after that.

"...Yes, I remember."

"Alright, good. That makes the explanation for this room a lot easier. Basically-" he picked up some unidentified thing, holding it to the window's light. "-the panels in this room function sort of like that, but not quite like that. Every time ya moved the shelf, ya'd see a new surface, right? That's just how it is here. But the creation of this li'le 'shelf...' well, that was a whole lot trickier."

With great care, Basil put down the object, and sorted all the ones he had pulled out so far into miscellaneous piles.

"Ya saw me running around the kitchen when ya were standing in the parlour?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That's because I needed to flip a bunch of invisible switches in the wall. Well, I say invisible- it was really just painted over to look like it was part of the wallpaper, just like the staircase. But once all those switches were flipped, I could turn a wooden crank that I built into one of the cabinets, and that crank would make the staircase go down and the tower go up."

"Wait, tower?"

Disbelief ripping through her brain, Estera walked swiftly over to the window, peering at it like a schoolchild would a dead bird. Sure enough, the two of them were several yards above the ground, and the parlour she had just come out of was very far away...

"Of course, Estie! All that working with my hands when we were little sure paid off."

"... How? How did you do all of this?!"

"...Honestly, I can't even remember," Basil said with a breathy laugh. "All those moons ago, I was able to figure out how to make cobblestone rooms fold in on themselves, so when this is down, my house looks as normal as can be. No one's noticed thus far, somehow- I suppose it's because I'm so far away from where everyone else lives. But it's been a long time since then, and I've been so busy..." His shoulders drooped in a wistful sigh. "I just couldn't tell ya how I did it."

Estera could hardly believe it. So that was why the staircase had seemed so much bigger than the house itself...! She didn't know whether to be amazed or fearful at this moment in time.

But the answer to her next question would be the main factor in her emotions to come.

"So...what is all this for?"

Much to Estera's dismay, Basil was silent for a moment. He turned one of his treasures- a glossy, roughly-cut stone- round and round his gloved fingers. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes anymore.

Was Estera prepared for what he had to say?

"Estie..." He put down the stone and strode to her side, taking hold of one of her hands. From this angle, the sun did nothing less than drench her brother in shadow, so his riverbed eyes were hardly even visible.

"Will ya get upset?"

Though this question made her blood run cold, Estera couldn't help but be amused by one word. Or, rather, the lack of it.

He hadn't asked her to promise...

...thank goodness.

"Just tell me. Please."

Time stood still for the star-crossed siblings, the illiteracy of the world shining through their souls like it never had before.

Basil took off his gloves with a fumble and a huff, revealing them to be covered in a very sticky...soot. No matter how much he fidgeted with his fingers, the grey wouldn't come off at all.

"I-I went...I went back in time the night before last. I'm a time-traveller, Estera."

*****

She couldn't move.

Estera couldn't twitch a single muscle, no matter how intense her desire to. Even her eyes remained unblinking as she stared her ghoul of a brother down.

"...Have you gone mad? Basil, are you alright?"

"Oh, come along, Estera, please..."

"No, please, it's a genuine question! Time-travel is impossible, Basil. It's the stuff of storybooks; everyone knows that!"

My goodness, this was much, much worse than Estera could have ever imagined.

Had he really gone this far off his rocker right under her nose? Were his candles melting into the cake, snuffing themselves out altogether?!

Oh, here we go again... Magic wasn't real; everyone with half a functioning brain knew that, and knew it well!!

He had never intentionally lied...but how was she supposed to believe this?!

Her feet found new life, and Estera began to wonder why the heck she even came. She knew it would turn out in turmoil; why did she even-

"Wait!! Estera, wait! Please."

Basil's hand reached out in a desperate expression of hope and love, clutching her slightly-sore wrist.

And though she didn't turn around, though she refused to let chocolate eyes meet sandalwood, though she positively hated herself for breaking her stride...she knew this was why she waited.

"Basil, what do you want of me?"

"Only to listen. I know how much ya hate my ideals, and I know that I have a tendency to rant when I get excited...but I would never try to hurt ya."

Estera let out a slow, hot breath.

"I know...I know. But what makes this time any different from the rest? She turned to look her brother in the eye, hoping he would not find tears. Tears never resulted in anything rational. "Your claims always hit some sort of brick wall, Basil. Why do you keep trying to tear it down?"

Basil's smile quivered, yet his grip upon her hand was just as strong.

Maybe even stronger, if that was possible.

"Because I have solid proof to give now. I wouldn't have pulled ya into something this extreme without solid evidence of my ventures. As much as I argue with ya about my beliefs, I still care for your safety. So please..."

His sooty, sweaty hand squeezed his sister's- only a silent pulse, but one that was obviously intended to comfort. Estera could feel the smallest of tears brimming her eyes, making her vision swim against the sun's cold, cold rays...

"...Can ya trust me enough to listen to my theory...just one more time? Please?"

Time seemed intent upon freezing this moment forevermore in Estera's brain. Was it a sign from the world, she wondered with a shaking heart?

Her older brother- psychotic and obsessed as he may be- was a good person. Indeed, Estera was certain that he was one of the few young people that actually tolerated her. He possessed the body of an adult, yet the mind of a child; Estera would be the first to admit that she was the exact opposite. It was better to air on the side of caution and law when it came to danger, was it not?

But she did have to admit...Basil wasn't lying about one thing, for certain. All her life, he had stuck up for her relentlessly, in any and every way possible to man. His loyal service ranged everywhere from harsh word-battles with bullies of the Lower Kinoko Prep playground to taking the blame (and the whipping) for a mistake they both knew Estera had made.

And no matter how reluctant she was, she had promised to herself that she would do the same whenever she could. Yes, she made said vow when she was a child, and had no true knowledge of the complexity of the world...but still.

At the end of the day, Basil was no stranger.

And all he was requesting of her- all he had ever requested of her- was to listen...

"Fine, Basil. Fine. Show me what you will...but promise that you won't force me into this."

Basil's grin was a little... too wide for Estera's comfort.

"I promise, Estie."

These words had barely been processed in Estera's mind before Basil finally moved his feet away from her, and he motioned for her to follow him to his desk. Its surface had become the definition of chaos, with nearly the entire bag having been emptied onto the wood-grains. Sunbeams from the gigantic window filtered just so through the pane, revealing the thin layer of dust that had already collected on the foreign objects.

"So...like I said, something pretty strange happened two nights ago. I had just arrived home, and was settling down for a nice afternoon nap, when my vision..." Basil looked down a tad, bolts of anxiety searing the wood. "...it just blacked out all of a sudden. Actually, no- sorry. It was more like a white-out; it was as if someone held a silver-hot candle to my eyes. When I woke up again, the weirdest thing happened..."

His fingers twitched and quaked like a miniature tectonic plate, and Estera could tell very well that...that he wasn't making this up. He could hardly even hold the glossy stone in his sweat-drenched hands.

"I awoke to the sound of cheering. Loud cheering. I was on a feather-down bed in some sort of medical hut, but I felt fine and I wasn't visibly injured. Everyone around me was either asleep, or..." He gulped with a dry throat. "...or dead, a-and I didn't hear any fighting, so I went outside to investigate the commotion. My gosh, so much was happening...ya know, it'd be easier if I just drew it out."

Abruptly, Basil pulled his pad and quill out of his satchel, and flipped to an empty (and decently dry) sheet. He hadn't had much of a habit for drawing when he was smaller, but anyone could see that the hobby had budded quite nicely over time. As he scribbled out his thoughts, his speech became a hazy whisper, focus increasing double-time.

"A huge crowd had gathered around a gleaming silver flagpole. They stared up at what I thought was the sun at first, but no...it was a soldier. A young soldier, with wings. He flew in a chaotic whirl around the top of the pole, lighting a black-and-orange flag on fire with a torch he had in his right hand. He looked like he had just returned from war... His uniform was a deep navy-blue, but it was extremely dirty and tattered. His skin wasn't that much better, and his wings...it was a miracle he was even flying. But his smile was radiant, and his blue eyes shone...and the crowd around him was just as joyful as he was."

Basil went eerily quiet, the strangest of smiles gracing his face as he scritch-scratch ed his quill absentmindedly against the parchment.

"...Basil? Is that all that happened?"

"Hm-? Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, Estie...heh. I tried to stay on the outside of the crowd, but a few people did notice me after a while. They backed me against the side of the hut, and demanded to know where I had come from and who I was. I was so scared, I-I couldn't think of anything else to say except for the truth." He laughed, though the sound was rough and raspy. "But they had never even heard of Kinoko Kingdom before...no matter how much I tried to tell them, they didn't think I was trustworthy. I suppose I can understand, but I was still pretty offended when more uniformed men dragged me to another building and locked me in a lonely little room."

His shoulders went up, then down, then up again swiftly. "Oh, well. At least I was able to collect some things before they handcuffed me..."

Though she should have expected it- after all, where else would Basil have gotten those foreign objects?- Estera was still quite shocked at this.

My goodness, he really did have concrete proof...!

Basil grabbed another bit of parchment, and began to draw once more.

"Thankfully, the room had a small window. I had to stand on tip-toes to see it, even with my height- but, still, it worked. And the walls weren't that thick, so I could hear snippets of passing conversation. According to what they said...there had been a war. The land I was on used to be a place called L-L'man...L'Manburg? I think? At any rate, the nation had been taken over by a dictator. He changed the name to Manburg, and ruled for ye... moons with an iron fist."

Quill left paper, and Basil stroked its greying feathers idly with his right hand.

"He had died of a heart attack just hours before my arrival, apparently. I suppose the stress of the rebellion finally got to him...and his death was a victory to the rebel's side. They called themselves "Pogtopia"- a ragtag mixture of peasants and warriors like I had never seen before. Some of them were in uniform; others wore plain tunics and knives...but, somehow, they were able to defeat an entire army's worth of Manburg soldiers."

A funny feeling bubbled up into Estera's mind as she listened to Basil's fond silence. The tale he told was so animated, so full of thought and life...

...nothing like this could ever be a lie.

Could it?

All the same, something- something that lay deep behind the layers of knowledge and fear, something she never even knew existed before this alabaster moment- it just...felt right. Very, very right.

What was going on...?!

"...But-but how, Basil? How could a shoddy army like that defeat such a trained regiment?"

Her brother smirked, and grabbed yet another leaf of parchment.

"There was a name that I heard whispered so many times I lost track. The person that led Pogtopia to victory was a man called 'The Blade.'"

"'...The Blade?'"

"Trust me, it gets stranger. They said he was hardly even human. Multiple people thought he would've completely obliterated Manburg even without the assistance of the resistance. One person...one person even said he was the god of blood...well. I saw him outside my window."

"What?"

"Don't panic, Estie; he wasn't literally right next to my window," Basil chuckled nervously as he sketched the beginnings of another scene. "He sat on a bench, in the midst of another crowd that was gathering near an ornate wooden stage. A tattered man with small horns on top of his head stood on a podium, giving some sort of speech. Everyone from the Resistance looked extremely happy...except for The Blade. The look on his face was one of utter fury, and when he finally stood, his sword was drawn and stained within mere seconds. He...I could hear him shouting, even from my room. He said something like...like..."

Estera watched with a quivering heart as Basil's speech began to falter. He only found the strength to breathe when Estera took hold of his free hand...

It's uncanny, really, the power a single hand can hold.

"He said that if they thought they were heroes...then they should die like them. It...it wasn't a pretty sight. They fought for mere minutes, but it was enough to stain the ground with a...I was so terrified, I-I couldn't look away! It was like my eyes were glued, I was so shocked...and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse...there was an explosion."

Basil put down the quill and picked up the strange stone again, massaging it gently with the tips of his quaking fingers. His brow housed little beadlets of sweat, masked almost completely within the shadow of the rising sun.

"It was no tiny boom, either. By the time the ground stopped shaking, I was buried underneath a dusty wall of debris. By some utter miracle, I wasn't badly hurt-" he rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a thick gauze that trailed from his bicep down to his elbow. "-just a couple of scratches, but...I couldn't see anyone near the stage alive. Well, except for two people. One was The Blade, with his cloak and robe all stained and ripped. The other man was inside of a crumbling, hollow stone...its entrance must've been uncovered by the blast. He wore a green-and-black robe, and had gigantic, raven-like wings. He used them to cover up something...something he had stabbed with his sword."

For what felt like the umpteenth time that morn, Basil silenced himself, and very nearly cut his finger from rubbing the stone in such a harsh way. Estera knew quite well that he was in great mental pain...but, well, there was no undoing this faint, queer curiosity in her mind. With the squeeze of a palm and a honey-sweet smile, she implored him to continue...

"Estera? Y-ya remember the stories that were always passed around when we were kids? The cautionary tales...the ones about what was in the Desolation Grounds?"

"...Yes."

"Keep those in mind when I tell ya this, okay?" All of a sudden, Basil had acquired a ray of energy, in which he channelled by taking a somewhat-gentle hold of Estera's other hand. "The black-and-green man flinched a little bit when he saw The Blade. When he did, his wings faltered, a-and I was able to see what he had hidden...it was a man, Estera. He wore a yellow sweater, one that turned more and more red by the second. The robe-man had stabbed his heart, Estera..."

When Estera's eyes chanced to grace over her brother's, they shone like stars, like the tears of slow, fickle clouds.

"...and he was bleeding through a smiling mouth."

He smiled genuinely- albeit sadly- studying Estera's numb face.

"Does any of that strike a chord?"

...It did. It certainly did.

And yet, once again, Estera was dumbfounded. Was this event that Basil was so wildly describing... really the origin of that tale? If it was, then how in the world had it survived for this long under the Kingdom's water-tight policies?

"...Basil...Basil, I-"

Bang! Bang! Bang!!

In nary an instant, all was quiet from the two siblings. Someone was at the front door...and no one (save Estera herself) ever came this far out of choice.

The paper collectors were here.

"Back down!" Basil whisper-shouted as he bolted out of the room, wide-eyed and frantic. "I need to fold this thing in once they're inside." Estera obeyed with little hesitation, hoping the sound of a pounding heart would be masked by the cobblestone walls...

Had they been seen through the window?

Would she be safe?

Better yet, would Basil?

Within seconds that felt like eternity and then some, her brother had opened the door to two...very familiar Post workers.

"Hey, Mama, Dad! What brings ya he-"

"You know quite well, Basil. Or do I have to make it even more crystal-clear for your idiotic brain?"

"...No, Mama."

Oh, no! Her parents were behind in their duties...it delayed their homecoming, yes, but for how long?

"Oh, really? Right. You're going to have to prove it, Basil-" two pairs of footsteps fell, clunk after click after clunk, directly underneath where Estera crouched. "-because your actions scream otherwise. And don't you smell that coffee? Take it off the boil before you burn this place down!"

Estera kept her voice as quiet as could be when she giggled behind her gritty hand. Unbeknownst to her parents, they had assisted their enemy by allowing Basil to go to the very place he needed...!

And he wasn't kidding about the cobblestone literally folding in on itself.

The whole process was much softer than Estera would have ever expected. As Basil turned the kitchen crank, the stone slabs practically slid down the roof like a fine piece of clockwork, finding a firm home on the floor. When all that was left of the ceiling was a gaping hole of bald sunlight, the layers and layers of stairs beneath her slid to the outer wall and rested upon the ground. Once all this was done, she was left in naught more than a crater of a room, its furnishings vulnerable to the elements, yet masked by the outer levels of the house...

So... that was why Basil's house had no lower-level windows, hm? Thank goodness Mother and Father had both gone inside.

All the same, it still felt odd that he couldn't remember how he had done it.

Speaking of their elders, the muffled foot-taps were becoming few and far between as their search came to a fruitless end. Her mother still had no words of praise, and her mouth ran unbridled by their father...

"...We'll be back soon, though, so don't think you've gotten away with anything. The Post is still on your tail."

Basil only chuckled in response. "What tail? Last I checked, I can't hang by my biscuits from any trees."

A mixture of a gasp and a laugh was what emitted from Estera, who had to cover her mouth with both hands now. When it came to sassing their parents' tyranny (mainly Mother, since Father was more of a doting worshipper than an instigator), Basil had always been the more outspoken of the siblings. Somehow, he was quick to turn almost anything they said into a jest, even if it meant taking a whipping for his "smart-aleck mouth." Estera, meanwhile, was more like their father- reserved, but not... entirely submissive.

After a mildly short fussing session, the two were on their way, leaving the hum of a slammed door to ring through the rafters...and, with a loud sigh, Basil brought the tower- and Estera's previous worries- back to life again.

"So..." Basil smiled grimly as he walked back into the room of illusion. "...are ya okay? I'm sorry about that interruption; ya know how stupid our parents can be."

"It's just fine," Estera tried to say loud enough to hear, though they both knew darned well it was not. Basil could sass all day, and she could laugh in the background all she wanted, but those sad eyes that might as well have been coded into their genetics would never fail to return behind closed doors.

But it would do no good to dwell. Brother and sister had more pressing matters to see to now.

"...Like I was saying before, though-" She gulped, wet her chapped lips some. "-are you sure? Are you positive that...that it was really him?"

"More than positive, Estera. Which brings me to all the things I found... They can help me prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt! Take a look, if ya'd like."

None of the things on Basil's desk had been disturbed by the fold-in, and the two of them studied each and every oddity in a crude assembly line of hands. Basil would pick up an object and hand it gingerly to Estera, who would inspect it at length with shaky palms before returning it to its keeper.

The queer stone was, indeed, not a stone at all: it was the fractured tip of a warrior's sword Basil had found outside of the hut. This was the closest she had ever come to holding anyweapon, much less something as deadly as a sword... No one in Kinoko had any need for weaponry; the walls kept out all potential threats from the abyss. (It was for this reason, in fact, that the Post workers and guards were the only ones allowed to keep weapons.) According to Basil, someone outside his prison cell had referred to its material as...netherite. Whatever that was... And each new discovery just got stranger and stranger with dwindling time!

A torn, charred piece of parchment, with music notes and the words "Well, I heard there" scrawled on its surface in barely-legible ink.

Ribbons of black-and-orange silk, frayed and stained with burgundy.

Someone's bracelet, which must have fallen off their arm in the midst of the flag-pole riot. When Estera opened one of its rusted golden charms, a slew of dried-up lavender petals rained onto the desk.

Thick glass marbles, with a sloppy letter "F" painted onto their smooth, baby-blue surfaces.

A brass button, with a thorn-lined heart etched into the rough metal.

Feathers. Lots and lots and lots of coarse black feathers, which had once belonged to the crows that surrounded the soldier as he passed. Maybe they had felt a need to protect him; who knew?

"There's one more, Estie...I saved the best for last."

What he handed her looked a mite odd from a distance, but upon further inspection...

Glasses frames? Or, well- what was left of them? They appeared to have been sliced in two, and Basil had only been able to salvage the right half. Music notes were burnt into the wooden frame; it held a simplistic kind of style that Estera couldn't help but admire. But its purpose had- quite literally- shattered: the lens looked like it had taken a wicked beating, and was barely holding itself together.

"...Whose are these?"

"That's why I saved them for last...they're the soldier's. They were blasted apart by the explosion, and the other half was still on his face when he died. It's proof that he's the man from the tale; why else would all those musical notes be there? And ya know what's even more amazing?"

"What?"

"Look at the wood. Can ya guess what they're made of?"

...The grain was fairly light, and textured with miniature (yet quite sharp) craters. Oddly foreign, yet oddly familiar...

Wait. Wait, no...

"...There's no way. B-but the haha trees went fully extinct over ten moons ago!"

"Exactly. And even then, they were never used to make glasses!"

...Estera was nothing short of dumbstruck. How could all of this be true? How could it not be true...? There was so much evidence to back Basil's corner- far, far too much for her to ever contradict with a sane argument. Concrete evidence, bits and pieces of an alien pseudoscience turned palpable in her unbelieving hand.

It had to be true.

She had to believe.

But...but it was all just...so...

"Basil..." Despite knowing the answer, she knew she would never be satiated unless she asked it anyway. "Why did you even bother collecting all these things?"

The smile he sported started to look like that of a fantasy-boy...and it fit him more than perfectly.

"Ya're always asking for undeniable proof, right? I'm glad that I was finally able to provide it...and that my dreams aren't all for naught. What I've seen finally seals the letter, Estie! So much of history has been masked for so long, and I'm tired of seeing us completely forget our past mistakes. There is something in the past that we can learn from, something that we need to know. And if I travel back in time again, I just might find out what!"

"Why do you think we need to know this, though? Please, don't take what I tell you the wrong way, this is all phenomenal-" Estera gestured to the display on Basil's table. "-but is it really necessary to show it to the public? Even if it...if it is true , it could still scare Kinoko stiff, don't you think?"

"But that's exactly my point!" One could tell that Basil was becoming more and more excited by the minute; his hands swung and pumped into fists by his side a bit before he spoke. "Those tales about the soldier and the riddle-man and the samurai have been around for decades, right? Since well before Mother and Father's time?"

Estera nodded...hesitantly. This was true, but what did it matter?

"Right. And they're cautionary tales- a story whose sole purpose is to keep us in the path of the law. A law that tells us that documentation on the past is illegal, and yet! The correlation between what I saw with my own eyes and what's been passed down from generation to generation can't be ignored. The singing soldier that makes ya die, and the warrior who died in a cave?" Basil chuckled with a strange sort of gusto. "Their similarities can't possibly be a coincidence. No offense intended, but even you can't deny it!"

"...What are you saying? Basil...Basil, no."

"Yes...I think someone did all this on purpose. They took history, twisted it enough to make it fictional and unquestionable, and used it to keep us in check. There's no other feasible explanation for these stories, Estera! Think about it- they've gone unchecked by the Central Post for how long now? We all know how airtight our government is. If they truly wanted to, they would've stomped out those tales a long time ago. But no. They've let them run rampant..."

Once more, they joined hands...only this time, Basil had removed the barrier of gloves. Alabaster-white met soot-grey, even if only for a moment.

"...and we need to find out why."

The sun had risen through the window so much by this point that Estera could take note of every ounce of glee on her sibling's face. It was the bust of a dreamer, the expression of a hopeless romantic when he realises the wedding bells are chiming his unique melody. She had seen that look on Basil many times, but never had his smile lines been drawn together so intensely. Never had his riverbed eyes seemed drowned in such a radiant, shimmering light.

There was no way she could invalidate a face like that.

Nor did she plan to.

And yet...one word he had whispered was tripping her up.

"...We?"

"...Yes, please. Don't worry! I'm not asking ya to go back in time with me or anything..." His eyes fidgeted a bit, looking over his hands with a small, sharp sigh. "It...I guess does something strange to ya. If I could avoid it, I would never ask ya to come with me. I-I just want ya to...to help me keep track of where I go, what I see. Two minds working together is better than one, right?"

"And...how do you want me to keep track-?"

The two looked each other dead in the eyes.

"You want me to write it all down, don't you?"

And though she already knew what this answer would be, something inside her still cringed when he let out a sheepish nod.

But why wouldn't she cringe? All of this was so blasted new to her, to Basil...to everyone. To think, just yesterday, she would have no part in this crazy phenomena! She had asked for proof as a sort of mockery, she realised now. A jeer, as unintentional as it was. For Estera had thought it impossible to defy their crystal-clear Post... They had all lived happily in Kinoko for nearly 150 moons now, had they not?

Yet, lo and behold, it seemed that pigs had now learned to fly. The impossible had been revealed as not just possible, but undeniable. A truth that had lived right under their mushcaps, with nobody the wiser to the blindfold...

What would she do?

Would she stick with the dreamers, or the lovers?

Had...had she been wrong? All these moons, was it she that was untrustworthy?

...My gosh.

Was that stupid phantom...really not that stupid, after all?

Maybe.

But how would she know for certain if she did not believe...just this once?

"Fine."

At first, it only came out as a whisper, one that Basil couldn't hear at all.

"I said fine. I'll help you... but only if you promise to not put me in any danger in the process. This is...a thin line we're treading, and there's no room for lackadaisical movement. I-"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!!"

Before Estera knew it, she had been enveloped into one of the tightest hugs of her life, one that lasted for a... very long time. And all the while, Basil babbled like the river outside Central Post!

"Oh, Estie, ya won't regret this one bit! I promise from the bottom of my heart, I'll do whatever it takes to keep ya safe. Actually, on that note, now that ya've agreed, we have a bit more talking to do, but it's a little over an hour 'till noon, so I need to walk ya to the house, but don't worry, Mother and Father won't see us; I know a back way! I need to pack up some things; I'll see ya downstairs!!"

And in a flash, Basil let go of Estera, grabbed his gloves and satchel, and sped down the invisible stairs...giggling like a child all the while.

Like the child he was...or used to be...or...well, who knew anymore?

Unease still rested in Estera's gut, but one thing was for certain.

More than anything in this world...she was overjoyed to finally see him happy.

Chapter Text

Leave it to Basil to come up with such an abnormal shortcut home.

It turns out, his plan involved treading along the outskirts of the rice paddies that lay directly next to his house. The only reason the irrigated fields hadn't yet flooded his abode was due to the uneven ground. Small (yet horribly significant) hills lay on three sides of the field, keeping the road, Basil's home, and the left-facing herb crops from being drowned. However, the fourth and final side of the crop- the only one that didn't require a mound to be functional- was what they were sloshing through now. The boundary walls kept the rice fine and dandy, but left the siblings to trudge through muddy, almost-knee-high water.

And on top of this, they had to take great pains in order to not disturb too many of the stalks. If they were caught by the harvesters (who, unlike the shroomers, were still working as hard as ever), they'd be dead...

All this adversity didn't prevent Basil from being his usual self, though. As they walked along, he whispered ceaselessly about the habits of particular breeds of flora.

"Now, in the early hours of the morning, that's when ya want to be looking out at these things," he said with a small flourish towards the head of the stalk. "It only happens for a split-second, but if ya're watchin' at just the right time- boom- the hull of the rice turns violet-purple!"

"Wait, the hull? It's not the individual grains?"

"No, it's the hull itself. Ya know, it's funny that ya mention that, actually..."

With a fond face, Basil dug about in his satchel, freshly packed with necessities and slung taut over his left shoulder. A bit of muttering and flipping later, and he was showing Estera one of his older drawings...!

"I sketched that out a couple o' weeks back...the grains really do look like they're coloured separately... Hm."

"They almost look like..."

"Like wha', Estie?"

"...Like flowers. Almost."

Indeed, the resemblance was much more than "almost" in Estera's mind. Grain after meticulously-fashioned grain weaved together to birth an utter masterpiece, even in drawing form...he really was a master at creation, wasn't he?

"So..." She took in a breath as they left the muggy air of the rice paddy, now entering the relatively dry herb field. "What more did you want to speak to me about?"

"Ah- thanks for telling me. It's not that I forgot, mind- I just...I dunno."

"Were you waiting for the right moment?"

"..Yes. Yes, I suppose so." He took a moment to soak in the sunlight, to let the beams highlight his grime-stained cheeks. "I needed to warn ya, Estera. Warn ya about somethin' that happened after I left the past."

...And here we go. Estera couldn't lie, she had fully expected something along these lines to come out eventually. Knowing Basil, he would try to dilute it as soon as he spat it out...but what then?

"...Well. Once my eyes went white again and I left the past world, I was transported to this...other place. A huge castle in the sky, made entirely out o' marble, marble as white as cotton." Like a twisted breed of mechanics, glee returned to his voice... "It ca...er, it said it was a place to rest and ease ya heart before going back home."

"I'm sorry...'it?' What do you mean by 'it?'"

Basil chuckled a little- a trademark sound at this point. "Ya see, that's the strange thing about this whole place. The castle itself seemed t' speak t' me, with hundreds 'a voices all at once. It guided me through the hallways and rooms and corridors, it even eased my mind from the pain of what I saw...but it also gave me a warning. Apparently, there's some sort of...dark magic inside it, somethin' that makes..."

He gulped, focusing on the ground which they walked upon.

"...It makes ya mind deteriorate. I'm not sure how, and I haven't a clue as t' why...but the voice said I could learn t' reverse it if I continue t' time-travel!"

...An astronomical amount of red flags began to sound off in Estera's mind, and she was more than a little shocked to hear the tranquillity in her brother's voice!

"Does that not sound at all suspicious to you? Something inside this...castle is rotting your mind, and you turn a blind eye to the cause?"

"Wha- no! I'm not turnin' a blind eye at all."

"Then why do you trust this place so easily? The security could very well be a ruse! Is that monstrosity what turned your hands grey?! W-what if it-"

"Estera."

Her name hit the earth's breath with such a silent force that she- even if only for a moment- became silent again. Even still, Estera certainly felt that her fear should not be overlooked! Yes, time-travel may be real. And yes, the Post might be hiding something, something large that neither of them could fathom...

...but how could the good ever truly be good if it had the blasphemy to carry out such a deed?

These were the questions; they were the deadly paradox in which Estera actively engaged in battle with.

But all Basil did was grimace a smile, his lips stained with an ancient sweat, and sit down right there on the ground. The only people tending to the herb field were all the way on the other end of the crop, and their rotations were few and far between, so they had little danger of becoming a hinderance...

What choice did Estera have but to follow?

She couldn't very well leave him now.

She never was a believer in breaking promises.

"Well...look." He adjusted in his seating, finally looking up at the sky. "Ya know how I'm treated by society, and ya know it well. When we were li'le, I suppose we thought the same things about the Kingdom's people- not just the Post, but the people in general. I don't mind that 'a all, though...we were children, ya know. But anyway, as I got older and got around more people, something just...clicked. It was a very slow process, but it did click. I saw how badly we were treated at home in comparison to other parents- and ones with burdens just as heavy as ours, I might add! It made me wonder...why? Why are people driven to such a state in the first place? Why do they feel it's necessary? And most importantly...why won't they change?"

If the two of them were whispering before, Basil's mutters triumphed over even that phenomenon. It was understandable, though...this had to be the most he had ever poured his heart out to his sister...

"My new curiosity- a philosophy, in a way- it started to branch out in all different directions. I became hyper-fixated on the flaws in our people, our nation. I wanted to find answers, for crying out loud...! But my search, even though it had some pretty solid conclusions, was always laughed at by Kinoko. No one put stock into my treason...no one ever did."

He took a rather deep breath, forceful enough to disturb the grass before his feet.

"And I don't mean to be insulting or chastising at all when I say this, but... I think you and they had the same reasons for mistrusting me. I mean, obviously- ya all trusted the Post because it never led ya to harm, right? Because we've been able to fend for ourselves and be 'at peace' for nearly a century-and-a-half now? But there was one big difference between you two. Everyone else shut me off from society because of my beliefs. Even Mother and Father didn't show me sympathy. Although, to be honest, I never expected them to...nor did I want it, I guess. But you? You were a lot different. Ya may not have trusted me, but it was obvious that ya still loved me enough to listen. Don't think I didn't see how tired ya were yesterday morning...Estera, that's why I held on. It was all for you, and for the hope of us being able to find our siblinghood again."

His left hand twitched, but the glove didn't quite meet Estera's skin. Not yet.

"I guess the point I'm trying to make is that, sometimes, ya have to sacrifice some things in order for the sun t' shine through. I knew all along that I would be able to convince ya that I wasn't insane. If I could get ya to join me at my side again, then maybe we'd finally be...like we used to be, ya know? So I'm askin' ya- no, beggin' ya- to support me with ya love and let me make this sacrifice. Just like I sacrificed my social standing for my curiosity, I need to let go of a bit of myself to uncover the truth from this place. We've come much too far to back down now, and I'm positive that it'll all work out in the end. The good...th' good's always worth waiting for, dont'cha think?"

For some reason, Basil let it fall silent, yet his mouth moved like it yearned to continue. To be honest, though, Estera was too dazed to do much about it. All she could do was take his hand and stare into the turquoise void of land...

It had really all been...for her? She was the reason he had held onto his philosophy for so long?

Was she really his...his source of hope?

It all seemed far too good to be true. So she had not been the only one who had longed for their past to resurface! Had Basil truly missed all of the love that bound them together?

"...So. Estie. Are ya still comfortable with followin' through?"

He squeezed her hand; it was such a subtle movement that a dazed Estera struggled to notice it at first. But it was the sequence that sent her senses on alert...

Two pulsing compressions.

Warm fingers intertwining into each other.

Their secret, nearly-forgotten code for "I love you."

And Estera found herself hesitating less and less to look her brother in the eye...even whenever she responded with an "I love you, too."

*****

"Erm, Basil...before you go back home, I have something more to tell you."

The two siblings had just made it to the Bareroot door, both of them acting more than a little antsy. After Basil's final confession and Estera's reaffirming of her faith, the secret trek back had been spent in silence. It had been comforting for a while- nay, even sacred- but rusted over like a poorly-preserved urn with every step.

Consequently, Basil's head jolted in happy surprise when Estera finally let out a whisper.

"What is it, Estie?" He closed the door behind him with gusto; thank goodness they had been the only ones outside. Estera had made sure of this with her silent, watching eyes.

She gulped under her breath, even as her pocket burned against her skin. "Well...it might sound a little strange, but something I found last night might help you with your...investigation."

"...Go on."

"Do you remember the necklace that you made me as a child? This one?"

As she pulled the crimson gem out of her pocket, Basil's face went from joyous to confused in an instant. "Oh, yes! How could I for...hold on, why's it glowing?"

"Well, believe it or not, it's haunted. And apparently, it's been haunted ever since you gave it to me."

She lay the necklace in Basil's open palms, letting him inspect it with delicate, smoke-whisper fingers. Estera didn't know what was harder to focus on: that shiny apparatus, or those shadowed hands of charcoal...

...boy, was she glad Mother and Father weren't home.

"Woah... wow. Haunted, ya say? By wha- by who?!"

"Keep it down, please. That's the eerie part about it. He says that he's the original King of Kinoko Kingdom...one 'Karl Jacobs.'"

His name was but a sigh, something that seemed meaningless as it dissolved on the wind.

Well, at least it was to Estera.

"...Did ya say 'Karl Jacobs?'"

"Yes. D-did you hear of him when you were in the crowd, or behind that door?"

"...As a matter a' fact, I did." Worry creased his face ever-so-slightly, yet he still held the necklace in a tight grip, whirling the agitated gem between his fingers. "It was only a fleeting conversation, and I couldn't catch all the details, but two very mad voices were calling him some things...not worth repeatin'."

They both eyed the jewel with nervous suspicion, its luminescence growing ever more intense.

"Apparently, ya li'le ghost was on the side a' the enemy during the battle...I wonder how he managed t' get himself stuck in here?"

"He claims that he was imprisoned by someone who felt he 'needed to be contained.' Honestly, that makes perfect sense now, don't you think?"

Estera could hardly feel guilty for her outburst, even if it was blasphemous and uncalled for. She was in good company, wasn't she? Indeed, she had to stifle laughter when she saw the necklace's hyperactive glow...he had to be going insane with anger in there.

Basil, on the other hand, was much too on-edge and curious to joke like usual. "Why's it glowing like that...? Is he tryin' t' say something?"

"Yes; the gem lights up every time he speaks. Although, he had to be attached to me in order for me to hear him...wait. No, Basil, are you sure?"

"Who knows, Estie? As much as ya obviously don't like him, he might be able t' help us. Just let me try."

And before Estera could make a single protest (or warning), Basil was clasping the chain around his neck! He was almost immediately caught off his guard, too, practically jumping out of his skin as his eyes widened like saucers.

"Hey-hey! Hold on, calm down! No, of course not. Why would we do that? She wouldn't possibly- hm? What? That can't be true..."

Basil's face was that of utter confusion as he looked at Estera. "He says that ya were 'slanderin' his honour and well-being' last night... What 'n the world happened? He sounds really upset."

"He's a brat. There's no need to sugarcoat it. And I did no such thing! He knows quite well that I was protecting my own well-being. In fact, the only reason I'm bringing him up at all is because of what you said this morning, Basil."

He sighed solemnly, obviously growing uncomfortable at the conflict. "I'm just...will ya explain, sir? Please?"

The two of them let quiet envelope the nipping air, only broken on occasion by hums of alarm or understanding from Basil. It was the kind of silence that grows more and more anxiety-stricken with time, the kind where one's mind is desperate for any sort of distraction. Estera found herself resorting to looking out the window and tracking the movement of her home's Kinoko flag to keep from scratching her nails against her flesh.

It was a habit she had kept since childhood- a bad one, yes, but bloody unbreakable. Whenever her parents would sit her down for a "family meeting"- sometimes alone, sometimes with Basil- they would fuss at her when she visibly twitched her feet or hands. "You don't realise how distracting that is," they would say with scornful irises. "You need to be conscious of this and stop being a distraction." As a result, she would relieve anxiety by shoving her fingernails into her hands, which she kept hidden underneath her legs.

The scars became painful after a while...but if pain was what kept her calm, then so be it.

"So...What you're sayin', sir, is that ya used to be the ruler of Kinoko Kingdom, but were trapped in here after a while by some unknown villain, and've been 'ere for the past century...? Oh- over the past century, sorry. And you need us t' get something...unburied from underneath the Library Ruins that may be able to help ya out? Did I get all 'a that right?"

He subtly looked up at Estera, who gave a nod of approval. At least the King wasn't changing his story...

"Hmm. Okay...well, Estera," Basil muttered as he fumbled with the clasp behind his head, "I say we give him a chance. The things that he could uncover t' us would definitely prove t' be very helpful in our search; you were more than right about that! Besides, he brought up a good point. Why would he lead ya to harm-"

"When he's literally attached to me? Yes, I've heard it all before."

"...Yes. Are ya still nervous?"

Estera didn't quite know how to answer this question. It seemed that the more the two were confronted with the next step in their plan, the more mixed her emotions became...

"...I suppose. Do you have a course of action for all of this? I mean, we're going to be...trespassing, after all. What if we get caught?"

His eyes glossed over, though his shoulders went up in a dismissive shrug.

"Well, first off, let's hope we don't get caught...don't worry. We'll be fine. And as a matter o' fact...hmm. That might work...!"

"What might work?" Estera watched with wary eyes as he began to pace back and forth in the dark kitchen, a smile forming on his face. (The sound of dirt crunching beneath his feet did nothing to ease the poor girl's anxiety, either.)

"Since I live so close t' the Library Ruins, I've pretty much got their schedule down pat. Every day, at exactly high noon, the Central Post staff who guard the Ruins all leave for about fifteen minutes t' get lunch."

"...All of them? No one stays behind?"

"Yea, each and every one of them. I don't blame them, t' be honest. If I got mushroom stew for lunch every day, I'd want to leave as fast as I could, too."

Hold on- had Estera heard him right?!

"Mushroom stew? You're sure?"

"I know. I've seen them get served; I'm more than certain. Can ya believe the perks that people like our parents get?"

She could scarcely take it in, much less believe it. How could the Post possibly afford to dine in such splendour like it was nothing? To think, while she and Basil ate little more than sandwiches or fruit salads in the mid-day, their parents feasted upon that piping-hot, scrumptious, positively decadent...

By the flag, it was insubordination!

As she stood there, her senseless jaw slack on the ground, Basil shuffled his feet in place. "Well, at any rate, you and I could easily sneak in during that time. If what this ghost is saying is true- and I'm sure it is, sir- we'll be able t' get there, find what he's looking for, and hide in that amount of time. Isn't there a willow tree near the Ruins that we could use?"

"...Yes...ah, but it can only really hide one person. Put yourself in the shoes of the guards, Basil. If they saw us behind that tree doing absolutely nothing, and then saw we had mysteriously acquired an object in their absence...they would be more than a little suspicious, don't you think?"

At her advice, Basil's face contorted in deep- and very nervous- thought.

"Well...what if only one o' us went?"

"...What? No, no. Please no."

"Why not? One person would be much easier t' disguise than two."

"But that's frightfully risky! What about if one of us gets hurt, or if you go into another of your time-travelling episodes? And there's still the possibility of being discovered by the Post. No, the presence of a backup is absolutely crucial."

He hummed in understanding. "Is there anythin'...could there be somethin' we're missing?"

As the sun crept higher and higher in Kinoko's sky, so did Estera's anxiety. Was there anything, anything at all that could help-

"Wait! I think I've got it, Basil."

"What? What is it?!"

"There's a small cluster of bushes a couple of feet away from the willow tree. If I crouched down as much as possible and took off my mushcap, I would probably be able to fit behind it and watch over you."

"...Me? Ya want me to be the one to keep guard?"

"Yes. Is..that a problem? It would work; I know it-"

"No, that's not the issue! I know it'll work just fine, it's just...if we do this together, you're going to need t' get whatever he wants, not..not me."

"...What? W-why me?"

"I know, I know you're scared...but I need t' have some time t' write down what I saw. I'm almost done, don't worry, but...I-I just want to get that finished."

"But you have plenty of time, don't you?"

"...I don't know. Please, Estera? Just to be completely safe."

Estera couldn't hide the tinge of frustration in her breath...but when Basil had a look like that on his face, he was going to do what he desired with no regard to anyone else's opinion.

He was kind overall, but gosh, when it came to some things, he could be ornery as all get-out.

"Okay... fine. As long as you keep a lookout...!"

"Of course. Thank ya...now, come on- it's almost noon. We need t' get into position!"

And with a (very quick) floor-cleaning, and a cautious flourish of the door...our unlikely trio was off.

But little did they know, dear reader, that their true journey had yet to begin.

Chapter Text

They arrived on the outskirts of their destination mere minutes before high noon, with identically tired legs and weakened lungs. Acting as nonchalant as possible, however, was critical as they slowly strolled in the direction of the Library Ruins. Thankfully, they had not yet been spotted by the guardsmen, which gave Basil the opportunity to duck behind the bushes under their radar. Sister and brother only had time to exchange one last smile...

...and Estera was on her own.

Summoning up all of her experience and charm, she strolled over to the willow tree, tossing a cordial smile to the guards as she did. They returned it with glee, some even waving in her direction.

As you and I both know, dear reader, this behaviour from the adults was not at all unusual. Yet it still made Estera sick to the stomach; she had never thought she would be reduced to using their love to her advantage...especially considering how adverse she was to their presence last night.

She had not a second to dwell on this feeling, though, for as soon as she sat down, footsteps of many bodies could be heard in the air. Craning her head ever-so-gently around the bark, Estera saw the guards making a beeline for the path towards town, chattering amongst themselves with nary a care in the world...

So. Basil truly did have a keen eye.

And as she clipped on the necklace to await instructions from the bratty phantom, it felt like she was locking the mechanism of an unbreakable shackle.

About time you got this ball rolling.

"Oh, hush, Jacobs."

Surprisingly, he didn't retort with anything more than a disgruntled sigh. Could the tension be getting to him, as well?

When the guards were more than gone, Estera forced herself onto her feet, placing one leaden foot in front of the other... She couldn't help but be surprised at how...not necessarily calm, but...dampened the Library Ruins looked when it was not surrounded by the law. In fact, one could almost call its aura...an inviting sort of mysterious.

The sun above was positioned just so above the Ruins, shining at its fullest onto every nook and cranny. She marvelled at the sight, inadvertently slowing to a stop when she was right on its outskirts. To anyone else, it was nothing but ash and remnants of a legacy gone too far, forever undisturbed by its descendants.

Well, almost undisturbed: it had already been scouted for any sign of life over a century ago...but nothing worthwhile had been unearthed.

So they had been told.

"...Let's...get this over with."

With the padded steps of a cat, Estera tiptoed into the beginnings of the Ruins. She tried to hop over debris, but mainly ended up almost falling at multiple points. Despite the height of her boots, cuts and bruises swiftly began to rear their ugly heads along her legs. The ghost's constant sighing and whispered scorns didn't do much to help matters, either...

...until.

Wait- there! Stop there. The ghost squealed, abruptly and excitedly. The energy! I-it's so empowering here.

"What energy?"

Never mind that. Dig; dig quickly! This must be where I put it...

With an exasperated groan, Estera kneeled down on the ground where her feet were (somewhat) firmly planted. There seemed to be nothing unusual about this particular spot; only the typical chaotic rubble coated the fertile soil below her... But despite the immense guilt washing over her in torrential amounts, she began to claw away at the mess, getting little bits of ash and glass and dirt between her fingernails, and staining her sweaty skin cherry red.

Though the work was long and tiresome, her efforts were not in vain to the phantom...when the earth had an approximate three-inch dent in it, he cried out in unmistakable glee.

At last...my freedom, unearthed!!

"...And the answers to our past. Don't forget what Basil said."

Yes, yes, that too. Oh, but freedom...!!

Estera rolled her eyes, then focused on scrubbing the caked dirt and dust off of...something.

A deep purple surface began to show, embroidered on the corners with intricate golden lace.

In the middle of this violet expanse lay an aquamarine spiral of sorts, twirling in the shape of a rectangle.

"...What is it?"

It's a book, twit. Can't you tell? Books were our main form of entertainment way back when...no. Oh my gosh. Well, don't just sit there like a lump on a log; pull it out already!!

If no one in Estera's general vicinity could hear her sledgehammer of a heart, it was an absolute miracle. She could count on just two hands the amount of books she had held in her moons alive, yes, but this one was still like none she had ever seen. Never in her life had she thought a book could be so large, so crudely bound. A musty stench wafted from the soil when she pulled it up completely, making her nose wrinkle.

But it was her hands that shocked her the most. They had gained an agenda of their own, and couldn't seem to stop caressing the dusty indents of the spiral.

What was this emotion that pulsed through her veins?

...Excitement?

No. Surely not. Excitement and nervousness are so easily confused, after all...

 Quit stalling, Estera! Open the book; see if the secret is inside. 

"But how will I know it when I find it?"

You won't, but I will. I'm going to...assume you're familiar with the concept of auras?

"...Yes."

Well, ever since I became a spirit, I can feel them like mortals can feel things in their hands. It's an amazing talent, I know...and one that's come in handy quite a bit.

Ignoring his overly-dramatic disposition as much as she could, Estera flipped slowly through the book. And oh, she hoped to the luck of the moon above that he would find what he needed soon enough...!

Alas, the papers were all smudged and stained, deemed invisible by time himself. The more that she turned the pages, the more visibly agitated the phantom became...until-

"Wait! There's...there's something stuck here."

What? Go on!! What is it?!

Hands shaking from exc- er, fear, Estera turned to the middle of the book, where the pages had been carved from the inside. A superb silver watch on a chain lay hidden inside, with only a thin layer of rust dancing along the surface.

Yes...yes. I feel it in a way I've never felt it before...not in all my days.

She pulled the watch out by the face with both hands, the coppery dust flaking onto her fingers as she rubbed them along its surface. Some exotic flower had been engraved into the metal cover, and the edges were etched with a lace of hearts. Beneath the watch was a small slip of paper, gritty with dirt and time. It was impossibly small- insignificant, more likely than not- but Estera shoved it into her pocket nonetheless.

"Are you feeling anything? We don't have a lot of time."

It's nearer...but not overwhelming yet. Try opening the watch.

Despite the little pressure that the pages put upon the watch, its latch was firmly shut...

Come on, put some elbow grease into it!!

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do. It's stuck-"

Estera heard a metallic clank.

It opened.

Just like magic.

Multiple flashes of a hot-white light consumed the air, suffocating all of Estera's vision with absolutely no advance warning. The wind began to pick up around them, as if a hurricane of vengeance had suddenly descended upon Kinoko! In all the sudden cacophony, she couldn't tell if she had let go of the watch or not; she couldn't even tell if her hands were still attached to her body. All she could sense was the whistling of the air, and the involuntary screams of both her and her comrade!

What was going on?

What had the ghost done?!

What was happening?!

And just when she thought it couldn't get any more horrible, the world went silent...

...and Estera fell.

*****

She could have been rendered unconscious for mere seconds. Or it could have been hours, or maybe enough time to pass beyond an ashy death.

But goodness, if this was the afterlife...then it was much hotter than Estera had imagined.

That was the only thing her scrambled brain could register at first- the heat was unlike anything she had ever felt before. When she brought her sandy hand before her face (wait; why was it sandy?), she found that she couldn't focus on it for long before her vision began to wobble and wave against the burning sunlight...

...what?

"...What in the world did you do?"

I didn't do jack! You were the one to open that watch, not me!!

"Wha- under your instructions! Don't you dare blame this on me, you little-"

"Ay! Who are ya, and what'cha doin' 'ere?"

...Oh, no. Now look what you've gotten us into...!!

Estera went as silent as a field mouse, making her muscles as rigid and dead as possible. The source of that strange voice crept closer to where she lay, crunching across the endless sand with slow, dramatic steps.

"You ain't foolin' nobody, playin' possum li' that. Git up, girl, 'fore I bring out th' big guns."

The voice was stern, yet not overbearingly so. Loud enough to command respect, but not make the one being spoken to numbed by fear. At any rate, Estera was quick to force herself onto her feet.

The rather squat lady in front of her could have easily been mistaken for an adolescent, were it not for the way she presented herself. Her hair was a dusty-blonde, pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck by a very rough-looking cord. An armada of freckles dotted her cheeks, highlighting her emerald-green eyes like a miniature, determined blaze. Her arms were folded over a thin, sky-blue long sleeve, rolled slightly beyond the wrists and drenched in sweat. She wore khaki cargo shorts, as well, their pockets bulging with unseen oddities. She held a large leather bag in her right hand, with multiple flasks of water spilling out of its side pockets. Dirt and grime coated her hiking boots, which dug into the sand with ever-so-slight impatience.

But when their eyes met, something about the rough-tongued stranger began to soften...just a tad.

"Good. Now, what'cha doin' 'round this neck of th' Isle? Ya ain't one 'a th' ones I hired."

Er- Oh, this woman can't know our origins; what if she tries to kill you?! I'll be doomed!!

"...Er..." As much as she hated his self-inflation, Estera knew the stranger was right. She must think fast, but alas, that was never something she was good at...!

"I-I fell asleep."

...The second that oh-so-obvious lie escaped her lips, she could feel her heart sinking inside her chest. Even the ghost's typical reaction of scorn didn't seem that uncalled for...

Laughter was how the stranger responded; it was a biting, almost frigid sound. "Honey, I been dog-tired more times than I care ta count, but I ain't never been s' tired as ta hit th' sack right smack in th' middle a' th' desert. Really, what'cha doin' 'ere? Ain't nobody got time t' bust."

Oh...what should she say? This was a total stranger; what if she was led to harm by revealing her true identity? With a rising sense of dread in her stomach, she recalled the horror tales of what lay inside the Desolation Grounds. They were branded into the crevices of her very brain, even if they were just-

...

No.

No, no. No...!!

What had Basil said...about that...?!

Had she been sent back in time?

Chapter Text

Each time I travel I remember less and less, the page read, with ink so faded and yellowed with time that it might as well have been a human memory. It could be so fickle sometimes, the Prince thought with a barely-audible sigh. I really need to start writing these as soon as I come back to the present day...

How his poor father expected him to salvage any of this nonsense, he did not know.

All of Kinoko Kingdom had known the Prince's father as King Ranboo for decades now. Gone were the days of terror and manipulation; that, at least, was a major plus. He and Uncle Tubbo both had really made names for themselves. Kinoko had thrived- no, flourished- under their rule, and they had grown in size as something comparable to the Bruadar itself.

(Well, that is, if the Bruadar had even been around to be compared to. The Kingdom, along with what little was left of Old L'Manburg, had teamed up some time ago to finally- finally- eradicate Dream from existence. That was the most welcome relief of all to Kinoko. The Prince could still see the look on Father's face when he caught wind of their victory...it had been one of the best moments of his life.)

And now here the Prince was. A grown man. All this good, all these amazing events that had taken place over the years...

...and he had been left to maintain it.

I'm going to start keeping track of every time I travel... I'm worried one day I'll travel and not even remember who I am anymore.

"Fat bunch of good that did you," the Prince snorted under his breath...only to regret it as soon as he let it escape. Oh, come on. He was Prince Michiko, future ruler of all Kinoko Kingdom. He was better than this, for crying out loud...but still.

He tried his best to be positive, he really did. That's what the King would have wanted, after all. But gosh, the world made it bloody hard to smile sometimes.

Okay. Come on, Michael. Get a grip on yourself. What did Father tell you? Breathe in...breathe out. Hum a tune to yourself if you have to. Anything to drown out the sadness.

Anything to numb the pain.

Maybe I should stop... 

A singular blank page. 

No. I can't stop. I have to keep doing my part...

...Hm. In a way, he felt poor Karl's sorrow. Obviously, he hadn't been put through...that, but the Prince still knew what it felt like to have...very little control. A good chunk of his life- namely his childhood- had been spent grovelling at the feet of world-class idiots. He knew how hard it was to float along with the whims of those around you.

But, in a way, it had helped him. He had learned to adapt. To flow with the tide, with the waves of the vast sea that surrounded the Kingdom, and use them to better his own situation. (Positivity, remember?)

And...it did get easier. Especially when he wasn't under pressure; then faith came to him as easily as the air he breathed. But in situations like this...well. Faith does has a way of being tested, doesn't it? He was reminded of the stories Uncle Tubbo used to tell him, about people from the past whose faith in righteousness and truth and love got tested beyond belief.

And it'd be over his dead body if he didn't pass. If he didn't do what was right by the people.

Maybe, if I travel enough, I'll be able to right some wrongs... Maybe do something to prevent all of the bad I keep seeing... I need to keep this quiet.

Gosh, the writing was thin here. The Prince had to squint just to read it. Karl must have really been out of his right mind...

I can't tell anyone what happens or how I know these stories... But I can try to do my part to steer this world in the correct direction.

The Prince's eyes went out of focus for a second; he had to close them and press a few fingers to his temple to collect his thoughts-

"...Huh?"

'Til next time.

But when he did...he saw something.

Don't forget who you are. 

Chapter Text

Don't cry. Please, anything but that.

Don't, don't, don't cry...

...but it seemed that her heart had a mind of its own.

"...I...I'm...to be honest with you; I-I don't...I just don't know."

Do you recall Estera's opinion towards tears and rationality? Well, the emotions that welled up in her heart and soul were so bloody intense that even she couldn't prohibit them from overflowing into her eyes...

How could she have let this happen?

"Oh, now, now, don't ya cry! J-just tell me where ya hail from. Where ya from, girl?"

"...I-I can't tell you, ma'am! I'm sorry, but I just can't...can't tell you. I'm sorry...!!"

...Pathetic.

Estera couldn't really argue there.

She had always found the way that she cried embarrassingly odd. It wasn't as if she didn't have cares to shed tears over; in fact, it was quite the opposite. But the older that she got, the less preeminent her sorrow became. Without even trying, she learned to control her emotions in the presence of the ones who hurt her the most...and it was only behind closed bedroom doors or restroom stalls that the drought was quenched.

Well...most of the time, at any rate. There were always some occasions where the pressure became too much to bear, and her eyes gained a mind of their own.

And no matter how sympathetic the poor witness was, it was always more than a little embarrassing.

"...Miss ma'am, are ya okay?"

"Y-yes, ma'am. I'm jus-just fine!"

"Ah, now, ya know better th'n that." The strange lady took Estera's right hand down from her face, exposing the sensitive tears to the world. She flinched at the touch, almost pulled away, but the stranger had a very strong grip. "Nah; I should be th' one 'poligisin'. I'm th' boss 'round this place, so I gotta watch out for eve'body wantin' t' come in. Señor Q- that's my boss- he don't want nobody comin' who don't got my a-okay. I's had t' pull arrows on more people n' ya can shake a deck 'a cards at. But...I don't think ya's 'round 'ere ta stir up trouble. Are ya?"

Estera shook her head slowly, trying to make sense of the stranger's words. "No... No, of course not."

The waterworks flowed less rapidly now, shutting off just as soon as it had started. Typical. Stupid, typical Estera... At the sight of this, though, the lady let go of her hand with a pat and a smile.

"I'll take ya word for it, miss ma'am...but I'm still gonna have t' keep ya with me. Señor Q'll have a cow if I let the likes a' ya loose. No 'fence."

...You should go with her. She doesn't sound like she'll take your head off, at any rate.

Though she didn't trust the ghost's judgment very much more than her own at the moment, she had to agree. Besides, if she...had gone back in time, she wouldn't accomplish anything by sitting here in unfamiliar territory. Who knew what would attack her if she remained idle...yes. It would be better if she followed the stranger, at least for the moment.

"...N-none taken...thank you, ma'am."

"Honey, it ain't no problem!" She got up with the aura of purpose pulsing through her smile, turning to lead their leave. "And if we's gonna be spendin' more time 'gether, might as well call me Nori. Or Boss. Whichever cuts ya deck; I'm good with either."

"Nori...alright. Thank you again, very much..."

And with a dusting of the knees and a shaky sigh, Estera found herself following in wary pursuit. She was still quite shaken up at the close call with discovery- this woman looked like she could do some serious damage if she so chose- but it wasn't like she could stay in the middle of nowhere for much longer. Or, no...what had Nori called this vast wasteland? A desert, was it?

Oh...what in the world had that stupid ghost gotten her into? If this was Basil's twisted world of time-travel, she had hopes of going home...but would she make it unscathed?

...Could she trust him enough to let him lead her through?

Why, oh why was she so foolish?!

"...W-where are we heading to, Miss Nori?"

"The work site. It's a couple miles out, so ya best change 'nta this tank top 'n git ya plenty of water. Ya can hand me ya sweater there; I'll put it 'n my pack. Hey- don't git waterlogged, now; only drink 's much 's ya really need. I've been 'trollin' th' 'rimiter with 'bout three o' four other folks, but we's been switchin' out ev'ry few hours. They's pro'bly back at the site by now."

"I see..." Estera looked around to make sure there were no witnesses to her undressing. To be truthful, she was quite grateful for the change in clothes; the long sleeve was really beginning to smell. "What are you all doing there?"

Nori halted suddenly, stirring up a cloud of fine dust. "...Ya ain't kiddin'?"

"Er- no, ma'am."

"Wow. Ya really ain't from 'ere at all." She laughed her biting little laugh, signalling for a thoroughly dazed Estera to come closer once she was fully dressed. "Come on; lemme fill ya in."

"...Yes, ma'am."

"Th' place has a really fouled-up history, I'ma be honest. The owner- Señor Q- messed 'round wi' a lot of big-wigged politicians back when th' Isle was a yong'un...wait. Do ya even know what th' Isle is?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"...Oh-kay then. In that case, best settle in f' a story."

She used the hand that wasn't holding her bag to point towards Estera's left. "All th' land east o' 'ere's known as 'Th' Isle o' Th' Bruadar.' Dang politicians ova' there run ova' each other s' much ya can't hardly tell who's who no more, but most people say it's split 'nta two groups: th' Dancers and th' Puppeteers. Señor Q's kinda rode th' fence all his life. He served unda' a Puppeteer for a while, but some...not-too-good things happened to 'em. That really took some skin off his nose, s' he broke away from politics and went 'ere t' build his own place, 'bout 14 a' so months ago. And he's assigned me 's th' one to watch ova' it while it's bein' built."

"...What led him to giving you this job?"

"Ha! I'm somethin' of a bouncer in my community, and Señor Q picked up on it quick. He's always liked my people, ever since he showed up... We've been livin' 'way from th' Bruadar for a couple 'a decades now. We's nameless n' rootless, which definitely causes a brawl or two, but we're able t' survive off o' good ol' common sense. Plus, we ain't as petty as the Bruadar lugs, and by gum, we know how to work."

Nori laughed again, but it wasn't nearly as harsh as before...something about it seemed almost fond.

"Eh, at any rate...I'm glad that Señor Q can find what he needs 'ere. And I'm glad he don't think we're bad... Ay- don't ya get all sappy on me, now, girl!"

It was obvious to Estera that Nori held little harshness behind this remark. In fact, the two of them were able to share a shaky chuckle over Nori's obvious fondness- and respect- for her employer!

Something about this moment...even to Estera, it was almost...calm.

The air was still tense...but heck, at least she hadn't been locked up anywhere yet.

"I'm happy that he trusts you so much, ma'am...what is it that you're building?"

"Oh- a casino. 'Las Nevadas Casino,' t' be exact... If ya promise t' not do anythin' bone-headed, I can let ya help us out."

Ooh, I remember this...yes, we've gone far back in time.

"...I'll certainly try to help you where I can...but what's a casino?"

Nori was silent for a while- so silent, in fact, that the sounds of sand crunching below them and the whispering breaths of the chained phantom seemed to amplify ten-fold.

"...It's kinda complicated. Bottom line, though: ya bet 'n gamble on things there...a lotta things."

Oh, gosh, it was a gambling house? Estera had heard of those back in Kinoko; gambling had been made illegal when she was in middle school, actually.

"What...kind of things?"

"Anythin'... Anythin' and everythin'."

The look on Nori's face was kind, but it told her that she didn't need to inquire any further. The more they walked along the sand in silence, though, the more nervous that Estera became.

And...dare she say that a sense of adventure welled in her as they walked?

Yes, Nori was quite hospitable...

...but what could she possibly be hiding?

*****

Estera!! Look ahead of you; you don't need to plummet to death.

After a half-hour or so had slogged by, Estera could see something jutting out from under the sandy hills. It only looked like a couple of clusters of planks at first, tied together with countless ropes. But the growing smile on Nori's face and the shout of the phantom told her that it was much, much more.

And it was, indeed...

The construction site of the casino was nestled into a valley of sand, with Estera and Nori now standing on the shaky edge of its summit. The startings of one wooden wall could be seen on the side of the valley closest to them, whilst the other three were completely finished, glittering an impeccable golden-brown. Their perimeters were marked by planks as high as the sky, tied together with cord after endless cord. A smattering of boulders lined random bits of the site, creating a rather shoddy boundary wall around the throng. An unending profusion of activity took place among this menagerie, with at least a hundred people dotted all along the beige floor. Raising panels into the air, painting some kind of paste into the cracks of the wall, hauling huge buckets across the site with no support but a staff on their backs...

To say the place was bustling would be an understatement.

Nori waved her arms and shouted something that Estera could not understand, something that held a similar accent to when she spoke of her supervisor. The people below her waved back, and Nori began to carefully side-step down the crater.

"Right 'ere's where ya gonna have t' be on ya 'p's' n' 'q's,' miss ma'am. Keep ya nose t' th' wind, n' ya won't get jacked with."

...There really was no going back.

But still...what wasthis force moving her forward?

"Yes, Nori. I'll be careful..."

The very moment their feet hit the ground, Nori bolted to a small group of people gathered around a leaning plank. She moved so fast that Estera feared to get anywhere near her frenzy, so she was more than content to stand back as she worked. And work Nori did; it seemed like the entire operation would fall apart without her guidance...

After a few tense minutes of her idly standing in the sand, Nori waved in her direction, a look of confusion lacing her face.

"Come 'ere, miss ma'am! We don't got all day!" She gestured to the crowd of people who had gathered behind her. "These'll be ya co-workers. Señor Q's gonna be back from th' Bruadar conference pretty quick, so we's gotta hop to it. Y'all head over to th' north side; they need help paintin' that wall. Get movin', now! Andalè! Andalè, chica!"

Okay! Jeez Louise!! We're moving.

Without so much as a single glance back, Nori's people jogged over to their designated spot. They were a mite odd to Estera's untrained eye, a carbon-copy assembly line of sun-caressed skin and sweat-drenched long-sleeves. But as she watched them, their passion and happiness became quite apparent. They still spoke in an odd tongue (why could Estera not understand their speech?), but laughter and tones can be understood by all, can they not?

To the left of the wall sat a pile of paint-buckets and brushes, which everyone set out to grabbing and moving to their own little nook below the wood. Estera didn't have any experience whatsoever with painting- her mother had never trusted her to complete such a "high-stake" task- yet she cringed at the thought of asking for help. They all looked so busy; who was she to interfere?

Come on, girl, get to i- oh, you've got to be kidding me, Estera.

The first blob of paint she pulled from the bucket dripped all along the sand, and splashed multiple people sitting near her without any mercy when the brush hit the wall. She tried not to look in their direction as she kept the mess from trailing to the ground, face burning with shame for the second time in an hour...

"Excuse me, miss? Do you need assistance?"

Within seconds, however, someone stood above her... They sounded friendly enough, with an accent similar to Estera's own, but she still steeled herself as she craned her head around.

The first thing that she noticed was the lady's hair. It was long and luscious, like black silk waving down her back in a work-worn braid. It complimented her navy-blue eyes quite nicely, and Estera thought the way they shone in the sunlight was nothing short of beautiful. Her clothes were similar to the rest of the construction workers, yet if one focused, one could see slight differences that showed the lady's class. The edges of her button-up were slightly frilled, and the linen of her pants looked much nicer than that of Estera's. Even her boots looked to be reinforced with leather stitches.

She smiled- a gesture of practice and effortless grace- and held her hand out to Estera. She was offering to take the paintbrush from her hands...and with a timid, pounding heart, she accepted the invitation. There were many witnesses nearby; surely nothing would happen...right?

"Here, chica, let me show you." Kneeling down, the lady moulded Estera's fingers around the brush's handle, painting along the wall in slow, methodical strokes. "The key is necessity. Apply just as much as your brush can handle, but nothing more. I had to learn this the difficult way myself; this paint is much heavier than anything I've ever handled."

...Wow.

Even her demeanour was soft...soft enough to nudge Estera's voice along the path to victory.

"...Why is it so heavy? I-if you don't mind me asking, that is."

Estera, what are you-

"Not at all! This is a special sort of paint, one that the Señor fashioned himself. It's supposed to make these wood-grains look like something much more expensive, like mortar, or even sandstone. The Señor has quite the tight budget, so he's had to live off of the land for many moons now. It's a miracle he even got ahold of this wood in the first place, but the locals have been so generous with their supplies!"

"..Are you not from around here?"

"Oh, goodness, no!" This stranger's laugh was more like a giggle, making Nori's chuckle seem shockingly loud in comparison. "No, I moved out here to help with Las Nevadas about six months ago. Nori- wonderful woman that she is- is letting me board with her and her family whilst I get back on my feet. She's even begun to teach me some Spanish! I'm quite grateful to her for that...!"

Estera's brush faltered in her hands as she turned to face the strange lady, ignoring the ghost's protests. "I'm sorry, Spanish? What's that?"

"You don't know Spanish?"

"N-no. Is that a person, a culture...? How do you learn that?"

The lady stopped suddenly, taking her hand off the paintbrush with a look of confusion on her face. "You're saying that you have no idea...what Spanish is?"

"...No. I'm sorry; is it something imperative?"

"Oh, dear, please don't apologise! I didn't mean to scare you at all... Er, do you know the concept of language?"

"Yes... Language is any word that's improper to say, correct?"

"Well...well, yes, but it has another meaning. Hmm...how to explain?" She placed her hands in her lap, looking up to the top of the wall. Estera watched her intensely, her mind a thorough jumble of thoughts. What could this woman possibly mean...?

All of a sudden, the light returned to her eyes, and her smile found her mouth once more. "Do you have any special words that you use with your friends and family? Anything that you say or do that means something deeper to that specific person only?"

At first, Estera had to stop herself from laughing aloud. Why would she ever want to voluntarily talk to her family at all-?

But then she realised something.

...Dare she speak it aloud?

"I...would hand gestures count? I have this...this thing that I do wi...with someone I know, a thing that only we know the meaning behind."

Estera, you-

"Yes, it would! That's essentially what language is. It's words that only select people or communities can understand. The people here speak the language of Spanish; that's why we call our supervisor 'the Señor' instead of 'the Man.'"

"So...let me see if I have this. The people here were taught this...Spanish from birth, and Nori is teaching it to you now? And their words for things mean the same as our words for things, like 'man' for us is 'senior' for them?"

"It's 'señor,' but yes, you have it. Try to put a little bit more enunciation on the 'n.'"

"Sen...señor?"

"See, there you go! Splendid job!"

The braided lady smiled bright as the afternoon sun...and something about it made Estera long to smile back.

Even if it was small.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to grasp that, ma'am," Estera said sheepishly. "Did I waste your time?"

"Are you serious? No, not at all! Please don't apologise, you're just fine. It was my pleasure to teach you."

...Oh my gosh.

Estera nodded her head in answer to the braided lady, too flustered to trust her own mouth. She knew that she didn't have a problem with it, and she knew her behaviour wasn't an issue...but knowing never made the feeling go away.

Even after all these moons, she hadn't a clue as to how to explain herself...so she had nothing to do except face the task at hand.

Face the wall once more.

"So, ma'am, what language do we speak?"

"Oh, what we're speaking now is called English. It's actually quite funny- while the locals here are teaching me Spanish, I'm teaching them a bit of English."

"Really? How is it going?"

"Pretty well! Slow, like any new language-learning experience, but well nonetheless. You see, I'm the only one that's ever available to teach them. Nori and the the Señor are the only other ones that are fluent in English, and they're always much busier than I am...oh!"

"What's the matter?"

"Here!" The lady rushed herself to her feet, sloshing a bit of paint out of the bucket in her hurry. "You can do this; I promise you. Let's get back to work, quickly!" Within mere seconds, she had returned to her station on the wall, without so much as a goodbye...

And she wasn't the only one acting strange, either. All around her, the previous chatter and bustle of the construction site dimmed to utter silence, and all that could be heard was the clunking of metal on wood and a slew of heavy breathing...

Nori, obviously, was the first one to move. She walked briskly to the edge of the wall, addressing something- or someone- on the side opposite of Estera.

"Glad t' see ya home 'n dry, Señor Q."

Chapter Text

...He had finally arrived.

Though Estera couldn't see this revered figure in the slightest, he still felt oddly close. His presence shifted the air around the sun-drenched site, making it seem stifling and unbearably lonely...and that was all before he even spoke.

"I'm happy t' be home, too, señora... I trust that everythin's still going well?"

Hmm...is that...? I think...wow. Even the phantom was at a loss for words...!

"Yessir. Everythin's fit 's a fiddle 'round 'ere. Th' wall's bein' painted, none 'a the boards 'er leanin', 'n we even got ourselves a new recruit...!"

The Señor stood with travelling eyes for a long moment, before humming with a...rather terrifying undertone.

"May I meet this new arrival?"

"Of course, Señor."

...Oh, no.

Estera veered her eyes to where Nori was so swiftly approaching, catching the fearful look of the braided lady out of the corner of her eye. When Nori waved her hand, Estera's legs straightened themselves with a strength she wished she possessed inside.

And when she crossed that wooden threshold, she found it equal parts easy and hard to look her (hopefully temporary) boss in the eye.

The Señor's general aura was nothing short of haunted. His appearance was...more than a little shady, and not at all what she would have deemed comfortable in a place like this. He wore navy-blue suspenders over an untucked, very baggy white long sleeve, its first few buttons left undone for air circulation. Behind the buttons lay a rusted silver chain, leaving a faint trail of blue upon his tanned skin. He had already taken off a dark-blue vest, which he held in the crook of his left arm. His shoes were like a pair of penny-loafers from back home, but neither held a coin in their hole. Instead, a small, black-and-white chip rested in its slot, with a...strangely angular smile painted on its surface. Estera longed to focus on the ground, but couldn't make herself train her eyes anywhere near this oddity for very long...

But, alas, his face wasn't that much better.

The most notable thing was the scar. His right-facing eye was completely whitened by a huge gash that stretched from his forehead to his lower lip. (Since his mouth was only slightly open, Estera couldn't be certain, but she thought that one of his teeth in line with the scar was chipped...!) The eye that wasn't blind was as dark as chocolate, highly resembling Estera's own sorrowful irises. She couldn't even imagine how it would shine in full lighting; right now, his face was heavily shadowed by his navy-blue postboy cap. It sat on a mop of messy black hair, probably flattened by the accessory.

"It's a pleasure t' meet you. The name's Quackity, but you've probably heard me called 'The Señor' or 'Señor Q'. Who are you?"

...Quackity? Goodness. Maybe it was a nickname. At any rate, the phantom said absolutely nothing; did he know him?

"...My name's Estera."

She steeled herself for impact- or, worse, further inquiries- but was only met with silence. Quackity was preoccupied with looking her over rather than asking questions, it seemed. In fact, the only one who looked confused or upset at all was Nori, but she held her tongue in the presence of her boss.

His eyes were still as light-numbed as ever, especially when he focused on her sand-caked mushcap for an uncomfortable amount of time...whatwas that sheen of longing coating his pupil? Her heart quickened at the sight.

"...Estera, hm...? Ya don't look like you're from around here. How'd you hear about this place?"

"Er- I told 'er, Señor. She was 'boutta cook out 'n the dunes, s' I told 'er we could help each otha' out."

The feeling of gratitude she held towards Nori in that moment was incomparable, but she still felt just as nervous. Why did he look at her in such a way...? Thank goodness the phantom was (temporarily) silent; she could only imagine what Quackity would say about the glowing abomination...!

After a few nerve-wracking moments, Quackity shrugged ever-so-slightly. "Well, I'm grateful t' have ya on the team."

"'S tha' anythin' ya need from us, Señor?"

"...No, I don't believe so. Actually, I was gonna ask ya th' same thing."

"Oh, no, we's just fine!" Nori took the vest from Quackity's hands, clutching it like it was a yard of priceless cloth. "Ya just sit y'self down ova' there. Take it easy; ya gotta be plum tuckered out!"

Estera had to smile a tad at Nori's insistence, and they followed her to where a chair was quite conveniently positioned. She found it amazing how her personality had changed from no-nonsense to doting so quickly...someone was certainly eager to please, weren't they?

"Everythin' should be 'ere, Señor. Ya've got a good view a' th' site, and I can get ya anythin' ya need later. We shouldn't have too much longa'; it's only a couple more hours t' sunset."

"Nori, I'm fine. Trust me. Th' only thing I need is my guitar n' some water, please."

"Ya got it, Señor Q! They always love it when ya play for 'em."

...I don't think I've ever seen anyone as annoying as her...and that's saying something.

...Oh, goodness.

Nori bustled off with her task in mind, leaving Estera alone with her strange new master and her reeling thoughts.

"She never fails to amaze me..."

"Really, sei- er, Señor?"

"Mm-hmm. Actually, everyone here does." The more he talked, the lower his voice became, and the higher Estera's anxiety climbed. "She makes 'em show me respect without me even having t' try..."

He let the air fall silent, resting his fist on his scarred cheek, staring blankly into the distance with an eye of bridled starlight...

What could he possibly mean by his remark? Surely Nori wasn't the only reason they feared him like the everlasting shadow he was...correct?

Slowly- but ever-so-surely- a strange curiosity began to blend with her anxiety.

Nori's strange face when she spoke of the casino.

The man with the sadness of a weeping willow tree.

The people who were...what, exactly?

Not to mention the phantom's eerie, thought-provoking silence...

The secrets of Las Nevadas were certainly hefty ones...would they be revealed to her if she stayed long enough?

...Hold on.

This was crazy.

Why do I care?

"Order up, Señor Q!"

Quick as a flash, Nori returned to Quackity's side, guitar strap in her left hand and water canteen in the right.

"Ya sure this's everythin' ya needed? I can-"

"Nori. It's fine, I promise ya. Don't worry about me; I'll- I am fine. I'm more concerned about y'all than anyone else!"

"Only thin' they want's a song, Señor."

His smile was still small, alas, but it was the largest one Estera had seen out of him yet.

"Then a song's what I'll give them."

And the two stood there, solid and rooted as trees, photosynthesising off of his idle twanging...that slowly turned into a melody.

The second that he began to sing, the people around him cried out in happiness, and joined in the tune flawlessly as they worked. Estera herself could understand none of the lyrics whatsoever; they must have been written in that Spanish language. However, as mentioned before, dear reader, there are certain things in this world that do not require translation...

Quackity's song was just as phantom-like as his face, a never-ending daze of unwavering sound. His voice rang with love, with fear, with...longing, with a sorrow that sent shivers down Estera's spine. The chill was strong enough to warrant her grabbing her sweater, which lay in a heap near Nori's pack nearby. Yet all the while, his grip on his guitar stayed steady and true to his quest. Even when his eyes closed to properly feel the music, not a single sour note played.

And as the melody drew to a close and the people began to clap...Estera could see the fickle stars begin to shine upon his eyes.

Even if it was temporary.

Which, of course, true happiness always seems to be.

Always...

That was...decent.

"Oh, Señor Q...ya sing like a bluebird; ya really do."

"Thank ya. I appreciate it very much...hold on."

With caution radiating from his brow, Quackity slowly stood up, eyes trained on one of the boulders surrounding the site. At first, Estera noticed nothing unusual about this spot...but when the setting sun dared to peek beyond a stray cloud, it shone in all its glory onto quite the alarming sight.

What the...?!

A shadow.

The shadow of a human...with something smoking in its hand!

"Oh, Señor, it's that spy 'gain...! Th' one I told ya 'bout! And...oh my- is that dynamite they's holdin'? We need t' git' em!"

Being the head-strong individual she was, Nori grabbed the first thing she could out of her pocket- a pocketknife- and began to run into the fray-!

"Nori, stop! It's fine."

"...Why? They's been-"

"I know him, Nori."

People around them began to look at the scene with wary curiosity... A stranger? How could he possibly know this man?

"...Nori, please don't worry. I can take care of it."

She stood still for but an eternal moment, joining the surrounding spectators in their silence...before stepping to the side, a pinched grimace gracing her lips.

(Yes, she seemed fond of her employer, but this move still visibly surprised Estera. She had to have seen some commanding emotion on his face; she wouldn't back down on her own accord that easily...!)

With a grateful smile, Quackity propped his guitar on the side of his chair, took one last drink of water, and strode with a shake to where the shadow stood. Cautious steps radiated in the evening air, and even the shadow appeared to still as Quackity approached closer. It brought the smoking thing up to its lips, and blew on it like one would a candle before tossing it to the ground behind the boulder. Everyone's relief was palpable as they saw the remnants of shadowy ash fall to the sand...but fear still hung like a veil over Estera's heart.

All the people around her- after exchanging a couple choice glances between each other, of course- returned to their work. Even Nori went back to shouting out her instructions, only allowing herself a hefty sigh before moving again.

But Estera couldn't bring herself to move...it was if her feet were shackled with leaden chains.

The chains of...infatuation.

She had never struggled with this before, yet now it silenced her mind like an invisible curtain of black. No matter how she tried to fight it, her...interest in this mysterious place just kept growing and growing. She feared a major part of it, that could not be denied, but all the same...the fear practically spoke to her soul.

And for once in her life, it refused to let this terror be smothered by logic...

It yearned to conquer.

...Did she dare satisfy this foreign emotion? Nori and the others would not be easy to pass by unnoticed and unmissed. And the phantom seemed more scared than enthusiastic now...

...but her quivering soul left her two choices. Urgent ones. Either give in...or die in her guilt...

"...support me with ya love..."

Nori was facing a group of painters now, completely oblivious to the turmoil of her new recruit.

Thus, before she could have a chance to run away, she ran forward...and didn't dare to look back.

Maybe, if she didn't face the issue, it would go away.

Maybe philosophy would work in her favour here.

Maybe.

However, with the aid of sheer luck, Estera was able to make it to the right-most boulder unscathed...giving her a clear view of both the sandman and the shadow.

Oh my-! It's him!!

"Who?" Estera kept her voice as soft as her mushcap, though it was quite the struggle. "Who is it?"

Shut up, twit, and let me listen!!

...To say the very least, the intruder- whose back was pressed lazily against the boulder- looked more like a corpse awaiting the ashchamber than a mortal soul. He wore a faded yellow sweater, stained with what looked like blue paint in a tilted line from his collar to near his hem. His black trousers were very muddy, and ripped considerably at the knees. Despite the stifling heat of the land, he sported a heavy-looking tan trench coat, also quite dirtied up. All the buttons except for the top one were undone, making it look more like a cloak than a jacket. (Actually, something seemed to be hidden underneath the fabric of the coat's back, two stubs that jutted out and pressed against it awkwardly...) His mop of brown hair was in desperate need of a washing, and boasted of a very loud white streak near the front. He wore heavily-patched maroon shoes, caked in the typical time-dulled desert clay and sand.

Overall, he was certainly a very eerie being, with a gaze much, much colder than Alex's stare of spectres. Even his voice seemed frigid.

Yet none of the obvious things were the ones that made her heart skip a beat...

...his glasses.

By Kinoko. They...they were split in half!

Estera forced her hand to fly to her mouth in order to keep from gasping aloud. This was the soldier Basil had spoke of; it had to be! And yet...

...how in the world was he alive?

"Hola, Quackity... I see my guitar lessons have served you quite well."

*****

"...So. The rumours are true. I was wonderin' if you'd show ya mug around here or not," Quackity said, looking the soldier-corpse directly in the eye. "It's almost spring, ya know."

"Oh, but didn't you hear that...oh-so-doting maiden? This 'mug' hasn't just turned in the gate, not by a long shot."

This man...his voice was much like Estera's own, and the braided lady's. His smirk radiated a playful sort of energy, and she could see- with much surprise- that this testing smile was beginning to rub off on Quackity...!

"And how, I wonder? Ya don't even have a canteen with ya; ya pockets ain't bulgin' at all. How are ya survivin' out here?"

"...I have my ways."

"Of course. Of course ya do..." Quackity rolled those sorrow-sodden eyes, turning his eerie smile to the waning sun. Strange how his eyes betrayed all the uplifted energy that could have ever been written upon his face...

But a performance does not cease to be for the shortcomings of the actors...does it not?

"Oh, come now, Quackity. Don't act so put off! I'm merely echoing words of the past. Just like we all have..." The soldier walked almost directly behind Quackity, hands clamped together behind his back. "...have we not?"

"Tongue's still harsh as ever, hmm? But ya tone...it's softer than normal." Quackity lips quivered a tad as he turned to face the stranger head-on. "Ya don't sound like ya intend t' poke fun at my problems."

"Do you not know me at all?" A brisk bark of a laugh came out of the intruder's mouth. "Of course not! I'm far beyond petty chastisement, thank you very much."

The casino-man considered this for a bit, face drooping ever lower. In fact, the same wariness of yore could be felt as it returned to the atmosphere...what had been said that was so crucial to the mood?

"But still. It's just..." Much to Estera's relief, Quackity managed a small smirk once more, fiddling with a button on his sleeve-hem. "I'm not too familiar with your definition of an 'echo.'"

"Why don't you sit down, and I'll tell you? We haven't talked for over a decade."

"...Has it already been that long?"

"Ah, yes." The stranger chuckled in an almost...deadly tone, undoing the top button on his trench coat. "Time, it flies in mortal's eyes..."

When the coat fell to the sandy ground, it revealed...

"...yet gods, alas, have slain to pass."

...Wing-stubs?

What? But...but that was the stuff...of...

...the stuff of magick.

Even Quackity seemed a bit caught off-guard by this movement, but was quick to retaliate with a smile-choked "oh, sit ya biscuits down already."

If only Estera could recover that easily...this man used to have wings?! Indeed, if he had, their true colour and type would be impossible to identify. On top of them having been cut to the very bone- making them just a couple of inches long- their feathers were stained by the deepest and oddest kind of black. Estera knew it had to be something like charcoal from the way it powdered on the ground and onto the man's sweater...but it never seemed to fade away from his person.

...What kind of genetic fluke had happened here?

The oddball pair sat in silence, with both their backs pressed against the rock and their heads turned towards anything but the casino...and themselves. In fact, though they had looked almost theatrical mere moments before, a veil of toxic quiet was quick to settle before them.

They had sat...what now?

"So, Quackity...how is everything out 'ere?"

Quackity's look was...probably intended to be sly as they looked each other in the watery eyes. "You haven't answered my question."

"Or have I?" The intruder took something out of his pocket- a cigarette, from the looks of it- and twirled it between his fingers. "What is it that you pine for, Echo?"

...Echo? Like what Quackity had said before? Did he mean a vocal echo, or...or something else? It had to be the latter, because Quackity's already-weak happiness began to quiver.

"...Sorry, Q. I thought-"

"You're fine." Curt avoidance permeated Quackity's ever-so-temporary grin as he looked to his right, away from the intruder and almost towards the construction. "It's going alright here...no one's left me, at least."

"...That's always a relief to hear. From what little I've seen, the people here really seem to like you."

"You said it, Wilbur."

...Wilbur.

So now he had a name. To Estera, it seemed almost...underwhelming. Not at all what she would have expected from such an overwhelming man...

But then again, as she realised now, she really hadn't known what to expect.

How could she predict anything from such a twisted, enthralling tale...?

"Oh...! Tha-"

"Don't get ya hopes up. That's not what I meant. Ya really haven't seen much, if ya think they're here 'cause they wanna be."

All of a sudden, Quackity's tone bordered on predatory, and Wilbur obviously sensed this. Even his cigarette fell to the ground.

".Whatever do you mean? The locals-"

"Are the best actors this side of the Bruadar!"

Silence.

Quackity hadn't exactly...yelled, but he had raised his voice enough to set Estera on-edge. She recognised his tone well; it was the kind that one sports right before the unravelling.

Indeed, as he sighed, Estera knew she was about to witness something that might...

...it might change everything.

"I guarantee ya, the only reason Nori doted on me so much is because of that new girl that came..." He turned his face to the ground, a single drop of starlight glittering in his eye. "I bribed 'em, Wil. I bribed 'em with a better life, in exchange for helpin' me out.... When I first met 'em and told 'em where I hailed from 'n who I was, they didn't want anything t' do with me. Especially Nori; my gosh...I didn't think she'd ever shut up about my 'jacked-up ideals' and 'tainted soul'. But when I broke away from...that...I was able t' get 'em to help me out, after I made 'em a promise."

The face that Wilbur gave Quackity was the most terrifying one of that evening (and, let's be honest, it had to mirror Estera's own). Even the clouded sunset could not dull his terror now.

"...Quackity, what did you do?"

"Nothin' like that; settle down...I'm stronger than that now." Quackity's eyes closed now; Estera could only imagine what lay inside his head. "But bless their souls, th' entire village was barely gettin' by. When I asked Nori how they were copin' with desert life, she insisted that they were alright, that they were tougher than any ol' 'Bruadar scum'," he noted with air-quotations. "She said they could live off 'th land just fine...but that can only take ya s' far in the middle of a desert. They made it for a couple of decades, but now...disease and drought finally got to 'em."

The water began to trickle into his voice now...but not quite in sadness. What wasthis odd emotion that so suffocated the air?

"They were fallin' apart, Wilbur. I hadto help them. I knew that I could get a steady source of better food 'n income from the Dancers inland. No matter how much they might hate me, I knew there was no way in heck they'd turn Nori's people down. But when I told her I could strike a deal with her 'n her people...whew. She tossed me 't the ground faster than a sack 'a coal on Christmas Day."

"Feisty?"

"Feisty...gosh dang." Quackity laughed, much to Estera's surprise, but before she recognised it as a very specific kind of laugh. The kind that one drags out when one is at their wit's end...

...right before they finally unravel.

Wait. Lamentation. That was the emotion here, wasn't it?

Goodness, she knew it well.

"We fought for I dunno how long...but then she finally saw sense. Took one hell of a hard knock t' do it, though..."

A wind began to blow around Estera, slowly and lovingly, like a cool soak in a bath at the end of a long day.

It felt like...comfort? Or was it a warning?

"What happened?"

"...One 'a her jobs is t' look after the orphaned kids of her village. One of 'em- a baby- was born extremely weak. She was attached 't the thing like...like crazy, and she was hell-bent on carin' for him day and night. By some complete miracle, she was able 't nurse the thing it back 't health, and he became th' pride n' joy of the village. He still had bouts a' heart murmurs for years into his teenagehood, though..."

There was that word again- years. That was what the ghost had called them, hadn't he? Wilbur smiled at Quackity's recollection, though his lips seemed quite wary.

"Anyhow, once the summer came, a drought had hit 'em and hit 'em hard. The lack 'a nightly rains left 'em with a lack 'a water..."

Silence... A deadly sort of silence, that was only broken by Wilbur placing a hand on Quackity's shoulder.

"You can tell me. It's safe here."

"...The boy nearly died. Dysentery almost got 'em in his sleep. Their stockpile was just barely enough t' help 'em along, 'n his body did the rest. I mean, sleepin' s' the best time for th' Angel t' catch someone, sure...but he was only 15. Too young t' be worryin' 'bout that...That's what convinced Nori and th' others t' accept my help. I got 'em some canteens 'n better medicine, and no one's gotten that close since..."

...Only 15. Just a moon younger than Estera herself.

Quackity's tears came steadily now, but they were much more silent than Estera could have ever managed. The only reason she could tell he was crying at all was from the pin-like drip-drop of water onto the sand before his legs. Wilbur's hand moved from Quackity's shoulder to his back, stroking over the clothed skin like a mother would to a frightened child.

(But there was something strange hidden beneath the baggy cloth; when Wilbur's hand pressed it down, it revealed two rough little humps on Quackity's back...did he sport wings, as well?)

"...I'm glad that they're doing better."

Quackity sighed, a monochrome mixture of sorrow and relief on his face. "I suppose they are. And the work's movin' as fast 's ever... Funny, though- before they sealed their end a' th' deal, they still made me swear up n' down to keep them secret from the Puppeteers in th' Bruadar. So accordin' t' everyone except us two and th' Dancers, I'm buildin' Las Nevadas all by myself." He looked Wilbur in the eyes once more, and he nodded from behind a half-spectacled face. Quackity looked away once more, a bit of... was that sudden thing anger, rising in his rusted joints?

"They told me it's a matter a' protection...and maybe that's part of it, but I think they're more green around th' gills to be acceptin' help than they're lettin' on. You may think they love me..." He brought his knees up to his face like a true child, finally letting himself a little bit free. "...but I still feel 'em starin' me down when I turn my back."

For some reason, Estera longed to remove herself from the shelter of shadow, and give her impromptu employer what little comfort she could. But her presence would surely do more harm than good...this was a conversation between them, and them only...so they thought, at least.

"...I'm sorry, Quackity."

"Wilbur, ya know better than that." Quackity looked to Wilbur with the same touchy anger of yore bubbling to the surface. "What, have ya finally broken your lyin' streak, after all? Did ya come here to mock me or not? Ya know darn well that apologies can't fix anything."

"I know, and that's not what I meant to insinuate-"

"Well, the world hasn't changed these past 13-and-a-half years!"

...This time, he did yell, loud enough to rattle Estera's heart from beneath her chest. She feared to turn her head around to peer at the site, but she could tell by the silence that Nori's people had heard, as well...

Yet no one made a move...even as Quackity sighed.

"...That kind of comfort's still as meaningless as ever."

"...I didn't come here to make your issues worse. Actually, I get the feeling that I know only a fraction of what you suffer from. If the world didn't change while I was gone, that doesn't make me feel better about the emotions of its inhabitants. Talk to me, Quackity..." Wilbur moved his hand onto Alex's shoulder once more, and though he didn't let his scarred face soften, he still let himself droop a tad.

"...maybe it'll help more than you think."

When Quackity let his lips move again, Estera could hardly even hear his words. Only the last few rays of sunlight illuminated his face enough to see him and his...comrade.

"Why? What is there t' talk about anymore? What is there t' resolve? Ya vent and ya vent, and people tell ya they love ya...and all they do is stab ya in the back all over again. Ya know this well."

Wilbur's eyes widened just a bit with some foreign emotion as Quackity looked him over.

"The one that took your life-"

"Did it because I told him to." Wilbur's own voice quivered now, but his glare could penetrate through stone if he so chose. "Please. Keep Father out of this."

"...I'm so- er, I-"

"You're alright...you're fine."

"...Hm. But still... I came out here to finally forge my own legacy...to show people I'm more than just a puppet on a string." He looked up to the sky, at the sliver of a moon peeking out from above. "But sorrow just seems to follow me everywhere I go. I'm crying more and more every day now, even though I'm so far away from...from him."

...Judging from the starlight in Wilbur's own eyes, he seemed to know who "he" was.

"Why, Wilbur? Why does it have to be this way?"

There could be no sane answer; even Estera knew this. What move was Wilbur going to make...?

"...Do you...do you still-"

"No."

...Quackity's voice was reduced to a low growl of...of what? Of hatred? Of sorrow?

Of regret?

Whatever it was, it made his ever-so-fickle emotions sway so much that Wilbur's limbs froze in shock as Quackity stared him down.

"You've grown soft, Wilbur. Limbo romanticised ya, didn't it? That's the only explanation."

"...Explanation for what?" A testing tone, soft as the biting breeze.

"The old Wilbur would've known well that there's not an ounce o' regret left in my heart. How could I possibly still care about him? After everything that he did to me, all those horrible things he said...?"

Quackity's voice was a emotional train wreck at this point...Estera couldn't tell if he was telling the truth at all. All she could tell was that- contrary to what he told the outside world- he didn't seem like he would be okay anytime soon.

"That stupid, bull-headed ram was more concerned 'bout...'bout his politics 'n his whiskey than he ever was for me and my service. The bottle was his only real companion; all through his life, that never changed."

...His tone...

Why did Estera recognise it so intensely...?

Finally, finally, Quackity looked to the ground one last time...much too desecrated, Estera believed, to ever look up again.

"And if he wanted t' bury me with his past, fine... somethin' like that ain't worth keepin' alive, anyway."

The longest silence yet is what stretched between them. Like he had done this a million times before, Wilbur set to work on shielding Quackity's body from the outside world as much as possible, giving him room upon his shoulder to cry on. And cry he did; though Estera still could not hear the tears, he quivered and quaked in Wilbur's arms as only a bawling man can.

...Was he truly as unaffected by the man- whomever this "ram" was- as he claimed to be? Were his tears just a compilation of past sorrows and angers, all come to roost in the exact same tranquil moment? If that was it, Estera could certainly understand his fear, his confusion, his watered-down rage...almost as if it were her own.

It struck her as strange...eerily strange.

Because if this was, indeed, the root cause of Quackity's tears...was she not the only one who cried in such a way...?

Was...was this...

Even the very wind around them seemed to slow to a stop in its childish game, nervously awaiting the next bout of words. Estera could not see the look on their faces any longer, so she was left to only imagine the silent pacts and promises their eyes forged shut.

"...But all 'a that pales in th' face 'a the real problem. You know what it is, Wilbur."

"What do you mean?"

Silence. Quackity looked towards his strange comrade with a look of extreme weight; that was obvious, even with the waning of the light.

...What? The ghost's sudden whisper was one of dumbstruck terror!

Quackity gave Wilbur such a vague face, such an untraceable stare into the distance...but apparently, like always, it was one that Wilbur understood immediately.

And Estera did not need the assistance of light to comprehend his barely-contained horror.

"...Surely not. You don't think... But he's in- how could he possibly-"

"Has anythin' man-made ever stopped 'em before? Please, for your own sake, don't fool yaself again...why do you think everyone was so scared of you when you first came back?"

...Him? Them? Everyone?

Whatever did he mean?

Estera could sense the slightest bit of compassion in his voice, no matter how short-lived it was. This only made her ever-more curious; how had he fooled himself in the past...? Did that have something to do with his...death?

And why was Wilbur fidgeting with the sleeve on his sweater so?

"I'm learning there's some things you just can't escape..." Quackity sighed, by far the most melancholy sound she had heard that evening. "And if he ain't one of 'em...our lives were just a lie."

Oh, so it was a him... But who?

Something deep inside her told her that, if she could find the answer to this...well, she didn't quite...know!

But surely a quite significant event would take place. She didn't know what, and she didn't know how or why.

But it would be...something.

Something she longed for now more than ever.

"...You're right. As much as I hate to admit it, you're right."

"Why, thank you, General Narcissus."

"Oh, shut up. And do take me seriously for once," Wilbur smirked. "You have a point..." He looked up to the sky, at the very first star of the night. "It's been...gosh. Over a decade now?"

"Yeah. It has, hasn't it?"

"...But I think..."

"Hm?" Quackity turned to face Wilbur, and though his eyes still didn't stray far from the ground, starlight still came to warm his irises.

"I think this is as bad as it's going to get."

"...What do ya mean? Life sucks more than ever now. Didn't you hear anythin' I just said? I-"

"I did...I really did. And I agree with you. Gosh, sometimes it seems like the more we all fight Dream, the worse he gets."

...Dream.

Wilbur shook his head, slightly, in the way one does when they're more tired than aggravated. Stretching his arms in front of him, he turned to face Quackity, searching deep into his eyes.

"But, turns out, that's what he wants. I...I realised that rather recently. He wants us to fight, Quackity. He wants us to turn against each other; he wants us to tear our friends and family apart without even realising it. That's all he's ever wanted."

....What was this? In Quackity's willow-eyes, was that a glimmer of interest?

"Worrying about what he's going to do next is only giving him more power, Big Q. He preys on our turmoil, whether it be physical or mental or otherwise. For once, we need to have hope. Hope is the weakness of demons..." Wilbur touched his heart with the flat of his palm- two muffled taps against the cloth of his coat. "...remember?"

Quackity was silent for a long while. Even Estera couldn't think of anything to think at first. They had been so dismal before...how could this walking dead man find the strength to have hope about anything?

She was dragged out of her thoughts by the sound of Quackity readjusting in the sand, with either a grunt or a scoff puffing from his mouth.

"...Says you, Mr. 'crow-of-the-sun'."

"I'm being honest!" The hands that were so calm mere moments before were now up in fiend surrender. "I know it sounds strange. Especially...coming from me, of all people. But I guess I had a change of heart during those first few weeks back."

"Does it feel weird?"

"Does what feel weird?"

"Your heart." Something had changed in Quackity's voice; Estera could sense it more than ever now. "You were dead for so long...did it beat at all in your time away?"

...Now it was Wilbur's turn to be silent.

Watching all of this unfold, goodness...it was very much like the outdoor theatre Kinoko dragged out into the public once a year, those melodramatic tales of prosperity and happiness during the Harvest Festival in the Town Square. What made them special was that they weren't really based off of...anything. The actors made up their stories on the spot, and more often than not, they would be reflections of what was happening in their Kingdom in the present day.

Hearing them talk reminded her of those. Sporadic, sometimes confusing...but always, always true-to-life.

Right?

"...No. It didn't. I'm still getting used to the feeling."

And, in her daze, it happened.

For the first time, in what Estera suspected was a longtime...the Señor let himself smile...a genuine smile.

One that Wilbur was eager to return.

"Well, Quackity...it's beginning to get dark. I take it that woman won't take kindly to my prolonged presence? Nora; was that her name?"

It was strained, but Quackity did allow himself a small chuckle. "Nori. Trust me, ya'd be lucky t' lay eyes on her 'fore she knocked ya t' the ground."

"Okay. But before I leave..." Wilbur used his free hand to indicate behind him, towards the silent site. "How is she?"

"Who?"

"Wendy. How is she taking her new life?"

An eerie silence. Quackity sat up a bit, brushing sand off his shirt and staring a hole through the boulder.

"...Surprisingly well, actually. She smiles a lot more now. I actually heard her laughin' with th' new girl when I came back this afternoon."

"Thank the heavens...I was quite worried for her for a while there."

"Weren't we all?"

...The new girl? Estera's heart felt like it would stop.

Were they referring to the braided lady?

"...At least she's finally free to mourn in peace. That...thing isn't living in her head anymore?"

"No. She's actin' normal- well, as normal as she can be, ya know?"

"...If I may give you one more word of advice?" Wilbur stood on shaky legs, offering Quackity a callused hand.

"...Yeah?"

"Follow her example. Like I told you, eh? We might not make it out...but we can make it through." Shoving his trench coat back on, he lightly slugged Alex in the shoulder as he got up. "We all can."

Quackity's eyes fidgeted with star-beams, just as they had for a while now, but he forced a smile in spite of them.

How did he do it...?

"...I'll try, Wilbur."

"Thank you." With a two-fingered salute, the strange intruder began to turn around, facing the swiftly-fading horizon to their left.

"Te quiero, Big Q."

And as he left- whether or not for the last time- Quackity shot one last whisper of upturned lips at his back.

"Te quiero, Wilbur Soot."

...Was that it? Would that be all? How long would Quackity watch his ever-so-strange comrade march into the sunset? With a sinking heart, Estera moved to crawl away. It was a miracle Nori hadn't skinned her alive yet-

Just as she went to get up, she fell down again. A thud of sudden pain in her chest forced her to cover her mouth as she cried out.

And that was all Estera was able to comprehend...before her world began to turn white.

The wind and cold came so swiftly, so rude-tongued, that she was certain Quackity's attention had been diverted. But wait. She didn't have to worry about Quackity or Nori catching her now...did she?

Was she heading back home?

Or would she go to that...other place?

She didn't know, but she knew she would find out soon enough. And, surprisingly...her panic about that fact was dulled.

She was much too hypnotised by Quackity's last movements to be worried, or even hear the screeching spectre, ever-present in her subconscious.

In the last moments of light, she saw his hand fidget around his neck...revealing that chain around his neck.

A petal-encrusted necklace...with a rusting, bronze-set band on a silver chain.

Chapter Text

Cold.

Gosh, it was so cold, inside and out. And the pure white of her surroundings was almost penetrable...even after she knew her eyes were open.

But, alas, her mind was just as numb as her fickle pupils. For endless seconds, she could feel nothing...not even fear...

...until the light broke.

"What...the heck?"

Estera was flat on her back against a frigid, smooth surface, her eyes staring up into an abyss of white and grey, dotted here and there with a whispering, anxious pink. They were clouds, she realised. Clouds that appeared to be illuminated by infinite private suns...or was her vision just out-of-whack? She blinked a couple of times, bringing the one true sun back into focus. There. That was better, if one didn't count the bluish-green splotches along her eyes.

But as she turned her face, she had to shut her eyes again in the face of a million different shards of light...light that was reflecting through something.

...Woah.

Apparently, she had been placed at the base of a tree. An oak made entirely out of glass, to be exact, from the edges of the leaves to the water-smooth ground-roots. Out of dazed curiosity and awe, Estera shuffled to her knees, reaching out to touch the low-hanging branches...

"Ow-! W...what th..."

When she ran her index finger along a leaf's middle stem, it cut her finger, just as severely as paper would. However, while that was shocking enough, it wasn't the thing that made her stare at her blood as it ran in a thin trail down her palm...

It seemed...dark. Much, much darker than it should have been... Was it even red?

Nervously, she rolled back her sweater-sleeve to keep it from getting stained, but as she did so, her hand stopped in disbelief.

The fabric had lost its brown hue...everything was in greyscale.

Well, everything on her person, at least... Estera abandoned her bleeding finger completely, cradling it in her other hand to gawk at the rest of her (completely colour-rendered) surroundings. Now that she had sat up, she and the spectre had quite the fantastical view of this...this land.

For indeed, this could not possibly be home.

She sat just off of the edge of a pure white pathway, lined with glass oaks on either side. The largest trees were where she lay at the very beginning, and they shrunk in size as one went, to the point that the last two to line the path looked to be mere saplings. If one did not count the obvious difference in size, the trees could easily pass for twins. Creatures of the same womb, petrified into all eternity for Estera to look upon in fearful wonder.

Forcing herself onto her feet- while still clutching her dry-ish finger to her chest- she turned to her left...facing what had to be the most wind-stealing sight of her current lifetime.

A huge castle sat before her in the sky, its walls pure and opaque as clouds. (In fact, everything around them looked like it rested upon clouds...) It was made like nothing Estera had ever seen before, even in those taboo storybooks, with tens upon hundreds of gleaming towers rising far above its thick marble doors.

And this immaculate sight was just what she saw from a distance...

"What is this place?"

...This must be the Inbetween. Even the phantom seemed shocked...

"...Do you recognise it at all? All things considered, it was something that you buried that brought us to this place."

...Oh, don't you dare start that up again.

"Start what up again? I'm not-"

I'm telling you, I didn't put that watch underground! The only thing I buried was the book; I have no clue how anything else got in there!!

Somehow, Estera could sense an unusual amount of anguish in his once-dull voice as he pleaded his case. His normal dramatics weren't as intense, either; he sounded genuinely angry, for once. She had to admit it; maybe he was telling the truth...after all, just a few days ago, she never would have been able to believe that time-travelling was a true phenomenon. Besides, why would he appear so distressed, otherwise?

"...Well, if you didn't bury the watch, who did? You were the only one who knew where this thing was, right?"

The ghost was quick to harrumph in response. Obviously. Do you take me for an idiot?

Estera rolled her blackened eyes, trying to think of a sane explanation for this. She would have been quite careful herself, yes...but still...perfect safety can never be guaranteed.

"Could anyone have seen you? Anyone at all?"

Of course not! I...I don't...

"...What is it?"

His sandpaper voice quivered in the air, in the shape of a sigh.

...There might have been...someone. But they'd have to be intentionally spying to do it! 

"It really doesn't matter. Who was it?"

He paused to think for a molasses moment...before he joined in the wind's subtle whispering through the frozen trees.

...Two people could have done it, if they were truly that much of a backstabber in disguise. One of them... His voice wavered a little bit, lost in a strange train of thought. Er, their names...Sapnap. Sapnap and George. Yes, that's it.

"George...? Are you sure?"

Yes, I am! Don't blame me for my hesitation; it's been a while since I've seen them. His shouts were quick...nervously quick, and brought back down to earth with a slow sort of caution. All three of us lived together inside Kinoko for years on end. But...but surely you don't think they messed with my belongings!

"...They might have."

He paused, the air around the necklace quaking in angry anticipation. Even the invisible suns behind the pinked clouds dimmed their starlight...making this grey world seem so much darker.

...I don't believe this! Estera Catherine, they were some of the closest people I had in my life!! Goodness, you are so fickle...

...What?

"How am I fickle," she cried, with far too much emotion in her cottony voice. "What does reasoning have anything to do with fickleness?"

You can be so fearful and untrusting one moment, and the next, it's like you're all over somebody! Like how you were in Las Nevadas. Nori's the one who saved your butt from a heatstroke, but you were much less kind and open to her than you were to Wendy. And Wendy was a complete stranger! I told you to trust people more often, sure, but jeez, did you have to put us into more danger than necessary?! What in the world is wrong with you?!

...Once again, his words were spoken in a heated rush, with fiery-red syllables making ashes out of whatever calm had settled in Estera's soul...well.

That was what he truly thought of her.

While some reserved part of Estera's emotions steamed with primitive anger...the other sections mumbled with an oh-so-familiar understanding. Doubt, even.

Wendy had been a complete stranger, hadn't she? And wasn't it the same with Quackity, with Wilbur? Even Nori, though their time together was sweet?

What had made her want to be so...so close to them? Surely not love; the desire didn't seem quite so potent. It felt...numb. Like a blanket- or even an article of clothing- that has once been touched by a lover's dancing fingers. The warmth itself may have been long gone, but the memories of heat still remained...no matter how far away they seemed.

Numb. A word like cotton, a word that bit and stung if it was not plucked from the vocal chords by a trained hand.

...Had she been in the wrong...again?

She did not know.

Did she?

"But I thought... But you told me not to-"

You thought what?

"...Nothing...what's that noise?"

Indeed, this sudden change in subject wasn't...entirely an excuse to stop talking.

According to Estera's eyes, no one was here except for these two lost souls. And yet...

...were those voices in the distance?

"What in the world...?!"

Whispers, phantoms, echoing off of the sparkling marble and into her already-packed mind...what magick was this? She couldn't make out what they were saying; multiple pitches and accents blurred and blended to form the perfect mix of gobbledygook.

I- I don't know!!

But each and every tone sounded utterly panicked...

...and they were getting closer.

Breath becoming dryer by the second, Estera pushed herself up and broke into a run, her feet swiftly finding the path and flying towards the castle. She would be lying if she said she wasn't fearful of moving forward, but staying behind would mean merely sitting in her chaos! Who knew? Maybe the roar of wind in her ears would drown out the sound!

When the path drew to a close, and those odd screams finally dimmed- minutes, hours, moons later- her body was dangling tentatively on the edge of the marble, her eyes staring down into a flocculent abyss. She daren't look up, for one clumsy step would lead to her demise...but she was broken out of her trance by the whisper of the ghost.

The drawbridge, Estera.

She registered a whirring sound breaking through the white. A perfectly-cut, bright grey drawbridge began to slowly wind its way down to the puffy moat... Dare she put a foot down once it stopped?

"Are you feeling anything unusual, ghost-man?"

...Nothing yet...it's weird. Everything feels so numb! But...not in a bad way. It's a bit welcoming, actually... Only an idiot would ever say otherwise.

...And Estera had to agree. In all honesty, this place...really didn't seem that foreboding. The closer she came to the castle, the more relaxed her heart and soul felt...Peculiar, albeit loving...

"Okay, I'm moving..."

She placed a shaky foot on the drawbridge, still making sure to keep her eyes trained on her pathway.

Why are you not looking up?

"...Do you ever feel that if you look at something you're going into, it'll sear your eyes? No, I'd rather delay all that."

The ghost, unsurprisingly, scoffed. Pathetic. Oh, and by the way, he spat, do you insist on calling me by any name other than my own on this journey?

"What do you mean?"

I've told you my name, but you still choose to call me ghost-man? He sighed, obviously exasperated beyond belief. Call me something other than ghost-man or ghost-face, thank you very much.

"...Well..." Estera still felt he was overreacting, but she could see a little bit of his point. It's always nice to have a name...but the thought of constantly referring to him as "King Karl" or "Your Majesty" felt quite awkward.

"What do you want me to call you? And nothing terribly extravagant, please. No offence, but I'm certainly not going to call you 'Your Majesty' for the rest of my days."

As he pondered this with a silence that could shatter glass, the air around them went still as the leaves of the trees. Estera's footsteps were small and timid, yet she moved across the drawbridge nonetheless.

...Rasp.

"I'm sorry?"

I said Rasp, you twit... For raspberries.

"...Raspberries?"

They taste good. Hush.

...Surprisingly, his voice became soft as the cottony air...and he did not respond when Estera gave her approval.

Strange...very strange.

But she had not a second to ponder, for she had just arrived at the other end of the drawbridge. Expectation hung in the air, like an urn awaiting the ashes of men long passed.

If Estera thought that the Central Post was amazing, it was a mere speck in the river compared to the white castle.

A gigantic marble arch-door stood before her once she completely stepped off of the path, with gold-embroidered knockers on the front of each side. The edges were coated with intricate ivy and wisteria carvings. Along the left and right circular walls on either side of the door, glass willow trees sobbed their silent, reminiscent mourns.

The castle itself was unlike anything Estera could have dreamed up, with those hundreds of spires and towers looming above her mushcap, larger than life itself. What would the view be like from up there, she wondered suddenly (with a pang in her chest to accompany it)?

And yet, despite the loving care the grounds sported, there was no sign of human life beyond Estera herself. Flora flourished, and a slight breeze trickled into the tranquillity, but no one else was there to witness it...

That was when the voices came back.

Immediately, Estera's legs got ready to bolt back to the drawbridge, to run for her life without looking back. But much to her surprise, the voices sounded much less urgent...one might even call themtranquil. And she could actually make out what they were saying now; multiple voices, all in unison, of many different ages and pitches, said one simple refrain...over and over...

This is the Inbetween...

Estera stood stock-still. Even Rasp seemed to be stunned silent.

"Wh-who's there?"

This is the Inbetween...

"Who's there?!"

A world you've been to a few times now.

What? "Answer me!!"

It's time to comprehend more of what is happening to you, Estera.

Her skin prickled from beneath her long sleeve, bleeding hand all but forgotten as it dropped to the ground.

Only one thought could be found in Estera's mind.

...It knows my name?

The gate began to open...

Estera's tense muscles jumped at the burst of sound. Rasp even let out a gasp. Unlike the drawbridge, the doors creaked and cracked to no end, drowning out all but Estera's panic with its great cacophony.

Yet that wasn't even the strangest occurrence.

She knew the feelings inside of her were valid. The terror, confusion, and dull animosity drowned her like stout wine, like a salty refuge of yore...

But those feelings were not reflected by her movements.

Something unknown- yet warm- rooted inside of her gut, and made her move her feet forward. One, two, one, two, towards a once-concealed path lined with flowers of butter- daffodils?- a passage that so beckoned her...

The Inbetween acts as your gateway for travelling in time. It isn't a dimension you're familiar with...but in some senses, it's like a home away from home.

As the voices continued their newfound chant, Estera's mind fought a desperate battle, trying like nothing before to drown their eerie whispers out, thrashing about in a wild attempt to stay on the shore of consciousness. She had an idea of what all this was, yes, but Basil's enthusiasm rang like a soft bell in the back of her brain.

She had to stay strong.

She mustn't let her fear show.

She mustn't let others take control.

She mustn't...

But something very strange was beginning to occur...

Their voices slowly seeped into her mind, infiltrating the cold bits of her veins, and becoming naught but all her own... Estera, in spite of everything, found herself forgetting everything except the path ahead of her, and the monotone voices...chanting...chanting...

The key to grasping more of your time-travelling abilities lay within this gorgeous castle you will soon get to traverse.

...Were they right?

Fear not...

Was this, in some sense, her new home...?

...this is not a place to provoke harm...

Well, much to Estera's dulled internal shock, she was...alright with this possibility. Maybe Basil was right...

...but a place to feel at ease.

This strange place...wasn't so terrifying, after all...

*****

Estera travelled in her hypnotic daze for what felt like an immortal lifetime. She passed in slow slumber through countless hallways and corridors, each one being identical, yet completely different. The cool marble of the walls radiated into the space, making the only warmth of the castle the dim candlelight along the path and Estera's heat-choked long sleeve. A slew of priceless chandeliers rested above her like birds perched in eternal flight, and gave every part of the room a soft pink tint. Potted glass plants were dotted along the floor-corners every few yards, each perfectly proportioned and lovingly trimmed. Rasp made various babbling comments about that stupid "energy" radiating off of these, but Estera was much too lost in the walls to pay much heed to his cries.

Lifetimes later, there was a break in the haze. Estera's feet found moonwater-coated grass blades and a smattering of lily-bulbs...

She had made it to a courtyard.

It was a tiny expanse of land, resting below a tall square balcony. A swing set rested in the middle, a very odd sight to the numbed Estera. Unlike the prim, spotless castle, this courtyard was in its own figurative bubble, untouched by the preservation of the outside grounds. It demonstrated its ancientness when Estera sat down on one of the swings, the splintery pinewood tearing into her shorts and rust from the swing-chain staining her grey hands copper.

You don't get to choose when you time-travel or when you return, but you already know that, and that is something that will remain true.

Estera began to swing, letting the frigid air travel lightly across her skin and mushcap. Her mind was becoming more and more comfortable with its fate; she could think of only this space...that now seemed so...familiar to her...

Something that doesn't need to remain true, however, is your body's deterioration.

She halted at this, her feet abruptly scraping against the damp ground. What had the voices said-?

I know that every time you time-travel, you lose more and more understanding of who you are, and that is something that you can absolutely solve in the future.

...For some reason, Estera felt that she should have known this already. Like she had already been warned of this phenomenon...but for the life of her, she couldn't quite place her finger upon it.

However, fear certainly wasn't the emotion that filled her soul to the brim when the voices spoke. In this moment...this strange, tranquil moment, with the laughing breeze slowly trickling down her neck and cooling her every organ, with burdens light as air rolling off her back...she couldn't feel anything but contentment.

Despite her fears, she had not been hurt by the past.

Was that a...a twinge of excitement when she thought of going back?

Goodness, this emotion was no-

I can guarantee if you explore this castle enough, you will one day know what to do to stop losing yourself and have a better control over your mind.

Their tones were calming; she was a child being comforted by ghostly guardians. A child dipping their toes into a warm, paradoxical tide...one that the trialled are well acquainted with.

Good luck.

Feeling satisfied with herself, she stood up and let the moonwater latch back onto her boots. The rest of the castle beckoned to her senses... Down endless, identical hallways and stairwells she walked, with Rasp utterly frozen in voice.

When she next came to her mind, about fifteen or so minutes later, she was overlooking the entire castle grounds. The tower that she stood in was one that she had seen when she was outside looking in- the slimmest, most pink-caked one, only big enough to fit one person at a time, right in the middle of the castle. And the view was, indeed, spectacular. A greyish-pink expanse of clouds stretched its lazy way out into the horizon, like the calm water of...a stream. Yes, that was it. Birds as bright as glass would occasionally plunge through the barrier, only to plummet back down as soon as they came, their feathers glittering under the evening sun.

I will leave you with one clear objective. You do not have a choice in the matter.

Estera smiled to herself, elbows resting on the ledge of the tower. It wasn't like she wanted to stop; what was with the ominous undertones...?

You will continue to time-travel, and you will continue to regroup back here in the Inbetween... But. You must continue to write the stories along the way. The preservation is worth every second of your time. These stories are important to continue to share what the world is, and who you are.

Wait a second. Now she was being given the opportunity to let others know of what had been lost for so long? The deal was...sweetening inside Estera's head...! She felt a strange twinge in her gut at the prospect, but no matter. It had to be from excitement, not fear.

No. Not in the slightest.

More important than each story individually is the library itself. Next time you're back to your library, you need to move it. Find a peaceful land to start afresh. Try to get everyone to join you that will...

Oh, alright. That was no issue- she was skilled at sneaking around, after all. She could certainly find a place to store her tales of the past!

But...

Estera's breath began to slow as the numb spread to every part of her body. She was forced to sit down hard on the marble floor, the view of the clouds now replaced by pink-tinted quartz.

Don't let anyone know about where these stories really come from...

Don't let anyone know about what the Inbetween is...

And don't let any harm come upon your library...

Her eyes closed soft as a butterfly, white filling every nook and cranny of her consciousness.

'Till next time.

Everything faded out, but this time...

Enjoy yourself.

Estera's fear...appeared to be gone.

I hope to see you back here again soon.

————————————————————

*This is where the action leads into the next..."act", per se. If you need sleep/food/water/tissues, taking a rest stop here is highly recommended!!* 

Chapter Text

Waves lapped high above her...but somehow, Estera was breathing.

...Was this what it felt like to swim?

An underwater, turquoise-navy abyss was all she could see when Estera opened her eyes, wavering with the bubbles of her deep breaths. Yet air pockets were not shallow; indeed, her tranquil lungs let breathing come easy. Should she be scared? Alas, she did not know...

Nor did she...care...

As her limbs relaxed under the caress of the watery hands, she found herself floating to the surface of this strange sea. Sunlight now dappled the blank canvas of the waves, creating what was surely a pretty design up above...but seared Estera's eyes down below. All at once, it was like someone had tossed a pile of sand into her bleary irises, making it very painful to see beyond her agony.

Yet as she drew ever closer, the clearer things became in the recesses of her mind...

And the more water began to fill her lungs.

Soon she was left gasping for air, barely able to move her mouth and windpipes.

The more her mind awoke, the more panicked she became, and the more her heart sputtered, and-

"Estera!!"

An invisible hand grasped through the waves, holding onto her sodden clothes for sheer life, pulling her to the threshold of light...and Estera finally awoke.

To say she was consumed by a daze would be a sorry understatement. She was hardly even able to think about what just happened, or if she had really been underwater. Her mind felt as if it were stuffed with linen, and her eyes had yet to recover from...from the Inbetween's lantern. In fact, it felt as if the soft cotton of her brain was the only thing keeping her from passing out once more.

Instead of water, her chocolate eyes looked up at a...vaguely familiar ceiling, one made of butter-slick cobblestone. The smell of dust and ink flooded her nose once she dared to breathe again, tickling at the neurone of her drugged brain...and oh, that sunlight...

Where was she?

"Estera! Oh, Estie, you're awake!!" The shrill sound of a boy- an adult boy- shot through the air with burning splendour. Some part of Estera's mind snapped into place, and she prepared herself for an attack that would never come. Indeed, the anguished cry came from someone that sat right by her beside, just out of sight until he leaned over the goose down mattress. He, too, seemed quite close to her mind: his mushcap was dotted in a vibrant black-and-white, and his clothes were in dire need of a wash.

...But who was he...?

Hold on.

Oh my goodness.

How had she...how could this possibly...??

"Basil?"

Her long-lost brother, upon hearing his name, exhaled a sigh of pure relief. "Oh, thank th' heavens ya're alive! How are ya? Do ya feel-"

"Basil, I'm fine. I'm..." As Estera rasped out her words, she pulled back the paisley sheets and brought her hands to her sides, in an attempt to hoist herself upwards. But as she did, she observed a grey streak somewhere in her peripheral...

By the flag, my hands are grey.

The two noticed at the same time, unfortunately, and both let out a gasp of soft disbelief. She couldn't move her eyes away from the quivering fingers, the deep, sooty lines of her once-alabaster palms.

...How could this possibly be? Why had it taken so long for her to recover her memory of home? Why did the past- the Inbetween- turn one's hands to such a dull tone?

...And why did her heart long to go back?

Even now, as her mind screamed to recover the sense it had just days before, its cries became ever-more fiery against the pounding of the waves.

Though she had no way of knowing the extremity of what Basil had gone through, hadn't she wanted to avoid it? Hadn't this been what she was so afraid of when she let herself be taken over by the pact of siblinghood?

Hadn't she longed to stay out of danger, above all things mortal and marvellous?

He said he would protect her...well, she should have known better, what with the forces they were intertwined with and all.

But sure as the water-logged heart pounding in her chest, she knew there was no homecoming to innocence now...no?

*****

"So...you've been going, too...haven't ya?"

"...What happened while I was gone? Can you tell me?"

In their automated act of love, Estera reached for Basil's hands to try and calm his quivering eyes. However, she only made it as far as his fingertips before freezing her muscles in place, coming to her senses, and pulling back to grip the sheets.

Who knew what would happen if they made contact now?

Her brother cleared his throat, looking to the stone wall behind her with those riverbed eyes. "Ya passed out, out there on th' Ruins. Of course, I had to go and get ya- I had no idea what was wrong with ya, and the police would be arrivin' any minute! Thankfully, I got ya- and everything ya found- home without anyone noticin'. The book 'n the watch's still in my satchel; I haven't had the time to look in it."

Absentmindedly, Estera pushed herself all the way upwards, looking to that forsaken hook where the satchel surely hung. But alas, it could not be found at its perch; it had been flung onto the floor next to his desk...goodness, he had been in a hurry.

"I could tell that ya were still alive, but I still didn't know what had happened. And there was no way I'd turn ya over to a doctor's care..."

Basil- and Estera, slightly- felt themselves shudder at the thought. If any medical professional found out that Estera had been rendered unconscious under Basil's secretive care...well, the Post would latch onto that like white on rice.

"I hit the notes, and used my knowledge on herbs and things to treat ya. And ya got better; your breathing was much more even after six hours or so...but ya still didn't wake up. It was like you were in...not a coma, but...just a really deep sleep."

He glanced her over, like she was the stuff of clockwork instead of his sister beloved.

"It was like you were hypnotised."

Their eyes locked for but a moment, but that was the time Estera's little mind's eye saw something. Were Basil's eyes...tinted grey?

No, surely not. Right? Just her nervousness shoving its way into her imagination.

"The next morning- well, really, it was this morning- you were still asleep, but your hands...t-they were...and ya sweater..."

This time, Basil had to intertwine fingers with his sister of springs and gears to keep himself from flying apart. That became a risk more and more as of late...and a worry she had never felt from Basil before now coated the air in thick, riveting waves.

"What happened to ya, Estie?"

...Again, the paradox returned to case her brain...

...and again, sibling-hood yearned to win out.

Before the events of the past three days, Estera and Basil were hardly ever able to see each other. Even in their aforesaid forest rendezvous, visits scarcely climbed over a quarter-hour's time, and they could go for weeks without being able to break away again. Because of this, Estera's way of thinking stayed strong and steady, unchanged by the passage of the moons.

But now...the more time she spent in Basil's upside-down world, the easier it was to ignore her silent urges. Was this a good or bad thing? She hadn't a clue...

Her softness truly amazed her. After all this time of thinking she was so firm...

But she couldn't speak, not just yet. And it wasn't because she didn't care to- no, it was quite the contrary.

The pact of the Inbetween. Those three rules that one was to break never, keep forever:

Don't let anyone know about where these stories really come from...don't let anyone know about what the Inbetween is...and don't let any harm come upon your library...

Anyone.

That was the only thing that kept her from telling him everything, literally everything. After all, it was like Rasp had said so many times before...why would someone lead you to harm when they are, indeed, an inexcusable part of your person?

When easy quiet had been all but spent between them, Basil eased himself off of the bed, letting his mud-caked boots hit the floor with a resonating cu-clunk. He stared at his desk (which had yet to be cleaned up from their first meeting), the afternoon sun out his window...anything other than her.

From the look in his eyes, he had come to the same conclusion as she...

"...Ya really...ya did go there, after all." His shoulders fell dramatically, and he let out a sigh of anguish. "I'm so sorry, Estera."

"...No, what? I'm the one who's-"

"Sorry for what?"

He faced her with pinched eyes, trying his hardest to hold in tears. "For trying to protect yaself? You were right all along, Estera. Nothing of mine should be worth putting yaself in harm's way, absolutely nothing!"

"Basil, wait-"

"I should have seen how stupid I was! How foolish it was to tell ya! I should have...I should..."

His head fell, and an idle hand tore at the back of his scalp below his mushcap. And...if Estera hadn't known better, she would have sworn that his tears were tinted with shadow as they left the refuge of his eyes.

"I should've listened to the warnings."

Estera could only imagine the depth of what he cried for...for her, for himself and his own woes (for indeed, what she saw was tame compared to his traverse), for the world...

...whatever it was, it unearthed a silent waterfall.

Though she really should have expected it, his obvious regret disturbed her to the core. He felt as guilty as she did fearful?

"...Basil." Estera was hesitant to come close to him when they had both...well, they were warned otherwise. But surely she could use general words to make him see sense...surely.

"Look, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't quite upset. But this was completely out of your control. How were you supposed to know that Rasp's instructions would lead us-"

How many times do I have to tell you-!

"I never said it was purposeful, you numbskull!"

"...What?"

Estera looked up from that blasted necklace, only to be greeted by a tearful, very confused Basil. "I'm a numbskull?"

"No, no, you're not a numbskull at all! You're far from it. I was talking to- I mean- well, he told me to call him Rasp. The stranger, I mean. Wait, no, tha-"

"It's okay, it's okay! Don't get yaself into a frenzy...I'm okay."

Estera could see the slightest of smirks on his face, crinkling the lines of dried tears.

"I...I just meant...I'm sorry."

Oh, jeez.

For some unknown reason, in a strange twist of fate...Estera actually found herself chuckle. It wasn't a very mood-busting sound- nay, it reminded her of Quackity's forlorn expression of insanity- but it was something.

Or, at the very least, the start of something.

"Well..." Basil sighed out one last bit of calm before solemnity took over once more, "what do we do now? It's early afternoon; we have a...little time before ya need to head home."

Estera moved her mouth to speak, but closed it just as quickly. A realisation came to her head, so fast she barely had the time to cover her mouth with those...horrid hands.

"Basil, tell me Mother and Father don't know I'm gone."

For a moment, Basil's eyes went wide as saucers, and Estera honestly feared for her life.

"...Basil?"

"...I...o-oh!" He sighed, dialysis fading from his tired eyes. "Don't worry. We're just fine. I don't know why, but last night, everyone who works on Central Post got called in. Must have been for some emergency meeting or other, 'cause I even saw the Princess walkin' around at one point. The King...well, he gave her some pretty blunt orders, apparently. They were there all night, and were called back into duty this morning. They've gotta be dog-tired by now..."

She bit her lip a tad, but other than that, Estera found little sympathy stored inside her heart. And not just because of her parents' unfortunate position; after what they had both experienced, she couldn't help but feel a little resentful towards their secrecy.

And why wouldn't she? After all, one was led to wonder...

What else were they hiding?

"Alright. So, like I said, we have some time...what would you like to do?"

Estera let the pools of her mind fester with thought, her eyes traversing this small place. She found it strange that everything still felt...distant. Hypnotic, even. Enthralling, yet not quite euphoric. How could she describe the way the home-bound sun twirled and darted about the air, dust particles their surprisingly-graceful partners?

It all looked so grey to her now...was it a good thing that the feeling was beginning to fade?

"...I'm not sure. Should we...?" She thought of asking him about their original deal- if you'll recall, dear reader, Basil's initial plan was for her to help him write down his tales- but she doubted either of them were in the headspace to do so. (And after what the Inbetween had warned, she wasn't even sure if they were allowed to collaborate...)

"Er, is there anything you needed to show me?"

"No, I...I don't believe-"

There was a quiet, sharp thunk upon the outside door, so soft it hardly found the strength to work its way upstairs. Estera even had the gall to think she had imagined it, before she saw the wideness in Basil's mushcap-shadowed eyes.

"...Maybe we could talk some other time?"

Chapter Text

...Well, then.

And just like that, Estera was escorted out of her brother's home.

It was less of an escort and more of a frantic toss-out, truth be told. Upon hearing the knock resound about the house a second time, Basil went on high alert. Within mere minutes, Estera was given a final reassurance of safety, a brotherly kiss to the forehead, and shuffled out the main floor's back door...

 ...Well, that was abrupt. 

Estera could hardly fathom what had just happened. She didn't know whether she was saddened or furious. Had he...ever shooed her company away before? Surely not...he was always one to put her first, in situations both great and small.

Who was the stranger that drove Basil to this inexplicable state? Estera found herself moving towards the door's window to discover just that, peeking through the slivers of light that still remained in view.

Basil had just closed the front door behind him, speaking to an average-sized man as he shed his coat for Basil to hang. He turned around slowly, giving Estera ample time to take in his frame...

...and ample time to keep from gasping aloud.

It was a Post worker...a retired one, but still a worker nonetheless. It was how he came to retire that made his name- one "Akiran Siderman-" go down in their twisted-about history.

And, alas, whether told by adult or child, no taboo or law could ever douse out the fire of his story.

Cautionary tales have a way of doing that, Estera thought solemnly.

According to Kingdom gossip, Mr. Siderman became one of the apprentice physicians in the Post sometime during the end of Prince Michiko's rule. As the Prince neared death, there was no heir to the throne, and advanced age rendered him far too crippled and bitter to happily support a spouse. The entire Post met on this matter through a series of extensive, late-night meetings- ones so heavily guarded that no one truly knew the details of what they discussed. Mr. Siderman was hardly more than 18 back then, but had been able to enter the apprenticeship through one of the main on-Post physicians- his mother.

As time went on, he proved himself to be quite the intellect...and quite the care-giver. It was said that when the Prince drew his final breaths, they expected him to be in much more pain than they could bear...but, thank all the luck in the world, this was not so. It was Mr. Siderman that eased his passage into stillness, and he that oversaw his cremation. The people respected him greatly for this, and his miracle-like reputation climbed higher and higher in shorter and shorter amounts of time...but his future confessions burned what was left of his illustrious career.

He claimed that it was just a horrid accident, some freak occurrence that was not reflective of his common sense. But three months after the Prince's passing, it had been found that when Mr. Siderman took a sample of the Prince's blood, he accidentally contracted his disease himself. Yes, the dosage he received wasn't nearly as strong as Prince Michiko's...but the complications from it were enough to render his hands utterly useless. How he had managed to disguise it for so long, Estera hadn't a clue, but it was a tragedy that forced him to resign as an apprentice- and crushed what had once promised to be a wonderful future.

However, because his high-esteemed mother could not bear to see her son lose his dream and his livelihood, Mr. Siderman was allowed to stay on-Post, as an unofficial advisor of sorts. But introvertism took him over from that day forward; he was famous all throughout Kinoko for his hatred of the public eye.

So why in the world was he here today?

What could Basil hold that was so important to his well-being?

Countless moons had passed since those days, and no one really knew much of his personal life, or how he had held up against the raging tide. But as Estera looked him over from behind the curtain, she saw telltale signs of a man grown hard and bitter. His hair- well, what was left of it- was pure white, combed back with purposeful strokes. He wore surprisingly simple clothes, for one under the constant care of the Post: nothing more than a white collared short sleeve and dark brown trousers. His mushcap had been removed- a crinkled, hole-ridden Honey Child's- and Basil held it in front of him with callused hands. He was strong, even a tad stocky, though his fair height and complexion did well for his physique. It was obvious that he had not let old age take hold of his body any more than it had a right to; even now, fresh garden-dirt kissed his boots with a deep passion.

But oh, his eyes... With a pang, they reminded Estera of Nori's: hard and glossy as twin emeralds, even in the shadow of Basil's cabinets and closed curtain. The lines of his face were like well-beaten trails; they were paths that down-turned mouths had carved for sadness to tread upon for all eternity.

His gaze practically pierced through the west-facing wall of her brother's home, injecting the air with suspense...no matter how Basil smiled as they spoke.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what things he thought now.

Estera could hear nary a whisper, hardly a snippet of their private conversation. She should have expected as much- knowing Basil, he had probably soundproofed the walls with that buttery-slick stuff- but it still made her blood simmer in an odd type of anger. Anger tinged with unparalleled curiosity.

...What in the world were they doing? Why did Basil require the assistance of such a shunned man?

And why was she not allowed to be a part of these plans?

She felt her hand move towards the door-latch; she was going to make herself known once and for all-

But wait.

Wait.

...What was she doing? What had gotten into her? Estera's gaze couldn't rip away from her own hand; she watched it as it shook mid-air.

She hadn't ever been one to interfere with Basil's plans...had she? Why was she even angry?

...She did not know. Not anymore. In fact, shame soon replaced the anger- what would she have done had she not caught herself...?

This was not like her.

Breathe in...breathe out. Rationality, remember?

And right now...it told her it was best to leave.

It was probably for the best. She knew that if she stuck around for much longer, the likelihood of discovery only increased. Besides, it wasn't like she would be able to uncover much, anyway...

She'd get her brother back soon.

Softly- so soft it was like she never even came- Estera entered the rice paddies all on her own, making the silent trek back to home.

*****

There was no sign of Estera's mother and father (thank goodness) as she shut the splintery door behind her, and stepped cautiously into the depths of the Bareroot abode. She was glad that her parents had not yet arrived; maybe she could get away with opening up her bedroom window for a while. Mother and Father normally kept them closed during the summer to keep unnecessary heat out of the house, but surely they wouldn't notice if a singular one shone upon the darkness.

She didn't dare let light onto the house's lower levels, though. Yes, they were far, far away at the moment, and most likely wouldn't be back for several hours...

...but it felt as if their eyes were everywhere.

Toxic coral, rooted along the poison shore.

So...what are you going to do now?

"...Hm." Estera's fingers graced over the stair bannister on the left side of the room, small yet sturdily built, and shiny with frequent human contact. Her hand fiddled with the ball decoration at the very beginning of the bannister, mind falling into a trance of thought.

She knew what she must do...oh, but how to do it? She had hoped to the heavens that Basil would be by her side through it all. The only reason she did not fight harder against their separation was because of...well, she didn't quite know, actually...

Oh...

Steeling her nerves one last time, Estera made her way upstairs...and immediately collapsed on the bed.

Wha- what are you doing? Come on; we don't have any time to waste!

Estera groaned into her pillow, having just now realised how bloody tired she had become...but she couldn't fall asleep just yet. "I know...I know. I just needed a moment to organise my thoughts."

Moment over! Can we please-

Oh, Estera's head could not handle this kerfuffle right now. Though her head still quivered from Rasp's harsh words in the Inbetween, she still found it easy to unclamp the necklace and drop it onto the cornflower sheets.

Somehow, staring up into the ceiling did wonders for her scattered mind...and she was finally able to focus on her mission.

Writing down what she had seen, and finding people to join her in her pursuit. The latter would be extremely difficult, she knew; who would possibly-

"...Hold on."

A thought occurred to her, and she could see Rasp's gem lighting up like crazy in the corner of her eye.

Basil had been in such a frenzy to get her out of the house, though they so obviously knew each other's predicaments to the letter. And the person he was meeting with was someone with high reach in the Kingdom...someone whose remorse and sorrow could be seen from miles away.

Goodness...was Basil already recruiting?

This had to be the answer. But if he was, then why would he not include her in his brigade? Well...yes, she most likely wouldn't be able to watch him write, and they probably wouldn't be able to discuss each other's ventures, but what was wrong with silent support where it was needed? Surely she could support him from a distance? Surely just being among his ranks would not be an issue to the Inbetween...would it?

Caution was necessary in an operation like this, but Estera doubted that it needed to be taken to this level. They...they were siblings, for crying out loud.

Why did Basil feel the need to be so chary...?

Why would he not let her into their conjoined world?

Her brain growing more and more restless with each fleeting thought, Estera sat up, cool air drying the sweat on her tank top. Her eyes grazed the crinkled sheets, subconsciously tracing the place where her bag of metal and dreams slept.

...Well, she supposed that with or without Basil, she had a job to do. For once in her life, she knew it would be wicked lonely without her brother by her side...but she couldn't deny what was meant to be.

Not anymore.

Where to start in her thoughts? Estera pushed her bleary legs to the floor, taking great care in order to not buckle her knees. Pacing was what always helped her think...

Well, first of all, who in the world was Quackity? And why did he have such a close relationship with Wilbur, who had came to be known as the bleeding-mouth soldier? Estera speculated a bit on the makings of their camaraderie. As far as she knew, strong bonds were mainly formed through some variation of hardship...just like she and Basil. Maybe they had fought alongside each other during the fall of Manburg?

Yes, that was a most likely possibility. Estera couldn't see a knot like that untying easily with time. And from the way Wilbur and Quackity spoke, they had not been together for a long while...13-and-a-half moons, to be exact. Or years. Yes, that was what they used to be referred to as in the past, right? Gosh, that was taking some getting used to.

Which brought her to her next daunting question...had Wilbur (somehow) risen from the dead? How, if such a thing was even doable?

For that she had no answer. Only Basil's past recollection of Wilbur's demise... not to mention the ashy remnants of his wings, and those haunted half-eyes... But even this in and of itself gave her very little explanation.

Indeed, it gave her more nightmares than explanations.

Her thoughts wandered to what they spoke of next...namely, that "bull-headed ram." Though Quackity claimed to spit on the ground he walked upon, his sadness (or regret, or frustration, or whatever it was) shone like the constant tears in his eyes when he told his tale. Both Wilbur and he knew about him quite well; what significance did he hold in their pasts?

Her mind moved ever swifter, so fast she could hardly keep up with her own speculations. There were endless little plot holes, things that had yet to be resolved...but Estera found herself growing impatient for the answer to.

That braided lady...who in the world was she? And why did the two comrades speak of her in such a worrisome tone? Hadn't they talked about something...living inside her?

And what of that...that other thing? The "dream"? That vague viral statement that infected all of their minds, the thing that nothing man-made had ever successfully contained? Whatever it was, it had to be significant...for even Wilbur admitted to being unable to truly defeat it.

Estera doubted that he was the type of calibre person to back down from a challenge without some kind of honest effort...and if those Kinoko cautionary tales told her anything, it was that he was a figure to be feared, and feared stiff of.

She never thought she would see the day when they truly rocked her to her core...

With a sigh of frustration, Estera let her upper body fall back upon the end of her mattress. Judging from the waning sunlight that so caressed her ceiling, afternoon had faded into evening quite recently...goodness, had she been lost in thought for that long?

Very little fruit could be harvested from her conclusions. With a slow, massaging hand to her temple, she tried her absolute hardest to ignore the flashing of her necklace and get the darned facts straight.

Wilbur was, indeed, the soldier that haunted the Kingdom children's nightmares: a strange bird-human hybrid with a traumatic past and a theatrical state of mind. However, when pushed the wrong way, he was quick to either go on the defence or shut up entirely, indicating that some shell of a soul still made residence underneath his chest. But that soul was also clouded in secrecy. The mystery of his father-induced death, and those hands that told a story all on their own (even if it was just the twitch of a sleeve-hem)...they covered him with an aura of bittersweet...what?

And Quackity...oh, Quackity. A man with a once-twisted point of view on the world, just trying to make his way without being shackled by his past in the process. Regret and anger and despair and who-knew-what-else lived in a sheen atop his eyes...a sheen that never did go away in its entirety. But one had to give him credit; it wasn't like he was trying to wallow in self-pity and let himself be drowned by the past. In fact, his every breath looked to be spent in an attempt to do just the opposite, even in the company of his closest allies.

Even with how horrible he felt.

The two had become friends, adjacent shoulders to cry on...but how? Was it really something like Manburg? Had they always been this way? Or had they, like Nori, experienced some unimaginable heartache in order to reach their level of camaraderie?

Estera feared that the latter would ring true in the end. Was it the pessimist in her...or a sixth sense of kinds?

She would only find out if she went back, right?

...Well, she felt prepared to do so, once the time arose. Where would it lead her? She did not know.

But harm couldn't be the destination.

Never.

Clasping her necklace back on (and promptly being met with a very jolted Rasp), Estera slogged herself over to her dusty old bookshelf. Ever since all those faerie-tale books had been removed, it was mainly a place to store old school papers. Final reports, school exams, notebook parchment, and the like had all lain snug and dormant for moons upon moons... It was in such a surprisingly disoriented state, in fact, that it took Estera quite a while to lay her hands on what she had been looking for.

It was an old memo book- a gift, courtesy of the Post when she was but a mere babe. According to her knowledge, they had wanted to create a "bond" between the Post's employees and their children, considering that their duties kept them from home for rather insane amounts of time. And their...genius plan of execution was to give them "souvenirs" from the Post's main office, to prove that they weren't trying to tear their relationship apart...to set their purpose into stone.

Although, Estera had to admit, the memo book was pretty. Illustrious, even, with a design of moons surrounding a precious lavender sun. But it had gone into her horrid pile in spite of its attempts to woo her over in sweetness; even back then, she had a brain on her shoulders.

Somewhat.

And so it sat...collecting dust after all of this time, waiting for the day her parents would get around to "sorting through the chaos..." Until today, as she lay it down upon her floor.

All Estera could say? Thank goodness her parents weren't home to see her writing this. But she had to make haste; they would surely arrive soon...

"Alright."

The Tale of Stars and Sand...

"...Let's begin."

A Truthful Recollection.

Chapter Text

Estera, unlike her brother, was never quite skilled when it came to the art of the pen.

Obviously, this was nothing short of a curse in her younger moons, especially when she was expected to scrape together something for essays in school. (Strange- it was one of the only things about school she hated.) It was a bloody unbreakable curse, though; frustration always took her over each time she even attempted to write.

Imagine her shock, then, when "The Tale of Stars and Sand" took less than two hours to finalise!

She had begun when the sun shone mere feet away from the boundary walls, and finished it just as a pastel purple left soft bruises upon the vacant sky. And just in time, too. It was the most inconspicuous of sounds, yet a scratching motion on the front door let her know that her parents had just arrived.

And she was practically a sitting duck.

Quickly, and with a slamming heart, Estera set to disguising her deeds. First, she put the logbook back where it belonged on her shelf, leaving it ever-so-slightly jutted out so she would be able to find it again with ease. While she was up, she pulled the curtains back over her now-closed window with the sha-snap of metal against metal. She wiped the ink off her leaky pen with her fingers to the best of her ability (there was no cloth handy, and it could be washed off...somewhat easily). Then, holding the pen between her cleanest fingers, she laid it in the corner of her desk.

But as she pushed in her chair and her skin began to relax, she remembered one tiny technicality.

Oh, no; her clothes!

Her parents had just opened the door; she didn't have much time to change her who-knew-how-old outfit! After pulling that almost-forgotten paper out of her back pocket and tossing it onto her desk, she grabbed the first thing she could find in her closet- a short sleeve and a very long skirt (oh, great)- and darted into the bathroom across the hall without looking back.

"Estera Catherine? Are you up there?"

"Yes. Yes, ma'am!"

"Well, you had better hurry it up in there. You knew that we were coming home!"

Estera made sure to toss her shorts and sweater fully into the laundry basket- nothing hanging out; that would be far too obvious- and scrub the still-damp ink off of her hands as much as possible. Her mother didn't sound particularly angry; at least that was one good sign.

"I'm out, ma-"

"Come down here."

Her tone was...nonchalant. Scarily nonchalant. Honestly, Estera would have welcomed her scream faster than this.

She tossed the tank top far underneath her bed, and then scurried down the stairs with the ease of a jittery squirrel. "...Yes, ma'am?"

Her mother faced the kitchen countertop, and did not turn around to acknowledge her presence. The drowning feeling in Estera's heart wouldn't even begin to let her face her father, who still stood idly in the doorway...

She had an idea as to what she'd say.

"...Have you eaten anything these past couple of days?"

"Yes, ma'am. Yes," she lied, hoping a growling stomach would not betray her when she so needed it most.

"Then explain to me..." Mother turned around, slowly, yet abruptly enough to give Estera whiplash. "...why no new dishes have been added to the queue. And not only have no new dishes been added to the queue, but the original dishes still have yet to be washed. Tell me, Estera, if you've truly been eating- better yet, actually, eating here- where are the dishes to prove it?"

...Yup.

It struck Estera as amazing, how late basic things such as sleep and sustenance would register in her haggard brain. When was the last time she drank; was it the few swings of the canteen back in Las Nevadas? If Mother knew of this, she would hold it over her head every way the sun turned...but, thankfully, she didn't. This time around, it was a perfectly normal thing for any parent to be upset about...but not to what Estera feared Mother's level of "normal" would be.

And now the girl was left with dreaming up an excuse...

Okay, think. Estera tried to push back the fog of fear and writing and think up an excuse. Did they have anything pre-packaged, anything that didn't require dishes...?

Wait! Yes; indeed, they did. Father had brought home a great deal of sandwiches about a week ago- a gift from one of his coworkers. They had napkins, and if she held them in just a way, Estera wouldn't require a plate to eat them. It took all her willpower to keep from falling flat in relief.

"I didn't need dishes, ma'am. I ate one of the sandwiches Father brought home for lunch."

"...Well, what about breakfast? Surely you ate something then."

"...Blackberries. Some of the ones we have in the fridge, ma'am."

There was silence for a time...until Mother sighed.

Something in her eyes told Estera she was not convinced. But she held her tongue, especially after telling Estera to open the cabinet which contained the sandwiches, to find one of them gone, indeed. (She had eaten one of them a few days ago, unbeknownst to her parents. That was back when the dishes wouldn't have blatantly given away her crimes.) Even when she bent down to check the floor for crumbs of food, she found nothing worth fussing about; it seemed that Estera had done a decent job of pre-cleaning, back when Basil had been here.

Finally, Mother looked at the dishes left undone, then at Estera's rock-solid hand, then back at the dishes again. Father stood stiff as a board by the door.

"...Finish the job. And you had better do it right. Neither of us have the energy to micromanage you."

Mother stormed up the stairwell without so much as a glare thrown to the ground, muttering things about "it being easier without you involved" and "you're always nothing but a problem." In doing so, she left her daughter and husband alone to face the misery...

"...Estera?"

"Hm- yes, sir?"

It had been a while since she last heard Father speak at all, and the sound of his gentle-giant voice caught Estera quite off-guard. His own gaze travelled to the echo of Mother's heavy steps, an almost...wistful look behind his eyes.

No, no...wistful wasn't the term.

Remorseful?

"She's trying her best, Estera... And we all need to make an effort to do the same."

...Well, wasn't that just like Father. To toe the line. To take some of the burden off the backs of those around him, place it upon his own, and smile with all he had...

Reserved, but not submissive, right?

Gosh, what could she say to that face?

"Yes, sir. I will...I..sir."

She had no room to say more, for he had left. He followed the path of his wife, without so much as looking back.

Estera couldn't help it; she crumpled onto the kitchen floor right as her words died down. She didn't quite feel like crying, though...buildup still had to happen before she drowned again, she supposed with a quiet scoff.

Their words had rendered her numb, especially Father's short refrain. The same old paradox of emotions made her want to sleep and scream, all at the same time.

Why did they always assume she wasn't trying to avoid their anger? Yes, she hadn't even been home to do something as simple as the dishes, and yes, that had been of her own accord...but she certainly hadn't intended to be gone for that bloody long. And she hadn't intended to get so lost in her story of...hypnosis that the dishes were left undone.

A petty excuse under normal circumstances, sure, but...oh, surely not now, right?

Every time she made a mistake or defended her opinion, all Mother ever took it as was willful disobedience. Nothing she did- nothing she could do- ever convinced her otherwise.

And it seemed like the more Estera grew into a young woman, the more Mother despised her, and the more sorrow Father's eyes carried to the ashchamber.

...What more was there left to do?

*****

Monotonous days passed, which blurred into decently monotonous weeks. The sun rose and set over the same Kinoko each morning and twilight, though it might as well have been some ancient neck of...of the Bruadar to Estera's befuddled brain now.

Through it all, though she hated to admit it, Rasp was her one constant. He had hardly been able to fill the void left behind by each and every passing day...but at least he hadn't left her side. Passive-aggressive comments and lingering anger aside, he obviously meant to keep her from hurting on this journey. Whether that was for his own gain or because he genuinely cared for her safety, she did not know, but at least she could rest knowing he would not lead her to intentional harm.

As the days went by, in fact, Rasp proved his devotion more and more. You see, the two of them had become quite acquainted with the "stomping grounds" of her brother and Mr. Siderman. The two would meet every day- sometimes even twicea day- in any place deemed inconspicuous by their eye. Basil's living room, the secret tower (but only when the rice paddies were left unbothered), even Basil's rooftop one dull evening...anywhere that passed the secrecy test. (When Estera had happened by this sight, she didn't know what to consider more mind-boggling: how well-concealed they were from sitting in the perfect position that hid them from anyone not specifically looking, or the fact that Mr. Siderman was even able to get up there in the first place.)

Anyhow, Rasp somehow seemed to sense when they were talking about a dire topic. That "energy" of his was her take-action signal, and it was what determined if she eavesdropped or not. After all, she may have been pushed to the sidelines, but she still deserved to keep him safe when she could.

Most of the time, she could only hear vague snippets of conversation, but it was enough to piece together what she so feared would be true: they were, indeed, trying to write their own tales. Of course, Basil didn't tell him the real reason behind his desire; only that he "wished to show the Kingdom what they lacked." Mr. Siderman, in a bittersweet turn of events, jumped at the opportunity to spite the people who wronged him so...and from the beginning, Estera knew they would be an inseparable team.

How, then, could she go about adding herself to their story? And without making her parents- or the Kingdom, for that matter- suspicious?

How could she balance along the edge?

About a fortnight later, she was able to unwrap a potential solution to part of her predicament. It was a damp, cloud-dotted morning, when the sun created a seam-like pattern against the blanket of clouds, somehow making the sunrise more blinding than it would have been in bald daylight. The night that held dominion not long before spoke of a silent downpour, with tell-tale trails of water speeding along the dirt and cobblestone of Kinoko's roads. Estera had to bundle up considerably (and, of course, make sure the house was in order) before venturing out-of-doors. Her outfit consisted of the warmest sweater she could find, loose-fitting and tinted in a rather lovely lavender hue, along with dark maroon pants and her standard boots. Strange how it had gotten so cold so soon into the summer, but the Kingdom had always been a bit prone to irregular weather patterns, and the rain certainly wasn't helping matters. She just hoped the moonwater hadn't frosted over Basil's herb fields...that hardly ever happened, but still.

Speaking of Basil, her heart jumped down to her stomach when she heard voices near his home...their voices.

Would she finally be able to catch the details of their plan?

Go on, you twit; get over there!

In a flash, Estera wide-stepped over to Basil's curtained door-window, removing her mushcap and gearing her muscles to run if need be...oh, goodness, this moment had come at last!

"...you could call upon my counsel. Your course of action is an ingenious one, sir, and I am more than honoured to call myself a part of it. Even if I had to wrangle myself away from the Post to do it, it's not like I am unfamiliar with such a task. It presents me with a golden chance to execute my vengeance, and while I intend to do it with the soundest of minds, I cannot deny the joy it will bring my heart."

...Wow.

Basil's laugh probably sounded likeable enough to Mr. Siderman, but Estera could tell that it was positively dripping with anxiety...oh, did he know what he was getting himself into?

"Now, remember, the presentation isn't goin' t' happen for a long while. Tale-writin' and documentin' isn't a quick process, ya know."

"Oh, I know, sir. I do not intend to rush you with my statement; please don't take that the wrong way!"

"No, n-no, I didn't! Trust me."

"...Alright. And just so I have your plan quite clear- er, do you mind if I say it out loud again?"

"Go right ahead. I gave ya a lot t' think about yesterday evening."

"Oh, thank you." Mr. Siderman let out a breathy laugh; his shyness around Basil truly did surprise Estera...

"So, to make it entirely clear, what you're essentially doing is...writing down tales from how you imagined the past to be?" He lowered his voice to an excruciatingly hard-to-hear whisper now, as if he feared the walls had ears. (Not an unreasonable fear, of course...) "And you're receiving your evidence from things that you find in your own world, and in the lives of others in Kinoko? Which, I must say, what you saw in those cautionary tales was quite commendable, quite."

"Oh-! Thank you...thank you, Mr. Siderman."

"Please, call me Akiran. You deserve the informality, after all that you've done for me. And all that you will do, of course."

"...Hm? O-oh, yes, of course."

...Their tones were both heavy, drawn-out words speaking of nothing but the deepest love.

Estera found the feeling to be quite bittersweet. She knew she should be glad they had the relationship they did; however, she found it a right shock that she wasn't the only one to hear of his cautionary tale theory...

It wasn't their little secret anymore.

"Thank you again, sir. I believe I have it straight in my mind; did I recall it well?"

"Yes, ya did. Ya didn't miss a thing!"

"Oh, good...oh, and by the way, that...mysterious object you spoke of last night, have you stumbled upon it as of late?"

"Ah, th' letter? No, not yet...I don't understand how it could've just fallen out like that; everything was together when I saw it last!"

"It certainly is a baffling case...hm. Well, on the bright side, it couldn't have gone too amiss. That watch was a remarkable find in and of itself, and if the paper was in there for that long undisturbed, it couldn't have wandered far."

"Yes...yes, I suppose."

From outside, Estera's mind began to whirl, drowning out the sound of this forbidden conversation...

The watch? He had even told him about the watch?! Had he told him every detail, even the place where it had been unearthed? Oh, this was-

...Hold on.

The whole reason he seemed to want it so badly was because of something inside of it...that paper.

Oh my gosh, the paper!! Was he- was he talking about-

Trying to not let her enthusiasm trickle into her steps and gum up the works, she tiptoed away from the house...and positively ran back home.

Oh- ow- jeez, stop running so- what do you think you're doing?! You can't just leave mid-conversation like that!!

"The paper that fell out of the watch when we first found it! The one that I thought to be unimportant!" She whispered as best as she could as she opened the door. "It's still sitting at home; we might be able to find a lead of some sorts from it!"

Why, that- a-are you sure? I mean, we don't really need it to go on with our journey.

Estera let the door shut slowly, fearing that the lack of silence made her mishear his words.

"...Yes, we do. That letter is an artefact from the past, right?"

...Well, yes.

"And it was stored inside the very thing that sent us to Las Nevadas in the first place, correct?"

Correct. But-

"But nothing! I apologise for my blasphemy, but...I know for a fact that this might very well be the key to something my heart needs to have. I'm not sure what yet, but...I just know. And besides, Basil needs this just as much as I do...Please, Rasp, let me do this on my own accord."

Thank goodness they were indoors... The wind in the eaves of the cottages all around whistled curiously, adding to the tension of Estera's mind.

The words of the Inbetween couldn't stop ringing...

...Fine. Let's get it over with already.

With a bittersweet feeling flooding her heart, she began to dump her shoes and clean the floor (again). Yet she found his behaviour odd, quite odd. There he went again with trying to dodge what she wanted to do so desperately...goodness, his emotions were fickle things.

Did he want to follow through with his own plan or not? After all, this seemed to be the only thing that would set him free from bondage.

When she made it to the gloomy upper level of the Bareroot house, she was in such a frenzy to get the note that laundry probably went flying into the bathtub. But ah, no matter. It was surely dry by now anyway. Soon enough, her fingers were quick to fly open the dusty note:

To The Man it Must Concern,

I've never been as skilled as you when it comes to showing my appreciation for things, but I'll try my darndest to make my feelings shine through in this note. You know I'll do anything if it brings a smile to that stupid face of yours.

...Oh, gosh.

She didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or disgusted; a bit of both, to be honest. Why did some friendships have to be so...mushy?

I hope you enjoy using this pocket-watch as much as I did making it. It was a doozy trying to find the right heat to soften this stuff at (note the insane amount of warped metal that's been accumulating outside lately...I'm sorry, Karl), but...

Karl.

...Karl?

Karl!!

...What? What's the matter?

"...So that's why you weren't keen on me reading this." Her tone was low, testing the waters, but she couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit smug. So, he did have a feeling or two down in there...! "Who wrote this? Was it one of the people you lived with?"

...J-just keep reading.

"Oh, please, answer me-"

Keep. Reading.

"...Alright. Alright. That's fine." With a...suddenly damp face and unfocused eyes, she readjusted the paper in her palms, taking note of where it had weakened a tad under her touch:

...it was more than worth the struggle. Every part of the process was a joy...especially etching in the centrepiece.

The higanbana. The flower of death to everyone else in the world...but something so much more to us. Like you said that night in their patch (I remember it so well): "To me, it's become the symbol of rebirth. Of accepting a new and exhilarating life with open arms. Giving Mother Nature your all, so she can sing of her son's triumphs for eternity and beyond.

You went quiet for a moment. The higanbana you had been twirling in your hands stopped moving, and you leaned onto your side as you tucked it behind my bandanna. I still remember the tears that shone in your eyes, and that I was worried for a moment until I saw your smile...then I knew those had to be happy tears.

You whispered, so soft I could barely hear you: "And if she gave me you...I must be doing something right.

...Well. I guess your crazy author-y nature rubbed off on me, after all. So congratulations, you nimrod; now you finally have this token of my appreciation after so long.

Trust me, Karl. Our time together may go by so quickly we're hardly able to blink before it's gone, and the higanbana may bloom where we least expect it. (Heck, in the world we live in, death practically breathes down our throats day and night.) You've told me so often that you don't want to lose me, that you're more and more scared for our future together with each and every day that comes.

But this is where I really do believe you're worrying for nothing.

I love you like the sparring-man I never had, Karl. I'm never going to let you go, and I know you'll do the same. Remember, now, I was born in fire. If anyone in the entire darned Bruadar can snuff out tragedy, it's me.

Look, you nimrod. Time means nothing when I'm with you. And I know we're going to make the most of it.

Until We Meet Again,

Sapnap

...Wow. Estera just...wow.

This was so much information to digest, and in such a short amount of time. Well, this did explain why the watch was there in the first place; it was possible that Sapnap buried it with the book before their home burned to the ground. But that still didn't reveal how he knew about it... Well, from the way the letter was written, they were obviously comrades. Maybe he was closer to Ra- er, Karl than Karl himself believed. At any rate, Estera couldn't help but feel a mite grateful for his intrusion...!

But then...wait. How had he been able to bury it before the home burned down?

Had...had he...no. There was no way...right?

And the higanabana. The flower of death- or rebirth, as they had called it. Was that the origin behind Higanbana Hill, Estera wondered? My goodness, yet another clue hidden in plain sight! There was no doubt about it; she needed to find a way to show Ba-

"Wha-ah!"

What now, twit? Are you quite finished with your stupidity?

"No- I mean- oh! It's my che- my chest!!"

Indeed, Estera's heart ached and panged like a thousand tiny pins were being shoved into her lungs. Rasp let out a gasp of concern, Estera fell to her knees on the floor...and her vision spotted white.

White...oh, gosh.

Was she going back?

Already?!

Estera? Oh, no, Estera! Talk to me!!

She couldn't have spoken, even if she wanted to...as she realised the cause of this occurrence, her mental turmoil dissipated like her surroundings, no matter how painful they were.

Her sweater cushioned her fall...and once again, she was rendered numb by her fate.

But this time, she was all alone...was she not?

Chapter Text

"...What?"

Prince Michiko, with his eyes still shut tight as ever, had found an image to focus on besides darkness. Indeed, his abyss was blue, not black; it was as if he had been transported into a world of water. Bubbles rose all around him, yet there was not a single sign of life...

...Wait.

Who was that in the distance?

He opened his eyes just a tad, trying to keep from straining to the point of blindness. When he did, both his own world and...this strange place rang though, clear as the bells of a church.

The Inbetween. A place I don't quite understand. I feel like I've been there before, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

A girl floated along the waves, not moving up nor down, as if some invisible hand kept her from sinking. Panic sent a shock through his heart for a moment; was she drowning? But...no, surely not. Bubbles rose from her breath, so small and calculated it was as if she were merely sleeping.

"Who are you...?"

I can't keep losing my memory. And it seems like every time I go to the Inbetween it happens, but I can't just stop going.

Though the girl had to be multiple yards away from him, her features were clear as a mushroom in the fields. Her eyes looked to be barely open, with parts of them hidden behind locks of brown hair. And what was that on top of her head...? Oh my gosh.

Oh my gosh, she was wearing a mushcap.

But...how?! He hadn't finalised those blueprints; in fact, no one besides the Prince himself knew about those plans!

And they were shaped exactly how he planned them to be shaped. He hadn't quite decided on the colours yet, but this girl's was a deep purple, with fiery spots covering its surface...my gosh.

Who was this girl?

But... Maybe there's just more to that place that I'm just unaware of... I have to keep looking deeper and deeper into the Inbetween so I can find my way to ensure I don't lose everyone that's so close to me.

Her mouth was also a mere sliver; that would explain her small breaths. But her chest moved up and down with each one she took, and...gosh, to the Prince, she looked quite peaceful.

For all of thirty seconds, that is.

Without warning, the girl started to rise against the weight of the water. Her eyes flew open, and she looked to be...crying? Were those tears?

"Who is this? Where...who are you?"

I need to move this library. It needs to be preserved. I will find every way possible to ensure that no matter what, I can do my part to bring happiness to these lands.

The Prince found himself trying to swim forward, but he was held back by the wall of his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes tighter than than already were, but that only made his vision haze!