Zuresti Residence, Conservatory

Lower District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

Annabelle had always wondered why so many human legends contained a hero crashing through doors. The wooden implement leading out of the conservatory looked like someone had done just that. The poor plank of wood lay sprawling on the ground with an innocent and unused door handle sticking out like a sore thumb. Not letting it distract her, she stepped into the adjacent Study.

The smell of dust and stale air welcomed her to the Zuresti Manor proper. Shelves heavy with books lined the walls, a thick layer of mold and dust betrayed their neglect. Most of the furniture had white cloth draped over it, giving the room a deserted feeling. Annabelle noticed a trail of bare feet in the dust. Holding her scythe at the ready, she followed it out of the room. A slight scent of black powder reminded her of the Rucksack over her shoulder. Tharia could be quite irresponsible with the stuff and her Rucksack had suffered as a result. She tugged it back up her shoulder and continued through the doorway.

It led her into a corridor that didn’t look any better than the Study. A dirt-blinded window to her left diffused the moonlight and the thick layer of dust covered the carpet from one end to another. Still, there it was: A trail of human feet in the dust. Annabelle’s nerves were on edge. She checked each corner of the corridor, the floor, ceiling and even the paintings on the wall. Not a single moth was in sight and neither was Eleanor.

Another step. Suddenly, wood groaned underneath her feet. She jumped by reflex and jabbed the wooden handle into the carpet, before even realizing that she had just been spooked. A disembodied laugh rang through the corridor. It made the quiet after more noticeable. The perfect silence made her in tune with the sounds of her own body. Babamm. Anna’s heart paced. Shhhh. Her breath sounded like a gentle wind. One of her bones audibly popped back in place – it happened even to young goddesses. There was, however, one sound that didn’t belong to her.

Flutter.

Annabelle made another step. She wasn’t so much seeing anymore as she was feeling the room with all her senses. Her primal instincts were keen to the finest nuances.

Flutter, Flutter.

There it was again. Close. One more step. A sudden chill in her back made her spin around. The door, pushed by a gust of wind, slammed shut. Her heart raced in shock, additional adrenaline flooded her entire being. It helped to push aside the constant throb of pain in her shoulder.

Flutter.

She whirled around again and continued her careful pace towards the door at the end of the corridor. The feet imprints clearly lead there, yet her instincts screamed danger. Annabelle reached a portrait of young Eleanor before she had met her. Even in painting, the woman looked ravishing.

Anna made two more steps and then suddenly burst into motion. In one fell swoop, her scythe cut a wallcarpet in half. She grabbed it mid-air and then slammed it full force against the picture frame. Nothing happened. She started to feel proper silly for acting on her instincts. Really, it had just been a minor detail: The young Eleanor had been physically repugnant, yet the portrait showed her in her full adult splendor. She was about to give up when a sudden shiver ran through the thick carpet. Hundreds of fluttering things pushed back. The goddess leaned her entire body weight against the carpet and smashed her fist against it. Dozens of dead moths fell to the ground before the swarm finally broke free. She stepped back and held the carpet between herself and Eleanor’s flock. The woman in white manifested a few steps down the corridor with an ugly glare on her face. She was floating, why would she even leave feet imprints on the ground?

The silver-haired woman tossed the Carpet like a net and then immediately dashed after it. It blocked her from view and she used it to get her scythe ready for a surprise swipe at Eleanor. Yet before the carpet could hit, her instincts told her to fall back immediately. She perked up her weapon and came to a full stop. Something razor-sharp cut just past her face, a second attack glanced off her scythe. Six more tendrils had punched through the carpet, their talons in places she would have been.

The goddess didn’t waste time. She hooked the bladed edge around a tendril and then jerked back with surprising success. Eleanor let out a wail of pure terror that ended in loud fluttering. She exploded into thousands of moths that dispersed in random directions. Seven of the tendrils disappeared with her, yet the eighth fell to the floor and burst into flames.

“So you can be hurt after all”, Annabelle said with a grim smile. Admittedly, she barely moved her lips for it - but it was the feeling behind it, that counted. A sudden loud crash marked the end of yet another door. The swarm poured through the now opened corridor and disappeared deeper into the mansion.

“Girl, doors have handles!” Anna shouted after the fleeing Eleanor. She then touched the corners of her mouth in confusion as her smile had widened. Had she just made a snarky comment? She couldn’t help but imagine her friend laughing at the mere thought. It filled her with a gentle warmth that made the smile even more intense. With renewed purpose, she gave pursuit. The Rucksack over her shoulder clanged as small vials inside brushed into each other.

Zuresti Residence, Bedroom upstairs

Lower District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

Tharia found herself sitting on a rocking chair. A blanket had been placed over her knees. The room really rubbed her the wrong way. It smelt like dust in here. She saw tiny moth cocoons in the corners. Silken wallpaper with intense pink color dominated the walls. A miniature doll of Annabelle rested against a blinded mirror. Tharia found the complete lack of eyes most unnerving. Right next to the doll was the portrait of a raven-haired young girl arm in arm with a younger Annabelle. A cleft upper lip on the young girl drew all attention to itself, yet regardless of that, she seemed happy.

“My dear sister suffered greatly”, the Muse said. Tharia nearly jumped out of the rocking chair but found her lower half completely paralyzed. She reached into herself and found the divine flame inert.

“What did you do?” she growled. Her eyes found the Muse sitting on a massive canopy. The question faded when she saw the shape behind him. Someone lied down in the bed. It was a grotesque seeming adult woman, dressed in a childish pink sundress. The empty eyes stared at the ceiling. She had a skeletal body with skin sunken to the bone and thick strands of veins splayed out onto the bed in an odd silvery weave. Part of the skin looked molten. Tharia noticed a pair of decaying mothwings underneath the woman and eight bony tendrils that lay upon the floor. The woman was alive, yet also not. Muse reached for one of the skeletal hands and brushed it against his bearded cheek.

“Your spark will come back in time”, the Muse said. He sounded all alone, his charismatic voice cracked as she choked back tears.

“She, however, will not”, he pursed his lips and after one more longing look towards his sister, he got off the canopy bed and stretched out his arms. No way around it, the old man looked fabulous with his suit and hat.

“Let’s set the stage. You are, quite disturbingly, inside Eleanor”, he said and pointed towards the thick veins leading away from the mummified body, “The walls live and breathe as she still does. Within her realm, she is all-powerful, yet your friend can still beat her with wit and finesse”

The Muse spun around and suddenly held out a decaying rose in his hand. He took a look at the flower, gave it a quick shake of his hand and then presented to her a quickly blooming flower instead. His other hand then placed the wheel-lock pistol in her lap. She saw with a quick glance that it had been loaded again.

“You, my dear Miss Verholden, will be the element of surprise. Kill the body and Eleanor dies, no questions asked”, he said and raised a finger, “But in doing so, you bereave your friend of closure”

A sudden loud sound echoed through the wooden floor, followed by a sharp shriek and sounds of fighting. Tharia bit her lip and reached for her pistol. The handle felt cold in her hand, yet she aimed it directly at the slowly heaving and wheezing body of Eleanor.

“Hm, wonderful reaction! Go ahead then, end it. Your friend doesn’t deserve to heal, does she?”, he said with a mocking grin. Tharia removed her finger from the trigger but let the pistol hover in Eleanor's direction.

“My dear sister sold her out. Without Eleanor...”, the Muse reached up both his arms in a theatrical gesture, “... all of this would not have happened. No Götterdämmerung, no end of days”

Tharia clutched a second hand around the handle. Another loud clang rang throughout the mansion. A moment of silence followed, quickly superseded by intense rumbling and the continued crashing of glass.

“Sometimes knowing why can allow the soul to heal. Or maybe they find peace and become lovers. Are you so petty as to deny her that bit of luck? My dear sister really loved her, you know?”

Tharia ran a finger across the trigger without pressing it down. Should she intervene or let things run their course? She bit her lip and then smacked a hand against her forehead.

“Why are you doing this, you gods-cursed arse?”

“For one reason only”, the Muse leaned in Tharia’s direction. She knew what he was going to say.

“Your stupid dramaturgy”, Tharia interjected, yet the Muse continued regardless.

“To make you grow. You are weak in mind and easily scared”, he tipped a finger against his forehead, “So easily broken. I merely suggest and you obey. How will you face your demon like this?”

Tharia reached up and brushed a hand through her hair, before clenching her teeth. The Muse continued.

“Your friend resisted my lure, yet you fell to it so easily. Don’t you want to grow? This is your chance. Decide. Take initiative. Kill my sister, end it here. They get no chance to talk it over, but you can be sure your Annabelle is all yours. You take away her self-determination but it’s okay to be selfish. OR let it play out, maybe your friend dies, or they elope in love. Either choice you make, you will grow stronger as a result”

Tharia clenched her teeth, “I hate you”

“Good start, my dear. That’s the right way to think. Now enjoy the show, I must say it’s an play most spectacular. That crunch really sounded like something big. And the yelp of pain, maybe she’s already dying down there, wouldn’t you want to know?”

Zuresti Residence, Kitchen

Lower District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

Annabelle came flying through the kitchen door. Her back burst through the wood and sharp edges cut up parts of her blouse. The landing was even more unpleasant. It forced all air out of her lungs and send sharp pain through her chest. The insistent misuse of doors really wasn’t to her liking.

A massively oversized moth crashed its body against the doorframe after her. The wall cracked with each push of the creature. Annabelle got back up on her feet, her left shoulder hurt like agony incarnate. It had opened up again with blood pulsing into the bandage. Her right arm hung limp and the scythe was nowhere to be seen. The kitchen around her had been deserted a long time ago as well. Metal pots were piled up into towers and cutlery sat around untended. A massive oven dominated most of the room with its scent of soot.

She stumbled over towards the oven and fished out a charred piece of lumber. With clenched teeth, she slammed it down onto the kitchen table and then allowed the Rucksack to slide off her shoulder. It smelled off Black Powder, Tharia could be extremely careless when it came to explosive stuff. An assortment of vials rang out as well from inside of it. A sudden rumble marked the end of the wall. The moth-monster pushed its massive head through the hole and then wiggled the rest of its body into the kitchen. Once inside, it sprawled its wings to the full length. Contrary to the beasts outside, this one looked more like an average moth – if a wee bit bigger than usual. A couple of meters, really.

The massive creature stared the goddess down. Eleanor’s laugh echoed through the kitchen without a distinct body to come from. She stopped laughing when Annabelle suddenly grabbed a piece of pyrite and stone from the Rucksack. She hammered them against each other. Once, twice even thrice. The log suddenly caught flame. As dry as it was, it lit right up. Annabelle took the burning lumber while keeping her eyes on the massive moth. The flames licked after her skin. She imagined it being burned off and could simply not hold onto the lumber any longer. It flew in a curved arc and smashed straight into the head of the beast. The fur caught fire immediately, the moth shrieked in pure terror, burning down in seconds. Out of the smoldering corpse came a smaller flock of moths and manifested into Eleanor’s projection. The part of the beast that was already burning didn't dissolve.

“You’re too clever for your own good”, the woman in white snarled. She had visible trouble keeping her swarm in place as instincts proved stronger. Her face lacked all finer detail and sudden holes would appear in it when yet another moth gave in to the lure of the flame.

“We could have enjoyed peaceful days, you and me”, Eleanor said. Melancholy coated her voice.

Annabelle, however, held her left hand outstretched towards the flame. When she summoned the scythe, it took quite a bit longer than usual to form. She kept the blade end within the flame until the metal started to glow bright yellow. Annabelle suddenly spoke with a lifeless tone.

“Why did you do it?”

Eleanor spun around and landed on the ground. As the fire faded, her control over her countenance improved again. She once more looked the part of the ravishing beauty. Yet details here and there made it obvious that she too had taken considerable damage already.

“Do you really not know? You’re hopelessly cruel”, Eleanor said and wrapped her arms around her own chest. She pushed her shoulders forward and lowered her head as if to hide from what was around her. The long hair played the part of a perfect curtain and hid her face behind it.

“My shiny goddess seeks broken people and takes them in. Once they’re entranced by her spellbound kindness, she gets bored and moves on”, Eleanor brushed the hair out of her face. The eyes were brimming with a burning hatred.

“You did this to the Verholden Girl. Gave her legs, propped her up and then just left. As you did with me, cured my visage, propped me up and then threw me away. And the king himself, a heart many times broken and oh look, a goddess herself takes him as fancy”

Annabelle balanced the scythe close to the moth-pyre. The metal had started to heat up, yet it did not change shape. The words gave her pause. This wasn’t the first time she had been confronted by it.

“You inspire love, then crush it with glee”, Eleanor spat.

The words struck a nerve deep within. She had done just that. Memories unlocked in her mind with rapid succession. Annabelle really had been that cruel. Those stranger thoughts really were hers. On the surface, she had the veneer of a kind and gentle goddess but her heart was a tyrant. She clasped the hand around the handle and then swung the glowing blade towards Eleanor with that telltale dead look on her face. Annabelle took a deep breath.

“I’m not good with words, but I’ll try anyway. What I did... harm was not... really I tried to”, she fell into a stutter. Eleanor quietly floated right next to the glowing hot blade. By now it had started to burn away part of the face, yet she did not move aside.

“Curses”, Annabelle said and groaned, “I meant to say, I’m sorry. For what I did. I can’t make it undone and after what you did in return, there’s no way back. For what it is worth, I forgive you, Eleanor and I hope you do the same”

The woman in white let out an exasperated sigh and put up a pained smile.

“It’s alright. I always will, my beloved celestial”

The moment lingered. An odd mood had struck Annabelle, the chaos in her mind calmed down and made way for something else. Resignation. Acceptance. She looked up to see Eleanor reach for the wooden part of the scythe that had, oddly enough, not caught fire. The delicate hand clasped around it and the pained smile widened.

“Let’s end it the only way it can”, Eleanor said with a tear on her cheek. She then forced the blade of the weapon through her neck. The blade sizzled as moths fell to the ground. Transfixed by the display, the silver-haired goddess didn’t realize the danger she was in. A sudden impact lifted Annabelle of her feet and wrested the scythe from her fingers. A partially formed monster-moth had swatted her away with its wing.

She smashed into a kitchen cabinet. Wasting no time, she rolled to the side and barely dodged a barrage of floating knives. The cupboard shuddered under their impact while Annabelle watched as dozens of pale hands let go of the kitchen implements. This just wasn’t fair but neither had she been. The fallen deity dashed around the table and plucked a still burning wing out of the burned up moth from earlier. Intense flames bit into her skin and drove tears to her eyes. Ignoring the intense pain as best as she could, she made way for the table again. A muffled voice came through the ceiling, giving her a moment’s pause. Was that Tharia? What was she doing here? Who was she arguing with? Damn, that girl could curse. No time for that. She continued her assault.

Eleanor floated close to the ceiling. Her eyes kept everything in sight and her control over the swarm was without equal. The mistress of the moths completely ignored the still stuck scythe in her neck as if it wasn’t even there. Annabelle leaped onto the table but found herself face to face with a massive moth. She knew it was just one more swarm-projection but still flinched. With the burning mothwing in hand, she clenched her teeth and smashed her limp shoulder straight into.

It wasn’t a door but this would do. Searing pain made her scream out. The beast-projection put up a confused resistance before it suddenly disappeared. Her own force carried Annabelle forwards, she stumbled and rolled off the table in a mad tumble. Something sharp scratched just past her leg. Another one of those floating knives.

Annabelle’s breath came wheezing. Her body had reached its limit. She wearily stumbled onto her feet, swaying back and forth. Her vision faded from loss of blood, yet adrenaline and pain kept her going beyond what was reasonable. Somewhere along the fight, her left hand had cramped around the burning wing. Out of the corner, she saw what she had looked for. A discarded Rucksack on the floor. She held her cramped up hand to her face, feeling the insane heat of the flames. Using her teeth to forcefully unclench her fingers, she finally got the wing free and let it slide towards the Rucksack.

Eleanor tilted her head in confusion. She saw Annabelle leap back and behind a table, yet was transfixed on the large wing that floated towards the Rucksack. The still burning end reached the fabric and started to burn a hole into it. A sudden blaze flared up and torched the entire kitchen in a massive puff of flames.

Annabelle sat on the floor and felt a wave of heat wash over her. Her back rested against the table that had protected her from the conflagration. This was it. The end of the road. She was out of tricks. Both her arms were unusable, her body was exhausted, the pain was overflowing her senses and the blood loss made her dizzy. Her breath came wheezing. She forced herself up and came face to face with the distorted grimace of Eleanor. The woman in white had suffered too. She could barely keep up cohesion. Yet she sat down on the table with her legs dangling over the edge.

The woman in white reached for a knife and pressed it against Annabelle’s hurt shoulder. The broken goddess was in no shape to avoid it anymore and simply looked up at the moth-queen. A sadistic grin appeared on that face and with slow agony, the knife found its way towards the open shoulder wound.

“It’s a fitting end, is it not? You once more die by my hand and I go up in your flames”, Eleanor said with a dreamy expression and then suddenly forced the knife in. Annabelle wailed in agony but could do nothing to move away.

It was then when a sudden twin-thunder echoed throughout the mansion.

Zuresti Residence, Bedroom

Lower District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

Tharia could no longer stand it. She heard the sounds of fighting and the wails of agony. Her lips had been bitten bloody from nervousness and her eyes glistened with tears. The downside of an active imagination is the horror it can conjure just from sounds alone. She pulled up the pistol and unloaded both barrels of the gun. Loud thunder rang in her ears and clouds of smoke rose from the weapon. It belched out two flames and powerful projectiles found their target.

The Muse was lifted off the ground and smashed into the wall. It still didn’t do much against him, but she did not care. She fished for her pouch of black powder and found it empty. Right, she did have the minor accident that burned down an entire district earlier.

The Muse got back off the ground in one elegant motion. Like before it had done nothing to him, except for shutting him up. That was all Tharia needed. Next, she threw the empty weapon in his direction. Not waiting for its effect, Tharia then pushed herself out of the rocking chair. It didn’t matter if the spark was still inert or not. She would choke the everliving shit out of that bastard. Her body flopped to the ground.

Using nothing but the strength of her arms, she crawled towards the Muse while gritting her teeth. He stood still and watched her with a strange expression on his face. Upon reaching him, Tharia slung her arms around his legs and started to pull herself up by sheer strength of the burning rage inside. It was stupid, she probably had wasted the last chance at saving Annabelle, but she has had it with the man. Her frail fingers clasped around his throat and she began choking him with all her might while hanging down his side.

It was a futile effort. All too soon her strength left her and she collapsed back onto the floor. The Muse knelt down next to her and looked at her like an oddity. He rubbed a hand through his beard and smirked.

“Wonderful, Fräulein Verholden. You made your own path and while it was a stupid one, it signifies your growth. Next time though, you must forgo feelings and act decisively. There never was a reason to not shoot her right there”, he said and patted her on her head. Tharia clenched her teeth in rage but could do nothing. She had to watch as the Muse got up and paced over towards the canopy bed. He gave the mummified shape of Eleanor a look-over. His voice had a soft tone to it.

“Rest now dear. You’ve played your role and earned your calm. Go ahead, I will soon follow”, he whispered and blew a kiss towards the body. Then, an ugly sounding crack rang out when he snapped Eleanor’s neck in two. An inhuman scream pierced the air, followed by total silence. The body slumped back onto the canopy-bed. All of the veins stopped pulsing and life quickly left Eleanor until she did her last breath. The Muse suddenly grabbed the lower jaw and with a crunching sound, forced it wide open. A golden orb fell out of it. He snatched it up and threw it towards Tharia.

“Go. Help your friend. Give this to her once she walks again”, he said and then headed for the door.

“Who are you, really?”

“A charlatan and a liar, what good would my answer be?” there was melancholy in his voice. He waved towards her and then simply left. A sudden onslaught of pain and convulsions brought back the feeling in her legs. She clutched the gem in her hand, bit her lip and rushed downstairs.

Deserted Wanderlust Inn

Lower District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

It was raining now. It had been for three days straight. Tharia liked the sound of it against the windows. She had liked it as a child too because it meant she could go outside without any of her family bothering her. Who cared if she got sick, these were the moments she had been happy. All alone, dancing in a field with cold rain touching her skin. She had missed that most when her brother stole her ability to walk.

Tharia lowered her head. Her back was resting against the wall and her feet lied lifeless on the floor. She gazed into the room. The soft light of the clouded night sky didn’t reach far, but the glow of Holy Bethany’s Barrier lit the room anyway. Annabelle was resting on an old bed. Her shape was sunken in and fever had tainted her pale skin with sweat. A pot of soup rested next to the bed. She would need to feed her again soon. A deep sigh rang out from within Tharia and she looked back up at the night sky.

“Once I have recovered a bit, I’ll continue healing you. You took so much punishment, you know? Why did you do that? You have to dodge”, she said but her own babbling felt hollow to her ears. She sighed again and placed a finger against her nose.

“The Muse was right. We were weak. Worse, we were arrogant. We’re not ready yet for what is to come. But we will be. That I promise”

A sudden cough drew her attention to Annabelle. Tharia dragged herself over towards the bed and pulled herself up on it. She didn’t dare use the spark, every last bit of the divine energy was meant to get Annabelle back on her feet.

“You’re awake, that’s good. Since you always ask the same questions, let me cut it short. I like you too. Yes, you’re still alive. Absolutely, it’s a miracle. Praise me”, Tharia said with a grin to the weary Annabelle, “You’ll walk in uhh... two days perhaps. In a week, you’ll be driving me up the wall again. Now sleep you numbskull. Let me take care of you for once!”

The weakened woman nodded and closed her eyes again. Tharia brushed the silvery hair aside and smiled.

“We’re alive”, she said towards no one in particular and tuned her mind back towards the sound of falling rain. She hummed a quiet melody. It was a most peculiar one she had first heard from a tinny sounding gramophone.

End: Ravaged Paradise | Coming up: Raindrops