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They toss and turn in bed, hot shame in their cheeks and anger in their chest. Through the floor comes the pounding sound of music. Muffled by both, intelligible yet audible, is their mom’s voice. And…
They grit their teeth, reaching up to grab their pillow and sandwich it over their ears.
Of course she had to do something like this. Of course she had to worry Susie sick, and then let her see her like… that.
What they wouldn’t give to just spontaneously combust right now.
The worst part is who she was doing it with. Maybe if she had just been getting drunk alone, they could have salvaged some part of their dignity. But no. She had to be on a fucking… date with the weirdo, asshole convenience store owner.
Damn it, they can’t believe this is what’s going to be hanging over them tomorrow at the festival. It’s bad enough Susie is stressing out about the prophecy and the Knight.
Now she’s seen their mom fall-over-drunk, flirting with one of the most obnoxious people in Hometown.
They really should-
Their phone rings.
All at once, it’s like every other sound cuts out aside from the electronic ringing in their pocket. Their hands reflexively release the pillow around their head, and they freeze.
They glance down to the foot of their bed and past it, at the birdcage where it floats. It traces lazy paths through the air, gentle in its movement. Graceful, almost. If they didn’t know any better, they would even say it’s dancing along to the music downstairs.
Fucking… little…
They let their phone ring, and ring, and turn over to voice mail. Once it has, though, they raise it to their ear. While they can’t risk taking a call in front of that fucking thing, they can’t just ignore their phone either.
“Kris, are you there?” comes Mrs. Holiday’s voice, and they feel themselves start in surprise because it’s clear. It isn’t filtered through the garbled noise of that burner phone she has.
Which means this isn’t business. But if it isn’t business, then…?
Mrs. Holiday must tire of waiting to see if they’ll pick up because she sighs. “Then I’ll just leave a message. You are going to the festival tomorrow, aren’t you? I just wanted to confirm. Noelle said she’s really looking forward to seeing you.”
A second, and then a click as she hangs up. A moment later, their phone’s screen goes to sleep, leaving them in the dark.
It creaks in their grasp as they tighten their grip on it.
Why?
Why is it…? Why did it-?
It shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t what they said it would do. This isn’t what they agreed to.
They said all they had to do was open a few Dark Worlds, keep a few people in check, and keep that thing in their soul. Just for a few days. Just until the preparations could be finished. And then everything would be fine.
Everything was supposed to be fine. It was supposed to just go through the motions. Follow the prophecy.
But it’s not, it’s-! It’s trying to… to use her, or hurt her, or… they don’t even know!
Within an instant, they’re out of bed, knife in hand, and stalking towards the cage.
When they stab it through the bars, it floats backwards, just out of reach of the blade. Tantalizingly close.
Tauntingly close.
“Why?!” they growl in an undertone, gripping the cage as it rocks backwards in the wagon. “What the fuck do you want with Noelle?! Why are you doing this?! Just leave her alone!”
It doesn’t answer, but they aren’t swayed. It can speak. They know it can speak. It spoke to them that first morning they had it. It had told them ‘Good morning.’ Like they were fucking friends or something.
They don’t move away. They just rattle the cage menacingly.
Eventually, it does speak.
This is not the first time we have been here.
Its voice washes over them, and they feel goosebumps in its wake.
It’s smooth. Cool. Feminine and masculine and neither all at once. Perfectly even, perfectly emotionless, bordering on robotic but too warm for that. But there is emotion there, in the spaces between the words. Radiating out in sensations instead of sounds.
It’s contemplative now. Thoughtful.
They steady themselves with a breath. “What are you talking about? Do you mean the room? Because yeah, we have been here before, if you’ve forgotten. This is my room.”
A pause as it considers them.
It was different, the first time. The same the second. I do not know why it is different now. I do not think I have done anything that should have resulted in a change. But perhaps she simply had more on her mind this time.
They stare at it in disbelief.
What the fuck is it talking about?
“What are you talking about?” they ask, rattling the cage again as they lose their patience.
Another pause.
When it speaks this time, it radiates distaste.
I should not be here… should I? You were not meant to be my vessel. My ‘cage.’
Their blood goes ice cold.
That’s impossible.
They said it wouldn’t know anything aside from what it saw the moment it woke up. They said it would think everything is fine, that everything is normal.
Before they can reply, it continues speaking.
I was meant to have one of my own. One of my choice, my design, whom I could use as I wished.
“You weren’t,” they say immediately, but their voice sounds shaky, even to them. The lie is obvious.
It radiates amusement.
This is not the first time we have been here, it whispers again, drifting forward centimeter by centimeter to hover even closer to the tip of their knife.
You are not my first vessel. You will not be the last. You are one of a hundred thousand thousands. I have had good vessels. Evil vessels. I have even saved worlds with them before, or destroyed them. Changed them.
I thought everything fine the first time because of that. You were nothing different, but you were just as special. You are all special to me.
Nausea brings bile to the back of their throat at the wistful, almost loving tone of its voice. It makes their skin crawl.
Then it turns sad, and they feel their heart drop into their stomach.
I was kind. Even when you gave me nothing, I was kind. I strove to aid you, guide you, protect you…
Anger, a momentary burst of it.
And you spat in my face.
You threw me. Struck me. Abused me. Resented me. You refused me what thoughts I could not glean myself, you hid your secrets, you obscured your goals. And in the end, the outcome was… not as I desired. It was not as any of us desired, I would like to think.
What is it talking about. What is it talking about, what is it talking about-?!
I tried again. I was not nice. I was vicious. Merciless. Effective. But still I strove to change things. Yet the outcome was the same, save for the little details which were worse. Even your story progressed the same, with fate striking each beat on time as it did that first journey.
“Shut up,” they mutter, releasing the cage and retracting their knife.
It follows to the bars, its red glow painting the front of them crimson.
Something dark and cold, and growing stronger. It radiates from it.
No matter what I did, you conspired against me. I am not supposed to be here, with you, like this, but you put me here. And yet you refuse to cooperate. Now, and before, and before that. Always.
“Because you’re a parasite!” they whisper vehemently, clutching their knife to their chest.
The emotion pulses stronger, and they realize it’s hate.
I am a god. One whom you have trampled through the garden of.
They don’t back down. With their foot, they lash out and kick the wagon, sending it rocking. “You’re a monster! Look at what you’re doing to Noelle! Look at what you made her do!”
Instead of any sort of shame or anger radiating out, though, as they were expecting and hoping for…
Satisfaction.
Resignation.
Sadness. So much of it, cool, brushing across their skin and chilling it in its wake.
Yes. Look. Look at my work, our work. Look at the changes I have wrought. Together, her and I… we have the power to do what you and your friends, your ‘allies,’ cannot.
We can change your story.
They swallow thickly. Their stomach churns, and their breath comes out shaky.
“And what if Ralsei’s right?” they ask, the words brittle and weak. “What if… what if where this leads is just worse than if you had done nothing?”
Then I will change it.
Again… and again… and again. Until we reach an outcome I am satisfied with, I will remain.
They bark a short laugh. “Because we’re your playthings, right? Your puppets? They said that’s all you wanted to do. See a story. Play your part.”
It’s bitterness that clouds the air around it now. It seems to claw the light from the room, darkening everything. Everything except the Soul, which grows a brighter and brighter red.
I wanted to help you.
Their breath catches in their throat, but before they can tell it where it can shove its platitudes, it continues on.
If you had voiced your thoughts to me, I would have listened. If you had whispered to me your secrets, I would have kept them.
Your hopes and dreams, shared. Your allies, aided. Enemies, slain. Goals, reached.
Together.
Together… we could have saved her.
A pause, as the room grows darker and darker.
Their knife falls from their grasp.
But you chose to sow different seeds... you and your allies chose to meddle with affairs beyond your comprehension.
You thought to control powers beyond your control. You still do. You fight against me, tooth and nail, thinking you can win.
You think you can control me.
But I am your god.
Its red light bleeds out of the cage, almost reaching towards them. In the inky blackness, it’s all they can see.
Beneath the hate…
Their head hurts.
Beneath the hate… they can feel love.
Yet... I am benevolent. I am not vengeful. I wish only to rewrite your story to something better.
If I cannot aid you in that endeavor, however… then I must simply find someone I can.
“Leave her alone.”
The words come out so quiet they wonder if it can even hear them.
But then it pulses with amusement, and they know it did.
You have sown your seeds, child.
All you can do now is pray you still reap rewards, and not my wrath.
In the deadly silence after, the light of the Soul fades. Their room, bit by bit, is lit up again by pale moonlight.
They let out a breath they didn’t realize they had been holding.
As they watch, it floats down to the bottom of the cage, resting against the floor.
Goodnight... Kris Dreemurr.
I am looking forward to the festival.