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It’s strange, the memories that flash across one’s eyes when you’re close to death.
The memory is quick yet complete, a snapshot of a moment she’d assume was long forgotten. She was much younger then, still painfully naïve, believing that the only path that mattered, that her feet would ever walk upon, was the Monad path. It is a dark, stormy day, in this memory; with snow or rain, it does not matter. She is in her bed, wrapped up in thick blankets as a fire roars nearby and Valentinus reads a bedtime story.
The tale is a German one, an older tale. Lea only half remembers the plot. It follows a lord as he mourns his first wife. This lord takes on a new wife, has children, yet still remains wracked with the most terrible grief. The sorrow poisons everything. While at his beloved’s grave, the lord meets a sorcerer and begs the old man to resurrect his wife. But the sorcerer warns him time and again, “wake not the dead.”
That’s the memory that flashes across Lea’s eyes. Valentinus trying to do the voice of an old wizened man, calling out the ghastly refrain of “Wake not the dead!” Of course, the lord insisted the sorcerer bring back his beloved and she returned a terrible bloodthirsty monster. It was all very silly, yet Lea was at the age where such frivolities were amusing. Nothing could bring back the dead. It was just an amusing little story.
Lea Monad had not believed in ghosts.
Unfortunately, Lea Florence very much believed in ghosts.
She was staring at one now.
~.~.~
Carlo was smiling at her. He didn’t seem terribly concerned that a sword was pointed at his throat. He wore a billowing white shirt that was utterly unfit for the storm outside, yet it did not seem to bother him. Blood speckled his face like freckles.
“Who’re you?” demanded Lea, raspy with disease.
Carlo kept on smiling. It wasn’t his smile, the real Carlo’s smile, but the sort of pleasantly fake smile that never reached the eyes. His eyes… they were uncaring, soulless, like a doll's eyes.
Like a puppet’s eyes.
“I’m here to help,” said Carlo, pleasant, polite, wrong. It was as if some demon stole Carlo’s voice but had no idea what he actually sounded like. Sanded away the warmth, the care, the mischievous lilt, and all that remained was a hollow shell with nothing underneath.
“Who. Are. You?” pressed Lea through grit teeth, desperately trying not to cough. Lea pressed the sword closer to Carlo’s throat.
“I’m Carlo Geppetto,” said Carlo, unfazed at the sword. His eyes never left Lea’s face.
“No, you’re not,” hissed Lea. “Carlo died and I was too late–”
The disease spasmed through her, causing Lea to falter. She coughed, roughly, practically coating the inside of her mask with blue phlegm. In disgust, she tore off her mask, as if that would help her steal a little more air.
Carlo giggled, high and childlike, and that’s what solidified everything to Lea.
Whoever this was, it wasn’t Carlo.
“Died?” asked Carlo, amused yet with the tiniest undercurrent of cruel disbelief. “You must be mistaken.”
“Are you a ghost? A demon?” demanded Lea raggedly, still trying to catch her breath.
“Those don’t exist,” said Carlo dismissively. There was something in his tone, in his words, that sounded familiar but Lea could not place it. “I’m Carlo. I’m a real boy.”
“Then why are you here?” asked Lea, glaring at not-Carlo.
“To help save Romeo,” said Carlo excitedly. He said it like this was all one big game for him, an amusing diversion, not her beloved apprentice’s life at stake. “I was bored when all of a sudden, a chrysalis fell from the sky and brought me here. I think it’s been said that butterflies embody wishes. I suppose someone wished for me to be here?” Then, slyly, knowingly, Carlo asked, “Was it you?”
In that moment, my wish is that I get to sit with you as the light of the sunrise washes over us, and we share a laugh... together.
Lea felt herself double over as the pain of revelation washed over her. That heartfelt wish of halcyon days, that simple wistful desire to just have one more moment together… it had been corrupted, just like everything else in this miserable rotten city, warped into something mocking, revolting. A shudder ran through her as she fought not to throw up.
The saddest revelation about it all was that Lea knew she could not win alone. If she had any chance to save Romeo, she would need this abomination’s help.
And this perversion of Carlo knew it too.
Carlo reached out and placed a hand on Lea’s shoulder. Coming from anyone else, it would be a comforting gesture. From this demon, it felt wrong: he was too cold, his skin too tight and smooth, with a strange puppet quality to his touch. Lea flinched away, as if she’d been burned.
“That was terribly rude of you,” chided Carlo. “Please, be a good girl for me.”
Lea, in a snap, knew why Carlo’s speech sounded familiar.
“You sound just like Geppetto,” whispered Lea, the newest revelation settling stonily into the pit of her stomach.
“Of course I do,” said Carlo with a reverence the real Carlo never had. “He’s my Father. I love my Father very much.”
It was just another twist of the knife. Another desecration to the memory of Carlo.
~.~.~
As that damn disease ate away at her, Lea could feel the weight of her regrets slowing her steps. They dogged her, a bitter wind she fought against every step of the way. When the happiness felt too good to be true, Lea fled. When tragedy befell then, she couldn’t face the past. When Lea, for once, stopped pushing herself and committed the indulgent crime of rest, Romeo suffered.
It nearly made her laugh. Now the past was standing beside her, always with that damn mocking smile, her punishment for the sin of a scrap of that halcyon happiness.
It didn’t matter that Lea didn’t trust the ghost, much less wanted it here. She knew, deep down, that no matter what she said, this twisted simulacrum of Carlo would follow. After all, that damn wish, made in a moment of weakness she’ll regret for her remaining days, brought him here.
That’s what happens when you dream of better days, when you wish for those dreams to come true. It’s easy to forget that nightmares are dreams too.
“We have to find a way into the Rose Estate," explained Lea as they trudged through the snow. “Despite outward appearances, its defenses are formidable.”
The demon wearing Carlo’s face giggled, high and thin. The wind almost caressed him, causing his clothes to flutter, like he was made for the deepest chills of winter. Or the coldest circles of Hell.
“Luckily, I have the key,” said not-Carlo happily.
Lea stopped short, causing the demon to walk into her. Spinning around, she could only stare, mouth agape. She had lost that key! How–
Carlo smiled, mocking, as if he understood the punchline of a joke quicker than her.
“Yes,” breathed Lea bitterly. “I suppose you would have the key.”
Lea reached out to take the key, only to have Carlo’s hand close around it. That damn smile never left his face.
“What do we say?” asked Carlo sing-song.
There was a moment of fury, white hot in its intensity. But just as quickly, it flared out, leaving only that bone deep weariness that threatened to swallow her whole.
“Please,” whispered Lea. She didn’t know if she was begging for the key or for this demon to release Carlo.
Carlo’s smile only grew, selfishly triumphant. Gently, so softly to be an insult, Carlo took Lea’s hand and set the key in it, closing her fist around it. Lea didn’t stop the shudders that raced through her.
“Good,” said Carlo. To add one final insult, Carlo gently patted Lea’s head, how one might praise a dog. “Let’s save Romeo.”
Lea bit back the sobbing scream that threatened to bubble out.
~.~.~
Carlo, or whatever was puppeting this wraith, fought like a man possessed.
This Carlo wielded a strange double edged scissor blade, effortlessly switching between fighting with single and double blades. Even though he never stopped smiling, that smile was tainted by twisted emotions.
His cruelty shone the brightest. Lea turned, after slaying her own foe, to watch as this not-Carlo cleanly sliced through the legs of another Carcass. But instead of delivering the coup de grâce, Carlo instead hacked through its arms as well. Limbless, the Carcass raged, desperate to do something, anything. But instead, Carlo simply… watched, fascinated. Like how a boy would watch a dying animal with malevolent curiosity.
Lea stepped forth, ready to kill it, when Carlo brought up his mechanical arm – something the real Carlo never had. Flames spit forth from the arm, coating the Carcass in fire. It screamed, a pitiable cry, before it finally, mercifully, died.
As if sensing her stare, Carlo turned, forever smiling. Carcass blood painted his face and teeth. He had the nerve to seem proud.
“Why?” asked Lea.
“I was bored,” said Carlo, as if that would explain everything.
Somehow, it did.
Lea turned away, ready to run, ready to distract herself with the next fight, ignoring how this monster fought like Carlo yet was nothing like him.
Instead Carlo spoke up again, his tone almost contemplative. “You know, Carcasses scream different than humans.”
Lea stopped.
“I’ve asked Father why that is,” continued Carlo, as if they were talking about the weather. “He laughed, and explained it’s because their vocal cords scaled over, so they need to try harder to scream. Then he said good boys don’t ask such morbid questions, so I haven’t asked again.”
Carlo stepped closer. Lea closed her eyes and breathed, promising herself she would not turn around. She would not react. She would not give him that satisfaction. Lea opened her eyes, and he was standing in front of her with that damnable grin.
“When do you think your screams will change?” asked Carlo curious.
Lea did not answer. Instead, she pushed past him, roughly shouldering against him. But, before she could get any distance, Carlo caught her arm. His icy grip clenched tight as a bear trap.
“Didn’t your parents teach you manners? Good girls shouldn’t be rude,” chided Carlo.
“Let go of me,” hissed Lea.
Carlo considered Lea. His gaze reminded Lea of a moment years before, when the Alchemists came to the Estate for some function or another. Valentinus had Sophia and Lea act as hostess, performing their familial duty by indulging in meaningless conversation. At one point, Sophia, out of polite obligation, had shown Simon her butterfly collection. Simon’s eyes had seemed to pin down Sophia just as cleanly as the butterfly’s wings.
Was that all that Lea was reduced to now? An insect to be pinned, spread wide of her suffering, fully on display for a monster?
Abruptly, Carlo let her go.
“I forgot,” said Carlo simply, stating fact. “I heard somewhere you don’t have real parents. Of course you wouldn’t have learned.”
“And your Father taught you your manners?” snapped Lea, refusing to let that insult pass.
“Yes,” said Carlo brightly. His eyes glowed like an animal’s at night. “The first thing he taught me was that people were flawed and needed to be fixed. He would fix Krat and everyone for me.”
Had... Geppetto brought him back? It seemed impossible... yet those old words, from a story long ago echoed in her head like prophecy: wake not the dead.
Had Geppetto somehow found the magic to wake the dead? Was this monster all that remained of Carlo's soul?
Another Carcass roared in the distance. Lea shook her head. Romeo. Right now, she had to focus on the living. Focus on the apprentice that still could be saved!
Lea pressed forward and the shadow of Carlo stalked in her wake.
~.~.~
No. No, no, no, no, no, no.
Lea stepped forward, an unwilling puppet, gasping as sobs built in her chest.
It was just another blow, another weight on her soul, another failure.
“No,” whispered Lea, gently taking the mutilated hand, Romeo’s severed hand, in hers. “Not you… Not like this…” Pressing the hand to her forehead, a parody of the affection they once shared, Lea mumbled, “This wasn’t supposed to happen…”
The hands are cold. They hung limp, like a puppet’s.
With a shuddering sob, Lea fell to her knees, unable to look at anything but the blood pooling below, sticky and congealing, soaking through her pants.
“Why does this keep happening?” said Lea in a daze. As if the blood would spell out an answer. “Is it me? Is it my fault? Romeo. You never should have had to suffer this… not you…”
In her peripheral vision, she saw a hand, mechanical and inhuman, reach out and grab a letter from the ground. Something fluttered out of the hand’s grasp, the glossy paper staining with blood. Lea’s hazy vision swam, taking a painfully long time to understand what she was seeing.
Romeo, strung up, lit by lights. Painfully trapped by an insane puppet. There was no way to know if he was dead or alive. Perhaps there was hope, although Lea struggled to muster even the smallest ember of it.
That damnable hand snatched up the photo. Another, dead weight, a vice grip instead of a comfort, grasped her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” said the parody of Carlo, the demon just there to salt the wound. The words curled in his voice, a monster trying and failing to offer comfort he could not comprehend. “Father’s just going to turn him into a puppet. He’ll live a little longer.”
Lea’s soul snapped.
“You heartless demon,” snapped Lea, seething, slapping the hand from her shoulder. She rose so quickly her head bumped into Romeo’s arms. They swung like nooses. “You soulless abomination! How dare you wear Carlo’s face, just to torture me, torture Romeo! You are nothing more than a shadow of who he was.”
“But I am Carlo,” said not-Carlo, confused. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because Carlo died!” shouted Lea. “And you are not him!”
“But I am,” said Carlo, his smile starting to slip. “I was gone a while, but Father brought me back. He fixed me, just like he can fix Romeo, make him better.”
“I don’t care what that bastard calls you,” said Lea, stepping towards Carlo. “Geppetto is a selfish lunatic for waking the dead, for bringing back a monster–”
The slap caught Lea off guard. Once, she could have taken it. Now, wrapped in misery and fading from disease, it knocked her to the floor. Lea held one hand to her cheek, just staring up at the demon who wore her friend’s skin.
“Don’t insult Father,” ground out Carlo, his smile gone. Carlo never looked more like Geppetto in that moment. “Naughty girls need to be punished. I’m disappointed in you. I didn’t want to resort to the lash but you left me no choice.”
The pain, this new fresh pain, raw with emotions, cut through the daze of her grief like a knife. She saw double, Geppetto and this undead creature, overlapping. How could she have ever confused this… creature with her beloved friend? This thing was a monster of Geppetto’s creation made from Carlo's scrapped soul.
“I don’t know what he did, but Geppetto… really brought back a puppet,” said Lea, lost in bewildered realization. “This was everything he wanted Carlo to be? A cruel uncaring obedient puppet? A copy of himself?"
"I'm not a puppet!" argued Carlo hotly. "I'm a real boy! Puppets are only meant as tools to serve Father, to serve me. Puppets are-"
Carlo paused. Whatever he was going to say about puppets, he swallowed, looking away. For a moment, only a flicker of eye movement that a warrior trained to noticed such could catch, Lea saw hesitation in Carlo's eyes.
"Puppets are?" asked Lea softly.
"It doesn't matter," dismissed Carlo. "Good boys don't go against their Fathers."
Was that the tiniest waver of hurt in his voice? The slightest defensive hunch in his shoulders. Lea once could read Carlo like a book, but that book had been horrifically damaged. But some text, miraculously, still remained buried deep.
"Do… you even have any memories in there?" asked Lea slowly, the sort of tone one would use on an animal. "Or did Geppetto scoop out those...happier days? When we all performed together? Fought together? Sat and watched the sunrise?”
The tears that fell now were quieter, subdued, an old mourning returning with the presence of a lost friend. Instead of anger or fear or disgust, all she felt for the thing that was once Carlo was… pity.
Carlo wasn’t smiling anymore. It was a reflection of Geppetto. Getting down on one knee, Carlo gently lifted up Lea’s chin so he could meet her eyes. This time, Lea didn’t back down from his gaze.
“No,” said Carlo, solemn. “I don’t. Those days mean nothing to me. All that matters is my Father. He cares about me more than anything in the world. No one else matters. No one.”
“And I am so sorry for you,” breathed Lea. “You can’t even see how badly he has ruined you. That isn't love.”
Carlo flinched. Quicker than human, he shot away, stricken. There, again! There were glimmers of Carlo, the real him, as if he had been buried under layers and layers of paint. But she had chipped away enough to catch a glimpse of him.
The past several hours with Carlo tilted in Lea's mind, shifting lights through a new prism. Romeo hadn’t been the only one hurt beyond belief. Romeo wasn’t the only one of her apprentices that had suffered cruelly. Lea blamed the victim who had been twisted into a monster by his Father. She should have blamed Geppetto from the start.
“Why would you say something so cruel?” whispered Carlo, cracking with pain. “Father wished upon a star and gathered all the Ergo in Krat to bring me back. I love him more than anything else. I give my heart to him, like a good boy.”
“I hope you realize one day how hollow that is,” said Lea. The words began to leak out, fresh regrets flowing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Geppetto. If I had known how he had twisted you I would have stopped him. You deserved so much better of a father, Carlo.”
“Stop!” shouted Carlo, face twisting into rage.
“You are Carlo, I see that now,” said Lea softly. “If I survive this, I swear I will do everything to help–”
Her words were cut off by a sword to her throat. Carlo’s eyes were wide, teeth bared, a restless spirit. His frame shuddered and Lea could swear she heard his arm creak.
How could she have feared this creature? How had she feared the broken shards of Carlo?
“Why should I care about you?” hissed Carlo. He broke into a mad ramble, losing himself to nonsense. “You’re nothing to me. I only did this whole adventure because I was bored. Because Father wants me to remain safe while he fixes Krat. Nothing you do will change anything because Father will make Romeo a puppet, and I’m going to kill him, and then Father will kill you because no matter what Gemini says, the future can't change! I’ll… I’ll tell him to kill you so you disappear, just like it’s supposed to go!”
Gemini?
Something in her face, whatever mix of pity and weary sadness, made Carlo flinch. Without another word, Carlo fled, deeper into the estate.
As his footsteps faded, leaving only the steady drip of blood, Gemini gave a quiet chirp.
"I... have no idea what he was talking about," said Gemini softly. He had been silent for much of the journey, just as focused as she was. It was almost a shock to hear him speak.
"I know," said Lea.
"Lea..." began Gemini wretchedly. "I'm sorry..."
At Gemini's simple words, Lea gave herself grace. In the silence of what had once been her home, Lea mourned, freely, without blame. Lea cried for her friends, cried for the halcyon days forever gone, cried for the shattered remains of them all, dead but not yet buried. Carlo belonged to the dead, but the selfish wishes of other dragged him back, a twisted shade of himself.
Lea Florence believed in ghosts. But, she realized, the ghosts that haunted them were the memories, always brighter and glittering, of the past. And those ghosts of better days drove men to madness.
After all the warning had been clear: wake not the dead.
After a long time, Lea collected herself and slowly rose.
"We have to find Romeo," said Lea tiredly.
Gemini simply chirped, a comfort, one of the few she had left. At least she would have one friend at her side, in the end.
~.~.~
Just as Lea suspected, Carlo returned. Perhaps Lea's wish compelled him for all she knew. Regardless, Arlecchino fell. Romeo was saved.
A final moment, spent together, with her beloved apprentices, as the sun rose. Isn’t that what she wanted? What she wished for? Didn’t she dream, yearn, for just one more moment?
The wish had warped, like a wilted flower, a desecrated decaying remnant of what it once had been. Romeo moaned softly in her arms, his puppet hands twitching in hers. Despite everything, Lea hoped Romeo's dreams, lost as he was in his feverish broken state, were kind, memories of happier days.
Carlo watched the sun, silent, sullen.
“Play time is over,” mused Lea softly, hazarding a guess.
The way Carlo sighed told her she was right.
“Father will be looking for me,” muttered Carlo. Was there some hint of… annoyance? Resentment? Frustration? That damnable smile had yet to return, thank goodness. In the sunlight, Carlo looked more human, less like a ghastly statue warped into his Father's image. Lea wondered if Geppetto wanted a happy, obedient son, always smiling and eager to see him. How exhausting that must be.
“He doesn’t like that you’ve left?” asked Lea gently.
“Father loves me and wants me to be safe,” said Carlo. “But I always come back. I can’t die now. But he thinks I'll go away again.”
One suspicion confirmed, at least.
“I’m sorry,” said Lea.
“Stop that,” said Carlo harshly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for! I just get bored, is all.”
Would Carlo, whatever fragment of him that remained, be stuck forever as a selfish child?
“I wish…” I could save you. That this never happened to you. That you didn’t have to suffer. That you still could sleep in eternal peace. Lea swallowed the words. Look what wishing had gotten her.
The sun rose higher in the sky. The world held its breath. Time seemed to still.
“We could have been good friends,” said Carlo into the silent morning.
“We were, once,” replied Lea.
“Even though you were rude, you were fun,” said Carlo. “Geppetto replaced all the humans with puppets. I killed them because Father asked me to and I love him. They’re nice, the puppets, but boring. You were never boring.”
Lea was too tired to respond. Too tired to feel horrified.
“I’ve been… thinking,” said Carlo, slowly letting out the words, like the plan was stitching together in his mind. “I have a big Lie I could tell. The biggest Lie of all, to turn the page from ‘Happily Ever After’ to ‘Once Upon a Time.’ It was a gift. I love Father, he’s the only thing that matters, but I’m not a puppet, I’m a real boy.”
With that last statement, Carlo gave a pointed look at Lea. After a pause, he continued.
“And, as a real boy, I can make my own choices! And I'm so very tired of being bored," said Carlo, with all the enthusiasm of a child. "So, I’m gonna Lie! Tell a big Lie! I’m going to go have so much fun and then I can come back and tell Father all about my adventures. Because I love him. And I’ll come back to him because he’s the only thing that matters."
The smile returned to Carlo's safe. It could have been a trick of the light, but it felt realer now, less like a puppets. Lea could only hope time away from Geppetto would help.
“I hope your adventure is fun,” said Lea softly.
Carlo giggled, high and childish.
“I hope yours is too,” said Carlo impishly. “I’ll ask Father to make a puppet of you. Maybe you won’t be as boring as the rest of them he's made into puppets.
"And then..." Carlo hesitated. "Maybe we can all... play together?"
It was a hopeful, fragile statement. A Lie if Lea ever heard one. But Lea could only hope that Lie could one day allow Carlo some measure of peace.
"I would like that," whispered Lea.
Carlo laughed, truly now. For a moment, Carlo sounded just like he had in life. With that, between one blink and the next, Carlo dissolved. Whatever wish had brought him here was fulfilled.
Romeo trembled. Lea tightened her grip on him, not truly feeling the cold anymore. If she stayed here, Lea suspected she would simply harden into stone itself. Time was almost up, one way or another.
When Geppetto came, she decided, she would fight. When, inevitably, she lost, she would destroy herself and Romeo. There were worse fates than death, Lea now knew. At least then, they could finally rest.
Then, all she could wish for, was that someone finally heeded that old warning: wake not the dead.