The morning, post-eventful night, arrived with a quiet decree as the sun hesitated behind curtains of morning mist which hung low in the town like a lost cloud. On this day of respite for the weary, the café was empty. It was nearly an hour past the regular opening time, but most of the staff remained tucked into their beds while the front doors continued to wear their padlocks. Within the sanctuary of her room, Beth had grown accustomed to the cadence of early rising, but that didn't mean she liked it. It was like one of those things you're forced to do, and do it day in and day out, but don't complain because it's necessary, like brushing your hair or watering the plants. Regardless, the fifty-two minutes of extra sleep felt nice, so she lingered in the embrace of her private quarters for a while. Her rest, though ample, bore the weight of her mattress's age, which came with it an achy back and stiff neck. "Geez Louise, Beth," she said, cracking her neck in front of the mirror, "lookin' rough, old girl."
After awakening from the tangled web of dark, confusing dreams she generally experienced when she slept, Beth now found herself blinded by her pale stomach. Her general reflection served as a reminder of her age, as evident by her slightly visible concern. She fixed her messy white hair, fashioning it into her typical ponytail. Beth looked toward her main office and saw the sunlight beginning to trickle in through the basement door. Looking back at her reflection, she scratched her stomach and let out a yawn that rivaled some feral animal's howl. Yet beneath the veneer of reality lay a truth veiled in shadows, a burden carried by her and unseen by those she called family. The feeling of her old scars causes her to be still; it's a part of her she tries to suppress.
Every day, she makes it her top priority to be a positive and upbeat role model for her coworkers; again, whom she considers family—which they are. Beth shared a special bond with them all, even Meat, that a lot of blood relatives don't even have. But in truth, it's hard to keep it going sometimes. The mental stress of making yourself emotionally available to everyone almost always catches up. When she felt like this, it was very suffocating, like dying of thirst in an abandoned building with only stagnant water to drink. What a strange way to look at suffocation, she thought—drinking tainted water to stay alive, only to have it choke you out slowly over a few days. From the silent reverie of her thoughts, Beth gazed into the mirror. Soon, the room went white like it does when you look at something for a long time without blinking your eyes.
Now, Beth was hovering in the air through the bright, blank room, looking down on a battle-ready version of herself. Two cave wolves circled her; they were much bigger than your typical mangy tunnel dog. How strange to have two in the same place. The battle shouldn't have been as chaotic as it was, but the limited space of the spider cave made it hard to defend both ways and while those mutts were large, they were surprisingly agile. She got bit a few times, but puncture wounds heal better than slashes, so you'd barely see those marks, but they're still there. As for that four-inch scar on her ribs, that was courtesy of one of those dirty dog's toenails. The Beth in the sky watched as the Beth on the ground reveled in her well-fought victory and faded away in a puff of smoke. Quite a few years had passed since then.
Behind her was a much younger Beth, a version of herself she nearly forgot about. "I can't believe I went two months wearing my hair like that," she shuddered at the sight of her pigtails tied off with pink and yellow ribbons. What a time that was. It was among her first memories, in the early years, when she had journeyed by a small village called Pollard. Roughly forty or fifty people were living there at the time; the settlement was relatively new, less than a decade old if she remembered correctly. There was a young man who lived there named Jawn whom Beth briefly had feelings for. There was a period in her life when she saw a lot of the women in her travels gossiping and yearning for that storybook romance and thought it was something she was supposed to experience. Although it was very awkward for her, Beth made a few attempts to get closer to Jawn, but unfortunately, it would never come to fruition.
However, one day, Beth was in the nearby forest, scavenging for mushrooms, when she heard a loud commotion coming from deeper in the woods. She rushed to see what it was and found Jawn face to face with a juvenile wildcat. Granted young wildcats are very dangerous and should not be approached by anyone who lacks experience in how to deal with them, the sight of Jawn cowering a dozen yards up in a tree, bawling his eyes out, killed it for Beth. She didn't even have to slay the young beast to convince the feral cat to be on his way, but he didn't say goodbye without a clawed swipe to her ankle, which left Beth with a memento. Anyway, that's how she got that scar. She left Pollard the next day and hasn't returned since. Hell, for all she knew, Jawn was still up in that tree. Just like the previous vision, this one faded away too, but then the room changed—it turned pitch black. She didn't recognize the version of herself that she was looking at. Even more alarming, that bizarre version of herself was staring right back at her. The moment was frozen but very much alive. The feeling of sleep paralysis crept in, despite Beth being wide awake—can it happen in daydreams too, she wondered as she felt her muscles tense up. It was a strangling sensation, but not around her neck, around her whole body. The uncanny version of herself smiled strangely, and everything faded away like dull sparks in the wind.
"Elizabeth!" The intrusion shattered the deep tranquility, wrenching Beth from her dreamscape. "Girl, I thought you punched your last ticket." In her momentary lapse, Harper's voice pierced the veil of silence.
"Hey, yeah—No, I'm fine! I was just getting ready!" The words escaped Beth's lips in a reflexive response. She felt a line of slobber drop from the corner of her lips. She quickly attempted to suck it back up, turning away to wipe her face.
"Do your eyes burn?" Harper asked with a tone of sass smeared across her words.
"Sorry, I—I didn't hear my name," Beth's voice wavered, "my eyes? Now that you mention it, they do burn. Why is that?" She started to rub them.
"Because I stood here for almost a whole minute trying to get your attention, and you didn't blink once. The color looked like it fell right out of those gawkers of yours—to be honest, babe, you looked like a dead woman. I even snapped my fingers and said your name half a dozen times. In fact, I was about to hit ya with the ice water or the palm of my hand if you didn't snap out of it when you did," Harper's concern shifted into a palpable fear.
"Honey, let's just say I need a new mattress," Beth confessed, a rueful smile playing upon her lips.
"Okay? If you say so—" Harper looked concerned and not the least bit convinced that her best friend was telling her everything.
"Last night was crazy, and I had a crazy dream, that's all. And that mattress—I feel like Pax after winning the Gorgefest."
"That's gross," Harper started toward the door. "Anyway, throw on some pants and meet me out by the lake; Justice wants to see you." Harper opened the door and stepped out, waiting for Beth, but she didn't come.
"I—I didn't hear my name," Beth's voice is quiet, but the sound of her sobbing is audible.
"Are you crying, babe?" Harper came back in and shut the door.
"I didn't hear my name—," she repeated.
"Relax. It was just because you were spacing out a little." Harper said.
However, Beth's response, though delivered with a tone uncharacteristic of her typical assertiveness as a bar owner, carried an air that hinted at deeper turmoil: "...it wasn't my name I heard!"
Concerned about the possibility of another mental breakdown, Harper gently guided Beth to a nearby chair and sat her down. At that moment, Harper's keen eye caught sight of the absence of the amulet around Beth's neck, a detail reminiscent of a past occurrence—one she wished wasn't a memory she had. "Where's the amulet?" Harper asked. Beth tried to answer, but the words seemed to get stuck in the back of her throat. "Beth?...the amulet?"
"I—I'm uh—" Beth looked over at her bed, which was the last time she remembered having it, right before going to sleep last night.
"There it is," Harper scooped it up off the floor just a few inches from the old rickety mattress. "Put this on."
Beth took the amulet from her and instantly felt better despite not feeling like anything was dangerously wrong in the first place. Different—was the better word. Just as quickly as the sense of calm washed over Beth, Harper felt a lot better as well. Beth rubbed the sentimental piece of jewelry between her fingers, and the amulet emitted a soft, comforting glow. With closed eyes and a sigh of relief, Beth brushed the few rogue strands of hair from her face that managed to work themselves loose from her ponytail. The tension in the room finally seemed to dissipate a little. Beth exhaled a sigh of relief, accompanied by a series of satisfying cracks that emanated from her shoulders and neck. These audible pops served as a tangible release of the pent-up stress that had accumulated within her overworked, scarred body.
"Honey, I need a new mattress," Beth admits with a smirk before looking at Harper's worried or unamused expression.
"Uh, you already said that just a moment ago," Harper reminded her.
"Did I?" Beth yawned, "Sorry, I'm still waking up."
"Are you going to lose it again? Because if I'm being honest, you have me feeling like you might lose it again," Harper blurted out. It was pretty clear that she hit a cord with her best friend. Neither of them noticed, but Harper had subconsciously placed her hand on Beth's scar that held the memory of 'the time.'
"Excuse me?"
"All I'm saying is if you're going to go all beast mode and lose your shit again—take it out on me. If anyone has to be the one, I'd much rather it be me who gets mauled. I would die for you, you know."
Beth's eyes widen while a look of disgust and confusion grows on her face. "By my hands?"
Embarrassed, Harper turned away, unable to meet Beth's gaze. The truth in her words hung in the air like brightly colored balloons. The silence that followed made it impossible for her to articulate her true intentions. "Th—that's not w—what I meant!" Harper stammered her attempt to clarify, only adding to the awkwardness of the moment.
Beth, typically accustomed to Harper's straightforwardness, was taken aback by her friend's faltering speech. There was something implicit, something Harper couldn't bring herself to admit. As Harper's hand rested upon Beth's old wound, her uncharacteristic stuttering, coupled with the depth of her concern, hinted at a truth Beth had long suspected. Despite their longstanding friendship, there was an unspoken tension between them, a bond that transcended mere friendship. With a gentle touch, Beth removed Harper's hand, signaling her desire to move past the conversation. "I believe you said Justice would like to see me, so give me a few minutes, and I'll be out," she said firmly.
"Beth, I—" Harper started.
"Harper, please—I gotta' use the bathroom and get dressed, so give me a minute, alright," Beth interrupted. She needed a moment, and Harper knew that, but it didn't make it easy for her to comply. Even if Beth hadn't cut her off, she had no idea what she'd say anyway.
"Got it, boss," she forced a grin through the uncomfortableness of the moment, fooling no one with how fake it looked. Harper walked out the door, making it a point to slam it behind her.
It took Beth roughly twenty minutes to collect herself and put on the game face everyone got so accustomed to seeing her wear. She went out to the lake to find Justice, as per Harper's instructions, but the teenager wasn't there—no one was. Arvid was walking down the path with his fishing rod and tackle box when Beth started to head back to the café.
"Hey, boss lady," Arvid grumbled, walking past her.
"Arvid, have you seen Justice?"
"The kid? Yeah, she's messin' with the telescope, I think."
"Got it, thanks. Happy fishing," Beth waved, but he kept going. It was still a bit early for Arvid on his off day; chances were he and Pax partied all night, and he was fighting off a hangover. The thing about them, though, was Pax and Arvid could put down the booze like no other—in fact, there have been a few instances where they both hustled some money hosting impromptu drinking contests at the café and tavern bar. However, Arvid had a unique ability, and no matter how much he drank, he never got sick. He'd be grumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs the following morning, but he'd never puke. Pax, on the other hand, could drink like a fish and put it away just as fast as the angry red-haired man, but his hangovers could get quite messy. More reason to avoid Pax today, Beth thought to herself.
When Beth found Justice, she was tinkering with the telescope like Arvid had said. Since assuming the role of a maternal figure, Beth had embraced the notion of imparting her infinity for astronomy to the youngster whenever they found a spare moment to do so. Drawing from her own trove of notes accumulated over the years, remnants of her fervent explorations into the cosmos, Beth eagerly shared her findings with the orphaned teen. These notes, a testament to her voracious appetite for knowledge, were complemented by the wisdom gleaned from the pages of books penned by renowned astronomers of eras past. In her pursuit of understanding, Beth had meticulously compared her observations with those of the luminaries whose works graced her shelves. Now, as she guided Justice through the labyrinth of celestial mysteries, she harbored a quiet hope that the young enthusiast would mirror her dedication and passion for unraveling the secrets of the universe.
Not long after integrating into the familial fold, Justice's burgeoning curiosity about the "dots in the sky" began to come up more and more in conversation. However, it was amidst the nurturing embrace of the White Moon Crew that she found solace and support, allowing her to cast aside the confines of her past and gain a newfound clarity in observing the vast celestial world above. No longer relegated to peering through the iron bars of her former prison-like quarters, Justice was now free to explore the vast expanse of the night sky, her imagination ignited by the twinkling stars that beckoned her into realms unknown. If only she had access to the sparkling dots while at the orphanage, perhaps she could have escaped in her own head all those nights when she cried herself to sleep due to the actions and threats of the headmistress.
It was this thirst for knowledge that prompted Beth to dig out a relic from her past: an old telescope. Years ago, she set out on her own astronomical pursuits, which had lain dormant in neglect for some time. Sensing Justice's budding interest in space, Beth entrusted the telescope to her care full-time, allowing the young enthusiast to tinker with its intricate mechanisms and unravel its inner workings at her leisure. Every kid should have a hobby, after all. The telescope gave her even more reasons to frequent the rooftops at night. If stargazing was her favorite nightly pastime, secretly listening in on other people's conversations was a close second.
As Justice eagerly carried out the task of setting up the telescope, a sense of exhilaration enveloped her, reigniting the dormant flames of her passion for stargazing. The mere act of peering through its lens filled her with a profound sense of wonder as distant constellations and celestial bodies came into focus, each with their own unique mysteries and secrets to uncover. Yet, it was in these moments of shared exploration, with Beth as her guide and mentor, that Justice found true happiness. Under Beth's patient tutelage, the stars seemed to shine all the brighter, and the mysteries of the universe felt closer within reach. Together, they embarked on a journey of discovery, their hearts intertwined by a shared love for the wonders of the night sky. In Justice's eyes, there was no one quite like Beth to impart these invaluable lessons, particularly given her unmatched patience and unwavering support.
During those challenging moments of quizzical inquiry, when the details seemed to slip through Justice's grasp like grains of sand, Beth offered gentle nudges and timely hints to steer her back on course. With every probing question—each "Why?" and "How?"—Beth urged Justice to look deeper, beneath the surface of the question, to explore the depths of her understanding and to embrace the confidence that lay dormant within. Under Beth's nurturing guidance, Justice learned not only the intricacies of the stars above but also the importance of self-assurance in the pursuit of knowledge.
The longer that Justice spent in Crest Town, the more her understanding of celestial bodies flourished. Yet, despite her growing expertise, the pain of self-doubt lingered like an ingrown hair, casting a veil of darkness over her accomplishments, dampening her will to push on in her education endeavors. Beth, ever attuned to Justice's inner struggles, recognized the weight of self-assurance and the difficulty of overcoming the darkness of uncertainty. In moments of vulnerability, Beth shared with Justice a revelation of her own journey—reflecting on her past, she revealed to the young girl the trials she had faced as a solitary seeker of knowledge, nights spent in restless contemplation beneath the starry meadows that make up the night sky. She confessed that her path had been fraught with challenges, her progress hindered by the absence of a guiding hand to light the way. Yet, despite the obstacles she encountered, Beth emphasized a simple truth: that Justice's journey had been marked by a swiftness of understanding that far surpassed her own. In Justice, Beth saw not only a student but also a kindred spirit—someone with boundless potential—boundless potential that was waiting to be unlocked through dedication and perseverance. Today was the day she made sure Justice knew that. "I know you look up to me," Beth said softly.
"Of course. I look up to all of you—but you gave me a life, and for that, I couldn't be more grateful," Justice said.
"Well, I'm far from perfect, but it means a lot to me to be held in such high regard. Which brings me to something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time. We've studied the stars since you came to Crest Town—"
"The very first night," Justice smiled, recalling the memory.
"It was. You said you never saw so many stars in one sky, and it blew my mind. Since then, your passion for the unknown world overhead has far exceeded my own." Deep down, Beth knew part of it was simply because she didn't have enough time to keep up with all the studies, not like Justice did. And on the other hand, Justice was so driven, Beth would have to pull a few all-nighters to cover the ground between them at that moment. Besides, Beth was also fighting with her own demons, sometimes feeling like she was sharing her headspace with a version of herself that didn't like the version everyone else saw.
"None of the kids in the orphanage were allowed to learn anything aside from obedience and their grueling chores," Justice recalled. "Hell, the name of the rock we live on was a foreign concept. I didn't know a thing about our planet—or the Realmstone Gates until I met you."