That night, Beth got ready for bed just the same as any other night. However, this time, she wanted to try something. Beth wanted to try removing the amulet once again and see if the effects were as mind-numbing as last time. Deep down, she already knew what was going to happen, but her mind craved some sort of validation just to be sure. Despite being well aware of the outcome before even trying, it didn't make the phenomenon any easier to understand.
Why do I always lose my mind when I lose the amulet?
Beth undressed for the night and slipped on her nightwear. After putting her hair up into a tight bun for sleeping, she took ahold of the mysterious piece of jewelry and let her mind drift. She thought about Arvid, Pax, and Meat. The recent turbulent interactions with Harper and Justice also weighed heavily on her conscience. The last thing she wanted to do was agitate or upset anyone; that was never the plan—not once. Harper had been her partner in crime and a close friend in times when a young, alone girl needed somebody for a very long time. As for Justice—Beth had demons, but Justice's story was nothing short of hellish. Sure, the others had their dark times and tribulations, who hasn't, but Justice had no choice but to take it in stride. The life she lived would break most adults Beth knew, let alone kids. Perhaps the saddest part of the whole ordeal was the response Justice delivered the time when Beth asked her how she was able to pull through and remain hopeful during her stay at the orphanage. Justice responded by saying: "That's just how I thought life worked for people like me."
The old adage, 'You have to play the hand life deals you,' came to mind.
Even still, Justice's story was just beginning, and Beth essentially saw herself as a catalyst in the young orphan's journey. She needed to be saved, to be liberated, and she needed a family—Beth gave her all those things. To a regular kid in that situation, that's their life until they're ready to fly the coop and go off on their own to start writing their own chapters. Beth knew that time would eventually come around for Justice, and it was coming sooner than anyone was ready for, even if that was the truth and Justice's proposed destiny. Good luck getting her to believe or agree to any of it. Beth also knew that there was a good chance she wouldn't be around the day Justice finally decided to put Crest Town in her rearview, and that sucked, but oh well.
'What doesn't kill them makes them stronger'.
Harper, on the other hand, that tall drink of a woman, was a whole different story. Some people believe that when you get to a certain time in your life, it's hard to make new friends—especially deep ones that you can trust with your most personal baggage and emotionally connect with. These folks believe that the mind inconspicuously chooses the 'lifers' for us and that a small group of loyal individuals is who you're stuck with for the rest of your life. Unfortunately, a lot of people fail to lock these lifers down in time and reach that mythical age by which it's necessary, resulting in forthcoming sadness, depression, and loneliness that plague the individual until the end of their days. Some people can even hide it well, making it seem like they're everyone's best friend, the life of the party, but at the end of the day, they go home and take off the mask. Nobody knows the person underneath except the schmuck wearing it. Long story short, Harper is Beth's life; she knows it, and Beth knows it. The thing is though, Beth is the kind of person who is driven by discovery and adventure. Harper—well, Harper is more of a homebody who likes to play it safe.
"Sometimes I wish I could be the person you want me to be, Harp," Beth pulled the sheet up to her waist.
She had already taken off the amulet while her head was trailing off with inner turbulence. It made her feel slightly unhinged that she was becoming more and more comfortable with removing it, knowing the potential chaos that ensued. At the same time, it felt kind of liberating, like she was the one in control of the odd artifact and not the other way around for once. It's been 80 years since the awakening, and she knows just as much about her life now as she did then. All that there was were happy moments and god-awful nightmares; there wasn't much in between. "I wonder how much longer I got on this rock," she stared at the amulet until she felt her eyes getting heavy. With a long, nap-inducing yawn, Beth rolled over and fell asleep.
Just as fast as she was whisked off to dreamland, Beth woke up. Birds were chirping outside, the sun hung high in the sky, and she felt surprisingly great. Her hair was still in a nice tight little bun which indicated she didn't toss and turn much throughout the night. Her back felt rather limber, and aside from her neck being a little stiff, she felt amazing. Anxious to get a jump start on the day, feeling as abnormally well as she did, Beth quickly got dressed and stepped out of her basement office.
The café looked a little darker than usual, but otherwise fine. She was kind of surprised nobody was around cooking up a complimentary employee breakfast or brewing a pot of coffee, at least. "Coffee!" she exclaimed, making her way behind the counter. "Or not," she muttered. The pot was stained and dirty-looking, which was odd.
Feeling strange about the messy discovery, she stepped outside expecting to see any member of the White Moon crew, but to her astonishment, there was nobody—no one at all. No Pax, no Arvid. No Justice, Harper, or Meat—no citizens. Come to think of it, where were the birds she heard when she woke up? When she listened attentively to the harmonious avian chirping, she noticed the ever-growing deafening silence. "What is that?" she covered her ears. It was nothing, but it was a very loud nothing. It sounded something like a consistent gust of wind that grew louder but never faltered in tone. The more she listened, the more audible it became. Soon, the deafening howl of silence sounded more like a colossal waterfall spilling over a cliff.
Wincing in pain, Beth covered her ears. A moment later, she moved her hands back down, and the brutal silence remained. "Hello?!" Beth cried out. "Arvid! Pax?!"
Things looked the same but different.
Beth immediately headed to the inn, but to her surprise, she found no one at the desk. The more she looked around, the more she noticed how slightly off everything was. There was a painting of a farmer and his family behind the front desk where everyone was happy and smiling—now, no one was smiling. The plants in the corner were wilted, and there was a strange dew on the windows, making it impossible to see outside.
With wide eyes, she stormed upstairs to see if she was there like always. Failing to muster her usual calm demeanor, Beth tried to open his door. It was locked, and before she knew it, she was banging on the door, loudly saying his name, "Xavier!"
Beth felt something pulling at her, like a big strap restraining her from pushing forward. It took some effort, but with dedicated focus, she managed. It reminded her of the first time she stepped in quicksand; her first instinct was to try and get out as fast as she could, which only made her sink faster. Once she stopped resisting the ominous force, everything fell silent. An overwhelming sense of loss enveloped her, a heavy weight pressed against her heart. Her chest constricted; the ache was nearly unbearable. Digging her fingers into her chest from the pain, she quickly returned downstairs and stumbled outside, almost losing her balance and falling to the ground. "Harper, where are you?!" Her voice vociferated, but there was no response.
Beth teetered on the precipice of fear, her voice fracturing as she spoke Justice's name into the void. Yet, silence lingered, mocking her feeble plea. Summoning the remnants of her resolve, she mustered a pitiful whimper, but still, no saving grace emerged, only the chilling embrace of solitude and the relentless howl of the wind. This was the stuff of nightmares.
Her breaths grew shallow, and panic clawed at her chest like a rabid rodent trying to escape its prison. In desperation, she slapped herself as if hoping to shatter the illusion she found herself entangled in, but the relentless nightmare persisted. She felt like she was watching herself from a distance, through someone else's eyes, but the pain was all the same. With a shattered cry, she hurled herself to the ground, burying her face in the moist soil. "Please, wake up! WAKE UP! Please, just let this end!" she cried out. Her voice—a raw calling of anguish that echoed into the empty expanse.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed up at the blackened storm-riddled sky, pleading for the return of her loved ones. "Please, give them back to me. I beg of you! Please give me back my family!"
In the midst of her torment, a voice pierced the suffocating silence. A familiar touch embraced her shoulder—Harper's. "Beth..." The simple touch on her shoulder jolted her, snapping her back to the present with a suddenness that left her reeling. With a swift turn, Beth faced the figure with wild and confused eyes overflowing with tears of desperation.
However, to her dismay, what loomed before her was not a beloved soul but a haunting reflection of the echoes of her past. Beth stood frozen, face to face with a specter of her former self, an unsettling apparition with a half-translucent form. Its eerie resemblance to her, from the horn to the peculiar body shape, was uncanny. The eyes of ghastly reflection were cold and penetrating, piercing her soul like razor-sharp daggers, leaving her heart wounded and her will maimed. Slowly, the unearthly figure ascended, maintaining an unbroken stare while it hovered several feet above the ground. The noise it made was similar to that of a cicada. The specter crackled and moaned, with its arms and legs twisting inhumanely, popping in and out of the socket—its neck contorted unnaturally.
"YoU weRe neVeR mEaNt to BE," it uttered in a chilling, otherworldly tone. Its mouth was frozen in a haunting stillness, yet the words were spoken. The voice came from all around, even inside Beth's head. The words echoed enigmatically, resonating through the invisible confines of the atmosphere with ominous intent. As if to intensify the macabre spectacle, the protruding lips on its forehead unveil an eyeball in a grotesque display. The squelching of flesh accompanies its soul-melting gaze, fixating on Beth with an unsettling intensity.
With a gasp, Beth woke up in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat. Her body trembled, stuck in a state of half-consciousness, wrestling with the remnants of the nightmare that still felt all too real. Her eyes traced around the room, but she was momentarily stuck in place, unable to move. Soon, the familiarities began to set in, allowing her to relax her muscles slightly.
A piercing, relentless ringing reverberated in Beth's ears, sending waves of nausea down the back of her throat and into the pit of her stomach. It felt like an eternity, a ceaseless scream echoing within her skull. The more she focused on the familiar sights of her room, the more distant the piercing shrieks became, but they were still there—just quieter. Struggling against the grip of the nightmare's lingering effect, she attempted to shift, only to find herself retching over the edge of her bed. The bile had risen in her throat and spilled out on the floor. The taste of acid and last night's dinner danced with the fowl stench of vomit on her tongue.
"Wh—what—is—..." she blurted out in between the eruption of puke. The overwhelming situation dulled Beth's senses. She meandered across the floor, like learning to walk again for the first time, and grasped for the doorknob. Beth was oblivious to the faint sounds of bustling activity beyond her door.
Fear, raw and unyielding, clamped down on her mind like a vise, rendering her a stranger in her own existence, terrified of the fragility of life itself.
A solitary memory slowly came into focus, breaking through the fog of her disorientation. As her vision blurred and her consciousness teetered on the brink, she scarcely registered the creak of her bedroom door, which began to open. The relentless screaming that had transitioned into persistent ringing at some point drowned out any external noise, masking the gentle rhythm of someone knocking nearly inaudible. What felt like an eternity took seconds. There, in the open doorway, was Justice.
Beth struggled against the onslaught of a seizure; her breath became increasingly more labored, and a thin stream of vomit hung from her lips. Her trembling arm reached out weakly as if grasping for salvation in the midst of her torment.
"Uhm, are you alright?" Justice looked on with a worried face, but Beth fell to her knees.
All the other members of the White Moon staff were going about their daily routine and getting the café ready to open when they heard Justice's bloodcurdling scream. "Momma!" Her cry for help bounced off the walls like a gunshot.
Everyone abruptly dropped what they were doing and raced towards the basement office. Harper, the last to burst through the door, pushed past Arvid and Pax, screaming Beth's name. The early crowd of customers heard the commotion and had begun to gather behind the staff, watching on with concern.
"Oh dear," one woman muttered faintly.
"What happened?" Another man asked, still grasping his mug of coffee. Everyone had feared that something dreadful had befallen their beloved bar owner. From Beth's perspective, her vision slowed to a crawl, and her hearing became muffled; the world around her slipped into a cloudy shadow. Her eyes fluttered, taking in the sights of her friends, family, and loyal customers. With each blink, her eyes delayed a little more before opening until they finally went shut.