"Holy shit..." I stepped back from the mirror after parting my hair, gazing upon the two short black horns that rested between my dark-brown locks. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose to ensure I wasn't playing tricks on myself, but they still remained on my head. Maybe I'm asleep right now. What if this is a nightmare?
The Umbridge manifested in the corner of the apartment bathroom, chuckling in their deep voice. Their enigmatic, wormhole-like eyes remained fixated on my horns.
"Yes, they're real; you're not dreaming."
"R-really? You're telling me I look like a damn freak now?"
The cloaked figure, now standing six feet tall, stepped back into the shadow-filled corner the moment the doorknob jiggled. Behind the door, I could hear Shinso's voice.
"Are you talking to yourself again? It's late..."
I exchanged a final gaze with the Umbridge before sighing in defeat. "Maybe those creepy wraiths made me crazy in the head."
I turned away from the mirror, raising my loose pajama shirt above my head. Through the neckline, I could see the illusory patches of dark energy pulsing around my spine—where those illusory wings should be. The moment Shinso opened the bathroom door, my face flushed as I immediately lowered my shirt, my face swiftly flushing.
Instead of looking tired or angry, he smiled softly and approached me, taking my hand. "I promised you I'd be your pillow tonight, am I not doing a good job?"
My hands dove into my hair to ruffle it, covering my horns as I said with some difficulty. "I mean ...whatever."
As Shinso and I left the bathroom, my gaze drifted to the far end of the apartment, near the window. Damien was tucked on a pile of blankets and pillows we secretly gathered from the closet—a makeshift bed. The white-haired boy's eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted as he snored softly. Outside, the crimson moon shone brightly, casting shadows off the walls of the room.
I climbed into my own bed, which I had agreed to move beside Shinso's. The indigo-haired boy let out a huff as he ignored his own bed, slithering into mine and resting under the covers. He emerged at the head of the bed, resting on the pillows and pulling me closer to him. With my back facing him, I could feel his heartbeat pulsing against my illusory, wraith-based wings.
Shinso didn't know they still existed, nor did Damien. In the past two weeks, I'd been too embarrassed to change in front of either of the boys present with me. The most recent Blood Moon didn't harbor any supernatural effects, which I immediately blamed on myself. Perhaps I had absorbed all the wraiths and spirits present in the kingdom, maybe even in the far corners around the kingdom, too.
In terms of other developments, Catherine and Carter are still under surveillance by the Pollinators, who've initiated legal proceedings to determine whether to imprison them. Shinso is the main defendant in the situation, taking the lead in proving they're innocent; that their acts are morally justified to a certain extent. So far, not much action had taken place, as any semblance of representation was occupied by the Pollinators and their current missions.
Soon enough, Shinso was slumped back, asleep with his arms still wrapped around my waist. Meanwhile, I remained awake, staring at the ceiling. It reminded me bleakly of my room back at home. The ceiling of my room was always somewhat moldy, but it never extended past the corners, or near the ceiling fan. In the past, I remember trying to clean it with rags, even with my serious lack of chemical or homey knowledge. To counter this, my mother simply painted over the mold—the same color as my room—a pale blue color.
"You two look comfortable," The Umbridge's voice sounded from the corner as they phased into existence in the shadows. Their illusory eyes looked directly at me, slightly softening upon gazing at the intimate scene.
My face flushed as I looked down at the sheets, avoiding direct eye contact with the enigmatic figure. At this moment, the Umbridge unclenched their hand, revealing a puddle of ethereal crimson and black liquid, swirling.
"Are you ready for your advancement?"
Hearing this, I scoffed and rolled over, now facing Shinso. I buried my head into my chest as I groaned with a muffled voice. "It's late; I'm tired. Maybe later."
"You've suspended your advancement for over two weeks. Eventually, your spirituality will get tired and yearn for advancement."
The Umbridge's explanation only made me more irritated. "So my own body will betray me because it wants to advance?"
"My spirit body must be fuming at me."
The Umbridge took a step forward, approaching the bed. Shinso shivered in his sleep, habitually curling up. Their mouth, composed of a single glowing line, twitched into a reluctant smile as they took my hand. My surroundings turned illusory and ethereal as I was dragged into my mindscape. Pillars shot up through the floor, and an endless mass of dark-colored smoke flooded from above.
As the total expanse of the throne room came into view, the Umbridge manifested in the endless dark fog above me.
"Of course you're one to drag me against my will," I groaned, rubbing my glabella.
My spirit body manifested in the other corner, gazing at me with an indifferent, almost unreadable expression. It stood at my own height, had black horns and black wings. It stood by the window which my father had been flung out of—the glass now perfectly intact and repaired.
The illusory figure a step forward, its wings unfurling on its back. Without saying a word, it soared over to me and landed at my feet. On my own back, the illusory, wraith wings whispered and laughed quietly in the expanse, their sounds layered and ethereal.
"So you're really eager for me to grow stronger?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, sighing.
I was still clad in loose pajamas, not in the usual attire I'd dawn up here. But since my spirit body was in a sense—me—I don't think it would judge its 'master' to any extent. My spirit body opened its mouth, a gaping, inscrutable vortex of energy, and spat out a bottle onto the carpet. It was filled with the same illusory liquid the Umbridge had held in their palm.
"I assume the Umbridge gave you this?" I knelt down and picked up the bottle, holding it to the dim lighting.
"Yes, they did." My spirit body no longer had an irrational state. In a way, it had completely disposed of my fathers identity, therefore, ridding the alternate instincts and influence. Now, it remained almost completely lucid and able to properly communicate.
"Alright. So ...I'll become a ..." I looked up at the endless dark fog, arching an eyebrow. "Don't these things have names?"
From within the fog, two pairs of ethereal eyes came into view. "You'll become a Harbinger."
At this moment, a scroll of crimson and black energy formed in front of me, describing in perfect English the abilities and changes that one could unlock at this Order.
Allegedly, Harbingers could now cause small-scale disasters with a sharp intention. The example supplied was being able to whisper the name of an individual, and they'd die in a few days. They'd also gain access to Chaos Instinct, a subtle ability to slightly offset the rationality in a person for a short period of time. The Chaos Instinct was a portion of spirituality located right in the individual's genitals.
Reading this, my face flushed, and I turned away. A torrent of information suddenly coursed through my mind. I recalled the story that Catherine told us. The devils, demons, and horrible creatures originated from the genitals of the Primordial One—the Elder of the Cosmos.
Taking in this information, I quickly made a deduction. Would most of these abilities be oriented in the genital region? After all, all aspects of such a thing originated from Him. This guess only made me more flustered, and I took a step back from the scroll to collect myself.
"Don't worry, not all abilities from this Pathway are related to genitals. Almost everyone on your pathway is unsettled by this."
The Umbridge's reassurance calmed me down a little, but I still couldn't help but feel flustered deep down. After regaining the courage and energy to look back at the scroll, I kept reading.
Harbingers are also among the ones who can indirectly enter the Astral Void for a short period of time, accessing abilities related to calamity and destruction. Though these abilities were relatively weak in power, anyone above Order 6 could resist them or exhibit complete immunity to them.
"So ...I don't gain any physical enhancements? What am I, a glass tank?" I chuckled self-deprecatingly, turning back to the endless expanse of thick, dark fog.
The Umbridge chuckled to themself and descended from the fog, pointing at the illusory wings on my back. They were now multiple meters in diameter, with countless eyes and mouths within them.
"I'd say those wings are already a powerful enhancement to your abilities. Spiritually, they're dead, but their dead spirituality is akin to a walking disease to other Seekers of different pathways...now..."
The Blood-Moon Charm and Whisper-wishing bone appeared out of thin air, drifting around the potion bottle. "Put them inside the potion and consume them."
"C-consume the objects? I'd choke." I was taken aback by this information.
"No, you won't. Pathway Fragments are the essence of a pathway—naturally compatible and illusory in nature."
As if to silently demonstrate, the Umbridge unscrewed the lid, dropping both items into the potion. "Pathway Fragments are also artifacts that grant one the abilities of such pathways. That's why it's titanic to not let them fall into the wrong hands."
When I shook the bottle, I didn't hear anything hitting the glass sides except the thick liquid. Huh, it really did work. This potion is either really acidic or something else. After falling silent for a few seconds of contemplation, I unscrewed the cork lid and brought the concoction to my mouth. The moment the two connected, I let out a low hiss as I spat out the potion onto the floor—it was sizzling hot!
"What the!—" I staggered, shooting an almost annoyed glance up at the Umbridge. The illusory, enigmatic figure chuckled to themself.
"I forgot an important detail. You have to pledge your dignity and self to the potion, signing yourself off to its will and power."
I looked back at the now half-empty bottle of blackish-red liquid, shaking my head slightly. "What do you mean?"
"After Order 9, one must pledge allegiance to the potion so it remains rational and collected within the host. To a certain extent, every aspect of a potion is indeed alive—whether one likes it or not."
"I guess I'm doing a bad job. I don't want to pledge allegiance to an evil potion; that's not why I drank it." It was at this moment that the surface of the potion bubbled and fizzed, as if feeling a surge of anger at my rebellious statement.
"What if I were to drink it without accepting its conditions? Would it, like ...leave my body?"
The Umbridge took a step forward, shaking their head. "No, but it would surely want to. Once it enters your body, it can't truly leave. Even if a single drop remains in your body, so does the power within the potion."
"So ...me throwing up my previous potion wasn't a harmful thing?" I thought back to my time at the medical facility, how I had thrown up my Order 9, Doomweaver potion following my attempts to help Ruth, Daisy, and Oscar. It didn't take a genius to understand the nature and complexity of the potion; it wanted an evil host for its evil nature.
Whoever made this potion—and this pathway—surely loved to cause chaos, especially to those who drank it.
"It was harmful to you. The potion, even if it didn't truly possess a 'life' of its own, it surely possessed instincts and habitual tendencies. Deep down, everything is evil if you look deep enough."
The Umbridge placed their hand atop mine, their stringy lips twitching to form a teeth-bearing smile. "The evil within you still remains; it always has. Just because you outed its most prominent source doesn't mean it's completely gone."
"I know, I know..." I looked back down at the potion, sighing softly. I wasn't going to pledge my allegiance to its will—or pledge my body, mind, and soul to any evil existence. I may have evil within my body, but I refuse to let it surface if it means I can get home.
I once said I'll defy those evil deities, so I'm honestly glad they're watching me do this.
With a large, hesitant gulp, the scorching potion gushed down my throat. At first, it was excruciating, but gradually it calmed down. I remembered that the Blood-Moon Charm's spiritual and physical effects were embedded within the potion, granting me immunity in many aspects. Also, wouldn't that Whisper-wishing Bone grant me the ability to converse with spirits for a short period of time?
As I finished the half-empty bottle, I stumbled back and grasped my throat, which had begun to sting and burn slightly. It was exactly like eating a pizza that just came out of the oven—that exact sensation.
It hurt.
A lot.