The relentless march through the Perennial Forest had taken its toll. Hours melted into a hazy blur of twisting branches, humid air, and whispering leaves that flirted like they were keeping secrets. Thirst gnawed at their throats, and weariness clung to their limbs like moss. Finally, they stumbled upon a sight that offered both respite and a chilling surprise: a cascading waterfall, its water crystal-clear and beckoning like a siren's song.
They collapsed near the pool at the base of the falls. The cool mist licked their skin, a soft contrast to the sweat clinging to their clothes. Dolly, surprisingly subdued after her emotional breakdown in the realm of lost things, sat quietly, cradling her chipped arm like a wounded pride. Antic, ever the chaotic little menace, stripped off his boots, then the straps to his overalls to No Eyes' immediate disapproval—and splashed into the shallows, water droplets catching sunlight as they slid down his iridescent chest.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Antic's whole overalls followed soon after, his logic being something along the lines of "wet pants are a curse."
Dolly shrieked and immediately covered her porcelain eyes. "PUT THAT THING AWAY! You absolute pond goblin!"
Antic froze, water dripping off his shimmering skin as a single twig strategically failed to hide anything at all. "It's NATURAL!" he shouted defensively, cheeks now glowing redder than a strawberry in shame.
No Eyes, as always, was unbothered. "You get nosebleeds when a breath hits you, and this is what you're embarrassed about?" Her gaze flicked down for the briefest second—scientific, detached, mildly judging. "Is it… always like that when you're flustered?"
Antic went crimson. "N-NO! I mean—YES—NO—It's just—It's cold water!"
Dolly screeched from behind a boulder. "I SWEAR TO THE PORCELAIN GODS IF I SEE ONE MORE ANGLE OF YOUR SPARKLY DING-A-LING I'M THROWING MYSELF INTO THE RIVER AND TAKING YOU WITH ME!"
Antic clapped both hands over his face, a thin stream of blood escaping one nostril. "SHUT UP I'M UNDER STRESS."
nOt eVEN A SEcOnD lATeR.....
"Come on in, No Eyes," he called, stretching like a cat who definitely knew he was being watched. "Unless you're afraid you'll melt in front of all this raw, unfiltered sex appeal."
No Eyes raised an eyebrow. "If I could see, I'd still choose blindness."
Dolly choked on a laugh.
Antic clutched his chest, mock-wounded. "So cruel. And yet... so hot. Why is this my type?"
She didn't answer. But something in her shifted. A quiet stillness, an anticipation that made the air hum. This wasn't just exhaustion. It was the edge of something—change, maybe. Or revelation. Or both.
As they drank from the pool, a deep, melancholic sigh echoed from the trees. It rolled like thunder wrapped in grief. They looked up. A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, gaunt, draped in midnight-colored fabric that didn't so much hang as haunt.
It was Grin. A reformed Grim Reaper.
He stood staring at the water, murmuring to himself. "...should've helped her more… should've…"
Antic's feathered ears flattened. His good mood fled like a virgin at a demon orgy. "Well, isn't that the cheery bastard," he muttered. "Death himself. Just what we needed."
No Eyes tilted her head, listening. There was sorrow in Grin's posture. A deep ache buried in that stillness. Not scary. Just… ruined.
Grin turned. His amethyst eyes blinked at them, then widened. Not in menace. In embarrassment.
"I... I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he said, his voice a low, broken instrument. He ran a shaky hand through his long, tangled hair. "I come here to think."
Dolly tilted her head. "Think and stare dramatically into the abyss? Classic brooding. What's your name, stranger?"
Grin hesitated, then gave a ghost of a smile. "They call me Grin."
Antic raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like a Grin. More like a Grim."
Dolly smacked him
Antics face banged on the hardened soil.
''AAH'' he squirmed
Grin chuckled once, the sound dry. "That was the joke. Back when I still had humor. They used to call me Grim. After I defied the order... well, I smiled once. One last time before exile. They started calling me Grin after that. Mocking me, mostly."
No Eyes' voice was soft. "But you kept the name."
"I kept the smile," he said simply, and for a moment, he did.
Then the moment vanished, like breath on glass.
Grin's voice cracked like old wood. "My mistakes. The lives I took. I used to be cruel. I reveled in the final moment. But… then came the fire. A child. I didn't take her. I watched."
Antic stood back up, legs limp. "You watched?"
Grin nodded slowly. "I broke my oath. For mercy. They banished me."
No Eyes didn't move. She studied his face—the weight of it. Then reached forward, her hand brushing his forehead.
Grin shuddered. And suddenly her mind wasn't hers—it was his.
Flames. Screams. A girl's eyes, wide and wet. And Grin, helpless. Horrified. Human.
She pulled back, breath shallow. "You weren't cold," she whispered. "You were frozen. Different."
Grin blinked. And smiled—barely. But it was there.
"I don't know why you did that," he said. "But thank you. It's the first time I've felt… less alone."
No Eyes nodded. "I've felt that too. When I find out who I am—what I am—I'll help you find where you belong."
Grin's lips parted. "You'd do that?"
"I would."
Antic squinted. "Well, hell, that was intimate. Are we adding a sad emo man to the party now?"
Grin looked startled. Dolly looked amused.
No Eyes just said, "Yes."
And so the alliance was forged: a blind girl with no past, a sarcastic creature who bled from the nose when flustered, a cursed porcelain doll, and a reaper who forgot how to be Death.
As the waterfall mist curled around them, Grin exhaled. "Do I… camp with you?"
Antic groaned. "You snore, I swear to gods, I'm throwing you in the river."
No Eyes tilted her head. "Only if he bathes first."
Grin looked down at his robe. "That… might be overdue."
Dolly rolled her eyes. "Boys."
They laughed, even Antic, and the fire cracked, and for a moment—just a moment—they weren't lost.
The forest deepened, the trees growing taller and their branches intertwining to form a dense, almost impenetrable canopy. The air grew colder, a damp chill clinging to their skin. Antic shivered, his usually vibrant plumage subdued, fluffing up like a wet peacock with trust issues. Dolly, unfazed, strode ahead like a woman on a mission to prove that fear and porcelain were mutually exclusive. Grin, however, seemed oddly alert, his amethyst eyes scanning the surroundings with an almost predatory focus.
"There," Grin whispered, pointing a bony finger towards a barely-there gap between two ancient oaks. "The gate."
The sliver of darkness pulsed faintly, like the forest's hidden heartbeat. As they approached, the air thickened, buzzing low and sweet like a forbidden melody.
"It's… alive," Antic murmured, eyes wide and nose bleeding ever so slightly as the energy tickled something primal in him.
They stepped through the gap. The forest fell away, replaced by a breathtaking castle perched high upon a cliff, its opalescent walls shimmering with every color imaginable and several that weren't.
Before they could marvel, they were surrounded. Guards clad in obsidian armor materialized, swift and silent, binding them in shimmering cuffs that hummed with quiet menace.
"These cuffs are definitely not a kink thing, right?" Antic whispered. No Eyes elbowed him. Hard.
The guards marched them through elegant corridors, walls lined with floating books, singing candles, and one very judgmental portrait that seemed to be glaring directly at Dolly.
They were brought before Queen Sentient—draped in robes of moonlight, hair like liquid silver, eyes fathomless and ancient. She reclined on a throne spun from literal starlight.
"So, the unlikely quartet arrives," she said. Her voice carried centuries, but still managed to sound amused. "Fate, it seems, enjoys irony."
Antic smiled crookedly. "Fate has taste. Especially in cuffs."
The Queen chuckled like bells on ice. "Impudent. I like that."
Her eyes turned to No Eyes. "Child of Ennui. You see beyond the veil. You feel what others ignore. The Breaths call to you for a reason."
No Eyes stood straighter, her breath catching. So she wasn't broken. She was built differently.
"The Breaths are unraveling," the Queen continued. "Their sorrow disrupts the balance between realms. Only you can restore harmony."
Antic leaned in. "So basically... she's the chosen one and I'm the sexy comic relief?"
"If the boot fits," Dolly muttered.
The Queen's voice darkened. "The song of the Breaths is powerful. A darkness within your family line seeks to distort it. Your blindness, your very being—are bound to that corruption."
Antic blinked. "So, wait. She's not just blind—she's magically blind? Hot."
Dolly whispered, "Is this like when a doll breaks so deep you can never quite glue her right again?"
The Queen smiled gently. "The cracks tell a story. But yes. Some stories are harder to retell."
Grin's jaw clenched, but his nod was solemn. There was history in his silence.
Later, at a royal feast, Antic flirted with the cutlery. A guard batted his hand away every time he attempted to pocket something shiny.
Dolly leaned in toward the Queen. "Can something shattered ever really be whole again?"
"Not the same," the Queen said softly, squeezing her hand. "But sometimes... better."
Grin sat quietly, wine in hand, a faint peace glimmering in his eyes.
That night, their beds were soft, their bones aching with rest. For the first time in forever, none of them had to fight to sleep.
But before sleep claimed them, in the silvery glow of their shared chamber, Antic padded up to No Eyes' bed, shirt half-buttoned, iridescent skin catching moonlight like temptation.
"So," he said, voice a low purr, "this whole 'chosen one' thing... does it come with benefits? Like... late-night strategy meetings?"
No Eyes arched an eyebrow. "Is this another one of your strategies for a nosebleed?"
He grinned. "Only if you promise not to stop me."
She turned away, smile ghosting her lips. "Goodnight, Antic."
His breath caught for a second—then the nosebleed hit. Again.
He hissed and stumbled back. Dolly's voice pierced the calm from the next bed: "IF I SEE EVEN A DROP ON MY PILLOW I SWEAR TO THE FOREST—"
Antic stuffed a handkerchief up his nose. "You people are so touchy."
No Eyes whispered to herself, the stars gleaming just outside the window, "Why does that idiot make my chest ache...?"
The Queen's warning echoed in her memory: The shadows of your past will not stay buried.
And so, they slept.
Together. Apart. Threaded by fate.
Morning arose, golden light spilling through silk-draped windows like honey dripping from the sky. The opulent breakfast was a borderline erotic affair—pastries that shimmered like captured rainbows, fruit that tasted of forgotten summers, and drinks so sweetly sinful they felt illegal. Antic moaned into a mango tart like it owed him rent.
The Queen Sentient, having excused herself with the grace of a goddess and the vague air of someone hiding something juicy, left them with a cryptic little farewell: "Seek out the Soul Keeper. He holds the key to unlocking the true potential within you."
Antic, restless as ever, was now bent over the breakfast table attempting to fashion a tiny crown from an apricot pit and a butter knife. "Your Majesty, behold my sexy reign," he announced, placing the thing on his head with dramatic flair.
"You're not even wearing pants," Dolly muttered from her velvet perch, her doll eyes narrowed in judgment. "All hail the Fruit King of Horny Idiots."
Grin, however, remained quiet. He wasn't brooding—he was meditating in that emo-boy, 300-year-old-ghost way. One finger to his temple. Deep sighs. Total drama.
Following the Queen's lead, Pecola found the Soul Keeper's tower looming above the cliff like it belonged to a villain with a tragic backstory. Unlike the opalescent castle, this tower was full goth: black granite, cold wind, ancient vines clinging like long-forgotten secrets.
Inside stood the Soul Keeper—a tall, unsettlingly hot figure in midnight robes. He radiated control. Power. Trauma. His skin shimmered like stormlight, and what little could be seen beneath the hood was sharp—fanged-sharp. Handsome in a terrifying way. Like someone who definitely didn't believe in casual conversation.
"You have been summoned," he said, his voice low and steady. It didn't ask for respect. It assumed it.
Pecola bowed slightly. "The Queen said you could help me… understand."
"She speaks truth." He extended a hand—long fingers, inky skin, calloused and beautiful. "But knowledge demands sacrifice. You must train until your body forgets comfort."
He led her outside to a training ground that pulsed with unseen energy.
"Close your eyes," he murmured. "Feel everything. The sorrow in the air. The mourning in the soil. Let the forest's pain speak."
Pecola did. Her lips parted. A whisper caught in her throat. "I feel something. Sorrow. And... something worse."
"Fear," the Keeper said. "Poisoned sorrow. Tainted Breaths. Again."
Training turned brutal. Days blurred. Antic sat on a tree branch during practice, offering unsolicited comments like: "That energy whip was hot. Less screamy, more glowy next time."
"Antic, shut up before I vaporize you," Pecola growled, sweat glistening down her neck. His nose promptly bled.
"Stop being so aggressively powerful then! I have sensitive sinuses!"
The Soul Keeper ignored their bickering. He pushed her harder. Spectral blades, mental links, past-life visions. Each night she collapsed into dreams drenched in flames and voices.
One night, she sat trembling, drenched in sweat, eyes shut. "A child. A woman. They're calling to me. I think I knew them."
"Fragments," the Keeper said. "They return when your soul is strong enough."
Eventually, she created a full shield of swirling light. Controlled it. Her breath hitched. "I can feel their hope. And their pain."
"And you can help," he finished.
Later, he gathered them—Antic, Dolly, Grin. The moon high, the wind cold.
"The entity," he said, "feeds on discord. Every soul trapped strengthens it. It is not content with survival. It wants eternity."
Antic stopped mid-nose-pick. "Okay, that's horrifying."
Dolly nodded slowly. "So, we're fighting trauma incarnate. Cool. Cool cool cool."
The Soul Keeper turned to Pecola. His voice dropped. "Your blindness… it's not absence. It's containment. The orb linked to you can either sever the curse or empower the enemy."
"So I'm either the cure… or the apocalypse," she whispered.
"Essentially," he said, with all the comfort of a gravestone. "Victory will demand unity. And loss."
He gestured toward the exit. "Go. Your path begins where your fear lies."
Pecola stood, trembling but firm. Antic slipped beside her, brushing her arm. "If he gives you any trouble, I'll seduce him with jokes and partial nudity."
"Please don't," Grin muttered.
"Seconded," Dolly said, crossing her arms.
The Soul Keeper didn't react. Probably used to weirdos. But as Pecola stepped into the night air, her heart burned—not with fear. With fire.
The Soul Keeper's granite tower receded behind them, swallowed by the swirling mists that clung to the cliffside like a silk scarf dragged through ink. Before them stretched the Perennial Forest, its ancient trees looming like voyeurs of secrets untold, their branches braiding overhead to blot out the sky. The air buzzed with an eerie thrum—the trapped Breaths singing their eternal chorus of longing, heartbreak, and forgotten orgasms. (Well, maybe not that last one. But it felt that intense.)
Antic bounced on the balls of his feet, fingers toying with the ever-loyal apricot-pit crown like it was a stress ball forged by drama. "Crystal Caverns," he muttered. "Sounds... sparkly. And like the perfect place to die fabulously."
Dolly, arms crossed on Grin's shoulder like a judgmental gargoyle, narrowed her porcelain eyes. "Perilous is an understatement. That place? It's a trauma scrapbook."
Even Grin, who usually managed at least one morbid quip per minute, was eerily quiet, his scythe strapped tight to his back. The tension was real—like pre-prom-date awkward, but with demons.
"The forest holds secrets older than time," Grin murmured, eyes darkening. "And they bite."
"Ready?" Antic whispered, eyes gleaming as he gestured dramatically to a narrow, shadow-choked path.
Pecola stepped forward, her foot crunching a brittle twig that practically screamed ominous foreshadowing. Behind her, Grin's looming shadow watched silently. Her skin thrummed. The Breaths stirred beneath her flesh like wind tracing her bones.
Dolly muttered, "They remember."
"They whisper," Grin added.
"They smell weird," Antic said, sniffing the air. "Like existential dread and burnt caramel."
One by one, they entered the dark.
The forest twisted. Grew teeth. Luminous fungi pulsed along the bark like nature's rave glowsticks. Transparent bugs fluttered with stained-glass wings. Eyes—dozens of them—watched from the black.
Pecola stilled. "Did you hear her? The girl. Starving herself?"
Dolly's voice sharpened like a dagger. "Aye. And the boy with bruises. This forest? It's a haunted therapy session."
Grin nodded, his voice low. "We must keep going. Their stories need endings."
The ground gave way. The forest birthed a ravine. Pecola gasped, almost tumbling forward.
"GRIN!"
He was already moving. Scythe out, cleaving a clean path across the chasm. "RUN!"
Antic, now sweating profusely, clutched his nose. "I-I can't tell if I'm panicking or turned on."
A red trickle appeared. Nosebleed. Again.
"Definitely both," Dolly deadpanned.
Somewhere in the confusion, Pecola touched his arm. He nearly fainted.
Later, they found themselves undercover. A high school cafeteria. Cafeteria food: same across all timelines—gross and emotional.
Pecola approached a lonely boy. Her hand brushed his shoulder—gentle, quiet magic. His chest seemed to lift, his breath steadied. She said nothing, just moved on.
Another boy watched her go. Starstruck. Spellbound.
"I…" Pecola started.
Antic's hand touched hers. His grin had softened, dimmed. "Remember the mission. Their healing first. Ours... later."
She nodded. It hurt. But she nodded.
As they walked, the Breaths began to lighten. Their pain lessened. Something shifted. Hope fluttered.
Finally, they reached the Crystal Caverns.
Waterfalls fell like liquid light, hiding a yawning darkness beneath. The entrance pulsed like a heartbeat.
Here, everything would change.