Nora had known the results of the battle as soon as her fingers curled around the blade's hilt, heated by the ground that couldn't warm her human skin. The bubbling red lava in the cracks was an illusion that only reached the knives.
She'd fought to her best ability, no doubt. The rivers of running blood told so, and the scars and bruises across her pale skin, prone to discolouration.
She stabbed her blade forth, feeling it sink into Sylvia's soft flesh. The other didn't flinch.
Nora slipped sideways, ducking past the woman's deadly punch, eyes wide as she saw strands of her hair flutter to the ground, severed.
Sylvia's fist connected with her stomach, and she gasped, coughing as she jerked away. She attempted to use the momentum to haul the other closer, driving the knife near Sylvia's neck. She missed.
Sylvia had battle instilled in her bones from a past that Nora didn't know. She fought like the wind, a sharp speed that made her appear and disappear, merciless, slicing swipes performed without hesitation.
The woman had spun in the air, and it was no battle. It was a slaughter. But in a way, it showed Sylvia's deepest respect.
To fight her best against an opponent she respected.
Nora jabbed the blade out, feeling her breath leave her lungs in a wretched gasp. The ground was swept under her feet, and she fell backwards.
Her head connected with a painful, loud thunk, and her mind spun as Sylvia whirled and straddled her legs over Nora's stomach, holding the blade to her neck. Funny how breathless Nora was, and how Sylvia stared calmly with cold, seeing eyes.
"I apologize, it had to end this way. Master wouldn't be pleased either."
Nora laughed bitterly as her eyes curled. She wasn't really sure what she felt—regret in her lacking abilities? Sorrow that she wouldn't see her brother's illusion again?
"Why do you refer to him as Master?" asked the woman at last, smiling gently. "I've been wondering, but I thought it would be rude to ask."
Sylvia tilted her head, golden curls spilling over her shoulders, as if mimicking the mane of a lioness. "Because he's the one I serve, and have sworn my life to. Because I live for his sake. Doesn't the term 'Master' suit that?"
Nora fell silent, her blood coating the black stone in a deep red. "I see. I guess that makes sense. Will you kill me swiftly?"
"I intended to."
"Thank you," said Nora, a mixture of dread and calm forming a strange concoction in her chest. "I'm pretty scared, so keep talking, please. Kill me when I don't expect it."
Nora relaxed her shoulders when Sylvia nodded, attempting to think about anything but death. She didn't want to die scared, powerless, weak. Even if that was all she was.
She supposed she would regret not calling Wren, whose lips left a mark on her wrist that had been left uncalled for. There was something about being around Wren, casual and carefree as she often behaved, that was relaxing.
As if they weren't stuck in a death game, as if everybody they knew might not be dead.
Wren often liked making flirtatious jokes or sardonic remarks to Lucas, who didn't care enough to be offended, and allowed her to continue.
Nora hadn't known her for long, really, but time was an odd thing that felt long in the present and short in the past.
"Will you regret it?" spoke Sylvia, her occasional comments an attempt at conversation.
"Regret what?"
"Not calling for help."
"It's a little late for that. Also, please don't remind me about losing. It'll remind me of death." Nora sighed, revealing a rare look of complaint.
Sylvia raked back her wild hair. The knife dug a little deeper, drawing a little more blood. "I'll kill you within the next 10 minutes."
Nora looked at her in exasperation, her lips curling into a wry smile. "Thank you for the warning."
Then, as she closed her eyes to ready herself for the emptiness death would bring, an alarm blared over their heads, causing both to fling their hands to their ears.
Nora pulled away from her ears reluctantly, confusion forming on her face. She recalled Lucas' words, his warning before she'd disappeared in a pile of ashes, not to attempt any alternative ways of leaving this 'game'.
Yet she parted her lips and asked, "What deal?"
"Nora." Sylvia's smooth voice was tight and alert. "It isn't wise. It may be more merciful if you die at my hands than at their tricks."
Nora stared in a daze before shaking her head. "Maybe you're right. But... you're going to kill me, Sylvia, and this is a chance to live. All I know is that I will live at least another second, and a second is an opportunity."
Sylvia regarded her with her cool, unwavering stare and swung her legs away. Nora smiled gratefully and tilted her head to the ceiling.
"I'll accept your deal, Teller."
As Nora's eyes widened and dark realization spread over Sylvia's beautiful face, the space around them folded in like an envelope. Within moments, they were before Lucas, Kane, and Elias.
Lucas noticed them first, his eyes taking notice of the emotions written on their face. He stared and said slowly,
"You made a deal with the Teller."
Sylvia cast the group an observing glance before shifting to the shadows to spectate, returning to her role as a watcher. The woman crossed her arms, and Nora met her gaze that seemed to say, you made the wrong choice.
Lucas didn't reprimand her, aware there was likely no other choice. There was no scolding he could make that would alter the past.
He closed his eyes and accepted it, in the quiet way he accepted and thought about most things, and asked, "What was the cost?"
"My—"
The ground shook again with a violent tremor, similar to the one that had ripped through the kitchen to signal the gates' appearance. The group stumbled, and somebody slammed past between them.
Lucas met the frenzied and wild gaze of a round-faced man, a laceration across his cheeks, and blood soaking his entire body.
"What are you—"
"Run!" hissed the man, snatching himself away as he kicked off into another sprint. "The red moon is full tonight! Run, or face punishments for your sins!"
The man didn't wait for any other questions, scrambling as he pounded door to door until the skin of his knuckles peeled and frayed. Despair hunched his body as he sobbed bitterly.
"Lucas," breathed Nora, staring at a cluster of white, wriggling maggots squeezing out of the cracks along the streets.
They crowded over the drops of blood, plump bodies coming in hundreds. Kane looked as if he would be sick, spinning to look away and staring at Lucas as if tempted to turn his sibling's head away, too.
"We need to get inside somewhere," said Lucas, kicking a maggot that wriggled closer. "Don't bother knocking—smash it open."
Kane furrowed his eyebrows, an expression that made him appear similar to Lucas. "Let's not be hasty. There must be a reason why that man didn't try to break inside."
"There's likely something even more terrifying inside."
"Then we should—"
"There's no time to think or wait. You'll stay here and get 'punished', or go inside and fight whatever is inside. Decide."
As Kane was debating through a strained expression, Elias smiled and grabbed Lucas' wrist, earning a look of surprise and also suspicion. He ignored it and dragged him towards the nearest house.
Raising his long leg in the air, he slammed it against the glass window, shattering it in seconds. Hopping inside, he offered a hand to Lucas.
"Inside or outside, darling? I'll follow you wherever you go."
Lucas sneered. "We're already in hell."
Elias' sly smile stretched further. "Then I'll follow you even deeper."
With a reluctant sigh, Lucas swatted the hand away and swung his legs over, avoiding the shards of glass. He'd intended to go inside anyway, with the wriggling maggots in filth, and the ominous red moon high above.
The frantic man had been looking for an invitation inside a house, and they'd broken in—another mark of sinning, of breaking and entering.
The entire space was an expanse of unpolluted white, the walls' smooth curves polished to a shine, with matching floors that felt cold to the touch. It was some odd mix of a common house and a shrine of sorts.
Smeared near them were blood and filth dragged inside by their bodies, polluting the pristine grounds.
Then, two bodies flung beside them, crouching down. Lucas glanced over at Kane, still conflicted, and Nora, worriedly peering around inside. Sylvia was nowhere in sight, but he hadn't expected her to remain with them for too long.
As long as she found them at some point, it wouldn't go against the agreement Alastair had made.
A patter of noise echoed through the house. A dragging sound that scratched their ears and made their hair stand on end. A rattle of thick, heavy chains that clunked against objects.
Lucas recalled the Punisher, a distant past of murder done by his own body, but not his mind. The Punisher, also a victim of the Story, forced to kill over and over again.
Then, he felt a sharp pull as something left his body, the presence of another escaping from his mind. Lucas frowned as he heard the chains rattle and jerk violently, then drop with a thud.
Nora flinched, shaking slightly. She'd barely escaped death, and now she was facing it again. It really wasn't something easy to get used to.
Kane stood slowly, moving toward the arch that peeked into a kitchen-like area, taking to the forefront protectively.
Elias remained crouched, like a lazy predator observing with a disinterest, more curious about Lucas' next actions. worst-case scenario, he'd step in and toss Lucas to a different house, to a different danger to survive.
A rattle sounded deep inside the house, devoid of light.
Then a faint footstep made the wood creak noisily, loud in their silence.
Three figures watched the archway with trepidation, rigidly gripping their weapons of choice. With a bright burst, the lights flickered on, and a shadow appeared.
Nora flung up her gun, and Kane raised his fists with two scalpels wedged between his fingers. Lucas blinked and then frowned with exasperation.
In the doorway, a tall and youthful woman waved carelessly, chewing on an apple.
"You're so welcome, by the way," grinned Wren, though her eyes deepened knowingly when they raked Nora. "That dude was majorly creepy."
"You killed it."
"Yes, I'm glad you're adapting to familiar terminology, Lucas. I definitely killed it, I rocked it, I—"
"I mean, you killed whatever creature was there."
Wren flashed a smile and gestured to her side. "Want to take a look?"
Lucas nodded, holding up a hand to stop the others from approaching, lest there be a gruesome sight. Not that it stopped Elias, who trailed after like a parasite, leeching onto Lucas.
On the ground, splatters of blue blood smeared across the marble flooring, and a creature lay on the ground. It was a mangled thing, with twig-like limbs jutting in different directions and an open chest, ribs cracked and on display.
There was a pair of severed hands, the thumbs stabbed through the sockets of its eyes, where they remained dangling, clutching the humanoid creature's hollow cheeks.
Wren poked her head around the wall. "I didn't mutilate it, by the way. It appeared like that. The blood isn't entirely my doing."
"What are these?" Lucas crouched beside the protruding ribs.
"I'd assume they were once humans, like you. Perhaps it's a punishment to live with a conscious mind with irreversible abuse on your body. To become part of the Story, terrorizing those who break in to hide from whatever's outside."
Elias had lowered himself calmly, unbothered by the horrific sight. With a glass shard, he poked at the bone. It squished in the mass of flesh and exposed organs.
His explanation was reasonable, as most of them seemed to be after entering the Story. He'd dropped a part of his mysterious facade, revealing hints that not only exposed the Story but also himself.
But his secrets didn't matter if everybody was dead. More specifically, if a particular sponge he'd just coerced died.
Kane appeared at the archway, leaning against the frame grimly. He'd listened to their conversations, wondering what sadistic pleasure the Story could receive from such a thing.
Nora stood near, but didn't dare to look, understanding the limits of what she could handle. Wren had walked over, offering a lopsided smile.
"It'll be alright," said Wren, with a confident spark.
Nora returned the smile softly. "I'm sorry for not summoning you."
"What you did is dangerous, deadly. The next ranking is coming soon, Nora." Wren's smile faded, a wrinkle between her eyebrows. "And in the next, you'll disappear if you don't have one. I can't help you with that. I really can't."
"I thought so," said Nora faintly. "But I had no other choice."
"You should've summoned—"
"I am sorry that I didn't, but I don't regret it."
"Nora," exhaled Wren, raking her fingers through the tangles of her dyed raven hair. "Time here runs differently. I don't know how long you have."
"I'll try my best to find a solution. Thank you for worrying, Wren."
Wren opened her mouth to retort, to make another comment on the stupidity of Nora's choices. She was tired of seeing people dying, especially women like Nora.
However, when she glanced over at the side, she met Lucas' steely, cold gaze as he shook his head lightly. As if reminding her that arguing would do nothing to change what had already occurred.
Screams rippled outside, jolting Nora. She slumped to the ground tiredly, leaning against the wall. Kane abandoned the corpse, peering out the window.
Under the red moonlight, clowns danced across the ground in a masterful spectacle, their curved silver blades gleaming, slicked with blood.
A curved smile was painted onto their face, dragged impossibly high as they moved like puppets on a string, jerking movements that settled into elegance, before jerking towards their next victim.
Humans, battered and filthy, banged on doors that wouldn't open as they wailed. A symphony of misery and terror ghosted across Tartarus' imprisoned skies.
Across, in another bone-white house, somebody smashed through the window as they had. They climbed in as glass shards dug into their skin, before freezing halfway through.
A shadow, lumbering tall and skinny, tilted towards them. The man screamed, hurriedly trying to escape back outside, but the shadow stretched out a long, floppy hand and shoved the body further into the glass. Onto a jagged triangle piece.
A bubble of sobbing sounded before the shard impaled his stomach, and he drooped limply through the window.
Wren had knelt by Nora's side, covering the woman's ears from the sounds that continued to tear through the air. Lucas was standing now, staring directly at Kane.
"Don't watch," said the man, a profound sadness buried in his gaze. "It's better for you not to see. This is the normal here."
"Common," corrected Kane, striding forward with a deep sigh. "Not normal."
He leaned against the archway and brought his fingers to his face, closing his eyes as his ears continued to listen to the musical echo of screams.
This was Tartarus.