A Dance With The Devil

Third

The fireflies were moving stars. Like children they frolicked, but softly as well, seeming gentle and welcome for anypony’s touch. The bunch moved to be embraced by the trees, bedazzling many outlines of trunks and branches. All leaves everywhere looked sable. Everything he saw was, really.

Light tossed away the rubble on his hair and fixed his person. He looked everywhere to find a way in the satin darkness, shiny and black. The pegasus was unhurt, but that was a concern not. The explosion had done not a thing, it seemed, and he breathed to himself many times before he trudged into an even deeper forest.

Every slightest movement and pindrop-esque tap made the little pony in his head jump and hit the ceiling of his skull, furthering him into insanity. There were no crickets or owls or any living being save the fireflies and him, and he secretly wished against himself that there were more animals, notwithstanding their savageness and beastly nature. He wanted not to be alone.

But I amn’t. I have the fireflies. They’re my companions. You’ll be fine, Light, you’ll be fine.

He heard a restful streaming of water. And even when clear not, with the help of some fireflies, the touch of the moon, and a stroke of luck, he saw the spring of water. The rocks and moss wrapped around it perfectly, the moving of the water a pleasant sight to the eyes. His rump met the velvety earth. The world around him was without sound, noise, chaos, and with the stream of the water, he felt a little safer. Light practically melted into nature’s carpet.

He smiled at the sight of it. In front of him was a firefly. It looked smaller than the rest and flitted around more calmly too. He held out a balmy hoof, expecting it to fly away. To his surprise, it landed on it with a fast swoop. He imagined it to be smiling happily. Light liked to think of it like that.

“Hey there,” he cooed to it, and in response the little bug brightened. He laughed, hushed, taking his time to appreciate the small thing. The pegasus grew silent then, and the bug and he stared at each other’s gazes, its wings buzzing inquisitively. How wonderful it was, this bug, this little creature, this innocent, little creature.

It spread its wings outward and flew upwards, leaving him be.

He stood, watching the light speck dissipate into the dark. Light didn’t want it to go, no, he wanted it to stay here, just staring into its perfect gaze, its light, its warmth, its mere presence. The pegasus extended his wings, ready for flight, but never taking off. He just stayed there, helpless. The light of it died out, washed away.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, but he knew it would not come back.

There was a ruffle behind him. He turned around to see the mare, the very same mare he mysteriously met. Her eyes appeared to be red, as if she cried, and she was still. She looked him right in the soul. Her mane was thrown to her back, and she was littered with dirt and filth, a twig stuck in her hair. Her head twisted a slight tad, her features softening the slightest. She turned and left.

“Wait!” he called out, reaching for her. He was incredulous. The mare listened not, never turning back. “Come back!”

He stuck out his wings, flapping them and going after her. The lofty canopy of the rainforest was still thick of vine and twigs, and he tried maneuver around them as quickly as he can. A shadow below he saw, similar to the mare’s outline. This was his chance. A moment he chanced upon. He swooped down, but before he could tackle her, she tripped. The mare tumbled, rolling down a small depression, a bedlam, crashing down into a bed of soil and rocks.

Light landed at the scene, terrified. “I—I’m sorry! O—oh look at you! I—I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll make you feel better. Don’t worry.” The pegasus shot off, looking for a particular herb. He returned to the stream where he swore he saw several; it was purple and tall. Light plucked the lengthy leaves and wrapped them around her body, also taking this time to gently clean her. She had more bruises than he thought, and when he was done her body had been wrapped hoof to head.

He placed the mare by a trunk of a tree, a comfortable looking niche. Light put a bunch of leaves under her head to act as a pillow, a cushion. He breathed. Light looked at her once more before starting a bonfire. It was hard not to make one, in fact: a circle of rocks, twigs, dry leaves, wood as fuel, and a bow drill to start fire. Not long after, Light had a flame, and he quickly tossed the stick to the side. And after that he sat. He allowed himself the luxury of facing the mare on the other side of the fire.

Light could see her sleeping through the burning of flames, of which smelled badly. He minded not, though, because that truly didn’t matter to him. That mare. That mare had appeared out of nowhere. It was like she was from the past: her speech, her memories, everything. He wondered what she would say when she woke up, what would she have done—who she truly is.

“It’s going to be alright,” Light croaked, sure not if it was to him or the mare. “It’s going to be.”

He wondered about Death, about Auriga, about Twilight. He wondered where Auriga was now, and if he would ever see him again. He wondered what Twilight was doing, what she and her group of eccentric friends are doing. And he wondered what Death had in store for him, if she even had a plan for him at all, or if she would just let him die so that nopony ever has to know what truly happened that day.

This little piece of world—with the mare fast asleep and fireflies gone—felt like his own. Like this was all for him to enjoy, take in. And that . . . that was kind of nice . . . He smiled. Light saw a flower beside him; it was blue. Blue. Blue was rare in nature, he knew—only a few of all animals known made an actual blue pigment. He was bored, so he took a hold of it. He twirled it around, here and there, taking notice of the fragile edges.

A light crackle of the fire soothed him, and he decided to start on the flower with a tiny bite. Delicious. Nibble by nibble, little by little, in the shroud of the fire’s warmth, he wondered not what would happen now, but wondered what was happening at this exact moment, right here, for that was the only thing that mattered to him at the moment.

Her closed eyelids flinched, and they opened. They were lazy and tired, but nonetheless tried to concentrate. The mare gave a sidelong glance of her wounds, finding them cleaned and wrapped up. She found him, then she went back to her tender bruises and cuts. Her breathing merged wonderfully with the crackle of fire, and all other things were put in the background at the moment.

She seemed to refuse of something, because she shook her head in clear regret. “You healed me,” said she, lifting slightly the limbs with her wounds.

Lightning Glare nodded. “Yes, I did.”

The mare avoided the sight of him, it seemed, and her ears were flat, her mouth a straight line. She then frowned to herself. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why had you healed me?”

“I . . . just wanted to help, that’s all. I couldn’t leave you out there.”

“But you could have.”

“I guess I could have, yeah.”

“But you did it not.”

The pegasus made a motion with his head. “Like I said: I wanted to help.”

The mare looked at something else, slowly nodding to herself and whispering things that drowned in the fire’s noise. Tired yet concerned was what he perceived of her expression, and maybe she felt like she hasn’t a clue what to feel. He understood that feeling.

“What . . . what’s your name?” Lightning Glare brought up, having decided that he needed it.

Her malaise cheeks pressed in discomfort. The mare’s head turned away a tad. “Already had I told you. I know not of it.”

“If you don’t know your name . . . then how can you remember the princess inviting you to the temple? And the painting you mentioned? How can you remember that and not your own name?”

The mare was struck with a lightning of terror. She faltered inarticulately. “I—I . . . argh! That does not matter, damn you. You need not know of it!” she roared, struggling in her bonds. She spun and rolled, attempting to wiggle out. Light came and pushed her back to her niche when she went what he felt was too far.

He raised his hooves in frank acceptance. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? But you need to stay here; I can’t let you go just yet.”

“Why not?!”

“Look at yourself; you’re injured. Please, I won’t ask of your name again if you don’t want to; I won’t. Just stay here and be safe.”

The mare gave him a big frown. She huffed at that and nickered indignantly after a short, slight struggle. She slumped on the trunk in trounce. He gave her an empathetic smile before settling back down in his spot. She pouted at the sight of his face. “This is not over, hear me? Mark my words!”

The pegasus listened not: he seemed to be, but not really; he was on something else. They had a staring contest for a few minutes, no clear winner in sight. Flaura gave him a death stare, getting more and more intense until he knew she would break. Steam boiled from her ears. She sighed, curdling in a ball to the ground. She stared off into a rock, blank eyes digging deep into its features, unmoving, trance like. Light stood, glancing at her once more, then trekking out into the thick.

A while it had lasted, but he finally found the stream. He was getting thirsty, so he came right down to drink from it. Pure as water can be, he noted. Light sat his rump down on the same spot once more, and he took a quiet moment for himself. The forest had silhouettes of trees that shot out hauntingly, albeit under the light they were not so bad. Beautiful, even. The reflection of the water shined white in a black canvas, several stones underneath poking out to feel the cool, draughty air. In the reflection, he saw himself. That stallion.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled sadly. “I’m . . .”

★★★★★★★★★

Orbs flew upwards around her, but some of them were spiraling out of control.

There was a saying that a storm’s centre was of peace, whilst the edges spun in great speeds, but this storm seemed the opposite. The large twirl spiraled many orbs downwards, sucking them into a large tear in the fabric of the realm. They came shooting out another opening, and in they went and repeated. The backdrop was a lake of shades of munsel and mauve and midnight blue, twisting and mingling with one another to birth millions of stars.

An orb flew up near Twilight’s face; Rainbow Dash’s dream. Everything seemed normal in the standards of the realm; she was in a race with a flying pizza slice, deftly winning. She had a smirk of a champion. Through the orb had cracks on it, and its colour was a washed out version of what it should be; black and white.

“Where do we go, princess?”

Luna looked struggled herself. “Frankly? I do not know. Death masked her way too well. Though I feel a few magical presences of conscious ponies in a few. We need look through them.”

Twilight’s gaze returned to the thousands en mass.

Princess Luna walked close to one. “We can only start at those, Twilight Sparkle. It’s either they’re lucid dreaming or possibly Lightning himself. Best we hurry, lest things go the way we do not want to.” The young alicorn gave a nod of understanding, and the princess noted her before her horn glowed a pale blue. She and Luna stepped into a dream, the world engulfing them, swallowing them, eating them in a void stomach.

Brown, howling fog threatened to blast them with irritating particulates. The wind was thick with them, and for a moment, Twilight Sparkle felt like she was standing in the middle of the Frozen North and its winds of their own, rolling around her in great speeds. “Where are we?”

Luna seemed not to hear. She was only looking at another direction. Twilight decided a glance at the sight. A shadow, dark and unmoving.

“Come with me.” The princess formed a magical shield, motioning to Twilight. They both slowly neared the figure, its mane flapping with the wind. The wind howled a deep growl, a snarl to their ears.

When they approached it close enough, it turned a tad. Luna and Twilight stopped on their tracks, and the figure seemed to stop too. Its silhouette pierced them with their gaze. It turned around completely. It was Starlight Glimmer.

★★★★★★★★★

Light twitched his right wing, up and down slightly, and he was bored. The mare said not a word in a long while, but she was awake and alert of the atmosphere of the forest. She seemed upset . . . and conflicted. It’s like she wanted to be mad but had more important things to think about. A drizzle light and slow showered them with mist, albeit the canopies blocked most, and they wouldn’t give a care anyway if it hit them. A few times had she put her head up, as if wanting to say something, but she never said anything, and put it back down.

The mare had her forelegs crossed, her eyes red. Light beared the sight of it no longer. He needed to talk. “So . . . anything . . . you want to talk about?”

Her lips frowned and she tossed her head to the fertile soil. “I do not understand. I merely do not understand.”

He scooched a little closer. “Understand what?”

“Of many things. One is our different points of view. They match up not. You say the grand temple was made four hundred years ago, but I say it is of recent. It’s like you are from the future. It maketh no sense at all.” She shook her head in frustration. “Do you play me?”

“I promise you I’m not. We’ll . . . we’ll try to figure it out.” He ruffled his feathers. “What exactly were the last things you remembered?”

Much did she relent, and it took her awhile for a response. “More than princess Celestia inviting me to the temple? Nothing much. I had a short sojourn in her palace. And before that? I painted and painted and painted and all I ever did was paint. And that’s that.”

“Ah.” He silently question her statement of him being from the future. And yes, the fact that she appeared just when a painting disappeared . . . what was that about? Was she . . . No, no, that’s insane. Why would she be turned into a painting? It must be some coincidence. It must. “So . . . what else? That’s all?”

She nickered and waved what little she could with a hoof. “Are you trying to know of my past?” Her eyelids narrowed.

“Well, frankly, uh . . . some part of me admits that. But I do respect your privacy and all, so . . .”

“Aha! You have confessed!” The mare’s legs buckled in victory. “You admit! You admit of it! What have you to say know?” She grinned evilly.

“Um . . . sorry? I guess that’s the best I can manage. Look, I really am sorry, okay?”

Her eyes turned shallow instantly. She grumbled and slouched back to her little niche.

★★★★★★★★★

“Starlight! What’re you doing here?” She does not answer, her expression more stoic than what she’d seen. The unicorn gaped at her for moments few, glancing to the other every once in a while. Her lips revealed nothing, but her eyes were wide and unmoving.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to just . . . check on you and all,” lied Twilight. She noticed her demeanour. “Um . . . is there anything wrong, Starlight?” Twilight tried to shoot out a hoof, but retracted it.

The unicorn chanced a glance on her before turning away to gaze at the brown hills and dead trees. Twilight unsuredly turned to princess Luna, silently wishing her help. She only gave a single, solemn nod, though, motioning to Starlight Glimmer.

Twilight patted the unicorn’s back. “Starlight, I need to know what’s wrong. Would you please tell me?”

“T—they arrived, and chased me. And I am here, in this place,” quavered Starlight, repeatedly. “Again.”

“Who are they?”

“You don’t wanna know,” she whined, shaking her head.

Luna and Twilight shared a concerning glance. “We are unsure if we want know, but we need to. Perchance may you tell us of what you saw, Starlight Glimmer?”

Starlight pouted slightly. “They were . . . they were these black things. They don’t have a definite form or shape; they were gas in the air. They make you afraid, like you want to run away from them. I tried to fight them off, and I was able to stall them for some time, but they seemed . . . indestructible.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “Death and her minions,” she whispered, too quiet for Starlight to hear. “Twilight Sparkle, we need to leave at once! She may be hiding around; lurking.” Princess Luna materialized a blue portal, appearing quickly. Its waves swirled around playfully, peacefully.

“Twilight, what’s going on?” Starlight questioned, pointing at the portal. “Why are you two suddenly leaving like that?”

“It’s complicated. I’ll explain it to you when we come back home. I—” The portal disappeared, exploding into dissipating ripples. All turned and saw. They were coming. Gaseous beasts cloaked and floated, skimming through the dusty atmosphere, approaching them fast.

Starlight already left and screamed, dissipating into the horizon. Luna spread her wings, lifting herself to meet their eye level. Twilight heard the blasts of magic go off above her head, and she knew she hadn’t much time, so she took off, floating right beside Luna. “Twilight, go find Starlight! Keep her safe!” the princess commanded. Twilight needn’t another second. She soared and soared, battling the sand moving opposite her direction, irritating her eyes and wings.

In the distance was Starlight. She swooped down. “Starlight! Are you alright?”

She whimpered. “Yeah, I think so. Where’s princess Luna?”

Eruptions sounded behind them, approaching them fast. “She’s holding them off for now.”

Twilight felt a thud beside her, princess Luna landing. “We need to go. That includes you, Starlight Glimmer. It is not safe for any of us here.” And with that, a portal materialized in front of them. They could hear them coming closer, and before any of them could, they entered the portal.

★★★★★★★★★

“When I leave my bonds, I shall return you to your ancestors. When I leave my bonds, I shall chase you till the end of the world. When I leave my bonds, I will slam you down the earth so hard it will cause earthquakes. When I leave my bonds, you ought wish you died before you met me. When I leave my bonds, I will eat you for supper like a flower.”

This had been going on for a while.

Lightning Glare, abashed, had retired from his spot to hide behind a tree. He tried to block out the words she had said, the words she was saying now. They were cuts to the heart, and there seemed no end to it. But I shan’t let her know! She’ll get tired of herself eventually, right?

And he was right. Silence quickly replaced her complaints and moans. He was relieved. Air shot right through him, causing him to shiver. Light decided to return to the fire to get some heat. He stood and went his way. She was gone.

She wasn’t there on her spot. Her leaves were peppered with blood. They looked worn, like they had been tugged on for hours on end, on the ground. Oh no. Light grabbed a stick from the bonfire, the flame tossing his terrified silhouette for the forest to watch. Waste any time he did not, and he was gone before he knew of it.

He would’ve called for her name, but alas, he knew know of it. “Hey, where are you!?” Only the movement of the leaves seemed to respond, and they were meaningless. Light furthered deeper in the forest, never looking back. It was darker than it had been before, and all seemed lost.

He heard the sound of pain. Her voice. Guided by the torch’s light in his hoof he had taken, Lightning Glare flew to the spot where she lay. Some of her wounds looked better from the looks of it. Others fared not well. She recoiled. “Don’t touch me!” she yelped. The mare tried to stand, albeit she could only fall whence she came. Finally, she fell with a finality so strong it seemed she would never stand again.

“Oh, goodness, are you alright?”

“Yes, I look completely alright.” she snidely remarked. The mare grunted in pain. Light approached her, reaching out a hoof, but she shooed him away. “Let me go, please! Can’t you leave me be?!” She attended to her own wounds, trying best to avoid him.

Lightning’s hoof retracted and extended and retracted again and again, unsure what to do, stuck in an endless cycle. He struggled in both his words and mind; the two argued between what to do, and even they don’t know what they want. His head decided to shoot away to another direction.

From his eye’s corner, he could see her give a sidelong glare at him, full of confusion, full of regret, full of ire. “What are you waiting for?”

Light felt the kettle that was his insides boil. It boiled. It boiled hard, He had been holding this heat for far too long. N—no! Y—You can’t do that! he told, just keep it in! “I’ve been trying to help YOU!” The world froze in cold at that. Lightning Glare inhaled. Then exhaled. He closed his eyes. He wanted to cry. But he told himself not to. Not now. Not now. It’s not the right time.

“All this time, I just tried to help you. I just wanted to . . . help you. This may seem odd to you, but I don’t want to see you hurt; I don’t want to see anypony hurt. I would let you berate me for the rest of my life, until the end of time, just for me to see that you’re okay. I just want to see you okay. I just want to see you here, standing in front of me. I don’t know who you are, and you don’t know who I am, but that does not matter. You’re the only being in here that I can be with at the moment; there’s absolutely nopony else but us. So I need to see . . . I need to . . .”

He sighed. This was too much. “I’m . . . sorry if this has to be about me. I don’t know why it always has to involve me . . . oh, who am I to kid? What am I doing?” He shook his head. “What . . . am I doing . . . ?”

You should not have done that, you know. You twat.

Her expression was unreadable, eyeing every fiber of his being. The mare’s lips seperated a little. She circled around the pegasus, an emotion discernible in her irises. She sat down in front of him slowly, extending her blood-stained limbs.

He felt his breath cut short. “I—I . . . r—really?” She silently nodded, looking straight at him. He saw a twinkle in her eyes. He swore he felt a twinkle in his eyes too, like a firefly had spawned and lit up a void. He told her to wait there, for he need get the leaves. And when he came back, he was delighted to see she was still there, curious at the sight of him.

Light wrapped her once again tender wounds, loosening it for the sake of her comfort. When he finished, the mare headed back to the little camp, and he followed her. They sat at their previous places, and the mare eased at hers.

The pegasus ran a hoof through his matted mane, cradling his forelegs. Even with the coziness of the fire, he was still a little cold from the forest, and he shivered. Light waited there, unsure of what it was he was waiting for. It teased him; he knew not if it would come even, and that made it worse. Or maybe his entire world turned upside-down in an instant, from the moment Auriga brought him home and told him of Death.

“Flaura,” told the mare. He looked up to meet her gaze through the mingling flames. Light’s eyes deepened. “My name is Flaura Rosa.”

He gasped softly.

“Light.” He tilted his head. “Lightning Dawn Glare.”

★★★★★★★★★

Celestia planted her hooves on the marble, feeling the gelid stone and its jagged depressions. It lustered still, though, reflecting the gold and bronze pillars, their peaks not seen. From behind her, she could hear the tumult of a crowd: guards, onlookers, media. The princess would deal with them later, especially the media. Too much was happening now.

“Your majesty, we have assessed the area. There appears to be no trace of any kind of weapon used. We have yet to do a headcount,” said the royal guard commander beside her.

“Good. Keep an eye on the crowd outside, commander. I want the highest level of security set up, lest catastrophic things may occur. No one leaves and enters. How are the throngs out there?”

“Chaotic, as we expected. We’ll try our best to tend to them. Also, there are reports from the outside of an alarm going off.”

“Look into it later, commander—for now with the crowds.” With that told, the commander bowed before meeting with his men by the entrance. She saw him pass the threshold, the massive doors slamming shut.

A pin dropping to the floor could be heard in here. All eyes were on her, and why wouldn’t they be? The leader of a nation had suddenly came, amidst all this confusion, in security this tight.

She coughed dramatically. “My little ponies, what happened in here?”

“All the lights went out, princess,” one spoke near to her, loud enough for everybody to hear, petrified. “And we screamed. We tried to get out, but all the entrances were locked. Then, one by one, the hollers around us started to stop, until there was no sound. I blacked out, and woke once more, on the floor.” The gathered agreed amongst themselves, nodding and remarking.

“I see. Anything else?”

“I’m afraid not . . . That’s all I can remember?”

“Did you see anypony?”

“No, princess.”

Celestia observed the room. It looked exactly the same as before. It was too perfect. All the tapestries and art were untouched. There was no trace of anyone interfering with anything. The only trace was the aforementioned alarm of the emergency exit. Her eyes meandered until it stared high into the pentagram, and she wondered what else it could be hiding.

★★★★★★★★★

“I understand not why Death brought you,” commented she. “Why had she taken you?”

“Maybe it’s because she didn’t want anyone to know about her? She had been looking for me too, and I’m pretty sure I needn’t know of her existence.”

“Eh, that maketh no sense. She would have left you anyway, unless you have any concrete proof. I know she knows nopony would believe in you if you were to holler about her down an alley. Do you have any concrete proof of her?”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Exactly. So why need she bring you? For my case I understand, albeit for you? Unlikely.”

“So what of it?”

“I haven’t a clue . . .”—she rubbed her leg—“and I feel guilty for dragging you to this mess.” She frowned, scared of looking at him.

“No! You needn’t feel like that. You did the best you could at the situation, and you did try to help me escape with you. Remember that, you did help me escape, even if you didn’t know who I was. You didn't even know my name! And yet you still lead me the way.”

She hesitated.

“We’ll get out of this mess, that I promise you. We just need to solve the puzzle.”

Flaura gave him a glance, silent. She frowned once again, feeling her velvety coat with her hoof. “So what of this puzzle, then? Where do we start?”

“Stop right there. Do you know of any other reason she may have brought you? Forget that, let me ask you this: what were your actions before you came into contact with her?”

He smacked his lips, tapping his hoof to the ground. Light said nothing, only squeezing his legs. The pegasus reclined back to the trunk of a tree, his wings slightly flailing around in discomfort.

“Is anything the matter?”

“I . . .” A breath escaped his nostrils, and the pegasus bit the corner of his lip. He looked lost, and his eyes darted around, trying to find some answer to this. “No.”

“Liar,” she deadpanned, pointing at him. “You’re bad at it, lying.” She crossed her forelegs. “What is the matter, Lightning Glare? You need tell me.”

“I . . . look. About the whole events precursing the temple is . . . probably the reason why Death has an interest with me, but I amn’t sure of it.” She encouraged him with a move of her head. “I had a friend who died around a week ago, and he . . . appeared as a ghost. I saw her, Death. She took him away. And I had a nightmare of pentagrams and falling and instructions to go to the temple . . . and . . .”

“She directed you to the temple?” hypothesised she. He nodded.

“I assumed she wrote something on my wall when I woke. It was a pentagram once more. I . . . it was a reminder, I knew immediately. She was taunting me by bringing it back right after I wake up, to let this nightmare continue on . . . I went to the temple, thinking I could find Auriga, and Death appeared, took a painting, you appearing right after. And the rest . . . you know how the story goes.”

Flaura looked quite saddened halfway through his continuation. She coughed. “Alright. So it seemeth we cannot make anything out of this,” said she after a long silence. “I cannot think of a reason why she needeth you.”

“Well, in any case, I hope we find out.” he said.

“And this Auriga fellow is why you followed her commands?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

“I apologise for the bluntness, but utterly inane that seemeth be, is it not?”

He chuckled at that. “I hadn’t known what was with me at the time. I guess the emotions in me took over and went on its way,” he intoned.

She nodded in understanding. “I see. Your emotions sent you here, in this good situation,” she snided, rolling her eyes. Flaura’s expression darkened. “My sorries for this, but you do realise you may return home never, no?”

He froze. Twilight, her friends, his home: he left them. Light felt it on his coat. It crawled on his back once more, threatening to bite him and infect his body with the shame he had had. The pegasus quivered, and it seemed she noticed.

“Something the matter?”

Light blinked. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. I just left my friends and home and . . .”—he massaged his forehead—“I just realized what I had done, you know? I regret that.”

“It’ll be alright. You yourself said it: we’ll get out of this mess. And I promise you to the goddess we’ll get out of this game she’s making us play. I will bet my ass to the gods up there if we do not.”

He couldn’t help himself but to giggle a bit. It does not miss her eye, for she did a half smirk and half scoff. “You have a life still. I like that, and I honestly prefer for you to come back and enjoy it.” She

“Thanks,” he told, “and I really hope you return back to yours too.”