Time became a blur in the aftermath of our conversation. After descending the tower, I sequestered myself to the garden, renewed in my determination to find a different answer. This could not be the only way. I would not allow our story to end the same as all the others.

  “There must be something I’ve overlooked. Some combination yet untested.” Lady Hope’s Bloom said nothing in return to my single-minded wondering, but with every petal I plucked and distilled into Tears, she bloomed ever more beautiful in my direction. I wanted to believe she was just as driven as I to see this through.

  I spent much of my time in the Dream, where I could pluck and boil and gather supplies with no need to call for Good Belial, returning only when I needed to add a new collaborator to my garden. With Hope’s Tears in hand, even the most stubborn seeds bloomed in minutes. Soon, my garden bloomed with more colors and scents than anywhere but Elysium itself.

  My trip to Lord Beelzebub’s laboratory had proved fortuitous. Stronger magnifying lenses, hotter flames, more precise utensils. I could distinguish soil samples in minutes, rather than hours, and create new ones just as quick. And with the help of his journal I learned much about his investigations into the fellblood, and realized how little I truly understood about the world.

  It was not merely corrosive but corrupting; transformative. It changed anything it touched, living and otherwise, at what Beelzebub described as the “molecular level,” one imperceptible by the eye at which all things were constructed. A process that, per my admittedly limited comprehension, meant that the objects were no longer — could no longer be — the same as they were prior to contact.

  A rose exposed to a drop of fellblood was no longer a rose. Nor could excising the corrupted piece return the whole to what it was before. It was destined to wither and die, or become a twisted new creation.

  The same seemed true, by Beelzebub’s centuries of testing, of Fiends.

  My brow furrowed as I mixed Brimsnarl Weed with Hope’s Tears. The result was a dull brown, one consumed in seconds once fellblood was introduced.

  Another dead end. “My apologies, Sir Brimsnarl. I thank you for your contribution.” I disposed of the mixture, emptying it into a full cauldron of Tears, and fetched another suitor.

  Whistlethorn.

  Snowpowder Bloom.

  Dragon’s Bane.

  Moonlight Rose.

  Crimson Snapdragon.

  With each suitor tested, another failure. Even the slightest imbalance and Hope’s Tears lost their potency, giving into the fellblood. Twisted into something darker, something destructive.

  “There’s no escaping it…” My eyes turned to the Serpent Oak blooming at the center of the garden. Nothing save the juice of Snakebite Plums could withstand the full corrupting nature of the fellblood in large quantities.

  Though I’d avoided it, not wanting to retread the path that led to an already failed answer, perhaps the only way forward was through a more thorough examination of the plums. If I could uncover the secret behind their bite…

  The tinkling chime of my clock stirred me from such thoughts. With a sigh, I put aside my tools and jotted down the last of my thoughts before returning to my body.

  ***

  Upon opening my eyes, I rose from my desk and took off my gloves.

  “My apologies, darlings. I hope you’ll forgive my tardiness, but you must understand, my task is on the strictest of deadlines and I cannot delay.” I picked up my notes and sat next to the Witherlily and her hauntingly beautiful family. Hope’s Bloom stood proudest at her side. Beneath the shade of good sir Serpent Oak, they were quite the handsome couple. It pained me to have not facilitated their union, but theirs was a child I was not yet prepared to face.

  I licked my thumb and turned to a new page. “I believe, Sir Oak, that we will be getting to know one another quite well in the coming days.” As I started to outline my plan, a warm, gentle glow surrounded my body. It grew until it encompassed the totality of my garden.

  It was a peculiar thing, I mused in the back of my mind, how effortless the act was now. Not two months ago, it took most of my concentration and a considerable amount of stamina to provide my garden with the light it craved. Now, after a lifetime in relative comfort, Oblivion and I had become too well acquainted, my Soulspark’s power swelling in response. And soon — the thought darkened my mood and brought a scowl to my face — we would come to blows yet again.

  “My, my, Fair Lady, how you do so toil endlessly night and day. A trait as admirable as it is frightening.”

  I smiled. Just the one I wanted to see. “Good Belial, your timing is impeccable as always. I’ve need of more fellblood. I don’t mean to impose, but would you be so kind as to provide me with more of your own?”

  A hand reached over my shoulder, pinching a phial of viscous black blood between two slender fingers. I took it, “Thank you kindly, my friend,” turning to look at the face peeking over my other shoulder.

  Though their face remained unchanging, I imagined the creature was smiling. “No trouble, no trouble, indeed, Fair Lady. I am, as ever, your humble servant.”

  Pop.

  Belial appeared sitting on my other side, a spindly leg crossed over the other. The bell on their toe tinkled as they kicked their foot. “I must say, you’re working too much, Lady Celeste. Too much, indeed. Why, you’ve not left this room for,” they held up their hand, extending one finger at a time. Then they twisted their head to look at me. “Five days! Five whole days, oh deary me!”

  I nodded, tucking the phial into the pouch on my side, and returned to my notes. “Has it been so long?”

  “It has. Truly, it has.”

  “My apologies for worrying you, Good Belial, but we both know time is the one resource I have not in abundance.” Pop. The corner of my mouth curled upward, my eyes dutifully locked on the page to avoid meeting the gaze of the creature now standing before me.

  “Will you not take a moment’s reprieve, Fair Lady?”

  “I will not.”

  The creature hummed and I raised my eyes. They crossed their arms, tilted their head this way and that. Then, with a snap of their fingers, they conjured a violin in one hand and plucked its bow from the air with the other.

  “Might I lighten your mood with a song?”

  I paused mid-sentence and pursed my lips. Truth be told, it was my heavy mood that kept me pressing forward. Were I to shrug the weight from my shoulders for even a moment, I feared losing the drive that had carried me thus far. But, sensing the creature’s anticipation — evident in the way their fingers twitched and head jerked from one side to the other like a broken clockwork — I relented with a heavy sigh and a soft smile.

  “Very well, if it pleases you.”

  Belial twirled the bow in their hand, placed it upon the strings and began to play. Not some soothing concerto, but a haunting, twisting rhythm. Low, chugging notes that continued playing even as Belial moved to a higher, soaring melody. One that sang as if the instrument were softly sobbing, worming its way into my brain and crawling down my spine.

  Against my prior judgment, my shoulders relaxed as my body swayed with the Fiend’s song. My gaze softened; my script lightened. I continued my notes, but an air of tense ease settled between us. It neither dulled my focus, nor lessened my drive, but all the same it tickled my brain in the most delightful manner.

  Foreboding, but oddly uplifting. The perfect backing to the task at hand.

  After several minutes, I set my quill down. It was only then that Belial spoke.

  “Do you wish to see the state of your family, Fair Lady?” They asked, their song continuing.

  I nodded, a pang of guilt in my center. “I do…are they well?”

  “Quite well! Quite well, indeed. They’re a formidable lot, they are.” As the tension in Belial’s song rose, the light and shadow around them shifted, peeling apart as if to form a looking glass.

  Within, it showed them locked in combat with a pack of Fellbeasts.

  Vasco beat aside a great dreadtusk with a single deflection, his fist splattering its skull across the wastes. Beside him, Lucien moved swift as the wind, cleaving through a pair of rotflies and dropping a stampeding dreadtusk with a toss of his spear. Behind them, face smeared with sweat and soot, her breathing labored, Mother loaded a bolt and took aim, striking a foe from the sky. Littered at their feet were the fading corpses of their enemies, so numerous they formed a thick cloud that swirled around them in the stale, dry wind.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  It pained me to feel their aches through the vision, but loosened the tightness in my chest to see that, though they were bandaged, they carried on without slowing.

  “They draw nearer to Dreadskull with each passing day. Their arrival will soon be upon us.”

  Belial meant for those words to bring me comfort. Instead, my insides twisted knowing my time was shorter than I’d hoped.

  With a flourish and a trill, the creature’s song came to an end. They swept forward with a grand bow to my sincere applause, despite the frown yet lingering on my lips. Without lifting their head, Belial spoke, saying, “Lord Genesis wishes to see you, Fair Lady. He has longed for your company for many days now, he has.”

  My gaze returned to my notes, hands fidgeting, torn between picking up my quill and resting on my lap.

  “Does he?” I asked in a voice too wistful to be my own. “If…he wishes for my company, why does he not say so himself? Surely he knows whence I’ve retreated.”

  Belial giggled — a reluctant sound — and raised their head. “He does not wish to disturb your research. The success of your experiments is of utmost important to my Lord Master.”

  I pursed my lips and picked up my quill, tracing the letters of my last written line. That was unsurprising. Of course, Genesis would want to give me space to work. If I were to recreate the Answer here, a battle with my brother would no longer be necessary. “You know what it is Lord Genesis desires, don’t you, Belial?”

  The creature went deathly still, violin vanishing from their hand. For almost a full minute, they stared back at me without so much as a shudder. When they at last spoke, the quiet voice came from deep behind the mask.

  “I do.” None of their theatrics were present in the response. Voice neither lingering, nor dissonant; no queer, unnatural movements made. Just a statue.

  “You do not wish to see such an end, do you?”

  Time, like Belial, stood still. Then, “I do not.” The creature at last moved, standing upright in a stiff, doll-like posture. “And yet…and yet, such is the way these stories must end. A Beast laid low by a Hero’s blade. A Maiden rescued and whisked off into happily ever after. The curtain closes…” Belial raised a hand and the lights in the garden dimmed. “The lights go down…” They took a bow and disappeared into a distortion.

  “And the characters disappear. Their story told; their purpose served.”

  Those words hung in the air long after Belial was gone, stinging my ears with their bitter tone. My lips pressed into a firm line, and my brow furrowed. I closed my notebook and set it on my desk, then retrieved an envelope in the corner.

  “That is not how ours ends, Good Belial. This I promise you.”

  ***

  When I reached the library, I found Genesis at his favorite chair near the back. My footsteps swift and silent, I crept closer with a barely-contained smile playing on my lips.

  He lounged — rarely did he ever let me catch him lounging — in his seat, feet up on an ottoman, a journal resting in one great claw, while the other held a black feather quill. There was no scowl on his face, nor fire in his eyes. His expression was soft with the whisper of a smile. The quill moved furiously, scribbling notes in a hand that was elegant as it was sharp. Precise letters written with confident strokes.

  I paused an arm’s length away, my presence yet unnoticed. I didn’t intend to pry, but I could not bring myself to interrupt someone so visibly in the throes of inspiration. Instead, I took to observing him more closely than I had in some time. Not the pain, nor the monster, but the man few, even he, acknowledged.

  Thick stubble painted his cheeks, giving texture to his otherwise smooth face. As he rumbled to himself, the blackened tips of his long, pointed ears twitched every so often — I felt mine, near identical to his, subconsciously doing the same. Though his eyes glowed, it was softer than a campfire this time. More a twinkle, as foolish as it seemed even in my mind. Behind his lips, sharpened fangs. But, framed by a smile instead of a scowl, I found them quite pleasant to the sight. Wondered deep in the back of my mind what they might feel like pressed against my skin.

  It was that thought, bubbling to the forefront of my mind the longer I stared, that startled me from my reverie. Moving as if I were just arriving, I walked past him and took a seat in my favorite chair, across from his.

  He looked up with a start, slapping his journal shut. The temperature in his eyes, and in the room, rose several degrees.

  “Celeste.”

  Hearing my name spoken by his tongue, the weight of how much I’d missed his company hit me like a blow to the gut. I bowed my head, gaze fixed on my feet.

  “I must apologize, Lord Genesis, for my absence. We parted on such a heavy note.” I peered up at his face and offered a cautious smile. “I hope that you can find it within you to forgive me this discourtesy.”

  Genesis’s frown gave way to a smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Have you done me a discourtesy, Celeste? You were tending to your work. Work, need I remind you, done with my full endorsement.” He chuckled, and I stared, transfixed, at the glimmer of his fangs. “You’ve nothing to apologize for…but, I forgive you regardless.”

  I giggled — an awkward, girlish sound that took me by surprise — and relaxed into my chair, drawing in my knees and tucking my feet beneath me. The envelope cradled in my hands, I held to my chest in an effort to still the restlessness I felt taking hold of me.

  A tapping sound.

  My eyes drifted to his claw, now rapping against the arm of his chair, and I felt a heat stir within me. Suddenly, I was drawn back to that strange happening after our exchange in the dining room. Those claws raking my flesh with bloody tenderness. A confrontation we’d yet to fully explore, save a throwaway exchange while I was on the brink of unconsciousness. But whether it was wise to bring it up now, or forget it entirely, was a choice that left me paralyzed.

  As if sensing my apprehension, Genesis broke the silence. “Is there some reason you’ve ventured from your garden to grace me with your presence, o’ Promised Healer?”

  “Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, there is, my good sir.” I cleared my throat and turned away from his claws to gaze into his eyes. Even that proved challenging as it left me with no way to avoid his smile. Still small, but sincere. “It has been quite some time since last we spoke — truly spoke — and I wished to know if you had the time to discuss Tears from the Sky?”

  Genesis’s eyes lit up and his smile grew to a sharp-toothed grin. “Then you read it?”

  “I did.”

  “And?” His expression burned brighter, leaning forward when my answer took longer to come than expected.

  I covered my mouth, fighting the urge to laugh and smothering the sound when my efforts failed. “I quite enjoyed the story, Genesis. Though, I must say, I cannot imagine a greater lack of subtlety on your part.”

  “Is that right?”

  “A Maiden, the darling of her village, snatched up by a great and terrible shadow. Whisked away to a forbidden kingdom where she’s forced to reach out in dreams to direct the Hero through his perilous journey.”

  He leaned back and laced his fingers, peering over them at me with an unmasked grin. “A common enough thread in such stories.”

  “A fair point, my good sir.” I bit my lip and shook my head. The pain nestled in his breast was just a pulse, persistent, but dull. Easily smothered by the warmth in his eager eyes. “However, it is not often the Maiden is the one who draws first blood against the Beast. Nor is it commonplace that, upon being caught in giving aid to the Hero, she challenges the Beast to stop her.” My smile softened. “Do you see her in me?”

  “I do.” No hesitation. “From the very moment we met in the reflection of your garden, you reminded me of Princess Saoirse. A Maiden, true, but not one who languishes in helplessness, waiting to be rescued.” Genesis closed his eyes and growled. It was not the sound of a beast, but more akin to a content hound, curled up to sleep by the fire. “Tears from the Sky has long been my favorite tale. Unlike the Maiden in The Ruinous Blade, Princess Saoirse never casts aside who she is to overcome her circumstances. She confounds the Wizard King openly, not through trickery but by sheer determination.”

  His eyes fluttered open, gazing into mine with tender heat. His grin shrank until it disappeared. “She was the same at the beginning as at the end. Undaunted by the cruelty dealt to her by fate.”

  A flicker of anguish, but just a flicker.

  “Have you ever shared a moment such as this with Beelzebub or Banshee?”

  “Never.” Without hesitation again.

  “Why?” I asked just as quickly, continuing to keep him from avoiding the question. “You never answered in the tower.”

  The Fiend Lord sank into his chair, all but his smoldering eyes hidden behind his interlaced fingers. He drew in a deep breath and released it in the same breath. The room’s temperature rose; sweat broke out on my brow.

  “It was that first night. I have encountered six before you — my Fiends and the three Witherlilies — and not one of them responded as you. Defiant, yes, but eager to keep me a nightmare contained within the Dream. They fought to confound me from a distance, to ensure I could not reach them.” He growled again. “But you…you challenged me. Invited me to face you in the Waking World.”

  Something more, something new, flickered in the depths of his eyes. I felt it in my stomach, fluttering into my chest.

  “And when I appeared.” He spread his arms. “You were frightened, yes, but upon hearing my demand, you offered yourself up willingly, pausing only to tend to the wounds of those you love before plunging into the dark to save them.” A tiny smile returned to his lips, and with it, the fluttering in my chest grew wild.

  “Despite what you’ve seen, what you’ve suffered, you remained steadfast…the same now as you were that night. Unyielding in your determination to see your fantasy made reality. To create an ending that cannot be.” Genesis sighed. “I knew after that night at the encampment that you would never become a Fiend. No power that could entice you, no tragedy that could break you. There is nothing in this world that could change you, Celeste.”

  He paused and brought a claw to his lips. Staring at me with sad, soulful eyes, their light reduced to cinder, he opened his mouth once to speak, then stopped. Another pause, and then, “Tell me it had an ending you could accept.”

  Before I could stop it, a laugh burst from my lips. My hand flew to my mouth to smother it, but at the sight of such wide-eyed disbelief on his face, I collapsed into more inappropriate giggles. When at last I managed to steady my laughter, I shook my head and looked at him with a quivering smile.

  “Lord Genesis, there is no ending I hated more.” I cleared my throat, but remained locked in a struggle to contain my mirth. “Pray, forgive me the discourtesy.” Clearing my throat, I continued, turning his attention to the envelope in my grasp.

  Genesis looked at it and sat forward in his seat. His eyebrow craned, eyes twinkling once more.

  “In fact, I found it so loathsome that I simply could not let well enough be. While you were away, I took it upon myself to pen an entirely different outcome.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “Would you…perchance care to read it?”

  The twinkle in his eyes grew to a blaze — dying stars born anew — and a great, wide grin reached the length of his face. He sat forward suddenly, only stopping himself with visible effort. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen in him before. As if the Fiend Lord had vanished for a moment, letting the real Genesis shine through.

  “I would.” He said in a breathless voice. “I would very much like that.”

  The lightness in my chest grew until it felt as though I might lift from my chair. “Truly?” He nodded, and a shiver raced to the tips of my fingers. Hands trembling, I held the envelope out to him, expecting that he might snatch it from me.

  Instead, he took it with a gentleness none would have believed him to possess. So tender a touch his claws neither frayed the edge, nor bent the spine. Looking utterly unlike the Beast he claimed to be, Genesis stared down at the envelope with a bright and shining smile. When his eyes met mine, I could not help but return it.

  “Shall I read it now, and then we can discuss it when we meet for dinner?”

  “Yes.” I bit my lip and felt heat rise in my cheeks as I beheld his smiling face. “I would very much like that.”

  Thank you so much for reading!

  Feedback of all kinds is appreciated to help make the story better, improve my writing, and keep me motivated!