As Calypso gripped Gale’s wrist, ushering through this forest she had no idea to navigate, she bargained with her inner darkness that was always accessed a little too well. Now completely locked out of such.

Tell me why… Please…

Calypso flexed her fingers as she ran with Gale, looking forward before looking down at such. Curling her fingers, balling them into a fist until it ached.

But she knew that it wasn’t the response she wanted.

This is regular pain! This isn’t you reaching out to me! You dominate my life, you force me into a roundabout way of cannibalism—you can’t just leave me dry all of a sudden! At least tell me why!

Calypso didn’t even know where they were running to. For all the months of adjusting to this rundown, literally cursed town—Calypso never bothered to learn the map, or landmarks. All this was to her was a vast forest in its autumn twilight death throughs. Thin, twisting pine trees littered across rough planes covered in dead leaves, moss, and patchy grass. And across this fall-colored foliage, the lowering sunlight reflecting against the surfaces so harshly that the area became gold—were slopes, hills, with only moderate reprieves in climbing up them into flat ground. Only to find themselves sliding down and doing the action again and again.

…I keep fucking up…

Calypso glanced at her hand, now covered in her crimson vitality. Her nails stabbed repeatedly into her palm, spreading these fingers as the strings broke off, slapping against them.

Why do I keep assuming I have this handled? I lose myself in the liberation and not once have I taken a day, research, test whatever limits I have here. And yet I just moaned about commitment…? Groundling until the end. Groundling that has no idea where she’s going and closes herself off…

She felt the stare of Gale, making her trade looks with the concerned girl. Calypso didn’t need to figure out that she was worried at the sight of her hand, no matter the fact that it’s healed by now.

It was reflex, Calypso snapping her head away from anyone that wasn’t “her”. But it made the nagging rumbling within her mind, her flaws weighing down on her conscience. If this was going to work, admonishment wasn’t enough…

That dreaded first step, had to follow after.

“…Gale, tell me—” Calypso panted out, adding to the struggle. “—That bathroom, or any landmarks like it, can you tell me where it is or anything near that?”

“We’re coming up on that soon—then go left!”

“Thank you—now hold on and book it!”

The duo’s shared footfalls grew heavier, kicking up the leaves that went to up to their respective ankles. Calypso’s legs feeling the too familiar spikes of pains as she mounts against a hill.

But the crumbling of leaves didn’t hide the sudden sounds Calypso heard all around her.

Her paranoia being added upon as she watched the branches above shook, and it couldn’t have been reaction to the wind. The chill behind her neck, knowing she was being watched as Calypso stared opposite of such.

But as she saw the “shack” made of brick appeared outside of her peripheral vision, Calypso yanked Gale toward and helped the girl towards the location.

“Okay, we’re here… Kinda weird to take a break now of all times, but when you gotta go—” Gale tried to catch her breath.

Calypso shook her head, “I’m directing our hunter towards the fun…”

She then pointed beyond them, “Hopefully around there, however near—if we find that arena, maybe the Terrortide-ers can help us again.”

“You think they’re gonna fight what is, like, basically them-on-steroids?!” Gale rightfully questioned Calypso’s logic.

“They turned on their own when it tried to interrupt whatever this nonsense is,” Calypso felt the flimsy nature of that sentence, that line of reasoning, before she could complete the thought. “Maybe the same can happen here—which yes, I know it’s reaching. But we have the three options—do this, face the music and hope to God that our powers kick in—”

“Th-that’s a very small chance—"

“Yeah, it’s a very small chance—” Calypso then continued, “Or, we hide out and play a rousing game of ‘Hide And Not Die Until It Turns 5 or So.’”

Gale shot her hand down her pockets, her baggy pants rippling as she rustled and pulled out her phone. As soon as she flipped it opened, the calm girl broke down into a fit of nervous, rictus laughter.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“It only just turned 1, man,” Gale’s voice barely carried under the strain, still laughing.

Calypso cupped her ear with her hand, trying desperately to hear what came so easily last night. Only nothing detected, nothing to show for it, as she huffed in frustration.

But then she remembered. Last night.

Calypso walked forward, looking about at the ground, before calling out to a confused Gale:

“Look for my tracks! My scratch-marks—they can’t be fresh, but there should be signs! That’ll lead us to it!”

Gale exclaimed out in excitement and respect, from behind Calypso, “So smaaaaart!”

Before the tension took the girl again, as Calypso couldn’t help but quickly scan her surroundings, Gale’s voice startled her out of this paranoia.

“Over here, Cal! They’re still on the trees, follow the trees this way!”

Calypso immediately turned on her heels, dashing towards Gale while motioning her hands at her, telling her to just keep moving, which she did.

Gale was true to her word, the trees Calypso scaled had her claw markings spattered about, some even bending slightly due to her jumping from each one to the next. It was looking to the trees, then periodically to the skies, during these pivotal moments—until the duo found a very noticeable impact on the soil before them.

The created trail, which was simply kicked up dirt, gashed tree trunks, and a sizable stationary hole, was their only guide, only help right now. What struck Calypso the most about this entire thing, aside from the obvious frustrations, was the fact this was a simple day. The sun was out, nothing about the skies got in the way of that… And it’s like they’re being chased in the pitch dark.

But once her eyes caught it, once the sullen girl allowed herself to smile again, Calypso found the whirling, tangible darkness they sought after—along with the instant comfort.

“TERRORTIDE. TERRORTIDE. TERRORTIDE—”

“They’re screaming it now, Cal, man. I do not want at all—” Gale mewled out, with so little breath.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, remember?” Calypso pushed, rushing into the horrible arena’s entrance.

Once she entered the halls, Calypso was yanked forward—against her will. It was like the darkness itself grappled her body, and the halls jerked her throughout the hollow walls. But in her racing mind, she knew how “hollow” these walls were.

Her vision was returned to her, as she was flung onto the ground. Even that, it felt like she fell into a hole, a well that was multiple feet deep, in a few second slam. It was like Calypso’s heart dropped, her brain spinning within the skull…

Soon as the ringing ceased in her ears, the shouting quelled Calypso, as she rose to her feet. It was so odd, something like this giving her hope, when an experience like this shook her not months before.

She was in the epicenter, in this twisted spotlight. The arena was practically a bowl at this point, the walls too high, too detailed with the limbs of the onlookers. Shadow beings, lurching forward and waving within the now tainted wind.

“Hark…!” Calypso rose her arms at the crowd. “My… F-fellow monsters…!”

Calypso cringed, and then was startled by the sudden screams of Gale arriving, hitting the ground. Thankfully, Gale eked out a cry of pain to confirm she was alive, and Calypso bent down to help her to stand.

“If I could earn your audience…” Calypso continued, Gale’s arm slung over her shoulders. “There is a rogue number from your cattle! That may interfere with your treasured time…! She’s coming this way, and we need your—”

And the shouts grew louder, screeching into Calypso’s head. She growled, she felt what should have been the final step in letting go and transforming, but all she felt the snapback. Powerlessness.

“They’re not even looking at us…”

Calypso looked at Gale, a mix between bewildered and enraged. But she followed the movement of Gale’s arm from the side of her vision, Calypso following the point that proved her point.

All they did, was look up. Into the skies, chanting “Terrortide”. It was almost like there was no autonomy anymore, it was given up willingly.

How can this vengeful, selfish, egotistical and opportunistic race do such a thing to themselves? The question, this situation, everything—it was the final irk that made Calypso explode.

“The hell are you pieces of shit looking at—looking for---anyways--?!”

She shouldn’t have looked up at the skies. Calypso immediately shifted into fear.

Terror.

Blood red runes of floating text ripped through what should have been a clear, sunny day. Bands of heavy aurora… Weaving, outright probing into the very fabric of the blue skies happened before the audience of the area. It was certainly language, it had structure—they formed into glyphs that could be understood as a set of symbols even if one can’t read them… But it was scratch, trying to masquerade as purpose. The very fact that the mess they saw above could count as written word is defamation of the practice at large and its progress.

Calypso regretted coming here, regretted seeing this. But most importantly, she regretted the few seconds she was allowed to act within.

The text lanced forward, but it wasn’t precise… It was an Act of God in the sense it was a massive lightning bolt, of course it can’t “aim” at you, you just happened to be in the way of it at the worst place, at the worst time.

Calypso immediately tossed Gale aside, as far as she was able to. She braced for any pain or death process that was going to ensue, but at least it was her this time.

The runes hit directly into the silly girl’s shoulder, causing Calypso to be forced down onto her back and slid across the ground as the arch continued to crave up and into her. It was milliseconds, but she moved her head to the left enough to evade the “bolt” destroying the right side of her face as well. Still getting the intense rumbling that busted her eardrum, however.

It was chilling, how after losing her sense of hearing despite how “brief” it was, that Calypso heard the runes scream. And yell. And cry. And laugh. Finally gibber in insanity. All at once, yet bled from one end of the spectrum, to the other.

Calypso couldn’t feel it, her arm anymore. There was the very human instinct in grabbing it, feeling it… And yet. She could not physically feel such either.

From all the blaring, primal fear reactions that her mind unleashed… A very new, yet oh so familiar, feeling of dread stood out from the others.

“CALYPSO! CALYPSO, ARE YOU--!?” Gale wasted no time in rushing over to the downed girl.

Only for Calypso to feebly raise her human hand up at her, pleading to her to stop in her tracks.

“G-gale,” Calypso croaked out, using such a small voice that she never had to use again. “Run—”

It meant precious little, as the Grim Consumed arm reached out manically for Gale. Her Grim's arm.