image [https://i.imgur.com/7NLLN3Z.png]

CHAPTER 2

WHEN ANGELS FALL

Waves lapped gently against the golden sand of the beach in front of the modern-looking house; the pale birch wood and smooth white walls stood brightly against the red bricked floor. A soft, salty sea breeze gently stroked Nightingale's short hair as she walked up to the door; the house was very open, having only a fence gate instead of a proper door, and most of its interior was visible from the outside.

"Hello?" she called out weakly, unreasonably afraid to break the silence. Fear and panic were gnawing away at her heart, trying to break through the thick milky sheet of glass that encased her. "Anyone?"

For a few long moments the only reply she received was the soft murmur of the sea, until a clear, strong voice ringed through the silence.

"Night?" Butter called, walking up the stairs from the basement, and as soon as her amber eyes met Nightingale's, fear and panic finally broke through.

"Butter...!" She cried in relief, as the angel came through the fence gate and joined her outside.

"What's up?" Butter asked, not yet noticing the state Nightingale was in; her expression, however, fell from friendly and welcoming to concerned as soon as Nightingale grasped both of her hands, tears welling up in her gray eyes.

"Butter, please, you gotta help me," she sobbed, and Butter's gaze grew deadly serious as she finally realized the situation. Something was wrong. "Please- where is Syphus? Please..."

"Syphus is... away", Butter said carefully, putting her hands comfortingly around Nightingale's trembling ones. "Why do you need to talk to him?"

"It's- I've been-" her voice broke slightly under the weight of tears welling up inside her, and she took a deeper breath in an attempt to steady it. "He knows about souls, right?"

"Well, yeah..." Butter looked away for a moment in slight embarrassment, before leaning closer to Nightingale and whispering in her ear, "He... eats them." She straightened up. "It's his diet. Why?"

A dry chuckle escaped Nightingale's throat, and tears finally slipped down her cheeks. "Well... That's actually the opposite of what I need right now..."

"Oh? What's wrong, Night?" the angel leaned down slightly to study Nightingale's face closely, and straightened back up, her expression even more concerned. "Let's go inside", she hummed gently and softly put her hand on Nightingale's back, guiding her inside the house and sitting her down on a sofa.

"I just... I-" Nightingale sobbed as she sat down, focusing her tearful stare on her hands, fiddling nervously with her fingers without even realizing that. "I was stupid... Butter, I was so stupid- And I went to the church..."

Butter settled down right next to her, keeping one of her hands comfortingly on Nightingale's back. "What do you mean?"

The short-haired girl rambled on, her words flowing out uncontrollably, interrupted by desperate breaths and sobs. "I went to the church and he- he promised me... that all will go away..."

"'He'?" Butter questioned, but Nightingale just shook her head and her body trembled with another stifled whimper.

"All pain and memories will be gone... And- And... I walked in... And this strange place- He said I will be his eyes, and that I need to spread his influence- And that nothing could hurt me there-"

She tried her best to relay the events to Butter, but the anxiety and panic that had finally broken through the dam that was holding them back made it impossible to coherently form her thoughts; the roaring fear drowned them out, and she was barely hanging onto the shore.

"Wait... what...?" Butter whispered, horrified, desperately trying to make sense of the fragments and scraps she'd been given. "Who is 'he'?"

"I don't know!!" Nightingale sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "I died in there!"

Noticing that the girl was on the very edge of a mental breakdown, Butter started to draw comforting circles on her back with her hand. "Night... Shh, shhh-"

"And he said- That I am an empty vessel now... And that I will disappear from this world after a few days-"

"Someone is using you?" Butter asked, but Nightingale shook her head absent-mindedly, only partially registering the question.

"I don't know what to do- I was so stupid- but it sounded so nice… And I didn’t think-"

Butter took a deep breath, deciding that the best approach in this situation is short, precise questions, to learn as much as she could and to navigate her way through Nightingale’s panicked rambling. “Do you know what this entity is?”

The bird-girl shook her head again, this time seeming more focused. “No- Orix told me a little about it, but-”

“And what did Orix say?” Butter cut her off. Short, precise questions.

Nightingale hesitated slightly, wiping the tears from her face with her wrist. “He… Did something to me, and then this voice- I started hearing it…”

“What?!” the angel hissed, her body tensing up defensively in anger. “What did they do?”

“I have no idea!” The scene seeped through Nightingale’s scattered thoughts again; kneeling on the misty grass, the voice in her mind, feeling so wrong and out of place. “They appeared out of nowhere and when they touched me everything went black, and then the voice-”

“Orix, you say…” Butter muttered, biting her lower lip in thought, her gaze unfocusing for a short moment.

“He… he said this entity wants to help all the broken find peace”, Nightingale said slowly, trying her best to recall Orix’s words, furrowing her brows and lifting up one hand to her head.

“And why were you asking for Syphus, if I may know?” Butter’s amber eyes settled softly on the side of Nightingale’s face.

“He was the only one I could think of that would know what to do”, Nightingale answered. If her mind was clearer, she would have probably found it amusing that the powerful being that had once hunted her down and terrified her to the core was the first one to come to her mind when she searched for help. “He was the only one I could think of that would know something about how souls work… I don’t know, I just… panicked and ran straight here.”

“Well… Syphus is more in the department of consuming souls”, Butter laughed nervously, bringing one hand up to the back of her neck, “but I think he can help us.”

“That’s why I needed to talk to him, but…” Nightingale trailed off and a new wave of despair and panic washed over her, and even dulled and muted it brought fresh tears to her eyes. But he’s not here. “Please, Butter, you have to help me-” she turned towards the angel and grabbed her hands in a desperate gesture. “I know I’m not that close to your family, but please, there’s no one else-”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Butter answered quickly, squeezing Nightingale’s hands reassuringly, and gave her a slight smile. “Of course you are, Night, you’re like family to us.”

A brief shadow of a fond smile ran across Nightingale’s face, however it was quickly snuffed out.

Butter was silent for a short moment. “So you think this entity is a soul? That has possessed you?”

“No, he…” Nightingale took another shaky breath and finally turned her face towards Butter, looking at her with terrified, despairing, tear-filled eyes. “He took my soul.”

The angel straightened up, lifting up her eyebrows and slightly opening her mouth, as she stared at Nightingale, perplexed.

“HUH?”

Nightingale turned away again, as if embarrassed and ashamed, looking down at her hands resting in her lap again. “He said he’ll add it to his ‘collection’”, she said quietly, wiping away the tears that had slowly stopped flowing down. “And that I am an empty vessel now, and will disappear soon…”

“Night… how are you alive?” Butter asked carefully, tilting her head a little, but the bird-girl shook her head slightly.

“Butter, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know- I didn’t think-” she started to ramble again, but Butter cut her off gently with a soft ‘It’s okay’. “I’m not gonna be alive for much longer, if what he said was true.”

“Oh my God…” Butter closed her eyes and shook her head with disbelief, trying to focus on what the best course of action would be right now. She took a deep breath and looked at Nightingale again, her gaze growing stern and determined. “Can you take me to the place where this happened?”

Nightingale looked up at her in surprise. “But… I don’t want you to go in there-”, she protested. “I don’t know if I want you to see it… What if you go in as well?”

Butter gave her a calm, reassuring smile. “I’m an angel. My soul cannot be taken that easily.”

Nightingale was silent, but Butter guessed her thoughts from the look on her face - questioning, almost hopeful, if it wasn’t for the fear that there is nothing to hope for. “I cannot make or give souls…”, she spoke up sadly, in a gentle tone, heartbroken to snuff out this ray of hope as well, however brief it might’ve been. “As an angel I can only collect souls when it’s someone’s… you know… time.” She smiled awkwardly. “But I haven’t done that in a looong time. And the few I’ve collected recently have been evil souls, which go straight to Syphus’ stomach.”

Nightingale flinched slightly at her matter-of-fact tone, and Butter decided to change the subject. It was time to take matters in their own hands again.

“Night, we should go to this place”, she repeated. “We don’t have to go inside.”

The bird-girl was silent for a few long moments, before finally taking a deep breath and looking up at Butter again. “Can you- promise you won’t do the same thing I did?”

“I promise”, came the reassuring reply.

“...Alright.” Nightingale sighed and slowly got up from the couch. “We should go to Belkyndron first.”

And for the second time this night, she stepped down from the glass bridge of Belkyndron onto the dew-covered grass, heading towards the ruined church. The crickets still sang all around her, and she felt like an eternity had passed since she’d last heard them, taking almost the exact same path as she did now.

The empty void in her chest didn’t stop her stomach from twisting and turning as together with Butter they climbed up the broken, oxidized copper stairs and stood in front of the overgrown entrance.

“It’s- can you hear it…?” she whispered as the otherworldly noises of the rift reached their ears.

“Yeah”, Butter answered, her voice hushed and careful, as the vines parted under a stronger gust of wind and the rift revealed itself to her eyes - the swirling mass of shadow and dust, a gash in the reality, standing at the altar. “What in the world is that…?”

“Orix called it… a ‘rift’.”

The otherworldly voice echoed through the church.

You brought a visitor?

Butter walked forward, entering the church, passing the rows of destroyed seats, stepping lightly on the blood-splattered obsidian floor. She stopped at the rift, keeping a reasonable distance from it, gazing at the moving gash in reality with concern and almost disgust sparkling in her amber eyes.

"...I see", she said quietly, her voice gravely serious.

"No, no, no, no-" Nightingale whispered under her breath, seeing the angel walking down the aisle, and despite every fiber in her body telling her to turn back and run away, she forced her muscles to move and followed her companion.

"Butter..." she said, joining the angel, stopping a few steps behind her; the rift didn't seem inviting and tempting, as it did the first time she'd seen it. Now it was just terrifying, repulsing, as the enderman screeches pierced her ears and the purple neon eyes flashed in her mind over and over. "Can you- can you hear it?"

This is indeed a rift, the voice hummed, and Nightingale could've sworn she felt the vibrations caused by it in her chest, as if the void inside her was resonating, answering his call. Without me holding it open, someone walking through would cause it to collapse.

The dancing shadows of the rift were almost hypnotizing, and as Nightingale gazed into them, the sight of the dim, pale corridors resurfaced in her mind; the deafening silence broken only by the faintest buzzing of the electric lights, the suffocating feeling, her voice stopping right in front of her face, making her almost claustrophobic. The distant shrieks, and the sight of the neon eyes racing towards her.

She shuddered and shook her head, bringing herself back to reality; the Entity must’ve mentioned her, because Butter was protectively standing in front of her now, her head raised confidently, her voice resonating through the empty church loud and strong.

"I see you otherworldly creatures like to play dirty", she sneered, narrowing her eyes.

Now her soul is free from all pain and suffering, the voice explained calmly, patiently; Nightingale only now noticed how smooth and deep it was, almost rumbling like thunder, similar to the low-pitched noises of the rift. All that is left behind is her empty body, which was unfortunately left behind with a consciousness.

Empty body, repeated Nightingale in her mind. That's what she was. A hollow shell. A vessel. A gaping hole where her soul used to be, barely able to feel a thing.

Empty body, can you do me a favor?, the Entity addressed her, and a chill ran down her back, though dulled and bland, just like everything else.

"HEY", Butter hissed, resting one hand on the golden hilt of her sword, ready to draw it. "She has a NAME. It's NIGHTINGALE."

Apologies, came the reply, though a sarcastic undertone was clear and obvious; she could almost see the Entity bowing mockingly. "Nightingale", can you do me a favor?

"What else do you want from me?", she asked wearily, but Butter cut her off angrily. "She's not doing anything for you", the angel snapped. "Night, get behind me."

The Entity ignored her. I want you to allow me to see more, it said, and Nightingale could feel the fear rising up behind the thick blankets of fog inside her chest as she realized what exactly these words meant. Let me see through Butter's eyes.

"No... no, no, no, no-" she started to say, slowly shaking her head and looking down at the floor.

Please, the voice added politely.

"No, no, no, no-" Nightingale took a few unsteady steps back, away from the rift, looking at Butter with terrified eyes. "Butter, run- Please, Butter, run", she begged the angel, even though she knew the fearless warrior that she was, she wouldn't back down or run away, no matter how much Nightingale begged her.

Still, she had to try.

I set your soul free. The voice sounded slightly more stern and threatening now. I fulfilled my end of the deal.

"Please- Butter, please", Nightingale sobbed, but Butter only stared into the moving shadows of the rift, eyes determined, sword raised and ready.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Just do me a small favor.

Nightingale’s muscles flexed involuntarily, trying to get her legs to take a few steps closer, trying to bring her body forward, but she jerked backwards, startled and panicked.

The voice grew impatient.

Fine. I will do it myself then.

The stale air in the church suddenly filled with electricity as the shadows of the rift seemed to widen and grow; darkness engulfed everything around Nightingale, and she shrunk into herself, panic spreading through her body.

And when it cleared, something else stood in front of the altar.

A vague silhouette, unfocused and shaky like a hot air mirage, sometimes almost humanoid in shape; Nightingale could’ve sworn it turned around to look at her for a brief second, and she froze, fear paralyzing her limbs. Time seemed to slow down as she watched the shadows move and shift, as the silhouette moved towards the angel.

“Butter, NO!” she screamed and dove forward in hopes to shield her, but an outburst of bright light stopped her in her tracks; Butter used her magic to push the shadows back, her brows furrowed in determination, her eyes staring fearlessly at the entity before her.

“STOP, you have ME!” she yelled dismally again and stumbled towards the black creature; she wanted to reach out into the shadows, hoping to affect the entity, to distract it, but it turned sharply and pushed her aside, throwing her off balance and sending her to the floor; the touch of the moving shadows on her skin, light and fluttering, but full of strange power, sent shivers down her spine.

Butter tried to use this slight moment of distraction to strike a blow, but as soon as she raised her sword, the entity turned sharply towards her, almost inhumanly quick, and the shadows moved, closing around her wrist.

Butter gasped, and Nightingale’s eyes widened in terror.

“NOOO!” she screamed, scrambling to her feet, as the darkness fell over the church again; she jumped forward, grabbing Butter’s arm and pulling her towards the exit, stumbling over the uneven cracks in the floor and the destroyed carpet, hitting her legs and hips against the shattered seats, blindly pushing forward.

Her vision cleared once they both left the church and stepped into the warm, quiet night again; it was still dark, but it was the safe and familiar kind of darkness, filled with chirping crickets and distant glow of the stars.

Breathing heavily, she leaned down to study Butter’s face, partially covered by loose strands of blonde hair; the angel seemed shocked, but otherwise unharmed, and the steel determination and anger were still as clear as day. She clenched her jaws and straightened up, clearly determined to go back inside, but Nightingale gripped her arm tighter.

“Butter, stop”, she begged. “Please, don’t go back.”

“It’s okay”, Butter replied, finally shifting her attention to Nightingale. “He didn’t get me.”

But he did, Nightingale wanted to say. Butter wasn’t dead, but she was infected. Because of her. Because she’d brought her here.

Tears welled up in her gray eyes. “He almost- he-”

“Angel souls are harder to trap than others”, Butter reassured her, squeezing her hand comfortingly and giving her the slightest smile.

Nightingale nodded gently and stepped back, giving the angel the space to get up. She took a deep breath to try and steady her racing heart a little bit, to calm her shaking hands, and to quell the panic inside her chest, and walked back inside the ruined church, the broken glass shards scrunching under her feet.

“Listen!” she called out towards the rift standing menacingly at the end of the isle, doing her best to put every single ounce of bravery that was left in her into her voice. “You have me! You don’t need anyone else!”

The otherworldly noises of the rift grew louder as she got closer.

“Don’t take anyone else!” she cried desperately. “Leave the others! Please!”

I am not taking others, the Entity responded patiently. I am simply seeing through them.

“Don’t! Please!” she put her hands on her chest pleadingly, taking a step towards the moving mass of shadows. “I can do things for you! I can do what you want. You don’t need anyone else.”

You want me to be blind forever?, the Entity asked, just as Butter slowly came up to the altar, joining Nightingale again. What if you were somewhere, but something was going on by Butter? Or Orix? I would need to see that, too.

“Look, I know where they sell killer specs, if you want 20/20 vision”, Butter sneered sarcastically.

Nightingale furrowed her brows. “What do you need to see?”

The shadows seemed to grow taller for a brief moment, and the shrieks and calls coming from inside them sounded almost hungry, as the reply came heavy and grim.

Everything.

Hopeless emptiness fell over Nightingale, settling heavy on her shoulders, and she lowered her head, slouching slightly. The deep rising and falling rumble of the rift rang in her ears.

“Butter… I’m so sorry…” she whispered, feeling tears welling up in her chest, touching the milky glass wall that surrounded her heart. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it…”

The enderman-like shriek came from within the churning shadows, followed by the ethereal calls, as Nightingale gazed into the rift.

“I knew it was gonna happen… I knew it. I was so fucking dumb again.”

Tears had seemed to melt through the emptiness and touch her heart, as she felt a few of them sliding down her cheeks, their touch hot, immediately turning cold. “Butter, I’m so sorry…”

Empty vessel. Why do you worry so much?, the Entity spoke up with a comforting tone, as if it was saying Silly little Nightingale. Don’t you see? There’s nothing to cry about. Butter is not dead. She is not gonna die.

“It’s okay.” Butter put a comforting hand on Nightingale’s shoulder, and it felt like she would crumble underneath the weight of it. “When Syphus gets here he’ll know what to do.”

Simply another information broker.

“I never should’ve shown you…” Nightingale protested weakly, not being able to bring herself to turn to Butter and look her in the face.

“It’s okay”, the angel repeated. “We should’ve waited on Syphus. That’s on me.”

They both stood there in silence for a while; an angel and a soulless bird-girl, face to face with a portal to a place between realities, a gash in the matter of the world.

“Entity…” Nightingale said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, flat and hoarse. “Is there really nothing I can do?”

There is nothing. Entity’s low, rumbling voice echoed in her mind. You will fade away and be forgotten, while your soul lives in paradise for eternity.

Paradise.

You are free. Just know that.

“Then how will you see if we vanish?” Butter asked; her tone was confident and challenging, and determination of a warrior burned in her amber eyes. What a contrast she was next to resigned, weak Nightingale. She must’ve looked even more hopeless and faded next to the fierce angel.

When this empty body goes, I will still see through you and Orix, the Entity explained calmly. I will not kill my eyes.

Butter rested her hand on the hilt of her golden sword again, as if looking for reassurance. “But Orix and I are gonna vanish too”.

No, you are not, the Entity scoffed. Heh. Is that what you were all worrying about? You are only my eyes. You are not dying.

“Why Night, then?” Butter asked, gesturing to the girl.

Because Night was weak! She was broken! Each sentence felt like a jab at Nightingale’s chest, and she slouched forward, lowering her head and hiding her face. Held back by her past. I cut those strings.

“She’s not.” The angel put a hand on Nightingale’s shoulder, and, again, she almost caved in under its weight.

Then where is she?, the Entity asked, with a hint of mockery and something akin to satisfaction in his tone. Because I don’t see her.

Nightingale shuddered. Despite the numbing, hollow void inside her, hopelessness was slowly filling her like a rising tide, cold and heavy. “I… I am, Butter”, she whispered. “He’s right.”

Nightingale gave into temptation. She knew what she was getting herself into.

‘All this pain…’

‘You can let it all go. Every last drop.’

‘I’m a man of my words.’

Now she is gone.

“Night, don’t listen to this leaf blower”, Butter sneered again, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword, but Nightingale shook her head.

“He’s right.” She whispered, her gaze fixed on the church’s obsidian floor.

“No, nothing but a bunch of CO2 and bath salts”, the angel repeated, grabbing Nightingale’s hand and shaking it a little, as if she wanted to bring her back to her senses. “And lies.”

You cannot even begin to understand what a lie is, Butter, the Entity hummed, a patronizing tone appearing in his voice. But soon, I suppose the fallen angel will show you.

“Well, Syphus isn’t gonna like this rift”, Butter bit back, taking a step towards the moving mass of shadows. “And he has no soul for you to take.”

I do not need to kill the fallen angel. I simply have to trap him.

Butter furrowed her brows again, annoyance sparkling in her golden eyes. “He’s not a fallen angel. He’s a demon lord.”

A fallen. Angel. The Entity repeated sternly, but Butter just scoffed.

“And what makes you think you can trap him?”

The swirling shadows of the rift danced ominously. The box of scraps is already getting in his head. Makes Syphus vulnerable.

“Box of what now?” the angel asked, her furrowed brows now a sign of confusion more than annoyance, before realization flashed on her face. “Ohhh. ZCQ.”

The walking letter.

“...What is he talking about?” Nightingale asked quietly, not really expecting an answer, as Butter clearly didn’t have time for explaining right now; it looked like an issue between her and the rift. Between her and the Entity.

“And what will you do after you trap him? Theoretically speaking, because you can’t.”

Leave him there for all eternity, the Entity answered simply, indifferently. And then let those walls that encase him spread throughout your world.

The angel scoffed again; a dry, sarcastic chuckle. “Leave him there? What, to starve? He’s not gonna like that.”

He will not starve. Hence the ‘for all eternity’.

Nightingale turned her gaze to Butter again, and something in the angel’s face made her blood run cold. It wasn’t just the steel determination and defiance anymore; there was something else, something that made her features look sharper, her stare more challenging, full of fire.

“...Butter?” she whispered, anxiety rising in her like a cold wave.

Fury, she realized, just a moment too late.

“You good for nothing-” the angel sneered, and drew her sword in one quick movement; with another movement, she leaped forward and charged at the rift. Nightingale didn’t even have time to lift her hand before the shadows engulfed the angel and devoured her whole.

“BUTTER! NO!!” she wailed, stumbling towards the rift, almost as if she wanted to follow her inside, or to pull her back from the swirling dark mist.

That was stupid, the Entity stated flatly, unmoved and unbothered by what happened, while Nightingale’s eyes filled with tears again.

“NOO!!!! No, no, no, no, no-”

She looked around the church, hopelessly looking for anything that could help her, for any ideas what to do.

All alone again.

The words laid heavy on her numb heart.

“No…”

And the rift stays open.

“WHERE IS SHE?”, she screamed at the rift, wishing she could just grab the shadows and tear them apart, but the Entity ignored her question.

If you want a purpose, empty body, feel free to spread the warning. My walls will grow from here.

Helpless. She was helpless to do absolutely anything.

“Where am I…?” Butter’s voice suddenly echoed through the church; it was muffled and distant, as if heard underwater, just like Orix’s voice was to Nightingale when she was in the rooms herself. “Oh, I know what hell looks like, and it’s not this. You’re the one who’s gonna see hell. When he comes for you. He’s not stupid. He can get out. You don’t know who you’re up against.”

The weight resting on her heart suddenly felt too heavy to handle, and her trembling legs gave out as she kneeled on the blood-stained floor and covered her face with her hands. Maybe if she didn’t look, it would all disappear. Maybe it was just all a bad dream.

Or maybe he was right. Maybe she was weak. And maybe that was all she was.

Quiet footsteps coming from behind her reached her ears, but she remained unmoving.

Hello, Gatekeeper, the Entity rumbled, and she felt her muscles tense. Not with fear. With anger.

“Hello”, the boy replied.

Glad to see you back.

“Glad to be.”

Nightingale wanted to move, to stand up, to lunge at Orix, to do anything, but her body refused to listen to her. Or maybe her will wasn’t strong enough for that.

Butter walked in for some reason. Left her there.

“She went in? Good.” She heard a smile in Orix’s voice, and she could feel the exact moment his eyes landed on her curled up body. “What is Night doing here?”

Sad over her demise, the Entity mused. She didn’t react.

“So… You’re just as trapped as I am in here, if you’re seeing everything I see.” Butter’s voice sounded through the church again, so muffled and echoing that it almost made it unintelligible. “And I am nearsighted, so have fun with that. You’re gonna get a headache.”

I am not trapped. I know my way around the infinite rooms. And not only do I see through your eyes, but everyone else’s at the same time.

“You need glasses, is what you need”, Butter scoffed, and if it wasn’t for despair weighing down on Nightingale’s shoulders, she would’ve laughed.

Orix’s footsteps came closer to her. “You still have her soul, don’t you?”

I don’t have her soul. It’s off wandering the rooms in peace forever, the Entity replied, and she almost let out a sad, dry chuckle. She didn’t know if it was true, but it was only a matter of a few days before she found out. If it was true, what would happen to her when she’s gone? Why wasn’t she the soul, but the vessel?

Orix moved away from her, towards the rift, with confident and relaxed steps. “Now let’s talk about expanding. Making other rifts.”

Only one rift can be open at once. More will cause reality to collapse, the Entity explained, and Nightingale felt the slightest touch of relief. So at least that wasn’t a problem. Neither of us want that.

Orix was quiet for a moment, and the only sound Nightingale heard was the eerie screeching of the rift, punctuated by the quiet, echoing calls.

“Hey, you know Syphus?” he finally spoke up again, and she perked up, listening closely.

Yes.

“I think his daughter could be of great use.”

Syphus had a daughter? She immediately realized what that meant. In looking for Syphus she had endangered not only his wife, but his daughter as well. And what if he had other children, too? After all, she barely knew a thing about him.

To get him in?, Entity asked, clearly interested, and she finally found in herself the strength to get up from the ground.

“Stop… stop…” she rasped, supporting herself on her shaking arms. “Please… no more…”

I’m glad I picked you, Orix. You have a great idea.

She forced herself to stand up. “Please… no more…” she whispered, looking into the moving shadows of the rift, where Butter had disappeared.

And then her gaze slowly shifted to Orix, standing right next to it proudly and with confidence, as if he ruled this place and wielded some unimaginable powers.

He could’ve been.

She didn’t care.

“…You.” She sneered, and reached out for her sword, feeling anger burning in her fingers, as if they couldn’t wait for a way to let out all of these emotions swirling inside her, even if dimmed by the absence of her soul. She looked straight into his eyes.

“I am getting my soul back for the sole purpose of killing you with my own bare hands.”

Intimidating, the Entity remarked sarcastically. Orix scoffed.

“I’d like to see you try.”

And suddenly, almost as if her body moved on its own, Nightingale drew her sword and lunged forward, slashing down in a wide arch, hoping to catch Orix by surprise; he instinctively raised his arms to shield himself, stumbling backwards, and the blade left a shallow gash on one of his forearms.

“I tried. Right there”, Nightingale panted, anger coursing through her veins, fueled by all of the fear and despair she’d felt ever since she first saw him. “Would you like me to try again?”

“Go ahead”, Orix challenged, drawing his own sword.

Nightingale wasn’t a fighter in any sense of the word. She’d never fought. Never trained. The only few times she had to resort to violence was when drunk men tried to take advantage of her in the towns she traveled through, and even then she always had someone by her side.

But right in this moment it didn’t matter at all.

She gritted her teeth and leaped towards Orix again, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly with both of her hands, putting all of her strength into bringing the weapon down at her opponent with no proper aim; all that she felt was the fury, like a flood that crashed down after the dam broke.

Her blade met Orix’s with a sharp grit of metal crashing against metal; she took a step back and aimed for his side, but he blocked her swing again.

She growled and raised both of her arms again, aiming for the boy’s neck.

And he used this opportunity to sink his sword into her unguarded chest.

She opened her eyes again and realized she’s looking up at the night sky, laying down on the cold stone between Belkyndron’s towers; before her vision cleared, she could’ve sword she saw the Watcher’s three-eyed face staring down at her, disappearing between her blinks.

So she wasn’t dead. Not really.

Not yet.

She felt her strength, albeit limited, flowing back to her legs as she walked down one of the bridges, onto the grass again, towards the church again. Not yet.

As she neared the ruined building, the Entity spoke up. The Gatekeeper is difficult to kill, vessel. I told you that.

She didn’t respond, stopping at the overgrown entrance. Orix was still standing in front of the rift, sword in hand, and he looked at her as his eyes catched the movement.

It’s a shame, Night.

She wanted to try again. She wanted to swing at him over and over and over again until one of the attacks finally hit its mark, even if she had to crawl back here every single time.

She stood there, unmoving, calmly meeting his gaze across the aisle, under the swinging vines.

I am closing the connection to this world now. I’ll be back. I need to form a plan. Goodbye, Gatekeeper. Goodbye, eyes.

She took a breath.

“Orix,” she raised her voice, so it could carry over the broken pews, the shattered glass and the bloodstains and reach the Gatekeeper, as the shadows broke down and disappeared behind him.

“I will hunt you down and kill you if it’s the last thing I do before perishing. You can be sure of that.”