Whitney Brode was no stranger to nightmares. She had weathered them her entire life, whether they were about her childhood fears of spiders and mirrors, or her deeper, more insidious insecurities. The Nymph had spent countless mornings lying in sweat-soaked sheets, gasping for breath after particularly bad night terrors, but all it took to calm her down was to remember the sage advice of Gulliver. Back home, he was always there to offer a kind word after every sleepless night, even when her parents were too busy managing their businesses or arguing with one another to notice.

But Gulliver wasn’t here. And this nightmare… it wasn’t like anything she had ever seen before. This one just went on and on and on.

The details were hazy, but she distinctly remembered a celebration at Bloody Hell, that strange little club nestled in one of Brimstone’s narrow backstreets. Everyone had planned a surprise party for her, and what was even more surprising was the fact that Karazelle was the mastermind behind the whole thing. She never could figure that Succubus out. One moment she just wanted to grab her by the hair and give her a good throttling, the next… well…

The Nymph had surprise parties before, but they were always the same old fare. Grand events organised by her mother or father, attended by whatever business partners were in town at the time and hosted at various exuberant venues from all around the city-state. Her seventh birthday was a gala at a four star hotel. Her thirteenth was in a rented-out mall. Her seventeenth, a castle. Beautiful locales, flashy guests, presents upon presents… and it was all so hollow. Even as a child, Whitney could see that even her birthdays were just glorified networking events. Her parents put effort in to ensure she had fun, sure, but they were never really there in the moment.

But Bloody Hell… A handful of her friends in a club that had seen better days, with cheap drinks, hastily made snacks and a few gifts that had clearly been purchased at the last moment?

It was perfect.

She wanted to linger in that memory. She could remember it the clearest, but afterwards… Cobalt had to leave for one reason or another, and Whitney decided to join him. They travelled to a nearby pharmacy, nobody was at the counter, and then… what? A stranger arrived, and he…

She couldn’t remember. All Whitney could recollect was how she felt in the moment. First fear. Then apprehension. A flash of defiance, regret, and then pain. It didn’t stop after that.

Screaming, begging, sobbing, gasping… and yet the pain only intensified. Like her very life-force was draining from her body, the Nymph was plunged into an icy pit of intense enervation, unable to move or even think. It felt like it lasted year, and even though her mind was splitting from the high-pitched screech of her internalised screaming, at the edges of her perception she could hear sounds. A mechanical hum. A hoarse, sneering tone. And…

Cobalt. She couldn’t misplace that voice of his. Gentle and firm. A voice that never failed to put her worries at rest.

But he was scared, she could tell. He was guttering and choking, until he was silenced by the gruesome sound of-

No. She didn’t want to think about that.

She didn’t want to linger on this any longer.

Whitney had been out of it long enough. She just had to open her eyes, stare at her dorm room ceiling and slowly count to ten. Take stock of everything around her. Hum a tune. Pluck her guitar strings. Ground herself back in reality just like Gulliver had taught her to.

It was time for Whitney Brode to wake up.

~~~~~

Footsteps. Voices. And a steady, electronic beeping. To most they were relatively hushed noises, but to Whitney's sensitive ears, they were louder than a thunderstorm. They roused her from her sleep, spurring her to force her eyes open, only to shut them again as intense light threatened to blind her.

Something was wrong. This wasn't her bedroom. The sheets beneath her didn't feel right, and she was lying on her back. Whitney always slept on her front. The air smelled wrong too. It was clean and sterile; a far cry from the comforting scent of the air freshener she had hanging in her window in order to cover up the less-pleasant odour of her overflowing laundry basket. The voices all around her kept murmuring to one another, but so many spoke at once that she couldn't determine a single word.

Her throat was dry. Even swallowing hurt.

For a moment, panic set in, but Whitney Brode was better than that. She wasn't the frightened little girl trapped in her own oversized bed after a bad dream anymore. She was better than that. She did her best to breathe deeply and forced her eyes open, wincing as the light struck her with full force.

Everything was blurry, but she could make out various blobs shifting about the room. People, she assumed, if the size and shape were anything to go by. One of them was pacing back and forth, others were shifting about by the walls, and another was slumped over her, pressing down upon her chest. Focusing on that one, Whitney did her best to blink her vision clear, feeling the sensations return to her body with every passing second.

Someone was sleeping on her. Patchy brown skin, silver hair, a freckled and bespectacled face...

"H- Hey..." the Nymph guttered, so quiet that she could barely hear herself.

The Golem's eyes slowly slid open. Their usual joviality was gone, replaced instead by a dark look of intense worry. She looked ready to cry.

"Whiddy...?" she murmured, her eyes widening.

Whiddy? There was only one person Whitney knew who could bungle her name up like that.

"L- Lot... tie..."

"Ah!"

Sitting bolt-upright, Lottie stepped out of the Nymph's field of view as she began to wave her arms frantically.

"Whiddy's awake! She's awake!" the Golem cried, her loud voice causing Whitney to wince.

The pacing figure stopped in their tracks.

"What?! O- Okay, go grab a doctor!" they commanded in a familiar voice.

Confident and feminine. Comforting and irritating in equal measure.

"Right! C'mon Lottie!"

The shortest figure grabbed Lottie's wrist and dragged her out of the room, leaving Whitney alone with the three others. They drew closer to the bed, but her vision was still trying to adjust.

"Wh- What do we d- do?" one quivering voice asked, sounding as if they were on the verge of tears.

That accent was unmistakable.

"Just... Just don't crowd her, alright? She's probably still gettin' her bearin's," spoke another, lacking the usual brash confidence they bore.

That one too...

The pacing figure, the one that had send for a doctor, rounded the bed and stepped into view. Two glittering eyes, a pretty nose, and a set of luscious lips upon a purple face that was frame perfectly by raven-black hair. Whitney glanced up at her lengthy horns, then down at her two other defining features.

"Whoretits?" she mumbled, her voice sounding croaky from lack of use.

Karazelle's face broke into a sad, gentle smile. She reached across to hug Whitney, inadvertently pressing her chest right into the Nymph. She minded it less than she thought she would, which was concerning in of itself.

"Butterskin. You're okay," the Succubus breathed, shaking a little as she held her friend close.

With her vision mostly cleared up, Whitney looked around to get a better look at her surroundings. She seemed to be lying in a hospital bed, which would certainly explain the smell of disinfectant stinging her nostrils. A heart monitor beeped steadily next to her, and standing at the foot of the bed was Jelli and Izzbelle. The Glutton was frantically wiping at her face with a fistful of wet tissues, while the Oni just stared pointedly at the floor, her face dark with discomfort.

"I... what's going on?" she asked, wiggling out of Karazelle's grasp.

The feeling was beginning to return to her body. Everything ached.

"You're safe, that's all that matters. Just take it easy, okay?" the Succubus told her, patting her shoulder.

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"Why am I in the hospital? What happened?"

Karazelle's smile faded for a moment as she looked away. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and shook her head.

"There was an accident, but it's over now. You need to rest, Whitney," she told her after a moment's consideration.

But the Nymph was starting to grow impatient. It felt like Karazelle was hiding something from her, and if there was one thing she didn't like it was being kept out of the loop.

"I don't wanna rest," Whitney said, trying to sit up.

But the Succubus grabbed her shoulders and kept her pinned to the bed. The look in her eyes was stern, but she could see a glint of desperation in them, like she was pleading for her to stay put.

"Butterskin, stay in the bed, alright? We gotta wait until the doctor gets here so-"

"Get your hands off me, Whoretits!"

With her left hand, Whitney tore off the the sheets blanketing her and threw them to the floor. Raising the other, she attempted to grapple Karazelle and push her away.

But she could do no such thing. As she raised her right arm, she froze in place, horrified at what lay before her. Where there should be a forearm, topped with a hand and five dainty fingers, was nothing, just a stump neatly wrapped with pristine bandages. It was gone. Everything below the elbow was just... gone. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be. She could still feel it; her hand, her fingers, her thumb... she could flex them if she tried, she just had to...!

"No..." murmured Whitney, staring at the stump.

Karazelle pulled a worried face and said something, but she couldn't hear her. All the Nymph's sensitive ears could pick up was the rapid hammering of her heartbeat. Her fingers... they stung so bad, but they weren't there... not anymore.

"No!" she cried, grasping the bandaged stump.

As a concerned nurse stepped into the room, followed by Lottie and Quinn, Whitney sat with her teeth gritted, her bulging eyes never moving. Thousands of thoughts ran through her head. She thought of the things she'd never be able to do again; write, draw, play the guitar, fix her hair, paint her nails, play on her phone-

"NO~!"

And just like that, the panic set in. She began to shake uncontrollably as her breathing became rapid and uneven. Her vision seemed to fade in and out and even sounds seemed to distort. The nurse suddenly rushed in from the doorway, yelling things and holding Whitney down, but she just couldn't concentrate on what she was saying. A doctor ran in from the hallway, his coat flowing behind him like a cape. Grabbing something from a metal tray, he gave it a few flicks before speaking to his colleague and sticking it into her arm.

A syringe. Filled with something that slowly calmed her down. As the Nymph's peers clamoured all around her, she rested her head on the pillow, eyes already drooping.

This had to be nothing more than a bad dream. It had to be...!

-----

What the Hell was Karazelle supposed to say?

How was she supposed to look one of her best friends in the eye and tell her that her life was never going to be the same again? That her dreams of becoming a musician were over, just like that? Seeing the confusion in Whitney's eyes turn to abject horror... it was more than she could possibly bear.

A strong hand clasped the Succubus' shoulder, urging her to look up.

"We should probably get goin'," Izzbelle told her, sounding usually quiet.

Beside her, Jelli nodded, even though she was still crying.

"We can check on her tomorrow, i- if she's up for it."

Karazelle just nodded slowly, holding her head in both of her hands.

They were all sitting out in the waiting room, unsure of what else to do with themselves. All around them, doctors, nurses and members of the public buzzed about, while security personnel were on standby to keep rubberneckers and opportunistic paparazzi away from the wards. Right now, Whitney was the talk of the town.

And it wasn't just her on everyone's lips.

When Cobalt and Whitney set off to buy some antacids during the birthday party, Karazelle thought nothing of it, as inebriated as she was. An hour passed, and Jelli began to worry. Another hour, and everyone was suddenly on edge when they didn't show up. After twenty more minutes, Dassie the bartender decided to call Cobalt's phone. He didn't pick up, and that sobered the Succubus up almost immediately.

They all set out to look for them. Dassie remained at Bloody Hell in case they returned, Quinn and Lottie headed back to B.I.D to see if they had returned to the school, and the rest went to the pharmacy down the street.

What they found... A broken door, an empty storefront, and a massive puddle of blood.

Karazelle booked it for the hospital right there and then, leaving it to Jelli and Izzbelle to phone the emergency services.

She arrived just in time. As she was frantically asking the receptionist if she had seen either of her friends, Cobalt stepped in through the front doors, silencing everyone in the hotel lobby. He was shirtless and badly wounded, bleeding from everywhere. His nose was broken and frost clung to his skin, but despite everything he just stared straight ahead, his mouth caked with blood and scraps of flesh. Thick plates of jagged, stained bone encased his arms, in which he was carrying Whitney. She was pale and unresponsive.

Her arm... it had been ripped right off.

She hadn't been able to scrub that image from her memory. She hadn't even slept since.

"Kara? You coming?"

The Succubus glanced up at Quinn. Everyone was on their feet, ready to leave.

"I... I'll be along in a minute. You guys go on ahead," she answered with a strained smile.

With a few nods and pats on the back, her friends left the waiting room, leaving Karazelle by herself. She sat in the waiting room chair for a few minutes, silently contemplating everything that had happened.

"Miss Terna?"

She looked up to see a Glutton man in a white coat standing before her. She recognised him from all the times Cobalt had been hospitalised before.

"Doc Elliott?"

He nodded and sat down next to her.

"I take it you're here to visit your friends?" he asked in a gentle tone.

"Yeah... Whitney woke up a little while ago, but... it didn't go too well."

"I know. We've sedated her for now, but it'll take a long time for her to come to terms with reality, and even longer for her to get used to it."

"I'm guessing she won't be at school for a while, then?"

Doc Elliott slowly shook his head.

"That remains to be seen. Her parents are enroute."

The Succubus slumped deeper into her seat.

"... What about Cobalt?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The doctor shifted about in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable. Glancing around at the other demons filling the waiting room, he took a deep breath and sighed.

"I ought not to tell someone who isn't his family, but... I'm not blind. You're as close to him as anyone can be," Elliott said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

With one last glance to make sure he wasn't being watched, the Glutton leaned in close.

"Truth be told, we can't get near him to properly check him out. We gave him a bed in a secure room, and he's remained there for the past few days, but any time we try to perform any evaluations, his body... reacts badly."

"What do you mean?" Karazelle asked, her eyes widening.

"Well, Nurse Colly tried to examine the, um... 'armour' on his forearms. The individual plates burst off as soon as she touched them, nearly slicing her hands clean off. Later, myself and Doctor Kerns attempted to take a blood sample, only for several of his vessels to suddenly rupture and start spraying boiling blood everywhere. Kerns got the worst of it; he's taking a few days off to treat the burns," he informed her in a low, confidential tone.

Whatever was happening to Cobalt's body... it was getting worse.

"Is he okay? I mean, does he look okay?"

"As far as I can tell, Mr. Trayer doesn't seem to require outside help to repair his wounds anymore. The broken nose, the cuts, even the knife we found in his shoulder... All bones repaired, all wounds sealed, and all foreign bodies ejected. In all honesty, Miss Terna, it's a fascinating thing. To be able to heal at such a rate off nothing but proper oxygen intake and a sufficient supply of proteins."

Doc Elliott's face suddenly darkened.

"Which brings me to another issue... Oh, I really shouldn't be telling you this..." he sighed, burying his face in his hands.

It was clear to Karazelle that she wasn't the only one suffering sleepless nights. Clearing her throat, she patted the Glutton's knee.

"Doctor, please. I get I'm just his student, but he put everything on the line for me before. If there's anything I might be able to do to return the favour, I have to know," she urged softly.

It felt wrong, trying to coax this information out of a doctor. But Karazelle wasn't lying; she needed to know if Cobalt was going to be okay.

"... We have a theory. About what happened to both of them."

"What is it?"

"Cobalt's rapid regeneration coupled with your friend's missing arm... We think he may have... Well, he's a special case, you know? We can't account for how an Incubus' mind will be affected by something like Everlast, and such psychological anomalies may cause him to make lapses in judgement. Make him see friend as foe, or... well... food."

Karazelle's brow furrowed.

"You... You think Cobalt did this to Whitney?!" she gasped, recoiling from the doctor.

"It's just a theory, Miss Terna! Like I said, we haven't been able to get close enough to-!"

"He'd never do such a thing!"

Her outburst drew the gazes of everyone else in the room, a fact that Doc Elliot was acutely aware of.

"Look, please just calm down..."

"Cobalt has put himself in the firing line time and time again for this town! And now that someone's gotten hurt, you won't even give him the benefit of the doubt?!"

"People have been hurt before because of him, Miss Terna. We can't rule out-"

"That was the Devils' fault, not him! You know what?! Fuck you!"

Standing up, she fixed everyone in the waiting room with a cold-eyed stare.

"Fuck all of you! All you people care about is sensationalism! Cobalt Trayer is a fucking hero, and none of you understand just how much shit he's going through to keep all of you safe! And the second he falters, you turn your backs on him?! Just like his father?!"

Doc Elliott gestured for one of the security guards. He marched over and made to grab Karazelle's arm, but she slapped him away.

"Don't touch me! You're all hypocrites! He's a good person, dammit! Not some freak of nature to gawk and point at! You just- I SAID DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" the Succubus screamed, lashing out as the guard tried to detain her once more.

Kicking him hard in the shins, she turned on her heel and bolted down the hallway, ducking past oncoming medical personnel as she ran.

Karazelle's eyes were streaming and her voice still burned hot in her throat. Sometimes she felt as though she and the others were the only people to actually understand Cobalt. Everyone else, especially now, only ever seemed to appreciate him as some kind of oddity, to be lauded when he sacrificed himself for others, or admonished for being something he couldn't help; an Incubus. But even more so, he knew that he would never hurt them. Not like how Doc Elliott was implying.

Reaching the lobby, she dried her tears and took a deep breath. She couldn't have meltdowns like that, at least not in public. She had to be reliable, now more than ever.

"Meet up with the others, let them know what's going on, then... get my shit together. Okay," the Succubus said, stepping outside.

Easier said than done, maybe. But nothing seemed to be easy these days.