Darkness. Shadow. That was all he knew. That was all she knew, too. He hurt. His thin limbs were bruised and he wasn’t sure if they were broken. He knew she was broken, though. He could feel it in his heart, just as he knew she could feel him.

They only knew wired dog cages and chains and a thin mattress on the floor. Thin arms were wrapped around him, her nails sharp and her head tucked into his neck. His was tucked into hers, too.

This was how they’d been since they had been born. Together. One. Separate parts moving as a Thing.

That’s what they were. A Thing. Maple and Mable, the Thing. No one bothered putting their names on them, nor telling them what they were.

They had only known darkness. When the world shook and light was shown, they did what any sane Thing would do.

The Thing explored. The Thing didn’t regret it, even though they knew it was their time.

A cold maze lacking food and water. The shivering, hugging Thing. What could only be described as moving stone coming after them. Moving stone and biting beds and mists that showed them everything they never knew they wanted to see.

The Thing saw itself, healthy. Itself, not abhorred for existing.

That was the worst of the maze, though. Sometimes there were wandering creatures covered in white fur and standing on two legs and spewing falling parts of itself in the cold, cold stone of the maze.

The Thing knew not what snow was, knew not that what they were seeing was not what was natural. The Thing only knew it was one, that it had only seen darkness before the light, and that it had failed its other half.

Death encroached as a loud noise roared out, and the Thing could relax knowing its suffering was over.

While it had failed itself, the Thing had experienced Life.

Oh what they would do to keep it.

Mable glared defiantly at the monster encroaching, having eyes the same color as dark amber. Maple simply stared with his oddly pink eyes and pure white hair, watching, hoping to see a way to escape. A way to keep Them alive. To keep It alive.

“OVER HERE, ASSHOLE!” A loud voice echoed out across the maze.

The Thing watched, furious and cold as the white monster walking toward it turned.

Then it saw something beautiful that it had never seen before.

A figure oh-so-beautiful in color and appearance. The moment the figure swung out, more of his beautiful color sprayed from the white creature, staining the walls and ground and It.

The cold of the stone grew warmer as the color sprayed everywhere, coating them and tasting beautiful.

What was it?

“Hey, are you okay?”

The white-haired half of the Thing spoke, feeling the intent of his other half through a glance.

“What is this?” Maple asked quietly.

His voice was quiet and rough from lack of water, but the awe was clear in his tone. He was sure of it, because the beautiful figure seemed warmer as they crouched, staring at the Thing.

“That’s blood. It’s what flows through all of us. It’s what keeps us alive,” The figure said calmly.

Blood.

“Who are you?”

The figure made a noise the Thing had never heard before. It sounded like a less painful whimper, or maybe a short series of… Maple glanced at Mable, but she seemed just as edge as him.

Was the figure injured?

“People call me Blood,” Blood said after a moment, standing up and reaching out with both hands, “Come on, grab my hand. I’ll get you guys to safety.”

The Thing held no wary feelings, and thus reached out. The hand that grabbed theirs was very warm.

Warm enough that it burned, but the Thing didn’t mind the pain. The Thing didn’t mind the pain at all, so different to the frigid feeling of the pain that accosted them daily.

Gray and black and blood covered everything that wasn’t white, the stone covering everything having odd lines in it that the Thing didn’t understand.

Stone could be in sections? They had only ever experienced solid slabs of stone that encompassed them in their basement.

The painfully warm Blood wrapped arms around them, and the Thing had experienced an uncomfortable feeling as their feet left the ground.

No pain followed except for the pain the warmth gave them, and the Thing wrapped around Blood.

Tap, tap, tap…

Blood’s footsteps were relaxed, and the weapon Blood had used was next to Mable’s hand. Mable stared at Maple as Maple stared at Mable, their heads resting on the collar of the warm, safe, nice Blood.

So nice.

Their mother only spoke of shitty people and trash men, including their father that had died and abandoned them to her. The Thing had no idea such wonderful people such as Blood existed.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Thing knew it would have been left to die, had it been their mother that came across the cold white monster. That had it been the majority of people they would not have survived.

Their mother loved to show them stories heroes and show them how fictitious the stories were. Their mother told them what reality was like. That she was doing them a favor for keeping them where they were, in the basement. In the dark. In the cold.

To find someone nicer than their mother, someone who followed the ideals of the fictional heroes they’d grown up hearing of?

The Thing knew it shouldn’t, but it couldn’t help but trust Blood.

“It’ll take a few hours to get where we’re going. If I find any potions I’ll feed them to you guys. How long have you been here?”

The silence stretched for only a few seconds before Blood speaks again, voice quieter, “Right. What are your names? How old are you guys?”

Tap, tap, tap…

The sound of Blood’s footsteps were comforting to the Thing.

“I am Maple, that’s Mable. We’re the same. We’re…” How many years had their mother complained of them being a burden, again? “Seventeen.”

Tap-thud-thud…

Blood stopped after tripping over the segmented flooring.

“You guys are very small for seventeen,” Blood said quietly, voice not sounding accusatory nor expectant.

Blood sounded like the Thing did, when Maple apologized to Mable. Felt like Mable when she gave Maple a caress of his arms after being unable to protect him.

Maple was naturally weak, so Mable took it upon herself to protect him. Maple repaid her by being her words, and speaking for her as she’d lost the will to speak quite a long time ago. Mable even unable to find the will to speak to Maple, her other half.

Why would Blood feel a way they felt toward each other? Their mother never did, and never spoke of the feeling they held.

More than just they felt such an emotion?

Panic filled them when Blood set them down. The cold seeped into them faster than before, and they clung to Blood, not wanting to be left alone again.

Blood didn’t leave them, though, searching through a bag and pulling out two potions the same color as blood.

“Drink this.”

They did, and an odd sort of warmth infused them and their stomach. Mable and Maple stared at Blood as he shrank. In his visor, they saw themselves. Thin emaciated flesh became smooth, and bones vanished under healthy layers of skin and muscle.

Hair covered their faces, their eyes peeking out from the mess of straight hair. Pitch black hair and limp stark white hair. Honey amber eyes and a frosted pink stare.

They were covered in blood in the visor, their faces morphed in an expression they’d never seen before. Not that they’ve seen many things, before.

“Oh. You’re taller than me, now,” Blood commented, looking up at Mable, then looking over at Maple, “You guys look really good, actually. Are you twins?”

Look… what? Good. They had only ever been called ugly eye-sores. Creepy, sometimes, though that was more aimed at Maple than Mable.

Were they twins?

“What… are… twins?” Maple asked slowly. His voice was smooth and deeper than it had been. It wasn’t a high-pitched rasp anymore, and his tongue felt weird.

Blood shifted, shoulders rolling as he looked around with a confidence that belied his anger. Maple wasn’t sure what he had done to create such ire in a hero such as Blood.

“They’re siblings born from the same mother on the same day. You’d be twin brother and sister.”

They were twins?

“We are,” Maple agreed, glancing at his twin sister.

She looked back, her expression as curious as his. They had known of twins in the stories they’ve heard of heroes.

Did they look the same, aside from the hair and eyes?

Blood hummed deep in his throat, speaking when their eyes snapped to him. When they saw their own reflections, they felt pride at seeing their twin reflected in themselves.

“Well, I can’t really carry you guys when you’re this big…” Blood said, then hesitated, sighing, “What am I saying? I have to carry Lawrence all the goddamned time, it’s fine. Here, come on, I’ll take you to camp. You can be carried or you can walk, it’s your choice.”

The twins looked to each other, then looked to Blood. Soon much larger, stronger arms wrapped familiarly around Maple, and it was like Blood was one of them with how smoothly he fit.

Their legs were wrapped around Blood, their arms keeping him in their center. The Thing was better.

The Thing had thought the fog that gave them images of their deepest desires were the worst in the maze, but maybe they were wrong.

After all, they were staring at each other, seeing exactly what they had seen in the fog.

Blood had done this. Had given them the ability to see the other in perfect health.

The last shred of cold left them for the moment, the hollow in their chest filling with warmth and the taste of blood.

The taste of Blood.

When they got to the camp, they saw more people than they ever have in their life. It was loud, and a lot, but Blood ignored it all and walked up to a person twice his size.

Mable’s arms tightened, and Maple could feel her hostile energy. They wouldn’t win, but they would protect Blood at any costs.

They didn’t need to, though. The Thing relaxed as Blood ordered the ones beneath him as he rightfully should. Unlike in the stories the military worked for the heroes, it seemed.

Maple and Mable were brought into a room that burned and hurt. It was hot. It was searing hot. Maple could see Mable giving him a confused, concerned look as he clutched at the hero and her.

“Oh, right, you’re an albino. Those have really sensitive eyes, right?” Blood murmured quietly, sitting down.

Blood reached up and adjusted Maple’s head, and soon he could relax as the burning sensation faded to only encompass his skin, his face and eyes spared in the dark crook of Blood’s neck.

An odd squirming, writhing, pulsating thing wriggled against him. He reached up, his fingers brushing against—oh. It was Blood’s jugular vein.

Mable reached out, fingers brushing the same part his did. Understanding relaxed her shoulders. Mable brushed her fingers against his side, comforting him.

He sent appreciation her way in the form of a momentarily tightened hold, relaxing as he held the seated Blood. It was only after the pain fully faded from Maple’s eyes that he could feel his legs digging into something warm and softer than anything he’d ever felt.

“This is a bed, you two should get to sleep for now. I have to go out again—“

“Don’t go,” Maple begged without thought. Mable begged for the same way, pulling away to stare into the visor even as she held Blood and Maple tighter.

Blood stopped, shoulders tensing and posture straightening. The Thing thought it messed up, thought that the emotion was offense. Then Blood shifted, and the Thing felt an odd twisting in their stomachs and burning in their eyes as they realized they made Blood uncomfortable.

Would their hero leave them for daring to ask for them to stay?

Would their hero take back the warmth?

“… Okay,” Blood said softly, relaxing with a heavy sigh.

His voice was full of something so soft and so full of quiet emotion that the twins didn’t quite understand that it made the burning in their eyes trail down, scalding their faces.

The Thing had never cried before. In the stories heroes always told people not to cry.

The Thing didn’t mind this feeling, though. Not when they could see, feel, and taste a hero that their mother had always told them was false.