William Dately promised himself that he wouldn’t cry; not when he had to be strong for her. She’d been so afraid just a few hours ago, and though she’d fallen asleep through absolute necessity he feared that even there she wouldn’t find peace. She hadn’t the night before or even the one before that. No, Isabella had only complained of her illness taken form throughout the shape of brisk nightmares set in torturing her through both mind and body. She spoke of a strange horned man who spoke funnily and seemed to constantly laugh at some joke for which she was unaware. Dately had told her that these visions weren’t real and possessed no true power, but after seeing her wide frightened eyes he simply relented and agreed to stay with her throughout the night.

Wiping the urge to sleep from within his mind Dately stood up from the small chair plastered beside his daughter’s bed. He offered a quick kiss along her brow flinching somewhat at the intense heat of her fever. It seemed worse than before, although he hoped more than anything else that it was merely his imagination.

“Daddy?” Her voice was soft offering within it the slightest hint of her still stuffed nose. “Are you leaving to work on your play?”

Dately offered her a small smile and nodded. “I am?”

“Will you tell me a story first?”

He sat down along the edge of her bed wiping a few brown strands from along her face. “Oh, and what kind of story, mouse?”

“A good one.”

“Oh, a good one? And here I was hoping to pedal off one of the bad one’s on you.” Dately clicked his tongue as the girl laughed. “You’re too smart for me, duck. Let’s see, a good one. Oh I know. How about one with Mr. Mouse?” He reached past her then pulling the stuffed animal from where it sat with the other such toys.

It was clearly older than the rest and lacked the same cutesy appeal as some of the more modern toys. In many ways it was actually quite ugly with its oversized teeth and ears, discolored tail, and overly sad eyes. But Isabella hadn’t seemed to mind, in fact she’d latched on to it all the more saying that he didn’t deserve to be lonely based upon his looks. Even the ugly animals need friends, daddy. He’d been proud of her then and had latched on as well crafting various stories for the two to share.

Offering her the animal and smiling when she took hold of it Dately began to think aloud. “Okay, one story and then back to bed. Sound fair?” Isabella simply hugged the toy all the tighter and nodded her compliance. “Now then.”

There once was a mouse who was setting about

When he spied a piece of cheese that had been set out

But tried as he might he could not reach

So seeing his need a crow came to preach

“Worry not mouse, for I can fly.

I’ll surely scurry up and bring that cheese by.

All it will cost you is the larger end

For I am much bigger and bringing it by to begin.”

“That’s not what a crow sounds like?”

Dately raised an eyebrow at his daughter’s protest. “Oh? You don’t think so?” She shook her head. “Higher or lower, then?”

“Higher! Like when they caw.”

“Like this: CAW CAW!”

“Noooo, that’s lower!”

“Oh, it is? Silly me, I always mix up the two. Let me try again; Caw Caw. Is that better?” Isabella nodded through a laugh. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” Dately cleared his throat before continuing on.

Shaking his head the mouse would not be

“You ask to much sir, so scurry off and flee.”

Rolling his eyes the crow flew away

Only for a fox to come out of the gray.

“I’ve heard of your peril oh Mr. Mouse

And assure you I will bring the cheese to your house.”

“But what will it cost” asked the mouse.

“Oh nothing to major just a little favor

Now shall we be done and you sign this here waiver?”

Thinking about it the mouse relented

And saw that in fact he only benefitted.

So nodding his head and looking a gander

He received his cheese and couldn’t so much as slander.

“Daddy, what’s slander mean?”

“Hmm? Oh, It’s like when you say bad things that aren’t true about someone.”

But as the years went by the fox returned

To ask for all in which he’d earned

“Oh hello mouse, I see you are well

Boy oh boy, my payment sure would be swell.”

Thinking a tick, and recalling for a bit.

The mouse relented and said “Fine, ask for it.”

“Well as you recall I wanted a favor

And seeing as how I’m wanting a particular flavor

I ask for a bit, one meal for another

For you to give to me that of your lover.”

Shaking his head and refusing as much

The mouse couldn’t believe that he’d ask for such.

“You can’t have Mrs. Mouse for she is my love

Why have you come here as if just to shove.”

“You made a promise to me all those years ago

And I am here to now make it all so.”

Knocking the mouse aside with shinning white teeth

The fox ate up his wife as if she were beef.”

“Noooo, he ate his wife!?” Dately nodded attempting to suppress his smirk. “That’s not a happy ending!”

“Not all stories have a happy ending, mouse. But they do all have something to learn; a high price paid up front is better than an unknown price paid later. Now try to get some rest, Belle. Daddy needs to go work on the play. Dately leaned over and kissed her brow once more before standing fully and bringing her blankets up to her neck. “Sleep tight, I love you.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

“Do you want the door open or closed.”

“Ummm, open.”

“You’re the boss.” Blowing out her night side candle Dately exited from within the room leaving his daughter to sleep off what remained of her fever.

***

Dately awoke to the sound of birds chirping. He’d been exhausted last night and had made little progress in regards to his play. His eyes were still somewhat blurred as he sat up from along his desk wiping the crust from within their corners he cursed the spilled ink that lay dried along the page’s edge.

“Shit.” Examining the damage Dately let out a small sigh of relief as the dark flow hadn’t seemed to erase anything all to important upon the draft. Picking the bottle and quill up and replacing them a new he stood before glancing down at his blackened hands and sleeves. He’d need to buy ink later, and perhaps have his jacket cleaned though it was old and was perhaps unworthy of the costly fees.

Pulling it from along himself and draping it across the chair he relented in seeing that the ink had so too bled into his shirt’s sleeves. Stifling his annoyance he bit his lip. It’d be a problem for later, but for the moment he’d see after Isabella. She’d seemed to be within better spirits when he’d told his story, and perhaps she’d be up to helping him in the kitchen as she’d always enjoyed doing with her mother. Some normalcy would be good for the two after the last few weeks.

Exiting from within his office Dately made his way down the hall and on to his daughter’s room. Offering a gentle knock along the opened door he peaked in before speaking. “Mouse, are you feeling better? Do you wanna help me make breakfast?”

There was no response from Isabella as she laid still along the bed. Taking a tentative step within the space Dately felt as his blood ran cold. “Isabella, sweetheart.”

As he drew closer he saw that there was no rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. Her grip upon Mr. Mouse had gone slack, and her skin seemed pale even for that of Dahlia’s winter chill.

Feeling a subtle panic begin to take hold of his throat Dately hurried off on to his daughter’s side. Her flesh was cold when he gripped her wrist lacking of that all too human warmth in addition to that of any such pulse. He swallowed then, just managing to choke out a desperate plea as he began to slightly shake her.

“Isabella, come on baby, wake up. Wake up, it’s okay…daddy’s here.”

Despite his urging her body remained limp and in seeing as such he pulled her into a tight embrace and began to weep.

***

Dately couldn’t bear to watch as the men moved the body from within the room, so he stood off to the side his gaze a distant and almost purely hollow venue focused on nothing in particular.

“Will-Will.”

Dately blinked turning slowly on to the pestering voice. Although it took him a fair few seconds he recognized the man as the first of the responders to arrive. He was shorter, although not by much. His hazel eyes held within them a look of forced sympathy only highlighted by the overall relaxed nature of his stance. He continued on in his speech as he saw that he now possessed Dately’s full attention. “We’re going to go ahead and take her over to the temple. It’s important to start the rights of passage as soon as possible to make sure that her soul doesn’t get lost between planes. You could accompany us if you’d like.”

Dately shook his head. “You go ahead. I need to…I need time to…I thought that she was getting better. She seemed so much more lively last night, you know. She laughed and she…” Dately trailed off and against his better judgement he glanced into Isabella’s room.

“Will, there wasn’t anything that you could have done. The gods, Dacian, sometimes he just-”

“He just what?”

The man glanced away, his gaze shifting as his teeth pressed into his bottom lip. “It was…it was just her time to go.”

“Seven? Seven was her time to go? Look, I get that you do this every week or so; collecting bodies for your god. But you don’t have to fake sympathy for me. You can just go. Your jobs done after all, right?”

The man opened his mouth as if to speak more, but closed it soon after before nodding curtly and stepping towards the stairs. Dately watched him leave, his black cloak billowing behind him like that of a darkened cloud.

Hearing the front door close behind the men Dately took a tentative few steps into what had been Isabella’s room. He wanted to straighten it, to make the bed and open the curtains on to the morning’s light, but it didn’t feel right. To change it from how she’d left it with a few toys laid haphazardly across the floor and all other manner of mess. It made it feel, lived in as if she would come back and continue on within her play.

Glancing around he noticed Mr. Mouse where he lay adjacent to her indented, pink pillow. It seemed wrong for the toy to be left alone given how tightly Isabella had clung to it. She’d practically taken the thing everywhere with her, and yet it still sat here. Picking up the toy Dately met it’s beady eyes and in that moment he no longer felt the need to bite back his emotions.

***

The stench of alcohol was heavy upon his breath as Dately glanced around the fading kitchen light. His fogged mind was unsure of the time although he knew that it had to be late. The table was a mess of bottles for which he struggled to avoid contact with as he stood from within his seat. Stumbling, he braced himself along the chair’s back before clenching his eyes closed. The room seemed to be spinning, and he wasn’t in the best particular mood to deal with it. Taking a step away from his crutch he repressed the urge to vomit. Just a few choice steps and he’d be able to relax within his own bead, taken away by the easy distractions of his subconscious. But that wasn’t true, not anymore. If anything it was simply a short term solution to his ills as his inebriation had been. In the end he’d wake up alone to inhabit this reality in which his wife had left him and his daughter had died.

Dately tried to shake his head of the thought as he began in the arduous walk to the houses second floor. The stairs had seemed to increase in number as he made his way along them, but after some time in his struggle he found himself stumbling against a wall and into the littered and lonesome mess of Isabella’s room. It took him a scarce moment to notice, his hands wiping along his ever blushed face. He was drunk, but not so much so to have lost his way. The house wasn’t that big and in truth this was the last place in which he wished to occupy.

Turning back toward the exit he blinked his eyes before biting along the cusp of his lip and journeying back into the hold of the room. Mr. Mouse remained in place along his daughter’s pillow. The thing seemed so alone and within the same vein as he himself. Picking the felt toy up he began to pet it before wandering back off and into the hall.

“I suppose that you don’t want to be alone either.” His voice came through in a harsh and broken whisper as he pulled the toy closer onto his chest. Mr. Mouse did not answer although even in his inebriated state Dately hadn’t expected as much.

Leaving the room for his own Dately closed the door carefully behind him. Its slight squeak forcing a delayed wince from him as the chill of the night’s air made itself known.

Blinking and rubbing along his eyes he marveled to find himself standing upon his room’s balcony. Glancing around he watched on at the expansive city beyond him; how it seemed so unchanged by Isabella’s death while his entire world had been shattered to pieces. Looking back into what should have been the warm comforts of his room Dately took note of the plush toy lain upon his bed. He didn’t remember placing the mouse there, but as things currently stood that much was to be expected.

Affixing his attention back on to the city beyond Dately took a deep breath; his condensation hanging out like a thick cloud of smoke.

“You’re not going to jump are you?”

Dately jumped at the spoken words of the other turning himself directly on to their sound. The man was leaning along the edge of the balcony’s rail, but even scrunched over as it was it was clear to see that he stood well below Dately’s own height. His skin was of a scarlet hue with broad horns and wholly yellow eyes that seemed to watch him with a particular interest.

“W-who-”

“You smell like a brewery.” The man cut him off his thick tail rising up alongside him to wag idly. “It’s a shame really, you’ll need to be sober for this next part, and these are never particularly pleasant to take.” Standing independent of the balcony’s aid the man reached within his finely tailored jacket and pulled from it a small vile with a thin dark liquid swirling within. “Here.” Extending his hand he offered Dately the vial with an expectant look. “Relax, it’s a sobriety potion. I’ve been told it tastes just like alcohol.”

Watching the man Dately extended a tentative hand and took the offered solution before pulling its cork free and downing the bitter liquid. It was somehow worse than alcohol within its peculiar taste, and he couldn’t help but flinch heavily at the result to the man’s over all laughter.

The two waited a fair few seconds before Dately grunted and took hold of his now throbbing head. “Shit.”

“Hangover? Unfortunate.”

“Uh, how did you get in here. Who the hell are you?”

The man shrugged, “I let myself in and figured that I’d speak up now before you did something that we’d both regret. As for a name you call me Cyrus; I’m the Devil of Dahlia.”

Dately shot his head up after hearing the other’s remark though he soon regret it as another sting of pain made itself known throughout his mind. He’d heard of devils before, but had believed them to be the product of legends by those who wished for some excuse or other to do away with the Tiefling race.

He searched the man’s face for some semblance of sardonic humor or other, but found none. “You can’t be serious.”

“But, I am.” Cyrus smiled, “Would you be more comfortable inside. I know that humans tend to catch a chill in lower temperatures.”

“I’m fine.”

The devil shrugged and offered a small smile. “Have it your way.”

“What ever you’re selling I’m not interested, so you can just go?”

“Even if I were offering your daughter?”

Dately watched the fiend carefully searching his face for any sense of deceit before speaking. “You could do that?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Maybe if you were born a few thousand years ago I could, but then the gods got all uppity about ‘their territory’ and what not. Nasty little bit of legal work their actually. I’m afraid that dead is dead now…well as far as we’re concerned, anyway.”

“Get out.”

“William, I didn’t say that I couldn’t help you.”

“Get out, I don’t care about anything else. And I don’t want whatever fucking, shit you’re offering.”

The devil blinked as he straightened his posture and fiddled with his cuff. “I said that I couldn’t bring her back to like. I didn’t say that I couldn’t help her live on.”

“What’re you talking about? What does that even mean!?”

“It means that I’m here to offer you a favor. One in which I hope you’ll gladly accept.”

“And what? I work for you or-”

Cyrus raised his hand effectively silencing the man. “No, that’s a common misunderstanding with mortals. A deal binds us together. A favor is one transaction for a promised future transaction. Understood?”

Dately nodded.

“Good. I read over a few of your stories before showing myself. They’re cute and I’m sure that children just love them. You’re an artist, though not a very successful one from what I’ve surmised.”

“Get to the point.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow before relenting to his before held smirk. “There are other sick children out there, not unlike your own daughter. Wouldn’t it be something if your stories could reach them? Help them, and not in some sort of abstract emotional sense. No, really heal them. You could save other parents a fate such as the one befallen you.”

“Why’re you offering me this now? Why not before?”

“You weren’t on my radar before. Really, I’m only here at all because an associate of mine is looking for new talent. Ellios Vanguard, lives right here within the city. You go to him saying that I sent you, he buys the rights to and publishes your stories or adapts them into plays or whatever, you both become tremendously wealthy, and children with what would otherwise be deadly illnesses miraculously recover.”

“And what do I owe you in return?”

“You work with Vanguard exclusively. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, as far as the favor part goes. There are some rules.”

“Such as?”

“You can’t tell anyone that the stories have this effect. I really don’t need a certain god to find out that this is happening. It’s not illegal purse, but it’s definitely a gray area.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“The process for this spell is going to be a little complicated, because the spell is complicated…You know it’s better if I just show you.”

Dately flinched as he felt the stark heat of a bright flame encompass the two of them before feeling it die away all the same as they stood within his office. Glancing around for the devil he spotted him as he began to clear objects away from upon Dately’s desk.

Sighing, Cyrus placed a green flower along the now clear table before turning to face the man behind him. “This is one of Lyric’s green carnations, and this,” He pulled a dark feather free from within his vest’s outer pocket. “Is a feather from one of Dacian’s angels. Whenever you’re to write your story boil the carnation within a pot of water and use this feather,” he held the black feather aloft once more, “as your utensil within its ink. Now this is important, the spell won’t work unless you use a devil’s scarlet flame as its source of heat. I’m going to provide one for you, but it won’t last forever. Understand?”

Dately nodded his head as he watched the devil move over toward his fire place and begin to pile wood within it. “Ellios owes me for this. I don’t usually put this much effort in, but you’re a complicated case. Both of you are.” The last part was more mumbled than his earlier exchange, but Dately heard him nonetheless.

It didn’t take long for Cyrus to finish his work and light the wood a flame with that of his fingertips. Standing up and dusting his clothing clean he smiled toward Dately revealing his sharp fangs as his thick tail began to wag behind him. “We’ll seal it with a handshake then.”

“Wait, what happens after I run out of ink?”

“Then you’re out of ink and the favors over,” the devil shrugged. “The stories penned within the ink and reproductions of them should still carry the magic however, just nothing new. So,” Cyrus extended his hand on to the other, “what’d you say?”

Swallowing whatever reluctance remained within his throat Dately reached forth and took hold of the devil’s hand. “I’m in.”

***

Lord William Dately sat somewhat transfixed as the actors before him rehearsed. They had begun a bit stiffly and seemed almost awkward within their portrayals, but when given the right amount of both direction and time they’d more than loosened up to truly encompass what their, what his characters were truly meant to be. Leaning over within his booth he readjusted his glasses before the sound of chamber’s doors made him known to Ellios’s entrance.

“You’re late.”

“They’re only rehearsing, William. Besides I wouldn’t be late if we could just meet within my office as normal. What on Cephin is so important that you had to drag me down here anyhow? And why do you insist on sitting way up here? My knees aren’t exactly what they used to be.” Ellios sat down alongside his associate being sure to smooth the folds along his pristine, emerald robes. His auburn hair was beginning to gray around his temples’ edge with a slight bit of recession that the man had gone to an extra effort to hide just above that. His hands were decorated with various gold rings all of which he’d told Dately the meaning of at one time or another though the man had long since forgotten over the two’s five year partnership.

“It’s my box. Plus I feel that the actors give more… natural performances if they don’t know that the boss is watching let alone both of them.”

Ellios nodded as he adjusted one of his rings. “I assume that you didn’t invite me here just to see the show with you.”

“Astute as always Ellios. No, some things need to be seen for themselves to be understood.”

“Okay, so show me.”

“Just watch.”

Ellios relented with a slight sigh and allowed for a silence to fall between the two as the actor’s once again took their first marks. The show seemed standard at first with each reading throughout their cursory lines and taking form as their character’s throughout. They’d opted to rehearse within costume as to better grasp what it would feel like given the night of their performance a month from now.

“I don’t get it, what am I supposed to be-”

Dately raised his hand, silencing the other man as he simply pointed back on to the stage. Ellios scowled no longer wishing to hide his annoyance as he returned his gaze back toward the display below. They were working throughout the scene in which Isabelle moved on through to Mr. Mouse’s world. He’d read over it a few times and had even seen an earlier version by which other actors read for the role. Ellios had personally found the whole thing to be a bit on the nose, but never truly had the heart to tell Dately. The portrayal had obviously meant a lot to him, and writing it had at least seemed somewhat therapeutic for the man.

Refocusing his gaze he moved it from the actors and on to Everett as he sat within the empty seating. His chin rested firmly along the intersection of his thumb and fore finger as he sat leaned over within a hunched state. He wore a hat who’s name Ellios could not recall despite it being emphasized to him about a dozen or so times within their workings together.

“Alright William, I get it you have an eye for detail-”

“The girl.”

Ellios glanced down at the young actress before shrugging. “What about her? We had to cast a bit older. You know what it’s like working with young kids. No one will notice.”

“No, I understand, The way that she keeps glancing toward the director.”

“She’s looking for direction, William.”

Dately shook his head, “No, she looks… nervous.”

“She probably is. She’s a kid.”

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“No, I did my research; this isn’t her first role.”

“So that makes her immune to nerves?” Ellios rolled his eyes his chair softly creaking as he leaned back within it. “You know I have a business to run right? One that pays the bills and makes all of this possible. So why don’t you stop being coy and tell me exactly what you want.”

Dately tore his eyes away from the stage and met Ellios’s own for the first time since his entering. “We should fire Everett.”

Ellios raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me? You know he’s the best in the city, right?”

“No, he’s the alleged best on the mainstream scene. I’m sure that if we looked-”

“Opening night is in a month, and what do you even want to fire him for? An actress being ‘nervous’ around him? Who cares, honestly you’re probably just seeing things. If you have something of substance to say about production then you know where to find me.” Elios stood before turning away from his friend and slipping his gloves back on.

“Wait.”

The producer paused, “What?”

“I’ve heard things about him…”

“What sort of things?”

Dately bit his lip, “There are rumors that he…assaulted a young actress in a previous production of his.”

“Lyric above, William. That’s just slander slung by his detractors. Have you even actually talked to him about it?”

Dately shook his head. “I talked to the actress though she was reluctant to speak to me at first, but after hearing her story I believe her.”

“And this was part of your research I take it?” Ellios retook his seat tearing his gloves free and replacing them into his pockets.

“It was, she’s been black listed by the way.”

“Well did she have any evidence?”

“Other than her story?”

“Obviously.”

“She seemed distraught.”

Ellios rolled his eyes. “So what’s the rule now? We just fire someone on the grounds of an unsubstantiated accusation? Give me a break. What if someone said that about you? Would you want me to throw you to the wolves? She was probably just looking to spread a bit of gossip to get her name in the papers again. You know how these types are; didn’t get enough attention from mommy and daddy as a child so now they need it from everyone.”

“Look, you put me in charge of the creative end of things, because I understand it better. I don’t tell you how to advertise for the shows or help the production avoid taxes. This is a creative decision and I’ve made up my mind.”

“Have you ever even talked to the man beyond phatic expressions? At least have lunch with him before doing something so drastic on the words of a harlot. I’ve gotta go, don’t do anything insane.” Standing once more Elios briefly regarded the other before resmoothing his robe and exiting the booth. Dately watched him leave before returning his gaze on toward the show below. Perhaps he had been overzealous within his haste, the two would speak as Elios recommended; man to man.

***

The restaurant was a blare of utter chaos as Dately sat enjoying his afternoon coffee. The taste was bitter along his tongue though it kept him alert as he scribbled throughout his journal. He enjoyed people watching; most especially the lower classes. They carried themselves differently than those within his circle; far less care for anything in regards to their overall appearance, always seeming slacken over by an utter sense of restless anxiety interwoven with a robust tiredness. On days when he was feeling more romantic he liked to tell himself that he wrote for them. That his work made their lives all the easier, but in truth he knew that it was most likely the other way around if there was any relationship at all. That would change soon enough with his play’s debut if the devil was to be believed.

He watched a dwarvish family for the moment with their restless sons. They were giving what he assumed to be their mother, though it was hard to tell with the beard, a very hard time. One of the five in desiring more attention had knocked his plate onto the floor and when the woman still hadn’t taken notice he began to, within a louder and more obnoxious manner, eat from the ground. The woman had eventually gotten the message as signaled by her shriek of utter repulsion and pulling of the child back into their booth.

Dately couldn’t help but to laugh. He had at one point desired a son as most men did, but in seeing things like this he was more than happy to be blessed with a daughter instead. Isabella had always been so much quieter and would never have done something as repulsive, although perhaps that was more so a dealing in class as opposed to one of sex. He would most likely never know. Returning his gaze back on to the group he watched as another dwarf approached with a large sign in hand. He was dressed within the smeared mining gear and mouthed something for which Dately could not hear on to the woman who simply nodded and motioned for the children to stand and join her as she too pulled a sign free of the floor for which Dately had not before noticed.

The play write watched as they left, his attention being pulled from the strange group as the director took a seat across from him. The portly man seemed uncomfortable within his space as he affixed his narrow eyed gaze upon Dately.

“Sorry about that, Will, can I call you Will?”

"Lord Dately is fine.”

Everett nodded, “Of course, Lord Dately, and apologies for my tardiness. I had a bit of trouble finding this…restaurant. Honestly, I thought that I’d misheard you when I finally located the place. Did you want to maybe go somewhere else, maybe somewhere more… high end?”

Dately smiled, “No, I didn’t, here is fine.”

“…Right.”

Everett glanced around and opened his mouth as if to had something further, but was interrupted by the sound of a chipper waitress’ voice. She asked for their orders or if they’d prefer more time with the menu.

Handing his menu back toward the smiling woman Dately began to speak. “I’ll have your chicken shapes.”

“…And I suppose that I’ll have a bit more time with the menu.”

The waitress nodded and left the two in peace to continue from whence they’d left off.

“Chicken shapes?”

“Some sort of dwarven dish.” Dately waved his hand. “My daughter used to absolutely love it. I used to bring her here all the time. You know, no where in the inner district can you get this sort of deep fried food. It’s very cultural to the dwarves. I used to try to make it for Isabella, but she said that I never did it correctly. I’m sure that you’ll love it.”

Everett nodded, “Well with a glowing recommendation like that how could I not try them.” He smiled though it did not meet his eyes as he closed and replaced the menu. “…Lord Dately, is there a reason that you invited me here?”

Dately raised an eyebrow before glancing up at the other man. “Is a social call not enough? I just figure that you and I don’t really know each other all that well.”

“…I-”

“But if you really must know; I’m deciding whether or not to fire you.” Everett closed his mouth his eyes searching the man’s for some indication or other of humor, but they were left wanting and instead only found an otherwise cold disposition. “Celiana Edwards.” The name left Dately’s mouth with little in terms of emotion though he could feel the beginnings of rage heighten within him as he studied the director once over. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

“…You’re referring to the allegations.”

“I am.”

“And you spoke with her?”

“I did, she maintains that they’re true. I imagine that you maintain that they’re false.”

Everette sat all the straighter as he met Dately’s eyes. Bits of perspiration were beginning to clump and run into one another as they streaked down along the man’s forehead. “Of course I do.”

“I thought that you’d say that, and we would be at an impasse, but when I spoke with Ms. Edwards she had this particular look in her eyes; as if she was reliving something, something that she’d rather forget. And when I spoke to young Eleanor she had the exact same look whereas you possess one of a guilty man.”

“Will-”

“Lord Dately.”

Everett frowned and let out a small sigh before allowing for a smirk to overtake the before downturned corners of his lips. “You’re not going to fire me.” His tone was defiant, self assured within its delivery and by that point Dately had had enough.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t utter the words as he desired. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten the phrase or didn’t wish to speak them more so that he was simply unable to form the correct combination with both tongue and mouth. He scowled as the director smiled all the more.

“Tongue tied, Will?”

“Explain yourself.”

Everette shrug. “I believe that we possess a mutual friend; perhaps you could go ask Cyrus.”

The play write’s eyes widened at the mention of the devil, but before he could speak once more the waitress returned placing his portions before him with that all too cheery smile. “And have you made up your mind, sir?”

Everette leaned back along his side of the booth and matched the waitress’ smile to the best of his ability. “Actually I believe that my friend here was just leaving. I’d be more than happy to take his plate though and cover the tab after his glowing recommendation.”

The woman nodded as she slid the steaming plate across to the other. “Of course, just let me know if you need anything else.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, sweetheart.” Everette watched as the waitress left before returning his gaze over toward that of the play write. “Thank you for inviting me out to lunch, Will.”

***

Dately eyed his business partner offering little in the ways of reluctance before the man finally gave in with a small sigh.

“Fine, you wanna talk to him; I’ll call, but don’t be upset when it turns out to be something that you don’t want to hear.”

The play write shrugged. “Ellios, I assure you that I can handle it.”

Ellios rolled his eyes as he stood fiddling with the folds of his emerald robe. “Honestly, you really should just let this whole thing go.”

“I should let the sexual abuse of children go.”

The producer paled, before turning himself away and on to the painting behind him. “…No, I suppose you couldn’t.”

Dately studied the other man as he lowered the painting onto the ground and began to fiddle with a safe for which he could not see, but nonetheless knew was there. Waiting patiently he thought over what he’d say when the devil arrived. A moral plea was unlikely to work, in fact it perhaps guaranteed that the devil would simply laugh in his face. He’d have to offer something in exchange for action. He’d been lucky enough the first time with his favor being a simple extension of Ellios’s will, but now he needed to put his own skin into the game; to offer something of value on to the fiend.

“Here.”

Dately glanced up meeting the other man’s eyes. Ellios was sat back within his desk; his hands clasped around a small hand mirror brimmed within silver along its back and handle. The craftsmanship was fantastic with flame like designs winding around the item’s face before cultivating along its top with a scarlet eye seemingly cut from the deep reds of a ruby.

“It’s a devil’s vanity. Don’t look into it until you’re ready to talk to him.” Ellios extended the item out making sure to keep it face down as Dately wrapped his fingers around it. He was surprised to find it warm to the touch, and felt as his nerves began to bunch.

“A vanity isn’t just a mirror, you know.”

Ellios smiled, “And I’m sure that you two will enjoy discussing the various nuances of language. Using it will probably leave you with a headache. It gets worse the longer that you're on it so I’d make it quick.” The producer bit his lip before glancing back on to the mirror and then his friend. “You don’t have to do this William, no one will think any less of you for looking the other way. Cyrus is…difficult to deal with, I of all people should know.”

“Isabella would, in fact she’d be Eleanor’s age had she survived. Could you imagine that Ellios?” He met the other man’s eyes. “Your own daughter?”

Ellios shook his head before standing. “No, I couldn’t…I hope you find the justice that you’re looking for William. I uh, I need to go for a walk. Lock that mirror back up for me when you’re done, will ya?”

“Of course.” Dately watched the other man leave before reshifting his attention toward the mirror clutched within his hand. He let out a deep sigh before turning it over and gazing within it.

To his surprise the reflection was dark and at first showed him nothing, but after a time or two the surface seemed to shimmer as if it were a disturbed pool of blackened water. He saw the devil then, his breath catching within his throat at the other’s appearance. His head began to ache then, though it was subtle and easily bearable.

“What do you want Vanguard- My, William Dately. We haven’t spoken in quite some time. So he loaned you his little magic mirror then? This outta be good. Something else I can help you with?”

“Everette Archie.”

The devil raised an eyebrow his thin lips curving into a smile that managed to reveal the ends of his fangs. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“You offered him a favor, something that stops me from firing him.”

Cyrus tapped along his chin, a quizzical look over taking the yellow hue of his eyes. “Mmm, maybe it’s familiar.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t remember every person that I give a favor to Dately. Hell, my warlocks are lucky if I remember their names. If you say that I offered him a favor then sure I probably-” The devil snapped his fingers then. “Ohh, the fat director. I do remember him.”

“Okay, well you see that’s a problem, because I need to fire him.”

“Well yes, I imagine that that would be a problem.” The devil smiled once more. “So what do you want?”

“I want you to undo the deal.”

“That’s not how it works; we’ve each fulfilled our end of the bargain and that’s all that can be said for it. If you’d caught me earlier maybe I could, but not now.”

Dately sighed a sting of pain running throughout his skull, “Then…ugh, will you offer me a new favor at least?”

“That depends, what exactly do you have to offer?”

“I suppose that that depends as well; what exactly do you want?”

Cyrus smiled, his face moving closer toward the glass. “Well that’s a start at least. You’ve worked your way into a far more prestigious position since we last spoke; this allows for quite a few new…opportunities. People like stories as an intellectual pursuit. It can shape the way they think about things even if on a subconscious level. Of course everyone knows that; no one ever just writes ‘Orcs bad’ on a piece of paper and assumes that it’ll start a war. No, but a few 100,000 words in just the right sequence at just the right time can turn any idea into a reality, even without magic.” The devil winked and paused as if expecting a response. When receiving none he continued on: “I’ve got a friend who works on the board of Silver-Hand Mines, and some shit stirrers have been giving his bottom line quite a bit of trouble. Something along the lines of unionizing or some such nonsense. The two organizers aren’t human, half elf and tiefling, so it really shouldn’t be so hard to other them. I assume by this point that you understand what I want. A play; a bit more adult in nature than your usual work, but I’m sure that you can handle it. From their maybe public opinion begins to shift and maybe a new law gets popular enough to pass, the silver continues to flow, and your little problem goes away. Everyone’s happy.”

“Except for the miners.”

“Oh don’t be like that; they really don’t know what’s best for them. They’ve been ideologically possessed by radicals and can’t see the broader consequences of what exists around them. In truth if-”

Dately flinched as the pain returned in force, and raised his free hand to quiet the devil. “I’ll do it.”

He smiled, “Wonderful. Now I suppose it’s on to your end.”

“I-I want evidence; something that proves beyond the shadow of a doubt what that piece of shit did.”

“As much can be arranged.”

***

William Dately couldn’t help but squint within the ill fitting light of the moon’s over hanging presence. The night had seemed all the colder as he watched his breath hang within the air as a thick cloud. Crumpling the small page within his hand he nodded to himself before stepping fully onto the house’s porch and rapping his knuckles along the wooden door. The sound was firm and reassuring; there would be no turning back now for tonight would be the end to all of this.

The woman who answered the door was shorter than Dately with an curtain of black hair that fell loosely along her shoulders. She seemed tired with a slight sluggish disposition centered throughout her movements as well as bags beneath her scrutinizing gaze. The Lord recognized her immediately as Eleanor’s mother.

“Lady Eisner I take it?”

The woman nodded.

“Lord William Dately, I hope that I’m not interrupting, but there was just something that I needed to check on. May I come in?”

Lady Eisner stepped aside opening the door to the man all the more. “You’re the writer, right?”

Dately nodded fiddling with his cuff as he entered within the dwelling. “I am, and you’re Eleanor’s mother. I’ve been watching the rehearsal’s and she’s been doing a fantastic job.” The play write continued on throughout the foyer as he heard the door click closed only to be followed by the distinctive sound of Lady Eisner’s shoes following not far after him.

“Well I’m happy to hear it.” Her tone was forced as she passed him offering a small smile that did not meet her eyes. He swallowed, following after the woman and into the den as she took a seat and gestured for him to do the same across from her. “What can I do for you Lord Dately?”

“Yes well it’s been brought to my attention recently that there might have been…that there have been some problems on set in regards to Eleanor’s treatment and safety.”

Lady Eisner raised a thin eyebrow to the remark crossing one leg over the other as she leaned forth. Her eyes narrowed with her mouth drawing into a thin line. “You people said that this wouldn’t happen again. It’s going to cost a lot more this time around.”

Dately blinked. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m not much in the mood to play games, Mr. Dately. Make your offer and I’ll tell you if it’s enough. If it isn’t then I suppose we can go that other way; postage isn’t very expensive after all. And I still have a friend or two at the Dahlia Times.”

Dately could scarcely believe the words for which he was hearing in tandem with the disposed and borderline disinterested tone coming from Lady Eisner. He sat in silence for a long time her face unchanging as he studied her. “You took a bribe on behalf of your daughter’s abuser, and then you sent her back to him.”

“Lord Vanguard said that he would handle the situation. He obviously failed in as much, and so here you are.”

Dately swallowed, “Vanguard?”

***

Ellios flinched at the swirl of scarlet flame before him. Its heat and brightness almost impossibly tense as he moved to shield his eyes. Despite their many dealings the man had never truly grown accustomed to this part or really anything about the devil for that matter. In truth the fiend had become more of a last result whose attention or ire he hated to draw.

“Do the flames feel that hot to you from so far away?”

Ellios lowered his guard and took in a deep breath before nodding if only slightly.

“That’s fascinating,” Cyrus offered a smile, “So, what can I do for you this time. Vanguard?”

The producer scowled, “That depends, are you actually going to do as I ask this time? You want him to write propaganda!? What the fuck for!?”

The devil shrugged his tail swaying slightly behind him as he took a seat before the other man. “Eaves dropping, really? Well not that it’s any of your business, but I owe someone a favor.”

“You were supposed to ask for his stake in the company. If this whole thing goes south, which it looks like it is, then this is going to get very ugly legally speaking.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“I’m your warlock!”

The devil raised an eyebrow surprising a small chortle. “So you are. Am I supposed to do everything at your behest?”

“You’re supposed to do what’s best for the both of us, because my best interest is your best interest. That’s what you said when we met, right?”

“You know, I have a friend; he keeps warlocks as pets, thinks they’re cute and babies them in all sorts of ways. I however, am not particularly interested in that sort of thing, but to each their own. Let me ask you something,” Cyrus leaned back within his seat. “did you have that girl’s best interest at heart?” Ellios frowned. “No, I suppose not.”

“So what is this? Some sort of punishment for my immorality?”

“Immorality? Do you believe that what you did was wrong, Ellios?”

“…It was necessary.”

“The only one punishing you is yourself,” Cyrus shrugged, “and I suppose Dately when he gets here. Oh, is that what this whole thing is about? You think that he’ll do something drastic?”

Ellios bit his lip, a hand moving to rub along his wrist and then fiddle with his rings as he moved forward. “I don’t know, but yes: I would like for you to be here in case things become heated. I just need to explain to him why I did what I did. He’ll be angry, but he’ll get over it. In the mean time I’d like for him not to do anything regrettable.”

“Vanguard, If you want a body guard then hire one for yourself. I have better things to do than babysit mortals.” Cyrus stood up, his hand fiddling with a link that had come loose along his cuff.

“Wait! What if I can help you with the strike? In a way without William? He’s talented, but his work usually takes a while.”

The fiend glanced up from along his sleeve his slight smile showing a hint of his fangs. “I’m listening.”

***

William Dately hadn’t been altogether surprised to find Ellios absent from within his office that night. Though the man usually worked long hours the play write’s realizations in tandem with the other’s odd behavior were more than adequate an explanation as to his disappearance. What did come as a shock however; was when he entered into the other’s estate to be met by that of the devil. He’d been banging along the door’s fine wooden structure demanding entry; half expecting and all too willing to remain outside all night if need be.

His rage had cooled then as the devil’s golden eye’s poured into his own and bid him entry. He’d followed within a muted silence before meeting his partner within the den. The producer had averted his eyes when he entered the devil gesturing for him to take a seat across as he snapped a reddish flame to life within the fire place.

Dately complied, his mind running blank as he sank into the plush couch and glanced between the two. Ellios was drinking; scotch by the looks of it. He gestured as if to offer Dately a glass, but seemed to think better of it before reconsidering whole sale and pouring one regardless. His hand shook.

“I understand that you’re angry William, but I would like an opportunity to explain myself. If you would allow as much.” The producer leaned over offering the glass on to the other, but simply placed it before him when Dately’s hand did not meet his own. Ellios cleared his throat before repositioning himself within his seat. “Everything that I did-”

“You went behind my back, tacitly endorsed the sexual abuse of a child, and now you want to make excuses. Worst of all you don’t even have to courage to face me yourself. No, you call him in.” He pointed to the devil, his earlier anger returning in force. “What the fuck kind of man are you?”

Ellios flinched lowering his glass and raising his hands in what he hoped to be a pacifying manner. They were talking; that was good. It was better than falling whole sale into a fight. “He’s just here to ensure our safety. To make sure that things don’t get out of hand.”

“I came here on the off chance that what I heard was a lie, but I can see now that it wasn’t.” Dately stood up not bothering to throw the producer another glance.

“Wait where are you going. William! Do not walk out on me! William!” Ellios shot up throwing a glare toward Cyrus’s way. The fiend simply smiled before disappearing and reinhabiting to block the door way.

Dately glared at the beast before turning back to face Ellios. “Tell him to move.”

“Not before I’ve spoken my piece; you owe me that much!”

“I don’t owe you a gods damned thing.”

Ellios’s eyes narrowed. “You owe me a lot more than you think. While you got to play around living out your life’s dreams I was the one making all of this shit happen. Do you know why I couldn’t tell you, William? Because you’re fucking soft!” Dately’s eyes widened as the producer took a step forward and around the table. “You have never been able to do what it takes to succeed. You wanna cry about one little girl who suffered a little bit to make thousands in silver? What about all the other kids working to make your merchandise? Do you think that those Mr. Mouse plushies just spring up by themselves? What about the miner’s strike that you were more than happy to crush for your own benefit? What about the paper that you write on? The Caprice Confederation doesn’t have a large lumber industry after all. And we both know how uncivilized the non-human countries can be. You’re more than fine with so called injustice as long as you don’t have to see it, right!?”

Ellios was unprepared for the strike when it made contact along side his cheek. The blow was stinging eliciting a harsh sound of hard bone against flesh as he stumbled back. His hand moved towards his lip on instinct as he pulled it away to reveal a tinge of crimson along his finger’s edge. Stumbling back onto his feet the producer glared at the other man as a swell of anger made itself known within his chest. He was unconscious of the next part as he spat the leaking blood back into Dately’s face. “Got that out of your-"

Ellios’s line was cut short as the other man charged him; his arms wrapping around his waist as the two were thrown over the couch. The impact was heavy upon his back forcing a bit of air from within his core. He was unprepared when Dately’s next blow collided once more with his face. The effect was dizzying as his head began to swim. He was vaguely aware of the devil’s seemingly far off laughter before the blows ceased and the weight lifted from along his chest.

Dately fought against the devil’s pull; an elbow aligning within his torso as his legs so too began to kick. Cyrus seemed amused by the efforts, but gave no other reaction save to restrain him. His movements were quick; more so than Dately had expected, and to his overall surprise the beast’s hold seemed iron tight as if he’d been shackled whole sale.

“There’s really no point in your struggling. Honestly, I doubt that there’s anyone in this plane capable of breaking my grip except for me.”

Dately ignored the devil; his thrashing becoming all the more erratic as the beast pulled him back. He watched as Ellios struggled back onto his feet though he still seemed dazed as he watched Dately. The well composed man seemed almost unfamiliar to him within those moments. His hair was ruffled and lacked within its usual well ordered sheen. His eyes panicked with an almost somber note as they failed to meet his own. Gone was the before assured self confidence that the man had always managed to carry himself with and Dately knew within that moment that he despised him for it.

“It took you long enough.” Ellios’s breath was heavy as he struggled to straighten himself before altogether relenting within the effort.

“Oh you’re fine.”

Ellios scoffed before addressing Dately. “You can’t leave until we work this out. So what’d you say that you stop-”

“We aren’t working this out Ellios! This business, our partnership, our friendship; it’s fucking finished! You ruined that!”

For the first time that night the producer looked surprised as he opened his mouth. “You don’t…” He swallowed and dropped his eyes before addressing the devil only. “Can you make him forget…Just everything relating to this? Please, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The devil roared with laughter. “Things relating to this and only this, no? Memory manipulation is imprecise, difficult. So many coils all interwoven with one another. How a person feels about things. Really who they are as a whole.” Cyrus shrugged, “It’d be much less hassle to just kill him though I don’t exactly see what I’d be getting out of that. I promised to play body guard; nothing more and nothing less.”

Ellios bit his lip. “S-silence?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Can you make it so that he can’t speak about this? Like bind him to silence; I’ve heard of mages doing it. Surely you can.”

“Hmm, I suppose I could.”

Dately had since ceased within his struggling as he listened to the two men speak. He had panicked at first, but in hearing the devil’s noncommittal tone an idea sprang to mind. All he would need was an escape, a simple favor, and he could take care of the rest. He’d inform the city guard and though the business would know doubt come to an end it would more than be worth it as there was no other way for which to continue forth. He calmed his breathing and allowed for himself to lay slack against the devil. It would have to be something that the beast was incapable of refusing as he’d likely only have one shot.

“William, I really am sorry that it has to be this way…it’s just that-”

"Ellios, I really don’t want to hear it.”

The producer relented, “I understand, and I hope that you will too one day. Nothing comes for free after all.”

“No, it doesn’t. Cyrus, I’m offering you a blank check to do with whatever you want on the condition that you release me.” Dately didn’t have to turn around to know that the devil was smiling as he felt his grip loosen.

“Deal.”

He wasted no time in breaking away from the beast and making a break for the door. Ellios watched on in rapt horror as his partner grabbed hold of the handle and began to exit. Everything within the moment seemed to slow on to a crawl as he threw the devil a panicked glance only for him to shrug and mumble words for which he could not hear. It would all come undone if Dately were allowed to progress. All of their hard work, all of his sacrifice; it would all be for nothing purely because his friend couldn’t see.

His body seemed to move upon its own volition within those few, scarce moments. He’d hurried over toward the table unthinking and grasped hold of the scotch bottle tossing it with all his strength towards the other. The impact was immediate the sound of its loud shatter coursing throughout the walls of his house in a seeming echo as it collided it time with the back of William Dately’s head. The man fell limp at the collusion.

***

The woman before him was beautiful with blonde hair tied back into a tight braid. She was self-assured, that much was all to clear by the broad smile plastered across her face as she sat reclined at a large desk with a few strands of her flaxen hair seeming to blow within a wind of which Dately could not feel.

“William Dately.” The woman shifted slightly her voice holding within it a soft and musical quality for which the play write found truly enchanting. “You have had a very unfortunate turn of events my friend.” She leaned forward then her right leg overlapping with her left as she began to study him.

Dately swallowed as he felt himself shrink within his seat…had he been sitting before? The details were hard to recall, even in the broadest of scopes. Everything around him seemed unreal, almost fabricated as if he existed now only within a dream.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The woman frowned, an expression of hurt flashing throughout her eyes. “Of course you do.” She snapped her fingers perking up ever so slightly, “Allow for me to give you a hint: I’m The First Muse.”

“…I-”

“The Always Imagined? Forever Dreamer? The Great Beauty? Oh come now; you must have heard at least one of these before.”

Dately shook his head.

“I suppose coming up with your own aliases will do that. I really don’t even know why I waste my time.” She sighed before offering her hand toward the other allowing for a green flower to grow within her palm.

“Lyric.”

“The one and only,” she winked before taking her hand back and placing it into her lap. “I’d love to offer you one of my flowers, truly I would, but alas we’re having a bit of legal trouble.”

“Wait…” Dately bit his lip and searched his mind for any such answers as to how he’d ended up here. His hand moved toward the back of his head with fingers combing throughout his hair. He felt the wound, though none of its blood as he remembered the injury that had likely brought him about. “He killed me.”

The goddess frowned. “If it makes you feel any better it was an accident.”

“It doesn’t.”

She shrugged, “I suppose that it was worth a try.”

“You said that there was legal trouble.”

Lyric’s mouth straightened. “Yes, there’s been a counter claim made upon your soul.” She uncrossed her legs and glanced down at her desk. “A devil says that you owe him an unspecified and unfulfilled favor. Unfortunately, I really can’t let you into my domain in accordance with the cold peace despite your obvious artist’s heart.”

“The cold peace?”

“A legal matter.” Lyric waved her hand as if the mere mention of such things repulsed her. “I have my top aids fighting on behalf of your admittance, and luckily they were able to keep you out of hell until the dispute is resolved. However, these sorts of thing take time.”

“How much time exactly?”

The goddess shrugged and offered a sympathetic smile. “It could be a while, perhaps centuries…or a millennia. It’s hard to tell, really.”

“I see.”

“I’ve upset you.”

“No- it’s just that…I wasn’t exactly ready to die.”

“Well most people aren’t, but I assume that you’re referring to the unfinished business with your former partner. That was quite the ugly matter I suppose.”

“Yeah, it was…Is there any way to, maybe help me finish it since we have so much time?”

The goddess shook her head. “That’s not how I do things.”

“I see…”

“Now now, it’s not all doom and gloom. I think I have something here that could in fact lighten the mood.” The goddess stood up and gestured for Dately to do the same. “Follow me won’t you. I think that you’re going to like this next part.”

***

No one cried harder than Ellios Vanguard at the funeral of William Dately. He’d done everything within his power to make sure that his friend would have a proper send off. He’d organized for a performance of one of the man’s older works, set about in announcing a new printing of plays for which he had not finished within an anthology set and donated the proceeds to a few of the city’s larger orphanages, and in seeing that even that held no effect on rectifying his guilt he brought the man’s land and converted the home into a museum in his honor hoping that all may learn of his story or at least… a version of his story.

In the end it never seemed to be enough and if he were honest about it was true beyond all else that he’d grown to hate himself. He longed for someone to talk to, for someone to be honest with, and even briefly considered the fiend before laughing the idea away as bitter self-indulgence.

Instead he’d thrown himself into his work hoping that if he could perhaps do justice to the stories of Mr. Mouse then he too could see some way to his own redemption. He’d hired security to stand by at rehearsals and keep an eye upon Everette Archie. He was still unable to fire the man, but at least this measure made his predatory nature nearly impossible to act upon. In the end the play performed well both monetarily and critically. He’d gone to it’s opening night and was not ashamed to say that he wept as the curtain came to a close. There would be other performances of course, but for the time being he’d had his fill.

It was a fair evening when he’d come back from the theatre and found his office to be strange, though he couldn’t quite place his finger upon why. Clearing his throat and closing the door behind him Ellios glanced around the area before shrugging the feelings off as mere paranoia.

Making his way toward his desk he couldn’t help but flinch as the apparition of William Dately appeared before him within his chair. The thing did not at first speak, but simply motioned for him to sit within one of the seats before it. Ellios obliged though the whole scenario felt unreal.

The ghost, if that’s what it was, seemed not too dissimilar to the man that he’d been in life though with a faint glow or shimmer seeming to resonate from around him. The two watched each other for some time before Ellios finally dropped his gaze and began to mumble on to himself words of comfort for which even he couldn’t clearly make out.

“Look at me.” The spirits words held within them a strange resonance and echo like quality as if he were speaking from within a cave.

Ellios simply shook his head in response or lack thereof.

“Nothing happens until you look at me.”

“A-are you real?”

“Not as much as I was; I can’t interact with the mortal plane save through vessels of Lyric, and luckily enough for the two of us you just happen to count.”

The producer nodded wiping along his eyes before meeting the other’s and speaking. “William, I am so sorry. I never wanted any of this to happen. I’ve been trying to make things right and-”

“I know, we’ve been watching for a while. The play was quite lovely actually, my favorite part was the security that you hired. Although some would argue that it’s too late for such matters.”

“And what do you argue?”

The ghost shrugged, “Only that you can’t fix the past no matter how you may try to spin it. It’s always there in a permanent state of imperfection waiting for someone to unearth all of its horrendous secrets.” The specter laughed within its detached echoey tone “At least it’ll be of aid to the children, I suppose.”

Ellios nodded, “William, why’re you here, exactly?”

“Oh, there’s been a bit of legal trouble do to the meddling of your patron, and I’ve been cursed to journey throughout the mortal plane until it’s resolved.” Dately shrugged, “I’ve got to do something to kill the time. I thought about punishing you for a long time, and I suppose that I’m still considering it. Although helping young artists find their voice sounds so much more fulfilling, besides I wouldn’t want to set a bad example for Isabella.” Ellios blinked, his expression morphing from one of sadness to utter confusion though Dately ignored him. “It turns out that my little girl had the heart of an artist putting her beneath Lyric’s per view. And the goddess was more than happy to allow her to accompany me. She can’t grow up of course, neither of us age anymore, how you die is how you stay so that’s unfortunate. But I’m grateful for the consolation prize nonetheless.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“No, I suppose that you wouldn’t. Could I offer you one last piece of advice, from an old friend?”

“Of course.”

“This guilt that you’re feeling, it can’t be buried beneath unrelated good deeds. Sooner or later it’ll eat you alive. Turn yourself and Everett Archie in Ellios. Its time that you both faced real justice.”

Ellios shook his head. “I can’t do that William.”

Dately shrugged, “If that’s what you believe. I hope that you can find peace within yourself if not forgiveness from me.”

Ellios opened his mouth as if to retort, but closed it once more and instead watched as the specter left him to his own thoughts. Unfortunately for him that was the last place in which he wanted to occupy.

***

The man who had once been William Dately exited from within the building. His body, or lack thereof, stood unfeeling towards the winds for which he knew blew past. His conversation had taken a fair bit longer than he’d expected, but he was glad to have said his piece and in turn be capable of moving forward.

He found Isabella not far from where he’d left her. The girl had obviously grown bored and had begun to draw figures within the snow of a rotund rodent that he knew all too well to be her beloved Mr. Mouse.

“Having fun, mouse?”

Isabella glanced up and shook her head. “No, I was just doodling.”

Dately nodded and knelt down alongside her. “I can see that. It looks pretty good. No wonder Lyric had to let you in.” Isabella giggled causing her father to smile. “Well since you’re just about wrapping up what’d you say we go somewhere new with all sorts of undiscovered stories to hear and read.”

“Like where?”

The play write shrugged, “Anywhere. Tell ya what, why don’t you pick a direction and we’ll go and see what we run into.”

Isabella raised her hand from within the snow and tapped along her chin for a few seconds. “Even that way?” She asked pointing off toward the south with a broad grin.

“I don’t see why not.” Standing up Dately offered his hand toward his daughter and helped her onto her feet. “Shall we?”

She nodded, raising her arms high above her head allowing for Dately to lift her onto his side as he did many times before within life. And as he began to walk off throughout the snow he left no trail behind him save for those of bad memories that he hoped would soon be forgotten as he and Isabella moved on to start a new.