Tayte plodded up the slope exerting her already exhausted legs. Her muscles felt like they were glued in place, every step she took gave out the sensation she was stretching them well past their breaking point and were about to tear.

She kept her good hand wrapped around the snath of her Relic as she clambered up the mountain and she maintained her hurt hand up as if an invisible sling was keeping it in place— the strenuous effort to keep it up was preferable to the stinging pain that came from letting it dangle down.

The once fresh air was now dry and excruciatingly cold. It had less oxygen with every breath she took in like trying to breathe through a straw.

On top of all that, her clogged ears refused to pop. Despite every swallow or forceful stomp, she’d make now and then—no dice. Making the sounds of the winds muffled and distorted.

The same for the sounds of her weeping.

If only it were the physical pain making her eyes well and blurring the path in front of her. It would’ve been much easier to deal with.

Something materialized up the path. Her eyes narrowed, trying to make up the image.

Tayte halted as she felt her heart sink and her ears, at last, popped.

It was her mother wearing an apron over a red, polka dot casual dress.

And Tayte thought she was under-dressed for climbing in this altitude.

Edith had a wry smile plastered on her face as she looked down at her daughter. “See what happens when you don’t listen to your mother?” he started in her regular silvery voice, sweet with a dash of condescension. “All you had to do was be a good little girl like how we raised you to be to take over the funeral home with a loving companion. Now, look at you. You’re a murderer.”

Tatsunori’s headless, withering corpse flashed in Tayte’s mind, staggering her back. She attempted to shake the image out of her head, it stopped blocking her vision completely but lingered as a clear after image, lying right next to her flinty mother.

Edith put a hand on her hip. “You probably killed the only person who likes you.”

And with that sentence, sharp as a knife, Tayte’s chin pulled up as her eyes widen.

“What? Stop lying to yourself, you know how she felt about you.”

Tayte bit her lip and fell to her knees.

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“Or don’t tell me… you think the Ugandan kid does?” Edith said in the middle of a chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself, dear. You know that he is just using you. We’ve established that.”

Tayte shifted her gaze from the ghostly image of Tatsunori’s corpse and to her mother, back and forth. It was hard deciding which was harder to stare at.

“You made a promise to me, Tayte. You promised you were done with this crap.”

A deeper, monotone voice arose from behind.

“You were on your way back…”

Tayte turned back, hissing at her persistent aches, and saw her father, Nicholas, in his usual funeral director getup—an all-black suit and tie that somehow had more life and personality than his facial expressions.

“You worked so hard,” he said. “Why are you backtracking to that place?”

“This is how you’ll die,” Edith said, calling back Tayte’s attention. She pointed down at Tatsunori. “And it’ll be even worse than this.”

“What do you think will be on your epitaph?” Nicholas added, calling Tayte back to him. He made an eerie smile that stretched across his cheeks unnaturally. The corners of his lips were almost touching the base of his ears.

When Tayte slowly moved her eyes back to her mother, she had the same horrific smile on her face. Her youthful features were losing vigor with her skin graying and pulling down as her eyeballs sunk back. “Alone,” she said in a honeyed voice.

Tayte turned her head back and forth as her dead-faced parents piled on.

“Unloved,” Nicholas said.

“Unwanted,” Edith said.

“Maniac.”

“Psychopath.”

“Monster.”

“Demon.”

“Junkie.”

“Addict.”

“Here lies…”

“Tayte Enberg…”

“A miserable existence,” Tayte finished for them, eyeing the ground as she sprinkled it with her tears. They burned much more than the field of fresh, bloody cuts on her face. She began to fall frontward but it felt like an eternity for her as she relived all the moments she had with Tatsunori.

How much she wronged her.

She could’ve been her first real friend if it wasn’t for the inner beast she poorly tended to… no. It’s not like it was another entity altogether. It was her essence. Maybe, Tatsunori was better off dead than getting close to her.

Tayte finally hit the ground, allowing the blades of grass, dirt, and smushed insects to mix with the blood and tears on her cheek.

The unusual quiet that filled the scene prompted Tayte to lift her head and the visage of her rival and mother was replaced with the macabre sight of a cross-shaped tombstone.

She, fearfully, read what was inscribed on the base of the stone—HERE LIES, TAYTE ENBERG. SHE GOT WHAT SHE DESERVED.

Tayte smirked, and then made a soft whimper. “Fitting…”

A raven landed on the tip of the tombstone and looked back at her. The infinitely black eye of the creature pulled a memory from deep within the bin in her head she refrained from rummaging in.

Something that she shouldn’t have forgotten came up. “Her name was…” Tayte mumbled.

The tombstone began to corrode and crack, and the black bird took off.

“Tomoka.”