Zeph’s fingers flexed around Applause. Her knuckles whitened and her glare sharpened. Her focus was locked on Ablee. “Let me make one thing crystal clear: I don’t pull my shots. Not for you, not for anyone. Your dad gets what he’s got coming, teeth intact or not.”
Ablee’s arms folded across her chest, her stance defiant. The wooden box of ammunition nestled snugly in the crook of her arm. The sheen of her stone-coated skin caught the lantern light, giving her an ethereal glow. “Too bad, witch,” she said, her smirk widening. “If you plan to ruin my turn with him, these stay with me. Guess you’ll just have to wait.”
Zeph snarled. “This isn’t a game of hopscotch, kid. It’s life or death. We probably won't get the chance to take turns.”
Ablee didn't falter. Instead, she stepped forward, her nose lifting to nearly brush Zeph’s chin. “If you think that way, you haven't played enough hopscotch! Cline knew if he skipped my turn, he was going to catch a fist."
The tension between them crackled like an overdrawn bowstring, both standing firm and unyielding. The shadows around the chamber flickered and danced, caught up in the heat of their standoff.
Zeph opened her mouth, her sharp tongue poised to cut through Ablee’s bravado, but the words were cut short by a deafening CRASH. The walls shook. The two spun toward the noise, their argument evaporating like steam from a fire.
Zeph’s eyes narrowed, her grip on Applause tightening. Ablee’s cocky demeanor wavered just slightly as she angled herself toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”
From beyond the stone wall, a voice broke through the fading echoes of the crash—panicked, frantic, and unmistakably Rhody’s. “ZE—PH!” Her shout was muffled, as if from the bottom of a deep well, but the fear in it cut clear.
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Inside Rhody’s room, the air was weighted with a terrible presence. A towering figure stepped into the flickering lantern light, his massive shadow enveloping Rhody. His form was stone, just like the girl Ablee she'd met moments prior. Eyes burning with otherworldly light were fixed unerringly on the trembling acolyte.
Rhody scrambled backward, clutching the red leather pouch of her Royal Tarot Deck. Its once-reassuring weight was a lifeline she didn't know how to use. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, her mind fumbling to grasp a method of escape.
He lurched forward, his stony hand sweeping through the air like a crusader's flail. Rhody threw herself to the side, landing hard as the desk behind her exploded into splinters under the weight of his strike. She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering in her chest, and dashed toward the corner of the room.
He paused. His head, framed in thick braids, tilted slightly, almost mockingly, before he lunged again. Rhody ducked beneath his menacing arm, her ponytail whipping through the air as she dived. She crawled behind the upended remains of a table, overturning it with trembling hands in a desperate attempt at a barrier.
He didn't even slow, brushing the broken furniture aside like a bit of errant dust. His ogreish hand shot forward and snagged her by the leg, his grip unyielding as iron. Rhody let out a strangled cry, her nails clawing uselessly against the stone floor.
“Zeph!” She screamed again, her voice cracking with panic as he dragged her across the room. Her free foot kicked wildly, her hands scrambled for purchase, but his strength was absolute. The weight of Rhody's pack didn't slow him at all.
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Zeph’s eyes snapped wide at the sound of Rhody's cry. She turned on Ablee, her teeth bared. “Give me the damn ammo!”
Ablee, still clutching the box of bullets with infuriating nonchalance, raised an eyebrow. “Gladly, just as soon as you make the DAMN promise!”
Zeph didn't waste another second. Her boot lashed out, catching Ablee square in the chest. The kick's force sent Ablee hurtling backward. There was no thud of flesh on stone. SCHLORP, the surface of the wall wavered, thick and fluid, like wet paint disturbed by a careless brushstroke. Ablee was enveloped by the wall, her body swallowed whole.
Tumbling into the hallway on the wall's other side, she landed in a graceless heap. Her instincts flared, and her stone-coated skin ground the box of bullets against her chest.
She looked around, dazed but unharmed. Her gaze caught on a familiar figure down the hall. Rinval, with his polearm propped at his side, turns his porcelain mask to meet her, eye to eye.
Ablee climbed back to her feet, her gaze narrowing. "Yeah, I'm out of my cell. What you gonna do about it, old man?!”
His porcelain mask tilted, the inked grin somehow smugger than before. “Ah, the little painter's slipped her restraints,” he said, his voice oozing disdain. “I suppose I have time to give a lecture on obedience while your daddy tends to the pest problem.”
Her eyes darted past Rinval, her chest tightening as she spotted her father at the far end of the hall. Rhody trailed behind him, her head and shoulders dragging the ground as he pulled her by the leg. Her small frame shuddered as she clawed at the stone floor.
Ablee clenched her fists, ready to bolt after Karich, but Rinval stepped to the corridor's center, the wicked blade of his polearm swinging across its width like a drawn curtain.
“I have not dismissed you,” he said, his tone dripping menace.
Ablee didn't hesitate. She lunged, her fist arcing toward his head. Rinval pivoted with infuriating grace; his cloak swirled as his polearm knocked her strike aside. She pressed forward, weaving beneath his counterattack and striking at his midsection. The shaft of his weapon slammed down on her knuckles, the sound of the impact reverberating like a thunderclap.
“Unlike a chain, a war band is as good as its strongest link,” Rinval mused, his tone contemplative. “Everyone else must fall in line to be dragged behind them.” His words weighed down upon her shoulders, condensing her to the naive, inquisitive girl she was years prior. She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to drink in her tutor's insights.
She rattled her head from side to side and launched into another barrage of blows, her fists relentless. Rinval’s movements were slow, but compulsive. His polearm spinned in a hypnotic dance, drawing her blows to futilely waste upon its length.
“On your father's stage, you'll want for nothing,” Rinval said, his voice pressing against her defenses. “If you'll just play the role you've been given.”
Ablee stumbled, her rhythm faltering. Her swings grow wilder, less precise, and Rinval exploited the opening, slamming the blunt end of his polearm into her ribs. She staggered back with a hiss, her breath leaving her in a sharp burst.
“I expected more,” Rinval drawled, positioning his weapon for an incapacitating strike at her head. “Even Cline somehow surpassed you.”
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Before he could deliver the blow, a sharp, mocking laugh echoed through the hall. “Oh, this is rich,” Zepharin’s voice cut in, dripping with amusement "It seems someone does know how to handle this brat!"
Rinval’s head snapped toward the sound as Zeph strode into the corridor, her golden hair catching the lantern light. Blood stained her blouse, but her grin was sharper than the stolen blade in her hand.
“I'm still here,” she said, twirling the sword in a lazy arc. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Can you repeat that? These ears of mine have trouble with soft voices,” he said, his tone still mocking.
Zeph scowled, "I know you heard me, you son of a bitch!" She didn't wait for him to respond. Her blade swings in an unrefined arc, and Rinval blocks it, letting out a soft yawn.
As Rinval countered Zeph’s strike, Ablee seized the moment. Her eyes locked onto the gap in his guard, and with a surge of determination, she vaulted, cresting just over his weapon. Her body slipped through his, exiting coated in the blue and gold of his cloak. Rolling across the ground behind him, she stumbled.
The world around her felt warped and wrong. She straightened, blinking hard as her ears rang. Her surroundings were overwhelmingly silent. The chaotic echoes of his clash with Zeph seemed distant, muffled. Panic lanced through her chest as she slapped her hand against the side of her head. “What the hell!?” she muttered, the words loud in her own mind but disturbingly hollow in her ears.
Behind her, Zeph’s voice cut through the muted din, sharp and furious, but the warbling words held no meaning for Ablee. She turned, catching Zeph’s blood-streaked figure gesturing wildly, her mouth moving with what must be a reprimand—or a threat. Ablee squinted, trying to read her lips, but the effort was futile. She forced a lopsided grin and gave an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Thanks for the assist!” she shouted, though her voice felt distorted, warped by the quiet in her head.
Zeph’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth moved faster now, her gestures sharper. Whatever she was saying, it wasn't pleasant.
Ablee decided she didn't have time to linger. The outline of her father's hulking form stained her vision, growing smaller with every passing second. Clutching the box of bullets tightly to her chest, Ablee shot Zeph a cheeky wave and took off down the corridor, her bare feet slapping the stone.
Behind her, Zeph’s frustration crescendoed into what could only be a scream, but Ablee barely registered it.
She swerved sharply, passing through a section of wall into an adjoining passage. The maneuver jarred her senses further, and for a terrifying moment, her equilibrium tilted. She landed braced against the opposite wall, panting, her painted fingers scraping faint lines into the stone. “Damn it,” she growled, shaking her head, hoping the motion would clear the haze.
Somewhere ahead, Rhody’s muffled cries broke through the silence like faint ripples on a still pond. Ablee pushed off the wall and charged forward, deaf to the chaos she left in her wake.
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Ablee hurtled through the keep. Her wild, uncoordinated movements were punctuated by the thuds of her shoulders against wall after wall. The power of her Painter's Ambrosia flared instinctively as she took a hastily made shortcut. She misjudged her exit, stumbling out at a bizarre angle and landing with a muffled curse that felt distant in her head.
“Damn it!” she growled, scrambling to her feet. She squinted down the hall, trying to orient herself. The distorted echoes of her own voice bounced off the stone walls, making her flinch. “Where did you go?” she muttered, steadying herself with a palm against cold stone.
Behind her, Zeph wheeled around a corner, her golden hair trailing like a banner. She slowed just long enough to catch her breath. “You are the worst runaway I’ve ever chased!” she called, her tone exasperated. The words bounced uselessly off Ablee’s dulled senses.
Ablee turned, catching sight of Zeph’s sharp expression, and scowled. “You're not getting these bullets, not til I'm done!”
Zeph threw her hands up, baffled. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Ablee heard nothing, of course. She flipped Zeph an irritated wave and took off again, her form vanishing into the next wall. Zeph groaned, the sharp pain returned to her shoulder and she felt a wet warmth pooling down her chest. She forced a foot forward, then another, resuming the chase.
This is a disaster, Zeph thought, shaking her head. But a grin snuck its way onto her lips, Damn if it's not entertaining though.
Farther back, Rinval strutted through the halls. His composed movements relayed little concern. "Can't believe they slipped past me," he mused, “This brings back fond memories, corralling those kids through these halls.”
Ablee’s eye caught on a glimmering object lying ahead of her. Without slowing her sprint, she bent sideways and scooped it up. A midnight blue card dotted with golden stars. "That girl." She huffed and surged forward, keeping her eyes peeled for any more along her path.
Exiting another barrier of liquid stone, she found herself looking down an uneven stairwell. "Since when was this here!?" She shouted, tumbling down the steps and landing with a graceless thud. The bullet box flew from her grip, skidding ahead and hitting the base of the stairs with a resounding clatter.
She slammed her fists against the ground before picking herself up. Her ears rang faintly as she jogged down the hall to reclaim her bargaining chip.
Zeph eyed her from the top of the staircase, her boots skidding to a stop at their edge. “You drop those bullets one more time!” she warned, her voice livid, “I swear I'll—”
Ablee turned to glare at the intrusive, garbled sound. “What!?"
Zeph blinked at the girl. “You—wait, can you not—” she began, but Ablee turned and bolted again, clearly uninterested in whatever Zeph had to say.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Zeph hissed, her temper bubbling. She took off after Ablee once more, her hand brushing the revolver at her side. “This better end with bullets in my gun and Karich dead... Or I’m tossing her off the nearest parapet.”
Rinval strode after them into the stairwell, his polearm clanging against the banister as he gingerly descended it. “The dungeon, huh,” he muttered, "What have you got planned, Karich?"
Ahead, Ablee paused at a fork in the hallway, placing her hands on her knees. Her sense of direction was warped, and the muffled sounds around her seemed to bounce erratically. Bending down to pick up another card, she caught sight of Zeph upside down between her legs.
“Later, witch Lady!” Ablee shouted before passing through another wall.
“Stop doing that!” Zeph yelled, barreling down the hall after her.
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The chaotic trail of noise and destruction funneled them all toward Ablee’s cell, its smeared chalk murals glowing faintly in The Tower's light. Inside, Karich towered over Rhody, his massive stone heel planted firmly on her head, grinding it into the cold floor. Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her face pale with terror.
Pin-Beard eyed Karich from the wall, shouting, “Give it a rest, ya over-grown dogfish!” and punctuating his insult with a crude gesture.
Ablee stumbled into the room, her stone-coated footsteps clacking against its floor. Her hearing, dulled to a frustrating muffle, made the scene feel distant, almost dreamlike. Her eyes locked onto Karich's back. Something about him seemed off, but it was hard to tell what in her addled state. Trailing down the length of his fur-cape, her gaze landed on Rhody’s trembling frame.
Suddenly, her mind was yanked fifteen feet forward and three years back. She was lying in Rhody's position, Karich's boot digging into her temple.
Her eyes slammed shut as tight as they could, and the ringing in her ears grew to a cacophony.
"Stop...Stop!...STOP!" She fought her every inclination and forced her eyes back open, squinting tightly. She took in the scene, her eyelashes filtering its harshness, rendering it slightly more bearable by just the smallest amount.
Ablee stepped closer, her fists clenched. “Why are you doing this!?” she demanded, her voice raw with frustration. The sound rang strangely in her own head, amplified by the silence that surrounded her. “Why are you doing this, to HER!?”
Her shout felt swallowed by the space, leaving her words hollow and weightless. She saw some movement along her father's back, and could feel movement in the air, but her ears registered no sound.
A sudden, feral gust surged into the room, swirling about it with vengeance.
Cline's drawings, Pin-Beard, Talia, all of her friends, cried out. They shouted and screamed, as bit by bit, line by line, their forms were ripped from the walls. Ablee's eyes twitched from side to side, seeing, but unable to hear, their pleas.
The storm swirled as vibrant as a rainbow. In quickening circles, layer after layer was peeled away.
The wind dragged across her, particles of chalk pelting against her stony skin. “No! Stop!” she shouted, her ears drowned by the storm’s furious roar. The cyclone churned, its presence suffocating and undeniable.
As Ablee struggled to maintain her senses, Zeph crashed into her back like a battering ram, the force of the collision sending them both sprawling across the floor. The box of bullets clattered away, spinning into the vortex.
“What the hell?!” Ablee snarled. She struggled to push herself upright, but the wind pressed her down, its weight almost physical.
Zeph groaned, clutching her revolver as she rolled onto her knees. “What is—” her voice cut off as her gaze locked on Karich; his head had turned, and his glowing eyes were fixed on them with cold, unfeeling precision.
The storm intensified, a frenzy of chalky debris whipping through the air. Ablee’s heart pounded as she lifted her head, the wind clawing at her hair and clothes. “Zeph…” she began, her voice thin and strained, but her words were swallowed whole by the roaring tempest.
The wind surged around Karich, and the cell itself seemed to shrink under the weight of its presence.
Ablee and Zeph braced themselves as the storm howled louder.