- [Fi-Fi] -
A hum of anticipation vibrates through the air, almost tangible, as the grand hall pulses with restless energy. Under the vaulted ceilings of the ancient cathedral, now transformed into a makeshift music arena, shadows flicker and dance along the stone walls. The scent of aged incense mingles with the crispness of the night, creating an atmosphere both haunting and electric. Mist fills the air like fog from a machine, but it’s actually just vapors from a series of strategically placed cauldrons.
Undead laborers scurry about, their movements swift and purposeful. They guide bewildered adventurers — some shackled, others swaying from lingering enchantments — into clusters within the open spaces. The adventurers of more sound and stable mind exchange uneasy glances, armor clinking softly as they shift their weight. Nobody really knows why they’re here. Confusion etches their faces; the monsters’ usual hostility is absent tonight, replaced by an eerie hospitality from the creatures they normally battle.
Backstage, Fi-Fi takes a steadying breath — not that she needs to breathe anymore, but old habits die hard. Her heart, or where it used to be, feels like it's fluttering. Behind a thick velvet curtain, Fi-Fi stands in a small alcove bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. She peers down at the vial cradled in her bony hands, the liquid inside swirling with iridescent hues. Her eye sockets, empty yet somehow expressive, reflect the shimmering potion. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, her voice a soft whisper that barely rises above the distant murmurs.
Hwa-Young adjusts the brim of her witch's hat, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Absolutely,” she replies, her accent hinting at distant lands as she says a single word in the tongue of this language. She taps the side of the vial lightly, her translating skull taking over again as she speaks in her mother tongue. “It's a special concoction I whipped up just for you. It'll help with your stage fright, promise.”
Fi-Fi tilts her skull, skepticism evident in her posture. “But what if -”
"- Trust me," Hwa-Young interjects, her eyes sparkling. She leans in, the scent of wild herbs and night-blooming flowers enveloping Fi-Fi. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”
A moment of quiet passes between them. The muffled sounds of the audience gathering reach their ears — a cough here, a shuffled footstep there. Fi-Fi takes a nonexistent breath and nods. “Alright,” she concedes. Lifting the vial to where her lips would be, she tilts it back, the liquid vanishing as if absorbed directly into her bones.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then, a warmth blossoms within her, spreading outward like the first rays of dawn piercing through night. Fi-Fi's bones begin to glow softly, and before she can utter a word, layers of muscle weave themselves over her frame. Tendons and ligaments form, followed by the soft embrace of skin. Her maid’s dress strains against the sudden fullness, seams groaning in protest. Her hands — their transformation complete — fly to her face. She touches smooth cheeks and runs fingers through silken, black hair that cascades over her shoulders. Panic flashes in her eyes. “What is happening?!” Fi-Fi gasps, her voice now rich and resonant as it weaves its way through an actual, warm throat.
Hwa-Young claps her hands together, beaming. “Look at you! A picture of health!” She gestures proudly. “A healthy body weight does wonders for anxiety, don't you think?” explains the witch eagerly, nodding.
Fi-Fi's eyes widen, her cheeks flushing. “How is this supposed to help me feel less nervous?!” she asks, suddenly pulling on everything she’s wearing, given that it was outfitted for, well, a skeleton. “I can't go out like this!” She pulls at her too-tight sleeves, the fabric digging into her shoulders.
The witch chuckles, edging toward the exit. “You'll thank me later.” She winks. “Break a leg!”
Before Fi-Fi can respond, Hwa-Young leaps onto her broom, which materializes beneath her in a swirl of sparkle and smoke. “Come back here!” Fi-Fi shouts, reaching out after her in vexation. “I hate you!” she cries out, waving her arms in the air.
But it's too late.
The witch glides upward, weaving gracefully between the intricate archways of the cathedral's ceiling. Fi-Fi watches as she disappears into the shadows, the soft whoosh of the broom fading into silence. Only her cackle fills the air for a time longer, lingering like the smell of her soft, floral perfume and the oddest sensation that Fi-Fi now has.
Not only is she aware of having to breathe again, but worse, she can feel the position of her tongue in her mouth, and it feels odd.
Left alone, Fi-Fi looks down at herself, tugging futilely at the constricting dress. The once-comfortable garment now clings to her in all the wrong places. She sighs, a mix of exasperation and unease. “What am I going to do?”
Footsteps echo from behind the curtain. She turns just as the fabric is pushed aside. The Vampire Lord strides in, his presence commanding yet subtle. Draped in elegant attire that mirrors the night's depth, he exudes an aura of timelessness. Beside him floats Snatch, her ethereal form clinging to his arm.
The ghostly companion narrows her eyes upon seeing Fi-Fi.
An awkward silence settles.
Fi-Fi feels her face heat up under their gaze. She attempts a curtsy, nearly tripping. “Master,” she murmurs, avoiding direct eye contact.
The Vampire Lord raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across his features. “Fi-Fi?” he inquires, his voice smooth like velvet. “Is that you?” asks the man, recognizing her.
Snatch tightens her grip on his arm, her spectral eyes flashing with jealousy. “Master, we should be going,” she urges all of a sudden, pulling him slightly. “Right now. Really quickly. It’s dangerous for you to be this close to the adventurers outside,” she remarks, trying to pull him away.
“Don’t worry, Snatch,” says Inkume. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
Fi-Fi fidgets, her fingers nervously twisting the tight golden bracelet on her wrist. The metal bites into her skin, leaving faint marks. “Um, excuse me,” she begins softly. “Could you help me with this?” She lifts her arm, displaying the bracelet he once adjusted for her when they first met. "”It's become… a bit tight.”
He steps forward, gently taking her hand. His cool fingers brush against her warm skin, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. With a delicate touch, he loosens the bracelet, easing it over her hand. “There,” he says, his gaze meeting hers briefly.
Snatch floats in between them, her arms shoving them apart. “Master. This is a waste of time. I can sing for you instead,” she growls, her gravely, ten-packs-a-day words scratching into his ear like a ferret.
“I’d like that,” says Inkume, looking at the ghost. “Tonight, before bed?”
Snatch screams, covering her face again as her bluff is called.
“Thank you,” Fi-Fi whispers, pulling her hand back just in time before Snatch literally snaps her teeth at it.
Snatch hovers closer, positioning herself between them. “We really must prepare,” she insists, her tone sharp.
The Vampire Lord offers a small nod. “Indeed.” He glances back at Fi-Fi. “So tonight marks your return to the big stage. Quite the momentous occasion.” He points a hand to her. “As your manager, I’ll of course be expecting the lion’s share of the profits. But in return, I’ll… I don’t know; get you some posters made or something. You’ll obviously need to work fifteen-hour days and sell your soul,” he lists. “But on the plus side, you get to be famous for about three years before you’re deemed too old to be an idol anymore.” He points at her. “Then you can start a blog or something. Sell nostalgic CDs and dream about the good old days.”
Fi-Fi nods. “That sounds like a very healthy, fair, and sustainable system!” accepts the maid, going along with his joke. “Will I be allowed to have personal relationships, a personality, and feelings?”
He folds his hands together. “No,” replies the man dryly. “It will be bad for business if the customers see you having a boyfriend or doing anything except being literally perfect. You’ll destroy their hopeful fantasy, and they won’t buy any more merchandise. Are you in?”
“Hai!” says Fi-Fi, holding up a hand. He hits it, the two of them high-fiving.
“…I don’t know what’s happening,” mutters Snatch as the two of them laugh, which she clearly doesn’t like.
Fi-Fi offers a hesitant smile. “But yes, it's been… a while.” Her heart beats rapidly, each thump echoing in her ears. It’s so unusual to feel it again. “It feels like a thousand years or so, really,” she jokes.
He inclines his head. "I wish you the best of luck. I have no doubt you'll captivate everyone as you have me.”
Before she can respond, he turns and walks away, Snatch casting a final suspicious glare over her shoulder before trailing after him. Fi-Fi releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
She surveys the space around her. The backstage area is a flurry of activity — undead assistants adjusting props, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns casting intricate patterns on the floor. The distant hum of the assembled crowd filters through, a blend of muffled voices and restless movements.
Fi-Fi moves to a tall mirror propped against the wall. The reflection staring back at her is both familiar and foreign. She touches her cheek, noting the softness and the warmth. “This is… me,” she muses, pinching the fold of regrown skin on her face. “I think I gained some weight,” jokes Fi-Fi to herself, pressing a finger down over her cheekbone as she tries to calm herself down.
She’s so nervous.
The woman stares for a while. It’s odd having a body again.
An undead stagehand shuffles by, balancing a stack of sheet music. He pauses, giving her a curious look. “Need any help, miss?”
She starts slightly, not used to being addressed in this form.”Oh, no, I'm alright. Thank you.”
He nods slowly. “Alright then” As he moves away, she catches a glimpse of sympathy in his hollow eyes. “We’re live in ten, although I guess you already are now,” he mutters, shaking his head as he walks off.
Damn.
That was a better joke than hers.
The temperature drops subtly, a coolness seeping into the air. Fi-Fi wraps her arms around herself, the thin fabric of her outfit offering little protection. The scent of melting candle wax and aged parchment fills her senses, grounding her amidst the swirl of emotions.
She’s going to beat the daylights out of Hwa-Young when she catches her after this.
The witch probably won’t even remember why when it happens, so it will seem exceptionally cruel and out of the blue, perhaps. But that’s what it’ll have to be.
From the stage, a low chord resonates — a final sound check. The deep vibrations ripple through the floorboards, stirring a flutter of excitement and dread within her. She recalls countless performances from lifetimes ago, but this feels different. More real. More vulnerable. Back in that old life, this was just Tuesday. But it’s been so long, and so much has changed. Who knows if she even really still has ‘it’, whatever it was?
Adjusting the fit of her dress as best she can, Fi-Fi straightens her posture. “You can do this, Fi-Fi-chan,” she tells herself quietly. “Just like before.”
A face looks at her, staring from the other side of the mirror. The living doll, Schaufenster. “Who are you talking to?” asks the doll.
Fi-Fi stares at her, the two of them holding quiet eye contact, before she covers the mirror with a cloth.
A soft rustling catches her attention. Turning, she spots a small bat perched on a nearby rafter, its beady eyes observing her intently. It tilts its head, emitting a quiet squeak.
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- [The Cathedral] -
Back in the main hall, the atmosphere thickens with anticipation. The adventurers, still unsure of their purpose here, settle into makeshift seating. Whispers ripple through the crowd.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“What's going on?” one murmurs, loosening the straps on his gauntlets.
“Not sure,” another replies, rubbing a hand over his face. “But it's better than fighting off hordes of skeletons.”
A woman with a healing staff leans back, her eyes weary yet curious. “Maybe it's some kind of execution or something,” she mutters, looking toward the stage surrounded by undead.
Her companion shrugs. “At this point, I'm up for anything that doesn't involve dodging fireballs. Getting hung just means we’ll be back at the guild for a brew in an hour.”
High above, the cathedral's stained-glass windows catch the moonlight, casting fragmented hues across the audience. The interplay of colors paints the stone floor with patches of crimson, indigo, and emerald. A gentle breeze wafts through the open arches, carrying with it the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine from the distant gardens.
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- [Fi-Fi] -
Behind the curtain, Fi-Fi takes her position. The weight of the moment presses upon her, but amidst the nerves, a spark of excitement flickers to life. She glances upward, whispering a silent hope into the shadows. From the corner of her eye, she notices movement. One of the stagehands gives her a thumbs-up, his skeletal grin oddly reassuring. Not that skeletons can do anything other than grin, really. It makes them seem like a very friendly bunch. She nods in return, a genuine smile touching her lips.
The soft glow of footlights illuminates the edge of the curtain. The murmurs in the hall fade gradually, a hush settling as all eyes turn toward the stage. The air is charged, each passing second stretching. Fi-Fi closes her eyes briefly, centering herself. The melody of her first song dances at the edges of her memory. She opens her eyes, resolve settling in. Somewhere in the rafters, a distant flutter of wings echoes.
Clad in her maid's dress, now modified with appropriately edgy accessories, she adjusts the microphone in her hand. It’s a little unusual, being that it’s some kind of glass orb on top of a whirring metal rod. She has no idea how it works, but Hwa-Young said it does. “This is it,” she whispers to herself. “Time to shine.”
A hush settles over the cathedral, the kind of quiet that hangs heavy before a storm. The air cools as the last flickers of torchlight dim, plunging the vast hall into darkness. An electric anticipation ripples through the crowd, the living shifting nervously, their whispered conversations fading into silence. The undead, however, are quiet calm and serene as they rest in peace.
Skeleton mages stand at the ready, their bony fingers weaving intricate patterns. On cue, they unleash beams of magical light — crimson, violet, emerald — that pierce the darkness. The lights refract through suspended crystals, casting shimmering patterns across the ancient stone walls. Shadows dance and twist, creating a mesmerizing spectacle of color and form like a laser show.
Here we go.
With a burst of energy, Fi-Fi leaps onto the stage. The crowd erupts — some in cheers, others in startled gasps, others because their hands are bound with spider’s silk ropes and manipulated into moving — a captive audience.
Behind her, the band assembles. A banshee glides in from above, her ethereal form glowing faintly as she takes position as the backup singer. A long-haired skeleton saunters in, cradling an electric steamwork guitar that hisses and clicks with mechanical life. The six-armed naga coils around the drum set, each hand gripping a different percussion instrument fashioned from skulls and stretched leather.
Fi-Fi steps forward, her eyes scanning the sea of faces. Humans, elves, orcs, everyone — even a few goblins — stare back at her, their expressions ranging from curiosity to bewilderment. She raises the microphone. “Welcome, everyone!” her voice echoes, amplified by magic. “We’re the Cray-Cray-Anthonies, and we're here to rock-your-world!” she shouts, gesturing with a rock sign to the crowd with her free hand.
Lost, a few people exchange confused glances.
The naga counts off with a sharp tap of its tail, and the band launches into their first song. The music hits like a tidal wave — powerful, relentless, and utterly new to the ears of the deeply confused crowd of people who have never heard an instrument in their life that wasn’t held by someone in a feathered hat. Fi-Fi's voice cuts through the heavy riffs and pounding drums, soaring and wild. She's been waiting centuries for this moment.
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- [Vampire Lord Inkume] -
As the chaos unfolds, In the back rows, the Vampire Lord watches with a subtle smile playing on his lips. He leans against a pillar, arms crossed, his crimson eyes reflecting the pulsing lights of the stage as it explodes into anarchy. Lights, sounds, and a deep rumbling fill the air — overpowering everything else as the roar begins.
Snatch floats lower, her annoyance growing. She glances at the Vampire Lord, who is now tapping his finger against his arm in time with the music. “You're really enjoying this,” she says, a hint of accusation in her tone. Snatch hovers beside him, her ghostly form flickering. She covers her ears. “Master, how can you stand this racket?” she complains, grimacing as Fi-Fi starts singing.
Inkume glances at Snatch, amusement evident. “It's nostalgic,” he replies. “Reminds me of another time,” notes the Vampire Lord, watching the show unfold in the distance. Fi-Fi is really giving it her all.
Snatch shakes her head, wisps of her form dissipating before reassembling as she holds herself against him. “If you say so,” grumbles the ghost, his arm held over her shoulder.
The music swells, filling every corner of the cathedral. The temperature rises subtly, the heat of the magical lights mixing with the collective body warmth of the crowd. There's a metallic scent in the air — a mix of aged stone and the faint whiff of engine oil from the steamwork instruments. Some of the adventurers begin to move to the rhythm, tentative at first. A dwarf taps his foot, an elf sways gently, and soon enough, the entire audience is caught in the infectious energy. Cheers ring out as the band transitions into their next and then the song, each more electrifying than the last.
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- [Fi-Fi] -
Fi-Fi obviously loses herself in the performance. Her doubts fade with each note, replaced by pure exhilaration, and by the time they hit their fourth song, she’s a wild mess. She catches sight of Hwa-Young in the shadows, the witch giving her an encouraging nod before disappearing into the crowd.
Between songs, Fi-Fi takes a moment to introduce her bandmates. “On guitar, we've got Mr. Bones!” The skeleton guitarist strikes a dramatic chord, sparks flying from his instrument. “Our resident screamer, the one and only Wailena!” The banshee lets out a hauntingly beautiful note. One man bleeds from his ears. He is dragged away by security. “- And keeping the beat, all the way from the underworld, is our mysterious, serpentine beauty!” The naga gives a toothy grin, all six arms spinning in a blur over the drums. “Shoutout to the family here to see the show!” exclaims Fi-Fi, pointing to the side.
A nearby crowd of medusas cheers wildly.
The crowd roars in approval — several of them because of the knives held to their backs by the customer-experience-satisfaction employees assigned by the Vampire Lord in secret. But others because they are actually engaged.
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- [The Cathedral] -
Near the back, two adventurers exchange glances. One seasoned warrior with a scar across his cheek shakes his head in disbelief. “Never thought I'd see this,” he murmurs.
His companion, a young mage clutching a staff adorned with glowing runes, nods slowly. "It's unreal. But… kinda awesome?"
The warrior snorts. “Aye, that it is.”
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- [Fi-Fi] -
As the night progresses, the atmosphere shifts from initial hesitation to unbridled enthusiasm. Refreshment stalls appear along the sides of the cathedral — courtesy of enterprising ghouls and spirits — offering everything from spiced bloodwine to spectral candies that dissolve into pleasant chills upon consumption — containing no actual real blood, of course. It’s just themed that way, using the bloodflowers from the garden.
Slowly, as the show goes on, the mingling of the living and undead becomes more natural. A group of orcs clink glasses with a spectral knight, while a pair of humans engage in animated conversation with a trio of skeletons. Laughter and chatter mingle with the music, creating a unique harmony that defies the usual order of things.
Fi-Fi watches between songs, a swell of pride filling her.
Back on stage, the band launches into their final set. The energy peaks, the music reaching a frantic crescendo. Fi-Fi's voice rings out clear and powerful. The crowd responds in kind, voices joining in even though they've never heard the songs before.
Then, with a final, resounding chord, the performance concludes. The clocktower rings in the background. The cathedral erupts into thunderous applause, cheers echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Fi-Fi gazes out at the audience, a mix of relief and joy flooding her senses. She touches her heart, mouthing a quiet “Thank you.” Breathing heavily, Fi-Fi takes a bow. “Thank you all!” she exclaims. “You’ve been an incredible audience!”
As the crowd begins to disperse amongst themselves, excited conversations fill the air. Some adventurers and monsters alike linger, reluctant to let the night end. They are immediately shackled and escorted from the premises.
Fi-Fi steps off the stage, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to her. She makes her way through the crowd, accepting congratulations and exchanging smiles with a very confused Azalea and Cvet — the latter whose shirt she autographs to his confusion. Eventually, she spots the Vampire Lord standing near a shadowed, raised alcove where he was hidden from the crowd.
She approaches hesitantly. “Master,” Fi-Fi begins, her voice softer now.
He turns to her, a warm expression on his usually stoic face. "Fi-Fi. You were remarkable tonight. Looks like you still got it.”
“I still got it too, Master!” interjects Snatch, having no idea what they’re talking about.
“I know, Snatch,” replies Inkume, rubbing her head.
Fi-Fi blushes — an unusual sensation after so long without flesh. “Thank you. I couldn't have done it without everyone’s support.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I'm glad you went for it,” he says, looking around the cathedral he’s spent weeks having restored. It seems as good a purpose as any, although Azalea and Agnis were certainly somewhat lost regarding the concept. But he managed to bargain with the two of them that he’d attend one of their sermons if they don’t call Fi-Fi a heretic and go on a rampage.
Small sacrifices.
Fi-Fi bites her lip, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Actually, I've been thinking. It was fun. But I'm not sure if staying like this is right for me.” She gestures to her human form. “Being a skeleton felt more… authentic.” She makes a peace sign over her eyes. “You know, for my brand image.”
He considers Fi-Fi’s words in the context of her original explanation of her state from back when the two of them spoke of Enfangled for the first time. He then places a reassuring hand on Fi-Fi’s shoulder. Snatch bites his forearm. “Give it some time. Sometimes, a second chance also needs a second try,” explains Inkume. “Besides, you can always be a skeleton later.”
She smiles gently. “Huuh~?” Fi-Fi leans in toward him, a strand of razor-cut black hair dangling past her eyes. “Why is the Master always so encouraging and wise?”
He shrugs, as if it were obvious. “That’s because I’m much cooler than you,” replies the Vampire Lord, his hand running through his perfectly glistening hair. “Also, I read a lot.”
Before she can respond, Snatch appears beside him, her arms crossed. “Are you done monopolizing the Master?” asks the ghost, glaring. “We have very important castle work to do now. In the castle. Somewhere else,” says the ghost, trying to pull him away.
Fi-Fi grins. “Just about.” She steps forward and places a light kiss on the Vampire Lord's cheek. “Thank you again. I guess I’ll stay like this for a little while, at least.”
Snatch's eyes widen, and she lunges at Fi-Fi, Inkume holding her back with one hand. Fi-Fi turns toward the spirit’s frothing expression, still smiling. “Don't feel left out, Snatch-chan.” Fi-Fi leans in and kisses Snatch as well, more directly, grabbing the sides of her face and staying there for a while. The ghost's form flickers, a blush somehow evident despite her ethereal nature. Her arms flail around at her sides.
“I… You….” Snatch stammers, confusion replacing her annoyance. “- WAGH!” yells the spirit incoherently, flailing her arms around randomly as she seemingly tries to grab a million different things — all of them non-existent.
Fi-Fi winks. “Goodnight!” She turns and melts back into the crowd, waving a hand over her shoulder. “I’ve got a witch to hunt,” she says, spinning with a quick salute. Inkume waves her off with a slight salute back.
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- [Vampire Lord Inkume] -
The Vampire Lord watches her go, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Master!” yells the ghost, grabbing him, a desperate look on her face. “I’m feeling things, and I don’t know what they are!” Snatch shouts abruptly in a loud tone, her other hand frantically pulling on her goopy hair.
He looks down at her wide eyes. “That’s the mark of a good party,” notes Inkume in resigned solace, grabbing the spirit. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he offers, taking her with him. “I think there’s some castle work to do, somewhere in the castle.”
Snatch sheepishly avoids his gaze, mumbling something unintelligible, wheezing to herself as he takes her hand and the rest of her back with him. “Maybe down at the crypt?” she suggests, wheezing.
“Ah, so you’re going to sing for me after all?” asks Inkume, raising an eyebrow.
He doesn’t get a clear answer, as Snatch is too busy squashing her own face, too overstimulated with her thoughts.
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- [The Castle Grounds] -
Outside, the adventurers gather in small groups, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside. Stars glitter above, the moon casting a silvery glow over the castle grounds.
A young thief adjusts his cloak, shaking his head in disbelief. “No one's gonna believe this back at the guild.”
His companion, a cleric with a skeptical expression, laughs. “I barely believe it myself. What was that?”
Nearby, an orc pats a skeleton on the back. “Same time next week?”
The skeleton's jaw clacks. It then makes a motion with an empty hand, pretending to stab him.
As the last of the guests filter out, the cathedral settles into a peaceful quiet. The remnants of the night's festivities linger — a forgotten cup here, a stray note of music echoing faintly. A legion of rats swarms through the area, devouring every last dropped crumb and sipping up every drop of spilled liquor.
Outside, Bark lays her head down, happy that it’s finally quiet again.
The night deepens, a gentle breeze stirring the banners that hang from the cathedral walls. The scent of lingering magic and distant rain mingles in the air.
And the castle closes for the night. One party is enough.