Theora activated the Skill a few dozens of times within a fraction of a moment. She kept her surroundings in her gaze, but as of yet, she could not ascertain any differences.
[im//possibility]. [im//possibility]. [im//possibility].
Theora blinked as her eyes got a bit weary. She knew it was working; with every activation, she could feel reality change ever so slightly, if only as a vague feedback of using the Skill. It just wasn’t immediately obvious what those changes in the fabric of reality might be.
However, as she got into the hundreds, and then finally thousands, things got a little weird.
For one, Theora really wanted to sneeze, but couldn’t. Her nose kept tingling, but wouldn’t grant her release.
At the same time, reality began to crumble around her. The forest fell apart. One tree after the other broke off from the clearance, and drifted into darkness, like parts of an island in the clouds losing their grip in the sky.
Space bent and warped.
Theora could look around corners now; see what was behind bushes and trees that should be blocking her line of vision. There were three of that same bear-sized boulder now, copied to different locations, although one of them had diagonally split through itself, with the sides being reflections of each other.
These effects could be resulting from [im//possibility], but Theora wasn’t sure. The Shade could also be having trouble maintaining its own integrity under the mounting pressures of subtle changes.
Some things were definitely the Skill, though. There was a flower petal carried by the wind around Theora, and for the life of her, she couldn’t look at it directly. Whenever she tried, it would dodge her gaze, or reality would twist. She kept trying to no avail; it was almost impossible to clearly see it.
In other words, things were going well, so she increased the activation rate.
A moment later, they were cast into new surroundings. An endless space, colourless, neither dark nor bright, but many red pillars all around — or, at second glance, thick red bamboo branches, reaching up into nothingness. A fog billowed between them. Theora made a step forward, but didn’t change location. She tried again and again, but it was almost impossible to get closer to any of the branches. Most steps took her further away.
She lost balance, and almost tripped, couldn’t figure out how to fall, then tore the sleeve of her dress while dodging a red bamboo stalk that had suddenly started falling.
She looked back at Harrik, who was running, almost getting hit as well but paying no mind, as he was focused on trying to reach the hand of a small girl next to him. A little girl, too vague in shape for Theora to recognise clearly.
But no matter how hard he tried, his fingers couldn’t touch hers. She tried to reach him too, but every time she made a step forward, the ground between them would increase.
“No,” he whimpered, and grimaced in despair. And then, as she faded away, in fear.
He screamed.
Theora wanted to approach him, but staggered.
Ah. Was that a voice, behind her?
When she turned, there stood Dema.
Why hello there, little rabbit, she imagined her say, but there was no sound — as if it could almost, but not quite, reach her ears.
“I missed you so bad,” Theora murmured at the mirage, and then remembered this was not really Dema.
It was a version of Dema, almost able to exist here, but not really.
And so, Theora activated the Skill another few thousands of times. She wanted to hug her so bad. Stretched out her arms to wrap them around the scrawny little figure, and although she could almost reach her, it wasn’t enough.
Then, Dema disappeared. Instead, broken pieces of rock scattered onto the ground, hundreds of them in different sizes, and Theora frantically knelt down, to put them back together. Put back together the pieces. They needed to be back in one.
It couldn’t stay like this. She found a little rock leg. Half a face, with Isobel’s eyes and moss patches and—
Theora couldn’t put her back together. It was as if there was always one part missing, always one part she desperately needed to find next, but to no avail. With each attempt, the pieces got smaller.
“This is goddamn vexing,” she heard Harrik shout from behind. “I hate this!”
“You and me both,” Theora murmured, wiping a tear out of her face. She reached for another fragment of Isobel, and it just broke in two upon being touched. Every piece, whenever Theora reached out, would fall apart. Again, and again, and again. Soon, Isobel would be powdered into the finest dust.
Reality collapsed once more.
A storm. Lightning, rain. Bell’s tendrils shook wildly in the air and she almost, but not quite, managed to kill Dema, and was [Obliterated] in return. What used to be Bell was now a puddle of jellyfish goop on the ground.
Theora closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see these things.
However, closing her eyes made no difference. With a knot in her stomach, she activated another batch, and realised her Skill had reached its unlock.
[im//possibility], Level 153.
A random event is chosen. Play it out in front of your mind’s eye.
If it is possible, it becomes almost impossible.
If it is impossible, it becomes almost possible.
Level 13 Unlock: Skill effect changed.
[Additional effect unlocked at Level -4]
Theora blinked. The second sentence in the effect was new. It completely altered how the Skill worked. Still, it was too late to turn back. This was their only hope. She was starting to get tired too. There was not much time left.
She kept seeing more visions — more events. Not all of them were bad; but many were total bogus. An especially unlikely one was a scene of herself sitting in the grass, laughing out loud in joy.
What an idea. Was that an impossible event that had now become almost possible? Or had it only been possible until now?
The Skill scared Theora just a bit. Would these visions expire, or were they set forever? Did they only affect the here and now, or could they influence events in distant futures?
It was gut-wrenching, and exhausting. But… At some point, surely, an event would occur that influenced Harrik’s magic item. She just needed to force herself to stay clear until then.
The events were now mere flashes, passing by her mind’s eye, and she paid them no attention past determining whether it was what they were fishing for. She was seeping through an endless archive of the possible and impossible, in order to find the one event that would lead them out.
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 205.
Still not.
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 267.
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 302.
None of these matched.
…
…
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 879.
And there, after what felt like an eternity, it was. She blinked a slow blink.
Theora saw a magic locket unravel from the densest fabric. It was a minor event, an afterthought of sorts, just a small hint of its existence. She saw it slip through a crack inside the vast and complex body of the Shade, felt herself reach out and take it — in an event before her eyes.
That wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t let the chance slip. She didn’t care if the event was possible or not, if it was reality or vision. She stretched out her heavy hand, almost grasping the locket, her fingers arched towards it — but fell just a tad short.
Almost.
Almost but not quite. It was just out of reach.
This was unacceptable.
Theora lurched.
With a violent crack, reality thundered. Black and red lightning flashed as her hand reached what it was not supposed to reach, enclosed what was not supposed to be there. Her fingers wrapped tight around the cold trinket, and she would not let go.
Theora turned around to Harrik — not by moving her body, but by bending reality to her will, like dragging perspective around. He was struggling to wriggle out of azure bedsheets trying to devour him, almost but not quite able to free his arms.
She showed him the item, hand shaking softly.
“Is that it?”
His eyes turned wide. He nodded, and tried to shout something, but then a bunch of fabric wrapped around his head and turned him silent.
At the exact moment of confirmation, the Shade ejected Theora. Threw her out with a lot more strength than she had thought the little thing capable of. She was fired out like a cannonball.
First, Theora broke through a wooden floor. Then, another. Then, three more.
And with a big splash, she landed in hot water.
Oh, so very hot.
Bubbles she’d taken with her came loose from her body, her hair strung along the liquid as she hit against the ground underwater with a little crack. She held onto the locket, and when the force of the ejection wore off, she pushed herself back up, realising the water was actually quite shallow.
Her head pierced the surface, the night breeze setting to dry and cool her off. Dema stood at the other end, head and shoulders peeking out of the bath.
Dema was such a comfortable sight. Theora immediately felt at home. Had the Shade thrown her here on purpose?
Dema, however, raised an accusatory finger.
“Little rabbit, the rules! We’re gonna be kicked out! You gotta wash off first before entering the bath.” Her stretched-out arm swung over to point at the door. “In the antechamber. Also, undress! No going in with clothes.”
Theora blushed furiously. “I’m sorry.”
The very next moment, a head emerged in the vaguely Theora-shaped hole left by the destruction of her entrance in the ceiling. Isobel stared down with a curious expression.
A moment later, that same expression turned into a serious frown.
“Bad!” she yelped, let herself fall, and splashed into the bath.
The moment she reappeared, she fetched Theora’s hand and mangled the locket out of it. With a gentle click, she turned a latch on its side, and a soft, all-encompassing shockwave emanated from the item with a whomp. Then, Iso swam through the water at ridiculous giant isopod speed, her body waving up and down through it.
She soared out, and left through the door.
Dema stared after her.
“Damn, starting to feel like I’m out of the loop. What was that thing she took? Why’d she take it?”
“No idea,” Theora mumbled.
“Anyway. Go undress!”
Theora nodded viciously and made her way out of the hot bath, slowly losing grip on what was even going on. She dripped water all over the stone slab floor, entered the antechamber containing little shelves for clothes, baskets with towels, as well as buckets to clean oneself at the basin perched against one of the walls.
As if on autopilot, she actually went to one of the shelves and took a basket, took a towel to wrap it around her wet hair, reached down to the hemline of her dress to take it off, and only then broke out of her trance as she heard a happy scream issue from outside.
She hurried into the corridor, and was greeted by the sight of a kneeling Harrik, all back in reality too, probably having been puked out at the same time as her. A moment later, a little girl appeared out of nowhere mid-jump, removing her invisibility. She fell into his arms, and judging by the way he was immediately ready to catch and hug her, it almost seemed like he’d expected it.
“You’re back!” Kara cheered, snuggling into him, and he started crying.
“I am. I’m so sorry. I was gone for so long.”
“You look so old! You have a beard now!”
He chuckled between sobs. “Got trapped in a dilation,” he said. “But I’m all back now. So sorry.”
Theora blinked. Dilation?
A few seconds later, Isobel jumped down the stairs to Theora’s left. “Don’t worry!” she cheered. “I isolated it inside your coat. Nothing bad’s gonna happen!”
Theora stared. “Isolated it?”
“Yea! Like, the time warper you brought with you? When I identified it, I was like, damn! That’s bad news if we keep it lying around! So I thought I’d just contain it.”
“Why would it be bad news?”
Isobel scrunched up her face. “Wait, you didn’t know? It’s a thing that makes time around it go quicker. In a certain radius. Or slower, when you turn the latch. No way to shut it off though… So if we have it lying around, all your friends in Hallmark would grow old! You wouldn’t want that, right? But I was fast, so we probably only lost a few days.”
The artefact Harrik had carried around was a time dilation device? And the Shade had swallowed it? So… that meant… Within the Shade, time had gone by quicker?
“What day is it?” Theora asked. “When did we arrive at this bath house?”
“Just today!” Isobel said. “I thought you were asleep.” The next moment, her eyes widened, and then, after darting over to Harrik for a second, her face changed to an accusatory look. For a moment, she seemed to look at a System prompt. “Wait a second! Mom! You stole my quest!?”
“I’m so sorry,” Theora said. She quickly bowed in apology. “It was an accident.”
Isobel looked so betrayed. “Accident! Even though I told you not to worry about it! Even though you were supposed to rest!”
“I—I did rest,” Theora murmured ruefully. “I did sleep for about a month. Maybe even more.”
“Then why do you look so tired!”
Theora couldn’t deny it. Using [im//possibility] so much had messed her up badly. She was close to losing consciousness, but holding on by power of will, at least until she was sure everything was alright.
“I will rest,” Theora promised. “I will… right now…” She staggered a little. “Aw, oh no. My nightgown is wet now, and torn-up.”
“Gotta sleep naked, then. No choice,” Dema whispered from behind Theora, and gave her a soft start.
Meanwhile, Harrik had finished greeting Kara, and, carrying her on his shoulder, approached the three, smiling, but weary. The activations of [im//possibility] had left their mark on him as well, his face tinted blue.
“I— Thank you so much.” He gasped for air for a moment, then looked at Isobel. “Contained. You said you have it contained?”
Isobel clacked a nod. “Yep! All good!”
He issued a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I’d get rid of it— Is it… sealed off for good?”
“For good!” she answered. “As long as we keep it inside her coat!”
His eyes wandered to Theora. “Can you… keep it for me, then?”
Theora got a little dizzy, but felt Dema’s touch steady her at her waist. She blinked. “I can keep it?” she asked, very quietly.
“If it doesn’t burden you too much…”
“Burden,” Theora echoed, a little confused.
How could it be a burden? A time dilation device in her travelling coat? She couldn’t have invented a more amazing item if she tried. And Isobel had already flipped the switch. Now, Theora’s precious baking ingredients would stay fresh so much longer. She might even be able to fetch lava without it cooling off.
“I shall carry the burden,” she said solemnly, and nodded, and almost lost balance.
“Alright li’l rabbit, let’s get you to bed,” Dema said, and interlocked her arm with Theora’s to stabilise her.
Dema wasn’t naked. Dema had thrown her tattered robe back on after leaving the bath. This was a relief.
So, Theora proceeded to let herself be guided up the stairs and through the corridors; notably, Dema stopped at each hole Theora’s ejection had left within the bathhouse to patch up with… dried and condensed slabs of her own blood that she conjured from under her fingernails.
“Shouldn’t you,” Theora murmured, “Shouldn’t… better… use rock?”
“Don’t have any rock here!” Dema chirped. “Blood’s more convenient to supplement wood, easier to seep into the fibres to form connections! Plus, rock’s too heavy for a stone house.”
“I see,” Theora hummed. “Blood it is.”
“Blood it is. Gonna help them fix it up properly later if they don’t want my bloodstone all over the place.”
“You are precious,” Theora murmured, sleep-drunk.
“Why, thank you. Also, what happened?”
“Shade,” Theora said. “Shade swallowed me up. After you were gone.” She threw a short accusatory glance at Dema. “After you left me behind, all alone, in bed. Shade also swallowed up the missing person a while ago. Tossed me back out when I fixed the belly-ache.”
“I see!” Dema said as if this all made total sense.
A while and three blood-clotted holes in the ground later, they arrived back at their room.
Dema positioned Theora in the middle, saying, “I’m gonna fetch something for you to wear.”
The Shade was not here anymore. It didn’t sit on the bed. Theora waddled towards the window, placed her hands on the sill, and looked outside. She couldn’t see the Shade, but it was dark, so she couldn’t be sure. A few more slow steps brought her to the bed, and she knelt down to look underneath it.
Only darkness.
Theora was a bit too tired to get up again, so she crawled away to look underneath the other bed too.
“Whatcha doing?” Dema went, having fetched an oversized shirt.
Hm. Perhaps the Shade ran away because of all the bad things that happened. But Theora would have liked to say goodbye. But she could understand why the Shade might not want to, after having been put through such an ordeal. So, perhaps the Shade had gone back home?
Theora frowned at that thought. Where would that home be, Theora? she scolded herself. Her thoughts were not making much sense, were they? She could feel the segments of her brain shutting off one by one. They were retiring for the day, leaving her to fend all on her own, completely without a brain.
First Dema, then the Shade, and now her head. Everyone was leaving Theora behind.
There had been those terrible visions of Bell and Iso, too.
Before Theora could realise, Dema had already pulled her back into a sitting position, and was helping her change into the shirt. Then, Dema picked her up into a princess carry, and threw her into bed.
Literally threw her. Theora found herself flying through the air for a second, curdled up into a ball, and then plummeted onto the mattress in a soft thump. Perfect, soft, velvety sheets.
Theora stared at the demon.
“I loved that,” she said. “I love being thrown.”
Dema giggled. “Figured you might!” Then, she picked up a half-torn piece hanging down her cloak and used it to dry off her own hair. When she was done, she turned to the door and waved. “There we go. Now, sleep! See you!”
“Wait,” Theora mumbled. “What do you think you are doing?”
Dema halted at that sudden strict tone. “Why, I was gonna go and help out with the repairs?”
“Please don’t leave me again.”
Dema slowly made a few steps back into the room. “I can’t leave?”
“Ever,” Theora said, holding out her hand in an offer to be fetched. “You left, and then I got swallowed by a Shade.”
“Why, almost sounds like you’re blaming me.” Dema closed in and grasped Theora’s fingers, then sat down on the bed beside her. “The Shade would’ve been here either way!”
“We could have been swallowed together.”
“You would have preferred that?”
“Yes.”
Theora didn’t quite understand why she was saying these things, because her critical thinking was already asleep. It was also very dark, and her vision a bit blurred with exhaustion. All she could do was look at a little lint on Dema’s cloak. A tiny fluff of fabric, condensed, hanging on. How was it so pretty?
Ah, no, it wasn’t the lint itself; it was the fact that it was resting on Dema. That made it very cool.
She blinked, and at that, Dema noticed Theora’s gaze, followed it, found the lint with an “Ah!”, and flung it to the floor.
What a sad day for this lint.
“You won’t toss me off like this one, right?”
Dema gave a laugh. “Why, you feel bad for it? Sorry!” She bowed down, picked the lint back up, and placed it on her cloak. “There! Better?”
Theora nodded.
“Alright,” Dema said, humming. “Fine, I won’t leave you. But… you’re gonna sleep for weeks, right? When will I be able to help the others!”
Theora pouted. “Don’t you like scheming? Figure something out. Use that pretty head of yours.”
Dema let out a surprised “Wha!” and stared down. “Figure something out? How! Not possible to help them if I’m stuck here!”
“Find a way,” Theora said, and harrumphed. “Be creative.” After all, she’d needed to be creative too.
Dema interlocked her fingers with Theora’s, and they were so soft and warm. “Why, little rascal. So assertive today! So confident.”
“That must be why you lo—”
Theora swallowed, clenching Dema’s soft hand. “… Like me.”
“Dang, careful there. You’re so tired, you’re gonna say some dangerous things.” She raised an eyebrow. “Actually, maybe I should keep you awake a little longer. Just to… hear you out!”
“I’m very tired,” Theora hummed back. “It would be quite cruel to keep me awake on purpose, for your own amusement.”
“Yes,” Dema agreed. “Cruel’s good. Am the Ancient Evil, after all. Gotta protect my image.”
“Protect your image by keeping me awake.”
“Yeah.”
Theora pulled Dema’s hand closer, and wrapped her other one around it too. She closed her eyes. “I see. Keeping me company when I’m exhausted. Waiting for your chance to help out the others. Very evil. Diabolical. Can’t believe that I lo— … That I like someone like you.”
“Yeah,” Dema rasped, graciously forgoing to comment on Theora’s complete lack of a filter like the saint that she was. “And I got a lot of other schemes going, too. Oh, speaking of, you won’t believe the evil plan I have for our date. Been working on it for a while. Started in Hallmark, actually. It’s gonna blow you away!”
“Mhm,” Theora hummed, almost asleep. “Can’t wait. Blow me away.”
Then, she dozed off.
Theora activated the Skill a few dozens of times within a fraction of a moment. She kept her surroundings in her gaze, but as of yet, she could not ascertain any differences.
[im//possibility]. [im//possibility]. [im//possibility].
Theora blinked as her eyes got a bit weary. She knew it was working; with every activation, she could feel reality change ever so slightly, if only as a vague feedback of using the Skill. It just wasn’t immediately obvious what those changes in the fabric of reality might be.
However, as she got into the hundreds, and then finally thousands, things got a little weird.
For one, Theora really wanted to sneeze, but couldn’t. Her nose kept tingling, but wouldn’t grant her release.
At the same time, reality began to crumble around her. The forest fell apart. One tree after the other broke off from the clearance, and drifted into darkness, like parts of an island in the clouds losing their grip in the sky.
Space bent and warped.
Theora could look around corners now; see what was behind bushes and trees that should be blocking her line of vision. There were three of that same bear-sized boulder now, copied to different locations, although one of them had diagonally split through itself, with the sides being reflections of each other.
These effects could be resulting from [im//possibility], but Theora wasn’t sure. The Shade could also be having trouble maintaining its own integrity under the mounting pressures of subtle changes.
Some things were definitely the Skill, though. There was a flower petal carried by the wind around Theora, and for the life of her, she couldn’t look at it directly. Whenever she tried, it would dodge her gaze, or reality would twist. She kept trying to no avail; it was almost impossible to clearly see it.
In other words, things were going well, so she increased the activation rate.
A moment later, they were cast into new surroundings. An endless space, colourless, neither dark nor bright, but many red pillars all around — or, at second glance, thick red bamboo branches, reaching up into nothingness. A fog billowed between them. Theora made a step forward, but didn’t change location. She tried again and again, but it was almost impossible to get closer to any of the branches. Most steps took her further away.
She lost balance, and almost tripped, couldn’t figure out how to fall, then tore the sleeve of her dress while dodging a red bamboo stalk that had suddenly started falling.
She looked back at Harrik, who was running, almost getting hit as well but paying no mind, as he was focused on trying to reach the hand of a small girl next to him. A little girl, too vague in shape for Theora to recognise clearly.
But no matter how hard he tried, his fingers couldn’t touch hers. She tried to reach him too, but every time she made a step forward, the ground between them would increase.
“No,” he whimpered, and grimaced in despair. And then, as she faded away, in fear.
He screamed.
Theora wanted to approach him, but staggered.
Ah. Was that a voice, behind her?
When she turned, there stood Dema.
Why hello there, little rabbit, she imagined her say, but there was no sound — as if it could almost, but not quite, reach her ears.
“I missed you so bad,” Theora murmured at the mirage, and then remembered this was not really Dema.
It was a version of Dema, almost able to exist here, but not really.
And so, Theora activated the Skill another few thousands of times. She wanted to hug her so bad. Stretched out her arms to wrap them around the scrawny little figure, and although she could almost reach her, it wasn’t enough.
Then, Dema disappeared. Instead, broken pieces of rock scattered onto the ground, hundreds of them in different sizes, and Theora frantically knelt down, to put them back together. Put back together the pieces. They needed to be back in one.
It couldn’t stay like this. She found a little rock leg. Half a face, with Isobel’s eyes and moss patches and—
Theora couldn’t put her back together. It was as if there was always one part missing, always one part she desperately needed to find next, but to no avail. With each attempt, the pieces got smaller.
“This is goddamn vexing,” she heard Harrik shout from behind. “I hate this!”
“You and me both,” Theora murmured, wiping a tear out of her face. She reached for another fragment of Isobel, and it just broke in two upon being touched. Every piece, whenever Theora reached out, would fall apart. Again, and again, and again. Soon, Isobel would be powdered into the finest dust.
Reality collapsed once more.
A storm. Lightning, rain. Bell’s tendrils shook wildly in the air and she almost, but not quite, managed to kill Dema, and was [Obliterated] in return. What used to be Bell was now a puddle of jellyfish goop on the ground.
Theora closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see these things.
However, closing her eyes made no difference. With a knot in her stomach, she activated another batch, and realised her Skill had reached its unlock.
[im//possibility], Level 153.
A random event is chosen. Play it out in front of your mind’s eye.
If it is possible, it becomes almost impossible.
If it is impossible, it becomes almost possible.
Level 13 Unlock: Skill effect changed.
[Additional effect unlocked at Level -4]
Theora blinked. The second sentence in the effect was new. It completely altered how the Skill worked. Still, it was too late to turn back. This was their only hope. She was starting to get tired too. There was not much time left.
She kept seeing more visions — more events. Not all of them were bad; but many were total bogus. An especially unlikely one was a scene of herself sitting in the grass, laughing out loud in joy.
What an idea. Was that an impossible event that had now become almost possible? Or had it only been possible until now?
The Skill scared Theora just a bit. Would these visions expire, or were they set forever? Did they only affect the here and now, or could they influence events in distant futures?
It was gut-wrenching, and exhausting. But… At some point, surely, an event would occur that influenced Harrik’s magic item. She just needed to force herself to stay clear until then.
The events were now mere flashes, passing by her mind’s eye, and she paid them no attention past determining whether it was what they were fishing for. She was seeping through an endless archive of the possible and impossible, in order to find the one event that would lead them out.
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 205.
Still not.
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 267.
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 302.
None of these matched.
…
…
[im//possibility] advanced to Level 879.
And there, after what felt like an eternity, it was. She blinked a slow blink.
Theora saw a magic locket unravel from the densest fabric. It was a minor event, an afterthought of sorts, just a small hint of its existence. She saw it slip through a crack inside the vast and complex body of the Shade, felt herself reach out and take it — in an event before her eyes.
That wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t let the chance slip. She didn’t care if the event was possible or not, if it was reality or vision. She stretched out her heavy hand, almost grasping the locket, her fingers arched towards it — but fell just a tad short.
Almost.
Almost but not quite. It was just out of reach.
This was unacceptable.
Theora lurched.
With a violent crack, reality thundered. Black and red lightning flashed as her hand reached what it was not supposed to reach, enclosed what was not supposed to be there. Her fingers wrapped tight around the cold trinket, and she would not let go.
Theora turned around to Harrik — not by moving her body, but by bending reality to her will, like dragging perspective around. He was struggling to wriggle out of azure bedsheets trying to devour him, almost but not quite able to free his arms.
She showed him the item, hand shaking softly.
“Is that it?”
His eyes turned wide. He nodded, and tried to shout something, but then a bunch of fabric wrapped around his head and turned him silent.
At the exact moment of confirmation, the Shade ejected Theora. Threw her out with a lot more strength than she had thought the little thing capable of. She was fired out like a cannonball.
First, Theora broke through a wooden floor. Then, another. Then, three more.
And with a big splash, she landed in hot water.
Oh, so very hot.
Bubbles she’d taken with her came loose from her body, her hair strung along the liquid as she hit against the ground underwater with a little crack. She held onto the locket, and when the force of the ejection wore off, she pushed herself back up, realising the water was actually quite shallow.
Her head pierced the surface, the night breeze setting to dry and cool her off. Dema stood at the other end, head and shoulders peeking out of the bath.
Dema was such a comfortable sight. Theora immediately felt at home. Had the Shade thrown her here on purpose?
Dema, however, raised an accusatory finger.
“Little rabbit, the rules! We’re gonna be kicked out! You gotta wash off first before entering the bath.” Her stretched-out arm swung over to point at the door. “In the antechamber. Also, undress! No going in with clothes.”
Theora blushed furiously. “I’m sorry.”
The very next moment, a head emerged in the vaguely Theora-shaped hole left by the destruction of her entrance in the ceiling. Isobel stared down with a curious expression.
A moment later, that same expression turned into a serious frown.
“Bad!” she yelped, let herself fall, and splashed into the bath.
The moment she reappeared, she fetched Theora’s hand and mangled the locket out of it. With a gentle click, she turned a latch on its side, and a soft, all-encompassing shockwave emanated from the item with a whomp. Then, Iso swam through the water at ridiculous giant isopod speed, her body waving up and down through it.
She soared out, and left through the door.
Dema stared after her.
“Damn, starting to feel like I’m out of the loop. What was that thing she took? Why’d she take it?”
“No idea,” Theora mumbled.
“Anyway. Go undress!”
Theora nodded viciously and made her way out of the hot bath, slowly losing grip on what was even going on. She dripped water all over the stone slab floor, entered the antechamber containing little shelves for clothes, baskets with towels, as well as buckets to clean oneself at the basin perched against one of the walls.
As if on autopilot, she actually went to one of the shelves and took a basket, took a towel to wrap it around her wet hair, reached down to the hemline of her dress to take it off, and only then broke out of her trance as she heard a happy scream issue from outside.
She hurried into the corridor, and was greeted by the sight of a kneeling Harrik, all back in reality too, probably having been puked out at the same time as her. A moment later, a little girl appeared out of nowhere mid-jump, removing her invisibility. She fell into his arms, and judging by the way he was immediately ready to catch and hug her, it almost seemed like he’d expected it.
“You’re back!” Kara cheered, snuggling into him, and he started crying.
“I am. I’m so sorry. I was gone for so long.”
“You look so old! You have a beard now!”
He chuckled between sobs. “Got trapped in a dilation,” he said. “But I’m all back now. So sorry.”
Theora blinked. Dilation?
A few seconds later, Isobel jumped down the stairs to Theora’s left. “Don’t worry!” she cheered. “I isolated it inside your coat. Nothing bad’s gonna happen!”
Theora stared. “Isolated it?”
“Yea! Like, the time warper you brought with you? When I identified it, I was like, damn! That’s bad news if we keep it lying around! So I thought I’d just contain it.”
“Why would it be bad news?”
Isobel scrunched up her face. “Wait, you didn’t know? It’s a thing that makes time around it go quicker. In a certain radius. Or slower, when you turn the latch. No way to shut it off though… So if we have it lying around, all your friends in Hallmark would grow old! You wouldn’t want that, right? But I was fast, so we probably only lost a few days.”
The artefact Harrik had carried around was a time dilation device? And the Shade had swallowed it? So… that meant… Within the Shade, time had gone by quicker?
“What day is it?” Theora asked. “When did we arrive at this bath house?”
“Just today!” Isobel said. “I thought you were asleep.” The next moment, her eyes widened, and then, after darting over to Harrik for a second, her face changed to an accusatory look. For a moment, she seemed to look at a System prompt. “Wait a second! Mom! You stole my quest!?”
“I’m so sorry,” Theora said. She quickly bowed in apology. “It was an accident.”
Isobel looked so betrayed. “Accident! Even though I told you not to worry about it! Even though you were supposed to rest!”
“I—I did rest,” Theora murmured ruefully. “I did sleep for about a month. Maybe even more.”
“Then why do you look so tired!”
Theora couldn’t deny it. Using [im//possibility] so much had messed her up badly. She was close to losing consciousness, but holding on by power of will, at least until she was sure everything was alright.
“I will rest,” Theora promised. “I will… right now…” She staggered a little. “Aw, oh no. My nightgown is wet now, and torn-up.”
“Gotta sleep naked, then. No choice,” Dema whispered from behind Theora, and gave her a soft start.
Meanwhile, Harrik had finished greeting Kara, and, carrying her on his shoulder, approached the three, smiling, but weary. The activations of [im//possibility] had left their mark on him as well, his face tinted blue.
“I— Thank you so much.” He gasped for air for a moment, then looked at Isobel. “Contained. You said you have it contained?”
Isobel clacked a nod. “Yep! All good!”
He issued a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you. Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I’d get rid of it— Is it… sealed off for good?”
“For good!” she answered. “As long as we keep it inside her coat!”
His eyes wandered to Theora. “Can you… keep it for me, then?”
Theora got a little dizzy, but felt Dema’s touch steady her at her waist. She blinked. “I can keep it?” she asked, very quietly.
“If it doesn’t burden you too much…”
“Burden,” Theora echoed, a little confused.
How could it be a burden? A time dilation device in her travelling coat? She couldn’t have invented a more amazing item if she tried. And Isobel had already flipped the switch. Now, Theora’s precious baking ingredients would stay fresh so much longer. She might even be able to fetch lava without it cooling off.
“I shall carry the burden,” she said solemnly, and nodded, and almost lost balance.
“Alright li’l rabbit, let’s get you to bed,” Dema said, and interlocked her arm with Theora’s to stabilise her.
Dema wasn’t naked. Dema had thrown her tattered robe back on after leaving the bath. This was a relief.
So, Theora proceeded to let herself be guided up the stairs and through the corridors; notably, Dema stopped at each hole Theora’s ejection had left within the bathhouse to patch up with… dried and condensed slabs of her own blood that she conjured from under her fingernails.
“Shouldn’t you,” Theora murmured, “Shouldn’t… better… use rock?”
“Don’t have any rock here!” Dema chirped. “Blood’s more convenient to supplement wood, easier to seep into the fibres to form connections! Plus, rock’s too heavy for a stone house.”
“I see,” Theora hummed. “Blood it is.”
“Blood it is. Gonna help them fix it up properly later if they don’t want my bloodstone all over the place.”
“You are precious,” Theora murmured, sleep-drunk.
“Why, thank you. Also, what happened?”
“Shade,” Theora said. “Shade swallowed me up. After you were gone.” She threw a short accusatory glance at Dema. “After you left me behind, all alone, in bed. Shade also swallowed up the missing person a while ago. Tossed me back out when I fixed the belly-ache.”
“I see!” Dema said as if this all made total sense.
A while and three blood-clotted holes in the ground later, they arrived back at their room.
Dema positioned Theora in the middle, saying, “I’m gonna fetch something for you to wear.”
The Shade was not here anymore. It didn’t sit on the bed. Theora waddled towards the window, placed her hands on the sill, and looked outside. She couldn’t see the Shade, but it was dark, so she couldn’t be sure. A few more slow steps brought her to the bed, and she knelt down to look underneath it.
Only darkness.
Theora was a bit too tired to get up again, so she crawled away to look underneath the other bed too.
“Whatcha doing?” Dema went, having fetched an oversized shirt.
Hm. Perhaps the Shade ran away because of all the bad things that happened. But Theora would have liked to say goodbye. But she could understand why the Shade might not want to, after having been put through such an ordeal. So, perhaps the Shade had gone back home?
Theora frowned at that thought. Where would that home be, Theora? she scolded herself. Her thoughts were not making much sense, were they? She could feel the segments of her brain shutting off one by one. They were retiring for the day, leaving her to fend all on her own, completely without a brain.
First Dema, then the Shade, and now her head. Everyone was leaving Theora behind.
There had been those terrible visions of Bell and Iso, too.
Before Theora could realise, Dema had already pulled her back into a sitting position, and was helping her change into the shirt. Then, Dema picked her up into a princess carry, and threw her into bed.
Literally threw her. Theora found herself flying through the air for a second, curdled up into a ball, and then plummeted onto the mattress in a soft thump. Perfect, soft, velvety sheets.
Theora stared at the demon.
“I loved that,” she said. “I love being thrown.”
Dema giggled. “Figured you might!” Then, she picked up a half-torn piece hanging down her cloak and used it to dry off her own hair. When she was done, she turned to the door and waved. “There we go. Now, sleep! See you!”
“Wait,” Theora mumbled. “What do you think you are doing?”
Dema halted at that sudden strict tone. “Why, I was gonna go and help out with the repairs?”
“Please don’t leave me again.”
Dema slowly made a few steps back into the room. “I can’t leave?”
“Ever,” Theora said, holding out her hand in an offer to be fetched. “You left, and then I got swallowed by a Shade.”
“Why, almost sounds like you’re blaming me.” Dema closed in and grasped Theora’s fingers, then sat down on the bed beside her. “The Shade would’ve been here either way!”
“We could have been swallowed together.”
“You would have preferred that?”
“Yes.”
Theora didn’t quite understand why she was saying these things, because her critical thinking was already asleep. It was also very dark, and her vision a bit blurred with exhaustion. All she could do was look at a little lint on Dema’s cloak. A tiny fluff of fabric, condensed, hanging on. How was it so pretty?
Ah, no, it wasn’t the lint itself; it was the fact that it was resting on Dema. That made it very cool.
She blinked, and at that, Dema noticed Theora’s gaze, followed it, found the lint with an “Ah!”, and flung it to the floor.
What a sad day for this lint.
“You won’t toss me off like this one, right?”
Dema gave a laugh. “Why, you feel bad for it? Sorry!” She bowed down, picked the lint back up, and placed it on her cloak. “There! Better?”
Theora nodded.
“Alright,” Dema said, humming. “Fine, I won’t leave you. But… you’re gonna sleep for weeks, right? When will I be able to help the others!”
Theora pouted. “Don’t you like scheming? Figure something out. Use that pretty head of yours.”
Dema let out a surprised “Wha!” and stared down. “Figure something out? How! Not possible to help them if I’m stuck here!”
“Find a way,” Theora said, and harrumphed. “Be creative.” After all, she’d needed to be creative too.
Dema interlocked her fingers with Theora’s, and they were so soft and warm. “Why, little rascal. So assertive today! So confident.”
“That must be why you lo—”
Theora swallowed, clenching Dema’s soft hand. “… Like me.”
“Dang, careful there. You’re so tired, you’re gonna say some dangerous things.” She raised an eyebrow. “Actually, maybe I should keep you awake a little longer. Just to… hear you out!”
“I’m very tired,” Theora hummed back. “It would be quite cruel to keep me awake on purpose, for your own amusement.”
“Yes,” Dema agreed. “Cruel’s good. Am the Ancient Evil, after all. Gotta protect my image.”
“Protect your image by keeping me awake.”
“Yeah.”
Theora pulled Dema’s hand closer, and wrapped her other one around it too. She closed her eyes. “I see. Keeping me company when I’m exhausted. Waiting for your chance to help out the others. Very evil. Diabolical. Can’t believe that I lo— … That I like someone like you.”
“Yeah,” Dema rasped, graciously forgoing to comment on Theora’s complete lack of a filter like the saint that she was. “And I got a lot of other schemes going, too. Oh, speaking of, you won’t believe the evil plan I have for our date. Been working on it for a while. Started in Hallmark, actually. It’s gonna blow you away!”
“Mhm,” Theora hummed, almost asleep. “Can’t wait. Blow me away.”
Then, she dozed off.
