T0+F1IGH_T - FRACTURED://EDEN

Wind tears at my flesh like invisible claws, as if the sky itself is trying to skin me. It howls into my ears, a tune that no mortal must hear.

How long have I been falling? Hours? Days? Time is but an abstract concept to me now.

My eyes burn, pushed deep into their sockets by the velocity, and I can't close them. They're forced open, peeled wide to witness the descent.

Tears stream back across my face, coating me in a thin, sticky membrane. It clouds my vision, but I don't care.

I don't want to see.

Not this place. Not them.

Not the shapes that leer at me from the churning darkness below.

Shapes that do not belong to any taxonomy known to man. Things with too many limbs, or not enough. With orifices that weep, mouths that whisper sideways, and eyes that open only when unobserved. They do not move with grace nor malice, but with the right to be here. The way a storm has a right to thunder. The way gravity has a right to pull. The way fire has a right to burn.

It is a set rule that these things may exist down here.

I am the invader.

They are watching me. All of them. Their attention is cold and amused. Not hateful. Amused.

As if a curious little creature had leapt from safety into the abyss and screamed, "Look at me!"

A fool.

I'm falling, but it no longer feels like falling. It's more like being unraveled. My sense of body is slipping away, strand by strand, like I'm being forgotten by reality.

Like, I never fit in the first place. The longer I fall, the more the world above feels like fiction.

I'm scared. I'm terrified.

I don't want to look.

BuT i Do

And they see that I do.

The veil parts. A momentary, unforgivable clarity.

This land…I can't even call it that, not anymore; is a lattice of broken dimensions stitched together with writhing threads of concepts man was never meant to name. The air is a chasm. The sky weeps time.

Mountains hum with the thoughts of sleeping minds so colossal that even dreaming stirs stars into madness.

Sanity is no longer something I can hold. It's a joke. A toy. A string cut and left to unravel.

And I make a noise.

It begins as a gurgle.

Then it rises. Higher. Louder. Something between a cackle and a sob. Something raw, wet, unhinged. Not born from joy or irony or hysteria, but from the realization that everything I ever knew was a lie built to protect minds like mine from this.

What is that rhythmic sound emanating from the recesses of my body?

What is it?

Ah, I'm laughing.

For what else shall I do?

Then—

SPLAT.

A sound without echo. A thud without pity. A smear across the earth. A ruined shape tangled with grass and stone and godless earth.

Just flesh. Bone. A mind still faintly aware. A melting mosaic of muscle and thought.

A joke.

Their joke.

The gods that dwell in the cracks of reality observe in silence. They do not cheer. They do not curse. They simply note.

There is no longer 'Kaito'.

Only,

"The Flying Fool."

_________________________________________________________

The sound of thumping.

It's louder this time.. Slowly inching closer.

Hands gripping me all over.

An upside-down castle.

A woman sitting on a throne.

"Dummy. That fish wasn't good for you~."

_____________________________________________________

"—Hgk!!"

My lungs explode open like someone jammed a wire into my chest and flipped a switch.

I hit the dirt hard. My knees slam into the grass, and I collapse onto my hands. The ground is cold and damp. It's real. I'm awake. I'm alive.

My stomach heaves to and fro. My arms are shaking, my chest is rattling, and it feels like my heart's trying to crawl out of my throat. Sweat pours off me in waves.

It slicks down my spine, sticks my shirt to my skin, and makes everything feel ten times heavier.

My eyes shake from side to side, trying to understand the environment around me. They're most probably bloodshot, tears running down them.

My hair clings to my face. My breathing, no wheezing, is a mess. I gasp. I wheeze. Each inhale stabs like knives into my ribs. I can't fill my lungs. I can't stop shaking.

Saliva drips from my mouth, hanging in thin strings before splashing to the ground. I'm trying my utmost not to hurl right then and there. My eyes won't blink. I'm stuck like this, wide open, staring down at the dirt like it holds the answers.

It doesn't.

I never saw the future. I never saw the future.

I truly died, in every sense of the word.

It was too real to be some kind of premonition or dream. The impact of my body hitting the ground was too real.

I do not remember what had happened in my journey into the dark, but I feel as if I should never do.

My eyes trail down to my right, a faint white glow attracting their attention.

That damned glowing skull stares into my soul, it's hollow sockets almost curled in a deafening smile.

My hands curl into fists. Nails dig into the soil. I can feel the dirt wedging under them, cutting at the skin. It stings, burns even, but it's distant. A tiny ember in the middle of a wildfire.

I want to cry. But I must hold it in. I must not cause a scene.

My stomach churns again. I want to throw up. I want to stop moving.

I can't do this.

I can't look them in the eye after what I—

"Kaito, you seem unwell."

The voice cuts through the haze like a blade. Raspy. Calm. Familiar.

Kyros.

He's alive.

But I killed him.

The memory of it rips through my brain like a bullet. His face, his blood, that pearl. My body convulses before I can stop it.

I can no longer hold it.

A brief rattle inside my stomach seals the deal.

"Khhka—!!"

I gag violently, and bile pours from my mouth, splattering onto the ground. Bitter acid burns my throat as I, for a lack of better terms, shit it out my mouth.

I cough. I choke. My whole body trembles as the wave of nausea crashes over me.

I can't breathe.

They can't see me like this.

Kors's body tenses at my sudden heaving of fluids, and instantly jumps to action.

"Ms. Highergald!" Kyros calls behind him. "Something is wrong with Kaito!"

"I-I'm fine!" I choke out, turning to whatever direction he just yelled at. It's a lie, and I know it. Saliva and mucus run down my face, a clear contrast to my previous statement.

Kyros grabs my arm.

"We will treat you. Please hang in there!"

His hands are small and cold, stone-like, yet strong. Too strong. I try to pull away, but it's like fighting a wall.

"L-Let go! I said I'm fine!"

"You clearly are unwell, Kaito!"

He just lifts me up like I weigh nothing. I'm too weak to resist.

Vomit clings to my lips. I wipe it away with my sleeve, scrubbing like that's going to undo what I've done. The details of my vision are missing, like the world forgot to render.

I'm panicking.

I'm falling apart in front of them.

And then, like a curse, it happens again.

That voice.

"What's wrong?"

Ah, it's her.

T H E G I R L I C H O K E D T H E L I F E O U T O F.

My eyes shoot toward her.

Navi.

Alive. Awake. Confused.

Dead. Asleep. Confused.

Walking back toward us.

Her face is calm. Untouched. Innocent.

But I remember her eyes going bloodshot.

I remember her twitching.

I remember—

I remember crushing her throat with my own two hands.

And now she's here. Like it never happened.

But it did.

I can't hold it together.

"UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

_____________________________________________________________________

"Clang!"

The sharp cry of metal against metal echoed through the trees. Sparks flared where the weapons met, casting fleeting light across the dark forest.

Arivia twisted to the side, narrowly evading a downward strike from Zhenbai, who landed in front of her.

"You're surprisingly fast for someone carrying a weapon that size."

Zhenbai remarked, her tone casual, almost amused.

Arivia said nothing. She countered with a wide horizontal swing of her longsword, aiming for her opponent's torso.

Zhenbai dodged easily, and the blade embedded itself into the trunk of a nearby tree with a dull thunk.

Zhenbai hopped up onto the flat of the sword, arms folded across her chest. From atop it, she gazed down at Arivia with a smug glint in her eye.

The expression made Arivia grit her teeth.

It wasn't that she lacked proficiency. Her skill with the longsword was refined. But in this densely wooded terrain, the weapon's reach became a liability. Broad swings were impractical. Trees obstructed her path, giving Zhenbai every advantage.

She was clearly exploiting it.

Arivia would need to change tactics to focus on thrusts, tighter movements. Or resort to her trump card.

Still perched on the blade, Zhenbai dropped into a crouch, then launched a swift kick toward Arivia's head. Arivia ducked just in time, the air hissing above her hair.

With a grunt of effort, she yanked the sword free from the tree. Zhenbai flipped backward midair and launched herself off the trunk, using the recoil to rocket toward her once more, scythes poised to strike.

Arivia raised her blade and blocked the blow, though the sheer force pushed her several steps back.

Rather than resist the knockback, she used it. Letting the momentum flow into her arms, Arivia turned into a full rotation, winding her body for another strike.

Zhenbai scoffed. "Cool it. You're not beating me head-on. Use your trump card, if you've got one."

The blade carved a vicious arc through the air—

But Arivia's foot suddenly braced against the earth, halting her movement.

She caught the blade mid-hilt and edge, gripping it with her gauntlet-covered hand in a half-sword stance. With controlled force, she lunged.

A precise thrust.

Zhenbai's eyes widened. She leaned back, just barely avoiding the tip of the blade.

"A feint?! With a weapon that size?!"

Regaining her balance, Arivia caught her bearings and raised her weapon once again.

"Momentum works both ways." She panted, returning her weapon to its previous position.

The two reengaged, circling each other in the gloom. Neither blinked. Both watched, waiting for the smallest tell in the other's stance.

Zhenbai's posture had changed. The casual confidence was gone. In its place: caution.

At first, she had believed Arivia to be reckless, swinging a heavy blade with brute force and little finesse.

But now…

Now she could see it clearly in her opponent's eyes.

This was someone who had mastered her weapon.

Arivia watched her opponent just as closely. Zhenbai's reflexes were unnatural. It was as though she anticipated the trajectory of every attack a moment before it landed.

If it came to it…

If it truly came to it…

She would have to use her ability.

"Go ahead, my sweet Ari! There's possibly no chance of you winning! So release that power!"

The woman called out, her arms outstretched, stuck in a mocking pose.

Arivia gritted her teeth.

As much as she wanted to deny it, Zhenbai was right.

There was no beating her. Not like this. Not in this terrain. It simply was impossible when every tree around them restricted her swings, when her opponent danced between trunks like they were her stage. Even the half-swording, as effective as it was in brief windows, had diminishing returns. Zhenbai would adapt. She was adapting.

A sigh came from the other side of the clearing. Calm, almost amused.

"I see," Zhenbai said at last. Her voice had changed, still casual, but with a predatory lilt. "If you won't take this seriously…"

She reached up and tugged at the bandages covering her right eye.

"I will."

The fabric fell. The moment it did, Arivia's stomach dropped.

A luminous, searing green glow bled out into the forest. Her opponent's iris was no longer human. It was now elongated and sharp, a slitted reptilian eye burning with eerie brilliance. Snakelike. Serpentine.

"DON'T MOVE."

Arivia's instincts screamed at her to avert her gaze.

But she couldn't.

That was the attack.

Her body froze.

The longsword slipped from her fingers and hit the grass with a soft thud. Her limbs locked. A crushing pressure clamped down on her chest, like invisible coils tightening. Every muscle in her body seized as if bound by iron wires.

She couldn't even twitch her fingers.

"What's the matter, Ari?"

Zhenbai strode forward leisurely, her twin scythes spinning idly in her hands with each step. The metallic hum of their movement filled the silence. Arivia could do nothing but watch as the sound drew closer. Closer. Closer.

Sweat dripped from her brow.

She couldn't breathe.

Zhenbai knelt before her, the single eye still glowing. Her mouth curled in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She lifted Arivia's chin with a single finger, her tone mocking, yet tender.

"You're really cute, y'know," she whispered. "I'd hate to mess up a face like this."

The scythe in her left hand hovered an inch from Arivia's neck. Any closer, and it would penetrate her skin.

"But I've been paid a very generous sum."

Still no response.

Was this some sort of Severant function that she had never heard of? No, she had not utilized her weapons.

Then what exactly was it?

Observing her movements and eye, Arivia's mind scrambled for an answer.

In her silence, realization bloomed.

Gorgon.

Zhenbai wasn't human. She was a Gorgon, or Gorgari. One of the rarer Sapient races capable of turning the tide of battle with a single eye. They were primarily females, and their gaze alone could paralyze. When both eyes were exposed, it is said that they could petrify, even kill, with a mere look.

The main factor that contributed to the fact that the Gorgari were rare was a simple, yet dark one. When decapitated, the head tended to crystallize into a rare material. Such materials were extremely formidable and almost indestructible, which contributed to their worth.

This was why such a race almost always hid from common society, covering their defining features.

It was quite the sad existence, but such was the way of the world.

Zhenbai's right eye pulsed again, the image within it twisting like coiling snakes eating each other in an infinite spiral. It drew Arivia's vision like a whirlpool.

She couldn't see the scythe anymore. The same scythe that was raised above her head, ready to remove her head in one fell swoop.

"I might hang your head up somewhere in my room," Zhenbai mused. "Can't let beauty like that go to waste!"

The scythe glinted in the sunlight.

BANG!

A shot rang through the air. Birds exploded into the sky. Trees trembled.

Zhenbai flinched towards the sound.

Kors.

Arivia's mind registered it instantly. The sound of Kors's Severant revolver: GLOOM.

Zhenbai made a mistake.

She looked away.

In a blur of motion, Arivia's body moved on reflex. Her arm dropped to her waist, and her fingers clutched the hilt of a hidden knife. With one underhanded thrust, she sliced across Zhenbai's neck.

The skin was instantly cut, like fabric with little to no resistance whatsoever. It was a clean job.

Blood sprayed. A thin arc of red painted the air, spilling to the ground.

A sharp kick followed afterwards. Arivia's boot struck Zhenbai's stomach with enough force to send her reeling, stumbling backward.

While brutal, this was to create distance between her and the woman. Even when one had their throat cut open, they were still capable of attacking.

Zhenbai staggered. Choking.

Hands flew to her throat, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. Red gushed between her fingers. She was wobbling, limbs failing to coordinate. Her balance faltered.

Arivia didn't hesitate.

She wiped the blade against the inside of her arm, slid it back into its sheath, and reached for her longsword.

Her eyes never left the woman in front of her. Despite the frantic expression of her opponent, her expression was one of chilling calm.

Zhenbai's eyes, once so smug, were wide now. Disbelieving.

Still choking.

She staggered forwards, then backwards, an almost infinite supply of blood pouring down the orifices of her body.

Still choking.

Far too long.

Arivia's brows furrowed. Something was wrong.

Why hasn't she collapsed? That wound—

Then, suddenly—

"Aahaha… You got me," Zhenbai coughed out, the blood-stained bandages covering her mouth curving upwards.. "I'll admit, I did not see that coming. Well, it was real stupid of me to turn around…"

She stood up straight, spine cracking as she rolled her neck.

Arivia took a step back.

She's not dead? No—her wound. It's… healing?

Arivia's eyes went into overtime, attempting to analyze what exactly was wrong with her opponent's body.

"..."

Her body was…

Her body was unraveling.

That was the only way to describe it. Like bandages peeling themselves off, her form came undone and rewove itself. The wound around her neck coiled shut, flesh weaving together like threads pulled tight.

She was regenerating.

Arivia's eyes widened in horror.

Zhenbai's arm snapped forward. The limb unraveled, stretching and twisting like a whip—

It struck Arivia's solar plexus with brutal force.

"–GHK!"

All the air in her lungs fled.

Before she could recover, another strike caught her in the face, and she was thrown backward. The world spun as the sky and grass switched places.

She hit the ground and rolled.

What the hell was that?!

She clawed at the dirt, disoriented. Her lungs burned. Her ribs throbbed. Blood smeared her lips. Her form was now shrouded in shadow, a large tree looming overhead.

As for Zhenbai's ability…

No name had been called. It could not have been a Severant function.

No incantation spoken. It could not have been a Sorcery spell.

She braced herself, staggered to her feet, and looked up.

Zhenbai's body was reforming. The arm that had shot out now folded back into place, reshaping into flesh and muscle as if rewinding a spool of thread.

The bending of the bandages around her mouth curved too far, as if her jaw were too large.

"I really do feel bad for doing you like that," she laughed. "But gods, that look on your face…" She moaned.

She stepped forward again.

Arivia calculated the distance between her and the bandaged woman. Six meters.

Zhenbai kept talking.

"I was really hoping you'd unleash some big flashy ability at this point. That's how these fights usually go. But you haven't."

Five meters.

"So… I'm guessing you don't have one. Maybe you're just some normal girl caught up in all this."

Still five.

Arivia's hand twitched, her fingers edging closer to her mouth.

Zhenbai waved a hand lazily.

"Oh yeah. This? This isn't a Severant. Or Sorcery."

She paused.

"It's a Vocation."

Four meters.

Arivia stiffened.

Vocation?

Of course.

It was one of the five major paths that could be found within the Pattern. A pact, not with a spirit, but a concept, a truth. An 'Idea'. A vow that shaped one into something more, but only allowed itself to fully manifest if lived.

You formed a contract and received power.

But the stronger the concept, the rarer it was. And the more absolute your identity had to be to hold onto it.

For example, an individual with a fiery temperament would be able to harness the abilities of a Heat Vocation. However, if said individual were to slowly calm down over time, so would the flames they controlled.

Vocation users would be able to harness the abilities of other paths, yet only those who reached the pinnacle of their respective Vocation would be able to advance to the next stages in said other paths.

It was like saying, 'I have chosen only you as my main pursuit; all other forms of power are only secondary to me.'

Zhenbai's voice dropped into a murmur.

"I'm bound to my shape. My fluidity. My ability to change form, mold to the moment. It's who I am. And because of that, I have the Vocation of Unraveling."

Two meters.

There existed Vocations that utilized mentalities or personalities as their main basis. Such vocations were much more common.

But in this world, simply because one ability was more common than the other did not detract from its usefulness in battle. Just because one wielded the Vocation of Light did not mean they could not be beaten by one who utilized the Vocation of Sadness.

The woman inched closer.

Unravel.

The gorgon who had escaped from the massacre of her people, assimilating into the society of her very enemies, embodied this concept.

She stretched her arms again, skin shimmering, shifting.

"I unravel. And so long as I believe in that truth, so long as I live it, I'll never fall apart."

She smiled.

"You, though? You look like you're holding everything in."

Little did Zhenbai know, her time had already run out.

The confident persona she held at this current moment would soon be snuffed out by the cold winds of reality.

Arivia had bitten down on her finger minutes ago, drawing just enough blood for what came next.

Her lips moved, steady and cold.

"Noctyros-3: Seize."

A hand surged from the ground.

Purple. Almost black. Its form was unnatural, a smear of shadow shaped like a claw. It wasn't simply dark. It was void. No depth. No light. No texture. It felt wrong to look at, as if it shouldn't exist in the real world. Like someone had taken a drawing and ripped it off the page into reality.

The hand grabbed Zhenbai's leg before she could react.

"?!"

Her head snapped down to it. A scythe appeared in her hand, slashing down in a blur. Sparks flew. She grunted with effort.

But the hand did not budge.

Arivia slowly rose to her feet, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her gauntlet. Her armor scratched faintly with every motion. She leveled her hand toward Zhenbai, fingers curled like a gun, palm stained red.

"I've won."

Zhenbai's singular eye widened. She finally realized what her opponent had been doing.

"You.."

"You were luring me in... this whole time...!"

Noctyros-class spells only worked under specific conditions. Nightfall. Shadow. Darkness. They could not enter sunlight, because the contract between shadow and light was one of opposition.

One cancels the other.

That was why Arivia never chased Zhenbai after every exchange.

That was why she backed off, again and again, until her opponent was standing directly in the shadow of the tree.

While the other trees casted shadows of their own, they were not nearly powerful enough to support the weight of the spell. This specific tree alone was large enough to fulfill that requirement.

Zhenbai continued to swing at the black hand, each one turning more and more desperate, yet it never worked.

She struggled. Her body twisted, unraveling like cloth caught in the wind. Pieces of her came apart. Her form writhed violently, muscles tightening, blood pumping in wild surges.

But it was pointless.

The hand didn't just grip her leg. It held her shadow. And in the realm of shadow, that was the same as holding her soul.

Noctyros-3 was not a restraint. It was an executioner's grip.

Her scythe fell to the dirt behind her. Her hands clawed at her own leg, then the ground, then nothing. Her breathing grew ragged.

Desperation twisted across her face.

She looked up.

Arivia was walking toward her, slow and precise.

Their eyes met.

Zhenbai froze.

In Arivia's gaze, she saw no emotion. No joy. No pity.

Only the certainty of someone who had already decided to kill.

The cold gaze of a killer.

Zhenbai opened her mouth to speak.

But nothing came out.

"I don't reveal my ability to fodder like you."

__________________________________________________________________________

"You're telling me you died… and went back in time?" Navi asks.

Her expression is unreadable, somewhere between disbelief and disdain. Like she's trying to figure out if I've gone completely insane, or if I'm just pathetic.

If I look at her for another second, I think I really will lose it.

The line between life and death… It's not thin. It's razor sharp. When something dies, it's not sleeping. It's not paused. It's gone. The soul, the spark, the presence, whatever you want to call it, vanishes. What's left is an object. A thing. A body, nothing more. A corpse doesn't smile. A corpse doesn't breathe. A corpse just stays there.

It was supposed to be a one-way street.

But I returned.

And now I'm looking at the same people I killed, sitting in front of me. Breathing. Moving. Talking.

I want to throw up. But there's nothing left inside.

What scares me more is how easy it was. How I gave it no thought, just mulling along as if it were normal. This is what terrifies me the most.

I saw them as a medicinal relief to alleviate the pain I was going through.

My thoughts were nothing but static. Like my mind was underwater, bubbling with desperation. My body moved before I could stop it. My instincts screamed. My nerves lit up like fire. Everything else shut down.

And for a while, it was better like that.

Now? Now I have to live with it.

I'd rather be back in that state. At least then, I wouldn't be able to process what I did.

Death... death isn't just the moment it happens. It's the feeling after.

And it's worse. It's so much worse. Simply putting it into words would do it injustice.

I didn't think it would hit this hard. I didn't think this world would... fight back. That it would feel like punishment.

My hands are quivering.

But I should've known better.

The journey wouldn't be handed to me. That was naive. This isn't a dream. There are rules. Costs.

Still... I have something. A unique power that I can weld.

I've seen this kind of story before. But this time, I'll do it right. I'll use this power fully. I'll control the narrative. I won't break

Because I'm built differently.

I'm special.

I'm—

Why are my hands still shaking?

Kyros is silent. I can't read his face, but something about his posture tells me he's uncertain. Cautious. Maybe scared. Maybe not of me… but for me.

I'm leaning against the old tree. Wind brushes the grass, cool air finally calming the heat burning in my chest.

I wipe my mouth. Breathe in. Out.

Finally, my eyelids resume their natural positions, the adrenaline dripping out of my nerves.

"Yes, it sounds insane. But I can prove it this time."

Navi doesn't respond right away. Her eyes drift elsewhere.

"...Is this like the last time you said that?" she says finally. Her voice is softer now. Almost quiet.

"No, no, I'm not lying—"

A sharp pain strikes my gut. I grip my stomach, groaning. It's that feeling. Not as bad, but it's still—

BZZT

"Khhaa…."

Kyros turns toward the fire.

He's looking at the half-eaten purple fish, still cooking next to the fire.

His body jolts.

"Kaito. Did you eat that fish?" he snaps.

"H-Huh? Y-Yeah…?"

He's already moving.

Suddenly his hand is in my mouth, pushing so far down I can't even gag in time. My eyes shoot wide.

"?!"

There's a pull in my gut, like something is being dragged out of me by force. My back arches, and a scream rips from my throat as Kyros yanks his arm back.

The scream itself does not come from me, but rather from within me.

I collapse, hacking up yellow bile onto the grass.

He drops something beside me with a loud thud.

I look and my stomach sinks.

It's... a worm.

A massive, two-meter-long parasite, writhing, snapping at the air. Its body is pure black, lined with twitching legs and a gnashing, tendril-shaped maw. A real-life nightmare, flailing and soaked in the fluids of my insides.

"What the hell is that?!"

Before it can slither away, a blur flashes through the air. Navi's sabre strikes clean through it, cleaving the creature in half. A spray of green fluid sizzles against the earth.

Navi doesn't lower her arm.

"A Lurker," she says.

I scramble backwards, nearly tripping on my own legs.

"The fuck?!"

"These parasites nest in hosts, usually fish from umbral valleys." Navi begins, walking over to reclaim her sabre. "Once ingested, they begin feeding from the inside. Slowly. Organ by organ." Her voice is cold as she picks up her sabre, assessing the damage done by throwing it.

Kyros crouches beside the bisected body, grabbing one of the twitching legs.

"They begin small inside their first host," he explains, shaking the creature.. "From there, the parasite will make the host more enticing to predators by causing it to seem more fattening. It will then begin a process where the taste of the creature will be changed to an extremely pleasant one. Once they are within the second host, or the predator that had eaten the first, they begin to grow. They will consume the second host from the inside out, a slow but gradual process. When complete, it will inject a potent venom that alters the brain, to release itself and escape into the world as an adult. Once an adult, it will cause unimaginable havoc."

I stare at the split creature, my breath caught in my throat. Blood pools around its body slowly, a testament to the amount of time I spend staring at it.

Something like that had been inside me.

My stomach still throbs. My hands are stained. My mouth tastes like metal and bile.

I just sit there. Staring at it.

Quietly.

Because there's nothing else to say.

Chapter 7 - T0+F1IGH_T