Antics POV:
Sparks of the campsites fire speck up
TCSHC
TCSHC
I always wake up fast. No groggy stretching, no blinking at the sun like some idiot bird trying to remember where it laid its eggs. Just—bam—awake. Like my body knows something might kill me the second I let my guard down.
That morning was no different.
Only difference?
She wasn't there.
I blinked once. Twice. Sat up slow. The dew was still clinging to my lashes, and the fire was out, just smoldering coals and a few stupid twigs I hadn't cleaned up. Grin was still hunched like a gargoyle, doing his usual creepy sleep thing where you can't tell if he's dreaming or astral projecting. Dolly? Face-first in a patch of moss, muttering something like "Prince Edward, don't touch my bustle."
But No Eyes—she was always the quiet one. Still, she'd say something if she got up. Or leave some weird cryptic trail of flower petals or breath ghosts. Something.
I stood fast. "No Eyes?"
No answer.
I spun. Blanket? Still folded. Her dress? Still on. That meant she didn't just wander off for a river dip or something dumb.
I took two steps. Then four. The forest stretched out ahead of me like a bad idea in a fancy coat. I squinted.
"Shit," I muttered.
Dolly stirred like a devil being summoned. "What... what is it now? Did you step in a beetle orgy again?"
"She's not here."
Dolly's porcelain head popped up. "Who's not—"
"No Eyes," I snapped. "She's gone."
The weight of those words slammed into the air like thunder in a small room.
Dolly sat up fast. Her chipped arm caught the light, made her look even more cracked than usual. "Gone as in left? Or gone as in devoured by tree snakes?"
"I don't know," I hissed. "She didn't wake me. She just... she's just gone."
"Don't say it again," Dolly said, getting to her feet like a vengeful duchess with a hangover. "She's not gone. She probably just went to collect weird rocks or have a cryptic moment with a tree stump. You know, like she does."
Grin's voice rumbled low behind me, slow as always. "She... moved... without sound. Into... the forest."
I spun toward him. "And you didn't stop her?"
"I do... not stop... the living," he said, rising to full height. "I... watch."
"Well maybe WATCH a little louder next time, you lanky corpse cosplayer."
Dolly was pacing now. "That girl can't be five steps away without attracting some spiritual migraine or haunted squirrel. How did she slip past us?"
"Maybe she wanted to," I said, throat tightening.
I ran a hand through my hair. The forest was too quiet. The birds weren't chirping. The Breaths weren't singing. Even the wind sounded like it was holding its breath.
"Why would she leave?" I asked.
Grin didn't answer. Dolly just growled. "She's not a why person. She's a do person. She moves like she's being pushed from the inside out. And now she's—"
"I'm going after her."
"You're not going alone," Dolly snapped, picking up her parasol like it was a saber. "You'll get distracted by a sexy mushroom and end up dating a moss spirit."
"First of all, rude. Second of all, I'm serious."
"I'm coming too," she said. "But not for you. For her."
Grin stepped forward last. His scythe slid into his hand like an extension of his shadow. "She is... not far. But... fading."
"Fading?"
"Like... memory... with no tether."
Dolly's breath caught. She didn't say anything else. Just pushed past us and started marching toward the edge of camp.
I followed.
I didn't tell them that my chest was tight. That my ears were ringing in that weird, high-pitched way they do when I'm scared but pretending I'm not. That the back of my throat felt like it had splinters.
I didn't say how many times I'd looked toward her in the past few days, thinking if she disappears again, I'll follow her into hell.
I didn't say it because I didn't need to.
I was already doing it.
"Okay," I muttered, adjusting the straps on my overalls with absolutely zero urgency, "so she's gone."
"She's always gone," Dolly snapped. "That girl walks like sleep paralysis—no warning, no context, no shoes."
Grin tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowed, mouth locked in that creepy I'm fine but probably not smile. "She... walks... like she... already... knows... the end."
"Ugh." Dolly rolled her porcelain eyes. "Wonderful. The corpse poet speaks."
I leaned forward, ruffling my hair with one hand, eyes narrowing as I scanned the underbrush. "No tracks. No scent. No singing trees. Just... forest."
"I hate the quiet," Dolly muttered, arms crossed tight like a disapproving Victorian governess. "It's always followed by drama."
"Could be worse," I said, crouching to sniff a patch of moss. "She could've walked into a carnivorous cave or—oh."
Oh.
The moss... blinked.
Before I could yelp, the ground cracked like cheap pottery and hands—actual gauntleted hands—erupted from the earth.
"What the—?!" I screamed, scrambling back as a figure cloaked in shadows and armored in obsidian yanked me off my feet. Their helmet shimmered like oil-slick glass—expressionless.
"Restrain them," one said, voice flat and machine-sweet.
Dolly shrieked. "UNHAND ME YOU GLOW-IN-THE-DARK WALKING TOILET!"
Another soldier tried to grab her. She clocked him with her tiny handbag, which exploded into glitter and sewing needles.
Grin didn't move. At all.
He let them bind him.
His smile didn't flinch. Not even as the cuffs snapped tight.
I, on the other hand, was writhing like a feral possum. "Do you KNOW who I am? I'm 63% muscle, 30% chaos, and 7% irreplaceable charm!"
"Restrain him tighter," the guard said.
"Rude."
One of them yanked my head back. I blinked up at a second helmet—this one etched with curling silver.
"The blind girl," the helmet said. "Where is she?"
I scowled. "I dunno. Where's your social grace?"
The cuff cinched. Hard. My bones popped like popcorn kernels. I winced.
"She's not with them," another guard confirmed. "Bring these three to the Gate."
Before I could yell something charming and definitely helpful, a sack went over my head.
__________________________
Pecola's Pov;
My braid swung.
My eyes glowed.
I stepped out of the shack, back into that airless clearing.
And that's when the ground shook.
The trees moaned. Wind howled like it had teeth. I stumbled, then stood still, heart beating unevenly.
Voices.
Marching.
Something coming closer.
I turned, too slow.
A flash of silver. A whir of enchantment. And then—
Rough hands.
Not warm. Not cruel. Just... efficient.
I didn't scream. I don't usually. Screaming never stops hands.
I just asked, "Are you taking me somewhere important?"
One guard hesitated. "...Yes."
"Okay."
They cuffed my wrists in something humming and gold.
I let them.
Because deep down, I think I was supposed to go.
I was tired of walking in circles.
As they marched me away, into the thicket of haunted trees, a strange thought struck me:
If I don't know who I am... maybe someone else does.