***********
Floyd Heath
My eyes shake as I wake up to complete darkness, a pale face staring at me with overflowing joy. I don't recognize the face but recall the woman's abilities. The entire carriage of the wagon has turned into a realm of darkness, the seats and curtains barely noticeable under the shadows. Immediately when I notice her, I scream at the top of my lungs, but she only smiles at my attempt to call for Silas, who should be just outside.
"Silas! Help! Johnny! Wyatt!"
The woman slides toward me, her body gliding over the darkness effortlessly as she approaches me. Her alabaster lips open to a cruel torture.
"They can't hear you, dear. I'm afraid it's just you and me. And them."
What? She's insane. I thought Johnny and Abraham were exaggerating but evidently not. I'm no fighter, but I try to resist anyway, blood curling up my fingers as I prepare a Sedative with my Ether. Yet the woman merely laughs at my attempt, threads coming from above to wrap their sharp lines around my skin to hold me still. But out of nowhere, she looks down, her body going still for a moment.
Darkstep's disheveled pale hair hangs limply around her face. At the same time, she remains still, partially obscuring her wild, glassy eyes that dart erratically. But after that moment passes, she shifts back and forth in the seat opposite mine as she speaks, muttering incoherent words to no one but herself.
"Relax! I know what I'm doing. No! They won't find out. Shut up! I've done this for decades! I was only found out because of a Power that could rewind fucking time, okay! Hey, you! Shut up before I gut you!"
Her voice carries an unsettling edge, each syllable dripping with venomous intensity. The words spill forth in a torrent, a maddening stream of threats and gibberish that intertwines with a distorted reality only she can perceive. It's as if she dances on the precipice between worlds, teetering on the edge of sanity and plunging into the abyss of her own delusions.
Some part of me wants to help her, the oath I made so long ago in Brightford coming to mind. But the other part wants to be as far away as possible. She's beyond help.
I feel a chill crawl up my spine as her gaze fixates on me, her eyes burning with an unhinged determination. She steps closer, her movements jerky and unpredictable, her voice growing louder and more menacing. It's as if the air around her crackles with invisible lightning, a volatile energy amplifying her madness.
And it's as I notice the oddity in the air I see what's wrong. Dark, shimmering motes of silver run along her pupils and fingernails as she licks her lips at me. A Motherbound... how!? Nononono!
"Johnny!"
Again, my screams meet nothing but crazed hallucination as my instincts scream at me to run, to escape the clutches of this deranged woman. Yet, her threads keep me from moving even a bit, each breath alone earning me cuts that I fight to stem the bleeding of with Stauge.
"You aren't this, Darkstep! You are a Nahullo! Not a servant of some God! Where is your pride!?"
I try to reason with her, to calm the storm brewing within her mind, but my words fall on deaf ears. She looms over me, and her face is contorted into a twisted mask of anger and desperation. She speaks in threat at me and some unseen entity. Yet, despite the danger that emanates from her presence, I cannot help but feel a pang of sympathy for the tormented soul she has become.
"You better be right about this. I don't want to stay human. Stay still!"
A spike of pain runs along every major joint in my body as the threads tighten from me yelling for help. However, the phrases from her mouth are more concerning because of how she looks at me. Under her gaze, I feel more like a sack of flesh than a human. It is unnerving, and I can't help but tremble, more screams leaving my mouth for help. I am nothing but prey to her, a small morsel with the true hunts still outside.
"Johnny! Please! Help!"
Still, nothing comes to my aid, only darker pastures. Not even the man who has always come when I called, from when he first saved me from a Skinwalker, preying on the innocent in my town, to years later when we met again, the man asking for me to help his wife with her birth. He's always been there. But... this time, he can't hear me. Darkstep's words grow more volatile, and her gestures are more frenzied, as if her existence teeters on the edge of a precipice. Finally, it becomes clear that some other force now owns her mind; the previous owner directly sent into the abyss.
"I can't! That is suicide! No! Fine! As you wish. For the Mother. Anything for her."
The half-Nahullo raises her hand, tinges of Darklight invested in her fingers. And as her palm approaches me, I, knowing what this entails, struggle.
I fight with everything I have and then some. Every fiber of my being screams in agony as the razor-like thread tightens its grip around me, cutting into my flesh with merciless precision. Each movement I make sends searing pain coursing through my body. Still, I refuse to surrender to the light of this malevolent darkness. I've seen what it does to people first in the field, second-hand in a tent, and third-hand in a lab.
As I do so, I scream with all the air left in my lungs, hoping against hope that Johnny will save me. No. He will. He always has. I'm his doctor, and he's my protector. Never before has he let me down, and I, him. Come on!
"Johnny! Help! Please!"
But all that happens is I move a few inches, the threads digging inches into my flesh and meeting bone. My blood splashes a line of dark red against the wall of shadow as I howl in pain in my strife. Then, finally, Darkstep chuckles with such fervor that I shiver, genuine terror making me pause long enough for the woman to place her finger on my head.
And as she does, everything goes white, the world turning into an alabaster wall, but still, I struggle. Again, I scream as I try to fight the wire I can no longer see, the fervent hope dwindling as the paleness invades my body, the gloaming swarming out from it to combat my own Ether. I give up on asking Johnny and plead for anyone at all.
"Please! Anyone!"
Still, no one answers.
The razor wire digs deeper, slicing through layers of muscles and into bone. Every moment spent trapped in its clutches is a battle against the relentless torment of Darkstep, the Mother Below somehow taking her into her grasp.
My mind races, searching for a solution, a path to escape, but none exist. All I can do is hope that Johnny saves me.
Again, as the white consumes my mind, the darkness my body, I cry for help, the wire splitting bone with its bite.
"Johnn--!"
*************
Wyatt Graves
Worried for the doctor, I demand speed beyond my wounds and leap directly into the wagon. And with Silas, as I temporarily ignore the pain, we open the canvas of the wagon. My heart drums in anticipation for what lies behind, some dark part of me sensing something off.
But when the canvas moves, all we see is a sleeping Heath, the man curled up into a ball on one of the seats, drool leaking from his mouth.
I breathe out a sigh of relief as I step inside, taking a spot beside the physician. Then, laughing out to Silas, I pat the man's shoulder.
"Wow. I thought something was up. Poor man. He's so exhausted."
Silas, the man who just told Heath to stop being lazy, has his gaze soften as he agrees.
"Yeah. I didn't know it was this bad. But I suppose it makes sense. The rest of us fight until we are out of Ether or until we can't move. Heath tends to us, even if he can't stand, someone wheeling him around to do so."
Johnny then steps into the carriage, the man pausing momentarily as his gaze catches on a portion of the wall. He stares with such intensity I could swear that he was looking at a lifelong enemy. But as the lady beside him trips clambering up the wagon, he turns around to help her before pulling her in.
I give him an eye as he guides Autumn in carefully, seating her across from the sleeping Heath.
"Everything fine, Johnny?"
He pauses as he sits, his eye returning to that same spot on the wall, a section directly above the unconscious Heath. But after a moment of evident confusion, he shakes his head before answering.
"Hmm... yeah... it just felt weird walking in."
I nod along with him, feeling the same thing. It must just be the long day messing with us. Even I could go for a good night's sleep. And I do.
Moving to the back of the wagon as Johnny sighs and pokes Heath to wake him up, I give the silent Autumn a smile as she stays beside the gunslinger.
"Hey... Heath? We got a survivor. I need you to wake up, man."
A fatigued groan fills the wagon as the doctor rolls over, bags in his eyes. Shaking his head, a palm covering his eyes, Heath apologizes.
"Sorry, just had a terrible nightmare."
Then, the doctor pulls the hand from his face, his sleepy and unusual gaze softening as he sees Autumn. I try to close my eyes to sleep, but something about the situation keeps me from doing so.
Instead, I watch Heath examine Autumn, the older man asking her a few questions as he reaches into his duffle bag of medicine.
"What's your name?"
Autumn replies shortly, her eyes watching the man who just woke up as she treats him like he's dirt on the road.
"Autumn."
Heath ignores how she looks at him and jokes with her as he pulls out some burn ointment. I only recognize the look of the container due to sitting in with Bonfire during his burn treatment.
"Like the season or the plant?"
"The season."
Another blunt reply as Heath shifts to doctor mode.
"Okay, then. How does your head feel, Autumn, the season? Vision jittering? Hands shaky?"
The daughter of Maddox, the Sea's Shadow, shakes her head in reply. Heath then leans in and carefully puts the burn ointment against a particularly foul burn on her shoulder.
"No? Okay. Can you feel this?"
The view rapidly becomes mundane despite the underlying concern, so I slowly sink into exhaustion, the words slurring over time as my head hangs. Despite his larger size, Dakota curls into a ball and covers my whole lap, overflowing on the seat as we both fall into slumber.
"No."
"Okay. This?"
"Ow!"
"Okay. Let me apply this, then I'll check your internals."
"What!?"
"Not like that. Your bones and organs."
"Oh..."
"You seem fine, other than a fractur... I'll have to... You'll be fine..."
***************
As promised, my night is devoted to another instead of dormant sleep. The moment I entirely fall asleep, I feel a tug on my mind, and I don't resist, allowing the Lily to take me to her dreamscape.
Again, I awake on the shores of the Cardinal, the Othershore Flower all around me. The Lily sits beside me, pulling a single flower up as she stares at it curiously. I steal a gander at it, but the face is obscured as if hidden from some force. Hmm?
"I thought you could see the faces of those who died? Who's flower is this?"
The Lily shrugs, her petite form lying down as she sighs, the red spider lily revolving in her fingers.
"Dunno. Someone died. Dunno who. It's weird. I couldn't even take the soul. It's like... someone else took it... no, devoured it."
Hmm... Odd. An idea blooms as I think of the Motherbound I killed.
"Was it when I killed the Motherbound?"
She shakes her head, her red eyes blinking confusedly.
"No."
Again, I try, Geoffry, coming to mind.
"The man after? Geoffry?"
The Lily shakes her head again, her dark hair sliding against the grass of the bank.
"No. I got him. The others never even showed up in my aura. It's annoying. You think you can figure it out for me?"
I nod, not seeing why I shouldn't.
"Yeah, sure. Might take me a bit as I'm no investigator or arbiter, but I'll reason it out for you."
She smiles as she sits up, the flower falling to her side. But as she stares at me, unblinking with those crimson eyes, her grin shifts to a frown.
"Thank you! And call me Lily! I heard you call me 'the Lily'. It hurt! I'm not just an object, y'know! I'm your friend!"
Feeling a tad guilty, awkward, and embarrassed about future conversations, I agree with her demand.
"Of course! I didn't mean to upset you, Lily."
She grins again, revealing her pointed teeth that set me off the edge for some reason. I don't know why. They just remind me of something I can't quite name.
So while not trying to be rude, I mention them.
"Why are your teeth pointy, Lily? They seem built for predators, not people."
The spirit of the Blooming Spider Lily giggles, her laugh echoing down the endless river of shade.
"Haha! You're funny! Of course, they're like a predator's teeth! Your father built them based on his!"
"Huh?"
Unable to appropriately respond, I only eke out an uncertain response, and Lily continues.
"Yeah! Killian has real sharp teeth! I once saw him bite open a demon's throat! Though, I don't think they're his original teeth. They're way too dark to be human teeth. I think he got the from a demon or something."
"A demon?"
Again, I can barely respond, the shock of my father replacing teeth uncanny. But Lily just nods as if it's completely normal.
"Yeah, a demon... aw... we're out of time. I spent too long setting up the connection. At least we'll have more time next time!"
Wh--
Colors shift, the omniscient darkness of the river collapsing my vision as it feels like I fall back asleep.
***************
Scraping rock and sand wake me up from my sleep, light piercing through a gap in the canvas of the wagon. The head of Silas peeks through, his flaming eye sockets flaring toward me.
"We're at the cabin, Wyatt. If you want anything, hop out and be quick."
What?! We're here already?
I bolt up and notice that I'm the only one still in the medical wagon; Heath, Autumn, and Johnny are all gone. Even Bonfire isn't in here right now. Apologizing to Dakota, I drag myself out of the wagon, Dakota stretching before following me.
Silas is right. The wagon is stationed just some feet from Edmund's cabin as people, both Bado and human, lug boxes of weapons and ammo out of the home. Silas taps me forward, his hands inviting me toward the house.
"Go on. We can only get into it because of you. Once the door was open, anyone could walk in. We didn't have to be careful earlier, after all. Take whatever you want. Oh, and your Claymore is against the doorway on the inside. Only Frank could pick it up, you freak."
The undead ends with an insult, but I know he means it with kindness, his tone evident. And so, I shrug off his hand with a laugh as I move toward the cabin, keeping out of the way of the men carrying the weapons.
Slipping inside, I give Frank and Skysight, a 4th Sigiled Bado, a warm smile. Yesterday, we almost all died, but this... two hours past noon, is a new day. Damn, I slept a long time.
Once I'm inside, I shake the time off my pocketwatch before putting it back inside, my focus turning to the form of Reckless. The blade that has been a pain to lug around sits against the wall, a slight indent from its weight into the cabin's wood. I step forward, eyes on the Lily as my hand graces the steel of Reckless, a subtle sensation coming from the legendary Colt. It's a far cry from the burn I felt long ago when I touched a Colt with the Blooming Spider Lily on my hip. And deep down, I know she is okay with it, for it's not another Colt.
Smiling, I heave the overweight blade up, a perfect weapon for me. Unwieldy, reckless, tough as shit, but deceptively fast. The words to describe it characterizes me in the same manner.
I really need to find a way to sheathe it, though. Carrying it everywhere will ruin it over time. An idea comes to mind as I lift Reckless and drag it to the chair in the kitchen, sitting to watch the movers carry out the weapons like people moving out of a house.
Minutes pass as I watch the eight or so people move things up and down from the Vault. Silas must have been exaggerating my hurry but didn't want me to miss anything. Not that there is much to overlook. Edmund lived a simple life. His cabin might be preternatural, Ether ingrained into the wood, but there is nothing I want to take.
So, I watch the movers until I spot it. A thin but long box made of oak. After asking nicely, I take the thing from Skyseer, opening it to remove the ammunition inside to place Reckless inside. There is even a handle for me to carry it with.
Neat.
***********
Floyd Heath
My eyes shake as I wake up to complete darkness, a pale face staring at me with overflowing joy. I don't recognize the face but recall the woman's abilities. The entire carriage of the wagon has turned into a realm of darkness, the seats and curtains barely noticeable under the shadows. Immediately when I notice her, I scream at the top of my lungs, but she only smiles at my attempt to call for Silas, who should be just outside.
"Silas! Help! Johnny! Wyatt!"
The woman slides toward me, her body gliding over the darkness effortlessly as she approaches me. Her alabaster lips open to a cruel torture.
"They can't hear you, dear. I'm afraid it's just you and me. And them."
What? She's insane. I thought Johnny and Abraham were exaggerating but evidently not. I'm no fighter, but I try to resist anyway, blood curling up my fingers as I prepare a Sedative with my Ether. Yet the woman merely laughs at my attempt, threads coming from above to wrap their sharp lines around my skin to hold me still. But out of nowhere, she looks down, her body going still for a moment.
Darkstep's disheveled pale hair hangs limply around her face. At the same time, she remains still, partially obscuring her wild, glassy eyes that dart erratically. But after that moment passes, she shifts back and forth in the seat opposite mine as she speaks, muttering incoherent words to no one but herself.
"Relax! I know what I'm doing. No! They won't find out. Shut up! I've done this for decades! I was only found out because of a Power that could rewind fucking time, okay! Hey, you! Shut up before I gut you!"
Her voice carries an unsettling edge, each syllable dripping with venomous intensity. The words spill forth in a torrent, a maddening stream of threats and gibberish that intertwines with a distorted reality only she can perceive. It's as if she dances on the precipice between worlds, teetering on the edge of sanity and plunging into the abyss of her own delusions.
Some part of me wants to help her, the oath I made so long ago in Brightford coming to mind. But the other part wants to be as far away as possible. She's beyond help.
I feel a chill crawl up my spine as her gaze fixates on me, her eyes burning with an unhinged determination. She steps closer, her movements jerky and unpredictable, her voice growing louder and more menacing. It's as if the air around her crackles with invisible lightning, a volatile energy amplifying her madness.
And it's as I notice the oddity in the air I see what's wrong. Dark, shimmering motes of silver run along her pupils and fingernails as she licks her lips at me. A Motherbound... how!? Nononono!
"Johnny!"
Again, my screams meet nothing but crazed hallucination as my instincts scream at me to run, to escape the clutches of this deranged woman. Yet, her threads keep me from moving even a bit, each breath alone earning me cuts that I fight to stem the bleeding of with Stauge.
"You aren't this, Darkstep! You are a Nahullo! Not a servant of some God! Where is your pride!?"
I try to reason with her, to calm the storm brewing within her mind, but my words fall on deaf ears. She looms over me, and her face is contorted into a twisted mask of anger and desperation. She speaks in threat at me and some unseen entity. Yet, despite the danger that emanates from her presence, I cannot help but feel a pang of sympathy for the tormented soul she has become.
"You better be right about this. I don't want to stay human. Stay still!"
A spike of pain runs along every major joint in my body as the threads tighten from me yelling for help. However, the phrases from her mouth are more concerning because of how she looks at me. Under her gaze, I feel more like a sack of flesh than a human. It is unnerving, and I can't help but tremble, more screams leaving my mouth for help. I am nothing but prey to her, a small morsel with the true hunts still outside.
"Johnny! Please! Help!"
Still, nothing comes to my aid, only darker pastures. Not even the man who has always come when I called, from when he first saved me from a Skinwalker, preying on the innocent in my town, to years later when we met again, the man asking for me to help his wife with her birth. He's always been there. But... this time, he can't hear me. Darkstep's words grow more volatile, and her gestures are more frenzied, as if her existence teeters on the edge of a precipice. Finally, it becomes clear that some other force now owns her mind; the previous owner directly sent into the abyss.
"I can't! That is suicide! No! Fine! As you wish. For the Mother. Anything for her."
The half-Nahullo raises her hand, tinges of Darklight invested in her fingers. And as her palm approaches me, I, knowing what this entails, struggle.
I fight with everything I have and then some. Every fiber of my being screams in agony as the razor-like thread tightens its grip around me, cutting into my flesh with merciless precision. Each movement I make sends searing pain coursing through my body. Still, I refuse to surrender to the light of this malevolent darkness. I've seen what it does to people first in the field, second-hand in a tent, and third-hand in a lab.
As I do so, I scream with all the air left in my lungs, hoping against hope that Johnny will save me. No. He will. He always has. I'm his doctor, and he's my protector. Never before has he let me down, and I, him. Come on!
"Johnny! Help! Please!"
But all that happens is I move a few inches, the threads digging inches into my flesh and meeting bone. My blood splashes a line of dark red against the wall of shadow as I howl in pain in my strife. Then, finally, Darkstep chuckles with such fervor that I shiver, genuine terror making me pause long enough for the woman to place her finger on my head.
And as she does, everything goes white, the world turning into an alabaster wall, but still, I struggle. Again, I scream as I try to fight the wire I can no longer see, the fervent hope dwindling as the paleness invades my body, the gloaming swarming out from it to combat my own Ether. I give up on asking Johnny and plead for anyone at all.
"Please! Anyone!"
Still, no one answers.
The razor wire digs deeper, slicing through layers of muscles and into bone. Every moment spent trapped in its clutches is a battle against the relentless torment of Darkstep, the Mother Below somehow taking her into her grasp.
My mind races, searching for a solution, a path to escape, but none exist. All I can do is hope that Johnny saves me.
Again, as the white consumes my mind, the darkness my body, I cry for help, the wire splitting bone with its bite.
"Johnn--!"
*************
Wyatt Graves
Worried for the doctor, I demand speed beyond my wounds and leap directly into the wagon. And with Silas, as I temporarily ignore the pain, we open the canvas of the wagon. My heart drums in anticipation for what lies behind, some dark part of me sensing something off.
But when the canvas moves, all we see is a sleeping Heath, the man curled up into a ball on one of the seats, drool leaking from his mouth.
I breathe out a sigh of relief as I step inside, taking a spot beside the physician. Then, laughing out to Silas, I pat the man's shoulder.
"Wow. I thought something was up. Poor man. He's so exhausted."
Silas, the man who just told Heath to stop being lazy, has his gaze soften as he agrees.
"Yeah. I didn't know it was this bad. But I suppose it makes sense. The rest of us fight until we are out of Ether or until we can't move. Heath tends to us, even if he can't stand, someone wheeling him around to do so."
Johnny then steps into the carriage, the man pausing momentarily as his gaze catches on a portion of the wall. He stares with such intensity I could swear that he was looking at a lifelong enemy. But as the lady beside him trips clambering up the wagon, he turns around to help her before pulling her in.
I give him an eye as he guides Autumn in carefully, seating her across from the sleeping Heath.
"Everything fine, Johnny?"
He pauses as he sits, his eye returning to that same spot on the wall, a section directly above the unconscious Heath. But after a moment of evident confusion, he shakes his head before answering.
"Hmm... yeah... it just felt weird walking in."
I nod along with him, feeling the same thing. It must just be the long day messing with us. Even I could go for a good night's sleep. And I do.
Moving to the back of the wagon as Johnny sighs and pokes Heath to wake him up, I give the silent Autumn a smile as she stays beside the gunslinger.
"Hey... Heath? We got a survivor. I need you to wake up, man."
A fatigued groan fills the wagon as the doctor rolls over, bags in his eyes. Shaking his head, a palm covering his eyes, Heath apologizes.
"Sorry, just had a terrible nightmare."
Then, the doctor pulls the hand from his face, his sleepy and unusual gaze softening as he sees Autumn. I try to close my eyes to sleep, but something about the situation keeps me from doing so.
Instead, I watch Heath examine Autumn, the older man asking her a few questions as he reaches into his duffle bag of medicine.
"What's your name?"
Autumn replies shortly, her eyes watching the man who just woke up as she treats him like he's dirt on the road.
"Autumn."
Heath ignores how she looks at him and jokes with her as he pulls out some burn ointment. I only recognize the look of the container due to sitting in with Bonfire during his burn treatment.
"Like the season or the plant?"
"The season."
Another blunt reply as Heath shifts to doctor mode.
"Okay, then. How does your head feel, Autumn, the season? Vision jittering? Hands shaky?"
The daughter of Maddox, the Sea's Shadow, shakes her head in reply. Heath then leans in and carefully puts the burn ointment against a particularly foul burn on her shoulder.
"No? Okay. Can you feel this?"
The view rapidly becomes mundane despite the underlying concern, so I slowly sink into exhaustion, the words slurring over time as my head hangs. Despite his larger size, Dakota curls into a ball and covers my whole lap, overflowing on the seat as we both fall into slumber.
"No."
"Okay. This?"
"Ow!"
"Okay. Let me apply this, then I'll check your internals."
"What!?"
"Not like that. Your bones and organs."
"Oh..."
"You seem fine, other than a fractur... I'll have to... You'll be fine..."
***************
As promised, my night is devoted to another instead of dormant sleep. The moment I entirely fall asleep, I feel a tug on my mind, and I don't resist, allowing the Lily to take me to her dreamscape.
Again, I awake on the shores of the Cardinal, the Othershore Flower all around me. The Lily sits beside me, pulling a single flower up as she stares at it curiously. I steal a gander at it, but the face is obscured as if hidden from some force. Hmm?
"I thought you could see the faces of those who died? Who's flower is this?"
The Lily shrugs, her petite form lying down as she sighs, the red spider lily revolving in her fingers.
"Dunno. Someone died. Dunno who. It's weird. I couldn't even take the soul. It's like... someone else took it... no, devoured it."
Hmm... Odd. An idea blooms as I think of the Motherbound I killed.
"Was it when I killed the Motherbound?"
She shakes her head, her red eyes blinking confusedly.
"No."
Again, I try, Geoffry, coming to mind.
"The man after? Geoffry?"
The Lily shakes her head again, her dark hair sliding against the grass of the bank.
"No. I got him. The others never even showed up in my aura. It's annoying. You think you can figure it out for me?"
I nod, not seeing why I shouldn't.
"Yeah, sure. Might take me a bit as I'm no investigator or arbiter, but I'll reason it out for you."
She smiles as she sits up, the flower falling to her side. But as she stares at me, unblinking with those crimson eyes, her grin shifts to a frown.
"Thank you! And call me Lily! I heard you call me 'the Lily'. It hurt! I'm not just an object, y'know! I'm your friend!"
Feeling a tad guilty, awkward, and embarrassed about future conversations, I agree with her demand.
"Of course! I didn't mean to upset you, Lily."
She grins again, revealing her pointed teeth that set me off the edge for some reason. I don't know why. They just remind me of something I can't quite name.
So while not trying to be rude, I mention them.
"Why are your teeth pointy, Lily? They seem built for predators, not people."
The spirit of the Blooming Spider Lily giggles, her laugh echoing down the endless river of shade.
"Haha! You're funny! Of course, they're like a predator's teeth! Your father built them based on his!"
"Huh?"
Unable to appropriately respond, I only eke out an uncertain response, and Lily continues.
"Yeah! Killian has real sharp teeth! I once saw him bite open a demon's throat! Though, I don't think they're his original teeth. They're way too dark to be human teeth. I think he got the from a demon or something."
"A demon?"
Again, I can barely respond, the shock of my father replacing teeth uncanny. But Lily just nods as if it's completely normal.
"Yeah, a demon... aw... we're out of time. I spent too long setting up the connection. At least we'll have more time next time!"
Wh--
Colors shift, the omniscient darkness of the river collapsing my vision as it feels like I fall back asleep.
***************
Scraping rock and sand wake me up from my sleep, light piercing through a gap in the canvas of the wagon. The head of Silas peeks through, his flaming eye sockets flaring toward me.
"We're at the cabin, Wyatt. If you want anything, hop out and be quick."
What?! We're here already?
I bolt up and notice that I'm the only one still in the medical wagon; Heath, Autumn, and Johnny are all gone. Even Bonfire isn't in here right now. Apologizing to Dakota, I drag myself out of the wagon, Dakota stretching before following me.
Silas is right. The wagon is stationed just some feet from Edmund's cabin as people, both Bado and human, lug boxes of weapons and ammo out of the home. Silas taps me forward, his hands inviting me toward the house.
"Go on. We can only get into it because of you. Once the door was open, anyone could walk in. We didn't have to be careful earlier, after all. Take whatever you want. Oh, and your Claymore is against the doorway on the inside. Only Frank could pick it up, you freak."
The undead ends with an insult, but I know he means it with kindness, his tone evident. And so, I shrug off his hand with a laugh as I move toward the cabin, keeping out of the way of the men carrying the weapons.
Slipping inside, I give Frank and Skysight, a 4th Sigiled Bado, a warm smile. Yesterday, we almost all died, but this... two hours past noon, is a new day. Damn, I slept a long time.
Once I'm inside, I shake the time off my pocketwatch before putting it back inside, my focus turning to the form of Reckless. The blade that has been a pain to lug around sits against the wall, a slight indent from its weight into the cabin's wood. I step forward, eyes on the Lily as my hand graces the steel of Reckless, a subtle sensation coming from the legendary Colt. It's a far cry from the burn I felt long ago when I touched a Colt with the Blooming Spider Lily on my hip. And deep down, I know she is okay with it, for it's not another Colt.
Smiling, I heave the overweight blade up, a perfect weapon for me. Unwieldy, reckless, tough as shit, but deceptively fast. The words to describe it characterizes me in the same manner.
I really need to find a way to sheathe it, though. Carrying it everywhere will ruin it over time. An idea comes to mind as I lift Reckless and drag it to the chair in the kitchen, sitting to watch the movers carry out the weapons like people moving out of a house.
Minutes pass as I watch the eight or so people move things up and down from the Vault. Silas must have been exaggerating my hurry but didn't want me to miss anything. Not that there is much to overlook. Edmund lived a simple life. His cabin might be preternatural, Ether ingrained into the wood, but there is nothing I want to take.
So, I watch the movers until I spot it. A thin but long box made of oak. After asking nicely, I take the thing from Skyseer, opening it to remove the ammunition inside to place Reckless inside. There is even a handle for me to carry it with.
Neat.
