He ran through the dark.
Not across stone or soil. There was no ground here. Only the outline of a path. Each step he took would cause his feet to sink in viscous darkness that almost had him sink in, yet he stumbled and got up again.
Around him were thrones with no kings. Cradles with no children, and chandeliers made from bones, fallen to the ground, broken.
His feet were no longer able to move any further. His top hat fell to the ground, slowly sinking into the darkness.
In order to keep moving, he had to use every ounce of his own consistency. Causing his body to burn out into tiny threads of light. His legs peeled into ribbons of smoke, along with the edges of his clothes.
Still… He ran.
At the center of all this chaos, she waited. Hanging into the darkness helplessly.
It is because of her, he was there, running and unraveling.
She was suspended by long strands of shadow that slithered up from the floor, coiling around her wrists, her waist, her throat. They moved when she didn't, breathing in her place.
Her head hung low while her hair drifted down her face. Her eyes seemed to have given up a long time ago, until she heard his voice, panting and running. Her eyes lit up, yet she ached as she saw him get nearer, and the closer he got, the more he was losing himself.
It was the void—it was herself being the core of this darkness that she lost control of. Now, this darkness was breaking him.
He reached her.
"I got you now…!" His arms were barely holding up, yet he grabbed the chains with his hands, and he could feel them piercing through his own flesh, but that didn't stop him.
❝Rowel…go back!❞ She shouted, trying to break through because she knew, his presence in this place would be his end.
Every tug burned through what little remained of him, his fingers gone, palms barely there, unraveling and burning.
The chains howled, as the void began to shift again. Suddenly, his wrists were restrained by shadowy chains from behind, his torso and neck followed. Similar to her.
"C..come on!" With the remaining four fingers on one of his hands he pulled the chain around one of her hands completely breaking it away, releasing her hand.
The darkness began to drag him away slowly, engulfing his form, now suspending him right before her.
❝Let him out!!❞
"Ravenne!" Suddenly, with one last resort, a card clad in light ejects itself from his forehead, levitating straight between his last two fingers, his thumb and index. With a precise throw, the card strikes the chains on her other arm.
That card was the last string of his being, and now his consistency was dispersing.
She struggles even further, and with her free hands, breaking the remaining chains around her, dispersing them into the void. She ran to him, with her face in disarray.
It was already too late for him, and she knew it but never wanted to accept it.
His knees were both now into the darkness, the last of his limbs gave way, and his torso, and half of his face were all that remained.
She caught him.
Clumsily. Desperately. As if her own form had forgotten how to hold something not meant to vanish, and that was him.
"Sorry sweetheart… but I'm all hearts, no hugs now I'm afraid…" He smirked, with a soft laughter. She tried to break him free but it was of no use. She was tearing up, silently. She didn't cry, but her face had all the desperation one could have in this situation.
"Ravenne, at least don't give me that face. I was never used to you crying you know—"
❝You made me like this…!❞ As soon as she realized that only bit of him was left, she stopped, and just… stared at him.
The void around them was trembling.
She held him tight, with his head in her chest. Trying to forget the fact that this is her fault he got himself here, but that was the worst part. She tried to comfort him, as if her pleas sounded like a hum.
And then… she spoke again. This time, with tenderness, that eased his pain.
❝Even if the dark eats the stars,❞ she murmured, voice like frost on velvet, ❝even if you forget your name, or mine—❞
She leaned in, just enough that her breath touched his cheek, ❝—I will find you.❞
A pause.
"You are not allowed to be lost."
She looked down at him. He was already fading, but she raised her hand delicately, as if not to disturb him. Placing her palm over his forehead.
She was saying something but he couldn't hear it, and she seemed desperate with her expressions as she spoke, until he blacked out.
And in the void, he was gone.
Then behind her—the void cracked. She saw the card on the ground, the one he used to free her. Still glowing.
She picked it up. And suddenly her eyes dilated, causing a ripple in the void.
Light spilled in, not gold or white, but colors that had never touched mortal eyes, a blend too hard to comprehend.
It looked like a corridor opened sideways. A path made of rippling folds of time and light, as each layer brushed against the next like silk.
It stretched forever, endlessly. She stood before it, clutching the card in her hand, before throwing it into the corridor.
Everything goes dark, and the entire scene shifts where the line between dream and reality becomes distorted.
No memories of such events ever seem to remain, and all is lost, but one last card.
In a different reality.
In a city smelled that like old ink and wet brick. It stretched tall and narrow, like someone tried to build cathedrals out of smoke and then forgot to stop.
Chimneys puffed smoke, windows blinked like tired eyes. The streets gleamed with damp cobblestone, reflecting gas lamps.
Rowel adjusted his top hat. It didn't help.
He had chased a child here. Or rather, a sound—low, humming, familiar. A lull he'd followed across various worlds realms.
The hum always vanished just when he got close. This time, it came from a boy skipping through the crowd like he knew Rowel was looking for him.
Rowel had followed.
Then, lost him.
Now he was somewhere between an alley and a foggy regret, staring at a sweet potato cart.
The vendor was ancient. Possibly fossilized. His mustache had seen wars from how messy it seemed. His apron said, "Hot Roasted Wonders!" in letters that had given up trying.
"Excuse me, gramps, have you seen a child run through here—" Rowel started.
The man perked up immediately, lifting a steaming potato like a prize. "One or two, lad?"
"No… No, gramps, I don't want any potatoes, please—alright, let's start from the beginning." He took a breath, crouched slightly for dramatic effect, and waved his hand theatrically, figuring out that the man didn't have the best hearing ever.
"Haaaave yoooou seeeeen a chiiiiild… this tall?" He raised his hand to about waist height.
The old man squinted. Then laughed.
"Oh! Young man, nobody's ever planted a sweet potato that big yet!"
Rowel blinked.
"…That's not what I—" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Okay. Listen carefully. Child. Humming. Ran this way. Does any of that ring a bell?"
The vendor leaned in, nodded solemnly, then placed a steaming potato directly into Rowel's palm.
"On the house. You sound unwell!" He gave Rowel a steaming sweet potato wrapped in paper, with a worried expression on his face.
"…Fine." Rowel bit into the potato. Scalded his mouth. Chewed through the pain.
"Perfect. Burning starch. Exactly what I needed to chase after kids—wait… that sounded wrong..."
He wandered off, still chewing. The old man waved after him.
"Careful with the big potatoes!"
Rowel raised the potato in salute. Not in thanks. In surrender.
"You win, gramps, you win…" A single tear rolled down his cheek in a dramatic display.
The alley narrowed. The light from the lamppost faded and the world became… quieter.
And then he saw it.
Not a door. Not exactly. A shape in space. Like someone had sliced reality with a blade that wasn't kind. It pulsed faintly slow, deliberate. Like it was thinking about breathing.
He stopped.
Wiped his mouth.
"This is stupid," he said to no one. Because he remembers not conjuring it. For only he can use such magic.
He stepped forward.
The door waited.