Chapter Text
Get out.
Get out. Get out.
Get out. Get out. Get out.
The cracked glass shattered, a violent explosion of fragments scattering across the floor as a torrent of fluid gushed from the rejuvenation tank, flooding the surrounding area and soaking all of the machinery in its path.
Anne landed hard on her hands and knees, feeling the cold fluid rush past her, spreading out like a living thing.
Her chest heaved, and her back arched as she stared down into the reflective puddle beneath her, catching a glimpse of her disheveled appearance.
Her hair, a brilliant blue, floated in the air around her like a halo, burning like wildfire with twigs and leaves protruding from it. Her eyes mirrored the same cerulean hue, glowing with a fierce intensity. A mask covered her face, making it hard to breathe, and she instinctively clawed at it with shaky hands.
With a sudden burst of effort, she ripped the mask from her face, sending it clattering to the ground amidst the fluid, creating ripples that distorted her reflection.
Where was she? How did she get here?
What are you doing? a voice demanded from inside her head—one that wasn’t her own.
She didn’t know how to answer.
What was she doing?
All she knew was that she needed to escape.
GET OUT.
In a frantic attempt to free herself from whatever nightmare she was trapped in, she climbed to her feet, wobbling unsteadily before collapsing back onto the ground, her hands and knees sinking into the strange fluid again.
Whether she fell due to the liquid’s slippery surface or simply because her legs wouldn’t support her weight, she couldn’t tell.
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed a voice she didn’t recognize.
Suddenly, two sets of hands were on her, prodding and checking her for something.
Anne shivered from the unexpected touch.
Words were being said—directed at her—but she couldn’t make out their meaning.
A towel of sorts was draped over her shoulders, and instinctively, her hands gripped the fabric tightly.
Finally gathering the courage to look up her… captors? No. No, they weren’t her captors. She found herself staring at two newts—Lady Olivia and the Newtopian General. Oddly enough, she didn’t recall the General’s name, but the sight of them sparked a flicker of recognition.
They weren’t her captors, but her… rescuers?
They gazed down at her, concern etched on their faces as their lips moved in an almost frantic manner. Olivia seemed more worried than the General, but both wore expressions of urgency.
Though, Anne still can’t understand them.
At some point, the two newts realized that their plan wasn’t working, so they settled on either side of the human and lifted her up by the shoulder, the General crouching down to accommodate Olivia's size.
Almost immediately, Anne struggled against them, urging them to let her go. She didn’t want to be saved! Or did she? Wasn’t that what she had been trying to do? She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t want to be in the hands of these two.
They worked for the king, and last she checked, she hated the king!
After a frantic bout of struggling, thrashing back and forth, and even whacking the General in the head, they finally relented and set her down, backing away to reassess their strategy.
Anne sat up, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and caution. What were they planning?
Olivia began to pace, the fluid beneath her long dress soaking into the fabric. Anne’s heart raced; she needed to get out of here and find Sasha.
Sasha?
Why was she thinking of Sasha? Wasn’t she mad at her? Infuriated and upset? Why did her mind automatically drift to her friend-not-friend?
Her brows furrowed deeply as she stared at the ground, lost in confusion.
Stay, the voice in her head—the voices—whispered, pleading for her compliance. Maybe then you’ll find what you’re looking for.
But first, you must get rid of them, they added, drawing out the words with a near sinister delight.
Anne’s head slowly lifted to gaze at the two newts, now talking to each other, frustration evident in their movements.
Them?
Yes, yes! the voices chanted, Get rid of them! They aren’t here to help you, but to distract you from your true mission.
‘True mission?’ Anne thought, bewildered.
Her mission was to go home, wasn’t it? Was that not what she had been hoping for ever since she arrived in Amphibia?
Yes… Your true mission is to retake control of this world! Take control of countless worlds—make it so nobody can hurt you ever again, the voices promised. And we… we can help you if you so desire.
It was a tantalizing offer, one that resonated with her deepest desires. Ever since she had come to Amphibia, she had been betrayed by those she trusted most. If she could create a perfect world where no one would get hurt, perhaps it would all be worth it.
Of course, the voices encouraged, But before that, you must get rid of them.
Anne shifted and rose to her feet, her hair still glowing cerulean blue. She staggered and stumbled, but managed to keep herself upright.
The newts hadn’t noticed her movements yet.
She glanced at her hands—power coursed through her body, building with every heartbeat.
Do it, the voices beckoned, Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.
The chant grew louder and faster, drowning out her own thoughts until the voices became the only sound she could hear.
Do it.
Power began to gather in her hands as she locked her gaze on the newts, then aimed her palm toward them.
Do it.
The crackling energy caught their attention, and they turned, shocked and confused.
Do it.
The General mouthed “Human?”
While Lady Olivia gasped, “Anne?”
In a sudden burst of bright blue light, the two newts were knocked out cold, sent sprawling back as the energy surged from her hands.
When the light dimmed, the voices quieted, leaving her in a heavy silence as she stared at their still forms on the floor.
“They… they’re not… dead, are they?” Anne whispered, her voice trembling in the stillness. She pressed her hand to her dark armored chest, fear gnawing at her insides.
Not dead, the voices, thankfully, confirmed, and a wave of relief washed over her.
Anne allowed her tense body to relax, grateful she wouldn’t have to grapple with the burden of taking lives. Yet, she felt her powers begin to dissipate, making her feel weak, but she could manage.
Suddenly, a loud, grating whirring sound erupted behind her, drawing her attention. She turned to see a dark, coral throne rising from the mysterious depths where the broken tank had been.
“What… is that?” she wondered, taking a cautious step forward.
Your prerogative, dear, the voices chimed, their tone almost sweetened with anticipation.
“My what?” Anne questioned, her brows furrowing as she stared blankly at the throne.
Your right. It is yours to claim, they divulged.
“Oh,” Anne uttered, realization beginning to dawn on her. “So, do I just…?” She pointed at the throne, uncertainty lacing her voice.
By all means, the voices encouraged, almost like they were giving her a nudge in the right direction.
Slowly, Anne approached the steps leading up to the throne, marveling at the intricate coral formations that twisted and spiraled.
She climbed the steps, her hand trailing along the railing, until she reached the top. For a moment, she hesitated, doubts creeping into her mind.
Did she really want this?
You want a perfect world, don’t you? the voices coaxed, their insistence wrapping around her like a comforting shroud.
She did.
Anne settled down onto the throne, looking down at the ground below. It felt… weird. Being up here, anyway. It was like there was something swimming in her chest, creating waves that splashed inside her stomach.
Suddenly, loud snapping sounds caught her attention. Anne’s eyes widened as she realized her hands were now chained to the armrests of the throne. Panic surged through her as another snap echoed, binding her legs in place as well.
“What? What is this?!” she demanded, struggling against the restraints, her eyes flickering between blue and brown. “What are you doing?!” Anne hissed.
This was just another trick! The voices weren’t intending to help her at all; Ugh! She’s so naive. Of course they’re evil!
Those foolish sinners you care for and show those countless fragile cracks in your heart to the point of breaking… Yet we’re the evil ones? the voices taunted, their tone dripping with mockery.
Anne glanced away, biting her tongue as shame washed over her.
You delude yourself in a poisoned belief that regardless of whatever path you choose, your friends and family will always find you… And where are they now? the voices continued.
Anne swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the armrest.
She didn’t know.
Or maybe she didn’t remember.
The last thing she could recall was Marcy’s terrified face, the Plantars’ concern, before she looked down to see a burning blade piercing through her chest.
Your broken heart has led you to us, they intoned, attempting to soothe her. Now, we will mend together the pieces of whatever’s left, they said, their tone almost tender.
More whirring filled the air, and Anne looked up to see a helmet descending toward her head. Panic surged as she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain she knew was coming.
The whirring grew louder, the clamor echoing in her mind, and as the helmet locked into place, wires shot into her arms and legs, sending jolts of agony through her body.
She let out a deafening scream, the sound echoing through the chamber as the darkness closed in around her.