Chapter Text
Malcolm spent hours lying in the dark, feeling every bone in his body ache. His back was on fire, so stiff every movement made his joints flare. The healing scabs were itchy and uncomfortable. It was agonizing being awake, time crawling by like a leisurely sloth as the drip-drip-drip of the pipes echoed in his head.
Malcolm couldn’t bear to sleep and hear Chef and the other spirits tell him all the things he’d done wrong, again. Only pain awaited him in the Fade, so he laid in the dark until his mind burned with exhaustion and his only thoughts were of Leandra.
He wondered if she was currently lying in that other man’s arms. Wondered if that man was tasting the sweetness of her lips. Was she sighing his name? Was he making her moan? Had she already moved on, leaving Malcolm forever a record skipping on the same beat.
The thoughts burned, burned Malcolm more than his bone-bruised body, bled Malcolm more than the lesions on his seeping skin. He couldn’t bear the idea of Leandra moving on. Deep-seated hate twisted his heart as he fantasized about all the ways he would destroy his rival.
Malcolm fingered Leandra’s ribbon on his wrist, his only source of comfort in this torture. For the first time in his life, he found himself praying to the Maker. To give him one more chance to make it up to Leandra. To somehow bring her back into his arms where she belonged. He clung to that hope like a drowning man, begging the Maker for Mercy.
But the fire lancing Malcolm's back reminded him how sadistic the Maker’s cruelty was. Was He having a good chuckle at Malcolm’s misery? Was He chuckling at everyone else's misery, too?
The stone walls of the cell echoed with his cellmates' crying, and every once in a while he heard an agonizing scream, like someone was dying. Malcolm tried not to think about what was happening to them. Part of him wanted to weep himself, to bawl until he was hoarse, but he did none of that. He just listened quietly in the dark, until finally hours later sleep claimed his frayed mind.
The flower forest was dark, cloaked in shadow, the flowers drooping to the ground. The clouds hid the sky, stormy and flickering with lightning.
Malcolm realized he was still lying on the ground, his body too sore to move. Compassion held his head in her lap, stroking his curls like his mother used to.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, brushing his bangs from his forehead. “That should not have happened to you.”
The dam broke at last. All the rage, all the agony, all the pain came bursting out at once, like Compassion was drawing pus from an infected wound. Before Malcolm could stop himself, tears erupted from his throat and he clung to her skirt and sobbed until his throat was raw. She stroked his back, humming his mother’s lullaby, healing the aches he was still feeling from his bone-deep bruises. Soothing energy ran through his body, cooling his burning aches until it felt like his body had been bathed in a pleasantly cool pond.
Honesty, Kindness, and Chef surrounded Malcolm, harmonizing with Compassion soothingly. They stayed like that for a long time letting Malcolm empty his sorrows, saying nothing.
It felt like hours had passed, before Malcolm finally grew tired of crying.
No longer blinded by tears, he was heartened to see Honesty had grown. They were about the size of a child, their golden hair feathery and fluffy. Their nose was beaky and their eyes as wide as saucers, very owl-like.
But that triumph was soon dashed when Malcolm saw Kindness sitting on Honesty’s shoulder, looking tired and sleepy. Their pink baby form could barely hold itself up, their light fading.
Malcolm sighed raggedly as he sat himself up, wiping his wet face. “I guess I fucked up, again.”
“Indeed, you did.” Chef placed a bowl of piping hot pancet into Malcolm’s lap. “But that can wait. Now, eat. You’re very hurt.”
Malcolm didn’t have to be told twice. He scooped some noodles with his fingers and spooned them into his mouth. Immediately the meaty savory unending flavour regenerated his energy, and suddenly he was brought back to a memory of his mother.
Malcolm had been playing video games since his dad was working the late shift, a small miracle. His mother rarely let him indulge in games for too long. Most of his spare time was spent studying for college, which was still at least a good decade away.
“Malcolm, dinner’s ready. Come eat!” His mother called from the kitchen.
Malcolm’s eyes stayed glued to the TV, trying to get the plumber man into the next tunnel before the time ran out. “Just a minute, Mamae. This level’s almost done.”
“Five minutes, but then your food will get cold and it won’t taste good so don’t dawdle.”
Malcolm’s fingers moved like lightning, trying to beat the level within his mother’s time constraint, slaying knights with fireballs and bouncing on wyverns and dragons for their golden coins. Only a minute later, the plumber man had emerged from the underground tunnel and Malcolm got him past the flag. Malcolm threw the controller in the air, hooting in victory.
From the kitchen, his mother laughed, like water babbling over a brook. “That was fast. I take it you won?”
“Fuck yeah, I dominated! Told you I’d only need a minute!”
His mother sighed in exasperation. “Malcolm, what did I tell you about that foul language? The Maker can hear you.”
Malcolm’s shoulders rose to his pointed ears, knowing that he might be grounded for that. “Sorry, Mamae. It just came out.” He turned back towards the kitchen and froze, stunned that for the first time in almost a decade, his mother’s face was as clear as a sunny day.
Malcolm thought he looked a lot like his father. Everyone told him so, but now that the memory was so clear, it was apparent just how much he took after his mother. His father’s curls were tighter, closer to coils, unlike the curls he shared with his mother, loose open spirals that cascaded down her shoulders in fluffy waves. His father’s golden eyes were more like hard metal, unlike the soft honey color his mother had given him. And while his father had creased droopy eyes that always looked disappointed, both his mother and he shared with his mother were more angular and crinkled up into playful half moons when they smiled. His mother’s smooth dark brown skin was free of freckles or moles, but Malcolm realized he had her lips and the shape of her ears too. Even their laugh was similar.
Malcolm teared up as the child version of him scooted eagerly towards their cramped dinner table. His mother ruffled his loose curls and kissed his forehead. “Happy Birthday, Malcolm. I’m sorry it isn’t much.”
Malcolm’s baby face grinned eagerly through a mouthful of noodles. “Naw, Mamae. It’s perfect.”
Then the memory disappeared, like sand being blown away by a gust.
Malcolm quietly spooned bite after bite with his hand, the memory of his mother’s face filling him with peace.
Chef sat across from him. “After a lot of experimentation, I managed to clean up the memory. Use it when you need it.”
Malcolm nodded, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t know how to thank Chef, so he just kept eating, hoping Chef knew how grateful he was.
Chef cupped his hands and summoned a bowl of ramen. “Now that you’re more stable, you must fix what you’ve done.”
Compassion snapped her head at Chef, a scowl on her face. “It’s not the time to push the Somniari. He’s at his limit.”
Chef pointed with his chopsticks, a piece of egg attached. “Do we have a choice? Kindness is almost dead again and, without Love’s lands, Zelophehad’s domain grows.”
Compassion’s face twisted in a snarl. “Do you think I do not mourn Love’s loss? But if we break the Somniari, Zelophehad wins anyways. Now is not the time. Be patient.”
Malcolm wiped his face, blinking away the rest of his tears as he listened to the conversation. “Wait. What? What did I do now?”
Chef gobbled up the egg and stuffed more noodles into his mouth. As he ate he said, “Your actions in the waking world corrupted your most powerful Guardian Spirit. Love has turned into Possession, and now she is a pawn of Zelophehad. I do not want to scold you when you’re already hurt, Somniari, but this is a very ill omen.”
Malcolm's fingers scooped up the rest of the noodles, slurping them down and then he tipped the bowl into his mouth and drank the rest of the sauce, needing every comfort the memory had to offer. Then wiping his wet hand on his shirt, he stood up. “Alright, Chef. Tell me what to do.”
Chef took his chopsticks and tapped Malcolm’s heart. “You need to go into the heart of Possession’s territory and cleanse her and yourself of your tainted emotions.”
Compassion rose, her face contorted with worry. “Somniari, no.” She took Malcolm’s hand. “It is not a failing to admit one’s limits. Love still lives as Possession. You can still heal her in time, but not when you are not healed yourself.”
Malcolm snapped his hand back. “I’m fine. I can do it.” Malcolm rolled his shoulders, still feeling the stiffness of the skin on his back. “Besides, what choice do I have? Zelophehad is targeting me in the real world. I’m running out of time. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
Compassion folded her hands together, pleading. “You can choose to love yourself first. That act alone will preserve you when all else is lost.”
Malcolm gritted his teeth. Love himself? That seemed like stupid advice. What she was asking was impossible.
Malcolm avoided Compassion’s imploring gaze and turned back to Chef. “Take me to Possession.”
Chef nodded, summoning a bright purple door. “Right away, Somniari.”
Compassion’s shoulders dropped.
Malcolm walked up to the door when Compassion’s hand stopped him on the shoulder. “Wait,” her azure eyes were burning, her blue lips in a thin line. Her voluminous open curls were billowing in a breeze that wasn’t there, as a crystal tear fell down her cheek.
Malcolm snapped his head in a glare. “You can’t stop me.”
Compassion turned a shade of green but she swallowed down her gag. “I am not stopping you.” She wiped her tear and placed the crystal drop over his heart. Malcolm felt something inside him unlock. He was suddenly connected to her, feeling her life-giving magic adding to his own. Suddenly all the pain he was still feeling was gone, his mind more awake and burning with energy, his senses heightened and more alert. His hands sparked, feeling like an overcharged battery.
Malcolm stared at his hands glowing with blue light. “What did you do?”
Compassion touched his cheek, and he could feel a maternal love radiating from her. “I have Bonded with you. It will protect you from Zelophehad’s possession. Now you can use my strength, no matter how far apart we are. We are connected, no matter what separates us.”
Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking a big risk Bonding with me. I thought I would corrupt you.”
Compassion smiled and cupped his cheek. “You have grown a lot, Somniari. If you insist on risking yourself, it only seems right I risk myself, too.” With gentle hands, she placed her hands on his shoulders and turned him back towards the door. “Remember you control the Fade. Zelophehad will try to alter your path, but just follow Chef’s guidance. Do not be seduced by the darkness of your thoughts.” She gently pushed him forward. “I will stay behind and guard Kindness’ lands. If you need aid at any time, reach into your heart and I will come.”
Malcolm nodded, solemnly, his limbs locking for a fight, but he forced himself to set down his hostility and think only of the peace of his mother’s face.
With trembling fingers, he opened the door and saw swirling darkness, almost like a galaxy. There was a malevolent energy seeping from the portal, sucking out all life.
Chef shivered and slurped down some more noodles. “Alright, stick close, and don’t get distracted.”
Chef stepped through the portal and Malcolm gritted his teeth, following close behind.
Stepping through the portal was like stepping through a vat of static electricity. Malcolm could feel all his hair stand on end.
Exiting to the other side, Malcolm found himself on the edge of a stormy shore, the sky swirling into the sea in a big whirlpool, draining to the bottom of an endless chasm. Rain pelted Malcolm in hard bullets, blinding his vision. The green clouds in the sky rumbled with lightning that shot down, making glass from the sand.
Malcolm looked around for Chef, but couldn’t see him anywhere. Malcolm tried not to panic, but he could feel the edges of his calm fraying as the waves crashed into his legs and started pulling him in with the tide.
Malcolm stumbled, his footing uneasy and shaky. He managed to catch himself and backed further towards the shore, but he found he was on an island and there was nowhere to retreat to. He was quickly soaked and freezing cold, the sand’s shards digging in between his toes.
Malcolm’s breathing was getting heavy as he shivered. The waves threatened to bowl him over. “Chef! Where are you?” he called out, his eyes darting around for the angry red figure.
“A slight miscalculation on my part,” Chef’s voice rang in his head. “Possession has separated us physically, but do not panic, I am close. I can still guide you from where I am.” A light started to glimmer on the distant and stormy horizon. “Just keep going. I’ll follow your trail.”
That was easier said than done. Without Chef there to physically ground him, Malcolm felt like he was quickly sinking, his thoughts spiraling.
“Breathe, Somniari. Focus. Shape the Fade. Don’t let it shape you,” Chef’s sharp voice brought him back, and Malcolm snapped his spine straight.
Malcolm steeled himself, connecting his mind to the Fade. He could feel the Fade resisting him, being pulled to the call of a different master. Malcolm knew it would be a battle of wills. “Show me the way,” he demanded.
The island suddenly started stretching out before his feet, creating a sandy bridge over the stormy waters. The rain made it hard to see too far ahead. The bridge looked fragile, sand dripping from it and disappearing into the churning waters below.
Malcolm walked slowly forward, high waves lapping at his feet, making his steps unsteady. The roar of the rain and waves was deafening and he could hardly hear himself think.
Soon the bridge started branching off into different directions, and Malcolm wasn’t sure which was the right path forward. Some of the paths winded upwards into the heavens, connecting to islands in the sky. Other paths snaked off in random directions as far as the horizon stretched. More paths led to the murky depths below, following the curve of the whirlpool. Malcolm looked behind him and the bridge was collapsing, blocking his way back, so he was stranded on a strip of land floating in midair.
Malcolm chose the most direct path forward, still following the light on the horizon, unsure he wasn't walking into a trap. The bridge stretched on and on, forming as he walked, and soon he was over the draining whirlpool. A terrifying thought occurred to him about how flimsy this bridge was and just how easily he could fall in.
It only took one moment of panic for the bridge to collapse from under him. He fell freely, screaming into the void. His mother’s smiling face flashed before his eyes, and he reached out to the Fade connecting with it. With a sharp snap of his spine, he convinced himself there was ground beneath his feet, and the Fade responded to him by catching him again before he fell into the chasm.
He was now stranded on a bridge that connected to nothing.
Malcolm’s bangs were stuck to his slick forehead, falling into his eyes and temporarily blinding him. He looked above him at all the branching paths, trying to get a sense of where to go, but his intuition was giving him nothing. “Chef!” he called out. “I’m lost.”
“You are only lost if you let yourself be,” Chef reminded him. “The Fade responds to your intention. If you seek to find Possession, then she cannot hide from you.”
A rogue wave broke off from the whirlpool and swept across the bridge and pelted Malcolm, knocking him off his feet. Something in the water wrapped around his foot and started dragging him down. He reached out with his hands, his fingers making grooves in the sand as he was dragged along.
“You wanted to find me?” a bloodthirsty feminine voice echoed from the depths of the whirlpool.
“Somniari,” Chef called out. “Take control!”
But before Malcolm could, he was pulled into the whirlpool. His body tumbled freely through the water. Malcolm’s fingers grasped for purchase, trying to find some way to catch himself, but something pulled his head under. Freezing water filled his lungs, shocking his body with ice cold needles. He gagged, flailing, unable to take in a life-giving breath. He could feel the darkness surrounding him, and his chest burned. Bubbles fell from his nose and mouth as he silently screamed.
The waves battered him as he struggled to keep his wits. He needed to calm down and breathe again, but water kept choking him. He tried to remind himself that this was the Fade, he was dreaming, but the churning waters felt so real his mind couldn’t tell the difference.
He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and the pain helped clear some of the panic in his mind. Reaching out with a hand, he called to the Fade, and a rope wrapped around his wrist and started pulling him out. But the waters were vicious, still threatening to pull him under.
Malcolm gritted his teeth, pulling hand over hand as he yanked himself out of the water. Finally, he broke the surface and swung out into the middle of the whirlpool, dangling from a rope that reached into the sky, tethered to nothing. He shivered violently as heavy water weighed down his clothes. The darkness of the chasm below him was filled as Zelophehad's goat eyes opened.
“How kind of you to offer yourself to me.”
Malcolm steeled himself from the panic that was threatening to overtake him. He almost slipped, the rain making it difficult to retain his grip on the rope, but he managed to hold on. “You can’t do shit to me if I don’t fight you.”
Zelophehad’s goat eyes swirled in delight as more tentacles reached up from the chasm and wrapped around Malcolm’s body, ripping away his fragile hold on the rope and seizing him midair. “I may not be able to hurt you directly, but I am not alone, am I?”
A dark purple Spirit with long flowing hair, jagged scales, and a long shark tail parted the whirlpool like a curtain, riding a swirling stream of water. W ith a razor-toothed smile, s he pointed a jagged harpoon at Malcolm.
“So kind of you to corrupt her. I’d say you’re doing my job for me,” Zelophehad’s cruel mocking laugh rang in Malcolm’s ears as his tentacles squeezed and strangled him.
Possession laughed and threw the harpoon. It whizzed through the air, darting straight for Malcolm’s heart.
Malcolm cried out for help, his eyes shutting closed as he flinched for the final blow.
He heard a sharp clang, metal hitting metal, and Malcolm opened his eyes to see that Chef had knocked the harpoon’s trajectory with an overly large spatula. He then turned around and shoved a cookie in Malcolm’s gaping mouth.
“Focus, Somniari!”
Malcolm could hear the memory of Charlie’s mischievous laughter in his ears as he chewed and swallowed the chocolate chip cookie, crumbs flecking out his full mouth. Remembering his friend’s opportunistic theft from the Circle’s kitchen leeched the fear from Malcolm’s bones.
Zelophehad’s tentacles loosened as Malcolm regained his senses. “Free me!” Malcolm reached out for the Fade, and it responded to his call with a blinding white light that parted the storming clouds. As the light fell on Zelophehad’s black inky tentacles, the appendages shriveled and smoked.
Zelophehad screeched and let Malcolm go and Malcolm was left free-falling back into the whirlpool’s chasm.
As Malcolm plummeted, his fingers combed the air, pulling matter together below him. A cloud solidified and caught him mid-air in a floof, before he could plummet into the spiked rocks below.
“Well done, Somniari.” Chef was locked in battle with Possession, parrying her harpoon expertly. “Forget Zelophehad. He cannot harm you if you do not let him. Focus on cleansing Possession!”
The light continued to shine brightly, keeping Zelophehad’s tentacles from leaving the chasm.
But Possession seemed unaffected by the light in her own realm. She laughed, a warped shrill sound that chilled Malcolm. “And how will he do that? Even now, I can feel the possession in the Somniari’s heart. He cannot cleanse me.”
Chef turned to Malcolm, his sharp teeth snarling. “Do not listen to her. You can!”
Malcolm stood up on his feet shakily. He could see Zelophehad’s tentacles writhing in the water, his large goat eyes fixated on Malcolm in interest.
Malcolm reached out his hands, the strings connecting the Fade flowing from his fingers like harp threads. He could sense this whole realm belonged to Possession, and the corruption ran deep into the core of this place. Malcolm roped the Fade strings around Possession’s wrists, holding her fast and keeping her from attacking Chef.
Immediately he felt connected with Possession, could feel her sickening hold on his heart. She thrashed her tail as Malcolm lassoed her closer to him.
Possession smirked cruelly, not fighting against her restraints. “You think yourself so different from your father, but you both hold the same Possession in your heart.”
“She will try to plant doubt. Hold strong!” Chef cried.
Malcolm’s lips curled into a scowl as he narrowed his eyes at the fish Spirit. “You know nothing about me.”
Possession smiled with razor teeth and snapped a taloned finger.
Behind Possession mirages of Malcolm and his father stood on opposite sides of her.
Malcolm’s father grabbed a fistful of his mother’s curls, snarling viciously as he yanked her hair back. “You think you can just run off and fuck whoever you want? I’ll kill you!”
Simultaneously Malcolm saw himself grabbing Leandra’s arm with the same feral expression mirrored on his face. Leandra’s eyes were wide with fright as he pointed at Jaheem and yelled, “What is he doing putting his hands on you?!”
Malcolm stepped back, almost falling off the vaporous cloud he was standing on.
Possession’s smirk widened, and Zelophehad’s warped laugh filled Malcolm’s ears.
“Yes, you understand now. You abhor everything about your father and yet you carry him in your actions.” Zelophehad’s cruel words rooted in Malcolm, turning knots in his stomach.
Malcolm tried to blink away the mirage of himself and his father, but he just saw more shadows of himself when he closed his eyes, leering over Leandra, seizing hold of her, pinning her to the ground. “No, I-” His hands shook violently, his stomach sick. “I would never hurt Leandra!”
An image of Malcolm pinning Leandra to her bed with a flaming fist projected on the swirling darkness of the chasm below. “Wouldn’t you?” Zelophehad’s warped voice simpered, his clusters of goat eyes distorting the image. “You’re a ticking bomb waiting to explode. You’ve hurt everyone that has ever loved you. You taint everything you touch with your filth. Would you not be better off dead?” Then Malcolm’s flaming fist swooped towards Leandra and the whole mirage went up in flames.
Malcolm’s throat constricted. He wanted to deny everything, but the truth was eating him up. He saw his father’s face in his snarl. Saw the same ugly jealousy mirrored within him. How had he become his own worst nightmare?
Chef popped up beside Malcolm, waving his spatula for attention. “No, Somniari! You heal the Veil with your voice. You can bring back the birth of Peace, but you must hold strong and not let Zelophehad’s words take root.”
“But he’s right,” Malcolm could feel his heart cracking into pieces at the realization. He looked at his hands, the Fade strings vibrating with the memory of what he did. “I’m a monster.”
Possession’s grin was so wide, her face looked split in half. “You know you must take Leandra back, by whatever means possible. You belong together. You know it in your heart.”
Hearing his own words in the demon’s voice made bile rise in his mouth. Instead of cleansing the demon, he could feel her corruption seep through their connection, rousing the raging jealousy within him.
Possession’s shark tail thrashed, her gills gaping as she curled in on itself, as her wicked words took root. “Kill your rival. Make sure Leandra knows that she is yours and yours alone. Make her remember her promise to you.” Possession licked her sharp teeth. “She loves you. You love her. That’s all that matters.”
Malcolm wanted to scream, to deny everything, but he knew he would be lying. Ever since he learned of Jaheem’s existence, Malcolm had only ever thought of hurting him. But hearing the demon encourage those dark thoughts sparked a double-edged feeling of desire and fear. Malcolm could feel the demon siphoning out his violent urges like blood through a needle.
Possession’s dark words echoed within him, as she reached through their connection and pulled at the agony in his heart like a fraying knot. “You can’t live without Leandra. She is your heart. Your hope. Your life. Without her you will never taste happiness again. Her laugh will haunt you. You will forever lie awake aching for her touch.”
It was true. Every word of it. And he couldn’t bring himself to deny it.
Possession reached out her hand, her aura darkening the Fade strings connecting them to a dark inky purple with her words. “Leandra belongs to you. Take her!”
He wanted to. He needed to.
Chef took Malcolm by the shoulder, turned his head to look him in the eye. “No! Somniari! Love cannot thrive caged in fear. You must cleanse your heart. Let Leandra go.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened in alarm. “No,” he said immediately without thinking. The thought of living without her was shredding his heart to pieces. “No, I love her. I need her. She’s mine!”
And then the cloud he was standing on lost its solidity and Malcolm fell through the vapor. The Fade strings snapped from Possession and she broke free from Malcolm’s grasp.
Malcolm fell a few feet in the air, before Chef caught him by the hand and he dangled over the jagged rocks. Chef’s spatula fell into the chasm, bouncing off the sharp edges of stone.
With a wave of Possession’s hand, the harpoon came back to her and she aimed it at Malcolm’s heart.
Chef was having difficulty holding Malcolm in the air while dodging Zelophehad’s flailing limbs. “Did you not hear what I said? Foolish Somniari! Now Possession has taken hold of your powers.”
Malcolm tried calling on his magic, but the Fade wasn’t responding. Malcolm’s heart galloped in his chest as he realized he was completely helpless. “What do I do?”
“I already told you! Let Leandra go!”
Malcolm’s heart lurched, tears pricking his eyes. “I can’t! Anything but that!”
Then Possession threw the harpoon. It whistled through the air. Chef tried to dodge out of its path but the harpoon zeroed in on Malcolm, as if attracted to his energy.
It pierced Malcolm’s chest and hot raw pain flooded through him. He coughed out blood, as the harpoon’s energy stuck to his energy and rooted in, gnarling him with burning jealousy. Darkness flooded him as he was consumed by a thirsty, murderous rage. Malcolm needed to kill Jaheem like he needed air in his lungs, water to quench his thirst. He needed to wrap his fingers around Jaheem’s throat and watch the life drain out of his eyes. Malcolm needed to watch Jaheem’s corpse burn into ashes so no one else could claim Leandra.
Chef started to warp under Malcolm’s touch. “The battle is lost, Somniari. Possession has cursed you. Retreat back to your world before Zelophehad claims you.”
But Malcolm couldn’t even do that. Zelophehad’s warped wet voice laughed menacingly. Malcolm could feel his grip slipping out of Chef’s hands as Possession readied a second harpoon.
Then Chef lost hold of Malcolm and he found himself falling into the air again as the harpoon whizzed in his direction. Malcolm clasped his heart, still impaled by the first harpoon, and reached inside himself, calling for help one last time.
He could feel soothing energy responding to his call, the burning pain of rage cooling in his heart. “I have heard your call for aid, Somniari,” Compassion’s voice echoed inside him. “It is time for you to wake up.”
Then a barrier he didn’t call smashed against the harpoon splintering it to pieces.
Malcolm’s body started to fade as he hit the bottom of the chasm, phasing through the jagged rocks. He kept falling, tumbling, vertigo heaving his guts up his throat.
Malcolm sat up suddenly, almost hitting Carver in the forehead, but Carver’s quick reflexes had him ducking back before they collided. Malcolm’s eyes flew open as he gasped heavily, bile burning his mouth. He gagged and spat it out onto the floor, feeling his stomach flip and turn. He still had the sense that he was falling, until he realized he had been thrown back rather hastily to his body in the waking world. His head jostled, parts of his conscience still lingering behind in the Fade.
Malcolm coughed violently, spitting up blood. He was soaked from head to toe with sweat, his curls sticking to his forehead.
“Hey, easy there.” Carver took Malcolm by the shoulders, squeezing some tension out of them. “I tried to wake you up but you looked like you were having a bad dream.” Carver’s eyes fell to Malcolm’s lap. “But I take it you were in the Fade again.”
Malcolm wiped his mouth. His first instinct was to lie, but he caught it halfway out of his mouth and he looked down guiltily. “Was it that obvious?”
Carver sat back on the floor next to Malcolm and handed him a bag of what smelled like fresh burgers and fries. “Well, you were always hard to wake up. But now that I know about you being Somniari, it makes more sense.”
Malcolm rubbed his chest, still feeling the pierced edge of the harpoon rooted in his heart, the edges of his murderous rage still burning in his throat. Trying to forget about it, Malcolm eagerly dug into the burger bag and pulled out some fries, grateful they were still warm. He shoved a fistful into his mouth, the salty greasy potatoes distracting him from all the aches he felt in his body. The rusty blood in his mouth almost ruined the flavor, but another bite fixed that.
Carver waited for Malcolm to scarf down his first burger before saying, “There’s been another murder.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened, some fries falling out of his mouth.
“The body was found in the harbor a few hours ago, which is why I couldn’t come until morning.” Carver’s eyes went glassy. “Nobody we know. She was a young pregnant Darktown woman with no ties that anyone knows of. Left behind two little ones that are being sent to the Chantry orphanage, Maker save them, but thank His Grace that they were spared. We’re going to have to scan the victim’s implant for identification, if she had one at all. We couldn’t find any on the orphans.” Carver gritted his teeth as he looked down at his hands. “But the good news is that you were imprisoned for this murder, so the chances you’re to be blamed for this are minimal. And with another body, we might be able to nail down our demon.”
Malcolm nodded quietly, still stuffing his mouth. He washed a bite of his fries down with a sip of a slightly melted chocolate milkshake. “So are you here to just give me an update or…”
“What do you think?” Carver’s dark eyes snapped to Malcolm. He took out his cell phone and pulled up a notepad app. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about this demon hunting you. And in return, I’ll use my knowledge and resources to help you defeat this demon before it strikes again.”
Malcolm’s shoulders slumped, knowing there was no way out of this. He leaned back on the cell wall, still feeling the twinge of pain in his back and heart, the murderous rage bittering his tongue. He shoved a bite of his second burger in his mouth, trying to erase the taste. “Fine, but gimme my elfroot. If I’m having this conversation, I’m doing it stoned,” he said with a full mouth.
“Don’t leave out any details,” Carver grunted and pulled out a baggie of brownies from his front pocket and tossed it at Malcolm.
Malcolm caught it with one hand. “Swear to the Maker. It’s going to sound batshit crazy, but it’s all the truth.”