Split Fair

My eyes don't leave Cassidy's as the figment gradually sinks into the night. But before it fades entirely, I ask it one last question. I still can't shake off the feeling that something is odd about all this. Is this Aniwye at work?

"Are you really just a part of my Madness?"

His face sinks up and down before disappearing into the darkness. But even once he's gone, his voice echoes through the night, reverberating off the trees somewhere in the pitch-black forest.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. What's madness for one is truth for another. Much lies in the depths of every skill. Everything has the potential to rise to the peak. Most simply don't see the road ahead. Endless mountains. Fathomless depths. Eternal skies. Seek that which you desire, and there will be some reward."

With a fading voice, he leaves eternally. After his exit into the gloaming, the dark quickly devours the remainder of the campfire, returning me to the dusk I was once born in. I breathe out heavily, my chest rising and falling beyond my sight as I think. I can feel every part of my body so intimately it's almost uncomfortable, but I need to focus right now.

The Bloody Palm is closer to me than I thought. It is odd that a figment of Madness told me that. Did I subconsciously use it as I fell unconscious? Or... did something else happen? How close exactly am I and the Bloody Palm. Could it have... could it have used the skill instead of me?

No way. That's... that's impossible, right? I mean, it's from my Sigil. Even if the Palm is acting as a mask over my face, there can't be any way that it uses my Ether as well. Unless... it is. How deep does the connection between Wendigos go?

Can it use my Ether if I'm unconscious and unresponsive? I suppose that makes sense—because if an artifact takes over someone, they are called a Wendigo for the combination of Sigils, but if the artifact could only use its own, then it wouldn't be that terrible.

So, the Bloody Palm must have made this figment to speak to me somehow, only it couldn't do it clearly. It doesn't have a complete mind yet, so it had to do it oddly. It had to somehow hitch off my skills and my Ether, creating a person that was not quite it or me. It seemed to be a little mix in-between the two of us. A Cassidy that was partially me.

This darkness is odd, though. It's cold yet comforting. It only partially reminds me of the Bloody Palm's Ether. Is there anything I can do here? I don't think so.

I'm just stuck here, in this dusk. There is nothing for me to do or to see. The only thing I can do is think.

Hahh...

I lie backward, falling onto my back as the crack of a branch resounds. It's all so odd. I can't see anything with my eyes open, so I close them. And as I do, light streams into my sight. Only a single eye, my left, is all I see through as my body moves within that hallway, not of my accord.

The Bloody Palm controls my body in inhuman alacrity, breaking bones and ripping tendons just to dodge Sequester's vortex. Every second I watch, the wind simply grows harsher and harsher, gradually hauling even Abraham and the awakened Bonfire inward. It fights crazed, trading minor wounds for major ones to merely stay in the fight longer, not even to damage Sequester.

It's as if all it does is toward the goal of surviving a while longer. Another minute. Another second. Another step. It bobs, weaves, and contorts my form to outlast the man as Earl fires bullets whenever he gets a chance. Virgil is gradually nearing, but it's not so easy. Meanwhile, Abraham has recovered, but he's holding Bonfire back from charging to his death. The fiery man is screaming to be let go, but Abraham knows better. Bonfire will just get himself killed in this tempest.

With a quick glance, I find that my chest is mainly recovered, which is probably why I am awake again, but I can sense that the Bloody Palm is tired. Every inch of movement it takes is slower than the last, gradually accruing more and more injuries. First goes my left hand, as the Bloody Palm doesn't care much for a limb that it can regrow instantly by moving itself down there.

But the next thing it trades for its life is my prosthetic arm, as the right half of the hand is struck by Sequester's slash. Flesh and bone cover the missing fingers temporarily, but those are quickly lost as well. Sequester's vortex of air glides across the outer portion of my right arm, ripping out my pinky and ring fingers along with the scythe-like blade. The metal careens into a wall and embeds inches into the steel corridor.

In exchange for that, the Bloody Palm doesn't lose our head as it shuffles close to the ground like a possessed acrobat. Still, the fight continues on, Sequester somehow growing more desperate. Several holes exist in his armor from Earl's bullets, but the Bloody Palm pounces whenever he advances toward the man. Every instinct must be telling it not to let Earl die. Or it knows the man is my friend. I wonder which is the case.

Yet, gradually, we lose. Each second more and more blood spills from us as the Bloody Palm loses control of the situation, being put deeper and deeper inside a hole neither of us can escape from.

But as Sequester goes in for our head with his vortex, a shadow appears, or more precisely, a shadow followed by its owner. Virgil's Silhouette contorts its form around Sequester's arm, slamming the coiled air into the wall instead with a deafening screech while the man himself wraps his arms and broken leg around Sequester. The man whom I've never found an equal in close quarters manages to grapple Sequester in but a split second. Then, for the first time in a fight, he rips his mask off with a Nightwhip and shouts at me while Sequester fights back. Virgil's physical strength is next to nothing compared to Sequester's, but the lockdown Virgil has placed him in compensates for a moment.

"GO! NOW! WE CAN'T BEAT HIM!"

I want to scream, I want to argue, I want to stay, but the Bloody Palm is in control. And even as I shout at it, the damned thing twists us around and runs away, seeking our survival above all. The last thing I see of Virgil is him being slammed into the wall, barely Flickering in time not to be turned into a corpse. Still, I won't stop fighting back for control.

"Stop! Turn around! He needs us! They need us! What are you doing!? STOP! I thought we were close! What was all that about!? Why are you running! TURN THE FUCK AROUND!"

Despite my pleas, the Bloody Palm controls my body to escape, running on two legs and one broken prosthetic arm. The ownership of my body won't be relinquished back unless the Bloody Palm tires or does so willingly.

If I were to battle for control, truly, I'd only kill us both by diverting its efforts of keeping us alive. So, I'm forced to watch as we round a corner, running for our lives. But as we turn that corner, a garbled word comes from the Bloody Palm, what I believe is it's first true Chero word.

"Trst."

Trust? It wants me to trust it?

How can I possibly trust it? It's leaving them all to die!

"I don't care what Virgil said. He needs us! You need to turn me around right now! I swear---"

"Trst."

The Bloody Palm continues sprinting, leaping with bounding steps every second through the hallway of ruined traps. The wind gathers upon Sequester as he focuses on Virgil and the stumbling Abraham, leaving us without any impediment. My blood stains the floor as we move, dyeing the silvery metal red as I lose more and more of my life. But... gradually, my lungs are reforming. If we stayed any longer... I don't know if my body could have held up much longer, even with the Bloody Palm's help.

Fuck it. Better I trust in it than I kill the both of us. That's what that whole thing was about, right? Trust?

"Dammit! Fine! Fine! Just this once!"

***********

Earl Garner

The wind obscures so much of the happenings that I struggle even to see the battle. I'm sure over half of my bullets are missing, even with Marionette. But one thing that is obvious is Virgil making the Bloody Palm-controlled Wyatt run away.

The occupancy of the body is evident with the boned mask on his head. Not to mention the see-through hole in his chest where organs are slowly reforming. All Virgil is doing is buying him some time to heal and live.

I'm confident that Wyatt will pull himself back from that abyss. He's done it before. This time won't be any different.

Squinting through the harsh gales, I watch two Virgils, one comprised entirely of shadow and another with a twisted leg wrestle Sequester. The once-Damned stays as close as he possibly can, leaving Sequester's body only when ripped off.

As they fight, I take several potshots, but a pained scream from Virgil as he has several fingers ripped off makes me fire too early. The bullet ricochets off the wall, hitting nothing but air. The man of shadow, kneeling before Sequester as the winds finally start to die down, shouts at me, too.

"YOU, TOO. TAKE THEM! GET JOHNNY!"

Rarely do I even get to see his face. But I've never seen him so enraged. Black ichor drips down his face, joining the blood he spills. I open my mouth to refuse but immediately close it as Sequester follows up with a slash of air that carves a dent into the wall a foot deep. Abraham, sneezing out a clump of blood, shoves Virgil into the wall with his mind, and Virgil follows with a Flicker. The air scarcely misses Virgil's scalp, and Sequester turns with fire in his eyes at us.

Without arguing, I follow his order, shuffling past the laboratory's door I used for cover to help Abraham and Bonfire up. The latter is barely conscious, a gnarly gash on the back of his head as he still battles to rejoin the fight. Abraham doesn't look too good, either. Blood cascades down his nose as his eyes are hazy and trembling.

Concussion and aneurysm. Bad ones, too. It seems like Bonfire got slammed into a wall, and Abraham pushed his Nightmares too far for them all to die too quickly alongside those powerful Forces. The pale man whispers confusedly to me as I haul him and Bonfire with me.

"Where?"

One second ago he knew where he was and saved Virgil. Now he struggles even to recognize his surroundings. Not good. Not good at all.

"It's okay, follow me. We need to hurry."

I speak calmly despite my internal worry, hoping neither will notice. I need to take them to the medic car quick. Bonfire should be fine with some time to recover, but Abraham could have some severe repercussions without treatment. But as I pull him, Abraham's eyes glisten, a spark of brilliance within. The alabaster-haired man shakes his head, tripping as he holds onto the wall. He speaks as if he holds no injuries.

"Take the dumbass. I'll do what I can to help. Overdrive can make up for the brain damage."

I tilt my head at him, severely concerned and in fear for his safety, but he nods at me.

"I'll be fine. This... this man is someone I have to see die."

The determination in Abraham's shaky and trembling pupils is something I've never seen before from him. He's focused and entirely willing to die for a goal. It's unlike him. So, so, so very unlike him. He's a serious man, only joking around with Bonfire, but he rarely has anything worth being serious about besides his past. And I suppose this is as relevant to his past as it gets. Sequester, huh? I wonder why he's so special. Shaking my head, I grab Bonfire and pull him with me.

We quickly enter the lab once more as Virgil buys us some time. We can't run past Sequester, so I can only hope there is an additional exit in here: a secret escape hatch or something. There has to be. I quickly scan the room, only to see the electricity fading in and out in a form of communication. I take a second to promptly grasp meaning as I search for a way out.

"Back right. Capsule."

"Thank you!"

Despite the man's cruel machinations, I give him my gratitude as I spot what he means. In the far right corner, there is a curved and cylindrical capsule that looks as though it would fit one person.

I drag Bonfire against his feeble attempts to not go with me and place him beside the capsule. He still seems very out of it, all their effort and willpower put into not being killed by the gales even after being slammed with a deadly concussion. I quickly reassure Bonfire before finding the clasp on the capsule and opening it, expecting to find a staircase, onto to find the inside of a tiny room.

It would barely fit a large man, let alone two. Sighing, I step in, assuming it is some kind of technology that Eli has made. Bonfire alongside me squishes us into the capsule so badly I struggle to maneuver at all. And as I enter, lights turn on above me, with two glowing squares waiting.

GROUND LAB

Not having much time or opportunity to ponder on it, I press the left square. A rumbling immediately surrounds me, and I start circulating Ether in case it is something dangerous. But that fear rapidly subsides as the capsule stops, opens, and is filled with the sun's rays.

Frantically, I push myself out and find the capsule above the upended earth. I twist around to find the library behind me and a massive body covered in fur, unmoving.

"What..."

Echoing sounds come from a forest behind me, but an even louder detonation of something originates from within the library. Instantly, I move toward that. I bet that's where Johnny is.

********************

Virgil *Wraith* Boone

As I Flicker in and out of reality, constantly entering that world between worlds of the Bakwa and many other creatures, my heart races with each transition. With every Flicker, strange and unfathomable creatures from another realm surround me, distorting my perception of reality. Each time I shift between worlds, I feel a jolt of disorientation, as if reality itself is trying to reject me. At first, it's just odd shadows and fleeting glimpses with that sensation, but the visions become more vivid and haunting as the fight goes on. Those beings are approaching me, getting closer. I've never Flickered this much before in such a short timeframe. I can't tell whether or not I'll turn into a puddle of flesh from Ether saturation or I'll simply be devoured by these things.

The strain on my mind and body intensifies with each transition, but I push the discomfort aside. If I can't buy enough time for Earl to get Johnny, Tomas, or even Lennon, we'll all die down here.

My mind and body strain under the constant shifts, and the line between the two worlds blurs. But, I continue fighting, grounding myself with the sensations and feelings from my Silhouette. Sequester often destroys the manifestation of my Nightwhips, but I recreate it the moment I return to reality, the headache of doing so helping me stay steady.

I can't beat him.

I know that.

I can't even last another minute.

That is clear.

But... I can buy time. When it's just me, I can Flicker in and out. Not even Tomas in our duels in Bent could hit me if I placed my all into the skill. I just wish it was night. I can't use Illuminate during the day, even indoors. At least Abraham is still using his Ether. The random pressure he exudes on Sequester has saved me thrice already. I just worry that Sequester will give up on that promise to let Abraham be executed and kill him right now.

Sacrificing my Silhouette, I avoid another strike from Sequester as he grows increasingly enraged, his winds of malevolence picking up once more. But a second slash comes from him, this one originating behind me out of thin air. I notice only due to the recreation of Silhouette as the highly sensitive Ether detects the breach in the air.

Once again, I Flicker, my entirety leaving this plane as I let my whole self enter the other world. Otherwise, I can't dodge things so densely made of Ether.

Blinking lights play havoc with my senses in this nightmarish realm, casting eerie and shifting shadows that seem to mock my presence. Fog warbles and waves as it is all that remains. The figures I catch glimpses of are awful satires of what can be called alive, their forms morphing and warping in the ever-changing landscape. My own mind turns against me, playing tricks and leaving me disoriented. I feel a hand brush alongside mine, and I pull back immediately, afraid of what the thing is.

Every time I come here past a certain point without resting my mind, the hold it possesses on me grows deeper. Flicker is unlike most other Absolution skills or Powers I've seen. Its ability develops over time, but as it does, the negatives do so as well. The more I use it, the swifter, the easier, and the more potent it is. But the same is true for the damages it causes.

I gasp aloud as I haul myself back, concentrating on the battle as I reappear a foot away from where I Flickered from. Odd. That's new. I can use that. I hope that has nothing to do with the physical contact.

Sequester pivots with a swing of his blade, leveraging it toward me with a cluster of beguiling winds that appear from all directions, forcing me to leap toward a wall. As I move, a thousand cuts slice into my flesh, but I hold on. Reaching forward, I Flicker into the wall just in time to not be eviscerated by the Nahullo.

I only hear his scream before I enter the Otherworld.

"COWARD!"

Not giving me time to grin at his rage, grasping hands emerge from the darkness, their emaciated fingers reaching out as if to drag me deeper into the abyss. Yet, the phalanges touch me without effect, simply phasing through my body. Physical forms have no substantial impact here. But their proximity does little to stem my fear—panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to overwhelm me. The unknowable figures surround me, speaking languages that are impossible for a human tongue.

Gritting my unearthly teeth, I force my Ether to move, reconnecting me to my world. But, unexpectedly, I appear, not out of the wall, but right behind Sequester.

Can't waste this opportunity.

I swing for his back with daggers dipped in Necrosis, seeking to put at least some lasting injury through the weak points in his steel left by Earl. Another Silhouette forms as he just destroyed the last one, but my saturation runs dangerously low. My head blasts with non-stop pain, and I momentarily think of Vernon, nearly dying because he fell unconscious from the pain.

But I don't let it distract me, and before Sequester can turn around, I land both daggers, though only the right one digs deep enough through a weak point to meet flesh. However, before I can see the result, I Flicker again, not wanting to lose my head to his Claymore.

With each Flicker, the hallucinations grow more vivid and menacing, but usually, the effects take a while to appear or not at all. This time, I instantly see faces leering at me from the corners of my vision. Two of them hold the same countenances as my parents, their long-deceased faces pausing me in my tracks.

"Ma? Pa?"

My voice echoes eerily into the elongating hallway that forms, but I can't look away. No matter how much I try, I can't. It's been nearly two decades since I saw them last.

"Hey, Virgil. Have you been alright? We're sorry we weren't there, but... we didn't have a choice. What about your siblings? Are they okay? Is little Vernon all grown up? What about Aron? Nora? Victor?"

I can't help but reply instantly, trying to explain.

"I--- I--"

But I quickly stop, shards of reasoning returning. Yet, my parents take that as some admonishment of guilt.

"You got them killed, didn't you? Virgil... I knew we should have just taken your siblings and left you. You're useless. You're nothing but a trained murderer, attempting and failing at atoning for his sins."

Both of them speak as one, sharing the exact words that cut deeply, but I shake them aside. They aren't real. And... even if they were...

They left me. They left us. I had to pick up the pieces of our family. Everything was shattered when they disappeared from our life. I was only fourteen when they left—hardly a young man, barely more than a boy. Yet... I picked it up just as Pa told me to.

Just like I have to pick up this fight. I failed Vernon. I failed my parents. But... I won't fail Wyatt. I'll buy him enough time to heal.

I say a final parting as I force Ether to reconnect me, knowing I will likely have to find something else the next time. And as I do, the two figures shift, revealing long, extended maws that fall to the ground, opening to fit an entire human should they step in. Chills run down my back, comprehending these are the two creatures that were speaking to me, hidden by confusion, but I don't stop. I need to get it off my chest.

"I did all a young man could. All a poor, homeless young man could without any help and four siblings to protect. Sleepless nights have turned into sleepless weeks. Even my own Sigil is built so that I would never lose watch of them. I... I did all I could."

After I finish, their faces fade, returning me onto the hallway floor as I find myself held down by Sequester, the Nahullo preparing to kill me. My heart races as I realize I came back over a second ago, but my mind was left in that world. Sequester's blade rears up as I see a moving figure behind him, about to pounce on his back.

My brain fires at incredible speeds, calculating the two diverging paths ahead. I can risk another Flicker, one that I may not return from. Or, I can take this slash and die. One is a dead-end; the other is a harrowing hallway filled with never-ending nightmares, memories, and darkness.

Maybe... maybe it's time I face my past. Too many men and women were slain by my darkness, both good and bad. I always figured I could make up for it. And that minor, tiny, almost inconsequential run-in with my parents is nothing. The death of Vernon weighs heavily on my soul, the greatest of all those I've failed. But... he is one of a thousand and merely a testament to my loss.

I don't know what will come next. All I know is that, at this point, I enter so very deeply into that realm with each Flicker. It could be a massive spirit, an otherplanar, or some other creature that quickly could kill or madden me.

Ether quickly suffuses my body, latching it onto the Otherworld, and as a deluge of colors consumes my vision, I Flicker into the ground, the Claymore riding the edge of my flesh downward yet not entering it at all, only managing to cut my clothes.