ada

Ada － she/they － +20 🌊 multifandom 🍃 I reblog a lot and also get angry. I write sometimes. 🎐 I may post and repost nsfw content. Please follow at your own discretion.

[adalz]

. 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆

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[adalz]

Lacrymosa - part 8

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader ー Angel!Levi / Angel!Reader

chapter warnings: violence, blood, wounds, physical pain / mention of death / mention of war / sacrilege tw / character death / so much love

world count: 3.2k

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You were running. Muscles stretched taut, fire surging through your veins. In your back, your wings were burning.

Your arm lifted, the spear steady in your grasp, its tips locked onto her heart. Once more, your wings lashed against the air.

Her fingers curled into a fist – sealing the curse.

The spear cut through the air with a sharp hiss.

And in your back, flesh and feather tore apart.

You did not miss.

How could you miss?

This was what you were made for in the first place. To fight, to kill at her will. To defend these lands and those who dwelled within them.

But no one was here anymore.

No more laughter, no more whispers, no more steady breaths brought by the heavy, somber sleep of this place.

All of them. She had disposed of them.

All of them. Erased, like a stain wiped from a cloth, like a letter torn apart in secrecy, like a forest set to flame in blind devotion.

No more their skin. No more the tips of their fingers.

No more the feathers of their wings. No more their hearts, no more their lives.

As though they had never existed at all. As though the dreams etched behind their eyes had been nothing more than fleeting, ephemeral lies.

There was nothing left to protect.

No more, the blue horizon shining in his eyes.

No more, the rasping tones of his voice, the shaking of his throat.

The honey of his touch

The fragility of his soul

No more.

Your vision turned red. Red from the blood pounding in your temples, from the crashing rhythm of your heart against your chest.

Red from the fire in your wings, sticky and searing.

Red from the thousands of feathers swirling all around you, from the blood trailing down your arms.

Red, because the flow was relentless, because pain was no longer sudden but slow, insidious, awakening in your back.

Red from the blood of the child before you, as if frozen in time, her eyes wide in shock.

You did not miss.

Ymir had taken everything from you. Life and death alike.

How could you miss.

Blood spurted weakly on the floor. Her hand fell back to her side. Yet, she did not break her gaze as the spear slid through flesh. Her eyes stayed fixed on yours.

As if to register the pain. She took a deep ragged breath.

Still, she stared, as her hands rose to the spear embedded in her chest.

One to the front, fingers curling around the blood-slick shaft. The other reaching back, feeling blindly for its point of exit, for the spearhead coming out of her back. Her breath hitched. And still, she stared.

Right at you, right through you. Like a wretched, pathetic little creature.

That was it. That was the moment she was supposed to fall completely. The moment that weak version of her was meant to give in. Her eyes were meant to dull and grow heavy, and she was supposed to succumb to her own tools. She had lost. She was supposed to.

Was it not enough?

Her fingers closed around the wooden shaft.

She began to pull, inch by inch.

Her face contorted in spasms of pain. Every movement was slow, the shaft slick beneath her grip, red pouring from her in rivers.

And now… Now what?

The worst that could happen was for her to reclaim your weapon, for her to learn how to wield it against you, to turn the roles inside out. Without it, without that cursed gift she had bestowed upon you centuries ago, you had nothing left. Nothing to fight with.

And all around you, feathers scattered across the floor. Something tore at the skin of your back, your wings withering. It burrowed under your skin, crept sinuously, trailing everywhere, to your arms, to your throat. Feather by feather, something deeper was peeling away from you.

You raised your hand. Warmth surged in your fingers, tugging at that thread, calling back to you.

But the spear did not move.

It remained still. Buried deep in her chest, blood-stained hands holding it tight.

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Not twice.”

And you could not move fast enough.

You rose to your feet, and feathers flared all around you, each heartbeat sending molten iron through your veins, instilling in your wings, blinding, as she reclaimed your spear — her weapon.

The whole length of the wooden shaft was black with blood, and you could only watch, as it slid out of her chest. As she winced, as beads of water fell from her forehead, from her eyes.

As both of her hands closed firmly around it, held it before her. As the muscles in her arms pushed against it. Pain pulsed in your temple, fire burning brighter with each heartbeat. And without a cry, without a single falter– she snapped it in half.

The sound echoed all around the pristine walls. Hundreds of invisible threads snapped at the same time.

Heat in your hand, power to wield it, vanished.

Pieces clattered to the ground. Splinters in blood. Feathers and snow froze midair, suspended in silence.

She turned to you.

You saw it in her face then. That surge of victory that washed over her.

Yet she did not have time to smile.

With a deafening roar, black chains erupted from the ground beneath her feet. From every crack, every fracture across the floor, they surged upward from the abyss, lashing out like serpent. It was the same dark veins, the same essence that marred her face.They thrashed, seized her arms and legs, wrapping around her, binding her in an unrelenting grip.

A sharp cry tore from her throat as the force wrenched her down – on her knees, to the ground. For an instant, the blood dripping into the snow ceased.

Her own creation. Her own sentence.

You could not win this war, but neither could she. Not against him.

Not against the one she had once chosen, the one she had gifted with the deadliest of powers. Ymir’s breath hitched, lips parting as though to speak. The chains tightened around her limbs, pulsing against her reddening skin. Her struggle weakened, her form so little, trembling beneath the weight of her own power turned against her.

"You cannot do that," she whispered, and her eyes set behind you. A plea, fragile. Searching for something, anything that could alter this moment.

And through the crimson-stained frost, Levi walked.

He walked slowly, as he had once walked through that clearing, among ruin and silence. He walked past you, as darkness rippled all around him with each step, mist in his wake.

A few feet before you, he halted. Took a step again. Halted once more.

Something was dripping from his hands. Thick. Black. Staining the ground at his feet in heavy drops.

Even with his back turned to you, you could see his chest rise, unsteady.

Instinct moved you.

You stepped forward.

You pushed, took another step. Pushing despite the fire in your body, despite the searing pull of torn muscle and broken bones. The world swayed all around, cracked at the edges of your sight.

It was more than a broken wing.

It was something else — burrowing deep in your flesh, winding its way into your veins. A curse. You could feel it settling slowly in your bones. Something was rotting, from within. Like bones slicing through skin.

And soon it would reach your heart.

Not yet.

You took another step, adrenaline, last spark of strength in your veins.

It came to you, as it always had, a thousand times before. When nothing made sense, when he was the only one who ever woke you from eternal sleep.

Your hand brushed his arm. It met a strange rigidity, his body taut with a palpable tension. He was still, but he let you, without a word, without a move. Slowly then, his face turned. But something held him back from meeting your gaze.

And when your eyes found his, there was no trace of the familiar silver in his eyes. Only an ocean of darkness, hundreds of black veins running behind his skin, threading through the white of his eyes. The light in his irises was gone, clouded by something you couldn’t even capture.

He lowered his head ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if trying to hide himself from your sight. He was breaking in turn, engulfed by his own power, swallowed whole, each breath heavier.

Still, he did not break the touch of your hand. Instead, his arm shifted hesitantly. His fingers rose with caution, trembling as they sought your hand — until they slipped into yours.

A long time ago, your hands had belonged to him, your whole heart had been his, in ways you had never dared comprehend. But not anymore.

Now, everything was breaking. You had refused to be bound to him. You stood on your own will, fighting for what was right, for what you wanted. But not for him.

It meant killing the God.

It meant erasing her, tearing apart the fate she had woven with her own hands.

Once, only once, someone had been casted out. You remembered.

You had all been there.

A gathering of children, seated on burning ground. Torn from sleep, made witnesses to a crime committed while their eyes were still closed. Ymir had made you recite the name, had forced you to chant. And it had come to you, because she had commanded it so, carrying the power she had stripped from herself and poured into you.

There had been an exile.

One single time, across thousands of years lost to slumber.

She had made an example of it.

An example for anyone who might wish to leave. For anyone who might recoil at the absurdity of the goddess, at the cruelty of her abandonment, at the cold machinations of her world. At her punishment eternal.

You remembered the face. The tears-filled amber eyes.

You remembered the colors, the sounds that split the air. The song she sang, the curse she forced upon your lips. She never taught you the words, yet they came to you all, as a command.

She had made you swear never to forget.

It had lain dormant within you. The last weapon you never knew you would wield.

“Full of tears will be that day,” you murmured. The words caught in your throat.

Alone, it would not be enough. Not now, not with the curse gnawing through your flesh, feasting upon your body. It had to be him. His to grant. His to accept.

Please

You raised your head to Levi. Behind eyes shot through with black ink, he was still there, buried beneath that power, slowly atrophying his vision. His brows were furrowed, his gaze flickering back and forth as if struggling to focus.

There was something in his face lingering with hesitation.

If you ever loved me

And he did. He did, so fiercely that he had raised an army, and watched it slaughter and devour his own brothers and sisters, just to save you. You could see it on his face now, all that love behind the darkness. It has always been there.

Softly, the darkened orbs of his eyes shifted to you. And behind all their darkness, he spoke. He spoke the song, just like you did once. When you were both children, when there was nothing to be afraid of in these eternal gardens.

“When from the ashes shall arise the guilty man to be judged.”

His voice was low, a prayer wrapped in steel.

And yours followed, melting into his, echoing against the shattered stone.

“Therefore spare him.”

It hung between you, suspended in the air. Not cast, not lifted. Suspended.

Ymir's body writhed against the chains, the rattle of the chains endless. She was watching you, eyes burning with an ancestral hatred too great to be contained in the fragile, frail form she now wore.

She lowered her head. The power in her limbs receded for just a moment.

But when she raised her gaze again, her voice was erratic.

“You. Stubborn creatures of my creation— You cannot... You cannot kill me.”

A chain shattered — the one binding her right arm.

Before she could make another movement, Levi lifted his hand.

Her body slammed into the ground, the impact cracking the floor beneath her.

Levi’s whole body trembled, shaking from the force he poured into keeping her pinned. Veins pulsed harder, burning across his skin, each one straining, power bleeding him dry.

“Quick,” he muttered, his fingers crushing around yours. “Get him.”

The curse lingered above you, waiting to fall. A blade suspended above your heads.

You turned, staggering.

Pain coiled deeper with each step. Your wings were rotting – feathers blackened, flesh torn, muscles screaming. Every motion seared fire down your spine, as if the very essence of what made them was being torn away from you, piece by piece.

You staggered but did not stop. Away from them, toward the ashen man lying among the snow.

You fell to your knees before him.

Hands trembling as they skimmed over his skin, you bent low. Your lips brushed Zeke’s ear, warm breath against the frozen touch of him. You gathered him close, cradling him against you, where you once thought nothing could hurt him. And when you spoke, your voice resonated through the silence, carried on the snow, beyond the fractures of darkness in the ground.

It was no whisper.

“Open your eyes, Zeke.”

The world stilled. Death and nature marveled. Life and death, fate and finality.

“Open your eyes – and look at Her.”

The blade of the curse fell.

Behind you, Levi grunted.

You turned, cautious of your every movement, and reached out a hand to him.

Silver wings flared open violently.

In the blink of an eye, he was by your side, kneeling before you. His hand closed over yours, freezing your skin with his power.

And in your arms, Zeke stirred. The stillness of his form began to melt, frost turned to water, dripping on his skin like thousands of tears.

A sharp gasp. A single breath. A shuddering silence.

Across the battlefield, Ymir's wide, pain-filled eyes met yours. Golden and gleaming with disbelief.

And then terror.

Her face contorted, stricken by sheer horror. She looked upon him. Upon the scene unfolding before her eyes. Upon what was coming. The mortal who would end her.

Rising from the ashes, the guilty man. Guilty of ancient sins committed long ago, cursed for being born.

“Once the cursed have been silenced,” you whispered. And Levi was only looking at you, behind all of his power.

“The guilty man who is to be judged–

Then spare him”

Something shattered in the universe. A soundless crack, glass breaking behind the skies. From deep beneath the surface of the earth, from across the fabric of existence, something awakened.

The sky awoke. The tide rose.

And Zeke’s eyes opened.

Levi’s grip tightened in yours. You felt them, both of them, their presence sinking into you, anchoring you in this moment. Both of them, losing everything for you.

And when Ymir’s dimmed golden eyes met the ocean of his, she screamed.

Not in fear, not in rage. But a cry from creation itself— a raw, piercing agony, like fire consuming flesh, like her very soul was unraveling beneath his gaze.

She, who had cursed Mankind, forbidding them to ever look upon her again. 

To be captured, to be seen by a mortal, by a man… To be stripped of her divinity in his sight alone.

Zeke did not flinch. You caught a sight of him, of his face, his cheeks bruised. Of the sweat on his brow, of his nose, bleeding. Of his face, hurting, hurting— bathing in light.

His arm searched for you, found your elbow, wandered your arm until his fingers tightened at your shoulder. His gaze unmoving. He was very still as she writhed, her cries echoing into the abysses all around.

Zeke, who had once lived devoted to the goddess now shrieking before him.

Zeke, who had endured his fate, his wounds, the unbearable weight of wars caused by her hands.

Now he watched her, drinking in the frailty of her form, hurting in her dying, terminating it. 

Snow crashed around you, the storm growing. The cold bit deep into your skin, and yet the world burned. Levi’s hand, strong in yours, seemed to waver. The chains of shadow trembled, stretched to their limit. 

Everywhere — light. Bursting out of her. Splitting the air, fracturing it. She was unraveling, golden essence spilling, evaporating into nothingness. Chains melted around her body, in dark, thick droplets of molten tar, their grip dissolving as she fractured. Light dried the blood, turned it black. 

Levi turned to you. 

It was like looking at a shadow of him, engulfed far beyond the inky veins creeping across his face. It was as if he was still there, beneath everything that ate him alive, beneath all that power he could not control.

Somehow, you saw him smile.

There was no hint of victory on his face. Yet he smiled, to the quiet that would come soon. To peace, and to silence.

His gaze dropped to your joined hands. There was a flicker on his face, something like sorrow. Slowly, his hand lifted.

Fingers brushed your wrist, as if you might shatter under his touch

Then, one by one, he began to pull your fingers free. 

Gently.

Carefully.

Until you let go. 

You watched him, as finger after finger, he slipped away.

But you reached again. Clutching his arm, pulling him down — tugging him to his knees before you. There was so much light, the sound of her voice, endless, echoing out of it. 

You brought your hand to his cheek, felt the treads pulsing, ancient and alive stirring beneath his skin. He looked at you, and you saw it again. His smile. 

A soft expression had settled upon his face. Something like relief.

His blackened gaze dropped, then rose back to meet yours. And he lingered there. As if he was memorizing every last piece of you.

He leaned in, and you let him. Lips came to your face, brushing your cheek, the touch barely there. 

He whispered, among the chaos: “It’s alright.”

His breath was cold against your skin. It travelled softly to your left eye.

“You have done enough.”

A pause. A breath.

He nudged you forward, his forehead resting against yours for the briefest moment. His lips lingered at the corner of your mouth.

His jaw clenched, and finally, he whispered,

You have to go now.

And light was burning everything.

Live.

And know there will always be part of me in the tide, 

in the flowers blooming from the snow.

I am the cycle, the beginning and the end.

I will always know you.

And when your time comes, 

I will always find you.

Death came to you, kissed you on the cheek.

The words trembled. A truth he could not say out loud.

And darkness surged all around you. Shadows wrapped around your arms and legs, engulfing Zeke’s body, pulling, pulling you away— tearing you away from his blackened eyes, away from his trembling hands. 

The last thing you saw was Levi on his knees, immobile, his hand reaching—

Letting you go.

Him, at the edge of his power, as the abyss consumed the battlefield whole.

And darkness swallowed everything.

[adalz]

Lacrymosa - part 7

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader ー Angel!Levi / Angel!Reader

chapter warnings: mention of violence, blood, wounds, mention of war / sacrilege tw

world count: 9.1k

a/n: did you forget about them ?

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Drifting in forgotten sensations, a spirit was being lulled by a gentle, warm breeze.

Everything was fluid, heady. In a pristine immensity, the world was washing over it, swamped with the colors of forgotten days.

The world was warm. Sticky. The heat of the sun was enshrouding your whole body.

Rest— at last. It was a mellow sensation, one you were used to. A familiar state in which you could have sworn you had once been immersed in for an eternity.

It was an all-embracing light, the first rays of sunshine after a never-ending winter. Like ice melting with the coming of spring, liberating life from winter’s claws. A harmonious, selfless state, disinterested in the world and its on-going. Immersed in for millennia, connected to the universe and to every atom that composed it. Floating through existence, like a boat on the ocean.

The ocean…

Frozen waters warming up with morning sun, its ferocious currents and capricious tides.

The ocean covering the world, drowning forgotten lands. The ocean, implacable and untameable, water crashing against white sand, eroding the rocks and furrowing the abysses. The ocean.

Like a whisper, memories started flowing through you, apprehending the hollow shapes they had left in your mind — the memory of the sea stretching beyond the horizon. So far away, and out of time.

It resonated with familiar colors, the sapphire reflections of the waves breaking against the chalk cliffs. The delicate azure of the sun reflected in its midst. Intimate shades of blue, like veins on your skin. Such a familiar shade of blue, hidden behind glass. Such pure blue, contained behind half-closed eyelids and dark blond lashes. Glimpse of a vibrating glance, the warmth of a gaze, the overwhelming feeling of being watched, of wanting to be seen, of wanting to be loved. Delicate flaxen hair framing an insolent smile, locks glistening as raindrops clung onto them.

His eyes, the color of the ocean.

The color of life.

Zeke.

Zeke, the only mortal worthy of existing in this world.

The only human to whom you would have surrendered your eternity, just to die in his arms.

The only man who had brought you back to life, sealing it beneath your skin, erasing, stitch by stitch, the intoxication and folly of eternity.

Behind your closed lids, the color of the ocean bled into a deep purple. Blue, streaked with red, the shades of bruised skin, bitten by eternal snow. The sound of laughter faded, swallowed by a scream. Zeke, alone, while outside, gunfire and flames devoured the world. Zeke, covered in your blood.

But there, under the palm of your numbed hands, igniting every one of your senses, the warmth of a body, pressed against you.

Slowly, your muscles stirred, sensations awakening beneath your skin. The sudden awareness of your existence, your body alive, muscles taut, holding onto a body ablaze with heat. Your back arched, drawn irresistibly downward, the ground searing against your bare knees. And yet, there it was — the soft brush of his hair against your cheeks, your throat. Your fingers gripped the fiery skin.

The scent of his cologne mingled with that of smoke, the smell of a charred earth, the essence of a body worn out by relentless effort. And just as your mind lingered on the memory of the fragrance of sunlit warmth, the southern wind carrying sea-spray on its breeze, it all crashed into you.

The last thing you remembered were the eyes of a monster — a predator’s gaze, steeped in darkness, poised to devour you. Piercing silver, swallowing everything, even the strength to fight back. Those eyes had torn you from the Surface, from the wild chaos of that untamed world. They had snatched you from an uncertain fate, from an expected death. They had robbed you of what you had chosen, from the very choice you had made. You had been forbidden to live.

And soon, you would have to wake up. Soon, you would have to open your eyes and face reality.

You knew what was happening. Behind your closed eyes, these feverish sensations betrayed the only place they could exist in. You knew them all too well - these endless mazes of marble.

When your life was nothing more than wandering through these halls, you knew nothing. Innocent as the first snow, lulled into slumber by sweet, hollow lies, you had searched for meaning. Yet here, nothing ever felt right. The echoes of ancient wanderings only served to conceal the void of ignorance.

Here, where all sensations blended into sameness, where sleep was eternal. Here, where beings had remained untouched by consciousness for a thousand years, walled up in whispers and dreams. Here, where sometimes, like a fleeting miracle, you remembered coming back to life — amidst silver reflections swaying across the colossal walls of the Gardens of Paradis.

He used to be the one that made you feel.

Yet, never before had Levi's presence ignited such a fierce fire within you. Never before had it stirred that searing warmth deep in your chest.

Never before had it made you feel truly alive.

And that feverish body in your arms seemed out of place. You had longed for it, dared to hope for it, yet never believed it would be possible. You had sworn not to leave him on those cursed lands, even when all hope seemed lost. Like a selfish child, you had refused to let go of him. But he wasn't supposed to be there, pressed against you. For no mortal was allowed to look upon the colors of Paradis without facing consequences. None were meant to witness the beings that roamed its grounds without meeting death.

And in your arms was the one who had once spilled your blood while tending your wounds, the one who had pierced your flesh to heal it.

Back on the Surface, you had not let go of him. You had clung to him with desperate need, in an impetuous whim. Deep down, you might have thought it wouldn't work, that he was meant to stay behind, among the corpses and the snow.

Slowly, you blinked. The light seeped through, blinding and relentless, like a scalding stream of water flooding your eyelids. It burned sharply, making it nearly possible to make out shapes amidst so much light. Yet, against the blinding brightness, you could discern the outline of his body, the bare skin of his chest, warm and impossibly real, stained with your own blood.

He was there.

More vulnerable than he had ever been. In the one place forbidden to his kind, the holiest and most sacred of lands. Here, you could do nothing to protect him, subject to the goddess's implacable rules. This was her home, her land.

Zeke stirred gently against you, his skin brushed softly under your touch. He uttered something, a low groan of pain escaping his lips. Your fingers, trembling, finally released their tight grip on him, sliding over his shoulder, tracing the sharp lines of his face. They came to rest against his cheek, following the curve of his jawline, lost in the soft, coarse touch of his beard. Slowly, his face turned toward you. Your breaths met, lips so close.

Aching as you were, you felt a surge of giddiness — it felt so good to see him awake, to know he was safe. To know he was alive.

"My love," you whispered softly.

His eyes were closed, squinting against the radiant light all around you. He shifted slightly, his hand reaching instinctively to his face as if to shield himself from the overwhelming brightness pressing down on you.

“No,” you urged, pushing his hand away. “Keep your eyes closed. Do not open them.”

“Where… where are we?” he grunted, his voice rough and low.

“Paradis.”

He winced in a silent response.

You knew what he was thinking, because it mirrored your own thoughts. The grim realization of what awaited him, the fury of the goddess, to know her ground sullied by the spawn of her rejected humanity, once again. The cold judgment of your brothers and sisters, their bitter disappointment in you, you, the one who had surrendered to the forbidden pull of human desire.

But none of that mattered. Not her wrath, not their scorn.

You would never, ever allow her to take him from you. You would never let him go, even if it meant giving your life — small and fleeting as it was. You would protect him, no matter the cost.

Because you would rather burn for eternity than let him die.

You would not let him die. You would never let her win.

“It’s not over yet,” you murmured against him, cheek pressed against his. His skin was burning, while even the air itself felt as pure fire. Here, so close to the sun, where the children of Ymir drew their divine powers.

“It's over for me, isn’t it,” he breathed. His words were hollow, not a question. His voice was hoarse. Worned thin by screams, by endless running. Tired of fighting for his life, and for yours. Tired of having lost so much.

“Zeke,” you said, forcing your voice to steady. “You have to listen to me, and only to me. You will hear many things here. There will be growing agitation, there will be shouts and cries. You will hear the sound of anger and anguish in my siblings’ voices. You will hear Ymir, and the wrath that defines her. But none of this matters. None of it can touch you, as long as you do not look at them. No one can hurt you, not on those grounds. Not if you keep your eyes closed. Do you understand me?”

He did not answer, his body still within your arms.

You continued, “You are not a threat to them. You are not a threat to them at all. It is not you they will fear, and their anger won’t be directed at you. All the actions that brought us here — I am the one responsible. And if Ymir once tried to erase my existence, she wouldn't dare risk it a second time, not in front of all of us. She can't hurt you, as long as you listen to me. You must listen only to me.”

As you spoke, you felt the weight of every word, the fragility of every promise you were making to him.

In one slow, deliberate movement, he nodded : “Only to you."

“Only to me,” you whispered to him. “No matter what you hear. She will try to trick you — there will be sounds, echoes of things that never happened, that will never happen. She will feed on your fear. She will try to make you look. She will try to find a way to punish you for standing on those grounds. But you are safe as long as I am with you. As long as you don’t open your eyes.”

He nodded again, his head heavy against your shoulder.

“Understood.”

“Swear.”

“I swear,” he answered, and in the depths of his voice, you swore you could hear the faintest trace of a smile.

You breathed out of relief.

It’s going to be alright, you thought. And you wished, wished it so hard. Your heartbeats were erratic.

Before you could respond, Zeke straightened slightly, his eyes squeezed shut, small wrinkles forming on his face. His glasses were long gone, lost somewhere on the Surface, buried beneath the ashes and fire. His chest, still bare, was covered in the dried remnants of blood, dark, brownish strains.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice filled with concern, as his hands started roaming on your arms. “Are you hurt, are you ok?” he repeated, fingers searching for something.

“I’m fine,” you said. His hands continued upward, his fingers finding the contour of your face, skimming the curve of your jaw, mapping the shape of your cheekbones. His thumb paused against your left eye. And you watched in silence as the tension in his brow softened, chasing away the worry on his tired face. Then, you remembered.

He had no memory of what had happened in the temple. The last thing he remembered was your unconscious body laying in his arms, mutilated by a mortal weapon. He didn’t know about the corpses in the clearing, the ones buried beneath the snow. He had not glimpsed the silvery hues of wings too wide, a blade too deadly, threatening his life. He had no memory of Levi.

You grabbed Zeke’s wrists, pulling his hands away from your face. The dried blood on them was yours. The same blood that had stained his skin when he first touched you. The one that Ymir was going to claim to erase your offenses.

Your gaze shifted from his face, you slowly lifted your head — to take in your surroundings, expecting to face her.

But as you forced your eyes to adjust to the blinding light, confusion washed over you.

It was true that you had expected the too-high, too-white walls of Paradis to surround you, but what laid before you was entirely unfamiliar.

The air, heavy and distorted by the heat, made it feel like you were standing on the burning ground of Paradis. But just a few feet ahead, your eyes locked onto the first steps of a broken staircase leading down, towards an endless void.

For miles on end, horizons blurred, mountains half-hidden by clouds, patches of green and blue, where life still clung.

These stairs… Shattered millennia ago — to prevent Mankind from ever walking on Paradis again. The ruins of a once peaceful world, corrupted by power and violence.

Suddenly, you realized. You were not to face the goddess, not here. Not yet.

For you were standing at the edge of the world. Where it all began.

“You were right.”

The voice sliced through the heavy air.

You both startled. Zeke straightened up instantly, grabbing your arm. As his body leant into you, the only thought that came to your mind was that he was going to open his eyes. That, of all the children of Ymir, his eyes would fall on him.

Your hand shot up instinctively to his face, to cover his eyes. But as your fingers brushed against his skin, his eyes remained closed, pupils hidden behind his closed lids. Safe. Instead, Zeke slowly lowered his head. His hand came to yours, grasping it tightly. You could feel every muscle in his body tense, every inch of him alert. Awaken for good, his entire being was focused on the voice, on the presence behind you.

Still seated, you turned slowly as the figure came into full view.

Levi stood motionless, his whole figure covered in black. The fairness of his skin was swallowed by his attire, shrouding him entirely right down to his fingertips. Most of his face was hidden behind loose jet-black locks, but they barely concealed the gleam of his silver eyes. In his back, folded neatly, silver wings gave a glimpse of their immensity.

And yet, as you looked at him now, you felt no fear.

No blade was raised to strike you down. No world was drowning in the eternal snow of his powers. You no longer dreaded the sharpness of his words, nor the consequence of his wrath. None of it frightened you.

Everything about him, about this moment, felt different. He seemed... small. Insignificant. Insignificant against the white immensity all around you. Insignificant at the foot of the majestic Gates of Paradise.

Your gaze shifted past him, to the Gates themselves. The only gateway to holy ground, to the home of the goddess. They loomed behind him, so close, yet impossibly distant. Carved from gold and ancient wood, they struck your gaze with frightful violence. For never had you seen them from this side. Never had you seen them closed before you. Your breath hitched. On the other side of the Gates was the place where you had lost yourself. Where the eternal yearning for existence had consumed you. Where you had fallen, stripped of your purpose under the watchful eye of Ymir.

As those gates, those same gates that now stood sealed, had been torn open by corrupted forces.

You remembered it all.

Every moment.

Every sensation.

The fear.

The fear you felt, coursing through your veins as sinuous forms slithered across the sacred lands. You remembered it all too clearly — the trembling as you stood in front of the gates, the weight of your duty pressing down on you.

The seal.

You felt it give way, breaking under the relentless assault. And you stood alone, facing chaos.

Screaming for help. But no one came.

Then, it happened—the crack of wood, the groan of ancient gold giving way. When their gruesome bodies finally tore through the once-impenetrable gates, their thick, suffocating essence seeped into the grooves, invading the sacred air.

And your spear sprang to life in your hand — the only weapon you had ever wielded. Its familiar weight grounded you, ready to fulfill the purpose that She had carved into you. Prepared to let their cursed blood spill onto the sacred soil, to banish them to the void from which they had crawled.

They were the defeated.

Millennia ago, they had been mortal souls, just like you. They had been mortal men — arrogant, ambitious, and unrepentant in their rebellion against the Goddess. They had been fathers, brothers and sons, and their pride had driven them to challenge the power of the Goddess, the only Being capable of creation itself.

And for their transgressions, they had been cast out, banished to the edges of the world, left to decay in eternal suffering.

Yet, somehow, they had returned.

Fueled by millennia of hatred, sharpened by vengeful desire, they had clawed their way back to the Goddess’ lands. Punished by the world's only Creator, its only Master.

How had they done it?

How had they eluded Her watchful eye, slipping past Her will?

And worse still—how had they deceived their guardian in Death?

“You said you couldn’t come back."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of Levi's voice. He had spoken without looking at you. "You were right," he said.

He seemed so distant, as if lost in the dance of light and reflections of gold and silver swirling around him. You couldn’t grasp what he meant. Nothing made sense anymore.

"What do you mean?" you said. Zeke's body flinched as you spoke.

Finally, Levi raised his gaze to meet yours. And there, you saw a flicker of disgust in his eyes, as two cold, flickering flames.

"No matter how hard I try,” Levi’s voice echoed, “the Gates won't open for you.”

It hit you like a bow.

The last sanctuary in this world, the refuge for the children of yesteryears. Ymir’s sacred, eternal domain, its colossal Gates, eternally sealed off from Mankind. They would not open. Not for you, not anymore.

“Then leave me,” you said.

It was a hoarse, cracked sound that came out of your mouth. It almost came out as a plea, but you couldn’t bear to show weakness — not now, not in front of him.

Levi’s head lowered, and the world around you seemed to shrink. His figure became smaller, more distant, as he stood there in silence. He sighed.

He began to walk towards you. Each step deliberate. There was no urgency in his movement.

“Let me go,” you said again.

But everything, everything around you had a bitter taste of déjà vu, the air itself carrying the fragments of an all-too-vivid memory. Him — walking towards you. Ominous.

“There is still time,” you said, but your voice seemed to die in a whisper, too fragile to carry out to him. “It's not too late, Levi.”

The moment you spoke his name, Zeke’s body froze.

You didn’t want him near you.

Levi, the Angel of death. The one whose name was etched in the scripture, revered and feared in equal measure. The only one of you all named in Zeke’s old books. The one who stood between life and oblivion — the Guardian of the Dead.

Zeke’s grip on your hand tightened to the point it almost hurt, the pressure of his pulse against your skin intertwined with your own in a chaotic, distorted symphony in your head.

“You can still let me go,” you said. “Just leave me here. Abandon me to wander the Surface until their curse takes me, as it takes all mortals.”

Levi stopped before you. He didn’t speak.

Eyes dark still, he said nothing.

Slowly, he reached out a hand.

That hand — the way it had reached for you once as you had fallen. His scream, unrelenting, as he tried to grasp you. This hand, reaching out as far as it could. You remembered the emptiness of your own hand as you had reached back.

This time, there were a lot of things you could do.

This time, you could take his hand. You could reach for him. You could choose him. Choose to stay by his side, forever and ever, hidden in the shadow of his eternal existence.

But you did not move.

So, his hand came to you, slow. The soft tips of his fingers grazed your face. They cupped your left cheek, and the sensation of his touch against your skin was nothing short of agonizing, his fingers burning against your flesh. It clawed at your guts, pulling threads of disgust.

He was towering over you, his whole body demanding. Your stomach churned.

You thought he would let go of you. But he was not one to relent, you realized.

His hand suddenly tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to meet the storm in his eyes.

You dived in the silver of his eyes as he spoke, voice low and devastating.

“It was never an option. You know it.”

Your breath stuck in your throat.

The gut-wrenching simplicity with which he had spoken these words. As an obvious fact. As if you were nothing but a requirement. A possession. As if you never had a choice, as if it didn't matter what you desired. As if everything that you were belonged to him, and him alone, to enjoy until the end of time.

This was what the goddess had always wanted. Beings molded to serve her desires, interchangeable and silent, willing to die to her satisfaction. And for so long you had played the part, dutifully, obedient.

But he had made you the object of his affection, far more precious than what you were supposed to be. And for so long you had given it back to him. Now, he was claiming his due.

You should have known.

You should have known that he would never let you go.

That the person who had torn through the threads of existence to reach you, would never stop.

His fingers dug around your face, tightening their grip, urging your head upwards. A quick tap under your chin to get your eyes off the ground — to capture your gaze.

But when your eyes finally met his, you saw nothing. Nothing of him, nothing of the love you once bore him. Nothing of that flicker of warmth that used to linger in your chest. Nothing but the anger he inspired in you, the growing hatred for his silver-glimmering eyes.

What you wanted was not in his face.

The thing you wanted most in the world, the one he had denied you, was right there, in your arms. Exhausted and frightened like a prey through the darkness of the forest. His eyes tightly shut in the face of this madness. His face in your shoulder, his frozen body pressed against yours. His soft skin, and the words of love he had once whispered against your body. His promises and his heart. It was all there.

You refused to be satisfied with anything less after having lived, after having loved so ardently. You would never again bow to their will, never again be touched, manipulated, prodded at their whim. Never again did you want his eyes on you, his fingers on your skin.

With a sharp, resounding slap, you swatted his hand away.

"You've taken everything," you said, words spilling out of your mouth. "Everything I was. Everything I thought I could be."

The anger swelled inside you, clawing at your chest. Zeke’s grip on your arm was tight, his presence faint. It was not enough to appease you.

"You're angry," Levi murmured, as if acknowledging would smooth you, "but you can't—...”

“I don’t want this!” you spat, and rage was spreading inside of you, like a wildfire. “What if I don’t want this?”

Levi recoiled slightly, taken aback by your sudden outburst.

The memory of a boy’s lifeless body among the tall grass stoked the flames in you, growing with hatred. As the image burned deeper, your stomach twisted, bile rising at the memory.

You had never had a choice.

“When do I get to choose?” you screamed, your voice echoing everywhere around you.

“Why do you keep on running away from me?” he screamed back at you. “Why do you insist on choosing a path that leads only to suffering?”

You felt it then, the familiar surge of power, the tingle at the tips of your fingers. The same force that had awakened in the clearing.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” you cried, voice eventually breaking with desperation. “You know what will happen! You know the punishment—...”

“She will forgive you!” he roared, face contorting in tune with anger. “She will forgive you, just as I forgive you.” Every word was pouring out of him, as if he had been trying to get through to you this whole time, as if he'd been waiting. “Show your loyalty — show remorse, and all will be well!”

There was no point fighting him anymore. He was not listening—he never had.

“I don't feel anything of the sort,” you said with a snarl.

It took nothing but an instant for the words to strike him. You watched his face crumple as the sentence settled between the two of you.

Levi’s hand came to his face. He sighed, lowered his head, watching you from beneath lowered brows. You grabbed Zeke’s arm by instinct.

You watched as his hand slowly ran through his locks.

“Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?”

"Don't make me ask again, Levi,” you said. “Just let us go.”

It saddened you to realize only now, that rage suited him so well. That the disgust on his face seemed so natural and that his eyes had never seemed more alive now that they were consumed by anger.

“It’s too late,” he breathed. There was no more time for excuses, no more time for begging. He took a step back, his eyes finally leaving you. “She is already coming.”

Levi's wings flared open behind his back.

And with a deafening crash, the Gates flew open.

Violent gust of wind slapped you with fire, while before you laid the view of the gardens of Paradis. All of it, shining so brightly, heavenly views of everlasting flowers glowing with dew, walls so high that no one could ever escape from the land of the goddess. This landscape, infused with bright colors, hues of yellow and pink, shades of forgotten seasons and smells of yesteryear lands. You would never have thought that such a view would inspire you with nothing but raw fear.

It’s too late. She’s coming.

There was no other option. It was the price you had to pay for refusing to die that day on the Surface. It was the sentence for having loved and for having, at last, awakened to your own senses.

It was the moment you had longed for for so long.

Bathed in the light pouring from behind him, you could barely make out the contours of his body. Levi stood there, unmoving before the absurdity, the sole obstacle between you and the abode of Ymir. The last guardian, the one alone who grants death.

In the splendor of his unwavering loyalty, stood the sole master of the Underworld.

Her favorite child, the most obedient of you all. The one spared from eternal slumber, destined instead to witness the inevitable demise of her creation.

The only child of the goddess powerful enough to ever raise an army.

Levi.

You had never known before, the true intentions that drove him, nor the grand designs of the goddess. What role he played in this bloody masquerade. Slowly, however, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

"Do not take pride in what you have done,” you hissed at him, face scorched by the fiery air.

Time was running out.

Soon. It would start soon.

Blazing with fury, you uttered one last thing to him : “You are nothing but an executioner."

You could have sworn you saw him flinch.

And the ground shifted beneath your legs. Brutally, both you and Zeke were thrown against the burning floor, your faces hitting rock hard against it. You instinctively made a move to catch him, your whole body suddenly taut, but everything was set in motion. His hand slipped away from yours, skins tearing apart. And bodies were tugged onward across the blazing ground.

It was like the irresistible force of gravity, pulling and pulling you, and no matter how hard you struggled to move or reach for his arm, unrelenting force weighted down your whole body. A never ending fall, dragged on the ground like an ancient hero's corpse behind a chariot. It was humiliation, an attempt to assert control and dominance -the searing of the ground against your skin, the groaning of your bones, the scalding light blinding your eyes, the relentless speed, the fervent motion- all of it was all pure violence.

You had all of a blink to see the interminable walls of Paradis flashing before you. Every bone in your body shaking under the pressure of the speed, your mind going blank with pain, lungs compressed, and wings yanked from your back. Somewhere behind you, you imagined Zeke’s exhausted body beaten by the momentum, punished for a crime he didn't commit. You imagined the burning of the ground against his skin, and the fear, the fear instilling, behind his closed eyes — he had promised to keep his eyes closed, and in a world plunged in darkness, pain was all the greater.

It felt like an eternity, and the burning against your skin soon began to fade, as if your body was rejecting the pain. Everything started to crystallize around that pain, around the precise moment it all finally came to a stop. The finality of a never-ending fall, the gruesome brutality, when the flesh meets the ground, the shock shattering the bones. It was the end of it, the beginning of a punishment. You knew that this was where it was all about to start.

And you were pure fire.

With trembling limbs, you tried to push on your elbows, but the movement was cruel, your whole body pinned against the ground, fighting against the relentless power that held you down. The taste of metal and blood filled your mouth, your body quivering, with pain, with anticipation. But there, in the heart of the goddess’ lands, the echoes of a forgotten force, once defeated, began to rekindle within you once again.

Your neck and back muscles groaned under the effort. You lifted your head, and the movements inflamed you a bit more as you began to move, as if awakened from a nightmare. And when your eyes finally set on her, your whole body screamed. The fire burned harder on your skin, merging with the pain, becoming indistinguishable from one another.

Before you, seated on a throne of gold and opal, was Ymir.

Bathed in golden light, her colossal silhouette appeared like an illusion in the light. The eldest queen of this world, her face serene, her head gently nodding against the hand on which she rested. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted.

She looked so peaceful, almost... asleep. Like a weary child about to drift off into the realm of dreams.

The Mother of all things. The one who, threatened by Mankind, had cursed them and banished them from the world she had created for them. The one who had saved you and your siblings, once dying mortal children, from destruction and death by granting you wings and weapons too heavy and deadly for your once little hands. The one who had made you swear to forever despite the blood of your fathers, and that of Mankind.

In a languid gesture, Ymir held out her hand. Indifferent. Her eyes remained shut as she spoke.

“Child.”

And every syllable, every sound that escaped her lips reverberated inside your mind. You winced from the light coming out of her, from the echoing sound of her voice within you.

“Oh,” she drawled, “My dearest child.”

Liar, sweet tongue liar.

Anticipation gnawed at your core - at last, the time had come. The time for answers, the time for truth.

“You are standing alive before Me.”

And you were not breathing anymore. Her stifling presence, her effortless grace - all held you in rapt stillness. Her eyes closed, as if she was refusing to lay them on you until she heard you, until she was to decide if you were worthy of her gaze. Yet she knew it was you. It was as if the heart pounding wildly in your chest belonged to her, as if the blood coursing through your veins was hers to command.

“How I missed you.”

And all of this was so wrong, all games to her. She was sovereign of all things, unafraid and languid in her deceit. She was lying, as if everything that had unfolded so far had been unexpected, as if she had truly been waiting for your return.

Her face stretched into a grin. A wicked smile, only for you to see. A wave of revulsion surged through you, forced to kneel before her throne, before her power.

Behind you, the sound of rustling clothes.

Your bones groaned as you turned your face toward the sound, toward—...

Zeke.

Levi was approaching, dragging Zeke’s motionless body on the ground. With each step he took in your direction, something crawled under your skin, the simmering heat building up again as he drew nearer.

Shadows swirled behind his shoulders with every step he took. He stopped next to you, his figure towering above you. In a single movement, he discarded Zeke’s body on the ground next to you. His face stoic, he wiped his hand on his clothes as if stained by the touch of him.

Slowly, you pushed on your knees, body protesting with every inch as you stretched out your arm, fingers trembling as they reached out to him.

With utmost care, you cupped Zeke’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. Pale— too pale. His skin, blooming with bruises, streaked with blood. He appeared to be unconscious, his mind numbed to cope with the relentless assault of momentum. But at the touch of your fingers, his brow twitched, and he groaned quietly. A strained smile appeared on his face, his cheek pushing against your hands.

And just like he swore he would, his eyes remained closed.

You pulled him onto your lap— hands cradling his limp form, fingers gripping his shoulders, supporting his weight. There, against you, his head leaning against your chest. Safe.

“My favorite, favorite child…” Ymir drawled, her voice echoing everywhere against white stone. You didn’t even bother to look at her as your eyes met Levi’s.

He was watching you, watching your every delicate gesture, the protective embrace of your arms around Zeke’s body. The silver gleam in his eyes was dimmed, his whole body tense. He was only looking at you, standing very still. And in his eyes, you could almost read a warning.

Something was wrong.

Him, standing alone in this white immensity. Him, suddenly looking so lonely.

Something was missing. It hit you suddenly — the lack of sound, the disconcerting silence hanging heavily in the air.

You remembered this place. A hazy memory of whispers and hummed songs forming a comforting backdrop to your slumber.

You strained your ears, desperately searching for any hint of a sound, a flutter of wings, anything to break this silence, so abrupt and absolute. But there was nothing, only the unsettling feeling that the world had momentarily lost its voice.

Realization crept over you as your eyes returned to Ymir’s languid silhouette.

“Where are they?” you whispered.

Levi was barely breathing — barely moving.

The goddess lifted her chin at you. “Do not fret, young one.”

But none of your brothers and sisters had ever come down looking for you. No fragment of their power, searching the far reaches of the Surface, had ever been echoing inside of you.

Because all of this had never been anything more than an elaborate performance.

Yet you had believed—…

You had believed that it was about you.

That it was you she wanted to get rid of. You had supposed it, had thought you had grasped her terrible plan — understanding that she sought to erase everything, that her millennia-long boredom would condemn you all. You had spat it in Levi's face, back in the temple. You had warned him — as if he had no clue. But since the beginning…

“Where are they?” you asked again, voice echoing.

As if you did not know. As if the truth was not meant to destroy you.

“It was the deal, dearest. All of them,” she said, “expect you.”

And with her words, she finally opened her eyes.

Eyes of blazing gold, burning with power, as the sun scorches the earth and incinerates life.

Those same mighty and indifferent eyes, which you knew had watched the Gates ceding, had watched numb bodies awakening from eternal sleep, hands grasping the weapons she had once gifted you. Knowing full well the legions invading her own lands would slaughter you all.

You had been the only one to fall. And there, on the immaculate ground of Paradis, you could almost see the stains of blood washed over by the relentless sun.

Slaughtered, like mere cattle. She had watched them all die, while you, believing yourself doomed, had fallen. She had welcomed a morbid army into her abode while the sole guardian of Death had averted his gaze.

The only one standing by your side when you had lost your balance. The only one who screamed as an arrow pierced your throat, robbing you of words and hope. The only one indispensable for the execution of her plan. The most powerful among you all.

You were never supposed to die that day. Levi would never have allowed it — and that was the deal they had agreed upon. All of them, except you.

A lick of cold kissed down your spine.

She was staring at Levi, the softness of her gaze clashing with the smirk on her face.

“You made him unleash an army,” you said, carefully, “to kill us all?” — a question that didn't require an answer.

“Oh, no,” she sighed. “One ought not say ‘kill’…” Her head now rested heavily against her arm. She was already getting bored. “How did I phrase it again, dearest?”

The dormant fire within you was burning brighter and hotter than ever before. Your vision blurred, sounds became indistinct, afar, and every muscle in your body tingled.

You felt Levi’s gaze on you, his body twitching and his voice was so low, he must have talked only for you to hear.

“You said you wished to dispose of them, Mother.”

Horror —undistilled and bottomless horror— slammed into you.

"Right…” And her amused eyes fell on you again.

Fire devouring fire. It coursed through you, power surging back from deep within, fueled by the horror.

"You,” Ymir purred, pointing a long finger at you, "who thought yourself abandoned by your own Mother. You, who traded your pure nature for some mortal pleasure — at last, you stand before Me. Oh, I have been waiting for you…"

And that arrow that had pierced your throat, she could have fired it herself. She could have plunged her delicate fingers into your flesh until she tore out your heart, ripped out your wings against the opal walls, and it would have changed nothing.

"When I think," she carried on, "of all the things he has given for you to live. All the sacrifices he has made — so that you could stay with him."

And with an amused smile, she sighed. "What a capricious pest you are…"

Scraping of power burning in your hand. This time, you knew that when you were to call for it, your spear would come.

"Yet, there is no hint of guilt within you, child, is there? Otherwise, how could you dare stand before Me, holding your little…" She purred, "souvenir."

Your wings unfurled violently. Each feather trembled with energy, stretching wide and strong, casting a shadow over the ground, over Zeke’s body in your arms.

For a split second, you saw something flash in her golden eyes. Something you had never seen upon her bored face. Images rushed through your mind — those of the woman standing in the clearing, Colt’s blood coating your hands. The look she had given you when she had realized what she had done. Who you were. When the power had unleashed, when she understood you were going to kill her.

And Ymir was watching, watching the fire leaking, spreading. Her eyes were on you as you felt a sneer whisper out of you. It was rasping and raw — uncontrollable.

"I dare you." And your voice was louder than hers, edged by hysteria. She was still as death. "I dare you to even try to lay a finger on him."

The gold of her eyes dropped towards your hand, towards the object now shining in your clenched fist.

Your heart tightened as your fingers gripped the ancient, long wooden shaft tightly. Its weight, its sensation were like the first breath of air after nearly drowning. The tip of your spear was glowing with the glorious light all around you.

Her face twisted, her torpid body going taut.

"You dare me…?" Ymir said, and frozen wrath was pouring out of her.

There was something ancient, and ardent, and so vicious that surged within you, honing your focus into clarity. If you were to face her, if you wanted to shatter her plan… You would become a figment of light as well.

She abruptly rose from her throne, staggering with fury and golden light rippled everywhere from her colossal silhouette.

"You dare me, you insignificant, depraved defect?"

You would become a figment of light, a figment of power. There was nothing you could not do — you were immortal by design.

She held out a hand. Pointed one finger at you.

One finger, a curse and a damning. And the light, the light all around you, surged to her fingertip, like sunlight chases away the night. Heat converged, and power coalesced to that focal point.

"No one dares me, you useless whore" she shrieked.

You heard Levi scream, sensed him stepping toward you. You catch a glimpse of his movement — too late. A blast of white, pure light exploded all around, frozen fire flared, engulfing the entire room.

All it took was a second, a split second, just before you were to be consumed entirely, a moment before the fire was to devour your whole essence — you extended your arm. The movement of your body, the stretching of your muscles. Every cell of your being condensed in a throw. In your back, wings beat violently — once. Only once. Sharp as a razor's edge, resentment and anger fueling your arms ablaze. With a low, precise hiss, the spear shot forward, tearing free from your hand.

But blue flames were already licking your skin, shouting inside your soul.

And at the heart of that light, you ceased to exist.

You were unraveling. The immortality she had once bestowed upon you, she unraveled it like a weaver. Like a thread on a loom, racing swiftly beneath ancient, skillful fingers in the art of making and remaking. A vast tapestry, its threads pulled again and again and again, erasing the patterns and the colors, erasing the time and the thoughts that made it whole.

This thread that was yours, endless in life, endless in sorrow. A thread so long that a thousand times you longed to tear it, yet bound to its eternity in a tight and inextricable way.

It was your life unfolding, playing out before your eyes, in reverse. You saw Zeke’s weary silhouette kneeling in the shadow and snow falling upon the world. The blood and the lifeless body of a boy in the clearing. A fire and a shattered cup of tea on the floor. You saw your own body surrendering to love, and the man you inevitably loved offering himself to you in turn. You saw two souls dancing gently in the half-light, accompanied by distant music, and an abandoned orchard. A hill and heavy rainfall on a bicycle. Hands tending to your broken wing and fingers delicately caressing the feathers. A bandage wrapped around your neck and a needle piercing your skin to mend it. And then, the familiar silver of frightened eyes, the terror of witnessing love and life being torn away from him as your body was falling down, casted out. The darkness of his being and his eternal duty.

As if summoned from the depths of your being, as if implored to exist as to remember the pain it was to live, to feel, threads of darkness began to swirl the white emptiness before your eyes.

At first, they moved slowly, outlining the edges. Then they became insidious, eroding the light. They were morphing and growing, like roots searching for the source of life. The threads turned into veins on a weary face, sinuous veins of shadow pulsating with darkness and devouring the light.

The vastness started to collapse, as if smothered beneath the shadow. The frozen fire gave way to the warmth of your own body, of the one lying still within your arms. And before you, the world slowly returned to its original hues.

Before your eyes, it was as if Ymir had vanished. The goddess adorned in gold and light, colossal and vibrant with power that stood there a moment ago, had given way to a child.

She was on her knees, sprawled against the foot of her throne, a hand hovering over her right arm. Crimson blood was gushing everywhere, dripping down her skin, leaking on the floor. Her face was disfigured by anger, her mouth twisted by a scream she could not utter.

Behind her, deeply embedded in the wood and in the flesh of her arm, was your spear.

And the entirety of her exposed skin was covered with black veins.

Then, from her mouth twisted by wrath, came a scream. Deafening, hoarse, inhuman howl. It was the cry of a wounded animal being torn from life, the cry of the creator of the world, suddenly so small before her creation.

The walls cracked, the world trembling before her. Agonizing, she who had once cursed the mortal lands was now on the ground, her blood pooling the white stone.

Her eyes were fixed behind you.

Carefully, you turned your head.

Levi stood a few feet away. His face was a mirror of hers.

Stained with the same black veins, the same threads of darkness that had stolen the deadly light. Sinuous veins of shadow that had torn you from the goddess's irrevocable sentence.

His chest rose and fell in an unusual rhythm. Dark droplets were dripping from his fingers.

And Levi was only staring at you.

Worlds colliding, in those eyes. The weight of rules shattering, of roles reversing. Everything that made him whole, everything that made him —from the moment he was born on the Surface— was boiling down to this very instant.

Around you, the world had turned gray.

The light died. A snowflake slid against your cheek.

He was looking at you, silver eyes seeming scared. They dropped to the ground.

Your eyes slowly fell upon the heavy body in your arms.

What struck you first was the chilling stillness settled upon Zeke's body in your arms. Soft skin feeling suddenly so cold.

"I should never have allowed it!" Ymir screamed, her voice faint, distant, distorted by the echo, devoid of any power.

You always had been cold on the Surface, so far away from the sun. No matter the heavy, rough woolen garments on your shoulders, the crackling flames in the fireplaces, or the hot ceramic of the teacups once boiling water had been poured into them, there had always been that residual coldness on your skin. Yet, you could not remember being this cold. It was different here, it was different. He was not supposed to be this cold.

"Never, never, never!" the child screamed, far away, so far away.

Carefully, you brushed aside a lock of his flaxen hair. His skin was not only cold — his skin was pallid. Drained of colors. And the warmth that once radiated from his body had dissipated, leaving only a coldness that seeped right into you.

"I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance!"

Bruises everywhere on his body. And there, on his cheekbone, perhaps still ash. The frozen streams of his veins under his translucent skin. Shades of soft blue and gray upon his face, a pale echo of his eyes.

Closed eyes.

He had kept them closed. Like he swore he would.

You were no longer breathing. And all around you, the child kept on screaming. She screamed, screamed at the failure unfolding before her eyes. At the absurdity of you all.

And you, you were no longer breathing.

In your arms, laid your love.

Something came out of your throat. A scream, or a sob. You couldn’t know, you could not hear. It could not silence the ringing in your eyes, the shakes of your muscles.

In your arms.

He used to be broken. He was once a dying boy. He had survived in the lies of his ancestors, in the wars of Mankind. They had forgotten why they were slaughtering each other. They never knew. He went on battlefields, young and hopeful. He had come back, dying and broken. He found faith, he thought it was salvation, that he would make this world a better place. He found you. He gave you a meaning, something to reach for.

And now he was gone.

The noise died in your throat. It died, once it took all of the air inside your lungs, once it had drained you of all breaths. The world was afloat. The world was drifting away.

The ocean was calm. The ocean was dead calm.

You felt her before you saw her.

She made a movement to stand up — one foot on the ground. Her knee against the floor. Before even thinking about it, you raised your hand, your spear pulled itself out of the wood —out of her flesh— tearing a sharp cry of pain from her. It crossed the distance between you, came slamming into the palm of your hand.

Burning air filled your lungs.

A breath, like never before.

She slowly rose to her feet, rage, rage everywhere on her childish face. She stumbled. Raised her head again. Her mouth moved, as if to speak. Then came the words.

Ancient words trembling on her lips.

"Dies iræ, dies illa"

Her eyes were filled with defiance and fear. They locked onto yours.

"Solvet sæclum in favilla."

Ancient words you had heard only once, long ago. Words woven in doom, to brand the guilty, to cast them into exile.

To tear their wings apart, shatter their mind, and condemn them to the darkest reaches of the world, for eternity.

She took a shuddering breath, her gaze unwavering. "The day of wrath, that day," she repeated softly, "will dissolve the world in ashes."

And all around her, the grounds began to crack again. Spreading in every direction, abysses of darkness. The air turned scorching, snow and heat distorting her silhouette.

She held out a hand.

"Give them back." Her voice was nothing more than an echo.

Your hands eased around Zeke’s body in your arms, slowly, you let go of him. You let him slip from your embrace, settling delicately upon the frozen ground. Silver snowflakes crashed against his ashen skin.

You rose to your feet.

Stepped forward.

Her voice rang out, urgency tinting the words : "I shall reclaim the wings I once bestowed upon you."

Your feet started pounding against the ground. Faster.

"May they wither and rot!"

Her fingers curled, slow and deliberate.

"May they inflict eternal agony upon your body, until the decay reaches your very heart..."

You were running. Muscles stretched taut, fire surging through your veins. In your back, your wings were burning.

Your arm lifted, the spear steady in your grasp, its tips locked onto her heart. Once more, your wings lashed against the air.

Her fingers curled into a fist — sealing the curse.

The spear cut through the air with a sharp hiss.

And in your back, flesh and feather tore apart.

[denbprikola]

holy shit it's Zeke

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐈)

[panel reads from right to left]

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This was initially parts 1 and 2, but I decided to combine them. [ SYNOPSIS ] Summer is approaching and you desire to attend class like a good student is dwindling. You decide to ditch class and soak up the sun (okay, Sheryl Crow), but end up face-to-face with star pitcher, Zeke Yeager, who has similar plans. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.8k [ CONTENT ] High school AU, cigarettes, poor school attendance, Grisha's a shitty dad, and you have to ride a bike up a steep ass hill.

“Wait, so you’re really going to ditch?” Pieck asked.

She was always unimpressed with your life choices though her judgment did little to stop you. You haphazardly tossed your physics textbook in your locker and slammed it shut.

“It’s Friday. What could I possibly miss?”

Pieck sighed. “I don’t know, a pop quiz?”

“A pop quiz? I don’t think I’ve ever had a pop quiz in my academic career.”

“We’ve definitely had them.”

“Okay, but who actually calls them that? It’s not like we live in a John Hughes movie.”

You both headed down the hall, towards the back of the school. It was the easiest way to escape the campus. All the other openings were patrolled by the one lazy campus cop that spent his time harassing students for no good reason.

“I guess this is where we part then,” Pieck muttered. “I’ll let you know if you miss anything…” 

She wandered off, angry you’d be letting her suffer in physics class all alone.

“Sorry!” You waved, hoping she’d turn around. But she never did.

You pushed through the double doors and relished in the sunlight kissing your skin. It was 90 degrees but a cool breeze tempered the heat. A perfect day in June.

You looked around, not a soul in sight. You crept past a couple beige portables the school built three years ago.

“… I thought portables were supposed to be temporary,” you mumbled under your breath once you cleared the area.

“They just tell us that to placate us.”

You whipped around to see star pitcher and general nuisance, Zeke Yeager, laying down in the grass. He was wearing his cream colored fitted baseball pants; the knees strained with brown dirt. He wore a tight white t-shirt tucked into his pants with a black belt. He sat up, and lit a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses, and looked you up and down.

“Don’t you have class?” He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke in your general direction.

“I could easily ask you the same thing.”

“Feel free.”

“Don’t you have cl—”

“Oh yeah, I had physics but I decided to skip it today. Do I really need to learn about gravity if I already deal with it everyday?”

You gave him a quizzical look. He could not have been this dense. His grey eyes met yours; his gaze was intense.

“I’m kidding.”

You stood around awkwardly. Part of you wanted to peace out and let this talking ashtray go back to laying on the field. But the other part was transfixed by his demeanor.

“I figured. You don’t look that stupid,” you said.

“What class are you ditching?”

You dropped your backpack and sat next to Zeke, making sure to keep some distance from him. He was cute and it made you woefully nervous.

“Anatomy.”

“Lame. I would’ve ditched too.”

Zeke was notorious for his shitty attendance. He was perpetually ten minutes late. And he ditched class whenever he felt like it. No one gave him any shit though because he was on the baseball team. Your high school followed the classic rule: athletes can basically do whatever the fuck they want so long as they don’t fail their courses.

That was something Zeke never needed to worry about. He was intelligent, one of the smartest boys in your class. He had never gotten a single F in his life. You only knew this because people tended to talk about him in the halls. He wasn’t popular by any means, but everyone knew him. He was the best pitcher on the team. He frequently got caught smoking cigarettes in the bathroom. He got invited to all the parties.

“What class would you not ditch?” You questioned.

He lit another cigarette with the cherry end of his previous one.

“I don’t know. I like lit and film a lot.”

Your jaw dropped.

“I wanted to get into that class so bad!”

He snickered. “What did you get instead?”

“… Multicultural lit. Also known as, let’s read books from Western European countries because that’s so multicultural. I fail to recognize how reading a bunch of books by old white men is multicultural in any sense.”

“Are you implying white men operate under a universal culture?”

“And if I am?”

He took a drag. “You’re a genius.”

Your face grew hot. No one had ever called you a genius before, jokingly or not.

“Th—thanks.”

“Yeah, most of my teammates got into lit and film pretty easy, but you know… Privilege.”

You couldn’t hide your distaste. “It’s bullshit.”

“Oh, no! You’re absolutely right. I assure you I am the only one in there that knows we have a 12 page paper on Rashomon due next week.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “See! I want to write an essay on Kurosawa!”

He laughed. “You can write mine, if you want.”

You looked at him, completely dumbfounded.

“Ew, no.”

He playfully elbowed you in the ribs.

“I figured it was worth a shot. You want one?”

He offered you a cigarette. It was one of those weird brown ones, no filter. You’d only smoked once at a party. You had chugged three light beers and decided to bum one off of a rando. A menthol. It didn’t vibe with your lungs to say the least.

But for whatever reason, you said, “Sure.”

He handed you one and you were puzzled. You examined both ends, not sure which one you should light.

“Here,” he said softly.

He plucked the cigarettes from your hands and held it to your lips. His face was so close to yours, you thought you would die right then and there. You parted your lips and accepted the cigarette. He held a lighter to the end.

“Inhale,” he commanded.

You did and immediately coughed.

“Shit, my throat,” you choked out.

He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud father.

“Feels good, right?”

“Hardly.” You took another drag and coughed.

“Are you trying to look cool for me, kiddo?”

“No,” you gasped.

He squeezed your shoulder and then proceeded to take the cigarette from you.

“You’re too pretty to smoke anyway.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?”

“Are you implying that I’m pretty?” you parroted back.

He blushed. “It didn’t imply it so much as directly admit it,” he laughed.

“What the fuck is going on here? Yeager, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

It was the campus cop.  You panicked. You weren't a little miss perfect type, but you would be grounded for a month if you got caught cutting class. The cop was far off enough that you could maybe make a break for it. You stared at the gate in the distance. You were fast. And Zeke was an athlete so running should be easy for him. The cop began to lumber towards you both.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, sneakily putting your backpack on.

“What?”

The cop was cresting the hill. You were running out of time.

“Let’s,” you stood up, “go!”

You grabbed Zeke by the wrist and dragged him upright.

“Where?”

You pointed at the gate.

“C’mon, baseball boy, I’m not trying to go to baby jail.”

You both ran towards the gate. You prayed for freedom. You looked back at the cop and finally reached your original location. He stood confused and shouted, “Yeager! Where you going, dude?!”

“Dude?” you panted. You don’t know what possessed you to speak while running for your life.

“Yeah, he tries to act like we’re cool. It’s odd.”

You stopped once you reached the gate. You slid through the opening and ended up in a residential area. You were both catching your breath when you noticed you were still holding onto him.

“Oh fuck, my bad.”

“Huh?” He looked down at his wrist. “Oh! Ha, you’re fine. I didn’t mind your gorilla grip. I doubt I would’ve ran that fast on my own. I am in sandals.”

He gestured towards his feet, he was in fact wearing Birkenstocks and white gym socks.

“Well, now what?” you pondered.

You examined the row of tract homes, some more derelict than others. Most of the windows were busted in leaving the sidewalk glittered with broken glass. You dragged your foot across the shards, relishing in the noise of it cracking under your weight.

Zeke stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m gonna head home. I wanna nap before practice.”

“Oh,” you said dejectedly.

You were hoping you would go on some sort of adventure together. Maybe grab burritos. Talk more about Kurosawa films. Smoke his fancy cigarettes. Maybe even rest your head on his shoulder.

“But I’m not doing anything after. We might be going kind of late tonight, but if you’re free we should meet up.”

“Really?!” You adjusted your tone so you didn’t sound so eager. “Yeah, I don’t have anything going on so sure.”

“Cool. Here.” He handed you his phone. “Add your number.”

You added your number to his contacts list.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, handing his phone back to him.

“Not sure, but you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He punctuated the sentence with a wink and walked off.

You sighed and decided to head home. You were a latchkey kid so it’s not like anyone would be waiting for you. Halfway through your journey your phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession. You checked it and saw messages from an unknown number:

you’re not gonna be one of those gorgeous girls that ghosts me, right? sorry that sounds so pathetic. promise i’m not one of those guys that get butthurt over a girl i’m looking forward to hanging out lol SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death.

Ghosting Zeke did cross your mind, mostly because you wanted to beat him to the punch. You found it hard to believe he wanted anything to do with you. It wasn’t a lack of confidence on your part; you knew you were hot shit. Simply put it all felt absurd, too idyllic. Meet up with him after baseball practice? Ha, sure.

But to your surprise you got a series of texts.

SHIT. sorry if i’m laying it on thick. you looked so cute choking to death. WAS THAT INAPPROPRIATE TO SAY? i feel like it was. was it weird? 😂 hella weird but it's okay for the record that emoji was ironic sure it was. is 8 too late? ... i take it back. i rhymed. we can’t hang out. sorry ⚰️

You opted to call him. The phone rang for what felt like forever

“He would be the type to not answer his—”

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi! Uh,” you spat out in a panic.

Words were a foreign concept. You hadn’t thought about what you’d say after he answered the phone. You weren’t much of a planner evidently.

“Is 8 too la—Nope, not doing it again. Does 8 work for you?”

You smiled at him avoiding the rhyme. His voice radiated pride.

“Nope. I’m not some baby.”

“Never said you were one, kiddo.”

“Kiddo? Really?”

“I said what I said.”

Could he be anymore obnoxious? You shook your head. He probably could.

You sighed. “Whatever. What do you wanna do?”

“Can you ride a bike?”

You paused. “… Yes.”

“Do you have one?”

You thought hard. Your mom had a beat up, turquoise fixed gear she kept in the garage but you couldn’t even remember the last time you rode a bike.

“Yeah, I have my mom’s.”

“Cool. I’ll drop a pin. See you soon, beautiful.”

He hung up before you could even comprehend a word he said. You looked down at your outfit. You felt anything other than beautiful. You got off your bed and walked over to your closet. You eyed a floral-print sundress but shook your head. You barely knew him! It had only been a few hours since you last saw him. You never put this much thought into stuff like this, so why start now? You had every reason in the world to be confident.

But alas, you remained self-conscious. Plagued with insecurity and teenage woe.

“Try hard,” you murmured.

Nothing looked particularly appealing. You were embarrassed it crossed your mind to look cute for Zeke.

“Gross. If anything I should look uglier.”

You decided not to change your outfit. There was no reason to overthink it. You were going biking with the guy and it’s not even like it was a date. He just asked you to hang out in a very flirtatious way.

You ran downstairs and crept into the garage to grab your mom’s bike. As you managed to free it from the closet you knocked over the recycling bin.

“Sweetie, is everything okay out there?”

You panicked. She wouldn’t mind you taking her bike, nor would she mind you going out on a Friday night. But you couldn’t bear the thought of telling her you were going to meet up with a boy. You hit the switch and opened the garage door.

“Yup. Yes. 100%.” You grimaced as you exited. “I’ll be home late. I’ll text you if I die or something.”

“Sounds good.”

And off you went.

You biked to the spot Zeke told you to meet him at. The whole thing felt kind of shady the more you thought about it. It didn’t help that he essentially had you scaling a hill. You knew by the time you got to the top you’d be sweaty. The only thing that kept you sane was knowing he’d likely be gross from baseball practice.

“Fuck,” you panted. “This is so not cool. I can’t believe I let this shithead convince me—”

“Hey there!”

You dropped your concentration for a brief moment and glanced up to see Zeke. He waved manically, clearly hamming it up for you. Typical boy nonsense.

“You’re so close! You can do it!”

You finally reached the top of the hill and leaned your mom’s bike down on the ground. You sat down on the curb and tried to catch your breath.

“Hi,” was all you could cough out.

Zeke sat down beside you. He was still in his baseball uniform. He draped an arm around you, giving you a little squeeze.

“Nice bike!”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. Shockingly he didn’t reek. He smelled like a pleasant combination of peppermint Altoids and additive-free tobacco.

“If I had known you’d be rolling up on a Bianchi I would’ve had us meet on flat land. You could’ve hopped on the back of mine.”

He leaned his head on top of yours. You typically weren’t such a touchy person but something about Zeke leant himself to human contact. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like that. His blonde hair felt like velvet up against your cheek.

“The view is worth it though, right?” he asked, expectantly. 

There was a hint of worry, maybe even desperation to his tone. You stared out at the suburbs, which soon gave way to the city. The lights seemed endless, rows and rows of yellow and white pinpricking the darkness. Suburbia was never very attractive in any sense of the word, but he was right. The view was nice; it had been worth it.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad. How was practice?”

He sighed deeply.

“I’m the only person that showed up on time. No one else had their shit together. My catcher was somehow hungover even though it was a Friday afternoon and he’s barely 18. I got a ball thrown at my ass. My thumb feels weird. And my dad forgot to pick me up… Again.”

“Wow. Uh.” You struggled to find words that would console him.

“Sorry. It was not a good day to say the least.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. It sucks when you’re the only one that gives a shit.”

“No, kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“Kiddo?” you said, voice dripping with disdain.

“See! Sorry for calling you kiddo. Look at all the things I have to apologize for.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He gave you a little cat-like smirk. His grey eyes might as well have been sparkling. He knew he was charming. Boys like him were always the most beguiling. They were the ones you needed to keep an eye on, to keep at an arm’s length.

And yet, here you were with him, staring out into a vast expanse of human civilization with barely any space between you two.

“Apologies accepted then. But in all seriousness, I’m sorry your evening was shit. How did you end up getting home?”

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“I walked,” he said, coolly.

“Far?”

He took a long drag and let the smoke drift out of his mouth.

“Few miles.”

“Well, you seem to be o—”

“I had… all my gear. I told him where to meet me. It’s not like he was clueless.”

“I—”

“But of course he tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. His logic was, ‘It wasn’t a game.’ As if the issue was him not witnessing me play.”

You quickly realized he needed someone to merely listen to him. By look on his face you could tell people didn’t tend to lend him an ear when he needed to vent.

Zeke continued. “It’s... One second I convince myself I don’t care. And then the other… I don’t know.”

You desperately wanted to find the words to make him better. You hated to see anyone in such dire straits.

“I’m sorry your dad is such a fuck.”

He guffawed. “Understatement of the year. I wish I could return him.”

A lightbulb went off in your head. “Return to sender.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and mimicked a call. “Hey, grandpa, yeah, it’s Zeke. Can you take Grisha back?”

“He’s broken; it doesn’t father properly,” you snickered.

“Listen, I know he’s your son but he’s worthless.”

“Every day he finds new ways to disappoint everyone.”

“We thought ruining his first marriage would’ve taught him to do better but here we are.”

“Please take back this ugly man you call your son.”

He snorted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s slow down. I do kind of look like him.”

You stared blankly at him. “All the more reason to stand by what I said.”

You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, fuck, kiddo. You’re too much.”

You punched his arm.

“We’re the same age, aren’t we? You have no reason to call me that.”

“It’s ironic. That’s charming, right? You’re into irony.”

You took a good look at him. He was right; you did have an affinity for irony.

“Charming? You? Ha!” you scoffed.

“I’ll have you know I’m a delight. People love me.”

“Psh.”

Again, he was right. He was endearing, easy to talk to. There was a reason everyone at school knew him. The teachers adored him and sang his praises. Girls whispered about him in the locker room. But oddly enough he wasn’t one of the “popular kids”. People talked about Zeke but they never talked to him. They treated him more as an idea, a concept, rather than a person.

“I’m a treat. You will never convince me otherwise.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t bother. It’d be fruitless,” you said.

“So you’re admitting that I’m charming?”

“I guess.”

A smug expression crept upon his face. If you could’ve taken back those two words, you would have.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said in a singsong voice.

Your eyes widened and your face grew warm. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Wow! Look at us! Two charming friends!” you called out nervously.

Idiot. You didn’t want to be friends! You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, call you kiddo even though it annoyed you, kiss you under the fucking stars! You cursed your mouth for betraying you. It crossed your mind to toss out a casual “jk” but you froze.

However the comment didn’t seem to bother Zeke.

“You know I can’t remember the last time someone actually called me their friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. How embarrassing is that.” He adjusted his glasses; clearly a nervous habit.

“I’ve heard more embarrassing things.”

He smiled. “Oh, good.”

“I don’t have many friends either, if it makes you feel better. I mean, other than Pieck I’m a bit of a loner.”

“I know, it never made sense to me.”

Jesus fucking Christ, was he trying to kill you with kindness?

You laughed nervously. “I think people think I’m a bit of bitch or standoffish. I could probably be friendlier.”

“Fuck that.” He lit another cigarette. “Want one?”

You shook your head.

He continued. “Being friendly is overrated. People take advantage of that. Plus you’re hardly bitchy. You just listened to me whine about my daddy issues. You’re a saint if anything.”

Again, he was laying it on thick. Calling you a saint was borderline too much to take.

“You have to stop. I’m gonna die if you keep gassing me up like this.”

He coughed. “Fine. You’re gross. The worst. I never want to see you and your nasty ass again.”

“There we go.”

He leaned his head on your shoulder again. The more you thought about his behavior it became clear he didn’t get much affection, platonic or otherwise. You still had an inkling he had a crush on you. But you decided to focus more on being a friend, someone he could come to. You knew a girlfriend could do those things, but romance seemed trivial. He didn’t need a love interest; he needed a buddy.

You were ripped away from your thoughts as you heard a faint vibration.

“Ugh. It’s my dad.”

Zeke got up and answered his phone.

“What?!” he shouted.

He wandered off. You could hear him arguing in the distance. Part of you wanted to run up and grab his phone and tell his dad off. But that would’ve been absolutely bonkers. You looked out at the view and tried to think about other things.

“Whatever. Bye.”

You heard footsteps behind you and the flicker of a lighter.

“What happened?” you asked; your voice filled with concern.

He stared at you. His grey eyes were lifeless.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with a frown. 

“But I had fun. Thanks for hanging out with me. Are you gonna get home okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t live too far from here.”

You both stood in silence, staring at your shoes. Neither of you wanted to go home.

“Can I… escort you home?”

“Sure?”

His eyes lit up and he tossed his lit cigarette into the street. You prayed it didn’t start a fire.

“Cool! Let’s go!”

He picked up his bike and mounted it. You did the same.

“Race down the hill? I know it’s steep, but it’ll be fun,” he said with a goofy, boyish grin.

You usually weren’t reckless as grievous bodily harm was anything but appealing, but you said fuck it.

“Ladies first!” And with that you sped down the hill.

“Cheater!” Zeke shouted as he trailed after you.

Needless to say, you won the race.

[adalz]

pirates don’t go to school

pairing: dad!Erwin x mom!Reader

cw/tags: big time fluff, established relationship, use of petnames for reader (sweetheart) and use of ‘mom/mommy’

words count: 1.1k

a/n: three daughters, and they’re all named after the walls (but…. i made it extra)

You came home a bit early from book club night. When Erwin said he could handle the girls for the night, you thought it was going to go smoothly - he was more than a capable father, food was in the fridge, you left right after bathtime, and the girls were already wearing their pj’s, ready to go to bed.

You didn’t expect to go home to a battlefield.

Afficher davantage

[shirmirart]

pieck chan and bertoto 💜 (they're siblings. and persian. I make the rules)

[adalz]

Lacrymosa - part 6

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader ー Angel!Levi / Angel!Reader

chapter warnings: mention of violence and blood, mention of death and wounds, mention of war / sacrilege tw, yada yada

world count: 6.4k

a/n: Levi. That's it.

<< prev. part | series m.list | next part >>

Someone was calling your name. 

Only no one upon these lands could have imitated its distinctive sound. Not in this way. There were only a few people who called you like that. Only one voice calling you with this intonation.

A familiar language that you had once dreamed of hearing on these lands. A voice that had resounded thousands of times on opaline surfaces and in too pristine halls. Now it echoed beyond the treetops, throughout the entire sky. It was calling you. That voice, so warm, so far away. Silver gleams already shining everywhere.

He was coming. 

You could feel him, souls trembling from being so far apart. 

He was coming, from the depths of the world. 

And all you could feel was him, deep in your bones. It was pulling at your insides, like the ocean draining away the waves before a tsunami. Inexorably drawn in, subject to a force too violent, that would engulf everything. You could hear his voice, loud in your head. 

He was coming, and as his wings struck the Surface sky, snow started to fall upon forgotten lands. 

He was coming, and with him, eternal winter.

Everything he saw, you saw in turn through his eyes. It was as if you were guiding his steps, as if you were the only one who could show him the way, towards the fire, towards the blood-soaked lands, towards destruction. As if you were the only one who could call him to you.

You could see the scenery flash before his eyes. As familiar landscapes appeared before him, you recognized them - you knew them from a dream. You knew them, but not from so high up in the sky. Then, you saw a mountain, you saw a cliff, edged by pines. From above, you saw the path, the one going towards the house. You saw traces of steps, hundreds of them, as engraved in the ground. 

Great wings beating hard, shattering the opaque air - everything was denser, darker that you knew. The world was bathed in an acrid smoke, which clung to the eyes and embedded itself inside the lungs. And when his eyes fell upon where the house was supposed to be, there was nothing but a raging fire. There was the shape of a house, there were memories of what it used to be. 

And the fire was burning everything. The stone walls had exploded under the weight of the burning old frame, sending huge embers crashing down. There was no floor, there was no roof anymore. Fire devoured everything. 

He knew. 

He knew it was here that it all took place. He could feel it as well, the pain enfolding, the distress coming from deep within his soul. He stayed there, above the blaze, staring at the flames, before closing his eyes for a moment, trying to focus.

“This way…”

His eyes glanced towards the forest. 

Silver wings started beating harder the air all around, making the treetops tremble and blowing the dust off the ground. There was no pain, all movements smooth and natural. Only stinging in his chest, sorrow, devouring and insidious. Only a voice, pulling from inside. 

Carefully, he set a foot on the Surface’s grounds. He took a step - and you could feel the dirt under the sole of his feet as if it were you who had walked. 

He was not frightened. He was not lost and confused as you once was; he moved forward, head high, wings wide open, invested with a purpose. And perhaps, in his walk, a certain habit emerged, that of treading the dust of the Surface. He started walking towards the forest, through the path of those woods you knew too well. And behind him, the blaze ran out of steam, the scorching flames suddenly feverish. The embers died slowly, devoid of heat. Frost already absorbing everything.

And with him, the world plunged in winter. 

Everything was still. Everything was immobile. Yet, there was a thing luring him forward, hasty and restless. A silent cry guiding him towards a familiar soul, towards a missing piece of himself.

And as he walked, the world died quietly. 

Through the trees, he passed by the mortals and their torches and their guns. Everything was still. The moment on hold. He passed by them, and their torches went out as he walked. He passed by them, and their bodies collapsed on the ground. 

That was the cost for laying eyes on a child of Ymir. That was the cost, for considering spilling their blood. He kept on walking, and as he did, lifeless bodies fell onto the ground, skin cold and death freezing on their lips.

Finally, he stepped into a clearing.

And as he walked upon the Surface, he recognized it, just like you did when you first saw it. A Temple to Ymir. The colonnades were still there but enclosed by walls. It was washed from its vivid colors, stained-glass shattered into a million pieces. 

He had always thought they all had been destroyed, all those centuries ago. That none of them still stood on their ground. But it was here, it was real. The last piece of the puzzle. - hidden away and forgotten. 

His eyes eventually fell on the shape of a body, lying in the high grass.

It was dressed in black, elongated limbs squeezed into a movement, twisting a body too tall. And only as he got closer, he saw the opaline face framed by light hair. 

At the sight of the face, something arose in him. Powerful, too raw for him to contain. It tasted like anger. Like a senseless hatred clouding his own judgment. A mirror to your emotions, mixed with his. It took him a moment to collect himself. To suppress it all.

As he stood there, he observed the mortal, the bloodstains on her untidy clothes. There had been a struggle, her collar had been tugged until it was torn. Her arm was stretched out, a broken wrist, reaching towards something. A little further away was a gun.

It was a cursed soul still throbbing in a broken body.  

He closed his eyes. You felt the sigh on his lips as he turned away from her.

And snowflakes crashed against the bruises on her face. Her breath died in the cold.

“This is it,” he thought. This was the cost they had to pay. The sweet liberation of death.

And as he walked closer towards the Temple, the pulling at his chest became stronger, like a pulse, pounding harder with each step. 

He abruptly stopped. 

All around him, late autumn flowers were stained in red.

Another body laid there, at his feet. 

A boy, he saw, his eyes closed, corners still wet from tears - they had marked his face in such a delicate way, wet trails, drawing sinuous paths on his dusty cheeks. Yet the fragility of the moment did not capture what was really on the young face. It was the pain engraved on the features. This was a boy, only a boy.

His white garment was pierced in a single place, right below his heart. From there, life had escaped, in a wake of blood, thick arabesques. A single shot, a fatal wound.

There was nothing there. A fragile life already gone. But there, against his clothes, were feathers. 

And so, he knelt beside the boy. Carefully, he brought his hand to the cold face. 

He didn’t know what compelled him to do so. He couldn’t fathom why there was such sorrow, why it made him sick to just look at him. Why it angered him so much. As his fingers skimmed over his frozen skin, he took away the grief and the pain from his soul. Freed him. When he finally stood up, his hands were shaking.

Time was ticking away dangerously. The seconds hanging in the hourglass, flowing dangerously to the bottom. His power was waning, quivering on his forgotten land - like a torn fabric, letting the grains of sand of an endless desert creep in. There was no time for grief, no time for mourning. It was here, so close. But there was no one else in the clearing. Yet he knew what he was looking for. He knew you were here. 

In the grass, under his feet, stains of blood. Blood everywhere. He followed it, and with each step, the sole of his feet turned scarlet. He walked in the shattered glass, towards the Temple. It had to be there. 

The facade was decrepit, the limestone ancient and stained by time. There were a few steps leading to a stoop, dug by the weight of the millions of feet having one day climbed the stairs. He stopped in front of a door that had been left ajar. It creaked as he pushed it open.

A few seconds passed, for his eyes to get used to the darkness. For his mind to capture what was inside. Pews, and dust floating around. An altar lit up by the sky. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling. The light coming from the sky was gray, the pale sun of the Surface hidden by dark clouds.

On the marble floor, footprints led behind the altar. 

He took a few steps, his own heart pounding harder than ever.

There, there was a shadow, the shape of bodies tangled together on the floor. Step after step, he walked towards them.

He discerned a mortal man. His back to him, body bent - every bone in his spine showing through his bare skin. It was a vulnerable position, to the slightest blow. His head was low - resting against the body in his arms, and his forearms were covered in blood. His face couldn’t be seen, only the strands of flaxen hair falling on the side of his face. He was holding someone tight, covering their face with one hand, as if trying to stop the blood from running away. 

It hurt. It was agony, just to look at the scene. The despair in which he was lost. The preciousness of the one within his arms. How willing he was to give everything away for a fragment of life.

And as he stepped closer, the attraction suddenly snapped within him. 

In his arms, there was you.

Finally, you thought - and it echoed in Levi’s mind.

“Finally, I found you,” he said.

“Finally, you came,” you said.

And you watched as he knelt down in front of you.

You watched what he saw. You heard what he thought. That mortal, blood spilling and spreading over his fingers. That impudent man, daring to touch you. That insolent creature, doomed for eternity for having laid his eyes upon you. 

But all you could see was a broken man, trying to make sense out of the chaos. A man, trying his best to survive. A little boy turned into a soldier, still believing that life was something to protect. A boy, trying to heal a wounded being. All you could see was Zeke. Zeke holding your dying body in his arms. All you saw was the distress on his face, the tears on his cheeks. Your Zeke, alone in the darkness. Losing everything all over again. 

You would have liked to reach out to him, to his body, to his skin. You would have liked to hold him tight, there, against your heart. You would have liked to cry out, to mourn the justice of this world. But you were a mere spectator of the horror, a messenger of a destiny about to collapse, the witness of a last moment. And Levi's hands remained still at his side. 

“He never should have touched you,” Levi said, and you couldn’t see his face as he spoke.

All you could see was Zeke. 

And if it was not love that you saw, you were the most miserable being in this universe. Because it was in the way he was holding you, so dearly, when there was no hope. It was in that pain, a gaping hole that you could feel resonate everywhere.

When Levi eventually made a movement, his hands came to you. Abruptly, he tore you out of his arms, out of his embrace. Zeke's body remained there, kneeling and broken, as if petrified, while you were already moving away from the warmth of his arms.

He carried you towards the altar, where the light was coming from the sky. There, he could almost feel the wind on his face.

“That’s where I fell,” you murmured in his mind.

“I searched for you everywhere,” he whispered. “I searched in every sea, every ocean, in every bottomless abysses. On every battlefield I went, and among the bodies of dead soldiers, I was looking for you.” 

“I waited for you to come. But you never did.”

Through his eyes, you watched as Levi looked at your face, as if for the first time. He looked at the wound. He may have winced. You understood the fire and the blood covered world. You understood that she had aimed at your face. 

With the softest caress, he touched your forehead. 

And then, like a song played in reverse, he watched as the wound healed by his touch, as the blood flowed in reverse and as your skin closed under his skin, like sand blown by the wind. He waited, for what seemed hundreds of years, until your mind would let go of his.

He felt it giving in. He felt your skin getting warmer under his fingers. He watched as you opened your eyes. 

The prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

And when you opened your eyes - heavy, so heavy - Levi was here, before you. 

It was him, truly him. His face so real - and the joy of finally remembering washed over you. All the memories came back, as if you had run after them after they had started to evaporate. It was like chasing the birds in the sky, like cupping the butterflies in your hands before they were to flutter too high. 

You sighed with ease.

“But you’re here now,” you whispered.

And his eyes, that silver color that always made you feel safe, suddenly closed. Long and dark lashes, drawing shadows on his cheeks. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were shining bright. His jet black hair, always carefully tucked behind his ears, were falling on his cheekbones, hiding the sight of him.

“I thought I had lost you.”

You didn't let go of him while he told you, you had to hold him, always, never letting him go. He stayed like that. He talked. He talked, talked to himself. You listened attentively to a somewhat incoherent monologue, without importance. As for you, you listened to his memory starting up, apprehending hollow forms that made sense only for him, if you considered the memories ones to the others - like a game with lost rules.

You had waited for this for so long. So long, to hear the sound of his voice, the sweet ricochet of your names on his tongue. He said it again, and again and again, to make sure that it was true. That it was real. That you were real. 

It was real.

All of this was real. And it hit you, like a slap across the face. That it was all real, that outside, there was nothing but blood under the snow-covered world.

Your eyes suddenly snapped back towards Zeke. There, his body still in the darkness, frozen in time. 

Before you could say a word, Levi mumbled against your shoulder, “Let’s go home.”

Home. 

You had dreamt of those words. You had dreamt of it. 

There had been so many sleepless nights. So many questions, so much anguish. What if no one ever comes? What if they all forgot about me too?

But then had come the truth. The sacred texts and the strange beliefs. Then came affection and warmth. And with that truth, came peace. 

It was impossible. You could not leave everything there, not like that. Not yet. 

“I can’t,” you said.

Levi’s head jerked up, to stare at your face. 

“What?” His face was stoic, only the furrow of his forehead betrayed his thoughts.

“I can’t go back, after being here for so long.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Levi, I can’t.”

Suddenly, Levi stood straight. For a moment, you looked into each other's eyes. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, and his eyes were fixed in yours, looking for a sign, for an explanation. The weight of the words hard to grasp. “Is it because of me? Is it because I couldn’t find you?”

And you wanted to tell him it was all right, that it was not his fault. But that would have been a lie. If he had come sooner, things would have been different, perhaps. If you had known the truth, all along, things wouldn’t have been the same. It was not his fault, neither was it yours. It was just the world you were born in.

Carefully stroking the side of his face, you said, “I can’t leave him there.” 

And with these words, you slowly parted from his body. You walked around the altar, in this moment suspended between those two worlds. You knelt down in front of the man that had held you, the one that had kept you alive. The one that swore to protect you. 

Zeke’s face was imbued with such great despair. His sweet face, stained with blood and loss. And you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms, for eternity. To make sure he was safe, and that life was treating him fairly. That those wounds he had suffered wouldn’t kill him. That nobody would hurt him more than he already was. 

“I can’t leave him like that,” you whispered.

Selfishly, you would have thought that he would understand. Surely, he would understand. Surely there was hope. You looked up at Levi.

But his eyes were shining with something dark. All these emotions on his face, they were all new. 

He had stood up from where he was. He took a step. And as he walked, his face lowered dangerously. Snowflakes slid slowly behind him, across the ceiling.

“What did he do to you?” And his words were nothing but a deep whisper. A warning.

You stayed there, knees against the cold stone, in this Temple forgotten by time.

Some part of you wanted to rush towards him, to grab his hands. Words formed on your lips, around your tongue, excuses, only excuses - trying in vain to find something to say. Something to make him understand, quickly, something to erase that look of pure disgust. Something to bring him back to you. Something to make sure he was the same, and you were the same, and nothing had to change. Anything.

Nothing but the truth came out of your mouth.

“He saved me. He saved me when no one else did.”

He was getting closer, eyes dark. Inside your chest, you felt your heart for the first time in forever, pounding too hard.

“I gave him everything I had because he was the sole reason I was alive. Because he was torn and fragile and he showed me love like no one else ever did-...”

One syllable, filled with rage. It echoed everywhere. A beast’s roar. He yelled, a single word.  In denial.

At that very moment, you thought “So it’s all true.”

Not only Zeke had been right. Humanity was.

Because you saw something in his eyes. Something so violent, so sharp, you felt it piercing through your heart. You saw it all, glimpses of things you would have never imagined running upon his face. He was looking straight through you, and all you could see was it - the violence of his stare.

So you led in, caught Zeke’s body, brought him against your chest. Your hands tightened around his shoulders as you looked back at Levi. 

But before you were nothing but these silver eyes. Gleaming back at you, casting a gloom over the world all around. In his back, glorious wings, stretched open, so wide, wider than you could even remember. Taking all the space between those walls. Hiding away the sunlight. 

Those wings, taking him places you could never have imagined. Always, always shining so bright. But the truth was covered in blood.

Humanity had been right all along. Their stories might have been different from the ones you’d been taught, but they were right. All you knew was nothing but fabricated lies.

It was true, yet very violent to fathom. But as you stood there, kneeling in front of this man, you suddenly understood.

What they meant, all this time.

That Levi was the Angel of death.

It was a stranger standing before you. It was a threat; it was an enemy. All that you could see was death in his eyes. It was hatred and disgust. And you never really knew him. 

You never really knew anyone. Because they kept on lying and lying and lying to you, about the Surface and the world and Mankind. You weren’t even sure that you could fly nor that the pristine halls of Paradis ever existed. 

Seconds went by, and you were nothing but a mere child under his stare. You could have cried, pleaded, and begged, but did none of it. You felt sick in your stomach. On the verge of dying.

It was as if you had forgotten how to breathe. As if your own life was running through your fingers. As if he knew everything, every fragment of your soul and your deepest desires. And under his stare, there was nothing, nothing, you could do. Those eyes you remembered so full of affection were long gone. Standing before you, a man you’d never seen before. There was so much to ask, so much to confront, the contradictions and the lies. But you were quick to realize, at this moment, that the Goddess never made gentle children. 

All of you were sinners, as your once humanity cursed you to be. 

Savage brothers and sisters.

Five words echoed in the Temple. Through his gritted teeth, spitted out like venom, he pronounced five words, enough to ground you back into the world.

“I will slice his throat.”

And there was no such thing as pity in his eyes. His jaw was set, the joints of his fingers going white around the grip of a blade - a weapon you suddenly remembered him wielding. Long and sharp, beveled blade. Holy weapons, called to their bearer side by their will only, granted by the Goddess Herself to Her children.

It all came back to you. The day of the attack. What happened before the fall. 

You remembered coming out of a stupor when the first blow sounded against the doors, echoing in the empty and quiet halls. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of them, so massive, your spear in your hands. 

You remembered fighting with your own weapon. Sharper and deadlier than an arrow. Piercing the flesh, nailing the bodies to the ground. All of it, so vividly, the blows knocking them down. It was something you knew how to do. It was something engraved within you.

In your back, wings started fluttering painlessly. You raised your head to him, ignoring the blurred world all around you. And instead of the shaking words you thought you'd pronounce, there was a raging shout.

“Then I’ll kill you.”

His wings began to beat, blowing the dust and flakes into your face. But instead of keeping your head down in front of him, in front of his power and strength, you stood up, Zeke's body heavy in your arms. There, right up against you. Where nothing could ever take him away.

“I'll bleed you with my own hands on those cursed grounds if you take one more step.”

Levi was staring at you, his disgusted eyes everywhere on you, glaring at the man in your arms. He took another step. 

You imagined it, his blade slicing Zeke’s throat. His life over forever, and being the one responsible for it. Not fighting for what you wanted, for what you deemed right, was out of question.

“I said stop!”

And it was more than a shout this time. It almost took you aback, the sheer force of it, the vibrant and unbreakable words. 

An inexorable command to which every being would yield.

And Levi stopped dead in his tracks. The beating of his wings suddenly lagged, bringing to a halt the storm around you. Immobile in turn, in this in-between plan of the universe which seemed to be his alone. 

Every muscle on his face was twitching, betraying an anger so great that his forced stillness couldn't contain. He was fighting it, trying to break free from you. Struggling to even speak. In his hand, the blade of his weapon was trembling imperceptibly under the pressure of his fingers.

But you were no match before him. He was pure strength and determination, and you knew that whatever prevented him from hurling himself at you, would soon break. At any moment, the imposed balance would shatter. At any moment, he would win the fight. Soon, he would be on you, deadly blade slicing loved fleshes.

And you, you had to remember how to fight. You had to remember how to use the weapon the Goddess once gave you. You just had to call it.

You looked down at Zeke in your arms, his face still, his sorrow engraved behind his closed eyelids. There was no surrender. There was no acceptable ending where you were to leave him. There was just no path where you didn’t live to love him. You weren't giving up on him. 

Slowly, in your mind, you remembered the touch of it, the touch of your fingers against the wooden handle. That weapon of yours, light and piercing. A spear like no other. You remembered yourself, your childish hands turned towards the Goddess, in which She had placed a weapon too big, too heavy. Too deadly. You remembered the naturalness of its throw, the extension of your arm. You remembered the bodies collapsing under its whistle, the sharp, vivid rip in the air.

You could almost feel it in your hand. Its weight, its sensation. It was almost there, crawling under the skin of your hand.

You tried, you really tried. You thought you could do it. 

But nothing came when you called.

Your eyes snapped open at Levi’s voice breaking the silence.

“You don’t know what you’ve done.”

At your side, your hand remained empty. 

And there was no reasoning with him. You could read it all upon his face. He had already tipped over somewhere unreachable, abandoned to panic and disgust. Fighting to get the upper hand - trying to break whatever compelled him to remain immobile. 

What you had done, no one could ever understand. Not even him. That love he once had for you - was not for the one standing before him, brave and desirous. It was for the child you used to be, lost and drowsy by eternity. What you had done could be drowned by excuses, but would never be enough for him to understand. 

“I lived,” you answered him, and it all came out like a river in spate, “I tried to live! And you are not allowed to blame me for it. I wanted all the things I thought I never needed, all the things of which I had been deprived. I only wanted my life back, that’s all I ever did. I denied it all for so long, but I had to fall, didn’t I? I guess I had to fall, to find my place among the ashes.”

His face twisted into a wince, his whole body shaking with rage. “You let this swine corrupt you,” he snapped back at you. “For what? For the fleeting feeling of being alive? You let him touch you, you let him-…"

"You don't know a hundredth of what we've done! You don't know anything!”

“Oh, but I know everything! I know what you have done, you idiot!”

“Why does it matter to you? You all thought I was dead! Would have it been better if I were dead?”

“Our fleshes are sacred! Ymir made us who we are so we could watch over this world, not to get our hands dirty with it!”

“And yet she let it rot!” you shouted, and as you spoke, you held Zeke’s body tighter. “She let her own children die and suffer in wars so old they forgot why they even fought in the first place. You think because she saved a handful of us, thousands of years ago, she is a fair ruler?”

“Look outside! Look at what they did to you! They are the ones to blame for all of this.”

“Are they really?”

Were they really to blame, while abandoned by the goddess for millennia, they had to rebuild a world gone up in smoke, growing up upon lands stained by blood. This hatred, like a heritage of a godless people, was not making any sense.

Yet everything had emanated from her.

Ymir, the Mother of all things, was the starting point of everything; the world’s creator, its protector and its only Goddess. 

But she had chosen to destroy it, while Mankind, jealous of her eternity and power, had defiled the ground of Paradis. She was the one who had cursed them, who had turned the verdurous lands of her own world upside down and made the oceans spit fire. She was the one who had torn the sky from the surface, promising forever to watch her children kill each other on once fertile lands. 

She was the one who taught you how to fear and how to hate. She was the one who showed you how to kill. She had been the one responsible for destroying everything, and eventually - for cursing them.

“Do you think the diluted hatred in their blood is truly theirs? Can’t you see that this,” and you waved at the world around you, at the ruins of this temple, at the corpses in the grass, at the smoke in the sky, “is not our legacy? 

“This is the cost they have to pay.” The gravel of his voice. Everywhere. Embroidering under your skin. 

“And I refuse to stand there as she keeps on murdering the children of her children. I refuse to remain silent in the face of her atrocity.”

A grimace of pain flashed on his face as he said, “She made you who you are. She gave Her own life to have you live.”

“And how many did she make you take?” you spitted. “How much did it cost you?”

His face fell. For the first time, he looked at you in disbelief.

Because he knew that you weren’t supposed to know. He knew those heavy secrets kept away from you. And that his mere purpose in this world was one of them.

“How-...”

“Would it be easier? Tell me, Angel of death, would it be easier to hide it?”

“Don’t call me that, you don’t know-...”

“What else must I know to understand? Don’t you dare tell me about this goddess of ours. Don’t you dare tell me she has been fair to you.”

“I accepted my duties. I didn’t do it to help Her. I did it to survive.”

“Or else what?” And you watched, you watched as he stood there, looking for an answer, looking for the words that would sound right. 

You would never have known, never, all the power that truth contained, how it could turn the game around, until you held it in the palm of your hand.

“She would have gotten rid of you, Levi. Like she got rid of me.”

“No.”

“She would have made your wings wither and exiled you to the end of the world, where the bloodthirst of Mankind is as great as on the first day of the Holy Wars. She would have ripped away your memories and stifled your cries for help.”

“This is not what happened.”

You were here for a reason. Because she knew that no one would ever come here, as all of you had forgotten about this place. Because this was nothing but a punishment. The only one of her children who did not know how to fly, fallen from Paradis. 

“What happened then? Has she not shaped this world with her own hands? What could have happened for a goddess to forget about her own child? So tell me, Levi. What was her purpose? How could the master of all things have failed in her duties without ever alarming us?”

You straighten yourself up, spreading your feet below your hips as you adjust Zeke’s weight in your arms. In your back, wings shrugged, waiting for an answer that never came.

“She’s tired of this world,” you said, slowly, “bored of her creation. There is no blood anymore, no prayers, no mourners pleading her name. Mankind has evolved. They kill themselves with weapons she could never have given them. 

Can't you see that she is no longer amused? She doesn't need it anymore. She created mankind for her pleasure, for her own pure enjoyment. And while the gods never get bored, she got bored with the suffering of her playthings. 

She’s trying to get rid of it. She enslaved her most powerful children, sending them to kill themselves in cruel and aimless labor - while the useless ones she abandons to the edge of the world. She turned the most powerful of them all into an obedient little soldier, while the rest of us went numb in hollowness. This is only the beginning - it takes time to erase and start again. The only purpose she has been pursuing was to get rid of this world. And whether you like it or not, we are part of it.”

And right as you spoke, the balance broke.

Except it was not because he fought back, because his power had broken the weight of the order. It was because he surrendered. 

He flinched back.

Behind you, all around you, the deafening sound of something shattering sounded. It was coming from the sky, from deep within the earth. Your eyes snapped toward the gaping hole in the ceiling, and from there, you could see immense cracks tearing the gray sky.

“There is no time left,” Levi said, and your eyes snapped back at him. He sounded so flat, as if none of it was affecting him anymore.

It was about to break. This quiet word you were all plunged in. Soon, the winter was to be over. 

“Just let me go,” you said in a whisper, voice suddenly quivering.

His eyes were turned towards the destroyed ceiling. He wasn't looking at you anymore, anger and disgust gone. On his face, only deception could be seen. And as he spoke, his eyes remained fixed towards the gray sky.

“I won’t leave you here.”

“You can leave us here, you can forget about me!”

But he was not listening anymore. He was not fighting back. 

“Come home with me,” he said.

“It’s not home. It never was.,”

“Stop it. Please,” he said, and his eyes fell to the ground between the two of you. Something in his voice was urgent. And in his back, his silver wings resumed their flutter.

“I’m begging you, just leave me here,” you were shaking your head. You were pleading. 

He took a step forward.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can!” you shouted. Zeke’s body was tight against your chest, the warm scent of his life against your skin, “Just leave me here, as if you had never found me!”

His wings flared out.

It was like witnessing the return of spring, the moist heat rising to your cheeks, the world suddenly overflowing, full of scents, too much heat. It was like watching the world regain its colors, after being plunged in the dark for so long.

Only it was terrifying. It was the last grain of sand in the hourglass, about to be swallowed down. It was not a rebirth of any kind. It was the return of something that meant the end. It was the bodies outside that would finally die, where the winter had taken everything. It was the end.

He didn’t answer, sweeping a cold stare across your face. So heavy of meaning, the disappointment palpable. Under it, you slightly flinched, its weight more meaningful than a thousand words.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And suddenly everything around you was pitch black. All that was to be seen were his two silver eyes. Transfixed on you. 

You felt it coming, dryness drawing on your eyes. 

Everything was dark, and he was everywhere, silver eyes shining so intensely that you couldn't take your eyes off, a too brutal attraction. It was like being dragged against your will into lands too far away to ever imagine. A rapture that meant the end. You were not to blink or it was over.

Don’t close your eyes. 

In your arms, Zeke made a movement. His body was coming back to life, warm and clammy.

You felt him regain consciousness. Then, you heard the sweet sound of his voice. A mumble, his weight adjusting, trying to straighten up. You felt his hand, sliding down your shoulder. He called for you, his voice exhausted. He whispered “love?" against your neck.

And yet you could not take your eyes off death.

When you leaned in, grabbing his face with one of your hands, your eyes couldn't avert the unyielding silver colored eyes. He was getting closer. It was too late. 

"Listen to me, Zeke. Listen to me carefully."

Not yet. Don’t blink.

You tried to resist, but all of it, it was too strong, swallowing you whole, towards unescapable halls. There was nothing, nothing you could do.

“You have to swear,” you said, voice broken, echoing faintly, “Swear that you will keep your eyes closed.”

Or it’s all over. 

Before you, only the blade of his eyes. There, so close, inevitable. Already engulfing everything. And it hurt, hurt so sharply, eyes burning from resisting, from standing up against him.

You would have liked so badly, one last time, to see the blue of his eyes, the tempestuous color of the ocean. To lose yourself in their vastness.

There was no ending of your story where you were to leave him.

“What you will see will only kill you.”

[adalz]

I believe you're the greatest writer I've ever encountered in here- Your writing is phenomenal

Hi friend! Gosh, thank you so much for your kind words, it's such a nice thing to say!

To be honest, I'm really trying my best and I can’t say that I'm not a bit envious of the amazing writers on here, who seem to write with a fluidity and a disconcerting talent. Sometimes writing feels like an impossible task, but I know that, sometimes, I'll get feedback and comments, then the task seems easier.

It is these comments that give me confidence to get going. Thank you so much.

Forever appreciate you 💙

[adalz]

Lacrymosa - part 6

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader ー Angel!Levi / Angel!Reader

chapter warnings: mention of violence and blood, mention of death and wounds, mention of war / sacrilege tw, yada yada

world count: 6.4k

a/n: Levi. That's it.

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Someone was calling your name. 

Only no one upon these lands could have imitated its distinctive sound. Not in this way. There were only a few people who called you like that. Only one voice calling you with this intonation.

A familiar language that you had once dreamed of hearing on these lands. A voice that had resounded thousands of times on opaline surfaces and in too pristine halls. Now it echoed beyond the treetops, throughout the entire sky. It was calling you. That voice, so warm, so far away. Silver gleams already shining everywhere.

He was coming. 

You could feel him, souls trembling from being so far apart. 

He was coming, from the depths of the world. 

And all you could feel was him, deep in your bones. It was pulling at your insides, like the ocean draining away the waves before a tsunami. Inexorably drawn in, subject to a force too violent, that would engulf everything. You could hear his voice, loud in your head. 

He was coming, and as his wings struck the Surface sky, snow started to fall upon forgotten lands. 

He was coming, and with him, eternal winter.

Everything he saw, you saw in turn through his eyes. It was as if you were guiding his steps, as if you were the only one who could show him the way, towards the fire, towards the blood-soaked lands, towards destruction. As if you were the only one who could call him to you.

You could see the scenery flash before his eyes. As familiar landscapes appeared before him, you recognized them - you knew them from a dream. You knew them, but not from so high up in the sky. Then, you saw a mountain, you saw a cliff, edged by pines. From above, you saw the path, the one going towards the house. You saw traces of steps, hundreds of them, as engraved in the ground. 

Great wings beating hard, shattering the opaque air - everything was denser, darker that you knew. The world was bathed in an acrid smoke, which clung to the eyes and embedded itself inside the lungs. And when his eyes fell upon where the house was supposed to be, there was nothing but a raging fire. There was the shape of a house, there were memories of what it used to be. 

And the fire was burning everything. The stone walls had exploded under the weight of the burning old frame, sending huge embers crashing down. There was no floor, there was no roof anymore. Fire devoured everything. 

He knew. 

He knew it was here that it all took place. He could feel it as well, the pain enfolding, the distress coming from deep within his soul. He stayed there, above the blaze, staring at the flames, before closing his eyes for a moment, trying to focus.

“This way…”

His eyes glanced towards the forest. 

Silver wings started beating harder the air all around, making the treetops tremble and blowing the dust off the ground. There was no pain, all movements smooth and natural. Only stinging in his chest, sorrow, devouring and insidious. Only a voice, pulling from inside. 

Carefully, he set a foot on the Surface’s grounds. He took a step - and you could feel the dirt under the sole of his feet as if it were you who had walked. 

He was not frightened. He was not lost and confused as you once was; he moved forward, head high, wings wide open, invested with a purpose. And perhaps, in his walk, a certain habit emerged, that of treading the dust of the Surface. He started walking towards the forest, through the path of those woods you knew too well. And behind him, the blaze ran out of steam, the scorching flames suddenly feverish. The embers died slowly, devoid of heat. Frost already absorbing everything.

And with him, the world plunged in winter. 

Everything was still. Everything was immobile. Yet, there was a thing luring him forward, hasty and restless. A silent cry guiding him towards a familiar soul, towards a missing piece of himself.

And as he walked, the world died quietly. 

Through the trees, he passed by the mortals and their torches and their guns. Everything was still. The moment on hold. He passed by them, and their torches went out as he walked. He passed by them, and their bodies collapsed on the ground. 

That was the cost for laying eyes on a child of Ymir. That was the cost, for considering spilling their blood. He kept on walking, and as he did, lifeless bodies fell onto the ground, skin cold and death freezing on their lips.

Finally, he stepped into a clearing.

And as he walked upon the Surface, he recognized it, just like you did when you first saw it. A Temple to Ymir. The colonnades were still there but enclosed by walls. It was washed from its vivid colors, stained-glass shattered into a million pieces. 

He had always thought they all had been destroyed, all those centuries ago. That none of them still stood on their ground. But it was here, it was real. The last piece of the puzzle. - hidden away and forgotten. 

His eyes eventually fell on the shape of a body, lying in the high grass.

It was dressed in black, elongated limbs squeezed into a movement, twisting a body too tall. And only as he got closer, he saw the opaline face framed by light hair. 

At the sight of the face, something arose in him. Powerful, too raw for him to contain. It tasted like anger. Like a senseless hatred clouding his own judgment. A mirror to your emotions, mixed with his. It took him a moment to collect himself. To suppress it all.

As he stood there, he observed the mortal, the bloodstains on her untidy clothes. There had been a struggle, her collar had been tugged until it was torn. Her arm was stretched out, a broken wrist, reaching towards something. A little further away was a gun.

It was a cursed soul still throbbing in a broken body.  

He closed his eyes. You felt the sigh on his lips as he turned away from her.

And snowflakes crashed against the bruises on her face. Her breath died in the cold.

“This is it,” he thought. This was the cost they had to pay. The sweet liberation of death.

And as he walked closer towards the Temple, the pulling at his chest became stronger, like a pulse, pounding harder with each step. 

He abruptly stopped. 

All around him, late autumn flowers were stained in red.

Another body laid there, at his feet. 

A boy, he saw, his eyes closed, corners still wet from tears - they had marked his face in such a delicate way, wet trails, drawing sinuous paths on his dusty cheeks. Yet the fragility of the moment did not capture what was really on the young face. It was the pain engraved on the features. This was a boy, only a boy.

His white garment was pierced in a single place, right below his heart. From there, life had escaped, in a wake of blood, thick arabesques. A single shot, a fatal wound.

There was nothing there. A fragile life already gone. But there, against his clothes, were feathers. 

And so, he knelt beside the boy. Carefully, he brought his hand to the cold face. 

He didn’t know what compelled him to do so. He couldn’t fathom why there was such sorrow, why it made him sick to just look at him. Why it angered him so much. As his fingers skimmed over his frozen skin, he took away the grief and the pain from his soul. Freed him. When he finally stood up, his hands were shaking.

Time was ticking away dangerously. The seconds hanging in the hourglass, flowing dangerously to the bottom. His power was waning, quivering on his forgotten land - like a torn fabric, letting the grains of sand of an endless desert creep in. There was no time for grief, no time for mourning. It was here, so close. But there was no one else in the clearing. Yet he knew what he was looking for. He knew you were here. 

In the grass, under his feet, stains of blood. Blood everywhere. He followed it, and with each step, the sole of his feet turned scarlet. He walked in the shattered glass, towards the Temple. It had to be there. 

The facade was decrepit, the limestone ancient and stained by time. There were a few steps leading to a stoop, dug by the weight of the millions of feet having one day climbed the stairs. He stopped in front of a door that had been left ajar. It creaked as he pushed it open.

A few seconds passed, for his eyes to get used to the darkness. For his mind to capture what was inside. Pews, and dust floating around. An altar lit up by the sky. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling. The light coming from the sky was gray, the pale sun of the Surface hidden by dark clouds.

On the marble floor, footprints led behind the altar. 

He took a few steps, his own heart pounding harder than ever.

There, there was a shadow, the shape of bodies tangled together on the floor. Step after step, he walked towards them.

He discerned a mortal man. His back to him, body bent - every bone in his spine showing through his bare skin. It was a vulnerable position, to the slightest blow. His head was low - resting against the body in his arms, and his forearms were covered in blood. His face couldn’t be seen, only the strands of flaxen hair falling on the side of his face. He was holding someone tight, covering their face with one hand, as if trying to stop the blood from running away. 

It hurt. It was agony, just to look at the scene. The despair in which he was lost. The preciousness of the one within his arms. How willing he was to give everything away for a fragment of life.

And as he stepped closer, the attraction suddenly snapped within him. 

In his arms, there was you.

Finally, you thought - and it echoed in Levi’s mind.

“Finally, I found you,” he said.

“Finally, you came,” you said.

And you watched as he knelt down in front of you.

You watched what he saw. You heard what he thought. That mortal, blood spilling and spreading over his fingers. That impudent man, daring to touch you. That insolent creature, doomed for eternity for having laid his eyes upon you. 

But all you could see was a broken man, trying to make sense out of the chaos. A man, trying his best to survive. A little boy turned into a soldier, still believing that life was something to protect. A boy, trying to heal a wounded being. All you could see was Zeke. Zeke holding your dying body in his arms. All you saw was the distress on his face, the tears on his cheeks. Your Zeke, alone in the darkness. Losing everything all over again. 

You would have liked to reach out to him, to his body, to his skin. You would have liked to hold him tight, there, against your heart. You would have liked to cry out, to mourn the justice of this world. But you were a mere spectator of the horror, a messenger of a destiny about to collapse, the witness of a last moment. And Levi's hands remained still at his side. 

“He never should have touched you,” Levi said, and you couldn’t see his face as he spoke.

All you could see was Zeke. 

And if it was not love that you saw, you were the most miserable being in this universe. Because it was in the way he was holding you, so dearly, when there was no hope. It was in that pain, a gaping hole that you could feel resonate everywhere.

When Levi eventually made a movement, his hands came to you. Abruptly, he tore you out of his arms, out of his embrace. Zeke's body remained there, kneeling and broken, as if petrified, while you were already moving away from the warmth of his arms.

He carried you towards the altar, where the light was coming from the sky. There, he could almost feel the wind on his face.

“That’s where I fell,” you murmured in his mind.

“I searched for you everywhere,” he whispered. “I searched in every sea, every ocean, in every bottomless abysses. On every battlefield I went, and among the bodies of dead soldiers, I was looking for you.” 

“I waited for you to come. But you never did.”

Through his eyes, you watched as Levi looked at your face, as if for the first time. He looked at the wound. He may have winced. You understood the fire and the blood covered world. You understood that she had aimed at your face. 

With the softest caress, he touched your forehead. 

And then, like a song played in reverse, he watched as the wound healed by his touch, as the blood flowed in reverse and as your skin closed under his skin, like sand blown by the wind. He waited, for what seemed hundreds of years, until your mind would let go of his.

He felt it giving in. He felt your skin getting warmer under his fingers. He watched as you opened your eyes. 

The prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

And when you opened your eyes - heavy, so heavy - Levi was here, before you. 

It was him, truly him. His face so real - and the joy of finally remembering washed over you. All the memories came back, as if you had run after them after they had started to evaporate. It was like chasing the birds in the sky, like cupping the butterflies in your hands before they were to flutter too high. 

You sighed with ease.

“But you’re here now,” you whispered.

And his eyes, that silver color that always made you feel safe, suddenly closed. Long and dark lashes, drawing shadows on his cheeks. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were shining bright. His jet black hair, always carefully tucked behind his ears, were falling on his cheekbones, hiding the sight of him.

“I thought I had lost you.”

You didn't let go of him while he told you, you had to hold him, always, never letting him go. He stayed like that. He talked. He talked, talked to himself. You listened attentively to a somewhat incoherent monologue, without importance. As for you, you listened to his memory starting up, apprehending hollow forms that made sense only for him, if you considered the memories ones to the others - like a game with lost rules.

You had waited for this for so long. So long, to hear the sound of his voice, the sweet ricochet of your names on his tongue. He said it again, and again and again, to make sure that it was true. That it was real. That you were real. 

It was real.

All of this was real. And it hit you, like a slap across the face. That it was all real, that outside, there was nothing but blood under the snow-covered world.

Your eyes suddenly snapped back towards Zeke. There, his body still in the darkness, frozen in time. 

Before you could say a word, Levi mumbled against your shoulder, “Let’s go home.”

Home. 

You had dreamt of those words. You had dreamt of it. 

There had been so many sleepless nights. So many questions, so much anguish. What if no one ever comes? What if they all forgot about me too?

But then had come the truth. The sacred texts and the strange beliefs. Then came affection and warmth. And with that truth, came peace. 

It was impossible. You could not leave everything there, not like that. Not yet. 

“I can’t,” you said.

Levi’s head jerked up, to stare at your face. 

“What?” His face was stoic, only the furrow of his forehead betrayed his thoughts.

“I can’t go back, after being here for so long.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Levi, I can’t.”

Suddenly, Levi stood straight. For a moment, you looked into each other's eyes. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, and his eyes were fixed in yours, looking for a sign, for an explanation. The weight of the words hard to grasp. “Is it because of me? Is it because I couldn’t find you?”

And you wanted to tell him it was all right, that it was not his fault. But that would have been a lie. If he had come sooner, things would have been different, perhaps. If you had known the truth, all along, things wouldn’t have been the same. It was not his fault, neither was it yours. It was just the world you were born in.

Carefully stroking the side of his face, you said, “I can’t leave him there.” 

And with these words, you slowly parted from his body. You walked around the altar, in this moment suspended between those two worlds. You knelt down in front of the man that had held you, the one that had kept you alive. The one that swore to protect you. 

Zeke’s face was imbued with such great despair. His sweet face, stained with blood and loss. And you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms, for eternity. To make sure he was safe, and that life was treating him fairly. That those wounds he had suffered wouldn’t kill him. That nobody would hurt him more than he already was. 

“I can’t leave him like that,” you whispered.

Selfishly, you would have thought that he would understand. Surely, he would understand. Surely there was hope. You looked up at Levi.

But his eyes were shining with something dark. All these emotions on his face, they were all new. 

He had stood up from where he was. He took a step. And as he walked, his face lowered dangerously. Snowflakes slid slowly behind him, across the ceiling.

“What did he do to you?” And his words were nothing but a deep whisper. A warning.

You stayed there, knees against the cold stone, in this Temple forgotten by time.

Some part of you wanted to rush towards him, to grab his hands. Words formed on your lips, around your tongue, excuses, only excuses - trying in vain to find something to say. Something to make him understand, quickly, something to erase that look of pure disgust. Something to bring him back to you. Something to make sure he was the same, and you were the same, and nothing had to change. Anything.

Nothing but the truth came out of your mouth.

“He saved me. He saved me when no one else did.”

He was getting closer, eyes dark. Inside your chest, you felt your heart for the first time in forever, pounding too hard.

“I gave him everything I had because he was the sole reason I was alive. Because he was torn and fragile and he showed me love like no one else ever did-...”

One syllable, filled with rage. It echoed everywhere. A beast’s roar. He yelled, a single word.  In denial.

At that very moment, you thought “So it’s all true.”

Not only Zeke had been right. Humanity was.

Because you saw something in his eyes. Something so violent, so sharp, you felt it piercing through your heart. You saw it all, glimpses of things you would have never imagined running upon his face. He was looking straight through you, and all you could see was it - the violence of his stare.

So you led in, caught Zeke’s body, brought him against your chest. Your hands tightened around his shoulders as you looked back at Levi. 

But before you were nothing but these silver eyes. Gleaming back at you, casting a gloom over the world all around. In his back, glorious wings, stretched open, so wide, wider than you could even remember. Taking all the space between those walls. Hiding away the sunlight. 

Those wings, taking him places you could never have imagined. Always, always shining so bright. But the truth was covered in blood.

Humanity had been right all along. Their stories might have been different from the ones you’d been taught, but they were right. All you knew was nothing but fabricated lies.

It was true, yet very violent to fathom. But as you stood there, kneeling in front of this man, you suddenly understood.

What they meant, all this time.

That Levi was the Angel of death.

It was a stranger standing before you. It was a threat; it was an enemy. All that you could see was death in his eyes. It was hatred and disgust. And you never really knew him. 

You never really knew anyone. Because they kept on lying and lying and lying to you, about the Surface and the world and Mankind. You weren’t even sure that you could fly nor that the pristine halls of Paradis ever existed. 

Seconds went by, and you were nothing but a mere child under his stare. You could have cried, pleaded, and begged, but did none of it. You felt sick in your stomach. On the verge of dying.

It was as if you had forgotten how to breathe. As if your own life was running through your fingers. As if he knew everything, every fragment of your soul and your deepest desires. And under his stare, there was nothing, nothing, you could do. Those eyes you remembered so full of affection were long gone. Standing before you, a man you’d never seen before. There was so much to ask, so much to confront, the contradictions and the lies. But you were quick to realize, at this moment, that the Goddess never made gentle children. 

All of you were sinners, as your once humanity cursed you to be. 

Savage brothers and sisters.

Five words echoed in the Temple. Through his gritted teeth, spitted out like venom, he pronounced five words, enough to ground you back into the world.

“I will slice his throat.”

And there was no such thing as pity in his eyes. His jaw was set, the joints of his fingers going white around the grip of a blade - a weapon you suddenly remembered him wielding. Long and sharp, beveled blade. Holy weapons, called to their bearer side by their will only, granted by the Goddess Herself to Her children.

It all came back to you. The day of the attack. What happened before the fall. 

You remembered coming out of a stupor when the first blow sounded against the doors, echoing in the empty and quiet halls. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of them, so massive, your spear in your hands. 

You remembered fighting with your own weapon. Sharper and deadlier than an arrow. Piercing the flesh, nailing the bodies to the ground. All of it, so vividly, the blows knocking them down. It was something you knew how to do. It was something engraved within you.

In your back, wings started fluttering painlessly. You raised your head to him, ignoring the blurred world all around you. And instead of the shaking words you thought you'd pronounce, there was a raging shout.

“Then I’ll kill you.”

His wings began to beat, blowing the dust and flakes into your face. But instead of keeping your head down in front of him, in front of his power and strength, you stood up, Zeke's body heavy in your arms. There, right up against you. Where nothing could ever take him away.

“I'll bleed you with my own hands on those cursed grounds if you take one more step.”

Levi was staring at you, his disgusted eyes everywhere on you, glaring at the man in your arms. He took another step. 

You imagined it, his blade slicing Zeke’s throat. His life over forever, and being the one responsible for it. Not fighting for what you wanted, for what you deemed right, was out of question.

“I said stop!”

And it was more than a shout this time. It almost took you aback, the sheer force of it, the vibrant and unbreakable words. 

An inexorable command to which every being would yield.

And Levi stopped dead in his tracks. The beating of his wings suddenly lagged, bringing to a halt the storm around you. Immobile in turn, in this in-between plan of the universe which seemed to be his alone. 

Every muscle on his face was twitching, betraying an anger so great that his forced stillness couldn't contain. He was fighting it, trying to break free from you. Struggling to even speak. In his hand, the blade of his weapon was trembling imperceptibly under the pressure of his fingers.

But you were no match before him. He was pure strength and determination, and you knew that whatever prevented him from hurling himself at you, would soon break. At any moment, the imposed balance would shatter. At any moment, he would win the fight. Soon, he would be on you, deadly blade slicing loved fleshes.

And you, you had to remember how to fight. You had to remember how to use the weapon the Goddess once gave you. You just had to call it.

You looked down at Zeke in your arms, his face still, his sorrow engraved behind his closed eyelids. There was no surrender. There was no acceptable ending where you were to leave him. There was just no path where you didn’t live to love him. You weren't giving up on him. 

Slowly, in your mind, you remembered the touch of it, the touch of your fingers against the wooden handle. That weapon of yours, light and piercing. A spear like no other. You remembered yourself, your childish hands turned towards the Goddess, in which She had placed a weapon too big, too heavy. Too deadly. You remembered the naturalness of its throw, the extension of your arm. You remembered the bodies collapsing under its whistle, the sharp, vivid rip in the air.

You could almost feel it in your hand. Its weight, its sensation. It was almost there, crawling under the skin of your hand.

You tried, you really tried. You thought you could do it. 

But nothing came when you called.

Your eyes snapped open at Levi’s voice breaking the silence.

“You don’t know what you’ve done.”

At your side, your hand remained empty. 

And there was no reasoning with him. You could read it all upon his face. He had already tipped over somewhere unreachable, abandoned to panic and disgust. Fighting to get the upper hand - trying to break whatever compelled him to remain immobile. 

What you had done, no one could ever understand. Not even him. That love he once had for you - was not for the one standing before him, brave and desirous. It was for the child you used to be, lost and drowsy by eternity. What you had done could be drowned by excuses, but would never be enough for him to understand. 

“I lived,” you answered him, and it all came out like a river in spate, “I tried to live! And you are not allowed to blame me for it. I wanted all the things I thought I never needed, all the things of which I had been deprived. I only wanted my life back, that’s all I ever did. I denied it all for so long, but I had to fall, didn’t I? I guess I had to fall, to find my place among the ashes.”

His face twisted into a wince, his whole body shaking with rage. “You let this swine corrupt you,” he snapped back at you. “For what? For the fleeting feeling of being alive? You let him touch you, you let him-…"

"You don't know a hundredth of what we've done! You don't know anything!”

“Oh, but I know everything! I know what you have done, you idiot!”

“Why does it matter to you? You all thought I was dead! Would have it been better if I were dead?”

“Our fleshes are sacred! Ymir made us who we are so we could watch over this world, not to get our hands dirty with it!”

“And yet she let it rot!” you shouted, and as you spoke, you held Zeke’s body tighter. “She let her own children die and suffer in wars so old they forgot why they even fought in the first place. You think because she saved a handful of us, thousands of years ago, she is a fair ruler?”

“Look outside! Look at what they did to you! They are the ones to blame for all of this.”

“Are they really?”

Were they really to blame, while abandoned by the goddess for millennia, they had to rebuild a world gone up in smoke, growing up upon lands stained by blood. This hatred, like a heritage of a godless people, was not making any sense.

Yet everything had emanated from her.

Ymir, the Mother of all things, was the starting point of everything; the world’s creator, its protector and its only Goddess. 

But she had chosen to destroy it, while Mankind, jealous of her eternity and power, had defiled the ground of Paradis. She was the one who had cursed them, who had turned the verdurous lands of her own world upside down and made the oceans spit fire. She was the one who had torn the sky from the surface, promising forever to watch her children kill each other on once fertile lands. 

She was the one who taught you how to fear and how to hate. She was the one who showed you how to kill. She had been the one responsible for destroying everything, and eventually - for cursing them.

“Do you think the diluted hatred in their blood is truly theirs? Can’t you see that this,” and you waved at the world around you, at the ruins of this temple, at the corpses in the grass, at the smoke in the sky, “is not our legacy? 

“This is the cost they have to pay.” The gravel of his voice. Everywhere. Embroidering under your skin. 

“And I refuse to stand there as she keeps on murdering the children of her children. I refuse to remain silent in the face of her atrocity.”

A grimace of pain flashed on his face as he said, “She made you who you are. She gave Her own life to have you live.”

“And how many did she make you take?” you spitted. “How much did it cost you?”

His face fell. For the first time, he looked at you in disbelief.

Because he knew that you weren’t supposed to know. He knew those heavy secrets kept away from you. And that his mere purpose in this world was one of them.

“How-...”

“Would it be easier? Tell me, Angel of death, would it be easier to hide it?”

“Don’t call me that, you don’t know-...”

“What else must I know to understand? Don’t you dare tell me about this goddess of ours. Don’t you dare tell me she has been fair to you.”

“I accepted my duties. I didn’t do it to help Her. I did it to survive.”

“Or else what?” And you watched, you watched as he stood there, looking for an answer, looking for the words that would sound right. 

You would never have known, never, all the power that truth contained, how it could turn the game around, until you held it in the palm of your hand.

“She would have gotten rid of you, Levi. Like she got rid of me.”

“No.”

“She would have made your wings wither and exiled you to the end of the world, where the bloodthirst of Mankind is as great as on the first day of the Holy Wars. She would have ripped away your memories and stifled your cries for help.”

“This is not what happened.”

You were here for a reason. Because she knew that no one would ever come here, as all of you had forgotten about this place. Because this was nothing but a punishment. The only one of her children who did not know how to fly, fallen from Paradis. 

“What happened then? Has she not shaped this world with her own hands? What could have happened for a goddess to forget about her own child? So tell me, Levi. What was her purpose? How could the master of all things have failed in her duties without ever alarming us?”

You straighten yourself up, spreading your feet below your hips as you adjust Zeke’s weight in your arms. In your back, wings shrugged, waiting for an answer that never came.

“She’s tired of this world,” you said, slowly, “bored of her creation. There is no blood anymore, no prayers, no mourners pleading her name. Mankind has evolved. They kill themselves with weapons she could never have given them. 

Can't you see that she is no longer amused? She doesn't need it anymore. She created mankind for her pleasure, for her own pure enjoyment. And while the gods never get bored, she got bored with the suffering of her playthings. 

She’s trying to get rid of it. She enslaved her most powerful children, sending them to kill themselves in cruel and aimless labor - while the useless ones she abandons to the edge of the world. She turned the most powerful of them all into an obedient little soldier, while the rest of us went numb in hollowness. This is only the beginning - it takes time to erase and start again. The only purpose she has been pursuing was to get rid of this world. And whether you like it or not, we are part of it.”

And right as you spoke, the balance broke.

Except it was not because he fought back, because his power had broken the weight of the order. It was because he surrendered. 

He flinched back.

Behind you, all around you, the deafening sound of something shattering sounded. It was coming from the sky, from deep within the earth. Your eyes snapped toward the gaping hole in the ceiling, and from there, you could see immense cracks tearing the gray sky.

“There is no time left,” Levi said, and your eyes snapped back at him. He sounded so flat, as if none of it was affecting him anymore.

It was about to break. This quiet word you were all plunged in. Soon, the winter was to be over. 

“Just let me go,” you said in a whisper, voice suddenly quivering.

His eyes were turned towards the destroyed ceiling. He wasn't looking at you anymore, anger and disgust gone. On his face, only deception could be seen. And as he spoke, his eyes remained fixed towards the gray sky.

“I won’t leave you here.”

“You can leave us here, you can forget about me!”

But he was not listening anymore. He was not fighting back. 

“Come home with me,” he said.

“It’s not home. It never was.,”

“Stop it. Please,” he said, and his eyes fell to the ground between the two of you. Something in his voice was urgent. And in his back, his silver wings resumed their flutter.

“I’m begging you, just leave me here,” you were shaking your head. You were pleading. 

He took a step forward.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can!” you shouted. Zeke’s body was tight against your chest, the warm scent of his life against your skin, “Just leave me here, as if you had never found me!”

His wings flared out.

It was like witnessing the return of spring, the moist heat rising to your cheeks, the world suddenly overflowing, full of scents, too much heat. It was like watching the world regain its colors, after being plunged in the dark for so long.

Only it was terrifying. It was the last grain of sand in the hourglass, about to be swallowed down. It was not a rebirth of any kind. It was the return of something that meant the end. It was the bodies outside that would finally die, where the winter had taken everything. It was the end.

He didn’t answer, sweeping a cold stare across your face. So heavy of meaning, the disappointment palpable. Under it, you slightly flinched, its weight more meaningful than a thousand words.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And suddenly everything around you was pitch black. All that was to be seen were his two silver eyes. Transfixed on you. 

You felt it coming, dryness drawing on your eyes. 

Everything was dark, and he was everywhere, silver eyes shining so intensely that you couldn't take your eyes off, a too brutal attraction. It was like being dragged against your will into lands too far away to ever imagine. A rapture that meant the end. You were not to blink or it was over.

Don’t close your eyes. 

In your arms, Zeke made a movement. His body was coming back to life, warm and clammy.

You felt him regain consciousness. Then, you heard the sweet sound of his voice. A mumble, his weight adjusting, trying to straighten up. You felt his hand, sliding down your shoulder. He called for you, his voice exhausted. He whispered “love?" against your neck.

And yet you could not take your eyes off death.

When you leaned in, grabbing his face with one of your hands, your eyes couldn't avert the unyielding silver colored eyes. He was getting closer. It was too late. 

"Listen to me, Zeke. Listen to me carefully."

Not yet. Don’t blink.

You tried to resist, but all of it, it was too strong, swallowing you whole, towards unescapable halls. There was nothing, nothing you could do.

“You have to swear,” you said, voice broken, echoing faintly, “Swear that you will keep your eyes closed.”

Or it’s all over. 

Before you, only the blade of his eyes. There, so close, inevitable. Already engulfing everything. And it hurt, hurt so sharply, eyes burning from resisting, from standing up against him.

You would have liked so badly, one last time, to see the blue of his eyes, the tempestuous color of the ocean. To lose yourself in their vastness.

There was no ending of your story where you were to leave him.

“What you will see will only kill you.”

[adalz]

thank you for the tags and recc on textures of you! been a rough few days so it really made me smile ❤️

Thank you for writing such a beautiful piece!! I loved it so so much! 💙

I truly loved the pacing of the story, how you so easily played with the lighting of the scene, and the sensations, the texture of things, the heat and the taste. I LOVED the overall experience of your writing and honesty, I have to say I'm a huge fan of artist!reader. Add Zeke to the mix, and I'm nothing but forever grateful for your work. You have no idea how much I appreciate you for this and for filling my never-ending Zeke thirst.

You can read Texture of you right here!!

And might I add that >>> Picture of you almost killed me as well? The anger was god tier. The yearning? Wonderful. The storm of emotions? Breathtaking.

[nighttimescribbles2]

Textures of You

A summer morning with Zeke. zeke x reader; modern au; artist!reader; fluff; soft things; vignette. wc: 1008 a/n: written in solidarity for my uk babes melting in the heatwave. may you find relief and a silver lining. for my artist friends, too. ❤️ conjured up by Lana del Rey's 'Love'.

Midmorning glinted from dusty window panes. Summer shimmered in the air of your one-bedroom apartment. The coconut shell planter hanging by the window groaned under the blazing sunlight. From it, the heart-shaped leaves of Zeke’s philodendrons drooped in the promise of heat. 

In the little easterly-facing corner, just out of a lengthening patch of sun, Zeke’s bookcase - stuffed with well-thumbed books, frequently shuffled in parts and beginning to spore cobwebs in other - and the record player crowning its head, sighed. Opposite it were your haphazard piles of art books, some precious treasures purchased for tidy fortunes, but most salvaged from flea markets and used book shops. They were joined by canvases of all shapes and sizes - drier ones stacked leaning against one another, and fresher ones lining the walls all the way around your modest little apartment. All were pungent from the stuff of dreams, of linseed and turpentine and pigment.

Zeke tripped over them sometimes in the middle of the night on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

At the heart of all this was a nook you created for yourself, a little space just enough for you, cross-legged, fortified by palettes and paint knives, by bottles and brushes, sketches and the scatter of pencils. Sweltering in mis-matched cotton bra and panties, hair knotted into a tumbling bun, you attacked your latest piece, a paint-slashed canvas rattling against its wall-easel. 

A mug of stale coffee rippled in the space between your folded legs.

Somewhere in the deeper, cooler parts of the house, your bedroom door opened. Zeke’s footsteps carried him to you. He reeked of unsound sleep, off a droll, drowsy laziness weary of tossing in the heat.

Squinting disdainfully at the square of sunlight and the kingdom it has so far conquered, he yawned, knocked his spectacles awry as he rubbed his eyes, and squeezed onto the floor beside you. In only his boxers, he leaned down to press a prickly kiss to your shoulder. 

Your skin was salty.

“You didn’t come to bed last night.” Parched throat, gravelly voice. He nosed the bird’s nest that was your hair. You were musky, haloed by the scent of concentration and the lingering sweat beading from your hairline all the way down your barely clothed back. 

He breathed it all in.

You shivered a little. Rolled your shoulder at the tickle. Murmured, “Took hold of me,” and put brush, pregnant with blue and white paint, to canvas. It left a thick streak of satisfyingly cool colour.

The side of Zeke’s head knocked against yours. The vibration of his humming soothed your skull. “What did?” he rumbled back.

“My dreams.”

Your canvas was a hallucination of colour, of blues and large swathes of purple universes and the yellow-orange roar of bushfires blazing beneath. In between them, a mad tango of paint streaked and blotted and splashed in protest of the blistering summer inferno.

Zeke grunted approval like he understood. The tip of his nose, blessedly cooler than the rest of him, skipped over your cheek, paused to let him kiss the corner of your coffee-stained lips, and proceeded down your chin, jaw, and neck.

“No wonder you couldn’t sleep,” he breathed.

You met him in kind. Fingertips skimmed taut, hot biceps. Mouth opened to kiss his hair, his temple, the glass of his spectacles and the bridge of his nose. His chest was soft with downy hair.

He came up for air. Swept an arc down your glistening back and pushed into you tongue first.

The mug between your legs sloshed. The brush in your hand clattered into it. You had just enough presence of mind and time to move it to a dark alcove between finished canvases before the arm you leaned on gave and Zeke tumbled you to the floor, his large hand cushioning your head.

“It’s so hot,” you groaned.

“I know, baby.”

Muggy heat hung over and between you. Skin dampened against skin. You bent your leg. His side was sweaty, and rippled with power. Hips descended upon yours. His desire dug into your belly.

Summer beat down on you. Underneath your back, the wood was like scorched cinders. His knees scrabbled between yours, spread them apart as he devoured your throat. His promise rumbled between your breasts,

“We’ll sleep again after this.”

—

Summer Morning, you wanted to call it.

Love, he insisted, for it said everything about the picture: joined wrists, joined hands, locked at the fingertips. Tangled arms warmed under a brilliant patch of sunlight. The wreath of your hair spilled across the amber floor. His broad back, beginning to tan, hovering over you. Then a hint of your face: of beautifully arched eyebrows, fluttering lashes, and the beginnings of a full pout. Crumpled sketches were your carpet, upended bottles and their watery contents spilling rainbows across the bare wood. Tangled legs, toppled canvases. The heavy implication of a passionate kiss.

You relented. Agreed to call it ‘Love’.

“Leanings of Van Gogh, don’t you think?” you asked. Thick applications of paint, saturated colours.

He chewed it over. Pronounced, “Manet.” Sentimentality underneath it all. Cloud-like brush-strokes. Raw soul.

You pursed your lips. Said, “Klimt,” just to be petty. 

“Oi.” He clicked his tongue. “You’re supposed to be the artist here. You know very well that’s nowhere inspired by Klimt.”

You loved that he knew that now. Loved that he picked up so much after two years of enduring you.

You told him you wanted to include it in the collection you were submitting for exhibition.

He frowned. “What’s the asking price? I’ll buy it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nobody knows the man in there was modelled after you.”

“I’ll buy it,” he insisted.

You gave it to him.

Now you stood at the narrow threshold to your bedroom, arms around each other’s waists.

“I was wrong,” Zeke said after a moment’s contemplation. “It’s not like a Manet at all.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “What’s it like, then?”

“You.”

Across the room, above your shared bed, ‘Love’ hung.

[adalz]

Well, you know what? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we need a part 7 to the lacrymosa fic. I can't finish it just here.

[alert-arlert]

Heyyy you got any levi hcs? >.>

i have a few! he's a character that i really struggle with writing for some reason... i've loved him since i was 13, and yet i cannot write him for the life of me

He majored in neuroscience in university and continued research in that field until he completed his Ph.D, and now he works as a full time faculty member at the university he completed his Ph.D at.

He almost exclusively wears business casual clothing - slacks, button up shirts, etc.. His students have never seen him in jeans. Or any colour really… he tends to stick to black and white.

He almost exclusively teaches upper year courses, because he likes the smaller classroom sizes to be able to know the students a bit better.

When he is stuck teaching first and second year courses, he is notorious for his hard marking. However, those who have taken multiple courses with him, or just try to talk to him, know how deeply he cares about his students. He has no problems with giving out extensions or spending his office hours going over lecture and textbook content to make sure they understand the concepts. He wants them to succeed, and to also be challenged. 

Levi rarely takes undergraduate students to be research assistants in his lab, but Mikasa is one of very few that has gotten the privilege. He thinks she has the talent to be able to make it big in the field.

He has quite a few tattoos, which is surprising to those close to him outside of work since he covers them at work. He’s got a full sleeve on his left arm and a few scattered on other parts of his body. 

He has reading glasses. He has “misplaced” them a handful of times (“misplaced” as in he forgot them on his head).

He’s a dog dad to one very happy, and spoiled, akita inu.

Levi is fluent in both French and English. Due to being so close with Hange and Erwin, he’s picked up quite a bit in a few other languages (Turkish, Greek, and German). 

Him and Hange are actually childhood friends. Hange had approached him first at recess, thinking that he was picked on like they were, when in fact he just wanted to read on his own. He hasn’t been able to shake them since. Yes, he still has the friendship bracelet they made him in a little box of mementos he keeps in his closet. 

He has beef with a professor in the history department, but no one knows how it started. 

When he was in high school and as an undergraduate student, he was a part of the hockey team. He ended up as captain in his fourth year and his team had won the championship. 

He’s a great cook, as anyone would expect. What’s surprising, however, is his knack for baking. He made perfect macrons on his first try, and yes, it did go to his head a bit. 

He's not even a fan of sweets, but he likes to have them around in case someone drops by.

Levi never takes off the necklace that used to be his mothers’ before she passed. It’s one of a handful of items of hers that he still possesses. 

His home decor is more on the minimalist side. Despite making a handsome salary from working as a university professor, he still falls into the more thrifty habits from when he was a child. 

On this note, Levi is very handy and crafty. Why spend money on someone else to fix something he can do for significantly cheaper? Why buy something new when he can touch it up in an afternoon?

When he texts, he texts with full proper grammar and spelling. It never ceases to amaze and creep Hange out. 

Levi loves in acts of service and quality time. He likes to be loved in quality time and physical touch, though he is a bit awkward in receiving physical affection. 

He didn't have his first kiss until he was in his third year of university, and his first relationship until he was freshly graduated.

[cafedanslanuit]

happy new year, allie! <3 i hope you have an amazing 2023!

sooo, could you recommend some blogs that also write AOT fics as good as yours? 👀 i still don't know how to find fics very well. thanks!

AAAA first of all thank you for the compliment! also sorry for the late reply i was trying to remember everyone because i haven't been active in a while so i might be forgetting some people :') but i did my best effort

@ofoceansandtombsanew (best mikasa writer out there and my bestie) @xokiddo (best porco content fr like i rec all her work) @alert-arlert (looove how they write porco, especially this one) @fierydiamond (her reiner pieces are chef's kiss) @blondeboyfriend (like, best zeke characterization i can't get enough) @plutowrites @6oldie @plum-pompadour @adalz (reading their work is like... like you feel you should've paid for it) @bokebelle (porco!!!!! such good work fr) @bibblelevi

and on ao3, DEFINITELY check out AlienShawty!!! my fave work from them is "Close To You", i can't begin to describe how GOOD it is. my favourite fic of all time, of all fandoms, of just-- everything

i KNOW im missing some people, coming back from my hiatus is messing with my memory, but well :')

[adalz]

Part 5 came for my throat. I'm still like... in awe of how good it is. I'm not even exaggerating when I say it's some of the best writing I've ever read.

Finnie !!! Gosh, you really are the sweetest thing ever... thank you so so so much for your kind words, it honestly means the world to me, thank you for the support, always ! I'm so happy to share this journey with you.

thank you, thank you ! 💙

[adalz]

Lacrymosa - part 5

pairing: Zeke x Reader ー Priest!Zeke x Angel!Reader (mention of Angel!Levi x Angel!Reader)

chapter warnings: /!\ very angsty/violent chapter / a lot of violence and blood, use of gun, mention of wounds, witchhunt, minor/ major character death (i'm so sorry) / sacrilege tw, you know the drill.

world count: 7.3k

a/n: Hi! I started writing this chapter forever ago. I had to work back and forth on it. most of it was written in one fell swoop. Kind of long getting in, but once you're n it. You’re in it. So much chaos.  

<< prev. part | series m.list | next part >>

In the distance, far, so far away. A memory. 

Like an echo lost in a mountain gorge, twirling above the valley.

Throbbing with life, it was so volatile it stuck to your skin, carried by an exhilarating feeling of momentum.

A memory wafted by the frosty winter wind, and your great wings glided on the updrafts of the sky.

There were landscapes, thousands of them, gone in a blink of an eye as the wind flew through your body like a vital force, eyelids heavy, face slapped by the sky. And suddenly, in the distance, tearing the pale horizon, the shape of a mountain. There, underneath your body, miles and miles of plains went by with the seconds. 

The secret whispers of the wind were loud in your ears, the tugging of the tense muscles of your wings hard and sharp. They were outstretched, strong - striking the air. And so, like an unexpected change of balance, your body stretched, reaching higher, towards the snowy peaks - beyond the rocks and the stone paths once used by Mankind.

It was such a strange memory, indistinct, lost in time. Something was odd - leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. The feeling of a captive bird, finally freeing itself from its golden cage, discovering the vast reality of a too voracious sky.

On your skin, thousands of sea spray stained your face, carried by the wind. There, there, beyond those stone walls, the scent of salt, the smell of the coast beaten by the winds and the tide - the ocean.

In this memory's rush, beyond the mist of the mountains, it finally appeared. There was the ocean, the ricochets of the infinite stretches of water. The softest sapphire reflections. The senseless call of the waves, heady. 

Your muscles finally relaxed in your back, and your body gave in to gravity.

I could have fallen in the middle of the ocean and my body would have slowly sunk to the bottomless abyss.

The adrenaline of the fall, controlled and delightful, made your heartbeat hard in your chest. As your body was about to slide into the water, your wings flared open - almost sliding on the opaline surface.

Fingers dived into the icy water, barely skimming the lace of foam on its surface, but the hard speed scraped them across the waves. Consumed by this unrealistic, almost painful coldness, you quickly withdrew your hand. And then with a dull, powerful wingbeat, shattering the air and the waters all around you, you plunged back towards the sky.

Sovereign of heavens, lost in their immensity, brushing the captive snowflakes in the clouds charged with electricity - it was an insatiable memory, tugging at your heart.

But something was wrong. Like an out of tune instrument in a delicate orchestra. 

Because this could never have happened.

You should have known this land. You should have remembered it.

That thrilling memory, buried deep inside you. As beautiful as it was - it all sounded wrong.

Invented.

Fabricated. 

Because never before had you dived into the blue Surface's sky. 

Because as far as you could remember, there had always been nothing but horrible memories, attached to nothing but fear. 

Because all you could really remember was the oceans infused with the color of blood. Mountains spat fire, and the curse of the Goddess had fallen upon Her creation. 

Because you had no real memory of that life you once lived, and only that senseless and uncontrollable fear had haunted you, for eternity, on the ground of Paradis. Held so close to the Goddess, She alone had let those fears grow within you. Only She had known the skies of the Surface of yesteryear.

Because the Goddess had taken everything from all of you, at the cost of wings too big to ever fly.

Those wings in your back were the very mark of a peace you had never known. Because your first memories were painful with nothing but death and destruction.

Because you, the children of Ymir, were then blessed with wings so large and so powerful that no mortal weapon could ever touch you. 

Yet, all it took to make you fall was an arrow.

There, deep within your flesh, stealing the air from your lungs. Offering you back to these lands. 

Far from the vast horizon and the ocean spray, you had learned to fly in a cage.

Prisoner of a tortured sleep, of marble halls too white, you had never known the blue sky and the seas with their silver reflections. Never had you known anything but destruction, death, and the deafening sound of eternity. You were a mere child, endowed with sacred powers. And nothing but the shades of death on Her lands had survived in your mind.

All of a sudden, in this too pristine memory, the sky was upside down. The taste of a blood too old flooded in your mouth. Its once scarlet color, dried and blackened by the intense light of the sun, blinded the whole world around you.

Nothing had prepared you to fall. No one ever taught you how to fly.

An eternity spent wandering around the ground of Paradis, and you waited for it to be over. You thought, there was a purpose. That it mattered. You thought there was sense.

How come no one ever told you?

That death and destruction were to be endless. And that their perpetrator was of sacred blood.

That Levi was an angel of death.

Senseless world. Nothing but fear, crawling, instilling inside your veins. Alone in this infinite sky, endlessly falling

And slowly, everything started to distort. This lie slowly evaporated. You blinked. The world was dark.

Thousands of voices fell silent in the night.

Your eyes fluttered open.

A breath 

and reality slowly returned. 

The beating of your own heart came to settle on the regular rhythm of rain hitting against the window. You could hear water drip against the half-opened window

Sweat was sliding down your neck, your body still sore from sleep.

You woke up, and it was dark in the room. 

You woke up with the feeling that your body was heavy, arms dead. Your wings tighter than ever against you. Suffocating.

The touch of a hand came. There, resting against your chest. Five cool fingers, as if measuring the crazy rhythm of your heart. Your pillow collapsed a little as you turned your face in his direction.

His head was resting against his arm, you could barely make out his features. Barely, the line of his neck. The curve of his chest. The delicate lines of his stomach and of his hips. Only, in the darkness of the night, the reflection of his eyes was on you.

This blue so familiar, full of sleep, was observing you.

He made a movement, and the sheets slightly slid off your naked bodies. His fingers gently came up to your forehead in a delicate caress. 

He murmured something, but the meaning of his words was lost in the low tone of his voice. Against your burning forehead, cool lips came to place a gentle kiss.

Oddly, knowing that he was awake at the same time as you, in the middle of the night, was appeasing. For he kept finding you, no matter where you were, and every single time, you were reborn under his fingers.

Then, you let your body slide in the sheets, thirsty for his cool touch. Dying to drown in his embrace. His arms tightly closed around you. 

Your nose against his skin, already overwhelmed by his touch, you thought about everything you had taken away from him. Everything he had given up. How you had turned his world upside down. This selfishness, which made you want his arms and his mind only to you. Him, already devoted to the Goddess. Him and his words and his outdated beliefs. Him and his faded world. Him and his gentle words.

Where She had abandoned you, he had given you everything. And you would burn forever in the flames of the Surface for refusing to love him.

It was so dark, and your world was in his arms. Safe. He had found you.

-

You woke up and the room was blood red. The sun was rising. Your wings spread behind you, feathers caressing your skin and your arm around Zeke, pulling him tight. You couldn't remember ever being so warm. Yet, there, on the tip of your fingers, you could have sworn you still felt the coldness of the sea.

-

You woke up and the room was bathed in yellow. His breath was steady and even. In his hair, the sun's rays were dancing. Beyond the window, beyond the rain clouds, the morning had blossomed. 

In a loud whisper, your body suddenly remembered the kisses of the night before, the frantic dance of love on your hips. There was a forbidden taste in your mouth. A bitter taste of success.

Gently, you extirpated your body out of his arms, carefully slipping towards the edge of the bed. Immobile in the silence, you sat there a long moment.

Shaking away the sleep, you bent your back while stretching and your wings opened painlessly.

Painlessly, you thought. Strong and steady. 

You grabbed the holed shirt that had been discarded on the floor, and walked out of the room, trying not to think about it. Of this silent promise of having to leave, eventually. 

As you went down the stairs, you let your wings slightly flutter, your body so light by the force of the air lifted by the working muscles. As if walking on water, your feet met the cold kitchen floor in an instant.

The muscles of your thighs suddenly woke up, warmed up by a soft pain, alive with a song that words did not come back to you, drowsy in a heady desire. 

In silence, you started making tea in the old kitchen. Soon, the sound of water ricocheted in the kettle, and you tried not to let your thoughts wander as you absent-mindedly looked outside the small paned window. From there, you could see the wrought-iron gate, a few trees in the woods and the path going downhill. The birds were already chirping in the forest.

From the cupboard, you grabbed one of the cylindrical metal boxes, on which was written in large calligraphic letters “Reeves Trading Company”. A sweet smell wafted up to you as you opened it. It was aroma of dried leaves, with the scent of fruit and vanilla. You brought the box to your nose, taking a breath in its stunted and dry flowers, once so brightly colored, and the green of the leaves were now dark and sad. In these dried flowers of winter colors, there were buds. With a spoon, you dipped into the tea leaves, taking only a small amount, and putting it in the teapot.

Warm hands slid over your stomach. 

“Aren’t you cold?” said his sleepy voice. 

Against your skin, ten fingers were now burning, his skin so warm, and you sighed with ease. From the wood-burning stove, the kettle whistled. 

In turn, you let your hands explore his forearms. He started nibbling your shoulder. Tenderly - the base of your neck, and then the nape. You felt his teeth slightly sink into your skin.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," you chuckled as you turned in his arm to face him. 

The moment your eyes met, he unleashed the most devastating smile.

He was beautiful, his flaxen hair tousled from the night, eyes shining with that confidence he would always wear so well. His chest was bare, and his arms all around you. 

The thought that he would regret what happened the night before had crossed your mind at some point, but he didn't seem to feel remotely guilty. 

"I made some tea," you said again, staring into the blue of his eyes. Behind his glasses, they were heavy-lidded, still puffy from the lack of sleep. They were sharp, focused. Wrinkled from a smile, taking the shape of pure delight on his face. Every look, every caress of the pad of his fingers, on the edge to make you lose your mind all over again.

"Thank you, angel," and his eyes went down to your lips.

His arms tightened against you, and in a sighing breath, he whispered, "You're so cold…"

“I’m fine…” you said, and it was nothing but a whisper. His eyes went back to your face. 

“Are you sure?”

Reaching out to his face, your hands cupped his cheeks. He let himself go, his face slightly huddling against your palms. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’m fine.”

His lashes were long behind his glasses, eyes closed, savoring this moment. His eyes remained closed as he took a deep breath in. 

Yet, he said nothing. 

"Let's drink this tea before it gets cold," you finally said, and his eyes opened. He nodded.

And the tea was poured. It abundantly flowed in the old, chipped cups, letting out its sweet and fruity aroma, while the steam drew delicate arabesques into the air. 

Ephemeral vapor, so fragile - and you remembered thinking;

"I wish I had lived this life."

Forever, in this old isolated house. Dancing in his arms while the rain was drenching the outside world. Having his hands skim over you as your body trembled with pain and pleasure, for eternity. Having him.

You remembered saying to yourself;

"Long may it last."

As long as life would allow you to. 

“I hope that time will let me keep him a little longer.”

How you would have liked to stay with him, to dress his wounds. Those that you could not see, which nevertheless, there, under his skin, still burned him with a great ardor. Those that, so deeply, had killed him, slowly. How you would have loved to watch him grow old and grow old with him. And perhaps your skin, under the influence of the curse of the Surface, would have wrinkled with the rhythm of years passing by, entangling the minutes and the hours with this love so tender that consumed you. As if the opportunity to die with him offered a new perspective to your life. A meaning, eventually.

Silently, in this very moment, you made a decision. Because that was your choice to make. It was the path you chose. Beyond the expectation and the duties imposed on you, a long time ago. Far from the waiting and the eternity. It was your choice. Entirely yours.

You would have loved, loved it. So much.

But the tea was poured, for the last time.

There was so much of it that it spilled out of the cups, dripping onto the floor. 

Zeke burned his tongue as he took the first sip. 

The hot liquid overflowed a little more. The cup slipped from his hands.

And then there, those last moments of innocence, they could have been frozen in eternity. And the cup, as if suspended mid-air, was about to hit the cold ground. 

What was heard instead was a shrill scream in the distance.

It lasted a split second. Zeke's face snapped; his head already turned towards the scream. Slipping through your fingers. The light in his eyes, suddenly dull.

He tore himself away from you. 

And the cup shattered on the floor.

You barely had the time to recognize Colt's voice that, Zeke was already running through the door. And before your legs could even begin to run after him, another sound ripped the air. 

Something you’d never heard before. Nothing like thunder. Louder. Closer - a deafening sound. Dry. Deadly. 

It resounded, with indescribable violence. Shattering all balance in this world. Your whole body jolted, hands tights against your ears, in an unconscious protective movement

Then came silence. A few seconds of it. Enough to breathe again.

And in its horrible hissing, you finally heard a burst of voices - Colt's again. He was calling Zeke.  He sounded terrorized. He was probably crying - out of breath.

A voice echoed. 

A hoarse voice, falsely delicate. 

You heard Zeke say, 'Get inside, son’ and the sound of footsteps in the gravel outside. But the voice said to stay still. The footsteps stopped immediately.

It said, "Don't move."

It said, "Or I'll shoot you."

And you were there, standing still in the kitchen, unable to move, feet wet from the burning water on the floor. You let your body take a step towards the window.

Behind the small panes, someone was standing in the garden. They were tall, far too tall. Menacing, with their arm stretched out. Behind them, other figures in the distance. They were not moving either, immobile. Among them, torches were burning. 

Horror struck you at the sight of all these people - walking on this haven of peace. Those who were never supposed to see you, those who had once spilled the blood of the Goddess in Her own halls.

But through the opaque panes, you could only see her. The dark blond hair running alongside her face. It was the darkness of her clothes that drew your attention to the shiny object in her hand. 

Witnessing the horror unfolding before your eyes, you realized the origin of the detonation. 

In your mouth, the terrible taste of the arrow that had pierced your throat. The memories of the pain, the blood. So much blood. Only this time you imagined the wound to be deadlier, a pain that matched the horrible smell of gunpowder and fire that overwhelmed your senses. 

Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, the worst things went through your mind. Colt and the blood beating feverishly in his body. The life in his fragile body. Was he hurt? Had she used the weapon on him, in his back, as he ran, calling for Zeke with all his lungs? Was he alive? 

Violently boiling in your veins, all you could see, all you could imagine was blood. You straightened up abruptly. The woman's face suddenly turned towards the window. Towards you. 

Before you could make a move, Zeke's voice echoed again from outside. 

"Put the gun down. If you want to talk, talk to me."

"I've been trying to talk to you for weeks, Father," the woman said. "Only you're not listening." 

"Put the gun down, Yelena."

Her face turned back to Zeke's voice.

"Goddess, no! Have no fear, Father Zeke! I could never use it against you!"

"I don't care if you want to use it or not. Drop the damn gun. Now."

"Father, it's all for you that-..."

Then, you heard Colt’s voice - he was alive, thank the Goddess, he was alive - 

"Father-"

"Get your ass inside, Colt. Right now."

Her voice, again; 

“The boy doesn't move.”

“Let him get inside the house.”

“No.”

“He’s just a boy.” 

“I’m afraid you’re wrong."

“How am I wrong? He’s fucking seventeen!”

"He's not what you think he is."

“Who is he then? Just talk to me, for Ymir’s sake!”

No words were spoken, for a moment. Only silence, a question left unresolved.

Yet there was no hint of doubt in her voice as she eventually spoke.

Your heart fell into your chest. 

"He is a servant of Evil."

He was not. He was not.

This violence - the lies, the weapons. It couldn't be true, it wasn’t true. It wasn’t a nightmare.

And all you heard was Zeke. It was him. You were sure of it. It was him - but his voice had lost all gentleness. All the sweet inflections were gone. All you heard in the timber of his voice was pure anger.

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“I know Father. I know. But it’s all right now, we’re here for you. I came for you. I’ll deliver you.”

“Let’s do that then. Fucking deliver me.” It was no plea. It was him. “Just let him get inside the house first.”

"What for? So he can warn the Tempter?"

The Tempter

So they knew there was someone in this house. They came to kill you. They were going to.

“If he gets inside the house, it shall burn with the two of them inside.”

Her face turned again, slowly, towards the opaque window. It was dark inside the house. She couldn't see you. 

“What are you-...”

"You don't have to lie anymore, Father. I know what's going on. I know everything. All my doubts are now gone. I knew. I knew almost immediately. That something was off. Oh, Father, I am your most fervent servant, you know that. How could I not see that you disappeared as soon as your sacred duties in town were accomplished? How could I not have seen that you were bothered, lost in your thoughts during your sermons, each week shorter and shorter. You know how dearly I love you, Father Zeke. I love you. I would never tolerate anything happening to you. So I watched you, to understand what was going on. To help you. I followed you."

"You followed me."

"Most nights. When everything was dark, except for the lights inside the house. That’s when I’d see it the most clearly. It was just its shadows at first, and I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I thought it was just you, or the kids, always under your feet. But there was something else, I was sure of it. And I saw it, as clearly as I’m seeing you right now. A thing. Shapeless and deformed. There was something that followed you inside that house. Passing you by, never making you jump. It was as if I was the only one seeing it. I tried to tell you. I tried to warn you. But you never listened. You were always busy. Rushing. Lost in your thoughts. You were not yourself, I could see it, that there was something in your mind. Something coaxing you.”

Through gritted teeth, she added: "And you were never listening to me. So I decided to see for myself. I came here yesterday morning."

“Yesterday morning,” Zeke repeated. 

Yesterday morning. As you had left the house at the first light of day. Zeke was still asleep in the chair in his office. Colt, in the armchair by the extinguished fire.

"There's no one in this house, Yelena."

"There was no one there, indeed. But something was off. There was a presence. As if there used to be someone. I could tell by the size of the embers left in the fireplace. By the way blankets had been thrown on all the chairs, by the number of dishes in the sink. By the clothes left on the floor. By their deformed and torn shape. So I started searching. I knew that something had been there. I just had to find it.

I prayed to the Goddess all those nights. For Her to let me know the truth. To let me understand. And it came to me - standing to reason: the only place where a demon could hide, away from our eyes. Where it could grow and regenerate, feeding on our faith and our devotion. Some places we used to worship. Somewhere remote. Somewhere only you know.

I thought I remembered the way to the Old Chapel. But the clearing is much deeper in the forest than I remembered. The paths once used by our fathers are all gone now, devoured by roots and creepers. The trees are so high, blocking out the daylight and it was so dark, so cold. What monster wouldn't make a den out of this.

And finally, after what felt like hours in the mist, right before my eyes - it appeared. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw it. That it was real. That I was right!

Wandering around the clearing like a lost bird. That was it - the thing that defiled your house. With its deformed shape. Trying in vain to look human. And I remembered thinking ‘What an outrage to the Goddess’. A terrible thing that we, sinners, should never have to see - withered wings, a being perhaps once divine creature, that is no longer one now that it has been repudiated from the floors of Paradis. 

"That's n-"

"Father, things happen for a reason. Its presence here is none other than a punishment. This thing is not a wounded bird. It is a punishment. A test for you. And for me. And I did not feel fear. Well, the truth is, on the contrary, I was relieved. That I was right all along. That I had found the solution. And I knew that I had to make things right. Back to how they were. I had to fix it. When I saw it, at the Chapel Father, I knew I had to kill it. For you. 

And so today, we are bringing the fire to you. We’ve come to save you, Father. To purge this house of the evil that has nestled in it.

It’s all happening faster that I intended to; Grice was spying on us as we were talking about how to… take care of this. He ran away before I could stop him. And he ran exactly where I expected him to. Back to the darkness. Like a rogue dog to its master. But don't worry - we will burn it all down. We will purge this place from the darkness. And I am going to fix this. 

Starting with this.”

Her silhouette abruptly changes position. Arm still outstretched. Turning around toward the window. Fire shot out of her hand. 

It was even louder this time, firing in your eyes. The air shattered, a deafening sound. The glass of the window exploded into a thousand pieces before your face.

You barely had time to bend down.

You didn't scream. You couldn't make a noise.

When your eyes flew open, someone was rushing inside the house. You knew it was Colt, but you wouldn’t have recognized him. His usual gentle face was now covered with terror. 

Outside, the world was screaming. 

You watched as he ran towards you, as if slowed down by time. As if gravity had changed. His eyes wide with dread, cheeks red and wet from the tears rolling across his face. His feet crushed the broken glass in the water. He was running towards you, for what seemed hours.

A hand stretched out in front of him, to come and get you, and outside, there was death. There was the fire of the torches and the murderous weapons. 

Outside, Zeke. Alone.

He grabbed your arm. And time went back on.

He screamed something, and abruptly pulled you from the floor. Before you could stand up, your knees scraped against the sharp pieces of glasses. You pushed on your legs, and started to run. 

Colt spoke, yelled something, but words died within the chaos. The only thing anchoring you in the reality of the moment was the cold skin of his hand in yours. There was another one. Another detonation, tearing the uproar of the world, but you already had crossed the room and its large fireplace, jostling the two mismatched armchairs. Colt kicked the small backdoor, onto the backyard.

And Zeke was alone. Outside in this hell. 

Out of reach.

In a vain hope, you looked back.

But all you saw was the darkness of her eyes, fixed on you. That silhouette of her, too slender, her legs too big. Behind you, already. There, a few meters away, in that room, pervaded by her deadly aura, by the death in her eyes. Staining those safe floors, thriving on fear, and her eyes, without any light. Fixed, transfixed aiming at one thing. You.

There was no turning back. There was no choice to be made. There never was.

Colt was tightly holding your hand.

Colt shouted ‘run’

And so you ran.

There had been no destination when you had first run through those woods. You had run for your life, or yet you had thought so. Feet thumping hard against the soil of the Surface, a bandage too tight around your throat, breath taken, voice lost. You had fallen and ran again, away, away from the wrong enemy. This time, if they were to catch you, they were going to kill you.

So you ran. As fast as you could.

Colt was holding your hand, and you were holding his. Behind you, people were shouting. Behind you, there was fire.

And the ground was beating hard with each footstep, with each breath, the world on the verge of rumbling right into the chaos, and somewhere, Zeke was all alone. 

Zeke was all alone facing those people. People that he knew, people that he saw every day, people that trusted his words, just like you did. 

Was it your curse, to watch everything go up in fire? Turning into ashes?

Death and destruction, all because of you.

What if I had fallen in the middle of the ocean and my body had sunk slowly to the bottomless abyss.

“Don’t stop!”

Colt’s arm was stretched, pulling you as he kept on running. 

Colt. Sweetest child. Colt and his timid smiles, and his stories and his blushing cheeks. Colt and his secrets, and his little brother he was so proud of. Colt and his training, and the light in his eyes whenever he was looking at Zeke. Colt and the warmth of his hands, and the sharp truth of his words. And his life had been made into a living hell, poor mortal eyes seeing things he should have never seen. 

He had gone through those woods as well. Running. Calling for Zeke after walking in his house, the floor covered in your blood. His once innocent childhood, stolen away.

He had run for Zeke, scared that something had happened, probably thinking of the fragility of his own life. This time, he was running for you. And he kept on pulling you, even when you stumbled. He never let go of your hand. 

Finally, the edge of the forest appeared from the dense foliage of the woods. Soon, you would reach the clearing, where the two of you would be exposed - easy to aim at and to take down. With nowhere to hide. Soon. 

And then what?

Followed almost immediately by yours, Colt’s feet were the first ones to beat the tall grass of the clearing. Here was the great blinding light of the sky, the cold sun of autumn warming up the skins. And at its heart, proudly standing for millennia, was the Temple. Its foundations still holding the walls steady, its colonnades filled with stone. The songs and the prayers that once resounded there, long forgotten by the Goddess.

You imagined that this was Colt’s plan, to run there, hide inside the Temple, and wait. But the truth was, he was just a boy hoping for a miracle. Because you knew that no one would ever come. You knew it had been forgotten for too long. You understood that you were running straight into a deathtrap.

And with each footstep, you were being more and more defenseless. With each footstep, you were turning into an easier prey. With each footstep, you were condemning yourselves. 

There was nothing but the beating in your ears. Nothing but the footsteps, the same rhythm, and the same race, again and again and again.

In your back, unstrapped wings were fluttering in the wind. If you would have been sure that you once really knew how to fly, you would have opened them wide. You would have let the autumn wind rush into them and set off. But no one ever taught you how to fly.

If you ever had a semblance of power, if there had been anything you could have done, you would have buried the world right there, under your feet. You would have soared up towards the sky, Colt within your arms, flying away from them, and from their decrepit beliefs. You would have done it. You would have opened the earth, and plunged the forest behind you into the Underworld.

A detonation ripped the morning light. Birds flew away from the trees.

The smell of sulfur, the smell of war all around you. 

You knew she was there, behind you, feet in rhyme with yours. She must have been aiming at you, trying to take you down with a shot...

But you were almost there, so close to discern the cracks in the walls. So close that your feet were already crushing the shattered stained glass in the grass. Colt slowed down. His hand slowly loosened.

You glanced back towards him. 

His cheeks were wet, his mouth so pale. 

"Co-..."

His hand slipped from yours.

And he fell to the ground.

You flung yourself on him. Quickly, grabbing him under his shoulders, trying to lift him up. But his body was heavy, too heavy, drained of energy.

"Run..." he said. And his skin was too pale, too pale. 

"No, no, no Colt, I'm not-"

"You’re almost there...”

His voice was too weak. His body, too heavy.

That was when you saw her. On the edge of the woods. She had stopped to take a shot, her stance still. 

“I won’t-...”

“I’ll catch up with you later. Please, just go.”

And in the distance the sound of footsteps. She was on the move again, running towards you. And it was as if the earth was shaking with each of her steps. 

"Now, you go," he said.

He lifted one of his hands, to remove yours from his body and your hands were so warm against him. Sticky.

Palms towards your face. The morbid colors of life.

Stained. Stained, stained, stained, stained. 

Stained with his blood. Stained, this infernal place. Always stained with blood.

You may have screamed. In the quiet of what had been done, you may have screamed. But no words formed on your lips, no sound, except a jerky growl. Except for the anguish, growing, tearing everything in you. 

Colt on the ground. His eyes were so fatigued. 

He may have been talking. He may have been crying.

But already, all around his body, his life, flowing onto the clearing ground.

You said something, again, you said something. You heard someone promise him, you heard yourself swear. That everything would be okay. That you would fix it. As if there was anything to fix in this world. What was there to fix when everything was already broken. When nothing made sense anymore. When you would have to erase everything to start over.

And it wasn't just a nightmare. That body, these tears. It was Colt, bleeding to death. It was life slipping away from him, unfairly. 

He who had so much to say, so much to do. He who had so much life and love.

Alone, in the clearing, while footsteps were getting closer. 

She was almost there. In your back, your wings jostled in the wind.

"I’m begging you. Run."

“I’m not leaving you here. Colt, I’m not leaving you here.”

But your voice came out punctuated by violent shaking. Your face twiste; your vision blurred.

Not by himself. Not like this. 

"Don't look back," he whispered, "do it-..."

Nearby, voices rose from behind the trees. Her steps became slower, spacing out.

"... -For me."

Standing before you, the woman. And Colt’s head fell heavily onto your lap.

Her pitch black eyes were on you. Emotionless face. With both of her hands, arms lowered, she was holding the gun. 

She was looking at the two of you. From him, to you.

Colt, then you.

The lifeless body, and then you. 

On her face, a shadow passed.

She immediately aimed at you, regaining her composure. Her body was tense. Yet, she didn’t shoot. 

“So this is you,” she said, slowly..

Colt was heavy against you, and everything you touched was sticky and warm, while her hands were immaculate against the bright gun. And you were ready. Ready for the fire. You were ready for her to shoot, whenever she wanted to. 

“I understand better now,” she said.

Unconsciously, your fingers skimmed back and forth against the coldest skin, the roundness of a cheek, ever so carefully. Not to break him. Not to disturb the peace. The tips of your fingers were frozen. 

“The Evil One really knows how to create temptation,” she said under her breath. She smiled at her own words. She smiled at you, she smiled at the body in your arms. 

Something was gradually building inside of you. You felt it, something dark. It grew within you at the exact moment she had started to smile. 

Over the treetops, a thick black smoke was rising into the yellow morning, like a dark column rushing to the sky. You could almost see flames licking the horizon. It could only be one thing. And with the smoke going up and up in the sky, the memories of the house. The books and creaking floors. The tea and the music. All of it, gone forever. Fragments of life and lives themselves - reaching for the sky.

So this was your curse. To watch everything go up in fire, turning the world into ashes. At this very moment, you came at peace with it. If they wanted to set everything on fire, you shall let it burn, them within the licks of fire.

Whenever she would move, you were going to kill her.

“I will kill you,” you whispered. 

Yet the words reverberated in the clearing, your voice, loud and clear as never before. As if this place had always been yours and the trees were yelling the words you said, all the way back to the ocean. It took no effort to say it. It was recited like a prayer in the night, like a promise. It was delivered with a power, kept silent for too long.

And under the weight of the words, you felt your wings flutter wide behind your back. You felt every single muscle in your body flare up with a deadly fire. With power, ignited at last.

With the tips of your fingers, you carefully closed Colt's eyes. His soft, gentle eyes. Their warm brown color, gone. And when your fingers left his cold skin, they were burning feverishly. They were burning so hot, that the blood on your hands started to emanate oddly.

You looked up at her, and finally, you saw it. What you should have seen from the start. What they should all have felt when they first looked upon you. What you ought to inspire them.

Sheer terror.

This, right here. This was right. This was how it was supposed to be. Always. For Mankind was supposed to crawl and beg forgiveness for its wretched existence. They ought to be horrified and miserable. You were going to make her regret ever being born, only allowing her to beg all the skies and souls for you to end her fast.

Without a glance at the lifeless body on your lap, you laid it back on the ground. Without a shudder, you stood up. And as you did, your wings began to flutter in your back. Fast and hard - the movement smooth, a new strength waking up inside your body.  

In your back, you could feel the muscles pulling painfully, straining against you from the force of the beaten air. Like a drop of rain naturally sliding with gravity towards the ground, your body elevated slowly, up towards the sky, feet hovering above the ground. 

And what happened next was the most delightful thing - her face distorted with fright, the grin that was there a moment ago, long faded. It was exhilarating; the fear, but most of all, the realization. 

She stepped back in panic, her hair flying out of her face under the effect of the powerful air movements, and then back again, brandishing her weapon hopelessly. Her legs buckled - she fell backwards, dropping it somewhere on the ground. And all around you, once pristine feathers were fluttering into the wind.

You heard a distant scream, from the edge of the forest. It snatched your attention away from her. All you could think about was the dark fate unfolding before you, the ill thoughts flooding all senses. And yet, at the sound of his voice, that thing that had been building within you, snapped a little. Zeke was running fast, he was calling your name. His body was covered in blood and bruises, his face distorted by anguish, gentleness and trust lost forever. 

But behind him, suddenly emerging from the woods as well, dozens of people, torches and fire in their hands started to march on the clearing. And yet you knew that he was not running for his life. He was running for yours. Always for yours.

But there was nothing to be done. There was no other possible outcome. All of them were doomed. Nothing could ever fix chaos. As it was bound to happen, the best you could offer was to flow along with it. There was no hope. 

You watched as Zeke ran through the clearing, and you hated every second of it. You hated to see him run, towards a future made of destruction and death. You hated that he was still hopeful, despite the blood on his face, and the smoke in his lungs. You hated that he was still hoping to save your life. That he was hoping there still was life to save. You watched him run until his eyes fell upon the body lying under your feet. You watched him stumble and fall to the ground. Your heart clenched in your chest when you saw the look on his face - the shadows, the distress. His eyes going back and forth from the body laying at your feet, to you. His glasses were long gone, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. You watched as he stood up, and started running again.

There was no outcome. There was never a choice to make. There was nothing to fix. And you were going to-...

Something shone from underneath you. A glimpse, the reflection of the sun.

A deafening detonation. 

All you felt was the deathly pain. Everything pulled out of place, vibration in your bones, your face getting torn apart. The echo of a bullet ringing inside of you. Only the taste of sulfur and blood in your mouth.

You didn’t feel the moment your balance broke. You didn’t feel your body abruptly flinching in recoil, nor when your back hit the hard floor. 

Only the raw feeling of exposed life, a Child of Ymir brought to their knees by Mankind’s weapons. The loss. Defeated, at long last.

Everything was red. Sensations gone, moving was agony. Silence was ringing hard, the world swaying. The smell of fire, the taste of metal. Body not responding. Muscles atrophied. 

Eyes opened. The left one remained in the dark. And your face was devouring itself from the pain.

And it hurt, hurt so bad - it was worse than anything before. It was worse than the fall, worse than the arrow. 

Each breath was death ignited on your face. And from there, all you could see was the sky turning black, the dark column of smoke elevating, already so high, hiding away the sun. You couldn’t hear a thing, only the ringing in your ears and chaos in your mind.

The world went dark. 

Silent, at peace - finally.

The sound of the wind through the branches. A few notes played on a piano. You thought 

This is it.

A sound. A sound that was not the sound of gunfire. That was not a scream of despair. A sound that had nothing horrifying. A familiar voice. It was your name.

Someone was calling your name. 

Only no one in these lands could have imitated its distinctive sound. Not in this way. There were only a few people who called you like that. Only one voice calling you with this intonation.

A familiar language that you had once dreamed of hearing on these lands. A voice that had resounded thousands of times on opaline surfaces and in too pristine halls. Now it echoed beyond the treetops, throughout the entire sky. It was calling you. That voice, so warm, so far away. Silver gleams already shining everywhere.

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