Limbo
It is time...to meet the one and only—Great Witch, Witch of the Black, the Wicked Bitch herself—Rathshiva.
“But K, I thought we were meeting Jin next?” Yeah, so did I, but the wicked bitch has been haunting me so I’ve decided to let her out of her cage so I can focus on Jin.
Hope ya’ll are ready~~ I know Yoongi and Y/N aren’t...ehehehe
(shitty Moodboard courtesy of moi.)
Warnings: Strong language, magical themes, mentions and depictions of violence and blood.
Word Count: 7.7k
Theme: Supernatural!BTS, Witch!Yoongi, Great Witch(OC), Psychic!Jimin, Necromancer!Hoseok, Demons.? Hey there demons, its me, ya boi
Bonus Part: 1 of 2
Link to the First part of the series—starts with Yoongi
A/N: After much anticipation, I’d like to introduce Rathshiva! She’s mentioned throughout the main plot (Linked above—there are 7 parts so far, Jin has not been introduced yet) and in Jimin’s shitty side drabble here. Hope you all enjoy...
I woke up in the dead of night, dripping with cold sweat, something felt wrong.
Something like dread was looming in the air and lurking within every shadow. Something evil was here.
An evil I could feel resonate in my soul, like the feeling alone was contaminating and corrupting me as I soaked it in.
And then it was gone, everything snapped back to normal like a switch was flipped, and that’s when I knew something was really wrong—because whatever was here, wasn’t here anymore. Leaving the questions—Where is it now? And Why was it here?
I jumped up out of bed and made my way over to the door, though I couldn’t bring myself to open it at first; but I needed to, I needed to get to Yoongi. I needed to warn him.
Warn him about what?
I grabbed the knob and twisted it with a weak grip, throwing the door open and moving to rush out. But I stopped—and nearly screamed when I came face to face with Yoongi, only it wasn’t Yoongi, it couldn’t have been Yoongi.
Yoongi didn’t have blood seeping from his eyes, nose and mouth like that, dripping audibly onto the floor as he hunched over, nearly stumbling through the doorway of my bedroom.
Yoongi’s skin wasn’t that shade of grayish-blue like he had been dead for days. But overall—Yoongi’s eyes didn’t hold pure fear, the same fear I could feel in the air, the fear that was coming from him.
Blood splattering onto my skin as he uttered ‘no’ and ‘please’ in a voice too weak to have been his own, but he wasn’t begging me, he was begging someone else—something else—I could feel its presence.
And that’s when I saw another figure emerge from the shadows of the hallway, reaching out to claim Yoongi. And I did scream.
And then I woke up, again, this time in broad day light. The sun burned my eyes as I frantically looked around, squinting through the haze of tears and light—everything looked normal, everything felt normal.
The sound of my door being thrown open made me jump and shriek again—only this time it didn’t make it past my lips, the scream was smothered by a choked sob that caught in my throat when I saw who was standing there.
Yoongi stood in the doorway, his eyes wide but alert and full of fire. “What’s wrong?” his voice held concern and his chest heaved—he had just run up the steps no doubt—he glanced around my room as I scrambled to get out of bed, rushing towards him.
His skin was slightly cold to the touch and the pink tint to the tip of his nose told me he had been outside. I clung to him like my life depended on it, anything I said—or tired to say—came out a jumbled, incoherent mess; I was sobbing too hard to talk, to breathe, I felt like I might pass out.
And for the second time, I saw fear in his eyes—masked—but it was there.
A half an hour later and I was sitting at the kitchen table—my entire body trembling, my core muscles spasming from how hard I had been crying. I wasn’t crying now, I was spaced out, staring at the steaming cup of tea Yoongi made for me, my mind replaying that image and those feelings over and over again. It was mind numbing to see Yoongi in such a state, I was almost unable to process it.
It wasn’t just a dream, it was too real. Something is coming.
“Y/N…” Yoongi spoke softly from the seat next to me, his chair turned to face mine. He reached out to take my hand in both of his, his thumbs soothingly rubbing over my skin. “Can you talk?” he asked, humming when I didn’t answer him. “Are you able to tell me what happened?” he tried to mask the impatient tone in his voice, but he was failing.
“Look and see.” I said, giving him permission to get inside of my head. He hesitated, almost like he didn’t want to know—I didn’t blame him, I could tell he was growing uneasy from my behavior.
His palm spread across the side of my head and I closed my eyes, preparing myself. I felt the mind-numbing chill spread throughout my head, starting at my temples. I relived the dream, this time with Yoongi, and I squirmed in my seat, the feeling of dread weighing in the pit of my stomach.
Once Yoongi dropped his hand from my head I looked over at him, and my stomach dropped—he didn’t look the least bit concerned. “A-Aren’t you worried? Somethings wrong.” I was almost mad that he didn’t look concerned.
“We don’t know if your dream holds any truth, it could just be a dream…” he sighed. “But I’ll call Jimin, get him to interpret it, he’ll tell us if we should be worried or not.” He looked at me, his gaze softening, “I don’t plan on dying, especially now that I have to babysit you all the time.” He offered a small smile as he stood, vanishing beyond the doorway.
An hour or so later the front door swung open and several sets of footsteps echoed down the hall along with hushed voices, Yoongi turned to from his spot at the counter to face the doorway.
The first person to walk through the kitchen doorway was a noticeably tired Hoseok, he greeted Yoongi with a nod. He looked over at me and gave me a lazy half smile, “Hey, you.” I gave a soft smile in return.
“Sleep well?” He teased, approaching me and ruffling my hair—Yoongi shot him a look, so he pursed his lips and sat down in the chair next to mine. The next person to walk through the doorway was Jimin, who didn’t bother to acknowledge Yoongi, instead he rushed over to me, squatting down next to my chair to speak to me. “Oh gosh, Y/N, you look exhausted.” His hands on mine were warm and comforting; with him in the room I got the urge to cry again, I knew he understood, I knew he could feel what I was going through. Occasionally that psychic connection came in good use. He stood and hugged my head to his stomach, smoothing my hair down, I could feel him trying to urge his was into my mind, but I wouldn’t allow it—not yet.
A deeper and more commanding voice spoke next, one that ran chills down my spine and sent a small jolt of excitement through my stomach. “So…explain why we’re all here?” Tae asked.
“There was an…incident, involving a dream—” “You say that like it’s nothing—” “I did not—“ “A majority of psychics have premonitions in the form of dreams, that’s how our powers usually manifest first, you know that and you’re treating this like it’s nothing.” Jimin snapped, his voice was both amplified and muffled as I listened to him speak with my head against his stomach, frankly, it wasn’t doing anything to help the dull ache behind my eyes.
“And I know that things can be altered by course of action, so even if the dream was a sneak peak at my death—there can be ways to avoid it and change the outcome.” Yoongi snapped back.
“Yo, wait, who said anything about you dying?” Hoseok spoke, confusion lacing his voice.
There was silence, the clock ticking on the wall seemed to echo, taunting us all while Yoongi delayed his answer.
I pulled away from Jimin to speak, since Yoongi obviously wasn’t going to. “I had a dream, Yoongi was dying, someone—something else was here, in the house.” “Did you see it?” Tae asked, moving to sit at the head of the table. “No, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Yoongi knows what it was.” I cast a bitter glance at him, “That’s why he’s convinced he can avoid it, he knows the dream wasn’t just bullshit but he doesn’t want to admit it.” I could see Yoongi grit his teeth as he closed his eyes, fighting back a bitter remark.
“Y/N, how was Yoongi dying in your dream?” Hoseok asked, swiveling in his seat to face me, eyebrows furrowed—a sudden fire, a sudden bitterness burned in his eyes, it was almost alarming to see him out of character. “He was bleeding from his eyes and shit, wasn’t he?” I gaped back at him, “Yeah…just like that.”
Hoseok gave me a petty smile before turning to Yoongi, “When was the last time you checked—” “Shut up—” “Obviously it—” “I said—” Yoongi stepped forward like he was ready to fight Hoseok into silence.
“GUYS!” Tae slammed his hand down on the table silencing Yoongi and Hoseok’s bickering, causing everyone to jump in the process.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so, “Let’s not fight…we need to be calm about this, this isn’t something we should waste time bickering over.” “Calm, Calm?” Hoseok shouted as he stood up abruptly, his chair nearly tipping over backwards.
“Y/N, you wanna know what you saw?” Hoseok turned to me. “Don’t you da—” “The thing in the basement—that we’re all afraid of—got out, that’s what you saw.” Everyone went stiff, the air seemed to freeze over, and the chill seeped into every inch of my skin reaching my bones in a way that made my body ache. A paralyzing fear wrapped fingers around my throat and my mind blanked, unwilling to process the words he just spoke.
“The…what…” I breathed, I had forgotten about the thing in the basement. “Yeah, that, and it’s coming back.” Hoseok sat back down in his chair—though it wasn’t anywhere near the table anymore, he crossed his arms and stared down at his outstretched legs, isolating himself in petty anger.
“When did that happen?” Tae spoke, snapping everyone’s attention back to the present.
“This morning.” Yoongi spoke, his gaze fixated on the floor. I saw Hoseok squirm in his chair and then draw his legs in to sit up straight from the corner of my eye. “When this morning?” Tae asked, his eyes finding mine. “Minutes before she woke up screaming.”
“You can’t avoid us…” Hoseok spoke, his voice was low and monotone, almost…feminine? “For we are many…” Everyone went wide eyed and turned to look at Hoseok.
His head hung, seemingly staring down at his lap; his hands had a vice grip on the arms of his chair, knuckles white and veins raised. “Pop culture or scripture? Either way they are the words of man, foolish and stupid.” When he picked his head up his eyes were pitch black, “You are foolish and stupid, Yoongi, I tried to warn you.” A grin that belonged to someone else stretched across Hoseok’s lips. A chill snapped down my spine like the crack of a whip, I wanted to bolt out of my seat—out of the house—it looked…wrong on his face.
“But you shut me out, for years.” “How dare you-” Yoongi breathed, his chest expelling the words along with all of the air in his lungs.
“I was never your enemy, Yoongi. I was only what you made me…but I made you—and this is how you repaid me? Locking me away…”
“Rathshiva…” I spoke, her name slipping off my tongue before I could stop it. “Yes, child.” Hoseok, no, Rathshiva turned to look at me.
“Our little witch has been collecting demons to harvest their power, right under our noses—sentenced me to limbo, destroyed my body so I couldn’t come back and stop him.” She looked back at Yoongi, “How do you feel now that your little secret is out?” There was a snarl to Her words, but the way His lip curled, it almost looked smug.
“I wasn’t harvesting their power I was c-collecting them…to stop them.” Yoongi got defensive. “And using their power in the process?” “It was necessary to protect myself—don’t forget you’re the one creating them in the first place.” He clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn’t dare move.
Rathshiva fake gasped and with a tsk of her tongue she spoke, “No, Child, I wasn’t creating demons, I was creating witches—witches who couldn’t handle the power and became demons—you’ll end up on the same path if you’re not careful.”
“You kept making them after things went wrong, you knew what you were doing.” Yoongi spoke, his voice dropping quieter each time he opened his mouth, like he knew arguing was effortless. He has been caught.
Jimin and I were frozen in our places, both of us radiating anxious fear. Tae, on the other hand, seemed unphased and unsurprised.
“NO!” Rathshiva boomed, flashing across the room—she moved like Tae in Hoseok’s body—fast as a blur; everyone flinched and jerked in response to Her outburst. Yoongi pressed his body back against the counter, leaning as far away from Her as he could without moving from his spot.
“No, I can’t make them right from over here, I kept making them because I was trying to find a body to use, a body that could handle the magic, so it could handle me. I’ve been trying to come back—I was willing to clean up my mess, but you denied me.” Yoongi was trembling. His face and lips were pale, and his eyes were blown out and frantic—searching every inch of Hoseok’s face like he couldn’t believe he was seeing this. The energy he was putting out was making me sick to my stomach, I could feel the air itself trembling; I could feel the shock, the realization that everything he had just crumbled before his very eyes.
“You denied me, because you got greedy—blaming me for years when you are the one causing your own downfall.” She took a step back, sucking in a breath to compose herself. “The only thing I’ve been meddling with was your little psychic friend so that I had a connection to your world, I needed a way to watch you…I have no real power in the place you put me, that’s why you put me there—remember?”
Yoongi blinked, staring at Her, frozen in his spot. I saw the way his throat contracted, and the way his chest concaved in and his body bowed forward as more air was forced from his lungs—he looked like he was about to throw up, his entire body wracked with the blow of the situation.
“Bring me my body and let me out, maybe I’ll consider cleaning up your mess and saving your life in the process—until then, I’m keeping this one while I have it, while it can handle me.” Rathshiva rolled Hoseok’s neck and crossed his arms.
She wasn’t asking, she was demanding.
Yoongi glanced around the room, I stared back, shocked at what I was hearing. “There’s no way…” Jimin breathed, speaking what was also on my mind. “Oh, there is, Child. The vampire knows because he’s been around the longest, I was never the enemy.” Rathshiva turned and walked around the table, running Hoseok’s hand across Tae’s back as she passed before sitting back down in the seat next to mine.
“Make your choice, Yoongi, it’s time to face the facts. You’ve been denying the truth even from yourself, it seems as though you’ve started to believe it.”
Yoongi locked eyes with Her, it almost seemed like his mind was shutting down and he was self-destructing mentally. The way his eyes shook in their sockets as he stared at her, his knuckles were white from his fists being balled in the material of his jeans at the sides of his thighs; sweat was shining on his neck and face. He was in shock.
He sucked in a deep breath and glanced around at us all before he bolted across the room and down the hall, I could hear how he stumbled into the furniture lining the hallway.
The front door opened and closed with a loud ‘clunk’ and there was silence in the room for a moment too long, silence that was laced with overwhelming adrenaline and terror—which wrapped around my throat and ran a chill throughout my body.
Judging by the way Jimin was pale and spaced out, staring at where Yoongi previous stood—he was feeling the effects too, though he looked close to puking.
“If he’s smart, he’ll return with my body.” Rathshiva spoke, scooting the chair closer to the table and folding Hoseok’s hands neatly on the surface. “I believe he will, he knows he’s in too deep, I’ve been telling him for years and I think he’s finally getting it.” Tae ran a hand over his face and then up through his hair, sighing.
“Wait…” Jimin whispered, snapping his attention to Tae. “You guys…you’re—you,” He sputtered on his words. “Take a seat, I’ll tell you the story…” Rathshiva spoke, Tae nodded when Jimin looked from Hoseok to him. “You’re taking her side? What are you guys...Friends?” Jimin spoke, breathless, once he sat down.
“More like…Taehyung is my level-headed…acquaintance.” Rathshiva spoke inclining Hoseo—or Her head now, lacing His fingers under His chin.
“You trust my judgement, don’t you?” Tae spoke up as he eyed Jimin—who looked like he was between throwing up and crying—the anxiety building in the air wasn’t doing him any good. Jimin made a noise in his throat that could have been a gag or a noise of agreement.
And so, Tae continued. “As she said, I was always a little more level headed, I was able to take a step back and see everything from a broader view—I understood some of the…logics?—” Tae quirked an eyebrow “—behind her motives, why she did the things she did, granted…some of it was…” Tae paused, choosing his words carefully. “Please, speak freely, I’m intrigued about what you have to say.” Rathshiva arched an eyebrow and the corner of Hoseok’s lip twitched into an evil smirk.
Tae nodded once before continuing, “Impulsive and twisted, but understandable in a way—there certainly were better ways to go about some of the things she did, but Yoongi being Yoongi…if things don’t go his way, he kinda loses it, as we all know.” Tae sucked in a breath.
“In short, her morality is fucked, but she usually meant well—she does like to be an evil bitch sometimes, but who doesn’t?” Rathshiva breathed a laugh at Tae’s blunt statement. “I’ve been painted as the bad guy for years, if you’re not with him, you’re against him and that makes you a monster.”
“Didn’t you try to kill Yoongi? Like…twice?” Jimin asked, his voice quiet but steady as he locked eyes with Tae; avoiding acknowledging Rathshiva directly was keeping him semi-sane. “Kill? No, I would never kill my children—hurt them a little? Yes, but that’s how they learn, I’m sure you’ve heard of Punishment and Reinforcement.”
“How long have you been banished to…limbo or wherever?” I asked, She slid her eyes to me next, Her dark gaze prodding uncomfortably into mine, into me. “How long has it been now? Eight years?” She spoke, Tae nodded. “Eight, then.” Her lip curled, disdain apparent in the expression forming on Hoseok’s face.
Eight…years.
It was so strange and foreign to see such expressions form on his face, to hear Her voice through his body, it made a question to come mind—“Where is Hoseok?” “On the back burner, he’s in his own subconscious—it’s like…taking a nap.”
“Why do you keep referring to us as child or your children?” Jimin asked, his voice louder, more confident as he sat up straight—the anxiety was starting to disperse, and the menacing vibe died out with it. “Don’t you know?” Rathshiva asked, lowering Hoseok’s hands to the table to properly face Jimin. “K-know what?” He asked, looking between all of us.
“All witches—psychics, seers, practitioners of magic—whatever you be—if you possess the ability to perform some type of magic or have a…gift, you are a descendant of mine, all witches derived from me.” Rathshiva answered, Hoseok’s eyebrows dipped in confusion. “Wait, really? I didn’t even know that…” Tae sat up straight, leaning his forearms on the table.
“Yes, all witches are mine.” “I thought you just created the immortal Great Witches?” Tae furrowed his eyebrows. “I specifically created those types of witches, yes, but they were already born with the ability to practice and therefore are related to me, I was the first witch, in a sense, the first Magical Entity.”
Something clicked, like adjusting the camera lens to see a clear picture. “So, you’re like…a deity?” I asked, “In a way, yes, not quite human not quite otherworldly—because I inhabit a physical body—though I belong more to the other side than here, because I am an entity.” She inclined her head as she spoke, it was clear she was stating her superiority—something I’ve seen too often with Yoongi. Most of the time I wanna smack him upside the head when he speaks down to me like that.
“I have ties to both planes, I’m able to go back and forth between the two—unless I get put in an enchanted limbo, crafted by demons, without having a vessel to return to.” She gave a bitter grin. “Once you get put into a lower dimensional limbo, you have to wait for whoever put you there to take you back out, even myself—the spirit worlds and other realms have laws of their own, things even I cannot break, because they don’t belong to me.”
“…I was told you were a demon…that the magic consumed you, and you became one of those things.” Jimin stared blankly at the table top, I could almost hear him working this through his mind. I’m guessing Yoongi brainwashed him the most.
“Child, I am the magic.” Rathshiva spoke, cocking her head to the side, a sly grin tugging at the corner of Hoseok’s mouth.
I took a moment to process this. “This all makes sense, actually...” I briefly locked eyes with Tae before looking to Rathshiva. “What do you mean?” She asked. I saw Jimin shift in his seat, so his body was facing me as I spoke.
“You’re an entity, a deity of magic—you are the magic,” I breathed a laugh as realization set in, my skin began to hum as a new adrenaline took over.
“In any mythology or theology, the Gods lived by their own ways, their morals were a little fucked too—that explains why you are the way you are. I-I mean, I think we all know every God was,” I paused to breathe, paused to find words, “a little…questionable in their intentions, and it’s not really an excuse for their actions…but all Gods meddle, so you really could have always had good intentions—but it was the way you went about things that set everyone off.”
I wanted to laugh, laugh at the way it all made sense, laugh at the way the whole situation sucked, laugh at the way it was terrifying but alarmingly okay. The room was humming with adrenaline, so many things were happening and coming into light—I almost don’t know how to handle it, I felt like I might burst at the seams. “Other realms have laws of their own, their own moral code, that’s why you clash with humans, with Yoongi—Gods can’t live among men without chaos, you’re not of this plane, so you can’t live here.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be alarmed by the eerie smile that spread across Hoseok’s lips or not—not until Rathshiva said, “I like this one, she gets it…”
“Y/N is a kindred spirit in her openminded view of things, she sees the bigger picture.” Tae spoke, shooting me a wink.
“So…wait, we’re really r-related?” Jimin asked, looking around at everyone at the table, Jimin didn’t pass Go and collect two hundred dollars, he was stuck in Jail, battling with his own mind—realization was hitting him the slowest. “As an entity I pass on my gifts not my genetics, we’re all related through the magic, not blood ties.” Rathshiva spoke, “I never bore a child, but you’re all mine.”
“Holy shit…” Jimin breathed, eyes wide but not present—he was still somewhere deep in his mind. That’s when I laughed, a laugh that sounded strange coming from my own mouth, but there it was.
And then I was crying again, and everyone was staring at me. “Perhaps…she should rest…I feel that this has all been too heavy on her mind.” Rathshiva spoke, her voice sounded distant, but all too close.
Everything was blurry, sound was distant, things seemed to move in slow motion. I recognized the hands touching me, they were cold, and they gave a feeling of death.
Jimin briefly passed in my vision, even in the haze I could see that his eyes were wide and full of panic as he was left sitting at the table with Rathshiva, Rathshiva in Hoseok’s body. Hoseok.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked Tae, he had one hand on my lower back guiding me and the other wrapped around my upper arm. “Who? They’re all in a little bit of a…rough place right now.” Tae’s breath was hot compared to his skin as it fanned across my face. “Give it five more seconds, Jimin will be joining you in your mental breakdown.”
“I felt a lot of things today and the day isn’t half over.” I blinked in confusion, we were standing in my bedroom, though I don’t remember walking up the steps—with the way my knees felt, I probably couldn’t have walked up the steps anyway.
“Why do I feel sick every time you touch me?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “Ouch,” Tae breathed with a laugh. “I’m dead…you’re feeling death, Y/N.” “But you’re here.” “I’m immortal.”
“How does that work? What’s the magic behind it? The science? I need answers...” Tae looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or run.
“You need to lay down, your mind took a beating today, this is the mental collapse Yoongi was afraid would happen back when you started working with your powers.” Tae spoke, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me back to lay down.
“Stay with me?” I asked, I wanted to look at him, but I was afraid that if I moved my head, I would puke. I felt like I was swimming in space. “I’m going to go get Jimin, he’s about to start losing it too, I think I can hear him repressing the urge to cry, and Rathshiva is enjoying it too much.”
“Her energy is too much to handle, it feels really scattered and overwhelming…she’s really that bitch—I mean witch, she’s that witch…don’t tell her I said that.”
I heard him chuckle low in his throat, “I won’t, I’ll be back…”
What felt like ten minutes was probably only ten seconds, and then Jimin was joining me in bed; his eyes were glazed over, and he looked pale. Tae tucked in Jimin and then sat on the edge of the bed, “I’m going to sit down stairs and chat with our guest while we wait for Yoongi, you two need to stay up here, okay?” “Need?” I repeated. “Yes, no matter what—noises, voices, anything, you stay in this room, got it?” He patted Jimin’s stomach, and then stood. “Tae?” I lolled my head to the side to look at him, “Don’t let anyone die…”
Tae smiled, though with the way the laugh bubbled past his lips, he sounded nervous, “I won’t.” He wasn’t fully confident in his words, but he said them, and then he left, taking one last glance into the room.
“Tae?” He was gone, but I knew he could still hear me, “Don’t be a martyr.”
Then dissociation set it, I spent some time locked in my own mind; derailed scenes—some from today, some not—floated in and out, nothing really seemed to make sense anymore, the moment of clarity was gone. I could hear Jimin’s breathing as he laid next to me—unmoving and probably spaced out. “What if this is all one big shared delusion?” I spoke, narrowing my eyes as I stared at the ceiling. “I don’t think all of us can go crazy at once…not about the same thing.” “People can share delusions, Jimin, it happened in France.” “What are you even talking about?” “I don’t know.”
Silence fell after that. The energy was slowly dispersing—it seems being distant from Rathshiva was working. Though I wondered what the overwhelming energy was doing to Hoseok’s body, I wondered if he would have a body to come back to…I wondered if Yoongi found her body.
When my mind cleared enough to register my surroundings, I could have laughed in disbelief, the sun was setting. Yoongi hadn’t come back yet, and hours had passed…what if something went wrong? What if he ran?
“Why…do you think he did it?” I asked, I could feel my heart speed up at my own question, I didn’t really want an answer, but I did. “He…wanted power? I guess.” Jimin mumbled. “Power…as if he didn’t have enough of it…” I scoffed, I couldn’t grasp why he was doing it, why take that risk?
“Like he said, he was using it.” Jimin rolled over to face me, I didn’t move to match his position though, I didn’t want to, it would make the conversation too real—but I still needed to know. “I don’t buy the ‘I was protecting myself’ bit, protecting himself from what?” Jimin was silent, I used the silence to create my own theories.
“I think he was using it to keep her there, he could do whatever he wanted with her away, he was using the demons to do his bidding…she said the limbo was lower dimensional, demon made, maybe he used them to keep her away?” I could feel the muscles in my forehead shift as my eyebrows bunched together. I needed confirmation.
“Why did he want to keep her away though? What else was he doing?” I whispered to myself. “I don’t know…I don’t…want to know.” Jimin whispered back, shifting so he was staring up at the ceiling again.
An uncomfortable tension grew in the silence. I didn’t like this waiting game, I felt like I was coming out of my skin.
“Y/N?” “Huh?” “What…do you think is going to happen?” I looked over, this time Jimin was the one who didn’t move to meet my gaze. “He’s going to bring her body back, that’s what he went to do, what else would happen?”
“But…what if…” Jimin squirmed, he didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to make it real—and I didn’t want to know.
“What if that thing comes back, before he does?” The anxiety was back, thick in the air and it slipped down my throat like sludge, I couldn’t respond at first—and so he kept talking. “None of us can really…fight it.” He turned his head to face me, “Rathshiva is limited, barely holding it down in Hoseok’s body; me, you and Tae don’t have any powers like that, and even if—we’d be defenseless against a demon.” I hated this, absolutely hated it. “Jimin…don’t say that…” Shut up, shut up, shut UP. “It’s not going to happen like that, she’ll get her body back, she’ll help if she has to, she…said she would.”
I didn’t know that though, not for sure, none of us did. All we could do was wait. I didn’t doubt that she would help, I didn’t doubt that Yoongi would make it back with her body…but I did doubt when, because then what?
There was a loud thump from down stairs, and Jimin and I both went rigid. Silence followed, one, two, three seconds and then, “It’s okay!” Tae called up the steps. Jimin sucked in a breath of relief. “What do you think that was?” Jimin whispered.
“Rathshiva briefly leaving Hoseok’s body.” Tae said from the other side of the door before coming in, Jimin and I both jerked in surprise.
“She left?!” I sat up, Tae nodded. “She had to, or she’d destroy his body—he hit the floor, but he’s lying down on the couch now.” “But what if the thing comes back? Then what?” I recycled Jimin’s question, now that it was a prevalent concern. Tae swallowed thickly, “Then we…uh, you guys stay up here, and I’ll worry about it, but in the meantime, I’m moving you into Yoongi’s room—it’s protected…just in case.”
“It’ll rip you apart.” Jimin gushed. Tae blinked in response, nervously flexing his hands at his side. “I can handle it, long enough, don’t worry. Yoongi should be back soon.” He didn’t sound sure, and I hated that. “Why not come into Yoongi’s room with us then?” I asked, “I can’t, I’m not permitted to enter, it’s protected—anything that’s not living, breathing, flesh and blood can’t enter.”
“Then I’m not going, it’s not fair.” I spoked, balling my fists in the blanket. “Don’t be difficult, come on, get up.” Tae sighed, moving towards the bed, I didn’t move. “I’m fine here, Jimin can go.” After a second of contemplation, Jimin shook his head, “Hoseok is passed out down stairs, so what about him? I’m not going either—we all go, or none of us go.”
“So, then what? We all die because you’re stubborn? What happened to not being a martyr?” The dark look that crossed over Tae’s face as he spoke was enough to paralyze the breath in my throat, and once his words set in, I was back.
“What happened to none of us dying, huh?” Tae opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by the front door crashing open, all of us froze, wide eyed. “It’s Yoongi,” Tae breathed before rushing out of the room in a blur. I stayed for a breath of my own and then I was up, nearly tripping over the blanket as I took it with me. “Where are you going?!” Jimin yelled, scrambling to stand. “Down stairs.” I rushed out of the door and down the steps.
“HEY!” Jimin yelled again, stopping at the top of the steps. I only made it halfway down the hallway before Tae sprung out of the parlor doorway, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me into the room. “What are you DOING?!” He hissed all too loud into my ear. “I want to see!” I fought against him, catching a glimpse of Hoseok on the couch, he looked a little…too relaxed. “Is he okay?” I tried to pull away from him again, before I got an answer, I heard Yoongi yell, “TAE!” from the kitchen. “Not now.” Tae spat at me, dragging me with him as he left for the kitchen.
When we got to the kitchen, Tae let me go but stood firmly in the doorway, trapping me in the kitchen; his eyes were flaming, and his nostrils flared as he breathed out.
“What.” He spoke to Yoongi through clenched teeth, I turned too, my gaze landed on Yoongi before it wandered to the body on the table. All of the chairs were knocked over, kicked out of the way and away from the table. “Is that—” “Why is she down here?” Yoongi threw a wild-eyed look my way, he was rushing around, making a circle around the table with black salt and herbs. His hair was disheveled, and his bangs clung to his forehead with sweat, sweat soaked through his shirt and it stuck to his skin.
He looked insane, frantic, almost unrecognizable in this state.
“I need, I-I need…” Yoongi breathed, “The book from my table in the basement, get the book from the table in the basement.” Tae was gone before Yoongi could finish his sentence.
I approached the table, careful to not get too close to the circle.
The body on the table was thin—petite and short, she couldn’t have been more than five-foot-two. “Is this…” I trailed off. She was pale enough that you could see the blue veins running underneath the skin of her arms and neck, though the veins were primarily black along the backs of her hands and around her eyes. Her fingernails were long and black, as were her fingertips, but it faded back into pale skin at the middle knuckle.
The features of her face were sharp and angular, the eyes were closed—but I knew that once they opened, they would be pitch black—dark lashes feathered thick from gray eyelids. Her lips were gray, but black licked along the seam in an oddly natural ombre. Dark, bold brows matched her hair, which fell in wild curls, almost unkept.
Her dress, frayed at the elbows, was off white and dingy; it laced at the bust and stopped at her ankles—she wasn’t wearing shoes, her feet were like her hands—black to pale.
Yoongi started reading from his book, I hadn’t noticed that Tae came back up, I hadn’t noticed the exchange, I hadn’t noticed him pulling at my arm until he spoke. “Come on, we’re going back upstairs.” “No…” I pushed his hands away weakly, I wanted to watch, it was…bewitching, she was bewitching.
I noticed something, a messy circle of pointed sticks laid over her stomach, it can’t be what I think it is. “What is that?” I pointed to it. “Crown of thorns, to mock Christ.” It was.
Tae tugged at my arm again, “No,” I jerked away from his grip. “Leave her.” Yoongi spat between reciting his mantra. Tae made a noise in his throat but didn’t push, he wandered out of the room and down the hall—back to the parlor.
The lights flickered, and the house hummed with electricity—just as it did any time Yoongi channeled a lot of magic. The room spun with a source-less, chilled breeze and the lights cut out; I could barely make out Yoongi and the table, but he kept working.
“Y/N?” I didn’t recognize the voice, the whisper—I barely heard it over Yoongi—but I answered. “Huh?” I looked around the room, though I couldn’t see anyway.
“Don’t talk to it.” Tae was back, appearing silently behind me and breathing down the back of my neck—hands firmly planted on my waist—catching me off guard, I let out a yelp and then slapped my hand over my own mouth. “Don’t. Talk. To. It.” He repeated firmly, his forehead pressed against the back of my head, “Don’t answer it. I’ll be back. Don’t move.” He whispered, and then he was gone.
It’s coming, it’s here.
My heart sped up and my palms began to sweat; the anxiety crept up my spine and trickled down—crackling softly like electricity—down to my heels and back up to the back of my neck.
It felt like someone was—The hallway creaked behind me, as if on cue.
I hoped it was Tae. No, he’s silent, quick, like a shadow.
The hallway creaked again, closer, and the air left my lungs. I kept my eyes on the spot where I knew Yoongi was, even if I could only see the outline of his body. The heat from my palms traveled up to my armpits, up to my scalp, and the coil of anxiety in my stomach felt like it might burst at any second. The hair on the back of my neck prickled almost painfully as it stood on end, warning me—it was close.
“Y/N?” The voice was soft, feminine, almost…childlike. I shook my head at the thought. It’s not real. “Y/N…please…” The voice shifted, now sounding like Hoseok; tired, weak, scared.
Or…was it Hoseok? He didn’t look good when I saw him. I know Rathshiva could have destroyed his body—that’s why she left it…maybe she left it because she destroyed it?
No, no he’s fine. Tae would have said something…right? Or would he? Maybe he didn’t want to say anything because— the floor creaked, right behind me, it’s right there.
“Y/N, I need help…I can’t breathe…she…hurt…me.” The voice died out in a low, gargling noise, followed by a splatter—as if someone spilled something; and then there was a thud, like someone hit the floor…or the wall? I couldn’t tell.
No, no this feels wrong, I need to check, I need to.
“Hoseok?” I whispered, not wanting to move. “Y/N.” He said again, low, as if it was coming from the floor. “Hos-” I shifted to turn. “DON’T!” Tae’s voice boomed from the bottom of the steps, I jumped and shifted back to face Yoongi; wide eyed, my heart hammering in my chest. There was a faint chuckle from behind me, and a dragging noise, “Let’s see the boy for real then…” the voice was deep, guttural, inhuman.
“No!” Tae and I said at the same time, his voice coming out much louder than my own, there was a spring of footsteps and then a loud crash, the sound of glass breaking followed.
A cackle ripped through the air, and there was a yell of pain coming from an all too familiar deep voice. “No, no, no, nonono.” Tears stung my eyes and my throat seized up with the urge to yell out—and so I did, “Do something!” I yelled at Yoongi, who kept repeating his mantra, his voice cracked in response. I knew there was nothing he could do, we needed Rathshiva.
There were more bangs and shatters, the furniture lining the hallway audibly collided with walls—the deafening sound of splintering wood mixed with muffled curses and yelps echoed with Yoongi’s mantra.
It was too much.
The noises halted and there was a loud, drawn out gasp as the unmistakable sound of someone being punched resonated tauntingly down the hall; the raspy chuckle that came next made my stomach lurch with the need to puke. “Do you feel my fingers in your heart, boy?” There was a wet gurgling noise and a splatter—as if flicking paint at a canvas—and then there was nothing from the hallway. Yoongi stuttered over his mantra, the last of the words leaving his mouth in a rush of air. Tears leaked from my eyes and I covered my mouth to stop the sob. There was no doubt what that was, what that meant.
The electricity in the air cracked and dropped, and so the lights in the house turned back on. “Don’t look, don’t turn around!” Yoongi’s voice was hoarse as he spoke from his position on the floor, his back was against the counter and his knees were pulled into his chest; he was staring wide eyed at the table, his face and neck were visibly dripping sweat.
Rathshiva’s body arched off of the table and then it dropped, she was still for a second, then two, then three—and then she sprang to life. She moved like Tae as she took off down the hall, but in a black haze of mist.
There was a long, animalistic, inhuman scream; and I heard several of the light bulbs in the next room—the room closest to Rathshiva—shatter. “Y/N come here, come here.” Yoongi jumped to his feet and rushed around the table to grab me, he pulled me to the farthest corner away from the kitchen doorway, I could feel his hand trembling as he gripped my arm.
Once the light show ended, he sucked in a deep breath and dropped his arm from mine. “I…I need you to stay here…please…stay here. Right here.” Yoongi looked to me with wild eyes, his breath was coming out in pants. He took a hesitant step away from me, facing me as he did so, I nodded; I couldn’t half see him through the haze of tears. He took another slow step, and then turned on his heel and bolted towards the door way; but he stopped in the doorway and stared into the hallway. His shoulders slumped, and his lips parted as air forced its way from his lungs, he wasn’t looking around—he was fixated on a single spot—and I knew.
My back hit the wall and I sucked in raspy breath, and it left again in a wail. I slid down the wall, gripping my own throat with both hands. Several wracked sobs left my throat before I looked over again, Yoongi was no longer standing in the doorway—he had gone down the hall.
“Is-is-is,” I couldn’t get it out, my throat wouldn’t allow it.
After a few painfully quiet seconds, Yoongi wandered back into the kitchen, his face was blank, and his eyes were distant; bloody shoe prints followed him, and he stopped next to me, sliding down the wall to join me. “Is…” I sucked in a breath and wiped my face frantically, trying to compose myself, as if it would help me speak, as if it would fix the situation. “Is he…dead?” Fresh tears spilled as the word left my lips. Yoongi opened and closed his mouth but didn’t say anything, instead he reached over and put his hand on my knee.
“And Hoseok?” I asked. “He’s…fine.” “But Tae…?” I needed to hear it, he had to say it.
“His heart is at the other end of the hallway, but I can fix that.” Rathshiva materialized from black mist in the kitchen, “He’s not headless, that’s good. That—I cannot fix.”
“Yoongi, help me.” She spoke, her dress swishing around her legs as she walked out of the room. “Wha- wait, what?” Yoongi jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he rushed after her, “Y-You can fix that?”
“Yes…He’ll wake up, good as new—as will your little ghost walker friend.” Rathshiva’s voice sounded distant—I was still trying to wrap my brain around what she said.
She can fix this…
“Cleaning up, on the other hand, that won’t be fun.” Her eerie chuckle echoed down the hall.
A/N: First things first, I wanted to end it a little annoyingly. Why? Because I hate cliffhangers/unresolved endings. So why not make EVERYONE SUFFER by lowkey doing that??
Also, I combined the basement reveal with Rathshiva’s reveal. Two birds one stone, and I felt it fit better in a way? So! Here’s my favorite evil bitch! God, she’s been haunting me for AGES! It feels nice to let the cat out of the bag finally. I read through this twice, but I find its hard to spot spelling errors/typos when you read your own writing, because you already know what it’s going to say—so if you come across one—please ignore it fusdhgjskdg
I hope you enjoyed this part! Thank you so much for reading!
Feel free to send Rathshiva (or anyone else) some love! She’s open for muse chat—where you can ask her questions, interact with her directly or just come hang out with us~
(Any muse of mine, that has been introduced, is open for muse chat!)
I got the idea (and permission) from one of my favourite blogs- duizhangdeluxe, she does a muse chat where you get to talk to her muses, please check her and her lovely boys out! -K