Nickname: Lun (She/Her)
Level 33 ♋
Gamer, Fanfiction Writer, Digital Doodler
For the Ask Button: Please name the OC you want to ask your question and I will get to it as soon as I can!
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**I do my own work so, no I don't need commissions or Beta readers**
(Using fanfiction to work through my trauma. Don't worry. I'm fine. 😊)
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Index for Hazbin Hotel AU: Daemon Angelus -> Here
Index for Hazbin Hotel AU: Daemon Angelus Art (Part 1) -> Here
Index for Hazbin Hotel AU: Daemon Angelus Art (Part 2) -> Here
Index for Gravity Falls AU: Dreamer -> Here
Index for Dandy's World -> Here
Index for Pokémon: PokéDex Horror Stories & Art -> Here
Hugh's voice rang through the living room loud enough to make everyone wince.
His father sighed into his coffee as his mother pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.
His sister, Mary, meanwhile, stood proudly in the middle of the room with the newest member of the family perched atop her shoulder. The tiny Hatenna tilted its head curiously before giving Hugh a timid look from beneath its pale pink cap.
“You're six,” Mary said, unable to hide the grin spreading across her face. “You can't even remember to brush your teeth unless Mom tells you.”
“I can too!” Hugh protested.
“You forgot yesterday.”
“I didn't forget!”
“You brushed them after breakfast because Mom made you.”
Hugh's face reddened.
“That doesn't count!”
Mary laughed.
Their father raised a hand before the argument could spiral further.
“Hugh,” he said patiently, “your sister's ten now. That's the age trainers in Galar are allowed to receive their first partner Pokémon.”
“But I want one now!” Hugh whined.
“I know you do.”
“It isn't fair!”
“I know.”
Hugh folded his arms so tightly they almost disappeared beneath his shirt.
“You love Mary more than me.”
His mother's expression softened immediately.
“Oh, sweetheart... that's not true.”
“Then why does she get a Pokémon?” Hugh demanded. “She's a big meanie!”
“Because she's old enough.”
“I'm old enough! I'm almost seven!”
“In eight months,” Mary muttered.
“I heard that!” Hugh shouted, pointing at his sister.
“You were supposed to,” she teased with a smug smirk.
Their father shot her a warning look, but Mary just shrugged innocently.
Trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, their mother knelt in front of Hugh.
“You're still too young right now,” she said gently. “But... if you could choose any Pokémon in the whole world, what would you want when you're old enough?”
Hugh didn't even have to think.
“A Drifloon!”
The room fell silent.
Mary blinked and looked to their father who slowly lowered his coffee mug.
Their mother's smile disappeared as though someone had wiped it from her face.
“A... Drifloon?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah!” Hugh beamed. “They had a bunch at the carnival! They looked so fun! They floated around with all the kids and everybody was laughing!”
“No,” she said firmly, face pale.
Hugh frowned.
“What?”
“No Drifloon.”
“Why?”
“I said no.”
“But—”
“No,” she said, her voice sharp enough to make even Mary flinch.
Hugh's eyes immediately began to water.
“But I want a Drifloon!”
“You can choose any other Pokémon.”
“I don't want another Pokémon!”
“Hugh—”
“I want a Drifloon!”
His mother stood so suddenly her chair scraped loudly across the floor.
“I said no!” she shouted so loud the words echoed through the house.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Tears welled in Hugh's eyes.
Without another word, their mother turned and hurried into the kitchen.
Silence settled over the room.
“I... I just wanted a balloon Pokémon...” Hugh sniffled.
Their father stared into his untouched coffee for several long seconds before setting the mug aside.
“There was another reason your mother reacted like that,” he said quietly.
Mary looked over as Hugh rubbed at his eyes.
“When your mother was little, she had a younger sister,” he continued, telling the story neither child ever heard before. “And one day, she just... disappeared.”
“What happened?” Mary asked carefully, Hatenna holding onto her.
“No one knows for certain,” he murmured as he looked toward the kitchen. “She wandered away during a town festival. Witnesses said they'd seen her laughing while holding hands with a wild Drifloon.”
He let out a heavy sigh and looked down at the table.
“She was never seen again.”
The room became painfully still.
Even Hatenna lowered her head, sensing the sorrow hanging in the air.
“But... not every Drifloon is like that... right?” Hugh asked, trying to be hopeful.
“I don't believe so,” their father answered with a tired smile before looking toward the kitchen again. “But when someone loses family that way... it's hard not to be afraid.”
For a while, nobody spoke.
Then Mary nudged Hugh's shoulder with her elbow.
“You'd probably be fine anyway.”
Hugh looked up hopefully.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Mary said with a grin, looking him up and down dramatically. “Besides, Drifloon only carry away light kids. You're too chubby.”
Hugh's hopeful expression shattered.
“I am not!” he shouted, stomping his little feet.
“You kinda are,” Mary mocked, mimicking falling down. “You'd probably pull the Drifloon into the ground.”
“I would not!” Hugh cried, tears streaming down his face. “You're so mean!”
“Mary,” their father said firmly.
Her grin vanished and mumbled a sorry that didn't sound particularly sorry.
Hatenna quietly rested a tiny hand against Mary's shoulder, frowning at the overwhelming unhappy feeling in the room.
Hugh ran out of the room and straight for his bedroom, wailing all the way down the hall.
~n~
Dinner had been unusually quiet.
Their mother barely spoke, choosing instead to push food around her plate while their father attempted to keep the conversation alive with stories from work. Even Mary found herself speaking less than usual.
Hugh never came downstairs.
By the time the dishes had been washed and the evening settled into silence, Mary wandered down the hallway with her Hatenna toward his bedroom, finding his door halfway open.
She peeked inside to see Hugh lay across his bed, hugging his pillow with his face buried in it.
“...You still mad?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“No,” he grumbled into his pillow.
“...You're a terrible liar.”
“I said I'm not mad.”
Mary leaned against the doorframe with a sigh.
“You've been hiding in here all afternoon.”
Hugh rolled over, his eyes still red from crying.
“I just wanted a Pokémon, Mary. Like you,” he said quietly. “I wasn't trying to make Mom sad.”
“I know, Hugh,” Mary replied as she stepped in and sat on the edge of the bed. “I really think the problem is the kind of Pokémon you want.”
Hugh hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“I still want a Drifloon.”
Mary groaned dramatically.
“Still? After all of that?” she asked sharply. “You do understand they kidnap kids, right?”
“Not all of them,” Hugh retorted. “Besides, they're really cute.”
Mary crossed her arms.
“I'm sure Mom's sister thought the same thing,” she shot back. “Look how well that worked out.”
Hugh slowly sat up.
“If we found one...” he began cautiously, “...and showed Mom and Dad it was nice...”
Mary immediately shook her head.
“Heck no.”
“Please?” he begged.
“No!” she shouted. “I'm not getting grounded because you want to get kidnapped by a Pokémon!”
“Pleeeeease? I'll do anything!”
Mary raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously.
“Anything?” she purred, making Hatenna uncomfortable.
Hugh nodded so hard his messy hair bounced.
“Anything for Drifloon.”
Mary chuckled darkly, making her decision.
“Alright, twerp,” she chirped. “You've got a deal.”
Hugh's eyes lit up.
“Wait, really? Thanks, Mary—“
“But!” she interrupted with a raised finger. “You have to wear something for me.”
Before Hugh could answer, Mary hurried across the hall to her own bedroom, returning with a bright pink barrette shaped like a flower.
Hugh stared at it, frowning deeply.
“No way,” he whined. “It pink and has flowers. Boys don't wear flowers!”
“Exactly!” Mary chimed. “Perfect for you since you like being a little sissy.”
“I'm not wearing that,” Hugh huffed, firmly crossing his arms.
“Then I guess I'm not helping you,” Mary answered with a shrug, turning away with her Hatenna.
“W-Wait!”
Mary paused and looked back at Hugh who was staring at the tiny barrette with disgust.
“Only until we find the Drifloon.”
Mary hummed, smiling sweetly as she tapped her chin in mock thought.
“Nope. You gotta wear it the whole time.”
Hugh let out the deepest sigh his little lungs could manage.
“...Fine.”
Mary carefully clipped the flower into his messy hair before stepping back to admire her work and immediately bursting into laughter.
“Oh wow!” she wheezed. “You look ridiculous!”
“I hate you so much,” Hugh mumbled under his breath.
Mary leaned forward and pinched his cheek patronizingly.
“No, you don't,” she teased. “You can't hate me because I'm going to go look for your silly Pokémon tonight. That way you'll stop being such a crybaby, got it?”
“You're such a dork,” she mumbled, patting awkwardly on the back. Then she smiled and ruffled his hair. “Just don't get your hopes up. I'm a new Pokémon trainer after all.”
Hugh beamed up at his older sister.
“No promises, big sis!”
~n~
The house slept peacefully beneath the night sky.
Moonlight spilled through Mary's bedroom window. She quietly climbed back inside after slipping through it, brushing a few leaves from her pajamas. A smile spread across her face.
She hurried across the room and gently shook Hugh's shoulder.
“Psst, hey,” she whispered. “Get up, sleepy head.”
“...Five more minutes, Mom...” he whined.
Mary rolled her eyes and turned to her Hatenna.
“Wake him up.”
Hatenna jumped down from her shoulder and lightly slapped Hugh in the face.
He woke up with a snort, extremely disoriented.
“I'm up for school.”
Mary chuckled before snapping her fingers to get his attention.
“No school, yet, little man,” she teased. “I've got something better. I found your Pokémon.”
Sleep vanished in an instant.
“You did?!”
He practically launched himself out of bed, still wearing his blue pajamas decorated with Wooloo.
“You're not even going to change?” Mary snorted.
“What if it leaves?” he retorted as he jammed his feet into his shoes so quickly he nearly put them on the wrong feet.
“Hm, fair point,” she hummed before reaching into her pocket. “Oh, one more thing.”
Hugh looked up to see the pink flower barrette. His smile faded.
“Are you seriously going to make me wear that stupid thing?”
“A deal's a deal, little bro,” Mary sang as she clipped it into his hair.
Hugh groaned louder than ever before.
“Fine! Can we go now?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed as Hatenna giggled with her. “You know, I can probably spot you a mile away with that on.”
Before he could answer, she grabbed his hand and started to lead him out of his room.
“C'mon, sissy boy,” she teased. “Let's go get your new best friend before it floats away.”
As they entered the living room, Mary hesitated for a moment as she glanced back towards her parents' bedroom.
Then she looked down at Hugh's hopeful eyes.
“We'll only be gone for a few minutes, got it?”
He nodded firmly.
The front door clicked softly shut behind them as the two siblings disappeared into the moonlit night.
~n~
The cool night air greeted them as the siblings hurried down the moonlit path.
Mary led the way with Hatenna trotting faithfully beside her while Hugh practically bounced with excitement, struggling to keep his voice down.
“Is it really a Drifloon?” he asked loudly.
“Sure is.”
“How big is it?”
“I don't know. Drifloon sized?”
“Does it like people? Can I pet it? Can I—?”
“Hugh,” Mary cut him off. “You ask too many questions, squirt.”
“S-sorry,” Hugh said sheepishly.
Mary smirked, ruffling his hair.
“I know you're excited, but relax, okay?”
They rounded the last bend in the trail.
Just beyond an old wooden fence floated a lone Drifloon.
Its purple body bobbed gently in the breeze, a length of frayed rope loosely tied around one of its string-like arms and secured to a fence post. It drifted back and forth with quiet little squeaks, unable to wander farther than a few feet.
“Woah,” Hugh gasped, eyes wide with wonder. Slowly, he stepped toward the balloon Pokémon as though afraid it might vanish if he moved too quickly.
Drifloon turned toward him and lifted its yellow heart-shaped hands.
“Drifloon!” it called out happily.
“I think it just said hi,” Mary whispered with a grin.
Hugh's face lit up brighter than she'd ever seen.
“So cute!”
The little Pokémon floated closer as far as the rope would allow.
Hugh cautiously reached out, watching Drifloon gently bump its soft body against his hand.
“It likes me!” he giggled.
Hatenna quietly closed its eyes, letting a warm feeling wash over it—contentment and curiosity without a trace of anger or fear.
The tiny Psychic-type nodded reassuringly toward Mary.
“It's happy,” Mary said with a relieved smile. “See? Mom worried over nothing.”
Hugh slowly walked around Drifloon, admiring it from every angle.
“It's even prettier up close.”
Drifloon happily spun in place so he could see all of it.
“I wish I could take you with me,” Hugh murmured before his eyes dropped to the rope. “...You don't like being tied up, do you?”
“Hugh...” Mary warned, smile fading.
“It's okay, sis,” he said as he reached for the knot.
“Hugh, don't!” she shouted, but it was too late.
Hugh tugged once and the knot slipped free.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Drifloon hovered exactly where it was.
Mary let out the breath she'd been holding.
“See?” Hugh beamed. “I told you—“
Drifloon suddenly wrapped one of its string-like arms around Hugh's wrist, then another. Its body lifted, taking Hugh with it.
Mary froze.
“Hugh?”
Drifloon continued to rise.
“I-I think it wants to play,” Hugh laughed nervously.
“Drifloon!” the Pokémon chirped happily as it climbed higher.
“Hugh,” Mary said, panic creeping into her voice as she stepped forward.
“M-Mary?”
Drifloon didn't stop its ascent.
“Hugh! Let go!” Mary shouted.
“I can't!” he cried out. “It's holding on too tight!”
The balloon Pokémon drifted effortlessly above the fence.
“Mary!”
Mary's stomach dropped and she sprinted after them, her partner Pokémon gripping her shoulder.
“Hatenna! Use—“
Her voice caught in her throat.
'If Hatenna attacked... What if it hit Hugh instead?' she thought frantically. 'What if he fell?'
She couldn't risk it.
“Hugh!”
Drifloon continued climbing higher and higher, above the rooftops and above the treetops.
Mary stumbled over roots as she chased them into the forest, her lungs burning.
“Hugh!”
“I don't want to play anymore!” he screamed, his terrified cries echoing through the trees. “Mary! Mary! Help me! Please!”
She ran until her legs threatened to give out.
The purple balloon became smaller and smaller.
Then...
It disappeared into the night sky.
Silence fell over the forest.
Mary stood alone beneath the trees, gasping for breath.
The pink flower barrette was the last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed them both.
~n~
The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy as Mary wandered deeper into the woods than she'd ever gone before.
“Hugh!” she called out again. “Hugh, where are you?!”
Nothing responded but the wind wisping through the trees.
Beside her, Hatenna suddenly stopped walking, its tiny body stiffening.
Mary noticed right away.
“What is it, Hatenna?”
The Pokémon slowly turned its head toward the deeper forest as if sensing something.
Not fear but an overwhelming sadness.
But beneath it, recognition.
Hatenna suddenly broke into a run.
“H-hey!” Mary shouted as she sprinted after it.
Branches whipped across her arms as she pushed through the thick undergrowth.
“Hatenna! Slow down!”
But the little Pokémon never looked back.
Then she heard it.
A cry drifted through the trees.
It almost sounded like... a child crying.
Mary's heart skipped.
“Hugh?!”
She ran faster, dashing toward the source of the sound.
The crying came again.
“...Phaaant...”
She burst through a curtain of low branches into a small clearing.
An old tree stump stood in the center and beside it was a tiny Pokémon. Its wooden body resembled a weathered stump, while wisps of ghostly energy drifted from the top of its head.
It floated with its back to her.
“...Phantump...”
Mary's shoulders slumped.
“Oh...” she said quietly as disappointment washed over her. “I thought you were someone—“
Then the little Pokémon slowly turned around.
Clipped crookedly to one of the branches on its head... was a bright pink flower barrette.
Mary forgot how to breathe.
The world around her seemed to disappear.
The Phantump tilted its head as its glowing red eyes met hers.
Stan pulled up to the Rusty Nail, a weathered little building tucked into a corner of Main Street.
Neon signs flickered in the windows, casting colorful reflections against the deepening dusk. Laughter and clinking glasses spilled out every time the door swung open, along with a burst of classic rock and the low hum of conversations. A faded sign in the window advertised cheap wings and two-for-one drink specials—the kind of place built for regulars who wanted a good time and a distraction from small-town boredom.
Inside the car, silence lingered for a moment.
'Just another job,' Evalin thought as she took a deep breath. 'No different than making deals.'
Stan watched her from the driver's seat, eyebrow raised.
“Hey, Spooky. If you're nervous, we don't gotta do this.”
“And get my finger broken? No, thank you,” she shot back with a dry look. Before he could question that, she held out her hand expectantly. “Give me your shoes.”
“What?!” Stan shouted, recoiling.
“Godsdamn it, Stanley. I don't care how smelly your feet are. Just give me your fucking shoes,” she groaned, flexing her fingers impatiently.
Stan stared at her like she had finally snapped. For a long moment, he debated arguing, but eventually sighed and kicked them off, handing them over.
Evalin casually reached into her bra, pulled out a few leaves, and stuffed them into the shoes before handing them back.
“There. Now you can put them back on.”
Stan blinked at her.
“...Did you just pull leaves out of your tits?”
“They're mint leaves,” she replied matter-in-factly. “Putting them in your shoes increases good luck. They also help with the smell, but that's a side effect.”
Stan squinted down at the shoes, then back at her before letting out a long sigh.
“Do you always keep leaves in your bra?” he asked as he slipped his shoes back on.
“Not usually, but you said you needed luck,” she said with a small shrug. “Also, don't pick on me. Most of my dresses don't have pockets.”
Then she reached into her bra again and pulled out a marker.
“Now lift your shirt.”
Stan's face lit up instantly.
“Oh? I like where this is going,” he smirked, grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting. “I mean, I'd prefer to do this after a few drinks, but hey, I'm flexible—“
Before he could finish, Evalin leaned forward and started drawing on him.
The cold ink made him shiver.
“Woah—okay, weird foreplay, but I'm here for it.”
She ignored him completely, finishing the sigil before poking it. It shimmered once before fading. Then she popped the cap back on and tucked the marker back in her bra.
“Alright. Lower your shirt. We're ready to go.”
Stan glanced down at the symbol, poking it cautiously like it might bite him.
“Okay... I'll bite. What the hell was that?”
“I already told you. It's for luck,” she replied as she opened the car door, slightly annoyed. “Let's go. We have work to do.”
Stan sat there for a moment, watching her step out of the car.
“This is the weirdest fucking dame I've ever met in my entire life,” he mumbled to himself before smiling wide. “And I'm here for it.”
He chuckled as he climbed out and walked around the car to offer her his arm with an exaggerated flair. Evalin inhaled deeply, smoothing her expression into a polished, practiced smile before wrapping her arm around his.
In an instant, she shifted—Lady Luck stepping onto the stage.
“That's a good spot for you to perch,” Stan teased with a toothy grin.
“I'm not a bird,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Could you please focus?”
Still, she stayed close as they walked, and Stan found himself standing a little taller as he strutted toward the bar, enjoying the feeling of her on his arm.
'It's okay, Dreamer,' she told herself. 'Just another job.'
~n~
The moment they stepped inside, the smell of bitter hops, sharp whiskey, and sticky-sweet alcohol hit her. Noise filled the air—loud laughter, mugs slamming together, someone shouting over the music.
The room buzzed with chaotic energy, and Evalin's grip tightened around Stan's arm.
“Alright, Spooky,” he whispered as he patted her hand gently. “Let's show these losers the great power of Lady Luck.”
Her eyes widened slightly before nodding once.
Stan grinned back and led her through the crowd, weaving between rowdy patrons toward the back of the bar.
The atmosphere shifted the farther they went. Beer gave way to cigar smoke, and loud chaos softened into quiet murmurs and the steady rustle of cards. Three men sat around a poker table in the dim back room: Bud Gleeful, Manly Dan Corduroy, and Mayor Tyler Cutebiker.
“Stanley! Good to see you!” Bud said, his voice slick and welcoming. “My, my, you're looking rather young, aren't you?” His eyes slid to Evalin, smile widening. “And who's your lovely lady friend?”
Stan beamed, clapping his hand over Evalin's.
“This here's that crazy woodland lady I was tellin' you boys about last week. Meet Evalin Dreamer. Evi, the boys—Bud Gleeful, Manly Dan, and Mayor Tyler what's-his-face.”
“It's, um, Cutebiker,” Mayor Tyler corrected weakly.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Stan answered dismissively, waving him off.
Evalin chuckled and inclined her head politely, a gentle smile in place.
“It's nice to meet you all,” she said with grace. “Don't worry. I'm not going to interrupt your game. Stanley just felt it important to be introduced to the people of this lovely town.”
Mayor Tyler beamed.
“Well, aren't you the darnest thing? We welcome you, Evalin.”
Bud eagerly nodded while Manly Dan just nodded with a grunt.
“Oh yeah,” Stan murmured under his breath, pleased with how quickly they accepted her. “You'll do just fine, Spooky.”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
~n~
The game went into full swing, and within the hour Stan was already winning.
Evalin perched lightly on the arm of his chair, one hand resting on his shoulder while the other traced slow, idle patterns against her knee. She wasn't playing in the traditional sense, but she was very much part of the game.
Whenever Stan needed a boost, he tapped her hand and that was her cue.
Her eyes shimmered as the world shifted, revealing the glowing threads of probability weaving between the cards—thin, shimmering lines connecting every hand on the table like puppet strings. With the slightest twitch of her fingers, the threads adjusted and cards slid into place with impossible precision.
Stan leaned back, playing the role of naturally lucky gambler.
“Damn, Stan!” Manly Dan barked out a laugh. “You got some real luck tonight!”
“What can I say?” Stan grinned as his pile of chips grew. “The cards love me.”
Evalin grimaced as she kept her smile.
'Not really, Stanley,' she thought as if she were speaking to him. 'The cards are just being messed with because of me. And trust me, this isn't the easiest thing in the world.' Then she sighed. 'Not like I have a choice. Comes with the job...'
Across the table, Bud's smile slowly tightened, eyes narrowing. He watched the chips pile higher and higher, then glanced at Evalin with suspicion.
When Stan won again, Bud leaned back and folded his hands.
“Now, Stanley, I ain't one to point fingers,” he said slowly, tapping the table, “but somethin' about this here game that don't sit right with me.”
“What?” Stan scoffed. “You think I'm cheatin'? That hurts, Gleeful.”
Evalin felt the tension shift.
'Wow, didn't expect someone to catch on. That guy might know the existence of magic,' she thought before taking a deep breath. 'Alright. Time to pull the big guns before shit hits the fan.'
She subtly adjusted her posture, shoulders relaxing, gaze softening.
“Now, Bud,” she purred in a gentle, hypnotic tone, “you've had a long night. You don't want to start accusing people without proof, do you?”
Bud blinked, his eyes flashing with the same shimmer hers did.
“I...don't?”
She smiled, resting her chin in her hand.
“You're tired. Frustrated. The cards didn't fall your way tonight. Happens to everyone. Why don't you let this go and enjoy another drink? No harm, no foul.”
Bud sagged slightly, his shoulders loosening.
“I reckon...I am a little tired.”
“No harm,” she murmured.
“No foul,” he repeated weakly.
Evalin's smile sharpened only a little.
'Plebeian.'
She turned her head and stifled a wet cough.
Stan noticed when her voice had changed—and that cough that sounded wrong, but instead of calling attention to it, he slapped the table.
“Well, gentlemen, how's about I get us another round of beers? On me,” he said before turning to Evalin, smiling but eyes sharp. “You're comin' too, Lady Luck.”
“Me?” she said, blinking slowly.
“Yeah, you,” he answered with a wink, but something lingered under his tone. “Can't leave my lucky charm behind.”
She nodded and followed him toward the bar.
Once they were out of earshot, his grin vanished.
“Alright, Spooky, spill it. What the hell was that back there?”
Evalin stiffened, pressing her lips together firmly.
“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just helping you win the game.”
“Sure you don't know,” he muttered, leaning against the counter. “Listen. I know every cheat in the book. That wasn't one of them. So what did you do?”
'Oh sure,' she thought bitterly. 'Now you want details while I feel like I'm about to pop like a fucking balloon.'
She took a deep breath, shoving the queasiness down.
“I just talked to him,” she said plainly.
“Talked?” Stan frowned. “Gleeful was about ready to frisk me for tricks, and you talked him down? Babe, you some kind of Jedi?”
“I don't know what that is,” she deadpanned. “It's just instincts. People don't like being called out unless they're absolutely sure they're right. I made him doubt himself and he backed down. Simple.”
Stan studied her, eyes narrowing.
“Instincts, huh?”
“Yep. Pure instincts.”
The bartender slid beers across the counter that Stan caught with ease.
“Alright. I'll let it slide...for now. But you're full of surprises, Spooky. Just don't go getting me into trouble, got it?”
She rolled her eyes and nodded.
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
A horrible feeling curled in the pit of her stomach and she looked around, finding a bathroom in the distance.
“Go ahead and get back to the time. I need to take care of something.”
Before Stan could answer, Evalin rushed off.
He blinked before shaking his head with a chuckle.
“Hopefully she doesn't shit herself in there,” he mumbled to himself as he made his way back to the table, oblivious to Evalin's strife.
~n~
Evalin stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the stall door shut. Trembling hands locked the door as her vision blurred at the edges.
'Too much big boy magic... Too much strain. Too much—'
Her knees buckled.
She barely caught herself on the toilet seat before—
SPLASH.
Blood.
A thick, crimson flood spilled from her mouth.
She stared down at the water, her body feeling hollow.
'For fuck's sake,' she thought as she rested her head against the cold wall, breathing shakily. 'I didn't think these games would take so damn long. Fucking Fate Magic and Mental Manipulation Magic? That's not child's play. That's big shit.'
She groaned, sitting on the bathroom floor.
'Here I am, killing myself just so Stanley could win a few bucks.'
She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself as her thoughts changed. She stood on one end of her mental bridge, speaking into the void.
(I mean, I've sacrificed more for you, but there was so much more at stake.)
No response, but she wasn't surprised anymore.
Instead, she wiped her mouth, trying to get rid of the metallic tang of blood still clinging stubbornly to her tongue.
She looked upward, beyond the ceiling, beyond the suffocating sky, as if she could see the stars from where she was.
(I'm going to keep sending out thoughts in case you can hear me. Just...wait for me. I'll find you and bring you back to me. No matter what it takes...)
She took another deep breath and pushed herself to her feet, flushing the toilet.
Then she exited the stall and braced trembling hands on the sink.
Her reflection wavered as the dim light cast deep shadows beneath her eyes.
'Breathe,' she thought as she splashed cold water on her face. 'This is just like any other job I've done before.'
She straightened slowly and moved the strands of hair clinging to her pale skin.
(I have to see it through...just like you taught me to,) she said mentally, eye hardening. (No matter what.)
The sky above the dome lightened slowly, like a storm deciding it was tired.
The barrier flickered, not with strain, but with exhaustion.
Stara sagged in Abel's arms. Her wings—only two, smaller now, light again—trembled before folding weakly against her back.
The last of the locust swarm dissolved into ash just like her extra arms and vanished on a wind that no longer carried plague. Her tail thinned once again, and wrapped around his waist to anchor herself to him.
Abel held her close, one arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her hand.
“I've got you,” he murmured against her hair.
She clung to him. Not as Wrath or Abaddon, just as Stara.
Adam watched in stunned silence. His breathing was ragged as golden blood streaked his jaw and one wing hung half-shredded at his back.
His son—his pathetic, soft, weenie of a son—calmed the thing that had almost devoured his soul.
Adam looked down at his sword, its blade still slick with black blood.
“She's weak now,” he mumbled to himself as his gaze drifted back to Stara. “Haven has seen her for the monster she really is.”
His smiled turned dangerous again.
“I could end this. One clean swing... and that Nephalem would be dead,” he said, almost reverently, “and I can finally go home.”
He raised the sword, aligning the tip with Stara's spine.
Abel saw the movement and shifted instantly, turning his body to shield her fully.
“Don't.”
“Move, kid.”
“No,” Abel said firmly.
Adam's voice rose.
“I said step down, brat!”
“And I said no,” Abel answered as he gripped Stara tighter. “You need to learn to have compassion. She's not a threat. She's scared and tired.”
His eyes dropped to Stara, soft. Then hardened when he looked back up to Adam.
“Choose mercy. Just once.”
Adam growled and went to spread his wings. Pain surged and he winced, but he quickly masked it with a harsh laugh.
“Mercy? Ha! Mercy's for pussies.”
Before anyone could react, a voice shouted out.
“Then be a pussy for once!”
Silence snapped across the dome.
Every head turned.
Charlie stood there, fists clenched at her sides, eyes blazing.
“Just once!” she continued, voice shaking but loud. “Stop trying to prove you're the biggest, toughest, most violent guy in the room! Mercy isn't weakness! It's strength!”
“All the offense, princess,” Adam scoffed, “but you don't know shit about strength.”
“I know it better than you!” she shot back. “Strength is doing the right thing even when it costs you something! If you stopped being such a misogynistic asshole all the time and actually faced your own shit, maybe—just maybe—you could heal your soul!”
“Woo! You tell 'im, babe!” Vaggie whooped, pumping a fist.
“Oh, shut up!” Adam snapped. “Don't you fucking idiots see?! I'm trying to go home! My rightful place in Heaven! Hell sucks! I hate it there! I want out!”
His gaze snapped back to Stara.
“Even if it means killing her to do it.”
Abel felt her tense and his wings curled around her protectively.
“How the hell does killing someone earn you redemption?” Charlie shouted, flailing her arms. “What kind of ass backwards logic is that?!”
“She's a fucking Nephalem!” Adam shouted, gesturing wildly. “A monster! Killing one of those is my ticket back!”
The word hung there.
Stara flinched, her fingers tightening in Abel's shirt as she lowered her head. Abel pulled her closer, trying to keep her safe.
“She's not your ticket to anything,” Sera said suddenly as she drifted closer, her expression unreadable.
Her eyes lingered on Stara, seeing on how small she seemed now. The little imp was exhausted, shaking, and more importantly, not fighting.
Fear flickered across Sera's face along with uncertainty.
She took a deep breath as she turned to the Fallen First Man.
“Adam. We don't know if that would work. Redemption remains... poorly understood.”
“Besides,” Vaggie added, “if you kill her and nothing happens, you would have killed an innocent soul.”
“Innocent?” Adam scoffed. “There's no such thing as an innocent demon.”
“Yes there is,” Charlie retorted. “Sir Pentious proved that when he became redeemed.”
“Sir Pentious' case is still an anomaly,” Sera said quickly.
But Charlie kept pushing.
“He risked himself for his friends because it was the right thing to do. That's what matters. Stara does that all the time! She helps people because it's right—even when she gets hurt.”
Her voice softened as she looked at Adam.
“How could you harm someone who does so much good?”
“Good?!” Adam interrupted. “How can you say something so stupid?!”
He jabbed a finger at Stara, voice raising.
“She literally became a freaky plague monster!”
Stara pushed herself into Abel's side, looking down in shame.
“That's your fault, dumbass!” Vaggie shouted, poking Adam's chest hard. “You pushed her and pushed her until she had no choice but to defend herself!”
Her wings flared out.
“All she does is help others while you lounge around and sulk!”
“That's right!” Charlie added. “She believes in everyone and wants them to succeed! To get better!”
Adam stopped his body from taking a step back as his voice shook slightly.
“Alright, fuck it. Let's say she is good. Then why isn't she redeemed, hm? Good demons get into Heaven right?”
Silence blanketed over them.
“Because she's Hellspawn,” Adam finally said.
Adam blinked.
“She doesn't have a human to redeem,” Abel continued. “But she chooses to be good. Every day. Even when she has every reason not to.”
He took her hand and placed it on his chest.
“That's one of the biggest reasons I like her.”
Stara's face flashed a deep shade of blue. She wasn't expecting him to say it so openly.
“Abel...” she whispered. She stared at him before her face softened. “I really like you too.”
Then she added with a weak chuckle, “If that wasn't obvious already.”
“Oh, hell no!” Adam suddenly shouted. “Absolutely not! I might not like my kid but no son of mine is dating a demon.”
“She's more than a demon or a Nephalem, Dad,” Abel said firmly, expression hardening. “She's Stara.”
Stara's breath hitched as something inside her chest swelled so hard it hurt.
“And I will protect her no matter what anyone says,” Abel continued, his wings tightening their grip.
“And if you don't like it?”
His eye narrowed at his father.
“You can fuck off, Dad.”
Silence filled the heavenly air.
Adam stared at Abel for a long time.
He had never seen his son like this before—not shrinking, apologizing, or backing down.
Instead, he was standing up for someone else.
Something inside Adam faltered.
His shoulders sagged and he let out a heavy exhale before driving his sword into the marble, the sound echoing through the dome.
He dropped down beside it like a man too tired to keep fighting.
“Damn it. This fucking sucks,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. I won't kill you, you whiny bitch.”
Everyone stared at him, stunned.
He waved a hand dismissively, though it lacked its usual bite.
“Only because you've gotta have some badassery in you if you made Abel grow a pair of balls and actually stand up to me for once.”
The words were crude—but they weren't venomous.
A collective breath released from the others. The tension hadn't vanished, but it shifted into something lighter.
Suddenly, a weak groan cut through the quiet.
Everyone froze before snapping their attention to the source of the sound.
Lute lay crumpled in a pool of her own blood, barely conscious.
Adam's stomach dropped as realization dawned on him.
“Woah—hey—hey!” he shouted as he scrambled to her side. He lifted her head gently, hands suddenly careful. “C'mon, Lute. You're a badass bitch. You don't get to die on me.”
She gave him a faint, pained smile.
“You died on me first, sir,” she whispered.
He stiffened.
“Yeah,” he mumbled quietly as his expression hardened. “Look at me now. I'm a fucking demon.”
The words didn't carry bravado, but rather something raw.
He pulled her closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear.
“I'm not letting that happen to you, Lute.”
He stood with her in his arms, adjusting her carefully, and carried her to Sera.
“Hey, Sera. You're powerful,” he said before gesturing to Lute awkwardly. “Can you... you know?”
Sera stared at him in genuine surprise.
The Adam she knew barked orders—demanding things—but this one was asking.
“Oh, uh... yes,” she stuttered as light flowed from her hands, sealing Lute's worst wounds.
Lute inhaled a steady breath. She wasn't completely healed, but it was a start.
“There's my girl,” Adam murmured with pride, smiling warmly. “Breathing like a champ. Let's get you to the hospital before you kick the bucket.”
He spread his wings—and winced. His damaged wing remained limp against his back.
“Shit,” he growled.
Sera took a step closer to him.
“Adam, you're far too injured. And you're—“
“A demon?” he finished. “Yeah. I know.”
He adjusted Lute in his arms, not letting her go.
“But she needs to get to the hospital and I'm going to take her.”
Adam stood rigid, jaw tight with frustration as his damaged wing refused to cooperate. He tried again but pain flared.
Charlie stepped forward instinctively.
“Adam, you're in no condition—“
“I said I'm taking her,” he snapped, his tone still edged but lacked heat.
And then, Stara moved. Abel felt her shift and tightened his hold reflexively, wings flaring slightly around her. She touched his arm gently.
“It's okay,” she whispered against him.
“You don't owe him anything,” he murmured back firmly, but still loosened his grip.
“I know.”
Every eye followed her. Charlie held her breath. Vaggie's arms were crossed so tight it looked painful. Sera watched cautiously.
Stara stopped a few feet in front of Adam, who noticed her immediately, expression hardening.
“What?”
“You can't fly like that,” she answered softly.
“Watch me,” he snarled before trying again, but his wing twitched uselessly.
Silence stretched.
Without a word, Stara lifted her hand to her mouth and bit down. Her fangs pierced her flesh, making her wince.
Abel inhaled sharply.
“Stara—“
“It's alright,” she cut him off gently before offering her bleeding hand to Adam.
“What the hell is this?” he sneered with a recoil. “I'm not drinking your blood, you freak.”
She shook her head.
“The Seraphim can't heal you because you're a demon,” she explained. “But I can.”
“I'm not doing that,” he groaned, grimacing. “That's fucking gross.”
“It's not for you,” she replied calmly, gesturing to Lute. “It's to save her.”
Adam hesitated, jaw tight.
“You said you're not letting her die,” Stara continued with a warm smile. “I want to help you with that promise.”
Silence swallowed them.
“This is insane,” Vaggie murmured under her breath, but Charlie quickly shushed her.
“Clearly she sees something we don't Vag.”
Adam looked down at Lute, watching her breath steadily but weak.
“Don't, sir,” she strained, voice shaky. “She's a demon.”
He stared at her for a moment.
His grip tightened before he smiled at her weakly, not noticing the halo glow brighter on Lute's wrist.
“Since when have I ever listened to you?” he teased lightly before looking up at Stara, face hardened. “This doesn't mean anything.”
Stara stepped closer, offering her hand.
“It doesn't have to.”
For a second, pride battle necessity.
With a deep breath, he shifted Lute carefully in one arm before grabbing Stara's wrist. He hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and letting a few drops fall against his lips, coating his tongue in the sweet taste.
The reaction was immediate.
A warmth spread through him—different from Heaven's light—as his torn flesh began to knit. The blackened cracks along his skin faded. His damaged wing trembled, then slowly straightened.
A collective gasp rippled through the group.
Adam flexed his wing once and again, feeling the strength return.
“Huh,” he mumbled, glancing at Stara. “Thanks for not being totally useless.”
There was still something defensive in his posture, something unwilling to soften too much.
“You're welcome, Adam,” Stara chuckled, letting him keep his pride. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in her voice. Just sincerity.
And that was what made Sera stare, because the demon who had nearly devoured Adam was helping him, smiling.
Adam shifted Lute more securely in his arms.
“Alright. Enough of this emotional shit,” Adam said, spreading his wings. His gaze shifted down to Lute again with a smirk. “Let's go get you patched up so you can go back to being a badass.”
And he launched into the sky.
Lute's fingers curled weakly into his shirt as she looked up at him.
For the first time, there was no arrogance in his face. Only fear and determination.
“Adam...”
“Shut your yap,” he muttered, but there was no heat. “I've got you.”
As they flew through the air, Adam felt a shift as light sparked along the edges of his wings.
He faltered midair.
“What the—“
The black bled away from his feathers. Gold returned, shining bright under Heaven's light. His horns dissolved like smoke. The halo slipped from Lute's wrist and rose, settling above his head. Adam blinked, his eyes shifting from red to white.
“Are you shittin' me?”
Below, the others could only stare in shock.
He looked at himself before spinning midair and pointing down at them with a wide smile, his sharp teeth gone.
“Told you fuckers I could do it!”
The sudden shout made Lute wince. Adam flinched apologetically.
“Right. Yeah. We'll celebrate later.”
And this time—he flew toward the hospital, as an angel.
Silence followed him, not the tense kind, but rather the stunned kind.
“Did Adam just—?” Charlie asked in genuine confusion.
“No way. Absolutely not,” Vaggie snapped, gesturing upward wildly. “How the hell does he of all people get redeemed?!”
She crossed her arms tightly.
“Something in the system is busted if it lets his ass back in.”
Stara stood motionless, her gaze lingering on the horizon with an unreadable expression.
Heaven had responded, not to violence or pride, but to choice.
“He was accepted,” she said quietly. “Whatever mechanism governs redemption... it recognized something.”
“Recognized what?” Vaggie scoffed. “Him finally not being a dick for five minutes?”
Abel didn't react. His wings wrapped securely around Stara again, shielding her from everything—Heaven, judgment, even the conversation.
She stood quiet in his arms, watching the sky.
Her earlier tremors had stopped and her breathing was steady.
Then she smiled, soft and proud.
Sera saw it.
“You're... pleased,” she observed carefully.
Stara looked at her.
“He chose differently,” she answered, looking up at her, “even when it was easier not to.”
Vaggie made a frustrated noise.
“Damn it, Star. He tried to murder you ten minutes ago!”
“But he didn't.”
“And you're still happy for him getting into Heaven?” Sera asked.
“Of course,” she relied, simple yet sincere.
Sera studied her, seeing Stara's relieved expression.
“You would celebrate the redemption of someone who sought your death?”
Stara shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.
“If he can change, then maybe anyone can.”
That sentence settled into the marble like a weight.
Sera felt something uncomfortable twist inside her.
For centuries, she categorized beings.
Angels. Demons. Winners. Sinners. All in clear lines.
But this...
A Nephalem who chose good and a Fallen who chose mercy.
Nothing was clean anymore.
Sera stepped forward.
Abel moved instantly, his wings flaring around Stara as he positioned himself fully between them.
“Calm yourself, Abel,” Sera said in a soothing voice. “I'm not here to harm her. I just want to understand.”
Abel didn't lower his guard.
“Forgive me if I don't take that on faith, your Grace.”
Stara's hand touched his back.
“Abel... It's time.”
He hesitated, jaw tight.
His eyes searched hers for doubt, fear, anything, but found none. Only resolve.
Slowly, his wings loosened, but he didn't step away entirely.
“Alright. I'm right here.”
“Thank you.”
Sera descended fully to the marble floor and stood face to face with the girl Heaven had feared.
Up close, Stara looked nothing like a cosmic plague. Her hair was mussed, her eyes rimmed red from crying.
“I am the Seraphim named Sera,” Sera greeted, inclining her head slightly.
Stara took a deep breath and stepped closer before letting her wings spread.
“I am Stara. And I am a Nephalem.”
She hesitated, then she tilted her head with a gentle smile.
“Ouch! You son of a bitch!” Evalin shouted, glaring at the sliver of wood embedded in her finger. Her eye twitched in irritation as she inspected the damage.
“For fuck's sake,” she mumbled to the empty bedroom. “I'm not made to fix shit like this...”
She tilted her head back with an exasperated sigh, then looked to the broken harp resting on the desk. Its delicate frame was cracked and splintered, strings hanging loose like snapped nerves.
“Not like I have much of a choice. There's no way in hell I'll find another Nix, and that other one won't be back because Stanley knocked his fucking lights out.”
With a practiced flick, her knife slid free from the hidden holster on her thigh.
SLICE.
She gritted her teeth as the steel cut cleanly through her skin.
Warm blood welled up instantly, thick and slow as it dripped down her finger. She watched it for a moment with detached focus before letting out a tired sigh. Then she dipped her finger into a jar of fast-healing salve, coating the wound in the thick herbal mixture. Within seconds, the torn flesh began knitting itself back together, skin sealing over as if the cut had never been there.
She flexed her fingers, shaking off the lingering phantom pain, then calmly picked up the severed sliver of flesh and dropped it into a different jar—one already holding a small pile of discarded skin and splinters.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” she grumbled.
Before she could return to the harp, something caught her attention—a small rainbow shimmered across the floor.
Evalin paused as her gaze followed the soft refraction upward until it landed on the prism sitting high in the window.
The irritation in her chest loosened, warmth slowly replacing it as a faint smile tugged at her lips, before she caught herself and masked it with a scowl.
“Damn you, Stanford,” she mumbled with a sharp exhale. “Focus, idiot. Fix the harp first.”
Her eyes drifted to the rainbow one last time.
“Deal with that later...”
She turned back to the instrument, jaw set with determination, and picked it up again.
KNOCK KNOCK.
Evalin nearly jumped out of her skin.
“O-one second!”
She moved in a blur, twisting jar lids shut and stuffing them in her satchel before slinging it over her shoulder. A quick tap to her collarbone made the bag vanish in a shimmer of magic. She threw a cloth over the harp, slid her knife back into its hidden holster, and took a steadying breath before turning to the door with a practiced smile.
The door opened on its own with a soft click and in the doorway—was Stan.
“Wow, Spooky. You got some fancy magic door now too?” he asked, impressed.
“Stanley?” Evalin blinked, stunned. “What are you doing here? You never bother me.”
A shit-eating grin spread across his face.
“I got a proposition for ya,” he said with a shit-eating grin before stepping into her room. “Looks like you've been busy.”
Evalin crossed her arms.
“Did you come here to critique my interior design choices?”
“What? Uh, no,” he answered before clearing his throat and waving his hand dismissively. “You're morally ambiguous, right?”
A long silence stretched between them before Evalin narrowed her eyes at him.
“If I didn't already think you were a criminal,” she said flatly, “I'd have to say no.”
“Perfect!” he exclaimed, grin widening. “I want you and your fancy witchcraft for a scheme. You in?”
Evalin furrowed her brow, clearly not on board.
“Listen,” he continued, rocking back on his heels. “Me and the boys are playin' poker at the Rusty Nail tonight. Figured you could tag along and, y'know, push things in my favor. You can do that, right?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Stanley, I don't know how to play poker. I'm not a gambler.”
“That's the best part! You don't have to!” he said, wagging a finger. “Just hang around me, be sweet-ass eye candy, and I'll signal you to mess with the cards or somethin'. You'll be my Lady Luck.”
“Eye candy?” she question, wrinkling her nose. “That sounds disgusting.”
“We really need to get you out more,” he sighed before waving his hand again. “It means you're nice to look at. A distraction.”
“A...distraction,” she repeated with visible disgust.
“C'mon, Evi,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “It'll be fun. Think of it like one of your little games you play with the kids all the time.”
That made her pause and go quiet as her eyes sharpened with interest. Her gaze drifted toward the cloth-covered harp.
'Maybe I could use this to my own benefit...'
She tapped a finger against her lips, letting the silence stretch long enough to make Stan shift awkwardly.
Finally, she smirked.
“Alright. I'll be your Lady Luck—but I want something in return.”
Stan blinked, surprised that she agreed.
“Oh, uh... What do ya want? Because I'm not giving you money.”
Evalin pulled back the cloth, revealing the shattered harp.
“Yeesh,” he grimaced. “Isn't that the instrument from that freaky river thing?”
“Yes. It's the Nix's harp,” she said before sighing. “I'm not good at fixing things like this...but I want it whole again. If you can promise to help me fix it, I'll play along with your little job.”
Suddenly, her smile turned cocky, adding, “Think you can handle that, big guy?”
Stan studied her, then smirked and held out his hand.
“Spooky, you got yourself a deal.”
Instead of shaking, she held out her pinky.
“Promise me.”
Stan blinked at her finger.
“What the hell is this?”
“What's wrong, Stanley?” she teased with an impish smile. “You afraid of a little pinky promise?”
He scoffed, offended she would call him out like this. His hand lifted halfway before hesitating. But ultimately, he reached out and hooked his pinky around hers with a grunt.
“Fine, whatever. I promise to help you fix the freaky fish monster harp.”
Evalin's eyes sparkled with magic as her grin widened.
“I promise Stanley Pines I'll be his Lady Luck tonight.”
A shimmering red ribbon appeared, wrapping around their intertwined pinkies. Stan flinched as warmth seeped into his skin. The ribbon pulsed once and vanished, leaving a heavy, invisible weight behind.
“Woah!” he shouted as he yanked his hand back. “Did I just sell my soul?!”
“No,” Evalin snorted. “You just made a promise with me.”
“And that means...?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Don't think too much about it,” she said with a casual shrug. “Just know it's a good thing.”
Then she leaned in with a sharp smile, voice lowering.
“But I really wouldn't recommend breaking a promise with me.”
A chill crawled up Stan's spine, but instead of dread, something hotter curled in his chest.
Before he could respond, her whole demeanor flipped into cheerful innocence.
“So! We should get ready to go, yeah?” she chirped as she glided closer, tone dipping into a playful saccharine. “Looks like I'm all yours for the night, Stanley. And I plan on being the best damn Lady Luck you've ever seen.”
Stan's heart kicked as a massive grin spread across his face.
He leaned in closer, matching her tone.
“Oh, baby. Let's fucking do this.”
~n~
They reached the foyer where a voice cut before Stan could grab his jacket.
“Where are you two heading at this time of night?”
Ford stood in the hallway entrance, arms crossed over his chest. His posture looked casual at first glance, but the tension in his shoulders gave him away. His gaze moved from Stan to Evalin.
“A little adventure,” Evalin answered with a light shrug.
“Plan on taking Spooky here to the bar for Poker Night,” Stan announced proudly, slipping on his jacket. “She's gonna be my Lady Luck.”
Ford's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Evalin doesn't like... people,” he pointed out dryly.
“He's got me there,” Evalin chuckled, nodding. “I can't say I'm the biggest fan of people.”
“See?” Stan said, throwing his hands up. “Perfect chance to fix that! Get her outta her hidey-hole and back into society. Take her to the bar, let her live a little!”
'More like introduce me to society in the first place...' she thought dryly.
Ford didn't respond immediately. He took a step closer, studying her face like he was trying to read something beneath the surface.
“Did Stanley trick you into this?” he asked quietly.
She stared at him, noticing the sigil wasn't on, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.
“I wouldn't be going if I didn't want to.”
“See?” Stan laughed as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “All good, Sixer!”
She tensed but didn't say anything.
Ford's jaw tightened slightly at the contact. His eyes flicked briefly to Stan's arm before returning to Evalin.
Silence stretched just a moment too long as Evalin felt the weight of his stare.
'What kind of look is that?!'
Her lips thinned as she reached out mentally, speaking to a silent voice.
(What would you do in a situation like this?)
No response, but no surprise either.
She sighed before coming up with an idea.
Her head tilted slightly and she softened her expression, offering him a gentle smile.
“It's alright, Ford,” she teased lightly. “I'll be back before you know it, so don't miss me too much, okay?”
The words clearly caught him off guard as he stood, frozen.
'Did... did I do it right?' she wondered, the corner of her mouth twitching.
A faint blush crept up his neck, coloring the tips of his ears.
He turned quickly, coughing into his hand to hide it.
“A-alright,” he muttered softer than intended. “Just... be safe.”
Then he paused as if he wanted to say something more—but instead, he took quick steps down the hallway, disappearing from view.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than before.
Evalin frowned slightly, staring at the empty space where he had stood.
'That wasn't what I was expecting at all,' she thought, tilting her head. 'Ford acts so different around other people than he does when we're alone... Why is that?'
“Huh... That was weird,” Stan snorted, pulling her back to the present. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Don't worry about ol' Sixer. Guy's just a worry wart.”
Then he started to guide her to the door.
“C'mon, Lady Luck. We got a fortune to win.”
Evalin nodded and followed him outside.
As they stepped off the porch, she glanced back once more toward the hallway window, half-expecting to see Ford standing there.
Nothing.
The lights remained still and quiet.
'Why did he do that?' she thought, lips twitching slightly.
Then she shook her head and walked toward Stan's car, pushing the thought aside as the night air settled around her, though it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest.
~n~
Ford hadn't gone far. He stopped halfway down the hallway, his hand resting lightly against the wall as the front door creaked open and shut. The sound of Stan's car started drifting faintly through the house, followed by the low rumble of the engine pulling away down the dirt road.
He stepped toward the window at the end of the hall and looked out, watching the taillights disappear into the trees. His jaw tightened slightly as he replayed the scene in his mind—Stan's arms around her shoulders, her easy agreement to go, the soft smile she had given him before leaving.
Her words echoed in his mind.
“Don't miss me too much, okay?”
Ford exhaled slowly, adjusting his glasses out of habit even though they had already slipped back into place.
“...Reckless,” he muttered under his breath, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was talking about anymore.
His gaze lingered on the empty road a moment longer before he turned away, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
The feeling sitting in his chest wasn't logical, and that bothered him more than anything else. There was no statistical reason for concern—Stan knew the bar, knew the people, and Evalin was more than capable of handling herself...probably.
And yet—
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
He didn't like it.
Didn't like the idea of her in a crowded, unpredictable place without him.
Didn't like the way Stan treated it like a joke.
Didn't like the way she had smiled at him like that—soft and reassuring, like she had been the one trying to calm him down.
Ford let out a quiet breath and shook his head.
“She'll be fine,” he told himself firmly, but the words didn't settle anything.
After a long moment, he turned and walked back toward his study, the weight of unease following him down the hall like a shadow he couldn't quite shake.
The dome shimmered violently over the ruins of Adam's old mansion, sealing the battlefield in fractured light. What had once stood as the First Man's monument to pride now lay splintered beneath wrath made flesh.
At its center, Stara hovered—wings spread wide, blackened and trembling, crown fused to bone and burning like a dying star. Pain radiated through her, raw and unfiltered, bleeding into the air as a swarm of shadowed locusts churned above.
She wasn't mindless. She was hurting. And everyone was feeling it.
Adam stood opposite her, sword raised, defiant and unrepentant. The Fallen First Man had returned to claim what he believed was his.
Abel remained between worlds—heart shattering as he watched the woman he cared for unravel beneath a fury she could no longer contain.
Lute lay crumpled and unmoving, her life bleeding into marble. Charlie stared in horror, desperate to help but unsure how to reach something so vast. Vaggie stayed close, wings wide, shielding her girlfriend.
And above them all, Sera felt control slipping through her fingers. She had contained the storm, but it hadn't stopped it completely.
Adam suddenly launched forward with a roar, sword cleaving through the air in a vertical arc meant to split Stara from crown to spine.
The blade connected, and for a heartbeat, the light swallowed her.
“Ah ha!” Adam laughed. “Too slow, bitch!”
But when the light cleared, it reveal that the sword had buried itself halfway into her shoulder.
She hadn't moved.
Her head slowly turned to look at him. Eyes glowing red—empty of recognition. A wicked smile curled the corners of her mouth.
“There you are, O Fallen One.”
Adam's grin faltered.
She snatched up his wrist and the sound of bones cracking echoed inside the dome.
He snarled and swung with his free hand, punching her across the face with enough force to shake the air.
Her head snapped to the side. Then snapped back, unbothered. Black blood dribbled from her lips.
Suddenly, she spit in his face, dark liquid spotting his skin.
“Fucking gross!” Adam shouted, desperately wiping his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Stara cackled with a broken sound that wasn't hers.
The locust swarm surged.
Adam was yanked skyward as black wings wrapped around him like a closing cage.
“Let go, you Heaven's reject!” he barked, slashing wildly.
His blade cut through flesh severing a limb that dissolved into ash mid-fall before regrowing instantly.
“Time for you to feel my pain!”
Stara slammed him into the containment barrier and it answered with a shriek.
Sera grunted as cracks multiplied across its surface. Her jaw tightened as she pushed more magic to repair and maintain the protection. She couldn't let this creature of plague out into Heaven.
Adam bounced off the wall, coughing, golden blood streaking his teeth.
But then he laughed.
“You think I'm scared of you?! You're still just a broken little—“
The scorpion tail struck, spearing speared through his wing and pinning him in midair.
“Ow! Fuck! That fucking hurts!” Adam roared.
Stara yanked him downward and drove him into the marble balcony.
The stone shattered. Columns collapsed. Heaven shook.
Abel flinched but didn't move toward her, because he couldn't, not like this. Not when she was looking at everything with such rage and hate.
All he could do was watch her tear the sky apart, his heart shattered as he knew she had never once looked for him.
Adam staggered to his feet, wing half-torn, golden blood dripped down pristine marble.
He could feel it.
This was a fight he wasn't going to win.
He felt it in every shattered bone and torn feather all the way into his eyes which were shrouded with desperation he refused to show.
He had pushed her so far, to show heaven the kind of monster she was, so she could be struck down. Yet—he never expected her to be like this.
His hands shook against his sword but his pride burned hotter than fear. He raised it again, blood slicking his fingers.
“For Heaven!”
Stara descended slowly toward him as locusts spiraled in tightening circles. The sun dimmed further, darkness consuming them.
Adam roared and lunged again, blade carving a desperate arc toward her throat.
She caught it mid-swing, not with her hands, but with her teeth. Metal shrieked between serrated edges as it lodged against her jaw, sparks flying between them.
Adam's eyes widened as she twisted her head and flung him across the shattered marble like discarded debris. He hit a broken column and coughed blood.
“Stay down!” Charlie shouted.
“No!” Adam snarled, staggering upright. “This kill is mine!”
Stara surged toward him, smile too wide, too broken.
“Stara!” Charlie called, desperation cracking her voice. “Please! You're in there somewhere!”
She dashed over to Adam and thrust both hands forward. A radiant gold and red shield flared into existence, spreading wide just as the scorpion tail lashed forward again.
The stinger struck the barrier, causing the shield to fracture instantly, spiderweb cracks racing across its surface.
Stara paused in genuine surprise before roaring so loud the air shook.
“Get out of my way! You stir what you cannot mend, barrator!”
The word rang out.
Charlie flinched before slowly lifting her gaze to meet Stara's.
“I— Stara! I apologized, remember?”
Stara's smile twisted wide, eyes blazing.
“Your apologies mean nothing in the face of wrath, princess.”
Holy fire rose, prepared to consume everything.
“Charlie!”
Vaggie launched into the air beside Charlie, snatching up Lute's fallen sword.
With a quick swipe, she sliced Stara's hand clean off. Black blood poured as the limb turned to ash, but regrew instantly.
Stara snarled at Vaggie.
“Back off!” Vaggie shouted, planting herself in front of Adam despite the venom in her eyes. “We're not going to let you kill anyone! Including him!”
“You cunts are defending me?” Adam barked with a humorless laugh.
“Don't make me regret my decision, asshole,” she snapped.
Stara moved again.
The air imploded as she struck the shield again—this time with all four insectile arms.
“How dare you protect that fucker! He deserves to die!”
The barrier shattered in a blast of gold light that knocked Charlie backward across the marble.
Vaggie met her midair.
Steel clashed against claw.
Holy sparks sprayed between them as Vaggie drove the blade toward Stara's throat.
Stara caught the sword in one hand, skin searing, and squeezed, causing the metal to bend.
Vaggie gritted her teeth and kicked Stara hard in the chest, forcing distance.
For half a heartbeat, Stara faltered.
Her head twitched slightly as the red glow flickered.
Abel saw it.
He landed and took a step forward instinctively.
“Stara...” he whispered, voice shaking. “You shouldn't hurt your friends like that.”
The words hung in the air.
Her wings hesitated mid-beat as the locusts wavered.
For a fraction of a second, something inside those molten eyes shifted.
Confusion. Pain. Recognition trying to surface.
“F-friends?”
Her hand rose slowly toward her head.
Then she screamed. The sound wasn't singular. It layered—deep, distorted, overlapping with something ancient and furious. She clutched her skull as if something inside was tearing itself loose.
“No! They aren't friends! They betrayed me! Made my life harder! They fucked me over!”
The locust swarm convulsed violently.
“Stara, please!” Charlie cried, tears filling her eyes. “I don't understand! You would never say things like that!”
Sera lowered herself to Charlie's level, voice even.
“That's not your friend anymore, Princess Morningstar,” she said as her eyes narrowed at Stara. “That's Abaddon.”
“A-Abaddon?” Charlie gasped. “Angel of the Bottomless Pit?”
The scream snapped off.
Stara's head lifted. And when she spoke, it wasn't one voice but many.
“I'm not Abaddon,” the distorted chorus intoned, reverberating through the containment dome, through marble and bone alike. “I'm Wrath itself. And I won't stop until all life has felt my pain... and ceased breathing.”
Silence fell.
Even Adam went still.
Then she struck.
“Starting with the one who thinks he can kill me!”
She hit Adam with enough force to crate the balcony floor beneath him.
Insectile hands pinned his arms. The scorpion tail coiled around his legs and yanked him flat.
He roared and tried to slash upward, but her clawed hand closed around his throat.
“Let—go—“ he choked.
Her face lowered toward his.
The molten horned helm gleamed in the dim light.
“Not until I devoured your soul,” the chorus whispered tenderly.
Her jaw opened too wide, revealing elongated teeth. Shadow stretched into her mouth like a void waiting to swallow. Saliva dripped from her fangs, starving.
Adam's bravado finally broke.
For the first time, fear cracked across his face.
“Stop.”
A voice called out above the drone, not angry or fearful.
Abel stepped before her with no weapon or shield. Just himself.
Stara froze.
The locusts halted midair as the holy flames around her limbs flickered lower.
Her glowing red eyes shifted slowly before locking onto him.
Abel's heart hammered against his ribs, but he didn't retreat this time.
He swallowed his fear and forced a soft smile.
“Hey there, blueberry pie.”
The name cut through the layered chorus like sunlight through storm clouds.
Her grip tightened once around Adam's throat—then stilled.
“You don't want to do this,” Abel murmured, stepping closer.
Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her warped form.
Close enough to see his own trembling reflection in the molten metal of her helm.
“I know you're hurting.”
Her breathing was ragged and uneven as she stared at him.
“You don't have to carry all of it,” he whispered.
He lifted one shaking hand and, for a moment, it hovered inches from her face, before cupping her cheek. The metal was so hot that it burned him, but he didn't pull away.
He rested his forehead gently against the horned crown.
“Breathe with me. Just breathe.”
The flames dimmed.
Her wings folded against her back.
Adam wheezed weakly in her grasp, forgotten.
“In,” Abel whispered. “And out.”
Her fingers trembled.
The red glow flickered.
“In.”
A shaky inhale.
“Out.”
Her claws loosened.
Adam dropped hard onto the marble, coughing and scrambling backward on blood-slick hands.
Abel didn't move.
“Stay with me, Star. You're not a monster. You're not wrath. You're you.”
The molten helm cracked and light seeped though the fractures.
Metal fell from her skull, falling to the marble with quiet clanks.
The chorus of voices fractured into static, then silence.
Her eyes opened, tears streaking her face.
When she spoke again, it was only one voice, small and hoarse.
The ocean surrounding Sootopolis City was unlike anywhere else in Hoenn.
Sunlight pierced the crystal-blue water in shimmering columns that stretched toward the depths below, illuminating drifting schools of Magikarp and the occasional Mantine gliding overhead. A distant Wailord call resonated through the water, low and soothing.
Far beneath it all floated Sven.
His diving suit had seen years of use, though it remained meticulously maintained. A reinforced oxygen tank rested against his back while a utility belt carrying several Pokéballs sat snugly around his waist.
With slow, practiced movements, he adjusted the buoyancy of his vest and allowed himself to drift with the gentle current.
This was his favorite part.
No rushing or battling. Just him and the ocean.
A curious Luvdisc swam close enough to inspect its reflection in his diving mask before darting away. Sven chuckled to himself, the sound reduced to little more than a muffled vibration inside his regulator.
He gave the tiny Pokémon a friendly wave.
Luvdisc always reminded him of how he first met his girlfriend, Brittney.
Years ago, she'd insisted on catching one after hearing the old rumor that it would lead her to true love. She never managed to caught it herself.
Not until he came along.
The kiss she'd given him afterward had made the entire afternoon worthwhile.
He sighed as he watched bubbles drift lazily toward the surface, thinking about how he wanted to propose to her after his trip.
If he could find a Clamperl pearl today, maybe he'd finally have the ring she'd always deserved.
A pair of Horsea caught his attention as he watched them disappear into the reef, while a school of Chinchou shimmered in the ocean deep like floating stars.
Sven had always preferred observing Water-type Pokémon to catching them. Watching them behave naturally was infinitely more rewarding than forcing them into battle. Besides, after years of diving these waters, many of the local Pokémon had grown accustomed to his presence.
He was simply another visitor passing through their world.
The rocky seabed gradually sloped downward as towering cliffs rose around him. Strange coral formations twisted along the stone walls while seaweed danced gently with the current.
Sven checked the gauge on his oxygen tank, making sure it had plenty of air still. There was at least an hour left for him to explore.
Movement caught his eye. He turned to see several sleek, blue shapes emerging from the hazy water ahead.
Sharpedo.
His relaxed smile faded.
Those predators were known for their tempers and he wasn't looking for a fight.
They circled one another with practiced precision, weaving effortlessly through the water as they patrolled the reef. Sven counted at least eight of them.
“Nope,” he muttered to himself as he slowly backed away. “This is your neighborhood.”
Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Sven scanned the surrounding cliffs until he spotted the mouth of a narrow underwater cavern tucked between two massive rock formations—the perfect hiding spot.
He kicked gently toward the opening, careful not to create sudden splashes or vibrations that might attract unwanted attention.
Relief washed over him as the Sharpedo continued their patrol without acknowledging him.
The cave welcomed him with cool darkness. Almost immediately, the temperature dropped several degrees as sunlight vanished after only a few meters, forcing Sven to switch on the powerful lamp mounted to his wrist.
The narrow beam cut through the black water, revealing ancient stone walls that were scarred by centuries of shifting tides. Pale sponges clung to the rock, while long strands of seaweed drifted lazily from the ceiling like forgotten curtains.
The silence felt...different.
Outside, the ocean had been alive with movement and distant calls.
Here—there was nothing.
No schools of fish or curious Wingulls diving from above. Not even a playful Remoraid weaving between the rocks. Only the steady rhythm of his own breathing echoing inside his helmet with each exhale sounding unnaturally loud.
He swept his flashlight deeper into the cavern.
“Huh,” he murmured as his beam disappeared into the darkness. “Bigger than I thought.”
For just a moment, he considered turning around and waiting outside for the Sharpedo to move on. Then he laughed quietly at himself.
“What the hell am I getting nervous for?”
He'd explored dozens of underwater caves before and this one was no different—or so he thought.
His flashlight swept across the cave wall, finding strange grooves that scored the rock in long, parallel lines. They were too smooth to be natural and too evenly spaced to be made by currents.
“I wonder what did that...” Sven asked himself with a frown.
Suddenly, something brushed against the back of his arm.
He jolted so hard that his flashlight beam swung wildly across the cavern walls.
“What the—?”
His pulse hammered in his ears as he whipped around.
Hovering just beyond the reach of his light was a long, elegant Pokémon. Cream-colored scales faded into soft pink along its slender, serpentine body, while delicate fins flowed behind it like ribbons caught in a current. Its gentle eyes watched him curiously.
Sven let out a muffled laugh through his regulator, realizing it was just a Gorebyss.
“You scared the hell out of me, little one.”
The Pokémon drifted closer until its smooth body lightly nudged his shoulder.
Sven cautiously reached out and ran a gloved hand along its scales.
“They say you're one of the prettiest Pokémon of the sea,” he said softly. “Guess they weren't exaggerating, huh?”
Gorebyss circled him in a slow, graceful loop before gliding deeper into the cavern. Every few moments, part of its body brushed gently against his arm or shoulder, lingering just a second longer each time.
“You want me to come with you?” Sven asked with a smile.
The Pokémon didn't answer, only continued swimming farther into the darkness.
As they traveled deeper, a thought crossed his mind.
“Gorebyss...” he murmured, his eyes wandering toward the cave floor. “It evolves from Clamperl.”
If a Gorebyss had made its home here, there was a good chance a Clamperl lived nearby too.
His heart skipped with excitement.
A Clamperl pearl.
It was exactly what he'd been hoping to find.
He imagined slipping a ring onto Brittney's finger and watching her expression melt from confusion to happy tears.
“Maybe today's my lucky day after all.”
Adjusting the beam on his wrist lamp, Sven kicked after Gorebyss.
However, the farther they traveled, the stranger the cave became.
The rocky floor was almost unnaturally clean. There were no patches of seaweed anymore, no clusters of shellfish clinging to the stone, or even tiny schools of fish. Just smooth rock stretching endlessly into the darkness.
“Huh,” he said, frowning. He swept his flashlight across the cavern floor again, finding nothing. “That's... weird.”
Perhaps the currents were stronger inside the cave than he realized. It was the only explanation he could come up with.
Gorebyss brushed against him again, pulling him from his thoughts.
“You really like people, don't you,” he chuckled while gently stroking its side.
The Pokémon remained silent, its body simply gliding alongside his and never allowing more than a few inches to separate them.
Up ahead, dozens of blue and yellow lights appeared.
“Chinchou,” Sven murmured under his breath, his shoulders relaxing as they finally found signs of life.
He kicked toward the glowing Pokémon, grateful to see something other than endless stone.
As the school drifted apart, their bioluminescent antennae illuminated the cavern.
His smile vanished instantly.
A human skull stared back at him from the cave floor.
His flashlight jerked downward.
Ribs, a spine, an entire skeleton still wrapped in the tattered remains of a diving suit being picked clean by a few Corphish.
“No...”
The beam darted wildly around the chamber.
More bones—human and Pokémon alike. Broken dive tanks, rusted knives, cracked diving masks, even shattered Pokéballs half-buried beneath the sand.
The cave floor wasn't just clean. It had simply been picked clean.
His eyes darted toward Gorebyss.
It was still watching him, calmly, patiently, waiting.
His stomach dropped. Every instinct screamed at him to leave—now.
Sven spun toward the entrance, fins kicking desperately against the water.
Suddenly, something wrapped around his chest tightly, then his waist, and finally his legs.
His breath hitched.
Gorebyss's long, serpentine body had coiled around him with terrifying speed, each loop squeezing tighter than the last. The graceful Pokémon he'd been petting only moments ago now held him completely still.
“P-Please...” he begged, his words dissolving into bubbles.
He struggled violently, twisting against the tightening coils, but to no avail.
He reached for a Pokéball clipped to his utility belt, hoping any of his Pokémon could help him.
His fingertips brushed against one.
Suddenly every breath became shallow.
The coils around his chest tightened just enough that he couldn't fully expand his lungs.
He stretched harder, the muscles in his shoulder screaming.
“Just another inch,” he strained. “Please...”
Gorebyss tightened its grip.
Pain shot through his ribs, forcing a gasp from his regulator—a precious breath he couldn't afford to waste.
His head felt light and his hand fell away, leaving the Pokéball out of his reach.
The Chinchou continued floating peacefully among the countless bones as though this had happened many times before.
Sven's struggles gradually slowed.
Every frantic kick became weaker than the last. His arms no longer fought against the crushing coils wrapping around his body. They simply hung there, drifting with the current.
His vision blurred as his thoughts scattered.
Gorebyss seemed to notice.
Its coils loosened as its long mouth began to nudge at him.
Relief surged through Sven's exhausted mind.
'It's letting me go,' he thought as he tried to pull away.
A sharp pinch pricked the exposed strip of skin between the collar of his wetsuit and his regulator.
He froze.
It had barely hurt, but what was more alarming was that warmth began slipping from his body.
At first, he couldn't understand what was happening.
Then his fingers turned numb and his arm felt impossibly heavy.
The light from his flashlight stretched into hazy streaks as his vision dimmed around the edges.
Each breath became more shallow than the last.
His muscles refused to answer him.
His diving suit, once snug against his body, gradually sagged around his arms and legs as his strength ebbed away.
He couldn't even lift a hand anymore.
The only thing still moving was Gorebyss as it fed gently.
Sven's mind drifted somewhere far from the cave.
He saw Brittney smiling at him on the beach as he remembered the day they'd met. The Luvdisc she'd wanted so badly, the kiss she'd surprised him with after, the empty pouch on his utility belt where he'd planned to place the Clamplerl pearl.
“I'm... sorry...” he whispered, but the words never left his lips.
He had promised he'd come home. He had promised he'd ask her to be his wife.
Now, she would never know why he hadn't returned.
He wanted to cry, to tell her one last time that he loved her.
But nothing came.
Even that final comfort had slipped away.
His thoughts faded into silence.
Gorebyss finally withdrew. Without a sound, it uncoiled its long body and drifted away into the darkness with the same effortless grace it had shown when Sven first met it—beautiful, elegant, and cruel.
Sven's motionless body slowly descended through the dark water. His flashlight slipped from his hand, its beam spinning lazily through the depths as it sank beside him.
The first Corphish approached cautiously.
After a long moment, it reached out with one claw. Then another one joined it.
Life continued in the quiet cavern. The currents flowed as they always had.
The predators hunted and the scavengers fed.
Nothing mourned Sven.
Nature simply moved on.
~~~~~
"Although Gorebyss is the very picture of elegance and beauty while swimming, it is also cruel. When it spots prey, this Pokémon inserts its thin mouth into the prey's body and drains the prey of its body fluids." — Alpha Sapphire
~~~~~
(Art done by me.)
~~~~~
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Gravity Falls AU: Dreamer
Ford's Journal Entry
July 4th
Ao3
WattPad
Based on the events of Chapter 43 of Gravity Falls AU: Dreamer
July 4th 2013
I had intended today's excursion to be a simple field observation.
Instead, it became... something considerably more personal.
After the incident in the laboratory several nights ago, I found myself unable to stop thinking about Evalin's reaction to my physical contact. I still don't quite understand the reasoning behind it all but I would like for her to stay with us a bit more permanently.
Perhaps I simply wished to observe her outside of another crisis.
Perhaps I wished to repay her for the enchanted spectacles she so casually bestowed upon me.
Or perhaps I merely wanted an excuse to spend time with her. (← Crossed-out)
I am choosing not to analyze that final possibility.
Liar. (← Crossed-out)
I invited her into the forest under the guise of research.
Technically, this was not deception because there was research involved.
I merely neglected to mention that the primary objective had been to show her a naturally occurring optical phenomenon I discovered years ago—a seasonal alignment of sunlight and suspended mineral prisms hidden among the trees.
I suspected she would appreciate it.
I was correct.
Before we departed, Stanley loudly announced his intention to rob Preston Northwest—no, wait, Gideon Gleeful—of several clown paintings.
Honestly I can't tell the difference between them sometimes because they are both insufferable.
Naturally I questioned this plan.
Evalin then handed Stanley one of her enchanted papers and informed him she was “simply giving him the tools to succeed.”
Stanley accepted this explanation immediately.
I remain deeply concerned by how quickly those two enable one another.
Also I wish he would stop referring to Evalin's breasts in front of her or the kids. Or me.
Our walk through the forest proved... enlightening.
Evalin appeared more relaxed outdoors than I had seen her since her arrival. She spoke fondly of a place called Velmara Hollow, the woodland surrounding her own home.
She referred to it possessively.
“It's mine.”
That simple statement carried more warmth than nearly anything else she has said about Elaris.
When I asked how she intended to return once I located her world...
...she hesitated.
That frightened me.
She eventually admitted she had “ideas.”
Given everything I have observed about this woman, the phrase dangerous ideas is practically synonymous with her name.
Of course I called her out, but I didn't mean to admit—
—I worry about her.
She attempted to dismiss my concern with humor, insisting she always survives.
That answer disturbed me far more than if she had confessed fear.
People who speak of survival so casually usually learned that lesson through suffering.
Without fully thinking through my actions, I stopped walking and asked her something I had not planned to ask.
Would she consider staying here?
With us.
Gravity Falls could become her home.
She looked... genuinely shaken.
Not offended or uncomfortable.
Just... saddened.
She told me she had to return home.
That her work mattered too much.
I understood.
How could I not?
If someone had asked me to abandon my own research, I would have refused as well.
Still...
The answer left an unpleasant ache in my chest. (← Crossed-out)
So I proposed something considerably less rational.
If she returned home...
...then I wished to visit.
She seemed equally surprised by that suggestion.
She did not refuse.
She simply promised to think about it.
For reasons I cannot entirely explain...
...that answer was enough.
The clearing looked entirely ordinary when we arrived.
She was visibly confused which was to be expected.
The sunlight shifted.
The prisms activated.
And suddenly the forest exploded into ribbons of refracted color.
She stopped breathing.
For several seconds she simply stared.
Then she reached toward the rainbows with the same wonder I imagine I must have worn while first observing interdimensional anomalies.
I have spent decades studying impossible things.
Very rarely do I have the privilege of watching someone experience genuine scientific wonder for the first time.
It reminded me why discovery matters.
I quietly activated the enchantment on my glasses.
I confess...
I wanted to see her reaction.
Not merely the expression on her face.
Her light.
The results were... astonishing.
Her soul brightened more intensely than I had yet observed.
The silver-blue aura surrounding her expanded until it mingled with the rainbow light itself, becoming almost impossible to distinguish from the colors dancing throughout the clearing.
She looked...
There truly is no adequate scientific terminology.
Beautiful.
Radiant.
Alive.
I told her the phenomenon before us represented one of science's greatest strengths.
Sometimes, given the proper circumstances...
Science resembles magic.
She whispered that it was beautiful.
I then made a mistake.
Or perhaps not a mistake.
Merely honesty.
I admitted I had arranged the entire outing for her.
The immediate response was observable.
Her aura surged.
Facial temperature increased.
Respiration elevated.
Her soul shifted into that remarkably deep shade of blue I first documented in the laboratory.
She eventually noticed my glasses.
Needless to say...
She was less enthusiastic about my continued observations than I was.
Reasonably so.
I attempted to reassure her.
She accused me of tricking her, which wasn't entirely incorrect.
I should have disclosed that I intended to observe her aura beforehand.
Instead...
I told her the truth.
I told her she was beautiful.
That statement produced perhaps the single strongest magical reaction I have yet witnessed.
No hypothesis at present. Only data.
Absolutely not “only data.” (← Crossed-out)
In that moment...I think I almost kissed her. (← Crossed-out)
What is wrong with me? (← Crossed-out)
The phenomenon ended shortly thereafter as the sunlight shifted beyond the required angle.
I retrieved one of the prisms responsible for the display and handed it to her.
She examined it with complete fascination.
Apparently such objects either do not exist on Elaris or are exceedingly uncommon.
I offered it to her without hesitation, thinking it was just a small gift for her to remember the moment by.
However, the response caught me entirely off guard.
She cried.
Only one tear.
But I saw it.
Evalin—who has faced monsters, severed her own hand without flinching, mocked death itself, and routinely treats catastrophic injuries as inconveniences—cried because someone gave her a piece of glass.
No.
Not because of the prism.
Because someone had given it to her.
She looked genuinely confused by her own reaction.
As though kindness itself had become unfamiliar.
I found that realization...deeply upsetting.
When she finally thanked me...
...she called me “Ford.”
Not “Professor” or “Stanford.”
Simply...
Ford.
It felt very significant.
Without thinking, I answered her in kind.
“Evi.”
It felt...natural.
I do not know when we reached that point.
Nor, admittedly...
...do I wish to examine that question too closely.
The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the yard.
Near the steps, Mabel was on a mission.
“Come on, Waddles! You can do it!” she cheered, lifting her beloved pet pig onto his hind legs. “Think like a T-Rex! Or an ostrich!”
Waddles promptly flopped over.
“Mabel, pigs are quadrupeds,” Dipper groaned from his seat on the porch. “They don't walk on two legs.”
“Not with that attitude!” she shouted, grinning wide as she tried again—and failed just as spectacularly.
A few feet away, Evalin sat beneath a tree, only half-listening as she flipped through an old leather-bound book from Ford's study. Her fingers traced over an illustration of tangled roots, lips pursed in thought.
'According to this, I should be able to find mandrakes somewhere near—' she thought before pausing, jaw tightening. 'Gods-fucking-damn it! Not ready for at least another month?! Ugh, why are ingredients so difficult to find here?! If I was at home—'
The sound of approaching footsteps cut through her focus.
She glanced to see Ford walking toward her, hands clasped behind his back with a pleasant expression—but something unreadable lingered beneath it.
He stopped just short of her, cleared his throat, and spoke with meaning.
“Pardon me, Evalin. I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a bit of research. A simple outing, if you will.”
Evalin blinked in confusion.
“A research outing?” she repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. “This isn't a trick, is it?”
“Now why would I do that?” he asked, smirking playfully.
“Because,” she said flatly as she closed the book with a soft thump. “I think you enjoy torturing me now that you have those glasses.”
“I'm not here to torture you,” Ford chuckled, shaking his head.
She sighed through her nose, skeptical.
“Please,” he said softly, extending his hand to her. “Trust me.”
Something in Evalin's chest tightened.
“Do you trust me?” a voice echoed in her mind.
She stared at Ford, seeing the genuine look on his face.
For a single second, she almost softened before masking it with a sigh and carefully slipping her hand into his.
Ford smiled softly as he gently pulled her to her feet.
“Hope this doesn't get me killed or whatever,” she said, dusting her dress off, before gesturing to him. “Lead the way.”
Ford gave her hand a small squeeze before releasing it.
“Right this way.”
They had barely reached the tree line when a voice called out to them.
“Where are you two little rascals heading off to?”
Both turned to find Mabel grinning at them like a Cheshire cat.
Ford flushed and opened his mouth, but was interrupted.
“I guess we're going on some kind of research outing,” Evalin said, twirling her hand lazily.
“A research outing?!” Mabel beamed, bouncing with excitement that made Ford's stomach drop. “Can I come? Do you think we'll see bears? I hope there are cubs! Ooo, can I bring one home if find any? Please??”
Before Ford could answer, another voice cut in.
“Boo! Nerd stuff!” Stan shouted from the porch, waving them off. “C'mon, pumpkin. You and your brother are coming with me today. I need you two to distract Gleeful while I snag some of those sweet, sweet clown paintings from his living room.”
“Grunkle Stan, isn't that stealing?” Dipper asked carefully.
“Only if you get caught,” Stan snorted, “and we won't as long as you stick to the plan this time, kid. I ain't going back to jail.”
Evalin perked up and reached into her bra, pulling out a small paper.
“Here,” she said, handing it to Stan.
He squinted as he took it.
“That's not money.”
“Take it,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It'll make you more... persuasive.”
Stan examined it, mumbling, “This look like the napkin you gave me at the carnival.”
“Exactly,” she said, something sharp flickering behind her eyes as she grinned. “You know how it works already. Burn it when you're ready and have at it.”
Stan blinked, then his face split into a shit-eating grin.
“Thanks for the booby trap, you beautiful menace,” he exclaimed before turning to the kids with a thumbs-up. “C'mon, kids! Let's go nab us some sweet-ass paintings of clowns.”
“Ugh, I'm starting to hate clowns,” Dipper groaned as he made his way to the car.
Evalin handed Mabel the book she was holding.
“Hey, can you show me how fast you are by running this to my room real quick?”
Mabel gasped as she snatched the book.
“I'm the fast sparkle monster alive!” she shouted as she ran inside.
Evalin shook her head fondly.
“She really is something else.”
Ford sighed as he watched Mabel slam through the screen door and dashing to the car.
“That door has been through so much,” he mumbled dryly.
Stan slid into the driver's seat, and the car peeled out of the driveway in a cloud of dust.
Ford turned his attention back to Evalin.
“I have to ask: Did you just help my brother commit a crime?”
“Not at all,” she snorted. “I just gave him the tools to succeed. How he uses them isn't my problem.”
“You're a horrible influence on him,” he replied flatly.
She smirked, flicking a playful spark between her fingers.
“And yet you keep me around for the pretty light show.”
He rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it.
She stretched and turned towards the trees.
“So, are we doing this outing or not?”
He signed heavily before nodding.
“Yes. Let's go.”
~n~
The woods were alive with rustling leaves and distant birdsong as they walked in comfortable silence.
“You like being outdoors, don't you?” Ford asked as he watched Evalin smile at the treetops.
“I like freedom more than being trapped,” she answered with a shrug. “So yes. Outside is nice.”
“You seem happier than when you first arrived,” he commented, noting her relaxed form.
She considered that.
“I suppose so. I've got something to focus on so I don't feel so damn lost all the time,” she murmured before putting her hands behind her head. “Besides, this isn't the worst place I've been out here in the universe.”
“Oh?” Ford asked, interest piqued. “Where else have you been?”
Evalin froze, realizing her mistake, then she quickly masked it with another shrug.
“Oh, you know... around.”
“That isn't exactly an answer.”
“It's the one you get,” she said before quickly adding, “You know, this place reminds me of Velmara Hollow.”
Ford looked surprised by her sudden change of topic, but wasn't going to waste this opportunity.
“Velmara Hollow?”
“Yeah. My woods around my cabin,” she said softly, gaze drifting to the trees. “That's what I named them after I bought the land. A little dangerous, very unpredictable, but it's mine.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I can't wait to go back home.”
Something about that made Ford uncomfortable.
“When I find your planet...how do you plan on getting back?” he asked cautiously, genuinely curious but wary of her answer.
She paused, thinking hard.
“I have...ideas,” she finally said carefully.
“Dangerous ideas?”
“Damn, you learned enough to know when to call me out, huh?” she teased with a laugh.
“Evalin.”
“Yes?”
He paused before his voice softened slightly.
“I worry about you.”
Her smile faded and she tugged at the brim of her hat.
“Pft, no need to worry about me, Stanford,” she scoffed with pink cheeks. “I've been to hell and back. I know what I'm doing.”
Ford didn't look convinced.
“You couldn't possibly know what's going to happen out there,” he said quietly before asking, “Aren't you afraid of dying?”
Evalin snorted loudly, startling him.
“Nah. For everything I've been through and I haven't died yet? I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.” She flashed a dangerous smile, adding, “But I'd love to see the multiverse try.”
“That doesn't make me feel any better,” Ford muttered as he pressed his lips together firmly.
Evalin waved him off, unbothered with his concern.
“Calm down. I have the pain tolerance of a god.”
“Evalin—“
She raised a hand, stopping him from pressing further.
“Seriously, it's alright. I always survive. That's what matters.”
Ford's jaw tightened and he reached out to grab her arm, not painfully but firmly.
Her breath hitched and they stopped walking. He turned her toward him, gripping both of her arms, expression serious.
'Why... is he looking at me like that?' Evalin thought as she tensed.
Ford let out a slow breath, his grip loosening.
“Have you thought about staying here with us?” he asked without thinking.
Her heart lurched, eyes widening.
“What if you stayed in Gravity Falls with us?” he continued. “We could help you. Give you a real home. One where you don't have to just survive.” Then his voice softened. “A place where you can actually live without fear.”
Her shoulders sagged heavily.
“Stanford... I have to go home,” she said quietly. “My work... it means so much. You understand that, don't you?”
Something in his expression fell before hardening.
“Then I want to visit you.”
She jolted in surprise.
“What—?”
“I want to visit you on Elaris,” he clarified firmly.
“Stanford... I-I don't know if—“ she laughed weakly.
“Please,” he pleaded, voice dropping to a murmur, “just think about it.”
Evalin's lips parted as if she were about to say something, but something in his eyes made her chest ache.
“I'll think about it, okay?” she said quietly, tugging her hat over her eyes.
Ford let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as relief washed over him.
“Thank you.”
He finally released her arms and stepped back, clearing his throat.
“We should keep going. It's going to start soon.”
Evalin blinked and peeked at him from under her hat.
“What's going to start soon?”
“Something special I want you to see,” he said as he started to guide her down the path, smiling wide.
~n~
They arrived in a small clearing surrounded by trees, with flowers swaying in the low breeze.
“There's nothing here,” she stated as she looked around in confusion.
“Yet,” Ford corrected as he glanced down at his watch. Then he perked up and took her by the arms, gently guiding her to stand in a specific spot.
'Why does he always have to touch me?' she thought as she wobbled slight. 'Does anyone around here know about personal space?!'
Ford stepped behind her and pointed toward the clearing.
“Watch.”
For a moment, there was nothing before the sunlight gradually shifted into alignment.
Rainbows gently phased into view across the forest, shimmering along tree trunks.
Colors swirled and shifted like a living, breathing prism.
Evalin gasped, eyes lighting up with wonder.
'Holy shit... Rainbow Manipulation?' she thought as she reached out, trying to touch the rainbows. 'Even I don't know how to manipulate colors yet...'
Her fingers glided through the light as if it were something solid.
“Stanford... this is amazing,” she whispered, not wanting to break the moment.
Ford felt his chest flutter as he reached up to activate the sigil on his glasses. Vision shifted as magic revealed itself to him, but his attention was only on her.
Evalin's light was pulsing, brilliant and radiant like the surface of the sun.
She wasn't just standing in the light.
She was a part of it.
Her aura shimmered in a silvery-blue glow, falling from her like a cascading waterfall.
His hands slid down her arm slowly, but she was so captivated by the colors she didn't feel it.
“This is the beauty of science,” he murmured. “Sometimes it looks like magic.”
Evalin looked up at him, her expression caught between awe and something deeper.
“It's beautiful.”
Ford's smile softened.
“I'm glad you think so, Evalin,” he said gently. “I made this happen for you.”
Her eyes widened.
“For... me?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “For you.”
Her breath caught as her light sputtered erratically. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard he could swear he could hear it.
For a moment, she just stared at him before heat blossomed up her neck and traveled across her cheeks, dusting her skin in pink. Her glow responded by covering the blush with a deep blue color.
Ford felt the thrill shoot up his spine and let out a slow breath.
“Incredible,” he murmured as he stared at the rare shade of blue.
Evalin blinked, confused why he was in such awe while looking at her. Then she noticed the glowing sigil on his glasses and she tensed.
“Are you serious right now?” she snapped, her light vibrating in jagged lines now.
“What?” Ford asked with an innocent smile.
She tried to pull away, but his gripped tightened slightly.
“Evalin, wait, please,” he said before adding softly, “I wasn't trying to trick you.”
“Sure as shit feels like it,” she snapped, glaring at him.
He quickly shook his head as he gently pulled her closer.
“I was just appreciating your light,” he admitted as he shook his head and gently pulled her closer before his voice softened to a whisper. “You're beautiful.”
She froze, gaze locking on his.
“Wh-what?” she managed as her glow calmed into a low fizzle, almost going out completely.
Ford reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, before slowly cupping her cheek. He watched as Evalin's glow flared instantly in a bright light. His smile warmed as he traced the soft glow against her skin with his thumb.
Evalin stared at him as the rest of the world faded into a quiet blur.
'That feeling,' she thought. 'What is this?And why does it feel so...good?'
Her face softened and she finally leaned into his hand.
Ford leaned forward, tilting his head slightly. His eyes dropped to her lips and he gently pulled her closer until their breath started to mingle.
But suddenly, the colors around them started to fade.
Evalin hesitated, pulling back from Ford's grip and looking around in confusion.
“What's happening?” she asked as her glow compressed against her skin.
Ford's fingers curled slightly at the empty air before letting his hand fall to his side again.
“The sun is shifting,” he explained as he walked over to a tree. “It's no longer in peak position for the prisms.”
He plucked a small reflective glass from a branch to bring back to her.
“The...what?” she asked as she studied the prism.
Ford chuckled and placed it into her hands.
“A transparent object—typically triangular—with refracting surfaces at an acute angle. It separates white light into a spectrum of colors,” he explained as he watched her light reflect against the glass in soft pulses. “Do they not have these where you're from?”
She shook her head, studying the prism with awe.
“No—Well, I don't think so.... I've never seen one of these before.”
Ford's expression softened as he smiled warmly.
“You can have it if you want.”
She paused, light flickering again as she slowly turned to him with wide eyes.
“You want me to have this?” she asked carefully.
“Yes,” he answered with a gentle nod. “I would like you to have it to remember this outing with me.”
Evalin's glow burned almost white. Her lips parted slightly to say something—anything—but the burn behind her eyes stopped her.
A single tear fell before she could stop it.
Ford's breath hitched, eyes widening.
No one had ever seen Evalin cry before.
She felt the warm trail of liquid on her cheek and quickly turned away as something twisted deep in her chest.
'What the fuck is happening to me?!' she screamed internally at herself. 'I—I—I keep doing this to myself!'
She held the prism tight against her.
'This man... He's so dangerous to my plan,' she thought before her gaze dropped to the glass in her hands. 'But he's so kind... He isn't afraid of me.'
She glanced back at him.
He was watching her, his eyebrows knitted together in quiet confusion. His hand hovered midair, fingers curled slightly as if he wanted to reach for her.
She stared at him, trying to straighten her thoughts.
'I want to go home.,' she thought, correcting herself. 'I need to get out of here and go home...'
But her gaze still softened.
'But he's making my stay here... nice.'
She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and turned back to face him again.
“Thank you...Ford.”
His chest fluttered at the nickname she never used before. He let out a slow breath as a small, genuine smile curled the corners of his mouth.
Heaven's skies were always beautiful with warm oranges and liquid gold that spilled across the horizon, threading through vast swirls of violet cloud. The air shimmered softly, untouched by ash, unscarred by sin.
It carried no weight, no rot, no suffering.
Then the sky tore open.
The sound came first—a violent rip, as though silk had been dragged across a blade. A jagged seam split the air above the marble balcony.
Stara hit the floor hard with a grunt, pain shooting up her spine. Breath fled her lungs in a broken gasp as she rolled across polished white marble, skin tearing against the pristine surface. Gold-veined stone smeared with dark blood with faint glints of gold that flickered like dying stars.
Her eyes darted, frantic.
Abel should have been here. He always—
The portal hadn't finished fading when Adam flew through.
He entered like he owned the place, wings flaring wide, boots touching down with casual ease.
“Running to Heaven? That's—“
He blinked as Heaven's light fully embraced him. His gaze slowly swept the familiar architecture before recognition hit him. They were at his old mansion.
“What gives?!” he shouted. “You've been sneaking to my place? For what reason?”
Stara tried to push herself up, unable to answer his question before Vaggie burst through the rip in space with Charlie clutched in her arms.
The portal snapped shut behind them with a brittle crack that echoed across the balcony.
“Adam! Wait!” Charlie shouted.
“No one asked you and your guard dog to follow, princess,” Adam sneered at Charlie.
Meanwhile, Stara forced herself to her elbows, breath ragged and thoughts fractured.
'Abel... I have to find Abel.'
She pushed to her feet—only for her legs to buckle immediately.
The marble felt too loud beneath her claws. The sky above seemed to press into her skull. Every distant sound struck her senses like shattering glass.
Still, she staggered toward the balcony doors.
“Oh, hell no,” Adam snapped, whipping around to face her. “You're not going anywhere.”
He crossed the distance in seconds.
The blade flashed.
She twisted, but was too slow.
The sword slammed into her shoulder and carved down the length of her arm in a clean, brutal line.
White fire detonated through her nerves as they filled with molten lightning.
She screamed a sound that ripped across the open sky, shattering the stillness of Heaven like a dropped chalice.
Adam seized her by the throat and lifted her effortlessly.
Her feet scraped against the marble as he dragged her to the balcony railing.
“Stop! You're going to kill her!” Charlie shouted, reaching out for them.
“That's the idea, sugar tits,” Adam scoffed with a wide smile.
Vaggie lunged, only to freeze when Adam leveled his sword at her.
“Calm your clam, Vagasaurus,” he mocked before turning his attention back to Stara, eyes gleaming. “We're gonna see if this little birdie can fly.”
Without waiting another moment, his boot drove into her chest.
The world banished beneath her feet.
She went over the railing headfirst.
Air tore past her ears.
Marble, pillars, gold balconies spinning above.
Tears spilled free as her eyes closed.
“I can't take this anymore... I didn't do anything wrong,” she whispered to herself.
But something inside her answered, something cold and vast, and waiting for far too long.
“And that's why they deserve to feel my wrath.”
Her body reacted before thought would catch up.
Wide wings burst open, catching the air and halting her fall in an instant.
She hung suspended as they lifted her upward with powerful flaps.
Charlie gasped as Vaggie stared at the sight before them.
“There we go” Adam purred with excitement. “You're finally broken. About fucking time.”
He took a single step forward.
Stara's eyes shot open, glowing bright red with no pupils.
Her claws clutched her head as agony ripped through her skull.
The scream that tore free wasn't singular anymore.
It layered—deepened and expanded—becoming something that didn't belong to one throat.
Adam froze completely.
Charlie and Vaggie clamped their hands over their ears as the sound rang through the heavens.
“What the hell is going on?!” Vaggie shouted.
Clouds churned violently overhead, twisting into spirals that devoured the warm colors.
Sunlight flickered, dimmed, trembled as if unsure where it could shine.
Her wings blackened midair. White feathers curled and burned into ash before reforming darker.
A horned crown split into existence over her eyes, molten metal forcing itself into shape. It fused against her skull with a hiss like quenched iron.
She screamed in agony as bones snapped.
Two more sets of wings torn violently from her back, not sprouting but ripping through flesh. They unfurled thin and dry, locust-like, chittering with a sound that made the air itself recoil.
Her spine arched as two additional sets of insectoid arms burst from beneath her own, dripping with holy flame that didn't consume her but clung to her like judgment made tangible.
Her tail cracked. Bone lengthened, split, reformed. The arrow-head tip sharpened into a barbed scorpion stinger that coiled and lashed through open air.
The sun dimmed as though something vast stepped between it and the world.
Then locusts poured apparently from nowhere and everywhere—light, clouds, even from the very air. A writhing mass of black wings flooded Heaven's open expanse, blotting out what remained of the sun in suffocating swarms.
The transformation wasn't graceful.
It was agony.
Flesh tearing, feathers shredding and reforming while veins burned incandescent beneath translucent skin.
She screamed a roar that shook the very air, echoing across marble courtyards and gilded towers.
“Stara...” Charlie whispered as she stared up in horror.
“What the fuck?” Vaggie growled as she stepped in front of Charlie protectively.
Clarity shone in Adam's vision and his grin faltered.
“Shit.”
~n~
Sera rubbed her temples. The halls of judgment flickered slightly, but her attention was elsewhere. Her patience was wearing thin as she listened to Lute tried to make her case against Abel.
“Your Grace,” Lute started, fury lacing her voice. “Abel isn't fit to be the leader of the Exorcist army. He let that demon bitch let go AGAIN!”
“Is this true, Abel?” Sera asked Abel with a raised eyebrow.
He stood tall, chest puffed out, ready to give the answer he had practiced a hundred times in his head.
His mouth opened—
And a tremor rolled through the air like a discordant note in a sacred hymn.
Windows shook with a scream that didn't belong in Heaven as the sunlight dimmed.
The three of them froze before snapping their head to the source of the sound.
They rushed outside to see the blackened sky as locusts churned in violent spirals, their wings a deafening, suffocating chorus.
“What in God's grace—?” Lute growled, eyes narrowed.
They followed her gaze.
At the center of it all hovered a figure engulfed in holy flame with six blackened wings beating against the darkened sky. Insectile arms flexed at her sides, dripping light that scorched the air itself as a scorpion tail coiled behind her like a drawn blade.
A crown of molten horns fused across her brow with glowing red eyes shining through, not empty or mindless. Simply enraged.
“No... It can't be,” Sera whispered, hands covering her mouth.
Abel drifted forward unconsciously.
He could see the blue skin, the charcoal black hair.
His voice trembled.
“...Stara?”
The plague had arrived.
And she was furious.
“We have to stop this before the citizens of Heaven are hurt!” Sera shouted, surging forward with magic flowing from her fingers.
Lute and Abel followed without hesitation.
Abel's pulse thundered in his ears, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to witness.
Charlie and Vaggie looked up as the other angels arrived.
Sera hesitated as her eyes shifted between Stara and the rest of Heaven before landing on Abel.
His hands were gripping his robe so hard it creased.
With a final decision, her hands rose, fingers trembling despite her discipline.
Golden sigils spiraled from her palms, ancient and luminous. They weaved into the air like living scripture before spreading in widening arcs across the sky, intersecting, locking, sealing.
A dome of burning light slammed down around the mansion, the impact ringing like a cathedral bell struck too hard.
The air compressed as sound shifted and the world inside the barrier grew heavier.
Locusts outside the dome fizzled into ash while the ones inside thrived.
“There,” Sera said firmly, though her voice shook despite her effort to steady it. “I'll contain and assess the situation first. Heaven mustn't fall into panic.”
Above them, Stara hovered, her wings beating slowly as every stroke dragged ash across the sky. The locust swarm churned around her like a living crown of ruin. Her chest heaved as thick saliva dripped from her elongated fangs.
Abel couldn't breathe.
“... Stara.”
He moved forward., but stopped.
She wasn't looking at him. Her red gaze was fixed somewhere beyond sight as molten light bleeding from beneath the horned crown fused to her skull.
Her body trembled, not with fury alone, but with pain as well. Every movement looked wrong, forced, like her form had been built too quickly for her bones to remember how to hold it.
Abel's chest tightened.
He know she was hurting, but he didn't know how to help her anymore.
Lute didn't hesitate.
“I warned you all!” she snapped, drawing her blade in a streak of silver light. “I told you she was not to be trusted!”
She launched skyward in a burst of divine propulsion, wings slicing through the locust swarm as she withdrew her sword from its sheath.
“Hellspawn!”
She struck first.
The sword hurled forward like a comet.
It never reached its target.
One of Stara's insectile arms snapped outward midair and caught the weapon. The holy blade shrieked against her palm, light sputtering as blackened veins burned bright beneath her skin. Then ripped the sword free from Lute's grip and threw it toward the barrier.
The explosion of splintered divinity rippled through the dome.
Lute barely had time to widen her eyes before Stara moved.
She didn't fly so much as she just appeared in a blur of black wings.
Two wings slammed into Lute from opposite sides, pinning her midair.
The force cracked like thunder.
Feathers burst from Lute's back as she struggled.
“Let me—!”
The scorpion tail struck, piercing clean through her abdomen violently.
The barbed stinger drove through clothes as if it were parchment, erupting out her back in a spray of molten gold blood that gushed like a cascading waterfall.
The sound Lute made was small—almost confused.
“You have caused me pain,” Stara growled as she lifted her, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “Let me return the favor.”
Holy flame poured from the wound, burning inward.
Lute's scream tore through the dome.
Abel staggered forward.
“STOP!”
Stara's head twitched slightly at the sound of raised volume—but her gaze never found him, unable to recognize the voice that begged her to stop.
The crown burned too hot—demanding.
The insect arms tightened. One seized Lute's wing at the base and ripped. The wing tore free in a burst of light and blood. Pain riddled Lute's body, but she couldn't cry out anymore.
The containment dome cracked. A fracture splintered across its surface like lightning in glass.
Sera gasped and forced more power into the barrier, her hands shaking violently now.
“Enough!”
Stara hurled Lute downward, slamming her into the dome wall hard. The impact detonated a shockwave of divine energy that rattled the entirety of Heaven's skyline as the barrier bent inward, screaming under strain.
Lute slid down its inner surface and collapsed onto the marble below in a broken sprawl, blood streaming around her.
Silence followed, thick and heavy.
“Move.”
The voice cut through everything.
Adam stepped forward, wings flaring wide, sword blazing with renewed light.
“That bitch's mine.”
Sera froze.
Abel's head snapped toward him.
“Dad?”
Adam's grin was sharp and manic, glowing golden eyes locked on Stara.
“You think I'm gonna waste this chance?”
Lute, barely conscious, lifted her head to see him.
Recognition shattered her.
“... Adam?” she whispered as she reached out a trembling hand toward him, the hale dimming on her wrist.
He didn't look at her, but his body tensed.
“I'm finishing what I started,” he growled, rolling his shoulders. “And then you can all thank me for it.”
Sera's wings stilled, eyes wide as she had a horrifying realization.
Evalin sat at her tarot table in the Mystery Shack gift shop, lazily shuffling and reorganizing her deck. Across the room, Stan was busy inventorying a fresh shipment of Easter Island statue replicas, muttering numbers under his breath as he checked them off his clipboard.
Evalin barely paid attention to him as her mind kept drifting back to her morning with Ford.
Her cheeks puffed out in irritation as she shuffled the card harder than necessary.
'Such an asshole,' she thought to herself. 'Why does he feel the need to tease me like that? I should put hot sauce in his coffee...'
She paused mid-shuffle.
'No. I wouldn't disrespect coffee like that.'
A card slipped from her fingers and fluttered onto the table.
Evalin blinked and looked down to see the Seven of Swords.
Her eye twitched and her slowly lifted her gaze to scan the gift shop.
'No customers yet... but boss man Soos should be finishing up with a tour soon. Which means this place is about to be crawling with people.'
Her fingers drummed against the table as she thought, then she sighed.
“Hey, Stanley.”
Stan glanced up from his clipboard.
“What's up, Spooky?”
'Godsdamn it,' she huffed to herself. 'Of course that nickname stuck with him.'
She rolled her eyes before leaning forward slightly, her expression sharpening.
“Keep an eye on the next tour group,” she warned calmly. “There's a thief in the house.”
“What, did your kooky magic deck tell you that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Evalin recoiled dramatically, clutching her chest in offense.
“Seriously? How rude!” she exclaimed before crossing her arms defensively. “I'll have you know every one of my predictions has come true. Remember that dimwitted journalist who came in for a reading? Pulled The Star? Next day he sneezed so hard he caused a car accident—bam! Front page news.”
“...Huh. I did hear about that,” he muttered, rubbing his chin before his gaze sharpened “You really think someone's got sticky fingers today?”
Evalin nodded, then waved a hand lazily.
“As much as I'd love to joke about you seeming like the type of guy who appreciates doing a five-finger discount—“
Stan narrowed his eyes.
“You callin' me a thief, crazy lady?”
“I'm saying you probably do some shady shit,” she teased, smirking.
He stared at her for a moment before snorting.
“Touché,” he chuckled before straightening up and rolling his shoulders. “Alright, I'll keep my eyes peeled. Thanks, Spooky.”
Evalin sank back in her chair, watching Stan walk off. She shuffled her deck again just as Soos entered with the latest tour group.
“A'ight, dudes and dudettes! Last stop: the gift shop!” Soos announced brightly. “And hey, what's a great vacation without some wacky overpriced souvenirs, amirite?”
The group chuckled and began dispersing around the store.
Some browsed shelves. Others drifted toward the register where Melody was ringing up purchases. Everything seemed normal—calm, harmless, typical tourist behavior.
Still, Evalin's warning echoed in Stan's mind.
He kept his shoulders square as he watched the crowd.
Then he saw him.
One teenager lingered near the expensive merchandise, hovering a little too close to the display shelves. His hands kept twitching toward the pockets of his oversized hoodie, eyes darting around like he was waiting for a moment of distraction.
“You think that's our guy?” he muttered as he leaned toward Evalin.
Evalin didn't look up from her cards as she sat across from a tourist.
“I don't know, Stanley. I'm in the middle of a reading. That's why I warned you specifically. You're a big boy—you punched out a Nix. I trust you can handle a human just fine.”
She turned back to her customer and flipped over a card.
“Looks like you pulled the Knight of Swords,” she said pleasantly. “Hasty, but successful action in your near future. How interesting.”
Stan gave her a suspicious look before turning back toward the teen.
Right on cue, one of the Easter Island statues disappeared from the shelf. The teen made a quick beeline for the door.
“Hey, punk! Put that back!” Stan shouted as he lurched forward.
The teen's eyes widened—and he bolted.
Stan charged after him, pushing past startled customers as he sprinted across the shop.
“Excuse me,” Evalin sighed politely to her customer as she stood from the table stationed near the exit. “Looks like I need to do damage control.”
Then she stepped outside, door shutting behind her.
A second later, Stan burst through it—and froze.
Evalin was gone.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed as he scanned the empty parking lot in confusion.
Movement flickered at the far end of the lot as Evalin stepped seemingly out of nowhere directly into the teen's path, arms crossed.
The kid barely had time to react.
WHAM.
He slammed into her and bounced off like he'd hit a brick wall, crashing to the ground in a heap.
Evalin barely staggered.
“Hey! You little shit!” she snapped, scowling. “That fucking hurt!”
The teen scrambled to his feet and tried to run again.
“Oh, to hell with you, asshole!” Evalin growled lowly as she reached into her bra, pulled out a paper sigil, and slapped it into his back. The moment it touched him, his body locked up and he dropped like a stone.
Evalin exhaled sharply and dusted off her dress.
“Fucking disrespectful shit,” she mumbled as she crouched down to get the fake gold statue from his pocket. “You're a mean little kid.”
Then she stood and walked back toward the Shack, completely ignoring the muffled, paralyzed curses behind her.
Stan stood frozen in the doorway. Evalin stopped when she saw him staring. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then she held up the statue.
“Got it.”
Stan blinked before a massive grin spread across his face.
“That was badass!”
Evalin jolted.
“...What?”
Stan stepped over and took the statue.
“You got our merch back and slapped the hell out of a teenager. That's a double win in my book!” he exclaimed before peeking past her and spotting the frozen kid still lying on the ground. “...Uh. He gonna be okay? I don't want a lawsuit.”
“He'll be fine,” she answered casually. “The sigil wears off in a few minutes.”
Stan's grin returned full force as he grabbed her arm.
“You're a goddamn genius!”
Evalin's eyes widened.
“Huh?! Wait—I thought you hated my magic!”
“What?” he said, wrinkling his nose. “No. I just don't trust it. Too much weird shit in this town already.”
He shrugged, adding, “But you clearly know what you're doing. And you're using that mumbo-jumbo to help me, so I'd say that's a pretty good deal.”
Evalin's eye twitched.
'This fucking guy...'
She sighed before tilting her head.
“So you're not afraid of my magic anymore?”
“Hey, I never said that!” he barked with a laugh. “I saw your hand get eaten by fire to save me and my bro from that freaky time slug thing. You're a goddamn force of nature, Spooky. I respect that.”
Evalin blinked and looked away sheepishly, tugging her hat down slightly.
“Well, yeah... I could've told you that,” she muttered.
Stan glanced at her hands, raising an eyebrow.
“By the way, how's your hand doing? That burn looked pretty nasty.”
“All better,” she chirped as she wiggled her fingers at him.
Then she added mentally, 'Though noticing over a week later is a little concerning, you oblivious fool.'
“Lookin' good,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows with a lopsided smile, “like the rest of ya.”
Evalin blinked.
“...Thanks?”
She stared at him, confused.
'I think that was a compliment? Not sure what my looks have to do with my magic though...'
“I could watch you all day if you keep doing badass stuff like that, sweetie,” he chuckled.
“Sweet stars!” Evalin groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “You too?!”
Stan jolted slightly.
“Huh?”
She rubbed her temples.
“Never mind. I have work to get back to.”
She brushed past him and headed back inside.
Stan watched her walk away.
The confident sway of her stride.
The bounce of her hair beneath her hat.
The way she sat down back down at her table like she hadn't just flatten a teenager in a parking lot.
His heart fluttered in his chest and his smirk widened.
