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sluttyten · 1 year

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UNHOLY - Chapter Sixteen

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

summary: Renjun led you, WinWin, and Mark away from the House, brought you to a portal, but you couldn’t even imagine where it will lead to, and what exactly you will find on the other side.

length: 17,340 words

tags: a few things, but the only one that’s really important is tw vomit (at just one small point) and angst, which there’s a decent amount of this chapter

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Swimming through the icy cold black waters of this portal fountain takes more out of you than you could have imagined. Only the presence of WinWin at your side, his hand in yours, keeps you moving onward, moving down into the colder and darker abyss. This water feels deeper than the portal into Purgatory had. Your lungs scream for air, but you can’t see the light of the surface rising towards you yet.

WinWin’s arm slides around your waist instead of just holding your hand.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe this has all been a trap.

Maybe you’re swimming into nothing, down into the abyss that you had hoped to save yourselves and Yuta and Ten from. Would it be so bad, you wonder? To just open your mouth and let the black water in? To keep sinking?

You’re so tired.

WinWin’s arm hooks around your middle, his legs kick and bump against yours as he continues swimming. You weakly try to keep going, but what’s the point when all that is ahead of you and behind you and on either side of you is blackness. There’s no sign of Mark or Renjun. There’s nothing. The water is thick and black, a struggle to swim through even if you’d been full of energy.

It makes no difference whether your eyes are open or closed, so you close them. You kick your legs, and hope WinWin is still swimming down. Or is it up at this point? You can’t even tell. You feel so waterlogged that gravity has no meaning.

You feel WinWin kicking his legs more frantically, swimming forward with a renewed sense of desperation, and you wonder if he’s running out of air as well. Are these the last surges of energy before he gives up too?

You’re startled out of your existential dread when your head breaks the surface.

There’s only time to gasp, expelling water, sucking in a tiny breath, before you’re pushed back under.

WinWin’s arm tightens around you, fingers slipping on your skin as he attempts to drag you back towards the surface. You open your eyes, feeling the sting of briny water, and you realize why you hadn’t seen the surface approaching.

Waves roll overhead, pushing you and WinWin down beneath the water again, buffeting you back from the shore as he attempts to swim for it. Dark sand and pebbles roll beneath your toes, a gray sky of roiling black clouds flashes with lightning above the surface before everything fades to black again. Only when the lightning flashes can you see anything at all, but the fact that there’s a surface world to see reinvigorates you to try.

Now you grasp WinWin, swimming with him again for the surface only to be buffeted down again. And again. Your lungs sear with the need for air again, but WinWin grabs your hand, swimming with you along the pebbly bottom of this sea, aiming for the slope up towards the shoreline, hoping that if you just stick to the bottom that it will be easier to make it to the surface. You keep your eyes forward and upward, watching for any lull in the waves, any sign that the stormy sea could be calming even a little bit.

WinWin’s fingers dig into your wrist, jerking you forward, trying to get you to swim faster. You understand the urgency of the situation. Your lungs ache with the need to breathe, and you know that you’ve only got moments before your instinct to breathe overwhelms your sense to not drown.

You can feel the storm waves beating down above you, the force of them sending you crashing more than once down against the pebbles, getting a nose full of sand at one point, but still you and WinWin struggle onward.

Again, you break the surface, feet somewhat steady on the pebbled seabottom. A wave crashes over you causing your knees to buckle. You force yourself to your feet again. Another wave. You crawl forward, receiving a slap over the head from a mountain of water. You drag yourself through the foam piling on the edge of the shore, washing through the stones which roll, slick with seawater and moss and slime, but this time, the wave only washes over you. This time you can gasp for breath and breathe in the air. This time you haul yourself forward, and collapse facedown on the shore.

“I’m–” Beside you, WinWin’s voice is a rasp, coughing up and gagging on saltwater forcing its way out of his lungs. He tries again, “I’m never fucking doing that again.”

“Agreed,” answers a voice from a few feet away.

You lift your head.

The storm rages on overhead, lightning illuminating the shore. Renjun is spread out on his back, embracing a faceful of rain. He turns his head to look at you. “I’m glad you could join us. That was brutal.”

“Where’s Mark?” You ask. You can’t bring yourself to sit up or do more than lift your head.

“Over here.”

His voice comes from your other side. You don’t have it in you to turn your head that way. You don’t even have the strength to keep your head up. You drop your cheek back to the pebbly sand beach. Your whole body aches. Your shoulder throbs. There’s a pounding headache growing. Your cheek burns from the saltwater and the grit that have touched the slash on your cheek from that branch earlier.

The pebble sand crunches, and you feel Mark’s hand on your shoulder, his touch gentle as he carefully turns you over. You blink as the rain peppers your face, but there is Mark above you, blurry again for the second time in the last half an hour.

“Baby,” he says affectionately, stroking your hair. “You’re safe now.”

Mark shifts, sitting down on the wet stones, and he lifts your head into his lap. You want to close your eyes and sleep, but Mark touches his cool fingers to the side of your throbbing head, pressing in a way that makes it feel even worse. You squeeze your eyes shut, startled a little when his skin brushes your lips. Then you feel the wet heat, taste the metallic tinge leaking over your lips, and you realize what’s happening.

“Drink. You need it.” Mark curls around you, ignoring the other two as they pull themselves up off the ground.

You hate the taste of blood, but you can’t deny that you can feel it taking effect as soon as you first swallow down a bit of it. The pain lessens, strength returning, the scratch on your cheek knits itself back together. You push his wrist away after you’ve had your fill, now utterly disgusted by the taste of the blood on your tongue.

Mark softly kisses your forehead. “Better?”

You nod. “Better. Thank you, Mark.” You sit up, brushing away the sand that sticks to you, and as Mark moves away to go check on Renjun, you take a look around.

The stormy sea extends far into the distance ahead of you. Behind you, a steep cliff rises into the sky, a narrow, winding stair cuts up the face of the stone, leading up to the top of the cliff, tufts of grass and chunks of white and pink flowers peek over the cliff’s edge. There’s a small hint of something, and as you blink through the rain trying to see it, you can’t quite make out what’s up there, other than a shadowy indication that there is some sort of structure up there. But there’s no real sign of what type of sanctuary Renjun has brought you to.

“Where are we?” You ask, pushing up onto your feet.

WinWin groans, lifting himself off the ground, slowly rising onto his feet. He stares up at the cliff. Mark comes to stand on your other side, and Renjun steps up beside him as well.

“We’re still in Purgatory,” Renjun explains, “But they won’t be able to find us here. We’re safe.” He sighs heavily and points up at the winding stairway up the cliff face. “But we still have to climb up there.”

Even after drinking the healing blood from Mark, your body is aching and tired. The prospect of climbing all that way sounds dreadful.

“Do we have to?” WinWin staggers, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Unless you want to live on this beach,” Renjun says, “Yes, we have to. There’s someone up there that wants to see us. He’s eager to meet everyone.”

You, Mark, and WinWin exchange confused looks, but in typical fashion, Renjun doesn’t elaborate. He walks away toward the base of the cliff.

“We are safe here, aren’t we?” WinWin mutters out the side of his mouth. Mark shrugs.

“There’s only one way to find out.” You pick your way carefully over the beaten pebbles at the sea’s edge to the bigger rocks where the beach butts up against the cliff’s base. You call back at them, “Come on!”

You choose not to think about how long and grueling this climb up to the top of the cliff is going to be. You’ll just take it one step at a time, following behind Renjun with slow progress as all of you are tired and sore at this point. The only relief in all of this is that there is a handrail fixed to the cliff’s face, making it slightly easier to haul yourself up step-by-step. You can’t look down either, terrified as the ground falls away and the cliff slopes steeply down to the rocks below.

Only once do you look down and that’s only to look backwards, checking to make sure that Mark and WinWin are behind you. You’re surprised to find that they are, but more than that, Mark is carrying WinWin on his back. WinWin’s arms are around Mark’s shoulders, his legs around Mark’s waist, his cheek resting against the top of Mark’s head. To Mark’s credit, he doesn’t seem too burdened at all, but that could just be a perk to his vampire strength.

You’re all panting, drawing in ragged breaths, calves and thighs burning from the climb when at last your party emerges at the top.

Mark collapses to his knees, dumping WinWin off onto the soft green grass that covers the ground up here, and WinWin, without complaint, spreads out like he’s on the softest bed. Renjun stands with his hands on his hips, face lifted to the rain which has tapered to a gentle mist. You want to do what all three of them are doing, but instead you look out at your surroundings.

You stand on top of an island in the midst of an endless sea. Strange gulls wheel on the wind above the island. In the distance there is sunlight shining on a blue sea, but here the air is bitterly cold and damp with teeth, cutting through your wet clothes. The steely gray sea batters against the shore beneath you, splashing high up the face of the cliff to your right where you can see huge monolithic rocks rising from the water; they must have once been a part of the cliff before weather and time cast them down into the sea.

Closer at hand, there is something much more amazing.

A lone lighthouse sits here atop the island. And it’s not just a lighthouse. It’s more of a house that happens to have a lighthouse sticking out of it, the top of it nearly disappearing in the clouds. The house itself is gleaming white, polished and clean. It is a fine house, not nearly as large as the House you’d just left, but it’s more than large enough to house you and your companions, and certainly much larger than anything you’d expected to find here. A nicely paved path winds from where you stand, through the gate of a white picket fence, to the front steps of the house.

The gate in the fence is already partially open, moving slightly in the breeze. Flowers line the pathway; beautiful flowers like you’ve never seen in vibrant colors that stand out even in the muted light from the storm. It looks inviting, but there’s no one here to invite you in.

“So where’s our host?” Mark asks from his spot kneeling on the ground. He rolls his shoulders, shaking out his arms. “Who is it?”

Renjun glances over at you. “Don’t freak out.”

That makes WinWin roll over onto his stomach. “Why would we freak out?”

“Well,” Renjun wrings his hands together. “He is a Watcher.”

You’ve never seen WinWin move so fast, even with his injury. One second he’s lying on the ground, and in the next he’s right in front of Renjun, his hand tight around the other’s throat.

Renjun coughs, hands struggling at WinWin’s fingers.

“I– said– don’t–” Renjun chokes out, feet kicking in the air as WinWin lifts him.

“What excuse could you possibly have?” WinWin growls, eyes flashing yellow in the gray light of the storm. “How could you have brought us here? Brought her here, claiming this would be a safe place for her? What explanation is there?”

“A simple one,” states a calm voice, startling all of you.

A man stands several feet away, leaning on the fence. His hair is wind-tousled, long and loose around his face. Just looking at him, you can’t quite determine his age. He’s older than you, that’s certain, but his face is unlined and full of a youthful glow; his eyes betray him, deep and worn with age, like he’s seen everything since the beginning of time. But he offers up a smile.

“I’m glad you all could make it. The storm had me a bit worried, and of course, the unexpected change in plans leading to a more rushed arrival meant I didn’t have much time to make arrangements,” the man says, a shine in his eyes. He stands up straight, reaching forward to swing the gate open further. He looks over the three of you, his gaze landing on WinWin. “You need not worry, my boy. She will be safe here. All of you are welcome and safe here in my home. That means you have to let go of him.”

With a slight frown, WinWin releases Renjun, who gasps as his feet touch down again; he scrambles away, putting a few feet of distance between himself and the werewolf. WinWin ignores Renjun, automatically moving closer to you, his arm brushing against yours. “All of us?”

The man nods again, offering an even brighter smile. “Of course. I’m grateful to have you all here.”

“Excuse me,” Mark says, finally pushing up from his spot kneeling on the ground. “But why do you care? Why are we here? Who are you?”

Your gracious host steps aside, swinging the gate fully open now. “Would you like to come inside? We could discuss all of this much more comfortably inside, out of the elements.”

Renjun walks through the gate, passing by the man and heading straight for the house. None of the three of you move, watching him go, watching your host still watching you.

“Why should we trust you?” WinWin asks.

“Trust is a big thing for you, isn’t it?” The man says, and he lifts a hand from the fence to comb his hair back from where the wind keeps blowing it in front of his eyes. “I can’t blame you, of course. Having been raised as a lone wolf, of course you’re going to be protective when you’ve finally found your pack as an adult.” His gaze hones in on you. “When you find someone truly worth protecting, why would you be able to trust anyone who might put her in harm’s way.”

WinWin growls, stepping in front of you to hide you from the man’s sight. You peer around WinWin, not wanting to look away from the strangely calm and warm aura the man gives off. He grins, sending a wink your way, and there’s something almost feline about the way that he holds himself in that moment – a certain pride and amusement at the situation that you swear only cats can embody.

Mark shifts beside you, and the man’s gaze returns to him.

“To answer your questions, young man, you are here because I’ve invited you here. I’m bringing you under my wing of protection, into my home, where you will be shielded from the ever-Watchful eyes of my brother Watchers.” His gaze cuts suddenly back to WinWin when he says, “And you can trust me not to betray you to them because I have been hiding here from them for a few decades now. If anything, I should be worrying that it is you I cannot trust.”

You can tell from the tense set of WinWin’s shoulders that he doesn’t like having that accusation thrown at him. You twist your hand in the back of his shirt, and you rest your cheek against his arm. He relaxes only slightly.

The man shrugs. “I’m not really worried. Any enchantments or tracking or bugging they might have somehow placed on you would have been washed away in the sea and negated by the other shields put around this island.”

From his words alone, you can tell that he must be powerful if he can hide himself and this entire island from the Watchers. But now that you look closer at him, as you truly focus on the man leaning against the fence, you realize that you can feel the power emanating from him. This isn’t just a Watcher that Renjun has brought you to. He must be a high-level Watcher, like those who have immense power rivaling or perhaps even surpassing the High Watcher himself.

“Like I said before,” the man continues, “you’re safe here. I haven’t held the same beliefs as my brothers for many, many years. My brothers favor humans, thinking very little of the supernatural beings. I find God’s other creations delightful, wonderful companions for the most part. Werewolves, demons, and vampires.” His gaze flicks towards Mark, settling on him and the scrapes that are still healing from the scuffle with the creatures in the garden of the Watchers. “I know my brothers don’t feel the same.”

“I appreciate that, sir.” Mark dips his head, staring down at his feet. “But you still haven’t answered why you care enough to offer us protection. And we still don’t know who you are.”

He smiles warmly once again, gesturing back towards his house. The front door is open, Renjun having disappeared inside. “Once again, I welcome you to come inside where we can talk about it.” He looks from Mark to you, then says, “The storm doesn’t quite look like it’s clearing up any time soon, and the three of you already look soaked to the bone. I’ve got warm showers, fresh clothes, and a kitchen table waiting to be filled with food fit for guests.”

WinWin sighs as a sharp breeze blows up the cliff’s face, whipping and biting at your backs. He shivers, and you remember that his clothing, in addition to being soaking wet, has large gaping holes in it from when you went supernova in the garden. WinWin says, “Let’s just go inside. You trust Renjun, Renjun trusts him. I guess we’re all just in one big fucking trust circle.” He reaches down to take your hand, and you quickly tangle your fingers with his to offer a reassuring squeeze. WinWin glances over to check your face, then he says, “Also, I’m starving, and a warm shower sounds amazing.”

Your host laughs.

The sound rings on the wind, and for a moment you swear a distant ray of sunlight spans the ocean to warm your back. His eyes shine with a glint that almost strikes you as familiar. He turns on his heel and walks along the paved path toward his front porch.

You slip your free hand into Mark’s, holding tight to both him and WinWin as you walk along behind your host.

The man is very handsome. He cuts a tall, imposing figure. Dark hair peppered with a hint of silver at the temples reaches down towards his shoulders in a well-kept manner. He holds himself very properly – very straight posture with his shoulders back, his gait even to the point where he could be floating over the path. He climbs the couple steps up onto his porch, and then strides right through the front door.

The porch curves along half the length of the front of the house and then around the corner. There are chairs, small tables, plants, and you notice a bird’s nest nestled in one of the rafters of the porch roof. A set of windchimes makes soft, soothing music at the corner of the porch, and for a moment you can picture yourself sitting here, watching the sun cross the sky, enjoying the breeze and maybe a nice cup of tea. Relaxing.

“Coming?” Mark asks, tugging lightly at your hand. He’s already got one foot over the threshold of the house. WinWin has released your hand, and taken it upon himself to step around Mark, entering the house before either of you so he can stand right in the entryway and look around in surprise at the place.

You step closer to Mark, looping your arm around his, and together you step inside.

Immediately you’re in the body of the lighthouse. The walls rise in a hexagonal shape, a set of stairs hanging tight to the odd-shaped walls up to the next floor and then one more above it. You tip your head back to admire the stained glass colors stretching across the opening to the floor above you as a few stray beams of sunlight make their way through the house’s windows. To your right, an archway leads into a sitting room. A fire crackles in the fireplace, artwork lines the walls. There’s a piano, a few sofas, and something that burns with a scent and a staticky feeling that you can only define as magic.

Mark tugs at your hand, bringing your attention around, and this time you look through the matching archway on your left. This one leads into the kitchen. A large, open kitchen that could fit two dozen people comfortably. A long kitchen table stretches the length of the room. Another fireplace burns here. Dried herbs and flowers hang from a rack suspended from the ceiling. Pots and pans gleam on the long countertop that lines the back wall. There are plenty more windows here, though several are shuttered against the weather.

Someone clears their throat.

Your host stands across from you, standing perfectly in the center of the space, over the heart of a compass rose inlay as part of the pattern of the wooden floor. Renjun stands there too, admiring a painting on the wall beneath the stairs. WinWin faces him too, just a few feet ahead of you.

“Welcome,” the man says, spreading his arms wide. “Bedrooms and showers are upstairs on the left.” He lifts his hand indicating the left wing of the house. “Take your pick of the bedrooms. The bathrooms, I apologize, are detached from the bedrooms and there are only two of them.”

You remember the home you lived in growing up with your mother and your father. Well, your step-father, you suppose. That’s going to take some getting used to, thinking of him that way. Even after the initial partially false news that Yuta and Ten had given you about your partial demonic heritage, you’d still believed the man who raised you to be your biological father. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he might not actually be, not until the other bombshell they’d dropped on you not even twenty-four hours ago.

Anyway, you were letting yourself get sidetracked. Your host made the two-bathroom situation sound like something to actually be sorry about, but in the house you’d grown up in, you and your parents had shared just a single bathroom. Your first apartment back home when you’d moved out and gotten a roommate had only had one bathroom, the one after that when you lived alone until you disappeared to Hell City had only one bathroom. The apartment in Hell City had only one. Up until you’d arrived at the House of the Watchers, the idea of having more than one bathroom had been almost foreign to you. Having two bathrooms in this house is certainly no problem, not to you.

“Towels, toiletries, clothing. Whatever you need,” the man is saying, “Just wish for it, and it shall appear.” He smiles, and his eyes crinkle in the corners.

Mark looks over at you, squeezing your hand in his like he wants your attention, but in that moment your host is still speaking, saying, “After you’ve all showered, warmed up and dried off, I’ll be down here in the kitchen, and you’re welcome to rejoin me for a warm breakfast and the answers to your many questions.”

With an incline of his head, you’re all dismissed.

Renjun dashes up the spiral stair, vanishing with the sound of a closing door before your foot has even touched the bottom step. Mark and WinWin trail you up the stairs, and you stop once you reach the landing. The hallway that stretches into the left wing of the house is open, showing a blank stretch of hall with eight doors leading off of it, and it dead ends at a window that looks out over the sea. Seven of the doors stand open, but the one closest to where you stand is closed with the sound of running water behind it.

On the opposite side of the landing, the way into the right wing is closed. A pair of double doors bar the way, but if you had to guess, you would say that your host’s bedroom lies in that direction.

WinWin brushes right by you, heading for the second bathroom. “Let’s get showered,” he says, “I want some answers.”

“So do I.” Mark follows right behind WinWin, and of course, so do you. All three of you lock yourselves into the bathroom.

The whole room is a sterile white. Rectangular white tiles line the walls, small white tiles cover the floor. A white tub, white sink, a white corner of the bathroom that acts as a shower, a white-edged full-length mirror sits across from the tub and the shower, and there’s a white toilet, white towels, white curtains over the frosted glass of the window. To a certain degree, it reminds you of the green bathroom in the House of the Watchers. Though that could just be the heavy reliance on the antique fixtures and ancient plumbing. The pipes shudder and groan when WinWin reaches over to turn on the water of the shower. The water pours from the shower head but also from a hidden shower head up at the ceiling that you’d missed before. The spray splatters against the tile floor, and you notice that the floor does at least slightly slope towards a drain in the corner so the water doesn’t go everywhere.

WinWin pulls his burnt clothes off, kicking them over into the corner near the door. He steps under the shower’s spray as soon as steam begins to rise, and he moans softly at the massaging heat of the water.

Without any clothes or anything else to shield him, you can at last see his leg. The right ankle is swollen, his calf is bruised and bleeding slightly with visible claw and teeth marks ranging as high as his upper thigh.

“WinWin,” you gasp, walking over to him without any regard for the clothes you’re wearing as the shower begins to soak right through you. “Your leg!”

He nods. “I know.”

“Well, doesn’t it hurt?” You ask, sinking down to touch lightly, taking a closer look at the injury. “This looks like you need some medical attention.”

“Stop,” he groans softly, touching your shoulder. “I don’t think there are any doctors here. And the second best option, the one that healed up you and Renjun, is as likely to kill me as heal me.” He looks behind you to Mark. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get it clean, get something to eat, and maybe our new pal will have some magic Watcher remedy to fix their fucked-up monsters’ bites.”

Mark snorts a little laugh, and you turn to look at him, watching him as he starts to strip too. His shirt hits the floor, his thumbs tuck into the waistband of his pants. A whistle from him draws your eyes up to Mark’s face. “Eyes up here, sweetheart. Unless you plan to stay on your knees for us like a good girl.”

WinWin groans. “No. Not right now.” He reaches down, tucking his hands beneath your armpits to haul you up to your feet. You open your mouth to protest, but WinWin’s already pulling your shirt over your head, and that silences you. “We have more important things to be doing that the two of you fucking around in the shower. I’m sure we’ll have time for that later, and I’d love to join in then, but right now we’re showering. Just showering.”

Your shirt comes off, and you push away his hands when he reaches for your pants. “I’ve got it. I’m not a child. I can undress myself.”

Mark whistles again as you bend over to push your pants down, and you and WinWin both turn to glare at him. He holds his hands up in surrender and looks away from your bare ass. “I’m sorry, I was just… We just really marked you up a lot more than I thought. Are you just that soft, babe? Bruise like a sweet little peach?”

That’s when you take a look down at yourself, and take a long look at your reflection in the full body mirror.

From your throat down to mid thigh, your skin is patterned with hickeys, bite marks, light bruising and scratches. You knew you got a bit carried away with them before you fell asleep, but you didn’t remember all this. It was like each of them had been trying his best to stake his claim on you. You’re not sure who exactly won.

WinWin’s fingers brush lightly over a bruise on your throat. “Maybe he’ll have some magical Watcher remedy for this too.”

When Mark joins the both of you under the steaming shower, you notice that he doesn’t have any lingering injuries or remnants of last night. He looks perfect, and you have to force yourself to look only at his face or risk distraction. WinWin is helpful in managing to stay on track. For the most part, each of you focuses on yourselves as you scrub away the grime of the Watchers’ garden, the salt of the sea, the blood and sweat from the fight, but every now and then you can’t fight the urge to just reach over and slide a few fingers down Mark’s spine as soap bubbles draw a path. You can’t help it that the warm water and the finally standing still are making you sleepy so you take a moment to lean your head against WinWin.

“Not right now,” WinWin says gently, petting your head. “We’ve gotta get back downstairs.”

You have many things you want in that moment. You want to sleep. You want to lose yourself again in the touches of these two men. You want to march downstairs and demand answers from your host and from Renjun. You want to be back in the House of the Watchers, either breaking your boyfriends out of the dungeons or supporting them through the trial. You want for all of this to be over, for none of it to have happened. You want to wake up from this nightmare, to find yourself back in the apartment in Hell City, tucked safe and sound between Yuta and Ten with no idea that Watchers exist, with no idea that you’re anything other than a little more than human.

WinWin finishes showering first, and he is the first to put into use the version of manifesting that exists here. He manifests clothes for himself, for Mark, for you.

The bathroom across the hall is empty when the three of you emerge, and you can hear Renjun’s voice downstairs, echoing from the kitchen. The house is so quiet that you can hear the crashing of the waves on the shore beneath the cliff. Mark takes the lead down the stairs, and you hang back with WinWin, studying the slow way that he navigates down the stairs, taking care not to put too much weight on his right leg.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs to you. “It doesn’t hurt all that badly. It’ll be fine, princess. I'm sure this guy has got some sort of fix-it for me, okay?”

You sigh at him. “I'm banning the use of the word ‘fine’ between us all, okay? I don’t think any of us know how to use it.”

That brings a smile to WinWin’s face, and Mark turns at the bottom of the stairs to look up at you. “What about: you’re looking fine today, babe. Does that work?” Mark asks, trying his best to wink at you, except it’s almost more of a blink. It’s cute though, so you laugh.

You find Renjun and your host seated at that long table in the kitchen. They’re seated at the far end, with the older man at the head of the table, both of them eating a selection of fruits, breads, and other light breakfast foods. A steaming carafe of coffee sits on the table, and WinWin reaches for it as soon as he’s seated, taking the seat on the left hand of your host while Renjun’s already sitting on his right hand side.

Mark slips in beside Renjun, and you take the seat beside WinWin. Your foot nudges against Mark’s ankle beneath the table, and he glances up at you from beneath his eyelashes with a faint smile, and then his ankles close around one of yours, holding you there even as your host begins to strike up conversation.

“Do you feel better?” He asks kindly. “I could expand the house to add more showers, if that would be more convenient? I didn’t mean to put a rush on you, or intend that you should all three have to shower together.” His warm gaze settles on you before moving in turn to Mark and WinWin.

“That’s okay, sir,” Mark says. “We don’t mind.”

The man cocks his head slightly to the side, but if he has any thoughts in particular about that, he keeps them to himself. “Anyway,” he says, clapping his hands together. “I believe you had some questions for me. And now that we’re all settled, I have some answers for you. Please, eat while I talk.”

You are rather hungry. Your dinner last night was interrupted by Mark, and you’d certainly worked up an appetite since then. So sitting here now, you reach for a little bit of everything, just needing to fill up. WinWin does the same, grabbing large helpings of the available options. Mark simply sits back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he observes your host.

“Are you finally going to tell us who you are, sir?” Mark puts the question forth.

At the head of the table, your host nods. “Of course.”

You wait for a moment as he shifts to get more comfortable in his seat, and then he folds his hands on his stomach, and begins speaking.

“This lighthouse has been around for many, many years. Before Purgatory was established, the pathways between Earth and Heaven went straight there. There was no confusion, no way of being lost. But when my father created Purgatory for my brothers and I, he added this new step, a layover for souls on their journey to Heaven. Because of the added step, there was confusion initially, souls were lost, and some still wander the dark corners of Purgatory, searching for their way to Heaven. For the benefit of loss prevention, the lighthouses were built; a series of lighthouses throughout Purgatory to guide new souls on the way to Heaven, to find the lost souls and redirect them on the correct path. These lighthouses are the light at the end of the tunnel that humans talk about, though occasionally there are some souls who catch a glimpse of it before their time.

“Some of my brothers were given swaths of land in Purgatory. The rich fields, mountainside views, each of us gifted a lighthouse and territory to control to assist our High Watcher in his rule. I think, truly, it was a way of keeping my brothers and I apart, a way to perhaps limit our search for knowledge. We, the first generation of Watchers, have always been believed to be more powerful together than apart, so separating us was a good decision by the High Watcher when he feared a coup. We were scattered, only ever together when he summoned us to the House.

“Over the millennia, the lighthouses became less useful until now when they are nearly obsolete. My brothers have found other ways of directing the souls to Heaven, and thus, have retired several of the lighthouses. This one is retired, which made it much easier to move and hide this island without the notice of my father, the High Watcher, or any of my brothers. No one cares to visit an empty, obsolete old structure, and by the time any of them thought to come look for me, neither I nor my lighthouse was where it ought to have been.”

He looks proud of himself, and once again, you get the sense of looking at a cat. The pleased tilt of his smile, the way his eyes flick around the table to each of your faces.

“This is all a great history lesson,” WinWin says around a mouthful of cream bread. “But it’s not really answering our question.”

“Patience,” your host chastises. “I knew that I had to hide myself and my island because I knew that one day, I would need a safe haven to hide the things dear to me. For some things, by the time I went to collect them, I was too early, for others too late. There’s no better way to bring a powerful man down than making him feel powerless by finding that the one he longs to protect has already been taken away by the time he arrives. Moments, hours too late.”

He stares down at his hands folded on his stomach, and you feel the weight sinking into your own stomach.

You know exactly what he means, how he feels.

It’s how you’d felt when your parents were killed. Like, if maybe you’d come home earlier, or if you hadn’t been out, then maybe you could have done something.

It’s how you felt about Yuta and Ten, knowing that maybe if you’d mastered your powers more, then when Hansol had come for them in Hell City, maybe you could’ve stayed to fight instead of Ten making you flee. Instead you’d sat powerless and scared in your apartment while they were taken away. And even when you’d found them again, you still had no power to get them out. Look at you now. You don’t even know what’s happening to them.

As if Mark can sense how you’re feeling in the moment, he leans forward. His hand brushes your knee beneath the table, and he catches your eye, silently offering reassurance and his hand to hold if you need it.

Your host continues. “Several years after I withdrew to this place, I was contacted by an old friend. One of my younger brothers, whom I had personally trained in his youth, whom I consider myself closest to of all of my brothers, reached out to me with a tale so wild, I at first didn’t believe it. He’d fallen in love with an elf, one of the servants at the House. She’d run away, back to Earth, and he’d followed. They’d had a child together, one of the rare half-Watcher children. He assured me they were safe, that he was being clever and careful, feeding false leads to the rest of the team that was searching for her and the missing elves. But even he knew the risk, and he made me vow, that if ever anything happened to him and his wife, that I would keep an eye on their son.”

He turns his face to Renjun. “Of course, as soon as I heard what happened to Renjun’s parents, to my dear brother and his wife, my first thought was to bring the poor child here. To raise him in the safety and secrecy of my island. But then I thought better of it; if I snuck him away, they would certainly come looking for him. Renjun was an anomaly to be studied, someone they were deeply curious about, and the High Watcher wasn’t likely to let someone like him so easily slip away. So I kept a close eye on him, as did the kin of his mother. I checked in through the years, and slowly, as I realized that he found the House not so much a home as a prison, I made myself known to him. I brought him here to see the life I could offer him away from the House of the Watchers.”

“I didn’t accept,” Renjun interrupts, turning his head from his substitute father. From his uncle, perhaps? “It’s nice here, of course. But at the time, I was like, fourteen. The House was a prison, and I hated it there, but I also knew that I liked being around the other elves. I liked that I could learn the secrets and the ways of the Watchers while also secretly learning elf magic during the hours I secreted away in the back of the kitchen. So despite the tempting invitation to come here, I knew that for the time being, I would be better off at the House.”

“But the invitation would never be revoked, I made that clear.” Your host says, “I developed a secret means of contact with him, to establish an emergency line, essentially, so if he were ever in great need, I would know, so that I could open the portal between the House and here, or so I could arrive to help him.”

“Mirrors,” Renjun grins at you. “He taught me the mirror magic. We can move through them, or we can see each other through them and communicate.”

The man nods. “I can teach you, too, if you’d like.”

You would. It would be nice to have two means of escape — teleportation or mirror magic.

Mark drums his fingers on the table. “You know, this is all nice, but I feel like we still —”

Your host holds up his hand, silencing Mark effectively. “I knew that protecting Renjun was the best I could do with what I’ve been given in this world and in the one you come from. Like I mentioned earlier, I created this safe little bubble of an island so I could protect the ones dear to me, and I’d missed my chance. I arrived too late, unable to protect anyone. Too many times in my long life have I developed relationships with my brothers, with mortal humans, mortal supernaturals, even with the immortals of Earth, and time and time again I have seen them wither, fading and passing from that world into whatever awaits them in the beyond. I have had many names given to me over the course of my life. Appearing to mortals, I have been an angel, a god, a monster, a man. I have been called Michael, the archangel. I have been Shangdi, Taevaisa, Bochica, Vishnu, Thoth, and many more. To some, I have been simply known as The Father. Renjun has known me as Ira, and you may call me that as well.”

Ira looks around at the four of you. Renjun picks slowly at his plate, WinWin is still digging into the meal, but Mark is looking right back at Ira, watching him closely.

“I still don’t understand why you cared enough to allow Renjun to bring us here,” Mark says. “Him, that makes sense. You know him, you care for him. But we’re strangers.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Ira says, smiling brightly still. “I built this place to protect those dear to me, and too many times I was too late to bring them here under my protection. I wasn’t about to let that happen again, not when my own daughter’s life was on the line.”

Every pair of eyes in the room snaps towards you.

Ira’s smile has faded for once, a serious expression on his face as he looks at you and says, “She’s my daughter. Of course I care.”

When Yuta and Ten had revealed to you that your real father was a Watcher, you had accepted that fact but only in a surface level type of way. You accepted it like a piece of history, something from long ago that was irrelevant to the present. You hadn’t thought too much about that man that your mother had once had a relationship with, the one who had contributed genetic material but nothing more. You had ceased to imagine him still existing.

Except now you’re in this moment and so is your father.

And all you have to say is this: “I didn’t know you were still alive.”

Mark laughs, but immediately clamps down on the sound.

Ira – your father – cocks his head to the side a bit as he watches you now. “As I said, I’ve been in hiding for several years. After they learned of the relationship between your mother and I, of the miracle that you are, my brothers at the House of the Watchers weren’t only looking for you, dear. I’ve been perfecting the safety of this island for a long time, but never have I spent more time and dedication on protecting this bubble of Purgatory since you were born. It belongs solely to me now, separate from the rest of this plane. They don’t even know I exist here, and that’s exactly how I wanted it so that someday I could bring you here to keep you safe from them.”

True safety. This is what Renjun had promised earlier when he said it was somewhere safer where the Watchers wouldn’t find you.

Thinking of that reminds you solely of the fact that this is yet another thing that Renjun likely knew of this whole time, that he’s neglected to tell you. And, additionally, your father could check in on a boy that was not a direct relative of his, but you were his daughter, and up until this moment you hadn’t even known that he was even alive. Not the slightest hint. Had he ever cared how you were?

Either Ira can read minds or he can just read your expression. His gentle smile returns. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’ve been Watching you your whole life. Keeping you safe when your mother couldn’t. She didn’t know that there was a slight loophole in all of the protections she laid over you, in those contracts and all that mess. She tried so hard to hide you, even from me, but I found my way around it. You were invisible to every supernatural being but her and me. I visited you a few times.”

“You did?”

He nods. “I can change my shape, disguise myself in a variety of ways.”

WinWin drapes his arm over your shoulders. “If you’ve been watching over her for her whole life, then why didn’t you step in when you realized she was in danger.”

“I wanted to, but I knew that doing so could harm her more than help her.” Ira leans his elbows against the table, staring down at the woodgrain for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is soft enough that a rumble of thunder from outside wipes away his first words, but he repeats them for you, “I was deeply upset to hear what happened to your mother, my dear. I planned to bring you and her both here, if at all possible, but she never wanted much to do with me. I wish that nothing of the sort had ever befallen her; that you had never had to know the pain of that loss. I knew that her protections on you would remain in place so long as you were innocent and oblivious to this life, so I left you alone. I still checked in on you, disguised as a bird or a cat, as I had when you were younger. For years, things were fine. You went about your human life. I kept you safe when I sensed danger.

“I didn’t sense those demons, however. They stole you right out of your life, and I couldn’t find you any longer, and I knew that the protections that your mother and I had placed over you had worn off.” He lifts his head, gaze flicking back and forth between you, Mark, and WinWin. “I paid Renjun a visit. If you ever made an appearance in the House, he needed to notify me. He came to me as soon as my brothers took those demons of yours into custody. He got word to me again when you showed up a few days ago with a vampire and a werewolf in tow. My ability to keep you from danger obviously vanished along with those other protections.”

You take Mark’s hand beneath the table. “None of them are a danger. Not Mark or WinWin, and not Yuta or Ten. They’re all that has kept me safe over these past few months.” You cover WinWin’s hand on your shoulder with your hand. “You haven’t ever actually been a part of my life, so how could you even begin to understand?”

Your father clears his throat. “I know I’ve been an absent father. I’ve never been a father before, so I’m not sure where to really start, but I’d like to start here. I want to understand, dear daughter. I’m offering you a Home, a safe-haven where I will show and tell you everything you wish to know. Your friends can stay here. Let this be your new home. Let me know you. I want to be a father who can make a good life for his daughter.”

Well, how can you argue with that?

“There’s only one problem with that.” You lean back in your seat, folding your arms across your chest. “My boyfriends are still trapped in their cells in the dungeons of the House of the Watchers, likely being sentenced to their deaths today if we don’t save them. The happiness of your daughter, Father, relies on their lives being protected.”

He nods slowly, looking into your eyes. “Is that all it takes?”

Yes. The survival of Yuta and Ten does affect your happiness. In fact, your happiness hinges on it almost exclusively.

Your father grins, straightening up from the table. He snaps his fingers. “That can be arranged, dear daughter. But you’ve had a busy morning of escape and other perils, there’s no reason we need to rush into anything right now. The comforts of my home await. Warm beds, and this breakfast as well.” He pushes away from the table, chair legs scraping against the floor, and he stands and leaves the room without another word.

“You dad is weird,” Mark mumbles.

WinWin makes a sound of agreement.

You look right at Renjun where he still sits in his seat, fidgeting a bit uncomfortably. He swallows when he meets your gaze. “Anything else you’re hiding from me, Renjun? I’m a little tired of the people around me lying to me about my own life. First, Yuta and Ten don’t tell me that they knew that I was a half-Watcher half-demon. Then I realize that you also knew, but didn’t tell me. And now I have to find out that you not only knew with certainty who I was from the first moment we met, but you also knew that my father was alive and that he could protect me? Could probably protect Yuta and Ten too?”

“Calm down,” WinWin says, curling his hand around your wrist.

Your fingertips are burning.

You curl your hand into a fist, extinguishing the flames against your palm, though your fingernails continue biting into the softness of your palm.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun apologizes with a sulky tone. “I couldn’t tell you! I didn’t know how you would react, and he wanted to tell you himself! None of this was the plan originally.”

“Well, what was the plan then?” Mark asks, twisting in his chair to look at Renjun beside him. “What exactly happened that you suddenly decided that we had to escape this morning? What did you find out?”

Renjun shrinks into his seat, curling his knees up towards his chest, and he lifts a hand up to nibble nervously at his nails. Mark reaches over, grabbing his wrist and dragging his fingers away from his teeth.

“Talk, Renjun.”

“I don’t really know. I was sneaking around the halls, keeping an ear out, watching the Watchers to make sure that none of them were coming for you guys, okay?” He keeps fidgeting. “I heard some of them talking about a security breach, that some ward somewhere in the House or on the grounds of the estate may have been triggered. They weren’t exactly sure what it meant either, but they knew that they were going to tighten the watch on you guys. And then one of them said something about how they definitely weren’t going to let any of you leave, even after the trial. Apparently there were plans in motion already to make it seem like Mark and WinWin had committed some crime, so they would be held for trial also. And, of course,” he says while looking right at you, “They were planning to make you a prisoner of the House too so they could learn more about you. Maybe they were planning to use you to lure Ira out of hiding too. I don’t really know.

“It just all sounded bad, and I knew if they were tightening security on the three of you, then there wasn’t going to be much of a chance to get you out of there at all. Already Ira and I had planned to get you out of there after the trial because we just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good, but with the way that those Watchers were talking, I didn’t feel like we could cut it that close. I couldn’t risk you staying through the trial and being actually imprisoned there with no chance of escape.”

Again, you can feel your flames tingling just beneath your skin.

You’re angry and upset and you want to burst into tears and flames at the same time. You’re not sure if it’s Renjun or the Watchers or Ira or maybe even your mother that you’re so angry with at this point. If your mother would have just been open and honest with you through your life, would any of this have happened? Maybe she would still be alive, but it was her secrets that killed her in the end, wasn’t it? Hiding you from all the people who wanted to get at you and your unknown powers.

“How are we going to know about the trial now, though?” Mark asks. “Or does Ira have some plan to burst into the House and stop it?”

Renjun shrugs, staring down at the table with wide eyes. “I don’t know what he’s planning.”

All you know is that if Ira doesn’t come to you with a plan within the next few hours, detailing to you exactly how he’s going to maintain your happiness by ensuring the survival of your boyfriends beyond today, you’re going back to the House yourself. You don’t know how you’re going to get there, or what exactly you’re going to do once you get back there. You don’t care if you have to go alone, though you have an inkling that there are at least two individuals in this house that won’t let you go back by yourself.

Breakfast continues. WinWin devours half of the food on the table. You pick at the food that you’ve put on your plate, in addition to the food that WinWin and Mark keep filling your plate with. In between bites, you glare at Renjun until he slinks out of the room.

You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself once your plates are cleared. Ira had told you to make yourself comfortable in his home, but how are you supposed to be able to relax without knowing what’s going on back at the House of the Watchers?

“Why don’t we look around outside?” Mark suggests. “I’m sure there’s more to see of the island than just that bit of beach and the stairs up here.”

You’re sure he’s right.

Still sitting at the table, WinWin winces silently in pain as he stretches his leg out in front of him. Mark just watches you, as if he’s worried that you’re going to explode into flame and go rocketing off into the sky, in search of the House of the Watchers on some distant horizon.

“Or we could go to bed,” WinWin suggests as he start to stand, but he sits heavily back into his seat with an exclaimed, “Fuck!” WinWin hisses, reaching down to roll up the leg of his pants. “What the hell is on those monsters’ teeth? Shit.” The injury to his leg looks even worse than it had in the shower. The bite on his calf and the claw marks are turning black and swollen. His ankle is also bruised to high hell.

“Maybe we should ask Ira if he knows what to do?” You push up from your seat. “WinWin, that looks serious. I don’t think you can brush it off as being just fine anymore. It’s definitely gotten worse.”

WinWin grimaces and nods, leaning back in his seat. “I’ll just stay right here. Please, go. Go search for Ira.”

The fact that he gives up so easily, that he closes his eyes and grits his teeth without making another attempt to stand or brush off your worries, well, it all worries you even more. He’s in pain, and you don’t know how to fix him.

You don’t have any clue where your host could have gone. He hasn’t made a sound since he left the kitchen, and now you don’t even know where Renjun disappeared to.

Mark follows behind you as you step out of the kitchen. The sitting room across the entry is empty, though there is a door out onto the wrap-around porch that is open, the gauzy curtains flutter in the breeze. Mark checks, but there’s no one out there either.

“Ira!” You call up the stairs. “Renjun?”

You’re slightly surprised when Renjun appears almost immediately, leaning over the railing of the next floor. “What?”

“Do you know where Ira went? I think WinWin needs medicine or something. His injuries from those monsters in the garden are getting worse.” You glance over towards the kitchen where you can still see WinWin sitting at the table. “Or do you happen to know a cure?”

Renjun shakes his head, lifting his arm almost absentmindedly to cross his chest and brush his fingers over the bite mark you remember was left on his shoulder. “I think it’s something to do with their venom. Mine hasn’t healed up yet either, despite Mark’s blood.”

Mark hisses behind you as Renjun pulls aside the collar of his shirt to reveal a bite mark that is similarly black and swollen.

“Yeah, I’d say both of you need some fucking medical attention. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can smell those wounds all the way from here. Rancid.”

You spin on Mark, immediately reaching for his shirt, tugging at the collar.

“Excuse me!” Mark laughs, grabbing your wrists, wrestling a little with you. “What are you doing?”

“They didn’t get you anywhere, right?” You try to get a peek beneath his shirt as if you hadn’t just seen him entirely nude half an hour ago, free of any bitemarks from the monsters. “Mark, you’re not hurt too, are you?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Stop freaking out. I’m–.” He cuts himself off before he can say the word fine, a small smile quirking the corners of his lips up. “I’m not hurt, baby.” Mark looks up at Renjun again. “Do you know where Ira went?”

Renjun pulls his shirt back over the wound. “He’s probably in his study. Up here.”

You climb the stairs, Mark as close as your shadow. Renjun’s already walking around the circular landing toward the closed doors. He only pauses for a moment to knock on the doors before he turns the handle and pushes one door open. Inside is a small entryway before another set of closed double doors, but Renjun doesn’t walk towards those doors, instead he leads the way to a set of stairs to the side of the doors. The stairs rise up, curving gently with the curvature of the lighthouse tower’s walls.

“Ira?” Renjun calls as he climbs.

You hang back a few feet. Mark’s fingertips rest against your lower back as you tread up the narrow stairs.

You can smell once again the scent that you first caught in the sitting room. Whatever it is that burns and gives off the feel of static. Some sort of magic. There’s a muted buzzing and drone of a voice – or possibly even multiple voices – up above your head. You watch Renjun’s feet as he walks around the curve of the stairs, vanishing from sight as he reaches the top of the stairs, this area that must be Ira’s study.

You feel like a bubble pops across your skin, and suddenly you can hear once more. Ira’s voice and Renjun’s. Peculiar light fills your vision as you and Mark finally ascend the last few stairs into the study, and you see where the source of the light comes from. All of the windows around the room are like those at the House; each window has a different view to somewhere else out there in the world, some sunny, some just as overcast as the true sky outside this lighthouse. The stairs continue again on the other side of the room, rising up to the room at the top of the lighthouse, but your focus is drawn to the center of the room, to Ira standing at a desk covered with piles of papers.

Renjun’s standing close to him, speaking in a lowered voice, his shirt collar pulled to the side again. Ira’s prodding at the wound with his fingertips, examining the injury so intently that he barely spares a glance for you and Mark.

“Foul beasts,” Ira mutters, shaking his head as Renjun moans in pain. “We should have banished them to hell eons ago. They attack more brothers and servants than intruders. It’s an easy enough cure.” He finally looks up to you and Mark. “Where is the other boy?”

You stand as tall as you can, chin tilted, your eyes sharp as you address your father. “His name is WinWin. Not boy.”

“WinWin isn’t much of a name either.” He steps away from Renjun, brushing his hands off on his pants. “Well, where is he?”

“In the kitchen. His injuries are more intense than Renjun’s. He can’t stand anymore.” You stare at him, looking at his face, surprised to find that now that you know the truth you can see some of your own features reflected on his face. You had always thought that you looked a lot like your mother, but that was possibly only because your dad hadn’t truly been your father; he’d held no physical similarities to you, so now faced with the man who you actually share them with, it’s staring you right in the face.

Ira nods. “Good. I must put together the cure in the kitchen anyway. It’s better he’s already there. Come along, children.”

You bristle a bit at that, and even more as he brushes by you, hurrying down the steps. Mark presses himself against the wall to avoid Ira knocking into him. Renjun grimaces, tugging his shirt back over his shoulder, keeping his hand there as if the weight of his hand against the bite makes any difference. He moves slowly back towards you at the top of the stairs.

“I am sorry,” he says earnestly. “About not telling you about Ira. About any of it. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell you the truth about your parents. Especially since I knew how much Ira wanted to be the one to tell you he was your father. It would’ve been weird to hear from me, right?”

You look at him, at this half-elven young man. His eyes gleam silver as he looks at you right now, shifting quickly to brown when he hisses in pain, pulling his hand away from his shoulder. You’ve trusted him since the moment you met him, and even with him withholding the truth of your parentage from you, you still trust him entirely. And, if everything they’ve told you is true now, then Renjun stands as one of the only relatives you’ve got left in the world – all the realms that it encompasses.

Renjun starts to walk past you to the stairs, which Mark has already begun to descend ahead of him. You quickly fall in step behind Renjun to say, “So, you’re like my cousin, right? If your father is my father’s brother?”

That makes Renjun stumble a little, but he glances back at you. “Yeah, something like that. I – I didn’t even think of that.” He laughs a little then says, “It’s been a long time since I’ve actually had any family. I guess I never really considered that Ira is kinda my uncle. My mother was an only child, so I don’t have any relatives left among the elves. But, yeah, I guess you’re my cousin. And we’re both some of the most rare half-breeds the Watchers have ever known.” He laughs again, a little louder as the pair of you reach the bottom of the stairs, exiting out onto the landing.

Ira is already down in the kitchen, examining WinWin’s leg. His pants leg is torn up to his upper thigh, and you can see now that it’s not only his wound that is black and swollen, not just his ankle that’s bruised. Veins and poisoned blood climb his leg, little dark lightning bolts buried in his skin, reaching all the way up to his thigh. WinWin is panting, his eyes flickering back and forth between human brown and wolf yellow.

“Shit.” Renjun walks into the room, collapsing down into the chair opposite WinWin. “Mine doesn’t look that bad.”

Ira shakes his head, murmuring something quietly over WinWin’s leg. You feel that burst of static, a faint scent of something unidentifiable on the air. A faint glow coats WinWin’s leg from his toes up to his hip. Ira straightens, rising to his feet. “That should stabilize him while I put together the cure. I would assume that drinking the vampire’s blood, Renjun, is what has helped slow the venom in your system.”

You move over to sit beside WinWin, touching your hand to his forehead. He’s glistening with sweat, fire-hot to the touch. He sighs when you lay your fingers to his skin, and when Mark comes over to lay his cool palm against WinWin’s heated skin, WinWin actually whimpers. “That feels so nice,” he says, leaning into Mark. “I feel like I’m on fire. And not in the good way.” His feverish gaze flicks up to yours, and there’s the ghost of a smile.

With a light pat to his cheek, you say, “You must not be feeling too bad if your mind can go there right now.” You’d tried your best to contain your flames when you were with WinWin during his rut, and especially during the activities of yesterday since you didn’t want to endanger Mark. But there had been a time or two when you’d gone awash in flame during his rut, particularly once Yuta had joined in. He knew the heat of your flames, and if he wanted to consider feeling them the good kind of way, then that was his right.

Ira stands at the fireplace, and it takes you a moment to realize that there’s a cauldron boiling there over the flames, and that your father is summoning things into his hands from the open door of the pantry you hadn’t previously noticed. He tosses ingredients into the pot, murmuring more words that make the hair on your arms and the back of your neck stand on end, that fill the air with that odd scent. You’re familiar with the sulphuric smell of demon magic, but this Watcher magic Ira’s practicing is like nothing you’d smelled before.

WinWin takes your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He squeezes your fingers with a grunt of pain. “It still hurts.”

Mark says something in a tongue you don’t know, and WinWin glares up at him. Whatever he’s just said, clearly it’s a language they both know, but neither of them decide to translate it for anyone else in the room.

The glow on his leg pulses and throbs. Renjun grunts on the other side of the table as well.

“Ira–” You say sharply as you take a look down at WinWin’s leg. A fresh tendril of darkness unfurls above WinWin’s knee, crawling upwards slowly. “I thought you said your spell was supposed to stabilize him. Why is it spreading again already?”

The Watcher at the fireplace spins around, striding over to you quickly. Mark puts both of his hands on WinWin’s face as new beads of sweat spring to WinWin’s forehead, attempting to cool him down even a little bit. Ira crouches down once more holding his hands above WinWin’s leg, murmuring and casting a new layer of glowing light over the first.

The cauldron in the fireplace bubbles and boils, giving off an herbal, medicinal aroma. As part of the mixture splashes over the side into the flames below, Ira stands once more to return to it, still adding in ingredients. He glances back over his shoulder to find you watching.

“Daughter, can you do me a favor?” His hair, so neat earlier, now flutters around his face, though bits of it stick to his forehead as he sweats before the fire. “There’s one ingredient I need that I appear to not have in stock. I need you to go out the back door,” he points over to the corner beside the pantry, to a door that leads outside. “Head down the stairs at the cliff’s edge, and in the cove ask the sea for three strands of sea silk.”

“What?” You frown. He wants you to leave WinWin right now? WinWin clutches your hand tighter.

Ira sighs. “I don’t have time to repeat myself. Ask the sea for three strands of sea silk. Go.”

“Go,” Mark repeats your father’s command. “I’ll stay right here. I’ll make sure WinWin’s fever stays down. Go.”

You feel a wave of panic as you hurry to the door Ira indicated. You throw it open and step out onto the windy face of the island. The tall grass back here ripples and waves like the sea below, but you run through it, facing the fine misting rain that falls. The ground here slopes towards the sea, but you find that it too ends in a cliff, and after a moment’s searching, you find a set of stairs here that leads downwards.

This set of stairs isn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d had to climb just earlier this morning, but it also doesn’t have a railing, the steps are cut naturally into the cliff’s face, slick from the rain, forcing you to slow somewhat. You descend as quickly as you can into the cove below. Another pebbly shore awaits you, boulders jutting out of the water, and the cliff curves in a crescent around this small inlet, protecting it from the vast stormy sea outside the safety of the natural barrier.

As your feet at last meet the shifting pebbles, you stumble towards the sea’s edge where foaming waves roll onto shore, washing between the small stones. Moss and slime coat the beach here, the occasional seashell, bones of small sea creatures and half-rotted logs. This part of the island isn’t nearly as charming as the lighthouse above, but you face the unpleasantness as you wade into the water, making it only a few feet out before you trip over something beneath the surface, and you fall to your knees. The water rises to your chest, lapping against your chin as the waves pass.

You feel a little bit foolish as you close your eyes, bowing your head over the foaming seawater, asking, “I require three strands of sea silk. Please.” Is that how you’re supposed to phrase it? You’ve never had to ask the sea for anything before. How polite are you supposed to sound? Is there a particular way you’re meant to address the sea? Again, you repeat, “Ira sent me for three strands of sea silk.”

The wind whistles around the cove, echoing in a strange way that hauntingly sounds like laughter, and as it picks up, blowing your hair back over your shoulders, it almost sounds like a song.

You open your eyes, looking out to the sea visible through the arms of the cliff surrounding this cove. In the distance you see something splash in the water, something dark and big. You send a prayer to whoever may be listening that there aren’t hungry sharks in this sea of Purgatory.

A wave rolls past you, pushing at your shoulders, and nearly tipping you backwards in the water. You shift, trying to find your feet, but the pebbles beneath the water roll and sink around your feet, closing in, making it nearly impossible to find your footing. You look up again, trying to spot where the dark splashing animal might be, and to your horror you see a flicker of a fin sharply cutting through the water.

You gasp, trying to reach beneath the water without submerging your face, trying to dig the pebbles away from where they keep sinking in, swallowing your feet.

Another wave rolls by you, pushing at your shoulders. The wind whistles eerily again. Seawater splashes you in the face, and as you splutter, blinking to get the saltwater out of your stinging eyes, you hear another splash.

You open your eyes, braving the sting.

A face floats in the water, just beneath the surface. Dark eyes watch you, sharp teeth appearing as the face’s lips spread in a predatory smile.

“Oh, Minnie, leave her alone!” A chiming voice sings from the shore behind you.

You don’t dare to take your eyes off the face in the water, even as she emerges. Her eyes shimmer, her shockingly pale hair clinging to her cheeks and shoulders as she stands in the water, looking behind you. “You ruin all my fun, unnie. We never get visitors anymore, and I just want to play.”

The girl – because that’s what she is – swims around you, and you see the dark flick of a finned tail, navy scales blending almost seamlessly into the dark water of the cove. She passes by you, making for the shore.

At last you turn around.

A woman is lounging on the beach behind you, propped up on one of the boulders close to the cliff’s base. Unlike the girl who has just scared the shit out of you, this woman doesn’t have a tail, though her two legs do appear to have a red scale pattern that fades the longer you look at her. Her long black hair falls straight over her shoulders, clinging to her chest. Her lips are bloodred, eyes sharp, and when she lifts a hand to point at the other girl, you see her nails are talon-sharp and dark red to match her lips.

“Minnie, she’s asking for our help. She says Ira sent her, so don’t be a bitch.” A crown of seashells sits on top of her head.

The navy-tailed Minnie pulls herself from the water, dragging herself over the pebbles, and as soon as the edge of her tailfin is clear of the water, she immediately begins to transform. Her fin becomes feet, her tail splitting into legs, and she rises on sure legs to approach the boulder where the other waits for her. Part of you feels you should look away from her nudity, because neither of them has a lick of clothing on them, but watching as her tail fully transforms into two legs, covered in navy scales that fade until her legs – and those of the other woman — only possess the faint sheen of a scale pattern on otherwise tanned skin.

“Seulgi, you’re just no fun.” Minnie says as she joins the other on the boulder, perching herself right on the edge of it so they can look at you. Her heavy-lidded eyes blink down at you, and then she cocks her head to the side with a smirk. “Well, aren’t you going to come out of the water too?”

As soon as she says it, you realize that the pebbles are sliding away from your legs, that you can move them again, that you can rise to your feet.

Just as you do that, you feel the water shift behind you again, and you don’t even have to look to know that another one of them has just emerged from the water behind you. You put yourself firmly on shore before you dare to look back over your shoulder. Another woman, pale and beautiful, with small sea stars adorning her hair, the color of which is bright as autumn leaves as it falls in gentle waves down to her hips. She follows you out of the sea. Iridescent scales that seem to change color with every move slowly fade from her skin as she makes for the other two women.

“We heard your request, girl,” this third addition says. “A request from Ira, you say?” She slides onto the same boulder as the other two, fitting herself alongside the red-scaled Seulgi. She glances at the other two. “What do you think this means?”

Minnie sighs, rolling her head back on her shoulders. “How should we know, Sunmi?”

The orange-haired one, Sunmi, you suppose, rolls her eyes at Minnie. “This means, dear sister, that Ira’s daughter has finally come to visit.”

Minnie gasps, whipping her head around to look at you. Seulgi just gives you a long, sweeping look, as if trying to see if Sunmi’s words could be true, as if comparing you to your father up on the cliff. Sunmi smiles warmly at you, definitely the warmest of the three sitting before you.

“We’ve known Ira for a long time, girl,” Sunmi says. “He brought us here from Earth for safety when the sailors of the world decided to hunt my sisters and I for sport. They were tired of our games and songs, didn’t like how we sang them into the sea with us.” Minnie smiles her sharp-toothed smile. “Ira’s one of the good ones, where some of his brothers would have speared us through with a lightning bolt and offered our burnt corpses up to the sailors. We like your father. Liked your mother too when we caught glimpses of her. He’s been so excited about you since you were born, you know.”

Seulgi grins at that. “Even more excited over the last few months, thinking that maybe you’d come visit soon.”

“And especially this last week or so,” Minnie chimes in. “I heard that cute elf is up there too.” She looks longingly up at the cliff, tilting her nose into the wind, inhaling. “Did you bring anyone else fun with you, girl?” Her eyes shimmer darkly when she lowers her gaze to you.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Ira sent me to fetch three strands of sea silk. Can you help me with that?”

Seulgi twirls a section of hair around her finger. “And what do we get for helping you, little one? We won’t do it for free.”

There’s a pang in your chest, a dash of panic. WinWin is up there, the venom of the Watchers’ monsters eating through him. Renjun too. You don’t have time for the games of these sirens.

“You get Ira’s thanks.” You quickly say, wondering how many minutes you’ve been gone, how much further the venom has spread in WinWin.

Minnie’s sharp teeth flash again. “That’s not enough. I want the pretty elf boy. He was so charming when he first came to visit Ira. All silver and smiles.” She runs her fingers through her pale blonde hair, braiding it in sections so quickly you can barely follow her movements. You’re tempted to spit out that she would be helping her pretty elf boy if she would just help you find three sea silk strands.

Sunmi stands on the rock, stepping down from the boulder into the pebbles. “Stop teasing her, you two. Can’t you see that look in her eyes. You’re going to scare Ira’s daughter off and then he’ll be very irate with us.” She twists her hair around, draping it all over one shoulder, but it’s so long and thick that it manages to still cover her up almost modestly. “We’ll help you, child.”

You startle a bit when the siren approaches you, holding her hand out. You don’t understand for a moment what Sunmi is doing, until the wind blows around the cove again, whistling peculiarly, and something thin and dark flutters between Sunmi’s fingers.

A single strand of long, long, long fiery hair.

“A strand of sea silk, better known as siren hair.” Sunmi takes your hand with her free hand, coiling the strand of her hair into your palm. “We don’t give these out willy-nilly, but for Ira…. I don’t know what spell he needs it for, but I assume if he’s just gotten you back and sent you down here to deal with those two–” She flicks a quick look over her shoulder at her sisters. “--Well, he must be in dire need. Good luck to him. Good luck to you, too, child.”

Seulgi appears a second later, wrapping herself around Sunmi to drop a long straight black hair into your palm too. You quickly pinch it between your fingers before it can flutter away in the breeze. She tucks her chin over Sunmi’s shoulder, watching you with her sharp gaze. “If you’re going to be here for a wild, little one, you’re welcome to come down to the cove anytime. We do so miss playing with others. Bring your friends, if you like.”

She takes Sunmi’s hand, twirling around you, dragging the other siren with her as they dash into the waves and plunge beneath the dark surface, vanishing with a flick of a fin each. And that leaves Minnie.

She stretches out on that boulder as if she’s sunning herself despite the fact that the clouds overhead appear even more dense than before. Her pale hair fans out around her on the rock, exposing herself to the sky and the cliffs and the sea. And you. She smiles with all her teeth, and you’re not sure if she means it to be inviting or threatening, either way, you keep a little bit of distance.

“Oh, come now, girl.” She rolls her eyes and holds a hand up. You can see the pale silken strand of hair fluttering from between her thumb and forefinger, rippling in the breeze off the sea. “If my sisters gave you a strand each, of course I’ll give you one too. I can’t have them outdoing me. And besides,” she sits up quick as a flash, her dark eyes narrowing, as she says, “I want you to put a good word in for me with the elf boy.”

Somehow you don’t think she’s Renjun’s type. Not that you really know what his type is, but it’s probably not the kind of woman who looks like she would just as soon eat him as kiss him. You quickly take the strand of hair from her, squeezing it into your palm with the other two.

“Thank you.” You glance over her once before you remember that you’re wasting time down here, and you walk for the steps cut into the cliff’s face. Behind you she sighs, flopping back across the boulder, humming into the wind in a way that echoes around the cove, sweeping across the water. You’re a few steps up when you think of something, and you lean over the edge, looking down at her on the rock. “Minnie?”

Her eyes flash open. “Yes?”

“Did you three really meet my mother?” You ask, clutching those three strands of hair to your chest. Your heart aches, wondering when and why and where these sirens saw your mother.

She once more shows you all her jagged teeth. “Demons and water don’t often mix, but when Ira was attempting to woo your mother, he brought her on a boat to sail the seas of Earth, Purgatory, to glimpse the gates of Heaven among the stars. Your father can be quite the romantic when he tries. Usually we’re the ones seducing men, but when my sisters and I watched from the water as your father wooed your mother, we were the ones seduced. Your mother was a more difficult prize to win than we were though.” Minnie laughs. “She was brave and strong, fierce enough that if she hadn’t been born a demon, I’d have loved to have seen her as a siren.”

Minnie laughs and begins humming again, the sound following you as you climb the rest of the stairs. As soon as you reach the waving grass at the top of the cliff, you run towards the house once again. You don’t move your hand from where it’s clenched into a fist over your heart, even as you stumble up the back steps, as you throw open the door into the kitchen again, you don’t for a moment loosen your tight hold on those three silken strands from the sirens.

You pause as you burst through the door.

WinWin is spread out on the table now, the leg of his pants entirely torn off as you look at the swollen, darkened mass of his leg. Mark sits on his chest, hands on his face, pinning WinWin to the table as he bucks up, jolting and groaning, crying out from the pain. Renjun sits still in the seat where you left him, the shirt he’s wearing torn open to expose his shoulder and the vicious, ugly dark zigzags of venom stretching from his shoulder towards his heart. His pupils are wide, the silver iris of one eye nearly blending into the white, while the dark brown of his other eye makes that eye look almost entirely dark.

Ira is still sweating and muttering over the cauldron.

His voice saying your name is the only thing that snaps you out of your daze. He holds out a hand, beckoning to you.

“Here,” you say, hurrying towards him. “The strands from the sirens.”

You pass the orange, blonde, and black hairs to your father. He barely glances at them before they’re tossed into the boiling mixture. He doesn’t take his eyes off of it as he stirs with a long stick. From the corner of his mouth he asks, “They didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”

“Minnie scared the shit out of me. Seulgi and Sunmi are nice though. They were all excited to see me.” You turn to look again at the table. “How much longer until the cure is ready?”

WinWin’s whole body jolts, nearly knocking Mark off of him. His head tips off the edge of the table, and you realize that you can only see the whites of his eyes.

“Ira?” You twist back around to your father. He’s muttering again, and the boiling surface of the cauldron begins to take on a luminescence, a sweet smell rising to blend with his particular scent of magic.

“Fuck!” Mark cries as WinWin’s entire body jumps, this time dislodging Mark onto the floor.

You look around just in time to see WinWin turn over and vomit black onto Ira’s nice kitchen floor.

Mark sits frozen on the floor, staring in horror.

Ira pushes you out of the way, the blazing cauldron held in his hands as he moves towards the table. The first thing he does is drop the cauldron in the chair he’d occupied during breakfast. The second, he flips WinWin fully onto his stomach, pounding a hand against his back while WinWin continues making these horrible retching, choking noises. Third, he looks over at Renjun.

“Get a cup, boy. Drink up.”

Renjun immediately takes one of the cups that had been knocked onto the floor at some point during one of WinWin’s convulsions.

You stand, rooted to the spot, watching as Renjun plunges the cup into Ira’s concoction. Renjun downs it in one go, like the strangest shot you’ve ever seen. He dips the cup into the cure again, passing it over to Ira. “Give it to him,” Renjun says, “Before it’s too late.”

Ira pounds his hand on WinWin’s back again, before turning him over.

You cover your hands with your mouth, sinking down into a crouch, unable to watch as Ira pours the cure into WinWin’s mouth. You hear the sound of a hand hitting flesh, the sound of WinWin attempting to cough, choking on the cure. A quick peek reveals your father with his hand covering WinWin’s mouth, pinching his nose, forcing him to swallow it.

“Pour some on his leg too,” Ira says to no one in particular. Renjun dips the cup once more into the potion, and you watch as he walks down the table, dumping the contents of the cup along the length of WinWin’s leg. “Put some on your shoulder too, just in case.”

Renjun doesn’t even bother with the cup now. Removed from the heat of the fireplace, the concoction in the cauldron is already congealing – more paste than liquid now – so Renjun dips his hand in, smearing it over the bite mark and the jagged lines of spreading venom which already look to be receding.

WinWin gasps as Ira removes his hand from his mouth, and you jump to your feet, throwing yourself over to his side. Mark gets to his feet as well, pressing his shoulder against yours as you both lean over WinWin. His eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. A black streak from the vomit is dried on his cheek, smeared a bit on his lips.

“Look,” Mark says softly, and he points to WinWin’s leg.

Beneath the spread of the cure-paste across his leg, you can see the lines of venom fading from his skin. There are still scratches and bites, but they even look better, half-healed almost. You wonder if they’re going to leave scars. The worst bite is at his calf where it looks like that beast he fought nearly tore the calf muscle entirely away. But you see now that even that is somewhat knitted back together, scabbing beneath the paste.

Renjun sighs, slumping down into his seat, lifting his hand to his shoulder which is once more smooth, pale skin. “Lucky you’ve got sirens for neighbors, then, Ira.”

Ira grins, lifting the cauldron from the seat to carry it over to the countertop beside the fireplace where he’s already manifested a row of containers. You watch as he begins dividing the cure-paste into the containers, and when he catches you looking, he explains, “I figure I might as well save it. Who knows when or if we’ll need it again. Your boy might need more doses, judging by the bad looks of some of those bites. Lucky he survived the monster that attacked him. Not many do escape the beasts of Purgatory.”

“Lucky?” WinWin coughs, cracking open an eye and craning his head to try and see your father. “Not feeling too lucky right now.”

You make a sound somewhere in the realm between a yelp and a cry of joy. You throw yourself on top of WinWin, wrapping your arms around him, burning your face into his neck even as he hugs you bone-crushingly tight and tucks his face into your hair. “So lucky. I was scared you were going to die.”

“You’re the lucky one, princess. Lucky I fucking love you so much,” WinWin groans into your hair. “I’ve almost died like three times just since waking up this morning. Don’t let go.” He squeezes tighter as if you were at all planning on letting go.

He groans when you press your hand to his belly, when you pinch at his barely healed, exposed thigh. “I didn’t ask you to almost die. Remember in the shower when you tried telling us that you were fine? This is exactly why I’m banning that word from our lexicon. You almost died, dumbass, you weren’t fine.” You lift your head to look down at him. WinWin grins.

You want to kiss that smug look right off his face. You would kiss him if it weren’t for the way that his breath definitely smelled like a horrible mix between vomit and the contents of the cure.

“Lovely as this is, daughter, I do have news.” Ira returns to sit in the seat at the head of the table. He folds his hands over his stomach. “Good news, bad news. A plan to go along with both. What would you like to hear?”

That makes you sit up, pulling WinWin up with you. Mark steps up, wrapping an arm around WinWin’s waist, helping pull him from the table into a chair while you stand there and stare at your father. He had news already? Good news and bad news?

“I still have contacts at the House,” he explains. “Naturally, with your concerns and with your happiness being based on the survival of your demons, I needed to connect with my resources there. I needed to inquire about what was happening in the wake of your departure, and with your demons’ trial. So, which would you like first? The good or the bad?”

WinWin groans as Mark gets him settled into a seat. You collapse into the one closest to your father, across from Renjun who is staring pale-faced at your father. WinWin reaches over to hold your hand, and you feel Mark’s presence as he stands firmly behind your chair. All four men in the room wait for you to speak, to make a decision.

Your stomach twists in tight knots. He says he has bad news, and you can’t even begin to imagine – you don’t want to imagine what horrors that bad news might contain, though your mind is only too ready to supply you with possible scenarios. As for good news, you truly can’t even imagine what good news he could possibly have. You absolutely can’t let your mind go there, can’t afford to hope only to have it taken away by the bad news. Which do you want first? Disappointment? Hope?

“Bad news. I want to hear the bad.” You figure it’s better to get it over with first, right?

Ira nods. Mark’s hands tighten on the back of your chair until the wood creaks under his touch. WinWin holds your fingers, his grip safe and warm, comforting.

“I suppose I should rephrase my question,” Ira says. “There’s news, more news, and some news that is both good and bad news.”

Your belly feels like it’s full of molten fire, ready to eat its way out of you at any second now. Can’t he just speak? Can’t he just say what he means instead of torturing you this way?

“Ira.” Mark growls. “Just tell us.”

The Watcher nods, holding your gaze as he says, “So, the trial for your demons has been canceled.”

Your heart plummets into that molten lava pool that was formerly your stomach. Canceled? Did the High Watcher decide that without you there to attend he would just find them automatically guilty even without the trial? You’ve known all along of course that he wasn’t likely to come to a verdict of not-guilty, but you thought he would at least give them the show of a trial. Some semblance of a justice system. Or maybe the High Watcher was doing this just to punish you, sending them right into the abyss to punish you for escaping.

“Don’t look like that, my dear,” your father says, leaning forward with a hand extending across the table to you. You just look at it, making no move to accept his offered hand, but he doesn’t bother withdrawing it. “That was just news. Neither good or bad, really.” It feels bad, but you keep that thought to yourself, awaiting his next words. “The trial was canceled because it seems that Renjun was right to get you out of there last night. It was a night, or well, I suppose it was morning actually, for people to go missing from right under the nose of the High Watcher. It seems, my dear, that your sneaky demons also somehow escaped last night.”

Your heart is consumed in the fire of your belly.

WinWin yelps a little as your flames burst from your skin, burning at his hand around yours. Mark springs back as well.

Your father grins, his eyes reflecting your flames.

“They escaped?” You say, your voice half-swallowed by the crackling of your flames. “What do you mean they escaped?”

Ira laughs. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I’ve never seen anyone break out of those cells down there. I truly didn’t think it was possible. Apparently, after my brothers realized that you three were escaping, accompanied by Renjun, the High Watcher felt it might be prudent to check on his prisoners. My sources say that the brothers who descended into the dungeon discovered the cells of the two demons were empty, the bars torn open and melted. There were no further signs of them. There’s no way they could have escaped out the front door of the dungeon, and there is no back door. They searched down into the very depths of the dungeon to see if they’d for some reason decided to hide deep in the bowels of the place, but... nothing!”

Your heart, it feels like it’s eating itself alive.

Ten and Yuta.

They escaped.

Renjun nods. “That must be what the Watchers I overheard were talking about, they just didn’t know it yet. Someone tripped alarms somewhere. Maybe that was them, maybe it was Ten and Yuta. Or whoever broke them out. There’s no way they could have done it alone. Being inside the cells nullifies powers, so they wouldn’t have had the strength to tear the bars apart or the ability to summon any amount of fire, definitely not a fire hot enough to melt those bars.” Renjun shakes his head, “So someone must have broken them out, but who?”

You turn from him to look again at Ira. He’s grinning, a mad gleam in his eye.

“Here’s the final news, daughter. The news both good and bad.”

Your skin goes cold, and you realize that your flames have faded again, that now Mark has his hands on your shoulders, and that WinWin is holding your hand again. Your entire body is tense, waiting for your father’s next words.

“I know who broke them out. I know exactly where your demons are, sweet child.”

“Spit it out!” You hiss, leaning forward as he just smiles, drawing out your anticipation. Steam rises from your skin, especially from where Mark’s icy hands rest on your boiling skin. “Tell me!”

“They’re right where they belong,” Ira says, eyes flickering around the room to touch on each of you. “Their Queen of the Night came for them, and she has taken them as her prisoners back to Hell.”

The fire that bursts forth from you right then is intense enough to send Mark speeding out the back door of the house for cover. WinWin ducks beneath the table, swearing, Renjun doing the same. Your father sits there, watching you blaze and rage, your fury at them being taken prisoner all over again by that damn Queen that you know they were tired of serving. But there’s relief and happiness mixed into all of that too. Relief that they’re alive, that they’re not facing the trial of the Watchers that would have undoubtedly resulted in them being lost into the abyss. There’s happiness because they’re alive! Even if they’re back in Hell, imprisoned by their Queen, they’re alive!

He watches and he waits for you to calm down, he waits for the flames to dull from bright blue and white fury to a glow of red and orange settling over your skin before it simmers and fades to smoke lingering in the air. Renjun and WinWin emerge from beneath the table, the surface of which is seared and scorched. Mark peers in around the doorframe, checking to make sure your inferno has actually calmed before he re-enters, giving you a wide berth as you’re still giving off quite a lot of heat. He edges around to the other side of the table, leaning back against the wall across from you, near the windows just in case he might need to make another sudden escape.

“Now,” your father says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Do you want to hear my plan?”

Steam spirals from your nose. “What?”

He grins. “You, my daughter, are half your mother and half me. Individually, we were powerful beyond comparison. Our powers together, in you, is something I have been dreaming of for a long time, the feats you can accomplish. The Queen of the Night is powerful and strong, but with a bit of training, setting you against her, she wouldn’t be able to hold you back. We can get your demons back, my dear, if you will let me teach you how.”

You don’t even have to consider it. Of course you will let Ira teach you. You want to know everything he has to teach you because if you’re going to get Yuta and Ten back, if you want to be reunited with them, you will do whatever it takes. You’d dreamt about them just that morning – though now you have your suspicions that that dream had somehow been reality, a last visit of theirs before they fully broke out of the House – and they’d told you to find them, Yuta’s promise that you would all come back to each other.

“Teach me everything,” you tell Ira, determination painting your voice in bold strokes.

You’re going to save Yuta and Ten, and anyone that stands in your way is going to burn.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: so a lot happened in this chapter! They escaped to safety without Renjun betraying them (he’s so trustworthy, guys! WinWin just has trust issues), and he brought them to the one person in the universe who has always wanted the best for Y/N: her dad, which I feel like no one has hardly mentioned at all. And then, of course, there’s that biggest bombshell that I’ve dropped there at the end -- they’re not facing trial anymore, they’re alive, they’re in Hell as prisoners again.

I may take a short break from posting Unholy after this chapter. Not a really long break, I promise! Just long enough to get my feet under me a bit as I work on the plot for the rest of Unholy, because as of right now, I don’t really know what happens next. Originally when I wrote this and “finished” it in December 2022, this chapter is where the story ended, though there were a few things that were a little bit different. So now I need to figure out what comes next, I need to write it, and I need to take a little time to work on a few other projects possibly that I’ve had brewing for a while.

So, as always, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and the entirety of Unholy so far. I hope that you’ll continue to stick around until I post the next installment of this series, and continue to show it as much love as you all have shown this first part of the series. Thank you so so so so much! This story has grown a whole lot from where it started when it was originally just supposed to be a kinktober monster-fucking drabble, but instead has become, to this point, around 197,000 words long, putting it around 60k under the word count of the poly series which took me almost 3 full years to write

Anyway, likes, comments, reblogs, sharing it with your friends/followers is forever and always appreciated and keeps me inspired to keep going! Thank you for reading!!

#nct fics #nct smut #mark smut #mark lee fics #winwin fics #winwin smut #unholy

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