[completed - under editing]
[last chapter edited - 8 | setting a trap for yourself]
"You're told all your life that you're broken, insane, mentally ill. And then you're told that you are going to repair the world."
᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽᯽
Thirteen...
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Aquaria
I hear an angry stream of hisses somewhere near me. I at first don't recognize where it's coming from, until I realize; it's me. I'm the one hissing. I shut my mouth as fast as I can.
"What do we do?" Caprice grabs Taurus's sleeve dramatically as if she's about to swoon. I would not be surprised if she did swoon. She is 'ladylike' enough to do so. Taurus doesn't seem to mind all that much.
"I–I don't know," Nia says in a sobbing, pitiful voice. I realize she's copying Caprice and it's hard to stop the smirk that threatens to show.
"We have to teleport," Ari steps in with an authoritative declaration. He steals a glance at Caprice, who doesn't object because she's too busy trying to faint.
"I told you, we can't!" Miasma interjects in a frustrated voice, curling her fingers into a fist.
"But what we can do is die here, apparently!" snaps Leo sarcastically. Miasma angrily makes a strangled noise.
"Fine! But I'm warning you, we won't end up in Galaxus!"
I reach out and grip Pisces's wrist; he's holding on to Leilani's elbow reluctantly. And then, crack. But, nothing happens. I hear a dim thundering noise somewhere far away and then it fades quickly.
Three horsemen ride towards us. But they aren't normal horsemen. The steeds are onyx–black with red eyes, only equipped with reins and a bridle; the horsemen are riding bareback. The horsemen are clad in long, flowing black cloaks that whisper along the ground. I can't see their faces, which are hidden by hoods. I can see the scythes each carry, the shining crescent blades mounted on tall obsidian-black staffs capturing my attention.
"What are they?" Vienna's tone is high–pitched, and I strain to hear the sound of Leo snickering, but he's deathly silent. Which is a first.
"The Deathbringers, Death's Knights, whatever you want to call them," Miasma whispers, "They're ... they're not Corrupted, they're Higher Graveborn that have survived the infection with corrupted magic. No conscience, no empathy, no soul ... basically these three," she nods over her shoulder at me and my sisters.
The attempt to inflect humor into the conversation definitely isn't working.
As they draw closer, Leilani squeaks, "But what do they do?"
Calmly, Miasma says, "They'll slice your head off with their scythe and drink your soul before reanimating you as a zombie–like creature that will exist to serve them. Before they decompose in a month. I suspect they want to transform you into Deathbringers too, however. Although I'm not sure how the process goes; there are multiple types of Deathbringers created different ways."
The tone is one other people would use to describe the quality of their sleep. Unless they're an insomniac like Pisces.
"That sounds great," Taurus remarks in a mockery of the same calm tone Miasma uses.
