The Serpent's Chronicles - Cataclysm

Anonymous x Pen Pal

Hello my sweet readers, how are you on this fine day? I hope all of you are doing well!

First and foremost, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's one of the few I barely touched when comparing to the first version of Cataclysm because I truly adore it. I don't think there's much of it I need to change. ALSO, we finally start to use words in Medea's mother tongue! Yay! From now on, whenever I write in Dnihipian, the translation will be on the chapter's final notes.

To my LGBTQ+ readers, I wish you a very happy pride month! Take care of yourselves and have fun, lovelies!

That was it for today. Happy birthday to me, happy Pride and don't forget about HisokaWeek!

See you tomorrow,

—Cherry🍒

Medea did not tell a soul about the messages. Perhaps it was a stupid decision since no one in their right mind would remain silent about a possible stalker, but she could not talk about the situation. Something within herself impelled her to keep the fact secret — a premonition, maybe, and Medea surely believed in a sixth sense. Not acknowledging what her gut told her would be foolish.

In addition, she was very curious to know what that unknown Hunter had sent her. A gift, they had said. Once again, accepting it was most likely a decision only an idiot would make; there was a rather high possibility that it could be a prank or a homicide attempt.

Did Medea care?

Not in the slightest.

She was aware that curiosity was one of her greatest weaknesses, however, it was impossible to control that need to find out what was obscure to her eyes, it was almost unmanageable. That was probably what had mesmerized her so much about the possibility of becoming a Hunter. To discover new things was the reason she loved her job, and it was a small thing, she knew that, but it was the only compass she had through the ups and downs of life.

After all, it was just her and a vast world begging to be explored. No one ever got between them.

The taxi stopped in front of the small hut and as soon as the smell of pines and acacias invaded her nostrils, her worries vanished. She handed the money to the driver and got out of the car with Killua and Alluka behind her, their backpacks in hand.

"Stop pushing me!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Alluka, stop!" Killua whined. "You'll destroy my Chocorobos!"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Sometimes, she forgot that they were only a few years younger than her, their still childish faces and carefree behavior deceived her, leading her to perceive them as little children. It was funny and weird.

Alluka opened the wooden door and the first thing she did was toss her backpack on the table, sighing as she threw herself on the couch and stretched like a lazy cat. Killua rolled his eyes and headed to the bedroom, muttering things about a fight that would soon be broadcasted on television.

Before she got inside as well, Medea stopped. She stared at the iron box a few feet away from her front door. In her chest, the excitement bubbled, and she bit her lip as she headed to it.

The mailbox was large and it was slightly rusty on the sides after so many years of exposure to Lapet's rainy climate. Some doodles made in vibrant, metallic paint were fading due to the action of time — the colorful and bright strokes in flower shapes, sun rays, and clouds seemed to become lighter each time Medea observed them attentively. She crinkled her nose. It would have to be repainted soon. The stainless steel letters M and L were the only still untouched details of the decoration and shone under the morning sun.