Chapter Text
Chapter one: Retrieval.
A dark cloaked figure followed by thick gray fog moved through the Spirit World. Moving seemingly uncaring about the uncountable gazes that observed ‘Him’ with awe and fear. As he kept advancing, he deeply scrutinized all that came into ‘His’ vision, making the inhabitants of the Spirit world go into hiding.
‘Somewhere around… here.’ Thought The Fool before stopping in front of a seemingly inconspicuous space in the landscape.
‘He’ reached out and lightly pulled the space, and as he did something like a curtain was pulled aside, revealing a glimpse of a sprawling ancient city that spiraled downwards into the depths, with a dark palace at its center.
Calderon City, the city of the dead.
‘He’ noticed the aura of death immediately, as a soft wave washed over ‘Him’ only to then pull in a small tug. In response ‘He’ lightly invoked the aura of Sefirah Castle making the previous power recede.
He entered the city in a calmly manner, but each of his steps defied logic. Of course, he could have stolen the distance between him and his destination, instantaneously reaching it. But, as manners required, there was a need to give them time to prepare for ‘His’ arrival.
In a few more steps he reached the palace at the center of the city, and as ‘He’ expected, various figures stepped out to receive him. All of them donning the robes of the Church of the Evernight Goddess. The figures slowly stopped walking, all of them but two women, one wearing a priestly garb that hinted at the highest-ranking member of the clergy, and a recognizable Servant of Concealment with raver hair and a linen robe.
The familiar woman spoke first “We are graced by your presence…” She paused for a moment, as if trying to deal with the next words “Lord of the Mysteries” preferring to say ‘His’ title as an Above the Sequence to the overly familiar name that ‘His’ followers used.
The Fool, still enveloped in gray fog, gave them a slight nod, and spoke “I had hoped to speak to Lady Amanises in person… but it seems that won’t be possible…” ‘He’ used the name of the Goddess directly to remark his status, but also to present himself with a sense of familiarity with ‘Her’.
‘For all I know she is in deep slumber right now. The Twilight Giant's uniqueness should give her less trouble than the Death uniqueness… but is preferable that she gets a higher authority over the River of Eternal Darkness first before accumulating all the others.’ Thought Klein, as the conclusions started to entangle in his mind.
Now, with the level that his divination abilities had reached, mostly having a question would be the only needed action to receive an answer from the Spirit World. But as one may have it, the city of the dead overlapped with the presence of the Evernight Goddess, dampened this ability.
Then ‘He’ spoke again “I wish to retrieve something that should be in the distributary of the river as of this moment”. ‘He’ was basically saying that he needed to access the most crucial location in the city, the place where the Goddess was resting and at her most vulnerable, to take something.
Most of the members of the church tensed up at the words of the Lord of Mysteries, but ‘He’ still hadn’t finished.
“It’s very precious to me and I cannot leave without it” the last part bordered on a threat, but it couldn’t be helped, as at this juncture time was of the essence, even for the King of space and time.
‘He’ looked directly at the surrounding forces as they, subtly, positioned themselves for battle.
He sighed and continued “Don’t get confused” as ‘He’ started advancing towards the Angels at the front. “I am a Fool that believes in an equivalent exchange, and the Goddess hasn’t done anything but being favorable towards me, so please…” ‘He’ said as he appeared behind the forces of Evernight while looking inside the palace “…Guide the way.”
The fog had slightly dissipated allowing the two figures to sense ‘His’ cold gaze over them, a pressure of both an infinitely black abyss, but tinged with a swirling golden madness.
Arianna and the Pope felt the difference between themselves and the Pillar that was talking to them. ‘We are at ‘His’ mercy…’ Arianna gritted her teeth at the thought.
The Pope ordered the forces to stand down in fear of the damage that a confrontation with the Lord of the Mysteries could bring to their Goddess.
They guided the Fool through the palace to the staircase that led down to the distributary. Even from the top, a deep cold could be felt, one that burrowed into the marrow of the bones.
‘I’m sorry it has to be this way… I promise not to disturb our dear Goddess while I am down there’ Klein thought regretfully as he went downwards.
A few moments later ‘He’ reached the distributary.
He silently observed the imprints that wandered on the water, but also made notice of the differences from the last time he visited this place, as the river flowed slowly so did the calming fragrance of slumber flowers. ‘Salinger is nowhere to be seen…’ noticed Klein. It might mean that ‘She’ managed to subdue his imprint, but it also might mean that it escaped towards another distributary… in the end ‘He’ decided not to conclude anything and keep observing.
The Fool directed his sight to the deepest part of the distributary, there it lingered for a moment as he thought ‘She shouldn’t be far...’
The Fool’s eyes remained still but at that moment all of the distributary was being deeply inspected, but as ‘He’ did so a deep darkness seemed to descend and obscure the river. A dreamy and serene voice soon followed.
“My blessed… not even a greeting?”
The Evernight Goddess sat above a mound covered by slumber flowers that surfaced above the river. ‘She’ was clutching her legs as arms covered in black fur tightly held onto both the uniqueness of Death and Twilight Giant pathways, a bird shaped ornament lay alongside her, seemingly having accomplished its role.
‘Her’ layered dress was in disarray, and some of the veil on her head had been torn, allowing for a rare look of her eyes that were deep as the night but filled with stars.
A gentle smile was offered to the Fool.
“Congratulations on waking up, Klein.”
In front of ‘Her’ the Fool could only break his now cold posture and sigh with exasperation before offering a small smile back to the Goddess.
“Thank you, Amanises” he said moving towards her.
‘She is tired…’
A snap sounded, followed by the dress and veil being restored. The Lord of Mysteries went down on a knee to match the line of sight of the Goddess and started speaking “I’m sorry for not coming to visit sooner… I’ve had some troubl-” but as ‘He’ tried to explain one of the furred arms drew closer and started patting his head.
This left ‘Him’ positively stunned.
In front of him only the smiling goddess kept rubbing his hair. A wry smile slowly crept its way to the face of the Fool.
‘Aren’t you the demonic wolf…?’ Klein lampooned.
“I’ll come to visit more often, my humanity still hasn’t stabilized fully, but I’m good enough to tackle most unfinished businesses. This means that I’ll also help you with the River of Eternal Darkness. So please, keep the risks at a minimum.”
He could only think that he sounded like a son worried for his mother, letting a sigh escape once more, but with eyes that looked warmly at the family that found ‘Him’.
The Evernight Goddess could only let a soft laugh. “What an insolent child… I’m still full of strength you know?” she ruffled his hair a little bit before retracting her arm. “But as you said, paying a simple visit wasn’t what you came here for right?”
‘Her’ expression changed, even now with the veil restored Klein could tell that a sad look now adorned the Goddess’s face. Those were eyes full of pity.
“I truly know what you are feeling but remember that there are times we won’t be able to protect them… Even if we hear their prayers, even if you can see their every move, there are times that an answer is not possible. We aren’t omnipotent, not even ‘Him’” said the Goddess referring to a certain name sensitive priest.
The Fool’s eyes lost the previous warm. Turning cold but betrayed by a deep anguish that could be seen at the bottom.
“Still, I’m not saying that you don’t act… or that you simply let them go…”
The Evernight Goddess then softly reached with one of her hands to the surface of the river, touching it and letting the ripples move forward, dissipating the darkness that enveloped them. Before long, a ‘path’ was formed before them.
“You’ll find her at the end… take as much water as you need to stabilize the imprint. And remember that is just that, an imprint.” Said the goddess offering the ancient bird ornament, one which was promptly received by the Fool.
“I know, thank you and I already have the soul… I need the imprint for other purposes.”
The Fool gave her a final thanks, reassured that ‘He’ will come back soon, and went on his way.
While walking above the rippling path, the words of the Goddess kept making noise inside his head. His cold demeanor was broken by a sigh.
***
It really wasn’t the first time he had lost someone. It had been long ago when he saw his fellow nighthawks die for the first time. Since he saw the victims of the great smog of Backlund, and since he saw the horrors of the war.
The world had changed from back then, but most importantly, ‘He’ had changed.
Rising to become an angel, to become a true god, to become a pillar.
He was a ‘He’ above that stood far above creation.
This was something that he had needed to accept to defeat… no… to digest the remnant will of the Celestial Worthy.
The Lord of Mysteries is a pillar of origin, a being that was capable of inflicting fear at the very core of even other Great Old Ones, and the role must be acted as such. Any half-hearted attempts to accommodate this reality would just result in the will of Celestial Worthy overrunning him.
If he wanted to grasp the seat of the King of Yellow and Black, then he needed to truly embody the name.
As a result, his humanity had diminished tremendously. For a moment it seemed as if a light up match was thrown into the sea. Logically, it would be drowned the moment it touched the water, leaving only a revolting and cold abyss.
At those moments he had desperately listened to the prayers, to his anchors.
“The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era…”
Please, bless my children. Please, cure my mother. Please, bring my loved ones back to safety. He heard ‘His’ believers, he heard the desperate, the poor and the deprived.
‘He’ also heard his family, paying special attention to his sister and niece. Melissa’s prayers specially stirring his heart.
“Mr. Fool… come back to us some day, please.”
“Mr. Fool, please help dad with his work and his hair…”
‘He’ also heard his church’s saints, he heard the prayers of his angels, and the faithful people of the new cities. He heard ‘His’ Tarot Club.
‘He’ heard Madam Magician the closest, she asked for guidance, for protection against the Celestial Worthy and the outer deities.
‘He’ heard Mr. Star as he gave his good wishes and asked the Fool to protect his friend Klein.
‘He’ heard the praises that the Hanged Man and the Sun offered each day.
‘He’ Heard Mr. Moon ask for strength, to truly save not only his race of sanguines, but all the people he had come to care about.
‘He’ heard Madam Judgement dutifully report of the advances of the tasks they were commissioned and asking for the protection of her dear friend and family.
‘He’ heard Madam Hermit thank him for his protection against the Hidden Sage, but also to ask for wisdom on the situation of Bernadette and Roselle.
‘He’ heard a voice full of noble worship, the one that praised the Fool from the bottom of her heart. “May you wake up soon, may your protection stay close to our cause.”
But this one also prayed to the angel of redemption. She didn’t ask anything from ‘His’ persona, instead she kindly talked to her dear Mr. World.
“Good afternoon, Mr. World…”
She asked ‘Him’ how he was feeling, if he had good dreams, if he had bad dreams.
“I hope your day of your awakening is close… you probably are tired but when you come back, we will be able to take some of the weight of your shoulders…”
She spoke about how they would have a therapy session once he woke up.
“You know Mr. World… with Madam Magician’s advancement to an angel, I’ve been thinking of creating Humanity Preservation Rituals. I’ll try them with you too when you wake up…. So please, wake up.”
At one point, the conversation had changed from a doctor and her patient, and she started to share her experiences travelling as a wild beyonder, both the extraordinary and the precious simple experiences.
“Mr. World… I’ve been visiting the villages at the south of Loen Kingdom, near the border with Feynapotter. They do have a lot of delicious desserts; I might even try to bake some for myself and Susie.”
About the expression of disbelief that Madam Magician had when investigating more about The World, about how happy and proud she had been when her dog had become a demigod, and about the pride she had felt when creating the minor arcana.
“Klein Moretti… now I see how you are connected to Melissa. Still, it feels rather impolite to not give a name back…”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Moretti, my name is Audrey Hall.”
About her frustration about not being able to advance to a sequence 2, about her sadness for those that she couldn’t help, about her anger towards the beyonders that stepped over those who didn’t have powers, and the sense of hypocrisy that these feelings sometimes gave her.
The good and the bad, she poured her feelings about each situation to him, and also thought of the possible reactions that Klein would have.
It was more like a conversation between lifelong friends, rather than an angel or a god receiving prayers. And this way, albeit without meaning it, she had come to be one of the Fool’s greatest anchors. One of Klein’s greatest grasps on humanity.
All of these were like fuel that allowed his humanity to keep burning in the face of the abyss.
And yet, ‘He’ had failed them.
***
Madness incarnated seemed to ripple in the sky above the desolate landscape, one where towering pieces of chess depicting queens, bishops and rooks lay destroyed, crumbling slowly.
Inside this scene, where the heavens had fallen, and rubble from both modern and Victorian era buildings lay dispersed, where scorching stars lay grafted to the surface of the world, two men looked at each other.
One of them was barely standing, supported only by a cane inlaid with starlight.
The other one was looked at the first one with a maddened smile.
“Ah… such a shame our games have to end now little Zhou… are you sure that you don’t wish to stay here? You’ve already seen the extent to which this place can give you what you desire… “
The Fool walked… no, he limped, slowly to the proudly standing Celestial Worthy. ‘His’ eyes were cold; the once kind and sweet gaze was nowhere to be found.
That place was now occupied by a bizarre and animalistic urge, an instinctual surrender to a primordial claim for self-preservation.
It was an abyss that now rivaled that of ‘His’ predecessor, one that even if tinged with golden, failed to be illuminated by the light of the crimson stars that adorned the ground.
Gradually, the limping transformed into a steady walking, one that slowly reunited the two Lords face to face.
The Celestial Worthy didn’t possess anything more, as the ornate gloves, the cane inlaid with stars, and the featureless mask adorned the body and soul of the one who was supposed to be nothing else but a pawn in his resurrection.
Still, he didn’t drop the smile. He knew it was a fake one, a charade of pride.
He didn’t consider himself low enough to start putting up these kinds of displays, but here he was. He had given it his all, trying to swallow the consciousness of the man in from of him.
In turn, little Zhou didn’t smile, an expressionless visage was the only thing he saw. The most honest face of the Fool.
Inside the Door of Light symbol is reality.
Slowly Klein’s face was completely obscured by a curtain, and in a moment, it also obscured the rest of ‘His’ body. Only the mask, the cane, and the gloves stayed distinct from the formless darkness.
From beneath the curtain, sinister tentacles slowly started to grow outwards, slowly making the figure of the Fool rise and tower over the Celestial Worthy.
In turn, he let out a single chuckle.
***
The Door of Light opened up once again, and a figure shrouded in a black and gold curtain stepped out from the depths of Sefirah Castle.
The moment ‘He’ had woken up, not only the Spirit World, but also the Physical and Astral Worlds had been shaken with an insurmountable wave of spirituality. For a moment, the colors that tinged every aspect of reality both dimmed and enriched themselves. For a moment, the curtain of shadows threatened to be pulled apart. For a moment, the World Barrier trembled and the truth of existence in this world was nearly revealed to all living things.
Naturally, the Tarot Club, especially Madam Magician, had also sensed ‘His’ return.
Praise the Fool! That was their first thought, followed by chanting ‘His’ honorific name.
In turn, ‘He’ heard their prayers, ‘He’ heard their pleas for help.
But ‘He’ didn’t respond.
The moment of his awakening hadn’t been one of simple victory, but of more overbearing danger, as ‘He’ gazed into deeper godhood, as ‘His’ new position as a fully formed pillar allowed him to stand as a witness to the depths of this universe.
‘He’ looked at infinity, at an all-encompassing being, his mind flooded with the knowledge and secrets that befitted the position he now occupied.
The Lord of the Mysteries gazed upon the Oldest One.
And the Oldest One gazed back.
‘He’ could barely stand, as his eyes filled with greater madness, as the gold swayed both gently and tumultuously inside of the dark abyss painted on ‘His’ pupils.
In this situation, ‘He’ dismissed the prayers of his people, for at that moment the self-preservation instincts had taken an unbreakable hold over him, using everything at his disposal, his anchors, his history, his very soul, and humanity.
Even his newly obtained identity as the Celestial Worthy united itself with the identity of the Fool to claw at the border of the abyss.
‘He’ took small steps. Not those of a victorious god, but those of a feeble man. Each threatening to send the newly born Lord of Mysteries, stumbling into the bottom of the stairs that lead from the Door of Light.
‘He’ could only support himself on the side, barely managing to seat. ‘He’ felt a pressure on his inexistent heart. Tentacles extended from within ‘Him’, reaching out towards every nook and cranny of the castle, as if trying desperately to hold on to something.
To find ‘His’ anchors among the gray fog.
It left him impassive, inert as a stone, until he had somewhat stabilized.
It took only half an hour. And through all that time, they invoked ‘His’ name.
But slowly the prayers started to stop.
‘Hmm’ that didn’t escape notice by the Fool.
He heard how the tired voices, the pious voices, the passionate voices, the soft and wise voices slowly receded.
“Please… Mr. Fool” sounded the last voice. A melodious and kind tone… but one that now ringed with pain. “Please look at us… please, save us.”
This made his intuition ring with displeasure, like a matter that he needed to attend urgently to. But it still didn’t move ‘Him’. The natural urge of a Pillar, while shaken, didn’t budge.
Then the voice prayed once again… not to the god, but to the angel.
“Mr. World… please… Klein…”
It was a desperate tone, but also a longing one. The prayer was brief, but when it stopped a crawling cold assaulted all of Klein’s senses, his eyes widened and then came the realization.
‘They are in danger!’ he screamed in his mind as a sudden and cold fear, one that he didn’t feel since a long time ago for anyone else but himself, ran down ‘His’ spine. A sense of dread and a grasping guilt stemmed from his prior actions and distressed his heart.
It wouldn’t be wrong to say that ‘His’ anchors had saved him countless times. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that his present sanity and position only came from their unwavering belief. They had saved him, and in turn, he ignored them.
‘Why?!’
He felt the guilt and fear twist his insides, as if every worm had tried to crawl out of himself and try to devour themselves at the tail.
Immediately, the space had been twisted inside Sefirah Castle. The gray fog seemed to revolve violently before taking the form of spears that pointed towards the source of the prayers.
There ‘He’ had sensed the Tarot Club.
‘He’ quickly moved his gaze towards a ruined city near the western continent, one portraying ancient architecture from an unknown epoch, now bustling violently with mystical displays of power.
‘Angels…?’ the Fool’s mind grew concerned as he remembered that, while there were many angels under his forces, the Tarot club could only immediately count with Madam Magician and maybe Pallez.
‘He’ moved with urgency.
The night sky was instantly darkened further, as if a curtain had been dropped over heaven, pulled as if to asphyxiate everything under it.
On the island, the traitors of the world stood in place, they believed in a multitude of gods, in the beings that saw from above, not being of a single cult, but collaborating so that they may gain victory.
And it had been like that just moments ago. They had been hunting the Tarot Club, confident in the might of the angels that led them. Divine judgement they had shouted. Death to the believers of the false gods they had chanted in unison.
But now they feared. And in their fear, they shouted, in their fear they chanted and prayed to their idols, in their fear… they didn’t notice.
An overwhelming existence had descended.
The ambience of the mythical battle was immediately stopped cold, and surprise followed by fear was etched into the faces of the enemies of the Fool, who’s malice was etched into the scowl that adorned ‘His’ hidden face.
Tentacles shot forward like spears, tearing apart reality, fooling their minds, and stealing the very characteristics from inside them. Every being that got into contact with them collapsed into a blend of flesh and worms.
The Fool’s tentacles ripped the void open and brought out avatars of himself that with strength unnatural for ‘His’ pathways, ripped to pieces the forces in front of ‘Him’, wounding them at the very core and in irreparable forms.
Those avatars on the fourth and third levels of the sequence hid themselves with illusions and left to rampage releasing their mythical creature forms.
The cries of demigods were heard, and the angels moved hastily trying to escape. People reciting different honorific names were heard, some in languages like Ancient Hermes, Jotun or Ancient Feysac. But some in indistinguishable and alien ravings.
Most of the saints were not answered to, their deities preferring to aid the escape of the angels present.
Slowly but surely, the city was left devoid of opposition, either because of death or escape. All the while ‘He’ hurriedly searched the city for the members of his Tarot.
‘Faster!’ he demanded of ‘Himself’.
He then saw the tired blue eyes of Madam Magician. She had ripped some of her dress’ skirt, blood splattered over her blouse, and in place of an arm she only had a few moving worms that barely reached to the length of her elbow. Some abnormalities could be seen inside her spirit body, which was healing slowly.
‘He’ was instantly by her side, his visage covered by thick bouts of grey fog.
She was barely standing, and yet, she brought a hand to her chest and bowed.
“Praise the Fool!” she exclaimed, before collapsing. As the Fool was about to move and hold her, Madam Judgement took her side. She was also wounded, but in better condition when comparing her to Magician.
A grateful but tired smile adorned her face.
The Fool snapped his fingers, healing the ailments that had felled over the two major arcana. Then ‘He’ looked, softly towards a collapsed building that stood no more than a few meters away.
After a moment, a few figures emerged from the rubble. There were two demonesses, one with flaxen hair and lake blue eyes. She had strong vitality, signaling her possessing godhood. But even then, her wounds were nearly life-threatening.
And still then, she didn’t relax her hand holding onto a wounded boy. The child had a disfigured jaw that seemed to have been punched with extreme force, giving a gruesome scene.
From behind them, another demoness made an effort along with a spectator. They limped, while carrying a nearly dead hunter. He was being treated with urgency and desperation by an apothecary.
Madam Magician looked at them with pity, then he turned and bowed her head towards her god.
“Please…”
‘He’ had mostly understood the situation, recognizing the aura of the arcana of the Tarot Club coming from them, albeit fainter. But above all, he recognized the filtering corruption from Inevitability that slowly crept from inside the nearly dead young man, and the seal that resonated with himself.
A single snap was heard from an illusory space, and their wounds were healed.
Still, the Fool got closer to the hunter. He noticed the trembling from the two people supporting him. ‘They aren’t even demigods yet…’ he thought with a degree of exasperation.
But even while trembling, even while scared beyond measure of the entity that in a moment had turned the tables of this battle, they didn’t let go of their friend.
The Fool touched the chest of the still unconscious but now healed hunter, and as if speaking to the creature inside, fortified the seal extending it along the rest of his chest.
Seeing that they didn’t have any more wounds, the Fool left a marionette to care for them and continued to search for the rest of ‘His’ arcana.
He slowly found the Sun and the Hanged Man, both of them barely standing by an obliterated plaza that had markings of burning and lightning strikes. The first one to notice ‘Him’ was the Hanged Man, but he couldn’t make any sound, as his jaw was barely hanging onto his face. Derrick on the other hand had his back turned to ‘Him’, desperately trying to purify the wounds on Alger’s body.
The Fool got to their side and taking a normal step, he said to the half-giant arcana. “You’ve done well, Derrick.” The Sun instantly recognized the gentle voice of his god, and turning he rapidly praised ‘Him’. The Hanged Man tried to do so as well, but he was barely holding on to consciousness.
The Fool rapidly healed them with wishes, purifying them with the gray fog of Sefirah Castle, and leaving another puppet to take care of them and reunite them with Magician and Judgement.
Then, ‘He’ moved to a collapsed cathedral. Inside, the Moon was desperately alternating between healing a nearly dead Star and an unconscious Hermit. He was so immersed into healing his fellow companions that he didn’t have time to care about the Fool getting closer… or the gaping wound on his stomach.
Until a pang of pain made him kneel. Emlyn felt as if the world was getting darker, as if the cold of the night was slowly going to eat him whole. “T-this doesn’t befit a messiah; don’t you think Mr. Star?” he tried talking to the Star.
“It indeed doesn’t” answered the Fool, followed by a snap.
Emlyn’s red eyes widened in surprise, before slowly looking at his fellow major arcana. Then he got up and as the rest of them said. “Praise the Fool!”
‘There is nothing to praise…’ thought Klein. Then ‘He’ looked at the state of Cattleya, who had yet to wake up, but seeing as there was nothing wrong with her, ‘He’ let her sleep.
Instead of moving towards the rest, ‘He’ decided to bring the previous groups towards the cathedral, reuniting the found members of the Tarot Club.
‘He’ had covered himself in a thick curtain of fog, only his black robes could be partially seen. They couldn’t see ‘Him’, not directly at least, putting away any risk of them being overwhelmed by the aura of ‘His’ main body.
But ‘He’ could see them.
‘He’ saw their faces, and he could read their relief to see him come back, their awe at the might he displayed, the genuine happiness to have Mr. Fool back. These emotions only grew as he healed their injuries.
Even the new faces that he didn’t recognize looked at ‘Him’ as devout believers. All of them thankful to their lord for his rescue.
They trembled slightly and was a fear in their faces, one that every believer has towards their god. But there was no eye or mind that put the blame on what happened on ‘Him’.
They didn’t resent him, not even close.
But ‘He’ resented himself.
As the thought that he had managed to save them started to surface in his mind the soft cry of a dog was heard. One of his avatars had found something, so instantly, the Fool relocated to the place.
He looked at the scene of a whimpering golden retriever hunched by the ruble of a destroyed square.
‘It’s injured…’ thought the Fool as he instantaneously moved to their side, easily healing the dog with a single snap.
He then saw her by its side.
Golden locks of hair falling and obscuring her face. Her deep emerald eyes were open and without light. A sinister aura covering all of her body, like gnawing at it.
Tainting her soul and constricting her fate.
***
After a moment, The Fool stopped reminiscing for ‘He’ had reached his destination.
Here the rippled waters stopped, and the cold of death seemed to deepen even more.
‘His’ eyes trembled slightly to the sight before him.
There a woman moved over the surface, clad in a simple light green dress, walking aimlessly from side to side.
She looked around as if admiring the dark scenery of the river.
As if sensing his gaze, she turned to look at ‘Him’. A genuine smile spread on her face before being followed by a slight bow and a layered and illusory voice that said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Fool ~.”