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Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
The musty air of the crypt flowed all around her, and she wrinkled her nose against the foul smell of burnt hair that followed her ever since an unfortunate interaction with a Pop Star.
Thump, thump, thump.
Cadence felt the walls pulse all around her, whispering in her mind to move, to go. It took all of her dwindling willpower to not give in, but she had to. She couldn’t let the crypt take even this small comfort away.
Her head fell back against the crumbling wall next to the staircase. She was exhausted, barely able to push herself up to continue going, moving, dancing to the beat that thrummed in her veins.
But no, that was right.
She wasn’t tired, exactly. It wasn’t drowsiness that kept her sitting there–it was fear. She was scared to keep going. That was what kept her feet rooted to the ground, even as the beat pushed her to move and dance in its saccharine sweet arms. She knew eventually she’d have to. No time to wait and collect yourself in the crypt.
Her foot started tapping.
There had been three floors of purple crumbling walls with spiders crowded at the tops of them and teleporting monsters that made her head spin faster than her feet did in a twirl.
She used to be happy about getting further, going deeper into the crypt (She used to be happy about the idea of finding her father), but now the thrill of excitement, of curiosity, had been soured by finding out exactly what was past that not-quite-final staircase.
She’d have to go down it eventually. After all, the Necrodancer had never been a very patient man. She knew how the strings that dug into where her heart once was would pull and her feet would move of their own accord and push her into that staircase; it had happened before. At some point her throat would clog and her vision would fuzz, and she would be lost to the world other than the scrape of flesh against stone as she was pulled to it.
But for now, she had time. She’d quickly found her way to the end this go around, clearing out the monsters and skipping Freddie’s shop. Cadence couldn’t quite look at him the same these days.
When she’d first gone down into the crypt, she’d passed him by, gunning for the next level to find out what was next (to find Dorian). Then after she’d watched her own blood hit the walls one too many times to where it played back in her mind whenever she closed her eyes, she opened that door. He was singing, as he always was, offering his wears with a flourish at the printed labels. Even now she couldn’t argue that without them she would have died a whole lot more.
But after the last time she’d made it this far? She never laughed and sang along with him whenever she bought his wears, simply placing the money on the rock and avoiding eye contact.
She remembered it like it was yesterday, and with crypt time being what it is, it might as well have been (she remembered it all anyways, printed into her mind though her skin stitched itself back together no matter how many times it ripped apart).
- - - - - -
She forced a smile onto her face, hands clenched into fists behind her. She couldn’t let him see her cry, had to keep her movements light and flowing to keep the crypt happy (to stop him from seeing her flinch at his every move).
In all honesty, Dorian looked lost.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. She was trying to ignore it.
If she didn't think about how it was him, her father, that had haunted her these past 50 runs, how it was Dorian who had broken her bones and crushed her skull into the wall countless times, how she had been forced to clench her teeth and move to avoid him, then she would be fine. She could cry later, after they were safe and out of the crypt.
She could find Eli, wherever he was now that she’d left too (just like him. Just like her.) and run into his arms. But for now she smiled, grinning ear to ear to show her father that she was happy he was alive (she was, she just had so many more emotions within her than the pigtailed little girl he’d left with his brother).
She had a moment of weakness, when she had first seen his face out from under that bell. She’d called out to him, voice breaking (just like her bones had), but she had to pull herself together. She had to be strong. She had to be okay.
His hands came up to cup her face, trembling along with the rest of him, and she leaned in hard, crashing into his chestplate. She told herself that it was for comfort, rather than to hide the tears sprouting in her eyes. She hoped he couldn't hear when they ran along the strings of his chestplate and tinked on the hard ground in tune to the beat.
Dorian wrapped his cape around her shoulders and held her tight, as comforting as he could be in that near-invulnerable armour (the same armour she had pulled at with too-weak hands after her spear had fallen from her grip the last time she’d reached this wretched room).
His arms tightened and she tried to remember if his hugs used to feel that way. If they used to be as comforting as she so wished this one was. Instead, it was constricting. His arms wrapped around her lungs like a snake, choking her. Her breathing picked up, mind filling in bracers and too-cold hands for wall and the strings pushed into her forehead for the mallet he had swung at her so many times before. Her mind played it back again and again, reminding her of the all consuming pain of her skin being pulverised.
“Okay,” She said, trying to keep her voice steady, “let’s get going.”
She twisted out of her father’s hug, spinning around in a twirl that still felt too happy for any of this. It let her face away from him for long enough to calm her breathing though, so she let her feet carry her to the way down.
She held out her hand and his larger one took it.
She didn’t look at him, eyes trained on the staircase that would either lead to their death or their escape.
“Let’s go.”
And with that, they descended down ever further into the earth.
The walls of the stairs were as dark as ever, tricking one’s mind into thinking they both went on forever and were only a few steps down. Her feet were no help either, tapping the beat that pumped her blood through her veins, refusing to tell her how long they’d been moving for.
Eventually, they made it to another set of doors, and with a deep breath that didn’t calm her down as much as she hoped it would, they pushed forwards into the space beyond.
It filtered into a room like every other pre-boss fight room. The ticking clock in the back of her mind whispered that this was a terrible sign; what could be worse than having to fight her own father?
Dorian stepped forwards, and she pushed the thought away, smothering the warning bells and squaring her shoulders. Her feet still tapped out the rhythm that was all too chipper, heart beating to the tune of the walls around them.
He glanced back at her, and she could only hope that he was seeing her as she was now rather than the little kid he left behind. She watched his arms shake at the doorway, watched him take a deep breath, and push them open.
He stayed stock still at the edge of the arena; she had forgotten just how many fights she’d won (and lost) in rooms just like this one; how unfamiliar was this to him? Cadence jogged up to pass him, fingers wrapping around his to pull him along with her. She ignored how it felt like the walls were closing in behind her, pushing her ever forwards, ever deeper.
Laughter echoed throughout the antichamber, rumbling up out of pale blue skin that bubbled and pooled around bones that yearned for the earth beneath their feet. Her mother had described the Necrodancer as something to be feared, a monster under the bed to convince her to behave. Melody had failed to mention how grotesque his figure had become after so many years with the lute.
She involuntarily stepped backwards, dancing feet sending her reeling and unsteady.
“Leaving so soon?” The Necrodancer’s voice was rough like he was gargling a Xylobone, “I guess you don’t have the heart to face me!”
Cadence’s chest erupted in pain that pulsed in a far harder to ignore rhythm than her feet tapping to an invisible beat. She forced her gaze back up to the Necrodancer.
In his hand was her heart. It expanded and contracted to the rhythm of his dance, moving from sickly and shriveled to overfilled and near bursting at the seams. His fingernails dug deep into the flesh, rivulets of blood running down them and plopping on the floor like the last raindrops after a storm.
Claws hidden in the empty cavity of her chest tore through her, fingers of pain reaching out to it. It felt so wrong. The pain dilated out in tune with the still-tapping of her foot, feeling as though it was ripping her flesh into a shredded mess.
Too-cold hands fell onto her shoulders.
“I think–” She looked up to find Dorian standing behind her, and for the first time since the bell cracked, he actually looked like her father, rather than an unfortunate doppelgänger. “I know how to defeat him, but we’ll have to work together.”
She nodded back to him, eyes trained on his forehead, brain still screaming that he felt too dead to look in the eyes.
“Follow my lead,” Dorian said, before his hands left her shoulders and he plowed forwards towards the Necrodancer’s stage.
The music inside her hollow chest swelled. Before she chose to follow after her father, her feet were swept up in it. She danced forwards, swaying to the beat of the drums writhing their way up her shins, and she tripped onto a button positioned right before the stage.
She heard a dull click. Cadence stumbled backwards away from it, panic filling her veins. Her head whipped back and forth, looking for the bomb or items spread all around her. The song echoing through her bones grew in her ears and her hands came up to shield her face from an invisible onslaught.
Just in case.
A boom echoed throughout the chamber, but she remained unharmed. Her breathing slowed down to the metronome click, hollow chest’s burn icing over. She exhaled. Inhaled. It was alright.
She lowered her arms and blinked her eyes open.
That must have been what her father’s idea was. She could see him standing on a button not too far away, eyes lit up with a giggle befitting a much younger man. He turned towards her, mouth stretched up in a grin that the depths of her memory told her was usually reserved for when Melody cracked a particularly bad pun. She would fall, laughing, into Eli as they both keeled over. Dorian would sigh and shake his head, but when she looked up at him from her spot so much lower on the ground (she had been so much smaller back then (it had been so long since they’d been a happy family)), she’d see a glint in his eyes.
She watched him and felt a soft grin, a real smile, form on her own face. Whatever it took, they’d face it together.
They danced alongside each other to the rest of the buttons, feet moving in sync, swaying to the rhythm of the beat. For the first time since she’d fallen into the crypt, the music felt like a warm hug rather than shackles keeping her pinned like a bug.
She leaped onto the last button right as Dorian got to another and they watched as the stage directly beneath the Necrodancer blew ceiling-high. Both her and Dorian’s faces split with twin smiles, wider on the right than on the left, and both sets of teeth showing.
He turned towards her.
She watched as his face morphed from joy to horror. She watched as the spark in his eyes flashed and transformed into the one trickle of light that filtered through the crack in the bell shoved over his head. She watched as he raised his
hammer
broadsword and rushed towards her.
“MELOD–”
Wind ripped past her and she flung herself out of the way as he charged.
Cadence landed hard on her forearms and she ripped her head back up (can’t stay down. If you stay down he’ll rush again. If you don't keep moving, keep dancing, keep going, you’ll fall behind. He won’t miss twice.) to keep eyes on him.
The shimmering form of a Red Dragon disappeared, flickering in and out of existence behind her father.
He turned towards her, hands reaching out to grab her (to get her. To keep her still so he could run his hammer through her stomach. So she couldn’t get away). She scrambled up, mind running faster than the beat of the music in her bones to think of where to dive out of the way of his dash.
Her eyes flicked back and forth, deciding to jump to the left as soon as he raised the hammer again.
Her vision focused back onto Dead Ringer, and she watched Dorian’s face crumple.
She watched Dead Ringer–She watched Dorian—She watched Dead Ringer fall to his knees, tears falling from his face–through the crack in his bell. She watched–
She watched as a crooked grin materialized above his head.
The Necrodancer’s eyes twinkled with a much darker light than the shine that had glimmered in her father’s eyes. Her vision caught on a spark poised above his left hand.
He was holding a bomb. He was holding a bomb right above her father’s head. He winked at her, and let the explosive fall, disappearing in a puff of smoke that almost made her think it had already gone off.
She crumbled forwards, reaching out towards him as she screamed, “DAD!”
Cold hands fell onto her shoulders, and her mind flashed back to her father’s still-freezing hands. They had felt much more comfortable in comparison to the sharp claws digging into her skin.
A shiver ran up her spine as a cold breath flowed past her face, “Freeze.”
The music stopped. She didn’t realise how loud the song had grown during the fight, but the silence was deafening. The lack of beating from her missing heart screamed at her as wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong with nothing to block the absence from clawing its way through her ears. Ice crept its way up her legs, locking her in place.
For once, her feet were still on the ground underneath her, and as she tried to rip them up from the earth, they were as unwilling as always. Her jaw was frozen shut, and the cool breeze before a shiver tingled across her ribs.
Her mind screamed at her to move, to warn him, to get Dorian to go somewhere, do something, GET OUT OF THE WAY, but she couldn’t do a thing. She never thought she would miss the quick movement that the rhythm forced upon her.
Dorian was still on the floor, eyes flowing with tears as he slowly rocked himself back and forth. The silence filling the room made his mumblings crisp.
“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Melody. I’m so sorry–” He hiccupped, then kept going, repeating the words over and over again.
The sharp pain in her shoulders increased. “He’s not even mourning you. He doesn’t even care about you. Even after you went through everything to save him, he still doesn’t care about you.”
She wanted to growl at the Necrodancer, to tell him that he was wrong, but she couldn’t. A small part of her was glad that she physically couldn’t get her mouth to form words, because she wasn’t sure if she could even argue with what he was saying.
“All he cares about is that annoyance he calls a wife. I really don't know what he sees in her, she’s just as much of a tool as her wretched mother.”
The Necrodancer hummed discontentedly.
A small ripple of sound flitted through the air.
“I’m so sorry.”
One, two, three.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
One, two, three, four.
Cadence’s foot started tapping.
“I’m–I’m so sorry”
One, tap. Two, tap.
She breathed in.
“I’m so, so, so sorry.”
She breathed out in time with the beat.
“Fuck–I’m so sorry.”
She ripped her way out of the Necrodancer's grip, exploding forwards towards Dorian, reaching out.
One.
He looked up towards her, hiccuping once more as his eyes locked onto hers.
Two.
“DAD! RUN!” The words tore their way through her throat, as she continued barrelling forwards.
Three.
“Cadence?”
BOOM.
Light split her world into pieces. Hot burns licked their way along her arms as she screamed. Claws of pain made their way up her throat, climbing higher as the sound suddenly all came back in full force.
She stumbled over to him and fell to the ground.
His whole chest was ripped open, the instrument body previously covering it was broken beyond repair. All four strings were snapped, popped up like a poor imitation of bones wrenched out of place. Red poured down his front, and she could see small flickers of white where the muscle and skin had been blown away.
“Caden–” His voice cracked, pettering out as he coughed. A smattering of red drops landed on his lips as his breath came out ragged.
She leapt to her knees, hands hovering over his wounds. “Dad?”
“Cadence.” Another cough, ripping through his throat in a way that made her want to claw at her own. “You’ve grown so much. I need–” He broke off again.
“I need you to know how proud of you I am.”
She sobbed, hands hitting his chest, trying to keep him together in whatever way she could.
“I need–I need you to. I–”
“No, you don’t get to die here. You can’t.”
She pushed down harder on his chest. Faking compressions that wouldn’t do anything to the empty cavities where both of their hearts should have been.
“I won’t let you,” She said through gritted teeth.
“Cadence…”
She crumpled forwards, head cushioned below his chin. Her arms came up to clutch at his sides, sobs ripping through her.
“I need you to know how much I love you.”
One of his arms wriggled out from underneath her, wrapping around her back and squeezing her tight.
“My wonderful daughter. My most favourite person in the whole world.”
Footsteps sounded from behind them, and a soft clicking filtered through the beating in her ears mimicking a heart.
“You are so so so strong, and I’m so sorry you had to be.”
The Necrodancer’s voice cut through the warmth of Dorian’s embrace, and she stiffened.
“I thought–
Dorian only held her tighter, “Cadence.”
“– I told you to freeze.”
“I love you so much.”
An explosion reverberated through the chamber, heat flourishing up, up, up, and through them both. Dorian’s arm held on tight through it all, clutching to her back.
Then,
It,
Fell.
She raised her head from underneath her father’s chin, eyes trained on his face. He was staring straight up at the ceiling. His once bright eyes were cold and dark.
“Papa…” She fell back down to his chest, sobbing. The smell of iron laying heavy upon her nose and in her mouth as she buried her face at his still cold—a different cold now—form.
Her hand shot out to find his, fingers pressing hard to his wrist, trying to find something, anything, to tell her that he was still there. But, of course, it was futile, both of their hearts had been gone for so long.
Claws dug into her shoulders yet again, fingernails finding their home burrowing around her collarbones. The chill of the Necrodancer’s hands battled against the heat of tears filling her face.
Her vision swam and it almost looked like Dorian’s body flickered like a dying monster. One of her hands scrabbled along the remains of his chestplate, beating down to make sure he was still there. She couldn’t lose him twofold. She needed to–she needed to bury him next to her mother, she needed to keep her family together in this one way. She needed it.
The hands on her shoulders yanked, tearing through the upper layer of flesh. The picture in front of her flew past as her body was forced upwards. A cry left her lips, hands trying to keep purchase in the one of his that she still held.
The Necrodancer pulled again, and she lost hold of her father. Untethered, she felt heat spark in the pit of her stomach.
How dare he.
How dare he mess with her family like this.
The cruel smile cutting across his face like a gash widened as she felt him take a breath behind her, “How about we do this a little bit differently, hmm? No need to get too feisty, Cadence.”
The anger rose higher, and she felt a low growl build in her throat. He tapped a finger against her shoulder, chiding her like a disappointed teacher.
“After all, I think a one on one discussion is a bit more fair. The two of you ganging up on me, it’s a bit disgraceful. I did expect more of you, didn’t your mother teach you better than that?”
She fought her way out of his grip, staggering forwards to put some more distance between them.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot that neither of your parents ever cared about you.”
She turned back to him, glaring daggers sharper than anything she’d ever found in the crypt.
His face contorted and his grin widened ever more. It seemed to almost puncture through his skin, the holes pockmarking his face stretching and pulling around it. His skin was almost stringy, falling down over the gaping hole in his skull. The music in her ears covered up most sounds, but she would swear that she heard his skin bubbling and popping as it flowed around and around like a whirlpool of meat. His teeth pushed through his lips, indenting through the skin stretched around his gums. She could see the specific gaps where the teeth had fallen out, after rotting away. His whole face was filled with holes and there were specific spots where the skin appeared to be thinner than others, like stretched out dough. The bottoms of his cheeks were rotting, shredded under the weight of his beard pulling on them. The stench filling the crypt was like that of a corpse–dont think about it, about him— left in the sun too long.
She shook her head, pulling herself back into the moment, gaze settling into a firmer glare.
He chuckled, grin slipping further out.
Her legs tensed, muscles spasming after everything they’d been forced to do. The Necrodancer’s chest expanded in a breath, about to say something. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction; he’d had more than enough of that. Maybe she wouldn’t make it to tomorrow, but she’d fall a thousand times before she didn’t make the most of today.
She rushed him. Her feet pounded against the floor, arms outstretched to hit him first. She saw his face change as he realised she wasn’t going to sit there and take it any longer; The everlasting smile snapped for only a second before it was back, eyebrows falling down into a momentary sneer.
Just as she was about to bury her hands into his skin, tear through the weak flesh surrounding his eyes, he disappeared. She flew past where he last was, reeling from momentum with nowhere to put it.
She whipped her head behind her, trying to see where he’d popped to. She jumped, a whole body shiver moving its way through her limbs, sending her stumbling forwards at a much less sure pace. His face was barely half a beat’s worth of distance behind her.
From this range, he looked all the more grotesque.
She had only a moment to think before his foot impacted her back. She fell forwards, hands coming up to catch her. The rocks of the crypt cut through her palms, small pebbles digging in.
She scrambled upwards, and brushed her hands on her knees to get the rocks out. Cadence took a step backwards, trying to create some distance between them. She kept him in her line of sight.
The Necrodancer stalked forwards, closing the gap, and she backed up further.
Her back hit the dungeon wall. The Necrodancer’s smile widened ever more, pulling harshly on what was left of the skin still around it. She continued to glare at him.
But… What could she really do?
The golden bow she had found this run was on the floor next to where Dorian was laying (too still, too still, too cold, too dead dead dead dead deadeadeadeadeadeadeadeadead). She hadn’t managed to find any spells or food that would help her win the fight (and did she even want to win? If she died, maybe Dorian would be okay, maybe she could get him out).
Except…
She did have a Heart Transplant.
It wouldn’t directly save her (or Dorian. Isn’t it selfish to want to get out if that means Dorian doesn’t come back? But she really needed to get out, she was drowning, she–It wasn’t fair that this was on her, it wasn’t fair that she had to clean up her parents’ mistakes. She just wanted to shatter), but it was something.
She could kill the Necrodancer on her own terms, or at least die on them. She could pick up her dusty free will and fight.
She hooked it off of her belt, holding the heart up in a poor mockery of her own that was still floating above the Necrodancer’s head. It beat in a rhythm all its own, not following the song running its way through her ears and hollow chest. It was intoxicating, and a little bit of giddyness ran its way through her.
This might actually work.
She raised the heart, blood flowing through the gaps in between her fingers, and bit down.
Her teeth cut through the meat, the texture tough and just a little bit stringy. Blood flowed through her mouth, coating her tongue with a heavy iron taste that left her face contorting uncomfortably. She chewed through the coarse meat, the hollow parts providing some relief. The fat still coating the outside was much softer and didn’t actually taste all that bad.
She swallowed the first bite and shoved another mouthful in between her teeth. The second bite was no better than the first, and her jaw ached from such large mouthfuls. But she didn’t have time to eat it slower. She unscrewed her eyes to glare at him again; he had stopped advancing at least, and she couldn't see past the bloody hands at her mouth to know what sort of expression was on his face.
She kept chewing. She could feel blood and small chunks of meat that had made their way down her chin in the mess. The metallic taste filled her mouth and nose, clouding out any previous senses that had stayed thus far.
With one more swallow, she shoved the remaining bite of heart into her mouth. Her hands rested against her cheeks as she continued chewing, slipping slightly from the sheer amount of blood.
Her teeth cut through the final bite, tearing and shredding it until it became a paste.
She inhaled through her nose, filling it with even more blood-smell, and forced the last of the heart down her throat.
She dragged her hands down her face in an attempt to infuse some energy into herself. Any moment now the Heart Transplant would take effect and she’d be filled with renewed vigor to do what she needed to.
She imagined plunging her fingers through the Necrodancer’s eye sockets and felt a grin not so unlike his split her face. The thought of feeling his rotting skin push away under her grip as she made him hurt was exhilarating.
She paused.
She pulled her hands off of her face, waiting for the moment it took for them to come into focus in front of her eyes. There was nothing. No pins-and-needles-feeling pouring through her limbs, no rush of energy, no newfound freedom from the beat.
Just.
Nothing.
She snapped her hands in a beat.
It was the same as the one that was for some reason still pounding its way through her chest.
Her eyes rose to the Necrodancer’s. The smile that carved its way through his too-old flesh was as present as ever. He cackled, bending over at the waist to catch his breath, but maintaining eye contact with her.
“You thought that little nuisance would overpower me? ME?” He cut himself off to laugh again. “No. No of course not, how stupid of you to think that.”
Her breathing picked up, panic wrapping its way up her legs, keeping her frozen even as the rhythm still pounding in her skull flashed against her lack of movement.
“I am so much more than any of your futile little attempts to stop me.”
He stalked forwards and she couldn’t convince her feet to move. After all this time of fighting against them, they still weren’t on her side. Her mind flashed back to when he froze her, but this was all fear, not magic. It was horrible. There was no reason she shouldn’t be able to do something, anything, be helpful for once in her life instead of a burden, instead of just something to leave behind and dump on someone else.
But no, she was nothing. And she could do nothing.
And before she knew it, the Necrodancer was right in front of her. Her heart was in his hand again. He squeezed it, nails breaking through the first layer of muscle. Cadence’s eyes were trained on it, brain screaming to grab it, take it back, force it down her throat like she had with the Heart Transplant.
She didn’t notice the Necrodancer’s other hand reaching towards her, not until it hit her shoulder again. He hit the same spot he had dug his hands in before, and sparks of pain shot upwards, causing a small gasp to filter through her lips.
He pushed, nails digging in again.
Her head cracked against the cavern wall, sending stars swirling across her vision. Pain pooled at the back of her head, and she felt her legs crumple beneath her. Another push against her sent her to the ground; she must have fallen against him when she stumbled.
Her shoulders hit the ground under her, head following suit after a moment. The shapes in front of her eyes bloomed and fuzzed, swimming together in a mix of colors. She closed them, trying to bring a hand up to her face to rub at her temples, but they refused to cooperate. Pain rippled out from her back, wrapping its way to her wrists like vines, keeping them trapped at her sides even as she pushed and pushed against them.
There was movement to her left, and her eyes blinked open, squinting against the light. Blue and red and–that was the Necrodancer.
She forced herself up slightly, slowly but surely getting her arms underneath her. Her vision sharpened, his grin filling her sight as he leaned forwards. The stench of his flesh filled her senses and she leaned back to put some distance between them. Her breathing came fast and loud, muffling the rhythms still tapping in the back of her skull where her heartbeat surely would have been pounding.
Grinning, somehow wider than any before, if that was even possible (maybe she was just losing it, it had been long enough), the Necrodancer placed her heart on her chest.
Wait what?
Her mind zeroed in on it. That was her heart. That was her’s. And it was so close. She could feel the blood oozing out through her chainmail. Her mouth watered, cutting through the meat-taste from the other heart.
She needed it.
SHE NEEDED IT.
SHE NEEDED IT SO SO MUCH.
And it was right there.
Her arm came forwards, fingers splayed to reach out to grab it. She shifted roughly, weight moving to just one of her arms.
Just before she could touch it, before she could finally be whole again, she was stopped. Cold fingers were wrapped around her left wrist, squeezing tight enough to hurt.
“Ap, Ap, Ap” The Necrodancer tsked, “Not yet. I’m glad you’re so eager though, it’ll make this next part so much sweeter.”
She tore her eyes away from her heart to look at him. He was arched over her, still wearing that cloy fucking smirk. With the hand that wasn’t still wrapped around her wrist he clutched a dagger. Plain and simple, glistening against the lights hung around the chamber; it must have been the one Dorian traded out for the broadsword. A small thought ran through her brain that whatever he was going to do with it, at least it would be her father’s dagger.
That was all Cadence was able to think before pain blossomed in her chest. He had swung the dagger down and stabbed it into where she could still feel the emptiness eat away at her. The knife dug deeper, and was dragged down to make the incision bigger.
She jerked, trying to pull away, but only sent the heart rolling off of the other side of her chest. She whipped her head towards it, watching helplessly as it got further and further away. She screamed, but it came out more muffled than she wanted. She couldn’t lose it, not again. She had been so close, but now it was getting further and further away from her.
She watched a dagger come down on it, screaming louder than when she was being stabbed herself. Tears pooled in her eyes, washing the view in front of her away.
She felt something wet coat her left hand, and her eyes turned towards it. With the back of her mind still focused on her heart, she could barely focus. There was a hole in her chest, but no knife. And her hand was in it. The Necrodancer’s cold hand was wrapped over it, using her own like a shovel to widen the dagger incision. Her mind flashed back to when Eli had taught her how to use a shovel. His hand covered hers as they pushed together to uproot the pile of dirt.
“Oh Cadence, the heart is fine, see?” He waved it in front of her face, placing it delicately back on the right side of her chest. “No.” He laughed, words coated in saccharine sweetness. “You need not worry about that, dear. You on the other hand? Well…”
Wielding the dagger towards her once more, he pulled at the edges of the cavity and cut away at the edges just a bit more. She tried not to think about it, focusing too much on the somehow-whole heart still beating weakly against her. It was almost like she had it back. Her eyes closed, losing herself to the world around her. It was okay. This was okay. She had her heart. She had it. It was hers.
Then he grabbed it, taking it from her, stealing it. No, he couldn’t, she needed it. It was hers. Her eyes shot open, keeping her vision trained on it even if she couldn’t feel it anymore. His fingers were wrapped around it, and she was disgusted by how normal that was by this point. She had seen it beat beneath those claws so many times, and a small voice in her head told her that it was more at home there than in her chest.
“Oh Cadence?” He shook her heart at her like she was some kind of dog. “You are paying attention, yes? I would hate for you to be as much of a disappointment as your grandmother.”
Her gaze fell back to him, anger trying to push past the wave after wave of pain and panic that was smothering her. He was still smiling. Oh how she wanted to rip that smile right off of his face, tear into him like he tore into her.
She watched as he lifted the heart closer to that fucking grin.
She watched as he opened his mouth even wider.
She watched as he bit down. His teeth cut through it, digging in just like his nails did. She flailed for something to feel, but found herself just… empty. The sound of her own flesh tearing filled her brain. It was like all of the fight that she had been clinging to this whole time had fled (had been killed along with the bite of her heart).
She watched as he pulled it from his teeth, pulling that grin back out like it had never left.
She let her head fall back to the ground, right arm splaying out to her side. She didn’t have to watch it happen. There was no use. She couldn’t do anything anyways.
The Necrodancer's sharp claws dug into her skull as he yanked her head upwards, “You cannot avoid this by giving up, not after everything I’ve done for it.”
Her eyes locked back onto the heart (her heart) in his hand.
She watched as it came closer back towards her. A small shiver of hope ran through her, the smallest part of her, the part of her that said maybe she could still escape this all. Then she saw the bite. It was large and expansive and she could see each individual spot where each tooth had begun its tread through it. The hope was doused, smothered beneath the weight of it all.
The hand in her hair tightened its grip, and the Necrodancer shoved the heart into the hole in her chest.
She felt as his hand pushed through the edges, cold and starting. Cadence looked at it. She watched as his hand retreated back, leaving it there. She was finally back together. Finally, finally whole.
But, she wasn't.
Images of the bite echoed through her brain; she was still missing a part. He had taken one more thing from her. Her arms shook as she tried to push forwards and rip it back. She wanted to reach through his gaping maw and grab it. She wanted to put herself back together piece by bloody piece. She wanted to make him pay.
But, she couldn’t.
She could only watch.
She could only feel as the crypt’s beat still echoed through her body, pulsing, delivering her blood throughout her body like her heart should have been. She could feel as the heart shoved back in beat with its rhythm, not her own, never her own.
She thought it would be better. She thought it would all be okay when she was back together.
She was wrong.
It was worse. It was so much worse. It was proof that there was something wrong with her. Even when she was as close to whole as she had been ever since her mother died it was still wrong. It was still someone else’s. She hadn’t even gotten it back herself. The Necrodancer had given it back, shoved it through her ribs the same way he had when he took it, all that time ago.
Pain blossomed in the back of her skull. She noticed how the Necrodancer’s hands had left her hair; he must have thrown her head back to the ground when he let go.
“Goodnight, Cadence. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
Her gaze flashed back up, meeting the gash of a wide grin painting his face as he jammed the dagger through the tear in her chest. It pieced through her heart, muscles, skin, and dented against the rocks beneath her.
- - - - - -
Cadence fell to the ground and blinked up at the crypt walls around her. It was cold.
It was the starting room of zone one. She was back at the beginning.
A sob ran its way through her body, and tears pooled in her eyes. She pushed her hands against the dirt floor beneath her as she cried.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair and there was nothing she could do about it.
She stayed there, even as the rhythm urged her to move, to continue on, she stayed there, still as a statue (still a corpse).
She barely even noticed when the floor dropped out from underneath her and the wind ran up to wrap her in a hug she so desperately needed. She couldn’t ignore the boss monster in the small room she now found herself in though.
But she didn’t fight it. She couldn’t.
She couldn’t see it very well through the wash of tears blinding her vision, but the scorch that burned through her chest, matching the fire from her cries, was unmistakably that of a Red Dragon. Its fireball scorched her skin, lighting her hair on fire. It burned higher and higher, then was gone.
Her knees hit the ground as she staggered forwards after being freed from the beam of heat.
The second one blazed her back, dancing through her shoulderblades and along her spine as she screamed. It hurt so much. It was one of the worst deaths, and she would rather die by any other monster before being hit with two fireballs and no armour.
Her screams clawed their way through her throat, ripping through the skin as the fire vaporized the muscles beneath her melted skin.
Then it stopped. And everything was cold.
She blinked her eyes back to reveal the opening room. She sighed.
“I have to keep going. For Dad, for Mom, and to cut that fucking smile off of the Necrodancer’s face.”
She pushed herself up to her feet and continued on. After all, there’s no true rest while in the crypt; every beat catches up to you eventually.