Lorelai waded through the fog, thick as oil, clinging to her skin with every step. She tore at it—splashed, grappled, pierced—yet it only coiled tighter, suffocating, swallowing her whole.
Her breath hitched.
Every instinct screamed—turn back. The whisper curled around her spine, sweet and sickly, beckoning.
Run.
"Lorelai?" Van called out.
But she forced herself forward, even as her chest burned, her heart hammering like an overworked engine. Each pulse sent a fresh wave of electricity up her spine—anticipation prickling her skin like static. There's nothing to be afraid of. There's nothing—
A hiss of vapour brushed her lips, the hot steam like fire as she breathed. And if not for the fog, she could have mistaken it for surging. Laughably so. Her? An archdemon? But even an archdemon couldn't prepare her for what she saw. Nothing could. Nothing—
Fingers clenched. Fangs steaming.
A prism of shifting light swallowed her whole—reflections twisting at impossible angles. The fog slithered like phantom hands—brushing, grasping, trailing unseen fingers across her skin.
It wasn't real. It wasn't—
"Princess?" a voice croaked.
In a frantic spin, Lorelai's tail froze, her eyes refusing to register. It lay there like a ghost that refused to stay buried. He had horns that curled from his skull, a limp tail, and, most notably, looked a lot like—
She turned away. No. Her feet paced to escape. She felt the grated panel on her toes, but the corridor walls never came, no matter how far she stretched or where she walked. She wouldn't accept it. Her legs ground to a halt, unwilling, her breath catching as the voice, his voice, reached her ears.
"Lorelai? honey?"
No. No.
She clamped her hands over her ears, but the voice slithered through, curling around her senses.
It wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Then—
A touch. A gentle pull at her tail, warm, familiar—swooning her fangs—
Her feet slipped.
But what if... and like a chain that bound her, the claws of his hand solidified on her shoulder. The mist invaded against her skin, crawling beneath her clothes, wrapping her soul in a thousand whispering fingers. He rubbed her cheek, oozing a warmth—a warmth she craved, a knee-buckling need she demanded.
The voice called again. "Did I keep you waiting?" Soft. Forgiving.
Her heart clenched. She buried him and put him to rest. But weren't ArchDaemons semi-immortal? Lore shook her head. Impossible. It couldn't be… but. She knew that hand; she knew its touch. Home. Seducing her curiosity, her spine wished to twist, hoping it would be true. A stuttering breath spluttered out her lips. So long had she desired it, so long had she waited to see that regal face, his sharp crimson eyes. A smile only reserved for his princess.
Gulping her breath, a long, rushed breath Lore inhaled—the taste of that day. She bit her lip. Remember that day. Remember what she saw. Her tattered slippers squealed as she pressed against the barricade. Glistening soot peppered her soft horns, her fingers one breeze from frostbite.
"Lore, what's wrong?" said the voice, "why won't you look at me?"
A wet smear ran down her cheek, and her crimson eyes flooded. She delved deeper; the scent of crystal fire was fresh in the air, and the roar of Daemons was a vibrating echo closing in. Lore's cold body shivered in the dust fall, the hope fading as each thruster fired up, the after-burners cooking all but her. He promised. He said he would come back. But…
The hand squeezed, "I didn't want to go, you know; I didn't want to leave you."
In a burst, Lore tugged against her captor; it couldn't; she wouldn't give in. Her arms wanted to scoop into him and warm her, to tell her it was ok. To give her the thing she missed the most. To fill her unquenchable chill. He was dead, he was dead. She knew it; the realm knew it. But-
"Princess, I'm sorry." He said, "You know what I must do."
Melting her will, Lore swivelled. Those words, those cursed words. Was duty really that important?
"Why?" she shouted. "I… I waited. So long…"
The blast of roaring ships fluttering her dress, the blisters on her heel numbing. She clung her sight to the mist, her rocketing chest refusing to let it happen again. She wouldn't do it again; she was different now.
Her salty lips flooded with droplets, streaming tears replacing her reason, her shoulders shaking as she stared at the figure.
Her voice cracked. Splintered.
"...Father?"
She hugged him; she clung with every hope that died that day.
"Lore-lai", Van said, his chest trembling to regain breath.
At heart, She knew. She knew it couldn't be true.
And yet…
"Don't move", she ordered, her arms like ratted metal, her tail curled. "Don't go." She whispered.
The man awkwardly remained still, his twitching body obviously uncomfortable in her sudden embrace. She would have to explain it. Maybe even let go. But—
She squeezed the fabric, Her tattered shirt tearing like her heart, the whisper of heels clanking closer. Each step, each pace, soaking up her memory, completing and recompiling over and over. Just one more minute, one more second, just a little more.
"Sorry," she said.
"For what?"
She looked up, drooping her tail. His icy eyes were like beacons in the reflective pipes. She had troubled him, hadn't she? Her shoulders tensed, preparing for the slap she was about to get. But when a hand snatched around her waist, she gasped. Then, in a single motion, she was swooped off her feet.
"What the—" Lore yelped, her view flipping upside down.
The grated floor swayed beneath her as her narrow gaze zeroed in on his boots. She wriggled instinctively, tail snapping upward to swat his chin.
"What are you doing?" she said, her horns flooding crimson. "Put me down!"
"Stay still," Van said, his tone maddeningly calm.
The heat in her horns spread down her neck. She sputtered, squirming in his hold like a rolled-up mat.
"Stop squirming." He growled, his free hand gripping his spear as he spun toward the sound of approaching heels.
"Who's there?" he barked.
Lore froze, her mind scrambling for possibilities: who or what could it be? The sensation of her father's breath still whispered and called in the back of her mind, his embrace fresh and warm.
But then, a sharp, commanding voice shattered the haze, "Lore?" it called.
Van dropped her.
She smacked against the grated floor with a wack.
Groaning, she shot him a glare—was this becoming a habit? She wanted to smack the vampire, but on cue, Cass thrust out of the mist. The flash of green eyes glowed among mirror dust, the woman's snarky eyes inverting into worry.
"Cass? Lore said, wobbling to her knees.
She hardly had time to stand, as without saying another word, the woman snatched a hug; her smooth scales tightened enough to break something.
Lore stiffened, one hug now into another, her father's voice creeping in at the edge of her mind.
"Princess… prince…"
Shaking it away, Lore accepted the woman's arms, anything but that. She had to ignore it; it wasn't real.
"What's—" Lore cleared her throat, "…gotten into you?" she said, failing to hide the unease in her voice.
"I thought— I thought— Amara," the woman said, her blubbering words hard to make out.
Then, opposite her sister, Cassian strolled out of the fog, her arms folded, "we heard Amara had sold you."
The Aquatic woman scanned Lore up and down and shunned her sight away, the slight hue colouring her cheeks, "Guess we needn't worry."
Cass seized her in a crushing grip.
"I thought—" Her breath hitched. "I thought we lost you."
Emerald eyes locked onto crimson, flickering with something unreadable. Then, softer—
"I... may have upset Amara."
Lore froze, her blood sobering as she stared at the woman, "Cass… what did you do?"
The woman halted, her lips cemented shut, the glitter of her torn hair shining in the mist.
"She used Neurite," Cassian added, "Amara was not happy. If I didn't step in, they'd be serving snake soup in the hall."
Cass groomed her hair, her split ends freshly pulled, and her makeup leaked. Lore had felt that before, the worst thing in Amara's toolbox. But most importantly, Lore raised an eyebrow at Cassian, the thick woman without a caring scale on her skin. Her? Stepping in?
"What?" Cassian snapped. "Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"
Then, as if remembering something, she whirled on Van, stabbing a finger at his chest.
"You! You used Neurite on me, didn't you?"
Cass gripped Lore's arm, tugging her slightly, "What are you doing with him?"
Both twins sneered at Van, mist swirling, latching to hints of blue that tried to spark. Its fingers scratched Lore's skin—the group collectively cringing at the glitter.
In normal circumstances, the twins would have been duelling in a mental battle. However, watching Cassian fail to surge, her face scrunched as she pushed with everything she had; she'd guess that would have to wait till they got out.
"What steam is this?" the woman whipped, "Why can't I?"
"Voidium," Van said,
Lore jumped as he spoke, twisting to remember, yes, he was still here. Her tail tickled as she regarded him. It's not like she forgot, so why did that unnerve her? And as she met his eyes at him, a different air oozed off. Dark. Serious.
"I suspect we can't use our power here," Van added.
And if by demonstration Voidium climbed the twin's skin, the reflective dust smothered power, light and life itself. The chattering of shadows surrounded them; her breath frosted, and the voices—his calls—whispering for her attention.
She shivered; how long had they been wondering now? In fact, where were they? It was a struggle even to discern the ground she stood on. And it occurred to her she never asked. She glanced at the Monarch—the brooding man should know.
"Hey," she mouthed
Don't ask why she needed to mime it or, better yet, why looking at him was so hard. She squirmed. She needed to clear up that misunderstanding—her fangs tightened.
"Van—?" she halted as the word came out.
What was she supposed to call him? Surely, he couldn't keep to that alias forever. Lore chewed her jaw. But what was there to think about? She just had to ask him his name. What was she, a pubescent teen, stuttering to confess? Lore's fingers itched, her shoulders rising as Van's lips opened.
"Marshal," he mouthed.
She stared at the Monarch, her tail curling to read his mind.
But before she could ask—
The air shifted. The fog pressed closer.
Then—
A scream.