Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

At least the magician wasn’t glaring at him anymore.

And then Noe spotted a second man peered over the railing. He had a shock of bright orange hair and his face seemed like it was set in a perpetual frown.

Noe glanced between Vanitas and the other man. He pointed at Vanitas and asked the second man, “Are there two of him?”

The redhead scoffed, “God no, my hair wouldn’t survive two of him.”

The man on the stairs waved at Noe, “I’m Dante,” he said.  He came downstairs, extending a hand towards Noe.

Entirely on autopilot, he took the redhead’s hand and shook it, murmuring, “Noe, Noe Archiviste.” Somehow, Noe was even more disoriented than he had been a moment ago.

“Welcome to the castle,” the redhead said sardonically, waving at the mess of the living room.

“Ah, thank you, but I’m not sure if I’m welcome—”

“You opened the door, didn’t you?”

Noe was missing something, “…yes, but it was unlocked.”

Dante shook his head, “it’s always locked. If you opened it, it’s because the book let you.”

“The book told me it was Vanitas’ decision…” Noe gave the book a sideways glance.

“The book’s an asshole.”

Noe almost cracked a smile. But…he looked over at the man who might be Vanitas. He was lost in his own thoughts, pulling books haphazardly from the table and discarding them just as quickly. A pile of books was growing on the floor beside him. Was that man going to help Noe break his curse? Or would he turn Noe in? Then Noe blinked again at Dante—had he heard?

“But…did you hear me? About my curse?” Noe said, voice a hoarse whisper.

Dante reached up to place a hand on Noe’s shoulder, “He’ll find a way to break it,” he said with a confident grin. “I’ve never seen him fail.”

Something relaxed in Noe’s chest, some tension around his heart eased. Noe asked, “and you are his…?”

“He,” The magician interjected, abruptly losing interest in whatever he’d been looking for, “is my student!” 

Noe blanched. This maniac had a student?

“Technically,” Dante admitted, “I didn’t want to deal with the bullshit at the academies.” He jerked a thumb at Vanitas, “I ran into him a few years ago. He was trying to break a curse and the curse-bearer nearly killed him. I saved his ass—”

“I would’ve handled it—”

Dante shrugged, “and I’ve been here ever since. He’s a bit…loony, but he’s the best magician on the continent.”

Noe leaned closer to Dante, asking in a hushed tone, “is he really…?”

The magician shoved himself between Noe and Dante, forcing Noe’s attention back to himself.

“I am Vanitas,” he announced, pressing his fingertips dramatically on his chest. “I inherited that book and this name from The Wizard of the Blue Moon, and I am…an ordinary human being.” He said that last bit like it was a revelation. His mouth pulled into a wide, nearly feral gin and eyes shining. “So, lend me your strength, Noe!”

“No way,” Noe said in a perfect deadpan. He glanced between the wizard’s gloved hands, “hey, wait, what happened to that curse you pulled off me?”

The Magician blinked at him, cocked his head, “oh,” he said blithely, “that, I solved that already.”

“Would you just tell me—”

“Did you know that the number of curse-bearers has been increasing rapidly over the last five years?” The magician drawled, “and they’re unstable, losing control of themselves faster and faster. I do, you see, I’m a doctor of sorts.” Vanitas bustled over to the sofa and frowned at the books piled on it. He gently pulled a book out from underneath Murr, mercifully not disturbing the sleeping feline. The magician thumbed through it for a moment before thrusting it in front of Noe.

It took a moment for Noe to understand what he was seeing. He took the book from the magician’s hands, scanning the page. It was a table, drawn up in surprisingly neat handwriting for such a disorganized person, listing dates and names in a neat column. And the further down the page he read, the longer the rows became—more and more names attached to a particular date. He blinked; this page was dated to five years ago. He flipped ahead until he found a much clearer table, a simple graph that plotted the number of curse-bearers Vanitas had encountered over time.

Noe blinked up at the magician over the book, “You do realize that this data is faulty? Just showing me your notes doesn’t prove that the numbers are increasing—is there any national database—?”

“Of course not! Do you think curse-bearers would report themselves to the government? And do you think the government wants people catching on?!”

“…I see…”

The magician sighed heatedly, “If we let things stand without investigating the cause…in the not so distant future, you wizards,” he glared up at Noe from beneath his bangs, “will all be destroyed.”

He squared his shoulders, voice rising excitedly, “I mean to prevent that. I’ll do as I please, use whatever methods I choose…” his eyes narrowed, “because no matter what you people want—I will save you!”

Noe just stared at the magician for a long moment. Could that possibly be true? He eyed Vanitas warily, considering the increasingly real possibility that he was slightly mad. But…

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Noe, I’m here to treat a patient…”

“A patient?”

“A curse-bearer,” Vanitas murmured, “On the edge of losing herself…I mean to break her curse.” He gazed up at Noe, looking terribly serious. He said, “Come with me, and I’ll prove it.”

Noe frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

The magician peered curiously at Noe, “If it’s the book of Vanitas you’re after, you should come with me. Why this stubborn refusal to help?”

“…you’re right,” Noe sighed, bringing one hand to his forehead in an exasperated gesture. But the thought of spending more time with the other man made his blood pressure spike. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Vanitas exactly, it was more that…he had no barometer to read him. Noe flashed through the facets he’d seen just in the last day—the charming man who’d danced in the sky with him; The sullen, hard-eyed magician who (at best) had some scholarly interest in Noe; and this slightly unhinged, ‘doctor.’ Yesterday he had been certain that the magician was flirting with him, but maybe Vanitas was just…friendly when he felt like it.

Noe crossed his arms over his chest and finally muttered, “I suspect…I just don’t like you very much.”

The magician made a face so comically surprised that Noe had to stifle a laugh. “Whaaaaat?” Vanitas whined, “that’s impossible, I’m actually quite charming.”

“I know,” Noe grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a moody bastard,” Dante interjected.

“Quiet, Baldy,”

Vanitas’ fierce eyes flickered to Noe.

“Will you help me?” He asked. There was something terribly compelling about his tone, “don’t you want to see the power of the book for yourself?”

And then Noe’s stomach rumbled. Loudly. The room fell silent. Noe shifted from foot to foot, feeling wildly uncomfortable. He’d long since eaten the lunch that Domi had forced him to take this morning. “…I’m sorry to impose,” he said gingerly, “but do you have anything to eat?”

“Help yourself, I think we have enough to make a sandwich at least.” Vanitas gestured towards the front of the room.

Noe glanced over his shoulder, suddenly curious if he just hadn’t noticed an entire kitchen.

There was a small alcove with a tiled counter in the middle of the room. A sink was laid into it, piled high with dirty dishes. The rest of the counter space was terribly cluttered—Noe even spotted a pair of shoes in the mess.

“…uh, boss…” Dante said tentatively.

Noe understood entirely. Even if he could cook, he certainly couldn’t here.  Noe didn’t want to be rude (although it seemed like Vanitas didn’t even understand the meaning of the word), he’d already burst in and now he was asking for food.

The magician glared up at Noe, “If I feed you, will you help me tomorrow?”

“…yes.”

Vanitas made a show of rolling his eyes, “…fiiiiiine, I’ll make something.”

“Oh…” Noe’s eyes went wide. He had a sudden mental image of the magician presenting him with a bowl of slop. Noe was starving, so he’d probably eat it—no matter how unappetizing it looked. Then he imagined himself taking a bite and promptly dropping dead. “Um, Vanitas, can you…you know…”

The magician’s eyes narrowed at him, “can I what?”

“You know,” Noe made a gesture that he hoped resembled cooking, “that?”

“…what.”

“Cook!” Noe finally said, “can you cook?”

“I resent your implication,” Vanitas snorted.

The book was howling with laughter. “Shut up, you,” Vanitas grumbled. He grabbed the book and it quieted.

Noe peered quizzically at the book, asking Vanitas, “How does that work?”

“Hm?”

“The book? It stopped when you touched it.”

Vanitas closed his eyes for a moment, holding the book forward. It didn’t open, but it did start to glow faintly. The light snaked through the room and over to the makeshift kitchen. It enveloped the clutter on the counter and suddenly the entire pile was floating. Everything just hovered in the air for a moment. And then, the mess started sorting itself. Noe watched with huge, starry eyes as books flew to empty spots in the shelves, clothes flew upstairs, the shoes found their home near the front door.

“The book is sentient,” Vanitas explained, “but it’s bound to me. So, when I’m in contact with it, the book’s personality…recedes, I guess. I can feel its will, but my personality dominates it.”

Another tendril of light snaked over to the sink, enveloping the dishes. As Noe watched, the bits of food and grime just vanished, dissolving into the air somehow.

“You can rinse them,” The magician said pointedly to Noe. He set the book back on its podium and told it, “keep the spell running, I’d like the table cleared too.”

“Sure thing, quack,” it chirped.

Vanitas glared at the book, “Dante is a bad influence on you.”

“…does the book mind?” Noe asked.

“Mind what?” Vanitas said absently. He shrugged off his coat, draping it haphazardly on a dining chair. Then he took stock of the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. He opened a cabinet beneath the counter and to Noe’s relief, it was a fridge—there was fresh food.

“Well, when you’re holding it, does it mind not being…able to speak?”

“Not at all,” the magician shrugged, “it’s sentient, but it’s never been human. It doesn’t understand what it means to be trapped or confined—it doesn’t mind being a book.”  

“What is it anyway?” Noe asked. “I’ve never read about a magical item like it…What did you just do anyway? I didn’t feel you pull on the formula at all, so how—?”

“The dishes aren’t going to wash themselves,” Vanitas snapped.

Chagrined, Noe hurried over to the sink.

“Cutting board first,” the magician instructed.

Noe washed it quickly while Vanitas started pulling items out of the fridge—an onion, peppers, mushrooms, eggs, bacon…Noe’s stomach grumbled loudly again.

“Don’t rush me,” the smaller man groused. He pulled a knife from God knows where and started to dice the vegetables. “I’ll need a large mixing bowl, a smaller mixing bowl, a plate, and a spatula.”

And Noe kept washing. He wasn’t sure exactly what ‘large’ meant to Vanitas, but he grabbed the biggest bowl just to be safe. When the dishes Vanitas had requested were clean, Noe lingered beside the magician. He watched the smaller man elegantly chopping the vegetables, dicing them into almost perfectly uniform pieces.

Noe was hovering, but he couldn’t help himself. He was hungry. He peeked over Vanitas’ shoulder, “is it food? Or sweets?”

“Quiet,” Vanitas groused. Then he added, warily, “…what kind of sweets would I make with onions?”

 It was a good question, unfortunately Noe genuinely wasn’t sure. He knew people put coffee in chocolate recipes sometimes, maybe there was some desert that involved onions. But he wisely kept that thought to himself.

Vanitas shoved a plate of raw bacon at him, “take this,” then he pointed to the smaller bowl of chopped vegetables, “and that to the fireplace.” He called, “can you set up the fire? Two burners.”

For a moment, Noe thought Vanitas was talking to him.

“You know, it’s not really fair to make me help when I can’t eat anything,” the book grumbled.

“Blame the domestically challenged wizard.”

“I am not!” Noe lied.

Vanitas shot him a withering stare. He started to crack eggs into the large mixing bowl. “You’re extremely well-mannered and you have a wild guilt complex. If you could cook, you’d have offered to help already. Now take the grey frying pan on the far left and the black pan next to it, get them on the fire.”

Noe couldn’t really argue with the truth. He grabbed both pans, and when he turned back to the fire, two smaller flames burned at the front of the hearth. He placed both pans on the makeshift stove and called, “What next?”

“Put the bacon in the grey pan and don’t touch it!”

The wizard carefully laid out all nine strips of bacon. Vanitas joined him at the hearth, bringing a spatula with him. “Now, step away from the food.”

Noe couldn’t hold back a petulant look, but he left the magician to cook. He took a seat at the table beside Dante.

“So, you’re a magician?” Noe asked the redhead.

Dante made a waffling motion with one hand, “my mother was a wizard from the aristocracy, my father was just an ordinary man. When I was born without the link, her family turned their back on her—made her chose between me and the family.” He shrugged, “my father raised me on his own.”

“I—I’m so sorry,” Noe murmured, not knowing what exactly to say. Instead, he asked, “what…what does it mean to be born without a link?”

“To the Formula,” Dante clarified, “Wizards are all linked to it, everything is, but wizards have a unique connection. Usually, the children of wizards are wizards, even if one parent is human. Technically we’re called Demi-mages, but we just call ourselves magicians—mage is such an old-fashioned term. I’m not much different than a normal human, I can take a little more damage, but,” he flashed Noe a wry smile, “nothing like you guys can.”

“I didn’t realize…”

Dante shrugged, “If you haven’t met one of us, you wouldn’t know. I think it freaks wizards out—that their children might be different than them. That’s why they don’t like to talk about us.”

Noe frowned, glancing down, trying to gather his thoughts. How horrible…He’d never given much thought about what it actually meant to be a wizard. He knew that their society was hierarchical, with the aristocracy at the top. But threatening to cut ties with a daughter, shunning a grandson…Noe couldn’t imagine why they would do such a thing. Then his eyes widened.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in Vanitas’ castle anymore. He was in the courtyard behind the shop.

They were leaning against the wall circling the wide, green space. It was twilight, the sun just barely set and a bright, nearly full moon rising in the sky above them. Domi and Mina were chasing fireflies, catching them in both hands and releasing them back into the sky. It was summer, the hot day cooling into a pleasantly warm night.

The boy beside him was braiding ropes together again.  

“Say, Noe…even if there was a curse-bearer right beside you…would you still want to see the blue moon?”

Noe pulled himself violently away from that memory. He was a fool…he’d always known what the old families were like.

He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. He pressed his palms into the table, feeling the grain of the wood under his fingertips. He tapped his boots against the floor, a solid weight beneath him. Noe fiddled with a button on his cuff, another sensory trick—he was here, he was in Vanitas’ castle. He counted the sounds he heard: the fire crackling, Vanitas stirring something on the hearth, and the low, mechanical hum of the castle itself. 

“It’s always hard to be on the outside,” the redhead said, drawing Noe from his thoughts, “but I think you understand that—at least a little.”

Noe blinked curiously at him.

“How long have you been carrying that curse?”

Noe glanced away, “…as long as I can remember. The Professor—my guardian, he adopted me when I was young—he’s sure that I was born with it, but is that even possible?”

Dante nodded slowly, “it is, it’s unusual though. I’ve never seen one before. But he’s got a book on inherited curses, you’re welcome to any of the books.”

The wizard’s eyes went wide and starry, “thank you very much!”

The scent of sizzling bacon wafted through the air. Noe’s mouth watered and his eyes slid to the hearth curiously. Vanitas was using a pair of tongs to gently flip the bacon. He turned his attention to the other pan, stirring the mix of vegetables carefully and seasoning it. As if sensing Noe’s gaze, he glanced over his shoulder at the other man. He glared petulantly and called, “come help!”

“Excuse me,” Noe demurred, not exactly rushing to Vanitas, but to any distraction from his thoughts. 

Dante regarded them curiously for a long moment before he turned his attention to a book.

Vanitas had brought the cutting board over to the hearth, a stick of butter and six slices of fluffy bread piled on it.

“I need you to bring me four clean plates. And if you want tea with dinner, set up the kettle and wash three mugs.”

Noe’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a proper cup of tea. He noticed a chimney crane on the edge of the hearth, wrought iron with a hook for a pot or kettle. He spotted the kettle itself on a shelf above the sink. After he’d filled it and set it over the fire, he washed the requested dishes and brought them to Vanitas.

The magician took one of the clean plates and carefully laid the cooked bacon onto it. He moved the vegetables into the pan the bacon had previously occupied. “Noe, fetch me the griddle?” 

Noe blinked at the pans hanging from the wall. A griddle? He selected a wide, flat rectangular shaped pan and brought it to the fire.

“Swap it out for the vegetable pan. And take that to the sink—and get me the eggs!”

The wizard obeyed, although he probably shouldn’t have. If he insisted on Vanitas saying ‘please,’ maybe he could drill some manners into him.

When he returned with the eggs, Noe asked, “what next?”

Vanitas shot him a wry smile, “think you can manage buttering bread?” His tone was almost…playful. And that smile, it was a good smile, maybe a little reserved, but genuine.

Before he could hold it back, a big smile bloomed on Noe’s face. The magician’s lips twitched into a smirk that Noe recognized with a thrill. He remembered the Vanitas from yesterday, wearing that same smirk while he tugged Noe closer. Then he thought of those lips against the shell of his ear, Vanitas’ breath sending a shiver down his spine, feeling that smirk pressed into his skin.

Noe’s heart was beating a little faster suddenly. He cleared his throat, laughed, “I’ll try.”

He was too tall to comfortably lean over the fire the way Vanitas did. He knelt, taking a slice of bread and a butter knife in hand. Noe took a deep breath, stealing himself for the task ahead. Then he noticed that Vanitas was watching him instead of the food.

Vanitas’ eyes were soft, utterly guileless as he smiled at Noe. It was the kind of smile Noe would flash carelessly at a kitten or a small child. The wizard’s eyes went wide, he couldn’t fight the blush creeping up his cheeks. Of course, Vanitas noticed. His smile shifted to something a little more predatory, and obviously very pleased with himself.

Did Vanitas just enjoy seeing Noe flustered? Was he just toying with Noe to feed his own ego? Noe wasn’t sure. And that made his own smile fade. He glanced away, heart sinking.

Vanitas noticed the change and blinked, clearly puzzled. “Hey,” he said, drawing Noe’s attention back to himself, “…I’m—it’s nice that you’re…around.”

Noe’s eyes went wide again. Vanitas’ mouth twitched into a petulant frown and glanced back at the sizzling vegetables. “I mean,” the magician added, “around the stove. That bread isn’t going to butter itself.”

That was…not what Noe had been expecting. But it eased something tight in his chest. He smiled shyly at Vanitas, murmuring, “I’m glad I’m…at the stove too.”

Vanitas laughed outright.

The wizard managed to butter all six slices of bread and lay them out on the griddle to toast.

Vanitas had moved the cooked veggies back into a bowl and was carefully tending to the eggs. He’d only poured about a third of the mixture into the pan. Noe tried not to hover but…he liked watching Vanitas cook. He carefully shaped the eggs, spooning the vegetable mixture into the middle. “Noe, can you get me the cheese on the counter?”

Noe would have been embarrassed by how quickly he’d responded to Vanitas, but he was actually making progress with the magician. He returned with the cheese and was treated to the sight of Vanitas concentrating on the food like he was working some complex spell. By some trick of the spatula, he’d folded the eggs into a neat, square omelet.

The dark-haired man reached for a clean plate and two slices of toasted bread. He laid the bacon neatly on one slice, then he carefully slid the omelet on top of it. He sprinkled some extra cheese on top of the eggs and then topped it with the second slice of bread.

The wizard gravitated closer to the plate, eyes watering.

But Vanitas had other ideas, “Take this to Dante—can you make tea? It’s all in the cabinet over the counter, pick whatever flavor you like.”

Dante bristled a little at getting the first plate, “mine’ll be cold by the time you’re done!” He called to the other magician.

“Please,” Vanitas scoffed, “it’ll take five minutes. And you’ll have the meltiest cheese.”

The redhead brightened considerably.

Noe selected a blend labeled ‘decaf black tea with chamomile,’ with a picture of a crescent moon beside it. He couldn’t cook, but he could make a decent cup of tea. He measured the leaves and added them to the teapot. Then he fetched the heavy iron kettle. He caried it easily, delicately filling the teapot. Noe put the kettle back on the chimney arm, sweeping it away from the fire to cool.

When he glanced back at the makeshift stove, he saw that Vanitas had finished the second sandwich and was carefully stirring the last of the eggs into the pan. Noe brought three mugs to the table along with the teapot. After a quick search, he found a small pitcher in what was apparently the china cabinet and filled it with cream. He couldn’t find anything as suitable for sugar, but he settled for a shallow bowl.

“Vanitas?”

“Hmm?”

“Sugar?”

“Next to the fridge, glass jar—it’s labeled,” he snickered, “Dante kept mixing up the salt and the sugar.”

“They look exactly the same!” Dante insisted in his own defense, “Not everyone has your discerning palate, master,” a heavy spin of sarcasm on that last word.

Noe blanched at the prospect of having a chef worse than himself in the house. But he quickly located the jar of sugar tucked between a sack of half spilled potatoes and a bag of rice. He filled the shallow bowl, grabbed a few spoons, and brought everything to the table.

Vanitas reached the table at the same time as Noe. He set the two plates on the same side of the table, opposite Dante. Noe hesitated for half a heartbeat—Vanitas wanted to sit next to him? And quashed down the warm feeling that flooded his chest at that thought. He deliberately took his seat, resolving not to read too much into anything Vanitas did.

The magician sat down beside him. His eyes flickered between Noe’s longer arms and the teapot in front of the wizard. Vanitas inched his chair a little closer to Noe’s, fixing him with that suspicious, nearly petulant frown he slipped so easily into.

“How do you like your tea?” Noe asked, glancing sideways at the man beside him.

Vanitas blinked owlishly, taken aback for a moment. He covered it quickly, smirking at Noe, “guilt complex much?”

“You cooked,” the wizard said shyly, “it’s the least I can do.”

“…lots of cream, and a little sugar.” Vanitas’ lips pursed, he glanced down at the table, grumbling, “I like coffee in the mornings, I take it black. But for lunch, tea with lots of cream and sugar.” His blue eyes flickered up to Noe, gauging the other man’s reaction.

“I’ll remember,” Noe said, flashing Vanitas an easy smile.

The magician’s expression shifted, the seemingly perpetual sarcasm draining away for a moment. He looked so taken aback by that small act of kindness. Vanitas glanced away again, something almost shy about the motion. It really was the least Noe could do, the only things he could make were tea and coffee. And…he liked knowing more about Vanitas. He felt like the magician already knew so much about Noe. He placed a mug in front of Vanitas and found that he couldn’t look away—he had to know if the magician liked it.

Vanitas pointedly did not look over at Noe as he took a small sip. He brightened, so pleased he practically glowed.

Noe sighed, mind pleasantly flooding with relief.

“This is enough,” he took a deeper sip. Then he glanced up at Noe.

At first, Vanitas had been absently licking his lips. But then his blue eyes met Noe’s, and Noe watched the magician realize that Noe had been staring at him. And then Vanitas’ eyes narrowed, blazing with an almost predatory glee. He ran just the tip his tongue along his bottom lip.

Vanitas wasn’t breaking eye contact, and Noe...Noe was frozen.

This was…this was beyond him. His heart was racing, and his face was very, very hot. Noe felt the strangest sensation flutter through his stomach, like he’d swallowed a swarm of butterflies. Although, not beyond Vanitas. The dark-haired man was smirking at him again. This must be what all those little birds had felt just before Murr pounced.

An odd, gasping sound from across the table drew their attention.

Dante was choking.

Noe raced around the table, yanking him upright and pressed firmly into his sternum. In a heartbeat, he angled Dante away from the table as he spat out a hunk of food. The redhead took a frantic gulp of air.

Noe patted him gently on the back, “you okay?”

Dante gasped, “holy shit,” but he nodded.

When Noe sat back down, he avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. His face still felt warm. His shoulders tensed suddenly, although he wasn’t sure why. Then he had to bodily resist the urge to look back at Vanitas and gauge his expression. That was it, he was expecting Vanitas to laugh. He wasn’t entirely sure why such a reaction would bother him…he suspected that Vanitas enjoyed how flustered he made Noe feel. But enjoying Noe’s reactions was very different than outright laughing and making a joke of it.

“…sorry,” Vanitas mumbled, although Noe wasn’t sure if he was apologizing to Dante or to the wizard, “I got carried away…”

Noe resisted the urge to sigh. Per usual, that clarified nothing.

The redhead attacked his sandwich, chewing very, very loudly. “This is good,” he said, mouth full and slurring his words.

“Chew with your mouth closed,” Vanitas feigned outrage, “we have company!” He took a delicate bite of his own sandwich and shrugged, “it’s alright.” Then he glanced appraisingly at Noe, “You haven’t even tried yours yet!”

The wizard finally let his eyes slide sideways to Vanitas. He was teasing, mercifully breaking the lingering tension. His lips tugged into a petulant frown, his eyes were sparkling with cheer and the corners of his mouth kept twitching upwards. Noe felt the tension in his back ease as he reached for the sandwich.

Before he could take a bite, Vanitas chirped, “if you aren’t nice, I’ll take back what I said and charge you for the room.”

“What?!” Noe squawked indignantly, “when did you say that!”

“Before, when I said, ‘this is enough’ about the tea.”

“How was I supposed to know what you were talking about?” Then Noe thought of a second, equally important question, “you were going to charge me?!”

“I still might if you don’t make with the compliments.”

Noe made a disgruntled sound and turned back to his sandwich with a haughty sniff. He took a bite. It was amazing. He glanced back at Vanitas with huge, starry eyes.

“I take it back, stop staring at me like that! Point your abnormally large eyes elsewhere, wizard.”

“You’re an incredible cook,” Noe said, beaming openly.

Vanitas harumphed and went back to his own sandwich.

The rest of dinner was far more relaxed. Noe asked Dante more about himself, while Vanitas interjected occasionally with good natured quips. The most startling thing he’d learned was that Dante was only eighteen.

Noe had tried to politely hide his surprise, but Vanitas laughed outright.

He pointed at Dante, cackling, “I told you that if you frowned like that, your face would get stuck!”

“Shut up, quack,” the other man grumbled.

After he took the last bite of his sandwich, Noe murmured, “thank you very much for dinner, Vanitas.”

“…you’re welcome…depending on how your coffee is.”

Noe laughed, standing to collect the dirty dishes and bring them to the sink. Before he could however, he realized that Murr was awake and glowering at him. “Say, Vanitas, do you have anything a cat could eat?”

“I draw the line at cooking for your cat!”  

“Vanitas…” Noe groaned. He waved at Murr, “yes, yes, hold on a minute.” Then he got the plates together anyway, worst case he could give Murr some of the extra bacon from Vanitas’ left-over sandwich—although he had a terrible feeling that eating leftovers would wound the cat’s pride.

“What do cats even eat anyway?”

“Meat, fish…” Noe fumbled there, not entirely sure what else cats should eat, “…carnivore things.”

Dante suggested, “there’s some canned tuna in the pantry, Vanitas hates the stuff.”

“Thank you very much!”

Noe found said tuna and a bowl, serving Murr about half of a can. He told the cat not to get used to it, before starting on the dishes. At some point, he heard music fluttering through the room, a wistful, sweet sounding instrumental track. He glanced over his shoulder back at the room and noticed an old-fashioned phonograph on the far side of the hearth. It didn’t take him long to finish, most of the dishes just needed a rinse. He got the pans into the sink to soak and finally felt marginally less guilty about being cooked for.

Vanitas and Dante were still at the table, reading by candlelight. Noe felt a little awkward about intruding, but no one seemed to mind when he flopped onto the couch. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until the thrill of actually being in Vanitas’ castle wore off. He was content to just enjoy the music and the fire while he absently pet Murr.

The sound of wood scrapping on wood jolted him awake. Noe blinked at the grandfather clock wedged between bookshelves—it was nearly midnight. He tried to figure out what had made that horrible sound. Then he realized it was Vanitas getting up from the table.

The magician smirked at Noe and withdrew into his coat, looking like a smug, oversized bat for a moment. “I’m tired,” he announced, “goodnight.” And turned on his heel toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Noe called, “you never told me what that curse was!”

Vanitas paused on the stairs, glancing over his shoulder with a bemused smile, “Ah, that…it wasn’t a curse, Noe. It was a blessing.”

“A what?”

“Goodnight Noe…” he teased, that brat even had the nerve to wave.

The wizard frowned, watching the other man disappear upstairs. He glanced over at Dante and only got a shrug in response.

“I’ll show you the spare room?”

“Thank you very much,” Noe said, grateful for both the promise of a bed and the decorum.

“Alright, you get to pick one more story…”

“The story of Vanitas!” Noe squealed.

The other boy sighed, making a show of pressing one hand against his forehead. “Not this again, Noe.”

A peel of thunder rumbled outside. The heavy drapes were drawn, but they did little to muffle the sound of rain slapping against the windows. Domi and Noe were cuddled in the middle of Louis’ bed, propped up by a mound of pillows. Neither of them liked sleeping alone during thunderstorms—even if they tried sleeping separately, they would inevitably end up crawling into Louis’ bed at some point during the night. Louis was sitting in a chair close to the bed, smiling softly at his siblings.

“It’s perfect for spooky nights!” Domi insisted.

Defeated, Louis grabbed a small throw blanket and draped it around his shoulders. The story began as all good fairytales did.

“Once upon a time, in a certain place…there lived a hated wizard known as ‘Vanitas.’ Wizards are ordinarily born on the night of full moon. For some reason, Vanitas was born on the night of a blue, full moon, a symbol of misfortune.”

“Have you ever seen a blue moon?” Noe chirped.

Louis smiled. There was always a secretive quality to his smiles. They always made Noe wonder if Louis was smiling because he was supposed to, or because he wanted to. “No, Noe, you know how grandfather feels about them.”

The other boy pouted, glancing longingly at the covered window. “But if we just look once, he won’t even—”

“Of course, he’ll know, Noe,” Louis muttered, “he knows everything.”

“Besides,” Domi squeaked, tugging the covers up under her chin, “we’ll be cursed if we look at it!”

“That’s silly, Domi, the moon turns red when a wizard is cursed. How could a blue moon—”

Louis cleared his throat loudly. The other two children quieted, wearing matching, sheepish smiles.

“Everyone was afraid of Vanitas,” Louis continued. He had a wonderful voice for storytelling, always slipping into a low, almost hypnotic tone, “and they ran him out of the village. Vanitas was all alone in the forest. Frightened of the darkness, freezing in the snow, he wondered and wondered. And in his heart of hearts, he swore vengeance upon them.”

He pulled the blanket up over his head, clutching it around his neck like it was a cloak. “Foolish wizards who persecuted me!” Louis said gruffly, trying to act the part, “when this book is opened, a curse more terrible than death will befall you...”

Domi yawned sleepily and burrowed deeper into the pillows, “now tell us the one about the princess and the frog?”

“I said one more story!”

“But, Louis, we can’t end with a scary story…” Noe flashed the older boy his biggest, puppy dog eyes.

Louis rolled his eyes, rather fondly, before sighing, “Once upon a time…”

Noe woke with a start. For a long a moment, he was completely disoriented. He almost thought that he was still six years old, sharing a bed with Domi and Louis. He’d even looked at the empty spots on the bed to his left and his right, wondering why they hadn’t woken him up.

That dream…he didn’t dream about Louis often. But when he did, the dreams were usually true memories jumbled around and set in unusual places. Noe didn’t even have to wonder why he was thinking of Louis so often lately.

He slipped out of bed and padded over to the window. To his surprise, he had an incredible view of Auvignon. The castle must have moved in the night, because they were perched on the hill overlooking the town. The curse-bearer Vanitas was meeting had been in Auvignon the whole time?

He got dressed quickly, desperate for a good cup of tea to settle his nerves. The dream had left him with a lingering sense of unease. As soon as he stepped into the stairwell, he smelled something delicious.

Vanitas was cooking.

He hurried downstairs, brightening considerably.

The living room looked terribly cozy. Sunlight streamed through the window above the kitchen alcove, casting a lattice shaped shadow. Little dust motes floated in the air, visible only in that bright light. It reminded Noe of the Professor’s library in the morning, of cozy days spent there reading with Domi and Louis. Vanitas was leaning over the fire, managing several pans at once, while Dante read through a newspaper.

Vanitas glanced up from the food, grousing, “coffee?” He pointed at the tea kettle over the fire, steam rushing from the spout. He looked like he was still half-asleep, rubbing at his bleary eyes. Noe was struck by how…young he looked. Without his smirk and that feral gleam in his eyes, he just seemed softer.

The wizard grinned, nodding. He hurried to the kettle, nodding towards Dante, “good morning.”

“Morning, sleep alright?”

“This place is wonderful,” Noe murmured. The room was cozy, the bed incredibly comfortable…if not for that dream, it would have been a pleasant night.

He took the kettle over to the alcove, checking in the top cabinets for something to actually make coffee with. If he was going to be staying, he needed to organize this place. He finally found a French press and a jar of coffee beans.

“Vanitas, where’s the coffee grinder?”

“Fridge,” came the grumbled answer.

Noe sighed. He found a hand grinder placed neatly on the upper shelf of the fridge. He called to Dante, “Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please.”

The wizard measured the beans into the grinder. When the beans were ground just finely enough, he spooned them into press, then filled it with water. He made Earl Grey for himself.

As the drinks steeped, Noe went over to the hearth and tapped the magician gently on the shoulder, “do you need anything?” 

The dark-haired man blinked owlishly up at him.

Noe froze, wondering if perhaps he’d overstepped himself. But Vanitas didn’t look angry at all. He just looked startled again, as if he were so unaccustomed to small kindnesses that he froze. Noe liked Vanitas like this. And that thought made his heart flutter, although he didn’t know why. Vanitas looked…sort of guileless. It was like he hadn’t put on his armor yet.

“…three plates, one bigger plate. Then can you set the table? Forks…you know.”

The wizard grinned and nodded.

Vanitas weakly shielded his eyes with his hand, “not so brightly…I should have known you were a morning person.”

They fell into the same, easy rhythm they had last night. Noe fetching things for the magician, darting back and forth. He set the table, including a pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar for their drinks.

“Noe?”

He came up to the hearth beside Vanitas and had a plate of food shoved in his hands. The magician had made scrambled eggs, with bits of diced pepper and sausage. Beside the eggs was a pile of diced potatoes, perfectly browned with onions and more red pepper. There was a neat stack of sliced, fried tomatoes, edges neatly crisped. Vanitas had set one larger plate, piled with toasted slices of baguette, to the side for Noe to take.

“Vanitas….” Noe breathed, his eyes flickered from the food to the unimpressed magician, “You’re an incredible cook! Thank you so much!”  

The magician made a show of shielding his eyes again, waving Noe towards the table with a grunt.

He took it to the table, setting it in front of Dante. Then he rushed back to take the other two plates from Vanitas. He set Vanitas’ plate at the table with a little faux-bow that made the magician’s lips twitch upwards. Vanitas even let Noe push in his chair for him.

Noe set his own plate beside Vanitas’ again. Then he hurried to pour Vanitas a cup of coffee, sliding it over to him. Noe tried not to focus on Vanitas’ reaction, he instead asked Dante, “How do you like your coffee?”

“Cream, no sugar,” Dante said, glancing up from his newspaper with a knowing smile, “it seems like you make a damn good cup of coffee.”

Noe’s eyes flickered over to Vanitas. The magician looked incredibly pleased. Noe went back to pouring drinks. He pushed Dante’s across the table carefully, then made his own.

Dante sighed happily, “This really is amazing.”

After the wizard made his own drink, he set it aside and attacked his plate. The food tasted even better than it looked. Noe reached for the bread and started making little open-faced sandwiches. After scarfing down three, he noticed Vanitas watching him over the rim of his mug.

Vanitas smiled at him. He already looked more awake, eyes sharper. But there was something peaceful and pleased in his gaze, and that made Noe’s heart skip a beat. “I knew you’d be a breakfast person.”   

It only lasted a moment, but Noe smiled back. And in the hazy morning sunlight, it felt like they were the only people in the world. Vanitas flushed, and Noe caught it before the magician could hide behind his coffee. Noe grinned and dropped his gaze to his plate.

He glanced at Dante, suddenly self-conscious, but the redhead was reading the paper while he ate—seemingly oblivious to whatever might have just happened.

He cleared his throat, “so, this patient of yours is in Avignon?”

“Correct,” Vanitas chirped. He nibbled delicately on a piece of toast. There was something almost feline about his disaffected attitude towards everything he did. “That’s why I was in town, you see…surveying for organic causes.”

Noe cocked his head, “organic causes? Do those exist?”

The magician nodded, sipped at his coffee. He said, “there are cursed places, even cursed objects that are so potent and so virulent that they’ll affect even the people around them.”

“Did you find any of that?”

The dark-haired man shook his head.

“So, someone must have cursed her?”

Vanitas hid behind his mug again, eyes downcast, demeanor suddenly shifting. “The increase in curse-bearers is not because wizards are spinning more curses…in the same way cursed objects effect creatures around them, there are cursed…entities.”

Noe’s eyes went wide, “I don’t understand, what—what kind of entities?”

“…it’s hard to explain, but…you’ll see.”

Somehow Vanitas managed to sound terribly ominous and utterly casual.

The wizard reached for his own tea.

“So, who are we looking for?”

“A miss Amelia Ruth,” Vanitas said brightly.

“Amelia Ruth?!”

The Magician cocked his head at Noe and nodded.

“That’s impossible,” Noe insisted, “I know her, she works at the bookshop. She isn’t cursed, I would have noticed...wouldn’t I?”

Vanitas shrugged, “has anyone ever noticed your curse?”

“…just you and that witch,” Noe said slowly. He blinked over at Vanitas, “did Miss Amelia really write you?”

The magician snorted, “I’d show you her letters, but that would be a violation of patient confidentiality. We’ll go after breakfast.”

It didn’t take long for Noe and Dante to polish off most of the food. Vanitas, seemingly not a breakfast person, had nibbled on a few slices of baguette and picked at his own plate. Dante offered to clean up, so Noe and Vanitas prepared to head out.

As Noe shrugged into his coat and gloves, he noticed a curious color wheel hanging on the wall beside the door. It was divided into slices of black, white, red, green, and blue. The arrow on it pointed to the black wedge. There was a small dial of matching colors laid into the wood of the door, just above the knob. He glanced back into the living room for Vanitas. He found the wizard clipping the book to his belt, the clip itself hidden at the small of his back. The magician slipped into his coat and strode over to Noe.

“Vanitas, what is that?” He asked, pointing towards the wheel.

“Ah,” Vanitas said, lips twitching into that characteristic smirk, “that is a translocation locus.”

Noe’s eyes widened quizzically.

“It binds that door to multiple physical locations. Each color is assigned to a different path.” He turned the dial on the door to white and the larger wheel above the door spun to white. “The white path is special, though. If I do this—” Vanitas traced a sigil in the air just above Noe’s forehead. Then he traced the same symbol over the doorknob. “—the door will open to the place you consider home.”

The wizard’s eyes went comically wide as his breath hitched, “But how? Wouldn’t you have to at least bespell the shops door?”

Vanitas’ smile widened, “Usually, but a one-way trip will work. Just open the door and think of home.”

That didn’t really answer the question of, ‘how,” but Noe pushed his doubts aside and opened the door. A flash of light blinded him for a moment.

He heard Vanitas call back, “take care of the place!”

“You got it quack,” Dante snicked, “good luck, Noe!”

“Thank you very much,” Noe said, waving back at the redhead

Noe hesitated, wary of that bright light, but Vanitas gave him a push.

They stumbled onto the front steps of the bookstore. Vanitas closed the door behind him, and Noe did a doubletake—they really were back at the shop in Auvignon.

“That’s incredible, Vanitas!” Noe gasped, marveling at the magician for the second time in the span of an hour, “does it work both ways?”

Vanitas shrugged off the compliment, walking confidently down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Noe followed, a half step behind the wizard. “It’ll be trickier to get back,” Vanitas admitted, “we can’t use that same path. The white door can create a link between the castle and the destination of the person opening the door. But it’s a one-way path,” he glanced over at Noe, “it seems like you grasp the basics of the theory, but…why don’t you understand the mechanics of anything?”

Noe had been dreading this question. The truth was always embarrassing. “It’s—um—I,” he fumbled with his words, mind racing for a reasonable answer, “…whenever I try pull on the formula too hard it—my curse reacts poorly to it.”

“Define poorly.”

The taller man sighed, “It…it’s like it triggers the curse. It—I start craving it—”

“You mean blood?”

Noe gasped and shushed the magician, “Someone might hear you!”

“…you care way too much about what other people think,” Vanitas said, frowning at Noe. “You know—well, you probably don’t—but wizards do use sanguine magics. It all happens behind closed doors, and you certainly wouldn’t speak openly about it, but it’s not exactly rare, Noe.”

“But…doesn’t—don’t those kinds of magics corrupt wizards?”

Vanitas shrugged, “it’s more common to use blood for a particular spell or reversion, it is dangerous to play with it long term. But it’s not like your condition has gotten worse over the years,” the magician flashed him a terribly knowing smile, “has it?”

Noe glanced down at the sidewalk, tugging at his gloves. He shook his head.

“Compulsions are far more taboo, but they won’t get you a death sentence—do you know why that is, Noe?”

Frowning, the taller man thought for a moment before venturing, “anyone can drink, but not everyone can pull of a proper compulsion spell.”

Vanitas flashed him a pleased smile, “correct.  So, why not just have a sip? You don’t need to drain a person dry to satisfy it, do you?”

The wizard looked scandalized, “of course not! It…I only need to drink once a month. I can skip one, but…if I miss two months in a row, the cravings get worse.”

“You’re so uncomfortable with it,” Vanitas said, voice a little puzzled.

“Any sane person would be,” Noe mumbled.  

“So, you’re entirely untrained?”

Noe nodded, head hanging low. He said, voice low, “the only thing I can do are gravity reversions—I don’t know why, but they don’t trigger it.”

“There’s a new magical theory floating around about the links binding us to the World Formula. Some scientists theorize that the links themselves are comprised of individual strands of energy. They think that certain revisions tug at specific threads, without activating others.” Vanitas’ voice filled with an almost manic energy, “so, maybe however your curse has warped your link, hasn’t effected the strings that let you revise gravity.”

“…individual strands?”

“Yes, impossibly small and impossible to untangle with the technology we have now. But imagine in the future, knowing exactly what combination of energy produces a particular revision,” he glanced sideways at Noe, “maybe there are other reversions you could use without triggering—”

“No,” Noe said sharply, “no way.”

Vanitas burst into a peel of laughter, “so serious, I’ve never heard you sound so firm on something!”

Noe stopped abruptly, crossing his arms over his chest, “I am serious, Vanitas. No.”

The magician glanced over his shoulder at the taller man. The smile on his face faded into a puzzled frown, “…what are you not telling me?”

He shook his head stubbornly, “no.” He met Vanitas’ gaze, sighing “please drop it.”

For a moment, Noe was sure Vanitas wouldn’t listen to him. Those blue eyes narrowed, studying Noe like they could see straight through him. Noe glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. There was something peculiar about Vanitas. Whatever it was, it made Noe feel terribly at ease with the magician sometimes. But he was forcibly reminded that he didn’t really know Vanitas. He was learning about the fronts that Vanitas put on, but he’d only caught brief glimpses of the real man beneath the façade. And Vanitas didn’t really know him either.

Noe hated that curse, he hated having to drink blood. Most of all, he hated the memories. Without the flood of foreign memories, maybe the curse wouldn’t have been so difficult. But he was an Archiviste, the memories would flow, no matter what he wanted. Invading someone’s mind like that was such a violation…Noe would never feel comfortable with it. The only people he’d ever drunk from were Louis and Domi. Despite how familiar he was with Domi’s mind, every time he drank, he saw something new. He fell completely into her memories, his own ego entirely dissolving into the blood. Coming back to himself was always frightening, by far the worst part.

He couldn’t afford to meddle with reversions, not when it might trigger the cravings.

But Vanitas couldn’t possibly suspect why Noe was so unsettled. The Archiviste clan had died out such a long time ago.

Finally, the magician flashed him a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, but he’d plastered it on anyway. “Sure thing, we’re almost there anyway.”

Noe frowned, “almost where?”

Vanitas whirled around and started walking without Noe.

Still feeling unsettled, Noe trotted after him. An awkwardness hung between them now. Before Noe could say anything, Vanitas turned down a narrower side street.

A street Noe recognized.

“How do you know where she lives?” Noe asked, eyeing the magician suspiciously.

Said magician huffed, “because she gave it to me, in the letter that she sent asking for my help.”

Vanitas stopped at a rowhome with a bright purple door. He knocked twice.

A muffled, sweet-sounding voice called, “Coming!” And then Amelia Ruth opened the door with a smile. Her expression froze, eyes going wide when she saw Noe. She looked terrified. One hand flew over her heart as she gasped, “Noe?”

“Miss Amelia, please don’t worry, I’m here to—”

“He,” Vanitas interrupted, “is my assistant. You have my assurance of full confidentiality.” He breezed inside, gently pushing past his patient.

“Ah, I apologize for him,” Noe murmured, inclining his head apologetically towards the young woman. “May we come in?”

That frightened look faded from her eyes, but she still looked wary. In fact…she looked exhausted. Huge dark circles lined her eyes. They had a dull, haggard look to them. Yesterday she had looked fine, maybe a little tired, but now—she looked profoundly sick. Despite that, she still offered him a small smile and ushered him inside.

Amelia led them into the living room, beckoning them to sit. “Can I get you anything, tea, or something?”

Noe asked, “a glass of water, please?”

She nodded brightly and bustled into the kitchen. Noe glanced around the house, he’d walked Amelia home many times, but he’d never actually been inside. It was an old building, with exposed support beams studding the ceiling. The room still managed to look bright, with wide, old windows facing the street. The entire floor had a very open feeling, there were no full walls dividing the space into individual rooms. From his seat, he could see straight through the kitchen. A fridge, oven, and a sink lined one wall, separated from the living room by a wooden counter.

And past the kitchen, there was a separate dining area with a spacious, table made from honey colored wood. Noe spotted a fireplace with a red bricked mantle on the wall opposite the dining table. There was another cozy seating arrangement around the fireplace. The walls along the fireplace were lined with bookshelves. A pair of French doors on the back wall led into a small yard and let sunlight flood the space. A stairway to the second floor lined the wall opposite the kitchen, painted white and with a mahogany banister.

“You have a beautiful home, Miss Amelia,” Noe called to her, “I didn’t realize that you lived alone.”

She rounded the island dividing this space from the kitchen, carrying a silver tray with three glasses and a pitcher of ice-cold water. “Thank you!” She beamed, “I usually rent out two of the rooms upstairs. It was my mother’s house,” she shrugged self-consciously, “It’s too big for just one person.”

Amelia poured a glass for each of them. Noe took his gratefully, throat dry from nerves—although he tried to push them down.

Vanitas cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention to him. “Miss Ruth…I’d like to discuss your condition—it looks serious.”

Her eyes flickered to Noe as her fingers tightened around her glass. She gave a shuddering laugh, “do I look that bad? I use so much makeup to hide it now.”

“It’s the eyes,” Vanitas murmured, “Every curse-bearer I’ve treated has had the same peculiar dark circles, same shape, same shade. Once it gets to this stage…”

Amelia fidgeted, anxiously avoiding eye contact.

“I’m a curse-bearer too,” Noe admitted, earnest gaze on Amelia.

She startled, blinking curiously at him, “…is that why you’re with Mr. Vanitas?”

“Just Vanitas is fine,” the magician interrupted.

Amelia dropped her gaze to the floor. She took a long sip of water before setting the glass down. She tugged the shawl she wore, clutching it tightly around her neck. “At first…I thought it was just a cold. I would be freezing, even in the middle of summer. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake off that chill. And then I started having dreams—nightmares, about…it’s always the same dream. I’m in a beautiful field on a sunny, bright day. But then vines, briar vines, start growing out of the ground around me. They start to surround me in thorns, like a cage, and they blot out the sun. And then the vines start closing in around me…”

She looked up at Vanitas, eyes wide and frightened, “I started breaking things, just passing by a plate would shatter it—I don’t even have to touch something…but I swear, I’ll see one of those briar’s lash out at it before it breaks.” Her voice was strained and high, “it’s getting worse.”

Vanitas nodded slowly, “…have you seen anyone unusual around, someone you didn’t recognize? Maybe in a dream?”

“I…I don’t understand? I haven’t met anyone new, and I only have that same dream,” her voice broke, “every night.”

She stood and started pacing the room, eyes focused on the floor, she asked, “Have you…experienced anything like that before?”

“…that’s how this type of curse typically presents, but…”

“But what?” Noe asked.

Vanitas glanced sideways at him, “all of the curse-bearers I’ve treated like this,” his voice was hushed, “they’ve all seen Charlatan.”

“What—what is Charlatan?” Noe asked in the same low tone.

“…a parade of horrors,” Vanitas was staring hard at Amelia.

At the word, ‘Charlatan,’ she’d gone pale, skin nearly ashen and her eyes were wide and terrified. She was taking shallow breaths, gasping them down as if she couldn’t get enough air.

“Miss Amelia,” the magician said, “I need you to draw from the source.”

Her eyes went even wide, “but that—” her voice dropped to a hoarse murmur, “—that makes it worse.”

Vanitas rose to his feet, moving towards the trembling woman. Amelia shook her head and backed away from Vanitas, hiding deeper into the room. She leaned against the stairwell; her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Did you see Charlatan?”

Amelia shook her head, “I can’t remember,” her voice was dazed, eyes hazy.

Vanitas pointed to a decorative pillar candle on the kitchen island, “Miss Ruth, can you try to light that?”

She stretched a hand towards the candle, brows drawn as she concentrated. Noe felt her pull on the formula. Amelia Ruth started crying. Something was terribly wrong. Her tears were black, staining her cheeks. She wailed, hunching forward and clutching at her chest.

Noe felt something shift in the air, raising goosebumps along his arms and setting the hairs at the back of his neck on end. He was on his feet in an instant, running across the room to her.

A vine materialized from her hand, lashing at the candle and slicing it in half. The vine extended, twining around her arm and racing up her throat—thorns catching her skin.

Thin tendrils of briar vines started to grow around Amelia, they burst through the wooden floor with a terrible snapping sound. She looked up at Noe in horror and tried to reach out to him. She opened her mouth to scream—vines poured out from her throat. Each small thorn splattered with blood.

Vanitas snatched Noe back, holding him close, eyes fixed on the curse-bearer.

Amelia stumbled back into the room, the vines forming a cage around her. They were in constant, frantic motion, lashing wildly around her. They split the heavy wooden dining table in half. The French doors behind her shattered, sending glass shards flying.

Noe watched the briars grow thicker around her. “What is that?” Noe breathed in horror.

“Not sure,” Vanitas said casually, “I’ve never seen a manifestation exactly like this before…”

He stared at the magician. Vanitas looked…completely at ease, not even the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. He seemed exhilarated.

Noe snapped, outrage clear in his voice, “help her!”

A low, groaning sound drew Noe’s attention away from the magician. The floor around Amelia started to warp and fissure again, the wood splintering. An inhuman shriek filled the room.

“Give me a minute,” Vanitas said, tone as sharp as Noe’s, eyes sparkling with curiosity. One vine lashed at the floor, just inches from where he stood. A thorn caught Vanitas’ cheek, leaving a long, red cut. The magician didn’t even flinch. Noe’s eyes blew wide. Even with blood dripping down his face, Vanitas seemed oblivious to the danger and to Amelia’s agony. Noe couldn’t tolerate it a second longer. But he had no idea how to reach the woman through that field of thorns. The vines caging her nearly obscured her from Noe’s sight.

“Stop it!” Noe yelled, whirling on Vanitas. What was wrong with him? That poor woman was…his gaze flickered between what had been Amelia Ruth and the magician.

Vanitas’ face lit up, eyes shining and grinning from ear to ear. He gasped, “have you finally decided to help me?”

Something above them creaked, Noe’s eyes snapped to the ceiling in time to see it collapsing above them. He grabbed Vanitas, slinging him under one arm as easily as he picked up Murr. He dashed back to the front of the room, setting Vanitas on his feet and moving in front of the smaller man.

“No!” Noe glanced over his shoulder at the magician to yell, “that’s it, I am not helping you, you’re helping me!”

Vanitas burst out laughing. He chirped, “Brilliant! I knew it.” He had the nerve to pat Noe on the shoulder, and the worst part was that his smile seemed entirely genuine. “You really are interesting, aren’t you?”

A chunk of plaster the size of Noe was hurling towards them. He grabbed Vanitas and leapt over it, easily ten feet in the air. When he landed, he noticed Vanitas staring at him. The rather cynical magician looked a little awed.

“You didn’t even use a reversion, did you?” 

Noe put Vanitas down, eyes on the demon. She was all the way across the room, past the pile of debris that was formerly the ceiling. Those thorny briars lashing around her. He had to get closer to her, he certainly couldn’t keep dodging debris and vines for long. “I said I had trouble with them,” Noe muttered.

“…who are you? You did that without any magic, you must be an aristocrat or—”

“I’m an orphan,” the wizard said sharply, “I don’t know, and now is not the time!” Another piece of debris was rushing at them. Noe pushed Vanitas behind him and blocked it with his arm. The bit of wall cracked against his arm and fell harmlessly to the floor. His body effortlessly absorbed all that kinetic energy.

“Veeery interesting,” Vanitas stage whispered.

“Will you shut up and do something!” Noe shouted.

There’s nothing you can do. Not one single thing.

Noe froze. He hadn’t thought about that for a long, long time. This was a memory he hated, one he forced himself not to replay. But for a moment, he remembered that boy’s bitter smile.

“Noe!”

He snapped back, eyes barely catching the thorny vine lashing towards him. He instinctively covered his head. Noe couldn’t dodge that. He braced for the impact, but instead, saw a dim glow at the edge of his vision. The room was suddenly very quiet.

Noe blinked up and saw the tentacle suspended in the air, caged in blue light.

Vanitas thrust the book forward as if it were a sword. Noe snapped his eyes to the demon in the corner. She was frozen, Noe glanced back at Vanitas in awe. The magician said, “watch this,” and flashed Noe a nearly feral grin.

The book was glowing faintly. It was floating, suspended in the air just above the palm of his hand. The latch on the cover unlocked itself with a delicate click. The book opened, light practically spilling out of it.

In the face of that light, the briars lashing around the room stilled. The cage of thorny vines around Amelia froze.

The magician strode forward, undaunted by thorny briars. They started to break down, dissolving entirely as he passed them. Noe watched, eyes wide and heart racing.

Amelia screamed, black tears still rolling down her cheeks. But as Vanitas got closer, she grew still. Her chest was heaving, as though she’d just been sprinting. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing wildly.

Vanitas stopped just in front of her.

“Have you come to kill me?” She whispered,

“No! I am a doctor, one who specializes in curse-bearers. I came to break this curse.”

That blue light flashed so brightly that it blinded Noe for a moment. He raised a forearm over his eyes, trying to shield them. It faded just as quickly as it had sparked.

Amelia Ruth was huddled on the floor in a pile of her torn, stained skirts. The tear tracks on her face were fading as she cried fresh, clear tears. Her face was covered in small cuts from the vines, her lips especially raw. She was staring up at Vanitas like he was some kind of revelation.

The magician leaned over her, extending a hand, “How do you feel?”

She took the hand and let Vanitas pull her upright. She stumbled against Vanitas, legs shaking. “I—” she looked down at her own hands. They were littered with small cuts. But she smiled at the magician, “I feel warm again,” she whispered.

He was staring at Vanitas the same way Amelia was. His eyes flickered between them—just a minute ago, Amelia had been a demon. When a curse-bearer slipped into madness like that, they were lost—their only salvation was a merciful death. What had the magician just done?

“I need you to try a revision again, or even just a small spell,” Vanitas murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. He was still holding the book in one hand, the other arm gently around Amelia’s waist, supporting her weight. Then Noe noticed a tremor running up the magician’s leg.

Amelia nodded bravely, gazing at the candle she’d sliced in half before. It rose in the air, mending itself and settling on the cracked kitchen island. Her eyes lit up and she gave a startled laugh, “It worked!”

With an arm around her shoulders, Noe gently drew her away from Vanitas. His eyes flickered between them, Vanitas looked like he could barely hold himself upright, but Amelia was looking better—color returning to her cheeks.

“Miss Amelia, would you like to stay at the shop for a few days?”

She blinked up at Noe with teary eyes, “Are you sure that’s alright?” Amelia stepped away to glance around the room and her face fell, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, oh what have I done?”

“It’s alright,” Vanitas said, “I can fix it.”

Noe eyed the magician critically now. Vanitas was as white as a sheet, sweat beading on his forehead. The hand that held the book was shaking. “We can worry about the house later,” Noe said gently. He went to Vanitas’ side and tapped the magician’s shoulder, “sit down, please.”

He expected the magician to fight him. But Vanitas practically collapsed on the only surviving couch. The front part of the room had suffered the least damage. There was debris scattered across the floor, one of the armchairs was split in half and one wall had a long, deep scratch in it.

The wizard turned back to Amelia, “Do you feel well enough to pack a few things? I can help if you—”

“I’m alright,” She said, voice awed and hushed, she glanced up at Noe, smiling again, “I can do it, I haven’t—I haven’t felt like myself in months. I’ll be right back.”

As she hurried upstairs, Noe sighed in relief.

Then it hit him like a truck again—Vanitas had broken her curse…if not for Vanitas, the Mage-Killers or the Queens Headsmen would be summoned to kill her.

Noe blinked over at Vanitas, eyes still wide and filled with awe, “that’s it? She’ll be alright?”

“That’s it.”

The wizard sprawled on the couch beside Vanitas. Noe felt as though he couldn’t catch his breath properly, adrenaline still coursing through him. He asked breathlessly, “what did you do?”

“It’s an ‘inverse operation,’” he said casually, as if that was some common phrase. “I used the book to interfere with her curse. Curses distort wizard’s connection to the Formulas. All I did was fix that distortion.”

“You touched her connection to the formula?”

The book…interfered with her connection to the source? Vanitas interfered with the World Formula?

Noe stared at the magician in complete awe. He breathed, “…You interfered with the formula.”

“…that is the power of the book,” Vanitas shrugged, “that’s all.”

Noe’s heart started to race, his face lit up, “that was all?” He beamed at Vanitas, exclaiming, “that was phenomenal!”

The magician’s eyes went very wide. He froze, looking almost befuddled.

“I can’t believe it!” Noe was rambling, but he was too thrilled to stop himself. “It isn’t a cursed book like in the bedtime story!”

Vanitas started to laugh.

 “…was it really that funny?”

“Yes, you’re funny. I’ve decided I like you,” he chirped. His glanced sideways at Noe, head lolling against the back of the couch.

That made Noe laugh. He mimicked Vanitas’ posture and shot him a daring smirk, “you already liked me,” he muttered darkly.

Vanitas grinned at him, throwing his head back and laughing.

Amelia came downstairs, carrying a small suitcase. She’d changed clothes and tried to clean up the best she could, although she still looked like she’d fought a briar patch. She pressed a hand to her lips, clearly anxious about the cuts there.

“We’ll fix you up,” Noe said gently, “Domi is staying at the shop this week, so you won’t be alone. I promise she’ll understand,” He took Amelia’s suitcase, ushering her towards the door, “and she’ll make tea.”

Noe had to peel Vanitas off the couch, using both arms to pull the other man upright. When Vanitas swayed a little on his feet, Noe offered to carry him. Vanitas threatened to stab him.