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The smell of fresh meat invades Albedo’s senses, rousing him from the slumber he forced himself into to forget the hunger. It’s been months since his last meal, the witches of the forest keeping him in check by not feeding him. No food meant Albedo’s energy levels were low, almost too low to the point where he should’ve been dead twice over. It’s too bad he died long ago, at the grim hands of those superfluously eager to take him apart. Just the thought makes his lower back twinge with the pain of a memory he wished he could forget.
But it’s no matter. If he cannot die, then this is how he must live, trapped in the ever-growing maze the witches call their forest. Another wave of blood hits him, reminding Albedo of the delicious feast he knows is waiting for him somewhere between these trees. Opening his eyes, he allows himself to adjust to the dark of the night, a breeze fluttering the stray hairs around his face. The rest of Albedo’s hair hangs heavy underneath him, or maybe it’s the crushing pressure in his head that makes him feel like he would topple unceremoniously out of this tree any second.
Carefully, he extracts the rest of his legs from out of his back, stretching them to their fullest extent in all directions. The two dangling him upside down from the thick branch he slept on move sideways to the thinning end of the branch, the wood bowing under his weight. Once at the tip, Albedo lets himself fall, welcoming the rushing air and the conscious branches whipping at his body as he maneuvers into an upright position. It’s been some time since he’s last been awake, so the adrenaline starting to pump through him brings him back into the world like a cold bucket of water splashing onto him.
In the back of his throat, the beginning of long strings tickle him, ready to use at his disposal. Albedo waits for the sight of the incoming ground to spit the sticky web out of his mouth, aiming for a notoriously weaker lower hanging branch. The web catches and he bites down to sever the mass of white, his spindly legs hooking on to it to swing him through the limbs of the tree trying to keep him entrapped. He dodges most of them, smacking away any that get too close, but one branch manages to curl itself around his ankle and yanks hard, pulling him back into the tree.
Albedo can only think annoying as ever before he twists his body backwards until his mouth is near his feet and bites down once again, this time through wood. A howl of wind, as if the tree was screaming in agony, and the branch recoils, leaking a liquid that was too dark and red to be sap.
Ignoring the spray of red across his mouth and the bark now laid between his teeth, he makes his way to his targeted branch without another close encounter. This one doesn't fight him, knowing it wouldn't stand a chance against him, and lets Albedo settle as peacefully as he can with a tree raging above him.
With solid ground beneath his feet, Albedo inhales deeply and is hit by the smell again. It's nearly all human, Albedo's sure of it. But he finds it out of place, in the forest where anything living and nonliving was a conglomeration of novel ideas that made the witches click. Leaving a human out for whatever was creeping around has him cautious, but curious.
He lets his back legs rest, folding them to hover just above his hips. His human legs carry him through the forest, following the scent. Bare feet step on slippery grass, but the grass isn’t grass here. Sneaking in between his toes is the dark wisps of energy the forest feed on, disguised as grass until it’s disturbed. It twists and turns, tickling the soles of his feet, almost begging to be let in. Albedo makes his next few steps heavy, his sign to the tendrils that he was not to be messed with. They listen, retracting from his skin to settle beneath him like real grass would.
Not too far from the origin of the scent, he sees something in his peripheral that shouldn’t be there and momentarily tenses. Two of his back legs are withdrawn in an instant, spread out behind him poised to engage in conflict. But Albedo scoffs instead at what he sees, only granting it a derisive eyeroll as he continues on. He doesn't pay it anymore heed but he could describe in detail what exactly it was.
A husk of a person, a thin shell left behind from one of Albedo’s feedings. This particular one sits with their back against a tree, arms resting on their bent knees and legs widespread. Their head leans on the bark, eyes closed. Albedo would almost think they were peacefully sleeping when they died if he didn't know the poison within his fangs completely ravaged the insides of his prey, the searing burn of their organs dissolving into liquid.
There’s a numerous amount of these husks spread throughout the forest, left to disintegrate by the force of nature. For some reason, Albedo liked the thought of something besides himself destroying the remnants. He already played a part in their demise, it only seemed right for the earth and fate to do the rest. Albedo would remember biting into his prey and leaving them to roam, taking pleasure in knowing there was no escape for them. The aimless wandering allows for them to settle themselves somewhere new because he makes sure to chase them to an area where there aren’t any other shells. In his mind, he imagines it’s almost like an art installation, an activity he knows he used to partake in before his time here.
Albedo knows he enjoyed it, the previous art hobby, and knows he enjoys this new form to some degree, but there has always been something that bothered him. He hasn’t been able to figure out what exactly it is, but he knows it has to do with the prey the witches leave out for him. When he looks at the husks, there are multiple that have the same serene expression, and it almost unsettles him. It has created moments where he questions who exactly was being fed to him, or if it was somehow the same person.
If only Albedo knew it was the husk that caused him to remember this particular thought, the question forgotten once he was put back to sleep again.
The air grows thick with blood, the running river a few meters in front of him doing nothing to dilute the smell. Albedo scans the land, and the grass, thinking it can take advantage of his diverted attention, starts to slowly slide up on the back of his ankle. He spots the body at the same time a tendril carefully curls once around, trying to tighten its grip before he notices. With one kick and a low rumble from beneath him, Albedo is able to shake off the darkness and finally confront his next meal.
The corpse lies supine a few feet from the river, blood staining the faux grass around them a fascinating red. Their steady gaze is aimed up into the sky as if they couldn’t sense Albedo there, and if they did, they didn’t care enough to spare him a glance.
Equally as aloof, Albedo ambles forward with his hands crossed behind him until he is leaning over to block their view of the sky. The slope of their cheeks looks familiar, the only thing Albedo gives himself enough time to register before their eyes meet, and Albedo is stabbing the corpse through the abdomen with one of his back legs.
Their eyes widen slightly, and a hand reaches out to grab onto Albedo’s spider leg. “Wait, don’t.”
"Wait? What does it matter? You can't die anyways." Albedo twists his leg just to hear the squelch of their insides. "Until, that is of course, I devour you."
At those words, he expects a look of desperation and horror, ones he knows he’s seen before. Instead, Albedo squints at the change in their eyes that isn't anywhere near fear, but rather an emotion akin to determination.
The hand wrapped around his leg tightens, gripping on as if Albedo would run away if they didn’t. "And why would you do that?“ they argue, fingers fidgeting. “Are we not alike?"
Suspicious, Albedo's eyebrows scrunch together. "What are you trying to say?”
Their own eyebrows move in concentration, trying to figure the right words to say that wouldn’t immediately get them killed. “You… are obviously here because of the witches. We could do something about that. About them.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Albedo asks incredulously.
They nod, and the sincerity of it catches Albedo off guard, so much so that he starts laughing. “Do you seriously think you can take them on? You have to be perfectly aware of what they are capable of. Look at the state we’re in. Deviants, one with spider legs sewn into their back, and the other is your typical undead ghoul. We’re nothing special, and that’s why we are left here. The failed experiments, the rejects.” His laughter fades to a scoff. “I’d hate to see what they do to the people they actually like.”
The corpse goes quiet, and it takes the silence for Albedo to realize their eyes haven’t left his face since he appeared. Hungry eyes and an accompanying mouth that defiantly whispers, “You’re wrong.”
Blood drips slowly from a wound on their forehead, sticking their hair to skin. Albedo gets a strange urge to wipe it away, and not even for a taste but to clear the area so he can see the clean skin underneath. Perplexed, he speaks through the intrusive thought, his voice comes out harsher than he would have wanted, “Why is that?”
“If they are as smart as you say they are, wouldn’t they have come up with a way to get rid of those who can’t die? Yet, you and whomever else is in this forest is still here, waiting for who knows what. Don’t you think they have a reason to be frightened?”
They are asking me to fight back. He startles, trying not to change his expression. Albedo knows he has been irritated with the witches on the rare occurence they had come to visit him but actually attacking them? There’s no memory of him doing such a thing. And for the corpse to suggest it so easily…
Albedo is well aware of how different this is compared to other hunts. Meals don't try to cut a deal with him; they tremble and make a futile attempt at running away. However, this particular one was waiting for his answer as if Albedo ever had meaningful conversations with his food, and the mere implication of it all set him on edge.
Movement comes from farther down than where the corpse’s hand is at, Albedo glancing over in time to see something slipping out of the hole he made in the corpse’s abdomen. It crawls across the patch of unharmed skin to the ground, leaving a trail of their blood behind. Another one about the same length as the last follows, wiggling like worms through dirt. Albedo has to look hard through the dark coating of blood, but he finally recognizes them for what they are. Fingers. Human fingers, ones the grass doesn’t take too kindly to, wrapping around them before they could get far. The blades participating in this particular treat return to their original wispy state, swallowing the fingers whole in a matter of seconds.
The sound of the corpse talking brings Albedo’s gaze back up to their face. “They wanted to see if they could strengthen the five senses by putting them inside of me. There isn’t a single crevice of this body that is empty.”
An image of eyes blinking at him through blood and bone appears in his vision, and Albedo has to blink himself to disperse it. Confusion starts to prickle at his sides, and it’s a feeling he’s not used to, not when he hasn’t had a reason to be. So he turns to an emotion that comes easily: anger.
“Why are you telling me this?” He snaps, the tiny sensory hairs on his spider legs bristling. “Do you think I care?”
For the first time, Albedo sees a smile in this forest, a brightness so out of place where only darkness thrives. A smile like theirs wasn’t meant for the gloom hovering thickly in the air, and it surely wasn’t meant for Albedo, the one who lived in the shadows. But he somehow knows that it is. His skin crawls.
“We were friends.”
It takes a second for the word to click, and when it does, his throat begins to itch with the need to spit out a web made especially for the corpse. “Friends? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Their eyes harden, realizing that whatever they were trying to convince Albedo of wasn’t going to be easy. “You…” They take a deep breath, unnecessary by the way Albedo still doesn’t hear a heartbeat. Force of habit. “The witches send me out for you every once in a while. They’ve managed to replicate me and keep my mind intact, so I remember each time I’ve seen you. I just… have not been able to remember it’s you, Albedo. Until now.”
Albedo jerks at his name, causing his leg to rip vertically through their abdomen. A small gasp escapes them, a noise that should excite him but only serves to unnerve him further. It takes everything in him to not slash the rest of their body to pieces, hunger be damned.
"How do you know my name?"
“I told you. We were friends, courtesy of the witches. They choose what we remember. I can only guess they allowed me. " They pause, a quick quirk of their lips. “Or maybe they messed up somewhere…”
There isn’t a single sentence coming out of their mouth that Albedo is able to comprehend, and so he watches in silence, the most unsure he’s ever been. They must take notice because they start to talk faster, hurrying to finish before Albedo decides he should tear a wider hole in their stomach. "You fight them when you remember. That's why that tree doesn't want to let you go. It's under the witches' command, just like everything else here. They keep us in this cycle, relishing in our pain but once you get out of control, that's when they wipe your memory."
"I never have enough time to think between when I wake up and when you find me. I haven’t been able to remember where my previous bodies lie, but this time, I did. I can even show your where my last shell is at, if you don't believe me."
Albedo's venom is powerful enough to destroy a body inside and out but delicate enough to leave a thin shell mapping out every crease of their skin. It’s not common knowledge, given the fact any who experienced it would be dead and have no way of sharing it to others.
Still, Albedo is stubborn, even if his resolve is falling. "Like I'd actually let you go." It comes out in a shaky voice he can’t recognize as his own.
They must have known he would have responded in this manner because they say with an ease unprecedented in this kind of situation, "Taste my blood."
If Albedo knows one thing, it’s that meals do not offer themselves up. He can’t find it in himself to be taken aback anymore, the person unexpectedly surprising him with each word. And really, what does he have to lose? He lives out his days sleeping (unwillingly or not) in a tree to pass the time between meals, and afterwards, leaves their bodies for the earth to take back. If he could remember more of his life before this, he doesn’t think he would have liked the thought of tolling about waiting for something that probably wasn’t going to come around.
Albedo removes his leg from their abdomen at a sluggish pace, the weight of his spider legs suddenly too much for him to carry. The end of it is dyed red, and up close to his face, the whiff of blood he gets causes him to shudder, his stomach rolling with both hunger and nausea. Tentatively, Albedo licks the blood off his leg, a pinched look coming over his face. Sour, strawberries that have been sitting out under the sun.
It’s not a new flavor; nearly everything tasted like strawberries to him. It's just that everything happened to be Aether.
And he remembers. He remembers the shack the witches lived in, its rundown outer appearance a pretense to the large well-kept space inside. A stairway lead into what should have been a simple basement, but instead was the only exit to an underground labyrinth one of the older women had built. There were other people there besides him and Aether, some who would be escorted out of their cells and wouldn’t come back. Those that did return were never the same, distant stares and blood constantly leaking from an open wound on their body.
Albedo had his spider legs implanted into his back the day Aether first appeared in the cell next to his. That memory will perhaps always be blurry from whatever spell he was under for the operation, but he still remembers seeing the long golden hair swishing behind them as they were shoved into the cell.
The person had looked around his age, younger than the usual captive the witches took in, and it pushed him to painfully scratch at the dirt wall between them using both his hands and his back legs. Aether must have heard him through the wall because when Albedo first broke through, what awaited him was Aether’s wide eyes and a smile that didn’t belong trapped under the earth.
Albedo could not tell how long they were both there, but it was enough time to develop a relationship bordering on romantic. Despite the hole in the wall, they weren’t able to come in direct contact due to the magical barriers set up, but it didn’t stop them from falling asleep with their hands inches away from each other. Albedo would swear he could feel the warmth of Aether’s hand, and it brought him a comfort he hadn’t felt in months.
A comfort that only lasted until the warmth and color started draining from Aether. They would return from their time with the witches colder than the last, but Aether just gave him the same smile they always did when Albedo would ask if they were alright. The smile withered away on one of the last days Albedo spent in those cells, immediately alerting Albedo.
“What’s wrong?”
Their hands were pressed as close to the wall as possible, but Aether had quickly pulled away to touch their stomach. Their voice shook slightly when they said, “There’s something moving inside of me.”
For a second, Albedo forgot there was a barrier between them and rushed to push his hand through the hole, only to have his fingers crash and bend under its strength. Albedo gazed at his throbbing hand for a moment before forming a fist, taking a swing at the only thing separating him and Aether. He had never been angry about the things the witches had put him through but knowing the empty stare Aether was watching him with was caused by them could not stop it from filling him up with hot rage.
Even through the crunch of bones breaking, Albedo kept aiming his fist at the barrier, wishing with all that was in him he was strong enough to take Aether away from such a fate. Albedo didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, but the one person who had the ability to stop him let out a soft sigh, and Albedo knew they were just as tired as he was. Breathing hard, Albedo finally slowed his assail to a complete halt and said with a finality in his tone, “We’ll get out of here. I’ll make sure of it.”
Aether stopped eating that day, saying anything they could put down only caused immense pain in their stomach. The last thing Albedo saw before he was unwittingly knocked out by his own meal was Aether staring at the strawberries sitting on the side of the small tray of food. They went into Aether’s mouth in a rush but came back up just as quick, Aether retching quietly in the corner.
A breeze comes through the trees, moving the hair that isn’t sticky with blood around Aether’s forehead. Moonlight dances across their body from the shifting branches above them, illuminating the soft smile gracing Aether’s face.
Albedo breathes out, "Oh, Aether. What did they do to you?"
Their smiles dims ever so slightly, and Aether shakes their head. "Nothing I wasn’t used to."
It doesn't make Albedo feel any better, but he decides against pushing it and looks away. The gaping wound in Aether’s abdomen is looking back at him, the guilt building inside of him overwhelming. Albedo grits his teeth to prevent himself from spitting out harsh barbs and walks over to the nearest tree to yank off a few leaves. They shrivel instantly, disconnected from their life source. With a single squeeze of his hand, the leaves turn to powder, a subdued brown.
Albedo kneels next to Aether, who hasn’t moved from their position, and presses the powder into Aether’s wound. A writhing tongue tries to poke through the hardening substance, licking at Albedo’s palm. The anger coursing through him now is different from before, and he allows it to ride alongside the guilt, wrenching the tongue away from Aether with a sickening suction noise. It’s flung backwards, landing meters away from them. Albedo doesn’t have to turn around to know the grass would take care of it.
Aether watches without speaking, and he’s reminded of that moment in the cell. His hands throb with the ghost of an old pain.
The powdered leaves fully harden, and Albedo hooks an arm around Aether’s shoulders to help them up. On shaky legs, Aether gazes down at their stomach, poking cautiously at the almost clay-like substance. “Is that safe?” they ask.
“This forest harms you, but it will do anything to keep you alive. Just so it can toy with you some more.”
As they walk forward, Aether’s arm is warm against his back when it shouldn’t be, and Albedo wants to sink into it. It hits him that this is the first time they have touched, and it takes everything in him not to crumble back down to the ground and stay there hugging Aether to him. However, Aether’s next words are cold and keeps Albedo aware of the state they are in. “Sounds familiar.”
They both go quiet, the insinuation loud and clear.
“Tell me,” Albedo almost pleads, and he hopes Aether can’t hear how his dead heart is breaking.
“Your poison kills me before you do, and by the time you have a bite, you remember everything. I've told you before it's okay to eat me, and you usually laugh and say, "Of course I'm going to." But then you come to your senses once you do, and it all rushes back to you."
Aether turns their head to Albedo, the corners of their lips curved down. Up close, Albedo can make out every glittering color of their eyes and the roundness around their cheekbones. The arm they had dangling at their side comes up, almost like they wanted to cup Albedo's face. Aether seems to think twice of it and curls their hand into a fist, whispering as their arm returns to their side, "They keep you hungry, and I don't mind being the ends to that."
The earnestness in Aether’s face causes Albedo to avert his eyes, unable to respond in a way that would convey even an ounce of what he felt. He does tighten his grip on Aether’s shoulder and hopes it comes through his skin and into theirs.
They follow the river upstream, the incline putting stress on Aether’s very unused knees. With Albedo’s strength equally as stunted and the weight of Aether leaning on him, they wouldn’t make it to the witches’ house until morning. Albedo is fine with it as it gives him time to formulate a plan while simultaneously getting used to the fact he can physically feel Aether. He shouldn’t be though, not with this invisible time limit hanging over his head, where when it suddenly plunges to zero, the witches will surround them and they wouldn’t be able to stop their combined forces.
But Albedo can’t hold back the giddiness swelling to a giant bubble, airy and floating around in his system without a care in the world. Aether is next to him, periodically taking in gulps of air after they hadn’t breathed for a few minutes, as if they weren’t used to the thought of not breathing. Their head is tilted towards him but looking down to watch where they are going, pushing their body into Albedo’s so he moves with them when there’s a large rock or branch in their path. It’s natural, how seamlessly their bodies connect. Before, Albedo had never been fond of contact, and it turns out tangible affection wasn’t high on his list of doings here in the forest. Having the coolness of Aether’s body become warm when it meets Albedo, even though he is just as cold, has him longing for the day they will make it out of here.
Ahead of them, the trees begin to thicken, dulling the sound of the river despite it still being right beside them. A crack echoes nearby, Albedo assuming it’s a branch falling down to the ground, but Aether stiffens, glancing from Albedo to their pathway. "Let's turn here."
"Why?” Albedo questions. “The shortest route is along the river."
They suck in their bottom lip to nibble onto before saying, "I just remembered the witches created a new hybrid, one to rival you. We should avoid it."
A new hybrid? Albedo hadn’t sensed anything new lately, but maybe that was the whole point. The witches could’ve finally made someone who was stronger than him, someone who they would use to keep him in line. It does nothing to make him nervous, and he almost snorts before seeing the look on Aether’s face.
Fighting a brand new opponent would most likely not lean in favor of Albedo in his current state, so he tells Aether of option two. "But don't you think it'd be best to meet them? Even if we can't convince them, we could lead them to the witches, and perhaps cause a bit of havoc in the process."
Albedo is still walking forward, the river bending to the right. There’s a light tug at his waist, Aether attempting to dig their heels in the ground, but without enough grip, Albedo doesn’t feel the friction at their feet.
Aether tugs again but harder, tripping over a rock they didn’t have time to dodge, not with their focus elsewhere. That finally gains his attention, Albedo stumbling along with them.
Sounding out of breath, Aether pants, "Albedo, wait—"
"What is it..." Albedo drifts off, catching sight of a familiar figure.
It's in the shape of the person next to him, this time on one knee and clutching at their neck. Their face is just as serene as the others, but the position of their body tells him of the pain they were in right before death. The shell has a fracture, stretching from their shoulder to their thigh. Another split, and Albedo knows it would fall to pieces, blending into the grass within moments of its demise.
Faster than Albedo would think possible, Aether spins him away from the husk, and guides him in the opposite direction. The few moments of silence lets the anger seethe once again, his spider legs twitching from inside his lower back. Their desire to stab through any of the witches’ faces is aligning with his own dark wants, and he has to bite onto the inside of his cheek to restrain it.
Sighing, Aether gently strokes his lower back, as if sensing the turmoil within Albedo. "You didn't need to see that."
"Oh, but I think I did." Blood is in his mouth and on his lips, for he never wiped away the tree’s spray of sap. He is hungry for something that isn’t human, and he craves the destruction of those that put them and countless others here. Albedo is tired of the manipulation, and he has the resolve to put a stop to it at last.
Veering back towards the river, Albedo grabs Aether’s hand, the one which had returned to its place resting on his hip and twines their fingers together.
They would not take Aether away from him anymore. He will make them pay.