Chapter Text
Standing at the second gate in, he adjusted his sleeves, looking around the new world he had been thrown into.
There were flowers everywhere, not a single flake of snow to be seen, and there were plenty of rabbits. Despite everything he had come to expect of the worlds he was travelling through, it seemed to be the perfect setup for survival. The shadows, cast by the sun that was high in the sky, were waving in an almost friendly manner as they curled around the bases of the trees.
"Well." he muttered, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and pulling down on his waistcoat. "First thing first."
He hummed to himself as he gathered up an armful of flowers, the different colors releasing a perfumed haze of scent whenever he moved. Once he had enough, he sat down in the knee high grass that smelled like summer and wove them together, setting it on his own head when it was finished. There were still a large number of flowers left over when he finished, and he made another one, a faint smile curling up the edges of his lips.
Before he left, he gathered enough grass to make a backpack, dropping the key to the Nightmare Throne inside of it and cushioning it with some more grass. With a deep breath, Maxwell held his head up high, the flower crown on his head waving in the breeze.
"Well, Higgsbury," he muttered, choosing a direction. "Here I come."
As it turned out, survival was easy when it came to the land of perpetual summer.
No matter how many days he counted out, the length of them never changed, the sun never drooping in it's position in the sky. The nights were blessedly short, excluding a few incidents here and there, but for the most part it was all fine.
It almost made him regret what he had forced Wilson through.
Speaking of Wilson, he hadn't seen him anywhere, not even when he passed through the gates. There was a distinct lack of the man anywhere in this world or the last or even in the first. It was as if he had disappeared entirely when he had freed Maxwell from the throne.
Which, actually, he might have.
That was the problem: Maxwell didn't know. Wilson P. Higgsbury could have vanished in a puff of smoke and shadow the moment he was pulled onto the throne, and he wouldn't know about it. Despite everything it had put him through, he sometimes missed the knowledge that came with sitting upon the throne. The second flower crown still sat in his bag, never wilting no matter how hot it got or how long it had been since he had made it.
It seemed that, now the lands were in someone else's hands, things were kinder than they had been. Maxwell was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen that was worse than anything he could have come up with.
What he was getting defied his expectations in a way that confused him.
The shadows around his feet were growing longer with every step he took, and it actually took him a moment to realize it. They were stretching towards a grove of trees up ahead, and he cautiously followed them, a hand on the stone blade he had fashioned.
At the base of the widest tree was a curled up shape, a pair of small hands clutching at a fall of blonde hair that hid their face.
There was a flower pinned into their hair, near the front, and beneath that he saw a flash of pink fabric. He stepped on a twig, snapping it, and they jolted upright like they'd been electrocuted. It was a girl, probably about twelve years of age, and she looked up at him with eyes that seemed somehow familiar.
What made Maxwell smile was that she didn't look afraid of him.
"Hello." he greeted, his voice a little hoarse from disuse. "Are you alright?"
She didn't answer, rising to her feet slowly and pulling something from her pocket, offering it forward when he narrowed his eyes at it. With what seemed like exasperation, she trudged forward and took his hand in her own, curling his fingers around whatever it was.
Maxwell raised an eyebrow, uncurling his fingers and looking at what she had forced into his hand.
It was a pair of glasses, thin wire frames and decently thick glass lenses.
"Oh." he muttered, pulling the corner of his shirt up and cleaning them off before sliding them onto his nose. "Where did you find these?" they fit him, sliding neatly onto his nose and curling around his ears like they belonged there. The impaired vision he hadn't noticed sneaking back up on him was soothed, his eyes functioning nearly perfectly now.
The girl simply stared up at him, eyes wide and almost dead looking.
"Can you speak?" he knelt down to her height, folding his long frame down until he was roughly meeting her eyes on her level. "Or have you lost that ability?"
She frowned, her eyes barely changing with the expression, and mimed writing something. When he didn't respond to that, his thoughts strewn around by the sight of another person, something that only happened when a deal was made, she sighed and pulled a small purse from the hollow of the tree she had been sitting against. A child-sized pencil followed, the tip of it blunted and soft. From inside the purse, she drew a small pad of paper.
'I can't speak.' she wrote, frowning even more as she did so. 'We don't know why, but I just cannot.'
"Well, that's alright then." Maxwell nodded, tapping the paper. "As long as you have paper and something to write with, we can communicate. You can still hear, so I imagine that that will be useful."
'Why do you think of people as useful?' she scribbled out, lips pursed. 'You seem like you've forgotten how to talk to people.'
"I may very well have," he admitted quietly. "What's your name?"
'Wilhelmina', she wrote out carefully, a small smile replacing her unhappy expression. 'But my father calls me Wendy'.
"...You mentioned a 'we' when you said you didn't know why you couldn't speak." Maxwell frowned. "Why did you mean when you- Wait, what are you writing now?"
The paper was pushed towards him, small hands grasping the edges of it with white knuckles. 'I meant Wilson. He sent me here with the glasses, and he told me to tell you my name, and he also mentioned another thing.'
"What other thing?"
Wendy looked up at him, her eyes somewhat wider than before. Without writing anything else, she flipped the note pad over.
Her name, in thick lettering, written in black ink, was displayed clearly.
'Wendy Carter.'
Maxwell threw himself backwards, landing on his backside in the grass a few feet away.
Watching with her wide eyes, Wendy cocked her head at an angle, then flipped to a page in the note pad and scribbled something there, hand moving quickly as she jotted out her precise lettering. When she finished, she stepped carefully through the grass, coming to a stop at his side and plopping down next to him. 'Mister Wilson said that it was important you knew my name, but he wouldn't tell me why.'
Cursing the man in his mind, he nodded. "Wilson knows many things, and now that he sits on the throne, he knows even more." he sat up, brushing himself off quickly and rearranging his glasses. Strange, he thought, how rapidly one gets used to these things again. "I would not put it past him to have knowledge of who I used to be."
Wendy simply raised an eyebrow at him.
"Maxwell was a stage name of a magician." he explained, his hands folding together in his lap. "My name, before that, before I made a deal with the throne, was William Carter."
With a bright smile, Wendy tapped her own nose.
"Yes, like your name." he sighed. "I- Is your father a man named Jack Carter?"
She nodded, pulling all of her hair over one shoulder and combing her fingers through it.
Maxwell closed his eyes, ignoring the urge to curse loud and long until something changed. "Then it is my belief that you are my niece. I was told, however, that my brother had a set of twin girls."
Wendy's spine stiffened, and she looked somewhere back over her shoulder. When she turned around again, it was with a confused expression on her face. The writing pad was pulled back up and she scribbled something else into it. 'You mean you can't see her?'
Looking over her shoulder, Maxwell blinked a couple of times, peering into the shadows of the grove of trees. Faintly, he could see a blurred outline, something that may have looked human once, a long time ago. "I can if I focus." he told her, eyes narrowing as he tried to stay focused. "What happened?"
'I don't remember.' she handed him the note this time, standing up and reaching a hand out to the glimmering shape in the darkness. There was contact, for a second, before her fingers slipped through.
When he stood, she slipped her hand into his, the note pad tucked safely back into her little purse and the pencil tucked behind her ear.
It was starting to get dark, Maxwell realized when they left the grove of trees. Wendy's hand was still wrapped in his, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rising inside of him. She was small, a delicate thing that needed to be sheltered in a world that was routinely unfair.
Even with Wilson on the throne, things were still dangerous.
With his glasses back, he could see the shadows and shapes of the world around him again. His vision had been degrading back to how it was before so slowly that he hadn't even noticed.
At his side, Wendy skipped along, her movements practical in that they kept her moving at the same pace as him. His legs were much longer than hers, and every step he took resulted in her taking three. As they made their way together, back towards the small camp he had set up, she gazed around the landscape like it held secrets that she wanted to pry from it.
She was his niece, alright.
Once back at camp, she settled down near where he had made his resting spot.
Unsure of what to say, Maxwell simply watched her, his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. An unexpected child to care for, to make sure that his remaining beasts did not destroy...
It wasn't the worst of the possibilities.
Especially since, after his disconnect from the real world, he had lost almost all track of his brother.
'Almost' was only because of a letter that had somehow found it's way down to him after what seemed like an eternity in the realm of shadows. It had mentioned twins, their mother, the move to America...Whatever else had been mentioned, he didn't remember.
Based on the letter, and based on how old Wendy seemed to be, it must have been at least twelve years past, by now.
Funny, he thought, how much time has passed down here.
Wendy looked up at him, her eyes wide, then nodded. The pad of paper was out again, held up for him to read. 'Mister Wilson wants you to know you're going to be safe.' it read, her neat letters stark against the white paper.
"Perhaps he could tell me that himself?" Maxwell sighed as he lowered himself into the seat he had created next to where his fire was. "I have yet to see him here. I was beginning to wonder if I ever would." he watched as she took the paper back, writing something else. "It is a difficult habit to break, watching over my shoulder at every chance to see if those keeping the King bound to the board were observing. I was sure they might have taken him away when he replaced me."
Wendy's hand paused, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she shifted, crossing her ankles. After a moment, she scratched something out, then wrote something else. 'You're two gates in, and he replaced you. Why?'
"Why are you asking me why?" Maxwell countered, watching her hand move again as she continued writing.
'Why are you heading back down to the deepest levels if he freed you?' there was space between that line and the next. 'He replaced you, made it so that you could leave. Why come back?'
"...I don't know."
'I think you do.' Wendy shook her head, meeting his eyes. Hers were almost the same as the glow of the ghost that hovered behind her.
Maxwell's frown deepened. "You are a child, how about you let the adult try to figure out his own mind? You may find that it is a better tactic in the long run." he sighed again, covering his face before turning away to work on getting the fire started.
'I'm not sure I am a child.' she showed him the paper again, leaning around the building fire. The streaks of sunset were painting the sky, the shadows were long, and the breeze was dying down. With another look at her face, Maxwell raised an eyebrow. Wendy stared back, her eyes wide and her mouth set in something that resembled a smile in the same way a bird of prey resembled a butterfly.
With a shiver, Maxwell leaned back from her. "Then what are you?"
"We think she might be asleep."
Somehow, with great thanks to whatever forces might be listening, Maxwell didn't fall into the fire at the sudden appearance of the man he had been working his way towards. "Well, Higgsbury, how is it that you are suddenly here?"
Wilson, eyes black and dressed in a suit that seemed to be a combination of his own and Maxwell's previous one, sat on the ground next to him, smiling up at the taller man. "I needed an anchor to your location to stay in one place. I have not, as of yet, mastered the powers that come with ruling." with a roll of his shoulders, he slid his coat off and offered it to Wendy. "Here."
Looking at his niece, Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Higgsbury-"
"When she's near me, I think it might be a little too much. She starts shivering. There's no need to defend her honor from me, Maxwell." Wilson cut him off before he could reprimand the smaller man. "It's either too much of the real world, or too much of a reminder that she isn't meant to be here."
"Haven't figured it out yet?"
Chuckling, Wilson shook his head. The black tips of his nails drew Maxwell's attention, clattering on the small pile of wood that sat next to the campfire. "As far as I can tell, she's in a comatose state. She has expressed frustration with looking like a child in this world."
"I would be frustrated as well." Maxwell remarked, standing slowly. "I wish to speak with you. Wendy, would you mind staying here for a few minutes?"
She shook her head and waved them away.
As they wandered into the woods, Wilson hummed something quietly. The ice that had fueled Maxwell was gone, replaced by a summery heat that seemed to flow off his skin. "You seem to be getting along with your niece quite well." Wilson remarked once they were deeper into the trees.
"I have rarely had the opportunity for family." Maxwell answered shortly, his hands resting in his pockets. Wilson's were clasped behind his back, his posture returned to how it had been before he set foot in the world of shadows. "I can say that I see it as somewhat of a blessing. To know how things fared for my brother...It is a relief."
Wilson nodded. "Why are you still here?"
"I do not know." Maxwell eyed him carefully, lips twisted in an expression of discontent. "After all of the talk of being the better man, of me going wrong because I had no one to stop me, you ask me why I'm still here, as if you want me to leave you here alone."
"I do not want to be alone, but I do not wish for you to spend the entirety of your life here." Wilson hedged, his eyes focused on the taller man's face.
"If the appearance of my niece is to be believed, my time is already over." Maxwell countered, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets. With his glasses returned to him and the loss of the throne, he seemed more like the man he had been before.
"You still have spent so long here..." Wilson's hands tightened as well, claws digging into the pale flesh of his palms. "Do you know what year the world rests in, outside of this domain?"
"No, I do not." Maxwell sighed. "I was entirely too focused on y- On other things, to be aware of such information. Besides, knowledge was not my gain in the deal I made." he cleared his throat, an awkward flush of color making itself known on his face.
Wilson nodded, tilting his head at the pause. "Speaking of deals, I found- There was someone I found when I started gaining full control of things, after I dropped you outside the first gate. If I recall correctly, I saw that same someone when you were in charge and I had forgotten to stay within the reaches of the light I created."
Maxwell's head jerked around to look at the smaller man so fast that his neck may very well have snapped. "What? What did you do to her?"
"Nothing." Wilson let his hands loose, placing a calming one on Maxwell's shoulder. "I have done nothing to her, I left her be. I just wanted to- Well, it's a toss up between whether this is a warning or me informing you that she's alright." he sighed. "Maxwell, she isn't doing well in the slightest. There's so little of her left that, all she is, is shadow and insanity."
"You are not to harm her." Maxwell warned, leaning in close to the current Demon King of Shadows, their noses almost touching. "If you do, I'll-"
"There is nothing left to harm, Maxwell." Wilson shook his head. "You wanted power and magic. I asked for knowledge. As far as I can tell, these things increase tenfold when you take the throne. I know little of who she was as seen through your eyes, but I know that she, if there's anything left of who she was, is likely hating her current existence."
"Hig- Wil-" Maxwell made a soft choking noise. "Please."
Taking the man's face in both of his hands, Wilson nodded. "Do you want to see her?"
"Please." Maxwell said again, his hands curling gently around Wilson's wrists. "Please." he was halfway sobbing now, his shoulders shaking as he folded inwards, all the strength he once possessed leaving him.
Wilson searched his face for a moment, then nodded again. When Maxwell opened his eyes once more, they were back by the fire, Wilson saying something to Wendy. The girl nodded, and then the shadows enveloped them again, whisking them off to some unknown destination.
When they stopped moving, Maxwell almost slumped against Wilson, his longs legs providing a long fall to the ground.
"Stay here for a moment, alright?" Wilson went down with him, guiding him to a position that wouldn't make his entire body ache. If he could have, Maxwell would have thanked him, but his lips were trembling and his entire body was shaking and he just didn't have it within him right then.
The smaller man wandered off, but the glow of light he carried with him stayed behind.
Within the circle of light, Maxwell could see the creatures that scurried around, just beyond. He'd never been this close to them without any power over them before, and it made him a little nervous. When one stopped, just short of touching him, he reached out a hand. The hound sniffed at it, then gave his palm a lick before moving on.
Hearing footsteps, he sighed. "A new ruler and suddenly not a one of them is as bloodthirsty as I made them be."
"Well," Wilson spoke softly. "I wouldn't think so, not when they're not being encouraged to it. They are not naturally fearsome beasts." he cleared his throat quietly. "Maxwell?"
The taller man finally looked up, his eyes wide when they settled on the being just behind Wilson. For the most part, she was made of shadows, her gangly limbs a grim parody of the shapely body that had been hers before. Her legs were entirely faded away into a dark mist, several more limbs of the same fog sprouting from her back. Her hair, once blonde and bright, was now a disconcerting red, as if the strands had been dipped in blood.
Sadly, that was the only color to her now. Even her skin, porcelain and pale, was a dusk colored oddity.
"Charlie." Maxwell swallowed, his adams apple bobbing in his throat.
The night monster, the Grue, the terror that had haunted an unknown number of people, slinked forward, her entire body moving smoothly through the shadows. Her grin was almost as bright as the moon that gave the were creatures reason to shift. She stuttered out a few syllables, bloodied drool dripping through her teeth as she moved closer.
"M-m-ma-" she rattled, her voice like a car engine refusing to start. "-We-w-w-well."
When he looked to Wilson, the man nodded. "I told you there was so little of her left." he whispered, biting his bottom lip. "Perhaps I should not have brought her to see you, or you to see her."
"No," Maxwell shook his head. "I wanted to say goodbye."
He turned back to her, reaching a cautious hand out, like he had with the hound. "Oh, my dear Charlie." he muttered, allowing one of her shadowy limbs to wrap around his hand, no fear in his eyes as he waited. "I am so sorry for what was done to you, for what I did to you."
Her grin faltered a bit as she leaned closer, almost all of her kept at bay by the light.
"I wish we could have had more time together," he blinked, then nodded. "I wish we could have performed for years, we would have been fantastic. You always did look lovely, and you were born to be on stage. I just wish I could have kept you there. Instead, my idiocy led us here, and you to your death. And then I made things worse by-" he cut off, a small sob falling from his lips. "I tried to bring you back and all I did was make it worse."
She croaked, a few sounds that were almost words, then dragged him further into the shadows. With a little more room allowed, she wrapped her arms around him, the shadows shifting until she was the right height in comparison to him.
"W-w-w-w-wi-yum." she managed, her hair dissolving into shadows as she pulled back and looked up into his face. "Wi-yum." With a single nod and a few more clicking sounds, she curled back up against his chest. His hands found her shoulders, pulling her a few scant inches closer, one sliding up to land hesitantly in her hair.
"I am so sorry, my dear Charlotte." he whispered, kissing the top of her head. There were tears running down his cheeks and his eyes closed slowly. "I wish that I could fix this, Charlie. But I tried that, and all I did was ruin everything."
By the time they pulled apart again, Charlie's grin was entirely gone, spots of light appearing where her eyes should have been. A clawed hand landed on his cheek.
"Wi-yum." she spoke, a hint of scolding in her tone.
Maxwell nodded, a sound bursting from him that sounded like laughter and sobbing all at once. "Charlie. Charlie and William."
Her thumb traveled over to the tip of his nose, tapping it twice before her hand fell away. "Good Wi-yum." she shuddered, her version of a sob, then nodded once more. "Good. Not bad." she frowned, her teeth reappearing for a second. "Notbad. Notbad, Wi-yum!"
"I will try to remember that, this time." he whispered, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. "Goodbye, Charlie."
With one last nod, she let go of him, allowing him to step back into the light. When she turned to Wilson, the shorter man held out a hand, taking her clawed fingers within his own and smiling. Maxwell closed his eyes, shoving his glasses to the top of his head as he dug his palms into them.
It was a few seconds later that Wilson put a hand on his shoulder. "She's gone now."
"Good. It wasn't right for her to be here anyways." Maxwell didn't uncover his face. "I messed up in a way that she should not have forgiven me for."
Wilson's hands were on both his shoulders now. "I am a bit surprised, I must admit. You went through that entire encounter while sitting on the ground. You even allowed her to drag you through the dirt while sitting down."
Maxwell grumbled something, the pressure on his eyes growing heavier.
"The shadows that formed her...When they separated, they dropped something. I don't know if you want it or if you would like to never see it, but I have it safe." he slid the hand that was on the taller man's right shoulder down a bit, allowing the feeling of his curled up fingers to register.
Finally, Maxwell's hands dropped and he opened his eyes. Taking a moment to readjust his glasses, he fixed his gaze on the other man. "Yes?"
Wilson opened his hand to reveal a ring on a chain.
"...I would like to keep that." Maxwell's eyes were pinned to it now, his hands latching on to the fabric of his pants and going so tight that his knuckles were bloodless.
"Was this an engagement ring?"
"What, does it surprise you?"
Wilson shook his head, transferring the ring and chain carefully into the man's hand. "Why would it surprise me?"
"I had hoped, foolishly, that one day we could be married and I would be a great magician." Maxwell sighed. "We were going to tour the world, and she was going to be my wife. It was a hope I had, and I always knew it was in vain, but I wished for it desperately." he unclasped the chain, putting it around his own neck.
Nodding, Wilson stood and held out a hand. "We should get back to Wendy before the sun rises."
"Rises?"
"We have been here all night." Wilson pointed out as he helped Maxwell to his feet. "And you should get some sleep if you are going to insist on wandering through the gates to find my actual body again."
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Not going to bother stopping me?"
"Why would I? I suspect that you do not want the throne back, otherwise you would be plotting. You don't seem to want me dead now that you're not sitting on it." Wilson gazed up at him. "Honestly, I'm at a loss as to why you want to make it through to the under realms once more."
"Perhaps, Higgsbury, some of us want to find a way to destroy the damned thing." Maxwell smirked, a thin veneer of armor against the world. "And perhaps some of us think it unfair that you are stuck there in my place."
Wilson, with a soft curve at the corner of his lips, put both of his hands over Maxwell's eyes.
"Thank you." he whispered.
When the taller man could see again, he was back at the campsite, the fire crackling merrily and no current shadow king in sight. With a sigh, he trundled over to his bed and crouched down, then lay back. His hands settled on his stomach as he looked up at the remaining stars, a frown on his face. "I have said it before, Wilson. You have ruined me."
As if in reminder, the shadows that the fire cast grew longer, one of them lifting slowly off the ground and curling around the toe of his shoe.
"As you said, we have ruined each other." Maxwell frowned. "What does that mean on your end?"
There was no answer, not even from the shadows or their movement.
A couple of weeks passed with Maxwell and Wendy surviving together.
Every morning, they woke up. They ate, they gathered what they would need for the day, they collected more supplies, and then they retired for the evening. It was a quickly established pattern, and not once did they make any more progress towards the gate that would take them down to the next layer of the world. If someone had asked him why not, Maxwell would have frowned and shaken his head.
In truth, he was afraid of what would happen to Wendy.
If the girl really was in a comatose state in the real world, then might it be possible for her descent into this one to trap her? Surely, if they progressed, then she might never wake in the real world again. Based on what little recollection of memories she was able to share with him, he knew she needed to go back at some point.
He might need to spend the rest of his existence down here, but she didn't.
'Have you given up on the gates?' was the paper pushed into his line of sight one evening. The fire was radiating enough heat for their dinner to fry, and light enough to see her careful scrawl.
"I have not." Maxwell assured her, a gentle hand pushing her notebook away. "But I fear for your safety if you continue on with me. And, before you can think of it, I will not leave you behind. Such a thing is unfathomable to me."
Wendy tilted her head to the side, then wrote something else. 'You would have gladly done so before. Mister Higgsbury has been telling me stories of what you were like.'
"I would like to think I am a changed man, in some respects." Maxwell prodded a log closer to the center of the fire, a stream of sparks and ash floating up into the darkening sky. "I would not say I am completely good, but I would like to think that I am doing my best to change my ways."
Her eyes the same as ever, blank and wide, seemed to focus on him. 'You seem so disconnected, uncle.'
"I am worried."
'Why?'
When his dark eyes met her empty ones, he swallowed, his lips pursing into a concerned frown. "There are those, my dear, who would likely love to see me in pain. I have not a single doubt that the ones I made my own deal with are seeking to destroy me for managing to slip out of their grasp."
'You weren't supposed to be able to leave the throne?'
"No, I was not." he prodded another log, watching the resulting sparks with a small smile. "Which is why I was so surprised that Wilson managed to replace me on the throne."
'Is part of your worry that they will find you?' She held the notebook up, tapping the word 'They' for emphasis. A small shudder rocked Maxwell's body as he nodded, the sensation of being watched settling in like a bullet between his shoulder-blades.
He stood, then circled around the fire towards her, kneeling down and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Yes. These days, however, my worry is not for myself. You are, thus far, free from their machinations. You have not struck a deal, you have not bound yourself to this playing board. If they were to find you, I fear what your fate would be."
A sound like a snapping branch dragged their attention towards the darkness beyond their camp.
"...There should still be some daylight left." Maxwell frowned as he curled Wendy protectively closer. "It was not much, but there should still be some light." when he looked around again, focusing on where he had last seen the sun, the sky was darker than he had ever seen it.
Unless, of course, he counted the moment he took control for the first time.
"Wendy, can you make two torches and hold them both by yourself for a moment?" he whispered, a hand still on her shoulder. The darkness seemed to ripple at his words, like it was planning on swallowing them whole. Maxwell turned to face it as Wendy focused on the fire, pulling together two torches and lighting them both. With a little more light spread out towards the edges of their camp, Maxwell could see eyes in the darkness.
They were large, probably about the size of his fist, and they shifted around the inky blackness as if they were free of any tether such as anatomy.
"You are not coming anywhere near here," Maxwell tilted his chin up, swallowing his nerves down. "I will not let you, not if I have any say in the matter." he held a hand out for one of the torches, then took Wendy's hand in his other. She was still so small compared to him, and though she was voiceless, she had no problem making herself heard.
Wendy Carter, he thought, bold and brave.
With that, he held the torch up high and sprinted through the darkness, his fingers clenching his niece's tightly. The darkness itself seemed to howl, and when he glanced over his shoulder to see what lay behind, the camp they had spent the weeks in had vanished from sight.
Claws reached out from the darkness, snagging on his clothes and her hair, as if to pull them from the portable sources of light and trap them forever.
With no sense of direction, not even up and down, William held the torch forward from himself, as if he were stabbing at the darkness with it. "You will not keep us here!" he hissed the words, almost unsure if he actually managed to speak. Gritting his teeth, he tucked his head in, his movements halting as he tugged Wendy against his side and crouched down to curl her head in under his.
A faint roaring echoed in the distance, and then the darkness was gone.
Blinking, Wendy tugged on her uncle's shirt until he looked up. The sun was now out, their torches extinguished, and there was a light rain pattering against the ground. William looked around, then pulled back so that he could see Wendy's face. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, then held up her hands. The tips of her fingers were gone, like an unfinished drawing, the edges ragged in a hazy way that seemed somewhat dream-like.
"Oh." William took her hands in his own, the torches down on the ground and all but forgotten. "Oh my dear, it seems your time is up." he met her eyes, slightly startled by the appearance of pupils. They were a deep blue, and they served to make one thing apparent: She was fading out of the world of shadows. He could see the ground behind her through her eyes.
With a panicked little breath, she pulled her notebook from her purse and shoved it against his chest, then wrapped her arms around his neck. Holding him tightly, Wendy shook her head, her little arms shaking as she tried not to cry.
"I-" William pressed a kiss to the hair above her ear, behind the flower she had insisted on wearing. "I will miss you, but it is probably for the best."
She shook her head again, pulling back so she could meet his eyes. Silent streams of tears flowed down her cheeks, an angry frown that bared her teeth twisting her face. Carefully, she mouthed something that made his heart ache in his chest. 'I don't want to!' she sobbed, her entire body shaking. 'I just met you, and I don't want to leave yet!'
"You have to." he whispered, attempting to soothe her. His fingers combed through her hair, carefully curving around the flower. "You need to wake up. From what you've told me, from the memories you have managed to hold on to, you have a husband. You are not the little girl you appear to be in this world, this is a state you've reverted to." he sighed, then cradled a hand underneath her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Wilhelmina Carter, you need to return to the life you're supposed to be living out in the real world. My time is far past, if I am to be quite honest."
Wendy shook her head again, her hair flying with the force of it.
"Yes, my dear." William frowned. "I wish I could have been around for you, to watch you grow up and to meet your sister before her untimely passing. I- You have no idea how much I wish I could have been there." he sobered slightly, then nodded. "I should have died long ago, the only reason I am still around is because I sat on the Nightmare Throne for so long."
Her hands clenched tightly in the fabric that formed the collar of his shirt, small fingers curling under it, as if that would keep her from being separated from him. It was, however, too late. Her hands were vanishing before her eyes, and no amount of tears would stop the process of her waking up.
"You must be strong," William whispered, pulling back and untangling her grasp. He swallowed a low noise of horror at the sight of her hands, then managed a smile. "The world is harsh, and you'll get nowhere in it by running from your problems." he nodded once more, eyes fractionally wider. Her entire form was spectral, almost matching what little he could see of her sister. "I suppose that is a lesson I should have learned long, long ago."
William kissed her forehead, a hand cupping the back of her head, then pulled away and stood up. The notebook fell to the ground and he scooped it up before any damage could occur.
With a small noise, Wilhelmina Carter left the shadow lands, the only proof of her ever being there a notebook with ragged edges and page upon page of her handwriting. Her sister trailed behind for a few moments, floating closer to her uncle. "You too, Abigail. Neither of you belong here, not even with Death having relieved you of a body."
The ghost flickered once, then twice, then vanished.
Now that they were gone, William could see his way back to the campsite, having moved only fifty or so feet from it. With a resigned sigh, he carefully tucked his niece's notebook into his pocket, trudging along through the wet grass until he came to a stop next to his bedroll. "Wilson," he whispered, kneeling to pack some things into a bag made of woven grass and bits of leather that he had managed to procure from hunting some of the odd creatures down. "If you can hear me, I am heading for the next gate now."
The two flower crowns were pulled from the bag, still somehow not wilted in the slightest, and he set them down next to the cold fire pit. "I do not expect you to be happy with my decision, but I do expect you to allow it."
Pausing to sweep some of his hair out of his face, the lines now obvious around his mouth and eyes, William Carter sighed again. "I will find a way to get us both out of here, even if it destroys me in the end. This is a land of cruelty and hatred, and I should never have made a deal to bring either of us here." he slid a hand into his pocket, retrieving the bound-together pages of a girl's handwriting, then tucked it into his waistcoat, against his chest.
Not saying another word, he turned his back on the camp and walked away, shouldering the bag and pulling the stone blade from it once it was settled.
When he had awoken the first time, pulled from the throne, he had already had a bag of items, all but three of them now discarded. He had held onto the Codex Umbra and the Dark Sword, the purple gem tucked away in the bottom of his bag. The stone blade that he had crafted was thrown far into the bushes, an angry glint in his eyes as he forged onwards. The Dark Sword was pulled out next, a tight fist wrapping around the hilt of it. His knuckles were white, his lips drawn in a frightening scowl.
William pointed the tip of the blade down, breathing heavily through his nose. "I have met and lost my niece. I had to say goodbye to what little remained of my first love." he could have passed for a dragon in the moment he said this, nostrils flaring angrily. "I will not be forced to do the same to my second."
Shadows sprang up behind him, cast from nothing as he followed a trail he hadn't let himself know until his niece was gone. "And I will not leave you here." he hissed the words out, pure rage shining in his eyes.
"I may not have seen you in the time since we last spoke, but I will not leave you here."