Chapter Text
Ava had been a resident of Reya's realm for an indeterminate amount of time. Without the passage of night and the constant presence of the sun, time seemed to lose its meaning. However, she knew that she had spent enough time here, and her heart longed for her home—Beatrice and Cat's Cradle. Standing before Reya, Ava would accept nothing less than a way back.
Reya's voice resonated with a formal and authoritarian tone as she spoke. "Ava, I must impress upon you that the matter at hand is far from being as straightforward as you may perceive. Traveling between dimensions is not a trivial task; it is a skill that requires immense expertise and understanding."
Ava countered, "I managed to enter this realm quite easily."
Reya let out a weary sigh. "Oh, Ava, you persist in underestimating the complexity of the situation. The portal connecting your reality to this dimension is a direct link. But this portal is different—it leads to an infinite number of other realms and realities."
Ava's eyes sparkled with determination. "I am grateful for all the training I have received here. I feel stronger and more capable than ever before. I know I can do it."
A silence extended between them, each understanding the weight of their respective positions. Finally, Reya relented, her formal authority softened slightly. "Should you persist in your wish, Ava, I shall not obstruct your path. Yet, I warn you about the risks that lie ahead."
Ava's smile widened. Reya led her to the room housing the perpetual arc, its ethereal glow filling the space.
During her time in Reya's realm, Ava had studied the vast complexities of existence, learning about the countless dimensions that sprawled across the multiverse. Each decision made birthed a new dimension, resulting in an infinite number of possibilities that would always be connected to the ones that came before and after.
Even if she failed to land precisely in her own reality, she believed she would be close enough. She also understood that within any given dimension, only one version of herself could exist. If she arrived in a realm where her counterpart was alive, she would seamlessly replace the other Ava, assuming their place. She also could not enter any dimension where her previous version had died.
Regardless of the dimension she found herself in, Ava knew that the connection with her halo remained steadfast. It remained intricately linked to her original self, transcending the boundaries of reality.
Ava's training had honed her control over the halo, surpassing her abilities from when she first arrived. With this newfound mastery, she possessed the means to traverse the dimensions. Although untested, the time felt perfect for her inaugural interdimensional journey.
She took a steadying breath, her body trembling with anticipation as she stood at the precipice of the portal. Concentrating all her focus, Ava prepared herself for the unknown.
"It's time to go back," she declared, her voice resolute.
With those words in her mind, Ava stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the swirling vortex of the interdimensional portal. The portal guided her through the boundless expanse of existence. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, yet Ava was ready to face whatever awaited her on the other side.
[...]
Ava felt her body weighed down, making it a struggle to pry her eyes open, the darkness enveloping her. She attempted to move, but her limbs remained unresponsive. Slowly, the forms in the room materialized, and her heart sank as she recognized the familiar surroundings of the orphanage. Imprisoned in her own body, she lay paralyzed on the bed.
Panic surged within Ava. This couldn't be happening, not here, not again. Her lungs gasped for air, her breath quickened, and tears streamed down her cheeks, as if pleading for release from this unbearable reality.
She fought against her immobility with every ounce of strength, but her efforts only resulted in the thud of her head hitting the pillow repeatedly. Her heart pounded, her breaths grew shallow, and her throat became parched. She resorted to striking her head, desperate for any movement. Then, a flicker of sensation coursed through her right hand—her fingers curled briefly before settling back onto the mattress.
The weight of her despair bore down on her, amplifying her sobs. Her attempts to break free brought her to tears of frustration. The room echoed with her cries, a testament to the life slipping away from her once more, leaving her confined to a bed where she had spent twelve years.
Amidst her anguish, a soft voice reached Ava's ears. "Ava?" called Diego, a small figure emerging from his own bed, drawn to her distress. "Hey, no, no necesitas llorar," (You don't need to cry) he murmured, approaching her with care. "Estoy aquí, no llores," (I'm here, don't cry) he repeated, extending his presence to offer comfort.
Ava's tears intensified, a torrential outpouring of emotion. Her cries reverberated through the quiet room, encapsulating her helplessness. Her life seemed to slip away once more as she lay trapped in the bed, a mere spectator to the passing of time.
Diego's soft voice persisted, urging her to stop crying. He tenderly stroked her head, his touch gentle and comforting. Ava leaned into his presence, allowing her tears to flow unabated, unable to explain everything that had happened to Diego.
Diego had been her only friend for so long, the one person who saw her worth when everyone else made her feel worthless. She had missed him so much.
In that solemn moment, they stood united—Ava, weeping, and Diego, offering solace through gentle caresses and tender words. As Ava's tears dried, Diego gently wiped her cheeks and brushed away the remnants of her sorrow.
Her breathing steadied, and a sense of calm settled within her. The air flowed into her lungs more easily, as if a glimmer of hope had pierced through the darkness.
"Diego," Ava whispered weakly, her voice barely a tremor. "¿Puedes acostarte conmigo? Solo hoy." (Can you lay down with me? Just today.) She felt a little guilt for asking this of the young boy who had already offered her so much, but the prospect of enduring her solitude once more was unbearable.
Without a word, Diego settled onto the bed, shifting her arm aside and laying his head upon her chest. He positioned his arm to create a half-embrace. "¿Estás cómodo así?" (Are you comfortable like this?) he asked, his concern palpable.
"Yeah," Ava replied, her voice gentle and grateful. "Gracias." (Thank you) She pressed a tender kiss upon Diego's head, a small gesture of appreciation. It was the least she could do.
As Ava closed her eyes, the morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm light upon the room. She turned her head, expecting to find Diego still nestled by her side, but to her surprise, he had returned to his own bed, peacefully asleep. It was early morning, before the nuns had started their rounds.
Ava closed her eyes again, and a tingling sensation emanated from her back, a reminder of the connection she still shared with the halo, just as Reya had foretold.
A glimmer of hope flickered within Ava as she contemplated the possibility of escape, of transporting her mind to another reality.
She inhaled deeply, directing her attention to the ethereal presence of the halo. With each breath, she nurtured the halo, sensing its expansion and intensifying energy.
Gradually, a sensation enveloped her, as if her consciousness was being propelled to an unknown destination, detached from her physical form. In the waning moments before her mind succumbed to darkness, the resolute thought echoed within her: she yearned to reclaim her lost life, to return to where Beatrice existed, but it remained an elusive dream, forever out of reach.
[...]
Ava's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of a sunlit white ceiling. With a surge of relief, she sat up, her body now responsive and free from paralysis. Taking in her surroundings, she found herself in a charmingly cluttered room.
Glancing down at herself, Ava discovered she was dressed in a delightful pajama set adorned with colorful pandas. Yet, it was her arms that drew her attention; she had so many tattoos. An intrigued "owo" escaped her lips as she extended her arms, marveling at the intricate artwork.
Compelled to see her transformed reflection, Ava hurried toward the mirror. Her hair had been trimmed into a shorter style, with vibrant pink strands interwoven. Her legs showed more tattoos than she bothered to count, while her ears displayed piercings.
Curiosity piqued, she pushed her shirt to reveal her back, only to find additional tattoos in place of the halo's marks. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to sense the halo's presence, but she couldn't sense it. Perhaps it required more time to recharge before she could try again.
For now, she resolved to wait and adapt to this new reality. It didn't seem like the worst possible outcome as long as she avoided trouble. Everything would work out somehow.
"Ava!" a woman's voice called from beyond the door, followed by insistent knocks. "I swear to God, if you're not ready in 10 minutes, I will drag you out of that bed. We won't be late for work today."
Fuck, this Ava had responsibilities.
"And don't even think about calling in sick. That trick doesn't work on me anymore."
Fuck, this Ava had used that excuse one too many times.
"I'm up," Ava responded.
Alright, time to prepare for work. She could handle it—or so she thought until she realized she had no clue where she worked or what job she had.
The woman outside the door possessed an English accent. Was she in England? Unfortunately, that didn't provide much information.
Looking at her surroundings, Ava attempted to gather as much information as possible. Clothes were all around the floor, a bookshelf overflowed with titles, and various photos depicted her in picturesque tourist destinations. It was evident that this Ava had lived a life of adventure, embracing more than mere survival.
Rushing to the wardrobe, she swung it open. Black pants—a versatile choice—awaited her, and a collection of button-down shirts caught her attention. One, in particular, caught her eye: a light pink shirt adorned with strawberries. Pairing it with a white tank top, the chosen pants, and a pair of All-Stars, Ava struck a balance between casual and professional. It was fitting for wherever she imagined this Ava might work. After a quick tooth-brushing session, where she noticed a tongue piercing, she left the bedroom just in time to avoid being dragged by the other woman.
Taking in her surroundings, Ava admired the elegance of the place. Paintings adorned the walls, photographs captured cherished memories, and nice old furniture spread along the corridors.
Navigating her way to what appeared to be the living room, Ava spotted a woman with long black hair lounging on a large sofa, looking at her phone. Dark makeup accentuated her features, and a nose piercing mirrored Ava's own. Dressed entirely in black, her arms showing similar tattoos, Ava wondered if she would have more on her covered skin.
As the woman's gaze met Ava's, she rose from the sofa, a command in her stride. "Great, let's go." Ava trailed behind her, leaving the apartment building to join the woman who had assumed the role of driver—a blessing, considering Ava's lack of familiarity with the area and inability to drive.
Ava reached out to switch on the music, hoping to create a shield of sound that would spare her from awkward conversations and perhaps offer some clues about her current location. The music filling the car was entirely unfamiliar to Ava.
When the song came to an end, a male voice replaced the melody, discussing traffic conditions and mentioning many streets Ava couldn't even begin to recognize. However, one crucial detail emerged: she was, in fact, in London.
"You're unusually quiet today. Is everything alright?" the woman beside her asked, her gaze never leaving the road.
Ava pondered her response, realizing that an excuse would be the safest route. "Just a bit of a headache," she replied with a forced smile, hoping her explanation seemed plausible.
"I did warn you about stopping after the third beer," the woman remarked without looking at her.
Soon enough, the car came to a stop, and the woman stepped out. Ava hesitated for a moment before the woman reappeared at her window. "Come on," she beckoned, before swiftly moving ahead.
Ava followed her through the streets until they reached a studio adorned with a sign that proudly proclaimed "Boss Bitch Tattoo Studio." Ava's heart skipped a beat—she was a tattoo artist. The realization filled her with excitement but also despair. Her artistic skills were limited; the best she could manage were simple stitches. Ava had never truly learned how to draw properly—her time as a tetraplegic had stopped her progress when she was a child, and after that, she had little opportunity to practice.
The woman unlocked the studio door, illuminating the space with a flick of a switch. Ava trailed behind her, attempting to conceal her excitement. This was her everyday workplace, and she needed to acclimate herself quickly.
The sound of the door opening again caught Ava's attention, and she turned to see a new arrival. A taller woman with curly hair entered the studio. "Look who made it on time, Jay," she exclaimed, addressing the woman who had accompanied Ava from the apartment. Finally, Ava had a name—Jay. She repeated it silently in her mind, afraid she would forget it.
"Why are you lingering out there?" the unnamed woman asked, her gaze fixed on Ava. Uncertain of where she should position herself, Ava hoped that her responsibilities wouldn't entail tattooing today.
"Your station is already available," the unnamed woman indicated, gesturing towards a balcony near the entrance.
"Right," Ava hurriedly made her way to the desk, relieved to discover she was tasked with reception duties. No tattoos for now. She sifted through the papers, attempting to glean any information that might shed light on her circumstances.
Turning on the computer, Ava searched for the date—Friday, May 19th.
A schedule adorned the wall, displaying names. For that Friday morning, only three names were listed: Jay, Lucy, and Harry. Jay, of course, Ava already knew, and the other woman was Lucy. However, there was no sign of Harry.
Their morning unfolded relatively smoothly. At one point, Lucy inquired about Ava's uncharacteristic silence, to which she swiftly responded with a casual "hangover." It proved to be a sufficient excuse to avoid any more questions.
Within moments, two clients arrived, followed by another client assigned to Jay for the morning. Ava overheard their conversations, filled with gossip about unfamiliar people. She tried to participate in the small talk; she had missed these social interactions.
When noon arrived, Lucy called Ava to join them for lunch. Unlike Jay, Lucy seemed more inclined towards casual conversation.
They walked down the street until they reached a big square with an imposing church. Ava's eyes instinctively scanned the surroundings, hoping to see the familiar face of the woman she loved.
While Lucy continued to chatter about various topics, Ava's gaze locked onto Beatrice. "Bea," Ava whispered, momentarily frozen in place. Her heart skipped a beat, and all her worries seemed to fade away.
"BEEEA!" Ava shouted, propelling herself forward, running toward the figure of Beatrice. However, Beatrice remained unresponsive, showing no sign of recognition.
"BEATRICE!" Ava cried out, summoning every ounce of air in her lungs, finally getting a response. As Ava drew closer, she saw Beatrice turning toward her, surprise showing across her features.
Without hesitation, Ava opened her arms and threw herself into Beatrice's space. "I've missed you so much," Ava said, anticipating a reciprocal embrace. However, instead of the expected warmth, she felt Beatrice's body tense against her.
Loosening her grip, Ava looked at Beatrice's face, trying to understand what was wrong. Beatrice appeared utterly shocked, her eyes wide open, and her mouth slightly open. Her body grew rigid, as if she was on the verge of breaking.
"Bea, what's wrong?" Ava extended her hands, attempting to cradle Beatrice's face, only to be met with avoidance.
"Pardon me, but I believe you've mistaken me for someone else," Beatrice replied, her voice laced with uncertainty.
"Bea, it's me," Ava insisted, her voice filled with conviction. Beatrice glanced around at the other nuns.
Ava's smile began to fade. This Beatrice didn't recognize her. It made sense—Ava wasn't the halo bearer here. She was merely a receptionist at a tattoo studio. Their shared experiences in the Alps, the bond they had formed, and the love they had fallen into—none of it existed here. She watched as Beatrice walked away, feeling the weight of losing Beatrice all over again.
A gentle hand landed on Ava's shoulder. She turned to face Lucy, whose expression showed concern. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ava replied, trying to recompose herself.
"Don't tell me she was one of your conquests," Jay chimed in playfully, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.
Ava glanced toward the spot where Beatrice had disappeared with the other nuns before redirecting her attention to the two women in front of her—one displaying genuine concern, the other playful amusement.
This reality seemed pleasant enough. Ava had a nice job, a comfortable apartment, and seemingly good friends. Her life appeared busy and vibrant, yet it lacked Beatrice.
A faint humming sensation took place in her back—the halo. Perhaps the realization that she couldn't have Beatrice in this reality had sparked its reawakening.
She could attempt once more to find her Beatrice—the Beatrice who had become a sister warrior, the one with whom she had fallen deeply in love. The Beatrice she knew reciprocated those feelings.
The one Ava had professed her love to, shared a kiss with, and ultimately sacrificed herself for, allowing Beatrice the chance to live her own life. The one who had fought by Ava's side until the bitter end. Her Beatrice.
With closed eyes, Ava focused her attention on the halo once again, concentrating on the humming. Taking deep breaths, she felt the hum reverberating through her body, filling her with the now-known darkness.
[...]