Chapter Text
The bright glimmer of the Dunes sweltersone shone through the windows, a day like any other. It was nice, comfortable. Ceroba got out of bed, beside her wonderful husband, Chujin. She gave him a smile as she carefully shook him awake.
“ Good morning, sleepyhead. ”
He groaned slightly as he stirred awake.
“ Mph, good morning, my dear. ”
“Now, I’ll get ready and make everyone breakfast, so we all can be ready. I don’t want anyone to be late!”
“Of course, dear, I’ll meet you out there in a moment.”
He smiled, she always loved seeing his smile.
It didn’t take her long to get down the stairs, and into the kitchen. As she looked into the fridge, it was full of many things, most prominently, fresh ears of corn, delivered just yesterday from Starlo’s farm. Sure, it was often that she used those for making food, but it was hard to pass up, it was about the best in the entire underground!
Happily, she grabbed a few, and began to prepare them, along with other vegetables she had on hand. She began by chopping them into smaller pieces, and adding them to a larger pot, along with many spices and other such things. As she added broth, and began to stir, she hummed a song to herself, something was just so… refreshing almost, about this. She had done it many times, countless times, but strangely, she was almost overjoyed to be doing this, as if she hadn’t in so long…
She dismissed the thought, how odd.
Once the meal was done, she called her husband in.
“Honey, would you mind setting the dishes out for me?”
“Of course, thank you for making breakfast again, dear.”
She softly laughed to herself about that, she was usually the one to cook out of the both of them, not out of any lack of care on her husband's part, it's just he had his skills, and she had hers, with cooking firmly being something he wasn’t skilled in, not as much as she was.
As she walked into their dining room, everyone seemed eager, Kanako, Chujin, and Cl-
…
Clover. Why did that feel… strange? Why would seeing them at the kotatsu feel so out of place?
She dismissed the thought again, a small pang of worry crept up her spine, why were things feeling out of place all the sudden? She tried to brush it off as she served everyone and seated herself.
As everyone ate, she managed to soothe her worries, seeing everyone so happy, talking, eating, it was nice. She always loved moments like these.
“Mmmh! This is so good! Thank you, mommy!”
Her daughter piped up, a wide smile on her face. Her sibling, Clover nodded, also beaming.
“I’d have to agree, you’ve outdone yourself!”
“Thank you, I’m always happy to hear that.”
Seeing that everyone had finished, she collected the dishes, to which Clover seemed… confused by. Why would that be?
She dismissed the thought, maybe they wanted more? But they didn’t seem anything but full after eating… She tried to stop questioning these inconsequential things so much. She took the dishes to the sink, and began to wash them, the various juices and bits of spice still left on the bowls being swept away, as if they were never there to begin with.
It was quiet, now. It was so, so quiet. Not the sound of chatter, the creaking of movement, the goodbyes as Chujin had to leave for work, nothing.
It sent shivers down her spine, had it… always been so cold? No, it being cold didn’t remotely make sense, the Dunes were consistently quite hot, it being cold enough for her to shiver was wrong. Something was wrong.
Something was wrong.
In a flash she bolted back into the dining room, only to find the room empty, empty of life. A tall, imposing obelisk that pierced the room sat where her husband had, a shattered mask where her daughter once sat, and a trail of dark crimson fluid, leading from where Clover had sat.
It was coming back now, all of it. She was alone, this home now barely even a house as she let it rot, let it sit, almost unable to bear the weight of her actions, the weight of her past, which this place now only existed to remind her of.
Her gaze followed the trail, every fragment of her soul screamed, begging her not to follow, she need not see what lay down that path, but, as if being twisted by an unseen puppeteer, she followed.
Her trek led her through the Dunes burning sands, the heat almost unbearable despite the black sky, devoid of color, of anything. She Wandered through what seemed to be the Steamworks, the only sound she could hear now was the soft hiss and creak of steam and metal, she had to squeeze through tight passageways, and try not to get cut on various hunks of rusted metal, try not to stumble over the sea of knotted cords and wires.
Finally, she reached the monochrome streets of New Home. Buildings towered over her, extending out of view into the endless abyss above her now. She felt as if she was being watched, judged, from all angles. Eyes peering out from the windows, hundreds upon hundreds of faces, of those she knew, watching her with piercing eyes, eyes full of disdain, of disgust, of hate. She felt the weight of their judgment threaten to crack her soul in two, it almost hurt her physically to stare as they watched, so she turned her head and ran. She ran through the streets, boots now soaking in the bloody trail she was following, the closer she drew the more she begged to wake up, to stop following the path that she knew the ending of.
But she couldn’t
She stepped into an all too familiar rooftop, a cherry tree and its leaves spilling out over what should be the city, but what was now the abyss that consumed everything. And standing, in a pool of crimson red, was Clover. Their skin pale, hair matted, clothes ragged, faded and torn, faced away from her. As her body inched closer, she felt her heart pound, louder, and louder, a ringing in her ears growing louder and louder until she was consumed by the sound, begging for it to stop, pleading for an end.
And then it came, all at once the noise was replaced by an equally deafening quiet. As Clover turned to face her. Their face was gaunt, their eyes hollow pits, with only a flickering spark of yellow within. On their chest was a massive gash, scarred and gushing blood, it was a heart, the shape of their very soul. The soul she was the one to take.
It felt like a lifetime before they spoke, that quiet country accent unmistakable from the voice she heard the few times she had spoken while she knew them.
“What’s with that face, ma’am? You look like something is wrong.”
They shambled closer.
“But that’s not right, is it? This is what you wanted, you were the one to attack me, trying to steal my soul. You were the first to accept when I gave it up, the one to take it. So why do you feel so horrified? This is your fault; this is what you wanted. What you gave up everything you had left to achieve.”
She couldn’t respond. She had taken their soul, tried to kill them for it, attacked her best friend for trying to stop her from getting it. Seeing this ghastly visage only made her hate what she had done more, she had done this, she was the cause of this, to a child-
“...no older than your own.”
Clover spoke, finishing Ceroba’s thought.
“Ain’t that interesting? To save your own child, to protect your people, you try to steal the life of someone else's child. Did you ever think how they would feel? Knowing their beloved child won’t ever be coming home, to know that their child had been taken by the monsters in the mountain? In your selfishness, you hadn’t considered that, had you? Not really.”
The thought had crossed her mind, but she hadn’t let it sink in until it was already too late. Since then, while she had time to think further on the consequences, the thought haunted her, she had taken another mothers child from her. Clover was another mothers Kanako, and she did nothing to stop them from giving their life.
“You really are pathetic. You couldn’t bear the weight of your sins, so you asked me to take your life, to, as you said, “do what needed to be done.”. Ain’t that just rich? The person who made mistake after mistake, hurt person after person, who knew how far gone she was gets to live, to move on, while I die. I gave my life for yours, for the lives of your people.”
She couldn’t bear to look at them further, she crumpled to her knees, eyes burning from tears.
“Even now, you can’t shake that feeling. You think I would hate you, you think I should hate you, you think they all should hate you. You so firmly think you deserve these things; you make up these fantasies to torture yourself with, you dangle the life you once had, the life you could have had, in front of you, and you tear it away from yourself, every time. You want to move on, but you can’t, can you?”
The figure stepped closer, grabbing her face and making her look them in the gaping holes they had in place of eyes.
“You should be better. I would hope you would be better, but until you are able to move beyond this, you’re stuck, trapped in a prison of your own making.”
They stepped away and turned around.
“I think we both know you’ve healed yourself up long enough here. Rise and shine Ceroba, you've got a long day ahead of you.”
Their voice echoed in the darkness, as the ground began to crumble away. She tried to run, to flee to safety, but she was pulled down, into the endless dark, drowning, coughing as she tried to reach for air, screaming for help, all as the figure looked on, those burning sparks of yellow all she could see as she was consumed by the dark.
And then she woke up, heaving, hyperventilating, and eyes wet from tears. She had fallen off the couch she slept on in her terror, she looked around, it seemed like everyone else was still soundly asleep, unaware of her. Good, she thought. She didn’t think she could, or wanted to explain herself, how these dreams affected her, how she worried it would affect them if they knew.
She brushed herself off, and carefully slunk out of the house, and into the heat of the Wild East, closing the door behind her.