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Chapter Text

Daniil stood atop the Polyhedron alongside many other members of the town. Those who survived stood and watched the town below, the scarred and maimed land crying for mercy. It was an evacuation. People funneled inside the Polyhedron like their life depended on it, those who were sick were forced into the Cathedral and killed. It mattered not, they were beyond saving, thought Daniil. The vaccine was almost ready anyway, this could be ended. Prevented. The plague would never come back. He's won.

Well, Daniil didn't get this victory himself. No, this was the Haruspex's doing. The Steppe Surgeon. Artemy.

—

Daniil was nervous, watching as the Haruspex spoke to the Inquisitor with a cold, harsh tone that rivaled the Capital doctor.

"You are the one to make the choice. Yours shall be the mouth to utter my words now. My lips are sealed." Aglaya stated, looking down at Artemy as he glared at her with hate. Daniil never thought he would see the day that an Inquisitor would be glared at like that.

"So you were the sacrifice I was supposed to make?" Asked Artemy.

"I was. If I'm captured and taken off the board, then the Commander will be free to make his move. If you choose Capella's path, then I'll live. If you choose the Bachelor's path, then you'll lead me to the scaffold and fulfill your purpose."

"What is the Bachelor's choice?" Daniil perked up at the mention of his name. The lack of the Changeling girl fascinated him as well: where was she? The Saburovs did pass during the plague, perhaps that was to blame for her lack of appearance.

His wandering mind was forced to focus when Lilich mentioned Daniil.

"Talk to him. There is still time." The Inquisitor muttered, trailing off.

"And yet?"

Lilich glared at Daniil. "The Bachelor intends to exact his revenge on me for... using him. He wants to do it all the other way round -- demolish the city, keep the Polyhedron. If you lead him to victory, you may consider your sacrifice made. You return to the exultant butchers, triumphant." Lilich bore holes into Daniil's heart— and if he were still susceptible to her manipulation he would've gotten on his knees in fear. Daniil was not anymore. He held his ground.

Artemy scoffed, rolling his eyes as Lilich spoke. "I'll ask him myself." He said, turning to the Bachelor and walking towards him. Daniil restrained the urge to grab him by the hands and beg for Artemy to choose his ending. To trust him.

The Bachelor watched as Artemy's face softened, looking at Daniil with such an expression that he felt sick. Hope. Hope in Artemy's face.

Daniil ignored the flame inside of him, instead going back into his cold facade. "I see the Inquisitor lady has charmed you into submission." Daniil licked his lips, "You shouldn't trust her. She'll take advantage of us all; including you." He said the last part as if she were a curse.

"What did she ever do to you?" Artemy put his hand on Daniil's shoulder gently. Fuck. Control yourself, Daniil.

Daniil moved closer to Artemy, close enough that he could feel the surgeon's breath on his lips. Quietly, "She lied to me. Fooled by her, I was acting on her prompts the past few days—" he looked down, he was a fool. A pawn. A toy. "And I even encouraged others to do the same. My discovery has been reinterpreted and presented in a fashion that has turned truth into lies." Daniil looked at Artemy with a desperate frown, "I've been violated."

"So what?"

"Think you're in a better position? She has simply chosen a different tactic for each of us!" He felt his anger rise, his voice getting louder the more she spoke- "She has abused my hate and anger." He motioned to himself, then to Artemy- "She has abused your love and sense of commitment!' How dare she use Artemy's love: she knew not how kind the man could be! Daniil knew– Daniil knew how wonderful he could be if just given a chance. Nights helping Daniil with the plague was his evidence, curing Daniil with one of the few Panacea he had was enough. "I wonder what she did to get to Clara…" he felt sick thinking of the poor girl being used like that- "if she found the Changeling worthy of her schemes at all…"

Artemy raised an eyebrow, grasping Daniil by the shoulders tighter to calm the man. "How do you suggest we destroy her?" He already knew though.

"Destroy the town." Daniil felt the hands on his shoulders twitch— "That will be her death sentence. She is responsible for it before the Powers That Be."

"I understand…" he nodded.

"I suggest you use the chance she is giving you... Or- or do the unexpected. Although... What if she sees through that too? It's scary to think how far her acuity goes…" Artemy looked at Daniil with pity, as if caring. Fuck. Artemy cared, didn't he? "Perhaps I tend to demonize her—" Daniil admitted, "but I am furious about what happened to me…"

"...and you want to keep the Polyhedron intact just to spite her."

Daniil laughed, "Yes and no. The Polyhedron and the Inquisitor are mutually exclusive. The Polyhedron will stand if she's gone -- and vice versa. I suggest you end her. That's how we can keep one of history's greatest monuments for the humankind. It's a sprout of our future."

"And what will happen afterward, oynon?"

"We build a new town across the river. This one will have an opportunity for all. It will serve as a chance for me, you, your bound, those children, to have a future caked in scientific achievement. We will be more advanced than the Capital; those one-track-minded fools are too blind to see what we could do if given the chance. We will have a future so bright we will blind those with the tower of glass and paper." Daniil lit up as he spoke. "Artemy Burakh, if you trust me, we will build a Utopia so wonderful that the world around us will falter at our feet and become ours to mold. I know you are kind. Your favors, your hands in mine, and your kindness proves to be your greatest strength. Use it just once more for me." Daniil urgently pleaded, "You saved my life, Artemy." The casual use of first name— "Give me just one more chance."

"Then." Artemy turned to Lilich, "Die, Inquisitor. Here and now I shall fulfill my destiny and inherit my father's burden. You are my sacrifice."

Lilich frowned, resigned, "As you wish."

The Commander nodded, "So, Burakh the healer... where shall I point the weapon?"

Artemy looked at Daniil, "Let the town be destroyed. But don't fire at the tower of glass. It must survive the tremor of an artillery barrage." He took Daniil's hand, moving him to the front. Daniil looked up at Lilich with a smirk, Artemy chose him. Not her. A final fuck you to the Inquisitor.

"I'm surprised to hear that from you... How can you prove that it's a wise direction to take?" The Commander asked.

"Bachelor Dankovsky will prove it, I trust him." He intertwined Daniil's left hand with his right, finally whole, "And I know nothing about the Tower except that it contains the life that my father has instructed me to preserve."

"We will now be talking to you, Bachelor Dankovsky. Artemy Burakh! Are you sure that you have nothing more to tell me?"

Artemy paused, "I am sure, general. I've made my choice. I trust Dankovsky."

—

To say that Daniil owed Artemy his life was an understatement. He owed Artemy everything: his heart, his love, his hand, his body. Daniil felt arms wrap around his midsection as the Bachelor stared out. "Burakh?" He asked, the smell of twyre a dead giveaway of who stood behind him.

"Dankovsky." Artemy whispered, burying his face in Daniil's neck. Daniil moved his gloved hand to Artemy's arm.

"I didn't notice you climb the Polyhedron. I must've been distracted."

"What's on your mind?"

"I was thinking. Of you mostly."

"Oh?"

Daniil laughed gently, "Pondering about how much I owe you after this." He felt Artemy's demeanor fall as he rested his head on Daniil's shoulder. "I appreciate you trusting me this much. I will make it up in whatever way I can. I hope you know the sacrifices you made today will not go unseen."

"I trust you oynon, I keep saying it but I don't know what else there is to say. I trust what you say about the new town." Artemy sighed, "And you are one of the few people who have had my back in these 12 cursed days. You fed me, protected me, spoke to me, treated me decently. I would be a fool to not trust you."

"Then I will not let you down, Haruspex."

"I sure hope so."

Chapter Text

Clara woke up in an empty grave yet again. A dark sky met her eyes as she yawned. It felt like she just awoke from a year-long nap. Confusion and panic overtook her for a second– it was loud despite it being what must be early morning— and things felt off. She was eerily unsure of what to do, but she knew she had to stand. So she stood up. A quick glance at her surroundings confirmed what she needed to know: this was not the Town on Gorkhon. This was something far worse than what the once-town was. Instead of brick and mortar, the graveyard she awoke in was ivory and ash.

Where was the town?

Why was she in a grave?

Where was she?

What did she last remember?

Clara hit her head against her hands, trying to restart her brain. Digging in her memories, it came back to her. She remembered watching the Town fall from the Polyhedron before falling asleep. That's where the town went. She was presumably in the new town cemetery as the ivory was unfamiliar but still familiar. They shared a similar dirt. Cousins.. As for why she was in a grave? She hadn't a clue.

Stretching her cramped arms, Clara began to make a mental list in her head of things she was to do. An adult, first and foremost, would be most important to find. Someone she knew. Rubin, Grief, Anna, Lara, Artemy or Daniil first came to her mind. They would house her until she got her shit back together (if that would ever happen) and explain to her what has happened. And since this was a graveyard, Grace must be nearby. She added that to her mental list which steadily grew the more she thought. She was hungry. She was thirsty. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on before she had a panic attack.

She looked around— it was early morning and soft dew lay on the dry steppe grass. Clara exhaled, her breath visible from the cold. She was cold. Shelter instantly skyrocketed to the top of her list, she decided. Clara began to walk to the close little home that lay on the Cemetery premises. Grace's home. Her legs wobbled from disuse and… pain? Clara bent her knee, crying out when it cracked and moved. That was new. Clara hurriedly made her way to the small home, knocking on the door.

"One second. I will tend to you in but a moment!" Called someone from the other side. Clara raised an eyebrow. The voice was unfamiliar. It was too deep, too strong to be Grace. Boxes and things moving on the other side proved the only indicator that anyone was home as the light was off. Suspicious of the individual on the other side, Clara backed off. As the door opened, she was greeted by an unfamiliar face.

"You're not Grace." She pointed out, her voice laced with disappointment. "Where's Grace?" Did this lady murder her?! No, that's ridiculous Clara. Calm down.

The woman, with brown hair, tall, dressed in brown, shrugged. "I don't know who Grace is. Where did you come from anyway? I swear I locked up this place."

"I… I fell asleep at the Graveyard while visiting family." Clara lied, biting her tongue. "I cried a lot, I got tired… I'm sorry." How did she not know Grace?! Everyone knows Grace?! The child graveyard caretaker! This was intrinsically wrong

The woman smiled softly, "Do you want me to walk you home?" She asked. Despite her warm demeanor, Clara felt panic rise in her chest. Fear. Fear. Fear. This was wrong. Well, she knew it was going to be wrong when she awoke in the grave surrounded by ash instead of twyre. But this was far more wrong than she thought. "Come on, let me unlock the gates for you." The woman offered, taking off a ring of keys from the wall.

Gates. The Cemetery closed. Grace would have never closed the Cemetery, it was open all of the time— the dead never needed to be trapped. This wasn't Grace. This town was completely, fundamentally, and horrifically bad. They took Grace away from the graveyard. How could they have done that to her?! Don't they know she needs to be here?!

Juxtaposed to the panic in her mind, Clara simply muttered a soft "Okay." her voice calm despite her panic growing rapidly. She needed to find someone. Anyone to get her to something familiar. Where was she?! The brown-haired woman began to guide Clara through rows of graves, all of them pristinely lined up, unnaturally perfect in how straight everything was. The air was less thick than it was in the Town on Gorkhon. The sky was too blue. What was once natural cobblestone was now pillars of ivory. The town was noisy, far too loud than it should be. Even the plague-infested mornings were quieter than this.

She heard people chatting, footsteps all over, and businesses opening. Everything was too loud. Too much. Clara ran over to the gates, leaving without saying a word once Not-Grace opened the gates.

Then Clara ran. The brown-haired lady was left behind as Clara ran as fast as she could. Her mind wanted to follow the route to the Saburovs, to the Stillwater, even the Trammel— but none of it was right. The town was completely different, she realized once she ran into it. It was no longer even similar to what Clara knew, instead of a beautiful winding maze of similar buildings made of clay, Clara was met with what could be best described as a neighborhood. A nice one. Cobble paths were now concrete, streets bustling. She looked to the right of her, the Polyhedron standing where it should not. The Polyhedron should be on the left side of where she was standing, not the right. Clara began to hyperventilate, how long was she asleep for?! How long was she returned to the Earth and why was she released now?!

This was obviously the new town, but a town this big being sprouted so quickly?! She must've been asleep for at least 20 years! Turning to the left, Clara was met with industrial factories and a crowded city. It was a thick block of concrete buildings, it almost looked like the Termitary— but that was not the Termitary. None of this was right. This town emanated progress, far different from the Town on Gorkhon.

Clara bit her lip, tears rolling down her cheeks. Where was she?! This was not the town she fought tooth and nail to protect– no, this was something far different. It wasn't fair! This wasn't fair! She worked so hard to protect everyone and she never got to see it… never got to see it prosper. No. She must have been asleep for dozens of years, those she cared for old or dead. She fell to her knees, watching as adults dressed in fancy clothes unrecognizable to her stared curiously. She grasped her hat, trying to block out their rude stares. She was scared, couldn't they see? She felt her nose clog up, her knees burning the more she relaxed her weight on them. They screamed at her to release the pressure, to sit down properly but Clara couldn't move.

She felt a hand on her shoulder— and on reflex, she reached for her pocket for her small gun only to be met with nothing. She didn't even have her weapon. She snarled, backing up from the adults that dared touch her— they'd get her sick! Clara felt another hand touch her. They didn't ask. They didn't know her. She knew nothing apparently! She felt another pair of hands grasp at her shoulders. She thrashed, sinking her teeth into the arm

"Fucking bitch! She's gone mad!" Cried a voice from behind her as someone restrained her. Rage spat from them as they tightened their hold the more she struggled.

"She must be ill. Someone must send her to the Hospital!"

"That's halfway across the town!"

"Then knock her out!"

"She's a kid!"

Clara thrashed more, fighting against the adults holding her back. She felt a hand wrap around her hat, pulling it off while another person held her hair. "Stop! Stop! Don't — give it back!" She wailed, her voice high and keen as she screamed louder. Her screaming was cut off as she felt her hair being pulled. She let out a pathetic cry.

"Stop struggling! We want to help you, dear." Said a womanly voice as the woman swatted at the man holding her. He let go, forcing Clara to fall onto her legs unceremoniously. Clara whined at it, falling down again. "We want to help you… what is your name, dear?"

"C-Clara.." she whispered.

"Like the Changeling?" Clara realized that a crowd formed, her face reddening at the realization. She just had a public mental breakdown.

She looked desperately at the kind woman, "Make them go away." Clara begged, refusing to even glance at the crowd. She feared their reactions— she imagined faces twisting in disgust and fear.

"Don't say her name!" A voice chastised. Another voice piped in, something about a witch. The plague returning. Another voice countered that. Another voice and another voice— and Clara felt her heart rate spike. So many people- too much.

"It's too loud." She whispered, "Please. Please make them go away."

"Clara, dear, can you stand up?" The woman asked instead.

"I want my hat back." She demanded.

"We can give it back, but I need to know if you can stand. Everyone, please give her space. She is a scared and obviously ill child, not an animal or exhibit. You are all adults, act like one. The party is over!" The woman shouted. Her voice echoed, loud akin to the gunshots Clara knew very well. #he had an accent, Clara realized. Was she part of the Kin, perhaps?

"Her name is Clara! Like the Changeling!"

"Has she really returned?"

"Who's the Changeling?!"

The woman got loud again, fire burning in her eyes like a protective mother. "Everyone fucking leave before I have you all thrown in the river!" The voices began to get quiet as the crowd dispersed slowly. The woman pointed her attention back to Clara, her expression instantly softening. "My name is Camille. Can you stand, Clara?"

Clara attempted to stand, feeling a throbbing pain shoot from her knee. It felt like her legs were on fire, injected with liquid hot magma. "...no." Clara watched as Camille got onto her knees, sitting in front of her, holding Clara's hand. "My legs hurt too much." When Clara looked up, she realized just how different Camille looked to anyone she'd met. Camille had long blonde hair and blue eyes, skin pale and glistening under the morning sun. Her eyes were downturned too— and her accent hinted she wasn't from around her. Her clothes were too nice to be from her too. Clara hid her panic at the realization she was a foreigner, a confirmation.

"Okay. I think I can carry you if you let me. Is that okay Clara?" Camille soothed the girl, her voice soft as she brushed Clara's hair out of her face. Camille had soft hands.

"Where's my hat?"

She looked around, spotting the red fabric on the floor. "It's right here, dear. Clara, I have some friends at the hospital. Is it okay if I carry you to the hospital?" She handed Clara the hat, watching as the girl put it on, struggling against the tremors her hands adopted from the meltdown.

Hospital. If Daniil, Rubin, or Artemy were alive, they'd be there. "Please. I don't know where I am. Who anyone is– I—" Clara willed her tears away. "Do you know who Bachelor Daniil Dankovsky is? Or Rubin Stakh? Artemy Burakh?" Please say yes. Please say yes.

Camille nodded, "I know of all three. Why?"

Clara's panic subsided. They were still alive. Thank god. Relief flooded her brain, a soft blanket of morphine-like calmness overtaking her. "I— please take me to them."

Camille shook her head, her voice firm but gentle, "I will take you to a hospital first, and then I will fetch Dankovsky, Stakh, or Burakh. Is that okay?" She asked though Clara knew it mattered not what she said.

"Okay." Clara surrendered, closing her eyes. Camille put an arm under her neck, and another under her knees. She stood up as if Clara weighed nothing, and began to walk. The town truly was different, noticing how the rooftops were decorated beautifully as if each building was a piece of art. It served as a nice distraction from the throbbing pain in her legs. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

"You look like the Changeling dressed like that. That's why I'm bringing you to the hospital, dear. You must be truly ill if you choose to dress like her." Camille explained, "Especially coming from the Graveyard like that. That's how the Changeling was born."

"What… what's wrong with the Changeling?" Did she become some folk rumor or something?!

"I'm not from around here—" so she was right. "-but from the stories I've heard, she was this little girl who was the plague incarnate. Burakh and Dankovsky still defend her to this day. You must be truly ill, girl. Sharing a name with the Changeling… dressing like her… claiming to not know the tale. Delusional, I say. I am not a doctor though."

Clara's heart dropped. She was a curse. A plague. Her sacrifices went unknown– she was a plaguebringer. Clara felt her stomach boil, her heart beat twice as fast, her hands cramped, her legs hurt— and tears fell again. She shook like a scared animal, wails filling the streets as she felt despair wash over her. She was not remembered for her actions— but her sister's. It hit her like a thousand-pound bull, that realization, causing her to cry even harder. Each and every person she healed she took on the pain and fought through it, healing another. She quite literally tore herself apart to fix others– and this is how they remember her? As a plague bringer? A witch?

Anguish filled her, the intense one after other realizations serving as punches to her already vulnerable heart. Agony, suffering, confusion, misery— all that while being in so much pain. Why did she hurt so goddamn much?! She tightened her arms around Camille, soaking the woman in tears. Camille gently hummed to her as Clara wailed. She simply let her cry, carrying the girl softly, gently, like a small doll.

Clara's screams turned to sobs, and fell to soft whimpers as exhaustion eventually overtook her— she felt her head fall to rest on Camille's chest. Eventually, she was fast asleep in Camille's comforting arms.

She slept dreamlessly.

—

Bachelor Daniil Dankovsky was sitting at his desk when he heard a knock on the door. “Bachelor Dankovsky?” asked a voice from the other side. Daniil sighed, putting down his pen. Writing letters was always his weakness– he cringed at remembering the letters he sent Artemy during the plague.

“Yes?”

“Mistress Maria is here. Waiting to speak to you.”

Daniil felt the color from his face drain– “Come in.” he muttered. Did he do something?! What did he do to warrant a visit from Maria?! He calmed his rampant

The door opened revealing Maria, draped in dark scarlet. Daniil, like usual, could not read her expression. “Dankovsky. Have you heard the news?” she asked, her voice dripping with anticipation. She stood at the doorway, unmoving, unblinking. She was the epitome of perfection.

“No, I have been inside of my office all day. I am swamped with affairs if you could put it that way.”

Maria scoffed, “This is far more important than whatever affairs may be awaiting you in the future, Dankovsky.” She sat down on Danii’s desk, looking down at him from her throne of papers. “This is– to put it lightly, a danger to Utopia. Rumor has been spreading quickly and I knew that you would be best fit dealing with this situation” she said the last word with so much venom Daniil feared this threat. What could possibly be so bad that Maria worries?

Hypotheses filled his mind– was the plague back? Was there a war incoming? Was there a revolt? A revolution– no…  Vlad the Younger would’ve been the most fit for a revolt or revolution. Daniil calmed his mind, making himself respectable in front of her. “What is it, Maria? I care not for your teasing– I want to know what is threatening our very Utopia.”

Maria took a breath, “Did you hear the Changeling has returned to the town? Earlier today she was reported to have crawled out of a grave and had… a public breakdown. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. She is currently in the hospital if you are curious.”

“What? Clara has returned? The girl? Didn’t you report her death?!”

“Yes– I saw her in a vision buried six feet under. I assumed that when the town fell, she did too. It made sense, being born of the clay and Earth like she was. However, she seems to have climbed her way out of that grave of hers. Do you see the threat she poses?” Maria studied her nails as if completely and utterly disinterested despite the urgency.

Daniil shook his head, “I don’t quite understand, Maria. She is but a small girl, the Saburovs are dead. What threat does she pose?”

Maria stood up swiftly, frowning at him. “Your pitiful mind was not meant for rule, Dankovsky. This poses the most dangerous threat yet. She holds power and now that she has come back, what rumors of her will arise? She is a threat to everything that you hold dear. Your little family, your husband. Dankovsky, she is a plague-bringer. The fabled shabnak-adyr. If I were a more foolish girl, I would say she would bring the plague back.”

Daniil looked down, embarrassed. How did he miss such an important point?! “Apologies Maria, I forgot about her sainthood but for a moment.” He didn’t quite believe in it either, but Maria needed her taken care of and… she must’ve believed in part of it.

“Obviously.” she dismissively sighed.

“What does she have to do with me?”

“She trusts you, Dankovsky. I don’t know if you noticed, but she would be willing to follow you. I know people like her.” Maria bowed her head for a moment before returning to.

“Like her?” Daniil asked.

Maria nodded, “Speak to her. I need you to talk to Clara for me. She does not trust me, at least the last time I spoke to her she did not trust me.”

“What do I tell her?! If what you speak is the truth, what am I to expect from a girl who… climbed out of her own grave? God, I must interview her too. She came back from dea-”

“Snap out of it, Bachelor!” Maria screamed, “We don’t care about that right now. What we need is for her to be under our control. If Capella or some other individual gets to her first, we will be at an advantage outright. She is like a duckling right now— I have reason to believe the first adult she talks to she will latch onto."

"A duckling? Are you saying…"

"I once again have reason to believe that Clara will be the most under our control if you adopt her as your own, then perhaps… I must think. Dankovsky, your mission is to care for Clara. Convince her to stay with you." Maria commanded, simple, blunt, and to the point like a true Scarlet Mistress. “Surely you would not mind another child under your care?”

"How do you know this, Maria? That she would not mind being under my care? That she would so easily become obedient to us? You didn’t know her like I did. An everlong rebellious girl who would not falter to any!” Daniil argued, “I am– I was not born to be a father. I’m too busy for yet another child and I don’t think that Artemy would want to care for her either. Maria, surely–” His arguments were soon dampened as Maria walked over to his side of the desk, grabbing him by his cravat, her eyes a fiery black, he’s never quite met Nina, but from the stories he was told and the paintings he’s seen she was but a spitting image of her mother. Dark hair cascading scarlet, face red as she held the Bachelor.

“Do you dare question my authority or choices? Do you think you would know better than me?!” Maria laughed haughtily, letting go of his cravat as she towered over him. “Shall I remind you that you didn’t even make this happen? It is your far more successful husband that gave you this. You hold no authority to fight back against my orders. This is not up for debate, Bachelor. You can push aside your ego that was falsely built under this Utopia in which I and your husband have created.” Daniil felt as if he was being dissected under the Inquisitor yet again, his singular loose thread being pulled as he unraveled in front of the Scarlet Mistress– the Inquisitor, Nina– “You are nothing underneath me, it is a privilege that I hold you in such high regard, Dankovsky. You are lucky that your husband took your marriage proposal and honored it. If I were him, I would’ve said no. Remember that I gave you this, I can take it away if I so choose. I’m not even asking for much!” Maria walked towards the door, her back turned as she continued to walk. “I am asking you to house a scared girl who awoke after dying. Are you really what people say you are? A selfish man who cares more about fighting death than a girl who needs a family?” Maria chuckled yet again, “If I hear you did not run to the hospital to visit her the second I left… god help you.” And with that, she left.

Daniil was left by himself in his office, the sun shining through his open windows, alone. Was he selfish? Was he cruel? Daniil Dankovsky was a failure to all. He couldn’t even save them by his own hand– no. No, it wasn’t even Daniil who got this ending.

He stood up, preparing his things. He had one goal now, one mission. Daniil would not let Maria down.

Chapter Text

Clara awoke to the sounds of distant chatter, the smell of asinine cleaning solutions, and a pounding headache. If it were not for the fact she felt the rest of her body numb, she was sure she would feel pain everywhere else. Opening her eyes, she was met with a stark white room. Next to her sat a few empty chairs, a bedside table, and a small cabinet full of bottles. It seemed Camille held true to her promises and turned her into the hospital as she said she would. Clara sat up, stretching her neck and arms. The unpleasant cracking noise her body made concerned her slightly. As she threw her legs over the side of the bed, she was happy to find she still held control over them. Upon standing, Clara nearly fell, grunting in pain as her weak legs tried to hold up her weight. Biting her lip, Clara walked nonetheless. As pain shot from her ankles to her knees the second she moved, Clara wobbled her way to the window. Upon opening the blinds, Clara noticed the sun was waning.

She must’ve been out for hours. Dammit. Chastising herself for failing to be productive on her first day back, she tried to open the window. Locked. She checked her pockets for lockpicks only to find absolutely no pockets. Of course, she was in the hospital. A proper one.

Swearing gently to herself, she made her way to the door. She put her ear against the wood, the chattering still as distant as it was before. Guiding her hand to the cold metal of the door handle, Clara opened it with a soft creak. Peeking her head outside, Clara was met with an empty hall. Taking a step, she was careful to close the door quietly enough so as to not warn any hospital staff of her presence. She began to walk, gently making her way to the nearest door. As if fate itself were trying to fuck her over, she was met with a large open room to the left of her.

“Clara?” A familiar voice called from the left, her head turning to be met with an even more familiar face.

Bachelor Dankovsky sat on a waiting chair, a clipboard in hand. “Dankovsky?” she asked, relief flooding her panic-riddled mind. “Dankovsky?! Is that you?!”

“Yes, Clara. Quiet down, would you?” he asked. Daniil stood up, putting his things down on the chair behind him. He turned to Clara with a gentle smile, “I’ll get a nurs-” his words were interrupted by Clara running to him, enveloping him in a hug. “Clara?”

“Apologies, Bachelor. I have just had the weirdest few hours of my life, it is welcoming to see a familiar face after all this. Part of me wonders if this is but a fever dream and I caught the plague…” she trailed off, burying her face into his shoulder. She was then pulled away by a nurse.

“Miss Clara, you have to return to your hospital room. I’d hate to have to pull you away from…” The nurse motioned to Daniil.

“An old friend. Can he come with us? I have many questions and–”

The nurse shook her head, “We must do rudimentary basic exams on you first to prove you are not sickly or urgently hurt, and then–”

“No, she’s fine.” Said a voice from behind, echoing in the small waiting room. Clara turned her head to be met by the Haruspex’s recognizable stature.

“Burakh! It’s you!”

“Burakh?” Asked the nurse, raising an eyebrow. Daniil looked away, embarrassed as Artemy sighed while the nurse continued, “Do you mean Doctor Dankovsky?”

“W-what? No, I mean Artemy Burakh? The big one?” Clara questioned, squinting her eyes, “It must be a fever dream, I’ve decided. I will awake on the floor while the plague ravages the town and I, sick…” she decided, pinching her arm. “See, I will awake and-”

Artemy cut her off, “Just take let us take her to her room. Daniil and I need to speak to her as soon as possible. Orders from Maria Kaina herself.” he demanded, the nurse backing off as he took Clara by her hand.

“So this is not a dream? But real? Why did she call you Doctor Dankovsky? How long has it been? Why- how.. Huh?!”

Daniil followed behind them as he opened the door, guiding Clara aside. “What is the last thing you remember, dear?”

“Uhh…” She was guided to her bed as Daniil and Artemy moved the chairs to either side of her bed. Artemy unlatched a clipboard from the wall, writing down as she spoke, “I remember sitting down on the polyhedron stairs, falling asleep, and waking up in a shallow grave here. That is all.”

Daniil looked at Artemy with a concerned expression, “Clara, pumpkin. It has been two years since the plague-”

“Two years…” she repeated, “Not as bad as I thought it was. I thought it was at least twenty or even one hundred years. How did things progress so quickly? Where- where is everyone else?”

“Calm, Clara. The town has gotten this big in two years due to Maria’s influence and our unlimited supplies upon her… speaking with the Powers that Be and such. It’s not twenty years, Clara. You’re okay.”

“Why did she call Artemy ‘Doctor Dankovsky’, too?”

Artemy sighed, “We are married, Clara. Daniil and I married and I took his last name.”

“Yes…” Daniil confirmed.

Clara’s eyes widened before nodding, laughing gently. “Okay then. Well, that was simpler than I thought. So what you are saying is that,” Clara began, “I woke up in a shallow grave two years into the future and Maria is in charge because she got the Utopia she wanted and you are married to Daniil and the town is really big and successful and-”

“Yes. Yes, to that all.”

“You are taking this better than I thought you would.” Daniil admitted.

“I– well… whatever story or role I am meant to play I will play. Part of me says to fight back or be confused but…” Clara laughed, “I’m worried. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do but there is no point in being so.”

“Well, I think you’re fine then. Spouting cryptics as per usual.” Artemy decided, putting down his clipboard, “You had us worried for so long. Kaina deemed you dead, you know. She said that you were dead and that there was no reason to assume otherwise.”

“Yes… I got called a witch and plague-bringer. The Changeling they said.”

Daniil let out a chuckle, “Stupid folktales that survivors spread to pin the plague on someone.”

“Do I have a valid reason to worry for my safety?”

“No, Clara. Earlier today, Kaina deemed you under her protection. No one would dare touch you with such an important decree from our head mistress.” Daniil took Clara’s hand, “Speaking of Maria’s decrees, you have been put under my protection. I am to take care of you instead of being put into Ravel Orphanage. Clara, if you would let me, would you come home with me? We have a room waiting for you and will provide for anything you’d like.”

Artemy sighed, “And no, we do not know why Maria Kaina has put you under our protection.”

Daniil glared at Artemy, “I think it is because we are familiar faces–”

“And she wants me under her control.” Clara laughed, “I see right through her rouse. She deems me someone who is to be worried for because of my… unique powers.”

“Er– I am not so sure of that part.” Daniil chuckled, sweat falling down his forehead. Clara scoffed. I see right through you, Daniil. She didn’t say.

She simply nodded instead, “I see. Okay. I do not mind going with you two then. It is better than being an orphan, I suppose. Though, I would like to know what you plan on doing with me.”

“I would like to study you if you do not mind. You did come back from death which is… utterly fascinating.”

“She is not an experiment, Danya. She has just awoken from death for two years. I don’t think–”

Clara put her hand on Artemy’s shoulder, “I appreciate that. Perhaps in a few days, Daniil.”

“I didn’t mean now! I– whatever. Pack your things, Clara, I will take you home. Artemy is still on his shift.”

“I need my clothes, then.”

Daniil’s face lit up, “Actually!” he ran outside of the room for a second, coming back with his bag, “Maria has supplied you with a few outfits. Here, I have one with me. I don’t think it would be a good thing to make you wear your dirty old tattered clothes–” he handed Clara the black bag, “Here. We will leave while you get dressed.”

Artemy nodded, standing up. “I’ll be home for dinner. I’ll see you then.”

Chapter Text

Blue was the first thing Clara noticed about the outfit she wore. Unlike her usual green and red, Clara found herself draped in blue and white from head to toe. It was a simple dress, thin and flowing but it was blue. It looked a lot like Lilich’s dress in the pattern except blue. Blue of all colors. The second thing she noticed was when Clara took Daniil’s hand as he guided her home. She had no gloves. In her old outfit she had at least a few scraps of fabric but with no fabric in between their hands, Clara felt just how cold his hand was. Whilst she often touched others with a barrier in-between, even but slightly and Daniil with his gloves, there was something about touching his bare hand. Perhaps it was his uncalloused skin or bones protruding from flesh– but it felt wrong to touch his hand, yet he held it while taking her across the bridge.

“Where are we, Dankovsky?” She questioned as she pointed to the new buildings. Whereas the buildings in the Town on Gorkhon were made of stone and brick, Utopia was made of Ivory and some material Clara could not farce. Something about the town was as if the Polyhedron herself shed bits and pieces into the land, growing from nothingness. “As in, what is this town?”

Daniil’s smile grew, “This is what we call Utopia, dear. It’s a town of arts and sciences specifically. This building–” Daniil stopped walking, grinning up at it, “Is a museum. It serves as an exhibition hall for artists from Utopia to share their works. It’s one of our largest tourist attractions. Andrey Stamatin runs this. Peter is busy making his art to run it but he has a large exhibition here.”

“Of arts and sciences?” Clara asked, tilting her head.

“Yes. Utopia is advertised as being a place where anyone can make a living for themselves, dear. If you are a scientist, an entrepreneur, or an artist, Utopia focuses on not dampening anyone’s potential, unlike the Powers that Be in the Capital. Free from restraints in both the market and free thought, it’s a true place where we can express ourselves. If you couldn’t tell, I work in the sciences. Thanatica II, as I like to call it. I plan on taking you there sometime, just for a few tests. Harmless, really.” Daniil kept walking as Clara followed behind. He stopped holding her hand as he began to talk. Her fingers twitched, feeling empty.

“Thanatica II.. you study how to defeat death, yes?”

“Indeed. Mark Imortell, if you remember him, runs the theatre here.” He changed the topic, pointing to the theatre in front of them. “We have it next to the museum as the town is nicely organized by what the building is meant for. I helped create the layout alongside Yulia Lyuricheva and the Stamatins. We focused on ease of travel and organization much like a cabinet. The place we were in earlier was the Science and Medicine District. Artemy runs most of it, actually. The area behind it was the Industrial District, we don’t go there often as it’s quite… unseemly.”

“I’d like to see it sometime, Dankovsky.”

“Perhaps sometime.” He swiftly waved away her words, “Back to the theatre– Mark calls the theatre the Theatre du Grand Guignol II, made to be free from what is allowed and not allowed in art. We should see a play sometime. He writes them all himself.”

Clara found her eyes wandering as Daniil continued to spout information at her as if he were some kind of history textbook. “Okay. What’s that area?” She pointed to a large open plaza. The place was full of people unlike the rather empty streets of the areas before, unlike the two other districts she saw, this one also seemed to be under construction if the loud noises of things being built were anything to go by. That and the very bright construction tape that decorated the area.

“That is the shopping district, my dear. You can find the finest of sellers there, from tailors to cooks to stylists. I’m quite proud of helping create that too. That’s where you’d find the businesses. Many people find themselves living there too, being near their places of work proves successful.” Daniil said as he continued to walk, entering the bustling plaza. Clara ran to catch up, navigating the crowds with struggle. Why did he let go of her hand? It would be so much easier to stay caught up if he just kept holding her damn hand. “There’s a good few places I’d recommend you if you’re interested, but that’s a topic for another day. We can go shopping tomorrow if you’d be interested though.” He offered, looking back at her. Clara gave him a desperate look as he grabbed her hand again. “Sorry. I got a bit distracted, my apologies dear.”

“I-it’s fine.” She stuttered, “What’s beyond this?”

“Well, there’s the general housing for those who don’t work in the Industrial or Shopping district. Think the non-laborers. To the right is the Cemetery, the place you awoke in earlier today...” Daniil looked up, his eyes widening. “It’s getting late, we should start heading home quicker. I don’t want to be caught in the dark.”

“Okay.” She said. She’s barely said a word to him and yet he’s gone on for what? Half an hour about this town? Clara rolled her eyes, letting out a frustrated groan. Something about this all felt so wrong– being adopted by Daniil of all people, him giving her a damn tour of the town like some tour guide then sleeping at his home in a room all for her. As they crossed the staircase from the shopping district to the housing district, Clara’s eyes wandered around her surroundings. Sickly ivory and red scarlet adorned the town, white and red, the colors of Maria’s world. Concrete paved the ground, no longer cobblestone like the Town on Gorkhon. This wasn’t the Town on Gorkhon, this was truly Utopia, and it proved in how the homes were decorated. Instead of the same few homes over and over, each home looked unique in architecture. From towers and houses of almost all glass, each house danced upon the line of art and building, as if trying to break that line altogether.

This was Utopia, of arts and sciences, the Bachelor said.

Clara hated it. Her eyes then wandered to a large building, black, unlike the rest of the houses. She let go of Daniil’s hand, and wandered over to the building, curiosity being the only thing on her mind. “What is this?” She asked.

“That’s the Memorial. A place to honor those who died from the plague. Capella requested it be made. Maria obliged.” He said, following behind her. Clara’s hands danced along the metal plaques, tracing hundreds of small names. Thousands died only to be remembered by a small name engraving. Daniil sighed, tracing a name that seemed slightly more worn down than the rest. Eva Yan, it read.

As Clara traveled to each plaque, one seemed larger than the rest. “Alexander Saburov. Katerina Saburov.” She read aloud, the name under it being “Clara Saburov.” While the rest of the plaques seemed worn down at least to some extent, this one was as shiny as the day it was installed.

“Yes. Capella requested that you guys get a large one as they were a previous ruling family.”

“Why is this one untouched like everyone else’s?” she asked, her eyes watering slightly.

Daniil stayed silent, it didn’t need to be said. Plague bringer, she knew. “No one remembered me for my sacrifices, did they?”

“No.”

“Did you know every time I healed someone, I took their pain? That’s why I ache so badly now, I think. I am feeling all the pain I took from others. I healed hundreds, Dankovsky.” She looked at her reflection in the plaque, the silver a mirror. “They don’t remember me for what I did. They don’t know what I did.”

“They needed a scapegoat. You served as said scapegoat.” Daniil said, walking behind Clara to put a hand on her shoulder.

“I sacrificed so much, Daniil.” She looked at him in the reflection, “Do you know what I did with the Saburovs? What I did do to make the town safe? How much I hurt from–”

“No. No one lived to tell that story. You’re alive now. Tell it, Clara. Tell me.” Daniil requested, watching as Clara’s eyes watered.

“I had to do so much for them. Each day I was given a task more harsh than the next then–” Clara put her hands on her face, hiding it. Her voice came out muffled, “They kicked me out when I wasn’t able to do enough. I was useless to them. What’s a girl to do when she is proven useless? To continue going on as usual? No– then Block took me in but he wanted to use me to ravage the world in a holy war.” Clara turned to Daniil, looking up at him. At this moment, his face softened. As if realizing for the first time that while she might not be the left or right hand, she was a part of the body too. Seeing her for the child she was, Daniil’s demeanor became gentle. She sobbed quietly as she spoke. “I then died. I died with no one to mourn me, Daniil. My name is barely touched on this plaque. No one cared for me after all I did–”

Daniil hushed her sobs with a gentle embrace, holding her gently. “I thought of you often. I wondered how you died. I should’ve done more. Defended you more– I tried, Clara. I swear on it, I did.”

“I’ve gone down in history as a witch! An awful girl who spread the plague on purpose. Who killed and hurt and–”

Daniil got onto his knees, holding Clara by the shoulders as he spoke. “Clara, you are no longer the girl on that plaque. You can be more than a plague bringer if you’d like now. You’re alive again and that name is no longer yours. You are not a Saburov, pumpkin.”

Clara’s face turned red, her eyebrows furrowing in anger– “As- as if that’s much better! Having no family name is far worse, Dankovsky! I’m a no-one. I’m the changeling… I’m a witch. A monster. Everyone was right– there is no place here for a witch to live with a family! I don’t deserve one. I let them die, Daniil. I could’ve saved Katerina and Alexander but I did not!” She admitted, screaming loudly, “I let them die because I was angry and petty and I regretted it afterward but it was too late! I lost my only family name because of my pettiness! Of my anger and of my–”

Daniil wrapped his hands around her, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he petted her head, “Clara, it wasn’t fair to put that pressure on you. It’s no child’s job to dictate who lives or dies. Don’t beat yourself up over that. From what I hear, they did not treat you well. It’s not your fault, Clara. It wasn’t your fault they died, you are… can I be honest, my dear?”

Clara nodded.

“I never saw you as a child until I saw you hunted down on those streets. Seeing a mob of people attack you broke a wall in me and I housed you in safety because of it. I thought of you often once you died– I assumed you just left on the first train out if I am being honest– and seeing you like this…” Daniil sighed, looking at the plaque with her name, “I’m sorry Clara. I’m sorry I treated you like I did and I neglected to see your hurt.”

He felt tears pool on his white shirt, her sobs becoming louder in his ear. “Clara, if you’d so like and if you’d let me, we can take your identity off that plaque. You’re no longer Clara Saburova, you can take Dankovskaya instead.”

“Dankov…” She started as if trying out the name for the first time, “Dankovskaya? Clara Dankovskaya.”

“I was deemed your legal guardian by the highest power in this town. You are under my care, my bound now, and it is only fitting you wash yourself of that filthy last name and become more than what they were. What they treated you like. You can choose your name now.”

“Clara Dankovskaya.” she repeated.

“Will it work?” he asked, letting go of her.

“Yes. I suppose so.” She decided, wiping away what tears were left on her cheeks.

“Shall we go home?”

“Home… yes. I would like to go home.”

Chapter Text

Clara was dead tired– day after day it was the same. Stick to the shadows, lit barely by matches and torchlight while she preached words holy and served her parents. If she failed, it would mean her parents would quite certainly punish her. Punishment often meant being kicked out or a beratement. Either way, Clara could not afford to disappoint the Saburovs– Katerina’s voice echoed in her head. A monster, a useless girl. Despite fear overwhelming her every sense, she didn’t succumb to fright and opened on the Bachelor’s door hesitantly. The door creaked open as Clara was greeted with an uncanny silence. She snuck past the kitchen, fearful of anyone that might be around and climbed the stairs, opening the door.

“Here– she– comes!” The Bachelor announced. He was sat as his desk facing away from Clara as if he knew she would visit. He pronounced every word with dramatism and his voice was loud. Almost as loud as Alexander was when he yelled. Clara winced, shifting her weight from side to side as he continued speaking. “Got anything to say in your defense? I’m sure you know what you’re being accused of, right? You’re a smart girl if the stories are anything to be believed?”

“I’m– I didn’t do anyth–” She was cut off by the Bachelor’s heinous laugh.

“You’re being accused of murder, Saint, if that’s what you are. Clara, you are being accused of the premeditated murder of several hundreds of people; the victims are still being counted. The method of murder: deliberately infecting them via personal contact. Were you the cloaked woman that was seen in the Cathedral last night?” The Bachelor trailed off as Clara’s eyes widened.

“Surely no…” she covered her mouth in horror. “Of course! I'm not denying it... But I was trying to help them– and I did, I've cured a lot of them, promise... I fed them water and offered gifts, because this way it was easier for them to believe, and that's very important. I’m innocent, I swear! I didn’t harm a soul– no, no, I’m a miracle worker! A healer. You have the wrong girl.” Clara swore, holding out her hands, “You can look! I’m not plagued at all! I couldn’t have spread the plague if I don’t have it!”

“Placebo, then. I see…” The Bachelor trailed off, sighing to himself.

“Huh? No…when I was leaving, I was sure that I'd managed to cure them all... I must've missed someone– or something... I know it's my fault. But I swear I wasn't the cause of all this! My heart would have sensed that. Although I have to admit I'm confused already…” Clara admitted, “I wouldn’t ever harm a soul, Bachelor.”

The Bachelor scoffed, haughtily so, “I’ll see for myself. I’ll take a sample of your blood. Give me your hand. I want to have a look at what's going on inside you.” He decided, taking her hand as she squirmed out of his grasp. Her eyes were almost feral and animalistic– defensive in fear.

“It doesn't matter, it's not like you believe me anyway. What if my blood turns out to be wrong in some way, what will you do to me then?” She questioned, holding her hands close. She looked scared– she looked terrified. Was she afraid of needles?

“Hand first, questions later.” The Bachelor said a little gentler, holding his hand out. Clara looked up at him, hesitantly before,

“…Yes, of course. Right or left?” she asked. Daniil took her left. He wordlessly rolled up her sleeve, his gloved hands running over pale and sickly skin. Her arms were littered with small scars and wounds, scrapes and bruises. Something that piqued his interest was a large scar on her wrist, raised and red and angry, as if she sewed it up herself. She winced when he touched around the scar, shaking slightly with fear. Daniil moved to her right arm, finding it just as bruised but there were no matching sutures. He tied a tourniquet around her upper arm, watching as her eyes widened when he found a proper vein and prepared the area.

“Clara. Hey, look at me here. Are you yourself fully and wholly aware of what you're being accused of?” he asked, picking up the syringe. Clara shook her head.

“So this is true... Someone truly believes that I have brought this into the world? I was beginning to suspect…” she winced when Daniil pierced her skin, drawing blood.

“I don't believe in mysticism.” he reassured her, “I don't believe you to be a character of fearful pagan tales.” the Bachelor admitted, freeing her arm from the tourniquet. “But then -- tell me about your past! Where did you come from? How did you make it through the Steppe? Who is your father? Your mother? Tell me -- and I won't have to hand you over to the Inquisitor.” He took the syringe and placed a small bit of blood onto a glass slide. He put another piece of glass over it, walking over to the microscope, ushering Clara to follow.

“You're right…” She admitted, “The evidence is incontrovertible... Every single fact about myself that I'm positive of speaks against me. I know that I can only exist in a dying world. I know that I have no place in a world without a plague. I know all that for sure. Does that mean that I am the plague?” she asked as Daniil shook his head.

“No…” he sighed, “The slides came back as plague free. They are weird, inhuman but not plagued…”

“I must leave then! There are many things to be done today and I must search for Eva and–”

“I’ll search for Eva. Do you really think that I would be so foolish to let an innocent girl go free on the town when she’s accused of a false crime? No! By morning your name should be cleared but…” Daniil tapped his chin, thinking, then, “No… no… you can stay here for the night.” he said, “I’m locking the door, do not touch anything… I have some food on my desk you can eat. I will see you again tonight.” He sighed, softening again when Clara’s expression became pitiful. “It’s for your safety, Pumpkin.”

Clara shook her head, “My parents will be so upset at me, Dankovsky! Do you know what you’ll do to me if you–”

Daniil unlocked the door, looking behind him with pity, “I’ll talk to your parents. Clara, please just listen to me. Trust me.”

She bit her lip, nodding gently. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay.” Daniil responded, locking the door behind him.

–

There was something isolating about Utopia that Clara couldn't quite put her finger on. Be it the way that the silence that permeated the city. Be it the ivory and scarlet making the town feel out of place. Be it the unfamiliarity of the entire place. It didn't matter the specifics because Utopia felt wrong as a whole. It would be a lie to say Clara hadn't felt this since she got here, but for some reason being inside his home magnified this feeling. Clara watched as Daniil cooked her food, dinner. "It's weird seeing you in this setting, Dankovsky." She admitted, perched on the counter while he labored away over the stove.

"Oh?" He asked, cracking an egg onto the pan.  “Why is that?”

Clara nodded, "We are still strangers to an extent. I only knew you during the plague. It's interesting to see the big city Bachelor cooking eggs for his newly adopted daughter he was forced to adopt." She explained, her senses overwhelmed by the scent of cooked egg– she was used to the raw ones. The eggs simmered on the stove, a gentle backdrop as she spoke. Daniil laughed, the lights above highlighting his wrinkles. She didn't even know how old he was supposed to be. 30? 40? She really didn’t know anything about him.

"You speak as if you didn't just tell me your deepest fears and traumas, Clara." He replied before his expression fell a bit, "Do you really think that's… that's the only reason I'd keep you around? I'm forced to do so?”

"Is it not?" She questioned, tapping her fingers on the counter.

"To an extent, you're right. I am not ready to raise another, I barely speak to Murky and Sticky as is and I'm technically their stepfather. If Maria didn't tell me to watch over you I may have not done so. But I do… care about you. You are a small child after all." He admitted, plating the sunny-side up eggs. He then put ham onto the pan. "I'm not as heartless as I may seem."

"Hm. I suppose so. Where are the children anyways?"

Daniil paled at the mention, "Murky is at the art school right now. She stays there, it serves as a boarding school. She's very talented for her age. We sent Sticky to the Capital so he could receive proper training…" he trailed off, as if words went unsaid.

"So they are not around.” It explained why the house was always so empty and quiet. He’s been alone.

"Yes, it's been quite lonely." Daniil laughed, "Notice how Artemy said he'd be home by dinner time? It's past dinner time and he's not anywhere to be seen!" Daniil plated the ham next, laughing sarcastically. Clara cringed thinking about Artemy– where was he? He took in hand two measly plates, offering one to Clara. "I've been alone.” He confirmed.

"My company may serve you well then." She joked, taking the plate from Daniil. As the two stood opposite from one another, they began to eat. The left hand and the head have connected once again, the right hand left behind to work. The two ate in silence, quiet permeating the atmosphere as the two shared a meal for the first time.

Chapter Text

Clara woke up to Daniil knocking on her door, his voice quiet.

"Are you awake?"

"Now I am." She responded, yawning. All of her bones ached as if she was six feet under instead of on a soft bed. "What time is it?" She asked, looking outside. It was barely sunrise- why would Daniil have woken her up so damn early?

"I…" Daniil looked away nervously, fidgeting. That was unlike him, thought Clara. "Maria has asked me to request for your presence at her home. One on one."

"This early?"

"She wanted to talk to you as soon as she could. She sent a courier to me last night once you went to bed. Get dressed, I made breakfast and then I'll walk you to Maria's."

Chapter Text

Clara woke up to Daniil knocking on her door, his voice quiet.

"Are you awake?"

"Now I am." She responded, yawning. All of her bones ached as if she was six feet under instead of on a soft bed. "What time is it?" She asked, looking outside. It was barely sunrise- why would Daniil have woken her up so damn early?

"I…" Daniil looked away nervously, fidgeting. That was unlike him, thought Clara. "Maria has asked me to request for your presence at her home. One on one."

"This early?"

"She wanted to talk to you as soon as she could. She sent a courier to me last night once you went to bed. Get dressed, I made breakfast and then I'll walk you to Maria's."

Chapter Ten

“Clara Dankovskaya, is that your name now?” Maria asked, sitting at a large table. She was draped in velvet, red from head to toe. Clara could swear her eyes were a fiery red too, her angular features sharper than before. “It’s nice to see you after so long. Sit down. A chat with an old friend?”

“Maria Kaina, long time so see.” Clara greeted, sitting down at the chair across from Maria’s. A plate sat in front of her, empty. Water sat in a cup in front of her. Red adorned the table from the roses in the vase to the square tablecloth. It was all so red, and it felt as if it were fighting against her blue. Maria overpowered the room.

Maria hummed, “What’s it like? The town I mean.” she sat still, eye contact never faltering as her glare pinned Clara in place. “I’ve worked tirelessly for two years for this. I’d like to know what the newcomer thinks.”

“It’s… interesting. Different. Very white and red.”

“Yes. It’s built to honor the colors of the mistresses, Capella and I.” Maria confirmed, hushing Clara as she tried to speak. “Before you ask what Capella is doing, she holds no power in Utopia. She is but a figurehead. This is not about her, I would much prefer to refrain from speaking her name here. This is about you, Clara.”

“No small-talk then? How cruel of you Maria,” Clara mocked offense, holding her ground, ‘I’m just three days old!”

Maria laughed- fakely so. “Yes, well. The Scarlet Mistress is not known for her softness. This is no small matter, Clara. Your appearance… has thrown a slight wrench in my plans.”

She softly nodded, “Yes. The people fear me more than they fear you, correct?”

Maria grimaced before straightening her face once more, “Yes. How-”

“I wasn’t done, Maria.” Clara interrupted, confidence oozing from her smug expression. “I’m not stupid, Kaina. I know that people fear me more than you and that is a liability to your rule. I am not a fool, Maria; I see through your act. You had Dankovsky claim me as his bound before any other could and fooled him under your false kindness. You are akin to your mother but you underestimate me. What did you tell him? That you wanted to help? No, you want to make sure your power was not harmed, and Daniil serves as a perfect vessel to keep me under a watchful eye. Your attempts at manipulation mean nothing. I have figured you out.”

Maria laughed, a genuine one this time, “I never intended to fool you, Dankovskaya. Unlike your silly guardian, I respect your intelligence.” Clara laughed alongside her, “It would be foolish of me to underestimate you. It would be a flaw if anything to do so, no. I wanted to talk to you as we are on an even playing field. No manipulation, no hooks. I heard you attempt to use one just moments before, mentioning my mother like that.”

Clara’s eyes widened, feeling embarrassment simmer, “I-”

“No need to explain yourself. I respect your hypnotism, my aunt used to do the same thing. I always saw right through it.”

“I apologize nonetheless. It was unfair for me to jump to conclusions like so. I simply assumed and–”

“Worry not, Clara. I know my reputation precedes me.” Maria shrugged, “I cannot say it is unwarranted. Rumors often are based on solid fact.” Clara shivered at that, feeling sweat pool on her collar. “And the rumors about you are truly fascinating. You have an interesting track record.” Maria took a sip of the tea in front of her, water untouched. “You were born right before the plague started, got adopted by one of the ruling families, and then disappeared after it was all over.”

“I died.”

“I know. I saw it in my visions, you were six feet under. Yet you crawled out of a grave yet again and suddenly came back to life! I respect it, Clara. My visions– they say you willed yourself back to life.”

“I… what?”

“Your will to live was so strong that you somehow came back to life. I cannot help but respect it. That’s why I see you and I as equals. Two girls who hold unprecedented power in both manipulation and visions.” Maria put down her glass, resting her head on her hands. “I am curious though, Clara. What do you plan on doing in this town? What is your goal?”

“To– to probably just be happy. Exist in a family… explore my options? I don’t plan on anything big. I failed in my goal to be a miracle worker and cure, to fix. I am useless, so living a simple life seems like all I can do.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Maria grinned at her, toothy and predatory, “You still serve a purpose if you so see fit. A normal life was not meant for girls like you and I. We are so much more, Clara. You hold power that even rivals mine. You serve more useful as an ally than an enemy.”

“What makes you think I am privy to become your enemy, Kaina?” Clara asked, frowning, “I don’t quite see myself revolting against your rule anytime soon…?”

“It is not you I am worried about– but the White Mistress, Capella.” Her expression shifted as she spoke of Capella, “Olgimskaya has been planning something. Something that threatens this very foundation of the town I have worked to build. She wants to recruit you, use you. She wants to use you.” She emphasized.

“Everyone wants to use me!” Clara exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “How so, though? You speak as if so sure…”

“They fear you just as much as I, they would listen to you. Fear is what makes the world go around, Changeling. You are a witch, a plague bringer. They would falter on their knees in front of you because of what you can do. Capella wants to weaponize that. This is a warning, Clara. I am helping you. She would want to turn you into her ultimate knight– a holy weapon.”

Clara closed her eyes, thinking as Maria kept talking. “She is so very like the Saburovs in that sense. She tries to think she is special and kind– unique even, but she is just like everyone else.” she said, a staccato as she spoke the last three words. “It makes you upset to speak of this, I apologize. I want to help you, Clara. Prevent you from being treated like a tool once more.”

“Why help me like this, Maria? Why prevent what would be more agony to someone who poses a threat!? Be honest?!”

“I am like you, Clara. We are built of the same cloth, both of us are women with power who have been used by those in the past.” Maria grimaced, “I don’t want you to be an enemy but an ally. Utopia has a place for everyone including you. There is a home to be found here for you.” Maria’s face softened, “A home. Isn’t that what you have always wanted?” She took another sip of her tea, “The Saburovs treated you horribly, and wanted you to fight for their power, they’re dead now. Block wanted to use you to fight his war, he’s gone. Olgimskaya wants to now use you to fight her war but I can prevent this.”

Clara’s mouth fell dry as Maria spoke, finding her hands wandering towards the cup of water.

“I want you to have a home here, Dankovsky proved the most eloquent when it came to handling you during the plague. I thought he’d be a worthy guardian and the most likely to not hurt you anymore. He’s too foolish to use you.” Maria joked, the tone lightening, “And you said you were purposeless? I can give you both a purpose and a family. Everything you need.”

Clara’s hands grasped the water cup as she sipped on it. Her mouth was so goddamn dry. “And what purpose would I serve?”

Maria’s grin grew even wider, a Cheshire cat of expression. “You can spread your miracles and gospel to those who need it. You would inspire hope in the beauty of Utopia, and in turn, you can keep your happy life. You can keep Daniil and Artemy, your parents, you can keep your purpose.’

“Maria, this all sounds great but I must ask– what about the workers? The industrial district is awful. Will there be any change there? I haven't been there but… but Maria, I fear for what it looks like there."

Maria nodded, “You would be in charge of charities under faith, you would spread hope to them when most needed. You would have the chance to make things better there, Clara. You’d hold power in this town, more than your guardian even. More than Katerina or Alexander ever did. My dear, you’d be just below me.”

“And… and everyone would listen to my miracles?”

“Yes. And more. They would believe in it just as much as they believe in me.”

Clara paused, “Are you faithful, Maria?”

Maria sighed, “Not particularly. I said that honesty would only be welcomed at the table, I believe in something. However, my fate is for me to wield and mold as I see fit. There is nothing on Earth that would change that for me.”

“Does it not prove a threat to your rule?”

“No. I believe faith would be good for my people and I trust in you, to not abuse the power you would wield. You want to do good, Clara. I can see it, unlike Olgimskaya who wants power for herself, you would want for good to blossom in Utopia.” Maria admitted, her smile this time small and genuine, “I believe in you and your messages. You are wonderful, Clara. I know that you will make the right choice in time.”

“Why do you trust me?” Clara asked desperately, “I- I don’t understand! I don’t know, I– Maria, I don’t want to be a tool! I don’t want to be used again!” She said frustrated. Maria frowned.

“If I gave you that impression, I apologize once more. I never meant to make you a tool but instead give you a chance to preach your beliefs.” Maria walked over to the side of the table Clara sat, “Take a drink of water and take a deep breath, it has been incredibly stressful for you in these last days, my dear. You are safe here.”

Clara listened, taking a sip of water before sighing. “Do you truly wholeheartedly want me to be happy?”

“Yes. I truly do, Clara. You are a girl who deserves a home and a secure family. There is no place for you in Olgimskaya’s world, there is no place for Daniil in her world. She would tear apart all of Utopia and create a constant world where there is no religion, no faith, no progress but oneness. A sameness in which no one can leave or deter from. She doesn’t see what could be. Her world has no place for everyone.” Maria walked behind Clara, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and whispered, “There is a place for everyone in Utopia including you.” Maria then let go and walked back to her side of the table before sitting.

“I– I— this is a lot, Maria. I cannot–”

“I did forget to mention, my dear Clara, your title if you were to take my deal.” Maria added, ignoring her worried pleas.

“That would be?”

“The Mistress of Blue. Scarlet, White, and Blue. Fits much better than Earth, does it not? Fire, Air and Water. It’s far more suited to Utopia. There is no use for Earth when there is only the future to look up to.”

Clara paused, looking down at her blue dress, the same shade she’s been wearing since day one. She looked up to Maria, clad in Scarlet before

“I need to think about this, Maria. I cannot make a choice now! There is… so much to think about and–” Clara paused, “I need to…” she took another drink of water, “I need to think. I just need to think.” She stood up, hastily pushing in her chair and making her way to the door.

Maria nodded, “Of course. It was much of me to ask you on your third day back. Take your time.” Maria called, finishing off her tea, “I trust in you, whatever choice you will make will surely be right.”

Clara closed the door behind her.

Chapter Text

Now when Clara found herself stood in front of the two Mistresses of Scarlet and White, her knees faltered. The three Mistresses stood in front of the Polyhedron on other side of the river. Maria stood in front of the Polyhedron, Capella standing behind her. The sky threatened rain as God's child began to speak.

"Mistresses of Scarlet and White." Said the Mistress of Earth. "I stand before you both to seek your counsel."

"Yes. You are here today to begin your journey, isn't that right?" The Mistress of Scarlet spoke, her voice as loud as ever. You could hear it from the Polyhedron if you so tried.

And the Mistress of White said, "So shall we begin?"

And the Mistress of Scarlet replied, "Yes. Clara Dankovskaya, the former heir to the defunct Mistress of Earth title, you stand before us to claim what title may be dutifully yours, yes?"

And Clara said, "Yes. I am here to receive your blessings." She was dressed in blue, as requested. A long dress akin to that of a holy preacher decorated her body, navy from head to toe. The only thing that dare be another color was the white collar in which she was adorned with a scarlet painted cross: stripped wholly of the green and red that echoed her previous life as a healer.

And the Mistress of Scarlet nodded. The Mistress of White backed up, her role was not that of importance no longer. She was not written to have power. "Let you take the role of the Mistress of Blue— it matters not who you were before, if you were Earth instead of Water. Let your sins be forgiven, let your miracles flow through this Utopia from the ground to the surface, adorning this city of ivory and scarlet and mud."

And Clara nodded, walking towards the river as Scarlet followed, White staying behind. Then Clara got onto her knees, mud decorating her dress, staining the navy blue. Clara closed her eyes, folding her hands in her lap as her Mistress continued to speak.

And Scarlet said, "God has brought you here today to atone from all your wrongdoings, of the Changeling's wrongdoings. You are no longer a normal girl, you are a Mistress. You will forever put the town in front of everything else. Put me in front of everything else for I speak for the city and you will broadcast what I speak. What the City speaks. Repeat what I have said in your own words, preacher."

Then Blue said, "I will atone for my acts as the Changeling and be a holy figure under your name. I will televise your rule as a Saint."

Then Scarlet said, "You will bring good to the town, letting what was once savagery become progress. Speak, say what you wish freely now."

Then Blue cried, "When I was a girl, younger and foolish, I believed I knew what was best for the town. I was a silly girl, I was a grounded human who gawked at what Scarlet could be. I pinned the wings and body of the Scarlet Mistress, believing my blood could save the town. I now know that what I wanted to do would have never worked!" She screamed, "I wish to attone for my ego, for my pride, for my belief in myself being special. I now see I am no more than… than a vessel for your word, God." The Mistress of Blue clutched her hands tighter together. "I am finished."

Then the Scarlet Mistress nodded, "A mistress is not an easy job. You will be our mistress of Religion, your life will be devoted to your role. To speak for me. To make the town fall under me to protect us from heresy."

And Blue repeated, "To protect us from heresy."

And Scarlet said, "To protect this town from nonbelievers."

"To protect from nonbelievers."

And the Mistress of Religion was grasped by the hair, dunked into the river, dunked into the mud. And she sputtered, and she gasped for air as she choked on the water as Scarlet held her under with her hand of God. Blue couldn't breathe, though it was for the greater good; for her suffering would serve as the martyr for everyone else. She knew that her pain, her suffering, her obedience would guarantee that her family- mostly The Bachelor, would be safe. That this town would be guaranteed to flourish for eons.

Her body made of clay and Earth dissolved in the water, replaced by water. Her heart of stone, the dirt on her skin, her words of twyre and plants became nothing but dust as it was replaced by holiness.

No more was the Earth, there was no need for Earth in Maria Kaina's world. There was only Water, Fire and Air. Blue, Scarlet and White.

Eventually, the hand on her head loosened, letting her breathe. Clara gasped for air, desperate to breathe as she felt water fall from her eyelashes.

The White Mistress watched from afar, her expression unreadable as the Scarlet Mistress helped Clara stand up, drying her face with a spare cloth. Clara looked at Maria with an unreadable expression, one that made her anger.

"Thank you for this." Clara whispered, wiping away the water from her face.

Maria nodded, her devilish grin ignored by the youngest Mistress. Capella frowned, trying to ignore the bubbling rage building. Clara took Maria by the hands, "Thank you." She repeated, "Thank you. Thank you. You have given me purpose and a chance to share my miracles."

"It is for the best of everyone for you to do so. I will guide you as needed, you will be more successful than Saburova ever was."