Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"We can put an end to evil and split the heavens. We can walk out of the fog and step closer to the truth... This is our nation, forever standing tall, and with the power to accomplish miracles." — ███ ████, first mayor of Eridu

Here Phaethon lies who in the sun-god's chariot fared. And though he greatly failed, more greatly he dared.

here the fflower does ggrow

will you enjoy the sscent?

wwither, in the ggarden?

or mmore? bbloom?^[1]

— unknown 

nope. i'd brew it into tea.

^{[Wafting though these memories, it's like walking through mud. Blurry; incoherent; bloody.]}

The room is barren and empty, save for a bed and several toys and gadgets lying around the room. The ventilation system works silently in the background.

The strobe is harsh—too harsh, it hurts to look upwards.

The beams of light converge on a boy, his figure almost impossible to make out due to the gleam. He is clad in an oversized surgirical gown, which makes his seem even smaller as he is barely waist height.

A boy is surrounded by researchers in lab coats; they watch intently as the boy produces several floating Ether crystals that promptly dissipate. The black crystalline polyhedrons shrink and enlarge erratically.

The boy has a bush of white hair; it flows gracefully with a faint glow as his brow scrunches while he intently concentrates on his task. This proves difficult due to the high-tech shackles placed on each of his wrists and ankles. They weren't shackles in the sense that they had chains and such, but how they seemed to drain his strength and prevented him from moving his limbs too fast in any one direction.

The boy struggles to keep focus, his eyes begin to take on a chromatic gleam the more he exerts himself. The cold gazes of the researchers stabbing him in the back of his head do not help. It is a suffocating feeling.^[2]

A horn blares, and the incessant scratching of the researcher's pens abruptly ceases.

An indistinct voice sounds: “Test complete; please exit the chamber and await debriefing.” 

The group exits the room except for one. Amidst the clattering of shoes on the hard floor, she stands still, like a rock jutting out against the tide.

A fox thiren, she looks at the boy as her tall ears droop wearily. Her long hair was silky black and her eyes a deep crimson red. 

She bends down, a crimson earring looming over the boy. The earring is delicately crafted; its surface is smooth and lacquered to a mirror-like sheen. It resembles both a teardrop and a budding lotus.^[3]

Brushing the intricately crafted piece aside, she speaks softly, “You did great.”

She smiles, and the boy mimics the motion. It feels nice.

The woman continues congratulating the boy before she is called out, reluctantly exiting the chamber.

The boy looks on with longing. He is alone. Again.

…

The boy stares blankly at the door, waiting patiently for someone to enter.

It seemed that no one would come, until the door suddenly hisses open, and out comes a familiar face.

The fox thiren carries several objects with a lax demeanour; she turns to look as a voice calls out from behind.

“30 minutes.”

She nods in understanding, quickly shifting her attention to the boy in front of her.

The boy looks up in response, his eyes sparkling with... something, not quite excitement, it unnerves her slightly.

The boy never had any socialisation, she reasoned. It was why she was here anyway, carrying all these trinkets.

Officially, it was to improve communication between the boy and the researchers and streamline testing. But she saw it as a way to teach a young child about people and the world. Even if the higher-ups only gave her half an hour.

Laying the objects on the floor in front of the boy: a teddy bear, some toy cars and a large red ball.

"Okay, let’s start with something fun. Do you know what this is…?"

The woman picks up the bear, a coffee brown. The wool is curly, and it stares at the boy with beady black eyes.

"No..." The boy admits, a tinge of curiosity in his soft voice. He inches closer. The bear remains inanimate.

The boy tilts his head, deep in thought, the words difficult to formulate.

"Why is so fluffy?

"Well, because it's a bear. Bears are big and fluffy."

He frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation. "But it's not big?"

The woman laughed at the boy's statement, "Because it's a stuffed toy, silly. Here, take it." She says, handing the bear over.

Slowly reaching for the stuffed toy, the boy grabs it. Cautiously, he caresses the bear, in awe of it's softness.

"...can I keep it?" he asks, eyes pleading silently.

"Of course. Now, do you know what this is?"

"Car?"

"Yes! Do you wan- wait... how do you know that??"

"Hehe, secret." Giggles the boy, getting up, bear in hand.

"Hey! Wait! How do you know that!?" she repeated.

The boy raises a brow and, in a strange moment of maturity, explains, "No, remember? Book. You gave me a... book on cars last time."

"Ah..." remembered the woman. She felt like an idiot. The boy laughs at her expense.

…

It's been a particularly rough round of experiments. 

It's not that the researchers were overly cruel or sadistic, but a kid could only endure the sheer amount of tests for so long.

The boy has dark circles under his eyes, and his breathing is shallow. He sits on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees, while glancing at the door warily. His gaze admits that he expects another euntourage of researchers to whisk him away somewhere to some strange place for more testing. He doesn't even know what they are testing for.

He wants warmth, as his bed provides him little and the ventilation always keeps the room at a constant chill. The tips of his fingers begin to grow numb.

He squeezes tighter; the cold makes him hungry too. The small servings unable to satiate him after rounds of tests. One would expect more food after that, or for larger servings; better food. But no, they just hook him up to an IV to make sure he gets his nutrients and to fill him with weird medication.

Lips purse in disdain at the possibility of that being true this time, and he sighs in defeat as the door to his chamber hisses open.

Only that instead of a randomly selected researcher carrying a packet of milky substance, it was the kind researcher. He perks up at her, pleasantly surprised. 

She's carrying a mug of tea and a plate of sandwiches. She whispers in a hushed tone once she gets closer, "I'm trying to improve your meals, but for now have this."

She hands him the mug and places the plate beside him on the bed. Once he lays hands on the mug the numbing sensation in his fingers quicky dissapears and is replaced by warmth that spreads across his palms and even his forearms. It already begins to grow too hot, but the boy doesn't care; he is too surprised by the cascading heat.

The woman looks on, "Go on, drink it."

The boy looks at the woman, then at the mug, and back at the woman. He waits silently for a nod of confirmation, which she gives. 

The boy takes little sips from the mug before taking a larger gulp. He nearly jumps at the sensation of warmth spreading down his throat and into his stomach, and then trailing outwards into his limbs. A little loss for words, the boy proceeds to the sandwiches, taking a single bite before scarfing down the rest.

The woman looks on in amusement, smiling as he licks the tip of his fingers. From an outsiders point of view, it would look like a mother watching over a child. 

...

The boy sits in the woman's lap, holding a steaming cup. He is about her shoulder height now and looks considerably more weary. Beneath his gown, which was now normal-sized, were several incisions, metal beads, and strange markings. Researchers besides the woman were not very kind.

The woman recites stories and tales to the boy; she had the liberty to do so. And the boy carries a cup of tea—a fruity blend. He drinks it slower than usual (not that he dislikes it, he likes all types of tea), but rather because he is so engrossed in the woman's storytelling. The woman too has changed; she is no longer awkward, and treats the boy with motherly care^[4]. Her smile is soft, albiet with a strange weight to it. The boy speaks.

"Why does she do that?" He asks, curious about the story, "She's running away!"

"You'll see, let's keep reading."

The story is a household fairytale from Eridu's past, this is it summarised:

A woman runs a flower store with her young daughter. They live happily and without hassle.

One fateful day, the mother sends the daughter out to buy some seeds. The daughter heads off to the market, merrily buying a bag of seeds.

She does not only do that; she plays with the other kids and stray cats. 

Sometime during the afternoon when the sun is highest, she plays ball, and the ball rolls off into a Hollow.

The daughter runs after it and into the Hollow.

The mother had come looking for her, and had seen her dissapear into the Hollow. She races after her daughter.

In the Hollow, the mother finds her daughter. But it does not end so quickly.

Hollows are wrought with danger, so.

Narrowly escaping peril, they dash through the skeletons of buildings and empty streets.

Day and night pass, and they slowly inch closer to safety.

Unfortunately. They get surrounded by Ethereals, but they manage to find a place to hide. 

But not for long. Soon, ethereals converge, and the Hollow starts to shift.

As if the Hollow is forcing the mother to make a choice, she runs off, drawing the Ethereal's attention away from her daughter.

Hours go by, with the daughter believing that her mother had either abandoned her or become an Ethereal—she only has her stuffed toy for comfort.

Until suddenly, the mother returns and rescues her daughter to safety.

A pretty common tale used to scare children, with the only moral being 'stay away from Hollows' and 'don't dilly dally'. But it was something the woman grew up with, and it just felt right to tell it to the boy sitting on her lap.

"Ooohhh." Hummed the boy.

"You see, the mommy doesn't abandon her; she does it to protect her. And in the end she returns." Explains the woman, the words flowing out of her mouth like it was second nature. 

"But why?" He asked, 

"Because she loves her daughter, she reads her books and gives her food and protects her and bunch other motherly things."

"Does that mean you're my mommy too?" Asked the boy innocently. 

The woman is stopped dead in her tracks, her control over the conversation shattering at those seven words. Her lips pursed in shock. Her face folds into an indescribable expression before she is able to speak again.

"Well... uhm." She pauses to think carefully.

"..."

"..."

"Yes... I think... I am. My little flower.”

^{[Ether is nearly overflowing, 'it' transforms, unveiling its true "blossoming" form. And with its bloom comes death.]}

A klaxon sounds, strobing red lights peirce through the hallway. Terrified screams echo distantly, barely audible. 

He can hear them, hear them all. Something is happening, though he can't say much of what.

The atmosphere is oppressing; a sense of dread permeates the hallway. Space itself seemed to ripple minutely at the edges of objects, and specks of etheric matter floated in the stagnant air.

People are dying, writhing in agony as they transform into new grotesque forms, black crystals with a green glow replacing their humanly features. They morph, limbs contorting and bending unnaturally before skin corrodes and blackens, and their heads bloom into a mockery of a flower cradling chromatic black orbs.

Their agonised yells fall onto ears that barely understand them. What he does understand, though, is that this is a terrible, horrible thing. 

And whatever is going on, he wants to stop it.

But he can't do anything.

He is confined to this barren chamber, his ankles and wrists shackled. Dressed in a sterile white gown, all he can do is watch in horror at the massacare unfolding in front of him. 

It wrenches his heart and fills him with terror, but underneath that is a deep worry.

What of the people in white coats?

What about her?

He curls up on his rudimentary bed, the thin mattress providing little comfort. Wishing that it would all go away.

The screams.

The fear.

The agony.

And after what seems like an eternity, they do. The halls go silent once more, the cascading screams and occasional gunshots fading into the dark. But the silence is even more terrifying.

It means everyone has perished or turned into one of those monsters. 

For a while, the boy began to weep. He could not even wipe his tears, for the shackles restrained his so.

That was, until he heard the clop of heels and pained grunting inching closer and closer.

Meekly, he peeks out of a viewport placed high on the reinforced door, his short arms barely able to pull himself upwards. There he saw a woman limping towards the door of his cell. Even through several layers of reinforced glass, he could hear the effort and exertion in her breath.

It was the kind^[5] researcher.

Her face was caked with blood. Her long hair was sweaty and frizzled.

She wore a conflicted expression, but her face still held a determined look. She grunted in pain with each gruelling step. 

The she-fox tripped a few times, barely able to keep her balance as she trudged to the end of the hallway where his chamber was located. This was the first time the boy had seen her in such a state, and it made his heart sink with each hiss of pain that exited the woman’s mouth.  

Then again, the boy had many first times; he was confined here for as long as he could remember.

Again she tripped, this time collapsing to the floor. She laid still for a moment, unable to move.

Slowly, she struggled to gain afoot, trying and failing multiple times to support herself. It seemed that she would lay there immobile and then succumb to her injuries; however, she glanced at him through the glass, which stirred her up. As if his worried gaze gave her the energy to push on.

The boy began to tear up, deathly afraid for her safety. 

She was the only one who genuinely cared for him and didn’t see him as a tool or something to be experimented on. 

And he didn’t even know her name.

She taught him how to speak and play. And so many other things; she taught him everything.

Leaning against the wall and leaving a smear of blood behind as she dragged herself the final stretch, she took out a keycard and shakily swiped it across a scanner, causing the door to the boy’s cell to slide open.

She practically collapsed into the room alongside the tide of red strobe, save for the boy awkwardly catching her despite his restraints. 

Bathed in a deep red light, she plants both hands on the boy’s shoulders, bringing her head to level with his. An indercipherable expression on her face.

A silence that seemed to stretch out into forever before she spoke, her voice still soft and measured despite her grave injuries.

“Hey, kid…” 

The boy could only mumble incoherently in response.

“It’s dangerous out there, right?” She whispered, gently tousling his hair, “But you need to escape; you have to escape. Understand?”

“...Mhm”

“Okay, I want you to bear this for just a bit.”

With a wave of her hand, the boy’s shackles unlocked, the heavy metal weights falling to the ground with a loud clunk.

Then, the woman produced three syringes, a thicker one with a plastic coating, an Ether suppressant, and another thinner, transparent vial full of yellow liquid. And a third one, an evil red.

She slotted the first vial into an automatic syringe she had on hand, then, carefully, slowly, as if she were handling the most fragile thing in the world, she pricked the boy’s skin and painstakingly injected the Ether suppressant. The boy flinched at the pain but did not cry.

“I doubt that you would need this anyway, but better safe than sorry.” She mused.

Taking the second vial, she switched it and the first one and inserted it just as carefully into the side of the boy’s neck near where a barcode was printed on his skin. Hearing the faint sound of depressurisation accompanied by the emptying of the liquid, the woman sighed in relief. 

“And that will purge the sedatives we’ve been pumping through you all this time.” She remarked.

“What’s happening... out there?" Asked the boy, his enunciation janky and voice laced with fear.

“Not much^[6]... just be careful.” The woman was not good at coating her words.

The boy was shaking now.

He glanced nervously at the third vial; he had a bad feeling about that one. 

Suddenly, the woman began coughing violently, dropping the syringe to clutch at her stomach and cover her mouth to prevent whatever was coming out from splattering over the boy. 

The coughing fit ended as soon as it began, and slowly, the woman took a look at both of her hands.

The palm that was clutching her stomach was painted with her own blood, and the other with Ether crystals glowing softly in the palm in her hand.

The boy instinctually understood. And so did the she-fox.

She did not have much time left.

The woman sighed heavily and let out a rueful laugh that transitioned into a sorrowful apology.

“I’m sorry... so sorry... we were so confident that when it all came crashing down, all we could do was watch helplessly—you're just a child! I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!”

Her voice was shaky, her intonation erratic.

"Seedli—kid." Gasping, the word nearly leapt off her tongue: “I should’ve tried harder! Not whatever this is... to free you. My colleagues said to leave you, that you were a recoverable loss.”

Forcing down her regret, she cupped the boy’s face in one hand. Her expression softened as her eyes met his.

“But I don’t care anymore. I’m getting you out of here, even if it costs me my life.” She croaked, stifling a cough as she reached into her back pocket.

“Now, now. Don’t be afraid.” Comforted the woman, retrieving a rectangular device, “This is a carrot; it will lead you to safety. Or at least to those who can take you there.”

"Hopefully,” she begged, careful not to let her doubt seep through.

She pressed the ‘On’ button, causing the carrot to flicker to life and sputter in a cheesy voice:

[“He-llo! Please tell me your name so that I may streamline communications."]

She sighed, a gesture one wouldn't expect from someone on the brink of death; she shouldn’t of bought one of those new fancy gadgets.

But another thing caught her attention.

[Insert your name.] 

The boy did not have a name.^[7]

The thought stunned her momentarily before she entered the first thing that came to mind when she looked at the kid.

Slowly, the letters formed a word on the screen.

[Weiss]

[“He-llo Weiss!!”]

“What is a Weiss?" Asked the boy curiously. 

“White, like your hair. Very cute, like a flower.” She teased, smiling, though omitting the fact that the feature was not natural.

“...”

“...”

“Okay.”

Finally, the woman picked up the red vial which had rolled away somewhere, inserted it into the syringe, and stabbed it into her shoulder, emptying it entirely.

The woman gasped in a mixture of sudden clarity and queasieness; the revitalising sensation was was followed by an overhanging sense of dread and lightheadedness.

Like the first syringe, it was an Ether suppressant—it would stave off corruption for a day. Two if you were lucky.

But she had much less time than that. 

The mixture was highly concentrated; in fact, it would be a lethal dose considering how many injections she had already taken.

Either become an Ethereal, or die of overdose. And she would very much prefer the latter.

She slumped down on the wall, beckoning the boy to come closer. Her speech was already starting to slur, and she struggled to keep conciousness, "Kid—no, W...eiss. I'm sorry, cm'here."

It didn't sit well with him, but he shuffled forward anyway.

The woman took off her her earring and placed it delicately in the boy's hands. She enclosed the boys palm around the piece, looking at him in the eyes. 

"I'm scared." Hiccuped the boy.

"I know."

"Who’s going to tell me stories? Or help me when I’m sad?”

"You're going to have to find out yourself. Promise me that you'll leave this place, make your own life. Find your own people. Go about it with no one tying you down. Not even me."

She pulled the boy into a hug, her blood staining the pure white gown. It was an eternity of embrace before they pulled apart.

"Now go."

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks, "B-but—"

The boy reluctantly stood up, and began to trudge out, stopping at the threshold of the door. 

"There's no time! Go!"

The boy didn't move, he couldn't move. He had never stepped foot out of this chamber alone since the day he was created. His entire being was centered around this one singular room. He knew of nothing else.

The woman looked on, coflicted. Slowly, painfully, she began to utter the words that would stir him to movement.

"GO! LIVE!" 

That finally did it. Hesitantly, the boy began to walk out, then jog, and finally sprint as fast as his little legs could take him. Earring in one hand and the carrot in the other he dashed through the maze of corridors, up through the lowest sublevels and finally out of the main lobby.

Now completely alone, the woman releases all tension and sighed. Her head began to spin. She slumps against the wall like a ragdoll as her muscles can no longer support her. The sounds around her are muffled now, her breaths growing shallower, each one taking a little more effort. The pain in her stomach is fading, but so is every other sensation.

She didn't expect the overdose to take over so soon—she wanted to lament and relfect on what kind of person she had been for a little bit longer. 

But besides that, it's almost peaceful, like a song nearing its final note.

And out there, Weiss ran and ran, surrounded by the Etherous calamity^[8] that was Hollow Zero.  

And finally lived.

^{[1] Old World Relics posit this theory:}

^{Suppose there was a certain girl once; her name has been long forgotten, or perhaps she discarded it.}

^{One day, the girl left the place she had lived in her whole life. To call it her home may be improper. All she left with were the clothes on her back and a box with some seeds.}

^{Though the girl found freedom, it did not last. A horrible disaster struck the world she had walked into and she quickly found herself isolated in a world that wasn't quite right anymore.}

^{Though she scavenged for supplies, the girl's fate had been set in stone since the moment she found herself in her second cage. When exhaustion and corruption took her body, she found herself wishing to see her poor seeds bloom in the found pot she had planted them in.}

^{Alas, no life could possibly bloom inside of a Hollow.}

^{And yet, in what is now known as Hollow Zero, the Withering Garden arose; the nest of a monster who would come to be known as Nineveh, filled with her etherous flowers that could only bloom within her Hollow garden.}

^{[2] One he knows all too well.}

^{[3] Rise from the murk below and back down you sink}

^{[4] can she really be called that? when she too would, did, will fail her own child?}

^{[5] perhaps}

^{[6] lie.}

^{[7] 'A word or set of words by which a person or thing is known, addressed, or referred to.'}

^{To which he does not have, and yet he does really.}

^{How strange.}

^{The human mind is a strange thing; it’s like a Hollow—twisting, turning, creating worlds within itself. One moment a chaotic storm—in which the internal space-time environment becomes disorderly due to unknown influence—another moment calm, tranquil, like a still lake on a day with clear skies.} 

^{Much like Hollows, the mind is truly strange in it's duality—the way it’s both our greatest ally and our fiercest enemy. It can propel us to greatness. Take, for example, the Shiyu Pillars—born from human ingenuity, they are the backbone of our industry, syphoning Etheric Matter from Hollow Zero and converting it into energy. And yet politcal turmoil and conflict threaten to tear this city apart despite our advancements. As much Hollows are a threat to civilisation, they are a core component of our society. Who knows? Perhaps Eridu would never come into being without the appearance of Hollows...}

^{Nevermind, I'm going on a tangent. Point being. Despite 'having' quite a few names, he rarely goes by any of them. Why? Maybe those names carry a bad memories? Or the fact that they were imposed on him?}

^{We spend our lives growing into our names, or perhaps, growing out of it. Names establish who we are and anchor us to this world. But names are not fixed, are they? They can shift and change, like the tides. People adopt nicknames, titles, even new identities.}

^{Maybe he does not want to change.}

^{[8] "When I was 15, the thought of an apocalypse never troubled me. The only thing I could give up, even in the face of the world's end, was the sunset on that beach. Watching the sun gently slide into the waters embrace, with fireworks dancing on the canvas of the night sky, even tomorrow or better, it wouldn't be worse than I thought. When you're reading this letter, I imagine much has changed, whether it’s yourself… or the world."}

^{— Video tape "This is How I Am".}

Chapter Text

"I mean, we could use some flowers to spruce up the store, right?" — A certain video store owner on Sixth Street

"It's a of flower that I've cultivated myself for quite a while now. It's flowers^[9] are very beautiful, but they often hide among the leaves, so you need to move them aside to see their true beauty—thus, its flower language is mystery, and... hiding one's true self." 

— Orchidea

Polarising light blinds you as you dream

^{[While an ant was wandering under the shade of the Hollow garden, a drop of Ether enveloped the tiny insect; thus she, who in life was disregarded, became precious by death.]}

Wise rested his head on his hand while his arm rested on the counter. He stared at the pillars of light that shone through the windows, absentmindedly tracing his eyes around the swirling specks of dust that were illuminated by the early afternoon sunlight. 18, one of the three Bangboos the siblings owned, and the video store's promoter was similarly bored as it sat adjacent to the counter. The Bangboo had a squinting expression on its display—it 'ehn ah'd' wearily, as the video store was devoid of customers.

It was a slow day at the video store, as was the case with their other business—commisions were drying up, and even the odd jobs the siblings took when they needed extra Dennies were hard to come by. He sighed. Wise hadn't heard the soft jingle of the bell attached to the front door of the store in ages, or a notification from their Proxy Knock Knock either, or even a text from Nicole detailing why she couldn't pay her debts this time.

It was difficult building up their InterKnot account from scratch after they had to sacrifice it to get rid of that obnoxious hacker; it did bring back memories, but that didn't make the process any less painfully slow. He blinked, thinking he had spotted the doorknob twist, but massaged the bridge of his nose after he had realised his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Bored out of his mind, he got up and rounded the counter. Since there was no one around, he might as well rearrange their stock and tidy up the store that had admittedly fallen into disuse when they were in their heyday as Phaeton. He regretted his and Belle's negligence as he moved box after box, quickly falling into a rhythm of moving tapes, dusting them off, and placing them somewhere else. He made sure to take extra care handling the romance movies and documentaries.

“Port Peak… Attack on Cyberz... Small Body Big Crisis…” Listed Wise, he’d noticed these tapes were being rented more often, so he pushed them to the forefront. He also noted, rather unfortunately, that not many of the milder movies that he enjoyed were being picked up and were placed further back on the shelves. Maybe Belle pulled something? Or not, the recent workload was a bit much, so his head was a little foggy, and it was easy to misplace things...

Maybe slow days like these were what he needed once in a while. He was only human, after all.

Wise’s momentum ceased when he heard footsteps coming from upstairs. Smiling softly, he straightened his back (which produced several relieving pops) and turned to face the blue-haired gremlin that was his sister. She smiles back, rubbing her eyes with one hand and petting Bangboo 18 with another.

"Ehn-Ah!" The Bangboo leaned into her touch.

Belle is, for lack of a better word, dishevelled. Her ultramarine hair was unkempt and had strands flicking out in odd directions. She had forgone her usual sleeveless jacket and simply wore her turtleneck and layered skirt, which themselves were creased and covered in cat fur.

“Didn’t think you’d stay up til 4 in the morning.” Greeted Wise as Belle let out a loud yawn. 

"You're not any better." Countered Belle, looking at the dark circles under her brother's eyes, "And what can I say, I was out looking for Inky."

"Don't overdo it; the cat's not going anywhere." He said that despite wanting to adopt the little black cat as well. 

"Yeah, yeah..." Said Belle sarcastically, patting down her clothes and looking around. "No customers today, huh?" 

"Yeah, honestly, it isn't so bad; we could use a break." Admitted Wise, the past month or two was awfully packed. So much had happened that it was difficult to keep track of it all—the Vision case, Belobog's smart machines going rogue...

“Sixth Street is awfully quiet for this time of day...” noted Belle.

"It is strange."

"Or not, maybe there's a flash sale at the mall? Quick, Fairy!^[10]" 

"Searching. 12095 results for 'how to spend more Dennies than you earn', Master, would you like to start a financial saving plan?" Called the 'AI assistant' from the ceiling-mounted speakers, voice monotone as ever yet still managing to sound snarky.

"#$#$..." Grumbled Belle.

Wise let out a poorly concealed sigh as he agreed, "...Fairy has a point, Belle. We can't spend frivolously like we used to."

"You should listen to second assistant. Expenses in the past month include but not limited to: Action figurines. 20 cans of cat food. 5 new pairs of the same outfit. A skateboard. 10 DV-"

"Alright! Alright! We get it! Stop splurging after every commision!"

Wise looked on, his brow carrying a hint of worry for their spending habits. He let out a uncomfortable laugh as he added, "Not only that, the electricity bill keeps going up, were going to have to change our routines is this keeps up."

"Probably because of a certain electricity gobbling Fairy." She spat, glaring at a celing mounted camera.

"I play no part in this, in fact, this is an obligation stipulated in our contract."

That again, Belle was endlessly frustrated because she had no idea what the contract even was. Would a contract made when you were in a dream-like state even be valid?

Belle crossed her arms, rolling her eyes as she began to speak in the most sarcastic voice she could muster, "I mean, we could cut on expenses by reducing out electricity consumption, maybe we should start by getting rid of the most costly and annnoyi-"

"Master, I am detecting movement outside the front door."

"-Eh!?" Stuttered Belle, startled by Fairy's interjection; she was in no shape to be running the video store right now! 

The two scrambled to put away any stray tapes and neaten their appearance; that was in no way proper for this time of day. After pushing away the rest of the clutter, the siblings stood around the store, waiting as nonchalantly as they could.

Wise and Belle waited. 

And waited.

“There is no need to be so attentive, Master. It appears whoever was outside has lost interest; maybe second assistant should investigate.”

"...huh," said Wise, ignoring the ever-snarky Fairy as he walked to the front door. 

Wise grabbed the knob, which was strangely cold for some reason, and stood there for a moment. Why did he have a bad feeling about this?

Shaking away the strange feeling, Wise twisted the knob and let in the warm afternoon air. The gusts lapped against his face as he adjusted to the significantly brighter outside; he peeked out, looking right, then left.

There was no one.

"What?" Sighed Wise, half expecting this.

Belle popped out from underneath Wise's larger frame and did the same; she complained in a half-indignant pout, "-Ugh, c'mon! Why do people loiter? At least enter the store!"

"Now, Belle, we can't just expect customers to file into the video store like that..." Chided Wise, trailing off as he picked up a faint floral scent, then asking, "Can you smell that, Belle?"

Belle sniffed the air, her brow raising in pleasant surprise, "Yeah... it smells really nice. Where's it coming from?"

It was a sweet scent, both woody and herbal at the same time. It had soft, powdery, and smokey notes as well. The sensation tickled the tops of the sibling’s nostrils as they tried to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from—eventually, it drew them towards the box of records they had put on display in front of the store.

Belle was the first to investigate, carefully pushing aside the discs to find anything out of the ordinary. After some sifting around, she happened upon something—a smooth, card-like surface. She pulled it out in one swift motion.

A baby blue letter, with some violet and indigo tones. There was also a sizeable bunch of lavender tied to it with some white string.

Belle runs her hands over the crisp edges of the paper, "A letter with a flower attached. This letter... must be..."

Belle walks—a spring in her step—down the pavement; she brims with energy as the duo heads towards the pretty little gardening shop near the pier. Wise, on the other hand, tries his best to keep up as he was stuck with carrying all the things Belle had purchased in the last 2 hours. From a distance, it would seem he was some kind of exotic bird, with all the colourful bags and objects that he hefted around.

The bags shuffled and brushed against one another with each step he took. The amount of items was completely out of their budget at the moment, but who could blame him? Belle was so eager that when Wise tried to rein her in she looked just so dejected. Maybe he was too soft, but that didn't matter—he was happy going into the red if it meant seeing her so cheerful like that. 

Especially after he nearly lost her in a Hollow. 

Soon, the siblings arrived at Dew Gardening Shop. The deep cyan exterior of the building was well maintained as always, and the plants on display outside the store beckoned them closer. Condensation trickled down the large pane of frosted glass next to the door—through it, you could make out the muffled shapes of various plants placed on shelves or hanging from the ceiling. 

Being near this building was like breathing another atmosphere that was much slower and quieter than the rest of Lumina Square. It was as if you could stand there and take in all the mingling and mixing scents of flowers and herbs for hours while they whispered something inaudible, secret.

Perhaps that was why, no matter the time of day, there was always at least one person walking amongst the masterfully cultivated flowers of Dew Gardening Shop.

Wise is first to break the silence that the two hadn't realised they'd fallen into, "You head in first. I'm putting these in the car, I don't think I can enter the store in with all of this... stuff."

"You sure you're not getting cold feet~?" teased Belle, eyes smiling as she spoke with a michevious lilt.

Orchidea was a graceful and mysterious woman, not to mention very beautiful. The way her nectar-coated words flowed out of her mouth and how she always smelt of a different flower every time they met made it a daunting task to chat with her. Belle was more accustomed to talking with her, of course. Yet Wise had never actually held a conversation with her before—so it made sense for him to be even a bit nervous considering how Belle described her. But as usual, Wise's composed demeanour prevailed as he waved away Belle's tease. 

“Don’t get too caught up with the flowery lady!” He waves back as he heads towards the parking lot.

"What did you say!?"

"Nothing~"

Belle huffed, muttering something under her breath as she walked towards the store. She paused when she noticed a sign on the front door.

[CLOSED]

"Huh..." Maybe now wasn't a good time?

Belle contemplated knocking on the hardwood door but pulled her hand away before she could make the motion.

Suddenly, a voice calls from within.

"You can come in; the door is unlocked.”

Belle shrugs and twists the brass knob. Pushing the door open. It appears she’s walked into a conversation with...

“See? I knew my friend would be interested.” Says Orchidea, voice carried by the faint trace of incense burning somewhere in the room.

It's like a greenhouse, with potted flowers filling most of the space. A lone ceiling fan works languidly in the warm light.

Orchidea wears her signature sky blue blouse with glistening silver flower ornaments attached. Her black hair is held back by a silver hair clip, and several flowers act as earrings and hair ornaments. She seems unaffected by the humidity, sitting on a stool, hands resting on her lace skirt, amongst leaves and potted plants.

“...About exotic flowers?” Added Belle, causing Orchidea to turn to her, eyes narrow slits and mouth curled into a soft smile. 

“Perhaps.”

She smiles, somehow even softer than before, then turns to make way for her 'friend'... who walks out from behind a wall of vines.

“Hello!” waves the man in a freindly yet slightly soft voice; it’s like he’s sighing at the end of every word. 

Belle takes a good look at the man. How would you put it? He has a similar motif to Orchidea. He wears a baggy white shirt tucked into a pair of straight-fit pants that are not quite brown. The sleeves of his shirt are loose and bloom out; several metal flower ornaments also hang from his sleeves and multiple leather straps attached to his belt.

He's younger than the her and Wise, though she can't really say by how much.

His hair is even paler than Wise's; white, even. Long, messy, but not like bedhair. The bush is swept to one side to reveal his features, which are ever so slightly scarred. His jawline is rather sharp as well.

A single earring hangs from his ear—crimson-coloured; it resembles both a teardrop and a budding lotus.

“...Hi.” greeted Belle. He had a strange aura exuding from his plain figure.

“You can call me Weiss.” He smiled.

“Belle, nice to meet you!” She beams, shaking off the weird feeling. 

Belle reaches out her hand, and Weiss hesitates, an indercipherable expression on his face before he firmly clasps his hand around her’s. 

“Nice to meet you too; now, why don’t we get started?” he says, shaking her hand.

The touch lingers for an off second, and Belle had to suppress the urge to rub her hand that had turned inexplicably cold.

“Ah, okay, um. Brief introduction: I’m a part-time worker for Orchidea and a friend of hers. There’s a place I’d like to go, but I doubt that I’d be able to make it there on my own. Orchidea recommended you to me so…” he trailed off, lips pursing awkwardly.

Belle raised a brow. Part time? Last time she checked, Orchidea was the manager and sole employee of Dew. But she figured it was for the other side of her work and opted not to ask.

"You need our guidance? That can only mean one thing, really." 

"Yeah... wait, our?" Weiss stopped in his tracks, his onyx eyes widening in surprise.

Belle gave Orchidea a sidelong glance, to which the woman simply shrugged. 

"My brother and I work as Proxies together." 

"Is that so..." He muttered sheepishly.

"Anyways, what kind of commision are we talking about?" Continued Belle.

"Err... How would you put it..." Weiss began to mull over his words. 

It wasn't for long, but Belle spotted Orchidea make an expression she had never seen her make before: ever so slightly, her brow furrowed, and she huffed in annoyance (or was it exasperation?). However, besides her miniscule change of pressure, the manager of Dew still kept her soft smile, it's just that she looked like she was stung by a bee.

"What he means is that he wants you to navigate him through a Hollow and help him retrieve a set of special objects. The finer details will be discussed later. I trust that Weiss will do so?" Orchidea spoke calmly, though it was laced with an emotion Belle couldn't make out.

"Er... yeah." Nodded Weiss.

"There's no need to rush; I hope that you have a good day." Smiled the floral lady, “Oh, and…”

Orchidea hands over a bouquet. The flowers are a very soft light pink with a subtle fragrance, very beautiful.

“Have this, a 'token'.”

"...Thank you." says Belle.

Belle accepts the bouquet, letting the pleasant aroma wash over her. She already had an inkling of what it contained besides flowers.

Cradling the bunch close the her chest, she turns to exit the shop, stopping only momentarity to wave goodbye. Her exit is marked by the door thudding gently, causing some plants to sway gently from the soft breeze.

"Sorry." Apologised Weiss.

"It's fine." sighed Orchidea.

"...really?" 

"Of course. Though I am curious..."

"Hm?"

"Why do you need a Proxy this time? You usually head there yourself."

"The area has been unstable recently. It would be suicide to go there alone." 

Orchidea raised a brow and tilted hear head slightly, "How do you know that? Recent readings label it as an Ether Stable area." 

"Just a gut feeling."

"I see." She wasn't one to question; she trusted him anyway. 

Weiss leans back and gazes outside the window—a gloom starts to loom overhead, and it starts to get colder, chilly. In the distance, the low rumble of thunder makes itself known.

"It's going to rain." mumbles Weiss.

"It is." she confirms. 

The two stand in silence for a while, taking in the silent atmosphere. They don't need to speak; each other's company is enough. 

Rain starts to dot the sidewalk, then soaks it as the storm grows heavier. 

Weiss finally breaks the silence, his voice slightly hard to make out due to the growing downpour: "Say, have you ever seen the ocean?^[12]"

"You mean Port Elpis?"

"No, I mean, the open, unadultured sea far from the coastline, maybe even untouched lands. If they even exist."

Orchidea looks as Weiss, a faint confused expression weeding it's way through her carefully composed demeanour, "No. I don't think many people have. If any."

Maybe once, during the times of the old civilisation, travelling to the coastlines of far off lands was a common occurence. But not anymore. 

"Right. But if you went to the ocean, what would you do?" 

Orchidea rubs her chin for a second before replying, "I suppose I would walk barefoot in the wet sand and let the wind blow over me. Maybe search around for any interesting flora?"

Weiss smiles, "I'm afraid that there wouldn't be much of anything for you to find." 

"...you talk as if you've been there before." squints Orchidea, Weiss only shrugs it off.

"I'm entitled to my secrets. Though I might tell you over a cup of tea sometime." He says.

She scoffs, "You know I'm still your boss, right?"

"Okay, boss~"

"I prefer 'benefactor'." She corrects.

Weiss stares at Orchidea, feigning incredulousness.

"Pfft-" She couldn't help but snicker.

"Ugh. Okay! I'm heading off now!" groans Weiss as he turns for the door.

"Dea."

"Hm?" Paused Weiss, hand resting on the knob.

"Dea is fine."

"...see you later, Dea."

...

"Woah!" Shouted Belle, falling into her seat and slamming the door shut, "Why is the rain so heavy?"

"Already finished?" Asked Wise, "I was just about to head over."

"Yep, things were wrapped up pretty fast. I'm pretty sure most of the information is contained in this anyway." Says Belle, taking off her jacket as it had become damp. 

Belle shakes the bouquet in Wise’s face, causing the accumulated moisture to sprinkle all over him.

"Ack! Belle!" 

"What? I'm just drying it off."

"Not in my face!"

"Anyway..."

Carefully peering into the bouquet, Belle finds a small piece of paper tucked inside with a familiar encrypted URL; the ink had bled slightly, but it was still legible. 

"After we get home, I'll arrange the flowers and check out this latest commission." she says as she lifts the piece of paper out of the bouquet.

Wise wipes his face and starts the car, "So, anything interesting?" he says, revelling in the satisfying thrum of the engine while turning on the heater.

"Yeah. A lot."

^{[9]  Weeping willow—Mourning} 

^{Edelweiss—Chivalrous devotion, high courage; daring, noble purity}

^{Ipomoea—Attachment}

^{Spindle tree—Your image is engraved on my heart}

^{Scabius—Unfortunate attachment, I have lost all}

^{[10] The fairy, where do you go?}

^{Through twilight’s gleam,}

^{In Hollowlit stream, where do you roam?}

^{Amongst the Proxy of the gods?}

^{[11] A child could never fully part with the mother that gave them life, nor could a gardener's sheltered flower survive in the wilderness.}

^{[12] The cries of gulls and a strong ocean scent filled the air. Swimming in unison, shimmering shoals of fish raced around the coastline, zigzagging, dividing, and reuniting. Waves of mesmerising light reflected off these iridescent fish. There were penguins here too, rare after the collapse of ocean ecosystems. Captivating it was to watch them fly through the water, twisiting and turning and snapping up fish. The only thing that was surprising was that there were not more penguins feeding on such rich and easy pickings.}

^{Turn and walk around the coast; stroll for only a few minutes, and you will spot them: Initially, you would only see a few, black, unmoving, giving off a sort of radiant miasma. Walk for a few minutes longer and watch as they grow in size—until the whole beach appears to be covered in a carpet of black lumps. Hundreds of penguins lay dead in the sand, covered in a thick, cloying layer of crystallising substance. Each wave that broke brought another batch of carcasses on top of those that already lay long expired. The sight was dreadful.}

^{You understand why there are so few penguins enjoying the abundant waters—only a lucky few have avoided the dump of Ether waste that seeped into the ocean from god-knows-where. The nearly white backdrop of dry grass flailing in the chill air is contrasted grimly by the sickening sight that extends as far as the eye could see.} 

^{You walk briskly, unwilling to focus closely on the details that present themselves so close to you, but then—out of the corner of your eye—you find movement despite all the stillness. A single survivor struggling against all that death.}

^{Although it's lying on its belly, it's still very much alive. Holding its head up and moving with spasmodic jerks. Flapping its wings as if to fly, as if it weren't being killed by the very air it breathed. You could leave it there, walk on, abandon it. But could you leave it there amongst the poisonous fumes and corrupting crystals?  You decide you could not, and head toward it.}

^{You had no clear plan—in fact, no plan at all.  You approach the solitary penguin, inch closer as it struggles to it's feet, wings flapping wildly and with a distinct desperation.}

^{Amid all the obscenity, the single solitary penguin stood there, sparking with anger and eyeing you suspiciously.} 

^{How would you go about helping this aggressive, seething creature?}

^{You reach out your hand, only to retreat after the penguin shrieks at you with sharp metallic snaps.}

^{The poor thing is in pain. Of course it is, Etherous toxins seep into it’s pores, watch as it coughs and wheezes, trying to keep it’s airways open.}

^{The penguin’s flailing slows for a moment, and it collapses back onto its belly, trembling. You take a step back, racking your brain for a solution. All you have your bare hands and a growing sense of urgency.}

^{Its feathers are matted with the crystallizing waste, shimmering in the faint light like an oil slick. It would be unsanitary and dangerous, but you never cared much about yourself anyways. You lift it gingerly. It’s heavier than you expected, and its body radiates an unnatural heat, like a fever. A pessimist would conclude that was its dying throes, but it doesn't matter.}

^{The acrid smell of Ether waste clings to the air, melding with the oceanic breeze as you carry it into the horizon.}

Chapter Text

"This city grows upon the bones of ages long past." ^[13]

— unknown

In the midst of the journey, the moon and stars fade

But if we stand together,

will the hidden truths eventually come to light?

"Things can be lost, but stories live on forever. As long as our neurotransmitters can still transmit information, stories will come to life once again."

— It came to me in a dream

not your fault.

^{[Here it once swayed.]} 

An abrupt jolt; sharp, as if the whole world is pulling away. Lasting, breathless lucidity. 

The whole world is grey. A pale wasteland.

Weiss turns around, clouds churn above, moving impossibly fast, as though time itself has slipped its reins. At his feet, a water-like sheen ripples.

The air is silent.

Familiar, rough, ground. He drags himself across the barren expanse. The skeletons of buildings loom, howling silently into the dead air; the streets greet the lone king of an empty kingdom. 

A recurring nightmare. A lucid torment. This was his personal purgatory.

He trudges, and eventually he trespasses into the shadow of something outside his vision. The world darkens, the only source of light being his iridescent figure traversing the darkness—a pale, glistening light eeking.  Time warps around him—what feels like hours passes in seconds, and each step seems to stretch into days.

Then, jutting out against the dark expanse, a faint, near-nothing presence was gleaming. His body suddenly feels too heavy, dragging through the silence like it doesn’t belong.

The spectres of people dot the frozen world; they look familiar—well, at least some parts of them that weren't obscured by a blurriness that would slip from his mind the moment he saw them. Their gleam is paradoxically both black and a brilliant, mesmerising rainbow.

The distant echoes of people long lost; no one would believe him, of course. Who in their right mind would?

Weiss comes to a stop, feeling something was off. The... spectres... ghosts? He couldn’t articulate something that could accurately describe how those things bored holes in the back of his head, making his breath hitch with each passing glance.

He didn’t know when or how, but they surrounded him now, in a tightly packed circle. They tower above, their presence oppressive.

And he is very.

Very.

Small. ^[14]

It is a suffocating feeling. One that feels all too familiar. And with it comes a discordant cacophony—a broken record of memories: the scrape of pen on paper, the hum of a ventilator, the shriek of a klaxon.

But then they all dissipate, recoiling, as if fleeing from something. And it turns out they really were. He turns around and comes face-to-face with... something. A familiar something.

It was humanoid, but its limbs were far too dark and long to be a man. Its visage is fuzzy, like looking through a foggy window. 

His eyes itch. No, not just itch—burn, prickle, twist as though the nerves themselves are recoiling. He fixes his gaze on it—the thing, the entity, the absence of a shape that nonetheless insists on being seen. Insists on him seeing. Rainbow static dances across its surface—or is it its skin? It’s alive and swirls with a murkiness that isn’t black or grey but the shadow of colours that shouldn’t exist. 

A jagged noise blasts and washes over him.

A familiar noise, no, it would be improper to call it a noise, a twisted song, a twisted melody, twisted stories. Strange was the least he could call it; it was beautiful, was it? Could anyone with the slightest bit of sense ever find a shred of beauty in it's horrid form? A crazy person would; maybe he was crazy—had been for a long while now. 

A friend. An overstatement. A lie. Many things.

"monster." The gurgling static of a voice is nearly unintelligible. It was abrupt, cutting through the silence with a serrated edge.

It terrified Weiss; every cell in his body shuddered as those words pried themselves into his ears—a nauseating, sickening feeling, blanketed by the sharp ache that spread across his cranium. 

"you."

Involuntarily, he started to tear up, but his tears crystalized as they pooled at his eyes. 

"your fault."  The world trembles.

He stumbled back, "My fault..? Oh. No. I-I didn’t-“

The air began to cry. Shriek.

"your fault." The voice became clearer but still missed any semblance of human emotion.

"No! No! NO!" Weiss cried; he could barely hear himself think over the muffling, oppressive force and the quickening tightening in his chest. "STOP!"

"no amount of tears." A male voice began to emerge. 

The cold, writhing pressure increased, and the buzz and static hounding him grew and grew—until his heart quickened, beating in a erratic frenzy.

“could ever amount to it.”

The world spun.

“impossible redemption. false freedom.”

Weiss shakes his head violently, trying to break free. This isn't real. A cruel vision. It wasn’t his fault! ^[16]

But why did it feel so real? So visceral? 

^"No!" 

The entity looms closer, it's form warping, it's voice twisting. "all. your. fault."

It sounded a lot like...

"NO!!!"

He screamed himself awake, clawing for air and surface.

Weiss rubs his face, breathing deeply to steady himself. Slowly, he turns toward the window.

His reflection greets him—but only for an instant; gradually—like his image recoiled in revulsion—a pitch black creature replaced where a man should be.

”what the fuck!?”

Weiss scrambled up and stumbled off his bed, but instead of hitting the floor, he falls into a winding corridor—painted blood red. 

He tumbles, flailing around, spinning. The overwhelming red strobe is head splitting. The hallway twists, folding onto itself like a Kaleidoscope.

His heart drops—careening violently—dragged out like how a violin screams when strung the wrong way. His eyes water from the brunt wind.

He screams silently, plunging deeper and deeper until—

He shoots awake again, jolting as if his soul had been hurled back into his body.

Rising from his bed, he sat there stunned for a moment—gasping—and basking in his cold sweat.

He's frozen, before pinching his cheek. The sharp pain anchors him and he exhales sharply, tentatively, he then turned to face the window.

There it was, a faint mirage, mocking him from an impossible distance. Yet it filled the entirety of his vision and occupied his mind, boring in like a worm.

Then he blinked, and it was gone.

Dawn's fire spilt over the horizon and over the tops of trees; even so, it was incredibly early, which earned a sigh of infinite relief from Weiss. He rubbed his face in exhaustion and let out a small whimper.

He still wasn't used to it; that was the cruelty of it. It’s been so long, yet it haunted him so—the harrowing halls of that place.

Grunting as he shuffled out of bed, he dragged himself to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea—to wake him up and forget about that bizarre nightmare. As he went about doing so, a rather plump and groggy penguin^[16] rubbed up against his leg.

Weiss poured a jug of water into a kettle propped on the stove, he then switched the stove on. The heat warmed his chilled body, and he sighed as the waves of warmth washed against his skin. 

He leaned into his hands while he waited for the kettle to boil. He spoke in muffled tones: 

"...morning, Edel." His voice nearly breaks in the back of his throat, the words coming out like a poorly tuned chord. 

The penguin squaked brightly, nuzzling against the fabric of his pants. 

"Yeah, another one of those nightmares." he said, trying to blink away some of the lingering grogginess. He pursed his lips, before dragging out a groan. He plays it off like it was normal. It wasn't. The pin pricks of pain welled up in his cheek and his chest and in his mouth as he tried to wipe tears off his words. 

Edel squawked again, her dark eyes gleaming with a strange concern. A coarse cough exited his mouth as he tried to speak; he hadn't noticed before, but his throat was dry. He didn't know why he bothered to prepare some tea^[17]  when he could've just drank some water. 

Parched, he smiled tiredly, "I'm fine..." 

As steam starts to billow out from the kettle, he switches the stove off and prepares a cup. After setting it down on the table, Wiess clumsily reached into a drawer a pulled out a random blend; it didn't matter what it was, he just needed something to drink.

Edel tugs at the rim of his pants, not wanting to let go.

He chuckles dryly, "I can't stay home today. I have something to do.”

Weiss pets the top of the penguin’s head. His hand glides to and fro across the feathers, some areas patchy and thin; like they hadn't completly healed from an old injury. Nevertheless, the bird cooed affectionately.

“Something very important." 

…

^{[The rhythm of the night. Pitter patter of the rain. A cone of light; the bright sheen of dust dancing at dusk. The hum of air conditioning, the flow of your blood, the sound of cars late at night. The ringing in your ears when all is silent. The buzz at the end of your fingertips and the weight of your eyelids; the distinct sound that you just can't put a finger on, the beating of your heart, the flow of water from a tap, the hum of incandescent lights, the rise and fall of your chest, the sound of the city outside—the low growl of engines in the distance, a dog barking somewhere down the street, footsteps splashing through puddles, thunder rumbling during a storm... ]}

Hollow Zero looms in the distance, the thing in all it's enormity occupying much of the skyline, similarly, the Shiyu Pillars rose up against the background; tinted red from the evening sun, a misty shroud encapsulating them. They spewed out strings of exhaust that peirced the clouds; the concentration of energy causes rocks and debris to circle around like a halo. 

Scott Outpost is idylic, almost serene. It was unexpected, for the center of all Hollow Zero-related research and suppression activity it always carried a soft atmosphere. Maybe that was a way of masking the underlying dread of having such a foreboding sight right in front of your very eyes. 

Belle stares silently into the depths of the Hollow… longingly? She admitted she felt a tinge of that, but the strongest thing was conviction.

She felt a pang of nostalgia growing in her chest, and tried to look deeper, to find what she was really looking for. 

There it was, deep inside Hollow Zero, under the rubble of the Old Capital's ruins...

...The Helios Academy, that's her and Wise’s real home.

Their teacher is right there. She'll be at the entrance with Eous, waiting for them. She always liked to stand to the right of the building's plaque. 

"A lot's happened..." She mutters under her breath. 

A familiar voice interrupts her half-hearted remark.

"Belle?" 

"Yes?" The wind carries away her unfinished words. 

She turns around to meet the reason she was here in the first place. 

"Are we ready to head off soon?" Asked Weiss awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt the moment he thought she was having. 

Belle changed her tone instantly, voice light and chipper, "We can leave as soon as your ready!"

But was it really so obvious she was being sentimental? 

"But I have something to ask..." she slowed down, a hint of apprehension in her voice; half of it was out of professionalism, and another half was her own concern. 

"Weiss, are you sure, absolutely sure, that you're fine going in alone? Hollow Zero is a dangerous place and I cant guarantee that things will always go smoothly, even if I'm skilled proxy." She cautioned.

"Nah, I'm good." He responed; it came off as arrogant and cocky, but Belle had seen her fair share of overconfident and cocky agents and they turned out just fine, so she let it slide. Not that she had any issue either, with her experience as the face of Phaeton she could tell from a glance wether or not someone was skilled.

And Weiss was skilled, but not like most of the other agents she worked with, the man carried no weapon, neither did he look particularly built. If she was being frank, he looked soft; and if he weren't wearing a lanyard provided by the outpost the people here would mistake him for a civilian and send him on his way.

But her instincts told her something else, that there was something hidden beneath his timid demeanor.

Belle relented, 'Hehe... fine then—how about five minutes?" she still had her doubts, but she wasn't paid to doubt, and she was paid a very hefty sum. Completely disproportionate to the difficulty of the commision.

So if she was going to take on this commision, she better do it right. 

"That's fine." smiled Weiss, "I'll head to the helipad now."

Waiting for Weiss to walk out of sight, Wise called from the communicator Belle kept strapped to her waist:

"Belle, I have a hunch..." Wise wondered thoughtfully, "This might be more trouble than it's worth."

"Really? The commision doesn't seem difficult at all. I mean, it is Hollow Zero talking about but the area we're heading has been marked as Ether Stable for ages." 

"You're right... I even caught wind that they plan to use it as a training ground..." Wise admitted, thinking about something before speaking, "It just seems too easy relative to the pay. As for Weiss, he seems suspicious."

"He doesn't seem bad~ Plus, Orchidea vouched for him, that means something."

"I'm just saying that he hasn't been completely transparent with his intentions, the information he gave was pretty vague."

"Eh, why does it matter? With this commision we wouldn't have to worry about our ludricous electicity bill for at least a month!" 

"Belle..." 

"And then we could buy some new tapes for the store! Oh! And repair the work car, buy some new outfits for Eous..."

"Belle." 

"Hm?"

"Maybe... we should call for some backup? Just in case? We wouldn't want to mess this up."  

"..." Belle slows down, realising she had gotten too excited, "That seems good... Wise?"

"Already on it," He says, contacting some agents through Knock Knock, "They'll watch from the sidelines in case anything goes south."

"Alright! Lets get started then!"

...

^{[Nineveh: A swarm, and thus a plural entity, buzzing, inhabited by beasts and worthy of destruction by the hands of God.]}

The Wilted Glade.

A relatively stable area in Hollow Zero. It was different than most, as there were large open swaths of land that separated clusters of ruins.

It was once a national reserve for flora and fauna, but they had all perished during the fall, so the area was barren.

The sight was serene, almost filmic, like you would expect a bird to chirp or critter to chitter. But it was silent, save for gusts of wind and the sound of gravel crunching beneath one’s feet. Rolling hills of grey arched over the horizon. And in the distance, jagged crystals jutted out of the ground, stabbing the sky.

That was what Belle could glean, at least, looking out from a large outcrop on an elevated highway; the rest of the old capital was behind them. Out there was an empty expanse.

Weiss spoke to the Bangboo leading the way:

“This place is empty… unlike a 'garden' just south of here...” It was an arbitrary remark: space and time held no power in a Hollow.

“What happened here…?” Spoke Belle, through Eous.

Using the Bangboo’s little stubby limbs, she climbed atop a derelict car. Taking a moment to survey her surroundings, she spoke again, this time a little in awe.

”It’s almost…”

”Peaceful?” 

”Yeah!—it’s so still and calm. I couldn’t of imagined there was a place like this in Hollow Zero…”

Weiss looks off into the distance, "Not quite..."

"Hm?"

Weiss’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint shadow of something—melancholy, perhaps—flickering in his eyes. He gestured slightly toward the jagged crystals in the distance.

“Not quite peaceful. Stillness like this… it doesn’t come naturally. Not here.”

Belle furrowed her brows, hopping down from the derelict car with an audible creak of metal. She dusted off Eous' stubby arms, tilting the Bangboo's head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Weiss chuckled, though it carried no warmth, "What you see here is nature erased. It's peaceful because there's nothing to disturb, not even Ethereals. See there?"

Belle followed Weiss' gaze to the dusty dunes.

"The day the old capital fell, this was one of the first places to be overrun. The change was so drastic, the Ether so volatile, that the life here didn't even have the chance to be corrupted, everything just crumpled into dust."

Belle frowned, the emotion lost through the Eous' digital faceplate, "You're saying it's dead."

“Not just dead,” Weiss replied, finally turning his attention back to her. “Drained. Every part of this land. Gone."

Belle flinched at his words, the movement small but noticeable. “But… it doesn’t feel sinister, like the rest of Hollow Zero. It doesn’t have that… heaviness to it.”

Weiss nodded, crossing his arms. “That’s what makes it unsettling. It’s a wasteland that doesn’t even bother pretending to be hostile. Just… indifferent. Like it’s given up on trying to be anything at all.”

“Then why does it feel so^[18]…” She struggled for the word, her voice quiet, almost reverent. Weiss waits for her to speak, but the words die in her throat. 

Weiss goes to speak, but Belle cuts him off.

"If that's the case... then why come here?" She was still apprehensive about all this, especially with him.

"You'll see soon enough."

Belle paused, letting the soft sound of… buzzing? Wash over her. Many indistinct buzzes, like a hornet’s. It slowly grew louder with each passing moment.

Weiss sighed before shouting, his commanding tone startling Belle, “Or not—take cover. Now!”

Belle stammered, “Huh!? Wait!!” Why was she the one being ordered around? Wasn’t she supposed to be the lead?

"Fairy! What's happening?" 

"Ether activity is rising exponentionally, Master. 231 contacts detected due South."

Following the AI's report, a loud rumble could be heard coming from from behind.

Eous twirled around, "Oh shit..." 

"Symbiotic Ethereal Swarm - Code Name: Nineveh is fast approaching."

^{[13] It is seldom said that mould is a symbol of life, when it is so commonly associated with death and decay.}

^{But realise this: New Eridu sprouts from the ruins of the Old Capital, Eridu itself taking root in the carcasses of the Old Civilization. It goes on and on, the inexorable march of destruction. Yet life still persists; after every fall comes something new, all because of the perseverance of life. And what does life do? It eats to survive, in this case not in the form of predators feasting on freshly hunted prey but as rotters nibbling on corpses.}

^{From mould springs new life even from the grimmest of circumstances, and I think that is a beautiful thing.}

^{Because ‘rot’ …is a story of life. And stories stay with you.} 

^{[14]  Like a child, trapped in that cold, dark place.} 

^{[15] He was a very free man, not much could tie him down, be it iron shackles or gilded words and sly contracts. But the one of the few things that did anchor him wasn’t tangible: it was guilt, guilt that despite a certain women’s best wishes, he carries around like a yoke. It weighs on him in ways no chain ever could, pressing down on his shoulders, curling into his chest, always.} 

^{Such is the nature of trauma; one could not ‘get rid’ of it, only accept it as a part of your person, live with it, and maybe even grow from it. Moreover, it clouded one’s view, faulting themselves for things that were out of their control.} 

^{To live with it was not simply to forget, nor try to find rhyme or reason, but to coexist with the memories; allow them a place in his mind without letting them dictate his every step. Sometimes the balance felt impossible, like in nightmares like these, but ultimately, it was the past.}

^{Remember and cherish the past, or resent it, but in the end, the future is much more important. So use the past as a compass for your steps into the future.}

^{And live.}

^{[16] The penguin lets out a raspy squawk, its breathing still labored but no longer as erratic. Much of the crystals had been removed, and it was only a matter of time and rest until the remaining growths would dissapear.} 

^{You hold the cystals in your hand—they stab into your palm and cause a static to crawl across your skin. A familiar feeling. You never thought you could save another life, even if it belonged to a lame animal. Even after you watched so helplessly all those years ago. Were you too weak? No, you were just a child; children are meant to play, to grow, to love. To lead an ordinary, happy life. But you never did have that chance, did you? Not without losing someone you cherished so much, maybe even the only thing you cherished.}

^{The jagged edges of the crystals catch the light. The static sensation creeps up your arm, familiar and unwelcome, reminding you of the days when survival felt like a curse rather than a victory.}

^{You toss the crystals to the ground as if rejecting their power, but the feeling doesn’t leave you. It never does. The crystals—Ether—are part of you, just as they’re part of the land, the sea, and the dying creatures that inhabit this Ether stained world.}

^{The penguin lets out another faint squawk, pulling you back to the present. It blinks at you, its dark eyes glassy but alert. It’s alive, at least for now, and that’s something.}

^{You sigh—unsure if it was out of fatigue or relief, maybe both—and gesture for it to follow you.} 

^{It stares in confusion; for a split second, it seems it would return to it's home in the sea. But it waddles after you.}

^{A friend.} 

^{[17]  Surely you have routines you do when you are stressed? It can be as simple as breathing exercises or massaging your temples, really. Maybe you sometimes catch yourself doing it without realizing? Like the fatigue had dulled your awareness, causing your body to fall back on what’s familiar; whatever the case, those small, unconscious rituals often hold us together when the world feels like too much for little ol' you and me.}

^{[18] Even emptiness can be beautiful in its own way. But don’t mistake it for life. Because this place is a reminder of what was, and what can never be again.}