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Webby felt a darkness disappear from the space around her as she finished one of her songs. She turned her gaze to the air, trying to use her senses to confirm it… before nodding to herself. Wiggly could rest easy. He’d given up now.
She didn’t know why Wilbur was so insistent on paying him a visit- she was too busy focusing on her brothers to pay much attention to what was going on in the Black- but she figured it couldn’t be anything good. The fact that he lingered for so long after she arrived, waiting for her to leave… that was just more concerning. Wilbur Cross was a man who only wasted his time on something if he thought it was worth the effort.
Why, then, did he linger? What was it about the opportunity to speak with a powerless version of the entity he’d been serving for years that was so worth the time wasted, especially during a time like this where he was left at the top of the command chain?
She stopped as that thought popped in her head. The top of the command chain… no, she didn’t need to think about that yet. She could focus on it once she was sure she had the time- for now, there was something else she wanted to do.
This place was Wiggly’s Nightmare Time. Of course, that’s what it had to be- the inside of his mind, taking a form almost as strange as it was meaningful. Everyone in Hatchetfield had a Nightmare Time, and they all looked very distinct from one another. But her brothers had never had one until today.
This presented her with a unique opportunity to answer a strange question: what was Wiggly’s worst nightmare? She didn’t even think Wiggly was capable of having nightmares… well… until yesterday morning, that was.
She never thought she’d see the day her brother cried. She didn’t think it would be because of something she did to him, either. And she couldn’t deny that she felt awful about it- they’d been together since birth, after all. They very rarely agreed with each other, but it was undeniable that they were close… depending on what you’d define as “close”, anyways.
Wiggly always said her empathy was her biggest flaw. Perhaps he was right about that.
However, it was all the more reason why she had to do this. Humility’s a virtue, pride’s a sin- and while a display of weakness like that wasn’t exactly “humility”, you can’t learn to live with your weaknesses if you don’t even acknowledge that they exist. She truly believed that being confronted with what they’d been hiding inside of themselves for so long would do them good; all of them good, not just Wiggly.
So, she stepped forth into his Nightmare Time, putting her hands back on her ukulele, and began to sing a new song. Not the ones she’d been singing to his unconscious mind over the past ten or so minutes, nor the one she used to trap them all like this. Something similar to one she used to sing to Hannah, but… this time slightly different.
“The Beast of the Black wants power; power over all
From the heights of his lonely tower, he ruled, and his reign was tall
But his throne’s been taken from him: in my web, he writhes and crawls
For he was only the Beast since I allowed him
To have power, over all.”
Webby couldn’t deny that if Wiggly could hear this now, he’d probably feel extremely insulted. Then again, he was easily insulted by a lot of things, especially things involving her.
The appearance of this Nightmare Time was curious. She hadn’t ventured deep enough into it to get a good look yet, but from what she could tell it was some sort of desert, filled with a dark grey, dusty substance. Ash, perhaps? Why would his Nightmare Time be filled with ash?
Those were questions she figured she would have to find the answers to herself. Luckily, it would be fairly easy if she just kept moving towards the heart of the nightmare. All the while, she continued to sing.
“The Beast of the Black is scary, but only in his mind
Many secrets he keeps buried; those memories are mine
He’s prideful and he’s selfish, but just remember this:
The Beast becomes a coward
When he remembers, what he is.”
She hummed to herself as she prepared to move on to the final verse. But soon, that began to slow, and eventually came to a stop as she decided she didn’t have the words yet to fully describe what she thought about her brother and the situation she’d put him in.
So her ukulele dissipated into light as she walked forth, no sound left but the crunch of ash under her feet.
They said pride was the root of all evil. Humans knew this well, even if they rarely kept it in mind- especially around Hatchetfield. But the one question she never heard even the wisest mortal philosophers ask was this; what is the root of pride?
She was well aware, especially after yesterday morning in Lakeside Mall, that her brother’s arrogance was just a mask to conceal something darker, something weaker… but more than just that, what was he actually after in the grand scheme of things? What did he want?
Eventually, as Webby pondered, she thought back to one of the previous loops she and her brothers lived through. The Black Friday from Hell, and the Lakeside Mall Cult… their pride and greed was as a result of a sense of… emptiness, a hole in their bodies that they thought Wiggly would fix.
At around the same time, an idea came to her. Pride out of a sense of longing, emptiness… that sure reminded her of her brother. He and Nibbly were similar in that they both had this sense of everlasting desire that could never be satisfied, no matter how much they consumed. It was just that Nibbly’s kind of hunger was… well, it was considerably more literal than Wiggly’s.
She had a good idea of what he would do to Earth if he had things his way. Turn every living being in sight into a personal plaything for his entertainment, crush anything that tried to resist being made into one of his helpless puppets… and play and torment for eternity until everything but his throne was reduced to ash.
Reduced to… ash…
She looked back to the ground, beginning to realise something about the substance covering the floor. A desolate wasteland, with nothing but ash in sight…
What if Wiggly’s worst nightmare… was also his greatest dream?
Her brothers were apex predators, and like all predators, they relied on the existence of prey. They craved chaos, and violence, but more than anything else, the Lords in Black craved attention. If one of those five were just… left on their own, nobody around, nobody to torment, nobody to be tormented by… nothing they could possibly do about it…
…And who was Wiggog Y’rath other the Lord who craved attention- torment and praise alike- the most?
As she pondered, her eyes turned back to the Nightmare Time. Before her was a large, black throne covered in all kinds of cracks and chips. It was still mostly intact, but in the state it was left in, and in a place like this… it was clear it wasn’t long for this world. At its base were a series of lit candles, making it resemble a memorial more than anything else.
It seemed she’d reached the heart of the nightmare. And more importantly, from what she could tell, her suspicions about the meaning of this place were right.
Webby hesitantly sat atop the throne, careful not to damage it. As she did, a number of ash piles that stood out against the rest of the dunes caught her attention.
Five ash piles…
…Five siblings.
…
…
…For a few seconds, she just stared at them, the implications seeping into her mind… and then, she sighed.
He promises to fix all of the holes, but he doesn’t.
What was Wiggly’s hole, then? What was he doing this for? What was worth putting in all this effort, for all this time, working towards a dream that he had to know- at least to some subconscious extent, since this was his Nightmare Time- wasn’t even going to give him what he was actually after?
…Did he even know himself?
She sat there, silent. It seemed that wasn’t a question either of them could answer just yet. All she could do was nudge him in the right direction, if at all possible, and see how things run their course.
There was a soft flash of light, and her ukulele reappeared in her hands. She may not know what her brother was fighting for… but now, she thought she had the words required to finish that last verse.
Webby took a deep breath, and finished where she left off.
“The Beast of the Black wants power; his greed, it never stalls
If left on his own, he’d devour; he’d fight ‘till he ruled it all
I could end his reign for good now, but that’s not right, oh no
For his greed, it persists for a reason
Until
He lets it go.”