Archive of Our Own

Cold was the night, and these nights were usually so. The rain did not help matters, as every living thing, from the smallest bird to the largest person, all hid from the rain and the cold. But so was the lay of the land in New Orleans.

It was in one of these hiding spots that something was occurring. In a small cabin outside of the city, there was a family. A small one, to be exact. There was a woman that fretted over how the bills would be paid. An older girl was feeling complicated about her newest housemate. Then…there was the youngest girl. A growing child, a strange child, a demon child with an unholy mark upon her forehead. At least, that's what the priest at the church said. 

The little girl did not truly care. Most of her heart had been torn apart by the world at this point. What did she care about what anyone thought, in this new town she found herself in…

The town did smell. A lot. Reminds her of the Gotham City swamp a little bit. She had never been there before physically, but thanks to her curse, her body did not need to be there for her to…well, BE there. Her unique abilities were a consequence of her curse. Thinking of what gave her this curse, the monster that took…her….well it made the demon child feel absolutely distraught. It would take up days of her life.

It was on this particular night that the girl had decided to do something…fun. Once, when she was bored, the little girl had used her curse to sneak into the mind of some radio host that made something confronting. He was gothic, unafraid to be a creator of fearful things and treated the occult with respect. 

That’s when she realized she wanted to do the same.

Her curse was many things. Many things she did not like. But it could be useful if used correctly. So here she was, sitting in her bed with a book in front of her. She had been working on this for some time now, and she would be the only audience. Perhaps she may have stolen a few things…a few people…but in the end she was able to create something she was proud of…something that could bring true fear.

Even if it was considered immoral to capture people while they are sleeping into her fictional backdrop, and if it was considered illegal by magic standards to create a fictional dimension…but she knew to cover her tracks well. Being a demonic, unholy offspring of course.

So it was her nature to be in complete darkness, but it was hard to read in.

“Hmm, well I guess it is that time…” She murmured to herself. The girl shook her hands a bit while she attempted to shed some light on the situation. 

Upon the pale girl’s forehead, imbued and fused into her skull, was a bright red diamond. It was dark, and was usually mistaken for a costume piece. But whenever her feelings were strong, when her mind became overwhelmed, or whenever she used an inkling of her magic, the gem would light up a bright red color, as dark and flavorful as blood.

“Azarath…mentrios…zinthos?” The demon girl summoned. With a poof of smoke her questions were answered. Out of the poof was a small jack-o-lantern. It’s face held a crooked smile and hastily cut out eyes. But the light it shone, was undeniably helpful. So the little jack-o-lantern floated above the girl, shining its orange light onto the book before her.

With that, she began to read…

”Once upon a time…” 

=============================================================

This day was very bad…very very bad.

Just three days before the release of her newest novel, the biggest author of the world, Ms. Queen Tsarista has gone missing. The moment the news broke out, the world quite literally went mad. 

Riots in the street, bookshops being lit on fire, and the police were overrun in multiple cities. Her books were a worldwide phenomenon, telling fables of all kinds, from the littlest riding hood, to the wooden boy with a cricket in his ear. Of course people would be mad that her self proclaimed “magnum opus” would be delayed.
And Clark Kent was late to the bosses meeting.

“GET IN HERE KENT!” yelled out Mr. Lord from his office. The assistant in question wasted no time in rushing into his boss’s office with his coffee order in hand. The city was already in chaos, there was no need to start up a disaster in the office.

The assistant wasted no time. The coffee was on the desk, the paperwork was neat, and the assistant was sitting down before Mr. Lord could say anything. 

Sorry I’m late Mr. Lord!” He bashfully exclaimed. He quickly fixed his glasses and looked up. Sitting on the chair near Mr. Lord’s walnut desk was a woman. A very pretty woman. 

The assistant couldn’t help but look at her, she sat in a way that spoke coolness. A trenchcoat covered her form, only her heels stuck out of the bottom of the coat. A bobbish cut of hair sat on her head, covered by a stylish fedora. Her eyes…they were gorgeous. It reminded Clark of polished obsidian, the beauty of the rock emphasized with a pair of red glasses.

“Like what you see, Smallville?” 

At this point did the assistant realize he was staring. 

“Uh…well…uh that is…” he tried to compose himself at the cute yet familiar nickname. Mr. Lord, however, did not seem to appreciate it.

”Ah, keep it in your pants Kent, we have work to do,” Mr. Lord snapped his fingers, and the woman (after an eye roll) put something down on his desk. It was a large piece of paper-no…it was a map. A very messy looking map.

”As you know, our biggest money maker went completely off the map. Until this morning we had no clue where she could be, but thanks to Ms. Lane here,” he pointed to the woman to the left of him. Lane. That was a nice name.

“We have a location. A chance to get Tsarista back to the office in time for the signing tour!” Mr. Lord slammed his head onto the desk, his brown eyes lighting up for a second. While Clark was accustomed to the behaviour and quirks of his boss, the mere act of being so…aggressive was never something he enjoyed seeing.

”So I need you and Ms. Lane over here to get to this address,” Mr. Lord’s finger jammed straight into the X marked in red on the map.

”…and bring Tsarista back within the next two days. Capiche?” Clark nodded, and got up to get the map. Ms. Lane came up to him first.

”Pleasure to meet ya’, Kent?” she raised her hand towards him, and he took it in kind.

”That’s my name yes, you can call me Clark if thats easier.” Her hand was soft, but with a roughness to it that spoke of hard work. A familiar feeling to a farm boy.

”Well, you can call me Lois then.” She responded with a smile. It was a fun kind of smile. 

“Glad you two are already getting along,” Mr. Lord interrupted, leading to the two people releasing hands. 

“Now take this map,” he pushed the map into Lois’s hands.

”And get going already!” He yelled. The two found themselves outside his office within the second. The office was still very full. Clark looked to Lois, keeping those nice eyes in mind as she scratched the back of her head.

”You think he’d be more respectful considering he hired me to help out with this whole thing,” she waved her hand around at the words. But she had that fun smile again, the kind that clearly meant something to her.

“You ready for a ride Kent?”

====================================

The car was clean, which Clark was thankful that he remembered to clean it out. He never had a girl in his car before, and he’d be a disgrace not to make sure she would feel comfortable in his car. 

Ms. Lane sat in the passenger seat, looking at the map. Clark and her were silent as he turned onto the freeway. It took a moment longer, as he had to avoid a bullet-fast car that passed them before they could get on.

“Jesus! People don't know how to drive these days,” Ms. Lane scoffed. Clark could only nod as he kept an eye on the road, making sure to check the lanes every few seconds. 

He’d be darned if he allowed a passenger to get hurt in his car.

“Well Ms. Lane, most people aren’t careful like us,” He noted. In fact, the car that had passed them had smoke coming from its behind, yet it continued to drive forward. Its bright red paint glistened in the sun, the black smog spewing from its muffler ruining its shine.

Ms. Lane gave him a look. Despite its pointedness towards him, the glare felt right on her face. Maybe it was just his interpretation of her overcoming his senses.

“This is my first time in a car with you Kent, so we’ll have to see if that statement of yours holds water eh?” She opened up the map again, pointing her eyes at some point of it, probably the X on it.

“And I told you to call me Lois,” She responded.

“Ah!” Clark exclaimed, fixing his glasses. Right, she did say that. So Clark just agreed and continued to drive, looking over every once in a while at Ms. Lane Lois. The car drove at a steady pace down the highway overlooking the city. The absence of cars (any cars for that matter) allowed Clark to see the city at its fullest as they made their way forward.

It was sights like that that made him wish he could fly.

Those fantasies ended as they reached the tunnel leading to the outskirts of the city, and to the long stretch of country road ahead of them

“We’ll be there in a few hours right?” He asked Lois.

“Yes, just a couple, I can take a driving shift when you get tired, Smallville,” She noted, looking at the map once again.

Clark looked back to the road, the tunnel surrounding the car now. This would be easy right? In an out, hopefully Ms. Tsarista would be willing to come back with them. Besides, driving a little while would be nice, as long as it didn’t take too long!

============================================================= 

The void was all they could see now. 

Clark kept his eyes on the road, his mind wishing the Sandman would whisk his mortal form to the land of dreams. But he had to stay awake. It was the only way they were going to get there. 

“I’ll keep looking for a landmark, Kent…” Lois murmured from her seat. Did she take a driving shift? He wasn’t sure. Regardless, the assistant kept his eyes focused. The headlights of the car illuminated the road before them, and nothing else. There was just darkness around them now. Not just a few hours anymore, it seemed.

A part of Clark was annoyed and even angry at Mr. Lord for once again putting him in a situation like this. But, at times like these, Clark remembered something his ma once said:

“Whenever someone gives you trouble for no reason, and people will do that, you just have to know when to step back and do something else. They’ll have no one to bother but themselves.”

(It was a nice quote, from a faceless figure in his mind. It shouldn’t be faceless, yet the speaker is regardless).

“Uhh,” he started, swallowing again as the car jumped up slightly from yet another bump. “Sounds good Lois,” Clark yawned a bit, making sure that if anything pointed out to him, he would see it. 

It was here he decided to focus on Lois once more. She was just as she was back in Mr. Lord’s office, serious, but with a tinge of playfulness that made her interesting to be around. She had that air of authority and curiosity that all PIs seemed to have. With her pulled back hair, collared shirt, tie and pretty eyes, everything came together. 

“Lost your train of thought there, Smallville?” she huffed with a sharp smirk on her painted lips. “Thought you assistant types were all about keeping your head in the game.”

“W-well, I…” he took a breath of air, even went as far as opening his window to let some of the cold air in. 

“I guess I tend to lose focus when multitasking Ms. Lane, I’m sure you’ve had that problem in the past regarding your…” he cleared his throat. 

“...well your profession, Ms. Lane.”

“Firstly, call me Lois, I told you this. Otherwise I just sound like some old office worker,” she spoke back with an air of humor that her face did not convey.

“Secondly, I can’t afford to lose focus in my, as you put it, profession.” She eyed him with a side glance, and even in the total darkness surrounding the car they traversed in, he could see those amber eyes almost glowing with the glimmer of the headlights presence. 

“And to finish what you couldn’t, we need to get this writer back to BlackGold before your boss has another conniption over ‘sales dates’ and ‘legions of fans’ or whatever else he’ll yell about.” she huffed a small laugh, a welcome sound contrasting the absolute stillness outside. 

“Yeah, he’s usually like that.” At least, from as long as Clark knew him…which was a while wasn't it? Besides the weird memory gap, Clark was happy to be conversing with someone else. His mind worked to create answers that kept him both awake and aware.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you even get that map?” It was a sudden thought, but one he forgot to ask earlier. Lois didn’t hesitate with the answer.

“I found it sent to my office just the other day. Had some gibberish written on the back,” she looked out to the darkness on the outside of the car. 

“Turns out it was latin. Had the location name and some weird message about Tsarista’s stories being ‘the truth’ or something,” Lois emphasized with a twitch of her fingers. Clark made a small verbal acknowledgement at the story, not too sure what to say about it.

After that the small talk seemed to fade. Once again it was two people in a car driving to a town they never heard of. The inside of the car had once again matched the outside world surrounding them.

Silent.

Nothing but the gentle hum of the aged engine and the flickering of the headlights that guided their path. Even then, the light was just barely illuminating the street. A few bumps made the car jump. It wasn’t unexpected. This road didn't pop up anywhere except for the map they were given. Bumps and even cracks were expected. 

At least Clark no longer felt like going to sleep.

But the thoughts did seem to come back, the strange thoughts of where they were exactly. Just an hour ago it seemed like they entered that tunnel leading to the outskirts. The car came out of the tunnel right? They would have noticed if they didn’t. But the pure black void that appeared to surround them whispered a different thought to Clark. That instead of leaving the tunnel…did it simply grow wider? Enough that you couldn’t see where it began and where it ended? Clark thought of this, and wondered if maybe he had driven them in a large circle. He thought that maybe he was wrong for driving them first.

Until the church appeared.

It was a sudden sight, something that the headlights reflected on. One that caused Clark to press his foot to the break, just a small bit. It was enough to jolt both people in the car out of whatever silent stupor they found themselves in. 

“Ah!” Lois exclaimed, her body jerking forward at the sudden slowing. 

“What the hell Kent?!” 

“S-Sorry!” He cried out, his foot pressing on the brake just a smidgen more now. 

“I just…saw this…” He murmured. Whatever Lois was going to say with her melodious voice died in her throat at the sight of the structure. Out here in the complete darkness of the road was this church. 

The car came to a complete stop. Both people took in the sight of the structure. It was a simple church, the kind that someone would think of when told to imagine a church. A large thing, made of wood, with a nice, fresh coat of white paint that made it feel purer than anything that might have been out here in this…void.

“...Strange…but uh…let’s keep going okay?” Clark did not note how Lois got out a little journal and scribbled down something. Instead, he continued driving down the road. 

Lois checked the map once more after a few minutes. It was their only guide to figuring out wherever this author was. Their final destination? A place circled in red at the edge of a long highway…Azarath.

But before Clark could once again ponder the name, another church appeared.

Once again both people were caught off guard by the structure, a decent sized building with a pointed rooftop, dirty windows that barely reflected the headlights, and this time, a small set of staircases that led to the main doors. The only other difference was that the building was brown. Still, it was a church, even if the atmosphere was just a tinge off of normal.

“Okay, might be something like…what do you call a bunch of churches in an area? You know it, Smallville?” She asked with a brow up

“Church chain…but that’s with multiple churches in a small area. We-” he hesitated as the car sped up past the church.

“We’ve only seen two near each other.” The topic was dropped after that, Lois looking over the map again. Clark tried to recall whether or not she had read the books by Tsarista. If she did, he wondered if she had made the same connection he had.

That the town called ‘Azarath’ was in Ms. Tsarista’s drafts for her latest book.

He was certain she knew. She was a PI after all, it wouldn’t be in line with her profession to not have information like that on hand. But before he could ponder on that again

“Okay, maybe this is a church chain…” he muttered under his breath. To their left was ANOTHER church. This one…was weirder. More rectangular in its shape, and it appeared to be more like a warehouse with the metal walls. No windows, and the front door was spray painted with some kind of black hand.

They drove past it, and passed another. Made out of stone, looked like a square with a fancy metal roofing. Flags stuck out from the different parts of the church. White, with a red cross taking up most of the space. A small statue of an ancient looking knight sat at the side of the front of the church. The words St. Dumas were etched at the bottom of it.

Then another, made of clay with a large, flat, bronze snake resting on the door.

Another, pure grey walls and no windows. A single goosebump rose up on the back of Clark’s neck at the sight of the bright announcement sign next to the building. 

THE ORDER OF KRYPTON WELCOMES ALL!

They kept driving, no words passed between Lois and Clark as the sights became uncomfortable. 

A wooden shack with half of it burned completely on one side, pristine on the other.

A greek looking church half buried in the dirt. 

Buckner and Elam (look it up in the computer)

A building with purple drapes on the windows, a large sculpture of a starfish with a big eye sitting at its top. The sign next to it read:

THE CONQUEROR SEES ALL. HE HIDES BENEATH THE LAND OF JOY OUTSIDE THE CITY OF DARKNESS. LET HIS CHILDREN BECOME ONE WITH YOU AS SALVATION ARISES FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE FORBIDDEN SEA.

It didn’t end. 

Structures poking out of the ground, some larger than before. Some with twisted forms. Wood and stone twirled around each other in different compositions that looked more like squarish sculptures and sometimes not like a building at all. Churches buried in the sand and looking as if they were sprouting out like daisies in the field. 

Tiptoe through the field of faith and pick your favorite one.

Praise your chosen God. 

Hopefully the garden wouldn't lead your prayers to the wrong one.

The two remained quiet. Whatever was out there was indeed out there. But that was it. Out there. These things were unnerving, and a blasphemy to holy grounds in general. But there was a shared expectation in the car that there would be something weirder, something darker, something worse.

Something else drudged up the assistant’s mind. Something so small and insignificant that nothing else seemed to matter at that moment.

“Why did you call me that?”

“What?” Lois mumbled, her attention captured by the outside. The car passed a small neighborhood home, something seen in a poorer community. Its entirety was in flames, and the flames glowed and danced like something alive. 

It was a good thing that neither of them could hear the sounds coming from the barn, lest they realize the crackling of flames on wood were not the only screams emanating from the structure.

“Smallville,” he said. “Why call me Smallville?”

For a moment, she just looked out the window. The void encompassed the entire world. Yet it was not the thing that they were thinking of. 

“Felt right. Don’t know why.” 

The sign to the town flew by the two. It could not have even been fully comprehended at the pace that the car was going. Yet they both knew it. 

WELCOME TO AZARATH.

======================================

Lois Lane was good at noticing things. She wouldn’t have made snooping around and asking questions her livelihood if she didn't possess that skill. This skill of hers was made better by the fact that she was normally pretty sneaky, unless her dad’s skills taught her nothing. 

As long as she could remember, things would stick out to her. Sometimes she liked this part of her. Connecting things like mysterious payments from the Cayman Islands to a judge and a recent string of robberies was predictable, but really finding the connections was a welcome challenge.

Other times she didn’t like it. Like Lois telling her best friend that her boyfriend’s “trips to the bowling alley” and finding that her friend’s sister’s “late night walks” correlated near the same time and same exact place.

So when she came to this town to find this “moneymaker” author, she took note of one thing in particular.

This case was straight out of a book. Multiple, to be exact.

It started with the darkness. For hours, there was nothing. One moment they were on the highway prepared for about three or four hours of driving. Next they were in complete darkness. Lois couldn’t remember when nigthtime came, and by the looks of the sleeping man in the bed next to her own, neither had Clark.

Then there were the churches. Being a rural area Lois figured that it was normal for a few churches to populate the surrounding grounds. The Christian faith tended to grow in places that were untouched by more moderesque society. However, looking in her journal, Lois couldn’t help but note that in total..there were close to 50 churches they witnessed. If half of them could even be considered churches…or buildings even.

The PI chose not to think about how she saw some lights in the distance at a few points during the last trek of the drive. She did not wish to think of how many bastardized buildings of faith they were fortunate enough not to see.

Then the town itself.

It looked rural. The kind that you pass by during a road trip down Route 66. Only bigger and with complicated streets, and a lot more antiquity to it. Besides the street lights and telephone poles, this town was something out of a newspaper advertisement from recent times. Promoting rural values and staying in a community. Despite not driving too long around the town due to their exhaustion, the little bit they saw off the main town road was buildings cut out from a recent textbook, all jammed together on various streets. They only saw one person, but couldn't see their face as they…kinda sulked down the sidewalk. It all gave Lois a sense of the modern day "homemaker" values she and her generation were regularly subjected to on a regular basis.

A part of that was why for as non-fiction oriented as she was, Lois did in fact enjoy how Queen Tsarista wrote her bargain bin fairytales.They didn’t focus on the modern day sludge. The books told grand stories of heroes (mostly heroines) doing their best and succeeding in life, to be brief. Classical stuff kids like, but somehow enjoyable. 

It was actually why she was at the room’s small desk at the moment. 

The room was a nice one. Walnut-wood cabinets, freshly washed windows, a bath with a shower combination. Country furnishings with a tidiness and order that reminded Lois of her own father and his military-gained habits. The beds were extremely comfortable, their sheets feeling like pure silk. They made it near irresistible to get off, as was the case with Clark when he entered the room for the first time. He mentioned something about feeling like home. 

It was cute, the way his face lit up at simple things. Just his…whole being was nice to be around. Lois didn’t tend to find people that appealing, but Clark was something else…best not to get distracted with that. (Especially as when he laid to sleep, Lois couldn't help but notice that he had some nice build on his arms…okay she would never say that out loud.)

Then, of course, there was the bed and breakfast itself. It looked like a mansion, yet they got the room for dirt cheap. Lois was not entirely sure that Clark paid, and seemed like they were given the key to begin with. She did not remember who got the key…now that she thought about it.

Lois, seeing all these strange connections, sat with a candle on the desk. Beside it was her notebook, and with it, all of the notes she took on the journey so far. There was…honestly not much. Quite honestly she couldn't recall actually writing anything. Just a few words. TSARISTA. SUN. FAITH. THE BOOK.

AZARATH.

Yeah not much. 

It was of extreme self disappointment to Lois as she could have sworn she would have written more. Her hands felt tired…despite the fact she didn’t drive. She MUST have written more than some vague words on the paper before her.

She sighed, looking closer at her near empty pages as she bit her lip habitually. Her eyes looked around for any clue she may have left herself. Maybe…maybe it was best to take some time to write about those churches…what did it all mean?

That’s when she remembered, something the old man (Alfred? Was that his name?) told her about the town. She opened the desk drawer, and in it could be considered a miracle.

The town newsletter. Every week it was updated and sent out to the town businesses for different purposes, as the butler told her as she got the key. This issue in particular would be special, he had mumbled with a knowing grin. Someone special would be writing for it this week. So Lois quickly brought out the paper, and began charting down potential leads and locations.

The candle continued to drip, its form dissolving as the light flickered ever so slightly. The PI would not get a new one. She would eventually find herself writing in the dark, yet her eyes could not have been clearer as she knew exactly what to do.

==============================================

This was a good plan, at least that’s what Clark tended to tell himself at this moment in time. Maybe because it was the only real plan he and Lois had.

She told him her idea at breakfast…which was a strange affair, but not as strange as that whole church thing. A cup of coffee held down the pages as she spoke, and Clark briefly wondered if a stain would be left behind.

”So we explore the town, but do it separately,” she said, gnawing on her croissant. Clark looked around the room they were seated in. Massive, for one, with architecture that would make any magazine reader envious. Every table, including theirs, was clothed in pure white, every chair made with hand carved oak, if memory served Clark right about wood. Not only that, but each table had a certain flower on it. Petunias, dry flowers, daffodils, alstroemeria, hydrangea. 

There was a buttercup, fully blossomed. If he looked hard enough, he could almost see a smile. But Clark knew that was silly.

”I’ll take the main businesses, you take the library and the school. Just ask around, really,” she swallowed another bite.

”Someone’s bound to know something. Plus, two people are better than one, I think we’ll find her by the day’s end.” She said with a confident smile. Goodness, she was so nice to look at with that on her face. It distracted Clark, wholeheartedly distracted him from everything beyond him. Like the emptiness of the entire dining hall. That their food was already sitting here when they arrived. That they hadn’t seen anyone this entire morning. 

That the sun was shining through the windows and was beautiful. The window covers could only cover so much of its comforting rays…

“Sure thing, Lois,” he responded. He took a bite of an apple that sat at his side, the juice overflowing and leaking down his mouth. But…by Rao did it taste good.

How hard could finding this author be?

=====================================================

The bakery was a nice place. Sat between the local park filled to the brim with flowers and the road leading to the mayor's office, the structure was made up of painted brick and concrete. The front of the building was a garden full of gnomes and gingerbread men, small and large all sticking out from the grass. Unlike the rest of the town, this building was colorful. Even more so when the PI went inside. Pastries of all kinds filled the shop and all its colorful stands and presentation tables. Pink frosted cupcakes, croissants as big as a head, macaroons of all colors, and pies.

There were so many pies in here. Lois couldn't keep count of how many there were. Out of all the pastries it was the pie that overnumbered everything, from the roasted pumpkin to the sweet smelling apple.

Too sweet, if Lois was honest.

 A massive furnace sat at the end of the shop, the counter being its only separation from the rest of the shop, as well as the rest of the kitchen. There was only one person here at the moment. Considering her attire and the pictures that hung on the walls, Lois was confident in her assumption that this was the owner.

“Uhh…Mother Mae Eye?” Lois said aloud. She wasn’t that loud, and yet the plumpish woman, who was kneading a heavy lump of dough on the counter, turned around immediately.

“Oh hello darling!” Said the baker. She ran so fast to the counter Lois could have sworn she had floated over. 

“How may I help you today?” She asked in a very grandmotherly way. Her voice was so sweet that even with overpriced treats, this old lady would still buy them.

“Yes, actually,” Lois began to pull out a picture of Ms. Tsarista from her coat pocket. 

“Do you know who-”

“Why don't you have a sample first, sweety?” Said the old lady, her eyes sparkling as she lifted a slice of pie from…well Lois wasn’t sure. She was a little taken back, but figured that buttering up this lady was the best course of action for answers. 

So Lois took the pie and, albeit hesitantly, took a bite. Mother Mae Eye smiled and adjusted her big, red, chef's hat. The slice…it was so good. There were no other words to describe the feeling that was taking a bite of this pie. The apple slices melted into her mouth as the sugar embraced her taste buds, and the crust gave the soft filling a nice crunchy end. It was one bite, but Lois was entranced. 

“You looked hungry my dear, in fact why don't you have another?” she said, lifting up another slice. Lois could smell lard emulating from its filling.

“Oh! Uh, I haven't even-” she would have said finished, but that wasn’t the truth. Lois looked down at the plate she was given but a moment ago, and the slice was gone. A quick touch of the face had her brushing off crumbs from her lips.

That slice…it was right in front of her, why not have another bite? There was no harm in-

What exactly are you here for again?

“Have you seen this lady around here?” the words spilled from Lois’s mouth before she could even comprehend it, and the picture was on the counter. 

Mother Mae Eye, once sweet and happy looking, turned…strangely happier at the photo.

“Ah! Yes I know the woman in that picture sweetie!” The baker said with a slight spring in her step. Her yellow eyes twinkled, and Lois’s stomach gurgled a little for some reason.

“You do?” Lois feigned ignorance, as she did when trying to seem meek to the person being questioned. It was a tactic that she learned when going for this job. Makes the other person get more confident with their information, maybe you can get more out of them.

“Of course! Everyone knows Ms. Tsarista, she’s the reason we’re even here!” said Mother Mae Eye joyfully.

”Wha—ya—-me-an?“ Lois said through a mouth full of pie…the grease painted the inside of her throat. In a second Lois spat out what she could onto the plate, and threw the fork to the side. Her eyes grew as wide as the plate itself. When did she-

”Chew with your mouth closed, my sweet. You're not an animal are you?” The baker said as she returned to her task of the dough. Her fat hands slammed into the dough and sugar mix, all while Lois was attempting to catch her bearings. 

“To answer your question…” 

The pie sat there, the red juice leaking out onto the counter. It didn’t smell like fruit. It didn't even look like fruit at all…

“Ms. Queen Tsarista is Azarath of course…” She said with a sweet smile. The line 

“Anything else I can help you out with dearie?”

==============================================================

And that was just one example. 

For the rest of that day, Lois Lane went around the town and asked the same question. She had a system, to act accordingly to the situation and react in an appropriate way that could help her solve the case efficiently. Walking around the town was certainly an experience. The architecture was of a small town, as Clark had told her before it looked like his hometown, Smallville. Just with more unique buildings. Even the people were interesting, that baker wasn't the only unique person here.

 Everyone was friendly. Everyone was kind. Everyone knew each other. Everyone said the same Goddamn thing to her question. 

==========================================================

Like the postal worker who was quick on his feet and always seemed to be ahead of her. West, she was pretty sure his name was. She got his attention while he was putting a letter in a mailbox shaped like a pig. He was very talkative, but kept up a pace while answering her question, him being almost a child was confusing but it was…interesting.

“Oh Ms. Tsarista? Yeah I know her. She IS Azarath after all…” he said with his quick mouth. His red hair fizzled as the wind pushed by, his teenage features glowing in the recently exposed rays of the sun.

“Ok what does that mean?” She asked, quickly avoiding a large crack in the sidewalk. He was walking really fast, which made sense with his profession. He was tall, so that was something that made her need to catch up.

He had a few grey hairs now that he was at the end of the road. When did he get…older? What-when was he that old? He was just a kid…wasn’t he just a kid?

“You’ll see soon Ms. Lane!” he said as he walked away, not bothering to look back. The sun was suddenly bright…and the mailman was gone. Completely. 

She saw him like a kid delivering the mail. He was a teenager while walking down the road. He was an adult answering a question.

In a single moment he was gone. Lois found his bag just a few feet away from her. It was filled to the brim with dust.

================================================

“Why Ms. Tsarista is Azarath of course,” answered the town veterinarian, Dr. Emile Dorian. He was a middle aged man, grey streaks in his brunette hair, and his skin had sunken close to his bones. Lois had seen worse, but this man was already unpleasant to be around, looks aside. He had insisted on answering her questions while performing surgery on a…well Lois wasn’t sure what the thing on the table was.

“And one of my finest patrons!” he exclaimed boldly as he cleaned off a bloody scalpel and placed it onto the table next to him. She noted that fact down in her mind. Direct patron to his…profession? Or maybe a provider?

“Everything you see here was provided by her gracious tutelage.” He smiled with a grin that would make a grandmother faint from its appearance, probably representing how this guy was on the inside. At least it answered one question.

Every single cage surrounding the doctor and PI was taken up by some type of animal. A dog missing an ear in one cage, a cat with blue fur and red eyes in another. Then there was a bird with three wings, a single lone bat that stood upright on the ground, Three chameleons walking over one another, and a starfish. A single, large eye stared back at Lois, fused into its skin. Unlike the others, it was in a jar. Just floating in the water.

“I never knew non-fiction could be so economic! I may need to write about my experiences myself. What do you think, Tygrus?”

Tygrus, it seemed, was the large thing on the operating table. It was big in size, thought perhaps being laid out and having some of his insides exposed made him look bigger. His fur was matted grey, and his limbs…were not entirely cat-like in how they were positioned. Had Lois been any crazier than she already felt she was, she would have mistaken that thing for a man in a cat outfit.

Tygrus made noises at the doctor’s voice. Noises that did not sound like agreements or…anything but pain really.

“Why is he awake during your surgery, doc?” Lois asked with a pained and aching throat.

“Oh, its all part of the process, don’t you worry,” he said, before grabbing a much sharper tool from his arsenal.

“I do hope to see you again, Ms. Lane. Hopefully later on…” he said, all while injecting his captive with a needle of something , causing Tygrus to moan.

Lois did not respond. She walked out of that clinic, and went on to her next person.

God, was Clark having any easier of a time?

==============================================================

“And you’re sure that she’s going to be there?” Clark asked the little one. 

“Yep!” She said with the biggest smile the country man had ever seen. He’d taken to Lois’s plan and snooped around the educational parts of the town. They were actually pretty easy to find. The elementary school was his first target, having made conversation with one of the folks standing outside of its gates. He was allowed in as the guard was apparently a BIG fan of Queen Tsarista’s books, particularly the Gargoyle of Gotham duology. 

The school was a quaint one, but was surrounded by a beautiful garden filled with the most exotic and wild flowers that he had ever seen. Clark had seen quite a few beautiful things in his life, but these flowers, with their translucent shades of color and firm stems, were something else.

It was during his little admiration of the flowers that he was surprised by a little girl giving him a flower. 

She was small, but as cheery as any child. VERY defensive around her flowers, however. After almost stepping on a small patch of succulents planted into the ground, did she threaten him with a trowel. It would have been quite had she not been aiming very precisely in what she would do.

After that little..encounter, the two got talking. She was an adventurous child for sure, and Clark really enjoyed how she spoke of nature and the beauty of the things outside. Isley, is what she had called herself, a unique name for sure. It reminded him of a name of a character from a book that Ms. Tsarista wrote, The Gardens of Ivy.

That’s when he found out this girl was a fan. Especially in regards to that book. Turns out, this little kid knew exactly where Tsarista was going to be this very evening.

“Just head to the church at…uhh…” Isley put a finger to her lips, looking up for a second. Clark remembered that same kind of look that an old friend of his made…coudln’t put his own finger on who it was actually. But the feeling was there, so perhaps it still counted. 

“Ah!” She exclaimed, her hair lifting up as she puffed up her face cheeks. 

“Tonight’s the midnight mass! She’s the scripture that Father Brown gonnas read!” 

A scripture? She must have meant one of Ms. Tsaristas books. Maybe he might have been able to find the Father she mentioned and ask about that. But a midnight mass? That’s the perfect time to talk to Ms. Tsarista.

The girl was eventually led away by a girl of her age, wearing a red dress, blonde pigtails, and weirdly enough, some clown makeup on her face. Harley, that’s what Isley called her. The new girl gave Clark a menacing glance after leading Isley away. Kinda cute, if the assistant was honest.

He was glad to leave the school when he did. The children all went inside a minute later, and all Clark saw if the inside was that it was…completely dark. The town was already strange enough, he didn’t need to see laughing kids go into a hallway of darkness. But they weren’t threatened, so maybe everything was alright.

Everything was fine. But he was not going to go inside that school. The moment the teacher opened the door to let all the children away, he smelled the strongest odors of ash and daisy pollen he had ever smelt before. And he grew up on a farm, so yeah.

As he walked down the mossy concrete sidewalks, the assistant thought about everything he had encountered in the last day or so. Every single strange story. Every strange conversation, every person he had met, and everything unexplainable sightings had popped out to him.

Honestly this whole thing felt more and more like a sort of practical joke made up by Mr. Lord and the others. After all, this town was mentioned in the drafts of Ms. Tsarista’s newest story, hence the whole-

….the whole search.

Clark had a theory pop up in his head at this time. It felt…ridiculous. Very ridiculous. But at the same time, something felt just…right about what he was thinking. Maybe Lois would feel the same, if he found her he would ask…but for now he knew where to go. Just to clear off his hunch. Just to make sure this whole…place wasn’t getting to him.

He continued his walk, finding a street sign that pointed towards different locations around the town. Besides the clinic, the bakery, and the farm, there wasn’t much. Except, thankfully, the place he was looking for, the library.

After avoiding a yellow car that sped right past him (which Clark would have sworn looked like a cab…this town wasn’t on the map) he made his way towards the town library. The building itself was big, bigger than most buildings in this town. It had a slight…ancient architecture look to it, columns supported its front, and looked to be made up of stone. At least there were no stairs, just a flat entrance.

He didn’t spend much time looking around the details of the place. He just knew that there was going to be something in here…he just knew it. 

After a bit of browsing the rows upon rows of books that lined the very walls of this place, the assistant eventually found the literature he was looking for on the second floor.

Tales and Morals: A Collection by Queen Tsarista, the Queen of Fables.

One of the only collections Ms. Tsarista had consented to have of her works. She was adamant about each story having their separate release, but was not against this particular batch being a collected release. Clark recalled the amount of conversations that the author and his boss had in the office. Sometimes yelling. The author was…certainly a character.

Clark placed the book onto the nearby table and flipped on a small lamp. The floor was dimly lit, a very strange case for a public library. But most things in this town were not making any sense, so this made just as much sense as everything else.

The book was nicely made, a very textured cover surrounded its exterior, with a neutral color scheme. Clark, knowing the book’s format, turned to a page. He didn’t know why he turned to this particular page, but he needed to confirm something that hit him earlier on the street. He could very well just be silly.

PAGE 52

THE SONGS OF THE FOREST

‘-and when the two children continued into the forest, they could hear music. Beautiful music, the kind that their parents would sing on the solstice. That they themselves would make with the instruments at school. The church in town played these beautiful notes all the time.

The children did not know why the forest sang such melodious tunes. A forest cannot sing, and they are far from the town. The church was not here, it could not be.

Yet, as they reached a section of the woods, they found something that shook them to their core. Their church, the church in which they prayed to their God every sabbath, stood proud in the light that the trees allowed into their sanctuary. The children were so grateful, oh so very happy, was this not fate to be in a place of safety?

But alas, with the eyes of the children becoming discerning, so did the truth. This was not their church, but it looked similar. Almost as imperfect a copy as a twin would be to their sibling. The music was still playing, but not from this mockery of their worship.

The children ran from this false idol and made their way to the trail once more. Once more, another mockery of faith greeted them. Like the pigs in the north, this house was created out of wood and sticks-’

Clark kept reading, and just as he suspected, the book pages followed exactly what he and Lois had encountered. Churches, fake buildings, and the void…all of it was in this story. 

‘Hmm…just one thing though, maybe not everything…’ he briefly thought, not daring to say his ideas aloud. It seemed like everyone could hear everything sometimes…it was the strangest thing…

He flipped to another page, the choice completely random. The light next to him flickered for a moment, and the noise downstairs had begun to quiet down. He, however, was more so focused on what page he had ended up on.

PAGE 66

THE GARDENS OF IVY

‘For there was nothing but IVY within the entire garden. Therefore, the garden was untouchable by those who did not wish to feel its sting on their bare skin. But one child, a girl named Isley, was willing to change that. She was a young girl with deep red hair. Her skin was fair, and her eyes were the deepest shade of green that one had ever seen-’

“Another one, that girl from earlier…” he murmured to himself. The words left his lips before he could remember the restraint he had imposed onto himself. He flipped to later on in the story.

‘-her friend Harleen would not let got of her hand. Isley was scared, this was not her friend anymore was it? 

“Let’s go back to our home!” she yelled. Harleen, despite being against Isley’s wishes, dragged the girl with her into a small place that Isley did not recognize, the ivy she had come to know as of late was growing on its walls. The door opened for both of the girls. The heavy smell of ash and daisy pollen filled the air was the dark insides of the structure revealed itself to the-’ 

Clark nearly slammed the book tight when he read that last part.
This had to be a joke right? Nothing…this wasn’t right. Yet there was the evidence. Several coincidences all written in an okay writing format right in front of his eyes. He bit his nails just a bit, enough to get a little bit off the top. It was a habit for things like these. 

Maybe this really was just stress getting to him. But, he couldn’t end this here…not if he wanted to prove to himself that he was still sane.

So he turned again to a random page. The story here was ‘Hansel and Gretel,’ a story of two children looking for something (home maybe? The collection was a bit damaged, so maybe some details were hidden) and finding themselves in a house made of candy, ruled by a witch. A witch known as Mother Mae Eye. Clark looked to the side for a moment, he had seen a bakery earlier that day, the same strange name on its side. Coincidence? 

Maybe Ms. Tsarista grew up here in Azarath, and used details to create her most popular stories. That could explain the random details. But that explanation did not sit right with him. Something else was here…what was he looking for. Another random page

This time it was for something he knew he didn't do. A veterinarian went crazy in the story, and no one was helping him grieve over his cat, Tigris. So he took a cat he found and raised it as his own, the cat biting him at the end and gin g the doctor a disease.

Another page, another problem he didn’t recognize. The downstairs was completely quiet. The desk lamp flickering every once in a while.

As Clark kept reading, he could feel the layers of his mind slowly but surely fall back. If Lois had realized it before he did, where was she then? Did she encounter a mailman that died as soon as he appeared? A cat thing named Tygrus? Even Alfred, that strange old man at the hotel…his name came up in the Gargoyles story! Was this all just some series of coincidences? Nothing was making any real sense…nothing at all! 

Was this…all some sort of trick? A mass marketing promotion thing that Lois was trying to tell him earlier? Clark rubbed his temples, this was just madness. This thought was madness, it had to be coincidental…but that didn’t explain anything. This town…it almost seemed like it was trying to lie to the both of them, showing them all these written instances and somehow making them real. But that should be ridiculous…a town shouldn’t be able to do this. Yet again, this town was not on the map, and everyone here accepted the strange things. 

Okay, maybe…maybe he just needed some air. He got up from his seat, stretching his back out before looking around. 

Everything was silent now.

The lights were dimmed, and not a sound could be heard. Clark went to the railing that separated the two floors and looked down. There was no one here. The entire floor was completely empty. Even the door that led to the outside was jammed open, it hung on its hinges. How had Clark not heard that? He went to the window, and saw that the sun was gone now. 

The same void that greeted him and Lois was all that was out there…except the lights from one building in the distance…a church. Larger than all the others he had seen. People were surrounding it, loads of them. It honestly looked like the entire town was going inside. 

Clark had no idea what to do here. Everything made no sense and yet as he looked at the church, and back to the book, he felt a pull that he had never felt before. Yes…that girl did say that Tsarista would be there.

Yeah…he needed to go there. Find Lois first, then go to the church.

But as he ran down the stairs towards the exit…a strange tingle rose up his spine.

Why did this feel like an ending?

===========================================================

“I’m telling you Lois, it's all connected!” Clark exclaimed with a more silent tone than he usually had. Lois, trying her best to keep herself grounded, was hoping that Clark’s excitement wasn’t influenced entirely in what she told him about her…discoveries.

“I went to the library and checked out Tsarista’s books. Everything we did-” he paused to catch his breath and took a quick look around. The street was empty. 

“...it was all written down, things that we saw, and all those people and places! Even that clinic you told me about!” That last part was a little louder, and Lois grabbed his hand by reflex. She gave him a look that said SHHHH with a finger to her lips.

He bent down a bit and muttered an apology, gently squeezing her hand in response. Lois chose to ignore that enjoyable gesture and kept walking with Clark to the church. 

Interestingly enough, neither of them had actually seen the church in their time spent in this town. They hadn’t even driven near it when they arrived, the drive had sucked their energy dry. But this church…THIS church…it did not feel right whatsoever. 

It was a larger building compared to the others, but not large enough that it would be the most obvious thing to point out. That acknowledgement would probably have been the various flowers planted all around the town. It had a strange design to it, almost like two boxes stacked onto each other, one becoming angled at the top. It had an asian architecture feeling to it, with plan walls and stairs connected to the walls rather than on the ground. Small columns with pointed bulbous sculptures surrounded the architecture, around five of them or so. There were many flowers growing around its exterior, some were reaching to the windows by crawling up the walls! Half of them neither Clark nor Lois could recognize. 

“This place doesn’t feel right Lois…” Clark muttered, squeezing Lois’s hand even more with a small rub of his thumb near her knuckle. 

‘Okay this is going in a weird direction, lets change that-’ Lois quickly thought before pulling her hand away from his (slowly, he had a very nice, warm grip). 

There were a few stragglers going into the building, Lois recognized one of the stragglers, the baker from earlier, Mae Eye.

Lois could still taste the meat from earlier, but she’d rather not think about that. 

It was probably not the best idea, nor the smartest, but the two people…followed the stragglers. Lois knew why, to an extent. After what Clark told her…well it wasn’t like they had a choice. Still, she couldn't quite believe that their thoughts and actions were all premeditated by this author…but this town was still really weird, and the sooner this case was done with, the better.

The stragglers did not notice the two people coming behind them. The staircase leading to the entrance was long, but it felt like a few steps was all it took for the two to reach the open door. They stood there for a moment, just staring into where all those other people were standing. It was dark, the hall. Not a thing could be seen. But at the same time…they both knew there was an answer in there, an answer in which everything would be revealed. Even if they would never understand the true depths of what this whole case was.

They looked at each other, these two strangers. Or were they? Was this whole thing, this whole strange case, was it really all reality? Or was it written like Clark truly thought it was?

They wouldn't know. Even all this…this “truth” wouldn’t prove everything they were hoping to figure out. Regardless, they both turned to the darkness, to the nothingness that everyone had given into.

And they both

Stepped

In

Side

=================================================

“And we shall all be welcome into the Halls of Azarath, AMEN!” every voice in the cathedral yelled out as they bowed their heads. Each towngoer, each shop owner, each baker, each child, they all sat in the wooden pew chairs. Their hands were clasped together, tightly wound as if they were to let go…then they would be gone. Gone without their true God. Gone without their Hope. Not the false idols that sat outside.

They believed in all those false Gods. Every single building that sat outside of this town…it was a mockery of what true faith was. So, when their God brought them his angel, of course they welcomed her with open arms.

Even if she did not accept what they wanted from her. Even if they had to…change her for the betterment of their society. After the chant, every person turned their eyes up towards the stage where the priest stood with the scripture.

Father Brown stood there, the scripture in front of him. Doing what was about to happen was never easy…but it needed to be done. It always needed to be done. Finally, there would be relief from all this torment…finally there would be release.

Renewal.

Of course, Clark Kent and Lois Lane did not know any of this, except for the slight tingling in the back of their minds that told them something was going to happen. Or that they should leave as soon as possible. Still, there they sat in the very back of the seats. It didn’t feel right to try to leave now, not when the answer was…probably in their grasps. 

Their eyes did not leave the stage as the Father looked up to the crowd.

“Now that the songs have been sung, the pages have been memorized, and the phrases have been said, we can now move forward with the main event…as the moon finally reaches its peak…we shall greet our God in full…”

The scripture sat in front of him, a piece of cloth covered it. Father Brown, old in his age, was able to grab the scripture and lift it to the rest of the crowd. They all looked up, Clark and Lois included, to witness what it was. As the cloth fell from its face-

“What the-” Clark muttered. Lois would have said the same thing, but it felt like her mouth was sown shut at the sight of the “scripture.”

The moonlight shone through the windows of the cathedral. Its bright and comforting light lit up every part of the stage, Father Brown included. Lois would have sworn that in the bright and near perfect light…Father Brown looked older than any man she had ever seen. But that wasn’t the concerning part.

The “scripture,” as it was called, was beautifully made. Golden outlines surrounded its leather covering, and small gems were embezzled in various places of it. On its front cover, facing directly towards the moonlight-

…was a face. It was far, but the two people sitting ALL the way in the back could see the face. Neither could say a word as its entire being was shone to the crowd of silent believers. The two did not speak a word, and as such, they became one with the crowd in the unlit pews. They did not choose to pay attention to how the mouth of the book was breathing.

“Oh Queen Tsarista, writer of our world!” Father Brown exclaimed. He shook the scripture with every word strengthening the weaker bones in his body.

“What do you have to show us? What will finally relieve us of this pain of living? WHAT IS YOUR MAGNUM OPUS!?” he yelled out with the fire of a younger man now lost to time. 

Once again, all was quiet. It was here that Clark and Lois had time to think. Think about all of this. As strange and honestly scary as this all was…was it really that bad? Compared to what else was out there, were any of these folks bad people? Were they just strange because of how they were all the way off the actual beaten path? This clearly wasn’t a promotional stunt, this was…WAY too much for Mr. Lord to finance. Clark knew his boss well enough, and Lois figured that the man was just wanting them to bring this author back…if the author was still around. Neither knew why but that book kinda looked like it had…her face…

…oh God (which one?) is that book actually her? Is that like…is she the “scripture?” Is that what they meant by “she is Azarath?”

Oh course, neither Clark nor Lois could truly understand what was going on in this case. They were just observers now, but this story was nearly complete. All it needed was a finale that would make everything tie in together or just end it in some kind of fashion. 

Father Brown would come to understand this. As the moonlight reflected onto the gems in the book, the stones themselves began to glow in such a way that was…mesmerizing to say the least. As the colorful lights bounced off the walls of the cathedral…every single person got up, and raised their hands up like tiny daggers pointed towards heaven.

They all knew salvation did not exist up there. Nor below.

Every light that shone around, that hit the faces of everyone, that made the void just a bit brighter, it spoke of what this place was. Of what Azarath was. Was it not a beautiful place? Someone out there would think so, someone making all of this happen. Or maybe that’s what the lights wanted you to think. Perhaps they themselves were written to say these kinds of ideas to you, to them. To make everyone become one with the light.

As quickly as they came, the lights were gone. Retreated back into their vessels. The book’s hatch popped open, and it opened to face Father Brown straight on. He looked into it, saw the words that no one else could see. Saw the truth of the magnum opus.

Of the halls of Azarath.

And he smiled. All while his flesh began to peel off of his face.

Lois and Clark stepped back in shock, the priest reacted not to the pain, simply reading to himself as his flesh peeled off slowly. From his sunken cheekbones to his bony fingers, everything began to dissolve. He only smiled as his blood painted the stage, dripping onto the floor below. But his flesh and bones…the father’s entire being began to float up to the air…and went towards the book. The book, the scripture, which began to float from the father’s hands and glow an unnatural light. 

As the rest of his body tore itself apart, as his organs fell to the floor and flew towards the glowing, open book…he spoke a few last words…so silent that Clark and Lois would have sworn he said nothing at all.

“And so…how the fable ends in Azarath…” before his entire formed was taken and absorbed into the book. Nothing was said, Clark could only feel Lois’s hand suddenly take his, squeezing it tight. 

“C-Clark-”

“Yeah.” he quickly responded. He turned, his eyes as shaky and unfocused as hers.

“Lets get out of here.”

The two quickly yet quietly made their way out of their seats. They made sure that the rest of the people did not see them walk. Everyone was distracted by the floating book, all chanting while they did so. One of the citizens was even going towards it. Perhaps they both would have made it, had not one of them stepped too far backwards and onto a very sensitive wood board that made a large CCREEAKKK.

All eyes turned to them. The chanting ended. Clark and Lois remained silent. They did not know what to do here…what could they do?

“Fresh meat…yes…” Mother Mae Eye’s voice whispered, the sound echoing onto the cathedral walls. 

The book looked directly at them, the face of Queen Tsarista for sure plastered onto it.

The two people RAN.

Their feet hit the floors faster than anything else they could imagine. They rushed towards the hall, making a quick right turn as they reached the hall. The sounds of millions of feet coming after them was obvious, and they ran faster just at the acknowledgement of it.

The windows cut out of the walls lit their path as the moon shone its light. The two ran and ran and ran, hand in hand, as they tried to look for the exit. But did they ever truly remember how they got here? How did they get to their seats? 

When did they even sit down?

None of the questions could be answered. They made a left, the scruffing of their shoes the only sounds that could be heard as they escaped from these people. From this damn town. From the strange hallways too.

The windows whirled into shapes as they ran past them. Floors were missing pieces, causing them to trip at times. Even the lights from the windows began to turn against them, flowing against the walls in patterns that the assistant and PI would never be able to understand. But they ran regardless. There was nothing left for them here, only the chance to get away…from all of this. 

Yet their steps felt ever slower as they kept going towards..somewhere.

But there was nowhere to go…or was there? They reached the door, an EXIT illuminated above it. Clark and Lois wasted no time in rushing towards the door and ramming into it. They both onto each other, letting out multiple sounds of discomfort as they did so.

 As they did, the void once again greeted them. The town was…gone now. Just darkness. Just void. Emptiness. Not even a single sound could be heard.

Clark and Lois said nothing…or were they saying something? Were their mouths moving and they didn’t know it? Were what they were seeing any different than what had come before? What did that mean?

What did any of this mean…at all?

Lois briefly wondered if maybe Clark was completely right. If this was all just something that was written down…written in that book. That damn book by that damn author. Already she had regretted taking the job…now she wished she never got out of her own bed.

Clark on the other hand was thinking a lot about the situation they found themselves in. There was nothing. No where to go, and no way to cross. If only he could fly…they could get out of here…

…If he could fly.

This was all Tsarista’s story. Every single one of those books had her characters pull something out of thin air to help them. The kids in the forest went to the river and made a boat out of their own prayers, the gardens of Ivy grew once the plants realized they could cry out their woes to the sun, and the clinic vet from the other story brought his cat back to life using some kind of magical serum…funny ideas she probably came up with on the spot.

 It was a silly thought…but as the sounds of multiple shoes could be heard rustling through the hallways, Clark had the idea that it was the only option that was left. Besides giving into all this, of course. 

“Clark…” Lois muttered. Clark turned to her. Unlike every other time he had been with her, he could see every bead of sweat that was trickling down her forehead. Every vein in her head was bulging right now. Her eyes were unfocused and her form was shivering…just a little bit. She was good at hiding her emotions, but not with her voice.

“Lois…” he cleared his throat. The footsteps were getting closer…and so were the voices. Yelling at them that they were meant to join them. To be a part of the creator and everything she wrote. Everything she created. 

“I have an idea,” he began, his hesitance clear but his confidence higher. 

“Its ridiculous, well you’d call it that for sure but…I think I can get us out of here, its just an idea though…”

“Well, you figured things out faster,” Lois interrupted. Clark could see her regular determination return to her eyes within a second. It was really weird how fast she could switch her mindsets, but it was interesting to see regardless.

“Do what you have to Smallville,” she said, the voices getting closer. She gave him a look of trust, one that he had not seen since the beginning of their journey together. 

The shoes could be heard rustling just beyond the doorway. Clark, with no hesitancy left in his mind, enacted his plan. He grabbed Lois, bringing her close. He could hear an EEP come out from her as he brought her close but he needed to be sure this would work. He ran, holding Lois close, all the way to the edge of the stairs. The platform had gotten longer since they last saw it, causing Clark to run with his passenger even farther.

“CLARK!” Lois yelled, a bit muffled from her face being pressed a bit into his coat.

“WHAT ARE YOU-” but he wasn’t listening. He was running. Running to the edge where the void met the platform. In the distance…he didn't know how or why…but he swore that he saw something beyond the void. A tiny sliver of light. A spark if you will.

That was all he needed to see to know his plan had a chance.

The voices and footsteps were all that could be heard as the entire town burst out from the cathedral entrance. Neither looked back, but considering what they saw earlier, they could imagine what the horrific thing running after them looked like, considering most of the noises were that of stretching flesh and twisting bones.

Clark upped his pace. He saw the light, the single light at the end of this tunnel. Not an entry into a place of madness like the tunnel from the city had been, but a way out. The way every fairytale and story of the same caliber ended. 

The same way it ended as his feet reached the edge of the platform leading to the void.

A leap of faith. Quite literally in his case, as he 

Lept

From 

The 

Edge 

Into 

The 

Void—-----------

================================================

“And they flew into the light and made it back home somehow. The End.”

The little demon girl closed the book at last. The jack-o-lantern’s light had dimmed greatly since she started, but that was to be expected. With a snap of her fingers she sparked the flame once again. She used her magic to float it over to her nightstand. 

This was…fun…to her. At least a little bit. It didn’t come out exactly as she had wanted it, maybe she should have done more with the alien from Metropolis. But having that nasty farmer she found in Gotham be skinned alive by a magic book was pretty funny. She briefly wondered how distraught her new family would be if they found out she thought these kinds of things. But she yawned and stretched out her back, causing the thought to be pushed aside. Including the thought about her old home being the mysterious town that that crazy lady she stole from prison ran off to.

She was not a good author, the crazy lady. But she was obsessed with fairytales, so the little demon girl had taken her and put her in this little practice for fun and turned her into a book. It was funny…maybe.

With that, the demon girl got under her covers, snuggled into her bed, and allowed the red light of her forehead gem to silence itself. 

‘That was a good story, little Raven,’ the gem whispered to her. The girl sighed, she always forgot there was an audience with her most of the time. It always used her name instead of what she was, which made her feel weird. But she always felt weird, it was normal to her.

“Eh…” she waved off as she shut her eyes.

“It could’ve been better.”

With one last look to the jack o lantern that lit her room with its toothy and mischievously carved grin, the girl said…

“Happy Halloween…”

=============================================================

END