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They say: before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
Desscaras only digs one. She gathers every twisted fragment, and tucks her little brother into bed, and lays him to rest, but she only digs the one. That's alright. Majiks won't leave any bodies to bury, so its alright. She will only need the one.
Still, one grave is an awfully lonely thing. No matter how adorned, no matter how well loved. A solitary headstone rests in the clearing, and one there shall remain.
Is it selfish to leave just one? Hundreds of others in the village, and Desscaras does not venture further. Whether she can't bear to or else wise she doesn't feel fit to dwell on. Eternally frozen, they remain.
(If Desscaras belongs anywhere, she knows it's there. Not buried, not resting. Immortalized in warp and ruin for eternity. When she swallows the blood in her mouth and picks up her sword for the hundredth time, she considers the eternity she'll earn regardless of her end.)
A few years go by, and Desscaras doesn't dig that second grave. A waste of time, when she could be getting stronger, training, becoming greater than she was before.
When her body eventually falls, it won't matter where it lands. After that, it is no longer Desscaras' problem. Her only regret is allowing Libro to fall lonely, without her beside him. But it won't be the first time she's failed him this way. Besides, if she does this right, there won't be anything left behind to bury.
Isn't she lucky?
When Desscaras first hears about the prophecy, about the light that can challenge the World Hater, she thinks it's a beautiful thing. The abyss is dark and infinite but that shining guiding star lights up before her, on the path those tiny hands had pushed her upon. Acquire the Uroro Majik. See, it'd all been building to this.
Become the strongest witch. It really is like a fable, like the stories she'd heard once. Eroded memories of fairytales all fade to ruin under the cacophony of more than thirty Majiks chattering in her mind.
Isn't that wonderful? There's no need to dig a second grave.
When the time finally comes to acquire it, Desscaras feels closer to home than she has in a over a decade. She can taste the stars on the tip of her tongue.
And then, there was Ichi.
Ichi throws a wrench in things. Actually, that's an understatement. This brat appears and then just messes everything all up. Testament to her composure and grace as the worlds greatest that Desscaras resists the urge to toss him in a lake.
It's the worst possible outcome. Some random kid, some boy no less! Out from nowhere with no concept of Majiks and way too trigger happy and a grin too wide for his face just like Libro. It turns Desscaras' stomach inside out.
Fifteen years of solitude, barring Togeice's occasional exchanges, and it takes all of five days for Desscaras to get hopelessly irreparably attached. It'll be the death of her, she knows it by the time they crash land through the association's gate.
For a moment, it seems like there's a way of normalcy, or something like it considering how wild the whole situation is. Her own little team to command is neat, and Ichi is… Weird and dumb, but he's capable. He can do things only he can. If that makes her think of what Libro could've done, Desscaras bites the thought in half and swallows it.
Then Hoitaka. And the knowledge that no matter what she does, no matter how strong she's become, there is always the looming threat of warp and ruin. That all will be taken from her at any moment. Because Majiks are unfair, and fickle and— and just fucking awful. God.
It's funny, right? Here she is, a goddess in the eyes of her eleven year old self. Overwhelming power, and as she stands face to face with the creature who stole everything from her, she doesn't cry. Doesn't wail. She slams into them with the full brunt of her magic, and she does well, she does. They still retreat, but of course they do. Cowards and fickle creatures and all. And when she's sees the warp crawl it's way up Ichi's face— sees the bones growing outwards, the skin twisted into coral— she does not shed one tear. She doesn't yell. She heals him and bubbles him and at the end of the day everyone's fine.
Ichi gets healed up by the medical team in record time. They lay him to sleep off the rest of his magic drain in a spare room, and it's all. Fine. It's fine.
That first night, after everyone's gone to sleep and the lights in the hall are dimmed to a soft red, Desscaras wanders back to her room. When her stomach turns, she grips onto the wall to keep herself from making a mess of the pristine carpet. Her lungs are robbed of breath, limbs shaken and unsteady. Desscaras bites down on her tongue hard enough to taste the blood, straightens up, and continues as if nothing had happened.
In a second chance at the worst day of her life, Desscaras does everything right. And she still has nothing to show for it.
Except, that's not really true. Because now, there's Ichi. There's still Ichi.
And she'd known it, from the moment he'd smiled at her on Kumugi's stupid broken bike. She'd known there was no saving it. But it's still then. Under the nonsensical circus tent, with the gratingly chipper voice of Jikshirone ringing in her ears. When he grins with ambition at the prospect of certain destruction, and her protests die in her throat. She knows it in the pit of her stomach. It's far too late for her. And she cannot survive to lose another.
So Desscaras does what she's always done. Grits her teeth, and digs in her heels, and commits herself to the task ahead wholeheartedly. It's the only way she knows how to be.
With strong, determined strokes, Desscaras signs her name, and the shovel strikes dirt.
Afterwards, after the sea, Desscaras makes the long trek back up to Polaris mountain. The paths are overgrown, who else but her visits now? Only her steps are carved, it's the worn tread of her heels, of her shape, and no more.
Part of her won't believe it until she sees it. But no. The soil still seems fresh, overturned, worms and bugs crawling throughout the piles. The stone is toppled over. The carvings, the name she'd so painstakingly etched into it-- all gone. As if it had never been done at all.
It's just a hole. A hole and a rock and some dirt.
But see, that's alright. Before you start a journey of revenge, you should dig two graves. One for your enemy, one for yourself.
Majiks don't leave graves, so there's really no need. Now, anything left of Libro sleeps sunken at the bottom of the sea. So there's nothing worthwhile left to bury either.
Desscaras fishes the dimensional bag out of her pocket, and from that produces a shovel.And she pushes the rock back, and she starts to dig again.
In comparison to ten thousand deaths, it's as easy as blowing out a candle.
By evening, her work is finished.
Two empty graves lay side by side.
And Desscaras knows, alright. She knows they'll remain forever empty. That the chances of there being anything left are slim, that even if there was Ichi probably wouldn't want to wind up here anyway, and maybe if there were remains they'd take him back to Druid Mountain, but she's not really sure what he wants because she hasn't asked, but the thought of doing so makes her want to throw herself into one of the awaiting holes and just be done with it already.
But one grave is a terribly lonely thing. It's the one thing she can give. The certainty that no matter what, neither of them will ever be all alone again.
Tucking the shovel away, with no further ado, Desscaras heads back down the mountain, back through the forest, back home. Behind her, the graves wait, patiently, for the day they'll both be filled.