Chapter Text
It had been two weeks since he had killed 4C. He hadn’t meant to. It was an accident. He swears on his life that it was an accident. There was part of him that wasn’t sure it had been real, but he had watched the colour begin to drain from 4C. A slime’s colour drained away like a slowing heartbeat. That was the only way to tell they were dead. The dragon wanted the spell that was preventing true death to bring him back. But it hadn’t. It was real. 4C was dead. It was his fault. He just didn’t want to believe it. The mangled mess from what remained of the left side of 4C’s head was going to be burned into his mind for eternity. He hadn’t meant to do this. It was an impulsive decision. It was an accident. It was an accident… it was an accident… he swears it was…
No one fully believed him. Nominal couldn’t blame them. His guilt was beginning to convince him that it wasn’t. His brother’s blood was on his hands. Despite having washed it off his armour and the morningstar, he could still see it. Nominal could still see it staining the sand too. The dragon had sat there after it happened, cradling and sobbing over 4C’s body for an entire night before Graecie and Mae had found them the following morning. It had been almost impossible for Graecie to pull him away as the rest gathered at the beach to make sure they were okay. 4C’s body was almost entirely grey by then.
Graecie was playing the part of someone giving him reassurance, but there was something off in her tone. Mae had screamed at him. Eloise simply turned and left without saying a word. Shandrea had stood silently off to the side, horror etched into every inch of her face that it could. Nominal saw Owain’s hand go to his sword the second he learned Nominal had been the cause of 4C’s death. He couldn’t blame the lion. The king seemed hesitant about something as he consoled Nominal. The dragon wasn’t sure if Scott was pretending to care or if it was real. And Katie… he didn’t even want to think about what Katie had said to him when she found out.
It was playing in his mind over and over again: the morningstar colliding with his brother’s head, realising the colour was draining from the slime, holding his body in the dead of night, Graecie prying him off, the harsh words and looks he received. The dragon was standing on the beach where they had sent off 4C’s body again, letting the funeral replay in his head. Slimes sent their dead down rivers or out to sea on rafts. It had been one of the few things 4C had still talked about from the Swamps. Nominal had stood in the same spot every evening for the last week, just watching for the smallest, impossible chance that 4C would row his raft back to the beach.
The sun was setting on the horizon, casting pinks and oranges onto the surface of the water. It only marked another day of the reality that 4C was gone. The crown on his head glinted in the fading light. It was too heavy. Nominal had only taken the crown from Scott because he wanted to make amends for what he’d done. He thought this might have been the way to do it, but he hadn’t done anything but wallow in his regret. He didn’t know what he could do.
It didn’t help that someone kept leaving letters in the well well well or the blacksmith, reminding him this was his fault. Nominal was actually finding them everywhere he went. Nailed to a door, conveniently shoved between books he pulled from a shelf, or beneath a crafting table he picked up. Something had even been painted across one of the walls in a random cave he entered in red letters. Just everywhere. The dragon wasn’t sure who was doing it. He didn’t recognise the handwriting. But it was always the same thing:
“Your fault.”
“Are you sorry?”
“You did this.”
The most recent one he had found in his pocket. Nominal didn’t know how it had gotten there. He had been alone all day, and it hadn’t been there a minute before. When he found it, the eyes returned. There were eyes that he could feel watching him. Nominal never caught who was watching him. He wasn’t fully sure if the feeling was real or in his head. They were just there constantly. The feeling was cold and jagged. The eyes were full of hostility. There was no doubt about it. Whoever it was wasn’t from Red or Blue; that much he had figured out.
The eyes were still staring and had been for the last couple of hours he had been standing on the beach. He could feel it like shards of ice being buried into his back. Nominal was doing his best to ignore it. The feeling would leave when he did, then return at some point later. A whistle echoed down from the treeline. A single, sharp note that lasted no more than two seconds. He turned his gaze to the sound. That wasn’t unusual. The whistling had started at the same time as the notes and the feeling of eyes. Nominal wished he could catch who was doing it. They were always gone by the time he reached where he had heard the sound, even if he flew. This time he didn’t chase it, only sighed before turning back to look at the sea.
He just wanted 4C back. He wanted to tell him at the very least that he was sorry. He just wanted to see that raft crest the horizon. He wanted to go back to the blacksmith and see the rogue sitting next to the door, waiting for him to get home so they could hang out. Or maybe down to his little cottage, and the slime would be hiding down there, away from the people because being social was too much. Tears were brimming in his eyes again.
The dragon turned away from the sea before he could begin crying.
Nominal lifted himself up into the air. The whistling was gone now. He hated everything about this. He needed to let go of the thought that his brother was coming back. He knew that. Was it bad that he didn’t want to? Probably… It probably was. He saw what he had done. He knew that 4C wasn’t coming back. Every logical part of him knew that his brother wasn’t coming back, but there was still some naive part of him that did not want to believe it. He didn’t want to be naive anymore, but he couldn’t help it.
Nominal landed next to the well well well. He climbed over the short wall and took hold of the rope ladder down. The small pond below shimmered in the light of the glowberries, and small ripples followed the rope touching the surface. His boots met a lilypad at the base of the ladder before hopping to another and then onto the stone floor of the small cave. “Are you sorry?” was still painted on the wall. He hadn’t been able to remove all of the paint. If you squinted, you could still read it. The dragon opened the door of his cottage, ignoring the new piece of paper nailed to it. He tossed the crown and a couple of things from his pockets out onto the table before hanging his sword and morningstar up on stands mounted to the wall.
He moved into his bedroom, resisting the urge to collapse onto his bed only because he was still wearing his armour. The dragon was exhausted. He felt like he hadn’t slept in over a century. But he also hadn’t been able to sleep in days. When was the last time he really slept? Five, six days ago? He could close his eyes and pretend, but it’d only result in his mind putting him back on that beach two weeks ago. Sleep was hard to achieve. He still tried anyway. His armour was placed onto an armour stand in the corner of his room. It wasn’t late, but he still got into bed regardless. His eyes traced over the moss peeking through cracks in his ceiling.
There was blood on the beach again. It coated the sand and the weapon in his hands. The dragon forced his eyes open, trying to disspell the thought, trying to ignore it only for the sake of a little sleep. The whistling was outside the cottage. It had never gone down the well well well. It was always above ground. He sat up, looking out the window. He couldn’t see anything from where he was. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms before putting his glasses back on.
Nominal wanted to know what the whistling was. His curiosity was getting the better of him, and it was driving him crazy. There was a chance it wasn’t even real. No one else had claimed hearing it. He reasoned that if he went to check and discovered it wasn’t real, then it would stop tormenting him. The dragon pulled his boots on and moved to open the front door of his cottage. He went to step out onto the porch, but he nudged something. A walkie-talkie was sitting on his doorstep. It was very crudely made from scrap parts. He had never really seen one before. That kind of technology wasn’t available in the rural area that Blue and Red were in, but he knew they existed. A small piece of paper sat folded beneath it.
It read in that same scratchy script, “Press the side button to use.”
Nominal pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Why did you do it?” echoed back in a voice that he swore was dead.
“4C…?” he muttered. It couldn’t be real. There was no way that this was real.
“Why did you do it?” the voice repeated. The voice didn’t entirely stay the same. Other voices would cut through it. This couldn’t be real. It had to be someone, or something, with the ability to copy voices. This was some sick prank. It had to be…
“You’re not 4C,” the dragon returned harshly, hoping his tone would be enough to dissuade whoever was doing this from continuing.
“Why did you do it?” the voice said again. It sounded mostly like 4C, but there was a cut of Katie’s voice, then Graecie’s.
Nominal looked at the device in his hand. It wasn’t even worth it to reply. He shouldn’t entertain this. This was someone screwing with him. His own mind was giving him enough guilt as it was. Not forgetting to mention the looks that everyone else was giving him. The dragon didn’t need more of this. He thought about smashing it onto the ground. It wouldn’t be hard to break with a little force—
The walkie crackled, “Don’t break it.”
What?
“I see you thinking about it. Don’t break it.”
His eyes darted across the space in front of the cottage. There was no one in the cave that he could see. There was no one there. There were only two places he couldn’t see: behind the cottage and the ladder down. Nominal reached for the closest weapon to him. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had enough going on in his own head and from everyone else that he didn’t need someone tormenting him.
Nominal found his sword, leaving the walkie on the table.
The voice crackled through it as he stepped out the door. “Why do you have a sword?”
He turned. His heart was beating in his ears. He pulled his wings in close.
“Are you planning on hurting someone again?” the voice asked in the tone of a curious child.
“What do you want from me?!” Nominal screamed into the emptiness of the cave.
“Turn around,” it whispered into his ear.
Nominal swung his sword with as much might as he could muster before his eyes were even focused on the space behind him. He didn’t want to take chances. The sword only made purchase with the wooden floor. The dragon’s eyes snapped around the main room. He saw nothing but wisps of dissipating smoke. There was nothing there… There was nothing there... THERE WAS NOTHING FUCKING THERE.
It was getting hard to breathe. The comforting closeness of the underground was beginning to fill his lungs with suffocating, earthy air. He needed to get out of the well well well. There was only one way in and one way out, and he was not about to get trapped down here with gods know what. Nominal’s grip on the sword tightened as he sprinted for the ladder out. He needed to be anywhere else. Eloise was closest, but she wasn’t even Blue right now. Owain? No, no. He’d just think that Nominal was crazy. He wouldn’t help.
Graecie. He’d go to Graecie. She’d believe him. Surely.
Nominal reached the ladder and began to climb. Something gripped his ankle, trying to pull him down. He used his tail to swat at whatever it was. The limb made contact with nothing. The feeling of a hand around his ankle stayed. He tried swinging with the sword again, but he lost his grip on it as he struggled to stay on the ladder. He looked down, trying to find his weapon, and the feeling vanished. The water only bubbled, as if someone had disturbed its surface. He wasn’t going to take any chances by going to get the sword.
“Fuck this. Fuck you!” he shouted, climbing the ladder as fast as possible.
The dragon hoisted himself over the wall of the well well well, nearly tripping as his feet touched the ground. His boots weren’t even laced. He had none of his armour on, and his weapon was sitting in a pool of water. He couldn’t be out in the open. Nominal wasn’t sure if whatever the fuck that was was trying to kill him or not. He picked up his pace and crossed over the bridge.
The streetlight next to him flickered out.
“Fuck… no, no, no, no, no.”
The streetlights and lanterns continued to flicker out as he sprinted by, shrouding his way in darkness. The whistling began to follow him. That same piercing note was beginning to make his head hurt. Nominal didn’t even take the staircase around, just using his wings to launch himself over the wall. He got to the door of Graecie and Shandrea’s house, banging on the wood as hard as he could.
“Graecie! Shan! Open the door! Please!” the dragon begged. He pounded on the door again. “Graecie! Please!”
The door swung open. The whistling stopped. Graecie stood in the doorway with her spear in hand. “Nom? Nom, what’s going on?”
“I need to get inside. I need to–” Nominal glanced behind him, eyes scanning for anything. Another lantern snuffed itself out. “Graecie, please!”
“Okay, okay! Come on,” she conceded, moving out of the way as the dragon tumbled in. Nominal pressed himself into a corner that allowed him to see most of the room.
Shandrea came sprinting down the staircase. “Nom, what’s going on?”
The dragon’s eyes were locked on the window, watching for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s something fucking chasing me. It’s been tormenting me for days. And it was in my house. I think it’s trying to kill me. It was watching my house. It was talking in 4C’s voice. It has been watching me. I don’t know what it is, but it’s out to get me—”
“Nom.” Graecie placed a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to slow down and tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
“Something’s been watching me since 4C… died…” the dragon started, eyes moving between the other knight and the window. “I don’t know who is doing this, or if it’s even a who. I can just feel it watching me.”
“Okay… What makes you think that it isn’t a person?” the elven knight asked.
“It showed up in my house behind me, and I swung at it with my sword. I hit air. It grabbed my ankle when I was climbing the ladder out, and I tried to hit again, but I hit nothing. It just disappeared,” Nominal continued, his tail tapping against the floor and his wings instinctively pulling in closer.
The two elves exchanged glances. Shandrea added in her own question, “You said it spoke in 4C’s voice?”
Nominal nodded. “On a walkie-talkie. I left it down in my house.”
Graecie hummed. She followed his eyes out the window. Nothing was outside for now. Even then, he’d never seen what was doing this. It was still out there. He could feel it watching from somewhere. Graecie leaned her spear up against the wall and took his hands in hers. Admittedly, Nominal flinched when she did so. She had a calm expression on her face, like she always did. He looked back at Shandrea. She seemed worried. He looked back to the window.
“Nom, when was the last time you slept?” Graecie asked gently.
“What?” he returned, snapping his gaze in her direction with wide eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Graecie repeated. “You’ve been talking about this for a few days, and I’m worried. I know this has been hard on you, but there’s nothing out there.”
“Graecie, you have to– you have to believe me,” the dragon pleaded, squeezing her hands tightly. “I swear I’m not crazy.”
“She’s not calling you crazy, Nom. We’re both worried you’re not taking care of yourself,” the water mage clarified, putting a hand on the elven knight’s shoulder.
“I’m taking care of myself,” Nominal argued. “I swear I’m not lying. This is real.”
The elven knight sighed, “Nom…”
Nominal jerked his hands out of hers. “You don’t believe me.”
A lantern in the room flickered. The dragon’s eyes snapped to it immediately, his heartbeat and breathing picking back up. Shan and Graecie followed his eyes, but they clearly hadn’t seen what he saw. Something moved out of the corner of his eye. He snapped to it. Nothing was there. Except a new note on the table.
“Graecie, please…” he muttered, taking her gently by the shoulders. “You need to believe me.”
Graecie looked back to Shandrea, then back to Nominal. “Nom—”
“Why don’t you?” he cut off, stepping back.
“We know that losing 4C has been difficult for you, and we know that you haven’t been sleeping–” Graecie tried to explain.
The dragon cut her off again, “This isn’t because of that! I swear there’s something out there! It’s trying to hurt me, Graecie!”
“Nom, we want to help you, but please, calm down,” Shandrea asked, moving to gently grab his hand.
Nom only backed away. His eyes flicked between the two. They didn’t believe him. They probably thought he was crazy. Why couldn’t they believe him? The thing was real. It was real. He swears that it’s real. His back hit the wall. The dragon hadn’t realised that he was still backing up. He couldn’t control his breathing anymore. Graecie and Shandrea didn’t move from where they were standing. He could tell they didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t be in here anymore. Nominal sprinted out the door, taking to the sky the moment it was clear.
Graecie and Shandrea followed him out.
Graecie shouted after him, “Nom! Wait!”
The dragon wasn’t sure where he could go. He couldn’t go to his sister because she didn’t want to talk to him right now. He didn’t know where Mae was. Scott might listen, but he’d just think that Nominal was crazy like Graecie and Shandrea did. He couldn’t go to anyone in Red. What was he supposed to do? He hadn’t gone out at night before. That had to be why it was attacking him. He was confident he wasn’t safe on the ground. So what if he stayed in the air for as long as he could? Or at least until there was light. He could fly until dawn.
But the fresh arrow in his wing said otherwise.
Nominal hadn’t heard it over the wind. It was lodged in the webbing of his right wing where it began to stem from his shoulder blade. He was struggling to stay in the air. The easiest place he could land was the beach. He didn’t want to, but he was going to eventually fall out of the sky if he didn’t land. Pain was clawing through his back as he circled down. His landing was less than graceful, nearly sending him crashing into the sand. The injured wing went limp as he stood, but he couldn’t look at it yet. The dragon’s eyes scanned for any sign of anything in the treeline.
“Nominal.”
Nominal snapped his head toward the voice. He staggered back at what he saw. Before him stood 4C, but his teal was gone. He was a horrible pale grey. His clothes were tattered, almost like someone had tried to tear them apart. His cloak was gone. Not just so torn that it seemed like it wasn’t there. No. It just wasn’t there at all. Part of his head was missing. The same parts where the morningstar had caved it in. Wisps of smoke rolled down from the wound like it was blood. The slime’s head was ever so slightly cocked to the side, and his remaining eye stared at him, unblinking and glowing faintly white. A bow sat in the sand next to his feet. This couldn’t be real. He looked like a ghost of what he had been.
“4C…?” the dragon muttered, his voice hitching.
It only lunged for his throat.