Hangman Chapter 35

Chapter 35-

Janna was awake for a few minutes before her eyes had opened. Her mind cycled through the realities of the waking world, including that this was the day they left Melty’s presence and continued their journey. It was a bittersweet realization, not unlike the feeling of being ripped from her dream.

Just a moment earlier, she was back at home, in the presence of everyone she loved. The setting wasn’t her family house in Sigrit, but it was self-evidently home; a shifting and changing, yet altogether comfortable landscape. When she laid eyes upon a woman she knew to be her mother, she felt a tugging feeling at the center of her back. Whatever it was wasn’t enough to pull her away, as she was sitting on a chair carved from splinters of wood, rough and perhaps unsightly, but firm in its place on the ground. She knew that this was the dissonance of seeing her mother, a woman she’d never actually met.

Standing next to her mother was her father. For the first time, she didn’t feel scared or upset at his memory, it was a comforting presence. Near to them were the impressions of Sonsee, Gallow, and now Bleech. She reached out her hand, not to grasp, but in an offering gesture. For a brief instant, she knew that they would reach back. In a dream, one generally knew beforehand what would happen, and just kept willfully ignorant, but this was different. At once she knew that her parents were there with her, and yet they were readable, predictable, like a storyboard. It was a kind of collective experience, where everything was known, but that knowledge robbed nothing of meaning.

In a second, sand was wiped over her mind and she awoke. As she climbed the stairs up out of the darkness and back to lucidity, the warm feeling subsided. She clutched herself beneath the covers, desperately trying to hang on to the sensation, bitterness overtook her when she realized it was impossible, impossible to go back to that place.

Like clockwork, she rose and rubbed her eyes, standing to do some routine stretches in the warm morning light. Once her blood was flowing, Janna pulled on some clothes and made up her bed. Sonsee had woken up at some point before her, and was not in the room.

The others were outside, eating breakfast. Janna’s heart jumped and her eyes widened.

“Oh!” she cried. “What did I miss?? Why didn’t anyone wake me up??”

Bleech and Melty laughed, Sonsee looked defensive.

“Well-” she explained, gesticulating over her food. “You looked like you were having a good dream, and I didn’t want to wake you. I figured it would be nice to let you wake up on your own for once…”

Janna huffed and made her way to the table.

“I don’t want to miss breakfast with you!”

“Don’t worry,” Melty assured her. “It’s only been out for a few minutes, Gallow got up early to make it.”

“Early?” Janna said confusedly. “Wouldn’t it have been out earlier, then?”

Gallow attempted to keep down an embarrassed smile.

“I had a couple setbacks…” he muttered. “You know, nothin’ too big, not too bad…”

“Really?” Melty asked incredulously. “You almost lit the kitchen on fire!”

It was at these times that he wished her social skills were a little more sensitive.

Still, the meal was good: fried ham and eggs, with a side of potatoes. If they were to start back on their journey, they would all need a lot of energy, so he’d prepared some hearty food.

“Say, Melty,” Gallow wondered aloud. “Where do you get all of this food?”

“Ah!” It seemed like she was waiting for someone to ask that question.

“When I project my consciousness and leave the physical world,” she explained. “It’s quite easy to grab ingredients out of people’s stock.”

“This is all stolen?!” he exclaimed with a sudden guilt at using other’s food.

“Not quite,” she continued. “I just take the concept of what I want and return home with it.”

“You what-?” Gallow was about to follow up with another question concerning the mechanics of what she’d just said, but was interrupted by the sound of a violent shattering. The table abruptly turned their attention to Bleech, ho had dropped his glass on the floor.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he apologized with a flustered expression. “It was an accident! I’ll clean it up!”

He immediately got to the floor and began shoveling the glass into a neat pile using his napkin.

“Yah!” he yelped, pulling his finger back. A small cut was oozing blood.

“How did that happen?” he asked, more exasperated than hurt. “I was using my napkin, how did I get cut?” He nursed the small wound while Melty got up to check for a bandage. When she returned, she was carrying a small roll of medical tape and a dustbin.

Sonsee looked about at everyone’s plates, which were now essentially finished, and offered to collect them. She chose this as a good time, so as not to split attention. Bleech’s cut, though small, had startled a strange anxiety within her. For some reason, minor wounds were more stomach-churning than large ones. Melty’s response, though good-hearted, had added more movement to the situation, actually raising her stress. In this case, Sonsee figured that the easiest way to alleviate the scene was to remove the task of cleaning up.

As Gallow handed her his plate, only really paying attention to Melty’s effort to pick up the glass. He stood up and made his way to the side of the table, looking to help her. Once he’d taken a few steps, he suddenly felt his boot catch something on the floor. The primal shock of having one’s foot caught took hold of him, and he plummeted to the wooden floorboards with adrenaline shooting through his veins.

He hit the ground with a solid *THUD*, groaning as he got back to his feet.

“Oh dear!” Melty cried, inspecting the point he tripped at. “I thought I’d hammered down that nail by now!”

Indeed, a single nail was sticking up out of the floorboard.

“Yeah, it’s right there,” Gallow bemoaned, not wanting to sound mean, but still rubbing his head.

“That’s so strange…” she muttered to herself.

---

Soon after sunrise, Mr Sol and his two travelers awoke and began the last leg of the journey to Mount Dement. The trip through the crisp morning air was uneventful, and it was not long before the cabin was in sight, across the way from the flower meadow.

“You can stop here, sir,” Susarion informed their guide.

“You’re sure?” Mr Sol was still hesitant to leave them.

“Of course, don’t worry about it.”

The passengers leapt from the carriage and bid farewell to the older man. As Dion waved his arm above his head, it occurred to him that he’d only looked Mr Sol in the eyes once before. This time, a brief, sinister glint flashed behind his eyes, which he doubted the guide would detect. There was no guilt or shame for breaking the heart of this man’s beloved daughter. It was only a way of life.

Mr Sol took off in the opposite direction, returning to town, where he’d no doubt notice a change in his daughter’s demeanor for a few days.

“I’ll activate it now,” Dion announced.

“Hold on,” Susarion cautioned. “Wait for him to leave the area.”

Dion scoffed.

“You really care about that?” he said dismissively.

“He doesn’t deserve any misfortune coming his way,” Susarion chastised him. “And besides, you wouldn’t want a wheel to fall off his carriage and force him to hang around?”

“Yeah, sure…” Dion sighed and laid his hands on his hips, surveying the area around them in the meantime.

Once Mr Sol was out of sight, Susarion gave the signal that it was safe to activate his ability.

“Alright…” Dion peered at the cabin. “How far away do you figure that is? Two-hundred feet?”

“Give or take.”

“Cool…” He took a deep breath and split a wide posture.

“I’ll make sure that you’re excluded from the effect,” he assured his companion.

After a moment to steel himself for the wide range he would need to extend his ability to, he called out its name.

“[CITIES OF ASH]!!”

A great surge of warbling energy extended from him in a wide radius; the air took on a red hue which slowly subsided.

“Let’s go,” Susarion ordered. “I doubt they’ve even finished their morning meal by now.”

---

Janna stepped to the window, looking out towards the flowers, looking to gain some quiet. She had experienced a subtle anxiety since breakfast had begun, which only increased as the various mishaps occurred.

Try as she might, the strange, creeping sense of dread remained within her. It began from the pit of her stomach and moved to her chest, spreading out in her shoulders.

“I’m just worried for the future,” she reasoned. “It’s nothing…”

She searched her feelings, and came to the same troubling conclusion: someone wanted to kill them. It was no coincidence that two Vocation users had been sent for them, and it was not out of the question that more would be on the way.

But why?

What threat did any of them pose to anyone else? Gallow’s desertion had been seemingly cleared by Gideon; Sonsee may have been wanted for killing the assassin on the train, but the government wouldn’t send a Vocation user to kill someone, and even so, there was no reason to send him in the first place.

Things just didn’t add up, there was something else going on, orchestrated by someone, somewhere. The only thing she could feel for certain was that once they reached Hilltop, they would be able to find some answers. After all, these killers were sent to stop them from reaching their destination, right? Unless…

Her heart wandered from her body, her mind far away.

Unless there was some greater reason for killing them, something much grander and larger than she could grasp at.

Janna calmed herself, steadying herself and taking long, deep breaths. She closed her eyes and began to feel the spirits around her.

It was a delightful experience, though she knew that in time it would become pedestrian. Before that, however, she enjoyed the dance and flicker of her friends’ souls. The world was awash in a pale blue, and the constant, electricity-like pulsing of living energy informed her senses, not unlike a three-dimensional sonar.

She observed that within each soul there was an impression of its makeup. Sonsee’s was a soft, warm glow, almost golden, whereas Gallow’s resembled his Vocation, the same pale blue, but strong and resolute, outlined by a defined darker shade. Bleech’s soul had a dark gray hue that managed to stand out, while Melty was a radiant, shimmering green.

Janna remained in this kind of trance for some time, until something disturbed her. A rumbling sensation that wasn’t heard nor felt through her feet, but rather this new spiritual sight.

“What is this?” The dreadful feeling bubbled up within her, and she gradually felt her focus diminishing, pulling her away from the meditative state.

“It’s coming from…” She struggled to regain her center, looking outwards for the source of the disturbance.

Suddenly, she saw it.

The loss of focus- the stress- they weren’t a result of the rumbling, they were the rumbling. It was more like a dense haze that clouded her spirit vision, but deep within it, she could see the source: a disgusting, wretched soul, the color of dried blood and dirt. Beside it, she could almost make out a second person, but the sheer pressure exerted by the first was overwhelming. Its ill-intent was palpable.

She opened her eyes abruptly and in a panic.

“There’s someone coming!” she shouted behind her, where The others were still hanging about.

“What?” Gallow was already looking for his pistol. “Who? From where?”

Melty ran to the window.

“I don’t see anyone-” she managed to get out.

In the blink of an eye, the window pane shattered in her face. An enormous amount of energy rushed through, knocking her back and to the ground.

“Melty!” Bleech and Sonsee cried. Janna shouted in fear while Gallow jumped to his feet.

A moment later, a shockwave blasted open the wall, filling the air with wood splinters. Gallow wildly fired a shot in the direction of the attack, but hit nothing. After another moment, a second shockwave tore through the other side of the house. Nails and wood were thrown about chaotically, and Sonsee tripped to the ground.

Melty struggled up, blood running down her face from the glass lacerations.

“This can’t be…” she muttered under her breath. She felt like a fool, she should have been able to detect two people approaching, but had given so much of her attention to the physical world that she’d lost track.

“No, I’m not a fool,” she resolved. “Even if it was a small thing, it was to help Bleech…”

“Of course…” Melty whispered to herself aloud. “That’s why you need to protect these people…”

Before the next attack could be sent by their attacker, her voice rang out:

“[SIAMESE DREAM]!!”

The cabin was enveloped by a brilliant green light, and was absorbed into a tunnel to the abstract world.

---

Just outside the cabin, no more than twenty feet away, Susarion put his hand up to stop Dion.

“I’ll open,” he signalled.

The older man pulled his arm back, steadying his aim, before shoving it forward, palm first.

“[CHANGING SEASONS]!”

In an instant, Susarion’s spirit filled the air in front of him, briefly taking the shape of a grid before dissipating into a shockwave directed at the window of the cabin.

The main function of Changing Seasons was to reinforce solid objects, sending his spirit energy into them in a shape akin to a network of steel rebar. It was an immensely useful tool, as he was able to use it on other people, creating such tight reinforcements throughout their soul bodies that they became as immovable as statues. This particular trick, done by using it on open air to create a shockwave, he’d learned some time ago. With nothing solid to fill, his Vocation could simply cascade outwards.

Before a second had passed, he repositioned a few feet away and fired another in the same direction, then once more to the other side of the cabin.

Dion hopped from one foot to the other, it wasn’t safe for him to engage directly yet, but nevertheless he was itching to fight. He remembered the disbelief on Susarion’s face the first time he’d explained his Vocation to him.

“A field extends from my spirit that increases the chaos of whatever is inside of it.”

Cities of Ash was a curious ability that increased the fervor around him. It increased the chance of unlikely events, made people more aggressive, and caused accidents. The true potential of the Vocation was unknown even to him.

It made for a powerful combination with Susarion’s ability to rain constant blasts of pressure on their targets, any injuries that could happen were even more dangerous, the debris that fell about posed significantly more risk even to bystanders.

A young girl’s shriek rang out from the splintering wooden lodge. Susarion’s heart froze.

“What? Is there a child in there??” His hands suddenly began to shake.

“There was only intel on a young man… I had prepared myself to kill him- but-!”

“Hey, you good?” Dion asked aggressively, noticing his partner’s expression.

“I-” Susarion wasn’t able to finish his reply before they were bathed in an incredible green light that emanated from within the cabin.

---

Sonsee lifted herself up off the ground. Next to her was Janna, whom she helped to her feet.

“Where are we?” Janna looked around at their surroundings.

They were standing in a field of grass, where tall, alien plants grew at least six feet into the air, thick, green vines that reached up and bent over under their own weight, curling into spiral shapes. Far above their heads was an impenetrable black sky, which, upon closer inspection, was actually a cave ceiling. At their feet, among the grass sprang up flowers of many colors.

“I don’t know…” Sonsee responded in an empty voice, still dumbstruck by the otherworldly appearance of the place they now found themselves in.

Janna closed her eyes and sensed around. It was completely different from before, in the physical world. Everything around them was truly formless, like smoke somehow bound together.

“I think we’re in a Garden…” she suggested.

“A Garden?” Sonsee asked. “Like back in Sigrit?”

“I think…” Janna replied. “I can’t tell if it’s supposed to feel different or if it’s only because I have this sight now, but it’s definitely not the physical world.”

“Then that means that what Melty did just now…”

“It was to take us here?”

Neither of them knew quite what was happening nor why, only scraping together faint theories from their limited knowledge of the workings of the abstract world.

“Gallow and Bleech must have come here too, right?” Sonsee reasoned. “So, should we stay here and wait for them to find us, or go and look for them?”

Janna paused and thought.

“It would probably be best if we found some way to contact Melty,” she strategized. “Maybe then, she could help get us all together.”

“I agree,” Sonsee looked around. “But where do we even start looking for her? Is she even here? Or is she back in her spirit form?”

A twig snapped behind them.

Sonsee whipped around and pulled out her spear, ready to respond.

The brush of strange, tall plants was pushed aside, and the mysterious person now came into view.

It was an older man, wearing a tan leather jacket and a white dress shirt. His face was aged and he had a rustic appearance. It was Susarion Horace.

---

Gallow ran through a dark tunnel towards the light at the other end. He’d awoken in the pitch black, soaked in water. He’d almost fallen over while attempting to stand up, and found that he could make out only the far-off light and the water that filled an inch and a half of the tunnel floor. Immediately, he felt a sensation of deja vu.

“This is just like… that nightmare!” he realized, and took off running to the light.

Suddenly, he stopped, and guilt pierced his heart. He hadn’t even bothered to look for any of his friends. Gallow gritted his teeth and swallowed his fear.

“Bleech!” he called into the darkness.

“Janna! Sonsee! If you’re there, call back! Are you there?!” His voice echoed around the tunnel walls and only came back to him.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself. “Looks like I have to find them quick…”

He turned back to the light and sped away, kicking up water as he went.

“There it is!” he rejoiced as the light got closer. Nothing was visible past it, but it was doubtless an exit.

His footsteps pounded on the ground, resounding throughout the walls of the tunnel, along with the sound of splashing water. Within moments, he had made it. He burst through the light and into the outside.

“Whoo!” he yelped in celebration.

A split-second later, two boots crashed into his side.

“Agh!” he cried in pain, being flung back a few feet. As he jumped back up and looked at his attacker, Dion Eumenides hit the ground, making a thunderous splash that kicked up the water around him. The assassin peered disdainfully at Gallow, who had already readied his pistol.

“Let’s see…black hair, one gold streak, little black longcoat…” he mumbled to himself.

“Bingo!” Dion shouted abruptly. “Looks like you’re my target!”

Gallow only shot him a steely look.

---

“Who are you?” Sonsee asked, sheltering Janna behind her. “If you’ve come to kill us, I’ll let you know that I’ll die before you get to this girl!”

Her eyes were fiery, a protective furor taking hold of her.

“My name is Susarion Horace,” the man announced calmly. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of hurting the girl, and I mean that.”

There was something in his eyes, a spark of sadness and vulnerability, that told Sonsee he was speaking the truth.

“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even mean to hurt you,” he continued. “But I must know one thing before I make my decision.”

“What are you talking about?” Her grip tightened on the weapon.

“There was a man, a young man, who was sent after your group,” he explained. “He likely met you near Sigrit or at some point between there and Fenway, am I correct?”

Sonsee bit her tongue for a moment, considering whether or not to answer him. Finally, she responded.

“Yes, there was a man who was sent to kill us.”

“So, I’m assuming he failed?” Susarion’s voice didn’t betray any emotion anymore, he merely looked straight into her.

“Yes.”

“He was killed?”

“...Yes.”

Susarion’s stoney expression cracked for a moment, letting a sliver of pain seep up to the surface.

“His name was Fars Chaucer…” the older man said somberly. “If you could tell me… Who killed him?”

Sonsee stared at him.

---

A gunshot flew past Dion’s ear, missing him as he leapt through the air like a paper plane, dipping and spinning. He swung his leg out as he approached Gallow, who narrowly escaped, dashing to the side with Navigator. A small torrent of water was driven up by his movement, crashing back down and splashing into the air.

They were standing in a large pond-like body of water, which only had a depth of a few inches. At the perimeter of the arena, scraggly stone walls rose up about seven or eight feet; flora grew up around the top, and vines draped down towards the water.

Gallow fired another shot as Dion landed.

“Got him!” he thought as the bullet seemed to hit his enemy’s arm.

Dion gazed back at him with his piercing blue eyes.

“Yuh-uh-uh…” he teased, holding the bullet between his fingers

“How did you-?!” Gallow couldn’t believe it, just how did his ability work?

The fiery-haired young man tossed the bullet into the air, leaping up and bringing his heel down swiftly into it. The bullet launched down towards Gallow, who was already on the move.

“Not so fast!” Dion shrieked with delight, his lust for violence finally coming out full-force.

He kicked off the air, shooting towards Gallow at an incredible speed, the air around him whizzing past. He’d already accounted for the change in direction he’d need to make in order to reach his opponent, and with this speed, he’d be able to shatter his skull in one blow.

“HYA!!” he screeched, throwing his leg out, arced to hit Gallow’s head dead-on.

…

His leg hit nothing.

“W-wha?” He hung in the air for a moment, helplessly, before falling face-first into the pond.

Dion slammed his fist into the ground, spraying even more water onto himself, and raised himself up. His head snapped to look behind himself, where Gallow had retreated to the other side of the water. That wasn’t what mattered to him at the moment, however. What mattered was that above and behind Gallow, standing at the edge of the precipice, was Bleech.

---

“If you tell me who killed Fars Chaucer, I’ll be on my way.” Susarion was making a deal, but his voice carried with it a kind of sinister underpinning. The message was implicit, but clear.

Sonsee remained silent, staring unblinkingly at him.

“I’m asking you politely, for the last time.”

She steadied her breathing.

“Who killed Fars Chaucer?”

“I did.”

The air was still for a moment. In that instant, Susarion’s heart broke and was at once settled. He felt both an overwhelming sadness, but it was a sadness that had been dragged up from deep within him, already existing. What was new was the equally great sense of peace that now filled him.

He knew what was necessary to do.

---

Despite being vastly different people, Dion Eumenides and Susarion Horace now both proclaimed the same edict.

“I need to kill you… now.”