Demon's Paradise / 10

10

Into the forest she goes. She hears rushing water in the distance, but it is mostly serene silence. The tall trees would glow blue with an eerie brightness, and the fireflies linger over the mossy ground, those petite, lively lights.

The sudden desire comes for her to pick one of the fireflies up – she kneels down, and quickly tries cupping her hands around one, but when she opens her hands, the firefly seems to have vanished. Then she realises how her hands seem to be covered with glowing residue, like she had somehow crushed the poor insect. Oof.

She thinks of the water, and she wanders over to where the sound is from, weaving her way between the trees.

When she sees the river stream flowing in its meandering path, she steps forward – she stumbles upon a loose root, and crawls the rest of the way over to the water, where she gazes at the shimmering surface momentarily before dipping her hands into the gentle wetness, and it's soothingly warm, washing away the residue and the slight itching.

Then she cups the water and splashes the water into her face, feeling the moisture as sanctuary. She dabs some of it on her arms, and on her legs, and it would feel good, and then tries laying her feet in the stream.

She rests and closes her eyes. Maybe that bonfire can wait until she feels better.

~

Into the open field she wanders. You can better see the stars and the moon from here, and she hears her steps crunch upon the grass. She adores the serenity of the sky. A faint blue where the sky ends and the expansive horizon begins. It almost reminds of the underwater ocean.

So she sits down, feeling how comfortably warm the grass is, and lies back, and absorbs herself into beauty, gazing upward and getting lost.

She just breathes in and out the crisp air. Who knows what lies beyond? And an innocence seeps into her, and she cannot help but smile, for herself in this moment, for her forlorn existance.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" Someone's suave voice interrupts her, and she looks around and sees a man, lying down beside, with his hat over his head. "I reckon you can catch all them little stars and put 'em in your pocket, if they weren't so far away." He picks up his hat, and starts fanning himself in the face – he has a very nice beard, and calm eyes. "Oh, don't worry," he says, grinning. "I ain't here to make a ruckus. I'm just another undead, gambling against time for a livin'. Before that, I used to gamble for a lotta money. Sure got away with a hell'va lot, I did."

"Who are you?" she asks.

"People these days call me Twisted Fate," he goes. "Wherever I go, Lady Luck is always smilin'. About my other name, I don't have much to say; memory's a bit of a bitch these days. Hey, you got yourself a name yet? Or should I just call you Missus?"

She can't help feeling charmed by this Mister, and she wonders to herself – searching through the remnants of her thoughts and memories for anything pertaining to her name.

She finds something.

"Le.. Blanc," she mutters to herself at first, as if getting the feel of the word on her tongue. "I'm LeBlanc."

"Ooh," he goes. "That's a pretty lookin' name. What's your specialty?"

"What specialty?"

"Every undead has one," Twisted Fate explains, proceeding to stand up. "Lookie here, here's mine!"

You can see his outfit more clearly – he has on an embroidered jacket that droops down to his knees, and within are some casual trousers and boots. He reaches inside his jacket pocket and pulls out a hand of ornate cards. Then he swoops his arm, tossing the cards out in an arc, and they glide forward like paper airplanes, until he gestures and the cards suddenly change direction, whirling up and around in dazzling motion. He flicks his wrist towards himself and the cards converge back into his hand, as they were before.

"That's one," Twisted Fate says, tapping his feet. "Now here's another." He puts his cards away, all except three, and with a flourish of his hand, the three cards are charged with energy. He leaps into the air and throws the cards beneath him.

They pop, exploding in a cataclysm of sparks and smoke, and for a moment LeBlanc sees only the smoke disappating, while Twisted Fate seems to have disappeared entirely. The smoke smells like ripe cherries.

Then she feels a tap on her shoulder, and she sees Twisted Fate giggling behind her, up close to her now. He holds her by the back, and says, "When I'm not makin' magic, I always love a good game of poker. Or a good dance in the fields."

LeBlanc smiles at the opportunity, and he notices. "A simple andele, or a mooning waltz. I think for you, a waltz will do."

So he takes her hands and they take gentle steps in the night, a step here and there, and she lets him carry the weight of her body, and it would be wonderful.

~

The bonfire burns with a modest intensity, granting the camp some much needed warmth and light. LeBlanc had followed the gambler into the open area, where other people gather around the fire – sleeping in cots, checking their items, or chatting beside the flames. One of them plays a pleasant melody on the lute.

"You said you needed a bonfire?" Twisted Fate goes, mingling with the chatting ones. "Make yourself at home."

LeBlanc seats herself on her knees and clasps her hands, rubbing her fingers in her palms. The bonfire's warmth is good. Its energies soothe her body, but not her soul, and her memories are still lost in the dim.

"How do you remember?" she says, looking at Twisted Fate reshuffle his cards.

"Remember what? That I have a knack for this stuff?"

"I mean, your past life," she goes. "You seem to know who you were, the life you'd lived before you were undead."

"I don't," he says. "Sometimes you get flashes of memories – images, words, and I guess it's the important stuff that comes back to you first. I remember there were cards and money and the like. I just spin my own tale with the threads I already have. It's not something that really bugs me, though I see others getting worked up about it."

"Hm." LeBlanc unfurls the pouch she's taken from Oscar and pours out its contents into hand. First, an empty little glass flask, where she rolls it amongst her fingers, feeling the glass, and then opens the lid. Suddenly the flask begins to glow, and she sees a tendril of light extend from the fireplace over to her flask, filling it with energy to the brim. After the flask has filled, she tries drinking the contents, and feels that same soothing feeling of the fireplace pouring down her throat. Then more of the bonfire's energies pour into the flask until it's filled again.

Next, she pulls out some soft beads from the pouch, black and white and shimmering. They feel gelatinous, almost squishy when she tries squeezing them.

"Whoa there," Twisted Fate goes, reaching out for her beads. "You wanna be careful with those. It's 'humanity.'"

"Those things?" LeBlanc asks.

"People are always sayin' how everyone has a unique soul," he goes. "Well, this is what a soul actually looks like. When you crush one, you absorb it and your special powers are brought out. Here's the tricky thing – when you take one of these babies and use it with the bonfire, it'll make yourself all pretty again. That's how you keep yourself from being one of them zombies, actually."

LeBlanc picks up one of the beads, and tries to really crush it in her hand. It's quite hard at first, but with some effort, the bead gives in and it pops, and a tantalising liveliness enters her – like a feeling of love. "Whoa," she goes, feeling energised. "My skin still looks worn out though."

"You gotta stick your hand into the bonfire," Twisted Fate explains. "Don't worry, it won't bite. You'll be feeling a little pinch.."

She gazes at the bonfire in wonderment. The other visitors are staring at her now in expectation, and with a gulp, she inches closer and closer to the flames, the warmth feeling more hotter and intense as she extends her hand.

Finally touching the fire, an icy jolt shoots through her body. She shivers, and she can't help shutting her eyes – it's like a sneeze.

She feels her body rapidly transform, her skin growing smoother, the ache in her joints seeping away, and then she feels something new.

In her chest a new heart begins to beat, and blood begins to flow through her veins. Inner warmth spreads from her core, into her legs and arms and head.

When she opens her eyes, she sees everyone's expressions of bemusement, and she recognises the human being that she has once been.

"My, my," Twisted Fate goes, "you are quite the beauty. We better get some clothes on you fast."

But the emptiness is still inside her though; her memories are still as clouded as before.