Yu-Gi-Oh!: Days of the Black Apple [The Weaver, Part 2]

[Saiba Aisu]

Yu-Gi-Oh!: Days of the Black Apple

 

Arc One: The Orchard on Fire

 

===

 

• Prologue

 

• Chapter One: The Messenger, Part 1

 

• Chapter Two: The Messenger, Part 2

 

• Chapter Three: The Book with No Name, Part 1

 

• Chapter Four: The Book with No Name, Part 2

 

• Chapter Five: The Weaver, Part 1

 

• Chapter Six: The Weaver, Part 2

 

===

 

Thanks for reading. Please feel free to comment or offer any suggestions or criticisms you may have. As always, I value the opinion of my audience.

[Saiba Aisu]

[spoiler=Prologue]

 

PROLOGUE: The Fall

 

[align=Justify]In the beginning, the Creator made the world - the skies, the seas, the deserts, the mountains. The light, and the dark, for you cannot have one without the other. He fashioned the creatures that would live in this world, giving them the law of time to govern them, and to let them know that there existed an end, and that it was the door to new life. And, for a time, there was peace. But it was not to last.

 

The Creator had many angels, and he treasured them - they were his children, flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood, fair and ageless like the dawn. But there came a time when several of them were poisoned against him, and led into open defiance against all he stood for. These angels believed themselves equal to the Creator - their hearts were choked with the vines of envy and arrogance, and they were banished one by one into the abyss.

 

In time, the Creator fashioned a new creature in his own image - man. He blessed man with a magnificent garden, which bore him all of his needs in abundance. He let man wander free across the land, marveling at its wonders. The only thing he forbid him was to take fruit from one of the trees in the garden. But despite the Creator’s warnings, the man and his wife disregarded this and listened to the voices of the Dark Ones. They plucked the apple from the silver tree, and ate it. Heartbroken and disappointed, the Creator punished them for their disobedience, and banished them from the garden. But he did not forsake them completely, for the Creator knew that to do so would leave them at the mercy of the Dark Ones.

 

He knew there would come a time when man would reach for grace again. So, he placed man on earth to face mighty trials and prove himself worthy until the end of time.

 

But what happens when time ends?

 

===

 

“The pattern is unraveling.”

 

The voice, dry and darkly satisfied, belonged to a man, ageless, with dark, shining skin that gleamed on his bald head and obvious muscles that showed, even against his black trench coat. A single gold earring was looped through his ear. His eyes were an unusual shade of blue – a misty, grayish color that looked as if it couldn’t decide between aquamarine or indigo. He wasn’t a world-class handsome, but his movements were sure and characterized by a barely contained power. Despite his bulk, the man’s footfalls on the plush carpet were soft, and he turned, ignoring both the expensive décor of the meeting room and the windows thrown open in a vain attempt to dispel the unseasonal heat. His heavy clothes seemed at odds with the rest of the room’s occupants, most of whom were dressed in business attire. The man stood at the head of a long, polished table of six, with three seats on either side, all occupied.

 

“You sound satisfied,” one of them remarked interestedly, a woman. She was definitely more attractive than the man, with long, silky black hair arranged in an elaborate, knotted hairstyle and large, liquid dark eyes. She was sitting gracefully on her seat, clad in a white silken blouse, although she looked like she'd be more comfortable kneeling on the floor.

 

One of the men on the other side of the table slammed his hand angrily against it. He was dressed stiffly in an expensive shirt buttoned to the neck, but did not seem to sweat, despite the obvious heat. His blond hair was cut short, and his blue eyes seemed to exude an aura of severity.

 

“Now’s not the time to play your oriental games, Keiko,” he growled, eying the woman with irritation. She did not meet his gaze, and contented herself by sipping some more of her tea with a delicate movement. The dark-skinned man cleared his throat. “No,” he said. “It’s fine. She has a point. I am satisfied.”

 

This remark seemed to have some unusual significance to the group, for many of them gasped or frowned. Keiko took one final sip and set her cup down on the table.

 

Sensing their discomfort, the man continued, “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but it’s getting closer now. Everyday. I hear that some of the humans can even sense it.” The group broke into a muffled discussion in voices dappled with many different accents, and Keiko said mournfully, “It’s almost time to end time.”

 

“I know that you don’t like trusting humans, but like it or not, they will play the deciding factor in the coming battle.” The dark-skinned man adjusted the collar of his coat. “Aided of course, by the Shir’tugal.”

 

The other six occupants each reacted differently – Keiko shifted slightly in her seat, a grave expression on her face, while the man who had spoken before frowned austerely. Another woman, this one with rich dark hair and dressed simply, spoke. Her voice wasn’t extraordinary – not booming, like the dark-skinned man’s, not severe like the other man’s, or even gently firm like Keiko’s. It was calm and steady, and matched her face, which seemed somehow plain in its beauty.

 

“You think that they will influence the final outcome?” she asked.

 

“Of course,” the man replied. “We all know that the Creator sowed the Shir’tugal among men to aid them in the Days of the Black Apple.”

 

One of the men fidgeted and picked at a cuff gloomily. “We’ll have to take your word for it. These days, it’s hard to know what the Creator’s thinking…”

 

The dark-skinned man’s face was solemn. “It is not our place to know that,” he said at last, eyes flickering slowly over the six occupants of the table. “Now, then, I think we’ve wasted enough time. The message has been sent to both sides, and it’s important that we get to the Shir’tugal first.”

 

“All four of them? You can't be serious, can you, Cassiel?” Keiko asked. “Yes,” the dark-skinned man replied. “All four, if there aren’t more of them.” Keiko’s frown intensified. “More of them?” she asked. “How many more of them could there possibly be?”

 

The dark-skinned man did not reply, and after a short pause, the six occupants of the table rose, “May the Creator be with you, brothers and sisters,” the dark-skinned man said, stepping backwards. “And remember,” he said, “above all things: constancy and patience.”

 

There was a flash of colorful light, and all seven were gone.[/align]

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes :

 

So there’s the prologue for the story. As you can see, it will be rather plot-driven, and written with suspense in mind, including all sorts of twists and turns. Although it may seem a bit far-fetched in the manner that it’s tied Yugioh, I’m confident that it will all work out neatly in the end.

 

I’ll probably end up borrowing a few words and ideas from the book, “Wormwood,” by G.P. Taylor. If you’ve read the book, or its companion book, “Shadowmancer,” you should notice obvious parallels between the writing style. Whenever I introduce one of those words, I’ll be sure to place it in the glossary at the end of each chapter.

 

===

 

GLOSSARY:

 

- The Pattern: The Pattern is the will of the gods, woven by the Creator himself. It is the great force that encompasses the world, determining the ultimate course and fate of every living thing. Although its existence cannot be proven, there are those who have served and channeled the Pattern’s power since the dawn of time.

 

- The Shir’tugal: An ancient and mysterious breed of humans whose presence has marked the pages of history. Not much is known about them, although they are rumored to be gifted with extraordinary and unexplainable powers, which tend to distort the Pattern. When a person is born, he or she is chosen to be a Shir’tugal by the Creator, usually to fulfill some specific purpose. However, few Shir’tugal ever truly understand their ancestry, and proceed through life oblivious to their destinies. Many of the Shir’tugal are exceptional players when it comes to Duel Monsters, able to unknowingly twist the odds to their favor with bizarre regularity.

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter One]

 

====

 

CHAPTER One: The Messenger, Part 1

 

[align=justify]A sweet, sleepy wind blew across Neo Checker Town, lulling its inhabitants and giving the town its customary lazy touch. The wind blew through the too-neat, pretty cobbled roads and out to the green fields surrounding the small town. Although they were generally full on sunny days, they were deserted today. Deserted that is, except for one person.

 

Lying back on the itchy, grass-covered slopes, Daisuke Kurosaya could see the blue sky spread endlessly above him. School had been let out for the year, and already the wind carried the heady scent of honeysuckle and damp summer rains. For every day this past week, Daisuke had come to the open, sloping field behind his hometown of Neo Checker Town. At least one hour of each day was devoted to gazing at the sky and the fleecy clouds that dotted it, pushed along by the unseen breeze.

 

Daisuke was a student, recently graduated from high school. For the past few weeks, almost every hour of every day had been spent applying to colleges, and preparing for the year’s final exams. Now it was all over – arrangements had been made to send Daisuke to Neo Domino City for an internship, and later, full study to realize his dream of becoming a professional, world-class Duelist.

 

And yet, he found himself drawn to the field, when he should’ve been celebrating the end of high school with the rest of the kids in town. It’s like I’m waiting for something, he thought absently, closing his eyes as the breeze ruffled his dark brown hair and a few amber highlights flashed. Some kind of message or warning of what’s coming… A sign, maybe, that these days aren’t going to last… Daisuke shook his head. “That’s ridiculous,” he said aloud, his voice breaking the gentle quiet of the field. “Nothing ever happens in a small place like Neo Checker Town.”

 

He sighed, trying to shake off the daze of the clear blue sky and the heavy scent of flowers sweltering in the heat. He picked himself up slowly, mouth stretching into a noiseless yawn, knowing he should leave, but reluctant to do so. “Another wasted day,” he said to the wind, “waiting for signs that nobody else can see.”

 

“Maybe it depends on who you’re asking,” a teasing voice behind him said, making him jump. He sprang up and back against the tree where he had been napping.

 

Trying to catch his breath, he looked at the newcomer. It was a beautiful woman, with long, pale blond hair and green eyes. She didn’t seem that much older than him, although something about her playful and yet serious green eyes seemed to speak of someone who had seen the world many times before. She was dressed in a light, fresh white garment that left her arms bare, and seemed perfect for the sweltering heat. A glistening green shawl was draped across her shoulders.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, unsure of what to say. She gave him a playful smile.

 

The woman laughed softly, somehow managing to raise chills on the back of Daisuke’s neck despite the heat. “I mean that maybe you’re not the only one watching for these signs,” she said, her voice turning serious.

 

Daisuke felt a bit annoyed. What did this woman want from him, anyways? Beautiful and mysterious strangers didn’t just drop out of the sky for conversations, did they? “Well,” he said, picking up his belongings, “I am over here.” He jerked his neck in the direction of Neo Checker Town, which looked even more the part of a sleepy town from a distance.

 

The woman raised a perfect eyebrow dubiously. “Well,” she said, “I’m sure you know more about that than I do. But I wouldn’t be too sure.” She began to rummage around her garment, tapping it as if in search of pockets. She appeared to have completely forgotten about Daisuke for the moment.

 

The teenager cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “uh, it was nice talking to you and everything, but I should go.” He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders.

 

He turned to leave, but the woman grabbed his wrist with slim fingers in a grip of steel. He looked back in shock, and the woman let go of his arm. There was a blur of movement in her hand, and suddenly she was holding out a card in between her fingers, depicting a hero clad in spiky blue armor.

 

“There it is,” she laughed, dropping it in Daisuke’s palm. His eyes widened as he realized the card – ‘Cyber Hero Captain Destiny’.

 

How had the woman known that he used a Cyber Hero Deck, and how had she gotten hold of such a rare and powerful card? There was just no way this was a coincidence. Daisuke’s lips curled into a wry frown. He couldn’t accept this card, as much as he wanted to. Perhaps the woman didn’t know how much it was worth, or maybe she was just teasing him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he began, raising his head towards her, only to look around in confusion at the empty space where the woman had stood. He looked around the field desperately, but there was no one in sight. The woman had disappeared.

 

Daisuke looked back at the card in his hand, and a strange idea crossed his mind before he shook it away. After a moment of internal turmoil and a last look around the deserted field, he pocketed the card and began to walk home.

 

Perhaps it was just Daisuke, but something about the chance meeting with the stranger had felt unusual. He hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder as Neo Checker Town’s main boulevard came into view.

 

That wasn’t coincidence, he thought quietly, thinking of the powerful card in his pocket.

 

It was destiny.[/align]

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes:

 

And there’s the first chapter. I know it may seem a little short when compared to my usually scholarly chapters, but I didn’t want to get too far into the story before I made the option of submitting characters a viable one. Also, I know that I generally start each of my stories with a Duel, but I didn’t want to complicate the first chapter too much.

 

The Duel is coming up, though, along with longer chapters, I promise. Also, I’ll try and write at least one chapter per week / two weeks, depending on how busy I am with school and other activities.

 

===

 

GLOSSARY:

 

No new entries in the glossary for this chapter.

 

===

 

CHARACTER Profiles :

 

Whenever an important character(s) is introduced into the story, I will post a short profile of him in this section. I will also update older profiles periodically as new details are revealed, so be sure to keep an eye out for this section.

 

Daisuke Kurosaya

Age: 18

Hair Color: Dark brown, with a few golden highlights

Hairstyle: Bangs fall over the face, spikes out in the back

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6”0

Weight: 165 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: Unknown

Deck: Cyber Hero Deck

Personality: Daisuke is a bit of a dreamer, and tends to be generally optimistic. Friendly, although he can get pretty serious when it comes to Dueling. Despite his deceiving dreaminess, Daisuke is a born leader and has an excellent sense of right and wrong.

Hobbies: Collecting Duel Monsters cards, playing truant, and staring at the sky

Likes: Dueling, picnics.

Dislikes: Dishonesty, boredom.

 

===

 

NEXT Chapter : This section will contain a short preface to the next chapter, generally to add suspense, just like I’ve done in previous projects. While it won’t give away anything terribly important, these will often hold tiny bits of information that may help you form a better understanding of the next chapter.

 

An unexplainable shadow, a mysterious warning.

The sparkle of creation.

 

What forces have been unleashed?

 

Next Chapter: The Messenger, Part 2

 

[Umbra]

At times, I forget that you were around when Chronicles of the Ascension was still up and running. I can see the similarities, epic prologue and all, the Pattern, how you format the chapters and introducing new terms and characters...

 

Fics like these are rarely seen anymore. Keep going.

[bury the year]

At times' date=' I forget that you were around when Chronicles of the Ascension was still up and running. I can see the similarities, epic prologue and all, the Pattern, how you format the chapters and introducing new terms and characters...

 

Fics like these are rarely seen anymore. Keep going.

[/quote']

 

inorite?

 

Ixi's fic was the first things I thought of when I saw it.

 

Anyhoo, excellent fic. This gets put on my watch list, which is a rare honor. :D

 

EDIT: I just skimmed both chapters, and I recommend changing Daisuke's last name. We already have a famous Kurosaki, and if they're one thing that pisses off most readers, it's seeing the "unique" (I'm using this loosely) name of their character slapped on a different one. Just FYI.

[Saiba Aisu]

[spoiler=Chapter Two]

 

====

 

RESPONSE To Feedback:

 

Rinne: Alright, Daisuke's surname has been changed to Kurosaya. Thanks for the help, and I will be responding to your PM shortly.

 

Note: I have already received the first character submission for this project. Feel free to submit one whenever you like; however, keep in mind that the longer you wait, the less likely it is that your character will be able to fit into his / her fundamental niche.

 

====

 

CHAPTER Two: The Messenger, Part 2

 

[align=justify]The slender, brown-haired girl tossed her head back, trying to dispel the heat inside the cramped shop. Her green eyes were wearily steady as she watched the last of the day’s customers leave slowly, clutching their purchased bundles to their chests. The counter was a mess – broken pens, torn receipts, and crumpled dollar bills all strewed across the top of it in haphazard disarray.

 

Marren sighed as the final customer vanished through the door, leaving the bell tinkling merrily. She wiped her forehead and looked at the messy shop – as a rule, the girl normally detested messes and kept the shop well-organized, but today had been the day of a special sale, and Marren had been unable to keep the shop orderly as the day progressed.

 

She groaned at the sight of the mess, and unwilling to do battle with it just yet, pushed her brown tresses back and took a seat behind the counter, where stacks of unopened books lay piled, so that she was almost invisible.

 

She laid her head down on her crossed arms and closed her eyes, listening to her breathing slowly. The bell of the door twinkled merrily again as someone stepped into the shop. Sighing mentally, Marren looked up, her dark eyebrows arched in vexation.

 

She bit her lip at the sight of the newcomer who was looking earnestly around the room. It was a man, tall, and shrouded in a heavy black trench coat, with a matching black hat and boots. And in this heat, too! Marren thought, shocked by the man’s clothing. He continued to look around the shop curiously for a moment, before Marren realized that she was invisible behind the books stacked on the desk.

 

“I’m over here,” she called, getting up and around the desk with difficulty. The stranger turned with a steely smile, and Marren stopped halfway. He was pale and good-looking, she supposed, with golden-gray hair and ivory skin. His face was unlined and ageless, yet there was something ancient in his demeanor. She tried to smile and make eye contact, but his eyes were hidden behind an odd pair of dark blue spectacles, cut out of the finest sapphire and polished to reflect the sun.

 

“Can I help you?” she asked, trying to ignore the man’s unusual glasses – they gave her the feeling that he was secretly watching her, and laughing.

 

The man took off his hat, revealing long blond hair caught back in a short ponytail. “I didn’t see you over there,” he said boldly.

 

Marren made her way forward, trying not to trip over the mess on the floor. “My name is Marren,” she said, offering her hand brusquely. The stranger smiled politely behind his glasses, but the girl could feel his staring eyes through the glass.

 

“Charming,” he said, looking her up and down. The girl waited with poorly concealed impatience for the man’s name, but he did not offer one.

 

“And yes,” the man said finally, his voice clipped with a creamy accent that Marren couldn’t place. “You can be of great help to me. I’m looking for a book – a very peculiar one,” he continued, when the girl raised a slim brow questioningly.

 

“Does this book have a name?” she asked, unfazed. She had met eccentric book collectors in the past, and dealt with them – this man didn’t scare her, for all his odd clothing.

 

“Yes,” the man replied, looking around the room. “But I doubt that you would even be able to speak it. Its power was forgotten long ago by the race of men.” Marren frowned. Perhaps the man was playing some kind of a joke on her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she snapped, in no mood for games, “but I’ve never heard of such a book. And anyways, even if it does exist, it certainly isn’t here.” The man seemed to laugh at that, the corner of his eyes crinkling, but his mouth remained in a static line.

 

“I see,” he said slowly, shrugging his shoulders. “I will search elsewhere, then. I sense that you are being honest with me.” He stepped forward and continued to look around the room, muttering to himself and adjusting his blue glasses.

 

Marren felt her temper rise, but forced herself to be civil. “Excuse me,” she said through clenched teeth, “but unless you know what you’re looking for, I can’t help you. And we’re just closing now.”

 

The stranger shrugged carelessly. “I won’t take long,” he said, pulling out an expensive colored edition of Alice in Wonderland. “A beautiful book, isn’t it?” he murmured, stroking the book’s spine and opening it to a page displaying a pastel rendering of a blond girl trapped in a large bottle.

 

Marren glanced at it briefly. She had never been a lover of fairy tales like that book, and had always disliked the silly girl in between its pages. “Lovely,” she said shortly. “Now, if you’d leave, I really need to start cleaning up.”

 

The man closed the book shut with a loud snap, and the girl jumped. “You know you’re in danger, don’t you?” he asked conversationally, putting it back in its place carefully. Marren frowned angrily but bit back her temper – she would not make a scene for this man. He would leave, now.

 

“I can’t imagine what would possess you to say such a thing,” she said, bustling around the corner of the desk and beginning to stack the unopened books. Her intimation was clear – leave now.

 

The man seemed to regard her quietly for a moment. “You know,” he said at last, “I’m disappointed. I didn’t think that you would be a coward.”

 

Marren knocked over the stack of books on her desk. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to bite back the angry words which bubbled on her tongue.

 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said with her back turned to the man. “Now, if you’d please get out. We’re closed.”

 

The man did not reply. She turned quickly, hoping beyond hope that he had gone at last. She cried out as she looked up at the man towering above her, clutching her wrist. He seemed to have grown even taller, and he had removed his sapphire glasses, revealing stormy gray eyes.

 

“The message has been sent,” he said, his voice ringing with prophetic importance. “But it has not yet been received.”

 

Marren struggled against his grip, and the man released her and stepped back. She fell against the desk, feeling the aged wood cut into her back.

 

“Now,” the man said. “I have a message to deliver, and you will hear it.” He surveyed her through his frightening eyes sternly. “Even if it kills you.”

 

“Have you lost your mind? What do you want from me?” she demanded fiercely.

 

“I told you,” he replied. “I have a message for you, and you would do well to listen.”

 

Marren tossed back her head and tried to slow her beating heart. “Let’s hear it, then,” she commanded, arms crossed.

 

The man seemed to smile slightly, but his gray eyes remained as stormy as before. “My message is one that cannot be delivered by word of mouth. Instead, it must be learned.”

 

His powerful eyes locked onto the girl, who met his gaze bravely. “I suppose you have a Duel Disk at hand?” he asked, unbuttoning his trench coat.

 

The girl raised an eyebrow. “You want to Duel me?” she asked. “That’s the message?”

 

The stranger pulled out a compacted Duel Disk from an inside coat pocket and pressed down on it. With a sleek click, it expanded, revealing a sharper, more elegant model than any the girl had seen before. Strange characters from another language were etched on the sides of the Disk in gold leaf.

 

“You are a clever girl,” the man replied, “and right on both counts. Our match won’t take long.”

 

Marren sighed in defeat. “Stranger things have happened,” she muttered, turning around and opening a drawer. At least it’ll give me a chance to teach him a little lesson, she thought, pulling out a standard Duel Disk, which felt familiar and oddly comforting as she attached it to her arm. “Still, you could’ve just asked, and without the whole ‘messenger’ vibe.”

 

The stranger did not reply. “Well, anyways,” Marren said, some of her old confidence returning, “it shouldn’t take me too long to win. I’ll begin our little match, then.”

 

She drew her opening five cards, and then one more. “I will summon Valkyrie Svava in Defense Position,” she said, selecting one of the cards from her hand and placing it on her Duel Disk.

 

There was a sparkle of light as a woman clad in light blue armor appeared on Marren’s field. A helmet with swan feathers covered her brown hair, and she clutched a short hunting knife in her right hand, while a small shield was strapped to her left arm. She had 1000 ATK and 1400 DEF – a solid monster to start with.

 

“I will then set one card face-down,” Marren added, placing a concealed card in the Spell and Trap Zone. “Your move.”

 

The stranger was silent as he drew his card. “I will summon Mouthpiece of the Gods.” He placed a card on the field, and a pale man in rags appeared with outstretched arms. A shimmering shadow seemed to hang over him, and his scores stood at 1800 ATK and 200 DEF.

 

“Anything is possible with the strength of the gods behind you,” the stranger said. “Mouthpiece of the Gods, attack Valkyrie Svava,” he commanded, and the man’s shadow seemed to warp bizarrely and stretch forward, engulfing Marren’s monster hungrily, who screamed shortly before vanishing in a hail of pixels.

 

“And so your Valkyrie Svava is vanquished,” he mused, stroking his chin. “Not really,” Marren commented, searching through her Deck. “When my Valkyrie is destroyed by the opponent, I can Special Summon another of her comrades to take her place.”

 

She placed a second monster card on the field horizontally. “And I’ll choose my Valkyrie Hilde, in Defense Position again.” A second woman appeared in a kneeling position, clad in green armor and a matching feather helmet. Pale blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders, and she was well-equipped with a longsword and a shield. Her scores stood at 1600 ATK and 1200 DEF – another solid monster.

 

“An improvement over your previous monster,” the stranger commented, “but she’s still not strong enough to destroy my Mouthpiece of the Gods.” Marren did not reply, but her monster tossed him an angry look.

 

“I will activate my Continuous Spell Card, Pattern of Creation,” the man said, placing a second card on his Duel Disk. A Spell Card depicting a sparkling being at work over a colorful loom appeared next to Mouthpiece of the Gods.

 

“I conceal an additional card. That ends my turn, for now.” The man looked up at the girl as his face-down card appeared. “Oh,” he said suddenly, “and if you must call me something, call me Dane.”

 

“Fine, Dane, it’s my move now.” Marren drew another card. “I activate the effect of my Valkyrie Hilde,” she said, and the Valkyrie rose, brandishing her sword. “By switching her Battle Position,” Marren explained, “my Valkyrie can destroy one face-up Spell or Trap Card on the field.”

 

The stranger’s Spell Card shimmered briefly before disappearing. “Next, I activate the effect of Valkyrie Svava in my Graveyard.” Marren’s Graveyard slot began to glow as she picked up her previous monster. “By removing her from play in the Graveyard, I can switch the battle position of a monster on the field.”

 

The man frowned as Mouthpiece of the Gods stooped down and knelt, his DEF at a mere 200. “Now,” Marren commanded, “Valkyrie Hilde, attack his monster!” The female warrior sprang forward and cut the pale-skinned man into ribbons with a flurry of graceful blows.

 

“I set one card face-down,” the girl continued, and a second face-down card materialized next to the first.

 

“It’s too bad, Dane,” Marren said, smiling at her monster. “But it looks like we won’t be delaying much longer.”

 

“You are correct again,” the man said, picking up another card. “I invoke the Archangel Disenchanter in Attack Mode.”

 

A winged man clad in an exceptionally white robe appeared on his field, with his hands forming mystic signs and featuring 1500 ATK and 1100 DEF.

 

Marren clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Your monster is too weak…” she said.

 

“I will activate Archangel Disenchanter’s effect,” Dane said, placing one card from his hand into the Graveyard slot. “By discarding a Light monster card from my hand, I can destroy one Spell or Trap card on the field. I select the card you set on your last turn.”

 

The angel clapped his hands together in a sign, and a beam of blinding light struck Marren’s face-down card, which was instantly destroyed.

 

“Next,” he continued, “I will offer my Archangel Disenchanter.”

 

Dane’s monster disappeared in a burst of light, while Marren looked uneasy. “What are you offering it for?” she asked curiously. “You already Normal Summoned on this turn…”

 

Dane lifted a card from his Graveyard slot with a small smile. “By tributing one Light monster on my field,” he said, “I can Special Summon my Archangel Dragon from the Graveyard.”

 

Marren’s eyes widened in surprise. So that had been the card he had discarded to fuel Archangel Disenchanter’s effect – Dane must have been planning this move for a while.

 

There was another blinding flash of light, and a snarling white dragon appeared in the place of Dane’s previous monster. It arched its long neck and flared its six feathery wings. With 2100 ATK and 800 DEF points, it was easily the strongest monster on the field.

 

“My Dragon comes with an effect,” Dane added, his gray eyes flashing as Archangel Dragon roared. “When he is called forth from the Graveyard, his ATK increases by 400.”

 

“Now I will attack your Valkyrie Hilde,” Dane said, and Archangel Dragon sent a searing cascade of gold-white flames toward Marren’s monster. However, the flames stopped suddenly, and began to circle Valkyrie Hilde slowly.

 

Marren’s smile was grim. “Sorry, Dane,” she said. “I activated my Trap Card, Valkyrie Spirit Burst. By switching the battle position of a ‘Valkyrie’ monster on my field, I can destroy one face-up card.”

 

Dane could only watch as Valkyrie Hilde threw back her head and arched her body. The surrounding flames wavered, and then exploded outwards, frothing the field with gold-white tongues. Archangel Dragon disappeared in the blinding inferno, leaving Dane’s field open once again.

 

“My Dragon may be gone, but I can still use this,” Dane said. “Activate Saint’s Light.” He revealed his Quickplay Spell Card, which shone brightly and then vanished. “When a Light monster with an ATK of 2000 or higher leaves my field, I can Special Summon a Light monster directly from my hand to replace the loss.”

 

Dane plucked a card from his hand and placed it on his Duel Disk. “I will select my Life-Breathing Prodigy in Defense Mode,” he said, and a second angel appeared on his field. This angel was younger than the first, with warm eyes and a smiling face. A tilted halo hung off his head, and his scores stood at only 500 ATK and 300 DEF.

 

“And when my Life-Breathing Prodigy is summoned,” Dane added, “I can select one Level 4 or lower Light monster from my Graveyard and revive it.” There was a flash of light as Mouthpiece of the Gods appeared in Defense Position, his arms crossed protectively and the same sparkling shadow hanging over him.

 

“Of course,” Dane said, “the monster Special Summoned by Saint’s Light is destroyed during the End Phase.”

 

Life-Breathing Prodigy gave a small sigh and then fell to his knees before shattering into several jagged pixels.

 

“That ends my turn,” Dane said shortly, “but not this Duel.”

 

“Then it’s my move,” Marren said, drawing her card and then looking at it for a moment with a small grimace. Just the card she wanted. Of course. Twisting the odds.

 

“I will sacrifice my Valkyrie Hilde to summon Valkyrie Sigrdrifa in Defense Mode,” she said, and the green-clad warrior disappeared in a flash of light to be replaced by a similar, but much gentler woman wearing violet armor and a matching feathered helmet over her black hair. A slim, sheathed poniard was strapped to her waist, but she did not seem to need it. A sturdy steel shield was strapped to her arm, and she featured 1800 ATK and 2000 DEF.

 

“Did you know,” Marren said idly, watching her monster, “that Valkyrie Sigrdrifa is the preparer of heroes in Norse mythology? According to legend, when a worthy hero takes up a quest, this Valkyrie appears to him and prepares him for his future trials.”

 

Marren’s green eyes flicked upwards towards Dane. “And just like her counterpart, my Valkyrie Sigrdrifa is the champion of warriors,” she said. “As long as she is on the field, I can Special Summon one of my Level 4 or lower Warrior-Type monsters from the Graveyard per turn.”

 

The Valkyrie raised her heavy shield effortlessly in acknowledgement of Marren and gave a soft battle cry. In a blur of light and black raven feathers, Valkyrie Hilde appeared once more in Attack Mode, her longsword at the ready and a steely look in her eyes.

 

“Now then,” Marren said. “I activate my Valkyrie Sigrdrifa’s effect – by switching her battle position, I can add an Equip Spell card from my Deck to my hand.” The Valkyrie switched to Attack Position and dropped her shield to the ground, drawing her poniard with a fierce look that had certainly not been there before. Meanwhile, the girl looked briefly through her Deck, and then selected a card and added it to her hand.

 

“And although the Spell I just added to my hand cannot be activated this turn,” Marren said, “I can still take a good chunk out of your Life Points with my two Valkyries.” The two female warriors exchanged a grim nod, and then turned back to Mouthpiece of the Gods.

 

“Valkyrie Sigrdrifa will attack your monster,” Marren commanded, and the purple-clad warrior sprung forward and slit the throat of Dane’s monster with one sweep.

 

“Next," she said, "my Valkyrie Hilde attacks you directly. But that's not all - by dropping her DEF by 400, my Valkyrie can increase her offense by 400 until the End Phase!” The blonde Valkyrie tossed her shield aside with a cry and slashed her sword once, twice. Dane winced as his Life Points dropped accordingly.

 

Marren: 4000 LP

Dane: 2000 LP (4000-2000)

 

“I think that will do for now,” Marren said, ending her turn.

 

“I promise that I won’t disappoint you,” Dane said, drawing one card. He studied his hand briefly before placing a card on his Duel Disk. “I summon my Archangel Knight in Attack Mode.” A winged man in full armor clutching a steel sword and shield appeared, with a score of 1700 ATK and 1500 DEF. His blue eyes were steady, and a fiery red cross was embossed on his shield.

 

“But he won’t be around for long. I offer my Knight to revive my Archangel Dragon.”

 

Marren watched as Dane’s monster disappeared in a familiar burst of light, only to be replaced by the snarling, six-winged dragon once more.

 

Dane smiled slightly, though it did not reach his gray eyes. “You may have done better than I expected you to,” he said, “but my Dragon is very angry. He doesn’t like being cheated out of his prey.” The cheerless smiled widened. “Neither do I.”

 

“Now,” Dane commanded, “I will destroy your so-called ‘champion of warriors’ once and for all. Archangel Dragon attacks Valkyrie Sigrdrifa with Searing Benediction.”

 

Archangel Dragon flared its feathery wings and let loose a pillar of white-gold flames from its maw, which quickly consumed the purple-clad warrior, along with some of Marren’s Life Points.

 

Marren: 3300 LP (2500-1800)

Dane: 2000 LP

 

“And now I can activate my Dragon’s effect,” Dane said. “Whenever he destroys an opponent’s monster by battle, I can further reduce your Life Points by that monster’s highest stat, be it ATK or DEF.”

 

Marren frowned and swore softly. “And if I remember correctly, your Valkyrie Sigrdrifa’s DEF was numbered at 2000…” Dane said, watching as Archangel Dragon sent a second attack towards the girl. Marren screamed as she felt the searing heat of the attack, and the customary Duel Disk-induced shock that accompanied it.

 

Marren: 1300 LP (3300-2000)

Dane: 2000 LP

 

“You’ve proven to be a worthy opponent,” he said, eying Marren and her monster sternly. “But next move, my Dragon will eliminate the remainder of your Life Points. I set one card face-down, and end my turn.”

 

Marren placed a finger on the top card of her Deck, preparing for her next draw...

 

... and flinched as the air around her turned static. Every nerve in her body seemed charged with electricity. Marren froze and tried to throw off the feeling of the momentary shock which had hit her.

 

Dane watched her through narrowed gray eyes, and something like a frown appeared on his face. "Is everything alright?" he asked suspiciously.

 

"Everything's fine," Marren replied, trying not to betray the odd tingling in her body. She took a steadying breath and drew her card, her mind filled with thoughts she did not want to share. The card she had just drawn did not seem to be particularly useful in her current situation, and yet at the same time, she knew that this was the card she needed to use.

 

Since her early childhood, Marren had possessed an unusual ability. Sometimes, when she touched something - a book, a toy, and even other people - she would feel a powerful, numbing electric shock throughout her body. Generally, these items tended to have a specific importance to her: the book she grabbed by mistake turned out to be her next birthday present; the stranger she bumped into on the street turned out to be a family friend; the lotto ticket she grabbed turned out to win her four hundred dollars; and so on and so forth.

 

By judging the intensity and duration of these shocks, Marren was usually able to assess how important they were. Short mild shocks tended to be of negligible importance, like forgetting her car keys or failing an exam.

 

But the gift worked both ways.

 

One time, a few years ago, Marren had been offered a ride home by a friend from a party. As soon as she has touched the car door, she had felt an electric shock so powerful; it left black spots in her vision. Unable to properly explain herself, she had stuttered an excuse and hurried away.

 

Later, that same vehicle was mauled by a truck whose brakes failed downhill. There were no survivors.

 

It wasn't a pleasant gift, and more than once she had found herself wondering what it would be like to live without it. It had taken her a long time to accept that she could not stop all the accidents in the world, and that she had to do the best she could to cope.

 

Oddly enough, Marren's gift seemed to extend to Duel Monsters, too. When participating in a tournament, she would sometimes brush up against other players accidentally, and from the following shocks, be able to reluctantly determine her next opponent. Sometimes, but not often, her gift even extended to individual cards themselves, and when she would draw a card or sift through her Deck, she would know at once by the following shock which cards would be most important to her victory in that Duel.

 

It was an uncontrollable ability that Marren did her best to suppress, and wished she didn't have - using her powers felt like cheating of some sort. Still, it was a useful ability, and one that was very hard to resist sometimes. It was all she could do to prevent herself from tapping the cards in her Deck in order and prepare accordingly.

 

And here it was again, now of all times.

 

Marren closed her eyes and decided to trust in her gift. “I summon Valkyrie Skogul in Attack Mode.”

 

There was a flash of light and raven feathers, and another female warrior appeared, wearing silver armor and brandishing a long spear offensively. Long red hair under her winged helmet tumbled over her shoulders, and she featured 1800 ATK and 1000 DEF.

 

“A powerful monster,” Dane noted, “but she is not strong enough to defeat my Archangel Dragon.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Marren said, her fingers still numb after the shock. “She’s not the one you should be worrying about.” She lifted one of the cards in her hand into the air, depicting a shining sword and a dragon recoiling from it.

 

“I activate the Equip Spell Card I fetched with my Valkyrie Sigrdrifa last turn,” Marren said, placing the card on her Duel Disk. “And equip my Valkyrie Hilde with the Enchanted Blade Freyr!”

 

The blonde Valkyrie swung her blade high into the air, and with a burst of blinding light, her weapon was replaced with a shining sword, wickedly sharp and crested with a silver dragon. Her ATK points increased by 700 to 2300.

 

“Allow me to explain how this works,” Marren said, fighting the customary exhaustion that accompanied her gift’s activation.

 

“My Enchanted Blade Freyr can only be equipped to a Warrior-Type monster like my Valkyrie,” she said. “It increases her offense by 700 points, and grants her an additional effect when she destroys one of your monsters.”

 

The girl smiled grimly, her eyes like green flint. “But you won’t be around that long. My Valkyrie Hilde drops her DEF by 400 and gains 400 ATK – then she attacks your Archangel Dragon!”

 

The female warrior ran forward, brandishing the shimmering sword in one hand and leaving her shield behind her as her ATK score rose to 2700.

 

“I activate my Divine Thunderbolt Trap card,” Dane said, revealing his face-down. It pictured the same sparkling being as before hurling a jagged, two-pronged thunderbolt from the heavens.

 

“By discarding a Light monster from my hand, I can cleanse the field of two of your cards.” Dane’s stormy gray eyes hardened. “I send Archangel Guardian from my hand to the Graveyard to destroy your two Valkyries.” Dane briefly flashed a monster card depicting a muscular angel armed with a huge shield before placing it in the Graveyard slot. A crackling stream of lightning exploded from his card and split into two.

 

“I don’t think so!” Marren cried, her mind filled with the sudden clarity that came with understanding her gift. “I’ll activate my Valkyrie Skogul’s effect – by dropping her DEF by 400, she can negate and destroy one of your Trap cards!!”

 

The red-haired Valkyrie leapt acrobatically into the air with a savage cry, landing in front of her defenseless comrade. She spun her spear defensively in a blur as the lightning struck. The two-pronged lightning bolt spun for a moment around her spear, and then dissipated; Valkyrie Skogul’s DEF dropped by 400, leaving her with only 400.

 

“Now,” Marren commanded, “Valkyrie Hilde, attack Archangel Dragon!” The blonde warrior jumped high into the air and spiraled downwards, cutting neatly through the white dragon with one stroke.

 

“Then Valkyrie Skogul will attack you directly.” The second Valkyrie charged forward and with a quick sweep of her spear, struck Dane across the chest. His face was expressionless as his Life Points dropped to zero.

 

Marren deactivated her Duel Disk and placed it on the desk behind her, her eyes fixed on the stranger as her two monsters faded away.

 

“You’ve learned the lesson well,” he said at last, reaching into his pocket and placing the sapphire spectacles back over his eyes. He cast one last glance around the shop, and he seemed almost forlorn.

 

“I had hoped to prepare you a bit better for what is to come,” he said. “For a moment there, it almost seemed like… but no…”

 

Dane shook his head gently, and looked back up at the girl. “Very well,” he said. “I see now that a greater hand then mine has a part to play in your destiny.”

 

He gave her a steely smile which she did not return. “I will retire,” he said. “For now.”

 

The man made his way across the room, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. Suddenly the tiny room seemed even more cramped than before. He pulled open the door, whose responding jingle seemed at odds with the gloomy silence inside the shop.

 

He turned and looked back at her, his powerful shoulders framing the doorway. Even through the polished sapphire of his glasses, Marren could feel his powerful gaze.

 

“You are a girl who knows many things. For one young as you, that can be very dangerous.”

 

Marren stood rooted to the ground, unsure of how to reply. The dusty air in the shop seemed stifling in the silence.

 

“Take care that you do not stray far from here,” he said. “There are people searching for you that I pray you will never meet.”

 

He lifted his hat and tilted it respectfully, and walked out. There was the resounding slam of the door, and then silence. The man was gone.

 

Marren turned, suddenly exhausted, and collapsed into her chair. She breathed a heavy sigh and looked around the messy shop, frowning tiredly as she did so.

 

The hardest day that she’d had in years, and she had an uncomfortable feeling that far harder ones were on their way.[/align]

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes: This chapter introduces the second leading protagonist in the story, which will shift from character to character as it progresses. I’m sorry if the Duel wasn’t the most exciting – the focus of this chapter was really the tension between Marren and Dane, and the delivery of the mysterious ‘message’.

 

I also want to apologize about the length of this chapter, which went a little above what I’m aiming for due to the amount of information and tasteful hints I had to introduce. Expect future chapters to be a bit shorter and more manageable to read.

 

===

 

CARD List: This section will feature the cards used in this chapter, although don’t expect it to ruin any future Duels – only card effects that have already been revealed will be listed.

 

[spoiler=Monsters]

 

Valkyrie Svava

Level 4

Light

Warrior-Type/Effect

ATK 1000 / DEF 1400

When this card is destroyed by your opponent's monster or card effect, you can Special Summon 1 Level 4 or lower "Valkyrie" Warrior-Type monster from your Deck. You can remove this card in your Graveyard from play to change the battle position of 1 monster on the field (Flip Effects are not activated).

 

Valkyrie Hilde

Level 4

Light

Warrior-Type/Effect

ATK 1600 / DEF 1200

When this card battles, you can decrease its DEF by 400 to increase its ATK by 400 until the End Phase. You cannot activate this effect when this card's DEF is lower than 400. Once per turn, during your Main Phase, you can switch this card's battle position and destroy 1 face-up Spell or Trap Card on the field.

 

Valkyrie Skogul

Level 4

Light

Warrior-Type/Effect

ATK 1800 / DEF 800

You can decrease this card's DEF by 400 to negate the activation and effect of 1 Trap Card and destroy that card. You cannot activate this effect when this card's DEF is lower than 400.

 

Valkyrie Sigrdrifa

Level 6

Light

Warrior-Type/Effect

ATK 1800 / DEF 2000

Once per turn, during your Main Phase, you can Special Summon 1 Level 4 or lower Warrior-Type monster from your Graveyard. Once per turn, you can switch this card's battle position and add 1 Equip Spell Card from your Deck to your hand. It cannot be activated this turn.

 

Mouthpiece of the Gods

Level 4

Light

Fairy-Type/Effect

ATK 1800 / DEF 200

Effect: Unknown

 

Life-Breathing Prodigy

Level 2

Light

Fairy-Type/Tuner/Effect

ATK 500 / DEF 300

When this card is Normal Summoned or Special Summoned, you can Special Summon 1 Level 4 or lower LIGHT monster from your Graveyard in face-up Defense Position, except "Life-Breathing Prodigy".

 

Archangel Disenchanter

Level 4

Light

Fairy-Type/Effect

ATK 1500 / DEF 1100

Once per turn, you can discard 1 LIGHT monster from your hand to destroy 1 Spell or Trap Card on the field.

 

Archangel Knight

Level 4

Light

Fairy-Type/Effect

ATK 1700 / DEF 1500

Effect: Unknown

 

Archangel Dragon

Level 6

Light

Dragon-Type/Effect

ATK 2100 / DEF 800

Once per turn, you can tribute 1 LIGHT monster you control to Special Summon this card from your Graveyard. When this card is Special Summoned from the Graveyard, it gains 400 ATK. When this card destroys an opponent's Attack Position monster by battle, inflict damage to your opponent equal to that monster's ATK or DEF, whichever is higher.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Spells]

 

Enchanted Blade Freyr

Equip Spell Card

Equip only to a Warrior-Type monster. The equipped monster gains 700 ATK.

 

Pattern of Creation

Continuous Spell Card

Effect: Unknown

 

Saint's Light

Quickplay Spell Card

Activate only during a turn when a LIGHT monster you control with an ATK of 2000 or more is removed from the field. Special Summon 1 LIGHT monster from your hand, ignoring all Summoning conditions. Destroy the Special Summoned monster during the End Phase.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Traps]

 

Valkyrie Spirit Burst

Normal Trap Card

Change the battle position of 1 "Valkyrie" Warrior-Type monster you control, and destroy 1 face-up card your opponent controls.

 

Divine Thunderbolt

Normal Trap Card

Discard 1 LIGHT monster from your hand. Destroy 2 cards your opponent controls.

 

 

 

 

 

===

 

GLOSSARY:

 

No new entries in the glossary for this chapter.

 

===

 

CHARACTER Profiles :

 

Marren Hunter

Age: 17

Hair Color: Light brown, with natural highlights

Eye Color: Malachite Green

Height: 5"7

Weight: 112 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: Valkyrie Hilde

Deck: Valkyrie Deck

Personality: Marren is feisty and down-to-earth, preferring to avoid silly games unlike most girls her age. Contrasting this is her unusual love of books, which explains her position as the owner of Morrow & Co., a small bookstore in Neo Checker Town. Honest and straight-forward, though sometimes irritable.

Hobbies: Scouring book sales, writing.

Likes: Rare books, foreign food.

Dislikes: Foolishness or mischief.

 

Dane

Age: Unknown (Appears around 35)

Hair Color: Light blond with gray

Eye Color: Stormy gray

Height: 6”2

Weight: 160 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: Unknown

Deck: Archangel Deck

Personality: Serious and generally stern, Dane is known for his venerable temper and little tolerance for misbehavior.

Hobbies: Unknown

Likes: Oranges, the smell of leather.

Dislikes: Trickery, wasting his time.

 

===

 

NEXT Chapter:

 

An unexpected delivery, an encounter with destiny.

The bait is set.

 

Next Chapter: The Book With No Name, Part 1

 

[bury the year]

Thanks' date=' Rinne - I'm glad to hear that you like it. You wouldn't, by any chance, have joined our Forum, would you?! xD

[/quote']

 

Why, yes. Yes I did.

 

Aww' date=' you caught that? Oh, well. I'll try and think up some reasonable substitutes before Daisuke appears again, which won't be for a chapter or so.

[/quote']

 

Kurosawa. Means black mountain stream. It's close to the original.

[Saiba Aisu]

[spoiler=Chapter Three]

 

====

 

RESPONSE To Feedback:

 

Rinne: Oh, otre amant de le français! You have loved it, eh?

 

Yeah, I was a bit unsure about doing that so earlier in the story - it added a lot of pages to the chapter... But, still, I really couldn't cook up another scenario in which to explain her abilities under such pressure - Dane's "message" just seemed like the best time.

 

And don't count her out yet. Marren still has a few tricks up her sleeve, along with a few other interesting characters...

 

====

 

CHAPTER Three: The Book With No Name, Part 1

 

[align=justify]Daisuke sighed and sat back at his desk, stretching and yawning silently. He turned his head and looked out of the window, which was plastered with moisture. A raindrop splattered loudly against the pane, and his blue eyes traced its slow path down the glass and out of sight.

 

He turned his attention back to the desk, which was almost invisible under the many cards strewn across its surface. He looked at the top card of the pile and a preoccupied frown appeared on his face.

 

Although he had tried again and again to reinvent his Deck around Cyber Hero Captain Destiny, his efforts had not been very successful. Despite his best innovations and adjustments, the card just stubbornly refused to work for him – the same thing happened in all of his practice draws: whenever he finally managed to get everything set up for its summon, he seemed incapable of drawing it; on the other hand, whenever he lacked the pieces he needed to bring it out, the card seemed to come to his hand as if by magic.

 

Daisuke looked at the card exasperatedly, both amused and annoyed by its reluctance to work for him. Although the first results had not been encouraging, he was determined to make the card work. “Well,” he said dryly to himself, “this is one magic charm I can do without for now.” There was no reply – how could there be? The spiky-armored hero gazed at him out of the card as silently as ever.

 

I’ve been at this too long, Daisuke realized suddenly, scolding himself. Imagine, talking to cards like they could understand me! He looked back outside the dripping window and sighed. The sudden and unexpected summer rains had driven him indoors, where had struggled valiantly against boredom before caving in and working on his Deck seriously for the first time in weeks.

 

He picked up Cyber Hero Captain Destiny, his eyes cloudy as he remembered the mysterious circumstances under which he had received the card.

 

Who had that woman been, anyway? What had she really wanted? Had she come all the way to Neo Checker Town just to give him the card?

 

Daisuke flipped the card face-down and placed it carefully in a wooden drawer. The card, like the woman, remained a mystery. At least for now, anyways.

 

He stood, ruffling his sleep-tangled hair and looking around the room, which had the unfortunate, neglected air of a place that is not regularly occupied. This was, of course, completely true – Daisuke would never choose the indoors when blue skies beckoned, which tended to be most of the time.

 

Still, the skies outside remained as bleakly gray as they had all week, and poured down an endless shower of moist rain in apparent defiance of all normalcy.

 

“It appears that we’ve been hit by some unseasonal rains, folks,” the weather reporter had said, his glossy moustache quivering with consternation. “Expect heavy, humid rains throughout most of the days, and lighter showers at night. With any luck, we’ll have our blue skies back before Thursday.”

 

That had been Sunday, almost a week ago. Daisuke took a deep breath and decided that he had to go outside, if only for a moment – the gloomy silence in the room caused by the rain was stifling.

 

His father was working late tonight with a double shift, so Daisuke knew better than to expect him home until at least ten o’clock. Even when he did come home, Daisuke knew that he would find his father like he always seemed these days – tired, bleary-eyed, and blue-chinned with stubble. A quick shower and some leftovers were all he had time for before he sank back into an exhausted sleep, trying to desperately to get some rest before the next workday.

 

Daisuke felt – as he always did – a quick twinge of guilt when he thought of his father. Ever since his mother had died two years ago, his father had shouldered the burden of her absence and done his best to keep Daisuke fed, clothed, and somewhat educated. While Daisuke still missed his mother sometimes, especially on rainy days like these when he was forced to pace his thoughts, her death had hit his father the hardest.

 

Almost overnight, the laughter in Sakamoto Kurosaya’s eyes had faded, and his skin, once tanned and firmed by the sun, had begun to wrinkle. His mind, once so sharp, had begun to feel the ravages of age, and he had become feeble – he, who had once been so strong. In the blink of an eye, his father had become an old man, and something inside of Daisuke had died.

 

The teenager shook his head angrily, trying to throw off his gloomy thoughts, which were so uncharacteristic of his carefree, happy-go-lucky nature.

 

He began to quickly gather his cards together, urgency at going outside restored, and began piling them haphazardly together with more than a few of them ending upside down. As he plied the last card from his desk, his fingers brushed the wrinkled, still-glossy cover of a magazine, depicting a pale youth equipped with a sleek duel disk. A Summoned Skull card was plucked in between his two fingers, and a confident smirk was on his face.

 

He looked at it briefly – the May edition of Duel Monsters Monthly – and set it back down on the desk’s wooden surface. He had subscribed to the magazine a year ago, and received a new edition every month filled to the brim with information about new cards, dueling strategies, and advertisements for advanced duel disk models.

 

He glanced briefly at the empty mailbox in front of the house – the heavy rains had turned the country roads leading to Neo Checker Town to slush, and postal delivery trucks had been backed up into next week, at the very least.

 

He glanced back at the magazine cover, and a sudden course of action flashed through his mind. I’ll go and buy the magazine in town, he decided, as if he had planned the excursion all along. It’ll do me good to get out of the house and walk around. His mind flooded with unexplained relief, as if some greater being than he had settled his affairs for him.

 

He pocketed his cards and put on the hood of his sweatshirt, his mind already racing with new ideas about how to make Cyber Hero Captain Destiny work in his Deck.

 

He would go town, and buy the magazine from the bookstore on Bracegirdle Lane. He locked the front door and made his way across the soaked pavement of the tiny front yard, trying to remember the name of the bookstore.

 

He pushed open the gate, which creaked lustily behind him in the heavy rain, and a small smile appeared on his face as he began the short walk into town.

 

Morrow & Co., wasn’t it?

 

===

 

Marren smiled halfheartedly as the married couple left the bookstore, arguing happily about the merits of Shakespeare and his works. Their purchased bundles were hugged close to their chests against the pouring rain outside, and they were soon lost in the damp blur of the gray afternoon.

 

“Come again,” she murmured, although she could no longer see them, or they her.

 

She sat down briskly behind her desk, which had been restored to its usual order yesterday. Her pen moved boldly across the crisp white pages of her accounts as she marked down the sales of the day and added the new shipment of books to her inventory. It was good to be at work again, doing something practical. It was good that business was continuing, despite the unusual and miserable weather.

 

They probably won’t be so keen to buy books when the nice weather returns, the girl thought dryly, recording the surnames of the various authors in order. They might be queuing up to buy them when they’re forced inside by the rain, but they certainly won’t hang around when it clears up.

 

She sat up, her hand frozen around the pen, and a sleek brown tress falling over and down her face. And what will happen to me then? she wondered quietly, gazing around the bookshop, which seemed suddenly lonely and unfriendly.

 

The answer came quickly to her, unbidden, from the small honest voice in the back of her mind.

 

And then you’ll be that lonely girl again, it said unhelpfully. Marren’s green eyes were puzzled as she struggled with her thoughts.

 

Being the least analytical of people, she did not realize that she lacked human company – after all, what were people compared to the her real friends, the printed words on paper? In books, you found mercy, love, friendship, and adventure; books loved anyone and everyone who opened them. What need had she for any other companions?

 

Deciding that now was not the best time to think things over, she turned to the next page of the account book with a loud rustle that made her jump.

 

What’s the matter with me? she berated herself angrily. Her thoughts turned to the last weekend, when the mysterious stranger, Dane, had visited the shop and engaged her in a Duel. To be sure, she had won, but still…

 

Something about Dane’s visit had made her uneasy – she, Marren, who calmed the fears of others and chased their worries away with some common sense and a good book or two. The blond man had not said much that made any sense to her, but he had told her that she was in terrible danger, and that even now, powerful agents were searching for her.

 

What a bunch of nonsense, she thought dismissively, trying in vain to turn her attentions back to the accounts, and to the wonderfully practical world of business.

 

She glanced down and making a Herculean effort, scrawled down another surname in her close, neat hand on the first line of the blank page.

 

There was a loud, heavy knock at the door, and Marren looked up so quickly that she got a crick in her neck. Massaging her neck furiously, Marren swore under her breath and tried to calm her beating heart. She started towards the door clumsily.

 

Why bother knocking when the door’s unlocked? she fumed, angry at herself for reacting so pathetically to the abrupt knocking. The knocking came again, louder and more impatient than before.

 

“Yes, yes,” she called crossly, “I’m coming.” Her fingers fumbled with the worn brass doorknob and whoever stood outside knocked again, this time slowly – each knock a slow, prophetic twin to the staccato beat of Marren’s heart.

 

“Hold on!” the girl cried angrily, yanking the wooden door open. The unoiled hinges squealed in protest at the abrupt movement, and Marren flinched at the combined sound and the blurry, gray light that filtered through the open doorway, masked by a figure dressed in a neat black coat and matching boots that gleamed with rain.

 

Her eyes widened in shock and she recoiled slightly, her first thought was that Dane had returned once more. But as her eyes adjusted to the overcast, gloomy light, she saw that the man who stood before her was not he.

 

He was not nearly as tall as Dane, though he carried himself very straightly as if to make up for the fact. His hair was shorter, and was a shade of dull, almost-white blond that gave his pale face the appearance of a drowned person’s. Although he kept the brim of his hat low over his eyes, she could see that they were a shining gold-brown, like the gleam of polished copper.

 

Under his arm, he carried a tightly wrapped package – a rectangle, elegantly clad in a silky gold cloth and tied with a silvery satin ribbon. The colors of the wrapping seemed to swim before Marren’s eyes – at one moment, they appeared dull, the next, they seemed to shimmer with a hidden brilliance.

 

Marren instinctively pulled the door an inch shut, peering around its wooden frame at the stranger, who said nothing.

 

“Yes?” she asked, surprised at how calm she sounded. Anyone who heard her would have thought that she was simply addressing a new customer.

 

“Marren Hunter?” the man asked, his voice surprisingly deep and rich for his feeble countenance.

 

The girl nodded, some of her panic fading away. “Yes, that’s me,” she replied.

 

The man nodded briskly as if he were pleased. “Good. I have a package for you.” He hefted the thick rectangle with its gold-silk covering and trailing silver ribbon.

 

The girl seemed to frown, clearly uncomfortable. “A package? For me?” Her eyes raked the contours of the marvelously-wrapped gift the man held in his white, spider-like hands. “Is it a book?” she asked, making a guess by its size and shape.

 

The man gave a short laugh, not a very nice one. “Yes,” he murmured, his deep voice laden with some secret importance. “It is a book the likes of which you have never seen.”

 

The girl opened the door fractionally, clearly interested by the gift but struggling with common sense. The man watched her closely under the brim of his hat with narrowed eyes.

 

“There must be some mistake,” she grimaced, disappointment flooding her at the thought of not receiving the package – the book that went with that wrapping had to be truly remarkable! “I’ve already received my shipment of books for this month.”

 

The man smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This book is an especial gift for you, offered in friendship, and certainly not for sale.”

 

“A gift?” she asked, gazing questioningly at the man, who avoided contact with her strong gaze. “From who?”

 

“That I cannot tell you,” he said softly, “only that they are a friend to you, and have watched you and waited upon you since you came into this world.”

 

A damp mist rose around the man, speckling the girl’s face with droplets of moisture, although she made no move to brush them off, nor did she seem to notice their presence.

 

“Someone that has watched me since I was born…?” she murmured, unsure of what he meant.

 

Marren heard Dane’s words echo in her mind: “There are people searching for you that I pray you will never meet…”

 

Could this man be one of the people he had warned her against? Or was he only the harbinger of some greater danger that lurked unseen in the gathering shadows of her life?

 

Perhaps the man sensed her fear and reluctance, for he spoke urgently to her, his voice gilded and embellished with velvety tones of persuasion.

 

“Take it,” he urged, pressing the silk-covered tome into her trembling hands. The golden cloth felt unnaturally soft against her fingers. She looked up at him, her usually strong gaze clouded with confusion and the uncertainty that had suddenly sprung into her life.

 

She gazed into the pale man’s shining copper eyes for a moment, her mind floundering as if in a fog. Something was wrong about his eyes – they were too beautiful, too bright – and there was something depthless about them. She realized with a thrill of terror that she could not see her reflection in their depths.

 

“It is a special book,” he whispered, “meant only for a special girl.”

 

Marren felt curiosity rise inside her, blotting out her fear. She was not interested in the man’s flattery – she had seen far too many false sentiments in her short life to be fooled by that. No, it was the book that entranced her, and filled her with an exquisite feeling, both exciting and dangerous. This was one gift she could not refuse.

 

After all, she decided suddenly, it’s only a book… What harm could it possibly do?

 

The man regarded her in silence, and handed her the thick package in its shimmering gold-silk. She let out a little gasp as it dragged down suddenly at her hands – how could a book be so heavy? She struggled and pulled upwards, and the package’s sudden weight disappeared as quickly as it had come.

 

The man laughed and pulled the brim of his hat lower over his eyes. “Be at peace, little sister,” he said. “The Sans Veritas is now yours.” He uttered the strange words in harsh, throaty tones that sounded completely bizarre – like something from another language.

 

Marren could not find her tongue as the man tipped his hat respectfully and stepped back into the rain and swirling fog. He turned and began to walk back along the deserted road, his boots loud against the drenched, cobbled ground.

 

“Wait!” she called after him, her arms crossed and the package held close to her chest against the wet. “I didn’t get your name!”

 

The man did not look back, but she heard his ready reply. “I did not offer one!” he laughed. And within a moment, he had vanished from sight, and the sound of his steps was swallowed abruptly into the afternoon.

 

The girl watched him go, her face etched by shadow and the gray light from outside. When she could no longer see him, she turned numbly and pushed the door shut behind her. At that moment, she seemed to notice the rain on her face - she crossed the room and set the package down on her desk, careful not to wrinkle its fantastic wrappings.

 

She passed a slim hand over her face and wiped the rain away firmly, blinking as she did so. She turned and looked around the empty shop, her eyes skimming over the wooden shelves fit to burst with books. She glanced at the package on the desk, her mind tentatively exploring the strange man’s words as if they might burst at any moment.

 

A book unlike any other…? she thought, stroking the gold-silk cloth idly with a finger. She pushed the book to one side and sat down, her head in her hands, her mind working furiously.

 

She sat there for a moment, trapped between the gray uncertainty of her waking moments and the liquid clarity of her thoughts. But the moment did not last long – her eyes flickered back to the book through the gaps in her fingers.

 

The golden silk wrapping shimmered innocently. It was like a lodestone, drawing her thoughts and attentions to it with a single, secular will that frightened her.

 

“I’ll just open it and take a look,” she said aloud, her voice ringing around the empty bookshop. After all, she thought again, I won’t be able to concentrate on these accounts until I do…

 

Her hands seemed to move of their own accord to the package, and she grasped it carefully in both of them. Even through the covering, the book felt strangely warm – like it had lain in the noonday sun, just waiting for her to open it. A throaty hum seemed to fill the air as she stood and drew closer to it.

 

Her fingers stumbled as she unwound the silvery ribbon, and whispers seemed to float past her on an unseen breeze, sending invisible chills down her spine.

 

Open it, they urged. Open it!

 

“I’m trying,” she panted, unsure of whom she was talking to; lifting the ribbon and tossing it aside. “I’m trying!”

 

Open it! Open it! Open it! OPEN IT! The chant rose to a fever-pitch, the beat pounding in her temples.

 

With a final effort, she yelled and ripped the gold-silk covering off, holding it in her hand for a moment before letting it flutter gently to the ground. The chanting subsided into a sudden silence, and she stood there fighting for breath, her eyes wide and her hair plastered to her face with sweat.

 

The book was richer in appearance than she had imagined – its thick leather cover was encrusted with gold leaf in strange characters she had never seen before around the edges, and a golden clasp inlaid with ebony bound it shut from cover-to-cover, although she could catch a glimpse of several hundred tatty, weathered pages in between.

 

She stooped down curiously – reluctant to touch the book just yet – and glanced at the scarred spine of the book, her eyes searching in vain for a title, an author… anything.

 

The weathered cover of the book was uniform in its color and texture, unbroken by any significant set of characters.

 

Alright, she thought, grimacing slightly as she broke her promise. I’ll just take a look at the first page – that’s all. She looked back at the pages of the account books and vowed to finish recording the new additions to her inventory – just as soon as she took a quick look at the first page.

 

She reached out both hands, and her thumbs closed firmly around the corners of the book as she tried to drag it towards her.

 

Marren had only a moment to realize that something had gone horribly wrong - then her body clenched and spasmed in unimaginable agony as the most powerful electric shock she had ever felt clawed its painful way through her body.

 

Marren opened her mouth to scream, but her mouth was dry as sawdust; she couldn’t draw the air she needed to breathe. She convulsed and choked, her empty lungs straining for oxygen.

 

Oh my God…! she screamed to herself, feeling her body go terrifyingly numb to such agony. I’m dying! I’m dying!

 

The world seemed to swim before her eyes as a curtain of red dropped across her vision. She made one final effort and tried to pull back her hands from the book’s cover, but her thumbs seem fused to its leather surface.

 

Another vindictive shock, stronger than the first, tore through her body, streaming white hot rivulets of agony behind it.

 

Her eyes rolled back in her head as a series of images she barely had time to register flashed through her quickly-fading mind.

 

The black and orange hide of a tiger; the dripping jaws of a blinding blue-white dragon; a colorful, sparkling loom whose rainbow threads twitched in gentle harmony as the pattern was set…

 

And a red, rosy apple tumbling from the heavens and falling into a white and delicate hand; before the hand could grasp it, the apple’s flesh rotted to a sickening black, and the beautiful limb writhed in agony as its flesh was singed away, leaving only the charred bones behind.

 

I’m a fool, Marren thought bitterly, the last dim remnants of her consciousness slipping away, like raindrops down a window. The bookshop spun dizzyingly around her, suddenly filled with strange, ghostly figures she could not identify, and bursting with books that could do nothing but watch silently as she drew her last breath.

 

Her eyelids dropped with the mournful air of a performance’s last curtain. Her thumbs pulled free from the book’s leather cover as she began to fall slowly backwards from the desk, her light brown hair streaming behind her.

 

I only wish…

 

She hit the ground hard, sprawling gracelessly across the wooden floor with a final deafening thud, her outstretched hand landing on the shimmering, discarded gold-silk wrapping.

 

A last burst of light, and then darkness.[/align]

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite the apparent lack of any Dueling. As the Arc progresses, you will notice that chapters including Duels will alternate regularly with chapters that do not. This is to break the amount of Dueling in the first Arc into manageable chunks and to provide opportunities for dynamic characterization.

 

===

 

CARD List:

 

No new cards for this chapter.

 

===

 

GLOSSARY:

 

No new entries in the glossary for this chapter.

 

===

 

CHARACTER Profiles :

 

No new character profiles for this chapter.

 

===

 

NEXT Chapter:

 

A dark and blood-stained history.

A miraculous encounter, and a mysterious clue.

 

The Pattern weaves ever closer, ever tighter, and it has many threads.

 

Next Chapter: The Book With No Name, Part 2

 

[bury the year]

Hm. I'll consider it. I didn't expect for his surname to have any particular significance' date=' so I may do a bit of research into the matter before I make any changes.

 

I'll probably end up having his surname reflect his character, so some variant of the word 'dream' should be in there...

[/quote']

 

The only character I could find for "dream" is 夢, which can be read as "yume" or "kura".

 

Also, may I submit a character in the near future, if possible?

[Saiba Aisu]

[spoiler=Chapter Four]

 

====

 

RESPONSE To Feedback:

 

All Readers: Thank you so much for your continued support for Days of the Black Apple during all this time. It wasn’t easy to get back into writing after my exams ended and I was out of the habit, but your enthusiasm was motivation enough. This chapter may not be up to my usual standards, but I promise that I will make every effort to steadily improve as a writer.

 

====

 

CHAPTER Four: The Book With No Name, Part 2

 

[align=justify]Daisuke hurried through the pounding rain, his hands pushed firmly into the damp material of his sweatshirt. On either side of him, the dim streetlights of the town’s main boulevard cast eerie shadows on the brick-laid walls as dusk approached. Every few footsteps, the dark opening of an alley loomed hungrily, black and moist like the slavering mouth of some great animal.

 

Daisuke stumbled on the damp cobblestones, his feet dragging through the mud. He grimaced and looked around wildly in the gathering darkness. He was alone.

 

In that instant, he decided to run down the street – he knew where the bookstore was, and although he would rather die than admit it, the familiar scenery of the sleepy little town looked distinctly unfriendly at night. The same charming cul-de-sacs that gave it a comfortable, warren-like feel during the day now turned into what seemed like an endless maze, intent on sealing Daisuke inside their walls. He raced closer to what few lights remained, trusting and knowing that there would be safety among others.

 

His feet clattered against the wet cobbles and splashed through puddles clumsily, the hideous thought that he was being followed racing through his mind. He turned left, right, and then left again, his heart pounding with the animal instinct on the hunted. In the gloom, the mist felt like the ghastly breath of some dark creature on the back of his neck. Daisuke looked down at his feet, trying to make sure that he didn’t fall over anything as he sped faster and faster.

 

He closed his eyes as he imagined icy fingers reaching out to him, caressing him lovingly with the cold touch of the grave. Suddenly Daisuke’s floundering feet struck something in the dark, and he toppled forward to the ground, giving a loud yell that was quickly cut off.

 

He looked up, dazed from the blow and clutching his head. The wan golden lights of a tiny shop swam before him, and through the fogged glass, he could make out the tell-tale signs of further illumination, wavering like a candle. A weathered brass plaque hung from the wooden door with several letters etched boldly in glossy black across its surface. The boy squinted in the half-light as he made them out:

 

Morrow & Co., Bookshop

 

Daisuke got to his feet, feeling his head tenderly and letting out a groan as he felt a fine bruise coming on. It was then that the town’s clock beat out the first stroke of seven from its high tower. Daisuke jumped at the sound and looked back, his eyes sliding up the tallest structure in the town and raking the inky sky behind it.

 

At least it’s stopped raining, he thought, relief flooding through him as he noticed that the rain had vanished. Still, the sky was dark and starless, and it was getting late; the clock sounded the twelfth stroke with a final ring, and was silent. Daisuke turned back to the bookstore, the brass plaque glimmering at him expectantly in the dim streetlights.

 

In that moment, he made up his mind and strode forward. With one quick moment, he opened the wooden door and stepped into the bookshop, glad to be out of the sinister darkness if only for a moment. The door closed shut behind him with a muffled thud, its bells jingling merrily.

 

The boy looked about him, his eyes sliding across several tall bookcases that surrounded him. Each was made of fine, sturdy oak, laden with dust, and packed to the brim with cracked leather books. The air inside the shop seemed somehow heavier than outside, and Daisuke took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

The ancient floorboards groaned in protest as he turned one way and then the other, but it was no use – the shop appeared deserted. “Hello?” he called, hoping beyond hope that a bumbling, wrinkled old bookkeeper would appear. Daisuke cocked his head, so sure was he that someone would reply – but there was nothing. The same wavering light he had seen outside danced slowly on the walls, throwing some parts of the bookshop into relief while others were swathed in shadow.

 

Daisuke started down the first aisle of bookcases, each footstep extracting a resounding groan from the wooden floor. He kept to the middle of the aisle and looked about him, as if convinced that someone or something would leap from the shadows.

 

Although the bookcases were tall, they were few, and soon he had explored each of their dark expanses. He turned around the edge of the final bookcase, disappointment curling in his stomach like some heavy snake. Then he spotted the source of the wavering illumination – a tall white candle set in a brass holder flickered from atop a crowded desk, strewn with creamy-paged books.

 

In the half-lit gloom, the candle’s pale surface seemed like a bone-white finger, thrusting from the desk and pointing eerily at the ceiling. Daisuke stepped forward, his knees swallowed by the shadows gathered at the base of the desk. He couldn’t see where he placed his feet or if anything was on the floor. The weak candlelight danced around him as he pushed slightly against the desk’s wooden surface with irritation.

 

Even in the weak light, he could see that the desk was empty, and had been for a while. The candle burned ever lower on its wick, and Daisuke could see by the liquid wax in its holder that it had been burning for a long time – whoever had vacated the desk must have left it alight before they left.

 

Some warning prickled against the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside. Typical, he frowned, standing back up from the desk. I come all the way here through pouring rain, nearly kill myself on the street outside, and then venture through this creepy bookshop for nothing? No way!

 

Disappointment spread across his tongue, bitter and stale. He cast one final look around the bookshop, but it seemed as empty as before.

 

What an old dump, Daisuke thought uncharitably, irritated with himself for how he had behaved tonight. Venturing out in the rain and running through muddy streets like he was being chased… surely no sane person would do that – in fact, it was laughable.

 

It serves me right, the boy decided. I’ll just have to wait for my order to come in... He turned and took a step away from the desk, the candlelight framing his shadow on the wall in front of him. The same warning shot through his thoughts, and he wheeled back around, suddenly dizzy.

 

Why leave a candle burning with all these books around? he asked himself, glancing around feverishly at the cracked leather books. Surely the bookkeeper would not have been so negligent as to make such a mistake?

 

He grasped the candle by its brass holder and lifted it, trying to throw light into the shadows around the shop. Something glimmered on the desk, and his fingers reached out and grasped it. He drew it close to his face and the light – it was satin ribbon, glossy and of a striking silver hue.

 

I’m losing my mind, he thought, setting it gently back down on the desk. Jumping to all these conclusions… it’s ridiculous. The bookkeeper probably forgot to put out the candle, that’s all.

 

His mind agreed heartily with him, satisfied with this reasonable explanation – still, he could not seem to shake off the rising sense of nausea inside him. It’s this creepy bookshop, he decided. I can barely breathe in here. I’ve got to get out! His mind filled with a sudden longing for the cool night air, and he set the candle back down distractedly on the desk atop a thick, ancient-looking tome with a black leather cover.

 

From its new position, the candle threw light onto the ground around the desk, and the boy caught a second shimmer of color from the corner of his eye. Fully expecting to find another ribbon, he stooped down to pick it up. As he squinted down at it, he realized that it was a lavish gold-silk cloth, such as the kind that expensive packages were delivered in.

 

His forefinger gently tapped the cloth, and he marveled at its velvety softness. He crouched down to pick it up and pulled; it slid slightly closer to him and then stopped, as if held down by some unseen pressure.

 

Exasperated, the boy dropped to his knees, prepared to lift the foot of the desk off the cloth. He inched his head around the corner of the desk, his eyes scanning the darkness for whatever was holding the cloth down.

 

A pale shimmer of color caught his eye, and he saw what had been holding the gold-silk cloth down. At first, Daisuke did not register what he was seeing – the gentle curve of the fingers, the extended wrist, and the flash of ivory flesh disappearing into a green sleeve.

 

Then it struck him. “Oh my God!” he yelled, recoiling and springing back to his legs. He grasped blindly for the candlestick in the darkness, fingers closing around it desperately and raising it into the air.

 

===

 

Marren thought she was dead, a nameless specter trapped in a cloud of swirling gray mists. It was a spasm of dull skull-splitting pain that convinced her otherwise. She shuddered and felt the edge of cold stone cutting into her from below. Realizing that she was lying on the ground, she got to her feet unsteadily, even this small exertion almost more than she could bear. She tried to draw a breath, and found to her surprise that she could. She inhaled greedily, drinking in the scent of the dusty air around her as if she could never have enough.

 

After she had breathed to her heart’s content, she looked curiously about her, unsure of where she was. Although the mist was thick, it only swirled around her knees, so that she could not see where she placed her feet or if anything was hiding in the ground fog. Above her, she could make out the stately lines of high granite walls and arched steeples, such as a church might have. Every few feet, tall narrow windows set in the walls poured dim, colorful light, frothing with dust motes. On closer inspection, she saw that the glass was of the finest cut, polished into fantastic shades of blue, red, and green. The girl instinctively sensed that this was a solemn and sacred place.

 

She started forward slowly, her clumsy feet dragging across the stone floor. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall, gripping its ancient stones tightly for strength. The last she could remember before this place was the Book – the Sans Veritas. She had been struck down by the overwhelming agony after touching it, and then she had fallen into the inky darkness of merciful unconsciousness.

 

She closed her hands into weak fists, feeling both of her thumbs pulse with intense soreness. A fleeting flash of the book’s mysterious deliverer flashed through her mind, a brief glimpse of his shining copper eyes and deathly pale face. She felt hatred dance bitterly across her tongue on tired feet. She cursed him silently with what little strength she had left, and herself too – her damned curiosity had been what had gotten her here in the first place.

 

She continued her feeble trek, clutching the wall for support as she went. The mist-filled hall seemed endless to her, and a nameless panic rose in her and clawed at her throat. Was she to be trapped here forever?

 

“Marren.”

 

The girl whirled around and bit back a scream as someone spoke from behind her. There was no one there. She strained her eyes into the gloom, but she could not see anyone. She was alone.

 

“Marren!”

 

The voice came again from behind her, demanding this time, and layered with deep, ringing tones. She spun around again, her blood turning to ice-water when she could not see the speaker.

 

“Where are you?” she cried out, backing against the wall in fear.

 

“I am everywhere,” the voice replied, and the words seemed to come from the air all around her, echoing and swirling sibilantly through the mist. She could not tell its gender, although she hazarded a guess that it was male.

 

“What do you want from me?” the girl demanded, not sure where to look or whom to address. She compromised by staring straight ahead, tossing her head boldly while trying to slow her pounding heart.

 

“I do not want anything from you that you cannot freely give to me,” it said. “I know what your limits are, and what you can and cannot do – I have known you since the dawn of your life.”

 

A prickle of unease spread across the back of Marren’s neck – there was conviction in that voice. Whoever is speaking has known me all my life?, she thought, fear mixing with her uncertainty. Could this mysterious speaker be the same person Dane had cautioned her against so urgently, or could it be the person the copper-eyed man had spoken of?

 

She no longer knew whom to trust – it seemed like her life had been suddenly thrown into relief, and every decision was sculpted into something overly complex multi-faceted.

 

She decided to play for time while she found a way to get out – if there was one. She strained her features into a casual mask, her green eyes reassuming their characteristic unfazed look. She edged one foot against the wall, feeling along it and shifting her weight subtly. A few more steps, and then she would run.

 

“Who are you?” she asked, keeping her head high and her gaze studiedly away from her slowly-moving feet.

 

“Do you not know me?” the voice asked, somehow amused and reproachful at the same time. Marren bristled angrily at its patronizing tone, all her courage coming back to her in one breath.

 

“No,” she said flatly. “I don’t.”

 

“I AM,” the voice roared, its tone escalating into a terrifying crescendo that echoed impossibly loudly in the confined space.

 

Marren screamed and threw her hands over her head as the all of the colorful windows shattered, their sparkling, jagged colors strewing the cold stone floor with countless clinks. The dim, colorful light disappeared, and she was left once more in the dark with the mist swirling around her.

 

She looked about wildly, biting back a scream and unsure of where to run – how can you run from something you can’t see?

 

“There, there, child,” the voice said, not unkindly. “I did not mean you any harm. I had forgotten how sensitive you humans are.”

 

The colorful glass on the floor clinked suddenly and moved of its own accord. The girl sprang back against the wall and gasped in disbelief as an exquisite butterfly, fashioned entirely of iridescent blue and green glass, blazed a lazy trail around her, quickly followed by several others, each a fantastic blaze of color. She was entranced – never had she seen anything so beautiful.

 

As one, the glass butterflies spun around her in a dizzying spiral of noise and color. Marren found herself laughing in delight like a small child, her fears melting away into the shadows.

 

“See?” the voice said. “I make all things new.”

 

The blue-green glass butterfly alighted on her finger and flapped its fragile wings slowly with a gentle noise like someone tapping against a window. Tiny particles of mica swirled around its opaque body like stars.

 

“Now, child,” the voice continued in a much brisker tone, “our time is short, and there is much you must know.”

 

===

 

“Wake up! Wake up!” Daisuke yelled, gripping the girl’s shoulders and shaking her furiously. Her pale face lolled slowly on her neck at his exertions, but she gave no sign of awakening. He slapped her face gently twice, and then drew back slightly—her skin was icy to the touch, as if she'd been lying in the snow.

 

Don't be dead, he thought frantically, casting a desperate glance around the dimly-lit bookshop for something he could use to revive the girl. The candle's wavering light showed nothing but books, books, and more books - some thicker than the bibles, others as slim as a magazine. Don't be dead, he repeated to himself, as it by making it a mantra he could somehow save the girl. Yet deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew he could do nothing for her - even if he had the proper equipment, he had no idea how to use it.

 

With a frustrated sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, he sat back on the floor, crossing his legs over the other. "Damn it," he swore, "I knew I should've paid more attention in health class..." His voice trailed off pensively as he struggled to recall what few things he had learned in school about First Aid. Perhaps if he checked her pulse?

 

He quickly, almost guiltily, glanced sideways at the girl spread-eagled on the floor next to him. She was pretty, he supposed, with light brown hair that fell halfway to her elbows and a slender figure. She was dressed in a white tank top with a long-sleeved green shirt underneath and jeans, which seemed appropriate considering the weather outside. He wondered briefly what color her eyes were, but her eyelids were closed. If she hadn't been so cold, he would have thought she was sleeping.

 

Making his mind up in an instant, he reached over and grasped her wrist gently, his fingers straining to feel a pulse. Her skin was pleasantly smooth against his clumsy fingers, but try as he might, he couldn't feel a pulse. Panic flared in him suddenly, as if he had lost something indescribably precious. He staggered to his knees and crouched over her, his hands moving over her arms and face, searching for the telltale feel of moving blood.

 

"Goddamn you!" he yelled, his voice muffled in the eerie silence of the dark bookshop. He thought the girl might have stirred, but it could have been the flicker of the candlelight. A momentary despair seized him, and his hands moved fluidly over her breasts, searching for a pulse. He pushed once, twice, as if the girl had been drowned and he were struggling to expel whatever ailed her - expel it, and let her lungs fill with the sweet scent of life.

 

He placed both his hands on her, pushing down hard, struggling mutely against the insurmountable hold of death. And, of course, just as he pushed down, the girl's eyelids flickered, and she blinked. Her eyes were clear, steely, and very green. In a flash, she sat up, Daisuke's hands still trailing numbly from her chest. He gasped silently next to her, simultaneously torn between relief that she was alive and a hot flush of embarrassment. Presently, the girl became aware of a foreign pressure on her chest, and she glanced down indignantly at the boy's hands.

 

Daisuke opened his mouth to try and explain, but a half-hearted dry moan escaped his lips instead. He closed his eyes and flinched, expecting an outraged shriek. After a moment, he opened them again gingerly. But to his surprise, the girl nodded patiently, as if she'd understood everything he'd meant to say. Gently, she removed his hands from her shirt and placed them on his lap. He looked up, incredulous and hopeful. Then her closed fist flew forward and struck him squarely on the bridge of his nose. With a howl, Daisuke rolled backwards, his hands flying to cradle his face.

 

"That should teach you to go groping people," she spat angrily, "pervert!" She got to her feet gracefully and began to pat herself off from the dusty floor. Then, spotting that the boy had not fled, she took a step forward, her fist raised threateningly.

 

"I'm not a pervert!!" Daisuke roared weakly, still on the floor clutching his nose. "I came in here for a second because the lights were on outside, and I found you lying on the floor and was checking you for a pulse!" he babbled, speaking in a single breath. Confusion fluttered across the girl's malachite green eyes, darkening them with sudden understanding and regret.

 

"Oh my God!" she breathed, sinking down next to him, her hands outstretched helplessly. Seeing that she could do nothing to ease his pain, she compromised by patting his shoulder gently instead.

 

After a moment, the boy lowered his hands from his face slowly, wincing as he did so. He looked over at the girl, who was watching him bemusedly. "I think you may have broken my nose," he said conversationally, by way of introduction. "That was a good punch."

 

A reluctant smile tugged at the girl's face and then spread as she laughed lightly. "I'm sorry," she said in a much more serious tone, "but you were the one groping me."

 

The boy gave her an exhausted smile. "I told you," he said, "I wasn't groping you... Just trying to make sure you were okay." He sat up as a sudden thought occurred to him. "You are okay, aren't you?"

 

A shadow passed over the girl's face at his question, but she answered readily enough with words, even though he suspected that they weren't the right ones. "Yes," she replied, "I'm fine now." She eyed him silently for a moment, before saying dryly, "You're not like any of the other perverts I've met," she said. "I suppose I should thank you, though."

 

He sat up and flexed his arms off-handedly. "It was nothing," he said casually. Now that the girl was awake and everything explained, he felt the beginnings of self-confidence returning to him.

 

"What's your name, anyways?" she asked, cutting him from his private reverie.

 

"Daisuke Kurosaya," he said, accompanying it with a quick and respectful lowering of the head as was custom. He looked up and flashed her a quick and friendly grin.

 

"I'm Marren," the girl replied, placing a spread hand gently against her white shirt.

 

"Marren Hunter."[/align]

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes: This chapter was intended to be a bit of a dramedy-scene, one that combines humor with either drama or seriousness. Normally, it costs me a lot to write comedy scenes, but it’s something that I’d like to work and improve on as the story progresses. Hopefully you enjoyed this Chapter… Rather, you’d better have enjoyed this Chapter – it took me a long while to write it up.

 

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CARD List:

 

No new cards for this chapter.

 

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GLOSSARY:

 

No new entries in the glossary for this chapter.

 

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CHARACTER Profiles :

 

No new character profiles for this chapter.

 

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NEXT Chapter:

 

A foul encounter, touched by the threads of destiny.

The signs of disaster are sewn and set.

 

The Pattern weaves and begins to take shape.

 

Next Chapter: The Weaver, Part One

 

[bury the year]

Kurasaya? "Dream bright", literally. (夢明)

 

Also, I'll get the character to you sometime this week.

 

EDIT: My charry has landed. :D

[Saiba Aisu]

[spoiler=Chapter Five]

 

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RESPONSE To Feedback:

 

All Readers: Thank you so much for your continued support for Days of the Black Apple during all this time, and for your extraordinary patience bearing with me as I finally got around to working on the next chapter, which should be a little longer than normal.

 

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CHAPTER Five: The Weaver, Part One

 

A sighing wind picked up, winding its way over the cobbled streets of Neo Checker Town, tugging at the chilly mist with slender, invisible fingers. The few unfortunates going about their business shivered and turned up their collars against the sudden and unseasonal cold, muttering darkly about the weather. And, in all honesty, their sullen remarks were perfectly well-earned.

 

For the past few weeks, the summer skies has remained stubbornly dismal, providing constant and generous amounts of rain and producing a damp, nasty mist that chilled to the bone and refused to dissipate, as if in defiance of all normality. That same mist wound sinuously over the prettily red-tiled rooftops and drifted slowly south across the town, clouding windows with its ghastly breath in passing, and pressing hungrily against the panes of a modestly large shop with a wooden awning, which bore the words, “Threadgoode Weavers” in clipped letters, and below that, a plucky little sign reading, “We sell it, we sew it.”

 

While the street in front of the shop was all but deserted, the windows were brightly, if crudely, lit, as it to welcome potential customers. Inside the store, a handsome woman in a dull but well-cut gray linen coat drummed her fingers impatiently against the wooden surface of her desk. Around her, several women bent forwards over their work, straining their eyes tiredly in the darkness.

 

The interior of the shop was large and decently furnished, with a maroon carpet underfoot and a dozen identical wooden desks where the other women embroidered. Had the lights been turned on, a visitor would have immediately felt at home in the shop; as it was now, shrouded in shadows and with the cold moisture from the mist and rain outside pressing against the windows, it was all some of the women could do from springing up, hitching up their skirts, and taking their chances outside in the damp.

 

“What’s taking them so long?!” the first woman barked, slamming her clenched fist against her desk with a loud thud. A few of the younger women jumped at the sound and pricked themselves sharply with their sewing needles; one or two let out what might have been a small cry of exasperation and tossed her reproachful looks.

 

The woman’s eyes flashed lightning as they swiveled angrily across the room. “Is there a problem, ladies?” she asked, dangerously softly. Most of the women turned intently back to their work, eager to avoid a conflict with the shop’s blunt-tongued owner, and knowing better than to instigate one.

 

“You bet there's a problem!” one of them exclaimed indignantly from the front row of desks, a bold-looking girl with large, liquid eyes and a dark complexion. “This is the fifth time I’ve pricked myself today,” she said, pouting prettily. “If we could just turn on all the light—” The first woman stood suddenly, pushing her chair back with a dull scrape and clutching her desk with powerful hands, as if to support her. A few of the younger women let out weak groans, but they knew well enough to not stop working.

 

“I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Clarissa Frayne!” she roared at the girl who had spoken, striding across the room with remarkable grace for a woman so stout. As she moved, light and shadow chased each other across her face, until at last she stood in front of Clarissa, who looked half-ready to rise from her in defiance.

 

Few would have called Ivy Threadgoode beautiful, and they have been being generous with their praise if they had. From her wiry hair, pulled back into a severe bun of brown, to her crisp and sensible shoes, she looked, and was, a disciplined woman of frugal tastes. Still, there was something in the way she carried herself, and the way she regarded the world through dark eyes that seemed to demand much in return. If not an appreciation of her beauty, well, then, that was fine—respect bordering on holy terror did just as well most of the time. Much better, in fact.

 

“You know very well that full lighting is reserved for paying customers only,” she said murderously, towering over the girl. Behind her, a simple but powerful hanging light illuminated half of the room in a strong glow, while the half in front of her lay in semi-gloom, dark save for a few wavering candles, with whose light the women struggled to sew.

 

“Do you see any customers?” Madam Threadgoode demanded, slamming her large hands against the girl’s low desk, upsetting pins and spools which quickly rolled off the smooth surface and out of sight. Ivy Threadgoode was not a tall woman, but at times like these, she seemed quite the opposite. Clarissa, however, remained motionless, her mouth firmly closed.

 

“Answer me, you fool girl!”

 

“No, Madam Threadgoode,” the girl replied, almost sullenly. Perhaps the older woman noticed her tone, for she took a deep breath and expanded her considerable bosom with righteous fury. “I’m sure your pretty paws are a damn sight too good to sew like the rest of these women!” She gestured broadly around her at the others, most of whom wisely kept their heads down in a semblance of activity.

 

“If you want to work ‘with the lights on’, then be my guest, and pay the unnecessary bill that comes with it!” Madam Threadgoode roared, her face growing steadily redder as she worked herself into a fine fury. Most women would have long-since folded up quietly in two, but Clarissa was a bold one, and her courage hadn’t deserted her quite yet.

 

“You know what I think?” the girl asked, rising from her seat heatedly, her eyes flashing and meeting the other woman glare for glare. “I think that you should go and stuff your bloated—” Clarissa’s voice died off as yet another girl near her gripped her arm and shook her head. She gave her an angry glance and tried to pull her arm away. “Not now, Caroline,” she hissed, although her comment was drowned out by a terrifying bellow from Madam Threadgoode, sounding for all the world like a wounded rhino charging into battle.

 

“You copper-skinned bag of chicken guts!” she roared, swinging her arms around her wildly, and lowering her head as if she actually meant to charge the girl. “I’ll strangle you with my bare hands! You, you serpent-tongued piece of—no, that’s not right, you’re worse than serpent-tongued! You impudent little, you…!” Madam Threadgoode stamped her feet angrily against the wooden floor, working herself into the most marvelous rage as words terrible enough to describe Clarissa failed her. Fortunately, neither she nor anyone else ever knew what she intended to call her at that moment, for the other girl who had grabbed Clarissa’s arm before stood, her blue eyes gently firm, but firm all the same.

 

This girl was as different from Clarissa as it was possible to be. Where the fiery dark-skinned girl was short and upright, like a poplar, she was tall, slender, and pale with porcelain skin that shone to perfection, like a graceful weeping willow. The curtain of black hair framing a gentle face only heightened the resemblance to a weeping willow; the silky tresses swayed fitfully as she rose, like the drooping leaves of the tree in the wind. Unlike the irritable Madam Threadgoode, many would have called her beautiful, though she would not have known how to respond, nor how to distinguish their heartfelt praise from simple flattery.

 

“Please, Madam Threadgoode,” she said worriedly, moving to stand in front of Clarissa, as if she could somehow protect her friend from the shop owner’s fury that way. “You mustn’t go upsetting yourself over such a trivial thing, you really mustn’t.” The older woman heaved harshly in reply, each exhalation an angry grunt. Some of her wiry hair had sprung free from its bun, coiling wildly around her ears and giving her the appearance of a madwoman.

 

“I’m sure that Clarissa didn’t mean to upset you,” Caroline continued, so softly that her remark was in danger of going unheard. “She was merely expressing her concerns that the lack of proper lighting might affect her embroidering, weren’t you, Clarissa?” The outraged look of disbelief that the other girl gave her was enough to convince even the most skeptical that that was certainly not what she had been going to say, but Madam Threadgoode didn’t notice.

 

“In fact,” she added, “I’m so glad that Clarissa has realized her mistake, and that she’s willing to offer you an apology for this misunderstanding.” Clarissa’s eyes were likely to pop out of her head rather than to drop meekly in apology, but Caroline gave her a meaningful glance, and the coppery-skinned girl had no choice. She cleared her throat disgustedly, and tried to draw the rags of dignity around her once more.

 

“I apologize for my behavior, Madam Threadgoode,” she said, tossing her head imperiously and settling gently onto her chair, agreeing with the other woman as if she were a queen distributing favors. She might as well have shouted, for her gentle tone fetched her no good graces with the shop owner, who merely grunted in agreement before striding back to her desk.

 

As she walked back, Clarissa frowned and stuck her tongue out mutinously at the woman’s retreating figure. “Old cow,” she muttered angrily, tossing her head again before bending back to her work. Nearby, Caroline sank back into her own seat, her blue eyes flicking between the two women anxiously. “You shouldn’t say those things, Clarissa,” she whispered, craning over her own needlework. “They’re not true, and they’re so unkind.”

 

Clarissa crossed her arms rebelliously and muttered something under her breath that sounded remarkably like “bah”. At the same time, Madam Threadgoode reached her desk and sunk into her leather chair with poor grace and a muffled “bah”, evidently worn out from her exertions. Still, she must have felt their eyes on her, for she quickly sat up, her back painfully straight and her face stern, despite the wiry strands of hair curling at her temples and forehead. Ivy Threadgoode was not the type to treat her employees familiarly, and even if she had been alone, Caroline very much doubted that she would have displayed any weakness at all.

 

Ivy muffled a slight sigh, enjoying the few moments of quiet and rest. The other women worked with a studied earnestness, craning forward over their work, needles flashing with considerable speed. The stressed atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife, but if the woman noticed, she certainly didn't let on.

 

“That’s enough out of all you for today,” she said curtly after a while, clasping her hands. With a single movement, the women stood, their benches scraping against the floor. Spools, needles, and pins were carefully tucked into embroidery boxes, fabrics of all colors and sheens were folded neatly and tucked into drawers, while unfinished pieces were spread gently on desktops, or hung on pegs. Madam Threadgoode watched them, her handsome face poorly concealing impatience. Finally, impatience won over composure, and she barked, “Well, don’t take all day with it! Get out, get out! I want to see you early next week, and well-rested, all of you!”

 

The women took her blunt commands in stride, noticeably hurrying the pace at which they were working. Not for the first time, Caroline marveled quietly at the way Madam Threadgoode commanded respect and obedience from everyone around her, including a few women older than she was.

 

Stop that, Caroline thought, mentally rebuking herself. Ivy Threadgoode isn’t old, she amended, trying to be charitable. She’s just a bit…severe, is all. Although her employer was only a handful of years older than her, her demeanor and air of command were that of a much older woman, one who tolerated no nonsense and took the respect of others for granted as much as the very air she breathed.

 

Across the room, Ivy Threadgoode stifled a miserable sigh, only too aware of the obstinate curls at her temples that had somehow managed to escape her bun. It had been a miserable failure of a day, filled with the dismal gloom that only constant rain and chilling mist could bring. Not a single customer in the entire damned day, either. An hour or so earlier, a balding, skinny man in a pair of oversized spectacles had entered the room, and she had fairly jumped at the prospect of a paying customer—of course, the man had taken a single glance around the room and its discontented occupants before mumbling something unintelligible about entering the wrong shop by mistake. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that she had saved some money by using only half of the shop’s lighting, but it was a small comfort compared to the extraordinary amount of complaining the other women had done.

 

She shifted in her chair, trying to tuck some of the more rebellious curls behind her ears without being noticed. God, but she was tired. It was all she could do to mumble a few civil replies to the various nervous farewells she received from her employees, most of whom were fairly dancing to get out of the room. The last woman cleared away, and she noticed that Caroline had not risen from her desk, but was instead sewing furiously at a red silk dress, needles flashing halfheartedly in the semi-gloom.

 

Ivy regarded the girl across the room for a moment, taking in her pale, perfect skin, her gentle, elegant hands, and her soft blue eyes. She stifled another sigh. Someday, Caroline Lace would make some man a beautiful wife, if only she could be confident in herself. Not for the first time, Ivy’s dark eyes lingered on Caroline’s sensible and nondescript clothing, which, although far from enhancing her considerable natural charms, did absolutely nothing to reduce them. For the love of God, the girl could make a tattered sack look like the latest fashion!

 

She spared a moment from the girl and glanced at herself, her heavy hands and almost asexual coat, and a deep flush crept over her face. Next to Caroline, she was like a ragged, motley-feathered crow, cawing hoarsely for attention while everyone’s eyes were drawn almost instantly to the quiet, creamy-skinned swan in the corner. Ivy thought she would have been able to bear the contrast a little better if the girl was spiteful, or cowardly, but she was neither. Diligent to a fault, gentle, and always unfailingly considerate of the pleasures of others rather than her own, more like.

 

Of course the girl had to be a damned angel, she thought bitterly, feeling ashamed and yet taking pleasure in punishing herself for thinking badly of her. The girl had been nothing but useful since she had appeared in town a few months ago, renting a room with Clarissa’s family and quietly but firmly applying for work at the shop. Ivy had originally been skeptical that such a dreamy girl would be able to sew worth her weight, but from the moment Caroline’s slim fingers had touched the needle, only perfection had followed. Ivy had made a few inquiries into the girl’s past, asking for other employers, family, a hometown—anything. But in that she had underestimated Caroline, who had politely refused to answer any of her questions and had tactfully redirected the conversation to more pleasant subjects, although Clarissa had told everyone she could get to listen that the girl was running from memories of a tragic romance.

 

Ivy shrugged good-naturedly, her mind overly practical as always. So long as the girl’s work continued to be extraordinary, then she would see to it that the girl stayed here, even if it she had to force her into the chair and thrust a needle into her hand.

 

"What's the matter, Caroline? Not going home?" she asked, less patiently than she might have, given the circumstances.

 

Caroline looked up from her work, her fingers edged with fine red threads of silk as she tightened the sleeves of a lowcut dress absentmindedly. "Oh, this?" the girl asked, indicating the scandalous thing. "Well," she said, "it won't take long to finish, and it just seems a shame to leave it unfinished until next week..."

 

Ivy gave a noncommittal grunt that could have meant anything and stood, sliding her chair back into place. Next thing you knew, the girl would be sewing for orphans and nursing the elderly at their bedsides.

 

"Alright," she said, turning towards the door. "Just make sure you put everything away - neatly, mind you! - and lock up after yourself." She turned the knob and opened the door onto the street, where the drifting mist had transformed into an eerie fog that hugged the ground zealously like clouds.

 

Ivy glanced at her feet with an outraged look; thanks to the fog, her ankles were abruptly cut off from view. "Step in every puddle from here to home, I expect," she muttered dryly, unaware of the conspiratorial smile that passed between the two girls behind her.

 

Clarissa cleared her throat and called out, "Madam Threadgoode, can we please work with the lights on next week?"

 

The older woman turned, and something like a wry smile crossed her handsome features. "If you want to work with light next week, girls, you'd better get on your knees and pray for clear and sunny skies. Now, good night to both of you." She chuckled dryly and began to move off into the mist, while inside the shop, Clarissa made a scathing noise and tried not to roll her eyes as she strode to shut the door—the resulting combination made her look distinctly cross-eyed.

 

Madam Threadgoode could have gone no further than twenty paces when a loud honk fit to wake the dead bellowed through the fog, followed almost immediately by a woman's angry shout. The two girls looked at each other in shock.

 

"You don't think—" Caroline began, her blue eyes wide. "Come on!" Clarissa cried, dragging her out of the chair and onto the damp cobbled road. Unseen puddles splashed loudly under their feet as they ran, each calling out into the mist for the shop owner.

 

The two girls paused more or less at the same time, hearts pounding, not from their exertion, but from fear at what might have befallen Madam Threadgoode. For a moment, Caroline was worried that the mist had swallowed their cries, but as they moved forward, they could hear a familiar voice shouting angrily.

 

"...Never seen such disgraceful driving in my life! ...Just who in the blue hell do you think you are?!"

 

With a sigh and a sudden sweep, the mist drew aside like a curtain, revealing a gleaming black limousine parked at a rakish angle near the curb, just short of a lamppost, which cast a wan, weary light over the scene.

 

Hands on hips, tangles of wiry curls at her ears, and a quickly reddening face, Ivy Threadgoode had never looked angrier. The two girls gave relieved cries of "Madam Threadgoode!" when they saw that she was unharmed, but to Ivy they might as well have been the lamppost, for she took no notice of them.

 

"Open this door immediately!" she roared, pounding on the hood of the vehicle with one hand. Behind the tinted glass, Caroline could make out someone moving fretfully, but sure enough, the door opened, and a figure stepped out onto the road.

 

Caroline's first impression was that it was a distinctly male figure, dark-skinned, faceless, his body oddly-portioned with a much too thick torso and thick arms. However, as he stepped into the light, she blinked and saw that she couldn't possibly have been right.

 

The man was dressed all in black, like a chauffeur of some sort, Caroline supposed, but his thin face was powdered deathly white. Atop his head he wore a tall, black-topped hat that looked at least twenty years out of fashion. He turned jerkily to face the three women, but did not seem to see them; his eyes were half-lidded and unfocused.

 

Ivy pounced upon him like a lioness, seizing him roughly by the collar of his coat and shaking him furiously.

 

"You madman!" she raged, buffeting him back and forth. "Do you have any idea just how close you came to killing me? Do you?!"

 

The man gave no reply, and his body moved limply as she shook him, as if he no longer had the energy or inclination to move it himself.

 

"Um, Madam Threadgoode...?" Clarissa ventured, watching the shop owner shake the powdered man within an inch of his life while maintaining a constant stream of oaths and swear words that would have made even the worst sailor cringe. "I don't think we're getting anywhere with this," she said, cutting across the older woman's animated monologue.

 

Ivy stopped shaking him and gave the man a rough look, then let go of his collar with a disgusted noise. The man dropped unsteadily to his feet, and then straightened jerkily, like a marionette whose strings had been poorly fastened.

 

"You're right for once, girl," Ivy said, tossing him a contemptuous glance. "We'll get no answers out of him."

 

There was a flutter of movement at the backseat window, as if a pale face were briefly peering outside. Ivy tried to give the man an intimidating smile, but the result was more like a sour grimace.

 

"Perhaps your passenger will be more willing to talk," she said, turning towards the door with the air of a fencer withdrawing his blade from one opponent to another. She began to move bodily towards the door, quite ready to rip it off its hinges if the passenger inside did not open first.

 

Caroline took a step closer as she went, while at the same time, the powder-faced man did the same, his movements mirroring hers. The girl stopped with a startled look at the man that quickly turned to a chill as she saw that he looking dully at her, seeing, yet unseeing at the same time. It had to be a coincidence, it just had to be.

 

All too aware of his unwavering and unwanted attention, she took a sudden step back towards Clarissa, drawing her shawl around her protectively as she did so. Sure enough, the man moved accordingly, his gaze never leaving her face.

 

Putting the frightening man out of her mind, Caroline realized with a dim start that Madam Threadgoode was pounding on the door of the car, calling out angrily, "You have until the count of three, or I'm tearing this door down!!" In her present state, the older woman looked more than capable of it.

 

"One... Two..."

 

With a flash of dark metal, the door opened silently. Madam Threadgoode's voice died off as a pair of gleaming black boots appeared, followed immediately by a pair of almost indecently shapely legs, and above that... It was a woman, slender, of medium height, with flashing dark eyes and inky black hair that fell in gleaming, oiled tresses past her shoulders. She wore a tightly-fitting black gown with a swooping neckline that revealed a wide expanse of pale bosom and hugged her body scandalously, emphasizing her curvaceous body and leaving little to imagination—most men would have felt their mouths go dry with desire. Around her neck she wore a silken black shawl that wrapped her shoulders in its deep folds.

 

She would have been a stunningly beautiful woman if only her skin had been a bit darker. Next to Caroline's creamy-skinned freshness and willowy figure, she seemed deathly pale, like bleached bones rotting in the sun, and the eerie light cast by the lamppost - coupled with the swirling mists - did little to improve her complexion.

 

Madam Threadgoode wasted no time - with a single stride she was in front of the woman, breathing hard with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "So," she said, planting herself obstinately. "Here's a pretty little minx, if I don't miss my mark. Just who do you think you are, driving like that?!"

 

The woman's lip curled into a disdainful smile that would have looked at home on the features of a much larger woman, brushing at her dress with a black-gloved hand, as if clearing away some invisible dust. "I have many names," she said, her voice surprisingly low for such a slender woman. "But you may address me by my nom de guerre, my name of war... Seloth, I think. Yes, the Lady Seloth will do nicely."

 

From the moment she heard the woman's voice, Caroline hated it - it was something foully sweet, like perfume struggling to subdue some horrible odor at its roots. Madam Threadgoode, however, spared no time for such thoughts.

 

"Well, my Lady," the shop owner spat, regarding the other woman angrily, unsure of which was worse—the woman's scandalous dress, or her sweetly arrogant tone. "Around here, we have a little something called common courtesy. For one thing, we most certainly don't drive around like we own the road, and if we happen to endanger someone else, we make amends and apologize for it. If I hadn't thrown myself aside like a sack of potatoes, I'd be a smear on the road now!"

 

Seloth bent forwards and regarded her face thoughtfully, as if searching for some invisible mark. Her scrutiny lasted only a moment before she straightened unconcernedly. "You are not the one I'm searching for," she said with an odd sort of finality, drawing her shawl back to reveal pleasantly rounded shoulders. "I have no need of you. You may go."

 

Ivy Threadgoode looked likely to explode, judging by the redness of her face. It was obvious that no one had ever spoken to her like that, and she was not about to start accepting it now. "You..." she began in a low, murderous murmur. "How dare you...!"

 

Seloth peered around interestedly along the misty street with an air of expectancy, as if looking for someone who hovered just out of sight. She turned back to Madam Threadgoode with surprise and poorly concealed impatience, as if she forgotten all about her already.

 

"You again?" she asked, glancing at her disinterestedly. "What do you want? I told you to go, and you would do well to obey me. I do not take kindly to disobedient fools." Her low voice was sweet, but her words cracked like a whip across the misty air.

 

"A fool, am I?" Ivy asked quietly, her loud voice going dangerously soft and her hands clenched into angry fists. Clarissa tossed a frantic glance at Caroline, who knew all too well that one of Madam Threadgoode's famous rages was coming on, and that there was nothing they could do to dissuade her now. Clarissa gave a low moan and put her head in her hands, unable to watch what happened next.

 

"No, better still, a disobedient fool." Ivy's handsome features split into a sour smile. "Well, we'll see who plays the fool when I'm done with you, woman!" She drew her fist back quickly and then let fly into a powerful punch that would have certainly wiped away the irked look on Seloth's pale face... if it had connected.

 

With a loud thump and a surprised gasp from Ivy, her arm struck solid air and bounced back with twice the force, sending her sprawling onto the ground, where she lay unnaturally still. Clarissa gave a start at the sound of the woman's body landing heavily on the road, and gave a cry that was abruptly cut off as she saw the shop owner. An odd, cold feeling crawled across Caroline's skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Around her, the mist seemed to slow, shrouding them in curling clouds of creamy white. Seloth didn't even bother looking at Madam Threadgoode's crumpled figure, and stepped towards the two girls over her as unconcernedly as if she were a puddle, her dark eyes glowing.

 

"You know," she said idly in that sweetly foul voice, as if she were discussing the weather or some other trifling matter, "I hate this woman. Maybe I should just kill her now."

 

"No!" Caroline yelled, clutching at Clarissa's arm for support, which felt oddly solid to the touch. She turned to look at the girl, but her copper-skinned features were frozen in a mask of fear that did not falter.

 

That could not falter.

 

Caroline gave a horrified gasp and spun back towards the woman, who was advancing slowly upon her. Her legs seemed to have turned to water; she could not find the strength she needed to move away.

 

"Defying a Dark One," Seloth murmured, turning and eying the felled Madam Threadgoode before glancing back at Caroline. Her dark eyes flashed across the little sign advertising the shop behind them, and an odd smile crossed her face. "Quite 'plucky', indeed."

 

"What have you done to my friends?!" Caroline cried, swiveling between the motionless Madam Threadgoode and Clarissa. "What have you done to them?!"

 

Seloth slowed her advance and gave the fallen shopkeeper a scathing glance. "You mean that over-blown windbag?" she asked, her pleasant voice at odds with her facial expression. She turned back towards the girl, and her silky black eyes diluted into a hungry, catlike smile that also seemed at odds with her face. "Nothing permanent, unfortunately," she replied. The woman threw her slender arms outwards, gesturing grandiosely at the eerily-frozen fog that encompassed them. "It's called Eternia Field," she said. "A useful little trick that freezes time in a specific area."

 

Caroline tossed her head desperately, her eyes going wide at the frozen clouds of fog. Eternia Field? she thought, her mind roiling with too many thoughts at once. Something had happened to Madam Threadgoode and Clarissa, something this woman had done... The girl's floundering mind tried to reassert itself - this sounded too much like magic, and everyone knew that there was no such thing!

 

"Now then, my dear."

 

Seloth's silkily foul voice ripped through her reverie, jerking the girl back to the present. "I think we've wasted enough time observing the niceties, don't you?" Caroline lurched backwards, confusion spreading across her frightened features. Seloth's feline smile widened further still, if that was possible, straining the muscles of her angular face, and once more, she drew closer.

 

"Stay away from me!" Caroline screamed, barely contained terror sawing at her throat and making the words come out ugly and raw. Seloth did not slow her approach; she had almost closed the distance between them, and her slim, curvaceous body cast a shadow far too large for it upon the cobbled ground as she advanced.

 

"Please!" Caroline implored, clasping her hands as tears started at her eyes. "What have I done to you? What do you want with me?!" Seloth slowed her pace and her hungry look gave way into one of consideration. "You truly don't know?" she asked, tossing the girl an appraising look that left goosebumps in its wake.

 

Caroline managed a terse shake of the head, her pale lips mouthing a silent and horror struck 'No.' Seloth's thoughtful expression faded away quickly at her reply, and the hungry, excited look returned to her features. "You don't know why I've come for you?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else. "Oh, how perfect. How absolutely delicious." A glistening pink tongue appeared from between her sculpted lips and licked them eagerly as the woman quickened her pace.

 

Terror sprang through every fiber of Caroline's body, driven by an instinct older than reason, older than courage - survival. "Help!" she screamed, her words oddly muffled within the mist. She drew breath once more and shrieked, "Someone help me!" Then Seloth was upon her, and had snatched her wrist in an iron grip.

 

A terrible cold surged through the girl, obliterating all thought and resistance. She struggled vainly against Seloth briefly before succumbing to her icy grasp - for a woman so slender and seemingly fragile, she was incredibly strong. Seloth regarded her slowly through black, catlike eyes. "Your efforts are pointless," she said, jerking her head sharply behind her. "Your words cannot penetrate the boundaries of the Eternia Field."

 

Caroline's eyes widened, and once more she found the will to struggle weakly, sobbing and gasping for breath.

 

"Silence, girl."

 

Seloth's poisonously sweet tone was at odds with her words - it was an order, with all the crack of a whip to it. The woman bent forward and pressed her other white hand against the girl's mouth ruthlessly, stifling her cries. A hideous wave of nausea racked its way through Caroline's body as she was enveloped in a scent so foul it was beyond words. Her eyes were rolling backward, her vision was dimming, and she dimly registered someone laughing. Then the odor had lessened, and she was falling forwards and catching herself on the cobblestones, filling her burning lungs with cold, stale air.

 

Seloth laughed again above her, and as Caroline looked up at her wearily from the floor, the other woman's features seemed oddly dappled with shadow in places where there should be none.

 

"Get up, Shir'tugal," Seloth ordered, her cruel gaze forcing itself into the girl's thoughts like a hideous black lance. Caroline found her body moving in response to the woman's words, and she got to her feet unsteadily, her muscles sore and aching in protest.

 

"And now," Seloth continued in her foully sweet voice, the hungry, catlike smile forcing itself once more upon her face, "we will play a Game of Shadows."

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes: This chapter was perhaps the most difficult and time-consuming to write, especially with all of the other things I was struggling to manage at the same time. DOTBA has not been updated since sometime during the summer, a fact that I'm painfully aware of. Still, I hope that you can find it within your hearts and interests to take up this story once more, dust it off, and accompany me as we continue our incredible journey.

 

===

 

CARD List:

 

No new cards for this chapter.

 

===

 

GLOSSARY:

 

- Eternia Field: A mysterious, magical technique that freezes time within a specific area for a certain allotted amount of time. All objects or people, as well as sounds present within its boundaries upon its casting cannot leave the Field by conventional means, although outside individuals can enter, however.

 

===

 

CHARACTER Profiles :

 

Caroline Lace

Age: 19

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 5"8

Weight: 119 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: Unknown

Deck: Unknown

Personality: Gentle, timid, and generally gloomy. Protective of others and will not hesitate to stand up for them - something that she seems incapable of doing when it comes to standing up for herself.

Hobbies: Flower arranging, sewing.

Likes: Nice weather, being alone with her thoughts.

Dislikes: Arguments, cruelty.

 

Seloth

Age: Unknown (Appears around 26)

Hair Color: Black, with natural darker shades

Hairstyle: Long and slightly curled, worn in oily tresses

Eye Color: Black

Height: 5"6

Weight: 125 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: Unknown

Deck: Unknown

Personality: Generally lazy and hateful. Displays a sort of 'cruelly' cheerful perversity. Tends to depend on others more than herself, but quite capable when angered.

Hobbies: Creating and sampling different perfumes of varying foulness.

Likes: Bad smells, which she dubs as 'perfumes'.

Dislikes: Cleanliness, humiliation.

 

Clarissa Frayne

Age: 18

Hair Color: Dark brown

Hairstyle: Long, straight

Eye Color: Dark brown

Height: 5”4

Weight: 124 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: N/A

Deck: N/A

Personality: Friendly most of the time, although she's also easily irritated. She's more than a little vain and enjoys gossip, but she means well.

Hobbies: Feminine stuff, especially going on dates.

Likes: Boys, making herself look more attractive.

Dislikes: Manipulative people, cloudy skies.

 

Ivy Threadgoode

Age: 28

Hair Color: Dark brown

Hairstyle: Wavy, usually worn in a bun. Has a tendency to curl with humidity.

Eye Color: Dark brown

Height: 5”6

Weight: 164 lbs.

Favorite/Signature Card: N/A

Deck: N/A

Personality: Painfully tactless and stern, but dependable, well-meaning, and honest. Outwardly gruff, but has a weakness for sentimental things. A bit of a workaholic.

Hobbies: Running Neo Checker's Threadgoode Weavers.

Likes: Bossing people around, responsibility in others.

Dislikes: Thieves, deceit, and arrogance.

 

===

 

NEXT Chapter:

 

A desperate confrontation, the revealing of many writhing, hidden shadows. The Weaver.

 

The Enemy rears its sly head, and the forces of evil begin to gather and shape their insidious designs.

 

Next Chapter: The Weaver, Part 2

 

[bury the year]

Well, just for accuracy's sake, 夢 can't be read as "kuro". It can only be read as "kura". 黒 can be read as "kuro", however.

[Saiba Aisu]

[spoiler=Chapter Six]

 

====

 

CHAPTER Six: The Weaver, Part Two

 

“A g-game of shadows?” Caroline asked, still shuddering from the intense combined cold of Seloth’s grip and the surrounding ethereal mists frozen in place within the Eternia Field.

 

Seloth tossed her a smug, patronizing look, and placed her gloved hands upon her hips, emphasizing her slim and attractive figure. “Come now,” she said in a low, mocking tone. “Don’t tell you’ve never heard of the game of Duel Monsters?”

 

The girl brought her hands up to her face and clutched her forehead, which had begun to drum a staccato beat, throbbing painfully in time with her heart. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, carving damp trails down her dirt-stained palms. Now she knew she was going crazy—here she was, trapped in this horrible, unnatural swirling mist with some psychotic, beautiful woman who had as good as claimed she could cast magic. And now she was supposed to indulge eagerly and wholeheartedly in a children’s card game?

 

“Y-you can’t be serious,” Caroline managed, lowering her hands and trying to back away blindly. “This is some kind of trick—some awful hoax that isn’t real. You can’t honestly expect me to play a card game!”

 

Seloth frowned, an uncharacteristically ugly look on her face. “You dare mock the ancient ways?!” she demanded in a low and terrible voice, her catlike black eyes flashing. Seeing that Caroline was going to speak, she cut across her sharply. "Hold your tongue, girl," she commanded, and Caroline's words died away silently in her throat.

 

"I see that being a Shir'tugal has given you a false sense of confidence," Seloth continued, her voice resuming its sickly sweetness. "No matter. With our little game, I will both win your soul and solidify my success."

 

The black-clad woman drew a deep breath and bared her pale arms above her head delicately, her fingertips swallowed by the overhanging mist, the black shawl slipping back from her shoulders, although she did not seem to notice the intense cold. She called out harshly in a foreign tongue and flicked her wrists commandingly—there were two brief bursts of purple light followed by a horrible screeching noise.

 

Caroline threw her hands over her ears and closed her eyes; when she dared to open them again, Seloth held two Duel Disks in her slim, pale fingers. Although they looked familiar to the Duel Disks Caroline had seen before and played with, there was something distinctly alien about them at the same time. Although both were sharper and more elegant in design than any other model she had seen, one featured a set of mysterious, scrawling characters in golden leaf, while another possessed an entirely different set of patterns, etched deeply in black and inlaid with a sparkling purple gem—it was this Duel Disk that Seloth now fastened to her arm with a practiced air, while she sent the other skidding across the ground at Caroline.

 

With a dull scraping noise, the Duel Disk came to a halt at her feet. Caroline shrunk back involuntarily—this was really happening, she could not avoid it. “Come, girl,” Seloth said, swinging her arm and checking that the Duel Disk was satisfactorily attached. “There is no way for you to escape the boundaries of the Eternia Field from within—refuse my challenge, and you forfeit your soul to me.”

 

Still trembling slightly, Caroline knelt slowly and reached towards the golden-etched Duel Disk. Her slim and usually clever fingers seemed clumsy with the cold, but in the end she managed to withdraw her Deck from her skirt’s pocket and insert it into the Deck slot with a click. She stood, and as she attached the Duel Disk’s clasps to her arm, she felt a sudden rush of unexpected warmth flow into her body, dispelling some of the effects of the unnatural cold within the Eternia Field. A holographic flash of colors lit up the Duel Disk briefly as it was activated, and a mechanized beep sounded as both players’ Life Points were registered.

 

“You may as well begin our battle,” Seloth said, dusting away at her scandalously-tight black gown idly. “Such optimism seems foolish at this point, but I’m still cherishing an eager hope that you’ll be able to provide me some form of entertainment, however brief, before you lose—I like to play with my food before I eat it, you see.” The slender woman’s face broke into a hungry, catlike smile as she regarded Caroline. Once more, the girl was struck by how unnatural the smile appeared on Seloth’s perfectly proportioned face—as it weren’t meant to be there at all. She felt a rush of instinctive fear at her words, but somehow the fear seemed more distant than before with the golden warmth of the Duel Disk rushing through her willowy frame.

 

“As you wish,” Caroline said, her tone of voice much stronger and confident than she would have expected. She paused before her opening cards, however, and looked up at Seloth. “You mentioned that the spell you cast upon my friends is not permanent,” she said, sparing a moment to take a pained glance in the direction of the petrified Madam Threadgoode and Clarissa. “If I manage to win this Duel, you must set them free. That’s the only way I’ll agree to play.”

 

Seloth gave a small, humorless laugh and nodded, gesturing impatiently for Caroline to begin—evidently, she was quite confident in her ability to win their match. The blue-eyed girl took a deep breath, reaching for the courage and determination she so often left unused. She exhaled and reached for her Deck, drawing her five opening cards—across from her, separated by a wide expanse of cobbled road, Seloth did the same.

 

“I’ll begin,” Caroline said, reaching for one additional card and adding it to her hand. “Rise, Sorrowful Bridesmaid in Attack Position,” she said softly, gently placing one card from her hand onto the Duel Disk. There was a burst of soft rose-colored light, and a young brown-haired girl clad in pink straightened upon Caroline’s field, clasping a bouquet of blue flowers to her breast. Her dark blue eyes seemed to speak of inexpressible melancholy, and her ATK and DEF scores stood at 100 each—a fact which Seloth wasted no time in pointing out.

 

“Why bother playing her in Attack Position?” the other woman cackled roughly, drawing her shawl around her softly rounded shoulders. “I hope for your sake that your Deck isn’t composed entirely of such pathetic creatures,” she laughed, her pleasant features twisted in a cruel smile. “Otherwise, you won’t be fit to provide any entertainment at all.”

 

Caroline managed to keep her face impassive, although beneath her serene, creamy, swan-like exterior, outraged thoughts were roiling—thoughts which she normally withheld and refused to voice. Pathetic, was she? Well, she thought, I’ll just have to show her otherwise! Then aloud, she continued, “I will activate my Bridesmaid’s special ability—whenever she is Normal or Special Summoned to the field, I can move The Heart-Broken Maiden from my Deck to my hand.”

 

Seloth’s smile faded slightly as Caroline withdrew her Deck from its slot and began sifting through it with delicate movements, searching for her card. Around her, the horrible fragrance of damp and deadly things increased considerably, but she hardly noticed, so intent was she on maintaining her focus; selecting one card with slim fingers, Caroline flashed it briefly at Seloth—revealing a blue Ritual Monster Card—before adding it to her hand and returning her Deck to its previous position.

 

“I then activate the Continuous Spell Card, Heart-Felt Offering from my hand,” she murmured, slipping another card into one of the Duel Disk’s slots. A green Spell Card appeared briefly on the field, shining with the same rose-tinged light from before. With a rustling noise, several streamers of scarlet silk expanded from the card, flying through the air and wrapping themselves around the invisible walls of the Eternia Field. When they had finished their work, the two women were enclosed within a cage of red silk, with several of the streamers dangling artistically downwards or horizontally.

 

“I will then set two additional cards,” Caroline added, slipping another pair of cards into the Duel Disk’s Spell and Trap Card slot. With a brief burst of golden light, the image of two vertical face-down cards appeared, flanking The Sorrowful Bridesmaid from behind. “And with that, I will conclude my turn,” the girl said, giving both the cards in her hand and on her field one last glance.

 

“It’s my move now,” Seloth declared in her frightening, low voice. She drew a card and regarded it briefly before tossing it into her hand and selecting another card in its place. “I believe it’s time I show you what a real monster looks like,” she said, tossing Caroline’s monster a contemptuous look. “I will summon Vile Witch from my hand.”

 

The sinister stench encompassing the two Duelists seemed to intensify as a new creature appeared on Seloth’s field—clad in elegant hooded robes of purple and black, Vile Witch was quite similar in appearance to her master, with luxurious dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders, black eyes, and a bone-pale countenance, except for the fact that her hands were horribly clawlike and wrinkled with age, so that each tendon visible. In one hand, she wielded a slender staff of knotted black wood. Although she was not the strongest of monsters, her ATK and DEF scores—1400 and 1000 respectively—placed her worlds above Caroline’s monster.

 

“Now I will use the effect of my own card,” Seloth continued smugly, tapping Vile Witch’s card upon her Duel Disk with a manicured fingernail. “Similarly to your Bridesmaid, whenever my creature is called to the field, I can also add a card from my Deck to my hand.” Her fingers blurred briefly as she snatched a card from her Deck and added it to her hand. “And in this case,” she continued, “I’ll activate the Spell Card I fetched… Foul Fragrance – Breath of the Blighted!”

 

A Spell Card appeared briefly behind Seloth’s creature before dissolving into a cloud of noxious greenish-white smoke, which snaked forward and covered Caroline’s field entirely. Strengthened as she was by the warmth pouring from her Duel Disk, it still took every last ounce of self-control the girl possessed to avoid vomiting upon the cobbles as the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh engulfed her—as it was, she sank to her knees, coughing, her lungs screaming in protest, her eyes brimming with tears of discomfort. Her ears rang as she heard the digitized beeping that indicated her Life Points had somehow been reduced.

 

Caroline: 3500 LP (4000 – 500 = 3500)

Seloth: 4000 LP

 

Seloth gave a low laugh, her voice more at odds than ever with her exquisite appearance. “Allow me to explain the effect of my Spell,” she said, gesturing grandly at the greenish-white cloud that had surrounded them, drinking in its scent of diseased flesh with a twisted look of horrible pleasure upon her pale face. “Apart from dealing 500 damage to the opponent after activation, Breath of the Blighted will also prevent you from setting any cards during your next turn.”

 

Caroline struggled to her feet, the golden warmth still coursing through her, blue eyes still watering. A small expression of shock briefly registered itself upon Seloth’s features, but it was soon swept away as her pale face assumed its characteristic disdainful look. “In any case,” she continued, “I will now send your Bridesmaid to the grave she’s yearning for so desperately. Attack, Vile Witch!” Seloth’s creature hefted its slender staff in its ruined hands briefly before sending a concentrated gale of black smoke issuing towards Caroline’s monster, engulfing her in a hellish whirlwind of foul scents.

 

Caroline screamed as the noxious smell reached her once more, sending her dark tresses flying, although her scream was soon cut off as she bent forward and retched dryly, her stomach heaving and her head spinning with nausea. “I will,” she began, clutching her forehead and whispering into the shrieking gale, “I will activate the effect of Heart-Felt Offering!” Several glowing red silk streamers expanded from the card at her voice, soaring forwards and tying themselves in complicated knots around Vile Witch, who struggled briefly before cutting off her attack abruptly. The girl straightened unsteadily, her stomach churning horribly, ready to empty itself at any moment.

 

“Whenever I take damage from a battle involving a monster with 1000 ATK or lower,” she explained in a rasping whisper, “I can make that damage 1000.” Another set of digitized beeps signaled the further reduction of the girl’s Life Points, while the silken streamers released Seloth’s creature and snaked backwards.

 

Caroline: 2500 LP (3500 – 1000 = 2500)

Seloth: 4000 LP

 

Seloth smiled smugly. “All you’re doing is prolonging your suffering by a small amount,” she said, her voice ringing with callous amusement and a foul sweetness. “But by all means, continue—I do so enjoy the discomfort of others.” The woman’s black gaze swept the field delightedly, coming to an angry halt when she realized that The Sorrowful Bridesmaid remained upon the field. “How—?” she began, only to be cut off by Caroline once more.

 

“As long as my Bridesmaid remains in Attack Mode, she cannot be destroyed by battling an opponent’s monster—yes,” the girl said, her blue eyes flickering as she interpreted the outraged expression on Seloth’s face correctly. “It’s a useful ability, and one that you underestimated. But I’m not done quite yet. Reveal Trap Card, Blood-Stained Romance!” At the girl’s command, one of her face-down cards swiveled upwards, splattering The Sorrowful Bridesmaid with copious amounts of dark red liquid.

 

“Whenever I receive battle damage equaling 700 or greater, I am able to move one copy of my Betrayal of Love Spell Card from my Deck to my hand,” Caroline explained, watching as her card dissolved in a burst of scarlet light, adding one more card from her Deck to her hand—however, her monster remained covered in blood. Seloth scowled, her lips pursed in an unbecoming manner that did not suit her soft and feminine features.

 

“You may think yourself clever, little girl,” she said in her deep voice, “but you have not escaped me yet. Turn end.”

 

“Then it’s my move once again,” Caroline replied in a weak voice, adding an additional card to her hand.

 

“Activate the Ritual Spell Card, Betrayal of Love, from my hand.” A brief glimpse of a card depicting a woman embracing a man amidst searing flames appeared, and then vanished as the flames materialized upon the field.

 

"I offer the Level 2 Sorrowful Bridesmaid for the Level 6 Heart-Broken Maiden!" The flames swept over Caroline’s Bridesmaid, who let out a piercing scream of agony. She vanished among the flames, which quenched themselves presently. A dark vortex swirled and solidified into a slender blonde girl with mournful, velvety blue eyes and a sad small upon her pale lips, clad in robes of white and black with an elaborate red lace collar. Between her gentle cupped hands she clasped a still-beating heart, and two eerie disembodied arms appeared behind her, floating ominously. Although her appearance was formidable, The Heart-Broken Maiden was even weaker than the creature Caroline had used to summon her, featuring 0 ATK and 0 DEF.

 

Seloth laughed coldly. “I will admit,” she said, “you concerned me for a moment there, playing a Ritual Monster—but to think that I was worried for a moment of such a despicably weak card!” The slender woman’s laughter continued for a moment more before fading away as her dark eyes narrowed in a catlike manner. “Still,” she amended, “I won’t fall into the error of my previous turn and underestimate your Maiden, despite her pitiable appearance. What’s more, how did you manage to summon a level six card by offering a monster with only two level stars?”

 

The girl smiled thinly as way of answer. “If I am Ritual Summoning The Heart-Broken Maiden," she replied softly, “I can treat my Sorrowful Bridesmaid as the entire tribute for that Ritual Summon—another ability that you did not account for within such a weak monster.

 

“And now, I declare an attack against your Vile Witch with my Maiden,” she said, gesturing gently at Seloth, whose features arranged themselves into a confused look—evidently, she had no idea why Caroline would declare such a suicidal attack. The Maiden looked slowly up from the heart in her hands, and her blue eyes went a deep bloodlike scarlet. The two arms on other side of her stretched endlessly towards Seloth’s monster, who promptly summoned another gale of foul wind, beating them both back with ease.

 

“I will then reduce the damage I receive from this battle to 1000 with Heart-Felt Offering,” Caroline added, wincing slightly as her Life Points dropped once again. “In addition, my Maiden possesses a similar effect to The Sorrowful Bridesmaid, meaning that she won’t succumb to battle while she’s in Attack Mode.”

 

Caroline: 1500 LP (2500 – 1000 = 1500)

Seloth: 4000 LP

 

Seloth smirked, casting her lips in a pool of shadow. “That’s all very well,” she said sleekly, “but what point does attacking my Witch serve? All you’ve done is further reduce your Life Points, you know…”

 

“Activate The Heart-Broken Maiden’s special ability,” Caroline said in a clear tone, remarkably gentle despite the horrific attacks she had suffered. “Whenever I receive 1000 or more damage from a battle she was involved in, I can take control of the monster that opposed her.”

 

Seloth spat angrily as the Maiden lifted the beating heart and squeezed it painfully. Vile Witch cried out briefly before disappearing in a flash of speeding scarlet and rematerializing on the girl’s field, gazing at her suddenly-vulnerable former master impassively. Fortunately, the foul smell accompanying her seemed to vanish as the creature came under Caroline’s control, clearing the girl’s mind considerably and gently brushing away the haze of confusion and nausea she had been laboring under until then.

 

“Although it pains me to keep such a horrible card under my control,” Caroline said to the other woman, “I'll gladly set aside my discomfort in order to damage your Life Points. Vile Witch attacks you directly.” The purple and black-clad sorceress brandished her staff, sending a dark gale of air tearing towards Seloth, who spread her slender arms and seemed to lean into the foul attack, her eyes closed and an expression of ecstasy on her face as her Life Points dropped accordingly.

 

Caroline: 1500 LP

Seloth: 2600 LP (4000 – 1400 = 2600)

 

“And with that, I conclude my move,” the girl said calmly, grateful that she was able to conceal her rising sense of disgust and fear for the woman opposite her. What kind of person openly welcomes pain and foul scents? she wondered, shivering slightly in spite of the strange and miraculous warmth flowing through her from her Duel Disk.

 

“I will begin my turn with this,” Seloth said, recovering her disdainful demeanor. “The Foul Fragrance Spell Card, Malodor of Misery.” Yet another Spell materialized on Seloth’s field before dissolving into a rolling cloud of scarlet smoke tinged with purple undertones. Caroline brought her hand to her mouth as a terrible scent engulfed her—a scent she could not identify, composed of odd smells that made no sense when she attempted to name them.

 

Ugh! she thought, coughing wretchedly. There’s no such thing as the scent of pain, or the smell of misery, is there?! She lost her train of thought as a sharp pain spread through her body, shaking her focus. The girl winced as her Life Points were decreased once more.

 

Caroline: 1000 LP (1500 – 500 = 1000)

Seloth: 2600 LP

 

Seloth smiled a slow and cruel smile, her black eyes narrowed hungrily upon the discomfort on Caroline’s face. “Just like my Breath of the Blighted Spell, Malodor of Misery will inflict 500 damage to you when it’s activated—and afterward, you’re forced to tribute a monster under your control.”

 

Caroline felt a touch of unease at the contemptuous, knowing smile upon the other woman’s face—surely she didn’t think she would surrender her Heart-Broken Maiden so easily? “Very well,” the girl replied steadily, pointing at Seloth’s monster that stood upon her field.

 

“I select and tribute Vile Witch.” At the girl’s words, the swarming cloud of red-violet smoke swirled forward, engulfing Vile Witch and shattering her into jagged pixels of light before dispersing. Seloth clapped her hands in delight.

 

“I knew you would make that choice,” the slender woman laughed. “You’re far too stupid to think of any consequences destroying my creature might have brought about—and that’s a mistake that’s going to cost you, because whenever my Vile Witch leaves the field, I can send up to two additional Foul Fragrance Spells from my Deck to the grave.”

 

With a shuffling noise, Seloth’s Deck spat forward two cards which the woman caught nimbly and slipped into her Graveyard slot. “I will send the Foul Fragrance Spells Scent of Suffering and Wailing Witch-Hazel to the Graveyard,” she declared. “Then, by removing Wailing Witch-Hazel from my Graveyard, I can Special Summon Vassal of Vice from my hand in Attack Position.”

 

A brief glow illuminated the arena as golden-colored light shot from Seloth’s Graveyard and struck the ground, materializing into a young man with sly violet eyes and a nasty smile on his pale face. He was dressed in dark attire similar to that of a page or squire, and in one hand he wielded a wickedly sharp dagger—however, his scores stood at only 300 ATK and DEF apiece.

 

“Now, I will activate the special ability of my Vassal,” Seloth continued, selecting yet another card from her hand with slender fingers in a delicate grip. “If I Advance Summon a Dark monster, he can be treated as two tributes for that Summon.” In front of the woman, her creature sank to its knees and exploded into a jagged gateway in the air, from which foul howling winds swept forth.

 

“Appear now, Foul Fragrance Dragon.”

 

The boundaries of the gateway expanded, increasing the flow of wind coming from it. With a bone-chilling shriek, a snakelike head forced itself through, saliva dripping from its fanged maw; the rest of the body soon followed. Caroline fell to her knees in horror as she gazed upon a creature unlike any she ever seen before—a creature born of pure terror, as if from her nightmares. Foul Fragrance Dragon’s neck had a snakelike curve to it, but the head was blunt and savage, with several protruding bonelike structures and six glowing green eyes. Its lower jaw jutted forward, revealing a wipe expanse of jagged teeth, and upon its broad chest, several other pairs of slanted green eyes blinked sinisterly around a gaping cavity, revealing the creature’s beating heart. The Dragon’s scores stood at a massive 2600 ATK and 1900 DEF, easily making it the most powerful card upon the field.

 

Seloth’s monster beat its large, tattered wings and swept its snakelike tail—immediately, the scent of the air worsened beyond the point of tolerance; Caroline hunched forward and vomited quietly upon the cobbled ground, her chest heaving and her face sticky with sweat. Seloth laughed coldly.

 

“You may have bought yourself a slight respite with your pretty romantic tricks,” the black-clad woman said to her, “but this creature marks the end of our match—there is no chance of escape.” She regarded her monster approvingly, nostrils dilating hungrily as she inhaled the foul smell which seemed to originate from the dark recesses of its wings.

 

“Foul Fragrance Dragon’s effect—during each of my turns, she can negate the effect of one creature you control until the End Phase. By this effect, I choose your Heart-Broken Maiden, negating her ability to avoid destruction through battle and take control of the opponent’s monsters… And then I will attack with Foul Fragrance Dragon!”

 

Seloth’s creature flapped its wings once more, sending an invisible gale of sickening wind towards the Maiden, who coughed brokenly and stumbled in an ungainly matter, stunned. The Dragon opened its dripping maw and let loose a searing burst of violet flame which swept towards Caroline’s creature.

 

“Activate my Quickplay Spell, Romanticide!” Caroline cried, revealing her second face-down, which swung up and shone briefly before shattering and rematerializing behind the Maiden as an elaborate stone coffin, filled to the brim with white rose petals. The Maiden crossed her arms and fell backwards gracefully; the Dragon’s attack soared harmlessly over her head and past Caroline.

 

“By sending my Maiden from the field to the Graveyard,” the girl continued, “I can destroy up to two cards upon the field—I will destroy your Foul Fragrance Dragon!” The lid of the stone coffin slid shut, sealing the lovely Maiden away, before dissolving into a bright burst of coruscating golden light which consumed Seloth’s creature and reduced it to ashes.

 

Seloth’s expression hardened, but she did not scream or otherwise indicate her anger. “Very well,” she said softly in her low voice, more terrifying than the loudest shriek would have been. “I will end my turn for now—however, by removing the Foul Fragrance Spells Malodor of Misery and Scent of Suffering in my Graveyard from play, I can revive my Dragon once more.”

 

A foul tide swept the field as Seloth’s monster rematerialized in a burst of darkness and shrieked eerily. Caroline shivered, her pale face drained, each movement bringing almost unbearable agony. I have to continue! the girl thought weakly. I’m not only playing for myself—I could stand the loss if that was the case… But I have to save Clarissa and Madam Threadgoode as well!

 

“Draw,” she stated, adding one card from her hand and praying it would help her escape her current situation. Was it only her imagination, or was Seloth looking ruffled? Several lines had appeared upon the woman’s face as she clenched her jaw, her black eyes hard. A sheen of perspiration shone dully upon her pale features, and her dark hair seemed more oily than before.

 

“I invoke Fading Commitment in Defense Position.” A soft, rose-tinged light illuminated the area as a young girl dressed in a form-fitting scarlet blouse and skirt knelt on the ground, her hair glinting like silver and her eyes curiously blank. Although her ATK and DEF both stood at a decent sum of 1000, she provided little comfort against Seloth’s monstrous, hulking creature.

 

“I will then set two additional cards and end my turn,” the girl concluded in a soft, trembling tone, her blue eyes blurred with exhaustion as the two vertical holograms appeared on either side of her monster, leaving her hand completely empty.

 

“And now it ends,” Seloth purred in a rasping whisper, drawing a card. “I will activate Foul Fragrance Dragon’s ability, negating any effects your monster may possess.” The Dragon spread its dark wings once again, and Caroline’s monster crumpled to the ground, clutching her head in pain.

 

“I will activate Undying Romance!” the girl croaked in reply, revealing one of the cards she had played during her previous turn. “It Special Summons a Light monster with 1000 ATK or less from my Graveyard in Attack Position—and with it, I will revive The Heart-Broken Maiden!” The same stone coffin from before reappeared briefly upon the field and with a firm, pale grip, Caroline’s monster climbed out of it, cupping the heart in her hands once more while the two disembodied arms swayed behind her.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Seloth growled, giving the Maiden an ugly, violent look. Her features did not seem arranged as perfectly as before—the lines on her face were deepening, her pale skin had begun to resemble wax rather than bone, and her elegantly slanted dark eyes had taken a distinctly swollen appearance. “Your Fading Commitment’s effect is negated, so I will proceed with my attack and destroy her.”

 

The Dragon let loose a torrent of the same violet flame as before towards the monster that lay prostrate on the floor.

 

“Reveal face-down, Desperate Embrace!”

 

The last of Caroline’s face-downs swung upwards. “When an attack is declared,” Caroline explained, struggling to stand, “I can switch the attack target to another creature I control—namely, my Heart-Broken Maiden!” The golden-haired Maiden gave a loud cry and threw herself sideways, taking the other monster into her arms before hurling her out of harm’s way. The purple-tinged flame smote the Maiden who screamed piercingly, but emerged unscathed.

 

“I will then use Heart-Felt Offering’s effect to reduce the damage I receive to 1000,” the girl continued, as the red silk streamers sped forward to do their work. Seloth gave a cold, rough laugh of triumph. “Even if you did manage to redirect my attack,” she said in harsh tones, “you only have 1000 Life Points left—admit your defeat, and bow before the Lady Seloth!”

 

“No. Not yet.”

 

These softly spoken words, uttered in the gentlest and yet firmest of tones, had the same effect upon Seloth that a strike of lightning would have—her laughter was cut off and she became curiously rigid, her mouth gaping open, appearing too large for her face.

 

“Desperate Embrace has another effect,” Caroline continued, her voice growing in confidence and clarity as she pushed back the pain. “Any damage I receive from the battle involving the redirected monster is reduced by half.” With a digitized beep, Caroline’s Life Points were reduced, leaving her with only the ghost of a chance.

 

Caroline: 500 LP (1000 – [1000 / 2 = 500] = 500)

Seloth: 2600 LP

 

“And you know what that means, Seloth,” the girl continued, pronouncing her enemy’s name in a tone devoid of all hatred or reproach—a tone that was almost angelic. “Even though I cut that damage in half, it was originally 1000 points… Accordingly, my Maiden’s effect activates, stealing the heart of your Dragon.”

 

The black-clad woman gave a horrible roar as her last and most powerful monster fell under the Maiden’s spell, vanishing in a flash of rosy light and reappearing by Caroline’s side. Seloth’s figure no longer seemed so slim—on the contrary, the legs which she had slipped into her fashionably small boots appeared constrained and painfully swollen, and she was gasping heavily with effort.

 

“Wretched girl!” she rasped, her voice lower and rougher than before—more like the voice of an old hag than a smooth-faced woman of twenty-six or twenty-eight. The black silk shawl fluttered from her suddenly mannish shoulders. “How you dare…!” she said in her terrible voice, raising gooseflesh on Caroline’s arms. After a brief moment of hideous gasps, Seloth seemed to master herself, regarding the girl through a face with puffy black eyes, cheeks whose angles had turned to slovenly curves, and overly full lips.

 

“It makes no difference,” she panted, hunching over. “It makes no difference at all. You will be mine, and I will suck the sweet life from your still-breathing body!”

 

Caroline recoiled instinctively from Seloth, who seemed to have gone mad. What’s happened to her?! the girl screamed to herself.

 

“I will set one card face-down and conclude my turn,” Seloth whispered, lurching a step forwards in an ungainly manner. A vertical facedown card appeared on her otherwise empty field.

 

“Then it’s my move,” Caroline said softly, desperate hope rising in her breast. Perhaps she could win, despite everything against her—perhaps she would survive after all! “I activate the Spell Card, Faithless Fortune,” she declared, as a bright and soothing light illuminated her field, smelling faintly of roses. “It increases my Life Points by 1000 for every Light monster I control with 1000 or less ATK.”

 

Caroline: 2500 LP (500 + [1000 * 2 = 2000] = 2500)

Seloth: 2600 LP

 

With their Life Point scores nearly equaled, the bubble of hope in Caroline’s chest began to expand, bringing a soaring joy and lightness to her figure. “It’s the end for you, Seloth,” she said, switching Fading Commitment to Attack Position. “I will attack you directly with Fading Commitment and Foul Fragrance Dragon!”

 

The red-clad girl sprang forwards lightly, dealing Seloth a heavy slap across the face with a delicately gloved hand, while the Dragon directed another burst of its characteristic flame towards its previous mistress.

 

“Activate Continuous Trap Card, Stench Barrier!” Seloth roared, revealing her facedown card with an ugly sweep of her thick arm. A perfectly spherical curtain of shimmering golden smoke appeared around the woman’s field, absorbing the Dragon’s attack and dispersing it harmlessly.

 

“By sending the top card of my Deck to the Graveyard while a Foul Fragrance Spell exists there,” Seloth explained, clutching her chest and wheezing, “I can negate one attack per turn.”

 

The smile of luminous beauty faded slightly from Caroline’s face as Seloth’s Life Points were decreased—but not by the amount she had expected. A worried and drawn looked appeared on the girl’s features as she wondered what the other woman could possibly be planning.

 

Caroline: 2500 LP

Seloth: 1600 LP (2600 – 1000 = 1600)

 

“Then I will end my turn,” she said simply, realizing that there was nothing more she could do. Within her, the bubble of hope she had so briefly entertained burst, filling her with a cold sense of dread.

 

“Then I will show you, girl,” her enemy whispered hoarsely, “what happens to those who defy the beauty and power of the Lady Seloth!” Chuckling lowly to herself, she drew one card and examined it briefly before placing it upon her Duel Disk.

 

“I activate Redolent Ruin—a Spell that can only be used while Foul Fragrance Dragon is in play, but one that destroys two monsters and allows me to draw one additional card.” A terrible smoke materialized in the air, swirling around the field sinisterly. “Say goodbye to your Maiden and my Dragon, girl!” Seloth cackled. “You see now that I am the one destined to win our battle!”

 

The rolling cloud engulfed the two monsters with a casual sweep, and when it dispersed, they were no where to be seen. A hungry smile appeared on Seloth’s swollen, lined face—much more at home now than it had been before—as she added another card to her hand.

 

“Now, I will end my turn… But during my End Phase, I remove Breath of the Blighted and the card that was sent from the top of my Deck by Stench Barrier’s effect—Foul Fragrance – Deadly Night’s Shade!” Seloth’s Graveyard slot was illuminated briefly as the two cards were removed before her Foul Fragrance Dragon reappeared, darker and more menacing than before, if that were possible.

 

“And with that,” Seloth said with a touch of her old foul sweetness, “I will end my turn. I’m interested to see how this will play out, considering that you have no cards in your hand, girl.” She let loose another ugly cackle which soon broke into spasms and heaves.

 

“It’s my turn, then,” Caroline said softly, her stomach falling away from her as she drew her card. With a calm expression on her face, she turned the card over; a single diamond-like tear rolled down her cheek as she recognized it.

 

“I switch Fading Commitment to Defense,” she said at last, wiping her face. “Turn end.”

 

The slovenly black-clad woman smiled hungrily, swollen black eyes dilating like a cat’s in anticipation. “You have done your best to oppose me, Shir’tugal,” she declared in a low voice. “Your race is run; you have no further way to defy me.” She moved to draw one card from her Deck.

 

“The Lady Seloth won, as she always does…”

 

The tip of one thick finger connected with the top card of her Deck…

 

And Seloth jerked backwards, stumbling clumsily. Around the two women, the very air seemed to tremble, so that the many silken streamers dangling downwards or diagonally swung delicately. The trembling soon gave way to a deep moan as the eerie, petrified fog began move slowly around them, gathering speed as it went.

 

Incoherent roars and curses tore themselves from Seloth’s mouth as she stomped the ground angrily, her thick fingers clenched into fists, her lined, swollen face only vaguely reminiscent of a human’s by this point. There was a flash of violet light, and Caroline blinked in astonishment as the two monsters and the red silk streamers vanished. With a mechanical click, her Duel Disk folded itself back into its dormant position, and the bright colors alternating upon it died away.

 

“GIRL!” Seloth roared, stumbling blindly towards her with large hands outstretched murderously. Caroline recoiled and backed away, her body coming into contact with the invisible walls of the Eternia Field, which suddenly felt oddly pliable and watery. The swirling fog gained an unnatural speed, coiling around them as the hour which the Eternia Field has lasted occurred within the space of a few seconds.

 

The black-clad woman checked her pace and came to a halt, quivering with indignation and hatred as she eyed the slender and swanlike girl. “You may have escaped me this time, Caroline,” Seloth muttered quietly, each syllable a death threat as she spoke her opponent’s name for the first time.

 

“Realize that nothing but sheer fortune saved you from me today… Had I not expended so much energy before facing you, I would have been able to maintain the Eternia Field longer… and then you would have been mine.”

 

She looked up at Caroline, her swollen face hard like stone. “Understand this—there will come a time when we will meet again, and neither man nor angel will be able to protect you then.” Then a harsh and ugly laugh tore itself painfully from her throat. “Let it be known that the Lady Seloth always repays her debts,” she howled, hunching over into herself. “On this, you have my word, Caroline Lace.”

 

The girl shuddered, the world growing hazy as she struggled to hold on to consciousness. In the last few moments before Seloth disappeared, her blue eyes caught sight of something never intended to be seen by man—a snarling demon, lined with wrinkles so intense they almost cut and grossly obese, roaring to itself with a hideous laughter that would not stop, that seemed to creep inside her and clutch at her very soul with blackened hands.

 

Then there was a great shattering noise, as if of glass, and sweet air rushed back into the stale void left by the Eternia Field as its invisible walls disappeared. Around her, the fog swirled and began to withdraw, revealing the familiar surfaces of buildings and the surface of the road upon which she stood.

 

Caroline sank to her knees with a weak cry, ignoring the damp cold of the cobbles biting into her flesh and soaking her clothes. It was over, all of it. Finally, Seloth was gone. Her head was pounding very loudly and she knew that she needed to go and check to make sure that Madam Threadgoode and Clarissa were alright, but…

 

I’m so tired, Caroline thought to herself in confusion, her tired body screaming to her in protest at every passing moment that she remained awake. Perhaps I’ll just take a quick rest…

 

Caroline’s eyes were already closed as her unconscious form collapsed forward, spread-eagled upon the cobbled road, the damp surface of the ground pressing into her face.

 

Around the town of Neo Checker, the many citizens pressed their faces against their windows as they watched the thick fog disappear in a matter of seconds. For a brief moment, silence reigned supreme in the warrenlike streets of the little town, and then a wave of noise swept forward as the sun appeared once again in the sky.

 

===

 

AUTHOR’S Notes: This chapter was quite interesting and engaging insofar as the writing process goes—although I went back in the end and made a few changes, much of what you see here is exactly the same as what I first wrote. I would like to think that this chapter is the most authentic one we’ve seen far in Days of the Black Apple—as Madeleine L’Engle says, the most important thing is to just write, right? I also hope you enjoyed this Duel as compared to the last one. Although they’re both quite important, I would hope that this Duel was more exciting and believable; as always, your comments are appreciated.

 

Thank you to all the readers who have stuck with and supported this story from the beginning. It would not be half of what it is now—which isn’t too much!—without you.

 

===

 

CARD List:

 

[spoiler=Monsters]

 

The Sorrowful Bridesmaid

Level 2

Light

Fairy-Type/Effect

ATK 100 / DEF 100

This card cannot be destroyed by battle while it is in Attack Position (Damage Calculation is applied normally). When this card is Normal Summoned or Special Summoned, you can add 1 "The Heart-Broken Maiden" from your Deck to your hand. If you Ritual Summon "The Heart-Broken Maiden", you can treat this card as the whole tribute for that Ritual Summon.

 

The Heart-Broken Maiden

Level 6

Light

Fairy-Type/Ritual/Effect

ATK 0 /DEF 0

This card can only be Ritual Summoned with the Ritual Spell Card, "Betrayal of Love". This card cannot be destroyed by battle while it is in Attack Position (Damage Calculation is applied normally). When 1000 battle damage or higher is inflicted to you from a battle involving this card, you can select and take control of the monster that battled with this card.

 

Fading Commitment

Level 2

Light

Fairy-Type/Effect

ATK 1000 / DEF 0

Effect: Unknown

 

Vile Witch

Level 4

Dark

Spellcaster-Type/Effect

ATK 1400 / DEF 1000

When this card is Normal or Special Summoned, you can add 1 "Foul Fragrance" Spell Card from your Deck to your hand. When this card is removed from the field, you can send up to 2 "Foul Fragrance" Spell Cards from your Deck to the Graveyard.

 

Vassal of Vice

Level 2

Dark

Fiend-Type/Effect

ATK 300 / DEF 300

You can remove 1 "Foul Fragrance" Spell Card in your Graveyard from play to Special Summon this card from your hand. When this card is removed from the field after being Special Summoned by this effect, remove it from play. If you Tribute Summon a DARK monster, you can treat this card as 2 Tribute Monsters for the Tribute Summon.

 

Foul Fragrance Dragon

Level 7

Dark

Dragon-Type/Effect

ATK 2600 / DEF 1900

Once per turn, you can select 1 face-up monster on the field and negate its effect(s) until the End Phase. During either player’s End Phase, while this card is in your Graveyard, you can remove 2 "Foul Fragrance" Spell Cards in your Graveyard from play to Special Summon this card from your Graveyard.

 

 

 

[spoiler=Spells]

 

Heart-Felt Offering

Continuous Spell Card

When you take battle damage from a battle involving a monster with 1000 ATK or less, you can make that battle damage 1000.

 

Betrayal of Love

Ritual Spell Card

This card is used to Ritual Summon "The Heart-Broken Maiden". You must also offer from the field or your hand monsters whose total Level stars equal 6 or more as a tribute.

 

Romanticide

Quickplay Spell Card

Activate only by sending 1 face-up "The Heart-Broken Maiden" you control to the Graveyard. Destroy up to 2 cards your opponent controls.

 

Faithless Fortune

Normal Spell Card

Increase your Life Points by an amount equal to the number of LIGHT monsters you control with an ATK of 1000 or less x1000.

 

Foul Fragrance – Breath of the Blighted

Normal Spell Card

Inflict 500 damage to your opponent. Your opponent cannot Set any cards during their next turn.

 

Foul Fragrance – Malodor of Misery

Normal Spell Card

Inflict 500 damage to your opponent. Your opponent tributes 1 monster they control.

 

Foul Fragrance – Wailing Witch-Hazel

Normal Spell Card

Effect: Unknown

 

Foul Fragrance – Deadly Night’s Shade

Normal Spell Card

Effect: Unknown

 

Foul Fragrance - Scent of Suffering

Normal Spell Card

Effect: Unknown

 

Redolent Ruin

Normal Spell Card

Activate only while “Foul Fragrance Dragon” is face-up on the field. Destroy up to 2 cards your opponent controls. Then draw 1 card from your Deck.

 

 

 

[spoiler=Traps]

 

Blood-Stained Romance

Normal Trap Card

Activate only when you take 700 points of Battle Damage or higher. Add 1 "Betrayal of Love" Ritual Spell Card from your Deck to your hand.

 

Undying Romance

Continuous Trap Card

Special Summon 1 LIGHT monster with an ATK of 1000 or less from your Graveyard in Attack Position. The Special Summoned monster cannot be used as a tribute for a Tribute Summon (or Set). When the Special Summoned monster is removed from the field, destroy this card. When this card is destroyed, destroy the Special Summoned monster.

 

Desperate Embrace

Normal Trap Card

Activate only when a monster you control is selected as an attack target. Switch the attack target to another monster you control, and reduce any Battle Damage you take from that battle by half.

 

Stench Barrier

Continuous Trap Card

Once per turn, while there is a “Foul Fragrance” Spell Card in your Graveyard, you can send the top card of your Deck to the Graveyard to negate 1 attack.

 

 

 

===

 

GLOSSAY:

 

No new entries in the glossary for this chapter.

 

===

 

CHARACTER Profiles:

 

No new character profiles for this chapter.

 

===

 

NEXT Chapter:

 

The soft rustle of colorful silk from a faraway land. The winds of destiny move in invisible patterns across the world.

The time is growing closer. Can anyone be trusted?

 

Next Chapter: The Storm Bringer

 

[bury the year]

Je l'ai aimé!

 

It's turning out rather interesting so far. However, I don't think that you have to reveal the entirety of Marron's abilities at the beginning. It kinda ruined it a bit.

[Umbra]

Let me just sum it up with this.

 

I love it.

[Saiba Aisu]

Thanks, Nitton. Hopefully this will stand a chance when it comes to winning a spot in YCM's Featured Works of Fiction.

 

And just to be clear, people - Marren's seizure was triggered by her gift, not the book. I guess I wasn't clear enough with that in the chapter...

[Guest Star]

I've read the Prologue and the first two Chapters.

 

I think - personally - that it would have been better if Dane had won, merely because it would have created an even greater sense of character development for him.

 

I'm really enjoying it, though. I'll read Chapter Three in a little while. I have to make dinner.

[Saiba Aisu]

Thanks, Edge.

 

However, I had decided that Marren and Dane's Duel was the best opportunity to introduce her unique ability - in so doing, I couldn't have her lose after explaining her powers, right?

 

It was a pretty close duel, though, so I hope I didn't spoil Dane's characterization. Besides, he'll have plenty of opportunities for it later.

[Guest Star]

Thanks' date=' Edge.

 

However, I had decided that Marren and Dane's Duel was the best opportunity to introduce her unique ability - in so doing, I couldn't have her lose after explaining her powers, right?

 

It was a pretty close duel, though, so I hope I didn't spoil Dane's characterization. Besides, he'll have plenty of opportunities for it later.

[/quote']

 

That's almost the opposite of what I was thinking. I'm assuming that Dane is of a higher power, and that being said, he would have proved himself as superior--even when facing her power.

 

Either way, it's good.

 

I'd like to get Chapter 4 of mine up tonight; I really need to start getting into the plot, and I have some free time to write, so I might as well. I'll let you know when it's up, and I'll read your Episode 3 in a little while.

[bury the year]

Let me just sum it up with this.

 

I love it.

 

Seconded.

 

I really need to start developing my fanfic ideas soon, or I'll be dropped from the League of Extraordinary Writers. D:

[Saiba Aisu]

Well, I am glad you guys like it. I know it's not a substitute for Ixigo's work - I mean, what is? - but I try every now and then to incorporate some of his elements of plot, characterization, and to a lesser degree, writing style.

 

These elements, while not particularly noticeable, should help give DOFTBA a Chronicles-esque, familiar feel.

 

Rinne: That is absolutely amazing. The League of Extraordinary Writers? Like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?! I love that movie!

 

That's almost the opposite of what I was thinking. I'm assuming that Dane is of a higher power' date=' and that being said, he would have proved himself as superior--even when facing her power.

 

Either way, it's good.

 

I'd like to get Chapter 4 of mine up tonight; I really need to start getting into the plot, and I have some free time to write, so I might as well. I'll let you know when it's up, and I'll read your Episode 3 in a little while.[/quote']

 

Well, I'll do my best to explain, since I did a shabby job in the prologue. Shir'tugal are incredibly talented when it comes to Duel Monsters - their innate ability to twist the odds to their favor, instinctively sense their opponent's strategies, and the possession of certain gifts like Marren's make them extremely difficult opponents to beat. All of the shir'tugal in Days are easily professional-level at Duel Monsters, with the exception of perhaps one or two.

 

Dane's loss at Marren's hands is proof of this - even though he is obviously an agent of mysterious and powerful forces, he can be bested by the mysterious powerful of the shir'tugal. If you'll also notice, there is one line where Dane makes a pensive remark on Marren's sudden victory...

 

Alright, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for it. You sure post yours fast! Mine normally take me a week or so. Thanks, and be sure to tell me what you think of chapter three.

[Guest Star]

Well' date=' I am glad you guys like it. I know it's not a substitute for Ixigo's work - I mean, what [i']is[/i]? - but I try every now and then to incorporate some of his elements of plot, characterization, and to a lesser degree, writing style.

 

These elements, while not particularly noticeable, should help give DOFTBA a Chronicles-esque, familiar feel.

 

Rinne: That is absolutely amazing. The League of Extraordinary Writers? Like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?! I love that movie!

 

That's almost the opposite of what I was thinking. I'm assuming that Dane is of a higher power' date=' and that being said, he would have proved himself as superior--even when facing her power.

 

Either way, it's good.

 

I'd like to get Chapter 4 of mine up tonight; I really need to start getting into the plot, and I have some free time to write, so I might as well. I'll let you know when it's up, and I'll read your Episode 3 in a little while.[/quote']

 

Well, I'll do my best to explain, since I did a shabby job in the prologue. Shir'tugal are incredibly talented when it comes to Duel Monsters - their innate ability to twist the odds to their favor, instinctively sense their opponent's strategies, and the possession of certain gifts like Marren's make them extremely difficult opponents to beat. All of the shir'tugal in Days are easily professional-level at Duel Monsters, with the exception of perhaps one or two.

 

Dane's loss at Marren's hands is proof of this - even though he is obviously an agent of mysterious and powerful forces, he can be bested by the mysterious powerful of the shir'tugal. If you'll also notice, there is one line where Dane makes a pensive remark on Marren's sudden victory...

 

I didn't realize Marren was a shir'tugal. That makes more sense now.

 

Alright, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for it. You sure post yours fast! Mine normally take me a week or so. Thanks, and be sure to tell me what you think of chapter three.

 

I have a lot of free time after school, and I get bored sometimes. When I'm bored, I like to write.

[Saiba Aisu]

Yeah, Marren's one of the four shir'tugal mentioned in the prologue. Personally, she's my favorite of the shir'tugal, simply because I'm a bibliophile, too.

 

I wish I had that kind of free time. I run track for my school, so that means every day from 2:45-5:00 I'm out there running. Luckily, the season is done for this year. I also have a bunch of other clubs - French, Young Democrats, etc.

 

And then I have my duties as an Admin on GXDS... D:

[Guest Ixigo]

Exquisite. I thoroughly enjoyed this so far, even if I've read a bit of it a while ago. From the point that the focus shifts on Marron, the quality of writing seems to increase expotentially. Well, we all do our best when writing on our favorite characters after all. That would be one of my few objections thus far - that the story seems too Marron-centric for now, and even Daisuke is outshadowed quite a bit as a protagonist.

 

Personally, the only things I would note are, ironically enough, issues I've found annoying in Chronicles and wanted to correct. I've already mentioned some of them, and they can be summed up by this: Unneccessarily deep exposition to the plot early on. Simply put, the pace is rather fast. The reader must sympathize with the characters he reads about in order to care for them, and want to read their story. So far you've been doing a great job, but it seems a little rushed. Events are happening at a rapid rate, and some more casual space in-between significant things for character development would be welcome.

 

Also - Marron's touching of the book is described with a very similar feeling to one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite games (visual novel, actually). It was so perfectly intense and the description flowed so well, plus the whole thing was simply... amazing. Easily my favorite part this far. Epic.

 

About the one duel we've read so far, I can't say I was very excited. Though it's a good start, it felt rather bland, and as was said before, it's sort of a letdown to have such an obviously epic character lose in his first appearance. It's not impossible to showcase Marron's power and still have her lose, and I would have much preferred that outcome. It's good to see the new Valkyries in action, though I still stand by my view that Hilde should be mad haxx.

 

To summarize, the initial feeling is like Chronicles (especially reading the first chapter gave me epic deja vu), but it is obviously written in a more mature and orderly manner. If I'm allowed to make that comparison, it feels like 'the next step' above Chronicles. But as the story flows its own character is emphasized, and though the similarities remain, they are implemented quite nicely and take a secondary seat, highlighting rather than suppressing your own style and writing. And I never thought people around here would actually still remember Chronicles =S. This was actually the only story I've ever posted here, so...

 

Either way, I will grab the occasion and greet my old friends here, though - especially Umbra. I sure must go back and read your story again. Those were the days. What happened to the sequel, mayn? =(. And to forestall the obvious question - yes, I'm still here, just lurking until there's something worthwhile going on to catch my attention. After a project I was writing went down the drain, I'm preparing another one, but that'll be a surprise.

 

That's all for now. Anxiously awaiting the next installment. Don't forget to PM me, Saiba Aisu-kun.

[Saiba Aisu]

Exquisite. I thoroughly enjoyed this so far' date=' even if I've read a bit of it a while ago. From the point that the focus shifts on Marren, the quality of writing seems to increase exponentially. Well, we all do our best when writing on our favorite characters after all. That would be one of my few objections thus far - that the story seems too Marren-centric for now, and even Daisuke is outshadowed quite a bit as a protagonist.[/quote']

 

Thanks, Ixigo. I'm glad you find it 'exquisite' - sly devil, I love that word! - and I'll do my best to keep you posted on any further developments I can cook up. I'm afraid you'll have a bit of a general heads-up to future events, but I didn't mind when you asked me the same in Chronicles - the story was still immensely enjoyable.

 

Yeah, Marren is one of my favorite characters - she's actually based on an old friend of mine, with a few tweaks here and there. I do realize that Daisuke is being outshadowed and that my writing isn't at my best when it comes to him - that's an excellent criticism to note, and one that I'll do my best to fix. As to Daisuke taking the spotlight, chapter four will be the beginning for him - I plan for him to gain an exponential amount of characterization and plot focus after his first Duel, which should be a lot better than Marren's.

 

Personally' date=' the only things I would note are, ironically enough, issues I've found annoying in Chronicles and wanted to correct. I've already mentioned some of them, and they can be summed up by this: Unnecessarily deep exposition to the plot early on. Simply put, the pace is rather fast. The reader must sympathize with the characters he reads about in order to care for them, and want to read their story. So far you've been doing a great job, but it seems a little rushed. Events are happening at a rapid rate, and some more casual space in-between significant things for character development would be welcome.[/quote']

 

Yeah, I did note that while writing chapter three - the events so far have been rather fast-paced. In fact, it's been about a month since the prologue, and only about a week since chapter one. Unfortunately, it's kind of hard to go back and 'correct' them - after al, people have already read them. I will, however, take the suggestion to heart and slow things down. Yeah, I'm not sure if you caught the references to both Marren and Daisuke's private problems. That was a feeble step in the right direction for sympathetic characterization.

 

Yeah, I will be sure to allow a little break for the characters to develop - chapter four will be more of filler/lead chapter that won't contain much actual action. I guess I was trying to stylize my story too similarly to Wormwood, in which events move apace (Speaking of books, I actually bought The Eye of The World and started reading it. It's fantastic stuff!).

 

Also - Marren's touching of the book is described with a very similar feeling to one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite games (visual novel' date=' actually). It was so perfectly intense and the description flowed so well, plus the whole thing was simply... amazing. Easily my favorite part this far. Epic.[/quote']

 

Yeah, I was also thinking of a scene from one of my favorite books, and the interpretation from another scene in Wormwood. Glad you liked it, since I tried a little harder than normal to make the scene flow.

 

About the one duel we've read so far' date=' I can't say I was very excited. Though it's a good start, it felt rather bland, and as was said before, it's sort of a letdown to have such an obviously epic character lose in his first appearance. It's not impossible to showcase Marren's power and still have her lose, and I would have much preferred that outcome. It's good to see the new Valkyries in action, though I still stand by my view that Hilde should be mad haxx.[/quote']

 

Yeah, I didn't expect you (the readers) to be. I did consider having Marren use her power and still lose, but decided that it wouldn't have been as powerful an impression as having her win. You like Dane? That's good - he's one of my favorite characters. Don't worry, he'll definitely be back with a few tricks up his sleeve and a revelation or two, probably concerning their Duel (there is a tactful nod to Dane actually having a chance at winning somewhere in the past chapters). I'm glad you like the Valkyries - I decided to make a few further changes and implement a position-switching system, which I think works pretty well and is easily supported.

 

To summarize' date=' the initial feeling is like Chronicles (especially reading the first chapter gave me epic deja vu), but it is obviously written in a more mature and orderly manner. If I'm allowed to make that comparison, it feels like 'the next step' above Chronicles. But as the story flows its own character is emphasized, and though the similarities remain, they are implemented quite nicely and take a secondary seat, highlighting rather than suppressing your own style and writing. And I never thought people around here would actually still remember Chronicles =S. This was actually the only story I've ever posted here, so...[/quote']

 

Yeah, that was a respectful nod to Chronicles, which has been a tremendous help in writing DOFTBA so far - both as an inspiration and as a distinctive element in chapters, especially the end-of-chapter-system. You can give me no higher praise than that - 'a step above Chronicles' is more than I had aimed for. I'm also glad to hear that that is how the story comes off - the elements from Chronicles are only meant to add a comforting touch of familiarity to the project, not take the spotlight.

 

Ixigo, don't be silly - Chronicles was easily the best story on YCM during its time, and it probably still is (I say 'probably' because I have no knowledge of YCM's other stories - still, it is very likely).

 

That's all for now. Anxiously awaiting the next installment. Don't forget to PM me' date=' Saiba Aisu-kun.[/quote']

 

Thanks, Ixigo, for your lengthy post and your implied demand for an equally lengthy reply. xD I'll be sure to keep you posted (And ha, that took me a while. It's "Cyber Ice"-kun! I even copied that, and googled it. Oh, yes, fail. But still, a cool name overall.).