Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Well, that’s haunted,” Isa says, staring up and the decayed facade of the multi-storey mansion.

“Normally, I’d brush off such superstitious concerns; however, that is the single most haunted thing I’ve ever seen,” says Odile, taking detailed notes on the dilapidated state of the place. There were the sad features of the building, drooping with age and rot; the various creeping plants that had replaced most of the cement between the bricks, and appeared to be the only thing keeping the building standing; the gaping wound of a crater in the roof, presumably caused when the orb you were here for smashed through it; and who could forget the only tree on the hill sitting just next to the mansion, looking almost entirely dead and only persisting through sheer determination. There was a single rope hanging from one branch that may have once been part of a children’s swing but now seemed much more macabre.

“It was a House of Change once,” Mira says, wringing her hands as she peers at it, “but yes, it does seem rather haunted.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you say, “I doubt there would ever be ghosts in a House of Change.” You’re lying, of course. This is, as Odile said, the most haunted thing you’ve ever seen. You keep seeing shadows moving in the windows as well. Which know are just Sadnesses, but still, creepy.

Fear be damned; you need to prove yourself. You joined this group almost a month ago, and if you don’t start pulling your weight then you won’t get to stick around.

“Well, you can all wait here then while I go check it out.”

“What? Sif, no, that’s too dangerous,” Isa says, reaching an arm out to stop you from walking straight in.

“He’s right,” Mira adds, “This place was abandoned years ago because the foundation is beyond unstable. It’s a miracle it hasn’t already collapsed, especially after the orb was launched into it.”

“If it’s unstable then doesn’t it make more sense to have only the fastest and lightest person going in?” you ask. “Besides, it’s not like it’ll be hard to find, I can see where it landed. That narrows the search area considerably.”

“They’re right,” Odile says, “As risky as it is, having all four of us marching around and getting into fights is much more dangerous. We’d be liable to bring the entire thing down. But Siffrin, if things get even slightly out of hand, retreat and we’ll come up with a new plan. We’re trusting your expertise here. You said you’ve done this before?”

“Yep.” Nope, but how hard could it be?

With begrudging agreements from the other two, you make your way towards the ruin. Climbing the tree is probably the best option; you can jump from one of the thicker branches to a window just below the roof and then climb up to enter through the hole. The tree is easy enough to climb, and you scale it fast enough that you hear an appreciative whistle from someone beneath you. The silent praise pushes you onwards, and without hesitating you bring yourself to standing on the upper branch you chose. You spread your arms slightly for balance and sprint across the long limb, leaping from it and clearing the gap easily. The windowsill cracks with your impact, but holds. A few more swift and sure moves and you’re on the roof. You turn and wave to your group before jumping inside.

You hit the ground and roll, the wooden planks creaking in protest as dust is knocked loose and flutters around you. Coming up in a crouch you try and spread you weight out as much as possible whilst you wait for the floor to stop shaking. It settles, and you let out a breath. There’s another hole not far from where you landed, so you move closer, keeping low and slow.

Peering in you can see no further holes, but also no orb. No orb? Where is it? It should be right where it landed. It’s not like it grew legs and walked off. Unless… a Sadness picked it up. Hmm, this probably counts as “out of hand”, but you can’t just go back. Your first real chance to prove yourself ending in instant failure would be terrible. They’d surely kick you out if you couldn’t do this one simple thing. You’d just have a little look around.

Lowering yourself through the gap, you hang for a moment before dropping. Some already broken planks shatter even further under your boots and cause you to stumble. You don’t fall, at least. That would have been embarrassing. A wet shuffling, accompanied by pitiful moans and sobs, approaches the door to the room you’re in. Quickly, you dive behind a tipped wardrobe, tugging your hat off so it doesn’t stick out.

You lean out from the side of your cover as the blobby form of a neutral Sadness drags itself in. You could kill it, but only if you fought the way you used to – before meeting the others – and that would tire you out too quickly. Turns out, you aren’t supposed to just attack and throw Craft energy wildly. All those named skills that people use aren’t just for show, or team coordination. It’s to stop them burning out too quickly. You have some named skills now, but they’re much weaker – the trade off for moderating the amount of energy used. It’s fine though, you’re used to avoiding Sadnesses. It’s not like you could fight every one you came across back when you were doing it wrong.

The incredible investigative abilities of the Sadness lead it to shuffle into the middle of the room, spin in place, and then leave. They aren’t very bright.

You sneak to the doorway it left by, light on your feet and watching your step. It went right, so you go left, quickly coming to a T junction. Sliding along the right-hand wall, you peer across to see around the left corner, not seeing anything. You back up slightly and repeat the process on the opposite wall for the other corner, spying a Sadness heading this way. It doesn’t see you yet.

You pick up some rubble from the ground around you, tossing a chunk down the hallway the Sadness is coming from. Like the idiot creature it is, it turns around to investigate the sound, allowing you ample opportunity to slip in the other direction. You dart into the first open door you pass just in case the Sadness turns around once it doesn’t find the source of the sound.

One of the walls in here has collapsed, allowing access to a large dining hall that you enter cautiously. It’s remarkably intact in here. Nothing’s knocked over, nothings broken, and aside from all the dust and the gaping hole you just walked through, you could almost expect people to start walking in and setting the tables.

It’s under one of those tables you dive as a shadowy mass ambles in. You peer at it from between the chairs. Something seems wrong with it. It’s off-balance. A closer inspection reveals a strange lump under its flesh. The orb! The blinding thing has absorbed it. You can’t help the tsk of annoyance that slips out. It doesn’t hear, thankfully.

It trails about the room like a sad slug whilst you try and come up with a plan. You aren’t sure you can get the orb without killing it, but a long fight will draw in the other roamers. Perhaps you could just attack it like you used to? You can do one easily enough and still have enough energy to get out.

Suddenly, the Sadness convulses, pulsating and bulging grotesquely as you watch in rapt horror. It grows and twists and bursts, wailing as it does. The Sadness gunk floats in the air, swirling and coalescing as it transforms.

It’s a floating sphere, with the orb entombed within, and surrounded by eight levitating arms. All bulging muscle and twisting tendons. Now, you appreciate strong arms a perfectly reasonable amount just like everyone else, but they look like they’re about to pop. Every curling finger as they close into fists sends ripples up the entire limb, like an overstuffed meat suit.

A horrible sense of dread runs up your spine and you roll out from under the table just as a wave of Craft slams into it. The thing has no eyes, so you have no idea how it sees you, but it does. It flexes its new arms – as if appreciating its own body – as you size each other up. You jump in place three times, muttering to yourself “Don’t fail me now,” pleading with your own body and reflexes to keep up. It does make you feel better, though, looser and more nimble. You shake your arms out and draw your dagger, settling into a crouched stance.

It lunges and you dive to the side, a meaty mallet of a fist whispering past your head. You pivot and slash at it, opening a wound and watching it leak dark blood. Two more arms fly at you, making sweeping passes as you sidestep and roll away. You form a scissors sign with your free hand and Craft a Too Cleaver by Half. The Skill slices into each arm and the centre mass, and you feel satisfaction as several of the arms are debuffed.

The centre sphere opens up and visible streams of Craft energy flow from it into the arms before they all send rock-type attacks at you. You can’t dodge them all, and are thrown backwards wheezing for breath that won’t come. You lay on the floor amongst the shattered remains of the poor innocent table you collided with, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you try to convince your lungs to take in air. Your entire body shakes as you finally draw breath.

There’s no time to celebrate basic biological function though, or investigate the stiffness in the side of your chest, as the incredibly impolite Sadness is throwing more attacks at you. Fists fly by you, Craft clips you, and look up just in time to dodge the table. Which is just plain rude. Who throws a table at someone?

You scramble like a mouse as chairs and yet more tables soar across the space between you and the Sadness. It weaves Craft attacks in with the projectiles, displaying remarkable intelligence as it tries to use the physical objects to corral you before trying to hit you with Craft. You notice how the centre sphere opens up whenever it Crafts, the outer layer peeling back like liquid as Craft flows out of the orb and into the arms. Is it using the orb as a focus? You might be able to end this fight by just stealing the orb from it. It’ll be risky though.

A quick Crafting of Make Up The Time to boost your speed and you begin closing the distance. It’s mercifully running out of ammo and having to use more Craft and normal punches to try and hit you. Your eyes are wide and your body relaxed as you weave through the attacks. You feel almost calm, trusting in your speed and reflexes as you dodge and weave, unblinking as you track every movement your enemy makes.

Your dagger slashes into any arm that gets too close, biting deep and slowing their movements. It hasn’t healed itself, so you can safely assume it can’t. It throws the last table at you longways like a spear, and you jump up and dive over it, coming up the other side in a rolling handspring to avoid the follow-up attack. Your side screams bloody murder at the motions, but you have to ignore the pain and keep moving. Almost there.

It’s not far to the core of the Sadness now. Just a few more leaps, dodging the increasingly frantic attacks and blasts of Craft. Showing more of that remarkable intelligence, it stops using Craft once it decides you’re too close. It’s too late though, and you throw yourself into the air, striking with a Knife To Meet You and ripping the orb free.

Tumbling to the ground with the orb clutched under one arm, you look up at the Sadness as it begins dissolving. Clearly, it needed to power contained within the orb to maintain that form. You stand, your speed buff fading as you dust yourself off and check for injuries. A few minor scrapes and bruises, along with the ache in the side of your chest. Probably just pulled something doing that roll.

There’s no time to check though, as more Sadnesses pour in through the door and the hole in the wall. There are far too many to fight, or even try and slip past. You consider a window, but you’re probably too high up to risk falling if a Sadness hits you whilst climbing.

The Sadnesses are in the room now, and still blocking the only ways out.

New plan: the wall.

You turn, running for the nearest wall and Just Attack it. Craft rips forth and you realise just how bad this method is. Your muscles ache instantly, you stumble as your legs go briefly numb, and your brain fills with fog as a sudden wave of exhaustion washes through it. Definitely should stick to proper attacks from now on.

Good news: it broke the wall.
Bad news: that is far too much shaking to be good.

The dining room, already damaged from the fight and now down two walls, collapses behind you. Burying the Sadnesses and hurling dust and debris everywhere. An unhealthy mix of crushed brick and wood fills your lungs and chokes you as you stagger clear. And because you never have any luck, you are permitted no time to rest as even more blinding Sadnesses begin to fill the hallway. Why are there so many in here? What could have possibly prompted this many to gather in one derelict building?

You run aimlessly away from the horde, dodging Craft attacks from the ones that have already transformed to fight you. The building is continuing to collapse around you, a domino effect caused by the dining room giving up. You almost run straight past the stairs in your haste, and you have to double back to hurtle down them three at a time, almost falling when one practically evaporates on contact with your foot. Your plan of running all the way to the ground floor is ruined by the massive pile of debris blocking access to the lower floors. Great. Just great.

There’s Sadnesses falling down the stairs. Cracks are spreading along the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Dust is filling the air as more and more of the building gives up on life. The entire thing shakes on its shoddy foundation. There’s a window at the end of this hallway.

There’s a window at the end of this hallway.

You run for it. As fast as you can. Please make it, please make it, please make it, you think, as you pile on a final burst of speed. You clutch the orb tight to your chest as you leap, turning to let your cloak endure the brunt of the impact.

The glass shatters. A hundred tiny screams. A hundred tiny lights glittering in the sun. A hundred tiny cuts along your face and arms as your cloak flies around you in the wind.

You turn as you fall, getting your legs beneath you and extending them towards the ground. You bend and roll as you collide with the dirt, continuing to sprawl for some distance and finishing in an undignified heap.

Footsteps. Voices. They’re worried.

“Don’t worry,” you say weakly, “I got the orb.”

“Forget the orb,” Mira’s voice cuts in, firm, but with an underlying tremble, “Are you injured?”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“He has two broken ribs and his left ankle is sprained,” Odile says, running some analysis Craft over you.

“Oh, well I feel fine.”

“That’s adrenaline, Siffrin. Mirabelle, they need healing. Do what you can, and then Isabeau can carry him back to that village we passed.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. You just wanted to prove yourself, to secure your place.

“It’s okay,” Isa says, his voice a comfort, “You’re not that injured, and you got the orb. We’re just worried. We could see it start to collapse, and then you came flying out of that window. It was scary.”

“Sorry, I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Stop apologising,” Odile says sharply, making you flinch and aggravate your wounds. “Besides, you were right. If any of us had gone in there with you, we likely wouldn’t have made it out. I know that I for one couldn’t have made that jump. Spotty ending aside, you did well, Siffrin.”

“Why did you jump out of the window?” Mira asks as she begins healing you.

“Ah, you know,” you say with a smile, “Doors are for people with no imagination.”

You chuckle as Isa lifts you into his arms, flinching slightly as your only partially-healed injuries are aggravated by the movement. Mira looks concerned by your reasoning – that you are absolutely going to try and convince her is the real reason – and Odile just shakes her head tiredly. You did it. Mission success. Now to just keep it up.