from the ashes.

Memories of her first life had always been hazy and uncertain. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure which of them were real and which she’d invented for herself. She thought she remembered her mother, at one point in her childhood, issuing a warning about curiosity and cats and the unkind fate it often wrought. Even as a child, Kit had been swift to disregard the warning. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but Kit was a bird and birds could fly away. 

(It didn’t matter if flying away had done little to spare her brother his fate, didn’t matter that she herself had burned to death in a blaze set by her own inability to leave well enough alone, didn’t matter that she spent lifetimes satiating her curiosity in a way that now had her on everyone’s shit list. Kit was nothing if not stubborn; she’d never been good at listening.)

So, yeah, when she saw a weird altar near her apartment on her way home from work, she approached it. This town was fucking wild with all the cults and shit, and Kit wanted to know everything there was to know about all of it. She studied the altar carefully, looking at the strange symbols carved into it. And, okay, sure, maybe she should have known better than to touch it, but it was there and it was an altar and she wasn’t, like, queen of self control or whatever. 

Still, the regret was pretty instantaneous when she touched the altar and was transported into a dark room that looked something like a movie theater with no screen. Groaning, Kit allowed herself to collapse into one of the plush chairs behind her. “Oh, this spooky altar is so getting a one star Yelp rating!” Her voice echoed through the space. As it stopped, there was a small pop, and… someone else was here. Great! Kit rose back to her feet.

—

Shouldn’t have touched the damn thing. Shouldn’t have— Too fucking late, of course. Nicole only reached for the structure with the intention to move it from where it was blocking her path. Knowing it could’ve been a hindrance for others as well. Little kids, old folks who could trip on it. Why not move it a few inches to the left? The altar would be harmless to those walking down the street if that small change was made. She took it upon herself. 

A minute later she was— where the fuck was she? 

A dark room. Nicole was immersed in darkness. Her vision didn’t adjust to it. Was it a dream? Was it— what was it? She didn’t comprehend how it was possible to be in one place then transported somewhere else in a matter of seconds. A dream was the most rational explanation, though she’d never had the kind of vivid dream she could smell, or overthink before. A distant scent of smoke slowly wafted to her nostrils, and Nicole ambled around in the dark, searching for the culprit. She was uncertain if she was advancing forward or moving in circles, but staying still was not something she would consider. Dreams ended eventually, no? The more things occurred, the quicker it would be over. She hoped whatever the fuck this situation was, it followed a similar logic. 

“Fuck!” She swallowed a scream when her lower leg connected with a hard surface, but the sound of her voice ricocheted against the walls of the room, vaguely revealing the depth of the space she was in. Still couldn’t see for shit, though. Blinking the tears of pain away, the room looked different once she looked up. Part of the jaguar wanted to explore. Feline gaze set sight on a woman to her far right. “What’s— who are you?” She asked through clenched teeth, rubbing her shin. Was she also stuck in this… was she part of the dream? “Is this— real?” Fuck, she almost wished she was in a dream. She wouldn’t want to see the light of day if she ever uttered those words to a person.   

—

The new person was disoriented, and Kit found herself glad that she had been the first to arrive. She’d been free of prying eyes for the uncertain, undignified process of being transported, which meant she could offer a far kinder first impression of herself. This new challenger got no such grace. Perhaps it was selfish to be happy about this, but… Well, Kit had never been good at the ‘selfless’ act, anyway. She’d learned a long time ago that sometimes, the only person looking out for you was you. Sucked for this lady, but she wasn’t about to waste time feeling bad for a stranger when there were other things to do.

“Welcome to my crib,” she said flatly, holding her hands out. She held the pose for a second before dropping them with a snort. “I’m just kidding. God, actually, who even remembers that show?” She took a step towards the other woman, inspecting her carefully. Her confusion didn’t seem to be an act, which meant that any hope Kit might have had about wrangling some answers from this stranger went up in smoke pretty quickly. Whatever this was, they were in the same boat — the boat where neither of them had any fucking idea what was going on. Yay!

She glanced around the room again with a shrug. “I mean, it’s real as far as I know. And I’m positive I’m real, so if anyone around here isn’t real, it’d be you. And if you’re a figment of my imagination, you’re not one I’ve seen before, so…” She trailed off with another shrug. “Hi. I’m Kit. I touched a weird altar on the street, and now I’m in what looks like a defunct movie theater with a stranger. Isn’t life funny like that?”

—

“This isn’t a—” Nicole frowned, her words cut off by the other adding a punchline to her initial statement. Right. Didn’t she realize they were trapped in an unknown space with no apparent exit door? Wasn’t that a concern? “Don’t remember… whatever that was,” she grumbled with a headshake. She never watched too much TV. Used to being the kid who spent all her energy running around the farm, climbing trees, swimming in the lake. Didn’t exactly get too much time or opportunities to watch TV when she grew older either, with the jaguar fighting to take over. Regardless, she wouldn’t have enjoyed it either, it was the wrong type of distraction. 

The woman in front of her certainly looked like she engaged in all of those distractions, however. Too cheery for someone in their predicament. A predicament they found themselves in after getting their hands on a suspicious —she gathered— figure.  Nicole clenched her jaw, letting the small pang of annoyance subside. Whether she liked the other woman’s attitude or not, she hoped she would take escaping their situation far more seriously. “Right. And— I’m… not from your imagination, far as I know.” If she was the figment of someone’s imagination wouldn’t they have come up with something… better? More entertaining? Nicole would’ve hoped so. However if the woman believed she was in a sort of dream scenario, she felt much safer maintaining the shift in her human gaze. 

“Not sure I find the humor, no,” she shook her head again, the inflection in her voice flat as she hid her growing grievance with the woman. No point in taking it out on her. She could separate her irritation over being in an unknown situation from the person she was stuck with. There was value in facing adversity with a positive outlook, no? She supposed. If that same outlook got them out of the room, then— she wouldn’t complain. “Nicole,” she supplied with a curt nod, once she learned the other’s name. Not that she felt comfortable using it under any circumstances.  

“Should get out of here,” she walked forward, examining what looked like a common living room. Chairs, tables, a chimney. Bookshelves. One of those square black and white boards where people put tiny figurin— chess board. A chess board. To her left— a basketball hoop?  “Sure you never saw a door?” How the fuck did the furniture get in here?

—

Her new companion didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor, which was a total drag. If Kit was going to be trapped in a liminal space for a while, she’d like to at least be trapped with someone who could take a joke. Humor was the best distraction from the faint sense of dread she was currently ignoring, the quiet question of whether or not they’d find some way out of here. The fact that it wasn’t just her came as some relief, at least; misery loved company, and so did Kit. If she was going to suffer, she’d prefer not to do it all on her lonesome. The presence of another person also meant that this likely wasn’t a targeted attack, since her companion was a stranger. Little victories!

“Maybe you should look harder,” she replied, shit-eating grin firmly in place on her face. At least she had a name to go with the grumpy face now — Nicole. She’d known plenty of Nicoles throughout her lifetimes. This one ranked above the one who’d tried to take a bite out of her in 1960, but definitely below the one who’d lent her some crayons in this life’s kindergarten. There was still time to rise, though. Maybe Grumpy Nicole had crayons to share, too.

She snorted at Nicole’s suggestion. “Oh, wow. You think we should get out of here? I hadn’t considered that, Nicole, that’s really smart.” She moved forward, inspecting the decorations as the room stretched on some more. A chess board? A basketball hoop? Were those bowling pins? Kit’s brow furrowed, her mind working to put the pieces together. “Maybe we need to play a game,” she suggested. “What are you in the mood for? I’m a firm no on contact sports. I have a doctor’s note.” Or, at least, she could get one. She was a doctor, she’d write a note. Anything to prevent her annoyingly brittle bones from breaking, thank you very much.

—

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat, but it sure as fuck was pissing her off. Cranky as she was beginning to feel, however, Nicole saw the situation for what it was. A mix of fear of the unknown, being trapped who knew where, and the helplessness building in her chest at the lack of help being offered. The extra person, slightly irritating as she was, didn’t change the outcome. “Look harder… where?” She grumbled at the advice, a few seconds passing before she could decode the grin on the other woman’s face. She was— ah, it was a joke. Clever. Nicole’s face was unflinching, deciding whether she wanted to waste time being fun back. “Maybe you have to point me in the direction,” she replied dryly, uncertain where she landed on the being fun choice.  

“At least you’re considering it, I see,” she nodded her approval, opting to ignore the sarcasm dripping in the woman’s tone. How was Nicole supposed to believe Kit was taking their predicament seriously whe all she’d heard so far had been witty quips? But, as both their intentions to get out of the room were stated plainly, she let go of her confusion over Kit’s reaction. They would get out of the room. Didn’t matter many more jokes were thrown her way. Kit took in her surroundings in a similar manner, and Nicole watched as the woman seemed to be piecing what she knew so far. Wasn’t much, unfortunately. 

The proposal to play a game stirred an uncomfortable feeling in Nicole’s stomach. Yet again confronted with the idea of fun. If she had to play a game in order to be free, the odds were looking piss fucking poor. She wasn’t in the mood for shit like that. She was in the mood to get back to the— fuck. She let out a huff, understanding she was running into a wall. Fine, if a game was required —as Kit conjectured— she could do it. She wanted to get the fuck out of the room soon. Did it look suddenly smaller? Were the walls closing in? The sensation of being caged sped up her heart.  

“There’s no ball to play basketball,” she nudged her head to the hoop, then the ground around it. What was the best alternative? Another item to dunk, possibly. Before the thought finished in her head, she spotted a ball of yarn on the couch. Was that— always there? Nicole picked it up, intent on throwing it. There was no throw, however. She couldn’t— her fingers tangled in the yarn, experiencing a kind of relief she hadn’t felt in a long time. She bounced between in her palms, realizing how unlikely it was for the yarn to replace a basketball. No hoop, then. What—  “I’m too— not smart enough for chess,” she explained, defensively, before it was brought up. Her cheeks burned as she glanced at the pins. No bowling balls either. Why were there no balls? Was this room supposed to tempt them with what they couldn’t do? “Fuck it. Chess would do— you know it?” She was still kneading the yarn. 

—

She got the distinct feeling that Nicole needed to lighten up. If their presence in this room was somehow connected — something Kit suspected to be true given the fact that they were the only two in here despite the fact that odds pointed to more people touching the altar that had landed them here — she wouldn’t have her ‘performance’ graded based on Nicole’s unwillingness to play ball. (Or play… chess, or whatever they were meant to do here. That part, Kit was still figuring out.) The phoenix had little desire to find herself trapped in a strange liminal space for all eternity, and she certainly refused to be trapped with a killjoy. So… step one was going to be getting Nicole to loosen up. Step two was… TBD. Whatever it took to get out of here or whatever. She was focused on step one.

“You’ve really opened my eyes,” she agreed, shit-eating grin firmly in place. If Nicole wanted to play things that way, Kit would play. Maybe if she pushed hard enough, she could get the other woman to look a little less… panicked. After all, Kit wanted out of this and that would be something far easier to achieve if her apparent partner wasn’t too busy freaking out to pull her weight. There were two of them here. That must have been intentional. Either they were meant to work together, or they were supposed to be on opposing sides. It was more beneficial to assume they were meant to work together at first. If the first assumption was wrong, it would be far easier to betray Nicole than it would be to get her to trust her if things went in the opposite direction. 

So far, all evidence pointed towards the pair of them needing to play one (or more) of the games laid out for them in order to be granted their freedom. Kit was good at games. Sure, her foster sister had once accused her of being so competitive that made games less fun for everyone around her, but being good at games meant being competitive. Having no drive to win usually meant losing. And Kit didn’t lose. 

“I don’t like basketball, anyway,” she replied, waving dismissively towards the hoop. Nicole preoccupied herself with a ball of yarn, and Kit turned to watch with a curious expression. She understood the chess board. She understood the basketball hoop, even without a ball to toss in it. She didn’t understand the yarn. It didn’t seem to be meant for the hoop, so… “You don’t think we’re supposed to knit something, do you? I’ve never had the patience for knitting.” The only time she’d ever tried it, the hat she’d been trying to make had come out infuriatingly lumpy. That had been two lifetimes ago, but she’d sworn off it anyway. “I know chess,” she confirmed. “I’m good at chess. It’s not really about smarts, more… strategy. It helps to be able to read people, too. If you can trick the other person into making certain moves, you can beat them without even trying.” She paused, realizing this wasn’t really helpful. “But I’m not sure who we’re meant to be playing chess against. Each other? It doesn’t seem right.”

—

“It’s… fine— as far as sports go,” Nicole shrugged, glancing at Kit, “better ones exist,” she clarified, suddenly in the mood for talking. There was never a sport she didn’t wish to try growing up. Though her speed led her to track and field, where she found plenty of joy and accolades, there were other physical activities she filled her time with. Volleyball, when a team was created in high school. She swam too, another instance of her supernatural gifts giving her an advantage. Even from a spectator's point of view, there was soccer. Her family gathered around the TV to watch the leagues on the weekend. The memory tugged the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t gonna talk about it, however. Didn’t think Kit was a person who enjoyed sports. She seemed adamant from the beginning to skip any attempt at basketball. It was a shame, out of all the options presented to them, basketball was by far, the least annoying. 

Prompted by Kit’s question, Nicole studied the yarn in her hands. Wondering if there was more to its sudden appearance than a simple quirk in the room’s ongoing mystery. “If that’s— we’d be here for a while, yeah. Never done it either. Would probably be worthless,” shit like that took hours, didn’t it? She had an aunt who used to knit, would come over for the holidays with sweaters, hats and scarves to gift the kids. Nicole paid less attention to the knitting and more to the annoying tarot reading she liked doing so much, though.

Pushing the memories of her aunt away, she searched around for knitting sticks, stupidly hopeful that at least one alternative offered to them would have the entire set of tools needed for them to complete it. No such luck. No balls for the hoop or the pins. No sticks for the yarn. She continued kneading the ball, relieving some of the stress and approached the coffee table where the chess board was. Kit knew chess, should that be the key to freedom. It filled Nicole with faint optimism. “Can’t exactly read each other in a dark room,” she pointed out. Not that she was letting a stranger read her in any sort of way. She barely allowed her friends to do so. Chess made her as apprehensive as poker did, and she never played poker either. “How do you force a person to make a move…” she trailed off, slight disbelief not so hidden in her tone. 

Regardless, Kit didn’t believe a match of— a game of chess was the answer to their problem. “If we’re not meant to play each other, then who? Is this— no one else is out there,” that didn’t require any astute deduction to figure out. Only the two of them, alone in a dark space. She set the ball of yarn on one of the seats, moving toward the bookshelf. Why hadn’t they searched for a key? That was likely the easier way to get out. People often hid things in books, didn’t they? And— on a more intellectual level, sometimes books had answers to hard questions.

—

“You seem like the sporty type,” she commented, trying to… she wasn’t sure. Break the ice? They were stuck here together, for the time being; they were probably going to have to work together to get out. They might as well be friendly, right? And Kit could do that, Kit was good at that. As long as it was all surface level, she was great with people. She’d learned how to make most people like her well enough to not want to kill her, learned how to get people on her side enough to feel the need to protect her when someone else did want to see her dead. If she needed Nicole to like her, Nicole would like her. At least for however long it took them both to get out of here; at least until the effort of making Nicole like her was outweighed by the inconvenience of keeping it up. “I was never really into sports. I’m more of a ‘I only run if something’s chasing me’ girlie.” She flashed a grin.

Was the yarn another potential point of connection? Kit hadn’t been lying when she’d said it was never a hobby she’d taken to, and Nicole didn’t seem like someone who’d be familiar with it, either. She was holding the yarn more like a cat, kneading at it in a way that didn’t exactly imply a great familiarity. She confirmed her inability to knit, and Kit nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, then. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. And I’m not sure we can get any YouTube tutorials working down here. Up here? In here? Wherever here is.” She shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. It didn’t matter much, did it? Wherever here was, she had no intention of being here for long.

Smiling faintly, she shrugged again. “It’s not just about seeing somebody. You can feel people, if you try hard enough, right? The shift in the air around them.” And the heat radiating from their skin. People tended to flush a little when they were overwhelmed; it wasn’t typically noticeable, but when you knew heat as well as Kit did, you could pick up on it with enough effort. Chess games weren’t typically worth the effort, but this one could be. “It’s easy to get someone to make a move. You set them up in a way that makes them think it’s their idea. Let them think they’re winning, doing something you don’t want them to do. Lure them into a trap by using their own confidence against them. Then you hit them with the checkmate.” That was what she’d always liked about games of strategy — not the game itself, but the path to victory. The way of manipulating someone into doing exactly what you needed them to do. She was doing it to Nicole right now, kind of; in this case, though, she was only trying to get the other woman to loosen up a little. Hardly the kind of manipulation Nicole could rightly be angry about, right?

“Maybe whoever put us here to begin with,” she suggested thoughtfully, walking over to the looming chessboard. “Maybe we make a move, then they do. I don’t know. I’ve never been trapped in a liminal space by a street altar and forced to play chess before, so I’m kind of winging it here. You got any other ideas?” She followed Nicole’s gaze to the bookshelf. “You think there’s something there?”

—

Nicole stared at Kit with a blank expression on her partially shifted face. What did she mean? Oftentimes, people used that as a compliment. She was active, she was athletic. She cared about maintaining healthy habits. Exercising, shit like that. It wasn’t what unnerved her, however. She was sporty, from where she looked at it, but it wasn’t obvious. What did it mean, when the observation came from someone who met her five seconds ago? Was she so easily read? So quickly perceived? Nicole didn’t like that. If anything, her stomach filled with dread at the concept. She didn’t want to ask why Kit thought so. She only wanted to not be stuck in the room anymore. Didn’t have much of a choice, though. “Not gonna do a good job running from someone if your body’s not used to it, y’know?” On a chase, especially. A cramp in the first minute from lack of acclimatization and Kit was done for. She understood, however, despite her initial inclination to take her words literally, that Kit was joking. Not in a way Nicole found entertaining, no. But a joke all the same. “Hope we don’t have to run out of here…” she trailed off with a dry drawl. 

She disregarded her comments about YouTube tutorials as well, though part of her message stayed with her. YouTube. Phones. Signal. She reached for her phone, screen lighting up to reveal no service. GPS didn’t work either. Well, shit. Wherever the fuck they were, she began questioning whether it even existed. “No. Afraid it’s just us here,” she confirmed, shoving the device back into her jacket. It was the most solid confirmation that no one would come help them out. 

From her position by the bookshelf, Nicole listened as Kit explained her views on chess. Rather, what made it a strategy game. She was thankful for the distance she’d put between them, because none of the words being said sounded reassuring. She wasn’t interested in feeling anyone’s air around them change, her preference for keeping as much personal space as possible made her skin crawl at the thought. She pulled up the book with the largest spine out of the bookshelf, figuring the more words, the better, no? Why would a book be long if it didn’t have important things to say? She pondered on Kit’s words, still. “That might work on confident people. You got the rest of us to manipulate…” Though manipulating stupid people was likely easy to achieve as well. What about those who were crippled with second-guessing? 

An altar put them in the room, Nicole wanted to interject. She doubted it had any ulterior motives. Or it knew how to play chess. But— who put the altar there in the first place? It was a decent point. Bullshit trickery of magic origin? Nicole felt like she could almost grasp the answer to that question, but she was missing something. “Then make a move,” she suggested. “We even have pieces at all?” If they didn’t have balls for sports, or sticks for the yarn— she wasn’t sure the chessboard would offer them a chance. She wanted to be wrong, however. She turned to the bookshelf, hoping she would be pulled away from it by the sound of something exploding or a door opening, something. The book in her hand consisted of mostly blank pages. But there were symbols scribbled on some pages. One on each page. No way of discerning whether they were the result of the previous prisoner being bored out of their fucking mind or real information they needed to decipher. “Sometimes bookshelves lead to secret openings— I think.” She proceeded to drop the book in her hand. Then another one. And another. Waiting for a click. Or even better, a key stuffed somewhere. 

—

“Depends on what’s chasing you. Desperation can make people a lot quicker than they might be on their own!” Her tone remained jovial, light in a way that didn’t entirely match the words themselves. Kit had always been good at that, at contradicting herself in a way that allowed her to pretend she was utterly and entirely in control. When she tried hard enough, she could sometimes manage to convince herself of as much, too. It was comforting, in moments like this one. There were few things Kit hated more than feeling as though control was something outside of her grasp, some impossible thing to hold onto. It was the kind of sensation that always took her back to the worst moments; to Ezra’s death, to the spiral that followed it, to countless deaths of her own where she’d been made a victim instead of a perpetrator. It wasn’t the kind of thing she liked to remember; it wasn’t the kind of thing she liked to feel. So she kept her tone light and she pretended it changed her situation. She kept her town light, and she told herself it meant something more than it did. It helped more than she’d admit to. “I’m sure we can make it out of this mess without having to run,” she replied with a wave of her hand. Already, she was trying to figure out how she’d gain the upper hand if a situation arose where she had to outrun Nicole for some reason or another. Perhaps she could throw phoenix fire at the other woman’s feet to slow her down.

Unsurprisingly, Nicole confirmed that cell phone service was spotty, to say the least. Kit glanced down at her own phone and its terrible lack of bars with a sigh. “Could have guessed as much,” she said mournfully. “This thing would be blowing up otherwise. Lots of calls, lots of texts.” All from acquaintances and coworkers, of course; Kit had taken great care not to make any actual friends in Wicked’s Rest. It would serve her better, she knew.

Smiling faintly, Kit walked around the chessboard looking for more clues. “Unconfident people are even easier to manipulate,” she replied. “Make them second guess themselves, and even if they know the right move, they won’t make it.” She’d always been good at getting people to do precisely what she wanted them to do. She’d honed the skill for lifetimes, nurtured it and let it grow into some monstrous thing that served only her. It was like armor, the manipulation tactics she stroked like a dog; it kept anything from touching her. Even telling Nicole the tricks of the trade wouldn’t keep her from manipulating the other woman the moment the benefit of doing so outweighed any risk. Kit was good at doing what was best for her; collateral damage didn’t often factor into the equation. 

Still standing in front of the chessboard — which was absent of any pieces — Kit hummed. “Technically, you don’t need pieces to play chess,” she replied. “You just need to be able to picture it. Pawn to e4?” She called the move out to the empty room. It echoed, but there was no response. Nothing changed with the chessboard, either, and Kit sighed in quiet defeat. “All right, chess might not be the game,” she relented. She crossed the room to the bookshelf, curiosity pulling her towards the other woman as she flipped through the pages. Peering over her shoulder at the book in her hands, she clicked her tongue. “Think the symbols mean anything?” They weren’t any language Kit recognized, and her ego insisted that meant they weren’t any human language at all. “A hidden bookshelf passage is a little Scooby Doo, isn’t it?” But she pulled at a few books of her own, just in case.

—

Nicole dragged her eyes back to Kit, looking at her in silent contemplation. What did she know about desperation? Her flippant tone would’ve angered Nicole if not for the fact that it was the most revealing thing she’d said thus far. She lingered, debating whether to comment on Kit’s words or let it pass like every other futile attempt by the woman to lighten the mood. Though, what was there to say about desperation? The words were stuck in her throat, pounding heavily, until they dissolved into emotion. Words got nothing on the faint memory of the blade sinking in her shoulder blade, of her sister’s cries, of the terror in her brother’s eyes. Yeah, words to describe that gutting sensation were yet to be invented. She looked away, swallowing against the knot in her throat before she could speak. “Sure. You got a lot of faith in us.” It didn’t matter if escaping came down to running. It was the least scary option, all she knew how to do. She’d find a way to bring Kit along as well.   

Nicole didn’t often get a good read on people, but she believed Kit when she boasted about her popularity. It appeared quite obvious that the other woman had an outspoken personality. The kind that, perhaps in different circumstances, Nicole would’ve found interesting. “Right,” Kit’s friendliness could work in their favor, however. Maybe one of her friends was out there missing her, worrying about her absence on social media, already sending a search party after her. Nicole would have to wait slightly longer for that kind of concern over her to arise. Going missing for four years had a way of removing that sense of urgency in those who knew her.  

Kit’s confidence was unnerving, as was her insistence that she knew how people worked. Nicole took a second to recognize what could’ve been jealousy beating in her chest.  She fucking wished. Life would be much simpler if she had an inkling of what people thought and felt most of the time. If she understood cues, or read people the way Kit claimed to do. She would’ve lost a chess game to Kit, she reckoned. Not only because of her inability to play the game, but because of her reluctance to follow her gut instincts. Hard to trust those when most of the time they were hijacked by anxiety. She conceded Kit’s argument with a curt nod, following the girl as she moved to the chessboard. As expected, nothing came out of it. Only the echo of Kit’s command, followed by the silent defeat. Nicole glanced down at the book in her hands, and its indecipherable writing.  

She jolted when Kit’s voice came from behind her, stiffening at the closeness. Whatever happened to fucking personal space? Though, something about the warmth was comforting, akin to a fireplace. The impulse to lie down with her ball of yarn was foreign and unexplainable. Why the fuck would she feel like doing that when she was trapped in a dark room with no exit was beyond her. She shook her head, hoping it would spark common sense within her. The next book she threw on the ground whistled all the way down. Her brows furrowed. Was that— did the book make the sound, or was it Kit? She turned around frowning at the woman. But no— she looked innocent. Behind her, another book… jumped. Nicole was nowhere near to touch it, yet it launched out of the bookshelf, making a noise that could only be described as ‘wee!’ ’How the fu— “Uh…” looking down at the floor, there were enough books scattered around to trip on them. No secret passage unlocked, though. “Maybe not the bookshelf, no— something’s wrong with the books, no?” she stared at one of the covers, hoping an answer could magically come to her. Was Kit right and the symbols were the clue? Crouching down, she opened one of the books on the page with the scribbles. But before she could set it down and work on it, the fucking thing slipped out of her hands, flying toward the basketball hoop. When it dunked, the thing lay motionless underneath. “Fuck’s sake”. 

—

Something shifted on Nicole’s face, and it was interesting. If there was one thing Kit had learned across her many lifetimes, it was that every person was a labyrinth. They were full of twists and turns that you could get lost in if you weren’t careful enough. Nicole was displaying part of her maze now, but it was such a small one. If Kit stepped inside, how many dead ends would she find before she made it to the center? How many times would she get lost before solving the maze? She didn’t have time to find out, even if part of her was curious. You lived longer if you avoided the labyrinth. She’d learned that, too. “Well, I’ve never let me down yet,” she joked, and it wasn’t true but Nicole didn’t know it. “And you seem… responsible. Smart. I think with the two of us together, we can figure this shit out. Girl power or whatever, right?” She waved a hand flippantly. Kit didn’t trust Nicole nearly as much as she was claiming to, but she knew how to use the resources available to her and right now, Nicole was one of those resources. Two heads were better than one, even if one head was plenty smart and capable on its own.

The second head in this equation wasn’t much of a talker. Kit found herself wishing Nicole was chattier, if only because she didn’t do well with long silences. She liked to fill the empty spaces with voices, liked to have sounds echoing to remind her that everything was fine, that she wasn’t in danger. When home alone, she kept the television running to avoid the quiet. If Nicole wouldn’t say much, she’d fill it here by talking twice as much herself. “What about you? Anybody trying to call you that we should know about?” She pressed, trying to initiate more conversation.

Maybe she’d have more success with that than she had with the chess game. It wasn’t entirely surprising that her attempt to start a game had gone unanswered; nothing about the room they were in made her suspect that they were being actively watched, be it by camera or by some supernatural force. Still, part of her had hoped it would be as easy as winning a chess match. If the answer was something she already knew, there’d be less need to throw herself into finding it, less chance of slipping into the same brand of obsession that had ended her last life. The answer wasn’t written on the wall here, though; they were going to have to find it.

But it looked like Nicole had pointed them in… a direction. Kit wasn’t sure yet if it was the right one, but it seemed promising. After all, the book launching itself across the room was different, and different probably meant good in a place where everything else seemed intent on staying the same. “Something’s definitely up with the books,” she agreed with a grin. “Not just that one, I’m betting. We need to find more of those symbols! Maybe it’s a cipher or a code. Are you any good at decryption?” Kit was. She’d gone through a phase back when she was Kate, had written everything in secret languages and invented ciphers for other people to break. It had been a more productive hobby than the whole ‘torturing the undead’ thing, as it turned out! Nobody had ever murdered her for making ciphers. She watched the book dunk itself. “You should catch that,” she commented, busying herself with the shelf. “You’re fast, right?”

—

Nicole had let herself down several times. Hadn’t stopped since she was seventeen.  Wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on in the presence of a stranger, though. That sort of negative spiral was reserved for when she was in the confinement of her home. A home she planned on getting back to as soon as possible. It was the only thing that mattered. “Right,” she repeated, out of habit. She doubted ‘girl power’ had much to do with whether the two of them managed to find the way out, though. Weren’t intelligence and collaboration neutral traits? Though she was aware she lacked one of those, at least she could be a good collaborator. Ignore the jokes and the modern day references that went over her head and focus on the situation at hand. 

The personal question caught Nicole off guard. She frowned, wondering if she’d given any indication that she was interested in anything but getting out of the room. Was it so hard to focus on that? “Maybe,” she shrugged, “don’t know” she amended. She knew people cared about her, the days of wondering if she had anyone in her corner were a thing of the past. But her instinct to isolate was persistent, a part of her continued to worry she wasn’t enough to be deemed a friend. Self-doubt could be a crippling thing, whether she’d found ways to move forward or not. “People know I’m usually in the woods, where the reception sucks. Wouldn’t think much of my, uh—silence.” In truth, she understood if they didn’t worry just yet. Bothersome as it was to be stuck in a room with a talkative stranger, no lives were at risk. She wouldn’t want anyone putting their day on hold for her.

With the chessboard giving no indication that it wanted to start a game — and fucking hell if that wasn’t a strange thought in itself— logic dictated they had to join efforts in deciphering what the bookshelf had to offer. Kit, though dejected after the chessboard denied her a game, appeared to fully pivot her attention to the mystery behind the books. Unfortunately, the conversation became much harder to follow for Nicole as result. “What’s a cipher?” Though, it was positive for both of them that Kit knew. She allowed herself to feel a small pang of hope. “What’s— and what’s decryption?” weren’t crypts cemetery shit? More importantly, what could that have to do with… books? 

Should’ve known hope could only be a fleeting thing. She didn’t fucking learn, did she? Nicole let out a huff in annoyance, eyes fixed on the book that swung itself down the basketball hoop. Further peeved by Kit’s suggestion. “Got it, yeah” she grumbled, taking a few steps toward the book “what’s me being fast got to do with anything?” she wasn’t planning on running to pick a book. She’d never done that in her life. Returning to Kit’s side with the offending book, she noticed it felt lifeless in her hands. A one off situation? She opened it again, skimming through the pages. She feared if she placed it down, however, it would fly out again. When Nicole landed on the page, she had a reckless thought. What if— 

She tore the page of the book, wincing as the more strange sounds came in response. Was it— was the book crying out in pain? Was all that shit in her head? She chucked the useless book away, looking at the symbol in her hand. Now fucking what?

—

There had to have been better people to get stuck in a puzzle room with. People who’d talk more, or tell Kit she was right at every turn, or shower her in compliments as she seamlessly uncovered information and found an escape route using only her substantial wits. Any of those things would have been preferable to Nicole’s obvious uncertainty and awkward vibes. Conversation was hard to keep going under these conditions, and Kit did not want to be left alone with her thoughts. That was never a good vibe, but especially not in a situation like this one, where she felt trapped. (Being trapped always made her think a little about her first death — about flames closing in on her, and doors that wouldn’t open. And it was fine, she was fine, it had been a good thing because it made her immortal, but it wasn’t the most fun memory to live inside, and Kit wanted fun. She preferred that.)

There was some disappointment as Nicole admitted that no one was going to come searching for her, because it might have been nice to know that they had assistance from the ‘outside’ or whatever as well as the two of them working in the room. Kit was under no illusions that anyone would search for her if she disappeared off the face of the planet. She’d designed it that way, had made sure everyone was kept at a respectable distance. Dozens of acquaintances, but no friends. No one who could get close enough to make their inevitable departure ache. It was great until there were moments like this one, when she probably could have used a hand. “What do you hang out in the woods all day for, anyway? That is so not a fun place to hang out. There are bugs in the woods, you know.” And monsters that ate people, but that wasn’t the kind of thing Kit could sprout at random without risking a loss in credibility. 

“A cipher is a code,” Kit replied, though she didn’t look up from the shelf as she said it. When she focused, she focused. And right now, thanks to Nicole’s discovery, she was focused on the bookshelf with everything she had. “A decryption is a method of breaking that code. It’s… There are different kinds, but the most common are replacing one letter with another. Like, A becomes Z, B becomes Y, C becomes X. Once you break the code, you just swap the letters and read it. Get it?” She flipped through a book, finding another symbol. “Ha! But… I don’t think these are that. Look at the symbol. It’s short. Not exactly—”

She was cut off as the book launched itself from her hands, flying over to the chessboard to play hopscotch across the squares. Cursing, Kit went after it. “Tearing the pages is a good move!” She agreed, grabbing the book quickly. “These fuckers like to move, don’t they? Yikes.”

—

Nicole huffed, in a manner someone who found something amusing would do. Though she wasn’t planning on admitting that. Kit thought the worst thing about the forest was bugs? All while speaking with a woman with jaguar eyes? Had to be playing it safe, surely. “I work there. Park ranger,” she intoned, slightly more animated than before. “Happen to think it’s better than the town. Less— crowded,” rather, not crowded with the kind of living creature Nicole was terrified of. Humans. “But, uh… Good thing we won’t have to deal with bugs to get out of here, if you’re so worried about them. Got some spray, either way,” she concluded, wondering for a split second if she should’ve asked what the other did for a living. No, she didn’t think either of them were having a good time in this exchange. 

It was a pleasant surprise to learn Kit had more than one gear. Some jokes lingered, yes, but Nicole would almost consider the hyperfocused version of Kit going over the symbols an entirely different person. She wished she could’ve talked to this version earlier. Would’ve spared her some crankiness. Kit was intelligent in ways Nicole couldn’t keep up. Her brows furrowed as the other woman answered her question, complicating things in her head. Some of the words, she understood separately, but the meaning behind Kit’s full sentences escaped her. She didn’t have time to break things down slowly. “Uh—not sure I do” she mumbled embarrassed, shaking her head. Why would people need to speak in code? For Nicole, it almost felt like they always had, anyway. “Glad you do, though. Means… you’ll get us out of here.”  

If only the books would allow them the time to think. “If not a cipher then—” The tome Kit had in her hands went flying as well, instead of dunking down the basket, it bounced across the chessboard. Nicole’s mouth curved unintentionally, watching Kit curse her way to retrieve the book. Now they both knew what it felt like. “They do. Don’t want us using them for— whatever they’re needed for,” torn page in her hand, Nicole followed Kit toward the table, swiping the chessboard to the ground —not like it served any purpose— and slammed the piece of paper on the surface. The thing writhed underneath her palm, trying to escape once more. “If not a cipher—” she picked up where she was before the book interrupted them. “Then, what? A language? A marker? A… picture?” Were they, possibly, meant to be in a particular order? She looked over at the page on Kit’s book, there wasn’t much similarity in the traces, but it looked as though the same type of ink and pen had been used. Thinking of picking up the rest of the books she’d scattered on the floor, she made the mistake of letting the page under her hand go. The paper crumpled into a ball, and— sure enough, another three points in the hoop. Annoyance bubbled in her chest, but instead of going over for the paper ball, she shuffled back to the pile of books.

She returned carrying most of them, and dropped them with a loud thud on the table. “Start ripping pages”.

—

A park ranger. It was a very small snippet of information to learn about someone, but Kit filed it away all the same. If she’d gotten another kind of doctorate, maybe she could have dissected the implications of such a career, could determine more about Nicole based on the type of person who might wish to work as a park ranger in a town like Wicked’s Rest. But Kit wasn’t that kind of doctor, and her dissections were never the psychological sort. (She’d probably be a lot better off now if they had been.) So she only shrugged, only thought of how Nicole might actually be happy in this liminal space away from crowds. “Hell of a job.” And then, because it seemed awkward not to offer Nicole something in exchange for the information, “I work in the hospital. Lots of crowds there, most days.” More, lately. People were trampling each other to get out of town in a pretty literal sense. “Ugh, don’t say that. Now there’s going to be bugs. I know it.” A small smile played at the corners of her lips. She was almost having fun.

She hummed absently. Nicole wasn’t quite following her explanation, but that wasn’t as big a surprise as it might have seemed. Kit had never been a very good teacher; she’d stopped trying to be one a long time ago. “It’s like… secret languages when you’re a kid. The kind you make up with your friends, or your siblings, or whatever. All someone needs to crack it is to figure out one word in the note. But… this looks more like a puzzle, maybe. Are you any good at jigsaw puzzles?” Nicole seemed like she might be the type to sit alone in her living room working a jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table… but maybe that was just because she was giving off the vibes of an old lady, who Kit assumed partook in such hobbies. 

Of course, to solve a puzzle, the pieces needed to sit still. Kit ripped the page from the book the moment she had it in her hands, a little more viciously than might have been necessary. She did not appreciate being made to run around the room. “Do you think they’re sentient?” The question was one of genuine curiosity. Kit had been working under the assumption that the books were merely enchanted to avoid being opened and read, but Nicole seemed to think the books themselves had thoughts and feelings about the hands on them. Both options seemed just as likely, given their situation. Tearing the pages from the books didn’t stop them moving, which was something to consider, too; the one in Kit’s hand writhed, and the one Nicole held launched itself to the basketball hoop again. “Maybe we need a paperweight,” she said, smoothing her page on the table and sitting on it to keep it in place. “Hand me another book. We’ll get started.”

She flipped through the book Nicole provided her with, finding another page with a symbol and tearing it out, adding that paper to the one she was sitting on. Grabbing another book, she did the same thing. The collection of pages grew beneath her, and the number of books she and Nicole were flipping through shrunk until they’d scoured every last one. “Okay,” Kit sighed, shifting to gather the pages without letting any fly away. “We’ve got our pieces. You ready to solve a puzzle?” 

—

Kit certainly didn’t match Nicole’s notion of how a healthcare worker was supposed to behave. She was unsure how or why she had a preconceived notion to begin with. There was no time to ponder on it. Wasn’t Kit’s fault that she thought doctors, nurses and— who else worked there? All looked like serious, professional people in her head. Would’ve been nice to be trapped with someone who did meet Nicole’s expectations, though. Similarly to how Kit likely would’ve preferred someone quick witted, who went along with her humor. Neither of them was getting what they wanted out of this— might as well get over it and move toward a solution. “Ah, sounds like a real nightmare” she grumbled, pressing her lips tightly to get back to a more urgent issue.  

Using a secret language as an example was a lot simpler to understand. Why didn’t Kit start with that? Nicole rubbed her jaw, frown deepening when Kit moved from her initial line of thinking to consider the possibility of a puzzle. Fuck, she hated those. Who wanted to spend time sitting doing the same thing for hours? “Not—really my thing” she offered, picking up another book, scanning the pages for drawings. “Not sure I’ve ever finished— Would probably lose pieces,” she shrugged. Not too different from pages flying, Nicole realized. She hated how it validated Kit’s assumption. Though, the brief moment of annoyance aside, a puzzle was not too bad of a task to get through in exchange for her freedom. A lot fucking better than a cipher, at least. 

If only they could find the starting point. Nicole stared down at her page, certain that if it was part of a puzzle, it belonged somewhere in the middle. Couldn’t exactly set it down and go from there. Kit’s question broke her out of her thoughts. “Sentient?” she repeated, falling into quiet contemplation. The books had screamed as they toppled down the bookcase, no? They moved on their own too. What exactly did sentient— This was a headache inducing question. Her mind too limited to entertain it. She shook her head, cracking a spine open to show Kit the page she needed to tear. “Don’t know. Would they need a brain to feel? Not sure they got one.” It was a book, after all. Didn’t stop the shriek like noise coming from the pages as Kit ripped the important page. 

As they began tearing pages together, Nicole blinked skeptically at the pile of pages gathering under Kit. Hoping they weren’t wasting precious time for nothing. If the books like playing games with them, who was to say this wasn’t exactly where they wanted Nicole and Kit to be? Doing pointless shit when the answer could be elsewhere. They may not be sentient, but Nicole still believed the books were evil. Grumbling back to Kit after getting back from the bowling lane— where one of the pages had rolled toward— Nicole grabbed half of the stash of paper from Kit’s hand. “Right. Solving,” she blew a tense breath, sorting through every symbol in front of her. She had not a fucking clue where to start. She brushed the scribble on the page with her finger, trying to imagine in her head what trace could follow. She set that particular page down on the ground, grabbing the chessboard and using it to press down the edge of the page. Keeping it in place with the weight. Piece of paper still tried to escape, though. 

Staring at the rest of the markings for a long moment, Nicole grew frustrated. She wasn’t any closer to finding the piece to connect the page on the ground. “Sure about that puzzle idea?” She wondered through clenched teeth, not lifting her head to see how Kit was doing. Finally, something clicked, as she lingered on a page with a similar flourish at the top. Nicole crouched, fighting against the paper trying to escape her grasp while she tried lining it up to the other one. The resistance alone meant— they were doing the right thing, no? When the pages lined up, right to the torn edges from their own doing, the incomplete ink lit up in a golden flash. “Shit, you may be right.”   

—

It was getting clearer and clearer that they likely weren’t going to walk away from this encounter as friends, and that was fine. Kit didn’t particularly need — or want — friends, anyway. She’d learned a long time ago that she was a lot better off on her own. If you cared less, it meant things hurt less. If you never let yourself grow attached to someone’s presence, their absence couldn’t gut you. You wouldn’t ache with it, wouldn’t feel it digging into you like a tangible thing. Caring had doomed her before, might doom her still. Loving Ezra had left ripples that still hadn’t entirely faded, after all. So… not giving a shit about Nicole was a good thing. Not giving a shit about anyone was a good thing. Kit would take care of Kit. She didn’t need friends. She wouldn’t mind allies, but it didn’t need to go any deeper than that.

“Yeah, well, you can be in charge of holding the pages down, then.” Kit had full confidence in her own ability to solve a puzzle… mostly because Kit tended to have full confidence in her ability to do anything and everything she set out to do. She could handle a puzzle set out by someone who liked trapping people in liminal spaces for undetermined reasons, and she could do it a lot easier if the pieces of that puzzle weren’t flying across the room. Maybe two heads made little difference when one of them was a self-proclaimed ‘bad at puzzles’ individual, but two sets of hands wasn’t a bad thing here.

She was a little curious about the sentience of the books, though it didn’t do anything to stop her from tearing the pages. After all, Kit had done far worse to far more sentient things with little regard and little guilt; the books meant very little to her beyond being a means to an end. “That’s the great philosophical question, isn’t it? Can things feel if they don’t experience that feeling in a way we understand? I don’t know the answer, by the way. Nobody does. That’s what fucking sucks about philosophy — it’s all questions, and none of them are the kind you can find an answer to. That’s why I prefer the hard sciences.”

She’d always liked answers that were concrete. It was why she’d spent lifetimes on her experimentations, why she’d continued long after she probably could have called it and just brought Ezra back as planned. Kit liked to know everything. In a way, the idea of a puzzle like this one was fun for her. She just would have preferred solving it without being locked in a room with a stranger, was all. 

“What else would it be?” She grumbled, looking at the pages. Surprisingly, it was Nicole who figured out the pattern; Kit was only a little jealous. “Of course I’m right,” she murmured, grabbing another page excitedly. She lined it up with the pattern on the pages Nicole had put together, earning another golden flash. “Shit. Come on, we’ll have this done in no time, okay? Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

—

Weren’t all sciences hard? Nicole grew up with the certainty that all sciences were studied by a very unique type of person. At least to her, who found more joy outdoors, breeze against her skin, than hunched over books. She was missing something, surely — it was often the case with her— between the discussion of book sentience and ciphers, her brain appeared to have gone into overdrive. “Uh— yeah,” she mumbled non-committal, purely out of politeness. Perhaps she shouldn’t have forced Kit into taking a serious stance. While slightly irritating, at least she was able to understand her initial jokes. It became increasingly obvious that Kit had intellect far beyond what Nicole could keep up with, now that they were on equal ground. 

They had both put all their energy into completing the puzzle, and the conversation slowed down to scarce, the only way Nicole would ever be of any help. Yes, she could be in charge of holding the pages down, as Kit referred it to. And she did, once it became evident that there was a puzzle to build, she stepped aside to let Kit handle it. Only intervening when the next piece was an obvious one. The sheet grew larger and more resistant to their actions, though in in turn, it became easier to manipulate for two hands. She made sure always to keep something heavy around the edges, to prevent the paper from floating away.

Kit went on solving the puzzle, working faster to recognize patterns than Nicole ever could have, and the drawing spread along the pages like ivy. She couldn’t decipher what the big picture was yet, but the traces consisted of spirals and straight lines. The closer they got to finding every page, the angrier the room got, protesting their progress. There was again, in the back of her mind: The question of sentience. How did the room know? Regardless, it did, a discarded book shooting up and flying across the air with the intention of hitting either of them. She ducked, grabbing Kit’s wrist to lower her to the ground with her. “Can you finish this here?” The sheet of paper jerked beneath them, trying to fly away again, but it was stuck under the weight of the table, the chessboard, and Nicole and Kit’s knees. She wasn’t sure for how long.

More pages fit on the ground, and Nicole racked her brain for any ideas as to what they were solving or how it was meant to aid their escape. The drawing took on a circular, spiral outline, and the hard lines in the middle made it look— was it? Steps? “A staircase?” A two dimensional staircase, on the ground. Ground that shook like an elevator dropping once they were a piece away from completion. “Fuck,” the bookcases toppled to the ground, missing her back by a few inches. “The fuck are we supposed to do with this?” she pointed at the almost finished puzzle, watching Kit line up another piece. It was a staircase, there was no mistaking it anymore. If she chose to suspend disbelief— what the fuck could she do at this point? Should this staircase… lead to an exit? Fuck if she was going to be the first to try, though. It was ridiculous. She struggled to believe it would work. Kit secured the final drawing, right in the middle, and the stair lit up in a soft gold glow. “Should we— should… Go!”  

—

Confusion flickered across Nicole’s face, and Kit racked her mind for a moment trying to determine what it was she’d said that could be misinterpreted. She was good with people, most of the time. It was a necessary trait of being a doctor, the kind of thing you had to learn if you didn’t want a thousand complaints about your bedside manner racking up and giving you the reputation of problem child. Dr. House could only get away with the whole ‘asshole to everyone’ thing because he was a fictional white man; things definitely didn’t work like that for people in Kit’s position. But… it was difficult to use her practiced bedside manner on Nicole. It was difficult to understand Nicole, to interpret what it was she was thinking. Kit wanted to chalk it up to the oddness of their situation, but she wasn’t sure she’d find Nicole any easier to deal with in the hospital or on the street on a normal day. 

So she focused on the task at hand instead. She kept her hands busy, because that was all she could do. They’d solve this puzzle — Kit through putting the pieces together, Nicole through holding those pieces in place — and they’d get out of here. And they’d probably never see each other again, and Kit liked that. She preferred it that way. People who were impossible to understand the way Nicole was weren’t particularly fun to be around, and Kit rarely wasted her time with things she didn’t find fun unless it was absolutely necessary to do so.

Luckily, the puzzle was a little fun once she got into it. Kit loved puzzles, yearned for the thrill of satisfaction that came with fitting two pieces together and seeing the final picture take place. She didn’t recognize the symbol being formed by this particular puzzle, but she knew she’d spend hours researching it after the fact. Already, she was working to memorize the lines and curves so she could recreate it for her research. It’d be a lot easier to do in her apartment, where no papers were moving around and shooting off in different directions. “Yeah,” she muttered in response to Nicole’s question. “I got it. Don’t worry. I just need one… more…” There. 

Once all together, the symbols twisted to form a more familiar shape. Stairs. For a moment, Kit was confused. But then, the stairs were glowing, and the metaphorical pieces clicked into place with the same certainty as the physical ones had. Grabbing Nicole by the arm, she rushed the flat staircase on the ground. “Oh, if this doesn’t work, we’re going to look so stupid,” she muttered. But, thankfully, the staircase didn’t remain two dimensional. She stepped onto it and descended, little by little, with Nicole in tow. The room around them faded, turning first to a pitch black, dark and empty space, and then slowly lighting up into… an alleyway. The last few steps were skipped as Kit jumped to the concrete, her shoes pounding against solid concrete. 

—

Nicole had no fucking clue how a two dimensional drawing was supposed to become a legitimate escape route. She let out a low, irritated grumble, agreeing with Kit’s statement. Yeah, they already looked pretty damn stupid standing over a paper sheet waiting to be transported to another dimension. Kit was brave enough to risk another hit to the ego, motioning her descent down the flight of stairs. Nicole watched, disoriented as her perception of depth was tested. It worked, Kit was going down the stairs. How the fuck— A warm hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her from elucubrating any further. Right. Time to get the fuck out of the magical room.

She followed carefully, each step disappearing behind her as they walked down, engulfed by darkness. So much so, that Nicole wasn’t sure if there were any more steps, or if she was simply marching in the same spot. Inky black surroundings gave way to a dim corridor, and eventually what appeared to be an alleyway. One that looked decidedly mundane, like it could be found in the real world. Dumpsters were lined against a greasy wall, so full with trash it scattered onto the concrete. The scent of reheated oil wafted to her nose. In the distance, cars hummed along the streets, drowned by the sound of human chattering close by. They were home, there was no question about it. 

Nicole craned her neck back to where they came from, but any trace of ink or book pages had faded. As if it had all been in their heads the whole time. But it wasn’t, she was certain. She wasn’t the type of person who could create fantastical scenarios in her head. No. Despite her reticence to fully process what transpired, it was real. She glanced at Kit, slowly letting everything sink in. Slowly settling back into her awkward self. No more conversation was needed. They had joined efforts for a goal and that was it. That was it. There was an unspoken sentiment of relief, despite the lingering adrenaline pulsing in her veins. “Guess this is it,” she breathed out, dusting the side of her jacket, despite it being perfectly clean.

She shuffled nervously, expecting Kit to go her way. Nicole wasn’t the type of person someone like Kit would’ve become friendly with, and there was no judgment on her part. Nothing but understanding, truly. Far too different personalities to ever mesh. However, “thanks for solving the puzzle,” she shrugged, her tone laced with some finality. “So I’ll— I’m, uh— going this way,” her thumb jutted toward the only exit in the alley. Where else could she go? Fuck. Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she nodded at Kit to gesture her goodbye and shifted past her. The sound of her footsteps echoed, her figure disappearing as she took a turn left, toward a busy street.