#heygraecie

Escaping was in It's best interest, too; so they had run away together. She hadn't had any plan past that point, except to hope that she might figure out a way to get Zam back, or else that their friends back at the Academy would figure it out and then find them, and to pray to the Shepherdess that she hadn't lost her brightest light for good.

It didn't have the same qualms. Squirreled away in a cave invisible from the air, far enough that the towers of the capital and the Academy were long since out of sight, It had gleefully gotten back to the business of being alive.

Graecie sorted through the ritual ingredients chest. Organizing was not her strong suit—that was usually Legs's job, or Zam's—but It didn't have the patience for it, and had delegated the task to her, and she really didn't want to make it angry. They'd been slowly building up stores of ritual goods; It was nigh-fanatically interested in learning magic, and Graecie herself didn't know what possible other avenue Zam's salvation could come from if not another ritual. They had basic things—feathers, saplings, stones and metals, some precious amethyst shards. It was harder to find them, without access to the Academy's portals or the capital market, but It was determined. And it had added its own things to the pile: more gruesome things. Pelts and teeth and claws and tongues. Vials of blood. Hearts and eyes. She didn't want to touch them, and used sticks to nudge them into their own piles with shaking hands. No pearls, no stars, no obsidian; none of these cornerstones of the powerful rituals that Zam made common practice of. It was both a relief and a hindrance, a hobble on both It and herself.

She was so desperately out of her depth.

Graecie wasn't the ritual-smith; she was the assistant, the moral support. Her job was to sit and marvel at how genius her friends were, not to devise a way to banish a demon all on her own, in a cave without proper materials, and all in secret to boot. Every day she sorted the ingredients chest and tried to work out how she could combine them to somehow, somehow get Zam back. And every day she slipped closer to despair.

Oh, she missed her bells; It had confiscated them. Their absence weighed on her almost as much as her friends'.

She had to stay strong, she reminded herself, with fervency borne of desperation. Stay bright. If she let the fear and hopelessness sink their claws into her heart, the wolves would come to prey on her, and then what would happen to Zam? She reached for her mana with a self-soothing instinct, drawing her goddess's blessing down around herself. They weren't alone. The Shepherdess would guide their path through this wretched darkness.

She missed Fleece. She'd left both their dragons back at the academy, to spare them from It's curiosity.

"Hello." The cool, dispassionate voice from the entrance to the cave signaled It's return from its daily… activities.

Graecie spun around, nervously clutching her hands in front of her as she quickly took in the state of the thing wearing her very best friend's body.

It's hands—Zam's hands—were stained with gore halfway up to the elbow, some of it in dark, dry streaks and some still dripping from its long fingers. Graecie looked away, bile rising in the back of her throat; she would never get used to way it wore its cruelty the same way it wore Zam's body: openly, mockingly, taking pleasure in the way it hurt.

"Here, catch," It said, and Graecie fumbled to look back fast enough to catch what it threw at her. She squeaked in horror and almost dropped the thing as she recognized it: a unicorn horn, bits of skin and stringy flesh still clinging to the base where it had been, apparently, ripped from its host by sheer strength. Sick to her stomach, she hoped the poor thing was at least already dead when it happened. Her standards for the best outcome had dropped precipitously since she began living with a demon.

Said demon was still talking, either unaware of her reaction or, equally possible, enjoying it. "Those creatures appear to have some magical properties, no? We will experiment with their unique features as ritual components."

"Y-yes, of course," Graecie stammered, in a high, strained voice. She hastened to drop the horn into the component chest and scrubbed her hands on her skirt, as if she could wipe away the vestiges of cruelty with the blood. Her dress was no longer white, after all this time; she struggled to remove all the dark stains.

She turned around and pasted on a bright smile. Be bright, be bright, don't let your heart be weak. "I made some mushroom rice," she said, speaking quickly to try and get as much out as possible before the demon interrupted. "Your—Zam's recipe. It's really, really good. Do you want to try it?"

It closed the distance between them with long, loping steps, making use of Zam's leggy height the way Zam herself almost never did outside of a crisis. It loomed over her and—smiled, drawing Graecie's attention to the red smear at the corner of its mouth. "Oh no, don't worry," it said, in a mockery of cheer. "I already ate. Those horned creatures are delicious, it seems."

Graecie's stomach dropped, and at the same time she was somewhat pathetically grateful that it had been hungry enough to eat in the field. When it had discovered that using a mundane knife—as opposed to Zam's fiery enchanted weapons—produced a different quality of meat, it rapidly gained a taste for raw flesh. And when it just as quickly realized how distraught it made Graecie, It had developed a habit of bringing its dinner home with it, ripping gobbets of bloody meat from a carcass to toss down its gullet as conspicuously as possible.

Her heart ached for Zam; it was so horrible to witness It's misuse of her body from the outside, and she couldn't even imagine how much worse it must be to experience it all, locked away inside, helpless to do anything…

It took in her distress, her wobbling lip, her hands clenched in her skirts, and smirked. And then, all at once, it got bored, smile dropping from its face as it brushed past Graecie, gaze moving past her deeper into the cave. "This body is tired now," It announced. "I'm going to rest."

"Wait," Graecie blurted out.

It stopped. It turned a withering look on her, but it stopped. "What," it said flatly. It lost its patience with her so quickly, once it was done toying with her.

"If—if you're done for the day, then—then could you—I—I did everything already, I cleaned the whole cave, I sorted the chests, even, you can look, it's all organized! Can I—can I see her? Please?" The words came tumbling out of her in a desperate rush, her hands twisting so hard in her skirts it hurt. This was the most terrifying part of the day; not the gore, not the threats, not the horrorshow mockery of her dearest and most beloved friend paraded around in front of her. It was this, when she laid her heart in the hands of the demon and let it decide how hard to squeeze.

Be bright. Be bright.

"Hmm." It hummed and glided back over to her, taking her chin in its long, spindly fingers. Its grip was deceptively strong, digging painfully into her jaw and leaving bloody smears on her skin. It never hurt when Zam touched her, ever. Zam was always so, so gentle. So careful, so scared of hurting her even the slightest bit. The contrast brought tears to her eyes before the pain. "You can see her right now, can't you?" It asked, a mocking smile spreading across its face. "Her body's right here. And she can see you, too, by the way. You should hear her begging me not to hurt you. How pathetically do you think she'd cry if I did anyways?"

"Please," Graecie begged. She didn't care about the threats; she didn't care about herself, except that it would hurt Zam to see her body used that way. "Please."

The demon hummed again, thoughtfully, and Graecie knew it was considering what would hurt her more: denying her request, or acquiescing to it. Graecie set her jaw and stared back, bracing for the answer.

The corner of its lips curled up, and her heart sank. She could already hear the pleased, "No," the abrupt dismissal. It happened, sometimes, when the demon was feeling more inclined to a blunt approach to cruelty.

But instead, it said, "Mm. Fine," and Graecie gasped, her heart leaping. She held her breath, eyes frantically searching its eyes for signs of a reversal. It did that, too, sometimes, agreed and then walked it back right after, just to rub in the power it had over her. But the demon, in a rare mood, only said, already bored and snappish with it, "You can have five minutes. Remember the rules."

Graecie nodded, as much and as quickly as she could with It still holding her in place. "No weapons," she said, parroting the rules established the first time It had decided to indulge her begging. "No magic." No blessings, either, because It didn't care about the distinction. She gulped. "And no running."

It nodded, pleased with her desperation. It used its grip on her chin to give her head a shake. "Break the rules and you'll both regret it. Okay?"

And then its grip went slack, and its hand started trembling, and Graecie, staring into its eyes with her whole body tensed, like a pet waiting at the door for its beloved master to come home, went weak in the knees because oh. There she was. Zam.

"G-Graecie," Zam stammered, her voice thick with tears.

"Zam," Graecie sobbed, and launched herself into her arms.

Zam curled around her like a cocoon, quivering hands pressed against her back with agonizing gentleness and her face buried in Graecie's hair like there was safety to be found there. There would be new bloody handprints on her dress, but she didn't care. Graecie held her back with equal ferocity, her fingers cramping with the effort of getting a grip on the smooth metal of her suit, cheek wedged against the hard edge of her crystal.

"It's okay, it's okay," Graecie whispered over Zam's muffled cries. Her whole body ached with the urge to cast a blessing and envelop them both in her goddess's light; but the looming presence of the demon held her back. Five minutes really meant two, already; and breaking one of the demon's rules would see Zam disappear like shadows before a torch, no matter how many times she tried to argue that it was't really magic. All she could do was repeat, like a prayer, "I'm here, I'm right here, okay? I'm right here."

"Graecie," Zam hiccupped. She was shaking like a leaf, all her alien strength transformed into something terribly fragile, clinging to Graecie like she was the only solid thing in the world. "I—I'm sorry, I'm so s-sorry—"

"Shhh," Graecie hushed, her voice hitching. "You have nothing to apologize for, nothing—"

"No, no, Graecie," Zam interrupted her, fingers curling in the back of her dress. Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper, as if that could hide it from the demon in her mind. "Listen. Please. You have to go. Recall back to the school—"

Graecie went cold all over. "No," she said, shaking her head firmly.

"Please," Zam begged. "I don't want to hurt you."

"No, Zam, no," Graecie insisted. She pulled back to take Zam's face in her hands. She could barely see through her curtain of tears. She hated that she couldn't see Zam clearly in the few precious moments when she was truly herself. "I'm not leaving you. Okay? I'm staying right here. As long as you're here, I'm here. I promise."

Zam pushed closer and Graecie let her, wrapping her arms around her neck. Zam pressed her face against her temple and breathed, barely audible, "Kill me."

Graecie's heart dropped. She tightened her grip, holding Zam tighter like she might turn to mist and slip through her fingers. "No," she said, gulping for air. "No, no, no, no, no."

"What other option is there?" Zam demanded. "It's too dangerous, it's gone on too long—"

She stopped talking abruptly, straightening up to her full height and pulling out of Graecie's arms with no apparent effort.

"You humans are so…" It looked her up and down with obvious distaste. "Wet."

Graecie scrubbed at her face, hiccuping as she tried to stifle her sobs. This was why It allowed her to see Zam, she knew; this despair that crashed down on her the moment she was gone. But it was worth it. It was worth anything, to know that Zam was still in there, waiting for her to find a way to free her.

"I gave you what you asked for, didn't I?" It continued. "It's not very kind to stand there sniffling at me. I thought you cared about manners."

She took a deep breath. "Thank you," she whispered, pathetic even to her own ears. She kept her gaze fixed on her own white-knuckled hands, unwilling to look It in the eyes and see Zam's absence.

It hummed, momentarily pleased, but quickly again grew tired of her. "You've had your fun. I'm actually going to rest now. Feel free to run away, I suppose."

"No, I—" Graecie swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I'll be here when you wake up."

It laughed, a delighted, mean chuckle. "I know," it said, and then brushed past her, and she was alone again.

Graecie collapsed to her knees, pressing her skirt against her mouth to muffle her sobs. It didn't like loud noises.

Shepherdess guide my path, she prayed, silently. Her bells, she wanted her bells, and she wanted Zam back so much she might die. "I'm sorry," she gasped, to her goddess or Zam or both. "I don't know how to fix it and I'm so scared. I'm trying to be strong, and—and be bright. For both of us. But I don't—I can't—"

She buried her face in her hands and cast her blessing, again and again until her mana ran dry and she was swaying on the spot, her black spots swimming in her vision and lungs gasping for air.

"Okay," she whispered, and wiped her tears. "Okay."

Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet and smoothed out her skirts. The simple fact of the matter was she couldn't give up, no matter how hard things were. The only thing more horrible than going on like this was the thought of leaving Zam here, abandoned and alone.

She took a deep breath, and then another, already deciding what chores needed to be done while the demon was sleeping. She should get some more water and firewood. They were running low. Best to do it before night fell.

Work in progress shots: