𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒 | [𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖐𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙]

⇢ 𝟎𝟒 ˗ˏˋ 𝙰 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛࿐ྂ

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Once (Y/N) saw Marc's hooded figure run away through the roofs of the city's buildings, she and Layla knew that they had to leave as soon as possible to avoid getting spotted by Harrow or any of his followers.

(Y/N) climbed into her bike and Layla did the same with hers, almost ready to take off before the latter's attention drew onto something else. (Y/N) felt Layla jab her in the ribs to catch her attention, and she was ready to complain when she signaled her to be quiet and look.

An innocent man was picking up something small from the floor, and (Y/N) didn't find anything strange about it until she heard that familiar voice again.

"I'm sorry, but that belongs to me," Harrow strutted into (Y/N)'s sight and she could barely make up his full form because she was hidden in an alley. "I can offer you food, clothing, but I am unable to offer you this. Thank you."

(Y/N) squinted her eyes to have a better look at what Harrow was doing, taking the object away from the man's hands but lingered his touch on his palms.

She didn't think that much of it until she saw the poor man strangely tremble and his body jerk to the side before his knees gave up and made him collapse. Harrow still stood above the man without acting bothered about the whole thing, and now (Y/N) finally noticed what he had in his hands. It was the scarab.

With terror in her eyes, Layla started the engine of her bike and knocked (Y/N) off her train of thought, remembering that she had to leave before Harrow noticed either of them.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

On the other hand, Marc sat down on his knees in some sort of outdoor stage, far away from the place he'd last seen (Y/N) in. He finally had control of his body again, and the exhaustion from the previous fight with the jackal and the frustration of losing the scarab was taking a toll on him.

"So, this is what it's like?" Steven's voice cut the silence. Marc turned his head to look behind him to find Steven's reflection on the broken mirror in the center of the stage. "Being on the inside?"

Marc nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Steven's figure in the reflection was standing up unlike Marc, holding his hands together with trembling fingers. "It's horrible."

"It's all right. You're all right."

"I feel like I can scarcely move."

"It's all right, just breathe through it. It gets easier."

"How long have you been doing this?"

Marc's shoulders sagged and his expression hardened, though it was evident in his eyes that he held a certain amount of guilt. "I don't know. It's. . .a long time."