The Restoration Protocol

39 || please (don't) save him

The castle creaks and sways as Mariko tries to steady her body and mind. A strong gust of wind blew through the door from the other room not long ago. She didn't hear it, but she felt it, and now it rolls over her skin as though she isn't wearing a coat at all. Prying underneath the layers like cold, decrepit fingers. It truly does feel like a living thing. Every part of Hollowmire. From the wind to the castle walls, to the ground beneath her feet, all parts of a greater force, functioning together for the same purpose. For Riis's purpose, the man who has yet to show himself since his 'guests' arrived.

He must be watching from somewhere, Mariko thinks. Pulling the strings as the true puppeteer. She lost sight of Soleil out of nowhere. Perhaps he lured her away by some sort of illusion, too, with the intention of separating her from Mariko. It's plausible. Now the holder of his stolen key is alone in the room.

Mariko clutches her knife with one hand, the keys around her neck with the other. Her eyes scan the staircases on either side of the hall. Riis is nowhere to be found. And she's still not sure if she wants to find him at all. She's only here for Sebastian. She repeats this to herself again and again, but the compelling memory of Jugo lying unconscious with the wolf's head in his hand continues to gnaw at her conscience. The distant sounds of crying and the bitter absence of comfort. Riis, kneeling beside his other half, creating for himself a perch to affix to Jugo's shoulder...

It feels like a cry for help. All of it. It feels like Riis is crying for help.

Taking another shallow breath, Mariko decides to climb one of the staircases. She still trembles from her own thoughts. It happened again. Not only did she forget her mother had passed away, she forgot she was the one to first discover her mother's guilt. Yet she lied to herself. She lied for her mother's sake, and her own. Delving so deep in a lie that it became the truth to her.

It sounds familiar. Mariko stops halfway up the staircase, gripping the railing like a lifeline. The memory of the prince's voice circles back inside her head.

"For the longest time, I supposed it was simply because Jugo wanted a friend, when he had none...which I can understand, but it's gone on so long now that I believe even Riis has fooled himself into believing he is someone else..."

It sticks a pin in her brain. A sharp, violent pin. She remembers what Riis said to her back on the aerowhale ship as well.

"You must have lost everything...I mean, for you to go to such lengths...is your other life so horrific? Do you think you're going to make it all better this way?"

Could he have known then, she wonders, just by looking into her eyes. He mentioned that something about her got under his skin. It must have been this. Seeing her must have reminded him of his own guilt, his own web of lies that have created for him a hole so deep he can't climb out of without everything falling in on him. He was talking to himself as much as he was talking to her.

"Do you want to destroy us, Miss Mariko? Will it bring back what you lost?"

No...no, and no again. She told him no back then, and her mind hasn't changed. Mariko grits her teeth and hurries up the rest of the stairs, carefully slipping her knife back into the sheath on her belt. She doesn't want to use it. She'll never raise it against Riis, she tells herself, even if he raises a weapon against her. It was jarring enough seeing her knife in Sebastian's stomach – even if it were a false memory. She's not trying to be a hero. She just doesn't want anyone to get hurt. She's tired of people getting hurt because of her.

She decides to check the door at the top of the staircase. In the real Greenhouse Manor, this would normally lead to a hallway, a collection of guest rooms on one side, a gorgeous, sunlit view of the garden on the other. But this isn't the Greenhouse Manor. Behind the door, Mariko discovers just one bedroom. But a familiar one nonetheless. It's the castle's master bedroom. The large open chest where Soleil had found Jugo's key is still here, sitting at the foot of the unmade canopy bed. But there are new scratches on the wall. Torn blankets are strewn across the floor. An assortment of objects have been pushed off dressers, broken glass now littering the space. Someone — or something — came through here and left their mark.