Zigzag Logic (Bill Cipher X Reader)

Journal Zero

A/N: Honestly I am super surprised about the huge amount of attention the new chapter got so quickly. I mean... nine votes in the span of two days! For a Bill fanfic no less! I freaking love you all. And because I love you all so much, I'm going to subject you to the torment of my art next chapter by either drawing edgy Bill or human Bill facial expressions. You can vote. Soon I will deliver. Back to the story~!

You had been walking for a good three hours now, well out of the earshot of any of the Pines family. You held Journal Zero close to your chest as you began to tire, realizing you had been practically running for three hours straight. 

You looked around at the scenery before you. White snow blanketed the whole forest and glittered in the noon sunlight. You looked at the trees, huge and monstrous but still hiding the majority of themselves under the blanket of thick snow. That was the only thing that freaked you out during the winter. Every step you took was filled with the fear you may step in a stray air pocket underneath the frigid white fluff, falling in and never to be heard from again. 

You remembered one time when you went to the mountain with a few of your friends to enjoy a stay in your mountain house while your mother drove a bunch of screaming thirteen- to fourteen-year-olds to whatever mountain attraction they pleased. You all ended up in a popular sledding site and decided to explore. While exploring the deeper reaches of the site, you were the one to come across a curious dip in the snow, accented by the sky blue line going along the bottom of this dip. Being the inquisitive teen you were, you began to walk toward it to investigate and soon found yourself stuck, unable to free the trapped leg. The creek you had fell into began to seep into your snow boot, freezing your already cold foot. Already a distance away from your friends, your cries for help turned to loud screams until one of them finally heard you. It was a struggle to pull you out, as neither were you strong, but you were not flexible enough to contort your leg to where it needed to be as well. During the struggle you almost pulled your friend in with you, but everything ended well and you just left with the knowledge not to go sticking your nose into dips in the snow. 

That was a moment you always thought about when walking through the seemingly harmless frozen rain. Just like everything else, it hid death behind every perfect attribute. 

Your weariness was finally beginning to catch up to you, however, and you were forced to sit down and rest. You looked up toward the mountain top, and toward the triangular rock in the center of the crater. You were much closer than you were three hours ago, and hypothesized you had fewer than five hours to go. If you kept pace, of course. 

You looked down at Journal Zero, staring at the silver hand before you in a kind of awe. You wanted to read it, but you were afraid you would only be met with a language you could not decipher. Despite that, your curiosity won you over and you opened the book to strangely... the modern English language.

There were a few ciphers here and there, but you had no intention of focusing on those quite yet. You found yourself more interested in the introduction page of the book. The first page was a drawing of a man who seemed to be of Native American descent. He wore an extravagant headdress of goose feathers, his shirt and pants were neatly woven cloth with intricate designs on them as he wore a long coat made of leather. He had a large nose and a thin mouth, but the most notable feature of the man were two six-fingered hands shown clearly in the drawing, both seeming to be more carefully drawn than the rest of the portrait. 

You turned your attention to the writing on the next page, titled, "Hello."

"Hello. I am Nikotwasik, or Six in your language. (Ugh. I spent like thirty minutes trying to search "Man with Six Fingers" in the Cherokee language but no luck. This word I'm using now isn't even Cherokee XD I literally could not find ANYTHING numerical in Cherokee *angery author*) I have been given this name by my father, the chief of my village. Often I am shunned by my fellow brothers and sisters, and so I went off in search for a reason why the spirits had burdened me with such a deformity. Throughout my travels, I came across many a monster that more often than not threatened my physical being. I wrote about these strange beings so different from our animals back at home. The beaver may have large rodent teeth to chop down trees for means of redirecting the forever-flowing rivers, but the teeth on some of these creatures could bite straight through me lengthwise. The falcon whose slender body and feathered wings allow for flights of incredible speed could not match to the pure destructive power of the hawk with tendrils instead of a beak, who uses said tendrils to grip onto anything and tear it in two. And the strangest creature I met throughout my travels was a triangle with a singular eye placed upon his two-dimensional body. Yellow as the sun, yet black as the night. He held a silver tongue behind his faceless exterior and charmed me with flattery of the highest regard, saying I was further beyond that of my brethren, my curse of an extra finger being an indication of my right to rule. He said he would help, he only needed a single thing from me. 'Atop the fallen brother Wy'East,' he began with a tone that laced demand, 'You must peer into the core of his heart and throw your tribe's most precious artifact into the water made of fire. Only then will you be able to overtake your father's place in the tribe.' With little to no hesitation, I complied and shook his hand. The appendage suddenly burst into cool, blue flames that did no harm. That was one of the many mistakes I made with this mischievous spirit who claimed to have ties to my tribe. He told me he was a spirit of good faith, the spirit who chose rightful chiefs. 

He lied.

I should call him a word I do not have in my own language, but you have in yours, goose. He was a demon. When I returned from my expedition to the top of Wy'East, I found my village burned to the ground, covered in a familiar blue fire. His cackling laughter rang through my ears mockingly. 

I have since asked the real spirits for help. And that is how I am talking to you, long after I have left this soil."

You looked at the book in shock. Not because of the story of Bill- god knows everyone except Bill has been shoving horror stories of him down your throat- but because the book seemed to know you were there, reading it. You shut the book, unable to read more. You would read more later, the next time you stopped. 

You stood up, and began to walk once again, remembering why you were by yourself. You were going to make your way to Bill, and you were either going to stop him, or join him. 

And no one, not even this seemingly sentient book, was going to stop you.

A/N: Sorry these chapters are a little short. I'm trying to lengthen it and add some more lore before reaching the climax of the story, so you'll be getting a lot of the italicized text in the next chapter. Don't worry, though, after that the fun begins.