Hymns of Struggle

8- Magi

Author's Note: This chapter's art is by MetallicArtist on tumblr.

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"Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you." – Matthew 7:7

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Slither.

He saw several meters ahead at the end of the room a true Peter Pan shadow, a black stain in the corner of his sight that retreated the moment he tried to place it. Normally he wouldn't think much of it- they were merely the vermin of the pipes- but a weight over his spine had relayed a sharp warning.

She'd have to learn to deal with the searchers sometime- or rather, he would have to deal with the aftermath of their introduction- but he didn't have the tolerance for that today. Maybe never. His exasperation grew every time she reacted to more of his reality...her new home. He wondered if she had accepted that yet or if this too would be his responsibility. He tried and failed not to resent the position Bendy chose for him, a swish of guilt and displeasure that couldn't mix but kept striving to.

That resignation, however, created a problem. Past where the searcher roamed was the only path to his retreat.

The only physical path.

At the sharp bend also awaited the visage of his savior, intricate lines drawn behind it like rays of divine light. Ah, he had forgotten about that pentagram. Dragging himself step by step until his round, misshapen feet rested before the portal, he bowed as best he could and still balance without dropping her or himself to the floor. Admittedly he was unsure if Bendy truly used his likeliness to supervise his realm, but the prophet believed the gesture itself to be proper respect regardless. Nothing could be too frivolous if it was done in worship. He was then free to carefully pick it up with barely one hand to spare, leaving the star vacant.

Briefly, he wondered what would happen to her. Things he carried in always seemed to emerge alongside- no damage, no harm, not even a scrape. But all of them had been washed in the first tide of ink. She was not. Malice consumed him.

"Ah well."

She must have been hallucinating because she could swear she saw his legs press through a solid wall.

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It was a chamber heavily swamped in shadow, her own flattened against the wall and dancing with candlelight.

It was beautiful. It was horrid.

She must have lost focus from the exhaustion, much to her dismay. They were walking and now she was here. An expletive slit her throat. She'll be dead in no time if this is how she her body reacts to this kind of stress.

There would surely be more to come, ready to take her for good.

Such certainties had to be shoved into the dark, at least for now. Not now, not now. Life outside her own pinched the fuse before it burned to self-destruction.

She didn't know when he'd be back. When did she hear the steps? Her most recent memory was a shuffle and a dizzy panorama up to the ceiling as she laid on the floor. The rotting face of a demon diminished to a new moon of oil as he turned his head away to leave.

This may be the only opportunity to be alone for the rest of her life. Wisdom froze her in place and sped time; she knew this was precious...but not how.