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TO Rewrite: B3 — 22. The Eldritch Hare Returns
🕑 Added 2024-12-10 23:39:06 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Rachel Park (Our Lunar Hare!)
2. Grace (Our Cowgirl!)
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The desert writhed below Rachel, every breath of it alive with violence. Waves of molten glass slashed through the dunes—her doing—their glow flickering like embers scattered across an endless black canvas. The air churned with the slow, deliberate spin of sand caught in orbit around her—each grain twisting, fighting against gravity’s forgotten laws.
Heat pulsed up from below, but the cold weight of the Black Moon crushed it flat. Every breath she took dragged frost into her lungs, a sharp, hollow chill that bit into her ribs and spread like poison. The world held its breath. So did she.
Her gaze lifted to the abyss above. The Black Moon bled across the sky—a roiling wound of shadow that swallowed the stars. It spun slowly, each rotation dragging threads of reality toward its center. Not air. Not light. Everything.
Rachel's chest tightened with it, the pull digging hooks into her bones, tugging her forward like an unseen leash. It wanted her, all of her. Rachel’s breath came short, sharp. The weight on her chest grew heavier with each inhale, her lungs fighting for space. The pull wasn't coming for her body—it was unraveling something deeper.
The first jolt hit her fingers. A sharp snap, like a live wire striking bone. Her body jerked with it, a shock that shot up her arms and detonated in her chest. Muscles locked. Her spine arched back as her heart slammed against her ribs, the pounding pulse echoing through every inch of her frame.
Another shock. Another. Her breath hitched, a shallow gasp that clawed its way out of her throat as her nerves lit up like fuses. She clenched her teeth, nails dragging against the air like claws digging for grip. Her body wasn’t changing. It was being remade in the light of the lunar spheres overhead.
Her skin buckled. No, not skin anymore. It peeled like old bark, layers of flesh twisting under the pressure. Silver light bled through the cracks, flickering in sync with her pulse. Her breath dragged out in a harsh rasp as fur erupted from her arms, sharp and jagged as broken glass, every hair stabbing through her flesh like needles of ink.
It didn’t stop. It shot up her shoulders, wrapped her throat, surged down her back in sharp, crawling waves. Her tail tore free in a snap of muscle and bone, the weight of it curling behind her like a living shadow, flexing with predatory intent. Her whole body trembled from the force of it, each shift of fur and flesh searing nerves in real time.
Her chest heaved, her breath fogging the air in short, ragged bursts. No stopping it. No slowing it down. The quake had hit her core, and now it was breaking everything in its path.
Rachel’s eyes flicked down to the world below. It flickered. A crack. Sharp. Sudden.
The dunes, the distant cityscape, the rising scarab army—all of it shattered in an instant, the world splitting like a mirror struck with a hammer. The fracture echoed in her skull—a hollow, booming thud she felt more than heard. The cracks didn’t stay still. They spread. Black lines tore through the air, jagged and endless, snaking out in all directions.
Pieces of reality drifted free, floating like shards of broken glass, their razor edges catching the faint glow of molten sand below. Her reflection stared back at her from each shard. No—not her. It was her and not her all at once. Her eyes met the gaze of another Rachel, a flickering echo that twitched and blinked out of sync.
Her fingers curled as she scanned the shards, each one showing glimpses of something new. Her past. Her future. Her choices. Her mistakes. The shard melted into liquid silver, sliding away from her grip like quicksilver. She stared at her reflection in the rippling surface, breath heavy, eyes sharp.
Her family. Faces she knew. Faces she needed to see. But the glow dimmed. The surface turned dark. Opaque. Her mother. Her father. Nam. Her grandfather. Her cousin. Gone. Her fingers twitched, teeth grinding as her lips pulled into a sharp snarl.
“Interesting,” she growled, her morphing eyes narrowing. “I’m blocked… Very well. Hide. But soon, I’ll peel back the layers and find you. I’m patient…”
Rachel’s gaze darted to Grace and the rest of her group, frozen in time before her focus wandered to the Eldritch vibes rippling up from the desert, the ancient army within awakening.
I can’t distract myself… I don’t have the energy. She peered past the desert and into the fabled earth as it trembled, seeing through cracks what spun to life throughout the solar system above. So, this is how you planned to strip me of power? It would work.
Stepping through a rift, she entered space to walk along a giant ancient weapon, composed of perfectly smooth black metal, making it invisible in the night sky. The solar rays around the sun didn’t reach her as she tilted her head left and right, on her passage around the star, analyzing every shard that slipped by her, feeding her information—not really strolling upon the Dyson sphere around the sun, but moving around it nonetheless.
Damned if we fight. Damned if we don’t. Damned if I let my hate go. Damned if I won’t.
Her tail lashed behind her as she skipped through another crack back into the desert, fur bristling in sharp spikes. Her teeth grew, longer and sharper, poking at her lower lip until it threatened to bleed. The shards spun faster now, flickering and flashing with glimpses of soldiers in shadow, of dolls thrashing against strings, of hags in bonfires and beasts crawling from the depths of the sea.
Worthless noise. Nothing matters. Damned if I leave. Damned if I stay… They blurred into one endless spiral, the storm of them tugging at her soul until she couldn’t tell where she ended and they began. Damned either way. When the lights go down, the truth comes out. It’s…too much for me alone. I feel you now in the dark. It’s checkmate. Before I even know who I’m fighting against. Damn you, Fate.
Bending over to stare into the sand, the cracks opened up to show the snow-laden footsteps in the snow that lead to Ali Baba’s Gate, a monstrous smile lifting her lips.
Unless… I sacrifice everything I have…and break reality itself.
Fingers lifting to her chest, where a flower bloomed, she pulled it out. The thorn-like roots spilled black ink from her open wound as she brought it up and bit the stem off, the reverberation sending shockwaves back to the very center of her being.
You want to play, Fate, hiding in the dark… Manipulating us all behind the scenes? I see what Twilight did to escape your strings. All her planning…but I’m different. I have something you fear… That all fear. And I’m crazy enough to open that door.
Sharp. Violent. Red. Its bleeding crystal petals unfurled slowly, each one precise, every motion deliberate. The Flower of Crimson Corruption infused with the Black Moon to open wide, its thorns curling toward her fingers as she let it go to land in the sands.
The air shuddered as its vampiric properties mixed with the Eldritch force pumping through her being, digging into the fabric of the Grim Tale World. It spread. It curled back in, reforming—adapting. So did Rachel. She breathed deep, eyes steady, lips curling into a grin so sharp it could cut reality itself. The Flower of Crimson Corruption twisted in the air, its petals flaring out like a crown of thorns, each one a living blade of blood-stained crystal.
Her breath came steady now, each exhale a slow, rolling fog that drifted around her like a shroud. Her pupils constricted, sharp as needles, as she reached into herself, past her heart, past her spirit, and into the web that bound her fate to another. Her pulse synced with Nia’s—a rhythmic cadence that matched the slow, deliberate bloom of the Flower.
“It’s time,” she breathed, her voice as constant as the pull of the Black Moon above. “You’re not ready for this, but that’s fine. You’ll learn to adapt with the pups helping.”
Her fingers opened wide, releasing the last petal of the Flower. A soundless boom rippled across the desert, distorting the air like a stone dropped into still water.
Bloom.
Every particle of pollen carried her will as the flower spread. Scarlet motes drifted into the air, drifting in spirals as if caught in the gentle swirl of unseen currents—time still frozen. The night swallowed them whole, but she felt them. Her presence exploded outward, multiplied a thousandfold. Each particle of the flower became her, every thread of lunar energy weaved into it. The world became a stage for her to step upon.
Her grin sharpened as her body flickered. A flash of red. A blur of black. And then, she was everywhere. An army, ready to receive the awakening guardians.
On the far side of the dunes, Rachel stood with her arms at her side, watching the molten glow of glass cool beneath her. Her eyes shifted left, looking through refractions at a distant city, one she shouldn’t be able to reach—Neil’scera, the City of Eternal Reflections—its gates hidden beyond the shifting haze of mist.
My power’s not enough to get there. I can beat this threat below while like this. Yet, still, I’ll lose to the shadow behind the veil. So, I’ll take two steps back… Release the power, and build up for the breach when the sky turns molten… When they strike.
Relaxing, Rachel strolled with her hands in her pockets across the sand, each step turning the grains beneath her white hot, liquifying. The Greater Harvest Moon left a haunting hum in her throat, her tail flicking behind her in a lazy sway. She passed one clone after another, each one locked in space as her Eldritch soul began to recede and shimmer. Her voice echoed in their hive minds like the resonance of a bell.
We’re about to have the fight of our lives… This will be fun. I’ll be here, preparing, so keep my spirits high and fight like hell. Crush them!
In unison, every clone shifted into action, moving fast enough to melt sand, yet barely twitching a finger to her. Energy coiled around her army like silver chains, each one gripping a phantom hammer that solidified into reality. The weapons pulsed with the glow of divine will, each clone infused with a single Unique Moon.
Rachel’s link with the Goddess of Victory burned bright, threading through her spirit like bright gold. You never thought I’d seek help, did you? Give up my pride for victory? Well, what if I’m not? What if this is the most prideful thing I could do? I’m loving this!
She felt them before she saw them—three distinct forces crackling through the air like thunder that appeared behind her. Rachel’s gaze lifted as reality twisted with the weight of their presence. The Hell Moon tore open, and from its wound, three figures emerged.
To her left, the air shimmered with the cold, suffocating weight of death itself. A long, flowing curtain of black hair rippled as the shadowy form of Izanami stepped into view, wrapped in her illusions to hide her rotting corpse.
Her eyes, dark as the depths of the underworld, fixed on Rachel with quiet amusement. Her movements were precise, each step like the toll of a funeral bell. Izanami’s lips curled into a half-smile as she tilted her head, speaking with a voice like the rustle of withered leaves.
“Foolish child. I knew you were one to keep an eye on. To think you would find a way to allow us beyond the Scarlet Wall, locked as we are in this realm.” Her words held no malice—only a curious smile. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t put a chain around my dear Yseress when you saw her. You thrill me and make me sigh, Rachel.”
On her right, light and shadow danced in a careful balance. One half of Hades’ face was cast in the warm glow of the living, the other bathed in the cold pallor of the dead. He leaned on his cane with casual ease, his eyes sharp with quiet calculation. A faint smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the scene like a chess player studying the board.
“Hmm. It seems you’re prepared to make a mess of things, mortal. I respect that.” His voice echoed with layers of authority and indifference. “Though, using us to provide the power to reach your destination will come at a steep price. You already owe my little pups your soul twice over and have yet to deliver on their chew toy.”
Between them, stepping forward with an air of silent regality, Persephone emerged, her eyes as luminous as the first bloom of spring after winter’s reign. Her gaze swept the battlefield, taking in every clone, every shifting mote of crimson pollen and the rising calamity.
“The path you’ve chosen is cruel.” Her voice carried the weight of fertile soil, rich with growth and potential, dark locks swaying around her figure. Persephone’s radiant eyes softened with something close to understanding. “But sometimes, cruelty is mercy in disguise. Husband, Lady Izanami,” she said, moving to stand beside her, which shocked Rachel a tad; she’d expected resistance.
Persephone’s face became one of subtle steel. “I have spoken to Athena, and I agree with her. It is better to reset the board to an even playing field…because, as things are, we are all damned. Due to my Positive and Negative affinities, with Izanami acting as the other half, we can stabilize your power, Husband, to bring Hades and Yomi’s united force into Rachel’s hands.”
Rachel’s tail flicked with renewed vigor, hands still in her pockets. Her gaze shifted from Izanami to Persephone, then to Hades, her grin sharpening. “Well, that is something I did not foresee. Izanami, Hades, Persephone.” Her tone was cool, every name a stone dropped into still water. “It’s been an eternity, hasn’t it?”
Izanami's grin widened, revealing false beauty. “Eternity is relative, child… And, while I agree, Lady Persephone, Rachel has yet to fulfill any of our challenges. To put such power inside the hands of a mortal, as interesting as Rachel is, has risks… Dangerous risks when dealing with uncertain forces like Eldritch beings.”
Persephone stepped forward to negotiate on her behalf but Rachel held up her hand with a half-smirk. “No need to waste time, Lady of the Damned. Name your price, Ladies, Lord,” she nodded toward them. “I see a game being played beyond the 7th Wall… I feel it reaches far further than that. To play on that level, I have to awaken something that will send ripple effects all the way up the ladder to zap whatever finger is prodding us.”
Her swirling, abyss-like eyes fixated on the thoughtful Queen of Yomi. “I get the urge to tease the hare, but we both know you three will help break this invisible chain none of us can see…because you hate those who try to control you. But I understand,” she giggled, placing a hand on her hip, “you are Rulers of Hell, after all. So name your price.”
Izanami’s gaze drifted to the slow-rising scarab army nearby. “My price? The soul of a certain demon ruler in Ireland. Give me Balor. You can outrun the devil, but you can’t outrun me. Yseress can deliver him.” Her grin turned wicked. “Your cat friend made an impression on my dear princess… Let’s hope your second encounter will be as fruitful.”
Rachel held up her tattooed arm as the Lady of Yomi’s power coiled around her, linking the tooth marks of the triplets with a rotten vine-like symbol. “Oh, a summoning ritual by calling her name? Must you add the wiretap function?” she asked with a sigh.
The devilish Japanese woman shook with quiet laughter. “Why so exasperated? It only activates when you speak about her. I thought it would be nice for her to have a little pen pal.”
“Fair enough… And you, Lord Hades and Lady Persephone?”
The woman looked at her husband, her mouth tight and somewhat demanding in a rather cute sort of way. Hades breathed out a long stream of air before a small smile lifted his handsome features.
“Make Cerberus a proud father and strengthen his daughters. Know that you cannot control them, and they are Hellhounds, Rachel… With the Scarlet Walls breached and our powers mixed, I can give you the ability to take them off their leashes for a limited time. Doing so, however, will drain you as their anchor and they aren’t known for their…restraint.”
Rachel’s ears quivered slightly, her mouth rising as his wife mirrored her reaction. “You’re saying I need to strengthen my soul… I feel like you’re trying to make your little pups into something deadly by having them resonate with me. You’re playing a long game here.”
“Isn’t he always,” Persephone whispered with a fond, loving note as she moved closer to pull him down and kiss his lips. “He’s my perfect dark knight… Doing everything in his power to protect me…but you do not need to repent. She…I understand you.”
Hades’ stoic face melted under her loving gaze, and even Izanami looked like she wanted to tear up…or rip them apart from envy—then again, the godly love pair were her relationship goals. It somewhat pricked Rachel’s twisted heart.
“Yes, yes,” Izanami said, clearing her throat and glancing toward her, the corruption she brought spreading through the sands. “With negotiations done… It is time for you to temporarily absorb the power of two Hell realms to crack whatever wall you’re seeing. Make it count. You only have one shot…”
Rachel didn’t flinch as the corrupted sand around the Hell Ruler surrounded her, the black flames and crimson lightning of Hades mixing with it to swirl around her. Persephone’s budding power of life and death connected with her husband and Izanami’s power, amplifying them.
Closing her eyes, Rachel allowed the three to prepare her main soul and body as will snaked through the thousands of luminous branches that spiraled from her soul, each strand a livewire of raw intent to take the fight to the Dark Djinn and what puppetted the fabled creature. Now, all there was to do was wait now that she had breached the 4th dimension, wait for the moment all her powers aligned to dash into the mirrorverse.
Of course, Fate wouldn’t allow her to enact this without resistance, and that was why she spread her clones. Dropping to her butt, she slipped back into the 3rd dimension. Exposing herself on a high dune, overlooking the battlefield. The three Hell Lords slipped beyond sight, their unseen weight pressing down like titans in the shadows.
Time snapped forward. Her eyes shot open, a grin carving sharp lines across her face. The sand churned violently, a tremor pulsing through the dunes as something vast and unyielding pushed free. Fingers of polished starmetal tore upward, each joint grinding with the weight of worlds. Grain by grain, the desert crumbled away from its rising form, jagged knuckles breaking through in a slow, unstoppable ascent.
The golem’s hand rose higher, sleek plates of supernatural metal catching the dim glow of the moons like a god’s forgotten relic clawing back to life—and this was only a guardian.
Her gaze flickered across the fissures of reality, every heartbeat a snapshot of chaos in motion. Rachel’s focus centered on Grace.
Let’s have some fun. The puppet princess and their invisible master will see me coming. Fate doesn’t want me to reach them… I don’t need to.
* — * — *
The sharp tang of desert air mixed with the grit of sand against her tongue as Grace’s boots crunched over the uneven ground. Her fingers hovered near the smooth grip of her revolver, eyes scanning the broken terrain. The chill of unease ran down her spine like a whisper of ice, and her gut told her something was about to pop off.
[Calamity Sense] screamed at her. [Combat Awareness] brought her mind into sharp gear and [Lesser Magic Eye] highlighted them as if surrounded by a red outline.
It’s comin’... Something huge. Like…the end of the world.
A flicker of movement caught her eye—bandit.
[Mental Acceleration - Rapid Mode: Activate]
Her heart kicked into a faster beat, muscles coiling. She pivoted, eyes locked on the figure darting through the haze of swirling sand, slowing to a crawl. Her fingers twitched, ready to draw, but—
[Calamity’s Luck: Activated]
BOOM!
A whirlwind of force slammed into her like a runaway bull. Her head snapped to the side as a deafening shockwave ripped through the air, dragging her breath from her lungs. Sand battered her face, hot and stinging, while her ears screamed in a hollow, high-pitched ring.
What the hell?!
Her body reeled, struggling to find balance, a firm grip yanked her back. El Santo’s ironclad arms locked around her waist as her boots barely skimmed the ground. Her eyes darted to him, but before she could make sense of his move, a flash of green light lit up the air.
A honeycomb barrier materialized in front of them, hexagonal patterns glimmering like emerald glass, enclosing their party in a protective cocoon—no, Rachel and Nia were gone.
Her chest heaved as she glanced around, heart rattling against her ribs. “What—the hell just happened?!” She coughed, trying to clear the sand from her throat, the taste of copper lingering on her tongue.
Dust churned like a straight hurricane, the wild cyclone whipping debris in every direction. The howling winds echoed in her ears, the vibrations humming through her bones, even through the shield.
Her gaze flicked past the barrier as she spotted the bandits tumbling through the air like broken dolls. They clutched their heads, blood trickling from their ears, eyes, and noses. The winds howled louder than their screams.
Red appeared inside the barrier in a swirl of petals and flickering light, her hand pressed firmly against one of her wolf ears. Her face scrunched into a grimace. “Shit! What was that?!”
Her wide, mismatched eyes darted around, scanning the storm outside the honeycomb wall. Her fingers massaged the base of her twitching ear, tail flicking anxiously behind her. “No, seriously. I’ve got chills. Feels worse than Elizabeth’s—”
Black tilted her head toward the storm, leaning with one leg bent and her arms crossed like she wasn’t remotely phased. Her eyes narrowed with an eerie calm. “Rachel and Nia,” she muttered, gaze tracking the molten line now streaking across the ground. “They’re not holding back anymore; here it comes.”
The molten rock hissed and sizzled, glowing bright orange beneath the shifting sand in a long trail to the distance gate—no, the gate was falling.
“The Boss?” Grace muttered, blinking hard to clear the spots dancing in her vision.
Her eyes struggled to focus on the glowing streak of molten stone now cutting a fiery scar across the landscape. The sand whipped at her clothes from the lingering gusts inside the shell, catching in her hair, but she barely felt it. Her attention was glued to that searing line of heat that carved through the ground like a wound left behind by some unseen lava monster.
Rachel and Nia did that…
Her breath hitched. A thrum of something deep, something old and alive, echoed beneath her boots. It wasn’t sound—it was pressure. It spoke from within the stone—through the stone.
[Legend’s Temperament: Failed]
Thud-thud.
“She didn’t want a daughter, did she? Just a shadow she could blame for every bottle she cracked open. No wonder you ran, little mustang. You were never hers, and she made sure you knew it. ‘Ungrateful girl,’ wasn’t that the phrase? Said it so many times it stopped hurtin', didn’t it?”
Her vision swam.
No! No, my mom never… Grandma? Her grandmother’s disgusted, line-etched face swam inside her mind. She was little, hands held over her head as the woman lashed out with a bottle—it hurt. Grandma…beat Mom? Mom ran away, too?
THUD-THUD!
The ground lurched like it had been yanked downward by a giant’s hand. Grace’s knees buckled, and her whole body slammed onto her backside. “Shit—are we going to die,” she growled, trying to scramble back up, but the quake didn’t stop. Her fingers dug into the rough ground as the tremor continued, making her teeth click together with every jolt.
Gray grunted, bracing himself against the green wall, his hat nearly knocked off his head. He sucked in a sharp breath and snarled, “This has to be a joke, Green. There’s no way any Mythickin has this much power yet.”
Then it happened.
Her mind went blank as something in the distance exploded. It wasn’t a simple detonation—not the flash-bang kind she’d seen in battle—it was light and heat and force on an entirely different level. The air itself recoiled, folding back like a curtain caught in the wind.
KA-KRAKOOM!
The world went white. Her vision blinked out in an instant, the shield her only defense against the blinding light, as if she’d been staring into the sun too long. Heat scorched the air, somehow raising temperatures inside the shield. And when her sight returned, everything was wrong. The small rocky rise to their right. It was gone. The bandits. Gone. The wall. Damaged. The very ground around the shell. Bowed. And in the distance, a cloud, as if a nuke had gone off.
“No…no, no, no,” Grace muttered, hands gripping her head like she could force her eyes to see something different. Her gaze darted to Green, whose face was twisted in pain. Her shield flickered, cracks spidering through its once-pristine surface.
Green hissed through her teeth, one eye squeezed shut. “The vibrations…are unreal…” she grunted, steadying herself as the cracks deepened. Her breath came in short gasps, her muscles visibly straining as she forced more energy into the barrier. Her gaze darted to Grace, eyes sharp with something close to fear. “Is…this really Rachel?”
The cracks spread further. Morgiana’s eyes distant, legs long given out as she sat beside Black and Green. Pop-pop-pop. One by one, the honeycomb hexes shattered.
“Shell’s failing—”
Her sentence never finished. The whole barrier collapsed at once with a deafening CRASH! Grace threw her arms up on instinct, expecting the storm and coming wall of kinetic force to crush them—only it didn’t. The sand didn’t hit her. The dust didn’t scrape her.
Her arms lowered slowly, eyes peeking open. Suddenly, it was quiet… Too quiet.
The first thing she saw was it.
A nightmare given form. It crouched in front of her like it had always been there—an anomalous hare that didn’t move, massive ears lifted high, but it still shifted. An ever-changing flower was framed against its chest—coiling, blooming, reversing.
The hare’s liquid-like body flickered between solid, fluid, and something far too unnatural for her mind to grasp. Its limbs stretched and retracted like paint swirling in water, and its grin—oh, God, that grin—was too wide, too full of jagged shapes that might be teeth.
Its eyes swirled with unending colors, none of which she could name, and every one of them spun in opposite directions like a kaleidoscope turned sideways. The world around it seemed to twist, reality curling toward it like it was the center of everything wrong in the world.
Her breath hitched, heart caught mid-beat.
Don’t look at it. Don’t stare. Don’t—
Her gaze locked with its eyes. Her mind didn’t so much break as it fractured. Fragments of her awareness slipped away, fleeting images, sounds, and thoughts spiraling like petals in a storm. Her breathing grew shallow, the pounding in her ears the only sensation she could feel. Although, it was…comforting? As if something was countering the earlier sinister tendrils that had snaked their way into their minds.
Petals.
Petals?!
[Legend’s Temperament: Failed]
Her heart jumped as she realized—flower petals were swirling around them. They spun like leaves caught in an autumn breeze, slow, deliberate, and so utterly out of place that her mind struggled to comprehend it. Her hand shot to her revolver, her fingers fumbling over the holster, unable to grip it. No, her body refused to grip it.
Move. MOVE!
Her eyes darted back to the hare-like abomination. It hadn’t moved. Not a muscle. But she swore it had shifted closer.
Her breath turned shallow. Her heart raced.
Then the world slowed—everything slowed.
Or…had it always been slowed?
The dust hung in the air, swirling in surreal, weightless spirals. Every stone. Every fleck of dirt hung in stillness. Grace’s breathing became the only sound, her chest rising and falling like thunderclaps in the silent void as the others seemed to be trapped in the same locked state as her.
A hollow snap echoed.
Her head whipped to the side. The rocky ground bulged, stone cracking like eggshells as something broke through the surface. First, it was a chittering sound—then came the mandibles.
Chitinous, jagged, scarab mandibles the size of her forearm clamped through the stone like it was paper. Her pulse spiked as more chittering echoed below them.
This…has to be Rachel.
Her breath grew shallow as the world slowed even further, her senses razor-sharp yet helpless. A rumbling vibrated the air and she knew it was powerful—beyond powerful. Yet, in the flowery aura of this hare, everything felt insignificant and dulled to feel like barely a whisper.
“…Boss?”
Rachel’s voice flowed into the still air, distant, like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn’t her voice—not fully. It was needles threading through her spine, a voice so cold it made her blood feel thick and sluggish. Her overly wide jaw rising further into a hideous grin.
“Welcome to the hunt, Milky. I’m in need of your assistance.”
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