26 | greed; to survive or to sacrifice

Wren's story wasn't particularly long or unique.

She'd fallen in love in a simple way, after dating for several years and establishing a relationship built of loyalty and common-sense—at least, she'd assumed at the time.

The Spade King, named August, hadn't been extremely attracted, or other-worldly talented. Nor was she.

She enjoyed the habit of peace that she developed with him, their casualness and comfortability. But despite there being no grand scheme in their tale of romance, she'd loved him like anyone would their partner, and trusted him deeply.

After all, when years of habit had been built, it was natural to assume that it wouldn't easily be broken.

"It's not very interesting, actually. I kinda wish it was more dramatic, so I could at least say it in a cool way." complained the woman with a regretful sigh.

The first Story of the apocalypse.

She and August had entered a survival Story, on an island with little to eat, little to do. Everything had been black and white, like a newspaper.

Only the two of them existed, and one other person.

The Spade King.

The original Spade King had been a middle aged man, intelligent and inquisitive as he searched for a way for all of them to escape. August, in fact, had been a regular victim of the apocalypse, just like her.

Powerless. Helpless. Confused.

The first thing that they all heard was a voice that encased them, a warning, perhaps. If they'd remembered.

"I honestly thought we'd make it out. All of us. That it was all some messed up dream, like the kind you have as a kid."

Time had continued to past, and she lost track of how long she'd been trapped on that island. They were surviving, but that was it. Inside they were dying. The voice hadn't spoken up again, and they were at a loss.

"August started to become desperate for a way to escape. The Spade King kept searching, looking. He never gave up hope."

Then, one day, a tree bloomed from the dry grounds, at a speed so impossible and unlikely, they'd thought they had already gone mad. Branches of pure silver leaves, swaying in the empty air.

A fruit fell from the branches, a singular red apple that rolled onto the ground.

It was like a sin, a temptation in the nestle of white, in the strange world without colour.

"We didn't care about it, until we heard that voice echoing. This annoying, punchable and shrill tone that echoed in the air."

Wren laughed lightly, although it was wrapped in a mocking bite. "I wasn't going to take it. I thought we'd discuss or something first. Decide together what to do. Hadn't we formed a bond after being stuck in that hellish place?"

The Spade King had shared the same sentiments as her. But her lover didn't.

She'd seen it—known when greed flashed in his eyes, warping the face she knew so well into an ugly mess of desperation. She'd realized in an instant that he was going to abandon her.

And in that same moment, she decided to abandon him first.

"I lunged for it."

But she didn't eat it. She didn't want to, not if it meant sacrificing the others.

No, she held it to her chest as he towered over her, raining down beatings and insults. He'd called her the worse sort of names, then he pleaded and begged.

Told her if she loved him, she would give it to him.

That she should put him first.

Because ultimately, her life meant nothing without him in it.

Of course, Wren didn't listen. Of course, she didn't believe in that nonsense—even craziness didn't strip the woman of her pride and self-worth. No matter how degrading his words became.

The Spade King tried to help, but was pushed away several times. In the end, all he did was watch in horror—unwilling to risk his own life for a stranger.

"I ended up eating on it. Well, more like choking on it."

After August slammed her head into the ground, the apple had slipped and crushed her teeth, blood pooling into her mouth. But once the sweetness erupted into her palette, she felt like an addict.

She chewed through the pain, the tears, until there was nothing left. Nothing but her lover's resentment.

And then she'd laughed, loudly as blood and bruises blossomed over her skin in a hideous rash, and she laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

"Oh, he went crazy. A damn sight to see, I really wish I had a camera or something."

Elias nodded in agreement. "That's why it's a good habit to always carry a camera with you. To capture amusing things."

Lucas snapped his head over, scowling as he remembered a certain person that took a certain picture. "Hey, delete that picture."

"What picture?"

"You know which."

Elias faked innocence. "I only took an interesting picture to place on somebody's grave. I took the picture of a dead man. Are you saying you're dead?"

"Stop playing with words."

"Don't worry," smiled Wren, playing along. "I made sure your body looked especially cool, covered in blood and all that."

"...enough. Continue."

"Yeah, yeah. Do you know the story of Adam and Eve? I'm not religious, but it's a well known tale depicting the fall of men, and the original sin."

"I know it."

"Turns out, the Story was based off that. I'm not saying it was exactly like that, but it was meant to reveal human's sins. I ate the apple. I became the sinner. The rules were to be greedy, right? August and I completed the story--we escaped."

Elias stared at her. "The second voice represented the snake that lured Eve into eating the apple? According to the myth, didn't both Adam and Eve eat the apple?"

Lucas frowned too, listening carefully. "Why were there three people?"

"I said it's not completely like the original Myth. Stories twist myth and legend, tales and stories. They warp it into finding a way to kill humans, right?"

"Right."

"The aim of this Story was to make us all commit a sin. Because the apple wasn't the only temptation—"

"The Spade King." finished Lucas. "August found out about the Spade King's powers."

"Ding, ding, ding, congratulations! You win nothing. Now, I'll continue."

August had realized that she swallowed the apple, and collapsed in despair. Then, we went completely mad, as if taken over and controlled by his very emotions.

He tried to tear her apart, slice her stomach open—find some way to reach the apple, find some way to survive, even if it meant killing her.

Wren remembered the pain clearly. The pain of his nails digging into her flesh, pressing into her back as he yanked at her hair, trying to force her to choke it back out.

The way his fleshy fingers pressed against her throat, how she'd sucked in a breath, felt the burn in her chest as air escaped her lungs and—

—and then the Spade King had tried to save her once again.

He had the power to protect people, and a hazy flash had sent August flying away as a static shield built around Wren. All Kings developed an ability that was best suited for them, and that man's had been to protect.

He saved her.

But, only just finding out his ability, he couldn't control it and was mercilessly killed by August.

August, who thought, that light was something magical or holy. August, who believed, that after failing to kill Wren, that somehow, killing the Spade King would be his ticket to salvation.

Wren had watched the scene of carnage from her own blurry vision, from the blood-stained eyes and the warmth pooling over her body from numerous wounds.

She'd watched as August tore the Spade King apart, using branches to stab and tear into the flesh—as that loyal elder man struggled, but tried to reason with him.

The permanent stench of flesh, the bloody gape of shredded skin. Wren would never forget that sight. They'd won, her lover and she, but at what cost?

A sinner, Wren, was punished a fate crueler than death, trapped in an immortal body and forced to participate in the game.

The old King, the one who deserved to survive the game, fell into the abyss.

And August, the criminal and the new King, lived freely without ever once regretting his actions back in that Story.

As for how she knew that he never, not for a moment, thought back to that fateful day?

Wren lowered her gaze. "I've seen him do much more than simply murder in that Story. He's done more than just betray. Becoming whatever this is, a Teller of some sorts, has made me see things I never wanted to see."

She looked straight at Lucas, almost regretfully.

"I've met people destined to fail, over and over again."

However, in the pitch of the room and the lack of light from outside, he couldn't make out her expression properly, shadowed away in the darkest corner of his room.

"Regardless, I have a chance for revenge so all's good and well. Happy days, happy life. We move on, y'know?"

Wren clapped her hands, yawning. She didn't really want to wait around to see their reactions—pity, sympathy and the usual expressions that she didn't like.

Glancing around, she leaned back into the window and waved half-heartedly.

"Story-time over. This girl needs her beauty sleep, see you."

In a blink, she disappeared, back into the depths of Lucas' conscious. Elias' gaze lingered at the spot she'd been standing, before he walked over to Lucas' bed to sit down beside the man.

Lucas, who'd planned to lie back down after Wren finished talking, stared deeply at the dip in the mattress where a bothersome presence had settled.

"What do you think of that story?" asked Elias, stretching his limbs out purposely to take up more space.

"It's an admirable story."

"How so?"

"That she can still think of revenge after suffering to that extent. That she hasn't given up hope." Lucas leaned to the side, tugging over his blanket so that his head was resting on the mattress, body sprawled on the floor.

Elias pulled a leg up to his chest, leaning on one knee as he closed his eyes languidly. "Do you pity her?"

"I don't feel the need to."

"Why not?"

"I said," repeated Lucas, slightly grumpy as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I admire her. She isn't stuck in the past—she's accepted her fate. I don't need to pity somebody whose moved on."

Elias reached out to grab one of the stray books on the floor, flipping to the first page. He stretched into his pocket and pulls out a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

Lucas can't fathom how the man can read in the dark, but doesn't question it.

"How far will you go, darling? Will you kill to reach your goal? For the sake of survival, for the sake of protecting? And if you do, does that make you the same sort of person as the one Wren wishes to kill?"

Elias skimmed through the page, his questions posed with genuine curiosity. Although there was the hidden agenda of interrupting Lucas' sleep, he wondered what decision such a person would make.

Wild and free, yet not cruel. A person who could read emotions well, despite their stony exterior and seemingly disinterested air.

Lucas grumbled under his breath. "If killing makes me terrible, then I'll be terrible. We're all trying to accomplish our goals, here."

"Well, I suppose. Humans murdering humans. It's nothing new." remarked Elias, the crisp flip of a page loud in their silence. "Don't you think?"

The man doesn't look up, his gaze locking on the many words that reflected off his reading glasses, but Lucas swallowed, his contemplation watching Elias' every move.

Elias glanced up, scratching something in elegant swipes of his slender fingers, his thoughts echoing on the pages. He said nothing, and only kept reading.

"Is it a sin to foolishly survive, selfishly with disregard to other life?" said Elias suddenly, spreading the book open with two fingers. Lucas listened. "If there were no laws against murder, could it still exist as a concept? Do we deem one unworthy of life for their crimes, when there exists not a soul that hasn't sinned?"

The book snapped shut with a thud, and Elias' steady gaze fixated on Lucas. Unmoving. "Why do you want to save are you so determined on saving the world, Lucas?"

The man shook his head. "I don't."

"And yet, here we are."

Lucas shook his head again stubbornly. "I don't want to save everyone. There is only one person I want to save."

Elias smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"But I won't heedlessly kill. I'm not seeking destruction, either."

"I am, however." The cerulean-eyed man glanced over lightly. "Weren't you going to make me a villain?"

"I can do so without becoming as cynical as you."

Elias laughed at that, a deep rumble that was somewhat intrigued. In a way, Lucas was a contradictory character, a person with a certain amount of faith in humanity regardless of his violent antiques or habits.

Although there was the supposed goal of saving the brother he'd forgotten, Elias had no doubt that the man would end up saving something so much greater.

And when he did, he'd fall so much faster.

Elias would watch everything unfold to the very end. He looked over at the soft rising chest of the other. Lucas had fallen asleep during Elias' thought process, dead to the world.

He was curled up tightly, as if cold. Thinking about it, the room had a slight chill to it, though nothing extreme. Elias preferred the cold, anyway.

A lock of raven hair fell as the man shuffled in his sleep, poking at his eyes. Lucas moved some more in discomfort, a frown spreading across his lips.

Elias reached out slowly, as if the itchiness of the hair somehow affected him too, and pushed it to the side. A coolness brushed against his fingers, the soothing chill of Lucas' skin.

"Ugh..." grumbled Lucas in a muffled whisper, startling the other man. "Go... sleep... bastard..."

A short laugh escaped Elias, amused at the man's antiques even in his slumber. His eyes curved before he fell back into the wall, making himself comfortable.

It was strange, actually.

For somebody to by lying by his side like that. Elias had been alone for so long, sleeping beside somebody, talking about stupid ideas and morals, weren't something he remembered doing.

He reached out to grab another book absentmindedly, most containing a grand fantasy or thrilling mystery. All fiction, most likely. That lazy sponge seemed to prefer made-up fantasies rather than terrible realities.

Lucas moved in his sleep once again, and a thin wrist slipped out from under the blanket.

Not that the man was weak, or petite in any way, noted Elias as he flipped to the back of the book to see the ending.

But that was Lucas, the sort of person who ran around and got into a ridiculous number of fights, but couldn't seem to remember to eat unless food was placed before him.

"Ah, a happy ending." muttered Elias, before discarding the book back into the messy piles on the ground.

He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

"I'm starting to get a little used to you, darling."

To think that he'd start noticing the smaller habits of this man. It couldn't be helped, really, considering the unfortunate number of times they'd kept encountering each other.

Elias took note of that.

Getting too used to Lucas' presence would be terrible, when the path that man sought one was no happy ending.

And to begin with, he was confident that the world would eventually enter ruins. That was his faith, his belief and understanding.

Because, after all, Elias had already witnessed such ruin once before.