61 | sacrifice; to protect and to learn

The man's warning echoed in the chaotic room, disrupted with unrest and fear scattered across the dozens of large, rapidly blinking eyes.

Lucas curled his fingers to his fist painfully, before reaching out to grab his fork, ignoring the quiet tapping from underneath the table and the warmth that glided against his ankles.

He chewed, disregarding manners and he chewed loudly, obtusely in a way that made all frightened stares turn to him. With the proper air and training of a delinquent, he glared at them all.

"What? Keep on eating. Do you think you'll get any more food later? Can you sleep on an empty stomach—whose words are more important right now, yours or mine?"

His words were harsh and rude, but eased the turbulent hearts of the children who flinched, and nodded quickly, a few with tears welling up in the corner of their eyes. They stabbed into the food as if commanded, unable to resist.

Loud and crude chewing surrounded the table, mingled with the occasional sobs and sniffles.

Occasionally, a child would flinch as something rotted and bony touched their feet. Food would spill from their bulging cheeks, and they would shiver and scramble to continue eating.

But pretending that something didn't exist, didn't mean it wasn't there.

Lucas felt restless, seated at the dining table where all he could do was shovel food into his mouth, distract the children from everything else.

From the wide and obscure smile of the Teller who watched them as if they were ants dancing into a fire pit, from the candles that flickered teasingly with sparks of green.

From whatever existed underneath the table.

These sorts of Stories were his weakness—where he couldn't fight nor persistently run around and struggle.

How much longer until the banquet finished?

Lucas raised his eyes questioningly to Wren, who licked her lips nervously and shook her head to tell him that she didn't know either. What the woman did know, was that she wanted it to end as much as any other.

On her side, she noticed the picky girl poking at the vegetables, having no stomach to eat anything anymore.

But without a doubt, the child's stomach would rumble and groan into the night, resulting in her doom. Therefore, Wren allowed a cheeky grin to play on her lips as she leaned her head on her palm.

"C'mon, doesn't it taste good? Try to eat a little more, yeah?"

The girl flinched at the sudden words, turning her head awkwardly. "...yes...! Yes, I'll keep eating! I'm sorry..."

"No, no, I wasn't trying to scare you into eating—"

A low voice remarked from the opposite side. "How awful."

Wren shot a glare at Lucas, clearly helping the children from the goodness of her lacking heart, and he had the nerve to call her terrible? However, her glare went ignored by the obstinate man.

Lucas continued to chew obscenely loudly.

Berry peeked over, successfully hypnotizing himself into believing nothing was happening, and that the brush against his legs were just another pair of legs accidentally kicking him.

Sometimes, the simple minded lived the longest.

He watched the exchange between the two adults, and proudly scooped a large portion of food into his mouth, smacking his lips to mimic Lucas' solemn chewing.

The sound of two people chewing filled the room.

The picky little girl blinked, then let out a quiet puff of laughter.

Mira giggled at Berry's proper and serious expression while chewing with his mouth open, and Will smiled faintly at the silly child. He almost wished he could be like that, free and unbriddled with worries, blocking out the terrors or reality.

With the events, the atmosphere eased slightly and the bubbling nausea recoiled. Tension escaped Lucas' posture as he closed his eyes gently, taking a slow breath.

If he had to act foolish, he would act foolish.

If he had to step in the midst of danger, then he would do so. There was nothing he wouldn't dare to do or sacrifice, so—

'—so please let these children survive to the end.'

Maleficent's smile remained plastered on like a warning, cruel laughter behind the eerie mask of politeness. Wren didn't ease up for a moment, even as she stuck her tongue out childishly at Lucas in response to his words.

Her nose wrinkled—senses far beyond a normal human. It was a clear and distinct stench that was temporarily smothered by the roasted meats and vegetables.

She knew it well.

Counting the seconds impatiently in her head, she urgently wanted to stand up and pry the Teller out of the room with her own hands, forcing the banquet to a close. Scream, shout and go crazy! But this wasn't her territory that she could manipulate and twist.

An invisible clock ticked above them, high above the dim and gloomy room that had been disguised by man-made amusement.

Then, the dreamy yet scraping voice echoed around them.

Lucas was the one to answer, irritation bleeding through his sharp gaze. "I have little patience for your games."

His teeth ground together, anger coursing through his blood. But his voice remained impassive, and his expression a mask of calm. "Your games will likely kill us more easily than the Stories' rules."

Teasing, was the voice, a magnetic and promising allure that wrapped around his mind, soaking it in sweet honey.

It made him sick to the stomach.

He wanted to resist, to deny the problematic requests that only called for trouble. But as the one to decide the fate of all the lives peering at him with a gaze full of trust, he couldn't be reckless.

What if the Teller's deal proved to save more lives, than the ones stolen at the night? What if he could protect the children in that way? Too many what ifs, too much left undetermined and unpredicible.

He was used to living on his own, unbothered by whatever wounds gathered across his pale skin from fights and reckless behaviour. This was different.

How would it feel if his single choice changed the course of over a dozen innocent lives?

"I'll listen to it. But I can't promise to accept it."

Maleficent stared at him with stark joy, obscure and inelegant on her warped, beautiful features that was a mixture between realism and fiction.

As beautiful as a painting. As terrifying as death.

"Enough. Spit it out—your deal."

Tag. Lucas tried not to consider the manipulated children who would likely be the chasers. He couldn't protect the dead—he had to focus on the living.

If it was a game like that, he could at least have some control. Different to the dead night, where waking would kill him in strange and unpredictable ways, but sleeping would steal away the young lives as he remained quiet.

But what were the abilities and skills of the puppets the Teller made?

Was it similar to Elias' skill of manipulation, though that bastard's skill was less crude and terrible. Did it have the same backlash, to give a moment of weakness?

But eventually, he decided it would be different. Because that weakness made Elias human, much as he denied it. And this Teller seemed to forsaken all traces of humanity in her twisted games.

He pursed his lips, deep in a swamp of thoughts. "How many chasers will you send?"

An absurd thing was to trust the Teller without hesitation, but even that creature was bound by rules made by the apocalypse and Stories.

The Teller watched the slight changes marking across the handsome but calm face, wide with brilliant satisfaction. That was it! How those beautiful faces warped, with the weight of all the lives on their mind.

She despised those beautiful men, those seeming heroes that ultimately could do nothing more than cheat and steal.

There wasn't a thing she needed to do anymore, no hidden tricks woven between her sly words. He couldn't decline the option to save 5, but then he would have to pick his favourites and earn the hatred of the remaining children.

Plus, if the other children died, then there would be the question of 'what if'? What if he had picked to save that child, dead on the ground with no rest for their soul?

Could he bear it? Could he accept it without losing his mind?

Most couldn't, full of self-loathing and blame as all those trustworthy little eyes turned into pure hatred and disappointment.

How she waited for that moment.

But it wasn't Lucas who responded, but instead a deathly harsh whisper that came from the end of the table. The teenager moved, peering from his gloomy eyes.

"Agree to the deal." Without any faltering, he strained his voice to speak. "I... do not think many... of us will sleep well... tonight."

With the horrors already experienced, and the loss of several friends that coupled with the strangeness underneath the tablecloth, it would be too easy to wake up from paranoia or an upset stomach after being too uneasy to eat.

"I will... take responsibility for that choice."

Lucas remained silent, as if to observe the teenager's expression for a second. Then, he nodded slowly. "We'll agree to your terms."

While the Teller couldn't understand the thoughts flickering in the pair's head, she nodded eagerly.

However, instead of the adult struggling to make the painstaking decision of claiming who deserved to live, and who didn't, he leaned back in his chair lazily without a hint of bother.

"You heard her, only 5 of you can definitely live. Who is willing to stay behind for the sake of their friends?"

He wouldn't be the one to make the final choice.

Ultimately, perhaps it was cruel to make the children decide, for them to hold onto that weight. But they knew that this was no joke, and would likely not blame each other regardless of the outcome.

Adults gave children less credit than they deserved. Those small minds, undeveloped but listening, absorbed their surroundings with frightening haste.

Lucas would hold onto his promise of helping them leave alive—but he would not ruin his mentality before that.

Will understood the man's words and hoarsely spoke, "I will remain behind."

Rome followed soon after, a firm nod of his head. "Me too."

Wren scoffed, crossing her legs. "Naturally, I will be as well."

Several others looked at each other nervously, and a few brave, trembling hands raised in the air. To protect their friends, because they didn't want to be safe alone, or whatever reasons they procured.

Lottie, the young and cheerful girl, glanced at her friend who had been picking at vegetables the previous night and this, barely eating after witnessing all the horrible sights. She lowered her small head, thinking.

Then, softly, she wondered,

"Dying means we won't see each other again, right, mister?"

Lucas raised his gaze firmly. "Yes."

An easy smile spread over the young face, as she laughed and said brightly, "Then, can Mira be granted safety? I definitely must see her again!"

Mira choked. "Lottie... but if you—"

"Nope, don't worry! I'm strong, Mira! You haven't been eating recently, so you shouldn't run around too much, right? Mother used to always say that I was strong and fast, so it'll be all okay~!"

Lucas had nothing against that, also aware that Mira had a likelier chance to fall behind when running compared to the rest, due to her regular frail stature and her poor appetite.

Regardless, the children determining life and death would be left at their own devices. Lucas could, and would only watch silently from the side.

Madness would plague them all, young or old.

And the longer humans spent time in the Stories, a part of them was stripped away into something sinister. At least in this way, they could choose to sacrifice or be sacrificed, and get a grasp onto that new reality.

The remaining children were divided, uncertain of whether to save their skin or their friends. In the end, the children chosen to go to the rooms were all volunteered by their close friends who insisted.

The Teller watched with great boredom, her smile becoming more strained.

When the disgusting act of comradeship was finally over, she waved her hands at all the utensils on the long table floated and danced in the air.

Scorched by the burning candles, they flipped and slammed into the entrance doors, slamming them apart to beckon into the empty hallways. Soon to be littered by blood, tears and corpses.

She clapped her bony hands twice, and the candles in the hallway spun into a deep, dangerous green.

Without forgetting the rules, she stood up from the table first, spreading her arms wide, shadows spanning behind her as if forming an illusion of gigantic and obscure wings.

Lucas unconsciously looked down at the stained carpet, settled at his feet while the sudden parting of the door created a light gust, messing the tablecloth. His eyes contracted, meeting a familiar and devastated corpse.

A mangled hand reached out and clung to his foot pleadingly.

———xxx———

Lucas' sleeping body remained still, without any signs of movement. Elias stared out the window, alone in this hospital with bodies that may never wake.

The others had already left in a rush, in case their enemy ran away before they could make chase. With Kane, the wonderful and brilliant doctor as a leader, Elias had no doubt they would find some success.

Not without loss, of course.

Had he said such things aloud, would that foolish sponge deemed him too cynical or negative, while being entirely aware of the dangers and the truth of his words?

"Wake up soon, Lucas." muttered Elias, turning around at his heel as he traced the back of his fingers against the cold cheek—frighteningly cold. "Wake up and scold me, with your ridiculous thoughts of happiness. I wouldn't mind listening."

The longer the man slept, the less certain Elias was that he would wake up.

He walked over to a table, picking up the slip of paper—that ticket or item that connected him to Lucas. Technically, Nora's prize, though she wasn't surprised she gave or lent it to that man.

There were no traces that any conversation had taken place, but he'd remembered the chill of seeing messy blood scrawled on that paper.

It was becoming painfully evident now that he wouldn't accept nor tolerate Lucas' death anymore. While watching that man miserably forget who he most wanted to remember, and recklessly act had attracted Elias to begin with, it was different.

No, Lucas couldn't die. Not if Elias had anything to do with it.

There were still so many faces of that man to witness, too much nonsense he still had to listen and disagree with.

"After dragging me along with your whims, don't you dare abandon me, darling."

He turned, striding out of the room with regular yet steady steps, languidly walking down the stairs as he rolled up his sleeves a fold or two.

Although he'd agreed to Nora's proposal, there had been no contract binding him to that vow. If it came down to it, abandoning all others would be something he would never hesitate to do.

Protect what you need—the living weren't strong enough to try and protect everything. Even Lucas understood that fact.

Well, being the type of person that he was, Lucas would likely rush out and risk his life for others, despite understanding his limitations. Only to be silently disappointed later, burning with hatred and frustration that could only simmer in his depths.

Elias wondered if he'd feel something, the kindness of being human, perhaps, if he followed Lucas' actions.

If he protected this hospital, would he come closer to understanding that man?

A chain was wrapped around his forearm, having found a thick coil in one of the closets. Not the best weapon, Elias supposed, but a weapon nevertheless. He pocketed a few scalpel, but there weren't any exciting weapons to choose from.

He stopped at the end of the staircase, before taking a turn around the corner and peering coldly through the glass, cerulean eyes deep and watching.

Coolly, he waited, allowing his eyes to rest for a moment in silence.

How many would there be? Nothing too much for him—if one didn't treat their opinions as equals, it wasn't difficult to succeed.

At what point had he stopped valuing human life?

At what point had death become numb and senseless?

The leaves crackled outside as light steps pressed against them, the soft rustling of the grass a tinge unnatural due to movement, and the singing birds that long flew away to perch and remain bystanders in the trees.

Instead of just killing, would the priority of protecting change something? He wondered and wondered, leaning against the frame casually, but couldn't figure it out.

Then, his eyes slowly opened and a smile curled on his lips.

If he couldn't figure it out, then all he needed to do was to test it.