The st thing Momo remembered was that…thing—Tobris—gripping her neck like she was a sack of meat. Then, her sight went hazy. She tried to speak, but the words were stubbornly clinging to her throat like a wad of sticky gum. Something tense snapped in her neck, and she found herself in this...pce.

  It was a maze of darkness with wide corridors that sometimes narrowed to the point where she couldn’t breathe if she didn’t want to get stuck. The gss floor revealed the gaping darkness below. The torches lining the bloodstained walls weren't made from wood.

  No—they were shaped like fangs—fangs belonging to a group Momo would never forget. The fmes pyed recorded moving pictures of a past she had already accepted.

  She didn’t know how long she had been running.

  Hours?

  Days?

  Weeks? Everything looked the same. The only difference was the size of the corridors, but she discovered that wasn’t trustworthy when she saw a hallway grow before her very eyes. When she doubled back, she saw the pathway had shrunk to where she needed to crawl.

  So, she couldn’t trust the size to mark where she had been, so that left her mirror. She silently apologized before using its infinite corpses to indicate where she had been and which hallways she hadn’t entered.

  Except that didn’t work because her mirrors dissolved into the floor. It wasn’t her mirror’s fault. It was this pce. This horrible, rotten hellhole seemed to only exist to drive her mad in loneliness—to make her spiral into a depressive madness.

  It didn’t help that this pce reshuffled itself whenever it felt like. Momo would often find herself knocked unconscious only to wake up in a different location. Everything she did to keep a steady mental map went out the window like a fming brick.

  “This won’t stop me!” decred Momo for what felt like the 900th time. “This won’t break me! I still feel Servy and Itarr! This ring?” She proudly raised her hand to the nearest torch. She growled angrily at the vampires sughtering her childhood vilge, then she ripped the torch off the wall. “I’m still connected to her! You can try, but I won’t let it happen! I’m not the same Momo! I’m… I’m a vixarian!!!” Momo decred, speaking that oddly sounding name for the first time. Just uttering it instilled her with courage.

  That lookalike… Momo didn’t know if she was truly gone, but the feelings…the love…the absolute care she had shown Momo from when she was little to when she needed her the most…

  A portion of the vixarian’s power still dwelled within her heart. Maybe it was inert. But it was there. It was a feeling that wouldn’t be shattered or taken away.

  Momo never lost her determination. She stubbornly approached the maze a thousand ways, was reset twice as many times, and charged ahead just as many. She would never stop pushing or advancing because she wasn’t alone.

  Yes, she wanted to break free with her own power, but she couldn’t do everything alone. No one could. Anyone who cimed otherwise? Momo would call them a big ol' liar to their face before offering to be a friend in need.

  Whatever kept her here—if it was that rotten Tobris—felt the need to challenge Momo. They wished to test her immortal resolve, of which there was just one to do that.

  Her first death happened when she slipped on a patch of ice. The maze turned frigid—like the deepest wretches of winter. In seconds, her blood froze solid. Her muscles were next to follow as her skin was encapsuted in a yer of frost. It entrapped her like a paralyzed prisoner.

  She couldn’t move. The coldness stopped her heart, but immortality flowed through her. The pain? It would hurt—it always would—but it wouldn’t kill her.

  At least, not this time.

  Momo still had sight, although it wasn’t much. She saw a flickering being phase into existence. Its body was humanoid, but the skin was shadow. It reflected the moving pictures hidden within the lined torches as that shadow partially dissolved, revealing a bloodthirsty vampire. Terrible blood oozed from its gaping jaw. The darkness crafted a giant spear with a curved tip.

  It cut through Momo, bisecting her in half.

  “AAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” She found herself screaming herself awake as she desperately touched her stomach. “The… It’s not there… It’s not there…” Momo shivered. She still felt the pain. And the death…

  “That’s… I died...” Her voice quivered. Just…the thought of dying and defiling death… Did this count? Momo knew this wasn’t reality. She was trapped inside her mind. However, nothing changed the fact that she had, indeed, died. If she continued?

  She’d die again, wouldn’t she?

  Could she handle it? Being bisected while frozen was one thing.

  Torture?

  Decapitated?

  Fyed alive?

  All at once, a dozen horrible futures fshed into her mind. She shook her head to rid herself of the gory thoughts. Momo had thought she wouldn't fear death. Her precious Servy didn’t—she had died hundreds or thousands of times. But the reality sank into her mind. Momo acknowledged what she thought she had accepted...

  "No! I don’t think that way! I’m not living for me anymore!” She stood with renewed vigor and bravely faced the only hallway she saw. The gaping darkness beckoned her to approach. “It’s for you… The vixarian. You gave me this life. You… I owe you a lot. So... I won’t return to that Momo. I can’t! My strength isn’t just my own!”

  The maze shook. The gss floor began cracking, but it never broke. Was it ughing?

  …

  Momo charged ahead. She didn’t have her sword or bag, but her mirror was there. It hovered like a sentry, reflecting the torches. Luckily, the moving pictures didn’t have sound.

  She advanced to the first intersection and felt an odd presence.

  It was that vampire. Momo reacted a hair too soon. Her head was split like a coconut, granting her another death…

  Another scream escaped Momo’s mouth as she rubbed her face to calm down when consciousness returned.

  “I…was just here. Is this my new starting location?” Her voice was, again, very unsteady. A natural reaction to dying for the second time. Momo didn’t know if she would get used to it. Could someone normalize this odd, unbecoming feeling?

  She had to. This immortality… Momo never wanted to think of it as a curse. Not now, not never. The vixarian inside her was inexplicably linked to the goddess she cherished.

  Tobris can’t be trusted. I dunno if he told the truth about anything. But I can’t give up… I’ll make it out of here… I will…

  *****

  *****

  In the incalcuble time that had passed since Momo’s first and test death, she had died over 300 times. Some gruesome—some not so gory. But all were painful. She had been carved, melted, dissolved, burned, shocked, and impaled. That vampire was her stalker. It crept into the shadows, taunting her with vile insults about her vilge. Momo could sometimes see it from the corner of her eyes, but she usually only became aware of that monster when it stood over her dying corpse.

  She hated it.

  She despised that awful thing more than she feared it. Fright? Just where was that emotion? Things often became less scary the more you encountered them. Living amongst spiders would cause one’s arachnophobia to simmer like an ice cube in the sweltering sun.

  Momo didn’t find those fangs all that scary. Not anymore—she still hated the vampire. Thing…monster had caused most of her deaths, but she never gave up—even if hitting it didn’t work. She always made it a little farther each time. The maze had stopped shifting, so a mental map of the area began forming in her head.

  At this point, Momo knew where most of the traps were. It was less like a battle for survival and more like a sick game of attrition that rewarded failure with death—one Momo could win.

  She was getting better at it. She flew down the corridors she had traversed many times before and expertly dodged the traps. She knew that vampire would be around the corner, so she had her mirror in the right spot to deflect the spear thrust. The object died, but she made another while sprinting ahead. She fired a barrage of acidic arrows, although she knew her attacks wouldn’t hurt it.

  The shadowy vampire monster was invulnerable to her attempts, yet she was weak to its strikes.

  From there, she would have to take a left to jump over the invisible pit. From behind always came a hailstorm of arrows. Momo nded on her back, slid under the projectiles, grabbed her mirror, and flung herself over the chest-wide invisible wall that still bore blood from where she had run heartfirst into it.

  That was another thing. Momo's blood would sometimes be there. Her corpses? Even scarcer.

  Momo eventually made it to where she had perished the st time. It was a thin net. Momo foolishly believed it was made of string or yarn like the other nets she had jumped through, but this was made from razor-sharp wire no thicker than an ant. The room was giant—more than any other. The obstacles were challenging to see, too, so Momo slowly progressed by using her mirror to snuff out the correct path.

  Momo's heart erupted with euphoria when she crossed that threshold, but…

  It was a dead end. This path led nowhere. There were so many torches pced without care that it seemed like the maze’s designer had a fit of madness. The increasing fmes continued to reflect that hated moment. But they kept growing until this dead end was covered in fire. It didn’t stop. No—the inferno spread throughout the entire maze until it was all one giant confgration.

  Then the sound came. Momo couldn’t hide from the screams or cries. Or from the sickening noose of sword meeting baby flesh. Or fangs sinking deeper into frightened throats. Or the gross suckling of blood as once-healthy skin turned leathery and brittle.

  It was all so visceral and realistic—like she was there—running through the corpse-filled streets.

  The ground below her weakened. Momo closed her eyes, covered her ears, and screamed as she fell into the abyss below.

  The fall wasn't endless. No—the void was physical—at least it was this time. She nded on her shoulder, cracking it, but it was fixed when she stood. At first, she saw nothing. Momo looked up to perceive the maze from below. Her first thought was how monstrously gigantic it was. It must’ve spread for a few miles. Its height? Forty floors? Maybe more? You couldn't tell from this angle. The fmes continued to burn it away like a fire in the dark.

  Embers rained upon the ‘ground.’ But…

  The fming specs of the past didn’t die. Nor were they extinguished.

  No…

  They transformed into vampires—copies of the monster hunting Momo. Not just one or ten.

  Or twenty.

  Or fifty…

  It was hundreds.

  Momo was entrapped in the middle of a gang of bloodthirsty monsters. The shadowy form obscuring them had vanished, and Momo stared them down. Each wielded a different weapon. The flickering fmes from above reflected off the cold steel…

  Momo drew her sword. She held it steady. “Come to me, mirror… This is a fight…we won’t lose… I… I won’t let this memory hold me back! I accept it! I can’t deny what happened!” shouted the vixarian. She gritted her teeth and charged forward, parrying a quick thrust with a masterful vertical slice. She cut through an arm with her grandfather’s beautiful longsword and jumped away, commanding her mirror to unleash a barrage of acidic arrows.

  Momo sensed danger from behind. She ducked, avoiding a horizontal sweet from a battle-axe. She tripped the attacker, then jumped away to dodge an arrow.

  But she nded near a vampire. The monster grabbed her by the neck, but her mirror rammed itself into its head, shattering the foe’s skull. Momo dislodged herself before distancing herself.

  Only a few y dead.

  She had many more to go.

  Momo wouldn’t stop. Why would she? Her precious Servy wouldn’t. Momo knew her best friends were working to wake her up.

  So, she fought. Momo approached the challenge to face the horde with the bravery her grandfather harbored when he valiantly marched to his death to save his beloved granddaughter.

  *****

  *****

  The battle raged.

  The bodies were proof of how intense the brawl had become. But it served another purpose.

  Training.

  Slowly but surely, Momo was growing. Her mirror’s usage evolved, although the clingy object never changed form. It now survived ten or eleven direct hits before shattering. Momo was more agile, too, after getting used to her new body. She danced with frightening speed—that pink vixarian tail elegantly followed behind—as she cut down four or five. She had engaged in non-stop combat for weeks.

  Or was it months?

  It couldn’t have been years, could it? Time here…inside her mind…wasn’t the same as the outside.

  But the vixarian never lost hope or faith. All she could do was fight, so that was what she did.

  Eventually, there were fifty.

  Then twenty-five.

  Twelve more fell, leaving thirteen. The remaining vampires soon lost another dozen.

  Momo…

  She was finally face-to-face with the st one.

  She felt great… The trauma? It was there—but Momo had accepted it. She loosened her stance and approached the monster. She wasn’t smiling, but that ferocious scowl wasn’t there. No—she didn’t know what expression she made.

  The vampire snarled. It tried to run Momo through with its curved spear, but she deftly side-stepped the pathetic attack. It replied with a roar as shadowy tendrils formed from its outstretched arm, but Momo flicked her sword, severing the vampire’s shoulder before it unched the attack.

  “I know your movements. I know your attacks. Isn't this ironic? If Tobris did this, then he made a mistake. I’m not cowering in fear. I’m not that same little girl. No, I wasn’t little when it happened. I was an adult, but I didn’t feel like one. I still don’t feel like one. Growing up is scary. The sense of the unknown can be too much for people to handle. That’s why they drift from pce to pce and do the minimum to survive. I… actually feel good. Maybe not great. But well-enough. Grampy said something about having to fight your demons, but I know he didn’t mean literally fighting them.” Momo’s soft lips curled into a smile. Those vixarian ears twitched.

  “It’s over. You’re the st. I’ve never forgotten that day. It’s always been with me. It always will. I’d be lying if I said I'd never think about it again. But that’s okay. It’s not a happy memory, but it did happen. Maybe Servy can bring Grampy back. Better yet, maybe she can someday revive the whole vilge. Itarr’s a bonafide goddess, you know. She’s something greater than that—me… This pce…” Momo gestured to the abyss. The maze had long since burned itself away. The only light came from a crimson glow in the far distance—a feeling of warmth that felt nostalgic. “Even you originated from her. So… This is goodbye, my nightmares—my weakness. I won’t say we’ll never meet again. I’m immortal, but I’m not indestructible.”

  Momo recollected her thoughts before continuing. “I’m bound to be scared by something. Probably a dder, if I’m being honest, haha. Tall pces are scary. This vixarian just wasn’t made for heights. But we’ll meet again. When I’m lost and afraid. Or when I’m meek and depressed… That’s fine. I’ll kill you all again. You guys can keep me on my toes, ya know? Like, when I need a pick-me-up? Geez, now I’m sounding like Servy. I’ll end it here… So stand there and die.” Momo flourished her sword and decapitated the vampire, and that lifeless corpse joined the hundreds of others.

  A strange calmness radiated from Momo. She didn’t sit or move. Momo merely pondered while sheathing her sword. Only she knew how long she stood there and contempted what had happened. It felt like she should have grown.

  Momo didn’t know if she did. That faint crimson glow grew brighter as a red door appeared from a ruby-colored pilr of light.

  She pced her hand on the knob.

  “It feels like...” Momo looked up. She doubted Tobris—if he was responsible—was watching. So she didn’t say anything. She proceeded down the hallway, eventually arriving at a room with no exit. It just had a comfy-looking bed that called her name.

  “Oh? They say cats like to sleep a lot—No, Momo. You’re not a singi. You’re a vixarian.” Momo shrugged her shoulders. Her grandfather’s sayings about singi and cats no longer applied to her. “Eh, I’m sure foxes like to curl up for a nap…” Momo slipped into the bed and hugged her precious mirror close to her chest…

  She was out like an extinguished candle.

  Momo’s slumber monopolized her when the room softly trembled. A fracture sprang from the dead-end wall, eventually crafting a door. From it came someone Momo cherished very much.

  The bck-haired, red-eyed girl gently lifted her best friend like a sleeping princess and returned the way she came—because they were more interconnected than ever.

  *****

  *****

  “That’s the power of [Lover’s Blossom]?” The Primordial Goddess watched the st vixarian’s slumber. She rested her head in the p of a girl she loved.

  The two hadn’t said or decred any passionate vows, but did those words need to be uttered?

  “It is.” Verta stood near her mother as they watched the beautiful reunion. “Momo will awaken soon. Look, Mother.” Verta gestured to the surroundings. "The process was incomplete, but now it has properly merged. The proof is the stone bridge linking the isnds.”

  Itarr stared at it.

  “That’s my fault?” Itarr’s tone was accusatory. She looked at the darkened skies and stared at her infinite tower. In time, the sun from Momo’s soul would illuminate their interconnected, spliced souls.

  Verta apologized in a hasty panic. She swore she didn’t mean anything by it and almost regretted speaking. But something compelled her to continue. “You created me to be the Goddess of Family and Love. But… Jealousy is a shadow. Envy is the same. You cannot be a goddess of virtue without imparting sin.” Verta stood near her mother, but Carrie was between them.

  “I…wasn’t the best mother, was I?”

  “No! You were the best!”

  “Don’t lie to me. It’s okay… I can take it. If I were someone better, I wouldn’t have ignored your feelings. That’s what I did, right? I ignored, and ignored, and ignored…until you saw fit to punish me for being inattentive. I gave more preference to the worlds than my kin.”

  Verta couldn’t see. Her eyes were too blurry.

  “Now I’m here. But I don’t wish to be here anymore. Now that I know the truth… I want to regain my power. I can fix my mistakes, right?”

  Verta couldn’t answer.

  “You helped Momo. And I thank you for that. I have much to learn about [Lover’s Blossom], but… I… I can’t forgive you. Not when this is your fault.”

  Verta felt a dagger destroy her immortal heart. She knew a simple act of kindness couldn’t repair a mistake that caused dozens of eons worth of heartache.

  “The mother you know isn't here. I’m not her. I don’t remember…any of it. So I can’t forgive you. Only that Itarr can, but she may never return. However... We can… We can start anew. Let there be a clean ste between us, Verta.”

  The goddess was shocked when her mother embraced her. Oh, to be within her arms once more…it was all she had dreamed about since regret bolstered within her soul. She felt weak. Her mind raced back to when her mother had spawned her into life. The heavens were much different. Most aspects of life didn’t exist.

  It had been just her, Tobris, and her mother.

  The oldest god and goddess who were formed in her mother’s image. They were born as babies, and Itarr nursed them to adulthood as she learned motherhood. Of course, the Akashic Record was there to instruct her every step of the way.

  This Itarr wasn’t her mother. She merely looked the same. She even held the same voice, but the being inside—the consciousness…

  Well, that person was someone else. Verta wanted to hear one single word.

  Daughter.

  Just to be acknowledged as her daughter once more…

  Verta knew it wouldn’t happen. However, this was a first step—an important milestone. That was enough to make her happy. Her crown of flowers dazzled and sparkled. But the goddess was weak in the legs. Itarr helped her to the ground, where they sat beside each other. The relief was so euphoric that Verta passed out right away. She didn’t intend to lean against Itarr, but she did.

  Itarr felt…conflicted. She didn’t know what to do, so she let Verta rest her weary mind without doing anything extra.

  Carrie smiled as she kneeled. She held Verta’s hand while Itarr asked about her past. “Where I come from isn’t important,” she said. “Primordial Goddess, I…am gd I still live to see this moment. Verta protected me. She saved me from death. Without her? I…should've died a decade ago. I have lived on borrowed time.”

  “What will happen now?”

  “I don’t know. Forgive me, Primordial Goddess.”

  “You can call me Itarr. Please, I…don’t feel I deserve that title.”

  The two discussed [Lover’s Blossom] between bouts of silence while watching Servi and Momo. They didn’t know what Itarr’s host was whispering, but they knew it was something warm.

  RuggyRuggy