Trey sat at the edge of the slope, dazed by the impossible beauty before him. The sprawling, starlit archipelago, walled by mountains, was a sight that drained the tension from his small body. He lay back, not too close to the edge, feeling the damp grass and the cool kiss of snow against his skin. For a moment, he just breathed and smiled.
Suddenly, two cylindrical cups entered his field of vision, blocking the view.
"Mind if I join you? Brought drinks," Light's voice was uncharacteristically soft. Her citrine eyes glowed faintly in the dark as she offered one cup.
Trey's gaze flicked from the cup to her face. Light looked at the cup, then back at his wary expression.
"Relax. It's not poisoned," she said.
To prove it, she took a deliberate sip from one cup, then held the other out to him. "See? Totally safe!" Her smile was awkward, almost strained.
Trey slowly sat up and took the second cup from her hand.
"Um. I'm sorry," Light mumbled, sitting down beside him and curling her knees to her chest. She didn't look at him.
"For what?" Trey asked, taking a cautious sip. It was just cold, clean water.
He glanced at her profile—pale and elegant in the moonlight—then looked away.
"For… overdoing it. With you. I won't do it again. I hope you can forgive me," she said, her voice small.
"You're not going to… do anything to me, right?" Trey asked, the memory of her monstrous form still fresh.
Light raised her right hand. "I swear I won't kill you. Not that I ever really intended to," she vowed.
Trey gave her a sharp look. "That last part is suspicious."
He paused, her words sinking in. "Wait. What do you mean, 'kill' me? What are you talking about?" A cold dread crept up his spine. His hands began to tremble, his breath hitching.
"Huh? You don't remember? We fought. For your bag. Are you pretending, or…?" Light trailed off, tilting her head.
"So that… wasn't a dream?!" Trey's voice rose in confusion. He dropped his head into his hands, the reality crashing down. The fight, the wings, the sheer terror—it was all real.
Light's smile widened, her lips stretching nearly to her ears, sharp canines glinting. She leaned in close, her breath a warm mist against Trey's frozen cheek. He couldn't look away, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.
"At first, I was just joking. About fighting, about killing you. I wanted to scare you off for trespassing. But…" Her whisper was full of perverse wonder. "You surprised me. You actually fought back. With that weak little body, a scrambled mind, and everything against you… you almost killed me, you know? If I hadn't gotten serious at the last second, you really would have done it. That's why I like you."
Her long tongue darted out, licking a stripe up his frozen face.
Trey recoiled, curling into a ball. Tears, hot and sudden, welled in his eyes and spilled over, tracing lines down to his chin. Light retracted her tongue, her expression shifting back to something approximating normal as she pulled away.
"But… maybe I went too far. I'm sorry for what I did. Here," she said, her voice somber now. She placed a heavy, familiar object in his trembling hands.
Trey's eyes bulged. The cold, metallic weight was unmistakable.
"A Glock?" he breathed.
"You're free to do whatever you want with it. Use it as a threat, for protection, or…" Her words hung in the air.
"...kill me?" she finished, her voice a gentle challenge.
"Where did you get this?" Trey's voice was tight.
"From your bag," Light said simply.
With practiced, automatic movements, Trey ejected the magazine, checked the chamber, and slammed it back home with a final click. He took several deep, steadying breaths, the weapon feeling both alien and intimately familiar in his child-sized hands.
"I accept your… suggestion. To only use it for threats. But I'd prefer if we just called a truce," Trey said, his voice firmer now.
"Pfft. Aha! We're not at war, you know? But okay. Truce," Light chuckled, a more normal smile gracing her lips. She held out her hand.
Trey hesitated, his own hand shaking slightly, then reached out and shook it.
Just then, the night wind swept the clouds aside, and the full moon's brilliant light bathed the hilltop.
Trey's breath caught.
Light's long, jet-black hair shimmered like liquid obsidian, stirred by the gentle breeze. Her citrine eyes glowed with a soft, lamplight radiance. Her fair skin looked like flawless silk, and her gentle smile, on those now-normal lips, was disarming. Sitting there, slender and composed, she looked not like a monster, but like a breathtakingly beautiful woman.
"Aha, no need to be so stiff! A normal handshake is fine," Light said, playfully patting his shoulder.
Trey was speechless, staring.
"Eh? Why are you looking at me like that? Don't tell me you're stunned by my beauty?" Light teased, covering her mouth with her fingers.
"No. It's just… even a terrifying monster like you can look like a normal human," Trey muttered, shaking his head.
"Why would you say that! I am human, too!" Light protested, her voice rising an octave.
"Do normal humans smile and lick people like you do?" Trey shot back.
"Oh. Right. I haven't seen other humans do that. Can't argue," Light conceded with a shrug.
Crunch. Crunch.
The sound of footsteps on frosty grass approached from behind. Trey tensed, his face anxious, while Light remained calm, that wide smile returning.
Elfa walked into the moonlight, hands in the pockets of their blazer. Cradled in their arm was Trey's backpack. Their brow was furrowed, and they held their head high, fixing Trey with a sharp, glaring look. A puff of steam escaped their lips in the cold air. The top button of their shirt was undone, revealing the faint, jagged line of a scar circling their neck.
And behind Elfa, casting a massive shadow, was a Venus Fly Trap. But it was monstrous—five meters tall and wide, its roots slithering across the ground toward Trey and Light. Digestive enzymes dripped from its lobes, sizzling on the snow.
Elfa tossed the backpack at Trey's feet. It fell open, spilling its contents: unfamiliar ID cards, several more weapons, and, most damningly, the fabric was stained with large, dark patches of what could only be dried blood.
"Trey," Elfa said, their voice deceptively calm. "What is all this? Care to explain?"
Trey looked from the furious elf to the terrifying plant, took a deep breath, and stood up to face them.
"I'll explain. But can it be tomorrow? It's late," Trey said, meeting Elfa's gaze.
"No." Elfa's response was icy, their piercing stare unwavering. "What I'm seeing is making me more suspicious of you by the second."
"Fine. The blood on the bag is my own," Trey stated.
"You expect me to believe that?" Elfa's voice remained low, dangerous.
"Believe what you want."
"And these IDs? These weapons? What are they for?" Elfa pressed.
Trey remained silent.
"Hey! I'm talking to you! Answer me!" Elfa's command was a low growl.
"Don't tell me you're a crimin—" Elfa began.
"I'm sorry!" Trey blurted out, bowing his head. "I was desperate! I had no other way to survive!"
"You—!"
"I've stopped! I won't do it again! Please, give me a chance to be better!" Trey pleaded, his voice cracking.
"I told you, I don't believe a word you say!" Elfa snapped.
"Is that so?" Trey straightened up, a strange resignation in his eyes. "Then just arrest me and turn me over to the authorities. Or kill me yourself."
Elfa's eyes widened slightly.
"Tch. I won't hand you over to any authorities," they said coldly. "I'll judge you myself."
"Huh?"
Suddenly, a thick root erupted from the ground, coiling around Trey's limbs and torso with frightening speed, pinning him in place until only his head was free.
Elfa stepped forward and cupped Trey's face. Their touch was gentle, but their eyes were hard.
"Though this violates your privacy, I have no choice," Elfa murmured.
From their index finger, fine, nerve-like rootlets sprouted, spreading across Trey's face and sinking into his skin. Simultaneously, a flower blooming on Elfa's shoulder released a cloud of shimmering pollen. Trey's eyes fluttered shut, and his body went limp.
"Now, let me see your true intentions. You don't mind, do you, Light?" Elfa asked without looking back.
Light merely sat sweetly, not moving from her spot. "I have no problem. As long as he doesn't die, it's fine. But… I hope you won't regret it," she answered, her wide, ear-splitting smile and prominent fangs back in full force.
Elfa leaned in, pressing their forehead against Trey's, and closed their eyes.
TREY'S SUBCONSCIOUS.
Elfa stepped into a world of darkness, silence, vast emptiness, and dampness.
Squelch.
They took a step, and a wet sound echoed. Lifting their foot, they rubbed their thumb and forefinger together, then brought them to their nose and finally, their tongue.
"Pah! Blood?!" they spat, revolted. The liquid they stood in was blood. They realized the entire "ground" of this mental landscape was a shallow, endless sea of it.
They pressed on. Slowly, the ground began to rise, forming a hill. Elfa climbed in the oppressive dark.
At the summit, a single, dim lightbulb hung in the void. Beneath it stood the silhouette of a small child, facing away. Elfa rushed toward the figure.
"Excuse me, child. Where am I?" Elfa asked.
The child turned. The sound of dragging chains and dripping water accompanied the movement. The boy had Trey's face. But he was drenched in blood, with heavy, rusty chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles—chains that weren't attached to anything, just weighing him down.
"Hey, kid, are you okay?!" Elfa said, rushing forward to grip his small shoulders, then taking his hands.
"Don't worry, I'm here to hel—" Elfa froze.
In the child's hand was a bloody knife. On the child's wrists, neck, and stomach were deep, fresh cuts.
The child lifted his head. His eyes were empty sockets, weeping tears of pure blood. Through those hollow voids, Elfa could see the grey matter of his brain.
"Big sister," the child whispered, his voice a hollow echo. "Why won't Mommy let me die?"
ELFA AWAKENS.
Elfa jerked back from Trey's forehead, gasping for air, drenched in a cold sweat. The roots holding Trey recoiled as if burned, retreating into the earth. Trey slumped to the ground, still unconscious but breathing.
Elfa stood up, trembling, head bowed. They walked shakily over to Light and grabbed her shoulder with a vise-like grip.
"Light," Elfa's voice was raw. "Why do you want Trey? Explain."
Light's suspicious smile hadn't faded. "I like him. And you… you and he are the same."
"Huh? I don't understand. What do you mean?" Elfa demanded, their grip tightening.
"Simply put," Light said, her voice a soft, knowing hum. "The three of us… we're the same."
Elfa released their grip as if electrocuted and turned their back on Light.
"Tell Trey… if he wants to change, he'll need supervision. Therapy. Rehabilitation. Counseling," Elfa stated mechanically, their voice hollow.
"You're forgetting something," Light sang softly.
Elfa stood still, listening.
"He also needs a teacher. Sensei Elfa," Light whispered, savoring each syllable.
Elfa didn't respond. They just turned and ran back to the house, disappearing inside.
ELFA'S ROOM.
The door locked with a heavy click. Elfa slid down against it, curling into a tight ball. Their emerald eyes glistened, and silent tears began to fall, tracing paths down their cheeks. They wiped at them furiously with the back of a hand.
With trembling fingers, they unclasped the black choker collar around their neck.
Revealed beneath was a brutal, circular scar. It was rough and discolored, a mottled blue and purple, as if from something coarse and sharp that had been pulled tight—a noose, or perhaps thorned vines. Countless finer, hairline scars radiated from it. Elfa's own fingers traced the ruined skin, a familiar, painful ritual.
"I'm so tired," they whispered into the empty, dark room, the words swallowed by the silence.