The hell...?” Jacques mumbles to himself, pain radiates throughout the back of his skull. His body lays on someone’s shoulders; immediately falling to the ground hearing a man scream nearby as he tries getting back up. He inhales, noticing how easy it is now, going out of his way to touch his nose hoping to see blood still oozing out, but there is nothing. Looking at the path in front of him, he sees a puddle of his own blood.

               “He spoke! I swear I heard him!”

               “Stop screaming, I didn’t raise no pathetic man!”

               “Father, can’t you see? He’s still alive.”

               Jacques turns, facing the three men standing before him in disbelief. Did I do something? He scratches behind his head, slowly making sense of what could be happening. I lost so much blood..., he touches his nose, checking one more time. Still nothing.

               “You— what are you?!” Allen yells, pulling out his gun again.

               Jacques’s face distorts, seeming to look more disgusted than confused over his question. “What are you even talking about?” He stands up slowly, not wanting Allen to shoot him. A strange, powerful pulse resonates around his head when he straightens his back, causing him to almost fall back on his knees.

               “What are you?! Answer me!” Allen becomes more frantic, gritting his teeth and eyes wide as his hand shakes, having to steady it with his other hand.

               “A human,” Jacques tilts his head.

               “Prove it!” Allen stands in position. “That left hand of yours, how far does the prosthetic go?” 

               What? Jacques takes a couple steps back, hoping to pick up his cane without causing him to begin firing. He does not want to tell him, but it might save him, confirm he is, in fact, human, whatever it means. Maybe having prosthetics as part of his body made him less human. An unnatural being of this world, something that should not exist, perhaps. He places his hand over his chest. “Here. Right where my heart is.”

               Allen’s body shakes, his voice making it more obvious. “Then what did I just kill?” He lowers his gun.

               Jacques stares into his eyes. “I thought you knew so much about Tenebuthós.” Not wanting to stay any longer, he dashes back, picking up his cane as he runs down the dull-lighted alleyway. From a distance, he heard Allen’s last words before losing track of whether they were following behind him or not, taking the path to his right without a second thought.

               “Come back you damned, cursed monster!”

               His heart tightens, eyes begin burning slightly as water blurs his vision before blinking them away. It hurt hearing those words, though there should be no reason for feeling that way. Allen’s a soulless man, not caring for those around him, only treating them well when they follow instructions. Something Brielle would tell Jacques when they got the chance to talk. An aspect of Allen he has known for a while now, it should not have to hurt. His words should be meaningless. Running down a short stairway hidden in darkness, he comes across a dead end, walls surrounding him, yellow light illuminating into the somber place Jacques now stands. 

               ”What’s his problem even?” he mumbles to himself, walking to the center. Old discolored brick walls surround him. Random newspapers and flyers littered the place, some being from two years already, something he notices as he picks up a missing person poster of a blond young lady. Jacques lets go, letting the paper fall towards the ground, not wanting to know why it was brought all the way down here. 

⁠               ”He’s insane if he thinks he can mess with me.” Jacques walks around in a circle, “it’s my body”— he points at himself— “so I decide what to do with it!” The bottom of his cane slams against the ground, finishing his sentence. He groans, “sometimes I wish to disappear.” He leans against the wall, immediately phasing through it. In one moment, he saw the short set of stairs and closed off place. In another, he sees a gloomy, thundering sky as he falls on to lifeless grass— brittle to the touch. Jacques swiftly gets up, pulling the sword out of its protective sleeve, looking at his surroundings. 

               Not far from where he stands is a small town, silent with only thunder filling in the sad, little world. Barren trees stand near aging wooden houses, trying to follow the wind’s direction. He slides the sword away, again disguising it as a cane as he leans it against the brick wall to adjust his trench coat. A strange feeling takes over him as he steps into town, following the smooth dirt path, now imprinted with his footsteps. Thunder roars up in the sky, lighting brightening the town already forgotten in time. Few bicycles lay on the ground, definitely from children. A small store and bakery permanently closed for good. Window shards hide in the grass near their respective buildings like a useless barrier. 

               Jacques walks up to an intersection. A well sits at the center connected to four paths, each one leading somewhere different. Much larger than it seems. His gaze remains fixated on the well, a strange inclination to get closer begins taking over.

               “It couldn’t get worse.” Jacques’s grin widens, scoffing at the strange situation he got himself in. He looks behind him: nothing has changed. He did not think of trying to get back, but it does not matter. A quiet place where no one bothers him; complete peace. Something Estersa cannot accomplish as the sun begins to settle and the sky darkens. Instead of becoming paranoid, scared of not being able to return, he feels at peace... the tightening of his heart vanishes, his mind clear of much thought. If he could stay, he would. No second thought. He weirdly feels right at home.