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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The first thing he remembered was how warm it was. It was warmer than home had ever been. And birds.

He heard birds.

And the lapping of gentle waves on a not so distant shore.

And pain.

He was in an excruciating amount of pain. "Ugh…uuugh." He groaned, trying to stir his stiff and aching body.

"You're awake at last?" A melodic voice asked with a hint of humor behind her words.

"Where…am I?" At last, Blumiere was able to open his eyes. He was immediately assaulted by the light and he grimaced as he squeezed his eyes shut. He groaned in pain once more.

The melodic voice chuckled.

After a few deep breaths, Blumiere was able to crack his eyes open. He stared at the space around him. He appeared to be in a small cottage. The walls were a warm cream color, the roof was a sturdy redwood. Flowers hung by the open window, blowing in a gentle smelling breeze. "Is this…a human home?" Blumiere made a noise of disgust. His eyes widened and he shuffled back into the corner he was in as far as his body would allow him.

"Don't wiggle like that." The young woman seated beside his bed was reaching out to him. Blumiere pressed himself further into the corner, willing the walls to swallow him whole. He trembled under her soft hand as if her very skin was poison on his own. "I found you at the base of the cliff," the young woman said. Blumiere looked her over, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as a chill ran down his spine. "You took quite a fall." And, as if to punctuate that, Blumiere noticed her hand wasn't touching his skin, as he'd previously thought. Rather, she was touching the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. A dark purple blotch of blood soaked through the rags.

As if seeing the wound was enough to shock him back into his body, Blumiere suddenly felt the pain in his side tenfold. He relaxed slowly, easing back onto the bed. The young woman looked over his face slowly, before looking back down at his wound. Blumiere watched her intently. Her silver blonde hair fell over her shoulder in long waves and seemed to glow radiantly in the warm sunshine. When she finished inspecting his bandage and leaned back, he saw her eyes were an electrifying shade of blue.

"You're a human, correct?" He quietly blurted out. He instantly closed his mouth and felt his cheeks grow hot as those electrifying eyes were turned to him. Her head tilted curiously to the side, and he caught a glimpse of the rainbow ribbon in her hair. His mouth went dry when she didn't immediately respond. "That is to say…I don't…repulse you? I am on the Tribe of Darkness."

The woman smiled, though her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Why would that matter?" she lightly shook her head, "Anyone with a heart would not ignore an injured soul." She said it so matter-of-factly that for a moment, Blumiere believed her.

"I," Blumiere swallowed hard, "I am…Lord Blumiere."

"Oh? A lord?" The woman's eyebrows shot up. She was so expressive, an open book.

Blumiere felt another rush of heat, "A meaningless title, really." he mumbled. It was a title passed to the heir of the Dark Prognosticus protector. But, really, it was his father who had the true power, he alone who protected the Dark Prognosticus from falling into hands that may seek to use its dark power. His father, the Count — a title he would one day inherit — was strict in where he allowed his son to wander. Afterall, he would one day have to cease his own life and give it to the Dark Prognosticus. He would have to protect the dark book of prophecies from desperate eyes.

It came back to him, that was why he was by the cliff. He'd managed to sneak away from the castle, hoping to avoid another lecture on duty, on sacredness, on whatever droll nonsense his father managed to concoct that morning. Shame it had been raining. Blumiere was so caught up in the relaxing nature of the storm, allowing the rain to wash over him and feel every drop as it soaked him to the bone, that he hadn't noticed how far from home he had wandered. The cliff, which separated their tribe from the humans below, was unstable. All it had taken was the wrong step and Blumiere left the world of darkness, clouds, rain, and duty behind.

"Well, Lord Blumiere," The woman smiled, "My name is Timpani." A percussion, like his own heartbeat that seemed to intensify when he realized her smile was meant for him alone. "Just, Timpani."

Blumiere breathed out, then immediately winced and grabbed his side.

"Careful," Timpani jumped to her feet and laid her hand on his. Blumiere tensed up as electricity ran down his spine once more.

"How…how long have I been here?" He asked as they both slowly eased back into their respective seats.

"A few hours." Timpani answered him. She stood and Blumiere watched as her blue sky dress swished against the wood floor. She retreated to the far end of the cottage and carefully retrieved a kettle that was hanging over a roaring fire. "I was starting to grow worried when you finally began to stir."

"Well, worrying you was not my intention, I assure you." The very last thing Blumiere wanted to do was upset his savior.

Timpani giggled as she poured the contents of the kettle into two separate teacups."I hope you're fine with chamomile." She said as she returned and offered a teacup to him. Blumiere accepted it wordlessly, afraid to further make a fool of himself. Timpani returned to her seat and began to sip her tea.

Blumiere cautiously raised the tea to his lips and drank as well. The warmth flooded him immediately, and though it was already quite warm and peaceful in the seaside cottage, he felt more at ease and relaxed as he slowly drank his tea. The pair sat in a comfortable silence sipping their drinks and watching the sea outside the window.

Worlds away, across oceans and fields, over valleys and mountains, another twisted tale of fate was set in motion with the arrival of a marvelous magician to a kingdom at war.

"Be still, Dimentio." The magician pulled his son back to his seat, "You and that head of yours, in the clouds and dimensions away no doubt."

"But did you see this castle?" Dimentio asked his father, "So lavish and ostentatious while the people fight and starve." His face was screwed up in disgust.

"Hush." His father tweaked his ear. "It is only through the king and queen's generosity that you yourself are not on the front lines. That we may continue our research without fear." Dimentio resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew his father was right. "You must better learn to hide your expressions." His father instructed him, "You will be vulnerable to the untrustworthy fools in this court, and we cannot risk this position." Dimentio nodded. He knew the importance of his father's work, the ability to read ancient text and recreate their technology — most notably, the pixls. Marvelous pieces of magic and technology meant to accomplish any task given to it. The art had nearly been lost, but it lived on in his bloodline. Dimentio was not nearly as skilled as his father was in seamlessly blending magic and technology, but he had other strengths.

Performing magic, making a spectacle of himself, Dimentio was most at ease when he could fool whole crowds of mindless people. None of them ever suspected the magician being the pickpocket, but Dimentio did not need to scrape for scraps anymore.

Now, they were living lavishly, aiding the king of a warring kingdom.

Still, the dissonance of the castle from the kingdom was stark. Even their living quarters was richer than any of the inns and hostings they'd ever stayed in before. Grey stone and marble lined every surface, rich thick carpets covered the floor, and they were given rich bedding and dressings as compensation.

Dimentio bit his tongue to keep from receiving another lecture, and it was not a moment too soon as the doors to their quarters were thrown open.

In strode King Thornious VIII, "Good evening, Sir Lodur." Both men turned and bowed respectfully to the king, though Dimentio bowed lower in mockery until his father subtly nudged his leg with his own. When both men came out of their bow, the king looked around their living space, "I take it the quarters are to your liking?"

"Yes, sir, and I once again humbly thank you for the invitation to—,"

King Thornious silenced Lodur with a wave of his hand, his expression disinterested in the flattery he must've been accustomed to. "Just so long as you can provide the results I am after. I hope to have a prosperous relationship."

"Of course, your majesty." Lodur answered with a bow.

Dimentio did not bow again, though King Thornious did not seem to notice, nor care about his presence. It wasn't until the King had left with instructions on how to summon the servants that Lodur and Dimentio could breathe easily once again.

"Your impertinence will be the death of you, boy." Lodur sighed, "Might you go find some use of your time elsewhere?"

Dimentio knew that was his father's way of asking him to get lost, so he nodded wordlessly and slipped silently out of their living quarters. The rest of the castle was somehow more gaudy and garish, but it was surprisingly sparse when it came to life.

Lifeless paintings of kings and queens long dead lined the walls. Beautiful nature took stood as facsimiles on the cold, unnatural halls. Dimentio found himself wandering aimlessly, exploring unseen nooks and crannies until he came across a rising set of stairs. He looked up the tower, then looked down. It seemed to stretch to eternity in either direction.

Below, he could hear hushed and angry whispers. Curious, the magician's son slinked down the stairs, silent on his felted feet as he approached a door. Dimentio laid a pointed ear to the simply wooden door and listened.

"Peace could be reached if father wasn't so thick headed. Honestly, pixls? Has he forgotten what pixls have done to this world? The war they caused?"

"Hush, your highness." Another voice said, "If your father has a reason for hiring that magician, I'm sure it is for the benefit of this kingdom." That gave Dimentio pause. Highness? The princess? Oh, yes, Dimentio had heard rumors of the princess. So…she was also not a fan of this arrangement.

"If father would invest in his people instead of his useless allies on the other side of the world, we wouldn't even need a magician." Dimentio scrambled away from the door as the voice on the other side drew closer. He hadn't made it quite far enough before the door swung open and he was spotted.

"Stop there!" He was ordered. Dimentio grimaced at being caught. That didn't normally happen. He could normally slip away unnoticed from any scene. "Turn and face me, spy." A venomous voice ordered.

Not wanting to risk his father's appointment with the king, Dimentio spun on his heel and dipped into his lowest bow, "Apologies, your highness." He used the title he had heard earlier in hopes he was actually addressing the princess. "My intentions were not to spy, but simply to—,"

"Face me while you speak. I can assure you, your shoes were not the ones addressing you."

Dimentio paused, that was…unexpected from a princess. He slowly pulled himself out of his bow, his eyes trailing up the graceful form of the princess. His mouth went dry and for the first time in his life, he felt nervous to have eyes on him. Dimentio had performed in front of crowds teetering near the several hundreds, and yet those thousands of eyes gave him no pause. But the princess. Her heart-stopping eyes stared through him, straight to his soul.

The princess had fair skin, with not a blemish or mark to otherwise show a life of struggles. Her dark curls cascaded down her back and ended at her waist. She wore, in Dimentio's opinion, a very plain dress for a princess, but it was the same beautiful shade of violet as her eyes. Her eyes were narrowed at she stared at him curiously.

Dimentio swallowed, "Apologies, your highness." He repeated, finally finding his tongue, "My intentions were not to spy—,"

"You are the magician's son, are you not?" The princess cut him off again.

"Yes, your highness." Dimentio answered.

"And what is your name, magician's son?" She asked.

"Dimentio, your highness." Dimentio felt like a pull-string doll and he forced himself to ask, "And yours, your highness?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and Dimentio realized he'd made a fool of himself, not knowing the name of the princess of the kingdom that now employed his father. Still, she humored him, "Acrocantheia."

"Acro." Dimentio repeated with a nod. Her name bounced around his skull until it stuck firmly.

Her eyes narrowed at him once more, "Acrocantheia."

"Acro." Dimentio nodded once more. Her name wiggled its way out of his shivering stomach and up into his heart.

The princess inhaled and exhaled loudly, irritated, but she stayed quiet. She looked him up and down, "Perhaps…it is not a total waste." She gripped the skirt of her gown, "Having you here." She clarified. And without so much as a goodbye, she ascended the stairs past him.

Reader, have you ever been so hopelessly, deeply, utterly in love?

Chapter Text

Blumiere ran as fast as he could with the pain that lingered in his abdomen. He only slowed down once the trees began to thin and the sunlight began to break through. He could see it. The little seaside village he'd come to yearn for during his time atop the mountain. Blumiere stood in the shade, his eyes scanned the coastal homes and the languidly moving inhabitants. For a moment, Blumiere enjoyed the cool breeze and tried to even his breathing.

Sneaking out hadn't gone exactly as planned, but he'd done it, and it had been the most exhilarating experience of his life!

Blumiere's heart thudded to a stop as he spotted the more isolated seaside cottage. And outside, sitting in the shade of a large tree, was his beautiful Timpani. His heart. Blumiere straightened himself out and made his way to the cottage.

He paused at the decrepit fence that separated their two worlds and bent down to pluck a soft pink flower. Its soft color reminded him of her. He twirled it in between his index and thumb finger as he walked the rest of the way towards Timpani's home.

The young woman was reading a book, her hair pulled back with the rainbow ribbon in a ponytail to keep the silvery-blonde strands from flying in the wind. She was so enraptured by her story that, for a moment, Blumiere stood on the outskirts of her vision and just watched her. She hadn't even noticed him, and he got to admire her. She was absolutely glowing.

Blumiere swallowed and gently cleared his throat, Timpani instantly blinked out of her story. He stepped forward and bent down just enough so she could tell it was only him and he held out the flower, "My lady." He greeted her quietly.

"Lord Blumiere!" Timpani jumped up and hugged him tightly. Blumiere returned the gesture, though the shock of being held made his motions far less natural. Timpani was always finding the most mundane things to surprise him with. When she pulled away, he wordlessly showed her the flower once more. "A carnation? It's beautiful." Timpani accepted his gift.

Blumiere wanted to compare her beauty to the flower, but he was still so caught up in her embrace that he only smiled.

"Some people say carnations symbolize devotion and fascination." Timpani said absentmindedly as she stroked the soft petals of the flower.

"An apt flower." Blumiere noted quietly to himself, then he cleared his throat once more and asked, "Do all flowers have meaning?"

"Yes, but most tend to be about love or friendship." Timpani nodded.

"And, how do you know this?" Blumiere asked.

"My mother was a botanist." She explained. "She grew this garden," she gestured to the plants growing against the house and the far fence, "and she used to make medicinal herbs from the local plants."

"Fascinating." Blumiere mused quietly. "Not much grows on the mountain." He noted, "your village seems to be bursting with life compared to home."

At the mention of his home, she frowned, "You're late." She said, and she looked over him with a concern that made Blumiere absolutely melt. "Did something happen?" He had warned her that meeting might be difficult, and she had remembered.

Blumiere chuckled and nodded, "Yes. My father caught me." He'd been caught sneaking back into the castle when he first returned home a week ago. He'd only been gone from home a few hours, but it was enough to send his father into a panic. Blumiere had expectations and duties to fulfill, he couldn't just disappear like that. Not that it had been his intention at the time, but it most certainly had been today. A week was too long away from Timpani. In the few short hours they'd spent together, Blumiere had grown fascinated with her. She knew he was of the Tribe of Darkness, a corrupt and ancient bloodline that shielded themselves around the Dark Prognosticus, and yet, she treated him no differently than any other person.

And Blumiere found her extremely beautiful.

Finding his words once more he added, "Sneaking out of the castle wasn't easy after that." Try impossible. Blumiere had been fearful he'd miss this predetermined time with Timpani, and she'd grow to think the worst of him. But, by some grace, Blumiere had found time in his day to sneak away — this time, not by the way of the cliff.

"I was worried you wouldn't come…" Timpani mirrored his own fears.

Blumiere smiled at her, "You are a strange girl…You know what I am and yet you do not seem afraid." It would have been natural for her to be afraid. She was, after all, just a human. Humans all looked the same, so anything different, anything unlike them was seen as unnatural. Yet Blumiere, who had skin like the midnight sky, and eyes like hot coals, who could wield magic as easily as any skilled magician, the Lord of the Tribe of Darkness…did not scare her. She never once looked upon him in fear.

"I don't care who you are." Timpani stepped closer to him once more, "I just wanted to see you." She looked up at him with those electrifying eyes and Blumiere could almost feel the static buzzing under his skin from her gaze.

When Blumiere did not respond, Timpani quietly asked, "Is that…is that so wrong?"

Blumiere blinked, "No," he shook his head and quickly grabbed her hands in his, "No, of course not." He quickly reassured her. In a bold move, he laid her hands over his chest where his heart was, "I wanted to see you too…" he whispered gently.

For a beat, Timpani and Blumiere gazed at each other. The sea breeze blew crisp through the leaves.

A motion behind her caught Blumiere's eye and he quickly said, "Your book!"

"Oh!" Timpani turned and quickly went back to her book, which had been blown closed from the wind, "Oh, I've lost my page." She frowned.

Blumiere chuckled, though the pain in his side was catching up to him and he lowered himself down at the base of the tree with a wince of pain. "You are a strange girl." He said once again.

Timpani looked down at the book as she flipped through the pages to find where she'd left off. Once she'd found her page she smiled and looked down at him. "Blumiere?"

He hummed and looked up at her.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" She asked.

Blumiere was bewildered by her request, "Please do, Timpani. Let's return to our conversation, I must know more of you…"

Dimentio had done his best to track the princess's schedule. He wanted to see her again, to talk to her. He wasn't even sure why, it was just an itch that wasn't satisfied until his father would unleash him from his work and he would be free to explore the castle.

It had only been a week, but every glance of her in the halls had been enough to have his heart seize in his chest.

She was a wound he wanted to pick at.

It had taken some convincing, a private show to a select few, just to hear the whispers of her name. A typical transaction for him.

Acrocantheia was a rather predictable princess. She had her studies in her private study, her meals in her quarters, and her free time was spent alone. Even though she was the princess, she had somehow managed to convince the king and the queen that she needed her alone time, and it had been granted. So, while the staff knew where she could be, no one could give him a definitive answer.

"And you don't need one." His father had said their second morning there as they'd gotten started, "She is a princess, and you're a fool of a magician. We have our job and she has hers."

But, he finally found her one afternoon when his father had been particularly generous and allowed him to leave their work early. The princess Acrocantheia was on a balcony overseeing the palace gardens. The gardens themselves were green and well maintained, but if one looked just a little farther beyond the palace gates they would see the brown, decaying fields of the kingdom.

Acrocantheia was studying this view intently when Dimentio happened to stroll by and spot her.

"Your highness." He hadn't forgotten his manners and he bowed to the princess.

Acrocantheia turned and looked upon him with mild indifference, "Oh, it is you."

"How have you been, my dear?" Dimentio asked, the endearing name slipping out of him so naturally that he hadn't even noticed until Acrocantheia sharply turned and stared at him.

She quickly composed herself before she turned back to face the gardens, "I am well." Dimentio cautiously stepped out onto the balcony to join her. When she did not immediately send him away or verbally lash at him, he leaned on the railing beside her. "And how are you?" She asked suddenly, as if remembering her own manners.

"Very well, your highness, now that I have found you." Dimentio answered honestly.

Acrocantheia let out a single laugh before she quickly closed her mouth and turned a bright red. A laugh? A laugh! A beautiful laugh, one Dimentio wanted to hear again. "Pardon me," Acrocantheia said, "Find me?" She asked.

"Yes," Dimentio nodded, "Like a ghost, you seem to flit about the castle just out of my reach."

Acrocantheia tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned to look at him and Dimentio's heart stood still. "And what if I didn't want to be reached by the likes of you?" She asked, though with the smirk on her ruby lips Dimentio debated on taking the bait.

"Your highness," Dimentio laid a hand to his heart, feigning being wounded, "Is this how the royal family treats their guests?" He took it.

"Only guests who are the sons of magicians." She reeled back.

"I am not just the son of a magician." Dimentio said rather proudly.

"Oh really?" Acrocantheia asked, amused.

"Yes, really." And with very little effort, Dimentio pulled himself up onto the railing of the balcony. Then, in a fluid motion that made the princess gasp and step back, he lifted himself into a headstand, "I am also a performer." He winked.

Acrocantheia watched him in awe as he turned and expertly bent backwards until his feet touched the railing again. Dimentio pulled himself back upright, straightened his clothes, and shook out his hair before he struck a bow on the railing. "A pleaser of crowds." He said. "From the high nobility," he snapped and a sprinkle of magical sparkles leapt from his fingers. He jumped down and landed beside her, magical sparkles splashed up around his feet, "To the lower class."

"That was completely dangerous." Acrocantheia seemed to find her voice after a beat of smug silence from Dimentio. His smirk only widened when she added, "And completely amazing."

The pair stayed on the balcony and spoke, back and forth their words danced. He spoke of his childhood, traveling across the continent, his father offering his services when he could and Dimentio performing for meager earnings when that didn't work. Acrocantheia listened, she shared a little of her childhood — born sickly and isolated from much of the castle and her kingdom, she'd grown to keep books as companions and thus knew the history of the world front and back.

"Haven't you ever wanted to take your learnings and make it on your own?" Acrocantheia asked. "Surely with your skills—?"

"My skills?" Dimentio repeated, "Your highness, my skills are making people smile and forget the pain of this world. I am a performer, my father is the real magician."

"Forcing magic and technology together to create a sentient machine?" Acrocantheia asked.

"Well, when you say it that way." Dimentio muttered.

"That is what it is." Acrocantheia insisted. "You, though —,"

"Your highness, I appreciate the compliment, I truly do." Dimentio looked at her, "But performing magic is just that, smoke and mirrors."

"But you could go anywhere…do anything." Acrocantheia's voice grew quiet.

Dimentio hadn't even realized they were leaning into each other until he saw her pinkie outstretched toward his hand on the railing. He glanced up at her, she stared back at him. Dimentio slowly hooked his pinkie around hers. Acrocantheia turned her hand so that he could intertwine his fingers with hers and she didn't stop him.

"Your highness?" He looked at her.

Acrocantheia looked back at him, "I've only ever had old dusty tombs as my companions…even now, the staff only barely tolerate me." Dimentio boldly tucked one of her loose curls back behind her ear, his gloved fingers trailing down her jaw. "But you, pleaser of crowds," she looked at him intently, "you're still here…why?" She was confused.

Dimentio was too, "As the son of a magician, I can never reveal my secrets."

Chapter Text

Blumiere was growing desperate.

Things had been going so well, he and Timpani had their routine: Meet up at the beginning of each week to spend a few precious hours together. Even if they had nothing to talk about, they just enjoyed each other's company and Blumiere relished being free with her. He had learned so much of the world from her: the beauty in nature, the life in the world, how precious, beautiful, and unique each living thing was, how everything had its own wants and needs to thrive. And he had taught her the history of his people, no matter how dark and corrupt it seemed, Timpani drank the information up and asked questions when she had them.

Her cottage became their own little slice of paradise, a place where Blumiere felt unconditional love and warmth. Where Timpani taught him how to make the best teas, and what each tea was good for — chamomile was for headaches, stress, and tension. Where Blumiere showed Timpani some of the magic he'd been learning since he was a boy. Where they could steal time away from the world and love each other as if there were no barrier between their worlds.

And then, two painful weeks ago, she had been strangely missing from their meet up spot. She hadn't been home either. Blumiere had been so worried, but he couldn't stick around. As the sun began to set, he had to return home. He was halfway back up the mountain when he finally turned back and saw the light on at Timpani's house.

Part of him knew he had to be home sooner rather than later, but in that moment he had been so worried about Timpani that he didn't care. He ran back down to her house, pounded on the garden door, begged her to see him.

But she had sent him away, claiming she felt ill.

He'd stood outside her house, listening to the harsh waves of the ocean crash onto the shore. With each crash, a bit of his heart seemed to be chipped away. And when it became clear that Timpani truly would not see him, he slowly turned and left.

The next week was the same, but Blumiere would not let this go on for a third week.

He needed to see her, to ensure all was well. It consumed his every waking thought, and though they'd been so careful this last year, he was sure one more week without her and he would break in front of his father — and that was a whole situation he wanted to avoid.

Blumiere rushed out of the castle the first opportunity he got, he needed answers. He needed to see her. His heart.

Blumiere ran, he wasn't sure what was pumping faster, his legs or his heart. Either way, he broke through the darkness of his world and entered the warmth of Timpani's world in record time. And he wasn't planning on slowing down.

Timpani was in her garden, unaware of his presence — of course she would be, he was hours earlier than normal. Still, he called out, "Timpani!"

Timpani looked up in shock at being shouted at, "Lord Blumiere?"

In a most undignified manner, Blumiere grabbed the garden gate and hoisted himself up and over it. Timpani backed away from him toward her cottage, her eyes wide as saucers with fear. Fear?

"Timpani, why?" He grabbed her wrist to keep her from turning and running. He panted heavily, his run having caught up with him, "Why do you avoid me?"

"Ow…OW! Unhand me!" Timpani fought against his grip and shoved against him.

Blumiere, shocked by his own grip on her, suddenly let go and stepped back as if burned. Timpani staggered back against her cottage and pressed her hands to her face.

"Huh?" Blumiere breathed out. He eased a step forward, "You-you're crying! Why?" He stepped up and gently grabbed her wrists, "Timpani, you must tell me what has happened!" He managed to pull her hands away from her face and see she was crying. Her nose was red and fat tears seemed to spill over with no end. Had someone hurt her? But who would hurt such a pure heart?

"It's nothing…" Timpani shook her head, "Don't worry about it…Just forget it…" But it was clear to Blumiere that it wasn't nothing.

"Timpani…" Blumiere couldn't believe that this was all just…nothing! Something not to worry about! Blumiere had been so distracted with grief he'd all but run away from home —

…

"Oh…oh no…Timpani," He hooked a finger under her chin and gently raised her head so she was looking at him, "is my father behind this?" Had Blumiere been so caught up in the euphoria of his visits that he hadn't noticed his father was no longer suspicious of his absence?

At the mere mention of his father, Timpani's eyes grew wider and she began to shake her head. "I'm…" She choked out, "I'm just an ordinary girl…A human. No matter how much I love you, we must part." Blumiere began to shake his head as she spoke.

"Timpani…I…" His father. That was it. His father had somehow gotten to Timpani…how and when and why didn't matter. What mattered was he was going to reassure Timpani for the rest of his game that he loved her and would have her as she is.

"This is goodbye…Blumiere." Timpani pulled her hands from his, "There is no other choice." Tears hung from her eyelashes, "This is our fate."

It was the same nonsense his own father had spouted to him since the day he was born. His fate. His fate to protect the Dark Prognosticus. His fate to be Count. His fate! "And what if I choose to make my own fate?" Blumiere asked.

"Blumiere, please…no one would accept us." Timpani said, "No matter where we go. And you have your duty —,"

"To the Underwhere with duty. Timpani, you said you loved me." Blumiere cupped her cheeks in his hands, "Is it true?"

Timpani looked at him in shock, "Of course!"

"Then…" Blumiere knew if he just left with no planning that his father would find them. They had no supplies, no destination, no chance of surviving without a plan. He licked his dry lips, "Then give me — give us — time to reconsider our options."

"Blumiere…"

"I love you, Timpani…please." Blumiere pleaded.

Timpani thought it over, "Your father…" She said quietly.

Blumiere shook his head, "Pay him no mind. He can do nothing to keep me from you, not truly." In reality, Blumiere knew he'd have to fight tooth and nail if his father ever actually caught him. How the two had managed to sneak away from the other was a mystery for another time.

"And then I just—," Dimentio snapped his fingers and sparks flew.

Acrocantheia giggled behind her book and rolled her eyes, "Stop, I am trying to study."

"Oh, my darling," Dimentio leaned across the table and stuck a finger in between the pages she was supposedly reading, "We both know you've memorized this book forwards and backwards." He saw the spark of mischief in her eyes and moved his finger out of the way as she snapped the book shut. "Your highness," He waggled his finger disapprovingly, "is that any way to treat a book?"

"You really are impossible to be around." Acrocantheia shook her head. She sighed and stood up, intent on returning the book to its proper home. Dimentio followed her through the shelves of the castle's library.

"What's impossible," Dimentio said, "is finding a book in here you have not already devoured, like a hungry little bookworm looking for a tasty morsel." Acrocantheia opened her mouth to retort, but when she turned to Dimentio she found him standing over her. Pinned between the fool and the bookshelf, the princess was suddenly speechless. Dimentio took advantage of the unusual silence to cup her chin in one hand, "And while I am not a bookworm, I have indeed found a tasty morsel."

"Dimentio…" Acrocantheia whispered. He could feel her quickened breath on his cheek as he leaned down to be closer to her.

"Princess…"

The doors to the library were opened and Dimentio slipped away a respectful distance before they could be found. Acrocantheia turned to face the bookshelf, a familiar, indifferent expression slipping over her face. They'd both become masters at locking away their thoughts and emotions.

King Thornious and Lodur walked by together, then paused and stepped back to face the pair. "Acrocantheia, there you are." King Thornious sounded relieved, then he spotted Dimentio standing a few feet behind his daughter, "Jester." It wasn't often Thornious addressed him, but he had taken to calling Dimentio 'jester' on account of the many performances he'd put on in the castle. It didn't help that, to mock him, Dimentio took to wearing bells and harlequin clothes.

"I told you they might be here." Lodur said quietly. He looked between the king and his son uncomfortably. The look on his face screamed 'what have you done now, boy?'

"Father." Acrocantheia curtsied to her father, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Thornious did not venture into the library, the matter must've been urgent.

"Here I come to bring my daughter to the grand reveal of the first pixl in two thousand years," Thornious stepped forward toward his daughter. Dimentio's hands twitched by his side. He wanted to step up beside her, but he knew his place. Acrocantheia did not wither under his steel gaze. "And I find, not only has she dismissed her tutor for the day…but the jester is here with you. Unsupervised." His dark eyes turned towards Dimentio.

"Your majesty," Lodur carefully interjected, "As I said…I have been asking my son to educate the princess on the many benefits of pixls —," A blatant lie, but Lodur was trying to protect his son. Dimentio's heart hammered in his chest, but he held the king's gaze when it fell on him.

Lodur's words did not sway the king.

"Acrocantheia, I know not where you've gotten this…foolish spirit from," Thornious's eyes flickered between his daughter and Dimentio, "but it ends. Now."

At this, Acrocantheia finally spoke up, "Father, we have done no harm. I am still participating in my studies, and Sir Lodur is correct in that Dimentio has been educating me —,"

"You have the best scholars available to you!" Thornious shouted, "You do not learn from jesters. From fools! You will fill your mind with drivel and your thoughts will decay with time." He turned around to Lodur, who stared at the king wide eyed, "You. Your pixl had better work. Or it will be his head," he pointed a finger back at Dimentio, "and yours." He pointed at Lodur. "And if it does work, your work in this kingdom is finished."

The silence rang in Dimentio's ears.

Though libraries were meant to be quiet, the silence was deafening.

"Acrocantheia." Thornious motioned for her to walk ahead of him.

For a moment, she didn't move — and Dimentio thought with a brief flicker of hope — that she would refuse. Dimentio's hands flexed by his side. Oh, how he wanted to pull her into his arms and show the king a heart stopping performance. However, a second later he heard the swishing of her gown as she gathered up her skirts and stormed from the library. Thornious huffed and addressed Lodur again, "Control your fool of a son, or I will have to do so myself." And then, he too left.

It wasn't until the library doors were slammed shut that Lodur addressed his son, "Are you alright?" Dimentio only nodded. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. "Good…now what were you thinking? When I gave you the freedom to roam, I thought you might do your little performances, mingle with a few servants — not go straight for the princess! I warned you of this!" The pair began to walk out of the library, though Lodur kept his voice quiet.

Dimentio said nothing, half of his heart was still thudding from how close he had been to Acrocantheia, how close they'd been to each other, and she hadn't pushed him away. She'd stopped pushing him away a while ago, and yet it still gave him a thrill when she'd pull him closer. The other half of his heart was breaking…had he just been banished, forbidden from seeing his beloved? Would the secret rendezvous end? Were they just giving up that easily? He had to know! He had to find his princess.

"I know magic is more of a game to you, but this is our history…perhaps it is time we both start taking that seriously." Lodur's quiet lecture went in one ear and out the other.

Dimentio followed his father back to their living quarters. Most of it had been taken up by their experiments, but that was nearing its end. He turned and faced the door as it closed behind them. He needed to find Acrocantheia, he needed to see his princess.

"Look at this, no wonder the king thinks a fool of you." Lodur pulled at the bells on his hat.

Dimentio pulled away. Acrocantheia thought the bells were charming, funny even.

Lodur sighed, "Dimentio…son," He turned back to his father, "There are other women in the world. Women with fathers who won't kill you. And the princess—,"

"Acro." Dimentio said absentmindedly.

Lodur sighed, "Grambi, help him…" He spoke up again, "The princess will be married off to a prince or a duke or a count or a lord! She will be well taken care of and given what she needs."

"What she needs is me." Dimentio turned to face his father. "I alone have been able to gift Acro a smile. I alone have gotten her to open up, to see the world from her window where before she saw hopelessness."

"Son, listen to yourself." Lodur shook his head, "This foolishness will get you killed. Better her have a happy memory of you, then a memory of you dead."

Chapter Text

Blumiere had never been struck by his father before. He'd been reckless, he knew that now — but to be struck and screamed at…

Timpani had been filled with a righteous rage when she'd seen the mark on his cheek. "It is nothing compared to the wound I carry, knowing my father has made threats against you." Blumiere reassured her.

He spent the next few weeks planning his every move. He had to be able to sneak out without putting Timpani at risk. And eventually, he would have to sneak out with some essentials, though the more he thought on it, the more he realized all he needed was Timpani. He wouldn't spring this on her, he'd tell her what he thought, let her know his idea. They had time.

They could run away together, run far from this place, find a home to make their own.

All he needed was her.

But, he was far more cautious around his father. Blumiere wasn't sure when he'd gone to Timpani, but he was taking no chances. He'd even postponed meeting with Timpani, just to throw his father off whatever trail he'd been following. He only hoped Timpani would understand when he saw her again. It hurt his heart to know he could not see her, he couldn't even send a message to her to let her know she was still in his heart.

She was his heart. His Timpani. His heart beat.

Sneaking out of the place he'd called home for so long, Blumiere felt a storm of emotions inside him. He was excited, eager, nervous, terrified. He had only ever known his tribe and the seaside village, running away to some new land…it would be an adjustment for sure. But that was a minor sacrifice that he was willing to make. He would cross a hundred — a thousand worlds — if it meant he got to live and love Timpani in peace.

He kept moving, going over in his head a million words and a million plans. He moved swiftly down a path that had come to be as familiar as the back of his own hand. Soon, hopefully soon, he'd be able to leave this place behind forever. He'd leave his cursed fate behind and forge a new fate with Timpani by his side. It didn't matter where, so long as she was with him.

The seaside village came into view, the little windows of the homes all glowing a warm golden glow on this clear, dark night.

Blumiere picked up his pace. He had a skip in his step as he crossed the threshold between their worlds. He went over the conversation in his head. He would pour his heart out to Timpani, he would convince her by any means necessary to run away with him, to go as far from here as possible. He wouldn't spend his life bound to a book that could only condemn the damned, a life that would prevent him from ever being truly free or happy. And it wasn't fair of her to keep him hidden from her people, she was a rare find who wasn't instantly disgusted by him. So, finding a place to call their own was their only choice. Finding a place that would accept them, that would allow them to live their lives together in peace…it was the only way. It would keep her safe, and that was what mattered to him.

Blumiere whispered the words to himself as he crossed the garden and knocked on the back door to Timpani's cottage.

Timpani answered, beautiful as always, and looked surprised to see him. Her silver-blonde hair shone like a pearl in the grinning moon's light, and her electric-blue eyes pierced his very soul. "Blumiere…what are you doing here? It is late…are you alright?" She looked over him with concern and reached out to him.

The words completely failed him and Blumiere blurted out, "Marry me?"

There was a beat of silence. Every well-planned point of conversation Blumiere had come up with was suddenly gone.

Timpani blinked and her eyes widened, "Wh-what?" She chuckled, confused.

Blumiere shook his head, his mouth was dry, "Timpani, I have spent the past few weeks going over every possible route our fates may take us, I have spent days thinking of what to do and how to make this work and," He'd worked himself up, but he took a breath to give them both a moment to think, "and I realized I don't need anything, nay, I don't want anything in this world but you."

"What…what are you thinking," Timpani moved aside and opened the door so he could step into her home, "There's no possible way…no one would allow it!" She had the same thoughts as he did.

"That is just it, my love," Blumiere stepped in and held her hands, "If we can't be happy here, we must leave for a place that will accept our love."

"But, Blumiere, is there such a place? Think…" She cupped his cheek in her hand, he turned to kiss her palm, "I can't bear to see you hurt again." Blumiere thought back to their first meeting over a year ago, how Timpani had found him at the base of the cliff and nursed him back to health. How she had never pushed him away when he returned and wanted to know more about her. She had always been so welcoming, so inviting, so pure…They needed a place full of people like her, pure hearted, who would accept them and their love.

"If our love has no home…" Blumiere wrapped his arms around Timpani's waist and pulled her close, "Let us spend our lives searching together…" He looked over her face, feeling nothing but love for the human that had saved his life. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and hope. Blumiere's heart felt full, "So I beg of you again, Timpani…Marry me! I promise I will make you happy." His heart hammered in his chest.

Timpani's eyes filled with tears as he spoke, but she smiled and laughed, "You…just won't give up, will you?" she shook her head, "Of all the crazy…stubborn…foolish men…"

Blumiere felt as if he might go insane from how fast his heart was racing, awaiting an answer, "Timpani, answer me, please!" He pleaded.

"Blumiere, I love you." Timpani said, firm in her words, "Take me away…Take me to a world where we can be happy."

Blumiere was overcome with joy. He laughed, he kissed Timpani, he picked her up and spun her around. Timpani laughed and kissed him in return. Once he sat her back down on her own feet and nuzzled his forehead to hers, "My lady," he whispered, "I promise you...I will find us a home. I will find us a world all our own."

It'd been much harder to find the princess after King Thornious had spoken to them. And Dimentio had tried. He knew all the secret spots his princess would occupy, and yet each time he came to find her, she was absent. Even the staff, which had been warm and welcoming of the charming magician, were suddenly unwilling to aid him. And if the staff was unwilling to aid him, he couldn't imagine the isolation his beloved felt.

In that time, Lodur had done his best to take up all of Dimentio's time and energy. When they weren't putting the final touches on the pixl, Lodur was teaching Dimentio all manners of lost magic. Duplication, Flight, Dimensional Distortion, all complex and old magic skills that used to get magicians killed. Most of the magic his father taught him were, thankfully, extremely similar to the skills he'd taught himself to slip through crowds and pockets. A bit of magic, a bit of skill, and all for him.

"I fear we may need this knowledge sooner rather than later." Lodur said when Dimentio had finally mastered levitation.

"What about those spells?" Dimentio eyed the book his father always kept, but never opened.

"Far beyond our years." Lodur shook his head, "Magic locked away by the rulers of life and death. Do not ever attempt or you will find there are…conditions. That is why we must adapt and adjust our magic to create pixls." And the moment his father brought up the magical creatures, Dimentio tuned him back out, only hoping to use his new skills to finally see his princess.

Dimentio only thought about how grateful he was for a way to sneak off without even stepping foot out of the room. No guard or king could stop him. Dimensional Distortion was too risky, but levitation was exceptionally easy as he perched on the window sill of his living quarters. He'd waited until the grinning moon was high in the night sky before he took the first step off the ledge.

Sticking to the shadows, Dimentio climbed his way up the exterior of the castle until he found the window he was looking for. He knew it well, even if he was on the other side of it. He gently pressed on the glass but grew frustrated when he realized the glass would swing outwards and not in. Then, he pressed his face closer to the glass to see if Acrocantheia was even inside. She was, and her back was to the window. She was in bed, completely unaware he was there. Dimentio quickly turned a hand and rapped on the glass with two knuckles.

Acrocantheia sat up, pulling her bed sheets with her. She squinted curiously at the window, but when she saw it was him she all but flung herself off her bed. Dimentio floated back just in time to avoid being hit by the window.

"Dimentio —!" She shouted her eyes were filled with shock and amusement upon seeing him suspended in the air.

"Shh," Dimentio gently shushed her as he floated back over to her window.

"How are you — magician, right," Acrocantheia answered her own question. Then she reached up and cupped his cheek, "Are you alright?"

Dimentio leaned to her touch, "I am well now that I have seen you, darling."

Acrocantheia's smile wavered, and she shook her head, "I do not want this life for us." Her heart-stopping violet eyes seemed to stare straight through him to his soul. "Banished from the other's company, sneaking around."

"What if we left?" Dimentio asked. It was impulsive. It was dangerous. He was in love.

"Left?" Acrocantheia asked.

"We could do it," Dimentio held her hands as he began to pull away from the window, Acrocantheia stepped as far as she could and let him hold her hands at arms length, "You and I, on our own in the world. We could make it."

"But what of your father and my duty to my kingdom?" Acrocantheia asked.

"My father is a master magician, he will be fine." Dimentio floated back closer. He tucked her loose curls back from her shoulders. "And your father would have you commit to your duty, even if it was not what your heart wanted…what does your heart want, princess?" He as he spoke his hand trailed down to cup her chin and his gloved thumb brushed over her bottom lip.

Acrocantheia reached up to grab his wrist, her fingers pressed to his heartbeat. "You…" She whispered.

"Ahahaha," He laughed, excitement bubbling out of him, "Then let's run away together." Dimentio urged her again, "You and I, away, free." He promised.

"It's completely mad," She whispered, but she smiled and turned back to her room. Dimentio turned and sat on the windowsill while she got ready. After she had dressed herself for an escape, Dimentio helped her up onto her windowsill.

Hearts pounding with excitement and a tiny touch of fear, Dimentio scooped his princess off her feet and flew them down to the castle wall. Giggling quietly, the pair silently surveyed the world before them. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't perfect, but it was theirs.

"I'll make sure the coast is clear." Dimentio whispered, the last thing they needed was to both be caught at the finish line.

Dimentio jumped down and landed silently on the other side of the castle wall, after he made sure the coast was clear, he turned back around and held his arms up. His heart was pounding with excitement and a twinge of fear.

Acrocantheia slipped over the wall and fell into his arms, she scanned the area and held onto his arms tightly. "I cannot believe we're doing this." She whispered, her voice shaking.

"What else would you have me do, sweetheart?" Dimentio whispered back, he reached up and pulled her hood up over her long curls. He turned, though he kept a firm grip on her hand as he began to lead her away from the castle. "Your father forbid us from seeing each other."

Acrocantheia had a slight skip in her step to keep up with him, "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere." Dimentio shook his head, "Anywhere far from here."

Dear reader, with our story over halfway done, I hope you have started to put the puzzle pieces of our tale together. And while it may seem like our pair of lovers will find their happily ever after, I do want to remind you, dear reader, that at the beginning of our sad tale I warned you that love can be painful and that love can destroy worlds. Dearest reader, that has never been more true than now as we reach our climate and approach our falling action. But, dear reader, you must — I insist, I implore you, I beg of you — you must read on.

Chapter Text

Midnight in the coastal village offered Timpani and Blumiere a level of security they didn't often have. As a last goodbye, Timpani walked Blumiere around the village she'd grown up in, pointing out the places from her many stories. It was both a grand tour, and a goodbye.

The old apothecary where her mother had grown up and worked in. The old sign still had her signature on it, and Blumiere had bowed his head in respect to the woman who was long gone.

The docks where her father toiled away in the sun. Timpani shared what each ship did, how each one was different, and the kinds of work each required.

The school house where she learned basic arithmetic's, language, and history. Timpani had once told him of a boy that had taken advantage of her kindness and humiliated her in front of the whole class. Blumiere had sworn at the time that if he ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with the miserable young man that he would make him pay for upsetting her. Timpani had just laughed at him.

She showed him the temple where her parents had been married.

Blumiere lingered there and stared at the beautiful colored glass in the tall windows of the singular structure. While the rest of the village was made of wood and stone, the temple seemed to be made of something else entirely, something that seemed to glow under the twinkle of the stars.

"You should see it in the daylight." Timpani whispered. She'd been whispering their whole trip, not daring to raise her voice in case anyone happened to wake.

"It must be beautiful." Blumiere could almost imagine the place filled with lovers and beloveds. A celebration of love and togetherness.

"Here," Timpani pulled him inside and Blumiere was surprised to see how sparse it was. A few rows of seats, a podium at the front of the room, and unlit torches on the walls. Even inside, the colored glass was stunning, but it was the night sky's illumination behind them that took Blumiere's breath away. Like watercolor spilled on a lavender field, the colored glass consumed the whole length of the single room temple.

"There haven't been many weddings recently," Timpani whispered as Blumiere spun in circles in the colored moonlight. "Not that I mind much what the villagers do." She looked around the room as if willing herself to see the ghosts from an older life.

Blumiere took her hands in his, "If I could…"

Timpani smiled and shook her head, "I wouldn't." She answered his unspoken suggestion. "I want to know we're safe, first." And, with a bit of reluctance on both parts, she pulled them away from the temple.

Back in the village, Timpani pointed out the houses of the many folks from her stories. The couple who had checked in on Timpani after her parents passed away, the single father with two young children, the young woman who painted beautiful masterpieces, and the school teacher who'd been around since her own parents were children.

Blumiere's head was spinning by the time they'd collapsed in Timpani's garden.

It was a clear night. The sky was illuminated by a million stars, and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees reassured Blumiere that he hadn't been completely consumed by the garden beneath him.

They were leaving in the early morning, but Blumiere couldn't bring himself to return home for one last goodbye. Not that his father would ever accept his departure, but it was more of a personal goodbye for him. A goodbye to his childhood home, to the omnipresent fate that had awaited him before. He knew he should return home to dismiss any suspicions of their plan, but the young woman beside him kept him firmly in his place. Blumiere could watch her for hours.

She'd been quietly smiling, tracing small shapes on his hand with her fingers since the sun had set hours ago. Her hair twinkled under the stars, and she looked positively ethereal.

He couldn't believe how lucky he had been. His life, saved again and again by the woman beside him. And now, she was willing to leave her life — her whole life — behind to run away with him. He had a vague idea of where they'd go, but the further away from his father and his tribe, the better. He knew of a warring kingdom on the other side of the ocean, so he'd made plans to sail the coast until they found a village much like this one. It had been Timpani's only request.

"A place near the ocean."

And Blumiere would have bent over backwards to accommodate her.

Timpani looked back at him, "What?" She asked in that pure natured way she spoke.

Caught staring, Blumiere cleared his throat and looked back at the sky, "Look, Timpani. The stars are beautiful aren't they?"

Timpani giggled and looked up at the sky, "There's a tradition in the village." Blumiere hummed curiously, he loved learning about human traditions. "We believe that wishes on stars come true."

"Oh? Is that so?" Blumiere tilted his head curiously. It made no sense to him, then again, he came from a world where magic was inherited, magic thrived, so there was no need for wishes. Why wish for something when you could simply make it so? Of course, there were limitations…

Blumiere thought about what kind of wish a star could grant, "In that case we'd better get wishing, don't you think?" He asked.

Timpani shook her head with a smile, "I don't need to wish anymore."

Blumiere hummed curiously again. Human traditions confused him.

"I already got my wish." Timpani said and she squeezed his hand, "Now…I have everything I need right here."

"Timpani…" Blumiere's heart quickened. The wind picked up and Timpani instinctively huddled closer to him, "Are you cold?" he asked, concerned. The last thing they needed was her falling ill on the eve of their elopement.

"Not at all." Timpani reassured him and shook her head. "I'm very warm." She looked at him with love in her eyes, "I know you must return home soon, but…could we stay like this?" She asked, "Just a little longer?"

"Of course, my love." Blumiere promised.

It had taken them several long days, and restless nights, but they came across a remote village by a lake and found an abandoned cottage in the woods. Far from the luxurious world they'd left behind, it was hard work getting it to a stable, livable condition. But it was work they were both willing to put in. Though Dimentio knew the princess's stubborn nature would push her to do anything, he was still surprised whenever she threw herself elbows deep into the work. And she hardly complained, except for the normal pains of exhaustion after a hard days work. She was constantly surprising him. Books and covers and all that.

Dimentio's magic helped speed things along, but they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves, so he only used it when absolutely necessary. They mostly kept to their secret little cottage, wrapped up in their own secret little world, and only ventured out to the village for the necessities.

Acrocantheia had wanted to seal away her royal gown, but to avoid mingling too much with the local seamstresses, she opted to put her needlework to good use. She cut down the lace and trimmings on her gown until she was left with a more modest dress. The frills and trimmings she used to dress up the little cottage. Curtains here, bedding there. It added a homey touch. It made the place theirs.

Dimentio used his skills as a performer and a pickpocket to earn whatever else they needed, food, furniture, beddings, money. All of that would become part of their security, their sanctuary.

It'd only taken them a week to settle in, and already the place felt more like home than the rest of the world ever had.

One warm night, the pair laid entangled on their bed, breathing deeply and contentedly. A summer breeze drifted into the small cottage and swayed the sheer curtains.

Dimentio was already half asleep, absentmindedly running his hands through Acrocantheia's curls when she stirred beside him. "Dimentio?" She whispered. Dimentio hummed in response. "Are you happy?" That woke him up.

Dimentio turned his head to face her, "What?"

"I just mean…you did leave your father behind…and my father hadn't exactly been subtle in his threats to him." Acrocantheia traced an invisible line on his chest, "Or to you." She added.

"My darling," Dimentio rolled over so he could fully embrace her, "my father is a master magician," he reassured her once more, "he knows when to fight and when to retreat."

"But aren't you worried?" Acrocantheia asked.

"Hardly." Dimentio answered honestly. He cleared his throat, "that is to say, my concerns lie with you. My father can take care of himself, and he raised me to take care of myself. But I worry about you…do you…regret this?"

"No! Not at all." Acrocantheia insisted, "although I do miss my mother, I wouldn't trade what we have here for the world." Dimentio had only met the queen a handful of times in his year-long stay at the castle. She'd seemed lovely, and it was obvious she was where Acrocantheia had gotten her beauty from, but she was even more isolated than her daughter.

"So," Dimentio squeezed Acrocantheia's hand, "that is that then. We shall not worry ourselves with what we have left behind. Like caged songbirds, we are finally free. We shall only think about what comes next." That seemed to settle Acrocantheia's nerves for she snuggled up closer to his side. Dimentio tightened his grip on her.

His mind continued to race.

His father was fine, he was sure of it, but could they stay here forever? Would they truly be free staying here? He couldn't imagine King Thornious just up and accepting his daughter had run off with him, the fool, the jester. He smirked to himself imagining the stages of rage the king must've gone through.

Served him right.

"Your heart is racing." Acrocantheia's voice startled him from his thoughts.

"You should be asleep, darling." Dimentio retorted, turning his head to lay a kiss to her forehead.

Acrocantheia inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Her breath tickled his neck. She rolled and sat up on her elbows. Dimentio looked up at her expectantly.

Her brows were furrowed, "What's so funny?"

Dimentio snickered and shook his head, "I was imagining how furious your father must've been when he discovered our absence."

Acrocantheia rolled her eyes, "You find it humorous, I find it terrifying."

"Terrifying? Darling, he cannot reach us here." Dimentio reassured her, but even as the words left his lips he knew he was lying. They were still within the boundaries of the kingdom, and the king's word was law. At any moment their sanctuary could be ruined, they could be found, caught, and worse still, separated. Permanently.

He smiled, trying to keep his expression neutral, calm, and he promised her, "Your father will never be able to separate us again. If I have to find a million new worlds for us to run to, a million new dimensions — even if I have to create one of my own, I will keep us safe."

"Dimentio…"

"Why," Suddenly feeling a buzz of magic under his skin, he sat up, Acrocantheia followed him, "Why I could start on it now."

"Dimentio…start what?" Acrocantheia asked, confused.

"Magic, darling!" Dimentio grabbed her hands as he practically leapt out of bed. He pulled her with him and spun her into a waltz, "I could do it! I could create us a world! A world meant just for us! A world where your father could never find us!" Acrocantheia chuckled as he pulled her in circles around their home. "A perfect world."

"You could…a perfect world?" She asked.

"Yes, sweetheart," Dimentio pulled his beloved closer, "it is an old magic, but I could do it." He nodded, "I'll start on it at once—,"

Acrocantheia laughed, "Dimentio…" Dimentio blinked as he realized he'd begun to float on the ecstasy of the idea.

"Ahahaha, sorry, darling." Dimentio landed back on the floor, but the smile on his face remained.

Acrocantheia cupped his cheek and ran her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. "How about…you start on it tomorrow?" She suggested, "It's late."

Dimentio chuckled again, "Of course, my love."

Chapter Text

Blumiere's face scrunched up as dappled light flashed in his face. He stretched and yawned, his body stiff from sleeping on the ground. With a start, Blumiere jolted upright. "Timpani?" Her name came from him like a whispered prayer.

The sun was already high in the sky, they'd missed their early departure!

Then, Blumiere smelled smoke. He scrambled to his feet, "Timpani?" He called. His heart began to race as he bolted to the back door of her cottage and fumbled with the door handle. Blumiere broke through and saw the cottage was empty. Timpani was nowhere to be seen.

And beyond the window, where Blumiere had spent an evening a year ago recovering from his fall, was a wall of flames.

The entire seaside village was in flames!

"Timpani!" Blumiere let out a guttural scream. He tore through the front door and ran to the village. His feet pounded on the sand and dirt path that led down to the village, the path Timpani had led him down just a few hours ago. The grass that had tickled their knees was now trampled and singed black.

The apothecary's sign was burnt to a crisp and in two pieces in the road. Her mother's name aglow with lingering embers.

The docks were shattered and splintered, the boats half sunken off the shore and burning on the unusually calm ocean.

The more he ran, the hotter the flames became. The more his heart raced, the more his eyes watered. "Timpani!" Blumiere called. The smoke burned his lungs, parts of the town were completely inaccessible to him due to the flames.

He ran past the school house, to the temple which had collapsed inward on itself from the flames. "No…no, no!" Blumiere shouted. The colored glass had been shattered, turned to dust that had been burnt or swept away by the stinging wind. He backed away from the temple and turned to face the village. Bodies laid in the streets, bodies he hadn't registered before — the old couple, the father and his two children, the ancient school teacher. Burnt…brutalized…beyond recognition. Bodies of the people Timpani had known and loved, bodies of the people that had known and loved Timpani.

Blumiere began to hyperventilate.

Where was Timpani?

Where was his heart?

He looked back across the bay at Timpani's cottage and spotted him.

His father.

Standing tall in front of her cottage as if it belonged to him. Standing proudly, like he'd done something to be proud of.

Blumiere wasn't sure whether to run back and scream at him, or walk back calmly to show his father no longer had any power over him. He'd gotten about halfway back to Timpani's cottage before he couldn't take it anymore. He ran, his legs pounding with fear and hatred and rage and misery.

"Blumiere." His father greeted in his gravelly voice. The Count stood tall, dressed in his most royal regalia. He lazily held his jeweled cane in one hand, as if he'd simply been out for a stroll and not eradicating an entire village while his son slept unaware. Strangely enough, the Dark Prognosticus was not with him, though Blumiere had no feelings here or there for whether the book was presently pestering his father.

Blumiere ignored his father and pushed past him into Timpani's house, perhaps his father had simply hidden her from him with his magic. "Timpani!" He shouted. "Timpani!" He heard his father enter the cottage behind him. Blumiere whipped around, glaring at his father with as much hatred and rage he could muster, "What did you do with her!? I must see her!" He demanded. He would leave. He would find her and leave and he would tell his father everything, every bit of resentment he'd held on to, every bit of hatred and disgust for him that remained in his heart.

His father snarled, "Still your tongue, Blumiere! Can't you see you've been duped by a dirty human?" He gestured to the empty cottage. Blumiere's chest seized with an untamable wrath at the way he described Timpani. "You have brought shame to my name and to the entire Tribe of Darkness!" He spread his arms wide as if to encompass everything.

"And so what if I did?!" Blumiere challenged him, if Timpani was 'dirty' then that meant his own heart was 'dirty', for she was his heart. "That doesn't matter to me!" He gestured to himself, pointing both of his hands to his heart. "She's my entire world!" Blumiere threw his arms out to encompass everything. His father didn't — wouldn't ever understand! He had never loved and been loved as deeply as Blumiere had loved and been loved by Timpani.

Blumiere isn't sure what angered him more, his father's blasé reaction to his pain and anger, or the fact that the Count actually began to crack and smile and laugh.

With a raspy chuckle his father said, "Well," He cleared his throat, "then it will interest you to know…" He inspected the cerulean jewel on the tip of his cane, "that she no longer resides in this world." He glared up at Blumiere from under the brim of his hat.

"What…" Blumiere's heart came to a stop, "what do you mean by that!?" He shouted.

His father looked on his temper with disinterest, as if Blumiere had simply tracked mud into the castle, "This is the price those who resist their own fate must pay, my son."

Blumiere staggered and collapsed onto the bed, "She…" He gasped, his throat closing up, "no…it can't be so!" He shook his head and grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

The Count laid a hand on his son's shoulder, "Someday you will see, son. Our kind and humans must never mix."

Blumiere glared up at his father. The absence of the Dark Prognosticus over his father's shoulder buzzed in his mind until it physically pained him. "You will see, father, that you have made an enemy of me today." He stood up and threw his father's hand off him.

"Blumiere?" The Count watched him storm out the garden door.

Blumiere ignored him as he ran back up the mountain.

"Blumiere!" His father shouted after him.

Dimentio had always enjoyed an audience, though with this particular kind of magic it was safer without so many eyes on him. The meadow on the other side of the forest that protected their home was the perfect space for him to flex his magical prowess. He needed the space, just in case. Even Acrocantheia had kept her distance today, citing a need to tidy up a few things in their home. All the better, since Dimentio had had little luck so far in even teleporting.

"How am I meant to create a new world if I cannot even traverse this one?" He cursed to himself. If only his father could have been there to guide him…Dimentio shook his head, now was no time to second guess himself and his abilities. His father had given him all the tools necessary to do this, he knew this to be true, otherwise why would his father have let him simply go?

No, he could do this. He had to do this. For his princess, for their safety.

Dimentio toiled away, stretching his magic thin and forcing it to bend to his will. He would succeed. He'd promised.

It was late in the day when the first glimmer of hope arrived. Dimentio had mastered teleportation and was just starting to poke his magic through the boundaries between dimensions when the world seemed to shift.

It was as if he was suddenly aware of the silence around him. Not even the wind whispered.

It was eerily quiet.

Dimentio turned back in the direction of his new home. Surely Acrocantheia would have called if something was wrong…right? A cold chill dripped down Dimentio's back.

He began to run.

She would have called. Shouted. Screamed! Something — Anything!

…

Right?

His heart calmed when he saw the house was still standing. It hadn't been burnt to the ground or destroyed in a rage.

"Acro?" He called as he ran up to the house. He jerked open the back door and looked around the inside. It was tidy, neat. Acrocantheia had done a wonderful job cleaning up.

He could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

It was still too quiet.

"Acro?" He stepped further in.

The front door was ajar. Hardly noticeable until he'd heard the hinge squeak. It swayed back and forth, barely opening and hardly closing in the wind.

Then the smell hit him. A rotting stench of iron.

Dimentio walked through the house and came to a stop when he saw the body on the floor. For a moment, Dimentio felt frozen, not in fear but in thought. His mind raced a million miles a second. They were laying on their side, their back to him, one arm stretched under their head, the other flung in front of them. There was no visible blood, but the stench only grew stronger the longer Dimentio stood there.

It wasn't Acrocantheia on the floor, so who was this and where was Acrocantheia? The front door had been left ajar, was that by her? Or had someone else been here? Had Acrocantheia done this or was she a victim as well?

For what felt like hours, but must've only been seconds, Dimentio stood frozen. Then, he moved. He crept forward, slinking like a cat, trying to discern who was lying dead on the floor. He'd gotten good at hiding his expressions, but his eyes still widened as he came around the figure and saw the pale, hollow face of his father. There was a dried bloodstain on his chest, his mismatched eyes were wide in shock. He'd been dead a while, and caught off guard by his own death. Tears were frozen in his eyes. Dimentio's mouth went dry as he processed what he was seeing. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and then he knelt down.

His father's body was cold and stiff. Without thinking, Dimentio hoisted him up in his arms and carried him over to the table. He was careful as he laid him on his back and gently closed his eyes. He reached down and felt his father's palm. No magic.

He hadn't even been able to defend himself.

Unable to help himself, Dimentio chuckled. Then he laughed. And when he threw his head back to gasp for air he wasn't sure if he was crying from grief or the desperation that seized him. He collapsed onto his knees and buried his face in his hands.

Chapter Text

If it were possible, Blumiere would have ripped the door off its hinges. The buzzing of the Dark Prognosticus had only gotten stronger the higher he climbed the mountain, the closer he stormed to the inner sanctum of his tribe’s castle. 

The entire time his father chased him, calling to him, but Blumiere ignored him.

Blumiere threw open the doors to his father’s inner sanctum, the most precious, hallowed, protected spot in the whole tribe. 

The magic from the Dark Prognosticus was nauseating here and Blumiere had to catch himself on the door frame to keep from collapsing. Half of his vision went fuzzy with static as prophetic visions swam before him.

He groaned and pushed himself forward. The book beckoned him, called to him, it no longer needed his father.

“Blumiere, my son, don’t!” The Count wheezed as he collapsed on the floor behind him.

Blumiere’s hands tingled as he attempted to grab the Dark Prognosticus from its pedestal. The closer he drew, the louder it became. Its whispers became more incessant, more agonizing, more scathing. The buzzing and power around it stung his skin, it was testing him.

“Even your ancestors could not handle that dark book! Blumiere!” His father shouted as he dragged himself into the chamber on his knees. “If you open it…there’s no telling what might happen!”

“I do not care, father!” Blumiere turned around, a wave of energy from the Dark Prognosticus shooting out from his hand and knocking his father back down. “A world without her is empty! A LIFE without her is empty!” He shouted, tears burning his eyes. Blumiere turned back and broke through the barrier around the book, “Speak, Dark Prognosticus!” He flung the book open and the pages rapidly flipped on their own, “Teach me your dark history! I await your command!”

A burst of energy shot out of the book and into his chest, Blumiere doubled over and began to cough. 

“Blumiere!” He heard the distant shout of his father. He was blinded by a thousand visions, a thousand life strands, a thousand fates. Life, death, rebirth, love, hate, he saw it all, he felt it all. Knowledge long forbidden flooded his mind, magic long dormant electrocuted his blood, his body, his soul. He could feel the universe within his ribs as his body shifted and rearranged itself to better accommodate the ancient tomb and its powers.

Blumiere continued to cough, and the more he coughed, the drier his throat became, until eventually he was wheezing out every chuckle, “BLEH HEH HEH! BLECK!” The name spilled out of him like vomit.

His father panted heavily in pain as he pushed himself up, “Blumiere…” He groaned, “What have you done?” He whispered in disbelief.

“Silence!” His voice was hoarse, “The first prophecy beckons.” He whispered as he trailed a hand down the spine of the Dark Prognosticus, “I will erase every inch…” His hand curled into a fist, “of this blasted world!” Spit flew from his cracked lips.

“Blu-Blumiere! Don’t do this!” His father pleaded. “Blumiere!” He drew closer to his son.

“Blumiere is no more!” He easily tossed his father back to the floor. He slowly walked over to his father and held out a hand. His father’s cane shivered on the ground before whizzing upwards into his hand. “I am Count Bleck! And no one shall stand in my way! BLEH HEH HEH! BLECK!”

With a snap of his fingers the door was encased in shimmering magic, it glistened for a moment before it imploded and set off an explosion. The splinters and debris circled around him as he floated effortlessly into the castle.

Guards circled him, but they were disposed of swiftly and mercilessly.

“I knew you were a fool,” King Thornious’s voice broke through the calm rage Dimentio had carried with him. Dimentio turned and glared up at Thornious from his high balcony. “But you are truly an idiot for returning here.” The king stared down at him as if he were a fly in his soup.

Dimentio kept his glare even and his voice steady as he demanded to know, “Where is Acro?”

“The princess,” Thornious snarled, his lips curling up to reveal silver tipped fangs, “is far beyond your reach now, jester.” Dimentio didn’t react outwardly.

“It is a shame,” The king began to walk down the grand staircase, “As sole heir to this kingdom, she was all that stood between prosperity and ruin.”

Dimentio’s hands twitched by his side, “What did you do with her?” He asked, his voice low.

Thornious paused just before reaching the final step, “It breaks a fathers heart to see their child stray so far.”

Lodur…

Dimentio would not allow himself to be baited. He silently watched as the king looked on sadly at the dead guards around the magician, “And mine breaks further for the sins I’ve had to commit to ensure my daughter can no longer be tempted by your ilk.” 

Dimentio felt his magic burning his hands, “What have you done?” He asked again, his voice dangerously low.

Thornious just stared back, a dark glint in his eye, “I think you know.”

Dimentio’s nose twitched up in an attempt to keep his mouth and eyes neutral. “Then it is you who is the fool.” 

Magic might’ve been the merciful way to kill an enemy, but Dimentio wasn’t feeling particularly merciful today. Although Thornious had been the warrior king, it didn’t take much for Dimentio to outwit and overwhelm him. It helped that Dimentio had a kind of grace to his movements that came from his love to perform. It was still an evenly matched battle, with both King and Fool taking and dealing blows.

The king fell to his knees and looked up at Dimentio with no regret, “And what will you do now?” He demanded of the fool.

Dimentio tilted his head and answered in a flat voice, “That is no longer your concern…ciao.” And it was only then that he chose to swiftly end the king’s game.

With every inhabitant in the castle dead, Dimentio scoured the castle high and low, looking in all the hiding places his princess might be in. 

He lingered in the living quarters he had shared with his father and only took with him the ancient magical texts his father had been so protective of. 

When he reached the dungeon, the stench of death gave him pause. Still, Dimentio would never allow himself to leave without seeing for himself what had happened to his beloved.

When he found what remained of her he was grateful for his father’s warning, “Magic locked away by the rulers of life and death…there are conditions.” He didn’t care what the conditions were.

He would follow his princess anywhere, even into death, and he would bring her back.

And now, dear reader, we have reached the beginning of our tale, our tale that started so long ago and started with an escape. We have seen the purest of love, the most spontaneous love, a freeing love, and a stealing love. And though it seems like the end, there is yet more to this love story. For every story needs an end. A happy end. A tragic end. But a fitting end, nonetheless. So, I beg you reader, read on…

Chapter Text

Count Bleck eyed the jester curiously. The Dark Prognosticus had not yet failed him, and yet, it had failed to mention that a fool would come and willingly submit themselves — and their companion — to his services. His plan was nearly ready to be put into motion, he didn't need any other minions to do his bidding. Something about the pair put him off, and Count Bleck had seen enough bloodshed, death, darkness, and chaos in his life to last him twenty lifetimes.

"Count Bleck has no need for magicians or…" He eyes the woman once more. "Guests." There wasn't much remarkable about the woman, save for the fact she never blinked and did not speak. The Dark Prognosticus buzzed behind him, but he paid it no mind. He'd gotten very good at ignoring it in the seven years he'd been its wielder.

The mask on the jester remained a smile, though it took a few seconds to respond, "Very well, my Count." He bowed — mockingly low Count Bleck noted with a tightened grip on his cane — and the bells on the end of his purple and yellow cap jingled. The woman did not move. When the jester stood back up, he lifted himself into a hover and took one of the sewn hands of the woman beside him, "If you do ever find yourself in need of our services…well…I suppose you will just have to find us." He laughed, "Ahaha Ciao!" And he turned and whispered something to the woman. The woman was slow to react, she looked down at their hands, then up at the jester's mask.

With that, Count Bleck watched the jester guide the woman out beside him.

He put off addressing the book for as long as he possibly could, but its magic began to creep into the edges of his vision. It wanted him. It needed him. He looked over at the Dark Prognosticus. It continued to whisper to him, growing more aggressive each passing moment until the words became a mindless buzz in his skull. Groaning in pain, he dragged himself over to the cursed book. "Show me, book." He ordered. "Show me what it is you're so incessant about, order Count Bleck." He spat.

Obediently, the book ripped itself open, flipping through pages as if it couldn't do so fast enough. Count Bleck watched on lazily as the pages slowed and stopped on a truly bizarre image. Each new follower came with a prophecy, a photo. Not all of them had been clear, but with his knowledge of the dark book, it had been easy to track down and find his champions. The war general, the shapeshifter, they weren't much when he'd first found them, but he had made them into great champions capable of carrying out his plans to destroy every dimension.

But this?

This image?

It was of a groom and bride, surrounded by the dead, though, upon closer inspection, he saw that the bride herself was also dead. The groom had magic around his head in an almost halo-like array, while the woman wielded a pair of axes.

It was the most twisted image the book had shown him, and for a moment he felt rage in his heart. How dare the book show him this? Was this his fate? Was the book taunting him?! His lips pulled back in a silent snarl and he grabbed both covers of the book. He fully intended on slamming it shut until the words on the opposite page illuminated themselves with black flame. Grunting, Count Bleck tore his eyes away from the portrait and listened to the book.

"A magician will offer himself to the service of the Count," he read to himself, "A master of dimensions and a master of weaponry. He and his shayde bride will be the final champions to herald the end of all worlds." He blinked.

Then he blinked again.

The jester…and the shayde? A spirit of death?

He read further, "masters of death and lo—" Count Bleck's eyes had barely read the four letter word when he forced the book shut. "Silence!" He ordered the book through gritted teeth. The book, though, was satisfied it had gotten its message across, and its hum in his head lessened.

Count Bleck turned and stalked back through the castle, "Nastasia?"

"Sir?" She was never too far away.

"Where is the jester now?" He asked.

"The uhm, the jester, sir?" Nastasia asked.

"Yes! The jester and that," He waved his hand as he struggled to describe the woman that had been with him. Was it true? Was she a shayde come back to life? It was impossible…wasn't it…

Could the dead be brought back? "Shayde." He finally spat out.

Nastasia looked at him confused, but nodded, "I'll, uhm…I'll check on that right now, m'kay?" And then she was gone.

Count Bleck clutched at his heart. Could it be true? Could the jester have mastered death? Was it possible to bring a lover back to life? "Timpani…" He whispered, an ache filling the void in his chest. He grimaced in pain.

"No." He shook his head, "It isn't possible."

"Oy! Mimi!" O'Chunks nodded for Mimi to join him, Mr. L, and Nastasia. Mimi raised an eyebrow but obliged and joined the other minions.

"Yeah?" Mimi asked, shifting her weight to one hip. She didn't mind a little bit of office goss, but like, she had things to do. Really important things. Like polishing her rubees, and scrolling her phone for cuties.

Important things.

"You think it's weird how the clown never goes anywhere without ms. whacky arms?" Mr. L asked, deadpanned.

Mimi pursed her lips, "She's weird. They're both weird." She curled her lip up in disgust.

"Mhm, but what we're, uhm, saying is…" Nastasia, ever the mindful one, thought over her words carefully.

O'Chunks, however, did not, "Ain' it weird tha' she don't ever say nuthin' to us, but teh Count keeps 'er on?"

"English?" Mimi asked, crossing her arms.

"Innit weird that Acro's a freaking corpse?" Mr. L translated.

"Oh, absolutely." Mimi nodded her head in agreement.

Nastasia sighed, "Look," she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Yes, we all don't like Dimentio," they all grumbled in agreement, "But Acro is a fine weapons master, and they're, like, a package deal."

"Package deal," Mr. L huffed as he crossed his arms, "She's a corpse, Nastasia. She should be packaged six feet under."

"Nice one," O'Chunks chuckled.

"Thanks, beefcake," Mr. L patted his arm.

"Look, if Dim-wit wants to lug around literal dead weight," Mimi said, "That's on him. This mission," she pointed to the floor, "Will be the make-or-break for ms. 'weapons master'."

"My money's on break." Mr. L deadpanned, "That thing can't even blink, what makes Dimentio think she'll be able to fight?"

"Look," Nastasia's voice was firm, "The Count says she belongs, she's important to our mission, and what the Count says goes, mkay?" The other minions grumbled their reluctant agreements.

"Boy," Bowser complained, "What a pair of freaks." He shuddered as the jester and the shayde left.

"But did you see her eyes?" Princess Peach asked with a hint of sadness.

"I saw it too," Tippi said, she fluttered over to rest of Mario's cap.

"What, you mean those unblinking freaky things in her skull?" Bowser asked, but Princess Peach was looking at Mario intently.

Mario was deep in thought. They'd seen and fought Dimentio a fair few times now, and the woman — Acro as they came to find out her name — had never been much of a threat before now. Sure, she was always with him, but she'd never engaged with them — heck, Mario wasn't even sure she'd spoken a single word to them! But they'd just fought her…twice…and she was a dangerous foe, especially with Dimentio by her side.

The first time was back at the Gap of Crag, she hadn't been too powerful, nothing they couldn't handle, but she wielded her axes with reckless abandon, and with her fabricated arms, she'd had quite a bit of reach on her. Even Bowser's fire breath had a hard time getting close enough to cause damage.

But the second time, the second time was different. Dimentio had said something about a fix, a cure. He'd sounded…desperate?

And Acro had been a much tougher foe, not only did it take way more hits to knock her down — Mario realized that in both fights Dimentio did not let them actually defeat her…how odd… — but she moved faster, and by the end there was…something.

Mario looked at Peach and nodded.

"I knew it," She pounded one fist into the palm of her other hand, "Something happened. Something changed."

"What happened?" Bowser asked.

Mario frowned. Acro somehow seemed more…alive, and more…sad after their fight.

"What's changed?" Bowser wanted to know.

Mario just sighed and rolled his eyes. He looked up at the sky over Flipside, the Void was growing bigger. They needed to find the next Pure Heart pillar.

Chapter Text

Acro blinked upon the appearance of the Count, Nastasia, and Tippi. She ceased her fiddling with the stitches on her chest and turned to face them fully. Nastasia was collapsed in a pile on the floor, and the Count was in no better shape, but he was at least able to stand.

"You…" Tippi said.

Acro quickly glided over and knelt down beside Nastasia. She reached out with a fabric hand and brushed the assistant's magenta hair back from her face. She felt a tight pain in her chest, though the emotions didn't reach her face.

"You're why Dimentio is doing all of this." Tippi said and Acro slowly looked up at her at the mention of the magician's name. Her voice wasn't laced in anger, she sounded…sad…understanding.

Acro looked back down at Nastasia, ashamed.

"Acro..?" The Count's voice was hoarse. Acro didn't look up at him. "You did not come back as intended…did you?" Acro curled herself away from him, as if to shield herself from a blow.

"But…he loves her…why would he destroy all worlds?" Tippi asked. Another pain hit her in the chest. Why did she feel so much pain in here?

"Count Bleck has suspicions…" Count Bleck said, "Because you came back empty." Acro closed her eyes. If she could have cried, she would have then. "Because even though Dimentio forced you from death, it was not — he was not powerful enough." Acro wasn't sure if the pain in her chest was real or in her head.

Effortlessly, she pushed herself to stand and face them. She wanted to say something, anything in defense of him, of her…beloved. He was desperate, furious, mad…but, as it had been for the past seven years, she was unable to force her tongue to cooperate. And even if it did, she only remembered half of her story, so much of it was missing, and it was hard to defend that which she did not know...but she could feel it, she could see visions of her past if she really tried. And the thought of the world's ending, all because of Dimentio...

"He wants to be powerful enough to…fix you." Count Bleck's eyes, which were normally aglow with rage and fury, were now cold and sad. "To hide you away in a world where death will not come for you again, mused Count Bleck."

Acro bowed her head.

"It is why Dimentio has hidden you here." Count Bleck sighed with realization. Another stitch of pain in her chest. Acro reached up, and must've been imagining her wound growing smaller.

"Well," Tippi struggled to find the words, "W-we can't just - just stay here! We have to do something! We have to save Mario and the others!"

Count Bleck turned to the pixl, "We cannot. Without the Pure Hearts, there is no way to counter the Chaos heart. All we can do is give up…"

"What are you SAYING?!" Tippi shouted. Acro raised her eyebrows, for a tiny pixl, she sure had a set of lungs. "You promised we would find happiness together!"

Acro winced and raised a hand to her chest. No, no, that was real pain.

"Acro?" The Count turned to his minion, however, Tippi's tirade continued.

"Was that all just a lie?!"

Count Bleck shook his head as he turned back to face Tippi, "It was no lie… But without the Pure Hearts, all worlds are doomed. What can we do?"

Tippi flew over to him and hit him with her wings, "Blumiere! Snap out of it! How can you think it would end here, after all we have suffered without each other?" Count Bleck looked at the small pixl with tears in his eyes. "We found each other again because we stayed alive…how can you admit defeat?! I will not! I will NOT give up! You promised we'd find happiness. You PROMISED!" Another pain shot through Acro's chest and she doubled over.

"Acro!"

Count Bleck and Tippi were shocked to see Mimi and O'Chunks arrive in the dimension. Mimi ran over to Acro and caught her before she could fully collapse. Acro was shocked when she exhaled her first breath in years. The air in her lungs was stale, and she had to consciously inhale and exhale while the muscles in her chest restarted. "Acro…?" Mimi whispered, shocked.

"My minions…how…how did you find us here?" Count Bleck looked between his followers.

"Oh, well, gosh, Count. I could follow your big, ol' smile anywhere." Mimi said with a touch of sarcasm as she helped Acro stand upright.

"Ahh, she lies like a rug, this lass." O'Chunks waved her off, "Nastasia told us, Count! She said you'd come 'ere…or…she said she FELT you'd be 'ere…or…somethin' along those lines."

Count Bleck turned back to his assistant, "Nastasia…" He sighed and pressed his lips into a thin line. Acro let out another gasp of pain as her chest felt tight with life once more, this time, tears did spring to her eyes. She blinked a few times, and though her eyes burned from the wetness, it was a welcomed return of her humanity.

"Talk about goin' the extra mile, though! She even sacrificed 'herself teh save yeh!" O'Chunks sounded impressed. "Lissen, Count, I promised me life as well, an' I'm not afraid teh live up teh it!"

"Yeah!" Mimi said, suddenly filled with rage, "I mean, there is NO way Dimentio's getting away with this! He pulled a really dirty trick on you — on all of us —," Acro exhaled and inhaled sharply as a strong pain hit her square in her chest. "but we'll always stick by your side!" Mimi finished.

Acro swallowed, her throat constricted and her tongue heavy, "This isn't what I wanted." Her voice was barely a whisper from years of disuse, but they all heard her nonetheless.

"Oh-emm-gee!" Mimi squealed.

"Well I'll be…" O'Chunks breathed.

"Acrooooo! You talked!" Mimi squeezed her fellow minion.

Acro, still not used to breathing, gasped for air. Faded memories pounded around her skull, but she pushed them aside. She knew in her heart, this wasn't right. Destroying the worlds, all because of her? That wasn't the jester — no, that wasn't the magician, the performer, the boy she'd fallen in love with. Acro laid a hand on her healed chest.

Love…

She looked back at Count Bleck, "We have to stop him." She said, her voice still quiet.

Count Bleck pulled the brim of his hat down to conceal his face, "My….my loyal minions." He inhaled shakily and when he exhaled, eight broken, dull Pure Hearts eased out of his chest. The five watched in silent awe as the hearts circled above their heads before sending out a blinding flash of light. When the light cleared, all of Count Bleck's wounds were healed and he stood a little taller than before.

He hummed curiously as the Pure Hearts regained their color, "What's this? Pure…Hearts? But why?"

"Isn't it obvious, Blumiere?" Tippi asked. "Pure Hearts at the very feelings of our souls," She flew from his side over to Acro, "As long as we feel love," she flew between Mimi and O'Chunks before returning to Count Bleck's side, "they live on!" She flew to the center of the Pure Hearts, "I will take these to Mario! Take care!"

The explosion wrecked by Super Dimentio rocked the entire Void dimension. The head of the magical, monstrous construct lay on the floor of the inner sanctum of the castle, Severed from its body, it was powerless and defenseless. "How did you do it…?" A blending of Dimentio and Luigi's voices came from the head, "how could I have lost with the power of Luigi and the Chaos Heart? And the prophecy…has it been undone?!"

"I think your prophecy was wrong all along." Peach said matter-of-factly.

"You believed your prophecy, and we believed in mopping the floor with you!" Bowser glared at the giant head.

"Dimentio..?"

The heroes gasped and parted.

Acro cautiously approached the severed head.

"Acro..?" Now it was just Dimentio's voice that came through.

None of the heroes stopped Acro from touching the side of the giant head. "Oh…my poor fool," Acro whispered. She stroked its cheek, "What has become of you?" She asked sadly.

Large tears fell down the head, and Acro was quick to wipe them, "My darling…oh my sweet…" Dimentio's voice was distorted, corrupted. "I did all of this…for you."

"I never need you to," Acro said quietly, "I only ever needed you…Any world, any dimension would have been enough," she rested her forehead on the giant cheek of the head, "with you beside me."

"Acro…" The voice coming from the head was almost completely unrecognizable.

Tippi spoke up, her voice sharp, "Good-bye now, Dimentio. We'll add a footnote to the prophecy about your failure."

The eye of the giant head got wide, "You think this is the end?" It whispered, the blend of voices returned, "This isn't finished…you can't stop this now…you can't…escape…" With a maniacal laugh, the head threw its mouth open wide, "I've been saving one last surprise! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Ciao, my love, and goodbye, heroes of prophecy!" Super Dimentio's head exploded, Luigi collapsed in the blast radius and the Chaos Heart tumbled out of him. The heroes all shielded themselves from the blast, but the explosion seemed to circle around Acro, for she stood completely unscathed when the dust settled.

Luigi slowly picked himself up, yanking a floro sprout from his head as he did. He grimaced and made a sound of disgust as he threw the mind controlling plant away.

Acro turned, ready to grab the fallen Chaos Heart and end this destruction once and for all, when an energy blast pulsed from within it and it vanished. Count Bleck, Mimi, and O'Chunks teleported into the inner sanctum seconds before the castle gave a dangerous shudder.

"So, it seems the end of all worlds is really upon us…" Count Bleck said, surveying the damage in the room.

"Wait, so, defeating Dimentio wasn't enough to stop it?" Peach asked.

Another rumble shook the castle. "I thought," Count Bleck said, holding his arms out to steady himself, "the Chaos Heart would disappear if the person controlling it fell…"

"When Dimentio wants something, he'll stop at nothing to get it." Acro said.

"You can talk?" Luigi asked quietly, aghast.

Acro ignored him, "Even to the detriment of others." Her throat was on fire. She hadn't spoken or breathed this much in so long, it was actually quite painful.

"Putting it kinda lightly, don't you think?" Bowser grumbled.

"Dimentio must have left a shadow of his power behind to continue controlling it." Count Bleck mused. Acro looked around the room, as if she hoped to catch this elusive shadow. "It won't last long," He answered her unasked question, "But, it may be enough to ensure the end of every world."

"Oh, GREAT!" Bowser threw up his arms in frustration, "So, what do we do now?!"

Count Bleck pulled the rim of his hat down once more, thinking, "There is only one thing left that we can do…" And with that, he flung open his cloak. A cosmic rip flew out from under his cloak and smashed into the wall, tracing and building a door that would transport them elsewhere. "This way!" He ushered them all inside.

The worlds had been saved, every dimension was no longer under the threat of being sucked into the Void. Peace had returned, though it hadn't been without sacrifice.

No one knew what became of Lord Blumiere and Timpani. Though in their hearts, the heroes and former minions knew they were, at last, safe and happy in a world just for them.

The heroes returned to their home in the far away dimension of the Mushroom Kingdom, each staying only as long as they could to say goodbye to their enemies turned allies and their allies turned friends.

Count Bleck's former minions all made new lives for themselves, carving out their own perfect worlds without tearing down others. Mimi took on house-keeping as her actual profession, taking care of Merlee's house since she'd moved her more permanent residence to Flipside. Nastasia stayed in Flipside, just on the off chance any path came up that might lead her to wherever the Count had gone…even though she knew she would never be what he wanted. O'Chunks stayed in Flipside as well, offering his strength to whoever needed it…even to certain assistants that had been the former right hand woman to the man bent on destroying all worlds.

And Acro? She returned to the Underwhere, to the field where our story began. And she waits there, whole and full of love, and yet somehow empty and full of longing, as she waits like a fool for her magician to return to her.