Page is a WIP
All around me darkness gathers; fading is the sun that shone.
We must speak of other matters; you can be me when I’m gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning, afternoon they blossom on.
Still are withered in the evening; you can be me when I’m gone.
Legion
ˈlējən
a vast host, multitude, or number of people or things.
great in number.
A man known by many names, seen as many entities, existing in many places.
But also, a man.
Legion does not know when he began. If asked, he could not tell you who (what) he is. Legion is a plaything to the devil. He is an older brother to twin demons. He is an (ex)lover of the god Apep. He is the best friend of Time itself; immortal, to a point. He can die. He just won’t stay dead.
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Where do you begin with a man who has no history? Or, rather, with a man who has no beginning?
Legion was not really… ‘born.’ One could say he was created, but it is more accurate to say he just appeared one day, bursting through the shadows like bats from a cave. He was probably around at the very crest of time, although no one could say for sure – not even himself, as he has no memory of his early life. Sometimes he remembers little things during quiet, lonely nights, like the vast, empty feeling of stillness before there was wind, or the feeling of endless wind before there were trees and land and water to disrupt it. His memories escape him, though. There’s so much to remember when you’re so old.
He knows he had made a home in Hell, before there was a devil. He believes, perhaps wrongly, that Hell once belonged to him, that he created it to live in when there was nowhere else to exist. He had been a ruler, once. A creator of things and places. An amorphous creature with powers beyond comprehension.
But now, he is just a man.
He knows also that he became a favorite toy of Lucifer’s when the angel fell from Heaven and stole Hell from him, guided by the power of a god Legion didn’t worship. He lived and he died. He reincarnated. He was at the mercy of the whims of the Lightbringer. That is, until Legion made the decision to adopt two unbearably annoying, mischievous, obnoxious little twin demons as his sisters. Creatures so exhausting and so unwilling to die and stay dead that they were banished from Hell to walk the Earth, Legion with them. Of course, he was welcome back any time. Without them.
Legion’s time on earth, some might say, has been rocky. Though his sisters were by his side for some of it, he was more often alone, and preferred it that way. Having no place to go, he wandered the earth for millenia. It’s hard to kill a creature like him, and he simply kept on living, never aging. Falling in love and out of it. The thing about living so much life for so long, is that you often become bitter. And if you don’t become bitter, you love more deeply than anyone you could ever know. Legion has been both of these people.
There is a lot of life to fit into the story of him. His most recent escapade ended, like most of the others, in tragedy. Deeply, madly, painfully in love with Apep, the god of chaos, he had chosen a life for himself at the side of the snake, against the Sun God, desperate for the life they could build together. No one had done for him what Apep had. He had felt rescued. Hell, the god had eaten Lucifer. For him.
And then, Apep died.
Or, rather, he was killed. Destroyed by his own family, murdered for his plot against the Sun. Legion fell into disrepair. He grieved in the only way he knew how: withering away. A catatonic state. Becoming one with the shadows. Starving to death.
Oh, death. Oh, what bliss.
When Legion dies, he changes. Over time, over many deaths, his memory fades away, until he remembers only a couple of his past lives. He takes a new name, a new appearance, and begins life anew. Sometimes with the memories and personality of his previous self. Often, there are alterations. He remembers Apep. Remembers the muscle of arms around him while they stood upon the beach. Remembers the elation he felt when Apep asked him if they shouldn’t live together, in a towering castle in the middle of the Irish moors, away from each of their troubles. Remembers the fear and exhilaration he felt as the god pressed a knife to his neck in a playful, sadistic manner. He remembers that their love burned quick and fast and hot, not like a candle but like a struck match. Knows that now, it’s over. Now, his name has changed. His face, too. Knows he is no longer the same.
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Legion Lucifai
He doesn’t know what he is, but he calls himself a demon. After all, he is not the devil, and he is from hell. With no other words to describe him, and with striking similarities to other creatures of the same name, this is how he prefers to identify. After all, Legion eats humans to survive. Blood, bones, skin, soul and all. What is more demonic than that?
Legion can go a very long time without food, if he trains for it. Typically, he prefers to eat every couple of weeks. In previous lives, when he was stronger and when he had more power, he could live for years, even decades at a time without consuming anything. These days, he is not the same creature he was then, and he simply must have nourishment, or he becomes ravenous and weak. When not consuming food for sustenance, however, Legion prefers sweet things to eat. Human food does nothing for him, except that he likes the taste of it. Ice cream is his favorite.
In the same vein, human vices do nothing for him except act as a comfort. Legion smokes because it hurts his lungs. He drinks because it burns. If he does enough of one drug, he will begin to feel something.
Legion appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stands at a moderate 6’3 when he looks like a human. Sometimes, he appears to be shorter. Though he does have a demonic form, he has found very little reason to actually use it, and so it remains essentially useless to him. His hair is the deepest brown; without direct sunlight, it appears black. His skin is ghostly pale, and his nails are often black and mildly pointed. He prefers the aesthetics of black clothing to almost all else, though he will sport a white shirt now and again, if the vibe calls for it. The only thing about his appearance that doesn’t change with his reincarnations are his eyes. They are black through and through, from pupil to sclera, with only a thin red ring around his iris. He sports deep bruising beneath his eyes, dark purple and blue, the bruising of a lobotomy victim. He hides his eyes beneath sunglasses for the part. Once upon a time, he had wings.
Legion is a playful and somewhat sarcastic character. Most often, he comes off as aloof and flirtatious (both things he actually is) but with a temper. He tries very hard to keep his cool, but it is in his demonic nature to run hot. He is exceptionally kind until he isn’t, playful to an alarming degree, and enjoys spending time with animals.
Legion is a musician. Actually, the better description of him would probably be a singer. He fell into the job after giving up his position in a large local drug ring, realizing that the high of performing on a stage for an enraptured crowd vastly outweighed selling drugs to rich snobs. Legion craves the attention of an enamored audience. His pop-punk style of both music and clothing earns him plenty of fans, and the tabloid stories of his rendezvous with both men and women keep them interested. His fanbase is small, and though he is considered more underground than mainstream, the fans are loyal. He has gained a cult following over the years. It is said that his music can change lives. People leave the concerts feeling more pleasured than when they came in. The feeling, they say, is addicting.
He lives in a London flat by himself. When not preparing for a performance, Legion often sleeps his days away and stalks out into the dark for the London nightlife. His natural way of consuming food is very conducive to night owl behavior.
Fun Facts:
Likes
Cats, flowers, sharp things, ice cream, shitty Chinese food, most men, fierce and powerful women, arguably bad animated movies, rain, the cold, cigarettes, bonfire smoke, iced coffee, scalding hot showers, blatant flirting, the taste of Vampire blood
Dislikes
Most dogs, most animal meat, hot coffee, yelling matches, vibrant colors, licorice, bitter foods, loneliness, injustice
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NPCs that often show up in Legion’s stories. Some of these characters I have written separately and others are only ever written with the purpose of advancing plot for Legion.
Anna
Legion’s manager and a siren. Anna has been around for as long as Legion has been making music. He saved her once, and since then they have been close friends. When he decided to quit his drug business and pursue music instead, Anna was the first to support his decision and help him grow his presence in the music industry. He doesn’t make any career decisions without her input. She manages all of his appointments, from modeling to interviews to concerts. Although she is a strict manager, she would never put Legion in a position that is too uncomfortable for him. She loves him dearly and would give her life for him. Anna is married to a gorgon woman, Navy.
Aki
Legion’s little sister. Aki presents herself as a thirteen year old girl with white skin, long black hair (picture The Ring), and a thin, emaciated body. She has fascinating eyes – silver most of the time, but opalescent when she’s using powers. She has no interest in love, relationships, or even, really, friendships. She is as creepy as a child can get, and although she appears as a teenager, her behavior often makes her seem much younger. It is important to note that despite this appearance, Aki is almost as old as her brother. She is the definition of evil and annoying. She loves causing mischief, murdering people (and animals!), and terrorizing humans. She carries around a puppet-like doll with her who holds a scythe called Mr. Happy. Some people say Mr. Happy is alive.
Aki is the twin sister of Keller, a beautiful blond-haired banshee. Aki loves her sister and her brother more than anything else in the world. Unlike Legion, she will kill upon the slightest inconvenience.
(Aki is my own character, but Keller is not, so she is not available to write or play at all.)
Lucifer
The devil. The lightbringer. The morningstar. Lucifer has always had an obsession with the demon. Their relationship is complicated. Legion is branded with Lucifer’s sigil, although what the angel really wants with him is hard to say for sure. Once upon a time, Legion was stronger than Lucifer, held more power over him. Now? Well, now it’s the other way around. Legion is Lucifer’s slave. Lucifer uses him as a toy, a sexual release, a punching bag.
Apep did eat him. Although Lucifer can regenerate and is immortal, it will take a while for him to return.
Uriel
In the 1980s, Legion (who went by a different name, Cassius) was considered a growing rockstar to rival other large bands at the time. He had the stage presence, the appearance, and gave just enough of a glance into his life that tabloids and fans thought he was scandalous and fascinating. However, all of that changed after he met Uriel. A man who had come to his shows, wormed his way into the demon’s life, and eventually into his heart. But Uriel’s intentions were cruel. Slowly, he dismantled everything Cassius had worked for, including his house, his job, and his friends. Uriel wanted the man all to himself, and he succeeded. After this, the tables turned. The sweet man Cassius thought he knew shed his skin to show a monster beneath it. Everything about him was swift, abusive, vicious. Cassius had never been more terrified of an angel.
Their break up was hard and left him with nothing. It almost ended his life. Uriel, being an angel, is equally as immortal as Legion, though the demon hasn’t seen Uriel since their relationship ended. Some pieces of it still haunt him, especially knowing that, somewhere, Uriel is lurking.
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About the Writer:
Hi! My name is Micajah (they/them). I'm 28 and an undergrad student in history, soon (hopefully) to be a grad student. I've been writing since 2007 (16 years!!!) but have had a rocky last few years. I haven't consistently written since 2020ish. You might know me from Rolepages or Faeries and Vampires (if you're OG)!
This is my second account :) Other account: https://wrealms.com/members/themoon
I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure
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If Legacy was disappointed in his lack of explanation, she didn't show it. Being a novice witch, she was fascinated by all forms of magic. “That’s okay; I understand. I haven't learned much about my own magic, so I'm always interested in how others wield it.” Not that she could learn much from him specifically. His power came from a different source than her own and worked differently.
When he mentioned that he was both made and could control — to a limited degree — shadows, more questions bubbled up on her lips, but she didn't voice them. That alone sounded complicated and perhaps too close to his origins. Neither of them knew each other enough to delve into such topics.
It was Legacy's nurturing trait that led her to fret over him. She had always donned the role of caretaker, both as a cat and now as a human, though Agatha had done her best to taint it. She seemed to sense his discomfort, so she let the subject drop.
She headed back towards the mansion. “It was weird eating human food for the first time. Chips, candy, fast food…it was overwhelming! Not that I had the chance to really experience it all, being indentured.” She pulled a face. “My favorite thing is white chocolate though. I would kill for it.” Legacy chuckled.
Once back inside the sprawling manor, Legacy made her way down the musty hallway and back up the creaking stairs, though she did pluck her dusty backpack up from the floor. This tim she ventured further down the shrouded hall. She passed two bedrooms, their doors hanging slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of once grand but now faded furnishings. Before long, she came upon a large, ominous-looking door. She pushed it open, wincing as the squeal of long-unused hinges assaulted her ears. Stepping across the threshold, she found herself in a massive, high-ceilinged room that seemed to stretch on forever. Her ball of magic was fading at this point, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. She searched the room in the dimming light, her eyes scanning the space until they landed on a chandelier, its crystals muted by years of grime but still clinging to the ceiling. With a quick burst of magic, she lit the chandelier. Instead of candles, tiny balls of soft, ethereal light hovered over where the candles had once sat. The warm glow lit the room, chasing away the shadows, but it was not a harsh light. It bathed everything in a soft, golden radiance.
Legacy's jaw dropped as she took in the sight before her. The room was a treasure trove; a veritable wonderland! Inside the room, stretching from floor to soaring ceiling and lining every inch of wall space, were bookcases upon bookcases upon bookcases, each one overflowing with hundreds, no thousands, of books. Tomes of every shape, size, and color seemed to stretch on forever. A clever railing system hugged the walls at the top of the towering shelves, supporting ladders that could slide along the walls, providing access to even the highest volumes. No book was out of reach. The air was thick with the musty scent of aged paper and a hint of forgotten knowledge.
“I think I've died and gone to Heaven,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Her excitement was palpable, almost tangible, as she gazed upon the literary treasure trove. She held zero reservations as she eagerly approached one of the ladders, her fingers twitching with anticipation. She tested the first rung tentatively at first; the metal had long since rusted and a thick layer of dust covered each step. Once she was certain it would hold her weight, she carefully began to scale the ladder. It creaked and groaned under her weight, but it held firm.
She quickly realized that the library was not organized alphabetically. That would make things harder. She plucked up the first tome that caught her eye, its leather cover embossed with strange symbols. Her eyes widened as she realized it was a book of magic; it explained spells, enchantments, and the like. She climbed down, her heart pounding with excitement, to get a better look. The pages were beautifully kept, perhaps protected by years of being snug between other books. The library was better kept than any other room so far. Though the room was laden with dust and dirt, the wooden shelves had somehow withstood the test of time. Rats had chewed holes in the wall here and there, but it was remarkably well preserved. A testament to the magic that still lingered in the air.
“This is a book of magic! Some of these spells I've never heard of. It shows how to brew potions and spellwork…” Legacy trailed off, her voice filled with awe. She was getting off track. She unzipped her backpack and stuffed the giant tome inside. She somehow managed to make it fit in a bag full of clothes. She looked up, meeting the gaze of her companion, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. “I’ll keep this. Ah…in case we need it for later…” She fooled no one. She was taking it because she wanted it. But it wasn't like anyone was coming back to this horrid place. Surely there was no harm in it. It was just a book, after all. A little trophy from their adventure.
She was back up the ladder, thumbing through the spines of endless books. She maneuvered her ladder down, flinching as the rusted wheels screamed in protest. The sound was rattling — like nails on a chalkboard.
“This might be interesting!” she called out, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. Pulling the book free from its resting spot sent a shower of dust flying into the air, causing Legacy to sneeze. She climbed down, her eyes watering. The words Demonology were etched in gold into the tome. Legacy sighed; the obsession with demons was getting to be unhealthy. Alistair must really have feared for his life. Or, it's possible that this book existed here before Emily and Duncan. Legacy skimmed through the book, disappointed that it only held information based on legends and stereotypes. One thing did catch her eye.
“Hey Legion? Are the Gates of Hell a thing? Could they be opened, by chance?” Was that Agatha's end goal? To open the gates of hell and…what? Release demons upon the world? What would that get her? Certainly not revenge. Some demons might relish in the opportunity to ravage the world.
Roger & Legion
It was established with certainty that Legion could indeed see far earlier on, but that didn't serve as much of a comfort for Roger. His eyes working just fine only added to the mystery of why the hell they looked the way they did. Those void-like scleras and horrid bruises had to come from somewhere. Not so dissimilar to his own visions of a war-filled future requiring some sort of reasoning. And that was the topic which Legion had finally latched onto.
Roger took a small sip from his drink and gave a light sigh. This wasn't an easy subject for him to discuss, not normally. But he was a little drunk and that would get him talking. "They're like...dreams. Real vague, yet sometimes vivid. And they don't always hit me at night. They're v-violent. Horrible things happen. And the worst part is, I feel like I'm...controlling 'em." Blurting out that particular revelation caused Roger to trail off. For a moment, he felt as if he was going to be sick and it very likely showed on his face. He paused for a bit, waiting out the sensation of nausea.
Once it had mostly passed, he changed the topic to something that was more comfortable for him to talk about. For now it was, at least. "So, how can there be that many of you? D'you have...identical siblings? Do they all have your same eyes?" He half-scoffed, half-chuckled at his own idea. Perhaps that was an entirely silly thing to suggest, but he couldn't think of anything that made more sense to him at the time. Nothing that might be able to occur in reality, so much as he knew.
“Indeed. But this must have happened centuries ago. We don't know how long these witches lived. Margaret is the only true child of Bonnie and Alistair. It's possible this traumatized her and when she left, she passed down the story to her children.” Or, she could have buried it as Alistair had, too shamed by her father's treachery. Legacy wasn’t convinced that any of this family still remained, but it was possible their descendants did.
“If Duncan is alive, he won't be for much longer,” Legacy threatened darkly. It was true that Legacy has never intentionally killed someone, but there was a first time for everything. She had a feeling she wouldn't finish this quest of hers without shedding blood anyway. Agatha would eventually send her goons out for her once she realized how close she was getting.
Legacy winced at the mention of Hell. It didn't sound like an appropriate place for a child, but she couldn't judge. She'd never been. Legion had made it sound alright, though. “I think we should still check the library for information; once Emily is taken care of.” There had to be a library, after all. Creepy ancient mansions always had them. But was Emily ready?
Emily was sure. She'd spent too long in these hallowed walls. Anything would be better, she knew. Too excited to really pay attention to what Legion was doing, she waited with an eagerness that was nearly impossible to contain. What wonders of the world would she see? Or would she be transported to whatever afterlife awaited her? Would she see her mother again? Would she see her real mother? Did she even want to? She'd been abandoned by her. Unwanted and discarded. Had her life been better had she known Annabelle?
A strange sensation stirred within Emily's core, a tingling tug in her gut that resonated with an otherworldly energy. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was insistent, like an unseen force pulling at the very threads of her being. Her soul felt stretched, pulled taut until it reached a breaking point. With a sudden, sharp snap, the tension released. Emily gasped, her breath catching in her throat.
In that instant, a surge of power burst forth from the hallowed grounds, radiating outward in an invisible cloud that crackled with ancient magic. The Blackwood family, in their fear and desperation, must have cast a spell to bind the demon's spirit to this place. Emily's presence had been a key part of that binding spell, and now that she was free, the raw energy of the spell was unleashed.
Emily felt light, as if she could lift off the ground and drift away on the breeze. The invisible leash that had held her in place for so long was gone. A sense of exhilaration washed over her, mixed with a touch of sadness.
"Percy!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. The sight of her beloved cat, his familiar form and comforting presence, brought tears to her eyes. It had been a while since she had seen him. She scooped him up into her arms, holding him close as if she'd never let him go again. As she hugged him, her form began to shimmer and lose its definition, becoming ethereal and translucent. For a moment, she remained there, a fading image of a girl with her cat. Then, with a whisper of tinkling laughter, she vanished, leaving behind only the memory of her presence. Had she traveled through a spiritual portal to some other place, been reborn, or simply had found the peace that had eluded her for so long? Only time would tell.
While Emily had not been focused on Legion, Legacy had been unable to tear her gaze away. There was something fascinating about him, something that drew her in despite the danger that lurked beneath his surface. Part of her fascination stemmed from her interest in all things magical, and Legion was undeniably a creature of incredible power. Fascinated, she dared to step closer, heart pounding in her chest, while still maintaining a respectful distance. A heavy pressure bore down on her, like an oppressive blanket that threatened to smother her, but she stood firm, refusing to bow.
Dark magical energy swirled around the demon, invisible to the eye but palpable to her other senses. Her gaze sharpened on his hands; threads of shadows danced across his hands, sinking into the flesh before spreading out like veins. When he removed his hand from Emily, Legacy thought they would dissipate. Instead, they clung to him, caressing his skin like loathsome claws that left their marks. Legacy's mouth opened, words of warning or questions or something more perched on her lips, but before she could speak, the old, forgotten magic burst forth from the ground. It rolled over the mansion and its grounds, a wave of power that stirred her hair and rustled her clothes, but seemed to do little more than that. The oppressive pressure lifted, the heavy weight that had pressed down on her easing at last.
Legacy flinched away when the cat appeared, but relaxed when she realized this was the famous Percy. Or, at least, a spiritual guide impersonating Percy and not the ghostly spirits she might have feared. The cat's pelt seemed to illuminate with an illustrious glow, but no stars danced across his pelt.
There was a pressure of a different kind in her chest when Emily slowly disappeared. She'd only known her less than an hour, but she couldn't help but notice an emptiness now that she was gone. She had been the only light on these grounds. Without her, the mansion somehow seemed more opposing.
Legacy snapped her focus back to Legion; he was already standing. He looked okay, but she knew summoning such power must have taken a toll. If it had, he hid it remarkably well. Or perhaps this had been nothing but a tap into the power he wielded. “Are you okay? What kind of magic was that? I'd never felt anything like it; incredible! You should rest…” she frowned. Where would he rest exactly? On the disgusting, withered couch inside the mansion? Gross.
“Do you need to take a minute? Or maybe you need something to eat?” At least, she always grew hungry after throwing magic around, but maybe that was a witch thing. She then recalled what Legion had stated earlier; the reasons why demons could be created. “Can you eat human food? Or do you eat something else?” She'd left her bag in the foyer. She might have a protein bar or two in there. The library could wait; they had all night.
Legacy raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps ‘evil’ is in the eye of the beholder. You haven't done any wicked thing around me yet. I'm sure there is darkness in you, but there is darkness in everyone. I suppose when I say ‘evil’ I mean that you aren't out there torturing or killing the innocent for sport.”
“And you're helping me!” Emily added over her shoulders.
The barn was a relic to a bloodied past. She murmured her thanks to Legion as he steadied her, but her eyes were only for Emily. Legacy could not imagine that kind of treachery. She flinched. Yes you can. She had been the catalyst of such a tragedy, once before. Once she was standing, she urged Legion to look after Emily. Ghostly tears streamed down her face as she struggled to stand on unsteady legs. Reliving the memory had unlocked something in her mind. “Yes…yes. I remember. I told him to stop killing the animals. He would place their bodies around me when I was having my fits, making my parents think I had done it. And I was afraid of speaking the truth; Father would never believe me and my mother was simply focused on making me well. I had warned him he'd gone too far with Percy. I…” Emily squeezed her eyes closed. It was as if a mental block had been placed on her. Legacy reached out with a thread of magic. Now that she understood the main source of the block, she could follow it. Eyes closed, the air around them electrified and hum with a strange spiritual buzz. Emily's eyes flew open.
“The letters! I found some old letters between my father and a vampire named Sebastien. He was playing tricks with my mother's head. It would begin with headaches, then she would become forgetful. That's when the vampire showed up and erased memories her mind wanted to reveal to her. She was a witch though, and strong willed. The compulsion faded after a while…” Emily flinched. “Father had been furious when he found me rifling through his things. He told me I would regret it. But he didn't do anything for a long time. When my fits stopped being so regular, he didn't have as much reason to spew hate at me.”
“We found receipts for a glamor spell. If Alistair used glamor to hide your eyes, why would your mother think you to be a demon?”
“Mother never saw my eyes. I think she worried that I was possessed rather than an actual demon.”
“And every time Alistair looked at you, with your black eyes, he was reminded of his failure and weakness. So he hated you; he needed Duncan to take over the family mantle, so I supposed he tolerated him. They tried to drift you and your mother apart with circumstantial evidence. When that failed, they resorted to more dire actions.” Legacy guessed.
“My mother wanted to leave them. She feared Alistair and Duncan in equal measure. Margaret said that he has once been the perfect supportive father, but that all changed the night we arrived. My mother was starting to suspect something as time went on. I heard her whispering in the halls to servants; she was also using Sebastian for her own gains. This was after I died though; I think she gave him something else, something that would let her see the truth.”
“Another artifact,” Legacy concluded. “I gave Ryan an Amulet. I'm working with a vampire to uncover its secrets. It could be an amulet of truth. Very rare. With the right spell, it could cause harm to vampires, despite the innocent name. If Agatha has a grudge against vampires too, this could be why. Vampire meddling also conspired to destroy the Blackwood's. Although the only one to really blame is Alistair himself.” How could Agatha be so short sighted?
“I didn't die in the water,” Emily went on solemnly. “He dragged me out, rolled me over on the grassy field. I remember the sun shining and the glint of metal…then a terrible pain in my chest. It was like I was burning from the inside out. Then I was staring over my body, unable to do anything. Yes…yes…It was Duncan!”
“Which means Alistair likely gave the blade over for his own son to kill you. Your own brother. Sickening,” Legacy growled, properly disgusted.
“I…I feel lighter now,” Emily admitted softly.
“The tethers that hold you are weakening,” Legacy murmured approvingly. This was good. The less that bound her here the better.
“If either of us releases you, I cannot promise where you can go. There are spiritual portals all over the world that will take you to different places for easier travel. You will be seen and heard by very few, so it can be a lonely experience. Of course, other ghosts can keep you company. As far as laying to rest…I do not know of the afterlife for demons or demon hybrids.” Maybe Legion would know. She paused to allow him to offer his insight should he have some.
“Anything is better than here,” Emily assured her without hesitation.
Legacy settled her gaze on Legion. “Do you think you could free her? I see no real need to keep her tied to this terrible place a moment longer.”
“Even after you free me, I'll try to stick around in case you need me further,” Emily added quickly. “I owe you. Both of you.”
Legacy shook her head. “You don't owe us anything. I only wish I had known all of this sooner. I would have tried to help you sooner.”
“What do you want with this…Agatha?” Emily wondered, tilting her head.
“She has something of mine I would very much like back. I was trading items in exchange for information of her whereabouts. I think one of those items might have been the weapon of your demise. I'm trying to get them back. I don't really know what Agatha plans to do with them yet.”
Emily considered that for a moment. “My half-sister, Margaret. She was quite disenchanted with all of this. I do not know if she lives, but there was a place she always spoke of when we were kids.”
That got Legacy's attention. “Oh?”
Emily blinked, spacing out for a moment as she filed through her memories. What was that place called again?
“Devon. She always wanted to live in Devon.”
Legacy's gaze softened when Legion wrapped his arm around Emily. The young girl had this secret, happy little smile on her face. If her father had wanted nothing to do with her, this sort of male companionship had been denied to her when she lived. A father was the first role model that a young girl has of the opposite sex; Alistair had failed that in every deceitful way.
“It sounds like you had epilepsy or encephalitis.” Legacy stated, obviously on the same page as Legion. “Those fits you describe sound like seizures. It's a condition in the brain, usually, and you cannot control yourself in them. It is not a condition that was well understood. Such illnesses were thought to be demonic possessions. I'm not saying all instances were not supernatural, but I would bet a vast majority of them were medical related issues. Unfortunately, I doubt there was much your family could have done to help you. Passionflower and cilantro may have helped.” Legacy frowned, realizing that last line didn't need to be said. “Sorry. I like herbs and medicine. I forget myself sometimes.”
Legacy became lost in thought for a moment, thinking of how Emily's illness could have progressed. She had stated that they had become less frequent as she grew older — was her brain simply more developed?
She heard Legion say “sex” and her eyes cut to him. She looked a little mortified at his explanation; not that it said much beyond the obvious and was certainly vague enough to go right over a child's head. A light blush spread over her cheeks, but she remained quiet as Legion continued his explanation. Emily nodded thoughtfully. She stared ahead, seeing nothing but digesting the information Legion had handed her. Her curiosity had yet to be sated. She tilted her head up to Legion. “So, have you —”
“I think that's enough questions on the topic,” Legacy interjected quickly, her blush darkening. She wasn't quite sure exactly where that question had been leading to, but she did not want to find out. Emily pouted. Sensing that she was poking a bear, as it were, Emily grinned. She was a child, after all. Children did love to make adults squirm.
“What about y—”
“No more questions.” Legacy interrupted again. Her body language made it clear she wasn't going to budge.
Emily giggled. Legacy rolled her eyes. “StarClan help me,” she mumbled under her breath.
Back to safer topics, Legacy tilted her head. “It’s clear what happened here destroyed this family. According to the journal entries, Alistair did appear to love Bonnie at some point. Maybe he would have learned to accept her later in life. Or maybe she would have had children later down the line. There are many reasons why a woman cannot conceive. We have no idea if her affliction would have lasted. Whatever may have happened, we know what did. Do you think Agatha blames the demon, Annabelle, for her family's demise?
“Wait a second…you said your brother killed your cat? His name….it was Duncan? And Duncan left with you and your half-sister Margaret, correct?”
Emily nodded.
“I bet Duncan is related to Agatha in some way. Great grandfather or something. If he had madness in him, it would explain her sociopathic ways. No offense,” she glanced at Legion. “I’m not saying all demons are evil, because,” well, her gaze remained on him for a moment before sliding towards Emily. Some demons were good, just as some humans were bad. “But I think it's fair to say not every demon is friendly. Legion, do demons perform sacrifices? I know humans do but I don't know if it actually pleases any god. Would, ah, Lucifer, or any demon, respond to a sacrifice? Perhaps Duncan trying to reunite with his mother?” Of course, that would mean he knew Bonnie was not his mother. Emily did not know until today. Or did he simply have some notion that he could appease some god with sacrifices?
At the mention of the barn, Emily grinned widely. “Oh, yes! We have quite a few horses. I liked to spend time there; it was quiet and the horses never minded my presence. I can take you there!”
Feeling empowered, Emily stepped away from her place at Legion's side and proudly headed down the stairs. She moved with ethereal grace that was anything but human, but it was beautiful in its own way. Legacy followed behind her. From the foyer, Emily steered towards the back hallway. Spider webs were woven on the candle sconces that decorated this hallway. Legacy could hear the clicking of rats in the walls.
“Percy might have seen Emily's death,” Legacy spoke quietly to Legion. “If we don't find much here, I could always try to summon his spirit. I don't know where cats who aren't Clan cats go, but maybe he lingers here, somewhere. I'll have to go to my shop as well to collect the herbs I'll need to free Emily.”
Up ahead, Emily was speaking about the horses. “We don't have a river or a pond. The horses drank from the troughs. My mother taught me to ride, you know. It was our favorite activity together. We'd canter out towards the rolling hills. Sometimes we had picnics. Sometimes Margaret joined us.
“I like horses too,” Legacy smiled.
The hallways gradually expanded, unfolding into a pair of imposing doors. Once, these doors had been resplendent with stained glass, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing across their surface. Now, that glass lay shattered and forgotten, crunching beneath Legacy's cautious footsteps.
The hinges looked so rusted, so fragile, that a mere touch might shatter them. As Legacy carefully crawled through the doorway, shards of stained glass still clinging to the frame splintered off, tinkling against the ground.
“Over here!” Emily's excited voice carried back to Legacy. She was already several strides ahead, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Before them stretched the remnants of what had once been a garden. Bushes had long since withered and died, their skeletons stark against the overgrown weeds. Some herbs still clung to life, but they were sickly and pale, choked out by the encroaching wildness. Seeing a garden in such disarray was like a physical blow to Legacy.
Dominating the landscape was a massive barn, its windows long since fallen out. The wood was cracked and rotted, worn down by age and neglect. Yet the barn doors remained, sturdy against all odds. Legacy flicked the rusted lock, and the doors groaned open with a heavy creak. The air inside was thick with cobwebs and the scent of decay.
The stalls stood empty, their wooden walls covered in dusty webs. A small shed attached to the barn housed rusting shovels and wheelbarrows, forgotten horse tack hanging from the walls. A large water trough stood barren, its metal flaking away with rust.
it certainly looked innocent enough. Legacy let her fingers trail over the walls, the tack, the stalls…searching for a connection, like that one she'd experienced upstairs. If something happened here, the walls and earth would have soaked it in.
Her fingertips, now black with dirt, brushed against the trough.
And she was lost.
Legacy was no longer merely feeling the echoes of someone’s final moments — as she had with Bonnie; she was inside them, living the horror.
Gone were the hallowed walls of the barn.
Bright, summer sky, caressing her cheeks like a comforting hand. The wind teased her hair. Then, she felt a fist in her hair. Too small to be her father's — she knew the cruelty of his hand — clutched the back of her head. The blue sky and the puffy clouds disappeared, replaced by an icy splash of water. It filled her mouth, her lungs, choking off her scream. Panic flared, then transformed into agony as her body screamed for oxygen. This was taking too long. Too long. She was in the water too long! She should be dead by now. Weak. She felt incredibly weak. But not dead.
Legacy's gasp tore her back to the present, her knees buckling beneath her. The force of the vision had felled Emily as well, who now clutched at her head, gasping and sputtering.
"I should be dead," she whispered, the words tumbling out like a desperate prayer as she relived the drowning. Legacy's teeth clenched; she never meant to draw her into this. She must have stood too close, and the link to the memory had pulled her in. Legacy envisioned towering stone walls erupting around her, blocking the vision, separating the wild emotions etched into this barn. The instant the barrier took hold, Emily collapsed, limp.
"Are you okay?" Legacy's voice trembled as she hauled herself up, the room spinning until she had to grab the wall for support. "Someone tried to drown her," she managed to explain. "But it didn't work. Is that possible? It seemed to weaken her, but can a demon survive suffocation?"
Roger & Legion
Little had he known what a mistake it was to express that he'd be content seeing this stranger's eyes. Of course, he had expected the usual shade of blue, green, brown or gray. But now called for an uncomfortable pause as the man slipped his shades lower on his nose bridge. At first, Roger wasn't sure what the pair of hellish voids on the other's face actually were. They didn't look like eyes much at all. Not in a typical sense. It might have been due to his lack of focus so he leaned in slightly to change that, wobbling clumsily while doing so.
It was then that he could make out the deep bruising around the sockets and, if just barely, the devilishly crimson pupils in those pools of black.
"O-oh..." Roger muttered, a hint of distress making its way into his tone. He pulled back while remaining seated, grabbing onto the sides of the table to keep himself from falling. "Oh, dear." Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "Sorry. D'you think y-you ought to get them checked..?" The other's appearance probably wasn't something to joke about but then again, Roger wasn't sure if he meant the remark in that manner.
Was there such a condition that made eyes look so wrong? He didn't know, just as he doubted he would want to find out.
Especially because the one with the unnatural, inhuman eyes had referred to himself as Legion, and he had done so with nonchalance. And now, this Legion fellow had found a sudden curiosity in what had caused him to take a tumble earlier on, and whether or not it had to do with intoxication. "I'm not drunk," Roger shot down the idea. "Not drunk enough." With that said, he waved to the bartender and ordered up another drink. Mad Jack's or not, he needed more alcohol in him after seeing those frightful peepers.
"It's a thing that h-happens..." Roger said once he took a sip from his new mug of beer. "I see things. And they're not very nice." He frowned and licked his lips, feeling a bit queasy at the mere thought of those visions. "So, erm, Legion. I-is that a biblical reference? I'm going to guess that you've chosen that name, but why?"
It had to be a nickname. Roger didn't think he could handle any other answer. Those unholy eyes, which were either horrifically diseased or scarred or simply contacts, were a coincidence and nothing more. Or so he felt inclined to believe.
The momentary sounds of clapping echoed throughout the room as the last performer took their leave from the stage; though at that particular moment Vanitas was focused on the refreshing taste of his beverage. Minor chatter filled the air until the next performer made their way to the stage, only for silence to overtake the room - and a beautiful harmony quickly directed everyone’s attention to the stage.
Vanitas soon reverted his gaze to the stage as well, intrigued by the song, before he began to feel...off, but in a good way? His eyes softened, unable to focus on anything but the man’s voice accompanied by the melody of the guitar - and in that moment everything felt so wonderful. His lingering stress seemed to fade away, his worries no longer existed. He hadn’t felt such a wave of happiness in so long, it was perfect - too perfect, and what led the nephalem to shake his head to snap himself out of it. A small part of him felt reluctant to do so.
"Geez..." He said while briefly moving his left hand over his hand, standing up from his seat before looking around. Everyone else around him was solely focused on the performance, but what earned a curious look from Vanitas was how they all had the same happy yet dazed expression on their faces. Most stood motionless as they listened, while a few gently swayed in rhythm of the song. Even the two supernaturals that tried to give him trouble earlier were blissfully lost in the performance.
Golden hues continued to glance around the room - right as his paranoia then took over - was this part of some potential attack? A spell to make the patrons lower their guard before delivering the final blow? Thankfully Vanitas wouldn’t see anything to strengthen that theory. However, he decided it was best to remain by the bar in case something did occur.
For now Vanitas simply looked on at the singing man curiously, while folding his arms over his chest. Now his mind was flooding with various questions. Why put others in a trance-like state? Why was this guy wearing sunglasses at night? And even with the specs on his face, why did he look familiar? For now he wouldn't be able to place the other. Although, it was a bit awkward to be the only individual in the room not being affected by his song.
"No, not with Percy. Percy visits sometimes though." Emily's face brightened as the warmth of the fire seeped into her chilled bones. It had been an eternity since she'd felt such comforting heat. As they ascended the stairs, she found herself unconsciously drifting closer to Legion, craving the radiant warmth that seemed to emanate from him. "They were in the family graveyard." At the question of her father, Emily tilted her head, her brow furrowing in thought. "I believe him to be dead, although I can't say for sure. He isn't buried here, but then, my mother was the last Blackwood to be laid to rest here. I'm sure my sister and brother went on to start their own families and the bloodline continues."
Legacy barreled right into the demon. For one horrific second, she didn't recognize him. His hold was steadfast and kept her from falling or colliding with something else. She looked up, the gold flecks in her eyes glowing. She released a shuddering breath when she realized who it was.
"Echos of what happened here...the past bleeds into this place." Her voice was hoarse. “Memories, emotions...the walls and floors soak it in, then sometimes replay it under the right conditions; Stone Tape Theory. Something is really wrong here. Something that tore this family apart. A woman named Bonnie hung herself in that room." She shivered, still reeling.
“I'm alright," she assured him after a long moment of focused breaths. “I haven't felt something as strong as that before. I can feel the death of spirits, sometimes, and especially if they wish to share it with me, but it's not something I typically welcome in or like, for obvious reasons. It's never happened when touching personal affects though. Then again," her voice lowered as sadness dripped from her words and her eyes clouded with grief, “There is much emotion in suicide notes, so it makes sense."
Legacy blinked when he stepped aside to reveal a young girl with jet black hair and bottomless pits as eyes. Her jaw dropped; this was no mere guest, but a ghost. And one he so clearly saw! Or did he know it to be a ghost? For Legacy, spirits normally appeared clearly to her. Sometimes their figure was more solid, while others had a translucent glean to them. Emily, as Legion had called her, appeared as solid as flesh and blood. Only Legacy's second senses told her that this was a lost spirit. Otherwise, she looked quite alive.
“Bonnie was my mother," Emily provided, stepping a little closer but noticably refrained from straying too far from Legion. “You don't look like a cat," she accused with a frown.
"I'm kind of like a cat," Legacy allowed. There was a softness not seen before with her. She bent down to Emily's level, her eyes bright with affection, until she was on her knees. Dirt and dust be damned. “I was born a cat, at least. It's...a long story. And one I won't bore you with."
“Wow." Emily breathed. “So your mother is a cat? Your father? How do you speak to them? I mean, that must be weird right?"
Legacy chuckled. Leave it to a child to be brutally honest. It was refreshing.
“Yes, although I never knew my father. Few cats do, if I'm honest." Because that was simply nature. “Unless they live in a Clan, of course. That's where a bunch of cats live together and help each other survive."
“So you grew up in a Clan?" Emily's love and fascination with cats kept the questions coming.
“I did. Though I was not born there. My mother brought me and my siblings there when we were kits." Legacy had the indication that Emily would continue to feed her questions. While she was not opposed to answering the girl's questions — and indeed, she quite approved of her inquisitive nature — she did not wish to delve too much into her own story. So, she hastily added, “I'm sorry that you're trapped here. I can help you with that. We first must find out how you died. I'm sorry, but that will be the only way you can reach peace. That mystery is what ties you to this place."
“If I find out how I died, will I then be able to leave?" Emily asked, her voice full of hope.
“I'm sorry, darling, but it will not be that easy." Anger darkened Legacy's face. “Your family thought you were a demon that must be trapped and cleansed. They tethered you to this place, then tried to rid you. I suspect it did not work because you are only half-demon. Fools. It should have been a ritual to bring peace, not of vanquishing."
“Demon? But I'm not a demon. I'm a witch. My mother and father were both witches."
Well, fuck.
Legacy belatedly realized that Legion had told her he had discovered something. Upon seeing the child, she had sidelined him. She brought herself to her feet and carefully took the journal from Legion. She turned and leaned against the wall as she skimmed through the pages carefully. For a moment, she was confused as to the significance of this book. It was just one man's life story growing up, falling in love, and having a child.
When she reached the later chapters, she couldn't help but feel disgusted. Poor Bonnie! She'd given everything she could to Alistair.
“Men back in the day were so infuriating," she hissed. “Always blaming it on the women. Men can be barren too." Oh, but no, the male race was perfect.
Anger flushed her cheeks as she neared the end of Alistair's tale. “Sex. It's always sex." Legacy muttered with an epic eye roll.
“What's sex?" Emily asked innocently.
Horror flew across Legacy's face. Had she said that loud enough for the child to hear? Her jaw dropped, cheeks turning rosy red. She gathered herself with a cranky grumble before answering, “Someone will tell you when," when you're older. Legacy didn't finish the sentence. Emily was never going to age past childhood. It was a sick twist of fate to have lost a life so young and vibrant. Legacy's chest ached for an altogether different reason.
“Someone will tell you later. Eventually. Never mind it," she grumbled instead. She sure as hell wasn't. “And anyway, I didn't think demons could produce offspring. I just thought demons were simply....created." Evidently not. She had never heard or seen of a demon baby.
They had more serious matters at hand. With a wretched sigh, Legacy closed the journal and handed it back to Legion. It was clear that Emily did not know her true origins.
“Your birth mother was a demon named Annabelle." Or was that a fake name? It seemed far too cheery for a demon's name — or was that being too stereotypical? “But your father was still Alistair. When your mother could not keep you and your brother, she brought you here. That doesn't mean Bonnie wasn't your mother. She loved you very much, didn't she?"
Emily smiled a little. “Yes. She always made me smile and laugh. We did everything together. She even made chores seem like fun. She was always so proud of me, even when I didn't come into my magic."
Legacy shot Legion a glance. That was unusual.
“I...remember being sick as a child. My twin brother almost never was. I'd get into fits that I couldn't control sometimes. It really set my father off."
Legacy sucked in a sharp breath. This sounded too familiar. “Do you remember what sort of fits you had?"
Emily's eyebrows drew down. “Yes. They happened more sparingly as I grew older, but often more intense. I...I couldn't control my body. I would convulse, sometimes mumble words I didn't really understand. They always had a priest come by after my fits, but I don't think he helped."
Of course. Legacy closed her eyes. The story was slowly clicking into place. Alistair went and cheated on his wife and had two more children from it. Not only that, he knew his affair had been with a demon. Regardless of where demons actually originate, this God-fearing man definitely assumed he had slept with one of Lucifer's spawn. So when his daughter had black eyes, then starting having these"fits" — which to Legacy sounded like seizures — he feared that the Devil himself was coming after him and his family. Had Alistair killed his own child? Bonnie had obviously learned the truth and had been unable to live with it.
“My father..." Emily bit her lip. “He sometimes accused me of doing terrible things."
“What sort of things?" Legacy lowered herself to her knees once more.
Emily's voice hitched. “Like...killing things, when I was in my fits. Animals. But I never did! I could not control myself, it's true, but I was aware of my surroundings! My body always locked up. It was impossible for me to do anything like that. But my brother..." Emily's voice was thick with tears. “He killed Percy. I remember now! He sliced him open from chin to tail. I was so angry and upset! Then I began having my fit. Duncan was so mean. He didn't help me through it. Just laid the knife and Percy's body next to me while he fetched Father."
Legacy wanted to strangle Alistair. No, she wanted to do worse.
Legacy turned her head to glance at Legion again. So Duncan, the brother, was the cruel twin, slaughtering innocent animals. He didn't have the black eyes, so it was easy to place blame on Emily. Especially with her fits.
“Dear one, I'm so terribly sorry." Legacy reached out with both hands to clasp the girl on the shoulders. Emily sniffled and wiped her eyes, leaning into Legion for support.
Legacy stood. “I detest this. I'm thinking now that Duncan might be a predecessor to Agatha. A father? Grandfather? Great grandfather? Damn," Legacy hissed as realization dawned. “That means Agatha hereself is part demon." She did not know how much yet, but it did explain the hint of sulfur she always scented around her.
“The note...it said that the truth was buried with Emily. The mind altercations...that was compulsion on Bonnie to believe the children were her own. The glamour was there to conceal Emily's eyes." Legacy's own eyes widened. The golden glow had been growing dimmer all this time, revealing only her chocolate eyes. “What if...what if they used the Demon's Bane on her? Maybe she was buried with that. Obviously someone came along and dug it up. If the Blade is connected to events here, that makes it connected to Agatha."
Emily gazed at the hand for a long time. Her form shimmered once more. She shook her head, causing the locks of her hair to sway with an otherworldly grace. She seemed to have decided Legion was someone to be trusted, because she eventually extended her hand. Her hand was as if made of mist when she "took" his hand. The hand she covered was chilled to the bone. Most mortals would recoil. As Emily stood there, she felt a prickling sensation in her body. A hum of power that caused her to tremble. She gazed, entranced, as her body became more solid. The hand that had only been a specter now had bone and flesh. Her eyes went wide with wonder.
“Okay,” she once more whispered. Though yearning for the sensations of the flesh, she exhibited restraint as she locked eyes with him. “Ready."
Then, perhaps surprising him, she stated, “Another came here, long ago. I tried to scare them away. They dug through the graveyard and took something. I was too afraid to get too close. I don't know what it was." Emily was trying to help him, it seemed. Perhaps that tidbit of information would help uncover the dark secrets still tucked away.
Meanwhile, Legacy had yet to find anything resembling a library, but she had come across a bedroom. The room was large; a window overlooking the gardens stood proudly on the southside wall. Cobwebs covered every surface. A thick layer of dust, dirt, and grime covered a bed big enough for two. Rats had long ago chewed into the box spring and made themselves at home. They scurried out of sight when Legacy stepped in, unaccustomed to people, claws clicking on the floor.
Shoved against the wall was a red wooden desk. The wood was rotting away, but there were a few things scattered across the surface. Mindful of the collection of rat droppings there, Legacy carefully skimmed through it. She came across a slim book that described and explained spiritual and demonic cleanings. That was strange. The pages referenced sage, Palo wood, crystals and other such natural properties.
The desk featured a drawer. Legacy carefully pulled at the ancient handle, wincing when it snapped off. She had to pry it open by wiggling her fingers into the tiny crack. A thick stack of papers were tucked inside. Now these were very peculiar. They appeared to be "note to self" writings but they progressively grew more demented with each new entry.
I hear voices in my head.
Emily; my poor, sweetest Emily, is gone!
Voices. Voices inside my head. They sound like Emily. Oh, how I miss her!
Alistair. He hides. He hides, he tricks, he lies! I know not the truth. Truth. Find the truth!
I will know the truth. I will know. I will know!
The last slip of paper lacked the beautiful calligraphy that graced the others; this was scrawled as if the writer had darkened the letters by writing over them multiple times. They were much larger too, taking up nearly the entire page.
The state of the bedroom itself was also strange. Despite its state of disrepair, a peek in the closet showed clothes still hanging there, despite the fabric being torn away by hungry moths. The dressers were also filled with wardrobes belonging to a man and a woman. There was a safe stashed in the farthest corner, but the door was ajar and the safe emptied.
Well, except for two things; a lock of hair as black as ebony tied with a green ribbon and a roll of paper. Legacy unraveled the script. The boorish scribbling was absent here. It read;
Dearest, yet most detestable Alistair,
My pen scratches out these words, heavy with the weight of sorrow and betrayal. I am compelled to express the depths of my anguish, for you have irrevocably shattered the vessel of my trust. The amulet's revelation has laid bare the horrific truth you sought to conceal within the labyrinth of your deceit.
Oh, the barbarity that befell my innocent Emily! Her death, a grim testament to the monstrous secrets you nurtured. I am no longer the naive pawn, blindly moving upon your chessboard of lies. My mind, once clouded by affection, now reels beneath the burden of your treachery.
You dared profane our bond by asking a creature of the night to defile my memories! Eternal damnation shall be your reward, you who were once my husband. Can my heart, once so full of love for you, ever find forgiveness? I adored you, Alistair. My devotion was unwavering, and yet...
Why was Margaret's presence not enough to satiate your desires? Could you not see that my love for you burned brighter than any fleeting passion? Alas, my affection for Emily and Duncan was pure, untainted by the darkness that has consumed your soul.
Had you but confessed your transgressions, perhaps a path to redemption might have been ours to tread together. Perhaps Emily's fate could have been altered. Now, I fear it is too late. The shadows that have long haunted our family shall claim me as well, and soon I shall find my eternal rest beside my beloved Emily. May the secrets of her demise remain buried with her for all of time.
May God, in His infinite mercy, find some spark of goodness within your soul to temper the judgement you shall face. Yet, I fear you shall be forever lost to the darkness you have embraced.
Yours, in sorrow and betrayal,
- Bonnie
Legacy staggered backward, her mind shattered by a tsunami of raw anguish that seemed to sear her very soul. The ancient walls of the room, long silent witnesses to the emotions that had played out within them, now screamed back at her with a malevolent fury. A torrent of torment ripped through her, forcing her to her knees as if some invisible hand had reached down to throttle her.
Her airway constricted, choking off her breath until she was coughing and sputtering like a fish dragged onto the shore. Agony detonated around her neck, a white-hot band of pain that shot down her spine like molten lava. Somehow, she managed to tilt her head back, her gaze dragging upward...up toward the weathered rafters that spanned the ceiling of the decaying house.
The home itself was a rotting carcass, its wooden flesh riddled with the worms of time and neglect, yet the rafters remained, steadfast sentinels holding aloft the remnants of a forgotten roof. All except one. A single beam, positioned just slightly off-kilter from where a bed once sat, was splintered and bowed, its surface gouged and scratched as if it had once borne a terrible weight.
As suddenly as it had come, the crushing oppression lifted, leaving Legacy's body to sag in relief as her lungs greedily gulped in oxygen. The dust-choked air sent her into a fit of coughing, but at least she had the ability to breathe.
Bonnie's spirit was not present, Legacy was certain of that. Yet the echoes of the dead woman's final moments still clung to the space like a shroud. It was then that understanding dawned, a terrible awareness of how Bonnie had met her end. A chill skittered down Legacy's spine as her gaze locked onto the misshapen rafter.
Bonnie had tied a rope around her neck, flung the other end over the beam, and then flung herself from the bed in a desperate bid for escape. But the calculations of the desperate are often fatally flawed. There had been no merciful snap of neck, no swift oblivion. No, Bonnie had hung there, suspended in a horrific limbo, as the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness and death came for her by agonizing degrees.
Legacy scrambled back. The air felt too heavy for her to remain a heartbeat longer. She turned and fled from that horrible, grief-ridden room.
“See the truth to set me free." The words were a faint murmur, though perhaps Legion could detect the ethereal whisper. To a human, it would have been nothing more than an abandoned manor's specter.
As Legion spoke, a black shadow moved past him. The shadow solidified, the swirl of dark mass solidifying. It blinked in and out, as if the form was tough to hold, but as he finished his incantation, the churning darkness coalesced, taking the form of a young girl who seemed to shimmer at the edges. She was young — 10 years or so. She had short, cropped black hair and eyes as black as coal. Her skin had a spectral pallor. She wore a loose cotton dress that fell to her knees. She regarded him with melancholy silence at first; then, she seemed to realize he was looking at her. Her image distorted like static on a vintage television before resolving once more. She flinched a little, startled. “You can see me?” None had perceived her, neither her grieving mother nor the consoling priest. But how could she rest? For days, death's reality had eluded her. She could only watch as her mother mourned her passing, overwhelmed with the frustration that she could not understand that she was right there.
With no memory of death, how could she accept her fate?
“My name is Emily. Emily Blackwood," the demon — spirit? — answered in a whisper. Her voice was hoarse, as if it had gathered dust from disuse. "Daughter to Alistair and Bonnie, sister to Duncan and Margaret. They left, but my mother died here. I can't find where she is. I can't leave the grounds. I try, but I can't move past the surrounding gates. An invisible force keeps me here. I'm dead; I know I am. I don't know how I died. I remember water and pain, and the scent of hay." Hay?
“You look like me." She continued. Her voice gained strength, yet retained its ethereal quality. How could she know behind the glasses? Perhaps she sensed he was similar to her. “Woven from the same fabric but by a distinct hand. Does your father make you hide them? Your eyes, I mean. My father made me hide them with magic. It always burned at first but it made me look normal instead of an abomination."
Emily tilted her head. “Did you find anything interesting in the book? I have always sensed it there. Hidden things keep secrets. I could never grasp it. Did it tell you where my mother is? I really miss her. Why are you here, anyway?" The questions flew from her. Legion was likely the first soul she had communicated with in ages. Despite her unsettling gaze, no malevolence marked her. On the contrary, she seemed like an ordinary child, her pallor and dark irises her only distinguishing features.
“Where's your cat? I sense a cat nearby. I really like cats. I had one, once. His name was Percy. His fur was as white as snow." Emily frowned. "Until his fur ran crimson. We laid him to rest in the garden. I miss him, too. He was my best friend."
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