Hi Rist! Can you give us a snippet of the next chapter of tbhtbh? 🙏🏻
I can't give u plot yet. But I can give u death and destruction if you want?
Layla used to tell them so much about her homeworld.
It's brilliant blue skies, it’s crystal clear waters. The gentle currents that would guide the boats of fishers and shellfish farmers from and to their homes; the salty winds that would rustle through palm trees and orchards, bringing rain in the morning and swarms of jewel colored birds in spring.
She used to talk about it with such warmth, such longing, an undying loyalty and love for her home and her people and her duty as their princess. Even when she had raged and resented her parents for the way they'd caged her in, she would have done anything for them. Anything for the vibrant, beautiful kingdom they all loved.
Bloom had never seen its beauty.
The first time she'd stepped foot on Andros had already been the beginning of its end. Even after Council Hall, when they were in dire need of a place to lay low, they never dared to return here.
The realm of the tides never got the chance to recover. The collapsing Omega Portal had robbed Andros of a crucial magical pillar, and when its atmosphere didn’t clear up, its waters didn’t calm and its mermaids were not freed from the monstrous mark on their necks…
It's like an infected body, desperately trying to rid itself of the sickness festering within. Killing itself with its own seizures, its own fever, its own madness. Murky oceans shaping tidal waves, skies heavy with clouds never ceasing their storms, the very earth breaking open and spitting black ash into the air.
They had met travelers two years later who said the fires were still burning.
Still. There's a difference between hearing about it, and seeing it first hand.
The second her feet touch Andros' rust-brown earth, gusts of hot, searing wind start tearing at her hair and her clothes, burning hot against her skin. Salt, sulfur and smoke make her eyes water, her lungs seize; every breath tastes like poison, and hiding her mouth and nose in her sleeve does little to make it more bearable.
When the glow of teleportation subsides and her vision clears, it reveals the full scale of Andros' fate.
Skies like molten iron, bleeding murky rays of sunlight through blackened clouds that seem to glow red from within. Their light is dim and pale compared to the bursts of sickly yellow lightning striking the waves below, over and over again. The horizon is never calm, the twisted branches of electricity reminding her of a nervous system in panic. To the east, lush green jungles have been charred to pitch black fingers reaching skyward. Beyond, red-tipped mountains cough ash and fire into the air.
It's almost beautiful, this deadly display of colors.
For a few seconds, that keeps the horror at bay.
Valtor lands beside her with his usual grace, showing not the smallest sign of discomfort. She can't tear her eyes away from the shaking, shuddering corpse of this kingdom she once knew, so she doesn’t see his expression. But she imagines he must be proud.
A new Domino. Except this time, he can savor its destruction without his pesky, selfish regrets. He's always hated Andros, after all.
“The view never fails to amaze, doesn’t it?”
Valtor makes a swirling gesture with his hands, and the searing wind tearing at her hair lets up. The taste of ash on the air fades as well, and she realizes he's shielding them from the worst of the storm.
Unwilling to yell against it, most likely.
It doesn’t make it easier to answer. For once, she is genuinely speechless.
She turns around to look at him, and finds him already watching her from the corner of his eyes. Almost eagerly, as if awaiting her outrage. Her revulsion.
Whatever he finds in her expression seems to satisfy him, because he smiles and turns his back on her, surveying their surroundings.
“Do you know where we are?”
She does. She knew before they even stepped out of the portal where it would lead them, and she has dreamed of this place often enough to know it blind.
The crumbling stone arches, the single circular structure rising from the sea. Saltwater in her mouth, her nose; her ribs still aching from Icy's blast to her back. A memory so vivid it’s hard to distinguish from reality, for a moment.
“We met here,” she says. Despite the relative silence within his shields, her voice feels small.
If they had known then what would happen, would she and her friends have even come? Surely, whatever damage Andros would have suffered under Valtor's attacks would have been preferable to this. If they had simply stayed at Alfea, hadn’t snuck out and simply acted like the students they still were, it could have all been so different.
Valtor clicks his tongue, chiding.
“We first met on Solaria, dearest. But I'm glad you remember that day.”
He trails his fingers over the rough, salt-encrusted stone of a pillar.
“I think of it often. I'd been dying to meet you again once I knew who you were. The very last princess of Domino, just when I feared there was nothing left of it. 'How often does one get the chance to destroy the same dynasty twice?' I thought. You must have been meant for me, an opponent like no other. Our final battle, your death, only that could mean true victory.”
He smiles to himself. She can tell from the way he inclines his head, the way he speaks, even if she can’t see his face.
“I don’t make a habit of being wrong, but I suppose even I have to admit foolishness, here.”
The wind around them howls, and the spray of harsh waves crashing against their little ruin evaporates against his shield.
His head tilts in her direction, just a little.
“Do you ever miss it?”
He doesn’t have to clarify. She knows exactly what he means.
How they had chased him through the entire dimension, the thrill of combat hot in her veins. Every fight a point to prove, a cocky race to the top, it didn’t even matter if she failed because she got quicker, closer each time. Locking eyes over the blaze of their colliding magic and understanding perfectly how the other felt.
Knowing that she would be his undoing. No matter how long it took, she would be the one to end him. The brilliant, powerful, immortal wizard that not even Omega could hold; she would bring him low.
The simple, reckless single-mindedness of it.
She also remembers that sense of safety. Tecna's shields humming to life around them, Stella's sarcastic little comments there to take the edge off of their numerous close calls. The unwavering certainty that nothing could hurt her, because her friends were there, and once the battle was over they'd go home and sleep it off, huddled together on Stella's giant bed.
“Every day,” she tells him.
Even Valtor, self-serving and arrogant as he may be, can’t ignore what she's really saying.
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