Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sasha groaned as the slow-rising agony thumped through her skull. She reached back and flinched from the warm, stickiness matting her hair. The first thing she did was reach for her sword, which had landed a few feet away from her. She weakly stretched out her left arm, clawing desperately for the blade but it was still inches beyond reach. Clutching her bleeding shoulder, she dragged her skinned knees against the cracked floor while her sore hands bled and her body begged for mercy, but she never gave in. She moved slow, painfully slow but eventually, the tips of her fingers touched the blade. She pulled the sword to her and firmly stabbed it into the ground, using it as a crutch to hoist herself to her feet. Her legs swayed and her vision swam but she was finally able to stand. 

Once she was on her feet, she scoured around for Grime, hoping the bulky shadow would stand out against the blurred shapes. She attempted to call for him but her dry lips choked on blood, and all that escaped was a low whisper.

Then she saw it. An ink stain amongst the silver floor. It wasn't noticeable at first with Andrias’ impending form towering over it, concealing most of the scene, but the instant she saw the outstretched arm limp on its side and a messy tussle of raven black hair, a sickening realization dawned on her. 

“MARCY!”

She yanked the sword from the floor and stumbled to her feet. Bruised knees hit the ground as a heavy, garbled cry escaped her lips.

The blonde's fumbling brain tried to make sense of the huge gash in the girl's back, but her hands hovered unsurely. Blood gushed out, puddling around them and staining her already crimson armor. She scrunched Marcy’s cloak into a ball and pressed it firmly to the wound. The fabric was soaked in an instant along with Sasha’s trembling hands, yet the blood didn’t stop. Marcy retched a horrific cough, red saliva dribbling from her parted lips. 

“S-sash…” She rasped, voice consisting of nails and sandpaper. 

“Shut up,” Sasha commanded, uselessly trying to stop the bleeding. “Don’t speak. Just... Just hang on.” 

She kept her eyes centered at the gaping hole in Marcy’s stomach. Her brain told her that no one could possibly survive an injury like that. She told it to fuck off. Marcy coughed again, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

Meanwhile, Andrias’ presence loomed behind them. Curious how he hadn’t tried to stop her yet. Maybe the psychopath just wanted to see her futile struggle to save a life that was already damned. Well, screw him. Sasha was not one to believe in ‘blind hope,’ but in this single instance, she was certain of two things: Marcy would be carried safely out of here, on her bare shoulders if she must, and come the next morning, her sword would be mounting the Evil Newt King’s head.

“I’m... s-s-sorr--, Marcy spoke again before being cut off by another horrific cough. She reached for the other’s hand but was too weak to grip it. Sasha held it gently, rubbing her thumb over Marcy’s knuckles. The girl’s skin grew colder by the second.

“I said shut up!” Sasha hollered, but the wavering timbre in her voice made it sound less demanding and more of a plea. “For Frog’s sake Marcy, stop apologizing. I’m going to get you outta here, got that? You’re going to be okay.” 

She continued applying pressure to the open wound, yet the chances of Marcy getting out of this alive were growing slimmer with every weak breath she took.

“Sorry…” Marcy’s voice grew softer, breathy. She was speaking in cycles almost delusionally. Her eyes rolled back and her chest deflated as the last vestiges of oxygen departed her lungs.

“Marcy!” Sasha shrieked, lightly shaking the limp body. Marcy’s form thumped against the ground with the heavy thud of a rolled-up carpet, and Sasha glared through the burning tears fogging her eyes.

“Marcy, answer me, damn it!” 

The figure remained silent.

“Don’t ignore me, asshole. Say something!” 

Sasha brought a trembling hand to her mouth, lone tears slipping down her cheekbones, silently begging for any hint of movement.

Nothing.

Her body slumped forwards and she sat back on her heels, silently sobbing into her palm. The walls grew higher and the air around her squeezed her throat shut. Marcy’s form was thin and beautiful, the fur cloak draped across her body in a tragic memoriam. Time flew to a standstill and Sasha’s body shut down, feeling detached from itself like a ghost drifting aimlessly in the air.

A deep sigh reverberated through the throne room and the hairs on her neck stirred like a mountain lion hunting its quarry. Molars clenched and manicured fingernails bit into flesh. 

“How unfortunate,” he lamented. “She made for such a promising scapegoat. I was even considering making her my successor.” Andria’s mournful tone hit Sasha like a wave of bullets.

“You.” she breathed, fingers curled tightly around the hilt of her sword.

“You bastard!” She gripped it and sliced the air. “I’ll fucking murder you!” With her target acquired, she raised the sword high above her head and lunged for his neck.

Andrias shifted a few steps to the right ( which to Sasha was several feet) and she missed by a mile. She tumbled over herself, slamming into the wall. A deep-throated chuckle ruptured through the castle and she raced him again. “You humans are awfully tenacious creatures.”

The acid in Sasha's stomach boiled at his mention of them like some type of exotic species and not the innocent people he willingly slaughtered.

She brought the sword down again, this time slashing his leg. Andrias hissed in pain and flicked her like a gnat, sending her into a pillar. Sasha’s beaten body was growing weaker with mass-energy extorted but she kept trying to rise to her feet.

”Are you done yet?” The King said with an exasperated sigh, addressing the teenager as if she were a bratty toddler throwing a temper tantrum. “This game is growing tiring.”

Game? Sasha’s stomach churned. She now understood why Marcy was so fond of Andrias. He approached perilous activities as if they were fun challenges to be won, presented himself openly with a lack of caution, treated nothing seriously, and viewed his opponents as toys for his own personal enjoyment. Their suffering was merely inconsequential to him. 

Marcy was inconsequential to him.

She raised the sword again, only for it to clang beside her. Her bruised shoulders ached under the weight and she could barely swing it anymore. Andrias towered above her, his fiery sword ablaze. She tried to push up with her hands, but they gave way and she fell to the ground. Her sole intention to dodge his every attack was growing vainer by the second.

Sasha squeezed her eyes as the blade came down, but the familiar clang of metal against armor snapped them back open.

“Sasha go!” Grime shouted, the vibrant magenta glow of Barrel’s war hammer illuminating behind him. He brought the weapon down upon the King’s tail and the newt spun around with a roar.

Sasha staggered to her feet, crawling out of the line of fire. After a few steps, she stumbled and her knees buckled. Even walking became difficult. Her ears were ringing and the fuzziness proved it difficult to distinguish the various sounds swarming her senses. The battle between Andrias and Grime continued in the background though her brain barely registered it, too coupled with pain and disorientation.

That is... until a sudden, sharp pained cry cut through the chaos.

Her eyes shot to the far corner of the room where a now wounded Grime writhed in agony, the war hammer still in his grasp. His leg was twisted at an odd angle and displayed a grisly gash cauterized and starting to scab over. The armor around the wound was molten from where the blade had cut through. Two robots had their weapons aimed for fire and the monarch stood over him brandishing his sword, prepared to strike.

The older toad was fighting with every bone in his body, but a single spark of panic and fear flashed through his eye. It was a look she had seen before, when Yunan attacked them in the countryside, when Andrias blasted the North Toad Tower, and now, when they were on their last breaths in an epic battle with the King of Amphibia.

Something in Sasha snapped and the barrel of confidence and defiance was lost. Her eyes searched frantically for a way out, but all exits were blocked (soldiers barricading every corner) until they caught the reflection in the blade, and the sight sunk in her gut. Her paisley skin was littered with scars and dark bruises, her disheveled hair drenched with sweat and sticking to the side of her face, and the candid look of resolve and terror in her eyes. 

She didn’t resemble the soldier that could maneuver her way through a minefield and wield two swords with the finesse of marching band sticks. That person was nowhere to be found, instead replaced by this sniveling, weak display of a spoiled brat whose only companion was her own pride and ego. 

She had spent her entire life wringing people for every last ounce of sympathy they had. She batted her long eyelashes and wore honey dripped grins. People used to gape in awe at the sheer ability to snap her fingers and make others bend to her will.

You expect me to believe you?! After all the lying and manipulating you’ve done?

I say you’re clearly insane if you think you’re going to bully me and everyone else just to get what you want!

You’re a horrible person and I am Done. Being. Friends with you!

The words were long said, already forgotten with the chaos that ensued afterward, but the ferocity of Anne’s venomous tongue was still apparent, even in her memories. It came at her in a hailstorm of bullets, wedging itself between the chinks in her armor and sinking deep into her heart. Two fingers reached up and traced down the trophy of her victory at Toad Tower, a patch of raised skin left from the scar painted on her cheek. Painted by Anne just as the words. No honey, no sugar, nothing left of their friendship but blood and betrayal. 

The triumphant cheers of the Saint James middle schoolers, that Sasha once reveled in, might as well have been specks of dust. Triumphs turned to ash. Her battle against the herons, her successes at the third temple, her siege on Newtopia - all empty victories, all meaningless endeavors. And now, her worst fears were coming to fruition. Dear Anne was gone, rid of her disgusting excuse for a friend, sweet Marcy died in vain, still clutching onto the naive belief that Sasha was a good person inside, and foolish Grime was about to sacrifice himself for someone so undeserving of said loyalty. Each one had placed their trust in her and paid dearly for it. And soon she would be alone, eternally crushed under the weight of her sins.

There was only one action left.

“STOP!”

The sword halted within inches of the veteran’s face, hot enough to scar.

All eyes averted to the center of the throne room, where Sasha stood breathing heavily. Her arm was broken, blood seeped from the loose cuts covering her body, and she was bent forward, placing most of the pressure on her right foot while she kept her left elevated.

She dropped to her knees and her sword clattered to the floor. “I surrender.”

Andrias’s head cocked to the side and he stalked towards Sasha, giving Grime time to rise to his feet. He raised his sword in a threatening motion but the blonde did not flinch nor raise her hands to fight. She stayed in her position on the ground, head hung so low, her face was flush with the floor. 

She was completely at the King’s mercy. And she knew it.

The king smiled at that and lowered himself to her level. “That’s more like it,” he commended,  “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect you to give in so easily.” 

With her head down, she could feel the weight of his eyes and cold smile. Burning, burning iron against her skin.

“You won, alright. Don’t kill him.”

“And why is that? Neither of you poses a threat to me. And now you’re both at my mercy. Why shouldn’t I take this wondrous opportunity to finish off my foes?”

Sasha slowly lifted her eyes, narrowed and determined. “Because... you need me.” 

Andrias looked bemused.

“I know who you are.” Sasha continued, finally pushing herself off the floor.

“Is that so?” A playful smile cracked across his features, any traces of warmth replaced by a sadistic sneer.

Sasha nodded. “The others didn’t. They only saw you as a lovable ruler with too much time on his hands to help a bunch of humans in need. Well, I’m not so naive. I can see the face behind the mask. You claim benevolence but you’re ruthless, a ruler of the ages. Your name precedes you as does your power. You want your subjects to grovel and beg at your feet. I can make that happen.”

For the first time in her life, it hurt to brag. She knew she was running her mouth at this point, but it was her only weapon left. Andrias was actually listening now and had assumed a more comfortable position upon the floor.

“Back on earth, I had people licking out of my hand. Here, I was able to mold a group of pathetic wimps into a formidable army. And let's not forget that my siege on the city almost succeeded.”

The king’s smirk dropped and she figured she hit a nerve. Good, knock him down a few pegs. 

She gestured over to Grime who was still held at gunpoint by Andrias’ robots.

“Let us go and we’ll return to the towers, reassemble the armies in your name, and deal with anyone who refuses to fall in line. We’ll proclaim your glory across the nation. You’ll be revered.”

It sounded like a pretty sweet deal to be honest, even if it was a load of horseshit. And had she been a complete moron, maybe would have agreed to it herself. Manipulators are rather easy marks in that regard. Appeal to one’s ego and its sheep to slaughter.

Andrias stared for a moment before bellowing out a hardy laugh. The sound caused shivers up Sasha’s spine. “Hah, you really think I’ll believe that a human child can do all that?”

“This child nearly usurped the throne and if it weren’t for that pestering Anne (her heart squeezed at that), would’ve succeeded. You have two choices here, Andrias.” 

The newt raised an eyebrow at her informal address.

“Become my ally or my enemy. But if you kill me, you’ll just be painting a target on your back. You’re not the only one with loyal followers, you know? These morons worship me like a god. Any ill will towards me is signing your death certificate.”

Sasha stared him down with enough force to tear down a steel door. Andrias hummed and tapped an index finger against his frazzled beard. Seems he was actually considering her offer.

“Interesting proposition,” He mused before a sly grin crawled up his face. “But let me give you a better one. Stay with me, serve as my general, and help me conquer the human realm.” 

“And why would I dare agree to this?”

“I assume you want your little friend to live, don’t you?”

Sasha’s eyes widened and slowly trailed over to Marcy’s body. She tried to hide the glint of anxious hope, but she knew it was leaking through her gaze. She looked back to the king, even more confused.

“I told you before that Marcy is a useful asset,” he said, reading her silent question. “I have ways to resuscitate her but I must be sure that no one will attempt to intervene with my plans. Pledge yourself and she will be your responsibility. As long as she is under your care, no more harm will come to her.”

She looked back up at him, searching for any sign of deception but his expression was genuine. Sasha bit her lip and ran through her options.

She had none.

“You already have a general, don’t you? Why do you need me?”

Andrias sighed. “Yunan is weak. I saw the doubt in her eyes when I revealed my plans. She is unfit to lead an invasion. But you!” He looked back to her with a lively glint, a bright toothy smile gleaming through the shadows. “You sought power and respect. You didn’t cower when I dealt my hand. And even with your defenses gone, you still fight me.”

She looked back to Grime then to Marcy, her heart thudding in her ribcage. The giant king’s expression softened and he took both of her trembling hands in his.

“Come now, isn’t this what you desired? Power and control? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He finished cheekily.

Sasha reared back at the platitude. He must have heard it from Marcy for even the Plantars didn’t know what a horse was. That made her stomach churn even more. Once again, her eyes fell upon Marcy and a wave of exhaustion fell over her. She leveled the newt with a heavy glare. 

“Deal.”

“Splendid.” He snapped his fingers and the robots around them lowered their guns. Immediately, Grime rushed to her, his bad leg dragging behind.

“Get rid of him, quickly.” Andrias hissed in her ear. “His vibe doesn’t mesh well.” With a raised chin, he marched away, hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Sasha sunk to the ground, coughing from the strain in her lungs as Grime came to her side. 

“Sasha,” he cried in a worried gasp. “Are you hurt?”  He fussed over her like a concerned parent, eyeing every scrape. 

Sasha pushed him away with a gruff, “I’m fine.”

The one-eyed soldier growled. “That wretched Andrias will pay twice for this. No one lays a hair on my lieutenant.” 

“Grime, get out of here,” Sasha said through panting gasps. Her chest was heaving so hard, it was a miracle she could still speak. 

Grime stared in horror. “What…” 

“Andrias agreed to let you live, but I’m not sure for how long. This is your chance, go.

“No!” Grime fired back. “No way in hell am I leaving you here with that monster.”

“Grime, please. He won’t kill me but he will kill you. He’s giving you a free pass, take it!”

“Sasha…” Grime’s eyes brimmed with tears. She had rarely seen the old toad cry, usually when he was drunk off his Bog Grog, or on an acid trip about his childhood and daddy issues, or whatever. Here though the tears shone of genuine sadness and Sasha’s own eyes were welling up.

“Tick tock, Sasha.” The King’s low voice spoke from nearby. “My generosity is limited.”

She latched forward, gripping his upper arms and staring straight into his hardened, warty face. “Please!” She violently shook him, her nails digging into his arms. “I can’t lose you too!”

Grime’s jaw went slack. Sasha was still staring at him with that desperate look. Grime gave her a stare, one that bore through her soul, the vestiges of tears evident and humanity glimmering in his one natural eye.

“I will not abandon you, Sasha. I’ll be back,” he promised, squeezing her hand before slugging towards the shattered window. The robots picked him up and carried him away. Their eyes stayed latched on one another until he finally vanished behind the stone frame. 

A sob bubbled in the back of Sasha’s throat and she was on the verge of screaming, but she shoved it all down.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind and her form was quickly shrouded by a dark shadow.

“Well, Sasha, was it? Shall we?”

Marcy’s eyes fluttered open, the barren walls of the castle infirmary flooding her vision. She attempted to sit up but the lower half of her body protested, thus resulting in her propping her palms beneath her. The synapses of her brain were frayed and her memory was foggy, yet she could still feel the burning sensations through the center of her chest. King Andrias’ gleeful face quickly came into view and she shivered, tugging the blanket tight around her shoulders. Her eyes trailed down her middle, seeing she was dressed in a hospital gown and covered in thick bandages from the waist up. The room was empty, spare for a couple of stray furniture; there was no soul in sight.

She slowly peeled herself from the bed, her body plastered to it with sweat. Her legs were tight and numb like a wound-up spring and it seemed it had been weeks since she used them. Still, she managed to stand, albeit with difficulty, and grabbed a discarded tunic which was flung over one of the chairs before quietly exiting the room.

She shuffled down the hallways, gripping the sides of the walls for balance as her legs threatened to give out from under her. Her feet felt like cinder blocks, and she strained, using all her energy just to take a single step. Everything was deathly still and quiet as if the confrontation with Andrias had been but a passing nightmare. And for a brief moment, Marcy even debated it was. But the pounding in her torso convinced her she didn’t just make this up.

Her heart raced in tandem with her quickening footsteps as she glanced frantically down each corridor for the terrifying newt king and his massive sword of flames. Before Amphibia, she would have found the prospect exhilarating - fleeing for your life from an otherworldly being. It was a perfect premise for 3D platformers. But playing a game console and experiencing it IRL were two entirely different things and now she wished she had never known the latter.

When it seemed she would faint from all the hyperventilating, a sea of muffled voices in the distance drew her further down the hall. Curiously, she followed them straining her ears to see if she could recognize anyone. It was mostly a clustered ambiance of gibberish overlapping each other with only a few voices sounding familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint any of them yet. 

They led into a wide sitting room outside the foyer.

Marcy peaked out from behind a large pillar. Thanks to everything being scaled at Andrias’s height, it was the ultimate hiding place for a human. The young ranger heaved several trembling breaths as she tried to compose her thoughts and formulate a proper escape plan.

“Ugh, must we go through this again? Our weapons need to be light and practical so we can wield them with ease. Like this.”

A sharp whoosh of air as the sound of duel swords spinning was heard.

“The decorative and flashy ones you have here will only slow us down.”

Marcy froze, every muscle turning to stone as a wave of emotions, happy then confused then nervous and then horrified, raced through her.

That voice. The one she heard calling to her down the street about ditching her studies and letting loose for a few hours, the beautiful sarcasm in it whenever she got a little too into her info dumps, the hard edge when someone had foolishly decided to pick on either her or Anne. It was colder, devoid of the buttery smooth tone, and the pitch was lower and more resolved. But it was her.

Marcy searched the crowd again, ready to rush out and swoop her friend into a crushing hug. 

Until she caught sight of a terrifying figure dressed in black armor. Per Newtopian military, she was dawning the royal insignia upon her chest - a symbol of devotion and loyalty to the crown. Two things Marcy would never consider Sasha to be. Her shoulder pads consisted of metal ammonite shells lined by sharp spikes, making the appearance all the more threatening, and the armor was sleek and formfitting. In another circumstance, Marcy would have found the new style appealing. But unfortunately, it was the other features that concerned her.

The girl’s form was thinner, showing bony arms and sunken cheeks. Her elegant heart-shaped face came to a jagged point like the twin swords sheathed at her side. Marcy took a double-take. The person before her assumed years of age, no longer bearing any resemblance to the peppy thirteen-year-old that dominated the halls of Saint James. The silky blonde waves were gone, severed at the nape of her neck. Her hair had lost its luster and was starting to fall out in several areas. Sparkly eyeshadow replaced by dark bags, showing a series of sleepless nights. She was rigid, almost mechanical, as were her movements. 

Marcy tried to announce her arrival but every word disintegrated on her tongue. Her knees twitched, suddenly desperate to flee and she debated turning on heel and running back through the castle before anyone noticed her appearance. That turned to be a fool’s errand for the instant she was distracted by her thoughts, Sasha had spotted her through the crowd. Their eyes met, striking into each other like an arrow for a few beats. Her eyes blinked repeatedly while Sasha’s remained focused and unwavering, locked on their target. Marcy soon faltered, putting an end to the staring contest, and glancing down at her sides. She hated intense eye contact. 

Sasha muttered something to the guards and then started cutting across the room to Marcy. Her movements were terrifyingly perfect: vertical spine, head held high, and eyes pointed forward in the way of a military official. It was custom for her to walk with a dangerous elegance that elicited a combination of fear and awe. However, where her movements before were graceful, here they seemed robotic. Her pivoted toes were flat and rigid, and her face was so pale and emotionless, it was as if she was a ghost. Her eyes never left Marcy’s, but as she grew closer. Marcy could see the vacant distance in them staring through her - like trying to see through a fogged window. She struggled not to flinch.

“How are you feeling?”

Marcy blinked, the casualty in Sasha’s question catching her off guard. She looked down and placed a light palm against her chest. “Better. It still stings a bit.”

Sasha nodded. “They mentioned that. You’ve been out for a while. It’ll probably take a few more weeks until it’s healed.”

“Sasha, I don’t understand. Where’s Andrias? Is… Is he dead?” Marcy looked up with a flickering hint of hope. 

Is that why Sasha had assumed such a powerful position? Was she now the queen of Newtopia? Marcy would never condone such an egregious act, but even she recognized Andrias was corrupt and well, the only way to topple a broken government and rebuild it from scratch, was for its leader to fall.

Sasha clearly expressed her desire to rule. Perhaps they could work together to establish a new government for Amphibia. Monarchies were deemed flawed systems for a reason. Sasha could still be in a position of power, but something less oppressive such as an ambassador or governor. 

Before Marcy could become swept in her eager thoughts of politics, she noticed Sasha’s somber expression and heard the heavy sigh that followed. 

“No, Marcy…” Sasha whispered, with a small shake of her head. “He’s not.”

And just like that, all of Marcy’s hopes were dashed and an unspoken fear swam to the surface.

“Then why are you still here…?”

Sasha turned her body, tightening the grip on the hilt of her sword. “I had to make sure you were alright.”

Marcy opened her mouth to ask for further clarification but was interrupted by the low voice of a toad soldier adorning royal armor. “General Sasha, the committee is ready for you.”

“Tell them, I’ll be there in a minute.” The toad saluted and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Sash…” Marcy said uneasily, taking a tentative step backward. “What's going on?”

“We’re planning an invasion. Anne still has access to the stone and Andrias needs it to power the music box. '' The insouciance in Sasha’s tone was truly frightening as if she was remarking on the weather and not planning to capture and torture her former friend.

“What? No, you can’t!” Marcy blurted. Her hands latched onto Sasha’s gloved arm, a physical appeal to her cold heart, hoping to drag that small bit of rational kindness she knew still brimmed through it.

Sasha turned to her with a deadly glare, the weight of a million icicles. 

“I have to Marce,” she said sternly.  There was no remorse or empathy behind her eyes, just a cold vacant void that dug into Marcy.

Marcy held on though, her desire to reach Sasha outweighing the fear of challenging her.

“Why?” She begged, chipped nails tearing through the leather. “Why are you doing this?”

“For you!’”

The sheer force of her voice flung Marcy backward and startled her enough to let go. “I’m doing it for you!” 

Marcy flinched away, her mouth opening but her words failing. “But…”

“Andrias said he’d only agree to heal you if I swore allegiance.”

Marcy’s words fumbled in her throat. “N-No,” she ground out through trembling lips. Her eyes shifted to her hands which were balled into fists and shaking. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

“Well, what did you want, huh?” Sasha demanded. “For us all to be trapped in this god-awful world so you could be the world's best LARPer?”

“No…”

“For Anne to hate my guts and not want anything more to do with me?” Sasha was fuming, her eyes flicking rapidly with blood and heat rushing to her cheeks. Every step she took caused Marcy to be backed up against the wall.

“Or how about you getting literally stabbed in the back by a sociopathic tyrant that any half-brain could see was obviously playing you?!” 

Each accusation was a dagger to Marcy’s guilty conscience and the last one twisted so deep, it caused a pained yelp to escape her.

Marcy felt her heart plummet. Tears ran in rivers down her cheeks. “Sasha, I'm sorry…”

“Yeah, well it’s too late for that,” Sasha spat through grinding teeth.

Her fists shook madly by her sides. Any act of composure from before was lost, her entire body now housing a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I agreed to Andrias’ plan because I wanted to.” She jabbed a finger against her chest and then into Marcy’s. “Because I didn't want to watch you DIE!!!

It was as if a vacuum had sucked all the air out of Marcy’s body. She felt every last ounce of energy drain from it and had to keep herself from collapsing to the floor. The blonde’s eyes were blazing, full of hate fire, but the light revealed tears in the corners. Eventually, her ire diminished and she pulled away, leaving Marcy in stunned silence.

“Now go rest up. You’re still healing.”

Sasha turned and headed back towards the crowd while Marcy stood still, feeling like she had been punched in the gut. Her mind screamed at her. Rational thought advised her to listen to reason and walk away. In the past, that part would have dominated and she’d obey it with nary a doubt. But that was before she fell to the King’s ploy and she was not so submissive.

“Sasha, wait!”

She ran over and clasped her on the shoulder. Sasha’s form stayed rigid, not reacting to the soft touch. “Marcy, let go.”

Marcy shook her head, face flushed with tears. “No,” she insisted. “Not until we talk.”

“Leave. Don’t make me force you.”

Perhaps it was her newfound confidence from Amphibia or the fact that wrestling with the hands of death makes any risk a walk in the park, but she stood her ground, sending Sasha a message that she would not leave until her questions were answered.

Sasha glanced at her once before raising her head.

“Yunan!” 

The aforementioned newt soldier soon appeared at Sasha's side, hand raised in a salute. 

“Here, my general.”

Marcy noticed her bright ruby-colored skin was duller as was her armor. The medals of honor she wore were gone; she had been stripped of her rank. The brash confidence in her gaze was missing, helpless obedience in its place. Her stance was no longer proud and flamboyant, and her voice was steady and deprived of the thunderous energy it used to carry.

When her eyes fell upon Marcy, they widened, looking as if she had seen a ghost. A series of questions hid behind her professional disposition, but she kept her mouth shut and remembered her place. Marcy could tell she was begging to speak and Marcy had so much to say to her too.

“Master Wu here is unwell and demands rest,” said Sasha. “See to it that she is taken care of.”

The look of astonishment on Marcy’s face had caused a few worried lines to form on the former general’s brow, but she stood to attention. “Right away, sir.”

Seemingly satisfied, Sasha began to march away but paused in her tracks as Marcy called her.

“Sasha, I’m your friend. How can you turn me away like this?”

Marcy waited a heated beat for Sasha to process the question, before she turned her head slightly, giving Marcy a chilling glare. The words that followed struck the ranger to her very core.

“Easily.”

Marcy’s breath hitched and she watched Sasha briskly walk all the way across the room and through a pair of double doors.

When she was gone, Yunan extended an arm and supported Marcy as she led her through the halls.

“Can’t believe she did that,” the teen mumbled to herself.

“Forgive the general. She means well, but she’s still coping with things.”

“Yunan, what happened?”

The newt warrior's steps slowed, her gaze still pointed forward. “The general asked me not to say anything,” she replied.

Marcy was still leaning against the salamander’s shoulder but pulled back enough to look into her eyes.

“Look, you know I won’t be able to focus unless I have all the details. I need to know,” Marcy begged, and Yunan did indeed understand that the looming curiosity in the human child was enough to kill.

Marcy was persistent and would resort to any means in order to acquire the knowledge she sought. Mortal injury or no, she was still an experienced chief ranger and had access to every private sanction in the castle. Sasha's orders were strong but paled in comparison to Marcy’s expansive mind.

Yunan sighed and leaned against the wall. “You were in critical condition for several weeks. During that time, Sasha designated herself to watch over you. It was a miracle for any of us to get her to eat or sleep. She refused to leave your side for anything.”

Marcy mulled over the words. Sasha had always been the protective one in their group. She fought off bullies and acted as a physical safety net for her and Anne, as they navigated their way through the social minefields of clique culture and pubescent teen hormones. Sometimes she was a bit too oppressive, but the intention was always there, that’s all that mattered. 

“Eventually you awoke,” Yunan continued.

Marcy blinked. She pressed a hand against her face, trying to breathe through the thumping buzz in her brain. Her memories were super faded. “I don’t remember that.” She hummed.

“It was only a few seconds; your eyes were barely open and you slept for another fortnight afterward. But the small hint that you were alive was a miracle to Sasha.”

“I noticed that she cut her hair.”

“Claimed it was too long for battle. There is some truth to that statement as I may so demonstrate.” 

Yunan gestured to her mohawk-like hairdo which still had a striking element of coolness. The first time Marcy saw it, she said she wanted to do the same to her own hair one day. Now she wasn’t so sure of that.

“It’s very different,” Marcy commented.

“So is the general.”

The rest of the walk was quiet, not that Marcy wanted to hear anymore. The information she wa provided with was too much for her to take in and would keep her awake for several nights.

They arrived at a large chamber in the upper tower. It was darkly painted and contained a large crimson bed with a black coral structure framing it. The wall above hung a disgusting portrait of Sasha and King Andrias, with the king’s hand resting on her shoulder. He wore a wide joyous smile that looked so genuine it made Marcy gag, but Sasha wore the most soulless look - the eyes of a corpse.

A shiver traced down the girl’s spine.

She strode over to the window and looked out at the once peaceful Newtopian streets. Bustling crowds of eager innovative minds and purpose were now empty. The magnificent gilded, industrial city resembled that of a ghost town with only a few stragglers keeping their heads down and scuttling through the streets. Newtopian military personnel and robots were flanking every house and every public area. Walking around the city without being caught was a fool’s errand.

“I’ll be stationed down the hall,” Yunan said. “Alert me if you need anything.”

“You’re locking me in here.”

Marcy’s blunt tone had thrown the newt for a moment. She turned to her with a heavy gaze, a dead acceptance etched in her eyes.

Yunan’s gaze softened and she tried to give Marcy a look of assurance. 

“Only for a while. The general wants to ensure you are not disturbed during your recovery. She’ll release you once you’re healed.”

“You really believe that?”

Yunan stared for a moment with her mouth, slightly agape, but closed it and remained silent.

Having received her answer, Marcy turned her heavy eyes back to the window. 

The newt’s presence lingered in the doorway for a minute longer than it should have and Marcy knew she was sending her a remorseful glance. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about this,” said Yunan before disappearing through the door.

Marcy watched as the shadow on the floor shrunk back and heard the click of a key in the lock. She waited a few minutes, raising her ear to the sky for any sign of Yunan’s return. When the coast seemed clear, she leapt into action. First, she ripped the sheets off the bed, twisting them into a rope. Then she tied one end to the post and the other around her waist, before carefully crawling outside the window. Her knees still quaked, but she managed to find a foothold. 

Hanging off the side of the wall, she caught sight of the blood-red sunset cast over the bay. A golden aura bathing the mountains in a gentle glow. She had seen a similar scene during her first night in Amphibia and could simply not imagine anything more breathtaking. Now that memory, much like the others, was tainted. 

Her eyes were drawn to an overcast of clouds coming in, and her mind drifted to Anne. They used to watch them together -- no rhyme or reason to it. Just lie on the soft patches of grass and point up in the sky, shouting out random shapes. Sasha thought it was lame and usually sat out, but Anne found the recreational activity humoring and always wanted to do it with Marcy. 

Their relationship was likely strained now, destroyed by her foolish ignorance and stupid mistakes. But that didn’t matter. Anne was in trouble, at risk of being drained of the stone, and Marcy was the only person left to warn her.

She drew in a deep breath, placed her thumb and forefinger between her lips, and blew.

Chapter Text

Sasha owed Grime an apology. Leading a military coup was a shit job. 

Give the toads some credit. They were idiots for sure, but at least they kept their damn mouths shut and stayed in their place as good little soldiers. These newts were nothing more than opinionated, pompous know it all‘s -- always putting in their two cents, even when it wasn’t warranted (and it was never warranted). What was worse is that their idea of war and conquest was completely backward. Unsurprising given they had the worse excuse for a tyrant. Disregarding his over-the-top cliche villain act, Andrias was a bonafide idiot when it came to battle tactics.

Despite her age, the teenager was an expert on effective war strategies. Grime had thought it essential to have the newest commander be a key part of making all battle decisions. Sasha had once voiced (rather boldly, I may add) her feelings about being the lead officiator for the Toad army. 

The old toad’s voice hung in her mind like a recurring tumor, rearing its ugly head when she was alone with her thoughts. It happened too much nowadays.

“Patience Lieutenant. Your climb to rank will come in time, but be warned, leading a group such as this one, will leave you bald.”

Now she really wished he was here with her. One scowl from Grime’s stone face and these bitches would pipe down in an instant. Together they had made an infallible team with Sasha’s manipulative influence and Grime’s threats. She wondered about him from time to time. It only came as a relief that no one mentioned finding the seasoned captain. The knowledge that her best friend was still in hiding was the one thing in this world that gave her peace of mind.

“Hold it right there.”

Sasha’s gaze turned to a speckled newt strapped in bulbous armor. It hung loose on him and his limbs fell limply out the sides. He glowered at her through a pair of glasses, craning his neck to see over the table. It was pathetic.

“Why are we only keeping to the surface? Wouldn’t it be more practical to attack from above?”

She dragged a hand down her face for the millionth time that day. The dry, pimply skin was already peeling and her previous love of moisturizer became a long-past necessity.

“As already stated, airborne attacks are compromised. We have plenty of militaries invading the skies. They do not come on giant ravenous birds with bows and arrows. They have thick metal bullets that will tear into your flesh. A more subtle attack will ensure victory.”

The room voiced their objections. And eventually, after a millennium of this bullshit, Sasha left to patrol the castle halls. 

Back at Grime's Tower, she learned the ins and outs of every corner to the point she could map out the entire area in her sleep - and that only took her two weeks. She had been in this palace for months and still got lost. But this room she knew quite well, for she had visited it every single night, on her knees praying to some deity that the person inside was still alive. So it was no surprise that her footsteps had subconsciously brought her here. If only her brain had told them its former resident wasn’t there anymore.

She stared inside, taking in an invisible scene: an empty bed with sheets splayed across. They had been repeatedly stained with blood and needed changing. A body, a limp body, the only remnants of life coming from the staggering rise and fall of their chest. And in a small instance, (so slight, she wondered if she had dreamt it) dim brown eyes gazing up at her, a single cry from their lips, before closing again. The moment when she had truly felt weak in the knees.

She pulled away when she came face to face with a deep scowl. The prestigious woman Sasha had come to know as Lady Olivia, was ironing out the wrinkles in her skirt.

Sasha crossed her arms. “So, is stalking and standing awkwardly in doorways part of your duties now?”

The steward did not react to the teenager’s crude tone and raised her head proudly. “If you proceed to treat her as a prisoner, she won't have reason to trust you,” she said plainly.

Sasha scoffed, turning away to face the empty infirmary. “I don’t need advice from my friend’s patronizing newt mother. I know what I’m doing.”

The newt tilted her head to the side. “Is that so?”

“Lest you forget, Marcy is my responsibility. I’m only looking out for her.”

A hum. “And you’re certain this is the best way to go about that?”

Sasha sucked in a heavy breath of air, her voice tapering. “Whatever it takes...”

Lady Olivia nodded and turned on her heel. “Follow me.”

Sasha definitely did not want to follow her, but the stern calmness in the elder’s tone left no room for discussion. Plus, if she refused, she’d have to go back to those imbecilic soldiers and she'd rather eat roach eggs than deal with them again. So she swallowed her pride and followed suit. 

Aviation in Amphibia was a prominent skill that required extensive knowledge of aerodynamics, ornithology, and practical training. Fortunately for her, Marcy’s high marks in her AP physics and biology classes made her a perfect candidate for the position. Although flight craft was initially modeled after a bird’s wing structure, the art of piloting one was a vastly different concept.

During the first few weeks of her training, Marcy had flown every species of bird imaginable, ranging from brants to swallows. But songbirds had specific flight patterns that did not allow for delays or detours. Being a veteran bird, Joe was quite adept at long-distance flights. Once Marcy flew him fifteen hundred miles in the span of three days. That journey had demonstrated to her the importance of pit stops and breaks, both for herself and Joe. And she made sure to remember that as they were running for their lives.

Fleeing the castle unscathed was a bit of a hassle. Andrias’s robots had nearly intercepted them, but Joe’s swift dives and wing strokes had won them a narrow escape. Marcy’s crossbow and phone, as well as her essential belongings, were still in the palace. And with such a long journey in front of them, she would need to gather some emergency supplies. She hadn’t expected the emergency would involve being a fugitive and committing treason, but she supposed that was all hearsay now.

Given her complicated history with the King, her line of trust was limited. Most were far too loyal to the crown to lend a traitor refuge, but she knew a couple who would not hesitate to do so.

The sparrow ducked under the sliver of moonlight, touching down at the edge of a glade near a little ma and pa shop. Marcy had come across the mercantile village on one of her missions. Since it lay directly on the outskirts of Newtopia, it was the perfect place to hunker down without fear of being caught.

She instructed Joe to hide in the bushes. “Back in a jiffy, boy.” 

She walked around back and rapped softly on the door. After a second of silence, she knocked a bit harder, this time eliciting a response from inside. There was a patter of feet, mumbled protests, and a collection of soft clangs and dings from objects being shuffled about, followed by a tired, nasally voice.

“Coming, coming.”

The door creaked open, revealing a speckled newt with a tweed waistcoat and spectacles at the tip of his muzzle, complete with disheveled hair tucked into a cap. 

“You know we’re not open until..." His drowsy eyes widened. "Marcy?!”

The newt was struck silent, mouth slowly falling open and eyes blinking rapidly.

“Hi, Caius. Sorry to bug you at this hour, but I didn’t know where else to turn.”

The shop owner had stopped listening and was shaking his head while muttering, “No, no, no, Marcy. I don’t want no trouble, hear me? Don’t want it, don’t need it. I don’t do confrontations or complications.” He finished with an adamant stamp of his foot that gave off no sound.

Marcy waited until the salamander had retreated into the dark shop before slipping in after him. The door carefully shut behind her. She rose her palms as a sign of truce. “Easy, I’m not here to cause trouble. I need a few supplies for our journey and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

The skittish newt looked about to retort when a small squeak was heard from one of the shelves. Marcy’s eyes darted to the corner, where a tuft of green hair peaked out and then disappeared behind the bookcase.

Caius crossed his arms. “Ellie, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

Another newt in twin braids crawled out, shuffling her tiny feet. She was young, around the age of six, and wore a lilac pinstripe dress with high stockings. Thick bangs fell over her eyes as she stared at her feet.

“Sorry, Papa,” she lamented. “I heard the noise and came to investigate.” When she looked up her jaw dropped to the floor, soon replaced by the biggest smile.

“Oh my gosh, it’s you, Chief Ranger Marcy Wu! You’re a hero!”

A pang shot through Marcy’s chest. It had always been her dream to be hailed a hero in a far-off land, like those in her isikai novels - praised and showered with endless adoration. But now that adoration merely comprised beestings and thorns.

Marcy pawed at the back of her neck, shifting her eyes away. “Uh thanks, but I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?” Large, innocent pupils stared up in confusion.

She bit her lower lip, fingers twisting the hem of her dress, and whispered, “I’m not much of a hero…”

Elouise’s perplexed frown shifted. “Are you kidding? You’re Newtopia’s best! You saved our village from an angry stampede of rhino beetles.” 

“Yes, but…”

“And you devised a new irrigation system during that drought. Just look, look!”

The little newt scampered out and returned, cradling a miniature contraption in her spindly arms. She raised it in the air, beaming proudly.

“I modeled it after yours.” 

Marcy ran her fingers over the wood varnish. The craftsmanship was decent with no visible chips or cracks. It was sturdy, with two limbs that folded inward for storage purposes. Although its size resembled a toy, the intricate design displayed a weapon.

“Wow.” Marcy breathed. “This is an exact replica. Is there a spring-based firing mechanism in here?”

“Yep, and it takes real arrows.”

“Impressive.” 

A mock cough piercing the air halted their menial conversation. Caius glared down at his daughter with arms crossed before setting his attention on the human.

“Elouise, please. Now, Master Marcy, I know we’ve been on good terms in the past, but I don’t think I can aid you anymore.”

Marcy gripped his hands and pleaded with him. “Please Caius, I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t urgent.”

“You’re with the king’s army. Do you know what he’s done?”

Marcy slowly shook her head, afraid of the answer. She could guess, but she was certain that any assumptions would be leagues different from what had been enacted. If Sasha's behavior was any indication, Andrias had caused severe harm to the peaceful inhabitants of this world.

“He is drafting people into the military. Anyone who refuses or is not fit to fight is hauled away to work camps where they either die from exhaustion or starvation. Even humble shop owners are forced to supply weapons for the war. Elouise and I have had to sell everything to get by. Thanks to this tyrant, our entire lives have been upended.”

The pain in Marcy’s chest returned tenfold, and it placed a clamp around her heart. 

“I… I didn’t know. I’m truly sorry, Caius. Please, believe me, I don’t support what Andrias is doing anymore, but I swear I intend to stop him.”

The newt bowed his head in contemplation before another, harsher knock sounded on the door. Elouise ran to the boarded window and peeked out before turning back to her father with fear.

“Papa, it’s them again.”

The store clerk gasped and shuffled her away. “Quick now, hide.” He killed the lights and guarded the entrance while Eloise dragged Marcy across the room.

“C’mon, Ms. Wu, don’t let them see you.” 

The small hand gripped Marcy’s own and pulled her behind the service desk. A swinging door sealed them in as the two crammed together in the hallowed area. For Elouise, it was easy to fit in the small crevice, but Marcy had to squeeze her body between the narrow walls to stay hidden. Thankfully, the heavy shadows kept her hidden in the dark. There was a small eye slot in the center, created by a nail that was conveniently large enough to see through.

Caius sighed in relief when he saw the two girls were safe until another knock rattled the door. “Open up by order of his majesty.”

Caius complied and found himself staring at a group of robots. The one leading was significantly larger and crafted of copper plating rather than the usual smog-colored metal. Marcy sucked in air and swallowed the hailstorm of fear swirling in her stomach.

“Sorry guys closed ‘till six.” He tried to shut the door, but a metal foot wedged itself in the entryway, preventing it from closing.

“We are seeking the whereabouts of the human, Marcy Wu.” the lead robot explained, allowing itself passage.

Marcy’s breath quickened. Andrias had eyes and ears everywhere; it would not be easy to escape.

“A human, you say? Well, sorry fellas, but I’ve seen no trace of this, Marcy .”

Caius feigned ignorance. His voice sounded steady and well-assured, but behind his back, his hands were shaking at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

“Insufficient response. We have insight she was seen flying overhead.”

The store clerk faked a cough in order to subside his nerves. “I mean, she’s not here. I saw her flying westbound. I believe she’s heading to the Sonder lakes.”

The robots turned to each other with an ugly mechanical clink of their heads. “Affirmative, We will check for her there.”

They funneled outside, but the tall one turned back, narrowing its slitted eyes. “If you see the human, you must inform King Andrias immediately. Harboring a traitor is a criminal offense. Punishable by death.” He added a beat later with a deep voice that reverberated through the walls.

The newt gulped. “Of course, I would never betray my king.” He bowed respectfully and the robots departed in toe. Marcy crawled out from the desk and approached the clerk, who was facing away.

“Caius, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come here. I promise you’ll never have to hear from me again.” 

Caius remained silent, staring at the doorframe with an unreadable expression, and she turned to leave.

“That story won’t hold them for long. We need to act fast.”

“What…?”

“Elouise go collect food and supplies for our guests. They have a daunting journey ahead of them.”

“Yes, papa.” She said and darted to the kitchen.

Caius went into the back room, gathering glass bottles. “I take it you still make potions, yes? Here, these vials should suffice.” He emptied the bottles into her open arms. Marcy looked on in bewilderment.

“You’re still helping me, even after--?”

“Master Marcy, I owe you my life. Your loyalties may have been askew, but the help you’ve provided our little village cannot be undermined. If you are sincere in stripping Andrias of power, I wish to serve you in any way I can.”

Marcy’s heart melted and she gave a humble bow. “Thank you, Caius. I promise not to disappoint you.”

He nodded. “Now, let’s get you stocked.”

Marcy followed the newts to the far side of the store, a basket of food on her arm and a heavy satchel slung across her shoulder filled to the brim with many supplies such as twine and parchment. Her waist donned a leather belt containing potion vials filled with liquid concoctions, powders, and herbal pouches. Elouise trailed behind, carrying a big burlap sack of sunflower seeds for Joe. 

Caius removed the crochet rug and lifted the thick wood door to the cellar. Only the top of the stairway was lit with the back shrouded in darkness. It displayed an ominous ambiance about it.

“There is a set of stairs that leads outside, he informed. “Elouise and I will make sure you are not followed, and once we are able to flee this town, we’ll join you on your quest.” 

Marcy shook his hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“It certainly has.”

Without warning, Elouise lept into her arms, nearly throwing Marcy down the stairs. “Don’t forget us,” she whispered fiercely. 

Marcy squeezed back just as hard. “Never.” She looked back before exiting and saw globs of tears welling in the little one’s eyes. Once again, her thick bangs were obstructing her vision.

“Hey, I’ve got something for you.” She pulled out her signature green barrette and tucked the loose strands of hair behind the girl’s head, clipping them in place. “Can’t be a ranger with hair in your eyes.”

Ellie’s face slowly changed from the frozen shock, with inflated cheeks and a smile inching, growing wider by the millisecond. The bones in her legs rattled. Caius quickly slapped a palm over her mouth before she alerted the entire village.

“See ya on the other side.” Marcy snickered and dropped into the cellar before her body tumbled over itself and a mess of loose limbs clattered to the floor. “I’m okay!”

Joe was still waiting for her on the other end, so she mounted him and took for the sky, keeping low in case some robots were to survey the area.

Together, they fled the village with no problem.

……

Or they would have.

Unbeknown to the duo, a lone archer hid cleverly in the trees. It all happened In a single breath. 

Joe let out a gut-wrenching shriek as he started plummeting to the ground, his balance abruptly thrown off. Marcy quickly steered him towards the treetops, cushioning the crash.

“Woah, Joe, you okay?” She asked, hopping down to inspect the damage.

She examined his feathers and immediately found the offending object, an arrow planted within the primaries. The tip was plunged so deep, that it prevented any blood from spilling. Joe closed his eyes with a whine and turned his limp head to the side. The poor thing appeared in so much pain.

“Don’t worry, bud. We’ll get you fixed right...” she trailed off as a sharp whistle echoed through the treetops. Fine leather stamped against wood as a nimble figure could be heard swinging through the branches. He had the suaveness of Yunan and cheered each time he made a landing. The forest was lively with dark shadows darting about so the swashbuckling ninja only became visible when they were directly in the moon’s light. In that split second, she saw a slender green newt, dressed in fine attire and donning a dark cloak with the royal insignia.

“At last, I heard rumors of the king’s traitor. But never thought I’d be the one to find them. I must admit, you were not as difficult to catch as I initially expected.”

The cylindrical position of the trees caused the newt’s thunderous voice to be heard everywhere, and yet, Marcy could barely make him out amongst the shadows. She decided to take this opportunity to slink around the tree and formulate a plan. Reaching into her belt, she worked diligently, mixing chemicals until they bubbled into a blue solution.

The newt grew closer, his voice increasing with each advancing step. “No more will I be known as a petty thief. With you as my prize, the king will reinstate me into his army.”

His bow cracked and another arrow whizzed by, planting itself in the bark inches from her shoulder. Marcy carefully added one more drop, steady and focused on the amount needed. The newt stalked toward Joe with his weapon ready. Too tired to move, the aforementioned sparrow could only stare up with glazed-over eyes.

“And this steed I will bring back as a trophy for my acclaimed victory.”

That’s when Marcy pounced. She tackled the newt from behind and snaked an arm around his neck. With her free arm, she pushed the potion-soaked cloth onto his muzzle until he was forced to breathe in. The newt beneath her flailed and fought, but even with her small body, he could not throw her off of him. Eventually, his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in her arms. Marcy took a few calming breaths, the rush of adrenaline from their last escapade dying, and looked down at the form slumped against the branches. Even in a soporose state, he looked dramatic, swooping red hair splayed against the branch and his legs dangling over the side.

The ranger quickly checked his pulse, relieved he was still breathing. She removed the cloak and wrapped it around herself, both as another layer of warmth and protection. The king’s cloth would make a suitable guise until they found reinforcements. She also took his bow and quiver, gathering gear and weaponry, before turning to Joe.

“His call will draw others. We must hide out until it’s safe.”

Marcy harbored out in the trees, listening for the trample of metal soles. Her breath hitched at some movement in the brush, and she pressed herself against the tree, slipping into one of the large cracks that concealed her body from sight. Joe Sparrow was already an instrument of the wild, and his brown body camouflaged well against the bark.

A few whispers were heard and a shot of an arrow, and then the footsteps started again drifting to the west side. Marcy released the breath she was holding and pried herself away from the crack. 

“Okay, we’re clear.” 

The tree came to life, and Joe chirped, hopping over to her. His earthly hues were so convincing that even Marcy lost sight of him for a few seconds.

“Alright, let me take a look at that wing.” 

Joe outstretched the limp wing to the best of his ability. Marcy gripped the arrow with both hands and felt the bird flinch beneath her. She placed one foot on his lower body, counting steadily in her head.  

“Alright Joe, I’m gonna need you to stay very still. If I do this fast, it should be swift and painless.” 

Marcy took three breaths, curling her fingers around the rod. When she exhaled the third time, she tugged. Joe let out a mighty squawk, and she wrenched the arrow free from his flesh. With the first aid supplies she had obtained from Batrachia, she tended to the wound. She was not a medical expert in delivering stitches, but due to the excessive amount of accidents, she had experience patching her ripped clothing. Sewing a wound was inherently different, but the technique was similar so she mimicked the motions as she threaded the needle and closed up the hole. She finished, tying off the excess bandage and wrapping the wing to keep it immobilized.

“Okay, we need to make some distance between us and the castle. The ground’s still too dangerous. We’ll be better if we keep to the trees. There’s enough foliage for us to at least get a good set of miles in.” 

She gazed up at the stars, charting their direction. After locating the tadpole star at the end of the large skipper, she hopped on Joe and set a course to the north.

Lady Olivia and Sasha finally exited into the courtyard. The warm weather was inviting in contrast to the damp walls. A crisp breeze swept through carrying an aroma of seawater and herbs. It was fresh against her hot, sweaty face. Being outdoors was almost an anomaly to her. Having spent countless months tucked inside the dreary old castle, she’d desperately needed some fresh air.

The light blue coral gates led into a lush garden overflowing with floral oddities and aquatic shrubs. Sasha could definitely see Marcy’s imprint on this place. Each species was labeled with the common name followed by its scientific title in parentheticals. There were even info cards below each variant containing obscure facts and details. 

What a nerd! Gets isekaied to another world and all she can think about is plants.

A stone walkway curved around the garden, leading over a bridge that arched a stream. They passed under an arbor framed with wisteria, clusters of petals marking the path.

Unlike the rest of the palace, which was only permitted to the royal clan, the garden was open to all. The day hours would see laughing children tugging one another through the rows of flowers and locals enjoying the rare beauty of the garden. Yet at this time of the night, it was quiet and the only sounds Sasha could make out were the peaceful hum of the crickets and the rigid beating of her own heart.

Lady Olivia extended an arm and gestured to the surrounding area. “This was a gift from Master Marcy. She wanted a place where the humbled citizens could retreat after a long day. In addition, she remodeled the bridges and roads. Newtopia owes her a great service.”

Sasha huffed. “If you’re trying to tell me how smart Marcy is, save your breath. Girl’s a genius, but she severely lacks people skills.”

“I didn’t say she was the brightest in all fashions,” Lady Olivia countered. She focused on a perky dahlia and gently stroked the edges of its petals. “Yes, she’s naïve and trusting, maybe too much, but she is also kind and diligent. She’s experienced her fair share of dangerous predicaments and been quite victorious.”

Sasha scowled. “What are you trying to say?”

Lady Olivia looked the teenager in the eyes and spoke with the same sincerity adults often did during a lecture. “You think you are doing her a service by keeping her close. But how long until she breaks away?”

The idea of losing Marcy again, albeit willingly, haunted Sasha, so she shook it off with a laugh.

“You must be dense. Marcy wouldn’t ditch me. She needs me.”

Seriously, who did this bitch think she was? Pretending to be in Marcy’s best interest. Sasha knew Marcy inside and out. She’s a girl who trips over the cracks in the sidewalk, forges fake doctor's notes to get out of gym class, and will ramble for days on her favorite book series and the latest edition of a video game. They were privy to the skeletons in each other's closets. 

When Marcy revealed her intentions with the box, Sasha wasn’t that surprised. This was Marcy. She always got so stuck in her own world that she could barely recognize the surrounding danger. It only proved to Sasha how gullible she was. And why she should never be left to her own devices.

Unamused, Lady Olivia raised her chin, and the next words she uttered struck Sasha to her core. “Are you certain it is she who needs you?”

The general’s jaw fell. She searched for retorts, but they died in her throat. Her head snapped back as the wind slapped it. Lady Olivia appeared graceful. The breeze tousled her lilac curls over her shoulders and twirled the teacup skirt around her feet. For a moment, even General Sasha was intimidated bby her immortal beauty. Her abrupt silence had ended the conversation, and Lady Olivia rose.

“I must retire for the evening. I wish you a pleasant night, general. “ She said with a curtesy before those dang heels clattered down the stone path and out of earshot. 

Now alone in the garden, Sasha ran her fingers through her sweat-matted hair, seated at the edge of the bridge with her legs slung across the side. A calming sensation as brief as it was, spread up her fingertips. For a passing moment, the numbness she’d been experiencing these past weeks drifted away. She breathed in the fresh air, a waft of salty seawater and barnacle. Bright streaks skidded through the stream, much bigger than the ones she had come to know but still as elegant. A nostalgic feeling washed over her, heavy enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

You’ve got to be shitting me.

Sasha forced back the bitter remark as the cloth was removed from her eyes. After being tugged halfway around town for almost an hour straight, her patience was wearing paper thin and she was inches away from grabbing the smaller girl and shaking her roughly by the shoulders for wasting her time. Marcy had promised her a “special surprise” and insisted the blindfold was necessary to exemplify the illusion. Regardless of her attempts to steady her balance, her whole world felt tilted with her vision obstructed, and the person leading her through the maze of obstacles was anything but graceful.

But now that the offending fabric was removed and her eyes had adjusted to the light, Sasha finally got to see the amazing place Marcy was raving about. Her sore wrist, blisters on her feet, and burning pupils were all a result of...

A turtle pond.

Seriously? Marcy dragged her all this way to a fricking turtle pond?!

It lay at the bottom of a steep hill near an abandoned amphitheater, which explained all the uneven ground.

Being an old campus, there was discarded litter and cans strewn about. The grass was mostly dry, with several dead patches in the dirt, typical for California. The only sprint of color came from the pond itself, which was fenced by a stone wall. Red-eared sliders were laying on flat rocks and bathing in the sun.

Marcy loved reptiles so it was understandable that this was a frequent recreational spot for her. But out of all the places she could think of, what on earth led Marcy to believe this is the one she should bring Sasha to?

Marcy was clutching her hands, knees shaking in anxious excitement. Sasha smiled hard through grit teeth, hard enough to break them. “Wow, cool a koi pond!”

Marcy pulled her to the edge. “C’mon take a closer look. Aren’t they magnificent?”

Sasha squinted her eyes but cast her gaze on the multicolored fish swirling through the waters. They were fine… Their scales reflected off the surface and glimmered in the sun’s rays. The sight was pretty if she were honest, and it carried some serenity. But that still begged the question of why they were wasting a perfectly good Saturday watching mindless gilled creatures.

“See that black one?” 

Apparently, Marcy did not share the same sediment. She pointed at an ebony-colored fish, its dark scales in stark contrast with the radiated hues of the others. “It’s called Sumi. Many believe they possess good luck.”

Sasha pursed her lips together. “Okay…” Her grandmother had a water garden with koi and was a fan of the black variety. Sasha never understood why, but now the obsession made sense. Old woman was always into superstitious nonsense, obajaki, darum dolls and now black koi. Still it didn’t explain why she was there.

Marcy extended her arms wildly as if it was the most obvious thing. “Don’t you get it?” I know how nervous you’ve been with regionals coming up.”

Sasha scoffed, “I’m not nervous,” she dismissed with a flick of her wrist, but Marcy only grinned wider.

“Your locker is stalked with cases of Red Bull, you arrive at school an hour early every day so you can practice in the gym, and have been staying up till 2 am doing drills.”

Sasha blinked. “How’d you know that?”

Marcy held up her phone. “Because that’s when you text me.” 

A series of text messages soon flooded the screen. Marcy’s were highlighted in green while Sasha’s were in magenta. There was a crazy difference in the ratio of responses to texts. But everything had been marked as “read” with a tiny icon of Sasha’s face beside it.

Sasha cursed herself for being programmed to look at every message. Sleep deprivation is a key factor in a slip of the tongue. Marcy had simply figured out the reason she was staying up based on her replies. Damn, that girl was freaky smart sometimes.

“So I thought you could use a little extra luck.” Marcy continued. 

Sasha studied her fake nails “What, like throwing coins in the wishing Fountain?”

Her tone could not be any more sarcastic; it was practically dripping with insincerity. Any person would see the question as rhetorical.

“Yeah!” 

She stood corrected. 

Marcy grabbed her chin in thought. “Except we shouldn’t throw foreign objects in here. The copper could disintegrate and damage the fish’s digestive tracts through asphyxiation.”

Sasha restrained from face-palming. “Marmar, you really believe that junk? I thought you were the facts and logic nerd, not the superstition type.”

Well, there is an historic basis to these idealizations, so there may be some truth to them. And even if there isn’t, we still got to see some pretty cool fish.

Again with the fucking fish.

Sasha rubbed the bridge of her nose, officially done trying to reason with this girl. “Fine. Not like I have anything better to do.”

Marcy cheered, “That's the spirit! Now close your eyes and absorb all that positive energy.”

Positive energy, yeah right.

Still, despite her initial dismissal, Sasha complied and breathed in the calming aura. The water rippled around her while the air was filled with birdsong. It was nice, peaceful even. She didn’t hate it.

“Wanna know what else makes koi so fascinating?” Asked Marcy softly.

“...Enlighten me.” Sasha hummed.

“They’re derived from this ancient tale. According to legend, each day the carp would try to swim up the river to pass through the Golden Gate at the top of a large waterfall. Unfortunately, it was a perilous activity and few survived."

“Jumping over a waterfall is a perilous activity?”

“For fish.”

Sasha shrugged and leaned back, her mind 100% focused on this richly investing tale.

“Those that didn’t perish were immediately welcomed into the heavens where they were transformed into magnificent dragons.”

“Hmm, dragons are cool,” the cheerleader agreed.

“Aren’t they?! Reminds me of you.”

She cocked her head to the side. “It does?”

“Yeah, koi are seen as emblems for their perseverance and bravery, and you’re the bravest person I know. So the koi is kinda your fish, you know.”

Sasha’s cheeks flared with heat and the back of her throat grew dry. Marcy’s eyes were still on the fish, mesmerized by their movements as if she didn’t even realize what she said. But Sasha’s eyes were on Marcy. The way her face reflected in the shimmering, silver waters, the glow of the sun on her cheeks, the smile she wore that was as wide as the rim of the moon. It was precious beyond belief and Sash’s heart skipped a beat.

The raven-haired looked up with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Sasha’s eyes widened and she attempted to pat down her cheeks. Two hands came to rest on the sides of her face and she found herself staring into a set of curious eyes.

“Your face is red. Are you sick?”

Sasha masked a scoff. “Yeah, of this boring-ass place. C’mon nerd, let’s do something fun.”

Marcy didn’t complain as her arm was tugged away from the pond and up the hillside.

Sasha blinked as her mind was thrust back into the present. She thanked Marcy after that, didn’t she? She remembered seeing her in the front row of the bleachers, cheering Sasha’s name at the top of her lungs. Saint James left that day with a shiny first-place trophy, credited to the best performer on their team. Sasha saw little of Anne and Marcy afterward, too focused on her winnings.

Whenever she'd bring up the competition during lunch, Marcy grew uncharacteristically quiet. Sasha figured she was jealous. Now it seemed maybe it was something else.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the polaroid she had kept on her person since day one. It was hardly visible with all the wrinkles, had faded edges, and was taped back together in an area that had severed the connection between her and Marcy, but it was still in one piece. 

She glanced up, taking notice of how dark the sky had grown. The moon was high above the horizon and the entire garden became blanketed in shadows. It was too late to get Marcy now. She really hadn’t had much time to properly sleep outside of a medically induced coma. Waiting until the upcoming morning would give her time to rehearse what to say.

Sasha knew the conversation awaiting them would be long and serious, and as much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t emotionally prepared as of yet. There were so many things she needed to say. Certain things that she had buried into the deepest crevices of her mind, hoping to never face. But that was how Amphibia worked, wasn’t it? It brought to light revelations about herself she had never thought to question.

With a determined look, she rose to her feet and called for the nearest guard. Despite the hour of the night, a salamander in royal armor stood to attention. 

“Inform the staff. I am meeting with someone special tomorrow and I need the following preparations to be made,” she said, handing him a designated list.

The soldier bowed and made his exit.

Sasha sighed and gazed up at the half-moon hovering over the canopy of stars. Marcy was obsessed with astronomy. Back on earth, she would text Sasha at 3:00 in the morning with pictures of every constellation she could see from her bedroom window. Sasha never cared to look at them in Amphibia, but her eyes locked on those twinkling dots, and the world fell away.

Beautiful, isn’t it?

She looked to her left and there was Marcy, dressed in her school uniform, knees knocking back and forth with her head craned upward, as she did when they were kids. Large cinnamon eyes full of wonder and awe, reflecting the starlight. The girl beside her did not cast a reflection on the water and when she blinked they were gone. Nothing more than a memory.

A sad smile played on her lips. Since childhood, Marcy and Sasha were on the same page. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them that few could relate to. An understanding of empty houses and late-night sleepovers, staying at school or roaming the streets so they’d have an excuse not to go home. Anne didn’t have the same understanding. Her home was warm and friendly. Always filled with this inviting presence, displayed by the welcome mat on the front step. For Sasha and Marcy that presence was absent. So they found comfort in each other, always turning to the other to heal that vacant hole in their life. Like the photo, they had been torn asunder, but Sasha wasn't ready to let it all go. Not yet.

Come dawn, she would explain everything. But she needed the night.

Just one night.

Chapter Text

Traveling at night in her present state was not ideal, but it was better than being a sitting duck. 

You had a far less chance of being seen. Except for a few stragglers, the streets were vacant and the shadows concealed you from sight. There were only two things you needed to worry about: nocturnal predators and being caught in the moonlight, both of which were no issue for the stealth master: Marcy Wu. 

Her days as a ranger had given her a solid grip on the outskirts of the island. She pulled out the makeshift map that she had charted using her photogenic memory of the one hanging in the royal library. By her calculations, they had now been traveling for a solid 12 and a half hours.

Joe kept his head ducked and eyes peeled, repeatedly stopping to survey the area. He was well acquainted with the wilderness, and you could tell with the way he remained crouched and flittered from branch to branch. Even with one wing, his movements were swift and quiet.

She peered up over the treetops to see a shred of light and her heart raced. They would need to seek shelter soon before dawn approached and their presence was exposed.  Yunan talked of secret underground bunkers during the early days of Amphibia. Newts would go into hiding when the kingdom was infiltrated. Each bunker was within 100 yards of each other so there would be significant places available if any of them were on the run. Based on the landmarks she had already charted, the first bunker was eighteen miles away. They were running out of trees so she shielded herself beneath Joe’s good wing as they traveled the forest floor.

A crisp breeze washed over her and she tugged the cloak tighter yet it did very little to keep out the chill. Sasha used to tease her about being cold-blooded for the girl always kept a sweater or hoodie on her person, even in 70-degree weather, but now it seemed even more true for she was sinking in her boots - shoulders shaking and teeth chattering. She suspected it may be a fever and placed two fingers against her wrist but her skin felt cold and clammy, not hot and sweaty. 

Marcy’s knees quaked and her head swirled, a sudden rush of blood streaming through it as if she had stood up too fast. Her body temperature fluctuated at odd speeds, changing on a dime. Human anatomy usually consists of a base body temperature that is regulated despite the climate, keeping the body warm in frigid environments and releasing sweat glands when it overheats. But Marcy's body was doing the opposite, almost as if it was taking on the exterior temperature. Every time a chill passed through her, she buried herself in Joe’s plumage for warmth. But once she was settled, she would grow so hot she might faint and so the cycle continued.

After several paces, a sharp crack rang through the forest and she spun around, weapon at the ready. A burly figure slunk through the brush, remaining in the shadows. Marcy’s arrow followed it, waiting for the signal to fire, yet it was clear she was aiming at a blind target. In the center of the clearing, no longer protected by the trees, she waited. Joe stood behind her, his good wing flared in a protective stance as if he were shielding her from the invading force.

The clouds swallowed the moon and the forest was shrouded in darkness. When it breached once more, it highlighted a dark wrinkled face and a row of pointed mismatched teeth. Marcy slowly backed away, hoping to remain quiet. Her right foot hooked behind her left and she stumbled backward as the ground was pulled out from under her. The bow snapped and the arrow was free from its nock, spurring into a nearby tree. 

In her daze, the toad lunged, brandishing his dagger. “Die, allies to the King!”

Luckily, the impact weakened a bough and it came crashing down on his head. Which he then used as a weapon. Way to go, Marce.

She took the presented moment to rise to her feet and collect all the scattered arrows, firing in rapid succession. Due to how much her hand was shaking, the arrows missed their targets and kept getting lodged in the bark. Her grip on the bow was weak. The ranger’s skill in archery lay in her aim and trajectory, but not in her shoulders - which is why she had immediately resorted to using a crossbow. The weapon still fired, but it was enacted through her wrist and not weighing down her arm. She shot a few warning shots, hoping to drag enough distance so she and Joe could escape.

It wasn’t much though and he was always right behind her. He lunged at her again so she rolled out of his way before he pinned her to the ground. He stumbled over but he pushed himself to one foot and used the other for balance. 

A literal Achilles heel, Marcy mused.

She decided to use this to her advantage. She slung her arrow around a branch and used it to swing past the old toad. Her movements were lightning-quick and caused him to go through the extra effort to keep up. 

Panting heavily, she reached back for another arrow but her fingers only grazed air. The realization came too late and the toad threw himself at her, pinning her by the shoulders against a rock. Marcy squealed as sharp claws ripped through her sleeves and dug into her skin. His face was still covered by shadow, except for one lone yellow eye glaring through the darkness. It seemed familiar.

“Where’s my lieutenant?”

Grime?

He shook her roughly by the shoulders. From the corner of her eye, she could see the blade gleaming an inch away. Her entire body went stock still.

“Answer me or I’ll slit your throat!” he roared, blowing hot breath on her face.

Marcy was well aware of the acute stress response known as fight or flight. But health class always failed to mention the third type: freeze -- When your body is so shell-shocked, you can’t move. This was the one Marcy’s body tended to resort to the most. When she was being scolded by her parents or sitting in the principal's office after the trio got caught playing video games in the teacher’s lounge, her mouth filled with cotton, and her muscles locked up. Thankfully, Anne and Sasha were quick to speak for her, with Sasha explaining how if the students had their own hangout, they wouldn’t need to sneak into the teacher’s lounge, and Anne immediately taking the fall so Marcy’s parents wouldn’t be called. 

But she wasn’t in the vice principal's office this time. She was alone in the woods with a livid toad soldier who took her silence as insubordination. Acting like a deer in the headlights did her no good in this scenario.

Grime waited for a beat for her to respond. When she didn’t, he reared his hand back, ready to plunge the knife through her neck. 

Mortal terror finally overcame the stunned fear and she shrieked, tearing off her hood. “Wait, it’s me!”

Grime stopped inches before her face, the dagger just barely grazing her cheek.

“Marley?” He breathed.

The girl chuckled, both from the humor in the name confusion and the nervousness of her near death. “Actually, it’s Marcy.”

His hand shook and the dagger slipped out, clattering to the earth. She could feel the threatening presence slowly back away, but she was too paralyzed to react.

“But you’re… How are you? Are… are you a ghost?”

“No. At least, I don’t believe so… Apparitions are typically coupled with disruptive forces in the universe. Although, those sightings are mostly speculation and have a minimal factual basis. Not to mention, my memories have been rather muddled lately. But then again, I was seen by multiple witnesses so the likelihood--”

“Frog damn it, you don’t shut up!”

The rude comment had halted Marcy’s tangent and she shrunk back, ducking her head between her shoulders.

But then Grime’s eyes lit up and a tightness gripped Marcy’s stomach. “Wait, where is she?” There it was, the question that weighed on her gut like a sack of rocks.

“Sasha!” He eagerly peaked around the trees as if he were playing hide and seek with a pollywog. Marcy swallowed thickly and stared at her boots. Her heart was throbbing.

“Grime, she isn’t here.” The toad opened his mouth to retort but Marcy beat him to it. “I came alone.”

Grime growled, rows of shark teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “You left her there?” 

“Yes, but eherk --”

He gripped at her neck with his bear claws. 

“Please, let me explain.” She squeaked, the toad’s fingers clenching around her windpipe. 

Marcy wheezed and let out a cough, her body shaking in turn. Grime’s deadly eyes widened for a split second. A flash of regret flashed through the older toad’s eyes and he slowly withdrew his fingers. Marcy heaved several breaths, reaching up to massage the sore bruise around her neck.

Then Grime looked up before screaming and diving to the ground, “Holy shit!” 

A silver streak whisked past him, its beak barely missing Grime’s head by a centimeter. Marcy gasped and watched the poor bird struggle with one wing before nose-diving into the dirt. Stupid bird. He’s going to tear out his stitches with that display. 

Despite the pain in her throat, she rushed over, coming to her knees beside the sparrow.

“Joe, Joe it’s okay. I’m okay,” She cooed softly, pressing her forehead against his cheek. The bird calmed instantly and lowered its head allowing Marcy to kiss it.

Grime dusted himself off and scowled. “That feathered maniac almost bit my face clear off.”

“He’s protective,” she clarified, before turning back with a leveled gaze. “And to be fair, you were just trying to kill me a moment ago.”

“Psh, It’s not like you haven’t bested death before.”

Grime’s remark hit Marcy like a bucket of ice water and she shivered in turn. She spread out her arms and drew in a composing breath. “Look,” she answered calmly. “I didn’t come to pick fights.” She ignored Grime’s scoff at that. “Andrias’s army is advancing and we need shelter.”

“I don’t do charity. Deal with it yourself.”

“Grime, I… “ Marcy’s vision swam and knees buckled, forcing her to lean on Joe for support. The captain paused in his tracks and turned back. She swore she saw a hint of pity in his eyes but it could have been a trick of the light. He glanced up the road and then dropped his shoulders with a low sigh. 

“Fine. Come with me.”

He silently started up the path, keeping at a slow enough pace for them to follow. Joe carried Marcy on his back and glared at Grime as they walked.

“Could you ask him to cut that out? I’m not going to touch you again.”

Marcy remained quiet but massaged the sparrow’s feathers, causing him to lower his guard.

The bunker was built into the hillside of an open field. Nothing but acres of grassy plains for miles on end. The tall grass reached up to Marcy’s middle meanwhile Grime slashed through with his dagger. Joe was the only one who didn’t have to crane his neck to see over the thick stalks.

“Watch your step,” Grime warned, sidestepping a snare trap. Marcy noticed shiny metal teeth poking out of the ground along with a series of pit traps loosely covered by leaves. Heavy stakes tied with barbed wire were driven into the ground and created a fence around the bunker. The whole place was tricked up.

Grime cleared some reeds, revealing a centuries-old stone door that dated back to the Tetrapodic era. Moss was crawling up the sides. He hoisted it open and Marcy stepped in but when Joe attempted to follow, he waggled a finger in the latter’s direction. “Uh uh uh, the bird stays out.”

Marcy rushed back and glued herself to Joe’s side. “But he’s got a damaged wing. In this state, he’s a magnet for predators.”

“Do you want shelter or not?” Grime insisted.

Marcy bit her lower lip. Although the idea of leaving poor Joe out in the open terrified her, the thought of being captured by King Andrias and forced back to that hell scared her even more.

“Don’t worry bud, I’ll be back in the morning.” She patted him on the head as a final goodbye before following Grime.

Marcy held back a gasp as she stepped inside. The walls were covered with diagrams of the king’s palace, routes marked out with certain paths drawn in red - likely the underground passageways. A rickety wooden table bridged the center with a map of the land and red flags representing Andrias’ soldiers. Her nerdy heart burst at the similar setup to creatures and caverns. 

Now that she was able to see him in the light, she noticed the thick metal band surrounding his left leg, the one he was limping on. The armored boot enveloped his calf and wrapped around the knee. He looked like a cool rustic warrior who’d just been in the lines of battle.

“Go on, keep staring. I’m here to entertain you.” Grime said with his back to her.

Marcy ducked her eyes away. “Sorry.” She turned back to the walls. “You have a lot of diagrams here. These all for Sasha?”

Grime sneered at her but remained silent. Marcy realized she was having a very difficult time appeasing the Toad. She had no idea how Sasha became so attracted to him. Grime stabbed his knife into the table and leaned against the side grabbing a cup full of something strong and guzzling it down. The rancid stench hit her nostrils like a bullet train and she thought she might puke.

“Well then, Ghost Girl.”

“It’s Marcy.”

“And I care not to remember it. Tell me why you’re fleeing from the king’s men like a chicken mite.”

Marcy grew offended and tried to glare down at Grime, though her weak shoulders and scrunched lips created the opposite effect. “I’m not running away.”

Grime scoffed. “Yes, you and your bird buddy are just playing vagabonds for the hell of it.”

She breathed out an exasperated sigh. “Grime…”

“Spare me your sob stories. After you just abandon her, I don’t care to listen.”

“I didn’t--”

Marcy’s words were halted by an ear-piercing screech and she jumped to her feet. “That’s Joe! I knew I shouldn’t have left him.” 

She rushed over to a window near the ceiling and looked out with her spyglass. Joe was huddled in a far corner, pinprick eyes zeroed in at the sky. Marcy followed his gaze and her breath hitched. A giant raptor hovered over the clearing, its massive wings creating a tornado-sized gust that fanned the trees. 

“Great Scott,” Grime muttered. “Your loyal bird has garnered the attention of a hawk.”

“Falcon.”

His eyes flicked up. “What?”

“That’s a Kestral,” Marcy explained. “The term sparrow hawk does not reflect their genus Falco tinnunculus.”

“Is this seriously the time to correct me?”

“Well, you are spreading misinformation. And the distinction is very important.”

“No, it’s not!  He dragged a hand down the length of his face. “Nevertheless, seems that nuisance will prove useful.”

She froze and turned to him with a befuddled stare. “Huh, what do you mean by that?”

“That sparrow is far enough away from the bunker. If he keeps it distracted, it’ll give us a chance to escape through the tunnels.”

“What?! I’m not leaving Joe out there?”

“Get a grip, soldier. He’s as good as gone. Best we save our skins while we still can.”

“No, you may be cool with abandoning your cohorts. But I’m not.”

She marched ahead. Not looking back to see if Grime had followed her. 

----------

Marcy ran over and slammed down a bag of powder that exploded in the raptor’s face. It shook its head and rapidly blinked its eyes before locking them on its new threat. Staring it down, she pulled back the string, bracing herself. The kestrel squawked and dove his giant beak towards her.

Bam!

Grime’s fist jabbed into the raptor’s cheek, smacking it to the side. It charged at the toad but he squared it in the jaw, eliciting a pained squawk. With a mighty flap of its wings, it shot back into the sky, followed by a triumphant laugh. 

“Hah, that beast didn’t put up much of a fight!”

He looked to Marcy, expecting the same cheerful reaction but she wasn’t celebrating. In fact, she wasn’t focused on him at all, but staring intently at the sky with knitted brows. Watching, waiting. 

“Uh, you’re welcome.” His sarcastic tone did not pass her, but she had more pressing matters. 

“Something doesn’t add up,” she muttered to herself. He gave her a puzzled look.

“Come again?”

Marcy turned back to him. “Didn’t that kestrel seem abnormally small to you?”

Grime blinked and tapped an index finger against his chin. “I guess it was a bit shrimpy, yeah.”

“And did you see its wings? Adults typically have white tips on their primaries, but these ones were faded.”

Grime grumbled. “Are you going to clue me in on why you’re spurting useless facts on a beast we took care of?”

She looked him dead in the eye. “Because fledglings don’t stray far from the nest.” 

Grime’s eye widened before shooting to the sky. “See anything?” he asked in a low whisper.

“Not yet. Wait,” she added with bated breath. “You hear that?”

Grime raised his ear. 

“Kee-Kee”

The sound grew louder as a small grey dot quickly came into view.

“Get down!” He shoved Marcy out of the way as the raptor swooped down. Her talons scraped against the ground and snapped shut, tearing up the grass while leaving wide ditches in the dirt.

Marcy heaved several quick breaths. “I think we found mama.”

They flattened their bodies against the ground, hidden by the tall grass. “Well nerd, since you’re the falcon expert, how do we get rid of this one?” Grime roughly whispered to her.

“We need to immobilize her strength and exploit her weakness.”

“Which is…?”

“Sight,” she clarified. “Falcons have keen eyesight and high visual acuity. Their visual depth can be as high as 20/4.”

“So I stab it in the eye.” He jumped up, but Marcy gripped his sleeve and pulled him back. 

“No, if you provoke a raptor, it’ll become more volatile. We need to contain her so she’ll leave on its own.”

With another flap, all the grass tipped over, exposing their bodies to the giant raptor hovering over them.”

“We can’t disarm it when it flaps its massive wings.”

“That’s it!” Marcy reached into her back pocket and pulled out a corked tube.

“What’s that?”

“Just a little concoction I whipped up.” She pointed to a vacant spot across the field, which was occasionally covered by the bird’s shadow, and handed Grime the vial. “Go place this over there and wait for my signal.”

“What’s this going to do?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” she sang with a mischievous wink, darting in the opposite direction.

“The kestrel lunged for Grime, but he skidded past and slid right under the kestrel's nose.

The instant she dove again, grasping only air, Marcy leapt onto its wing and uncorked the potion. Evaporated fog flew from the bottle creating a dark black mist. Once she got close enough to the ground, Marcy whistled and hopped onto Joe’s back. 

The sparrow needed no further instruction and headed into a sprint, ducking between the bird’s legs. Marcy cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a sharp animalistic cry. The Kestrel immediately darted towards the sound, but still being lost in the mist, could only guess where it was coming from. 

Weaving in and out, she shot her arrow, stringing up its legs until it was in the center of a life-sized cat's cradle. 

“Bravo Soldier!” Grime cheered from nearby.

Once more Marcy flew in front, flailing her arms madly while crying out in alarm. The kestrel attempted to chase her but tripped and slammed face-first into the ground. 

“Now Grime!”

Captain Grime gripped the bird’s neck and held it down while Marcy fired a series of roped arrows in rapid succession, crisscrossing each other and pinning it to the ground. She worked fast, binding its wings so it couldn’t fight back. She cheered triumphantly, reconvening with Grime.

He slapped her on the back. “Have to hand it to you, Ghost Girl, that was quick thinking.”

Marcy swallowed the shiver that ran through her spine and declared proudly, “Pshaw, just some skills I picked up in the field.”

The compliment boosted her spirits, and the ranger finally felt as if the seasoned captain was regarding her with respect.

Their victory was short-lived, however, as a sudden crack whipped through the air.

Two heads swiveled to the right, catching the kestrel fighting against its restraints.

One rope had snapped, and she was trying to pull the remaining arrows out of the ground. Marcy dug her heels into the dirt as it dragged her body forward, but her slim form was a feather compared to the kestrel's huge build. Grime gripped the end of the rope, drastically increasing the weight on that side. They were caught amidst the most unbalanced game of tug of war in history, and Grime and Marcy’s side was losing fast. 

“Surprise, surprise,” Grime grumbled. “Your big plan failed.” He pulled hard on the rope, throwing it over his shoulder. “Can’t believe I’m even helping you after what you did to Sasha.”

Marcy grunted, throwing all her strength into steadying the rope. Her hands burned and it was hard to keep it from slipping through her fingers. Not to mention, Grime's words were grating on her ears and loosening her tongue.

 “I didn’t leave her!” she insisted. 

“Then why isn’t she here? Why is she still with that darned Andrias?!”

“Because she wants to be!”

Marcy felt the words leave her mouth before she could stop them. She shot a glance to her right and watched as Grime’s body instantly tensed up, shoulders rigid and spine stiff, but it was too late to take it back. 

The bird flailed wildly. With its wings restrained, flight was not an option, but it was still wicked strong and putting up quite the fight. The rope slackened and Marcy could feel it slip through her fingertips. She pulled back as hard as she could muster, but the force was too strong and with a yelp, she was flung off her feet.

The gaping maw of the kestrel’s beak descended and snapped at her ribs, tearing the cloth. 

Marcy squeaked and rolled out of the way, shooting another arrow to ward off the raptor. It let out a raucous cry in response.

She had done it. The bird was provoked.

Wingspread, the massive raptor roared over her, blocking the sun and casting a large shadow. But just when she thought it would try to attack her again, Marcy spotted a small green lump swiping at its back leg.

“You’re lying!” Grime roared, avoiding nearly being skewered by the giant beak.

“I’m not, I swear!”

“Yes, yes you are. It’s all you’ve done. You are a pathetic, treacherous lier!” He punctuated each word with a punch.

“It’s all your fault. I know how you and Anne were to her. You judged her, treated her like a monster. Well, I’ve always seen Sasha for who she is, a true soldier whose soul is always in the heart of the prize. She’s not tied to her pathetic emotions like the rest of you petty humans.”

Marcy wanted to argue. Say she wasn’t responsible for Sasha’s decisions. But she couldn't because he was right. This was her fault. Anne and Sasha wouldn't even be in these predicaments if it wasn’t for her. She acted selfish and stupid and it nearly got them all killed. 

The bow was pushed out of her hands and the bird lunged. Marcy thought she heard her name but the blood rushing to her head made everything sound funny. The kestrel snatched the girl from the ground in her talons. 

Marcy shrieked as its wide beak dove for her. 

But out of nowhere, she heard a familiar call coupled with a battle cry. Grime leaped from Joe’s back and punched it square in the eye. The kestrel opened its talons and Marcy fell to the grass. 

Aggravated, she threw Grime off of her and snapped at him. Marcy reached out a weak arm, screaming his name.                                             

As the bird advanced, Joe flew up and bit it on the toe. It then reared back and chased Joe toward the bunker. He stopped and waited until the kestrel was inches away, then jumped out of the way as the kestrel set off a trap. Its body slammed into the ground, one leg trapped under it and the left tied up in the air.

Marcy took the opportunity and slid underneath it, piercing her arrow straight through the kestral's abdomen. With an agonzing shriek, it snapped the rope and flared its wings. 

Grime pushed Marcy to the floor and the bird passed over them, darting into the sky. A trail of blood leading away from it.

Marcy silently crawled over to Joe and nuzzled his head. He wasn’t trembling, but she knew that an attack like that was scarring, even for a member of the Night Guard. She cast a glance at Grime, a question sliding off her tongue. It was never voiced. 

Instead, Grime pushed himself to his feet with a huff. “C’mon, let’s go before that beast comes back,” he grumbled, heading towards the bunker. “And bring that trouble-making bird of yours inside.”

Sasha carefully surveyed the dining hall, making sure no hair was out of place. The table was set with two placements and was draped in a soft aquamarine cloth with pink shells and decals bordering the edges. The china itself was constructed from polished shells glued together and she was starting to think this city went a bit overboard with the ocean theme.

With a scowl, Sasha ripped the floral centerpiece from its vase and waved it at two nearby newts. “What is this?”

The maid standing nearby, shuffled back with a nervous stutter “Uhh, the f-flowers you requested.”

Sasha threw them to the ground. “I asked for white tulips, not this crap” 

The servant retreated backward. “Well, um... Does it matter?”

Sasha gave her a lone, cold glare, digging through the timid newt’s soul. “Yes, a lot. Now go make it right.”

Without hesitation, the maids scurried away and Sasha released a heavy breath.

“You’re going through a great deal of trouble for one meal.”

She turned to see Lady Olivia entering the dining hall. Despite the fact, that the teenager got barely any sleep last night, Lady Olivia looked well-rested. It was infuriating. 

“This is no ordinary meal,” she corrected, approaching the chef. “Make the finest food you have. She has not eaten properly for months; she deserves only the best.”

“Yes General.” He too bowed and exited into the kitchen. 

“What happened? You’re acting quite differently from last night.” Lady Olivia pointed out. 

Sasha shrugged and leaned back against the banister. “I’ve had time to think things over.”

She continued to survey the banquet hall, pressing out the wrinkles in the table cloth and perfecting the folded napkins. 

When she was satisfied with the display, Sasha clapped her gloves and then directed her attention to the butler. “Invite Master Marcy to breakfast. I wish to speak with her in private. Make sure she does not feel forced. This is only a request.” 

The newt bowed his head and departed.

This would work. It had to. Screw Andrias and his imbecilic army, screw adults with their rules and condescending remarks, screw the student body full of dumb pubescent tweens. All of it could burn in hell. She and Marcy were veterans of this world now and they would embrace it, never to return home, never to remiss a life that judged them. They could live out Marcy's crazy fantasy just as she intended - vagabonds wandering the land - break away from the political bindings, and live freely. No one but the two of them. 

“General?” 

Sasha snapped out of her daydreaming, straightened her spine, and approached the frog. His return had been much quicker than she anticipated and even more disconcerting was the fact he came alone.

Did she not wanna come? Was she being too forward? Had Sasha blown her only chance to mend their friendship?

“It’s Master Marcy,” he continued. “She’s…”

Sasha’s entire body turned rigid at the last words that left his lips. 

“She’s escaped.”

Marcy froze in the doorway, feet rooted to the floor. Further away from her, she watched as Grime stared at the wall, the mug in his hands. The shadows from the flame in the fire pit danced as if they had hooked him in a mesmerizing trance. Marcy couldn’t see his eyes from where she stood but she imagined they were reflecting the same trickles of light.

“Aren’t you going to speak, Ghost Girl?” Sasha said you’re the most talkative of your trio.”

Marcy drew in courage and slowly approached the captain. “Thank you for helping Joe and me back there.”

“I did it for Sasha, not you. I don’t trust you.” Grime said slowly, turning one narrowed eye at her.

Marcy nodded slowly and took that as her invitation to move toward him. “That’s understandable.” She walked around the couch. “I’ve given you no reason to.”

“Just so we’re clear, you and I are not allies. The only reason I bother breaking my back for you is that Sasha thought you were worth something alive. If not for her, I would have fed your remains to the kestrel.”

“I’m glad she has you. Back in Newtopia, I had no idea what happened to my friends. I could only hope they were in similar circumstances as my own.”

“We’ll, we weren’t. We were nearly torn apart by the herons. Afterwards, my entire crew had forsaken me and Sasha was the only one who remained at my side. If not for her, I would’ve perished.”

“Sounds like you really care about her.”

She’s my second in command. It’s my job as her commander to look out for her.”

“The night rangers are different. More reliance on self-preservation than a collaborative unit.”

“That’s because the king and his entire team are tyrannic imbeciles.”

"No argument there.” 

Marcy thought she saw his lips turn up slightly but in a flash, it was gone. A deep gravelly chuckle, too melancholic to be sincere, erupted from the old toad.

“Isn’t that a laugh? A captain is supposed to keep his comrades safe. A captain stays in the line of battle even at the risk of his own life. A captain would never abandon his soldiers when they are in need.”

“Grime, It’s not your fault--”

“I WAS A COWARD!”

Grime’s mug slammed down on the table, the contents spilling over the side. He looked up and Marcy saw the vestiges of tears. “I swore to protect her. She is the only reason I draw breath, and I failed her. I let one of my own fall.”

“No! Andrias was too powerful. None of us could beat him.”

“I am the leader of nine armies. I saw death the instant I took my first footsteps. My whole life has been caught in the reigns of war. That lowly excuse of a tyrant is not a threat to me.”

Marcy could only nod in response. Any answer she had would not be suitable and probably end up making him more upset. Grime lowered his tired body back into the ratty cushions, while Marcy drummed her fingers along the sides of the couch.

“You know She doesn’t hate you, right?” 

Grime scoffed. 

“She hates me, but she doesn’t hate you.”

Grime’s head rose slightly but he remained in his seat. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Marcy heaved a deep sigh, finally sitting next to him. Only an arm’s width of distance between them. She stared at her hands.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me and I feel indifferent about you, but we do have congruent goals. Perhaps we could benefit each other.”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. “You propose a truce?”

“I know every inch of that palace. And you’re the only one capable of dethroning Andrias. Together, we stand a pretty good chance at rescuing her.” She looked over to see him contemplating the proposal and reached out her hand. “So, is it a deal?”

Grime waited a beat before gripping it in his own with a firm shake. “Deal, but rest assured, that if it comes down to you and Sasha,” he squeezed down on her hand, the threat evident, “I will not hesitate to save the latter.”

Marcy nodded. She hadn’t expected anything less.

“Well then,” He stretched out his legs and curled himself into a more comfortable position on the couch. “Best get some shut-eye. You’re no good if you’re a walking corpse.”

With a dry laugh, Marcy turned tail and retreated to her makeshift bunk. “Bit late for that. 'Night.” 

She waited for a spell to see if he would answer her but received no response. With a heavy sigh, she drew back the curtain and climbed up the old mattress pushed against the wall. As she was settling down she thought she heard a small, faint voice across the room say it back.

The young general’s armor clinked as she knelt at the base of the throne, her entire face drenched with sweat. This was not the first time she’d been summoned, but the number had dwindled after he started giving her command over her own sector. Not to mention that the circumstances that led to this encounter filled her with a sense of dread.

She had been barking orders to every guard and every foot soldier since the unfortunate news in the dining hall. Marcy couldn't have gone far. She had no weapons, no friends, and had just awoken from surgery. How the heck would one injured girl have managed to abscond the city so quickly?

Then again, this was Marcy. Although she was loud, she moved like a mouse. She could cross the room in less than a second without you having realized it. Sasha never had to look up as in one instant the rambling teenager would be at her shoulder talking up a storm and the next, she’d hear the familiar clang of aluminum and see that Marcy had dove headfirst into the nearest trashcan across the hall.

Something hot and slimy slithered up her throat. Had he really found out so quickly? How did he even receive this information? She had given explicit orders not to inform the king until she had time to evaluate the situation herself. Everyone in the castle was to report to her first before they could even consider involving his magesty. Her head ached from the thought of having to toss yet another servant out on their sorry ass.

Still crouched in front of the king, she addressed the salamander as calmly as she could. “My liege, allow me to explain.”

Andrias gave a mighty eye roll and twirled his fingers absentmindedly. “Yes, yes,” he drawled. “I’m sure you could talk my ear off, but I’m afraid it must wait. They have requested your presence.”

Sasha raised her head with knitted eyebrows. “Who?”

He led her through the halls, down a long-winded staircase, and into a secret passage hidden in the walls. She flinched at the strange amoeba-shaped creatures which swarmed around them, their bodies nothing but disgusting, translucent blobs. One managed to brush up against her and she hissed, clapping a hand over the newly formed burn on her arm.

“Be careful now,” Andrias warned, though there was a tint of glee in his voice. “The creatures here are fatal to human beings.”

Sasha heaved a deep breath and followed him the rest of the way down. They entered a round room. The sides were lined with strange machinery and the floor was illuminated by a row of lights.

Her breath hitched and her heart leaped in her throat. The pitch-black abyss concealed the massive form of a creature, its body hidden in the shadows. The very presence caused a chill to run through her as did the cold air leaking through the thin basement walls.

“ Strength,” a deep, breathy voice whispered, causing every hair to stand up on end. “ At last. ”

The sound echoed off the walls and surrounded her on all sides. It didn’t just appear to be coming from the room but reverberated from inside her own brain.

Sasha started to back away but was soon stopped by King Andrias’ massive palm. “Now, now, don’t be shy.” He nudged her forward like a parent pushing their kid to make friends with complete stranger.

The voice spoke again. “Step forward, child. ”

Swallowing her fear, she forced a few steps toward the creature. As she peered into the dark, she was met with thirteen serpentine eyes. Instinctively, she reached for her sword but froze while her fingers white-knuckled the hilt.

“You stand in the presence of a god yet you do not speak? ” 

The soldier’s mouth moved, but every word turned to ash the moment it reached her tongue.

“You may wear the guise of a mighty warrior but we know you are only a child - pathetic and weak.”

“Forgive her my lord. She does not yet understand.” 

Andrias’ voice suddenly rose from behind and he kneeled respectively to the eldrich. Sasha wondered if she should do the same but her legs locked up and she couldn’t bend them. In fact, all her major functions seemed to fail her.

The deity hummed. “Such a futile mortal. Does not realize we are the reason she draws breath. ”

Sasha finally found her voice and breathed a small, fainted gasp. “What?” 

Every eye narrowed on her and she wanted to vomit. “We are the ones who instructed Andrias to spare you. The only reason you stand here today is because of our mercy. ”

Her throat closed up and she tried to swallow the lump that formed in the back of it. “But why… Why choose me?”

It spoke slowly and deliberately as if addressing a small child, and the words that followed would forever haunt her brain. 

“Because you have nothing to live for. ”

Chapter Text

Marcy raised her head, peering over the mounds of earth that stretched out of view. Miles and miles of plateau covered the area. The field was like a chessboard, layered in giant black and red squares.

Brandishing her crossbow, she walked the length of the board while passing by a row of guards.

One of them approached and addressed the archer. “Master Marcy, your move.”

She took a hesitant step forward, claiming one of the black squares. A wooden frog, dressed in patched clothing stood before her. She cowered, bringing shaky hands to her face. Marcy swallowed audibly and raised her bow. 

“Please, I beg of you.” whimpered the amphibious Pinocchio.

Marcy grimaced, the weapon shaking in her hands. “I... I don’t like this. Can’t we stop?”

“You know we can’t cease until the game is complete,” said the salamander.

Marcy solemnly nodded and released the arrow, ducking her eyes as it plunged straight through the pawn’s chest. The guards quickly removed the fallen body and carried it out of sight. Her gaze followed it in pity and her fingers twitched. 

Shortly after, a burly toad stepped forward with a club and was immediately shot down by an axolotl's scepter. He too was removed, carried off like a fallen soldier killed in the line of battle.

“They're just pieces; they’re insignificant,” she told herself.

“Like us, right Marmar?”

Marcy spun on her heel, finding herself being confronted by two figures - one in gold armor and the other in scarlet. Just like her, these people weren’t made of wood. 

The ranger’s heart sank in her stomach.

The one who spoke had a mop of curls covered in leaves and twigs tucked beneath a hooded cloak. Her chestnut eyes were devoid of warmth and resembled black coals. Beside her stood another figure, with a high ponytail, her face littered with scars and caked dirt. When she walked, her twin swords dragged against the road, eliciting a sharp scratch that tore at her eardrums. 

She raised them in the air with a crackle of electricity. “That’s all this is to you, a game?” Her voice bore a mocking sneer.

Marcy’s heart thudded in her rib cage. She backed away, shaking her head. “Anne, Sasha? No, you aren’t supposed to be here.”

“But Marcy, you brought us here. You brought us into this mess.”

They spoke in tandem, their voices rubbing against each other like grinding tires on a steel rail. Mechanical and hollow. No inflictions and perfect intonation. It was as if they were the same person.

Their swords were cast in a bright flame. Anne’s burned blue and Sasha’s burned red.

Marcy spun on her heel and ran. Behind her the ground crumpled into blocks, pieces flying into the air, crashing around her. She reached the end of the board.

Marcy’s hand clenched tight around her crossbow.

“Finish it, Marcy!” The voices demanded.

It trembled. “No, I can’t…”

“FINISH IT!”

With tears, Marcy squeezed her eyes tight and released. She opened her eyes to see her friends still standing, but they had wicked smirks.

Marcy’s eyes slowly trailed downward, catching the fire arrow implanted in her chest. She screamed and reached to pull it out but it ate the flesh of her fingers.

She gasped, reaching out a trembling hand. “H-help me…”

Anne strolled over with a devilish sneer and booped Marcy on the nose.

“Checkmate.”

Down, down over the side, she fell. 

Then she was sinking, pulled under by a dark abyss. She tried to breach the surface but liquid washed over her. Not water, but dark inky blood.

She was swimming in it. Hands reached out and snaked around her mouth, cutting off the air supply. Marcy flailed and kicked, but she couldn’t breathe.

Hands reached out of the pool, wrapping around her neck and nose.

“Stay. Stay with us forever.”

The cluster of whispered voices filled the atmosphere.

Bit by bit she felt the oxygen leave her lungs. Her body submerged in water.

It’s what she wanted. To be in a fantasy world free from the worries of her simplistic life. But not like this. She was trapped, her limbs were wooden, and no one came to save her.

They left her alone. All alone.

She squeezed her eyes tight, the vision was blurring, static filling her ears, and she was running out of air as she saw their faces fade away. More and more arms gripped her body and pulled her deep down with them.

“Stay with us Marcy.”

Then she screamed.

Marcy sprung from the mattress, heaving in heavy gasps. She tried to evaluate her surroundings, but her vision was hazy and the mucus around her eyes practically glued them shut.

In her temporary blindness, her other senses became dominant. Her ears picked up distant hums of crickets and cicadas in the fields, echoing from underground in their stone fortress. She licked her cracked lips, a strange taste of mildew. Something had her arm restrained. She flailed and twisted to shake it off, but it held firm. 

Rough, bumpy fingers stroked downwards. Calloused hands, bruised and covered in deep scars. She could feel every lesion on the bumpy skin. They weren’t smooth or powder soft and yet the motion of them trailing up and down her arms made her relaxed.

The bridge of her nose burned and her eyes finally laid upon the figure. It was Grime. The gesture caught her off guard and she questioned whether he had done it before, but she couldn’t speak and Grime was not intent on revealing vulnerable truths.

Something tickled the back of Marcy’s throat, and she sucked in a large gust of air. Grime acted in a flash, grabbing the nearest container and passing it to her.

Marcy gripped it and poured out the contents of her stomach. It wasn’t much, having had very little to eat for the last several days, so she ended up mostly dry heaving. Tears flowed down her cheeks and Grime pulled back her hair to massage her neck. The brief action caused a slight shiver, pointing to the recent incident. But he was gentle, something she didn’t expect from someone born in fire and brimstone.

His hand returned to her arm while the other cradled her neck. She heaved in strained breaths, but it was hard to fill her lungs with oxygen with how tight they were squeezing. Tears escaped and fell in rivers down her puffy cheeks. Joe stirred for a moment but quickly fell back asleep. 

Then Grime held out a goblet to her silently. “Drink,” he ordered.

Marcy stared for a long beat, feeling more bile work its way up her throat. She glanced up, sending him the same look she gave the school nurse when urged to drink fluids after a fainting spell. 

Grime was not the school nurse. He didn’t wear a warm expression or speak with a certain softness. His body posture was stiff and unapproachable, and his bedside manner would be considered atrocious. But in his single eye was a tiny glint of warmth, separate from the rest of his body. 

She tucked her lower lip behind her front teeth as her gaze returned to the cup. 

“It’ll help with nausea,” he assured her.

With a shaky hand, Marcy tentatively brought the cup to her lips. She found tilting her head back to be a struggle so Grime supported her. Slowly, the warm liquid trickled down her throat. It was sweet and almost had an herbal-like quality - thicker than green tea, but no denser than milk. 

Marcy drank a few sips before shoving the cup away, and thankfully, Grime did not force her to finish. 

Her body shook as another wave came over her, and her arms rattled in turn. The force was too much on her fragile body and she curled up on the bed tucking her legs to her chest, as her stomach pulsed. Eventually, the episode died off and Marcy collapsed back to the bed.

Grime rose and turned to leave, but Marcy whimpered, reaching out a shaky arm. He soon stopped in the doorway and turned back to her, catching her pleading eyes half-lidded, and tear-filled, and so, so very tired. With a heavy sigh, he relented and sat beside her. Marcy did not have it in her to smile or feel relieved by his company. All she could do was flop her weighted head against the captain’s shoulder and let the last bits of energy leave her body.

Lady Olivia was rather unpleased with the frenzy of panicked newts clambering through the castle. One little girl goes missing and suddenly it’s as if there’s a hoard of killer herons outside the city walls. Leviathan and Sasha were seemingly absent as well, causing the guards to grow restless after their disappearance. Some even dared accuse her of aiding in the traitor’s escape, saying she and the human had grown remarkably close.

The whole idea was preposterous. Master Marcy was the newly appointed royal advisor and she herself was the head steward, tasked with showing the girl their cultured ways. It was only natural their paths would cross.

Her adoration for the girl was simply related to that of an adolescent being stranded from their homeland and requiring appropriate care. It did not signify an emotional attachment. 

She was currently hiding out in the drawing room to avoid being pestered with their incessant questions.

It was not as if the girl had been filling an empty void. Consisting of a boundless curiosity Olivia recognized in herself. Or the adorable way Marcy’s eyes lit up at the mention of staying at the palace. Or the giggle that bubbled from her lips when she talked about various species of fauna. 

Marcy Wu was a wonderful child all things considered, but Olivia was no parent. She had quit the idea of motherhood long ago after her own mother was abruptly taken from her. Instead, she stayed rooted to the palace, bound by a birthright of tending to the land, preserving the legacy of their ancestors for generations to come, all the while keeping Newtopia the magnificent city it had grown to be.

Yet, there was something fascinating about the girl. A well of knowledge longing to be filled with every piece of Amphibian history. 

Before Marcy, Olivia’s days were structured and predictable. She didn’t think her life could grow any duller. But when the human appeared, she was suddenly thrown into this chaotic wind, and a thrill rose from within her that she hadn’t known to exist.

As Marcy grew more fond of Amphibia, her friends soon followed. Anne was alright, mischievous, and needed redirection but a sweetheart nonetheless. The Plantar children were rowdy and impulsive, having had too much freedom and not enough structure - quite typical for those raised in the countryside, to be honest. 

And then there was Sasha. From the instant Marcy spoke of her, she seemed to be an impudent brat who disregarded orders. She thought the world was hers and bullied the meek to get what she wanted, never considering the consequences. She was rude and defiant and didn’t honor her elders. Meeting her in person only served to solidify these notions.

Unlike Marcy who was gentle spring - warm and flourishing with life, Sasha was a frigid winter - withering from within and displaying an icy demeanor. She locked her vulnerabilities behind a wall of physical strength and dominance - common behaviors of a soldier likely instilled into her at that boorish toad camp. 

Regardless of Olivia’s displeasure, she was still a child. And placing such a wide amount of pressure upon a child was nothing less than cruel.

Despite their best efforts, Olivia and Yunnan failed to reach the rebellious teen. Over time, she grew more distant, barely speaking and only ever going into detail when delivering an order or debriefing a mission. She never smiled. Even Yunnan noticed that the thrilling confidence present during their first encounter was gone, snuffed out like a withering flame.  

Yunnan carried her to bed when the poor girl had driven herself to exhaustion and Olivia brought her meals when she refused to eat. She had not known Sasha as long as Marcy, and therefore did not care for her in the same manner. But still, watching her walk through life like a shell was sickening.

Whispers from nearby had caught her attention and she followed them into the hall. When she was a girl, waiting for her mother, she would spy on the servants and listen to their daily gossip.

One of the voices was young and bore a dangerous edge, the other diminished confidence. Quietly, she peeked out from the banister and saw an esteemed general and a weary thirteen-year-old standing by the pillars. They were tucked away in a small corner, engaged in a conversation not privy to the rest of the castle.

Olivia flushed her body against the wall and raised an ear.

“You have your assignment. Normally, I wouldn’t ask so highly of you. But admittedly, you are the best tracker in the nation. See that she is found and brought back to me.”

All of a sudden, Sasha gripped her head. A snarl ripped from her clenched teeth, imitating an injured beast. 

“General, are you alright?” Yunnan asked.

“Fine,” she ground out. “Amazed actually, how one of my best soldiers could be so incompetent.”

Yunan bowed her head. “Apologies General.”

“Honestly, she has a pet bird for Christ’s sake. You didn’t think to bar the windows?”

The newt stepped back with wide eyes. “Well, certainly you didn’t mean to incarcerate her.”

Sasha’s eyes flashed. For a split second, Olivia swore they had changed color. She would’ve written it off as a trick of the light if not for the fact that Yunnan was gaping at them as well.

“She was not to leave the palace! I thought I made that explicitly clear!”

The blonde turned away and heaved several breaths that sounded more like staggered gasps. Her chest was pulsing so hard, they came out as wheezes. When she turned back, the fire had died from her eyes, and resumed the lifeless stare.

“This is your final warning Yunan. Your esteemed status in the king’s army means nothing. So mark my words.” Sasha leaned up against the newt until their noses were practically touching. She fisted her hand inside the collar of the salamander’s cape, choking her. “If you do not report back to me with Marcy in tow, I will make your life a living hell. You hear me?”

Yunan grimaced and gave a plastic nod. “It will be done, general.”

With a hard shove, Sasha released her grip and flung the newt backward. “Now get out of my sight.”

Yunan quickly retreated in the opposite direction as the human stomped away, down the hall. Thankfully neither had noticed the newt among them. Lady Olivia looked between the two before narrowing her eyes and following suit.

Marcy woke to the prospect of pinching her nostrils and gagging. She followed the rancid stench into the makeshift kitchen equipped with a gas stove. A bubbling gurgle sounded from the stovetop, where (who else) Grime was hunched over with a stack of burnt pancakes. The sight was almost as atrocious as the smell, and Marcy was within inches from bursting out the door.

“Breakfast.” Grime barely acknowledged her as he set down the delectable dish.

Clearly, the events of that morning were not to be mentioned.

Marcy prodded the dish, debating on whether any part of it was edible. 

“Problem, Ghost Girl?”

“This doesn’t appear to be very… nutritious,” Marcy said, face curling with disgust.

Grime growled, stabbing his fork through the center, skewering a large roach which had crawled up the table, before being devoured in a single bit. Marcy cringed at the brutality. She was an avid bug eater but at least the newts were civil and prepared theirs in fine delicacies.

“We all don’t live in lavish comfort,” he said with a snarl. “Some of us are forced to the cold, brutal way of a camp. So shut up and eat.”

Marcy swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes and funneling the substance down her throat. She coughed a bit and immediately reached for the chalice of water. It slid down her throat like mud and tasted no better. A weird concoction overly seasoned with ingredients that probably spoiled weeks ago.

“Atta soldier,” Grime praised, taking another spoonful for himself. “Down the hatch.”

Marcy got through as much of the stuff she could take before her stomach grumbled in protest.

“Well then, Ghost Girl, do you actually have a plan in place or was that speech last night a load of bullshit?”

So he did remember the night.

“Sure do. Sasha might not listen to either of us, but I know someone she will believe.”

“I’m listening.”

“Anne,“ Marcy clarified. “Those two were peas in a pod growing up. If we get Anne to talk with her, she’ll listen hands down.”

Grime hated to admit it, but even he recognized the blind loyalty in Sasha the moment he found her. Sasha was not an open book, she kept her feelings hidden beneath the surface. Only a select few were able to knock those walls down. But if there was ever a person who managed to do it, it was Anne. 

Not Marcy. Marcy was flighty and curious, eagerly jumpin down rabbit holes and digging her noses in places she shouldn’t. Meanwhile, Anne was grounded, conversational, and perceptive. She would manage to get Sasha to see reason, guaranteed.

“Brilliant. Except for the fact that Anne’s in another world and we have no way to contact her.”

“Not exactly.” 

Grime looked up with his brow creased.

“My knowledge of the gems may be limited but I do recall a specific passage about the transfer of energy. See, the stones are old, eons old actually. Their existence predates most studies on the matter. Contrary to popular belief, the music box is not the source of the gem’s power; it is only a vessel. A team of scientists created it as a way to filter its magic for… certain purposes.”

“What purposes?” questioned the toad.

Marcy shook her head. “That’s not important. The point is the stones are an embodiment of pure, raw energy. It is said they share a symbiotic bond with each other and when one is enacted, the others will sense its presence.”

“So you three can communicate via the stones?” Grime asked.

“Theoretically. Although, the book didn’t provide any details on how to accomplish that.”

Grime huffed. “Then what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Anne is the prime example of a social butterfly. If she was experiencing symptoms from the stones beforehand, there’s a high probability she told somebody.”

Grime huffed. “Like how you two did.”

“Sasha never mentioned anything about side effects or sudden bursts of energy?”

Grime stroked his chin thoughtfully. “She may have commented how her muscles were stronger but said it was likely a result of her flexing more.”

Marcy gave a slight laugh. ‘Course she did. “Anyhoo, our best bet is to go back to Wartwood.”

All the delicious food lodged in Grime’s throat ended up all over the table as he coughed up the remaining bits. He stared at her baffled, with a complete “Are you insane?” look in his eye. She recognized that look. It often prompted Marcy to explain her reasoning before the shocked expression shifted to apologetic and even impressed. But Grime’s did not.

“You expect us to just happily waltz right into town like the chummy chums we are? In case your head got damaged in that fight, my army and I invaded it.”

“That was over a year ago; I doubt they've held a grudge for that long. Besides, you were permissible to compete in the battle of the bands. Once we warn them about Andrias, it’ll be water under the bridge.”

Grime nodded slowly. “Mhm and I’m sure mine and Sasha’s claim on the capitol won’t faze them either.”

Marcy grimaced, fiddling with the edges of her tunic beneath the table. “Well, maybe we don’t tell them that part.”

Grime’s eye widened before his lips curled into a sly smirk. “Bless me Barrel, the conniving human is still not above petty lies. Hah, nice to know some things never change.”

Marcy glared. “It’s not lying; it’s omitting the truth. We’ll still explain how King Andrias is corrupt and has the music box, just not the means with how he got it.”

“Still sounds like a shot in the dark if you ask me.”

“Or we could try it your way and attack random soldiers in the dark with the blind hope they’ll take us to Sasha.”

Grime growled. “I should’ve wrung your neck.”

Marcy wore a satisfied smirk, recognizing she had won the argument. "These tunnels will lead us out of the countryside in secret, then it's a good seventeen-day trip. Based on our rations and the stasis of Joe’s wing, I estimate three weeks to get to Frog Valley.”

Grime seemed annoyed with the duration, but he was too tired to argue. Marcy was glad about that. Her body had fought enough battles lately. They finished mapping out the routes and packing for the upcoming journey. When the sun fell, a sparrow, human, and toad set off for a small town across the countryside.

Anne steeled at the edge of the walkway, gazing up at the same old house she’d known since birth. It was older than the street itself, having outlived most of the renovated buildings and road pavements. Her tongue scraped against the back of her teeth.

It looked just as she remembered it: rimmed by a white picket fence with a hole in the side, the freshly cut lawn slightly underwatered, a Thai bronze indol kneeling in front, and of course the prime feature: a mini Thai herb garden along the side.

It wasn’t extravagant like Sasha’s glass palace, and yet it was a piece of her. Every formative year was etched into her memory like the dents in the walls and the stains on the carpet. For teenagers, bringing your friends over was the highest honor - a clear demonstration of one's status. 

It’s why Sasha always had lavish parties at her place - inviting the entire student body. Anne never felt comfortable bringing that many people over. On the count of her house being rather small and simple, it didn’t seem like the type to catch the envy of her peers. Regardless of that, it was the central place of residence for their sleepovers. It was a safe haven after the craziness one only endured in middle school, where she could kick off her shoes and relax in the quiet splendor of this tiny corner of paradise.

Her breath hitched at the middle-aged woman kneeling in the soil. Their hair was longer, pulled back with a headscarf, it’s grey roots showing now that the hair dye had worn off. Her form was a bit thinner as if she had lost weight. Her fingers moved slowly, gathering the small mounds of dirt and padding them around the base of the galangal. Despite having known this person her entire life, the lady now appeared like a stranger.

Anne attempted to move forward and say something. Anything. But it was no use. She couldn’t speak. Her tongue scraped against the backs of her teeth and her brain screamed at her to act. She didn’t realize she was shaking until a slippery palm slipped inside hers.

HopPop’s eyes were still faced forward but a thumb over her knuckle told her he was there. 

“Anne licked at her dry lips. “W-what do I say?”

“Just go up there, darling.”

Despite having never met her parents, there wasn’t any trace of doubt in the elder’s tone as he spoke, and Anne was inclined to believe him.

She sucked in another gulp of air and faced her house once more.

She had imagined this moment a hundred times over - standing on the front step with her two best friends on either side, hands linked together. They would go to Anne’s first (because the Boonchuys would be far better at explaining the situation to other parents) then Marcy’s, and finally Sasha’s. And every time would be a homecoming. The bright smile tearing her cheeks and her twitching knees would be evidence of this.

But she wasn’t bouncing for joy. She was trembling, with her frog family stranded from their home and her two former friends on death’s doorstep, and no way to get back to them. The jubilation was gone, instead replaced with a pulsing worry. And the worst was the guilt. A horrible sensation that slowly ate away at her soul, devouring it from the inside out.

Her feet were cemented into the concrete. She was trespassing on sacred ground and if her feet touched it, her body would combust into flame.

Behind her, she heard a slight ruffle of fabric. Although Sprig had not moved from his spot, his eyes shone a desperate plea, begging to follow. He wanted to be with her during this crucial moment. And she really wanted him there. Frog, she did. But suddenly showing up with a band of personified frogs would give her parents heart attacks, if the sight of her hadn’t already. She had to do this alone.

“Um, you three stay here. I’ll be... back,” she instructed before taking tentative steps toward the house until she was standing right behind her mother.

It was surprising how Mrs. Boonchuy didn't even notice. Not a single strand of hair bristled at the intrusive presence. She just continued gardening, as if Anne were a ghost.

Shifting on her feet, Anne debated what to say. Should she announce her arrival? She didn’t want to scare her. Her mouth opened a few times but fell shut soon after. 

Anne had rarely ever been at a loss for words. The social constructions were a minefield for Marcy and a gladiator match for Sasha but for Anne, they were as mindless as breathing. She could create a conversation with the slightest buildup. The only time she even faltered was back in kindergarten. Being the shy kid with parents who had thick accents and strange customs, made her a mark amongst her peers. But at least she had Sasha and Marcy to help integrate her into a westernized society.

Now speaking to the woman who gave her life suddenly rose a massive wave of anxiety within her. Clever wording was gone and she said the first thing that came to mind.

“They look good.”

“They’re dried out from the heat. I need to replenish the soil…” The woman stopped, her body turning rigid. 

For a split second, something in Anne’s gut told her to flee. This was a mistake and they wouldn’t want to see her anyway. Why should they? This was all her fault in the first place.

She skipped the party. She stole the music box. She was so blinded by her anger at Sasha, she failed to see the warning signs. She failed to see how miserable Marcy was. She failed to bring them both home!

Anne watched mechanically at every movement. Tension in the shoulders, a slow turn until wide glassy eyes were staring into hers. 

“Anne,” she breathed.

Instantly, Anne lost her voice. Bringing up a shy hand with a shaky grin, she mouthed some words but no sound left her lips. 

There was a sharp intake of air followed by a clatter of feet. The movement was instantaneous. Soft arms looped around Anne, squeezing tightly. The younger felt a laugh of relief bubble out of her as her eyes started streaming with tears. 

Oh my baby, my sweet, sweet, wonderful baby.” Mrs. Boonchuy muttered in Thai, kissing her daughter on the head. “Dear, come outside, hurry!”

A panicked voice sounded from inside the house. “Oum, is everything alright?”

“Front Yard.”

“What happened? Are you hu--”

Anne’s jaw dropped at a face in the doorway. He had her caramel eyes and curved nose. Her heart pounded faster in her chest. “Dad!”

“No way, Anne! Anne!! You’re alive!”

He picked her up and twirled her around in his arms. Anne’s laughter echoed through the streets. It had been forever since she felt a warm body flush against hers. Oum smelled of flowers and spices, while Bee smelled of wood shillings and dish detergent. 

Their daughter was back from the dead and cradled in their arms. Filled with overwhelming emotion, they slowly sunk to the floor, arms still tightly wrapped around each other. Everything inside Anne poured out. She had been holding back a dam and her parents allowed it to flow. To them, she was just relieved to be back. They didn’t need to know the crippling guilt she was burdening.

In her joy, she had forgotten the three individuals she left on the sidewalk until something tugged on her pant leg.

She looked over her shoulder at Sprig, glancing up nervously, and smiled at him. Then she turned back to her parents who were both wearing confused and slightly shocked expressions.

“Mom, Dad, there's someone I’d like you to meet.”

Being without Sprig was lonely. When they parted ways for his trip to Newtopia, he gave her a peck on the cheek and promised he would be back soon. But after an entire month had passed, that’s when the young frog grew anxious and she started to doubt if she would ever see his face again. It didn’t help that word spread like wildfire through the valley about a massive showdown at the Newtopian palace involving a group of human traitors.

Ivy wasn’t gullible. She knew that if Sprig had any part in this “assassination,” there was a reason for it. Despite being sheltered, she was well aware people were sleazy and corrupt when her father was led into a Scorpio trap.

Had the king not closed off passage into the city, she would have seen to disprove these rumors herself. Unfortunately, all trade routes to Newtopia were blocked and none were allowed outside the town barriers without committing treason. 

So she waited with eager restlessness, honing her fighting skills for the day she would jump the wall and find her boyfriend. The only way to take out the king’s guards was to work on one’s hand-eye coordination and quick reflexes. She flicked her wrist back, tossing the copper disc at the tree tops when a cry sounded from them.

“Oof”

A human, with short raven hair, lay on the grassy floor. With one hand, she carefully pushed herself to a knee while the other rubbed the side of her head. “I think this is yours,” she said, holding out the slim metal object.

Ivy apologized after seeing the tiny red bump forming on the girl’s forehead.

“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance.” 

The frog looked up to catch the rest of the party. The infamous Captain Grime was seated on the back of a giant sparrow. The bird swept downward and picked up the end of the ranger’s cloak in his beak before tossing her back onto his back.

“Hey, you’re one of Anne’s earth friends, aren't ya? I told them you were still alive.”

“Debatable,” Grime grunted.

“Ignore him,” the human dismissed with a wave of her hand before extending it outright. Hi! I don’t think we properly met. I’m Marcy.”

Ivy returned the shake. “Ivy Sundew. Nice to meetcha.”

“Hey Ivy, have you seen anyone? We’ve been flying around for a while but the town’s pretty quiet.”

“Oh, that’s probably because they're all in the square. It is Market Day after all. C’mon, they’ll be ecstatic to see ya.”

Grime shared a look with Marcy, “Oh, they’ll be ecstatic alright.”

In the marketplace, there was faded energy amongst the locals. They shoveled produce into their baskets with low mumbles and nary a smile. Even the children were quiet, standing beside their parents instead of laughing and running through the streets. It was not the town Marcy encountered during her short stay.

Suddenly, someone screamed and all eyes shot to the sky as a giant sparrow flitted down upon them.

The scene had drawn such a commotion that passersby quickly gathered in the square.

“Ivy!” A sharp southern belle sounded from the crowd followed by a dainty frog in a high-waist skirt.

The aforementioned backflipped off Joe landing almost perfectly before her mother. 

“Young lady, those wild antics are going to give me a near-darned heart attack.”

Ivy rolled her eyes but walked over and allowed the elder’s hands to fuss over her. “Don’t sweat, Mom; I’m fine.” She whined, holding out her arms to show there were no lacerations on them. “Besides, I brought some visitors.”

Mrs. Sundew had now just taken notice of the strangers sitting atop the bird. Unfortunately, so did the rest of the town.

“Listen up frogs of Wartwood,” Grime announced as if were addressing an army. “We come with news.”

“Get outta here, ya scum!” Cried an elderly woman as she swatted her cane in the air. A tiny black spider growled beside her, protecting his master.

Grime leaned over to whisper in Marcy’s ear, “Don’t hold grudges eh?”

“Wait, everybody!” Marcy flailed her arms in the air but was soon thrown off balance and clattered to the floor. Groaning, she brushed the dirt from her face.

“Apprentice!” A raspy voice suddenly breached the crowd.

“Heya Teach!” Marcy waved, coming to greet Maddie in the center, where their hands fused together in a secret handshake. “Crinkly Spiders.”

The two friends erupted in a chorus of laughter. 

“How’s the spell-casting going?”

Maddie presented herself proudly. “I'm only one year away from becoming a level three witch.”

“Nice work!” Marcy praised, congratulating her with a high five.

Three more voices entered the fray. 

“What took you so long?” 

“Are you really an assassin?” 

“Did you die?”

One by one, Maddie’s little sisters popped from the crowd, each dawning a spanking new pair of legs just as Polly did. 

Marcy didn’t know what to say, but thankfully the eldest rushed to corral the pollywogs, whispering how they shouldn't ask such things in public. 

The trio’s comments lit a stick of dynamite. Whispers rippled through the crowd. All at once rumors and false accusations were hurled towards the two newcomers.

“Why did you come back?”

“What happened to the Plantars?"

“Y’all ain’t welcome here!”

Marcy deflated. Weeks of slowly garnering respect for the town only for it to be shot down by her own reckless actions.

“Now, now, settle down.” A buttery smooth tone quieted the chatter. Mayor Toadstool pushed through the mass in his expensive robes and drapery. “We’re a respectful group, ain’t we? Let’s hear these fine folks out,” he offered, giving them the floor. 

The relentless chatter dulled to mutters and every eye singled in on her. Marcy stood frozen even though she rarely got stage fright. The most recent memory was during her first-grade recital when she tripped and fell off the stage. But now their eyes bore down on her like hot, blinding spotlights.

Everyone’s face told a different story. Some were shocked, some disgusted, some terrified, and among the very few, relieved. 

She took in several breaths before finally addressing the masses.

“Our quest to Newtopia did not go as planned. King Andrias, he…” she faltered, clenching her fists. A firm hand grasped hers. She glanced back to see Grime behind her and found the words to continue.

 “He lied. He had no intention of helping us. He was only using me to get the music box. We barely made it out alive.” Some of us, not even.

Whispers rang out from the crowd. “Don’t believe her. She’s one of the humans. She probably stole it. Andrias is a great ruler. You think I'd believe a bunch of outsiders over him?”

Marcy strained to ignore them. “We fought him as best we could but it wasn’t enough. Anne and the Plantars managed to escape through the portal while Sasha and I stayed behind.” 

A hand flew to her heart as the memory of Andrias’s sword ripping into her, flooded her mind. Hot white agony turned her entire body numb. It was so long ago and yet still so vivid.

Ivy tentatively stepped forward. “So Sprig’s stuck in another world?” 

The worry was evident on the frog’s face and it pained Marcy to nod at her question. Ivy crumpled up, staring with wide eyes at the floor. Although her eyes didn't shine with tears, a deep shadow settled behind the frazzled hair and beanie.

“Why’d the king want the music box?” piped an elderly frog. “And how did it even get to Amphibia in the first place?” 

Marcy’s whole body shook. She was wrong. This was too hard.

Grime stepped forward and stood upon the soap box. “The details don’t matter. Point is, the king is a ruthless dictator that must be stopped.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” All attention turned to a stuffy newt dressed in a button-down coat and French chapeau. 

Marcy recognized him instantly. Albus Duckweed, Amphibia’s finest food critic. Per Andrias' request, he stayed at the palace once and was presented with the land's finest cuisine. While barreling him with a boatful of questions, Marcy quickly learned one thing about Albus. He was very difficult to please.

With his nose upturned, he addressed the duo. His eyes showed a gleeful challenge when they fixed upon Grime and immediately, a bout of worry rose within Marcy.

“We’re humbled citizens, not brutes,” he continued. "You’re expecting us to turn against our own monarch?”

“I think you should be more grateful, considering we’re risking our necks to protect you.”

Then the pretentious newt heaved a belly laugh that caused the captain's jaw to clench. “You. Last I checked you and your army almost destroyed our fair village. Why in Frog's name, should we believe a word you say”

The townsfolk roared in agreement.

“And where is Sasha? It sounds like she attacked unprovoked.”

“No,” Toadie insisted. “Sasha wouldn’t do that to us. Deep down, I know she cares.”

“Oh, and when did she tell you this? Months ago, when she was gaslighting you? She’s a manipulator. She played us all like a fiddle and probably tricked the king into helping them get the music box. Why I bet those humans conspired together and stole it.”

Grime measured himself for a fight, taking a heavy step forward. “Say one more word against my lieutenant, I dare you.”

Marcy tugged him back before things got out of hand. “Grime, you can’t feed into them.”

“Don’t you hear the slander they’re spewing on Sasha?”

“I know, I know. But we need their cooperation if we're to have any chance of saving her.”

Huffing, the captain stood down and Marcy approached the crowd.

“Look everyone, I know you may not trust me. But you do trust Anne, don't you? Think of everything she's done for this town. All I want is to make sure she's safe. Help us find a way back to Earth. Then we can all stop Andrias together.”

Still conflicted, the frogs exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward.

“I trust you,” Maddie declared, placing her palm atop Marcy’s. 

As do I,” confirmed Loggle.

“Count me in,” said Ivy.

Leaping from the crowd, one eyed Wally played a cheery chord on his accordion and added his hand. “For Anne.”

“And Sasha,” affirmed Toadie, who was a short step behind him.

“Ah what the heck, of course, we’re with you, deary. 

One by one most of the town residents offered their assistance. Some were still wary and did not fully agree, but the majority were on board and that’s all she could ask for.

Mayor Toadstool spoke again, adjusting his six carrot belt-buckle. “Well, then in good faith, you two are welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”

Mrs. Sundew rushed over and took both their cheeks in her hands.

As her name implied, she carried a sugary sweet tone with a dangerous edge. Similar to Olivia in a lot of ways except the latter wore a more Mona Lisa-Esq frown and Felicia was always always smiling. Oftentimes, to an unnatural degree. Her smile was so wide and so bright, it felt plastered to her face like she’d seen on those business executives from her dad’s work meetings. It made Marcy uneasy.

“Oh, you poor dears, must’ve been traveling all night. What you need is a good night of rest and a home-cooked meal. You’re coming with me.” She insisted.

“Free food eh? Don’t mind if I do,” replied Grime, happily rubbing at his stomach.

Marcy was less enthusiastic and slowly backed away. “Oh thank you, Mrs. Sundew--” 

“Felica sweetie, we’re friends now after all.”

Stumbling, Marcy collected herself. “Okay, Felicia, look I wish we could stay, but I need to do some research.”

The elder gave a firm shake of her head. “I won’t take no for an answer. Ivy, help our visitors to the guest house, won’t ya?”

The young frog nodded, hurrying behind to take Joe’s reins. Marcy’s protests died in her throat as she was led away.

The two followed Felicia through the town. The streets carried a certain weight to them. Familiar paths untrodden when they would visit Sasha at the guest house. The stage in the town square where they performed. The late night they spent together at a reunion of the dusk till dawn sleepovers. During those times, Marcy would chew the inside of her cheek, give faint grins and duck her eyes so she wouldn’t squeal, knowing full well they weren't going home, and praying in the long run they’d choose to stay with her. 

Not only that but the town itself had changed, at least in the time Marcy saw it. Every so often the frogs would send one another the cold shoulder or a mumbled insult. And those that set upon Marcy glared. She felt exposed and brought her hands closer to her chest for comfort.

“Your steed can rest here,” Felicia said, “while we accompany the two of you in our guest room.”

She gestured to the large pen wrapped around the side of the teashop, rimmed by a wooden fence. The stone path was now a grassy field with hay bales stacked. An overturned teacup acted as a small hut and snuggled inside lay a seashell-pink snail. 

“Is that Bessie?” Marcy pointed.

Upon seeing her, Joe’s feathers fluffed and hopped over.

“Yup,” nodded Ivy. “We’ve been taking care of her until the Plantars returned. Loggle built the pen and everything."

Upon seeing her old friend, Bessie purred, snuggling the sparrow.

"When Ivy first posed the idea to me, I was skeptical. Snails are rather messy. But she’s proven herself quite responsible if I do say so myself. She keeps Bessie fed and has even mastered riding her, “Felicia gushed.

Her daughter however was tugging her beanie over her head in embarrassment. “Mom, please don’t talk about me like I'm not here,” she whined.

Felicia turned with her hands on her hips. “Well, Frog forbid if I can't show pride in my child for once.”

The banter between Ivy and their mother was an estrangement Marcy had never seen. Their chatter had a playful element, starting with a snarky remark from Ivy and finishing with a sideways smirk from Felicia. There was a mutual feel to it. Felicia wasn’t belittling her child and Ivy wasn’t apologizing whilst staring at her feet. It was nice.

Bessie finally took notice of Marcy and her heart squeezed. She slithered over and pressed her face into Marcy’s hands, nuzzling them. After being petted, Bessie pulled away and stretched her neck from side to side as if she were searching for something. When she didn’t see it, she looked at Marcy with curious eyes and the girl's heart squeezed. 

“No girl,” she answered with a sad smile. “They’re not here.”

Bessie whined, dipping her head and pushing her mussel into Marcy’s palm. 

“M’Sorry”, she muttered.

Felicia’s voice broke through the silence. “Come along, dear. Don’t doddle.” 

Reluctantly, Marcy followed and sulked over to Grime.

“What happened to all that blind optimism you displayed earlier?”

“Look at her,” Marcy muttered, eyelids flickering across the path. “She’s all alone.”

“Who? The snail?”

“They've been gone for months. She must be so sad.”

Grime looked about to tear his hair out (if he had any). “Unbelievable! You're getting sentimental over a damn snail! Toughen up, soldier. These are the consequences of war. Live with them and move on.”

But Marcy couldn’t help but look back at the damage she'd done.

The poor, lonesome snail huddled in the corner of a stranger’s house, painfully waiting for her family to return.

A family torn apart.

All thanks to her.

Dark water sloshed over her knee-high armored boots as she waded through the Newtopian bay. 

Since her initiation, she placed it upon herself to fight in the king’s honor. Loyalty to the crown was a serious ordeal and newts laid down their lives for it. After being thrust into the foster system at such an early age, she worked hard to earn her place in the king’s army. Her superiors doubted that a soldier of her age and gender could ever rise to the highest rank. And yet, with every victorious battle she proved them all wrong. The severed heads of beasts she slayed, now adorning the royal armory, were further evidence of this.

At that time, she never would have questioned her allegiance. But that's the funny thing about perception. It’s altered over time and morally sound ideals of the past may not align with that of the future. 

So now, she was slinking behind the palace in the dead of night, a heavy satchel slung across her shoulder as she passed through the stoned gates. What once served as a means of protection for the citizens inside had become nothing more than a prison. But even Andrias’ robots did not journey beyond the walls that encased the city.

She whistled and a sharp cry breached the air, soon followed by a blue whisk, skidding to a halt through the waters.

Standing before Yunan was a majestic blue jay dawning a silver chest plate engraved with the royal crest.

Even though the wind hadn’t so much as bristled, her head shot back, scanning the area for intruders. Placated, she turned back to the steed and saddled it. 

As she did so, a smile tugged on her lips.

“It won’t work!”

The strange creature known as “Marcy” sunk her head in her hands with an exasperated sigh.

Despite the fact that she had only been in the city for a mere month, she had already been accepted as a ranger. Her training had been tedious but Marcy was ever persevering and had surpassed every challenge presented. After so much adversity, it was a wonder why she had only now started to lack confidence.

“That’s because you’re clenching your wrist too tight. Here, relax your arm.” Yunan cupped her palm over the smaller one, guiding her wrist. “Now, aim at the target, and gently release the trigger,” she instructed.

Hand over hand, Marcy did as she was told, and the arrow speared through the bullseye with perfect precision.

“Hah, it worked!”

“Not bad, ranger. You may have a place in the Newtopian army yet.”

Marcy beamed but not before metallic extensions shot out of Yunan’s gauntlets.

“Think fast!”

The girl ducked as Yunan’s blades slashed at her from the air. Marcy fired her crossbow and the arrow bounced off the metal. “Yes, yes,” the newt praised, turning to a parry and swiping her knives towards the girl’s legs.

Marcy jumped over them. When Yunan spun to meet her, the arrow whizzed by her neck, taking a layer of skin with it. Yunan calmly drew her fingers away to find drops of blood.

With a startled gasp, Marcy’s hands flew over her mouth. “I-I’m so sorry General. I didn’t mean to--”

But the teen’s panicked ramblings were cut off by a hearty chuckle. “Huzzah! That’s what I’m talking about. You may be fit for a general yet” 

Marcy’s wide eyes fixed on the newt.

“You have your stance, your skill. Now you just need a title. For example, I am General Yunan--”

“Scourge of the sandwars!” Marcy cut in.

Yunan pawed the back of her neck. “Heh, I guess I’ve already recited it a few times,” she replied sheepishly. “Alright chief ranger, it’s all you,” She stepped back, allowing Marcy access to the floor.

“Um, I’m Marcy Wu--” 

“LOUDER! PRESENT YOURSELF WITH BRAVADO!”

Marcy sucked in air and straightened her spine, shouting, “I’M MARCY WU, CHIEF RANGER, PERSONAL ADVISOR TO THE KING, AND THE FIRST HUMAN EVER TO BE ACCEPTED INTO THE NEWTOPIAN NIGHT GUARD!”

Marcy yelped as Yunan hoisted her up onto her shoulders, declaring proudly,  “Let us all pay respect to our glorious leader!” 

Their barking laughter bounced off the spires and chorused throughout the city.

Still smiling, Yunan jerked her head to the side, listening for the tiniest sound. She waited for a beat and then with a sly twinkle in her eye, spun the intruder by their shoulders, who squealed in turn. “Gotcha!”

“Unhand me this instant.”

With wide eyes, the grip was released and one newt stumbled backward while the other fixed the ruffles in her blouse.”

“M-My deepest apologies, milady, I did not realize it was you.”

Olivia glowered. “Must you be so rough?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be parading the grounds at night," Yunan said with a wide smirk.

“Is it a crime to wander the city?”

“At this time, yes. All non-military personnel have curfews. It’s not safe for you to be up and about.”

"Don’t chastise me, general. I am a woman of stature. I do not answer to such ridiculous decretum. If I wish to go for an evening stroll, then that is my prerogative and should not be determined by some faulty decree.”

"Shh, Keep your voice down," Yunan scolded. “You know I’ve been stripped of that title.”

Olivia shook her head. “Are you honestly scared of an adolescent?”

“She happens to be my superior.”

The lady scoffed. “King Andrias may hold power over the nation, but I for one will not follow orders from a mere child. And I implore you to do the same.”

Yunan hummed playfully. “You’re upset with me.”

"Rather disappointed," Olivia conferred. “I know of your intention to hunt down Master Marcy and I can not abide it.”

“You overheard the general and I, then?” Yunan said with a wry grin. “You know, eavesdropping is not very becoming.”

“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. You know as well as I that we owe our lives to that child. From the moment she walked into our city, we swore to care for her as if she were one of our own. And now you’re willing to deny all that just because of your title. Does your blind loyalty outweigh your moral judgment, general?”

Yunan paused for a second, drinking in Olivia's angry expression and then she laughed.

Olivia, as expected, was not pleased. “I fail to see the humor.”

Yunan simply smiled. “Of course not. But I will need to aid Master Marcy. Honestly, milady, I am not so foolish as to forsake my oath.”

Olivia tilted her head to the side. “But isn’t your oath to the crown?”

"My oath is both to serve under the King and to protect the kingdom. As a result of serving him, however, I only cause harm. Quite a contradiction, I must admit. Therefore, I cannot fulfill my oath lest I abandon it."

Her logic was flawed, she recognized that. But at least they were both in accordance with the human now.

Olivia glanced back at the city before pushing through and mounting the bird. “I’m driving,” she insisted, seizing control of the reins and Yunan did not protest. 

On the back of the jay, they swept into the night sky with the remnants of red moonlight dripping off its wings. And the sole memory of a sweet little girl guiding their every movement.

The red orbs in the distance blended in with the stars as they vanished from view.

Chapter Text

The bathroom door slams shut with a hard crack and trembling hands grip the base of the sink. The walls are crushing her, making it difficult to breathe. All she can do is heave painful gasps as her lungs beg for air. A dark shadow breaches her reflection, clusters of bright orange eyes tearing into her.

Although she can’t see the pink veins climbing up her arms or the cracked scars on her cheeks, she can feel them. They’re hot like molten lava. Her face is on fire, her skin is on fire, and her whole body is burning. It is so, so painful, and yet in a strange, twisted way, the pain is comforting. As are the voices berating her. She’s given up trying to blot them out. The words are cruel but it is the only attention she’s received in months. Sometimes it likes to punish her by not speaking. leaving her in an endless pit of silence where her own thoughts tear at her like ravenous wolves and she is left clawing and begging for them to return.

Weak. A hundred voices scold, all clustered together. Her cavernous mind echoes them. 

“No, I’m not.”

Yes… Weak and pathetic. Just like a mortal.

“You act like you're perfect.”

It is not an act. We are perfect. We are a god. We do not need to change. We are forever. But you are finite. Weak. must be fixed. Must be perfect.

The voracious voices pound into her skull and she grips her head to quiet them.

She remembers the searing of flesh, her eyes popping out of their sockets while a silent scream rips from her throat. The tendrils of magic slither up her arms, spreading like poison through her veins.

A sharp crash ruptures through the room as her hand splinters through the glass. Something warm trickles down her fingers. She’s mesmerized by it. Crimson, the same as the blood pooling around Marcy’s body. Anne’s body is engulfed in a blue flame, it flickers before being snuffed out. Her dangerous blue eyes roll in the back of her head as she crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Her face is white as a sheet. Then Marcy’s broken bleeding body is in her arms, that blasted sword impaled in her chest. 

And when she gazes into their soft, compassionate eyes, all she sees is the devastating look of betrayal.

Her fingers desperately grip the base of the wall, slipping like the sands of time. And then…

Air rushes past her ears and her body sinks. 

Down, down, down.

She never meets the ground.

Sasha’s head snapped up at the hammering on the door. She looked over at the now fractured mirror, catching her reflection. Nothing out of the ordinary. No wicked smiles or red, serpentine eyes, just a tired, sunken face.

Carefully plucking the shards from her knuckles, she rinsed off the blood and splashed her face with water.

She flung open the door, prepared to berate whoever bothered her but was met with emptiness. Her eyes scanned both sides of the hall but there was no soul in sight. Just a lone figurine that resembled a chess piece.  

“Odd,” she muttered, turning it over in her hands.

It was a burly frog with a five-pointed crown (clearly a king piece). Attached to the wooden base was a scroll laced with ribbon and marked with the royal seal. Sasha huffed and read the inscription.

“Imperial General, the king is delivering a royal address. To hear his message, win the game and finish the quest. The archer will show you the way to where his majesty goes to play.”

With a raised brow, Sasha lowered the parchment and scanned the hall, where she pinpointed another figurine further down. This one was a slender frog with a hooded cap, shooting out its tongue like an arrow.

It, too, had a message. “A warrior stands in your midst. Do you shoot it down and brave the risk? At the tailor’s, you may find a piece with another sign.”

Sasha had never seen the city before. The most she had traveled was beyond the palace courtyards. There was no time for lavish quests and great feats of victory. Those were past distractions. 

But this damn game had forced her to walk through merchant shops, visit vendors, and address the townspeople. Each time, she wanted to slam her head into the wall when she asked one of those useless peasants if they had seen a game piece around. What an absolute mockery of her position as general.

Eventually, the riddles became so obnoxious; she disregarded them and conceived to just locate the pieces. This proved to be a struggle at first but after being thrown around on a few dead ends, she found one in the castle’s rafters. With her twin swords as grips, she scaled along the sides of the palace until she saw another figurine. This time a royal frog mounted on a heron with a scepter fisted in her right hand. A threat. 

"The heron queen blocks your path. It is wise not to incur her wrath."

Sasha growled, crumpling the paper in her hand. She crashed through the stained glass window and landed with bruised knees on the shards, only to rear up in confusion. The throne room was empty. All that greeted her was a flipwart board with the pieces arranged in the shape of a smiley face. 

Sasha’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the image. A deep clapping averted her attention and she looked up to see Andrias smiling down at her. 

“Well done, Sasha. Did you enjoy my little puzzle?”

“What the hell was that?” Sasha demanded. “Why didn't you just tell me to meet you in the throne room?”

He pouted like a lost puppy. “Ah, where’s the fun in that? Besides, I thought you enjoyed a good challenge?”

“More like wasting my precious time with this wild goose chase.” She grabbed the nearest chair and folded one leg over the other, leveling him with a glare. “So, what is it you want?”

“So serious. Come on, loosen up a bit. Play a round with me.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t do flipwart.”

Andrias gave a mournful hum. “You’re nothing like my Marmar.”

Her teeth pierced flesh and she tasted iron. “No, I’m not.”

The king frowned briefly, but his fleeting disappointment was quickly replaced with another grin. “Fine, General, if you’re so eager to discuss business, I’ll skip the pleasantries. Give me your latest report.”

Despite the pit in her stomach, Sasha stood to attention. “Sire, my troops are showing great stride and will soon be prepped for the invasion.”

“Then there isn’t a moment to lose. Create the portal.”

Sasha did a double take. “Excuse me?”

“Without the gems intact, I no longer possess the ability. Anne has disappeared with the power of the blue stone, but you still wield the pink one. It is known that those of great strength can harness the powers of all three gems simultaneously.” He bends down to stare into her eyes. “Unless there’s a problem…” 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sasha bowed and approached the music box. “No, sire.”

She lifted the lid multiple times, turned the key, and tapped her fingers over the cover, hoping to find some hidden button. But nothing. The stones were lifeless, no longer bright and pulsing with energy.

The box was just a box, and Sasha was feeling rather foolish.

“Something the matter, general?”

She hated the glee in his voice.

“I can’t do it,” she muttered. “Only Marcy knew how to make it work.”

“I see,” the king spoke very slow and direct, and Sasha felt all her muscles turn to ice. “Well, then you best send for her. We’ve waited long enough as it is, and I wish to proceed with plans.”

Hiding the terror in her voice, Sasha kneeled to the goliath monarch. She fisted her hands by her sides to keep them from shaking. “I would, your majesty, but she’s asleep right now. Her injury’s been aggravated. Human bodies take much longer to heal than amphibians. I imagine she’ll be out of commission for a while.”

Andrias said nothing but instead, picked up a black knight and delicately twirled it in his fingers. “You know what I love about this game?” The disconcern created by the sudden change of subject did not go unnoticed by the general. “Each piece has a designated role, a purpose if you will. The Archers guard the borders, the Mighty Heron strikes down her enemies, and the Wart is content because he has faith that his followers will protect him.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “I know the line-up.”

He ignored her and moved to a vacant square, where he played a dual game, moving both the white and black pieces. “But if one does not abide the crown, they are vulnerable to the enemy.” To demonstrate, he moved the Heron across the enemy's lines, where it was soon captured by the opposing wart. With a subtle nudge of his massive hand, the piece clattered to the floor.

Sasha huffed. “This is a great analogy. But what exactly does it have to do with me?” 

Andrias rested his chin atop his knuckles, sending her a calm, paternal gaze. Fake, of course, like everything about him. His soft bushy brows furrowed, and he spoke with a gentle tone that made Sasha's whole body flinch. “Just an interesting thought,” he mused. He returned his attention to the board, no longer interested in his guest. “You are dismissed, General.”

Sasha gave him a puzzled look and slowly rose, heading for the double doors when Andrias' voice rose up from behind her like a trained gun cocked and aimed at her head. “Before you go, did you know my robots are always watching?”

Sasha coughed to hide the trepidation in her tone. “You don’t say?”

“They tend to pick up some very interesting conversations. One of which I think would be rather suited to you. Would you like to hear it?” Before she even had the chance answer, Andrias was snapping his fingers and summoning a robot frog into the throne room.

“You know as well as I that we owe our lives to that child.”

Sasha’s head flipped up as Olivia’s voice sounded through the speaker. The robot bore a screen inside its stomach showing a far-off scene of two newts gathering outside the city gates. They kept their voices down, acting secretive as they plotted their next moves. Every so often, one of them would glance in the direction of the city to make sure they weren’t being watched or followed. Sasha felt every vein in her body boil like acid.

Betrayal.

When the conversation finished, the pair took off into the night sky on the back of the blue jay. Their bodies became a tiny dot that grew smaller and smaller until they had completely disappeared, marking an end to the recording.

Breathless, Sasha looked up at the king, feeling smaller than she had a moment ago. 

“Now then, I’ll ask again: Where. Is. Marcy?”

“Don’t blame me. I knew all along they were treasonous rats. If you got off your damn ass and had actually thought to pay attention to what goes around here, you would have known all your subjects are nothing but lying scumbags.”

CRACK

Sasha opened her eyes, not having realized they were squeezed shut.

The table they had playing on now lie in two separate pieces, a jagged crack along the edges from where it had been split in two. Andrias shook out his hand, pierced with splinters and specks of green blood. Sasha’s knees rattled in fear and she struggled to keep on her feet.

He turned away from her, replying in a cool, calm voice. “Perhaps our arrangement was a mistake. I wonder if one of your little friends would be better suited for such an important task.”

"No, don’t!" Sasha fell to her knees. "Please, your highness, I’m sorry for disappointing you. Give me one more chance, allow me to prove my loyalty."

Andrias stared at her for a beat and then lowered his head. "Very well General, I’ll give you this one last chance to redeem yourself. One lunar cycle from today the moon in your world will align with the moon in ours." Sasha questioned how he got this information. "During that time, you will find Marcy and activate the music box. When the moon is in its full state, I will carry forth with the invasion. At any cost."

"Yes, my liege.”

"And Sasha, do not fail or we will not be pleased."

Sasha swallowed when his eyes narrowed on hers and she gave a hard nod.

“No, that won’t work either.”

Another crinkled ball was added to the pile at her feet. Marcy slammed her head down on the desk as Grime’s snores echoed through the small tea shop. She kicked out her legs and tapped her pen incessantly against a page littered with rough diagrams and bullet points. 

“I can’t take this,” she whined, grabbing her tired eyelids. 

She wearily glanced at Grime, still out like a light. Now or never. 

She unlatched the window and estimated it was 2.7 meters from the top floor, just under ten feet. Without bedsheets, she would need to decipher another way to get down. Falling from that height would likely result in injury, and her legs still weren’t strong enough to retain such a height. And if they slid out from beneath her on the landing, she could sprain her ankle. She just needed a surefire way across. Perhaps if she--

“You have a habit of climbing out of windows, don’t you?”

Startled, Marcy nearly fell out the window. Staggering to her feet, she spun around, coming eye to eye with a very much awake and grumpy toad. 

“Grime! Were you awake this whole time?”

Captain Grime gave her a passive shrug. “It’s a battle tactic. A soldier must be able to detect the scarcest hint of danger from the slightest sound.”

Immediately feeling foolish, Marcy ducked her head between her shoulders. “Look, I know Felicia said to wait it out, but I can’t sleep until I know Anne’s safe.” 

Grime seemed rather uninterested in her excuses and vaguely gestured toward the exit. “I don’t care. Just keep your voice down; I’m trying to sleep.”

“You aren’t going to stop me?” There was a suspicious edge to the bridge of her tone.

Grime rolled back his shoulders and leaned further into the armchair. “Even if I did, you’d just wait until my back was turned and do it anyway.”

A lead balloon sunk into Marcy’s gut. 

“Don’t draw too much attention out there. If you get captured, I won’t have leverage anymore.”

Marcy released a heavy sigh. It was difficult enough deciphering people’s tones, but Grime made that all the harder. She wasn’t sure if he valued her as a friend or only needed a bartering chip to get Sasha back. Not like it mattered either way.

With a snap of her bow, she shot the line to the spout and used an old handkerchief to slide down the line. 

The differences between Wartood and Newtopia were astounding. 

Here, nights were quiet. There was an absence of soirees, night festivals, and people bustling through the streets. Instead, giant crickets and cicadas tore through the night with a peaceful hum. The streets were barely lit. Only a few lanterns and lights illuminated the area. Marcy grew especially fascinated by the white lilies that lined the fence posts. Ghost fireflies hovered over the pistols, serving as the primary light source and bathing the flowers in blue light. It seemed that wherever she went, the lanterns followed.

Interesting. There shouldn’t have been any annual holidays in the last couple of weeks and the Winter Moon Festival was still a month away. There would be no reason to celebrate this early. Perhaps they held a festival for the sake of it.

The dry, humid air had coated the town in a veil of mist, with only the twinkling fireflies breaking through. It was almost dreamlike.

She moved stealthily through town, careful not to make a noise. The night guard had taught her about remaining inconspicuous during missions, 

Rule #1: Move quietly and swiftly, using the environment to hide from danger. 

Marcy clung to the side of a house and made her way through the town.

Rule #2: Keep your head down and ears open. It’s tempting to want to look up for any predatory birds or bats, but that will notify others of your presence. Instead, watch where you step. Make sure not to accidentally trip and listen for the sound of flapping or bird cries. This will alert you of any danger.

Marcy must not have paid much attention to the second rule because she did step on a branch. The snap was so sharp, she was sure someone must have heard, but the town remained still. 

“Phew, close one.”

“I heard that.”

Marcy screamed and stumbled to the ground, grumbling under her breath. Third time today.

A violet hand reached out to her and Marcy glanced up to see the small frog crouched in front of her, wearing that knowing look. “Heh, that obvious huh?”

“I saw you sneaking through town from my bedroom window.”

Marcy chuckled awkwardly. “Would you believe me if I said I was out for an evening stroll?”

Maddie saddled her hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

Marcy’s shoulders fell before a sheepish rin crawled up her lips. “In that case, mind showing me which way to the Plantar's cottage.”

Maddie looked down the dirt path where the wind had tousled a leaf across and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

They turned the corner and passed by a row of lampposts, crossing the bridge and heading to the outskirts where the area was more rural. As they walked, Marcy noticed how the blue lilies weren’t following them. They were leading. Leading them to the Plantar house. 

“Did you guys have a festival or something?” 

Maddie’s body tensed, but she kept her gaze pointed forward.

“It’s just these lanterns. They’re all over town and I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking it. But on Earth, they’re normally used for celebrations. Well, either that or a memorial…”

Her voice trailed off, and she noticed Maddie’s shoulders tense.

“Maddie?” Marcy tilted her head, swallowing the fear swirling in her stomach. Maddie suddenly looked down. “You were gone for so long.”

It was as if a pool of ice fell over Marcy. Maddie kept talking, but the human couldn’t hear her over her racing heartbeat. “You thought we died…?” 

She clenched a hand over her shirt, over her heart, over the scar where hot magma and metal pierced flesh.

“We had nothing to go on,” Maddie explained. “The King made a decree about human traitors trying to pilfer Amphibia’s greatest power. Every night we’d each light a lantern as a symbol of hope - praying you’d return. But after several weeks, some started to think the worst.”

Marcy swallowed thickly. “Did you believe him?”

The frog answered without hesitation. “Nah, I knew that whatever twisted plan King Andrias whipped up had nothing to do with you.”

Marcy sucked on her lower lip.

“Nothing at all.”

Sasha exited the throne room, her teeth grinding against each other. He doesn't trust her. He doesn’t trust her? After months of constructing an army, drawing up hours of plans, and keeping Marcy on a tight leash, he still doesn't trust her. How dare he have the gall to underestimate her like that? She should've kept that nerd on constant supervision. She should have locked up her dumb bird in the stables. Marcy was playing a dangerous game. Her blind heroism was going to doom them all. Not if she had anything to say about it.

A sharp, screechy laugh like that of a heron’s cry echoed beside her. Sasha’s head snapped to the side coming face to face with a familiar soul. It was a small Asian girl, stuffed in her overgrown hoodie, idly humming to herself while rocking on the balls of her feet. Her bangs slipped over her right eye. She giggled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as if it were a secret. 

“Poor, poor pathetic Sashy, always the loser,” she sang. 

Sasha clenched her fist.

“This is all your fault. You and your stupid games.”

Marcy looked off into the distance, not even focusing on the blonde beside her.

"No one wants to stay. They’ve all gone away."

"That's not true!" Sasha barked, yet something deep in her gut said Marcy was right. “It’s not me, it’s those servants. They’ll be sorry for double-crossing me.”

Another giggle. "Silly lil’ Sasha, your friends are no more.”

She snarled, the skin of her lip tucked behind her front teeth.“I don't need them. I’ll get her back by myself, force her to show me.”

“Marcy” laughed, disbelieving.

"I will, you'll see!"

Sasha failed to notice the red slit in her yellow eyes.

“No Blare, humans are inferior. We should demonstrate our dominance and force them into submission.”

“Violence is never the answer.”.

“We’re talking about war here. Violence is always the answer.”

“Hey!”

Sasha burst through the doors as the newts yelped in their seats. “You Brainy.”

“Actually, it’s Branson,” a blue salamander tried to say, but was quickly silenced by his brothers.

“Is it true that all members of the toad rebellion have been captured?”

“And accounted for, General.” The purple-spotted one answered, jumping to attention.

“All except Captain Grime.”

Everybody’s head turned to the side where the copper one had spoken. The tension in the room was high, breaths caught in fear. 

“His whereabouts are still unknown.”

Sasha marched over, coming within an inch from his nose, and sent him an icy stare. “And you’ll keep it that way. The king has granted him a full pardon.”

He gulped bringing a shaky hand to his head. “Yes general.”

“Now,” Sasha continued. “I am looking for a very specific couple. They are essential to the king’s plan for domination."

“If they are so valuable, is it safe to release them?”

“They’re not fighters. They are weak links, the only use they serve is to me. Now, go find them.”

The lanterns served as beacons guiding the duo toward the 2nd-century cottage. 

The surrounding shrubs were wilted. The wood was cracking in areas. But the garden was lively. And it seemed maybe they weren’t the first visitors to come here since the Plantar’s departure.

Maddie’s webbed hand rested lightly on the doorknob.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

Marcy wanted to decline, but she straightened her spine and gave a curt nod. “She’s counting on me.”

With a nod, Maddie pushed open the thick oak door and they crossed the threshold of the house.

Marcy’s breath caught in her throat. 

The Plantar house looked unlived in and yet clean and furnished. The dust had gathered on the tops of the sofa chairs and windowsill, but everything was tidy - just as they left it.

Atop the mantle was a shrine covered in daffodils and lotus flowers. A picture of the family embracing each other dawned the center. On either side of it, were photos of Sasha and Marcy hidden in darkness. It almost seemed a cruel irony, the three girls in the pictures were separated just as they were in reality.

Marcy’s eyes fell upon the wooden hatch to the basement. “Has anyone gone down there yet?”

Maddie followed her gaze and gave a slight shake of her head. “No, we felt it was too personal.

“I want to see it.”

Maddie nodded and lifted the entrance.

Releasing a breath, Marcy slowly descended the stairs, a miracle she managed not to trip this time. This was probably because she was more focused on each step rather than what lay at the bottom, almost as if she were afraid. A pit rose in her stomach that expanded with every step, but she continued onward until her feet hit solid ground. The room was cast in shadows so she swiped her arms out in front of her so as to not accidentally bump into anything.

“See if you can find a light source,” she instructed Maddie, who dashed off in another direction. Marcy then continued moving around the room, feeling the walls for a switch, when her feet were abruptly pulled out from under her. 

A light flicked on and Maddie called to her from across the room. “What happened?”

Marcy rubbed her bruised knees. “I tripped on something.”

It was at this time that Marcy saw the full extent of the object that caused her to stumble: A spiral notebook, covered in glitter and stickers. The item was unmistakable and her heart sank in turn. Anne’s journal.

The journal was thin and light. It was wide-ruled with thick margins. Random doodles and colored drawings filled the pages. If anything it was more of a sketchbook than a journal, and certainly not a scientific one at that. The entries were brief, filled with emoticons, and had a serious overhaul on punctuation marks.

She flipped to the last dated entry: February 18: The day it all went wrong.

Today’s the Day!!

Holy cow, this is it! All three stones are charged and in just a few hours, we'll be kicking off for Newtopia. Once we give King Andrias the music box, he'll activate the portal and finally send us home. Wow, it feels so surreal; I'm actually crying. We're going home! We're going home! WE'RE GOING HOME!

Anyway, you know how in a classic hero's journey, the protagonist has to make some big death-defying sacrifice before they can return home? 

Well, fuck that! Because everything is working great! The three of us have never been better. Sash and I are closer than ever, Marmar is having a blast, and the Plantars are the best family I could ask for. All those months of waiting and searching have finally paid off (knock on wood). I think Amphibia is one of those rare places that alters your perspective on things. Like how I used to hate dung beetles and now I have to have at least one in my stew, but with people too.

The Plantars really opened my eyes into what true friendship entails. It doesn't take a genious to see how our friendship before wasn't healthy. I think at some point I knew that already, but I didn't want to admit it because it would risk the chance of us splitting up. Nothing terrifies me more than losing my favorite girls. But now, that's all over. We've changed. Sasha's changed. I'VE CHANGED! It's like we're completely different people from when we first stepped foot in here. (or I guess it was more a whole body thrust situation than actually stepping foot.) I'm getting sidetracked. Point is:

NOTHING will tear us apart ever again!

“Hey, you okay?”

Marcy quickly swiped the tears from her eyes before Maddie could see them. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” she insisted, even though the twerk in her upper lips pained her.

Maddie didn’t press for answers and thank god because Marcy didn’t have the strength to deny it. When the blur turned away, Marcy abandoned the page she was on and went back a few pages to a section dedicated to the temples. Jo was overflowing with entries on this, but Anne had only written a few sentences on each. 
The largest entry was the second temple - not surprising since it was Anne’s gem. But despite having been there for most of the events, Anne had boatloads of information Marcy was completely unaware of, especially when it came to a certain source: Valeriana.

Anne described her as mysterious and psychic. A soothsayer. Apparently, she had been watching Anne this entire time. She knew everything about Earth, about the box, including the three of them shoplifting it. About Amphibia and all the little adventures that Anne told Marcy about. 

It made Marcy nervous. If Valeriana knew this much about Anne, what did she know about Marcy?

“I think I found something,” she said.

Maddie popped up from the pile of rubbish. She peeked over Marcy’s shoulder at the illustrated page.

“We saw this weird lady at the second temple. From Anne’s reaction, she must’ve met her before.”

“That’s Valeriana,” Maddie chimed in.

Marcy turned to look over her shoulder. “Wait, you know her?”

“She’s my idol. Every spell I’ve ever cast has been written by her. Legend has it that she’s the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.”

“So where do we find her?”

“That’s the thing. Valeriana travels like the wind. She is rarely in the same place twice and is incredibly hard to summon.”

Marcy looked back at the journal as a wide smirk braced her lips. “I may have an idea. Anne mentioned meeting her at the Bizarre Bazaar.” While she said this, Marcy flipped to an earlier passage in the book which also showed the newt. “Yeah, see? Here she is.”

It sure has been a weird ass day. I was hoping to find some info on this crazy music box, but all I’ve hit are dead ends. Against HopPop’s judgment, Sprig and I snuck into the Bizarre Bazaar. It’s kinda like those night markets Grandma takes me to in Bangkok, except way creepier. There were a lot of sleazebags there. But I found a stand that had all these old collectables. They had three stone markings just like the music box. I wonder if they were all made by the same person...

The vendor was at lunch (of course she was!) so I promised Sprig we could explore the marketplace. The games were rigged and the food was ugh! I’ll never get used to the taste of bugs. Then I met her. I think she said her name was Valeriana. Cool, kinda sounds like the forest nymph in that War of the Warlocks movie Marcy always raves about. 

Anne remembered the movie?

“Marcy?” The ranger looked up to see Maddie fixed on her with a concerned look. It took a second, but she soon registered the warm liquid trickling down her cheek. Unabashed, she brushed it away with a weak smile.

“This is perfect. All we have to do is get into the Bizarre Bazaar.” Marcy’s smile dropped as she read another excerpt. “Oh no, it says here the place is exclusive. The only way in is with an entry key.”

"Well, that's a bust. Only wealthy figureheads have those."

“I believe I can offer some assistance."

Both kids jolted in their seats from the shrill voice that randomly rang from atop the stairwell. Peeking through the cellar door was a small green frog with evenly combed hair and an 18th-century waistcoat.

Maddie sent the frog a weighted glare. “Were you eavesdropping?”

He flinched. "I didn't intend to. I uh... well, uh it's kinda embarrassing." Color flushed to his cheeks as he pawed the back of his neck. "I always come here during the night just in case, so if the Plantars ever came back, I'd..."

Maddie placed a palm against his back and more guilt crawled up Marcy's stomach.

“So how can you help us, Toadie?”

“Every year, the mayor is gifted with an exclusive entry egg for the Bazaar. He goes there to promote his campaigns and I always accompany him. He keeps it locked in a safe in his study."

"Sounds like you're asking us to break in," Marcy commented.

Toadie didn't refute.

"Aren't you and the Mayor an item? Do you really wanna do this?" asked Maddie.

Toadie gave a deep sigh. "Look, I love Toadstool with all my heart; I’d do anything for him. But I care about Anne and Sasha just as much, and I want them to be safe. So if this is how we’ll rescue them, then I won't hesitate."

"Alright, gang, we have our mission. Operation retrieve the entry key and gain access to the Bizarre Bazaar, engage!"

Anne found returning home to be a more difficult endeavor than she initially anticipated. Explaining the events had taken some effort even with the exclusion of certain details she conveniently left out.

She explained how they stumbled across the music box in the thrift store. Not that they stole it.

How Marcy was curious if anything was inside. Not that she read about it beforehand.

How Sasha and Anne had a minor disagreement. Not that they dueled with swords atop a crumbling tower.

Sasha didn’t lead a mutiny.

Marcy didn’t barter their lives

And Anne didn’t lose both of them.

She told herself it was for their benefit. That those details would just induce her parents' worries and they had already suffered enough. Deep down inside, there was another reason.

Nevertheless, she was reunited with her parents, a wish she had been making every starry night since her first in Amphibia. They kept a tight leash on her for the most part, afraid their daughter would disappear into oblivion with no chance of ever coming back. But eventually, their grip on her lessened, and she was free to escape the confines of her sheltered house. The Plantars who were basically aliens, also adapted fairly well to Earthly life and, with a few close calls, managed to blend in amongst the crowd. 

Once she stepped outside, however, the weight of everything that transpired in the last three days came crashing down on her like a brick building. The streets were paved with footprints left behind from pointed heels and hand-me-down loafers. The lockers and desks had Sasha's name etched into them like she had claimed the items for herself, and each hidden sticky note reminded her of Marcy.

On these days, Anne found it simpler to stay hauled up in her room. She lay on the mattress, kicking her legs back and forth, studying the cracks and water stains in the ceiling. Sprig’s heavy snores filled the attic along with HopPop talking in his sleep and the dull thumping of Polly kicking her new legs against the dresser. 

Her head felt heavy, and she was too tired to lift it as her brain replayed the same scenario over and over, just as it had done for weeks. Domino crept over, rumbling like a tiny motorboat. The vibrations sent a comforting wave through her numb veins. With the cat planted firmly on her chest, she reached behind Domino’s ears, trailing down the back of her neck and upper chin. With her phone on the other side of the bed and not wanting to disturb the peaceful kitty asleep on her chest, Anne snatched the strap of her backpack, which was arm’s length, for her GameBoy. She fished through the two front pockets, pulling out mementos from her journey. Her mind had been too absorbed to unpack her belongings, and this was the first time she had even opened her bag since the infamous flight to Newtopia.

She pulled out gum wrappers, spare hair ties, and a moldy beetle bagel she saved for her mom. Then her fingers brushed across a cold, flat surface.

Anne drew in a sharp gasp and freed the item from its sleeve. She was amazed she still had it. It was always her intent to give it right back after the flight, but of course, her ADHD-riddled brain got distracted. She ran her fingers over the faux-leather cover. Marcy’s journal.

Marcy brought the thing with her everywhere, always jotting down notes and doodling in the corners. She had even inspired Anne to start keeping one of her own. Now that book was stuck back in Amphibia while Marcy’s was here on Earth. It was comforting to have one last piece of her friend she could clutch onto.

Multi-colored tabs and sticky notes bookmarked each section. Anne flipped through the pages, finding little headers exploring a different topic of plant, chemical equation, lore, etc. She passed by diagrams and cryptograms, and fun drawings that made her giggle. Marcy’s entire mind was alive in the pages.

Hey Jo, it’s me again.

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts since I came here. Don’t get me wrong, it's been a dream come true, but something feels amiss. I should probably tell them what I know. Andrias says they won’t understand, but they have to, right? I mean, they’re my best friends. I’m sure they love this place as much as I do. What on earth would compel them to want to leave?

Anne gripped the corners of the page, crinkling it. She tugged, pulling in opposite directions, but stopped. The book was a lie, a record of guilt, and a blueprint of deception, but she couldn’t find it in her to destroy it. It was all she had left of Marcy. She skimmed through the pages, going faster and faster as each entry tore at her heart, not even bothering to read the details anymore. Her hands shook and her teeth felt as if they might break.

Andrias is a lifesaver! 

He’s thought of a solution that allows all of us to stay together. Turns out the music box is a gateway to other worlds. Entire galaxies of planets waiting to be discovered. And Andrias wants our help. He says we can join his expeditions and study the science of each world for research. It’s foolproof! I know Anne was all excited about going home, but she’ll love this. 

Just a little more time together.

Anne couldn’t help it but she felt used. Was that all she was to people? Just a means to an end? A lapdog for Sasha, an idiot for Marcy, and a pawn for Andrias?

“LIAR!”

She hurled the book across the room into the adjacent wall, startling Domino enough to jump from her lap and dive under the bed. She gave her an apologetic look, slugging over to pick up the book when something fell out. A photo, the same one Anne had yet minus the wrinkles or tears. Marcy must have been keeping it safely tucked inside the cover to preserve it from being damaged.

Her throat closed up as thick globulous tears poured from her eyes. Hunched over, she silently cried herself to sleep. Sprig found her the next morning curled up by the door, with the polaroid still clutched in her fingers.