"I'm curious."
Cruor said, walking past Phoebe and settling her slim frame on the bed.
Her crimson eyes glittered with an eerie curiosity as she asked. "Just how did you find me?"
She tilted her head with an amused smile. "I hid myself very well, even from the Incarni."
"I even moved to Ragnarok to escape Arthur's detection."
Cruor let out a dramatic sigh. "But that was quite useless. He already knows."
Her smile widened with equal parts admiration and exasperation.
"He's just too good."
"So how did you find me?" She asked again, playfully placing a hand on her chin.
A subtle flicker of Uriel's gaze towards Phoebe gave her the answer.
"Of course."
Cruor smiled, a tender gaze drifting to Phoebe.
"You are different from the rest of us, dear sister," she purred, leaning close to Phoebe, her crimson eyes studying that crystalline, empty gaze.
"The rest of the Incarni are successors, legacies of the first generation," her gaze narrowed as her smile widened. "And I, of course, am an outsider taken in and given the authority of a god."
"But you, Phoebe…." She paused, her gaze admiring her older sister. "You are a true child of Mother. The firstborn."
"You are far more perceptive than the rest of us," she noted with a smile. "I'm not surprised you found me the moment you stepped into this world."
"And yet, I did," Phoebe answered simply.
"It was a familiar presence, but I couldn't figure out the identity," she added, tilting her head. "That's why I came here with Uriel."
"And what do you think?" Cruor asked, curiosity dripping from her eerie, seductive voice. "Are you disappointed that it was me?"
"Not at all," Phoebe replied with an eerie calmness that unsettled even the Haema Incarnus.
"In fact, I was thinking of searching for you, Cruor."
Uriel frowned.
"Phoebe, you wanted to see Cruor? You didn't tell me."
Cruor's giggle filled the brief silence that followed. "That's because it doesn't concern our dear sister, Uriel."
Her crimson eyes twinkled as she held the gaze of the malakh.
"It concerns her master, Mordred Pendragon."
A proud smile slowly spread across her pale face.
"You know how delighted I was when I realized that one of my children had become the master of our divine sister?"
Uriel's gaze sharpened. "Mordred is not your child."
"Every Haema user is my child," Cruor answered immediately.
Her smile deepened. "Most of them simply never knew me."
Uriel simply stared at her, noticing the lack of a trace of humor in Cruor's face.
"But you never responded when they reached out to you," Uriel shot back.
"I witnessed many who called out to you in desperation, for your aid, and you never even glanced their way."
"They were never interesting," Cruor replied dismissively, much to Uriel's frustration.
Her fiery orange eyes narrowed. "Not interesting?"
Cruor met those fiery eyes with a certain calm smile that unsettled Uriel.
"Yes. None of them was interesting."
"That was… until this age."
A tint of pleasure colored her pale cheeks.
"First, it was Vanis Hectus." Her smile widened, revealing short, pointed canines that hinted at her vampiric origin.
Like a ghost drifting through water, Cruor circled Uriel, playfully twirling like a dreamy dancer to music only she could hear.
"She was the first one in millennia to withstand my Madness, if only for a brief moment."
Uriel's fiery gaze softened, replaced by cold judgment.
"I've heard about it," she muttered.
"A paladin, twisted by your Madness, slaughtered her people and immolated a Saint, her dearest friend."
"And you left her with nightmares and mad whispers that haunt her to this day."
Cruor stopped, her back facing Uriel.
"There is a price to using my Madness, Uriel," she said softly.
She glanced back, her crimson eyes flickering with something darker.
For the briefest moment, the shadows beneath the bed stretched toward her feet before quietly returning to where they belonged.
The air flickered along with the lights, the temperature fluctuated with no pattern, and faint whispers filled the room, each incoherent word twisting the fabric of reality.
"And besides…", blood slowly dripped from the crimson ends of her hair, disappearing into the floor before a single drop could stain it.
"Vanis was only my second favorite."
Suddenly, everything stilled.
The whispers faded, and the lights stopped flickering.
Cruor's expression softened.
The flames of insanity flickered to embers deep inside those crimson eyes.
"Mordred is my favorite child," she declared in a soft voice. "A child of Arthur Pendragon born with my strand."
"I was intrigued, even when he was regarded as the Failed Prince."
"How could someone so utterly powerless remain alive this long?" she grinned. "I simply couldn't stop watching."
"And then he turned thirteen."
"He became so cute and unhinged, while becoming stronger with each battle he fought."
Cruor sounded more and more like a proud parent the more she spoke.
"He was so creative with his strand and his gifts."
"When he invoked my Madness, I gave it to him without any price." "
"That's because nightmares and whispers already plagued him."
Tenderly touching her face with a look of utter pleasure, she sighed.
"He was the perfect vessel for my Madness."
Uriel remained silent.
Something about hearing Mordred described as a vessel made her stomach tighten.
"And that led to his fall into the Tear," she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.
"And led him to me," Phoebe added plainly.
"And he became your master," Cruor gave a playful wink. "Wouldn't that make me your overlord, since Mordred is one of my children?"
"That is an interesting dream of yours," Uriel scoffed. "Quite the wishful thinking."
Cruor ignored her.
Instead, she rested her gaze on Phoebe. "So. You wish to repay Mordred for freeing you?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "Although I'm fairly sure becoming his familiar is more than enough."
Phoebe simply stared back at her. "This is my wish, and you will help me, Cruor."
The Haema Incarnus narrowed her eyes.
Then she smiled. "Yes, I will. I have a debt to pay after all."
There was no jesting in her words, only certainty.
Understanding passed over Uriel as she looked between the two goddesses.
"You spared her life back then, when she invaded your realm," she murmured.
Her gaze fell on Phoebe. "Cruor owes her life to you."
"And I believe it's finally time I pay that debt," Cruor glanced at Phoebe with a knowing grin.
"But are you sure about this, Phoebe? A chance to ask anything of me…"
"And you want to spend it on a human?"
Phoebe didn't say anything, and her silence itself became the answer.
"Phoebe…" Concern lingered within Uriel's voice. "Is this truly what you want?"
The Incarnus of Lux lowered her gaze for a moment before meeting hers.
Among the deep emptiness in that crystalline gaze, Uriel spotted a firm resolution.
She realized that her teacher had already made up her mind.
Phoebe turned to Cruor. "I want you to help me to restore the locked memories of Iris Lefay."
"Mordred's lover," the Haema Incarnus chuckled.
"What befell those two was quite a tragedy."
She tilted her head.
"Let me guess. Her memories were locked away by her stigma. That would make it quite difficult… even for Phoebe of the Restoration."
"A key is needed for me to restore her memories," Phoebe continued. "A key forged from the chaotic power of Stigmata."
Cruor's smile disappeared.
Not dramatically.
It was simply… gone.
The room became strangely quiet. Even the whispers failed to return.
For the first time since entering the room...
Madness itself seemed to listen.
"That…" Horror passed like a shadow across Uriel's face as realization struck her.
"Phoebe… Incarni cannot enter that domain. We are forbidden."
"You are," Cruor interjected, a smirk forming on her face. "I'll be okay wandering that chaotic void."
"Auntie has always had a soft spot for me."
Uriel instinctively looked away.
Even hearing that entity referred to so casually made her uncomfortable.
"I hate admitting this," she sighed. "But you are the only one who can do this."
"The question is," Phoebe said, her gaze never leaving the Haema Incarnus. "Will you do it?"
Cruor held her gaze for so long that Uriel wondered what her answer would be.
Then, her lips curled into a smile.
"Even if I am welcome, it would still be perilous. No one knows what horrors lie dormant in that vast sea of chaos."
Her crimson eyes glimmered.
Not with fear, but with unmistakable curiosity.
"How fascinating."
She sighed dramatically. "Killing myself would've been much easier."
Her eyes glinted. "But I am a curious creature, and I repay my debts."
Standing straight up, she stretched like a cat.
Her simple dress shimmered before dissolving into drifting wisps of smoke, exposing her pale body to the world.
But only for a moment.
Before the smoke had fully dispersed, it darkened and quietly rewove itself into black jeans that flared at the ends, a loosely buttoned blue flannel shirt, and a black leather jacket.
Her dark blue hair spilled over her shoulders, fading to crimson at the ends as if dipped in blood.
"The big question is," Cruor said as she tied her hair into a ponytail.
"Is this what Mordred wants?"
Nudging at the sleeves of her jacket, her eyes rested on the Lux Incarnus. "Restoring Iris Lefay's memories also means restoring the horrors and the trauma she endured."
Her gaze narrowed. "From what I know, Mordred wanted her to be free of her past, even if it meant losing his place in her memories."
"He is unsure, even now," Phoebe replied simply. "I will only restore Iris's memories if he wants it."
She paused.
"But should he choose that path... I must already possess the key."
Cruor stared at her and then laughed. "A just-in-case scenario?"
"Well," she said between soft chuckles. "I certainly wouldn't call this a waste of my favor."
"I get to repay my debts, and I get to have an interesting journey."
Moving towards the door, she glanced back. "Wish me luck, sister. I'll have your key by the next banquet."
Phoebe's eyebrows lifted slightly. She looked toward Uriel.
"The Incarni still conduct that activity?"
The Ignis Incarnus nodded. "It is an ancient tradition. You were the one who started it."
Phoebe quietly lowered her gaze.
"Never thought it would remain to this day," she mumbled before turning to the Haema Incarnus.
"Be careful."
Cruor paused and slowly turned around.
She smirked. "Oh? I thought you lost all of your emotions."
Her scarlet gaze twinkled with familiar mischief.
"Looks like you are slowly getting them back."
Turning to Uriel, she raised an eyebrow.
"No farewell kiss, love? I may not come back."
Uriel, being the taller of the two, simply stared down at her.
"Nope."
"Shame," Cruor visibly slumped,
Neither goddess could tell whether she was joking or genuinely disappointed.
She shrugged and walked toward the door.
Looking back, she added. "Oh, and please watch over our dark brother."
Uriel frowned. "The Incarnus of Tenebris?"
Cruor nodded. "He's on a rather suicidal path."
"How so?" Phoebe asked, tilting her head as she rose from the bed.
"About two years ago, he visited me." Cruor's smile strangely turned distant. "He wanted me to kill him."
Silence.
"What?" Uriel blinked.
"I refused," Cruor sighed.
"It took considerable self-control not to turn his head into a wall decoration."
Then, for perhaps the first time since entering her room, Cruor's face turned serious.
"I asked him the reason for his unusual request. These were the words he said."
"A worthy candidate to inherit the Origin of Tenbris has arrived."
Silence descended over the room as if those words were the hammer of a judge in court.
Neither goddess immediately answered.
After a few moments, Uriel spoke.
"That is a bold claim. Has he forgotten the conditions required to inherit the Origin?"
She was only met with stares from the other two goddesses.
"You do realize", Cruor asked blankly, "that you are a prime example of what he said?"
Uriel's cheeks flushed golden.
"A very rare exception, Cruor."
Folding her arms, she asked. "Has there been anyone like me since?"
"Well…"
"No. But nothing is absolute."
Cruor smiled. "Perhaps there is someone like you out there?"
"Perhaps," Urile nodded.
"I'll keep an eye on him, though."
Phoebe cast a distant gaze at the sky.
"Tenebris…"
A whisper so quiet it eluded the hearing of the Incarni present with her.
She then looked at Cruor and asked. "Are you going to dispel the illusion over this place?"
Cruor stared at her.
An innocent smile spread across her face.
So pure.
So genuine.
It sent a chill through Phoebe.
It was the first time she felt like this since her freedom.
Uriel felt her skin crawl. Every instinct screamed at her to be on guard.
She should never forget that the quirky young woman before her is the twisted and deadly existence that slaughtered countless lives, be they mortal or divine.
Michael's words came back to her.
"Be glad she is on our side."
"Illusion?" Cruor tilted her head.
She slowly looked around the room.
Then back toward Phoebe.
"What illusion?"
With that innocent question…
The Haema Incarnus faded into thin air.
And with her, the illusion unraveled.
It revealed the truth that Uriel and Phoebe saw the moment they stepped into the hospital.
The metallic scent of blood permeated their sense of smell.
The smell of fresh blood.
Then came the horrifying silence.
The many residents of the psychiatric hospital lay scattered across the corridor, which had been given a new splash of color.
Their necks were split open.
Their bodies torn by human hands.
Their blood flooded the once-pristine floor, carrying overturned medicine trays, abandoned patient files, and shattered spectacles through crimson currents before staining the walls in violent streaks.
Limbs and pieces of flesh lay like islands surrounded by a sea of blood, their owners lying pristine in death.
Bodies contorted and twisted into impossible shapes, with silent screams frozen on their faces.
A bloody and damaged wheelchair stood only a few meters from the exit.
Its owner had almost escaped.
Nothing had been disturbed.
Nothing had been moved.
Every corpse.
Every trail of blood.
Every severed limb.
Everything had been left exactly where Cruor wanted it.
It wasn't a massacre.
It was a nightmarish exhibition.
And Uriel found herself in the middle of this nightmare, her hand hovering over the doorknob of the opposite room.
She gritted her teeth and paused.
She already knows what's beyond those doors.
Horrifying death and blood.
The malakh sighed. Cruor's sadistic depravity will always haunt her.
"She kept the bodies clean from rot." Phoebe quietly stepped beside her.
Her empty eyes fell on a patient whose corpse barely resembled a human's.
"To keep them fresh for the reveal."
A scream tore through the hospital.
It was Dr. Sigmund.
A raw, disbelieving scream of utter horror, followed by frantic footsteps.
His voice echoed through halls lined with Cruor's cruel amusement as each carefully preserved victim revealed themselves to the only man who had never truly seen them.
The forms of the two Incarni slowly began to fade as the screams gradually turned hoarse.
"She's mellowed a bit, Uriel."
Phoebe's voice remained quiet and emotionless.
Uriel looked upon the 'masterpiece' created by Cruor of the Madness.
She sighed.
"Yes, she has."