Hello!

As a celebration of five years on Wattpad as of May 13, 2023, I decided to do a celebratory short story. There were many options, of course another one being some fun, prank-filled story with Charlie and Ashley from Pockets of Gold and Silver, or another look into Phoenix from The King's Remorse. And both of those would be fun and I'm sure I will be doing another story for all three of those characters sooner or later, as well as some others :)

But... I decided to do something a little different for this five year celebration. I decided to write from the POV of a more minor character in The King's Remorse story. He never had his own POV, but he played a very important role in the story and was a part of a very important event that took place before the start of the story of The King's Remorse.

That is... Arcane, the Midnight Wolf.

Note: this story does not introduce characters in the way they would be introduced in The King's Remorse and assumes knowledge of the story, although there is a bit of backstory since Arcane does not get the same introduction as main characters do. There is also a third character who is new to the world of The King's Remorse, so they'll be somewhat introduced but will get a more 'official' introduction in the edited The King's Remorse, which is still being worked out as of the time of the publication of this short story

Another note: The art is mine :) I drew my characters

Spoiler warnings: this story has spoilers. It covers the exact details of an event described later on in The King's Remorse. If you have not read The King's Remorse, there will definitely be some pretty big spoilers for that event. The spoilers are only for the exact event with Arcane, although there is some light discussion of dynamics explored in much more detail in The King's Remorse

TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains a death that occurred as an accidental murder. It truly was accidental. There's also the guilt/self-loathing/horror that comes from that accidental death.

And so, welcome to the one mistake Arcane made that arguably set the stage for the entire series of events that take place in The King's Remorse, roughly sixty-five years before the 'official' start of The King's Remorse. I present to you: The Touch of Aquarius :)

Edit as of November, 2023: this story is still accurate to Arcane and Freedom's backstory, but there are some inconsistencies that are mainly neither Arcane nor Freedom mentioning events that happen in the edited The King's Remorse that pertain to Freedom in particular. So the big events are accurate, but some of the details and what characters say/mention aren't 100% accurate

xxxx

Arcane never meant any harm.

He never wanted any of it to happen.

He didn't mean to, he didn't want to, and he wants to take it back.

He is among the most powerful beings on Ragdon, and yet he cannot have what he wants the most.

He is among the most powerful beings on Ragdon, so he should have been able to keep this from happening. He should be able to take it back. He should be able to undo it all and make things right. And yet he cannot.

He can't take any of it back.

It should be him, but it isn't.

As the current Midnight Wolf on Ragdon, everyone knows who Arcane was.

Every Midnight Wolf has at least one of the Zodiac constellations, and Arcane has three, giving him more power than most. Sagittarius gives him great power with weapons and the ability to manipulate them, even though he has never touched any and has paws rather than hands. Capricorn lets him animate the other constellations on his fur. And Aquarius allows him to heal, both himself and others.

Arcane spends his days doing just that— he can heal anyone from anything, so long as their heart still beats. He heals anything, from someone with a scratch or a splinter to someone on death's door with Lucius —Death— hanging over them, reaching out to claim their soul.

xxxx

"Hello."

Arcane turns around and sees Freedom approaching.

With an elephant's head and forelegs, a lion's mane, rainbow feathered wings, taloned hind legs, and a furry dragon's tail, Freedom has always struck Arcane as an odd creature, not that he'd ever say that to her.

Faint tendrils of black follow in Freedom's footsteps, little bits of her power. She can manipulate emotions, although Arcane knows she has not touched him. As the Midnight Wolf, he knows when another uses magic on him, and his power is greater than hers— she would not be able to affect him in the way she could others.

"How is it going?" Freedom asks, tail swishing on the ground. Her black eyes swirl with a storm of emotions.

"It's going well," Arcane replies. He flicks an ear when a fly draws too close. "And yourself?"

"I require your help."

Arcane ducks his head. "And what is it you need assistance with?"

"I injured myself."

"How so? Please, allow me to look."

Freedom nods and gestures with her trunk to her shoulder. Arcane steps to the side to get a closer look.

A large wound splits her shoulder in two, revealing muscle and torn flesh embedded with dirt. It's not fatal but Arcane can tell it must hurt. It would heal on its own, but slowly and with a substantial risk of lasting damage and effects.

"What's it like?" Freedom asks as Arcane reaches out with his power to gain a better understanding of the intricacies of the wound.

"What's what like?" Arcane absently replies, letting the power of Aquarius feel through the wound. The ripped flesh, the split nerves, the foreign objects hiding beneath skin and within tissues.

"The Midnight Tear," Freedom explains. "Not being able to blink unless you want to harness its power."

Arcane tilts his head to the side and pauses. Time is not immediately of the essence. He hasn't ever received that question. He's answered many about the Midnight Tear and how it works— how he'd reset time and remove all that he perceives as evil. But none about what it's like losing the ability to blink.

"It was hard at first," Arcane murmurs, returning to his work, "but eventually I grew used to it. It's been ten years now. You adapt, and the inherent Midnight Wolf power helps. I don't really need to sleep or eat, and I'm immortal. I can only die when I shed the Midnight Tear, which is my own choice. Eventually it becomes normal. I stopped noticing the pain and the itch long ago. It's normal for me not to blink. Now I wonder what it's like to blink."

Freedom hums, expression thoughtful. "I see. That makes sense."

Arcane nods. "Please be still. I will heal you now. Are you ready?"

"Yes. I appreciate you taking the time."

Arcane brushes the words off like he's done a thousand times. It's his duty, he figures. He has the power to heal, so he should help.

Freedom stands steady, wings neatly tucked against her sides and black eyes staring evenly at Arcane.

He focuses on her shoulder, how the flesh sits at the wrong angles, torn and ripped and jagged. How muscle peeks through. The break in the thick, grey skin of her forelegs. How he wants to make it whole again.

Arcane steps closer, settling his paws on the ground, pricks his ears, and reaches out with the power of Aquarius, this time to heal, not to understand. He can feel the energy in Freedom's body, and he focuses his abilities on her broken skin.

Bit by bit, he adds a little more of his own power and feeds it into her body. He watches as her flesh begins to knit itself back together again under the power of Aquarius.

"Is it working?" Freedom asks.

Arcane hums an affirmative. "Yes, it is working."

But as he holds the delicate balance in how much power he continues to add to Freedom's body and her wound, something slips and Arcane first feels the balance tip.

And then he sees it.

The flesh on Freedom's shoulder warps, twists, and bubbles. It turns from healthy, healing skin into festering, necrotizing pockets of ooze.

Arcane scrambles to pull back, to retrieve the power of Aquarius that has not yet fused with Freedom's cells to make them heal. He draws in his power and forces it to return, but it spreads too quickly for him to take it all back. His grip slips on his power, and it spreads further.

Black lines creep at first, then spiderweb across Freedom's body as the overloaded magic enters her bloodstream.

Freedom stumbles a step back, drawing in a sharp gasp as she realizes what has happened. She looks up at Arcane in horror, and his ears draw back. The Midnight Wolf earrings —the original one and the one for his first ten years as Midnight Wolf— cast sharp bolts of coldness against his fur that are a shock to his system.

Freedom's trunk curls as her wings flare out to keep her balance.

"Wh-what?" Fear and panic corrode her gaze that's usually so calm. The veins on her jaw and cheek turn black, and Arcane wants to vomit, though he's too horrified to do so.

"I-I'm sorry," Arcane blurts.

He tries to reach out again, this time only to take, rather than to give.

He feels how Freedom's blood pressure drops as the overloaded magic courses further through her bloodstream. Her sides heave for breath and she trips over her legs. She falls to the ground, then scrambles back to her feet. She trips over her own limbs once before managing to stay upright. Her taloned hind legs grip the ground and her forelegs stand wide.

Arcane searches for his own power and attempts to take it back, but it has traveled too far. It's spread too thin. It's no longer localized in the wound on Freedom's shoulder, and instead is spreading further and further.

Arcane cannot take back his power. It's too late.

Freedom stares blankly at him, gaze unfocused. She pants for breath, each one ragged. Sweat drips down her skin, shiny and sparkling in the sunlight. It soaks through her mane, and her fur sticks together in dark brown clumps.

"What's going on?" she asks, voice soft and hoarse.

"I-I..." Arcane trails off. He doesn't want to respond, but he knows he must. She deserves to know his error, and he cannot lie. "I made a mistake. I gave you too much magic."

"What's going to happen?" Freedom's voice grows weaker. She sways where she stands.

Arcane moves to let Freedom lean against him. He holds her upright. Her wing presses into his side, and he bites his lip and digs his claws into the ground as he feels each individual feather and how her cells begin to fail one by one.

Arcane cranes his neck to meet her gaze, even though he wants nothing more than to look away and hide his face. He wants to run to the ends of the world, escape from Ragdon and swim the oceans until he finds some place to live for his forever until the end of time where he doesn't have to remember what's happening, even though he knows he can never forget.

"You-." Arcane's voice cracks. He cannot lie, but he doesn't want to tell the truth. The words rip like broken glass against his throat. "You are going to die."

Arcane has to strain to hear her response.

"I'm going to die?"

Arcane can't tell her yes. That there is nothing he can do and he knows it. His magic —the power of Aquarius— has spread too far. He can feel his magic working its way through her bloodstream and into every cell. He can feel the steadily plummeting blood pressure that he knows she must feel too. He can feel the haze spreading through her body.

But he cannot tell her any of that. He cannot tell her that there is nothing he can do. He cannot tell her that he cannot take her pain away.

Arcane cannot reply. He hopes that she can understand the message written across his expression. But he also hopes that her mind gets too fuzzy and she cannot register any discomfort. He hopes she doesn't have to suffer, even though Arcane knows she is. He hopes that perhaps she won't have to feel everything for too long.

The only power Arcane has to remove pain and suffering is to remove the root cause. Despite all of Arcane's power as the Midnight Wolf, he cannot help Freedom. He cannot remove the root cause in his own magic. Aquarius leaves its touch on every being it comes into contact with, a little piece of its power that can never be taken back. For the majority, its touch is healing and perhaps a small scar, but now with Freedom, the touch of Aquarius cannot be taken back and is killing her.

The constellation burns on Arcane's body, and he wishes he could claw it off, though it would change nothing.

Freedom's mane turns a dark brown with dampness, and light glints off her skin as sweat pools and drips down her body, some soaking into Arcane's fur. She chokes on a breath, eyes turning glassy and distant.

She rasps with her next breath and it catches in her throat, then staggers to the side, trunk curling and limbs spasming. A wing catches Arcane in the jaw but he doesn't react. He cannot react. The sting he feels doesn't register against the torment of watching Freedom die.

Time stretches into infinity as Arcane watches Freedom fall.

Every fraction of a second ticks by, and Arcane sees in devastating clarity every subtle movement Freedom makes as she crashes to the ground in a flutter of feathers, fur, and flesh. A wing flaps open and her trunk stretches out. A foreleg buckles and a hind leg twists under the weight of her body, then snaps as bone breaks in two. Her long tusks carve deep scores in the ground and send up sprays of soil that settle over her rainbow feathers.

When Freedom slams into the ground, Arcane feels the vibration.

Freedom exhales, and her flank slows to a near halt. Her black eye stares straight at Arcane, blank but as if confronting him, demanding an explanation, asking how could you do this?

"No," Arcane whispers. "No, no, no, no!"

He reaches out with his magic.

Freedom's body is virtually silent. He can feel the faint wheeze of her lungs and the labored beat of her heart. He can feel each of her muscles relaxing one by one and the plummeting pressure in her blood vessels, until her heart cannot move enough blood and her brain cannot receive enough oxygen to sustain life.

He tries one last time since he knows he only has one chance. He tries to heal Freedom's body from his own mistake, from his own powers in Aquarius.

He pours every bit of his energy into his attempt. He searches out every last cell in her body, feels for his own power, and tries to pull it out. Tries to take back the power of Aquarius.

But he fails. He cannot do so, and there is nothing he can do as he feels Freedom's body go silent.

And Arcane feels the exact moment all movement ceases. Freedom's lungs exhale once more, and her heart slows to its final stop. Freedom's body goes silent. No more electrical signals zipping along her nerves. No blood coursing through her veins. No air cycling in and out of her lungs. No chattering of cells keeping life in her body. Every sound Arcane is so used to sensing in others from healing countless beings during his time as Midnight Wolf.

But Freedom's body is silent. He feels nothing.

"No, no," he gasps.

Arcane tries to will the spark of life back into Freedom's body. He tries to replicate every movement he is so used to feeling, even in beings on the brink of death. He tries to mimic every sound he has heard a million times. He tries to copy the chaos of life he has felt over and over. He tries to force every bit of that into Freedom's body. To make her heart beat. To make her nerves talk. To make her breathe.

To force life back into her.

He replicates it for as long as he can, holding the chaotic spark of life against her in hopes that it might catch like a flame. But Arcane cannot hold the energy forever, and he feels the power dissipate and slip away into nothingness, the same feeling that fills the empty space once full of life.

He tries to erase the stillness he feels within Freedom's body. The grey. The lack of the vibrance he once felt. The hollowness he now feels.

After a moment, Arcane pulls back. He slowly takes a step back, removes his powers, and just looks at Freedom's body.

Arcane stares at her, but now all that's left is her body. Freedom is nowhere to be found. Instead, all that's in her place is a shell. It's her but not her.

Freedom is gone, and Arcane is responsible.

He leans back on his hind legs, tail dropping to the ground as he takes a step back with a foreleg and his ears pin to the sides of his head.

"No, no, no," he chokes out. "No, you can't be gone, Freedom. You can't be dead."

The wound on Freedom's shoulder stands out in blinding, glaring neon. Her eyes bore sightlessly into him, harsh and demanding, even though he knows she never would've looked at him like that in life.

But maybe she would've if she'd known that he would kill her. That coming to Arcane would be the last thing she ever did. That Arcane would take her life.

Maybe she'd hate him.

Maybe she'd wish death upon him.

The same death he'd give to her.

xxxx

Arcane is immortal.

He cannot die, not until he blinks and sheds the Midnight Tear.

He wishes he could take the place of Freedom, but he can't.

Freedom had a daughter. She had a mate. She had a best friend.

She kept the balance on Ragdon.

She held back the King, keeping his necrotic touch from spreading too far.

But now she is dead.

Arcane has nothing he can offer her. He cannot bring back a life. His power is healing. The forces of life and death fall out of the realm of even the Midnight Wolf.

Arcane drags his gaze back to Freedom's body. The Midnight Tears swim in his eyes, a constant reminder of the only way he will die. He cannot blink. He cannot escape what he did, not even for the split second it would take to blink and consume the world.

Freedom stares him down through blank black eyes.

It should be him dead, not Freedom.

It should be him.

Arcane should be the one who's dead.

"What have I done?" he whimpers.

A part of him expects a reply, for Freedom to stand, shake off the dust, and tell him. How could he really have killed her, even though he knows he did? How could he have fallen so far from what he meant to do?

The wound on her shoulder glares up at him, skin partially knit back together but the rest gaping and loose. It should've been so easy. Arcane had brought back to health beings on the brink of death, heart barely beating and more blood outside their body than in. Skeletons shattered and shards piercing organs. Flesh ripped to shreds. Countless Guard arrows lodged in deep, Soldier's sword wounds splitting skin to the bone. Arcane had healed those on their last breath as Lucius's hand neared to touch and claim their soul.

So how could he have messed up on such a simple wound?

How could he have messed up on Freedom?

Arcane's tail falls and tucks between his legs.

He turns around and sees the King's castle off in the distance, an expanse of marble that stretches tall toward the sky in an elaborate display of never-ending construction, each addition more intricate and complicated than the last. In the castle's shadow lay the Sea, the network of burlap tents Arcane had spent more time in than he'd care to admit. Disease spread quick with everyone so close and the King refused funding more times than Arcane cared to recall.

But how could Arcane return to the Sea, to anywhere on Ragdon, when he had killed?

He vowed to heal, and he can. He can heal anyone from anything but himself. If he's killed once, how can he ever truly hold his vow? He cannot trust himself. If he's killed once, who knows when it could happen again?

If Arcane cannot trust himself, he does not deserve to heal again.

He would blink and shed the Midnight Tear, reset the timeline of Ragdon, but it would solve nothing. He would be dead, too, but Freedom could not come back. Arcane has no power over dead, only Lucius does.

He should be punished. He should face the consequences for his actions, but what consequences could he face if he cannot die and will live forever? He cannot be killed, and no prison could hold him, even though he'd never try to escape.

Anyone alive will be dead within a century, but far more likely within a few decades. They will all forget once Lucius comes. Within two centuries the details will become fuzzy on what really happened, and within another century the truth will become lost within fairy tales.

Freedom's story will become forgotten in a split second of Arcane's lifetime, and he cannot stop it.

Arcane shakes his head.

How can he pay when he cannot die? When he can never make things right? He has no power over life and death— only Lucius does, and Arcane knows they have never brought someone back to life. It disrupts the natural order of things.

He wishes he could run, that he could escape Ragdon, that he could somehow race back into time and refuse to heal Freedom. He cannot kill her if he never heals her.

Arcane bares his teeth and spits a harsh snarl.

The wound would have healed. It would have left a scar and perhaps some permanent damage, but it would have healed. She would be alive.

Arcane was just doing her a favor, one that he should have refused. He never should've touched her.

Freedom had a family. A mate and a daughter and a best friend. She kept the King at bay since there was no way to remove him from the Amethyst Throne. Not without the Wolf and the Dove. She stood as the temporary measure.

Arcane feels the ground rumble off in the distance, and the faint vibrations travel up through his paws. He looks out at the King's castle again.

Somewhere within the walls he knows the King knows Freedom is dead. Maybe not how, but that she has died. That she no longer stands in his way.

Arcane's ears pin to his skull, and he chokes on a breath as his nostrils flare.

He turns back to Freedom and sends out the power of Aquarius.

Maybe-.

Her body is turning cold, but maybe there's a way. Maybe he can take back what he's done. Maybe he didn't try hard enough the first time.

Maybe he can still make this alright and spend the rest of time trying to set things right with Freedom, though he knows there's no way.

Arcane takes a deep breath and gathers up every bit of the power of Aquarius. He knits the chaos of life together and then forces it into Freedom's body, holding it against her. He presses his paws to her side, then calls upon the power of Aquarius and sends it through her veins in the same way that killed her, because it's the only thing he has and things can't get any worse. Freedom's already dead and her body's going cold and her brain has been without oxygen for what Arcane knows is far too long but he can't just not try.

He owes it to her, even though he knows the odds. But if he can just get her alive in some form, then the rest can come later. He can figure it all out, but he first just has to get her alive.

As Arcane forces life through Freedom's body and acts as her life-sustaining organs, he feels her heart beat once on its own, feels it shift blood in her veins, feels a faint spark of electricity zip along nerves, but it's all too soft. It's not enough to keep her alive on her own, but Arcane takes it and continues on, keeping an even closer eye on the balance of the power of Aquarius than he ever has before.

He can't mess up. There's no room for error.

Arcane keeps Freedom alive until he's sure her heart is beating on its own, but it's still not enough. He pulls back ever so slightly, and her heart begins to slow.

Arcane wants to squeeze his eyes shut and look away, to turn his back and try to somehow forget the images he knows are seared into his brain.

He knows what it means. Freedom cannot survive without him. The life she can have now isn't a life. She will never wake up. She will never move again. She will never be fully alive.

And yet Arcane can't retrieve his power. He can't pull away and let her go. Freedom's heart beats, just like it should. Ceasing feeding her his power feels like killing her all over again.

He doesn't have to make the decision, though, as Freedom's heart stops on its own a few moments later. He tries again, but it doesn't restart.

The deafening silence in Freedom's body returns, this time seemingly louder than before. Arcane holds his power against her, sends it through her veins, but he cannot keep her alive forever.

"No, no, no, no," he whimpers as his power sputters. The chaos of life drains the power of Aquarius faster than his abilities as the Midnight Wolf can regenerate them, and he has given so much of his power that he cannot continue.

His power slips and he scrabbles to hold it to Freedom's body but then it fails and slithers away like a snake in the grass.

Arcane chokes on a sob as he falls to the ground beside Freedom. His claws dig into the stone of Ragdon Volcano like he might otherwise drift away. He wants to close his eyes, to stop seeing her cooling body and the hollow look in her eyes and the shell of her body and who she once was but no longer is.

But he cannot close his eyes. If he closes his eyes, he blinks and the world as it is ends. He dies, but he cannot bring back Freedom. He holds no power here.

Arcane's nostrils flare and the Midnight Tears burn in his eyes, but they do not fall. His vision blurs, but he cannot cry.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers as his lip quivers.

His pain is one he knows cannot compare to Freedom's, but it eats at him, chews at his heart and gnaws on his soul.

He can't.

Arcane can't. He can't. He doesn't know how to deal with it. He wants nothing more than to turn back the clock and stop himself from healing Freedom. She should still be alive, but she isn't.

Arcane looks around. The King's castle looms off in the distance, with the hazy outline of the Sea beyond it. They're far away, but they feel so close, like they're standing over his shoulder.

Where can he go?

He wants to escape, to run away from what he's done. To find some way to undo his actions, but there's nothing he can do.

He wants to punish himself and pay for what he did, for taking Freedom's life, but he will live forever. How can he be punished? How can he face consequences when he will live for far longer than a prison could ever stand and far longer than anyone will ever remember?

Whoever hands him his sentence will die within a few decades, and everyone who witnesses it will die and those alive will slowly forget.

Arcane can't face justice, and Freedom's story will be lost to time. He will be the only one who will remember what really happened.

He can't pay for what he's done, but he will never forget.

xxxx

The thought crosses his mind slowly.

Arcane turns his attention to the peak of Ragdon Volcano.

Maybe he can't die. He cannot make things right. Maybe there can't be justice for Freedom, but perhaps he could still die, even if he has to live forever.

Arcane paces back and forth beside Freedom's body. He doesn't want to leave, but he knows he can't stay forever. Eventually he'll have to move.

He wants Freedom to be found, but he doesn't know how he'll explain what happened. He's the Midnight Wolf, but how would he explain himself against the King?

Arcane's lip trembles.

Maybe he won't be able to explain himself.

Maybe instead he should run, run like he wanted to. He'll live forever and won't forget Freedom. Maybe he won't be able to say what really happened, and everyone alive will forget within a few decades, just another few earrings on his ear.

Arcane can never heal anyone else again, never risk another mistake like this one, and he will live alone until the end of time.

The closest thing he can get to death without harnessing the power of the Midnight Tear.

He looks back at Freedom one last time and sears the image of her body into his brain, along with the memory of her alive. How she moved, how she spoke, how she interacted with the world.

"I'm so sorry, Freedom," Arcane whispers. "I hope you know that."

A breeze blows by, and his voice is lost to the wind. He hopes it's carried to wherever Freedom is.

The idea that she's completely gone forever hurts too much.

Arcane drags his legs into motion and starts away from Freedom, each step painfully slow and taking every bit of energy he has, but when he sees a group of Guard and Soldiers off in the distance, he breaks into a run.

He can't face anyone else, not right now.

He never stops, not until he reaches the top of Ragdon Volcano, and the sun dips into the horizon when he finally slows. Perhaps at the top of the mountain he will be able to avoid anyone and everyone until the end of time. Perhaps he can banish himself here and live out the rest of time alone.

If he slipped up once, he can slip up again. This is the only way.

xxxx

"Hello."

Arcane turns around and sees someone approaching. A person, a little on the shorter side, with a soft appearance and smile. Their dark eyes are depthless and never-ending, and their shifting hair falls gently like sand over their shoulders.

Arcane flattens his ears and his tail swishes. He hadn't thought anyone would find him up here.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I cannot help you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the person replies, raising their eyebrows. "I don't intend to ask for your help with anything. Rather, the opposite. I know what happened with Freedom and I've been thinking it over."

"What do you mean?" Arcane asks.

"I'm Lucius. I'm Death. I have Freedom's soul."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arcane strains to keep his voice level, to not betray the pain he feels because he knows it can never compare to Freedom and what her friends and family will feel, if they don't know already. He can't let himself dwell too long on the fact that he knows Lucius stood over Freedom, invisible to himself, and reached out their hand to carry her from life and bring her to death.

"She wasn't supposed to die."

"I know that." Arcane's words hold a bite he didn't intend but can't hold back. "I didn't want to kill her."

"I know that, too," Lucius says. They wave their fingers, and a vulture with inky feathers soars overhead, circling a few times before landing on Lucius's outstretched arm.

"Meet Ananta," Lucius murmurs, stroking her with a slight furrow to their eyebrows. "Don't worry; she's friendly."

Arcane eyes Ananta, who watches him back through eyes as dark as Lucius's.

"What are you doing here? I don't want visitors."

"I came here to make an offer."

"An offer for what?"

"To bring Freedom back."

Arcane flinches, then frowns. "You want to bring Freedom back?" He glances down the side of Ragdon Volcano to where Freedom's body used to lay. It's too far to see, but he still knows exactly where he killed her.

Lucius nods. "I do," they reply.

"What does that entail?"

"Your life." Ananta walks up Lucius's arm to stand on their shoulder. She shakes out her feathers.

Arcane had figured as much. "Ok, what do I have to do?"

"Shed the Midnight Tear-."

"Right now?"

Lucius shakes their head. "No," they say. "You must die when you are supposed to. I cannot mess with the natural order of things too much."

"And when is that? When am I supposed to die?" Arcane presses.

"You'll know. It will be hard to miss."

Arcane bites back a growl, but can't hold back curling his lip and flicking his tail. He shifts on his paws. "You can't tell me?"

Lucius raises an eyebrow. "No, I cannot. But trust me when I say that you will know when it's time for you to blink and shed the Midnight Tear."

Arcane sighs. "Can't you just bring her back now? She didn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve to have her life ruined because of a mistake that I made. She's innocent. She did nothing."

Lucius gazes at Arcane for a long moment. "That's something I've heard a lot," they say, eyes falling to the side and voice becoming soft. "Various versions of that. Death isn't simple. Freedom did nothing wrong, you are right on that, and it wasn't her time to die but she did. I had to claim her soul." Lucius is silent for a few minutes before they continue: "I'm not sure if it will bring you any comfort, but Freedom didn't suffer in her last moments."

Arcane hums, humorless and cross. "She suffered enough beforehand. She knew she was going to die. Even if I hadn't told her as much, I'm sure she would've figured it out. I'm glad she didn't suffer in the end, but she suffered before." Arcane wrinkles his muzzle. "Is it a long time before I can trade my life for hers?"

Lucius tilts their head to the side, and Ananta eyes Arcane, adjusting how she sits on Lucius's shoulder. "What do you consider to be a long time? A long time to a toddler is very different than a long time to me, someone who existed at the dawn of everything and will live until the end of everything."

"Any length of time is too long. What would happen if I blinked right now? Couldn't you just bring Freedom back now? She doesn't deserve this, and this never should've happened. It never would've happened if I had just refused to heal her." Arcane bares his teeth as a dry, choking sob rips from his throat. He sinks back on his haunches, flicking his tail.

"You had no reason to believe healing Freedom would go any differently than before."

"But it did."

Lucius shrugs. "It did, and Freedom is dead."

"Do you see nothing wrong with that fact? I killed her. I wanted to heal her and did the exact opposite. She died because of my powers and the fact that Aquarius always leaves a touch of power behind."

"I do see something wrong with Freedom's death. I see many things wrong with it. But I was instead saying that you had no way of predicting the future. No one can do that, not even me."

"What would happen if I blinked right now?" Arcane asks, standing up and staring down Lucius, head lowered. "What would happen if I shed the Midnight Tear this very second?"

"You would die," Lucius says, "and it's not your time to die."

"You keep saying that," Arcane growls, lashing his tail. He steps in place, resisting the urge to scream. 

"There's an order to things. It takes a life to bring back a life and breaks rules. No one is supposed to die and come back, not like this. And no one is supposed to die so another can live. It goes both ways. When you would've naturally died is when I can bring back Freedom. You will know when it's time."

"But why not now?"

"It's not your time," Lucius repeats.

"You keep saying that."

Lucius ducks their head. "It's what I can tell you."

"Give me one good reason."

"The world cannot be left without a Midnight Wolf."

Arcane frowns, and Lucius continues.

"The world will get a new Midnight Wolf when you die, but they're not ready yet."

"What do you mean they're not ready yet?"

"They haven't been born," Lucius murmurs.

"Choose another one."

"I cannot. That's not how it works. I have no control over the Midnight Wolves."

Arcane bares his teeth as the frustration builds. He wants to close his eyes, to look away, but he can't. He cannot close his eyes on the world.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" Arcane asks.

Lucius doesn't reply, and Arcane continues.

"Freedom's dead, and the only thing I can do to try to make things right, or really less wrong, is some far-off hypothetical you've given me? How long will it take? A hundred years? A thousand? A million?"

Lucius pauses for several moments that feel like an eternity to Arcane. Finally, they respond.

"It's not a hypothetical. A deal is a deal. I know when you will die," Lucius says, and a cold shiver runs across Arcane's skin, "but I cannot tell you. There's a balance to be held, and it's one I cannot interfere with. I will bring you to death when you shed the Midnight Tear. You will know when it's your time and the next Midnight Wolf is ready."

"How? How will I know?"

Lucius studies Arcane, and he holds their gaze, expression folding into a glare. They have the power to bring back Freedom, and they won't, not yet, at least. Staring down Death isn't Arcane's brightest idea, but he can't find it in himself to care. His lips curl as frustration builds within him, a childish kind of feeling.

Lucius tilts their head to the side, and Ananta mirrors the action, eyes endless and dark.

"You will know," Lucius replies, "because the world will be ablaze."

Hello! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into the mind of Arcane and what really happened the day Freedom died.

Originally, the story ended with Arcane banishing himself to the top of Ragdon Volcano for eternity as his own self-imposed punishment for killing Freedom, as is described in The King's Remorse and still stands now, but that didn't quite fit. The story needed the introduction of Lucius, aka Death. The deal had to be struck— Freedom wasn't supposed to die and Lucius couldn't just bring her back right then. They needed a soul for a soul but couldn't bring Arcane to death just yet. And so the deal was made: Lucius will bring back Freedom when Arcane sheds the Midnight Tear and dies himself.

But we'll just have to wait and see as to whether or not that deal comes to fruition and actually happens. Will Lucius hold up their end of the deal? Will Arcane really know when he's supposed to die? Will he ever use the Midnight Tear- he is immortal and can, in theory, live forever? And what would come of a potentially reanimated Freedom?

Character art will be posted in the next chapter!

I hope you're having a wonderful weekend

-Werewolf14- :)