Equal to the eyes of the Sun

~°°~

"You're gonna keep the glasses?"

"Well, I'm not gonna wear them but I don't think I should throw them away," Eris said, affectionately caressing the frame of the mentioned glasses before placing them atop Metal Dude's mirror. The said glasses mewled in response, an approval. "Besides, I melted them off their candles without their consent. I'll remake them as candles somehow."

The Peculiar sighed. They had never longed for a mouth and a bottle of wine until now. Eris had woken up in the evening, their strength regained as well as their enthusiasm, unfortunately. They ate buffalo chicken wings, conversing idly with a mirror and a wax in a glasses as they listened to the recorded meeting from yesterday. "Anyways, what's your plan?"

"Plan," Eris repeated.

".. For escaping."

Eris chewed slowly. Then, gulped. "I will be honest with you. I have no idea how," they admitted. "So far, I've thought of exposing everything to every students and somehow overthrow the Professors and stuff. Surely, one of a hundreds can figure something out."

Well. Everyone has to start at somewhere small, the Peculiar thought. "Any ideas on how you can expose everything?"

"That's the problem," they replied, shaking their head. "With this kind of place, I've probably been forgotten by every students minus the ones who already knew everything but those kinds of people aren't in my side. Plus, with the fact that men and demons alike are just okay with this—enjoying this, to the point that it's a show and an auction..." Their eyes darkened, teeth gritted.

Eris sighed as they continued, "And of course, what happens afterwards once everyone escapes?" Once. Not if. The Peculiar almost laughed at the statement. It's either blind faith or stupid bravery or both. "— I've been so focused in food that I forgot.." They massaged their nose bridge, vexed. "Until yesterday, I haven't even given a proper thought about clothes and medicine, baths, basic hygiene."

"Surely, you little limby things can survive without a few months of baths. And brushes in your wee little teeth. You just need food, water and sleep, right?" Flesh mortals truly are so weak, the book thought to themselves with pity.

They snorted. "Trust me, people have died for less. Even a rusty sword can kill me even if it just grazed. And it wouldn't be because of the sharpness of the blade." Eris laughed, shrill. "We die so easily. It's kind of funny. It sounds crazy to you but without basic hygiene we little limby things would be more vulnerable to infections and diseases. Well, that's what Boreas loved telling me when I hadn't bathed in three days," they said with a roll of their eyes. "It's paranoia right now, but beyond the walls it wouldn't be."

"So. Boreas.." the book trailed knowingly.

"What?" Eris bit off, scathing.

"Why haven't you talked to Boreas? He would be extremely helpful." Mortals and their emotions. No wonder most of them were taken in a quick and foolish death.

"How on earth am I gonna be able to talk to him? It's impossible," they dismissed.

The book shook. "You know it's not. You still have that weird codes of yours memorized. You can transform into anything you want— "

"It doesn't matter," Eris snapped, turning back to their food. "He already told me what he wanted. His choice was clear. He probably forgot about me as well. It wouldn't matter," they ended curtly, eyes burning.

"Children sway their minds as quick as the breeze."

"Not every child's spine are molded by the wind. I would never forgive him." Eris seethed.

The book fell silent for a while, studying them. "You trust you can do this by yourself?" it asked incredulously.

"No," they answered with a sigh, a slight shake in their head. "But, it's not like I have a choice do I?" Eris cleaned off the grease in their hands with a careless wipe to their trousers. "But, it's not like I'm completely alone, I have Metal Dude."

"Yes, its presence is so helpful and appreciated," the book said, dry.

"And well, you're here. You're a friend, right?" Eris said, voice cheery.

"If your definition of friend is someone who helps in exchange for your lifespan, then sure, be my guest," it replied with a bland tone.

Eris waved the book off as they stood, legs wobbling.

The Peculiar was right to their face. "You should rest. The stitches might open if you move too much. It's best if you put hold the planning and such for a few days." Eris opened their mouth to protest but the book continued hastily, "You are no use bleeding and weak. The graduation is a few weeks, still."

Begrudgingly, they sat back down, weary before something akin to triumph flickered to their face. "See? You care for me," they said smugly, puffing their chest before wincing. "Not your fault, I'm extremely charming."

"When you're asleep, maybe yes," it grumbled under its breath as it returned to its station, covering the space Eris presides.

Eris hummed. It's been mere seconds and yet they were already plucking the grass in obvious boredom, legs tapping to the dirt. It took precisely ten more— the book had the countdown already in their head, too used on the stirrings on their owner's mind to be shocked about it— when Eris demanded, "What exactly am I supposed to do here?"

"Rest."

That wasn't enough to placate them, of course. "I just slept," Eris whined. "Help me brainstorm a plan instead."

The Peculiar muffled an indignant grumble. "No. I'm a book."

"An immortal book with superpowers."

"Who's merely a part of your consciousness." Supposedly atleast. Considering Eris' past behaviour when it comes to schoolwork, it had hoped for once that they'd pull a certified Eris Heindell move which is forgetting everything they have heard in a blink.

Eris rolled their eyes. "That's a lie. Don't think I'd forget our conversation." Pointing an accusing finger as they quipped, "You're just lazy."

The Peculiar bristled at that. "Lazy? I'd love to remind you that your laundry piled and collected dust for a month. You bath thrice in a week because 'the bed is too comfortable' and— "

The kid shut up after that. The next time the Peculiar had looked behind, they had curled up in the grass, fast asleep.

~°°~

It was midnight when it heard a rustle, Eris waking up with a tremble, hands like hardened bronze curled into fists, gripping uprooted grass. Heavy inhales punctuated the air followed by an almost incoherent mumbling of a count.

The book remained silent. Mortals and their attachments. You'd think that with their short lives they'd be more inclined to let go. It supposed that it's like being an ant; the smallness of their lives made even the speck of dust look important.

A still embossed itself, the sound (or rather the lack of it) relieved the Peculiar immensely. The kid probably had slept back again. In the morrow, the wound must be checked. The stitch was laughably terrible— the book dared not to say that outloud because the kid would take that as a challenge and do something stupid.

A hushed whisper cradled in the air. "Do you ever dream?"

The Peculiar pondered whether or not to answer. Eris let out an impasse sigh, quiet enough to rattle the book into a response. "Of course not."

"That's good," Eris said, sucking a breath. "Dreams are terrible." They sat up, head tiredly leaning on the rough skin of the tree. "Are there dreams that tell the future?"

"Maybe. Magic is certainly odd. Gods are always kind enough to be vague."

Eris snorted, tossing away the grass and cleaning off the dirt in their palms. "That's one way to put it. Before her death, I kept dreaming about it, a hand reaching out to the wall. Well, if I'm not dreaming about an exploding head or a hazy looking man forcing potions down my throat or—" They gulped. "The point is, somehow, I knew. And I couldn't do anything about it. How can vagueness be kindness?"

"Blatant truth can be bitter," the immortal replied.

"I suppose." They sighed. "Boreas dreamed about it too. Lena would wake up in cold sweat sometimes, clutching her thigh. She'd laugh it off and eat it off." They shook their head, wild dark curls carrying blades of grass framing a tired face. "I should have trusted my gut. I wanted to run away the moment I saw the tree."

"Lethe," the Peculiar corrected.

Eris blinked, nodding in the darkness. "Lethe," they repeated like a prayer. Then, their eyes were back to gazing into the nothingness. If the Peculiar have eyes and squinted at them, they would perhaps, see a reflection of a distant dream.

"Once you're free, what do you plan to do?"

The book halted, taken aback. "I'm not sure. I'd probably return back to the Sun and be absorbed by my Creator."

"That's not freedom then. That's just death."

"Your definition of freedom is different from mine," it said curtly.

Eris amended, bobbing their head. "Yes, of course." They changed the topic to something more amicable. "The sun is your creator. I suppose that means those Yves and— I forgot the name— but what I mean is, are they just fairytales?"

"I don't know. But I do know that men forget quickly and tell their tales as swift no matter how true," the Peculiar answered, tone neutral. "I serve only the Sun."

Eris nodded once again, deciding not to comment about the symbols of suns etched on the forehead of the Professors and Rycella. That's another can of worms for note ten. Instead, they said; "I wanted to be the Elderstire once. To be more precise, I wanted to be a hero."

"Quite a novel goal," the book said, trying very hard to be interested. Eris looked thoroughly amused at the effort.

"I suppose that won't be that interesting for an immortal," they grinned good-naturedly. A yawn formed in their lips and Eris stretched to their position comfortably, eyes shutting close. "It's just a nice thought, you know? To matter."

"Everything and everyone matters," was the diplomatic response. "Everyone is equal to the eyes of the Sun."

"You really should just pick one, y'know," Eris said softly. "It's either everything matters or mortals are like ants. It's either freedom or death. They're not the same thing at all, Mister Immortal Book."

The Peculiar responded by saying nothing at all. It had never heard of an Owner being able to read their Peculiar nor known a Peculiar with semblance of freedom, much less being scolded by a kid. A rather dumb kid at that too. It supposed then, that some days were just meant to surprise you (which on it's own was shocking already. There's nothing that should surprise an immortal.)

~°°~

Eris stole a set of uniform and a discarded table cloth the next day, relieved of the bloodied and tattered rags. The wounds underneath them healed, barely even scarring thanks to those Healing Glyphs. The stitches were made out of them anyways, and so it ingrained itself back to flesh.

They stole a thread too, but no needle. When the Peculiar asked why, they shrugged and said they needed to learn how to sew.

"I can't always haul chests with my Pe—with you, I mean. I need a light bag. Hence," they motioned to the tablecloth. "Plus, clothes would be limited outside. I'd need to learn how to fix them. And well, it'd be lovely to improve my oh so terrible stitches." They sent out a smug grin towards the Peculiar before nipping the threads with their teeth, eyes squinting as they inserted it on the eye of the needle that formed in the tip of their index finger.

Practicing first in their shredded old clothes, fingers meticulously weaved through fabric and air. Neck craned forward and low, eyes narrowed and tensed in focus for the lone passage of light was the tree's burrow. Pointed blade in and through, then pull and again but this time, to the other side. Then, again and again. There was a rhythm to it, Eris found. They thought it would be a boorish chore but something akin to relaxation and prided satisfaction flickered as they raised and flourished the fixed upper parts of the garment.

Dotted blood from prickled fingers dried on some parts of the fabric. The line of thread sometimes uneven, still having that wonky, clumsy feel. It was far from perfect, but it would do well enough; a heavy improvement from their first. (Although, Eris defended for the entirety of their lives, that sewing clothes and being in heavy pain as you sew your on flesh were very different. The Peculiar had another opinion about that, condensed in one word: 'Pussy.' They would argue about this until, the book was gone.) Humming, they folded the stitched tunic and focused on the trousers, ignoring the book's taunts.

Rainfall came by late midday. Laundry day. Eris clambered out of the burrow despite their Peculiar's protests, face brightened with loud laughter as rushing water kissed their skin. The tall, damp grass no longer as itchy, rejoicing along with them it seemed. The first ever bath after ages despite the lacking equipment. That spurned Eris the idea to steal Professor Jhlor's shampoo and soap tomorrow. That man looked and smelled way too nice for a demon infested, dystopian world.

Predictably, the kid stayed out too long and ended up shivering like a wet dog by evening, palms wrinkled and clumped. The new uniforms laid near the entrance of the burrow, wet and Eris had to retreat back to their dirty but newly fixed clothes.

"I wanted to test if they would hold anyways," they insisted passionately despite not even convincing themselves. Eris pulled and buttoned their trousers, hearing a jingle of metal in the pant's pockets. A nail necklace with rust growing in its tips. Eris quietly clasped it around their neck. Cold water dripped from their locks and this was when Eris realized the importance of a fucking towel. For now, they used the stolen tablecloth.

("How do I make this into a bag?"

"...I'm really not the person for this, kid.")

By nightfall, the shiver persisted. Eris huddled underneath the tablecloth, shaking, a small torch perching itself atop their knee. "It hurts," they hissed, lips trembling, eyes zeroed at their missing finger. Goosebumps climbed on chestnut skin. "It's not there but it hurts."

Warm, orange tones painted the dim burrow, shadows tall and circling. The light flickered.

"Phantom pains," the Peculiar said, too used at the way the words rolled out. Mortals were always so greedy. Despite, all the knowledge they've boasted, they seldom learn to be content. "Sometimes, it gets triggered by the cold."

"I should've brought some numbing potions," Eris muttered, patting the darkened, withered skin where the empty space of their pinkie resided.

"You should have," it agreed.

"Something warming too. Do you think it'd be cold outside?"

"Maybe."

Eris made a grab for the threads once again, hands still trembling but determined. "I should make this stupid bag. And stock up more food and supplies. Two chest probably won't be enough."

"I think you're biting off more than you can chew," the Peculiar argued. "There's no need to make a complicated bag. You can just like.. put the fruits, fold it then sew the open space between."

Eris blinked, lips quirking begrudgingly. "I—You're right. That'd be easier." They paused. "Should I also steal pillows?"

"No. Too much fluff. Takes so much space."

Eris nodded.

They left the small warmth of the table cloth as they folded it and began to sew the sides until the torch died and light snores echoed. Eris, still seating, the thread resting in their thumb, half their body inside the table cloth, and their rusty necklace drooping from their collar.

The Peculiar lived for ages now. It's the first time it felt so weary. Does the kid want a tetanus? Idiotic lunacy.

It was not even kindness nor care, really, when one of their pages tore itself out of the bound and rammed to the necklace; dulled the point of the nails and cleared off the rust. It's pity.

Eris twitches at their sleep, blearily awakened by a booming voice in a tower, eye bags marking under their eyes.

~°°~

"What do you mean you're going off alone?" the book demanded, flying past to the brat, in a sort of attempt to stop them. "Have you gone mad?"

"Look," Eris began, raising their hands placatingly. "You need to hide the stuff in here." Their head jerked, motioning to opened chests, a mirror, a mess of threads and a filled bag, tied in its end. "You don't have to be near for the Peculiar to be shared with me anyways. I'll be fine."

"I don't trust that you won't do something stupid."

Eris' lips pressed themselves into a thin line. "I'll be quick and breezy, trust. Plus, if I do think about something stupid, you can just whiz back to me then hit me in the head or something."

Before the book protested, they were off with the wind, a wisping, wilted leaf. Here was it again, the beginning of a sigh. How ridiculous it was to feel like they aged a millennia in a second? Are mortals often like this? The book wondered to itself. It thought of its previous owner but there was no moment of recollection, only a shroud of pure unbridled anger and wanting that were not theirs. Always demanding.

Ancient pages turned themselves into an undetectable disguise; a curtain painted so realistically, hanging on the the top of the hollow. A silence in the burrow, lest for the occasional small squeaking and whining of those vexatious wax stuck in the glasses. Nevertheless, there were no murmurs about terribly planned plans and inane rambles about nothing. A tightening empty space lingered in the hollowed tree, bringing along the almost unsettling peace the book had not experienced in a decade at least.

The Peculiar twitched in pure relaxation, perking up with pure annoyance whenever there's a twinge from the other side of the bond. A haunting ire burned. It was utterly familiar, and filled with something akin to longing that it had recognized who was it for. An irritated mumble echoed from the other end, something about alcohol and late night plights that had their owner raging.

The Peculiar internally rolled its eyes, when the fury subsided, replaced by a sinking depth, a cold suffocation akin to a quick sand. The inner thoughts of Eris Heindell went from insanely mad to madly depressing in a span of mere seconds. Mortals over complicate things and if it wasn't for the fact that the book was emotionally tied to one, it'd be entertaining.

Thankfully, numbness was what followed after, one of the less obscuring emotions. And then, quiet mumbles of planning. Oh boy. Still, the Peculiar persisted, exhaling the quiet breeze and the smell of morning dew. It barely took ten minutes when it felt another tug. And a flood of 'Rycella's barged in like a wildfire. Teenagers are the bane of my existence, the Peculiar pitifully bemoaned. Gods, I want to sleep. The thoughts halted, the 'Rycella's stuttered the moment it was said and guilt came rushing, endless 'sorry's mounting from the other side. Which was more annoying.

The Peculiar sighed, almost countless now and it's just the morn, stupid unique bonds.

Eris came back, somewhere in midday, looking utterly triumphant despite the sheen of sweat in their forehead. There's bottle of shampoo under their arm and rolled over blanket in the other, pockets busting in its fullness.

Surely, this place's security couldn't be that bad, the book thought to itself, grim. Especially with that Principal of theirs. It's been days now, and still there had been no search parties and not one had bothered to check the only tree outside of the Dome. How odd.

Eris paid this oddity no mind, of course, energetically telling the stories of their escapades that the book had already known as they sink back to the burrow. The wax sounded interested though.

~°°~

"What name would be good to Metal Dude?" Eris asked as they sewed the blanket. It looked like a deformed bag that had way too much threads sticking out of it.

"Isn't Metal Dude a name already?"

Eris sent a dismissive wave. "Too long." They glanced at the mirror with cryptic look. "How about Shiny? Wax could be Melty." The book hoped that it's gobsmacked silence was enough as a response. It was not. Instead, Eris blurted out; "You could be Bond too. 'Cause bound? Like book bound. And Bond because of the Owner—"

"Bond," it repeated incredulously. "Bound has a 'u' on it. And I'm not a dog."

"No, of course not. But, do you really want to be called The Book or Mister Immortal Book for the rest of your life?"

"I don't care about such things," it icily replied.

Eris sipped a prickled finger, shrugging. "Suit yourself."

"Will you sleep now?" the book snipped. The kid pretended not to hear, focusing down on their work. The Peculiar huffed because do you know who would also get the brunt of everything when Eris Heindell falls ill? Mortals are such stubborn, thoughtless worms.

"I can hear you, you know," Eris called out.

That's the point. A sigh painted the silence. As if it's the book who's being obtuse. Mortals' audacity continued to exceed expectations.

"I don't want to dream, so I won't sleep just yet," Eris blurted out with an air of petulance. "I won't get sick. I swear."

"If dreams scares you so, then I hope you never get to go outside." Sneer laced the words. "What would you gain in this idiocy? You weaken yourself."

Redness spread to Eris' ears, a harsh scowl settling on their features. Orange tinged their face, glistened by the light of the torch in their shoulders. "Aren't you supposed to be attuned to my emotions?" The book muttered a quiet 'unfortunately' which Eris ignored. "Understand then, why this is harder than it seems. "

The book scoffed. "Do you plan on never sleeping until you're sure you won't dream? Do you realize how impossible that is?"

Eris shot a dark look, fire burning under hooded eyelids, teeth grinding together. "I thought you'd be somewhat understanding. But I suppose books who do nothing but sip on lifespans and body parts like leech, wouldn't."

"I gave you a choice," the book said affronted. "I gave you my warnings, which you didn't heed, and here you are, blaming me for the losses you have—"

They let out a strained laugh. "What choice does a trapped, bleeding kid with dwindling food and water have? Did you think I can get out of there, limping but undetected without giving up some of my life? Did you really believe that I," they drawled bitterly, "of all people, would find a way to perfect this Peculiar in a few days? Tell me. Did I have a choice?"

There was no response. Only steely eyes and frozen finger with a needle.

The voice that filled the air was Eris', a pointed jibe. "But then, again," they mocked with a curl in their lips, ice in their words. "Your image of freedom is stunted. Your wish is to disappear because you don't know how to live or the costs of it. You don't even know how to dream, much less the freedom of choice. I live and I'll die and you'll watch. Then you'll forget. That's all there is to you."

It's barely been a week and the book found itself rendered speechless twice by a mortal. Eris huffed with an air of finality and turned around, snuggling themselves on the half-sewn blanket.

~°°~

Eris found a body under the tree.

It started on where everything starts; a harmless question. A question asked as a tentative olive branch after an icy silent breakfast and a stiff, awkward lunch. "Do you think they're lying about the Shroud?"

The book took it with hesitance, an inedible pause hanging before a gruff answer. "Why would they be?"

Eris' thick brow smoothed, tapping their crossed knees. "Look how the grasses grow taller and thicker when we're farther in. It's like life trying to seep into the Dome." They leaned forward, gesturing atop them. "Like there's tree. A fucking tree."

"Well, I suppose it is quite odd," the book considered thoughtfully. "And the fact that it has such an enormous burrow adds to the mystery."

Eris tilted their head, growing curly hair following the motion. "Do trees not have burrows usually?"

"It's odd because there aren't some animals or extreme environmental changes that could make a burrow this big," it explained. "I can't imagine that a bacteria of some sort made this hollow in its own. Especially a tree this young."

Black eyes glinted in a sudden excitement. "You think there's some animal living here?"

"I doubt that. I'm just saying it's odd."

Eris stood without stumbling, feet completely healed now. "Can't hear you," they said cheekily with a grin as they rushed out of the hollow. "I'm climbing this damn tree."

"A burrow this low tells me that they are no climber. And considering everything, even if there was an animal in here, chances are it's probably dead."

"Killjoy." Eris stuck their tongue out but their hand had already shaped itself into a shovel and they had gone back in.

"You're truly gonna dig for it? Even if it's just a fossil? A mere bone?" asked the book.

Eris shrugged as they began to dig, dirt sticking to their face. "It lived, didn't it?" Brow sharpened by some sort of determination, eyes glinting as if to prove a desperate point. "Once I find it, I'll name it, treasure it and bury it somewhere worthy of its tenacity to live."

The book thought of nodding despite the inability of it, voice stuck on its throat, or wherever it was books begat their voices.

It took ten minutes of grunts, sweat, dirt and grass for Eris to actually get somewhere. Maybe it's a beaver, Eris had said in bright excitement that the book did not had the heart to say that beavers live in dams, in ponds. Instead however, fragmented human bones weaved in the tree's roots, embraced so tightly.

"It's a bit bigger for a beaver," said Eris with a tight grin.

But Eris knew. Eris knew because the Peculiar knew. And the book knew because it had seen it a thousand times, almost impossible to forget with how it etched itself to each and every of its pages.

Eris let out a bark of laughter, giddy, head thrown back. "This must be him," they said with all the longing, jealousy and with all the hurt.

"Who?"

"The boy Rycella mentioned." They lilt their head, almost fond. "Always back to Rycella." Eris shook their head as they picked up the bone pieces. "I guess it makes sense now—all these grasses and the tree. She must have been desperate to keep him alive."

"What, how?" the book asked incredulously.

Eris threw the curtain a furtive look. "She doesn't just heal, she's the fountain of life reincarnated." Their face settled into something more wistful, eyes looking faraway. "She used to grow flowers near the Healing Lodge and tell me their names and their meanings. Rycella is a Special. Shouldn't you know that already?"

"Well, I'm fucking sorry I didn't know every detail about Rycella Gullerva," the Peculiar replied sarcastically. "Plus, you've mentioned Rycella and Special so many times together that I had thought..."

"You had thought?" Eris implored, an eyebrow raised.

The Peculiar sighed. "It is nothing. What are you going to do with the bones?"

Eris wiped the slick of sweat dripping on the side of their face as they began to dig even more. "Get them all and bury it. I'll put him in the bag as well until I find a place suitable. It's what she wanted for him."

"You don't even like him," it quipped, blunt as ever.

Eris barely flinched. "It doesn't matter."

The Peculiar tried again. "It's just gonna be extra luggage. Think of this logically, Eris."

The fire in their eyes reignited, brows cutting sharp. "I believe that everyone made should be free and if they can't have it when they lived, I swore to myself then, that at the very least, I'll make sure they'll have it in their death." Their chest heaved, breaths stuttered as they glared over dug dirt, teeth gritted. "If only—if only Lethe's bones, her remains—I would have—I swore I would have—"

They sniffed, almost angrily wiping down the burning tears that managed its way out as they continued digging the ground while the other hand picked up any bones sticking up. The Peculiar sighed once again, and let them be. By evening, Eris finished their sew soon enough, bones laying on the new bag's belly while the unearthed ground found its way back, still soft and begging to be known.

They looked absolutely miserable.

"I'd like the name Bond." The icy silence was unbecoming and uncomfortable, the book reasoned. It would lessen the tightening tension. Its an apology too, in a way.

Eris chuckled, voice gruff and tired. "You fucking liar."

The next day, Eris woke up before the echoing voice from the tower, eyes still pink red and heavy but face stiffened with realization. When the Principal's bright but rather deep voice boomed its usual greetings. Eris smiled, eyes glinting as they stood determinedly, short stature casting a large shadow. "I think I know what to do now."

Naturally, it's incredibly dangerous. But it was the best idea so far.

"—it was right in my face the whole time," Eris said animatedly, filled with fervor.

Bond, however, was not convinced. "And what comes after every student knows the truth? Sure, the Principal would be out of the commissions but what about the Professors?"

Eris dismissed its notions with a wave of a hand. "What can they do against a bunch of students with superpowers? Why'd they even give Peculiars to us in the first place?"

"Flavor. Richer blood and meat quality," the Peculiar answered. Eris didn't even look surprised at that. "But, what about the demons? And how are you planning to escape?"

Eris tapped their chin. "I have a ploy of some sort that might hold the demons and those Greater Men a little while. As for the, escape part, Rycella knows." They shrugged. "She went in here after all."

"The demons and the Greater Men aren't stupid, you understand? They might not believe—"

Eris interrupted curtly, "Didn't they say that the Principal is very well-known on shocking her audience?"

Bond was uncertain. "Fine. And the Shroud?"

"I don't know anything about it," Eris surmised ambiguously. "We'll handle it once we're out."

"Does it not rattle you that Rycella, the so-called 'fountain of life reincarnated', would go to a demon farm in her own volition, just to get away from the outside?" the Peculiar pointed out. "Not to mention, what do we do to the new kids?"

Eris' eyes narrowed in confusion, gazing at the book-turned-curtain. "What else? Bring them with us."

Bond let out an unbelieving chortle. "We don't have enough food already. The kids are too small and they'll be nothing more but a baggage and extra headaches. You don't have a plan for the Shroud, for the housing, for the demons and you will bring a bunch of brats with you to their death."

Black eyes flashed. "What should I do then? Do you suggest staying and become demon food instead?"

"Of course not," it disputed crossly. "Just bring a few that are strong, capable and smart enough to survive outside. The fruits that you have procured won't be —"

"Then, I'll get more today. I have to. I won't leave children to their deaths," Eris finalized, tone filled with venom and face screwed into a stubborn glare. A silent face off between the two burned through. The immortal relented.

"Fine," the Peculiar uttered out with a hint of lament. "Will Rycella help though?"

"She would. She felt guilty."

The Peculiar studied the kid carefully. "Do you trust her?" it asked despite knowing the answer. The kid did not.

Eris bit their lip, fingers narrowing to their cuticle. "I do."

"You don't. You're angry at her."

"I am," Eris admitted. "I believed in her. Truly," they said forcefully. "I trust her to do the right choice for once. We promised each other. That has to count to something, right?"

The curtain shrugged. "If you say so."

The leaves of the tree began to fall.

~°°~

Days passed in a fast manner; a blur even.

There's four bags now, made of blankets and sheets, lined threads now paced and no longer as overwhelming. Bottles of shampoo, shoved in there, along with fruits, folded towels and blankets. No pillows because of the fluff. Eris checked everything as they braided their hair for the first time ever since their disappearance. It was harder than they remembered, perhaps numb fingers had gotten too used to sewing, to digging and thieving, now unfamiliar to it. But, they finished the braids regardless.

"It's time. Today's the day." Eris stood, wringing their hands. "I'll take them when I'm done."

The book felt them pace around with unease, counting ringing out of their head. "You still have a week left before the Graduation. There is no need to rush."

They shook their head, licking their upper lip. "No, no," they hissed, tersely. "They'll be more vigilant at the Graduation. I'll be expected. It's good to be early, catch them in a time they don't suspect. It'll be fine."

"If you say so," the Peculiar amended, too used to the shortening temper. It's like a live wire, it thought. A bomb with an unknown fuse. Eris bobbed their head, noncommittally as they squared up at nothing, shoulders tensed.

"Do you intend on beating the living shit out of Principal at broad daylight?" asked Bond knowingly. Eris, despite all their bravado, balked and blushed and sat down.

"I suppose, I can wait for the evening."

And wait, they did. It felt longer than the entirety of the week as if the artificial daylight was begging to stay as long as possible. Inevitably, the long night came, colder than it usually was. The breeze smelled of grass, the tree veering at its harsh tug as its browning leaves fell urgently. Ever since the body had been dug out, it had been like that. It's dying. The Peculiar thought.

"It is. Last of its kind, probably." Eris stood and gazed at the entirety of the hollow, at the insides of the rotting trunk, face cascaded in the dim. They went quiet for a moment, contemplating about something. "If I fail and die, remember me." They looked older, lines on their face scrunched by tension, and yet also every bit of that desperate child that wanted to be a hero.

The silence hung loud enough.

Eris grinned. "Come. Let's go."

And so, a shadow falls.

With their Peculiar, it was disgustingly easy to sneak to the Principal's tower. A smoke billowed at the kettle's ring, a tap-tapping noise filling the air. Their throat felt dry as they detransformed. Eris prowled behind a sitting silhouette, hands trembling as their left wrist sharpened into a blade while the other rushed to grab the neck. A shocked grunt muffled by their quick hand as they slashed the Principal's forehead, where the symbol of the sun rested.

Shaking, Eris pressed the tip of the blade to dark skin, chapped lips trembling. "Open the thing you use for every morning," they murmured harshly, out of breath. They tilted it closer til it drew blood. "Move elsewhere and I will kill you. Change what I order you to say and I will kill you. You must tell that all the following events are just a part of the Trial, understand?"

There was a simple nod, and more adrenaline rushed to Eris' brain. The grip felt surer now but as Eris blinked and readied themselves to speak again, they found themselves sitting in a treeless meadow, nails filled with dirt and blood.

~°°~

LAST CHANCE TO GO AWAY.

GO AWAY.