Hello, everyone. I want to start this off by saying I am extremely sorry. There is no excuse for my year-long absence and the hiatus leading up to it, though I will explain myself and my current situation with this story after the chapter (the usual review-replies will be included as well, for those who look). As for now, please enjoy the chapter. It was originally supposed to be shorter, but you all deserved a large update. 20k words, I hope that will suffice as an apology to all the wonderful people who have supported this story.

*Warning*: Rating of this particular chapter is Mature (M) because of an increase in violence. Due to the rest of the material being primarily T-rated, I'll leave this warning here.

Only on one occasion before had Lavi faced himself—truly, at least. Granted, he had never intended to come face to face with them: a tiny figure with familiar, antagonizing green eyes that embodied his nostalgia and past regrets; a spectator of absolute indifference. If Lavi had the choice, hell, he would have chosen to remain as he was. He would have preferred never to see himself from a separate point of view so he couldn't view the festering insides that ate away at what could have been deemed a pathetic little heart. No, he would have gladly never crossed that path. But Road, that devil, had proven herself to be a conductor of trickery. It never crossed her mind that she should be the one to actually fight him face-to-face. True, it was her "dream". But that didn't deviate Lavi from naming it what it was: deception. She left the fight primarily to the demons he hadn't known he was holding within himself. A haunting ghoul of sobriety and stoicism that, in Lavi's spare times of thought, he had come to genuinely fear had stared at him. And he had stared back to see the ugly truth. He would be content to never see it again. But his dreams had a way of making that exceptionally difficult for him. They were only memories that had been marred and warped and nothing more. But, God, he swore sometimes that they were so real that he could feel the frigid water that had lapped against his ankles; he swore he could feel his heart hammering away in fear. But each time he awoke. Sometimes he woke with such a start that the old panda-faced geezer would stare at him with one open eye, his hair a puff above his head and his weathered face showing with the lack of make-up. Lavi could hear his weary utterances in that gruff voice, and memories of his own replies...

What is that look for, brat?

H-uh?... (There was a pause) Nothing. Just a dream, 'ol man.

(He exhaled. Lavi could hear his breath as it ghosted over the feather pillow's surface) Dreams can't hurt you. You ought to know that... Now get some sleep.

Sure thing... Panda.

He would have given anything to have that conversation once more. He wanted to wake from the dream he was in and to hear Bookman's old, guttural tone tiredly slurring for him to sleep and not wake him until the sun rose. But Bookman was not there, nor was he or anyone else for that matter in just a dream. The dreams were memories of that one moment twisted and marred by the subconscious he refrained from acknowledging so much. But this… This was himself again. A real mirage — as much of a paradox as that was — a real image of him that had appeared once more to rip from him the stable bindings of his mind. And Lavi wasn't so sure if the presence of his comrades quelled his suddenly rising anxiety.

They all saw it standing there before them. Allen had been the first, but each of them had turned to lay their eyes upon that horrid image before them with equal amounts of confusion, shock, and even terror. This wasn't the real Lavi they were seeing; they knew this. A new addition posed a terrible threat when it was derived from Road's own devious thoughts. So they were cautious.

He stared.

They stared.

And the copy stared right back at all of them.

The copy's lips curled into a smirk upon seeing the puzzlement of his mirror image and his comrades.

"Lavi," Allen began, hesitant to speak. "What does this mean?"

"I'm not sure, sprout." Lavi answered after a pause of careful consideration. This was nothing like before. For one, there was an audience. But the lingering, nagging ambiance was what made it seem like less of a comparable thing. These felt like exclusive events.

The severity of the situation was oddly accepted when no rebuttal came from Lavi's habitual nickname. They were in a dire situation once more — or perhaps not. It was likely that they were encountering a dangerous new enemy. But Road was almost just as likely to fool them and torture them with an assailant that mirrored their own comrade…. Or she could be attempting both. Neither instance seemed particularly favorable. Either way, they would have to find a way to defend themselves without the use of Innocence.

Kanda seemed to steer himself to the same conclusion. Essentially helpless, he still stepped forward into a stance that suggested the arrival of a samurai: a warrior of destruction who would slay all before him even if blood should stain the steel of his blade or his pale fists. He spoke with vehemence, spitting out, "I'll still cut you in two."

Lavi shivered. Oh, this was wonderful. With his luck, or rather lack thereof despite his "rabbit's foot" [1], Kanda would jumble up the two Lavi's and he would end up with a slit throat... Or a decapitated head… Or any other ghastly injury the man's fury could unintentionally or intentionally unleash upon him. He gulped.

"Do you think it is wise to rush ahead unarmed?" Link challenged the skilled warrior without an ounce of trepidation. "This is not our domain."

"He must not have grasped that in the last fight." Allen uttered. He gained a glower from Kanda and a shaking head from Lenalee.

"Patience is kind to those who endure the wait." Krory said wisely, and from behind him Miranda piped up, chirping, "Let's think about this!"

Lavi couldn't agree with their decision more. But he understood Kanda's jump to violence, to action. They had no clue when that thing would attack, or speak, or do whatever the hell it was that Road had sent him down to do. The thing was already grinning at them, staring Lavi down threateningly. But it still waited patiently. Something itched beneath Lavi's skin.

"Something's off about this…" He mumbled, his voice trailing off in thought.

"Look!" Miranda suddenly gasped.

"We have more to worry about..." Lenalee remarked reluctantly.

More to worry about, just great… In time with his thoughts, Lavi spun on his heels as Allen did at his side. Once he was facing the direction the girls of the group had so adamantly drawn their attention to, he stared and stared and stared. For just a split second he considered accusing them of lunacy in that desperate moment when nothing at all appeared. He even opened his mouth as he dared to say the words himself. Abruptly Allen went rigid beside him. From his peripheral vision, Lavi observed as Allen blinked, squinted his eyes, and then stared ahead with a crumpled face of shock upon his countenance. "There are more!" He gasped suddenly.

"More?" Lavi questioned. "What the hell are you guys talking ab—" Lavi was cut short as something cold wrapped itself around his ankles. It felt like scales, oddly. Frigid, rough patches scratched his skin as appendages wrapped around his ankles and scraped his skin. He nearly squealed like a woman, but he still had a sliver of his pride. He crashed to the floor with a yell — not a squeal, mind you — and gazed down in shock at the curled items around his ankles that had just begun to tug and claw at him.

They were hands.

Lavi lifted his arms defensively in horror, recoiling as arms joined the fingers and hands. Then came two shoulders and then a slim neck. Finally the grappling creature revealed its face, and this time Lavi let out an explicit. Dear God, he thought, it's Lenalee. There before him was another image, another mirage. But he wasn't facing himself at all this time. He recognized her round but slim face. Where a youthful splash of color would usually color her cheeks a pallid expanse of skin spread out. Her eyes were the usual lavender but hollow, stoic in their unblinking nature. It was Lenalee. But it also wasn't, and that much was apparent enough. Flashes of his recollection rolled before his eyes, replaying from that record inside of his head.

All of the dead bodies… The knife, their white eyes, their grabbing hands, reaching for him but only to plunge that last final blow….

Lavi shook himself. Memories had no place in this instance. He couldn't let Road's shenanigans inhibit his quest with his friends. He'd be damned if he did. The mirror of Lenalee was grabbing at his legs, pulling her straight out of the ground as if a pit of tar lay beneath it all.

"Hell, I'm not helping you up!" He shouted out. He felt the sickness churning his stomach as his hand was forced once more by Road to injury a comrade, be they real or not. He shut his eyes so tightly that it made his head hurt. He kicked and twisted and jerked his body in a desperate attempt to free himself. But she just wasn't relenting. No matter how much he kicked, wriggled, writhed. Nails sunk into his calves as the ghostly reflection pulled itself up carefully, slowly.

"Lavi!" Someone called out his name.

Twisting onto his stomach, Lavi spotted an outstretched hand closing the distance. For a split second he gazed ahead of him and examined the body reaching out for him with desperation.

It wasn't who he expected, though that didn't lessen the intensity of his relief to see a familiar face before him that didn't lack a lively look. The slim fingers reaching out to him stretched forth from a slender arm and gently sloping shoulders where chocolate brown curls spilled out in an unruly style. Warm brown eyes searched his and demanded a reaction from him. The grief and panic within them was too human, too real for him to question to the point of endangering himself. Putting his faith into his judgment, Lavi closed the space. His fingers curled around the smaller feminine ones desperately. And she pulled.

He gave a cry as Miranda attempted to free him from the mirage's grasp. She pulled with all her might, which was surprisingly enough to jostle him as the talons in his calves dug deeper and deeper, gaining a better hold of his flesh. He could feel it as the wounds opened up to weep scarlet blood. He would need medical attention, he was sure of it. He had enough knowledge to assess himself. The rapidly draining blood and the deep lacerations didn't make it too hard to predict anyway.

"H-hold on," Miranda stammered. She was struggling to force his release from the creature. But it was slowly becoming apparent that the more she pulled, the more damage that was inflicted upon him. Her face was reddening with the strain. Her teeth dug into her lip with determination.

"You can't do this alone, Miranda," Krory said, suddenly behind her. His hand clutched her own and in turn Lavi's shaking fingers. Together they pulled as Allen ran toward them from the sidelines. He appeared so far away now.

But hadn't he been right beside me?

"Ahhh!" His comrades pulled. Even with their combined strength it wasn't enough. The only thing that was accomplished was creating another gouge in his calve. Lavi could feel the drain of this one. His consciousness wavered, his vision dimmed and blurred and swayed.

"Don't fall asleep, you insolent child!" Krory was yelling at him, spittle spewing from his lips as he shouted the words with desperation.

"Hold on, Lavi. Hold on," Miranda was chanting in whispers.

He heard their words and he listened, for it was all he could do. The weariness that overwhelmed him was so unnatural, so frightening. How could they fight devils, demons with their faces, when they held such strength and such a lethal capacity? His mind was evaluating the situation rapidly despite his weakened state. The outlook wasn't so bright.

"Hold on tightly to him!" Allen was dashing toward them. Finally the distance between them was disappearing again. "I'm going to pull it away from you."

Lavi could say nothing. He was a hapless victim to the circumstances.

On fleet feet, Allen dashed toward the struggling group with his eyes narrowed. The wounds already inflicted upon Lavi were dire, but nothing could be done about them at that point. Their only luck was to find a way out, and if that couldn't be done swiftly enough, Kanda would have to help. The young man was as stubborn as he always was. But Allen could only hope if the situation regressed instead of moving forward that he would offer to heal his companion.

Finally he reached them. He skidded to a halt just a foot away, his legs bent and his muscles tensed as he prepared himself for a struggle. The creature clawing wildly at Lavi had to be extracted from him. But its countenance, reflecting such a loving person, made Allen halt.

There was a weakness that lingered with him, a challenge that had to be conquered if the conflict occurring before his very eyes was to be resolved by force. He would have to disregard his inhibitions and doubts; he would have to trust deception in the simple act of believing it truly was only that. A knot was caught in his throat as he braced himself for this ordeal. His fists clenched, his body tensed and grew rigid as he prepared to launch himself forward to take the brunt of the attack for Lavi if needed. But someone had the idea floating through his mind as well and much more willingness to act. Perhaps it was the fact that they knew more than anyone else that the devil scratching at Lavi's legs and hips was nothing more than a mirrored image of sin.

From behind him Lenalee appeared. She was fleet on her long legs, delicate but quick footsteps carrying her almost gracefully over the surreal plane. Allen could only watch as she dashed forward to carry out the plan that he had been too cowardly to follow. It was with a deafening crack of skin hitting skin that Lenalee struck the visage of the figure. Her leg was bent, retracted, and readied for another attack as the demon finally relinquished its hold from its gasping prey.

With Miranda and Krory still pulling with all their might, Lavi was quickly removed from the scene. He gave a stunned gasp as the claws embedded in his skin finally retracted. The gouges left behind leaked that vital source of life in copious quantities, but in this predicament there was little to be done. He could evaluate himself. He could treat himself to a minor extent and perhaps stall his deterioration. But he was no doctor despite the vast extent of his knowledge on these matters. He could not perform miracles either. He knew the lethality of these new chess pieces as his flesh stung in protest to the wounds. As he was escorted away he gave a cry to Lenalee, "Don't confront it head on!"

He prayed the girl was listening. But in the end, his uncertainties remained, and judging by her stance they were not unfounded. She was no novice to this field of danger, nor was she ignorant enough to forget the potential damage any enemy could cause. Lenalee Lee was not impulsive. She was, however, fiercely stubborn. As Lavi's words carried themselves through the wind she watched the demon lift its head with a snapping motion. It was quick, sudden, and such a deranged way of movement. The method itself left a tremor running down her spine, but she shook it off. She would face herself. To her, the difference between them was startlingly clear. She saw the resemblance, but the aura was completely altered. Before her she saw nothing but a monster. Nothing more and nothing less. It was sinewy and towering, vicious and grotesque with its pallid skin and voided irises. To her, the cheeks sunk in, the lips curled into an inhuman grin, and lack of a soul prevented it from being anything remotely akin to her. Her enemy was no mirror image to her.

As it faced her, her courage dimmed like a flame drowned by water. But the reaction was quickly switched with ire as she heard Lavi's pained gasp. Her friend had been injured. A part of her world had been threatened ultimately, and such an act was unforgiveable. She gave a cry. The threatening howl reverberated around her as she launched herself at the being without one qualm to halt her. But it was quite the formidable foe. As she aimed to strike its head, it suddenly twisted. It mimicked her, bending down low and thrusting its leg up as she reached it, effectively knocking the air out of her lungs with force. It predicted her attack and countered it. Clearly this was no mindless devil. Another cry, another attempt. She didn't falter as she approached the being with a different method in mind. This time it couldn't avoid her as she let her foot press into its back. It gave a screech as it fell forward, but quickly it righted itself and whirled around. Now it was Lenalee's turn to be on the defensive. The creature took its turn and lashed at her with its talons. Her leg was thrust up, aiming for a chin. But those talons wrapped around her ankle. It was so sudden as the creature picked her up, lifting her into the air, and slammed her back down. Her stomach twisted and the contents nearly rose past her lips as her spine took the brunt of the attack. But the creature wasn't finished with her.

Its hold around her ankle remained. She writhed, but terror forced her to halt as something occurred. The creature's face was changing right before her eyes. It was so sudden, but the process was seen in fine detail. As it brought her closer the skin retracted. It was taut over the bone, appearing wrinkled and shriveled. The eyes gained such a crazed look as the smile spread and spread and spread. The lips were tearing at the edges. Skin split and rivulets of onyx blood trickled down its chin as its grin tore its own flesh. When the points nearly reached its ears, it opened its mouth. Its maw was a swirling vortex of darkness. The jaw lowered and lowered, opening up with such an inhuman capacity. It could have fit her fully into its mouth. And it appeared that was what it planned to do. She was thrust upward and tugged toward that gaping abyss circled by jagged canines. A shrill cry of protest escaped her lips as she kicked, but such efforts were futile.

What would she do?

Was this her end, with no escape possible on her own?

Ebony blood sprayed the stale air. Abruptly Lenalee was dropped to the ground as a 'thud' sounded below her. The creature was squealing madly as it drew back away from her and lifted its arms. One hand, covered with talons, touched its head. But the other was missing. Swiftly glancing around, Lenalee spotted the lost appendage upon the ground. The dark blood leaked onto the ground as the skin shriveled completely and faded into a black hue. The faint hum of blades slicing through the air reached her ears. To her right she looked, and there she saw the CROW Howard Link. He brandished his weapon, the serrated edges glistening with freshly spilled blood from the devil wailing over its destroyed body.

"Link? Oh thank goodness." She breathed in relief as she stood.

"It was better I step in before Walker did." The blonde explained as she turned to him with her "thank you" just on the very tip of her tongue. He wouldn't take her appreciation when he didn't desire it nor did he need it.

Alerted to her comrade's concern, Lenalee's gaze shifted until she found the head of white hair. His back was turned as he assisted Lavi in walking away from the scene of the crime, but within seconds he was gazing back at them. Concern shone in his eyes as she grabbed a hold of Link's wrist.

"What are you—"

"We have to go." She told him. Her grip was tight and insistent as she hurried forward. Link couldn't deny her when she was pulling him along as she was, and so he silenced himself and hurried after the girl with quick stumbles. Behind them, the creature released a horrific roar as they retreated.

"Hurry up, we need to get away from that thing." Kanda greeted them with his usual attitude. But the man was irked, and judging by his flickering gaze, he wasn't too pleased with the new arrivals. As the demon still wailed behind them, his eyes shifted to watch it with a wary gaze.

"Ease up, will you." Lavi spoke. Despite his injuries, his voice was rather level and strong. Krory held one arm and Allen held the other, having switched places with Miranda. They supported the young man as the brunette followed along, chocolate curls swaying with her movements. "They bought us some time just now, I bet."

"It doesn't mean a damn thing if we don't get out of here." Kanda asserted. He turned on the balls of his feet, following Link and Lenalee as they immersed themselves back into the group.

"He's right," Krory said. "We must keep going. We cannot be caught by those things once more."

"Then where are we supposed to go?" Lenalee questioned the group as a whole.

Not an answer could be given.

Not one of them dared to speak the words aloud, but they were there: they were stuck. They were hapless victims beneath Road's endless tyranny. Her game had turned lethal, and with the stakes higher there was less of a chance of them surviving. Kanda, Allen, Lenalee, Krory, and Lavi each knew the terrors the Noahs could provide, and each one was quite familiar with the pain and struggle of emerging from the battle victoriously.

Kanda grimaced, grunting at the thought of being helpless, even more bothered by being the hapless victim than the strained triumphing individual as he had been against Skinn Bolic.

Krory grit his teeth. The twin's, Jasdero and Devitt, laughs obnoxiously echoing within the confines of his mind, followed by the dripping venom in their words as the bonded Jasdevi.

Lenalee clenched her fists knowing fully well how deceptive Road and Tyki could be. She knew the extent of their brutality, recalling the duel ages ago where Road had ordered the akuma to self-destruct before Allen's very eyes.

Lavi knew Road's dreams more personally than any of them. He pushed away the resurfacing images of the moving corpses and that mirror image of himself. But he could recall the rocking boat, the image of himself sitting across from him, smirking, mocking him.

And Allen.

Certainly Allen knew the capabilities of his enemy nearly as well as anyone if not more. Worst of all, he knew victory was certainly not always the option when it came to the Noahs. His fingers twitched at his sides as he recalled the looming white moon that had lured him into darkness, into death. He had been touched by that dark embrace ages ago, having simply been caressed instead of claimed by its cold grasp.

But it was enough.

He wouldn't dare risk his comrades' lives for the damned Noah.

"We have to keep going," Allen asserted, determination setting in. His friends eyed him, sensing the sternness of his voice while observing the solidarity of his stance.

"And what the hell do you think that will do for us in the end, Moyashi?" questioned Kanda. His tone was just as firm, but within his words there was vehemence, a sharpness as lethal as Mugen's blade.

"It will get us somewhere. Road has to be leading us somewhere with this trick. A game is always present with her." He was so assured of his words. But when had this been proven wrong? Very seldom had an occasion occurred with the demon-like girl where she hadn't employed some game or another. She was a trickster in every aspect of the word, and they were each aware of this truth to some extent. Kanda didn't care for this alternative. But there was only so much he could say to combat it. For now, he decided to let things go.

"As much as I'd like to keep running, I kinda sorta have to stop this bloodletting." Lavi announced to the group with a languid sigh. He gave a nonchalant shrug, but somehow even that simple action provoked a hiss of pain. "Or, you know. I can wait."

The group slowed. Though they all had been aware of Lavi's condition, the strain of the situation hadn't connected their thoughts correctly in that moment. As they stopped to give the young man a rest, Link peered behind them. Trailing behind them were specks and splatters of Lavi's draining life source. They certainly couldn't waste too much time before caring for him. The CROW eyed the boy who had given Walker the ability to heal not too much longer ago, but already Kanda was expecting this. He met Link's gaze immediately. If eyes could kill, surely Kanda Yuu would have sliced him from his forehead to his groin right in that moment. Stealing some of the man's blood would certainly not be an option this time.

"What can we do for you Lavi?" Miranda was asking the young man. Her eyes glistened with worry. Concern practically emanated from her in crashing waves that could have drowned Lavi.

"I need to make a tourniquet." He answered. He scrunched his nose, eyes narrowing as he focused his attention upon the lacerations lining his leg, side, and hips. This certainly wouldn't be an easy task for him. "Anyone have a tough fabric?"

He looked about the group, waiting for an answer. No one had a spare piece of fabric, but as soon as the realization was met, a ripping sound surfaced. Fabric was torn, and in just seconds Allen handed Lavi a piece of fabric torn from his very clothing. The gentleman, whether fake or not, wouldn't allow his comrade to suffer this pain without any assistance in bringing it to an end. He handed the fabric over to Lavi and watched at the young man blinked his single emerald eye before glancing wordlessly back to his injuries. Lavi was modest, but he would accept the help when it was needed.

"How long will a tourniquet help you?" Miranda questioned as the group watched Lavi. The young man was quick, his fingers nimble. He took the long piece of cloth and quickly created the tourniquet he required. It would only stop the blood flow to his legs, but luckily those were the deepest gashes of the bunch. They could still be tended to.

"Can't say for sure." The red head answered. He narrowed his eyes and slightly stuck out his tongue as he tied the knot as tight as possible. Requiring another cloth, he took to tearing his own clothing instead of resorting to taking anymore of Allen's. With the new piece of fabric, he covered the gaping wounds as an extra measure of precaution. "We have to get out of here quick."

"Moyashi suggested we keep running." Kanda reminded them with a tone. He obviously still felt displease with the idea.

"Is that really the best idea?" Krory questioned. His gaze turned to Allen, who had proposed the idea, as Kanda had said.

"She will follow." Allen said to his small group as they looked to him for answers. He was no leader, but he attempted to guide them. But surely he would butt heads with Kanda. And surely Link would suggest his view of the situation. Lavi would evaluate it, Lenalee would judge it, Miranda would worry about it, and Krory would consider it. He was not completely alone in deciding their decisions.

"Is that what we really want though?" Link voiced. He held his chin in a manner that suggested he was truly thinking over the matter in depth.

"Maybe that is what we want." Lenalee said in a murmur, her head bowed as she, too, considered the matter carefully as the group discussed it together. Her comrades looked to her questioningly as she voiced her opinion. Surely there was a sensible reason behind it. "We want her to follow."

"And why is that?" Kanda questioned with a small snort of indignation.

"Because it's a game." Lavi spoke the answer before Lenalee even could. He understood the girl's train of thought and immediately came to aide her in explaining the details to their comrades. "She wants us to play along."

"So we shouldn't confront her then?" Miranda asked, attempting to summarize the new route of the conversation.

"Yes." Allen answered as well. He understood now, he saw. And Lavi and Lenalee both had the best possible idea.

"We better hurry. This land may not last much longer." Link said to them all. Eyes turned to him, but the man's gaze was elsewhere. He looked to the sky with furrowed brows and lips that turned downward into what seemed like a permanent frown.

They couldn't resist looking for the scene that provoked such a look from the man. They raised their eyes to the sky, and there they saw the change beginning to take place in the false world around them. Once more another mirage of the trickster was crumbling and decaying. The white that was left in the sky was being sucked upwards into the darkness above. Onyx dominated the sky, and the trees shriveled completely unlike before. The vegetation grew thin and frail. The hydration was removed, and the thin stems and thick bark all wrinkled and receded as the leaves and flowers fell, petal by petal, to the ground. The leaves and petals spiraled down from the canopy of vegetation above only to land upon the ground. And it was there that smoke rose in thin spirals. And it was there that the ground hissed and swallowed up the precious and frail pieces with bubbling soil somehow acting as a liquid.

Below them the ground did not hiss. Instead it shook, and with a great roar the soil below grew brittle and tough, cracking this place and that when the strain below them became too much. They rocked from side to side as the world shook and grappled at one another in attempts to steady themselves. But it was hardly needed. As soon as the shaking began, it stopped.

"What is that brat doing now?" Shouted Kanda. His voice alone suggested he was the end of his patience. He couldn't stand waiting, watching for a loophole in this puzzle just so they could escape from it all.

"She's changing something about here, I'd say. If I had to guess." Lavi gave a shrug and looked about. He was attempting to get a good look at the scenery as the grass was sucked into the ground at a slow pace only to reveal the hard ground.

"But why?" Allen questioned allowed as he looked to the red head.

"It was no longer fun."

The answer only served to make Allen clench his fists. Surely Road was cruel. But he couldn't stand the stagnation they found themselves in when faced with this brutality. She played with them as if they were pawns upon the chessboard, and she was the only player that was able to make a move. The game was hardly fair in any aspect. But Road had never been one for fair games to begin with.

"Then how about we make this fun?" questioned Lenalee with a tilt to her head. Her gaze was inquisitive, her lips bending a certain way at the edges to suggest the question was still being worked out. The group looked to her, then slowly to one another in slow succession.

"Why would we want to do that?" inquired Miranda with a hesitant tone. She was wringing her fingers as she glanced toward the only other female companion in their group. Her nerves were shot, even more so than the rest of the group endured separately. "Wouldn't that attract her attention?"

"Exactly." Lavi said with an enthusiastic nod of his head. "Remember, Miranda? We want to grab her attention. This is all a game, so we have to keep playing to win, ne? Even if it does mean the original plan is a bust." The red head laid out his reasoning completely for the frazzled older woman. It was apparent that she was struggling, stumbling to keep up with the rest of them physically and mentally. Sensing her distress, Allen set a hand upon the woman's shoulder only to provoke an impulsive flinch on her part. In return, Allen only offered a kind smile.

"Don't worry, Miranda," he said carefully. "We will make it out of here. All of us."

"How can you be so sure?" Miranda questioned in response, her eyes glistening in spite of her efforts to remain calm.

"It's alright." Lenalee was speaking this time to the woman. "We're all sticking together, aren't we? That gives us some type of advantage, wouldn't you say, Lavi?" Her gaze flicked toward the young male.

"It means something alright." The man answered. Sensing the underlining meaning, Allen jabbed his elbow into the man's gut. "I-te!" The young man gasped, stuttering.

"What the obnoxious child meant to say was that we have power in numbers, even if it is not much." Krory explained, lending his own experience and words to the consolation of the teammate. His words meant something or another to the young woman in the end. Her eyes closed tightly before she gave a quick nod of her head.

"I understand."

"The theatrics are very considerate, but we have matters that need to be attended to." Ever the voice of reason, Link interrupted the moment to bring the attention back to the current problem at hand. He stood at the edges of the group as Kanda did, but unlike the young man, his gaze was on his charge. He had work to do and no time to spare. Not to mention being directed by the whims of a pixie-like girl did nothing to humor him or elate him. All in all, it was quite the unpleasant experience to be dragged into all of this.

"He's right." Krory said, to which Lavi nodded with a slight wince to his gesture. It seemed Allen's jab had hit a sore spot somewhere.

"Then let's get her attention." Lenalee said after having finally brought Miranda to a sounder state. She stood beside the other female as she spoke, her hand placed encouragingly upon her shoulder to support her.

"How do we do that?" Miranda questioned as contribution.

"Moyashi."

Kanda's voice came from the edge of the group, clear, concise, and rather annoying for the young boy he mentioned.

"Allen," said boy enunciated the word pointedly before continuing, "What are you suggesting now?"

The long haired man gave an impatient snort before turning to face the other. His eyes were sharp, though that was nothing new to Allen. He had met the man's hard gaze many times in and out of their little quarrels. "You do something to grab her attention. She likes you the best, so why not feed into that?"

"That's true." Lenalee said somewhere to Allen's right.

"She did kiss him." Lavi muttered in agreement somewhere behind him.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing." Lavi smiled as he dodged the question that immediately shot out of Link's mouth.

Allen couldn't deny this certainty. Road did like him, though it appeared to be a feral relationship more than anything else in Allen's eyes. "It could work. But what do you expect me to do to attract her attention?" Allen questioned the group.

"I could never forget you, Allen. There's no need to call me out, I've always been right here."

The voice came from the sky above that was still stained with such a horrid darkness. By now they were hardly surprised by Road's sudden appearances, but still a shocked silence ran amuck between them all as they looked about. The young girl could be anywhere by this point, but as they looked this way and that they didn't spot her. Only the dying foliage surrounded them in this dark, dying world.

"Road."

"Hasn't this been so fun?" A laugh sounded from the sky. "I never knew exorcists could be so much fun."

"That's enough, Road! It's time you give us the conditions of this game so we can play it." Lenalee shouted to the sky.

"Damn right. What's the point of a game if you can't actively play with someone?" Lavi said.

Silence was returned. For a moment there was no response, and then a soft sigh sounded. An imaginary wind blew through the clearing, her breath. It breezed past them all as they waited to hear some sort of reply.

"There aren't any rules to this." Road finally said in response. Before the group could voice their displeasure at such a vague response, the girl continued her explanation from above them. "Survive. Yes, that's the only rule: survive. If you can do that much, then you win."

"That's not fair." Declared Miranda in response.

"This isn't anything like the game you played with me, Road. Come on. I know you can do better than that." Lavi taunted.

"Have you forgotten your place in this fight, Bookman Junior?" The familiar nickname echoed around them with an ominous sound.

"You never knew my true place in this world." announced Lavi with a sly grin upon his face. He appeared confident and sure, but something about his gestures, his manner of speaking, made Allen doubt it. The man was calculating things. He was taunting her in hopes of bringing about a reaction that could help them, somehow. But, in realizing this, fear arose and tightened Allen's chest. Road could harm him easily if provoked enough. She'd done it for simple fun before. She wouldn't hesitate to do it to put the young redhead into line. Allen's lips parted. He had to stop Lavi.

"Sorry, Allen."

Pain. It blossomed with a scalding heat from the very back of his skull as something struck him from behind. What, he couldn't be sure at this point. His eyesight was wavering and blurring, darkened dots appearing to cloud his vision and distort it. He was stumbling over the words he had originally been hoping to use before Road's voice sounded and this peculiarity occurred.

He tried to turn.

His body was actually twisting to complete the action as his gaze shifted to the edges of his vision. He wanted to see his attacker, and soon he did. There behind him was the monster, but it was not Lavi or Lenalee staring back at him with such a demonic gaze as they had before. A new mirage had arrived upon the scene to distort reality and bring a new mayhem to their every second spent conscious. The brown curls that appeared delicate and smooth appeared like an unruly mane upon this figure. The chocolate brown eyes were as dull as the dead soil beneath their feet. The countenance, familiar yet twisted, was a visage he knew immediately as Miranda. But it hadn't been his comrade who struck him down.

"Allen!" The shout sounded in front of his body, but his gaze was still turned in the other direction. It was Lenalee calling out for him in alarm. He knew the voice, though he could not see her figure. He willed his body to turn. His thoughts raced, and he begged his body to move no matter what the cost may be. But he had no control in this new world. There was no Crown Clown to assist him either. His body was falling. Everything occurred in slow motion it seemed, but he could tell he was falling forward from the impact of the attack.

In a matter of seconds his body collapsed upon the ground limply. His limbs burned with his resolve, but his mind had yet to use the surging energy to actually lift him up. He could only stare out across the plane, his vision hindered by his position. Though he could not see what was occurring suddenly, he could hear it instead. A battle had erupted the moment he collapsed upon the ground.

He could hear Lenalee giving a cry akin to those she had uttered once before in battle. Allen had no doubts that the girl was utilizing the strength she carried to fight an enemy he couldn't discern just yet.

His guesses were accurate, even as he lay helplessly upon the ground. A battle had ensued behind him, and every one of his comrades was faced with a mirage quite similar to themselves. Lenalee was upon her feet, dancing a lethal dance that sent her body swaying and her opponent howling. The mirror image swiped at her with long talons, aiming for her cheeks and lavender eyes, but the demon's intent was never made into a reality. Lenalee's leg struck the creature's chin before it could move another step closer.

As the demon cried, it was echoed by Krory as he voiced his rage. His fists struck the air each time as he narrowly missed the vampire that shifted its feet and then lunged forward with canines ready to rip into his flesh. It struck. A great cry was given, but Krory was able to dislodge the creature from his arm before it could snap the flesh right off. He stumbled back but regained his footing just in time. He lowered himself, howled out his frustration, and assaulted the creature with a barrage of attacks.

The creature stumbled, in the process nearly bumping into the stoic character that stalked the monster that mocked him. The serrated blades glinted under imaginary sunlight, catching the eyes of the creature that followed Link like a shadow given eyes, a mouth, and color. He was the only individual in the group with a weapon that could be utilized in the strange world Road had dragged them into. He utilized it—he would have been an idiot if he hadn't—and swiftly dodged the being's next lunge before turning to drag the blade into its side. Ebony blood leaked from the wound, even sprayed from it in a dramatic display that seemed to defy reality even more than the current situation did.

Into the puddle of darkness stepped Kanda, his teeth clenched and a single strand of hair falling from his ponytail. His immaculate appearance was smeared just this once, but he paid no attention to it as he held the mirror of himself at bay. The demon, to him, didn't copy his features accurately. Something was missing. But if the devil lacked his looks then it certainly had acquired his knowledge. Like Kanda, the being was light on his feet. He wasn't an easy target to be damaged just as Kanda wasn't. Decisiveness was key. Kanda prided himself in having an upper hand over the mindless creature, knowing with certainty that he could out-maneuver it if he simply paid attention. So pay attention, he did. He watched the movements of the animalistic creature before him and acted, not with impulse, but with purpose. Without the power of God's Crystal to charge his Mugen, he was left to hand-to-hand combat. Though not his favored form of combat, it was doable. He bent, twisting, and lunged out of the way to avoid a hand of elongated talons that swiped through the air audibly. He didn't stumble. But the creature did. It was almost unperceivable. It only quivered, never truly losing its balance or moving forward unintentionally. But Kanda could see it. He struck a blow to the back of the creature's skull and watched as it crashed to the decayed ground below. The scream that ripped through the air almost startled him; he almost believed it was the creature. But it was feminine, shrill, and coming from behind him. He didn't have time to look and perceive the danger another acquaintance was facing. The demon was rising again. And to the defense Kanda rose once more.

The scream reverberated, but the others could not help her. Miranda was not one for direct combat. Admittedly, admission to the Order had required a training session or two in martial arts, some led by very profound exorcists, like Lavi himself—who claimed to have quite an expansive knowledge on different fighting forms due to his experience as Bookman's apprentice. She had practiced. She had learned. She had utilized it once or twice, though not quite in the manner it was suited for. But this, this was another level of aggression that she couldn't face with quivering limbs and a frail confidence. Instead she switched to the defensive, but even in such a mode she wasn't faring well. She dashed to the side, narrowly missing sharp teeth that protruded from grimacing lips like her own. The frustrated growl that rose from the monster was enough to make her lip tremble with barely contained fear. Akuma, demons, trapped souls according to Allen's cursed eye. These were not the usual opponent but something else, something more inherently evil with no soul to possess. They were not the chained remnants of late loved ones. They were figments of a dangerous imagination; an imagination could damn well kill them if they weren't cautious enough.

As Miranda avoided another blow just barely, she looked about for a savior. Kanda was nearest to her, his back turned and his feet moving quickly across the dead foliage below. He was facing himself as each of them were. But he held no hesitation, and he spared no glance at any of their comrades. Krory was occupied, as was Link, as was Lenalee. And there was poor Allen, body still collapsed upon the ground without showing any signs of movement just yet aside from a twitch of the hand. But Lavi, where was Lavi? Her eyes scanned the vast plane that their battles occurred upon. She saw her comrades, those previously mentioned, and she saw the demons and the background of this fantasy world. But the red head was nowhere to be found in that moment. Her heart beat to a rapid pace that spoke of fear and panic. There was no savior for her.

She had to save herself—she turned—or else—she raised her fists—she wouldn't survive the fight.

Teeth dragged along her forearm as she raised it to protect herself. But the material specially made for the exorcists wasn't even enough to ward off the attacks of the demon. The teeth dug into her flesh and allowed a fresh rivulet of crimson to cascade down the limb effortlessly. A cry was given, but she acted, thrusting her leg out so that her foot caught the demon right in the gut. It sailed back, but only so far. It wouldn't be stalled for long. The attack that followed was much harsher. Miranda was sure from the very beginning that she wouldn't make it through. She was grasped, thrown about, up and down, and hit from the left and the right. The beating was enough to make her delirious. Heavy with the strain, with the pain, the woman fell to her knees when the devil finally ceased its attack for just one moment. As her eyes closed with exhaustion, the creature prepared to launch another attack, its final one. Just faintly through her lashes she could see it raise its talons to lash at her throat. She was prepared to move, but it was much too quick. It would reach her before she could avoid the attack.

Abruptly there was movement before her. She couldn't make out the blur, not until the event was already over. The creature was staggering away with malicious satisfaction. From its talons dripped a substance: blood. But it was not ebony, not of the demons. Its scarlet hue glinted in the fake sunlight and sent her heart pounding away in her chest. Then the groan sounded from in front of her. How she hadn't noticed the slight pressure at her shoulders, she didn't know. Two hands gripped her firmly in order to keep her in place. The white head of hair before her was recognizable, as was the scar that traced over an eye, cheekbone, and part of the jaw.

"Allen!" she gasped as she watched his eyes roll toward the back of his skull. He wavered, nearly falling forward into her body.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner." He said to her with regret coloring each of his softly uttered words. The injury was a hard one to sustain if his reaction was anything to go off of, but it shouldn't be fatal.

But it was like Allen to sacrifice his flesh for the sake of others.

The situation imitated another that seemed to occur so long ago. She recalled the spinning hands of a clock, the mystical world almost similar to their current surroundings yet more fictional. She recalled a fear so akin to this one, and a selfless boy who threw himself before an attack that would have cost her life. This was not the first time that Allen Walker had saved her. This was not the first time that Road had cornered her before. And it was much to Miranda's dismay that she realized the pictures were too similar for her liking. Once more she was too weak to defend herself. She had not gained strength in her time as an exorcist as she had desired to. Or perhaps she was letting herself be restrained this time. As Miranda clutched the younger exorcist's shoulders, she swallowed down the tears that had erupted from her effortlessly. No tears, not this time. She saw the demon rounding on them immediately after its attack. It was prepared to return, and it was prepared to take the two of them out if given the opportunity.

She had her realization.

The demon launched itself at them.

"Allen!" she shouted to her comrade as she released him. Her limbs quaked with her nerves, but she had no time to stall. The seconds were ticking down before impact. "Get down!"

Allen didn't understand the sudden burst of action that came from Miranda. However, as the woman rose to her feet he didn't dare question it. She wanted him to trust her to do the right thing (whatever that happened to be at that moment), and he would. Without any further questions, he ducked down as he was directed to. And it was then that Miranda finally sprang into action.

The devil approached just on cue. From below Allen watched in the split second before the attack, attentively observing the sudden changes before him. Miranda acted, swiftly at that, and surprisingly it was effective. It was evident that the young woman had taken a lesson or two from Lenalee during the spare and sparse moments that the exorcists hadn't been working since their return from Edo. Allen could see Lenalee's influence as the older woman lowered her upper half while simultaneously lifting her back legs. She pushed herself upward, and it was then that the collision occurred.

Slam!

Miranda's boots slammed right into the skull of her own mirror image. Allen could hardly believe the scene before his eyes as the devil was forced back with a strong kick to its skull. Brown curls shook with the force, and the mouth pulled in either direction in a horrific grimace. The image garnered some damage from the attack. It stumbled back with a great howl of pain as Miranda unsteadily landed upon her feet. Her eyes were wide just as Allen's were. It seemed Miranda was just as stunned by her own abilities as Allen was as he looked on from the sidelines.

"Miranda, you…"

"A-Allen… I'm so sorry, I had to do something." She stammered uncertainly as she approached the white haired young male. She almost seemed embarrassed by her sudden eruption of purposeful violence.

"No, no." he muttered, still momentarily stunned by her actions. He wanted to assure her that it was all warranted, as surprising it was. "Thank you for helping me, Miranda."

Her face flushed with color before she hurriedly offered her hand to the young man below her. "I couldn't leave you to defend me, Allen. It's about time that I do something." She continued to stammer as Allen took her hand and grasped it tightly and quickly. It wouldn't be long before that thing was charging back at them. Up he went, and he grunted as he felt the muscles being pulled and strained in his back. Instantly Miranda was concerned.

"Allen?"

He wanted to answer, and he was quite sure that he had opened his mouth in order to do so. But another interruption served to disrupt a simple conversation between comrades. The ground rumbled, and just like that the world was falling once more.

Chaos erupted around him once more. The trend kept repeating itself, and he could never stop it. His comrades were releasing pained exhales, screams, strained sounds like grunts and groans. The others were still distant. But Miranda was so close, and her cry was as clear as could be. He heard the shrill sound just before his chin smacked off of the ground. The crusted, solid surface had him feeling like his brain was being knocked around in his skull. He could have sworn Grave of Maria was using Carte Garde as he fell to the ground without seeing a cause for it. At first, of course.

Before the perpetrator was revealed, Allen found the source of Miranda's screams. The demon had grabbed a hold of her in the time that he had fallen to the ground. It had pulled her to the ground just as Allen had been, and the woman was furiously trying to utilize her previously acquired skill to knock the thing off of her. But all efforts were futile.

"Miranda!" Out went his hand. Allen reached for the woman, stretching with all his might with the simple hope the he could hold onto her. But even that small wish would not be granted.

Gravel and crusty dirt was kicked up in front of Allen's face. Pain blossomed and extended through the length of his body as he was rolled onto his back, and his fresh wound was christened with a slathering of dirt. The hard ground hit the back of his head each time he was pulled over a bump. His head was spinning, but his heart was pounding even more so. He had to leave this. He couldn't be confined, couldn't be dragged about while his comrades were being strained to their very limit. Before even attempting to peek at his captor, Allen tipped back his head as far as he could just to get a glimpse of the scene he was being forced to leave behind. He could view the hell that was following his departure.

They were losing. That much was obvious as he watched from afar in the split second he decided to look back. It was only a glimpse, but it was all he needed to engrain the image into his brain.

They were being swallowed whole.

The shock of the view was enough to leave Allen dumbfounded and limp with his conflictions. But it wasn't enough to stop his terrified cries as his mind processed what he was seeing even before he fully realized it himself. But he could see the scene, clear as day, without any hindrances.

Miranda was the first one to go. The demon had dragged her to the ground, and now the thing was perched over top of her and pinning her to the ground. Its maw was finally open and revealing the glaring white teeth that had continuously threatened to tear their bodies in half. Their comrades had noticed by this stage. Each one spared a glance, sometimes at once, sometimes separately. But what were they to do? Each one was occupied, and even Lenalee's selfless attempt to turn and run to the woman's side was thwarted. In the end she acquired a slash to the side for her efforts. It couldn't be stopped. It couldn't be. And so Miranda's terrified comrades watched as the creature stretched and stretched its mouth until it was impossibly wide. And while the woman screamed, it took her into that swirling darkness.

It took one swallow. The creature didn't sink its teeth into the woman, much to their surprise. But instead it took her into its mouth in one complete motion and then swallowed effortlessly, as if it was nothing. To the devil, it likely was.

Cries erupted from Lenalee, pitiful screams that echoed her tortured state. Nothing more bothered the girl than being helpless when it came to aiding her friends. Terror was shining in her eyes as the others echoed her pain with shock and fear. Even Kanda displayed something akin to dreaded surprise as he viewed the end of the scene that had occurred right before their eyes. Their female comrade's scream echoed around them. The mournful cry elicited memories from Allen's mind, bringing back a memory that had spoken to him once before, that had greeted him in his time of need. It came again to capture his heart, to make it beat with an empathetic pain.

A dark room, a lone night long ago when the moon shone above and his eye radiated an ungodly pain. A night where snacking couldn't keep him up but instead a furious aching did, never daring to leave him behind. A creak of the stairs, a faint shadow dancing across the wall as a light was introduced to the sullen environment. And then a small figure that Allen recognized with fond familiarity in the dark of the night.

When you close your eyes and think of the world, what do you see?

Allen recalled her words…

To me, the world isn't just shapes on a map… I'm an awful person, aren't I? Instead of the real world, all I see are my friends.

He understood her pain…

That's because they are my world.

And he knew he was just as selfish.

He knew this was torture for his comrade, each one of them. But their devastation was cut short, if only for the moment. The battle was ensuing. The remaining demons were turning on the others, prepared to devour them fully too.

"Everyone!" he gasped out as he writhed in his captor's grasp. He couldn't reach his friends; he couldn't remove himself from this powerful grasp that dragged him along without making a sound. He watched from afar, viewing the scene as Kanda lifted his head after narrowly dodging an onslaught.

"Moyashi!" he heard the older male gasp loudly under his breath with ire. His brows were furrowed with exasperation, frustration, as their situation became even more hopeless. Divided, they were at a disadvantage. But even together they weren't faring so well. This was only dividing the odds even more, pitting more factors against each and every one of them. "Fight, dammit! I'll never forgive you if you don't, cursed brat!" he snarled.

The man did it all on purpose. Instigating was his way of getting Allen to move, and Allen did, albeit with agitation. He twisted around. Finally he moved about, turning and writhing until he could finally lift his body and his gaze enough to view the person who dragged him along without his consent, away from the battle and away from his friends.

What initially caught his eye was not quite a person. Rather, it was the figure of one. Only a silhouette was clear to him upon first looking at his captor, an outline of white against a backdrop of glittering onyx. It was only an impression that he could judge at first. Before him were slim limbs, a lithe form, but little more than such a form and the unruly outline of falling tresses.

He stared.

This was his opponent? A faceless figure that still held the capability to drag him around? Where was the demon he was to face, the creature that copied him as the devils behind him did with his comrades? He grit his teeth at the thought of them. Concern had him looking back, twisting his neck just to catch a glimpse once more. But the rattle of chains drew his attention, as did a voice.

"Dame" [1]

No.

Furiously he looked to the figure that had captured him, the voice letting fright settle into the very marrow of his bones. But what his gaze caught gave him a moment of pause, a moment of trepidation. The silhouette was gone. Finally a clear figure was shown to him, but it was no more helpful than the outline had been before it. The lithe figure was still the same in stature and size. What was different were the details, or rather the acquirement of details since he last gazed at the stranger.

He was dressed in all white like the famed pierrot. But the attire itself did not consist of the frilled cloth and exaggerated details that Allen was familiar with due to his time with the lovable clown of his past. It was white, but it was nothing less than somber and plain if he had the choice of describing it. It was a simple suit of ivory color. Fitted to the form, it was simple but elegant enough in the manner that the figure wore it. The coat of the piece featured an extended tail of fabric. It fell down to his calves and then was cut short. Tattered, ragged, the material featured holes and tears in random locations. Despite its frayed state, the clothing itself was still its original pure white, it seemed. Dirt hadn't tarnished the color, and the ivory hue wasn't disturbed in the trousers, the coat, or the dangling tie around the neck. Only the bursts of red color interrupted the slate of pale white. It was the features of the mask the stranger wore. The twisted smile and vibrantly painted eyes were displayed upon a canvas of white, covering the face while a head of dark hair lay behind it. Comical, though the figure itself was not dressed as a clown, the mask portrayed him as such with a falsified, exaggerated smile.

As Allen stared he heard it again: the heavy clinking of chains. How had he not noticed it until now? The clown was not acting on its own entirely it seemed. A thick, rusting chain encircled the being's neck. It was pulled tight, like a collar of steel to enforce someone else's will. The chain pulled him forward, and the clown stumbled along as it was directed. Two more links of metal trailed from his wrists, pulled forward into the darkness, the ends unperceivable. The clown wasn't acting upon its own whim, Allen realized. It was being dragged along a path it hadn't created, unable to diverge, unable to take a step back. But who in the world was this clown?

Did it really matter? The screams behind him erupted once more, but slowly it was beginning to quiet down.

"Let go!" Allen yelled as he bent forward, attempting to reach for the clown's hands. But it was much too far still. He twisted, writhing, hoping to wiggle out of the grasp around his ankle. But it didn't relent no matter how much he attempted to free himself. But as he twisted, he was at least afforded a glimpse of the predicament behind him. Miranda had disappeared long ago. But now even Krory and Link were gone. Lavi had disappeared long ago, and Allen was trapped, which left Kanda and Lenalee to struggle alone. With the others gone, their chances were even lower. The demons surrounded them, circled them. All Allen could think to do was scream at them. But even that wouldn't stop the scene from unfolding before him. The two fought with all their might, but in the end it simply wasn't enough. He watched with painful clarity as Kanda was grabbed by his shoulders by one demon, Lenalee restrained and held back by another. Though it wasn't their own monsters that grabbed them, it was their mirror images who approached them with gaping jaws. They opened wide to devour the remaining two as they had with all of the others.

And like that it was over.

All Allen could do was shout in frustration and in dismay and terror as he watched his friends being picked off one by one until they each disappeared. Kanda was dragged into the darkness of the opened mouth with a grunt and a shout. His face showed momentary terror, something Allen would have never dreamed of seeing in real life. It was there a second, then gone, much like Kanda himself in his predicament. The demon swallowed him right up as Lenalee wailed brokenly from the side.

It can't be.

Each of them are disappearing.

Allen reached out with his trembling fingers as pain ripped through his spine. The dragging had finally stopped, leaving him far away from his last remaining friend. But the creature had lifted him up only to slam him back down again. Gasping, Allen could feel the moisture on his back. Blood was leaking from the wounds at a startling rate. But at this pace, what would it matter? His friends were gone. Was he not headed for the same direction now no matter how much he fought?

But…

I have to save my friends.

I have to keep walking!

A desire to continue bloomed inside of him. He felt the ache of his limbs, the sting of his wounds, the constriction of his chest as Lenalee—the last of them all—released a scream. He wanted to move. He willed his body to, and it obeyed. No longer being dragged about, he lifted himself, twisted, and launched his foot toward the clown. He expected a quick reaction. Something of the sort at the very least. But all that was given was defeat—the creature fell. This was his chance.

Lenalee was screaming as he rose to his feet. The girl could do little more as she was hauled into the air like perfect bait, which she was in all actuality by that point. There was no Dark Boots to save her. There were no comrades to defend her, nor to encourage her to continue to fight. It was her and Allen. Nothing more.

"Allen!"

"Lenalee!"

Gazes met.

Hands reached out.

But they were not to be saviors for one another.

It all happened at once. The mirror image of Lenalee grabbed onto her and dragged her forward in the same instance that the clown finally grabbed a hold of Allen. Both captured, both screaming, they fought with all of their might not to meet the same fate as their comrades. Lavender eyes misted over with tears. Silver glistened, a monochromatic mirror that reflected her terror and helplessness. Fates the same, but paths diverged, they let their fingers continue to reach for something they would never take hold of: each other.

Lenalee was sucked into darkness. Her figure disappeared, cries escaping along with her into the abyss of darkness that had threatened her from the very beginning. Like their comrades, she disappeared. The clearing was silent aside from Allen's panting breath. His eyes were wide with shock, his fingers shaking and then clenching in the air before him. The clown was pulling at him. Arms around the young boy, the chains found a way to twist around him too. Cold metal, rustic and harsh against his skin, dragged along the flesh that was exposed. It tightened around them both. The chain wrapped around him fully, around his arms, his legs, his shoulders. At his neck the links dug into his skin as they tightened. And he was choking. His throat constricted by force and his chest seized with the sudden lack of air being filtered into his body. Suffocation, he knew this pain quite well, though he had hoped to never feel it again [2]. But in this world he held no power. That included the power to save himself. His face flushed with color as his lungs strained to take in air. Lips opened, closed, and then opened again in a desperate attempt to take something in even in miniscule amounts. But there was no such luck available for him. His vision was dimming and swirling. At first it was with color. Then in black in white. Then… Nothing at all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Lenalee!"

Arm outstretched, Allen blinked open his eyes to brightness.

He rapidly fluttered his lashes as the brightness settled around him, eventually fading to show him a scenery he recognized much too clearly. There he sat upon a bench, the form of the furniture identical to those in the Order's dining hall. He could feel the hard surface below him, smell the food wafting through the hall, and see all the curious faces peering at him inquisitively.

Allen stared with shock at all the familiar faces that stared at him, for the most part, with concern. There was Johnny Gill, glasses glinting and fists clenched with his anxiety. Reever, too, was there. He looked over a shoulder, the shoulder of a figure that stood staring right down at Allen from above.

"Komui?" he uttered in shock.

"Allen? So you are awake." The man offered a gentle smile for the young exorcist. "We were worried that you wouldn't wake up."

"Wake up…?" Allen's words trailed off in confusion. Then, so suddenly, the realization slammed through the grogginess he was feeling. Road, his comrades, the horrid manner in which they had each been separated. "Where is everyone? Are they alright?" he shouted as he twisted this way and that, searching for them with his eyes opened wide. In the quick passage his eyes took around the room, he saw none of them.

"Easy, Allen." Reever said as he placed a hand upon the boy's shoulder. He pressed gently, urging him to take a moment to calm down before jumping right to his fight as he often did in such situations. "Just take a deep breath."

Allen's brows furrowed, though he did as he was told. He took a great, heaving breath. But his eyes still glanced this way and that. He couldn't give up looking for the others so quickly. Not after such an ordeal. Upon looking around, that was when he saw the sweetest sign: a head of red hair from behind held up by a bandana, and a tie for an eye patch with it all.

"Lavi!" the boy shouted out in joy.

Never had Allen felt better than when the figure turned. One sharp green eye met his, familiar with its keen manner of scanning all that was around it. There was Lavi. He hadn't seen the man since the incident, and the man had disappeared with no trace then. Now he was here, injured, but apparently healthy enough to be standing on his own with little more than a grimace upon his face.

"Allen? You made it out?" the red head seemed just as surprised. He hurried forward—and thus displayed the limp in his leg as he walked; apparently he was scathed worse than Allen had initially believed—until he met Allen's side. Komui moved just a bit to the side to allow the two young men to reacquaint themselves. "What happened to you?" he said, observing the patches of red on the bench below as Allen sat himself up.

The white haired boy blinked his eyes before glancing down to view the stain he was creating. Fresh blood. It was still leaking from the wound on his back, but the injury was suspiciously numb to him now. Allen wasn't sure if such a sign was a blessing or a warning of future agony. "I was attacked by…" he paused, unsure of how to continue, "by one of those monsters."

"Heh. You too?" the red head said with a pained smirk. He obviously wasn't pleased to find himself in his condition, and he wasn't very happy with finding out that Allen was experiencing the same problem either. Neither one was particularly thrilled by the wounds they had endured at Road's hands, or rather by her demons' hands.

Allen observed the older male, but it was then that he realized no other figure had come to approach him, nor had he seen anyone else. Lenalee was gone, as was Kanda, Miranda, Krory, and even Link. Yet not a soul in the dining hall seemed to be alarmed by that fact.

"Lavi, where are all the others?" he questioned suddenly. He had sat himself up, and now he ignored the stares of the others so he could simply find the single eye of his only remaining comrade.

"Gone."

The answer came swiftly in return. Lavi regarded the younger boy with a hard stare, his expression perturbed. He seemed discomforted by something. Allen could only guess that it was the lack of their comrades' appearance. But that thought provoked an itch beneath his skin. Was it perhaps something more?

"What do you mean gone, Lavi?" the young exorcist questioned as he clenched his fists. The images in the dream world played out in his mind once more: Lenalee being consumed, Kanda being dragged into darkness, Miranda's screaming, Link's struggle, Krory's strain. Each picture, so clear in his mind, made his heart pound just a bit faster inside of his chest.

The red head averted his eyes. Sighing, he bent and brought his face closer to Allen's so he could speak in a hushed tone. "They aren't here, Allen. It's the Order, everyone is here… But them." The young man explained to him slowly.

Allen's brows knitted together as he looked around him. His eyes met Komui's, and he was prepared to ask his questions, but it was then that Bookman interrupted them.

"Childish brat." The elder said as he delivered a harsh smack to the back of his pupil's head. "What are you doing attempting to scare someone who's just woken with such injuries?" After he had chastised the boy he let another hit land upon the boy's head, an extra punishment it seemed.

"Damn you, jiji!" Lavi was rubbing at the back of his skull as he took a step away from Allen to regard the older man with narrowed eyes. To Allen, Lavi looked startlingly feral. Never had he seen the boy gaze at his caretaker and teacher in such a way.

"Enough, enough." Reever was saying as he shook his head in a disapproving manner. The Australian man looked exasperated as he usually did, brows furrowed and lips pulled down into a frown. When he looked at the two exorcists before him he gave a small smile then only. "No more fighting, alright? We're looking for the others as of now."

Allen let out a sigh of relief as he looked to Reever with joy. But something about the silence that followed the man's explanation didn't seem right. Warning bells were ringing. His eyes found the source, and before him he saw Komui Lee. The man was much calmer than he expected after such an announcement. Normally he would be on the edge of his seat, shouting some sort of nonsense, or at the very least his more emotional personality traits would reveal his kind nature toward Lenalee, and even the other exorcists that had yet to return. But all he did was frown, eyes downcast and fingers clenching his beret. It was a solemn sight. Yet… Not enough.

"You're both wounded!" Johnny suddenly pointed out with a quick shove of his finger in the direction of the two battered boys. They looked to him—Allen with his tresses askew and Lavi with his bandana practically falling down over his eye.

"Both of you better get your butts down to the infirmary!" exclaimed a pastel haired chef from the sidelines.

"I can handle myself," Lavi began to say. He was being stubborn, even more so than usual, Allen noted. He watched as Lavi crossed his arms over his chest. There was a twitch to him, a certain mannerism that made Allen exceptionally curious now. Before anyone could object to Lavi, Allen beat them to it.

"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a bit haggard." He gave a kind smile. It was almost sheepish as he admitted his pain uncharacteristically and so plainly. "How about we go down to the infirmary?"

Lavi looked to him. There was a small flash of surprise in that single eye, then something suspicious, curious, doubtful. Yet in the end the red head smiled a lazy smile, and he gave a slow nod of his head before scratching at his prominent jawline.

"Neeeh, guess you're right, Allen. I'm not feeling too good myself either." The man said, agreeing with him, much to Allen's surprise. But he couldn't say he was disappointed. This was what he wanted, after all.

Allen gave a nod of his head. The others watched closely, somehow silent for the time being, as Allen lifted himself up. Lavi offered his hand after just a moment of hesitation and grabbed a hold of the exorcist's elbow so he could lead him along. The people around them then began to question them, some asking if they desired help, some questioning if they really needed to go after all, and some requesting that they take them individually. But Lavi and Allen dodged the questions and hurried from the room. The halls were surprisingly bare away from the dining hall. No one seemed to be around, but in this case it was perfect for Allen. As they walked along toward the infirmary he turned, only so he could be met with a blade to the neck.

"Don't move." Lavi hissed through his teeth.

Allen was in such a shock that he couldn't protest. Lavi stepped forward, backing him up. The boy could feel his back hit the wall, the firm surface stopping any further movement. At his neck the blade remained, sharp and lethal, begging just to cut something before it. "Lavi…"

"This won't trick me again, Road." The eye patch-wearing boy declared in a hushed voice as he leaned closer. Allen could feel the pressure of the blade increase just slightly. It was a threat all on its own. It was purposeful.

"R-Road?" Allen stammered as his eyes widened. He cringed and then shoved against Lavi's forehead with his palm. He could feel himself shaking even as he did so. "Baka Lavi. It's really me!"

Lavi seemed taken aback for a moment, but quickly he regained that harsh attitude. Even if he believed Allen to be a fake, the other was certain at this point that Lavi certainly couldn't be. What good would Road's game be if she helped her prey to win it? "And how do I know this isn't just a trick? You separated me from the others."

A roll of the eyes was given from Allen. He couldn't believe the boy's stubbornness. But then again, Lavi knew more of Road's dreams than he did. How could he blame the older exorcists for being cautious upon the battlefield he held no control over? "It's me. I pulled you along to ask a few questions, but it seems like you might already have answered them." The white haired boy shifted and then shut his eyes with a pained side. "We haven't left Road's dream, have we?"

If Lavi's silence meant anything, Allen hoped it was shock. Or disbelief. Or something of the sort that would either lead to him keeping his head or being wrong about his final question completely. But Lavi spoke again, albeit slowly and faintly, as if he feared being heard.

"No. We haven't." Allen only opened his eyes to watch the shift in Lavi's expressions that happened one by one. The young man wasn't sure what to do at this point. He seemed as exasperated as Allen felt, but he didn't buckle under the pressure as most would. Allen was thankful in that moment that Lavi was rather sturdy. "There are too many signs. This is just another trick, Allen."

Their eyes met. In the fake sunlight that shined in through the windows of the imaginary home they longed for, Allen and Lavi felt their hearts pound simultaneously at the thought of enduring Road's shenanigans once more. How could they fight when things only continued? How could they return if there was no way to win an impossible game such as this?

"So we've returned to the battle field."

"It appears so."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Howard Link did not care for surprises. He was a man of rules and restrictions, having been schooled so long by the upper body of the revered Central Agency of the Black Order. He didn't care for jokes. He didn't care for games. He preferred the set logical aspect of hard work, specifically that which was given to him by his supervisors and, most of all, Rouvelier[4]. It was thus no surprise that he did not find his current situation very comforting in the least.

Though the surroundings around him suggested differently at first glance, Link understood that he had not yet left Road's dream world completely. He had expected death upon being swallowed whole by the demon like himself. But that was simply not his destination. Reality was not, could not, be it either.

The area around him was surprisingly familiar yet distant. Like an old dream one saw once or twice and then never saw again, yet the memory remained strong enough to stick within his mind. Cobblestone streets were below him. He could tell simply because of the 'click-clack'of horses' hooves somewhere off in the distance. Actually… It wasn't quite so distant after all. As the sound grew louder and louder, Link lifted up his head, only to be granted the view of a hulking equestrian who trotted toward him without showing any sign of moving elsewhere. Link stared for just a moment in shock. Then instinct came alive, and he darted.

The quick movement before the skittish animal had it rearing back and creating a ruckus. The animal was creating a fuss, and soon the calls of rage from the driver of the carriage were following him. He skidded on his feet, wind blowing through his hair as he swiftly turned to face the driver of the carriage. Reprimands were in order, as were apologies (from both sides). But before any words could be uttered, a hard item hit his cheek. The item was small, hard, but still tiny. Yet somehow it still held the capability to knock him right back onto his butt. Stunned by the change in his body and the pain sprouting in his cheek, he stared ahead at the driver of the carriage with wide eyes.

"Damn bratty child!" the man yelled at him. Link was only thankful that it was from a safe distance for now. "Make sure ya stay outta ma' way. Ya hear me? I ain't got no time for kids!" the man huffed and puffed with each word.

"Kids?" Link said abruptly. His brows furrowed, but it was then that the pain in his cheek decided to intensify. He lifted his hand to touch the spot only to feel a small spot of moisture there. He pulled his hand back to see a small smear of crimson. But that sight was not what concerned him.

His hand was much too small. He gazed at it with mild fascination with an odd mixture of horror. A small hand, an accusation of being a youth? He was a young man, but certainly not enough so that he could be mistaken as a child. He rose to his feet in a quick motion that was much more awkward than it should have been. Suspicions began sinking in, but they required a conformation. They also required his prime attention. He ignored the babbling idiot behind him who immediately began throwing rocks once more when the male ran. He also ignored the horse who made another commotion even after he had left the scene. He only had one concern in that moment.

He dashed along the streets, finding the surroundings even more familiar to him as he went along. But he didn't desire this picture to be in his head, to be exposed, to be known by the enemy Noah who fiddled with the minds of each of the exorcists she had dragged in. The ground below him was unsteady. Soon his foot caught on something and he went tumbling forward face-first, forehead hitting the ground and hands becoming scraped as he attempted to lift himself up. His body trembling, Link lifted his head. And finally he found what he was looking for.

There was his reflection.

He could see himself in the mirror, but it wasn't quite the appearance he expected. It was him, but not at the age he should have been at that time. It was himself at a younger time, hair ragged but still cut shorter than before. His face was stained with grime. His clothes were baggy, heavy, and just as filthy as his skin was. Large eyes stared back at him. The familiar duo of red dots was no longer present upon his forehead[4].

This was Howard Link before Central had come across him. His mind deduced that much, and rather quickly. He had no time to waste if he intended to find his way out of this moving picture of the past.

Howard Link sat upright and stared right back at himself. And then his eyes narrowed, and he picked himself up from off the ground. Here he was in an alleyway in his old, native area where the days were long and the nights were harsh. Before him was just a window of an old abandoned shop that he could just see enough of himself in to actually utilize. He saw himself as he stood there alone, and he allowed himself to calm in the presence of this old memory.

"You will not trick me, Road." He announced to the sky without so much as blinking. Though he spoke to someone else, his eyes never moved. He stared ahead and let his words drift through the air without any additional punctuation on his words.

"Of course… A pup of the Central Agency would never dare give in to a Noah's tricks, no matter how deceitful. Isn't that right?"

Her voice drifted through his mind so suddenly, proving to him that his suspicions were in fact correct. This was not the past. He was not there, but rather reliving it instead under the leading hand of the invasive Noah of Dreams. Nothing more and nothing less. Even so, he clenched his fists at the sound of her mocking voice. Already she knew too much. If she knew about him, then did she know about…

"Link!"

The man—or rather boy, in this case—jumped and spun around in an instance. Either his fears had materialized themselves or the Noah simply had too many knowledgeable tricks up her sleeve already. Either one was plausible. Neither one was particularly favorable however. There before Link was Tokusa. The boy was dressed similarly to him, all in rags that were tattered and filthy. His hair was pulled off to the side, an early version of his style of the real present day. The markings of the CROW were not present on his visage either as he stood before Link with a slight tilt to his stance.

"T-Tokusa…" Link uttered.

"It's getting cold. You should probably come along so we can all sleep soundly tonight." The young boy said without so much of a twist of his lips. His tone was level. Even then he was quite formal in spite of his situation, but that odd mannerism, a quirky way in which he handled things, was still present, even more so in his youthful years.

Was this what the Noah of Dreams wanted? Him to play along?

"Is everyone at the Church?" he questioned, deciding to play along for the time being. If it was what she wanted, she would get it. After all, the girl had proven thus far that she wasn't interested in a fair game. This wasn't about being fair at all. She held control, and she only cared about toying with them. It wasn't quite the game he and the others had envisioned it as.

"Tch, tch, tch. It goes a bit deeper than that, Howard Link."

There was her voice again. He stiffened upon walking toward Tokusa, and the other boy looked at him with a raised brow and slanted head.

"Getting someone to play along can be quite a game itself, no?"

So that was it. Link understood now. The shock hadn't worn off, but he shook it from his features and turned his face. Though it wasn't truly him, Tokusa didn't need to view his distress in this distorted game of her's.

"Did you hear me at all?" Tokusa questioned while stuffing his hands easily into his pockets. His manner was rough, all his own. As Link followed along, he began trotting forward with a particular swaying of his body.

"Huh?" Link blurted, unable to stop himself. "No… What did you say?" he finally questioned, having realized that he was so consumed by the Naoh's words that he hadn't paid attention at all to Tokusa.

The other boy shook his head. "I said they are all there. Worrying too, because poor Link has yet to make it home." The boy teased his companion, yet his face showed little more than a tiny smile. It could hardly even be called such. It was just the faintest tilt of the lips upward.

"T-Tokusa." Link stammered once more, provoking a light chuckle from the boy beside him. They walked together, Tokusa with his hands still in his pockets and Link with his moving back and forth at his sides.

"They were wondering, though." The other boy said suddenly in response as they turned around a corner. "You disappeared. And it's supposed to snow tonight."

"Snow?"

"Yeah. Snow."

Link's lips twisted into a scowl as he peered ahead. There in the distance he could see the nearly wilting steeple of the old church they had come across in the last few days. They had preferred to keep with active ones where begging for food could actually be used. But as for shelter, the place certainly made other methods and areas pale in a sharp comparison.

Soon they came upon the old building and approached. The old door was hanging by the hinges, just hardly closed before the opening to the church. The gap was large enough and they were just small enough to duck and slip inside without the slightest of problems. Inside the church there was only the sound of the howling wind whistling through the cracks in the beams above. The cacophony was a warning sign to Link's now trained ears. Or perhaps it was an age-old instinct that told him the night would be a rough one. Saying nothing to each other any longer, they continued forward and turned through the church together. It wasn't large, consisting of one large room for sermons and then just a few to the side for other purposes. It was inside of the first room to the right that they found the others huddled in the corner. He saw them before they peered at him. There they all were: Madarao, Tewaku, Kiredori, and Goushi. Tokusa still remained at his side.

They all appeared so different in the past. Madarao's hair wasn't visible from beneath the large cap plopped down over his ears. The features were the same, though less hardened from a rigorous training that had possessed each and every one of them. Beside him Goushi was sitting, knees propped up in a boyish manner, but he was ever so quiet. He was bundled up like the others in tattered clothing and a layer of grime, his square-ish features nearly accentuated by the layering of dirt on his cheeks and jawline. Kiredori and Tewaku were stuffed together, the smallest of the bunch and therefore perceived as more vulnerable. Though small, they both possessed enough hardened traits to have survived on the streets nearly alone. He stood staring at them all, nostalgia taking such a literal form as he viewed his own past from the same perspective as when it had occurred.

Goushi was the one to notice him first. He was a silent but hulking figure, and so when he noticed their fellow companions he only nodded to catch Madarao's attention before pointing toward Link and Tokusa. Madarao didn't smile, but his eyes did express the relief he must have felt. He stood to greet them, and it was then that Tewaku and Kiredori noticed the exchange of acknowledgements.

"Brother Link." Tewaku said as she, too, jumped up to her feet. The other female did not lift herself up, but she gave a small tilt of her head that suggested her interest in the situation.

Here they all were in front of him once more. Link was not accustomed to this, this sudden stinging emotion that erupted in his chest and overtook him within an instant. He wasn't used to feeling such pain. An attachment had formed between them, and though he'd never deny it, he hadn't thought to acknowledge it so thoroughly. In his current position, what was the need to lament the past? But now he had that chance. Whether he wished to or not, the feeling forced itself upon him.

"You disappeared earlier." Madarao clarified as he stopped in front of the two that had been missing from their group. "It's going to get cold. Why did you leave?"

Link had to blink his eyes and think fast if he was going to continue playing along. "I tried to find material." He found what he needed to say, and a bit too easily he settled into the lie he needed to tell. "I wanted blankets for us all."

"That didn't end very well." Kiredori said easily but monotonously.

"He tried." Tokusa said with a shrug of his shoulders. He finally pulled his hands from his pockets and strode forward as if he had no cares.

"We were prepared. We shouldn't panic over the weather." Tewaku said. She seated herself back upon the ground before her elder brother did the same slowly. Each one of them took their seat next to each other, and Link soon followed to do the same.

"It's coming now. I hope we are as prepared as we think." Goushi finally spoke only to utter the foreboding words. It was true that the weather would be strong. They all knew this by the way the wind was roaring, the temperature was dropping, and the lack of noise from outside. People were moving inside for cover just as they had. But, unlike them, most would be able to enjoy the comforts of a heated room while they had little more than each other to keep themselves warm.

And so the night progressed in such a manner. The temperature continued to plummets as the minutes passed, and Link could only settle closer to his companions as they did the same. Warmth was necessary. But if the weather continued to behave as it did, even that would do little for them.

It was frigid, even in the church. Outside there wasn't one human that could be heard scurrying around, but the howling wind was another story entirely. It hissed at them from outside, spitting flurries of white powder in through the cracks above their heads. The old church gave creaks and groans as the weather battered it over and over, each second only proving to be even worse than the last. They huddled closer. But even that wasn't proving to be enough, for they all were shivering violently.

Link had forgotten how horrid the winters could be in those early years of his life. The years where the cold nearly suffocated him, and his whole body ached from the changes around him that occurred so naturally and effortlessly in nature. Now he could recall it with painful accuracy. Each limb practically burned from the frigid cold. Frost bite, maybe, he deduced. Or perhaps it was just the start of it. But what did it matter? He couldn't think straight in those moments where he shivered and held onto Madarao beside him. He forgot his inhibitions, his strict teachings, the practiced stoicism that had engulfed him. He only clung to the one beside him and hoped for a resolution to this night without each of them ending up dead in the end.

He expected Road to not allow such a thing. She was in control after all; this was not simply a memory being played through. It was practically interactive. And so he expected her to bring a swift death to him through the bitter cold that pounded upon the church door. But such was not the case. It wasn't even the wind that was slamming the door.

Link's eyes widened as he made out the distinct sound of the pounding. The others couldn't hear it at the time over the howling winds that threatened them from outside. But he could. In spite of the cold, he sat himself up and pulled away from the huddling children that lay with him. Tewaku's head rose, and she watched him with something akin to concern misting over her eyes.

"W-what are y-you d-doing?" stuttered Madarao. Each of them looked to Link, unsure and uncertain about what the other boy was doing as their death was slinking just outside of the church.

"I-I don't k-know." Link answered. He certainly did, he knew this memory like the back of his hand. But he would push it into motion ahead of time. Before any of them could stop him, he burst forward and made his lanky limbs follow his demands even in a subpar manner. The cold made his actions strained, but he was still able to run on to the front of the porch. He could hear the others behind him as he finally reached the door. In the crack of the door, where he had slipped in with Tokusa, a pair of boots appeared. Link knew this moment. He would never forget it.

"Link."

The others behind him paused at the voice that could be heard even over the storm. To Link it was familiar, to the others it was still foreign.

"Tewaku… Kiredori… Goushi….Tokusa… Madarao…."

They were named off one by one. The others were weary, and in the true past, Link had been too. At that point he hadn't known the person on the other side of the door. But he would come to know the man very well in such little time.

The door was suddenly flung open. The wind blew inside, nearly tossing the children down. Link held onto the door frame just to support himself. For a moment it was blinding white with wind and snow, but then it cleared, and the storm itself seemed to quiet in the presence of the man before them.

"My name is Malcolm C. Rouvelier." The man said with ease and practice, as if he had repeated the introduction a dozen times, which in fact he had. The man before them did not smile. Instead he regarded them with a stern eye. Link could recall fear, trepidation. But it was the words the man spoke immediately afterwards that had ensnared them all. "I have come here to give you a better life."

"A better life?" Goushi questioned in response.

"How could you do that?" Madarao inquired as Tokusa looked on with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Link was silent, knowing what was to come, knowing he must allow it to play out.

Rouvelier was not particularly kind. But he could play the part, something that oddly made Link respect the man all those years since this very moment that was replaying. And so the man smiled at them, lips tilting and all. And then he held out his hand. Behind him a carriage was exposed, the door opened wide as if to invite them in.

"Children like you come to the churches every day. You beg and plead for food, but there is much more to be gained from the clergy men you seek every morning." Rouvelier assured them. "Join the Black Order and gain a future worth living your lives for."

Those had been the words. Link knew this was his part to play now in Road's theater. He allowed the others to express their doubts, their concerns through careful glances at one another. But he didn't return them. Not now. He grit his teeth, and then he held out his hand to the man he would one day respect and revere.

Rouvelier clasped his hand. But the memory didn't end there. And the expectations he had suddenly acquired for the direction of Road's illusions were disrupted. He expected her to play along until the very end. But such was not the case in the very least.

It was sudden as the church around them cracked and crumbled, giving loud groans as the beams gave way and finally began to crash down from above. His heart fluttered, pounded, and he watched with shock as Goushi gripped Kiredori's hand to pull her abruptly from danger's path. They lunged in the other direction.

"Out! Get out, everyone!" Link heard the words suddenly erupting from his throat before he could even move a muscle. He followed them all out, and together they all watched as the church crumbled and crashed. The others seemed to find relief in its destruction, but Link couldn't calm himself. This wasn't over. It wasn't over just yet.

"You're just a bit too smart."

Road's voice wisped through his mind once more. He hardly had any time to react to what occurred directly afterwards. Rouvelier's hand, which he still held, grasped his suddenly with an unnaturally tight grip. He glanced down in shock and nearly jumped back. But he hadn't listened to instinct soon enough. Before he could move the decision was made for him. Thick, metal strings suddenly twisted around his wrists. Coiling, coiling, coiling, they wrapped around his wrists tighter and tighter until he finally cried out from the pain of the strands digging into his skin as a collective force. They collected around his wrists, then at his elbows, shoulders, knees, ankles, hips and neck. The metallic string was sinking into his flesh each time it coiled tighter around him. He panted with the effort of resisting the pain, but a cry escaped him as the strings around his abdomen cut into his side. Abruptly the strands around his neck tightened to silence his cries.

"Link!"

Said boy looked the source of the voice that was calling out his name with desperation evident in their tone. Tewaku called to him, hand outstretched in a gesture of companionship. She wished to save him, but such would not be accomplished under Road's watch. The spiraling strings found Tewaku as well. Around her wrists they formed, and all other joints of the body. Her predicament mirrored Link's in that moment. Glancing around, Link watched as the others soon faced the same exact situation, each and every one of them. They were bound and nearly gagged with the strands around their neck. They couldn't speak to each other and they couldn't move. Link's gaze moved this way and that in a panic. Rouvelier was gone. Not another soul was around them, but he noticed a separate change from that as well. The scenery around him was fake. Buildings weren't made of mortar and brick but rather paper and glue. The vegetation had already perished for the season, but now their remnants were just as craft-like as the buildings that surrounded them in the same manner they had when they were real. Only the six of them and the heavily falling snow were real in this suddenly altered world.

"What are you up to, Noah of Dreams?" Link shouted out. He no longer concerned himself with keeping up the false reality around him. The point was lost with the others bound, his body restrained, his voice and his body failing in such a predicament.

She did not answer his calls immediately, but since when did the Noah ever carter to an exorcist's needs, let alone a so-called 'central bastard'? No, she didn't tend to what he desired and needed. Instead, her game continued at its maddening pace as it had before. The strands around his wrists pulled. With a gasp he was dragged forward in a jerking, rough manner. The metal cut deep, but the motions continued all the same. Next his elbows were lifted by the strings, then his legs. He was dragged about, picked up, turned this way and that upon the blanket of snow and before the false background.

Link's mind rushed to process the startling way in which he was manipulated, both body and soul, mind and heart included. The motions that twisted him around made no sense to him in the very beginning. But slowly, ever so slowly, the realization began to dawn on him through the haze that had begun to form in his weary mind.

Wrists, ankles, knees, elbows, all attached to string so he and the others would bob about with directed movements. His gaze lifted. Sure enough the strings extended into the sky where only a pair of calloused hands played along, jerking the strings this way and that. Now he understood.

"Puppets… That's how you would describe yourself and your little companions, wouldn't you, Howard Link?"

It seemed as if the girl was whispering into his ear. He could feel warm breath breezing over his shoulder like an unwanted caress and shivered. Her voice was right at his ear, speaking, whispering to him his insecurities and reluctance that he hadn't dared to confront so intimately before.

"Orphans first, a band of brats next, and then a puppet of Central Agency."

There was a pause. When she spoke again, Link could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

"Has your life ever been your own, Howard Link?"

His chest clenched, and so suddenly he felt the urgent sickness that had risen up in his stomach. Bile threatened to rise and spill from his lips, but he contained himself simply by shutting his eyes and clenching his fists. The blades at his wrists were of no use to him. Only his mind could be utilized, and even that was being strained to its utmost potential. He couldn't think. He could only feel, and all that he felt was pain.

It was so sudden as he lurched forward. If he had been supporting himself, Link would have found himself face first upon the ground. But instead the strings held him up, albeit by digging their metallic strands into his flesh even further. The contents of his stomach threatened to spill. But it was the screams that stopped him from even giving into such a sickness.

Eyes rose, and he watched carefully as the hands that had operated them now reached below to grab a hold of one of them. It was Tokusa first, though Link knew upon first glance that they all would soon follow. It was simply the way this Noah worked with her torturous shenanigans. Helpless like the others, Link watched as the young boy was lifted just high enough, and then the figure that held him slowly leaned down. A shock of surprise and disgust shook Link to his core. Rouvelier had disappeared only to reappear as the culprit, the marionette who dragged his puppets about without much care as to how they felt about it. Link rejected this. He detested this. But little more than an indignant shout could be raised as he watched from the distance as the others did the same.

Rouvelier lifted the boy up only to peer at him intently. His face was its usual stern mask, unfeeling, uncaring, but even more stoic than Link had ever seen in the real world. He had seen the man in such cruel moments of passion and immorality. But never did he look so demonic as he did in that moment.

It's Road, he told himself, nothing more.

But even still he quivered at the sight of such maddening cruelty.

Tokusa writhed, and the strings only pulled tighter in response. Trapped, captured, he could not move. Rouvelier leaned in closer only to finally smile. But the twisting of his lips was unnatural. Link found it more terrifying than the stoicism he had displayed just moments before. The man still held him, but swiftly another pair of calloused hands appeared to complete whatever his damned plan was.

The work of the hands was hardly discernable. But they didn't need to see what was occurring to understand the tragedy of it. Screams arose, agonized, desperate. Intermixed in the cries was the shouting of names, and vaguely Link could hear his own above the other anguished sounds.

It was over with as soon as it began. Though Link expected to see such a tremendous amount of damage, such wasn't the case when Tokusa was released and dropped carelessly to the ground. Wounds, he had none, except for one. Upon his forehead was a familiar sight to Link. Two red dots were positioned specifically upon Tokusa's skin, the very same ones he had been accustomed to seeing in the mirror, and the very same ones that a certain red head and scarred exorcists adored teasing him about.

The markings of the CROW. So it seemed Road was driving home her imagery, branding them as they had been in the Order while adding a melancholic tone to the whole ordeal. She twisted things, distorted them.

This wasn't the truth of the situation, was it?

Link wouldn't bother with his own pervasive questions. This wasn't the time for doubts any longer. This was the time for an escape, if only he had one.

He stared at the figure, allowing his eyes to take in what was left of Tokusa. He was only momentarily shocked to find not the young child he had been with for the night, but rather the man he would be in the true current time. His features were defined, his hair decorated in its new usual manner. He was the man that Link knew now. But in this dream world he was little more than a broken doll who lay there weeping as he was held to the ground by the strings.

One by one they were lifted into the sky to face the smiling Rouvelier, whose expression hadn't wavered since the very beginning of the process. Cries would erupt, attempts to flee never achieved, and in the end they each took on the markings and grew into who they were in the true present. Tewaku's curls fell around her shoulders as she cried for Madarao. Kiredori's eyes shined with a startling sharpness, fingers clenched tightly in pain. Goushi's large stature appeared strong, yet he trembled just as violently as the rest of them did. Tokusa was brokenly lamenting the events just as Madarao was finally relinquished from Rouvelier's hold. He, too, now resembled the stoic creature that went by the same name in the current age.

Howard Link's eyes widened as he realized it was his time now to face the consequences of their acceptance of Rouvelier's helping hand. He wasn't lifted delicately, but quickly. Flat upon the man's palm, Link stared upwards into familiar eyes that still seemed foreign to him. His body flushed with heat, shame and fear overwhelming him in those silent seconds where only Rouvelier was present. Then the hands came dropping in to tarnish him too. There was no tool to cause him pain. Instead, as the hands covered him, he felt the pain piercing through something within him. He supposed it must be his soul. Memories shouldn't have been painful. But he cried as the others had while pictures twisted, hurried, stalled and the rushed before his eyes while pain spread throughout his forehead.

They had gotten into that carriage.

They had left their old life behind in exchange for another one. But they hadn't known the pain that would follow them in a life plagued with mysterious creatures, suspicious individuals, wavering trust and dying accommodators of God's Holy War. Choking, Link could hear each memory that passed through his mind within a matter of seconds.

"Let go of your old conceptions." Rouvelier told him one moment.

"Build yourself up so no other can break you down again." There he was again, advising him on a separate occasion.

The young Link had only nodded his head in response. He had listened, determined to live the life that was offered to him by an outstretched hand. He had let go, he had recreated himself, and though it was fleeting, he had received Rouvelier's praise in the end.

Another memory flashed. More painful than the ones preceding it, Link gave a cry as he caught a glimpse of the fleeting image. He had left them. Though still a CROW in practice, he had left them behind to follow Rouvelier onto a different battle field entirely. Inspector, they then called him, a title that had given him such joy upon initially receiving it. So why was this pain there? He gasped out, seeing the faces of his old companions once again. They hadn't condemned him for his choices. But they had parted ways. He had left them behind for something more. His mind screamed that it was only natural for him to take what he was offered. But even so, was it right? He couldn't answer. The pain in his head suddenly intensified, and just like that he was released and dropped to the ground as the others had been.

His back hit the ground with such an agonizing impact. It felt as if every part of him was jostled painfully as he landed upon the ground, now his true age, beside his fallen companions. He didn't dare move. The strings weren't loose, but they weren't the reason he kept himself restrained. He could feel something so clearly, a sudden panic that warned him of what to come. His chest nearly seized as he looked this way and that, prepared to face the Noah's next game.

"Game over, Link."

His eyes widened. The game was over for him she said. But what in the world did that insinuate now? He didn't wait long in order to discover how she planned to end their little session of a cat-and-mouse game.

Crack!

Plop!

Shuulk!

The sickening sounds reached him suddenly. They came from his right where his friends lay just as broken as he did. Though he didn't want to view the carnage that was sure to come, he lifted his gaze in spite of himself. His eyes wandered, moving from one figure to the other, but it didn't take long for him to discover the source of the sounds. It was Goushi this time. The man still lay upon his back, chest heaving with pain while he blinked his eyes sporadically. But there was something wrong with this picture. Perhaps it had to do with disconnected limbs and stains of a crimson red.

Kiredori let out an agonizing cry. The man beside her was little more than a form. The strings had tightened just enough and pulled, and just like that his limbs had been severed right from his body. The stains of crimson were spreading, and the others were crying out in pure agony as the realization of what had occurred settled upon them like a darkening cloud. Link himself couldn't speak. He had no words to say, no sound to give, no moment to spare staring at that corpse. But his gaze wasn't removed in time. The strings around the man's neck tightened. For a moment they only dug into his skin. But a swift tug soon followed, and like that, the head was severed from the body.

He couldn't watch. His heart was palpitating with a strong terror that threatened to send his sanity spiraling away from him. This was the power of the Noah of Dreams. Sanity hardly seemed like a tangible existence in her presence. He was logical, sturdy man. But he even couldn't undergo this trauma without the due consequences. His eyes were closed tightly. He didn't look as the screams started again. He knew now how she planned to end the game, and he wouldn't dare allow himself to be dragged along. He kicked his legs and managed to push himself forward. But the achievement was short lived. Immediately following, he was shoved back by an unseen force. At the very same time a sickening crunch sounded. Kiredori, she was gone now too. Though he didn't glance in the other direction he could see it from his peripheral vision, could see the image flashing through his mind through the force of the Noah's invasive power. The crushed skull and bulging eyes brought bile up from his stomach.

First Goushi, then Kiredori, and the rest followed suit. The first was pulled apart and the second was crushed. The third, Tokusa, received an alternate end as well. Though Link tried to escape the images, the Noah wouldn't allow it. Each death was filtered through his mind. Combustion was Tokusa's method of removal. It was so sudden as the flames burst around him, and even more startling when they consumed him whole. Flames danced across pale flesh, darkening it, burning it, destroying it. Next was Madarao. Tokusa had vanished, burned to ashes within a matter of seconds under the power of the Noah of Dreams. Tewaku was sobbing beside Link while Madarao was silent in shock and fear. But his lungs soon expelled air with a scream so loud it nearly seemed to rattle the whole scenery. This time Link did look, finding the effort for avoiding it pointless when the Noah still displayed it clearly within his mind. He heard Tewaku's gasp, and he dug his teeth into his lower lip as he watched a long, jagged incision appear upon the man's chest. It was deep enough to weep scarlet immediately. But his torture had yet to cease. The laceration was only the beginning, and following it was a grotesque snap. The thin line of red opened, spreading apart to reveal the layers of skin and fat inside. The smallest glimpse of white was revealed. Then another snap sounded. Rapidly his chest had been cracked open, revealing all of his innards to the two remaining. Tewaku was crying out for her brother, but it was already over. She, too, faced her end quickly following Madarao's. Her fate was equally as tragic. She had turned to Link in those last moments, begging for help with her brother although he was already gone. He witnessed as skin tore, and peeled away in a grotesque display. Road was skinning the girl alive, her methods even more brutal as they continued. Link could only stare with widened eyes as the girl was stripped of the layers of skin.

He couldn't stand this. He turned away, but he couldn't hide from the images that haunted him, the repeated in his mind through Road and through his own trauma. Finally, after so long, it was silent. He didn't dare open his eyes. He didn't want to see such a world any longer. As he trembled, long fingers suddenly curled around his throat. Eyes snapped open, and he gazed up at the figure that leered at him from above. She was little more than a shadow, but it was enough. Road had finally entered, he thought, but it was only so she could take care of him herself. Her manner was not as cruel with him as the others, but he was sure that wasn't her point. He stared up at the shadow of her figure as he gasped for air that wouldn't come. And the smile widened before she slashed at his throat.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was only a copy of her that played in the game. It held no soul, no mind, nothing more than a command that it would complete without faltering. Much like the demons they had faced earlier. From the sidelines, Tyki Mikk watched with slanted eyes and stoic features. Howard Link struggled. But he felt no remorse or pity for the man. Tyki watched unfazed as the Noah's shadowy image slashed at Link's throat. It backed away then as Link gasped out in pain. He was suffocating on his own blood. The lacerations in his throat allowed blood to pool, and his eyes were rolling back as the pain brought him to his knees in his resolve. Rapidly Link's eyes were blinking. But soon they closed and the man began to sink into the ground, sink into darkness.

"You're not dead." The voyeur said as he turned away.

"She's not yet done with any of you."

[1] (Dame): Translated as no in this context; the significance of this word, and the reason why it was said in Japanese first in the text, was its connection to the anime. Episode 57 shows Allen's first encounter with the Fourteenth where the Noah tells him "no" in response to his attempt to run away.

[2]: A reference to episode 85/86 in which Tyki Mikk creates a vacuum in which Allen reaches the Critical Point.

[3](Rouvelier): Only an explanation on spelling. Though there are different versions, I have taken the liberty of using this particular spelling.

[4] All CROW have the twin dots that we see upon Link's forehead.

Additional: The later part with Link is pieced together with a lot of assumptions, imagination, and a bit of generalities. I did my best with the Third Exorcists, and Link himself on a deeper level. What I mean to say is that, like many things in this story, a lot of it is a long shot in the dark. I'm simply taking creative license while trying to make it fit the story.

My source for the moment is DGM's wiki page. If you can find me links to prove otherwise, let me know please.

…..

Authors Notes

Hello, everyone. I hope the chapter was enjoyable after such a long wait. Now, as for an explanation—quite a bit to say. I won't claim that I couldn't have ever gotten this chapter out. But it is what it is (as much as I hate such a saying), and the problems that occurred did occur. Last year I was caught up with school work. When summer came I believed I would have the time to write. But then I got myself a job. This opportunity blew by, so when school began again, I still attempted to continue writing. This year I currently have eight classes for the semester, nine for the next, half of which are above regular classes. In other words, I was and am quite busy. This chapter would have been up sooner. I was nearly finished with it when my computer crashed and I lost everything, including a one-shot that would have been to make up for the time it took to create the chapter. I'm disappointed to say that the crash of the computer left me rather upset with this story. I was behind in updating, busy with school, working on the weekends instead of having spare time, and thus I was on the edge of giving up. But reading old reviews inspired me to push through and give you this chapter.

I hope the chapter makes up for the wait, I sincerely do. I hope there are still people willing to read this as well. If you're an old reader, let me know. I'd really love to see returning commenters.

Now, as for my updating schedule: I can't say what that will be like precisely. As I have said, I am busy. But I hope a chapter after a year of waiting has proven that I intend to keep this story going until I finish it, whether that means short updates with long chapters or vice versa. I will write when I can, and I hope to get onto a better schedule for this story.

As for now, lovelies, please have a wonderful New Year. I hope to see you again very soon.

~ Sabre

…

Now time for the replies for the reviews. I hope those who left them have returned and read through.

Guest #1 (Nov. 18th): A year indeed. Please except my apologies, anonymous.

Phatpanda55: I'm so sorry about the falling out in this story. Hopefully you return!

TimeLady11: I recall answering this review in a PM when I was nearly finished with the original version. Once more, I am so glad you have enjoyed it thus far. I haven't given up just yet.

blood rose: Hello~ I'm still here, I promise!

Guest #2 (May 28th): So much encouragement! This helped me to pick up the (metaphorical) pen and continue writing. Seven months, now a whole year, was much too long for a wait. I hope to see you here again, guest.

Chiorikizunai88: Thank you so much! Hope this new installment was just as good.

Guest #3 (April 6th): Let's kill the suspense now then. Did this chapter relieve it?

Devil Wolf Girl: Such a sweet comment to leave behind. Enjoy the update!

Guest #4 (Jan. 30th): Updated now! Hopefully another will come quickly.

Guest #5 (Dec. 23rd): That is extremely sweet of you to say. I hope I don't disappoint, especially with this come-back.

Guest #6 (Dec. 8th): Here it is! I hope you are back reading it.

Psychotic-Black-Knight: Glad the cliff hanger was good! This chapter does not have one, but hopefully it was just as exciting.

gabiey: You left me a very generous comment, and I'm sad to say that I didn't bring the chapter quickly enough. Thank you for your understanding before, for the comments, and for reading. I hope to see you here again.

Shirubagure: I did hear! If you haven't heard, DGM is now officially back in production with Katsura Hoshino! Additionally, an anime series has been verified for next year! How exciting is that? You always leave me wonderful reviews, I truly hope to see you here again. I'm hoping to figure something out for your request as well (I haven't forgotten).

AnimangaLoverFE: Sorry that it did not meet your preference. You never know where stories will go though, huh? Glad to see you still enjoy it though.

ToraTsuin: Life happens, yes. This was horrible though. I'm so sorry! Please return, lovely reviewer. (Road is always trying to tear them apart, that devious Noah).

SpecterWolf: I'll always reply, it's quite fun. On another note, your reply really helped me to bring the story back. It was very kind, and so encouraging. It did echo the episode with a mirrored Lavi. But the reference to two was meaning Lavi himself and the mirrored image. Hope that helps. Come back soon!

.summergrey.: Allen is very strong indeed. Word can hurt, and easily too. It's a shame he goes through all the horrid experiences he does (What am I saying? I torture him just as much in my story, heh).

Sinfulangels: Thank you so much!

There are the reviews, and thus another installment has ended. On another note, as I had said to the lovely Shirubagure, DGM is back—manga updates every three months (next one in January!), and a new anime soon to premiere in the next year. Let's hope all goes well in the world of DGM! If anyone needs sources or links (chapters, updates, the new PV for the anime, etc), just send a message or mention it in the review.

Have a good one, everyone. I hope to see you again soon. Forgive me for my late work, but I hope to see you all again!