Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dirt.

The first thing the lavender tiefling knew in the world was, once again, the pungent scent of dirt.
Something nagging in the back of his mind told him, (and he was fairly certain that he was a ‘him,’ although the edges of that idea were frayed and scuffed, as though it wasn’t supposed to matter very much,) he had done this before. This smell of deep dark earth and decay was not new. It was familiar, but not like an old comfy cardigan or a mug of coco. This familiarity came with a bite. The tiefling did not want it.

The same something told him that he should keep his eyes shut. That opening them meant more dirt, dirt in his face, in his lungs.

Breathing. Oh yes. Breathing. He had not thought of that.

Had he been doing it all this time?

No.

A crackling searing pain shot through his lungs as a great gasp of breath broke through them. The tiefling opened his mouth, further cracking thirst-starved lips in a strangled howl.

But no dirt came crumbling down to meet his tongue.

The tiefling was surprised. He had been so certain. The certainty had scared him.

*Not again.* He had thought.

*No, no. Not again.*

But he had never experienced such a thing before. This was not an ‘again,’ this was a brand new.

A spike of delight rippled. Oh he had done it! He had succeeded where none before had! He was victorious! He was unstoppable! This would work! The glee swarmed through his chest, though it stopped when it hit the centre.

Something was different.

And why was he glad? What was he happy for?

*Who am I?* Came the last, uncomfortable thought, before the tieflings ears snapped to attention.

There were voices above him.

“Did it work?”

“Is he-?”

“Nonagon?”

A ring of truth sparked at the last word.

A name. A title, almost.

His title.

He was Nonagon.

He was victorious.

He was going to succeed.

A gentler feeling tugged from that same somewhere in the back of his mind.
*No.*

Nonagon opened his eyes.

The light hit him at once, and he immediately closed them again, lifting his hands to shield his face. His arms ached, every muscle screaming for peace.

Slowly, he parted long thin fingers and peered up at the sky.

It was cloudy but bright. The entire surrounding landscape was blinding white with snow. There was a storm coming. Though pale cream, the gathering clouds were heavy with rain. Biding their time.

Perhaps like he had been?

“Can you sit?” Another voice had joined the throng, a female one, and Nonagon slowly lowered his fingers a touch more, taking in the group of people stood gathered around where he lay.

He was not in the ground.

Why that surprised him, he did not at that moment understand.

He was cold. Wet. A shiver crept down his spine and travelled hatefully all the way to the point of his tail, which twitched.
It collided with something sturdy, which apparently spurred the female on because suddenly warm furry hands were clutching at his own, wrenching them away so the two could look at each other.

“Lucien!”

Another name.

Another name that sent bullets of realisation ricocheting around the tieflings heart.

*Lucien. I am Lucien. My name is Lucien. I am the Nonagon. I have succeeded.*

“Lucien!” The warm hands brushed back long hair from his face. She was tender, but feverish with some need. She wanted his confirmation.

“Who..?” His throat constricted angrily, berating him for using vocal chords which had all but rusted away like an abandoned instrument.

“No, no. Lucien, you know me. You know me.” Desperation was seeping into her words now. And as Lucien blinked his eyes into focus, he saw a face that he definitely recognised.

Dark fur, pointed ears, a pleading smile at the corners of her mouth.

“Cree!”
The jubilation was tenfold as the pair embraced.

*Cree. I know her, I remember her.*

*I don’t.*

*I do.*

*I lied to her.*

*I lead her. I lead them all.*

*I would rather forget.*

“Careful now. Can you- yes, good, sit up with me. Here. Yes, good.”

Lucien was vaguely aware of the bodies gathering around, all sitting down, taking places in the snow, watching him as Cree pawed at his clothing, pulling him up to sit properly.

A thick cloak was flung around his shoulders, and he sighed gratefully into the newly found warmth. Even tieflings had their limits, it seemed.

Or perhaps being newly un-dead meant that he was more susceptible to the chill.

Her hands were soft, heat radiated from her as she patted him down, checking for injury. She stopped when she reached his chest.

Lucien tracked down, following her gaze and his own eyes fell onto a terrible sight.

“By the...” But he could still barely speak.
He tore at the folds of the dirt-stained, smeared shirt that had once perhaps been white. It was tattered, sliced, broken apart. And covered in dried blood. Lucien was awash with it. Every item he wore was tainted with it. Diamond striped pants he would have sworn he did not own were splattered. Everything. Everything was bloodied and ruined.

All had been spilled from this very spot. This horror...

In almost the dead centre of his chest, lay a ghastly plunging hole.

It was too big to be the work of a normal blade. Newly repaired ribs cried out just beneath the cavern by his heart.

“H...how..?”

A pulse of heat brushed his skin. Cree’s hand had darted towards his shirt.

“...what happened..?” He wanted a hot bath.

But Cree was not paying attention. She was tucking something away into the folds of her own cloak.

“Wha..?”

“Lets get you warm shall we.”
She was rubbing his arms, heat slowly flooding back into his limbs.

He looked decidedly away from his own chest. He felt sick.

A face swam murkily through the tieflings minds eye.

Cracked golden teeth.

A smile that brought no comfort with it.

Lucien spat a mouthful of blood onto the snow.

*’Respect.’*

Lucien began to shake.

*Well, fuck you too.*

That was not how he had died.

He had died in that clearing, waiting for the ritual to work.

It HAD worked. He was here now.

But still something was wrong.

“Cree, we found-” Another voice came from behind Lucien. He looked around.

He was sitting beside a mound of earth, and a shallow hole.

*I was down there.*

He knew it.

Lucien gulped.

The man speaking was calling from the far side. He stood next to a long stick which was jutting out of the ground, like a needle marking this place’s location.

“Let me see!”
Cree was holding out a hand, reaching past Lucien towards the man.

As Lucien watched, trying to place the other face, the man held up something crimson, no red, no, maroon. It was difficult to tell with newly adjusting eyes. The thing was long, brushing the snowy ground as the hands holding it at eye-level waved the thing towards Cree.

There was a snarl. Cree had risen to her feet and was snapping clawed fingers as she walked towards the man.

“Give it to me.”

Lucien did not know what was bringing the sudden tension to their little group, but he was too exhausted to think on it much.

*They left it for me.*

As soon as the thought entered his head, Lucien dismissed it.

*They are here with me.*

Cree stood with her back to him, taking the thing from the other man with a growl as she began to paw at it, examining every inch. Was she searching for something?

Lucien could at last see that is was a robe. Long, billowing, bedecked in more details than he could make out. Stars, moons, suns, arrows and swirls in every which direction.

*Mine.*

Cree snarled again.

“Leave it.”

With one swift motion, the garment was tossed into the wind, which carried it for several feet before it vanished into a snowdrift.

*No!*

Something in that somewhere part of the tieflings heart burned. A wild longing set into him, driving him to go and retrieve the coat. But he was cold. He was tired. And he was finally home.

Cree was back at his side, gripping his hands once more, and looking at him with deep determination.

“What..?” He had begun to ask what happened to him, but the question died in his throat. It hurt to speak, for one thing, and for another he had just spotted something-
“...on earth?!”

Lucien took his hands back from Cree, examining them with horrified eyes.

This was not how he had left his skin.

An inked serpent wound its way across his hand, up his wrist, and as Lucien shoved up the sleeve of an over-bold multicoloured jacket, he saw that the snake showed no sign of stopping.

“Ah. Yes.” Cree had a touch of disgust in her voice now, as she sent hushed instructions to the half dozen or so other cloaked figures to make ready to depart and to fetch Lucien something to drink.

“Wh... did you do this?”

The tabaxi looked as though she were about to cuff Lucien around the side of the head, but thought better of it.
“Of course not!” She hissed, tugging his sleeve back down again and wrapping the cloak more tightly around him. “But I know who did. And... well, you are not going to like it.”

* * *

Chapter Text

Chapter Two - Slipping In.

.

Within a few hours, the group was up and on the move. Lucien hung on tightly to Cree’s shoulder as they went. Walking was not easy. He felt like an absurd kind of young animal, just learning its first steps in the snow.

Cree had not told him anything more. She pressed a drink into his hands and after he finished they had started to walk.

Lucien had no energy to ask more questions. Every ounce of his concentration was going into keeping one foot marching on in front of the other.

He was finding it difficult to keep track of time. Days blurred past his vision. They trudged on and on through snow sheets, through blizzards, through bright sunlit days that stung his eyes.

All the while, Lucien held onto Cree. She kept him anchored here. In this place. In this life.

He had died. He knew that much.

He had seen death. Stared it right in the face. The lonely pang of it clung all around him still. He remembered nothing of death. No white light, no gods. No heavenly peace. Nothing.

Perhaps that was all there was? Nothingness.

The thought was not comforting.

He was very glad to be alive again, especially if that was the truth.

As the days rolled on, the tiefling attempted to remember. His throat burned too much to speak, and most of the time the group was silent. The wind usually took their words before any could hear anyway. So Lucien had time to think. Lots of empty time to fill with questions and wonderings.

He found an inner dialogue forming. Answers offered themselves but he did not understand them.

*My name is Lucien. I am the Nonagon. I am going to succeed.*

*Succeed at what?*

*It’s obvious isn’t it.*

*Is it?*

*I am going to live forever.*

*Sounds boring.*

*Boring? To exist beyond any other? To survive where others fall? To-*

*Watch everyone around you die.*

*There will always be more people.*

*Sure, but it sounds kinda lonely.*

*I do not care.*

*You should.*

*My name is Lucien. I am the Nonagon. I will live forever.*

...

They stopped maybe a fortnight later, somewhere Lucien did not recognise. The town was small and plain, with dilapidated stores and a meagre tavern. But it was the first town they had come across so far.

Cree was agitated as they arrived.
She muttered darkly about there being nowhere to keep properly out of sight.

Lucien wondered if someone was following them.
When he shot the tabaxi a quizzical look, she just shook her head, sending flutterings of snow towards the ground.

“We will do better if no one knows where we have been.” She said, ushering Lucien through the tavern doors.

A sign hung lopsided up above, but Lucien caught only one letter of the name ‘S,’ before their group was gathering inside.

“I’ll get the rooms.” Cree was already passing out instructions with a wave of her hands. “Find a good table. Order food, order drinks.”

To Lucien, she said,
“Go and sit down.”

He was only too glad to do so. The day had been a particularly long one. The prospect of a warm bed, a real bed, was too delicious. The group began to meander towards a table right beside the vast fireplace and Lucien took the seat closest to the roaring fire.

Heat smashed him across the face and he purred contentedly as he swept the cloak off his shoulders and rubbed his hands together over the flames.

Talk behind him turned to food and beverages.

Lucien closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead.

It was so long now, the cold matted curls reached well past his shoulders.

He would address that soon.

He would need new clothing too. That could not wait. These colourful pieces he had been resurrected in were somewhat pretty, but they were ruined. Blood, mud and snow storms had beaten the strength out of the fabric, and the tiefling was quite sick of the soft stench of dry crusting blood whenever the wind changed and lifted his shirt.

Tomorrow then. He would see to it tomorrow.

Cree joined them at the table soon, passing out keys to various rooms. She explained that she had bought out the entire 2nd floor for them. A room each.

Lucien was startled but relished the prospect of a night to himself.

*Just how much coin do these people have?*

As the drinks and steaming bowls of broth were polished off, the party dissolved into talk.

Cree had pushed Lucien into the seat at the head of the table, (it was still right next to the fire so he did not mind,) but it was to her that the group now paid heed. Plans were forming. New ideas, locations and transport across the sea.

Lucien listened ,trying to take it all in. But his eye was soon drawn by an older man sat at a table alone by a window. His beard was tucked into his belt, and while nursing a large mug of ale the man played with a deck of cards.

Lucien felt something whisper at the back of his mind.

*’Anyone have coin for a fortune?’*

The man grunted, reshuffling the cards and laying them out.

7 rows, the top of each facing up.

The man slurped his drink and began moving a couple of the cards.
Lucien watched him for a long time, while the group at his own table carried on their discussion.

They had all been decent towards Lucien. He had already earned a grand deal of respect before his death, it seemed. If he stumbled, every one of them came to assist him. If a threat was spotted, all closed ranks around him.

But none of them seemed to confide in him, or expect the tiefling to confide in them.

Conversation was strictly on plans, goals, tracking their progress as they journeyed ever closer to whatever goal it was they had.

Lucien had asked Cree once, and she had told him. But with such a look on her face.
She thought he should remember. She was disappointed that he did not.

So Lucien had faked it. A short smile. A nod. Those had been all he required to settle that piteous look in feline eyes.

He had not asked again.

The tavern was fairly quiet. The evening drew on, darkness swallowed up the window panes. More drinks were brought, and as the waitress moved away, Lucien called her back.

His tongue was looser now, and thanks to the good food and hearty wine, he could speak a little more freely. His voice did not grate so much like sandpaper as he did so, anyway.

“Could you bring me...” He had to pause to rasp for a breath, “Something ridiculous. A concoction. Amaze me. Make me forget where I am.”

The girl gave the tiefling a perplexed look, but nodded and said she was sure she could find him something. She returned a few minutes later, beaming, and passed Lucien a glass of a liquid which seemed to be at once bright fluorescent pink and a rich tar-like black.

“Well, this is... certainly... what I asked for.” Lucien felt the smile break across his face. He thanked the girl, and sat back in his chair, tipping two of the legs off the floor.

He sipped.

It tasted like spices and candy.

As the waitress settled back to the bar, Lucien noticed Cree’s eyes on him.

“What?” He asked, shortly.

“We need to get you out of those clothes.” She answered.

“I agree. I was thinking...” He trailed off as a coughing fit threatened to overtake him. “Thinking tomorrow, I could perhaps borrow enough coin to purchase new ones?”

Cree nodded.

“Of course.”

*So, it really was that simple then?*

Lucien was certain now, more than ever, that he held some high standing within this group. To be allowed to spend their gold on such nonessentials had to mean he was important.

But still, he decided not to ask. He was just too contented in that moment.

Cree was still watching him, suspiciously.

“Yes?”

“Lucien. You will buy sensible clothes, won’t you?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“I mean, you won’t be gallivanting around in anything –ridiculous?”

That last word caught at something in the tiefling. Like a snag of clothing caught on a rusty nail.

Was she throwing his own words back at him? Why?

“Oh no, I was planning on draping myself in...” A pause for breath, “-just a tapestry and parading around...” Another wheezing gasp, “naked.”
He had meant it to be scathing and sarcastic, but another tug sounded somewhere near his navel, and the tiefling found his mouth watering.

“Think they...” Another breath. “Have fruit platters?”

Cree narrowed her eyes.
“I expect so. Would you like me to ask for one?”

Lucien tried to answer, but another cough had him choking into his glass, and he could only nod.

*

The grapes were delicious. Lucien polished them off in quick succession and began on a tangerine. Peeling it felt so good after days with nothing to do with his hands. His nails were long. The tips had remnants of old varnish scrapings on them. The colour looked nice. Lucien decided he would have to find some more at the next opportunity.

Most of the group peeled off to go to bed over the next couple of hours. All in varying states of inebriation.

Cree offered to help Lucien upstairs, and soon he was closing the door into a shabby little bedroom.

Everything in it was brown. The floorboards, the chest of draws, the bedspread and the grimy window. Even the lanterns were grubby.

But it was private and it was warm.

Lucien made straight for the tub in the far corner and filled it with jug after jug of water.

He stripped off in seconds and lowered his body down into the bath.

It was bliss.

Utter bliss.

...

“What... in the nine hells... happened to me?”

It was an hour later.

Lucien had emerged from his bath, contented and clean, and found himself standing in front of a long rusted mirror on the wall beside the bed.

He stared and stared at the face reflected back at him.

He knew that face.

But the skin was changed.

He had been foolish, he decided, to notice the tattoos curving up his arms and not assume that there must be more.

But he would never have guessed there would be this many.

The tiefling dragged a couple of lanterns over and held them up, close to his cheek.

Feathers cascaded down the right side of his jaw, and as he tilted his chin up, he saw them arc down his throat and form into a bird, sitting perched on his shoulder.

*A peacock.*

*Literally*

*Why a peacock? Of all things?*

*It suits me.*

Lucien stared at the bird again, and this time he spotted the circle of red buried between some of the tail feathers.

The eye stared back.

Lucien gulped.

He spent the next 45 minutes examining himself intently in the glass. Making sure he had every detail of his new skin memorised.

He decided that he did not actually dislike any of the changes. Although the ink on his face was a touch too much perhaps.

Every piece held a story. Lucien only wished he knew what they all were.

He found all nine eyes in his search. All of them covered as best they could be by more ink. Flowers, suns and moons, a pyramid. They all sat hugging him in their embrace. He only wished he knew why.

*Suns and moons.*

Lucien blinked.

He had caught a glimpse of such images a couple of weeks before. On that coat!

The coat Cree had flung away into the dirt and the snow.

The coat at his grave.

The two had to be connected, did they not?

*It’s my coat.*

*Cree didn’t seem to like it.*

*Of course not, because it’s –my- coat.*

The tieflings tail lashed out, angrily. He wanted that coat back.

But it shouldn’t matter. Not now. He was alive, that was all that mattered. Surely?

He had Cree, he had this group. He had-

Well, not quite ‘friends,’ but he had company. That was good.

*I had friends.*

*Who?*

*Nein.*

*Nine?*

Lucien scrubbed the towel through his hair. It hung very long and very straight now it was washed.
He hoped the curls would bounce back once it dried. He rather liked the feel of them, springing against his cheeks.

Suddenly, the tiefling was not the least bit sleepy. He decided to head back down to the bar and sit up a while beside the fire. That should dry his hair.

He eyed the clothes he had discarded, strewn about on the bedroom floor.

They did not look appetising.

It was even worse now, seeing them from the outside.

A white shirt, torn apart by whatever had given him that god-awful scar deep inside his chest, was all-over contaminated with old dark blood.

Lucien had absolutely no desire to put that thing back on ever again.

The jacket was not too bad. The sleeves were mottled with splashes of crimson, but it was otherwise mostly undamaged.

It was an odd garment, the more he looked it over the more he saw.
Spiral patterns of red on orange. Crisscrossing lines in green. Stripes in so many colours Lucien could barely count.

*Be the chaos you want to see in the world.*

“Ha! Isn’t that the truth.”
He spoke aloud, coughing back a laugh as he picked up the jacket and slid it on.

Of course there were no buttons.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at the patterned leggings lying half inside-out next to the bath tub.
He ought to have called them ‘obnoxious.’ He felt the word coming, too. Felt it creep along his tongue, ready. But...

They weren’t so bad. They had charm, if you liked. Yet more stripes, of course, and if he had that amount of real diamonds he could buy his own clothing shop. They were bloody too. Less so than the
shirt, thankfully, but still. Brownish-red trickles of the stuff had soaked down into them.

*It must have hurt a lot.*

*Yeah, it did.*

Well, he had no other option, so back on they went.

At least the smell was dampened now. The shirt had been the main culprit. Now the air under Luciens nose was sweeter, cleaner, calmer.

He pulled on the boots too, unwilling to walk around a grimy tavern barefoot.
These were very nice. Tall, high and cut in all the right places. Yes, these boots could stay.

And the jacket too, now he came to think of it.

But he was definitely getting a new shirt to go underneath it.

...

The bar was even quieter than when they had left it. Most of the patrons likely asleep on the upper floors, or had headed back home into the town.

The fire was still blazing merrily though, and Lucien headed straight for it, standing close with his tail flicking lazily in the air.

Crimson eyes trailed around the room. It was cosier than he had first thought. Perhaps being warm and comfortable made your perspective on such things shift. The bar was clean now. The waitress and cook were standing idly in the doorway to what must be the kitchens, chatting softly. A couple of gnomes sat deep in conversation over a battered old map, at a table by the door. The old man was still sat playing cards by the window too.

Lucien walked towards him.

The man was humming to himself, tapping a pile of cards as he scanned the current set-up. Lucien recognised the game. You had to get the cards into numerical order, but without matching the colours. A red 5 must only sit between black 4 and 6, then a red 7 and so on. This gentleman was doing well, over half the cards had been matched up, but he seemed a little stuck now, with no next move.

“They say solitaire is a game for the death obsessed.” Lucien said.

“Eh?” If he was startled by the interjection, the old man recovered promptly. Crinkled hazel eyes spun to look at the tiefling, raking over the bare chest, horns, ink and many many nasty scars.

“There's an inevitability to every hand,” Lucien continued, sitting down in the chair opposite and leaning over to get a better look at the game. “Most of them are doomed from the start no matter what you do.”

“Eh, is that so?” The man scratched his chin through the lengthy beard and tapped the pile of upturned cards. “Bit like life, hey? Doomed from the start.”

“If you like.” Lucien took a card, sliding it over the polished wood to better see the face of the Jack of Clubs.

“You look like you seen the shitter end of life, you do.” The man took a large gulp from his tankard. “Amazing you’re still up and walking about.”

Lucien laughed. It brought on another coughing fit, but it was well worth it.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He grinned.

*Neither do I.*

“Fancy a hand then?” The man had gathered all the cards together and as Lucien passed back the Jack, he nodded.

“Certainly. You may have to teach me though. I’m a little rusty on, well… Everything.”

*

Chapter Text

Chapter Three- New Clothes and Old Memories

.

The hood was lined with heavy fur, and Lucien burrowed into it, pulling the material closed tight around his face so he looked out at the world through a narrow slit.

It made it easier to keep on walking without catching Cree’s eye.

Lucien was not holding onto her for support anymore. He was suffering for it, but refused to admit anything.

He had argued with Cree the day they had left the small town.

He was still not sure what had started it.

They had ventured into the town looking for new clothes. All good so far.

Lucien had spotted a pair of red leggings in a shop window and urged Cree to come inside.

Perhaps she had shown a touch of resentment then?

Nonetheless the tabaxi had followed him into the shop.

Like the town itself, the clothing store had been small. But it held a riot of colour, and Lucien had taken no time at all selecting the three items he desired.

A pair of those red pants. Which, it turned out, had little golden details swirled into them. He had seen the tabaxi scowl as she noticed this too.

A black shirt. This at least, Cree seemed to take no issue with.

And a heavy-duty winter hood. Lucien chose it for the hidden motif of flowers in the lining. There was no point in buying anything so extravagant as the coat they had abandoned at his grave site. The elements would destroy it this far north. But Lucien found himself clammering for intricacies and patterns.

He did not wish to be a walking shadow, leaving no impact or impression on the world.

Cree, however, took the opposite opinion.

She had flat-out refused to even let him try the things on at first.

She had insisted that he get plainer, simpler, darker clothing.

Lucien had assumed that she must be worried about them being noticed. But that tug in the back of his mind told him that was not her only motive.

*She doesn’t want to be reminded.*

*Of what, my death? How would some new clothes remind her of my death?*

Then the voice inside of Lucien said something rather alarming.

*Because I lied to her, when she met me. She thought I was you.*

Lucien grappled with himself. What on earth was that supposed to mean?

He had thought of this inner conversation as just a way to rationalise his own musings, a way to work out how he felt and log away information as it came to him.

But that answer had not been of his own making...

Lucien must have had an awful look on his face, because Cree had simply thrown a coin purse at him and stormed out of the shop to wait, hissing at him,

“Do whatever you bloody well want. But I will make sure you never go off-track again.”

.

What she had meant by that, Lucien hadn’t yet worked out. He refused to ask her though.

He was finding it easier and easier to not say anything at all.

And harder and harder not to continue just talking to himself.

Days on end trekking through the snow made it more difficult.

Lucien was always the centre of the party, walking steadily alone as they all kept pace around him.

The tiefling had the nagging suspicion that they were deliberately slowing to match his speed.

*Let them.* He thought. *Let them, if I’m so damned important to them, they can slow the hell down to walk with me.*

...

Another fortnight passed. Then another.

It had now been well over a month since Lucien had been resurrected.

He was walking mostly fine now. His body was stronger, his limbs no longer screamed at him if they walked for more than an hour. His new clothes were keeping the heat in, and the healthier the tiefling got, the more he realised he had a natural warmth about him after all.

The frozen north was still just that though. He was not about to make good on his quip and start waltzing around naked.

The idea did not appal him as he was certain it used to though.

That was weird.

In fact, the more Lucien existed in this new lease of life, the weirder he began to feel.

He was having dreams that did not feel like dreams at all. He awoke and could recall every detail.

They started with dirt. Dark dank earth in his face, his nose, his mouth. That smell, too. The same smell he had breathed in when Cree and the rest had brought him back. Lucien was now almost positive that he had been revived before. Somehow. Somewhere. He had awoken buried underground and had fought to claw his way out. He knew it was true. It was not just a nightmare. It was his past. It had to be. It had to be.

The next dream had seen him break the surface of a world he knew that he recognised. Alone still. So alone. The brightness had dazzled him just as it had a month ago. But it was a different sun. A different grave. A different Lucien.

After that, he had welcomed the dreams every night. Turning in early when he could. Sleeping for as long as he could manage before the group had to move on.

Cree suspected.
She was pushing them harder and harder. They had not set up camp much before 8pm for the last few days, and she always insisted that Lucien took the first watch with her, under the guise of wishing to talk. But they never did. She sat in stony silence while Lucien stoked the fire and daydreamed of the world he had once inhabited.

Once or twice, Lucien had let slip some fraction of his dreams.

When he had started seeing visions of a Circus tent, a swirling mass of technicolour and lights and glitter, he had absentmindedly mentioned it over breakfast.

The entire group had stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

Cree had slammed down her bowl and shouted that they needed to get ready to set off.

Lucien had looked around wildly, but no one came to his rescue. The tabaxi had rounded on him, glaring daggers straight into his soul.

“No more about the bloody circus.” She snapped. “You are Lucien. You are our Lucien. We are so close. Do not- do not... Not now. No more!”
Then she had turned on her heel and began collecting her things.

They had not spoken for nearly a week afterwards.

But Lucien could not stop. His dreams were tantalizing. They ate away at his questioning mind, and with every one, he felt that he grew closer and closer to an answer.

He had seen creatures great and small, put names to faces that he was sure he recognised although in dreams he was introduced for the first time.

Gustav, a lanky elven man had rolled up into Luciens dreams soon after the circus lights. He seemed kind. Lucien only wished he could speak, but in sleep all he could utter was one word.

“Empty.”

That puzzled him nearly the most of all.

Was he empty?

Was that what these dreams were trying to tell him?

*Am I empty?*

*I was. But not anymore.*

The voice in his heart was speaking again, and so often Lucien knew that it was not him. Not he himself.

There was somebody else in him.

He was almost certain.

...

‘Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities!’

That name was scrawled in huge looping letters across the entrance.

Lucien looked up, wiping sweat from his brow. They had just finished hammering in the last long pegs, securing the big top for another run.

His breath caught in his lungs as he read the name.
He had never been able to before. But this time, this night. He repeated it over and over in his mind. ‘Fletching and Moondrop.’ ‘Fletching and Moondrop.’

He would remember. He would remember and when he awoke he would remember too.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder. It was huge but gentle. A giant of a woman was standing beside him, looking up at the tent with a small smile.

“You did really good.” She told him. “Would you like some food?”

Lucien tried to say, ‘What is your name?’ but all that came out was,

“Empty...”

The woman took it in her stride.
“Me too.” With a kind nod, she turned Lucien about and lead him over to a group of carnival folks who had set up a fire pit and dinner.

Lucien sat in contented silence while the chatter raged on all around him.

They all understood his lack of speech, but never left him out.

A young dwarven girl had made it her mission to explain every single thing she could think of to the mute tiefling. Lucien realised that a long time ago he may have seen this as a nuisance, but not here.
Not now. He enjoyed her company perhaps the best of all.

She was sat behind him on the grass, having already finished her own food. While Lucien ate, she braided flowers and leaves into his hair, picking up each and showing it to him first.

“Leaf.” She said, slowly, spinning the star-shaped greenery around in her hand. “They fall from trees, look-“
She pointed to a canopy of branches just off beyond the fire.

Lucien followed her finger and nodded.

“And these,” she went on, plucking another flower from the ground and showing him, “are daisies! Do you like them?”

Lucien picked the little flower out of her hand and looked at its pale petals shimmering in the firelight.
He nodded, smiling as he passed it back.

“He’s so sweet!” The dwarven girl cried, weaving the daisy into his hair and appealing to the giantess sat beside them both. “Don’t you think we should name him?”

“Gustav says he is getting something sorted.” The woman assured the girl.

“But he needs a name! We can’t just keep calling him ‘empty’!”

Lucien agreed. More than ever he wanted to tell these people, to have them realise, to have them know.

My name is Lucien.

But still, he could not speak.

He knew then, as he had all along, that this life was one he had lived before. But not like this. The mind he had existed in then had truly known nothing of him. Not his name, not his past. Nothing.

When this had been his life. Lucien truly had been ‘Empty.’

...

Chapter Text

Chapter Four- Eyes and Names

This day was a better day. A much better day.

Cree had jostled over to walk beside Lucien again, as they trudged even slower than usual. The snowy mountain pass was steep. The wind bit at their backs, and everyone was reduced to half of their normal speed.

This suited Lucien, who enjoyed the leisurely pace far better. Everything felt like such a rush, it was pleasant to take things a little gentler.

“Look.” Cree had begun. Lucien had listened at once, looking over to her through the fur of his hood.
“I meant what I said before. I will do anything to stop you from going off track. But... Whatever happened is done now. I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Lucien was confused.
“What happened..?”

Cree was staring fixedly up ahead as she went on.
“We’re getting closer. And I just worry sometimes that you... That you’re still... But you’re not. You’re you. You are Lucien. Nonagon. You remembered me. You remembered us. So, that’s all that matters. You’re going to bring about the impossible. You’re going to change everything! I am just... Honoured to be by your side in all of this. I am only sorry that I did not get to you sooner.”

“Sooner?” Lucien asked.

“If I had known. If I had not been so foolhardy. If they had just TOLD me that you were... But no. They left you in the snow and I had to find out months later. Months! I could not believe it! I set off straight away, I promise you. Of course The Gentleman wasn’t too happy but what did that matter? What did any of it matter if I could get you back with us again?”

Cree was rambling and Lucien was trying to piece together everything she meant. But one thing had suddenly become abundantly clear.

“Cree. How long was I dead?”

The tabaxi blinked.
“Which time?”

*I knew it!*

*I’ve been trying to tell you.*

*Just shush a moment, let me work this out.*

“How many times have there been?”

Cree sighed. “As far as I know, two.”

Well, that seemed to fit.

“Alright... So, how about the first time?”

The snow was denser the further they pushed up this slope. But the summit was coming into view.

“Nearly three years.”

Lucien stopped walking. Partly out of shock, and partly because the party had come to an abrupt halt as they worked their way through a particularly heavy snowdrift.

“I was dead for THREE YEARS?!”

“I thought so.”

“What does that mean?”

“I believed you were buried in the ground where we laid you. I believed the ritual had failed. Lucien, we all believed it! You had told us, remember? If anything were to go wrong, I was to disband everyone and go our separate ways. It was your plan, we just did as you told us. But...”

She seemed to wrestle with herself.
“But then I saw you again. In Zadash, and I thought... I thought we had gotten it all wrong. You seemed to know me. You spoke of things I thought only you could have known but... When I thought of it again, it seemed such an obvious ploy. You –no, I am sorry, it was not you at all- Your imposter played along but allowed me to do all of the talking. All he had to do was agree with me and ask the right questions. Oh, I was stupid.”

Lucien pressed a hand to her back.
“You are far from stupid.”

The tabaxi smiled.
“There is that old charm. I knew you would return.”

Sensing the air had changed between them somewhat, Lucien pressed her a little further.
“You said you found out I was dead. Was that the second time?”

Cree nodded, as the group began to push forward once again through the bitter cold.
“They left you by the side of that road. It was not right. It was not... You deserved... But I found you. I found you and we brought you back and now you are with us again. And we are going to succeed. You, Nonagon, will triumph.”

She spoke with such conviction that Lucien found himself grinning. It only grew wider, and more determined as they trekked on through the snow.

A sudden feeling of unease swept over the tiefling. He was not so rattled that he stopped smiling, or indeed walking.

But something felt different.

Like he was being watched.

Cree was moving ahead of him now, and even through the gathering wind he could see the back of her hood. She was not looking his way.

He supposed it could be any of the others, but did not turn to check.

He was filled with an intense sense of purpose now.

He was Nonagon. He was going to change the world.

...

((A long way away, beside the empty grave on the Glory Run Road, a blue tiefling girls eyes snapped open.))

...

Lucien snapped his fingers.

“Excellent!” Cree clapped her hands together as the spell faded around them.

“I had no idea...” Lucien breathed, staring down at his right hand. The twin red eyes were pulsing, glowing fainter now but still unmistakably white.

“You can do so much, Nonagon.” Cree stood beside him, watching as the eyes slowly changed back to scarlet. “So much. We will practice. Every day. Until you remember it all.”

Lucien hugged her.

“Thank You.” He mumbled into her soft fur. “Thank you for helping me.” Without really knowing why, Lucien reached up and planted a gentle kiss to Cree’s forehead. “Thank You.”

The tabaxi seemed taken aback. She patted the tiefling on the arm, but drew away as soon as he slackened his grip.

“Everything alright?” Lucien asked.

“Fine.” She was lying, and they both knew it. “Get some rest.”

Lucien plonked himself down next to the fire, watching the night gather itself in all around the cavern mouth. It was no tavern, but it was enough to stave off the bitter winds that had lashed at any exposed skin all day.

He was no sure how to feel anymore. He had been so thrilled to have felt purpose again. So delighted to have Cree back on speaking terms. So happy to have finally pieced something together. But now...

He examined the snake curled down onto his hand.

Had he really attempted to cover up his nine eyes?

*Yes.* Came the reply.

*But why, though?*

*Because they’re damn ugly and creepy to boot.*

That made Lucien snort. It was true.

*Who are you?* He asked the voice in his heart.

*I don’t remember.*

*Then I will find out, for the both of us.*

Then it came again. That unmistakable feeling of being watched. It was like a tickle at the back of his neck. A whisper on the air.

Lucien ignored it. They would grow bored of looking at him soon enough. He was almost certain it was Cree. He stared into the flames, pondering.

*I lived, then I died, then I lived again. Then I died a second time and here I am, back alive once more.*

He found himself muttering quietly to himself then,

“I like this person, right now. A good person. A happy...”

But he broke off. He had said those words before. To somebody. To several somebodies.

*Nein.*

*No.* He corrected the voice. *There was maybe 5 of them. Not nine.*

*No. Nein.* The voice insisted.

Lucien threw another log on the fire and tossed himself down onto his makeshift bed for the night.

He hoped very much that more dreams would come. More circus tents and dwarven girls braiding his hair. More soft smiles from a woman seemingly too gargantuan to be so gentle.

“A happy person...”

Lucien drifted into sleep.

...

“Yasha! Yasha he’s done it!”

“Done what, Toya?”

“He’s so clever! Look!”

The giantess came striding through the sand and straw of the arena towards where the tiefling sat perched on top of a glittery plinth with Toya.

Toya. That was her name! The little dwarven girl was Toya!

*Yes! I remember!*

Lucien looked up with gleeful eyes as a mass of dark and light hair fell over his shoulder.

This then, was Yasha. The giant woman. Strong and sweet and finally with her name.

*Yasha.* Lucien repeated. *Yasha and Toya.*

“Very impressive.” Yasha was resting her chin on Lucien as she looked down at his lap.

Lucien looked too and realised with a great jolt to the heart that he was holding something deep crimson, embroidered with moons, suns and other sigils.

*My coat!*

“We finished it!” Toya was squealing beside him. “He’s gotten ever so good! Look, this was the last one and he did it all by himself!”

She was pointing at a large moon on the back of the coat. It would sit high, just beneath the shoulder blades. The embroidery was not perfect. There were stray threads here and there, and one half was definitely thinner than the other, but the tiefling did not care. He had done it! He had made something!

“Try it on, try it on!”
Toya had jumped to her feet, taking the needle from Luciens hands and waving the bottom of the coat in the air.

Yasha stepped back from the tall cylinder they were sat on and offered Lucien a hand to get down. He took it, and soon was standing in the circle of light filling the arena.

“Go on!” Toya egged him on.

Lucien swung the coat around his shoulders, slipping his arms through the holes. It fitted him like a glove.
He spun on the spot, admiring every angle, delighted that he could see it now without the dirt and snow masking most of it from his view.
Most of the symbols were related to various deities. He recognised the majority but couldn’t put names to most anymore. There were flowers and patterns and a marvellous jumble of just... Things! It was quite mad. And quite perfect.

“That is quite an outfit you’ve got there.” Yasha said. She was smirking, but it was not unkind.

Lucien beamed.

“Tha-nk-you.” He stuttered.

Toya screamed and whooped.
“He said THANK YOU! He said THANK YOU!”

Yasha for her part looked stunned.

“You are very welcome.” She told him.

“What’s all this?”
Gustav had pushed his way through the tent flaps to join the merry scene.

“He said THANK YOU!” Toya cried again. “He’s talking! And we finished his coat! Look!”

She turned eager hopeful eyes up to the tiefling.
“Can you say it again? Thank You?”

Lucien couldn’t help but smile fondly down at her, as he repeated,
“Tha-n-k-y-you.”
It felt not too dissimilar to when he had awoken with Cree 2 months ago. His throat so dry and unused. His voice failing him at every opportunity. No wonder this version of himself had taken so long to speak.

The lanky man, who Lucien noticed now he got a proper look- must be only half elven- was nodding his head as he came towards them.
“Very impressive.” He walked around Lucien, eyeing the new coat. “Give me a twirl then?”

Lucien obliged with great gusto, even finishing with a low sweeping bow.

“We’ll make a performer out of you yet.” Gustav chuckled. “And here. I’ve got you something.”

He took Luciens hand and pressed a scroll of parchment into it.
“Welcome to the family.”

“What is it, what is it, what is it?!” Toya was excited all over again. She wobbled on her tip toes trying to see as Lucien unfurled the paper and read;

‘Documentation for Mr. Mollymauk tealeaf. Promoter on behalf of Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities.’

“You gave him a name?” Yasha had read the page too, and now looked to Gustav, who grinned.

“I thought that ‘empty’ might have been something of significance. Or rather, M.T, you see? Perhaps it is nothing at all, but on the off-chance that he was trying to tell us something, I took a shot in the dark.”

Toya was more concerned with tugging on Luciens elbow.
“Moll-y-m-a-uk. Can you say that? It’s your name!Can you say M.T? Can you?”

“Empty...” Lucien repeated, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Great! But can you say Mo-ll-y-m-a-uk?” She sounded it out slowly for him as she did with everything else.

The tiefling swallowed and tried again.
“Mol-mol-molly...”

“That’s it!” The little girl was giddy with excitement. “That’s you. You’re Molly!”

*Mollymauk*

*Yep.*

*Mollymauk Tealeaf.*

*That’s my name.*

*Molly to my friends.*

“And we’re friends now, aren’t we.”
Back in the cavern in the snowy wilds, the lavender tiefling woke with a start.

***

Chapter Text

Chapter 5- Shouts and Whispers

“And you didn’t think that was IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO TELL ME?!”

Lucien was shouting. Cree was shouting back. Every eye was on the raging pair as they stormed around the cavern, narrowly avoiding stamping out the campfire, which now lay forgotten.

“I did not think it would MATTER!” The tabaxi hurled at him. “Now that you are yourself again, why should whatever that imposter got up to be of any consequence?!”

Lucien screamed so loudly that a cloud of birds in a tree by the cave mouth took flight in alarm.

“Three years, Cree! Three YEARS! I existed for THREE YEARS and you just wanted to brush it under the rug?!”

“Yes.”

Her bluntness caught everyone in the cave off guard.

“Yes, of course I did. Do you think I enjoyed seeing that obnoxious fool swaggering around wearing your face? At the time I was just so blinded by hope that I never stopped to question... But no matter. When I knew the truth I was outraged! He was wearing your skin, Nonagon! Your skin! That he had so brazenly graffitied with his own nonsense! I mean, look at you! See what he has done to you! I’ve seen you changing; it’s all over you! Silly pictures trying to blot out your powers! But they would not take ink, I bet.”

Lucien had buried knuckles into his closed eyes, drawing in a long deep breath.

“This is what you warned me of? This is what you said I would not like, when I asked you what happened to me?”

“Yes.” Again her honesty shocked him.

“Then why did you hide it?”

Cree stepped over the dwindling pile of firewood and came to a stop directly opposite from Lucien. The fire crackled and sparked between them.
“Because whoever stole your body is dead. Gone. Dusted out on the Glory Run Road. They no longer matter to the world. You are back with us. Telling you would only have brought frustration and pain. I chose not to elaborate.”

Lucien lowered his hands. They thudded dully into place by his hips and he remained motionless where he was.

“Mollymauk.” He said. “His name is Mollymauk. He is far from dead, and he matters to me.”

Cree let out a noise something like a howl of rage permeated by a growl like a tiger.

In one bound the tabaxi was face to face with the tiefling, striding forwards and driving him back until with a dull thud and a jingling from Luciens many horn accessories, he was slammed into the hard stone of the cave wall.

“Listen to me.” Cree hissed. Narrow feline eyes twitched as she stood nose to nose with her leader. “You are Lucien. You are the Nonagon. You died and now you are back. That is it. Full stop. I did not spent so long tracking everyone down and bringing you back, only to be thwarted at the final hurdle by the memory of some carnie!”

They were both breathing very hard by this point.

“Alright.” Lucien said quietly. “Alright. I understand. I am not ungrateful for everything you’ve done. But things are different this time. I cannot control it. He exists, he is here in me. But... knowing him is not going to help me now. I will make more effort to focus on the present. On you. I promise. But...”

The tiefling straightened up, shifting his spine off the rocky wall.
“Cree, is there anything else you have not told me?”

There was a silent pause.

The tiefling waited.

“No.” Cree was looking right at him. She did not blink, she did not shrink. She stood her ground.

Lucien believed her.

“Alright. Then, I am going back to sleep.” He made to move past her, but a furry hand caught his arm and held him back.

“You are ours, Nonagon. And we are yours. This is where you belong. Here, with us.”
There was very nearly a note of pleading in her voice.

Lucien nodded.
“I know.”

*Do you, though?* The voice asked, as he settled back down under the cloak again.

*Yes.* Lucien insisted. *I am here now. I am with this group. I am where I belong. That’s the truth of it.*

*Never trust the truth.*

*What?*

*The truth is vicious. The truth thinks you owe it something.*

*I do owe something. I owe these people. I owe Cree.*

*What do you owe them?*

*A leader! The Nonagon! They are going to-*

*To what, make you live forever?*

*Yes.*

*And that’s what you want?*

*Yes.*

*Terrific...*

*What’s your problem?*

*Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, Lucien- I’m here with you. I’m along for whatever ride you drag us on. So if you live forever, that means I will too.*

Lucien swallowed and rolled over.
*I am sorry.* He whispered inside his head. *I am sorry that you-*

*That I exist?*

*Well... Yes, in a way.*

*Charming.*

*Look, I never asked for some random person to come along and steal my body.*

*Borrow. I borrowed it, really. And it was hardly my choice. I just woke up in the ground. No names, no anything.*

*I know.*

*It wasn’t all fun, you know.*

*I know.*

*I was quite happy being dead, then all of this mess had to happen.*

*Do you remember what it was like?*

*Being dead?*

*Yes.*

*Not much. Kinda peaceful, I think.*

*That must have been terribly boring for you.*

*Was that a joke, Lucien?*

*Perhaps.*

*Well, there’s hope for you yet! Try another. Baffle me, go on.*

*Our life.*

The voice inside his heart began to laugh. Lucien felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

*I’m going to try to sleep now.* He thought. *Do you think we will see anymore tonight?*

*I think so. It’s all coming back in bits and pieces. I’d like to remember some more.*

*I would like to see it.*

*Go on then. Goodnight Mister Nonagon*

*Goodnight, Mollymauk.*

...

Chapter Text

Chapter 6- Being Watched.

“Alpha to alpha, see? We must trek to the other before anything can be properly begun.”

Lucien sat in silence, concentrating hard.

Cree had taken a lot of time with him as they travelled on. He was beginning to understand everything, although the complications were still vast and somewhat unknown. There was a definite plan. A real reason for the work the group had put in.

“Then once we have found the place, we can perform it. We are all ready. We are all behind you, Nonagon. We will succeed this time.”

The Tomb Takers. He knew their name now. It clicked into place in his mind as soon as Cree had told him.

He knew so many things. They were all stored safely away in his soul. It just required the right keys to unlock them.

Lucien was more powerful now, too.
He could deflect the enchantments Cree threw, and was getting a sense of the magic around him. He could almost taste it. Ripples of energy, gusting through the air. It was a commanding feeling.

“Right, enough for today.” Cree was rolling up her parchment, stowing it away in her large backpack. “Not far to go now, then we will be at Balenpost. We will need to keep you hidden.”
Lucien nodded that he understood.

Mollymauk had been oddly quiet through all of this. A small part of Lucien didn’t care. He wanted more than anything to focus. To get back to full strength, whatever that was.
But the majority of him missed the cheerful lilt in his head.

They had nearly the same voice, he had realised. The subtle differences had not struck him at first, when he had believed it nothing more than his own mind parroting back to him. But now that he knew, the inflections were stark and clear. Mollymauk was softer, rounded at the edges but with a barb of wit which lit the tiefling up like ice.
Lucien wanted his company. He did not think he could bare this world alone.
Cree and his followers were loyal, doggedly supporting him even though they must know he still had so much to re-learn. But loyalty was not intimate. Loyalty could be bought, swayed, changed with the wind. It did not bring people together to share secrets beside the fire at night. No one asked how his chest felt, with the humungous tear still taking its sweet time to scar over.

The tiefling had seen so much in his dreams. Dancing and laughter. Sleeping under the stars and drinking until the world turned to fuzz. He had seen many many beautiful faces. All of them looking at him with such joy. It ached right through him.

But there was none of that out here in the snow.

Really, Lucien was quite on his own.

...

*Well, this is new.*

*Wait, you could not read?*

*Not when I was you, no.*

*How is that possible?*

*Ohhhh I dunno, maaaaaybe because I pulled myself out of the ground and ran away with the circus? Never had much time for learning the fine art of literature.*

*Sure learned how to chat a lot of shit though.*

*Naturally.*

Lucien set down the book on his lap and leaned back on his hands. He had borrowed the volume from Cree. It was thin and battered. An old text about a band of adventurers who had traversed the frozen North. It was not particularly riveting. It was not giving his mind the rest he had hoped for.

The sky above was inky black. It seemed to stretch on for millennia. And there were so many stars! He could not count more than 20 before his head went blurry.

“I wonder if they’re looking at the same sky.” He mused.

The words had left his lips before he got a chance to realise that he was saying them out loud.

Thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed.

The camp was hushed with snores. Most of the group were asleep.

Lucien glanced over to where Cree lay, pawing through her notes. She was so engrossed, he did not think she had heard.

He allowed his eyes to drift shut, feeling a cool breeze lap up his hair.

..

“I was going to ask if you read fortunes! Could you do one now?!”

Mollymauk laughed merrily.
“I knew you were going to ask that!”

.

Toya, where was Toya?

Mollymauk ran to scoop her up.

“Molly..?”

He couldn’t explain what had just happened. How could he tell her?

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna get you home.”

She was so small. So sweet. He held her as tight as he could.

..

*You got me arrested?!*

*Multiple times.*

*Mollymauk!*

*Oh come on, call me Molly. You’ve earned it.*

“Molly.”

“Did you say something?”

A voice called across to him.

*Shit.*

“No. No, you’re alright.”

Suspicious eyes lingered on Lucien for a while before turning back to keeping watch.

The tiefling sighed, shifting about.

Something felt off.

Like an itch pounding on his skull. He couldn’t shake it, nor place where it was coming from. It was growing irritating.

Lucien huffed. Lavender fingertips brushed over his horns..
He had kept most of the little details Molly had added.
The larger more noisy pieces were long gone though. He could not risk getting heard in a crucial moment because of sudden tinkling trinkets. But the smaller ones were just as pretty, and quieter. Those had remained.

Lucien fiddled about with a silver charm, twiddling it absentmindedly as he tried to hone in on what was making him feel so uncomfortable.

It was as though someone invisible were standing very near, breathing down his neck.

Suddenly the feeling intensified, persistent, clawing at him. Eyes. All the eyes on him. So many eyes.

“You can all stop gawking now!” Lucien snapped, sitting abruptly upright and glaring around their little camp.

Bleary faces poked out of blankets, the two on watch exchanged confused glances.

“Nonagon... Everyone is asleep. No one was looking at you.”

“I can tell!” Lucien tossed off his own blankets and rose to stand defiantly before the Tomb Takers.
“I can feel it, you know! I know someone is watching me!”

Cree was before him in an instant.
“You can sense someone is watching? Right now?”

“Yes!” Lucien sighed, exasperated. “And we are trying to sleep! So if you would all just kindly-”

“Nonagon, I need you to listen to me.” Cree spoke very fast. Two hands took his, warm fur pressed up close against his palms. “Concentrate. Hurry now. I need you to focus on not letting them in.”

“Not letting who in? What-”

Lucien’s first thought was of Molly.

“There isn’t time, now concentrate! Think of nothing, nothing at all, and close that window. It can help to picture it. See it. Close the window and step away. They cannot see if you do not let them.”
She was so alarmed, so suddenly full of worry and care that Lucien just did as she instructed.

He squeezed her hands and tried to let his mind go blank.

*A window. A window.*

Mollymauk provided.

The image of a tavern window, ablaze with warm lights.

“Close it.” Cree was repeating. “Do not let them see.”

Lucien thought hard. He saw the window, speckles of chipped glass and a worn wooden frame.

He imagined slamming it shut.

The warm lights died away.

The window descended into nothingness.

The prickling feeling faded.

Lucien let go of Cree.

“It’s gone. I don’t feel it anymore.”

The tabaxi pressed a hand to her temple and nodded.
“Good. That’s good. They probably did not see anything. If they did, it would not have been anything of use. Good.”

Lucien followed her as she went to sit down on a large log by the fire, dusting off the nights snowfall to make a space enough for them both.
“What was that?” He asked.

Cree spoke to him from behind her hands. He eyes were closed. She was apparently thinking very hard.
“It was a scrying spell. Someone was attempting to see what you are up to.”

“What?” Lucien was taken aback. “Like spying? Who would want to spy me?”

Cree shook her head.
“They must have been to the Glory Run Road. They could be mere days behind us. This is not good.”

She looked up suddenly and Lucien jumped.

“Have you felt that before?” She demanded. “Like someone were watching you? Have you felt this spell before?”

Lucien furrowed his brow.
“Yes.” He realised as he said it. “I have. A couple of times, I think.”

Cree groaned.
“When? What did they see? Do you remember?”

“Uh... I think they might have seen me walking with you. In the snow, weeks ago now. And-”

“Weeks?!” Cree echoed. “Oh no. Oh no, if they were checking up on you as long ago as that... They could be anywhere.” She patted his arm. “Go on. And the second time?”

“The second time was, I think... When we stopped in that cave for the night. I was just sitting by the fire. Nothing interesting.”

Cree was nodding again.

“Alright. Alright. This is fine. We can work with this. Were there any more times, anything you can remember?”

“Not that I noticed.” Lucien was feeling decidedly less powerful than he had been a few days previously.

Someone was spying on him and he hadn’t been able to fend them off. Suppose they were reading his thoughts too? Burrowing into his mind and worming out all of his secrets? What if someone managed to get at a memory he hadn’t been able to yet? What then?

“Teach me.” He turned to the tabaxi. “Teach me how to stop this happening.”

Cree drummed sharp talon-like nails on her knees.
“I can do that. But I have not seen them for a long time. For all I know, they could have us evenly matched by now...”

“Who?” Lucien asked, excitement digging away at his insides. “Who is trying to find me?”

Cree did not answer.

“Cree!” He shoved her briefly in his frustration. “Who is it?!”
He wanted that name. A name at last. A name he could put to a face, perhaps. Someone somewhere out there who was looking for him. Or for Molly. Or for them both.

The tabaxi swiped away his hand and dropped her voice to a low whisper.
“Alright, alright. Calm down will you.”

She seemed to be choosing her words very carefully.

Finally, she spoke.

Just two words.

“Vess DeRogna.”

...

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 - Ninth Run to Glory

This chapter is dedicated to @saberbullyy
...

Lucien was angry.

Vess DeRogna was the one to blame in all of this. She was the one who had been there. She had performed the first ritual. She had failed. She had killed him. She had left him buried in the dirt and she had left his body open for some new consciousness to stumble into.

Lucien did not blame Mollymauk.

Hell, he WAS Mollymauk.

That fact had come to be very clear, at least on his side of things. The other voice was not so certain.

But Lucien was of the belief that Mollymauk was as much a part of him as his horns and tail.

That thought did not make things any easier to handle though. His head was swimming, his mind ablaze with ideas, questions, fleeting glimpses of memories from a life he had not lived, and snatches of voices that warmed his soul but he saw no more.

It hurt.

Being two people hurt.

The tiefling felt as though his head may split in two.

Perhaps that would be easier.

For all the wonders and joy learning of his time as Mollymauk brought, when the visions were over all that remained was his own cold. His own rage. His own desperate longing.

Lucien tried to tell himself that he wanted to succeed in their plan. To become more than any before and to stand victorious above the world.

But...

...

“That person is DEAD and not ME. It’s just a person who had this body. They abandoned it. It’s mine now.”

*Do you really think that?* Lucien asked, as the dream faded into grey mist and he toed the line between sleep and waking.

*I did. Not so sure anymore.*

*I think you were right.*

*You do?*

*At the time, yes. I was dead, Molly. We both know that. I am... Glad that you came in my place. I am only sorry that you fell so fast.*

*That’s a very poetic way to say I took a massive bloody glaive to the chest.*

*Don’t, Molly.*

*Whaaat? It’s true!*

*I know, I can still feel it.*

Lucien had lived that dream eight times now. Eight nights, reliving the tale of Mollymauk come to a brutal abrupt end.

It hurt.

*It hurts.* He whispered to none but Molly.

*I know. I feel it too.*

*You do?*

*Yeah. Never really stopped.*

Slowly, still entranced in the cobwebs of sleep, Lucien moved a hand up to cover the biting scar planted dead centre of their chest.

*Know what you should do?* Molly said softly.

*What?*

*Get a tattoo. Cover it best you can. Make it beautiful. Make it better.*

*Leave every place better than I found it, hey?*

*Exactly. Including you.*

*You think I can be better?*

*I do. I know it.*

*Molly. I need to do something.*

*You want to kill Vess don’t you?*

*Yes.*

...

It’s so cold.

He’s shot through with it. Like ice in his veins.

The earth is cold. The grass is cold.

The blood thick on his chest is hot.

Hot. Pouring down his shirt.

He has a wild moment of thought. *Don’t get my damn coat bloody!*

Choking.

Hot. Hot blood in his throat.

Can’t breathe.

A hulking beast stood over him, as the tiefling felt his own shoulders sag.

He weighed himself down.

Down into the dirt.

A face warped with a grin. Leering close. Closer.

Blood. Hot. Hot blood. Boiling his throat.

No breath. No words. No air.

The tiefling spat it out.

A great rainbow of deep scarlet.
Splattered across a cracked smile.

“Respect.”

*Well, FUCK YOU TOO!* Lucien and Mollymauk thought in unison.

Then...

Blinding, blistering, rib-shattering pain.

His eyes never shut, but the world vanished.

Darkness swallowed them.

Down.

Down...

The ground was taking him back.

Swallowing him whole.

Lucien screamed.

Somewhere close by he heard Cree calling for him to wake up.

Mollymauk was gone.

Molly.

Molly.

Molly?

And the earth was claiming him back again.

...

“No no no!”

“Nonagon?”

He had to dig. He had to get out.

Not again! Not again, he could not do it again.

No air, no light.

Just dark dark earth suffocating, blinding, deafening.

He was lost.

Lost under the ground and no one would know.

No one would hear.

No one would come.

No one would help.

“Lucien!”

That memory was the worst. Always the worst.

It hurt and it killed and it buried him.

“Lucien, come on!”

“Molly...”
He spoke as though his throat were filled with glass shards.

“Lucien, wake UP.”

“MOLLY!”

Cree was shaking him now. Red eyes snapped open and he sat up, tearing off the blankets and cloak.

He needed to stand. Needed to be on his feet. Face this. Grasp it in both hands and not let go.

It was the ninth time the lavender tiefling had relived that particular memory.

“What is the matter?” Furry hands did not approach him. Cree spoke from where she knelt by the abandoned bed.

Every one of the Tomb Takers seemed to have come to the universal, silent realisation that they should stay back. Some had begun to rise out of their own bunks, others lay quite still. All were watching.

The lavender tiefling was shivering, despite this being the warmest the group had been in weeks.
The tavern allowed them to sleep cosily, each in a bed and not on the dirt.

Dirt.

Dirt and buried and gone.

The tiefling bit back a snarl from deep in his soul and focussed his eyes on something, anything that was not any of the faces staring at him across the bedchamber.

Red eyes found the little mirror hung lopsidedly above the tattered dresser.

Red eyes found violet curls.

Red eyes found horns decorated with delicate details and charms.

Red eyes found peacock feathers, curved like an embrace at his cheek.

Red eyes found red eyes.

It hurt.

It hurt being two people.

And the lavender tiefling wasn’t sure he wanted to be two people anymore.

...

Chapter Text

Chapter 8- The Undead and the Dead

He had to do something.

Something to make this feeling go away.

Something to regain control.

Something to shut up the raging silence in his head.

Something to bring it all back.

...

He should have done this weeks ago.

As soon as he knew that bitch was watching.

He was owed vengeance.

...

It was all so simple. Too easy, really.

The tiefling purred growls of satisfaction as he stood beneath the tavern window.

It would be a climb.

But it would be worth it.

The ice caught at his boots, but no amount of slips could halt his ascent.

The only thought left in the now oh so empty mind was

Kill Vess DeRogna.

.

Lavender fingers found the windowsill.

The tiefling smiled.

...

It was more than satisfying.

“You?!”

Her face was quite the picture.

“Did you miss me?” The tiefling spat.

“You were dead!”

“Yup. Now I’m back. Again. Again.” The tiefling waited for that voice inside him to pipe up with some quip or other, but all was quiet.

That just spurred him on.
“You did this to me. You made me like this. You fucked the whole thing up and now I don’t even know who I-”

But he stopped.

He was going to kill this woman. But still, best not to spill his guts to her just in case.

After all, he had come back.

Anything was possible.

The elven bitch was speaking.
“I did precisely as you requested, ‘Nonagon.’” Her lip curled at the mention of that name. “I performed everything you asked and it did not go according to your plans. That was not my doing.”

The tiefling flung out an arm and sent a stack of books toppling to the floor.
“You KILLED me!” He managed to keep his voice low, but the rage festering in his chest was threatening to break.

“You killed yourself.” Vess DeRogna jabbed back at once. “You are not the only one making attempts to reach the right location, ‘Nonagon.’” Again she spoke the name with distain. “In case you have forgotten, I am blessed by the Nine also.”

“The Nein?”

*The Mighty Nein?* The tieflings mind began to race.

*Does she know them?*

*Can I..?*

“It appears that death has done you a disservice.” The elf went on. “You are not the man I met, ‘Nonagon.’ And clearly you are not half as clever.”

The tiefling bared his teeth.

“What do you want, ‘Nonagon?’” Vess demanded. “I have nothing further to say to you, so I think it best that you-”

“Where is it?!” He hurled the question at her with such force, that Vess actually staggered.

“I am not giving it to you.”

She knew then. She knew what he was after.

“Give me the book.”

“No.”

“You stole it from me. I shall have it restored to me.”

“Go back into your grave, Lucien.” Vess DeRogna sighed. “You have had your chance. It is my turn now. And I shall succeed where you before me have failed.”

The tiefling was not sure how he did it.

All he knew was a huge surge of hatred and defiance, consuming his chest and his vision.

It burst out of him, exploding in the air as a thousand needles of ice.

And the tiefling charged.

He was on top of her in seconds, wrestling, scratching, infernal shouts ringing through his ears.

His voice.

Their voice.

They sounded as one now.

Lavender hands clasped at her throat.

He wanted to choke the air from her lungs. Make her words vanish into nothingness.

But something else happened instead.

Cold burned through him.

Great barbs of it wrapped around his torso, swelling in a tumult of power and hurt.

The tiefling knew his own magic, but this was something altogether brand new. He had never done this before.

Elven eyes were wide, clammering and desperate as she fought back tooth and nail.

“I am not going back in the dirt.” The tiefling promised her, as he felt a tidal wave of power shatter out of his palms.

Not 6 seconds later. Vess DeRogna lay dead on the bed.

Sat above her, the tiefling panted and wiped sweat from his brow.

A trickle of blood passed down his chest.

*No!*

Fumbling hands scrambled to cover the great scar, terrified that it was reopening, unhinging ready to cast him once more out of this body and this life and this world.

But the wound lay still.

He was bleeding, it transpired, from a thin slice at his neck.

Likely from the nails of his murderer.

The tiefling dismissed it.

He moved back on shaky legs, and sat on the edge of the bed, thinking.

*Well, I’ve done it. I’ve got what I wanted.*

He waited.

*Revenge. For me. For us. For this mess.*

He waited again.

“Molly?”

But there was no reply.

No warm chirrup lit up his heart. No sarcastic jokes. No anything.

*Empty.*

“No.”

*I must be.*

“No.”

The tiefling shook his head violently and stood up.

His eyes fell upon the body laying silent on the bed.

He jumped.

Beads of scarlet were pouring down the womans face.

Blood ran persistently racing tracks from her mouth, nose, eyes...

The tiefling took a tentative step closer.

*Nine eyes*

He blinked.

“No...”

Sure enough, nestled on the right hand side of the womans throat, sat a single red eye.

...

The tiefling tore around the room, searching methodically. Every scrap of parchment, every volume was checked. Some twice.

He did not look at the body on the bed.

He did not think about the other eight eyes he had found.

She mirrored him perfectly.

“It doesn’t matter. She is dead where she belongs. And I am here. I am here and I will find that book.”

He spoke as though certain someone would hear him.

He hoped one person could.

He had taken Vess's jewellery, of course. She had no further need of it, and he was growing ever more accustomed to fancy trinkets. He may sell most of it though.

Yes. He would probably sell it.

.

A warning flare pulsed from the eye at his collar, signalling that same familiar feeling of being watched.

But wait...

That could not be right.

Vess was dead.

Cree had made it sound as though she were the one hounding them. She had been the one scrying on him.

So then who..?

Intrigued, the tiefling dismissed the image of the window he had conjured up on impulse, ready to slam it shut.

Instead, he continued rifling through the book he had in his hands.

Who could be watching?

*Could it be them?*

*The Mighty Nein?*

Was it foolish to hope?

He straightened up, and turned to look behind him.

An orb hung in the air not ten feet from him. It glowed as it hung, brimming with magic.

A charming smile formed on his lips.

“Oh, well looky here. A return visitor.”

He wanted so badly to ask who they were. But something held him back.

Determined to keep their attention, he went on,
“Now, don’t go running.”

They must be just like him. Wanting answers.

“You’ve curiosity to sate, right?”

*Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities*

The tieflings heart ached.

He tried not to let it show, and continued,
“I take it you’re the one who’s been peeking recently?”

Of course they couldn’t respond.

“I have to thank you, for without your scent I wouldn’t have been able to follow her.”
And he had. It had not been hard, once he thought of it. Though he had presumed it was all coming from Vess herself.

But did that mean... They were close by?

Something inside him ignited.

“Now, don’t be alarmed.” He said this almost to himself more than anyone. “I see many things with nine eyes.”
It was true. Only now he understood just how much damage he could inflict if he so chose.

“I’ve been trying to watch this one’s path a while now, ‘til you found me.”
He had pursued Vess as soon as he was able. The want had driven him on through snow and ice. The want, the want to repay the debt of murder had stolen his every waking thought.

“I saw the threads and we made a detour.”
Cree had understood. She had wanted to go with him. But this was a task for him and him alone.

“Shame, really. All that knowledge and so little understanding.”
This was an outright lie. The tiefling knew better than anyone that he had much still to learn, and the fear stole upon him now that perhaps Vess had been correct. Perhaps he had always had no idea what he was doing.

Still, he did not allow his eyes to flick back to that bed.

Something lit up the edge of his vision.

Pages. Pages hidden in amongst other pages.

Pages he recognised!

A cover he knew all too well, now that he set eyes upon it!

The tiefling darted towards it and seized the book.

*It is mine.*

He spoke again, cradling the text in his arms.
“But you see, now things are set right.”

Now my killer is dead.

“Once more I have what she took from me.”

*I will not go back to the dirt.*

Satisfied at last, pulsing with ice and heat, the tiefling headed back to the open window.

He readied himself to spring out of it, ready to run and return to the Tomb Takers triumphant.

But...

What if it was them?

What if it were the Mighty Nein?

One of their number watching, hoping just like he had?

He had to give them a clue.

If it was them.

He had to know.

They had to follow.

He thought back to the maps Cree had shown him.

An idea formed.

The tiefling looked back to the sphere dangling in the middle of the room.

“To Alpha and Alpha we trek, ‘til homeward bound we be.”

He wanted to offer something. An invitation of sorts.
“Maybe we’ll see you there.”

*That is enough.* He decided.

One snap of lavender fingers, and the scrying spell was ended.

The tiefling jumped out of the tavern window.

...

Chapter Text

Chapter 9- A Better Person.

“You knew it was them?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been scrying on them?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cree shook her head.

“I do not need to explain myself.”

The lavender tiefling rolled his eyes.

“To me you do. Right now you do. This is MY life, Cree. MINE. I have a right to know who is chasing me.”

“What, so that you could turn tail and run right back to them?” Feline eyes narrowed as she snapped.

“That is my decision to make!”

“No. It is not. This is our path, Nonagon. This is the life you made. We are all with you, why do you not understand this? I was trying to help. If you knew they were looking for you, what would you have done? Tell me. Tell all of us.”

The tiefling stood stock still, surveying the watching group.

“I...”

*Molly, if you’re still in here, I could really use some help.*

“Exactly.” Cree was picking up her bag, they were all ready to depart. “There is nothing back there for you, Nonagon. You are not who they are looking for and they are certainly not going to be able to help us with this. Now, we are only a journey away from A5. We must get a move on.”

The Tomb Takers began to walk.

“But...”

No one turned back. They left the space in the centre of their midst, ready for him. But not one head turned to hear his plea.

*Let’s go.*

Was that Molly? Or was it just himself?

The lavender tiefling blinked rapidly several times, then began to trudge through the snow to catch up with his party.

...

They reached A5 sooner than Cree had predicted, but it did not give them any respite.

Much of their day was spent setting up, rearranging and then arranging again.

The tiefling had helped with what he could, but as the day wore on, he found himself asking Cree for something he had been thinking about ever since he spoke into the glowing orb back in Vess DeRogna’s bedroom.

Cree was not impressed.
“Why bother? Why do you insist on speaking to them? Teasing and taunting is all fun and games, but I see no further point in this.”

*...Because they know me.*

“Look, can you do it or not?”

Cree sighed, leaning her back against the cave wall.
“I thought you were insane to have spoken to them at all, but when you told me that you gave them information! You brought them here, you practically threw out the welcome mat! Nonagon, this is not wise. This is beyond teasing. This is-”

The tiefling cut her off.
“Can. You. Do it. Or. Not?” His tongue clipped every word.

The rest of the Tomb Takers were setting their packs down, spreading out around their section of the cavern, shuffling corpses and old ruined bedding out of the way.

The tiefling kept his eyes on Cree, waiting.

Eventually, the tabaxi seemed to decide to play along, if only to silence her companion for the time being.

“Very well.” She rubbed her hands together, preparing to concentrate. “Speak and I will make sure the message goes through.”

The tiefling came to stand directly in front of her, thinking fast as Cree began to cast the spell.

What to say? What to say..?

“I see them.” Cree informed him. “They’re close. Speak now.”

*Shit*

“Ah!”

*Horrible start, but here we go.*

“I’m so glad you decided to come.”

They were close. The Mighty Nein were close. This was too much for him to bare.

The excitement began to build. He couldn’t see, he was delirious.

Cree nudged him with her foot.

“We were somewhat worried I’d scared you off.”

*Please don’t hate me.*

*Just let me be him.*

The tiefling thought of the six faces now etched permanently across his mind. Every one of them had brought him joy, and he them in return. It was a world away, a lifetime away.

A lifetime not his.

*I wish none of this had happened*

He thought of Yasha. Was Yasha with them? He wanted to see her most of all.

*I wish we were back at the circus*

The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities.

He could see it. He could smell the straw of the ring, taste the booze around the campfire, he could see the cheering crowds.

He remembered juggling swords.

He remembered turning over card after card, bringing delighted smiles to some and shocked surprise to many.

*I wish I was back at the circus.*

The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities.

Something broke in the back of the tieflings throat and he whispered,
“It would seem curiosity always wins.”

He had to stop.

Cree stayed silent as the tiefling backed away.

He walked quickly to the cavern passage and swiftly along it towards the entrance.

The snow was settling. The winds dying down.

The Mighty Nein were close.

What would they do?

What could he possibly say to them?

*I wish none of this had happened*

Crimson eyes filled with tears, as the tiefling crouched over, hugging his knees.

*I wish I had just stayed in the dirt.*

...

“No I don’t.”

Mollys voice. That was Mollys voice!

Clear and solid. That was Mollymauk’s voice! Coming from his own lips! But it sounded so much like his own...

“I don’t wish I stayed in the dirt.”

*Molly?* Lucien thought inside his own head.

“The one and only.”

*What happened? I thought I had lost you.*

“Should have listened properly, silly. I’ve always been here.”

*You changed your mind on that then?*

“Yup. You were right. I’m as much a part of you as you are me. Although I maintain I was right to wanna stay as far away from your part of our story as possible.”

The lavender tiefling chuckled, wiping his eyes.

“Alright. That I will grant you. Very true.”

He drew in a deep ragged breath.

*That’s it.* Molly told him gently. *We got this.*

We.

The lavender tiefling knew now.

He understood what needed to be done, how he must try to live from that moment on.

Because the lavender tiefling could not be two people.

The lavender tiefling wanted to be better than that.

The lavender tiefling could forge a new person.

A better person.

A happy person.

A person without baggage, without dirt and death.

“I am Lucien.” The lavender tiefling said, in a voice somehow his and somehow Mollys too.

“And I am Molly.”

The snow and wind were his only listeners.

“I like my bullshit. And I am not going back in the dirt.”

.

After quarter of an hour, the lavender tiefling walked slowly back into the cavern.

He was oddly calm. At last, he felt on the brink of some kind of peace.

His reverie was short-lived.

The Tomb Takers were noisily scurrying about, and Cree was barking orders as he rounded the final corner into the depths.

Then, a new voice spoke right between his ears, and the tiefling stopped still in the shadows to listen.

“Why are you doing this? What do you even want from us?”

Jester!

It was Jester!

Her usual sunny demeanour was missing, though. She sounded upset and worried.

“We just miss you.”

The tiefling felt his chest constrict at those words.

*I miss you too...*

“I thought you were our friend.”

*I am your friend. I am Molly. I’m not just this...*

“Anyway, we’re here.”

Jester’s voice vanished, replaced by a feint buzzing.

Lavender hands flew to his mouth to stifle a sob. He could not break down, not now.

The buzzing remained, and the tiefling felt the pulse of magic reverberating with it.

*I can reply then.*

Instinctively, he blurted out-
“I don’t mean you any harm!”

Another sob threatened to overtake him, and he reigned it in, mumbling,
“I’m just... Pursuing my interests.”

He was still keenly interested in what they were trying to do.

But he was also very interested in The Mighty Nein.

How were they now? Were they all still alive?

Oh gods...Oh gods what if another of them had fallen?

He brushed that terrible thought aside, adding in a much stronger voice,
“And if you have similar interests, well, I’m inviting you to come along.”

Would the Nein want to see their work? Would they listen?

Or would they take one look at him and leave?

They would know he wasn’t the same.

But he was more.

He could prove that.

But they might not want some new version of their friend.

They wanted Molly back.

And the Lucien part of the tiefling was more than a little inclined to give him to them.

Panic seeped through him.

*They may well hate me...*

But they were here now. They were so so close.

Oh gods, they could be right outside!

The tiefling bit his lip.
“You... don’t have to.”

The spell faded.

He did not hear Jesters voice again.

...

Chapter Text

Chapter 10- Eyes of Nine, eyes of The Nein

“Shit!”

“What the hell, Cree?”

“Move!”

“Is this them?”

“Of course it’s not them, now move!”

The lavender tiefling was shoved through the narrow openings, hurried along new passages and eventually dragged around one final corner.

“Cree, what is going on?!” He demanded, as their group came into sight at the foot of two walkways curving down into a new chamber Lucien had not seen before.

“They got here first, we must fight!” Cree hissed into his ear, before she took off at a sprint to join the other Tomb Takers setting upon another group who had turned from the huddle they had been standing in to raise weapons.

*First?* Molly asked.

“This must be where...” Lucien looked around, scanning the chamber quickly until he spotted it.

“There.”

He stared up at the glint of blue nestled in the ceiling high above them.

*That’s a crest thing?*

“Yes.”

*So, those other people were here the whole time?*

“Must have been.”

*Guess we’re killing them then?*

“I think so. Who knows what they could be trying to do with it. It must be me.”

“Nonagon, HELP US!”
Cree was spiting at a woman pinning her against the far wall.

Something in the air changed when she called him that. The rest of the Tomb Takers almost flinched, though continued their fight.

Were they worried he would not help them?

“I come.”

And so he went. A rush of desire to prove himself rang in his ears, jamming his heart.

Lucien strode through the fighting figures, eyes fixed on one and one alone.

He could kill.

He had done it before.

He could make it hurt.

“Eyes of Nine...” The chant came to his lips without conscious thought.

Cree was kicking, clawing at the woman attempting to stab her.

“Eyes of Nine, grant me this. Eyes of nine... Eyes of nine...”

Power.
Innate, all-consuming, it burned beneath his skin. It tingled through his veins. It lit up his palms.

Red.

Red.

Red.

The Nonagon was ablaze with red. And as he held out a hand, reaching for the throat, every eye on his body throbbed.

*Destroy them and live forever.*

Lucien seized the woman, dragging her away from Cree with a snarl which rose from his throat like a raging beast.

*I can kill her.*

The woman kicked out, lashing in his hand.

*I am stronger than I thought.*

She was saying something. Words smeared into the air, shouts, pleas perhaps. He heard them through a haze of pulsing hate.

“DIE!” The command shattered the falling silence around the chamber. The others had finished the brawl. He was the last.

The woman screamed.

The Nonagon burst with red light.

The screaming stopped.

Whatever colour her eyes had been in life, now the sockets were awash with blood. Her mouth hung slack, dribbling crimson.

Then a noise broke the new silence.

A small stifled gasp from the entryway.

Lucien turned.

His stomach dropped.

The Mighty Nein had arrived.

Lucien dropped the dead woman. A slight ringing in his ears matched the soft juddering of his heart.
“My... apologies.” He had to say something.

They were staring at him.

From this distance he could just make out their expressions.

There was Jester. It had been she who gasped. Gloved hands were still clutched over her mouth.

Beside her, close in an almost protective stance was Fjord. His expression was perhaps the hardest to read.

Beau looked about ready to throw hands, despite the fight being over.

*Or perhaps it is just beginning...* Molly whispered.

Caleb had changed. The more the lavender tiefling looked, the more differences he noticed. Something in the pit of his stomach wriggled uncomfortably. Those blue eyes seemed to pierce his mind.
He looked away, moving his gaze onto the two he did not recognise. One stood tall yet gentle, seeming merely quizzical about their surroundings. The other was shorter, a Halfling perhaps? She seemed perhaps a little familiar, but the tiefling could not place her.

Lucien did not want to look at the broad, dark-clad woman at the back. Despite the weeks of wondering, now that the group stood before him, suddenly his breath caught in his chest and he wanted nothing more than for them to leave again. He did not want to look at Yasha. He did not want to see disappointment or heartbreak. He did not want to look at her.

Mollymauk did though, and so the red eyes moved reluctantly up, past the heads of the others, settling on one greeny-blue and one light violet.

Yasha stared back, her face quite devoid of expression, until the lavender tiefling spoke again.

“You...”

Did one corner of her mouth twitch?

Lucien felt the hope radiate from the woman and had to snuff it out before she let it spark.

“You arrived early.” He said, straightening his clothes and moving to address the whole of the Mighty Nein.

He glanced around at the small pile of bodies they had slain. Blood was staining the icy floor. Cree was approaching at his shoulder, ever standing firm beside him.
He loved her for that. Despite everything, she was still with him.

He had to be with her. He wanted this too. It was just...

It was just...

Molly...

He needed to fix this.

He needed to do something about Mollymauk.

He needed to do something for Mollymauk.

Before he went on to do what the Nonagon was destined for.

He did still want that.

He did.

But he had to try, for Molly.
No ideas were coming to him though, and Mollymauk had fallen into a shocked kind of numb.

Lucien swallowed hard.

*What now?*

He had to say something else. Something empowering. Something clever. Something to show them he was not who they were seeking, but he was still to be reckoned with. Something worthy of Mollymauk’s friends. Something...

Something...

The Mighty Nein watched and waited.

Lucien was rapidly losing his nerve.

He wished Cree would stand a little closer.

He licked his lips, casting about for something to say.

“I... was... hoping to tidy up a bit.”

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 11- Questions

“I hope we're not being too presumptuous to intrude.” Caleb was the first to speak.

He sounded certain, more confident than before despite the hesitancy of his question.

Lucien felt his throat constrict slightly.

*When did Caleb get so bold?*

*I like it, don’t you?*

*Yes.*

“Well-”

They were all looking. Every eye in the chamber was upon him now, Tomb Takers and the Nein.

“I mean…”

Lucien felt a warm fury hand briefly squeeze his elbow. His chest lightened just a little.

“We’re not in the middle of anything right now.”

He heard a couple of the Tomb Takers chortle behind him.

“So, please, uh, come in!”

Jester piped up,
“Are you going to attack us if we do?”

Gods, she sounded so fearful. Was the sight of him really so terrible?

Caleb interjected at once,
“We are all friends here.”

*Of course we are friends!* Molly cried.

*I did not intend to come across so hostile…*

Several of their group shifted closer towards Lucien, the usual semicircle beginning to form. The tiefling tried to wave them down with a twitch of his hand.

“Not unless you give us a reason to.” He announced.
That seemed to calm the Tomb Takers, but did nothing to easy the Nein’s worries. Jester stared down at him, long and hard, as though trying to open him up and read him like a book.

For something to do, Lucien muttered quietly to Cree,

“I am not sure I want to deal with this…”

“Play dumb if you wish.” Cree suggested. “I can handle it.”

Then another voice chimed in, calling politely and calmly across the chamber.
“We haven’t met.”

It was the tall one. A mass of pastel pink and turquoise, looking more like a gentle giant than fearsome foe.

Lucien worked hard to get his vocal chords working properly again.

“In fact… I think I’ve only met-“
Crimson turned towards Jester. “You.”

In an attempt to sound less creepy, partly because Fjords hand was still on his weapon, and partly because Mollymauk was tugging at his heart, Lucien added,
“Well, sort of met. At a distance, at least.”

This was not going well.

He decided to just play a little dumb. Find out what they wanted before rushing into any mad decisions. His visions of running to embrace Yasha, of comforting smiles, of feeling at home… were all slipping away. They did not feel like family. No more than Cree and the rest of the Tomb Takers did.

It was all just…

Snow and ice.

Suddenly, the lavender tiefling wished that he was quite alone in the cavern.

“I…”

He fixed his hopes on Yasha. But the woman Molly had once called friend was no longer looking at him.

*I cannot do this.*

Molly pressed gentle reassurances in his mind, but Lucien could barely understand them, too entangled in just what a dreadful idea this whole thing had been. Cree was right, he should not have invited them here. They would have had a hard time tracking them, he should have just left the past be.

“I’m a bit curious, who you are.” Lucien said, strength returning to his voice as he shifted his longing, pushing it down deep inside him and pinning it there.

Nobody spoke for a moment. They all stood bathed in blue light, watching each other.

“Right.” It was Jester. “I was wondering if you remembered.”

*Gods, please do not sound so disappointed. I cannot bare this.*

*Could try telling them?*

*I stole you away from them, how could they ever forgive me?*

*I mean… if you wanna get technical, wasn’t it Lorenzo who stole me?*

Lucien recoiled, a shudder running not down his spine but instead making tracks down the huge dent in his chest still not properly healed.

They would wear that scar forever.

He would get another tattoo and cover it as soon as he could. Molly was right about that.

“Well…”
Lucien swallowed again.
“I think-”

He had no idea what he would have said next. But thankfully Beau interrupted.

“We’re a blast from your past, I guess.”

*A dream turned nightmare, more like…* Lucien thought.

*Only if we let it.*

*Molly, you are too forgiving.*

*One of us has to be. Not like you’d forgive yourself unless I have anything to do with it.*

Lucien turned desperately towards Cree. She was still beside him.

“Help me.” He whispered.

“Yes, well-” Dear Cree spoke up at once, addressing the Mighty Nein. “We all know each other.”

Lucien wondered whether she had met the two new members as well.

He paid little attention as Cree struck up a conversation with them. Instead he fiddled with the scimitars in his belt, straightened the collar of his coat, brushed snow from his boots, anything so that he did not have to look at them.

*Mollymauk..?*

*Nonagon?*

*Do not call me that.*

*Then don’t call me Mollymauk. We’re friends, remember?*

*How can we be? How can any of this work?*

*You’re asking the wrong guy. I don’t deal in answers, I deal in pleasures. Here and now is what’s important, and it’s difficult but hey what’s life without a little risk?*

*This is more than just risk, Molly. This is gambling peoples happiness! On… on me.*

*What’re you worried about?*

*That I cannot… live up to their expectations. That I cannot live up to, well, you!*

*More flattering words were never spoken, Luci.*

*Shut up.*

*Never.*

*Thank the Gods.*

*You’d miss me too much.*

*They miss you right now…*

*Maybe we can fix that. But take all the time you need. I know I live for the moment, but if you need time that’s alright too.*

*Thank y-*

“I’ve told you a bit about these people.” Cree was nudging him out of his stupor with an elbow.

Lucien jerked back into consciousness.
“Huh? Oh, right. Right, no. You said…”

He met the feline eyes, trying to decide what to say.

“You said… There was a past. An… encounter? With something I was not quite present for.”

Laughter rippled through the back of the lavender tieflings head. Lucien bit his lip.

“But nonetheless, for this time.” He drew himself up to his full height. He would face this, but he could not tell them everything just yet.

“Let us meet for the first time. I am Lucien, the Nonagon.”

He felt the pride sweep through the rest of the Tomb Takers as he took up the head of the pack once again. All who stood behind him swelled with it, he could sense it pressing into his back.

“THE Nonagon?” Jester asked.

“So you really have no memory of us?”

Why did it have to be Caleb who asked that?

At least it was not Yasha. Lucien knew he would crumble if she spoke a word to him right now. So he remained straight-backed and determined.

“Not particularly.” He lied, convincing himself that it was only really a half-truth.

It was Beau who responded.
“But you remember Cree, and the rest of the Tomb Takers from before?”

He bristled a little. Why did every word out of that bloody monk sound like an attack?
“Well, we-” Lucien gestured around at the Tomb Takers, now encircling him closely. “have quite a bit of history.” He was suddenly very grateful for each and every one of them, standing guard near by.

Beau was still glaring.

“I suppose you’re all referring to the…” He paused.

*No, go on, I want to hear this. Describe me. Do it.* Molly giggled.

“Uninvited guest,”

*Rude.*

“Who, ah, ‘took the reigns’ for a bit.”

Lucien was working so hard to keep himself from cracking Mollymauk’s smile that he missed whoever replied.

Instead, he went on,
“It was-”

*”it” now am I? Well IT takes one to know one.*

“likely a fragment, left behind.” Lucien tried to explain. It had hurt. It had hurt so much. He did not like to think about the gap. The blackness before he had come back to himself. Now he had Molly’s memories to fill the void, it was dulling the sensation. But it had been torment. He had been broken, smashed into splinters and lost… Lost in everything. It hurt.

*Don’t think about it.* Molly soothed.

“Try as she might, the soul was too strong for her to…” Lucien gulped. “Sunder. And I was pieced back together.”

He continued, voice low and strong, filling the whole chamber.
“Such is the blessing of the true Nonagon.”

“You keep saying ‘Nonagon’,” Fjord sounded curious. “What does that mean?”

“Many things.”

Molly rolled his eyes. Lucien had to blink hard not to do the same.

“And, ‘she,’ are you speaking about Lady DeRogna?”

Lucien nodded, a snarl of contempt licking his mouth.
“She was… an ambitious woman, that reached beyond her means.”

*Bitch*

*You are not helping.*

*Well, to be fair, without her there would be no me so… Go Team Vess!*

Lucien withheld a deep sigh.
“She lacked the imagination to achieve the things that I am achieving.”

*Cocky.*

*Says the one who cannot read.*

*I can read you though.*

*Touché…*

Jester was bobbing on the balls of her feet.
“How long have you been the Nonagon?”

“A number of years.” Lucien relented a little. Perhaps he could explain things, one step at a time. They seemed to want to listen. They seemed to want to learn.

“Maybe-”

But he broke off.

Something was niggling at him. Something was off. The dynamics had shifted and he did not care for it.
He had become the novelty, the thing to be demanded answers of. They had made no efforts to tell him about themselves, they had not introduced anyone. They had pursued him through the snow and now he had the horrible feeling that they were going to simply work out if he was of any use to them and then leave, if he did not meet the standard at which they wanted their lavender friend.

“I’ve answered a few of your questions.” He snapped. “I’ve got a few of my own. It’s only fair.”

He scanned the group, deliberately meeting every eye.

“You all seem mighty curious. Why is it you followed us?”
He meant Molly and himself. But they did not need to know that just yet. Lucien was not sure they deserved to know. He was uncertain of a lot of things, especially whether this group of adventurers truly wanted their friend back, or merely answers. He was also beginning to doubt whether he was worthy of them in return.

Some of them were laughing. The tiefling put his hands to his hips and waited.

“That is… long.” Fjord seemed to be wondering where to begin.

Cree leaned in, brushing Lucien’s hand as she offered him a small flask. He accepted it and took a slow drink, watching the Mighty Nein.

They spoke for a while. Discussing Vess, her powerful friends and how the Nein had been travelling with her.
The lavender tiefling listened, piecing together more parts of a puzzle which seemed to now stretch out into oblivion. It was filling his head with too much. He reeled under the weight of it, but remained stood where he was. The world was growing larger and larger every moment, and with every word from the Mighty Nein he became less and less certain of his place within it.

“We had quite the history with you.”

“We had very fond feelings.”

“This fragment of yours was a friend of ours.”

*What, do I belong to you? Do I owe you him back? What then would become of me? Could I just vanish and retreat? Surrender this body and give them some peace? But… then what of Cree? My life… Me… Would that all come to an abrupt halt? I would never ask Molly to do this… But I worked so hard… I want to see this through. I want… I want… I want to live! I cannot go back there. To the emptiness, the vast lost loneliness. I cannot go back. I will not.*

It was that desperate desire to cling to his own body, his own life, that spurred Lucien’s next words.
“So you felt for this empty speck? That explains a bit.”

Then the Halfling neither he nor Molly recognized spoke.
“If I may… This friend of ours. He resided in your body.”

Lucien inclined his head.

“You have such contempt for him, it seems.”

Lucien sighed.
“It’s hard to have contempt for something that doesn’t really matter.”

*Wait! No, I meant-*

“But he DID matter to some people.” The Halfling argued.

*No, no I meant that he is here, he is here so it no longer matters! I…*

“He mattered to US.”

*Oh, Gods…*

Lucien would not allow this to turn into a shouting match.
“It was but a part of myself, and I am back.” He said, keeping his voice even and calm.

Caleb stepped forward.
“And you’re not even curious where they came from, where they’ve gone now?”

“I mean…”
*I am more curious about what you will say when you find out…*

The gentler pastel one spoke up,
“Or how they ended up that way?”

Lucien found his mouth opening, Mollys words dancing on his tongue.
“It’s a bit strange, sure.”

He closed his mouth and thought for a moment.

“But, I am sure all information will be laid bare when I finish my path.”
This was more a hope than a lie.

“Tell me again, why are you here? Is it-” He hesitated. “Vengeance?”

A rush of different answers greeted him.

“We were hired to come.”

“We could have just left after everything fell apart.”

“I think we are seeking better understanding.”

Then a voice spoke for the first time since the Nein entered the chamber. A voice which made the lavender tiefling hold his breath just to hear her more clearly. It lit him up with warm honey and wild flowers.
“I think… actually… we were just looking for our friend.”

Lucien froze.

He tried so hard to look up at Yasha. But… He just could not do it.

Somewhere in the shattered expanse of their soul, Mollymauk began to cry.

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 12- A Clover for Your Thoughts
.

For several long minutes, Lucien answered the questions on a guarded autopilot. His real attention was divided between the tabaxi occasionally brushing reassuring pats on his arm, and the muffled tears trickling down the back of his throat.

*Molly..?* He took the opportunity while the Tomb Takers began work, setting up ready to collect the gem in the cavern ceiling. The Mighty Nein appeared distracted, and he called desperately into his own soul.

*Mollymauk?*

The sobs had stopped. All was very very quiet.

*Molly?*

The tiefling began to turn away from the rest of the room, when-

“What are you going to do with that thing?”
It was Jester.

The lavender tiefling did not have it in him to not answer.

“Maybe you’ll find out.”

It was not his best dismissal, but he had other things on his mind.

But then the tall, sweeping woman with black and white hair and such a look on her face was speaking again. She was asking about Vess.
Lucien met her eyes this time, and remembered that they were both a different colour. That knowledge jolted something in his stomach and he blinked, catching a breath.

Then a small voice whispered,

*Talk to her. Please?*

Lucien let out a long deep sigh of relief.

*I will*

“She was a traitor. Someone who agreed to help me- us, really- some time ago and, well, lied…”

He found a growl rising in his words as he continued.

“Lied and put me from this plane for some time. Shattered me, if you will. Scattered my spirit…”

*Why should I tell them any of this? I do not want to think about it.*

*Tell them. Tell me too. I want to understand.*

*It HURT, Molly, I do not wish to relive it.*

*I know, I know but- it helps. Talking helps. Trust me.*

A furry hand was at his back.

“But they put me back together.” Lucien finished, with more conviction than he felt.

Cree gave his lower back a soft sweep with her hand, a short circular massage of support, before she moved away to check on their group.

Lucien was drawn into conversation with the smaller member of the Mighty Nein, a Halfling woman who claimed to understand him.

That made every fiber of the tiefling bristle. He walked closer to the Mighty Nein and addressed the Halfling.

“It’s one thing to be in a different body,” He began, attempting to keep the note of terror from his voice. The memories of being lost and alone and broken into a million pieces was still too much.

Molly gave him a gentle nudge, and Lucien continued,
“It’s another to have your very essence scattered.”

*Tell me.*

“Your very immortal soul divided into pieces, like so much confetti…”

*Tell them.*

“I believe you fell for one of those pieces that stuck behind.”

*I’m clearly the best piece of you.*

*I am afraid that they think so too…*

It was exactly what Lucien had been afraid of. He wore the face of a man he could never hope to be. A part of him may be broken forever.

Suddenly a fear tore through him.

*What if I am broken forever?*

Molly made hushing noises of comfort, but Lucien could only breathe in his panic.

“This soul-” He stumbled a little over the words. “bore the mark of those that gave me this title.”

The one thing he was sure of. The one thing he knew was on his path.

“They put me back together.”

*Did it hurt?* Molly whispered.

*I try not to think about it.*

*Did it hurt?*

*…Yes*

Lucien felt the power of speech leave him. He stood, deflated as he held back a flood of unimaginable hurt, endless stretches of time being knitted back together like wool through a machine.

Molly held him together now. And Molly made him speak.
“The moment that vessel became empty once more…”

Cree turned to shoot him a short nod.

“I was happy to return.”

*How long has it been since I was truly, ecstatically happy..?*

The Halfling was still in front of him. Lucien blinked.

“So, if we both found our ways back to our true selves, well, it’s a year for celebration, is it not?”

All the woman said in reply was,

“Yep.”

Lucien felt a slight stab of annoyance at that. Here he was spilling his guts about the worst thing that had ever happened to him, all because some Halfling girl claimed she knew what it felt like, and then all he got in response was a single unenthusiastic word?!

He felt Molly tug at him again,

*They’re assholes. Self-proclaimed. Don’t take it too personally.*

Lucien snorted softly just as Jester piped up again,

“So, you’re like, a bunch of souls?”

*Just the one talking to itself at present.* Lucien thought dryly.

Molly chuckled.

“No. Just…” He did not know quite what to say.

*I’m part of you. And you’re part of me now.* Molly’s voice was kind.

Lucien tilted his head to the blue tiefling girl looking at him in curious earnest.

“Just… a healing one.”

*

Another lengthy stretch of time later, and the jewel was freed.

Lucien watched closely as the Tomb Takers set about packing up. He understood so much and yet so very little. It made playing it off to the Nein a bit easier. He had been playing the Tomb Takers for so long. Even with all the information Cree had given him, there were still great gaps that she seemed to expect him to fill in. He still had not asked for more.

“I am very curious, are you looking to bring the past back to the present? Is that what this is about?”

Red hair was cascading in strands over Caleb’s shoulders. It had grown so long since last the lavender tiefling laid eyes upon him.
And he spoke with such conviction now. Such an ease in his step, such a power on his tongue. The lavender tiefling was staring.

“You’re going to have a lot of fun. There’s so much to find…”

Scarlet met blue and for one burst of brilliant hope, Lucien thought he saw the wizard soften ever so slightly.

But the moment was broken by Beau.
“You mentioned that these eyes felt you were important enough to bring back. What makes you so sure they’re not going to feel the same about Vess?”

A coil of hate sprung up inside the tiefling.

“Ohh,” he snarled, with a smile mocking the corners of his lips. “Vess has much more selfish tendencies. I was the first chosen. She was the imposter.”

The abrasive monk was talking once more, but Lucien paid her no mind. Cree was signaling for the Tomb Takers to head out.

They were on their way again.

“Nevertheless!” Lucien cut across. “Our work here is complete.”

Suddenly there they all were again, clammering and speaking over and under each other, none making a lot of sense.

*They want to keep you here.* He told Molly.

*Just… five more minutes?*

Lucien obliged. He listened as Yasha spoke of sitting with Mollymauk while he got tattooed, the Halfling girl continued the refrain of how he doesn’t seem to give a shit now, and Jester chimed in with her thoughts on the whole thing.

Eventually Lucien asked,

“So… We’re free to leave?”

It was apparent at once that not a single one of them believed he was genuinely asking.

As Cree took the lead with the rest of the Tomb Takers, Lucien began to follow.

But then…

Perhaps it was the fracture lines in his- in their- soul not yet reforged. Perhaps it was the look on Yasha’s beautiful face. Perhaps it was just hope.
Whichever it was, the tiefling paused as he reached the narrow exit.

“Should you feel inclined… well… Follow the footprints in the snow.”

The Halfling replied first.
“If we do, are we to be making camp with you..?”

*Molly? What do you think?*

*I… I miss them. But I… This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Seeing them, hearing them but not… They cannot see me.*

*I think they see only you, but hear only me. That is the problem.*

*I want them to stay. I want Yasha close. But…*

*I understand.*

Lucien pulled his fur-lined hood closer around his throat.

“I say this with absolute respect. Travelling with this many is an impediment to the speed of our journey. Follow if you like, but this is too many to keep track of, too much to draw attention.”

He decided to shut the door completely for now. But not lock it. Never lock it.

“And to be perfectly honest, I like to travel with those who I-”

Lucien’s fingers twitched, connecting the eyes tight around him so that every Tomb Taker called back as they walked out of the cavern,

“can truly understand.”

It had creeped the Nein out, he saw it at once. That was probably for the best, he decided.

Then the larger stranger at the back with pastel pink hair spoke. His voice was low and calm. A little like Mollymauk when he was trying to make Lucien relax.

“six strangers wandered into one of the most dangerous places that anyone knows about without any kind of psychic eye, whatever that is, because of you. Because of you. Because of two years of you.”

*It was NOT ME*

*Well, sort of.*

*Sort of, be damned! This is a ridiculous game! I cannot play it for much longer.*

*What do you mean?*

“If it helps put your feelings to rest.” Lucien spoke, a steely edge glinting at the corners of his words. “I am sorry, for whatever it is worth, that your friend is gone. Whatever part of me they were, is not of me anymore.”

*I am sorry, Molly.*

“I understand that can be challenging,”

*I cannot bare the way they look at me. Such distain, such anger, such hurt. They hate me, Molly. They look for you with love and longing, only to see me standing in your place. They hate me for existing.
They hate me for fighting my way back into my own body. They hate me as though it was me who killed you.*

*It’s alright.*

*I am sorry.*

“I am sure even my presence now opens a wound.”
Both Mollymauk and Lucien recoiled at that, a tenseness clinging to the tieflings chest as though someone were fiddling with the rough scar tissue around Lorenzo’s final blow.

The Mighty Nein decided to follow. Lucien felt both delighted and worried by this. But he was certain that having them close would be worth it in the long-run.

He was just debating how close was too close for the time being, when they all began speaking at once.

It was a jumbled mess, whether a real attempt to show good faith, or a mockery of he and the Tomb Takers connection, he could not tell.

He supposed it did not matter very much.

A laugh grew on his lips and he let it fall, laughing hollowly as the rest of his group joined in and as one unit, stopped abruptly.

“You’re real cute.”

*Molly!*

*What? Oh come on, that was adorable! The way they all joined in like that to copy you guys.*

Lucien barked to the Mighty Nein,

“I’ll ask that you stay at least a bit back, because you’re starting to get annoying.”

*Yeah, we did that a fair bit.*

As he made to properly exit at last, absolutely desperate for some icy cold air on his face and a long silent trek through the snow to think, Yasha called him back.

“Before you go…”

The tiefling stopped, wondering what on earth there could be left to say.

But the angel of a woman simply held out a pressed plant.

“You gave me this four leaf clover one time.” She explained.

Lucien gulped.

“You told me that hopefully it would bring me luck, and that life would be a little bit better. And it was, thanks to you.”

A lump was forming slowly in the back of the tieflings throat. He stared down at the small green clover, unable to speak.

“I know you’re not in there anymore, but we really did care about you.”

*She doesn’t mean that*

Mollymauk was silent.

“We’ll be following behind you. Be… safe.”

*Molly, she does not mean it. She knows you are here. I could just… I could just tell her?*

*No. Not until you’re ready too. That wouldn’t be fair on anyone.*

Lucien took a slow breath and accepted the clover.

As he twirled it in his hand, flickers of dreams flashed through his mind.

A long road, a distant town. Sharing food rations and battling through rain. A horrible weeks travel.

“Well…”

Mollymauk had slept snugly in Yasha’s arms for five nights straight. It had been bitterly cold, every member of the carnival was sodden and exhausted by the time they arrived and pitched the tent.
He had stumbled across a gathering of clover in a dry corner of the field, shaded by low hanging trees.

He had run with this one, all the way to Yasha.

He was glad it had brought her some joy.

“A fine gesture.” He could feel an ache down his throat, and dearly wanted to get away from these people.

He tucked the clover into his coat, and fixed his gaze back onto Yasha.

“We could all use some luck on the road ahead.”

*I want you to be safe too* He thought, willing her to know. Willing Mollys oldest friend to see somehow, to sense that there was more he could not say. Not now. Not yet.

He could not bare it. They would be so disappointed.

He left the cavern without looking back.

*They will want to make me go away.*

*I won’t let them.* Mollys words were warm, but Lucien felt no better.

*They will want to scatter me into dust again. They will want to curse me back into that existence forever…*

Lucien was so very afraid, suddenly, of what the Mighty Nein’s love for Mollymauk could do.

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 13- Colder

*I despise the cold.*

Even his thoughts seemed to chatter as the tieflings teeth rattled in his head. The winds were bitter, coming at their little group in waves from seemingly every direction.

*It was cold when I died. It was cold when you died. It was cold when I woke up again. It’s been cold ever since. I have known nothing but snow and ice ever since I returned. I am sick of it!*

Lucien shuddered violently as another burst of wind crashed over him.

“We will stop here!” He called to the others, deciding right then and there that he would not go another step without enjoying a night huddled close to a fire.

There was no conversation at all as the Tomb Takers set about making camp. Everyone remained close together, forming a tight ring around the enchanted flames. Lucien did not notice which of them conjured the fire and he did not care. He was now entirely convinced that tieflings infernal blood was a lie. He could not be this chilled to the bone if it were true, surely?

Molly laughed softly.

*You complain, but at least you have a body.*

*I… I am sorry, Molly. I should not have… I did not mean to…*

But Molly was laughing again.

*Always so serious, Luci. Get warm, maybe it’ll lighten you up a bit.*

Lucien breathed out a long slow sigh and huddled up, resting his chin on his knees.

It was all quiet except for the raging winds.

*

It remained quiet for another hour. Then two.

Lucien closed his eyes and let the nothingness drench him.

It was nice, almost. Dried food was passed around, and he took a long swig of the foul boozy mush. It lit up his insides, which was worth the taste left souring his tongue.

But something much worse had been lingering about the tiefling all day. It clung to him like the frost on his collar, gnawing at his back ever since they had left the Mighty Nein.

Lucien was scared.

Mollymauk knew it too. They had not spoken about it though. Both had deliberately kept their conversations on whether the Nein would follow, and how desperately cold Lucien was.

Despite knowing them best, Molly was uncertain. He hoped they would come. He wanted to see them again. He longed to be close to Yasha. But still he was not sure if they would follow.

Lucien, however, was convinced that they would.

*There is no question.* He insisted, letting his eyes drift open to watch the dancing flames. *You saw the way they looked at me. They will follow wherever I lead them. They…*

He trailed off, as he had done so often that evening.

Mollymauk at once picked up the slack.

*I’m trying to think of something, if you don’t mind. A message, kinda. For Yasha. And the others too. If you don’t mind?*

Lucien raised his head.

*Oh? I mean, if you want. Then… of course. I…* He flicked his tongue across his teeth. *Will it be obvious?*

*I don’t think so. I… I dunno if I’m ready to explain all this yet. Especially while you’re all, y’know… Worried about things.*

*I am sorry.*

*Don’t be. I didn’t realize how shitty this could be on you. It… it sucks, Luci. I’m sorry too.*

*Molly..?*

*Yeah?*

*If they… If they find a way to… I mean, I don’t even know how it would be possible…*

*Luci, please don’t ask me what I think you’re going to ask me.*

*Molly. If they find a way to bring you back, just you and no me…*

*Lucien.*

*I don’t…*

*Lucien, no.*

*I just want…*

*I won’t let them. It’s not fair on you. You exist too. You’re alive. You matter.*

*I just… I don’t want to die like that again, Molly… If they… If they find a way to do it just… Please make sure they kill me. Properly.*

*No chance, I won’t let them kill y-*

“So, you’re keeping up well enough.”

Lucien’s head jerked upright.

Cree’s words had pulled him in until they were speaking in unison. He turned to look at where the tabaxi sat, knowing exactly what he would find, knowing exactly who they had both spoken to.

Sure enough, an orb of scrying magic hovered just behind her.

Lucien found his voice. It was husky. He had not spoken in hours. But now he addressed the sender through the spell.

“I hope you’re staying close.”

It was more true than he was willing to admit. Cree shot him a sidelong look but kept her face composed, knowing they were being watched.

To stop her thinking what he knew she must be thinking, Lucien added,

“There’s a lot to see when we get there and it’d be a real shame if you petered off the trail.”

That seemed to work. Cree gave him a small nod, then turned back to stare into the orb.

“I’m curious…” Lucien went on, thinking of Caleb, “what YOU want out of this.”

He paused, knowing they could not reply but trying to picture every face.

“I understand you all lie with such confidence. I admire that.” He was imagining Caleb again. His words, his smart tongue.

*Thinking real hard about Caleb’s mouth, Luci.*

The tiefling snorted.

“It’s gotten me through most of my previous life, but there are still challenges with a mortal body.”

He stared hard into the orb, willing himself to just dispel it.

Molly opened his mouth and before Lucien could think how it had happened, the second voice had quipped,
“Such as the cold!”

Lucien continued to stare determinedly at the scrying spell, hands gripping tightly onto his knees.

*What if they recognize you?!* He thought wildly.

*You really think they could?*

*I do.*

The orb hung there for another minute then vanished.

Lucien let out the breath he did not realize he was holding and slumped backwards onto a snowdrift.

It was cold and wet, but he did not care for the time being.

*This is getting worse.*

*Cheer up, Luci. When you’re down, the rest is all uphill!*

*Yes. And uphill is always a struggle.*

*Grumpy bastard.*

*Chaotic mess.*

*Nonagon-a-ding-dong!*

Lucien burst out laughing,
“What?!”

But the reply came not from Molly but from Cree.

“Nobody said anything, Nonagon.”

Lucien looked around.

*Shit.*

“Oh, I uh…”

He racked his brains for a moment and then clutched at an excuse,

“I think they attempted to message me, but it came through all jumbled. They really are ridiculous sometimes.”

The rest of the Tomb Takers tittered appreciatively. Cree narrowed her eyes at him.
“What did they say?”

“I really could not make it out, Cree. Nevermind hey? Let’s get some rest.”

*

As the tiefling curled up in his hood, he wondered if the Mighty Nein were alright.

Despite his newly awakened fear of what they may do to him, he did care. In truth, he cared for them because he cared for Molly, but it all amounted to the same thing.

Lucien did not want to hurt the Mighty Nein. Although something told him that a fight may be inevitable a little ways down the road. Especially if…

No.

He would not think about that for the moment.

*

That night, the tiefling was plagued by visions of swirling infinite nothingness.
His soul stretched and tore, unravelling at the seams as he ought to have known it always would.

Lucien howled as he was blasted, begging, pleading and still horribly conscious, into smithereens.

But the Mighty Nein would never do that to him, would they?

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 14- Scrying and Screaming

Fear began to eat away at the lavender tiefling. It burrowed deep into his stomach and toyed with his guts. It nestled around his ears and poured a daze of foggy paranoia’s into his mind. It teased, nipping at his ankles. Lucien wished to hurry up but in the same instant he wished to slow and perhaps never reach their destination.

*I do not want to fight them.* He thought, over and over again.

*I do not want to fight them.*

Molly’s voice had been very small all day, with little of his usual flair.

*You don’t have to tell me. I believe you. I know you don’t.*

*Sorry.* Lucien pressed on through a large bank of snow, curving to follow the trail Cree had made for them. *I just… If I keep saying it, perhaps it will not come to pass.*

*Well, long as you’ve got a good rational reason.*

*There is nothing rational about any of this, Molly.*

*Well, no, but that’s what makes life f-*

*This is NOT FUN, MOLLY!*

For one heart-stopping moment, Lucien was certain that the rest of the Tomb Takers had heard him.

They all stopped, most looking back at him, some glancing ahead towards Cree.

“Nonagon?” Voices were calling. “Nonagon, are you alright?”

Lucien drew his cloak closer around himself and barked,
“Yes I am perfectly alright.”

“Well… It’s just that…”

“What?”

“You… Uh… The snow.”

Scarlet eyes moved downwards.

The huge sweeping snowdrift was gone.

They were all standing in a sunken dip in the ground, great ripples of ice blasted upwards out of the edges.

Something like mud or soil crunched underfoot.

His hands were sore, twitching with remnants of magic from whatever spell he had inadvertently cast.

Voices were coming at him left and right. Jumbling in a tidal wave of sound and noise, colliding into and over one another, until he couldn’t remember how to think. He did not want to stand anymore.

*Lucien..?*

“Lucien?”

It was Cree who the tiefling answered.

“I am alright.”

The tabaxi hummed something that sounded very much like a note of disbelief under her breath as she came towards him.

Lucien was tall, but Cree was taller. She clamped careful hands around his shoulders and met his stare evenly.

“How do you feel, Lucien?” She asked.

She had not used his name in a long time.

He had grown used to that.

It felt old, somehow, like scrapings of another world, another life being tugged unceremoniously forward into this one.

What was this life?

What was he?

Was his only choice now to go with the Tomb Takers until they succeeded?

They were so close.

He could sense something like excitement building inside him every day they drew closer. It called out to him like a magnet guiding him somewhere that the old Lucien would have gone eagerly without question.

But this new Lucien… He was not so certain.

He longed for something solid. Something real and definite and unchangeable. Something he could hold onto. An anchor keeping him steady, keeping him in the right place.

“Lucien…”

Soft fur brushed his cheek.

Lucien gulped.

It was a tender gesture. Kind even.

He had not known raw kindness for a very long time.

“Leave us.” Lucien ordered the rest.

At once, the small group gathered themselves and set off out of the cleared patch of ground.

Cree remained.

Lucien was not sure if he could have let her go, had she made to follow the others.

“You are so strong.”

Soothing words were pressed into his cheek.

“You are The Nonagon. You have everything within your grasp. You have experienced an unimaginable death and returned to us. There is no hardship you cannot face.”

Gloved lavender hands clasped at Cree’s coat, pulling her in.

“You are you, and no one else.”

Lucien listened, though his heart was thumping hard against his ribs like a frightened rabbit.

Cree was whispering hushed words into his ear. His horns chinked as they bumped her temple.

“You are YOU, Lucien. You owe them nothing. You came back. You are alive. You deserve to be here. They are a memory, nothing more. Just a memory.”

“Just a memory…” The tiefling repeated. “Just a memory.”

“That’s it.” Cree nudged his balled-up fists, softly encouraging him to let go of her cloak.

“This is you. Here.”

At once, Lucien’s hand was caught up in hers, and she pressed both over the tieflings chest.

“Here. It’s you, Lucien. Your heart beats. Your mind thinks. You are alive.”

The tabaxi took a breath, and stepped back, leaving Lucien gripping at his own heart.

“Do not squander this miracle by obsessing over the past. There is so much more ahead. And we need you, our Nonagon.”

Lucien glanced around. The others were almost out of eyesight, trudging on further up the mountain.

“Can we scry on them?” He asked, hand still pressed against his rapidly thudding heart.

For a moment, it looked as though Cree would refuse him. Warm feline eyes hardened, narrowing as she stayed on the spot directly in front of the tiefling.

Then,
“We can. Close your eyes. Concentrate with me.”

And Lucien sank into the deep red comfort of the Eyes of Nine.

*

“THOSE BASTARDS!”

Cree was shoved aside as the tiefling screamed into the winds.

“Those LYING, SNEAKING THIEVES!!”

He wanted to rage and yell.

He wanted to sprint until his legs gave out and catch them up.

He wanted to step into a fire and burn away any trace of their beloved missing friend from his skin.

He wanted to rip and tear Mollymauk out of his soul.

“We can catch them. Soon.”

But Lucien could barely take in what Cree was saying. His ears were ringing with his own boiling blood. Every fiber of his being yearned to snap someone’s neck.

“Tomb Takers!” He yelled. They were at his side instantly.

“We march through the night. Hurry. Come ON!”

This time Lucien was at the front. He lead them doggedly through the snow and into the dead of night.

He did not care that he could no longer feel his toes. He did not care that his tail had frost biting all the way down. He did not care that his teeth clattered and his breath came in short sharp bursts.

He had to catch the Mighty Nein.

They had played him like a damned fool. Pumping him for anything they could get to remind them of their precious Mollymauk, and when that had proved fruitless, they had raced ahead and taken the damned crest.

Lucien bellowed into the howling wind and pressed on, gathering speed in his anger.

*I gave them a chance.* He spat bitterly into his mind. *I gave them a chance, for you.*

Mollymauk seemed unsure what to say.

*I should have guessed. This is just like us. Them.*

“Oh is it.” Lucien snarled, not troubling to keep the words from forming on his tongue.

*Yeah, y’know, like I said. Assholes, the lot of us.*

“That does not even begin to cover this, Mollymauk.”

*They probably think they’re saving you. Or the world. Or both.* Molly ventured.

Lucien shrieked with mirth.

“Saving ME?! You mean saving YOU!” He stamped on a glassy puddle, sending sheets of cracked ice flying.

“I assure you, absolutely NONE of this has anything to do with ME! No, no they are too caught up in rescuing their precious carnie and kicking me out of MY OWN BODY!”

*Lucien… I won’t let them do that. I promise.*

“Fuck OFF, Mollymauk Tealeaf!” Lucien felt heat running down his cheeks which immediately iced over, pulling uncomfortably at his skin.

“Fuck off out of my head!! Fuck off out of my soul!! Fuck off out of my LIFE!!”

He was tearing at the snow in his path now, both hands clawing, digging, wrestling his way on, on, on.

On, towards that spark of hope which clung onto Mollymauk’s memory.

On, to retrieve what had been stolen from him.

On, to destroy the Mighty Nein.

*I can’t.*

“Can’t what?” Lucien snapped.

*I can’t fuck off. We’re stuck. You’re stuck, and I’m stuck. So no can do, I’m afraid. Not like I haven’t tried.*

Lucien kicked the last of the snow aside as the group reached a sort of ridge where the going would be easier.

*What?* He asked, inwardly. *You tried to leave?*

*Of course I did. Pretty much every night since we woke up like this. Didn’t work though. Obviously.*

Lucien felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. That stung.

*Why..?*

Molly laughed a bitter laugh inside his head.

*Because this is shit, Luci. I don’t want to be just a voice in your head anymore than you want me in here. Course I tried to get out.*

*You didn’t tell me.*

*I figured if it worked, I wouldn’t need to.*

*I wish you had. I could have, I don’t know… tried to help.*

*Next time?*

*Yes. Yes of course. But… Mollymauk… Molly, I…*
Lucien took a long slow breath, feeling his burning rage subside.

*I would miss you. In a strange way. Though I still want you to get everything you wish for. Your own life, your own body. I just… I have gotten used to this… This… Us.*

*Luci, you soppy git.*

*Shut up.*

*No way. I wanna remember this moment. Lucien would miss me. This is brilliant.*

*You would not miss me then?*

*Perhaps. A little. When I’m in need of someone sensible to warn me not to do the dumbest things.*

*So, all the time then?*

They both laughed. The sound was lost in the nights chill air, but it lightened the needles in the tieflings heart all the same.

Then Molly spoke, and what he said made Lucien’s steps falter as he rounded a corner into a denser expanse of white.

*Please don’t kill them.*

The snow glistened in the dark. It sparkled and shone like so many jewels. Like Mollymauk’s horns. Like the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival tent. Like stars.

Lucien stood still and gazed around at the glittering world, preserved and perfect just for them in the middle of the night.
*I have no desire to.* He told Molly. *I promise you, I have no intentions of harming the Mighty Nein.*

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 15- Keeping a Difficult Promise

Darkness swelled out all around them. The tiefling could see, but not far. It was a thick, matted pitch kind of black, one that sucked the bleak landscape dry of any hope or shelter.

The Tomb Takers pressed on through the night.

*

“That’s them.”

Of course it was Lucien who spotted the mound of settling snow, perfectly laid in a half-sphere amidst the stark white landscape. He signaled to the others to encircle the spot, and they fanned out to do so. Each step fell soft, every eye –natural or red- was on the dome.

“Do we?”

The question on all lips.

“No.”

Lucien shook his head.

“No. We shall wait.”

With that, the tiefling sat down, crossing his legs in the snow, ruby gaze fixed on the magical shelter not 30 feet in front of them all.

After only a brief hesitation, the rest of the Tomb Takers did the same. Cree was the last left standing, but eventually she too perched herself down into the snow.

***

Not quite an hour passed. They all sat in their circle and watched and waited. Lucien rolled his shoulders and sighed gently as crests of amber began to trickle over the snow. Dawn was breaking.

*Hey.* It was Molly. *You wanna build a snowman?*

*Excuse me?*

*You know, lump a bunch of snow together and throw a hat on? Snowman!*

*I am aware of what a snowman is, Molly.*

*Well then?*

*I am busy.*

*They’ll be asleep ages yet. Go on. For me?*

*I am not wasting a hat.*

*Go on, live a little. Make up for us both having no childhood.*

Lucien froze.

Mollymauk should not know that.

*What..?*

Molly chuckled, *You’re not all that hard to work out, Luci. We’ve been in the same body for a long ass while now, and you never mentioned family once. Folks don’t wind up trudging through the snow miles from anywhere with a bunch of cultists, if they had good childhoods. Plus, you light up when you look at them.*

Lucien shot a hasty glance around at the Tomb Takers, sprawled out in their spaces, mostly obscured by new flurries of snow.

*Do not be absurd.*

*You do. You light up, I do too.* Molly insisted, and the tiefling could feel his cheeks tighten trying to surpress a smile.

*They are just followers.* Lucien pushed some snow around with his boots. He managed to make it into a sort of ball, then scooped up some more in his fingers.

*I wasn’t talking about the Tomb Takers.*

Lucien said nothing more.

Molly remained in contented silence too, watching as lavender hands worked away.

It took some fiddling, and a couple of hissed Infernal profanities, but soon a very small snow-blob sat perched at the tieflings feet.

He cracked a grin.

*I still hate the cold.* Lucien thought.

His scraping around had drummed up some dirt and he was just leaning back into the snowdrift to pick it out from under his fingernails, when there was movement.

The tiefling looked up.

A head was poking out of the snow-capped dome.

It was the firbolg. Pale pink hair shook stray flakes away as Lucien met his eyes.

This was one of the new ones.

The ones Mollymauk did not know.

He seemed alright, as far as Lucien could tell. As much as he wanted to look, anyway.

“Ah.” The tiefling broke the silence. “I was wondering when you’d awaken.”

The firbolg looked bemused.
“I’ve been awake. This is nice.”

Lucien stood up, snapping his fingers. As one, the rest of the Tomb Takers rose from their places.

*He’s odd. I like him*

*Is there anyone you do not like, Molly?*

There was a long pause inside the tieflings mind.

*You when you’re grumpy.*

Lucien snorted quietly.

Then the Firbolg was speaking again, so calm and casual it almost irritated the tiefling.
“It’s a nice sunrise.”

Lucien turned to look over his left shoulder. It was true.

“I agree.” He said simply. Then, in an attempt to make the situation slightly more bearable, he moved closer and added, “We’ll take a moment and appreciate it together.”

But the Firbolg instead vanished back into the dome.

Lucien could have sworn he heard laughter.

*I am trying.* He told Molly, gruffly. *I am trying, I am trying.*

Mollymauk was kind.

*I know.*

Lucien leaned his back against the dome, deliberately not listening to the voices within.

He found himself settling to watch the sunrise. It was rather beautiful. Lucien smiled.

Then the Firbolg’s head reemerged.
“How was your day yesterday?” He asked.

Lucien bit back a laugh.
“Exhausting. Not a lot of sleep, you know.” Ruby eyes narrowed. “When you’re trying to catch up so some folks that seem to be overachievers…”

The Firbolg nodded.
“Well, they’re industrious.”

The tiefling could not hold back the bark of laughter that time.

The Firbolg seemed to be making efforts. He turned to Lucien with a placid smile and said,
“We’ve never technically met before, really. I don’t know if you know that.”

Mollymauk curled in tighter.

“I don’t think I’ve technically met most of you, just the blue one.” Lucien replied. It still felt strange. Intrusive even, how he had now been witness to every second of Mollys life. But none of those moments belonged to him. He glanced back to the Firbolg, still staring at Lucien with something in his face that the tiefling could not read.

“It occupies a lot of the thoughts of my friends.”

Lucien felt Mollymauks heart drop like a stone.

Every one of the nine eyes blinked.

There it was again. The Mighty Nein wanted Mollymauk. Lucien did not blame them at all. That ridiculous voice in his soul now meant more to him than anyone had before. He did not hate them for wanting Molly back. But their wishes would mean the end of him. He supposed he could not blame them for that either. From everything he had seen of Mollymauk’s time with the Nein, none of them had ever claimed to be good people. Surrendering the life of a complete stranger in order to have your friend back? It was a simple choice. Lucien knew that he would have made the same one. Still, knowing all of this did not untangle the knot from the pit of his stomach. If anything, it only pulled it tighter.

The Firbolg interrupted Lucien’s thoughts.

“So did you go down there?”

Lucien spared the cavern a ways behind them all a look.

“Didn’t have to. Apparently you all found what we were looking for, and went rushing off.”

The Firbolg nodded solemnly.

Lucien decided to shoot for another go at peace.

“Not going to lie, kind of impressed.”

A curious expression creased the Firbolgs brow.

“Thank you.” He did not seem certain. “That means something.”

Lucien wondered idly what his words could mean to such a person.

Perhaps it had come across as a veiled insult. Perhaps he really did believe it. Either way, it didn’t matter much. The tiefling let out a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.

“I think it’s time for a discussion, if you don’t mind getting the rest of your friends up.”

It hurt. Calling them ‘your friends,’ like he didn’t know them.

It hurt Molly too.

It hurt Molly the most.

Lucien felt Molly pulling away as he continued to speak with the Firbolg, until the bright chaotic voice was just a brush at the back of his mind. He squeezed his own hand closed and felt a small tug of appreciation from Mollymauk in return.

There was a lengthy pause, while everyone outside of the dome waited for those inside to emerge.

*I do not like this.*

Molly murmured something in reply.

*What is taking them so damned long?*

*Give them time.*

*I am trying, Molly.*

Another long moment passed.

Then another.

Then a different face popped out.

Swept back cropped hair and a scowl. It was Beau.

Lucien had enjoyed her brashness when he was reliving Mollymauk’s memories, but the way she was looking at him now made all of that begin to spiral out of him.

Beau caught his eye and did not wait for him to address her.
“Lucien.”

*Gods, she even says my name as though it were a foul slur.*

*Nahh, she’d like that.*

Lucien sighed. “Morning.”

Beau continued to scowl.
“If you could just give us a little bit of time, we’re going to brush our teeth, maybe brew some tea.”

So they were trying to stay there. All cozied up inside that damn dome.

Crimson eyes flashed as the tiefling glanced around at the rest of his group, taking in one worn out face after another.

*We hauled ass through the snow all night. We did not stop, we played catch up to a bunch of thieves. And now THEY want to rest?*

Lucien felt Mollymauk shrug.

*Assholes!*

*I did tell you.*

A snarl of a smile formed on Lucien’s lips, as he said with a steely sweetness in his voice,

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you all resting? Did you have a nice nights sleep?”

“Yeah.”

Lucien felt a vein in his forehead twitch.

“We’d like to continue our rest, unless you’re in some sort of astronomical hurry.”

Lucien only just managed to bite back the desire to reach for his swords.

He had promised Molly.

As he stood ankle deep in the snow, freezing, shivering and deprived of any respite, Lucien recalled the notion that once, a lifetime ago, he would not have hesitated to break such a futile thing as a promise.

But with Mollymauk…

With Mollymauk, everything was different.

And so the tiefling swallowed, realigned his smile and said,
“Of course. We’ve only trudged through a night in the dark trying to catch up to your group for grabbing the thing that we were after.”

The perpetually pissed-off monk blinked.
“Grabbing the thing you were after.” She repeated.

“Well,” Lucien waved a hand, flicking beads of frost off his sleeves. “You got extremely… How do I put it..? Eager. Eager to not walk the path I left for you.”
The smile flickered.
“Instead you cut us off at the pass.”

*Do you want to leave?* Molly whispered.

*They would only reappear if we did.*

Molly chuckled. *Yeah I bet they would. But… This is… getting tricky.*

*You miss them, Molly. And they obviously miss you. I can put up with how they look at me, if you would like to stay near them.*

*Really?*

*Of course. I… If I had been a better person, perhaps I could have avoided this somehow, I don’t know. I just… If I cannot give you your own life, I want to at least give you your friends.*

Lucien felt a soft lump trail down his throat.

*Thank you.* Molly mumbled.

Lucien could not say anything else.

He refocused, trying again.
“You know what, I appreciate initiative.”

The look on Beau’s face made that decidedly the last of his compliments. As steely blue glared back into ruby red, Lucien began to slowly curl his hands into fists. A blaze of magic began to beat within him like a drum. Thundering up through his ribs until his heart was pounding.

“But, unfortunately,” He went on. “I can’t say that we are really in a mood for waiting that much longer, so…”

And Lucien dispelled the dome.

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 16- Not Entirely Different...

And so the day began with bitter discussions.

Lucien tried to believe the Mighty Nein when claims were made that they had collected the crest as a gift.

He tried.

He really did.

But he did not believe a word.

The Mighty Nein were as cold toward him as the frozen landscape.
He supposed there was little to be done about that. Wearing Mollymauk’s face might have spared him for a moment or two, but in the end he was wearing the skin of their fallen friend. He could expect nothing but resentment.

Beau in particular was happy to give that to him by the bucket load.

He knew their game. Stalling, trying to keep just a little more time for themselves to recover. But he was not going to let them.

Equal ground must be earned, and right now the two groups were far from level.

His hands itched to seize his swords and beat the whole lot of them into just SHUTTING UP. But his heart still ached for their acceptance. He hated himself for it, but it just… was. As much as he wanted to turn tail and storm away into the snow, never to see them again, he also clamored to be with them, be a part of them, just… be.

Then Yasha spoke and every thought drained away.

“It seems like finders-keepers out here in Eiselcross.”

Lucien paused.

Crimson eyes drifted over Yasha, who had the most neutral stance second only to the firbolg as the group stood for their row. Beau and the Halfling woman were glaring, wound up ready to spring any second. Fjord and Jester looked almost pained, soft round eyes fixed on the lavender tiefling as he scowled back. Then Caleb…

*Oh Caleb…*
Molly and Lucien sighed.

The wizard was a frightened rabbit, wide-eyed and on high alert for any whiff of danger. Lucien trailed his gaze downwards, noting the whitening knuckles as Caleb clutched at his pouch of components, braced to cast any spell.

Lucien swallowed slowly.

“Perhaps… And now we found you. So perhaps you are ours-”

Caleb’s cheeks were tinged with a soft pink flush. Perhaps it was the chill.

“-for the taking.”

Beau snorted.

“Yeah. You could pick a fight if you really wanted to but-”

*She says it as though she believes they would stand a chance against us.*

“I am not here to pick a fight.” Lucien interrupted her. And how delicious it was to interrupt the snarl. “I am here to ask-”

But-

“Really?” Beau scoffed.

Lucien clenched his fist and found Mollys hand there, in a whisper of a touch. It stung the corners of his eyes.

*I’m trying to hold onto a fucking shadow…* He thought, despising the pathetic quaver in his voice.

*So am I.* Molly whispered back.

The Halfling had taken up the conversation as Lucien thought. He zoned back in now, hazily picking up the odd word.
“Agression… Probably best… Concealed from us… We asked you lots of questions last time we met, and some were not answered.”

Lucien’s lip curled.

“Well, you hadn’t yet proven that you were on the up and up. As you can imagine, there are a lot of people here who would be curious about what we’re doing, and would be eager to put a knife in our back.”

By ‘our’ he meant ‘my.’

Then came the key word.

‘Insurance.’

So, the Mighty Nein demanded promises? He would oblige. For now.

But there was no way he was going into this without some semblance of the upper hand. He needed to reassert himself before he was washed away on a string of hate-filled words.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lucien withdrew one of his scimitars and thrust it into the ground. He did it hard. So they would know. They would know.

*If you cross me, it will be you.*

He leaned forwards and draped himself over the hilt, matching every stare from the Nein with a cool ease.

“Well, that makes this a negotiation.”

Molly flicked his tail. In another lifetime, the tiefling would have been swaying his rear as he bent over. He very nearly did too. But not this time.

“You know what I want. What do you want?”

***

*How...?*

*I dunno what to tell you, Luci.*

*HOW?*

*Hey, it was your idea!*

*How did we end up TRAVELLING together?!*

*It might be great?*

*I… I do not know, Molly…*

*Could suck too of course.*

*I am rather expecting so…*

*Grumpuss.*

*Shut up.*

Molly sniggered.

*

“Are you going to push us into the lava while we sleep?”

The Nein were unpacking their comforts and setting up a camp a little ways apart from the Tomb Takers. Jester was eyeing the thick river of molten lava mere meters from the groups.

Lucien spared the lava a glance, then smirked.

“Hopefully, if you don’t give us a reason.”

Molly prodded him lightly in the ribs.

*I am joking.* He insisted, quietly.

*

The fire crackled and sparked. Every face around it sat and ate quietly.

It was an almost pleasant scene.

Molly hummed happily in the back of Lucien’s mind. Cree sat close beside him.

Lucien felt like making the most of it.

“Well. If we’re going to be learning about each other, what do you want: where it started, or where it’s going?”

It was Caleb who replied.
“I am a fan of history. Let’s start there.”

Crimson flicked over to meet blue, sitting almost as pale as the blanket of snow around them.

Lucien licked his lip.

*How much do I tell them..?*

*How much do you want to tell them?*

*Hello, so I am Lucien and you may all be delighted to know that your dearly departed Mollymauk is currently residing inside my head. Any questions? No? Good. Pass the pie.*

The tieflings whole body began to shiver with a laugh rippling through him. Molly started it.

Lucien decided in that moment, to punt for the truth. Or as much of it as he was willing to give for the moment.
He told the Nein about the Tomb Takers coming together, and the scraps of knowledge he remembered from his own past. The more he thought about it, the more Cree had talked, and the more he tried to recall, the more he found he could remember clearly for himself.

Some things were not anyone else’s to know though.
No one need hear about his life… before. Before he grew into adulthood. Before he could take matters into his own hands. Before he had the guts to do what needed to be done. Lucien would never tell.
That piece was his and his alone. Slammed shut in a trunk buried in the far depths of his mind, never touched and never opened. Molly understood. He did not pry. For that, among so many other things, Lucien was eternally grateful towards him.
“I found a secret.” He went on aloud, savoring the fact that for just a few minutes he had the Nein’s undivided attention. No squabbles, no sarcastic interruptions. They were silent and listening.

*No doubt waiting for something they can attempt to use against me later.* He thought spitefully.

*I mean… Probably.* Molly agreed.

Lucien felt a tug somewhere, and Molly moved their gaze back across the circle to settle on Caleb.

“I found a book. You seem to be fond of books. Heavy reader?”

Caleb’s throat sounded dry.

“One or two.”

Lucien leaned closer, fixed on the wizards auburn hair.

“I couldn’t put this one down.”

He stayed uncomfortably close for just a second, then dropped back into his initial seat on the ground with a flash of sharp teeth.

“So.” He turned to the rest of the group, only keeping the occasional eye on whether the wizard was still staring at him. “What are you all doing here? Are you coming to stop me?”

Caleb answered at once, so abruptly that both Molly and Lucien blinked.

“Well, we were quite fond of our friend. So that alone does, ah…”

Lucien watched intently as Caleb wet his lips and finished,

“draw us in a bit.”

Molly beamed a grin across the tieflings face.

And it was distinctly Molly’s voice which spoke next.

“Well, it’s hard not to be fond of this!”

Lucien froze.

Mollymauk froze.

The Tomb Takers continued to eat, as did most of the Nein. But Caleb and Cree were both looking at the lavender tiefling.

*Shit.*

*Think they heard me?*

*Well we… I mean, we sound alike, don’t we?*

*Quick, cough or something, throw them off!*

Lucien very nearly laughed.

Slowly, he shifted where he sat and met a piercing blue stare.

*Fuck me…*

Caleb leaned towards the fire, and this time it was Lucien who moved to listen closer.
“You’re not entirely different from the friend we knew…”

*Fuck…*

The tiefling felt heat curl and coil up past his nose. He watched Caleb through the fire as they both sat, pressed forward on their palms, contemplating one another.
Caleb was all flames. Heat and smoke. From the red of his hair to the flecks of soot that brushed his fingertips. Lucien was not quite sure how he knew that. He felt his mouth begin to drift into a soft smile the longer they sat like that.

“We’ve seen you with food on your penis.”

Only Jester could destroy such an impossible moment of desperate confusion without having her head torn from her shoulders.

Lucien blinked.
The Tomb Takers were chortling. The tiefling tilted his head towards Jester and asked her wordlessly to explain herself. Why had she said such a thing? Why? Why in front of Cree and his followers? Why?
Why now? Why, when he had been almost about to-

Then Caleb spoke again, and he was still so close. Just the other side of the fire pit. He had not moved away.

“All of us.”

Lucien’s jaw slackened.

Molly helped him. A flash of a memory they both knew well hovered in his vision. Stood in an alleyway, discussing plans. A hospital. A distraction and…

“You tried to pass it off as the plague.” Beau added.

*Of course she is keen to prolong my humiliation.*

“You covered it in egg.”

The tiefling groaned as Caleb joined in once more.

*Oh come on, it was funny.*

*For you, perhaps. But I had no control over it.*

“That wasn’t me. That was an aberration.”

*Aberr-whatnow?*

*Molly, would you just-*

“Same dick.” Beau shot back.

Then, everyone laughed.

Mollymauk the loudest of all.

Lucien let them.

He loved Molly. It was a part of him that he had to embrace. There was no defeating a person like that.

…And very suddenly, Lucien knew that one day, Mollymauk would be all that was left of him.

And very suddenly, Lucien thought that he might just be alright with that.

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 17. Empty.
.

“Those FUCKERS!”

Lucien’s indignant screech was almost extinguished by the roar of lava erupting on all sides.

Cree reached for him.
“Run!”

And indeed, there was no other option.

A blur of lavender and crimson and rich heavy black furs lead the way, carving a path through the ice and great licks of ravenous molten flame beneath their feet as they slipped and skidded across the lake.

The rest of the Tomb Takers gave chase, and all the while as his feet slammed down into ever less and less stable sheets of ice, the tieflings heart was hammering and a voice was ringing in his ears.

*Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt them.*

And he could not. Would not.

But oh how he longed to.

Molly gripped a ghostly clutch at his wrist.

*They’re just trying to screw you over before you screw them.*

Lucien growled, nearly tripping over in his haste.

CCCCCHHHHHHHHHCCCCCCCRRRRRRRR

“Holy fu-”

The stretch of ice he was tearing across had cracked clean in two.

*Luc, MOVE IT!*

But Molly’s cry came too late.

A huge spiraling lick of lava broke through the crack and all the tiefling knew was red and heat and shock.

*

The world moved.

Footsteps thundered.

He was running again but everything was muffled.

Like a thick pillow clamped around his senses.

Gods but he was aching all over.

Aching and squinting and tasting blood but Alive.

Alive.

ALIVE!

The tiefling was shaken out of his reverie by a flash of orange rising towards him.

Mollymauk charged on, half blinded by snow and the sheer whiteness all around. Red trails crept in at the corners of his vision, the opposite bank looked like miles ahead.

His swords were in his hands and he pelted as fast as he-

Then all at once the ground was gone from beneath him.

Molly’s head shot upward and he saw the great bird soaring high, carrying him safely in its clutches.

Air rippled through tangled violet curls.

Freezing gusts of wind stole in through every rip and dislodged piece of his clothing but the tiefling did not care.

He was there. He was THERE. He was alive and he was out in the air and he was breathing great lungfulls of sleet in pure delirious joy!

He was flying and safe and so so ALIVE!

“…”

He tried to shout.

“E…”

*No…*

Down in the snow he could see familiar shapes. As they hovered closer they turned into familiar faces.

“E… Emp…”

“NO”

“E..Empty…”

*NO!!*

Scalding tears began to make tracks, pouring down his face.

They froze at once.

“Empty… empty… empty…”

*Molly, NO!”

Suddenly the air was too cold.

The flight no longer exhilarating.

*Molly… what the...?*

“Empty.. E…”

*Shit! Fuck, shit, FUCK!*

The tiefling clenched his fists around the handles of his blades and let out a devastated scream that was lost immediately to the wild winds.

*

Nobody spoke as the two groups set off again.

Cree had approached but Mollymauk shook her off without a word.

His legs were burning and his chest was hollow but still he surged on ahead into the blizzard.

He felt a desperate clawing fear at the thought of anyone seeing his face.

What if they saw?

What if they knew?

He could not do it again.

*Tell them.* Lucien hissed as they smashed through snowdrifts as high as their waist.

“Em..p…t..y…” Molly gulped.

*Tell them, they will help us!*

The snow was coming down so thick it was as though they moved through an endless bubble of paper.

“Empty, empty, empty!”

Mollymauk slashed at the snow with a scimitar, hurling chunks left and right.

They were far ahead now. Out of reach and out of earshot for even Caleb.

*He could help.*

Mollymauk shook his head.

*Why not?*

Molly kicked at a drift and it scattered under their boot.

*Because you do not wish them to see you this way?*

Molly said nothing.

*You are not pathetic, Mollymauk Tealeaf.*
Lucien whispered gently.

*They would adore you no matter how you came to them. They can help. You did it before, they can help you to do it once again.*

A flatter section of snow appeared through the swirling mess.

Flattened with footprints…

At least 10 sets…

Their footprints.

They had come in a full circle.

*I could do it.* Lucien offered.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Beau’s voice came calling in a snarky barb through the wind.

“E…emp…ty…”

*I could speak to them. I can take a little control. You did it before. I could explain. Granted, it would be a lengthy explanation by all accounts but-*

“Em…p…t…y…”

*Molly, please don’t give up. You will not be stuck this way forever. I… I will not let it happen.*

“Empty…”

*We cannot exist like this. Had I any idea we could… that you could… that we… But I did not. And now here we are and unless you let me speak to-*

“We’re following you, you know!”

Lucien roared into life,
“Yes, I’m lost, alright?!” He snapped.

There was a loud smattering of laughter behind them.

Lucien slipped back into the heal of the tiefling’s soul and Mollymauk slowly came to a holt.

*I understand.* Lucien was kinder now, and Molly felt a pulse of a hold tighten around his waist.

“E…”
Mollymauk was exhausted.

He sank back in on himself, allowing Lucien to find his tongue.
“Well, we’ve all had a day. Let’s take a rest here, and we’ll continue on first thing in the morning.”

There was a steely tint to his words, and a glisten in the corners of his eyes.

Mollymauk began to turn away, beckoning to the Tomb Takers to set up a camp, when-

“Wait. I actually have a question about that because- when- do you sleep?”

It was Yasha.

She stood tall and dark against the landscape, a shadow with an interested and earnest expression.

Molly turned and all he wished to do was launch himself into her arms and be hoisted into the tightest grip imaginable. But he could not bare to see her pity him. He could not come to her broken. Not again.

A choke began to rise and Lucien managed to force out,
“Not for a while. One of the many gifts to the Somnovum.”

Thankfully, they left him alone after that.

The Tomb Takers began to carve out a makeshift camping spot, piling snow high into walls to ward off the wind.

Cree was patching herself up, but occasionally shot the tiefling an odd sort of look.

*Molly, we need a plan.*

Turning his back on the rest, Mollymauk took several long deep breaths.

*Good. Good. Alright… I… I don’t… Molly, I don’t know how to fix this. But I will. I swear to you.*

“E..em…pt..y..?”

*I am fucking clever, alright? I will find us a way.*

“Empty..” Mollymauk sheathed their blades and stared down at his hands, tearing the gloves off to get a better look, a better feel. He touched his own skin. Traced the lines of snake scales. Pressed a thumb to the glowing red eyes...

*I still say you should tell them. Perhaps they might not try to leave us to our deaths if they know it is you.*

“E…” Molly managed a watery smile.

*You understand what I am saying, don’t you?*

Molly creased his eyebrows.

*Molly…*

Lucien sighed in the back of the tieflings mind.

*I am saying… That… If you are you again… If this is how we are now… And I still have no bloody clue how that happened… But… If you are you and we can stay this way then… I will.*

“Empty?”

*I will fix you. I will help you. I will get you speaking again and then… Then…*

Molly felt the other soul inside him stiffen defiantly.

*I will step aside. For you. I will be just this. A voice in your head.*

“Em…p…”

*You deserve to live, Mollymauk Tealeaf.* Lucien told him. *And I shall make it happen.*

…

Chapter Text

Chapter 18- A Tarot Reading

Half an hour passed, and in that time, Lucien and Mollymauk came to an agreement.

Molly, overwhelmed and unable to speak had concentrated hard and allowed Luciens place to shift within them slightly. The Nonagon sat heavy on his tongue, and hissed brief instructions to the Tomb Takers, all the while the tiefling kept an eye on that portal the wizard had created.
He did not trust it.

Mollymauk wished for nothing more than to sleep. To sleep until he woke up either with his voice or back shut up in the corner of Luciens mind once again.

He was so tired. And bitterly, bitterly disappointed.

This was not how he had wanted things to go.

He had no idea how it had happened. How they had switched so seamlessly in an instant. And now he did not care. He was just…

So tired.

He tuned back into Lucien’s conversation with Cree, blinking as he struggled to remember that he was in charge of moving their body now.

“I shall go and find out.” Lucien decided, and Molly waved off the rest of the Tomb Takers as he extracted himself. They trudged through the snow until they reached the pulsating burst of magic.

It smelt of Caleb.

Lucien knew it too.

It was strange now, being without the sweet chirrup of Mollymauk in the back of his mind.

No sounds existed there now. Molly was silent. And Lucien knew that Molly thought his one word more useless than any idiotic quip he had ever uttered in jest.

“Knock for me.”

Molly obliged.

They stood waiting for some time, before Molly did it again. Louder.

Then with a flash of magic, Caleb stood before them, opening a door into a space Molly did not recognize.

“Ya, how can I help you?”

“E…” Molly concentrated hard, willing Lucien back in.

“I was just curious as to where this strange portal lead.”

Gods but Caleb was sinful when he scowled…

“This is my house.”

Mollymauk slipped into nothingness as the conversation unfurled around him.

Lucien was in no mood to play coy.

His frustration surged through Mollys veins like wild fire. The desperate longing to help, to mend, to make things right.

‘Right?’ It was such a strange concept now.

Molly wondered if he could be fixed.

Molly wondered how he had come to be.

Had that blast of lava killed them both?

Was this some cruel torment in the Nine Hells?

Or was it worse than that..?

Was this just… it?

He could not bare to do it again.

What was he without his bravado?

Who was he without his charisma and charm?

A fool with a devilish grin and a taste for jewelry. That is all.

Lucien had been willing to hand over his life. And this was all they had gotten.

Molly felt sick to his very bones.

Then he heard a door slam and Lucien snarl.

Molly curled his fists on instinct, ready for a fight. But then he realized.

Lucien was breathing hard.

“I have had enough of this. Lift my hand!”

Molly raised his right.

A surge of magic bolted through them and with a loud POP, the sparkling portal had vanished.

THUD

THUD

THUD THUD THUD THUD

THUD

The Mighty Nein fell into the snow before the tiefling.

“Trust has to be earned.” Lucien growled as the Nein rose to their feet.

“I have reason to believe that there's some funny business and you still have something that I need. So why don't you come join us by the fire or make your fancy dome once more. This-”

Molly pointed to the spot where the portal door had been.

“This makes me uncomfortable.”

They were all staring at him.

Molly retreated at once.

Fear took a hold of him, burrowing deep into his heart and would not let go.

Lucien attempted to sooth him, but he could not breathe and he could not think.

All that existed inside Mollys mind was,

Empty.

Empty…

Empty…

He let Lucien bicker with Caleb and Beau.

He felt words come from his lips, but could not form any.

He wished to curl up into a ball and sleep.

But Mollymauk was also a little afraid of sleep.

It made his time with The Nonagon so much easier.

No sleep.

No long stretches of falling into blackness.

No panicked mornings waking to sweat and the taste of dirt.

Never again.

Until now.

Mollymauk was a little frightened of sleep, for sleep meant waking and waking could mean anything.

Then, suddenly he heard someone say his name.

“I learned this from Molly. Does that change your opinion of it?”

And at once, Lucien softened.

“No.”

A wave of gratitude washed over the tiefling. Lucien felt it.

Molly sat them down opposite the pretty blue face he knew so so well.

Then she produced his cards and Molly could not stop the smile blossoming at his mouth.

Caleb sat next, and his eyes never left Mollys face.

Beau grumbled cross-legged beside the other two.

“Choose three cards.”

Molly raised an eyebrow.

Surely he had shown her better than this?

Lucien snorted approvingly in the back of his mind.

Molly reached forward, plucking one… two… three cards from her display.

Then he paused.

Wasn’t there one missing? The deck appeared a little short.

“Okay so, flip over the first card.”

Molly did so.

“This is the card of your past…”

Molly nodded.

“So weird! This card is History and the Dream!”

Lucien said nothing.

“Flip the next card!”

Mollymauk obliged.

“Ooh, this is your present.”

They both looked down at it.

Molly blinked.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lucien gasped.

A pair of dragons were clustered together on the image, fighting and writhing.

“The Tyrant.” Jester announced.

“Em…”

It sounded like a noise of interest.

“Flip the last card. This is your future.”

As he turned over the third card, Molly found himself hoping against hope. Wishing that somehow, something would make sense. Something would give them a way out. Help. Hope. A haven.

He knew the cards were bullshit. He knew there was nothing in it. He knew that but…

It had not stopped him reading his own future over and over again.

It had not stopped him looking for meaning and reading the most outrageous things, laughing and insisting on acting out their consequences.

Somewhere inside him, the tiefling believed.

All eyes fell onto the final card.

A skeletal figure wreathed in inky robes stared back at them through deep sockets.

Mollymauk let out a very small pitiful cry that Lucien salvaged into a hum of interest.

“Death.” Jester whispered.

Lucien tried and failed to speak.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, Lucien, you know.” Jester continued.

Mollymauk could have sworn he saw a gleam of triumph in Beau’s gaze.

Caleb too was looking from the card to Mollymauk with a keen stare.

“Some people think that death means a rebirth.” She went on, clearly trying to salvage what had been a fun little game mere moments before. “Something must end for something new to begin.”

Molly felt Lucien shiver. His hand shook where it rested on his knee, and at once the tiefling rose to his feet.

“Thank you.” Lucien said cooly. “That was… interesting.”

And without another word, Mollymauk marched back over to slump into the snow beside the Tomb Takers fire, facing away from everyone more firmly than ever before.

*

*Molly, I do not know what that meant but-*

“Empty.”

*Perhaps it is good. Perhaps it means that I will… Or that we will somehow…*

“Empty…”

*No. You heard what she said? I can remember your life as well, you know? I know those cards are utter nonsense most of the time, but they can mean something. And that Meant Something.*

“…empty…”

*It’s a way out, Molly. I promise you.*

“Em…”

*It is NOT death. It is a new start. It is You, Molly. I know it is. You just have to… Oh, I don’t know… kill me off first or something.*

That made Molly splutter a quiet laugh.

*I know you don’t want to. But… Do you see the way they look at you? At me? They are longing for you, Molly. They despise me and to be frank, I am not always so fond of them but… If I can give you back to them. To the world. I will. I promise.*

“…Emp…ty?”

*I think…*

Luciens voice faded.

Molly sat up, shuffling snow.

*Molly… I think we have to be The Nonagon…*

…

Chapter Text

Chapter 19. 'Details'

Every move from then on was calculated.

The tiefling rose from their sleep, such a strange experience for Lucien… He lay in a state of subconscious slumber, vaguely aware of the world around and sitting upright to give the illusion of remaining awake. But Molly slept. The red eyes were dull and dim now, but nobody seemed to notice.

Molly slept for almost 7 hours before Lucien shook him awake gently.

*Enough now.* He mumbled.

*We cannot arouse suspicion. Not here.*

Molly nodded, shuffling his back against the snowy embankment.

The Tomb Takers were close.

It was safer not to let them know.

Lucien could not imagine how they would react.

So, pretence became their routine.

Mollymauk accepted a water pouch from Cree and drained it.

Then he walked straight over to the tangles of red hair and presented Caleb with the book.

Both he and Lucien delighted in the look of rapturous wonder which lit up in the wizards piercing blues, and as they stood over Caleb and Beau to watch, a creeping sense of hope rattled through the tiefling.

Lucien was certain.

This would work.

This had to work.

Molly did not understand entirely, but he was used to that by now.

*Trust me.* Lucien whispered as they watched pages turn in eager hands.

*This will work. This will help. It… it could be remarkably simple. Just… follow the path I was already on. See it through, and… well… ensure it does not work. Then…*

“E…” Molly breathed.

*I will be destroyed.* Lucien completed. *Utterly. Completely. My soul scattered, my life… done. But this body… this body I can take measures to protect. Then it shall be vacant. For you.*

Mollymauk stared at the sky and squeezed his right hand, enclosing Luciens in a ghostly touch.

*Now to ignite the bait.* Lucien instructed, and Molly snapped back to attention. He snatched the book out of Caleb’s hands, causing Beau to shoot him a filthy look.

“I think that’s enough reading for now.” Lucien quipped as Molly grinned. “So. What do you think?”

Caleb looked as though he had just been withdrawn from the midst of a tremendous fuck. Pupils were blown wide so the ring of blue sat thin as tissue paper, hair was scraped back in a messy ponytail which somehow made him even more beautiful and there was a hunger seeping from every pore.

Molly suppressed a giggle.

It was hott.

“Whet my appetite, why don’t you?” The wizard spoke as though his throat were very dry. “Are you able to read or make something of this?”

Lucien spoke again as Mollymauk held his grin in place.

“Not at first. But if you make any sense of it,” Molly leaned in just a little. Enough to taste the remnants of Calebs spell components on the air. “Please, do let me know.”

Caleb nodded mutely.

Crimson locked with blue.

Molly swallowed.

“Em…” He tried to say something. Sense abandoned the tiefling as he stood half bent over in the snow, watching every flicker of movement in Caleb’s face.

Lucien recovered for him.

“Think on it. We’ve got a bit of travel. If perhaps you get an idea, come let me know.”

By the time he had finished, Mollymauk had summoned enough willpower to move away.

They left the Mighty Nein puzzling, heading back to join the Tomb Takers and begin their journey again.

The first step of the plan had gone perfectly.

…

“Shoot!”

Lucien shouted into the icy fog.

It was almost 12 hours later, and they had made next to no progress.

Darkness was starting to fall and Molly was falling apart at the seams. Lucien was spurring him on, with talk of getting things done, of reaching the city, of being fucking warm! And Molly was trudging on.

But even Lucien could not talk their way out of this setback, and the next shout he bellowed into the freezing landscape echoed exactly how Molly was feeling but so desperately unable to vocalize.

“I HATE THIS PLACE!”

Mercifully, Caleb allowed them all to take refuge inside his magical home for the evening.

Mollymauk hung back.

*What is it?*

“Em..p…ty…”

*I know.* Lucien pressed in close, cradling Mollys soul in his own. *I know. But this is the best plan we have. And they have to follow us. So…*

Molly nodded gravely, and stepped inside.

The tiefling was hit at once with the strength of magic within the place. Caleb’s scent was all over it, like a sweet lingering memory of home.

Mollymauk ached.

Lucien spoke.

“Not going to lie, this is a very welcome change of pace. My thanks.”

Caleb was just opposite, eyeing the tiefling with that look on his face once more…

“If you’re a good boy, we can do this every night.”

Mollymauk moved closer, his feet light and slow stepping across the nine-sided hallway until he stood before Caleb.

He regretted it at once.

Something unsettled inside him.

Something in the mans face…

Lucien said aloud what Molly was thinking.

“I like it when you’re condescending. It’s attractive.”

The tall pink-haired one chimed in,

“He is always condescending.”

Then the Halfling added,

“He’s always attractive.”

Mollymauk licked his lip.

“That’s dangerous.” Lucien crooned.

Caleb held the tieflings gaze for a beat.

Then another.

Then another.

…

“This is for you.”

But Mollymauk had not heard Caleb.

The tiefling had stopped dead right beside a tall pane of stained glass.

Stained glass in all the colours of the rainbow.

Stained glass that bore the image of a tiefling.

Stained glass that reflected back an image of… himself.

Molly’s eyes filled with tears.

Lucien caught Caleb turning back and jerked Molly, who hastily swiveled his head to stare at the vast stretch of glass above the fireplace. He stared at the details of the city he had only seen in Luciens mind.

Caleb approached and Mollymauk sniffed hastily.

He followed the wizard through into the next room, passing bunkbeds where the Tomb Takers were settling down with contented sighs of relief and entering a new room.

Lucien and Mollymauk gasped.

The drapes hanging around the double bed were all intricately embroidered…

Stars and suns and moons and…

And…

*It’s your coat…*

Mollymauk felt a wetness start up again at the back of his throat.

It threatened to overwhelm him, and there he stood rooted to the spot, unable to express his thanks. Unable to say anything at all.

Caleb was moving away, answering the questions put to him about food and cats.

The tiefling remained in the bedroom.

He remained there until Caleb had left, and everyone else was busying themselves with talks of hot meals and cat massages.

Mollymauk took a tentative step towards the bed.

He felt as though every movement may cause the place to shatter around him.

A hand reached out.

Fingers brushed the drapes…

Half moons merged into full moons then back again.

Peacocks stood regal in beading details.

A large blazing sun sat at the foot of the bed.

Mollymauk wanted to see every inch of it.

He walked around and around, back and forth until he had pulled at the fabric from all sides, running his hands over each and every detail.

It was perfect.

*I wonder if they found it…*

Lucien murmured.

“E…e…e…”

*I bet they did. I bet they looked. I bet they searched for it and you know what, Molly?*

“Em…”

*I bet they have it. I know it. I can feel it. I bet they have your coat.*

“Empt…y…”

*It will be alright. We will make it right. I… I am so sorry, Molly. I truly am.*

The floorboards creaked.

Mollymauk sank to his knees.

His forehead thudded gently against the end of the bed frame.

Neither he nor Lucien made any attempt to stem the tears this time.

Lucien sat warm around him, holding onto Molly as much as he could. A shiver of a comfort sitting around the tiefling as he hunched over into a silent howl.

Stifled sobs broke and pattered down onto the rug.

One two, three four five.
One two, three four five six…

Drumming out, ‘I miss them I miss them I miss them.’

*I know…* Lucien soothed.

But he could do no more.

For all of Lucien’s words and plans and intentions…

Mollymauk was here now.

But he was completely alone.

*

Chapter Text

Chapter 20. Inside The Tower.

“Don’t really have family.”

The pink haired firbolg shot Lucien a curious look.

“Everybody came from somewhere.”

Mollymauk winced, but Lucien answered, unphased.

“Oh, those that wish to remember.”

It was such a little thing. So insignificant really. But Molly found himself wishing to know the man whos body he inhabited.

No. Who was inhabiting HIS body.

No.

Who shared the body they found themselves in.

Lucien remained a stoic mystery. Molly knew not to look. He had ample chances. Lucien’s mind was as open as his own. They could strut through each others memories like the halls of a winding library.

But Molly chose not to.

He granted Lucien that one piece of dignity.

Mollymauk did not pry.

The firbulg, however, persisted.

“On the other end of that is occasionally an unfortunate truth.”

Molly felt the shutters come down, quick as lightning.

“You might want to stop prying now, and enjoy your meal before it gets unpleasant.”

The tiefling stabbed at another mouthful with his fork, chewing slowly and surveying the table.

If he could only tell them…

*Don’t.* Lucien warned quietly. *Don’t think like that. I can feel it, you know. You may no longer be able to verbalize but I can feel it too. Don’t pine. It will only make things worse.*

Molly sighed.

He knew Lucien was right.

He dropped his gaze to his plate and continued to eat.

“Do you remember anything from the circus? Or anybody from Shadycreek that was part of the circus?”

Yasha was asking him now, and Molly could not look at her.

He toyed with a muffin, picking flecks off the top as Lucien replied,

“No.”

“Do you remember someone named Gustav Fletching?”

Yasha enquired.

A fountain of colours burst forth in the tieflings minds eye.

Waggons and green grass in the bright sunshine.

Lying flat on a caravan roof, leaning down to add finishing touches to the paintwork down one side.

Flecks of gold shimmered on his hands.

Gustav walking by with an approving nod.

Gustav. Checking in on Molly when the nights drew in.

Gustav, passing Toya an extra blanket when she whispered to him that Molly had nightmares and could he stay with her.

Gustav. Being lead away to serve sentence…

“Emp…” Molly croaked.

Lucien rallied. “Afraid I haven’t heard of him.”

Several eyes seemed to be weighing the tiefling up.

Molly swallowed and Lucien huffed quietly.

…

Mollymauk whistled softly as he picked his way through the chambers and out into the tower.

Even restored to his body, even after a day in the snow, he was not sleepy.

Not yet.

He wanted to dance and run and tell the stupidest jokes.

He wanted to knock upon every door in this place until he found his friends.

He wanted to curl up in bed beside Yasha.

He wanted to tell them he was here, he was right here. He wanted to tell them in his own words, with his own tongue.

But…

“Em…pty…” He tried again, valiantly, as he walked.

“Empty… Empty… Em-em-em-”

He had to give up and Lucien took over, pursing their lips and beginning to whistle once more. It was sort of soothing.

Then-

“Hey, Lucien?”

It was Jester, several floors below.

Molly stopped dead.

Lucien waited.

*Shall I?*

Molly nodded.

Lucien called down,

“Yes?”

The bright sunny voice came back at once.

“If you want a really fun tour, let me know! I can play a cool trick!”

“Do tell.” The reply may as well have come from Mollymauk himself.

In an instant, Jester had appeared hovering up to meet him on the upper level.

“Do you want to go? Do you want to see?”

“See what?” He asked.

“The fun stuff!” There was mischief in those eyes and the tiefling was at once intrigued.

“Sure.”

Jester held out a hand, wiggling gloved fingers.
“Do you truuuust me?”

Mollymauk answered at once, without thinking,

“E-”

But Lucien swooped in to stop him, seizing Jesters hand and watching her intently.

Then the world began to grow.

The vast hallway in which they stood was blooming before their eyes. Walls were elongating, rocketing upwards. The floor swept away in all directions.

Until-

Everything stopped.

Molly looked around and realized he was standing on all-fours.

He turned and saw that his tail had sprouted fur.

He was furry all over, in fact.

Rich red fur covered every inch of him, patterned with spiraling purple.

Then he spotted a bright blue cat standing a little ways down the hall. Beaming.

*Oh she is a clever one.* Lucien thought.

Molly set off after her, bounding along as they entered the little doorways into passages tunneling all over the tower.

It was remarkably freeing to be a cat.

It was harder to tell who was and was not controlling things as they ran and chased and explored.

Molly tried to communicate with Jester, but meowing could only get them so far.

He settled instead for bounding after her as she lead the way around and around, until their games were interrupted by Frumpkin.

After Jester left, Molly pranced around as a cat some more, eventually heading back to sit at the foot of his bed.

It was a long time before he fell asleep.

…

Chapter Text

Chapter 21. 'The Wizard is Mine.'

“You could’ve mentioned that you were being chased by a dragon!”

Lucien snarled, as Mollymauk drew both scimitars.

In the ensuing chaos, Molly began to feel a swell of panic.

He was rusty.

He had not fought anything for a long time.

*Instincts.* Lucien assured him. *I will tell you when I have a good shot at some magic, but until then just fight. It will come back to you.*

Molly gritted his teeth and nodded.

…

“Well! That’s a good turn of fate!” Lucien called over to everyone, watching the great dragon rising higher into the air clutching Beau.

“Let him have her!”

Of course this was the wrong thing to say, and of course it had the perfect desired effect.

“E-e…Empt…y?” Molly asked.

Lucien made the tieflings jaw twitch.

*Of course they must hate us. That is rather the point. Ensures they will keep coming after us and foil the plans. Might even kill me themselves, if they have any luck.*

Molly shook his head violently.

*I know, I know.* Lucien sighed. *You say they wouldn’t and I believe you. Just… Ah, it would make things much simpler.*

Molly scuffed his feet in the snow.

“Otis.” Lucien barked.

Wild hair appeared around Cree as the rest of the Tomb Takers collected their things and sheathed their weapons.

“Do you have it?”

Otis nodded.

“Good.”

Mollymauk stretched and rolled his shoulders.

His chest ached.

It hadn’t stopped.

“Then we leave tonight.”

…

It was hard. Knowing that the Mighty Nein loathed the very sight of him.

Even Yasha and Jester could not hide their displeasure following the days events.

And when Caleb opened the portal door into the tower mansion once more, he did not so much as glance at Mollymauk.

*Good.* Lucien assured him. *If they hate me they will want it finished.*

…

The tower was silent.

Perhaps it knew somehow, what was about to be done.

Mollymauk stood beneath the stained glass image of himself and bit his lip.

He had always joked about being a god. But now he had a taste of what he truly meant to these people.

It felt kind and caring and warm.

It felt like he was somehow very very important.

It felt like home.

Crimson beaded down the sweeps of colour one last time, lingering just a moment or two on the swishing coat tails… before the tiefling followed the rest of The Tomb Takers silently out of the magical tower.

…

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!”

Lucien yelled over the chaos.

The Tomb Takers fanned out, readying positions as they eyed the approaching group.

“I had hoped for a larger head start!” He fretted.

“E-e-emmptyyy…” Molly gasped, spinning on the spot to watch the Mighty Nein draw in upon them.

“Right.” Lucien snarled low. “Time to give them something to really wish us dead for.”

…

Hot bursts of blood trickled in pools down Beau’s cheeks.

Mollymauk grappled with all his remaining strength and tightened the squeeze at her throat.

“E….E….E…”

Lucien shot off another blast and Molly felt the radiating pulse of psychic damage hurtle through his own fingers.

Blood gurgled out of Beau’s mouth onto her chin.

*I won’t kill her.* Lucien swore. *I won’t.*

Mollymauk felt his arm beginning to sag.

He stared wide-eyed up at his friend. Beau hung in the air, barely fighting his grip.

“Emm…ppp…”

*Don’t!* Lucien hissed warningly. *Unless you want this to be the moment, right here, that you tell them?*

Molly shook his head, sending streaks of blood and snow flying all around him.

*Then just hold her.* Lucien instructed. *And try to look mean.*

Mollymauk flattened his brows into a tremendous scowl and growled harsh spitting noises.

*Much better.*

…

Mollymauk drew a shaky breath.

“The wizard is mine.” Lucien gasped, waving the rest of the Tomb Takers on.

*You’re sure?* He asked.

Molly nodded, picking up speed as he hurtled towards Caleb.

He had made up his mind.

Caleb would understand.

Caleb would see.

Everything was flying out of control and if he didn’t do something…

If he let the Mighty Nein leave without trying… Without showing them…

He had to try.

And Caleb was his best hope.

He pushed off the snow on trembling legs and tore towards the familiar ponytail of auburn hair.

The wizard was moving his hands but neither Molly or Lucien recognized the spell.

He had to get there first.

There were yells and cries and scrambling sounds nearly 60 feet away behind him.

Mollymauk did not turn back.

“E-Em…” He staggered as he came within earshot of Caleb.

Curved blades flashed as his hands dropped to his sides.

*Do you want me to..?* Lucien asked softly.

Molly nodded.

“Caleb!” Lucien cried out.

But the wizard stood, hackles up in a defensive stance, still working on the spell.

*Go.* Molly felt the second soul within him give a little nudge.

“E…Emmp…Empty!” He stuttered.

“Empty…”

Molly sheathed one scimitar, and took a tentative step closer.

Blue eyes stared unblinkingly at him.

“Empty…” Molly tapped his chest. A lurch of nausea struck him as his fingers hit the great scar down its centre.

The same hand reached out, extended towards Caleb. Pleading.

“Empty.” Mollymauk begged him to understand. “Empty… Empty… Empty.”

He was close enough now to count the freckles on the wizards nose.

“Caleb?” Lucien took over once more.

Mollymauk felt something hot trickle down the back of his throat.

“It is not real!” Lucien barked.

“E…empty?”

Molly waved a sword.

It passed straight through Caleb’s shoulder.

“EMPTY?!”

Molly howled in frustration and rage, drawing his second blade once again, hacking and slashing through the air at the fake impression of dear sweet darling Caleb.

Dear sweet darling Caleb, who needed to know. Who needed to see. Who could help. Who would help, no question.

Who… Was gone…

The teifling turned and began to sprint back across the snow.

But…

It was too late.

The Mighty Nein were lost in the snowstorm.

…

Chapter Text

Chapter 22. 'A Plan, a Note and a Plea.'

They were the only two left.

Cree lay curled in on her side, fresh bandages wrapped around her wounds.

Mollymauk sat awake.

Always awake.

He could not remember when he had stopped sleeping.

Was it a blessing? A gift from the city?

He was certain it was not.

Lucien missed dreams.

He missed memories.

He missed existing as Mollymauk.

For short bursts of time, he was not despised. Not cold. Not trudging through snow, searching for the next goal.

In those memories… he could just… live.

*Molly..?* The call came from the back of the tieflings mind.

“Empty.” Molly replied glumly.

*I think…*

Lucien hesitated.

*I think they will catch us soon. It won’t be long now.*

Molly shuffled his hands. They shivered as he sat watching the tunnels.

*Molly…*

“Empty?”

*I do not think I will survive this…*

“Empty! Empty… Empty!”

*Just a feeling. You taught me to listen to those.*

“Empty!”

Molly staggered to his feet and walked a little way out of the building they had secluded themselves in.

He thumped the side of his skull with the palm of his hand.

“Empty!”

*Hey hey!*

The tiefling drew a long deep shaky breath.

“Em…p…ty…”

*We will fix it.* Lucien soothed. *It’s just… It’s what I thought. It is exactly how I thought this could go… Right from the start. I… I saw how they looked at me, Molly. They need you. The world… Well, I don’t know about the world needing you, but I think the world would be a better place with you in it.*

“Empty.”

*You in this state does not count. And you know it. Molly… This Nonagon bullshit… I got so caught up in it… I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.*

“Empty?”

*You! You of course!*

“Empty…”

*Molly! I came from nothing. I had nothing. I found this path and clung onto it. I thought it was my purpose. I made it my entire being. I convinced myself I was going to make the world a better place. And I DID!*

“Empty…”

Molly kicked a pebble.

It clattered off the edge of the walkway and tumbled into the darkness.

*You know what came of my obsession with becoming the Nonagon?*

“Empty?”

Lucien closed in tight, hugging into Mollys soul.
*I made you. The best piece of me. The best thing I ever did. You. I made the world a better place by dying. It made a space for you. I did not understand before, but I do now. I can see it so clearly, Molly. You are it. You are who I wish I could be. You must survive this. Not me.*

“Empty…” Molly’s face crumpled.

He didn’t want Lucien to go.

It wasn’t fair.

*They will not stop.* Lucien murmured.

An image of the Mighty Nein filled the tiefling’s mind.

Grim determination on every face as they tore down the Tomb Takers.

Molly shook his head.

The memory faded.

In its place, came a simple thought.

An easy vision of merry faces around a campfire.

Simpler days.

Happier moments.

*See…* Lucien whispered close to Mollys heart.
*I have done nothing in my life which brought even half that much joy.*

“Empty…” Molly tried to protest.

*No, it’s true. I have done nothing for anyone else. I chased my own gain and that was it. You were right about me, about everything. I did not end up on this path because I was a happy person.*

Something moved in the dark.

The tiefling froze, ears pricked.

No more sound came.

Molly folded his arms, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Empty, empty empty.”

Lucien sighed gently.
*If I am lucky enough to survive… I would spend the rest of my days trying to be everything you are. Bring joy, spread happiness. Even the smallest things can make a difference. I wish I had known that before…*

“Empty…”

Molly felt his throat constrict as Lucien went on.

*I wish I had… had friends…*

The tiefling ground one foot into the floor.

Molly raised his hands out in front of him, and slowly brought them together.

“Empty.” He said firmly.

The fingers laced together.

Lucien smiled. Molly felt his mouth do the same.

*Thank you.*

***

“They left a note.”

Lucien took over as Molly frowned in confusion.

“Who?”

Cree stretched and yawned as they continued down the tunnel.

“Your entourage. I found it on your body.”

The tiefling blinked.

“What did it say?”

Cree waved a hand dismissively.

“Nothing of importance.”

Molly rounded on the tabaxi.

“Em- What did it SAY?” Lucien managed to catch their tongue before Molly began to yell.

Cree rolled her eyes.
“Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, please oh please come find us. We are the Mighty Nein, please oh please come and see The Gentleman.”

Molly snatched out a hand towards her.

“Give it to me.” Lucien snapped.

Cree shrugged.

“I burned it.”

“EMPTY?!” Mollymauk flew at her.

“What?” Cree took several hasty steps backwards.

Lucien growled.
“Why would you do such a pointless thing?”

Dark fur bristled as Cree set off walking again.

Mollymauk hurried to keep up.

“Pointless. Exactly. I got rid of a pointless distraction. And look- I was right to do it! They have dogged us ever since they discovered we had brought you back! They almost destroyed us back there!
Nonagon, they could ruin everything!”

*Good.* Lucien thought bitterly.

He could have known.

He could have understood.

He could have gone to them…

So much time could have been saved…

All with one note.

Cree was glaring at him over her shoulder.
“You are The Nonagon. You are going to succeed. I will not let you get dragged off track again.”

*

“Nonagon! Help me! Please!”

The tiefling could barely hear anything over the endless voices filling his head.

He sank to his knees, feeling great ripples rock through his skin, his muscles, his veins…

“E…e…m…p…t…y…”

Neither Lucien nor Mollymauk made any attempt to help Cree.

***

Chapter Text

FINAL CHAPTER, 23. ‘From Face to Sternum.’

The glaive rocketed through the air.

…..’RESPECT’…

Crooked teeth snarled above him…

*NO!!*

Flash.

The memory stung as clear as day.

The tiefling flat on his back in the mud.

The glaive savaged his insides and The Nonagon screamed.

*

“THAT WASN’T ME!!”

The tiefling’s mind was ablaze with voices.

Thousands of souls clammering for release, for the sweet taste of an ever after.

Cries and shouts from the Nein, desperate ramblings for a fallen friend.

The endless dark… Blood and hunger and power and might… Urging him on…

And a tiny spark.

Another voice.

A speck. A glint on a distant shore.

“Empty… Empty… Empty…”

The hunger roared.

The Nonagon attacked again…

*

White flecks of hair.

Bright eyes.

The Nonagon reared.

“You saved me once.”

The scent of honeysuckle and steel filled the tiefling’s lungs.

“Hopefully I can return the favour.”

A circus tent…

Dreams in a cavern…

Dancing and spinning and a young girl named T… T… Toya…

Watching a fire and being watched in return…

Fletching and… and… and..?

The city screamed.

The Nonagon swiped at the air with his claws.

*

Flame red hair was running heavy with scarlet beads.

Droplets formed at the base of his skull and ran and ran and ran.

Blue eyes… Faded into grey…

Etchings. Scrapings of words drifted back through.

“…your own life again…”

The wizard’s blood sat thick over the Nonagon’s hands.

“Time for that later…”

A tender moment in a hellish place…

So much fire.

Fire and ash.

From the ashes, they can rise.

Could a peacock arise as the phoenix does?

The city held no answers.

The city held no questions.

The city held only hunger. Needy, furious, vindictive hunger for blood.

Blood stuck between his fingers.

Blood oozing under his nails.

The tiefling seemed to remember there being varnish on those nails.

Once upon another time…

As Caleb’s lifeless form slips from his grasp, the voices shriek with mirth.

But the tiefling is struck dumb.

He knows that face…

Quiet stares over tavern meals…

Sideways glances always consumed with firey red.

Help.

Help even in the darkest of places.

Caleb…

Moondrop!

Yasha…

Fletching and Moondrop!

Friends…

Family…

Home…

Even a city so vast could not feel like home.

The tiefling had not felt at home for a long time…

WHOOOOOSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH BANG

Enraged howls engulphed the tieflings every thought.

“I know you’re in there, Molly!”

A searing bolt exploded inside his skin.

Blue swam before murky eyes.

“I love you so much and we want you back.”

Home…

“Lucien doesn’t deserve you.”

A strangled cry burst from the tiefling’s lips.

It burned as it left him.

It burned in harmony with the tears pouring down his cheeks.

It burned like Caleb.

Like Yasha.

Like home…

The city ignited.

At once, a blast seeming to stretch for miles ripped through the air.

One last final tug.

New voices rang out now.

Great waves of rejoicing, singing their thanks. Hundreds of thousands as the city fell into dead silence.

And The Nonagon fell with them.

Down.

Down.

Into the black…

*

Lucien scrabbled, tugging, heaving, exhausted but determined.

*I will not go back in the dirt.*

Hands scraped and pulled.

Gods it hurt…

*I will NOT go back in the DIRT.*

It hurt.

Dying hurt.

*Molly?*

*…em…p…t…y…*

*MOLLY*

Dying hurt.

It tore him apart and it split them in two.

*I can save you! I can save both of us! I can… I can…*

Death had forged them into being.

*Molly?!*

*e…m…p…t…y…*

The sweet soft lilt was fading.

And the tiefling knew who it was, at last safe back in his own mind.

*Don’t go without me…*

Claws stung as Lucien drove them deeper, franticly scrambling for a grip.

Oh gods how it hurt…

Still Lucien dug and dug, savaging the dirt. He would tear them out. He would get them out.

Out. Out. OUT.

He could feel Molly’s thread unraveling.

About to vanish.

Away.

Away from him.

Away from the world.

One soul split.

Fractured.

Broken forever.

*MOLLY*

*e…..m……..p…..*

The word died out.

Mollymauk was gone.

Lucien burst open with pain and loss, and as he ripped at the dirt he realized…

It was not dirt at all.

The tiefling’s body tore. From face to sternum.

And then his hands dropped.

And then he crumpled onto the ground…

*
*
*

Warm…

How wonderful to be warm…

It had been an eternity since there had been warm...

The soft caress of kind hands lifted, drawing their warmth with them.

Then it slowly ebbed away, replaced by a shock of cold and a hard stone floor.

…’Respect’…

The word echoed around and around.

A piercing blow.

A cruel twist buried him in the dirt.

But that must have only been a moment ago…

Fight!

Save them!

Jester and Fjord and Yasha needed their help.

Mollymauk sprang up before his eyes had even fully opened.

He was reaching for his scimitars but they were nowhere.

He tore forwards in a daze, a rush, a mad sprint to get between Lorenzo and-

And-

…He looked around.

This was not where he had died.

*Lucien?!*

But no answer came.

*LUCIEN?!*

Silence remained.

For the first time in so so long…

The tieflings mind was unoccupied.

He was alone.

Lucien was gone.

Crimson eyes stung as he turned to stare all around him, only half aware that he was not wearing a stitch of clothing.

“E…m…p…t…y…”

Cold walls.

“Em…p…t…y…”

Collapsing streets.

“Empty… Empty, empty… empty…”

Buildings on top of buildings on top of…

“Molly?”

Faces emerged before him.

Colours and shapes and people.

He knew them at once.

Flame red hair, piercing blue eyes staring and alive and alive and alive!

“Magician…”

The man nodded slowly.

“Tinker..?” He searched for the goblin…

She appeared.

Mollymauk tilted his head.

Happiness lit him up and he turned to the burst of gasps coming from his right.

“Joy…”

Jester beamed, dancing on tiptoes.

Something dropped like a splash of rain into the tieflings recollection. Somebody should be with her, somebody named…

“Sea…”

The half-orc wore an incredulous smile.

Good.

But there were more…

“Rumour…” He entoned, eyeing the stony woman stood before him.

She stuck up her middle finger.

One day soon, he would smile back.

But just now, the world was much… too … heavy…

Mollymauk laid down and continued to breathe.

Had he been breathing all this time?

Yes.

It felt good.

To just… breathe.

“I’m Yasha.” The woman swept into his vision in a whirl. Dark and light hair and mismatched eyes and a rich sweet comforting smell which burrowed into his pores and nestled against his heart.

“Love!” The reply came at once.

Mollymauk sat up and threw his arms around her.

*

“Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities!”

..

“Molly to my friends, and we’re friends now aren’t we!”

..

“This is Yasha, she’s the charm!”

*

He knew them.

He knew his friends.

He knew his family.

And he knew his-

Mollymauk looked around,
“Home..?”

Everybody nodded and agreed to make their way back.

They had so much to tell him. So much to do.

So many new adventures to be had.

Soon.

But first- Home

Hands were clasped and held tightly.

Mollymauk gripped onto Yasha and knew that he would not let go again for a very long time.

The plane-shifting spell flashed.

For one brief moment it illuminated the entire space.

Bloodstains matting the ground…

Rocks and rubble where houses once had been…

A tangle of meat where The Nonagon fell…

And…

Just for a split second…

Out of the corner of his eye…

Padding gently away through the rubble…

Mollymauk spied a familiar figure.

Lavender skin…

Looping horns…

And just two glinting crimson eyes that turned towards the group.

Lucien raised one soft hand in farewell…

And Mollymauk Tealeaf knew that the other part of his soul would do such wonderful things.

The two halves shared a secret smile. For them and them alone.

As the Mighty Nein departed from the Astral Sea.

.
.

The End

Chapter Text

Chapter 24- 'Brothers'
.

Things were perfect.

Until they weren't.

Food was good. Hot and filling the tieflings stomach.

Talk was good. The others chattered away around him, to him, keeping him in their sight always.

But he could not join in.

Eager eyes always flicked to him, expecting something, anything.

Mollymauk half began to expect it too.

Nothing came though.

He could muster some small words, but it made him so... tired.

He was exhausted.

His head burned and his chest pounded and his insides were missing something very very important.

He loved these people so much. The ones he remembered, at least.

Yasha stayed like a guard at his side.

Jester showered him with affection and attempts to tease out his old self.

Caleb watched him with sorrowful eyes.

Molly had been so sure. So certain.

He had believed that everything would fall back into place, if he could only be near them again.

He would be himself again and they would be the Nein again.

He would be a sparkling delight of a happy person.

He tried.

For himself, for them, and for Lucien. Mollymauk tried.

But still his tongue knotted itself into silence, his head swam with fog, and his old friends seemed suddenly so very far away.

They had changed while he had been gone.

He was so proud of them.

But he also saw something.

Something jarring and silent that nobody seemed to want to directly address.

His place was gone.

They wanted him, but they did not need him.

They hardly knew what to do with him now they had him there.

Molly hardly knew himself.

Of course there had been hugs. So so many hugs. And kisses and tears and clasped hands.

He held on as close as he could.

But he was dazed. The world was bright and new and the tiefling felt distinctly out of place in it.

The strangest part was...

He was not sad about it.

Life was fleeting, life was a whim.

He had drank his fill.

Somehow, Molly felt that his remaining here like this was robbing some other of their chance.

He wondered whether this feeling would ever leave him.

Mollymauk missed Lucien.

He missed Lucien as much as he had missed Yasha.

He wished he could hold on to them both.

But Yasha had new adventures to attend to.
New life sparkled in her face. It lit her up and it made Mollys heart burst for her.

She deserved so much. More than anyone could ever give, but clearly Beau was willing to try.

He was happy for them both.

He tried to tell them. He picked pink flowers that looked like Love, and gave them each to Yasha and beau.

They smiled in bewilderment.

Mollymauk smiled too and wandered away through the hazey world to find a place to sit.

Jester showed him cards.

He enjoyed the pictures. He recognised them.
He was touched that she had kept them.

He found a spring of water and sat down to watch the speckles of blue dancing over and under one another.

It made him imagine the ocean.

Mollymauk thought of Pirates.

A soft smile flickered across his lips.

He curled up on the stones and fell into sleep.

And while he slept, Mollymauk dreamed.

Dreams which for the first time in an age- were wholly his own.

They were neither happy nor sad.

He felt some nagging pain, saw some flashes of chains blackened with blood.
He smelled sweet spices, felt the touch of friendly hands.

On and on the tiefling slept.

The circus danced around him.

Glittering crowds and beaming performers.

Curved swords, parlour tricks, wit and energy and bathing in the little moments.

Explosions wound through the dark sky.

Molly watched them with a heart as light as air.

Then, another dream began to smudge through.

One Molly had never seen before.

One he had never pried into.

Yet here it lay at his feet.

A dank sidestreet.

Old rotting corpses.

Cold wind through the cracks of ancient dilapidated houses.

A longing yearning tearing through his bones.

And hunger.

Lonely, quiet hunger.

*Lucien...*

A past he had only guessed at.

A life he had never known.

*He must be lonely now.*

Mollymauk twitched in his sleep.

*Where is he?*

He knew in that moment, if the opportunity arose, he would take it without question.

He had seen his friends.
He loved them more than anything.
But they no longer needed him.
And that, in a way, was the biggest compliment.
He had lived that life. Been that person.

And now...

Now, there was somewhere else he wanted to be. Someone else he wanted to walk with.

...

Somewhere beside him, soft footsteps crept over the stones.

A gentle touch caressed his hair.

Molly smiled as he slept on.

Words came then.
A softly uttered spell, a hope, a prayer.

A tender kiss pressed into his cheek.

Then...

Heat.

Warm, hot heat.

It forged its way through him.

And it forged a new him.

As a new life soared into being.

And Mollymauk felt his soul slip away.

...

Kingsley did not know where his desire to become a Pirate came from.
But something hung about in a scrap of his heart.

Something he learned from the Mighty Nein, used to be called 'Mollymauk.'

Something he came to call 'brother.'

And he listened to it. All the way to sea.

...

Lucien laid down his bag and sank onto the musty bed with a long deep sigh.

His skin was clear and empty. No red eyes, no ink.

*Brand new.* He thought.

*Brand new and still learning.*

He rubbed his face in his hands, reaching for the corner of a blanket to rub away the dust and grime from the road.

This was his first big city. He was determined to explore it from top to bottom.

Starting tomorrow.

He had been walking for days and now wanted nothing but a long sleep.

The air was sticky with heat.

The tiefling soaked it up, revelling in being as far away from the snow and ice as a month of travel could get him.

His mind had become noiseless.

And with every passing day, the tiefling had realised just how much he missed the chatter Mollys piece of his soul had brought.

He was determined not to wallow.

But he could not help the memories which clung to him like garments.

He had not tried to shake them away.

He was certain it would not work even if he did.

"Mhmm... bed." Lucien grunted, beginning to kick off his boots.

The clothes were all new.

Most scavenged, some gifted by kind strangers. Lucien was learning to trust. It was an unsettling journey, but one he was determined to see through.

The breeches were blue, the belt green. The long rumpled shirt was a cool faded yellow.
He rose to shrug the long coat from his shoulders, and took a moment despite his exhaustion to hang it up carefully on the hook by the door.

It was scarlet and gold. Hammed in deep purple.

It was his prized possession. The first thing this new Lucien had ever bought.
It had cost him three weeks labour; running errands, deliveries, and sweeping up the tailors shop he had stumbled across a couple of towns back.

*Niiiiice!*

Lucien nearly jumped out of his fresh skin.

"MOLLY?!"

The cheerful lilt whirled in his mind and his heart and his soul.
*The one and only.*

"What are you doing here?"

Molly hesitated.

*I missed you. Fuck knows why.*

Lucien could not suppress a grin.

"But you- you were- you, wait- did something go wrong? You had our body- your body- it-"

Molly hushed him and Lucien felt a calm sooth the words away.

*I gave someone else a turn.* Molly explained. *It was time.*

"But, the nein..?"
Lucien breathed.

*They had me for a while.* Molly smiled through Lucien's heartbeat. *But hey, can't have too much of a good thing.*

Lucien crossed the little tavern room to sit back down again on the bed with his back against the wall.

"So... Are you here, to stay?" The question came before he was ready to hear the answer.

*If you'll have me?*

"Can you still...?"

"I dunno, let's see- ha! What do you know, it worked!" Molly spoke aloud fully for the first time in so so long.

Lucien allowed him to laugh. Letting Molly in was no longer a request- it was always a constant permission.

He thought his next ask,
*I am more than willing to share this life with you, if you want?*

"Like, what, two Tealeafs one body?"

"Brothers?" Lucien offered.

"Brothers..." Molly mulled that idea over.

The lavender tiefling rested his arms behind his horns and lay back, content.

"That would be delightful."

Mollymauk and Lucien drifted to sleep with a deep warm smile playing at their lips.

...

The (Other) End.

Chapter Text

Extra Chapter- ALTERNATIVE ENDING not in-line with the rest of the fic.

The Nonagon screeched and roared.

This was NOT how things were supposed to go.

He had everything.

He had done it!

Everything he had been working for. But now…

Now it was being thwarted by a bunch of pining imbeciles.

Every hit they managed to land on him knocked him into a feverish rage.

How DARE they?!

“You’re killing her! You LOVE HER! YOU’RE KILLING HER!” The wizard was yelling now.

The Nonagon lashed out, slinging the blue tiefling’s body aside into the wall. Where it impacted with a sickening SMACK.

But it was not enough…

They just…

Kept.

On.

Getting.

Back.

Up!

Lucien could not understand it. And his bitter bile turned into the Nonagon’s fury.

On and on it went, and with each second he was losing.

HOW WAS HE LOSING?!

He was The Nonagon!

They descended upon him.

The damned wizard sent a huge barbed glaive straight into his chest.

“Snap out of it, Tealeaf. We need you!”

A FLASH of recognition ignited his mind.

Unwelcome.

Unwanted.

Mud and filth and a dusty road.

A monster of a man, driving just such a weapon straight through his heart.

Blood pouring from his mouth.

Eyes never shut…

Lucien bellowed.

They were all enclosing him.

They could kill him.

They could destroy it all…

He would not let them.

And then the tiefling had a tremendous idea.

With a humungous effort, he forced the elongated limbs to relax.

The Nonagon fell limp, and dropped onto his knees.

Many crimson eyes stared up at the ratty wizard, looming over him.

Lucien spoke. And he took great pains to tweak his voice into a soft, rasping plea.

“Caleb…?”

The man stopped dead.

Somewhere over the far side of the space, voices faltered.

Lucien took up the refrain again.

“Caleb..?” He gasped, clutching at his chest with a clawed hand as he stared and stared up at the redhead, who stared back.
“Please… Don’t…”

The wizard’s hands dropped to his sides.

Lucien had to concentrate hard not to grin.

“It is him.” Caleb had turned to halt the others as they raced to his side.

The blue girl was wide-eyed.
“Oh my god, Molly?!”

The Nonagon offered her a shaky hand.
“Y…yes… I… It’s… me.” He rasped.

There were shouts from the others now.

“Molly?!”

“Is it?”

“Oh my god!”

“How?!”

Lucien remained on the ground, reaching out to them.

The Mighty Nein drew nearer, clammering to help him to his feet, to brush him down, to hug into which ever part of him they could reach.

Every one of them lowered their weapons.

The blue tiefling bounded forwards.

“Oh my god, Molly! We missed you so-”

SLASH

The Nonagon sliced through the girls throat like it was butter.

SLAM

Claws struck out.

One, two, three, four.

Down they toppled.

Tall ones. Short ones.

Strapping green arms grabbing onto the blue tiefling, shouts and cries.

Cut short.

And then only three remained.

The barbaric woman with a mass of white hair.

The wizard, face and clothes splattered with the fresh blood of his slain friends.

And Lucien, The Nonagon.

A cold cackle rose up his throat.

It bit into the air and echoed through their minds.

Lucien stepped forwards.

He would dispose of them now and forever.

His final trial would be over.

He would be the victorious Nonagon.

Caleb went first.

He toppled like a stack of cards and Lucien laughed again as the tower crushed him into dust.

Then crimson eyes rounded on the last member of the Mighty Nein.

“Join me…”

He crooned.

One last offer.

The woman was breathing hard, sweat pouring mingling with the blood pouring from a dozen wounds all over her.

“Give him back.” Her voice was a quiver but it rang out strong.

Lucien advanced on her.

One step.

Two steps.

“Your play pal is gone.” He hissed. “He was never coming back. He should never have existed at all. Now at last, everything it set to rights.”

.

She fought until her last gasp.

But soon, there he stood. Fingers tight about the woman’s throat, squeezing as he pumped blast after blast into her.

Rivers of rich red soaked from her eyes.

And when Lucien felt the very last piece of life vacate her, he threw the body aside with the others.

The city bellowed.

Lucien basked in it.

He stood, arms held aloft, bathing in the screams and cries and encouragement in his mind.

Nine eyes burned.

And the Nonagon was victorious.

*