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Chapter Text

Maggie Lavici found the rope in a shed.

It was nearly as thick as her arm. Moist and green with mold and whatever else was growing on it in the years since it’s been abandoned in this corner.

It was honestly disgusting and Maggie would never have touched it under ordinary circumstances.

But it had to be enough for what she was about to do.

.  .  .

A person who commits suicide commits a grave sin, one of her teachers had droned on in a lesson. They would rather throw their life away than give it to Titan, and turn their backs on the one who saved them. How ungrateful.

Then the teacher showed them a footage of a woman who hung herself. The footage had been too blurry for Maggie to see the woman’s expression, but Maggie remembered the wet crack when her neck was snapped, the dirt-covered soles of her feet drooping in the air. Utterly detached from life, always and forever.

Is this how you want to end up, the teacher said as the students muttered to one another, their faces at once fascinated and horrified.

Suddenly, Ava’s back had snapped up straight, her eyes filling with a strange red light.

Maggie tugged at Ava’s shirt, trying to draw her back from whatever crazy thing she was going to do. It didn’t work, though. It almost never did.

“That’s exactly how I want to end up!” Ava said, loudly, gleefully. Then the scarlet shine receded. And she was back to the shy and timid girl she always was, shrinking from the harsh glare of the teacher and the shocked gazes of her classmates.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, please…” Ava faltered.

The teacher sighed. “Why would you—you know what, I don’t get paid enough for this. Go to the principal’s office. Maggie, go with her to make sure she’s actually where she’s supposed to be.”

Once they were in the hallway, tears had gathered in Ava’s eyes and were steadily dripping down her cheeks.

Maggie sighed and handed her a crumpled-up piece of tissue from her pocket. “I don’t understand why you do things like that. You’re always so quiet, and suddenly, you just go boom!” She made an exploding gesture with her hands.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to, either,” Ava said. “It’s—remember how I told you about the ghost? She’s always making me—”

Maggie rolled her eyes, took Ava’s hand in her own, gave it a firm squeeze. “The ghost’s not real. The doctors said so.”

“I guess…” Ava still looked miserable, which bothered her.

But something else bothered her more. Ava’s face after they watched the footage, washed out and faded under the light of the holo-film, had looked almost …

Hopeful.

She stopped, and Ava was forced to stutter to a halt beside her.

“Promise me something,” she said.

“Maggie, what—”

“Promise me you’ll never kill yourself.”

Ava huffed and tried to pull her hand away. “Oh please—”

Maggie pulled her back. “I mean it! Seriously. If you have problems, I can always help you.” She threw her hair back over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “Or am I not good enough?”

Ava looked panicked. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, then,” Maggie said. “You can promise me.”

For a moment, Maggie was afraid she would refuse. But then Ava sighed. “Fine. I promise.”

.  .  .

It was funny, in a way.

Because it wasn’t Ava who was going to kill herself now.

It was Maggie.

Chapter Text

Did Maggie really want to die?

She wasn’t so sure herself, as she yanked the stiff rope into a knot on the light fixtures.

All she knew was that she wanted to make Ava suffer.

.  .  .

Selfish. Loveless. Slut. How sad. How pathetic.

“Stop it!” Maggie had screamed at her.

Ava didn’t stop. If anything, she laughed harder, with the same feverishness as when she acted up in class, the last time and a million times before.

And one by one, Ava took the quietly whispered secrets, the passed notes, the shared stories—sharpened them into blades, sliced her open until Maggie felt that her flesh hung off her in strips and her blood ran in rivulets across the floor.

She did a thing she never thought she would do.

Crack.

Ava looked stunned for a moment, her hand flying to the red mark blooming across her cheek. Her eyes cleared. And normal Ava, quiet, harmless little Ava, returned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Her fingers shook as she reached for Maggie.

A wave of revulsion flooded through her. Maggie took a step back. Two.

She turned and fled the room.

Chapter Text

Maggie balanced herself on the stacked boxes, struggling to place her chin on the loop of the thick rope, swearing when she felt herself almost slip.

She huffed. Really. Even dying had to be hard, didn’t it?

She allowed herself a last look around Ava’s dormitory, where Ava would be sure to find her after dinner.

Maggie was sure that Ava did care about her. They’d been best friends since—Maggie couldn’t even remember when.

Ava had cared about her and still said those things to her. If they had hated each other, perhaps Maggie would not mind as much. But this—this made Maggie ground her teeth and dig her nails into her palms.

And so Maggie would make her suffer too. She imagined Ava’s scream, her cries, her sorrys and pleases, but no matter how much she begged, Maggie would be beyond her reach. The thought sent some measure of satisfaction through her.

With that in mind, Maggie braced herself and jumped.

There was no release, no quick snap to cut her loose from life.

Instead, the rope dug into her skin with all the weight of her body, choking her lungs from breath. The sensation was agony within seconds.

She clawed the rope, kicked her legs. There was no leverage for her to pull against. Maggie could only flail uselessly in the air.

She must not have tied the rope correctly, was her last thought before the world faded into darkness.

Chapter Text

“You … are dying.”

Her eyes opened at the deep voice.

“What?” Maggie said. The world was light and airy. When she looked down, she was transparent, floating off the ground.

A stereotypical ghost. She snorted, holding her hands out. Through the flesh of her hands, she could see—

Maggie screamed, stumbling backwards.

The gigantic figure didn’t seem perturbed by her shriek in the least.

He gestured a clawed hand to the space behind her, the skin rough looking and tinted with hazel and green. Like the bark of the trees she’d seen only in documentaries and novels.

It was just as transparent as hers was.

“You … are dying,” he repeated.

Maggie looked back. There was her body, still twisting uselessly in the rope.

“Well?” She tried, but she really couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice. “So what? So are you.”

“It’s a … pity.” His words had an odd lag to them, but his eyes were anything but slow.

“What the hell does that mean?” she said.

“We both … want something. But … we will never have them now.”

“I don’t want anything.” Maggie was terrified, but she was also already dead. Or nearly dead. She floated beside the giant and gave him a shove. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He swayed slightly, but still turned to look at her. “I know … desire … when I see it. Is this … worth giving up … that something?”

“This,” Maggie pointed at her body behind her, whose twitches were becoming less frequent. “Is worth everything.”

“Hm,” he said.

“What,” she said again, her teeth grounding, “is that supposed to mean?”

“A mere schoolgirl’s … petty revenge. Do you think … anyone on this miserable … planet … will care?”

“Shut up!” The words were like a sudden hit in the face. Our of all things, she was not expecting him to say that.

“This … Ava … I hear you say,” he continued. “She’ll weep. For a while … that is the nature of friendship. But she will forget. She will … grow up. And you …” An odd expression crossed his face. Regret. Concern. Derision. “Are gone.”

“Shut up,” Maggie wanted to scream at him, but only a whisper escaped. “Shut up.”

“Burnt … into ashes. Tossed … in the wind. Forgotten forever.”

Whatever fire Maggie had gathered up to spit at him sputtered out, leaving her bare and defenseless. Curling in around herself, she buried her face in her arms. “Stop. Please.”

“But it … doesn’t have to happen.” He made his way closer to her. “Make a pact with me.”

“I don’t—”

“Let our souls bond … so we may both live,” he said. “The pact will be fulfilled once we … satisfy the terms. Then we can go our separate ways.” His hand settled over her shoulder, heavy but friendly. Like a father’s touch. Or a salesman’s. “You have nothing to lose.”

“What are the terms?” Maggie asked, not understanding but not caring either.

“For us to help the other fulfill their deepest desires.” The man pulled himself away from her and straightened. “My wish is to confess my love to one who I care most about, Ranunculae. State your wish.”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re almost out of time.” He pointed at her arm. And it was true. Motes of weak light were streaming away from her already, winking out like salt melted in water.

I want Ava, Maggie nearly said. I want to know why she said those things to me. I want to know what I did wrong.

But what use was this? Even if they made up, what Ava did could never be taken back. It will always be there, a buried bomb waiting to be set off.

“I want to find love,” Maggie said. “True love. Someone who really cares.”

“So be it.” He held out his hand.

Maggie hesitated. Then she took it.

And the world twisted, swirled, exploded into light.

“My name is Magnolia Lavici,” she told him.

His voice reached her just before all faded away again. “Tuls Tenebrose.”

.  .  .

“Maggie!” It sounded like Ava.

She cracked her eyes open. Her throat throbbed. She turned her head, and found the room in a mess of overturned boxes. The rope laid limply beside her, snapped.

Ava gaped at her, tears still dripping from the end of her nose onto Maggie’s forehead, her hand gripped tightly on Maggie’s. “You’re alive—”

Maggie sat up, and pushed Ava aside. She left without a word.

.  .  .

That night, in her bed, Maggie decided that the tree-man-figure thing wasn’t real. He must have been a hallucination, something her brain cooked up on the brink of death. The rope must have snapped because it was fraying.

She wasn’t some lunatic like Ava, after all, always hiding her actions behind some so-called ghost.

Pressing a fingertip against the red welts on her neck, Maggie shuddered. The touch was painful, but nowhere as painful as the rope twisting around her neck to choke the life out of her.

Nothing, in the past or future, could ever be this painful. How could she be so stupid? How could she do this to herself?

The only answer was that she didn’t. Ava did it. She committed the worst betrayal possible—and with that, she might as well have strangled Maggie with her own hands.

Uneasily, her eyes slipped shut and she drifted off to sleep.

Almost immediately, she opened her eyes to warm sunlight. Looking down, she saw that she was wearing a yellow dress, the color simple but full. Unlike any clothing she’d worn before.

“Is this a dream—” She sat up.

Tuls Tenebrose was sitting in front of her. “Hello, Magnolia.”

Maggie stared at him, a heavy ball of dread curling in her stomach.

Ava’s fault.

All Ava’s fault.

Chapter Text

“Stop it,” Ava snapped. “Stop ruining my life.”

Wrathia’s form, burning a bright orange, grinned and placed her hand on Ava’s cheek in a show of mock affection. “But there’s not much of a life to ruin, now is there?”

Then the smile twisted, and her face melted into fury. “You know what would be beneficial to the both of us? Your death. That way, you are freed from your miserable existence, and I am freed from haunting your pathetic excuse of a body. It’s a simple thing. Jump from the building! Throw yourself in the pool! The list is endless.”

“No.”

“No? Why not? There is nothing left for you in this life, Ava Ire.”

“I promised Maggie,” Ava said.

Wrathia looked genuinely startled for a moment, before throwing her head back, roaring with laughter. “Oh, I can’t believe it. Even you have to be better than that! Maggie hates you!"

“And who’s fault is that?” Ava couldn’t help but shout, her voice cracking at the end, before she realized what she did and clapped her hands over her mouth.

The bed by the opposite wall creaked, and a sleepy voice spoke up. “Shut the fuck up, Ire. If you’re going to be crazy do it quietly.”

Ava swallowed a scream and tried to apologize.

Wrathia’s hand settled on Ava’s shoulder.

At once, Ava’s mind was brutally pushed aside to make space for Wrathia’s consciousness, her connection to her limbs snapping like strings on a puppet.

Suddenly, her body did not belong to her any longer.

Don’t. She begged Wrathia. Please.

Against her will, she felt her mouth open. And the scream she buried was forced back out.

The room was deathly silent as soon as the noise died. Even trapped behind a mental cage, Ava could feel the fear wafting off her dormmate. But Wrathia was not done yet. Words that were not hers bubbled up Ava’s throat. Ava knew they were not just meant for her dormmate, but for her. “I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

And abruptly, it was over. Wrathia smirked at Ava, sharp teeth gleaming, before disappearing off to wherever she went when she wasn’t torturing her.

And Ava, as always, was left with a mess.

“I-I’m sorry,” Ava said.

There was no response to her apologies.

No response from her dormmate, who moved out immediately the next day. No response from teachers and classmates.

Maggie responded, though. With a sneer. With a poisonous word, placed just in the right place. With her head turned away from whatever explanation Ava could beg her with. Not that Ava blamed her. Or did she?

Ava loved Maggie. Ava hated Maggie.

Chapter Text

Years later, after long and hard years of battle, after the fall of Titan and his followers, after the world had finally righted itself into some semblance of order, Ava Ire was dying.

Odin was sitting beside her in bed, his hands wound tightly around hers. The sun was setting, washing the room with warm oranges and yellows.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door.

They both knew it was Maggie. No matter the amount of animosity, it was impossible to not memorize someone’s footsteps over a decade of surviving with each other.

They’d looked to each other. Ava nodded, but even before she’d started the gesture Odin had pressed a kiss to her temple and went to open the door, the bed creaking with the shift of weight.

“L-lavici,” Odin said as she stepped in.

“Arrow,” Maggie answered.

Odin gave her a hard stare, which Maggie returned, before her gaze softened. “I know, Odin,” she said quietly.

Odin looked pained, but he nodded. With a last glance at Ava, he left the room.

Maggie stood at the front of the bed, a bit awkwardly.

“Come on.” Ava gestured at a chair beside the bed. “Sit.”

She did as she said.

The two girls, who were girls no longer, studied each other as they never have since their fight. Over the years, Ava had looked at Maggie in many ways. In anger. In derision. In fear. Even in camaraderie. But not like this, with the both of them trying to understand each other.

“You’re dying,” Maggie said. There was no malice, or glee. Only a simple statement of fact.

“I am.” Ava’s voice was just as even.

“Why?”

Ava laughed. The sound was weak even to her own ears. “I was not under the impression that dying was a choice.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Maggie smiled wryly. “You have everything now. Victory. Worship of the masses. Friends. Family. Odin. So I ask again. Why?”

“You remember I have a pact with Wrathia. To complete it, she has to give me a new life. And to have a new life, you must shed your old one.” She gestured to herself, her formerly strong body now thinning down to only skin and bones. “This is the pact magic shedding my old life.”

“Surely the pact has a wider range of interpretation.”

Ava shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’d like to start over.”

“What about everything you earned, then?”

They stared at each other, lapsing into silence. Neither was willing to give in.

“Why are you here, Maggie?” Ava finally said.

“I ...” Maggie hesitated. Then more quietly, “I remember our promise. After you shocked the entire classroom with your declaration.”

“Ah, yes.” Ava closed her eyes. “How I long for those days again. Yet also how I long to forget them. Tell me, Maggie. Will you forgive me for your suicide?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She knew that now, so many years later. “Wrathia—”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

Maggie said nothing.

“Exactly.” Ava took Maggie’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze—as firm as she could manage, anyway. “I loved you, Maggie. Still love you. But some things couldn’t be mended. I have everything, it’s true, and right this moment I wouldn’t give it up for the world. But all that happened, what it took to get here, what I did to get here, it’s—” Ava sighed. “It weighs on me, drags me down. Even if there was no pact, it would kill me. I’m tired. I want out.”

Maggie pressed her other hand into Ava’s as well. “Alright,” she said. “Alright.”

They sat together, watching the sun dip over the horizon outside the windows, leaving only faint traces of gold in the darkening sky.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” Ava whispered.

“So am I,” Maggie said. She stood to leave. “Goodbye, Ava.”

Her eyes glowed a dull red in the dusk. “Goodbye, Magnolia.”