If cosmic force is real at all,
it’s come between you and I.
—
Black Swan isn’t from this timeline, let alone this universe—and neither is the woman standing at the bar besides her.
Having done her job as a Timekeeper for eons, Black Swan can pick up the subtle differences in existence when it comes to someone who’s meant to be in the current timeline versus someone who’s decided to take a vacation there, for better or for worse. Needless to say, she’s gotten used to picking up the minute vibrations that come off of a person who’s been traveling through worldlines—and the extremely attractive woman next to her has definitely been traveling.
Black Swan usually kills the time-travelers she’s come across as soon as she’s picked up their scent, leaving no room for any conversation, but she holds back for this one. Her dagger stays sheathed in her thigh-belt just beneath her short black dress as she tilts her head towards the stranger.
Most time-travelers have learned to suppress the unnatural movement of their atoms to slip under the nose of Timekeepers, whether it be by magical items hidden in their pockets or getting painfully injected with stabilizers on the regular. It doesn’t make them entirely unnoticeable, but it requires Timekeepers to get very close to them to spot anything off.
This woman, however, has made no effort to hide her abnormalities. Black Swan felt her presence from miles and miles away, felt the very moment that the woman landed in this timeline like an earthquake in her chest. Black Swan, who’d been moments away from jumping to another dimension, immediately made her way to find out who the hell had the audacity to exist so blatantly and so wrongly .
When she’d entered the club, she instantly found the reason for her own heart going off kilter; a beautiful woman with long purple hair and eyes that match. Wearing knee-high black boots, black shorts that show off her thigh tattoo; a red and purple flame, and a layering of a white tank top underneath a short black jacket, she is striking. More tattoos, of something like lightning strikes, disappear under her jacket.
Attractiveness aside, the stranger practically has a brightly glowing neon sign above her head that says ‘I am a time-traveler! Timekeepers, come get me!’
And that is what keeps Black Swan from immediately killing her. It intrigues her. She wonders whether the woman next to her is just obtusely naive or incredibly confident, and she doesn’t like leaving questions unanswered.
Black Swan still has yet to get the time-traveler’s attention. She takes one step closer and it’s enough to get the mysterious woman to spare her a side-glance.
When they make eye-contact, Black Swan gives a small smile and leans in, speaking close to the woman’s ear so she can be heard over the thumping music of the dingy club that they’re in.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Black Swan asks.
As she leans back, she expects to see a flicker of recognition, surprise, or even fear in the woman’s eyes—but she sees nothing. The woman looks at her as if she hadn’t said a single word, violet eyes staring blankly back at Black Swan.
Black Swan feels a thrilled shiver run down her spine. This woman is definitely different. She’s not sure how, but Black Swan knows that there’s something behind that emotionless stare.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is surprisingly smooth and calm. Black Swan had expected something more from the woman—overconfidence or hostility—but like her stare, the woman’s tone is devoid of emotion.
Black Swan’s left eyebrow twitches upwards in surprise and slight disbelief. “You don’t know?”
The woman gives the faintest shake of the head.
Black Swan looks around the dark club, trying to spot anybody that seems unnecessarily interested in the two of them for more reasons than the both of them being pretty women. She finds nothing and turns her attention back to the stranger.
She leans in again, and is pleasantly surprised when the stranger leans in with her, angling her head to the side to give Black Swan easier access to her ear. Black Swan’s smile grows.
“Let me rephrase myself,” Black Swan says in a whisper, close enough to the woman’s ear to speak at such a low volume. Her lips brush against the woman’s earlobe. “I know you’re not from around here.”
The woman’s head turns abruptly and their lips would have touched if not for Black Swan leaning away at the same time.
This time, Black Swan spots something in those striking violet eyes, something that borders on desperation.
“You know something about me?”
“Yes,” Black Swan answers. She spares another careful glance around them and then reaches to take the stranger’s hand. “Come now, gorgeous. We shouldn’t talk about this here.”
—
Black Swan is simultaneously less than and more than a human. She’s a soul that travels into whatever vessel can contain her for the sole purpose of keeping the timeline on track. She’s been many creatures, and has continued to be them—or at least parts of them—long after she’s switched vessels.
She remains in her human form the most—it is the form she was born in, after all. The other Timekeepers tease and look down on her for choosing the human form as her main connection to the physical world. They say that’s why she’s too emotional and sensitive, but Black Swan pays them no mind.
As she guides the pretty stranger across town to her hotel room, Black Swan feels the phantom sensation of wolf ears twitching at the hint of noise. She freezes and looks around, letting go of the woman’s hand to instead outstretch her arm, gently coaxing the woman to stand behind her.
Black Swan’ll be damned if she lets another Timekeeper get to the pretty stranger first. They may be on the same side in the infinite war on time, but Black Swan doesn’t like to share her spoils of it.
When there seems to be no danger, Black Swan continues to walk, taking the woman’s hand once again. She keeps her head on a swivel and feels a sense of relief once she sees her hotel down the street.
Black Swan knows that almost nobody can beat her in a fight, not with her lifetimes of experience and cunningness, but she also knows that she isn’t anybody’s target. Knowing how Timekeepers are trained, she’s aware that the time-traveler would be the one who’s attacked.
Thankfully, a fight doesn’t happen. Whatever Timekeeper had gotten a whiff of the time-traveler must’ve backed off after seeing Black Swan with her.
Black Swan urges the woman into her hotel room, which she had previously enchanted to be a void in time.
“We’re safe in here,” Black Swan says as she locks the door behind her.
“How do you know that?”
“This room doesn’t technically exist in any worldline.” Black Swan walks over to the windows and pulls the curtains closed. She turns on her heel and spots the woman lingering, almost awkwardly, by the entrance of the room. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are frowned. Black Swan takes it as distrust regarding the actual safety of the hotel room. “I made sure of it, dear. Come. Sit.”
She follows her sentence by sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the spot besides her. The woman walks over to sit down. Once they’re both settled, Black Swan hums.
“You said you don’t know your name,” she says before letting her gaze trail the woman up and down. “Most time-travelers don’t experience memory loss as a side-effect of jumping, but I’m sure it’s not unheard of.”
“Who are you?”
Black Swan’s lips twitch upwards. “That’s what I should be asking you.”
“And what do you mean time-traveling?” The woman’s frown deepens, confusion lining the wrinkles between her eyebrows. “I don’t remember anything . The only thing I remember is blinking and finding myself where you’d found me.”
Black Swan doesn’t respond for a moment. She stares into purple eyes that have become wide with a mix of frustration and anger. This woman, who has very obviously been traveling worldlines, apparently recalls none of it—and doesn’t even know her own name.
If this is true, Black Swan can’t say she’s run into a situation like this in all her years of existence.
“You would be dead by now if I hadn’t found you first.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” the woman replies evenly.
“How could you possibly know that?” Black Swan lets out a saccharine-sweet chuckle. “You don’t even know your name, gorgeous. How do you know that you can handle yourself in a fight?”
“Who are you?” the woman asks again, ignoring Black Swan’s question. “Why are you telling me I’m a time-traveler? How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
Black Swan arches an eyebrow. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Black Swan. I’m a Timekeeper.”
“A Timekeeper,” the woman repeats under her breath, eyebrows knitting together and gaze lowering to her lap as she tries to see if the title rings any bells within her mind. It doesn’t, and it only makes her frustration worse. She looks back up at Black Swan. “What is that?”
“I’m afraid telling you the more minute details of my job would be going against protocol,” Black Swan says. “You are the enemy, after all.”
“Enemy?” The woman lets out a mirthless laugh. She stands from the bed and takes one—two, steps backwards, staring at Black Swan. Her right hand goes to grab at the left side of her belt, only to come up empty. It’s a habitual movement that Black Swan picks up on immediately, wondering what kind of weapon the stranger had been trying to grab—wondering where the weapon had gone. “Did you lure me here to kill me?”
“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already,” Black Swan states nonchalantly. She leans back on her hands, tilting her head as she meets the stranger’s eyes. “We call your people Disruptors. You call yourselves Pathmakers. Semantics, really. The title we use to describe your side means little to nothing.”
“How do you know for sure that I’m a Disruptor—or a Pathmaker?”
“I’m one of thirty-five Timekeepers, sweetheart.” Black Swan smiles knowingly, stating the fact with a sense of pride in her tone. “You’re not one of us, which means you’re one of them.”
“Seems a little too black-and-white.” The woman crosses her arms over her chest.
“You’re the one who needs the history lesson,” Black Swan says. “I’m trying to teach you.”
“Fine. Teach me,” the woman replies shortly. If not for how cold her tone was, she’d seem like she was losing her temper. Black Swan’s amusem*nt grows, as does her intrigue, at the distrust in the time-traveler’s eyes. The stranger’s crossed-arms uncross and spread, gesturing vaguely as she continues to speak. “What do the Pathmakers call Timekeepers? If you call them one thing, and they call themselves something else, surely it’s the same vice versa?”
“No.” Black Swan shakes her head. She rises slowly and makes her way to stand in front of the woman. The two of them are of similar height, but Black Swan still tilts her chin down to stare at the time-traveler. The smile on her lips hasn’t dwindled. “We’re universally called Timekeepers because that is our purpose; to keep time on track. Your side has two names because only they believe that they aren’t disrupting the universe’s circadian rhythm. Pathmakers to themselves, Disruptors to everyone else.”
“Why are the Pathmakers doing what they’re doing?”
“You chose a title to use, I see.” Black Swan’s smile grows the same way a wolf’s lips would twitch to reveal sharp canines. “That’s the second time you’ve used ‘Pathmakers’.”
“For convenience’s sake.”
“Right.”
“ Why , Black Swan?”
“Besides being a major nuisance?” Black Swan asks rhetorically. “I don’t know. Some of them say it’s to build bridges between the universes. Others say it’s to take away control from the Timekeepers—something about the monopolization of time being unfair. The reason behind time-vandalism doesn’t matter, the fact that it’s done is what matters.”
“What did you do to the Disruptors who told you those reasons?”
Black Swan uses her index finger to lift the stranger’s chin. “Don’t get me wrong, dear. I’m telling you what I’ve heard from other Timekeepers . I’ve never held a conversation with a Disruptor before today.”
“How good of a Disruptor am I if I can’t even remember my name?” The woman steps back and smacks Black Swan’s hand away from her.
The audible slap against Black Swan’s skin shifts them both into a heavy silence and for a split-second, Black Swan’s amusem*nt flashes to irritation. Then, Black Swan takes a deep breath. She rolls her shoulders back, giving her a second to adjust her posture and recollect herself.
“I can try to sift through your memories,” Black Swan announces.
“Aren’t you supposed to be my enemy? Why should I trust you with my memories?”
“Don’t you want to know your own name?” Black Swan shoots back with a raised eyebrow, challenging her. “If you want to walk out of here, be my guest, but I can’t promise you that there isn’t another Timekeeper waiting to put a bullet in your head the second you leave this room.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“It’s not a selfless act,” Black Swan says truthfully. “I’m not offering to go through your memories just because you want to know your name.”
“Then what else are you looking for?”
“The reason you’re here, who sent you, why they sent you—the likes.”
She hesitates. “Will it hurt?”
Black Swan’s smile softens against her own will. “No, flower. It won’t feel like a thing.”
She sits back down on the bed and gestures for the woman to follow.
“Why should I trust you?”
“What other option do you have?” Black Swan responds without skipping a beat.
The woman clenches her jaw for a few moments before she steps forward and sits besides Black Swan. “Fine. Search my memories.”
Black Swan shifts her body so she’s facing the time-traveler and lifts both of her hands to the woman’s head. The stranger flinches back, but Black Swan’s quick to reassure her.
“ Relax . I need to be able to connect to your memories through touch,” Black Swan says gently, moving her hands towards the woman again. This time the woman leans in, although an apprehensive frown is stuck on her lips.
Black Swan presses both of her thumbs to either side of the woman’s temple before closing her eyes and focusing on digging through her memories.
At first, Black Swan frowns. There seems to be nothing for her to grasp onto. Usually, humans have their memories at the forefront of their minds—and Black Swan is immediately swamped with the task of shuffling through them—but the woman in front of her seems… empty .
However, the longer Black Swan spends within the stranger’s head, the clearer things become. Murky waters slowly transition into cleaner ones. And yet Black Swan still hasn’t been able to land a solid memory. She sifts through the webbing of the time-traveler’s mind, feeling oddly familiar with its patterns.
When she finally, finally , thinks her consciousness has found a platform to land on, her entire body erupts in excruciating pain and she’s flung into the time-traveler’s abyss-of-a-mind.
—
Black Swan gasps awake, fresh tears streaming down her face as her chest heaves up and down. She sits up and wipes away her tears with the backs of her hands, ignoring how even more tears slip out of her eyes faster than she can wipe them away. She panics, or she thinks she’s panicking, as she keeps wiping at the nonstop tears.
Black Swan had been laid down properly in bed, and she stares at the purple-haired woman sitting on the opposite end of it.
The stranger stands up and turns to Black Swan, walking to her bedside. “You’re awake. You passed out—”
“ Acheron .” Black Swan sniffles to clear her nose. Blinks away more tears that immediately reappear. Her voice is raspy, no sign of its usual charismatic drawl. “Your name is Acheron.”
The time-traveler, Acheron , inhales sharply. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Black Swan can’t control how shaky her voice is. She’s never felt this affected before, unable to find footing for her emotions. “If—If all the people screaming your name for mercy is anything to go by, then I’m sure.”
“Screaming my name for mercy—?”
“Your mind is unlike anything I’ve ever traveled through,” Black Swan whispers, still trying to recuperate from what she’d experienced.
Pain.
“Black Swan?”
Blood. Everywhere .
Caused by a sword unsheathed quicker than flashes of lightning, flickering red on its onyx-black blade.
“Swan. What did you see?”
Screeches and screams so painful they didn’t sound like they’d been produced by a human.
Maybe they hadn’t been.
Acheron did not seem like a human.
She was a monster, fueled by rage and an endless pit of hatred, killing all those who were in her path without any emotion on her beautiful face.
“Were my memories somehow lost?” Acheron asks.
Black Swan shakes her head, simultaneously trying to pull herself together and get rid of the horrors plaguing her mind. “There’s a… there’s a barrier. Your memories are in there— some of them —but they’re hidden behind a void spell, similar to the kind I put on this hotel room. I—I think someone is trying to keep them hidden from you.”
“You’re still crying.” Acheron blinks down at her, unsure what to do.
Black Swan reaches up with her right hand and touches her tear-stained cheeks, mystified as she pulls her hand away to stare at the wetness on her fingertips. “I don’t—I don’t think I can stop. I felt everything; everything that’s been done to you and everything that you’ve done to others. They were one and the same. It was… It was terrible.”
Black Swan’s body is trying to keep up with the grief her consciousness just went through, and it’s doing so with nonstop tears. Her heart is beating so fast she’s worried she might have a heart attack, and her breaths are coming in and out sharply. She’s panicking, but there’s an absence of actual panic in her mind to account for the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
Black Swan, who’s seen many memories, has always been able to separate her consciousness from her victims’. But Acheron’s mind pulled her in and placed her not only in Acheron’s shoes, but in the shoes of every person she’s killed. The guilty and the innocent. It’s almost like Acheron’s mind absorbed their memories—like a black hole.
She has lived as Acheron, as every version of Acheron. She has lived as the lives Acheron’s destroyed, as well as the lives she has helped. Black Swan had initially thought Acheron sucked in the memories of those she killed, but Acheron’s mind holds onto memories that include her—regardless of whether she’d played a cause in their death. She’s never seen anything quite like Acheron.
“Are you hurt?” Acheron asks carefully. She hesitates for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the mattress, close enough for Black Swan to feel her body heat through the blanket pooled in her lap. “It sounded like you were in a lot of pain before you passed out. You screamed and fell down, but I caught you. I moved you onto the bed so you’d be more comfortable—”
“I’m uninjured.” Black Swan is still staring at her fingertips. Her tears haven’t stopped. She lifts her gaze to Acheron’s. “Do you feel any different?”
“No,” Acheron says. “Am I supposed to?”
Black Swan wipes fruitlessly at her cheeks again and sniffles. “I wasn’t sure if getting through the void barrier helped you remember anything. I guess it didn’t.”
A brief silence. Then:
“My name is Acheron.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Is there anything else you remember about me?”
“Once I’m done with this awful catch-up sob session, I’ll be able to tell you.”
“Right.” Acheron averts her gaze and then reaches for the box of tissues on the bedside table. She awkwardly hands it over to Black Swan. “Here.”
Black Swan lets out a wet laugh as she grabs the tissues. “How chivalrous.”
Acheron sits back down on the bed and keeps her gaze towards the wall as Black Swan practically empties the tissue box with all the tears and snot she has to let out.
A few minutes go by in silence, save for Black Swan’s sniffling and shuffling of tissues.
Once Acheron sees the pile of tissues building up on the bed, she stands and grabs the trash can from the other side of the room. She places it by Black Swan’s bedside.
“It’s hard to believe you have such awful memories inside of you with how adorable you are,” Black Swan says as she tosses her used tissues into the bin. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a few moments. When she opens them and doesn’t see her vision blur with more tears, she sighs. “Your name is Acheron.”
“Okay.” Acheron nods, turning her body to face Black Swan. Black Swan’s eyes are as red as her nose is, and her face is devoid of the little color that’d been there before. Though they’ve only just met, Acheron has a feeling that Black Swan is not one to usually lose her composure.
It makes her trust the lavender-haired stranger a little more, having seen her go through those emotions.
“I was right about you being a Disruptor,” Black Swan says. At Acheron’s widening eyes and opening mouth, Black Swan lifts a hand to signal her not to talk. Even sitting with perfect posture, Black Swan seems slouched. Her human body is only capable of so much crying without getting exhausted. “But you were right about things seeming too black-and-white.”
Acheron frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” Black Swan knits her eyebrows together in slight frustration, trying to figure out how to properly word things. She’d just seen years and years—maybe more than thousands of years—worth of memories. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. “The Disruptors have always been expendable. Your leaders did not treat you as anything more than ammunition in a war, and it didn’t seem like any Disruptor minded. You were all well-behaved chess pieces who did what the higher-ups asked of you because you thought you were fighting for a good cause—a just cause. Then… you got sick of it.”
Black Swan opens her eyes in order to meet Acheron’s. “You went rogue, Acheron. They thought of you as disposable so you left, and then they came after you. You ran for a while, I don’t know how long exactly. You killed every Disruptor they sent your way, but—” Black Swan sucks in a sharp breath. “They captured you. You were tortured and used as a test subject for their experiments involving time-travel.”
“Tortured?” Acheron repeats.
“The experiments they were doing on you ended up helping you in the long-run. It’s how you were able to jump worldlines and get out. The extent and repercussions of the experiments were fuzzy. I don’t even think you quite know what they did to you.”
“But what about my memory loss?” Acheron asks.
“I don’t know,” Black Swan says. “It could’ve been a preventative measure on the Disruptor’s part. If they knew how to do it, they could’ve had the void barrier in your brain set to go off if you were to jump into a different timeline, but I don’t think they would have the foresight to plan it.”
“Is that the only possible option?”
“Unless you did it to yourself.” Black Swan tilts her head. “It could’ve been a last resort for self-preservation.”
“Why would I get rid of my own memories?”
“Human brains do so all the time when it comes to dealing with trauma—not with void spells , but it’s the same idea,” Black Swan says. “Perhaps you did it knowingly, or maybe it was a subconscious thing. Either way, you’re a runaway Disruptor with no recollection of being one, and I’m technically oathbound to kill every Disruptor I come across.”
“ Technically —?” Acheron scoffs. “Then you should’ve killed me the second you saw me.”
“I am aware,” Black Swan replies, though there isn’t the slightest hint of regret in her tone. She’s starting to seem more energized now, though her eyes are still bloodshot from the tears. “The reason I held off on killing you was that I knew there was something different about you, and I was right. As I usually am .”
“Then, what now?” Acheron asks, uncaring for Black Swan’s co*ckiness. “We fight?”
“No, darling,” Black Swan says with only the prettiest of smiles on her lips. “We team up.”
“You have to be kidding.” Acheron laughs mirthlessly. She stands from the bed and crosses her arms. “What could I possibly gain from working with Timekeepers? If what you’re telling me is true—”
“It is.”
“— then I used to be a Disruptor, and you should kill me where I stand .”
Black Swan stares up at Acheron from her spot on the bed, an amused smirk on her face. “The theatrics are endearing, really.”
“ Black Swan .”
“The Disruptors are after you because they’re afraid of you, petal.” Black Swan points her index finger towards Acheron, slowly turning her wrist and curling it, signaling Acheron to come closer. Surprisingly, Acheron follows, taking a step forward cautiously. “They made you into a superweapon, and then they lost you.”
Black Swan’s words are spoken with admiration, her finger trailing up Acheron’s front. Entranced, Acheron finds herself leaning downwards. Black Swan spreads her fingers out on Acheron’s collarbone, slipping underneath the time-traveler’s jacket.
Acheron’s hand comes up to grip Black Swan’s wrist, keeping her from moving anywhere else. “Why should I team up with you?”
“You could be the key to destroying the Disruptors once and for all.” Black Swan turns her body so her legs are off the side of the bed. Keeping her hand on Acheron’s collarbone, she stands up slowly, their bodies practically pressed together as she rises and Acheron stands completely still. She feels Acheron’s grip on her wrist tighten as she whispers her next words, eyes flicking between Acheron’s. “Join me and we can make sure that everybody who’s done you wrong gets what they deserve.”
Acheron’s voice doesn’t come out as soft as Black Swan’s. “Aren’t you just going to kill me if I say no?”
Black Swan’s smile grows as she lets out a thoughtful hum. “I should kill you, considering you are undoubtedly going to be causing more rifts in the universal timeline, but I think I can make an exception.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re cute,” Black Swan says. At Acheron’s resulting glare, Black Swan huffs out an amused breath through her nostrils and brings up her free hand to join her other one. With Acheron’s grip still on her, Black Swan starts fixing Acheron’s jacket collar. “I have a feeling you’re going to be killing a lot of Disruptors if I let you go. What’s the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
“But the other Timekeepers will still try to kill me, won’t they?” Acheron asks, grabbing Black Swan’s other wrist with the same hand, keeping her from moving.
“Naturally.” Black Swan hums, both of her wrists captured. “If the Disruptors fail to kill you, the Timekeepers will succeed.”
“Then what’s the point?” Acheron asks frustratedly. “You’re saying I’m going to die in the end, regardless of my choice.”
“As is the cycle of life.”
“Stop toying with me!” Acheron hisses, gripping Black Swan’s wrists tighter as she leans forward. This close to her face, Black Swan can see the spots of red that show up in Acheron’s irises as her anger flares, growing larger and larger before she blinks it away. She swears Acheron’s whole eye would’ve turned red if she hadn’t blinked.
It’s the same shade of red that the sword from her memories flashed. Interesting .
Black Swan doesn’t seem the least bit worried or frightened despite the position that she’s in. She sees Acheron as a puppy-dog, traumatized and only aggressive because she’s perceived herself to be backed into a corner. Luckily, Black Swan’s always been good at taming.
She tilts her head and stares at Acheron. “I’m not toying with you, darling. I’m telling you the truth.”
As the tense silence drags on, Acheron’s glare falters, and the hold she has on Black Swan’s wrist loosens as well. Black Swan takes the moment to lift her right hand, cupping Acheron’s cheek. Satisfaction floods her body when Acheron doesn’t flinch away from her touch. Her voice comes out soothing, even if her words aren’t.
“Would you rather I lie to you and tell you that you’ll walk out of here a free woman? Is that what you want?”
“No,” Acheron answers. Her hands fall down to her sides out of defeat. Black Swan’s left hand rests on the side of Acheron’s neck as her right continues to gently swipe her thumb across Acheron’s cheek. “Admittedly, I don’t fully grasp what’s happening. I mean, this is all very confusing when I have no idea who I am. I am forced to face the repercussions of my shadow.”
“Become a Timekeeper,” Black Swan whispers as her left hand trails upwards, fingers combing through the baby hairs at the back of Acheron’s neck. She feels the rogue Disruptor shiver beneath her touch and holds back the pleased giggle that wants to rise from her throat. “You’ll be doing the universe a favor, you know?”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Acheron’s voice finally dips in volume, lowering to a trembling whisper. It seems the unknown of it all has finally crushed her. “You could’ve told me any story just now. How do I know what you just told me was real?”
“I can take you to another Timekeeper and have them check your memories,” Black Swan suggests. “As horrible of an experience as it was, it’ll help you trust me, won’t it?”
“Yes,” Acheron says. She nods once.
“There’s one tiny catch.”
“What is it?”
“I need to bring you to the Voidspace. It’s where us Timekeepers call home, and it’s the easiest place to locate a Timekeeper.” Black Swan uses her pointer finger to trace a path down Acheron’s jawline. “Non-Timekeepers physically aren’t allowed, so I will be tethering our souls together to get you in.”
“What does that mean?” Acheron blinks in confusion, pupils dilating as Black Swan’s hand continues trailing down.
“It means if you try to kill me—” Black Swan presses her palm against the middle of Acheron’s chest, feeling the heartbeat thudding against her skin as she whispers, “ then you’d kill yourself, too .”
Acheron inhales sharply, staring into Black Swan’s multicolored eyes, fixated on how the orange fades to purple. Black Swan’s eyes are their own mini-universes, and those dark pupils are black holes that stare right back at Acheron. Her heart races beneath the touch of Black Swan’s hand. “You would trust me with your life?”
“No. I’m trusting you with your own,” Black Swan corrects. She smiles and raises an eyebrow. “What do you say, dear? Shall we travel to the Voidspace together?”
“I don’t have much of a choice here, do I?”
“You always have a choice,” Black Swan says. She draws circles on the material of Acheron’s shirt, her nail digging in slightly. “I won’t take you there until you give me a ‘yes’.”
“...” Acheron stays silent for a couple of seconds, feeling every drag of Black Swan’s nail on her skin like the searing hot tip of a knife. Then, Acheron exhales. “Yes. I’ll go with you to the Voidspace.
“Good girl.” Black Swan smiles. “Close your eyes, petal. You won’t feel a thing.”
Acheron blinks.
—
When Acheron’s eyes open again, she finds herself… floating. No, she’s standing, but there’s no ground beneath her. Except—she’s not standing? She can’t be— because she has no body .
“Oh. One moment, darling.”
Black Swan’s voice comes through loud and clear in Acheron’s formless head. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from every direction at once. Like it’s inside Acheron’s mind.
Suddenly, Acheron gets the feeling that she’s falling.
She stumbles down into a landing as her vision—or her lack of vision—flashes to white. This time, Acheron can feel her limbs as she does normally, and there is solid ground beneath her. The brightness in her vision dims and Black Swan’s face comes into her view, blurring and deblurring as her eyes take a moment to focus.
“Is that better?” Black Swan asks. “I forget that you aren’t used to being only a consciousness. Forgive me for being such an awful host.”
“We’re naked,” is what Acheron’s mind comes up with as a reply. She looks down at Black Swan’s body and then to her own. Their skin doesn’t look like regular skin. They almost seem to glow, despite the world around them being void of color at all. The scars and tattoos that are usually on Acheron’s skin are gone, leaving behind the flawless pseudo-skin. There are no details on them—they’re in human-shaped shells.
Black Swan lets out a sweet laugh, adoration brimming in its melody. “Yes. We are. Come, hold my hand and follow. I’ll take you to another Timekeeper who can read your memories.”
“This is the Voidspace?” Acheron asks as Black Swan’s fingers intertwine with her own. They start walking, but Acheron sees nothing except Black Swan’s nude figure in an expanse of black nothingness.
“It looks different once you become one of us,” Black Swan says. “It’s beautiful. I do hope you get to enjoy it one day. Who knows? Perhaps that day will come soon.”
Acheron bristles. “Don’t get too hasty, Timekeeper.”
“Oh, I do like it when you use my official title.” Black Swan flashes a flirty smile over her shoulder.
Acheron doesn’t satisfy her with a response, even if the traitorous heart inside of her skips a beat.
They walk for nearly a minute more. It seems as if Black Swan’s guiding her down a hallway of sorts. Then, Black Swan turns to the right and knocks on an invisible door.
“Spider? I’ve come to ask a favor.”
The Spider’s voice floods Acheron’s mind.
“You never ask for favors, Black Swan.”
“Even more reason for you to accept, isn’t it?” Black Swan’s tone comes out at ease, friendly—without any undertone of condescension or aggression. Whoever Spider is, Black Swan is comfortable with them. “Do get dolled up in your human form, we have a guest.”
“How dull,” the voice calls back.
Black Swan tugs Acheron forward a few steps, and then a third person joins them in the not-room that they’re standing in—materializing in front of them. Spider takes the form of a woman only slightly taller than she and Black Swan, hair as rich wine-red as her eyes, and a sly smile on her lips. Acheron’s gaze travels down for only a second before returning to those amused eyes.
“It’s nice that we’re all naked,” Acheron says. The flatness of her tone conveys otherwise.
“Where did you find this one, Swan?” Spider asks with an interested glint in her eyes. “Her energy is… unique .”
“I want you to sift through her memories,” Black Swan says instead of answering her question. She’s still holding onto Acheron’s hand. “She doesn’t trust that I’m telling her the truth about Timekeepers. If you can go through her memories and tell us what you see, she’ll consider joining us.”
“Smart little thing.” Spider’s eyes trail over to Black Swan. “You’ve tethered her to you? You must really want her.”
Acheron’s frown deepens, wondering what exactly Black Swan wants her for .
“There is a void spell trapping her memories beneath that you’ll have to unravel.” Black Swan seems to be used to leaving Spider’s questions unanswered, and Spider doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. Black Swan guides Acheron and Spider over to—a couch? A bed? Acheron doesn’t see it, but they’re able to sit down, and Acheron finds herself situated between the two women.
“A void spell ?” Spider repeats with a drawl. “What have you gotten mixed up in, dear Swan?”
“ Kafka ,” Black Swan says with eyes that narrow slightly. It’s only taken three unanswered questions to prod at her patience—but her narrowed eyes are joking more than anything else. “Her memories.”
“Right, right.” Kafka the Spider waves her hand nonchalantly. She places a hand on Acheron’s shoulder to make Acheron face her, turning her with a light push. Acheron finds herself staring into dead eyes as she feels the pressure of thumb pads on her temple. “Let’s see what’s inside you, hmm?”
—
Kafka doesn’t scream.
She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t breathe heavily.
No. Kafka does none of what Black Swan had done after taking a look inside Acheron’s mind.
Instead, when Kafka wakes up, she’s smiling. She’s still sitting up straight, hands on Acheron’s temple, as if the past two minutes had been nothing for her.
She locks gazes with Acheron immediately, eyes wide with excitement.
“Aren’t you something?” Kafka marvels.
“What’s her name, Kafka?” Black Swan asks.
“ Acheron ,” Kafka answers immediately, hands moving down from Acheron’s temples to cup both of her cheeks. Acheron swallows the urge to run. “Runaway Disruptor, Acheron. You’ve taken so many lives with your own hands. I’m surprised you haven’t shown up on our radar sooner. Tell me, did you enjoy it?”
Acheron flinches backwards, out of Kafka’s hands. The difference in Kafka and Black Swan’s reactions is alarming, and nauseatingly so. She stands from the invisible piece of furniture she’d been sitting on and stumbles back, eyes flicking between Kafka and Black Swan.
Did you enjoy it?
Black Swan’s gaze is cooling. When Acheron looks at her, she finds herself calming down slightly—but only slightly.
“See, flower?” Black Swan says. “I wasn’t lying.”
“Your weapon is missing,” Kafka states nonchalantly before Acheron can even think of replying to Black Swan. “You had a sword. A nice one at that. Where did it go?”
Acheron remembers having touched the side of her belt multiple times since Black Swan found her, like there should’ve been something there— a hilt of a sword, apparently . She frowns at the fact that Kafka mentioned it and wonders why Black Swan didn’t. If they don’t know where her sword is after looking through her memories, then there are even more memories of Acheron’s that are unaccounted for.
“Sword?” Acheron whispers under her breath.
“About this long, flashed red sometimes when you swung it,” Kafka says, gesturing vaguely with her hands. “It showed up after you ran away from the Disruptors the second time— after they ran the experiments on you.”
Acheron is lost. She shakes her head, not knowing what Kafka is talking about but feeling as if there’s something on the tip of her tongue. The loss of her weapon doesn’t hit her as much as she thinks it should.
“I can’t remember anything before Black Swan found me. I don’t know where my sword is,” Acheron replies. She looks around, but besides Black Swan and Kafka’s figures, she cannot see anything. It’s an endless realm of emptiness. Her eyes land on Black Swan. “You never mentioned a sword.”
Kafka, off to the side, chuckles. “ You didn’t?”
“I wasn’t sure I could fully trust Acheron,” Black Swan says, without any hint of guilt for withholding that tidbit of information. “A weapon of that caliber going missing and the previous wielder turning up without her memories seemed fishy. I wanted more information.”
“You went through my memories—“
“Not all of them.”
“— what more information could I have given you? ” Acheron looks back and forth between Kafka and Black Swan, growing visibly frustrated. “Is this place real? Have I been drugged?”
“She still doesn’t believe you.” Kafka barks out a laugh as she turns to Black Swan. “Is there even a drug that can do this?”
“She didn’t even know time-travel existed before I brought her to my hotel room,” Black Swan replies defensively. Acheron looks back towards Black Swan. “Acheron, the decision is yours now. I’ve told you about Disruptors and Timekeepers, I’ve gone through your memories, and I’ve even shown you the Voidspace.”
Acheron frowns. “It’s that easy to become a Timekeeper? I just say ‘yes’ and I’m in?”
“You’re a special circ*mstance,” Black Swan answers. “But, typically, yes—it is through another Timekeeper that new ones are recruited.”
“It’s not all that bad,” Kafka says with a hum. “You just have to kill a few people here and there that try to disrupt the natural flow of time. You have plenty of experience with killing, so I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”
Kafka’s words are light and she’s clearly joking around, but the last sentence makes Acheron stiffen.
Acheron stares down at her hands, rotating them so that they’re palm-up. Black Swan had already told her she was a murderer—that there had been people screaming her name for mercy, but hearing it from another source cements the discomfort in her stomach and twists it like a serrated dagger into her gut.
Everything feels unreal to Acheron.
This can’t be her truth. Surely if it was true, Acheron would be plagued by guilt and grief after having taken so many lives. She wouldn’t simply forget. She would dream—she would have nightmares.
She’d cry the way Black Swan did.
Or would she laugh like Kafka?
A chill runs down her spine.
“The people I killed,” Acheron starts, curling her hands into fists. “Did they deserve it?”
Black Swan stands, meanwhile Kafka crosses her legs and lets out a small chuckle.
“Did they deserve it?” Kafka repeats the question in amusem*nt. Every question that comes out of the Spider sounds like it’s rhetorical. “They were trying to kill you first. You simply reciprocated. I’d say it was deserved.”
“Collateral damage?” Acheron questions with a tremble in every syllable. Her eyes snap over to Black Swan, but Kafka is the one who answers again.
Kafka waves a hand dismissively. “Collateral damage.”
Black Swan lets out a small sigh at Kafka’s clear lack of empathy.
Acheron feels sick to her stomach.
Keeping her eyes trained on Black Swan, she gulps down the bile that threatens to rise from her throat. “I would like to leave the Voidspace.”
She holds her breath as Black Swan blinks at her. If their souls truly are tethered, then Black Swan wouldn’t dare kill her lest she kills herself—but Acheron still stiffens as she waits for Black Swan’s response.
“Very well,” Black Swan replies with a single nod. She seems neither relieved or disappointed as she turns her attention to Kafka. “Spider, thank you for indulging me.”
“Your indulgence is rare as is, dearest. Of course I’ll take them as they come.” Kafka hums appreciatively. “Acheron, I hope to see you soon.”
I don’t , Acheron thinks.
Black Swan steps closer to Acheron, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She holds her hand out for Acheron to take, and Acheron does so without hesitation, eager to get away from the Spider.
Black Swan walks them out of the non-existing-existing room and down the hallway again.
“Kafka frightened you,” Black Swan doesn’t even look at Acheron as she says this.
“She’s a psychopath,” Acheron says sharply, still following along Black Swan’s side as they walk.
Black Swan chuckles. “The Acheron in your memories would’ve gotten along just fine with her.”
That doesn’t make Acheron feel any better. She grits her teeth as Black Swan leads her back to wherever they’d been prior to finding Kafka.
Acheron, once again, finds herself sitting on a piece of furniture that she can’t see. Black Swan sits besides her, her knees pressed against Acheron’s.
“I’m sure you have more questions, and I know Kafka’s way of answering them is brutish at best—so I figured we should be alone.”
Acheron is momentarily stunned at the consideration. “I see.”
Black Swan smiles. “Well?”
Acheron opens her mouth, and then closes it after a moment. She stares down at her glowing pseudo-skin covered thighs while she gathers her thoughts. Black Swan waits patiently, not saying a word as Acheron frowns.
“Are you… are you able to show me one of your memories?”
Black Swan’s eyes widen. “One of my memories?”
“Yes.” Acheron nods. “I’ve thought about it, and—well. There’s no way I can prove that you and Kafka truly saw my memories, but if you can show me one of yours then it’ll be more believable.”
Black Swan’s surprise morphs into amusem*nt, not in condescension but in adoration. “Sweetheart, I’ve brought you to the Voidspace . Our skin is currently glowing and we exist in a zone where the physical and spiritual world collide. You still don’t believe me?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that you and Kafka are… not exactly human , but that doesn’t mean you two didn’t corroborate beforehand and agree to a story.” Acheron stands up. “If showing me a memory of yours is not possible, then I’d like to leave.”
“Hey, hold on.” Black Swan’s hand slips into Acheron’s, tugging her back down. Acheron ends up sitting much closer than she’d originally been, her thigh pressed against Black Swan’s. “It is possible, dear. I just have never felt the need or want to share my memories with others. Come closer. Give me your hands and place them on my head like Kafka and I have done to you.”
“What are you going to show me?” Acheron asks. She lifts her hands to lightly press her thumbs against Black Swan’s temples. She tries not to let those intense multicolored eyes deter her.
“A memory from my original life,” Black Swan says. She closes her eyes. Acheron’s sure she’s meant to close her eyes as well, but she can’t help but stare at Black Swan’s flawless face. “Before I was a Timekeeper, I was simply a woman.”
Eventually, Acheron lets her eyes close, picturing Black Swan’s gentle smile as a memory floods her mind—as vivid as her own reality.
She watches the memory unfold as if she were Black Swan. There’s warmth that spreads through Acheron’s body—Black Swan’s body—as she sways side-to-side. She’s dancing with somebody, another woman, but the woman’s face is blurry.
Black Swan’s voice comes from Acheron’s point-of-view. It sounds like gibberish, but Black Swan’s tone is full of love. Whatever she is saying, she’s emotional with it. Though she is usually soft spoken, this Black Swan speaks even softer.
Acheron’s heart skips a beat. She convinces herself it’s Black Swan’s heart that skips a beat.
Laughter fills the room that they’re in. A small apartment of sorts. Acheron notices how the smaller details are forgotten, various parts of the environment are blurred out in the memory’s rendition.
Acheron finds it odd that Black Swan doesn’t remember the face of the woman she’s dancing with. Clearly it was somebody Black Swan was fond of, if the intimate way Black Swan is being held and the adoring tone she’s speaking with is any indication.
When the woman holding Black Swan speaks, Acheron almost thinks that it’s her voice. The blurry woman’s voice is eerily similar to Acheron’s, a low, smooth tone that’s also speaking gibberish—words that don’t quite sound like a real language, as if Black Swan had forgotten exactly what conversation they’d been having in the memory.
The dancing slows to a stop as the woman leans down to kiss Black Swan. Just as Acheron swears she feels pressure on her lips, her vision cuts to black.
The memory ends there.
Acheron opens her eyes.
Black Swan’s eyes are still closed.
“Who was that?” Acheron asks even though she knows the answer.
“My past lover,” Black Swan answers quietly. She opens her eyes and blinks a couple times, chasing away the hot tears that start to brim. “It… It has been a while since I’ve thought of her. I apologize.”
“You don’t remember her face.” Acheron means for this to sound like a question, but it comes out as a sentence. Black Swan winces.
“No. I don’t,” she admits, averting her eyes to stare ahead. Guilt lies in every word she speaks. “I have been a Timekeeper for many millennia, Acheron. I have gone through countless people’s memories and have lost many of my own in the process—the result of carelessness and improper training on technique. It is… unfortunate , but it is just part of the great responsibility that I’ve agreed to.”
“Why did you agree to becoming a Timekeeper?” Acheron asks, trying to divert from the topic of Black Swan’s past lover, though it itches at her skin for reasons unknown.
“I wanted to do more with my life,” Black Swan answers, almost solemnly. “When I was found, I had nobody. All of those who I’d loved had died or moved on, and I was barely making enough to live as it was. I didn’t need much convincing. A Timekeeper at the time found me and mentioned that she noticed I liked to hold onto memories, telling me she knew the perfect job for me. Honestly, I thought it was a scam, but next thing I knew, I was in the Voidspace.”
Acheron stares at Black Swan, wondering why the Timekeeper seems so nonchalant about having nothing holding her back to the mortal realm.
“What’s the point?” Acheron questions weakly. “You serve the universe, but you cannot even remember the face of your lover.”
Black Swan, instead of responding in anger, smiles sadly. “I can remember the way she made me feel. I can remember how safe I felt in her arms.”
“What was her name?” Acheron asks.
Black Swan inhales sharply.
Acheron frowns. “You don’t remember.”
Black Swan shakes her head. “No.”
“What happened to her?”
“I don’t know.” Black Swan sighs. “The cause of her disappearance in my life is unknown to me. I only have bits and pieces of memories that include her left behind. Even her voice isn’t something I remember.”
And yet the woman in her memories sounded exactly like Acheron. Neither of them comment on it, although both of them think of it.
“I already don’t have any memories, Black Swan,” Acheron states firmly as she gets to her feet. “Becoming a Timekeeper just to lose more memories doesn’t seem beneficial to me.”
“I did not have a proper teacher in memory manipulation.” Black Swan lets out a breathy chuckle. She trails her eyes back over to Acheron, neck bending to stare up at her from her sitting position. “You’d have me. I wouldn’t let you lose any more memories.”
Acheron doesn’t respond. Her silence makes Black Swan’s confidence deflate by the smallest fraction.
“Do you believe me now?” Black Swan asks in a defeated tone. “Do you believe that you’re a rogue Disruptor and that I’m a Timekeeper?”
“Yes,” Acheron says, “and I’d like to leave the Voidspace.”
This time, there is a flicker of disappointment in Black Swan’s face, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. Black Swan stands to level with Acheron and nods once.
“You have no further questions?”
Acheron shifts, turning her body so she’s fully facing Black Swan, an uncomfortable swirl of emotions attacking her stomach. She wonders how many lovers of her own she’s forgotten—wonders, albeit childishly and selfishly, if Black Swan will forget her, too. A nasty prickling sensation of hurt digs into Acheron’s heart. Are memories truly so fickle?
“Did you really love her?” is the question that leaves Acheron’s lips, egged on by her own fear of what she’s already lost and what she’s on the verge of losing.
Black Swan’s eyes widen before she averts her gaze. “Yes, I loved her. I know you felt how much I loved her when you were viewing the memory. Perhaps not.”
Black Swan’s posture gets rigid, and her voice shifts to one of practiced monotony.
“Losing my memories of her has haunted me for far too long. She spent the most time consuming my thoughts, so she was the first to go. The intricacies of how memory manipulation works isn’t something I’m supposed to share with non-Timekeepers, but know that I solved the problem as soon as I realized it was happening and it has never happened again.”
She doesn’t even glance at Acheron for a second as she continues talking.
“You asked for a memory of my own and I opted to show you one of my most sacred ones without considering the way it might skew your decision in becoming a Timekeeper. I wanted to humanize Timekeepers in your eyes, but I was too rash. I wanted to let you see that I have emotions too. I realize now that I should’ve gone with something simpler.”
Acheron’s stomach twists with guilt. “Swan, I’m sorry—“
“Let me read your memories once again,” Black Swan says, ignoring Acheron’s apology. Her voice softens. “Once you leave the Voidspace, you may lose them. I’m not sure how your memory loss works, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Acheron waits for Black Swan to look at her again, but the Timekeeper seems adamant on keeping her gaze locked to the floor.
“You’re not going to come back with me?” Acheron asks, stepping forwards as Black Swan’s hands reach up for her temples.
“No. I want to talk with Kafka some more, but I’ll drop you off in the safety of my hotel room. You can wait for me there if you’d like.” Black Swan’s thumbs touch Acheron’s skin and her gaze finally lifts to meet Acheron’s. “I’m going to hold onto copies of the memories we’ve made together from your point-of-view before I send you out of the Voidspace. Is that alright?”
“Yes,” Acheron says. “That’s fine.”
Black Swan smiles at the immediate response, chest filling with warmth at Acheron’s trust in her. But the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Close your eyes, dear. When you open them, you’ll be back in the hotel.”
With a heavy heart, Acheron closes her eyes.
—
Opening her eyes, she finds herself in a small hotel-room. She’s alone, but she finds a pair of high heels on the ground that she knows aren’t hers—only because she has a pair of heels on herself currently. The owner of the other set of heels isn’t present.
Where could they have gone?
And why can’t she remember her name?
She walks into the bathroom and stares in the mirror.
Blank eyes stare back at her.
Why can’t she remember anything ?
—
“You’re really going to let her go?” Kafka asks. Black Swan had returned to Kafka’s room as soon as she sent Acheron back to the planet they’d met on—not without leaving a little gift for Acheron.
“ No. I’m going to return to the same timeline as her and figure out her story.”
“You’re invested, aren’t you, little Swan?”
“Of course I’m invested. You saw the damage she did with only one sword. We need to find that weapon, and we need to have her use it to end the Disruptors. Their reign-of-terror on the timeline has gone on long enough. If I hadn’t taken a detour on my established worldline, I would’ve never run into Acheron.”
“Jingliu would’ve found her.” Kafka’s consciousness circles around Black Swan’s. “She was there, too.”
Black Swan lets the information settle. Jingliu is one of the only other Timekeepers that Black Swan is amicable with. “I sensed someone else. I didn’t know it was her.”
“She mentioned something about being sick of being sent on a wild goose-chase before she left the Voidspace.”
“She may be right about that. I think the Disruptors have been trying to distract us and throw us off of Acheron’s trail so they’d have time to patch up the consequences. That woman has done too much carnage for us to not notice. Something’s not adding up.”
“Good thing you found her first. Jingliu would’ve slaughtered her.”
“Or she would’ve killed Jingliu.”
Kafka pauses. Her soul intermingles with Black Swan’s, swaying in disbelief.
“You truly think she’s capable of that?”
“Her sword, Kafka—” Black Swan urges. “It can’t be made from materials in the mortal-verse. You saw what it did. The Disruptors would not have been able to craft such a weapon—I think an Ascended One may have aided in its making.”
“An Ascended One? You—” Kafka stops herself as she lets out a short chuckle. It would feel condescending if Black Swan hadn’t known Kafka for several millennia. “She scares you, doesn’t she?”
“She fascinates me.”
“You didn’t tell her about the sword because you thought she would use it against us.”
“Yes,” Black Swan says. “But I don’t think that’s going to be the case. I believe she’ll be willing to fight alongside us.”
“Will you tell the others about her?” Kafka asks.
“No. They won’t bother listening to me. You know them.”
Kafka hums in understanding. The Timekeepers, although united under one title and general purpose, do not usually cooperate together. They are powerful individuals. A need for teamwork is a laughable thought to them.
“Will you tell them?” Black Swan asks.
“Perhaps only Jingliu. I’m sure she’ll keep chasing after your rogue Disruptor if I don’t. You know how she gets when it comes to loose-ends.”
“Okay,” Black Swan says. “If she can figure out how the Disruptors are covering Acheron’s trail, that would be useful.”
“Oh? Already giving out orders?” Kafka’s consciousness wraps around Black Swan’s, playful and teasing. “What about me? What can I do for you?”
“Figure out the origin of the void spell in Acheron’s brain. I’m sure you’ve memorized its patterns already. Study it and break it down.” Black Swan allows Kafka’s touch to persist, familiar with its wispy tendrils. It’s as equally comforting as it is distressing. “Either the Disruptors corrupted her and cursed her with it, or she’s doing it to herself.”
“Or whoever made that sword for her did it.”
“Whoever it is, I would like to find out. I’m unable to dispel the spell—”
“You tried to?” Kafka’s voice rises in pitch. She’s surprised and entertained at the same time.
“Only to see if I could. But I’m unsure how the human mind will react to all that trauma being unloaded at once. It’s safer to keep the void spell intact for now, but I would like to know who put it in place.”
“My, my, Black Swan.” Kafka chuckles. “You truly are fascinated by her.”
Black Swan pulls away. It’s foolish, but she feels embarrassed—as if she’s in her human form and she can feel her cheeks start to warm. Her naked soul has no such emotion, but Black Swan still feels it brimming hotly within her. “I have to go before another Timekeeper finds her. Will you tell Jingliu for me?”
“Yes. I can do that.”
“Thank you, Kafka.”
“Of course.” Kafka’s soul flashes dimly, a warning. “Best be careful, Swan. You’re treading a thin line between fascination and obsession, and we both know how sensitive you are.”
“I hardly think you are in any position to say that to me,” Black Swan snaps. “That phoenix of yours burns bright, doesn’t she?”
Kafka laughs loudly, taking the hit without any hurt. “ Go . Before somebody more dangerous than you finds your flower.”
—
Black Swan lets herself land in the hotel room—into the pair of heels she’d intentionally left behind—and finds Acheron standing in the bathroom. She’d been staring at herself in the mirror before Black Swan’s appearance, but she stiffens instantly when she notices Black Swan appear out of thin air. She turns her body as her right hand instantly reaches towards her bare left hip, a memorized action that’s stayed despite the memory loss.
But alas: there is no sword. Acheron’s hand flexes at the air it ends up grasping.
Acheron’s naked. Her clothes are in a messy pile on the tiled floor, her heels tossed to the side. Black Swan notes the purple marks, shaped like lightning strikes, running up her arm and across her shoulder—down her hips and across her thighs. There are scars on Acheron’s body that she hadn’t noticed before, laid bare before her. Although Black Swan’s never seen them, she knows how Acheron’s gotten almost every single scar. The tattoos, however, have no memory tied to them.
“You don’t remember anything, do you?” Black Swan asks carefully as she stares back at Acheron’s emotionless gaze. She’d hoped this wouldn’t have happened, but she’s glad she prepared for the possibility.
If she’s tethered to me, she’ll retain her memories.
“How do you know that?” Acheron asks, stepping backwards.
“There was another time when you’d lost your memory. I found you then, too.” Black Swan stays put at the bathroom’s entryway. “I won’t harm you, Acheron.”
“Acheron,” Acheron repeats. “Who is that?”
“That’s you, dear,” Black Swan says, which only deepens Acheron’s frown.
“Did you drug me?” Acheron questions. “Is that why I can’t remember anything?”
“No, I didn’t drug you.” Black Swan answers patiently. “My name is Black Swan. If you’d allow me, I know of a way to catch you up.”
“How?”
“Can I come closer?” Black Swan asks.
Acheron’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”
“It would be easier to show you.” Black Swan takes one small step further into the bathroom. When Acheron doesn’t immediately try to run or attack her, she takes another.
And then another.
In a few tense seconds, she stands directly in front of Acheron.
“Hold out your hands,” Black Swan says.
Tentatively, Acheron does so. Black Swan smiles comfortingly as she takes those hands in hers, noting how Acheron’s hands are larger and more calloused than her own.
“I’m going to give you your memories back,” Black Swan explains. She guides Acheron’s hands up to her face, placing those thumbs of hers on her own temple. Their eyes never waver from each other’s. “Is that okay with you?”
Acheron’s breaths come out shallow. There’s a vein on the left side of her neck that’s visibly protruding from her skin. She’s stuck between fight or flight—and is choosing to freeze instead, stunned in place by Black Swan’s hypnotizing eyes. Acheron’s eyes narrow as her brows furrow, still staring silently at Black Swan.
Black Swan wraps her fingers around Acheron’s wrists, hoping to pull Acheron from her thoughts.
“I need a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, flower.”
“Why do I trust you?” Acheron whispers confusedly.
“Are you asking why you should trust me?” Black Swan asks, running her thumbs against the inside of Acheron’s wrists. The skin there is soft and warm in a way that reminds the universe that Acheron is alive and breathing.
“ No .” Acheron shakes her head, quiet voice reverberating in the silence of the small bathroom. “I trust you. But I have no idea why.”
Black Swan’s smile softens and something inside of her tightens—though not uncomfortably. You can take the memories from the mind, but the heart remembers.
“Close your eyes,” she gently urges. “I’ll show you our shared memories.”
Acheron’s eyes flick between Black Swan’s for a moment more before they slowly close. Black Swan lets her eyes fall shut as well and immediately finds a connection to Acheron’s mind. She doesn’t latch onto it as soon as she senses it, not wanting to spook Acheron. Instead, she calmly wraps her own consciousness around it. Marshmallows instead of bullets.
With their naked souls in the Voidspace, it had been easier to share a single memory, but Black Swan is now dealing with two physical bodies instead of two manifestations of physical bodies.
Fortunately, there is no need to navigate a void spell this time. This process is much easier and much less traumatizing, though it takes Black Swan a moment to get through her own mind. She’s never had to share memories of her own before Acheron’s request, but she’s glad that she’d gotten some practice in.
She shows Acheron almost everything from the moment she’d seen Acheron in the club to the moment she’d guided Acheron out of the Voidspace, mixing in her own memories as well as giving Acheron all of hers back. When it comes to giving Acheron her own memories back, Acheron’s mind latches onto it like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly—engraving the memories with the soul of its rightful owner.
She doesn’t show Acheron her memories beneath the void spell, worried about the repercussions that might come from it. If the spell was put in place by Acheron herself, Black Swan thinks it’s best not to tamper with it.
Black Swan carefully pulls her consciousness back, her eyes opening slowly. She’s still holding onto Acheron’s wrists and her thumbs start to soothe Acheron’s skin again. The first thing she notices is Acheron’s hair. It’s white.
“Acheron?” she calls out in a concerned whisper.
Acheron’s eyes flutter open slowly.
When their eyes meet, Black Swan is only half-surprised to see that Acheron’s eyes have turned red.
Sensing something off, Acheron starts to blink rapidly. In an instant, the white from her hair and the red from her eyes fade away—replaced with their usual colors.
Black Swan thinks she’s stunning.
“Why are you here, Black Swan?” Acheron asks. Her voice comes out huskier than usual, stunned at the memories that have resurfaced and trying to process them. Besides having her head ache with the sudden onslaught of remembrance, she’d seen herself through the eyes of Black Swan, had felt Black Swan’s heart clench just before she’d sent Acheron out of the Voidspace because of her own callous words. “I declined the offer to become a Timekeeper.”
“I want to help you.”
“You want to weaponize me,” Acheron replies. Her hands drop from Black Swan’s head, but Black Swan keeps her fingers looped around Acheron’s wrists. “You want me to kill all of the Disruptors.”
“You’d have done so without my involvement, I’m sure.” Black Swan lets her gaze trail down Acheron’s scarred arms. “There is a hatred within you that runs so deep, I think you would sacrifice whole wordlines into black holes if it meant you would be able to get rid of every single Disruptor.”
“Why help me then? If you believe I’m going to kill the Disruptors off regardless if you play a hand, why bother?” Acheron pulls her hands from Black Swan’s, stepping back once more.
“To prevent you from sinking several timelines into the void,” Black Swan answers. “You are capable of destruction nobody should be. If you don’t join the Timekeepers, you must be closely monitored by one or you will be killed by one.”
Acheron considers this silently. She stares down at the bundle of clothes on the ground as she whispers out her next question. “Why didn’t you show me my memories? The ones under the void spell?”
“I’m afraid it’ll kill you,” Black Swan replies. Acheron’s eyes snap up to meet hers again. “I don’t know if the void spell was put in place to protect you or harm you. The years of traumatic events in your mind span many lifetimes, Acheron, and you are still in a human body. Unleashing the flood gates may overwhelm you and send you into a shock not even I can pull you out of. I tried to undo the webbing, but I couldn’t. Whoever cast that spell put a lock on it, and if it was for good reason, I want to keep it there. I’ve asked Kafka to look into it, however there’s no guarantee she’ll be able to trace the roots of it.”
“There is a possibility I can recover my memories, then?”
“Yes.” Black Swan hums. “Kafka excels in memory manipulation. She’s the best bet we have at understanding the spell. If we can understand it, perhaps we can find a way to safely undo it. If need be, I can slip you bits and pieces of your past, but I don’t want to accidentally undo the spell with a chain reaction of recognition.”
Acheron nods understandingly. Her head is still hurting from the onslaught of memories, but she feels everything start to settle just the slightest bit.
“What happens now?” Acheron asks. “I continue to be on the run while Disruptors and Timekeepers come after me?”
“The Timekeepers will leave you alone if I’m by your side,” Black Swan says—though she isn’t entirely sure about that. Jingliu knows better than to intervene with Black Swan’s plans, but the other Timekeepers aren’t as respectful of her space. This would’ve been easier if Acheron accepted becoming a Timekeeper, but alas. “The Disruptors—well, we’ll deal with them as they come. For now, I want to try and find your weapon.”
Acheron looks down at herself. “Should I put clothes on?”
“If you’d like,” Black Swan teases, eyes glancing down for a split-second. “Why are you naked?”
“I thought there might be a hint to who I was somewhere on my body.” Acheron bends down to start pulling on pieces of clothing. Her voice lowers, almost shamefully. “But the stories of my scars and tattoos elude me.”
“The scars I know about,” Black Swan says, not shying away from looking at Acheron’s body this time. As Acheron slips on a bra, Black Swan watches her muscled stomach ripple with the movement. “The markings and the tattoos, I’m not sure of. Like your sword, there are memories missing—memories that aren’t locked underneath the void spell with the rest of them. Perhaps Kafka can help locate those.”
Acheron tenses at the mention of Kafka.
“The Spider is harmless,” Black Swan assures. She presses her lips into a line in contemplation and hums. “Well—at least to us she is.”
“Comforting,” Acheron deadpans. “Speaking of the sword, how do we find it?”
Acheron slips her shirt on but leaves the jacket on the ground as she steps into her heels. She walks past Black Swan to exit the bathroom, heading towards the bed and sitting on the edge of it. Black Swan follows.
“We know when it was last used.” Black Swan walks so she’s in front of Acheron, watching those intense eyes follow her every step. “Nearly three thousand years ago from this current timeline, you returned to the planet you’d been held captive on. You cleaved time and space with that sword, destroying not only the Disruptor’s base but everything around it. After you slashed that timeline, the memory cuts off abruptly. That was the last we’ve seen of your special sword. Any memory afterwards doesn’t have it. I’m inclined to believe that the sword is still there—or that it was destroyed after its usage.”
“So we travel to that planet and find out.” Acheron stands.
“ Patience .” Black Swan presses a hand on Acheron’s shoulder. “The issue with this is that the planet may not exist anymore, and if it does, then it is no longer inhabitable. You would not be able to safely traverse it in a human-form.”
Acheron raises an eyebrow. “I caused that?”
“More likely than not.” Black Swan’s fingers trail up to cup Acheron’s nape. “However, I have an inkling that you’re not entirely human. Physically, you look like one, but there has to be something more here. There’s no way you could’ve caused all that destruction as a human and not kill yourself as well.”
“You did think I was a monster,” Acheron says, no hint of offense taken as she reaches up to grab hold of Black Swan’s wrist. “After you saw my memories, you mentioned that I was a monster because of the things I’ve done.”
“Morality has no place in the upkeep of time.” Black Swan’s nails dig lightly into Acheron’s neck. “Besides, I also called you ‘beautiful’.”
“I’m sure beauty has no place in the upkeep of time, either,” Acheron replies, her breath catching slightly in her throat.
“Mmm, you’d be surprised.” Black Swan lets her hands slide down Acheron’s chest before she takes another miniscule step forward. “Beauty has caused destruction of worlds, petal. You’re an example of that.”
“Is there a reason you’re buttering me up?” Acheron asks.
“Is it working?” Black Swan smiles.
Acheron narrows her eyes, though she tries to suppress the warm, tingling sensation that spreads down from her ears to her neck. “Will I stay here while you find out what happened to the sword?”
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone, but I think that would be the safest option.” Black Swan eases up on the flirting, but she keeps her palm pressed against the base of Acheron’s neck. “Besides Kafka, exactly one Timekeeper knows of your existence. Her name is Jingliu.”
“Was she the one stalking us?”
Black Swan hums. “Indeed, she was. You shouldn’t have to worry about any other Timekeeper coming after you so long as you stay in the hotel room—and Jingliu won’t harm you if Kafka’s done what I told her to and explained the situation.”
Acheron tightens her hold on Black Swan’s wrist in mild disgruntledness. “All I am is a sitting duck. Are you sure there’s no way I can come with you?”
“Eager, aren’t you?” Black Swan lets out a light chuckle. She presses her left hand against Acheron’s hip, her right hand reaching up to clasp the side of her neck. She finds that Acheron’s body heat is addicting—even as it sears into her own wrist. “I would rather not accidentally kill you by bringing you into a worldline that doesn’t exist. I could tether our souls again, but with the unknown state of that world, I don’t want to risk losing you in its glitches.”
“Are you usually this protective over your toys?” Acheron glances down at their pressed chests. She wonders why even the past version of herself let Black Swan touch her as she currently does. It should feel like an invasion of her personal space, but Acheron finds no discomfort in it. Quite the opposite, really.
Black Swan quirks an eyebrow. “You are hardly a toy , Acheron. What exactly you are remains unanswered—but do not belittle yourself. Whether you are mine or not—well, finders keepers .”
For the first time ever, Black Swan hears Acheron laugh with her own ears. It is a low sound, barely escaping her mouth, but Black Swan feels the vibrations of it through their connected bodies. It is a jarring noise, one that makes a chill run down Black Swan’s spine as she is briefly reminded of the lifeless Acheron in her voided memories.
“You are nothing short of a celestial-being,” Acheron says, disbelief mixed in with her amusem*nt. “If a planet-incarnate doesn’t know what I am, who will?”
“There is more to the universe than the physical,” Black Swan explains with the hint of an edge to her voice. She leans away from Acheron. “The Disruptors have their leaders and the Timekeepers have Ascended Ones.”
“Ascended Ones,” Acheron repeats. “Gods?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Black Swan says with a subtle shrug. “They are the closest thing to a god that I have seen, and I think they might’ve had something to do with your… abilities .”
“Why?”
“It would explain the power of your sword.” Black Swan takes a step back and lets her hands detach from Acheron’s body. Acheron’s fingers loosen around her wrist until they disconnect completely. “If an Ascended One helped you, then we may be in more of a situation than initially thought.”
“Why? Aren’t they your bosses?” Acheron questions, feeling oddly cold without Black Swan’s touch. “Shouldn’t you know—”
“I am not an omniscient-being and neither are they.” Black Swan cuts her off. “While the Timekeepers were originally created by the Ascended Ones, we do not have contact with them. They choose when they want to communicate with us. In the meantime, the Timekeepers are expected to do as they’re intended. Those who don’t are removed. That is the extent of a Timekeeper’s relationship with an Ascended One.”
There is a crease to Black Swan’s forehead as she explains this to Acheron.
“If an Ascended One is involved with you, they have not told us,” Black Swan says. “There could be a multitude of reasons for their silence. I’m hoping it’s nothing malicious, but they are unpredictable.”
“Sounds like you’re on the verge of mutiny,” Acheron says. She’s teasing, even if her tone is as emotionless as it usually is.
“It’s a simple fact,” Black Swan replies. She turns away. “Stay here. I will find out what happened to your sword.”
“How long is it going to take?” Acheron trails her eyes down Black Swan’s figure. She notes the small mole on Black Swan’s back that she hadn’t seen in the Voidspace, exposed by the dip of her black dress.
“It could be mere seconds or it could be a few hours.” Black Swan shrugs, looking over her shoulder to smile at Acheron. “Get some rest. You are in a human body, after all. I’ll be back—”
“ Wait ,” Acheron calls out.
Black Swan raises her eyebrows expectantly, slowly turning her body to face Acheron.
“I… I apologize for the way I acted in our last conversation—the one in the Voidspace,” Acheron says. A lump forms in her throat and she swallows it. “I shouldn’t have doubted your feelings the way I did. I had no right to do so, and I’m sorry.”
Black Swan’s lips part in surprise as the two of them stare at each other for a few beats of silence. Then, Black Swan lets out a light giggle.
“Apology accepted, petal. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I know it’s been a lot to take in. Now, get some sleep, okay?”
In a blink, Acheron finds herself alone in the hotel room.
She looks around as a deep sigh leaves her. Acheron feels less lost than she had felt prior to Black Swan’s appearance, but now she feels fragmented—made up of previous versions of herself as well as her current self. She has no idea who she really is, and is worried about the person she was .
Eventually, Acheron walks over to the bed and lifts its blankets. She slides underneath the covers and closes her eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been hovering over her head finally take the reins. She succumbs and falls asleep.
—
Acheron is startled awake by something falling onto her, followed by a loud thud of something else falling onto the floor. She jumps into a sitting position, surprised when she finds the weight on top of her to be a body— Black Swan’s body. And she’s totally unconscious.
Acheron’s heart stops.
“ Swan —” Acheron calls out as she positions the woman more comfortably into her arms. Her eyes snap over to the ground where she spots a sword longer than her torso. It’s sheathed in a white and purple encasing, but there is a sliver of black blade that peeks out by the hilt. She looks back down at Black Swan’s pale face, bringing a hand up to lightly slap at her cheeks. “Black Swan, are you alright? Wake up—”
She panics once she realizes the Timekeeper isn’t breathing. Her blood runs cold as her panic increases tenfold. She lifts Black Swan’s body higher into her lap, placing her head onto her shoulder and bringing a finger underneath her nose to check for any faint breaths coming out.
Nothing .
“Swan?” Acheron calls out to the limp body, shaking it with her right arm as her left cups her cheek. Her eyes become wider when there’s no response. “ Swan ?”
“I’m here, petal.”
Acheron’s head snaps up, looking around the hotel room as the voice echoes in her brain. Relief floods her— sort of . It’s still disconcerting to have Black Swan’s lifeless body in her arms, but she’s glad that Black Swan isn’t actually dead. “Where are you?”
“I’m here.”
“That’s not helpful,” Acheron snaps. She looks back over to the woman whose head is resting on her shoulder. “Why aren’t you in your body?”
“I needed to use it in order to grab the sword, but it’s been overexerted and I had to resort back to my consciousness. I didn’t have time to dematerialize it before jumping back into this worldline. Feel free to drop it.”
Acheron grits her teeth and holds the body closer, wrapping her arm around Black Swan’s waist. Unnerved by the lack of heat that permeates from it, Acheron feels a wave of protectiveness wash over her. “This is your body we’re talking about—I’m not going to just drop it. When will you return to her?”
“I could return right now, but I might be even more emotional than I was when I first looked through your memories. Your sword contains the rest of your memories, Acheron, and they aren’t pretty.”
“Return to your body, Swan.” Acheron presses the cold body against her own. She longs for Black Swan’s warmth—missing the heated touch of Black Swan’s hands against her skin.
“I may be inconsolable,” Black Swan warns gently. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make any sense—”
“It’s fine.” Acheron continues to stare at Black Swan’s closed eyes, counting her soft lashes. “I’ll be here.”
Black Swan is silent for a moment.
“Alright.”
In the next second, the body in Acheron’s arms comes alive.
At once, Black Swan’s eyes snap open and she inhales sharply. Her breaths come in and out without a rhythm. Their eyes meet, and Acheron, although she’d expected it, is still taken aback to see the absolute heartbreak in Black Swan’s starry eyes.
A surprised sob wracks Black Swan’s body. She curls into herself, seeming so impossibly small in Acheron’s lap. “ I’m so sorry—”
“Swan,” Acheron says, cupping Black Swan’s cheek to get her to look at her again and wiping the tears that start to flow. Black Swan shuts her eyes tightly and shakes her head vigorously.
“ Sorry! I’m sorry—! ” Black Swan sobs.
“I’m here,” Acheron attempts to comfort.
Hands grip at Acheron’s shirt, latching onto any source of anchor. Black Swan’s entire figure trembles as incoherent mumbles leave her lips—mostly apologies to Acheron, or perhaps she’s speaking as Acheron.
Acheron, confused as to why Black Swan keeps saying sorry, can only do so much. She lets Black Swan climb further into her lap, lets her bury her face into her shoulder and dig her nails into Acheron’s back.
Acheron wraps both arms around Black Swan’s slim frame, running one hand up and down the skin exposed by Black Swan’s dress as the other one presses firmly against her waist.
Black Swan’s body full-on shakes against Acheron’s. Acheron tries to hold her steady, but Black Swan cries and cries.
Acheron holds onto her tighter.
Though Acheron had craved Black Swan’s warmth, now Black Swan’s body runs too hot . She’s heating up, sweat perspiring on her skin and yet she still presses closer to Acheron. She cries into the space just beneath Acheron’s ear, wipes her tears into Acheron’s shirt.
The last time Acheron had seen Black Swan cry, it was more of unwanted tears that fell from the Timekeeper’s eyes. She hadn’t really been crying. But this time, Black Swan is genuinely sobbing. Acheron blinks away tears of her own, surprised at the sting in her eyes and the tightening of her chest as Black Swan’s whimpers strike a chord deep within her heart that plucks and plucks away at her own feelings.
They stay pressed together, Black Swan in Acheron’s hold so intimately that it’s difficult to distinguish where Black Swan’s body ends and where Acheron’s begins, for several more minutes.
Only when Black Swan’s sobs have softened to sniffles and shaky gasps does Acheron speak up again.
“You’re okay,” Acheron assures over Black Swan’s sniffles.
“ Acheron ,” Black Swan says through a trembling breath. Her nose brushes against Acheron’s jaw, nudging the skin there before she leans back. With her hands pressed on Acheron’s shoulders, Black Swan trembles in her lap.
Acheron places her hands on Black Swan’s lower back. “What is it, Swan? What is so horrible about my past that you’ve reacted like this?”
“ You’re on the quest for total annihilation .” Black Swan’s expression crumples, but she’s no longer sobbing uncontrollably. She speaks with a tremble in every syllable, sadness and anger mixed into each word. It sounds like she’s ranting to herself rather than actually talking to Acheron. “You have no idea what you’re asking of yourself. You’re blinded by your grief, by your personal vendetta. What were you thinking ? Accepting that Ascended One’s request? Gods, Acheron . You’re going to end up killing yourself. You know—I think that’s what you wanted.”
Black Swan’s hands reach up, cradling Acheron’s jawline as she leans forward. She presses her forehead gently against Acheron’s and closes her eyes. Her shaky exhales ghost over Acheron’s lips.
“The sword comes from an Ascended One, then?” Acheron asks. It’s the only thing she can think of saying, still processing all of what Black Swan had said.
Total annihilation. Blinded by grief .
“Yes. And they’ve got you doing their dirty work,” Black Swan whispers, eyes still shut. “If you touch that sword, you will remember everything—I believe it will undo the webbing of your void spell, granting you access to the memories you still have in your mind. It holds the rest of your memories hostage. Who you are is engraved into the makings of that weapon, because it was made from pieces of you.”
“That sword… holds the rest of my memories?” Acheron frowns.
Black Swan’s eyes flutter open and she leans back slightly, enough to stare into Acheron’s eyes without going cross-eyed because of their proximity. There is so much despair in Black Swan’s gaze that it makes Acheron stiffen beneath her. A thumb runs over Acheron’s cheek.
“You’ve gone from being the Disruptors’ experimental weapon to being an Ascended One’s experimental weapon.”
The statement makes Acheron’s stomach drop. She tilts her neck back, looking up at the woman in her lap.
“Is that all I am? A weapon ?” Acheron’s eyes search Black Swan’s desperately, painfully aware that she’s speaking to yet another being that wants her to fight for them. “Is destruction the only thing I am capable of?”
“No existence is meant for only one purpose,” Black Swan answers softly.
“Maybe mine is,” Acheron states calmly despite her own internal turmoil. “Maybe all I am meant to do is hurt.”
Black Swan takes hold of Acheron’s jaw firmly, making the rogue Disruptor’s eyes widen momentarily. Black Swan’s eyes flick between Acheron’s as she slowly shakes her head.
“You grew up picking flowers in the fields with the village kids—and you would hand them out to the sick ones who couldn’t come with you,” Black Swan whispers. “You had loving parents who doted on you as their only daughter, who raised you in a household full of laughter and rooms filled with sunshine. They taught you how to ride a bike, and then you taught the village kids how to do so when you got older. You’d walk the younger ones home from school because you knew they got scared having to cross the bridge themselves. Acheron, as heavy as the grief of your past weighs on you, not all of your memories are terrible.”
Acheron shivers beneath Black Swan. Her eyes glance down towards Black Swan’s tear-stained cheeks, guilt settling like a brick in her stomach. Her memories hurt Black Swan— she hurt Black Swan. “The memories of me picking flowers and being a child mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. How many lives have I destroyed?”
“You’re wrong,” Black Swan says firmly, ignoring Acheron’s question. She settles further into Acheron’s lap, pressing her palm against Acheron’s jawline. “Although the lives that felt your wrath outnumber the ones that felt your kindness, you are capable of love. Destruction is not your only route.”
“But if I touch that sword,” Acheron whispers, voice catching in her throat, “it will be.”
Black Swan’s chest rises and falls with the breaths she takes. She doesn’t deny Acheron’s statement.
If Acheron touches that sword, she may become the Acheron who signed her life away to the Ascended One; the one with so much hatred and rage within her that there was no room for any other emotion. There’s no telling whether or not Acheron will remember Black Swan after regaining her old memories—which means there’s no telling whether or not Acheron will immediately swing that weapon at Black Swan.
At Black Swan’s silence, Acheron gives a weak shake of her head. “If harm is all I’m good for, then perhaps you really should have killed me when we first met.”
“You hold me now as if I am made of glass,” Black Swan states, unsettled by Acheron’s suggestion. “If harm is all you’re good for, I would have long since shattered beneath your hands.”
“I hold you like this because my memories are what caused your cries in the first place,” Acheron replies. “Pain and suffering follow close to me, Black Swan. Aren’t my memories proof enough?”
“Half of those tears were my own,” Black Swan whispers. She leans down and lets the tips of their noses brush. She speaks quietly, letting her voice chip away at the bubbling self-hatred and fear that’s so deeply settled in Acheron’s bones. “Your rage seems endless, but there’s a sadness beneath it. You lost your loved ones at a young age and instead of processing the loss, you sprung into action. You hardened yourself and joined the Disruptors because you were told a lie about the Timekeeper being the ones who destroyed your home. Time after time, your naivety and greed for revenge has led you straight into the hands of manipulators, but your innate existence is one of kindness.”
Black Swan presses a kiss to the corner of Acheron’s mouth. Acheron’s lips part in surprise at the gesture, watching silently as Black Swan leans back and continues talking.
“I cried—not because of you, but alongside you.” Black Swan’s eyes look like they’re sparkling with the tears that fill them. Acheron holds her breath. “You are capable of softness, flower.”
“How do you know for sure?” Acheron asks. Her own vision blurs with tears that she rapidly blinks away. Acheron pulls her hands from Black Swan’s body and gestures vaguely to her own. “I am a shell of a person without my memories. This isn’t who I truly am—it can’t be who I truly am.”
“I think it’s the other way around.” Black Swan presses forward and loosely links her hands behind Acheron’s neck. She thinks of the Acheron who had awkwardly handed her a tissue box when Black Swan had first seen her memories and the Acheron who kept stiffly noting their nudity in the Voidspace. Black Swan feels her heart swell. “Who you are now is the person you are beneath your anger and unresolved grief. This is your true self.”
For a few moments, they stare at each other in silence. The distance between them is practically non-existent.
Then:
“ Show me .” Acheron’s hands find purchase on Black Swan’s hips. The heat of her palms sends Black Swan’s mind reeling.
“Show you?” Black Swan repeats, letting a small gasp when Acheron tugs . Her thighs, which are straddling Acheron’s body, tighten involuntarily as she’s pressed further down onto the rogue Disruptor.
“Show me the softness that you believe I am capable of,” Acheron whispers hurriedly, leaning her head back. A hot hand runs up Black Swan’s side, palming over her ribs. “ Please. ”
There is a desperation in Acheron that Black Swan finds herself easily submitting to.
When Black Swan kisses Acheron for the second time, it’s directly on her lips. Acheron’s eyes fall close as she returns the kiss, albeit hesitantly—not because she doesn’t want Black Swan, but because she is so unsure about everything .
Black Swan leans away only so she can lick her lips, moistening them some more before leaning back in and capturing Acheron’s mouth again. Acheron lets out a hum as she pulls Black Swan close, easily picking up the rhythm of Black Swan’s push-and-pull kisses.
Black Swan lets memories slip through their connected tongues and pressed bodies—the warmth of the bakery Acheron used to frequent with her parents, the giddiness of Acheron’s first crush, the sense of pride she’d felt when she landed her first job—she shares them with the trembling woman beneath her.
Black Swan shares her own memories of Acheron; shares the initial surprise she’d felt when she saw how stunning Acheron was in the club, how endearing she’d found Acheron’s offer of tissues, and how protective she’d felt over her in front of Kafka.
Tears slip from Acheron’s eyes as they kiss. Upon feeling the moisture, Black Swan wipes them away with the pad of her thumbs and leans back.
“Do you need more?” Black Swan whispers, her chest heaving against Acheron’s own. Acheron’s fondest memories are hidden beneath mountain-sized piles of traumatic ones, but Black Swan will go digging for every single one if that’s what it will take for Acheron to believe she is more than the catastrophes she’s been brainwashed to commit.
Briefly, Black Swan finds herself surprised at the lengths she’s willing to go for the woman beneath her. She’d been telling Kafka and herself that she wanted Acheron as a means to ending the Disruptors, but the touch of Acheron’s lips on her own makes it obvious that that’s not all Black Swan wants.
“Acheron?” Black Swan calls quietly when Acheron doesn’t respond. “Do you need more?”
“ Yes ,” Acheron answers before surging up and capturing Black Swan’s lips in another kiss—this one more heated than their previous ones.
She hadn’t been asking for more memories. She’d been asking for more Black Swan.
Black Swan reciprocates the want, a low moan escaping through her lips as Acheron starts to pepper kisses down her throat.
Acheron’s hands run up Black Swan’s bare thigh, slipping beneath the dress. Black Swan gasps and shudders, finding herself losing control of the situation. “ Acheron —”
“Can I?” Acheron looks up from her spot by Black Swan’s collarbone, hands freezing. There is hesitation in her eyes. “I—I’ll be soft.”
Black Swan’s pupils dilate as she presses a gentle kiss to Acheron’s lips, pulling away just barely as she speaks, her lips brushing against Acheron’s with each word, “I know you will, my sweet flower. Go on.”
Black Swan reaches down to guide Acheron’s hand further up her inner-thigh and towards her center.
And soft she is. Black Swan quickly turns into puddy in Acheron’s lap, completely rendered useless as Acheron touches her like she’s known all the sensitivities of Black Swan’s body for eons. Gasps and whines leave Black Swan’s lips; beautiful noises that Acheron makes sure keeps coming.
She feels Black Swan all around her, as if they were in the Voidspace and she could feel Black Swan’s soul surrounding her. But no, they’re both in physical human forms. Black Swan is wrapped around her as much as Acheron is wrapped around her .
Black Swan’s hips buck up and then grind down. “Acheron—”
“More?”
Acheron’s fingers ghost across her skin and Black Swan feels like she’s been lit aflame—burning for more.
She doesn’t think she’ll ever be satisfied.
“Yes, more,” Black Swan moans.
Acheron proves her wrong.
-
The next time Black Swan cries out Acheron’s name, it’s done so with pleasure and nails that drag down Acheron’s tattooed back.
—
Black Swan runs the tip of her nail down Acheron’s bare chest, tracing the paths of scars and tattoos across Acheron’s torso. The sun has been set for hours, but neither woman makes a move to get up, wanting to bask in the comfort of each other’s warmth before dealing with anything involving Timekeepers and Disruptors.
Black Swan lays her head on Acheron’s left shoulder, her left hand running up and down Acheron’s scarred skin. Acheron subtly leans her cheek against Black Swan’s head, eyes focused on the ceiling.
“How many of them are from the Ascended One?” Acheron asks into the night’s silence. Now that Black Swan’s not crying—out of sorrow or out of pleasure—she figures she should get a better picture of what exactly the sword’s memories hold.
“Just the tattoos,” Black Swan answers softly. She feathers her fingers down Acheron’s arm to trace the lightning markings. “You’ve been imbued with the Ascended One’s affinity for electricity. They help you wield the sword without dying, and they also heal you when you’re close to dying.”
“Who is the Ascended One that gave me the sword?” Acheron leans her head up as Black Swan does, staring into eyes that seem to glow in the darkness. “Do they have a name?”
“Ascended Ones forsake their individual identities after ascension in order to keep the balance of the universe,” Black Swan says. “That’s the idea, at least.”
“They don’t always want to keep the balance, do they?” Acheron lays her head back down and closes her eyes. She lets out a low groan.
Black Swan doesn’t respond. She presses a kiss to Acheron’s shoulder before repositioning herself so she’s propped up on her right elbow. She presses her left hand against Acheron’s collarbone lightly, making Acheron hum at the pressure.
“You wanted that to be the end of it.”
“What?” Acheron peeks her eyes open again.
“The destruction of that planet—the planet the Disruptors kept you on to experiment,” Black Swan explains. Her hand trails up to weakly clasp Acheron’s nape as Acheron looks up at her. “You let go of the sword after swinging, flinging it into the bleeding sky as you cried. I wish I had known what you were truly thinking, but I couldn’t get a true grasp on your memories through the sword like I could through your own brain. I felt enough hatred and despair to understand that you were exhausted, but I wasn’t able to know what you were thinking. It felt like a goodbye.”
Acheron furrows her eyebrows as she stares at Black Swan, whose face is so close to hers that she can still see her in the darkness.
“I sent myself on a suicide mission?” Acheron asks. “What about the Ascended One?”
“I don’t think you cared all that much about their request. You seemed very indifferent to their first appearance until they gave you the sword. You saw a chance to obtain enough power to destroy the worst part of your past and you took it,” Black Swan says. She leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Acheron’s lips. Acheron turns her head and kisses her directly. Black Swan smiles softly at the action, lips still pressed against Acheron’s.
Feeling the curve of Black Swan’s smile against her own, Acheron deepens the kiss. She’s finally gotten a taste of intimacy and already doesn’t want to let go of it. Black Swan presses on Acheron’s shoulder to stop her from rolling on top.
“We need to figure out how you’ve been able to jump worldlines without the help of the Disruptors or your sword.” Black Swan quirks an eyebrow. Back to the situation at hand. “I’m hoping it’s just an aftereffect of the Disruptors’ experiments on you, but if the Ascended One is keeping an eye on you and plucking you from timelines, we need to tread carefully. Even the Voidspace isn’t safe for you.”
“You said I was on the quest for total annihilation.” Acheron takes the hint to back off and lays back down, eyes focused on the woman above her. “What does that mean?”
“I mean it literally,” Black Swan replies. “The Ascended One believes the physical universe is a waste of resources and wants to remove it from existence in order to expand the Voidspace—which doesn’t make sense because the Voidspace doesn’t take up space. Anyway, your sword is capable of deleting entire worldlines, though you’ve only gone as far as removing a planet.”
“The planet—”
“The planet’s gone.” Black Swan sighs, knowing Acheron’s going to feel guilty about it. As predicted, Acheron’s neck muscles tighten with the silent gulp that she takes. “I was swimming through an infinitesimal void and just happened to get lucky enough to feel your sword’s energy enough to locate it. Its energy is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—well, besides your energy. I think the Ascended One did it on purpose so they could track you.”
“It wasn’t enough for them to build the sword using my memories, they had to put a tracker in it, too?” Acheron grumbles.
Black Swan gives a sympathetic smile. “The planet and everything on it has been deleted. The only reason I was able to survive with my human form for as long as I did was because I, as a Timekeeper, am compatible with the void’s makeup. I would’ve brought the sword back with me to the Voidspace so Kafka could look at it, but I fear that the Ascended One will be able to track it.”
“If I’m not safe from the Ascended One’s eyes in the Voidspace, then where can we go?” Acheron asks with a frown.
“We’re safe in my void spell,” Black Swan says. “I made the lock so I have the key. We’re invisible to even Ascended Ones.”
“But I thought they were gods.”
“They're the most powerful when they’re in the Voidspace, but they have little to no power when it comes to the physical universe,” Black Swan explains. She seems smug about it. “That's why they had to recruit Timekeepers. We are the connection that they need. We are mortal and immortal—a perfectly crafted mix of both existences.”
“They were never humans like you were?”
“They existed long before humans were even a concept, darling.”
“And one of these beings decided to use me , of all creatures, to do their dirty work?” Acheron raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“You were strong and desperate for revenge, half-way to wanting to destroy the universe as it were. The Ascended One preyed on that and pushed you over the edge—I suppose they didn’t realize you still had empathy within you. That, or they didn’t think far enough ahead to realize you might just toss the weapon and still survive the Disruptors coming after you.”
“Then, do you think it’s alright if I touch the sword?” Acheron suggests. “I mean—you said that the sword may be healing me and keeping me from dying. Perhaps if I touch the sword, I’ll be okay with the onslaught of memories that come with it. And, if I really did want to die on that planet, then I wouldn’t try and kill you—”
“ I don’t want to risk that. ” Black Swan sits up, detaching from Acheron’s side. Her voice raises from its usual low-level as Acheron sits up with her. Black Swan shakes her head to try and calm her own worries. “There is a chance that I’ve read you wrong from the memories within the sword. If you touch that weapon and I find that you’re truly aligned with the Ascended One’s wishes, I’d have to kill you before you can think about destroying this timeline. I have no idea if you touching the sword will wipe your previous memories as well. It’s too much of a risk.”
And I don’t want to kill you.
“Alright,” Acheron says slowly, seeing the worry on Black Swan’s face. “What do we do next, then? If we can’t risk me touching the sword and we also can’t risk me having my memories returned, what’s the plan?”
“I can bring Kafka here,” Black Swan says. “She can take a look at the sword and perhaps figure out a way to safely retrieve your memories.”
“Kafka—the one who laughed after seeing the innocent lives I’ve taken?” Acheron asks.
“She’s… odd—I won’t deny it. But I trust her.”
“Why can’t you do it?” Acheron frowns. “You gave me my memories from the first time we met. Why can’t you do it with the memories inside of the sword?”
“The memories I gave you from your past-self were still connected to your consciousness.” Black Swan gestures vaguely to the ground, towards the direction where the weapon is. ”The memories within your sword aren’t . It’s why I wasn’t able to really place myself in your shoes when I was reliving those memories. If I tried to transfer those memories to your current self, it would be as if you were watching a documentary about yourself versus actually understanding and owning those memories as your own.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
Black Swan blinks. “What?”
“If the version of me that has memories stuck inside of that sword was evil, I would be able to differentiate those memories.”
“And what about touching the sword? You may gain duplicate memories,” Black Swan replies as her eyebrows wrinkle together in thought. “I would like to get Kafka’s opinion on this, as well as get an update on any information she’s managed to gather on the void spell in your head. I understand your fear of her, but she is truly on our side.”
“ Fear ,” Acheron repeats with a wrinkle of her nose.
“Fear, distrust— whatever it is ,” Black Swan says. She leans in and presses a kiss to Acheron’s cheek. “I’m going to get her from the Voidspace. Put some clothes on, flower.”
Acheron looks down and realizes she’s still naked. Black Swan’s body and the blankets on the bed had kept her warm enough that she’d forgotten she didn’t have clothes on. She hums. “I suppose I have no choice.”
“Well, it’s nothing Kafka hasn’t already seen,” Black Swan says as she gets up from the bed. Acheron admires the view of her nude figure in the dark before Black Swan’s slipping her dress back on and reaching down to grab the sword. She sets the sword on top of the small table in the corner of the hotel room. “Do not touch the sword. I’ll be back shortly.”
“Understood.” Acheron shuffles herself off the bed to turn on the lights. By the time she turns back around, she’s alone in the room. She lets out a little huff of breath through her nostrils as she gathers her clothes and puts them on.
Her eyes keep looking over to the sheathed weapon.
Black Swan had brought up logical, justified concerns about Acheron’s safety when it came to touching the sword and all the memories it would bring back, and yet Acheron still feels her fingers itching to reach out to it.
She sits on the edge of the bed after putting her clothes on and stares at the object holding the rest of her memories. It’s still hard to believe that the sword is the key to unlocking Acheron’s mind. It’s also hard for Acheron to believe that a near-god chose her of all people to do its dirty work.
It makes her wonder just what exactly the Disruptors had done to her in their experiments. Black Swan told Acheron that they’d lied to her in order to get her to join them, but why lie? Was the war on time so one-sided that the Disruptors did anything to gain soldiers? Is that why there are only thirty-five Timekeepers?
What role does Acheron play in this, now that they know an Ascended One gave her that weapon?
Many minutes pass by as Acheron continues her one-sided staring contest with the weapon before Kafka and Black Swan show up. They materialize in front of Acheron, who stands up at their sudden arrival.
Kafka is, thankfully, not nude. She wears a simple outfit consisting of a white button-up and black dress pants. The shirt’s top few buttons are notably undone.
“We meet again, dear Acheron,” Kafka drawls. Her eyes flick over to the weapon resting on the table. “Our little birdie told me you’ve gotten involved with an Ascended One.”
Black Swan pivots her body so she’s standing next to Acheron instead of Kafka, and her hand trails down Acheron’s arm to interlace their fingers together. Acheron doesn’t miss the amused eyebrow raise from Kafka at the action.
“I’ve caught Kafka up on the information we’ve learned,” Black Swan says. “She thinks she has an idea to get your memories back without losing your current self in the process.”
Kafka hums in agreement, turning and taking slow steps towards the weapon on the table. “Black Swan graciously offered herself to tether your souls together.”
Acheron stiffens. “Tether our souls? Like we did for the Voidspace?”
“Correct,” Kafka says. She reaches out for the sword. “Except this time, it’ll be permanent.”
“Permanent?” Acheron repeats, head whipping to the side to look at Black Swan. “What do you mean permanent?”
Kafka goes silent as her hand wraps around the sword’s hilt.
Black Swan lets out a sigh and gently tugs Acheron down so that they’re sitting on the bed together. “I have a theory that your memories stay intact if we’re tethered together. You were okay when I brought you into the Voidspace, but when I untethered our souls and dropped you back into this timeline, you forgot everything again.”
“Instead of dragging you down with me, can’t we figure out why that is?” Acheron frowns. “If we’re tethered permanently, then my death is your death.”
“If it’s any comfort, it is extremely hard to kill a Timekeeper,” Black Swan says with a soft smile.
“Swan.”
Black Swan’s smile drops slightly at Acheron’s serious tone and she presses her side against Acheron’s, tightening her hold on Acheron’s hand. “Kafka was unable to break down the spell, but she wants to compare its magic to the one in the sword and see if that’ll help us understand it better,” she says. “We need to pull some loopholes if we want to get your memories back without the Ascended One’s interference.”
“Should we be worried about them? Are they going to go after us?” Acheron asks.
“I wouldn’t be too worried,” Black Swan replies. “They’re not going to come after you to get the sword back, if that’s what you’re concerned about. They want people to wreak havoc on the mortal universe—and I’m sure they’re handing out weapons to anybody who harbors enough ill-will towards the world to do it. If they try to kill you, they’re going to end up killing me, too, and I doubt that they’d want to have to explain themself to the other Ascended Ones.”
“Your presence grants me immunity, then.” Acheron lets out a mirthless chuckle. Maybe she should feel honored or touched at the thought, but she can only feel despair. “What if I say I don’t want to tether our souls?”
Before Black Swan can reply, Kafka returns to the present.
“Well,” Kafka says, seemingly undisturbed by the memories she’d just witnessed. She turns on her heels to stare at the couple sitting on the bed. “You were right about the memories in the sword being detached, Swan.”
“It would be an odd thing to lie about,” Black Swan comments, gaze shifting between Kafka and Acheron.
Kafka smirks. “The Ascended One who made this sword and the void spell in Acheron’s brain has created their own sort of security system. I can’t get through to the basic runeworkings beneath the webbing without immediately getting pushed out. I don’t even think the sword will hold any real power without Acheron being the one wielding it.”
Kafka trails her eyes over to Acheron. “The best bet you have to get your memories back without losing your current memories is to be tethered to Black Swan when you touch the sword. She can be your anchor for as long as you’re tethered. We’re unsure what will happen if she untethers after you’ve touched the sword, but that’s a risk you’ll have to chance if you really want to. Or you could stay tethered forever. I suppose that’s a romantic thought.”
“ Romantic ?” Acheron repeats in disbelief. “My death would be her death.”
“Yes,” Kafka says with a grin. “Isn’t that the concept of marriage? ‘Til death do us part?”
Acheron opens her mouth to snap out a reply, but Black Swan cuts in.
“Kafka will be here as a safety precaution,” Black Swan says as she stands, taking Acheron with her.
Acheron plants her feet firmly, not letting Black Swan pull her towards the sword. She lets go of Black Swan’s hand. “What about destroying it?”
Kafka raises an eyebrow. “The Memory Sword?”
“You named it?” Black Swan asks in disbelief.
“Yes,” Acheron replies, ignoring Black Swan’s question—though she spots Kafka shrugging smugly towards Black Swan. “What if we destroy it and completely cut ties with the Ascended One? I can still become tethered to Swan in order to obtain the memories in my mind, but the sword’s memories only really pertain to the Ascended One, so I don’t need it. Right?”
Kafka lets out a laugh at this, fully throwing her head back as if what Acheron just said was a hilarious joke. She wipes away tears that form at the corner of her eyes. “Destroy the sword? Rogue Disruptor, that weapon is the main reason we want you on our side.”
“ Kafka ,” Black Swan starts in a warning tone.
“What? It’s true!” Kafka says as she raises her hands in mock surrender. “Besides, I’m not even sure we can destroy the sword. The most we can do is toss it back into the void Black Swan had fetched it out of.”
Acheron crosses her arms. “Well, if the sword needs me to unleash its power, then there’s no harm in doing that.”
“You’re serious about this,” Kafka states as another chuckle leaves her lips. “You do realize this won’t stop the Disruptors from coming after you?”
“They’ve failed to kill me thus far,” Acheron says.
“And our little birdie will have no reason to tether to you if you reject this idea,” Kafka replies as the amusem*nt in her eyes dwindles. Her eyes narrow the slightest bit and her voice lowers. “The power within the sword is what we want. If you don’t want to become a Timekeeper and you don’t want to wield the sword, what use are you to us? You really shouldn’t waste a Timekeeper’s time, flower .”
Hearing the pet name that Black Swan’s been using for her come out of Kafka’s mouth makes bile rise in Acheron’s throat. Anger bubbles in the pit of her stomach.
The silence that Acheron responds with drags on for nearly a minute, but it feels like an eternity. Acheron takes deep breaths, shakily inhaling and exhaling through her nostrils as she stares at Kafka, unwavering beneath the Spider’s gaze. Black Swan worries the two are going to start fighting, but Acheron only glares at her.
Finally, Acheron lets out a low chuckle, completely devoid of actual humor. She gives a shake of her head and lets her gaze drop to the ground.
“Once again, it comes down to me being a weapon,” she whispers, scoffing lightly. “All for a war I don’t care to win.”
“You can be a Timekeeper and still be selfish,” Kafka says. She casually stretches her arms over her head and gives a small yawn. Her demeanor relaxes and she’s back to the smirking, confident Timekeeper Acheron had met her as.
“What does that even mean?” Acheron hisses, eyes snapping up to meet Kafka’s.
“You want to kill the Disruptors for forcing you into their super soldier experiment. Perfect! We want to kill Disruptors for disturbing the universe’s timelines. Our reasons don’t have to align if our actions do.”
“You have a twisted idea of what persuasion is.”
“It would be a shame to toss such a powerful weapon into the void.” Kafka’s grin is devious as she winks at Acheron. “Almost as awful as the thought of losing you is to Black Swan.”
Black Swan clears her throat. “The choice is always yours, Acheron. I can tether our souls and you can become a Timekeeper. If you want, we can get rid of the sword. You are still useful to us without it.”
She gives a pointed glare towards Kafka.
“Right.” Kafka nods. “Who knows what those Disruptors injected you with? You might have super strength or something.”
“And if I decline?” Acheron uncrosses her arms. “The alternatives there are either you two kill me or I go back to chaotically hopping through timelines, which in turns causes me to lose all of my memories.”
“We wouldn’t kill you unless necessary,” Black Swan says, like that’s much comfort. “And upon discussion with Kafka, we believe that the hopping timelines is something you’ve been doing subconsciously—whether it was a power given to you by the Ascended One or a result of the Disruptors’ tests on you is unknown, but you can control it. Otherwise, you’d likely be dead from overdoing it.”
“That doesn’t matter if I don’t have any recollection of doing so.” Acheron sighs. She knits her eyebrows together and glances towards the sword. “I’m already involved in this whether I like it or not. The best option for me would be to join the Timekeepers.”
“Don’t sound too ecstatic about it, now,” Kafka jokes.
“Kafka,” Acheron turns her feet to face the Spider directly. Kafka quirks an eyebrow at the sudden focus on her. “Are you sure there’s no way I can obtain my memories without tethering to Black Swan?”
“Pretty positive.” Kafka nods. “The power that the Ascended One gave you should let you handle the onslaught of memories without going into shock, but those powers could be dependent on the Memory Sword being by your side. We can try spoon feeding you little bits of your memory at a time, but that’s going to take a while—and it might create a domino-effect that unleashes the rest of your memories.”
“So you aren’t sure.”
“It’s not a risk we’re willing to take if we have a tested solution,” Black Swan says.
“It’s not a solution, though.” Acheron shifts her gaze to Black Swan. “You shouldn’t have to put your life on the line for mine, Swan. You barely know me.”
Black Swan’s entire body goes rigid and her eyes widen, out of both hurt and shock. Kafka’s smirk grows as Acheron holds her breath.
Black Swan’s widened-eyes narrow slowly.
“ I barely know you? ” Black Swan repeats in a dangerously low tone, taking three steps forward before she’s standing in front of Acheron. “I’d argue that I know you better than you know yourself, Acheron.”
“I mean—” Acheron fumbles for words, losing her usual stoic nature as frustration takes over. She’s been feeling a lot of that; frustration, confusion, anger —ever since Black Swan’s found her and taught her the world of Disruptors, Timekeepers, and Ascended Ones. She thinks they’re all just morphed variations of her underlying fear of everything. “You’ve known me for all of a day or two. Surely you wouldn’t tether yourself to a total stranger. You were foolish enough to do so in the Voidspace, but to make it permanent ? Black Swan, you cannot seriously be considering this.”
Somewhere in the background, Kafka amusedly takes a seat on the bed and watches the conversation take place.
“Rejecting the idea of becoming tethered on your own accord is one thing, but to reject it because you think I’m foolish in doing so is another.” Black Swan’s voice hardens, though she keeps it leveled. The control in her syllables is as daunting as the weapon still laid flat on the table in the corner of the room. “I know every version of you, Acheron. Intimately . But the version of you I want to help is this one, the one standing in front of me.”
“Intimately?” Kafka parrots, looking down at the bed she’s sitting on with a frown. They both ignore her.
“But you said that I was trying to kill myself,” Acheron whispers. She barely feels the hand that Black Swan presses against her nape. Her entire body tingles, as if she was back in the Voidspace and her body was nothing but a manifestation of her soul. “If we’re tethered—and something happens where I become the old Acheron… If I try to kill myself…”
Acheron trails off. Black Swan gets the idea.
“You’re scared.” Black Swan’s voice softens as she connects the dots.
“ Aren’t you? ” Acheron hisses immediately. “We’re dealing with an Ascended One who apparently put a tracker in my sword so they know I’m destroying entire planets like they want me to. They were able to create a weapon capable of calamities and they took my memories as hostage so I would constantly keep going back to wielding that damn thing. It would be more concerning if I wasn’t scared.”
“Then let’s use the sword that they made to go against them,” Black Swan suggests lightly, speaking softly to counter Acheron’s harsh words. She runs her thumb across Acheron’s jawline. “Become a Timekeeper. Let me tether our souls. We can work together for the infinite future, flower. I want this. I want you .”
“How could you want me? Knowing the pain and destruction I’ve caused, how could you want to tether your soul to mine?” Acheron knows she sounds like a pathetic, broken record, but she can’t help it.
She doesn’t understand why Black Swan is going through all of this trouble just for her—if it is just for her, and not for the weapon that only listens to Acheron’s touch.
Acheron bites her tongue as harsher questions come to mind.
How do I know you don’t want to only weaponize me like everybody else? Were those kisses we shared only meant to persuade me?
How are you any different than the Disruptors and the Ascended One?
“You have gone through so much, Acheron. And you’ve gone through all of it alone ,” Black Swan whispers. She leans her forehead against Acheron’s. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
Acheron abruptly pulls away and takes a bit of Black Swan’s heart with her. She steps back, colliding with the hotel’s dresser and reaching behind her to grip the edge of the wood furniture.
“Is death the only way I can get out of this situation without joining sides or constantly losing my memories?” Acheron asks.
Kafka groans as she gets to her feet and walks forward to stand beside Black Swan. “Birdie, let’s go already. She doesn’t want to become a Timekeeper, and you know we don’t recruit those who are unwilling.”
Acheron shifts her gaze between the two Timekeepers, seeing Black Swan’s sad eyes and Kafka’s annoyed eye rolls. She feels her stomach churn uncomfortably.
She can become a Timekeeper, and thus tie Black Swan’s fate to her own, or she can stumble around the universe while perpetually being on the run from the Disruptors who want to kill her— without any recollection of why they want to kill her .
None of those options seem fun to her.
Her eyes flick over to the sword on the table.
Acheron licks her chapped lips nervously. “You’ll kill me before I can do anything, right?”
Black Swan’s eyes widen when she notices where Acheron’s eyes are directed. “Acheron, no .”
Acheron lunges towards the table and grasps the hilt of the sword as Black Swan shouts for her to stop.
Kafka’s purple webs wrap around Acheron’s wrists to try and pull her away, but it’s a millisecond too late. Acheron’s eyes fall shut as she’s thrown into the memories that the sword holds.
In a flash, her hair turns white and the tattoos on her body burn bright red. The unnatural vibration of the atoms within her body calms to normal speeds—as if the sword hides the effect of time-travel within her. The sword’s energy also lowers with Acheron’s touch onto it.
“If you want to tether your souls together, now’s the time to do it,” Kafka says, speaking faster than her usual, lax pace. She wraps more webbing around Acheron, in case the Acheron that returns tries to fight them, and glances towards Black Swan. Black Swan stares at Acheron with her mouth slightly agape. Kafka sucks her teeth. “ Swan , did you hear me?
“She didn’t want to,” Black Swan replies with a shake of her head, quickly gathering herself. “Tethering to an unwilling soul is too risky. She said—”
“Dammit.” Kafka sighs and tightens her webs. She tries to pull the sword out of Acheron’s grip, but Acheron’s holding on so tightly that her knuckles have turned nearly as white as her hair. Kafka can’t even uncurl a single finger of Acheron’s. She’s strong, unbelievably so—and Kafka is only a tiny bit impressed.
Black Swan holds her breath as she and Kafka wait for Acheron’s return silently.
Kafka clears her throat.
“You’re prepared to kill her if we need to, yes?” Kafka asks, raising an expectant eyebrow as she glances towards Black Swan.
“If we need to,” Black Swan repeats steadily.
Kafka nods and returns her focus to Acheron’s seemingly frozen body. She doesn’t quite believe that Black Swan’s telling the truth. Her long-time friend has always been on the sentimental side, and Kafka figures she has to be ready to kill Acheron at the snap of her fingers if Black Swan cannot.
She settles the webbing around both of Acheron’s wrists and around her neck, ready to tighten them should the need call.
Kafka and Black Swan wait in tense silence for two more minutes before Acheron stirs. Her eyelids flutter open, her pupils as bright red as the tattoos running along her skin. Bloody tears roll down her cheeks, but she shows no emotion.
Those eyes widen when they feel the uncomfortably warm webbing around her skin and she turns her body to face the other two women, struggling against Kafka’s reins.
Her eyes lock onto Black Swan.
“Acheron,” Black Swan calls out gently. “Do you know who we are?”
Acheron’s hair stays white. Her tattoos and eyes stay red. She tilts her head, causing the purple webbing to dig into her skin and sear it. She shows no sign of pain despite the audible hissing noise of the webs burning her skin.
“Yes. I know who you are.”
Black Swan had gotten so used to Acheron’s confused questions or angered outbursts that she’s surprised to hear the calm, emotionless voice that leaves Acheron’s lips. It’s the same way she spoke when Black Swan first met her in the club, and it makes Black Swan stiffen. Is this the Acheron that she’d hugged and kissed? Or is this the Acheron who’d killed millions without so much of a blink?
Kafka’s left eyebrow raises. “ How do you know us?”
Acheron slowly shifts her gaze over to Kafka. The webbing on her neck has dug deep enough to draw blood, the redness contrasting against her skin as violently as her tattoos do. “At first, because the Ascended One showed me all of the Timekeepers.”
Kafka’s fingers buzz as she waits to tighten the webs. “And then?”
“Black Swan found me,” Acheron says simply. “I remember everything. I remember my life before my home planet was destroyed. I remember my life as a Disruptor, and my life as a rogue Disruptor. I remember the Ascended One making contact with me, and then being given this sword. Everything led me back home—and that’s where I planned on ending it all.”
Acheron glances down with her eyes to the weapon still grasped in her right hand. The tears that had been rolling down her cheeks drop to the ground unceremoniously. No more tears accumulate in her eyes.
“Black Swan, you were right,” Acheron states. “I wanted to die.”
“ Wonderful ,” Kafka drawls.
“Kafka, drop your webs,” Black Swan commands lightly.
“That doesn’t sound like the best idea, birdie.” Kafka looks Acheron up and down, gaze lingering on the weapon that she’s still wielding. She at least loosens the webbing enough that Acheron’s able to move her neck without it slicing into her. “She might collapse this timeline the second I let go of her.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Acheron says.
“I have no reason to believe you.” Kafka chuckles. She meets Acheron’s red eyes without flinching. “While you may be the Acheron that Black Swan picked up off the street like a lost puppy, you are also the Acheron that the Ascended One saw potential in—potential to destroy the physical universe. I’ll let you free once I know for sure you’re not going to use that sword against us.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Acheron nods, taking a moment to let Kafka’s words settle as her eyes once again drop to look down at the weapon. Finally, some semblance of emotion breaks through Acheron’s tone—her next words coming out softly, and in its softness; a tremble in her syllables. It’s like she blinked and something within her locked into place. “I am… pieces of myself. Since the complete annihilation of my home, I think I have always been parts of different wholes—and then I became fully fragmented when the Ascended One took half of me to make this sword. The potential they saw in me was partly because I was already so lost.”
Her lips part as she exhales, lifting her gaze to look at Black Swan. “I’ve successfully retrieved and retained my memories without having to be tethered to you. That was the main reason I did not want to become a Timekeeper. You have treated me with kindness that I haven’t been treated with in thousands of years, and I didn’t want to repay that by dragging you down with me. I wouldn’t be able to live knowing our deaths were tied to each other’s.”
She looks at Kafka.
“I want to stay by Black Swan’s side,” Acheron says. “If being a Timekeeper is the only way, then I accept.”
Kafka snorts. “Romantic. Somehow even more romantic than tethering your souls together. Bravo, flower.”
“Don’t call me that.” Acheron frowns.
Despite being so tense, Black Swan can’t help the small curve of her lips at Acheron’s discomfort hearing Kafka use her pet name for her.
Kafka laughs and snaps her fingers. The webs disappear instantaneously, as do the wounds on Acheron’s neck.
There is a heavy five seconds that follows where nobody in the hotel room moves—all waiting for another person to make the first move.
Acheron sheathes her sword and clips it to her belt by her left hip. With the sword being sheathed, Acheron’s hair and tattoos return to their normal colors. Black Swan lets out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
Kafka lets out a breath as she rolls her shoulders back. “Well. Now that that’s settled, I’ll leave the rest to you, Swan.”
Black Swan nods. “Thank you again, Spider.”
Kafka waves her hand nonchalantly. “No thanks needed. This is the second most interesting thing that’s happened to me in several millennia. Do keep me updated, dear.”
Acheron blinks. “What’s the first most interesting thing?”
Kafka winks at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
And then she’s gone in the next second.
Acheron stares at where Kafka’s body used to be, but Black Swan stares only at Acheron. For a few moments, they are silent. Black Swan takes the silence to really examine Acheron, looking for any signs of differences between the one who held her like she was made of the most fragile material in the universe versus the one who came back from viewing the memories within the sword.
There’s no difference.
She’s still her Acheron.
“Petal,” Black Swan whispers. Acheron’s eyes snap over to Black Swan, widening when she sees how adoringly Black Swan is already gazing at her. “Are you truly alright?”
Black Swan only needs to take two steps forward to be within arms reach of Acheron, and those arms immediately curl around Black Swan’s waist to pull her in. Black Swan gasps softly as she’s tugged into Acheron’s embrace, her own arms wrapping around Acheron’s shoulders to keep herself steady while Acheron’s body slumps back against the table. She’s half-sitting, half-standing, body curled into Black Swan’s as a full-body shiver runs through her.
Black Swan threads her fingers through Acheron’s hair as Acheron buries her face into the warmth of Black Swan’s neck.
“I felt… nothing in those memories,” Acheron says against Black Swan’s skin. Her nails dig slightly into Black Swan’s sides as she exhales shakily. “My anger numbed me to every other feeling. I don’t want to go back to feeling like that.”
“You won’t,” Black Swan says. She presses a gentle kiss to the side of Acheron’s head.
Acheron pulls back to stare into Black Swan’s eyes. “How do you know that? I was… When I first came to, it felt like I was her again: the Acheron run by grief.”
“Because I’m here now,” Black Swan replies easily. She cups Acheron’s face with her hands. “You don’t feel like that now, do you?”
“No.” Acheron shakes her head subtly. “I… I still feel like the version of me that you found. Fortunately, my past-self seems… far away. It took me a moment to adjust, but I’m scared of slipping back into my old ways.”
“That’s alright.” Black Swan hums. She takes a moment to scan Acheron’s face, noting the downturned lips and the dilated pupils. “Acheron, do you really want to stay by my side?”
“Yes,” Acheron answers.
“I want you to really think about it, love.” Black Swan runs the pad of her thumb across Acheron’s cheek. A pindrop of guilt digs at her. “I’m sorry that the conversation has always been about using you and your sword to end the Disruptors. It put us in the same category as the Disruptors and the Ascended One that used you, but I want you to know that you have no obligation to us. I want to know what you want, and I want to give you that.”
“Aren’t you supposed to try and recruit me?” Acheron asks confusedly, though a small smile grows on her lips at Black Swan’s consideration.
“As a Timekeeper, yes—that should be what I’m doing. But as Black Swan, no.” Black Swan leans in and presses a gentle kiss to those smiling lips. She lingers and pulls away after inhaling softly. “I want you to be happy, Acheron. I think you’re long overdue for some of it.”
Acheron’s smile grows despite the tears that immediately well up in her eyes. These tears aren’t bloody, nor are they caused by pain. She presses her forehead against Black Swan’s and exhales shakily. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” Black Swan says. “If you want to travel with me, without being a Timekeeper, just say the word and I will bring you along.”
“You would?” Acheron questions with surprise in her eyes. “You want me to stay by you?”
“Of course,” Black Swan answers immediately. “I’ve thought about getting you a second weapon; one that won’t destroy planets with a single swing. That way, you can still protect yourself from attackers without unsheathing the one with your memories.”
Acheron lets out a laugh of disbelief. Suddenly, she leans forward, lifting Black Swan’s body as she stands to her feet properly. Black Swan yelps as she’s picked up from the ground, immediately wrapping her legs around Acheron’s waist and tightening her arms around her shoulders.
“ What are you—! ” Black Swan gasps.
Acheron walks her over to the bed and eases her down gently, holding all of Black Swan’s body weight without any hint of effort. Acheron’s still laughing, shaking her head as her eyes water. She stares at Black Swan beneath her, her lavender hair splayed out beneath her like the aura of an angel, and feels her heart slam against her chest.
Her stomach flips when one of Black Swan’s hands comes up to the side of her neck. Black Swan gazes up at Acheron with wide-eyes, surprised at the sudden positioning they’re in. Acheron’s body settles in between Black Swan’s legs, their lower bodies pressed together as Acheron holds herself up with her palms against the mattress beneath them.
The longer they stare at each other, the more mellow the atmosphere becomes. Black Swan’s forehead wrinkles in concern.
“What is it, flower?” Black Swan whispers as tears slip from Acheron’s eyes.
“Is it alright if I say I don’t want to kill anybody in the foreseeable future?” Acheron asks shakily, as if she’s scared Black Swan will judge her for it. Black Swan’s practically heart crumples in on itself.
“That’s perfectly fine, dear. I will protect you.” Black Swan smiles comfortingly despite her heartache. She wipes away Acheron’s tears and leans up to press a kiss on her cheek. “You won’t have to lift a finger so long as you stay near me.”
Acheron’s eyes widen the tiniest fraction at Black Swan’s response. Then, those eyes soften and she takes a deep breath.
“Then I don’t need more time to think,” Acheron says. She leans in closer and feels her skin warm up when Black Swan arches her back to meet her half-way. Acheron slips her right hand to Black Swan’s waist as her other hand continues to keep her up. “I want you. I want to stay by your side for the infinite future— if you’ll have me .”
“ Mmm .” Black Swan pretends to ponder the thought, her lips curling into a smile. Acheron’s hand snakes further behind her body, running up and down her spine as Black Swan leans her chin up, eyes twinkling as she stares at Acheron. “I’d like that very much, my sweet flower.”
Acheron kisses her gently and Black Swan immediately reciprocates, though her growing smile makes it hard for them to properly kiss.
Acheron leans back with her own smile. “I look forward to being able to make up for all that you’ve done for me.”
“You’ve got many lifetimes to do so.” Black Swan quirks a playful eyebrow in a challenge. She leans down to Acheron’s neck, where there is still dried blood from Kafka’s webs, and licks a broad stripe upwards, slowly and teasingly, until her lips graze Acheron’s earlobe. Acheron shudders above her. “You could start now…?”
“You’re a bit of a fox, aren’t you?” Acheron asks rhetorically as she leans her face to the side and kisses the answer from Black Swan’s lips.
For fifty years, Acheron and Black Swan jump worldline to worldline, enjoying their time together when they’re not off finding and fixing disruptions in the timelines.
Black Swan had gotten Acheron a regular sword the moment the two stepped out of that hotel room they’ve spent their first time together in. Acheron, who’s not used to unsheathing with her left hand, takes a few weeks of practice to get used to it—but she learns quickly.
She’s not a Timekeeper, but she might as well be an honorary one. She’s always by Black Swan’s side and although she hasn’t needed to pull out her own sword, she knows she wouldn’t hesitate if Black Swan were ever to be in danger.
Black Swan, of course, holds her own against any and all of the Disruptors that they run into. Her method of killing reminds Acheron of her own sword fighting, but instead of using a sword, Black Swan uses blades; some physical and some that she materializes with her own spells. She slices quickly, aiming for the spots she knows will instantly kill.
Seeing Black Swan fight and knowing the other Timekeepers are at similar levels makes it fairly obvious why there’s only thirty-five of them and hundreds of thousands of Disruptors.
-
Acheron worries after a particularly sketchy fight involving multiple Disruptors that she’ll need to pull her own sword soon enough.
“Are you alright, dear?” Black Swan flutters around Acheron’s body where she’s seated on the closed toilet seat of their new-and-improved void-spelled hotel room.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Acheron assures.
Black Swan’s forehead is still wrinkled. Though Acheron hadn’t unsheathed her sword, she did have to get physical with the Disruptors; punching and holding them down while Black Swan killed the others. She’d told Acheron that she wouldn’t need to lift a finger, and Black Swan’s not even been able to properly protect for less than sixty years.
“Swan, please .” Acheron stands after having enough of Black Swan’s huffing and puffing. She places her hands on Black Swan’s waist. “I’m alright. Truly.”
Black Swan deflates. “I’m sorry. You had to fight today because I got careless. I should’ve been able to tell it was a set-up—”
“That’s not your fault,” Acheron says, cutting Black Swan off. She presses a chaste kiss to Black Swan’s lips. “I’m alright. Are you? You weren’t harmed, were you?”
“No, no.” Black Swan shakes her head. She lets out a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
“Then we’re fine,” Acheron says with a smile. “Let’s take a shower? I think we could use a moment of… relaxation after the day we’ve had.”
Black Swan’s frown hasn’t quite gone away, but she rolls her eyes lightheartedly and starts to unbutton her jeans.
Acheron’s smile grows.
—
The first time Acheron has to kill somebody goes about the same way.
The Disruptors have gotten much better at hiding the after effects of their time-travels. Acheron, still not a Timekeeper and thus not able to distinguish a time-traveler from someone who hasn’t traveled, can tell that Black Swan has gotten extra cautious when it comes to picking out Disruptors to kill.
Sometimes, Acheron will feel Black Swan grab her hand and they’d suddenly be on a different planet.
“Too many of them,” Black Swan would say regrettably.
“I can fight, too, Swan.”
“No. Not yet. You deserve more peace.”
Except, when Acheron hears Black Swan cry out in pain from across the abandoned parking garage that they’ve been surrounded in, Acheron thinks she’s done with peace.
She almost unsheathes the Memory Sword out of pure habit—and pure rage. She sees red, but blinks away the anger clouding her brain.
Within the same second, Acheron pulls the sword on her right side instead and instantly slices the neck of the Disruptor she’d been punching.
Acheron leaves a trail of dead bodies as she makes her way to her lover.
Black Swan is holding her own despite the gash on her upper right arm. She’s forgone her physical blades and instead shoots out blades from her hands, flicking them out as if she were flicking out playing cards. They lodge themselves into Disruptors throats, glowing bright white and then disappearing as the Disruptors fall to the ground.
“Swan!” Acheron calls out. She runs forward just as Black Swan kills the last of them. Acheron sheathes her sword, the both of them breathing heavily.
Acheron ghosts her hands over Black Swan’s injury. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“You… You killed,” Black Swan says in a daze, eyes focused on the bodies on the ground behind Acheron. “You used the sword.”
“Why isn’t it healing? It usually heals by now.” Acheron continues to fuss out loud.
Black Swan focuses back onto Acheron. “Flower, you—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Acheron hisses. “I heard you get hurt and I knew I had to do something more— Swan, why isn’t it healing ?”
Black Swan looks towards the dead man’s body whose weapon—a pretty little dagger—sliced her arm. She kneels down and plucks the weapon from his cold fingers.
Then, she finds herself being pulled into memories.
More goddamn memories.
Black Swan resists the pull. She grits her teeth and looks up at Acheron.
“It seems like the Ascended One has been giving out more weapons.”
The next time Kafka sees Acheron, it’s nearly a hundred years later. She’s standing tall next to Black Swan as the two of them walk through the Voidspace. Black Swan’s body has the glowing skin as usually seen in the Voidspace and yet Acheron walks around like she’s still in the physical universe. Her tattoos are on full-display, as are the scars that have been left behind on her skin.
The Memory Sword is still attached to her left hip, but there is another sword of the same length and build attached to her right side.
Kafka examines them for a second, and then she quickly morphs into her human-form and laughs loudly.
Acheron and Black Swan aren’t tethered, which could only mean one thing. Acheron has officially become the thirty-sixth Timekeeper.
“Welcome to the club!” Kafka cackles.
“Thanks,” Acheron deadpans. “We were actually coming to see you.”
Kafka raises an eyebrow. “Oh? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Black Swan clears her throat and nods towards Kafka. “Your phoenix.”
“What about her?” Kafka asks.
Acheron crosses her arms as they come to a stop in front of Kafka. “She’s one of the Disruptor’s leaders.”
…
When Kafka shows no reaction, Black Swan scoffs.
“You knew.”
“Of course I knew!” Kafka’s laughter echoes throughout the large bedroom. “I have been infatuated with that woman for several thousand years, my dear Swan. I would be a horrible Timekeeper if I didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Black Swan frowns.
“I wasn’t sure you’d agree with me fraternizing with the enemy,” Kafka says through lingering chuckles. She then points to Acheron. “Now I know that you know very well what it’s like doing so, but it honestly slipped my mind. Forgive me, birdie. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret for so long.”
“I should’ve known there was something else that attracted you to her besides her beauty,” Black Swan says, more to herself than anyone else, as she shakes her head disapprovingly. “Not just a Disruptor, but a Disruptor leader , Kafka!”
“She’s harmless.” Kafka waves her hand. “She works for a branch of the Disruptors that focuses on cleaning up after fights.”
“Yes, we know,” Acheron says. “We’ve met her.”
Kafka’s eyes narrow imperceptibly. “Have you, now? Is she… alright?”
“She’s unharmed.” Black Swan sighs, sensing Kafka’s hostility jump up a notch. “She sought us out, actually.”
Acheron continues explaining to save them time. “The Ascended One who gave me the Memory Sword—”
“The name stuck!” Kafka exclaims.
Acheron keeps talking like she hadn’t said anything, “—is now looking to recruit the entirety of the Disruptors onto their side. Himeko doesn’t trust them, and so she found us to ask for more information about them. She’s willing to offer details behind the experiments run on Acheron if we can give her intel.”
Kafka’s lips curve up into a knowing smirk. “She’s willingly working with Timekeepers?”
“We’re the only ones that know what Ascended Ones are truly capable of,” Acheron says.
Kafka looks over to Black Swan. “You have her waiting in a room that you’ve put a void spell on, don’t you?”
“Yes, Kafka,” Black Swan answers with the slightest roll of her eyes. “She’s asked for your presence—says she hates you, but she trusts you enough not to lie to her.”
“Take me to her,” Kafka orders without hesitation. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to see her.”
“You could say ‘please’.” Acheron huffs.
Kafka flashes a dangerous grin. “I’m sure you’re used to your beloved’s begging, but I will do no such thing.”
“Kafka, ew !” Black Swan swats her hand at Kafka, but Kafka’s quick enough to morph back into her soul form to avoid being hit. Amusem*nt swirls in the air surrounding Kafka’s wisps.
“Take me to Himeko. I would like to see my love.”
“She hates you,” Acheron says as Black Swan closes her eyes to prepare to send both of them back to the library conference room that Himeko is currently waiting in.
“Hate and love aren’t that different, you know?”
“Delusional…” Black Swan mutters.
Kafka’s laugh reverberates through all of their brains as they’re sent back to the mortal universe.
Acheron, despite still being wary of Kafka, finds herself amused at the banter.
Though the next chapter of her life will undoubtedly be dangerous, Acheron thinks that with the companions she’s managed to luck out and find, she’ll be okay.
And then she sees the way Kafka's eyes turn disgustingly humongous and lovestruck when she spots Himeko and thinks:
Well. At least I have Swan.
