Ichor and black blood splattered the walls of cavernous halls, a humid draft blowing through Park Jimin's hair and the peeled chips of paint on the wall. He trudged over dirt and rock, sometimes tripping over dust. Beside his own footsteps, squeaking mice or the occasional whisper sounded from below. The first few floors of this hotel mimicked forgotten catacombs rather than a lavish network of ballrooms and lounges.
He used a fallen wall sconce to tear down waterfalls of cobwebs. When it was completely coated in spider's silk, he tossed it to the side and pulled out his flashlight, recalling Jungkook's taunt.
Outside, a few seconds after Anaphiel split and a few moments before Jimin and Jungkook split up, Jimin pulled out his tool.
"You brought a flashlight?" Jungkook had asked.
Jimin had peered down at it and grinned. "You didn't?"
"We can see in the dark."
"Grey can't," Jimin said.
"Short and thoughtful." Jungkook clapped him on the back with a charming smile and took off into a sprint. He disappeared around the edge of the building. Jimin hoped he would be okay.
The light clicked on, a steady beam piercing the darkness ahead. At the very end of the hallway was a pair of dark wooden doors. As he approached them, the angel also studied the artwork near his head. Shattered frames held photographs of people decorated with expensive, older clothing. In one, a handsome man and woman laughed near a stage. In another, a woman leaned on the bar with her arms spread to the side in silent invitation. This corridor seemed to be some sort of gallery. Antique paintings of cinemas and celebrities littered the floor or hung suspended from their spots by a single nail.
A rat scuffled over his foot. The angel shrieked, jumping until it disappeared into a hole in the wall. Then, he laughed. Because of all things creeping around this hotel, he yelped for the smallest threat. Getting to the double doors was a blessing. He pushed into the next room.
Tall, red walls painted with black stretched into oblivion. Stones and sand coated the floor. It still smelled of sewage and stagnant water. No windows. No doors. Another long hallway. Jimin scanned the ceiling and corners for movement. No irkans were in this part either.
The flashlight illuminated his path. It was easier to find clearings of marble floor through the rubble with the beam. He no longer slipped. Another rat scurried an inch ahead of his foot. It no longer surprised him. One step at a time, he made his way to the second exit--a pair of dark wooden doors. Throwing them open, he covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. The trash smell had gotten worse. However, his surroundings remained mild.
Tall, red walls painted with black extended into an abyss. Big rocks and sand covered the ground. No windows. No doors. Another long hallway.
Jimin did not cross the threshold. Instead, he shone light on the paintings in this new section and the section he had just left.
A man and woman laughed near a stage. A woman leaned on the stage with her arms spread.
He frowned. Weren't those portraits at the end of the first hallway too?
In the new passage, an old painting of a Western-style theater in Hollywood swallowed most of the wall. And he had seen it before... side by side with the doors he kept opening.
Running ahead, Jimin analyzed the paintings. All of them were the same.
He stopped at a certain rock, waiting patiently for what came next. As if on cue, a black rat shimmied from one crack in the wall and skipped to the opposite wall, meters away from his foot.
This was a loop. Repetitive phenomena. A staple of Vanity's power, her mind games.
Jimin placed a hand on the solid wooden doors. Turning around, he shone the light through where he just ran. An endless hallway reached and reached, two separate pairs of doors differently opened ajar at separate distances. Still... their pictures, their arrangement.
They were exactly the same.
He had gone through three of the same corridors carelessly.
Whirling on the fourth set of doors, he shoved. A bloody hallway smiled back, the reek of irkan waste nearly insufferable. Jimin gagged and dropped his flashlight.
A shadow fell from the ceiling. Gray-skinned and bathed in obsidian blood, the nightstalker snapped its jaws inches from the angel's nose. Jimin stumbled back, it's salivating maw nipping at his cheek this time. It's breath was warm and unforgivable, it's growling and rumbling echoing louder off the towering walls.
Jimin used his forearm to block it's wild swing, throwing his bow to the side to free his hands. The demon stepped closer, screeching as he tried and failed to take a bite of the angel's head. Their chests were soon to touch and so were their foreheads.
Jimin jammed his palm into the side of the irkan's head, leaping away as the frail skeleton almost tipped over. While it tried to regain balance, the Ripper slammed his foot onto it's ribcage to pin it to the doorframe, grabbed it's head with both hands, and pulled. He fell back as the irkan's spine created a sickly pop, the skull coming apart in his fingers. It's body landed with a thud.
Onyx eyes rolled to the back of it's head, it's jaw lifelessly opening. Jimin scowled and threw it's head at one of the photos. Snatching up his flashlight and bow, he looked to the end of the hall.
Two pairs of wooden doors graced the far wall. And not another irkan.
Knowing the Queen, this was a puzzle and there had to be an answer. The question was just how long the game would last. With this trick, she could have him running in the same place for eternity. The prize could be in the very next stage.
He crossed the distance, taking care to leap over the rat.
Left or right. Two sets of doors, two chances. Nothing could tell what lied behind each, but he hoped that Grey or the book surprised him at either turn. He stood still and closed his eyes, feeling the energy of each entrance. Whichever called to him most would be the one he would open.
Right. I should open the right.
He fixed his hand around the handle, and paused. So what if it was her game. He would follow his own rules. Grunting, Jimin kicked through the doors on his right.
Two irkans sprinted from the opposite end of the tunnel. Wordlessly, Jimin stole an arrow from his quiver and raised his bow. The resounding whizz of the arrow zipped through the hall until it struck rotted flesh. The first demon fell to his knees, falling onto his head where the arrow dug deeper into his skull.
The second nightstalker howled. It's arms flailed at it's sides as it bared black teeth. The thing was fast. A little too fast for comfort. Jimin nocked a second arrow, pointing at it's heart. The ugly bastard leapt for the angel, and just as his iron claws sank into Jimin's shoulders, he released.
Black blood sprayed his shirt. He fell back onto the sand and stones, groaning when a rock too large knocked the air from his lungs. The irkan atop him struggled and wrestled, but eventually stopped flinching. Jimin shoved him off, wiping sweat from his brow.
If that was the door on the right... then what happened to the one on the left?
This time, he positioned his arrow straight ahead when he forced the doors. A quick scan of the ceiling and walls proved the absence of irkans. But instead of photos on the walls, the demon ichor spelled something.
His eyes watered from the smell of these tunnels. Still, he ventured inside. Obsidian blood functioned as ink over the scarlet damask.
DON'T LOOK IN THE MIRROR
At the end of this path was three sets of double doors. Jimin swore. How much time had he wasted? What was going on upstairs?
Any of the three doors would open if he so chose. What they hid, he wished he could discern. Why were the irkans so quiet? What was the point of going through this maze? Would any of this help?
Panic began to set in, thick and heavy. They could not stall Vanity forever. If they failed tonight because he could not find a bigger picture... he could not imagine such a future. In fact, the image of even a day without the people above drove his next decision. Because screw the doors, screw Vanity, screw repetition.
Jimin pressed the bow and arrow close to his chest, mustering as much strength as he could. Then, he yelled and charged straight through the wall, bringing down bricks, dust, and plaster.
He'd be damned if he entered another stupid doorway.
:::
Jungkook licked his lips.
He held his sword high in his hand so that if the need came to use it, he would be absolutely ready. The part of the hotel he'd entered earlier consisted of a framework of tiny passages marked by busted pipes overhead. The ground was smooth concrete. There were not walls at his sides, but more pipes. Thinner and rusted. He assumed this space to be the basement.
With night vision, the basement glowed a pearlescent blue. Almost like there was actual light in the room it highlighted movement and outlined figures that loomed in the distance. That was how he found the irkans that were dumb enough to stalk through his city streets. He saw right through them and ended them on the spot.
A hiss of steam erupted from a pipe at his left. Calmly, Jungkook eased around it, doing his best to not let the smoke obscure his vision. None of these pipes should have been working. The fact that they were meant Vanity had been living here longer than they thought.
He used a small staircase and an exit door to wiggle onto the first floor of the hotel. Whether it was another service wing or part of the lobby, he couldn't tell. The ceiling had caved in, broken crystal strewn across the floor like pieces of ice. What drew his attention most was the enormous metallic door. Shaped like a circle, it had actually been opened slightly.
Slipping inside, Jungkook stifled a gasp.
Gold bars piled nearly to the ceiling shimmered in his night vision. Not only bars but coins too. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. The room teemed with wealth of centuries past and present. He'd walked right into a vault.
He lowered his sword. The gold bars were still smooth and silky to the touch. Unused and untouched. They had markings of years and engraved images. One of them told of the year 1712. A man in hanbok with his hands behind his back carved the slick top. Minsu Cho, it read. Jungkook hadn't a clue what it meant. He tried another one. A North American Indian decorated that one, the year being 1492.
If the angel would have breathed, he would not have heard the light footfalls coming towards him. He darted to the corner behind a pile of coins, pressing his sword across his body to keep it hidden. Joining the footsteps was a casual whistle. Even more, another pair of footsteps.
Two people were on their way. Jungkook slowed his breathing, clinging to the silence, trying to melt into it.
"Your Majesty," a grated, hoarse voice whined. "Allow me to handle the matter."
"No," another voice snapped. Jungkook's blood turned to ice in his veins. He'd heard that a thousand times before. He wished he could duck lower, but it was already too late. They were in the same room. He was in the same room.
Rowan added, "Drakar, we will have time to attack."
Drakar. One of the original demons. A few notches lower than Aelith, an entire legion smaller than Solis. An infamous monster all the same. That thing and Rowan in the same vicinity? If there was ever a time when Jungkook doubted the safety of the Eternal Realm, it was now.
Drakar talked like he was sucking slobber back into his mouth. "Your Majesssty, Her Highness sssaid that the angels are becoming restless."
Rowan's shoes scuffled near the entrance. Gold bars grated against one another. He had to be touching them. The First King said, "You will be patient and listen to your orders. Her Highness has overstepped her boundaries. I plan to discipline her tomorrow evening when she attempts to discipline my prey."
Jungkook blanched. The King had no idea that they were already here. Anaphiel had no idea the First King was here.
If their paths crossed...
They were prepared for Vanity, but not...
Jungkook couldn't help it. His heartbeat accelerated. His breathing quickened in turn. He tensed, praying to the stars above that his muscles wouldn't brush one of these coins.
"Yesss. Anyone that disobeysss you should be punished."
Rowan chuckled darkly. "Who knows, Drakar. Would you like to be my general?"
Wet feet slapped against concrete as the demon jumped up and down. "Oh, Your Majesssty! Me?"
"There might be an empty spot. She has gotten on my very last nerve. The audacity of her to be prideful. It's as if she wants to take what is mine and claim it as her own."
"Nooo, no. Bad. Very bad."
"I agree." Metal slammed against metal. The impact caused Jungkook's pile to rustle. Coins spilled from behind him, tumbling into the center of the room like an avalanche. A stack of gold bars alone separated Jungkook from the First King. The angel could feel his heart threatening to stop. Rowan said, "Look at me. Making a mess of my riches."
Drakar chuckled. The sound mirrored coughing more than amusement. Rowan sighed.
"I hate having to kill an ally," the First King groaned.
The ground shook. Thunder echoed through the entire first floor. Jungkook held steady, the noise loud enough to cover the sound of his sword clattering onto cement. As things seemed to quiet down, another crack of thunder came, then another. Each of them at timed intervals. Something was happening. Something big.
"What the hell is that?" Rowan asked. Drakar responded with a hiss. They both ran from the room. Jungkook pushed onto his knees, examining the safe. The gold bars were steady against the miniature earthquake. The coins were not. Jungkook slipped over a handful of them trying to get up.
The wall exploded.
Concrete shattered like glass, raining down on the silhouette that burst from the seams. Covered in white dust, the shadow balled his fists and leaned forward.
Was he about to charge?
Jungkook leapt in front of him, holding his hand and sword out. Instead of fighting back, the powdered body swayed back and forth. His breathing was labored. Blood streamed down the side of his cheek.
"Jimin?"
Jimin fell to his knees, revealing a gaping hole in the wall. And several holes behind that one. He was the source of the thunder.
Jungkook rushed to his friend, wiping dirt and debris from his hair, his face, his clothes. "Are you alright?"
Jimin coughed. "I'm not... playing her game anymore."
Jungkook wanted to soothe him, but Rowan's voice still danced through his veins. It still set his nerves on edge. He threw Jimin's arm around his shoulders and lifted. Jimin was already limping.
"We have to go."
"There was no time," Jimin moaned. His head lulled back.
Jungkook tilted so that it would fall forward. "We have to go now. Did you find anything?"
"Circle staircase. That way," Jimin said, peering in the direction of his last few holes.
Jungkook dragged the tiny angel along, hoping he still had fight left in him.
:::
Yoongi memorized every small, stupid detail of that lounge. Spacial measurements between pillars and fallen furniture, hazardous areas where there were more obstacles than room, Vanity's favored locations. He left when Jin was going on a tirade, and to be honest, he hoped the eldest angel would not be killed first. He hoped no one would be killed at all. But such dreams were a luxury in battle.
He re-entered the hotel through one of the exit doors. It transported him to the heart of the lobby. Drapes, worn and heavy with mud, hung lifelessly from broken rods. The velvet seats had been slashed at the cushions. The receptionist desk was completely overturned. Blood painted the marble floor in streaks. Like a mop had been dragged through a puddle of it, or someone stepped and slid in it. Yoongi ignored the obvious handprints staining the wall.
He came to a segment of elevators. For the hell of it, he pressed the call button. It glowed.
The chrome doors opened to a surprisingly sleek interior. Dark wood made up the top half of the walls, red velvet made up the bottom half. Lights installed in the ceiling brightened the entire chamber.
An irkan screeched in a different room. Yoongi needed to make a choice.
Get in the elevator and see where it leads? Find an emergency staircase and manually search each floor?
It could open to Hell for all Yoongi knew. If Vanity lived here, it was equivalent to a house of mirrors. Then again, why would an elevator still work in this abandoned building unless she used it for a certain purpose. It could lead him right to the book. It could lead him right to her.
It was a risk only Yoongi could take.
He stepped into the elevator, pressed whatever button he felt like, and let the doors close behind him.
:::
Jimin shimmied out from under Jungkook, gripping his forehead. Jungkook let him go.
"You alright?" Jungkook asked. They climbed a spiral staircase without railing. If Jimin got too close to the edge, he'd dizzily tumble over. To prevent that, Jungkook walked on the outside closest to the edge.
"I'm fine," Jimin said.
"How many walls did you break through?"
"I lost count." Jimin snuck a peek upwards. The stairs weren't going to end any time soon. He swore under his breath.
"You're using a lot of strength," Jungkook said.
Jimin clenched his jaw. "Don't make me think about it."
"I know, I know. I'm just saying. You've done so much without using any help."
Jimin knew what he meant by help. He was simply too tired to take it as a compliment. He stayed quiet.
"You're still strong, Jimin."
"Thanks."
"Why did you suggest this staircase?"
Jimin shrugged. "It's not dirty. It's modern. Clean. Vanity must have been here."
Jungkook nodded. He would not tell Jimin about Rowan. Running into him was a game of chance. An extra condition that only added stress and fear into the equation. This bravery they found was working. He couldn't sabotage that.
"How many floors does this damn hotel have?" Jimin said.
"Seventeen," Jungkook answered.
"We're on eight. We'll waste time by walking. Let's run the rest."
"Tapping into speed drains more power. You sure you want to do that?"
Jimin smirked. "You don't have enough to make it through the night?"
Jungkook raised an eyebrow. "You do?"
Jimin shot ahead, a blur against the shadows of the stairwell. Jungkook raced to follow suit. They sprinted past the other floors. At one point, Jungkook surpassed the other angel. He halted at the top of the staircase in an archway. The next room was circular. Fashioned like a octagon with eight doors to match the eight walls. Across the way was a large, beautifully framed mirror. In between the mirror and Jungkook was a book pedestal. On it rested a leather-bound book encompassed in gold.
However, the mirror did not reflect either the pedestal or the book. Only Jungkook and his sword. That was all he saw until another person joined him, her golden eyes setting the night sky on fire.
Jimin finally reached the entrance. Ignoring the mirror completely, his eyes widened on one of the prizes.
"The book!" Jimin said. "No way! It's the book! Jungkook, we found it!"
Jungkook slowly turned.
Jimin pointed at the book pedestal that his friend stood right next to. Why wasn't Jungkook happy? They did it!
But Jungkook trained his eyes on Jimin, absolute hatred seeping into his gaze. "Do not mock me," the Assassin warned.
Jimin raised an eyebrow. "Mock you? How? Grab the book."
Jungkook's katana was aimed and ready in a flash. "If I grab it, what will happen to me? Where's Jimin?"
"I'm right here," Jimin said. He put his hands up. "Hello?"
"Vanity, what did you do with Jimin?!"
"Wait wha--," Jimin was cut short by Jungkook's surge. Seconds before the long blade pierced his chest, Jimin somersaulted out of the way and scurried to the mirror. He faced Jungkook, who crept along the perimeter of the rotunda.
"I swear on my Kings and Queen, I will destroy you if something happened to my friend."
The hairs on the back of Jimin's neck stood up. Involuntarily, the muscles in his back shuddered. He quickly frowned at the mirror behind him and moved out of the way because whatever dark energy was in that was definitely unholy.
The tunnel game. It all made sense.
DON'T LOOK IN THE MIRROR
Jungkook was the first to arrive. It was the first thing he saw. "Damnit," Jimin said.
"Afraid of me?" Jungkook said. He still crept closer. By now they had returned to their original positions.
"Afraid of you? Never." Jimin nocked an arrow, aiming it at the mirror.
Jungkook charged again, this time preparing his blade to slice Jimin in half. "I'll kill you!"
Jimin loosed the arrow. Instead of the point shredding the glass, the mirror rippled. The arrow fell to the ground like a useless twig. In time, Jimin sidestepped, but he was not fast enough. The tip of Jungkook's blade sliced into his bicep.
Jimin hissed and ducked under each swing. Jungkook tore at him relentlessly, jaw clenched in concentration. The Assassin pushed the Ripper back with each defensive maneuver, and Jimin was running out of ground.
Jungkook kicked the angel in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the edge of the staircase.
Jimin's head dangled off the edge. Craning his neck to support hisself, he panicked when Jungkook grabbed hold of his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his friend. But when the Assassin began to squeeze, it gave the angel no choice. Jimin grabbed Jungkook's neck, returning the pressure.
Regardless, if Jimin knew anything, he knew that the bodyguard fueled his strength from willpower alone. If he wanted something done, all he needed to do was set his mind to it. That included Jimin's death.
The small angel croaked as Jungkook squeezed harder.
Jimin shouted, calling on everything superhuman in his body to overpower the man on top. He shoved his fist into the crook of the bodyguard's elbow. The chokehold relaxed. Then, his right fist connected with Jungkook's jaw.
The Assassin rolled over, stunned only for a second. It was enough time for Jimin to sprint back towards the mirror. He cracked his knuckles, then slammed them into the mirror. It's vibration rocked through his body. Dizzied him from head to toe. Not a scratch on the glass.
Jungkook shouted. "Get back here!"
Jimin peered over his shoulder, eyes widening when the tip of Jungkook's sword aimed between his brow. Bending backwards, Jimin caught a glimpse of the katana crashing into the mirror. The glass cracked.
"Jungkook, look! It's breaking!"
"Shut up!" Jungkook swung wildly at nothing.
Jimin's bow and arrows were near the entrance. His hands would not last long against a sharpened sword. So, he grabbed the only thing left.
"Don't cut this," Jimin instructed, grabbing the book from the pedestal with both hands. When Jungkook positioned for another move, Jimin used the opening to swing.
The book slapped Jungkook so hard that his sword flew from his hand--flying, flying until it stabbed the mirror. Shards of glass rained to the ground like snow.
Jimin held the book to his chest, wide-eyed. Six doors disappeared from the wall. Two remained. One of them slid open.
Yoongi stood in some sort of elevator, both daggers in his hand. His black eyes locked on the book, and it's fresh line of blood. There wasn't a way to describe relief from two hundred years of hopelessness, but when he stared at that book, he forgot he was in the hotel. He forgot he was on Earth. But he noticed the man holding it, and the man that looked ready to collapse.
Jimin flicked his gaze from Yoongi to Jungkook.
Jungkook blinked himself awake. "You're not... you're not Vanity."
Yoongi stepped out of the lift not even wanting to ask what he was on about. He just wanted to hold the precious book. The First King's journal. At last. It was theirs.
"No shit," Jimin spat. "You cut me with your toothpick."
"I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know."
Yoongi connected the dots as soon as he spotted the mirror's frame. "The Mirror of Kazzan. It shows you your fears. Makes them real. No one survives that thing. The only way to stop it from working is if the victim conquers what they're so afraid of. They have to break it."
Jungkook stared at the frame.
Jimin scowled. "Where were you like thirty seconds ago?"
"The elevator," Yoongi answered.
"There was an elevator?"
Yoongi frowned at the archway and the accompanying steps. "You took the stairs?"
Jimin swallowed. Jungkook used the book pedestal to stand upright.
"I can't believe it," Yoongi said. "It's ours."
"Grey," Jungkook said, panting.
Jimin said, "She has to be close. If we have the book and Namjoon was right, this is the trophy case."
Deep laughter shook the floor. Jimin used Yoongi and Jungkook as a shield to hide the book. The other door--the door that was not the elevator--opened a sliver.
Grey's voice crashed through the silence. "GUYS, I'M HERE!"
Something nastier cut off her screams.
"My. Book," it said.
"My. Book. My. Humans."
Yoongi gripped the hilts of his daggers until his knuckles whitened. Jimin thought of place to stash the book. Jungkook shook off the rest of the illusion.
Pitch black oozed through the door's crack. A mixture of impenetrable smoke and shadow, the mass grew and grew until it rose to the broken skylight. It wrapped around the walls, it swallowed the floor. It snuffed out moonlight like it were a candle.
Darkness spread from one corner to another until Yoongi could no longer see his hands in front of his face.
The voice of nightmares laughed once more.
"Mangrith welcomes you."
:::
(A/N) Sincere reader,
I did not proofread this. It's almost 2am, you see why I must retire to bed, right?
Thank you for staying tuned <3
Next release: TENTATIVEÂ 10/3 (October 3rd)
I've got a pretty big paper to write and so I must return to the hiatus. Of course, I'll still be responding to stuff so feel free to comment or PM me! Love ya.
Also if you would have told me BTS would be addressing United Nations literally a few days ago I would not have believed you... but, well... you saw the footage. LMFAO you go Joon
With love,
M