in which best friends become enemies

Pebble woke up to Mimi knocking the door. She knocked nonstop—nonstop—until Pebble mumbled, “Come in.”

Mimi waddled in, headed to the bathroom, bathed herself, then slid on a dress. Pebble felt like a disgusting pig—just not enough to take another bath. She’d already done so last night. Whatever. She slid on her burgundy tailcoat, white pants, golden boots, then let her hair loose for the day. While Alpherson sorted out his decision, she’d go shopping and hunting for men.

“Breakfast is ready,” Mimi said. “Follow me.”

As they left the room, Mimi took Pebble’s hand—gripped it, really. While pinching her own nose, Pebble asked, “Something wrong?”

“No.”

“Ugh. People should wait until they’re grown-ups to bottle their feelings, you know. You should be crying right now.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Frell?”

Speaking of emotionally constipated adults. “He comes and goes as he pleases. I’m sure he’ll keep giving you art classes, don’t worry.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“We met earlier. He let me know that he will be taking a very long trip.”

So he wouldn’t be showing up again after all. Wise, all things considered. “Then why did you ask?”

Mimi did not reply. The worst part was that her parents were weird, so she’d grow up to be weird, too. Weirder than she already was.

At the dining table, Alphyn and Topaz sat while Alpherson acted as a waiter. Since they’d evacuated the staff yesterday, it made sense. It’d been a while since she’d eaten at a dining table—and what a horrible experience it was. Everyone. Was. So. Silent.

Under the table, she punted Topaz. He punted her back. Translation: speak. You speak.

“I hope you slept well,” Alpherson said.

“Very well,” Topaz replied. “I should move here.”

“Of course. I shall search for an available—”

“Kidding kidding kidding… maybe…” With his fingers, Topaz plucked the cherry from his pastry. The fork was right there. “I still have a house, kind of.”

“Which reminds me—I must pay you for damages.”

“You must, yeah.”

Conversation died there. Alphyn ate without once making eye contact. One step at a time, Pebble supposed. It’d be nice to visit them again with Frell wearing a horse mask or something.

Another punt. Across the table, Topaz glanced at Alpherson, then at her, then back at him. Translation: ask him if he’ll stay or not.

Pebble grimaced. Translation: later.

Fine.

Fine.

After that psychologically damaging meal—though the dumplings were delicious—Pebble announced, “I have to uhh, gather supplies. I’ll be back before sunset. We have important things to discuss.”

Topaz all but hopped beside her. “I also have to uhh, gather supplies.”

“No. Go away.”

This fell on deaf ears (was that a faux pas)?

Leaving the mansion was an esoteric experience. Despite the Saint-level duel that’d taken place yesterday, the forest had been completely restored. Botanists were in high demand due to how often the environment was wrecked after magic duels, so surely, even Alpherson couldn’t have hired one already, right?

No—it’d either been Frell or the Primordial Saintess. If the latter could bring an entire forest back to life in one night, then she was terrifying.

Topaz walked ahead in an extremely awkward way. “Are you stupid?” Pebble asked.

“Look at the ground, dumbass.”

He was following a line of broken glass from one of yesterday’s wine bottles.

So did Pebble. The trail led straight to the woods.

“Frell?” she asked. “Never mind, who am I kidding. I know you won’t reply.”

“Kinda,” Topaz said, pointing at the end of the trail, where the second sacred stone lay. “Oh look! We found the second stone! Go on, pick it up.”

As Pebble did, she heard something so entrancing that the rock fell off her fingers. Abruptly, the melody stopped. She picked it up again. The melody resumed. Experimentally now, she let it fall, and once more the beautiful sound came to a halt. Eerie.

“Very good rendition,” Alpherson said behind her, which made Pebble jump. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Topaz replied.

“Oh,” Pebble mumbled. She remembered him mentioning that he wanted to be a singer, but she hadn’t expected him to be good… very good… great at it. “I’ve heard better.”

“I know. I’m not professionally trained or anything. By the way, there’s another trail.”

There was. It led deeper into the woods. Pebble, Topaz and Alpherson followed it, perhaps as their last quest against the evil Demon King. Had Frell realized that having three sacred stones instead of one was stupid and arbitrary? Had he gotten bored?

As they made their way through the pine forest, Topaz shivered. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I think… I might’ve drunk a bit too much last night.”

“Need me to carry you?” Alpherson asked. “Though I must say that I feel a bit light-headed myself; perhaps we might’ve overexerted ourselves.”

Pebble felt it, too: a strange, dull pressure at the back of her head.

It wasn’t the first time. In fact, her first encounter with Frell had been so striking that she’d all but memorized it—the way he’d laughed, malicious and bloodthirsty as she distracted him while civilians evacuated a village. It’d been one of her very first jobs. In retrospect, he’d probably been holding back. A lot. She’d been a toy to him.

Later, as she’d gone to the medic and healers had applauded her “miraculous” stunt, the head mage had informed her that she wasn’t ill; a primordial god’s magic was that strong.

Pebble ran.

“What—” Topaz followed. “Wait! What the fuck?”

“Saint Pebble?” Alpherson trailed behind them.

“No no no no! You idiots stay behind!”

“Nope,” Frell said as she landed flat on the grass. He’d, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, tripping her with his foot.

It was suffocating.

Everything.

Hard to breathe.

“Frell,” Pebble whispered as she pushed herself up. “Don’t tell me you…”

Behind him were four iridescent wings, almost as long as he was tall. He still wore a priest’s black robes. As he lowered his collar, he confirmed that, yes, he’d broken the seal. The glee on his expression was as childlike and cruel as it was artificial. “I did, yeah. Welcome, venerable heroes, to your last trial: the Demon King himself! Topaz, you religion enthusiast. Tell me what this thing on my head represents or I’ll gouge your good eye off.”

Topaz fell to his knees, covering his mouth with his hand, coughing. With his build, he’d be the first to succumb to the primordial god’s pressure.

“Wrong!”

His divine knife clashed with Pebble’s hairpin as she rushed to parry his attack. The latter melted instantly. She’d brought no other weapons. She’d been so stupid. “What are you doing, you—!”

Frell’s kick sent her flying. As her back hit a tree, it cracked, then fell.

“Halo…” Topaz managed.

“Correct! What am I, then? I was a wolf-man with the first stone, a monster with the second, and now…?”

Topaz shook his head.

“You don’t know or you don’t want to say it?”

“God of apples,” Alpherson said. “Please. Fight it!”

“...ah, right. The god of apples died. Sorry. I’m all that’s left.”

“Fuck off,” Topaz grumbled. “Alpherson, this asshole was playing the entire time. There’s no Demon King.”

Pebble’s vision was blurry. The kick had cracked several ribs. She couldn’t breathe. How would she…?

“Alpherson gets a pass because he’s been nothing but nice to me, but you, Topaz, well…”

Pebble had to move. She had to. She couldn’t. Everything hurt. After one hit.

She pawed around the pockets of her suit. Several talismans fell to the ground. Frell saw this from the corners of his eyes, but he pretended not to. “You know what’d be funny?” he asked. “If I nailed you the way they used to. To a cross, I mean. Though if you don’t know what an angel is, you wouldn’t get that, either.”

Two, three, four healing talismans at once.

She needed a weapon.

Frell wore the crown and that strange, floating ring over his head. As Pebble finally willed herself to stand, Frell took off. His wings batting sent her crashing against the broken tree, Topaz sliding as Alpherson barely held his footing.

“Am I overdoing it?” Frell asked. “Sorry. Yeah. Maybe it’s a bit too much. Let’s try practicing.” He clapped once. Two gods popped from thin air, one on each side of him. How did Pebble know? Because they wore badges. God of Shadows and Goddess of Flowers, respectively. “There you go. If you can beat these bums, then I’ll see you again. Kill them.”

It was his turn to vanish.

The gods exchanged confused glances. “Did he…?”

“I think.”

“Was that…?”

“I think it was.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Pebble snapped. Upon taking a chunk of wood from the ground, she struck, though her shadow lifted itself to hold her arm back at the last second.

“A Saint,” noted the god of shadows. He had moppy black hair covering one eye, black lipstick, black mascara, black… one could get the idea.

Meanwhile, the goddess of flowers had an auburn ponytail and pink eyes with sparkles for pupils. “Nothing personal,” she said. “If we disobey, we’re dead. And if we die, bad things will happen. Shade, can you please make it painless?”

“I’ll try.”

An ice shard cut through the shadow. Through the shadow.

Come to think of it… how was it even visible? As if on cue, a larger shadow loomed above them: Frell. He sat on a floating throne made of wine bottles, watching the show. Above him, the sun had emerged. “I don’t like rain,” he said, tossing something beside Pebble.

The third stone.

Or… well, no. The teleporting stone.

Or both? It had glitter on it.

Pebble would’ve reached for it, but her shadow nearly sliced off her head with an imaginary blade. Alpherson was busy choking his own. Meanwhile, the goddess of flowers toyed around with Topaz. “Cutieee,” she said. “Can I keep instead of killing him? Please?”

“Sureee,” Frell replied. “Then I’ll kill you both.”

The goddess showed him her middle finger. Talk about a change of attitude.

Pebble took the stone. To what end? What could she do with this, anyway? Her magic skills were so atrocious that she’d turn herself into red mist if she tried to teleport.

The god of shadows struck a pose. The pine shadows around him turned into spikes, impaling Topaz once; the rest of them went to Alpherson, who used himself as a meat shield.

Then the trees started to beat the god of shadows up. “Traitor!” he cried out, batting them off and making battle sounds.

The goddess of flowers raised her hands to her sides. “I’m not doing anything! I promise! Someone else—KYAAA!”

She caught fire. While these two self-destructed, Pebble sprinted to Alpherson and Topaz. “That’s… Alphyn,” Alpherson wheezed. “I’ll be… fine. Tell my wife… that…”

“Shut up.” Pebble plastered a talisman on him. “Topaz, use your magic on him. Mine sucks.”

“What about me?”

Reluctantly, she gave him a healing one, too.

Frell grinned, eyes narrowed. His theatrics earlier had failed to convince her that he’d decided to turn evil, but that expression almost did. Act or not, he was having fun. He was so mind-breakingly, ridiculously powerful that none of them could hope to do anything but succumb to his whims.

Pebble glared at him. While staring back, Frell took out his divine knife, waving it around. “S-T-O-N-E,” he mouthed.

“...huh…?” Did he want her to teleport to… get a weapon? Was he stupid? Anything touching that thing would melt aside from, well… another divine weapon.

“B-A-R,” he mouthed.

“Ah,” Topaz mumbled. “Saint, gimme that. If we hold it at the same time, I can teleport the three of us. Just like… easy, please. I’m not good at this type of magic.”

Alpherson shook his head. “I shan’t abandon my manor.”

“Alpherson, don’t be a dumbass. I’m sure that your wife will manage.”

“For now. I cannot guarantee that they won’t close in on her—not unless I stay behind. Do not worry; with these healing slips, I shall keep them at bay. Besides…” he gave them a sideways glance. “Not having Topaz should also help. Elsewise I have to hold back lest collateral damage harm him.”

“I get it, I get it, I’m a weak piece of shit. Fuck off then. Let’s go, Saint. Keep the bar in mind.”

But she did not—she chose Stormy’s tomb.