Rabbit Hole

The metallic scent of blood filled his nose. It was so thick and putrid that he wondered if he would be capable of smelling flowers, or fresh pastries, or rain on the sidewalk — anything besides that horrid blood — ever again.

The source of the stench could be seen from where the young boy peered out of the closet, spreading mercilessly across the oak floor beneath the bodies of his parents. He'd never heard them so quiet. It was a silence that laid over him like a thick blanket, stifling the wicked laughter and sounds of greedily stuffed bags beyond the closet door.

The hands of time remained as rigid as his own body was, for a span that ironically seemed to stretch into eternity…

“Can you remember anything…? Marion…

Marion!”

He suddenly felt himself gasping for air, so hard that it hurt his lungs. No longer a small boy petrified in a broom closet, he was instead a young man sitting on a very soft sofa in a disgustingly beige room. Across from him, on an identical sofa, sat a middle-aged woman with wavy red hair holding a clipboard. She was gazing at him with a mixture of concern and expectancy on her face.

“Uhm… It's Marnie…”

“I'm sorry?” The woman replied ignorantly.

“My name,” he spoke a bit more clearly as he readjusted to his real surroundings. “I've told you before to call me Marnie. I…like it a lot better. My parents always used to call me Marion.”

“Oh… Oh!” The concern on the woman's face morphed into panicked guilt. “Oh, right! I'm so sorry, Marnie, I'm such a scatterbrain sometimes. I'll remember it, I promise!”

“It's alright, Ms. June,” Marnie reassured his therapist, as if this wasn't the umpteenth time they'd had the very same conversation. “Sorry, I… I must have gotten lost in thought again. What were you asking me?”

The panic melted from Ms. June Berry’s face, replaced with a warm smile. Sometimes Marnie wondered if those kind smiles she wore were as fake as his own, although that usually led to the realization of how painfully two-dimensional she was.

“I was just asking if you could remember anything from…that day,” June answered. “Anything new, of course. You were trying to remember, but then you just went so quiet—”

“Right. No, sorry to disappoint,” Marnie had been used to repressing the disdain in his voice by now. “I know everyone’s been hoping I'd remember those burglars’ faces or something by now, but nothing new shows up, no matter how many times I try to remember. Can we talk about something else instead?”

June nodded, adjusting her position on the sofa by uncrossing and recrossing her legs.

“Sure, Marnie. Why don't you tell me how your new job is going? I know you worked really hard in university to get a position at that firm.”

“It's going well,” Marnie mused his answer as if it was rehearsed, devoid of any real emotion. “The senior accountants are treating me well, but it's mostly busy work.”

“And you're eating properly.”

“Mhm.”

“Exercising regularly?”

“Bought a gym membership.”

“Alright. What about hobbies, or friends?”

Marnie paused, twirling one of the curls of his strawberry blonde hair around his finger. He didn't know how to answer that question, no matter how many times June asked it.

“I've just… Well, I've been busy,” he awkwardly made up an excuse, trying to ignore the scratching of June's pen. “You know, with graduation… and then the new job…”

“I see,” June punctuated her written judgement with a piercing finality. “Well, we all get in ruts sometimes. I just hope you take the time to indulge in some fun every once in a while. You know, I've been worried about your…inability to open up. You really seem to struggle with expressing yourself and letting others in. When you get the chance to, please at least try to make a few friends.”

Marnie gave a half-hearted agreement, convincing enough that the ever-perky Ms. June closed their therapy session with a smile instead of a motherly lecture. Not wanting to linger in case that changed, he slipped into the lobby as quickly and casually as possible.

“...this flood of new arrests comes as lawmakers continue to debate the legalization of RabbitHole, weighing the potential risks to the public against mass reports of benefits for individuals struggling with mental illness and personality disorders.—”

The receptionist hastily shut off the newscast she was watching before Marnie approached. He didn't think much of it, signing his sign-out form with the same meaningless pleasantries he always did. In a matter of moments, he was floating out of the building and down the street, his thoughts drifting to the fact that the rest of his day was completely free.

Marnie couldn't help but feel like his therapy sessions were a waste of money. Not that he much cared about throwing money away, but if he had to do that he'd rather be throwing it at charities or the needy, instead of wasting it to keep up appearances. After all, that's what wealthy children who witnessed their parents’ murder do to become functional members of society.

What a disgusting concept… Marnie had always thought. What did it even mean to be a functional member of society? It felt like a senseless classification, only serving as an excuse to demean those who didn't fit its parameters. If Marnie shared anything more than freckles with his therapist, he'd surely be one of those misfits.

No matter how many sessions he had, or how many therapists he went through over the years, nothing changed. Marnie would always be a mediocre mannequin, faceless and blank, awaiting the costumes his peers designated for him.

With a life like that, how could he even be considered real…?

Drop!

A cold drop of rain landed squarely on Marnie's nose, scattering his thoughts as if they were minnows amidst the lake of his mind. Taking in his surroundings, he realized that he was in an unfamiliar part of the city. A darker, seedy-looking part that he must have wandered into while lost in thought.

“Crap, I must have done it again…” Marnie grumbled to himself. Daydreaming and listless contemplation were possibly the closest things to hobbies he had. “Where did I even end up this time?”

The troubled youth looked around, ignoring the dark clouds grouping overhead and the periodic raindrops pelting his arms and shoulders. Many of the buildings seemed like they couldn't decide between being safety hazards or apartment complexes, and the ones that were decisive had apparently landed on an existence as cluttered hole-in-the-walls. Passersby all kept to themselves or their small groups, and if any had caught sight of Marnie they grimaced at him with wariness and hostility.

Feeling remarkably out of place, he turned away from the streets to find himself before a particularly unusual shop. It looked weathered, yet somehow cozy, emitting all manner of earthy smells from its very cracks and crevices. The hand-painted sign hanging above the door read “The Badlands” in a whimsical font.

“What is this place? Some kind of smoke shop?”

Marnie wondered aloud. His shoulders were starting to get noticeably damp, so he couldn't help from wondering if smoke shops made for comfortable shelters from the weather.

“Actually, it's an apothecary.”

The sudden voice beside him made Marnie jump, no matter how friendly it sounded. He whipped around towards the voice only to be faced with a taller man and a kind smile.

“Ah, sorry. Did I frighten you?” The man continued. “I tend to get a little carried away about my line of work. Hearing it reduced to something as trivial as a smoke shop is a grave insult to my pride.”

“Oh… Sorry, I didn't mean it as an offense…” Marnie awkwardly tried to apologize. The man before him looked about as earthy as his business smelled, both eccentrically dressed and elegantly fair. Something about his messy mop of light brown hair — sporting pink highlights and partially tied with hair-sticks — felt so truly unique to Marnie that it was almost breathtaking. Especially when paired with his soft, mesmerizing green eyes.

Marnie had never met anyone who looked so free. So themself.

“Ah, none taken,” the man reassured him. “Were you looking to come inside? I was just getting back from lunch.”

“Oh! N-no, actually, I… Well, I didn't mean to be—”

Marnie's stammering words became drowned by a low rumbling and the torrential downpour that followed. As the sky emptied itself upon them, the apothecary owner didn't wait for an answer, instead hurrying to unlock the door and let them inside.

Against his better judgement, Marnie entered The Badlands.

Marnie was a little surprised to see that the interior of The Badlands was so cozy. The dim light glowing off of the warm wood furniture gave the place a relaxing atmosphere, especially with the thick scent of incense permeating the air. Everywhere Marnie looked there were cases and shelves full of books, bottles of tinctures and medicines, dried herbs, and glasswork.

“Huh… It's like something out of an old English novel,” he remarked, trying to pat the water out of his drenched hair.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” the owner replied cheerfully, closing the door behind them. “It doesn't look like the rain is going to stop any time soon, unfortunately. Since we'll probably be here a while, let me introduce myself. I'm Kaede; it's a pleasure to meet you.”

He offered a hand and a smile to Marnie, who seemed almost startled by the outward friendliness. It was like watching a rabbit decide whether or not it should accept food from the hand of a kind human. Marnie chose to accept, gingerly shaking Kaede's hand.

“Uhm, Marnie,” he introduced himself clumsily. “It’s very… nice… to meet you as well. Thank you for letting me shelter here for a bit.”

“Ah, don't mention it,” Kaede immediately began rummaging around behind the sales counter as he spoke. “Bear with me a moment, I'll brew something to warm us up—”

A loud clattering interrupted him from the cupboard that his hands were fumbling in.

“—crap. Er, in the meantime, you can have a seat in the lounge.”

“Right…”

Marnie turned away from the beautiful mess of a man to face the rest of the apothecary. There was a small and nearly hidden corridor that led away from the sales room, which he supposed was the entrance to the lounge.

The corridor didn't have its own source of light, leaving Marnie to navigate through strange shapes and shadows cast by the light behind him that bathed its eccentric decor. It was an almost unnerving experience, albeit short lived. After only a few paces, Marnie had emerged into an emerald green room with no windows.

The lounge held a rather comfortable looking wine-colored sofa, sat before an oak coffee table along with a matching armchair. Across from the sofa, on the other side of the table, was a matching lounge chair adorned with various eclectic pillows and a throw blanket. The rest of the room was adorned with books, potted plants, candles, and antique lamps and cabinets, all contributing to an overall comfortable and relaxing atmosphere.

Marnie felt his guard drop as soon as he entered this room. Since he'd always wondered what sitting on a lounge chair felt like, he chose to make himself at home there, nestled beside the velvet throw and a pillow embroidered with moonflowers. It was surprisingly cozy.

“Wow… This is nothing like the smoke shop lounges they show on TV…” Marnie remarked, looking around the room with a sort of calm excitement. On the coffee table he noticed a few scattered reading materials, including a botany encyclopedia, a couple conspiracy magazines, and a short collection of Arthurian legends.

“Here we are! I hope you didn't wait too long.”

Kaede entered the room holding a tea tray, the scent of incense wafting in behind him. He set the tray down and sat on the sofa across from Marnie, giving the troubled youth a friendly smile.

“I thought some lemon-ginger tea would help lift our spirits in this damp weather,” he said. “Go ahead and try it with some honey.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Marnie instinctively did as he was told, taking one of the teacups and preparing it with the etiquette of an upperclassman. His actions were like the second nature of a trained dog, a notion which made Kaede chuckle.

“You really aren't from this side of town, are you?” He questioned coyly. Marnie immediately sputtered when the hot tea hit his lips, caught off guard by both its strong zing and the astute observation.

“Er, no, I'm not,” Marnie attempted to answer, accepting the napkin Kaede offered him. “I was actually walking home from my therapist’s office and got lost daydreaming.”

“My, a therapist? They must not be doing their job right if you felt the need to daydream right out of the office.”

“Haha, well I can't say we made any progress.”

Marnie didn't normally open up to others so casually like this, but for some reason he felt entirely at ease. The warm tea chased the chill from his bones, and Kaede's friendly smile felt almost comforting.

“Forgive me if I sound presumptuous,” the shopkeeper began after drinking his tea. “But, if that therapist of yours doesn't seem to be getting anywhere, I might have a medicine that can help.”

“A medicine?” Marnie asked skeptically. “Do smoke shops sell medicine now?”

“Apothecary,” Kaede corrected him again. “Which are quite famously known for providing medicine. Tell me, have you ever heard of the drug RabbitHole?”

The familiar name suddenly piqued Marnie's interest.

“Yeah, I've heard of it. Why do you ask?”

“I happen to provide it here,” Kaede's face lit up with excitement. “In fact, many of my clients say that it helps improve their mental health far better than any other treatment they've received. I'm really proud of how much it's helping them.”

“It's always great being able to help people,” Marnie smirked slyly. “But isn't RabbitHole illegal?”

“Cannabis and LSD used to be illegal in America, too,” Kaede returned the cheek. “But now they're being used as specialized treatments, just as I'm sure RabbitHole will be one day soon. Never forget, Marnie, challenging the rules is how progress is made.”

Something about that notion struck a cord in Marnie. Something he couldn't place; something he didn't even know existed within himself until he felt it reverberate through his very being. In the midst of the resonance, curiosity took the reins.

“Then… What's it like?”

Kaede made a face as if he was pondering how to answer that question. A few times he even opened his mouth as if to say something, then waved dismissively or shook his head. Finally, he settled on simply not explaining at all, instead rummaging around in his pocket.

“Here,” Kaede answered at last as he retrieved a small bottle from his pocket, pulled its cork, and shook something into his palm. “It really is an experience that can't be explained. If you're truly that interested, I'll give you a dose for free. Then you can see for yourself.”

He then presented Marnie with a small, white pill. It looked plain and innocent — harmless. Could something so insignificant even be dangerous? Could it even be medicine?

Before he knew it, Marnie had convinced himself that the potential benefit outweighed the potential consequences.

In just as much time, he was taking the pill from Kaede's hand.

“Guess I've got nothing to lose…”

As soon as the RabbitHole touched it, Marnie felt an intensely sweet and almost chalky taste melt into his tongue. It lingered vaguely, even as the lemon-ginger tea washed the medicine down his throat.

But aside from that, nothing extraordinary happened.

“I…don't feel anything,” said Marnie, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Give it a moment,” Kaede reassured him, sipping his tea. “Just relax and let it work its magic.”

“Right…”

Nearly convinced that the drug was no more than a placebo, Marnie leaned back into the pillows on the lounge chair and tried to relax. He was prepared for a whole lot of nothing to happen, besides some more light conversation as they listened to the rain.

Then, all at once, the world fell away beneath him.

Instead of being supported by soft cushions, Marnie suddenly felt as if he was tilted backwards. His surroundings were pitch black — no apothecary, no lounge, no Kaede. Nothing but a complete void and the sensation of free-falling down a dark tunnel.

After a panicked and disorienting few moments, Marnie landed somewhere with a thud.

Marnie was surprised that after such a hectic fall he somehow landed on his feet. However, that wasn't as surprising as the scenery which greeted him.

He appeared to be in the middle of a strange forest. A dense, sweet-smelling fog obscured the forest floor from view, and the trees that rose above it were oddly colored with periwinkle bark and soft pink leaves. When his cobalt gaze followed the trees into the dawn-colored sky, he found it painted in stars and galaxies as if it were nighttime.

“What…?” Marnie wondered aloud in awe. “Where… Where am I…?”

“Oho~ You must be a human.”

The unexpected voice made Marnie yelp and jump. As he looked about wildly for the source of it, a long tail as black as shadow unfurled from one of the tree branches and brushed his shoulder. Although he flinched at the touch, it also drew his attention to the tail’s owner — a lithe young man lounging upon the tree branch, with matching black hair and snow-white skin. Most peculiarly, despite the cat-like tail there were black rabbit ears upon his head, and even further despite those he wore a white rabbit mask on his crown.

“I-I’m sorry?!” Marnie didn't know how else to respond to such a sight. Indifferent to his confusion, the man sighed and stretched before sitting up, much like a particularly lazy cat. When he opened his eyes it revealed a burning crimson gaze, and for a moment Marnie wondered if he was more of a man-like creature than a man.

“Only humans ask complicated questions and expect simple answers,” he descended from the branch, landing gracefully on his feet. “That, and you fell from the window in the sky.”

“Window in… the sky…” Marnie whipped around to peer at the sky directly above him. Sure enough, there really was a circular window hanging there as if it belonged just as much as the sun or moon did. It looked exactly like an ordinary household window, however beyond it was nothing but a black abyss, much like the one Marnie was thrust into after taking the RabbitHole.

“I see…” he pried himself from one perplexity to another, turning back to his unwanted company. “Then, are you implying that you're not human?”

For a moment, the creature pondered the question. Then, he grinned.

“I'm Chez, and you've landed on the Other Side.”

“The Other Side..?” Marnie mused. He wanted to ask “the other side of what?” but that felt like one of those questions he couldn't get a simple answer to. Instead, he kept quiet and let what he already said elicit Chez into elaborating — a manipulative defense mechanism the daydreamer was all too accustomed to.

“Yeah… That's probably the best thing to call it,” Unfortunately, Chez remained cryptic. “It's a place where fantasy can be lived.”

“Fantasy, huh… Is that what you are, Shay?”

Marnie's inquiry, punctuated with his awkward mispronunciation of French, garnered nothing but a sickeningly sweet smile from the creature before him. Like the smile one gives in the face of an underhanded insult. Then, he slid the rabbit mask from his crown over his face, turned around, and began walking off without a word.

“Huh?! Wait! Shay!”

“If you don't believe me, then just take a walk. You'll see soon enough.”

The crippling feeling of being lost and alone quickly encroached as Chez’s back began to fade in the fog. Suffocating under the pressure, Marnie decided to chase after Chez before he entirely disappeared.

“Take a walk?” Marnie inquired a bit breathlessly, catching up to the masked man. “What does that even mean? There's… Well, there's nothing but trees! What if we get lost? How will I get back to the window?”

Chez shot Marnie a sidelong look out of the holes in his mask. His crimson eyes were so unnerving, and his gaze so striking, that it halted any other attempts Marnie made at speaking.

“Wait and see,” he looked away again, continuing their trek. “If you stop asking so many questions, you might end up finding some answers.”

Marnie had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he obediently strolled beside Chez nonetheless. For what felt like a while, nothing in their surroundings changed. Nothing but the same whimsical trees and eerie fog, enticing Marnie's mind to wander.

The first changes he noticed were sounds, rising up out of the fog ahead. At first the noises were soft and distant, but soon they became crisp and clear. They were the sounds of swords clashing, men grunting, and onlookers cheering. Just as Marnie began to ponder the sounds, buildings began to rise up through the fog as well.

They were archaic yet cozy cottages and shacks, the sort that you would see in a medieval fairytale. Before he knew it, Marnie was walking among a small village, the fog and trees of the forest clinging to its outskirts. The few villagers present were gathered around a fenced off, dirt arena, where two cartoonish knights exchanged blows.

“It’s like I walked into a storybook…” Marnie breathed, trying to process the miraculous sight before him.

“Wow, impressive,” Chez remarked absently. “They've even got chickens pecking around.”

“Why is there a place like this here?”

Marnie’s question was met with nothing but a shrug and an annoyed flick of Chez's tail. Of course — he should learn not to expect any straight answers in this place.

“Sir!” A group of more cartoonish knights, their faces obscured by helmets and their banners nondescript, suddenly rushed towards the pair of onlookers. They wore armour, as any good knight would, yet something about it felt uncanny. It was very shiny, very ergonomic, as if they were born into it like skin; drawn to life wearing it.

“Sir Marnie of Worick!”

“H-huh?!” Marnie recoiled as the head knight clapped hands onto his shoulders. The strange use of his full name was hard enough to process, but the sudden and intense grasp only made matters worse.

“Thank God we've found you,” the head knight continued, apparently unconcerned with Marnie's alarm. “Our Lord sent us for you. Please help us, you're the only one who can slay the dragon and save the village!”

“I… What?!” Marnie's panic and confusion only increased. “Sorry, no, I-I think you're probably mistaken. There's no way I could slay a dragon—”

Chez chuckled beside Marnie, interrupting his stream of denial.

“You still don't get it,” the creature slid his rabbit mask aside just enough to peer at Marnie better with his sly smile. “Stop fighting it, Marnie. Just move forward and enjoy.”

They were simple words, ones that Marnie was almost certain were intended to be mocking, yet they felt more therapeutic than anything his therapist had said in the past decade. He felt some part of himself slip away, like an iceberg breaking away from its polar cap and drifting away through the ocean. A large, frigid chunk of restraint melting away into nothingness.

“...Okay. Take me to the dragon.”

The strange knights lead Marnie out of the tiny village, Chez following along curiously. The farther away they walked, the more the village became completely obscured by the Other Side’s fog, as if it never even existed there in the first place.

Marnie was being marched along what appeared to be a mountain pass, however when exactly the vast forest had its whimsical trees replaced with sloping hills and a rocky path was hard for him to recall. The scenery in his peripheral vision kept shifting and going out of focus. It was a disorienting phenomenon, one which forced him to focus on what was right in front of him instead of what was around him.

Marnie couldn't help but think this feeling was oddly familiar, but he couldn't really place why.

“We're truly lucky to have found you, Sir Marnie,” the knight in front of him suddenly spoke. “If we don't stop it now, this monster will surely kill many people. Our weapons have no effect on it.”

“Well, if your swords are as sharp as your wit, then that's not surprising,” Chez chided with a chuckle.

“Shay!” Marnie scolded him the way one would scold a misbehaving cat. “What’s wrong with you? You can't just say things like that!”

“Can't I?” Chez pointed ahead, where the entire troop of knights had turned to stare at Marnie as they walked. It was unsettling, being judged by faceless forces in uncanny synchrony, enough to send a chill down his spine.

“Sir?” One of them questioned, though it was uncertain which one. Their voices didn't stand out much from one to the other. “Are you feeling well?”

“Ah… Uhm…” Marnie stumbled over his words, but it didn't seem to matter. Before he could answer, the knights apparently decided it was unimportant, turning their faces forward as they matched once more.

“That was… odd…”

He tried to shake off his confusion and turned back to Chez.

“Well, even if they don't seem to care, that's still not right to say. You were rude!”

Chez chortled.

“Seriously, what does any of that matter here? Don't tell me you've never wanted to be rude to people,” he pulled his rabbit mask fully aside once more to look at Marnie, his visage more breathtaking than the daydreamer remembered. “You should give it a try. It's wonderfully freeing.”

Wanting to be rude… What a strange concept. Marnie's first instinct was to deny it, however something tugged the words back into his throat. Surely he'd wanted to be rude to others before — it's a natural human instinct. Maybe… when his father called him a name… Or when his classmates spoke thinly veiled insults to his face… Or whenever June Berry plastered a motherly smile across her face as she pretended to understand him.

The thoughts ignited something within Marnie. A primal desire he'd never even noticed before that moment, one which bore its ugly fangs and struck out.

“Right…” Marnie started tentatively. “I guess you'd know better than a bunch of… freaks like these. I'd hate to see whoever this lot was cloned from, though; he's probably the epitome of useless.”

The strike was a bit off key, but it was a start. Chez chuckled at the awkward insult, and for a moment Marnie even got nervous as the knights stopped and looked at each other. However, instead of retorting like the strawberry-blonde had expected, they merely laughed in unison. It was a hearty, almost ignorantly amused laugh — nothing like Chez's mocking one — which only served to bewilder him more.

“Sir Marnie, now is no time for jests,” one of them said as their laughter died down. He ushered Marnie to follow them once again as the others began to continue their march. “We're nearly to the dragon's lair. Stay sharp!”

As if on cue, the passage ahead opened into a clearing. The fog seemed to drift out of their view like a curtain, revealing a large cave carved into the mountainside within the clearing.

Chez whistled.

“Predictable,” he commented with boredom. “Who dreamed this up, a five-year-old?”

“Maybe that means this dragon won't be too tough,” Marnie hoped, squirming a little. Unfortunately for him, what emerged from the cave was not as cartoonish as the knights who led him there. Instead it was fantastical, large, and intimidating.

First into view was its great maul of sharp fangs, like rows of scythes twisted into an ugly snarl beneath flared nostrils. What followed was a mane of pristine, yet jagged, jet-black scales, and a blue gaze that struck stone-cold fear into Marnie's very soul.

Marnie froze in place, suffixed in a familiar horror as he watched the beast crawl from its den. Nothing felt capable of swaying him from the sensation, not even the cheers of encouragement from the quirky knights. Not even the curious crimson gaze of Chez boring into him.

“N-no…” Marnie muttered in a voice as small as a mouse. It felt hard for him to breathe, as if his lungs were trying to shrink. As if he was trying to shrink into insignificance.

“It can't be… D… Dad..?”

“Sir Marnie, get a hold of yourself!” One of the knights shouted. “The Beast of Worick is about to attack!”

Thoughts rose and dissipated endlessly in Marnie's mind, but none of them existed for long enough to command his body. All he could do was watch as the dragon reared back and opened its jowls. The knights gave up on him and ran for cover, and even Chez evaded as a ferocious inferno sprung forth from the dragon’s depths, rocketing towards them.

Trapped in his horrific permanence, Marnie was engulfed in flame. It enveloped every inch of his body, consuming him entirely.

The shock of it all finally kickstarted Marnie's brain back to life, but it was already too late. He cowered and screamed a terrible scream, consumed with the thought of his flesh cooking and his muscles contorting until they crushed his bones.

Yet, somehow, none of that happened.

Slowly, Marnie realized that his body wasn't burning. His clothes were intact, his skin was pristine. Every freckle, manicured nail, and strawberry-blonde curl was left exactly as it had been. Instead of burning him, the flames merely clung to his body like a sheath.

As he struggled to catch his breath and calm his nerves, Marnie held his hand up and watched the harmless flames lap at his fingers. They flirted with his skin, like flirting with death, mesmerizingly contrary. Suddenly, rising from the depths of his mind, a voice said now's your chance.

The dragon roared at Marnie, commanding his attention. It was a behavior he despised, something that pressured all manner of rage to pool at his core. This time, when their blue eyes locked, instinct took over instead of fear. When the dragon reared back for a second attack, Marnie released the culmination of his rage and screamed something he'd always dreamed of screaming.

“FUCK YOU!!!”

The fire which enveloped Marnie burst towards the dragon with far more intensity than when it had previously left the beast's mouth. Amazingly, where it was completely harmless to Marnie, to the dragon the blaze was a searing kryptonite. Completely consumed by the flames, it shrieked and thrashed and roared. In a matter of moments, the dragon was reduced to nothing but cinders and ash.

“It's… it's dead!”

“Huzzah! Sir Marnie, our savior!”

At first, Marnie could barely believe what had happened. But as the praise of the knights reached his ears, the realization of his victory crept into his bones. It filled every fiber of his being with exhilaration — more than he'd felt in his entire life.

“Impressive,” Chez sauntered up to Marnie with a smirk. It wasn't his usual sly smirk, however. Instead, it almost seemed…proud. “You're quite the little hero. Congrats on standing up for yourself.”

Basking in Chez’s warm gaze, like the embers of a hearth, Marnie beamed back at him. The daydreamer suddenly felt truly alive for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Then the fog of the Other Side crept into his view. Before he knew it, the fog had completely obscured Marnie's vision before fading into oblivion…