"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that I don't have anything your size." Midas looks through her enormous walk-in closet, not all that attentive.

She is coming down from her high, processing what happened. Why did this otherworldly creature not throw those knives back at her when they had the chance?

Instead they are there, patiently waiting for her on the door, shoulders hunched over.

"Ugh, I'd kill for a nightgown."

She freezes for a second, then turns slowly to face them. After that all they could think of was a nightgown?

"How could you even think I got one your size? You're ridiculously tall."

They shrug, arms crossed tightly over their chest, their long black tentacles fall on their face. "I just want to be comfortable."

She finally gets out and closes the door behind her, locking it. "Sorry if my wardrobe isn't tailored to your tragic existence. Okay, no luck. Guess you'll have to stay in those— whatever's left of your clothes"

Dubhra gives her a tired smile. "Oh, these aren't exactly mine, when I materialized here I was completely naked, so I had to uhm—" The prosthetic hands begin lightly gesticulating, "I had to make do with what I had."

Midas shakes her head. "So, what exactly would you be?"

"I'm a creature."

"Yeah, you said that already, but what kind of creature are you?"

Dubhra snaps their fingers and lightly blows on the index finger with their breath of fire, lighting up a little flickering flame. "I can create and control fire."

Taking some steps past the coat rack behind them, their hand accidentally brushes against a foulard. Within seconds, the smell of burnt fabric reaches her nose.

"Move!" She pushes them to the side, grabs the burning piece of fabric and rushes to the sink. Frantically, she shoves it under the running water, steam hissing as the fire dies out.

Behind her, Dubhra raises their hands in surrender, a sorry expression on their face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to… I'm extremely sleep deprived."

"You didn't mean to? You're literally a walking fire hazard!" She gives a second glance to the burned scarf, passing her hand where it's been carbonized.

"Let's say that I can create fire, leaving out the 'being able to control it' part, at least until I had at least ten hours of sleep. But fire isn't all there is."

Midas goes back to look at them again, piercing eyes staring as if she is trying to solve a way too complicated riddle. "Then what?"

"I was crafted out of fire, ink and ash, that’s all I know."

"That sounds like something straight out of a book."

"Yes, well— it's not as epic as it sounds. It means that I burn things and it’s all that counts, I leave stains that I can't wash away nor scrub out. And after all this what's left is just dust."

Something flashes again in Midas' eyes, that creature's words are weirdly familiar, like something she can relate to. But any feeling is so foreign to her now, leaving her wondering.

Like she can't fathom it, can barely stand it. "That sounds very heartbreaking,” her tone is flat. “But I will try to do some damage control here." Then, she takes a couple steps in Dubhra's direction. "You want to spend the night here, right?"

The creature gives her their biggest and most honest smile, the piercings right below their bottom lip stretching out slightly. "I was hoping you would be so kind to let me."

Midas points at the copper bathtub right across the room. "Then you'll be sleeping there."

Dubhra looks at it, then back at her, confused. "In the bathtub?"

She shrugs. "There's a lot of wood in this house, I sure hope nothing will randomly catch on fire, so…"

They are too tall to properly fit in there, that's for sure.

Pleading eyes look back at her. "Is it because I accidentally set that piece of fabric on fire? I told you I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't fix my house once it has been burned down, so, if you want to stay, this is my condition."

Dubhra sighs in resignation, they are too tired to try and reply so they just go sit on the edge of the tub.

The melancholy in their eyes once again seems to stir something within Midas' heart, while her brain just says make it stop, make it stop. "Wait here."

She leaves them alone for a brief moment only to walk back into the bathroom with a pillow under her arm. "Here, I'm not sure you need it but at least if this catches on fire it won't be that much of a loss." Then she throws it for them to grab.

Dubhra promptly catches it with their tentacles. "If anything happens I'll try my best to fix it, I don't know much about how it works here"

Their gaze shifts to the faucet, twisting and turning it, until water starts pouring. "I don't know anything about this world."

Midas walks close enough for Dubhra to look up at her. She extends her arm and turns off the faucet.

"Then you're lucky." Her absent eyes drift for a moment, scanning the creature from top to bottom. "There's no one that knows how this world works better than me."

They want to reply, to ask how could it be possible when she has always lived so far from any form of life. But they barely have time to think of it before she disappears from their sight.

Anguish claws at their core as they realize they truly don’t know this version of Midas and the mere thought of it hits them like a cold blade, sharp, deeply unsettling.

Dubhra is alone, she has closed the bathroom door and now they are in the dark, only with the dim light of the moon as their company.

They slip carefully into what would be their bed for the night, if it can be called as such, squeezing awkwardly as they try to make themselves comfortable. The copper is cold against their back and the pillow Midas has tossed barely softens the hard curve of the tub. Their legs stretch out, too long for the cramped space and their prosthetics hang awkwardly over the edge, the cold metal scratching the floor.

The weight of exhaustion presses heavy on their chest. The pillow smells faintly of her and that alone seems to knot their thoughts even tighter. It has always been like that, her cold and distant way of offering comfort.

But this isn’t the person they’d always known, so they can’t help but wonder if this version of Midas had just grabbed the nearest pillow without thinking.

Dubhra exhales slowly, closing their eyes.

It’s hardly big enough to fit them, yet somehow, that narrow space feels safer than anywhere else.

They had grown used to feeling slightly out of place, but this... this was different.

They turn their gaze to the ceiling, swallowing hard, thick black saliva running down their throat.

They couldn't seem to think of anything else but the last thing they saw before ending up here.

The betrayal in her eyes, the last hug that had been more of a goodbye than a sign of affection.

She didn’t end up in this place with them, so where was she?

It's all my fault.

I was burning. My whole body felt like it was tearing itself apart, I couldn't breathe.

The ritual failed, I failed.

She has probably died in that place, or is lost, trapped and alone. And I didn’t even fulfill the purpose to my bond for some reason, I just ended up here.

But how come they ended up there? The curse could only unfold if they were to be together, so why had Dubhra been sent to this dimension, a place where she could survive because they had never existed?

It’s clear as day that they’re a stranger to her here, but she’s not to them, not even in this world. So they’d still stick around, she would understand, her heart would.

A part of them wants to feel like they could go back, find a way. But the Empress’ hateful eyes are still fixed on them and their divided heart can’t help the urge to run, to flee.

They know it’s not completely her fault. And yet, that coldness for all those years left them arid, aching and now, in that bathtub, they can finally breathe, have a chance to lick their wounds in neutral ground, even if they still bleed.

They have failed so miserably. Why was she so determined to fight a battle she could have never won?

How could she have put them in a corner? Somewhere forgotten, as if they didn’t matter at all, as if they haven’t always been the one to hold her fears on their shoulders, her dreams safely curled inside their heart.

And maybe they do want another chance, because they feel starved. Starved of affection, of touch, of meaning.

Of love.

That's how they always dreamed to be: devoured, consumed by love.

That huge void in their chest, that hole, it feels as deep as ever.

They stand on the edge, not wanting to look at the bottom. Now it’s there, pressing at their temples, marking its presence clear like it never did before.

It’s calling.

Their eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy and they drift off to sleep.