row runs.
Without a second thought. Without any thoughts at all. It is instinct to run now. From monsters in dungeons, through forests late at night, skidding along icy plains, away from the sparkly black pockets of stars that had constantly threatened to engulf it, or towards them in a few instances.
Long story short, Krow had been doing a whole lot of running lately.
Now you may be thinking, "that's great! It must be fast if it has practice."
What it really means is that it's tired. Even if it wasn't. Even if it were rejuvenated and full of energy, great speed doesn't matter much against a skilled enough hunter.
Owen follows suit. Calm. Collected. In no rush whatsoever. Trailing Krow as though this were an early morning jog and not the final nail in the coffin of his murder spree. The echoing of footsteps makes it easy to keep track of the demon anyways. There's no need to come out of this exhausted.
The chase is unnervingly quiet, not what you'd expect from something this intense. Not what a chase this intense deserves. There's no crescendo of music. Just footsteps, breathing, and a faint buzzing.
The halls rush by Krow in a messy blur. Black, grey, and the occasional flicker of a torch. Its legs are burning with exertion. Turning hallway, after hallway, after hallway. Sporadically, inconsistently. The kinds of turns people make when they are trying to get lost. Or trying to lose someone else.
Turn after turn
Question after question bounces around in Krow's head, some questions, not even its own.
Why is Owen trying to kill me?
Was running a good idea?
How do I get out of this situation?
The voices mumble quietly about their own thoughts and theories, but Krow tunes them out...
Turn, after turn, after turn.
Until there is nowhere else to turn
A dead end.
Out of all the times to reach a dead end it had to be now!
It starts to turn around and look for another way because there just has to be another way but quickly finds that it's too late to backtrack because Owen is there. Once steely brown eyes appear piercing orange in the wilting torchlight. Sharp and dangerous as the sword he's holding.
There's the telltale swish of metal cutting through the air as the weapon is pressed to Krow's throat.
"Y'know" Owen drawls as he advances, and the torch, on its last legs, finally flickers out, leaving the both of them in blackness. "Memory loss hasn't changed you much. First deranged animal. Now cornered prey."
"Why are you doing this- I'm so confused I-" Krow starts, intending to go a ramble about how it'll be leaving soon anyways, but Owen doesn't intend to let anything happen that wasn't carefully premeditated. This sword draws a thin red line of blood across its neck.
"Pick your last words, very carefully, demon."
And not for the first time, Krow wonders if something with no soul can actually die.
It thinks about all the things it didn't do. All those things on the to-do list that it will never get to do.
Krow opens its mouth to speak, but hasn't a single last word to say. Nothing long and speechy and inspirational at least. All the combinations of letters and syllables it comes up with, are some variation of "Goodbye" or "sorry."
Brooke is still a drunk. Olive is still overworking themselves into the grave. It didn't get help Sky get used to the outside world, or help Nyx step outside of their house. Draxy is still missing his sister. I'll never get to see Blaise or Freda again... And Lav-
Wait. Lav.
Where's Lav?
Its eyes frantically dart around for a flicker of something, anything, that's not supposed to be there.
There is nothing.
For the first time in a long time, Lav is completely hidden away.
It strains for a voice, laughter, breathing, anything!
Nothing.
"LAV" It yells, much to Owen's confusion.
Nothing.
Thus, Krow makes an attempt at fighting, swinging its backpack off of its shoulder and careening it in a wide arc, in Owen's direction. This does little more than distract him for a second, but Krow keeps going, swooping up a spent torch and using it as a blunt-force weapon.
I've seen Nyx fight before, it can't be that difficult to copy their form from memory, it thinks.
It thinks wrong.
"You may have had some potential as a fighter before, but you've definitely regressed." Owen sneers, expertly sidestepping Krow's attacks.
He takes its attempted ambush as a substitute for a final statement, readily, plunging his sword into its chest. Exactly where a heart would be if it had one.
Krow collapses. Black dots start to cloud its vision. Ebbing and flowing, dancing and swaying. Everything is blurry and red. It gasps for air, a soupy breath that's way too hard to choke down. Air that tastes like iron.
It can hear Owen monologuing above it, but the voice is muffled and far away. Something about diseases and cures. Something else about twistedness.
But as the black starts to shroud its vision, a speck of white stands out against everything else. Owen doesn't see it, but Krow does. It's tuned to seeing the little things. You have to be when you have a friend who can shapeshift.
Lav was a bat the last time Krow saw him, but it's never seen a firefly other than Lav in the dark maze.
It's funny how people describe a beacon of hope as a large, blinding, powerful stream of luminescence, while Krow's beacon was barely the size of a fingernail.
To be fair Lav didn't stay that small for long. One second he was a firefly, the next he is a bear, towering over Owen. The relative quiet is completely shattered by an earth-shakingly aggressive roar
Owen freezes. Clutching his sword so tightly that his fingers start to blister and his knuckles begin to pale.
Suddenly, the hunter has become the hunted.
-
Unbeknownst to him, Owen has another couple of hunters on his tail.
Bloodied, brutal, and silently plotting his demise, Trading glances as if they were full conversations on the nigh silent walk to what was once home.
As Krow and Red approach the clearing, the first thing they notice is the smell. The air reeks of ash, and they can't even see the doors yet.
Krow wills Red to hurry up but never once looks behind it. He can keel over and die for all it cares about anything right now. Because right now, there is justice to be served.
Plus, since when has a demon ever been bothered by a little fire.
-
Krow doesn't even have to see the fight, to know that Lav is winning
In a fight between a man and shapeshifting shadow creature, currently taking the form of a ferocious grizzly, you don't even have to hear any of the commotions to determine the victor. But in case you don't get the hint, the odds are not in man's favor.
As Lav and Owen trade blows, he becomes all the more aware of the fact that he is in fact losing. His previously carefree disposition all but disappears as he properly focuses, honing in on his training. He ducks and swoops and turns as if the battle is a practiced dance. An effective strategy against anything or anyone normal. But Lav is far from normal. He doesn't know the steps to the dance, so he makes his own, and Owen is forced to match.
Lav drags his claws across Owen's face, mirroring previously attained scars, drawing an "X" across his skin. Owen retaliates by sinking his sword through to the hilt into Lav's abdomen. The shiny metal comes out coated dark, covered in black what may or may not be blood. Lav doesn't so much as flinch.
When you have to fight for your life every day in the dark places of the universe, fighting for someone else life is child's play.
Lav remembers when he was first introduced to the concept of friends. Friends protect each other. If this is what friends are supposed to do, he thinks. I should make friends more often.
Tooth and nail, claw and sword, for a friend or for foe, Lav and Owen fight.
Krow struggles upward, clinging to crevices in the walls, forcing itself upright. It's still bleeding. And a lot. There's nothing to stop the flow with. It's getting light-headed, tempted even, to collapse again.
It needs something to wrap the wound with, and desperately. A sleeve? A pant leg maybe? Would those be long enough? The voices answer for it.
No way would work, you are an idiot.
It does have something that would work though...
It shrugs Freda's jacket off of its shoulders with a pained grimace. This is going to hurt more emotionally than physically, it realizes as it starts to tear the coat into long strips, Muttering curses, and sorries with each undone stitch.
By the time it's done, it's in tears., and not from the pain.
The threat of passing out recedes, slowly and surely. It quickly redirects its attention to Owen getting mauled.
It could stop Lav. But does it really want to? Attempted murder is a serious crime. It could leave, let Lav do his thing. They would meet up later. The bad guy is dead. Happily ever after.
That is exactly what you want Krow to do. Isn't that correct reader? You want justice, and this seems like a pretty convenient way of getting it.
But there's another factor that nags at Krow. Makes it hesitate. Guilt. An annoying little speck of guilt.
"Sure you want him to die, but do really want to be responsible?" One voice questions.
"Do you really want that on your conscience?" Another inquires.
Strangely enough, despite all the reasons it should be completely ok with the way Owen goes out, it isn't.
"Whatever you do. Don't kill him!" it shouts back at Lav as he stumbles through the darkness, feeling its way back to the glade. It's not even sure if Lav is listening, but a least the roaring goes quiet. Good or bad sign? Who knows?
It may or not regret that later.
Mercy has a very steep price.
-
The rest of the clearing members have settled back around the campfire, clutching the few belongings they still have. A quick head count later, Owen, Krow, Rasbi, and Guts are missing. No way to tell who's already dead. No time to find them either. The heat is rising too fast.
Krow is unbothered by the lava as it makes a beeline for the campfire where everyone is gathered, and Red is not far behind, expertly stepping and jumping over firey pools like a deadly game of hopscotch.
When Krow makes it to the others it somehow enters with more flare than the clearing around it.
"GET THE **** OUT OF MY WAY!" Krow screeches, tearing through the crowd. " WHERE THE **** IS HE! WHERE IS OWEN?!"
"GEEZ," Bek exclaims, startled by the sudden shouting.
"KROW!" Magic exclaims excitedly.
"KROW WHAT'S GOING ON??" Soup screams, voice dripping with worry. "HOW DID YOU LOSE A WHOLE ******** ARM-"
"Krow have you seen Owen? Was he with you?" Kyle asks, trying to bring the screams down to a reasonable volume. (and failing miserably)
"WHERE THE **** IS HE SO I CAN CLAW HIS EYES OUT." Krow continues, with total disregard for anyone's eardrums.
"I'm kinda with Krow on this one." Red adds."Where is Owen like actually?"
"Krow are you okay?" Ayngel says, gesturing to its arm.
"Yeah are you? What happened?" Acho chimes.
Spidey just sits there. Pale. Disbelieving. Draxy has to be held back from tackling it into a hug.
And this, dear reader, is where our stars align.
Krow, the one with both arms, steps into the clearing. The strips of Freda's jacket wrapped around its waist.
funnily enough, it is the original Krow that spots it first.
"WHO THE **** ARE YOU?!"