Q nearly screamed when he
saw the withered old hag that had once been his mother. She sat on the far end of the room, perched
in an onyx thrown. She was smiling,
cackling. Surrounding her throne were
crystal cages, the only source of light in the entire space. Aria was in the cage closest to his
mother.
Aria, her body unchanged,
looking exactly as he had remembered her.
Not even the passage of time had changed her beautiful face. She was standing; her arms limp at her side,
her eyes a liquid metallic. She was
singing, that same familiar, wordless melody that she had sung to open the
gateway to his mother’s world.
Aria’s face flinched, her
eyes flickered back to normal for a moment, and then the mirror surface swept
over them again. She had rejoined with
her body. She was no longer trapped in
that orb, but instead trapped in an oversized birdcage.
“Q, my darling boy, you
finally found me.” His mother’s voice was a bone chilling cackle. “And you
brought friends!”
“Give her back to me!” Q
rushed forward, towards his mother. It
was only Max’s arm that made him stop.
“Give me Aria back, you old bitch!”
“Is that any way to speak
to me? After everything you did, leaving me in that pit to die… I shouldn’t be
surprised.” His mother was standing now,
walking towards him.
She moved so quickly that
no one could react. Before Q could other
another word he felt his mother’s withered, boney hand wrap around his neck and
lift him off his feet.
“How about I stick you in
that cage with her? Leech off your souls at the same time. Isn’t that romantic?” She tightened her
grip. “Thank you, by the way. I’ve been hungry for so long, and you just
returned her soul to that shell of a body.
I can finally drain her dry.”
There was a loud woosh of
wind, and suddenly Q was falling to the ground, his mother’s hand still
clutching his throat. The only difference
from the moment before was that the hand was no longer connected to his
mother.
Ashtyn stood next to him,
a metallic fan blade in her hand. Her
eyes were sharp slits, and her mouth was a rigid line.
His mother stumbled back,
clutching the stump where her hand had once been. She was howling, screaming.
No…
She was laughing.
She stopped, standing up
straight, holding up the bloodless stump.
Q watched as the stump warped, and regrew. In moments she was wiggling her newly formed
fingers.
“Nice try.” She was
cackling, her loose jowls jiggling with each violent burst of laughter.
Q stood, flinging the
still clutching hand from his throat. It
shattered when it hit the ground. He
glanced at Ashtyn, who looked unfazed by the turn of events. Had she been expecting this? Had she known that the battle wouldn’t be
this easy?
“Give us back our
friends.” Ashtyn’s voice was a growl.
“And what? You’ll let me
go?” His mother was smirking, revealing rotted and ugly teeth.
“No, I’ll still kill you,
but at least you can die knowing you did the right thing.”
“I don’t think so.” His
mother waved her newly formed hand in the air.
That was when the floor
started to move under their feet.
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