“If your tired.

  Then rest and find the meaning of life in that spare time.”

  Lucius’ voice. It gave a chime, like a doorbell ringing.

  *Or simply as if it was just a bell, alerting people.

  A bell.

  Bells.

  I remember a bell, oh I know of bell. The word bell is in rebellion right? The same rebellion that accomplished nothing, there was no retaking Floria from Gods. There is no Floria now is there.

  Just ash and blood, and what can we do with that.

  Then Lucius has the audacity, to speak.

  But it’s not that easy.

  It never is.*

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “If you feel tired of all of it, then rest. You haven’t taken a break in a while, have you?” Lucius loosened his grip.

  “Can I honestly take a break during these times?” Jeremiah scoffed, he rustled through his pockets— shoving a black liquor lollipop into his mouth. “Felix must be enraged, all that money he spent on making a utopia.”

  “I was planning on going to Thidos’ Cathedral with the rest of the surviving rebels, there’s no point despising each other whilst we both are victims of the same situation.”

  “Then when are we going?”

  “No.

  You don’t go, you heard what I said right. You’ll stay at home and relax— perhaps Saraline, Dara and Psylaiso will return and then you can speak to them.”

  “Who told you to act as my father?”

  “You don’t want to keep searching for a family. You should search for yourself and not another person to rely on.”

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  “I’m plenty by myself…

  I wish I could say that. I’ve always needed someone’s shoulder, that assist in order to do anything really. But—”

  “It’s over now.”

  “Yeah.”

  It’s over for now.

  Flap.

  Flap.

  The safety of rocks caught Jeremiah’s fall as the Guildford travelled with the rest. Actually there was one left.

  Medusa.

  She was in the cave alongside him.

  Just standing opposite away though, her eyes averted away. Purposely. It faced at the rocks, in between the infinite distance was the torch.

  Laying on the ground, rolling in a spiral.

  *It’s always a spiral, it’s always.*

  “Medusa.”

  A pause, she didn’t respond for a moment; didn’t lift her eyes off the rocks. Or even breathe.

  “Jeremiah.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, personally. It’s just… remember that people died everywhere.

  It’s hard to hold a conversation with someone right when the world practically ended. You gotta just stare down at the rocks and then realise what fucked up turns of events lead up to this reality.”

  “It’s hell.”

  “Hell.” She lifted her hair up and stared at the Demon-Child. Her face was smooth but stained with dirt, the snakes on her hair dormant. Leaving her bleached pale waves slithering down her neck. She stared at her leather black gloves, then her biker outfit. Removing the Rebellion Spiral pinned onto her breast and clutching it in her hands.

  “Jeremiah. Have you ever been to hell?”

  “I couldn’t say. Even as the ‘Demon-Child’, I’ve never been an actual visitor.”

  “No. Not the physical place.

  But mentally.”

  Crunch.

  The lollipop cracked in his mouth.

  “When you are so down, there’s no way to get back up. What do you do then? It’s your biggest chance to showcase your power and yet. You can’t even…

  I told you I joined for money right?

  That’s the truth, money never lies. I was lied to and it’s influenced my thoughts. How I think, how I trust— if I would ever. When I know I wouldn’t.

  Hence that….

  I don’t believe anyone that I’ve ever met was real. Never have, probably never will. It’s all just cognition. It’s what you see on the outside that’s been doyled by senses— obscuring the truth. But what hits me the most, is that as a Rebel that I prided myself on being.

  I was useless.

  Not just I can’t fight a God.

  But I wasn’t even able to move. I thank the First Angel for saving my life but, I can’t even do that myself. I mean I’ve been apart of the Cassettes ever since Kanae founded it three years ago and. Training ever since just to be trapped in my own body, and then witness hell.

  It’s pathetic on my part, extremely pathetic. It’s repulsive even on how I even express myself as a Rebel.

  I made of the others because, as obvious and generic as it sounds.

  I’m just hating myself.”

  She stared back down at the rocks.

  *What’s so great about the rocks…*

  Jeremiah got up, the dust from the floor stapling to his clothes as he walked over to the Gorgon. “Lollipop?”

  Jeremiah offered a cherry pop.

  “Sure.” Medusa took it.

  “I can’t say anything, I’ve been down my shit as well. I’m the worst therapist for something like this but.

  The question you asked, the answer is yes. I’ve been to hell, and it’s the worst place you can ever go.”

  *Mummuring.

  The thoughts of three people from above.

  Two women and one teenage girl.

  It was them of course.

  Great.*

  Thank you for reaching the end of this chapter!

  A lot went down, and from here the story begins to accelerate even faster. Every character is being tested, and every decision is reshaping the world around them.

  If you have thoughts, theories, or reactions, I’d love to hear them, comments genuinely help the story grow. If you’re enjoying things, don’t forget to follow the series so you don’t miss upcoming updates.

  More chaos awaits next chapter, "Chapter 89: A Whimsical-Race with a Long Tail."