Gem's steps were slow and deliberate as she wandered through the gleaming streets of the Lust Ring, her senses on high alert. The air here, thick with indulgence and excess, seemed almost stifling. It wasn't the noise or the chaos of the place that made her uneasy—no, she was used to that—but the knowledge that Alastor was still lurking in the shadows. She could feel his presence like a gnawing itch at the back of her mind.
It wasn't even about him physically tracking her—she knew he could do that without much effort—but there was something different about his persistence. Something about how he toyed with her, like a cat batting at a mouse just before deciding whether or not to eat it.
Her claws flexed at her sides, almost a reflexive motion. She wanted nothing more than to leave this ring and return home to the peace of her cathedral, away from all the distractions and games. But she couldn't shake the feeling that Alastor wasn't done with her. Not by a long shot.
Her eyes flicked nervously to the corners of the streets, scanning the shadows—the faint flicker of a green glowing grin.
"Still here?" A static voice like honey dripped from the air, silky and menacing.
Gem's jaw tightened. Her worst instincts were right.
She didn't turn around, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn't stop muttering bitterly, "You're such a pest, Alastor."
The shadows around her seemed to ripple with laughter, and Alastor's shadow danced across the ground like a wraith, stretching long and crooked. It didn't even have the decency to take form, lingering there in the periphery of her vision like a lingering threat.
"Why not just find the guy who shot you when you were alive instead of stalking me?" she shot back, frustration tingling her words.
There was a pause, and then an eerie laugh track rang out, vibrating with something predatory in the sound. "You know me so well, my dear," Alastor replied smoothly. "I've already found that lonesome hunter years ago... quite satisfying he made for a trophy, I must say. But as for you... well, I've been wondering where you've been hiding. It's quite lonesome without our little outings. I do miss them."
Gem's fists clenched at her sides. She could almost hear the amusement in his voice, the mockery layered under his every word. She would have turned on him then, would have slashed at whatever part of him she could find. But she held herself back.
She had been through too much in her life, her second life, to let him drag her into some twisted game of his. And yet, there was a small part of her that couldn't help but wonder if his words meant anything at all if there was any shred of truth behind his playful cruelty.
Instead, she scoffed. "Anyone who remotely goes on a date in Hell is setting themselves up for a life of misery," she said, voice dripping with disdain. "As for my whereabouts—which I'm sure you've already seen—I've just been staying home. Away from you and your... games."
She was trying to sound dismissive, even as the air around her thickened with tension.
But then, the shadows moved again, quicker than her eyes could track.
In an instant, they twisted and coiled around her, and before she could react, the shadow of Alastor reached out and grabbed her by the face, forcing her head back as if he could physically control her. His voice was low, dripping with a sense of unspoken admiration.
"Your eyes are still as sparkling as ever," Alastor purred, his tone almost affectionate. "I can nearly see myself in them."
Gem's body went rigid, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the pressure of his intangible grip on her face. Her vision swam with anger. She wasn't going to let this happen.
Her claws lashed out before she could comprehend. In a blur of motion, she swung her hand toward the shadow, claws connecting with the air itself, and the shadow faltered, retreating.
She slapped the air again, her voice a harsh growl. "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Don't think I will not defend myself, Alastor," she hissed. "Only until the day my soul dies again—then, and only then—may my home no longer be one. But until then, don't touch me."
The shadow recoiled, as though the words themselves burned, and Alastor's voice came again, softer this time, though it was still taunting, still dripping with that all-knowing amusement.
"Such a soul of dismay," he mused, almost to himself. "Broken and crudely put together. You hide it so well... until then, my little mirror dancer."
Gem gritted her teeth, her eyes blazing as she turned sharply, her steps quickening as she moved away from the oppressive shadow. But even as she walked, she could feel his eyes—if not his actual gaze, then the metaphorical one—tracking her every movement. It was maddening.
She wasn't going to let him win, though. Not now. Not ever. Her steps grew faster as she made her way through the streets, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. There was too much on her mind to deal with Alastor's nonsense.
As much as she hated it, part of her knew Alastor was right. She was hiding from something. She'd always been hiding from something. It was just... easier to deal with the darkness of her mind than face the chaos of Hell, of the mirrors, of the past she could never escape.
But there were things she wouldn't face—at least not now. Not with the shadows looming over her once more. She had to get back to her cathedral. To her domain. To somewhere where she could breathe again.
And yet, Alastor's words stayed with her, echoing in her mind.
"Until then, my little mirror dancer..."