Chapter 71: Cross And Straw [20] Garden Of Eden

The Garden of Eden slowly dissolved, the river turning to dust, the flowers shivering, and then the world disappeared.

The cave reassembled itself around him. Fire still crackling, emitting a faint heat that warmed the air, fighting off the frigid cold.

His hand was hovering an inch above Willow’s face, exactly where he had left it.

Leonidas looked at it for a moment. Then at Willow, and then back to his hand.

She was still asleep, breathing even, face slack. The small smile from earlier had softened into the face you had after a laugh, that amalgamation of a smile and frown.

Her raven hair had spread across the crimson fabric like flowing shadows, dark against dark, catching what little firelight remained.

He stayed very still.

It occurred to him, not for the first time and not without irritation, that Willow was unreasonably beautiful when she wasn’t cursing at him for being useless, which, by the way, he wasn’t.

As much as he wanted to squish her cheeks, Leonidas moved backwards, careful not to poke the sleeping bear. He was certain a sword would fly at his head the instant he did, and unlike his own blade, Smooth Criminal was practically a part of Willow.

He lowered his hand and backed away. He straightened up, rolled his neck once, and crossed back to his side of the cave.

He settled against the wall. Blush across his knees. Eyes forward.

Right.

Improvement. That was the thing. He had an Edict he didn’t know how to use, a power system mechanic he had theorized but not tested, a Manifest recovering somewhere in the mutated expanse of his phosphene space, and approximately four months of the Labyrinth to catch up on.

The dread from earlier had settled into a background frequency rather than an active alarm, which was either reassuring or the kind of thing that preceded something catastrophic, and he had learned not to distinguish between the two without more information.

He could start with the Edict. [Wisdom of the Lamb], specifically the second ability, [Inheritance Of The Dead], and what he had theorized about the definition of death. But he still didn’t know if his theory was right. Was it simple because he hadn’t put Willow to sleep himself, or did it just not work on sleeping people?

"What were you doing?"

The voice startled Leonidas out of his thoughts. It seemed Willow was awake.

He looked over.

Willow was lying exactly as she had been, eyes still closed, face still slack. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it.

Then she opened one eye.

The raven iris found him with the unerring accuracy...almost as if she wasn’t actually asleep.

Ah, she caught me.

"Why was your hand over my face?" She made a shocked expression, one full of mock disgust and fear.

"W-were you trying to...take advantage of me...?"

Her voice was so small, it would have fooled anyone but him.

"I was checking if you were still breathing. Besides, if I really wanted to, even Rani would be a better option."

All of a sudden, both of Willow’s eyes opened, utterly devoid of emotion, staring at him with murder.

"What did you say...perchance my hearing is affected by the sleep, but did you just compare me to a...child?"

Perhaps...that wasn’t the best idea.

He definitely needed to start thinking before insulting people. Leonidas sighed and shifted the topic.

"You were very still, and I was just checking to see if you were asleep."

"I was asleep."

"People can be still without being asleep."

"People who are dead, Art."

"Exactly my point!"

Willow sat up with unhurried movements. Her hair was doing something complicated on one side, pressed flat by the fabric, which she ignored entirely. Willow looked at him for a long moment.

"You’re a terrible liar," she said.

"I’m an excellent liar. You’re simply very perceptive."

"That’s not the compliment you think it is."

"It absolutely is."

She pulled her knees to her chest, arms folded over them, and regarded him with quiet indifference. Perhaps she was thinking about what he was about to attempt over her sleeping body...instead of guarding her.

He himself would have been extremely apprehensive had he turned into some sort of living experiment in his sleep. As such, he could, albeit somewhat, relate with her.

"Your hand," Willow spoke again, not letting the topic settle, "What were you actually doing?"

Leonidas considered several answers. The true one, that he had been inside his imaginative world, theorycrafting his Edict and had lost track of where his physical hand was in the process, was both accurate and deeply unglamorous.

The interesting one, that he had been testing the first stages of a power he didn’t fully understand yet, one that he wasn’t exactly supposed to possess, was more compelling but would require an explanation he wasn’t prepared to give at this hour.

He settled on the version that was mostly true.

"I was working on something...ehh, let’s just say an application of my Edict...slightly related to death...but only slightly."

In all honesty, that might not have been the best way to say he was trying something harmless...mostly.

When Willow spoke, her voice was so dangerously quiet that Leonidas felt shivers down his spine.

"So you basically...tried to kill me in my sleep? Very mature of you, Art."

"No, no, it was more like I tried to experiment on you in the name of science."

As a wise man had once said, ’The plan failed, so naturally one should invest more into it.’

And Leonidas, being the faithful, nice, kind, peace-loving man he was, did exactly that.

I already dug my grave, better to continue with a bigger shovel.

Willow stared at him for a solid two seconds, then stood up. Her armor slowly reassembled around her, the nightgown turning into the demonic visage she carried into battle.

Her sword—Smooth Criminal—appeared solidified in her hands, and she turned towards him...very slowly.

"Art...I met God in my dream, and he told me to try something on the person currently closest to me, which would be you."

Leonidas smiled weakly, "Mercy...?"