The inner sanctum was clear aside from Nastasia, Dimentio, and Countess Tippi. The Countess was giving Nastasia the opportunity to explain why she was unable to stop the heroes like she had been ordered to.

"I underestimated their intelligence and overestimated the prince's strength," the blue girl explained. She kept her head low as she spoke. Both her hands were folded in her lap as she sat in her assigned seat. The room felt larger without Mimi and O'Chunks there too.

"You failed," Countess Tippi breathed. Her voice remained sweet, yet it was slightly lower and lined with a hint of disappointment.

"They're strong," Nastasia argued. "They may be strong enough to defy the prophecy, countess—"

"Don't," Countess Tippi warned. She held up a hand and lowered her voice even more. "You know better than anyone that we cannot let that happen."

Nastasia nodded as Dimentio leaned forward, placing a hand over his masked chin, silently observing. Nastasia hated how he was allowed to observe these supposedly "private" conversations between the countess and herself, but he was the assistant. He was always there, looming over Countess Tippi's shoulder.

"I just... I think you may have to use her," Nastasia breathed.

"Aha ha ha ha ha, and risk allowing her to fall into enemy hands?" Dimentio laughed in a mocking tone. "Nastasia, I thought you were smarter than—"

"No, she's right," the countess breathed. "I think she's exactly what we need to stop the heroes before they get too far. With her fighting for us, she may very well be able to convince the rest that they're on the wrong side."

"They'll recognize her," Dimentio warned. "This is a risk that doesn't need to be taken."

"Don't talk to me about risks, Dimentio," Countess Tippi demanded.

The jester fell silent, then glanced away and nodded.

"I'll send her out, my countess," he breathed, allowing his voice to soften just slightly.

The countess waved her hand, a gesture she often used to dismiss people during these brief meetings. Nastasia quickly nodded, then hopped down from her chair and scurried off. Dimentio wasn't so quick to leave, though.

"Dimentio, that means go," the countess breathed.

The jester nodded but still refused to leave. Instead, he brought his mismatched gaze to hers. 

Her gray eyes carried more intensity than they ever should have.

"What is it?" the countess asked as she raised an eyebrow. Her tone was sweet like always, but there was a slight annoyance beneath it. "You look troubled."

"You're not a villain, countess," Dimentio stated.

"I'm aware of that."

Dimentio nodded, then looked forward.

"There's still time. You can still change your mind. You can still—"

"No," Countess Tippi interrupted. "I can't. We're well past that point." Her fists clenched slightly. Her tone became just harsh enough to make herself clear.

Dimentio nodded and floated up out of his seat. He lowered himself to the ground in front of the countess and formally bowed to her.

"I figured. And... as your faithful, loyal servant, I'll support you until the end."

The countess nodded, then waved him off. This time, he did as she wished, leaving her to herself.

She lowered her head into her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose as she let out a sigh. Her heart swelled slightly. The castle hallways were so blank and empty. Mimi had once suggested decorating the walls with flowers, but the countess shot that idea down. Too much pain was attached to flowers. In fact, Mimi had to stop wearing her floral perfume because of the way the smell alone filled the countess with grief.

All these people, they were all making sacrifices for her. 

Even if everything went the way she wanted it to, she wouldn't get the ending she wanted. She wouldn't be able to sit in a meadow beneath a tree, staring at the sky and talking about the stars. She lost that life because of other people's mistakes, and now it couldn't be fixed.

But she was going to salvage what she could. She was going to do this. 

For Merlon. For Blumiere.

She doubted either of them would like who she had become, but as much as that mattered to her, she couldn't let it hold her back. Some things were just too important to give up on.

. . .

Dimentio floated down the hall until he passed by Nastasia, who was walking at a slightly slower pace than usual, clearly deep in thought. This was somewhat normal for her, though. Dimentio noticed things like that. He noticed everything. Well, almost everything.

"You can't be him," Nastasia whispered as Dimentio floated past her, making him stop in his tracks.

He remained still for a moment, then turned to face her.

"I'm not trying to be," he stated. "And you can't be her."

The air grew cold for a moment, and the once overwhelmingly bright hallways seemed to darken just slightly.

"What does that mean?" she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"It means our beloved Nastasia has a secret," Dimentio teased, drawing slightly closer. "And the countess wouldn't like it."

She gritted her teeth slightly and scoffed, adjusting her glasses.

"You're one to talk. How's your secret prisoner, by the way?"

Dimentio suddenly grasped her arm and teleported the two of them out of the open halls, into someplace safer. Someplace he wouldn't be overheard. They both landed in a world with green floors, walls, and ceilings. There was no bright gash in the sky, no overbearingly boring white walls, no light or dark magic.

"How did you know about that?" Dimentio hissed. His grip on Nastasia's arm tightened.

"Ah, I see the rest of us minions aren't supposed to know about your little side project. How interesting... Tell me what you know about me, first," she demanded as she ripped her arm back and smoothed down her hair.

The jester clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. He hated this kind of conversation game. Who did Nastasia think she was, pretending she had just as much power in this situation as him? Yes, they were both minions, but he was technically of higher ranking than her. He was the countess's personal assistant, which put him a step above the rest. But, if this was the only way to get information out of her, then so be it. He wasn't going to just stand by and let her hold this over him forever. Best to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.

"You're the reason the prince slipped from our grasp," he stated.

Nastasia let out a breath and glanced away. She feared that someone would figure this out. She tried to be cautious, but she knew the odds were against her. She was just hoping that if she was caught, it would be by O'Chunks or Mimi. Not Dimentio.

"Are you going to tell the countess?" she asked, somehow keeping her voice steady and professional.

"Hmm, no," Dimentio hummed. "Are you going to tell me why you're helping the heroes?"

"She's not good for him," Nastasia quickly stated. "He doesn't belong with either of them."

"So he belongs with you?" Dimentio asked.

"No! I... I don't know," she stuttered. "I just... can't let the countess win."

"And she can't let the Dark Prognosticus win."

"Maybe there's a way neither of them win," Nastasia argued.

"There isn't," Dimentio stated. "It's either black or white. There's no gray."

"What are you, then?!" Nastasia exclaimed.

Dimentio stilled yet again, placing a hand on his masked face.

"I am a servant to the countess," he replied calmly. "Tell me what you know, now."

Nastasia let out a strained breath and rolled her eyes.

"I know you have the man in green," she stated. "I don't know if you can tell, but you think out loud a lot, Dimentio. You were in your room and I was passing by. The way you spoke made it clear that you had him. Or at least knew of his whereabouts. I don't know where he is, I don't know who else knows, but I know you have him."

Dimentio nodded to himself, trying to process what she was telling him. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. Half the time he didn't even notice whenever he was thinking out loud.

"I won't tell the rest if you don't," Nastasia breathed. "The loyalty you feel to the countess... that's what I feel to Blumiere. He saved me the way she saved you. That's why I have to—"

"I understand," he breathed.

Nastasia nodded, her gaze softening a little as she turned away.

She didn't like trusting people. Not anymore. But... if she had to trust Dimentio, she could do that. After all, they were both saved by two people who were basically gone now. People who deserved more than they got.

Sometimes, it felt like this battle between the light and the dark was just being fought for the sake of it. Nastasia never wanted to pick a side. She never wanted the world to have to choose, she wanted light and dark together. She wanted every shade of gray imaginable.

But aside from all of that, she only truly wanted one thing.

It was the same thing the countess wanted.

It was the very thing Pierre and the heroes had.

Nastasia flipped away, landing back in the brightly colored castle and leaving Dimentio in his own little dimension. Dimension D, he used to call it when they first met. She had no idea if he replaced the name or not. Dimension D always felt a bit basic for his taste.

The jester let out a sigh, then grasped his mask and pulled it off his face. He carefully set it down, then took his gloves off, brushing his gray hands over his equally as gray face. His skin felt just as cold as it always did.

He waved his hand, making a clone of himself appear in front of him, like a mirror. Even now, it felt hard to look at himself. One dark eye, one bright one. Skin that didn't align with dark or light magic. He had strands of both black and white hair, though he kept them tucked up into his cap. The best part about being a jester was being able to hide every part of himself from the world.

Well, almost every part.

He snapped his fingers, making the clone completely vanish before reaching down and grasping his mask, using it to cover his face once again so no one would have to see.

The only thing he couldn't keep hidden were his eyes.

His eyes, and his smile.

Even his smile didn't feel real anymore. Or maybe it did, sometimes. It had to occasionally be real, right? He just couldn't tell when it was.

Things felt the same way with the countess, now. He could never tell when her kind tone was genuine anymore. He used to be better at reading her. Maybe the fact that everything was becoming more real was making him start to slip up.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath to recompose himself. He could stand there for hours just thinking about everything going on both within him and around him, but he didn't have hours to spend. There was work to be done, and like it or not, he was going to have to get his hands dirty.

Nastasia and her little sidequest weren't anything he needed to worry about. Yes, he was curious, but in the end, she was harmless, really. She was nothing against the power of the Light and Dark Prognosticus. She must have known that too. Try as she might, her plans would fall apart eventually.

He could expose her, but what good would that accomplish? Getting her thrown out of the castle would only send her the heroes' way, and imagine how much more damage could be done if she didn't have to be sneaky about helping them anymore. Besides, finding out that one of her closest followers was planning to betray her was the last thing Countess Tippi needed. Dimentio could keep this under control for her. After all, Nastasia seemed to trust him.

He shook out his hands, then waved his arm, making a small seed appear in his hand.

It took him hours to choose this specific seed. He had to make sure it was just right. After all, with the way everything was going, he couldn't afford to mess anything up. He had one chance, and one chance only, to get this right.

The days of darkness were over. Pain, imperfection, heartbreak, abandonment, all those icky things were all going to vanish. He was going to find out where he came from, he was going to get his home back.