The message came loud and clear.
It erupted from the forest with a flock of dark birds, and as he turned his eyes to that mysterious unknown, he felt his heart quiver.
He told himself that he would be ready, the next time he ventured into that forest following her search light. He would be ready once he reached the water. He'd practiced. Perhaps in quiet, in solitude, lacking the opportunity to exercise everything he'd learned until now. For a fleeting moment, cowardice told him that he still wasn't ready, but was he confident enough in turn to call her bluff? He wasn't. What he feared more than her was losing her, and in the end, that fear won out. The message was burned into his mind. It was what dragged his paws to the forest, where he peered into the darkening trees and saw the elusive, telltale flicker of her lamp. He didn't know who held it, but he would follow.
The cat had emerged from his den, reaching for the bond, for the tug and pull of the doe that would summon him, whispers of where he had to go. He told no one - the message was blinding, deafening, and even if anyone had asked him he was certain he wouldn't be able to answer. His throat was tight, his heart screaming, wide blue eyes afraid - but he would go, for her. He would fall into the hands of the demon for her.
The trees towered above him like ominous gargoyles, their gnarled branches pointing down the path he had to take. They led him and the further he walked, the darker they became, until the patterns in their bark swirled into snarling and wailing faces, until in their deep crevices shone hateful and curious red eyes, until monsters began to silently follow behind. Every now and then a twig snapped, a chitter of malice, something dared to crawl out after only to hide itself in the foliage as he turned to look. He was a stranger here, venturing into the forest, his only aid the dancing search light that moved just out of reach. The demon led him into her realm, but he had promised himself that this time, he would emerge with Clover and chase the darkness away.
When he spotted her,
he stood at the edge of the water, she was in the grass and grappling between the light and the dark. The cat hesitated, it was like walking to his death - he didn't know what he would see here, or what he would feel. But he was prepared. Bartos pushed forward, his head low, limping stiffly towards the broken doe. The closer he came, the stronger the bond in his mind and heart, searching for something - anything. He approached from behind, silent. His breath faltered, until courage had finally pleaded him to act,
and he plunged into the water.
"Clover. I'm here."
@Belladonna
He was silent. There was no place for his voice, not yet - he knew that he would have to be careful in his approach. But he was ready to do what he needed to achieve his goal, to get out if this alive and with Clover by his side. He had prepared himself for it. He knew now what had become of her, even if emotion had clouded him before, even if fear had blinded and strangled him. He was so afraid that she would destroy him and everything he loved, but he understood what she was now. And he understood that he couldn't let her take hold of these feelings. They sustained her, for as long as she was bent and broken like this. He wouldn't let this darkness win.
She turned to gaze upon him and wipe the shadows from her face, her gaze weak and imploring and she begged him to leave the crypt ruled by the demon. He met her gaze in silence, softness, he wouldn't protest but nor would he comply. It didn't matter which side of her was speaking to him, it was still her. And she wanted to leave, begging for freedom from him and her selfish wants, claiming she had all she wanted - to see them - and he said nothing still. Fear lingered deep inside of him, but this was merely patience.
Her silence lingered and he could feel it transforming, and the waters, clear and warm, had suddenly turned dark. The murk crawled in as tendrils of filth gliding beneath the surface, clawing at him, vying to slide down his throat and choke him, but he held his breath, he held firm. Her cutting voice broke free and she looked up at him again. Her eye was dark and foreboding, but it was still her. She smiled at him, agreeing with herself, trying to convince the both of them of her terrible deeds. The expression of understanding that settled on his visage was slowly twisting into a hardened frown. Cold blue eyes darkened, deflecting, holding those words only to let them go as they served their purpose.
But she spoke of Vicktor, and how he had met his fate at the hooves of the doe, and how she twisted him and destroyed him. Little Pounce had died and it was Bartos who allowed him to walk blindly to his death, and everything he had ever known of Vicktor - his love, his gentle smile, his kind eyes. They were gone. They were gone because of him. If he had told the truth about Clover, then... the cold water froze him. He was running out of air.
This wasn't his fault. He grimaced as she spoke the words. And then she gasped for air, and Bartos watched as a gentle light ebbed from her throat and she ruefully admitted her flaws, only to contest herself again. His fear remained, the water stung his eyes and stilled his heart, but he persisted. Through the bond he reminded her, pleading for her to just stay and listen to him.
Just stay. Don't do anything drastic, please, just stay.