Chapter Text
There’s a lot of things that Sasha Waybright has been completely uncertain of for a while, but there’s one thing she is sure of right now: traipsing through the unfamiliar wilderness of an alternate dimension filled with amphibians is not her idea of a good time.
It definitely hadn’t been her choice to go on this mission—not at all. If it had been up to them, they’d be trekking all over the place, searching for the two people that mattered to them more than anything. Instead, they’re stuck on a stupid quest, up to their knees in generally unpleasant muck at any given point. Sasha’s pretty sure this is not exactly doing great things for her armor.
“Grime, come on,” they whine. “Do I have to do this?”
The toad captain doesn’t even bother with words in reply; he grunts something that sounds vaguely affirmative and continues fussing with his supplies.
“Dude, you’re totally doing this all wrong. Just send one of your soldiers; they’ll be so much less noticeable than a literal human waltzing into Newtopia.”
“Don’t call me dude,” Grime huffs back. “You’re my lieutenant. It’s weird. And no, I can’t send a regular toad scout. I’ve heard reports of a possible other human in this city; you’re much better suited for the job! It’s probably one of your silly friends that you’re always talking about, anyway.” He picks up a rusty sword, eyes it for a few seconds, and sets it down. “You can meet up with them, talk, catch up, compare tongues, whatever it is you guys do.”
Sasha nearly chokes. “We don’t—god, never mind.” They run a hand over their face, sighing. “Isn’t the point of this to spy on the newts? Not mess around with my friend who may or may not be there?”
“Precisely!” The captain finally turns to face her, sporting a wide grin that makes her shift her weight from foot to foot in discomfort. “You’ll lie to them about what your intentions are! Get as much information as you can out of them, and then head back.”
“What makes you think I’d lie to my friend?”
Grime gives them a dead stare.
She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, I’ll do it.” No one there is gonna be any more human than what’s in front of me right now, she thinks tiredly. Waste of my time. “And what’ll you be doing in the meantime? Just sitting around and waiting for me to come back?”
“No,” Grime responds, annoyed. “I’m going to work on suppressing the frog rebellion. You know, the one that started because of that one frog who looks too old to even be a symbol of freedom in the first place. I figured hitting two herons with one stone would be easier.”
Sasha raises a brow. “And what exactly is the heron I’m hitting here?”
The toad sighs and turns back around, returning his attention to the random weapons strewn about the room. “We’re going to take over Newtopia, of course,” he states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Those pretentious newts have had their power for too long. I shouldn’t have to deal with things like squashing a rebellion; I should be able to sit on a throne and have control of all of Amphibia!”
Sasha neglects to point out that Grime would probably still have to crush rebellions if he were king. “Alright,” they say, stretching their arms above their head and accepting defeat. “Give me the directions; let’s get this thing over with.”
In hindsight, Grime really should’ve warned her how hard it would be to travel on foot.
“I’m gonna kill that toad,” she mutters under her breath, trying and failing to avoid stepping in places where her armored boots would sink straight into the ground. “This is probably pointless! Anne and Marcy aren’t gonna be there, and I’m gonna have to explain to a bunch of newts why I’m actually not suspicious for sneaking into their city, and now I’m talking to myself and I sound like a maniac.”
They half-expect someone to pop out from the bushes and say yes, you do sound like a maniac, but no such thing happens. Each step forward makes them want to tear their hair out even more; they don’t even know how long they’ve been traveling for. It has been long enough for the supplies in their pack to run thin. Grime, you better not have miscalculated how much stuff I’d need, or I’ll kill you twice.
Their legs ache fiercely, their mouth is dry, their eyes are sore and in desperate need of rest—all in all, they weren’t in good shape. Their stomach protests loudly with their next step. Okay, maybe I can afford a break, they finally allow themself to think. She had a tendency to push herself for way too long, anyway.
Sasha sets her pack down on the ground next to a stump not too far away from her current path; she sits, rummages through her supplies, pulls out some sort of food item that she couldn’t identify to save her life (Grime had promised it was edible), and straightens herself back up. Sunlight glares directly into their eyes when they do so. They squint, trying to find the source, and—
An opening in the foliage peeks through at them directly to their left. They gasp, shooting up and grabbing their bag, scrambling towards their hope at getting out in the open again. One hand frantically pushes aside the undergrowth, and then they’re out, they’re free, they’re—
“Oh,” Sasha breathes. “Holy shit.”
In front of them stretches miles and miles of open, shallow water, clean and bright and shimmering with the daylight. Their eyes trace the coastline to where it fades into the horizon, made up of the same springy grass and sand mixture that they’re currently standing on. Closer to them, a brilliant city rises straight up from the water, surrounded by crumbled ruins and massive walls with red aquatic overgrowth clawing up their bricks. Structures resembling giant mushrooms peek over the fortifications. Their red rooftops glint aggressively; Sasha brings a hand to their face and shields their eyes.
In the center of it all, an impressive castle looking somewhat like a conical spiral shell towers well over everything else. Some overwhelmingly huge contraption is stuck on top of the castle’s peak; for a wild moment, Sasha thinks it’s a laser before coming to the conclusion that that would be ridiculous.
“This has gotta be it,” they say to no one in particular, and then they pump their fist in the air and cheer as quietly as possible. “Finally! ”
Her excitement almost causes her to rush into the city immediately. She’s already taken a few steps towards the water before she stops herself, shaking her head. “No, okay, we’re camping out here until it’s nighttime, and then we’re gonna scale one of those ruin thingies and try to get over the wall that way.” They pause. “Who’s we? I am the only one out here. Jesus, Sash, get a hold of yourself.”
They check their pack to ensure they still have their rope; they do, thankfully. (For the wall, Grime had told them when he’d given it to them. Sasha had not tried to figure out what he was talking about at the time.)
“Alright,” she exhales, surveying the space around her. She’s far enough from the city that she won’t be noticed if she sleeps in the open; she’s not sure anything could convince her to go back into the dense swamp behind her. They busy themself with laying out the absolute minimum of what they need to stay in place for a bit. Their eyes are practically begging to be closed; it’s not long before they’ve rolled out their sleeping bag and laid down in it.
Just a quick nap, they think, shutting their eyes and feeling the warmth of the sun on their face. Then I’m up and ready to go. And absolutely nothing will go wrong, because I’ve got this and this isn’t a stupid plan at all. Everything is fine.
***
Sasha soon discovers everything is not as fine as she thinks it is.
The moon is high in the sky when they shoot up from their sleeping bag, panicked. “Damn it,” they curse, letting out a string of swears that no middle schooler should actually know. “What time is it—”
There’s nothing they can use that would in fact tell them the time; they realize they’ll simply have to scale the wall and hope it’s not close to morning. She groans and hurriedly stuffs supplies back into her bag, leaving out only the rope and slinging the bag over her shoulder. Not daring to waste even a minute, she scrambles down towards the water. Said water is freezing when they step into it. I’m not even getting paid for this.
An especially tall ruin around the back of the city catches her eye immediately. She moves in a wide circle around the perimeter, trying her best not to draw any attention from potential guards. Eventually, she gets used to the water lapping at her legs, though she’s not sure if her body became accustomed to the temperature or just grew numb.
After what seems like an agonizingly long time, they reach the base of the ruin and make no hesitations in beginning to climb it. The surface is rough, which makes the vaguely pillar-like structure easy to scale. They press themself flat against the stone when they reach the summit. No guards face them from the top of the wall that they’re now on even level with; they cautiously stand, feeling soon enough like they could take over the world at this height.
No protection for the back of your city? they think, unimpressed. Come on, guys, you should do better than that.
They tie loops into each end of the rope clutched in their hands. Much like the side of the ruin, the peak of it is bumpy, with plenty of protrusions to secure one end of the rope. Sasha does so, then eyes the wall. Torch holders line its edge, though some of the torches seem to have been reserved for the front of the city walls, where the gates were. They spot an empty one and heft the other end of the rope.
Alright, no biggie. You get a bunch of tries at this anyway; no one’s watching you. They throw the rope with all of their might—a valiant effort, but they end up missing spectacularly.
God, I have no idea what I’m doing, she realizes, reeling the rope back in. She tries again: another miss. It ends up taking her seven tries to finally hook the loop on the torch holder (she bites her tongue to keep herself from cheering out loud). The holder, from what they can observe, looks like it’s made of steel and mounted securely to the stone; they just have to assume it’ll be strong enough to hold them and their pack. Slowly, carefully, they crouch, grab the rope in both hands, and let themself ease away from the ruin until they’re hanging freely. The holder doesn’t budge.
The air rushes out of their lungs in gratitude, and they start shuffling towards the wall, one hand in front of the other. The strain on her arms is ridiculous; they’re burning worse than any muscle ache she’s ever felt by the time she reaches the other side, panting. Their heart nearly gives out when they hastily switch from grasping the rope to clutching at the side of the wall. The last of her strength is spent on dragging herself the rest of the way up, and she collapses on the ground of the fortification as soon as possible.
“Perfect,” they gasp out, completely out of breath and grinning. “Never doing that again.”
It takes them a few minutes to recover, stand, retrieve their rope, find a way down (which ends up being a ladder bolted to the side of the wall), and get back on level ground. Relief floods their nerves at their success. They weren’t exactly scared that they wouldn’t have been able to make it, they’re just… glad that things are going well so far.
“Okay, where to,” she mutters. No citizens roam the paved roads, but dim streetlights were scattered around, illuminating patches of the city surrounding her. Stay out of those, or you’ll be caught quicker than you can blink.
Momentarily, she debates finding a place to hide in until morning, as if Anne or Marcy were here, they’d no doubt have found somewhere to stay. But even then, Sasha ponders, back pressed up against the wall, if I were a human who’d been living in this place, I’d have drawn some attention. Their eyes fall on the castle looming at the center of the city. Especially from the king.
They start forward, skirting away from the light where they’d be much too exposed, making as direct a path as they can towards the castle. If there was a human in Newtopia, they knew that they’d at least have the king attending to them; Sasha had learned the hard way that humans tended to be dealt with by the higher-ups in this world. She could only hope that whoever was here hadn’t gotten the same treatment that she’d suffered.
It doesn’t take long before she’s reached the edge of the formidable structure; it also doesn’t take long before someone spots her.
“Hey!” a voice shouts from somewhere above them.
Shit. They flinch, realizing they’d somehow approached the very front of the castle. Two guards flank the entrance, and one of them is pointing directly at them.
“You there! Come closer!”
Sasha straightens themself, trying to look as intimidating as possible. They’re just newts. You can take them on. “And what if I don’t?” Taunting the king’s royal soldiers maybe wasn’t their brightest idea, but they really weren’t in the mood to get bossed around right now.
She hears some sort of clicking sound and freezes. The other guard regards her coolly, aiming a now cocked and loaded crossbow at her chest. She’s some distance away from the both of them, but something tells her that this newt has impeccable aim.
“He’ll shoot,” the first guard states matter-of-factly. “Intruders aren’t welcome.”
“I’m not an intruder,” Sasha lies. Oh, Grime was so going to pay them when they got back. Nonetheless, they raise their hands above their head and climb the wide stone steps until they’re standing right in front of the two newts. The one with the crossbow falters and lowers his weapon, gazing at them with an expression of mild awe. The other peers at them. She can’t tell if they’re as impressed as their companion.
“A human,” they whisper, and their breathlessness gives away their shock. “Just when we thought there was only one of you…”
Sasha’s heart slams against their rib cage. Grime hadn’t been kidding. “There’s another? Here? Where? Can I see them?” She steps forward in her eagerness; guard number two immediately aims his crossbow again.
“Not so fast,” he warns, gruff. “What’s your name?”
She swallows. “Sasha.”
Recognition passes over both newts’ faces; the first guard claps their hands together. “Of course! Of course; it’s you! ” Before Sasha can ask what they mean, they step forward and place a hand on her arm. She resists the urge to shrink away. “They told us we could trust you. Come, come, right this way; you’ll want to meet the king.”
Several questions swirl in Sasha’s mind; before they can give voice to any of them, however, they’re being dragged into the castle. The crossbow guard gives them a respectful nod as they go; Sasha just looks at him in bewilderment. And then they’re passing through grand hallways filled with all the decorative grandiose that should be expected from a royal palace.
She tries to think of a single question to settle on; her brain decides to pick the one that’s the most useless to her. “Why would the king be up so late at night?”
“Oh, he does this a lot,” the newt replies cheerfully, seemingly very excited that they get to bring a human to Newtopian royalty. “He says he doesn’t sleep well sometimes, so he stays up and works on all his ideas for bettering the city. We’re lucky to have such a wise king, truly.”
“Uh huh,” Sasha says, skeptical. “And why do I have to meet him first? Can’t I go see my friend?”
The guard shakes their head. “No, silly, your friend is probably with him as we speak! I’m doing you a favor here! They work with him on his plans all the time; that’s kinda the point of being his advisor.”
“They’re his what? ”
“Ah, here we are!” The newt finally releases their arm (thankfully) and turns to face them. “This is the entrance to the throne room.”
Sasha gapes at the massive doors in front of them. They’re elaborately patterned with a mosaic of colors, and in the center of them lies a giant symbol resembling an amphibian hand, most likely being the city’s royal crest. One of the doors is slightly cracked—thank god, wasn’t sure how I was gonna get through those—and light spills through the opening. A faint conversation can be heard somewhere deep in the room, but it’s too muffled for Sasha to make out who those voices might belong to.
“I have to return to my post,” the guard continues. “You don’t need me for this, anyway; just go through those doors and introduce yourself to King Andrias. Make sure to bow; he likes that. You’ll be absolutely fine. He adores your human friend, and I’m sure he’ll adore you, too. Good luck!”
“Wait,” Sasha hisses, uncertain. “Are you gonna tell anyone I’m here?” Damn it, Waybright, you didn’t have to phrase it like that; now you sound guilty.
The newt puts a hand to their chest. “Oh, absolutely not! Your arrival in Newtopia won’t be announced until the king says it’s acceptable to do so. Your presence here will be kept strictly confidential in the meantime.”
Sasha exhales. “Okay.”
“You seem nice,” the newt says after a beat, unprompted. “Your friend will be thrilled to see you.” And with that, they’re gone, padding steadily down the corridor they came from.
Sasha tilts her head at their receding figure. I hope so. And then she’s turning towards the doors, mind racing. Just because I was seen doesn’t mean I can’t keep sneaking around, they reason. They decide there’s no harm in a little espionage on the king of Newtopia; that’s what they were here to do in the first place, right? If they get caught, they can just say they got lost. No big deal.
They slip silently through the opening and immediately dart behind one of the large pillars conveniently flanking the doorway. This is a little much, she thinks, inspecting the coiled structure wrapped around the stone and the intricate patterns carved into it. Must’ve taken ages to build this place. The ceiling hangs far, far above them, decorated with either stained glass or a mosaic pattern like the doors. It was hard to tell from this distance.
Sasha’s thoughts are yanked away from her observations at the sound of a bright, bubbly voice speaking at about a hundred miles per hour. Her heart jumps into her throat, her jaw drops in disbelief—because even though she’s been told that there’s a human in Newtopia, there’s no way that voice could belong to—
“Marcy,” a much deeper voice rumbles, chuckling. “Slow down! I can barely follow you.”
“Right, sorry!” Marcy chirps, and at the sound of their laugh, Sasha’s eyes well up with tears. “I can’t help it! This stuff is just so exciting! ”
“Marbles,” Sasha whispers, voice cracking. She peers around the edge of the pillar as slowly as she can, and sure enough, there they are, bouncing on the balls of their feet with their back to her, talking animatedly to what was probably the biggest amphibian in this entire dimension, who was lounging in his throne and smiling warmly down at them. “It’s really you.” It takes all of their willpower not to rush forward and tackle them in a hug; god, had they missed them.
The king’s laughter reverberates around the room again, reminding Sasha of what she was here to do: spy. “You humans are such a treat,” Andrias says. “But please remember to take this seriously! The glory of Newtopia depends on it.”
“Of course,” Marcy replies, nodding furiously. “You can count on me.”
Sasha’s eyes narrow in confusion. Count on you for what?
Their friend puts a hand on their chin, foot tapping absentmindedly. “It really just depends on when all the pieces come together,” they continue. “Anne and Sasha, I mean. One of them’s got to have the box, too; after all three of us are reunited, charging the stones should be easy. And then we’re good to go!”
At the mention of her name, Sasha suppresses a tiny gasp. It takes a moment for her to realize that what she’s feeling is relief; she supposes a considerable part of her had been expecting Marcy to forget about her. Well, they muse, maybe I can unpack that later.
“Perfect,” the king replies. “Remember to bring the box straight to me once it’s fully charged. Newtopian technology is especially suited for it; it would be dangerous for you to try and operate it yourself.”
Oh, Sasha thinks. Their confusion evaporates in one fell swoop, and their chest swells with some unrecognizable emotion. They’re working on getting us all home. The thought of home isn’t something that sits well with her. Of course, this wasn’t about how much she wanted to avoid going back—this was about the safety of her friends.
“Anne,” she whispers, nearly involuntarily. She knew Marcy could have a rocky relationship with their parents at times, but—oh, she can’t imagine how Anne must feel right now, being separated from her family.
Marcy’s nodding again. Then, suddenly, they’re pacing to and fro. Sasha catches a glimpse of their face as they do so; her heart aches with the sight of it. Stop talking with the king already; we should be catching up right now, not doing whatever this is.
“Oh, I’ve gotta ask,” Marcy squeaks excitedly. “What are the other dimensions like? Have you ever been to them? How many are there?”
Sasha’s eyebrows shoot straight to their hairline. There’s even more dimensions?
Andrias lets out another one of those chuckles. “Patience, kiddo. All in due time.” He grins, though, looking like someone about to give a dog a treat. “But yes, I’ve seen them for myself,” he adds with a wink. “They’re spectacular.”
Their friend hops up and down. “I can’t wait! It’s gonna be so fun! ”
The king raises a brow, letting a bit of skepticism creep into his expression. “Just know that it won’t be entirely safe, even if I’m with you,” he warns. A pause, then: “And how do you know your friends will want to travel at your side?”
Confusion has seeped back into Sasha’s mind; this conversation was starting to make less and less sense. Why would the Newtopian king want to go to Earth with them? Another emotion sits in the pit of their stomach, but they’re not sure what it is.
“Well,” Marcy starts, sounding just a bit apprehensive. “They might not want to at first. But—don’t worry, it’s totally fine; I’ll convince them. After all, this is multiple adventures we’re talking about—once we charge the stones together, they’ll see how fun it could be! And this is just the beginning!”
Dread. The emotion Sasha’s feeling is dread.
“It is just the beginning,” Andrias echoes. The delight on his face puts Sasha on edge. Something is very, very wrong. “Our conquests will be magnificent. All those worlds, available for your little friend quests at any time. It’ll be more than you can even dream of!”
“Sasha and Anne won’t be able to say no,” Marcy agrees, a sickening confidence in their voice. Sasha thinks she could count the stars in their eyes. She’s not sure if she wants to. “The three of us together until the end of time! Man, who would’ve thought?”
Sasha’s heart drops to the bottom of their boots. The realization sets in alongside some sort of steady, aching agony: we’re not going home, are we?
Bile rises lightning-quick in their throat; they move to step back further behind the pillar again, unable to bear seeing Marcy’s expression. Their foot scrapes against the stone; they freeze. Marcy and Andrias immediately go silent. Sasha closes their eyes and swallows.
“Did you hear that?” The king’s voice is low, threatening. Sasha realizes (perhaps too late) that her boot is sticking out a little from the pillar; she hastily draws it back in. There’s a long beat of silence in which all she can hear is the blood roaring in her ears.
“No, I didn’t hear anything,” Marcy eventually replies. They sound distracted. “Maybe you should sleep? It’s late, anyway.”
Andrias sighs, and with that, the tension drains out of his voice. “I suppose you’re right.” Sasha feels the slight shake in the floor when he stands from his throne and walks down the steps. “We can discuss some finer details tomorrow. For now, you should think about getting rest, too.”
“Of course,” Marcy’s voice responds, ever obedient. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” the king returns. The floor shakes more as he approaches the doors; Sasha slowly shuffles around the base of the pillar to avoid his line of sight. He stops perilously close to their hiding spot, and they don’t dare to take a single breath. After pausing for long enough to make Sasha’s lungs feel like they’re going to burst, he finally exits, footsteps fading down the corridor until they’re completely inaudible.
“Alright,” Marcy hisses, making Sasha jump. “Who’s there?”
Sasha stays silent, eyes wide. They’re still theoretically outside of Marcy’s line of sight; their heart cracks the barest amount when they realize they prefer it that way. They debate waiting this out until Marcy gets frustrated and leaves. But—what about all that she had heard? What was going on? Surely she must have misunderstood something—there’s no way Marcy was actually planning to trap the three of them far away from home… right?
Marcy huffs. “Come on, I saw your foot earlier.” Their voice is insistent; Sasha curses under their breath. No, there would be no waiting Marcy out. “I know you’re there. Just come out; I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. I kept you out of the king’s way, didn’t I?”
You did, Sasha thinks. Alright, maybe you are on our side after all. She takes a deep breath, steels herself, and steps out from behind the pillar. “Hey, Mar-Mar,” she says sheepishly, rubbing her arm. “Miss me?”
Marcy gapes.
Sasha starts approaching them, hoping they can weasel their way out of the fact that they had just been listening in. “Look, I wasn’t trying to spy on you guys,” they start. Liar, their mind croons. “I just heard your voice, and I—”
They don’t have a chance to finish their sentence before Marcy barrels into them, nearly knocking them both over. Their hands dig into her back, clutching desperately, and they bury their face in the crook of her neck. The fluff of their hood tickles Sasha’s cheek. “I missed you,” they mumble. Sasha’s breath catches in her throat. “So much."
Hesitantly, she raises her arms to hug them back. How are you okay with me right now? Almost unconsciously, their thumb traces little circles in between their shoulder blades, pressing through the fabric of their cloak. “I did, too,” they whisper back. “But you’re here now. And I’m here.”
Marcy nods, not budging. Sasha lets them hold her for a while longer; she’s not sure how much time’s passed before they finally pull back. They look at each other for a bit, soaking each other in—god, it really was good to see a friendly face.
“So,” Marcy begins, drawing out the vowel in that awkward little tone of voice that they couldn’t seem to help but use. The familiarity of it all makes Sasha’s heart ache so much it hurts. “Before we get to the fun stuff, uh… how much of all that did you hear, anyway?”
Too much, Sasha thinks, trying to hide the devastation in their smile. “Oh, I heard you guys say something about other dimensions,” they say instead. They hope their nonchalance comes off as genuine. “What was that about?”
Marcy’s laugh sounds like it misses a few beats. “Oh, that,” they reply, waving a hand in the air. “King Andrias is really into hypothetical stuff like that. And you know me; so am I! We kinda get carried away with our talks sometimes.” Their brows bunch together almost imperceptibly. They’re nervous. “But, to be fair, look at this place! I never even thought this sort of thing could be possible!”
“Neither did I,” Sasha remarks softly. Her eyes search theirs. Please, Marcy, they beg internally. Let me know I can trust you right now. “It’s been crazy; that’s for sure.”
Marcy nods enthusiastically. “It’s been amazing.” They hesitate, then look away. “Speaking of… do you happen to have that weird music box? If it brought us here, it can probably help us leave.”
Sasha shrugs. “Nope,” they answer. “Anne’s gotta have it if you don’t.”
“That would make sense.” Marcy picks at their nails, and Sasha’s heart sinks. They only do that when they’re anxious. “We should try to find Anne right away, then.” They blink. “To make sure we can get home sooner,” they add rather hastily.
“Right,” Sasha says, slow, cautious. “And the king doesn’t know about the box at all, right? That might be dangerous.”
Marcy hesitates for a split second. “No, he doesn’t.”
Something in Sasha cracks wide open. The person in front of them suddenly becomes all too unfamiliar; they feel like a ravine is cleaving the ground between them, and their instincts all but scream at them to back away from the edge. Her hand drops to the hilt of the sword strapped to her side like she’s on autopilot. Marcy’s eyes follow the movement and then flash up to meet Sasha’s own; fear glints in their pupils, a deer caught in headlights. The room is unbearably silent.
“Sash—”
“Why are you lying to me, Marcy?”
They swallow. “I’m not,” they protest, voice weak.
“Come on, Mar,” Sasha begs. “We don’t have to do this. I heard everything; you’re not gonna fool me.”
Marcy’s eyes narrow. “Then why were you acting like you only heard some of it?”
“Because I don’t want to believe it!” Anger bubbles in Sasha’s chest; they know that this isn’t going to end well. “I don’t wanna believe that one of my best friends would intentionally keep us from going back home, but here we are!”
“You don’t get it,” Marcy pleads. Sasha swears she can see tears sparkling in their eyes. “I was about to move out of state, I—my parents, they wouldn’t listen to me—I can’t just leave you guys like that, I could never— ”
“You—what? It doesn’t mean the solution is to trap us in an alternate dimension!” One of Sasha’s hands digs into her hair, tugging in frustration. “You knew what that box would do, didn’t you?”
“I—” Their friend winces, glancing at the floor. “Yeah. I did.”
Sasha seethes. Her growing fury is choking her, making her throat close up, making it near impossible to communicate. “God, Marcy!” they spit out. “How could you?”
“Listen, Sash, calm down—”
“No,” they growl, dropping their voice. “You don’t get to use your parents as an excuse here. You know how bad it is for me, don’t you?”
Marcy shakes their head. “Don’t do this,” they urge. A tear slips down their cheek.
“My parents are divorced. Remember that? I don’t have shit back home, but I still wouldn’t do something like—”
“Then why do you care? ” Marcy bursts out, their temper slipping. “Why does it matter if you can’t get back home? We all know how much you hate it there; I might as well be doing you a favor!”
The words are like a slap to the face. Sasha reels in disbelief. “Shut up,” she hisses. Rage clouds her thoughts. “Shut up.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Marcy cries. “We don’t have to fight! Just—be a little more open-minded here, it’s not as bad as you think—”
“Oh, I’m plenty open-minded right now,” Sasha fires back. “And you know what I’m thinking of?” Marcy stares helplessly at them; Sasha glares. “Anne.”
Their friend stays silent.
“How do you think she’s gonna feel about all of this once she finds out, huh?” No answer. “She has a home to get back to. She has parents that love her and are probably worried out of their minds right now. You really think she’s gonna want to live out whatever fantasy you have in your head?”
“No,” Marcy admits, miserable.
“Exactly.” Sasha scoffs. “I can’t believe you weren’t even gonna tell me.”
“I would’ve at some point! Please, Sasha—”
They raise a hand, cutting them off. “No. I don’t have to listen to this. I’m leaving.”
“What? ” Marcy reaches out; Sasha steps back. “You—you can’t, I just got you back—”
“I’m going to find Anne, and we’re gonna get the hell out of here.”
“No,” they nearly yell. “You’re gonna mess everything up, don’t—”
Sasha barks out a laugh. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it? I’m not letting you go through with whatever plan you’ve got; you’ll just have to learn to deal with it.” She turns on her heel, furious, shaking with pent-up energy. Her heart cracks with each step away from Marcy—turn back around, it begs. Go back, don’t leave them behind, stay with them, comfort them, help them through this mess—
A click sounds from behind them. They stop dead in their tracks, dismay settling into their bones. They know that sound. When she turns, she’s met with the sight of Marcy Wu aiming a crossbow at her, trembling.
“I can’t let you go,” Marcy says. Their voice is low and just as shaky as the rest of their body. “I won’t let you take the only friend I have left.”
“So that’s what this is, is it?” Sasha’s hand falls a second time to the hilt of their sword. “Was it about her this entire time?”
Marcy doesn’t answer, and their aim doesn’t waver. Their silence screams yes; their eyes scream no.
Sasha eyes the arrow pointed at them and calmly meets Marcy’s gaze. “You wouldn’t.”
“I dunno, Sash,” they counter. There’s an unsettling lack of emotion in their words. “I think it’d be best for you not to push it.”
“Yeah?” Sasha draws their sword in one smooth motion. The metal glints in the dim light. “You really wanna face off against a lieutenant?”
Marcy’s expression shifts in the tiniest bit of surprise; then it’s back to the mask they’d allowed to take over their features. They say nothing.
“Let me go.”
Marcy shakes their head. Tears well in their eyes, an odd contrast to their stony demeanor.
Sasha steps closer, hefting their sword, hoping they can just use these foolish intimidation tactics until they’re allowed to leave. “Marcy—”
She feels the pain before she can even register that Marcy’s arrow has been shot. The point of it swipes across their right cheek, cutting a gash before continuing its path and sticking in the side of the very pillar they’d been hiding behind before. They gasp and clutch at their face; they nearly drop their sword. They don’t even realize that Marcy’s jumped back and climbed a ways up the steps to Andrias’s throne until they look up and see them towering above them, aiming another arrow.
“What are you doing? ” Sasha snarls. She can’t keep the rawness out of her words now; the rage in her being is white-hot. “Is this some sort of joke?”
Marcy doesn’t reply; they just fire their crossbow again. Sasha’s ready this time, and she brings her sword in front of her right before the arrow would’ve struck her in the shoulder. It’s heavy when it deflects against the metal; she flinches. Holy shit.
The shadow of a startled expression passes over Marcy’s face before it hardens again. “You’re not about to ruin what I’ve worked so hard for,” they call down at her.
I don’t want to fight you, Sasha’s mind screams. Please, I don’t want to do this—
An arrow whistles by their side; an intentional miss. “So I’m not letting you leave. Back down, and I won’t have to hurt you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Sasha spits back. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
Marcy hums, their eyes settling on the blood dripping from Sasha’s cheek. “Whatever you say.”
That sets her off. With a shout, Sasha charges, zig-zagging back and forth until she’s reached the bottom of the stairs. Marcy fires arrows as fast as they can load them; Sasha dodges most of them, deflecting the ones they can’t move quick enough to avoid. Each strike against their blade makes their heart spike. What’d he do to you, Marcy? Did he get into your head? An arrow grazes their shoulder, and they hiss; it hadn’t hit as deep as the one across their face, but it stings.
Marcy fumbles when they try to ready their crossbow again; Sasha takes the opportunity to fly up the steps, blinded with rage. Marcy’s eyes meet theirs and widen. They seem to have frozen in place.
“We’re done here,” Sasha yells, and with that, she uses the momentum from her charge to strike them with the hilt of her sword, squarely in their chest.
The air leaves Marcy’s lungs in a wheeze, and they topple, crashing back into the stairs. The back of their head hits one of them; they groan, dazed. Sasha stands in front of them, breathing heavily. A drop of blood falls from her cheek and onto her sword.
“We’re done here,” she repeats. Her voice is dangerously quiet. Marcy’s stare is unfocused. Their eyes follow the sharp point of the weapon inches from their face.
I’m not gonna do anything to you, Sasha wants to tell them. They don’t say that. They don’t say anything at all; they just turn and walk away, the metal of their boots clinking against the throne steps, the sound of it echoing around the room. She reaches those intricate doors and stops. Her mouth opens, tangled emotions ready to spill out and spread their broken wings. Her voice does nothing; her words stay trapped, birds in cages. She walks through the doors.
Marcy doesn’t follow them.
***
“Thanks for showing me the way.”
“No problem,” their newt friend from earlier replies, albeit nervously. “Did you, uh—do you want a bandage…? For the…?” They gesture at their own face.
“No,” Sasha returns flatly. “And, by the way, don’t tell the king I was here.”
“You didn’t meet him?”
Sasha readjusts their pack on their shoulders. “Didn’t have time.”
“Right, well, um—” The guard scratches at their neck. “It would be against my protocol to keep this a secret. I’ll have to tell him you were in Newtopia; I’m sorry.”
“Alright,” Sasha says, nodding. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled that you found a human, didn’t bring them directly to him, and instead let them go. Yeah?”
The newt pales. They open their mouth.
“And don’t try to stop me from leaving. No offense, but I’d crush you.”
They close their mouth.
“So, do we have a deal?” Sasha taps her foot impatiently. “You make sure that you and that other guard keep quiet about me, and I stay out of your hair. Or, uh, whatever the newt equivalent of that is.”
The guard swallows. “Okay.” They gesture at the coastline in front of where they were both standing. They had brought her through a tunnel hidden at the back of the castle, leading under the city walls and out to the water, so that the gates wouldn’t have to be opened for her at night. Red moonlight washes over their figures. “Easiest way is straight forward to the grass; it’s pretty shallow.” They pause, then sigh. “Man, I was really hoping you’d stay.”
Sasha’s expression softens, but she’s already turned away from them. Only the moon is witness to her heart splintering. “I was hoping that, too.” And then she’s trudging forward, leaving Newtopia behind.
It doesn’t take long for her to reach the grass, but she continues, climbing up the low cliffside and stopping at the edge of the vast expanse of swamp that she’d come to loathe. They look over their shoulder at the tunnel exit. The newt is gone.
Sighing, Sasha sets her pack down and sits, the grass being just as delightfully dry as it had been earlier. She closes her eyes and rubs at her temples. Earlier. How’d all this happen in one day?
Their thumb catches some of the blood on their face when they lower their hands. They stare at it, and something in their stomach lurches. They pull out their sword and hold their thumb next to the blood spatter on the metal. Her emotions have always been violently intense, but she’s pretty sure none of her past experiences can hold a candle to the way she’s being ripped apart at the seams now. Her head spins; her vision blurs with sudden, aggressive tears.
They set their sword on the ground and pull a cloth out of their bag; carefully, as if it might shatter into pieces in their hand, they clean the blade. They can’t even comprehend that it’s their own blood being spilt—can’t comprehend that their best friend would slice them open. They’re being manipulated. Her grip on the cloth tightens. There’s no way they actually want this for us.
Almost as if she wants to punish herself, she brings the cloth to her cut abruptly, wincing when she pushes too hard. It stings more than they thought possible—they’ll have a pretty nasty scar once it heals.
They glance up at the stars, then down at the city. “I’m not done with you, Marcy,” they murmur, blurring the line between a promise and a prayer. “I’m getting you out of here, no matter how much you want to lash out at me.” They breathe in; their heart pounds. They breathe out.
And this time, it’ll end differently.