Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Dark smoke swirls in tight coils, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Computers cry out with electric pops, while glass containers of chemical solutions hiss until they burst, scattering sharp fragments all across the laboratory floor. Flames reflect in those fragments, while other shards reflect laboratory coats once pristine, now stained crimson.

   Fluorescent lights once washed out focused laboratory staff, detailed reports, whirring centrifuges. All that remains of the staff are still bodies sprawled over the floor or chairs. 

   Sage tinted hazel eyes squint to find exits, only to find paths blocked by flame or debris. The vents are the same, or too small to fit in. And the screens of the televisions or computers, already melted down or broken from the initial attack. All escapes, gone. 

   I’m sorry, their persona, a wolf crafted from nature named Gaia, howls, I can’t pull you into the midnight channel without a screen…

   As they weakly hold the fabric of their shirt over their nose and mouth, body shaking with muffled coughs, sweat dripping down their sienna skin… They hear a familiar song. It’s an ominous melody, something that’s slithered through their mind during the more painful experiments… During moments of desperation in their cell, clawing away at their life in a race against how quickly the scientists could get to them and subdue them.     

   Will I finally die? But, why doesn’t the thought feel as comforting as before? This time it feels… Empty. 

   Small pieces of light flicker and glow around them like fireflies. Warm memories amongst the darkness of night. Telling silly stories about constellations with someone once dear. The lullaby of rain and thunderstorms. Hushed conversation and shadow puppets in a poorly constructed blanket fort. An affectionate but sad smile, paired with dresses that moved like flower petals.  

   And for the first time, the melody reaches out with lyrics. No… Not lyrics. A voice. 

Have you finally remembered?

   The voice sounds like stormy waves and growls of thunder, of scattered lightning and icy winds. 

   Mylo Kageumi. Your life has never been touched by the sunlight, the warmth that envelops others. No, you’ve always dwelled in shadow, in the cold. 

   But, on occasion, the fireflies dance. And the moon, with her light cutting through the night… Well, how else do you expect to turn the tides?

   Are you done living as muffled static? Are you finally ready to sing again?

   Wonderful. 

   Now take my hands, and become as you are meant to be. A warning of wreckage, an omen of change.

   The world around them wobbles and gravity shifts. The air feels heavy and it’s suddenly cold. As if they were diving into icy waters. 

   We are the eye of the storm.

   Then it hits. A sharp and pulsing pain, carving deeply into their head, into their being. 

I am thou.

   It bleeds into their eyes like a malevolent migraine of icy flames. Clawing at their face, they find an edge that isn’t skin, a mask, and they begin to pull. 

   Thou art I. 

   Finally, with one last pulse of pain, they rip off the mask, and are met with overwhelming power.

   A serpentine-like mermaid calls forth, with three tails and four arms, her chest and waist covered by flowing fins that act as cloth. Where a head ought to be, is instead a swirling and breathing storm. And the melody from before? It’s far more audible now, and Mylo finds themself humming along. 

   Ah, not a mermaid. A siren.

   You may call me, Sri Kaliamman.

Chapter Text

   The first thing Mylo notices is how cold it is. Next comes the eerie sound of metal pieces hitting one another lightly, like chains. Finally, they realize that cold metal is wrapped around their ankle.

   Sage eyes wrench open, as they sit upright in a panic. The initial fear is they're somehow back in that lab. 

   One of the walls around them is made of prison bars, letting them know they're somewhere else entirely. Mylo internally sighs. Cautiously, they glance around, noticing a saturated dark blue drapes over the other side of their prison-like cell. 

   A quick clang noise startles them, bringing their attention to two small children with silver hair, peering at them from the other side of the bars.

   Uh… what?

   They each have one eye patch, while their visible eyes are colored an almost glowing yellow. One with a right eye, and the other with a left. 

   Hmm…

   "Pay attention, inmate!" One of the children commands with an almost humorous amount of authority as they hit the bars again. To be fair, Mylo supposes they aren’t exactly the most intimidating person either, when it comes to height.

   "Caroline, please," the other young girl speaks in a soft, almost soothing tone. "It's poor manners not to introduce ourselves."

   The other child, Caroline, apparently, huffs and crosses her arms with a pout. "I'm Caroline, and I won't be going easy on you! Got that?"

   The other child nods her head to gently bow, "I'm Justine. Together, we are this Velvet Room's attendants."

   Mylo, meanwhile, has been fidgeting with the chain around their ankle. Oddly easy to remove, but the bars must be more sturdy. Standing, Mylo nods a little. “Hi, um… So, that makes this,” they gesture, “the Velvet Room?” 

   Weird name… Like a night club that's really proud of its tapestry. 

   “Obviously,” Caroline snaps, “I told you to pay attention!” She moves to swing her baton again, but this time Mylo reacts, grabbing it through the bars. Their hand ends up pinched between the bar and the baton, but it’s a dull pain. Nothing they can’t handle.

   “Hey!” Caroline huffs, “Give that back, inmate!” 

   “Hang on,” Mylo sighs, then speaks quietly, “Just, stop banging it so loudly, please? I think you’re giving your friend a headache.” Releasing their hold on the baton, Mylo gestures to Justine, whose yellow eye widens slightly, hand pausing midair before getting the chance to rub her temple. 

   Caroline hesitantly glances at Justine, and sighs, “Sorry, sister.” 

   “It’s alright,” Justine smiles a little, and then nods at Mylo, “Thank you.”

   Mylo half smiles, and then their attention is pulled back to Caroline. 

   “So…” The girl is a bit quieter, but she still manages to keep her posture rigid and authoritative. “Your name, inmate?”

   “Oh,” Mylo glances between the two, “Um. Mylo.” Before either of the two girls can reply, a deep and startling voice cuts through the room, followed by new light cast over the room. Mylo tilts their head slightly, taking in the new details. An insignia of the letter “V” is carved into the center of the stone floor. Surrounding the floor in a circle, are a couple dark doorways and a few other prison cells. The strangest detail, though, is the figure seated at a desk in the very center. 

   With an unsettlingly long nose, he watches them with hands folded, and eyes that appear to have never blinked or slept in at least months. “You may call me, Igor. Welcome to my Velvet Room, Weaver.” The being, Igor, speaks in a voice so deep it feels like it should have its own gravitational force. Mylo thinks to themself, how it would be unsettling in any other place. 

   But here? Yeah, checks out. Wait, Did he say, Weaver?

   As much as they can manage from behind their cell bars, Mylo strains to pick out more details of this Velvet Room. The doorways are too dark to even guess if they lead to rooms or halls, so no guaranteed escape there. A couple of the prison cells are similarly shrouded from view, but due to their positioning rather than the lighting. Two of the cells in Mylo’s view are each inhabited by unmoving persons or person-like shaped masses. 

   “Hey, pay attention to the master,” Caroline chides, “inmate-Mylo.” Mylo half smiles at the addition of their name.

   “I have to agree,” Justine suggests. 

   Glancing at Igor, Mylo asks, “Question. Are we in the… mm… other world?”

   Igor chuckles a little, the eerily low sound reverberating in Mylo’s bones. “Rather perceptive. This place exists between dream and reality.” His hands gesture and then fold again. “But, I’ve invited you here to offer an opportunity, Weaver.”

   Mylo tenses slightly, the tone of their voice guarded. "What do you mean by 'Weaver'?"

   Caroline whispers, "Shh!"

   “There is a distortion in your world in dire need of attention. But, with the proper rehabilitation, you may become powerful enough to face this distortion and win the game.”

   Mylo repeats uneasily, "'Rehabilitation? Game?" 

   “If you are to face a threat,” Igor taps his long fingernails over the wood of his desk, “You would hope to win, would you not?”

   Mylo’s reply is a hesitant hum, as they strain to make out any features of the potential prisoners in the other visible cells. One cell is so shrouded in shadow, they can barely make out the figure's silhouette. While the other is angled so the only defining feature to be seen is dark messy hair. “Um, sorry, but, are those… people in the other cells?” Mylo asks, “Are they alright?” 

   “Pay them no mind. They are none of your concern. Now–”

   Mylo cuts him off, “But, who are they? And on that topic, why are we trapped behind these bars to begin with?” A blunt pain hits their knee. “Ow,” Mylo frowns, met with concerned expressions from the twins. 

   Caroline is especially upset, holding her baton upright with a whispered warning, “Pay attention!” 

    An unnerving crack and thunder echoes in the room as Igor clenches his hands into abnormally shaped fists. “As I was saying, accept my contract, and we shall aid you in your rehabilitation.”

   “What? No,” Mylo answers immediately. The twins both turn around to stare at Mylo with shock, but Igor’s only reaction is a low and creepy chuckle. 

   “What the hell, inmate?!” Caroline bangs her baton against her own palm to enunciate her point, “Show some respect!”

   “I would encourage you to accept the master’s deal as well,” Justine says with a concerned tone. 

   “Sorry, but no.” Mylo says firmly. “I’m not about to take a deal from someone I just met, who has me locked behind bars? And why won’t you tell me about the others in those cells?”

   “You have no need for the power I can offer?” Igor taps his fingernails on his desk again, but the rhythm feels more stiff. “The ability to make deals with shadows and take their power as your own. To fuse new ones and to wield multiple personas. To enhance your power further through confidants? Imagine the potential.” 

   “I don’t need that, no,” Mylo says firmly, “Especially not from someone who continues to dodge my questions.” The twins shift uneasily, but they don’t bother saying anything this time.       

   “Very well,” Igor ominously chuckles, and the sound feels as if it’s coming from all directions. Gravity abruptly pushes down on Mylo, making it difficult to breathe or see. They try to call upon one of their personas, but they can’t move. They can’t speak. Panic sets in as the world around them darkens dizzily.

   *

   With a sharp gasp, Mylo wakes to find themself tucked in their bed. 

   Attempting to slow their breathing, Mylo glances around the room, confirming they’re in their apartment. Rolling onto their stomach, they groan and sigh exhaustion. “What the hell did he mean by ‘distortion’… ’weaver’… ’game’?” Reaching their arm out to grab their dream notepad at their bedside, they start to scribble down some thoughts in their sleepy haze. The rushed and sloppy handwriting suggests considering checking out the metaverse, and having Sri Kaliamman perform one of their echolocation scans. 

   The remainder of the night is spent tossing and turning, until their phone alerts them of the time. 

   Mylo grumbles into their pillow, “Yay. School.” 

   The following hour is hazy, as Mylo rushes around their apartment with a mouth full of toothpaste. After triple checking their bag is packed with everything on their mental list, they quickly bound over to the bathroom. 

   “Agh!” Mylo groans, their foot somehow tripping over their bag’s strap. They barely catch themself, their head hitting a wall with a loud thud. Holding back laughter as not to spew even more toothpaste on their shirt, Mylo rests their forehead in their toothbrush-less hand. Well, at least I'm still in my pajamas…

   Once sure they aren't going to burst into a laugh that quickly becomes them choking on toothpaste, they walk a bit more slowly to the sink. Dark cranberry-violet hair frames their face with side-swept bangs and thick wavy strands falling just over their shoulders. They tie a small braid with a gold-adjacently-colored clasp. Sighing at the dark circles around their hazel eyes, they splash cold water at their warm sienna skin. Lastly, Shujin uniform, and a thin line of black eyeliner around their eyes. 

   Frowning at the reflection staring back in the mirror, Mylo tugs at their plaid skirt and maroon tights uneasily. They aren’t normally one to wear skirts or dresses, but Shujin had already sent them the typical uniform for a student assigned female at birth. 

   Shujin Academy… It’ll be the first time Mylo even steps foot into a private school. Growing up as an orphan, spending a couple weeks homeless, and now living on their own, they’ve always been used to meager means. Paying their current studio apartment’s rent is actually done with the money they manage to get from the metaverse. As far as the landlord knows, though, they actually make money as a freelance artist/ musician and part-time jobs. Ha.  

   Needless to say, Mylo is attending Shujin based on an academic scholarship. Sure, Mylo is intelligent and performs well enough in school if they try. However, they’re well aware that the real reason they’ve been given a scholarship to Shujin, is so the school can try to maintain their respectable reputation. 

   Recently, there was some sort of scandal involving a vile excuse for a teacher who abused students, one of which was so tormented they attempted to end their life on campus. Naturally, Shujin scurried to try to counteract the ‘rumors’ by hiring an educated councilor and offering scholarship to a poor orphan. 

   Double trouble. Not only am I without money, but I’m also a tragic familyless orphan. So sad. What could be better to soften their image? 

   Its history and reputation are hardly the most interesting things about Shujin. Yes, Mylo plans to take advantage of having a more credible school on their transcripts. But, the cherry on top involves how that vile gym teacher even confessed. The Phantom Thieves. 

   This incognito group somehow manipulated him to confess all of his sins unfiltered and seemingly with no other significant event, aside from that calling card found in school halls. 

   The diction on the card was especially strange. Aside from “shitty”, there was “stealing distorted desires.” It’s alarmingly familiar. Mylo has a strong feeling that the other world is somehow involved, more specifically, the metaverse. It reminds them of cognition theories, and of the cognitive psience research they’ve managed to gather and read over the past year. …The cognitive psience research that a 15 to 16 year-old Mylo was manipulated into being the main subject of. 

   Mylo’s hope is to learn more about the metaverse, to locate and understand more on the old Kirijo Group, plume of dusk, and that government cognitive psience lab that they narrowly escaped. The more Mylo learns, the closer they are to ensuring no one else ever has to endure what they and the other subjects in that lab suffered. 

   What Mylo could have never hypothesized… Meeting and befriending a messy-raven-haired teen with a cute smile, prescriptionless glasses, and a talking cat. What's funny, is the cat is more surprised Mylo understands him, than Mylo is to meet a talking cat.