Post by Admin on Feb 26, 2015 16:59:00 GMT -5
Zatara
Issue #5: “Green Party”
Story and Art by Hushicho
Edited by Mark Bowers
Issue #5: “Green Party”
Story and Art by Hushicho
Edited by Mark Bowers
A dozen or more guards stood in a semicircle, guns trained on the little group of four figures there in the dark, cold swamp. Long shadows stretched behind them from the bright floodlights shining on them.
John leaned heavily on Zatanna. He tried to hide the pain behind his usual steely facade, but even though the bullet wound had already healed, that didn't erase the feeling of it. He simply didn't have the same strength he used to; Zach took care of that.
And that same Zachary Zatara hovered just above the ground, bell-shaped golden helm shimmering with all the brightness around it and upon it, blue and gold costume clinging to his form, cape billowing behind him in the breeze sweeping from the water.
Eddie's tail curled around his waist tightly. His jaw set, expression stoic, it all hid the furious racing of his mind. Could he risk teleporting them all out to safety? He had never heard of the wraithlike man currently speaking at them, but something about him disgusted Eddie.
It wasn't his appearance; he had the look of a man who had been burned horribly and only partially healed, the process half-complete. But a tragic accident could not make someone exude such a powerful aura. An evil aura.
Magic always tended to blur the lines, and his time as a costumed adventurer had already educated Eddie more than adequately on the scales of right and wrong. Good and evil were not absolutes, but instead dependent upon a number of contributing factors. Intent, motivation, goal, situation, method...all of them illustrated the matter to clarity.
Nothing good existed within this man, this Anton Arcane. No potential for beneficence, nothing even relatively positive shone from inside him. He stood before them like a streak of pitch, bending anything bright down into the bottomless pit of terror that was his soul.
Before anything else could be said, as fingers tightened on triggers, Zach – or Fate, more accurately – simply gestured, flinging their opponents several feet back, bullets spraying into the air in a burst and missing everything but open sky and a branch or two.
Yet Arcane remained standing, pushed back at least two feet from where he'd stood a second earlier. A sickening grin twisted across his features.
“I'll see you in hell, Fate – my hell! For you!”
With another simple gesture, a sweep upwards of his golden glove, Fate vanished, taking the other three with him.
“You won't escape this swamp a second time!” Arcane's eyes widened, wild and horrific, full of maddening depths.
Whatever he had witnessed in his days, whatever his experiences, all of it contributed to the festering decay emanating from within the scraps remaining of his soul. He drew his pistol and fired into the air.
“You! Secure the house. I'm releasing the Un-Men.”
The guards rushed to do as directed. They all scattered aside, none wishing to be caught in his path. None wishing to see or be near the Un-Men.
And the Un-Men: strange fusions of man and animal, neither and both at the same time. They could have merged the best of both and been beautiful, graceful, the next step for sentient life. With the touch of Arcane and his preternatural taint, they instead represented a step back and terrible horrors of things that should never exist.
The alarm sounded, the doors of the cells slid up, opening to the swamp outside. Arcane wore a nauseating grin on his gnarled face, teeth uneven and eerie, eyes catching the flashes of red from the lights around him. He never tired of this. Never.
“Lose yourselves in the swamps if you like, Fate. And once lost, it will be the Un-Men that discover you. Or that mindless brute beyond even my control. You never have tamed him, or destroyed him...I doubt you even can, for all your vaunted power!”
His twisted laughter echoed even above the sounds of the repeating alarm, above the sounds of boots trampling on carpet and wood, deep into the trees, to linger there.
*****
This time found them in a cellar, dark and damp. It was always a foolish decision to have a cellar in a swamp house, and it was a miracle this one still existed even as intact as it was. But even here, the swamp had begun its advance. It intruded between the stones and concrete, creeping up the wood of the shelves and boxes, shut down in the place and forgotten over years of neglect.
Instantly Eddie turned to the figure he knew as Doctor Fate. “Zach – it's me. You've got to remember. I don't know what's happened exactly, but I got thrown all the way here, that night in the swamp. With Solomon Grundy. You've got to remember.”
“Of course I remember.” This time, the voice echoed less. Zatara reached up and pulled the helm off.
Underneath, it was still the same Zach. Almost, anyway: he'd aged a little. His hair longer, features fuller, and that not-quite-suited goatee.
Eddie had to smile, just seeing the familiar face that had taken so long to find in this alien future, removed from anything he really knew. He recognized all the elements, but whatever faces they wore, they weren't the same beneath the surface.
“That beard looks ridiculous.” The devil chuckled, despite himself, and his vision fogged.
Zach smirked, helm under his arm now. “Does it now. I don't recall you being around to stop me when I thought about growing it.”
“Good job not blowing our atoms from here to the last frozen circle.” Rough as usual, John's voice rang out from the other side of the room. “Though not for lack of wanting to.”
Silently Zach passed the gleaming gold helmet off to Eddie's waiting hands, wading through the ankle-deep water. His face remained utterly impassive, like a mask made of porcelain. He breathed so slowly that, even in skintight blue, it remained almost imperceptible.
Maybe things could be patched up between them. Whatever misunderstanding had caused things to happen, those two could surely move past it. They'd been friendly enough for Zatanna to think they were quite something together, Eddie reflected, after all.
He didn't even see the quick movement, but in an instant a sound like a dull whipcrack cut across the room. Zatara's gloved hand hovered beside him, and Constantine flew to the floor like a soggy sack of potatoes.
“Zach, stop!” Zatanna scrambled for John, raising her hand before her. “Dleihs!”
“If I'd wanted your atoms scattered, they wouldn't be in the shape they're in.” Zach's eyes...something was so different about them. The glint of gold sparkled from their edges, like the edge of a knife. “Remember that.”
He turned back to Eddie, gesturing once, and the helm returned to his hands.
All Eddie could do was look upon the scene, breaking a little bit inside at how it unfolded. “But Zach...why? What even happened? No one will tell me...now I'm asking you. Tell me what happened.”
“A lot of stupid assumptions and a mess that ended up with what you see here.” Zach answered easily enough, though his tone reflected a distance unlike the man the devilish hero knew. “You disappered when Solomon Grundy wrecked our boat, yes? I remember that clearly. What followed was one of the most vicious battles I'd ever seen, waged on every level it is possible to fight. The physical clash barely factored.”
“Don't–” John coughed, trying to get to his feet with Zatanna's help.
“You've done enough harm, Constantine. Silence.”
A gesture from Zatara created an ankh-shaped pulse of light flaring from John's mouth and illuminating it shimmering and golden. The man clearly tried to speak, but he could produce no sound.
Zach calmly continued, without so much as turning to survey the product of his spellcasting. “As usual, by design or by accident, we were kept in the dark about the true nature of the whole situation. This is a special swamp.”
Eddie's expression shifted slowly to that of a frown. “Does...this have to do with the Green? Zatanna told me about a network called the Green.”
“Yes.” Zach hissed the reply. “This swamp is the pet battleground for the Green. Anton Arcane isn't just any asinine moustache-twirling maniac. Solomon Grundy isn't just a rampaging monster. And John Constantine didn't get away without a scratch. You don't shove your hand into the swamp and not get a little dirty.”
Zatanna took a step back, and for the first time, the pieces fit together in her mind. “John...you don't mean...”
The glow from around Constantine's mouth faded in a shower of sparkles, and he cleared his throat. “A-hem. I was telling the truth when I said Zach was responsible for how I am now.”
“Tell them why.” Zach cut in.
John gave a heavy sigh, folding his arms over his chest. He would have liked to just say something, anything, and be done with it. What did it matter now? They were sending Eddie back. This whole scenario would cease to exist. Nothing mattered except that.
“Because I'd eaten enough of the Green that it started eating me.” He sighed and rolled his head to the side, neck muscles flexing just under the skin...a verdant emerald pulse coursing over it, veiny tendrils showing openly at his jaw, reaching up with thin little fingertips towards his eyes, now glowing a soft green again as before. “I cocked up. There's another avatar of the Green. The one that was supposed to be there. But things went pear-shaped.”
“And we all know how wild the magic of the Green is.” Zach added, gaze still trained on Eddie. “The Green has a kind of awareness, just like any other magical essence. Things had been disrupted. Its champion was not where he should've been, and a certain Mr. Constantine had the convenient ability to be exactly where he needed at the time he needed. Energies shifted. But that led to something else.”
“Bell-head over there.” John smirked, though he could hardly hide the exhaustion in his eyes. “The Lords of Order and the Lords of Chaos became interested. Of course, they'd all love to screw over the Parliament of Trees, and the feeling is mutual.”
Eddie's frown deepened, and he shook his head and hands. “Don't overcomplicate this. Look...I don't really care about all these politics. They sound like they're about as dumb as human world politics.” His tail slowly curled behind him. “All I want to know is what I need to do when you get me back to where I'm supposed to be. How I can make sure this never happens.”
Zach lifted the helm and then lowered it onto his head again. “Arcane is close to finding you. I'm going to have to distract him. As for the answer to your questions...ask Constantine.”
In another ankh-shaped burst of energy, Zatara disappered again.
John flicked his tongue over his lips, looking almost nervous at the attention. All eyes in the room settled onto him.
“The only way back is through the Green,” he finally offered. “And it's not going to be easy. Those Parliament of Trees sorts...they're not good news. You're right – they can be just as stupid as human politics. Usually they're even nastier. Imagine bureaucracy stunted for a hundred years like that's a few minutes.”
Eddie set his jaw and nodded once. “What do we need to do? I'm ready.”
“Sprout, you may never be ready for this. But you're all we've got, unless you want to live through point A to right now in real time.” Constantine grew greener with every passing moment. “We've got one chance and one chance only.” He turned to Zatanna, features softening. “Darling, you know I always appreciated everything you did for me. I've been saving the last of my will up for now. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you all of it.”
“That's our John, keeping the important parts of the story to himself, right up to the end. If I didn't care, I would've left you to whatever happened.” The corners of her mouth turned up, just slightly. “I take it I'm going to be doing the heavy lifting?”
John laughed softly and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yeah. Make sure our lad here passes like a greased suppository through the Green. Don't worry about me.” He leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
But she turned her head to catch his lips and pressed into them, fingers sliding along his cheeks, up over his temples, regardless of the tendrils and green spreading across his form. She knew, she had to know, that he was telling her he wasn't getting out of this alive, or at least not as the same person she knew and maybe even loved.
This was the end. Just as she had said. Maybe it could turn into another beginning.
“Are we...doing this here?” Eddie watched as John slid his trenchcoat off and handed it to Zatanna.
Constantine shrugged, rolling up his sleeves. “Good a place as any. You're not coming out anywhere close to here after all. Get ready, this won't take long.”
As he started chanting under his breath, Zatanna began speaking, directing her hands at Eddie. Her aura shone jewel-brilliant with mystic energy, the backwards syllables forming a kind of celestial harmony with John's quieter, deeper drone.
Eddie felt it wash over him, and at the first wave it seemed like the walls melted away. He could see more than just cold, ancient stone and dribbling water. The colors weren't quite right...or maybe they were right, and most of the rest of the time his eyes had always seen them wrong.
Only now could he see the full breadth of Fate's powers, or what he imagined to be a fuller idea of them: the world itself warped and bent to his fingers as he clashed with Anton Arcane, who now had transformed into what he quickly labeled “Mr. Hyde” – a twisted ruddy monstrosity with knobby talons for fingers and the face of a true abomination. Reality twisted around him too, but into something unnatural and terrible.
Magic for Eddie had always been more like a little sparkle, a tiny twinkle of purplish glittering light, and then whatever was supposed to happen just happened. He wondered if these visions were how Zach saw the universe. It was so beautiful, beyond any experience he'd ever had. The colors didn't normally exist for him, he had no way to refer to them. Everything shifted, but everything shifted as one entity, one thing, all connected.
He could see John and Zatanna. Every syllable that passed the man's lips, he looked more like the rest of the swamp. Then, just as he threatened to disappear entirely from what he'd been, his voice spoke perfectly clear English.
“Get to safety, love. You too, sprout.”
With the faintest rustling of leaves, Zatanna vanished in a hail of shimmering lights, but Eddie could see that she'd been borne away by the gentle hands of some blossoming magic. Then the leaves completely filled Eddie's hearing. John burst into bloom, vines shooting out over the cellar, up through the house.
The voice of Zach, resonant from the magic of Doctor Fate, whispered in the devil-boy's mind.
“Stop me from growing this stupid goatee.”
Everything shot past like scenery to a bullet train. Eddie felt his stomach turn upside-down. His clothes rippled around him and then, as they had done before -- quite beyond his perception -- they melted away like sugar in water, tugged away by the forces he didn't know. He breathed deep, filling his lungs, and all he could feel, all he could taste was the Green around him. It tasted green. It was green in every way that green could be, even more than any green he had known. He understood the reasoning behind its name.
As if it were the end of the tunnel hurtling towards him, Eddie glimpsed that moment in time, suspended like a fly in amber: Zach in midair summoning his magic, Constantine's items scattered in the moonlight as he sailed into the water, and Solomon Grundy visiting destruction upon their boat. He could feel his familiar shorts on him, what amounted to his comfortable if minimal costume around him, as if the clothes had waited for him, suspended at that instant.
First things first, he resolved, and as he emerged into the cold night air, he glided above the swamp and snatched Zach with one arm, interrupting his spell. Next he gathered Constantine with his tail, pulling him along and leaving Grundy alone, a short distance away by the time Eddie set them down on the plant-covered shore.
John scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling into the bog-mud. “Eddie! What're you doing, you–”
Then, suddenly, everything turned green, bright as the noonday sun. Roots crashed up through the water, pushing Grundy back and whipping around each other, forming a mass that gradually took a more humanoid appearance. Its eyes opened, fiery with life and the vibrant breath of the Earth itself.
A fist twisted itself into being, and it drew back and then hammered into Solomon Grundy, sending him flying. The figure moved faster than anything its size should have been able, in pursuit.
Eddie could see the threads, the runners of life and the Green around them, but they slowly faded from his sight as the two massive fighters retreated into the darkness. Night settled back onto the swamp, with only the more and more distant sounds of battle retreating into the inscrutable depths of the vegetation.
Zach picked himself up and brushed himself off, smiling in a self-satisfied way. He picked a dead leaf from his sleeve. “Well, that went better than I thought. Thank you, Eddie.”
In the next second, he found himself squeezed by the devil-boy's arms around him, as tight as he'd ever experienced. “Eddie...?”
John started to open his mouth to make some remark, half a grin already fighting across his face, but then Eddie yanked him into a hug as well.
The other two, stunned in surprise by the enthusiasm of emotion, stared at their friend. The only sound, for at least a solid minute, was the babbling of water against the soil.
“Are you...crying?” Zach absently patted himself and then reached into his coat, producing a handkerchief.
Gently Eddie took it and wiped his eyes, his cheeks, and returned the monogrammed cloth. “I've got a long story to tell you, but I want to tell Zatanna too.” Even with tears welling anew in his eyes, he couldn't stop smiling. “Don't grow a stupid goatee, Zach.”
The magician's brows lifted in something of surprise. “I...hadn't considered doing that, but I certainly will rule it out if it should occur to me?”
John finally lit the cigarette he'd wanted to smoke for the better part of an hour. “That what you had an epiphany about? Not that you didn't get us out of there at the right time, but...”
“And you.” Eddie's expression went deadly serious as he turned. “Don't touch the Green. Don't dabble with it. Don't dally with it. Don't think about it. It will grab you, and it doesn't let go.”
Constantine almost dropped the cigarette, but he managed to hold onto it. He brought it to his lips and sucked down nearly half of it in one go, hand trembling for a moment. “Right,” he replied, in a small voice. “Guess you do have a story.”
*****
In an hour's time, in the warm and dry parlor at Shadowcrest, the group sat in the circle of furniture, sipping hot toddies. A fire crackled in the hearth nearby, the only illumination of the room.
Eddie had not allowed more than ten feet to pass between himself and Zach since the swamp. He leaned heavily against the magician, tail wrapped like a belt around the other man's waist.
“I don't know why you felt it essential to the story to mention me in diapers,” John remarked, though more softly than normal. His toddy had been made double-strength to the others, which probably contributed to his gentle tone. “Like I don't doubt you, it's not a new experience to me, but...”
“Think of it as a cautionary tale,” Zach explained. “Unless you're just quibbling over who ended up changing you.”
Constantine pursed his lips and gave Zatara a look.
Zach could only laugh, leaning back against the cushions at the back of the seat, delicately sipping his drink. “You're almost as good as me at that. Keep practicing.”
John gave a little peal of laughter and sucked down another gulp of the hot tea and alcohol.
Even with the affectionate, friendly little quips, a palpable sobriety hung over the assembled group. None of them doubted Eddie's tale for even a moment. He may have been the least “magical” of them, but that only added more credence to his tale.
Zatanna finally broke the lingering silence, punctuated only by the occasional snap of the firewood.
“What does that mean for us now, though?”
Eddie looked up at her words. “What do you mean?”
“The Green may not have claimed John, and Zach's not Fate. But this Anton Arcane character...he's still out there. And from the sound of it, he's a nasty customer.” She looked between the two. “Should we maybe keep an eye out? Maybe go after him while we're able, stop him becoming what he was in that future?”
“I don't know.” Eddie leaned his cheek on the top of Zach's head. “I mean...it was at least ten years from now. At least. I don't know anybody named Anton Arcane right now, although I'm going to do some searching. Someone online has got to know him or something about him, somewhere. From what I could gather, Fate and Arcane had a history between them. Something before I arrived. When I was...I don't know what I can call it, but those last moments in that time, it's like I could see everything as it actually was, for once. Like the rest of my life, I'm wearing blinders.”
Zach spoke, halfway stirring from a somnolent stupor. “You saw magic clearly, or semi-clearly,” he remarked. “It says a lot about you that you're not raving about it and frothing at the mouth.” Subtly he slid his free hand around Eddie's waist and squeezed him closer.
“If that's true...” Eddie looked at Zach, easily moving closer to him, but concern still written on his features. “You were...everything, like I mean everything, bent to your will. But the Arcane guy, it was kind of the same. Except you were all brightness and light and...and you were so beautiful, and he was so horrible and dark and terrible. He was everything you weren't. He was like everything bad in the world, balled up and stuck inside a man.”
“All the more reason to find this Anton Arcane guy.” Zatanna set her all-but-emptied glass on the table beside her chair. “Anyone who can go toe-to-toe with Doctor Fate's level of power is nothing to sneeze at. He could cause problems. Big problems.”
Zach sat right against Eddie, almost holding him but not quite. He lifted his glass to his lips, taking more of the rich, potent drink. “But at the same time...the Green.”
Silence once more descended upon the assembled four. For minutes it continued, until John snorted awake and sucked down the last of his toddy, then with an incoherent, undecipherable mumbling, fell easily back to sleep again.
“I don't know a lot about this stuff.” Eddie spoke up, after that, after a time. “I'm no expert like you or Zach or Constantine, but...I feel like maybe we shouldn't tamper with the Green. Anton Arcane is a part of that world, like it or not, and...well...” He waved his free hand. “Whoever that thing in the swamp was who beat back Solomon Grundy, maybe he's on it. Maybe if we decided to go in there and do this, we'd just be messing with something we shouldn't tamper with.”
Another pause, with little crackles and pops from the wood, and then Zach spoke. “I'm inclined to agree with Eddie. Partially because I don't want to be Doctor Fate, partially because I think he's completely right. Everything I've heard about the Green makes me think that's exactly the case here. The whole reason why I...apparently became Doctor Fate and started to fight that battle stemmed from stepping out of bounds. That's what the avatar of the Green is supposed to do, not anyone else. Everything got thrown out of whack.”
Zatanna settled against the arm of her chair. “Maybe so. But maybe we should keep an eye open just in case.”
“It's always advisable to keep a watchful eye, my dear.”
The voice came from the long shadows cast by the fire, but Zatara – the elder, Giovanni “John” Zatara – stepped into the light of the embers. “You're all up late. And from what I've heard, with good reason. But you know,” he leaned down to kiss the top of Zatanna's head, “a good night's sleep is important too. Why not get some rest and tackle it in the morning? It'll still be there, trust me.”
He smiled so softly, so warmly. His face remained distinct as something from a bygone age, with his particular moustache, his hair just so, his features sleek and youthful even at his unquestionable age. His still-fit body clad in a dressing gown, he looked like he could easily don his familiar tuxedo and take up the mantle again whenever he pleased, despite his professed retirement.
Zach smiled at his uncle. “Hope we didn't keep you up.”
“No, no.” The older man answered. “I was reading. I got caught up in the story, and suddenly it was 4 AM.”
“Not too weird for us, daddy.” Zatanna pulled her father's hand closer and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “Magicians do our best work sleeping during the day and waking up at night. We're like vampires.”
The man laughed a tad bitterly and shook his head, though he didn't pull away, giving his daughter her affectionate indulgence. “There are certain and specific differences that I feel I should point out, but I'm afraid it would probably be pedantic of me. Now, Zachary and Eddie: is there anything you need? I don't wish to be a poor host.”
“No sir,” Eddie spoke up. “I'm sorry for the imposition.”
“You're always welcome here, don't be silly.” The senior Zatara half-sat along the arm of Zatanna's chair. “Of course, Constantine is another matter...”
“Daddy.” Zatanna spoke, pointedly.
He smiled and stroked her hair softly. “Just my little joke, my dear. I may be old, but that doesn't mean I've outgrown my sense of humor. He's as welcome as the rest of you. As long as he doesn't try anything he shouldn't.”
She closed her eyes as her smile widened, head resting against the man's arm again. “That's better.”
“I think it's time for me to sleep. It was so nice to see you, Mr. Zatara.” Eddie smiled to him, gently nudging the magician at his side.
Zach looked from Eddie to the others and back again. “Ah. Yes. Probably a good idea. Good night, Uncle John. Zatanna. Constantine.”
The two rose at almost the same time, each half-leaning on the other and chuckling at the realization.
They wandered off, practically as one, into the shadowed halls and up the stairs.
“Better get to bed, Zatanna. It's getting late.” The older Zatara dwelt next to her, lending his arm as her pillow. “Everyone's asleep or soon to be.”
She opened her eyes and looked up, then sat more upright in her seat. “I don't know,” she replied. “It all seems like a lot to think about. I feel like I can't let myself sleep with this on my mind.”
He reached down to help her up to her feet, smiling patiently, fatherly kindness painted on his features. “Up, up. I'll help you to your room. You'll find in time that there's precious little that can't wait until tomorrow. It always seems urgent, but there's not much that you can't help just as well the next day as you can today.”
“That sounds dangerously like procrastination,” Zatanna countered, but she rose all the same and moved with him. “I like it.”
Giovanni chuckled, arm around his daughter, as the two of them made their way up the stairs. “It's so unlike you! You're like me, when I was your age: all business, all the time. All work, never relenting...”
“I am not like you.”
“You are!” He chuckled as he walked her to the door of her room and pushed it open for her. “You're exactly like me at your age.”
“Well,” she countered, “a few subtle but important differences.”
“You don't know that. Magic is mysterious.”
Zatanna lightly smacked her father's chest and moved into the room. “Good night, daddy. I love you.”
“I love you more than anything in the world, Zatanna.” He smiled back to her and patted her cheek, drawing back to make his way down the hall to his own room. “Sleep tight.”
“You too.” She smiled to herself and shut the door, walking in darkness to her bed and pulling the cord to turn the light on.
She stretched and murmured quietly, “Sserdthgin.”
In an instant, her casual clothes vanished, to be replaced by a nightgown. She stretched out on the bed, shoving the covers back.
Even if Constantine could sleep off the concerns of the future, they gnawed at her insistently. She reached up and clicked the light off, curling up and pulling the blanket and sheets over her.
Constantine.
She couldn't get him out of her mind.
Especially the future one, the one from Eddie's story. Maybe something remained from their occasional, intermittent flings. Maybe something still lingered in her own heart for him. Admittedly, the pangs of jealousy spiked during Zach's reconciliation with the man.
But was it really jealousy, or something else?
She couldn't be sure.
Though what she felt truly sure about was that she and Constantine were better off not being in any kind of romantic bond or entanglement. Maybe she just felt the same way about John and...anyone. Zach had Eddie. He didn't need Constantine. Right?
Right?
No easy answer existed. Especially after talking with Zach by the pool.
He'd been right. Relationships were never so cut-and-dried. Maybe John filled a gap that needed to be compensated for, maybe he managed some role that none other could realize. Either way, it seemed John Constantine was here to stay.
And then she considered her own role in everything. Did Zach need her? He would say yes, she knew. Probably. If she caught him in a good mood.
But did she agree? She couldn't say decisively.
So much remained an unknown quantity. She felt herself slide into slumber, the darkness of the mind giving way to beautiful dreams.
And in these dreams, only the slightest of green showed itself, peeking from the edges of the garden.
The End
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