Greg Caputi sits in a steel chair bolted to the ground, while a single bulb swinging from the ceiling causes the shadows to dance restlessly over the concrete floor. His body is tense, his hands gripping the armrests as though they are his last anchor to reality. Before him, a figure kneels, shrouded in a burlap sack, their identity concealed. The figure is utterly still, save for the rise and fall of their breath.

Beside them stands the man in charge—tall, imposing, his dark robe blending into the shadows. His sharp features and piercing gaze are unrelenting as he paces slowly and deliberately.

“You know why you’re here,” the man says, his calm voice echoing against the bare walls in the stark, cold room.

Greg swallows, his throat dry. “I don’t understand. Why me?”

The man stops, his gaze locking onto Greg. “You came here seeking purpose. Transformation. This is what it demands.”

Greg’s heart pounds in his chest. He looks at the kneeling figure. “What did they do?” he asks, his voice trembling.

“Their actions are not your concern. What matters is your obedience.”

Greg shakes his head, his mind racing. “You’re asking me to—” He falters. “I don’t…”

The man steps closer, towering over Greg. “This is not about understanding. It is about faith. Action. You seek meaning, yet hesitate when it stares you in the face.”

“I’m not ready,” Greg whispers.

“You are,” the man replies sharply. “Or you would not be here.”

Greg stares at the kneeling figure, his chest tightening with fear. As if sensing his hesitation, the man moves to a table in the corner. Beneath a cloth, something waits.

With a swift motion, the man pulls the cloth away, revealing a glass tank. Inside, a python coils lazily, its scales gleaming under the dim light.

Greg recoils. “What is this?” he stammers, his voice breaking. “What are you gonna…?”

The man tilts his head, as if mildly amused. “Oh,” he says casually, “wrong one.” He covers the snake again, then moves to another draped object. With a second dramatic flourish, he pulls away the cloth, revealing something entirely unexpected.

Greg stares in disbelief. “Mary Poppins,” he exclaims. “That’s… that’s my goldfish!”

Inside the glass tank, his goldfish swims aimlessly, its tiny fins flicking through the water. The sight is so absurd, so out of place in this cold, oppressive room, that Greg momentarily wonders if he’s hallucinating.

The man gestures to the tank. “If you refuse to act, you will be forced to carry your fish home. Alone.”

Greg’s stomach sinks. The tank is enormous, far too large for one person to carry. The thought of lugging it home by himself is humiliating and ridiculous, yet the man’s message is clear: refusal comes at a cost.

Greg’s eyes flick between the goldfish and the kneeling figure. His thoughts churn in chaos. He came here seeking something—a higher calling, a chance to become more than he was—but now, he feels trapped. Yet deep down, he knows the truth: to refuse is to fail, not just here but within himself.

Slowly, Greg rises from the chair. His legs feel like lead, his body trembling. Each step toward the kneeling figure feels heavier than the last. The man in charge watches silently, his gaze unflinching.

Greg kneels before the figure. His heart hammers in his chest, his hands shaking as he reaches out. In a voice barely audible, he says, “I forgive you.”

The air seems to shift as a tangible weight in the room lifts slightly. The kneeling figure exhales a ragged breath. Greg feels a strange sense of release, as though he has let go of something long buried.

The man in charge steps forward and removes the burlap sack. Beneath it is a man, his face serene, his eyes brimming with gratitude.

“You are no longer Greg Caputi,” the man says solemnly to Greg. “From this moment, you are Father Joseph.”

The words strike like a thunderclap. Greg—now Father Joseph—feels both burdened and unburdened, stripped of one identity and handed another.

The man places a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “This is what it means to serve: to act when it is hardest. To give when it costs the most. Welcome to the church.”

Father Joseph looks up, still reeling. “Who… who are you?”

“I am the Archbishop of this diocese,” the man replies simply. “And you, Father Joseph, are now a servant of its mission.”

Father Joseph turns and walks toward the door, but just as he moves, the Archbishop stops him.

“One more thing,” the Archbishop says slowly, his voice deliberate.

Joseph stops and turns. “Yes?”

The Archbishop’s gaze is steady. “Can you send in the next one, please, if you don’t mind.”

“Um, sure!” Father Joseph replies, praying he can leave now without further interruption.

In the end, they were throwing everything in the back of the truck as fast as they could. They launched dishes in boxes. Crash. They threw boxes of books. Thump. There went bags of clothes. Oomph. There was no pattern to it. No sense of order. It was moving by chaos.

And still, the apartment was too full. They were running out of time to be out, and still, it seemed like all the stuff, their stuff, would never end.

"What are we going to do?" Alice cried.

"I don't know!" Janelle shouted back. "Keep loading." She threw a lamp in the corner. It made a cracking noise.

In hindsight, they might wonder why they collected all this flotsam and jetsam only to lose it in the panic to get out on short notice. None of their carefully curated treasures would survive. Most would not. Most would be dinged or crooked or just plain broken beyond use. But still, they flung things in the back of the U-Haul with abandon.

"I can't keep doing this," Janelle shouted over the din.

"You must," Janelle said, tossing the cat pole over the couch. "We move or die."

"That's a little over dramatic, don't you think?"

"Do you want to be here when they show up?"

"No!"

"Then keep going," Janelle said, throwing a yoga mat on top of a sideways bookcase with broken knickknacks glittery on the hard truck bed floor.

"No," Alice cried.

"Yes," Janelle answered. But it was too late for her to realize fully what she had just done. The sphere of water was arcing gracefully through the air before slamming into the wall up by the truck cab.

"That's my goldfish!" Alice said.

"Was," Janelle answered, picking up Fluffy before arcing him on the same trajectory.

That’s my goldfish. Where did you find it? I lost it in the lake you poor thing. Did you try to fish it out of the water? Hope it remembers me. I think it does remember me even though goldfish has a very short term memory go back to me, it’s mine you can, sell it to somebody else. It’s got those features that it’s my look here. I’ve got the photo to prove it. I cannot depart from my goldfish. I’m gonna feel very suicidal. This is my goldfish. It’s mine.

Across all of Erliea, no jewel shone as radiantly nor as colorfully as the Ursa Bazaar.

 Thousands of luminous tent silks fluttered in the golden desert air, displaying countless hues. Blessed Silver bells tinkled from every tent and stall, joining the rich and rhythmic tones of street performers playing their instruments for bejeweled dancers in the firelight. The scent of incense and spices permeated the air — sweet, sharp, smoky, and savory. No other marketplace offered such a feast for all the senses across all Four Cities and beyond.

 It was little wonder that Aella found herself lost almost immediately.

 _Err…_ She faltered, suddenly confronted by the strangeness and unfamiliarity of such a crowded and eclectic scene without Grimm’s steady and buffering presence.

_ I only wandered a few feet away while Grimm was haggling — or as the merchant probably assumed, threatening — so how did I lose track of such a tall and striking man so quickly?_

 With a calculating gaze, she glanced up and down the crowded street, searching for that handsome Reaper of hers while also marking stalls of particular interest nearby, and their especially curious wares of strange shape and design. Her nerves were not so overwhelming when she had something new to investigate, after all.

_ Ah, well, I’m sure he’ll track me down soon enough. It won’t be long until he gets chased off, anyway._ She huffed with wry amusement as she marched towards the first stall in her sights, boasting an impressive array of what appeared to be semi-precious stones carved into impossible shapes. Until then, I’d better see as much as I can!

 As she perused the stalls and mentally catalogued every new mineral, herb, art and artifact she discovered, she was careful not to ask too many questions, nor linger too long. Dressed in her worn and dusty travel clothes and a thin veil over her face to hide her golden eyes, she would have blended right in with the average customer — but the amethyst silk sash at her waist and the Blessed Silver bell jingling from the staff strapped across her back marked her as a Ranger now. It was a strange feeling to receive so many stares, and to hear the snippets of awed and hesitant whispers all around.

 “She seems young to be a Ranger…”

 “Is she really a Ranger? Female Rangers are so rare these days… and where’s her sword?”

 “Shh, can’t you see the bell attached to that staff? And that sash — I’ve never seen a purple one before. What do ye think it means?”

  “Sword or staff, if she really is a Ranger I bet she’d beat a man senseless with a twig — let alone a staff. Those Ranger Trials create monsters, I tell ye.”

_Well, at least I shouldn’t have to worry about random thugs trying to mess with me._ Aella sighed in resignation as the whispers rose and fell irregularly around her. They were almost as frightened of her as they were of Grimm, it seemed. _Still, I shouldn’t draw too much more attention to myself, if I can help it. I may be a Ranger now, but I’m still as green as they come in an actual fight._

 Immediately after she’d repeated that silent vow to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, a desperate cry caught her ear over the clamor of the crowds. A few others seemed to glance around at the sound, but each of them shrugged it off and continued on unperturbed.

 “_That’s _**my**_ goldfish_!”

 It was the voice of a child, pained and terrified, yet edged with the anger of the long-suffering. While most might consider the phrase silly and chalk it up to a childish dispute of no import, Aella couldn’t shake the feeling of pity that coiled in her gut at the familiar tone.

 She flashed an apologetic smile at the vendor who had been explaining the properties of a particularly vibrant blue flowering herb, and excused herself with mumbled platitudes. Before she’d realized it, her feet turned her towards the source of the cry and carried her through the main thoroughfare of traffic to a cramped alley behind a row of purple and green merchant tents.

 A group of thin and raggedy children were gathered in a semicircle, cajoling each other and laughing as they tossed something tattered and yellow back and forth between them. An even thinner and raggedier figure huddled against the back side of the tent before them, pitiful as it trembled in the sandy dirt.

 “_Goldfish_? There’s nothing gold about this puke-bag. Wait, did your momma make it for you?” One of the children jeered, his jagged front teeth, fresh black eye, and long-broken nose marking him as a common instigator. At his words, the others snickered and elbowed each other, a vicious gleam in their young eyes.

 “Nah, I bet he made it himself — or maybe he stole it! Why would he be a Shield if he had a momma who cared about him?” Another child scoffed. This one might have been a handsome little boy, or even a charming little girl — if it weren’t for the raised claw-like scars tearing across their scalp and down the entirety of their face, mangling one of their eyes so badly it no longer opened fully.

 Aella hadn’t made her presence known yet, waiting in the shadows as she listened. This was a classic case of street-rat hierarchy at play, and an adult stepping in at the wrong time wouldn’t go over well. She needed to understand exactly what was going on before she made a move, or else they might scatter, and just resume their bullying later.

 “Shields can’t be weak babies like you — if you wanna survive, you gotta grow up and forget about whatever family dumped you off. Here, maybe this will help!” One of the children who had caught the yellow thing — a little patchwork fish, Aella realized — threw it to the ground and began grinding into the sand with his grimy bare foot. 

 “Stop! _Give it back_!” The smaller child who had been huddled in fear a moment before suddenly launched at the boy who was stomping on the fish, and tackled him with a surprising display of strength. The two children fell to the ground in a spray of sand, and began kicking up wild clouds of dust as they struggled against each other.

“Ow! You little runt! What are you all standing around for? Teach this kid a lesson!” The bigger kid was actually losing ground, grunting and yelping as the smaller one bit and punched and kicked like a wild animal.

~~*~

((Post-story notes:

Oh man it’s been MONTHS since I’ve been here 😅 I don’t use social platforms really, so I’m not used to being consistent with online interaction (obviously!) and just end up sucked into my own world irl lol (also I got married this year, so??) Anyway! Here’s the draft I was working on before I forgot about this app in its entirety for over half a year 😝 its unfinished (this is like the first half of a chapter? Idk might finish it later, might not!) and there’s some lore reference that won’t make any sense to outside eyes, so some shameless info dump (I’m too lazy to write more story to show not tell you right now lmao):

“Shields” when used in reference to people — specifically children — means the children sold (usually by their own destitute parents, sometimes by traffickers) as traveling companions (and/or work slaves) to the merchants who carry their wares across the Wastelands between the Four Cities. The Shields act as a natural repellent against Chaos and Chaos Beasts, since their innate innocence is the antithesis to the corruption of Chaos. Only persons of age 17 and under usually qualify for this — and only if they haven’t been sullied enough by the darkness of the adult world, and retain some level of childish innocence.

Also in this world of severe class disparity, limited resources, and lack of common education, most citizens believe the goldfish (or anything golden) to be a symbol of good fortune — hence why only the very wealthiest people tend to have them as exotic pets.

Anyway! I promise I still write! I just get bad social anxiety and go full hermit for whole earth-ages at a time 🤷‍♀️))

ITALY, JUNE 2024:

I thought it over that night as I stare blankly at my ceiling. Watching the fan blade turn slowly over and over like how I keep playing the events of that night over and over. Or how I’m turning my thoughts over and over unpacking every single detail about what he had said and what I believed.

I rolled over onto my stomach and grabbed my phone from my bedside table.

“Italy Cult Turned in, 2009”

I scrolled through a few different articles til I found one with a picture of my burned down house. My parents posted this one. I can’t believe they wouldn’t mention that. I’m confused as to why they also pretended it was so far away from where we are now.

My mind is made. I can’t trust my family so it makes perfect sense to trust a stranger. I laugh at the way my mind puts that together. I look at the time, 5:16 AM. Might as well go ahead and get ready for school.

I tug on a light yellow T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans shorts. I braid my long curly hair in a single braid to halfway down my back and then tie it off. I curl my lashes brush on some mascara then grab a muffin and head out the door.

I walk back down to Via Cavour all the way down to the counter where we met up last night. As I’m walking down the street part of me hopes he’s there, like he knew I would be there somehow. My heart sinks a little when he’s not there.

What am I thinking!!? You don’t even know him, if he knew you were gonna be here that would be.. creepy!! Get it together! I shake my head and keep walking. Once I reach the doors to the school I straighten my posture up and smile at the headmaster as I walk in.

The whole day I was in class all I could think about was when I would meet him again. I thought about heading over to the candy shop again to see if he’d be in there. But I also thought about my house. Why would the people do that if they believed everything they say.

Then it clicked. I didn’t even get his name! He somehow knows who I am but didn’t even pause to introduce himself.

As soon as school lets out I pretty much fly across the street and rip the door wide open as I run in. I check every aisle and don’t see him. I grabbed my usual chocolate bar and then walked out the doors. Someone grabbed my arm and I screamed and punched whoever it was right in the nose.

“Ow!!” He holds his nose and I turn to see who it is. It was no big deal Y’know, just the guy I’ve been thinking about nonstop for the past 24 hours.

I slap a hand over my mouth and apologize a million times.

“It’s ok, really. Lesson learned,” he says while still groaning a bit. “I realized I didn’t give you my name yesterday, it’s Cade.” He streatched his hand out for mine.

“Melanie,” I say with a smile and I put my hand in his. I can feel my face get warm and I quickly pull my hand away from his. I turn to start walking home and he starts walking next to me.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” He asks leaning in over my head a little and my face only grows warmer. I put my hand over my mouth and nod. “Well?”

“I decided,” I pause for a moment making sure I’m absolutely positive I want to do this. “I’m gonna join.”

A smile spreads across his face. “I was hoping so.”

“Cade?”

“What’s up?”

“What exactly happened to my house, my old one I mean?” I feel my brow furrow slightly and try to relax my face a bit more.

“Well, that’s kind of a long story,” he says with a slightly somber expression.

“I’ve got time,” I say with a soft smile.

Detective Sanchez gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he pursued the suspect through the bustling city streets. The neon lights blurred into streaks of color, matching the chaos unfolding before him. But amidst the adrenaline rush of the chase, a sudden splash of water caught his attention.

"Aquarium?" Sanchez muttered to himself, puzzled by the unexpected sight.

"A small tank?" his partner, Officer Mills, questioned from the passenger seat, eyes narrowed in confusion.

Before Sanchez could respond, the tank tumbled out of the suspect's car and onto the asphalt, its glass reflecting the city lights.

"Sunny!" Sanchez gasped, his heart skipping a beat as he recognized the familiar shape. "That's my goldfish!"

"Sunny?" Mills echoed, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

Sanchez's mind raced back to the day his daughter's eyes sparkled with excitement as she presented him with the tiny creature, promising to take care of it together.

"We need to catch them," Sanchez declared, urgency lacing his voice.

Mills nodded, his jaw set with determination. "I'm with you, Detective."

With a surge of determination, Sanchez pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving through traffic with precision honed by years of experience. The suspect's car swerved recklessly, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake, but Detective Sanchez remained steadfast in his pursuit.

As the chase reached its climax, sirens blaring and tires screeching, Detective Sanchez forced the suspect's vehicle to a stop. With his gun drawn and heart pounding, he approached the car, ready to confront the perpetrator and reclaim what was rightfully his.

But amidst the chaos and adrenaline, a moment of clarity washed over Detective Sanchez.

"Sunny," he murmured, crouching down to retrieve the tank from the pavement.

Mills joined him, a reassuring presence at his side. "Looks like he's okay, Detective."

Sanchez nodded, a sense of relief flooding through him. "Yeah, he's a tough little guy."

With a deep breath, Detective Sanchez holstered his weapon and turned away from the suspect's car. The chase was over, but the true victory lay in the realization that no matter the obstacles he faced, he carried the strength of his family within him, a beacon of hope guiding him through the storm. And as he returned home to his daughter, he knew that together, they would weather any challenge that came their way, their love shining as brightly as the sun.

I looked over the top of the cash register and watched the woman as she walked through the front door. She was holding a plastic Ziploc bag that appeared to contain a wad of paper towels inside.

The woman shut the door and stopped in the middle of the shop. The bell jingled as it slammed behind her. She stood there for a moment and looked around. Her eyes glimmered with joy as she looked at the ceiling down to the floor. The walls were filled with everything from taxidermy stripper mice to cow fetuses preserved in pickle jars. The oddity shop was fairly new but word of its opening had spread fast.

The woman walked towards the desk where I was sitting. “Do you preserve animals on site,” she asked.

Confused, I looked at her and replied. “No, everything is obtained through auctions and donations. Is there something else I could help you with?"

She placed the bag on the table beside the cash register. "I'd like to preserve this as soon as possible. I’ll donate it and then buy it back.”

She slid the bag closer to me. "What is it?" I asked, feeling annoyed with the situation. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air as I opened the bag and unwrapped the paper towel. The corpse of one of those goldfish with giant bulging eyes looked back at me. Its eyes were lifeless, with a milky film laying on top. Its body looked like an orange pine cone that had been stepped on.

"That's my goldfish!"

I scooted the bag back towards her. Her eyes no longer gleaming with joy. She could tell by my expression that I was not entertained by her actions.

She picked up the bag and slowly made her way towards the door. Without hesitation, she threw the bag in the trash can in the corner. I watched as she made her way through the front door, not once looking back or saying a word.

“That’s my goldfish!”

The words stung my ears. I looked back. “What?” I asked.

So close. I was so close.

Thomas marched up to me. “Its MY goldfish and you know it, uncle! Give it!” He demanded.

I sighed. “No, it’s not. It’s mine, remember? I just let you take care of it for a week.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Well, it hasn’t been a week. And i want to take care of it! Now GIVE IT HERE!” He snatched at the bowl.

I stepped aside and he tripped, his momentum tumbling him onto the carpet.

I sighed inwardly. My nephew’s birthday was today. I had dropped by, as far as he knew, to pick up the goldfish and spend his birthday with the family. He just wasn’t ready to let poor goldie go.

“Why don’t you go help your mother with icing the cake?” I suggested as I helped him up.

He brightened. “Yeah!” Forgetting about my goldfish, he bounded into the kitchen, allowing me to escape outside to put Goldie in the car and bring in my surprise. My sister Amy knew about it, as did her husband James. But this little surprise was unknown to Thomas.

I made my way inside again, toting a huge box with small holes in the side. Thomas ambled over, his face covered in vanilla icing, and noticed my present.

“Woah! What’s that, uncle?” He asked eagerly.

I smiled knowingly. “You will find out after we eat.”

And eat we did. Amy had outdone herself yet again with the cake and salad, and James was a master at the barbecue.

Afterwards, with the grandparents and other family, I made my way to the living room. “Who wants to open some preeeseeents?” I asked, grinning eagerly at Thomas, who was polishing off the rest of the cake and fruit salad.

“I DOOOOO!” Shrieked Thomas, bolting through the living room door. We all laughed as he made his way through all the lovely gifts. Soon he was covered in bows and ribbons.

He had one box to go. I handed him the huge bx i’d carried in earlier. Small, prying hands opened the box

Out sprang Thomas’s new puppy.

That’s my goldfish! Only… A little too alive to be my goldfish. So what makes me think it’s mine? A passing resemblance? A significant spot or color, That felt at home in my memories? Why is that goldfish, That fish I’ve never seen in my life, Why is it mine?

Why do I think anything belongs to me? They’ve as much right to it as anyone. I can’t just steal some poor kid’s goldfish Because I miss the times when I had it. It would just perpetuate the cycle.

But why does this little girl get to be happy? She has as much a right to it as me, And I haven’t found any since I was that little a girl. What is it they have, These younger kids, That with age I’ve lacked? What I would give to go back…

And I know, That her goldfish will be dead in a couple of weeks, And in a few years she’ll be sitting here like me, But I would give anything, Just to have that time again. Even now that I know what lies ahead.

“It’s not your goldfish. This is my friend.” Ethan said, looking down on a small child with disdain. It’s lip was quivering and the ballon that was in its hand had begun floating up into the sky.

“But I won that. You can’t have what I won.”

Ethan sighed. How was this his day? He thought it would be a fight at a carnival. Not arguing with a child about a goldfish.

“Why don’t I win you another one?” Ethan suggested.

“No!” The child stamped her foot, “that one’s mine and I want mine.”

Ethan couldn’t understand why children acted the way, he knew when he was a child he wouldn’t be so impudent.

If Shay hadn’t got caught he wouldn’t have to be doing this right now. He glared at the bag, the goldfish inside turned away.

Ethan was astounded. She was giving him attitude after he saved her, he was going to have a serious word with her once the rest of the team found whoever turned her into this.

He gave the bag a gentle shake before returning his attention to the child. They were still staring at him, arms crossed and a mean look on their face.

Ethan sighed, thinking what Chloe or Andrew would do. The two of them were always much better with people than he was.

“I am trying to stop a villain. I am actually a superhero. You don’t want to let the villain win do you?” Ethan said, kneeling down to the little girls level. Meeting her eyes. Doing his best to ignore the obnoxious noises of fair ground noises and blaring music that hammered his ears.

“You don’t look like a superhero.”

“Anyone can be a superhero.”

You don’t have a costume.” The girl said, “or a sidekick. Every good superhero has a sidekick.”

“This is my sidekick. She was stu- silly. She was silly and got captured, now I need to take her back to him so that he can turn her back.”

“What powers do you have? Can I see them? I have never met someone with powers before, one boy in my class said he had powers but then he just farted. Stinky” The girl said, turning her nose up at the memory.

“If I do can I take my friend and you won’t scream?” Ethan asked, hearing a large crash. Knowing without a doubt that it was his friends.

“Yup. But you said you would win me another fish. I want that too.” The girl smiled, she was missing one of her bottom front teeth and through that gap something pink was pushing through. Ethan realised it was her tongue and braced internally. How disgusting.

“Fine, let’s go quickly.” Ethan said turning, raising his hand and the girl squealed in laughter as she lifted off the ground and began floating next to him.

Ethan approached the same booth that he had just been at when he saw Shay get given away and paid the server with the weird eyes some more money to have another go.

“You already got a fish there dontcha?”

“It’s for her.” Ethan said, picking up a ring. Tossing it and landing the first shot perfectly.

“Why don’t ya just give her yurs?”

“Because it’s mine.” Ethan groaned, landing the second shot.

“I don’t rightly feel good about giving away two fish to the same household.” The man said, stepping in front of Ethan before he could make his final shot.

“Ethan anytime now would be great. I don’t know how long we are keeping him fighting in this tent.” Chloe’s voice blared to life in his earpiece.

Leaning around the man Ethan tossed the final ring, landing his shot. Using his power he levitated a fish from the wall to the girls outstretched hands.

“Don’t try and take it from her. She is really stubborn.” Ethan said, flashing the girl a smile. She beamed back before running off, so Ethan did the same.

“You tell anyone about this I will let a cat get you.” Ethan said, holding up the bag with Shay the Goldfish in it.