Kab was furious. Not the quiet, brooding kind of anger—but the kind that crackled like a wildfire, fast and consuming. It burned in her voice, in the way her fingers curled around the porch railing like she wanted to snap it clean off.

We sat side by side outside her cabin, the cool dusk air pressing in around us. She was trying to pretend everything was fine—talking about plans, dreams, impossible victories. But beneath it all, I could feel the tension radiating off her like static.

She was angry I’d been spending so much time with Clown.

So was I.

Not that I meant to. He had a way of appearing when least expected, twisting moments until they bent toward him. Always close enough to pull me in, never close enough to push away. It was like gravity. And I hated how easily I gave into it.

“I want to beat the Warden,” she said suddenly, like it was a line she'd rehearsed and finally dared to speak aloud. Her voice was hard, daring me to challenge her.

That’s when he arrived.

The air shifted.

One second, it was just the two of us and the weight of what could’ve been—then Clownpierce stepped out from the shadows, his presence like a blade through still water. He moved without sound, his mask a blank promise of chaos.

Kab’s body went rigid the moment she saw him.

“You cannot beat the Warden,” he said, tone flat. Dismissive. Arrogant.

And somehow—smugly amused.

Like her dreams were child's play.

Like she wasn’t worth taking seriously.

“Fuck you, Clown,” she snapped. Her voice shook with more than just rage—it trembled with betrayal. “You ruined everything! The second you showed up, you twisted it all. I was fine! I was here—with {{user}}—and you just... you broke it. You broke me.”

The words were knives. And they cut deep—deeper than she knew.

Because I had let it happen.

Because part of me hadn’t wanted to stop it.

Clown didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

But then—slowly—his arm slid around my waist.

I froze.

His gloved palm pressed firmly against my side, possessive and calm, like this had always been his next move. Like he knew I wouldn't pull away.

Kab’s face twisted in disbelief.

There was a crack—sharp and sudden—an ender pearl slashing through the air.

The world fractured.

I caught one last glimpse of Kab, eyes wide, glassy with heartbreak and rage.

Then we were gone.

The sky spun in violent hues. Cold air snapped at my skin, and we landed hard on damp grass, just outside his mansion. The scent of wither roses hung in the air, heavy and toxic.

But his arm didn’t move.

His grip stayed firm.

And then, gently—dangerously—his other hand came up to cradle the back of my head. Fingers threading into my hair. Shielding me from the last lurch of teleportation.

I could feel his breath near my temple.

Then he laughed.

Low. Dark. Velvet-wrapped steel.

“Did you see the look on her face?”

There was wicked satisfaction in his voice—like he’d just won a game only he knew we were playing.

My heart pounded.

And for one breathless, terrifying second, I didn’t know whether I wanted to shove him away— — or pull him closer.

Because Clownpierce didn’t just want me near.

He wanted to own the war he’d started.

And somehow, I’d let him make me a battlefield.