Wie tu o-o es?

Phrase

Translation: Did you sleep well?

Definition: 'Wie tu o-o es?' is a versatile inquiry which can be interpreted in two distinct ways depending on context. It commonly serves as a casual morning greeting, asking if one has slept well. However, among adults and in more intimate settings, it may carry a euphemistic, risqué meaning, inquiring about the quality of one's sexual experience—Was the fuck good?

One tall boy with short brown hair wore a drunken smile as he pulled Muna through the woods. His friend with his head fully braided, equally inebriated, kept an arm around her waist, his voice booming too loudly as they stumbled along.

Occasionally, they would halt, kissing her roughly, their hands venturing under her skirt, and she did not resist. They meandered with loose clothing until they came upon a vacant tent.

They slipped inside, and her clothes fell to the ground; the touches grew bolder, more insistent. Yet, Muna's attention drifted away from the boys; her gaze lifted to the sky visible through the tent's opening. Above, a massive silver round object—the moon.

"1042 days left…" by Duvencrune, Edgar O. Diary of the Long Night, 111th Edition

Muna awoke. The remnants of the night lay scattered around her in a gruesome, twisted way. What was left of the boys were mere fragments: cracked bones and lacerated innards strewn across the blood-soaked sheets. The carnage was so intermingled it was impossible to discern where one ended and the other began.

Despite the slaughter that surrounded her, Muna felt no relief. A gnawing hunger clawed at her insides. With each moment, this hunger deepened, twisting into a fierce anger and wrath that threatened to overwhelm her.

She wanted Orlo, only him, for the security of his arms and the comfort of his voice whispering reassurances she'd never actually heard from him but desperately wanted to.

She yearned to feel loved, to be told that everything would be fine, to escape the monstrous reality that her existence had become. The simple desire for a gentle touch, a kind word, a slice of hope.

"What the fuck have I done?"

Muna pressed her hand to her mouth, biting down hard until she tasted blood. Shifting her hand in the dim light filtering through the trees, she examined the colour carefully.

"It's still red. I'm still me," she whispered, a wave of relief washing over her. "I'm still human."

Her clothes, now stained with the grotesque green and blue of the boys' blood, were beyond salvaging. She discarded them in the tent, stepping out into the cool night air completely bare. She walked through the woods, heading back home.

Something tickled Orlo's nose, an incessant sensation that made falling back asleep impossible. As he reluctantly opened his eyes, a world bathed in gold greeted him. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Zora, her body covered with his wings comfortably over his chest. The sight that unfolded around them was like a scene from a dream; golden lilies blanketed everything—their bodies, the floor, the walls—turning the room into a shimmering golden garden. A smile spread across his face as deep as the happiness nestled in his heart.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He gently brushed a few stray golden lilies from her hair, considering her question. "Why? Are you?"

"I can feel you are hungry and craving, you know what," she replied, her voice dropping to a husky whisper,

"I can go downstairs," he suggested, sitting up and leaning over Zora for a brief kiss. "You want me to check if there's any chocolate?"

"Coffee, I need coffee."

Orlo grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You and your coffee."

As Zora sat up in bed, adjusting her position, more golden lilies seemed to cascade from her hair, blossoming into view as her chest rose to meet Orlo's gaze.

"Really? More? You want more?"

"I am a man of simple tastes!"

"Okay, I'll go downstairs. Otherwise, you'll turn the house into a greenhouse," Zora quipped as she carefully stood up. She moved around the room, her naked form weaving through the floral chaos in search of her clothes. Finding only golden lilies, she eventually spotted Orlo's shirt folded over his desk. Swiftly, she slid into it, the fabric hanging loosely around her.

Attempting to return to bed for another quick kiss, Zora was met with yet another burst of flowers blooming around her. "Orlo!" she exclaimed in mock frustration.

"I'm not doing it on purpose. Stop being so beautiful!"

"I haven't even brushed my teeth. I need coffee to be even cute," Zora protested. As soon as the words left her mouth, more flowers spiralled around her hand, prompting her to add, "Seriously, Darra will be furious."

Orlo chuckled as he pulled the flower-strewn sheets over himself, "Good luck finding me!"

Zora shrugged her shoulders and walked carefully around the floral carpeting, making her way toward the door without crushing any of the blossoms underfoot.

Although the corridor was also adorned with golden lilies, the spread was not as dense as in Orlo's room, allowing for easier passage. She walked down the hall to the stairs, passing by a few couples, or more, who were sprawled out in random corners, evidence of a Dois Trae party.

As she made her way to the kitchen, Zora unexpectedly passed by Muna, who was completely naked and covered in dirt. Muna, seemingly oblivious or indifferent to her own state, bumped into Zora's shoulder without so much as an acknowledgement.

It was clear no one had had much sleep, and grumpiness was to be expected. The odour emanating from Muna was a strong indication of her night's adventures. The stench was almost ghoulish, and Zora quickened her pace, eager to distance herself from the smell and find that much-needed coffee in the kitchen.

The crunch of golden lilies under her bare feet marked Muna's anger as she saw the spread of the flowers. They seemed to mock her. To remember her, they only existed in the presence of Zora.

To Muna, the lilies symbolized what she had lost, what she believed should have been hers. They represented a life she felt was stolen from her, the life of being the chosen Hexe. And it was a dark, nasty elf, someone who didn't fit her vision of what a Hexe should be, who had been selected—a fae.

As she pushed open the door to Orlo's room, the overwhelming sight of flowers cascading everywhere ignited a fresh wave of fury in Muna. The room felt suffocated by blooms.

She approached the bed stiff, restraining her anger, and observed Orlo lying there, his eyes closed and a content smile playing on his lips. "You're already back," he murmured without opening his eyes.

She climbed the bed and sat over his lap without saying a word.

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"Did they have apple pie?" he asked lazily, his eyes fluttering open, expecting to see Zora. Instead, Muna was perched on his lap.

"Muna, what are you doing?" Orlo shifted from relaxed to alarmed, his face contorting into an expression of horror.

Muna turned her gaze to the window, catching her reflection. The startling sight of her face transformed, now featuring six eyes like that of a spider.

"I know how to unhex you," Muna said, her voice was so calm it was disturbing. "I know how we can be together and free you. I know how!"

"Muna, please get off me," Orlo pleaded, panic rising as he felt the weight of her body pinning him to the bed.

"It won't hurt," she reassured, though her nails transformed into sharp, pointy claws. "I'll be quick."

Orlo struggled to push her away. She placed a hand firmly on his chest, holding him down with unpredictable strength. "I promise it won't hurt. It's just one eye," she whispered menacingly, "And then the other, and you'll never use a blindfold again. And it will be just you and I again."

"Muna, get off me!"

But his protests were cut short as he felt the sharp sting of her claw piercing the corner of his left eye. The pain was immediate and intense, yet the scream that filled the room wasn't his—it was Zora's, echoing from downstairs.

Paralyzed by the agony, Orlo could only tremble, his body refusing to respond as he witnessed in horror. Muna pulled his eye from its socket with a ruthless pluck and moved it toward her mouth. Crushing it between her teeth, the white of his eye oozed from the corners of her lips.

"Now, it wasn't so bad, was it? Let's do the next one," she said coldly as if the horrific act was nothing more than a routine procedure.

Orlo's body teetered on the edge of collapse from pain and shock, yet the abrupt flurry of motion that snatched Muna from his lap injected him with a fresh surge of adrenaline.

Gritting his teeth against the agony, he turned his head to see Zora grappling with Muna, her fists striking Muna's face as she frantically searched for something to use as a weapon.

In a swift reversal, Muna shoved Zora off, quickly gaining the upper hand as she placed herself over Zora, her hand poised dangerously at the elf's neck, ready to strike.

Orlo, desperate to intervene, rolled towards his desk. His was still trembling and clumsy. Yet, he was able to grasp his cane, aiming it shakily in the direction of the struggling figures. His vision was a blur, pain clouding his sight, but he channelled his focus, feeling the familiar surge of magic coursing through him.

Golden vines seemed to sprout from his skin, winding around his hand and down the carved lines of the cane. He readied to activate the cane's trigger with a click.

Just as he was about to unleash the Ra spell, a loud, commanding shout pierced the tension-filled room: "STOP!"

Orlo was halted in his tracks, his finger hovering over the trigger, undecided.

Redfred and Darra clung to the doorframe, and like everyone else, they were frozen in horror.

Zora's grip on Muna's arms was faltering, her strength visibly ebbing as the struggle continued.

Until abruptly, the entire house began to tremble under a sudden, deep shaking that rattled the very foundations. Everyone except Redfred was thrown off balance, grasping for stability in the quaking environment.

Caught completely off-guard by the violent tremors, Muna stumbled and fell to the floor littered with petals. No sooner had she collided with the ground than tendrils of stone erupted from beneath the floorboards. These stony appendages snaked rapidly across the floor, wrapping around Muna.

The stone tendrils formed a makeshift prison, holding her tight and cutting off any chance of further aggression.

Redfred, acting just in time, had summoned this magic to halt the violence. "Please, I beg you, don't kill her." The Magi finally said. "Don't hurt my little girl."

Zora, breathing heavily, managed to stand. "Redfred, she is gone. She is a..."

"Please gather your things. I will myself deal with my daughter," Redfred interrupted, bearing the weight of a father's heartbreak.

Orlo, who had been ready to use his cane's magic, let his arm fall to his side, the pain and exhaustion evident in his posture. Holding his face on his left side, he looked at Redfred. "Are you sure?" he asked.

The Magi's gaze shifted around the room, deliberately avoiding Muna. "I don't have a choice. She is my little girl. One day, you will have a child, and you will understand. We do anything for them—anything!"

Lisa, the maid, quickly entered the room, holding a necklace designed to resemble a spider web. She approached the stone jail and carefully manoeuvred her hands through the gaps of the enclosure to close the necklace around Muna's neck.

After stepping back to ensure it was securely fastened, a visible change began to occur. Slowly, Muna's distorted form began to revert back to normal, her Nightmare features melting away to reveal the girl she once was.

Lisa pulled out a small kitchen knife and gently pricked Muna's skin. A drop of red blood beaded at the surface, a sign that she was not like others. She was not a Nightmare.

"She is still one of us," Lisa announced, holding Muna's arm up for everyone to see, "She is not a monster. She is still human, like me!"

Zora rose to her feet, her gaze shifting towards Orlo, but before she could speak, he cut her off. "Zora, go get your things; we are leaving."

Turning to face the Dargustea, he continued, "Before I go, thank you for everything you've done for Zora and me. You opened your home to us and provided a warm roof over our heads throughout all these Winters. You've been so much more than just guardians. Unfortunately, as you can imagine, given everything that has happened, Zora and I are unable to stay here any longer. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for everything. That's all I can say. Good luck and goodbye."

He placed his cane on the desk with a finality that underscored his words, then began searching for something to stem the bleeding on his face.

"Take the car," Darra interjected. "Take the car, I don't think Muna should use it anymore. She shouldn't be out there anymore."

The road ahead was shrouded in darkness, with only the headlights cutting through the Long Night. Orlo's driving was too fast, and the car's speedometer was climbing by the second.

Zora, sitting beside him, could sense his discomfort; his leg trembled with pain, and his grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned white.

The makeshift eyepatch, fashioned from a torn piece of Orlo's shirt, was soaked with blood. The silence in the car was only filled with the hum of the engine until Zora finally broke it, "Maybe we should stop for you to rest."

"I'm fine," Orlo responded tersely.

"You're in pain, please, stop the car," Zora insisted, her voice firmer this time. She could see the strain etched deeply in his face, the way he occasionally winced, and knew they couldn't continue like this much longer.

"I just want to get you home as soon as possible!" Orlo shouted louder than intended. "Sorry, I didn't want to scream."

Zora, though not surprised by his abrupt mood shift, placed her hand over his holding the gearbox. Unexpectedly, Orlo jerked his hand away, "Don't touch me!"

Taken aback by his reaction, Zora matched his intensity, "What the fuck did I do?" she demanded.

The car screeched to a halt, the sudden stop jolting them both. Orlo turned to face Zora, his expression tormented as he clenched his jaw, struggling with the words that finally came out in a tortured confession, "I fucked a Nightmare, Zora."

Orlo's words sank in. "I fucked a Nightmare, and we... you and I made love, and I don't know if I contaminated you. I don't know if I'm..." His voice trailed off as he leaned back, cradling his face in his hands

Although she had sensed something deeply troubling him, his blunt admission was not what she had anticipated.

"I need to get you home safe, and then I will go to the university and run some tests. And if..." His voice faltered.

"Would you be already crawling around eating people?" Zora asked with a misplaced dark humour.

"I don't know how long it takes and..."

In a swift motion, Zora turned to her bag lying next to Maggie in the backseat. She pulled out one of her swords, sat back, and deliberately sliced her own hand. Holding her bleeding hand in front of Orlo, she taunted him, "Do you want it? Do you?"

Orlo reached out and gently held her hand, "No."

"Nightmares go crazy with blood," Zora stated matter-of-factly, assessing his lack of reaction.

"I might not be at that stage... I just want to be sure."

"Fine."

Orlo restarted the car and continued driving. Zora sat looking out the window, her arms crossed, her sword still in hand, and pointed casually in his direction.

Catching her posture in the corner of his eye, Orlo couldn't help but smirk.

I rushed to the university as my life depended on it, taking advantage of the deserted halls during the holiday season to barricade myself in the laboratory. I drew several samples of my own blood, scrutinizing each for any deviation in colour, viscosity, or the presence of foreign particles—markers indicative of Lamia's blood. To my relief, all appeared normal. However, I needed more data to compare since I could be missing an important unknown factor. The turning point came when I stumbled upon a vial of black blood samples kept within our department—which did not surprise me since humans are the ones more affected by this blight. So, I used a single drop of this black blood in my own last sample. The result was astonishing: under the microscope, golden veins emerged, engulfing and erasing the black taint completely. I think by now you would guess it: I am immune. This discovery held profound implications. The essence of light, it seemed, could be the antidote to the Nightmares. How many more, I wondered, might share this rare immunity? And finally, what pained me the most was the realization that my leg was partially amputated under the presumption of preventing an infection, an act deemed necessary at the time. Yet, armed with my recent discoveries, it now dawns on me that such drastic measures may have been unnecessary. I was never in true danger. At least, I know knew that my stupidity had not endangered Zora with any contagion, so of course I hurried home,and yes, the subsequent reunion is as you might imagine—spicey. Yet, a more practical note about the risks of unprotected sex, no matter if viral, bacterial or a wicket Nightmare, just use condoms. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer

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