Chapter 69 ;-) : Malvoween: A Celebration of Me (His POV)
The day of my birth finally arrived. A day I had invented an entire mortal holiday for. A day marked by chaos, costumes, questionable worship practices, and at least six confirmed glitter shortages. Truly, history would remember me as both icon and menace. I woke early. Coffee in one hand. A kiss in the other. She blinked at me from beneath the blankets, bleary-eyed, half-buried in pillows, and so grumpy it was adorable. "Mocha," I said, offering the cup like a divine treaty. "Made with extra sin."
She took it. Sipped. Grunted approval. "Still too smug."
I leaned down, brushed a kiss against her temple, and lingered. Gods, I could have stayed there. "I'll be busy until later."
She squinted over her mug, suspicious. "You mean your party?"
"I mean my glorious tribute to existence itself, yes."
She groaned, collapsing back dramatically, as if being in love with me was a divine inconvenience. "What's the theme this time? Do I even want to know?"
I grinned. Sparkles behind my eyes. "Malvoween: A Celebration of Divine Chaos, Good Taste, and Me."
A pause. "…You made everyone dress like you, didn't you?"
"Every guest. No magic allowed."
She stared. Sipped. Exhaled like she was already tired. "Oh hells. More of you."
"Yes, my lovely," I winked. "More of me."
I vanished, probably to torment caterers, seduce mirrors, and build a confetti cannon shaped like my own face. Her last words before the portal closed followed me like a promise: "More of you. Fine. But I'm winning."
The Party Subspace, my conjured pocket dimension, was already over capacity and wildly under control. Gods. Mortals. Demi-things. Questionable anomalies. All shoulder to shoulder, waiting below my floating stage. Every single one of them dressed like me. Yet… none of them were me.
The lights dimmed. The music began. A choir launched into a corrupted version of Happy Birthday:
To the god who made chaos a brand, To the one with the most perfect hands, To the breaker of hearts and reality…Happy Malvo-ween to thee!
The sky split open. A meteor made entirely of champagne and sequins plummeted from the heavens and struck the stage in an explosion of golden mist. The crowd screamed. Someone fainted. Maybe two. When the shimmer settled… there I stood.
Dressed to ruin lives. A gleaming onyx-black suit. Gold bowtie. Matching eyeliner. Hair styled by divine persuasion of the wind itself. I extended my arms. Head back. Voice like velvet sin. "You're welcome for my existence."
The crowd erupted. The contest began. The Judges' Table materialized beneath a banner that read: We Literally Don't Know What We're Doing But We're Judging Anyway.
Judge 1: Tairochi. Stoic. Massive. Carved by mountains and regret. Held up a chalkboard with a 5. For who? Unclear. "He made me do this," Tairochi muttered. "I am not amused."
Judge 2: Sporesby. Mushroom citizen of my Realm. Sequined mini-suit. Radiated pure fungal enthusiasm. "Bloop! CHAOS FOR EVERYONE!" Confetti exploded as he slapped his buzzer.
Judge 3: Doug. Just Doug. Possibly human. Possibly lost. No one remembered inviting him. I didn't.
Together they were: Divine Authority (unwilling). Fungal Enthusiasm (unhinged). Vibes-Based Mediocrity (Doug). Perfect. The runway shimmered. Contestants strutted. Flounced. Attempted to embody me. Some succeeded. Most failed.
Julia, daughter of Vitaria and Maximus, age five, absolute tyrant, stomped out in a glittery trash bag, a paper crown, and a "chaos wand" made of a broken stick and tinfoil. "I am Malvor! But better! And I fart stars!"
The crowd howled. Doug took notes. Sporesby screamed spores. Tairochi did not blink.
Ahyona looked age fifteen, existential goth, draped in black feathers, eyeliner like despair incarnate. "I am misunderstood divinity."
I hurled a cupcake at her. She caught it. Bit it. Didn't smile. Still sparkled.
Luxor, bronzed and glowing, strutted onstage. Literal sunlight on legs. The crowd gasped. The judges panicked .Tairochi: "Unfair." Doug: "I'm feeling things." Sporesby: "HOT HOT HOT BLOOP." Me: "Sabotage."
Then Yara. Glitter clinging in suggestive places. "I'm Malvor the morning after." She blew me a kiss. I caught it. Pocketed it. "…You're not wrong."
The room froze. Lights paused. Music stopped. A flourish of doves. Gold glitter. Petals raining from unseen hands. And... her. Asha. Wigged in chestnut. My suit, tailored to perfection. Devastating. She didn't use magic. Didn't need to. She walked like me. Exactly like me. A raised brow. Disappointment incarnate. The crowd fell silent. A mirror shattered. Someone whispered, "Oh no."
My throat went dry. "…I'm not okay." My brain went to the time she ruined me looking just like me. She twirled, coat flaring, my coat, her body, perfection incarnate.
To Sporesby, she whispered fluent Spore. Sporesby convulsed. Released a cloud of pink spores.
To Doug: "Numbers are so sexy." Wink. Doug fell off his chair.
To Tairochi: "I would let your stone break me in the best way." Tairochi reacted. I whimpered.
She circled me. Predatory. Dangerous. Confident. Stopped inches away. Too close. Deliciously illegal. In her best version of my voice, she purred: "Darling… I believe I win."
I couldn't breathe. Sporesby hit the golden buzzer. Doug screamed. Tairochi scrawled: I concede.
The judges huddled. Chaos rippled through the crowd as Sporesby let out the occasional delighted bloop, Doug doodled a crown on his scorecard like he was pledging fealty, and Tairochi… remained perfectly motionless. Arms crossed. Eyes open. Possibly asleep. Possibly plotting murder. After several dramatic pauses, three unnecessary light shows, and one accidental firework (absolutely intentional ambiance, thank you very much), the verdict was announced: A tie.
I narrowed my eyes. "I think someone tampered with the votes."
Doug shrugged. "You mean bribed? Yes. Julia gave me a raisin and called me a good boy. I am hers now."
He stared dreamily into the void. Sporesby nodded solemnly, hurled a fistful of glitter into the air like a holy offering, and sighed spores. Even Tairochi's silence seemed to agree. And Asha? She just smiled. A goddess who had just impersonated me and somehow done it better.
I was undone. Julia reappeared. Stormed back onto the stage like the apocalypse in glitter sneakers. Spun in a violent twirl. Struck a pose with her duct-taped chaos wand. The crowd lost its collective mind. Asha stepped forward, cool and devastating, only to be shoved. By a five-year-old. She stumbled. Blinked down at the tyrant. Somehow managed to look impressed and offended at the same time. Julia grinned, gap-toothed and feral. "I win now! Forever!"
She raised the wand high. The crowd screamed. My voice cracked with pride. "I've never been prouder."
Later, the realm had quieted. The revelers staggered away, drunk on illusion wine, glitter-hungover, or emotionally destroyed by being out-Malvored. The stage still sparkled. The air shimmered. But the corners of my Realm, finally, were still. For the first time all day, so was I.
I had just enough silence to make the catastrophic mistake of thinking when she appeared. I felt her before I saw her. Asha.
Still in my suit. Sharp enough to kill me twice. But her eyes, soft now. The smile not for the crowd. Just for me. She walked over. I looked at her like she was the only real thing left in the Realm. Gods, she was. "You survived your worship," she purred.
I laughed, worn thin. "Barely. You stole half of it just by existing in that suit."
She leaned in ruinously close. The world dulled. My chest tightened. "Happy birthday, my chaos."
That was it. The whole Realm sighed. Fireworks. Applause. Exploding glitter birds. Useless. I didn't need them. I just needed this. Her. Her voice in my ear. I didn't speak. I just took her hand. "Come with me," I said, my voice softer than it had been all night. "There's something I want to give you. Something only I've ever seen."
She didn't hesitate. I stepped toward the far wall, brushing my hand along a seam of shadow only I knew existed. The door opened by intention. She followed. I didn't move at first. I didn't dare. Even my heartbeat felt too loud. She entered the room fully, and every frantic thrum in my chest quieted.
The Room. It was intentional. Black walls were trimmed in gold, the lighting low and warm. Sandalwood and cedar lingered in the air. At the center stood a simple bed dressed in dark velvet. Carved into the headboard was a single glowing rune.
Trust.
She froze in reverence. Her breath caught. I watched her fingers twitch. Her breath caught. She stared at the rune for a long time. I stayed still. Trust wasn't something I could ask from her. It wasn't something I could earn once and keep forever. She had to choose it.
The small table beside the bed. A blindfold. A pair of silk ties, neatly folded. A single closed box. A chair. A full-length mirror covered one wall. "I made this for you," I said quietly. "A place where you can give me trust without ever giving up yourself."
She didn't answer. I stepped behind her. But I didn't touch. "Tonight isn't about performance," I said, my voice barely above breath. "Or power. Or even pleasure. It's about you. Letting go. Letting me… guide."
She turned. Looked at me, and there was no fear in her expression. Her nod was small. But it was hers. I exhaled. She didn't shatter. She didn't disappear inside herself. She just stood there in my suit, looking at me like she knew exactly what she was choosing. Gods help me. I had never loved anything more.