The Madman's Guide to Miracles

Today was the day I’d put my plan into motion.

The Broodmother was leaving.

From what I’d pieced together over the past few weeks, the Regents rarely stayed within their own territories. Every so often, they’d leave to oversee their domains personally—collecting livestock, gathering resources, dealing with disputes between their Horrors, or hunting down the unlucky few who wandered too deep into the forest. Millhaven wasn’t the only village swallowed by these woods. There were scattered settlements, broken caravans, and enough desperate people to keep the Regents fed.

That alone made this the safest opportunity I’d had since waking up here. If I let it slip, I’d only be making things harder for myself later. I wasn’t stupid enough to waste it.

I woke before the rest of the house.

The floor was cold beneath my feet as I climbed out of bed and quietly opened the door.

Petal’s room wasn’t far.

Now was the time.

••••••

Petal woke with a smile and hugged the stitched doll tucked beneath her blanket before slipping out of bed.

Mother had already left.

That meant Thorn wouldn’t spend the entire morning following her around, reminding her to clean up, sit properly, stop running, stop talking so loudly... Big Sis was always like that. Always acting older than everyone else. It was annoying.

Bloom wasn’t. He smiled when she spoke, listened even when she rambled, and yesterday, he even patted her head.

The memory made her grin.

If she hurried, she could find him before Thorn did. Maybe they could explore the nursery together. Maybe they’d play. Maybe Big Brother would pat her head again.

She couldn’t help herself.

Petal darted out of her room, her little footsteps echoing through the hallway as she searched for the only sibling who actually felt fun to be around.

The moment she opened the door, she looked to her right.

Bloom was always waiting for her, as usual.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it.

He was nice.

He didn’t tell her to slow down whenever she got excited. He didn’t sigh every time she asked a question. When she complained about Thorn, he simply listened... and somehow always knew exactly what to say afterward.

Talking to him was easy.

Petal hurried over, unable to hide the excitement in her steps.

"Big Brother!"

Bloom looked up, a hint of surprise crossing his face before it softened into a smile.

"Morning, sis."

He glanced down the hallway.

"You look excited."

Petal nodded so hard her hair bounced.

"Mother’s gone!"

Bloom chuckled.

"Then we’ve got the whole morning to ourselves."

He leaned in slightly.

"Think you could show me around a little? I still get lost in this place."

Petal’s eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"I’d rather have the best guide in the house than wander around on my own."

And so began Petal’s day.

A day of sunshine.

A day of smiles.

A day where Big Brother finally had time to play with her.

Mother always said flowers bloomed brightest beneath the sun.

Petal thought...

Maybe people bloomed that way too.

Mother always said flowers bloomed beneath warm sunlight.

Petal smiled to herself.

Maybe Big Brother had finally found his sun.

Bloom looked at her for a moment, his expression growing thoughtful before a faint smile returned.

"Hey, sis."

"Hm?"

"Want to play a game with me?"

Petal’s eyes immediately lit up.

"Really?!"

He nodded.

"But it’s a secret game."

She leaned closer without thinking.

"If you can keep Bramble busy for just a little while..." he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "...I’ll owe you a whole afternoon. We can play whatever you want."

Petal gasped.

"A secret mission?"

Bloom chuckled.

"Exactly."

Petal’s smile faltered.

"...Bramble?"

She looked down at her feet, absentmindedly fidgeting with her sleeves.

"He’s... kinda scary."

Bloom crouched until they were eye level.

"You don’t have to do anything dangerous."

She peeked up at him.

"Just keep him talking for a little while. Tell him you want to play. Ask him to show you something. You’re good at that."

Petal puffed her cheeks.

"He usually says no..."

"Maybe."

Bloom smiled.

"But if he says yes this time..."

"...I’ll spend the whole afternoon with you."

Petal’s eyes widened.

"The whole afternoon?"

He nodded.

"Promise."

She hesitated for another moment before clenching her tiny fists.

"...Okay!"

"I’ll do my best."

Mother always said flowers grew toward the warmest light.

Petal didn’t really understand what that meant.

She only knew that when she was scared, her feet always carried her to someone. Once, that someone had been Thorn, prior to becoming angry and annoying. Before Bramble stopped talking unless Mother asked him something. Before Moss started sleeping through entire days.

Now...

Somehow...

Her feet always carried her to Bloom.

She hoped he never got tired of her.

She hoped he never stopped smiling when she ran up to him.

It would be nice if today never ended.

It would be nice if tomorrow looked exactly the same.

Bramble was exactly where he always was.

Standing outside Mother’s room.

Arms folded.

Watching the hallway with the same bored expression he wore every day.

Petal slowed down.

...He’s scary.

She took a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks.

"Bramble!"

He glanced at her.

"...What."

"Come play with me!"

"...No."

She pouted.

"You always say no."

"Because I’m busy."

Petal shuffled closer until she was tugging on his sleeve.

"Just a little!"

"Mother isn’t even home..."

Bramble sighed, gently prying her hand away.

"Petal."

"I’m guarding Mother’s room."

"I can’t leave."

Her shoulders drooped.

"...You never play with me anymore."

Something flickered across Bramble’s face.

Guilt.

He looked away for a moment before letting out another sigh.

"...Fine."

"I’ll play with you after my shift."

Petal shook her head immediately.

"Nooo... I want to play now."

She grabbed his wrist this time, trying to pull him down the hallway with all the strength her tiny body could manage.

"Come on!"

Bramble didn’t budge.

"...Petal."

"...Five minutes," he muttered at last, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just stop pulling."

Petal’s face lit up.

"Really?!"

She took his hand without waiting for another answer and happily dragged him down the corridor, completely unaware that, several halls away...

Someone had been waiting for exactly this moment.

Watching.

••••••

I watched Bramble disappear down the hallway with Petal clinging to his arm.

Finally.

The first piece had moved.

A quiet sense of satisfaction settled over me as I stepped out from my hiding place.

This wasn’t the only move I’d been setting up.

Thorn had her part to play too.

Just...

Not yet.

I paused for a moment, feeling something inside me shift and push against the edges of my thoughts.

My vision blurred for a moment.

One minute.

Petal can keep him busy... probably.

The moment they disappeared around the corner, I moved.

I crossed the hallway in seconds and stopped before the Broodmother’s door. From my pocket, I pulled out the spare key I’d stolen a few days ago after casually asking Petal where Mother kept the copies.

It slid into the lock.

Click.

The door eased open.

My pulse quickened.

Ba-dump–

Ba-dump–

This was it.

I pushed the door open just enough to slip inside before quietly shutting it behind me.

The room was... ordinary.

At least at first glance.

A large wooden desk sat beneath a tall window, its surface neatly organized with ledgers, stacks of parchment, dried ink, and sealed letters. Shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, packed with thick journals, preserved flowers pressed between pages, glass jars filled with seeds, and rows of carefully labeled specimens. A cabinet stood in one corner beside a map of the surrounding forest, dozens of colored pins marking places I didn’t recognize.

It looked less like a bedroom...

and more like an office.

A place where someone ruled.

The bed had been pushed against the far wall, almost forgotten. It was immaculate, untouched, as though sleep was little more than an inconvenience. Beside it rested a wardrobe stitched from pale leather and dark roots, while creeping vines crawled lazily across the ceiling beams, blooming with flowers that opened and closed without a breeze.

I slowly exhaled.

’Good...’

’This is exactly what I was hoping for.’

Two minutes.

Keep moving.

I headed straight for the desk.

Drawers.

Empty.

The second held nothing but sealed letters tied together with dried vines. The third was filled with neatly arranged records—lists of names, dates, numbers I didn’t have time to decipher.

’Not here.’

I shut it and moved on, fingers skimming across the shelves without pausing—books, boxes, dried herbs, sealed vials.

Nothing.

’Come on...’

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

’Think.’

If I carried something important, where would I keep it?

Somewhere close.

Somewhere I’d reach for without thinking.

Three minutes.

’Petal... don’t lose him yet.’

My eyes drifted toward the bed.

I crossed the room in three quick strides and dropped to one knee. My hand swept beneath the frame.

Dust. Roots. ...Leather.

My fingers caught on something.

Slowly, I pulled it into the light.

A worn brown pouch, no larger than my hand, its drawstring bound by a faded green thread.

The corner of my mouth lifted.

"Found you."

I loosened the drawstring and looked inside.

Mercy.

The rest of the things I’d bargained for with the Merchant were still there, untouched.

I let out a quiet breath.

’So it actually works...’

The ownership binding wasn’t just another one of his sales pitches.

That’s good to see I wasn’t scammed.

That meant unless I handed them over myself...

they were mine.

Before I left, I stuffed a handful of seeds and anything else that looked interesting into the pouch.

A dull ache throbbed inside my skull.

Something deep within me stirred, clawing at the edges of my consciousness.

It wanted out.

Cracking. Growing. It yearned to see. I pushed it back with a groan.

Four minutes.

Time to leave.

I took one step toward the door.

Click.

My body froze.

Every muscle locked in place.

The handle turned.

Slowly.

Ba-dump-

Ba-dumpp–

’NO!!"

The door creaked open inward. Sunlight poured across the floor as someone entered.

••••••

Five minutes.

That was all Bramble had agreed to.

Petal happily skipped beside him, humming to herself.

"Bloom said we’d play after this."

"Did he."

She nodded.

"He told me to keep you busy for a little while."

Bramble’s steps slowed.

"Why?"

"I don’t know."

She shrugged.

"He just said it was a secret."

"Petal."

"Hm?"

"...Where’s Bloom?"

She blinked.

"...Mother’s room?"

Bramble stopped.

His expression hardened.

Without another word, he turned and sprinted. Petal stumbled after him, confused, struggling to keep up.

Bramble rounded the corner at a full sprint.

The door was closed.

He stopped just long enough to steady his breathing before gripping the handle.

"Bloom."

"I know you’re in there." His voice was low. "Come out."

Dead air

His patience snapped.

The door slammed against the wall as he shoved it open.

His eyes swept across the room in an instant.

The desk, shelves, bed, and wardrobe.

There wasn’t anything.

He stepped inside, searching faster this time. Behind the desk. Under the bed. Behind the wardrobe. Even the window was still latched shut.

His brows slowly knitted together.

"No."

That wasn’t possible.

He’d run back the second Petal answered him.

There wasn’t enough time for Bloom to disappear.

Then...

Where was he?

He frowned.

He wondered if this was another of Petal’s pranks.

His jaw tightened.

Tch.

There was one place he hadn’t checked.

Behind the door.

Bramble let out an irritated sigh before slowly turning around, already expecting to find Bloom crouched there with that stupid, innocent smile on his face.

Mother had made herself perfectly clear.

Anyone who entered her room without permission...

He didn’t need to bring them back alive.

If Bloom really was hiding there...

He’d regret it.

His body tensed.

Just as he began to turn—

THUD!

A weight crashed into his back.

His knee buckled.

Before he could recover, a leg reaped his own while an arm wrapped around his shoulder, dragging his center of gravity forward.

BAM!

The floor shook beneath him.

"...Fuck!"

Bramble reacted on instinct. He twisted violently, trying to throw the attacker over his shoulder, but the grip shifted with him. His wrist was pinned, his elbow folded awkwardly against his back, and every burst of strength was redirected somewhere else.

’What the hell...’

He planted a foot, exploded upward, and finally tore himself free.

The moment he turned, his eyes met a familiar face.

Bloom.

Blood vessels had spread through the whites of his eyes, turning them a violent crimson. A faint smile rested on his lips, one that looked almost absent-minded.

Bramble stared for half a heartbeat.

"...What the fuck’s wrong with you?"

Bramble’s eyes narrowed.

He had suspected it from the start. Ever since Bloom arrived, there was an unsettling aura around him. He was excessively quiet, overly cautious, and nearly mad—always watching and listening in secret. Bramble stayed silent, unsure if trusting his instincts was the right choice.

Mother trusted him, but he never did.

Bramble clenched his jaw, struggling beneath Bloom’s grip.

"...So you really were acting."

"Since when?" Bramble spat, dragging a breath through his teeth. "You’ve been playing house for weeks."

"Weeks," Bloom agreed, almost pleasant. "Feels longer, doesn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw again, struggling beneath the hold.

Before he could force another escape, Bloom moved again.

The arm pinning Bramble disappeared.

Bloom’s body slid behind his shoulder.

What—

Bloom’s forearm snapped beneath his chin.

His other hand locked behind Bramble’s head.

Bramble’s neck was trapped.

"...Gh—!"

Bloom hooked both legs around his waist and wrenched him backward.

THUD!

Bramble’s vision shook.

Bramble clawed at the arm around his neck, digging his nails in—not scratching, tearing, four furrows opening red beneath the sleeve—but the choke only grew tighter.

His jaw snapped sideways and closed around Bloom’s forearm.

Teeth broke skin.

Bloom’s breath hitched. The grip loosened for half a second—just enough for Bramble to suck in air—before Bloom shifted his angle, dragging his arm free of the bite and resetting the choke higher, closer to the jaw, out of reach of Bramble’s teeth.

"You bite like a dog," Bloom muttered, blood sliding warm down his wrist. "Guess that tracks."

Bramble didn’t answer. He didn’t have the air to.

Then his shoulder popped.

A wet, ugly sound.

He’d wrenched it out of socket on purpose, buying an inch of space that shouldn’t have existed, and used the slack to drive an elbow into Bloom’s ribs at an angle no human joint should’ve allowed.

"That’s right..." Bloom whispered, his voice trembling with confusion. "Fight... fight harder."

His breath brushed against Bramble’s ear.

"Come on... show me those fucking Horror genes."

Spots crept into Bramble’s vision.

He drove an elbow backward.

BAM!

Bloom grunted.

Then he laughed, a sound that initially was confusion but soon erupted into something wild.

"Kh... heh..."

"HAHAHA...!"

The sound echoed through the room.

The laughter gradually warped, turning from a simple reaction into something filled with excitement.

A chill ran down Bramble’s spine.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had experienced fear.

Yet that laugh...

All of Bramble’s instincts told him that the creature around his neck wasn’t human or typical of a horror.

Then louder.

"HAHA..."

The laughter that had started as confusion slowly shifted into excitement, until it became something uncontrollable.

"There you are..."

"I knew you weren’t just some obedient little mutt."

His grip tightened again.

Bramble’s dislocated arm bent backward at a wrong angle, fingers scrabbling for Bloom’s face, nails raking a line down his cheek before Bloom caught his wrist and forced it down. Bramble didn’t scream. He didn’t feel the shoulder either, not really—just a distant wrongness, like the arm belonged to someone else. Some part of him noted that and recoiled from it. He shouldn’t be this strong. He shouldn’t still be moving. And Bloom—new, weeks-old, barely a Horror by any measure Bramble understood—shouldn’t have been able to match him, not like this, not without straining.

What is he?

Bramble’s lungs burned.

The room began to sway.

What... the hell is wrong with him?

Those bloodshot eyes...

That smile...

It wasn’t the expression of someone struggling to survive; it was the face of someone savoring every moment.

What the hell...

Bramble couldn’t make sense of it.

Every time he tried to break free, Bloom somehow stayed one step ahead. He shifted his weight, changed his grip, killed every bit of momentum before it could become an opening.

"...Ngh!"

Bramble slammed his elbow back as hard as he could.

THUD!

Again.

THUD!

Again.

THUD!

Bloom barely reacted.

His grip only seemed to tighten.

Bramble’s breathing became ragged.

Move...

Come on... move!

"LET ME GO!"

He twisted with everything he had, throwing his weight from side to side, trying to rip himself free. His good hand clawed backward, blind, catching Bloom’s jaw and dragging four thin lines down toward his collarbone.

"HOW ARE YOU—" Bramble’s voice broke, more animal than words now. "YOU’RE NOTHING. YOU’RE NEW."

"I know," Bloom said, almost gently. "Isn’t that the fun part?"

It didn’t work.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Bloom’s laughter rang out behind him, sharp and unhinged.

Bramble felt his chest tighten.

"...The hell is wrong with you?!"

Bloom didn’t answer.

He just kept laughing.

Frustration boiled over.

"DO YOU THINK YOU’RE ANY DIFFERENT FROM ME?!"

He forced the words out between strained breaths.

"LOOK AT YOURSELF!"

"YOU’RE A HORROR TOO!"

"YOU THINK YOUR REASONS MATTER?!"

"A MONSTER IS STILL A MONSTER!"

"YOU THINK BECAUSE YOU REJECT US, YOU’RE ANY DIFFERENT?"

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE BECOME."

Bramble’s voice cracked as he thrashed beneath the choke.

Bloom laughed again, not because it was funny, but because he couldn’t help himself.

"Worse?" he whispered between breaths. "You think... this is worse?"

Another laugh tore out of him.

"HAHA...!"

"You people ripped villages apart..."

"You wear skin like it’s clothing..."

"And I’m the monster?"

Bramble snarled, veins bulging across his neck.

"LOOK AT YOURSELF!"

"YOUR EYES!"

"THAT SMILE!"

"YOU’RE ENJOYING THIS!"

For a brief moment...

Bloom went quiet.

Then the corners of his mouth stretched even farther.

"...Yeah."

The single word came out almost surprised.

"...I am."

He laughed again, louder than before.

"Isn’t that terrifying?"

"You know what your problem is, Bramble?" Bloom whispered, his voice dripping with mockery.

"That’s where you’re wrong. You still think monsters are that simple."

"It’s not."

"Monsters aren’t defined by what they are..."

"They’re defined by what they choose."

Bramble’s stomach sank.

There wasn’t an ounce of guilt in that voice.

Only exhilaration.

"YOU’RE SICK!"

"How ironic..." Bloom whispered. "The real monster is the one calling someone else sick."

"NO..." Bloom breathed, his bloodshot eyes trembling with something that looked dangerously close to ecstasy. "You are the one who is sick!"

Bramble’s movements slowed.

His fingers, once clawing desperately at Bloom’s arm, gradually lost their strength.

His vision blurred.

The room stretched.

The ceiling faded into a dull haze.

...No.

He couldn’t lose here.

Mother had trusted him with this room.

She’d trusted him.

His breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps.

Petal...

That idiot...

She was going to blame herself.

"..."

His lips moved, but nothing came out.

"Sleep," Bloom murmured, almost soft. "You did fine."

"You know..."

Bloom tilted his head.

"It’s been a while since I’ve used jiu-jitsu. I feel a bit rusty, but it looks like I’ve still got the hang of it."

His smile widened.

"Funny how useful it became."

Bramble’s vision swam. Some distant, dying part of his brain filed this away as the single stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"That was unrelated."

Bloom’s grip never loosened.

Darkness crept in from the corners of his vision.

Mother...

...I’m sorry.

His body went limp.

The last thing Bramble saw was a pair of bloodshot eyes staring back at him...

...and a smile that didn’t belong on a human face.

Bloom held on a few seconds longer than he needed to, waiting for the last of the twitching to still. Then he let go, and Bramble’s weight dropped to the floor without ceremony.

He straightened up, rotating his bitten arm. Blood continued to well up where the teeth had bit in, slow and dark. The scratches on his cheek stung when he touched them, leaving red on his fingers. He examined it briefly—calmly, as if inspecting a paper cut.

His smile hadn’t moved the whole time.

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