Their names become a mantra, repeated over and over, etching themselves into her consciousness like fire. She dwells long and hard on those names; invents new and delightful punishments for each of them, ways to make them scream.
Who knew how much he would grow, how much he would change! I hate him! I hate him for being like her... I hate him for ruining me... I hate him for hating me...he used to love me, no, he loved that sister of mine, and I was so used to it – I dismissed it as contemptible drivel because EVERYONE loved me! But then, then he changed...he changed. And I didn't. I don't have someone to love me anymore. Nobody loves me anymore, not even my sickly, flowery, disgusting angelic mask...the mask that has gone up in flames.
She scorned me! Deceived me, though she didn't know it, made me suffer the indignity of being her...
And most of all...Mia Fey...I will punish you! I will torture the ones you love most, play with their minds and then they will die.
Mia Fey, I will have my revenge.
Dwelling on your emotions – in her case, hatred - for too long in the spirit world, where feelings rule rather than physical form, tends to have unexpected results. She knows that, has worked it out from the angels and demons – the spirits who are always flitting between worlds, never resting for a second.
But that name, those names...they are constantly circling above her head like hawks, shrieking at her, mocking at her, cursing and jeering at her. She doesn't know how long she has been sitting there in that corner of the spirit world, shivering and screeching and putting all of her energy into hate.
There is no time where she sits; no day, no night. In the spirit world, it all depends on perspective; whether you see the world as light or dark. All she knows is what is happening to her.
Then, suddenly –
The hatred, the fear, the love and pain and regret and fury had boiled over, too much for her to handle, and she couldn't move for the emotions that were exploding inside her, when it had all knotted itself up and let her rest.
She feels oddly calm, as she has not felt for so long. She looks around her; it doesn't look like the spirit world any more. She is surrounded by blankness. Not darkness, blankness, a sort of twilight haze, like how it feels before being channelled. She feels power within her - black power, dark power of a terrible nature.
Now she knows where all that utter hatred has gone...She licks her lips, finding herself to have some semblance of a physical form, and cuts her tongue on her sharp teeth. She stretches her clawlike fingers, and looks at herself in the twilight haze, her red hair swirling around her like blood. Ghostly, burning butterflies flitter through the waving strands, and her eyes are red as her hair.
What is she? A demon - that much is prevalent; a strong spirit capable of evil, evil things. So she has powers...
Oh, and she will use them. She will use them.
Maya Fey...Phoenix Wright...
Iris' trial...I'm still thinking about its implications, even two months later. She's in prison. Maya will have to leave for Kurain soon, to take up her position as Master. Dahlia...Dahlia is off in the spirit world somewhere, contemplating her failure for the rest of eternity, as she should be.
I've told Maya the story of my college days, how I dated Iris, her old, silly nickname for me, and Dahlia's words while Maya was channelling her. I hadn't wanted to talk about it. I knew that she was badly cut up about the whole thing. So was I, actually. But she had insisted.
I just want things to be how they've been for three years now – Maya and I, defending clients and investigating cases together. I just don't want any of that to change. And she's leaving soon – and so far it looks like that's going to be permanent.
There she is, curled up at the desk with a bowl of noodles and an old book on spirit channelling, frowning slightly as she tries to figure out what the handwritten Japanese characters mean. I guess she'd taken some classes as an acolyte. Her hair isn't done up for once; the amethyst beads are lying on the desk, as is her Magatama necklace. I guess they must get pretty uncomfortable at times.
She slurps some noodles and turned a page. The lamplight is shining on her midnight-black hair. It's very pretty hair. Very black. Very pretty. I stare at it drowsily for a while.
"Nick," she calls out to me at about nine-thirty, "I, I'm sleepy..."
"Why don't you put that book away for the night, then?" I suggest, getting up from the couch to take a look. "What's it called?"
"Something about, uh, angels and d-demons," Maya yawns.
"And you need to know this?"
"Yeah..." She slumps to the desk. "Tired..." she said softly.
I smile slightly, and tug her out of the seat, before half carrying her to the couch. I check the desk; it looks like she'd been taking notes in English. I pick them up and read a few lines.
- Demons powerful, evil spirits given powers beyond normal spirits by negative emotions
- Don't need a spirit medium channelling them to take control of a person – possession
-Spirit mediums must not remove Magatama necklaces/amethyst jewellery – these protect against demon possession
Hmm. Scary stuff. I hope she doesn't get nightmares from this book. Even though she doesn't seem to be following its instructions – she always takes off her Magatama when she's relaxing. Demons, huh...I shrug off my suit jacket and chuck it in the corner. I'll hang it up later.
Of course, they're probably a myth or something. I hope.
I sit on the couch next to her and lay back my head. She's still stressed out from the Hazakura trial, I can tell. She doesn't need to be adding to the pressure with more work. She's done the acolyte training – what else does she have to do to be a worthy Master?
Time passes. I fetch Maya a blanket and stare at the dusty law books on the shelves.
Wait...what's that? I shut my eyes. Open them...there it is again. A flash of red! I sit straight up.
Out of the corner of my eye...ah! It's a flash of bright, crimson red. A swish of cloth...of hair?
No...I'm hallucinating. I have to be. Unbidden, my eyes flick towards the book still lying open on my desk. I stand up.
A giggle. High pitched, sweet, and composed of utter malice. I spin around. A few white butterflies flutter over and hover around my head. I back away, and they burst into flames.
"Wh-what..." I stutter. I'm dreaming...right? Or, more accurately, 'nightmaring'.
Maya smiles at me. She seems to have woken up, and is stretching sleepily. "Hi, Phoenix."
Hmm. It probably had been a hallucination caused by tiredness. I put on a smile. "Oh, hey. Looks like you've woken up, Maya?"
Where'd the questioning tone come from? She yawns and stands up. "Yeah, you woke me."
"You probably shouldn't go back to that book," I mutter. "I'm sorry I woke you...but I thought I saw..."
"Saw what?" Maya prompts.
"Nothing." No point worrying her. I turn to the desk.
She steps closer, and tugs on my shirtsleeve. I turn back towards her, and she gives me a winning smile. It has flowers and sunshine and rainbows written all over it.
It sends shivers down my spine, and I open my mouth to say something, but can't.
"N-no..." I croak. "What..."
"I think I know what you saw, Phoenix Wright..."
She tilts her head sidewise and the smile broadens. It's a dazzling smile – dazzling in a way that Maya isn't, yet it's on Maya's face.
Adrenalin surges through me, and every muscle is shaking. My nerves scream terror as Maya draws her fingers up my arm, my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and caresses my cheek. Her fingers are cold, ice cold. No..what was she...but it couldn't be...can't be...this woman is dead and gone! Gone! My worst dreams are about her returning, she couldn't be, she isn't...
"This time, I win...Feenie."
- The person the demon is possessing doesn't take on the demon's shape
- The possessed person's spirit doesn't leave the body because of this
- It doesn't have to be a spirit medium's body
- Demons capable of wreaking extreme havoc in the living world.