Chapter Text
It’s cold.
You were chased out of the last town for stealing bread. You thought you were fine for a while, but the merchant came back with others. A search party, of sorts. Found you hiding away in an alley, sick and hungry. They kneeled down to your level, held out some more food for you with a kind expression, but you’re not going to fall for a trap that easily.
You may be a kid, but you’re not stupid. So, you ran.
Maybe it was a mistake. Getting in trouble would surely be better than whatever you’re doing now, right? You spent the entire night walking through the dark after all, too scared of someone chasing after you to stop. A yawn escapes your mouth as you look at the sky with bleary eyes. It’s cloudy, it might rain again soon. You hope not, your cloak barely dried off from last time. You don’t think you can handle being hungry and sick and tired and cold. Not again.
It’s… not too late to go back. Most Vaugardians have been nice to you, despite not knowing their language. You still don’t, far from being fluent despite being in this country for a year now. It’d be easier if you knew how to speak. You knew a language before, you think. There’s no way you made it this long without talking.
How old are you again? 13? No, that was last year. 14 then? An is-tum-at, es-tim-ate? Estimate somebody said once... A nice doctor who looked over you when you crashed on the beach. She showed you with her fingers how old she thought you were. You must have hit your head pretty hard, because you didn’t remember anything. You.. still don’t.
It starts to rain. Stars. You continue walking, hoping to reach the next town. Dirt turns to mud, which starts to stick to your shoes, water starts to soak through your clothes, until you’re left shivering in the cold. You sneeze. You’re definitely going to be sick after all of this.
Luckily for you, it doesn’t take too long to see buildings again. You hope there’s another one of those circle structures. A house, you think they’re called? They always let you spend the night. But if there isn’t, you could always wander from building to building to get warm. It’s weird, but nobody ever tells you to go away, as long as you stay in the first room. This country is so strange.
You walk around town for a while, trying to find a place to stay. There doesn’t seem to be that building here, so you can’t spend the night indoors this time. You can’t exactly ask anyone either. Even if they’d be willing, you don’t know how to say it in this language yet.
You look around for anywhere else you can get dry, and spot a nice park with a gazebo. You walk under it quickly, sighing in relief when the water stops attacking you. There are other children your age playing in the grass, water splashing on their clothes as they jump in puddles. You listen to their laughs as you sit down on a bench, struggling to wring the water out of your cloak and hat. Your mom would hate if you got it dirty since- since she…
…
Your head hurts. What were you..?
A breeze hits you and you shiver, the wind is starting to get stronger. You look back at one of the children. A woman comes into view, calling them from afar and offering her hand out. They run to her excitedly and hug her legs- they’re so small. She’s their mother, you guess. She picks them up and holds them close to her chest, uncaring to the water getting on her clothes.
And then they go home, and you’re left here. A different kind of coldness makes itself known.
Someone did that for you once. Someone loved you, didn’t they? Then why can’t you remember? Why are you alone? The rain is so loud, the wind is so strong, and you are so, so scared.
Thunder strikes and you jump. You wish you had a home to go to, but you’re stuck here for the time being. The sky is so dark, it almost looks like it’s night again. If you didn’t see the sun rise a few hours ago, you’d almost think it was. Your cloak is still cold, but the water has been wrung from it now. You lie down on the bench, using your hat as a pillow and your cloak as a blanket. Nobody will disturb your nap here.
Still, you wish that somebody would take you home. You wish you had a family. You try to imagine what that would be like. Someone cooking warm meals for you when you’re sick. Someone who can teach you stuff, things you’ve never even heard of. Someone comforting you when you’re scared. Someone you could talk to, laugh with, feel safe around. Wouldn’t it be nice?
You wish you had a family.
You whisper it to yourself as many times as you can, until your eyes close and sleep slowly creeps in. Maybe in your dreams, you can live out that fantasy.
~
“Oh, young one,” a deep voice says above you, “You’ve been abandoned by it too.”
You feel somebody move you, but you’re too tired to notice. You’re being picked up, you register in the back of your mind. A bit of shifting, and you think you’re being carried on someone’s back. You crack an eye open. The sky is light again, the rain no more than a drizzle, the hair of this stranger darkless, like yours. Are they your family? Have they finally come to save you? You’re not sure.
Whatever it may be, it can’t be worse than how it was before. Not when they carry you gently. You feel safe. You close your eye again, and fall back asleep.
~
You blink slowly as you wake, yawning as you rub the remaining sleep away. You’re not as cold anymore, maybe it stopped raining. The bench feels softer than before too. Wait…
You sit up, eyes taking notice of your surroundings. You’re… in someone’s home? It’s slightly barren, having only the bare essentials. A couch- which you’re sitting on- a single table, a fireplace, and a few door frames you assume lead to other rooms. Why are you here?
As if brought to answer your question, a tall figure walks into the room. His hair is long, darkless strands seeming to cover his eyes. You’d wonder what they look like, but you’re too scared and confused at the alarming situation. He stares at you for a while, blocking your view of the door, but before you can even get anything out, he walks back into the room he came from.
Okay??
So, you’ve been kidnapped..?
Weird. You’re not hurt anywhere, and you’re not tied up to anything. You can probably make a break for it right now if you want. Getting cold and sick again is better than getting murdered because you didn’t heed the warnings of stranger danger. But when you stand, a wave of dizziness overwhelms you. You hold onto the couch’s armrest waiting for it to end before you move again, but when it doesn’t pass, you sit back down.
Only then do you realize how terrible you feel. A sneeze escapes you, followed by a series of coughs. Runny nose, scratchy throat, body aching for no real reason. Yup. You’re sick.
The man comes back into the room while you’re musing. You freeze at the sight of him, watching his every movement. Your head spins trying to keep track of it all. He carries two bowls with him as he sits down with you. A bit away from where you’re at, but still separating you from your only exit.
He silently holds out one of the bowls for you to take, and hesitantly you do. It’s warm, the inside filled with what seems to be soup. You feel the heat though the wood and suddenly you notice just how cold you were. You wish you had a blanket.
You eye it suspiciously, and a small laugh escapes him as he shows you that it’s safe. Your stomach growls. You haven’t eaten a full meal in so long. After seeing him take a bite of his own, you take the risk and quickly swallow a spoonful of yours.
Your eyes light up. It’s not delicious by any means- it barely tastes like anything at all- but it’s far better than anything you’ve managed to get on your own, so you eat it all. You both eat in silence, and for a while, you forget that you’ve basically been kidnapped. If it gets you out of the rain for a little while and a warm meal, though, you can’t say you mind.
You look at him and try to piece together a sentence from the few words you know.
“Why is I here?” you ask in broken Vaugardian.
He points to the window, and you look to see the rain pouring through lightless night. It’s loud, and would have surely gotten you even more sick than you already are. You sneeze again, and you’re convinced your body’s making fun of you. He leaves once more, taking both of your bowls to what you think is a kitchen. You try to look outside the window, but everything’s too dark.
He leaves you be for the rest of the night, coming back only to turn off the lights. While you still wish you had a blanket, you’re left comfortable knowing you’re safe for the night. Sleep comes easier than you’ve ever remembered.
~
You’re nervous the next day.
It’s not raining anymore, so you really have no reason to stay at this stranger’s home. But you’re still sick, and doing anything more than lying down feels tiring. He must have noticed this on his way out, as he stops you from following him. He communicates with very few words, hoping you’d understand, and you do! You’re just confused.
You guess everyone in this country is just nice. That seems to be a constant from what you’ve noticed. So you stick around in this kind stranger’s home. You still don’t know what his name is, so you play a game and make one up in your head. It doesn’t take long for you to bore yourself and fall asleep.
When he comes back, he’s brought a few children’s books from a library- the kind with pictures to teach kids how to read- and drops them in front of you. He serves you the same reheated soup from yesterday, and you eat it all again. You wish you could have a warm meal every night.
~
By the time you’ve begun to feel better, it’s been a few days.
You’re scared to leave again, scared to be on your own. Surviving, sleeping outside in the cold, stealing food when you don’t have any other choice. For a while, you found out what life is supposed to be like. One full of warmth and food. You don’t want it to end.
You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, shuffling nervously around the man. You really shouldn’t be here. You should leave while you have the chance, you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You tiptoe around the small house, gathering what little you own and trying to hype yourself up about traveling alone again.
You stay there for a while, staring at the wood and urging yourself to open the door. You’re being greedy...
Your dallying must have been noticeable, because at some point, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You jump away, surprised, only to see that it’s just the nice man again. He looks at you with confusion, tall frame towering over yours, but ignores his questions to instead offer his hand. It makes a motion, trying to prompt you do something. To hold, you realize. Huh?
He’s dressed too now, you’ve taken notice. Is he going somewhere? Is he… asking you to come with him? You take it cautiously, testing the waters, and his hand wraps around your’s in a loose hold. Your’s looks tiny compared to his, wrapped around entirely, encasing your fingers in warmth. Or well, kinda. His hands are colder than yours, actually.
You guess it doesn’t matter.
You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face. His expression doesn’t change, but somehow, you can tell that he’s satisfied with the outcome. You let him open the door and lead you to wherever he needs to go.
You admit that you’re curious about what he does all day. Normally, you’re left alone in the small apartment he has. Now you finally get to find out! He takes you to some kind of market first, holding your hand the entire time. Though, the more things he buys, the more he gives you to hold. That’s fine! You’re happy to help! And they’re in bags, so it’s easy to carry anyways! It does get a little heavy though…
You have to shuffle them to one arm so he can keep holding your hand. You follow him around as he does odd jobs next. There’s a board in the center of town, one with big words you struggle to read between the easy ones. You try to sound one out with what you know of the alphabet.
‘Sadness Exterminator.’
“Sssssadnesssss,” you try, “Ecks-der-min-at-er.”
“Exterminator, young one,” he comments on your pronunciation.
“Eggs-durr-mitor,” you say the word wrong on purpose, grinning playfully and looking up at his reaction. He huffs, but doesn’t smile, “Ex-term-ter.”
“Young one,” he warns with an annoyed voice that you flinch at. Your smile drops and your gaze falls to the bags in your hand.
“Sorry,” you mumble nervously. He doesn’t speak after that. You don’t either.
He picks a job, squeezes your hand, and drags you along. Suddenly you remember how big his hands are. He probably didn’t mean to, but when he finally lets go, you have to rub it from how hard he held your hand. It hurts, but you’re sure it was an accident.
You sit silently as you watch him defeat Sadnesses in the forest. You even help out a bit too, throwing the few attacks you’ve learned from travelling. It seems to be good, since he doesn’t tell you to back away. In fact, he seems happy that you’re helping him, so you keep going, attacking any Sadness you see. You may have gone a little overboard, though, as dealing damage slowly becomes the only thing you focus on.
You forget to pay attention to your surroundings, leading a Sadness to sneak up on you and get a hit in. You call out for help, but he only spares a look at you. You see him sigh, and turn back to the Sadness that he was fighting. You’re scared, he’s not coming to help. Why?
Before you can think of an answer, the Sadness attacks again, but this time, you dodge and attack back, killing it. You breathe out in relief and look over at him again. He sees your victory and nods approvingly. Oh. Oh! He just wanted to encourage you! He knew you could do it all along!
You beam at the realization, before running off to find another Sadness. You gain a few more injuries, but at the end, he pats your head, so you can’t be too upset.
As a reward for helping him, he lets you pick out some clothes from one of the circle building’s closets. You think it’s a donation center, since other people are there picking out clothes too. There are a lot in your size, but you only pick a handful of outfits. You don’t want to be too greedy.
In between the racks of clothes, you find something hidden on a shelf. A small, stuffed dog. Its fabric is a darkless shade with lightless ears and feet looking like socks. It’s so cute. He must have seen you looking at it, as he takes it and holds it out to you to hold. You do and feel the happiest you’ve ever been. You don’t remember ever owning a toy of your own before. And to be given one too.
You truly can’t think of a time you’ve been happier.
You walk back with him, stuffed toy tucked away in the bag of groceries and clothes, your other hand held in his. No one has ever cared for you like this before. You hope it lasts.
~
The man starts sending you to the circle building for school.
You groan, but go at his insistence. It’s not fair though. You thought you’d never have to go to school again, but he’s making you so that you learn this country’s language.
Reading and writing are fine. You can understand it easier than when people are talking, but it’s still difficult. The nice people at the House- you think that’s what it’s called- have suggested ways you can practice. Like talking to others around town, or watching plays. There’s a performance every week there apparently, part of a class or something.
It seemed cool, and you expressed your excitement at the idea to them. They gave you a little pamphlet for this week’s play, and you read it excitedly on the way home. You’re waiting for the man so you can show him.
…It feels weird calling him “the man,” but you don’t know what else to call him. He doesn’t know what to call you either. As it turns out, he also doesn’t have a name, just like you. How strange, but you guess it gives you something in common.
When he finally comes home from today’s jobs, you eagerly run and show it to him. He looks it over and says you could go, but seems uninterested in taking you himself. Says theater is, “childish garble that troubles your mind.”
You.. don’t know what that means, but you think it was negative. Your smile falls a little as you chuckle nervously. You start feeling awkward and stop telling him about it. He doesn’t seem too interested in your rambles.
It doesn’t stop you from being excited to watch it though, and by the end of the week, you’ve bought a ticket with your own money, the kind you’ve earned by taking your own jobs. Don’t want to make the man pay for everything you own.
You watch the whole thing play out. From the action, to the monologues, to the story that flows from scene to scene, you’re entranced. The main character, Siffrin, is so cool, saving people from terrible monsters. You want to be that cool one day.
When you leave the theatre, it’s already dark. It’s a little scary, but nothing you haven’t faced before. You come home and the man scolds you for coming back so late. You shrink a little, but remind him you went to the play. He seems surprised for a second, as if he forgot, but sends you a judgemental look after. You choose to ignore it, instead telling him how cool the performance was. He nods and hums between sentences to show you he’s listening, but you can tell his mind is somewhere else.
You don’t think he was paying attention...
It’s okay though! You talk a lot, you understand. Maybe you should do less of that. You do mention one thing before he heads to bed though.
“Siffrin,” he says, “Are you sure that’s what you like to be called?”
You nod and hum in confirmation, a smile on your face.
“Very well then,” he sighs and turns off the lights.
You lay on the couch, holding your stuffed toy, and feel a sense of pride as you stare at the ceiling. Sleep comes soon, and you dream of being a hero, saving others and defeating monsters.
~
You wake with a gasp in the middle of the night, panicking as you try to calm your breathing.
You had a nightmare, that much is evident from your racing heart. You hug the stuffed toy close to your chest, gripping it tightly in your hands. Suddenly you’re made aware of just how dark everything is. Thunder booms from the raging storm outside and you jump. You’re scared.
You don’t even remember what it’s about, but it’s scared you enough that, despite your attempts, you’re unable to fall asleep again.
Stars blinding- You’re 15 already! You’re too old to be scared of nightmares.
Still, you shiver at the chill coming from outside. You can feel it despite the window being shut. Your home is on the second floor of an apartment complex, so the trees outside cast a moving figure in the wind. The long branches cast a claw-like shadow, and you grow uneasy the more you stare.
You really don’t want to be alone right now.
You stand up from your spot on the couch and quietly tiptoe to your guardian’s room. You open the door as quietly as you can, cringing every time it lets out a creak. You shuffle over to the side of his bed, you don’t come in here often. You’re having second thoughts about asking but…
You shake him awake gently, until he blinks at you with an annoyed sound. You wince, regretting your actions but there’s no going back now. You ask nervously if you can stay here for the night. Exasperated, he groans, attempting first to get you to go to leave, but when you plead with him, he sighs, runs a hand down his face and moves the blanket aside for you to climb in.
The blanket is gentle and warm on top of you, and the pillow is cool and soft under your head. You don’t have any of this from your spot on the couch. It’s a one-bedroom apartment after all, and you’re not going to complain at being taken in. Sleeping anywhere indoors is a luxury you didn’t have before. You’d do it on the floor if it meant having a roof over your head.
You feel safe having someone sleeping next to you, even if his back is facing towards you. But it feels comforting to know that there’s someone here to protect you, at least.
And once again, sleep is easy.
When you wake, you’re back on the couch, and wake up to shiver at the cold morning air. Did he carry you back? Or was it just a dream? At first, you think it was, but then he meets you for breakfast. He asks you not to bother him in the middle of the night again. That he can’t afford to be tired when earning the money you two need to pay rent.
You duck your head in shame at that. You’re too old to be scared so easily. You apologize and promise that it won’t happen again.
~
On the eve of your 16th birthday- or at least, the day you’ve chosen as such- he takes you out into the forest to go camping.
You’re excited, you’ve never done this before with proper gear. He even gave you a gift! A curved dagger, so you can channel your craft easier. You slash it around in the air a few times while you walk behind him.
There’s a small river near the camping spot. After you set everything up, you convince him to take you to it. It’s not too hot, surprising for a summer day, but you roll up your pants and play in the water anyways. Later, you test your new dagger on a few Sadnesses wandering around.
When night falls, though, that’s when the real surprise begins.
The stars are clearer in the forest. Without all of the light from the city, the sky doesn’t have to compete for attention. It can simply exist. You’ve always had a soft spot for them, you never knew why. It just felt important, like something that was always a part of your life.
He calls your attention with your name, and presents something to you. A telescope, he calls it, to see them up close. You look through it, and you’ve never felt more connected to anything before. He tells you of the Universe, a belief of stars and space and things far beyond what we can see. He tells you of its guiding hand of fate, how it leads those who are lost, if we just follow the light.
He tells you where you’re from.
The Island North of Vaugarde.
How it disappeared 3 years ago, and how no one really knows why. You never actually thought of it until now. Where you lived before waking up on that beach. Why you had no memories of anything before. You tried not to, it always made you sad, or made your head hurt.
Hearing it now, having an answer...
You lower the telescope, staring at it in your hands. He covers your hand with one of his own, a sign of comfort at this reveal. He tells you that it’s just the two of you now, that you have to stick together. He promises to teach you all he knows, even with the barrier on his mind.
You smile, thanking him, before lifting your hand to look back at the stars.
At the very least, it’s nice to know you’re not alone.
~
Father’s day is coming up soon.
Yeah, you know he’s not your real father, but he’s the closest thing you’ve got, right? He took you in all those years ago, raised you- is raising you- so the least you can do is show your gratitude, right?
You don’t know what to get him. He doesn’t normally express a want for anything. Whenever you go shopping together, he only gets whatever’s on the list, never stopping to browse. Not to mention, his minimalistic decorations have not changed since you met him.
Whatever you do decide on, though, will have to be on the cheaper side. You’re running out of your own money from the last few jobs, and the task board in town hasn’t exactly been busy as of late.
You browse around an antique shop you like to go to sometimes. You’re sure there’s something in here that he could like, something practical maybe, that could be used every day.
You spot a teapot on one of the shelves, complete with matching cups. You examine it, taking in the intricate design painted on the sides. It’s amazing, and perfect. He only has a plain kettle, having this would be a nice novelty. You check the price for the item and…
Oh stars.
That’s a little more than you thought. You only have enough to cover half of what it costs. You could do one of the few jobs listed, but even those will only get you about a quarter more. You could.. well...
He wouldn’t mind, right?
You stare at the drawer where he keeps extra money. It’s mainly for emergencies, but hardly anything ever happens for it to be touched consistently. You could just replace what you took when you get some more. He won’t even notice.
You only take what you need. You go back to the store, buy the tea set, wrap a bow around the handle, and bring it home.
You hope he likes it.
~
“You WHAT,” he slams his hand against the table, causing one of the teacups to fall off. The sound of porcelain shattering echoes through the room.
“I-I thought- I was going to give it back!!!” you cry, taking a few steps back, “I’m sorry!!”
Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, too angry at such a betrayal. His hair falls over his face, creating a barrier between you and him. Sometimes you feel like that’s all you share with him. Wordlessly, he leaves the kitchen, and you’re left alone.
You kneel down to pick up the shattered porcelain. You handle one piece the wrong way, cutting your palm. You hiss in pain, but continue your attempts at cleaning.
You’re startled out of this trance by the sound of footsteps, each growing louder by the second. Until suddenly, he’s back in the kitchen with-
You freeze.
His hand.. it’s holding-
“W-wait- what are you doing-”
He tears your stuffed toy in half. Its head severed from its body, both hands holding a single part. They fall to the floor with a soft thud, stuffing spilling out against the remaining shards.
“That is what happens when you take things that aren’t yours,” his voice booms, before leaving you to the mess you made. You cradle what’s left to your chest, hoping, wishing, that this is just a dream.
But it’s not.
How could you be so stupid, so selfish. This is how you repay his kindness? This really is nobody’s fault but your own. A tear falls down your face as you try not to cry on the kitchen floor. You do so anyway.
At some point, the room becomes dark. It’s past sunset, he’ll be going to sleep soon. You pick yourself up, legs aching from kneeling down for so long, and you begin cleaning. You don’t think you can return this with a missing teacup. So you’ll have to work more jobs to repay him.
You wait until he’s asleep to get the sewing kit. Sitting on the couch, your hands struggle to stay steady as you mend what’s been broken. It’s quiet, save for the snores coming from the other room and the sniffles coming from yourself. You mumble under your breath for it to be okay, praying for it not to be broken. It can’t be. You don’t think you can handle it, because that would mean that what happened was real.
When you finally finish, the head is slightly lopsided, and the new thread is mismatched in shade. The patchwork isn’t perfect, but at least it’s fixed. You lay down and hold it with a terrifying grip.
You cry in relief, your tears staining the fabric.
You wish fixing everything was this easy.
~
By the same time next year, you make sure to spend the day alone, far away where you can’t bother anyone.
If you take your toy with you, hidden under your hat like the child you are, no one has to know.
~
Time moves forward.
You turn 18, then 19, then 20. You keep growing, and eventually, you’re able to help save up enough money to move to another place. Somewhere bigger, better, an apartment with your own room. Corbeaux, the city’s called. You hope it’s as nice to you as this one.
You pack away the little things you own, and you realize that you don’t actually have that much to your name. It’s.. weird, right? People your age normally have more than one box to fill when they move. You look at your… not father. Roommate? Bleh, that feels weird. He’s never told you his name, or at least, he’s never picked a name since you’ve met him. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to be referred to.
He’s staring at the telescope again. Hm…
It’s nearing almost 7 years, apparently the anniversary is soon. You personally don’t like to think about it, you don’t exactly like the idea of your old home being erased. So, you ignore it for the most part. It’s not like being sad about it will change anything. Time will keep going whether you want it to or not.
Besides, you’ve got something now, at least. A home, a family. What more could you want?
~
You knock on his door before opening it silently. He’s at his desk again, a book in his hands and hair in his face. You wonder if he can actually see anything.
“Hey,” you whisper. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You try again, a little louder this time. He grunts in response, but doesn’t look up from his reading, “Umm, it’s my birthday today. Did you remember?”
He only hums. You can’t tell if it was a confirmation or not. You shift nervously.
“W-Well, I was wondering... If you wanted to go stargazing with me? You know, like old times?” you smile slightly, a small flicker of hope in your chest.
He’s silent for a while, and you’re beginning to wonder if he heard you at all, before he lets out a long, deep sigh.
“I do not have time for that, I’m afraid,” is all he gives, eyes not glancing at you once.
“Oh.. okay. No worries,” you reassure, eyes flickering down in disappointment.
Your smile drops, and you turn away as slowly as you can, hoping he’d change his mind and stop you. He never does. You spare a glance at the book that’s captured his attention.
A Craftonomy book. You raise an eyebrow at that. He’s never been interested in that before?
How strange.
~
He’s started going to the House for craft lessons. You’re glad, you were beginning to get worried about him. You asked him what kinds of craft he’s been learning, but he didn’t respond. It’s like he didn’t even notice you. You see him practicing it, though. You peek through the crack in his doorway sometimes, just to check up on him.
He’s been practicing on a plant, trying to keep it from wilting. Gardening’s a good hobby you think. You hope he’s enjoying it.
~
He grows increasingly frustrated each time he comes home from the House. You’ve learned not to ask about it, since the last time you did, he snapped at you. You watch in silence as he stomps to his room. You hear his weeping through the door.
The next day, you find the potted plant in the trash, wilted leaves breaking from the stem.
~
He’s been more… reclusive, as of late. He still goes outside for the odd jobs needed to afford rent, just… less. You’ve had to pick up more to make up for the loss.
You followed him once, to see where he’s been going instead. First it was the library, then it was the local House. Each time he’s come out with a handful of thick books. Some of them make your head spin when you try to read them.
You asked him about it once, how he could read something that makes people’s heads hurt. The only thing he said was that he made a wish. And well, you’re not exactly sure what that means, but it does sound familiar enough for you not to question. You’ve got enough on your plate already, your f̶a̶t̶h̶e̶r̶,̶ ̶g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶a̶n̶ , roommate picking up a new hobby is the least of your problems.
Still, a wish.
That feels important to you. Just another thing you forgot, you assume. That’s what most things you forget are. At least, that’s what he tells you. There’s a barrier on your minds preventing the two of you from remembering. Preventing anyone, in fact. Nobody remembers your old home existing. Not even you. It’s like it was never real, like it never even mattered.
You glance at him from your spot on the couch. He sits on the other end, so close, but untouchable all the same. He’s reading those blinding books again. Staring at them makes your vision swirl. You wait to see if he notices you staring. He doesn’t
A painful knot forms in your chest.
If you could wish for anything…
No, you shouldn’t. He’s the reason you’re here, after all.
To ask for anything more would be selfish. If you were supposed to have more, the Universe would’ve granted it by now. It’s just you and him against the world. What more could you want?
…
Still, it doesn’t stop you from dreaming traitorous things.
~
It’s been a few more months. Around 4, you think.
The two of you are barely scraping by. You can only do so much on your own. You’re exhausted, but you have to keep the two of you safe. That’s your duty to your family.
He stopped going outside entirely now. The only times he ventures out of his room is to the local Favor Tree or the empty field outside during the night. You asked him about it, trying to prompt him into telling you what’s wrong. The only thing you got out of him was he was trying to hone something called ‘Wishcraft.’ You’ve never heard of it, but he seems adamant about it. It’s all he ever talks about. When he does talk, that is.
It must have been what let him read the books. You asked a little more about it, curious. He says that it was a smaller ritual he remembered from his youth. The memory was fleeting, but in that moment, he was able to focus long enough to make a wish before it slipped his mind completely. Now he’s able to learn more about it from reading.
It’s interesting, Wishcraft. It’s from your culture, he said, before going back to ignoring you. He did teach you a small ritual, at least. Mumbling, three times, or six, or nine. Whatever feels right. Somehow, this is one you already know by heart.
You practice with a piece of extra wood taken from one of your jobs. You’ve always wanted to learn carving, and you might as well have something to keep your mind off how stressful everything is.
You cut and cut, mumbling prayers under your breath for it to be good, a ritual as natural as breathing. You carve a dog! Your hand accidentally slipped on one part, chipping too much of its left eye off. It looks like it got mauled. A little disappointing, but you comfort yourself by saying it’s a battle scar. It makes you feel a bit better.
Hm. Wishcraft huh?
What an odd thing to obsess over.
~
You turn 22 a few months later. He forgets your birthday again- he doesn’t even come out of his room. When you finally do see him again, you don’t point it out.
You whittle another dog for your first one. This one has a party hat! You imagine that it’s come to his birthday party. You play with them for a bit, your toy sitting in your lap, and sigh.
You wish you weren’t alone all the time.
~
By the time you turn 23, you’ve grown used to celebrating your birthday by yourself.
You’re sick this time, having overworked to the point of exhaustion, drowning in too many bills to rest. You come home to a cold house with a burning fever. It’s quiet.
He still locks himself away in his room, doing who knows what. Researching something, you think. It’s not like he ever told you anything. You hear his weeps at night. It feels like they’re all you ever hear from him anymore.
You dream of cold soup served to you long ago and wish to feel that care just one more time.
~
You’re expecting to spend your 24th birthday alone again, like always, but something changes.
You’re about to leave the house for the day to perform some errands, when a hand grabs your wrist. You startle, trying to rip it away by instinct, but to no avail. Your eyes trail upwards to its owner, staring at the man in front of you. But before you can recover and get a word out, he places your hand in his, more gentle this time, and leads you out the door.
You’re caught by surprise- the last time he held your hand was when you were a child- but you let him drag you outside without question. You’re confused, but at the same time, curious. This is the most driven you’ve seen him in months, years even. It’s out of the ordinary- it excites you! It’s a break in the norm from your constant working! Maybe he even has a surprise for you!!!
He leads you through town, maneuvering between groups of people cheerfully going about their day. The sun is shining, warm and bright, and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You close your eyes and soak it all in, letting him guide you. It reminds you of when you were small. It’s perfect! You want to live in it forever.
The moment ends too soon, though. He stops suddenly, and you bump into his back. You rub your nose and shuffle to his side, before looking up at…
“The Favor Tree?” you turn to him, questioning. He’s silent for a while, head held high, studying the tall tree.
“Bright one...” he starts slowly, “Today... is a very special day. Did you know that?”
“Yeah? I did!” you grin. A warm feeling grows in your chest, you feel giddy. He remembered this time! He seems happy with your response and turns towards the tree.
“Today is the day we make a change. Today, we perform the ritual,” he speaks. Wait…
What is he…?
“What ritual?” you ask confused.
“One that will save lives, that will save this country, so that it may live on for eternity... ” he explains.
Oh.
“Oh... so you didn’t...” you wilt.
“Did not what?” he asks sharply, unhappy at you interrupting.
“Um… nothing,” you mumble, “Go on?”
This is probably more important anyway. If it got him to drag you outside, it must be. You have to admit, you’re at least a little interested. He glares at you a few seconds more, before speaking again.
“Vaugarde has been very kind to us, more than we deserve. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you, bright one?” he asks you. You nod, “Our home was kind to us, too. That I am sure of. One does not need to remember to know that its erasure was unfair.”
He begins crying. You turn your gaze away sadly.
“It’s been over 10 years since it’s fate. I fear, sometimes, Vaugarde may end up the same way,” he explains, “In that case, they will need a Saviour to prevent that...”
“A saviour?” you tilt your head.
“Someone to preserve its glory. Vaugaurde.. is perfect.... It gave us everything, welcomed us with open arms. To have it fade away, it would be a tragedy,” he cries, “I’ve been working tirelessly, studying the old books of our origin for years, to find a cure. And I’ve done it. I’ve finally figured it out, bright one. Wishcraft. Wishcraft will save us, and I am the one who must wield it.”
So that’s what all this was for.
“Is that why you… brought us here?” you look up at the tree, “I’ve heard the Favor Tree can grant wishes, but I’ve never actually seen it in person. Will it.. actually work?”
“It will, it must. If not..... then there is nothing to live for,” he turns to you, “The time has come, bright one. The Universe is on our side. And for this, I ask of you one final favor.”
You wait eagerly, enticed by his words. Saving Vaugarde from the same fate? It sounds heroic, like a story from a play. You want to do whatever you can to help, to save your second home. If he truly has the ability to protect it, then you’ll support him.
He’s done so much for you, after all. It’d be selfish not to.
“Anything,” you tell him, as true as you can, waiting with bated breath.
“I ask of you your aid... This task.. is not easy, but it is necessary. A king is nothing... without his loyal followers,” he offers his hand out to you, the same gesture that saved you long ago.
He needs you. He’s always needed you.
He didn’t forget! You’ve always been a part of his plan!! Ever since day one!!! He didn’t forget!!!
It’ll always be you and him together!
“I accept,” you beam, taking his hand, “Let’s save Vaugarde!!”
“Good,” he responds, “Then, let the ritual commence.”
~
You watch him pluck a leaf from the tree.
You see him breathe into it, creating the link. You watch him repeat it, three times, six, until it’s right. He folds it in half, and lets the breeze carry it away. It’s up to the Universe now.
It doesn’t take long for it to take effect. Less than a few minutes later, things have already started to change. A darkless energy surrounds him, swirling with a glowing light. Armour forms atop his clothes, a shining crown atop his head as he grows larger, larger, larger. Until he’s towering over you. He flexes his fingers, analyzing his new found strength. His palms channel a bit of craft, throwing it mindlessly into the street.
You can’t take your eyes off him. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. A wish come true. He looks like a true hero, like a true saviour.
A scream rings out.
You’re startled out of your trance and frantically search for its source. Your eyes lay on the victim- a person no older than you. They’re stuck in a position, trying desperately to get their legs to move, arms pulling as the lightless patch grows larger, until they’re fully engulfed.
It spreads from there.
Someone nearby pokes them. No response. They don’t move, they don’t speak, they don’t even react. It’s like they’re… frozen.
The lightless patch grows and grows, overtaking the ground in a matter of seconds. It moves like a parasite, clinging onto anything it can, destroying it under its grip. Those who are caught are trapped, legs freezing first and unable to escape. It doesn’t take long for panic to set in, and before you know it, the city is in chaos.
Children cry, people scream, the thud of footsteps overlapping until it’s all you can hear. The sounds are so loud. You watch it all play out, unable to look away.
Civilians cry out for help that never comes while others try desperately to run away. People bump into each other, falling to the ground, and in their final second, you see everything. The devastation as they realize that they failed. The grief that they’re going to die. The confusion of what’s happening and the fear of what’s to come and every single thought expressed in one single look.
A perfectly painted canvas displaying all the things that make them human. Yet as they lay stagnant, reduced to mere statues, they’re robbed of even that.
“It’s beautiful,” he cries from beside. You can’t look away.
Tears spill from his eyes in floating globs. You can feel their chill as they drift by. Some come into contact with people, freezing them on impact.
You’re terrified. You’re frozen, but in a different way. A way that glues your feet to the ground and makes your hands shake. This isn’t what you thought would happen. Why would the Universe allow this, why would he allow this. This isn’t right, this isn’t right.
But he wouldn’t do this for no reason, right? There has to be a reason!!!
“Come, young one,” he begins walking, “Our journey begins.”
...
Will he freeze you too?
You’re too scared. You have no choice but to do as he says.
You force your feet to move.
~
He lets you pack before you leave, and you’re out of town by sunset.
He trudges through the forest, stopping for nothing as his large figure marches past. His footprints leave gaping dents in the dirt, a clear sign of how much he’s changed. He’s so fast, it’s hard for you to keep up.
He doesn’t look back at you once.
“Um.. sir?” you call nervously behind him. You’re scared, but need to know.
“Call me King, bright one,” he keeps going dutifully.
“King...” you test it out, before remembering your question, “Uh.. I don’t mean to doubt but… is this really what the Universe wants? Freezing people in time? It seems... villainous, doesn’t it?”
He stops in his tracks
“Oh, bright one. Foolish child, why else would this happen if not for the Universe’s will? This is the right direction. You will learn to trust it soon,” he reassures you, “ Without this, we’ll have nothing. We are good. We will save them. I have never failed you before. So do not question me again.”
“Okay…” you look down, “If you say so, I’ll believe you.”
You have to.
Because if you can’t then...
He wouldn’t do this for no reason. He wouldn’t hurt the country he’s trying to save. That makes no sense. He’s never hurt you before, never hurt anyone else, so why would he start now. He’s not an aggressive person. You’re just… overreacting.
The seeds of doubt betray you every time you walk through a city. But you have to believe. Until your very last breath, you’ll support him. Because what else do you have?
It’s your duty to your family.
~
He never ends up remembering your birthday. You stare at his sleeping body, sat upright against a tree- he’s almost as tall as it, leaves fallen against his face. He weeps in his sleep, producing more of those tears.
You roll over, back turned towards him, and try not to think. You hug the dog plush to your chest.
Sleep is harder than it’s ever been.
~
Word spreads about the King and his rogue. So does your wish.
You struggle to keep up with him. He doesn’t seem to get tired as easily, scoffing in impatience whenever you ask him to slow down. Nights spent camping under the stars are short and restless. You travel until late in the night and leave in the early morning. Sadnesses begin to grow, an increasingly common nuisance. You’re constantly weary, but you protect him from any threats that come.
In return, he gives you reassurance. He tells you sweet promises to wear away any unease. Speaks of all the good you’ll do, how everything will be remembered, preserved. Safe. You’ll never have to worry about loss again, and neither will anyone else.
You try with all your might to believe. Even if your traitorous body doesn’t, you’ll force yourself. You have to.
He’s a good person. You’ll tell this to any doubt in your mind. The Universe will guide you, you just need to follow. You’ll stay by his side, no matter what.
It’s what you promised.
~
It takes a few weeks, but eventually, you arrive in a small village called Dormont.
You are to overtake the House a few miles away. The center of Vaugarde, an ideal place to spread your wish. The residents watch you pass. They hide away, staring. They’re scared of you.
You follow behind your King, loyal. You follow him into the House, barely fitting through the structure’s door. Each floor, you climb upwards to the roof. The lightless wish grows with every one of his steps, distorting the bright walls. The Housemaidens panic as they start to freeze, running in every direction. Most of them are frozen before they can escape. One though…
She passes you, fear and tears in her eyes. She’s so young, escaping with only a small bag to her name. You don’t stop her. Whether it’s now or later, she’ll be saved. You continue with as much apathy as you can muster, trying to distract from the pit in your stomach.
At long last, with the view of the stars and the Universe as your witness, you arrive at the roof. The Head Housemaiden confronts him. She’s actively freezing, but warns the two of you. Says that you won’t win. That Change will prevail with young Mirabelle. Your King says nothing as the wish overtakes her.
Then, she’s frozen. He makes his home on the roof.
“Bright one…..” he beckons.
“What now?” you listen.
“You let her go,” his voice booms.
“I... W–Who?” you tremble slightly.
“The Housemaiden, the one that witch had blessed. You. Let. Her. Go,” he accuses, sobbing, “All of our hard work, the fate of Vaugarde, is in jeopardy because of you. It will all be lost.”
“I- I didn’t think it mattered,” you stutter, trying to explain.
“Of course it does!!! That Housemaiden is a threat to our goal!!! She is a threat to our salvation,” he yells, tears flowing down, “You are the one at fault, so you are to bear the burden to repair it.”
“How do I do that?”
“You kill her.”
You… what?
“Sir?” you shake.
“King.”
“K-King. My King,” you stumble, “Surely there’s another… another way, isn’t there? Like the orbs from the gate! I-I can hide them around the country, we- we don’t have to hurt anyone-”
“Bright one,” he interrupts, “There are other ways to enter the House. We must not leave anything to chance. You want the country to be saved, do you not? Or are you having doubts?”
He speaks coldly. You flinch at the accusation.
“I…” your heart races. You stare at his hands, how large they are, even more so than ever, “...No. I’ll do it, I promise. Whatever it takes.”
“Good..... Get to it then,” he finishes, satisfied.
You turn to leave, but as you reach the door, he calls one final time.
“Bright one, you are an essential asset to this plan. Do not let your loyalty waver,” he shouts, “I trust you will make the right call.”
You smile in reassurance and nod, before setting off on your journey. You collect the orbs, gather your resources, and make a plan. A map circled with 5 locations, each one as far as possible. As well as a photo of the Housemaiden.
You won’t kill her.
That’s not a line you will cross. But you can stop her, and you will. He doesn’t have to know. No matter how hard it gets, you’ll make sure your plan succeeds.
It’s your sacred duty- to repay your gratitude, to protect who’s protected you. With all the love and care and devout loyalty you have, you will protect your family.
You leave the House with your dagger in your hand and a bag of orbs in the other, with a purpose and role you must fulfill. No matter what.
You’ve got a country to save, after all.