Chapter Text
The dark fountain’s eerie glow spills down through the narrow library windows. They line the vaulted ceiling and observe the room with impartial faces. Small Delta Runes take shape at the tops of the leaded glass, throwing the fountain’s nacreous shadows against the walls. It’s getting late now, there hasn’t been much time since Ralsei’s returned from their newest adventure. But he felt he had no choice but to head straight for his castle’s library as soon as Kris and Susie took their leave. It’s only been a day since he confirmed his suspicions regarding Kris’ current state, locked deep in Card Castle’s dungeon. But there truly is no time to spare. Every moment he fails Kris is another moment they must live in agony, is it not? What’s happening to them, this additional willpower grafted onto their soul and forcing their hand, is not the fate of a Lightner.
The dark wooden bookshelves tower above him as he works, like well-dusted soldiers standing at attention. And this is a battle of sorts, isn’t it? Just one that won’t offer any EXP or Dark Dollars. He’s amassed a stack of books at a wide wooden table that’s tall enough to obscure the rest of the room from his sight, but sifting through them all is becoming more than he can manage. He takes to tracing the lines of text with his pink blunted claws as he reads, mouthing the words in an attempt to preserve his focus. But the ancient scrawlings begin to bend and sway and he has to blink and shake his head to bring them back to order again. He’s gone through multiple volumes to glean the basics of Lightner physiology, though it all feels too concrete for what he’s looking for. Whatever Kris’ situation is, it’s probably not connected to their dietary habits or circadian rhythm. Some of the texts mention souls too, but they’re all quite vague. Souls are written about in passing, almost as a second thought. Or as one would mention something that one assumes the reader already understands and thus isn’t worth explaining. But this isn’t something commonplace like a cooking cauldron or a dark candy tree! These are souls! A concept which seems to be exclusive to Lightners from what he can parse, though he doesn’t dwell on that.
(He can’t dwell on that.)
Kris’ uninvited guest doesn’t appear to have a point of origin within Kris themself. At least, not from what he can tell. It pings the edge of Ralsei’s senses like a deep, distant magic. And yet it doesn’t exactly feel like magic, either. (If it was, perhaps it would be easier for him to grasp.) There’s something else at play, something which distorts the energy around Kris into an impenetrable glamour when he tries to study them too closely. It’s like light refracted through a fractured prism. It forces him to avert his gaze when he gets a little too close. (A little too close to what, he’s worryingly uncertain.) If only he could simply see! It’s unnerving, playing it up for an arcane observer he doesn’t even understand. He’s won its approval, if the many hugs and gifts are any indication, but it all sinks low and sour in his gut. It’s funny, really. Only a few days ago, all he could think about was meeting his Lightner heroes and showering them in unrestrained kindness in the hopes that they would form a valuable bond. In the hopes that he could please them, could soothe their worries.
In the hopes that someone would like him.
He slams his book shut, unsettled. Maybe this is all his fault? Perhaps his motives are selfish at their core? Perhaps he’s never been as focused on the prophecy as he should be and this— this curling of the monkey’s paw is his doing? He’s gotten exactly what he’s wanted. That thing likes him. He’s being taught a lesson—
He can’t stop the small, helpless noise that leaves him, pressing his paws to his mouth to cut it off. And then he’s pulling another book from the stacks and flipping it open. He’s tracing the words with a claw and mouthing them desperately in the dim light. This must be his atonement. Prepared to work through the night, he presses on against the ache in his straining eyes. But all he finds are more indistinct references and esoteric spell work. The page swirls and blurs and he can feel his head bowing against his will until finally—
“Oh ho ho! You dropped something, you enchanting little magic boy!”
Ralsei’s head snaps up and he blinks, disoriented. “Wha— I— oh! Lancer, thank you.”
Lancer holds out the thick book that had slipped from his exhausted grasp like a trophy. “You’re most welcome!” He hands it to Ralsei and gives a great big grin, tongue akimbo.
The smile Ralsei offers in return is more muted, but still good natured. “I’ve never seen you in here before. What are you doing up so late?”
“How can anyone sleep after two big adventures in a row?” He throws his arms open wide and spins on one foot. “And this is the last place Lesser Dad would look for me. He said I had to go back to bed as soon as I was done osmosing my warm milk.”
“Oh.” Ralsei nods, removing his glasses to wipe the lenses on his robes. “Yes, of course.”
“You look like you’re not having any trouble sleeping! Is that book really that boring?”
“It’s not boring at all! It’s...it’s actually quite fascinating, I’m just…”
Lancer tilts his head, “Maybe you should’ve gone to bed after your warm milk?”
“Maybe I will.” He nods finally, placing the book back on the “to read” pile. “I’m studying up on some things for Kris and Susie, but I don’t think I’m retaining any information right now.”
“Studying what?”
Ralsei’s eyes go wide before he can stop himself, his paws freezing over the stack of books he’s already scrubbed through. “I— magic!” It can’t sound convincing, but he sits up straighter and forces himself to meet Lancer’s eyes. “Just brushing up on more healing magic for our next adventure!”
“I’m sure you’ll tender-loving-care those ex-clowns into perfect health!” He pauses, just for a moment. His smile drops from 100 watts to 60 and his tongue retracts into his mouth. “Do you think they’ll come back soon?”
“I hope so.” Ralsei’s tense shoulders droop.
“Yeah, it’s been WAY more fun with Susie around!” Lancer's grin brightens. “And the blue person whose name I totally know!”
“It certainly has been,” he agrees, standing to collect a few books in his arms. There’s no use in leaving the library a complete mess. He should at least re-shelve the ones he’s done with before going to bed. “I think you make them happy, too.”
“Boy, DO I!” Lancer’s little hands turn to fists, which he tucks against his hips with elbows pointed proudly towards the walls. It’s quite the powerful stance. “It’s The Lancer Fan Club, after all!”
That isn’t the name they picked, but Ralsei won’t correct him.
“I’m glad to see you so happy!” He begins down the nearest row of shelves, Lancer in tow. He locates the empty space he’s looking for and gently slides a wide book back into place. Happiness is a sign of fulfillment, and fulfillment is a sign that they’re doing their jobs! It’s really that simple. He can’t help but feel a bit proud of the little spade prince. “Assisting the Lightners is important. And from what Susie told me, you were a big help back in Queen’s manor.”
“I aim to please, my minty fresh bookworm!” He gives his fingers a snap and rotates 360 degrees seemingly without using his legs.
“And you should keep up the good work!” Ralsei's encouragement is punctuated with a yawn, barely stifled against his inner elbow.
“Alright, well! I’m going to go make sure my bike is tucked in now. G’night Peachboy, don’t let the Tasques bite!” He waves before sliding away. While Ralsei doesn’t think he has his bike anymore, much less a second bed for it, he’s too tired to ask.
The library is so quiet now, his footsteps echoing in a way that fills him with melancholic nostalgia. It was only a couple of days ago that his kingdom was completely empty. The prophesied heroes have come into his life and changed everything so quickly! They’ve only just met and yet…somehow, it feels so much longer than that. He hopes they’ll return soon, and the selfishness of that frightens him. That’s...not what he’s meant to be focusing on at all. Despite himself, there’s a prickling surge of guilt within him. The Lightners will return when the time is right! All in due time, on its due course. He just hopes Kris will be okay, that they will be able to hang in there until he scrounges up some information. Perhaps he simply missed something? Perhaps if he was better focused, this wouldn’t have caught him by surprise?
Perhaps he isn’t as good at this as he hopes he is.
This might be his fault, after all.
The thought makes him stumble, kicking his foot against a hardwood desk with a pained hiss. There’s only one book left now, a volume that’s stiff-spined and thin. The old binding smells of leather dye and parchment and he’d fished it from the very back of the library, in the far left corner where he hardly treads these days. He’d left its shelf neighbor laying sideways on its spine, jutting out from the shelf so that he’d know just where to return it. He can feel the glass Delta Runes’ gazes at his back as he retreats, their ambivalent weight driving him forward. It’s funny how the dark fountain’s strange luminescence ensures the library is never fully shrouded in darkness. It used to make him feel so comforted, but—
No, of course that hasn’t changed. It’s lovely, isn’t it?
Turning left to walk the length of the final shelf, he’s already thinking about hanging up his scarf and crawling into bed, but— something’s off. He tucks the book under his arm, sliding his paws beneath his glasses to rub at his eyes before taking a second look. He’s seeing this right. Slowly, he steps forward. There’s about three feet of space between the last row of bookshelves and the wall. The ancient carved wood paneling forms a neat rectangular pattern, small boxes perched beneath larger ones like rows of fat exclamation points lining the walls. But in the very corner, a door interrupts the flow. It doesn’t even neatly fall into the rectangular pattern, instead overlapping the edges of two separate ones as though someone has randomly slapped it in the middle. As if it’s a glitch. It doesn’t look like one of the fast travel doors he’s seen before, no multicolored flames of magic lick out from beneath the jamb. Ralsei blinks, tilting his head. It’s all he can do to replace the book on the shelf, seeking shelter in a mundanity that offers no real comfort. And then he’s left to turn and freeze at the strange threshold.
The door itself is grey, but not any grey he’s seen before. It’s as though someone pricked it with a needle and let the colors slowly drip out. Ashen. Muted. Sickly. It’s not a color that belongs to the natural world, and dim alarm prickles in the recesses of his mind. He doesn’t like looking at it, the otherworldly pallor setting the fur at the back of his neck on end. But somehow he can’t look away. Something holds his gaze by force. He knocks, because it’s the polite thing to do. But nothing happens.
Before he’s conscious of it, his paw is on the cold, colorless doorknob. It bites into the little pink pads like iced metal and for a moment he fears his hand will stick, like a tongue pressed to an ice cube. But then he’s turning the knob and letting it go. And then he’s stepping inside.
And the door’s closing itself behind him with a final, hollow thud.
It’s almost painfully cold where his bare feet touch the grey floor. The floor is without texture, unlike any material he’s encountered. It’s almost as though it lacks any substance at all. But what’s more unsettling is the way that the small square of space drops off into a blackness so deep he can’t even be sure that there are walls at all. If he isn’t careful, he could slip from the floor and fall forever. Behind him is the door, fit into that unending sea of black. It’s as though this is a pillar, suspended high in a frigid, starless sky. There’s something about the place that both lacks active hostility but is also so fundamentally indifferent as to be threatening all the same. He wraps his arms around himself protectively and freezes, gaze finally falling on the figure in the floor’s center.
It’s a man unlike any Darkner Ralsei has seen before. What may have once been a billowing black coat now melts around his misshapen body, licking at the floor in almost prehensile tendrils. The clothing oozes from him like tar, puddling and obscuring his feet. Painful-looking cracks erupt from the eyes in his round, bone-white head and all that’s left of his mouth is an indistinct black crescent. Despite his hunched shoulders, it’s obvious that he towers over Ralsei. There’s something pitiable and wretched in the sight, like his form is fighting to not lose what’s left of its shape altogether. Ralsei gets the firm impression that if he were to touch this man, his paws would come back sticky and black.
Finally, Ralsei finds his voice. It shakes, but the words are clear. “Pardon me, but who— who are you?”
Two white wraith-like hands lift from the inner confines of his dark mass and begin to float in a pattern Ralsei can’t understand.
👌︎☜︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ✌︎☞︎☼︎✌︎✋︎👎︎
A sound fills the air, screeching and horrible. There’s something almost mechanical about it. It’s as though it reaches him through multiple broken stereos, clipped and artifacted. He can’t pull apart the layered voices, the cacophony of it, into even one comprehensible string of words. It’s only garbage noise. But it’s loud and insistent and it hurts his head with a powerful, splitting tension that he’s never experienced before. He lets out a startled yelp and presses his ears to the sides of his head in the hopes of dampening the sound. When the man moves, he gives no indication of walking with any legs. He glides forward, the ooze carrying him in an eerie liquid motion. Suddenly, he’s reaching forward and pressing one incomplete palm to Ralsei’s forehead. The touch is ephemeral, tingling like magic and yet barely there. And then the sound coalesces. It de-fragments and the discordant strains of it focus into one droning noise. A voice. The man removes his hand and Ralsei can barely register the absence.
“HELLO, DEAR PRINCE.” The man’s grinning mouth does not move.
“Um...hello.” Slowly, Ralsei lowers his paws. “I’m— I’m sorry, but who are you? Where are we?”
“WORRY NOT ABOUT SUCH THINGS.” The black shape of him bends forward, as if getting a better look at Ralsei. “I HAVE BEEN WATCHING OVER YOU FOR LONGER THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.”
“I— you have?” He furrows his brows, picking nervously at his scarf’s knit.
“YOU HAVE DONE WELL WITH YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.” He regards Ralsei with a tilted head, but his expression is still frozen in place.
“I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He looks up, into this unchanging face.
He points to Ralsei’s heart, and Ralsei can’t even catch the motion. It’s as if the hand has always been there. And just as suddenly, it’s tucked against the man’s body again. “I THINK THAT YOU DO.”
Ralsei’s eyes grow wide, mouth opening around words he cannot conjure. He’s never questioned the mysterious source of his innate knowledge. It’s a gift, a result of his true purpose. The prophecy is etched into his very heart as a simple matter of course. It’s as much a part of him as his own fur, or his love of reading. It is him. “Are you— that doesn’t make any sense. I was just born like this. Nobody’s given me any instructions. I came into being just like any other Darkner.”
“IT IS NATURAL TO FEEL DOUBT AND DENIAL.” He pauses for a moment to bring a finger to his chin. “IS ALL THAT I HAVE BESTOWED UPON YOU NOT ENOUGH?”
“No, I— I’m grateful for everything that I have!” Ralsei insists, before he can even question the compulsion to do so in the first place. This man isn’t the Angel from the prophecy, nor does he strike Ralsei as the Knight. His energy is entirely different from that of the dark fountain. He doesn’t match anything at all. Ralsei has no frame of reference. His paws dig into his scarf anxiously and his voice grows quiet. “You’re not a Darkner, are you? Did you create this world?”
He seems pleased, somehow. “IT IS SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”
“So, you’re a Lightner?”
The man does not respond.
Ralsei tries again, “Do you think you can help me? I have a Lightner friend, and they’re in serious need. But I—”
💧︎❄︎☼︎✌︎✡︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ ☞︎☼︎⚐︎💣︎ ❄︎☟︎☜︎ 🏱︎✌︎❄︎☟︎
“THERE IS NO NEED. ALL IS RIGHT WITH THIS WORLD, DEAR PRINCE.”
Fear’s cold fingers drift down Ralsei’s spine. They spread like vines and chill him with a force he hardly comprehends. He can’t move, feet rapidly losing feeling against the icy floor. The words rattle him and grip at him like a commandment. His will desires to bend to them, a law he cannot break. Gritting his teeth, he wrenches his mouth open. “Th-their name is Kris. They’re one of the Heroes of Light and they need my help! There’s something controlling them, some other entity in their soul that shouldn’t be there. They’re in pain! I can’t let them down! So please, if you know anything at all about their situation—”
“KRIS IS ALREADY ON THEIR PATH. THEY NEED NOT BE FIXED. THEY NEED NOT BE HELPED. THE HAND OF FATE IS SURE AND TRUE. HASN’T THAT ALWAYS COMFORTED YOU?”
“This is cruel!“ He shouts, surprising himself.
✋︎ 💧︎🕆︎🏱︎🏱︎⚐︎💧︎☜︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ 💧︎✌︎👍︎☼︎✋︎☹︎☜︎☝︎☜︎ ✋︎💧︎ ⚐︎☠︎☹︎✡︎ ☠︎✌︎❄︎🕆︎☼︎✌︎☹︎
“YOU DOUBT THE PROPHECY, MY PRINCE?” The man’s mass gathers and rises, growing taller and gliding closer.
Ralsei finally stumbles until his back is pressed up against the door. An insidious trembling seizes him from the ground up.
“YOU AND YOUR LIGHTNER ARE SIMPLY NOT YET EQUIPPED TO UNDERSTAND.”
“Then let me understand!” He pleads, clasping his shaking paws together. “Please, I just want to help Kris. What do they need to understand? How can I help them understand?”
“YOU BEG FOR ABSOLUTION.” The man cups Ralsei’s face in his hands, a tingling numbness spreading through his soft fur at the touch. He tilts the prince’s head up to gaze into his unchanging countenance.
Ralsei does not falter. “Please. What do I need to know? How can we understand what’s happening to them? They’re so afraid.”
He moves one hand to press it against Ralsei’s forehead once more. The other still holds his chin in place. The world flickers and Ralsei’s breath catches painfully in his throat.
“YOU KNOW NOT FOR WHAT YOU ASK, CHILD. BUT IF YOU ARE INSISTING.”
And then all goes dark.
✋︎ 🕈︎✋︎☹︎☹︎ 💧︎☟︎⚐︎🕈︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎