In the hush of a cool summer night, Noir lay asleep in bed, bathed in the gentle glow seeping through his door's narrow opening. The stillness enveloped him like a blanket of tranquility, cradling him and the room in a warm embrace.
The ambient glow expanded as the door creaked open, breaking the tender silence. Mona, Noir's mother, entered with a graceful quietness. Her figure cast a delicate silhouette against the light. Strands of her brown, wavy hair cascaded down her back, catching subtle highlights in the soft illumination.
Her steps, measured and gentle, spoke of a quiet strength and a mother's touch. A faint smile graced her lips, reflecting the kindness and caring nature that defined her as she entered the room, dressed in her favorite Crescent Parish University sweatshirt—a cozy emblem of familiarity from her alma mater in the kingdom's capital.
With a flick of a switch, Mona brightened up the room, revealing the familiar contours of Noir's haven. As her gaze wandered, sweet memories came to mind. Posters from the Crescent Parish Jubilee they went to earlier that summer clung to the wall, beads from the Triad Day Parade hung from the closet door knob, and a masquerade mask from a mother-son ball they went to the year before sat on the dresser across the room.
Mona sat on the edge of Noir's bed, grabbing a framed photograph from his nightstand—a picture of Noir, his father, and herself. The photograph captured a precious moment—a selfie Mona took with her instant print camera. In the background, Noir proudly fought to reel in a catfish as his father, Marcelo, stood by in anticipation with a net, ready to scoop it from the water.
Returning the photo to its place, Mona reached her arm over Noir just as he began to awaken. Slowly stirring in the warm glow of the room, Noir seamlessly transitioned from the realm of slumber to the quiet reality of the peaceful summer night. As his eyes fluttered open, Mona greeted him with a soft smile.
"Good evening, sleepyhead. What were you dreaming about?"
With a tired stretch, Noir rubbed his eyes before responding. "Nothing," he replied after yawning, his voice still heavy with sleep. "Sometimes I realize I'm asleep and my mind takes a break, but my body still senses things around me." He shifted slightly in bed as he spoke, adjusting to the warm atmosphere around him.
"I know just what you mean. You're void of all thought but still aware of the energy around you," Mona replied, a little surprised but not shocked at his level of introspection.
Sounds like a mix of sleep paralysis and lucid dreaming. Impressive. He's just as aware of himself as I was when I was six, she thought to herself. Well, this is my son, after all. Maybe one day he'll take an interest in dreams and what happens when we sleep, just as I did, and become an Oneirologist, she smiled to herself.
"Is dad home yet?" Noir asked unexpectedly, changing the conversation as he looked past his mother through the doorway.
"Straight to that guy, huh? You push me aside so quickly, Noir," she quipped, her tone dramatic and filled with humor as she winced, gripping the fabric of her sweater over her chest.
Mona and Marcelo always made it a point to engage in good-humored rivalry to see who could garner the most affection from Noir, even though he loved them equally. But despite her playful banter, her smile faded. A cloud of uncertainty cast a shadow over her expression. She had no knowledge of her husband's whereabouts or if he was safe. She had hoped to avoid the subject until they'd left home, but it seemed she'd have to indulge the question at least a bit.
"No," Mona admitted—concern hidden behind her words. "Your father… He's…" Mona struggled to find the right explanation as she noticed the disappointment etched on Noir's face. She knew he'd tried waiting for his father to return home before falling asleep. His expression prompted Mona to regain her composure, forcing a smile to mask her worries.
"Actually," she continued, "we'll meet him at your Nénènn-yé lamézon. We're going to be staying there for a few days, so get dressed."
Noir's face lit up with excitement at the mention of Nénènn. "Godmother?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with anticipation.
"Yep, we'll be staying for a few days, so pack enough clothes," Mona said as she stepped over to the doorway, leaning against its frame.
"Okay!" Noir's response carried a burst of enthusiasm as he threw off his covers.
His godmother was the only other family member he knew besides his parents. His godmother and him were especially close, despite her not being an actual relative but a close friend of the family. With her being an only child and Noir being her only godson, she always made sure to spoil him whenever the family visited. He was almost like the little brother she never had. She always made sure to cook his favorite meals and have the radio set to frequency 107, a station popular for its music unique to the kingdom as well as its audio dramas.
Dashing over to his dresser, he pulled open a drawer and reached inside. His mind was already buzzing with thoughts of his godmother's warm cooking and the fun times that awaited.
MEANWHILE, WITH DELIBERATE MOVEMENT, MONA STEPPED INTO HER BEDROOM, absorbing its quietness. She'd been doing her best to hold herself together for Noir, but little by little, her fear and anxiety were getting to her nerves.
Upon entering, she turned to a specific drawer in her dresser. A wooden jewelry box with a delicately centered draw latch lay hidden in the back among the neatly folded clothes.
She traced its edges as she placed it atop her dresser. With a click, it slowly opened, revealing a secret she'd kept hidden from her loved ones—one she held close to her heart. This item, crafted during her pregnancy, had been with her since before the conception of her son.
She gazed at it briefly, filled with melancholy, before taking a needle from the box. Pricking her thumb, a single drop of blood welled up. Carefully, she pressed it to the item, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her as she stood there shivering.
Pull it together, Mona, she thought to herself. We cannot let him see us like this. Even within her thoughts, her voice quivered, though her determination remained steadfast.
"Noir," she called out.
"Yeah, Mom?" Noir answered, already standing in the doorway. His sudden presence caught her off guard.
"Oh, there you are," she reacted nervously, concealing the item behind her back. "All packed?"
"All packed!"
Mona walked over to Noir, kneeling to get at eye level with him. She placed her hand on his shoulder before taking a moment to say, "Your father and I love you very much, my handsome boy."
Noir's face lit up with a radiant smile. "I love you too!"
Mona leaned towards him, their foreheads touching gently as a moment of silence passed between them—their intimate connection as mother and son becoming palpable.
"I have something for you," Mona whispered softly. "Close your eyes."
Obediently, Noir closed his eyes. A sense of wonder coursed through him with an anticipation that could be seen on his face.
Mona removed her hand from behind her back, revealing the item—a modestly crafted doll sewn from jute fiber with a clasp around its neck. The simplicity of its form belied the depth of its meaning. The brown fabric and twine string held a blank canvas that had been contrasted with an intricate symbol formed by Mona's blood. Blood that had been branded into its torso, creating a rare design—one representing the mother, the father, and the child.
Reaching around Noir, she delicately knotted the string, allowing the doll to rest against his chest. The unassuming necklace now carried the weight of a mother's love and a secret connection only they shared.
Dragging her finger across the symbol, Mona grappled with the gravity of her actions. The weight of her decision sat heavily upon her shoulders, acutely aware that no one, especially Noir, would willingly accept such a gift if they fully comprehended its implications.
"Okay, you can open your eyes now."
Opening his eyes, Noir looked down at the necklace, his gaze filled with curiosity and awe. "What is it?" he asked.
Mona smiled, her eyes gleaming with affection. "Well, I didn't plan on giving it to you until you were older, but now is a good time. This is a special necklace, Noir. It will keep you safe and allow me to be with you wherever you go."
"Like a good luck charm?"
"Exactly," she nodded. "It's the luckiest charm anyone can ever hope to have, so never take it off, my dear."
Noir marveled at the necklace, his eyes analyzing every bit of its stitching and fabric. "Wow, my own good luck charm!" Yet a thought suddenly clouded his innocent expression. Furrowing his brows, he looked to his mother. "But why would I need protection when you and Dad are here?"
Mona's smile began wavering as a flicker of worry crossed her face. Searching for the right words, she was torn between shielding her son from the harsh reality setting upon them or exposing the truth about their family.
"Well–" before Mona could finish her sentence, a thunderous bang shook throughout the house, resonating from the front door. Mona's attention was immediately drawn to the source of the disturbance, her heart pounding with apprehension. No! The barrier around the house must've been disrupted, she surmised.
Again, the house shook as the front door was struck.
Tightly gripping Noir's hand, she fled the room. "It's time to go."
Mona guided Noir down the hallway, their bare feet silent against the ceramic-tiled floor as the tension grew thick but still. But before they could pass the opening in the hallway that led to the living room, a final deafening crash shattered the quietness.
On cadence, the house shook. The front door exploded inward and shattered into fragments as dust and debris filled the air. Mona instinctively shielded Noir as large portions of the door hurtled toward him. The impact left her covered in splinters with a head injury that caused blood to run down her face.
Amid the chaos, a figure emerged from the entrance, its mischievous grin emitting malice. "Anyone home?" Lionel's voice dripped with malicious intent as his eyes fixed on Mona and Noir.
Bloodied but determined, Mona pushed through her pain, turning to Noir. "You're alright, aren't you?" she asked in a low tone, more so as a statement of reassurance than a question, despite her quivering voice. "Noir, I need you to run. Run until you reach Nénènn. You remember how to get there, right?" she asked as yet another statement of reassurance.
Fear coursed through Noir's veins as he looked at his mothers injuries—his heart aching with worry. "Mom, you're bleeding." He trembled as he watched blood run down the side of her face.
"It's just a scratch," she joked, masking her pain with a brave front.
The sounds of broken glass crunching beneath footsteps began drawing near as Lionel stepped through the entrance.
"Go now. I'll be right behind you," Mona hurriedly instructed in an attempt to get Noir far away from the present danger.
"But, mom."
"Run now, Noir! Get far away from here!"
Noir's eyes welled up as he hesitated. With the emotions within him intertwining, he finally mustered the strength to speak out. "Fine, but you better meet me there!" Noir's words carried shades of fear and defiance. Turning away, he sprinted toward the door at the end of the hall, his heart pounding in his chest.
Mona's words turned to a mere breath of acceptance as she uttered her goodbye. "I can tell you're frustrated with me. My intentions aren't to upset you, but for one of us to survive. If, in time, you come to resent me for the decisions I've made, I will accept your judgment. Oh, my sweet aster child, I won't have to find you, I'll already be with you."
Reaching the side door, Noir's hands trembled as he grasped the knob. Without hesitation, he swung the door open, ready to escape the danger looming behind him. Yet, to his surprise, a tall, pale figure stood on the other side—an eerie being with a twisted face, as if being consumed by a swirling black hole, rendering him featureless. His clothing was made of tight black leather fabric covered in zippers.
Fear seized Noir, freezing his body in place. His legs became so weak that a mere lump in the rug was all it took for him to trip and fall to the ground.
The pale figure, Wayfe, stepped forward, his presence terrifying and unexplainable. He extended a hand towards Noir—his intentions unknown.
"Wayfe, dispose of the child," Lionel's voice echoed from behind, his words laden with sinister amusement.
Wayfe reached closer, his grip ready to tighten and snatch Noir away. The air thickened as Noir's world crumbled before him.
In that desperate moment, a voice resonated within Mona's mind—the voice of Géri, her Ego Spirit, speaking through the vessel in her pocket.
In the tongue of the Egos, he spoke, Mona Bordeaux, on this night, you have prepared yourself for a noble sacrifice, Géri echoed. His tone served as both acknowledgment and warning as they conversed in an ancient language lost to mankind. In return, I shall bestow upon you the full extent of my power. But be warned, such power comes with a heavy toll—one you have been made aware of before. If you are aligned with this sentiment, you need only speak the words, my child.
Mona reached into her pocket, retrieving the vessel that held the spirit of Géri, the Ego of healing and restoration—a second-tier spirit of Enho.
She clutched it tightly, her gaze locked on its intricate form as her resolve solidified. Memories of her son's smile flashed through her mind, bright and pure, fueling her decision.
"I accept," she declared.
With solemn finality, she secured the vessel around her neck, embracing both its power and the inevitable price. Taking a steadying breath, she lifted her hands before her, summoning the unseen force now surging through her body.
"Spirit of the Ego's, Géri, bestow upon me your insurmountable radiance!" she cried, her voice carrying her strength.
A brilliant light flared from the symbol on the Ego Vessel, radiating between her hands. A sphere of brilliant energy took shape, pulsating with raw power. Mona aimed the ball of energy directly at Wayfe, her intention clear—to protect her son at all costs.
With a surge, the ball of light shot forth like a blinding beam, tearing through the air with an unstoppable force. It struck Wayfe with a devastating force, ripping through the house and leaving ruin in its wake. The impact blasted a gaping hole into the wall, allowing the night to spill through its jagged remains.
As the dust settled, the aftermath of Mona's desperate act was revealed. Both Noir and Wayfe were nowhere to be found.
Heart hammering, she stumbled forward, stepping through the wreckage. "Noir? Noir?!" she called out, her words echoing into the night. But there was no response, only silence and the lingering presence of devastation.
A sharp breath caught in her throat. Her hands flew over her mouth, her thoughts spiraling. Oh no, did I–? The question lodged in her mind, a terrifying possibility she wasn't ready to face.
I understand your frustration, my child, but now is not the time.
Lionel emerged from behind, quite amused. "Let's not forget about poor old me. Papa Lanmo doesn't like to be ignored."
Mona whirled around, her eyes burning with fury and grief. "Lionel!" she roared, placing her hands together, flat against one another. An unrestrained and powerful energy flowed within her. Raging light formed in her palms, brighter and more volatile than before.
"You'll pay for this," she vowed, her voice trembling with rage.
The air crackled with energy as Mona's hands separated. As they grew further apart, a gassy yet static substance began emitting from them.
Once again, Géri's voice echoed in her mind, guiding her through the storm.
Offensive or defensive, it matters not with this ability. All you need to do is land as many touches as you can before uttering the phrase, 'Reaver Soul' and its effect will activate.
Mona's breath grew hard and fast, her entire being alight with purpose. "Spirit of the Ego's, Géri, grant me your strength!" The words tore from her throat, less a plea and more a battle cry.
And for the first time ever, Géri answered her in her own tongue.
As you wish, my child.
WAYFE, WHOSE TELEPORTATION ABILITY WAYFARER ENABLED A SWIFT ESCAPE, materialized deep within Meteor Kingdom's largest swamp, Mille Dan. Collapsing to his knees, he clutched his injured arm where Mona's blast struck. Black blood seeped from the wound, sloshing onto the ground next to him.
"Sheesh, that was a bit close," Wayfe grunted through his pain. "A second later, and I would've been done for. I panicked and teleported the brat before myself instead of both of us at once." Wayfe exhaled sharply. "My what a devoted dog I've become.
His eyes flicked around the area, scanning for any sign of Noir. "Only problem is, everything happened so fast that my placement was off, and I lost the kid. Surely I couldn't have been too far off."
Attempting to push himself up, his body gave out, sending him back to the ground with a pained grunt. Blood dripped from his wounds as he let out a low chuckle. "Gotta hand it to her—that woman's aim was spot on. She would've turned me to dust and left the kid unscathed. That sort of control is unnatural. Those Ego Users really are a bunch of freaks." He scoffed, pausing in realization. "Ha, but who am I to talk? After all, I–"
A rustling nearby snapped Wayfe's attention to the treetops. Noir tumbled down, crashing into the shallow swamp water below.
Despite the pain, Wayfe pushed himself up, limping toward Noir, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
Blurred vision plagued Noir as he lay barely able to move. "Where am I?" He rubbed his fingers together, registering the wet sensation. "Is this water?"
What? Wayfe wondered to himself. How is a child still conscious after traveling between dimensions like that? I guess humans in general are a bunch of freaks. It's no skin off my back, though. He'll be dead soon, and Papa Lanmo will be one step closer to taking over the kingdom and accomplishing his grand scheme.
As Noir struggled to focus his vision, Wayfe's figure loomed over him. The twisted being grabbed him by the throat, attempting to drown him. He tightened his grip as he pushed Noir below the water's surface. Noir splashed and fought back, desperately trying to break free. He managed to grab Wayfe's arm, squeezing it with all his strength. Still, it elicited no reaction whatsoever as bubbles began surfacing.
A gunshot rang through the swamp, startling birds into flight and sending snakes slithering back into their dens. The water around them turned black as Wayfe collapsed to the side from a hole in his head.
Rapidly rising, Noir began coughing up water and gasping for air. His blurred vision made everything seem unreal, but he still managed to turn his head, desperately searching for a familiar face.
"Mom?! Mom, is that you?!" he cried out, tears streaming down his face. He sat there completely disoriented as a womanly figure approached, crouching before him.
"Mom? Mom, you found me!" he exclaimed, reaching out to her with open arms.
The blurry woman shook her head, her voice laced with sympathy. "You poor thing, I'm not your mother." Without warning, she struck him with the butt of her revolver, and darkness claimed him.
DEEPER WITHIN THE SWAMP, IN THE DIMLY LIT CONFINES OF A LOST TOURIST steamboat, the woman—Cyllene—sat on a stack of worn mattresses, Noir's head resting on her lap. Hovering her hand above him, she invoked her spell-like power, reaching into his mind to take his memories.
"I'm sorry, Wayfe," she murmured, her voice soft but cold. "You've been a valuable asset to my family, but I couldn't let you kill this child. He hasn't served his purpose yet. The Bordeaux name is far too precious. After all, it's the key to bringing my own plan to fruition."
Noir groaned softly in his sleep, his memories slowly being stripped away. "Don't worry," Cyllene continued, her tone laden with twisted comfort. "I'm not going to hurt you. What I'm doing will ease your mind."
As her spell reached its completion, she glanced down at the necklace resting on Noir's chest. Her gaze sharpened. "That necklace—how does he have one at such a young age?" She frowned, sensing something off about it. "It's far less flashy than the others I've seen." She reached out, curiosity getting the better of her, but as her fingers brushed against it, a shock of energy jolted through her, causing her to recoil in surprise. "You little—ugh!"
Moonlight filtered through a hole in the ceiling, casting a soft glow across her face. She gazed up at it for a moment, a contemplative expression crossing her features.
"Fine, I'll leave you that," she muttered. "I should get going. Lionel should be finishing up soon." With a final glance at Noir, she turned toward the stairs leading to the upper deck. "Until next time, Noir Bordeaux," she whispered, before disappearing into the darkness of the swamp.