Hollow

[Göth]

One shadow said to another, “Would you like to play a game?”

~Hollow Weir, Corone:

“Where…?”

It was painful to form the words, his lips cracking and bleeding, lungs burning with every breath. Darkness surrounded him, and a groggy haze obscured all the details, as if he had been asleep for a very long time. Uncertain of anything, except the searing pain that covered every inch of his body, the boy lay there, not attempting to move. Crisp, clear, but low, a voice that sounded as if thousands of people were whispering all at once, in perfect synch, entered his head.

Do you not remember?

“No…who…?”

Hahaha, you know me. I’m stronger now, Akuro. Don’t forget that.

It was his name, he knew it. Memories burst forward, images and faces and events passed before him. It had been a very long time since Akuro had last been in control, for he had won a victory over this creature inside him. In repentance, it had taken over every aspect of his life, surpressing him so deeply everything was a blur. Blood filled all of his half-conscious memories, covering everything, molding together the years. Nothing distinct could be recalled, except the thing’s name.

“Tsukazka…”

Exactly. Now, get up. You’re home.

“Home…?”

As if a light switch had been thrown, the fog that coated both his vision and his mind cleared and everything solidified. He was lying in a forest, a very dead and dark one, and a full moon rose high in the sky above. Dew-dampened grass spread out beneath him, dark and almost black, yet their edges glinting with an implacable metallic shine. Pushing himself up onto his hands, he felt the rough, dead soil beneath him in this one small patch where that strange grass did not grow. All around, dark ominous leafless trees loomed, watching over him, maybe waiting for him to die so they could use up his precious resources.

Not a single animal or creature moved, the twilight was utterly silent, so much that a soft ringing sounded in his ears.

None of this looked familiar, nothing that Akuro would call home. Despite not being able to remember much about his real home after all these strange years, he did recall vast green fields and beautiful cherry trees. Nothing akin to the dismal flora that he lay in.

Reaching one hand out to the grass, his curiosity caught by that unearthly moonlight glint, he ran his finger along one blade. A sting of pain that was barely noticed in the waves of soreness that ran through him shot out, a drop of blood welling up on his finger. Staring at that life fluid with wonder, a sing-song rhyme entered his head, the tune lost.

“I lie here in my garden of razors…”

The voice echoed in his head once more, distinctly agitated.

Yes. Home. Now get the hell up!

Standing on his bare feet, Akuro looked out into the darkness around him. There were no other dead patches in this seemingly endless field of blades, he’d have to walk. No direction looked any better than another, so he simply chose one, and began. Just as his first step into the blades was about to land, everything shifted. The trees grew taller, denser, and somehow more grim. Black buds and crimson roses formed upon their branches, and the grass fell into the ground, disappearing under the soil. Replacing it came a path made from slivers of bones pressed tightly together and sealed somehow into the ground, so tightly it forced a shining moonlit path through the suddenly changed forest.

Behind him, the meadow he came from was nothing but an arch to the side of the path, forlorn and forgotten. Barely noticeable in its dark brick from the black night that choked it.

Taking another step, worried that his surroundings would change again, Akuro was pleased to see that everything stayed the same. The bone path was very cold to the touch of his bare feet, and a strange sense of ease entered his body, making it very easy to continue moving, almost beckoning him south. Before the boy even realized what was happening he was moving at a brisk walk down the path. As he moved he heard a jingle, and among the sores and pains, he noticed that rough, rusted and blood-stained shackles were around his wrists. Thick metal, but the chain that would normally link them was shattered all the way up to one last link on each side.

Another memory. A prison, torture, murder, friends. Loss. Victory. Slavery.

“How did I get from there to here?”

I brought you.

Nodding, as if the voice inside his head could see it, he stopped for a moment and reached both hands out. By instinct, his palms opened wide and his mind released the dark energies it unconsciously held back. A breath of air moved through his entire body, as if a door had been opened somewhere within him. Darkness seeped out of his palms, forming two large rings at his finger tips, and then a black eerie liquid-like substance connected them. Pushing his hands within the gates until the shackles were submerged, he willed them into the shadows. To leave him and stay ready for another time. Upon withdrawing his hands, they were bare and pale, slightly cleaned then the rest of his scraped, cut, and dirtied arms.

With the shackles gone, smaller pieces of information about his own physical appearance began to filter through. Staring at his hands as he closed the gates, he saw that long-dried blood soaked them, caked under his fingernails and dying most of his skin. Cuts, scrapes, and new calluses had formed. Not only that, but he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that had been ripped and shredded at his elbows so that the rest of the cloth was long lost. Looking down at his body, his black shirt was soaked with blood as well, dark and sickly, falling overtop a pair of very baggy pants that once had chains and straps criss-crossing them. The chains were broken and most of the links missing, whilst the straps were cut and stripped, hanging loose from the rings that attached them to his pants. The bottom of the baggy bondage pants was torn so his dirty, battered feet showed. Every part of his skin was deeply pail, and his nails were pitch black.

“Why…why don’t I smell? Why am I not hungry…Why am I alive?”

There was no answer from the voice.

Letting go a deep sigh, he let his hands fall to his sides and drew his gaze back up again. Black blood-caked hair fell across his face, so long that it almost touched his chin. Pushing it aside and tucking it behind his ears, he moved forward, each step painful. But that pain kept back his thoughts, letting him move senseless forward.

To that town that glowed by candlelight on the horizon…

Hollow Weir…We’re home…

(Closed)

[Seraphima]

Duu, duu...duu duu. The sound a staff made against the dirt was much more subtle than the sound it made against stone, which was a tap, tap sound. The ground was also much different, it had its own random dips and rises, unlike the regular feeling over cobblestone. For a blind woman, traveling over natural dirt was something of an adventure, and it had been exciting the first time, several months in the past.

She'd been living on the island of Scara Brae then, but in a last, desperate bid for survival she had traveled to Corone, winding up in Gisela. She'd have liked to stay there, it had seemed nice enough...but her dog was leading her ever further from the city.

"Maurz, wait up." Sara sat down to rest as the pull on the lead slackened, and she leaned into her dog as his cold, wet nose pressed against the soft skin of her face. "I'm okay, Maurz," she reassured her eyes, gently running her fingers through his soft, thick fur. "Just tired...it's a long trip for me, and I don't know how much further we have to go."

She sighed softly, then started coughing, lightly at first, but then more and more severe, and she held tight to Maurz afterward, just catching her breath. Her lungs burned from the strain, and her throat and chest ached sharply. "I hope we find a place soon, Maurz."

She listened to her surroundings as she prepared once more to move. Even at this time of year, there should have been the crackling sounds of animals as they went, or bird songs in the trees...but there was nothing...just the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. "It's so quiet, Maurz." The blind woman felt the hairs raise at the back of her neck. Her skin prickled as well, all over her body, and it just added to her unease. "I don't like it."

She stood up, turning her head about uneasily, but still there was nothing...not even the slightest sigh of another life, save for the breath of her dog beside her. The only living things she could smell were plants...and without any animal scents added on, the forest felt hollow, haunted, and scary.

Sara gently dusted off the smooth linen of her dress and slid her left hand down to take Maurz's lead again. "Let's go, Maurz...I don't like it here..."

~*~

Another few hours passed with naught but her dog's company and the sound of her staff on the dirt, the sounds of the wind through trees shifted to the sound of breeze around sharp corners...which could only mean houses, and up ahead there was a murmur, as though people inhabited this otherwise lifeless place. After another minute, she felt a jolt run through her cane as the sound beneath it changed from "duu" to "tap," and she hurried forward, hoping that someone could tell her where she was.

The sound of people talking got louder and louder as she and Maurz ventured closer to the center of town, and then there was a very steep decline, but as soon as the ground leveled under her feet again, Sara found herself immersed in a light crowd. Voices rang out cheerfully from every which way as people chatted with friends and caught up on gossip. It sounded like a normal market to Sara's experienced ears, save for an odd quality to the voices that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She turned to search for someone that could tell her where she was and which direction would be best, but suddenly she felt a tightness in her lungs as another attack came on, and she started coughing. She hated these fits. All she could do was hold on to Maurz and let the agony of lung tissue trying to tear itself apart jolt through her tiny frame.

When the attack cleared up enough so that she could breathe again, Sara felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head toward the person. "Thank you, I'm all right," she said, more out of reflex than anything.

"I'd hardly call collapsing in the middle of the street 'all right," was the gentle response as a firm hand took her arm and started leading her away. The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman in good health, and had a concerned but light tone. "I'm Verandi, and my sister and I own a little pub not far from here, we'll get you a seat and a little brandy and a place to catch your breath. Now...who are you, and what of your companion?"

The poor blind woman hadn't even had a chance to get a word in edgewise, and had been shocked at the readiness of this woman to take her in that all she'd felt for a moment was the hand on her arm. Now she could hear the steps on the stone, Verandi wore boots, and Sara thought she MIGHT be wearing leggings, but she wasn't sure about the upper body. There was very little cloth rustling. She listened for a few more seconds, trying to learn about the woman who was leading her, before she remembered that she had been asked a question. She felt heat on her cheeks in response to her embarrassment, and hastily started to amend her silence.

"Oh...the dog's name is Maurizio -- but, but that's something of a mouthful, so he goes by Maurz. And I'm Seraphima, but that's also a mouthful, so I go by Sara."

"Maurz and Sara...both new here. So, welcome to Hollow Weir. We're a bit different here, but it's a nice little town. Here we are."

There was the creak of a door opening, and Sara found herself being lowered into a seat while Verandi called out to her sister Skuld that she was back, before heading through a different door. She sighed, grateful for the rest, and laid her hand on Maurz's head. "Some place you've found us, Maurz."

[Göth]

The night was dragging on, the boy only half conscious as his feet moved one by one down the road laid in bone. Silence ate the darkness around him, and burrowed into the shadows within him, dark and blurred memories of the past year randomly bubbling to the surface. Men, women, children, pleading for mercy, dying by his hand and sword, torn asunder and destroyed without cause or reason. Entire villages ripped to shreds, just because Tsukazka wanted to see blood. There was no motive behind any of it, no plundering, no feeding, just murder for the sake of hearing the death rattle of his victims.

The most horrible and hardest to comprehend aspect of it all, was that the entire time it was his hand, his face, his body and his weapons that destroyed the lives of those people. The goth wasn’t even certain of Tsukazka was real, so it might have just been the deranged fantasies of a askew youth.

As his thoughts drifted, the spooky candle-lit town grew ever closer, the forlorn gnarled wooden arch of its gate soon passing the boy overhead. A chipper happiness had spread like a plague across the citizens here, but as the blood-soaked and time-beaten boy moved in his shamble through the town, a new disease of confusion and anger sprung. Gasps cut off by whispers and muttering cropped up as soon as any of the previously peaceful townsfolk laid their eyes on the boy. Activity came to a halt, many simply coming to the center road to stare at his slow and unyielding progress.

Akuro knew this would happen, he remembered how much pain he had caused these people. But right now, none of that mattered, his pain was too much to care about anyone else’s. Not stopping, he raised his head and eyes to the far end of the town, where the bone path met another gate, forged of stone and blood, silhouetted by the ruins of a long-destroyed castle.

“Home…”

A soft smile formed on his face and his pace picked up, bare feet finding energy in the growing euphoria of the bone path. More people came out to watch, brought to the path by the quickly spreading rumor of the return of a forsaken one.

Akuro didn’t get far, though. Even has his feet slammed on the bone with a steady and almost happy rhythm, running through Hollow Weir as fast as he could, a bridge approached ahead of him. As that bridge rose in his sight, so did a memory, and it halted his feet. As if on cue with the memory, a tall woman with long, flowing black hair stepped out of the gathering crowd onto the road, her face resembling an aged version of the face that flashed in his mine. Aged, and sisterly. As she spoke, her voice cut deep into Akuro’s soul, ice lining its vowels and daggers sharpening its consonants.

“Boy…you were not supposed to return. When you left, we rejoiced. Now, you are back. Why shouldn’t we kill you for the atrocities you brought to us?”

The boy’s head dropped, his eyes closing quickly, unable to meet her stare. Searching inside for an answer, he found none. But, as the tension in the crowd and that woman grew, he spoke up, quietly, soft enough for everyone to grow silent to listen.

“I…I…I just want to go home…”

Raising his head, dark eyes met his as he watched her expression. At first she was still heartless, then anger grew on her countenance. It was as if she grew mad with herself for not being able to kill him, and that was something he couldn’t understand. But, alas, she drew herself aside and scoffed, pushing through the crowd to return to the Jostled Skull Tavern.

“Thank you, Skuld,” he whispered to nobody in particular, and began walking again with a lowered head, “and…I’m sorry.”

----------------------------

”A Game?” One shadow asked another…

“Yes, a game of souls.”

----------------------------

The boy stood within the shadow of the castle, the sun rising on his left. It seemed as if the whole sea were on fire, setting aflame the ruins of his home.

Castle Matsuyami…how touching. Why in Haide are we here?

“You…don’t know? Didn’t you bring me here?”

No…

Disconcerting as it was that neither of them could remember how they got here, the boy proceeded into his home. Maybe he would just stay here the night, and then head out the next day, so as to not trouble the people of Hollow Weir too much. But, as he walked through the gate, a strange sensation burst through his body. It was as if a cold breeze was running through his veins, spreading inside him, and out again.

When he looked up, a manor rose before him, grand and beautiful. Flying buttresses and amazing gothic arches, fully intact and kept, framing gorgeous windows. As the sun rose above the sea, the engraved stonework lit up vibrantly, and impossibly. A castle that was seconds ago in ruins now stood in its full glory, surrounded by a lively garden of incredible allure.

“N…no…it…is…I…everything…so…wow”

Falling to his knees, the boy could do no better than to stare at his home, that should by all rights be dust and rubble. Then…he heard a voice.

“Akuro! You’re home!”

“A…Ayane?

[Seraphima]

The history stated here was told me by Goth, so hopefully it's okay. If it's not, he can tell me and I can change it.
Verandi was only gone a few minutes before she returned with a drink for Sara. She encouraged the blind girl to drink it, even though it was somewhat bitter and burned the throat.

"It's just a little bit of brandy, dear, and maybe it will clean out your lungs. That was quite a fit you had."

Sara nodded gently, trying to choke down another sip of the foul stuff. "Thank you for your concern. If I may ask...what is Hollow Weir, exactly? Since I've been here, I haven't heard any birds singing, or anything of the sort."

A warm tone entered the middle aged woman's voice as she smiled. "Yes...you're blind like I am, so you don't know."

"You're bli --" started Sara, but when the older woman cleared her throat, she hushed.

"Hollow Weir is a very special place...and a very happy place, despite everything strange and tragic that has happened here. And we hope that it will remain that way."

Almost as if on an ironic cue, the merry bustle of people just outside fell silent, as though suddenly muted by a hand from above. Across the table, Sara heard the slightest rustle of clothes as her hostess stiffened.

"SKULD! Skuld, he's back!"

Another voice, similar in timbre, called out from a few yards away and a little bit down, "WHAT?!" before footsteps rushed out the door. There were a few moments of tense silence, and then angry and suspicious mumbling, followed finally by Skuld's accusatory and angry words, and a voice so soft responding that Sara couldn't make anything out. As he left, the crowd dispersed again, but the happy façade had been broken for the day, just with the appearance of one boy.

Skuld stormed back into the tavern and started rearranging things furiously -- bottles, glasses, kegs -- her wares the victims of her rage against the boy that had dared return.

After a moment and another hesitant sip of her drink, Sara dared lift her head to Verandi. "What...if I may ask...what just happened?"

The older woman sighed. "I won't burden you with everything...but I will tell you enough that you might understand. A long time ago, when Hollow Weir was founded, the local spirits were bargained with by a family called Yami'no'Matsuei, that everyone that resides within might have a unique gift to call their own. Hollow Weir grew and flourished, with its unique but peaceful people. Much magic and darkness gathers here at certain times of year -- no worries, darling. It's not that time now. The Yami'no'Matsuei family became the most powerful of all, our kings and queens. Only rarely did another as powerful appear in Hollow Weir, and they were always very special children.
"Time passed, as it does. Our royal family shortened their name until it became simply 'Matsuyami.' That boy is the last of their descendants. Because of him, several years ago, there were many deaths in this town. The rest of our royal family was wiped out, as well as a few girls he was known to associate with. After that, he disappeared, and we never thought we'd see him again."

"And we should have killed him for reappearing," snapped Skuld in her rage.

"But surely he's ch -- " Sara's words were interrupted by a gentle cough, followed shortly by several others until she was leaning against the table, just praying that the fit would end soon.

"Skuld! Quickly, a blanket," called Verandi, hovering over Sara, concerned. Maurz nudged her leg, but she wasn't even able to give him reassurance yet. After a moment, there was a rustle as Verandi threw the blanket....

---------------------
"See? There is one soul," the shadow continued. "And here's another. Won't they make a pretty game?"
---------------------

"A...CHOO!" Sara straightened up. What had just happened? She'd gone from feeling her lungs tearing themselves to shreds to...a sneeze. And her chest wasn't aching like it had been for months...she felt better than she had in ages.

"Bless you," said Verandi cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder. "Right or left nostril?"

"I...well, I don't know, really..."

"They say that when you sneeze, it means someone is talking about you behind your back. Right nostril, it's something good, and left is something bad. But you're such a sweet girl that no one could speak any ill of you. So we'll say it's the right nostril."

"Umm...all right..."

"Anyway, like I was telling you, Prince Akuro has returned. He's been long absent. It's a pleasure to see him home, not like his brother..."

"His brother," sniffed Skuld. "A bad one, all the way through."

"I'm...confused...as if everything just changed..." Sara rubbed her forehead.

"You've come to Hollow Weir, dear. Of course everything just changed," said Verandi with a smile. "Now, you've plenty to see, go on."

Sara reached out to see if she still had her drink or not, and she did, so she stood up. "Thank you for the drink...how much do I owe you?"

"First one's free, child, even though you did only choose cold tea. Who does that at a bar, I don't know, but you did. Now go on, and have fun, dearie."

Tea? But wasn't it brandy? ... Well...come to think of it...my mouth doesn't burn, and there's no unpleasant lingering taste...it tastes like I had a nice cup of cool mint tea...with lemon. How...?

"Hollow Weir is a wonderful place to explore," chimed in a third voice before Sara could reflect any longer on the sudden and unexplained changes. The voice was similar to Skuld's and Verandi's, but a little lighter. "I'm sure you'll love it."

"I...um...thank you," said Sara, taking Maurz's lead. "Come on, Maurz. Let's go."

She let her dog lead her out along the road, and after a few steps, her staff made a different sound on the road, a toom sound, as though she'd hit a crystal of some sort. As soon as she stepped on the new material of the road, she felt something wash through her...a sense of lightness and joy that was both unfamiliar and wonderful. Maurz tugged on the lead, and she followed him.

Everything was different now, Sara reflected. When did the third person come into the tavern? It was really too early for people to be drinking...and she was sure she hadn't heard the third one before. She sighed, feeling her breath condense in the cool air of the early morning. Even the people were different. The angry and suspicious rumblings that Sara had been aware of just before she sneezed had been completely eradicated. In its place the merry bubbling of the crowd was back -- no, intensified. There was a buzz of excitement in the air.

Suddenly, a hand was placed on her shoulder, and Sara turned toward the speaker.

"Did you hear?" he asked her, elation lancing through his voice. To Sara, he sounded like a child who had been told he could have all the toys he wanted from the toy store, even though his voice identified him as a man in his mid-thirties.

"Oh! I'm sorry, stranger, I thought you were a towns person." Suddenly, Sara was wrapped in a tight hug before a pair of big hands were placed on her slender shoulders. "Welcome to Hollow Weir on this most joyous of days, stranger. You see, our prince, the heir guardian, has returned to us after a four year absence. This is a most momentous occasion...and you're just here to share in our joy. Here," he said, placing a smooth, roughly spheroid fruit in her hand. "Have an apple. Good for the heart, you know."

Before Sara could even thank him, the man was gone, and she slipped the fruit into her pocket so she could still walk with Maurz and her cane.

This day is getting more and more curious. By the minute.

[Göth]

It was a voice he had not heard in years, so many that he had lost count now. Between the blood baths, massacres, and wanton destruction, the light chime and sweet symphony of vocal chords had been forgotten. One that played on the edges of his nightmares, a tiny firefly of light keeping a fraction of his sanity alive. Nothing but a memory, however, for it should not exist. Never to sing again, for he had extinguished that voice, and doused that light. Closing his eyes, the boy searched deep inside him for that dark place where the demons hid. Pleading, he leapt into the darkness.

- - - -

A single circle of light surrounded him, falling down from some spot infinitely far above. The darkness around ate at that spotlight, writhing and slithering along it’s edges. Looking forever for weak spots, trying to break it’s perfect sphere of illumination. Held safe only by that sliver of light, Akuro stood and stared into the black abyss. Not at it, but past it, at what hid within that morbid lack of sanity and conscience.

“Tsukazka! Explain yourself! Where are we, what have you done? What trick is this? I’m bloody tired of you screwing with my head.”

Hollow laughter echoed from the black depths, coming from all directions at once. This was his realm, and here, he is everywhere. For the first time in as long as he could remember, a blood-soaked cloth-wrapped hand reached out of the solid darkness and hit with a thud within the circle of light. Grasping the ground, it writhed for a moment then was followed by a body. Covered entirely in bleeding wounds and black cloth bandages, the twisted creature emerged from his realm and rested, exhausted, at the edge of the light. He appeared exactly the same as Akuro, except ripped and torn, bloody and bruised. Tsukazka simply wore a grin, and laughed again.

”Are…you…tricking me…boy? Did you…find…some way…to…bring that slut…back?”

Shocked, Akuro backed off for a moment. He had never faced this inner demon before, and now that it stood before him, it could do no more than confuse him. Each thought trickery was being done on the other, but the boy knew he had no hand in this. As Tsukazka watched, his mocking eyes slowly grew genuinely awed, and the hollow laughter rang out yet again.

”We are played with…boy. You…find them…

- - - -

As Akuro woke back into consciousness, a figure stood above him, framed by the morning light. Long raven-black hair fell around his face, and a kind smile above. Lowering slowly and sweetly, the girl placed a soft kiss on his lips and then backed away. Standing and offering a hand, the light fell on her in full, lighting up her black silky pants and red robe. More beautiful than he ever remembered, Ayane stood above him, his breath taken away by the kiss.

“Sweetie, are you okay? Was it a long trip?”

Taking her hand, he simply nodded, letting her help him stand. As he stood, he glanced down, and was surprised to find that his own garments were entirely different. Flowing from his body were royal dark colors of the Matsuyami family, embroidered with a soft moon-silver and red thorn design. Casual pants, a black doublet, and no under shirt letting the soft tattoos on his muscled arms show. All of the wounds that were festering and fresh moments before were now gone, and the boy’s body entirely clean. Ruffling his still unkempt hair, he saw the blood-red streak pass before his eyes and smiled.

“I…feel great, actually.”

Ayane grinned at him and hugged him gently. Pulling away after a moment, her hand sneaked into his and she pulled him back through the archway out of the courtyard. Following her in sweet surrender, his eyes swept Hollow Weir and saw that it was joyous, amazingly so. The Elder Trees grew once again along the path of bones, giving the entire village a gorgeous entryway that they were now heading towards. Soft red cherry petals covered the ground on either side of the path, lit by dawn. Ahead, the village bustled with early-morning activity. The marketplace that ran through the center in the chasm of an old river was filled to the brink with merchants and foreigners. Many had come to see some event, and Akuro guessed it may be one of the holidays in Hollow Weir.

“Which holiday are they here to celebrate? Those others, I mean.”

Ayane turned and laughed sweetly, slowing to look at his face and then grin when she saw the genuine ignorance.

“Sweetie…they are here to see you! Everyone is so happy that you’ve come back, after being gone for so many years. So, you better just put up with it for now, and then we can have the rest of the night together.”

The thought of spending an entire night with Ayane lifted Akuro’s heart, and he simply nodded happily as she led him into the village. Whatever had happened, it was for the better, it seems. Everyone was happy, Ayane alive, his castle in tact, and Tsukazka beaten down to weakness.

“Thank you…whoever…did this,” the boy whispered into the air with a smile, then followed his love with a joyous pace.