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She had found her way back to the stairs again. Strange.

[ entering ]


He did not worry too much about the blackness. Darkness had always been a part of him, regardless of the grand regalia of his beloved Edric. A part of him yearned to return to it, back to his world, back to everything that he had loved and held dear.

But there was no going back. Not anymore.

And there was no escaping it.

As he stepped into the room, it engulfed him, filling his vision and making the world around him steeped in shadows. He stood there momentarily, blind, deaf, and mute, feeling the rush of something pull him in, hearing the Voice inside of his mind like an old friend.

Or an old enemy.

The Pride of the Great King. It was a word he knew well, a phrase that rang through him. Beneath his feet the floor sloped downwards, and he could feel, if he stretched out hands, the cold, smooth surface of what felt to be a pillar of sorts.

He stumbled; his foot had hit something on the ground, what felt to be some sort of grooves. He stretched out his fingers, touching them gently to the ornate fixtures, but all he could feel was cold.

A smooth, flat cold.

His confidence bolstered by the solid ground beneath his fingers, the boy continued to crawl around the room. He reached one hand out in front of him and encountered another object. It was tiered, but flat... Leading upward... Stairs?

The voice began talking again. Speaking in his head while he wandered blindly around the room. Tired of bumping his head, the child got to his feet...

And bumped his head on something above him. He felt around the surface, until he felt an edge... His hands explored as he finally, carefully stood up. It was a table. Of all the places he could have picked to stand up, it was under a table...

On it was a book. His Ma and Pa had taught him to write... But he couldn't read it like this...

[Entering]

When Kiwi entered, he found himself lost within a black void. How very appropriate. First deaf, and then mute. Now he was blind as well. It seemed he must rely on his sense of touch instead.

The Voice spoke, reverberating through his innermost thoughts.

"There once was a Great King and he commanded a Great army. When he passed away he left in his place a void, which could not be fulfilled by all who loved and were created by him. His creations however, could not see the King's legacy go unfulfilled, and thus sought to find his heir, his successor. From seven candidates there would be one crowned the True King, the heir to the Great King's place. He who received such a title, would receive power, and the Pride of the Great King."

Kiwi's brow furrowed. So then, was he to believe, the 'True King' could not be crowned from among the illusions, the fragmented memories?? ... Or to the contrary, was the Voice that of the memories themselves?? ...

The ground shook momentarily, disrupting his thoughts.

"What good is it now, the long dream has ended. There is no True King, none will ever surpass, or even shadow in mimicry the greatest King of all. This is my Pride and my downfall and to it, I admit defeat. Find me, if you can, and I will deliver my last promise."

He stumbled forward, and was shocked as he fell against something. It was cool to the touch, metal by the feel of it. And it almost seemed to vibrate with energy, humming, as though impossibly alive. He could sense a coldness rolling off it as he felt it higher. A chair, no-

A throne. The throne of Pride, he realized. By the base of the throne, something glimmered, and he could actually make out the words: "Call my true name".

Kiwi thought a moment, and decided it best to have look about the room. if this was even a room at all.

And finally, at the final door, she read the words and grimaced. Already deaf and mute, but now she would be blind as well? With an intake of breath, she braced herself, and pushed herself through into blackness. .

It was bizarre. She could not hear, but she could still think. She could not see, but she could still feel. She could not speak, but...well, who would be able to hear her if she did? The woman stepped into the room, slowly and carefully. This was not what she had signed up for.

Her hands stretched carefully in front of her, she turned her body from side to side, feeling the soft brush of fabric against the finger tips, the stir of air as something went past, but nothing more until...there! Something solid. She moved towards it faster, her hand pressing against it, using it like a lifeline, something to remind her that this was all real. She raised her other hand to the hard but smooth surface, feeling around, and then up, and then...

Cold. Wet. Her hand had dipped into what she could only assume was water. At least, she hoped that was all that it was. With a silent sigh, she remained there, and turned her head, wondering what in the world she was supposed to do next.

Kiwi continued to feel about. The rough grooves gave slowly to smooth stone. A sharp edge. He felt along it as it began to rise.

Stairs. Not more stairs. Not blind, not in the dark-

Step after step, he crawled his way up them. But compared to the floors below, the climb was not very steep, and he was caught by shock as his fingers pressed onto open air ...

Best not to go that way. Not without wings. He jerked back and backed slowly down the steps again. He wondered as he went, if perhaps the throne had once sat there ...

Crawling around, she found the stairs again. Maybe she would find her way back to the chair instead...