Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was warm inside the hallway. Not warm to his shadowy body, but to his core. It bid him remember the pleasant things, and the sense of nostalgia filled him with the sense that there were a great number of pleasant things to remember. Many, a whole lifetime even, beyond the antics of chasing fragments and learning to run and jump with his shadow companion. He ignored the click of the door behind him, someone was waiting for him.

It was calm and peaceful, like a safe place, a welcoming place, and the little one wagged his tail as he wandered amidst the pumpkins, round little things with grinning faces, he could almost imagine them with little ears, wagging tails, yipping little orange shadow creatures that smiled just to see him come home.

Resisting the urge to pat the little pumpkins on the head, the child wandered to the center of the clearing. There was a tombstone here. On it were elegantly shaped letters, glowing warmly with an orange light, but the name was unfamiliar to the little shadow. He could hear the thump thumping of the heart below, the heart the goddess had asked him to retrieve.

The discomfort brought by the goddesses words was forgotten in this quiet, welcoming place, and there was no fear in him as he began to push the soil away. Digging deeper, he unearthed the heart with the wag of his tail. There!

As he reached towards the heart he remembered. The name, Viscount Aaric Whitelocke, he knew that name after all. It appeared unbidden in his mind like an old memory, the gentle, stately face of a pale man.

Pulling the heart out, the memories surfaced, playing in his head like a film, like a story about someone else. Yet he knew, that soft, fluffy creature trapped in that dark basement was himself, and the fear that seized it was his own as the gentle, pale man approached. The words of the man calmed him, soothed his terrified mind, and the little shadow knew deep inside himself, that this man had saved the small, fluffy creature, and taken it out of a dark place. This man had saved HIM.

He put the heart, now still, into his bag and turned back.

The little shadow choked, struggling against the painful grip of the ghast. There was such hate in his eyes, the weight of it dragging the child down. He was torn. He had to give the heart to the goddess. He HAD to.

Clutching the soaked bag against his chest, the little one struggled harder. He was being pushed down, deeper into the water. He could feel it inside him, cold and vile, sapping his strength, and he knew without knowing that this was the end. This spectre would be his end...

He flailed, lashing out with the only weapon he had as he panicked. The scissors. As they sank deep into the ghast's body, the cold hands let go, and he struggled, floundered back onto solid land.

Coughing and spluttering, he realized he was at the doorway to the shrine. There was no water, it was as dry as when he had entered the strange area... Looking around in confusion, that was when he saw the man, half hidden in shadows. The shine of scissors glinted in one hand.

The child felt fear and pain well up inside him, and he ran for the exit.

Bolting down the hallway, the little child was too terrified to think properly. He slammed into the door at the end, tried the latch, beat at it, pulled on the handle, but the door would not budge.

Glancing around himself, the first thing he noticed was a slip of paper, it's red-stained edge resting stark against the white floor. What did... WHAT DID THAT EVEN MEAN.

(Distance: 35/40)

The little one made a terrified noise and hammered on the door again, and behind him the steps continued... And that voice became clearer as it got closer, he could hear snippets of sentences, accusations and taunts, and yet he didn't understand any of it.

"... Just ran aw-..."

"... Burned alive, your own b-..."

He put the whole of his weight into banging on the door again, but it was solid, and refused to budge.

(Distance: 25/40)

The little one glanced back frantically, at the figure approaching with the scissors held tightly in one hand, at the bloody paper on the floor, at the door, and then back at-

That's when he saw it, another piece of paper lying disguised upside down on the floor to his left. He snatched it off the ground frantically, and suddenly the key became clear. Punching in the sequence determined by the two pieces of paper, he threw open the door and ran as fast as his feet could take him.

(Distance: 15/40, onto the bridge)

His hobbling regained strength as the limb slowly wisped back into existence, but the memory of pain and the fear of being caught drove him onwards as fast as he could run. He had no plan, no route, he just ran and ran, until he reached a dead end, with a large house... He could keep running forever... Maybe find somewhere to hide...

But he knew he couldn't. It was time.

He turned and lunged, the dagger shining bright red in the misty gloom, and in a split second he saw the creature in a new light... Somehow, instead of the dark, tormenting figure, it was a kind man. He had kind hands, and gentle words. Once this child who was himself had suffered a broken heart, but even when he had no will left this man had cared for him. He had been broken, but even then he had books to read, and a warm, dry place to sleep, and that constant, deeply caring presence to fall back on.

He saw all of this, and then the dagger was deep in the spectre's chest. The scissors fell from it's hand, and it crumpled to the ground and began to dissolve into the air. The child watched until there was nothing left.

He had killed that man...

The little one sat on the grey ground and cried. He tucked his knees up to his chest and sobbed, letting go of all the panic and fear that had been held tight in his chest. His little voice was the only sound in the still world, and he cried until he had nothing left inside but little hiccups.

And then once even those subsided, he rubbed at his face with a shadowy arm, picked up the bright red dagger, and walked into the haunted house.

He was suddenly struck by the knowledge he held a little life in his hands.

The wisp of foxfire was light, creamy in colour. It rested softly in his palms, held out in front of him, tensely, almost nervously. The edges of the wisp fluttered silently, flickering like the flame of a candle, rustling like fur on a light breeze. It was the most precious thing. The most fragile and delicate...

"It is a great responsibility, child. This little life will depend on you for everything, do you understand?"

He nodded almost too quickly. It would… depend on him? It was a little scary knowing this creature would be his. And it's care was up to him, it's training, it's feeding, everything. It would need to be with him almost always at first, it would sleep in his room, and they would take meals together, and it would need to be trained! It would need to be taught all the things it needed to become a 'respectable citizen', as his caretaker had once said. Every last thing, it would depend on him. This fragile, delicate thing would need him...

He was so unprepared…

And then, the little wisp opened it's eyes. Big, round, dark eyes. They stared into the child with helpless vulnerability, and with utter trust. It yawned. It wiggled, and the child was forced to hold onto the wisp-turned-puppy with a firmer grasp so it didn't get dropped on it's head. It made a high pitched yipping bark. A yap yap yap put me down let's play sound.

And so the child did. And as the little foxfire waddled on stubby little legs and bounced around with all the enthusiastic clumsiness of puppyhood, he felt his spirits lift. He felt love and excitement, an eagerness to share everything with this awkward pile of poof. He wanted to experience it all in an instant, and it was as though his heart would burst with anticipation to do everything. He wanted to watch it play, and watch it sleep, and watch it eat, and watch it bounce around, and he had never felt anything quite so… rich and full in his small, sad life.

The little foxfire became his everything, for a time, but even when his world grew larger it was there beside him. And all it took was a smile, and the child would once again remember that feeling of hopeful joy.



1. Rune
2. Arldhan
3. Ortam