Thunder continued to rupture the night sky, the boy's heart beat so quick it nearly matched the rate at which the rain fell. His clothes were drenched with mud and amber swamp water, they drooped down into the pool of filth by his feet. He couldn't control his shaking, his skin was chapped and drained of color. A bright flash of light shone through the planks of wood above him, and he stifled a scream of terror. Drawing his legs closer to his chest, he placed his head in between his legs, desperately gasping like a man who nearly drowned after being carried away by a riptide. His voice was hoarse, facial features sunken and hollow. Once his hair had been so bright and beautiful, but now it was matted and tangled, like the fur of a feral cat.
This was their home. A creaky wooden bridge, somewhere in the maze of slums and alleyways.
He'll be back soon, the boy thought. He sniffled then gagged as muddy water shot up his nose, no amount of coughing could clear away all the filth within him. His feet were numb, if he stepped on a rusty nail again he might not even feel a twinge of pain.
Finally, the boy's brother crawled under the rotten bridge. The two of them had both made food runs, they needed something to give them enough strength to survive the torrential storm that would rampage across Myrkr the entire night. The boy grabbed their itchy little blanket and made room for his brother, and they huddled close together. No matter how damp they were, merely the presence of their sibling was enough to warm them up a little.
"I didn't get much," the boy said with a shaky voice.
"Just a mushy apple and some brown lettuce."
"It's ok," the brother responded softly.
"I didn't find much either. A bit of soggy bread." They doled out portions, it was a pitiful meal even by their standards. This had been their life for nearly a year now. Two children, kept alive only by their bond to each other. The boy picked up the apple and took a bite, the skin was soft and nearly melted into slush in his hand. Forcing it down his throat was nigh impossible, his body physically rejected food so vile. He gagged and a bit of vomit pooled out of his mouth, before it was held shut by his brother.
"You have to finish it," he said softly.
"This is all we have."
Silence fell between them as they finished their dinner, and the storm only grew stronger. It felt as though the muddy water was reaching up to their ankles now. Every night was torturous. But this was as close to the end as it had ever felt. Pressed as close together as could be, the boy asked his brother a question that had been on his mind for some time.
"If I died, what would you do?"
Thunder answered him, and the brother remained quiet. The boy thought the question might have been lost in the storm, but after a few minutes of contemplation his brother gave a response.
"If you died, I think I would want to die too."
The boy's answer was the same. Together they rested their heads on a pillow of damp moss, arms wrapped around each other tighter than the strongest of knots. They were both smiling, for they had each other. Let the storms come. Let the rain pour down until the entire world was drowned by the most destructive of waves. So long as they were together, there wasn't a force in the galaxy that could stop them.
We're going to rattle the stars. Tonight might be difficult. But tomorrow will be a good day.
A few nights later, the boy's brother was taken from him. And the galaxy would pay the price for it.
Allies:
Nida Perl
Enemies:
Kyra Perl
Thirdas Heavenshield
The cosmos certainly had a beautifully sick sense of humor. Here was the place where Lark's family was ripped apart, try as he might he had not yet been able to bring them back together. And now, another family that tore itself apart reunited. But it seemed as though the reunion was not meant to be. Lark heard every word Nida spoke to him, but his wistful expression locked on something else. Another specter; a little boy covered in mud, as scrawny as a starved rat. The dreg looked at Lark with sympathy and understanding, no amount of hardship could ever crush the glimmer of hope in those eyes. The Prince started at the boy with malice that would make a god soil themselves, and the boy only smiled politely back. The ghosts wanted him to make a choice. But it was never that simple. With Lark, it rarely was.
Nida was right. He did have bigger battles he would need to fight. But he couldn't just leave her alone to fight her war by herself. She had been his side during some of the most mentally confusing moments of his life. He would not abandon her. Maybe he couldn't grasp his own broken mind, but piece by piece he was putting it back together. It would never be the same as what it once was. But now matter how dark his mind became, one thing remained true. He would always remain true to those he cared for.
Never thought I'd think that again, he thought as Kyra began to speak. This was his first encounter with Nida's family, who she spoke of with a mixture of reverence and betrayal. A part of Lark hated them. He couldn't fight that subtle feeling that they would steal her in the same way his brother and sister were stolen from him. He knew not the exact details, but he sensed Nida's hurt. But after coming face with Kyra and Thirdas, he sensed the same pain he felt after losing his siblings. Unending turmoil, a desperate search for an answer that made sense. So he could not help but feel a twinge of sorrow for those poor fools.
It's time, Lark. Stop running from it. Do it for her.
He closed his eyes, and The Prince and The Boy walked into him. Equal in strength, equal in passion. They and so many of his other personalities whirled around in his head, but none could overpower any of the others. The scholar who studied such infernal tomes offered a toast to the jester whose amusement came from the discomfort of others. The hunter whose passion was blood and violence shook hands with the acolyte who wished for the endless prosperity of The Sith Empire. Even The Prince and The Boy shared a mutual understanding, as the two children sat beside one another, filling in the pages of a coloring book.
And The Monster strolled right in, making himself right at home.
Lark opened his eyes, breathing out a cold mist. The frost was captivating, he couldn't tear his gaze away until the mist dissipated and vanished into nothingness, as all things would. He remembered hugging his brother as the swamp threatened to suffocate him, knowing that as long as they were together nothing could harm them. He remembered playing hide and seek with his sister, whose smile was a bright as the sun. Lark looked at the rapturous war being fought, at the flowers blowing gently in the wind. At Nida, whose fierce determination made him proud.
"It's all so beautiful," Lark said, feeling at peace with himself for the first time since he was a child.
But despite the beauty, there were two people he might never have the opportunity to bask in it with. And that haunted him.
With tears in his celestial corrupted eyes, he made a plea with Nida's family. He met her sister's hate-filled look with one full of compassion, he knew all to well the hell she was fighting through.
"I know how it feels to lose a sibling," he began, tears running down his face.
"My dear sister, and my brave older brother. Both taken from me here, on these haunted soils. Ripped from my arms like they were currency. I will never see them again and I'm reminded of that whenever I manage to fall asleep." He took a moment to sigh, his body convulsed trying to rein in the tears. Stepping forward, he stood right beside Nida. Lark knew that sometimes, simply showing one's presence and support could mean the world. He learned that from his brother.
"I've seen firsthand the strength your sister posses. So please, I beg of you, listen to her. My family... they're nothing now." Lark was breathing heavily, as though he were on the verge of a panic attack. This love, this desperate need for his family was overwhelming his true self. Just as some previous parts of himself didn't know how to understand cruelty, so too did some parts of him not understand sympathy.
"We couldn't afford a funeral, or a burial. We were- my brother and I... we were under a bridge."
Compose yourself, he thought.
Now is not the time for personal sorrow. Now is the time to show strength. He took a deep breath, and looked straight at Kyra Perl and Thirdas Heavenshield. He was aware that they distrusted him, hated him simply because of his Sith rank. So he kept his enchanted weapons, gifts from a master he used to love, sheathed. His hands were held tranquilly behind his back, for he knew Nida's offer of reunion would mean more than his own.
"Your sister is offering you something that is rarely given," Lark continued tenderly.
"Please don't throw it away."
Lark's eyes were shining gold, with the most delicate, alluring corruption imaginable. And yet every tear he shed was genuine.
Finally, he thought.
I'm home.
Lark
