The world had no feeling — neither hot nor cold. And nothing in between. No breath could be drawn in the place between the mists.
His vision was doubled. Then tripled. Sight beyond to see what was real. Twisted and shivering, it lay hidden under the guise of the literal.
Layers of worlds upon worlds. Dimensions that met only to condense and expand. Everything interconnected. Time was no boundary.
When Lucci moved, his weightless body left a trail of silver light. His fingertips drew streams in the air as he watched in mute curiosity. It was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. And it occurred to him that he could sit and watch it endlessly.
If it wasn’t for the eyes that watched him.
Eyes in the mist. Many, many eyes. Whenever he turned to look at them, the eyes vanished. Cowering. But should he look away again, they would return. Everytime.
Lucci wanted to tell them to leave. They could go make light streams from their own fingertips. These light streams belonged to him. But he didn’t seem to have the ability to speak aloud. Not like he used to in the other world.
~Other world.~
Yes. There had been another world. He had almost forgotten about it.
But it was a cruel world. A world where people treated him like a cast away. And there was fighting and war. There was the darkness of Chaos.
There was no reason to return to that other world. The place in the mist was far more welcoming. The light streams didn’t work in the other world, anyway.
Between the spread of his fingers, he notice something odd. It was walking towards him. Shaped like a person. Except it was strange and silvery. Glowing like the mist.
The Mistperson was looking over its shoulder as it walked as if it wasn’t sure where it was. Or where it was going. Or maybe it was afraid that something would be following it.
Lucci hoped not. There were already too many eyes in the mist as there was.
Finally, the Mistperson stopped to look at him. Then it fell to its knees, hands upraised. Like it was begging. Begging for something from him. The eyes were wide and pleading as they focused on Lucci’s face.
That’s when Lucci recognized the Mistperson. He had seen him in the other world. This was the winged soldier that the man named KoGuRai had killed.
~Aren’t you supposed to be dead?~
Lucci thought to ask. But then, maybe it would be rude to the Mistperson to ask that. Because it was obvious that he was dead. Which was also probably why the Mistperson was so afraid.
~You are the ghost. Shouldn’t I be afraid of you, instead?~
Then the realization came to him. Something funny had happened to Lucci when the Cyngan soldier was slain. He could remember the mists coming from everywhere, rushing forward as if to take the spirit of the dead.
To take it and then to bring it to Lucci.
He watched as the trails from his fingertips began to glow brighter. Maybe it was because the Mistperson was there. He didn’t know. But it was a curious thing. So Lucci reached his hand closer to the Mistperson just to see what would happen.
The Mistperson began to glow, too. But it wasn’t a happy glowing. It seemed afraid.
Images began to flicker in front of Lucci’s eyes. At first, he didn’t know exactly what it was he was seeing. But as the images continued, the Mistperson began to dissolve away, drawn into the light at Lucci’s fingertips.
~Memories.~
Lucci realized the images were memories. The memories of the Mistperson that were now, somehow, being given to him. Drawn away by the mists. Drawn away by the light. And becoming part of him, now. Written upon him like the marks of ink upon a blank page.
A life that he had never lived. A death that he did not die. And power. Growing power from the fading spirit of the Mistperson.
When Lucci drew his hand back, the Mistperson was gone. No more than a voice without people. An essence trapped within the silver mist that quietly hung around his shoulders. An essence and power that would serve him without question.
~Wait. That’s wrong to do. Isn’t it?~
Just as quickly as the thought came, it slipped away from his mind. Because from the mists, the shape of silver wings began to form. Wings, just for him. Wings that held silent promise.
No longer would he be called Lei’ Igro.
And maybe if he had wings like the Awakened, Master ZenToYa would finally like him.
A smile parted his lips. Maybe he could go back to the other world now. And everything would be alright, afterall.
Another shape appeared within the mists. Though it was walking towards him, it was not like the first shape. It wasn’t a Mistperson. In fact, the mists seem to part from it.
Dark wings gave the identity away before it came too close. It was the man called KoGuRai. And he was smiling, too. A crusty, black-toothed smile.
Lucci suddenly wished that he wasn’t there. There was something about the man called KoGuRai that he didn’t really like. Besides that, Master TsuYa didn’t seem to like him much either.
“How do you like it, Lord LuShi?” Somehow, the man called KoGuRai could speak in the place between the mists.
Lucci tilted his head in curiosity, spending a moment to consider how such a feat was done. He closed his eyes. He could feel the mists drawing near to him. When he opened his eyes again, he had discovered his voice.
“Like what?”
“Why… your power. Your birthright,” the man called KoGuRai motioned widely with one hand. “Your wings.”
“The wings are nice,” Lucci told him.
The oily smile crept over the man called KoGuRai’s face. It was a gloating smile. A victory smile. “I knew you would approve, Lord LuShi.”
Lucci nodded slowly, then brought a glowing fingertip up before his face. “But I’m still not coming with you.”
The slick smile faded instantly. And Lucci suddenly understood the satisfaction that Master TsuYa found in frustrating people who were particularly annoying to begin with.
“But… Lord LuShi… I…” came the astonished protest.
“In fact, I want you to leave,” Lucci found his voice growing in strength. A new realization had come to him. The realization that told him that there, within the mists, he had a lot of power.
The man called KoGuRai shrank back a step. As if he couldn’t help but to do what Lucci ordered.
“I want you to leave. Right NOW,” the glow around his fingers had begun to spread, illuminating both of his hands.
The mists started to churn, losing the shape of wings as they did. A thousand cold voices seemed to rise up at his back. The voices without people. A lifeless chorus echoed his words in a haunted chant.
-…right now… right now… right now… -
A gurgling hiss rose up from the man called KoGuRai. He threw one hand over his melted face, backing further and further away. Struggling as the silver tendrils swept towards him. Then he was lost from Lucci’s sight. Drown by the mists.
Lucci’s lips curved upwards. There was satisfaction in that.
Before he could consider the feeling much further, he heard a voice shout his name. He turned, with a start. He knew that voice.
“Lord Zemi?”
-…Lord Zemi… Lord Zemi… Lord Zemi…-
The voice called his name again. But it was fuzzy. Muted by the mists.
“Lord Zemi!?” Lucci began to turn around and around frantically. A feeling of suffocation. The mists that had been a source of power just a moment ago were now a source of separation. He couldn’t see Lord Zemi anywhere. “Lord Zemi, I’m here! Where are you?”
-…are you… are you… are you…-
Then there was silence. A silence so deep that he wondered if he would be trapped within the web of silver mist forever. It was true. The realization that he didn’t know his way back to the other world.
“Lord Zemi…” Lucci’s voice dropped to a whisper, hoping that the voices without people would not echo anymore, “Please don’t leave me…”
-…leave me… leave me… leave me…-
A hand shot out of the mists. A large hand that had the appearance of a claw at first. But the moment that it clamped down on Lucci’s shoulder, a white smoke rose from the hand. And it became just a hand, wrapped in familiar black cloth.
Lucci turned around quickly to find himself staring up into the face of Lord Zemi. Except, something was wrong. He could not see Lord Zemi the way he knew that Lord Zemi really looked. Instead, there seemed to be a fierce visage of a white dragon layered over top of the usual kindly features. Draconic eyes burned brilliant teal, fangs gleaming wickedly.
“Nooo..!” Lucci pulled away in genuine fear.
-…nooooooo!..-
“Lucci!” the voice was gritty and distorted. Bordering on a growl.
The boy continued to back away, shaking his head. “It’s all wrong…!”
-..all wrong… all wrong… all wrong…-
“Lucci-boy… what have you done?” despite the growly sound, there was deep concern within the words.
“I don’t know!” Lucci choked, for the first time wondering if maybe he had done something terribly wrong. “Lord Zemi… I’m scared!”
“I’m here, child. Let me help you, Lucci,” the voice was becoming more and more like the voice that he remembered.
The mists were drawing away, fading from his vision. The hand that reached for him was once again Lord Zemi’s hand. The image of the Dragon drifted away as the silver light parted. Very blurry, the other world began to appear, as if viewed through rippled water. Then he could see the concerned lines that traced across the familiar face of Lord Zemi.
The boy stumbled forward, reaching for the Dreigiau. As he fell into the waiting arms, his senses dulled. He could feel the warmth once more. The sound of his breath was loud in his ears. His heartbeat.
When his eyes closed, a deep, unknowing sleep swept the mist away.
Oh my… This update slipped right past me! And it was such a GOOD one, too!
This chapter… seriously cool, and two thumbs up. I didn’t expect Lucci’s power to manifest itself like that, so I was on my (broken) toes the whole time I was reading it. It’s sad to see how his innocence has lead him to do bad things, but at the same time, I was pleased to see his own nature still standing strong. Like this:
Quote:
“How do you like it, Lord LuShi?” Somehow, the man called KoGuRai could speak in the place between the mists.
Lucci tilted his head in curiosity, spending a moment to consider how such a feat was done. He closed his eyes. He could feel the mists drawing near to him. When he opened his eyes again, he had discovered his voice.
“Like what?”
“Why… your power. Your birthright,” the man called KoGuRai motioned widely with one hand. “Your wings.”
“The wings are nice,” Lucci told him.
The oily smile crept over the man called KoGuRai’s face. It was a gloating smile. A victory smile. “I knew you would approve, Lord LuShi.”
Lucci nodded slowly, then brought a glowing fingertip up before his face. “But I’m still not coming with you.”
The slick smile faded instantly. And Lucci suddenly understood the satisfaction that Master TsuYa found in frustrating people who were particularly annoying to begin with.
The ending with him looking for Zemi was especially powerful. The bond between them is something I love reading about– as my sketchy art may imply! At the same time, hearing Zemi ask “what have you done” just about broke my heart… because although Lucci may not have realized it, the reader knows where this path will lead him.
I just had one question… This phrase, “No more than a voice without people”, seemed a little off. I really want to change “people” to “an owner” or something else, but the singular/plural keeps throwing me.
Glad you like the update, KJ!
About this line — it’s like that on purpose. It’s the way that Lucci identifies what he feels. He calls the visions in the mist “Voices Without People”, not me. Later, he’ll simply call it Them or They. It’s a little awkward, but that’s just Lucci’s voice. Sorry!
I understand “voices without people”– it’s just “a voice” without “people” that gets me.
I gotcha. No one sent Lucci to grammar skool?
I’d let that excuse slide, except it was during third-person narration, not Lucci’s thoughts.
The thing is, the third-person narration is from Lucci’s point of view — not just what’s in his thoughts. Lucci is one character (TsuYa is another) that have their own distinct voices in a chapter… even in the narration bits.
I try to accomplish that with most of the characters, but I find that Lucci is one figment that easily makes his way into just about every inch of the writing. If you go back through chapters that are from his point of view, you’ll see a trend of writing that sounds like a younger voice… because the attempt is to write from a younger mindset. Proper English is thrown aside for the sake of voice in my writing, this line included.
No excuses. It’s done purposely. The figments have spoken. I’m not about to tell them what they cannot say.
Yes, I remember now that it was Joyce who used that one in “The Dead” I think. It works, and I quite like it. Reading it a little bit earlier I felt somewhat confused, but it works quite well.
Proofing:
“No more than a voice without people”… -A voice without people? What exactly is this? A voice without a source? A voice without a person? “Voices without people” show up later, but both are plural there.
“In fact, the mists seem(ed) to part from it.”