THE AUGUSTE
Where the stars paint the sky a contrasting bright, the darkness creeps over the land like spiders tiptoeing across their webs. One solid mass of black that is the night coats the world save for the tiny dots of white speckled about cheeringly yet so far away…
Where the tree branches crisscross, holding the hands of their neighbors, whistling together in the wind a forest tune passed along through the years, they rustle the cold off their trunks with a steady sway. The sky hugging their canopies with fleeting grazes…
Where the stone yard's feral growls scratch through the air, its hungry claws grasping for any life to squeeze, the slates stand looming over lone mourners, the corpses beneath them stiller than anything among the earth's possessions...
Who should sit beneath a large yet modest grave marker on his own but none other than little Allen Walker, orphaned again by his newly deceased father? Only mere moments had passed since he had been nothing special, just another one with love lost and tears shed. But the sad face had fallen, the grief ceasing with it, replaced now by curiosity that should have been suspicion and hope that should have been dread.
One fat, all-encompassing hand, large enough to fit Allen's own head in its palm, stretched invitingly to greet his, and Allen, being a polite, unassuming child, met it with his own.
The Earl of the Millennium grinned, the sale complete, the results merely pending. A fence of metal, a desperate cry, and the deal was done.
But whose name should he cry, whose name should appear, who should rise from the dead but none other than Mana? Mana. Mana.
Mana cried in disbelief, and then in anguish. MANA. Mana would hear none of him. The slice of a blade stung Allen's face. His hand padded the heavy trickling flow of red in shock. Mana was soon upon him, ready for the finishing blow. Allen prepared himself.
It wasn't enough. Engulfed in terrible light, Allen cried as, against his will, he was dragged to meet his father once more by his own arm.
MANA. MANA.
I love you.
I - CONTRACT
In the aftermath, Allen shuddered. The fingers of his left hand tingled still, as they never had before. He never would have imagined that the first sensation his disfigured arm would have would be that of killing his adoptive father. The first time he lost Mana, Allen had been distraught. The second time was worse.
The empty night was filled with his sobbing. Despair and horror swept over him like a flood. Not even in his greatest nightmares had he imagined such an evil. He grabbed at his terrible arm tightly, the might of his grasp burning the tips of his right hand's fingers. His weeping slowed gradually as the adrenaline left his system, and that was when the pain crept in and his last soft sobs became gasps of agony. Allen lay sprawled on the ground, crushing his murderous arm beneath his weight as his right hand covered his left eye in a helpless attempt to staunch the flow of blood. He squinted in the darkness to see the blood now covering his hand and the sight put him out of his wits as he gagged uncontrollably, even without having eaten for days.
He was not alone, a fact he had forgotten in his shock.
"My, my! How unexpected!" the earl chuckled to himself, watching the crying boy. "That ugly thing is Innocence?"
His smile never faltered as he strolled gaily across the cemetery to meet the child once again.
"Now, now. You shouldn't cry," the earl said, bending over Allen. "You got to see your father again! Isn't that nice?"
Allen sobbed harder. "I-I-I…"
The earl tilted his head to the side. "Hmm?"
"I…" Allen choked. "I k-killed him…"
Smile unwavering, the earl shook his head, tut-tutting.
"I'm a monster!" the boy cried, curling up into a ball.
"That won't do," the earl said, throwing his umbrella over his shoulder. "Big boys don't cry."
Allen sat up, scooting away from the other in shame. The earl caught him by the arm and caressed the hand covering Allen's injury.
"Let me see that." He pried the other's soaked fingers away to find no gash and no bleeding socket. Allen's eye was perfectly intact. The only evidence that remained was the long red scar gracing his left side leading to the new pentacle on his forehead.
The Millennium Earl's eyebrows rose slowly. "So that's how it is," he chortled. Allen winced as the Earl poked the upside-down star, his bloodied hand clenching the dirt beneath it inside his fist. The earl picked up Allen's left arm, turning it over and studying it. "Though this might be a problem…"
Allen yelped in surprise as a giant, gloved hand covered his face. A strange tearing sensation burned his cheek as the Earl slowly peeled the mark off.
A long, red something was dangling in front of him now. Allen blinked at it, not sure what to think. The earl shook it roughly, and a long scroll grew from the end of the something. It unrolled in midair, the paper scraping against itself noisily. As the earl tapped his chin thoughtfully, black words started to write themselves on the sheet out of no where.
"This little thing would be so much trouble for you," the earl said, waving the red thing around between them. "It's quite inconvenient to be cursed, I must say."
Allen stiffened. A curse? Mana had cursed him?
"No one wants a curse like this," the earl continued kindly. "You don't need it, so what say we make a deal?"
Gulping slowly, Allen looked over at the floating scroll uneasily. He couldn't make out any of the words in the night. "What kind of deal?" he rasped.
The earl's eyes shined through his spectacles with giddiness. He bent low again, imposingly.
"If you give me this curse, I will give you a new home."
Time seemed to stretch. Allen's breath hitched in his throat. He had no home to return to now. He hadn't even thought about what he was going to do without Mana. Yet Mana had taught him to live on his own, completely by himself. He didn't need a new home.
But did he want one?
The earl grasped the scroll tightly and held it under Allen's nose. It was a contract. A large X next to a long line at the very bottom stared at him expectantly. Allen bit his lip.
"I don't have a pen," he said at last, breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence.
The earl laughed, his eyes wandering over to Allen's right hand. Allen followed the gaze, too, and saw the small puddle of blood from his eye sit innocently beneath his fingers.
"You have all you need," the earl replied.
Allen's heart raced in his throat. The earl's eyes bore into the top of his head.
Slowly, a small hand dipped its finger in the puddle. It rose shakily and tapped the surface of the contract, carefully tracing a bright red A. Patiently, the earl held the document perfectly still as Allen dipped his finger many more times, signing his name.
A-l-l-e-n W-a-l-k-e-r
The scroll promptly rolled itself up, the earl grasping it menacingly. Allen's stomach dropped as his left hand fell through the ground. Looking down, he discovered a large black rift opening beneath him. He screamed and tried to jump to his feet, but his body lost all of its footing, and he plummeted down.
"Welcome home, Allen."
A pair of silvery eyes snapped open in a dimly lit bedroom. Allen sat up straight, his heart pounding mercilessly, sweat dripping down his face. What had happened?
He sprang to his feet, looking around the room dazedly. It was a very modest, clean room. There were no decorations anywhere, the walls were plain, and on the tiny nightstand beside him stood nothing save a small melting candle. The long room had two doors. Allen opened the one nearest him to discover a dark closet filled with unfamiliar clothes. He closed it quickly and ran to the other door to find that it, to his dismay, was locked. After trying the handle several more times, Allen retreated to the bed in defeat and dropped onto the mattress.
"Where am I?" he whispered in confusion, looking around again for any clues. The bare room betrayed no answers for him. Traces of fear began to well up inside him as his mind raced to work things out. Mana had died. He had been there for the funeral. And then…
Allen's eyes fell to his left hand. The red mess sat innocently in the sheets. Allen swallowed, unsure what had been a dream and what had not. Everything seemed too crazy to be true at this point. He closed his eyes and recalled the man who had visited him in his despair, his cheery air all too out of place in that graveyard.
A high-pitched giggle, muffled by the walls, found its way to his ears. Allen looked up at the door as the handle turned. There was a string of harmless curses and another much deeper voice saying something like, "Let me get that." The scraping of a key in a lock rustled around for a few seconds and then the door swung open to reveal two visitors.
The largest, most prominent figure Allen recognized right away. It was the smiling man from the cemetery. Their eyes locked immediately and Allen drew back in surprise. He was too distracted to notice the other visitor until she was already upon him.
"Hellooo!" the little girl squealed, jumping beside him on the bed. Her dark face was lit up in an amazingly wide smile. "Are you Allen?" she pried giddily.
Allen leaned away as her face came closer to his. Her smile stretched all the way to her eyes. He nodded hesitantly.
The girl squealed again and giggled uncontrollably, grabbing his wrists. "I'm Road Kamelot!" she proclaimed, flopping his arms about in the air. "We're going to have so much fun!"
The earl laughed as Road bounced up and down on the bed, shaking Allen around. "You'll help him get ready for dinner tonight, Road?"
"Of course!" she cried happily, squeezing Allen around his neck in a death lock. "Leave it to me!" She waved energetically as the earl chuckled and left the room.
Allen sputtered and clawed at her arms as his lungs demanded oxygen. Road snickered and loosened her grip, smiling as he coughed for air.
"Come on!" she yelled, jumping off the bed and running over to the dark closet. "You've got to get dressed now!" Without waiting for him, she skipped inside. As his choking lessened, Allen heard the clanking of hangers. He looked warily over at the closet when a white shirt covered his face unexpectedly. "Put that on!" Road's voice called happily.
Allen pulled the shirt off his head and looked at it. It was a white dress shirt that looked like it might fit him perfectly. Road appeared in the closet doorway with more clothes, still grinning.
"Slow!" she said, throwing the clothes on the bed and running over to pull Allen to his feet. "Come on! Aren't you hungry?"
Come to think of it, Allen was starving, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise as Road promptly pulled his shirt off and threw the other one around his shoulders, forcing his arms into the sleeves. Allen only got one button clasped when Road strung his neck up with a red tie and fixed his shirt up in five seconds flat, buttons and all.
Next were the pants. Road was grinning like an idiot.
Allen felt very awkward in his new attire, having never worn anything like it. The dinner jacket was heavy and studded with silver fastenings that Allen couldn't stop fingering. His shiny shoes clopped resoundingly as he walked down the hall with Road at his heel. He wiggled the fingers on both of his hands, feeling the white gloves hugging them that made his fingers slip whenever he grabbed at a button on his jacket. Road had been very disappointed when she couldn't find a hat that fit him well, and when she tried to tie his brown hair back instead, the tie fell to the floor. He didn't have enough hair for something like that.
"Why do I have to wear this?" Allen asked, fiddling with another button.
Road's grin had yet to fall. "For dinner! The whole family's coming!" she replied happily.
"Family? Who-?" Allen was cut off as he bumped into someone. There was an indignant grunt from above as Allen stumbled backwards.
"Hey!" a cracking voice yelled. "Watch where you're going! Heehee!"
A dark haired boy leaned over and glared at Allen. "Aren't you going to apologize, runt?" he growled. His blond companion, the one Allen had hit, leaned over as well.
Petrified, Allen stuttered, "S-S-S-S-Sor…"
"Devit!" Road pouted, pushing herself between the boys. "Stop acting like a baby!"
The dark-haired teen drew back, redirecting his glare at Road. "Who's the kid?" he asked, looking back and forth between the two. The blond bent over Devit's shoulder and laughed eerily again, crying, "Who? Who?"
"It's dinnertime, kids," a newcomer crooned, approaching the gaggle. It was a sleek man, finely dressed. He didn't stop as he walked passed them through the doors down the hall. Allen stared at him, not quite getting a good look. Road cried in delight, skipping after him down the hall. The two ruffians glared at the man in turn before stalking after him. Devit turned around as an afterthought and stuck his finger in Allen's chest.
"Don't think this is over!" he threatened, causing the blond to giggle again. Allen gulped as he was left alone in the hall, broken from his stupor by Road's call. He walked nervously to dinner.
The dining room was just as dark and eerie as everything Allen had seen of the place so far. The only light came from the numerous candles decorating the long table in the center of the room. Road was bouncing in her chair, trying to wave Allen over to sit next to her. Allen hesitantly obeyed, finding his place somewhere in the middle of the table.
In the ten awkward minutes after he sat down, Allen watched all of the other chairs filled by more men and women in nice clothing and surly expressions. The earl sat at the head of the table some three or four chairs down from Allen, but he felt like he sat the farthest away from the man. Not too far away from him sat the two guys from the hallway (were they supposed to be twins? Allen couldn't tell. They didn't look very similar) fencing with their butter knives. The man who had interrupted them in the hallway sat right across from Allen. He was watching the earl patiently. Allen caught his eye accidentally. The man's lips twitched into a small but confident smile, making Allen look down at his plate embarrassed. As the last person took his seat, the earl cleared his throat.
"My siblings," he began heartily. "We have a new brother this evening. Allen Walker." Road turned and smiled at Allen, who sunk back in his chair. "I hope you all will treat him like family."
Allen tried not to pay attention to anything else at this point. He didn't know who any of these people were (or at least those he did were really strange). During the course of the night, a few people introduced themselves to him. He wasn't able to match most of the faces and names by the end of dinner. He was too perplexed by how much more food than normal he suddenly found himself eating.
Where blood meets earth, life will grow. The red stirred in the brown, mixed by the squeeze of a fallen child's hand. Stirring and mixing itself, the glob of dirt and blood molded into a ball of bright gold. Wings sprouted from it, a white cross marking its body.
Cross Marian, investigating the graveyard, discovered Timcanpy that night, and upon receiving the will of Mana Walker, realized he was too late.
"Time for a change of plan," he muttered, tossing his spent cigarette on the ground and smothering it beneath his boot.