Diclaimer: don't own tales of symphonia.
Ever since he could remember, Mithos has always been able to see the darkness. It isn't the kind of darkness that could hide bogeymen or monsters, or the faces of loved ones and warm embraces.
It's the kind that lives and breathes, that has teeth and claws and scuttling whispers that he can only half-understand.
At first, he only saw the darkness in dreams and silent moments between sleep and wakefulness where the world seemed to stand still.
Every time he would call for Martel, screaming out her name, while squeezing his eyes shut and plugging his ears. It never worked though, Mithos could still see the darkness, could hear it moving all around him; in reclusive shadows and past moonlit reveries.
Then Martel would come rushing to his side, and the darkness would disappear. It always vanished without a sound, as though this was the way things were meant to be.
During nights like those, when his sister whispered words of comfort and concern, and he told her about the darkness with watery eyes and grateful tears; Mithos knew his sister would always be able to protect him from the darkness.
Mithos always loved to play in the Ymir forest. He would watch in wonder as his face was reflected by a blue butterfly's wings, and point in excitement where a Ymir fruit had fallen to the ground.
Martel would bring her panpipes sometimes, and she would play beautiful songs that made his heart leap with joy. He would dance then, without a care in the world.
The butterflies would flit around his sister, drawn by the purity of her heart.
The woodland animals would edge closer to the two smiling siblings, drawn by the beauty of his sisters song that still lingered in the air, even when her mouth had long since left the last notes of her treasured instrument to hang in the air.
Today something was wrong in Heimdal.
The adults were talking of strange things Mithos couldn't comprehend. Words like "war" and "king" were entirely unfamiliar to him.
He did catch a few others though like "mana" and "tree". When he asked what the two elves arguing before him were talking about, Mithos only received cold glares that made even less sense…no one had ever looked at him with such disgust before.
Mithos decided if the village wanted to be strange today, he would let it.
So he turned his back on the two elves before him, and left to go find Martel.
His sister wasn't home, or in any of her usual places, like the bench besides the river. Or underneath the new windmill.
Asking around, Mithos learned that the elder himself had wanted to speak to her. This was strange, since he didn't like to be disturbed, and didn't talk to anyone outside the council unless it was important.
Mithos decided he had to go someplace where nothing ever changed, someplace as untouched by the outside world as he had thought Heimdal was.
Upon entering the forest, Mithos sighed contentedly.
Even without Martel, this place was as welcoming as always.
Then he noticed something, something that should not have been there, should never have existed.
Mithos knew it wasn't an elf, but he didn't know what it was either. It was clutching it's stomach where the blood trickled down its fingers and onto the wood below it, discoloring the water underneath.
Mithos could clearly see the trail the thing before him had left, drops of blood and dirt scattered along the wooden bridge before him. 'This means…it came from outside.' 'Is it dead?'
He creeps closer to the strange creature before him, clad in metal plates similar to the ones the guards of his home sometimes wore for special ceremonies, dusted off and polished. This armor was rusty and old though, something that had been marred with scratches and dirt.
Then the thing before him moved, and Mithos is frozen with fear.
Their eyes lock and Mithos knows what the thing before him is now. It is a human.
The elder had once talked about why the village was located in such a remote location, and the world outside the walls of Heimdal.
He had spoken of creatures called humans, who were sinful and greedy beings, always desiring more and more power. It was the speech he always gave to the youngest generation of elves.
Mithos would always remember the face that stared down at him when he asked if there were any other races besides the humans.
It was a look filled with the utmost pity and sorrow.
Now as he stared at the deathly pale face in front of him, Mithos could only see a vague sort of recognition, and then a glare so full of hate he stumbles back in terror.
The man before him speaks, voice straining with the effort of forming simple words.
"You…you're a half-elf. You scum! People like you don't belong in this world! You're an abomination…I-I'll kill you right n-n-now!! The mans last words are garbled by the blood seeping into his mouth.
Giving one last look at Mithos, head raised just enough to let the red liquid slide down the sides of his mouth in a crimson waterfall, he shudders in pain and finally keels over into deaths sweet embrace.
His last words spent insulting a boy who doesn't even know what a "half-elf" is.
Mithos isn't sure what he is either though, not anymore.
He only wanted to be with his sister (who never met with the elder, or looked to the horizon when she thought he wasn't watching with a sort of pain Mithos hated, but couldn't really understand.)
Mithos only wanted to hear his sisters sweet lullabies floating through the rafters of their home, (not the sound of blood dripping onto water, with only a dead human for company).
Mithos only wanted his world back. "A world just for my sister and me".
He finally tears his eyes from the dead creature before him, the moment is broken and time is restored…he does not often witness death so closely.
Turning, he takes a step back home. His feet shake a little, but Mithos knows he can manage.
Then he hears it, and everything stops again, Mithos can't move, he can't even breathe.
It's the darkness. The not-words that creep and slide through his mind, overlapping the voice in his head that's screaming for him to run, to move, to be any place but here.
Then he turns towards the body behind him, as if in a trance…a world where there is nothing but silence, emptiness, and Mithos is more scared than he's ever been in his life.
More terrified than when a human said they would kill him, more terrified than when he realized his world was falling apart.
Because the darkness Is here. Because its real, and Mithos knows he isn't dreaming.
Its all around the dead man, crawling under the skin and pouring into the mouth, eyes, nose, ears. Like dark water lapping at the shore, until the mans heart has begun beating again, but only a burning oily darkness flows through his veins.
Mithos can only watch in fear (why aren't you running?) and a dark fascination as the figure before him rises, like a puppet in the hands of a small child, the movements jerky and contorted.
The things lips smack twice, and then a loud gurgling sound, like a baby trying to mimic their parents words.
The darkness is still seeping through the thing before him, flowing in and out of pores, forming clouds that disappear and reappear in an instant. Silhouetted by a night sky in broad daylight.
Remember.
(All around him, there is only darkness, there is no depth, no solidity to it….It simply is.)
(Its moving though, breathing…and he can hear it. He can feel it.)
And like this, in this cold, dark, empty world….Mithos wonders if there ever really was light. If the world he thinks must be just on the other side of this dark chasm…ever really existed.
What you are.
Because everything is so dark, and Mithos is so cold. So confused. So alone.
The darkness is speaking, he can understand the words now, even if he still doesn't understand exactly what they mean.
Still, like this, Its words mean nothing…because everything is just so empty.
Everything is nothing.
The darkness vanishes and Mithos knows why. It leaves abruptly, like something painful being cut out of him. He can hear footsteps, he can see daylight and trees, can feel warm tears sliding down his cheeks. Scrambling to his feet Mithos runs towards the person approaching, burying his face and fears in her warmth, her light. "Martel…"
Mithos can feel his sister embrace him, comforting hands holding him still, even if her fingers shake just a little, or if there are gently falling tears on his shoulder that he knows aren't his own. "We aren't going to be living here anymore, are we, sis?" The fingers clench just a fraction, her eyes widen just a little, but Martel has always been there for him, has always been strong for him. "Yes Mithos, We'll find a new home."
End Prologue
liked it? this was going to be a oneshot, but I changed my mind.