Where No Star Shines
The stench of raw, wet meat rose through the earth and into the humid summer air.
It had been coming out of the sewers for weeks. At first, the smell was weak, only vapors. If someone walked past a drain, they would catch a momentary whiff of it. As the summer sun came, the scent began to flood the slums of Meltokio. Even that went ignored. Now, it was overpowering businesses. Even the reek of sweat and blood from the coliseum was fresh compared to the wave of impure air. When men with money began to complain, there was no more excuse for overlooking the stench.
The task of finding the source was given to two maintenance workers. Neither of them was overly experienced with sewer maintenance, but they were good at general mechanical work. With summer festivals gearing up and bosses drunk on ale, it was fortunate that anyone was available to help. For two young men with little gald and limited access to alcohol, they had no choice but to investigate the rotting sewers.
Night passed before the two men descended into the Meltokio sewers. They scurried from entrance to entrance, checking every source. No clots in the drains. No stalls in the trash compactors. Even the mice that ran alongside their feet were clean, healthy. Nothing seemed amiss.
"I don't get it," the first mechanic grumbled. He stood up, dusting his hand. "It's not the north compactor."
The second mechanic tossed a set of monkey wrenches into a tin box. "It's got to be the north one. It's been on the fritz all week."
The former wiped some grease off on his overalls. "Well, the southern one's not a carton of peaches, either. Let's keep going."
"Man," the latter sighed. He grabbed the red toolbox and followed his coworker to the next room. With a low grumble, he groaned, "I was hoping to have tonight off, too."
The first mechanic laughed, "Going to spy on the princess's birthday party, were ya?"
His coworker was livid. "I was not!" He paused, then shook his head. "Okay, maybe. Whatever." Crossing his arms, he deflected the accusation to the first mechanic. "You can't tell me that it wouldn't fascinate you."
"I've got better things to do than to be watching some spoiled powder-puff," the first smirked. He stole the toolbox from his coworker and pulled out another bunch of tools. He flipped a switch, and the compactor ground to a hault. Prying off its cover, he grunted. "I'm still training for the next cup, ya know."
Something clattered, but it wasn't the tossed cover.
Both mechanics shot a look behind them. There was nothing there. The second mechanic rolled his eyes and took a look over the side of the elevated platform. Some rats were out in the storm drains, but it was nothing surprising. He went back to the trash compactor, peeling back the right panel. All the gears were oiled and clear of debris. It smelt like petroleum—clean, in comparison to the stench in the streets.
The latter mechanic shook his head, then teased his coworker. "Still want to fight that ninja gal, huh?"
"Hey! Ya'd want to fight her too, if ya saw how she moved," the first hopped to his feet. He waggled his wrench, tracing a buxom shape in the air. "Just beautiful. Powerful."
"Something tells me that you're not as concerned about the second part." The second mocked his coworker. He drew his hands to his face, then spoke in a falsetto. "Oh, you stud! You've defeated me and my feminine wiles! Take me now—in front of the crowd!"
That went a step too far for the first mechanic. "Hey, now, that's just too—"
His sentence was cut off by a low, droning roar.
Both men stopped bickering. Eyes were watching them. There were several pairs, all shades of orange and red. The stench was getting worse. The second mechanic buried his nose into his shirt, trying to smell anything other than that sick scent. The first grabbed a hammer from the toolbox, watching how the eyes danced around them. He could almost see glimmering stones in between the eyes, a thick layer of grime connecting the skeletal forms into one gruesome heap. His heart raced—the entire mass was ebbing, flowing, gnashing against itself.
"Get back!" the defensive mechanic roared.
The eyes bore down on the mechanics and devoured them.
/***/
For more fortunate men, it was a romantic evening.
The air was humid and warm, which did little to help coiffed and curled hair. The night air reeked like processed meat. It was a clear night, though. The stars were gorgeous, all bashful and twinkling. As far as summer nights went, this was a tame one.
A man lounging on the patio soaked it in, for better and worse. His face was as red as his hair. The man had a strange urge to run out to the fields outside Meltokio and just lay on the grass. Maybe catch fireflies. He wondered if the feeling was nostalgia or the alcohol running through his bloodstream. He found his stupid grin creeping its way across his face once more. A part of him would always be bound to high society—crisp suits, polished buttons, clean shoes. Another part was wild and free, roaming the grasslands and beaches, a sword in his right hand and a shield in his left.
The dumb smile would always be there, too.
"Well, well. I never have seen you outside of a party before it is finished, Mister Wilder."
Zelos nearly jumped out of his skin. Princess Hilda had snuck up on him. Hard to do, considering the doors, her clicking shoes, and the half-a-dozen petticoats she had to be wearing. He snickered, but turned back to the night sky, "Well, it's a very nice party, Your Highness. I'm just…you know."
The princess laughed. "Bored?"
Zelos didn't give her an answer. He looked back at her, leaning against the balcony outside of the ballroom. He waved his left hand, "It's very hot in there. I don't know how you stand being in that dress." Half a second later, he corrected himself, "Not that I'm encouraging you to do anything with it. How old are you, again?"
"Seventeen," Hilda smiled. She pulled a fan out of the ribbon around her bodice.
"Good age. Don't have to worry about responsibilities. Just get another year to play around." The rambling swordsman caught himself, then tried to change the subject. "By the way—stay away from the table in the corner. I think you're a little young for that stuff." He smacked his head and turned back to the stars. He'd talked about the princess's clothing, age, and drinking habits all in one minute. He was going to end up in jail by the end of the night. He just knew it.
Hilda moved over towards the balcony. She tried to find what Zelos was looking for, but she lost interest. She never really had the head for constellations and stars. They were okay to look at, but she didn't have the same mysterious drive that others had for the sky. She smiled to herself, studying Zelos for half a moment. For someone with a wild reputation—it was part of his surname, after all—he was stodgy tonight. He'd gotten worse after his trip to save the world. Sure, he'd still flirt with half a city if given the chance, but he was missing his old enthusiasm.
"I suppose none of my buds showed up," Zelos sighed.
Hilda shook her head. He always had his traveling companions on his mind. "No. No replies." Not that they had been invited, really. They were a rough lot, assuming any of them could be found. The princess could only tolerate one or two of them together at most. Even the most refined of them would talk hours on end about the brutality of their battles, business strategies, and cooking recipes. Such topics were hardly a thing to talk about at a birthday party for a young noble woman.
Zelos scrunched up his face. "Ah, well. They're probably out doing charity work, anyway."
"Mmm hmm," Hilda nodded. She wasn't paying too much attention to what he was saying. She lifted one eyebrow, checking the doors behind her. The drapes across the glass doors were drawn shut. This was her chance.
The devious princess giggled. "You know, I loved my birthday present from you."
Zelos looked at her. "I didn't think you'd even op—"
He found himself unable to finish his sentence. The princess was on his toes and in his mouth. She grabbed the lining of his jacket for balance. He staggered, the balcony supporting most of his weight. She bit into his lip ever so slightly. Wrong signals flared through the redhead's mind. His arms and legs felt like putty. Finding just enough strength, he pushed the princess aside and moved away from her.
"It's been a lovely evening, Your Highness," Zelos lowered his voice. He bowed and headed back to the ballroom. "I think it's getting too late for me. Need to get my beauty sleep, you know."
Hilda flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Zelos, wait."
"Good night," the redhead gave her a slight smile, but turned away from her. He wanted to be frustrated, but he couldn't feel too bad. The girl was young. It was just some goofy crush. Given a couple of years, she should get over it. He just had to figure out a way to duck the king for a while. He could see His Royal Highness, happily talking away with some archduke. Heaven help him if his majesty should happen to get wind of what happened.
"Zelos!"
The redhead shook his head. The girl was either persistent or stupid. He went back to the balcony, preparing to give her another gentle warning. Instead, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He saw petticoats go over the side of the railing. His heart twisted. What had she done?
He bolted outside and glanced down. He expected to see a horrific sight at his feet, but not what he found. Where there should have been a crumpled princess on cobblestone, there was a dark, surging pool. Glowing orbs glared at him beneath its gelatinous skin. Sticking from the ooze's skin were tufts of hair, shattered bones, tattered lace.
Zelos reeled back. "What the hell?"
A gush of wobbling mass threw itself up at him. He hopped backwards, avoiding the creature's splash. It hissed against the floor of the balcony, steam radiating off its body. He reached for where his sword usually dangled, an old habit for a phantom blade. He should have known better than to leave it at home! The worst events always happened at parties.
The gooey mess surged at him again. He ran into the ballroom, slamming the glass doors shut behind him. It was little protection against the creature. The mass smashed its way inside, splintering the door frame and shattering ornate doors. Party guests screamed in panic as it oozed over the grand staircase, pooling in the center of the ballroom. It landed on top of one unfortunate noble, smothering him inside its massive folds.
"Get out! Get out now, dammit!" Zelos yelled. Terrified people rushed past him as he searched for a weapon. He gave up, yanking a decorative sword off the wall. He might as well have been fighting off a whale with a toothpick. Still, it was something. Being the brave hero he was, he was prepared to engage the creature while others fled.
A hand pulled Zelos back from the monster. He didn't acknowledge the man's presence, but his stomach sank when he heard the man plead, "What is going on? Where my daughter?"
"Your Highness, I'm sorry," Zelos growled. "Get moving!"
"Wilder, tell me now! Where is she?" the king hissed in his ear.
The redhead shouted at the king, "I don't know! I'm sorry! Now, get the hell out!"
He expected the argument to spiral out of control. The king had more restraint than Zelos thought. He could hear the king breathe through his teeth, but the sound became quieter. The king waved to his guards, and the entire pack vanished. He could hear commands coming from the distance for the knights to split up and find the princess, but he quickly lost track of them. There were more important things to deal with.
Zelos taunted the blob, "Hey! Hey, you big, gross, weird looking flan thing!" He flipped backwards, sticking the monster in one of its eyes. It popped like a volcanic pimple. He pulled back from the beast, smiling as it took after him. Now, he'd just have to do that a few thousand more times. Or run away. No problem!
The redhead leapt out of the front doors, seconds ahead of being swallowed alive. He bounced through the city, landing in a back street behind the aristocratic district. It was not the best place to engage in a battle with a giant slime bubble, but he wasn't picky. Raising out a hand, he smirked and shot off a spell, "Burn, baby! Eruption!" The cobblestone street went alit with lava, sending tremendous heat throughout the gelatinous creature. It roared at him, internal skeletons shrieking at him. He was always good at pissing things off.
The blob rumbled, "Pu-Re-Se-Aaa!"
"What?!" Zelos gasped.
The creature never clarified. A wide tendril shot forward from its body and whipped Zelos. The redhead crashed into a wall, his head taking most of the blow. He pressed a hand to it and felt warm blood trickle down. His vision blurred, not at all assisted by the alcohol in his system. He gritted his teeth as his head felt heavier. The redhead collapsed on the ground, his mind exploding with pain. His ears were ringing, a grainy sound little better than white noise.
His opponent rolled towards him, anticipating a finishing blow. Boney claws punctured the surface of the beast. They reached out for him, preparing to rake into him. Zelos gulped, still struggling to get off the ground. His efforts were useless—his concussion was overtaking him.
His eyes lost focus, his lungs capable of no more than a wheeze.
Screams came up from the avenue. The monster met them with another roar. It rolled past the collapsed knight, body leaving a trail of slime as it rushed after the larger meal. Zelos reached for it, waving his sword with all the ferocity of a tired child. Spells couldn't form in his head. Clumps of earth and fire petered out at his fingertips. He sat back, his sword crashing to the cobblestone streets.
The horrible thought of being consumed by that thing rang through his brain as he passed out.
/***/
Zelos didn't realize his feet were under him until he was halfway to the castle. His head was lulled to his right, hair resting on smooth metal. The king's guards, no doubt. If fear could have powered him, he would have been out of their hold in seconds. As he was, he was little more than a rag doll being pulled along.
There were very few guards remaining now. Besides the four that had collected Zelos, he only saw eight more in the castle's entryway. Where were they? The redhead turned his sight away from them. An overwhelming sense of dread took him over. He stumbled, but the guards had a good grasp on him. They pulled him back up and dragged him up stairs, past the throne room, the kitchen, and the library. They brought him to the most intimate section of the castle—straight to the bedroom of the King of Tethe'alla himself.
Zelos shivered. He was in no condition to speak.
One knight knocked at the door, earning a response, "Yes?"
"We found Wilder, sir. You wished to see him?" The knight asked.
Zelos winced as a familiar voice bid them, "Let him enter."
The knights flanking him let the redhead go. He regained his composure, but his stomach was reeling. Fighting every instinct to jump off the balcony and run, he pushed the bedroom door open. The king was sitting on his bed, eyes red and puffy. He looked decades older than he should, face scarred by the poisoning attempt on his life. Even in this sorry state, Zelos panicked. Not knowing what to do, he knelt. If he could keep his eyes on the ground, he wouldn't have to look at the king. He could hide what he felt.
The bedspread ruffled as the king stood up. There was a harsh moment of silence, and then the king spoke. "You know why I have summoned you, correct?"
"I can take a guess. Princess Hilda is still missing?" Zelos replied. He was surprised that his voice didn't hitch. Gathering up a little more courage, he said, "I'm sorry."
"I don't want your apologies, Chosen. They do not help," the king hissed at him. He remained quiet for some time, giving the Chosen enough time to let that sink in. The king clenched his teeth. "Stand. You aren't being executed."
Zelos complied, his voice soft. "Thanks."
The king snapped his fingers. Two knights entered, roughly grabbing Zelos by the shoulders. They pulled him off the floor, forcing the Chosen to look straight at the king. A flutter of terror crossed his heart. There were worse things than being killed. Maybe the king wanted to torture him. What would he do? Cut his tongue out? Gouge his eyes?
"What's the big deal?" Zelos asked.
The king narrowed his eyes, his voice a constant growl. "I am charging you with the task of finding her. Until then—you are not to leave this city."
Zelos gawked. "W-what?"
The king explained himself. "You are the hope of our county—our Chosen. I need you to do your duty. Fight, and stop this creature. If you leave this town before you do—if you abandon her—" He stopped, his voice choking up. Once he worked the knot lose, he glared through Zelos's eyes and into his brain. "I will have you killed."
"Gotcha," Zelos squeaked.
He had no doubts that the king could have it done, too. He was rich enough to hire any assassin, to make any army. Sure, Zelos could put up a good fight, but he was just one guy. All it would take was a dark night and a hired gun, and that would be it.
Zelos rubbed his sore head. "If it's not too much to ask—I could use some help."
"I will see that you get it." The king's face kept as still as marble. "Now, go."
Zelos had some assistance. The guards yanked the chosen backwards and shoved him out of the king's balcony. Within a few more seconds, he was out the front door of the palace. His escorts remained with him until he was at his front door. Not one to waste time, Zelos unlocked his front door and went inside. He waved the knights off with a half-assed smile, and then locked his house up again. He slumped against the door, his head pounding. The stairs to his bedroom seemed so far away. There was no way he was going to make it upstairs.
He collapsed on his chaise lounge.
/***/
Author's Note:
A long, long time ago…okay, six years ago, I tried writing this story. Life got busy. I lost patience, and then I discontinued the story. In 2014, ten years after I first played "Tales of Symphonia," I purchased the HD re-release. Then, I fell in love with it again.
For several years, now, I've been writing "Team Fortress 2" fanfiction. One rule that I have is that I finish all stories I start. That means I've been culling previous unfinished work. Not fair to have a story out there with no ending. I was in the process of cleaning up my "Tales of Symphonia" offerings when I found this story…and you know what? It's not half bad. So, I finished writing the whole damn story over again. I'm only posting now because I know I have a good ending written.
There are some plot changes and updates. Nothing too significant, but polishing all the same. I've tried to keep up with that energetic, hopeful person that wrote this story. More importantly, it has the conclusion that it deserved to have.
So, be sure to check back every couple of days!