Chapter I
Through the looking glass, if you dared venture through it, only the guidance of a star could lead you to the very unusual land of magic and mystery known simply as Wonderland.
It was a place unlike the common world were the laws of science and nature were relative, moldable and changeable. Those who knew these laws well were able to effect their surrounding environments to their own will. They held the power in this world of unusual beauty.
This power could be harnessed in a number of ways but without the proper guidance, it could cost one one's soul.
They held power one could only dream of but, make no mistake about it, these people were not gods. They were mortals at the mercy of God's will just like any other.
Death had always and would always come to all; To the kings and commoners, to the heroes and villains.
None could escape the grave.
It was once upon a stormy night of a mid september that that fact had rung true in the grand metropolis called Wonderland and it was once upon this sorrowful time that two worlds collided and our story begins.
Gravitational tremors of this magnitude had not been seen in over a decade.
The sound of stray gravity and uncontrollable magnetic forces thrashing out wildly and randomly like wip was deafening. Acres of ground, trees and all, were torn from the ground in one foul swoop by forces unseen. Houses were uprooted and cast to the ground like broken pottery, the remains of the architecture and all that lay inside strewn across Wonderland. Iron debris as large as a man's fist damaged windows and destroyed carefully paved roads as the fraying magnetic forces attracted it to the sky.
A good six hours previous to this moment, a gathering of storm clouds dyed a mysterious shade of violet told Wonderland of the wretched storm that was to come and every citizen was ordered to remain in the safety of their homes through the night till the storm ended.
No one anticipated that the storm would do this much damage.
No one could have anticipated the power outage and no one could have known that the most feared villain in all of Wonderland would flee from his confinements with no one to stop him.
The average citizen of Wonderland might believe that the Great Earl had planned this natural disaster, being mere sheep in this game played by the monsters.
The more educated people in the grand echochamber that was the cities castle found their suspicions of a world that favored villains above the valiant confirmed by the news of the gravitational tremors that broke out all through the grand city and the wretched man who escaped from his prison in this moment of weakness.
The royal guardsmen, who were in the know of almost everything there was to know about the government and all it did in the shadows, did not have time to cave to such childish and superstitious beliefs. All the group knew was that the gravitational tremors tore up the power lines, causing a mass power outage throughout Wonderland and, under the veil of night, a murderer on death row known as the feared Great Earl walked straight through the front door of the imperial prison with no one to stop him.
But the opinion of the Great Earl himself was something not commonly asked for. It was understandable because no one wanted to know the twisted opinion of an infamous villain, a madman, a murderer.
They would never venture into the mind of such a perverted man once upon this wretched night.
Every living person, animal or plant could share their opinions on what the man wanted, what he thought or where he stood as of now but the only one who could truly convey the hidden motives and secret desires of the infamous villain was the infamous villain himself and yet he was the last person they would dare ask.
The Great Earl never quite understood this viewpoint because he, at the moment, was, had always been, and would always be for the foreseeable future, more than open to sharing his thoughts on the world.
The city of Wonderland was built from the ground up around one thousand years ago upon a peak of the highest mountain on the continent, no humble raise in the ground.
The infestation of humans grew far too rich for their own good upon their high place and took it upon themselves to build a castle for their ruler. A seventy nine year long building project was underwent to build upon the highest point in all of Wonderland the palace of Hearts, the pinnacle of the people's greatness, a fabulous show of their power and wealth.
And so goes the story of the grand buildings birth, or so the Earl had heard from several scattered and mildly unreliable sources.
Hugging the side of a limestone cliff as though it were testing nature's power, curving where it curved and falling away where it fell, stood one of the most impressive pieces of architecture the Earl had ever beheld.
Wide roads paved with gold plated bricks led to the building and all its pristine majesty.
Six pointed spires as black as the night clawed the heavens. Shorter towers occupied by a hundred rooms grew in a bouquet at the side of each spire like a large fungi growth upon a thick tree trunk.
In the middle, with three spires on each side, was a vast window of stained glass, the kind that put even the fields of mountain flowers to shame, gentle framed by the iron folds of a ribbed vault just above a set of three wide twin doors.
Sweeping the skies star adorned gown, the Earl might compare its its elegance and beauty to that of the late Queen of Hearts, though that may have been to high a compliment to even a woman such as her.
This, on its own was only the tip of the iceberg, the mere entrance to a beautiful behemoth of art that took up a space of approximately four acres in building space alone. That did not include the four royal gardens, the two ponds or the vast empty roads of gold that led up to it all.
The place that once welcomed the Earl but now cursed his very existence.
The laughable fact of it was that this building was not the true pride of this people, nor had it been their most famed accomplishment.
A smile tugged his lips, dyed red in his own blood.
Upon the pathway, stood barefoot a beautiful young man, no older than twenty-one.
His slender body once adorned with silk robes and the finest precious gems now shivered in the winds hidden chill, clothed in nothing but hideous prison rags turned a pitch black from continual use, age, dirt, blood and other unmentionable filths.
His once pure skin was filthy with blood and open wounds, his soft black hair now clinging to his forehead, neck and shoulders with sweat. He hadn't grown fingernails in a long while and a few of his teeth were gone. It hadn't mattered to him because he knew both would grow back eventually.
He had endured torture this past season like he had never experienced before and yet, never once had the light faded from hi golden brown eyes.
They still shimmered as healthy and surely as the moon unseen, never once did they fade.
The gleam in his eyes like gold in the shadows was the only recognizable trait the Great Earl still retained after so long a tribulation.
The castle stood in the path of the Great Earl, fierce and stunning like both a worthy opponent and a loving mother but he found himself drawn forward as though by the allure of a voluptuous prostitute.
The Great Earl did strut with confidence to its warm embrace, disappearing into the forest of clustered columns.
The storm that raged like the clash of two mighty armies overhead did nothing to quicken his pace or hasten his stride.
Though the one inflicting brutal wounds upon this strange and beautiful land was a cruel and mighty beast to the common folk, it served as a guardian knight, a protector to the Earl as he sought his shelter and escape in this place of splendor.
The storm hindered the Royal Guard in their hunt for him but never would they have guessed he might escape their clutches by returning to the royal palace of Hearts, the place where he had dirtied his hands in the blood of his first true murder.
It was through this place that he would be saved and that the was true beauty of the irony.
The rusted iron hinges of the twin doors moaned sorrowfully as though mourning what had been lost, a wordless curse upon his name and birth as he threw them open with ease.
What greeted him there was a shallow, seemingly endless abyss, an unearthly sort of darkness where neither breadth nor heartbeat should reside.
This castle of color, once so full of life and contentment now lay stagnant and silent as the grave those very occupants now sleep.
Distasteful though the memories of that night were, thoughts of sin and murder were consumed by this young man on a daily basis. The weight of taking the life of another hardly hindered him anymore, much less weighed him down and he entered into the palace with a light heart.
It was what the years had done to a boy like him. It was what a decade of the most deranged ecstasy had done to a once very innocent young boy.
With a snap of his fingers, a small spark became a flame at the tips. It did not burn him.
He remembered every detail. He remembered that there were candles placed in the doorway for as electricity was a reliable source of light but the power was gone and those candles were his only way of navigating this place while expending very little of his own energy.
The Earl reached out into the darkness till his fingers met with hardened wax. Once a single twinkling light had been brought to life upon its aged wick, he removed it from its place at the doorway as he contiNued into the darkness fEarlessly.
The young man ascended up many flights of wide stone steps, a side path he knew would lead him to the highest room in the tallest spire should he contiNue to the end, one hand holding the candle, the other stroking the smooth bronze of the railing.
The light illuminated a familiar door; Old wood with a brass handle. It was not locked as it never was for reasons he would never know. He felt a draft coming from the extravagant room just beyond this door but instead of carrying the perfume of wild mountain flowers, all he could smell was dust, blood and static.
The Earl wrinkled his nose in disgust and anger. The royal guard had yet to clean the palace after what had happened, which meant that the thrones successors had yet to be elected.
In other words, it meant that the monarchy of Wonderland still had yet to repent for all that they had done.
What a lot of ignorant children, he thought, they got what was coming to them.
But in that moment, though faint and distant, the infamous villain was unnerved by the sound of the doors at the bottom of the stairs whining as they closed.
His hand froze against the handle's aged wood as he listened; He listened, ears so sharp he could hear the heartbeat of a mouse but he heard nothing.
Yet he stilled. He would not ignore what he heard. If it were a Royal Guard who picked up on his trail and walked through those doors, he would have been dead already, they certainly wouldn't have closed the door after themselves.
He let the candle fall from his fingers and when it hit the ground, he stomped on the flame. It had served its purpose but it was useless beyond this point.
A sentimental maid or some kind of stray child was still in question. Whoever they were, they would not find him unless they were searching.
So, with the delicate touch of a mother, the Earl pulled the door from it's from and ran into the shadows through the crack. He left it open. If he was being followed, he would know soon enough.
Though the door was a tightly wound staircase composed of flimsy iron steps hanging on by a few old and rusty screws. He rushed up the tight and musty space, his hands instinctively reaching to the close stone walls for support.
This tall spire was abandoned long ago. Once it was used as a chimney to rid the castle of smoke during the harsh winters mountains would bring but when the new age of technology docked upon the horizon and the smoke fires brought was turned into energy, this lonely spire became nothing more than a decoration.
The outdated stairs moaned under his weight in a wordless and very petty insult as he ascended swiftly upwards. The Earl knew, despite this, that if he were a common person, these steps would surely have given way underNeath him and he would have fallen to his death in the shadowed castle depths.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins rapidly like he had overdosed on a drug, intoxicating his and putting on a show of lights upon his vision.
Many times he had narrowly escaped an untimely death, but he never forgot the pleasure that came with the thrill.
What others may loathe and fear, he now lived for; The excitement, the ecstasy, the racing heartbeat, everything.
But it was only around the tenth time he ran a full circle, around halfway up the spire and nearing escape, he instinctively paused in his step.
The crack in the door was small so closing it would be silent, but the Earl had heard it loud, clear like the bell at the stroke of twelve midnight.
He heard the rapid intakes of air and feet slapping against iron, the wind and steel whining in protest at the arrival of a sudden and inconsiderate intruder.
The young man had everything from his feet to his pretty little head planted firmly upon this earth; He knew when someone was chasing after him in addition to knowing exactly what to do if he found himself in such a situation. He had trained.
He jerked his body around in a fluid motion upon this slanted and unstable ground; Even then, the stairs did not give way under his delicate steps, lighter than an egret's feather.
His foot planted firmly upon the steps in front of him and his heel grinding against the wall, he lunged backwards and it came as no surprise when he caught someone.
He used the slanted ground to his advantage as he put all his weight upon the intruder and forced them to the ground with ease.
The swift motion set off a symphony of creaks and whines in the highs and lows of the architecture, its every nook and cranny shaken down to its foundation but soon after, the calm came after the storm and the tall tower returned to its natural calm, serene state.
They did not struggle. All had become quite still like the paused moment captured in a photograph.
The stranger fell to the ground completely willingly and even though a hood hid his face from view, the Earl could not sense any fear coming from this unknown person.
The wrists he held to the ground above the person's head to subdue him were cold and without a pulse like that of a corpse while the chest did not dare pull in a breath as he held them down.
This person was frighteningly still underNeath him and if he hadn't chased the Earl this far, he would have thought he had tackled some kind of doll to the ground.
But it was not a doll. Dolls do not move. That single thought echoed in his mind a thousand times over before he brought his fingers close and snapped, the sharp friction creating a single red flame in between his face and the face of the one that had followed him up these stairs.
The Earl felt the coldest of chills run down his spine, through his joints and over the expanse of his flesh. Despite the flame, the edges of his fingertips went numb from the cold. Despite the constant stream of blood that wet his throat, his throat went dry.
The Earl starred in beautiful horror and confusion into his own eyes and those same familiar and so foreign pair of golden brown eyes stared into his.
This doppelganger, this reflected image did not gaze at him in fear but in the most serene and kind recognition, the sort a man like the Great Earl did nothing to deserve.
Long black locks of clean and freshly washed black hair fell out of his silk white hood like rivers of ink, sharply contrasting his healthy, soft skin and in the Earl's current state, perhaps there was no similarity but he remembered clearly like a gentle spring breeze trapped in his mind.
For a moment, alien emotions stirred in his chest, the cogs and coils of his perfect system throne here and there by the gentle breeze, caught completely off guard by this sudden barrage of attacks.
A name. A simple name lay on the tip of his tongue of his tongue with a strange flavor but he did not let it fall.
He regained control, the brief moment of confusion had passed. His cogs and springs were put back in their natural place, the front of stillness replaced and twice as strong as the days before.
The trick, the illusion, the alteration was something the Earl had seen before; Almost too real, almost surreal clarity burnt into his vision and yet it could never be all it wished to be to someone like him because it was simply impossible.
He remembered the words spoken upon that day long ago. It was like a dream, no different from the complex structure in front of him but one contradicted the other and the fault in the latter exposed. The unstable architecture collapsed just as soon as it had been completed and it was gone, soon to be forgotten in time.
A homunculus was all the creature in front of him was. A creation of the Bandersnatch, Tykki. Though lifelike and almost undeniably real, it was a mere mold inspired by real people; It was neither alive nor real.
It was a homunculus that reflected the Earl's image, probably created for the sure purpose of staggering him this way, to hold him here and catch sight of him so that the Bandersnatch knew exactly where he was.
The Great Earl grimace in disgust as he rose from the body he had pinned to the stairs, loathing whatever it was that made him fulfill this illusions mission.
As he rose, he felt himself overcome with an unusual uNuese. He had lost focus and it showed in how the stairs wobbled and whined underNeath him.
This homunculus had seen him which meant that Tykki knew exactly where he was. That was nothing to panic about but it meant the young man needed to quicken his pace to the top of the spire.
He stood straight up in the darkness and brushed the filth off his attire, not that it would help.
The creature had yet to so much as budge. With its purpose fulfilled, it probably saw no further need for locomotion but it gave the Great Earl a chill like that of winter, feeling as though he were in this dire situation in the presence of a corpse.
He wanted to shake the feeling off but it had become a part of him, like a vein. Even though he knew he probably should, as the infamous Great Earl and all that protecting his precious image entailed, he did not want to kill the homunculus nor did he see much of a need for it.
It had already won, its purpose fulfilled. If it had not seen him and he killed it from a distance than the murder would be justified but now, killing it would be done purely out of aggression.
Perhaps it was the effect of being so long in such a wretched prison but the mere thought of bloodshed made him feel sick to his stomach.
He did not feel the slightest change on his exterior or in the many layers underNeath but in his very core, he was shaken. Something was about to change but he just didn't see it.
"Run," He hissed through clenched bloodied, not sure if the creature could hear him but he didn't care, "Run, little homunculus. Leave this place and return to your master."
It was his final word and what he assumed to be a proper goodbye to the creature that stirred up such odd emotions inside him before he dashed up the stairs to escape this place.
He ran with a new energy, a less pleasant more claustrophobic sensation. The drug lost its effect and his mind was left bare to withdrawals and distractions.
In the blur of the moment, he arrived at the top floor.
The staircase ended abruptly.
The last step was shorter than everyone before it, bringing him suddenly to a small circular room; A plain concrete floor coated by a thick and oily layer of dust and mold, smooth walls adorned with hand painted images of heroic battles and mysterious creatures depicted throughout history, a white ceiling robed in heavy and intricate cobwebs carefully designed throughout the years.
He brought himself to the very center and whipped his head around wildly for a moment. In the front of the small room, the side that faced the city, his searching gaze immediately caught sight of a large circular window baring neither fame nor drape and only visible in the darkness because of the momentary flashes of bronze lightning the Earl saw just beyond its scope.
A sigh of relief involuntarily escaped his dry lips.
Cold drafts rustled his rags and chilled his flesh pleasantly. He took steps towards the round window, each flash of lightning, each vein of light splitting the sky and silhouetting the young man's form for a mere millisecond in time.
So close. He reached his hand out as he approached the outside. He felt the unstable gravity nipping against the tips of his fingers like frost. Slight electric shocks in a humid haze surrounded him.
Soon enough, he was close enough to reach his whole forearm out through the window, fingers delicately curved and stroking a nonexistent form softly.
In the day, this view of the grand metropolis would have been spectacular. The city was beautiful beyond words and the design and splendor alone was bathed in love for life and energy.
They were truly the strongest of them all, the goliath of the continent with no young shepherd to match their strengths. All this and yet a mere power outage was enough to snuff them out this way like the way a candle is blown out at the slightest wind. Perhaps this joyous day to remember was a testimony not only to their strengths but to the follies and vanities the nation had grown so fond of, a beautiful nation like a naive shop girl in the prime of life.
Now, the Earl looked down upon a sea of empty darkness and perhaps that's what the city of Wonderland always was.
So quiet, should anyone have been around to hear it, they would have thought they had imagined it, with his hand upon an invisible curtain just waiting to be torn open, the Earl spoke the word.
"Open."
Almost as though vines of a violet light sprouted from his fingertips at the verbalization of that one word, a single horizontal line of an ethereal glow shot from where his fingers met the darkness.
Energy like a ball of yarn gathered at the center steadily growing with every second like the opening of a great violet eye.
Any moment now, the Earl knew the portal he had opened upon this starless night would climax and he would be allowed safe passage from this place long before the rooster crowed or the morning dew had a chance to fall.
He knew this and yet he knew full well that if the homunculus didn't bring the royal guard to the castle, the energy signal of the portal surely would.
It had always been a plan relying mainly on theoretical timing, that the Earl should have enough time to reach the portal and escape according to his own math.
He was quite poor on time already but the encounter meant even less. All he could do was cross his spider like fingers and hope that he would have enough time to go through the climaxed portal and for it to vanish so the signature would no longer be trackable.
Tykki smiling in triumph, calling him a child and scolding him as though he were his parent would be something far worse than a miserable death by public execution, the young man thought.
All he could do was hope.
Hope.
Since when did the infamous Great Earl rely on something so pathetic and childish as hope?
Since when had the mighty fallen so low as to rely on that that cannot be seen?
Since when? Well, could it be any other time than a time as special as now?
Speaking of which, speaking of the now, speaking of the present time in this life, the beautiful young man known as the Great Earl heard a voice.
"No!" Cried out a familiar voice, frantic and yet serene and soft spoken in nature, "Don't leave me!"
The Earl paused, turning to face the owner of that gentle voice hidden under the veil of darkness. In his eyes was the poisonous gaze of a snake.
The homunculus. It had returned a second time.
He should have expected no less. Surely Tykki had ordered the creature to stall him so the man could have enough time to easily catch him in his tracks.
Yet the worst of it was that should he be caught now, not only would he be killed but his moving house, his precious and adored hiding place would be discovered and surely pillaged.
He would not let that happen under any circumstances.
"You. Come into the light." He hissed low, beckoning the creature closer.
A silence followed almost as though it was slow to process his words. Homunculi may have been unable to think for themselves, but normally the master was in full control of their mind so the Earl thought it odd.
Was this yet another system Tykki created to stall for time? At the moment, he could never be sure.
But not a moment after thinking those very thoughts, the sound of feet falling against concrete signaled to him that the creature was approaching just as he had been told.
The Earl was prepared for anything, be it an offensive on his part or the creatures. He may have been weak now, but surely he could overpower something as feeble as a homunculus, a mere hologram.
A part of him was half expecting Tykki himself to walk out of that darkness, and yet he was not surprised when that wasn't the case.
In the light of the energized portal, he found that what he observed on the stairs was not far from the honest truth.
Standing some yards away from him was a copy, a mirror image, a duplicate, a perfect replica of himself.
The creature was clad in a silk robe, pure clean white light fresh snowfall to sharply contrast it's dark skin. Unlike the Earl, this creatures complexion was healthy, it's unusually long hair clean and freshly washed. Though the original, the Earl looked like a corpse in comparison. Though he was the one living, baring a beating heart in his chest, this creature held more vitality than he ever had.
What an unusual reflection it was, reflecting not what was but all that could have been should fate have gone differently.
The reflection before him was nothing short of a beautiful creature, pure and kind in appearance like the fae themselves or a ghost but it, for reasons unknown to the Earl, appeared frightened; The creature did not meet his gaze but kept its eyes to the ground intensely, shifting its weight from foot to foot and swinging its arms back and forth like a child.
The creature was so beautiful in this heavy darkness, its natural elegance like a light. It struck him as odd that the perfect illusion took to such fear.
Just what had Tykki programmed this creature with.
It didn't matter, though. It's lifespan would end come the morning light and he would be far away from this city.
"Just who…" He whispered not to the homunculus but to Tykki himself, knowing the creatures hearing and sight all the possessions of the master, "Just who do you all think you are, that you could hold me...?"
As expected, its face screwed up and it furrowed its brow in confusion. The Earl contiNued anyway.
"You must think very high on yourselves to thi-! To think that you could ever-!" Anger boiled up inside his chest, the sort he could never even begin to express in words or actions, and it took him over for just a moment but it was just long enough, "Just who do you think I am that I-?!"
"Nea Campbell."
"That I would-!"
A pause. A heartbeat. A moment.
All the anger that fogged his mind like an insurmountable wall vanished in that time simply because of the sound uttered by a mere hologram. That had never happened before. The wrath of the Great Earl was not something anyone could easily curb, much less someone who didn't know him well.
Surely it was just a coincidence. There was no way in all that was that that thing could have intentionally chosen those specific words, those specific sounds to string together.
Almost instantly, the young man's entire body and soul wished to reject the concept but he still grew as pale as a ghost and the tongue inside his clenched jaw had never tasted saltier.
His fingers ceased to claw his forehead and his head rose from his hands.
Oh goodness, he thought, surely it is just a homunculus, surely he had said that name during his torture and Tykki was using it against him now, but he was Nearly positive he hadn't said anything of the sort.
His mind searched desperately in utter confusion for some kind of reason or some sort of possibility that would justify this lowly creature digging up such a ghost from his past as that wretched name.
"How….?" the young man breathed, almost pleading for this mysterious reflection who seemed to know so little to give him an answer, "How… How do you… know that name…?"
And when that same reflection responded by removing its hood and giving him an all too familiar smile he truly never thought he would see again, the Great Earl's mechanical heart ceased to beat.
It that moment, Nea Campbell breathed his first breath of life in over fourteen years.
"You may not remember…" It said, tilting its head to the side like a child as it shook the very foundations of Nea's world like it was as easy as breaking a twig in half, something Nea knew to be so like this creature in front of him, "But my name…. Is Mana …"
Please don't do this to me. Please, not now, not again, never again.
"It's been a while, Nea…"
My world was a palace of stable structures and laws written upon the purest of limestones.
My world was a well built boat upon a raging sea, I thought surely no force in nature should sink such a craft.
My world was a place of comfort to me, a place that kept me grounded when my fears threatened to steal me away and I thought so surely that nothing could cast it down the way your smile and the look in your brown eyes so similar to mine had.
I was fine and then you came in and ruined everything.
I was a king of this land and you stripped me of my kingdom and brought me low.
What you have done to me has not been forgotten nor will it ever cease to haunt my every waking moment but, perhaps it's because I doubted that serene peace, perhaps it's because I knew somewhere inside me, that I wasn't alright.
I didn't really think about it at the time, but perhaps that is why I pulled you through the portal once upon that dark accursed night.
Perhaps, you were right all along, Mana.
