Enter a grand room, lined with the most expensive tapestry only fit for a king. Each woven to depict some part of the universe; whether it be a galaxy, a single star, or the cosmos in their entirety. The marble tiles that lined the floors could be mistaken for a mirror with how they glistened, even at night. A crystal chandelier or two hung twenty feet above, casting blue and pink lights across the entire place. Now, move forward. Silently now, lest your foot fall echo throughout the entire area and alert someone to your presence. Will you go up the stairs to your left and enter one of the regal bed chambers? Filled with exotic silks and fine wood made only from trees that no longer existed? Perhaps you wish to choose the hallway on your right and enter the kitchen. There you will find a diligent crew preparing foods and feasts galore. Cooking avian and beasts from worlds unknown. Using only the most plump fruit, ready to burst with its juicy flavor. Everything was sterile. Dust or dirt were the enemy, only to be destroyed by the quick working maids who scoured the area. Their eyes sharp and rags ready to strike.
Instead, you continue forward. The hallway grows darker with each step, as if light just cannot exist. Perhaps it will not exist here? Was it taken away along with the warmth in the air? Perhaps it went where the hope was located. Where ever they were, they were surely not in that single hallway. After the horrible crawl forward through the hallway of nothingness, you come across a door. A single door unlike all the others. Instead of a polished wood, this door was of an alloy like material. Iron? Platinum? Who could say. It seems as if the door just doesn't belong, yet here it sat, and here it would stand. Go through the door, but move with care, for the area just inches on the other side of this unwelcome door drops a few inches down. One with unsure footing should turn back now. But if your footfall is precise, then start down the staircase. Don't even bother trying to sneak, for these stairs are old and rusted, and the slightest agitation produces a loud banshee call of a creek. The stairs take you to an oblivion. Go ahead and find the light switch, but it won't do you much good. The yellowed light bulb is pitiful. Surely a last second thought. But that doesn't matter. You would not be here unless you were granted permission to enter this room. And at that you would be working on muscle memory.
Or, of course, you might be someone who is being led to one of the horrible cells that lined the walls.
Dozens upon dozens of cells. Not just on this floor, but one on top of the other. Columns and rows of twenty. The cells formed a sort of circle, leaving the area in the middle empty and hollow. Almost like a birds bone. The lower cells only accessible by a creaky and unreliable ladder, ready to crumble to rusted dust at the slightest puff of air. Start down the ladder with care, and keep going. Past the 5th row. Past the 15th. And past the 20th. Make your way to the floor. Surrounding you are nothing but cement walls twenty feet tall, the diameter of this round area only about fifteen feet. The floor is compacted dirt, and the only source of the outside world one might hope to attain. Dead in the center, four chains gripped the floor with the strength of a Titan, not ready to let go at any moment. Unlike the rest of the dungeon, these chains were brand new, and still held a sort of shine to them. The shine bouncing from them at this point of time happened to be a candy pink. Four chains for four appendages. Each appendage bound to the floor. The prisoner could sit, stand, or if strong enough to move their shackles, walk a few inches in any direction their heart desired. Why would they walk, though? Everything down here was the same. A dirt floor in all directions, and a great concrete wall circling them. They were at the bottom of a stone barrel.
The prisoner in this poor prison was one of many, but obviously he was the most important, for he was bound for all to see and gawk at. At first, the prisoner had cried for help, but that was made fruitless. He had been gagged, unable to open his mouth more than a millimeter or two. Holes pocked through the gag allowed for shallow breathes. The prisoner had not been gagged because of their pitiful crying, however. No, they had been gagged to prevent the captors from having to endure the creatures amazing inhaling ability. Sucking up enemies and mimicking their attacks. It was a power sought after by all parties.
This prisoner, obviously, was the recently kidnapped Kirby.
It had only been about three days, but the horrible circumstances he was in prolonged that time to three eternities. There was no sunlight down here, so even the most primal way of time telling was lost to him. His only way of even guessing what time of day it was was by his sleep cycle. If he was tired, it was night. If he was wide awake, afternoon. But even this was starting to become unreliable. He was sleeping more and more. And when he slept, he slept longer. Or perhaps the horrible nightmares that had become more severe would startle him awake and keep him up. Soon he would not even be able to use this as a way to keep a small fraction of reality alive. Soon he would lose one of the last links to the outside world.
Kirby spent hours upon hours huddled in on himself, trying to find a position to lay where the chains did not weigh him down like giant hands attempting to crush him. But the chains must have been alive, for they only remained comfortable for a few moments before too much pressure forced Kirby to move once more. Of course, they weren't alive, but damn it all if it didn't feel that way sometimes. The areas where the chains held had rubbed his plucky pink skin a raw red. The gag was just ever too tight, also leaving a red imprint trailing the circumference of Kirby's round frame. Not only did the red skin burns feel on fire, but so did every other part of his body. Kirby had never been one to care too much for hygiene, but he would give almost anything for a bath right now. The dirt floor was filthy. Not just from the obvious dirt and mud, but some unknown stains littered the floor surrounding the perimeter of his circular hell-hole. He did not know what those stains where, but they were of dark color. Kirby could only guess, and hope he was wrong.
Shivering from the ever present chill that enclosed him at all hours, Kirby, for the hundredth time since his jailing, thought back to how this had all happened. He remembered so little, and what he could remember just made no sense. The farthest back he could remember before the darkness had overtaken him was standing off against the malevolent Marx Soul. No, not just Marx. But all of them as well. Thirty eyes had joined Marx's two in staring down Kirby with nothing but extreme prejudice in their pupils. The sight had made Kirby feel claustrophobic, and even as a memory shot chills down his spine. After the Dark Matter had charged him and bore into his very soul, Kirby had blacked out, swimming in and out of consciousness. He could remember fragments. Being carried by Meta Knight. A frigid plunge. His small group of friends gazing at him with so much worry that he almost felt guilt because of it. Kirby did not know when he had been kidnapped, but he swam in and out of consciousness then as well. Being handled by cold claws. Dragged down a beautiful hallway so bright and glorious that it could be described as Heaven's Gates. Being observed by the very Devil himself with his golden eyes of lust, scanning his weak form like it was the prize of a life time. Being shackled and condemned to the bottom of this stone barrel. Kirby had finally awoken and was able to remain conscious after he had been bound to the floor. He no longer felt the presence of the Dark Matter, and could only guess and hope they had done their job of immobilizing him long enough as to where they were no longer needed. No, the presence he felt was now all around him. More than half of the cages surrounding him had an occupant or two or five, and they all had some form of comment for Kirby. Ranging from surprise that their savior had been captured, to angry that Kirby wasn't out there stopping the madness befalling their world. In the end, Kirby had managed to tune the voices out, not being able to stand being shouted at for reasons he didn't quiet understand.
But he would take the shouting, the name calling, and the insults and everything else in between over The eyes that would always stare down at him from the dozens of eyes glaring at him. Kirby hadn't labeled those eyes, for they were all filled with the same curiosity and the same hatred, and picking one pair from another would be like picking a blade of grass over another. One cage, located just above this concrete barrel's wall and right in front of him, held a single prisoner. This prisoner had spoke nothing. They moved not an inch. All they did was remain motionless, and stare at Kirby with metallic silver eyes. Kirby had once returned the stare for what felt like an hour, and the only signs of life was the slow and mechanical blinking the creature performed every few minutes. Did this creature not sleep or eat? Not yawn or grow bored? Why had this prisoner found Kirby so interesting as to continue to observe him? Kirby hoped that sooner or later this prisoner would speak, just to give those eyes some kind of voice and life. But no, Kirby was sure he would not get his wish. The eyes seemed relentless, staring down at Kirby. Holding no hatred or ill will. No curiosity. Just nothingness.
At least, when it was just Kirby alone, the eyes stared. Sometimes a 'visitor' would pay Kirby a visit, and when those moments came, the eyes seemed to disappear into the shadows of its cage. Kirby knew why, and he wished he too could disappear into the shadows. The visitor was never the same creature as the last. Even in the pathetic gold light that was obscured by dust and dirt alike, Kirby would've known the visitors were corrupted by Dark Matter by sound alone. Creatures of all sizes, but all held the pupil-less empty gaze into oblivion. They all shuffled along the group like zombies with broken legs. What Kirby believed to be every half day, a beast would descend itself from the rusted ladder to do...something with Kirby. One time a large dose of blood had been taken, so much so that he had passed out for a long bit. Another time, he had been questioned on the knowledge of the Warp Star and Star Rod. When he refused to answer, mostly because his limited vocabulary prohibited him from answering with anything too detailed, he had received a powerful kick to the jaw that had just healed hours ago. A worse time had been when he was exposed to the Dark Matter once again. Just one had been preferable to the thirty before. But none would've been preferable to any! He did not know what the Dark Matter had done or when it had gone, but when Kirby had stopped crying and managed to gain his senses, he had felt a blistering migraine. But in a small glimmer of luck, none of these creatures had been Marx. Or even the possessed Dedede. Kirby wondered sometimes where the penguin was, and if he was safe.
Kirby shifted from his side to his stomach, clutching at the cold ground in hopes to relieve some pain. The multiple grooves surrounding him made it clear this solution was not working. Kirby hiccuped as he wept, but no tears were shed for there were none left. He was hungry but wasn't fed, cold but wasn't provided warmth, and scared but given no hand to hold. And Kirby knew why. He was a Star Warrior, and his captors knew it. Despite being no more than a toddler, Kirby's endurance far surpassed many veteran warriors. He could go for weeks on a single ration. Survive the blistering cold of any blizzard and march through. And fear...well, Kirby had looked Nightmare in the eyes and scowled at the dark lord. Why should he be afraid of a few chains?
But Star Warrior or not, Kirby was still hungry.
He was still cold.
He was still scared.
~OoO~
The Lor Starcutters overall atmosphere held the impression that the mission had already been lost. When in reality it had yet to truly begin. Everyone was off doing their own thing. Magolor kept himself focused on making sure his ship performed at maximum efficiency. His posture was hunched and most unlike the upbeat alien. Bandana sat against the wall closest to Magolor and made himself busy cleaning his staff. His eyes betrayed no emotion and instead were narrowed to focus on the task at hand. Sword and Blade had been exploring the ship, trying to become familiar with what would be their living area for possibly a few days. The ship was small, and they had made their rounds already but decided to go at it again. It was either that or sit in the painful silence.
Meta Knight was no where to be seen by the other four. He had secluded himself for the time being, sitting in the small bunk room located at the bottom of the Lor Starcutter. While the rest of the ship held a white glow only available through the use of electronic lights, the bunk room remained dark, the only reason being that Meta Knight wished to leave it that way. A single window did offer some illumination, casting a neon blue glow throughout. This glow was thanks to the portal they were currently traveling through. And right under that window is where you would find the knight sitting. His form was slumped forward. Not enough to think Meta Knight was asleep, but enough to tell something was out of the ordinary. The look in his eyes did not hold the constant vigilance like they were so known to be, but instead seemed almost foggy. Like his mind was far, far away. And it truly was. He thought of hour past. And of hour future.
The moment Magolor had spoken the name of their supposed savior, Meta Knight had felt his heart stop. A quick side glance to his knaves had confirmed they were feeling the same dread he was. Even Bandana seemed to twitch at the name. Magolor, at first, had been very mystified. He had tried explaining who Drawcia was, hoping that giving out her back story would put the others at ease. He even filled them in on how he knew of Drawcia, stating that her paint dimension was one of few that had been recently created in the last decade and logged in the Star Code Encyclopedia. What Magolor hadn't expected was for Sword and Blade to be able to finish telling the tale of her history, completely interrupting him and throwing him off guard. Before Magolor had even had a chance to bounce back, Meta Knight had spoken up, telling Magolor about Drawcias conquest for Dreamland, and exactly who had stopped her. Now it was Magolors turn to blanch, realizing just how difficult this situation was going to be. If Drawcia was one to hold a grudge, then they would be in for a rough while. In the end, their solution had been simple, if not risky. They wouldn't mention Kirbys name. In fact, because Meta Knight was so similar to Kirbys form, he would be taking a major back seat in the talking, and instead letting the other three explain things. The problem of not including Kirbys name would mean they would have to plead for help in another way. They couldn't use the argument of their universes savior being kidnapped, because the universes savior had been Drawcias downfall.
Things could never just be easy.
All at once, the blue inside the room shifted to a lavender. And then a candy yellow. Then returned to blue. Meta Knight could only lift a questioning eyebrow before a slight static noise could be heard.
"Everyone back to the bridge. We're here."
It had been Magolor, speaking over the intercom. Nothing more was said, and when the static ceased, Meta Knight knew there was nothing left to say. Even as he rose to his feet, the light inside the room continued to flicker, turning pastel shades of the rainbow but lingering on blue the longest. Meta Knight allowed himself a view of the outside world. He had only dimension hopped once, and that had been with Magolor on their way to Halcandria. But even then, he hadn't taken a moment to look outside. Now, he wish he had, for the sight that befell him was one of fantasy. It seemed as if a thousand streaks of light were flying by him all at once. Before, while they were still dimension hopping, the lights had been nothing but neon blue and a bit of white. But now, there were hundreds of colors flying past, almost like small tails of a meteorite. If Meta Knight remembered correctly from Magolor's rants about dimension hopping, then this was because the dimension they were traveling too was starting to form, and the portal was opening. It really was time for action.
Inside the bridge, Meta Knight found that he had been the last to arrive. Sword and Blade stood at attention close to the door Meta Knight had entered from, so he could guess they had just arrived moments before. They offered him a respectful head nod, in which he returned. Then all eyes traveled to the giant monitor, watching as it spat data out in a continuous stream. Altitude, coordinates, temperature, velocity; The screen displayed it all. Bandana and Magolor stood side by side. The Waddle Dee had backed off from Magolor, giving the captain space to safely guide the ship out of the wormhole. Wouldn't want to accidentally leave something important behind in the inter-dimensional portal now!
And then, all the data cleared, suddenly being minimized and hidden in a small toolbar at the bottom of the screen. When all the charts and bars were gone, as single image popped open, filling the entirety of the monitor and even stretching beyond its limits. No, not an image. Birds could be seen flying by, and creatures almost parallel to Dreamlands natives were below, going about their daily tasks or playing simple games. Completely unaware that an eye in the sky was watching. Instead of a photo, this was in fact a video display of what was outside them right now. And smack dab in the center, the video focused on the largest architectural feat of engineering the aliens had ever laid eyes on. A granite castle bleached white rose from the watercolor grass below, it's tallest spires kissing the spray painted clouds. The castles outer decor and architect could've been pulled straight from a classic fairy tale story. All that was missing was the fair princess picking roses at the top of the tallest tower.
But instead of a princess, they were seeking out a wicked witch.
All at once, the creatures in the video turned towards the sky, expressions of morbid curiosity present. The same ones that the Cappys held when the very sky had ripped open. And for that same reason, they all stared. The familiar blue five pointed portal exploded forth from nothingness, relinquishing the grand ship into this new place. The creatures below gasped, murmuring questions to each other. What was that strange ship? Who had come? Were they friend or foe? Magolor took only a minute to find a safe area to land. Luckily, fields were plentiful in this part of the world, so the landing would be the easiest part of this journey. As the ship entered auto-pilot and descended toward its landing place, Magolor cracked his fingers, not bothering to turn toward the group.
"Alright kiddies. Thank you for flying Air Magolor." He joked, although there wasn't much humor in his voice. It had been a half attempt to lighten the devastating mood.
"Magolor, how do you know Drawcia is here exactly?" Blade questioned.
"We traveled to her dimension, but did we travel to her location?" Sword tacked on, nodding at Blade before turning back to the captain. Magolor shrugged, still keeping his eyes on the screen.
"Figuring that stuff out is pretty easy. You see-" Meta Knight allowed himself to zone out as the captain explained the capabilities of dimensional traveling and individual locations in the vast scheme of things. Frankly, it didn't matter too much to him. So long as they were close to Drawcia. Now being in the witches world, he allowed himself to focus in on the video, following the ships path as she took it herself. The world around them really was a world of paint. Watercolor splotches seemed to be the most prominent visual in this land, but here and there one could find heavy oil pants to make up trees and shrubbery. The clouds were airbrushed, and they held the look of paint splatters. Whether this land would have the texture of a canvas or actual organic substance was unknown as of now. So, this is what Drawcia considered a perfect world? To the knight, it was too colorful. But to each its own, he supposed.
Just as Magolor finished his lecture, the ship touched ground, settling with such care as if the grass was made of paper mache. (It might be!) Bandana peeked out the window, taking precaution to be kept unseen. Outside, the masses were gathering, their eyes wide and bodies trembling. It was very odd to see native look alikes from Dreamland here in this paint world, and if it wasn't for their slight discoloration, he would believe himself still home. None were Cappies though, but instead more animal like. Hamsters and squids and other stray beasts of plenty populated this land. Of course, there was one native of this world that would stand out from the rest. But she had yet to make an appearance. Bandana wondered if Drawcia would show up at all. He turned his body toward the group of four, who in turn stared back. Magolor had shut the video off, knowing that it was no longer needed for guidance. Bandana shook his head no, to indicate she wasn't out there. Nobody knew if this was good or bad.
"Do you think the natives are friendly?" Blade asked, crossing his arms.
"I would wager that they are." Meta Knight replied. "While the paint witch may be a radical type, that does not mean all others follow her ideals."
"Well whether they're friendly or evil, we'll need their help to find her. Hopefully we can just ask where Drawcia is and we can be taken to her." Magolor suggested, powering down the Lor Starcutter. She settled into the dirt even further, no longer having thrusters for support. "If not..." He let out a breathless laugh. "We better carry some paint thinner." Magolor started for the door. "Well, time's a'wasting, and all that." He put his hand on the door handle, but before moving it, turned to Meta Knight. "You remember the plan?" Meta Knight nodded. He would only speak up if need be. Magolor didn't respond, but just turned toward the door. It opened without a squeak. All eyes squinted at the sudden change of light, going from mechanical to natural in a split second. Magolor looked out at all the gaping faces. He couldn't count how many natives were present, but he put the number at more than twenty. And growing by the minute. Magolor cleared his throat.
"Hello." He greeted, offering a hand wave. The crowd gazed at his hand like it held the button to end the world. Magolor put it down. Okay, be friendly, but be less animated. "Any of you guys speak English?" He questioned, his warm eyes turning more strained. Still, no one responded. "I know English is one of the native languages here. I, well, we really need to talk to someone." He asked, clasping his hands in front of him, almost begging. Still, no one. Either they were all too afraid, or nobody could understand him. Magolor figured it was a bit of both.
A light pressure on his side caught his attention. Looking down, Bandana had just scooted past Magolor and bound down the ramp, stopping a few feet before the end. He did not hold his spear in his hands, instead opting to leave it leaning against the interior ships wall. The crowd looked at the Waddle Dee with confused eyes, as did the group still in the Lor Starcutter. A few moments of silence passed where Bandana continued to scan the crowd, eyeballing each native. Before he could reach the end of the half circle surrounding the Lor Starcutter, his head stopped. He jammed his arm forward in a dramatic fashion, calling a creature out with nothing more then an assertive arm. The creature, it turned out, was another Waddle Dee. The two were mirror images of one another, the only difference being the blue bandana. Without saying a single word, the two seemed to start communicating, gesturing around wildly. Bandana continuously pointed at his entourage and the sky, while the other Dee responded with either fierce head shaking or a slow head nod.
"I get it now..." Sword mumbled for Meta Knight, Magolor, and Blade to hear. " They have their own language. Waddle Dees can communicate with each other."
"Telepathically?" Magolor questioned, keeping his voice low. Sword shrugged, honestly not knowing if words needed to be used at all, out loud or not. Now they returned their attention to the charade. The Waddle Dee had gained an iota of confidence, and had approached the ship, while Bandana had taken this as a good sign, and descended the ramp. The two 'spoke' face to face at the bottom of the ramp, their movements less animated and frantic now. As if they were reaching a conclusion. A few seconds later, and the duo seemed to fist bump, high five, low five, down low and too slow. The Dee pair turned toward the crew of the Lor Starcutter. Their eyes were on Bandana. Not only theirs, but the large group of natives had taken interest in the conversation they couldn't really understand.
"Well?" Blade asked, leaning forward a bit with apprehension. Bandana pointed at the castle, and nodded a single time.
"She's at the castle?" A head nod. "Can speak with Drawcia?" Sword questioned, a flicker of hope in her voice. Bandana cringed, raising his hand and tilting it back in forth. As if he was trying to say 'eeeeh'. Sword deadpanned. "Is there a catch?" Her tone was flat. Bandana turn toward his Dee kin. The Dee lifted a hand to his temple, and began spinning it in rapid circles. Bandana nodded, turned back toward the crew, and repeated this motion. Raising his own arm and using it to circle his temple multiple times. You could almost hear the cuckoo birds.
"So she's...insane?" Magolor tested the word. Bandana nodded once. "Hmm...well...huh." He scratched the back of his head, giving up on describing how he felt. "Does your friend think she'll talk anyways?" Once more, Bandana turned toward the other Dee. A few seconds of silence passed, then the Dee merely shrugged his shoulders, nothing more. "Will he take us to her?" Bandana nodded.
With the burden of locating the sorceress gone, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted, allowing the protagonists to breath a collective sigh of relief. But this would not last long, for the hardest part of this mission was soon to be upon them. The Waddle Dee seemed to notice their growing tension, and decided that it should not prolong their task any longer. He gestured for the group to follow him. Like back in Pupupu Village, the crowd split apart to allow a long passage way through. Magolor had snatched Bandanas staff, and tossed it to him. He caught it, and held it in a position that no one would be hurt. The group could tell their weapons made the natives nervous. If they could be sure Drawcia would not harm them, they would have just left the weapons behind, and sought them out after they had struck a deal with the witch. Sadly, there was a good possibility they would have to defend themselves.
As the group walked away, the natives began surrounding the Lor Starcutter, trying to get an eye full of the strange vessel that had ripped open the very fabric of space. Poor Magolor was ever so twitchy. He would peek over his shoulder every few meters to make sure his ship was still standing. And when he wasn't peeking, he was fidgeting. Finally, after the tenth time of doing this, Blade had put a hand on Magolors shoulder. (Or at least where he thought his shoulder was)
"Your ship is still there. It'll be there in five meters. It'll be there in five-hundred meters." Blade lectured, failing to hide the laughter in his voice. Magolor wrung his hands.
"It's like I'm leaving my child to the wolves." Magolor mumbled, fear in his higher pitched than usual voice. Blade gave Magolor a reassuring pat on the back.
The journey to the castle was filled with many horrified looks and passing comments form the natives. None of which the aliens could really understand, but just the way a posture would become hunched or a conversation would cease made it perfectly clear their presence was not too welcome. Though they were sure the only reason they had not yet been attacked was because they had not attacked first. Or perhaps it could be in part to the native Waddle Dee being in such close proximity to the outsiders. The aliens couldn't be that dangerous is a mindless Waddle Dee would stray close and become associated with them to boot, right? As the grand castle started to rise over the horizon line, more and more details came into view. From far away, the castle looked to be in perfect condition with nary a crack or chink in sit. But closer inspection revealed that to not be the case. Cracks littered the base of the castle, but as your eyes traveled upward they started to vanish all together. Ivy had started to reclaim its territory, and rose towards the heavens. Both ivy and cracks snaked along at random and odd intervals, and it would not be wrong to describe the patterns almost lightning bolt like in appearance. Not only was the castles stone walls cracked, but so to were a few of its regal stained-glass windows. On the front of the castle alone there were four of these windows, each barely wide enough to fit the Lot Starcutter, but at least double its height. The one to the far left had a giant hole in it, leaving the image it depicted lost to the masses. Each window offered a different scene. A quick description of all four would be the scene of some sort of birth or creation of this paint land. The creation of the sun and moon, of the souls that inhabited the people, and other pictures that weren't very clear with what they were showing. In between these windows was a massive door, carved from a monster of a tree. For the door was double the width of the glass windows. Although it was only half the height. On front of the door, a carving could barely be made out. It was of the paint witch herself. Rays of light extended from her back, showering the little wood carving citizens with light and prosperity. They all had their hands up, reaching out towards Drawcia. Under the carving, a surprise awaited. It seemed as if the phrase that had been originally carved into the door had been clawed out, replaced with a new one. What the original could've read would forever be unknown.
The six made it to the base of the door, but did not enter just yet. Sword and Blade had begun repeating the phrase out loud, trying to get their tongues to pronounce the strange alien language. The confused face of the Waddle Dee made it clear how well they were doing. Magolor and Meta Knight looked upon the image carved into the door, trying to make sense of it.
"Well...Drawcia did create this place." Magolor mentioned without turning towards the knight. "The people would probably see her as a goddess here. In fact, I think this place isn't so much a castle as it is a...cathedral. What do you think?"
"That may be the case..." Meta Knight replied, his voice barely higher than a whisper. Magolor finally gave the knight a look. His eyes were full of concern.
"You don't sound like you believe that too much." Silence for a few moments. Then Meta Knight began observing the rest of the castle, tilting his head this way and that. Disheveled state of disrepair and all.
"If she is a goddess among these people, then why have they allowed this place of worship to start to crumble? Why did they discrete this door?" Meta Knight quipped. "I am also thinking, when Drawcia attacked our home, she was alone when she arrived. Why did she not have a battalion with her? In fact, why didn't she have anyone with her? If a goddess, she should've had almost an entire army willing to fight for her. And yet, she did not. Why?"
Magolor made to answer, emitting a quick and loud breathe, but no words or replies came with it. These were excellent points, Magolor admitted to himself. He scratched the back of his head, then turned back towards the door. The sight that created him was a bit surprising. Sword and Blade had backed away, and let Bandana and the Waddle Dee have some space. Bandana held his spear into the dirt, and was carving letters. Every few letters he would look up at the Waddle Dee. Silence, then more carving. Even Meta Knight had been drawn to this strange event. The words Bandana was scraping into the dirt was English, although a few of the words were misspelled or a letter was backwards. Sure, he could understand the language, but reading and writing it was just a bit difficult for a creature that was supposed to be mindless. With the last letter, Bandana set the end of the staff into the dirt with a satisfied nod. Even with the spelling errors or wrong letters, the phrase in the dirt was one of hatred.
'Corruption and greed now fill her mind. Past these doors only hatred you'll find. By the hero of pink, weakened and slain. So now we are free, never to love her again!'
Magolor whistled. "Well, there's our answer." A quick glance at Waddle Dee would reveal it glaring holes through the door. Even someone has mindless as a Waddle Dee felt hate against the witch. The history of this land and of her rule could only be guessed at, but it surely be one of violence and betrayal. "I wonder what happened to her..."
"Whatever happened here is not our concern." Meta Knight spoke, his voice quick. "We need to seek assistance from the witch, regardless if her people care for her or not." The knight faced the Waddle Dee, who had just now turned its glare away from the door and possibly what laid behind it. "May we enter?"
Bandana relayed the message to the Waddle Dee, and the Dee nodded. Grabbing both doorknobs, the Dee started to yank the looming doors open. A horrible groan penetrated the air, causing the party to flinch in pain. For a Dee to be able to open such massive doors was remarkable, but nobody paid too much attention to the feat. The doors were not open all the way, but they had been opened a few feet and the crack was wide enough to allow the group to slip through single file. Which they did, the Dees leading with the others following close behind. As they started further into the room, the door slammed shut. But because the Dee did not so much as flinch, nobody paid it any attention. Now they stood in the middle, and every inch of this room was observed. It certainly did not hold the look of a holy place of worship. At least, not anymore. While the outside had looked decayed thanks only to nature, the insides destruction was man made. Pews had been tossed over, and many of them set ablaze. Cracks in the stone floor were not uncommon, as was the graffiti that covered every inch of the walls. All of the words were unknown to the aliens, but one could only guess. Old spray cans, papers, and debris in general sat undisturbed. Everything had a layer of dust. The only thing in this room not destroyed sat at the far end, opposite to the door. It was a mirror standing upon a simple marble pedestal Its frame held no concrete design, but was instead a wild display of surreal shapes and bold colors. While the glass itself was square, the mirror was a warped rectangle with shapes jutting out at all side. Upon closer exploration, the glass was not whole, but instead cracked throughout. The slightest rattle could send the pieces cascading toward the floor, turning them to dust. This is what the Dee pointed at.
"Drawcia is in the mirror?" Sword asked. A quick translation, and the Dee nodded. "How do we get her out, then?"
The Dee was calm as Bandana translated this, but once the question sunk in, Dee bounced backwards, an expression of horror visible. It shook his head back and forth with great speed. Gesturing with emotion, the Dee spoke to Bandana. Bandana nodded, then turned back to the group. He looked a bit perplexed as he tried to explain what the Dee had spoke. If only he had a pen, maybe! But he did not, so the idea was discarded. Instead, Dee raised a stubby arm to where the location of a mouth would be if he had one. He nodded. Then, he raised his arm to his eyes, but this time he shook his head no. The four others shared a mutual confused look.
"Mouth, nod. Eyes, head shake..." Blade muttered.
"...We may speak with the witch, but we may not see her?" Meta Knight questioned, all eyes returning to Bandana. He nodded, displaying pride at having come up with a way to translate the information. Meta Knight did not speak for a long while. But when he did, his tone was hushed, and directed only at Magolor.
"Will she still assist us even if we are unable to see her in person?" Magolor could only shrug. This mission just kept getting harder.
Now his tone was back to normal, and directed to the Dee. "How do we contact her?" The Dee pointed at the painting. "We just go up to it and speak?" Head nod. "Thank you for assisting us, then. But from now on we must speak with her alone." The Waddle Dee looked hesitant to leave.
"We just want to talk to her and ask for a favor. We don't really need to see her." Magolor offered. Though he didn't really believe that. Bandana translated this all, and in the end, the Dee nodded with caution. Whether it truly believed them or not was a mystery, but in the end, it left. Closing the door behind it with a loud slam. Now, they were alone. Every creak or leak the cathedral produced echoed throughout the entire room multiple times. Who knew how loud the witches voice was going to be. Well, they would soon find out. Meta Knight had started for the mirror, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Remember the plan, Meta Knight." Magolor instructed. His tone was that caution. This agitated the knight, but he did not show it. Putting his faith in his friends should not be so challenging, but this conversation and what happened after could very well determine the fate of their own universe. He cemented his feet to the floor as Magolor started forward. Sword and Blade followed, and Bandana and Meta Knight brought up the rear. A surprising noise filled the room. It was Blades soft laughter.
"Is it just me, or is it kind of weird that the person doing most of the talking is the only person not from our dimension?" Blade asked, giving each party member a look in hopes of an answer. Sword shrugged, replying with a soft 'kinda'. Magolor gave a quick laugh, but said nothing more. Neither Bandana nor Meta Knight responded. When Blade returned his eyes forward, they were standing just feet from the pedestal that housed the shattered mirror. Magolor turned around, and his eyes held his question. 'Everyone ready?' When nobody stopped him, Magolor nodded, then faced the mirror once more. He cleared his throat. Okay, talking with natives and friends was easy. Talk casually and like nothing was wrong. How did one speak with a goddess who had fallen from grace?! Formally, perhaps? Or with a pleading tone? Again, even though he had just done so, he cleared his throat. But this time, a sharp intake of breathe could be heard. He was about to speak.
"To be so desperate as to seek out I. One who was damned and fell from high. For what reason could that possibly be? Speak fast, I'm losing my curiosity."
The witch spoke English! And her words were full of playful malice. The noise that came from Magolor in his fright was not mortal. It would be comical and one for taunting, but the situation currently was not the best for humor.
"You yelp like a hound who was just whipped. Yes, your masculinity seems to have slipped!"
Well, maybe the situation could have some humor. The tone of voice was that of a young woman. But no woman could have a voice that was so sharp it felt as if the tip of a knife was being caressed across your back. It was cold and filled to the brim with sharp sarcasm. But Magolor would not let this phase him. Building up all his courage, he spoke.
"Drawcia, we need your help."
"No, now go."
"Drawcia!"
Silence is all that responded.
This would have to be my favorite chapter to date. :D Canvas Curse is my favorite Kirby game, and I just adore Drawcia. So I'm happy she gets to play a part in this story. Her world is going to be based off of what I think it might be. I imagine it like a fantasy setting, just reaaaally gaudy and colorful. And next chapter expect something I just loooove writing. HISTORY.
My updates (Or at least the next one) might take juuust a bit longer than usual. Combination of getting sick and running out of steam. Just need a bit of break from writing and I'll be good to go! (Not three months this time I promise. :I)
Oh! Before I forget to mention. This story has hit ten favorites and ten followers! YIPPEEEE! Love you guys!
Review, comment, favorite, market, avenge, doodle, two-step two, hum a jolly melody about, face pet, and ENJOY this chapter.