When Memories Collide Part 3!
A broken, hoarse rasp left Vincent, "Vanessa! H-How come…you are in here?"
"You were not supposed to get in here." Her eyes glowing in the night possessed a glint of danger, merciless. "I made sure of that: I locked and blocked your memories away! Oh, do not give me that look, you pathetic creature. You were supposed to gradually lose yourself, undone by my hand so that the world would lose its hope. It already lost its faith on my part, so why not hope too? The world does not deserve our gifts, Vincent. Our generosity, our hope, our faith, those selfish mortals should not devour it so thanklessly. Why should I help those who do not appreciate it? WHY SHOULD I?! No, no the real question is…why are you doing just that? A little dog on a leash to bounce up and make everyone else happy. You dare turn against your own flesh and blood! You dare defy me! Close this door, Vin—close it! Forget your past, it does not matter. Neither of us matter."
Without even wishing for it, those words evoked a sense of unbridled frustration from him. Normally calm waves in his patient soul were edged with red, hot anger for the briefest of moments. It was so uncommon for Vincent that it secretly frightened him. Somehow, the stutter often breaking his voice disappeared completely.
"Sister, forgive me, but it is you who should not be present here," Vincent uttered through gritted teeth whilst wringing his scarf, desperate to regain control over his composure. His gaze locked on hers—twin emeralds colliding. "You are inside my head—in my mind! You have interfered with my thoughts and memories, just for your own ideals. Heavens, I even went out searching for you! I loved you…I missed you. And all this time, every day, every minute, you have hidden yourself inside my own head: in the last place I would have known how to reach due to your actions. How long have you been here?"
Vanessa growled low in her throat, "Your whines are of no consequence to me."
"How can you say that, dearest sister? Please, what happened to make you feel this way?"
"What happened? I realised that the world is so ungrateful, so greedy, so foolish," she sneered, disgusted. "They expect us to bring them good things when they do nothing to deserve them. Why should I give them faith? They should suffer more, and be more thankful for any good things that come their way. Instead? They merely abuse the faith and hope we give them, carrying on, forgetting us entirely. Do we not exist? Do we not have a say in what we do, how our futures will pan out? How we feel?! The Guardian struts around all high and mighty with the oh-so-dear love of the world showering him in praise…and all he has to do to get it is show his smug face and it brings appreciation, cheer, and loyalty. Where is our loyalty, Vincent? You tell me."
A remark Vincent thought would only dwell in his head slipped free before restrain could call it back, "Rayman is most certainly not how you paint him to be! And the loyalty is gone because you made it so, my sister. In terms of the world, we do not exist. You made sure of that. Why did you do this?"
All of a sudden he paled. The sudden act of bluntness not only stunned Vincent, whose eyes went excessively wide in pure shock over his actions, but also Vanessa. Where she stood, she appeared to waver for a moment, but it took a drastic U-turn if the fire in her eyes was anything for him to go by. It grew full to the brim with flaring distain, with hatred.
"How dare you speak of what you do not understand! There has never been any loyalty because to them we never even existed in the first place! Besides, I do not have to explain myself to anyone, let alone a traitor like you. I loved you more than anything, but now your mere sight disgusts me. So timid, so naïve, so gullible—it sickens me. Do not look so shocked; I warned you I no longer have a heart to give. Have your hope if you want it so bad, then. But do not come crying to me when you realise it will bring you no salvation. As of now, you are as good as dead to me. You will find no faith in me!" she roared.
The shadow so smoky and black suddenly released a feminine roar of fury, before evaporating into thin air. Dark particles carried her final words away into a whisper as they were taken on the wind, fleeing the two moons behind her: as she fled the sympathetic gaze from her twin mothers. Never would she return, for she remained lost…corrupted.
XXXX
"Of course, why didn't I realise it sooner?"
Caught utterly off-guard, Morgroff jumped in shock and nearly slipped from the control panel. He turned his head to raise a furry brow at Rayman, feeling rather peeved. Bow had sat herself directly next to him, so he snorted in amusement when being forced to peer through her two antennae in order to see his comrade. The moment he laid eyes on the Guardian, however, he felt a wave of curiosity overtake him. That astonished sheen in wide, blue eyes, that gaping mouth, that aura of pure excitement. Morgroff gave a slight tilt of his head; what was going on inside Rayman's head right now?
For something had noticeably set the gears within Rayman's mind spinning a mile a minute.
Rather than answer, before Morgroff could even open his mouth to question it, Rayman interrupted, "Vin…it's Vin! He's my one-way ticket to my goal! He's my means to a closure, my only link."
"Your link to what, exactly?" Morgroff asked.
Rayman gave the cat a knowing, triumphant smirk. "Not 'what,' Morgroff—'whom!' My link to whom!"
XXXX
Once she vanished, Vincent set a wary stare on the mystical room beyond the doorway. There was a concerned tugging on his soul as his heart made the decision for him: the decision to disobey his twin, to uncover the truth and to set himself free. But would it, truly, set him free? Or would it simply send him on a one-way trip to insanity? All he knew was that the longer and longer he stayed put, the more the gentle beckoning from the room became a demanding roar, and yet nothing but silence could be heard. The call to enter resided in his core—not physically, but emotionally. An unseen rope tying his fate to the memory room, its once concerned tugs now those of resolve. Suddenly, he knew there had never been a choice to begin with. He had to enter.
To Vincent the room appeared endless, spreading out as far as the eye could see, no horizon visible among the blackness. It instilled caution as he finally took his first steps inside, flicking his gaze down to the watery floor in fear. However, the sinking he believed would occur never happened. Instead, his footsteps caused dark waters to ripple out and away from him as he walked on top of it; the silver, blue, and purple stars within its waters shimmering like a galaxy with each wave.
After sending a glance back over his shoulder, Vincent swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat. Behind him, he merely watches the door slowly, slowly, closing in his wake, its hinges giving rough creaks until it thudded shut. There was a sense of finality in the sound; its echo throughout the strange realm was final. There was no turning back. The door had opened, had let him in, and now had shut to force him to stay. Deep down, uncertainty on whether this was his sister's doing or not plagued him. Had she shut him in here on purpose? Perhaps in an attempt to make him regret his decision? Because whether he wanted them or not, his memories would now be restored. His features withdrew into a crestfallen frown at the prospect.
For no secret exit existed if he changed his mind.
Shaking his head to dislodge such an idea, he steeled himself. No, no I have to do this. My life depends on it…Rayman depends on it.
XXXX
The Guardian's expression softened, tone tender yet forlorn, "Who? The one person…I have been so desperately searching for, hoping for, fraught to save. The woman who was stolen away from me. All those years ago, I swore an oath…I swore I would not rest until I got her back. Morgroff, do you know the legend of how the Glade of Dreams was created? About the Nymphs, and the fight between Betilla and Edith? The dark prophecy that resulted?"
"Of course I do," Morgroff grumbled. "Give me a little credit. I swear you forget I was a normal person once and not a ginger housecat. Such a tale was a popular favourite…with my little brother. I often told it to Razoff as a bedtime story when we were young."
The image that small description conjured almost brought a sweet smile to Rayman's face: a scene with a child-like Razoff snuggled up in bed, those red covers tightly tucked up to his neck, the king-sized bed dwarfing his tiny body until he looked almost lonesome, and a toy gun next to his pillow for beginners shooting practise. His teenage brother sitting on the edge of the mattress, book held loosely in hand, telling the tale with great enthusiasm. Razoff's onyxes full of fun, as are those of all youth, yet also underlined with the developing cunning he would grow up to possess and be renowned for. Rayman did not know whether such a depiction held any truth, but for some reason it felt right. Felt accurate without needing to have been present himself.
While shaking the adorable scene away—because Polokus knows he would never admit to such a thing about the blasted Hunter—Rayman cleared his throat, uncomfortable. If only Morgroff did not possess such sharp intelligence and cunning as well, then perhaps he would have missed the flippant action. But as it so happens, the cat did not mistake it and an amused grin crossed his face. 'You totally just envisioned my brother as a child and found it cute,' that grin seemed to mock, to which Rayman released a huff and averted his gaze, pout of defiance on his face. Never, he would never admit it. He had too much pride.
At quickly realising he was not going to coerce an admittance from the stubborn male, Morgroff gave a defeated sigh, "Old Chap, what has that story got to do with Vincent and this woman you speak of? How is he your link?"
"Because of what happened next in the tale. Remember how Polokus negated the evil curse that was set to burn the world and Betilla's descendent to ashes…by asking two certain Goddess children to intervene? That they were to take the descendent when the prophecy came to pass? My friend, Ly, was Betilla's descendent. The Twin Moons, Hope and Faith, took her away. It is so obvious! Twin Moons—Vincent—Ly. Morgroff, they all connect. They all fit!"
Understanding swiftly dawned on the feline. Amber eyes widened. "Wait…are you saying…?"
"If Vin can get all his memories back, rediscover who he truly is and how to get back in contact with the Twin Moons…Vin can bring Ly back! Vin can bring her back to me—can become the path between our two worlds. He's my one and only link to her!"
XXXX
Only upon reaching the room's centre did Vincent shyly risk a glance at the Twin Moons…
Before suddenly sinking amidst their glow. Icy, smooth water went to grab his boots, enticing a shiver as it gently took hold and dragged him beneath the surface. Down, down, down he sank, floating among the millions of liquid stars that were softly caressing his skin. It all seemed so dark and yet was filled with starry lights—a strange combination. Vincent allowed himself one last smile. It felt so, so cold, but not in a bad way. No, never in a bad way. More akin to the refreshing chill night brings once the moon starts to rise.
One last time, his stare turned up towards the surface. It was growing further and further away, fainter and fainter, drifting beyond his reach. Half-lidded eyes wistfully stared at the pale reflection of the Twin Moons. Then, they closed to block the sight, at peace for the first time in many years. A relieved sigh left him in the form of bubbles.
Except a significant, eerie thought broke his contentment. A heart began hammering within his chest—petrified.
"Tell me, in reality, am I a bad person, just like I have always feared? In my core…am I like Vanessa, too? Tell me…that I have a shred of genuine goodness in my heart."
Once trapped memories finally departed and set sail. Unseen, they were trickling back into his mind, a moonlit river of hope, its wind finally catching his fate's mast and setting his ship free. He remained the boat upon an estuary, his memories the vast ocean to drift towards. He grimaced at how insistent their pressure against his brain became…
Until his eyes all of a sudden widened, a gasp of bubbles carrying his surprise up into starry waters.
Until he remembered…everything.
XXXX
Rayman gave the monitor a curious raise of his eyebrow, intrigued. Before him, the file about Vincent's abilities was labelled as 'unknown,' except the last part. Sweeping a hand through his bangs to move them more aside, since sweaty strands were falling into his vision, he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the words better. It stated Vincent's abilities were undiscovered to the Robot Lord, but notes revealed the belief that the son of Hope and adopted son of Jano had developed what was categorized as mental abilities. He gave a disgruntled snort; that was all it said. Not exactly enlightening or specific, he thought.
"How are the screens doing over there, Morgroff?" He casually tossed over his shoulder.
Focused on the screens, Morgroff informed without even looking at him, "Things are relatively calm at the moment, no patrols heading our way at least. But I also have not seen Razorbeard, or my android counterpart, or Rosyetta at all, which in itself is both a blessing and a curse."
Alarmed, the Guardian hastily typed in the code from earlier with a glare. After 'SC-582' was inputted, the same left-hand screen as before flashed with blinding grey and white static, before switching location. Morgroff felt his heart plummet when the sight of the unconscious Vincent replaced it: still trapped in his cage, still pale—still looking near death. However, his tail flicked in anxiety, for neither his android body nor Razorbeard were present either. It seemed Rayman felt the same way, for ambers glanced over to discover a thoughtful glower upon his face. Both merely stared at the dying Vincent. If the Robot Captain and Second in Command were not there yet…then where had they gone? What were they doing right now?
"I think…we should all get a move on," Rayman muttered, expression a scowl, "I don't care where Razorbeard is—he's not currently with Vin. We need to get to him first."
If only, if only fate did not resemble a cruel and ruthless deity. Her intentions all a game: a wicked play on the lives of others, her happiness fed by turmoil. The world was her chest board while her subjects mimicked the pieces. No one daring to be her opponent on the other side of the table—too afraid to lose. Her heartless eyes remain unseen yet locked on all, watching your every move. And, if you do not do something to her liking…her malicious hands will outstretch to interfere. To pull you, to pluck you, to punish you.
For as Rayman stood from the horrid throne and took both Bow and Morgroff in hand, moving to lift them into the vent once more, and then grabbing the edge with his unnatural reach, he failed to notice the change. As he pulled himself up into the vent gap with a grunt and vanished into its shadows, he missed that fateful image.
As he crawled away with destination in mind and heart…Rayman failed to witness the Robot Lord entering Vincent's room on camera. Failed to see the near impossible sight before static swept it away again.
Yet, above all else, there was one key thing the Guardian forgot:
He forgot to log off the computer.
XXXX
"…Vincent?"
A sharp intake of breath resounded. Dazed, deep emeralds revealed themselves from behind his eyelids, vision blurred as he tried to regain his focus. Ever, ever so slowly, the blurry colours began to sharpen the more and more he recovered. Black, purple, and silver blurs mesmerised his eyes: the leather couch his forehead leant against feeling clammy and flat, the luxurious rug beneath him so soft, the fire twirling undeterred within the hearth. All eventually honed in until everything became clear and defined once more. Including the sensation of a hand smoothing through his hair, making him frown.
He groaned at realising he was on the floor. With his head supported by the side of the couch Jano sat within, he found himself directly facing the fire that was a few metres away, the purple rug felt beneath his fingers. When had he slipped to the ground? Panting from the strain, Vincent grunted under his breath when manoeuvring himself back onto his haunches. It felt incredibly uncomfortable, the stiffness making his movements difficult and a pained hiss escaped him. Still the hand did not stop its soothing strokes through his hair even though he had moved.
Only a tired, croaky whisper left Vincent, "J-Jano? I…what…I do not understand."
"Tell me, little one," Jano encouraged, carefully moving the stroking hand down to Vincent's back to help get him back onto his feet. The boy trembled a little, shaken, but Jano made sure his hand supported him. The uncomprehending gleam in emerald eyes did not go unnoticed as he gingerly lifted a finger to brush those bangs aside. "What happened in there? You were gone quite a while."
"I…I think I just met her. My sister."
"Vanessa?" Jano gasped. Suddenly, an angry look crossed his golden eye. "She was…inside your head? That is inexcusable! A disgrace, a scandal! She invaded your privacy. I wondered where she had vanished off to after she had ran away…but this?" He shook his head in remorse, his hat nearly falling off. "I never believed she would sink so low."
Vincent eyed him warily. "Correct, she was there. And yes, I told her as such. I was not very happy."
"I can imagine," Jano chuckled.
"C-Can I tell you what happened?"
"Oh?" The nightmare deity gave him a smug grin. "Do tell, I do love a good story."
"I saw them…the Twin Moons. I found myself in a room like the night, its waters like the stars. I sank down beneath them. It felt cold, yet familiar to me. And I believe my memories have returned. I know now…why I was sent to you. Why you were asked to raise me."
"And why was that, Vincent?"
There came a brief flash of understanding, of acceptance, of admiration across Vincent's face. "You have already told me, in a sense. You told me that there is a balance: that good and evil work together simultaneously, both light and darkness a part of the same coin. That without bad things, such as pain, suffering, and sadness, good things do not seem as bright anymore. That is why I was sent to you. To learn that pain…so that I could truly embody the hope I was destined to be. I…I remember, now. I remember our past together. You were never horrible, just my teacher, teaching me the mechanics of nightmares so I could truly understand. So I could feel the true power of hope. For years you taught me how to enter nightmares, how to dissect them, how they portrayed people's darkest thoughts and ideas. You strengthened my mind against their badness—taught me how to endure it. You taught me how important hope can be without ever teaching me the role of hope itself. Yet, throughout it all…we ended up becoming more than just teacher and apprentice. You became like a father to me, and I a son to you."
Jano clapped his hands together joyously. "Exactly, Vincent. Exactly. You needed me in order to learn the other half of your role, for you could never give hope to people properly if you had never known how true darkness felt. I raised you and your sister in its very core."
Emerald eyes turned to stare into the pearly flames, grimace in place. "I am guessing Vanessa succumbed to it? Is that why she is the way she is?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, Hope and Faith's plans backfired with your sister. Rather than grow stronger and more attuned to the darkness, it began to swallow her whole, until nothing was left but a shadow of her former self. Cold, unforgiving and heartless from the world's darkest crevices, she finally lost her core. For why have faith in a world so full of horrid things?"
"…I believe I see where she is coming from, though."
Jano sent a concerned glare full of meaning Vincent's way, and even though Vincent could not see its warning with his gaze facing the fire, it still brought a shiver down his spine.
"You better not be following her lead, Vincent," Jano warned. Threat, there was a threat present.
"O-Oh no! Heavens, nothing like that!" Vincent denied and shook his head furiously. "I just…understand, that is all. I may not condone her actions, but I see why she did them. Maybe, someday…I can give her hope, too."
A genuine smile lit Jano's lips. Large yet gentle hands of bone took Vincent's hands in his own once more, squeezing them gently. "Oh dearest Vincent, you remain as kind and as generous as you were in my care. Don't let that ever change. You give hope even to this nightmarish deity. However, tell me, do you remember the powers that I taught you? How to use them? You haven't mentioned them at all."
"Erm, w-well, about that," stuttered Vincent. "I, well…I cannot remember them. I can feel I have some form of power, but what it is and how to use it is blank to me. Even without the lock, without the door, without Vanessa holding me back…I feel like there is something untouched."
Startled, Jano dropped those hands, his one eye wide. "What?! So it's true. Damn it, I thought as much. This is why your task is still an 'unfinished task.'"
"P-Please, explain. What is my 'unfinished task,' exactly?"
"Just as you are the parallel force to keep Rayman grounded, he is also yours to keep you afloat," Jano explained, serious, irritated. "He is the fire to your water, the confidence to your shyness, the light to your dark, the day to your night. Once upon a time, when Vanessa blocked your memories, I realised you were going to lose yourself unless something was done. You would've never unlocked your memories on your own, or even with my help. You needed to bond with someone in your fading state: a bond to show you true happiness, to be your anchor, to reawaken your emotions that were being sucked away. Thus although your task from the Twin Moons was to go and save the Guardian…a moment of clarity struck me. You both needed to save each other! It was by bonding with Rayman that broke the lock on your memories, as you have already figured out. Rayman saves you just as much as you save him. So when I sent your memoryless self away to seek him out so long ago, I did it not only to help the Guardian as ordered to by Hope and Faith…but to also help you. Without him, you would've faded by now. You would've never unlocked your memories like you had. Overall, the bridge that links you goes both ways." He took a deep, troubled breath before finishing, "The task set on you was to save the Guardian…but, in your fading state, you got captured and fell off-track. Even now, your task remains incomplete. I could easily help the Guardian instead, for the powers taught to you are my own…but I can't. You need to do it. I know that only by attempting to use your powers will you remember how to use them. Rayman's bond with you is your unsuspecting guide to do just that."
Vincent, listening intently, fell back into his own leather sofa with shaky limbs. He stared at Jano hesitantly, keeping his attention drawn inwards. Tense silence passed between them as he watched the one-eyed deity reclaim his teacup from the table and take a sip. Nothing but the crackle of the flames beside them echoed throughout the room, only causing their tension in the atmosphere to become more tangible. It hovered unsurely over their heads, almost heavy, yet never once breaking. Only when Vincent cleared his throat, catching Jano's attention, did it shift somewhat.
Barely a whisper, he asked, "…How, Jano? How can I possibly remember how to use a power when I do not understand what that power is? It seems impossible."
"Nothing's impossible, dear Vincent," Jano assured. Replacing his teacup on the table and removing himself from his seat so that he stood in front of Vincent, he cradled a single gloved hand in both of his own. He continued in a warm voice, "Yet I can tell you this one important thing: although merely a dream or a nightmare to others, they will always be real to you. Trust my words: when the time comes, you will know what to do. You will realise what your 'unfinished task' is. Until then…I think it's time for us to separate. It's time for you to regain consciousness. I'm afraid your body is in great danger."
Emeralds widened in upmost terror. "O-Of course! Earlier you told me you were only able to reach me because I was near death! My chest—my lungs—they are fatally damaged. W-What do I do?"
"…It's not that which I speak of right now," Jano admitted with a cringe, which only unnerved Vincent more.
All of sudden, the room around them started to change. As if underwater, the living room with its two sofas, its many bookcases, its fire, its rug, became smudged out—lines blurring. Vincent opened his mouth to question it, but froze. He suddenly knew that he was being taken away. Desperation to hang on just a little longer brought tears to his eyes. No, no he could not leave yet! Unanswered questions still plagued his mind with worry, with fear, with dread. He did not wish to leave Jano just yet.
No…no wait, please!
His heart crashed into the hard depths of his stomach. Jano was fading away. Heart racing, he outstretched his spare hand for him. Pupils shrank with a gasp. His fingers, they went straight through Jano like sifting through smoke. A mouth opened to beg, to plead to wait…but nothing emerged. His voice had been stolen away. His home, the Cave of Bad Dreams and Jano's mansion, fell apart. Furniture and objects vanished with booming snaps in puffs of smoke. The world became white. A cry escaped Vincent as he abruptly began to feel an agonising, distinct pain in his chest, as well as a deathly chill upon his skin. Reality was seeping into his dreams.
Jano wait! Please come back, I need you!
Then the sofa disappeared beneath him. Only Vincent's yelp echoed in the white abyss, his body falling, falling…falling...
"I have never left you. Remember, Vincent…a nightmare is just a nightmare. You will always wake up eventually. Awaken now…and good luck to you."
