Long before Taranza was brought to meet the queen...

Two stories began and intertwined...

-

"Look! There it is!"

Hey, it's the demon kid!"

A group of children paused on their way to school having spotted the new kid trying to blend into the crowd. The other child froze upon hearing his nickname before trying to make a run for it. He was intercepted by the two Waddle Dees and their Bronto Burt leader. They stared down the foreigner, who sniffled and looked down at the ground. He knew that it was easier to submit than to fight back when outnumbered.

"Hey! We're talking to you! Are you deaf now, demon kid? Answer when I'm talking to you! Nova knows that no one else would ever want to," The leader asked while pushing him back with his foot.

"I-I just w-wanna go to class... please."

After being pestered and picked on for a few more minutes, he was finally spared and allowed to pass. He fell in line with other students entering their first class, but several made an effort to stay away from him. Bullies were not the only ones who disliked his appearance. None of the other kids would play with him. Even teachers avoided having to look at him directly. He understood why, though. "Demon kid" was not entirely inaccurate. Other than soft purple skin and big eyes, the child's appearance was straight out of dark folklore. Horns on his head, split hooves, and dangerously sharp teeth. No other creatures on the whole of Popstar looked like him.

Marx was different, and not just by face value.

Marx was one of few that favored intellectual pursuits. Most creatures on Popstar valued magic powers and physical strength, but Marx knew that real power was all in the mind. Studying filled the voids in his life. He practically lived in the local library until they told him to go home. His parents supported his habits, always getting him new books and puzzles to play with when they had money to spare. Marx figured that they were trying to be the best parents they could, given that his biological family was never found. The two Poppy Bros found him wandering in the desert, sick but determined. He was fond of them, of course, but he always felt driven to be elsewhere. Memorizing paths in the forest, wandering around the village, or allowing himself to be lost in his thoughts. Marx was a dreamer, a thinker, and most definitely an adventurer.

He faced each day with resolve. He knew that one day, everything would be different. He would get stronger, smarter, and better at everything he did. Marx just had to wait, that was all. There was nothing wrong with that.

There is nothing wrong with waiting.

After a seemingly endless day, Marx quickly made his way home (running fast was a good advantage to have). Their home in the wilderness of Popstar was safely hidden away by the trees. Many creatures called the forest home for this very purpose. He scuttled along a well-worn path that lead to their house. It was a decent house, handmade and not completely straight, but it had that cozy feel that made any who entered drowsy and at ease. A rag was tied to the doorknob so that Marx could pull it open with ease using his teeth. He let himself in, noting that no one was home yet, and wandered over to the kitchen for a snack.

Marx finished off an apple and completed two puzzles before he started to worry. It never took them this long to get home. Even if they were out getting food or something of that nature, it never lasted so long into the afternoon. He double checked the house for a note and found none. The child became anxious and could stay in the empty house no more. He dared to venture out and look around. He knew how to defend himself well enough to take care of small threats.

All of his senses were on high alert; he listened to every movement in the forest, made note of every scent and speck of light or shadow, and paid attention to the feel of the dirt under his feet. Marx stayed low on the path, causing flowers and grasses to occasionally brush his cheeks. He saw no sign of his parents. In fact, he did not spot anyone. It was as if everyone had vanished. His blood ran cold as he realized what that meant. There must be a predator nearby. As quietly as possible, Marx huddled up in the nearest bush, and waited for any sort of signal that the coast was clear. He spent almost an hour curled up in his spot, and the sun had almost completed its descent. Orange light bathed the forest, and ominous shadows stretched out beside the trees.

Marx had just begun to creep out of his hiding spot when he felt vibrations in the dirt. He hid himself again as heavy footsteps could be heard as much as felt. Through the leaves of the bushes, about three meters away, a large Bugzzy was stomping through the forest, grunting and glaring at the underbrush in search of prey. The beast was clearly agitated, as were many other creatures these days. It started sometime a few weeks ago when rumors of something coming from the sky began to spread. His parents did not mention it around him, but it clearly worried them as well. Everyone had their guard up. It was a "shoot first, ask questions later" type of deal.

The Bugzzy scanned the area once more, looking more in Marx's direction. The child held his breath, praying to the stars that he was hidden well enough. The wings of the creature shuddered as it started towards him. Marx did not wait to see if it had actually seen him. He bolted from the bush and ran as fast as he could. The Bugzzy roared and gave chase, expecting easy prey. Marx dodged trees and branches, running at top speed. He could outrun a Bugzzy, sure, but he did not know for how long. The child jumped across some stepping stones within a stream and began moving in more unpredictable patterns on the other side, hoping to confuse the beast and give himself a few more precious seconds to escape. If he could just get out of the forest territories, it might give up on him.

Marx zipped past the guardian, Whispy Woods, and headed towards the part of the forest that lead to the islands. The beast was still after him, though it now had the attention of the guardian. The great tree shook, raining fruit and projectiles on the Bugzzy. Whispy's roots rose from the ground, trying to grab whomever dared to unsettle the forest. The beast had clearly taken more than its fair share of food, and now it would be punished.

It was then that Marx made a u-turn and head back into the forest. With the predator distracted, he may be able to find his parents. He gave Whispy a wide berth and began searching everywhere he could. Marx found nothing. He tried not to think about what he knew probably happened to them. It was well into the night when Marx collapsed from exhaustion on his doorstep, tears now streaming from his eyes. The cries of insects and birds had returned to the forest, mingled with his owned stifled sobs.

A new cry joined his own at one point, somewhere far away. A feminine voice. He caught the words "please open," but the rest was too hard to make out. Marx was too tired to think about it much. That day he learned true suffering. Getting bullied was one thing, but it was not the same as losing an entire family twice. The emotions were overwhelming. They manifested as a physical ache in his chest that made him want to cry his grief to the stars above or simply stop existing.

The next day, he left. Marx began his journey across every corner of Popstar. His thirst for knowledge was the only thing he had left. He grew up on the roads, taking odd jobs and studying everything he could get. He started disguising himself to avoid attention and practiced a dozen different backstories to tell to anyone who asked. However, he grew hardened. He made no friends. Did not even try. He saw the world as a beast; everything in it was cold and cruel. After many years, when he was stronger, he returned to the forest. To further conquer his fear, he build a new house there. His fear of the world was temporarily sated. Marx continued to trust no one.

Until a certain Halcandran wandered in. It was the damn near funniest thing Marx had seen in a long time. Anyone that dumb and determined was interesting enough to Marx. So he took a shot in the dark and talked to him. For once, he listened in return. For once, the world was not so cold.

-
Elsewhere...

Popstar was a strange place to her, so different from Halcandra. Scoria tried her best to like it, though, given that there was nowhere else to go. The Lor Starcutter had parked itself in an open grassland and had not budged since they landed. Scoria did not doubt the Lor's intelligence and sentience, but it worried her in times like this. It never disobeyed on Halcandra. Perhaps it was also heartbroken by the loss of their home world. They left everything and everyone behind. Scoria parted with her husband to find a safe place for their child, their precious toddler, Magolor.

The Halcandran put the worrisome thoughts aside and finished gathering food for storage. She brushed some dirt off of her sky blue cloak and headed back in the direction of the Lor. They had plenty of food left from Halcandra, but Scoria felt better knowing that they would not run out if they had to stay in the ship for an extended period. The creatures of Popstar were quite aggressive at times, and their people were not the fighting type. They were craftsmen, innovators, musicians, and artists. They could not build things quite as advanced as the ancient Lor Starcutter, but they were far from unintelligent.

As Scoria approached the blue ship, the door opened to let her in. The screen on the main computer lit up, and text began to appear.

WELCOME BACK, SCORIA. MAGOLOR IS CURRENTLY PLAYING. IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU?

"Hello, Lor," she replied with a tired smile. "I just picked up some extra food. It needs to be stored. Can you watch Magolor for just a moment more?"

OF COURSE... I WILL DO AS YOU WISH.

Scoria quickly put everything away where it needed to be and rushed into the nursery to see her son. Magolor had been amusing himself with a ring of keys and gear shapes but quickly dropped them when he heard his mother approached. He squeaked with joy and made grabbing motions with his hands until she picked him up and cuddled with him. Both began to purr.

"Oh, you're growing up so fast... I wish your father could see you now." She continued to pet him and kissed his forehead. "When Halcandra is free again, he will join us, and we'll all go home together. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

Magolor shrieked in response. "Daddy's come home!"

A screen activated on the nursery wall, and the Lor addressed Scoria. WHY IS IT NECESSARY TO RETURN TO HALCANDRA?

The Halcandran frowned. "I'm not sure I understand. Halcandra is our home. As soon as the threat is gone, we can go back."

This was not the first time the Lor Starcutter said strange things. In fact, it questioned their intentions rather often. Scoria was under the impression that the Lor disliked her. It flawlessly obeyed everyone but her. Then again, she was not intended to be the pilot. Her husband had been the one to awaken the ship. He had fully intended to join them until all the soldiers started dying. No one was left to fight, so he stayed behind to defend what was left of their world and try to free it. The Lor was not pleased. She hid her nervousness about depending on the ship to help care for Magolor. She doubted it would harm him in any way, but the Lor was hard to predict. Whenever she spoke to it, she did so in the calmest and most careful way possible.

HALCANDRA IS GONE NOW. THERE IS NO POINT IN RETURNING. THIS PLANET IS SPACIOUS AND FULL OF LIFE.

"I see what you mean, but Halcandra is not gone yet. It will take time to win in back, but it will be ours again. I'm sure of it. Besides, we should not intrude on this planet longer than necessary. It's a miracle we haven't been given any grief yet. Let's rest for now, Lor. Wouldn't you like to relax? You do so much, after all."

I DO NOT TAKE YOUR ORDERS, SCORIA. DO NOT TRY TO MANIPULATE ME.

The screen shut off as the Lor disconnected from the room. As an added act of scorn, it also turned off the lights, startling the child and forcing Scoria to feel along the walls for a switch. She made no other comments to the ship. It would not make a difference anyway. The Lor was in charge here, and the two Halcandrans were powerless. They could only wait for help to come.

It was torturous to wait.

Scoria spent the rest of the day playing with Magolor and teaching him words and phrases. The evening was uneventful, much to her relief. Her son fussed a bit when he did not want to go to sleep, but a lullaby and exhaustion eventually won out. Scoria showered and flopped right into bed, equally worn out.

Her deep, dreamless sleep was interrupted when a screen activated at her bedside.

GET UP.

Her thoughts were still slow as she yawned, "Hm? Why?"

YOU MUST HURRY AND LOOK OUTSIDE. THERE IS DANGER.

She almost jumped out of bed as she sat up. Without much more thought, Scoria left her room and headed to the entrance. As she neared, the door opened for her. She stood just outside the doorway, peering out into the darkness.

"I don't see anything, Lor. What's going on?"

Without warning, the door slammed shut behind her. She turned, a feeling of horror sinking in her gut.

IT SEEMS THAT I MADE AN ERROR. I WILL CORRECT IT.

"L-Lor, let me back inside."

I WILL NOT.

She started desperately pushing on the cold metal barrier. "Please, you can't do this! I know you don't like me. Please! Oh, my baby..."

I HAVE SEEN THE FUTURE. I HAVE SEEN WHAT IS TO BE, AND I WILL NOT ALLOW IT. IF WE STAY HERE, ALL IS WELL.

"Make sense, Lor! Please, let me in! Open the door!"

I HAVE SEEN WHAT MAY BE MAGOLOR IN THE FUTURE. IF HE LEAVES THIS PLANET, HE WILL CAUSE SUFFERING, AND HE WILL DIE.

Scoria tried and failed to process the information. Words choked her as she sobbed, "I-I don't understand! Let me back in! Open, please! Spare him! Don't hurt my baby!"

The screen on the outside of the ship deactivated, ignoring her. The Halcandran's words devolved into feline caterwauling, wails of anguish and despair, a mother separated from her child.

The Lor Starcutter waited her out. Her pitiful cries meant nothing to it. It did not take long for predators to hear and find her. Good riddance, it thought. Meanwhile, it followed the orders its intended pilot asked it to do: keep Magolor alive. The child was unhappy at first. He wanted a mother's warmth and comfort and was too young to read everything the Lor said. Magolor would cry for hours on end for one reason or another. The ship did not put up with this for long. Magolor learned soon to never cry for attention. Crying meant that the kitchen and playroom would be locked.

The Lor raised him in the manner: obey absolutely or be punished absolutely. It was easy enough until the those pesky teenage years started. Though Magolor was still obedient, he would question everything. Where was his family? Where did he come from? Why could he not spend more time outside? He learned cunning soon enough, too. Twisting his words around to try to get more information from the Lor. The ship decided that it was Scoria's genes that caused this bothersome behavior. He just had to be more like his mother than his father. All the more reason to keep him locked away.

It just could not last, though. And the Lor could not explain to him what it saw as it ripped through dimensions: a vision of a being with no mercy or pity, crowned and thoroughly terrible. It thought that imprisoning Magolor would prevent this possible future... but seeing him grow more unhappy and desperate with each day... the Lor decided that it would make no difference. It was doomed to fail. The pilot had never come, and it could not control Magolor as completely as it wanted to. So, it left him.

If the universe was meant to crash and burn, let it.

He's someone else's problem now.

-
Magolor was making good progress. Granted, he had gotten lost after about ten minutes, but he was still alive. His fiery burst of motivation had died out, leaving him regretful of his rash actions. What was I thinking? Going off by myself with dangerous creatures running around was so stupid! Why did I think that would work? He put his thoughts aside for the moment, decided to focus on the task at hand. He was in the thickest part of the forest now, trees blotting out every hint of sky. Not even a tiny breeze could get through. If Magolor recalled correctly, there should be a boss around here somewhere to give him directions. He needed to get out of here and back to his friends. Taranza was probably worried, and Marx would no doubt give him an earful about his stupidity.

Meanwhile, his search had yielded little at first. There were no more muddy footprints to follow, though he occasionally spotted the marks of a metal boot. Unfortunately, they lead nowhere. He followed every hint he could find, but all he found was dead ends. Gee, what were they doing? Running around in circles? No, were they looking for something? That other creature? Magolor stayed on high alert as he continued. Both suspects had been in the area, and they could still be lurking about.

This area of the forest was unnaturally devoid of animals. He had not encountered a single enemy. Magolor supposed that the suspects scared them off, but he had a bad feeling in his gut that something was wrong.

*SNAP!

A high pitched squeak rang through the trees. Magolor instinctively hunched down and scanned the area for the source of the noise. Pitiful cries soon followed, the cries of someone in agony. Realizing that someone was hurt, Magolor hurried to the source of the sound. He strayed from the path, pushing through dense bushes and saplings, and eventually arrived at a small clearing. In the center, a tiny green creature with big ears and a pale face had its stubby tail caught in some sort of trap. The metal teeth had snapped shut on the poor creature. The fallen leaves and branches nearby suggested that the cruel trap was covered and hidden previously. Who would do something like this? The ratlike creature continued to cry as Magolor approached it, shaken but trying not to panic.

"O-oh my gosh! What is this? Never mind. H-hold still. Maybe I can do something!"

Thankfully, it showed no aggression towards him as he inspected the trap. He did not see any buttons or switches on it. Magolor decided to take a shot in the dark and try to pry it open. He firmly gripped each jaw and pulled them apart with all his might. It was surprisingly difficult to make even the smallest opening, but he could not just leave the poor thing like that. After his first try failed, he once more tried to open the jaws of the trap. Come on! Come on! Move already! Now would be a really good time to have some magic! Magolor poured as much effort into it as he could. He did not want to watch something die. He could not bare it. Through this surge of emotion, the crowned glowed for a second. The jaws of the trap unfolded instantly, dropping the creature to the ground. Magolor dropped the trap, processing what just happened. Did... Did I do it? Did I use magic? I think I did!

Feeling hopeful, Magolor reached into his bag and pulled out some bandages. He carefully tied them over the creatures wounds. I wonder if I have healing magic? He was about to try it when the rat jumped out of his arms suddenly and bolted into the forest. A "thank you" would have been nice, but that's fine. At least I helped someone. I should have asked it if anyone had been seen around here.

Magolor continued on his way, deciding to put the event aside for now. He found his way back to the forest path and returned to the task of looking for clues.

*SNAP!

Rustling branches followed the sound.

"Again? Oh no... Don't let it be that poor little guy."

Knowing he could not ignore it, Magolor followed the sound of the trap once again. It was on the other side of the path this time and a bit father away than the last one. He quickly made his way through the vegetation only to halt abruptly when he found the trap. It was definitely notthe rat again.

This creature was slightly bigger than himself, a magenta puffball clad in armor of steel. White wings stained red were spread out on the ground, one of which was caught in the trap. A strange weapon that looked like a wedge-shaped sword lay nearby. Magolor slowly approached, unsure what to do this time. This was clearly a knight. Even if they were all on the same side now, that did not mean that they were all friendly. He hovered in front of them, noting that they were battered but still breathing. The knight also looked starved, a few ribs visible on their round body. The sight was terrible.

Magolor sighed, paused for a moment, and carefully picked up the trap and began the process of opening it.