Cupio is Latin for, "to desire, wish, long for".

Chapter Five: Cupio

Some men dream dreams of fancy. Some men dream the stuff of nightmares. Some dream in color. Some dream in only black and white. They say that dreams are the true wishes of the heart. He does not think he has heard anything that sounded less like rubbish than that. That he would wish for all this to have really happened would make him beyond morbid to the extreme. More so than he already believed he was. He cannot think of anything we could have wished for less, than what has happened since he woke up from that vision. Dreams, he thinks, can mean anything and nothing when you dream them in slumber. The dangerous ones are those that one has when we are not asleep, but fully awake. The daydreams that one's mind conjures up during the waking hours. The very ones that he does not allow himself to have, but sometimes creep up on him nonetheless. Those are the ones that he thinks have more merit. For they are the ones your conscious mind concocts. Which makes him wonder what the Black Reaper dreams. What his wishes are. Like those wishes that he warned him not to have while in the Dome. He will not think about why it was that it was Stella's voice that called to him in that dark place either. He will only allow himself to wonder if he refused to think of someone too. If he was anything like him, he probably did have someone he thought of even when he tried desperately not to.

He has been called cold. He has been called conceited. Sometimes he is spoiled and sometimes he is merely aloof. People saw a stoic face and figured he was all those things. That his skin must be too thick to penetrate and he was too arrogant for his own good. All because they saw a face devoid of feeling. He had to be devoid because he had none, they reasoned. He knows this because he has heard them. Which is another thing that he finds ridiculous. They could not know how much it cost him to appear so unaffected. How much it cost him to keep his face so blank when all he wanted to do was react. From experience, he can say that it is the one that has such a face that feels the most. They are the ones that have the most to lose. Because it means that they did not have the freedom to show it.

He wore a mask every day. Whenever he stepped out of his door, he made sure that it was securely in place. A mask that no one but his friends could see behind. A blank mask that hide just how vulnerable he truly was. It was a shield to hide the wealth and depth of feelings that he could not afford to express. It is not always hard to do it and it is sometimes easier to do. Which brings his thoughts back to the Black Reaper. The mask is just like his, only an actual, physical thing to hide what he knew must be a deeply emotional man. He cannot fault him for wearing one. It added to just how many ways they were alike and he finds he wants to know more about this man. This man that seems to have decided to keep watch over him.

That night, when he had finally been confronted with him in the Dome, Tenebrae tried to destroy theirs. He does not know exactly what happened that night. The people involved had all perished in the resulting explosion that decimated the entire city. Though there were no visible signs of the Dome, life close to the limits of that once beautiful city was impossible. What is left is a hole as big as the one in his heart where it should have been. A gaping void where something vibrant had once taken residence. One that could never be filled now that she was gone. When he was told of this news the following day, it had taken all of his training to keep the mask in place. Tenebrae was gone. It's citizens gone with it. She was gone with it. There were no survivors accounted for. A millions faces that vanished and everything to remember them too, gone in an instant and all he could see was hers. He thought of how he had doomed her. The regret and guilt that struck his chest and squeezed the breath from his lungs is a pain he relives every time he thinks about it. A wound that he knows will never heal. That night, a part of him that no one had ever had access to before, died and it took all that he had to keep stepping forward with his mask in place.

That night was a month ago now. The strangeness has not abated, but as it always does, time does not wait. More murders were taking place. Just yesterday, another key member of the council was found murdered while eating his dinner. How the assailant managed to get inside his well fortified home was as mysterious as the cause of his death. Every bone in his body was crushed, with no logical explanation of how they could have gotten to be that way. At first they had wondered if the body was merely placed where it was found, but that was quickly tossed out when the whereabouts of each of the surviving councilmen was diligently monitored and followed. There was no way to explain how the remains looked like a rubber body suit instead of the solid body of a man.

It was not just the murders that were strange either. Things were happening around the city that could not be explained either. He has heard whispers of people who had changed. Not physically changed, but somehow altered from what they had been. For the last couple of weeks, he has also felt eyes around him too. Eyes that followed him and watching him closely. A different sort of eyes that he felt he could not hide from no matter where he was. At first he had thought that it was the Black Reaper, but he had never actually felt the other man's eyes upon him like a physical present before. This was different. His eyes saw what his brain could not fathom and he decided he needed help.

"Okay, so why are we here?" asks Pro breathing the cold air so deeply that his breathes were like clouds escaping his lips.

"To prove whether I am crazy or not," is his simple answer.

"Aaww, Noct," says Pro with one of his coy grins. "We already know you're crazy."

"Fair enough," he concedes with a chuckle. "This is a new degree of insanity."

"Right, so what are we looking for?" asks Ignis, ever the one to get to the point.

"A new level of crazy," mutters Glad, rubbing his chin. "That might be fun."

"It's not as if we haven't been hearing some crazy stuff already these days," reasons Pro. "How long are we waiting for results? And did we have to meet in this dingy lookin' place?"

"Stop being a princess," retorts Glad with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey, I am all for secret meetings but could we.. what the fiery Etro is that?!" cries Pro, swinging his rifle around to shoot.

"So I am not the only one insane here," he says with another chuckle, walking cautiously towards the ghostly, green silhouette hovering by a broken pane of glass near the far wall.

The ghostly presence seems to stare at them a moment before it winked out of sight without a trace.

"Fascinating," murmurs Ignis, who has his phone's camera pointed at where the ghost had been. "It doesn't come out in pictures."

"Huh? Now what does that mean?"

"What is that thing, Noct?" asks Ignis.

"I have not the faintest idea," he answers. "I was more concerned about whether or not I was really losing my mind by imagining that it has been following me around lately."

"It follows you?" asks Pro scandalously. "Like what, a dog?"

"I feel it peer at me on occasion," he explains. "It feels almost constant now."

"So you really did think you were going crazy," observes Glad.

"Would not have been a surprise," he shrugs. "I have tried to check surveillance and come up empty so that was the logical conclusion."

"Do you think the Black Reaper is behind it?" asks Glad.

"That would mean I had a doll," states a deep, low voice from behind them.

His three friends instantly unsheathe their weapons as they whirl around to face the dark man, but he remains unarmed when he slowly turns around.

"Will I finally get answers now?" he asks.

"What's a doll?" asks Ignis, curious despite his wariness.

"They are the ones who control the observer spirits, as you just saw." Though his eyes are hidden by the blank mask, he can sense that those dark eyes are looking at each of them closely. "The four of you did see it, right?"

"Yeah…" answers Pro carefully.

"Got a name?" asks Glad.

"Odd," the Black Reaper murmurs to himself.

"What are you talking about?"

"Those that can see the Observer Spirits are Contractors and Contractors do not have emotions," those painted eyes stare at the almost comical expression on Pro's face before he continues. "Which you seem to have an abundance of."

"How do you know so much?" he asks.

"My world experienced the same thing. Two gates appeared at opposite ends of the world. We called them Heaven's Gate and Hell's Gate." He pauses to think of his next words. "Though there are elements here that have obviously changed how they work."

"What do you mean by elements?" asks Ignis.

"You have magic here," is the reply. "Crystals and powers that are not unlike Contractors."

"Um, not sure I get it," states Pro.

"You will. You'll have to and you're out of time to try and figure it out."

"Is that why you're here? Are you here to destroy the Dome?"

"You don't want to destroy the… Dome."

"It's a threat. It needs to be destroyed."

"That would make your Crystal a similar threat, but I don't see you trying to destroy that."

"So you're saying that the Dome is a point of power?" asks Ignis.

Silence meets his question in answer.

"For whom?" he asks.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

He supposes he suspected, but never would he have imagined it to be real.

"Are you behind the murders?" asks Glad straight out.

"No," is the immediate reply. "I was chasing the one I thought was behind it but I lost him when that thing appeared."

"You mean the Behemoth," says Ignis.

"If that's what you call that monster."

"What kinds of abilities can they have?"

"Anything you can think of."

"So this is why the murders all don't make sense," ponders Ignis. "It means that not all Contractors possess the same ability."

"Yes."

"You mentioned seeing these Observer Spirits only if one were Contractors. Does that mean that not everyone is a Contractor?"

"Not everyone is chosen, but those who are, are cursed with it. Just like those who can see the Light also have them."

"You said there was a difference," he reminds him.

"Contractors all have a price they must pay for using their powers. You here who use the Crystal do not seem to have that."

They did pay a price, but it was not what he implies.

"What sort of price?"

"Depends on the individual. Everyone pays a unique price."

"Because gifts and wishes do not come for free," he says, with no small amount of disdain. He looks up to see that emotionless mask peering at him carefully… almost knowingly. "You know that from experience, don't you. You made a wish and you are now paying a price."

"Aren't we all?"

"So what do you want us to do?" asks Ignis. "What have you been waiting for?"

"I haven't found it yet."

"That means that you don't know what it is," Pro points out.

"You did something to make all this happen," is the reply. "Just like I had a hand in it too."

"Wah?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you did," answers the Black Reaper.

"Are you sure it wasn't your presence?"

"I am here because the gates came here. They brought me here and I think they're here because of you." He points at him.

"So this is my fault."

"And mine."

"Wait, how can it be Noct's fault? It's not like someone can summon something as power as the Domes," argues Ignis.

"Are you sure about that?"

"It's not any summons that I have ever known…"

"If the Domes came for me, why is nothing happening to me?" he interrupts Ignis.

The mask tilts to the side to look at him. "I think it has. I think you just haven't noticed it yet. Or maybe… you don't want to notice."

"Noct, there's been another murder," Ignis cuts in while pressing his earpiece closer to his ear.

"So I guess that's proof that you're really not the killer," states Pro.

"I have no reason to lie."

"I have more questions," he states as he motions the others to get back into their car.

"I don't have all your answers. But I think you know more than you're telling."

"I could say the same to you," he retorts. "Does this mean that you will help us?"

"As much as I can."

"Then, I suppose you should come with us."

"Too late for that. Whoever is behind this has already gone. Though you have to consider that it's in your best interests that they succeed."

"I have."

"It explains why you have not been targeted."

He nods his agreement and moves to turn away.

"You can't have both."

"What?" he stops to peer behind his shoulder.

"The things you desire cannot both be attained. You have to drop one."

"I already did."

"If you did, you wouldn't be so conflicted."

"It is a moot point."

"Is it?"

"She's dead," he says flatly. A note of finality in his tone before he walks away.