Watching as the lights started to illuminate the sky, Arthur sat outside until dark came. Nothing seemed to bother him outside, but there were always the few little things he thought he saw. Shadows of people moving around in the tree line amongst the white pickett crosses. He had looked over some of the names in passing. Each of them had their own name, nationality, and death date on them. It was...odd. There were some unmarked, but they had a different daub of paint on them. Lukas Bondevik—1945. Mathias Kohler—1945. Gilbert Beilschmidt—1944. There were some newer dates that were on the crosses, others were worn away, only the paint spots left. Arthur almost felt like he knew these people...they seemed so close sometimes that he felt he could reach out a hand and comfort those who had been...well, here.
"What goes on here...?" Arthur asked himself, looking to the house. He had no clue where everything was now. Francis probably had mixed the whole place up so that Arthur couldn't find his way around...not that he could anyways. "...This is idiotic. How the hell did I get tricked into this?"
"You're Alistair's brother. That's why." Someone said quietly, making the blond look around with fearful eyes.
"Who's there?" Arthur couldn't see anyone at first, but looking closer, there had been a ghost standing near him. Somehow...he wasn't surprised. "Oh...I'm sorry...I didn't notice you, miss..."
"I can understand if you're bad with names, sir, but I thought you'd remember me." She said lightly, tilting her head to the side. "Miss Honda, Arthur. I haven't seen you since I went out looking for you. You wound up here, of all places..."
There was no memory of a 'Miss Honda' anywhere in his mind, and he didn't think he had ever seen her face before. "Excuse me..you must have the wrong Arthur...I'm afraid I don't recall you at all, Miss Honda..." He grimaced, going back to the first thing the phantom had said. "...How do you know of Alistair?"
"It doesn't matter...I must have the wrong Arthur...the Arthur I knew is long gone...Goodbye, sir..." She was gone in a matter of moments, leaving Arthur to wonder who she was and why she knew of his name and his brother.
"She's a phantom now...she remembers your face from somewhere, but you must not be the right person for the memories."
Arthur spun around from the porch, staring at a sudden appearance of Matthew with a bloodied polar bear plush. "You're bleeding, child-" Arthur made a worser grimace, reaching up to take Matthew's hand. The smaller one brought himself back from Arthur, staring with dull eyes.
"I'm not hurt...it's not my blood. Someone was misbehaving, and mon papa tried to take care of them. A Belgian woman got in the way, and your brother got upset. He's separated them all up so that they can't get out of the cellar anymore. The Polish man is still in the basement...he doesn't have much time left."
"What are you even talking about? Who is hurt in there?" Arthur asked, becoming very worried about the people inside. "How many are in there?"
"There are five people in the house, and Papa. He stays in the attic most of the time, but that's where one of them is. I can't remember how to get to the attic. I hit my head too hard in the wardrobe. Papa found me that day you left me in there, and I bruised my head." Matthew sighed, looking dismayed at the loss of memory. "...He broke my glasses, too. The lens is cracked and it bothers me."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but...is there a way to get the people out?" Set on finding his brother, Arthur wanted to get into that house and get everyone to safety.
"Only papa knows the way out, and I don't know what that would be, either." The smaller blond rocked on his heels, looking out past Arthur to the graveyard. "...They're getting upset. They don't want you here for some reason. They're saying something about the prince returning? They don't like that at all."
"Well, I'm not a prince." Arthur huffed. "Even so, someone has to do something about this place. Maybe if one of those rings are around here, I could use that to help me get Alistair—I mean, everyone out."
"Like this?" Matthew held out the gold and topaz ring in his palm. "I found this...Papa scattered the rings as well, and I don't know where they are."
"This is the one...that ring that makes the lights." Arthur nodded, slipping it on his fingers, bringing around yellowy orbs of light. "Brilliant...this will be good..." Arthur snapped his fingers and turned the orbs dim until they were gone, turning for one of the oak trees that had an ax stuck in it. He had noticed it when he first came around, but now he decided he needed it. "...I should at least try to go and find everyone...there's a safe room somewhere...right?"
"...The study. It's the room that you first walk into from here. I know only that much. There are journals and diaries in there, and you can probably find a floor plan in there, too." Matthew replied, hugging his bear close. "...Please don't let him take your eyes, too. I don't know what will happen if he takes your eyes. You've seen what will happen...the dark ring."
Arthur recalled the first dream, seeing that sickly version of himself in the mirror. It looked ghastly...death itself made that image. "Right...that won't happen, Matthew...now stay with me. You're going to come with me and help me find the others...okay?" He nodded, waving Matthew along. "It's not safe for you to be out here on your own, so I'll keep you safe with me."
"Promise?" Matthew asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.
"Promise."
The moment they stepped foot into the house, it was a different atmosphere. Everything had turned a bit darker, and it wasn't as welcoming as it was at first. The windows had even changed, filtering in dim lights instead of the norm Arthur had seen. The study itself had dark lacquered furniture and blue stained glass windows. This place...felt safe. The doors completely shut, and there was room for at least five people. Perfect. "Now...where are those floor plans..." Arthur said quietly, poking around the drawers finding nothing special. Photographs, scribbled notes, a diary and a memo.
Memo to Self-
The handwriting was feminine. Matthew strained to see the handwriting, furrowing his brows. "That's mama's handwriting. She wrote in the cursive like that...papa didn't like it because he said she scrawled. He did the same thing, though. I don't get why he got so angry."
Take Matthew to the duck pond. He needs the outdoor air.
Make sure to bring home groceries. Francis needs to eat more.
Cat food. Bread Loaf. Cheese. Dry ale.
"I wonder why this is here...oh well...Should leave it for now..." Arthur murmured, looking through the pictures. They were Victorian style, everyone was dressed up. This was a normal picture where everyone half smiled. Francis was sitting in a chair comfortably, Matthew was on his lap, and Francis's wife stood by them, her hands resting on his shoulder. She had the most intriguing smile. In her eyes, she looked like she was faking—like she was uncomfortable for the moment, knowing the picture would look more like a lie when it developed, but her smile...her smile made the lie more real. A motherly smile that brought warmth back into everyone else. Another picture was a still of baby Matthew—it was more of a print of a picture—like someone had done it in ink instead of photography. The last picture was of Francis in his study—the study they were in right then. He didn't seem to care about who was taking the picture, but he turned just as the camera flashed, making his face blurry.
"These are so odd..." Arthur said, showing them to Matthew. "You remember these at all?"
"I remember...Mama...she didn't like the shirt I was wearing...she said it made me look like I had no neck. I was five at the time, and I didn't know they were fighting all the time. I just played in my room and went with mama to the duck pond...the ducks were nice..." He trailed off, looking at the other pictures. "The picture of papa was the night before mama left...I wish she hadn't. We wouldn't be here if she didn't leave."
Diary Entry, Monday June...xxxx
I am tired of Francis not leaving his study. He has so many bugs crawling around that I can't keep the house clean enough. I think that is why Matthew gets so sick. The dead bugs he leaves laying around sometimes rot and then the mold gets to Matthew's lungs and he can't hardly breathe. The doctor said he was allergic to it, so we have to go outside anymore to get him sunlight and clean air.
I keep finding bugs in Matthew's food as well. It only happens when Francis cooks, and I'm not standing for any more of this. I'm taking Matthew back to Oriona when the next moon phase hits, and I'm leaving Francis to his own devices. I don't want Matthew to have to deal with life here with someone who won't take care of him.
"Where's Oriona?" The name didn't seem familiar to Arthur, and Matthew looked just as confused. "Maybe it's an old country of the past...It wouldn't surprise me if it was." He sighed, leafing through some of the old books and diagrams to find the floor plan they needed. "Aha, there it is..." He grinned widely, looking over the patterns. "So we're in the study here..." He pointed, grabbing a blue fountain pen and outlined the study. "And then there's a hallway there..." Looking over the floor plans, there was a lot of places that the people could be. He picked up a different pen, folding up the plans so that he could mark down where he found everyone. "So there's a hall up here...we should look in the kitchen for anyone, and then we'll bring everyone to the study so they're safe...alright?"
"It sounds okay to me...We should check the living room and the formal living room...then go near the front porch to the dining room...I wouldn't go upstairs yet." Matthew said, poking at the map to show him. "...There's a bedroom and a couple garages where they could be...and the kitchen. I've seen your brother in the kitchen for everyone else. He likes to take care of people, I guess."
"Where's the basement, though?"
"It's under the guest bedroom...I think that's what the map said. There's a service hall near the study."
"Well...We'll start looking around after a bit...I'm still wanting to look into the history of the place." Arthur replied, rifling through the endless pages of journals, notebooks and articles. "But one thing's true...We're going to look in the basement first."
Emma sat on a stool in an unfamiliar room, leaning over a bed she had never seen before. There was a life-like doll laying in the bed, seemingly 'sleeping'. She couldn't move. Not a bone or muscle could even twitch—Her back was getting sore. She just sat there, unmoving. "...You would make a lovely mother...I can't find my child, so this one will have to do." Emma could feel her stomach rise into her chest, eyes tempted to move. The voice was familiar—it was the man to bashed her head. Even though it was fuzzy, she remembered the face that matched the voice. The sound of footfalls on the ground came closer, then a creaking sound came from the bed. "You are very beautiful...I'm surprised I had never seen you before...I would have taken you up instead of..." He trailed off, gently grabbing Emma's chin to look at him. Her eyes were afraid. There were three beady black eyes around Francis's deep blue orbs, and he looked ghastly pale—nothing like he did in all the portraits around the house. "What...? You are afraid of me, aren't you?" He cooed, smiling widely. He had a pair of fangs in his mouth, and a vile smell of poison came from his mouth. "...You shouldn't be, though...I could take care of you easily."
"P-Please...Let...G-Go..." Emma sputtered, trying her best to pull away, but her body wouldn't obey. This only made Francis smile, letting Emma return to her previous position.
"I should have turned you into a kitten or something to entertain Matthew...or maybe that red-haired troublemaker...he would make a nice little pet..." He smirked, watching as the Belgian's body quivered and small tears fell from her eyes. "Look at you...getting so worked up about something so small...He's so feisty, he wouldn't be able to keep that shape for long...he ripped out his own eye for that brother of his...I'm more interested in the brother if anything...if there's one Kirkland...there's bound to be more in this universe."
Notebook: How the Rings Work
[The Name has been scratched out in black Ink—It's impossible to see who or what wrote this]
Every human can be manipulated to leave a gem behind after death. Depending on the emotion at hand, and how one manipulates the emotion, it depends on what one gets after poaching the soul.
Eye color and emotion are key factors when it comes to obtaining gems, and the base of the ring is also a key amplifier with these. Some gems can be synthesized together at the time of gem-holder's death to make a multi-colored gem. [See the notes about gems and powers].
Gem Powers
Ruby: Fire powers. Not good for light, but good for igniting objects.
Amber: Super Strength. Anything is light as air. Limited time for use.
Yellow Topaz: Light magic. Good for light, and good for startling enemies.
Emerald: [Unknown]
Sapphire: User obtains gills. Water is easily tolerated, and ice is nothing. General water affinity.
Aquamarine: Invisibility. Used for sneaking around.
Pearl: More of a trap than a useful gem. Synthesized Gem-Albino [Pink] and Pale-Eyed man [Pale Blue] User feels more lust-filled and craves sexual attention or lesser feelings.
Amethyst: Matthew's brand of magic. Nobody knows what it is because it is his, and he won't let them have it.
Obsidian: Fortune-telling stone. Allows people to see their possible or alternate selves if a mirror is nearby.