Part Four

The Search for Answers

April 17th, Noah's Retreat, 2:30 PM

Allen woke up feeling nauseous, and an entire skeleton's worth of body aches. He begged off od the fishing trip Tyki had planned (despite the insane weather a mere thirty minutes previous). They left him alone to rest, but Allen, fearing the impending bed rest that was becoming imminent, did not remain totally idle. He read through the notes of Neah, hoping to at least understand what strain of madness the Walker brothers had shared, as it looked like his weird relatives were unlikely to be murderers. Allen read through the notes he had managed to decipher by hand like it was a novel—he hadn't really been able to pay attention to what was being written while he translated it.

What my father, Adam, gave as a moder translation of Old Noah's account does not match our own translated copy. This is quite a travesty, as Noah's words and imagery are very beautiful and poetic, and all of that has been cut out of the Americanized version. I understand why my father did this, as he was less of a "civilized man" and more of "savage" in his viewpoints. But Old Noah's original words read like The Metamorphoses. It is quite a shame. I do not think my own generation is ready for such spiritual views, but perhaps one day the original version will be shared.

I admit that, at times, the content is dark and the way he writes is both compelling and seductive. The entire Church would be in an uproar with the number of conversions from Christianity to what they would call Paganism.

Allen almost found himself elated at finally discovering family secrets. Here was proof that the Noah family was indeed duplicitous! Only it seemed what was a lie was merely edited for the time period, which would have been sometime in the early 1900s, if Allen remembered correctly. Allen really couldn't blame his relatives for hiding any associate with what was probably Wiccan beliefs during that time period.

Marion, despite his lies, is a curious soul in search of knowledge. He came to Arkham for the Arcane Arts, of all things. I warned him that Arkham's history during the witch hunts is only famed for the attacks on the natives, who no longer live with us, but he insists this is where his research has brought him. Specifically, he believes that my family has ties to the natives and their occult-ways. I, knowing my real history, cannot argue against this even if I know that magic does not truly exist. Still, Mana enjoys his company, and I simply must endure his nagging. One day, I may actually cave and show him the true Book of Noah. For now, I will only make note of the differences between what my father shared, and what our copy says. Perhaps that will suffice.

It was strange to read about events that, logically, he knew must have happened. Cross hadn't been a relative, but both Mana and Neah had to have met the man somehow in order to entrust him with Allen's care. Allen was a little shocked to see that his guardian had been interested in "arcane arts" of all things. The man was many things: a scoundrel, a womanizer, a gambler, etc. But Allen would never have called him…an occultist. A cultist? Arcanist? Still, this was interesting, and he really had nothing better to do. Allen doubted he would find any answers in these notes, let alone some old family book, but whatever. He turned the page, where he had made translations of Uncle Neah's bullet points.

Noah viewed himself as an outcast amongst the colonists. He had no surname, no credentials, and no religion. We suspect he was an indentured servant searching for opportunity, or fleeing the law.

Noah's encounter with his woman led to his conversion to their ways, becoming a devout follower.

Noah's isolation from the others and the woman's love protected him from the Sea God's curse upon intruders.

Noah became as integrated as any other native, adopting the language, values, dress, and religion. He foresaw future colonies coming in a dream and taught his children English, English ways, and Christianity. This is why we, to this day, are considered Christian, but practice our own unique religion. And it's private.

Allen was a little disappointed by the lack of new information. It was all things he had suspected himself, and irritatingly vague. Considering the last sentence of the last bullet point, that had been Uncle Neah's intention. He had not wanted to share his religion with a stranger. But it further explained why Adam had not included that in his version of the Book of Noah; it proved that Old Noah had be unAmerican, been a willing participant of savage ways, whatever they would have called it in those days.

Marion found these points vaguely disappointing. He questioned us—Mana and myself—on the religion we have practiced since birth. He even asked about our family dynamics; how are ones isolated on such a small island raised? I answered him this because I see no harm in it. We are raised thusly: requirements of school indoctrinates us more in religions of history and science than our own home. At thirteen, we decide whether or not we wish to pursue religion at all. Most of our family do choose to follow a religion, our unique religion, but Mana and I chose not to. We are not knowledgeable in religion, only in that we fear not the sea because it is the only home we know. All of our "religion" we know is that we come from the sea, and when the end of the world is nigh, it is the sea that shall end the world. We hardly believe it, except for acknowledging the very real existence of floods and rising sea levels.

Marion was irritated by this. I find it amusing. I will tell him the stories my father shared with us at bedtimes. Not religion, just tales. I suspect they may have some place in my family's religion, but it is only a suspicion.

When the world was young, a god came to it, joining himself with the sea and creating life so that he could never be hungry, never be bored, and never be lonely. In return for the gifts life alleviated for him, he protected his worshippers from famine and natural disasters; even plagues did not claim them. The small sea creatures evolved, until one day they were people that could walk, talk, and breathe air rather than water. They moved to the land, and men began to take wives and women began to take husbands so that hose of the land mingled with those of the sea. It was beyond what he had planned, but as the world changed and became more complex, more populous, the Sea God felt lonelier than before.

He had his kingdom below the sea, and the world of mortals on land, but there was no companion by his side, no one to keep him eternal company throughout the eons that stretched before him. The Sea God made a pact with his people, and the land-folk that lived on the edge of the sea strand. The men would carry his seed, the wives of these men would carry his offspring. With this connection to his essence and their worship, his descendants would have eternal life—in return, he asked that propagate as a new species. He said this gift of eternity would one day return to him when one line would culminate his essence into a single being capable of being his equal.

This equal would be born of three parents; born of two parents; born of one parent. When this equal was grown, the Sea God would have his bride. His gift upon the maturity of his bride would be to raze the entire world, so that they could start a new kingdom together. The irreverent would perish, and the faithful eternal would be there to impose his will on the New World.

I always thought of it as a romantic story. As ana adult, it is still romantic, but is a dark tale. I do not know what Marion thinks this has to do with the arcane arts, as he calls them. I do know of one thing, the only thing, that might lend credit to his declaration that Old Noah was an early occultist. Old Noah's Book of Pillars. They are a supposed collection of prophecies he dreamt up through his life. Mere myths to modern people. But From what I know, it was a prophecy that people would return to Arkham that led him to teaching his children to be Englishmen so they would be accepted; they did this for generations. So I wonder what else he prophesized, and had his descendants to carry down. Were there any rituals? Did he foresee the war of science versus religion? Is that why my family took such an approach? I do not know. Aunt Lulubell is the only one in our age group to decide to follow the religion. I've tried to ask her. She said it wasn't her place to tell me.

Allen set aside the notes with a huff. This was all interesting stuff, but it was hardly useful. Allen felt like he learned more about Mana and Neah's upbringing than before, but it was far too late. They were both dead. Admittedly, there was something in the bedtime story Uncle Neah wrote down that seemed familiar. He had never heard the story itself, but some part of it was niggling at the back of his mind…but try as he might, the boy could not summon up any revelations. He did find it odd that Uncle Neah, and Mana, had no knowledge of Noah's religion even though he had something like that bedtime story to go off of. That was odd. It was a religion. Was it meant to be a secret? Was this something like a secret society? Or more like a cult? More importantly, were his current relatives a part of it? Who was this Aunt Lulubell? Allen wished he could see how her behavior compared to his cousins'. Maybe he could tell if they were practitioners that way. So far, Sheryl was the only one who seemed the least bit fanatical, and he was only fanatical about his children, Rhode in particular.

With such mystery fresh on his mind, Allen ate the dinner Tyki brought to him ("Chicken noodle soup for the ill," the man had explained sympathetically) and went to bed early in the hopes of stopping whatever was plaguing him in its tracks. The aches implied an oncoming cold.

. : T _ T : .

Allen stood on the surface of the water. He looked down, and saw a dark mirror reflecting his face. All around him was the open, still sea.

"Do you miss me child?" whispered an awfully familiar voice. Allen's breath caught in his throat. He turned around. There stood his father, whole, smiling, sane.

"Dad?" he asked brokenly. The man he called Mana in his mind and out loud because he could not fathom how 'Dad' could possibly have abandoned him. And yet there was no better feeling in the world than his father cupping his face in warm, gentle hands.

"You've grown so big! You're almost done growing up." The man touched his forehead to Allen's and the boy pressed into the touch eagerly. "We will be together soon, for eternity this time."

Allen pulled away, frowning. Mana looked…different. There was something animalistic about him. A Sea Monster, or…some chthonic deity.

"No," the boy told him firmly, having searched his father's eyes for the man he loved. This was a predator. Allen very much felt like prey.

"There's no escape. It's our destiny," Mana replied. His voice was disgustingly gentle, and earnest. "It has been our fate for generations, for millennia."

"Neah escaped," Allen said, though he did not know how he knew this. Neah had committed suicide.

"Yes. And now I am broken," Mana lamented. Perhaps this explained his shattered visage, making him unhinged in the wake of losing his twin, whom he should have died side by side with of old age. OR lived with for all eternity. "A lone half of a soul."

Suddenly Allen found himself in the powerful, painful grip of Mana.

"Let me go!" he shouted. He twisted and writhed.

"You are a Noah, Allen," Mana said solemnly. "We lost Neah. We won't lose you too."

Allen screamed in fear. He screamed in anger. Mana released him. He fell down, and his feet broke through the water. It was like plunging through a lake frozen over.

. : T _ T : .

April 18th, 20XX, Noah's Retreat, 4:32 AM

Allen started awake. He was momentarily confused, and disoriented. With a jolt, he realized his phone was ringing. With a groan, the boy picked up the phone to check the caller ID. It was Mother. Well, that wasn't a good sign. She never called at abnormal hours.

"Hello?" he answered worriedly. "Are you alright, Mother?"

Silence answered. His heart skipped beat.

"Aaaaaaaaallllllllleeeeeen," croaked a voice that wavered and rippled like water, feeling as cold as the icy depths in his dreams.

The boy reflexively cast the phone aside with far more force than he had ever shown the device before. It hit the antique dresser, falling to the floor. The screen was black and unlit. He stared at it, shuddering.

Okay, no more reading weird things before going to bed, Allen rationalized once he had calmed down. He had reluctantly collected his phone, but it too looked perfectly normal. Had it all been a dream? A waking one?

Allen wanted to try calling Mother to check on her, but he did not trust anything at the moment. He resigned himself to an early morning that began with a rather rude awakening and hopped into the shower to wash away the sweat and memory of fear from his skin. The boy almost thought he could feel the heat and strength of Mana's touch, yet there were no marks or impressions.

Underneath the hot spray of water, his mind wandered. Allen was genuinely worried that he was not ill in the most conventional sense, but perhaps of the mental-sense. Allen was not the biological child of Mana, who had been mad, but Allen had heard of folie à deux, a madness shared by two. It would explain how he could start going crazy like he imagined Mana had gone crazy.

A mental illness would just as easily explain the headaches, the constant need to sleep, the dreams as grief or stress would. In a way, Allen would be closer than ever to his father and uncle if he was going crazy. He almost wanted to be crazy like them because that would connect them almost as surely as blood. Arkham was proving to be the perfect fuel for madness, of either the grief-kind or the proximity-kind. Even Cross, who had been perfectly sane, believed this to be a place of superstitions and the supernatural.

Allen stepped out of the shower and changed into a fresh set of clothes. He shoved the dirty back in the bag, contemplating his temporary wardrobe. He only had a few outfits left as his visitation drew to a close. Yet no one had offered to do laundry for him, or show him where he could wash his clothes. No one discussed his departure plans either. Allen hadn't wanted to bring it up in case he seemed too eager to leave, but he would remedy that. Preferably today.

The boy picked up his room, made the bed, and opened to curtains to watch the sky change colors as the sun rose. Only he found simple darkness, like an eternal darkness. It was a little disconcerting. At half-past five, he went down to the kitchen for some tea and perhaps a snack to tide him over until the others woke up for breakfast. He was surprised to see another soul perched on the couch, watching the briny sea glimmering with the lingering lights of stars.

"Tyki," Allen said in surprise. The man turned. "What are you—"

"Awake?" the man finished wryly. He turned back to the window. "I have trouble sleeping. I usually only sleep for a few hours at a time. When I am awake, I come sit by the window to watch the waves."

"Oh." Allen did not know what to say. He instead went about making a kettle of hot water for tea, hunting about for the tin of animal crackers he knew Sheryl had stashed somewhere to go with it. Tyki remained poised, listlessly looking out at the Blue. The boy removed the kettle before the lightest of trills could emit from it, since he didn't want to wake anyone else up. He poured hot water into two cups, letting the tea bags steep while he made an artful array of animal crackers on a plate. Allen carried the drinks and plate over to his cousin, offering him some. The enviously handsome accepted the offer with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Allen," he stated kindly, if distantly. He relieved himself of the perch on the counter, and gestured for the boy to follow. "Let's go to the sitting room. It faces dawn, and this morning should be absolutely breathtaking. Lucky us, yes?"

Allen had only been in the parlor once, because it was a little too clinical for his tastes. Though it was a parlor, the small room was more like a study. It comfortably fit a black piano, a gray loveseat, an old fireplace, and two wing-armed shared a slightly lighter shade of gray than the loveseat set around a black round table. The color scheme of the room was pure white, and Allen hated it. IT felt too sterile and impersonal. Still, when Tyki placed the plate of animal crackers on the table with their tea, Allen joined him. It was incongruous, such a pedestrian snack in such a modern, fancy room. He kind of enjoyed it, and felt a little naughty.

"I thought that the sun would rise earlier," the boy confessed. It was nearly six in the morning, and the barest hint of lighter colors was kissing the distant horizon. Tyki hummed thoughtfully.

"Time is a strange concept," he said vaguely. "But luckily for you, it is rising now, and you area awake to see it."

"Agreed," Allen replied. He saw Tyki sip his tea from the corner of his eye.

"What has made you stir so early, cousin?" the man asked lightly. Allen's fingers rubbed against seam of a belt loop, hidden by the way he was seated. He pretended to be hyper-focused on the imminent sunrise, when in reality he was warring with his own thoughts and fears.

"Bad dreams," the boy said at last. "Nightmares. Really bad ones. I have had nightmares before, but these ones are strange and scary in a different way. Sometimes…"

Should he say it? Tyki was a practical stranger for all that Allen liked and trusted the man.

"Sometimes, they even bleed into reality," he admitted quietly, voice a hushed and harsh whisper. "I can't always tell the difference."

I'm beginning to see and hear things that aren't really there, he wanted to say, The veil between dream and reality is tearing and I think I may be losing my mind.

Tyki regarded him solemnly. There was no judgement in his gaze, only that same, consistent thoughtfulness from earlier. "You've been through a lot, Allen."

The boy scoffed, and ducked his head for a drink of tea even as his ears burned with shame.

"I know you're tired of hearing it, but the mind does strange things when it is processing things. As we are speaking, its rewiring itself to cope with what you've experienced," Tyki continued. Allen kept silent, deciding to hear him out. "I know it feels like you are going mad, but I don't think you are. I believe you are perfectly sane. Definitely more than Sheryl."

Allen's mouth twitched at the jab at Tyki's brother. His favorite cousin's confidence in him made Allen feel marginally better.

"How about this: we go out fishing today after breakfast," Tyki suggested. "We've been pushing it off, but you look like you could use an escape from these four walls. It'll help you take your mind off of everything except the here and now."

Allen was still not a fan of being in the middle of the ocean, and was less excited about the prospect of going out in a boat surrounded by water. Mana's disappearance made that uneasiness worse, and recent dreams made him almost want to puke at the suggestion. But it did sound like a sweet escape to him.

"Alright," he agreed. They fell into amicable silence and watched as the sun chased away the darkness, and cast rosy fingers of orange, red, purple, yellow, and blue against backdrop of the sky. It was stunning, as promised, and when the golden globe finally pushed past the horizon, it lined the clouds with glittering gold. He had no words for this, and shifted slightly so that he could see Tyki's expression from the corner of his eye (what was the man's own expression at seeing such beauty like?). Tyki did look awed, but only for a split second, because then his appearance changed.

-ashen skin, golden eyes, a crown of crosses above the brow

Then the moment was gone. Allen blinked. He was pretty sure it was another hallucination, and pretended that he was merely reaching for an animal cracker. He blamed Uncle Neah's weird notes, and his father's horrible bedtime story.

They ate breakfast with the others sometime around eight, and Allen went back upstairs to get his phone (it was a bad idea to mix electronics and water, but he still liked the idea of having it close). Unfortunately, a closer inspection showed that his violent act had left the body and screen split. Allen hadn't recalled damaging it so much. As was established, he couldn't trust his own mind.

"What was one now is two," he said morosely. And the niggle in the back of his mind returned, this time with an answer to why Neah's words had seemed familiar in the first place. In that first terrible dream he had less than a month ago, Cross had been pouring over his own notes with frightening fervor.

"—son of three, two, and also of one—"

"-harbinger, heralder of the apocalypse—"

"—prophesized son of the Great God of the Sea—"

"Neah was right. He isn't safe."

Allen shivered, pushing the awful memory out of his mind where it belonged: in oblivion. The boy stood up and went downstairs to meet Tyki for their long-awaited fishing trip. This is how Allen Walker found himself in the middle of the ocean without a speck of land in sight, clutching his life-jacket dearly and fearfully. Tyki was a marvelous driver, if the term could even be used in this case, but he was still regretting coming out here.

At last the man stopped the boat, and they were gathering poles, fish bait, and hooks.

"Have you ever gone fishing before?" the man asked. Allen shook his head. His cousin showed him how to attach the hook to the line, and the bait to the hook. Then, apparently, there was a trick to casting out because Allen ended up hooking Tyki's sleeve. The man laughed it off, but it was still embarrassing. Allen did his best to pay attention to every lesson, but it was difficult when he was too focused on being scared of a huge body of water surrounding them. Eventually, he managed to relax. It took twenty or so minutes of being seated, but it was still an accomplishment for the boy.

Perhaps it was being comfortable with this constant reminder of his mortality that made Allen feel bold, for he looked at his cousin and asked the question that had been on his mind since arriving in Rhode Island without a departure flight set up.

"Are you trying to keep me here?" he asked Tyki, studying the man's expressions. "Is that why we haven't discussed my itinerary for going back to California?"

Tyki looked genuinely startled by the question. The boy felt both guilt at having made the accusation, and relief that it looked like that had not been the plan after all.

"Of course we want you to stay, Allen. We thought—well, you never asked to go home," Tyki replied. "We thought being here helped, and that you did not want to go back to wherever you were at before. If you do want to go back—"

Oh, Allen definitely felt bad now. "No, I'm sorry. I really do want to go home—not because it's terrible here! I just have someone waiting for me. I miss her, and I grew up with her. She's…she's always taken care of me. I'm sorry, my last guardian knew a lot of bad people, and I just accused you of something awful because of him—I'll stop talking. I've already put my foot in my mouth."

Mother thinks all of you are suspicious, Allen thought. And I get the feeling none of you would trust her with me. And that isn't right. None of this is right.

"Well, we can talk to Sheryl about making arrangements when we get back." Tyki glanced at the sky. Allen followed his gaze, but to him, it looked like another normal sky. "You may need to wait. I smell another storm coming. It'll be a while, don't fret. It'll hit this evening."

Allen crinkled his nose. "You can smell it? Really?"

"Indeed. It comes with being an islander," Tyki replied with a smile.

"I thought Arkham was protected from storms," Allen remarked. "Yet this is two storms in a couple of days."

"It's that time of year when spring clashes with summer; even Arkham will get hit by a few storms. It just won't be wiped off the face of the world," Tyki said amusedly. "The sea and sky will be safe for no one, save our miraculous little rock."

Wonderful, Allen thought. He didn't like the idea of being so far out with a supposed storm coming, even if it was hours away. As he stared out at the water distrustfully, his mind went back to places as dark and cold as the oceans' depths, a perfect medium to project his inner turmoil.

"Did you kill them?"

Allen paled when he realized what he had asked, when he realized what had slipped out of his mouth unbidden and unwanted.

"I—I don't really think that any of you did—"

"You have wanted to ask that for a while, haven't you?" Tyki guessed. Allen looked away. Of all his relatives, he had to ask that of Tyki, the most innocent of all of his relatives, the one he believed the least likely to kill anyone. "I suppose I can see why it would be on you mind. It is a little suspicious that very guardian you've had has either died or disappeared, and that we would be so eager to take someone in who is possibly cursed. It's even more suspicious when you consider that they all came here first, to Arkham. One disappeared, one killed himself, one was killed. And there are no answers or explanations."

Allen hadn't thought that maybe he was the cursed one. Tyki bringing that up, no matter how briefly, probably indicated that it had come up that taking him might lead to the death of whatever adult signed over his guardianship papers.

"Mana comes here, and disappears off the face of the earth. Neah followed him a few months later, and ends up killing himself. For whatever reason, you latest guardian does the same here, following whatever breadcrumbs those brothers left, and he finds himself attacked, mauled. Police don't even know if it was animal or a human that did it." Tyki shook his head grimly and met Allen's eye unwaveringly. "I swear to you, Allen, neither I nor my brother, nor the two brats killed any of them. We aren't here to hurt you, or keep you against your will either. We only want to be a family."

Allen believed him. It was the painful sort of closure that simultaneously broke the boy's heart and healed it.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "All I seem capable of today is accusing you."

Mother would still be suspicious of it all, because words hardly meant anything. Lying was one of the inventions of mankind, arguably one of the earliest sins. In this case, Allen believed Tyki. His family was well-off enough in this little corner that the wealth did not matter to them, and the esteem of being a part of Noah's family seemed to be assigned by default; it was not a title of prestige that they needed to murder someone over. The fact that Tyki was out here in a boat, and could have a boating accident (several times already, in fact) was proof that they did not covet money or prestige. There was no motive.

"Adam told my brother about Old Noah. Times were hard for him, and he often lost his way, in those times, Old Noah's wife would tell him, The ocean is life, and if we love him and accept him, one day, we will all return there." Tyki tilted his head towards the line where the sea met the sky, perhaps even gazing somewhere beyond that point. "Here is eternity, Allen. Mana never left you. He awaits you in the sea, where we all come from."

Allen was distantly shocked that this little tid-bit, no doubt the Noah brand of Christianity, had been shared with him. "I'm scared of the water, Tyki. I don't think your beliefs will really work for me."

"It may look frightening," Tyki admitted, "but there is little for you and I to fear. In the water, we will find peace."

His cousin smiled then. Tyki gave his young cousin every ounce of his full attention and it was a weighty thing. "I was young when they left, not even ten years old, but you know, I still remember them. They loved to sneak out of the house and go for midnight swims."

Allen couldn't believe Uncle Neah would do something so…wild.

"Really," he asked dubiously. Tyki laughed.

"Yes, well, the sea nearly took them, once. Around sixteen or seventeen years ago, they went swimming during a storm." Tyki's expression grew serious. "Neah and Mana were so scared when they got back. Neah swore he would never leave land again. He moved to mainland, and Mana, of course, followed him. The sea is everything for our family, and they just left it all behind, abandoned our way of life, our family…"

Tyki shook himself from the dark memories. He focused back on Allen as if his very existence were a miracle.

"Shortly afterwards, Maana reconnected with us," Tyki continued. "He wanted us to know about his beloved Allen Walker."

The boy felt his cheeks heat with a blush, a flush of warmth because that was so very much something Mana would do. Insane the man might have been, but he loved Allen.

. : T _ T : .

April 18th, 20XX, Noah's Retreat, 2:09 PM

Tyki and Allen returned to the house on a hill for a late lunch, taking their catches to Sheryl to be cleaned and cooked. Allen had not managed to catch a single thing, but he wasn't super concerned. Allen hadn't wanted to catch anything. Tyki seemed to understand and respect that. After lunch, Allen borrowed Tyki's cell phone to give Mother a call to let her know that he had broken his phone by accident, and the promise of continued daily calls. He also let her know they would be working on plans for a flight home that very night, but it would all depend on weather. Despite the phone call being made in front of everyone in the household, no one made fun of his reassurances to the woman, or the declaration of affection for her. Allen thought back to all of the horrible things he had asked Tyki in that boat and felt bad for ever thinking that his relatives were terrible people.

Finally, the boy could admit that his grief and stress had twisted him into someone he had not recognized. It was like a release, realizing that he had been looking for answers, looking for someone to blame. Allen hadn't even noticed. Thus he didn't feel like hallucinations, headaches, aches, or exhaustion were out of the realm in terms of symptoms he could be exhibiting. While he had no answers or explanations for Cross's death, he felt confident that the disappearance of his father and the suicide of his uncle were sufficiently explained away. He had closure on those things now, a certainty that hadn't been there when it was first suggested that Mana had been born of madness, and Neah cursed by grief. Allen could understand how it felt, just a little, to lose someone who was your whole world. He imagined that was what Mana was to Uncle Neah: his world. In all likelihood, Cross had probably been murdered by an enemy. He had many of those, and learning that Cross once delved into arcane arts meant some of them were probably not all right in the head. They could have been the ones to murder him so savagely.

After lunch, Allen decided to hang out with Rhode and Wisely in the sitting room with a game of Monopoly situated between them. The storm rolled in sometime during there second round; more accurately, it was very late afternoon rather than the evening that Tyki predicted, but Allen was simply happy to be indoors and on solid land. Rhode and Wisely seemed to take some energy from the storm outside, while the deluge and wind and general raucous unnerved the boy. Admittedly, he was not completely immune to the invigorating effects. In the presence of his cousins, he felt very little fear. As a matter of fact, they had to end the second game a little early as their comforting presence became so effective that it made him sleepy enough for a late-afternoon nap.

Not that Allen had noticed. No, he had been laying on the floor as Wisely and Rhode tried to negotiate properties with each other. He had thought he was blinking, watching them. Then in the space between one blink and the next—

He hurt.

His body was being ripped in two.

"I can't do this," he sobbed, clutching at his savior, his loyal counterpart carrying him to the boat. They were escaping, on their way towards the mainland, towards freedom. But it was not soon enough—it was such a terrible time to be going, but it would be even worse to wait.

"Yes you can," his companion whispered. He was lowered onto a seat in the boat's cabin. "Hold on just a little bit longer. We're almost free."

He clutched at his abdomen and cried out as another wave of cramping pain hit him. What had they done to him? Was this poison? Or was this a part of the transformation? He hoped not. He would not become one of them!

Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!

Allen jerked awake with a cry of absolute agony, clutching at his belly in the phantom aftershocks of pain from his dream. Someone was holding him tightly, trying to soothe him.

"Shh, shh, Allen, you're alright," someone whispered into his ear comfortingly. It made a tightness he didn't know he was holding onto loosen. Almost immediately in his response to his hiss, a hand gently rubbed against his back.

"…hurt," Allen managed to choke out. Even though the pain was but a memory, his muscles were all still clenched and stiff.

"I know it hurts, Allen, but you are strong. You can get through this."

The man holding him did not loosen his grip, nor did he cease talking. He rocked the boy to and fro, wiped away the tears that fell.

The impressions from the dream linger on Allen longer than he wanted to admit. The pain had been one thing, the fear and betrayal another. It took longer for the emotions to fade than the pain, but eventually, it did just that: fade. Even when he was limp and calm, the boy made no request to be released from the man's hold. Tyki's brand of cigarettes might be different from Cross's but it still felt like a blanket of familiar comfort.

"I heard you screaming. I sent Rhode and Wisely out. They were freaked out," Tyki told him after a few minutes more. "It was like being in a horror movie, in a scene when someone gets possessed."

Tyki's dark humor drew a snicker from Allen. He became serious far too quickly.

"I felt like I was dying in my dream," he explained. "I felt like…like that man in Alien, with something trying to tear itself right out of me."

Allen drew in a deep breath that came out more raggedly than he expected it would.

"It was a bad dream," he admitted. Tyki's hand combed through his hair—gently, affectionately.

"You've had many of those," Tyki replied simply. "It's normal, considering your situation. Especially because you thought we were all murderers."

That elicited another laugh from the boy. He listened to the sound of thunder rolling through the heavens, listened to the violence of waves crashing across the rocks. It was frightening.

"I'm afraid of thunder, and the water," he told Tyki. "I want to go back home, to Mother. Why did I ever come here?"

Tyki was quiet, giving Allen a few minutes to collect himself as more tears escaped.

"You're here because you were called here. This is your home," the man told him honestly. "You are a Noah, and you belong with us."

Tyki's chest moved Allen's as he breathed in deeply.

"This house is old. We fix it up every decade, but its bones remain the same. The rock we live on is the same one we are born on, and when we die, we return to the sea. We are Noahs, and more than blood, what connects us is love and loyalty." Tyki pressed a kiss to Allen's sweaty forehead. Allen nearly flinched at the soft touch. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been treated with such tenderness. He knew—logically—that all of his guardians had loved him. Uncle Neah and Cross had both shown their own particularly brand of love through odd acts rather than physical affection or words. Only Mana, his father, had given him hugs and kisses and cuddles like Tyki was now. He missed it. Mother's never felt…right.

"We are born here and though we leave for some years, we will always return. This is home. A Noah is always welcome," Tyki promised fiercely. Allen hadn't really considered himself to be a Noah. He didn't share DNA with these people. He was adopted. Their long lineage could be traced, whereas his was completely unknown. But now, for the first time, he finally felt like he could be one.

. : T _ T : .

Allen felt like his tears had been something like a cleansing ritual. He joined the family for dinner feeling very refreshed. Rhode and Wisely were visibly relieved to see him feeling noticeably better, and Allen apologized for having scared them. The fish was delicious, and everyone moved on from his "episode" without treating it like an elephant in the room. The boy did not know how they managed that, but he respected them for that talent.

After dinner, Allen gave Mother one last call on Tyki's phone before retiring for the night in his own room.

Alone in a room that was becoming familiar but still remained foreign to him in many ways, a lot of Allen's fears and insecurities returned. Outside, the incessant storm continued to rage on. He tried to peek outside, but despite the din, there was not much to see in the darkness as lightening was now scarce. He imagined that the waves looked big, unfriendly, dangerous.

Powerful, his mind supplied.

Powerful. Allen's eyes glazed over as a deep, intrinsically familiar voice whisper-repeated the word in his head. He vaguely recalled someone with that voice. Who did it belong to? Mana? Tyki? Uncle Neah? Whoever it was spoke of the sea, naming it as untamable, untouchable, ancient, primal—

Chthonic.

Allen flinched away from the window. The curtain fell back into place, blocking the chill of the window pain. If only it could also block out the whispers now nascent in his imagination and hallucinations. It took all of the boy's willpower to force himself to walk away and do something that left him vulnerable: changing his clothes and prepare for sleep.

He did manage to change, and then it was a little easier to use the toilet, wash his hands and face, brush his teeth. All menial, necessary tasks that he could do one at a time like checklist. Especially brushing his teeth.

Allen turned on the water, dampened the bristles, and added a pea-sized dot of toothpaste. He looked himself in the mirror—his face looked so very pale and uneasy—and tilted his head to start at the back teeth tucked into the corner of his cheek. And there at his right shoulder stood a shadow.

The boy startled enough to drop his toothbrush. It clattered into the sink but he did not hear it. The boy sucked in several harsh breaths, unable to look away from the obscuration staring back at him.

I should scream, he thought. All that came out of his mouth were wheezing gasps. I need to scream for help.

Allen's mouth opened to at least try forming the shape of a cry. A black hand slammed over his reflection's mouth—only he could feel its icy grip. Allen choked and his moment of panic became tenfold. This was real. But it couldn't be real. It was another hallucination. It had to be.

The grip loosened slightly as the shadow slid its hand to his jaw, the monster in the mirror brushing cold lips to his ear, lips cold and wet and seaweed. Gooseflesh crawled across Allen's in a slow, sharp prickle.

Remember me Allen? It hissed. The boy whimpered, because he did remember. He had seen this creature before at Lenalee's Sweet Abode.

"You aren't real," Allen whispered. It laughed. The sound was worse than nails scraping against a sheet of paper or the squeal of car tires. Allen cringed as sharp fingers forced his head back harshly.

Why do you resist me, Allen? I am your all.

"Because you aren't real! You're just proof that I'm crazy!"

I am real, the shadow promised, pressing an icy, wet kiss against his throat. I am your madness. I am your sanity. I am your mind.

It chuckled cruelly as Allen trembled and began to cry. Each declaration was punctuated with a kiss to the column of the boy's neck.

I am your body, your soul, your life, the fate that you cannot escape.

Every press of ice-lips was a mockery of the warm, tender love Mana would give him, leaving a chilling burn from neck to his cheek, where though they were ghosts of pressure, they still felt like frostbite. At last, a final kiss was pressed to the corner of Allen's mouth.

I am your all and your all is mine.

A loud stroke of thunder made Allen jump out of his skin, and the lights went out. The boy's heart was pounding, and he was afraid to know if he was alone in the dark, or if know the shadow was all around him. He couldn't feel its touch, but he was soc cold that he was shivering. Could he tell the difference anymore?

Allen reached up to his cheek with shaking hands to feel if there was any proof of what just happened, even though logic dictated that there would be none. Yet his fingers met something wet, and as they followed the trail, it went down from his cheek, to his jaw, to the line down his neck where kisses had been pressed.

"What the hell?" he whispered, so very confused and frightened. Had his mind conjured the hallucination in response to the sensation? Or was this proof that there had been a shadow there?

Allen fumbled for the door handle and very nearly fell out of the bathroom. He realized as he breathed the fresh air of his room that he had been overwhelmed with the sickening stench of brine. As he caught himself on the wall, the lights came back on. Allen whirled around to face the bathroom, heart pounding like a war drum to face down whatever had been in there with him. Only there was nothing. The bathroom looked as normal as it had every other time of the day.

Allen stared at it, drawing in a deep breath. Even the smell of saltwater was fading away quickly enough that he couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not. Either way, he decided that he did not need to brush his teeth before bed this time and closed the door as calmly as he could.

Before Allen could finish shoving his day-clothes into the bag, there was knock on the door. Allen jumped, feeling like he was having a heart attack for the thousandth time. He silently cursed himself for being too jumpy and went to open the door. His hand hesitated on the handle. What if it was another hallucination? The boy braced himself, and twisted the knob. He nearly collapsed in relief.

It was only Tyki.

"I just wanted to check on you," his cousin said, looking him over with a discerning eye. "Are you okay? You look scared."

"Everything's alright," Allen lied. "I was just startled by the outage."

Tyki didn't look like he believed the lie. Allen tried to make himself believe the lie. Outside, the storm danced on.