Phantom Recall

23 || turning point

I can tell he doesn't want to resort to doing as such, but Noir has no choice but to drag me out of the apartment complex by the hand. Iver certainly doesn't plan to wait for us, and Noir continues to stress over and over the importance of sticking together. To keep our eyes focused on one another, as much as on the road ahead.

He hasn't spoken a word to me about what we saw. Regarding Leon, that is. Nothing more than that defensive, dismissive comment aimed towards Iver, and for the sole purpose of ending the conversation before it could spiral into something worse. But I wonder if he has his doubts, too. That I've been lying about my history with Leon.

But it's nothing, there's nothing there, it's just an empty space...

As empty as this realm.

Where is everyone? Or could there really be so few souls here...? I can imagine no one would be here by choice, but surely there must be others, others unfortunate as us who found themselves in some desperate situation, scouring the land for an escape route. We may be dead but this place feels like the essence of death itself.

And I feel like a lost child in the middle of it all.

Eret...I'm glad at least that you aren't here with us...

"Is...is it raining...?"

It's Iver who first steps out into the open air again, his hand now outstretched, neck tilted back and aimed at the sky. Just like the ground the air is obscured with mist and haze, scatterings of small orbs of energy that weakly flicker like dying stars... and now, down from the strange clouds falls a substance I can only assume is rain, though how it could be raining is beyond my comprehension. Then again, I suppose it would be foolish of me to apply the typical laws of logic and science in a place like this.

Even still.

My eyes lift to the sky, then slip over to Noir, only to find him with his hand outstretched, too. Watching in silence as the rain falls upon his open palm, he scrutinizes it. Eventually he curls his fingers into a tight fist encased in spirit magic. Brilliant and lavender, and the skin of his forearm starts to acquire the same color and subtle glow.

"This is...probably a bad omen..."

"Probably?" Iver spins around in the beat of a heart, a forceful expression directed at Noir. "Probably isn't good enough, what do you-"

He's cut short as the ground beneath our feet starts to tremble — a brief yet rattling sensation, causing even the stubborn Iver to extend his arm to hold on to Noir for balance. The tremor stops. The three of us exchange unnerved looks. Then, before anyone can even begin to open their mouth, in the distance a guttural cry swells from some corner of the realm. A frighteningly inhuman cry, one that could only have been uttered from the depths of a great beast.

It's impossible to tell how close the beast is. Everything is distorted, both internal and external. Should it be dwelling in the smoke a short ways behind us, or anticipating our forward motion in the fog ahead... everything echoes here. Everything eerie and encompassing. The smell of burnt rubber and ash and mold all blend together in a terrible medley hanging in the atmosphere about our heads.

Suddenly Noir begins to pull me again. He leads me along by the hand, and at this point I have no intention of opposing him, either. But Iver continues on his own. He walks briskly ahead of us back the way we originally came, but on his own, head held high as he scans every nook and cranny that he can without straying from a straightforward path. His arm flickers and sputters with an unstable energy. Like sparks from a fire, dulled by the rain. He's unsteady.

The ground shakes again. We're all forced to stop momentarily.

"Tell me...Hitsuji..."

Iver speaks but doesn't turn to face us this time.