The rat man chuckles to himself, the chair by the fireplace manifesting behind him as he sits himself down, leaning his cane against the arm of the chair. “Oof, pardon me… I may have legs, and I may be immortal, but I’m still old as dirt… at least most of it!” He throws his head back, barking a laugh at his pun. Elizabeth laughs quietly with him, while Will grapples with the growing warmth in his belly. What does he mean by “Champion?” Because it can’t possibly mean what he thinks it does…

“Will,” Ratra finally says, shaking the boy out of his thoughts threatening to send him into a spiral. The laughter has long since died down, and now both his sister and god are looking at him. His face reddens slightly.

“The people have been without hope for a very long time. Mortalkind has grown despondent, empty, and determination runs low. The great wall we gods had erected as a final line of defense from evil has cast a shadow upon the people’s hearts. The line between haven and prison blurs evermore with each passing second.” Ratra states with sorrow in his eyes. Thinking about it, Will completely understands what he means. He had felt this himself, this growing restlessness, as if the walls protecting them were slowly closing in, and it was getting hard to breathe.

“But it doesn’t have to remain this way,” he continues. “The forces of Sin aren’t nearly as strong as they think. In this situation, all it would take are the actions of a few to bring about the release of many. What we need is a small collection of heroes, Champions, men and women willing to stand up and retaliate against the darkness we have lived beneath for so long. These creatures believe they have won, but you can prove them wrong. You can be our courage, our life, our strength, our wisdom. But you can’t do it alone.”

Will feels the presence of others. Shadows, mysteries, people new and familiar, all gripping the back of his chair. “You will journey to the other kingdoms, recruit the other Champions, and unite against the forces of Sin. This is your mission, should you choose to take it. It’s your choice.”

A silence falls over the strange company. A boy, a ghost, and a rat, all sitting ‘round the fireplace determining the fate of the world. Thinking about this, Will looks into those warm, shining eyes of a rodent. “Before I answer, I have to know. What happened? To the village, to Mom, to Elizabeth. Is she…” he trails off, the fear of just what the answer may be clear as day in his eyes. Ratra’s smile slightly wavers, but his voice remains level. “Your village is fine, for the most part. They’ve simply been… relocated. By use of a terrible relic, the Flask of Greed, they were stolen from their homes and taken north to Demonia. For what? I do not know. But they are alive,” he reassures, before his eyes take on a special, knowing twinkle. “But as for your sister, that’s a completely different story The Flask attempted to take her, but something held her down, a powerful magic that far outweighs that of Sin: love.”

Will and Elizabeth blink at Ratra, glance at each other, eyebrows raised, then look back at the strange rat man. And both double over laughing.

“Yer jokin’, right? ‘Cuz that’s gotta be the corniest frickn thing I’ve ever heard,” Will grins, clutching at his stomach. Ratra rolls his eyes as the teens continue their raucous hilarity. “While it certainly may sound like some cheap cliche, it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Once the two finally calm down, Ratra patiently tapping his cane all the while, he resumes his explanation. “The secret lies in that necklace of yours,” he says, nodding in Will’s direction, who subconsciously reaches for his throat. The boy’s eyes suddenly light up. “So then, the stories are true!” he exclaims, a wondrous gleam in his eye. “These shells really do hold spirits!”

Ratra laughs again, slapping his knee as the siblings watch, still confused. “No, son,” he answers. “Those shells are nothing special; I’m afraid you were sold nothing more than a story. He was hoping you’d come to buy more, or maybe tell your friends and have them buy some.” Well, jokes on him, Will didn’t have any money or friends. “No, the shell on its own held no power or special ability, they are simply shells. In reality, its power came from the sentimentality of such a trinket. If I remember correctly, did you not wear it nearly every day since?” The old man raises an eyebrow at Elizabeth, who blushes slightly. Will smiles to himself, and though he’s still laughing silently at just how sappy all this “love magic” is, he’s touched his sister would really care enough to wear the silly little gift of a silly little boy who truly didn’t know what he was talking about at the time.

Ratra waves his paw as the two watch, a golden dust filling the air between them, dancing over some invisible object until it reveals itself: a long, gleaming, golden chain, starting at the necklace sat on Will’s chest and leading up to a thick manacle around Elizabeth’s neck. “Oh,” she states, looking blankly at the collar of a prisoner. “That’s… new.”

“To put it simply, Elizabeth has been ‘dislocated,’ leaving behind her spirit, chained down only by this ‘Soul Link.’ Only Will wearing that necklace can see her,” Ratra finishes, at least, he thought he did, until an idea came to mind. “Ah, yes! The two of you have already become quite familiar with a certain spirit, if I recall.” The rodent grins, before calling out, “Callum! Callum, come meet our guests. Callum? Callum, oh, blasted- there you are!”

At his master’s behest, the blue ball from before drops in from the abyss above their heads and lands with a soft plong in between them. “Wait, the ball thing?!” Will’s face lights up in excitement at the sight of his new friend. The ball, apparently named Callum, hops up from the dirt floor and into Will’s lap as he giggles. Ratra watches the scene with the same energy as a grandfather watching his youngins play with the dog. “Yes, he’s my most faithful servant. Though his spirit isn’t nearly as strong as Elizabeth’s, he still maintains what little sanity hasn’t gone crumbling off into the valley below.”

Callum settles into Will’s lap, and the subject returns to the future. “I’m afraid that’s about as much as I’m able to explain,” Ratra returns to speaking. “But now, you are left with a choice. You can take up the mantle of Champion, receive my blessing, and go out to save your family and your world from the evil that has plagued it for so long. Or, you could simply live out your days in solitude, waiting for another hero to take your place. No one could blame you for either choice. I won’t lie to you, or sugarcoat it. The path ahead of you is dark and dangerous, and if you think that creature from the forest was a horror from your worst nightmares, you will be faced by terror far beyond what you could imagine. You will likely face death at nearly every turn.” Will and Elizabeth sit in resolute silence, listening to the rat’s words with concerned rapture.

“But I also believe that there is a very good reason for you being here. What are the odds that one boy, out of every village to have been attacked, would be the only one to escape? That only two siblings would care enough for each other that fate would intervene, allowing them to remain together? And why at this village, at the base of these mountains, near my temple? There’s coincidence, and then there’s fate. It is my humble theory that this meeting has been set up by divine forces beyond even my own comprehension. The world needs a hero, and by God we might just have one.”

Once his monologue finishes, a deep, thoughtful silence falls over the strange company. Will absentmindedly strokes the top of Callum as he cranes his neck back, staring into the darkness above. He ponders just how far up it goes, and just how much knowledge could be contained in these walls. Ratra claims it’s all the knowledge in the world, but such a figure is impossible for his head to wrap around.

The abyss reminds him of the night sky, but wrong. Terrifying. No stars, no moons, just black, with the ever heightening walls rising on all sides. That dark could contain anything. An image flashes through his mind of several Beast Linghams crawling from within that infinite darkness, their eyes flashing with bloody malice and their legs wrapping around him. He shudders, casting these thoughts away, before looking back to meet Ratra’s golden eyes.

“Why me?” he asks. “Of all the people in Humania, in Oracle, why choose some loser kid? I’m weak, Ah freak out at the first sight of spiders, an’ I can hardly talk with my own family, much less a prospective Champion. I’m just some loser kid from a tiny town hardly deserving of a mark on th’ map. As much as I’d love ta take ya up on the offer, I jus’ can’t help but think there’s prolly someone out there better fer th’ job, cuz I’m just not hero material.” Will hags his head, his mind swarming with all kinds of toxic thoughts. Those words repeat over and over, …just some loser kid… …just some loser kid… …just some loser kid…

Ratra smiles, and Will raises his head, his eyes clouding over from mental exhaustion. The rat man speaks, “Anyone can be a hero. Anyone can be brave enough to fight evil, kind enough to fight for others, strong enough to fight with fire, or smart enough to fight a winning battle. All it really takes is the effort and determination to do what you must.” Will feels his confidence tank with every word, despite very well knowing there to be a ‘but’ soon enough.

“But this isn’t about any of those qualities.” Bingo. “This is truly about love. When your sister or mother were ever down, you’d break your back to make it better. Even though Ms. Lingham terrified you, you still took pity on her and volunteered to deliver to her. And even though Nalan looked down on you, considered you strange or freakish, still you grieved for them. You may not be the bravest, the kindest, the strongest or the smartest, you are the most loving. And that is what we need in our Champion.”

Will falls back into silence, mulling it over. Is he really all that…? He never really saw anything he saw as special, or remarkable in any way… he just did what he wanted. Anyone else would… right?

A warm hand falls on his shoulder, and he looks up into the glittering blue eyes of his sister, those Newbie eyes. She smiles that golden smile, and he hears a thousand words not once said. It is in those eyes and that smile that he comes to his decision.

He suddenly stands up, cloak fluttering around him and Callum rolling from his lap, filled with a new determination he has not felt before. Elizabeth follows, the chain round her neck clinking as she stands, and Ratra squeezes his plump behind from his seat, plopping down on the floor. “I take it you’ve made your decision?” the rat smiles, and Will nods. “Figgered Ah might as well do somethin’ with my life, so why not?” he grins.

The three of them stand in the middle of the platform, the fireplace ever crackling. Ratra waves his paw one last time, and in the center of the trio rises a long, curved blue sword, the blade curling into itself before reaching the hilt, the same sword from the temple before. “This is Windbreaker,” Ratra muses, and the two gaze at its shimmering surface, the firelight passing through the blade and splitting out into dim blue lights that pass over their faces. “Its weight wll match your abilities, but can become so light that it carries on the wind. And that is what you shall do: with my blessing, not only will you receive strength and stamina beyond that of a normal Human, you will also be able to channel the power of the wind so that it may do your bidding.” That catches Will off guard. “You mean I get to learn magic?” he says incredulously. Ratra chuckles at the boy's outburst. “Yes. The power of Champions is more than simple raw strength; they are gifted the power to manipulate the elements to their will, as the ancients once did long ago. The wind shall be yours to guide.”

A dumb smile appears on his face as he continues to study the blade before him. This whole Champion thing was sounding more and more intriguing by the second.

“Welp, this will be our farewell,” Ratra sighs. “I’m unsure if I’ll see you again, but for now this will be goodbye. Your mission will be to head to the Fawn kingdom and recruit your first Champion. The road outside your village should take you straight to the gate out of here, though it’ll likely be guarded. It’ll be up to you how to get past. Other than that, I have nothing more to say and nothing more to give, other than my sincere farewell and my blessing. When you’re ready, take the sword, and that will be all.”

They stand in silence a moment more, before Elizabeth bends down, steadying herself on her knees, and wraps her arms around Ratra. The god looks startled, his glasses getting slightly crooked as she embraces him, before he accepts it and reciprocates. “You take good care of that boy, alright?” he chuckles as the two come apart. Elizabeth grins and nods. “Of course, who else will if he refuses?” The two of them have a laugh at Will’s expense as he grows impatient. “Alright I get it, we aughta get a move on.” And without another word, he grasps the handle of the blade.

A shockwave of blue light ripples through his skin, his every hair standing on end, and his heart firing up to 11. Wind from seemingly nowhere begins to howl, his cloak flipping and snapping in the sudden gust. It swirls around him, picking up his clothes and sending his hair into a frenzy. Ratra smiles and nods solemnly, saying, “Goodbye,” though his words are overtaken by the wind. As it picks up, moving faster and faster, the world slowly fades to pure white.

~~~

The door opens, and suddenly Will and Elizabeth find themselves looking into their home, back in the empty village. They look around, seeing no change other than the sun shining brightly above them. Just how long had they been gone? Will doesn’t feel tired at all, despite not having slept since his little nap on the couch. On top of that, all the leaves, dirt, cuts in his clothes and skin, and bruises all seem to have vanished. He feels brand new.

As for Elizabeth, she’s just as incorporeal as ever.

The two of them stroll through the entrance to what was once a home to them, now feeling like a grave. Light pours in from the kitchen window, catching the strewn pages of Charlotte Newbie’s cookbook. The fire room shares a similar fate, with pages from Elizabeth’s book scattered all over. Nothing has moved. No one’s come home.

Might as well get packing.

---

As he’s throwing things in his bag, Elizabeth waiting for him downstairs, he catches sight of something on the floor. A feather. He picks it up, settling onto his stiff bedsheets and strokes it, noticing its extreme softness, as well as how it always rights itself despite how many times he plays with it. Its baby blue color feels familiar, though he’s not quite sure why. Something about it fascinates him.

He doesn’t have time for this. He casts it aside, throws himself to the floor on his belly, and starts rummaging beneath his bed for anything he may need. The feather flutters in the air a bit, before settling on his pillow. It does not move, nor will it. When he returns, it will be here waiting for him, whether he knows it or not.

---

Will finally comes downstairs to find Elizabeth lying face-down on the fire room floor. “Whatcha doin?” he calls, smirking. She startles, looking up at him through her tangled hair. “Well, I was hoping to at least finish the chapter I was on, but as it turns out spirits can’t exactly turn pages. But by the point I figured that out, I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Will reaches the bottom of the steps, chuckling to himself as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “S’pose I can relate. You comin’?” She rolls her eyes. “Of course you already know the answer to that,” she says, tugging at her invisible leash, before grunting to her feet.

The two step out into the ghostly street. Despite it being broad daylight, the moon till seems to shine over the dirt path leading to that accursed valley. This is their home, the only place they’ve ever known. And now they’ll be leaving, for the first time ever.

Will listens to the door shut behind him, the sound of wood crashing into wood resembling the sound of a crypt sealed shut for the last time. But he knows it won’t be the last time. He’ll return, and he has every hope it’ll be holding the hands of his mother and sister.

Without a word, and without turning to see the mountains or that house that still shrieks, the two depart into the world unknown.