Legacy's Wake

Tarot and Joker watched in dismay as the weather shifted dramatically, fully aware that they had made a colossal mistake. Below them, members of the noble family and their fellow crew stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide with amazement at the sudden, ominous change in the atmosphere.

Ralphie, balancing a clean plate in his hands, stepped toward the window and peered out into the distance. "What's happening?" he wondered aloud, his gaze drifting to Celeste, who lingered uncertainly at the far corner of the room.

Celeste shook her head slowly. "I'm not entirely sure… We've seen our share of storms and heavy winds, but nothing like this. It's as if the frigid air from our mountain peaks has been dragged down to earth." Her voice trembled with worry as a sudden chill swept over her, and she shivered visibly, clearly distressed by the unprecedented cold.

Ralphie grabbed his raincoat and dashed outside after dropping his plate, quickly followed by Celeste, Nathaniel, and Kou. The four of them stepped into a chaotic scene—powerful winds roared, nearly sweeping them off their feet. In the distance, a gigantic vortex was forming, its swirling mass darkening the sky as if heralding the arrival of a divine force.

"That's not good," muttered Kou, his anxiety evident as he watched citizens scurry back to their homes, haphazardly covering their heads with anything at hand. Nathaniel, shielding his face from the biting wind, added, "What could cause such a drastic change? This isn't just any lethal storm—it feels entirely unnatural."

From the rear of the main hall, Damien, who had been assisting with the household duties, stepped forward and made his way past the gathered guests. His voice, deep and resonant with regal authority, cut through the rising panic. "I fear we are witnessing a calamity reminiscent of a dark age. I recall, when I was but a teen enthralled by the splendor of the Cascade Cradle palace, a tempest so fierce besieged our land—it ravaged our homes and claimed many lives. We had hoped such a monstrous storm would remain nothing more than a legend of the past."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over the troubled faces of those before him. "Yet here we stand, under the shadow of that same malevolence. The only explanation I can offer is that something sacred, something bound to our Goddess herself, has been grievously damaged. It appears as though the very heart of her divine consciousness has been shattered, rendering her incapable of tempering the ocean's wrath as she once did. In its place, a new order of chaos has arisen—a destructive force that defiles our sacred domain and casts our people into despair."

His words, heavy with sorrow and royal gravity, echoed over the tumultuous landscape as the storm continued its relentless assault.

Ralphie turned to Damien, his trusted caretaker, and pressed on with his question. "But what does this mean for your homeland? Is there any way to fix it? Can we do something to stop all this—the storms, the winds, everything?" he asked, his voice filled with urgency and concern.

Damien's expression remained steady, his tone solemn and measured as he replied, "I dare say our only chance to reverse this calamity is to restore peace and control to our Goddess, Phalris. At present, she is unstable, her dominion over her sacred birthplace in disarray. Yet, I cannot say for certain how we might recover the balance and authority she has so tragically lost."

Ralphie, steadfast at the forefront, maintained his grip as he focused on the chaos unfolding around him and his comrades, while Damien continued his measured address with all the gravitas of a true royal.

"It is indeed a wonder—and a calamity—that such an event should transpire within our household, in the very presence of our honored guests," Damien intoned, his voice deep and resonant, each word imbued with regal authority. "Moreover, the timing of this occurrence is most inauspicious, and the nature of this transformation fills me with dread that echoes not only through my own soul, but through the hearts of all who earn their living in Cascade Cradle."

He paused, his gaze drifting over the anxious faces gathered before him, before continuing in a measured cadence that seemed to draw time itself into stillness. "I find myself compelled to ask: how could any mortal—or perhaps creature of darker design—unleash such a tumultuous ruckus upon our lands? It is conceivable that Hollow, that elusive figure lurking in the shadows of his unknown domain, is behind these disturbances, orchestrating his machinations in secret, hidden from prying eyes. And, as if that were not enough, our royal guards have recently encountered a new band of visitors, unbidden and unexpected, whose very presence adds insult to injury."

As Damien's words washed over the assembly, the weight of his solemn tone sinking deep into every listener's heart, a sudden chill fell over the gathering. In an instant, a razor-sharp blade materialized, pressing against Ralphie's neck—its edge a mere whisper away from his skin. Damien, standing imperiously behind him, fixed his unwavering gaze upon the assembly as he continued.

"Yet, dear pirates, I must inquire—surely you had no part in this unholy disturbance?" he declared, his tone a blend of sorrow, accusation, and royal command. "Consider, if you will, the magnitude of our loss and the sanctity of our domain. I beseech you to answer with honesty, for the fate of Cascade Cradle and the honor of our people hang in the balance."

Ralphie stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to turn around as he silently braced himself against Damien's advancing presence. Even the crew behind him dared not move, knowing that any sudden shift might bring lethal repercussions upon Ralphie.

"Enough with your act, Damien," Ralphie declared in a low, cutting tone. "You're not truly one of the noble family, are you? And that affected way of speaking—it's hardly suited to your real desires. I can tell by the change in your expression, from courteous and refined to something far colder." With a deliberate tilt of his head, he cast a furtive glance back, only allowing his eyes to meet Damien's as the blade pressed even closer.

In response, Damien's lips curved into a wry grin, and his voice suddenly dropped its formal cadence to something more casual. "Oh, dear heavens. It appears my little performance has finally overclocked your feeble brain and turned a new leaf. I thought you'd have caught on sooner, dear pirate."

Almost immediately, as if by magic, Damien's uniform began to shift and transform before their very eyes, the fabric rippling and altering its form—a vivid display that confirmed his true nature.

In an instant, the polished elegance of Damien's uniform began to distort, its fabric twisting and rippling as if alive. The rich, regal cloth darkened and shifted into a sleek, form-fitting jacket made of dark leather. A thick fur collar sprouted at the shoulders, giving him a more predatory silhouette. As the transformation spread, it revealed the sharp angles of his toned arms and a multitude of silver rings glinting on his fingers, each one catching the light with an ominous gleam.

His hair, once neatly styled, now appeared tousled and a shade lighter—soft, silvery-pink strands falling in casual disarray across his forehead. Beneath the unruly fringe, his eyes took on a more intense quality, shadowed by a mischievous light. The warm, courteous smile he had worn only moments before was gone, replaced by a cunning, almost predatory grin that bared a hint of malice. Even his nails seemed darker—some coated with a faint black polish that emphasized the delicate silver lines of the rings on his fingers.

Where once he exuded the charm of a dutiful guardian, Damien now radiated the raw confidence of someone who reveled in danger. The contrast between the formal air he had cultivated and the rebellious, edgy style he now displayed was jarring—yet it suited him in a way that hinted at a far more ruthless side.

"The name's Hollow—yeah, that's what they call me," he said in a low, almost mocking voice. As he spoke, he spun his blade in a lazy circle near Ralphie's neck, letting the steel glint in the shifting light. Each rotation brought it just a hair closer, like he was toying with the idea of slicing skin but never fully committing. "Before we continue this little 'romantic' reunion, I got a question for you. If my memory's not totally shot, didn't your so-called captain drag in some fancy artifact, huh?"

He flicked his wrist, flipping the blade around as though it weighed nothing, then paused it a breath away from Ralphie's throat, wearing a crooked grin. "But, wait—guess I heard it's all busted up now. Because, y'know…" He jerked his chin toward the raging sky above, where storms rumbled like a nightmare come to life. "It's pretty obvious that something's gone super wrong. Looks like you broke more than just a trinket, huh?"

Ralphie held firm, refusing to flinch despite the blade hovering near his throat. "So, you're Hollow, huh? Guess that means all those rumors about you were just… your own little invention?" he asked, noting how Celeste and the rest of the crew stood frozen, not daring to interfere.

Hollow shrugged with casual indifference. "Think I lied to you all? Nah. I just gave you a quick highlight reel of who I am, dear guests. I'm just some ordinary guy who tricked you into thinking this was a 'royal' household, when really it's more like a haunted house. The actual noble family? I slaughtered them right here with my own hands. After cleaning them out, I figured, why not make it my own cozy little hideout? And look at me now—living in a virtual palace, surrounded by people I've basically turned into slaves. Even you ended up cooking for me, never realizing what was actually going on."

"Oh, and here's another fun little detail—those so-called royal guards? Just my puppets on a string. And Mendy? That pathetic excuse for a doll? Yeah, I made sure Stitch got screwed over by that worthless straw toy. What, did you actually believe some filthy little orphan with no parents, no family, and rags for clothes would be welcomed into a noble household? Please. No one in their right mind would want a useless stray like her stinking up the place. The only thing she's good for is sewing, and even that's just because she's too dumb to do anything else. She's so far gone from that curse, she actually thinks she has friends—Pippin? Nia? Yeah right, just a bunch of imaginary nobodies she made up to keep herself from losing what little mind she's got left."

Hollow's cruel words about Stitch and her life slowly but surely got under Ralphie's skin. Yet, rather than lash out verbally, he let his actions do the talking.

"You really think it's okay to call a woman messed up and ugly? That's not how you treat a lady," Ralphie shot back, his voice sharp and cutting. Without hesitation, he pivoted on his right foot, spinning as he swung his other leg in a swift arc. Hollow, however, effortlessly floated back like a drifting piece of paper, avoiding the attack with ease and widening the gap between them.

Even so, the smug grin never left Hollow's face. He remained unfazed, watching Ralphie with amusement as he let out a slow whistle. "Well, aren't you a fiery little cook," he mocked, his tone dripping with condescension. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew wasted no time, closing in on him, weapons at the ready, surrounding their enemy from all sides.

To be continued...