A/N: Well, I thought it's about time for a new attempt at a multi-chapter. I confess I'm not very good at them (I usually wind up getting bored and abandoning them partway through) but this time I think I have a story idea that might just work. This is probably going to be less than 10 chapters and is partially inspired by my old story Illumination (but has nothing to do with that story, plot-wise).

P.S. I've been experiencing an odd glitch lately where any reviews posted to my stories within the last few days don't seem to show up. I can still read everyone's reviews in my email notifications though, and I hope to get this problem fixed as soon as possible.

Anyway, please drop a review if you read this! Helpful criticism is, as usual, appreciated.

Enjoy!

FORLORN CHAPTER 1: A Failed Mission

A scream echoed down the twisting corridors of the mansion, bouncing off the grimy brick walls and back again with an intensity that frightened me, leaving me breathless, struggling to locate my footing. The beam from my flashlight shook and spun crazily in my trembling hand as I pointed it at the ceiling, finding nothing but old cobwebs, then down at the floor around my boots as if I were searching for something I'd dropped. A big brown spider scuttled out of a crack in the wall and ran through the circle of light, startled out of hiding by the amount of noise I was making, but besides that there was nothing.

I knew I'd seen it, though. Just a minute ago I'd very nearly had the life scared out of me by a ghost materialising in front of my face, sending me stumbling away in a panic, which had caused me to trip on something and fall flat on my back. The flashlight that had snapped off when it rolled out of my grasp was quickly snatched up again, but as much as I frantically shone the light around the corridor there was no trace of the transparent green-tinted form of the ghost.

At least it hadn't been a Boo, though I supposed all ghosts were about the same – terrifying, mischievous and prone to jumping out at you when you least expected it. Something they took great pleasure in doing to me every few minutes, leading me to wonder why I hadn't died of a heart attack yet.

As the fear slowly ebbed away, I became aware of the throbbing pain in my back where bruises would undoubtedly spring up later, as well as the violent shaking in my hands that made it impossible to keep the flashlight steady. I took a deep, calming breath and put all my willpower into stilling the tremors, straightening my legs, forcing the last vestiges of blind panic out of my system before it could erupt again.

I clambered to my feet, still a little shaky, but rather proud to be standing at all. Once more, for good measure, I swung the flashlight beam around and over my head to reassure myself that wherever that ghost had gone, it definitely wasn't in the corridor with me anymore. A relief – at least until the next one appeared to try its luck. The ghosts didn't seem afraid of me even when I burst into rooms wielding my Poltergust vacuum like a real weapon, ruthlessly sucking up everything in my path until the place was not only spirit-free, but dust-and-dirt-free as well. I wondered why they didn't show at least a measure of caution, considering I did have the ability to destroy them in mere seconds – but maybe, as members of the undead, they simply didn't feel any need to be scared.

I wished I could be a little more like them.

Shaking off the remnants of my fear, I set off down the dark corridor in the direction I'd been heading right before the ghost showed up. I might not have minded being in the mansion so much if it were more comfortable. As it was, the stale air – especially this far underground in the cellar areas – was choking me, and the cold was starting to seep into my bones and muscles so I could barely move. I felt ten years older since before I'd come here, stiff and sore and desperate to just get out so I could curl up in front of a crackling fireplace and enjoy a nice warm mug of cocoa.

My nerves were destroyed from hours of walking in the near-complete darkness, knowing that at any moment another ghost could appear and scare the wits out of me. I never grew accustomed to them, no matter how many times they played tricks on me and tested my courage by leaping out of nowhere and shrieking in my face, then melting back into the walls or ceiling before my trembling hands could get a good grip on the Poltergust. I was sure that even if I succeeded in doing what I'd first come here to accomplish – rescuing my brother Mario and escaping the mansion alive – I was going to have nightmares about this place for the rest of my days.

Shut up, Luigi! I told myself as I reached the end of the corridor and stretched out my free hand to grab the doorknob, noticing that while it was quite smooth and shiny, its surface was coated in so much dust that my reflection was just an indistinct figure. Soon we'll be out of here, with Mario. Just hang in there a little longer. Only one silly Boo left to catch... I wasn't sure if I should be worried by the fact that I was, for all intents and purposes, talking to my own mind. But I guess if it made me feel even slightly reassured...

The door creaked painfully as it swung open, and I quickly took note of how rusty the hinges were. Pushing the door open took a lot more strength that it should have done; I wouldn't be able to rely on it as a quick escape route.

The room I set foot into was large, containing four pillars that stretched from floor to ceiling. Before I had time to marvel at the intricate patterns carved into the stone, I spotted something up ahead that made me freeze for a split second. Then I was charging forwards recklessly, heedless of whatever traps and monsters might lie in my path, the beam of my flashlight playing across the wall. And then I stopped completely and just stood there for what felt like several minutes, panting for breath and gazing up in silent wonder at the huge painting in front of me.

It was as nearly as tall as myself, with an engraved bronze frame, and looked too big and heavy to carry. But what caught my attention more than anything else was the portrait itself. It showed the face of a man with a bright red cap on his head and a thick mustache that clearly hadn't been cared for. He was actually moving, two white-gloved fists reaching out to tap desperately on the transparent wall of his prison. Tired blue eyes stared feverishly back at me through the canvas but didn't seem capable of focusing on anything, or indeed seeing me, for his gaze was fixed somewhere a few inches over my head and the cloudiness in those eyes told me that he wasn't really seeing a thing. Black shadows lay draped beneath them, and what little of his mouth that was visible under the mustache looked drawn, grim, and obviously hadn't cracked a smile in days.

I knew this man. He was my brother. This was Mario.

He doesn't even know I'm here. Instinctively, I stretched my arm up as far as I could and gently touched the smooth canvas just to the left of his face. When nothing happened, I tapped a finger against the bronze frame, then a little harder. No response. Bile rose in my throat and I had to force myself to keep motionless and watch the man in the painting, every muscle in my body longing to either run out of the room or seize the canvas off the wall. What have they done to him?! He can't see me... it's like he's trapped there, but why can't he see through the painting?

More than anything, I couldn't understand why I'd been able to enter this room completely unchallenged. Mario's painting should have been heavily guarded by ghosts, maybe even by the terrifying King Boo himself, yet I'd practically breezed in here without a hint of resistance. Why? Had the King not even expected me to survive to this point? I shivered at the realisation that, if the Boos didn't know I was already here, they would probably be furious when they discovered the truth. But I hoped that by the time they noticed the painting was gone, I'd be long gone myself.

The trembling in my hands renewed as I moved forwards to pull the painting down from the wall. I wasn't short by any means, but I still had to stretch up on my toes to get a grip on the canvas, grunting with effort when it came free and all of its considerable weight fell upon me at once. I was incredibly careful to avoid damaging it as I shoved it under my free arm and turned around to face the open door. I had no idea what effect it would have on Mario if I accidentally tore the delicate canvas or broke the entire painting into pieces. Would it kill him? I didn't know, and sincerely hoped I'd never have to test the theory.

The room remained silent as a tomb as I walked back towards the doorway, the heavy painting pressed against the side of my body and my flashlight clearing a path through the darkness ahead. I was starting to feel quietly elated; maybe I'd actually make it out of the mansion without any ghosts spotting me, and I wouldn't have to do battle with King Boo in order to escape. Secretly, beyond all my other assorted fears, fighting the king of the ghosts had been my worst one, tied with finding Mario dead.

The doorway loomed before me, somehow taller than it had looked from the opposite side, and nothing but darkness was visible over its threshold. Even the flashlight didn't seem able to pierce the opaque shadows. That alone should have made me pause and think, if only for a moment, but I was so happy at finding my brother – maybe not in perfect condition, but unmistakably alive – that my usual caution had fled. I walked forwards without slowing, even when it became apparent that something besides just darkness was waiting for me.

I was a step away from the threshold when the ghost materialised. First there was nothing, then out of nowhere the sickly greenish light exploded in front of my face and reformed itself into the hideous smiling face of my worst nightmare. Its pupilless yellow eyes were only a couple of inches from mine, yet it seemed to take me an unreasonably long time to react to its appearance.

Then I threw myself backwards onto the floor, unwittingly landing on top of Mario's portrait. Right then I wasn't even thinking for my brother. I scrabbled back even further, pushing myself along with my hands and feet as the ghost advanced menacingly, raising one of its huge fists to attack. It was the same ghost that had ambushed me in the corridor earlier, or at least it looked the same, and I didn't consider myself an expert at recognising ghost species anyhow.

'G-get away!' I yelped, my voice sounding two high even to my own ears. I'd snatched up Mario's painting and dragged it along the floor with me, but I didn't dare look away from the approaching ghost long enough to inspect it for damage. Abruptly my shoulders hit something hard behind me – the stone pillar. I was cornered. My panic lending itself to an act of sheer desperation, I found myself attempting to reason with the thing that wanted to kill me. 'P-please, g-go away! I-I'm sorry! I won't come b-back!'

I didn't even know for sure what I was trying to say at that point; all I wanted was for the ghost to leave me alone. I was more than a little surprised when it halted, three feet away, and watched me with an expression I might have described as contemplative if I actually believed ghosts had feelings like that.

'Luigi,' it said after a long and uncomfortable silence. My breath caught in my throat; I'd never heard any of the ghosts except Boos talk out loud before, and I didn't like it. I preferred to think of them as mindless monsters than fully intelligent beings. 'You're a sneaky one, aren't you? You'd make a great ghost.'

'N-n-no...' I mumbled, trying to edge further backwards in case the creature decided to make a sudden lunge for me.

'But King Boo has other ideas,' it continued. 'He doesn't want you dead, even though you've hurt so many of us... So many innocent ghosts trapped inside that monstrosity you call the Poltergust 3000...' Its tone sunk to a soft, threatening pitch that made my heart pound alarmingly in my chest, and I couldn't have spoken even if I knew what to say. 'Do you hear them screaming, Luigi?'

I swallowed. I heard it. The only thing I still had control of was my flashlight, which was held in a death-grip in my right hand. But even as I considered turning the full force of the beam into the ghost's face, the light suddenly flickered, stuttered – and cut out.

We were left alone together in the darkness.

'A little like your brother,' the ghost was saying. 'He screams too, Luigi. Every day and night he's been screaming for you. We watch him sometimes, his pathetic cries for help as he suffers inside that painting... He thinks you're going to save him. But you won't. Because you're weak and cowardly and you could never accomplish what your friends have done.'

'Th-that's n-not true...' I stammered, violent tremors coursing up and down my body. I felt cold, colder than before, and my fear was so absolute that I couldn't imagine feeling anything besides mind-numbing terror. 'I c-captured all those Boos by myself...'

'Ha! You've done nothing, not compared to your brother.' The green ghost laughed shortly and derisively. 'You're worthless, Luigi. You couldn't overcome your silly fears, and now, you've failed at saving your brother as well.'

Suddenly, I became aware of a strange pulling sensation in my chest. It was so bizarre that for a moment I almost forgot to be afraid, instead looking down and letting out a confused noise as I tried to figure out what was happening. Then I noticed the painting I still clutched in my other hand, and I gasped without meaning to. Mario's face was no longer there. Instead, the canvas showed swirling darkness, like a black hole – and that darkness was slowly, inexorably dragging me inside.

I cried out. I dropped the useless flashlight and instead wrapped my other arm around the stone pillar, hoping to anchor myself to the real world. I even released my grip on Mario's portrait, despite my fears for my brother's safety. The ghost looked on and laughed coldly at my struggles, obviously unaffected by whatever nameless magic was pulling me into the painting.

Mercifully, it only lasted for a few seconds. Then my mind abruptly went blank, my vision darkened, and all my other senses cut out. Nothing existed.