Written for Tales of Symphonia Week 2017 on tumblr.

Oct. 10th - Light and Dark

Even by the time they reached Altessa's, he kept on the shackles.

"I mean I know you're our prisoner and all," Zelos said to the man, his features so utterly familiar yet so hard to place, that it was like a gnat stinging against one's scalp. "But you sure do love dressing up for the part."

Regal had seated himself just outside the door, while Zelos had offered to act as his guard while the rest convened with the dwarf. Though he sat cross-legged on the ground, his posture was stiff-backed, proper, and he knew just where to place his locked hands in his lap. All of this without any fidgeting.

This man knew how to present himself, like so many others Zelos had seen.

"It is fitting," was all Regal said, ending the conversation.

Zelos didn't take the hint. "Huh. Well that's kinda boring."

The front door opened swiftly, nearly knocking the Chosen in the face. The first out was someone small, her hair a bright pink and clashing against the muted colors of the stones that jutted from the cliff. She carried her ax in hand, like a twig held in the grip of a child.

"Is there anything we can do?" Genis asked, following quickly after Presea.

The door had slightly closed inwardly by then, allowing Zelos to recover. It then snapped open yet again, Lloyd's hand pressed against the doorknob. "We just need something to set the key crest with, and if we can find it-"

"Gah! Watch it, bud!" Zelos cried, one hand clutching his face.

Lloyd turned. "…Why are you just standing in the way then?"

Regal ignored them, eyes drawn to the girl who had decided to seat herself beside a lone tree. Genis stood near her, trying to start a conversation. But all she did in response was repeat herself. "I want to go home."

The Exsphere sat just beneath her throat. The sunlight couldn't seem to reflect against it. It was like someone had a cut a hole in her skin, revealing only nothing to be there at all.

.

.

.

"Master, I'll feel more at ease if you let me handle this." She would push against his shoulders, just lightly so, fingertips perched over the fine material of his vest. Sometimes a brush of her hand would edge close to his collar, arranging the lace so he could be more presentable. "That's why I'm here in the first place!"

It was not that Regal had a lack of servants, many to care for his barely used home, or even a lack of assistants who helped with his work organization. But Alicia tended to overtake the rooms he was using, sometimes setting aside the documents that he was still in the middle of finalizing.

"You work yourself much too hard," she would tell him, her hands deft as she removed a stack of papers from his grip.

Alicia's hair clashed with the colors of his office, a bright pink set against deep wine red and oak brown. It was hard for Regal to ignore her presence whenever she entered the room, despite her light footsteps, barely making an imprint on the plush carpets.

It was on one particular morning that she handed him a letter.

"Master Regal, look!" She rushed out to him as she stood within a small garden atop his office building. It was a place where he liked to go to think, especially early in the day when the sun rose, its reflection seeming to extend across the whole ocean surrounding Altamira. "I got a letter from my sister."

"Ah, you've talked to me about her, haven't you?" He sat on the bench, enjoying his black tea. Alicia was a friendly girl, who didn't seem to understand the designated space between servants and their masters. It was in the training that George had taught her after all, but here she was, sidling up next to Regal so that she could show off the handwritten letter. Still, he didn't reprimand her.

"It's been years since I've received a letter from her… It's not easy getting much from Ozette to here, so this letter must be quite late since when she first sent it." She smoothed out the letter more. "She must be grown by now!"

Regal raised an eyebrow as he looked at the letter. Neatly written, though with a slant that indicated one who was not used to penmanship often. Many adults in that far-off village weren't exactly transcribers… but there was something childish about the writing.

"So, it is like we are looking into the past then?" He smiled, enjoying Alicia's puzzled look, for it made her crinkle her forehead just so, and her lips slightly part. "However older your sister is now, you can see what she has been thinking through here when she was only a child."

Alicia nodded then in understanding. "She writes how she has been helping Papa in his work. He taught her how to prepare the sacred wood, though he won't let her have an ax of her own. But she was given a dagger to whittle the wood down. She's even learned to make charms! I wish I could have seen, but she says she will send one to me in her next letter." Alicia's smiled dimmed a little. "That might be another year later or more…"

"Perhaps we can send a private messenger. One to handle your correspondence with her."

"No, Master Bryant. I can't ask that of you. And… besides." She hesitated. "Ozette is a very private place. They do not take to strangers from other towns very well. It took Papa all he could to even let me leave. I am not sure how he would react to a foreign messenger knocking at his door."

Regal decided not to pursue that front. "I understand. I just notice how often you speak of your family. I would at least like you to be able to communicate with them in a reliable manner."

"You think too much of me. I am fine! Just knowing that my sister wrote to me is enough. And, she must be busy right now anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if she has already taken over for my father's work."

She folded the letter then, placing it on her knees. "She was always the more mature out of the both of us, you know," Alicia confessed. "Papa needed someone like that, someone who doesn't get scared at the sight of sharp tools… I wonder how he's been doing. His health was not in the best shape when I left, but Presea didn't mention much of that. Perhaps he got better?"

Regal held his teacup as lightly as he could, careful to not upend it in the slightest. It would have been troublesome to spill any of the contents. Even so, Alicia would help clean up the mess. She would take the teacup from his hands, and tuck away her sister's letter for more important duties, like sweeping, organizing, and reciting George's instructions for arranging the cutlery, all by rote.

"How about we visit your family then? Would that be more suitable, if they saw a familiar face?"

Alicia turned to face him. She leaned forward, ignoring that proper distance yet again. "Oh! Do you… but your work. And I still have other lessons with George for the rest of the month."

Regal shook his head. "You have already been here for many years. You know the very layout of my home and my office inside and out. I can't even fathom what more you need to learn."

She smiled at his concern, and it was a nice sight. He wished the nagging thoughts in his head would leave. George works her too hard. I've already explained to him numerous times to leave her be. Still, that was another matter he would deal with.

"I will take a few days off. The company was designed to run without my constant presence invading it. I am not one for micromanagement."

She laughed at that. "Is that so? This morning, you didn't even let me make your tea!"

"That's very different. It is important for one to brew their own tea – a good meditative exercise, not too complex a task, but it calls the mind to pay attention the details. Such as the temperature of the water, and the length of time one must allow the tea to steep."

"I'll have you know I can make a proper cup of tea," Alicia huffed, but playfully so. That smile of hers gave it away. "Papa always had me make them."

"I do not doubt you." With a brief glance across the Altamira coastline, he was then certain of his decision. "Drinking the traditional tea in Ozette would complete my experience, especially when prepared by a resident."

It was then Alicia knew his words to be true, and she had to restrain herself from leaping into his arms. She herself knew how troublesome it would be for the tea to spill. So instead she opted to place her hands over his forearm, squeezing gently in gratitude. The letter, which she still held, pressed against him with a soft crinkling. Her eyes danced. "Thank you."

They could not pass through the dictated space just yet – not as much as either one would prefer. But Regal hoped that with this trip to Ozette, it would give many little choice but to accept them both.

If he could meet her family, perhaps it would all be easier.

His hands shook and pulled away.

They were clenched, veins snaking around his knuckles, ready to slough off his skin and leave him draining. But his hands were already drowned out by her blood, and as he looked forward at her new and grotesque shape, with her voice crying out, he saw the damage he had made.

Like someone had cut a hole through her skin (as tough as stone, that color of murky green so diseased). The outer edges were frayed, reflecting a terrible force that he had never wanted to know, not in this way, never in this way. But he looked through, and that hole straight through her chest revealed nothing. Just a blackness, of a deeper pitch than the night sky around them, or the blood that stained the lace of his neckerchief.

There was nothing but blackness. Nothing at all.

.

.

.

"She won't leave," Raine said, one hand still covering part of her face. "There's no use trying to drag her along. She could start acting hostile to our actions, like Colette used to."

The house stunk of rot, but it was a scent that Regal had come to familiarize himself with. The others gagged slightly, some edging close to the open door for a whiff of fresh air. Ozette itself was so secluded. The gigantic trees covered nearly half the sky, isolating the town – even from the very sun.

There was so little light, both in this village and in this very home.

Presea continued walking around the dilapidated place. Her boots stepped hard on the deteriorating floorboards as she searched through drawers, arranging objects that were either there or not. Her ax was placed against the post of one of the beds, the lump underneath the sheets misshapen.

Regal kept watch of her, eyes riveted to that dark Exsphere. It did not sit well with her. An uncanny thing that latched onto her, cut out from space.

Raine's voice became more forceful. "We should go."

The rest quickly followed, though Regal lingered. Presea left the bedroom to venture into the kitchen section of the home. The stove there was a simple wood-burning stone, lacking any of the magitechnology that was common back in Altamira. He watched her arrange a dented teapot, lumping the cut wood into the stove to start kindling.

He was stopped.

"Who do you make that for?" he asked, gently.

Presea didn't answer. She moved past him to arrange the sheets of that bed, not mindful at all at how her fingertips brushed against bones and decaying flesh. Still, Regal remained still, with only a soft clinking from his shackles. Their weight was heavy – a just reminder.

When she went back to the stove, gathering leaves from a nearby clay pot, she whispered, "For my Papa." She boiled the water, keeping an eye on the flames, turning the pot just so. "He is sick. This will help him."

When she turned back, there was something in her eyes. A glimmer of something that danced, that was bright.

It convinced him then.

She took the cup with her. It steamed, and he caught the scent of deeply brewed black leaves, perhaps plucked deep within the forests as she had continued to fell trees.

Regal didn't continue to stay. He left, keeping Presea's eyes in mind, and the black hole that was her Exsphere far, far away.