Chapter Text
The child realized he was a little lost.
Spoke had been wandering around the jungle for a while, his legs slowly getting tired. Earlier, he had just been walking beside the river, following its natural stream to who knows where. It was as if the fish taunted him to follow, and so he did.
Now, there he was, clenching the earring his dad gave him that morning, in the middle of the grove, stomach grumbling, with nowhere else to go.
Dad must be very worried; he has probably been walking around for hours now.
The sun was now slowly taking its leave, shrouding the skies with beautiful orange and pink hues. The soft light filtered through the jungle leaves, while what was left of it gave a fading path for Spoke to follow. Darkness formed in the corners of the heavy orchard. The crickets were now starting their nightly hymn, while the birds retreated into their nests, returning to their eggs.
Spoke wished he could do the same so easily.
The pain in the back of his head tugged on his nerves, worse than when they first arrived in the Overworld.
His skull throbbed.
It stung so much.
It had been bugging him all day, but he knew Dad would have the solution for it. Even if he needed to drink another one of those odd potions for that nagging ache to go away, he would.
His voice was already hoarse, his body seemed heavier than usual. His shoulders slumped while his knees swayed with every step he took.
“Dad…” the poor child called out to the silence of the forest; cheeks still wet with tears.
His vision was slowly fading.
Where was he?
He missed Dad.
Spoke wished he were here.
The picture of them sitting in the End formed in his mind.
Come to think of it… what did the End look like?
How did it feel?
Was it hot?
Was it populated with people?
He’d turned to his Dad and asked. But Dad wasn’t here.
He imagined— if Dad were beside him right now— how his eyebrows would be tightly knitted, and how his face would be full of worry. He’d probably be calling out Spoke’s name, urging him to fight the drowsiness he felt.
Spoke collapsed to the ground with a soft thud, his chest in heaving pain.
Suddenly, a small fiery light came into view, cutting through the obscurity of the woods. And behind it, the shadow of a desperate father.
“—are you?! Spoke?!”
The words were loud, but everything fell silent in Spoke’s head. Only the annoying sharp ringing left him feeling deaf.
“Dad… I’m here…” He mumbled against the damp grass. So small. So quiet that only the bugs heard his plea.
What did Dad look like? He thought to himself, trying to form a vision in his mind.
But only the shadow of a stranger appeared.
And so, he drifted to sleep.
They found him unconscious in the forest.
It was a miracle they even stumbled upon him. Parrot and his group were out picking fruits, doing as the chief— his father, tasked them.
It was simple. And very boring, in Parrot's personal opinion. If he were to choose, he'd be sitting in his room reading books all day, or maybe even sewing the hole in his makeshift tail. The weather was pretty harsh that day. The clouds had been pouring down since morning. But he wasn't deemed to have astronomically bad luck by his friends for no reason.
He picked up some plump sweet berries off the bush, occasionally plopping one or two into his mouth. As their baskets started to fill up with their harvest, Parrot noticed something beyond the bushes.
He silenced the whole group at once, the light chatter slowly ceasing once their gaze followed where Parrot pointed.
What seemed to be a black animal lay on the damp grass. Barely visible, but still there.
Parrot's hand quickly found his bow, the other reaching to the quiver strapped on his back. The group followed, crouching as they approached the figure. Dried leaves crunched beneath them, the patter of rain drumming against their ears. Once they reached the bush, Parrot gestured with his hands, counting down.
Three...
Two...
One...
He stood up, bow drawn, and pointed to his target.
But the figure wasn't a beast at all.
It was a boy.
He looked to be around their age, with ebony-black skin and hair that matched it. A broken halo lay on the ground, seemingly discarded. If it weren't for his flushed face and troubled expression, they would've thought he was long dead.
The group lowered their weapons, confused and undeniably scared. They hadn't seen anything like him. He didn't resemble the blobs that they usually met, and his appearance was far from human. Parrot was the only one who approached him, his movements still dripping with caution.
He knelt beside the boy, scanning his features. He bore only minor scratches and marks. Parrot noticed how the boy's bandana glowed a weak purplish hue— and how tightly he held a salmon earring. Mud was all over his clothing, stray leaves tangled with his hair as if nature was already claiming his body. A void black tail sprouted from his back, its feathered end twitching from the cold.
"What is he?!"
"Is he dead?"
"Do we tell the chief?!"
While concerned prattle erupted from the group, Parrot placed a hand on the boy's forehead.
He was alarmingly boiling.
Parrot's breaths accelerated. The boy was breathing— but barely. The child was whimpering, trembling, freezing, helpless—
And they brought him back to the village at once.
The boy's name was Spoke.
Parrot discovered it at camp while they were changing the boy's clothes. He noticed a tag that protruded from his sweater. And sure enough, it contained his personal details.
Name: SpokeIsHere
Birthday: July-14-****
A̸̛͕͗̀̔͒̓̂̽̈́͑̍͐̈́d̴͉͇͎̣͙̼̯̈́͐̄̽̈́̌̀͗̓͆͆̆̑͛͝͠͝ͅḑ̵̬̘͚̲̥̹̭͍̠̈́̿̾̋r̶̨͚̹͈̎͗̀͋̅͂̌̀̌̒̄͊̉̕͘͝͠ę̸̙̼͍͇͎̀̈́̎̿̑͑̂̀̌͂͋̀́̋ͅs̸̨̡̛͔̲̱̭͙̜̯͔̯̟̮͗̋̏̍͆͒̎̾̈̎̔͘̕͜͝ş̶̫͔̜͎͖̮̊͛̈́̀̃̌̉̌̑͐̏̑̅̃̕̚:̶͉̝̳͍̖̝̞̬̗̃̓̓͂̒̀̽͊͊̈͊̃̔͆̃̕ͅ ̵̜̗͙̳͙͎͉̓́̽̓̃̽̕͜E̷̺̼̯̙̦̭̞͖͓̎̈́̉̉͝ͅņ̵̧͍̙̹͐̋͑́̄̄̾͌͋͑̓͋̾͆̀̕͝ͅd̵̨͇͎̭̈́́̒̔̑͑̓́̎̍̌͐͘͘͝͝,̷͇̦̂̈́͑̌̓̈́͂͑̋̄ ̵̨̧̛̛͚̖̱̝̦͍̉̎͛͋̈́͛͆͠͝ͅͅM̴̢̥̝̪̯̞̠̪͔̾̿̈̈̒͑͝ͅȃ̵̫͚̪̯̯̞͎͓̼͙i̶̡̹̻̻̤̩͎͙̙̖̞͙̋͆͊̏͒͆́͒̂̅͝͝ͅn̴͍̰͎̾̒̏͗̕͝͝ ̸̟͑͐̔͐̀̌͋́̅͗́̓̂̕͝͠͠Ĭ̴̢͖̬̫̙͖̱̮̜̙̲͕̭̮̪͑̀̐͑̏̈́́̔͆̃̏̚͘͠s̸̨̙̭͚͉͙͈̻͔̲͚͕̼̰̠̎͛̈͐͛ļ̶̼̟͔͓̤̰́̀̏̀͑̊̈́̓̅̈́̈́̚͜ͅạ̵̛̛̛͕̪̔̂̇͊̂̑̃̊̕͝͝n̴̞̤͕͉͔̪̲̥̣̲̲͕̦̣̣̼̼̏̇̽ḑ̷̣͎̺̽̿̾̄͊̓̒́ͅ
̴̧̧̛̛̛̪͖̣̪͎̞͑͑̾̈́͌̽͆͜͝͝P̴̗͎̓̚a̶̧͎̗͈̦͚͕̦̘̣͇̞̭̲͙͆͜r̷̡̧̮͇̞̙̮̞̼̣̬̜̳̮̜͈͑̅̏̉̈͠é̴̪͈̥͙̯̖̬̟͓̣͇͆͆̔̄̊̊͘͘͝͝ņ̴̢̮̤͍̹͙̥͈̀̃͐̈͘̚͝͝t̴͔̠̠͎̫͖̰͎̯̐̉̈́̉͌̐̂̅͝͝͝/̵̹̩̬̌̽Ģ̷̨̱̀̋͘u̶̲͖̘͎̘̻͔̱͂́ͅa̵̡̛͎̟̻͋̈́̀͠r̷̡̝̭̙̟̟͈̩͌́̋̽̿͗͜͝d̵̦̰̰̩̙͛̎̇̽̊̆̾͐̆͊̾́̆͌i̵̡̘̗̺̬̰͌̿́͗ͅa̴̛̮͓̯̩̹͚̙̍͐̔̆͌͌̔̽͒̾͋̈́̉́͘͜ͅn̸̡̧̡͉͖͕̠̗̭̠̻̦͙̲͒͑̃̓̌͊̾͆̉̀͆̚͝:̴̡̡̬̦̩̬̠̺̙̟̯̰̺̎͆͆̀̚͘̚ͅ ̵̧̬͕͉̩͍̮̹̺͓̜͔̦̩̠̘̃̌̔̊̔̍͗̇̍̐͜M̸̳̎̒͂̐̀i̷̙̞̳͓̦͎͕͈̦̤̍̔͊͒̋̈́͑̓̓̓̉͐͘͘͠ņ̶̻̹͖̳̩̟̫͙͈͖̳̲̮̙͓͋ͅu̷͔̖̬̰̱̥̫̾͗͋̍̉̇̋̀̕̕͝t̶̨̺̪͉̦͇̞̞̥̝͉̣̖́͒̎̄͗é̷̢̡̘̲͎̜͙̫͔̭̪͔͑̿̀́͝t̶̢̛̳̦̞̻͙̩͓͇͔̬̹̅͆͆̇̏͜͝͝͝ͅͅe̷̜̭̙̗̱͎̐̆̄͑̐̕c̴͚̭̥̖̪͍̮̻̜͔̠̱̜̠͖̪̲̒̉̀͋͋̇̿͌̇̈̀̚̚͝͠ḩ̵̨͎̠̠̩̻̣͙̭̘͍̉͆̚͝
The other half was soaking wet, ink seeping through the paper. They had no way of knowing what was written on it.
Parrot sighed, sparing the boy a glance before setting aside the muddy sweater. Earlier, he attempted to remove the bandana the boy—no, Spoke — wore, but it didn't budge. As if it were glued into his head.
What a weird kid...
Spoke continued his slumber.
For two days, Spoke remained feverish and unconscious. Had it been because of the rain? They didn't know. At times, they would wake him up to feed him and give him medications, although it seemed like his brain was still processing everything. White strands of hair began to grow, which only made Spoke's case more bothering. The village chief was well aware of this and gave Spoke an unoccupied hut to stay in for the meantime.
Once his temperature slowly decreased, Parrot chose to stay near him, reading books on species and biology. Spoke would sometimes notice him and stare in silence, to the point that Parrot wondered if he was mute.
He continued this routine for weeks. Parrot would wake up early, do his assigned chores, and go to Spoke's hut carrying either a sewing kit or books. He would stay there almost all day, often alone. His friends remained creeped out and they'd prefer going out instead of reading. Parrot liked the silent company more anyway.
Until one day, he came across the passage he was looking for.
"Voidlings are creatures with dark-gray skin and empty white eyes."
Parrot's stance immediately straightened, startling Spoke. He muttered a quick apology before continuing to read.
"They possess angelic features and are known to originate from the void. There is not much existing information surrounding them due to them being a rare species, as most of them die before they find a guardian."
He closed the book.
That's it?
"That can't be everything..." Parrot rummaged through the books piled on the wooden nightstand, vigorously flipping through the pages. He continued to do so until he felt a cold hand on his arm.
He paused to look at Spoke, who shook his head. Parrot's unease gradually dissipated, and he slumped into his seat.
"Voidling... huh?" he queried, and Spoke gave a small nod.
"Anything else you can do that wasn't in the book?" Spoke averted his gaze, his fingers pulling on the edge of the crimson blanket Parrot gave him.
Parrot's exhale was heavy, but his smile remained reassuring. "That's alright."
They called him Spoke.
He first heard it when the other kids visited him. They would whisper his name like a curse to one another. And at the rare times they would cast an eye on him, their eyes were brimming with disgust. He never liked it, and the boy who stayed with him— Parrot— noticed this.
"Ignore them," he mumbled, his hands busy embroidering.
Parrot was a nice kid. He was a bit talkative, yes, but he didn't mind listening. Sometimes, he'd talk about a book he read, or something that happened that day, and Spoke would pay attention. When Parrot leaves him, he would walk around the hut, scanning through the sparsely decorated walls. The first time he did, he stood before the mirror.
He examined himself from the broken halo above his head to the gray feathered tail that flicked behind him.
So this is what I look like...
It was a mystery, why he couldn't remember anything. All he could recall was the forest and a shadow.
But he'd set aside those worries, hoping his memories would return sooner or later.
Sometimes, he would read some of the books that Parrot left him, reading to pass the time.
When he first picked up one of them, he noticed a page marked with a feather, blue and yellow blending with green. The page itself also had notes scribbled with a pencil, and it piqued Spoke's interest enough for him to read them.
"Avians are half-human and half-bird hybrids. They are a species of a wide variety, ranging from all types of birds. They possess features of birds, and most of their population is found in the amplified regions."
At the bottom of the page, there was writing saying "This is me!"
Spoke suddenly thought back to when Parrot was first sewing by his side. He was fixing a makeshift tail, something that the other kids didn't have. The other avians' tails looked natural, and they even had claws, something Parrot didn't have.
Spoke pondered the idea, but would leave it be once Parrot arrives.
One day, while Spoke entertained himself by solving a puzzle, Parrot finished the piece he was sewing. He proudly showed his work to Spoke. "Do you like it?"
What before was a plain black sweater now had a white lightning shape in its center. It was neat and brilliantly made, in Spoke's sentiment.
Something just felt... right about that sweater
Like his name; "Spoke".
Like the salmon earring left on the nightstand.
Like the voidling in the mirror.
Like a piece of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.
"...Why am I even asking? You won't—"
"I love it."
Parrot looked at Spoke like he was a ghost, jaw dropped to the floor. "W– what did you say?"
"I said I love it! Thank you, Parrot." Spoke's smile was so wide that Parrot thought he was dreaming.
"I– uhh... you're welcome...?" Spoke chuckled and pulled Parrot into a hug.
Spoke stared at the window by his bed.
Weeks after he first opened his eyes, he had never dared to open the pane. Spoke never pried on how the outside world looked. He could only imagine it through the books he read and the glimpse of greenery he'd see when someone opened the door.
Now, he could see it. He could see it without the shutters blocking his view. He could see it without the curtain filtering the light. He could see it without the judging gazes of the passersby.
He could see it.
How the leaves of the trees swayed to the harmony of the wind. How the wind carried a scent of nectar and something else that he could only describe as earthly. How the cotton-like clouds traversed the blue skies. How the flowers bloomed like the morning unfolding before his eyes.
It was magnificent.
"Yo, Spoke!"
Parrot peeped his head through the window, catching Spoke off guard. He giggled softly before continuing.
"I'll be picking fruits in the forest since Father found out I skipped yesterday. Don't worry though, I'll be back before you know it!" Spoke waved goodbye to Parrot, watching how the avian's chartreuse wings got smaller and smaller until he could almost crush him with his fingers.
He swung his legs off the bed, his feet meeting the wooden floorboards. He observed the black sweater that hung on the rickety cabinet, then looked back at Parrot.
An idea formed in his mind.
Spoke held the door handle tightly, as if he was stopping it from floating away.
This is it...
Truthfully, it felt like the other way around. Like he was seconds from flying or being swallowed by the ground. Spoke thought of backing out, of course. To return to his plain white tunic, to his bed of sticks and hay, to the thick books and puzzles Parrot let him borrow and be content with staring outside.
But he didn't.
He knew he couldn't.
He combed his hair for the hundredth time and let out a nervou breath.
Finally, he opened the door.
Spoke stepped outside, letting the sun soak his form. The morning breeze carried a warmth that settled deep into his skin. The birdsong and the chatter of the villagers were a symphony to his ears. For a moment, the gazes behind his back weren't heavy and the whispering wasn't loud.
It felt peaceful.
And for the first time since Spoke got here, he had never felt so free.
Parrot glowered at the apple in his hands like he had a personal beef with it. He wanted to crush it, step on it, use it as a target for bow practice.
Instead, he flung it into a half-filled bushel basket and didn't even bother to look at the other two, very empty ones.
Yesterday, he skipped his chores entirely to spend time with Spoke. Spoke just said his first few words the other day, and Parrot wanted to interrogate him about the matter (and maybe even ask him about his secret voidling powers). But his attempt fell flat when Spoke chose not to utter a single word. Not to mention, his friends ratted him out, too.
If only Spoke were here, this would be way more enjoyable. Maybe they'll solve a couple of puzzles or make apple bunnies. Only if Spoke didn't stay in that hut all day...
"Hey, Parrot!"
Oh... he can already hear Spoke's voice inside his head. He'd probably go insane if he didn't finish this sooner.
"Yooo? ParrotX2?"
This time, a familiar hand waved in front of his face. He turned to see Spoke beside him, wearing his brand-new sweater and grinning.
He squinted his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm going insane..."
The scarily vivid image of Spoke rolled its eyes, and after a few moments...
SLAP!
Spoke's cold palm collided with Parrot's face with a strong force. It was so fast that Parrot didn't even have time to react. He clutched his burning red cheek.
"Ow! What the hell–" He glared at Spoke who only smirked at him. The pain felt so real...
Wait...
Spoke slapped him?
Does this mean...?
Parrot stopped entirely. He blinked once, twice, rubbed his eyes before blinking a hundred times more.
"Spoke?" He laughed, a tad bit delirious.
"Finally, dude! Thought you didn't recognize me." Spoke stretched out and picked a pear off a low branch. He glanced at the baskets behind them, grimacing at the sight. "Geez, you messed up big time." He threw it in and climbed a nearby ladder to gather more.
"Wait– huh??? What are you doing here?" Spoke chucked him a pomegranate and two, tossing one to the air while thinking about the question.
"Well, staying in the hut was really boring, and I wanted to help." He went down the ladder and approached the fence, picking off grapes fresh from the vine. "See?" The basket was immediately full, and Parrot was very impressed.
"Plus..." he reached for Parrot's shoulder and simpered. "It's really nice out here."
Parrot noticed how Spoke looked so... carefree. Like a bird out of its cage. His smile was a radiant light. He savored every moment like it was his last. He observed the tree, picking ripe fruits as if it were for a feast. Even the dark circles under his eyes were gone.
They continued on the task for a while, joking around while slowly filling up the baskets, until Spoke's gaze caught something else.
"Then I said, just give me six months!" Parrot laughed, expecting a witty reply to follow from the voidling, but none came. "Spoke?"
The latter stared off into the distance, looking towards the sky. Parrot approached him, trying to see what he was watching.
Oh...
It was a group of avians, soaring through the fields. The sound of wings flapping across the air never echoed so loudly.
Parrot saw how Spoke's eyes glimmered at the sight, and a question slipped through his tongue.
"Do you know how to fly...?"
Spoke's gaze dropped to the pomegranate he was holding. "No... I don't think so..." He quietly added the last part of his response, and Parrot nodded tentatively.
The avian let a few awkward moments pass by before asking.
"Do you want me to teach you...?"
Spoke tried to sneak into Mr. Minutetech's room once.
"It's just a simple, very fast trip." He convinced himself. He was determined to get one of those gray glider thingies and the red and white stuff that smelled really, really metallic. He read that wingless people use them to fly, and he wanted to test it out.
He shut the door to his room with a soft thud and started to walk— no, tiptoe— to Mr. Minute's quarters. He needed to be silent as a mouse or else—
"What are you doing?" Mr. Minutetech's large, familiar hand was suddenly on his shoulder, a weight that made him jolt.
And just like that, he was caught.
"N– nothing, uhm, Sir!" He slowly turned to his guardian, whose lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked at Spoke, then to his bedroom door. "I should go–"
"Are you trying to sneak into my room?"
Spoke's eyes scanned the walls as if the answer he searched was etched into them. He contemplated whether he should tell the truth or lie his way out, but that simple act gave Mr. Minute all the answers he needed.
He knelt to meet Spoke's gaze, though the kid tried his best to avoid it. "Why?"
"I... wanted to fly..." Spoke murmured, his bandana turning to a deep shade of red.
"Spoke..." His guardian offered a hand, which he took. He started to lead him back to Spoke's bedroom. "Elytras and fireworks are not meant for children. Especially fireworks. What if it explodes on your face?"
"Can you teach me, then?" Mr. Minutetech opened the door and Spoke immediately jumped to his bed. His guardian followed, tucking him in. "You're still too young for that. I don't want you to fly off and get lost."
"But... I will teach you once you're older. I promise."
Spoke set his eyes on Mr Minutetech, who sat on his bed. Light seeped into the room, illuminating his expression. Or was it dark, and Spoke only imagined it? Was his guardian smiling? Did he even have a face at all?
But one thing was for certain.
At eight-years old, it was the first time Spoke met someone who broke their promise.
Spoke and Parrot reached the riverbank.
They’ve been walking for a while now, slowly leaving the village. Parrot urged Spoke to make a quick stop, telling him that he wanted to catch some fish to eat. Now, he sat on the shade of a tree, watching Parrot, pants rolled up to his thighs, wrestling with the cods.
“Gotcha!” Parrot materialized a bucket from his inventory and fetched something from the stream. After a few seconds, he took it out and hung an empty name tag on it.
Parrot moved towards him with a grin. “Tada!” The avian showed the small, baby salmon swimming in the bucket. “Now you have a pet fish, like your earring!” He pointed to the sculpture that hung on Spoke’s ear before handing the pail over. “What do you wanna call him?”
Spoke’s gaze followed the salmon swimming in the water. He dipped a finger on the bucket, and the fish curiously swam to it, inspecting the mysterious object.
In that moment, he could only think of one name.
A name perfect for his new pet.
“George.” He smiled. “I’ll call him George.”
And they continued to walk.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
The resounding noise of water falling off the edge of the cliff felt engraved to Spoke’s mind. The height felt nauseating to visualize.
“Dude, relax. This is how I learned!” Parrot wrapped his arm around Spoke’s shoulder, which only made him gulp. “Besides, there’s plenty of water at the bottom to break your fall, so you’re all good.”
“But I don’t even know how to swim!” Spoke can already feel his knees shake as he protested.
Parrot winced slightly before he coughed. “Then that’s lesson #2.” He started hovering over the earth, turning his back to leave. “Just take a deep breath, jump, spread your wings and fly. I’ll meet’cha down there!”
“Wait!” But Parrot was already long gone, now a speck waiting on the tree. Waiting for him to take the leap.
Spoke paced back and forth on the waterfall’s edge, trying his best to psych himself. Infinite what-ifs formed on his mind, eyes scanning the grass like it offered a way out. His bandana glowed green, wrapping itself around his fingers, and without thinking, he tugged.
It was very painful.
But it… helped?
He stopped walking.
His mouth slammed shut.
The screaming thoughts silenced at once.
His ragged breaths steadied.
He inspected the cliff’s edge, taking in the view, the air, everything. Spoke took a few steps back before he ran. The grass, the water, the trees, the sky; it all became a puddle of colors.
And he jumped.
Someone once told him, in a place lost in time, that Spoke was too young to fly.
That moment was eons ago, and Spoke was unable to recall a single thing about it.
“Spread your wings!” Parrot yelled, muffled by the gale that zoomed past his ears.
Spoke closed his eyes, everything felt like it was moving so agonizingly slow. He expected the cold feeling of water to come crashing down his face, or, if he was unlucky enough, his skull splitting into two once he hit a rock headfirst.
Instead, it was the same gust of wind showering his body.
He cracked his eyes open, and he was gliding over the lake. The air brushing past his feathers felt heavenly. Spoke reached out hand grazing the crystalline blue water beneath. His heart hammered with adrenaline that reached every nerve of his body.
The next moment, Parrot was beside him, colorful wings beating against the air beside Spoke’s monotonous ones. It was a perfect contrast, a dance between shades of gray and palettes of green and yellow and blue. “You’re doing it!”
“Yeah, I am!” The two laughed, now rising above the forests and the fields.
And they aimed for the skies.