Chapter Text
Bam has a Voice in his head. He can recall it as effortlessly as his own and map out every distinctive nuance that differs from it. Where his was pitched a little higher and would bounce around until it grew faint, The Voice was surprisingly deep. It was a drawl that sent goosebumps skating over his arms and a lilt that sounded confident, if not arrogant. It was a comfort to hear it in his home of boundless darkness that embraced him with arms that sent him shivering. It was dangerous, cold, and dark, but it was all he has ever known.
Well, the cave and The Voice.
Don’t step here, it would say just as he was about to feel the bottoming out of his stomach at the feeling of a drop that would have, without a doubt, ended him right then and there. He could hear it as it would tell him off with a tone that he could almost fool himself into thinking was fond as he spends hours upon hours slaving over using one of the creatures that managed to sneak its way into his cave as food.
It’s to survive, it would reason. And so Bam endures another day. He holds out with the help of his wits and the Voice that guided him. He survives, but he hates it.
The loneliness is what he feels the hardest. Not the constant darkness, as suffocating as it is to be unable to see his own two hands save for its outline, nor his inability to find food—he always seems to find enough to slow the inevitability of starvation. Because eventually, he adapts to all of this. His eyesight adjusts so he now sees a reasonable distance away in the dark, and he conserves energy by not moving much at all.
The silence, the quiet that attests to his lack of companionship, was dreadful, but he persevered. Bam persevered because there was nothing else to do but.
He spends his days with The Voice as his closest companion for years and years. It occurred to him very early on that striking a conversation with it was beyond the realm of possibility. After various attempts, he found no back and forth that could come from speaking to it. He realized that the Voice was just him. He was alone with a faux-companion as a reminder of how utterly alone he is. However, as jarring as it was to realize this, he soon accepted it as just another fact of life.
Bam lives in a cave.
Bam has never seen anyone else like him.
Bam has a voice in his head.
All normal things.
Regardless, Bam found comfort in The Voice. If he did not think about it too much, he could pretend that someone else was there, and not just a figment of his imagination. He could envision a face to the Voice, that was there keeping him company in the darkness. On his worst days, he would spend hours staring up at the ceiling of his cave, and wonder.
Would The Voice have long hair like his?
Would they have friends?
Would they want to be his friend in the first place?
He thinks of the Voice when he thinks of his face. As he presses a finger to his jaw, feeling the sharpness of the dip from his ear down to his chin, he imagines what it would be like to do the same thing to them. And even as he lifts his finger to the soft curve of his dirt-ladened cheek, hollowed slightly from malnutrition, he wonders. He would then move his hand to his hair, feeling matted down brown hair covered in dirt and tangles and what have yous, and frown. He did not like the feeling of his hair, greasy and disheveled beyond repair, nor the hollowness of his cheeks. He licked his lips, cracked and bleeding thrice over from lack of water.
He doubts its owner would be anything like him then, or he hopes so. The Voice was beautiful— burrowing itself in the crevice of his heart and making its home there— and so he imagines the owner is the same. Bam thinks of lips, soft and supple, pulled into a smile, something to match the arrogant lilt of the Voice. He thinks of hair untangled and clean, with a silky smoothness like water flowing through his fingers. He thinks of cheeks just a little fuller than his and warm.
He could never hate them.
He would love to meet them.
He would for sure adore the owner of this Voice.
He wondered, for a moment, if they would continue to make sure he was all right as their voice does in his head.
Bam wants to meet them. However, he had to leave the cave to meet them. He continues to stare. From his eye level, he could only make sense of darkness, and that only the presence of stalagmites and leaks was the only proof he had that the ceiling even existed in the first place.
He takes a shuddering breath. He stands. He picks up a rock with a grunt and moves toward the center of the cave. He places it down, and he begins the most arduous task he has yet to face so far.
Bam breaks the ceiling of his cave soon after, stumbling down the moment it finally gives. And from the bottom of his small mountain of rocks, he stares up at the hole he made up on the ceiling. There, in golden light that reflected off blonde locks and who peered down at him from the hole he made, was a person. At that moment, he could do nothing but gape, hoping against all hope that they were the owner of The Voice.
“Hello? Is anyone there? Are you alright?”
They were not.
“I wish I had a soulmate, Bam,” she said, smiling a little to herself as she turned her face towards him, her honey-dew eyes sparkling as soon as she finished drawing two stars on the cave wall with a small, sharp stone. “It means that someone is out there, destined for you. A perfect match. Almost like the stars ordained it.” She sighed dreamily at her handiwork, hand reaching up to trace the outline of her creation.
He blinked at her. She always did things like this. After a fair few months since Rachel found him in his cave, Bam can safely say that he has made his very first friend. She smiled at him and taught him everything she could teach him about the outside. It ranged from the most basic of things, such as reading and writing. She spent an entire morning bringing in armfuls of books for him to read and the rest of the afternoon carefully pronouncing words for him and telling them what they mean. He loves those moments with her, and he could never fully repay her for what she does for him.
However, she always seemed to speak in big words that she never taught him, but he did recognize the word "stars." She always seems to regard them so fondly. He figured that it must be worthwhile to make her sigh so longingly.
However, he already knew what stars were. What he didn’t know was—
“How do you know if you have a soulmate then? Maybe we are soulmates!”
She turned to him, giving him a brief critical look, her gold eyes briefly turning to flintstones before she laughed, shaking her head. “Of course We are not soulmates, Bam! I already told you, I do not have one.”
“Oh.” He hoped his disappointment was not too apparent. “How can you tell?”
“Well,” she began, dropping the stone she was using and dusting her hands off on the apron of her skirt. “Legends have it that those assigned a soulmate, there is a voice in their heads. That voice is supposedly the voice of their soulmate.”
“Really?!” He exclaimed, lips widening into a bright smile. The owner of the Voice was his soulmate!
Rachel nodded, cocking her head a little to the side. “Well, that is what they say anyway. It is rare to have a soulmate. Only those who are truly special get to have one.”
The way she said special sounded odd to his ears, and the Voice did not hesitate to take note of it. It was like an audible tsk in his head. He almost wanted to giggle. However, he was too excited over the prospect of meeting the person with the Voice in his head. Would the owner of the Voice like him? Ordained by the stars or not?
“I have a Voice in my head, Rachel. So does that mean I have a soulmate?”
A pause. In Bam's excitement, he hardly noticed.
“Are you sure that the voice isn't just you? Because if so, then that is normal Bam—”
"But it isn't, Rachel!"
She paused, her eyes widening at him. He has never shouted at her or even raised his voice before. He swallowed, taking a shaky breath, and whispering in a softer voice:
"The Voice sounds different. I know it isn't me."
Bam looked up at her through dark lashes, watching Rachel for anything. She looked surprised, mouth open and eyes wide. She was surprised, but most importantly, she was scared. He could not understand how or why she would be scared of him. Her fists were tightening into her skirt; he made a soft sound. Her distress made the last dredges of his irritation dissipate.
“Rachel—“
She cut him off with a shake of her head, and a smile was on her face once again. He sighed audibly, relieved that his friend was okay. That was all he could ever need. “So what is the Voice like, huh? Is your soulmate pretty?”
“Well, the Voice does sound nice and pretty… It sounds confident and deep. I like it— it's comforting.”
“Deep, huh? Like a guy's?”
Bam blinked. He never thought about it, but he supposes yes, the Voice belonged to a guy. His mouth pulled into a wide grin at the thought of another puzzle piece slotting into place. He nodded his head excitedly. However, he stopped himself, seeing the odd look on her face. “Is that… a problem?”
She shrugged, lips pursing. “Well, it is a bit… odd, isn’t it?” She said like she was turning the words carefully in her mind. He was not sure he liked the sound of her talking down to him. “Though I suppose platonic soulmates are a thing.”
“Platonic?”
“It means being just friends. Nothing romantic, so no kissing, no bold declarations of love, no riding off into the sunset.”
Bam did not understand a single thing she said other than “just friends.” He would like to be friends with his soulmate, so if he wanted, he would be happy with being “just friends,” as Rachel put it. He did not understand what else she could mean.
“Oh, okay.” He nodded, smiling a little.
Rachel smiled back, and the Voice in his head hummed. It sent goosebumps down his arms.
From what Rachel has told him about it, the Tower was impressive and sprawling, taller than any mountain ever seen, and looks ripped right out of the pages of her fairy tale books she would bring him.
“If you climb the tower to the top,” she would say, her mouth pulled onto a grin that stretches from ear to ear. “You’ll find your heart’s greatest desire!”
At the time, he did not understand it at all. Why would he need to climb a tower to find his heart’s greatest desire when all he ever really desired was a friend? She was already there. She was all he needed. And so, he did not need to climb the Tower. Bam left all the idealizing to Rachel, whispering stories of water that breathed life into its very crevices and of the fairy that would guide you up to him at night.
Thus, so far, Bam did not like the Tower much at all. He feels his friend was lied to about the magnificence of the ever-elusive Tower. Considering all the stories and flights of fancy that Rachel talked about, he, quite frankly, expected more.
For starters, the first thing it did was try and rip his only friend away from him, leaving him alone in the dark once again. Desperately, he tried to catch up, running after her because he did not understand why. It sounded like Rachel wanted to leave him this entire time, but Bam was lonely and selfish beyond words. So he begged her to stay, to reconsider leaving him.
Rachel disappeared in a flash of light. Bam could not cope.
He turned into himself as he crumpled like dust in the wind and knew that this time, he would be unable to survive the oppressive hand of silence nor the days of scrounging up scraps for himself or the days of relentless boredom. Not when he had a taste of bread and cheese and fruits. Not when he had learned to read, draw, and play. Not when he had finally found a friend to talk to, to fill the silence.
Bam could not allow it.
Doors opened, and the light shone through his eyelids.
The doors shut behind him, and Bam found himself staring at what he supposes is the ceiling of an unfamiliar hallway lit up in bright red. He had never seen this much red before in his life. It was entirely different from what he was used to at home. Gone was the mix of greys and dark shadows that would have adorned his vision, and it was more than just a little bit brighter than his cave. It was beautiful in a haunted way with its flickering lights that cast shadows that danced at his feet. If he did not know what shadows already were at the point, he reckons he would have been scared. However, he could only stare as he realized how far away he was at home now.
Someone is behind you.
"I'm Headon," a voice piped up just as he turned around. The corner of their mouth tightened, likely caught off guard by how quickly he noticed them. However, Bam was too busy blinking in astoundment. He tried to wrap his head around the oddity that was Headon. He could only think of describing it like a rabbit, according to her stories. She said that animals like those were small and bright white with long ears and little, bushy tails. He frowned, tilting his head slightly.
Indeed, Headon was bright white with long ears (or he hoped they were ears) poking out of his head. However, Bam had his doubts.
For starters, he always thought hair covered every inch of a rabbit's body, but this Headon character was hairless from head to toe, sleek, and almost as tall as him. They had no bushy tail he could see and wore a dark, navy jumpsuit that stretched from their neck and across their torso. Or what looked like one, though Rachel only ever told him about it once, so he was not entirely sure if that was what it was. In his hands was a metal stick, plated in gold likely, and was as tall as he was. On the top was a heavy-looking ball of blue that reminded him of when Bam had dropped a pebble in a stagnant pool, watching as the ripples bled into vibrant blues and greens. That was the first time he truly understood what color was.
Regardless, Bam reasons that, maybe, Headon was not a rabbit after all. He decides to ask Rachel later when he catches up to her.
“I am the caretaker of the Tower. All are welcome here.”
“I’m looking for my friend, Rachel. I think she passed by here.”
Headon did not have to answer. They just smiled. It was all teeth, and he noted dully that their teeth reminded him of stalactites. Bam was reassessing his initial rabbit thought now.
“Where—“
“The answer can always be found at the top of the tower,” the caretaker replied, pointing upwards with his staff. Bam realized, belatedly as he followed where Headon directs his gaze by tilting his head, that there was no ceiling to see. It was just too high up. The only recognizable thing he could differentiate is the dark and seemingly endless expanse of reds and browns. “Will you take the test required to climb the tower?”
No, the Voice whispered into his mind as he felt the prickling sensation of danger go up to his arms. It is dangerous.
It was dangerous, but it was also Rachel . His soulmate would understand that this was his only friend, right? Besides, he did not want to be left alone again.
Bam turned around, taking in a steadying breath. Death loomed just above him, writhing in unseen water and putting the mountain he had made to reach the ceiling of his cave to shame by its sheer size. It was long and covered in silver scales that glinted as it moved. It was serpentine in its movements as it smoothly moved past him through the grates of the gate and twisted to look at him. Up close, he could make out an armored head with a long snout, two horns like a bull protruding from its scalp.
It was mesmerizing.
Belatedly, he wonders why Rachel never told him of this creature. Maybe she never even knew it existed? It felt right out of the fairy tales she would bring down into his cave with the pretty pictures. Dragons, sea serpents— that is what came to mind when it swam up to him with its glowing blue eyes, long tongue slithering out of its too wide mouth. Its eyes were huge, his head felt dwarfed from just a single eyeball, and Bam knew that all it would take was one bite to swallow him up.
He only got around two steps in before a heel slammed into his face. Bam supposes he was lucky that his nose did not break upon impact.
Ms. Yuri was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Not to say that Rachel was not pretty in her own right, but the princess looked how he expected royalty to look if royalty kicked him in the face at the first meeting. Her pleasing face, long hair that reaches well past her knees, and self-assured confidence spoke volumes of her status. She was also kind. Bam thought that was nigh unexpected coming from the Tower since his first interaction was with Headon.
Mr. Evan, on the other hand, was a whole head shorter than he was. He was skittish and fretted around Ms. Yuri incessantly and would look at him with a weird look as if he could not figure him out at all. It was a strange feeling to be under such intense scrutiny, but it was not out of malice. He was scared. He could understand that.
“What is it that you desire?” Headon asks later after Ms. Yuri gives him the Black March. He had never held anything like it before. It looks like a sword, but the princess referred to it as a needle. It was black, sleek, and highlighted with red markings. The three eyes at the hilt seemed familiar, but he could not recall from where. It was comfortable in his grasp— a buzzing, living presence in his own two hands—and he immediately felt safer, even if it was just marginally. He breathed.
In all honesty, Bam desires a lot of things. A lot of selfish things.
He desired life outside his cave, so he made a mountain out of rocks and broke himself out. He has since craved the light that came with it, the fresh air that felt so different from the stagnant cesspool of circulating oxygen in the cave.
Bam took off running without looking back, ignoring Ms. Yuri’s shouts right behind him. He was thankful for her help, he was, but this was something he had to do. He crossed the threshold of the gate and almost immediately staggered at the pressure inside; he struggled to breathe and to stand. The steel eel immediately noticed him, and he could never hope to dodge out of the way of the quickly barreling eel.
Let yourself get swallowed, the Voice whispered, and Bam listened. It did not make sense to him, but if there was one thing he could trust, it was his soulmate. He raised his head and faced the fish headfirst, feeling the moist maw of the fish close in around him.
He desired to have a friend, someone to keep him company. When Rachel came into his life, he began to think that he would never be alone again. He was, of course, wrong. He followed her to the Tower and threw himself into the mouth of the first monster he could find in the hopes of reuniting with her.
She is his everything, and he did not want to be alone anymore.
Cut yourself out of there.
Bam swung his sword down along the soft flesh of its inner cheek and pressed his entire weight down. He braced himself, feeling the lurch as the eel writhed in pain. Barely a beat passed before the fish went down with a roar, and he was free to stumble out of its mouth as it fled to care for its injuries. He succeeded.
He stumbled to the black ball at the center. He was panting as he stared down at it. Was it selfish of him to want just those things?
Bam swung the Black March, wincing as the blade hit the ball with a resounding clang that shook him from his teeth to his fingertips. It did not break. Why did it not break?! He swung down at the sword, again and again, willing it to break. He half-registers the sound of Evan yelling at him to talk to the needle, to ask it to lend him his strength. He had no idea how that would help him at all in this situation.
How about your soulmate, his mind whispers. It did not sound like the familiar and comforting timbre of his soulmate. It sounded like something far more sinister, far more selfish.
It sounded strangely like himself.
He struck the ball one more time, begging the needle to help him.
Magic burst outwards, the ball broke, and he was in a field of gold.