from zero: the dark decent

As the years slipped by, I celebrated my third birthday, a milestone that elicited murmurs of admiration from those around me. They often remarked on my precociousness, hinting that I was a child wise beyond my years, brimming with knowledge far exceeding that of typical toddlers. Little did they know, beneath my innocent exterior, lay the remnants of a past life, and if they ever uncovered that secret, the revelation would likely send shockwaves through their world.

Since I arrived in this vibrant realm, I have come to learn a myriad of astonishing truths. For instance, magic is very much alive and pulsating in everyday life, weaving enchantment through the air like a delicate melody. There exists a genuine royal family that rules over this domain, their lineage steeped in grandeur and responsibility. And then there's my surname, Grevant—a name that feels both regal and strong. When I introduce myself as Notcis Grevant, the way it rolls off the tongue is satisfying, a harmonious blend of sounds that hints at the legacy I'm destined to carry.

One bright morning, I found myself sparring with my grandfather in the clearing near our home, the sun filtering through the trees and casting dappled light on the ground. My small hands gripped the wooden training sword tightly, and sweat trickled down my brow as I attempted to mimic his swift and precise movements. "Grandfather, this is hard!" I blurted, panting as I struggled to keep up. His sharp eyes glinted with amusement, but his tone was stern as he barked, "Shut up, child! You carry my blood, and that means you must be skilled with a sword!" Without warning, he lunged at me, his strike swift and decisive. I barely managed to block, the force of the blow sending me staggering to the side. My feet skidded across the dirt, and I tumbled to the ground with a thud. "Ow! Grandfather, that hurt!" I protested, brushing dirt off my face. But my frustration only fueled my determination. I scrambled to my feet and charged at him, summoning all the strength I could muster. My tiny body coiled with energy as I swung my sword down from above, my heart pounding in my chest. "Too slow, and too weak!" he barked, deflecting my strike effortlessly. His sword met mine with a metallic clang, and before I could recover, he lashed out with a kick that knocked me backward. I stumbled and hit the ground face-first, spitting out a mouthful of dust. My cheeks burned with both pain and humiliation.

Pushing myself up, I clenched my fists. My bruises throbbed, but my resolve burned brighter than ever. My grandfather chuckled, extending a calloused hand toward me. "You're tougher than you look, Notcis," he said, his voice filled with both pride and challenge. I grabbed his hand and let him pull me up. "Next time, I'll surprise you," I declared with a grin, my eyes gleaming with determination. Taking my stance again, I raised my sword, trembling but ready. "Get ready, kid. I won't go easy this time," he warned, his expression sharpening as he prepared his blade. Without hesitation, he charged at me, his movements a flawless display of precision and power. My heart leapt into my throat. Panic surged through me, but instinct took over. "Earth Wall!" I shouted, my voice cracking with desperation. The ground rumbled beneath us, and suddenly a barrier of stone erupted between us. Grandfather skidded to a halt, his eyes widening in shock. His sword struck the wall and became wedged tightly in its rough surface.

"How can you use magic!?" he demanded, his voice thick with annoyance and surprise. He yanked at his sword, but it wouldn't budge. Seizing the moment, I scrambled up the wall, creating small footholds with quick flicks of my hand. My fingers clung to the rough stone as I climbed, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Reaching the top, I grinned down at him. "I'm gonna get you, Grandfather!" I yelled, leaping off the wall with my sword raised high. Grandfather reacted just in time, freeing his blade and blocking my strike with a loud clang. "You're a sneaky one, aren't ya!" he said, grinning despite himself. With a powerful shove, he pushed me back, and I stumbled, nearly losing my balance.

My chest heaved, my three-year-old body teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Yet, something inside me refused to quit. Summoning the last reserves of my strength, I steadied myself and charged forward once more, my tiny shoes kicking up dust as they pounded against the ground. Grandfather laughed heartily, the sound echoing through the clearing. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he sidestepped my attack, his movements as fluid as water. "You may be smaller, but I see you're just as stubborn as me," he teased. "I won't give up!" I shouted, my voice ringing with fierce conviction. Each swing of my sword was a testament to my resolve, my determination unwavering. Despite the aching in my muscles and the weight of the bruises, I pressed on, fueled by the thrill of the fight and the desire to prove myself.

A sudden shout cut through the air, ringing out with a mix of excitement and urgency. "Noctis! My precious brother!" I turned toward the voice, my little three-year-old heart leaping with both surprise and curiosity. There she was—my sister, Lilith—her delicate frame contrasting against the rugged path she was trying to navigate. She clutched the edges of her flowing skirt, lifting it high enough to avoid the mud beneath her hurried steps. Her heels clattered awkwardly against the uneven ground as she half-ran, half-stumbled toward me, her long auburn hair bouncing wildly around her flushed face.

"What do you want, sis?" I squeaked, my voice high and childish, a reminder of my tender age. My head barely reached her waist, and yet she treated me as if I were the centre of her universe. Lilith finally reached me, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. At twelve, she was on the cusp of adulthood by the standards of this world, yet her sparkling eyes and childlike grin betrayed a mind still brimming with youthful mischief.

"Do you know how hard it is to run in heels, you a little troublemaker?" she huffed, though her tone was playful. Despite her attempts at elegance, mud-splattered her dress, and I could see the faint frustration tugging at the corners of her lips. Still, her expression softened the moment she looked down at me. I could tell by the way her hands rested on her hips that she had something to say—or something to scold me for.

"So, I can't believe you made me come all the way out here!" Lilith huffed, her arms crossed over her chest and her delicate brows furrowed in indignation. She looked utterly exasperated, though the mud on her dress and the flush in her cheeks hinted at the effort it had taken her to get here. I blinked at her, completely dumbfounded. "I didn't do anything," I protested, my small hands gesturing toward my wooden training sword. "I was just training with Grandfather!" A few meters away, Grandfather stood with his arms folded, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement. His lips twitched as if he was holding back a laugh. "Well, you should have known I wanted to play with you!" Lilith snapped, her tone edging on the unreasonable. Her red eyes sparkled with a mixture of frustration and childish petulance as if her expectations were the most natural thing in the world.

I stared at her, my young mind struggling to process her logic. She looked utterly delusional to me. Still, I sighed in resignation, knowing there was no winning against her when she got like this. "Fine," I muttered, "I'll come play with you." Turning toward Grandfather, I gave him an apologetic bow. "Grandfather, I'm sorry, but Big Sis wants me to play, and she's relentless about this stuff."

Grandfather chuckled, his deep voice carrying a note of fond exasperation. "Eh, it's fine, kiddo," he said, waving me off. His weathered face softened as he glanced at Lilith. "Your sister's always been persistent—relentless, really," he added, his tone tinged with nostalgia. His gaze seemed to drift far away, no doubt recalling a time when she was even younger, though just as demanding.

Lilith puffed out her chest in triumph and flicks her white long hair, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. "Good! Now let's go before you find another excuse!" she declared, grabbing my hand and tugging me along. Her energy was infectious, and despite myself, I couldn't help but smile as I followed her lead. "So, Sis, what are we gonna be playing?" I asked, my voice tinged with both curiosity and dread as I stumbled along behind her. Lilith had my arm firmly in her grip, practically dragging me across the uneven ground. My short legs struggled to keep up with her determined pace, the occasional rock or root causing me to trip and nearly fall.

She glanced back at me, her long hair whipping around her flushed face as she nearly lost her balance. "I was thinking we could play with dolls—or maybe a game of chess!" she exclaimed, her tone far too cheerful for my liking. Without waiting for my response, she turned and continued toward the house, her pace quickening as though the thought of playtime couldn't wait a second longer.

I blinked, stumbling again as her words sank in. "Dolls or chess?!" I blurted, my voice cracking slightly. My cheeks flushed a deep red as I imagined myself sitting among her collection of dolls. "I've never played chess before! And why dolls?!" I protested, my tone growing higher with embarrassment. The mere thought of playing with dolls made me feel like my masculinity was about to be utterly destroyed. Lilith glanced back over her shoulder again, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "What's wrong with dolls? They're fun! And besides, they don't judge you," she teased, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "As for chess, well, I thought it might be good for your little brain. You might even beat me—though I doubt it," she added with a mockingly confident toss of her hair. I groaned, my small hands covering my face to hide the heat radiating from my cheeks. "Can't we do something else? Like, I don't know, swordplay?" I suggested hopefully, trying to steer her away from these perilous choices.

Lilith stopped abruptly, spinning around to face me with a dramatic gasp. "Swordplay? Again? You already got to train with Grandfather! I had to sit in my room alone and wait for you, so now it's my turn to pick." Her pout deepened, and she placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot for emphasis. Defeated, I let out a sigh. "Fine," I muttered, dragging my feet as we resumed our walk. "But just so you know, I'm terrible at chess, and I'm definitely not playing dolls for long."

Lilith laughed, the sound light and carefree as she pulled me closer. "Oh, don't worry, Noctis. I'll teach you. And who knows? You might even enjoy it."

Despite my embarrassment, a small part of me softened at her enthusiasm. Even if her choices were… questionable, I couldn't deny that her sheer excitement was infectious. As the house came into view, I resigned myself to whatever strange game my sister had planned, wondering just how far my patience would be tested. We spend hours lost in the world of play, her room a haven of imagination and mischief. The dolls come first, their lives intertwined in stories we create—princesses, knights, and secret alliances that only we understand. When the tales run their course, we turn to chess, the clinking of pieces on the wooden board the only sound as we strategize, each move a silent challenge. The intensity melts into laughter when we switch to hide-and-seek, her room transforming into a labyrinth of secret nooks and soft shadows. I can feel the thrill of hiding, my heartbeat racing as I hear her footsteps draw near. The spell of our games breaks when the maid enters. She stands in the doorway, her expression kind but firm, a quiet authority in her presence. "Time for bed," she says softly, taking my hand and guiding me out of the warmth of our shared world. My feet drag against the plush carpet as she leads me to my room. The bed feels too big and too empty as she tucks me in, her whispered goodnight barely brushing the edges of my thoughts. Yet sleep doesn't come. The stillness of the room amplifies every sound, and soon I hear my parents' voices drifting through the thin walls. Their conversation is measured but unmistakable, each word sinking deep into me. They talk about me—about my future. "In two years, we'll send her to school," my mother says, her tone practical, almost detached. My father agrees, adding something about opportunity and the hope that I will bring them wealth someday. Their words twist inside me, heavy and unfamiliar. I don't fully understand what they mean, but I know it's not about me, not truly. It's about what I can do for them, what I can become in their eyes. My chest tightens, and I strain to catch more of their voices. Then comes the phrase that cuts the deepest: "We're only lower nobles." My mother's voice is tinged with quiet resignation, a bitterness she tries to mask but fails. I lie there, staring at the dim ceiling, the weight of those words pressing down on me. Lower nobles. The term feels like an anchor, something I'm tied to but don't fully understand yet. My heart aches in a way I can't explain, a hollow yearning for something I can't name. The world feels suddenly larger, and more complicated, and I feel small in the vastness of it. As the night deepens, I close my eyes, wishing I could go back to the games, back to a time when the only thing that mattered was finding the perfect hiding spot. I slowly rock myself to sleep.