Long ago, when ages were shadow and memory, statues were carved from stone and silence—figures charged with power to defy the boundaries of space itself. These were the Translocars, wondrous relics revered and ranked by their magic and the reach of their journeys. The Bronze Wayfinder ferried mortals across continents, always earthbound. The Silver Bridger crossed between neighboring worlds, its passage dared by only the boldest. The Golden Shifter was said to bend time itself for those who possessed sacred relics. The Obsidian Oracle slipped between dream and dimension, returning with secrets never meant for mortal minds. Small and unsettling, the Eclipsed Relic had a legend of immeasurable power; it could hurl the living into universes beyond imagining, yet only ancient keys could unlock such infinity. Time eroded these legends, until stories of Translocars became dust and rumor, forgotten by all but shadows.
Beneath a vast, storm-lit sky, Earth spun as a fragile sapphire below the swirling black. The view dropped, plunging through rain streaked across battered rooftops of an unremarkable village, wind rattling fences, thunder rolling far off. At the village's edge, a lonely house shivered amid the storm; yellow light bled from its windows, barely reaching the tangled paths outside. The air inside was thick with the scent of wet stone, mold, and the hunger that clings where hope thins.
A thin boy waited here—skin pale as candle wax, cheekbones sharp from days without fresh bread. Scars patterned his arms and jaw, silent records of small battles: a crust won, a bruise earned, a night survived. Noctis, called artificial for the midnight eyes flecked with white—they were his alone, a strange beauty inherited not by birth, but by endurance.
That night, the wind clawed at the door and Magi's voice threaded through the shadow: "Noctis! Noctis, come here!" Her words were urgent, scraped raw and impatient—the hunt for food could not wait. Noctis lingered at the threshold, memories haunting him with sharp edges; he remembered the day his parents handed him away to a wealthy stranger for the promise of coins. Betrayal tasted colder than hunger and settled deeper than any bruise.
But hunger pressed, and so Noctis rose, quiet and steady. Hours later, he, Magi, and Rob huddled on a crumbling balcony above a weary restaurant. The smell of roasting meat and trash mingled in the rain. "Wait for the server to toss scraps," Magi whispered, her voice taut. "Then grab what you can before he notices." Rob's eyes darted, nerves alive. The plan was simple—desperation makes for clever thieves.
The server came, dumping peelings and crusts into the bin before vanishing again. Their hearts thudded. Rob snatched bread, Magi grasped carrots, Noctis reached—then the door crashed open, the server's rage slicing the air. "Thieve! Where are your friends, boy?" Noctis froze, shoulders hunched. "I—I don't know." The answer brought fury; the man shook him and struck out, driving pain and panic into Noctis's world.
Darkness claimed him—memories following. Back in a stranger's home, his mother's trembling hands brushing his hair, promising bravery when only abandonment lay ahead. The rich man's grip dragged Noctis into a future of loss behind a closing door. Pain and rain blurred together, his heart quiet beneath the weight of betrayal and hunger.
When he awoke, agony seared through him; every breath carried pain and memory. But he forced himself up, scavenged bruised vegetables and bread from the bin, and limped home. Magi's worried eyes met him at the door, the stale scent of worry and relief mixing as Noctis handed her the food. Rob hovered, silent and tense.
That night, the three sat in awkward silence on cold floorboards. Magi kept close to Rob; Noctis, gentle but strange, offered food and tried to ease the chill with a timid smile. "Maybe we'll find something sweet tomorrow," he offered, voice fragile. Magi's bitterness cut through, and Rob gave only a tense nod. Their trust was thin, their hearts guarded.
After the meager meal, as candlelight shrank to a small, golden puddle, Noctis spoke softly: "Promise we'll stay together. No matter how bad it gets." Rob's voice was thick: "Fine. I promise." Magi whispered agreement, her eyes shiny with tired hope. As night wrapped around them, the fragile oath kept loneliness at bay for a single night.