His bedroom could encompass three average living rooms, Kirin figured, after doing a bit of math.

Sunlight streaming in from the ornate lunette above his bed filled the vast space with a clinical white, matching the surrounding walls and floors.

It was atop the canopy structure of his bed, that Kirin perched himself to look out the lunette, overseeing a few kids his age playing bug ball.

Kirin had been observing them play for roughly a week now, everytime he took a break from his workbench.
It was a nice reprieve from the otherwise constant study and invention he dedicated himself to, before and after school.

Or heck, even during school, frequently sneaking back to his house to resume whatever failed contraption he was tinkering with that month.

This time however (and he knew he said this for nearly every project but)... he felt lucky. And he didn’t think it had anything to do with the fact that today was a very odd sort of anniversary either.

It’d been exactly four years since he had found his files, contemplating its existence on the very same canopy spot Kirin resigned himself to now.
He hadn’t been sure what to think, considering his current set of parents didn’t tend to withhold any information from him.

They told him he was adopted as soon as he could walk and talk. They told him the identities of his biological parents and gave him their photos and contact information (not that he ever used it). And if he had any further questions, they’d direct him to the extensive library downstairs with free reign.

So to find that they skimped out on the teeny tiny detail of him apparently being a failed experiment of his first parents, was a bit surprising to say the least.

All he could concretely glean from the files was that the end goal consisted of blood transfusions with some new substance; launching Kirin into months of avid research for its many names–the most popular being “Void”.
That and.. the end result consisted of a blood concentration far too weak for his first parents’ liking, resulting in his adoption shortly after.

Since that fateful discovery (and equally fateful disappearance of said files, the very next day), he researched and tested what little Void he could extract from himself, experimenting long into his youth and showing.. practically nothing for it.

He created his own playthings, mechanical toys and gizmos galore, but anything Void-related had always resulted in either disappointment or an explosion.
Usually the latter.

“Ready!”

A girl squealed as she kicked the bug ball (quite literally, a shelled insect with the perfect bouncy hide for play, sans the antennas) up into the air.

It impressively flew up high enough to almost be level with Kirin’s window, at which he laughed a bit at how clearly bewildered and frightened the bug was.

Kirin then resolved to take it as a test subject after they were done playing, realizing his unfamiliar amount of hope was in no small part due to how much fun he had building his present project.

The design resembled a gauntlet of sorts, fixed with a needle made to specifically filter out just the Void from his blood (that took about two years to finalize) and a rudimentary mount set to shoot out projectiles.

He’d always preferred hands-on mechanics, so when he couldn’t succeed connecting his Void to any spells his level, or use it as a fuel source, he finally decided to give weaponry a chance.

“Ey- give that back!”

Kirin’s ear perked at the sudden discord, scrambling down the bed and equipping his gauntlet after giving it another appraising look.
If the kids were fighting, it probably meant they’d depart soon, leaving behind the bug.

He lived on the topmost floor (attic? might be a bit much to be called an attic), taking a solid five minutes to go down all the spiraling stairs and across the gardens to the entrance gates.
Zeroing in on the lonely bug, still quivering and curled up on the street, he made his way to retrieve it…

…only to be startled back by a group of slightly older kids, bursting out one of the nearby hedges lining the gates he’d just closed.

“Gotcha!!” One of them cackled, waving around a snapped off branch in their hand, “Oh wait, look- it’s the rich kid!”

Disgruntled, Kirin still made his way toward the ball.
Seemingly stunned by this, a tall girl blocked his path,

“Hey, what’re you still standing around for?” A dismissive hand gestured to the mansion.

“Uh.” Kirin deduced from the group’s makeshift armor pads and bandanas that they were posing as a gang or something. Wouldn’t be all too surprising if their older siblings were in a real one, considering the neighborhood,
“Can you move?”

“Wow,” Some other nameless, faceless jerk scoffed, “Don’t you know us?”

Whoops, chances are they probably did go to Kirin’s school. Maybe even the same classes.
Ah well, “Nope.”

Right before Kirin could swipe the bug, a faster set of hands snatched it right up.
Son of a–

“Why’re you so obsessed with this thing?” This boy was a fair ways bigger than Kirin, reminding him of his entirely unathletic background.
“It’s just a bug ball.”

“Wait, I thought that was a pillsy ball?” Some halfing said.

“Nooo, it’s called a roller poller!” Some dwarf said.

“That’s so dumb.” Someone.

“You’re so dumb!” Said.

At this point, Kirin was getting fed up.
Unfortunately, so was the current holder of the bug,

“Ugh- shut up! You know what it is now?” He carelessly dropped the bug on the ground, raising a foot.

Kirin jumped, “Wai–”

The foot fell, crunching the bug into a spectacular splatter of semi-translucent goo and broken shell. The organs were few and minimal, but glistened all the same.
Sour laughter, “DEAD!”

Peals of delighted screams and hollers echoed down the ornately dead street as Kirin stared at the goopy mess of guts. The antennas twitched once. As did he.

How. Utterly. Annoying.

“Fine then.” Kirin bit, raising his gauntlet up to the boy.
He’d just make do instead.

“What, what- you gonna hurt us with that little thing?” The boy, left boot soiled, brazenly stepped forward as Kirin aimed, “That some kind of cast or–”

Both Kirin and the boy tumbled backwards at the ensuing impact, a large blast of Void–more than he’d ever seen before–shooting out of his gauntlet in a chaotic spray of something.. solid? Or was it liquid?? Gas even, he thought he’d caught a gust of smoke, couldn’t tell yet.

All he knew was that whatever it was, it swiftly dissipated into a stream of element-less midnight, returning to his gauntlet in thinly wisps.

“Oww!” The boy got clipped in his shoulder, leaving a nasty bruise no doubt, though no blood dampening his shirt, “What the fuck was that!!”

A bunch of other kids surged forward to defend their friend, and Kirin panicked, swinging his right arm as he scrambled back.

Another wave of Void shot out the gauntlet–Kirin realizing he clenched his fist and triggered it too late–this time splashing onto the ground and hurriedly rising up in almost crystal-like formations of spikes.

That, would’ve drawn blood.

As soon as Kirin shakily stood up, the spikes too dissipated, flickering back to the source as it did before. He looked down at his gauntlet, breathless.

From that second attack, he didn’t feel awfully drained physically or anything, but his ribcage felt peculiarly heavy and tired. What just happened? Did he just..

He just cast a spell.

Ragnar may have long since banned magic in Darth, but he’d read enough reports to know what magic fatigue would presumably feel like.
More sore bones than muscle, a gentle throb framed around his skull.

“How..?” The group of kids seemed bewildered. Any means of magic had been fully disposed of more than a century ago.

Feeling a mild headache coming on, he swallowed, carefully nodding back to the dark gates,
“...You know who my parents are. So leave.”

A classically simple warning, and after that otherworldly display, most began backing away.
All except for one.

“Or..” It was an Owlin, clad in leather and a blue silken handkerchief wrapped around a knee, “..you could leave with us.”

Kirin cocked his head, and the owlin mimicked him in either genuinity or mockery. “Why should I.”

“Uhm, because that was awesome??” The owlin abruptly hopped about,
“I’ve never seen MAGIC before!”

Suddenly aware of the potential (and highly legal) repercussions, Kirin warily hid the gauntlet and stepped back, hesitant.

“Aw cool it, we won’t tell anyone.” The owlin raised a feathery arm in oath, “This is way too sick, right guys?”

It seemed the owlin’s excitement was infectious, spreading enough for others to nod in agreement (not counting the boy still rubbing his shoulder in a grumble).

And now, Kirin had no idea on what the unearthly fuck to do.

He was no social butterfly, and never really received this much attention from his fellow peers. Never really felt a need for it either; his scrolls and workbench being more than enough to occupy him.
But upon the proposal he was surprised to feel somewhat… tempted.

In a mental coin toss, he finally accepted, walking alongside his new company and letting bygones be (mostly) bygones as he reveled in his new discovery with a discreet smile.
Void, can be willed.

-*-

“Will it.”

Murky black clung to everything like lucid tree sap.

“You are able.”

This probably isn’t real.

“Deep breath in.”

He did.

“And out.”

Taking off his mask unprompted, Kezrah took in the warm honey lights and cluttered furniture, surrounding but not touching the pitch black figure standing in midst of it all.

Mom.

“Are we done yet?” He whined, setting the plain porcelain mask aside on the couch behind him, “I’m hungry.”

“Just a bit more sweetie.” It took but a millisecond for Mom to put up her disguise again, flickering back into the sweet yet ever reclusive tabaxian Mrs. Sear everyone else knew her by,
“You were so close.”

“No I wasn’t.” He huffed, arms crossed, “I didn’t even feel anything. You said I was supposed to feel something.”

“Darling.” Mom laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing, “You were close, okay?”

Kezrah felt tempted to shrug them off, but didn’t.
He knew she was trying her best to teach him… he just, couldn’t get it.

Liel got it on her first try, and Sams on her second no problem.
As for him? It’d been.. a good two hours since he started his personal lessons, both younger sisters quickly getting bored and opting for the backwoods instead.

“One more time. Okay? Then we eat.”

Kezrah sighed, but nodded, retrieving his mask to put it back on.
Normally, the mask would have a simple line straight across where his eyes would (should) be, but tonight that opening was blocked by some thick fabric.

“...Alright.” He secured it, returning to total darkness.

“Good.” Two hands slowly guided him back to the center of the living room, firm yet impossibly gentle, “Listen well.”

Palms with no temperature held his neck, fingers tapping what little parts of his face that wasn’t voided,

“Do you feel me?”

“Yea.”

“Then you feel your jaw?”

“Yup.”

“Then you feel your tongue?”

“Yes.” Of all things, that’s the one that took the longest to discover, incited by a longing dream of sweets and meats.
With his face so thoroughly corrupted since birth, it was hard to tell which bits were his, and which bits were Void.

At this point though, he should have control over all his faculties. Goodness knows how much Mom emphasized the importance of knowing one’s body before attempting to use the Void within it.

“Remember, Void has no aim. It has no will. You must give it will.” Claws framed around the head and mask, “Open your maw.”

Complying, Kezrah opened his mouth, feeling the tension of its muscles, stretching and flexing alongside bone and ligament.

“Clamp it down.”

Slight reverberations rang through the two sets of bone higher up–his teeth–as they clacked together loudly.

“Void is condensed. Reserved. To make it stronger, control it better, you must draw it out and focus it to something. To draw it out, you must locate it.” The hands let go, leaving him untethered,
“Everything you feel, is you. Everything else in between, everything that’s nothing, is Void. Now; reach out and search that nothing. Will it to feeling so that it is yours too.”

Kezrah grunted, confused for the umpteenth time that day.
How could he make something out of nothing? Turn nothing into something? How could he feel Void??

I know, Mom’s voice seemed to surround him, I know, but try.

And he did, straining terribly to delve into that unknown yet infinite space nestled between his fangs, cheeks, chin, jaw, tongue, throat, etc.

Eating, smelling, and seeing all came naturally without issue. Many miniscule facial muscles however, seemed to evade him, such as his lips or eyelids. They were harder to discern.
Fuzzier, weaker, corrupted to near oblivion.

“AGH!” Kezrah gave up, ripping off his mask again out of frustration,
“This isn’t fair. I’m the eldest, shouldn’t it be easier for me?”

Mom tsked, about to comment on how something like a restricted face was an unusual and difficult spot to have voided; not nearly as easy to focus intent through as a punching arm or kicking leg for Liel and Sams respectively.

But before she could, she saw—

“Kezrah. Your face..!”

It was rippling. Just as it had done with his sisters, the Void now rising out of its worldly confines, simmering as the far mountains did in a heatwave. Pressing,
“What do you feel??”

Upset quickly giving way to surprise, Kezrah stopped to consider his roiling face, the more distinct muscles, the numbing yet stirring buzz thrumming through all the nothing in pinpricks that felt both strange and alive,
“Mom, it's- I think I..”

It faded in no time, but that didn’t hinder his elation, “I did it! I moved Void, it–!”

Mom scooped him up into a tight hug, smothering him in adoration, “You did my dear, you did very good.”

Their secondary witness, Pon–otherwise known as Dad–took off from his spectating spot by the kitchen to fetch everyone else, ruffling up Kezrah’s head on his way out in mildly confused but earnest congratulations.
And sure, his sisters might’ve been a little annoyed at how long they had to wait for dinner, but frankly Kezrah couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

For in that singular moment, the world had finally felt right with him, and he with it.