Book 1 (Absorption)

Chapter 1

Precious, resident glory, pride, and muse of the Fitzroy estate, turned the corner of the fourth-floor corridor on his way to the old, deteriorating bathroom where the mice still played some nights. A midnight snack, or whatever the humans called it. Cats need not check the hour.

Something creaked somewhere behind him. Precious swiveled his pretty head in the direction of the noise and witnessed a door opening that had most certainly never opened before. His eyes had adjusted to the dark a while earlier, but this Dark seeping out of the strange room felt palpable. The hairs along his body stood straight. Precious watched in horrified fascination as a large monster escaped its prison.

Precious screamed.

The child emerged from the nursery at last, and the distinct yowl delayed in reaching its ears through the enshrouding Dark. The small ball darted away. The child followed the creature’s path and came upon a staggered, broken floor. A glimpse of a tail disappeared at the lower end. The child decided it would be safe to venture further since the small white thing made it across just fine.

The child placed a foot on the highest step, and its knees promptly buckled, sending it tumbling down the remainder. The Dark swirled around the child’s bruises and swallowed the pain. The child stood, glaring at the staircase behind it.

The wind outside howled, drawing the child’s attention to the stairway’s window. A moonlight beam poked at the Dark, and the child cleared It from its vision. A streak of white dashed across the grounds just below, still meowing in fright. The child pushed against the glass. The Dark broke through and carried it down to the manor’s paved lawn.

As the child’s feet touched grass, it felt a surge of unrecognizable power unlocking from within. The awakening was excruciating, and the child fainted.

Piercing sunlight startled the child back into consciousness in the morning, though it came close to damaging its eyes. The stinging made the fresh wave of internal breaking almost unnoticeable. The child blinked, aching, and looked up. There was something quite menacing about the four-story walls of the house, with their unnaturally smooth lines. The child made to move, to leave the shadow behind the estate manor. There was no strength in its legs. It seemed that, in the throes of agony last night, the connection to the Dark had been released. The child could no longer summon It.

The child shoved at the ground. Wrist bones gave out beneath it. The child opened its mouth, expelling a silent scream that burned its lungs. Tear ducts responded, but they were empty. This child had lived off nothing but the Dark from the moment it was born and discarded. The body could not handle any of the functions the Dark had maintained. The child did not know death, but it felt fear. Deep, chilling fear.

But it could not give up. The child had to make its body obey if it was going to live. The child pushed again. And again. Crawling at first, and stumbling over its own feet many times, the child crossed manicured lawns and drew ever closer to the rush of trees. Adrenaline replaced the Dark for a moment, but there was only so much the body could muster. When it could push its legs no further, the child sat down against a tree’s base.

The child stared at the scenery in front of it. A loud, low growl tore at its stomach. A hand, resting on the ground, tickled as the life at the tree roots scuttled around it. The child clenched its fist, bringing whatever came up to its mouth. A few blades of slick grass came loose from the ground, then a few more. The child ate until it was sick and nearly injured its back. Still, it felt it had to quench the dryness in its mouth, somehow.

Two weeks passed, and the child thrived. The little creatures showed it how to navigate the trickier paths, until the bigger animals showed it how to hunt them. Unbeknownst to all of them, of course. The child learned to hide when the life in the forest searched for their meals. Though, being bigger than anything else there, the child could easily outrun or overpower the others. There were no serious threats in the forest. That is why, when the child first spotted the City Patrol Officer, it was shocked enough to trip.

The Officer, in turn, needed another minute to grasp the situation. He’d never seen a beast looking like that before. It was too humanoid. Perhaps it was a member of the Monkeys, and lost? Or one of their fling offspring? Either way, what insane episode would someone have to go through to let a tiny boy like this roam through the forest on its own? And naked, at that.

The boy inched backwards, searching for shade to conceal himself in. The CiPat Officer hurried closer to detain him. This time, the boy’s scream was audible. Hearing the fright in the child’s voice, the Officer kneeled and stretched out a hand. He nodded for the boy to take it, but he only stared from a safe distance.

“Come, I won’t hurt you. I just need to get you out of here. It’s dangerous.”

The child said nothing.

“I just want to help. I promise.”

Again, nothing. The Officer lowered his hand and chewed on his bottom lip. He pulled a notepad and pen out of his pocket to write a situation brief. In that short moment, the boy slipped through nearby trees and snuck up behind the Officer. He leaned in to crush the man’s neck with his teeth, but the Officer caught his jaw. The boy yelled out as a strong wave of pain pushed through his skull. The Officer loosened his grip, and the boy shifted to bite between the man’s fingers. As he held his face, it dawned on the Officer that the child was a small human. The teeth trying to sink into his flesh did not hurt in the slightest. The Officer grunted in realization.

“What kind of animal could do this to you, leaving you out here like this?” he muttered. The CiPat Officer lifted the child and patted the back of his head, letting him rain feeble kicks on his chest. “There, there. I’ve got you now.” The child shouted one last time, then slumped against the Officer’s shoulder in accepted defeat. “Good boy. Let’s get you to safety.”

The City Patrol Officer made a quick stop at his supervisor’s check-in before taking the boy to a City Clinic. Visitors waiting in the entry scattered in reaction to the odors carried in. A receptionist beckoned the uniform to approach out of turn, earning him more disapproving leers. A form slid across the counter.

The Officer sighed. To this day, he never had any information on the charges he brought in. He glanced sheepishly at the receptionist, who waved a hand in dismissal. “We’ll figure it out. Just leave your details on the back so I can call for you if anything goes wrong.” The Officer nodded and passed the boy to the waiting arms of the Medic. He flipped the page over, scribbling his squad rank, captain’s name, and branch location before exiting the Clinic.

The child felt dizzy. There was too much noise, the room’s smell was overwhelming, and, above all, the artificial light was inducing a throbbing headache. The large being who held him was covered in a repulsively sharp scent, but he was warm and spoke in honeyed tones.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

The boy watched the Medic’s mouth, then opened his own.

“...ah.”

An eyebrow went up. “Do you know y-”

“Aaaaaaaa...” the boy interrupted. The Medic tried again. The child’s voice grew into a shout, continuing even as the Medic carried him into an examination room, set him down, and pushed his hair away from his face. The Medic clicked his tongue, then left to fetch a wet towel. The child’s throat was hoarse, cracking every few seconds. The Medic, hearing the roughness from the hallway, picked up a glass as well and tried to give the boy water to drink. Instead, he yanked on the Medic’s hand, knocking the cup out and letting it shatter on the floor. He leaned in to take a bite of the now empty hand, feeling a sudden burst of agony and an urgent sense of danger. The Medic locked the child’s wrists in a tight grip and pinned them to the chair. He called for assistance.

Soon after, a woman appeared with a cheese sandwich. The food was shoved into the screaming boy’s open mouth and his eyes grew wide. Two turkey sandwich packs were brought in, and then another - tuna. The child ate every crumb and accepted a new cup of water, which he spilled most of. After a minute, when a second glass was offered, he vomited on the Medic’s arm. The sudden lurch in his body caused the pain in his overused muscles to resurface, and he came close to losing consciousness. The Medic looked at the woman who stood leaning against the wall near the door and excused himself. He stepped out into the hallway and, when out of sight, punched the wall in front of him. He had chosen to work in this field to help people heal from accidents – the days of human cruelty were supposed to be long gone with their migration to the New World. But what was this? There was no way a child could be in that state from a simple mistake. The Medic wiped tears pricking at his eyes, took a deep breath, and went to the Clinic’s administrative office to file a report of abuse.

The child, meanwhile, was watching the female Medic talk at him. Sure, she was also wiping off the icky chunks he had accidentally spewed all over himself, but the rise and fall of the sounds coming out of her face were far more intriguing. Her lips made the most interesting shapes, and her tongue was darting around so quickly, he could not follow. The Medic smiled at him every so often, adoring the obvious signs of wonder in the little boy’s face. She encouraged him, opening her mouth wide and singing vowels. His eyes twitched in recognition of a sound he too could make. He joined her “aaaa” and, over the course of the following ten minutes, expanded his repertoire to also include “wooou” and “geeeee.”

The Medic from earlier returned, and the woman explained his lack of language information. They weren’t going to get a name. He nodded, and they continued checking the boy’s state. They wiped away the grime on his face, revealing sunken cheeks and hollowed temples. Deep black bags sat under brown eyes that could have belonged to the dead. His muscles were atrophied and made for a bony frame. His sharp shoulders looked as though they could be snapped with the smallest force, and broken yellow nails were filled with his time in the trees. Scars and scratches ran down his legs, but no bones seemed to have broken. His feet curled unnaturally – physical therapy was going to be intense. His hands were stained green, and his teeth a disturbing dark color. His black hair shined with grease but felt brittle and could only be described as a mess. The Medic wrote “matted, thin, and stringy” in his notes. The pair worked to clean him up and were later joined by other Medics when they were noticed pulling overtime. By the time he was fully untangled and bandaged, the moon was high and bright.

They carried the boy, who had long since fallen asleep, to a cot in their lounge. In the mornings they brought him buttered bread. The Medics took turns sharing midday meals, nursing him through his bug bite infections, and assisting with walking therapy. They put him in a correcting boot after a week to fix his toe-curling, and took it off after another two, when he could walk with his feet flat on the floor. The fleas were gone at that point, too.

Every few nights, the Director of the Orphanage came to check on him, and occasionally the Officer who had found him did as well. No one aside from this close circuit seemed to be looking for him. After fifty or so days had passed, the boy’s feet had been completely corrected and he was eating well. He’d even begun responding to questions with single-word answers. The child was discharged from the Clinic and taken to the Orphanage.

The boy quickly became friends with another child who introduced himself as Kyle and dedicated most of his days to helping the small boy learn to speak. The Director had brought in a speech therapist and a tutor, but he responded best to his peer. The adults watched in amazement as the tiny creature came into his age. He ran. He laughed. He doubled in size. He chose a name for himself. Ladd Korr was a welcome riot, and he felt at home in the Orphanage by the time he turned four. Then, he met Noe.

Noe was smaller than him. Ladd had never seen a person smaller than him before. Noe followed the adults around for a long time, asking where his mommy and daddy were. All the adults gave him the same weird, pitiful look, so he started asking the other kids. They responded like the adults did, except for Ladd. Ladd brought him to Kyle, who he assumed knew everything about everything, and who begrudgingly explained to the two what it meant to be an orphan. Noe cried, but Ladd stared at him as if he was behaving strangely. Kyle realized that Ladd hadn’t seen anyone cry before and took it as another teaching opportunity. Sympathy, a crucial skill that would probably save his life one day...? Well, he couldn’t be left as he was. Kyle was determined to give Ladd character training.