Ever since Rayne was a small child, he had been subjected to the cruel nature of humanity's machinations. His only solace in this hell forsaken life had been his brother, Verre. The two had been working in tandem all their lives, managing to survive the impoverished violent slums of Falcon Scott despite it all.
One would think the port city of Falcon Scott would be a thriving center of trade, affording rare opportunities to the lower class citizens who yearned for a chance at proper life — after all, many died in the field of work transporting goods by sea and needed their human replacements — yet it was the opposite. Many could not, or would not dare work such dangerous jobs for the low pay, and resorted to thievery and... other less than elegant means of survival.
Rayne's older brother was one such person. Understanding just what was at stake for the two, Verre would often work simple factory jobs by day that yielded pay in food, and work far from... moral jobs by night. More often than not, Verre would come back home bloodied as the price paid for the small amount of money he would reap.
It bothered Rayne.
"Rayne, I'll be back in a few hours alright? You just... stay awake."
Drawn out of his tired haziness, Rayne looked over the edge of his bunkbed, locking his fatigued gaze on Verre's bent over figure. Verre was currently putting his shoes on, getting ready to leave their small room of an apartment. His features were identical to Rayne's own, often times they would be mistaken for as twins.
Though they were not twins, as Verre was a good two years older than Rayne.
Well, one physical feature that differed between them was the long scar running up Verre's pale white face. The scar snaked its way from his jawline up to his coal black hair. It was... a painful reminder to Rayne of the price paid in their past.
"Don't take too long alright..?"
Yawning sleepily, Rayne rolled onto his back and resumed his vicious unending fight against his newfound fatigue. It had been a few days already since he had contracted the Spell, and it would most likely be a few more days before he succumbed to it.
But there was no telling how soon he would lose the fight, it could be a matter of hours for all he knew. All it took was one singular moment of taking his mind off of the hazy battle and he would slip.
Due to that very reasoning, Verre had been working himself like a dog to cover Rayne's portion of the workload as well as trying to prepare him for the challenge ahead. Despite only being two years older Verre acted more like a father figure to Rayne at times than he would like to admit.
It had been that way between the two since he was six.
"Sure, sure. I'll bring you another can of soup too." Verre answered belatedly with a chastising tone. Ah how that tone annoyed Rayne.
Hearing the door close shut softly, Rayne turned his attention to the singular window in their poorly lit room. A gentle snowfall was obscuring the view so he could not see the distant cityscape, yet it was oddly comforting to Rayne despite how common snow was here in Antarctica.
'Damn Spell...'
Closing his eyes heavily, all Rayne could do was wallow in the depths of his guilt as he relied on his brother. By no means had he ever let Verre do all the work, or even try to. And yet here he was, letting his brother risk his life excessively because of the damnable Spell infection.
Another wretched emotion ate away at his consciousness too. One that he did not often feel: fear. The fear of dying in his first Nightmare, leaving his brother all alone scared him far more than any fight he had been in. Hell, even the gangs around the area seemed like puppies in comparison.
Whatever puppies were, anyways. Rayne had heard they were cute though.
Deciding he could not stomach the restlessness anymore, Rayne swung his legs slowly over the bedframe and hopped down to the cold concrete floor with a soft thud. Below their bunkbed a small stack of old wrinkled papers rested in a pile neatly. These papers were worth almost two months of work — essentially their life savings — and were purchased at Verre's insistence.
The paper itself cost majority of what they spent, but what was written was more important to him at the moment. Verre had told — practically commanding — Rayne he needed all the unfiltered knowledge he could get about the Nightmare Spell, and gathered as much relevant information as possible for Rayne.
Though, this information was procured from less than trustworthy greedy hags who ran a small pawnshop around their complex building. Rayne was not fond of the store in the first place, and paying those asshole owners did not sit well with him either.
Regardless of his whining, with a long winded sigh Rayne reached under and grabbed the stack, sitting down. Scanning his eyes through the old papers Rayne read. So far, he had learned that the First Nightmare was one akin to a trial, not to kill the challenger but to test them in their intellectual capacity and adaptability.
He had also learned that "Aspects" would be rewarded within this trial which served as the cornerstone for the Awakened's power.
Though for everyone this much was common household knowledge, Rayne had never bothered to follow along with the news about the Awakened. Afterall he had much more pressing things to deal with, such as who to mug or run a scam on!
***
Looking out of the window for what must have been the thousandth time, Rayne watched the distant crimson sun set over the jagged horizon line of cityscape. The snowstorm had died out a few hours ago, allowing a little light to bleed into the apartment.
What mattered more was that it had been far too long since his brother had left. Deep down in his gut Rayne knew something was off, but he had been choosing to trust in Verre's ability to return on his own.
However his trust in Verre coming back had... begun to wane, instead replaced by an unsettling unease. Slipping out of his bunk once more, Rayne fought off the growing urge to curl up in a ball and sleep. With a small stinging slap to the face to wake himself up, he headed to the bathroom.
Softly splashing cold water on his face, he observed himself in the mirror for a moment. Perhaps if he was better fed, better raised, he would have been considered handsome. His cheekbones were somewhat visible through his soft pale skin, his tired stormy grey eyes no longer filling their depth with life, instead sunken in. Even his once lush short coal painted hair had become devoid of health, now ragged and disheveled.
Frowning, Rayne shook his head in dismay and slipped his jacket on. There would be plenty of time for such idle thoughts after Verre was back home. Rayne slipped his shoes on and headed out of their apartment. He would be damned if he did not search for Verre. Or... if he was hurt.
Rayne did not want to think such dark thoughts, but found it was very hard to avoid them.
The intense cold greeted him harshly as he felt the wind whip against his cheeks, his warm breath now visible in the night air. Looking around briefly, Rayne chose to check the nearby store fronts where Verre would frequent.
But to no avail, Rayne ran around finding nothing. The streets had were empty, despite the sun only just setting. It was... weird, to say the least. There was no usual bustling of city life within the slums today.
Perhaps it was due to the impending storm. While snow storms were not uncommon, it was forecasted than an especially heavy one would thunder through Falcon Scott in the coming hours.
"Just where the hell are you Verre?" Rayne mumbled under his breath, his face scrunched in concentration. "It's cold out here."
The abnormally empty streets of Falcon Scott's slums did not help sooth his concern as he traversed them. In fact, Rayne began to worry seriously for once. It was not like Verre to be out this late, especially after he said he would be a few hours only.
Finally after searching for the better part of an hour, he arrived at an old alleyway near a factory. It was here that Rayne found what he had been desperately searching for.
But it was not what he had expected, rather it was what he feared.
"Verre..?"
Lying in the snow covered concrete was Verre's sprawled figure, a deep crimson red painting the surrounding snow. And in the center of Verre's torso was a single steel blade, towering proudly as if it was an indomitable mountain as it stood pierced in him.
Without a second thought, Rayne's eyes widened in shock as he rushed over to Verre's side, cradling his head gently.
"Verre! Wake up! What happened!?"
A rare tear began to well in the corner of Rayne's tired grey eyes, and stubbornly he wiped them away with his sleeves. A million thoughts began to rage through his mind, before the adrenaline cleared them away in a moment of clarity.
Pressing his ear to Verre's neck, he heard a faint thump every few seconds. There was still time! It seemed that the sword impaling him had acted as a clot of sorts, keeping most of the blood within him instead of flowing freely.
With one carefully executed move, Rayne picked up Verre's crumpled body and began to sprint out of the abandoned alleyway.
The damn silver sword was still impaled in him too.
"Help! Anyone, please!"
Rayne cried out desperately in the empty streets, his voice raw and calloused. Yet no one answered. In part, he had not expected anyone to in the first place. That was how it was here, regardless he still hopelessly called out. Worse than that, the nearest hospital was over a mile away, it would be too late by the time he reached it.
That's if they even accepted them inside. After all they had their own clients who actually paid for their services to take care of. Why would they care about some slum rats?
"Fuck! Fuck it all!"
Cursing out to the world helped relieve a little pressure as he sprinted, but did not alleviate the growing stress and fear strangling his heart. What had happened? Why was a sword of all things burrowed in Verre's chest?
No one had the wealth here to afford such a glamorous blade in the first place.
Thoughts began to whir inside his mind, and Rayne started theorizing. Had it been an outside entity from here? Maybe a rogue soldier? No, a rogue Awakened?
The street lights flickered alive as the night began to set in fully, yet they seemed oddly... blurry?
Suddenly Rayne stumbled to the ground, as if his legs were paralyzed. Blinking slowly, he spotted a few distant figures running toward him.
'Damn I can't think straight... I-I can't keep my eyes open...'
With one last glance he spotted Verre lying down next to him, his chest still rising and falling slowly. Then Rayne's eyelids with an insurmountable weight pulling down, closed again.
"Verre." Rayne croaked out weakly before falling into a deep sleep.
He had succumbed to his fatigue. To the Spell.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]