Mona guided Noir down the hallway, their bare feet silent against the ceramic-tiled floor as the tension grew thick but still. But before they could pass the opening in the hallway that led to the living room, a final deafening crash shattered the quietness.
On cadence, the house shook. The front door exploded inward and shattered into fragments as dust and debris filled the air. Mona instinctively shielded Noir as large portions of the door hurtled toward him. The impact left her covered in splinters with a head injury that caused blood to run down her face.
Amid the chaos, a figure emerged from the entrance, its mischievous grin emitting malice. "Anyone home?" Lionel's voice dripped with malicious intent as his eyes fixed on Mona and Noir.
Bloodied but determined, Mona pushed through her pain, turning to Noir. "You're alright, aren't you?" she asked in a low tone, more so as a statement of reassurance than a question, despite her quivering voice. "Noir, I need you to run. Run until you reach Nénènn. You remember how to get there, right?" she asked as yet another statement of reassurance.
Fear coursed through Noir's veins as he looked at his mother's injuries—his heart aching with worry. "Mom, you're bleeding." He trembled as he watched blood run down the side of her face.
"It's just a scratch," she joked, masking her pain with a brave front.
The sounds of broken glass crunching beneath footsteps began drawing near as Lionel stepped through the entrance.
"Go now. I'll be right behind you," Mona hurriedly instructed in an attempt to get Noir far away from the present danger.
"But, Mom."
"Run now, Noir! Get far away from here!"
Noir's eyes welled up as he hesitated. With the emotions within him intertwining, he finally mustered the strength to speak out. "Fine, but you better meet me there!" Noir's words carried shades of fear and defiance. Turning away, he sprinted toward the door at the end of the hall, his heart pounding in his chest.
Mona's words turned to a mere breath of acceptance as she uttered her goodbye. "I can tell you're frustrated with me. My intentions aren't to upset you, but for one of us to survive. If, in time, you come to resent me for the decisions I've made, I will accept your judgment. Oh, my sweet aster child, I won't have to find you; I'll already be with you."
Reaching the side door, Noir's hands trembled as he grasped the knob. Without hesitation, he swung the door open, ready to escape the danger looming behind him. Yet, to his surprise, a tall, pale figure stood on the other side—an eerie being with a twisted face, as if being consumed by a swirling black hole, rendering him featureless. His clothing was made of tight black leather fabric covered in zippers.
Fear seized Noir, freezing his body in place. His legs became so weak that a mere lump in the rug was all it took for him to trip and fall to the ground.
The pale figure, Wayfe, stepped forward, his presence terrifying and unexplainable. He extended a hand towards Noir—his intentions unknown.
"Wayfe, dispose of the child," Lionel's voice echoed from behind, his words laden with sinister amusement.
Wayfe reached closer, his grip ready to tighten and snatch Noir away. The air thickened as Noir's world crumbled before him.
In that desperate moment, a voice resonated within Mona's mind—the voice of Géri, her Ego Spirit, speaking through the vessel in her pocket.
In the tongue of the Egos, he spoke, Mona Bordeaux, on this night, you have prepared yourself for a noble sacrifice, Géri echoed. His tone served as both acknowledgment and warning as they conversed in an ancient language lost to mankind. In return, I shall bestow upon you the full extent of my power. But be warned, such power comes with a heavy toll—one you have been made aware of before. If you are aligned with this sentiment, you need only speak the words, my child.
Mona reached into her pocket, retrieving the vessel that held the spirit of Géri, the Ego of healing and restoration—a second-tier spirit of Enho.
She clutched it tightly, her gaze locked on its intricate form as her resolve solidified. Memories of her son's smile flashed through her mind, bright and pure, fueling her decision.
"I accept," she declared.
With solemn finality, she secured the vessel around her neck, embracing both its power and the inevitable price. Taking a steadying breath, she lifted her hands before her, summoning the unseen force now surging through her body.
"Spirit of the Ego's, Géri, bestow upon me your insurmountable radiance!" she cried, her voice carrying her strength.
A brilliant light flared from the symbol on the Ego Vessel, radiating between her hands. A sphere of brilliant energy took shape, pulsating with raw power. Mona aimed the ball of energy directly at Wayfe, her intention clear—to protect her son at all costs.
With a surge, the ball of light shot forth like a blinding beam, tearing through the air with an unstoppable force. It struck Wayfe with a devastating force, ripping through the house and leaving ruin in its wake. The impact blasted a gaping hole into the wall, allowing the night to spill through its jagged remains.
As the dust settled, the aftermath of Mona's desperate act was revealed. Both Noir and Wayfe were nowhere to be found.
Heart hammering, she stumbled forward, stepping through the wreckage. "Noir? Noir?!" she called out, her words echoing into the night. But there was no response, only silence and the lingering presence of devastation.
A sharp breath caught in her throat. Her hands flew over her mouth, her thoughts spiraling. Oh no, did I–? The question lodged in her mind, a terrifying possibility she wasn't ready to face.
I understand your frustration, my child, but now is not the time.
Lionel emerged from behind, quite amused. "Let's not forget about poor old me. Papa Lanmo doesn't like to be ignored."
Mona whirled around, her eyes burning with fury and grief. "Lionel!" she roared, placing her hands together, flat against one another. An unrestrained and powerful energy flowed within her. Raging light formed in her palms, brighter and more volatile than before.
"You'll pay for this," she vowed, her voice trembling with rage.
The air crackled with energy as Mona's hands separated. As they grew further apart, a gassy yet static substance began emitting from them.
Once again, Géri's voice echoed in her mind, guiding her through the storm.
Offensive or defensive, it matters not with this ability. All you need to do is land as many touches as you can before uttering the phrase, 'Reaver Soul' and its effect will activate.
Mona's breath grew hard and fast, her entire being alight with purpose. "Spirit of the Ego's, Géri, grant me your strength!" The words tore from her throat, less a plea and more a battle cry.
And for the first time ever, Géri answered Mona's tongue.
As you wish, my child.