#maverick mokulau

[twistedtummies2]

Glamour - Chapter 3 (Trade)

This is the third part of a four-part trade story with @hooter-n-company (a.k.a. Rchlis). She is making some very special art for me, and in return, she asked me to write a story to introduce a Twisted Wonderland OC she's sort of had stewing in the background for a while: his name is Taoka Latronis, and he is based on Tamatoa from "Moana."

I absolutely LOVE Tamatoa. He's a fun villain, and a surprising crush (albeit a somewhat mild one, for me, personally). Rchlis wanted to create a character for the TW universe based on the big glam crab, and I certainly wasn't going to say no. The advantage of this being a trade, instead of a commission, was I could go and make a much longer and more detailed story, in return for much more detailed and elaborate artwork, without either of us having to pay exorbitant amounts that frankly neither of us could afford. Win-win. XD

This was a LOT of fun to make, and Taoka is one of my favorite OCs I've gotten to write for that I DIDN'T create myself, if not my favorite (at least as far as TW goes, I should clarify). Hopefully a lot of you like him, too. ;) Parts one and two have already been released the past two days; the fourth and final section will go up tomorrow. Be on the lookout!

WARNING: THIS PARTICULAR SECTION DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY KINKS DIRECTLY. HOWEVER, THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF VORE AND OTHER KINKS SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE FIRST THREE PARTS. DON'T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON'T READ. NOTE/DISCLAIMER: Once again, I referenced a song from "Labyrinth" (performed and composed by David Bowie) here. Once again, I hold no rights to the lyrics, figured I should still put this here, though.

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“This can’t be!” “Well, it sure seems like it can.” You and Grim watched anxiously as Divus Crewel and Maverick Mokulau paced across the stage. The audience had been cleared out, with the help of Neige LeBlanche, and local security had been called to investigate. Vil Schoenheit and Keala Cravalho had both split up to help them out. Speaking of which…all four of you looked up as the familiar clip-clopping of heels announced the return of the two students. “Have you searched the dressing rooms?” inquired Professor Crewel. “Every last one!” exclaimed Keala. “And?” “Nothing! It’s just…gone!” “You two were supposed to be on the ball today,” Vil scowled in your direction. “Nya! Don’t look at us!” Grim yowled, fur bristling with aggravation. “No, Grim, he’s right,” you sighed. “We may not have been in charge of security, but we should have been more on top of things, as Stage Managers. All those mishaps, culminating in the trophy being stolen…” “What does ‘culminating’ mean?” Grim meowed, in response. You and Vil groaned in tandem.

“It has to be around here somewhere,” fretted Keala. “I sincerely doubt that, at this point,” frowned Vil. “What is security up to now?” Mokulau demanded to know. “They’ve begun interviewing some of the contestants, to see if anybody noticed anything suspicious,” Vil replied. “I regret to say they haven’t had much luck.” “Someone had to see something!” Grim suddenly screeched. “All anybody saw were stars,” droned Vil. “That flash of light blinded everybody who might have gotten a good look.” “What was that flash, anyway?” murmured Keala, scratching his chin. “It didn’t seem like just a normal lighting trick.” “You’ve got that right, kid,” grumbled Mokulau, tipping his shades down as he turned his head up thoughtfully, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Wasn’t just an illusion, either…” “It seemed to me,” Crewel broke in, “Like some form of magic.” Those words caused something to click inside your brain. You suddenly let out a shout of frustration and slapped your forehead. “Oh, you Dumbo!” you cried out…then, noticing the expressions on everyone’s faces, you quickly explained: “Not you all. Me. I think I know who did this!” “You do?” Grim blinked. “Yes. But I’m going to need more proof,” you said solemnly, and stood up. It was time to take charge. “Vil, Mr. Mokulau, Keala? Can I ask you three to accompany me?” “If you feel it’s necessary,” Vil said slowly, while the two Royal Sword members nodded in agreement. “Good,” you smiled, then looked at Professor Crewel. “I think you and Grim should help security, sir. I may be completely wrong, and I don’t think ALL of us need to go at once.” “That seems reasonable,” Crewel nodded, and pointed at Grim with his familiar rod. “Come, puppy! We have work to do!” With a swirl of his fur coat, Divus Crewel flounced away. Grim growled grouchily. “First I’m a cat, then I’m a puppy,” he grumbled. “I’m getting sick of this…” “Just behave,” you sighed, and shooed the little imp away. With a sniff and a snort, he followed Professor Crewel away. “So, where are we goin’?” Maverick asked, crossing his tattooed arms. “To see Hop the Dwarf,” you replied, and beckoned for the three to follow you. “I think he’s the first stop we should make.” “Whatever you say, Basil of Baker Street,” Keala smirked with a shrug. You just gave him a blank look. “Forget it,” he chuckled, waving it off. Vil and Mokulau rolled their eyes. You just shook your head and led the group away. It was time to start getting a few answers.

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“Who knew what kind of instrument you would be playing?” you asked Hop the Dwarf. Yourself and Keala stood inside the little fellow’s dressing room, while Vil and Mokulau - having seniority as judges - stood outside the room to guard it, just in case the culprit you suspected should show up. Hop scratched his head as he pondered the inquiry. “Well…I had to fill out a form to let management know,” he pointed out. “I’m aware,” you nodded. “But who else might have known?” “Did you tell any of the other contestants, maybe someone in the audience?” asked Keala. “I don’t think so,” said Hop, shaking his round little head. “Only Gran and Dominic, and they wouldn’t do a thing like that!” “No, of course they wouldn’t,” you sighed, feeling rather frustrated by the answer. This hadn’t gotten you anywhere you hoped it would. “I guess your hunch was wrong,” said Keala, weakly. “Seems that way,” you grumbled. “Wait a moment!” Hop suddenly squeaked, snapping his tiny fingers in realization. “There was that one guy…!” “One guy?” you and Keala chorused. “Uh-huh!” nodded Hop. “See, there was this guy…” He indicated you. “...I think he goes to your school…anyway, he said he was trying to find his lost guitar pick, and he was asking around if anybody had seen it. I told him I hadn’t seen it, and he said that was okay. He then asked what I was doing for my act, out of curiosity. I didn’t think there was anything wrong, so I told him my plans for my performance.” “So he would have known which instrument you were using and where you kept it?” “Well, not where I KEPT it, no,” said Hop with a slight giggle. “I didn’t tell him THAT much!” “Still,” Keala murmured, now catching on to what you were anticipating, “If he knew you had the instrument in here, and knew what he was looking for, he could have come in at any time you weren’t around.” “Did you leave the room at any point?” you asked the young dwarf. “Just for a few minutes for a snack break,” shrugged Hop. “That would do it,” you said gravely. “Can you tell me what he looked like?” “He wore a gold coat, and a glove on one hand. He also had purple eyes.”

Keala sucked in a breath sharply. You looked quickly towards him. “What’s wrong?” you asked the young man in the red shirt. Keala hesitated before answering: “I saw the same guy near my dressing room after I went to the bathroom for a spell. I’d left the door open when I left.” “So he could have gotten in while you were away?” Keala nodded, and added another detail: “He had a guitar bag slung over his shoulder. At the time, I assumed it carried his instrument, but…” Cravalho trailed off. You could easily guess the rest. You nodded to him, then at Hop, smiling slightly with a sense of slight triumph. “Thanks, little guy,” you said to the Dwarf. Hop gave a cheery mock-salute. You and Keala each returned the gesture, then exited the room, shutting the door behind you. “Well!” you said, clapping your hands together. “That cinches it.” “You know who’s behind this?” Mokulau checked. “I’m pretty sure, yep,” you nodded, then looked at Vil. “I’m afraid he’s one of your students.” Vil’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. “You don’t mean Taoka, do you?” he asked. “I’m afraid so. Do you know what his Unique Magic is like?” “I have not had a chance to experience it, no,” Vil answered, shaking his head. “I have. Or, at least, I think I have,” you said. “He’s the one who took the Lanternblossoms that Grim and I needed for our assignment with Professor Crewel. When he did, he lifted his hand, muttered some sort of spell…” “And let me guess,” interjected Mokulau, “There was a disorienting, golden flash of light?” “Just like the one that everybody got hit with when the trophy was stolen,” you confirmed.

“If it’s a signature spell, then there can be no doubt,” frowned Vil, clearly cross at the idea of one of his own Pomefiore dorm-mates being potentially responsible. “But we’re lacking the negligible item of evidence.” “He’s got a point,” Keala concurred. “Security checked all the dressing rooms, including his. They would have found it then, wouldn’t they have?” That was a good point, which you had no answer for. Mokulau scratched at his bear-like chest, then lifted a finger as he spoke up authoritatively. “The way it sounds to me,” he said, seriously, “There are three answers to this problem. The first is that our Stage Manager is either wrong or outright lying to us.” “I’m inclined to think they are correct,” Vil said, and gave you a supportive smile. “For all the faults the Prefect of Ramshackle has, I have no reason to doubt everything they’ve said as being as true and factual as they can manage.” You smiled gratefully. “I figured that,” nodded Maverick. “The second answer is that this Tapioca-” “Taoka,” corrected Vil. “-Whatever…the second answer is that he’s somehow managed to hide the trophy in his room, in a way security wouldn’t be able to uncover. I don’t think that’s true, either: if he’d used a cloaking spell, for example, they would’ve checked for it immediately.” “Then what’s the third option?” questioned Keala. “I think I can guess that,” you answered, and raised an eyebrow at the Royal Sword instructor. “It’s that he’s hidden the trophy - and maybe all the other things he’s presumably taken - somewhere offsite. Right?” “In the time before and after his performance, he could have had a chance to hide the instruments and all the rest,” reasoned Mokulau. “And in the confusion after he swiped the trophy, he might have been able to slip off to somewhere, provided it wasn’t very far away.” “There’s plenty of options,” said Vil, solemnly, a hand to his chin as he pondered things. “It would have been risky, but so was stealing everything to begin with. In the words of a famous writer, ‘once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’” “Okay, so…if he HAS done that,” Keala frowned, scratching his cheek, “Then where is this hiding spot?” Mokulau could only shrug. A smile came to your face. “Well,” you began to say, slyly, “Maybe we don’t know that…but there’s bound to be one person who does.” You then pointed to Maverick’s sunglasses. “Quick question…do you have spares of those?”

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“You remind me of the babe! What babe? Babe with the power! What power? Power of Voodoo! Who do? You do! Do what? Remind me of the babe…” Taoka Latronis laughed and sang as he lounged lazily in his dressing room, smiling up at the ceiling. He was feeling very pleased with himself. He spun around in his chair, grinning from ear to ear, looking for all the world like the cat who had caught the canary. He was still gayfully humming when a thumping knock came at the door. The smile was struck from his face. “What?” he called out, crossly, a slight sneer curling across his painted lips. His expression quickly changed, and he sat up straight in his chair, as the door opened to reveal a broad-shouldered, heavily-tattooed man with long, dark hair and a stubbly, strong chin, with a shark tooth necklace around his throat and sunglasses shrouding his hazel eyes. “Mr. Mokulau!” exclaimed Taoka, startled at the sight of the rock star judge and magic master. “This…th-this is unexpected…” “Heh. Don’t worry, I get that a lot. Not everybody expects me to be so perfect,” winked Maverick with a chuckle. Taoka gave a sort of tight smile in return. “Is there something you need?” Taoka asked. “Security already checked my room…is there any chance we’ll be allowed to leave soon?” “Actually, yeah, that’s what I was coming to tell you,” replied Mokulau, and jabbed a thumb back towards the open door as he stepped further into the room. “Security’s done checking around for now, they wanna clear all the contestants out. You’ll be free to go in just a few minutes. So, if you’ve got anything to pack up, better get to it.” “Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure to get ready in a moment,” Taoka said, then paused before hesitantly asking, “Do they know who might be responsible?” Mokulau paused before sighing and nodding, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into a pocket. “Honestly, I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said, and brushed some of his dark curls away from his face. “But they think it was a student from your school.” Taoka’s purple eyes widened. His smile flickered. “Do they now?” “Yeah,” nodded Mokulau, and paused a moment longer before continuing: “We can’t prove it, but we’re starting to suspect the Stage Management duo had something to do with it all.”

Taoka blinked. Three times. “Them?” he repeated, sounding almost bewildered. “They had access to every room,” replied Mokulau with a scowl. “And it seems kinda suspicious so many things would go missing on their watch. We’re not sure how they took that trophy, or if they had any help, but with all the mishaps during the contest as a whole, we’re pretty sure they had to know more than they’re telling.” Taoka looked askance, purple-hued brow knitted in thought. “You have a point,” he murmured, then a grin spread across his face, and he looked back up at the great musician. “Yes! It has to be them! We should have suspected it from the start.” “Psh. Tell me ‘bout it,” snorted Mokulau. “Your Housewarden is beside himself: the idea of a fellow NRC student being behind it all, somebody he personally asked for help…” “Eh. I imagine the dorm leader will get over it,” shrugged Taoka with a smirk. “Guess we shouldn’t have trusted a person from a world with no magic, huh?” “Looks like it,” Mokulau replied, and chuckled to himself: “At least they didn’t get my real pick out of the deal.” Taoka’s grin vanished instantly. “Huh? What…what do you mean the real pick?” he asked. “Oh, well, obviously I didn’t ACTUALLY put the REAL guitar pick I used in my first concerts on the trophy,” said Maverick with a smile. “It’s precious to me: something like that isn’t something I would just get rid of.” “I see,” Taoka said, and cocked his head. “So, uh…if it’s not prying too much, where DO you keep the real one?” Maverick smirked. He looked around, as if to make sure nobody was watching…then winked and patted one of his pockets. “You…you have it here? With you?” gasped Taoka, seemingly stunned. “Well, duh! It’s my lucky pick!” laughed Mokulau. “Every guitarist worth their salt carries one, kid. If you’re gonna be one, you better find your own soon.” Taoka grimaced and looked away again. “Yeah. If,” he muttered.

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” smiled the large man, with a kinder sort of expression. “I know we were pretty rough on you out there today, but you’ve got passion, kid. That’ll take you far, if you keep it up.” “I somehow doubt that,” whispered Taoka to himself. Maverick looked the young Night Raven student up and down…then stepped closer and reassuringly placed one huge, heavy hand on the young man’s shoulders. Taoka looked up, seemingly surprised. “When I got started, I was totally on my own, kid,” said Mokulau. “It took a lotta work and a lotta faith to get to my level now. I know it sounds cliche, but trust me, those two things can do a lot for ya if you let them. Don’t ever forget: as handsome as I may be, it’s not really about what’s out here…” He lightly pinched Taoka’s golden jacket indicatively…then lowered his hand and tapped a finger to the youth’s chest. “...It’s what in there that’s gonna matter most.” Taoka let out a sarcastic sort of chuckle and brushed the teacher’s hand away. “That’s a nice sentiment, sir, but you of all people should know: a golden heart isn’t gonna matter when you’re totally invisible.” Maverick frowned again, now a bit bemused. He tilted his head. “What makes you say that?” he asked, quietly, then a bit louder: “Have we met before?” Taoka’s expression was unreadable. His ungloved hand quietly clutched the other appendage in an absent-minded way. All he said in reply was a thoroughly emotionless: “Yes. We have.” Mokulau looked as if he wanted to ask something else…but at that moment, a new voice intervened… “Ahem! Mr. Mokulau?” Maverick turned around to see Vil Schoenheit standing in the doorway to the room. “What’s up?” he asked. “Your students - Neige and Mr. Cravalho, that is - want to talk to you.” “Thanks,” grunted Maverick Mokulau, and turned back around to smile at Taoka once more. He pulled out his shades and flipped them back into place over his eyes. “See ya later, kid.” “Maybe so,” Taoka answered in a slippery sort of way. Maverick grinned and clicked a finger-gun gesture towards the young man, then followed Vil out of the room. The moment he was gone, Taoka’s sly expression changed to a truly evil grin. He looked down towards his hands. He opened his gloved palm…revealing a small, bone-white guitar pick in his hand. “Gotcha,” he cackled to himself under his breath, then tucked the pick hastily into his own pocket before hurriedly tidying up his room. Once it was all clean, he slung his guitar over his shoulder. He was still laughing as he left the dressing room.

As far as he could tell...he'd won.

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Taoka took one of the sideways passages out of the auditorium, thus allowing him to slip by most anyone who might have spotted his departure. He did not head towards Night Raven straightaway. Instead, the spiky-haired young sneakthief blazed a trail towards the edge of the dense forest. His pace was deliberate, his demeanor sharp and direct; he knew exactly where he was going. No sooner had the youth’s golden coat vanished into the undergrowth, than he removed the pick from his pocket. A devious smile - which showed off each of his slightly-too-long teeth - split his face as he crept through the shadows of the trees in a Northwesterly direction. He had only gone some forty yards or so before he spotted a destination: a small, empty cave, half-hidden by brambles. Sniggering at his deceit, he hopped, skipped, and jumped over the brambles and scuttled into the cave, like a spider quickly creeping back into its den…or a crab, burrowing into a hiding spot. Inside the cavern, he paused a little ways away from the entrance: the cave was wide and round, with  a ceiling that was about as low as a typical room in a typical house. No animals lived here, which made it an admirable hiding place…for the instruments, the microphones, and all the other bits and pieces of necessary hardware the contestants of the Triple-S concert competition required for their performances. Pilfering the items had been shockingly simple; sneaking them out when nobody would notice was only somewhat more difficult. Taoka chuckled as he approached the prize of his little hoard: a familiar silver trophy, topped with an ivory guitar pick. “Figuring out how to get you all out of here again is gonna be a bit of a problem,” mumbled Taoka…then smirked and shrugged. “Ah, well. Maybe I’ll just sell the stuff that’s worth something, leave the rest behind.” He knelt down beside the trophy with an evil smile. “You, however…you I’m gonna treasure. You and the REAL pick,” he chuckled, lifting up the bone-white guitar strummer in his hands indicatively… …And the moment he did, his smile faded. A look of confusion filled the glammed-up guitar player’s eyes. Something wasn’t right. The pick on the trophy had a familiar hook shape in its center; this was to be expected. The symbol was Mokulau’s logo, and his first pick had been etched with the design early on. That was as good as a signature or fingerprint of authenticity. But the pick Taoka now held…well, it was the same exact color, and the same exact shape and size…but it had no visible markings on it at all. “Wait a minute,” murmured Taoka, and scratched the surface…then sighed as the paint scraped, and a different color - a plain gray - showed underneath. “Oh, I see. He’s taken a cheap pick, and painted it in the same color as the one on the trophy…” Taoka’s look of petulant dissatisfaction abruptly changed to one of apprehension and alarm. “...As a diversion?” “More like bait.”

Taoka leapt to his feet and swung around with a snarl. He glared as he saw you standing at the entrance to the cave. Vil and Mokulau stood just a short distance behind you. As the three of you entered, the young man moved into a guarded position, flinging the cheap pick aside. “You followed me!” he accused. “Guilty as charged,” you chuckled. “It wasn’t too hard. We knew you couldn’t have brought them all the way back to the school, and there was nowhere in the town that seemed likely. We just didn’t know where to look. I figured if we dangled something shiny in front of your face, so to speak, you’d just HAVE to take it.” “You’ve disgraced my dorm, Latronis,” glared Vil. “I hope you realize punishment is well overdue.” “Oh, please, don’t insult me,” snorted Taoka coldly. “Or do we have to forget somebody else cheated much more dangerously at a certain other competition?” Vil glowered and said nothing. Sensing trouble, you subtly stepped to block him and Taoka’s path to each other. Vil noticed, smiled, and lightly placed a hand on your shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath, but only you heard it, and gave him a small smile in return. “Keala!” Mokulau called back over his shoulder. “We’ve found him.” Moments later, Keala joined the group. He looked almost hurt when he saw the trophy behind the glitzy scoundrel. “So you DO have it!” he exclaimed. “Give it back!” Taoka glared. “Why should I?” he hissed. “How about because we’ll pummel you if you don’t?” growled Maverick. “A student attacked by a teacher? I think that would get you in a great deal of trouble,” crooned Taoka. “You’re no student of mine,” said Mokulau coldly.

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong,” smirked Taoka, and straightened his stance, showing off his flashy outfit. “See, you’re the one I have to give credit for who I am today: watching you, I learned the only way a person is gonna stand out is if you make yourself bigger, shinier, and all around better than anybody around you. And it doesn’t matter who you step on to get there, or who gets left behind in the process!” “But that trophy wasn’t yours to take!” Keala protested. “What good does it do you to have it now? You can’t show it off, you can’t claim you won! What does it matter?!” “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” sniffed Taoka. “Well, I’m making it my business!” Keala snapped, taking an aggressive stance of his own. “I worked too hard to make my grandma proud-” “Between us, babe, I’m getting a little tired of hearin’ about your grandma,” interrupted Taoka. “I don’t care who ‘deserves’ this or not, it’s MINE! I’VE claimed it! AND I AM NOT LOSIN’ MY TREASURE NOW!” So saying, Taoka Latronis thrust out one hand. You heard him start to utter a familiar incantation… “NOW!” you shouted, and at almost the exact same time, Taoka finished the spell with three bellowed words… “Time to shine!” ZAM! A blinding flash of golden light shined and glittered through the whole small cave of loot. Taoka grinned and picked up the trophy, then made a dash to run past all of you and out the cavern mouth… …Only for an arm like a steel band - Vil’s - to suddenly swing out and smash into his abdomen. With a wheezing grunt, he staggered back, his gloved hand on his diaphragm, the other still holding the trophy tightly. He coughed twice and looked up…then gulped at what he saw. “Oh, come on!” he almost whined. “That’s STUPIDLY unfair!” All four of you wore matching, mischievous smiles…and sunglasses.

“Extra protected,” Mokulau boasted, adjusting his pair. “Not even your sparkle can beat these babies.” “Give us the trophy, Taoka!” Vil demanded, marching forward and stretching out one arm sharply, as if ordering a dog to drop a bone. “Don’t make this harder for yourself.” Taoka just scoffed. He removed his guitar, propping it up against one of the cave walls, and moved into an action-ready posture. “You’ll have to turn the world upside-down before I let you take this from me,” he responded icily. So saying, the young man reached into his pocket, and pulled out his Magic Pen. With a swish and a flick, he summoned a pillar of water, which blasted Vil backwards and sent him sprawling onto the cave floor. The other three of you hurried to his side. “You okay?” you asked, worriedly. “No,” Vil said, through a face full of dripping makeup. “I’m soaked.” You smirked. “THERE HE GOES!” Keala’s shout alerted all of you. You looked up; through the tint of your sunglasses, you saw Taoka finally use the distraction he’d sought for to flee, as he darted from the cave and out into the woods. “We can’t let him get away!” yelled Mokulau. “Come on!” You didn’t have to be told twice. You helped Vil to his feet, and all four of you charged out of the cave and after Taoka Latronis.

To Be Concluded in Part 4...

[twistedtummies2]

Glamour - Chapter 2 (Trade)

This is the second part of a four-part trade story with @hooter-n-company (a.k.a. Rchlis). She is making some very special art for me, and in return, she asked me to write a story to introduce a Twisted Wonderland OC she's sort of had stewing in the background for a while: his name is Taoka Latronis, and he is based on Tamatoa from "Moana."

I absolutely LOVE Tamatoa. He's a fun villain, and a surprising crush (albeit a somewhat mild one, for me, personally). Rchlis wanted to create a character for the TW universe based on the big glam crab, and I certainly wasn't going to say no. The advantage of this being a trade, instead of a commission, was I could go and make a much longer and more detailed story, in return for much more detailed and elaborate artwork, without either of us having to pay exorbitant amounts that frankly neither of us could afford. Win-win. XD This was a LOT of fun to make, and Taoka is one of my favorite OCs I've gotten to write for that I DIDN'T create myself, if not my favorite (at least as far as TW goes, I should clarify). Hopefully a lot of you like him, too. ;)

Like with other stories of this nature, the other parts will be uploaded one a day over the coming few days. So be on the lookout! Part one went up yesterday.

WARNING: THIS PARTICULAR SECTION DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY KINKS DIRECTLY. HOWEVER, THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF VORE AND OTHER KINKS SPRINKLED THROUGHOUT THE FIRST THREE PARTS. (I actually think this part might be the only chapter that DOESN'T feature kinks at all, possibly.) DON'T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON'T READ.

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: The lyrics to the songs used in this chapter are not mine. One is a song you should all know from a Disney movie that you should all also know. I used a cover by Jonathan Young as my guide. The other is a song from "Labyrinth," composed and performed by David Bowie - it seemed appropriate. All rights to the original tunes go to their owners.

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“AND NOW, AUDIENCE MEMBERS OF TRIPLE-S! IT’S TIME TO MEET YOUR JUDGES!” The announcer’s declaration was followed by much clapping. From your place just slightly offstage, you watched the opening ceremony get underway. One by one, the announcer presented the judges for the Sage’s Solo Showdown. The two student judges - Vil and Neige - were the first to step up. Given their celebrity statuses, each was greeted with screams and squeals, as well as great applause. Neige all but pranced up to his seat on the judge’s booth, waving excitedly to the audience. He flashed a peace sign and winked at someone in the crowd, before sitting down. Vil followed him. He strutted to his place and bowed regally, smiling a sort of indulgent, almost sultry smile at the crowd. You couldn’t help but chuckle as Vil sat down: when Neige had appeared, you’d seen fangirls bouncing with giddy excitement. When Vil appeared, however, you saw them swoon and faint dead away. That said everything about each of them, you felt, in a nutshell. Divus Crewel stepped up next, as the “teaching judges” now came into play. You were surprised by how much applause he got. He was no celebrity superstar in the way Vil and Neige LeBlanche were, you supposed his recognition as a professor at NRC, along with any clout his “extracurricular activities” had gotten him, would have still garnered him a decent fanbase. “I wonder who the fourth judge is,” you murmured. “Nya! We haven’t seen any of the teachers at Royal Sword,” whispered Grim with a nod. “I’m curious, too!” The pair of you would soon get your answer. “And now, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer’s voice boomed. “Our final judge for this year’s competition, and our chief master of ceremonies! I’m sure a lot of you know him: one of the hottest musicians in Twisted Wonderland, a native of this very island, who’s just started a new career of teaching at Royal Sword Academy! Please put your hands together for the mighty…the magnificent…MAVERICK MOKULAU!” The crowd went just as wild as they had for Vil and Neige, if not wilder. From your vantage point, you could see the latter of the young superstars bounce happily as he applauded from his seat, a look of idolizing wonder in his eyes. (Vil and Crewel, for their part, clapped politely; the latter even somehow managed to falsify a smile.) Soon, you could see the mysterious Mr. Mokulau: your first immediate thought was that he looked like some sort of rock star. he was a very large man, similar in height and build to Coach Vargas, but with darker skin and long, curly, yet well-groomed hair. While Vil and Neige were dressed in their school uniforms, and Crewel in his usual attire (fur coat and all), Mokulau was wearing a short sleeved shirt with a green floral pattern, like the canopy of a jungle, and a stylish pair of leather pants. Around his neck was a leather cord, with a shark tooth pendant, and he tipped a pair of Aviator-style sunglasses up onto his forehead as he strode towards his station. He winked one of his shimmering, almost metallic hazel eyes, flashing a grin of pearly teeth to the audience and flexing one arm in a showy fashion; both of his brawny limbs were covered in a myriad of tattoos, and you could see the beginnings of a similar tattoo on the back of his neck, no doubt trailing down along his spine and shoulders, currently unseen under the cover of his clothes. Mokulau took the microphone from the announcer and addressed the crowd; not only was he built like Ashton Vargas, but his imposing, booming voice you felt sure would give the coach a run for his money. “Alright-Alright-Alright!” he called out, slipping the shades back over his eyes, and pumping his fist into the air. “Who out there is READY?!

The crowd cheered and Maverick laughed boisterously. “Aww, c’mon, you can all do better than that! LEMME HEAR YA!” The man held the mic towards the audience and they cheered even louder. “That’s more like it!” he boomed. “Now, much as I wanna get onto that stage and go wild for you all, that’s not why we’re all here today. I know, I know, I’m the best, it’s a tragedy you won’t hear me…but maybe if we’re lucky, some of these guys and gals we’ve got backstage can almost match! Almost, heh…” Grim’s ears twitched as he heard a sound from behind you both. He looked, then frowned and tapped your shoulder. You looked to see where his paw pointed, and scowled: you could see the glitter of a familiar pair of purple eyes, peeking out from a shadowy corner of the offstage area. However, Taoka’s eyes weren’t focused on you. They were focused on Mokulau. You tried to ignore the strange thief, and refocus attention on the Royal Sword instructor…yet you were keenly aware of his nearby presence the whole time. “Seriously, events like this are really something special,” Mokulau went on, pacing before the judges bar as he continued to address the audience. “Trust me, I’d know: when I was just a kid, livin’ on this very island, I fell in love with music. I could play, I could sing, I was pretty good at it! But, well…let’s just say finding somebody to SUPPORT that music wasn’t easy. I had to leave this place to find a real chance to express my passion, get a scholarship, and eventually become the person you see now…which is, to say, AN AWESOME DUDE.” The audience chortled. Neige giggled. Vil and Crewel looked thoroughly unamused and merely rolled their eyes in unison. “So, anyway, when I found out about a chance to teach at Royal Sword, and to help judge this competition as well, I was hyped! It was a chance to come back to my roots, and to reconnect with something I…well…something I think I lost a long time ago. But we’re not here to hear my drama: we’re here to hear some cool guys try to out-cool yours truly! They’ll probably fail, mind you, BUT the one who gets the closest is gonna go home with somethin’ real special!” Mokulau snapped his fingers. The announcer dashed offstage, then returned with a cart. The audience “oohed” and “ahhed” at what was upon the cart: it looked like a huge trophy cup, made of silver. The handles of the cup arched upwards into a sort of bridge over its mouth…and in the center of the bridge, you saw an ivory-hued, triangular item, with the shape of a fish hook etched into it. “This great silver trophy,” Mokulau declared, “Is topped with my very first guitar pick! Some of my earliest and best concerts were done using that thing…I like to think of it as my way of passing the torch, and a sign of not giving up on your dreams and passions, no matter what they are. Call me sentimental, ha! Trust me, the silver’s worth a lot of money…but that pick? It’s truly priceless. And whoever gets first place in this competition will go home with that shiny puppy in their hands. SO…” He waved one hand extravagantly, and the announcer wheeled the cart and the trophy away. “...I think it’s time I stop yammering your ears off! YOU READY FOR SOME MUSIC?!”  The crowd applauded and called out a resounding “YEAH!” in various forms. “Then let’s get this party started!” howled Mokulau, and gave the mic back to the announcer before rushing to the judge’s station. He sat down with a smirk, crossing his arms and slinging his legs up onto the table in front of him. Vil and Crewel - who sat on either side - cringed and flinched away as he did so. Neige just smiled blithely, clearly unaffected. As the announcer began the proceedings, you realized it was time for you and Grim to get to work.

“Come on,” you whispered to the little imp. “Let’s go.” “Right, Minion,” Grim whispered back…then blinked as he looked past you. “Nya…where’d that purple-haired weirdo go?” You turned and, sure enough, you couldn’t see a single sign of Taoka. “Forget about him,” you sighed, shaking your head and ushering Grim away. “We’ve got a job to do, big guy, let’s move it!” Grim nodded and bounded after you as you each scuttled away to take care of business. Neither of you noticed, as you hurried away, that Taoka hadn’t really left. Purple eyes watched the two of you go, then once again the shadowy sneakthief stepped out of hiding. From his place offstage, he narrowed his eyes, peering over the stage itself towards Mokulau’s cool expression. A strange expression - something that crossed a snarl, a sneer, and a decidedly unpleasant smile all at once - crossed his face. “Well, well, well…been a while since we last met, hasn’t it? If you can call it meeting…” The gloved hand clenched tighter, the fist shaking visibly before Taoka swirled his golden coat and prowled back towards his dressing room. “This time, you won’t be able to ignore me. And to make doubly sure…I’m going to see to it nobody shines like me today.” A slightly unhinged chuckle left the young man. “Then again…way I see it, nobody shines like me at all. But, hey, no harm in remindin’ ‘em of that.”

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“I don’t get it!” squeaked Hop, the blonde dwarf from Royal Sword, as he hurriedly looked around his room. “I had it when I came in!” “I told you to keep a better eye on it!” snapped his friend, Gran, grumpily. “Easy, fellas,” soothed Dominic. “It’s gotta be around seer humswear…I mean, here somewhere!” “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for it,” you promised with a sigh. “Thanks, Stage Manager,” Hop said, with an apologetic smile, rubbing one arm. “I-I’m really sorry about the trouble.” “Trust me, it’s no trouble,” you said, and left the dressing room. Your smile vanished as soon as you did so. “Nya! I think it’s trouble!” Grim protested, huffishly crossing his arms. “How come nobody here is able to keep track of the important things?!” “I don’t think it’s entirely their fault,” you said, softly, scratching your chin as yourself and your companion patrolled the halls of the backstage reaches, where all the singers and performers were getting geared up or resting after their number. So far, however, those who had gone up hadn’t exactly faced smooth sailing. The first contestant had lost their microphone; as a result, their performance suffered, as they couldn’t be properly heard throughout the ampitheater. It was all downhill from there: another contestant lost an important piece of their outfit, and had to hastily throw on different clothes. Not only did this make them late to their cue, but it lessened the impact of their performance, as the costume had built-in lights that were supposed to go off at a certain point during the song. Now, Hop the Dwarf had lost perhaps the most important thing he or any other performer would need: the instrument he had brought to accompany him. These and more issues had plagued nearly every single person who’d gone up so far. ‘This can’t be a coincidence,” you muttered. “It feels like someone is sabotaging the other performers.” “But why?” “Why else? So they can boost their chances of winning,” you snorted. “Oh, yeah,” Grim murmured, nodding slowly. “I guess that would make sense…right! That’s obvious! I-I totally knew that already! Yep!” You could only let out a groaning sort of sigh. “You really ought to care more,” you grumbled. “This is going to make US look bad just as much as anyone onstage. We’re supposed to be on top of things like this.” “You mean…we might not get the money?” sniffled Grim. “You worry about the cash, I’m going to worry about my grade,” you groused in aggravation. “We’ve got to figure out who’s behind this as soon as we can.”

“Well, right now, I don’t think we’re gonna have a chance,” shrugged Grim. “We’re running around too much!” You grumbled again in reply; you knew that, for once, he was right. You’d have to take care of this issue when the show was over, and report things to security accordingly. But you REALLY didn’t like it. You could only imagine how Vil and Crewel were reacting to all this, and what they’d say if they saw it as poor management on your behalf…honestly, that hurt you more than any worries about your actual welfare. Your highly concerned musings were interrupted when one of the assistant stage managers - they had been assigned, not picked by you - came over to you. “Contestant 23 is about to take the stage,” they said. “Good,” you nodded back, and beckoned Grim to follow you. “Come on, it’s our job to bring Contestant 24 into place. They go on immediately after.” Grim nodded, and the two of you went to Number 24’s room. You knocked, and a polite voice from inside called out, “Come in!” You opened the door and smiled as you peered in on the performer inside. Said performer was a student of Royal Sword. Until this day they had been all but a stranger to you. They were slender and small of frame; their somewhat effete yet clearly strong and muscle-toned features vaguely reminded you of Epel or Lilia: petit and slim, yet tough and resilient all at once. He had skin the same bronze-like tone as Maverick Mokulau’s, and hair done up in dreadlocks. He wore a reddish-pink tank top, with striped tropical patterns on it, and beige trousers, with patchwork badges that resembled some sort of yellow flower or coral. His eyes were a rich chocolate brown, and filled with a warm, friendly light. “Number 24?” you checked, just to be safe. The young man nodded as he stood up, and adjusted his personal microphone. “Name’s Keala,” he greeted, extending a hand towards you. “Keala Cravalho.” “Nice to meet you,” you chuckled. “Nya…technically, you saw each other earlier,” huffed Grim. “Yeah, but we were both in a hurry then,” shrugged Keala, and smiled as he knelt down towards Grim. “Didn’t get a chance to say hi to you, either.” “I’m the Great Grim of Night Raven College!” the imp declared, puffing out his fluffy chest. “And don’t you forget it!” Keala chuckled and reached out to playfully ruffle Grim’s headfur. “I won’t,” he said with a teasing smile. Grim growled and swiped at Keala’s hand, batting it away and blushing beneath his gray fur. He grumbled as he straightened out the fluff of his furry noggin. Keala just chuckled louder and stood up again, raising an eyebrow in your direction. “I didn’t realize you two went to Night Raven. You’re not how I expected a lot of students there to be,” he remarked. “Eh. For me, it’s just a place to stay. And learn, I suppose,” you shrugged. This was, in fact, the truth: while you had your own school pride, you’d never felt the intense bitterness towards Royal Sword others at NRC did. Maybe it was because you weren’t originally from this world. “Come on,” you said, and ushered Keala out into the hall. “The act before you is about to go on. It’s time to get moving.”

“Oh-oh, wait a minute!” exclaimed Keala, and hurried back into their room. You frowned as you watched him check the locker of his dressing room. Keala’s smile fell, a look of confusion and then worry on his face. “Is something wrong?” you checked, already dreading the answer. “No,” murmured Keala…then shook his head and spoke a bit louder. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve just, uh…just gotta get my backup plan real quick, hold up…” You and Grim shared a look, mouthing “backup plan?” to each other. Whatever it was, Keala fetched it quickly, tucking something into his pocket. He then nodded and smiled, indicating he was ready to go. Smiling back, you led him out of the backstage area and towards the main stage itself. “You nervous?” you asked as the three of you hastened to your place. “More than a little,” admitted Keala, brushing some of his dreadlocks from his face and giving an anxious sort of smile. “I’ll be okay, though.” “I’m sure you will be,” you smiled back. “You’ve got this.” “Not as much as OUR students have got it,” mumbled Grim. You made sure to jerk his tail for that one, giving him a strict look of reproach. Keala just sniggered at the exchange. Soon, the three of you were in view of the stage. Contestant 22 had just left, and Contestant 23 - in all his purple-and-gold glory - was now stalking onto the stage himself. “Welcome! And what’s your name?” you heard Neige’s voice call out. “Taoka Latronis,” came the somewhat snide reply. “And if I’ve prepared the way I think I have, I’m about to rock your world.” “Well, aren’t we confident?” Vil smirked, steepling his hands and leaning back slightly in his chair. “I try to be, Housewarden,” Taoka replied teasingly. “If you think being one of our students is going to help your chances, puppy, you are sorely mistaken,” Divus Crewel thought to point out. Maverick Mokulau just yawned. “Enough yammering!” he called out, and waved a meaty mitt through the air. “You’re here to perform, so perform. You can’t do anything more wrong than what some of the other clowns so far have.” Taoka’s smirk took on a slightly sinister, sneaky bend.

“Trust me, I know,” he practically purred, then seemed to shake off the aura of darkness. He straightened his back and adjusted the guitar strapped about his golden-clad shoulders. “This song is a short one, so you all know.” “Short doesn’t mean bad,” shrugged Neige, cheerfully. Taoka gave him a quick nod, then took a breath, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on his music. “Ugh…I don’t even wanna HEAR what this guy has to play,” grumbled Grim, and plugged up his fiery ears. “Hey, everyone here put a lot of work into what they’re doing,” soothed Keala. “Give him a chance.” Admittedly, you were on Grim’s side, given Taoka’s behavior…but once his fingers began to work on the guitar, you soon changed your mind. The tune he played was pounding and deep; like something primal, waiting to burst free from his very soul. Discordant, jarring jangles of the guitar strings were accompanied by melodic tones, the strong strumming rising in intensity and pitch with every couple of lines. Taoka kept his eyes closed, his expression filled with a sort of melancholy pain. This sensation matched perfectly with the lyrics he sang, which held a dark, conflicted message… “How you turn my world, you precious thing,” he crooned. “You starve and near-exhaust me. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you! I move the stars for no one. You’ve run so long, run so far!” Suddenly, Taoka’s eyes shot open. They fixed on Mokulau. There was a fiery intensity in them as he continued his song… “Your eyes can be so cruel! Just as I can be so cruel! Though I do believe in you! Yes I do!” Taoka’s eyes softened, and turned up towards the sky. His voice carried a shaky tone, as if trying not to cry. “Live without the sunlight. Love without a heartbeat…” His eyes closed again, just as they had begun to look misty. He turned his head downward again, as his fingers brushed the final, somber notes from the guitar. Huskily, he uttered the final lyrics… “I…I…can’t live…Within You.”

A few more plinking, plunking strums, and the lament came to a close. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in. “That wasn’t too bad,” murmured Keala behind you. “Is it over?” muttered Grim, who had his ears covered the whole time. You just rolled your eyes. Meanwhile, the four judges and the audience behind them applauded. The bitterness that had been written all over Taoka’s face was erased as he smiled hopefully at the competition masters. “So?” he asked, as the applause died down, sounding perhaps a little too playfully sure of himself. “Will it pass?” “It passes for me!” chirped Neige LeBlanche. “You really put a lot of effort into that one, I could tell! There was a lot of emotion, a lot of passion, in what you were doing. It wasn’t very long, but you really sold it to me.You oughta proud of yourself!” Taoka’s broad grin indicated that he was. “Yes,” yawned Vil. “Well, unfortunately we can’t all be so forgiving.” Taoka’s grin fell in an instant. “You may be one of my dorm-mates, but - as both your dorm leader and one of your judges here - I have no choice to be critical,” Vil went on. You couldn’t help but smile slightly to yourself with mild amusement: Vil was ALWAYS critical, regardless. “The emotion you put into the song was truly palpable,” he commended. “I can tell this is a tune you are passionate about, and you did your best accordingly. HOWEVER, I feel you should have chosen a longer piece, to make a bigger impact, just for a start.” “I agree,” nodded Divus Crewel. “Furthermore, while your voice is good, there is a sort of rasping quality to it I couldn’t help but notice. In some places, it is quite effective, but in others, it makes your voice sound weak; I would strongly recommend working on developing more clarity to your vocals.” In a matter of moments, Taoka’s expression had gone from almost smug to looking rather nervous. He turned to face Mokulau. Maverick was looking up at him thoughtfully over the rim of his sunglasses. Finally, the judge spoke. “Sorry, kid, but I can guarantee you aren’t making it to the finals,” he grunted.

You swore you could hear Taoka’s heart shatter. “I didn’t mind the voice, and the song choice seemed fine by me,” explained the tattooed man. “No, my problem stemmed from the strings. Were those discordant sounds I heard intentional?” “Some of them,” peeped Taoka, in a shockingly meek tone. “Well, there’s your biggest issue,” snorted Mokulau, tipping his glasses up again to cover his eyes. “You were able to fake it to the end, but if you can’t play the tune properly, don’t compete over it.” Someone in the audience muttered a quiet, “Ouch.” You couldn’t agree with them more. “Is there anything you want to say before we move on?” Neige asked, politely, a sympathetic smile on his kind face. Taoka gulped. He looked like he’d been kicked in the stomach. You saw him lift his gloved hand. He looked at it with a strange sort of contemplation…then curled the fingers into a fist and shook his head. Once more, you noted the odd way one of his fingers didn’t curl as much as the rest. Suddenly, you weren’t so sure that was just a genetic peculiarity. “Thank you very much,” Neige said. “I still think you did very well! Keep up the good work!” Taoka gave no indication he had even heard what LeBlanche said. He stalked off towards the backstage area. He cast one last hate-filled glance over his shoulder at Maverick - the rock-star-turned-teacher didn’t seem to notice - then pushed someone out of the way as he stormed off into the shadows, golden coat fluttering behind him.

“Nya…talk about a guy who can’t take criticism,” Grim hissed. “Forget about him,” you sighed, then smiled at Keala as the announcer called for the next contestant. “Now’s your time to shine.” “Thanks,” whispered Keala with a grateful smile. He tossed his dreadlocks out of his face with a flourish of one hand, and sauntered onstage. “Greetings,” Vil welcomed, with a respectful sort of bow of his head. “We’re glad to have you with us today.” “I’m glad to be here!” Keala said, and gave a salute to Maverick. “Hey there, Mr. Mokulau! Hi, Neige.” Both of the Royal Sword members waved in greeting. “You know them?” Crewel inquired. “Neige is in my class, and Mr. Mokulau’s one of my teachers,” Keala replied. “Don’t worry: I don’t expect either of them to go easy on me.” “Well, you can be sure of that with one of us,” chuckled Mokulau. “Hey! I can be strict!” pouted Neige, childishly. “It’s just harder for me!” The two teachers chuckled. Vil just groaned and pinched his brow; it was as if every word LeBlanche uttered was painful to his mind. Then he looked up again at the newest competitor. “What is your name?” “Keala Cravalho.” “I don’t see any instrument on you,” Schoenheit observed, raising one immaculate eyebrow. A brief look of anxiety crossed the young man’s face. “Heh heh…yeeeeah, about that…” “Did you forget it?” Crewel asked, blandly. “Oh, no!” insisted Keala. “I brought it with me, but it…doesn’t seem to be in my dressing room anymore.” You and Grim shared a worried look. Whoever was taking things from the contestants had struck again. “Just like with Hop,” you heard Neige murmur sadly. “What do you plan to do then?” wondered Professor Crewel. “Sing a-capella?” Keala’s anxiety gave way to a sly smile. “Actually,” he said, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, waggling it in the air. “I came prepared. See, my grandmother always taught me to have a backup plan, in case things went wrong. So, in case something happened to my instrument, I actually recorded a full instrumental for the song, so I could still have my own accompaniment!” “I’m impressed,” admitted Vil. “Such foresight would have helped a couple of contestants today.” “Not every contestant knew my grandma,” winked Keala. “If somebody could help me set this up to the speakers…”

You took that liberty personally. You scampered onstage with Grim, and the pair of you quickly hooked up the phone to the speakers, and reworked the mic, so that Keala’s music and voice wouldn’t bury each other or bust the audio levels. It thankfully did not take very long, and soon yourself and your trident-tailed companion hurried off again. You gave a final thumbs-up to the judges and Keala alike, and high-fived (well…high-pawed) Grim as you vanished back into the wings. “Ready now?” Mokulau checked. “Yeah. I’m ready,” said Keala, and looked back at the judges. “This is a song my grandma taught me. It’s based on the legend of a princess who used to live right here on Sage’s Island. Maybe some of you will know the legend.” “Well, let’s hear it!” cheered Neige. Keala nodded and tapped the play button on the recording before hastily scurrying to center stage. He had just a few seconds to breathe and collect himself before the music started. A slow build gave him a chance to envelope himself in the moment; you saw his face relax…and his eyes slowly reopened. He stared off into the distance, as if looking out towards the horizon…and began to sing… “She’s been staring at the edge of the water, long as she can remember, never really knowing why. She’s wished she could be the perfect daughter, but she comes back to the water, no matter how hard she tries.” The music began to build, a pumping, determined, unstoppable quality to the music. Keala’s voice strengthened in turn, from the gentle notes of a storyteller to something more powerful as he began to stride across the stage, singing directly to the audience. “Every turn she takes! Every trail she tracks! Every path she makes! Every road leads back to the place she knows where she cannot go: where she longs to be…” Keala tilted his head back as if soaking in the sunlight from above…listening to the distant waves upon the beach… “And she says…‘see the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me! And no one knows how far it goes! With the wind in my sail on the sea, behind me, one day I’ll know! But if I go, there’s just no telling How Far I’ll Go.’” You glanced towards Grim to see his reaction. The imp seemed mesmerized, mouth slightly agape, eyes sparkling like a hypnotized kitten. You giggled, and then looked towards the judges. Mokulau had lowered his sunglasses; he was watching with very intense interest. Neige was beaming from ear to ear. Even Vil and Professor Crewel had raised their brows in apparent surprise, as the golden voice continued its song… “She knows everybody on the island seems so happy on the island! Everything is by design. Oh, she knows everybody on the island has a role on the island! She says, ‘Maybe I can roll with mine!’ She could lead with pride! She could make them strong! She’ll be satisfied if she plays along! But a voice inside sings a different song: ‘What is wrong with me?!’” As the question was asked in the lyrics, you caught sight of something else. On the opposite side of the stage, Taoka had suddenly reappeared. The disgraced youth’s eyes were exceedingly wide, and his jaw seemed to have fallen onto his chest. His skin had even turned a shade or two paler. He didn’t just seem surprised. He seemed downright SHOCKED. You couldn’t help but feel a mild twinge of satisfaction at that, even as the next chorus began to roll off Keala’s tongue… “‘See the light where it shines on the sea? It’s blinding! But no one knows how deep it goes! And it seems like it’s calling out to me: so come find me! And let me know what’s beyond that line. Will I cross that line?’” The key changed, and the music kicked up a notch. Keala’s voice soared straight to the heavens, eliciting cheers from the audience. No longer did he sing in the third person, the words coming directly from his heart as he called out the final chorus… “There’s a line where the sky meets the sea! It calls me! And no one knows how far it goes! If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me, one day I’ll know…HOW FAR I’LL GO!”

The final words ended in a long, powerful, strong note, and Keala’s dreadlocks whipped forward as he finished with a sharp bow, the music crescendoing and coming to a halt at the same time. The audience applauded louder than they had that whole time. All four judges clapped, and you could hear Neige laughing and cheering, “That was so great!” You looked towards Grim with a smirk. He still looked hypnotized. You snapped your fingers in front of his face. He mewled and shook his head, blinking at you blearily. “Sounded pretty good, huh?” you teased. Grim frowned and huffed, looking quite embarrassed.

“I guess so,” he muttered. “For somebody from Royal Sword.” You just scritched him behind the ears in response. By the time he started purring, the crowd had calmed down. “I don’t even have words for that!” Neige declared. “That’s gotta be one of the best performances I’ve seen and heard in a while!” “I find it hard to disagree,” Vil said, although it sounded like he VERY much wanted to, if only BECAUSE it was Neige. “While I personally feel your sentimentality was a bit overwrought, your voice is pure and your recording did nothing to negatively influence your performance.” “I second all that. And quite clearly the audience loves you,” added Professor Crewel. “Bravo, you daaahling puppy. Bravo, indeed!” Keala gave all three a grateful, speechless nod, then looked towards Mokulau. His eyes were filled with a sort of cautious optimism. Mokulau grinned back and nodded before giving a thumbs-up. “You made me proud, kid,” was all he said. “And I bet your grandma feels the same way.” Several in the audience clapped again. You could actually see Keala’s large brown eyes go slightly misty. “Thank you,” he almost whispered. “You’re welcome!” Maverick sang back. Keala bowed to the judges, and scurried back towards you. You laughed as he whispered a hasty thanks to you, as well, and waved farewell to him. You then glanced back towards the stage to see the next contestant. As you did so, however, your smile faded. Taoka was still standing on the opposite end There were no mortal words to describe the utter and complete look of hatred on his face as he looked first in the direction Keala had gone, then at Mokulau. Then, with a snarl and a sneer, he disappeared once again.

“Come on, Minion!” Grim yowled, tugging at your leg. “We still have work to do!” “Coming,” you whispered, and hesitantly followed Grim, glancing back repeatedly to where you had seen Taoka. You had a very bad feeling inside your chest…and if your time in this world had taught you anything, it was to trust those instincts. You wished it had also taught you to learn what those instincts specifically meant.

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Afternoon was beginning to change into evening when the competition came to a close. You had been told who the winner was, and now waited with them backstage, ready to usher them on at the cue. The Announcer stepped to the center of the stage, and declared that the time had come to present the silver trophy - topped with Maverick Mokulau’s treasured pick - to the first place contender. Naturally, Maverick himself stepped up onstage to present the award. The announcer hurried off to wheel the cart onstage once more. The other three judges all stood a pace or two behind Maverick, hands behind their backs, as if at attention, patiently waiting for him to make the presentation. “I think my fellow judges and I can agree that picking a winner for this contest was pretty tough. There were a lot of hiccups today in some of the performances, but these kids…they knew their stuff, and they clearly all worked hard,” he chuckled. “There’s only room for one proper winner, though…and that winner is…KEALA CRAVALHO!” You grinned and gave Keala a pat on the back. “Go!” you whispered, and the Royal Sword student’s dreadlocks bounced as he jogged onstage. He shook hands with Professor Crewel, Neige LeBlanche, and Vil Schoenheit (who visibly wiped his hands on his trouser legs afterwards). Then he approached Maverick Mokulau. The rock star tipped his sunglasses back onto his forehead, his hazel eyes filled with pride as he lifted the trophy from the cart. “Congratulations, kid,” he smiled. “You’ve really earned this today.” Keala beamed, and reached to accept the trophy… …And that, it seemed, was the moment fate chose to make everything go wrong. ZAM! Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of golden light. It flooded the entire stage, and even seared into the retinas of some in the audience. Gasps and yelps of surprise and alarm sounded from all corners. “What IS this?!” you heard Professor Crewel screech, as he shielded his eyes with one fur-shrouded arm, recoiling from the flash. “Trouble,” you heard Grim hiss at your side. You couldn’t agree more: the light soon vanished… …And the whole crowd in attendance gasped in horror. Maverick Mokulau gulped, absolutely stunned…as he looked at his now empty hands. The trophy had vanished too!

To Be Continued in Part 3...