#cordiewrites

Miitopia was a peaceful place, once.

Not so much anymore.

No. It hasn’t been a safe place, not for–

–for–

–since the Dark Lord came, which was–

–how long ago? It was…

No one can seem to remember exactly. Was it forever ago? It feels like it was, but… when you blink away the shadows lurking at the corner of your vision, you agree that it can’t have been more than a few years, since he made his appearance in Karkaton, turning the land into a fiery shadow of its former self. When you think on it… yes, yes. You clearly remember hearing the news about Karkaton. It wasn’t too long ago.

And yet, you can’t shake the feeling like the shadows in the corner of your eye have been there longer than you can remember.

How odd.

Story Averett is sixteen years old. She is five feet and eleven inches tall, though it’s a few inches shorter in practicality given her tendency to slump, and she weighs a hundred and forty eight pounds. And most importantly, she is alone.

She’s been alone for quite some time, really, and she’s traveled an awful long distance away from home. She’s hungry a lot, and cold a lot, and it’s hard to find places to sleep when you’re a sixteen year old girl traveling alone with no money, and it’s hard to travel very far very fast when you have to avoid monsters lurking around every shadow-infested corner of Miitopia, which is apparently all of them. She can’t seem to catch a break.

Despite traveling for months trying to find a part of Miitopia that hasn’t been taken over at least in part by the Dark Lord’s forces, she hasn’t reached one yet. All she wants is one spot of light, and so she travels west, west, west, every day and night, alone and cold and hungry and scared.

Story Averett arrives in Greenhorne with a heavy feeling in her heart. Greenhorne borders the coast. If the Dark Lord is here, there isn’t any place she can go where he won’t be. For better or for worse, this is the end of her journey.

Or so she thought.

[...] years ago.

“We can’t keep doing this,” says a tired voice.

“You, maybe,” laughs another. “I can keep doing this forever.” “If we keep [...],” argues [RXXXXXXX], “the structural integrity of this world-”

“-will [...], I know, you’ve said it over and over,” [OXXXXXXX] says exasperatedly. “Then we can [...].”

“I don’t want to give up on this world,” [RXXXXXXX] pleads. [...] [OXXXXXXX] laughs. “You know me. It’s just not in my nature. Now, come on. Let’s [...]” No response. And then, a tired, quiet, “Maybe this time it will be different.”

“You and I both know it won’t be,” [OXXXXXXX] says. “Unless you decide to give up this time and let me win.”

“You know I can’t do that.” “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse, then.”

Silence.

“Come on, [RXXXXXXX]. Let’s go.” There’s an audible grin in [OXXXXXXX]’s voice. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

Somewhere, there is a cleric mourning the loss of her mother.

Somewhere, there is a warrior running from a past he knows will catch up to him one day.

Somewhere, there is a mage following orders and wondering if it’s really the right thing to do.

Somewhere, there is an imp locked up and crying for the light of day.

Somewhere, there is a chef biding his time for the right time to strike.

Somewhere, there is a scientist wishing for something more than what she has.

Somewhere, there is a pop star singing a message she isn’t sure she believes in anymore.

Somewhere, there is a tank looking after the only thing she has left to protect.

Somewhere, there is a flower ruminating on the life they lost long ago.

Somewhere, there is a Dark Lord in a castle, planning an attack on the last city to the west.

Somewhere, there is a Guardian Spirit locked away, waiting to be discovered, craving to be used again.

All of these things will collide, eventually.

But for now–

For now, Story Averett walks into Greenhorne.

Let’s begin.

Story Averett, all sixteen years, five feet eleven inches, and one hundred and forty eight pounds of her, did not expect to become an adventurer today. But, well, here we are, anyway—a resplendent show of lights and sparks leaves her breathless and dizzy with newfound power under her fingertips. The charm around her neck, nestled safely under her bandana, glimmers with the same power she felt surging through her veins.

It may not seem like much from the outside, just a fancy new outfit and a knife, but Story can feel it coursing through her. This is the difference between being a traveler and an adventurer, a hero—this is the thrill Story had been seeking.

She catches her breath after rescuing the face of the young child from the village, looking at the knife in her hands.

Story knows she should be more worried, because this place, this kingdom—this is a Greenhorne a little different from the one you know, perhaps, and heroes are harder to come by and much less appreciated than you might think. Especially thieves, who have a reputation for, well, they’re not called thieves for no reason. She’s not likely to get much welcome, now. But something in her thinks that maybe it’s worth it, just for this.

She pockets her knife and heads towards town. She’s got a kid to make sure is all right.

This is a Miitopia where being a hero is not just a title. Being a hero of the light means having divinity on your side—nameless gods from times before strung on charms or hidden in pockets, lending you strength and power. When you’re facing the forces of darkness, you need more than just the light of one lonely soul to guide you. Without a little extra to back you up, you’ll have no chance, and soon the forces of darkness will seep in and puppet you, too, just like the things you tried so valiantly to fight against.

This is a Greenhorne where, maybe, things are a little darker than they have been. A place where whispers of the Dark Lord to the east have long since reached like fingers into the minds of people, metaphorically if not literally, spreading panic and hysteria rippling through every town. There used to be light, there used to be heroes. But then the heroes started losing, and as the forces of darkness poured in people turned against those they once trusted to keep them safe. Darkness is drawn to light like a moth to a flame, after all, and who’s to say these heroes aren’t the ones bringing it to us in the first place? They were driven out, or worse, and now, instead of heroes, high walls and bright lanterns fueled by divine energy keep the darkness out.

It’s not working particularly well. But hardly anyone notices when a few shadows slip in through the cracks until it’s too late. Cities of shadow puppets dance in the flickering candles, and no one’s the wiser.

The town of Greenhorne is not shadow puppets, though there is certainly more darkness than there should be. It’s farther west, almost right on the edge of the continent, and the Dark Lord’s influence hasn’t spread quite that far yet. Or at least, it hadn’t, not until today, not until the last place of light to the west fell to the shadows as the Dark Lord paid it a personal visit.

Now, with a burning light inside her, as Story steps through the gates, it’s all she can feel, shadows writing and creeping all around her. She curls around the guardian charm instinctively, though whether it’s to protect them or so they can protect her she doesn’t know. Still, she keeps a bright smile on her face, walking past people who stare at her from the places where their faces should be and towards the mother clutching her child.

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes tearful. “Thank you, so much.”

“Of course,” Story responds. “It’s what a hero would do, right?”

There’s something in the mother’s eyes, and Story wonders if maybe she’d used the antique charm before. Certainly enough to know the dangers of the shadows, more than the others in this town who think this facelessness is the end of it. (It is not the end of it. Story had always thought it was, too, but under the light she can feel something growing inside the faceless ones. She wonders how deep the Dark Lord’s influence goes.)

“Yes,” the mother says. “Yes, it is.”

Story can tell the others in town are wary. It’s been so long since a real hero has been around, and they don’t quite know how to act around her, especially since thieves don’t exactly have the best reputation to begin with. Being a hero - a real hero, a divine hero - is something that’s become so uncommon that Story herself had only heard legends and whispers.

(But that’s odd. Something in her frowns. Hasn’t the Dark Lord only been here a few years? Why have heroes been gone for as long as she can remember? Why is it that when the Guardian Spirit lent her its divine power, she could feel shadows that had been there so long she couldn’t remember a time without them receding from her mind?)

So Story puts on a smile as she approaches the mayor of the town.

“My name is Story,” she says. “I’m a hero. I’m here to help.” The mayor eyes her suspiciously, but he’s in absolutely no place to deny her help at this point, not in the sorry state the town is in. “All right,” he says. “The town is in shambles, thief… I don’t know what to do. Can you help fight off the Dark Lord’s forces?”

Story isn’t sure she can, but something compels her to nod anyway. “Of course,” she says. “I’ll get everyone’s faces back. I promise.”

The mayor looks like he still isn’t sure, but, well, she did save that child’s face. He nods. “All right. Here.” He gestures for her to follow him into his office.

She does so, and he pulls out some parchment and stops writing. “What are you doing, sir?”

“Well, if you’re going to be saving us, we may as well be paying you,” he grumbles. “How does 200 gold for every face you find sound?”

Story’s eyes widen. “That’s more than enough, sir.”

He nods quickly. “Well, I don’t know about more than enough, but it’ll cover your travel expenses, at least.” He holds out the piece of paper, a contract. “This is the last city to the west, thief. We cannot let it fall.”

Story looks at it and wavers. Just today she was a hopeless runaway with nothing to her name. A hero? Really?

But… they need her. They all do. All of Miitopia does.

She sets her face in determination and nods firmly. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

The mayor grins. “You better not, thief.”

A little while later, Story settles herself into a room at the inn and sighs. It’s still early, but it’s been a long day, and Story just wants to rest.

But there’s something she has to do first.

She holds the guardian charm in both hands. Despite having only just picked it up, the glass feels warm under her fingers, almost like she’s been holding it for a while. Or, no - the warmth is coming from inside the glass, like a tiny bit of sunlight has been trapped inside, swirling in shades of blue.

“Can we talk?” Story asks, holding her breath.

Nothing happens, for a minute, and Story scowls. “Just gonna give me the silent treatment? I oughta-” She lets out a yelp as the charm heats up and starts to glow, and she feels her soul separate from her body with a distinct ripping sensation - but faster than pain can set in, it’s soothed by a calming feeling of magic swirling through her, and then she’s back in the endless blue of the guardian charm.

“...hi,” she says.

Hello, my child, the guardian spirit says. It’s been a long day, and I understand I didn’t have the time to explain very well beforehand. I suspect you have questions?

“Heck yeah, I do,” she says. “You’d better have answers.”

We’ll see, they say. Ask away, my child.

Story nods, despite not being sure if this mysterious voice can see them, and thinks a minute. “Why… why me?”

Why you? The guardian spirit seems to chuckle. You were meant to be a hero, Story.

“I.” Story shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not too sure that I am, actually? I mean, not to be, like, rude, but… I really don’t think I was, um, the best… choice, maybe?”

What do you mean by that?

She fidgets, tugging at the bandana around her neck. “I’m not… I’m not a hero. I’m just - some dumb runaway. I don’t think I’m cut out to save anyone, let alone… all of Greenhorne.”

Story… oh, my child. The spirit sighs, its voice a warm and gentle breeze against her - well, not her ears, exactly, she’s not sure she’s exactly hearing things in this weird blue pocket-dimension, but it’s like a pure sensation of comfort blooming in her chest. Story Averett, from the moment I came into contact with you I could sense the spark of a hero’s soul within you. You may not think you’re cut out to save Greenhorne, but with time, I know you could save all of Miitopia.

Story’s breath hitched, and she swallowed thickly. “A-all of Miitopia? That’s kind of a… a hefty order… I thought heroes were just supposed to, um, protect-”

-towns? the guardian finishes. Story, we’re much past small-town protectors. The Dark Lord has taken over almost all of southern Miitopia. If you don’t stop him now… There’s no one else who will.

“Ah,” Story says. “But no pressure, though, right?”

Oh, Story… Do not feel afraid, they reassure her. I’m certain you can do it.

“Right,” Story says quietly. She’s... not so certain, to say the least.

But… this guardian spirit, this god, or whatever they are, they believe in her. Story closes her eyes and steels herself. If she’s all they’ve got, then… she’s at least got to try. For Miitopia. For her family.

A hero, huh?

“So, uh, what’s the game plan here, GS?” she asks. “How do I defeat the Dark Lord?”

The guardian spirit seems pleased with her determination as they reply, Focus on Greenhorne now. On getting stronger. Save this town, and travel east. All the way to Karkaton, where the Dark Lord’s forces lie. That’s where you’ll face him.

Story lets out a breath. “That’s a long way away.”

It is, the guardian concedes. But you won’t have to do it alone. I’ve called forth some companions for you. They should arrive within a few days. And… you have myself, as well. Always.

Story smiles slightly, a little nervous. “Good to know,” she says.

The abilities I’ve given you are powerful, but you need to learn how to use them, they say. Luckily, the Dark Lord is weak in this area. You should have no trouble defeating his minions, which will in turn give you more strength. And don’t be afraid to call on my abilities if you need extra assistance.

“Thank you,” Story says. “I’ll probably need it.”

I suspect you’ll need it less than you think you will, child, they chuckle. You should set out eastward, for the first face, in the morning. In the meantime, however, you need rest. It’s been a long day.

“Right,” Story says, closing her eyes. “Goodnight, GS.”

Goodnight, my child, comes the voice like a whisper, and a fluttery feeling of magic and the movement of her soul. When she opens her eyes again, she’s back in the inn room.

Story curls her hand around the guardian charm for comfort, and then sets it carefully down on the table by her bed.

“Watch out, Dark Lord,” she says weakly, trying to convince herself more than anything. “I’m coming for you.”

She passes out the minute her head hits the pillow.

The next day finds Story standing shakily in front of a monster just outside of Greenhorne, knife in hand. It’s just a butterfly, she tells herself. A butterfly with someone’s eyes, her brain responds. Shut up, she tells herself, and charges.

Her knife makes contact and Story thinks it does some damage, but it’s hard to tell exactly because this thing is made of, like, rock or something and doesn’t have any blood. Story, on the other hand, does have blood, but thankfully none of it comes out when the rock moth hits her back. Hard.

Story is knocked backwards, and before she can muster the strength to get back on her feet again the rock moth has fluttered away. She lets out a groan and clutches her stomach, where the monster had hit her.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she says, not for the first time that day.

The sound of the guardian spirit’s spiritual “voice” is something Story has quickly become accustomed to, and so when it filters into her brain with a Don’t worry, she doesn’t even jump. You’ve hit a bit of trouble there, don’t you? I’ve got just the thing to help.

And then that familiar burst of magic swirls through her hand and out of it, and Story is holding a small container of… something. It looks almost like a salt shaker, but it’s yellow, and what’s inside looks like flecks of gold.

“What is this?” Story asks, turning it around in her hands.

It’s called… Well, it’s been given a lot of names, but they’re technically called HP sprinkles. They’ll restore your health in a pinch, by-

“Sprinkles… Like cake? Can I eat them?”

No, Story, you’re not supposed to–

“I’m gonna eat ‘em.” Story opens her mouth and turns the shaker upside down over it, a few flakes falling into it. Almost immediately, she spits them out. “Euch!”

I did warn you, dear.

“Could’ve warned me a little better!”

I tried, my child. The guardian spirit sounds exasperated. You didn’t listen. The way you’re actually supposed to use them is by sprinkling them over your head.

“Like, uh.” Story hesitantly holds up the bottle. “Like this?

Yes.

“Feels a little silly, but okay.” Story shakes, and golden flakes come out and dance through her hair before turning into golden magic that swirls into her. She blinks, stretching. “Oh, wow. That is a lot better. Thank you!”

Of course, the guardian spirit says. I’m here to help you, Story. Don’t forget that.

“Right,” Story says. “Thanks, um… You know, you’ve helped me out so much and I don’t even know your name!”

The guardian spirit seems a bit surprised at the question. It’s been some time since someone asked my name… Hm. You may call me Radiance.

“Radiance,” Story says. “Funky.”

Is it not good?

“No, it’s a cool name! I like funky.” She pockets the bottle of HP sprinkles and tosses her knife in the air, trying to catch it.

She misses, of course, and it falls to the ground, but she doesn’t let that bother her, scooping it back up. “Let’s go find another monster to fight. I think I can beat it this time.”

That’s the spirit, Story!

Story grins. “The guardian spirit - sorry, sorry, I had to.” She holds her knife at the ready and proceeds down the route.

The next rock moth she comes across, she’s ready. She takes a deep breath and holds up the knife, feeling her shaking hand still, light and magic swirling around inside her.

She throws the knife, which hits the moth and ricochets off, and then neatly grabs it back out of the air.

Story lets out a gasping breath. “I did it!”

Yes, you did - now look out!

Story yelps and is just a bit too late dodging the rock moth’s attack, getting hit again, and winces. But she gets back up, huffing out a breath, and tosses her knife.

This time, the rock moth bursts into the same light energy the first slime she’d fought had turned into, a floating bubble with someone’s face in it floating off into the sky towards its owner.

“I did it!” Story says, hopping from one leg to the other eagerly. “I did it!”

I’m proud of you, my child, Radiance says. Every monster you defeat helps another person get their face back, and brings you one step closer to defeating the Dark Lord.

Story sighs. “But we still haven’t found any of the faces of people from Greenhorne Town…”

You will, Story, don’t worry. It will all come in due time. For now, just focus on getting stronger, and eventually, you’ll be able to save the town.

“...Right,” Story says. “And - and then we…”

Move on to the capital, Radiance says. I’m certain that if we save the castle we can chase the Dark Lord’s forces out of Greenhorne entirely. And eventually, we can take back all of Miitopia.

Story feels anxiety fluttering in her gut again. “...Right,” she says. “What exactly, I mean… What’s the Dark Lord’s plan, even? Besides, like, taking over Miitopia? What are they gonna do once they do?”

She shivers as she feels something dark pass through the guardian spirit. They’re after control, my child. Control over everyone and everything. They just want to cover the whole land in darkness. And anyone who still stands with the light will be destroyed.

“Oh,” Story says in a small voice.

That’s why you’re so important, Story, Radiance says. Why we’re so important. I could sense it from the first moment I met you, how much light you had inside of you. With my help, you can banish all of the darkness in Miitopia.

“Right,” Story says, squeezing her eyes shut. “Right. Right. I can do this. I can do this.”

Of course you can. I believe in you.

“Then.” Story takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Then let’s go fight some monsters.”

Elsewhere.

The Princess of Greenhorne is sitting on the roof of the castle.

Something is very, very wrong with her kingdom. She knows this, in the roots of her soul, and her heart hurts thinking about it. She wants to help, but every time she things about why it is wrong or what she can do to help, her thoughts turn fuzzy and her head feels like it’s splitting open until she stops.

Her father is doing nothing about it. He laughs off the reports he’s heard (for - for - for how long have they been coming in? She can’t quite remember) and pretends that Greenhorne is still such a peaceful place.

The Princess knows that it is not. Something is hiding in the dark, something dangerous, something ruining them all. And no one is doing anything about it. Out of the corner of her eye, sometimes, she sees something lurking in the shadows, something that makes her brain hurt to think about but that she can’t afford to stop thinking about. Everyone else in the castle may be able to pretend everything is fine, but she can’t. She won’t allow herself to.

Everyone treats her like someone who must be protected. Like a damsel in distress. Her father, her guards, her lover - none of them want her to “waste” her time worrying about things, none of them want her in danger. She’s supposed to be pretty and ornamental and nothing else.

She can’t abide by that.

Rhiannon is going to rule the kingdom one day and by God she’s going to make sure she still has a kingdom to rule.

“Trade places with me,” she says to a guard in a whisper.

It takes a while to get the guard to trade places with her, but it’s almost a perfect match.

She wonders if anyone will even notice she’s gone. If she’s really so ornamental, so useless - they might not. She tells no one, not even her lover, and slips out of the castle one night with nothing to her name but a few gold pieces and a sword strapped to her belt. She grits her teeth.

Whoever’s out there, threatening her kingdom -

They better watch out.

kind of a transition chapter, which is a bit weird for the first chapter? but i have never found the beginning of miitopia particularly compelling, and it’s been covered in a lot of stories, so this chapter is focusing less on plot and more on developing story’s character. i also wanted to portray the effect that going from a “simple traveler” to a hero expected to save the whole world in one day might have on someone, which is why story was hesitant through much of this chapter and will continue to be that way for a while.

the part near the beginning describing the state of miitopia isn’t just pretty prose. a lot of it will come back. both the stuff about the darkness and the stuff about heroes. i made the decision pretty early on in the planning process that heroes were going to be not super well-liked in this version of miitopia, and that there were going to be specific reasons why. i know there’s a lot of weird stuff going on here, but hopefully it’ll all get explained by the end!

also, the bit about the princess - i don’t want to say much now, but keep an eye out for her, she’ll be back! :) she’s only one of many changes i’m making to the plot, in an effort to make this more than a straight-up retelling of the game.

the official name of this story is now Cycles, by the way! if/when i ever get around to publishing it on AO3 it’ll be under that name. it’ll make more sense as time goes on.