He awoke.

He was fed.

And then he succumbed to the embrace of sleep.

The cycle repeated itself.

Again.

And again.

His perception of the world was hazy, as if he was experiencing it from the lens of a dream. His mother’s face flitted in and out of his memory, his consciousness still too weak to hold the image out of his face.

Frustration was an emotion that he had grown accustomed to, though if he held his discontent for too long he would involuntarily burst into tears.

He did not know how many days passed before his mind once again sparked with clarity.

He was Ryan.

Ryan Kimura.

Those words seemed to be etched into his soul.

Who was Ryan Kimura?

He wanted to know more.

He needed to know more.

A splitting headache tore through his skull, sending a burst of warm tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

He forgot what he wanted to know more about.

Then he began to loudly cry.

“Altair? What’s wrong, my child?” The concerned, angelic voice of his mother cut through the agony wreaking havoc upon his mind.

Although he did not know why, his instincts told him one thing very clearly:

‘Do not cry in front of your mother.’

So the three month old child did his best to hold back his tears, his cries mellowing into sobs.

His mother picked him up and pulled him into a warm embrace.

Soon, the child was fast asleep.

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‘The Void’.

That was what Ryan had come to understand the seemingly infinite pool of knowledge nestled within his mind.

Each time he delved into the void, he gained a deeper understanding of the world. Fragmented pieces that slowly hinted toward greater truths. Flashes of unfamiliar faces that prompted familiar emotions in his heart.

He could not be greedy when it came to the void.

Seeking too much information at once was a poison that caused immense pain to arc through his head.

He had to be patient.

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Even though there was so much he wanted to know.

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Altair.

He had decided that he would be called Altair.

Mother called him Altair.

So, naturally, his name was Altair.

The ground beneath his hands was soft and fluffy. There was no discomfort to his knees as he crawled forward.

He was curious.

For there was another like him.

One that mother’s voice addressed with the utmost of love and care.

‘Nocturne,’ was the name mother had given her.

That made her his….

His what?

Altair once again beckoned to the void.

Even though it hurt to remember.

He had to know.

A second later, Altair’s eyes widened a little.

His sister.

Nocturne was his sister.

Warmth filled his heart, matched by a burning curiosity.

The sound of hollow wood clashing against a hard surface rang out as Altair drew closer.

Nocturne was seated upon the same soft floor he was crawling upon. A tuft of unblemished white hair rested upon her head. Her silver eyes ignored his presence, her attention focused upon an oddly shaped block of wood that she was irritatedly hammering against a small-wooden table of sorts that had similar oddly shaped holes cut out of his surface.

“Gu-gu!” Nocturne whacked the oddly shaped wooden piece against the table again.

That drew Altair’s attention.

‘What is my sister trying to do?’

Altair was curious.

Memories of excruciating pain flashed through his mind.

He knew the consequences of reaching too deep into the void.

Yet, he could not resist.

It was a matter that concerned his sister, not him.

That was why he steeled himself.

‘Answer me!’

A minute later, Altair’s eyes shot open.

He noticed things that he hadn’t before.

The other wooden blocks scattered around the carpet. The similarity between the wooden block Nocturne was holding and the cutout positioned at the top-left of the board.

‘A shape-sorting puzzle.’

“Gu-gah!” Altair’s attempt to vocalise his intentions miserably failed but it shifted Nocturne’s attention from the wooden block to him.

“Ba!” Altair confidently crawled forward until he was facing a sword-shaped wooden block.

Using his left hand to support himself, his right hand slapped the wooden block, sending it tumbling until it harmlessly crashed against Nocturne’s side.

“Gu?” Nocturne seemed to be startled by her brother’s actions.

She watched as Altair crawled back to her side before seating himself with some deal of exertion.

Altair’s small, pudgy hands picked up the sword-shaped wooden block, lifting up in the sky.

“Gu-Gu!” He yelled out a war cry as his hands crashed downwards.

Nocturne did not understand what was happening, but she was curious.

The sword-shaped piece perfectly fit its designated hole, latching into place with a loud click.

Isadora Elsie-Willowdale, who had been maintaining a close watch over her children, blinked.

Nocturne’s gaze slowly shifted between the puzzle and her brother.

“Gu-Gu-Gah!” She exclaimed, raising both her hands up in the sky in triumph.

Altair did not know why, but he found himself greatly pleased by the reaction.

So much so that he reached out with his hand, his small baby hand gently falling upon Nocturne’s forehead before he gave her a gentle caress.

‘This is my sister.’