It was dark.

In every direction, every way, it was complete; and it was deafening. The void was silent, still. It may have held nothing at all; it may have held the universe. None could tell. For an undeterminable amount of time, that was all there was.

   Then, at last, he felt something.

   It began as a dull ache, hardly discernible; but that did not last long. It soon grew, more and more rapidly, into a great ball of pain burning within - followed by an overall feeling of sickness.

   And then there was something else, something even worse; a sharp, biting -

   "Luigi!!" he jerked upright, clutching his dreadful arm. Coming awake all in one instant, he slowly caught his breath at what he had done. Peeling his hand back in horror, he stared at his own crimson-soaked glove.

   Thank all the stars above he was alone.

   When Mario came to, the secret altar was once again empty. It was a welcome surprise, at least as far as the man in the portrait was concerned. King Boo had been in and out as he pleased several times now – each time seeming more stressed than the last.

   That was not a bad thing in itself; but usually the distractions weren't enough. Rather, they only seemed to make things worse.

   Mario had begun to sincerely dread the king's visits. He wasn't sure exactly how many times he'd been knocked out anymore – King Boo took out his anger on him whenever he felt like it, for whatever reason he felt like; even if it had nothing to do with his prisoner at all. That was why the king's wrath was so dangerous.

   Each memory fogged up Mario's vision, reminding him of the terror he could face yet again and again; it was certainly something to be feared. Mario had fallen into a most miserable rhythm: the long grind of captivity between the far-too-often punishments. Each time he woke it was as if into the same old nightmare.

   Now, he let out a wheezing breath and tried to make himself comfortable in his tiny prison. Beyond the dread and the discomfort, there was another component too - what an embarrassment this all was. Look at what they'd done... what they were still doing to him without resistance! This was so wrong... how vulnerable he'd become!

   What would any of his friends think – the princess – if she could see him now? Mario closed his eyes, feeling awful. So then this – this was something of what it must feel like to be kidnapped. What Peach went through often at the hands of Bowser... how did she ever manage to wait so patiently in her captivity?

   Unable to contain himself, Mario slammed a fist on his barrier. Well, Princess Peach had never been treated this unfairly – nowhere near it. Of that, at least, he could be grateful. But he knew the princess was also much more patient and understanding than he was.

   Suddenly he could see her; only that afternoon they had been together, on that beautiful day that seemed a lifetime ago. So far from this; no dark mansions, no eerie forests, and no evil kings. Just the Mushroom Kingdom, bursting with life and color as always; and all had seemed perfect as they took a walk in the fields. Her long, golden hair had shone in the sun, and her blue eyes sparkled when she looked at him and took his hand unexpectedly. Her gorgeous pink gown had been messed in the grass, but of that she cared little; and for a long time the two had relaxed under the sunny sky, watching the clouds sailing by.

   His day had only seemed to escalate when he returned with her to the castle to be told he'd gotten a call from his brother, saying something about a contest... and Mario had bid the princess farewell among well wishes. It was his last piece of heaven before being submitted to this seemingly eternal torment he had fallen into.

   Mario sagged in his portrait. Still he had not so much as seen Luigi. Would he ever be here? He had not even seen his little brother at all today. He had left for the castle early in the morning, before Luigi had even woken up... and Mario had left him behind.

   Mario sighed in despair. Had it been wrong to run off? Should he have invited his brother to come along as well? It could never have been the same if he had been there. But if he had been... perhaps many things would have turned out differently.

   Mario touched his chest gingerly, wondering if Luigi had suffered tonight even more than he had. It likely wasn't a physical pain so much as a mental one. Poor Luigi... all by himself... in this house!

   Mario had seen enough of its horrors to know that Luigi would be absolutely terrified. He had always been a little critical of Luigi for being so afraid of everything... usually he would be too timid to try the new roller coaster, or talk about scary movies, or even be the last one in bed. Now Mario felt awful.

   Oh Luigi... I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.

   The sorrow in his heart mirrored the literal ache he felt in his chest; he had tasted the hot sting of King Boo's magic wrath more than a few times now. He was more ruthless than Bowser; more terrible than other boos. If Mario rebelled he didn't go without paying for it.

   Then he'd be left alone again for minutes that felt like ages, to think about what he'd done. Mario didn't have any reason to reflect on his treatment of the boos – he knew where he stood. The boos were reckless, constantly stirring up confusion and trouble among the other creatures of the Mushroom Kingdom and beyond. They had tried to kill him on numerous occasions just for passing by - minding his own urgent business! He had never uttered a hostile word to them that was not justly called for. And besides, friendship with boos was possible; Mario himself could attest to that. He wondered briefly what his booish friend, Lady Bow, would have thought of all this.

Rather, what he thought the most on while he was stuck alone was his treatment of his own brother.

   Time seemed to melt when Mario was alone. It could have been hours, it could have only been ten minutes since King Boo left him last; he didn't know. But he knew that he was more than sick and tired of staring at the empty room before him, sitting tauntingly just beyond reach. What he would have given to just stretch his restless legs a little!

   Mario knew it was doubly hard for him than it would have been for others, and it was just because of that: he couldn't sit still very long. Not that he didn't know how to relax; but Mario had always been more of a physical type. He loved to be out and around, running and jumping and playing sports and seeing things. It was one reason his adventurous duties and lifestyle suited him so well.

   But he wasn't built for being on the other end of the spectrum. Likely King Boo didn't know that, but it still irritated Mario profusely.

   Squirming in annoyance, he tried to rest his head back and sighed. He would never be able to stand being cooped up here forever. It had probably only been a few hours and already he felt like exploding.

   Would Luigi make it? Could he come through?

   Of course he will, Mario thought angrily. Of course he will!

   Coming back to the immediate present, he turned to the stinging pain that ravaged his arm now unrestrained. Cringing at a sudden ooze of warm fluid that soaked through his shirt, he gently cradled his left arm and sighed. King Boo had been right – it was pretty bad. And he hadn't volunteered to do anything about it, either.

   Okay, it was really bad. Thinking now, Mario couldn't recall ever having so awful a wound; he didn't want to look and see exactly how deep it was, and as far as boos went, he didn't actually know much about their bite. Already it had begun to spread throughout his elbow and shoulder, leaving his arm mostly limp, but Mario didn't think it would be of much use right now anyway. What further disadvantage was there to being crippled?

   With a yawn, he rubbed the side of his face which complained at his touch. That was where he'd been hit by a door. It would likely turn into a smarting bruise.

   What time was it by now? He hadn't the slightest clue. If he really was underground as King Boo said, he would never see the light of day. His body told him it was probably past midnight now, but he felt so worn it was impossible to know. Perhaps he had already been here for days.

   The strangest thing about it all was that he wasn't hungry. Well, maybe being turned into a painting caused that to a person, but usually Mario was always up for something. But now he found that his appetite had vanished.

   Well, it was just as well. It would have been a really miserable time if he was starving on top of all else.

   It would have been nice to just go to sleep – get through all this. But although he'd tried, it was impossible. He had too many discomforts, too many nagging thoughts, to relax. Even when King Boo was not there lording over him, he couldn't fall asleep. It only extended his agony.

   He took a deep breath to try to let some steam out. But all it seemed to do was aggravate his burning chest. Wincing, Mario put his forehead to the glass with a groan and tried to make the pain disappear. Suddenly he wondered if Luigi could feel anything of it.

   A few times Luigi had been known to complain when Mario hurt himself. Like once, Mario had been bitten in the hand by a koopa, and later that day Luigi couldn't stop whining that his same hand was hurting. The funniest thing was that Mario himself hadn't even been bothered much by it. He had originally taken it for some sort of mimicry or teasing on Luigi's part, but later he had realized Luigi was serious.

   Mario shook his head and stared at the floor. He knew he had felt something, too.

   He didn't know if it was the last time he'd blacked out, or the previous time – but something extraordinary had happened. Something had been there; he had felt someone.

   No, he had heard someone.

   He closed his eyes and tried to remember the mysterious voice. It came back to him as if through a dream.

   She had appeared gradually, as if trying to reach him from afar; and he had spoken to her. She had asked how he was; he told her something of the situation.

   It did not occur to him that the messenger was evil; rather, she seemed like a concerned spirit, trying to comfort him. There had not been an enormous exchange between the two, but Mario knew there was something powerful behind it.

   Your brother wants you to know that he loves you.

   Had she really said it? Mario knew with all his heart he had not imagined that part. It shone out the clearest.

   It was then that he had come nearest to breaking down.

   When she was gone, and he no longer felt her presence, the darkness came back; it had overtaken him once more and his momentary peace had subsided. But he couldn't forget his mysterious visitor and what she had said to him in his darkest hour.

   That was not to say it was the only time he had experienced something extraordinary. Even before that, he had thought he'd felt something else; something wonderful. It was not a word, exactly, or a sight; but something sensual. A touch, perhaps, a feeling.

   All Mario knew was that once, when he'd been in deep darkness, bordering on the edges of pain, he'd felt him. He'd felt him as clearly as he saw the secret altar before him now.

   The most peaceful sensation of being held by Luigi.

   It was comforting, but at the same time, sad somehow; Mario couldn't reach out to him, couldn't respond. Luigi had been crying.

   His deep musing was disrupted then when he heard a sudden chatter of boos from beyond the wall. Mario snapped his head up and watched as about half a dozen of them entered the room, followed by some ghost of a man wearing a beret. Last of all came King Boo. His entrance caused Mario to involuntarily edge away.

   "Ah, Mario," King Boo greeted delightfully, the way he always did. It really rubbed Mario the wrong way, and that was probably why the king did it. Or perhaps he knew, as Mario did, that the greeting was beginning to terrify him.

   King Boo turned to the strange ghost man he'd brought with him. "Vinny, I'd like to introduce you to my newest acquisition," he declared boastfully. "A fine piece, if I do say so myself; wasn't the easiest to get, but we managed." He stopped and fixed Mario with a consumptive stare. "I'd been wanting this one for a long time."

Mario clenched his teeth but he was still too cautious to risk saying anything. How DARE he -

   "Ah, so I've heard," the man remarked in a voice thick with a French accent.

   "So, what do you think?" King Boo asked proudly. "I've been wanting a second opinion. Not that anything negative will really change my mind."

   "Oh, of course, your Majesty," the ghost replied, starting closer to look at the portrait. "It looks most interesting."

   As King Boo and his friend began to draw nearer, Mario, alarmed, tried to back away and become invisible. His efforts were very limited. Staring with distrustful blue eyes, he looked at them as if they'd come to give him a round of immunizations.

   King Boo chuckled. "He's not the friendliest ever, so don't be surprised if he shies away. We're working on that."

   "No, it is amazing!" the man exclaimed in awe, floating up now to inspect the edges of the frame. "A most marvelous creation; I've never seen anything like it! A few things, perhaps, that were better-looking than this; but still admirable!"

   At this Mario flattened his gaze and punched the glass in aggravation. "Hey! I can hear you, you know!" he growled. "And I'm not an inanimate object!"

"That's right, Your Superness," King Boo said placatingly. "You're an animate object."

Mario fell silent with a stare like daggers.

   His curious observer went on as if he hadn't heard the exchange. "There is just one thing; what do you call this painting?" the ghost inquired.

   "Annoying," King Boo replied with a laugh. "Or devious, in his own little way."

   "My name is Mario," the portrait interrupted gravely, just above seething. "Stop it!" he suddenly snapped, when the nosy man began to get too close for comfort and tried to touch the glass. The prisoner enforced it with a couple of bangs with his fist in retaliation.

   The ghost slightly backed off, clearly a bit amused. "A touch stingy, no? Aye, but you have a piece of work still, this one."

   King Boo was clearly enjoying this. "Oh, come on, let's give him a little room for his tantrum. He gets pretty riled up and I don't want to have to get ugly here."

   The two finally turned and floated back for the door, leaving the furious Mario glaring after them.

   "So, will you do those extra ghosts for me?" King Boo asked his friend.

   "Aye, but it will take a little time. I had better get started working on them right away."

   "Good, get to it," King Boo suggested, and the man dissolved away through the door as if that was goodbye. The prisoner frowned at the exchange but there was no time to puzzle over it. The remaining boos, who had been hanging back watching the whole time, turned now to their leader.

   "Well, shall we get back to work?" he asked them. "That ought to go for us too. I want that man tracked down and caught sometime this year, and time's ticking!"

   "Of course, your Majesty," one of the boos replied. "He was last spotted heading to the third floor."

   "Well, find him!" King Boo said impatiently. "No mercy. But I want him alive!"

Mario had never heard those words in real life before. Watching frozen from the opposite end of the room, he prayed that Luigi would keep his wits closer than ever.

"Why don't we split up?" one boo suggested, as if they were playing a game. "We can take the floors in groups."

"Fine. Gameboo, Boolderdash and Tamboorine can take a group to the top floor," the king commanded. "Boolivia, Boomerang, and Boo B. Hatch can take one to the second. Limbooger, Booregaurd, and Gumboo will deal with the ground floor. Everyone else stay close."

"Hoowee, now you're talking! You guys get the ragin' Cajun," one boo snickered, nudging another.

The boo frowned. "Yeah, right. Why do we have to take Limbooger? He reeks!"

The boo, apparently Limbooger, glared at them. "No one loves me!" he whined. Pausing, he added, "Whew... is that me?"

"Yes," replied two or three others in annoyance.

Then, as if there wasn't enough confusion, two more boos arrived, floating in through the wall. "I return," announced one, taking his place with the group.

"Boomerang, quit missing the meetings," hissed one.

"Coming back at you," he replied, uninterested.

"Hey! Crazy boo walkin'!" The other unannounced boo, a sucker for attention, came to address them all. "Boonatic over here. So, what did we miss?"

He went unanswered. One boo raised a stubby arm. "Aw, do we have to take Tamboorine? She's so noisy!"

Tamboorine turned on him. "Why, I'll jingle YOU! I'll have you know sir, that I was with the band..."

"Poppycock!" another snorted. "Would you two knock it off? We have mortals to be brutally hunting," he snickered.

King Boo, rather fed up by now, let out a low sigh. "Indeed, hurry up! I don't care what you do so long as you do something!"

"Hey, I just had a great idea!" one boo exclaimed, fluttering up in excitement. With a sly grin, he darted over to where the painting hung on the wall. "Why don't we let the prisoner decide who will go where?"

At this even King Boo broke into a small grin of pleasure. "A charming idea, Boonswoggle... but I don't think our guest could handle such a big choice."

The boo, Boonswoggle, grinned delightedly as he drew closer, almost as if intending to puncture the glass with his razor fangs. The human within drew back, staring at the creature defiantly.

"I don't know any of you," he growled, as if that settled it.

Here Boonswoggle smiled even wider, enormous tongue flashing across a sharp set of teeth. "Really you don't? I'm hurt that you don't remember me, human," he chuckled. "It was a brief meeting, sure; but I still remember your cry of agony when my fangs sank into your arm. The way your blood tasted when I penetrated your flesh. Still lingers, you know. For quite a long time."

Mario had never been one to grow queasy; but suddenly he sank backwards, looking very much as if he wanted to throw up. "Ohh you're sick," he murmured, discoloring slightly.

"No, I think you are," the boo snickered before turning away.

King Boo, watching with seeming approval, finally floated forward. "Alright, give him some room. Just spread, will you? Get going, already," and he shooed the crowd towards the wall. The boos began to file out the door, one by one as he gave them parting orders.

   When they were all finally gone, King Boo remained behind, with Mario watching his back. When he turned, his dark eyes blazed across the room at him.

"Who's your friend?" the young man asked casually, looking down at his tender arm as he carefully picked it up by the elbow.

King Boo raised an amused eyebrow. "Only a fellow art critic," he replied with what must have been a shrug. "He specializes in bringing ghosts to life."

Mario, who was pretending to be very interested in inspecting his torn sleeve, didn't respond.

"The thing about him, though, is that he lets his creations go free," the king went on, pacing in a slow circle. "But not like me, though. I, I'm selfish. I love my decorations too much."

At this Mario drew a slow, unsteady breath; but he didn't look up and resumed probing his soaking arm. It really did feel awful...

   "Ah, Your Superness," King Boo addressed him with a nod. "You don't need to look so distressed. We will find your brother and bring him here," he assured him, coming closer.

   "You're the one who's distressed," Mario replied evenly. "You're afraid that you might lose to little old Luigi."

   "We will not lose to that vacuum-wielding wimp!" King Boo insisted. "He weakens by the hour. It is only a matter of time."

   "You say that as if it means something, but it doesn't," Mario retorted. "I know what it really means. Luigi has been all over this place, capturing ghosts and defeating your boos." He fixed the king with a look of triumph. "And soon, he'll come victorious over you and this whole forsaken mansion."

   "Don't be so sure," King Boo growled. "He may have lived this far, but the hardest is yet ahead. Remember, he will have to go through me."

   Mario didn't reply immediately. King Boo floated closer, suddenly smiling in a most unpleasant manner.

   "And he will see the true power of the boos... and he will tremble before its -

   "Be quiet!" the prisoner hissed. "Luigi doesn't come unprepared. It'll be all you can do to -

   His bold statement was abruptly cut off when Mario interrupted himself with a jagged gasp; and leaning heavily upon the glass of his cage, he shivered, suddenly faint. Breath coming laboriously, he appeared to be fighting for his very head.

   "I have told you numerous times who's in charge here," King Boo chided in disappointment, hovering over the pale image. His ruby crown was now aglow, as if a fire had been set ablaze inside of it; and by this spell he held the painting suspended in silence for a moment.

   The defiant human crumpled briefly into his chest; and then he put a hand to the glass for support. Thank goodness, it was beginning to pass.

   The king, apparently satisfied to let it fly, smirked and reached up a stubby arm, polishing the shiny frame.

   "You can't do anything to help him this time," he reminded his prisoner in a whisper. "We will get him. One way, or another."

   Mario, recovering now, tried his hardest to edge away from his harasser. King Boo merely smiled and moved to the other side of the portrait and resumed shining the gold. He seemed to get great pleasure out of it.

   Mario knew he was just doing it to get under his skin. "If you already have me... why can't you just leave him alone?" he asked, clutching his arm where the scarlet liquid began to spill over unrestrained. "He's done nothing to you! Even if I have, he hasn't. Just leave him alone!"

   King Boo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really, Mario? You think that'll work on me? I know that having one of you isn't enough. Without both, the other will constantly be there, trying to foil me." He shook his head. "Luigi must be mine as well."

   "You're going to put him in a painting?" Mario asked warningly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

   "Oh, why not? He's even more of a wimp than you are, isn't he? And besides, after all he's done tonight, I have real reason to punish him. He shall have it even worse than you when I get my hands on him."

   Mario grew quite still. He looked at the king with uncertain eyes. "You will not hurt him."

   King Boo smiled in amusement. "I shall do whatever I like with him once he's mine," he said. "Just like you."

   The look in Mario's eyes was the closest yet to true fear. He let out a slow breath laced with pain, staring at the floor. Finally he couldn't take it anymore.

   "Cut that out!" Mario snapped, hitting the glass. King Boo chuckled and continued to get one last 'dirty' corner of the frame, then backed away. Studying it thoughtfully, he then proceeded to adjust it so it was straight.

   Mario scooted again to the other side, trying to be any sort of distance away, but it was practically impossible. With a moan, he rubbed his drenched forehead. He was about to explode -

   Luckily, he was saved at that moment by a loud crash overhead, and then a small buzzing sound. Surprised, the two looked up.

   Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered – and then the chandeliers overhead went out. The secret altar grew dim, but they could still see; the small fires in the braziers still glowed by the pillars.

   King Boo backed away from his 'pet' and glanced around. "Hm," he said aloud. "I don't suppose that had anything to do with your pesky brother. Even he couldn't be dumb enough to cut the power."

   Mario let out a breath and ignored his comment. "The power's out?"

   "It appears the mansion must have been hit," the king confirmed. Then he grinned. "Never bothered us ghosts. But it might be a problem for your brother there."

   Mario hardened his stare but didn't say anything.

   "Well... a fortunate turn of events. This week has just been full of them, I must say. Anyway, the house will be in quite an uproar, so now would be a good time to track him down. Wouldn't want the other ghosts to get ahold of him, would we?"

   King Boo floated upwards, towards the ceiling. He paused for a moment before glancing back down at his portrait. "Well, I must be going out for a bit. I'll be back later. Behave while I'm gone."

   Mario wished it was possible to do anything but.

~

   The secret altar remained dark for a considerable amount of time. With the loss of power there also seemed to be increased ghost activity; not that any ever entered the secluded room, but their chatter could be heard through the ceiling. For a long time Mario remained alone in the darkened room, listening to their thumping above and sighing to himself with worry.

   He remembered that this was not the first time he'd heard noises from upstairs. It must have been quite a while ago now; but shortly after that first time he'd awoken, he could have sworn he heard the sound of music beyond the walls. There were distinct drum beats, and other instruments too; he hadn't been able to hear well enough to distinguish it very well, but it had seemed lively – the strangest thing. Perhaps he'd been imagining it.

   Mario let his head sag forward in frustration. He didn't know what was real anymore. He couldn't distinguish memory from dream – or hallucination. It was all running together – because he was doing absolutely nothing.

   There was no way to know how long he'd been here, no way to know where exactly he even was, or even what had happened to him. He had been caught in this strange reality but he couldn't understand it.

   Would he ever be able to get back to normal? Even if he was rescued, and everything happened as he hoped... how could he escape this seemingly foolproof prison?

   Mario growled to himself and tried to lean back. What had they done?

He found it still a bit difficult, even now, to believe he'd been trapped within a painting as they all claimed. Or was it... turned into a painting? Even if the painting was enchanted, how could that be? He knew paintings; and never had he seen one which held people hostage. He believed that they were portals, to be sure; a single painting could hold worlds of adventure and he stood by that with all his heart.

For a brief moment a grin flickered across his face. Oh, he knew it.

   But this... this was a nightmare. Perhaps the worst part about it all was being treated like a plaything. Mario sincerely wished they would just leave him alone. But the boos seemed to view him as some cross between a prisoner and a pet, and Mario really hated it.

   And of course, whenever the 'owners' went out, they left him behind... by himself again for minutes on end. It was so boring. Enough so to make a man want to scream.

   For pastime Mario did sometimes scream; he didn't wear himself out usually, but he figured it couldn't hurt to try calling for help. King Boo always found it especially amusing when he heard him and reminded tauntingly that they were underground; no one would hear him.

   That didn't keep Mario from trying. Sometimes he really couldn't help it; when the pain was worst he sometimes couldn't keep from crying out. Several times he'd found himself yelling for Luigi. No one had ever responded.

   When his anger had nearly reached its boiling point, Mario would try escaping. All he had on him were his fists, and usually they were pretty handy in tough situations. But this time around, no matter how hard he tried, the glass wouldn't break. Could he really be that weak?

   The last pastime he had when all alone down here was thought. It was not usually peaceful, happy thought; but a sadder and more lamentable kind. The kind of dark reflection one did in depression.

   He remembered all the times he had gone off alone, leaving Luigi at home. Usually he was in a rush; excited, ready to be off on another adventure, or worried, trying to stop Bowser from his latest scheme. Sometimes Luigi quietly stayed behind; other times he begged to come along. Mario often refused. Luigi would have only slowed him down... or gotten hurt. Mario didn't want that to happen, of course – but was that really it? He hadn't meant to just reject him out of selfishness... had he?

   "Oh, Luigi," Mario whispered to the darkness. Whichever way he looked at it, his argument was pretty lame: either he had been indifferent to his brother, or he had been so busy he couldn't even notice him. It literally took forcing him to submission in a painting to make him slow down and realize it.

   Yet after that... after all of that rejection... Luigi was here looking for him. Facing what must have been his worst fears, just to find Mario! Did he even deserve it?

   Still, Mario sincerely hoped he could get out of this. He had to see Luigi again – had to make it right somehow. Even if it was only in just a few words.

   One thing he knew for sure: Luigi didn't deserve to be doing this. Why, if the other ghosts managed to catch him before King Boo did, he could even...

   Mario cut himself off and shook his head. No, he couldn't think that. It wouldn't happen that way. It just couldn't.

   It was always easier when Luigi was just at home – safe, out of the way, and no one worried about him. But Mario never worried about himself when he went out alone; why couldn't he have a little more confidence that Luigi would be alright?

   It wasn't so much that he doubted him. Mario believed Luigi could do great things; he was his brother, after all. Of course he could!

   But had Mario been holding him back?

   Mario leaned forward again in misery as an old white-hot pain seemed to ignite in his chest. It burned like any of the thoughts plaguing him: painful, persistent, never quite going away. Mario had never liked to share the spotlight and he knew it.

   But now... now he was out of it. It was beyond his control, and for the first time ever he could do nothing but sit by and wait as Luigi took charge. Luigi would come through for him... he had to.

   Please, he thought, resting an exhausted hand on the glass. Please, someone let me out of this torment.

   The words of the mysterious woman suddenly came back to his thoughts, as if she'd once again instilled them there.

   Your brother wants you to know...

   Mario sat up with surprise. Luigi had said that? In the midst of all this... he had been thinking of that?

   Did he think they would never see each other again? Was it all a trick? Mario wished he could have seen her, known more of this mysterious visitor who had brought him such a strange message, but he couldn't.

   If it was true... Mario closed his eyes in sorrow. Luigi still only looked at him with those admiring eyes full of praise, even in this darkest hour. Even after all Mario had done.

   Mario couldn't be sure of it. But if Luigi was out there fighting for his life, having his own adventure at long last, Mario was supporting him a hundred percent of the way. He only lamented that it had happened under these circumstances... and he couldn't be there with him.

   Please, he silently prayed. Please, just let Luigi be safe. Let him make it here alright... and let him be brave.

   Mario took a nervous breath and raised his eyes to the ceiling where King Boo had disappeared. Luigi was up there, somewhere high above him, in the darkness among the ghosts. Mario shuddered at the thought.

   Please, may he get here soon. And please... don't hurt him.

   Mario leaned back and suddenly felt resigned to sit and wait. If Luigi was facing his challenges... Mario could too.

   "Non mollare, fratello," he whispered to the darkness. "I'm here... I'm waiting for you. So che si puo fare questo."

   Mario closed his eyes, becoming lost in it all. Only Luigi would understand... that, at least, was one thing he knew they shared. He didn't know why he said the last part. He added it on only because he had a strange feeling... he knew he should.

   "Basta svegliarsi... sveglia... wake up..."