On one relatively good day, I found myself outside playing near the river as any kid does. It was fun. I caught a big fish, cooked it, ate a bit of it, and didn't finish it because coming home to supper with a fat belly would open the gates of hell itself. So, after my day of fun, I went home, found my mother crying, my father choked me on the living room table, and then he sold me to some hooded strangers with plans not yet known to me. However, I would find out soon.

I was gagged, blindfolded, and tied up in the back of a wagon. I still remember the clomping of horse hooves, the taste of dusty cloth, and the laughter of the men who took me. The ride was long and bumpy, and it felt like an eternity to a child, at least until the carriage stopped. 

The men who were laughing throughout the ride were now speaking to someone outside. As soon as the curtain rose, I was dragged out and thrown in the mud. He ripped my shirt off, inspecting me. I was pulled into a building by my feet. I struggled until a boot crashed into my stomach. I tried to scream, but my voice was gone. I was thrown over his shoulder; his footsteps echoed, and the air grew colder. 

Some doors creaked open when my back slammed against the wet tile floor. They untied my blindfold, taking the gag from my mouth. When the door closed there was nothing. Just a rat in the corner of the room, taunting me. The mold of the room choked my breath, I couldn't cry, or scream. I sat there, shivering wet, by myself, alone. Three days passed by me in the cellar, and the only light I had came from a hole high up on the wall. It told me when the next day came when the night was soon to fall. The room was never warm, and I spent most of my time sticking my hands or feet into the small spot of sun that peeked through the wall. 

On the fourth night the door swung open, and a man, with hair like snow, was staring me down. I don't remember what was going through my head at that moment, but just seeing anyone felt amazing. He was the second light, my savior.

I jerked back at his first steps, I didn't know what he would do, But he knelt down, and hugged me. And lifted me up in both arms, taking me far away. On the way out, I saw other doors similar to mine, and cages hanging along the ceiling through the corridor. They housed kids just like me, some younger, some older. They reached out for me, pleading in scared, and terrified voices. Most couldn't make out a word, and the ones who could speak could only cry.

He set me in a fine carriage beyond my prison. Put a warm lantern next to me, and covered me in a fuzzy blanket. 

The thought of my home was all but gone in my fear, consumed by confusion, and uncertainty. 

The man sat in front of me on the other side of the carriage. He stared through the window, taking brief moments to look back at me with a smile.

It hadn't made sense to me then, but it was better than wet tile, and biting rodents. The carriage stopped by a large ornate gate. Engraved in it was a snake with a lion's head, and six other figures holding it up to the heavens. It was beautiful.

The man escorted me from the steps as the gates opened, behind it was a massive manor. At least five stories high. Two large men greeted me from the other side, dressed in black robes. One with a sweet-scented bowl of porridge, the other with a hot cup of tea, and they sat me down in the grass. I ate slowly throughout the night, and as I waited, more carriages arrived at the gates, and with them, came other children.

By the time a few hours had passed, we were an army of children sitting in rows, upon rows next to each other. There were more boys than girls, and we were separated into files. Soon enough, the gates would close in on us, and we were ordered to stand. None of us stood out especially, except for two boys to my right, both with snow-white hair like the man that had received me from my cellar. Then, the same man stepped forward and addressed us.

“Good evening children.”

We stood silent in unison, not sure how to respond. Except for three other kids, the two boys to my right, who responded with “Hello father.”, and a girl, far in the back who managed to utter a hello through shaking hands.

He looked to them with an agreeable nod and continued.

“You have all been through quite an ordeal in getting here, for this I thank you. I Want to stress that you are no longer in any danger from this point on, and as I continue to tell you why you are here, your response is not required. If you feel so inclined to respond, respond with a nod. Do you understand?”

His eyes scanned us, and some of us nodded in reply. 

He continued, “You are all here under different circumstances, some with families, and some of you with nothing. I would stress that from this night onward, you are alone, and you will not under any circumstances speak of the past, do you understand?”

I paused for a moment and nodded along with the other children.

“Good, if this is understood, I will begin to tell you the rules of this academy. These rules are not to be broken, so be warned. Anyone who breaks these rules will be punished, and there is only one punishment at this academy. Do you understand?”

This time fear began to rise through the ranks, some kids jittered profusely, others began to cry, and I, with a select few others stayed silent and nodded.

He took a long deep breath, then began to list the rules to us, “Rule number one: You are not to speak to any adults within the premises, upon breaking this rule you will be punished.”

“Rule number 2: Under no circumstances are you to step foot from the premises, any who do, and anyone who witnesses the breaking of this rule will be punished.”

“Rule number 3: You will be given directives through intercoms at ten p.m. of each day, these directives can be heard through every room throughout the building, if you fail to follow the directives, you will be punished.”

“And lastly, the final rule,” He gave pause, closing his hands together, “Protect one another because from this night forward you will only have each other. Those who follow this rule will be rewarded, and those who break this rule will not be punished.”

A Lot of us were taken aback by this final rule, and we would only come to understand its importance through time.

Once the rules were established, a group of men who were standing by a firepit towards the gate, began pulling metal rods from the blazing coals.

“You will now receive your numbers, and from this point forward, you will be addressed by your corresponding number. You will then be set in your groups by number, from this point on, you, and whoever has the same number will be considered as a single person. You are no longer individuals, do you understand?”

There was no more nodding from the crowd, any and all thought was focused on what they were going to do with those burning rods.

“If you have sleeves, please roll them up, and place your hands out facing upwards. If you are unable to do so, we will help you.”

The men approached my line, as we were the first upfront. The two boys to my right had already held out their arms, while I was still processing what was happening. Aggressive gasps escaped their mouths as the sound of sizzling, and the scent of cooked meat rushed towards me. My knees buckled as the men walked toward me. I had no sleeves to roll, only a blanket tied around my neck. 

He stared deep into my eyes, “Your arm boy.”

I couldn't bring myself to give it up and looked at the boys next to me. They weren't crying, but they gritted their teeth. Staring at the burn mark on each arm, they had eyes like a demon. There was nothing but resolve in them.

“Do you need help boy!” the man spat out.

I almost uttered a “no”, but quickly remembered the first rule, and quickly lifted my arm up to him. My suffering was not instant, but over a few seconds, it caught up to me, slowly. Hellfire wormed its way through my hand, up my arm, and out my throat. My knees hit the floor faster than gravity, My heart thumped into a rage, and I screamed louder than I ever had in my life. I couldn't move as the pain consumed me, tears just bubbled up soaking my face.

There was no hint of emotion from the man before me, no remorse, “Get up he said,” lifting me by the knot around my neck, “Get up now!”

But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

He looked to the white-haired boys beside me, and they immediately lifted me up by my arms, Supporting my dead legs.

Gasps like wildfire arose from our ranks, and no sooner than the man with the iron took his next step, some kid to my left thought it wise to sprint for the gate. He was tackled instantly without a sound, and we watched as they strangled him. His feet kicked through the air, his little hands pulling at the man's robes. Nothing the kid tried worked, and neither did his desperate cry for help reach a helping ear. We watched as his body fell limp, and the man twisted his head to meet his heels.

From that point forward, not one of us thought to run, and by the end of the process, most kids passed out from the fear or the pain. A select few of us were left standing, as the men dragged them inside the building, laying them one by one next to each other.

We were ushered into the building, where the furniture in the main hall was a dim coffee color, and in the center of the room was a forked staircase which split itself into even more sets of stairs as it grew to reach the other floors. It was as grand as its stature, with railings adorned in gold, each tile polished to perfection.

Those of us left standing were escorted throughout the building, first to the kitchen. Which was a fairly large room with no seating or dishware, just a drainage vent on the floor in the center of the room. Next were the restrooms, which were positioned at the same spot on every floor, with shower heads aligned in a row opposite to the toiletry. It was made very clear that we were to clean them every day without fail, and we did for the most part. After this, we were given the final tour of the premises. The boundary was set at the front gate we had all entered from, the garden on the right side of the building, and the forested area behind the manor. The boundary behind the manor was set at one mile north of the manor, and one mile width of the manor. 

They ended the tour without a single extra word, and soon enough we were left alone. The doors slammed closed, then that was it. 

The first day was a bad period of adjustment for everyone. It took one day to isolate us, and in one day the fear took its root.

Some kids woke up with lots of questions, the others woke up screaming. Groups quickly began to form as some of them recognized each other. There was some comfort in seeing it, but something was also curious about it, and I was not the only one to think it.

I explored the dorms for the designated number ones. We apparently hadn't been assigned rooms, but all numbers must sleep on their corresponding floors, no exceptions. I made my way down the floor, peeping my head through each door, most were empty, and I was about to choose one of the rooms at the end of the hall when some kid, hulking as can be, shoved me into the railing, proclaiming, “Thats my room!”

My first instinct was to fight him, and oh boy did I want to, but all things considered, I was three days starved, and he was at least twice my size, so I settled for letting him go. 

After that encounter I made my way to the next door and knocked on it a couple of times, there was some shuffling, a shreak, some laughing, and then a girl cracked the door open.

She was a cute little bubbly thing, spotted freckles,1 deep blue eyes, and raven black hair. She looked nervous, but at the time i guess we all were.

She asked me what I wanted, I said a floor with four walls to sleep on, and I guess it was enough to make her laugh so she let me in.

I think that was the first time in a few days I had felt some inkling of happiness. The thought of a bed to me was, impossible. I had all but forgotten they existed. Not to mention she was nice too, which was something of a rare commodity at the time.

When I entered I saw that the room dimensions were fairly big. It was colored the same blinding white as the first floor, and it was furnished with four large loft beds located in each corner of the room. Wooden closets were attached to each bed. Besides that, the only other furniture available was a small table in smackdab in the center of the room.

I was surprised to see the two white-haired boys sitting across the room from me. They had introduced themselves, the shorter one had a bowl cut and sea-blue eyes, his name was Tula. His counterpart was an inch or two taller with much longer hair tied into a ponytail, his name was Hector. Then the girl who had opened the door for me said her name was Wembly, and because there wasn't much to do we just talked in the room for the rest of the night. I found the three of them to be really nice. 

Tula was an idiot with a lot of energy. He kept throwing his shoes in the air, trying to catch them on his toes, and when he eventually caught one he sniffed it while jerking back at his own stink. I'm forced to say there wasn't much to pay attention to with him.

Wembly didn't speak much, but she was a great listener. Her nose would wiggle when we said something exciting. But when the conversation veered towards our circumstances, she would tuck her knees into her chest, and we would know to change the subject.

Hector, however, was an anomaly. He could talk a lot, and in great amounts about the most heroic things, and then quickly change the tone by announcing he would “Rule the eons”, whatever that meant. He was definitely dictator material, but he did say that his “subjects”, would have free will, so I guess that was redeemable.

I could keep up in conversation, but I didn't have much to offer. All I had were dreams I could no longer accomplish, and a life I could no longer speak of. 

It was a nice reprieve from the stress because I had all but forgotten where I was until the intercoms snapped on.

The four of us watched as the center of the table slid open revealing a small elevator. The platform was raised up with a group of small glass bottles, each one no larger than the palm of a hand. There were five bottles, but only four of us.

Wembly and I stood stiff as Hector inspected the bottles, and as Tula hovered over his shoulders, I couldn't help but wonder how they were so calm in the face of our circumstances.

Then I remembered how they called the white-haired man father, and my suspicion ran even deeper. 

Hector noticed my hesitancy immediately, asking if I was alright. I asked if he was alright himself because we had all but been kidnapped and now we were being forced to drink some unknown liquid or die. It was crazy.

“Adam,” he said, “if we don't graduate, my father is going to be really, really angry, And I don't intend to have that happen. So if we want to get through this, we should do it together.”

“We.”, I responded.

He apparently hadn't liked my response very much. 

I know because he chugged his bottle, sat down, and refused to break eye contact with me. 

He had challenged me, and I was no fan of being a loser, but this was different from normal peer pressure.

Tula unscrewed his bottle, lifting it as high as he could into the air, and let it waterfall down into his mouth. 

To them, this must've been funny, but to me, I was ready to crawl out of my skin screaming.

Wembly was sniffling next to me, and I was ready to do the same if it wasn't for Hector's smug expression. 

His look alone judged me like I was a problem.

Like It was I who brought us to this point.

“You're making her cry,” Tula gauded, “be a man.”

I clenched my fist ready to hit him, as well as the next person who even dared to inhale.

But then Hector gave me a smile.

like that was what he wanted.

Like he was expecting it.

 He wanted me to lash out. To lose my temper, and show just how incapable I was under pressure.

Wembly was shaking, and Tula was bursting at the seams with laughter.

It was defeating to be sure, but I just couldn't take the insult to my character, after all, I wanted to be a hero. 

My fist flew over the table, snatched the bottle, and I chugged it in a second.

I was no coward but it tasted awful and I gagged. It was like wet bread and rotten fish covered in spices.

Looking back, at least they tried to make it palatable.

“Nice!”, Tula said, “You've got one more to go.”

I thought he was trying to push me as far as he could, and he would have succeeded had Hector not pointed at a second bottle with my initials on it.

I glanced slowly down in horror.

Not only were they being serious, but this bottle was three times the size of the previous one. It was more than just a few gulps, and I was ready to make my escape.

But then Wembley took me by the hand, reassuring me with her own bottle in hand.

It was a nice gesture, but she didn't need to drink two, she wasn't being brave like I was.

I gave in though, she had a stare like a puppy back then. It could make anyone give in.

I did eventually finish mine, and so did she.

We both gagged for a while, trying to rid ourselves of the tase to no avail.

We then set the bottles back onto the table and the little elevator sunk down with them. 

Our sleeping arrangements were already set because there wasn't much to settle in with. We each had two blankets, a sheet, and a pillow. Tula slept beneath his bed, strange enough. Wembley passed out on hers not long after him, but Hector stayed up with me.

He had waited to speak with me after they were long gone in dreamland.

He was surprisingly mature for a child back then, and I did what I could to pretend to be his equal. But he was different, he felt like a genius and acted like one too.

We spoke about the whole day leading up to the moment, but two things stood out to him. 

One, It was his father who had brought me here, which he said was strange by itself. 

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And two, I had two of those bottles when the rest had one. He wondered what made mine different. We were equally confused and agreed to figure it out. 

But to do that, we needed to work together. 

So he made me swear my allegiance to him so that we could make him king of the world.

I refused him immediately, telling him, “I'm not your slave.”

He responded by kicking me in the shin. He then laughed at me and went to sleep.

I took to my bed likewise and shut my eyes.

I woke up in cold sweats, gasping for air. Alarms were going off, and loud blasts rang throughout the room. 

I couldn't move my body an inch, but my eyes could move slightly. I scanned as far left to the center of the room as I could, but no one was there.

I began to panic. I wanted to cry, to scream, but no sound came out. Except for gargling, strange bubbly gargling. My legs wouldn't move but my toes could wiggle. 

That's when Tula and Hector came rushing into the room. They had blood all over their pajamas, and they were barefoot screaming at me.

They shook me violently but all I could do was move my eyes from side to side. They shook me but I couldn't do anything, I saw them start to say something to me and thats when my hearing vanished. My stomach began to feel like fire, and then the pain vanished, and then it appeared again.

I tried to speak, to cry, to scream to them.

But nothing.

Then my vision was gone in a second, pure nothingness.

I was lost in darkness for what felt like an eternity, and then, suddenly.

A sharp pain ran through my neck, and I could see again.

I was face down in the dirt. The grass was in my nose,  and I was choking. In fear, I tried to push myself upwards. Then I vomited.

Blood poured from my mouth like a fountain of red dye. 

It stained the boots standing before me, and I could hear the silence.

So quiet.

The sounds rushed through me like a flood. Things you could only hear if you were an inch away from them. I heard a river and the air bubbles of fish. I heard the blood dribble down his boots, and the blades of grass sway. 

Heart beats, and breathing.

“Boy… stand up.”

He was so far from me, tall like the bud of a flower. It was like he had been screaming in my ear.

“I-I ca-cant,” I whispered.

He gave a low sigh in response, but to me, it was thundering of lightning, a belt of wind through mountains.

“Is this it boy?” he said, turning my head to the side with the heel of his boot, “is this where your effort ends? Will you lose now?”

I don't want to lose.

“Should I help you?” he said, his heel pressing deeper into my cheek.

No.

“Will you die the other one?” He repeated, “Hmm?”

Get off me.

“Then die,” he said.

My face sunk into the mud below me, almost submerging into the ground. And then, something took over me.

“I said get off of me!”

I reached up to the power that subjected me. The weight of his body was no longer present to me. I gripped the leather, squeezing it. I lifted up, and up with all my strength. 

I was on my feet faster than I could process the feeling, the power. 

I rushed forward, slamming into my oppressor. I jumped on his chest and began hitting his face. 

He made an attempt to seize me by my neck, but I took him by his arm and squeezed it hard. He let out a scream, and I bashed my forehead against his face. Again, and again. 

I couldn't stop, I wouldn't stop. Not again. Never again.

I took him by the throat with both hands and pressed down as hard as I could. His other arm tried to push me back by my chin, but it had no strength in it. It felt like no one could stop me.

I wanted revenge.

I wanted to kill him.

His face was bloodied, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as I squeezed.

Then I was tackled to the ground from behind. Something was stuck in my neck, and then I woke up in the same spot tied to a chair. I opened my eyes to see a group of grown men in cloaks, holding swords. The snow-haired man was in the middle of them, staring at me.

I was confused until I looked down to see a dead man lying in the grass, his arm was ripped off by the elbow, and his face was caved in completely.

“Oh, he’s awake sir.”

“Is he now?” the white-haired man replied.

He stepped over the body, leaning in, giving me a smile.

“Good job young man,” he said.

I didn't know how to respond, but regardless I wasn't supposed to respond.

“Now that you’re up take a look around the courtyard for me.”

I did, and what I saw was awful. There were dead children everywhere, strewn across the ground. Where there was an army of us was now little less than a handful. 

He leaned in closer to me, breathing on me.

“We have one survivor of the new serum, Connoly!” he shouted.

One of the cloaked men came stumbling over some kids, a clipboard in hand, “Yes sir.”

“Record his response for me… and don't step on the kids, please. That's rude.”

He readied his pen, “Uh, sorry, sir, won't happen again.”

Again I thought, is this to be a recurring thing?

The man leaned back, giving me some space, “You have permission to speak, so please, answer my questions.”

I sat quietly in the chair, not knowing how to respond.

He tilted his head, “Yes? No?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Ah, good. He can speak.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“Good! How do you feel.”

I thought about how I felt, but I hadn't felt anything really. There was an unsure calmness to my body.

“Okay, I guess.”

Connolly’s pen went tapping away.

He flicked my forehead with a finger, “any pain?”

“Uh, no, sir.”

“Hmm,” he grumbled, “no stress at all? Anxiety?”

I scrunched my brow, “What’s… anxiety?”

He pinched my cheeks, moving them around in circles, “It's when you feel all scared and fuzzy. You know, fear?”

I ripped my face from his grasp and hit one of the kids behind me, it caught her dead in the chest. She gave a hard gasp, and then she hit the floor; it must have winded her.

Connolly began tapping faster, “Incredible.” He whispered.

I wasn't really angry at first, more confused, but his questions sure egged me on. Now I hit someone because of it.

Between him, Hector, and Tula, it wasn't hard to see the resemblance.

This man was irritating me to my core. Not because the questions were trouble, but because of the way he asked them. As if my troubles were something to be trivialized. Like I was a test subject.

Though I suppose I was.

“One last question, young man,” he said, pulling his tie down to his golden buckled belt. 

I could hear the fabric grinding against the collar of his shirt and the tightening of the knot.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you like toast? Or do you like Bagels?”

…Huh?

                                                                                                                           *****

We found ourselves sitting at a ridiculously long breakfast table, though many of the seats were vacant. They had apparently expected more survivors from us but managed to kill the majority of our numbers in a single night. 

After the questions, the rest of us washed up as they carried the dead into small coffins. They ushered in a large number of metal trays, chairs, and dishes. Escorted us into the meal hall, which previously was an empty room, but now was a dining hall fit for a king. Tula and Hector sat by their father at the end of the table. Wembley and I took a seat a few chairs further down.

The man, Connolly. Stood behind me for the entirety of breakfast, and I would make sure to “readjust” my seating so as to get one of the chair legs to clamp down on his toes whenever he began to breathe down my neck. He would groan, and the white-haired man would laugh.

His smile was strangely soothing.

Over the course of the meal, he explained to us further. 

We found out that we were sold by our parents to the “Academy” for generous compensation.

As if we weren't discouraged enough, He also told us that our survival was not assured but that we were no longer in danger of the adults accompanying him. He said after the first night, the rule to not speak with adults was lifted and that cooperation was vital to our success and development. Because we were the chosen, the gifted.

We questioned what he meant, but he would only respond with a smile. He did, however, tell us that we were given mood suppressants so that we wouldn't be compelled to harm ourselves on the first night. He was surprisingly open to us, and whether we wanted to or not, we were open to hearing his explanations.

After breakfast, we were led beyond the back exit of the manor towards the open field. We journeyed past the field, through a small forest, and up to a large cliffside at the clearing. There was a massive cave entrance, and they took us further into the mountain.

We passed massive caverns and underground streams of water. There were glowing fish, like the ones in the canals we had back home. Worms the size of your arm hanging from the ceiling. The temperature went from cold to hot, from hot to warm. We passed a stone bridge with statues of ten-foot serpents at each end. It led us over the glowing underground river and into a giant square-shaped room carved in stone. 

There was no exit, only the entrance, and it was guarded by a golden gate, like the one in front of the manor.

They closed the gate behind us.

Then an elevator door opened at the center of the room. The noise spooked us, and most of us backed up against the walls. We heard gurgling and growling as the elevator lifted. It became louder and louder until it reached the surface. 

It was gargantuan in stature and width. Its head had a face like a man but twisted like wet cloth wrung dry. Its jaw hung inches from its mouth, with long tusks dangling to the floor. It was hunched over like a dog, but its elbows curled outward like the bow of a tree. It had black fur that was ripped open at its spine, its rib cage exposed from its stomach. It was a monster.

I was frozen solid at the foot of the gate, and Wembley squeezed the life from my hand. The kids closest to the center screamed like animals and began to run immediately. It cried a gargling scream and lunged for a boy with his back turned. Its tongue shot out like a spear impaling him through the stomach. It bit through him, severing him in two.

They continued running toward us, and I didn't know what to do. I just, watched, as it hunted them. One by one, they ran in circles. The beast lashed around, blood splattered against the walls, and kids cried on the floor. The others crowded in the corners. It pinned them there, herding them. 

Soon enough, there were maybe fifteen of us left, still frozen solid. Except for one.

One of the kids managed to climb below its belly and ran for us. He came stumbling towards the door. His arm was gashed, ripped open, bone exposed. Then it turned for him.

It squealed like an arrow through the air, tumbling at him as he gasped for breath, screaming for help. 

That's when she let go of my hand.

Wembley bolted towards the creature. Its tongue coiled like a spring, then shot forward. It nearly stabbed him through the throat, but then. In a stroke of magic, Wembley became a furious hurricane. She shot a scream back at the beast, moving faster than I could breathe in. Her hand gripped its tongue in midair, and she slammed her body against its own. 

The beast reeled back, and Wembley fumbled to the ground. It reared up on its hind legs, claws slashing, teeth gnashing, and then, right before it struck her. A flash of gold whipped past my eye, and a knife planted itself deep into the beast's neck. I turned to see what it was, and Tula's arm was stretched out, sweat dripping from his face.

Hector went tunneling towards the beast. It swung its claw forward. He ducked below the razors, sliding through the sand. He took hold of the knife and ripped a mighty gash along its body. 

It fell onto its side, curling and scratching through the air. Hector stood next to it, and with the knife in his hand, he gave out a bellowing war cry towards the beast. This emboldened the kids left next to me as they too rushed forward. 

The bully kid at the end of the hall was with them. He was twice any of our size, and with his weight, He tackled one of its arms to the floor and bit down on its skin. The others followed suit. Even an army of kids struggling to hold down the hell creature wasn't enough.

It threw them across the room like rag dolls. 

Then it singled me out.

I was alone, the only one left by the door. It gave me a stare of death, then charged.

I felt fear, a real fear. The kind that makes you pull the covers over your head at night. The one that you run from when the last light goes out. I couldn't stop it. It enveloped me.

It got closer, and closer. My body ran cold, and my feet were barely holding me up. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. If I closed my eyes, it would go away. 

Then I felt a pain in my stomach. 

It wormed its way into me as my back crashed against the gate. I couldn't breathe, and my feet couldn't feel the floor. My eyes opened to see it biting down on me. My blood leaked from everywhere.

I looked up to see them screaming at me. The knife fell from Hector's hand, Wembley was on her knees crying, and Tula fell backward in horror. The others took slow steps away, they clawed at the walls. 

The coldness of my body stopped, and the gates behind me rattled as it rammed me up against it again. It bit down harder, and its tongue grew wilder.

And, it made me angry. 

So angry. 

Why?

I tried to hit it, but it did nothing. I heard them scream, but it didn't stop it. I heard it growl, and it hurt more.

Then it stopped. It all stopped. Time.

                                                                                                                   *****

My eyes flashed, and I saw white walls. I saw men with rubber gloves and goggles. White vests, stained red. They lifted me up and set me down. They stabbed me with scalpels and syringes. I felt all of it, every pricking pain and slice of the skin. My back ached from the coldness of the platform. They stuck me with needles, and the pain grew worse. There was a man I had not seen before. Praying in the corner. They held my head and whispered kind words to me.

“It's okay.”

“do you feel any pain?”

“He’s losing blood.”

“Of course he is.”

“Then stop it.”

“How?”

The pain stopped, and everything began to move so fast. The room spun around on its circuits.

“He’s seizing.”

“Hold his head.”

“I am!”

It all went dark. My vision, my body… and then a cosmos. 

Bright stars etched into nothingness. Nothing exploded and became an eruption of colors. Of all different shapes and values. The colors had value. I saw a hole within a ring of fire, all-consuming. It devoured the lights and brought darkness. The darkness was comforting, and it spoke to me.

“Come.” It said, “Come to me.”

Black bubbling water erupted. Its curves shaped the abyss; swirling around its force, it consumed me. It brought me low. Dragged into the abyss, below the nothing. 

Jagged scales took hold of me, and raw skin, like wet leather, suffocated me. 

It boasted to me, “You are mine and must bring back what they took from me.”

It squealed, “They will not have you, I have created you, and you are mine.’

“I do not want you.” I replied.

It waled at me, “Return it to me! Collect it, and return it!”

Then a hand of pure light reached from the darkness and ripped the serpent from me. It pulled me in every direction as my captor screamed in agony. I heard a song, like a thousand worlds in harmony. All in the same voice, playing different notes.  They guided me backward toward creation, and I saw the world.

It was like a marble pressed into black sand. The light from the sun crept over the edges, lighting up the blue waters that held close to the land. The stars danced around the glass of the world. 

I saw the first man, as he rose from the sands of the ground.

I saw seven horrid creatures standing around him. Like massive redwoods, they towered over him. I saw the lion-headed serpent blow breath unto him, but the man did not rise up. In anger, he lashed out with his tail, beating about on the ground, creating the first mountains and the tsunamis. He struck the earth a second time, and it kicked up dust and brought forth the tornadoes and the sandstorms. A third time he beat the ground, and he split the mountains. Great fire spilled from the throat of the world and melted the land.

He cried at the heavens and brought forth rainstorms. He yelled at the stars and brought down lighting that cut the oceans.

And then the man rose up.

I saw his face as he looked upon his creators, and he spit on the ground and cursed them. The man glowed with a light like no other, and they feared him. So the serpent struck him, and he slept. They chewed at the light, gnawing and gnashing until they had consumed the last of it.

I cried for him, and the serpent heard me. He came for me. His belly crept from the earth as he curled around the clouds. His lion-like teeth surrounded me, and before they could clamp down, I awoke. 

***

“He’s awake!?”

I looked around the room to see the mangled bodies of surgeons. The once-white wall was now painted a burning crimson. The white-haired man held me in his arms on the stained tile by the door. Connolly had dropped his pen on the ground with his jaw hanging loose. 

“Can you stand, young man?” The white-haired man asked me.

“I think so.”

He lifted me up, wrapping his coat around my naked body. The leather was cold, but his feelings were warm, and it was all the same to me. He put a gentle hand on my back and led me out of the room. We walked through a series of underground tunnels before we stopped at a slanted elevator, leading to higher ground. The elevator zoomed upwards as the lights on the wall flashed around me. He began to hum a song, that reminded me of the singing in my dream.

I looked up at him, and he smiled.

“It's the song of the worlds.” He said, and he gave me a look like he knew what I had heard.

It was strange, calming, but all the more terrifying. Because if he knew the song. Then what I saw wasn't just a dream.

We met the end of the elevator, and it stopped with a loud clink of chains. He pulled a long black cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around my eyes, saying, “Forgive me. I know you've had enough of the darkness for one day, but bear with it for a little longer.”

We walked a bit further and stepped into a wagon. It bumped over rocks and twisted around corners. I heard birds of many different types from the window and the sound of the wind through the trees. The rushing of rivers.

The carriage stopped, and I heard the gates open. We stepped from the wagon, and he released the blind fold with a smile. He raised an open hand and we made our way through the manor. His hand was so warm.

Reaching the door to my room, he stopped me before I could pull the handle. I turned to him and he was crying.

He dropped a knee to meet me, and hugged me.

“If you've heard the song, then you know the truth.” he whispered.

I looked into his eyes and the ocean poured over me, “the truth?”

“Mhm, and if you know it too. Then that means you've been found, and finding isn't always what is best for us,” he paused, wiping his tears, “keep it a secret for now, and we will speak again soon.”

I nodded my head, “Yes sir.”

He stood up, laughing, rustling his hand through my hair, “No need to call me sir anymore, call me father.”

He gave me a wave goodbye and made his way down the stairs.

I entered the room to a wailing scream and a hard tackle. Wembly bumbled and stumbled all over me, speaking an unintelligible language. Tula was sitting on his bed with wide and horrified eyes.

“Nope,” he said, “nuh uh, you're dead, like, you died.”

“Shut up, tulip.”

“Don't call me tulip!” Tula spouted, leaping off his bed.

“We thought you were dead.” Hector said.

I tried pushing Wembley off, but she put up a good fight.

Then I turned to look at Hector, “Dead? Why would I be dead?”

He furrowed his eyebrow, “That thing ripped you apart. Granted we all saw you kill it, but,” he paused, “You were on the ground for minutes. You weren't even breathing.”

“Yeah dude,” Tula added, “they had to pick you up in pieces, basically pulled apart.”

I remembered most of what happened, but it was still a blur. My brain was fried from my dream, “Oh right… um, I don't know. I just woke up and then they brought me back.”

“That was it?”

“Yeah…”

Hector shot me a look, laughing it off as he pulled me from Wembly’s clutches.

“Cool, I’m glad you're safe, and… put some clothes on.”