I found myself in an empty sort of place. One filled with black and white, no signs of a sky or clouds anywhere in the distance above me. I was amidst vines of scorching hands and gripping knives tugging on my floating body.

They were souls, souls that dragged me down with every breath I seemed to take. I struggled for hours, trying to break free of their grasp, but there were far too many. Too many souls I haven’t got the heart to face. Too many innocent, horror-struck screams echoing back at me.

I would scream and attempt to break free of this madness, searching for an exit, something to get me out. Every night and every morning, I would only wake when they dragged me down to the deepest layer of this dark abyss. And every night, I’d have the same dream, repeating the cycle. I hated it.

It was night again. As my eyes slowly blinked open, a four-part feeling crept its way atop my aching body.

The first feeling was that of a subtle pain. Specifically in my leg and upper abdominal area. The pain wasn’t bad, nor did it hinder my ability to walk. It was annoying. Annoying like the buzzing sound in my ears when a bee is hovering around me. It was similar to a leg falling asleep, except instead of the numbness, it was more of an irritating pull on my muscles. I was sure my kidney was stabbed clean through, and yet I felt nothing strange happening inside. Was my kidney not functioning anymore? I didn’t know, nor did I care.

The second feeling was the realization that hit me of what had happened. Everything from Rina, to Leonidas, to falling, to… Now. This feeling was possibly worse than the pain in my leg. It touched my soul, rather than my skin protecting it. It was uncertainty, doubt, and being left powerless. All things that were too distant for me to understand.

The third feeling was actually quite nice. It was the feeling that woke me in the first place, and the feeling that continued even after all my thoughts had processed. Mooks was alive, wearing a small brown bandage around his torso while simultaneously licking my face and wagging his tail. I didn’t smile, although this was possibly the first time I actually wanted to.

The fourth feeling was one that wrapped all the others together. It gave clarity to my life being here, and not on the seafloor. It balanced out the pain with a mellow feeling of comfort. The comfort of Mooks, and the comfort of the mattress I was lying on.

Wait…. Mattress? I quickly sprung my body upright to examine my surroundings, but that ‘nonexistent’ pain in my kidney shot me right back into the pillow. “Grrgh.” I grunted lowly, trying my best not to make any more noise before I figured out where in the world I was.

Since Mooks had a bandage, and he seemed happier than when he ate Rina’s steak, I relaxed ever so slightly. “Where are we?” I whispered in his ear, glancing around me.

It seemed as if we were both in some sort of wooden cabin. A cabin with no windows, bearskins on the walls and floor, and a short ceiling. It wasn’t tall, but if I stood up there wasn’t a doubt in my mind I’d have to duck down a bit.

“Some weird old guy came and saved us!” Mooks stopped his licking, putting more focus into wagging his tail and jumping atop me.

“A weird old guy?” I sighed.

“I forgot his name…” Mooks whimpered, “Wait, no I didn’t! He never told me!”

“Where is he now?”

“My my.” A crusty voice came from the doorway behind me. I couldn’t turn around, so I waited for this ‘weird old guy’ to make his presence. To no surprise, this man wasn’t old at all. In fact, I would go as far as to say he was still young—older than me, but young.

“What a wonderful looking group you two make.” The man said with an accent I couldn’t recognize. Maybe an Aphian accent? I never traveled that far north, but from the travelers I encountered, it sounded like it.

As he approached us, I managed to finally put a face to his voice. He looked as if he was about the age of a newly-born father. His hair was as red as the strawberries I used to eat on my mother’s farm. He was short, precisely as short as the ceiling above us. His face looked as if it’s been through more than just a war, and his eyes were as dark as a freshly ripe plum. He had a slight hunch to his walk, falling proportionally with his dark brown robes.

I slowly attempted to sit upright again—this time—taking my precious time to do so. He watched me carefully, laughing to himself. “My my, a warrior you are, I see. Wounded and thrown off a ship, yet you dare to stand back up.” His words sounded like a question, but the way he said it with his accent just made it sound as if he was mocking me. Either way, I ignored it.

After adjusting myself in proper positioning so as to not hurt my injuries, I managed to sit upright, “Why did you help us? We were as good as dead last night.”

“Last night?” The man laughed, “You’ve been in bed, two days now if I reckon.”

Two days?! I’ve been in bed for two days? Is my body seriously that weak it can’t handle a couple of stab wounds? Then again, the amount of blood I must’ve lost was enough to kill me. Yet here I was, saved by a young-old man.

“When I found you two,” The man started, “Your bodies had lost so much blood I barely thought you’d give a pulse.” He chuckled, “Yes yes, very lucky to be alive.”

Blood loss. Of course. I think ahead, like always.

“Sir!” Mooks yelped at him, “Can you give me more fishies, please! My tummy is grumbling!”

“My my, you sure seem to be excited, young one… Ohp!” He pounced, “That reminds me.” The man reached into his pocket and grabbed some sort of strange glass vial out of it. Inside was an odd-colored blue liquid I’ve never seen before in my life. He tossed it to me and motioned for me to drink it.

I grabbed the vial with caution. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Alastor, former general of the King’s first-class line of offense. Headmaster for the department of Gifted soldiers, and of course,” He bowed, “Runaway criminal for non charitable acts towards the King’s Vault of Glass.” He answered without a single blink of hesitation or secrecy.

Smiling, the man exited the room, waiting for me to somehow join him.

I looked over at Mooks, who seemed to be more confused than I was. Apparently Mooks didn’t wake too early before me, so we were both in the same state of being baffled.

“Vault of Glass…” I said out loud, unscrewing the cap on the vial and hesitating to drink it. I hovered it around my nose for a bit—it smelled like rat poison and stomach acid. Putting all my values aside, I decided to trust him. He did save my life, and if he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have woken up in the first place. I sighed, drinking it while holding my nose shut.

After tasting the somewhat-pleasant sensation of what I would describe as the color black, I felt nothing.. Nothing that made my stomach turn, nothing that made me instantly puke, nothing that hurt me more than the pain I was already in. In fact, I felt pretty good. The unmatched taste from the smell helped that feeling even more.

I leaped out of bed and jumped in the air. I jumped again, and again, and again. What the hell did this man just make me drink?

“You feel it too right!” Mooks jumped alongside me. “I drank that blue stuff and I’m floppin’ and whippin’ all over!”

Although my body felt good as new, I still had too many questions to place my caution aside. I was also naked except for a pair of small shorts, bandages around my arms, stomach, and leg, and a pair of socks that were torn to shreds. After looking around for a second or two, I noticed my cloak hanging on a hook by the door, so I grabbed it and made my way to the other room.

A small, yet comfy looking kitchen popped into view with Alastor behind one of the wooden countertops. He had a small chimney-like fire pit behind him—roaring in flames—and a cauldron of some sort inside it. Boiling water leaked from the edges of the cauldron, spreading the scents of freshly chopped vegetables and pieces of raw fish, almost humidifying the room. The smell was on par, if not better than Fo. Being blessed with all this food recently really takes me back to the slop I used to indulge in.

I took a seat at a round table beside the fire, patiently waiting for something to happen. Maybe there was a slow-release poison in the vial taking its effect the longer we waited. Maybe this man was about to capture us and take us to the King himself for a reward. Maybe I needed to stop thinking and start talking.

“So, Alastor was it?” I asked politely. “Having all those titles and being in a hut like this raises a few suspicions, does it not? You seem to have no guard as to who I am or what information I know.”

Alastor walked over to the cauldron, stirring the ingredients with a large wooden spoon. “My my, curious are we. Maybe a man such as myself wants to get away from all the hardships and live a normal life between the mountains. Names, titles, awards. They mean nothing. You are no threat to me. I only give information that I see fit for one to know. And you,” He pointed at my scar, smiling caulky. “You lack information.”

Alastor loosened the fire a bit, taking his time with the large wooden ladle, pouring the stew into a small wooden bowl. He did the same for another bowl, giving both me and Mooks an equal portion. “Eat up. Then we talk.”

I took his words cautiously, but that fresh smell of the stew won me over, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting with a belly full of nutritious goodness.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked us how we ended up the way we were.” I grumbled, feeling my stomach as full as a melon.

“Heh, All of us get tangled up from time to time.” He paused, taking a warm sip of his stew. I could hear the carrots and broccoli crushing and popping in his mouth. “That scar on your neck,” He pointed with his spoon. “Tells me more than I need to know.”

“You mentioned something about the Gifted? And the Vault of Glass? Explain.” I ordered, realizing how rude and demanding I sounded. “Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Alastor chuckled, taking another sip of the stew. “My my… I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the Gulag yes?”

I nodded.

“Why do ya think there were kids in such a place?”

I didn’t have an answer. I could tell by the look in his face he knew I wouldn’t.

“You kids were being raised. Raised to be soldiers… The fights would divide the strong between the weak. Those who survived, stayed. Stayed until a rightful age to fight on battlefields. You were a lucky fella. If it weren’t for the explosions you’d be as good as dead by now... Or, you’d be on the King’s side. Perhaps even a general, my, my. Time flies.”

That’s right, the explosions. The explosions I still had no answers to. The explosions that saved my life seven years ago. “What—” I started, but he cut me off immediately.

“I don’t know what they were either. To this day, it’s still a mystery in my head.”

I sighed again. Sighing was a habit I’ve recently come to develop the more I talked to people. It was a way for me to express anything that remained in my body in a civil and righteous manner. It soothed me, and it felt good to do so. Besides, I needed to sigh. It relieved my lungs, and kept me alive.

“What about the Vault of Glass?” I asked, waiting for him to finish his next spoonful of stew.

“My my, what you wanna know about it?”

“Well—for starters—What it is.”

Alastor stayed silent for a moment, and the only sound we could hear was Mooks licking his bowl in a rhythmic manner.

“The Vault of Glass is the King’s prize collection of… Well… Items of sorts. That’s how I came about that vial you drank. Got plenty more too. I should also mention that after a few hours, you might vomit and be tucked in pain. A small side effect of the elixir.”

“Great.” I bickered, already feeling my stomach turning. “What items of sorts? That tells me nothing.” I bickered.

“You ask more than you tell.” Alastor smiled, finishing his bowl of stew. He got up, stretched, and walked over to the only window in his tiny house. The window was small and it was dark outside, yet he looked like he was looking at something, or perhaps someone. “My my, the winds sure are howling tonight.”

“What was in the vial you gave me,” I asked again. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Alastor walked back to the table. He grabbed Mooks’s empty bowl and gave him an extra cupful of leftovers. “It’s a healing remedy. Good for internal damages, but smells like death.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. It did smell like death, maybe even worse than death. “I feel as if there isn’t a single thing wrong with my body. How can such a small amount of liquid work so quickly and so effectively.”

Alastor grinned, leaning back in his wooden chair. “The smallest things are the ones that matter the most. It hasn’t fully healed you yet. Sum’ pain should be alleviated, however. ”

I was pretty irritated by this point, the only thing keeping me staying was my only remaining question. “What is the Vault of Glass?” I didn’t know why it intrigued me so much. Just the name alone was curious enough.

Alastor chuckled privately. “My my, you haven’t even told me your name and here you are, bossing me around like a slave.”

“Cairo.” I said, “This is Mooks.” I gestured to the wolf below the table.

“Oh don’t worry, your friend filled me in already. I just wanted to hear it from your mouth.” He looked towards the window again, smiling even wider. “You want to know about the Vault, yes? Perhaps your attention should be focused more on the gentlemen outside.”

Gentlemen outside? So he did see someone. I didn’t know as if to feel afraid or startled, all I knew was that the sudden increase in my heartbeat hindered my ability to think properly. It definitely wasn’t fear, and I wasn’t startled. I was tense. I was uncertain of what to expect. That’s what got to me.

Taking his advice to the back of my mind, I stood up and made my way to the door. After opening the old wooden door and ducking my head underneath it, I stepped onto what seemed like a beach of some sort.

My feet sank into the white sand below me, and the fresh smell of ocean waves filled my nose once more. It looked like we were still in the ridge, somewhere deep and away from where the ship had passed by. Many sharp and massive rocks remained scattered about, and the waters seemed to be too shallow for any fish to live in.

However, as I glanced around, I noticed something odd in the distance. It was dark, and the moonlight barely gave me any help, but I was certain I was seeing three men walking towards me. Two of which seemed about my height, the third, however, made me itch my eyes to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

In my days inside the Gulag, I have seen a fair share of men that towered over me like mountains to a pebble. This man, however, was no ordinary man. He nearly tripled my height, had hands the size of boulders, and eyes that were ready to kill. This was a giant.

Alastor came out behind me, slapping me on the back. “My my, looks like you got some visitors!”

...

By this time of night, the only light I could see was the one inside Alastor’s house, along with the glimmering sea shells along the shallow tide. The light from the house reached a fair distance onto the beach, showing enough of what I wanted to see. The moon was hidden within the clouds, and the ridge blocked any natural light on the mountain’s surface, only giving way to passing fireflies and tiny creatures.

As I stood on the porch, wearing nothing but a cloak, my underwear, bandages around my arms, legs, and stomach, and a pair of house socks, I noticed the three gentlemen stop just at the perfect distance so I wouldn’t be able to see their faces. I didn’t really understand it until the biggest man—the one who tripled my height—sent the other two towards me.

I kept my gaze locked onto them, signaling to Alastor he should probably go back inside. “This might get dirty.”

Alastor chuckled, “Don’t be foolish. Watching fights is what I’m best at! Unless of course, you think they’ll come on in and have a cup of tea with us?”

I ignored him, fixing my eyes onto the slow arrival of Mooks by my side. Luckily, he brought me a pair of clothes that weren’t mine. Of course, they were Alastor’s, as they took me a solid minute to squeeze into, giving just the right amount of time for the two gentlemen to make their appearance.

“My my, you must be careful now,” Alastor provoked me with a smile. “The remedy I gave heals your wounds, but it won’t reduce the pain inflicted upon them.”

I nodded, making my way further into the sand until I stood face-to-face with the two men. They wore brown and green matching tights that tailored to their knees, occupying their slim look quite fashionably, then a pair of black leather boots below them. One had a short patch of black curly hair, while the other wore a full beard along with lengthy dirt-brown locks. They had well-crafted swords holstered to their waist, but neither seemed confident with sharpened steel at their control. Both wore a stern look, and both looked more desperate than I was. I couldn’t blame them though; I looked like shit.

“You looking for me?” I asked them, no hint of intimidation in my beaten voice.

One of the men pulled out a piece of paper from their pockets, examining it for a few moments, then putting it away. The man then nodded to his companion, and he drew his sword from the holster around his waist.

I sighed, “I’m to guess that’s a yes?”

The man on the left didn’t even hesitate as to double-grip and swing his massively large chunk of steel at me. He held it so uncomfortably I almost wanted to correct him to at least make a valuable effort out of his swordsmanship. Instead, I took a single step back and the sword took control, almost swinging into the other man.

“Are you crazy!” The man shouted at him, “What in the hell are you doing?!”

“Well we’re supposed to kill him ain’t we?”

“Yes but not like that!”

“Yeah, well, how we supposed to do it then?”

They kept shouting at each other as if they completely forgot I was even there. The large man in the back still hasn’t moved, making me concerned about what his intentions might be. He just stood there, still as a statue. He was quite the distance away from me, but I could swear he wasn’t breathing. His chest was more still than him.

Was he just using these two to bait me? Were these two his babysitters or something? No, perhaps he was using them to focus on me, watching my moves, and learning my weaknesses. Weaknesses I didn’t have. Well, besides my wounds.

The other man drew his sword now—the only way I was able to recognize such an action was through the obnoxious sound the blade made against the edges of his holster. This man seemed far more experienced than the previous. He also seemed pretty loose on his feet, and his weight was evenly distributed throughout his body. This was a man who knew how to fight. My knees became unfastened as a natural instinct, losing their carelessness.

However, the first man pushed him out of the way and started aimlessly swinging his sword again, hoping to land a hit at something. The rough edge of his blade whistled through the gentle ocean breeze, exploding flashbacks in my head I didn't want to see.

I took a step back, then dashed to the left. I ducked at his next swing, dancing along with his sword. With a broad and careful turn, I jumped back this time, realizing I was just being rude, toying with his lack of skill. On the next aimless swing, I leaned back slightly, watching as the weight of the sword seemed to control the man more than he could control the sword.

I took this opportunity to leap forward and knuckle him to the jaw with the weight of my body guiding my blow. His face twisted as my knuckles rang through his teeth, and he fell without even making a single squeak.

All I did was knock him out. I didn’t know how much force to use—maybe he was a brute—so I used enough that would break through his consciousness. His sword fell into the sand, and his partner's face began to boil with a bright red tint. However, he didn’t attack me. Instead, he thought an introduction was necessary.

The man bowed, “It’s a pleasure to be in combat with you sir! My name is-”

“Don’t care,” I stopped him. “We either fight or you leave.”

His face instantly dropped its phony persona, and twisted into a heated mixture of rage and tightness. His eyebrows seemed to drop so low I thought they were going to fall off any second. A vein popped on his forehead like a root off a tree and he grabbed his sword again. The sweat in his palm made his grip loose against the leather handle, so I carefully took that as an advantage.

Immediately, he went for a low swing, hoping to catch me off guard with an unpredictable move. It was actually quite clever, and it would have probably hit me if it weren’t for the sword getting caught by the sand.

Nevertheless, even though I was able to dodge the swing, I wasn’t able to dodge the sand that came crashing into my eyes along with it. The pale specs of tiny rocks caught me by surprise and lowered my guard, so I leaped back to gain some distance, furiously blinking until the sand fell off.

With the constant blackness flashing in my vision, and a prickling tingle against my lids, it became hard to predict and avoid this man’s movements. He noticed it too, finally thinking he has an opening.

From the left, the man swung again, shifting his weight from one leg to another. I ducked, crashing back down on the sand, but the man swapped his grip mid-swing and the tip of his silver blade came crashing down on me.

I felt my heart skip a beat as I just barely pulled my body backward, sand rushing through my neck and the tip of his blade nicking my hair like a pair of scissors. I grunted as my body came barreling down into the soft ground. A pain shot through my kidney from the sudden fall, which was a way of my body telling me “enough is enough.” I still had to deal with the giant in the back, so these two needed to be disposed of.

I propped myself back up, shook off the remaining sand in my face, and waited for his next attack. Although I kept my ground, my heart was racing faster than a horse on all fours.

“You’re dead!” The man yelled as he came charging at me, his sword barely withstanding his grip in the air like a marathon runner holding a torch.

What a foolish mistake, I thought. Arrogance and confidence had stolen his pride away. A simple mistake I’ve fallen victim to too many times.

He plunged his sword down from the sky, mouth wide open, screaming nonsense into the cold breeze encompassing us. There was no aim. No precision. No chances to withdraw.

I stepped to the side, palmed his hands with my own to make the blade fall out of his grasp, then heel-kicked his diaphragm and sent him rolling and tumbling into the sand. His body twitched a few times as he wheezed and gasped for air. His sword flew off towards the rocks in the distance, clashing and clinging against the rough edges of stone greeting its flight. I watched, and the man slowly fell into unconsciousness.

I guess the King was recruiting anyone at this point. These men were soldiers, yet they couldn’t handle a beating, nor a single blow with a little extra force.

I sighed, now focusing my gaze onto the hulk-of-a-man in the distance. Alastor clapped and cheered, as did Mooks by his side. “Would you like some help with the last one Cairo!?” Mooks howled at me. I shook my head.

The man twitched his head to the side, and a loud crack popped from his thick neck, echoing through the silent atmosphere around us. His shoulders rolled, his face twitched, and he began to approach me—because what else was he going to do?

Every single fight I’ve been in has always been the same. The so-called ‘boss’ would send his underlings or minions to fight in his place. The minion would either get killed, or do enough damage to me and then get killed. The boss would make his introduction, I would sigh, and we would fight.

It was so cliche, boring, and always ended the same. I’d rather listen to Mooks howl all night long then go through the same process again. This man seemed no different. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but this seemed like the introduction to all my other fights and rubbles I’ve been a part of. The same process, just with different people.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Are you bleeding man thrown off ship?” The man called out to me from afar, his voice as stale and low as the back of a cupboard.

“Does my answer matter to you?” I yelled back. “Do you not care for your men?”

The man looked down at his fallen soldiers. “What men?”

I was waiting for him to follow that statement with something like, ‘These are just children that are in my way.’ Or perhaps something like, ‘Men who lose are not my men. They are weaklings I don’t associate myself with.’

He, however, remained silent. No dumb-for-nothing speech. No prideful claims about how many fights he’s been victorious in. No extraordinary mentions about his powers. He just stood there, patiently waiting; I liked this man.

“Well,” I started, “If you’re not here to fight then what do you want?”

The man came out from the distance and reached inside the fallen soldier’s pocket. His fingers were so big and bulky he could barely fit them inside the tiny slits in the man’s clothes. He pulled out the piece of paper, took a few looks at it, then took a few looks at me. He repeated this process about five times or so, finally making his approach towards me. “You are bleeding man from ship.” He grumbled, cringing his forehead.

“I never said I wasn’t.”

The man stopped about six feet away from me, looking down at me with respect, as if I was the giant.

“Your name?” He mumbled.

“Cairo. Yours?”

“Beljuan. Iron fist for King Richard, second.”

His struggle with words was quite fond for his size. It’s as if whenever he tried to articulate a sentence, his words would get scrambled on their way up, exiting his lips in tangles and poorly drawn scribbles. Aside from his throat, his head was actually quite small, meaning his brain was too. Not just because of his head being small, but rather the amount it needed to work to operate such a creature.

Beljuan clenched his fist and raised it in the air as if he was holding a one-handed axe. He then plummeted his fist into the sand, sending a massive shock wave that not only reached Alastor’s house, but sent me off my feet and in the air out of nowhere.

I was nearly six feet off the ground before I could even react to my body exiting its natural gravity. This was going to be one hell of a fight. I thought to myself, my eyes beginning their search for an opening

The man stretched his hand out to grab me mid-air, and I barely managed to plant my feet onto his big-as-bread fingers just in time to give myself a solid landing. If he managed to grab me, I’d pop faster than a balloon.

My landing sent a few pieces of sand into my mouth, and I took this time to spit them out and observe my enemy. He was approaching, faster this time.

How was I going to win against a man this big? I could use my—... No, that’s only for emergencies only, and this might turn out to be one. I could faze him, disorient him using his vital points, maybe even muster enough strength to break a bone or two. I could even throw sand in his eyes to land a hit, but no hit from my body would knock this man out. I could, of course—kill him, using a variety of techniques. But that final spot on my arm was for the King, not for one of his loyal servants.

Beljuan walked over to a sharp rock sticking out of the ground about the size of a wooden cart. After dusting off a circle of sand around the rock, he pulled it out with ease and rested it on his shoulder.

“Grrr,” he grunted, lobbing the rock underhandedly into the night sky above us.

Looks like this man was smarter than he looked. Not only would I have to keep my attention on the boulder, which I couldn’t see anymore due to the lack of light, but I’d also have to keep my attention on him. I wasn’t cross-eyed, nor did I have special powers to make me have ten eyes around my head. This was indeed a very strategic play.

Forthwith, and without hesitation, he began charging at me full speed. Nothing but his eyes, orders, and steps guiding his path.

Two options laid themselves in front of me. I either dodged his attack and only hoped the boulder won’t land on where I stood, or, I face a punch from his meaty fist straight on and only pray it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looked.

I decided to take my chances with his punch or even a kick if he was feeling generous. Kicks are usually a lot easier to withstand, but I doubt he would give me the privilege. So, I took a deep breath, braced my core, tightened my back, and placed both my forearms in front of my face.

From the tiny crack between my forearms, I could see his right fists clenched tightly, almost as if they were marking their target. However, I noticed something else unusual—his fist was shining. Shining in a way I couldn’t quite explain with words alone. It was like a tiny sparkle under the moonlight, glaring into my eyes and forcing me to squint them.

That’s when I realized why he said ‘Iron fist’ after his name. He was a Gifted, one that can turn any part of his body into forged steel. Even his fingernails seemed to grip and slide across his ever so solid skin.

As he stepped beside me, he caulked back his fist so fast I didn’t even see it happen. I gulped, and for the second time, as I was witnessing his fist traveling towards me, I began preparing myself for a possible second death.

Suddenly, I heard a sharp noise ring through my ears like two rocks clashing against each other. That’s because it was exactly that. The boulder he threw traveled so high it landed at the top of the ridge; it was a trap. A trap I foolishly fell for. I, for once in a very long time, had made the wrong decision.

…

There wasn’t really a way I could describe the feeling of being punched at full force from a massive fist made of iron. The only thing I could compare it to was a sledgehammer being hurled at your ribs, and a mountain pressing it down even further. To say my body didn’t tumble across the sand like a ragdoll would be a lie. No, it flew. My body flew against the other rocks on the opposite side of the mountain.

To be honest, I don’t even know how I was alive. My guess could only be from the remedy having a lasting effect for a few hours or something similar to that. There wasn’t a single doubt that every bone in my forearms and ribs were broken. It wasn’t just the burst of blood through my mouth that notified me, but the pain that my body was trying to get rid of.

This might’ve been the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. Worse than starving for five days of the week. Worse than being tortured against your will. Worse than…

“GHHHUUUUGH.” I gasped for air as blood clogged my throat. I couldn’t even move to flip myself over to the side. I just sat there, perched against the cracked rock, waiting for my life to end. My legs twitched, my head was groggy and dazed, and my mind wasn’t functioning. The sweat that previously traveled down my spine was replaced with a deep red liquid escaping through the many wounds my back was suffering through.

I couldn’t breath. Wheezing for air, my lungs forced me to stop resisting and let my body fade away into the everlonging darkness. “GGHGH!” My attempts of inhaling air were met with an even greater pain than the iron fist could ever induce upon my frail body.

At the corner of my eye, I noticed Mooks running over to me with something clenched between his teeth. A small vial of scarlett liquid bottled itself between his bite. I couldn’t even do more than cough as he took the lid off with his tongue and spoon-fed me the liquid with his jaw.

At first, my body rejected it, and more blood came gushing out of my mouth in spits and coughs. The color of the liquid was the same as my blood, but it managed to go down my throat smoothly. It tasted like cider, but mixed with the metallic taste of my own blood, it had more of a bitter-sour taste.

“Cairo!” Mooks’ eyes as teary and fluorescent as the light shining on them. “Please be okay! Just hang on a little longer!” His pitiful yelps were the only sounds my body didn’t reject.

I wanted to answer him, but my mouth wouldn’t move. My eyes slowly began to fade as Mooks kept licking my face to keep me awake, and no matter how hard I wanted to tell him to keep going, it wasn’t working. I just laid there—broken and forgotten—like all the men I’ve ever killed.

A few more noises escaped my mouth as the blood slowly began to subside. I started feeling a light pressure pulling down on my chest, but it wasn’t worse than the pain I experienced. Crunching and ripping noises vibrated throughout my body and bones, which was possibly the most disturbing noise I’ve ever heard. It sounded like paper being ripped apart in a cave, echoing throughout like a lone whisper.

Mooks kept licking and licking me, smothering my face in his saliva. I really didn’t like when he did this, although now was an exception. “Alright!” I yelped, “That’s enough!”

He stopped licking, and my mind began to adjust to the surroundings again. I could talk. Better yet, I could move. There was no pain anywhere in my body, besides a light pressure around my chest, it’s as if it wasn’t even there in the first place. All the dizziness and deprivation that spiraled throughout me just disappeared. I wiggled my fingers and toes to double check—and yes, I was able to move them.

I quickly glanced over at Alastor, who was still standing by his house like an innocent grandmother. He smiled and winked at me, but my attention was more focused on Beljuan, who didn’t seem pleased with my survival.

I leaned my body onto Mooks, slowly making my way back onto my feet. At first, my knees trembled, and taking any big breaths of air only hurt my lungs even more. I stumbled and fell after my first time back on my feet, my face diving into the sand, making me feel like an old man without his cane.

Mooks helped me up again, and I tightened my cloak around my neck. It had a few rips, which was irritating. This cloak was passed down to me from a man I valued quite deeply. It was one of the only things I carried with me that had any value. Seeing it ripped and torn didn’t feel too good; it felt cold and empty.

Beljuan took his sweet time to dig up another boulder. The new one he found was even bigger, and I was certain this one would cause a shock wave in the sand even greater than his fist could.

“Hiyup!” He forced an unintentional growl as he launched the boulder in the sky again. His fist turned to iron, his eyes of steel glimmered in the moonlight, and his steps shook the earth beneath me.

“Survived punch from me?” He questioned. “Praise I give you little man.”

No taunts? No yelling? No confusion? Only a warrior’s praise? I truly liked this man’s ambitions and attitude. If it weren’t for his orders, I might’ve asked for him to travel with me. However, he almost killed me, worked under that bastard king, and too big to fit in a boat. This man was my enemy. An enemy I gave my fullest respect to.

I sighed, feeling blood slowly return to my pale body. It felt awkward, like a bottle of water being filled up again. So, I stood there, watching as the man began charging at me once again.

“Get back Mooks,” I signaled. “This is a man worthy of my-”

I took a step forward, but I was instantly interrupted by something leeching onto my foot with a fierce, sweaty grip. It was one of the soldiers from before—the second one who knew how to handle a sword. His grip was strong, as I couldn’t break free from it fast enough.

“You’re a dead man!” The soldier squealed from the sand.

I ignored him and shifted my gaze onto Beljuan, who was not only just feet away from me, but his iron fist had already reached the distance between my face and his.

Yeah, I think I’ve had enough for the day.

I swiftly brought my left forefinger to his fist, stopping it with ease as I released all my energy into him, my eyes burning with a fierce blaze of emerald and gold.

The soldier’s face, along with Beljuan, froze. Froze as if they just witnessed some sort of miracle. Froze like their stomachs dropped to the bottom of their shoes. Froze like true fear, the fear that every man had nightmares of. It was the fear of knowing defeat.

I grabbed one of his metal fingers, and I flicked my hand downward, releasing even more stored energy from my body. Beljuan’s massive body followed my flick as fast as a mirror copies my actions. His body sunk lower and lower into the sand until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Then I let go of my vengeance and plopped him back onto the surface while taking grip of his head.

I looked down at the soldier grabbing my foot. One look into my blazing eyes made him let go, and he scowled on his knees, begging for mercy. “Please, please, please spare me! I’m just a-”

“Shut up.” I cut him off. “Go tell your king I’m coming for him,” My voice was smooth, yet strong.

He remained frozen in fear, so I barked at him again. “NOW!”

He instantly jumped out of his trousers and began screaming and running down the beachline, Leaving his sword, his pride, and his bravery below the sand.

My eyes soon returned back to normal, and I made my way back to the house. I practically dragged my body as all the strength I just had meticulously vanished without a trace. Fortunately, Mooks was very well trained to give piggyback rides to fallen comrades like me. So, he did most of the walking.

“My my, gravity manipulation, ” Alastor smiled, watching as Mooks tugged me onto the bed. “Quite the extraordinary ability you have there. A wonderful performance indeed. You would’ve made a fine soldier. Yes, a fine soldier indeed.”

I ignored him, staring at the ceiling as he pulled a chair next to me. I noticed, Alastor was a man of witts and curiosity, just like me.

“What was in the vial this time?” I asked, my words sounding more scrambled than a box of toys.

“Ever heard of a blood transfusion?”

My eyes shut, I sighed. “I’ve done one before…”

“What you drank was a marvelous little drop of 0- blood. Amplified and brewed to be able to fill the body with lost blood in seconds. Also,” Alastor pointed and stretched his skinny finger towards the ceiling like a teacher giving lessons to a noble boy. “It was stirred with the most powerful painkiller—Lych venom.”

“Lych Venom?”

Alastor chuckled with a slight cough in his throat, “If I told you where to find it... Well, you wouldn’t be too happy.”

“Noted.” I sighed, feeling my stomach twist and turn into grumbles. The last time I asked about Lych Venom, I received the same reply. Best not to question its source—I thought to myself—even after all these years. “So none of my bones are actually healed?”

“Well, the blue vial will do its duty for the next few hours. That one contains a one-of-a-kind ingredient, something not so easy to find as well. I suggest you sit put, wait it out if you need to. Besides, these vials are the only ones like it, worth about 2 diamond clovers. Best to do as I say, make them work effectively.”

2 diamond clovers? I thought to myself. I could buy an island for that amount. A crew to guide me across any sea. A ship far greater than La Pionera; if there was such a thing.

Waiting it out seemed to be the only option. Although it wouldn’t prove any good. Then again, if I got up I wouldn’t even know where to go, or where to look. I needed to… Wait. The ship. I’ve completely forgotten. Leonidas was still with them, acting as their guide to a place no one knew how to get too.

I slowly adjusted myself in the bed and sat upright to face Alastor clearly. “Two answers I want from you.”

He smiled playfully, “My my, and what gave you the right to ask questions. I saved your life. Fed you. Then saved your life again. And all you’ve done is ask questions you shouldn’t be asking.” His eyebrow raised, his smile as confident as ever. As much as I hated it, he was right. I was a terrible guest.

“I only ask one thing from you, Cairo was it?” He asked.

I didn’t answer.

“There’s a little girl, ‘bout sixteen or so now that I reckon. She remains enslaved by the king’s side. Her name is Laena. All I ask is for you to free her… That is all. She doesn’t deserve to suffer inside the castle...”

I assumed it was his daughter at first. Given the face he made and by the way he spoke. I didn’t know what it felt like to love a child. But I knew it had to be the case. His face was just the same as my mother’s when she passed. His face was dead, yet more alive than ever before.

I nodded. “What does she look like?”

He stayed silent for a moment, wiping his eye. “You’ll know when you see her.”

Somehow, I knew he was right. I knew that I’d recognize her instantly. No matter how she looked, acted, or lied. I would know when I found her.

“Now then!” He jollied enigmatically. “Setting aside your promise, what questions can I answer for you on this bloody evening?”

“Tell me about the Vault of Glass.”

“My my,” Alastor chuckled, “where should I start?”

“The beginning. Anything with solid information I might want to know.”

“The beginning you say? My my,” Alsotor coughed a chuckle, “As I remember to the best of my abilities, the Vault of Glass is a treasure-vault of sorts. Except instead of the vault being forged out of iron or concrete, it is entirely made out of thick, glass-like material. Now this ‘glass-like’ substance has a strong transparency and resemblance to normal glass. To this day, I haven’t a clue of what the material is, but oh is it strong. If I reckon, Beljuan would not be able to crack through, even if he tried. According to my distinct knowledge, the vault itself is located in the king’s hall. That is, if it hadn’t been transported to a different location by now. It has been some years, and as you can see, I haven’t been a part of the world for quite some time.”

“Who knows about it?” I asked him, the pains in my body slowly subsiding with every passing second.

“Only those that are curious enough to want to know. The vault contains some prized treasures King Richard II managed to steel across his reign. Some items inside are nothing more than fancy vials of healing remedies and painkillers. The rest, however, either hold deep secrets or just look good on his display.”

“Now,” he dropped his smile, continuing in a rather serious manner. “There are four main items you should keep a lookout for. The Key of Hysteria, The Whistleblower’s Tongue, The Twin Tails of Lust, and a Dragon’s heart.”

“What do they look like?”

He didn’t answer the question, “Remember their names. That is all you need. Now then, let's get you some clothes, shall we.”

I sighed, unbothered.

Alastor was kind enough to lend me clothes that actually fit me. None of the clothes had any holsters for knives or secret compartments, but who was I to complain about such a tiny detail.

It was actually quite ironic at times. I was so used to carrying around all those tiny blades and whatnot, yet I never used them for anything except for peeling apples or skinning deers. I would normally carry an extra sack of money I had acquired for doing deeds I’d rather keep quiet about. Now, my bag only consisted of dried scraps of meat, unpeeled carrots, and two pears.

I took this time to tell Alastor about the ship and Leonidas’s plan for the jewel. I figured Alastor wasn’t a threat to me. He was far too wise to be so. He stayed calm and managed to crack a disapproving laugh while I recapped my recent events.

“And since when do you care about such things more than yourself?” He asked me, his brows speculating.

It was a good question. When did I start to care about those other than myself? Was I just lusting for the jewel? Or did I truly care about their lives? I honestly didn’t know. It wasn’t something I wanted to know.

“My my, there’s still something I don’t quite understand about your fabulous story.” Alastor broke through the barrier between my thoughts and the world around me. “If you say Leonidas was a warden, how come it took you such a long time to figure it out? And how did no one else not see it either? Kalvin was a warden himself, I remember him clearly. Yet even he didn’t recognize him.”

My mouth perked open to speak, but I found no words escaping. Only thoughts, and silent breaths. He was right. It didn’t make any sense. I only realized it when Leonidas threw me off the edge, but even then it was too late. How did no one else recognize him?

Alastor smiled, “The Whistleblower’s Tongue.” His eyebrows shot up like fire atop a bundle of dead grass. “Give it to yourself, and any memory of your features will be erased from the world. You’d be nothing more but a whisper lingering through the night. Or so, I believe that’s how it works; I haven't a clue where the liquid comes from.”

That’s how no one remembered him. That’s how his persona was like a lost ghost in the sea. It felt strange, yet Mooks could see right through him.

My stomach turned. It wasn’t the usual knot I was used to by now. Rather a feeling of dryness. Like a realization of forgetting to do something important. My throat couldn’t even muster anything to say. I just sat there, waiting for more words to come out of his mouth.

“It only has a fair amount of uses,” Alastor added. “The king must’ve put some great thought into this plan. Very clever indeed, I’m surprised his mind could still operate under that crown.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked, my voice tense and hollow.

Alastor lightened his posture in the chair. He flushed his hand through his hair a couple of times, then glared at the ceiling. “My my, let’s just say there were more reasons for me escaping then I previously said. Reasons I’d rather not tell.”

I nodded, as I couldn’t agree with him more. I had reasons for my actions too. I had reasons for what I did, and what I planned on doing. Right now, to find my happiness, I know I needed to kill the king. Yet something inside of me wanted nothing more but to help Rina and Kalvin. For all I knew, they were as good as dead by now.

I got up from the chair and walked outside to clear my head. I could see the soldier from before laying in the sand, chest moving up and down beneath the calm ocean breeze. Beljuan remained sunken below the sand. I made sure to twist his head so he could still breathe in the slight chance he might’ve suffocated. I could see his chest moving, so I sighed a breath of relief. He truly was a great opponent. One of the best I’ve ever faced.

Alastor joined me by the doorframe. “You can leave those men to me. I’ll take care of them.”

“You’re not going to kill them are you?” I asked, stepping down from the porch.

“Heavens no!” He gasped excitingly, making it sound like he would do much worse than just killing. “I’ll send them on their way after a little chat. Although I won’t be sure they’ll return to the king after I speak with them..” He smiled even wider. I just took it as his way of intimidation and sparking a few tinges of fear into them. So, nothing that troubled me. Besides, I almost died an hour ago. A little fear for payback was nothing to be concerned about.

“How do I get to Torchmire from here?” I felt the breeze rush through my hair—it swindled me, filling the gaps and holes in my stare.

Alastor broke into a silent laugh, then calmed himself as to not seem too impolite. “My my, Torchmire is quite the distance from here. Two to three nights without storms I’d suppose.”

I sighed, “Don’t suppose you have an extra ship lying around?”

Alastor’s gaze matched my own. He picked a rock off the ground, then gave it to me. “How far do you believe you can throw this.”

I examined the rock for a moment, looking as far as my eyes can allow. “If I tried, longer than you can travel in a lifetime.”

“There’s your answer.”

I dropped the rock, “What do you mean?”

“I found a raft that floated by here yesterday. It was small, but big enough to travel in. Think of the raft as the rock. If you can cancel the gravity of the rock, you can propel the gravity of the raft.”

“I can’t just throw the raft in the sky and land myself in the middle of nowhere.” I bickered.

“No one said you have to.” His smile reaching the bones of his cheeks ever so slightly. It was creepy, but he was right. I would exhaust myself for using my Gift for that amount of time, but I can paddle with little to no friction or resistance. In fact, we could probably reach Torchmire within a few hours if I really pushed myself.

“Thank you,” I said with no expression in my voice or my face. “I was taught on how to use my gift after my escape. How to channel my energy to maximise output. As long as I am in physical touch with something, I can manipulate the gravitational force of it.”

“My my, so you’ve grasped onto the basic forms channeling your stored energy?” Alastor said, mockingly. “Well done.”

“What do you mean by basic?”

“Exactly what you think. Have you ever seen someone performa ritual, or perhaps hand gestures before releasing their gift?”

I thought for a moment. There was this one time with Sig… “Say I have, what of it?”

“There are more efficient ways to channel your energy. Gifted rely on their genes and DNA to perform what ordinary humans cannot. And if you take it a step further, my my, some true dangers would arise.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Well, if you hadn’t escaped from the Gulag, I would have taught it to you, along with anyone else that survived until the end.”

I stayed silent.

“When we meet again, perhaps I’ll consider giving you a few tips,” He laughed, patting me on the back.

“You seem quite certain we’ll meet again,” I gazed down on my arms, sighing deeply. “Trouble lingers my footsteps.”

“Say,” He gestured with his chin, “What might I find underneath those bandages around your forearms?” His curiosity on the tip of his tongue like he was reaching for something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Deaths. Memories. Regrets.”

“My my, you are an interesting fellow.”

I sighed again, “Not really.”

…

After another bowl of Alastor’s stew, I packed my stuff, which consisted of a bag of food and some silly items Alastor gave me to entertain myself and Mooks on our raft trip. He waved us goodbye, made me promise to keep his request, and led us to the edge of the ridge that looked out onto the open sea.

I got on the raft with Mooks, and we were off again. I could still see Alastor’s blazing red hair in the distance like a torch in a cave. As usual, he was smiling, and he walked back into his tiny house, deep inside the ridge.

Me and Mooks threaded far enough away from the rocks where I could finally put Alastor’s directions to use. I tightened my grip on the edge of the raft, loosening the gravity it had against the water. I made sure to be careful not to overdo it, as in the possibility of us slamming against an unexpected wave, we wouldn’t be sent flying into the night sky. This required extreme precision and technique, both things I haven’t really experimented a lot with. Well, besides the surgeries I performed in the past, and the people I experimented on. But that story is for another day. A day I can return to when my mind isn’t in a mess of shambles.

I inhaled, exhaled, and sat back down.

Mooks did the same beside me, “Did it work Cairo?”

I grabbed both the paddles in each of my hands, then gently let them submerge a few feet under water. “Let’s find out.”

I quickly pushed against the current and the tiny 10’-by-5’ raft shot across the water faster than a bull with an extra pair of legs. Mooks was lucky enough to grab both our bags in his jaw, but the force of the wind against us nearly shattered the raft into sticks and planks.

Small cracks formed in the hollow wood on the sides of the raft as if an axe had just made its presence against it. Waves sent fierce storms of water across us, and birds looked down as if we were a pair of deadly predators on the water’s roof.

“Perhaps not as fast this time,” I said, looking back to see us hundreds of feet away from the ridge. We were so far out all I could see is the silhouette of the mountain behind us. It was strange, I didn’t even feel that much wind or resistance in the seconds our raft propelled across the waters. It seemed like Alastor knew more about me then I cared to share.

“Hey Mooks,” I set the paddles aside, watching as he dropped the bags of food and belongings underneath the tiny wooden board where we sat. “What is happiness to you?”

“Why do you always ask me?” His grin dropped faster than the bags. “I’m just happy to be with you, by your side. I’m happy when Rina cooks. I’m happy when we meet new people. I’m happy when I sing to the moonlight.”

I shoved my face into my hands. I couldn’t understand those feelings. Why couldn’t I understand? I liked Rina’s food. I liked Mook’s presence. I liked meeting new people; Well, no I didn’t. Yet something inside me countered those intrinsic thoughts. Something was restricting my emotions, like a cage placed over me.

I glared across the waters, “Let’s go find them.”

Mooks licked my face, wiping the concern right off. “Wherever you go, I follow!”

I nodded and placed the paddles back into the water, “Get a grip, this is going to be a bumpy ride.”