Jack entered. The changed from hall to throne room. Pillars looked down upon him. He felt the need to hide but only space surrounded him. He bravely continued forward. Before him stood the throne and on it sat the king. Servants took care of his every need. Behind him stood a statue, staring down on Jack. It seemed odd. Each step was harder than the last but Jack moved against the mounting pressure. He came to the line and collapsed to his knees. A bow before the king.

“Speak.” The king commanded.

“Our villages to the west are being burned by the rebels. I plead for you to help us.” Jack said, head still low. His hand tightened around the knife in his coat. He noted the guards. They would not catch him.

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“I have sent men to the west already. Have they not took care of the rebels?”

“No, the rebels still raid the west.” He inched forward, ready to spring.

“I will send more men and…”

Jack launched. Blade forward. The guards too slow. The king in shock. Jack received the pleasure of what is coming.

The statue moved.

Jack’s blade did not bite flesh; it stopped him short. The statue was alive and breathing. It’s sword pierced through him. NO!

His body ran cold. Darkness embraced him. He was no more, only an object remained. Death.