SAVE POINT 76
Testing...Err, I mean, 'Loading'...100%
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Rosabella
> It's Rosabella the Second—the one I saw in my prophesy. She will free us all.
The yellow dragon's words echo in my head—reverberating there with shock. ...But there's something else reverberating there too—something bubbling up to the surface:
Yellow Dragon Name: Aria
Level: 5
Creator Magic: 75/100 [currently inhibited]
Yes. It's true. You will free them all.
I stumble backwards, my boots scuffing on the cobblestone floor, as a wave of nausea and knowing crashes over my head at the same time. —What? I clutch at my temples where pain explodes in tiny, starburst fireworks like every nerve is lit on fire.
> She has prophesy. She knows my name. She is, indeed, the one!
Her voice in my mind brinks on an ecstatic note as I stare deep into the dragon's pink eyes and, yet...and, yet, there has to be some mistake. I'm not here to save anything but my own ass. I'm here to get the root powder so I can stop nearly dying every three minutes. This mission started with that objective, and I'm pretty sure it's going to end like that too. But I kind of want to figure out why we're chained up in a dungeon so... What can it hurt to ask?
"Aria, why are they holding us all here?" I ask the beast.
The other two dragons suck in a breath. Because I used her name? Was the prophesy cheat code right? I got her name right? Was what I heard in my head...true?
Yes.
I feel the answer vibrate through my bones, but I'm not ready to accept it yet—not from a mere feeling. I want harder proof. Something...tangible.
Chains scrape across the floor as the enormous, canary-colored dragon shifts to squat closer to the mesh separating them from the rest of the room.
> They hold us here for processing.
Her eyes are huge and her voice, usually bright, is grim.
"Who?" I sputter. I feel my eyebrows crease over the bridge of my nose. What sort of people would chain others up?
"I thought the Sea People were friendly," Joy adds, stepping forward and brushing a wave of pink bang out of her face with a perturbed huff. The glare in her eyes tells me she'll be mowing down everyone who isn't amicable if given the chance.
> They were. Friendly, I mean.
Aria squeaks sadly.
> But, as the darkness cornered us and seeped behind our walls, the feeling of safety was lost, no matter how we dragons worked to keep everyone together. Paranoia set in—deep paranoia. Fear of the darkness. Fear of losing control. And our people turned on themselves. Turned on us.
> Locked us up like cattle and left us here because they can't decide what to do with us.
Ratadon—the burgandy dragon—sneers.
> And they test every outsider that wanders onto our shores before allowing them entrance.
Aria continues hollowly.
> There's rewards for those turn in their neighbors, family and friends if they think they've been contaminated by darkness. And instant death to those who don't pass.
"Pass?" I blurt, searching the beast's blinking eyes for some hint as to what she means, "What kind of test is it?"
And, whether I want to admit it or not, my heartbeat is suddenly racing 100 miles an hour. I can barely breathe because—
Because I'm infected by darkness.
It's in my lungs.
In my head and body. I took it on to heal The Game world.
...But this isn't like an Algebra test; there's no cheat sheet this time. How the fuck am I supposed to get out of instant death?
There's clamoring in the hall—the rustle of armor and thud of boots obviously tracing towards the door—
> You'll see, small one.
Aria says kindly.
'Small one.'
It's what Sparo calls me. My eyes smart with tears as I try to swallow all the sadness coiling in my throat. God, I miss the man—his safe arms that wrap around...his soothing voice and snarky remarks. It'd been torture to leave him behind, and, now, it's torture all over again to face this alone—face...whatever's now coming at us from behind that wood door. I throw a desperate look at Joy, but she just stares back, her thin lips drawn in a straight line.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The door busts open.
And there's an entire, black, body-armor-clad regimen.
There.
Just waiting for us.
"All of you. Wait to be released, and form a line," shouts the man in front, pointing a dark-gloved hand at us.
And his men scatter, bending over to address the locks on our chains with quick proficiency.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Released. The heavy chain links fall to the hard floor. I slip my feet and wrists out of the restraints, rubbing at the skin. Finally—
"Get behind me," Joy whispers, pulling me roughly behind her in line, "If anything happens..." Her eyes are wide, but she doesn't finish the statement.
A guard steps directly beside us. His lips enunciate in a deafening shout, "Move into the Questioning Room! You will be screened for darkness—"
I clap both hands over my ears, "You don't have to shout—"
"Move!" he just screeches louder, shoving us forward and through the doorway. I nearly fall from his push but catch myself just in time. Carpet? I look down, realizing that the cobblestone has transferred to threadbare, blue carpet. What is this place?
It looks like an old office that has been converted into some kind of makeshift courtroom. The walls are painted chipping, baby blue with white wainscot running halfway up the wall which lost its gloss about ten years ago. A collection of discarded desks have been arranged in a formattable U-shape in the center of the cramped room, leaving very little space for traffic—really only enough room for our single file line to pass through as the guards wave us forward.
At the tip of the other end of the 'U' kneels a bound and gagged prisoner. A black-clad man stands over him, his sword glinting savagely in his right hand—only inches from the cowering man's neck. I watch beads of sweat run down the captive's grimy face. My God, what are we witnessing here? My stomach bunches into a knot. This is the part of the movies where I crunch myself into a tiny ball on the sofa and clamp my eyes closed. This is like one of the parts I can never force myself to watch—
But there's no buffer here. No button to click it off.
This is real. And it's a man's life. And this is right in front of us. I realize with a sinking feeling that the bound man stands on a soiled part of the carpet. It's no longer blue. It's faded purple and red. It looks like it's been stained with...
My mouth is even dry thinking the thought...
Blood.
"Let this man be a warning and advisement to all of you! Our city is a darkness-free safe zone. The all-knowing code of The Game will judge your worthiness," proclaims the assassin at the head of the room, raising his sword, "If you are found infected by the meter and this court, your fate is instant death." He raises his weapon higher, shouting "We cut out the darkness!"
"We cut out the darkness!" echoes the room of guards, bowing their heads.
And the sword comes down with a swish.
And a scream rips at my eardrums.
And I can't not look. I can't ignore what is happening even though everything in me wants to slam my eyes closed. I can't. Because someone owes this man the dignity of watching his final breath.
Even as blood splatters.
And spills, flowing from the hacked slices of his flesh.
As he crumples.
But the swordsman doesn't stop.
Hacking.
Attacking.
Till the blob of the man is nothing more than a pile—a sickening pile of gore, blood and bones. It's a thousand times worse than seeing roadkill on the side of a street.
My body lurches—revolts. And I can't hold it down. I vomit. All over my shoes. All over the back of Joy's pants.
But she doesn't flinch. The warrior within her stands firm and tall. And my body can only shutter as the line begins to move forward. All while the only thought I can fathom is: Don't let me cough. Please don't let me cough black blood and give myself away.
...What is this test we have to pass?
I watch a guard step forward, grabbing the first person in line by the arm and forcing them to stand inside a red tape box on the floor.
The guards' fingers fly in the air bringing up code. A red line begins to scan their body. Blue numbers, lines and symbols load in the air—flashing like a progress bar as the scan finishes, coursing over the woman's worried face. Then—
Beep.
A yellow star appears, floating in the air.
***Subject Passed***
"She's clean," I hear one of the guards mumble. And they guide the relieved-looking woman out of the room, through a door on the far side.
I swallow.
Joy's next.
The guard tries to grab her to shove the pink-haired girl into the spot, but she turns on him like a viper.
"You touch me, you'll regret it," she hisses. And he falls back.
She steps forward to stand in the red tape box, her boot-falls heavy on the carpet. Even from here, I can see she's shaking. Her face is paler than normal but determined. She's probably not sure if any of the darkness still lingers in her, I realize with a jolt. But there's nothing I can do to help.
Not now.
The guard starts the test up; the code hums to life, a blue-tinted wall of numbers ticking and twitching in front of the pink-haired girl's face like a barrier I can't cross. I watch the red line reach her chest..
Her forehead...
I pray.
I can't help it, I pray.
Grand Dragon, if you can hear me, save us, save us both, I plead with everything in me.
Beep.
A star bobs into view as the electronic voice begins:
***Subject Passed***
Oh my God. I feel like I'm going to fall over from relief. I look up and lock eyes with the girl as she blinks back tears. She's okay. She'd been worried and she's okay.
"Next," a guard's hand yanks me forward as they tow Joy away.
It takes everything in me not to fight them.
This is okay.
It's going to be okay.
I situate my toes at the edge of the red line.
I take a deep breath.
And I watch the red line.
Starting at my toes...