SAVE POINT 87

Get Ready to Rumble...Loading Boss Fight...33%

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Rosabella

There's nothing I hate more than waiting. Goran used to preach how impatient I was whenever I'd start tapping my foot in line as we'd stand ready to check out at the grocery store or behind the counter at a fast-food restaurant. But waiting in a life-or-death situation is ten times worse than waiting for a hamburger to cook. At least, then, I could smell it—hear it, sizzling. Know it was coming.

Now—right now? I have no proof that Dormouse isn't dead. There's no indication that he's made any headway in the direction of our escape, not even any noise from town. It's unnerving.

I stare out at the tumultuous, navy waves lashing against this shoreline like they hate it as much as I do. The boats and docks bob crazily in the swirling water. There's crashing movement in my head and in the waves I watch, but none in the air. It hangs, stagnant and heavy...like the squeezing on my lungs.

Not the darkness again. I try to swallow a cough—try to steady my head. I'll need every ounce of strength I have for what's coming next.

Goosebumps crawl up my arms because...it's all silent.

It's all still.

Except...

I crouch low, my heartbeat slamming in my ears as I strain towards the bush behind me. I know what I heard. There's something coming through the bushes behind me, cracking the branches there—something big. My hand reaches for the dagger that's no longer on my belt; they'd taken all our weapons when they'd first knocked us out on this island. My eyes scan the sand beneath my boots. A big branch, long and strong like a staff, lies only a few feet away. I bite my lip, leaning towards it—

A low growl freezes me.

And I barely get time to react as black fur rushes towards my face—

> This is my stick. I found it first. I get dibs. This is how it works.

"Ahhh!" I scream, scurrying backwards, into the brush, kicking my feet out in front of me as my only weapon. But it turns out I don't need one because the beast is locked onto the stick. It's some sort of black leopard with enormous wings. It's huge paws pounce on the staff. It wraps its mouth around the wood, snarling like it's killing something, chewing over and over, slobbering...

Is the thing...harmless?

I squint at the beast, freezing in my knocked-over position and letting my hands lay still in the dirt and rocks.

"What the hell is that?" Joy spins, her pink hair flying behind her and her boots incredibly noisy as she stomps through the brush towards me, a rock hefted warily over her head as she judges whether or not she should bring it down on the huge cat's pointed ears—

"Wait!" I call, stopping her by raising a hand, "I—I think it's friendly."

As if to further my point, the creature squats on its glistening haunches, extending its neck to sniff inquisitively at my foot. Its silted nostrils constrict and expand as huge, yellow eyes study my face. The animal cocks its own to the side as though to understand me. Cautiously, it starts licking the sole of my boot.

> I am friendly.

It tells me, speaking again in my head.

> I like friends. I have one friend now. Do you want to be my friend too? Then, I'd have two.

"I've never seen this kid of beast in The Game," Joy observes, narrowing her eyes and taking a step forward as she lowers her rock, "It talks like a dragon—"

"Speaking of dragons..." Dormouse stumbles through the brush, surrounded by running, grubby-looking prisoners and five—oh my God—five enormous dragons rearing their heads out of the foliage: all different colors with scales flashing in the sun.

> Hello, Rosabella the Second.

Aria calls warmly, her massive, yellow head snaking out of the greenery.

I turn to look at the breathless, spindly boy in the flowing, green robe—Dormouse. "How did you—" I start, the words dribbling off my tongue, but the kid's eyes are preoccupied and dark.

"Thank me later, we have to get going," Dormouse quibbles, ducking his head, "Dragons, keep your heads low till we load up."

He's already helping people scramble up onto the beasts' backs.

But, I turn back, my eyes rake the island shoreline and the peaks of the huts crowding the opposite skyline. As horrid as this place has been to me, it's hard to leave; everything in me wants to pause for a second—to take just a second to contemplate what's happened, what's happening. I'm finally getting out of here. We did it. This place that's ensnared me for so long—that had me worrying literally for my own death as well as Joy's—we're leaving it behind. Finally. It'll be in the past—a distant memory as we leave its shores in the distance. For real. This is real. I did it. I saved the prisoners and dragons just like I'd told them.

So, what's stopping me now? What's clogging me up? Why am I not running towards the dragons—already on the back of one?

I don't think it's sunk in yet. I don't think freedom has fully sunk in...because I'm not sure I believe it. As much as I hate it, there's part of me that still doubts—

'Stop the doubting. Get on the damn dragon', I tell myself. 'You've alive. You're getting out of here. This is real', I tell myself.

....So, why is this so much harder than I thought?

I stumble towards Aria. My feet feel more than heavy while my head spins light. My eyes lock on the little, dark-haired girl being hoisted onto the yellow dragon's back by her mother; I remember her name is Sheela. I smile a little at that.

> You kept your promise.

Aria booms in my head—but, more, in my heart. Warmth floods there, filling me up.

I did. I did this.

"One foot near her elbow," instructs an old man prisoner, reaching a bony arm down for me to clasp, "Use it to step up."

I do. I hoist myself up onto Aria's wing—her scales cutting through the fabric of my body armor in places, but I don't care. I slide down her muscular shoulder, hooking my feet on either side of her neck like I remember Sparo had told me to do.

> Someone's ridden a dragon before.

The beast notes fondly.

I nod, but, for whatever reason, I don't want to speak. I just want to savor this moment—this moment right before freedom. ...Like a goodbye I'm not sure I'm ready to make even though I should be.

"Everyone ready?" Dormouse cries from the back of the winged black leopard.

Affirmative shouts come from one dragon over where a few prisoners straddle the maroon dragon.

I nod.

And Joy lets out a war cry as her turquoise dragon rears into the sky. And enormous wings flap like the swirl of wind turbines launching. And Aria shoves into the Heavens with a bone-jolting heave.

And, then, we're airborne.

Weightless.

Hovering.

As the boats disappear under us. And the expansive blue sweeps out like a carpet below.

I clutch at the yellow dragon's scales so fiercely that it hurts as wind whips past my face. I look over to see air yanking Dormouse's hair back from his scalp as the kid smiles into it but—

But the smile falters. His face falls and forms again—ridgid—as he points a taut hand into the clouds.

"Ahead!" He screams.

I can barely hear his cry because of the altitude, but I squint to where he's pointing.

And realize the horizon is painted black.

Bodies.

Black fur.

Spanning wings.

Creatures just like Dormouse is riding except—

Hundreds of them.

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Rushing right for us.

And, at their head, a mammoth, bronze dragon with a solitary rider—a green-haired girl with pigtails.

My stomach summersaults. My body heaves; I think I'm going to retch.

Because I know that dragon—I recognize it. It's the beast who carried Goran. And the blackness in the sky, I recognize it too. It looks exactly like the manifestation of every single thing that's ever been trying to stop my freedom—all coming at my face at once.

> Game Maker, your orders?

Aria's usually light voice sounds anything but—tense and pitching.

I try to catch my breath—

"We go through," Joy demands, pulling up beside us and screaming just to be heard as her pink hair streams behind her like a battle flag, "They're flying too low. If we go below, we'll hit the tops of mountains and wound the dragons once we hit land. If we go above, we'll lose each other in the fog and clouds—"

"What about going around?" I try, but the hope is as desperate as my weak voice sounds.

"Do you see an end to them?" Joy counters.

And she has a point. To my left or right there doesn't seem to be an end in sight.

"Stay away from the girl in front; she's psycho," Dormouse warns, yelling into the wind on my other side, "I have an idea. Everyone stay safe till I can get it rigged up."

Go through them, stay away from the giant dragon and crazy girl. Stay alive. Check.

"You got it?" I ask Aria beneath me.

And I feel the beast purr in agreement, nodding her spiked head.

"Hang on everyone," I warn Sheela, her mother and the old man prisoner behind me. We wrap arms around each other to increase our hold.

> Two hands.

Aria warns, her voice vibrating in our temples.

And her wings flap, and we race.

Straight into the cloud of black.

We hit it full speed.

Feathers.

Wings.

Strong, animal smell.

Shouts.

Bronze scales?

Enormous jaws snap past my face.

A scream. A little girl's scream?

Hands slip off my back. Wings beat near my face.

My blood runs cold.

And I grasp behind me for Sheela as the wind rushes past—

But only find the old man there.

"She took them," he mutters in my ear, his jowls wavering as Aria wobbles and dives.

"Who?" I scream.

"The dragon took the girl and her mother," he repeats raspily in my ear.

And I squint into the mayhem and see them, Sheela and her mother, dangling from the claws of the bronze beast who's now racing for the other end of the shoreline.

"Aria, down! Follow them!" I bellow. And I feel the beast twitch with shared irritation under me.

> Gladly. Let's teach these bullies a lesson.

And we plummet downwards.

Sickening speed.

Rushing wind.

I'm going to hurl—I'm going to be sick right here—

The world swims before me, but my eyes lock on the little girl's face as we zoom towards them. The child's sobbing, huge tears streaming down her face as the green-haired girl holds her captive by the arm. The bronze dragon holds her mother secure in its huge talons, a few feet away.

> That abominable beast!

Without my command, Aria dives. She crashes into the bronze dragon, her enormous jaws plunging into the creature's neck. The bronze dragon screams, rearing. The woman in her grasp shrieks too as she's lifted off the ground. I scream as I'm thrown from Aria's back—tumbling with the old man prisoner as we're hurled to the ground.

Dirt rushes to meet my face. Rocks scrape at my skin. Every muscle hurts—

"Uh, hello!"—a demanding, female voice yells.

I push my body upward, lifting my heavy, exhausted head in the direction of the voice. It's the girl. It's the green-haired girl who, now, holds a knife to the sobbing child's throat. The blade glints in the sunlight, making my breath catch. The villain looks directly at me.

"Do I have your attention? Mic on? Cool," she smiles.

Smiles.

What kind of sick psycho smiles when threatening a child?

My eyes weave upward, trying to find Dormouse or Joy in the humming rush of wings overhead, but it's impossible. Except, suddenly...

There's orbs of light—hundreds of them, bobbing. Darting. Glowing luminescent blue and zooming to the east. The horde of winged leopards in the sky bottoms out into a disarray, swerving after the lights. Chasing them like cats chasing a laser? And the sky clears as the beasts disappear, tripping and scurrying over each other in their haste. And Dormouse swoops down on his own beast, the biggest grin on his face. He'd said he had an idea... Wow...I have to try trusting the kid more often.

But his face tightens when he sees the situation. We might have gotten rid of the army, but we still have a knife to the throat of a very innocent child.

"Looks like your army didn't last long, whoever you are," Joy smirks, sliding off her dragon and landing easily on both feet with a thud as she addresses the green-haired girl.

But the twit looks barely phased at all by the pink-haired girl's comment. She just raises her eyebrows and presses the blade further, drawing a rivulet of blood.

"Hey—hey!" I bark, "Sheela, don't move. Everything's going to be okay." I tell her, but I can see the kid is on the verge of meltdown. Her lower lip trembles, threatening to boil over. I raise both my hands to show the green-pigtailed girl I'm unarmed as I take a hesitant, crunching step forward on the sandy shore. "Listen, just let her go. She's a child."

I watch my words flash across her dark pupils. She purses thin lips, deciding. Her arm around the child loosens with a snap as she shoves her forward, "You're right, even in a made-up game, that's pretty sick."

I let out a breath only to suck one in again as the girl loops nimbly around to grab the prisoner woman behind her, "Great idea, I'll kill her mother instead." She holds the point of the blade to the child's mother's neck now.

"Mommy, no!" Sheela lunges for her, but I grab her tiny limbs just in time.

"My baby!" the woman sobs, tears tracing down her face and into the front of her dirty rags, "My baby spoke! Mommy loves you, dear. Mommy loves you so much—"

"Your baby," the green-haired girl smirks, readjusting the knife closer to the woman's throat which chokes off her words, "is going to watch you die unless these people hand over their dragons."

> What do they want with us?

Aria asks in all our minds.

"Wrong answer," the green-haired girl pouts.

Slice.

Blood gushes over the knife blade, seeping into the woman's shirt.

As she gurgles—chokes on her own blood. Her eyes gloss over as she clutches at her throat and falls to her knees—

Dead.

I gape at the green-haired girl, trying to restrain the kicking and screaming little girl in my grasp. "What did you just do?!" I shriek.

The girl calmly cleans the blade of the knife with the hem of her shirt, carefully, wiping red off it. "It's what you just did, actually," she amends cheerfully, swiping a strand of green-hair out of her face.

"Listen, twit," Joy growls, charging towards her.

But the green-haired girl—who's significantly shorter than the other girl—wags a finger at her, clicking her tongue. "I don't think so. I get my dragons, or I cause more mayhem—"

"I'd like to see you try," Joy snarls, wrenching the other girl into a rear naked choke.

But the green-haired girl is laughing—grinning—even in the hold.

And black magic swirls behind her—huge pillars of it, climbing into the sky. And figures shape out of the black smoke—enormous hounds with jagged noses, teeth and bony figures. Long and lanky...with red eyes. And the things leap towards us, streaming around us and lengthening into black smoke as they circle.

Joy drops the green-haired girl, opting for a stick and slashing at the magi, but the black smoke dissipates around the wood without damage.

"How can we fight something we can't physically hit?" the pink-haired girl wonders.

And desperation claws at every inch of me. I try to summon my creator magic, but I can't focus! Can't think! What's wrong with me? Am I too weak? ...Too shocked?

The things laugh and howl, corralling Dormouse, Joy, Sheela and I closer till we're back to back.

Our dragons and Dormouse's leopard try to fight them off, but their teeth only meet with air, and they cower back from the weaving blackness like it's burned them.

"Stop trying to fight things you have no hope of winning against," the green-haired girl titters, "You can't win against me. I'll take your dragons now, thank you very much. Guess this one is a bonus." She kicks at Dormouse's pet which whimpers. Dormouse swears. And the green-haired girl snaps her fingers, locking the dragons from the Dragon's Sea Town in iron chains.

I try to move forward, against the swirling darkness encaging us—

I try to find my magic but—

But something is revolting, already, inside me.

"What do we do, Rosabella?!" Dormouse looks at me, his eyes frenzied with panic.

But I don't know.

I really don't know.

Pain stabs at my lungs. I cough violently, pitching forward and spilling black blood on my boots. But I have no root powder here. I swipe at my lips—swipe my lowering health bar out of my view:

But it comes back as it continues downward, pulsing:

How long do I have left? Minutes? Seconds? Till my final Game Over? This is how I die? Surrounded by smoke hounds? Bested by a pathetic excuse for a green-haired woman?

Maybe it's a good thing that I'll be out of my misery. Death certainly can't be worse than life...can it?

I clutch at my heart.

Joy leans into my face, "Rosabella?"

But I can barely see her outline anymore.

My vision beats red.

My health bar inches to the lowest it's ever been:

Is this what Callen felt like? ...Rainer?

Life draining—fuzzy.

World spinning.

And, then, there's black. Pitch black.

Beep.