SAVE POINT 99
Loading A Crazy Idea...50%...99%
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Rosabella
'I think we all unintentionally create to fill that boredom.'
The memory of the Grand Dragon's words echo in my mind as I race up the stairs, taking two at a time. My hair whips back, over my shoulders, and I feel...breathless.
EmeraldCity just gave me the key, and she doesn't even understand it—boredom! That's what I'm fighting with uniting these people and mending The Game world! Not recklessness, not people who mean bad—the nerds and Gamers tempted to use black magic are...bored or probably just trying to have fun. There's no nefarious reason—no logic. It's harmless intent with terrible results—why haven't I thought of this? The Grand Dragon had known all along?!
Thoughts spin and race through my body, making me almost dizzy except—
Except now I know what I have to—
Ooof.
Solid chest.
Me, against.
"Rosabella?" Sparo looks down at me, apparently just as startled to have run into me—err, physically.
But my mind is preoccupied and flustered.
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Sparo
Rosabella.
You're in there somewhere, Rosabella, buried, it seems, behind eyes brimming with a strange fire I haven't seen reflecting back there before. And, no, unfortunately, it's not you throwing yourself at me in some crazy rage of lust—as I said, unfortunately.
But passion and velocity—direction—shine back at me there in your pupils, like I'm, somehow, in the line of fire. I'm just not all that convinced you wouldn't walk straight through me to get to wherever you're currently going. I grab you gently by the shoulders, shaking your small body just a little, "Hey, slow down, tiger—"
But It's obvious my joke falls on very deaf ears.
Your eyes dart up to mine, though—preoccupied as hell. Shit, what have you gotten into this time?
"Sparo, I get it!" you cry—excited? Breathless? Your face is flushed strawberry. "I get it now. I know what I have to do—"
"What you have to do is take a good ole gulp of air," I lecture you, still holding onto your bicep and not willing to let go yet, even though you're tugging like a Spring horse.
Grand Dragon, I wish I didn't have to sour your mood with this news. Honestly, I kind of want to just join you in this wild glee in your eyes—jump into it together, feet first, like cannonballing into a pond-scum-filled lake in the brilliant sun but— But, damn it, someone's gonna have to tell you sooner or later.
"Small one," I start, hating that my voice lowers to a trembling whisper, "There's news you should know. The nerds—" My voice cracks.
Grand Dragon, don't let me lose my nerve. I shake my head, wishing this was easier—wishing that I could wipe away the uncertainty now brimming in your wide, expectant eyes...fuck this.
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"There's more of them," I blurt finally, "There's reports of more Earth nerds flooding into The Game via several portals. It's trouble. There's hordes of them, instantly using black magic almost the second they're through. Earthquakes have started, more Darken. Gamers are getting anxious and territorial, ganging up in groups to attack the nerds who are bringing darkness on their Towns..."
My words dribble off because...well, I expected this news to darken your face—to crease it. But it doesn't. You blink back at me, your gaze still clear, just shining with determination against the dark backdrop of the long hallway.
"It's okay, Sparo," you tell me, "I get it now. I understand. I can't stop them from creating and causing the black magic, but I can stop the darkness—"
I snort. I don't mean to; the sound just wriggles out. Because I love you, but what you just said is an obvious contradiction—wait, did I just say 'I love you'? The realization hits like a dump truck. My hands and fingers tingle while my core feels unstable and light—like a feather could bowl me over. The carpet runner below my feet blurs and wobbles like the shadows in the hallway corners. With this new, distorted filter on my vision, that fake plant in the corner even looks real— Is this the feeling they write about in songs?
"Are you listening?!" you huff.
And that snaps me back.
Nothing snaps anyone back quicker than a disgruntled girl that you like...love? I am just a tangle of emotions right now...
"I—" I stutter, focusing on my hand which is still tight around your arm. I release my hold, taking a deep breath that feels like it might poison me. My head is so foggy—women. Y'all will kill us. "I honestly don't follow...at all." I add that last part 'cause I've gotta be real with you. Either you're ten paces ahead of me or lost somewhere in rose-colored-glasses-world, and I'm really hoping it's the first.
You grab my arms this time—both of them. Your face brims with eagerness. "I talked with EmeraldCity, and I see it now—"
"Hoo, hoo—wait, what now? You talked to that green-haired, loony toon?!" I choke out. I look behind you down the hall and realize we are directly outside of the holding cell area. In fact, you probably just came through that metal door on the right. It's metal for a reason! —What were you doing there?! Do I have to micromanage your ass to keep you safe every waking minute? I'm about to tirade a little—I feel the tension and frustration rushing up in my chest—when you, finally, spill:
"I'm going to give everyone creator magic"—your smile stretches wide as you shake me this time—"If everyone has creator magic, everyone can create without the darkness wrecking havoc—"
Oh shit.
This is worse than I thought.
You're going to let nerds and wack-jobs and joe-freaking-shmo create? Give them creator magic?! It feels like I don't even have a jaw it's so far on the floor.
"Hold up—just hold on a second. You really think it's a good idea to let everyone create whatever they want?!" I tirade. "There's a reason the Grand Dragon gave that power to only two people! Don't you remember the story!" My voice is too loud—if I was in dragon form, I'd be roaring.
Oh my Grand Dragon, you're going to kill us all—I was right about damn women—
My heart thunders in my chest.
If everyone has the same creator magic, you'll lose all control of The Game, Rosabella. There'll be no hierarchy. No structure. Everything will go to shit, and you're still standing here, speaking at me, attempting to sound logical—
"I know it sounds crazy"—you're doing that calming thing with your hands, but I am anything but calm—"but, what am I supposed to do otherwise? Run around trying to clean up all the darkness everyone's making? I'll just internalize it and get sick again. I almost died last time—actually I did die. What I'm proposing is an actual solution to the problem rather than just a patch."
Actual solution, my ass.
But, still, there's that frightening light in your eyes. And I don't know if I should be trying to put it out—it's just...this sounds...INSANE.
Distraction.
Buy some time.
These are things I've learned as a dragon. Let's utilize the shit out of them right now while I think this over—
"Why don't we get you back to your room and..." my voice sounds so dry and weak, "...and think about this—together, you know?" The tone pitches to a squeak. "We could do that, right? We could talk it over?" I'm nodding my head like a fudging bobblehead.
Please take the bait! I need to think this through. I need to understand—
"Okay," you breathe, nodding too, "We can talk it over."
Halle-fucking-lujah!
It's okay.
Everything's going to be okay.
We'll figure this out, I tell myself.
But my thudding heart says a different story. They say to listen to your heart, right? Well, what do I do when the organ is spasming fear and storm and the person who's my heart is spewing save-the-world plans that don't seem to add up???
Breathe.
All a dragon can do is breathe.