Chapter 8: Purpose
In the pitch black darkness, a line of individuals shifted through an enormous, elaborate cave system. They held hands in the darkness so as not to lose one another to the lightless, flooding place.
In the lead was a skinny boy with blonde hair and light brown eyes. Following him was an alluring woman with messy black hair. Her daughters were right behind her, taking small, but much more frequent steps as they all braved the seemingly eternal darkness.
The most frightening thing during their journey however was not the darkness, but the sounds and sensations that harassed them as they advanced through the cave.
They were not alone. In the early parts of their journey, many others went further into the caverns, searching for hope and safety.
As Cole and his group moved through the caverns, they could feel the water clutch at their ankles, before escaping it and moving towards higher ground, just for the water to catch up again.
However, while Cole knew where to go, the other slaves did not know the multiple paths that they could take to get to higher ground.
Everytime Cole and their group escaped the water’s clutches, the screams of those who couldn’t, would echo through the cave system.
Vivian would hold her daughter's hands even tighter when this happened, and unfortunately it happened quite a many times.
There was at one point the water level had reached to their chest level and the little girls had to be carried on Cole and Vivian's shoulders.
The water was not pleasant, as the miniature tides moved them like kites in a storm.
But at least in a storm they could see.
Instead, they were pushed around by the flooding water in pure darkness, where echoing screams frequently decorated their surroundings.
Cole and Vivian did their best to keep calm in this situation, holding each other's hands even more tightly. If they did not, the little girls on their shoulders, and their own lives, would be washed away.
As Cole and Vivian trekked through the chest level murky water, sometimes a limp body would collide with their legs, leading to them almost tripping and being submerged.
The greatest obstacle was not the limp bodies however, but the bodies that clung on to life. And that they did as Cole and Vivian would often feel a hand grasp on to their feet and legs.
Vivian would panic, and start frantically kicking the miserable wretch beneath her. The only thing that kept her from a full blown panic episode was her eleven year old daughter on top of her shoulders.
Cole would face the same problem, but he was not as…feisty as Vivian. Whenever a hand clung on to his foot or leg he would instead freeze in fear, until the water washed them away or Vivian would start kicking the person to advance them along.
After all, she was not planning on becoming one of them, nor did she want her daughters to be the same.
After the ordeal, they had spent an uncomfortably long time in silence.
The screams at least disappeared but the sound of water rising and flowing did not.
Wading through the cave, they did not know if it was an hour that passed or ten hours. This timeless and lightless place felt like one of the punishments in hell…
…Or perhaps it was the same sensation of death, but without peace.
Suddenly, the water that was rising from their feet also started to flow from the holes in the ceiling. This frightened them to no small amount as they rushed even faster to elevated ground.
Cole had almost forgotten the path as well, reaching several dead ends and placing deep anxiety in all their hearts.
The water level rose and rose, reaching to their necks.
The little girls who jumped back on to their shoulders once more, entertained thoughts of jumping off to unburden their guardians. Though the only result would be death for themselves.
Light rain started to fall on their faces as they wondered if this was how they would die.
Fortunately, it was not hell or death they were in, but the trials and tribulations of life. All things would come to an end, and this ordeal was the same. The light of hope finally shone upon them at last as the water level steadily dropped, and they could see multiple openings above them, leading them to be free of the hellish caves.
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They emerged from the torturous stone prison, breathing a sigh of relief that they indeed had survived. The immense joy they had could not be washed away by the rain.
Looking up at the sky they noticed it was nothing but clouds and oceans of water, but it was much better than the darkness.
They looked around their surroundings to notice they were on a crater of one of the tallest iron peaks, and they were not alone. The band of youths had somehow found their way here and so did an unassuming bald man.
The bowl-like natural structure guarded them from the intense winds while the multiple openings below them would ensure that the rain fell down instead of accumulating up.
There was however, an opening to the east of the bowl-like crater that seemed to blow an intense wind towards them once in a while that threw them off balance.
Through that opening, they saw another group of slaves that found themselves on an iron peak below them. It was Jole and his followers, and… they seemed to be captivated by something.
The group of friends on the higher peak looked towards what the other group were looking at…and what they saw was harrowing.
…
On a much lower peak than Cole’s group, tens of thousands of slaves emerged from the red mountains as waves of death pulled them to its embrace.
The slaves from each section hiding in their own cave pass discovered that the flooding was not stopping— it was relentless. They ran out in haste, then in panic, then in mass hysteria.
The frenzied slaves sprinted towards higher and higher ground but the water was incessant. Rain bombarded them while the waves bashed them into submission of their fate.
But what were humans if they did not struggle against fate? They fought against the winds that threatened to rip them apart and the water that god served to drown them.
From the red mountains emerged a hundred thousand slaves, followed by the emerging tide of doom.
Forward! Higher and higher!
The slave masters looked at the scene in fright. Their towers were the only beacon of hope that the slaves could place themselves in. Their population numbered ten thousand, and that was including the nobles, important merchants/traders and the workers essential to the upkeep of the towers.
“BAR THE DOORS!!!”
Nel and the slaves following him were also running, at this point Nel could not control the mad crowd any more and he too was running at full speed towards the towers.
There was nothing on his mind, nothing in the slave's minds, but survival. The apocalyptic scene and mass hysteria replaced any logical processing that they once had.
BOOM!
The slaves crashed into the towers, shaking them from their stone foundation.
“PLEASE! LET US IN! OPEN THE DOOR!!!”
“I am Nel Bluelight! A noble and a slavemaster! I know you have space for at least some of us! Please open the door!”
The slaves hammered into the humongous stone towers, punching and smashing the stone doors, but there was no audible answer.
However, there was a reply.
Arrows and crossbow bolts fell just as heavy and numerous as the rain. In one volley, thousands died from their necks and heads pierced by metal while those that survived had to face both the pain of pierced meat and choking water in their lungs.
CRASH!
A wave of water lashed the slaves on the tower, flying many into the air as the rain became an actual ocean on the iron canyon.
The slaves tried to make ladders out of themselves again but the crashing tide once again erased that effort.
BOOM!
The water level had reached the first floor of the towers, many were washed away but many others held on to the tower. Their bleeding hands and arms stuck between the gaps of the large stone bricks, yet before they could reach the top or break into a window, a crossbow bolt pierced through their hands, necks and heads.
The two groups on the higher iron peaks watched this scene, shivers running through their body as they watched tens of thousands die by tide or crossbow bolt.
The waves rose as the nightmare ensued.
…
Zan stood at the end of the tunnel, again, a large black metallic door stood in his way. It threatened him once more to heed its warning and turn back, but Zan knew no fear— or he was just careless.
‘This shit again?’
The bandaged boy proceeded with the same process.
“HNG!”
BOOM!
“RAH!”
THUD!
‘Heh. Easy.’
Said the boy who broke a sweat.
Zan hopped along once again to the door, he placed his hand onto the cold handle yet suddenly, his eyes went gaping wide.
A burst of pure trepidation flowed through his whole body, putting him into a cold sweat. Whatever was inside activated his senses and his inhuman instinct.
The gut feeling, that divine intuition, had saved his life numerous times, and this might be one of those times right now.
Zan hesitated. The last time he did not heed such a warning he almost became cannibal food. The time before that, he stumbled upon a ten foot mountain lion and only got away by jumping off of a cliff into a river.
The boy…let go of the handle. That sense of dread he felt was too intense, he had never felt such fear ever before.
It colored his world into black and white, and then baleful red. It challenged his goalless ambition and somehow won.
In nervous anxiousness, the boy stepped away from the door.
As he prepared to turn back however, at the last second something touched his back.
An unimaginable sensation. He felt as if a small hand, made out of light and warmth itself, pressed itself against the center of his back, pushing him forward.
Surprisingly, it did not hurt. The muscle torn back did not punish him with agony and pain like it did before— like it did before with just the slightest touch.
Instead, he felt a whole hand press his back, yet it was painless.
And from where the hand touched, a warm yet cooling feeling spread from the center of his back, outwards toward his whole body.
Zan turned his head, glancing behind him to see nothing.
He glanced at his back, to see nothing.
‘Wait…’
Zan thought for a moment that he saw a wisp of light fade away from the center of his back. It was ethereal and ephemeral and perhaps never existed.
Perhaps he imagined it— his brain, did take quite a hit from recent events…
But one thing he couldn't imagine however, was what he was currently feeling.
That overwhelming sense of fear and trepidation was gone.
Replacing it, was a profound feeling of calm. He had shrunk from fear earlier, yet now he felt…bigger.
He had shrunk from fear earlier, but now he felt something from within expanding beyond his body.
Where earlier he felt small, yet now he felt…vast
No…now he felt…boundless.
He looked towards the door again— yet not at the door but what was within it.
It still felt eerie and sinister, yet he did not feel afraid, not anymore.
Purpose. It was a sense of purpose moving his body towards the door. The previously fear filled eyes now shimmered with calm but powerful, glowing intent.
He stood with two feet on the ground, no longer hopping.
Calmly, steadily, confident yet humble, he walked to the door and swung it open.
Step…step…step.
Footsteps echoed as he made his last voyage into the dark.