The sun blazed. The wagon baked. Zane felt like a trapped chicken in an oven. Every bump twisted his insides. He clutched his stomach, glaring out at the relentless sky. Sweat. Shaking. Nothing but sweat and shaking.
Dreams? Burned up. Hopes? Shattered.
All that was left was dust. Dust on everything. Dust in his mouth. Dust that made the world look as hopeless as he felt.
They had traded cheers and palace halls for creaky wheels on a road designed by someone who hated roads. Each mile was worse than the last.
Darius, of course, looked just fine. He sat straight, eyes forward. His voice cut through the noise like a knife. “Exile changes nothing. This village will be our base. From here, we plan our attack.”
“Attack?!” Zane held his stomach as the wagon swayed like a drunken goose. “We almost got executed for littering. LITTERING, Darius! And now you want to plan an attack from a village where soap is probably considered a magic relic?”
Lyra sat on top of a crate like it was her throne. “Ooh, ooh! Let’s dig secret tunnels! And a trapdoor straight to the king’s bathtub! Imagine it… He’s brushing his teeth, totally unsuspecting… and bam!” She slammed her fist into her palm, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Zane groaned. “This is how every bad story starts. We’re gonna be betrayed, thrown in a dungeon, eating gruel until we die.”
“Excellent,” Darius said, missing the point completely. “Gruel is high in fiber. It keeps the mind sharp and the body ready.” He paused, actually considering it. “We should add it to our diet.”
Lyra’s eyes lit up even more. “Yeah! And we could make a super mold from it! Gruel experiments! We’ll be unstoppable!”
Zane looked up at the sky for mercy. There was none. Just that cruel sun, blazing away.
The wagon groaned, making a screeching noise like a dragon with something stuck in its throat. Then it stopped. Dead in the road.
Lyra almost fell off her crate. But she caught herself, laughing like it was all part of the fun.
Zane was not as lucky. He smacked against the wall of the wagon and yelped, rubbing his shoulder.
The driver didn’t even care. He pointed back. “End of the line, folks. Welcome to... well, see for yourselves.”
Zane climbed down. Half dread. Half surrender. The sight before him? A mess.
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Crumbling walls leaned at awkward angles. Roofs sagged under the weight of too many holes. And the air smelled like smoke and decay.
“Gods above,” Darius said, looking around. “The reports said it was rustic. But this is just... collapsing.”
Zane kicked a rock. “The air tastes like regret. And cheap cologne. Who’s even wearing that out here?”
Even Lyra seemed lost. She tapped her chin. “Hmm... needs work. Lots of work. And maybe, like, five or six explosions.”
They walked into the village.
Kids stopped playing to stare. Eyes wide with fear and curiosity. Doors cracked open just enough for people to peek out. Whispers floated like ghosts.
Then, from a hut that looked like it could fall over if someone sneezed, an old woman walked out. Her face had deep lines from years of hard times. But her eyes were warm.
She walked up to Zane, holding out a chipped wooden cup. “Welcome, travelers, to the village of Drudgery.”
Zane took the cup. “Uh... thanks?” He looked inside. Water. Actual water.
A boy crept up behind the old woman, holding a bruised apple. He handed it to Lyra, eyes wide.
“Why, thank you, kind sir!” Lyra took a huge bite. “Mmm. Could use cinnamon. But it has potential.” She ruffled the boy’s hair, and he smiled shyly.
Villagers came closer, curiosity winning over fear. Zane could feel their stares.
“You must be tired,” the old woman said, pointing to a nearby hut. The roof was sagging. Badly. “You could rest in—”
CRACK!
The hut collapsed. Dust flew everywhere. Wood scattered.
Zane blinked, horrified. “Great. Not only are we exiles, but now we’re homeless exiles. Just what I always wanted.”
Lyra patted his back. “Look on the bright side! Open concept, lots of fresh air!”
Darius nodded, as if Lyra had made a good point. “Yes, a campsite will work. Fewer chances for things to collapse.”
The old woman chuckled. “Gravity is tricky here. Best to keep things simple.” She looked at each of them, her gaze lingering.
Zane threw his hands up. “Wonderful! What other joys are waiting for us in this lovely place?”
Darius ignored him, scanning the village. He pointed to a patch of dirt. “That will be our base.”
Lyra dug through her bag. “I love camping! So many creative possibilities!” She pulled out a colorful blanket, holding it up like it was some rare treasure. “I even brought ambiance!”
“Ambiance?!” Zane couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We’re surrounded by nothing. No one cares about ambiance here!”
Lyra draped the blanket over a pole. It fell over. “We’re starting a revolution. Presentation is everything!”
Hours later, with the sky turning orange, their three tents were up. Sort of…
One leaned like it was about to fall over. Another flapped like a wounded bird. And the third was more of a pile of fabric.
Darius inspected them. “Functional. It will do.”
Zane rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, if ‘functional’ means ‘barely standing.’”
The old woman watched them with a smile. “You bring a certain energy to our humble village. It’s been a while since we’ve seen such... creativity.”
Lyra spun, grinning. “We aim to please, Granny! And by please, I mean chaos!”
Granny’s smile faded. “Chaos, dear? You’ve come to the right place. Drudgery has had plenty of that.”
Lyra’s grin faltered. “Uh, okay, that’s... kinda spooky. What do you mean?”
Granny’s eyes turned sad. “We are the forgotten ones. Left to fend for ourselves while MagicBeasts roam just beyond our borders.”
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Chapter 5 Video/Audio version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5CotmTuLcg