Let us turn back the hands of time, back to when Peter was still being transported to the underground dungeon.
The rocking carriage on the cobblestone road kept on rolling, unaware of any inconvenience that it might bring to the people inside. But then again, there was only a single person inside this carriage, and that person wasn’t even unconscious, let alone utter a sound. And even if he could still keep himself awake, he couldn’t utter a word.
After all, there was an iron mouthguard stuck to his face, his hands were tied in a straitjacket, and a steel chain and spike ball weighed down his legs. Even with his wounds temporarily bandaged by the medics, the boy was still oozing out blood in the gaping holes littered throughout his body. Thankfully, either due to confusion or a certain princess’s influence, they’d forgotten to confiscate the cross still dangling on his neck, and so there was still a chance that the boy could make use of his mysterious partner’s power to get himself healed, provided that their connection was still intact.
Meanwhile, the carriage containing him, after traveling the distant sea, made its way underground after reaching capital soil. The stench of animal waste filled the air, while on top, garbage water started to ever so slightly drip down. The foul odor caused all the knights and medics on the carriage to hold their breaths in disgust, and even the unconscious boy lightly frowned at the sudden invasion of foreign smell.
The more they traveled down, the narrower the path became. As such, controlling the carriage around soon became impossible. With a click of the tongue in annoyance, the knight in control got down from his horse and announced to the rest of the crew:
“This is as far as the horse can go. I’ll take the carriage back, so someone please carry the prisoner to his cell.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we just off the kid right now?” Complained one of the accompanying knights. “It’s just one prisoner. No one cares if the number goes down or up.”
The “suggestion”, however, would soon be faced with backlash from the medics. “And how would you explain to Her Highness, then? She asked to treat him, she’s not going to just leave him rotten in this place!”
“Then you carry him!” Waiting just for this moment, the knights all let out a sly grin. It was their intention all along to trick the medics into doing their work. Using the Princess as a shield, they were sure that no one would be risking their lives just to get out of some physical labor, and their gamble paid off.
In the end, save for the rider who went back to the surface, Peter was being carried by the very medic crew that treated his wounds. However, the boy, despite his young age of fourteen, was still heavier than what they could handle, so he had to be placed on a stretcher and continued.
The crew stopped before a prison cell near the end of the path. Through the flickering light of the barely lit torches, one could only see puddles lying around while the same sewage water as before dripped down from above, and an empty wooden bowl whitened by molds quietly sat in a corner. Other than that, there was nothing else – not even a pile of hay to make a semi-decent place to sleep.
The medics only shook their heads and let out a sigh of pity, before carefully placing the stretcher containing the unconscious boy on the floor.
“Well, here it is,” one of them muttered. “Make yourself at home, kid. Hopefully, this will not be your last place to stay.”
“Stop wasting your breaths and get out,” the knights clicked their tongues in annoyance. “You’re not staying in this stinking place anyway.”
The medics grinned. “Oh, yeah. You’re manning the dungeon as well, right? Well, don’t die sniffing this air too much.”
As their shadows disappeared from the premises, the knights sighed. They were tasked as guards for the dungeon – a structure that hadn’t been used in a long time, which explained its run-down state – and had to remain there for who-knew-how-long because of a single boy. If they could, every single one of them would be glad to gut the boy with their spear right this instance, but their own heads would be in jeopardy if that was the case. And so, with only a sigh, they sat back down to their positions, waiting for the boy to wake up to vent their anger on them.
The boy, meanwhile, was still unconscious. His mind, strangely enough, was working.
It was something akin to a dream, but the boy was “looking” at a pitch-black darkness. Echoing from all sides was a familiar voice.
[It’s best for you to give up.]
“Is that you, whoever helped me from before?” The boy called out towards the darkness.
[It is indeed I.]
“Can you heal me now? My body is still very wounded.”
[I told you before, didn't I? That was just a preview of what you would be capable of.]
“But why not?”
[I could, but why would I? After all, we’re not even partners yet.]
“Partners?”
[Partners, yes.]
“Then what should I do now?”
[Depends on your choice, of course.] The voice snickered. [You can choose to do nothing and pray that the medics’ primitive treatment is good enough for you. Oh, and by the way, if it’s not clear enough, you’re in prison right now, and prison food isn’t the nicest thing to have. Tastes like bran, if you ask me, and certainly not nutritious enough for a speedy recovery… provided that you don’t get executed in the first place, that is.]
“You sound like you knew the place.” The boy couldn’t help but let out a smirk at the abyss in front of him.
[Of course I do. I built it after all.]
“Really?”
[With Arthur and the original Knights of the Round, yes. And for your information, they were miles better than what the lackeys you fought were.]
Clenching his fists in frustration, the boy sulked. “Is that so...”
[Still mad that they beat you up, I assume?]
“Who wouldn’t? Just look at me. Could use some of that regeneration from before.”
[There are a lot of holes, that’s for sure.] The voice chuckled. [But I take it that you’re ready for whatever it takes?]
Of course, there was never a choice from the start. Aside from the occasional poking fun at Peter, the mysterious voice had been telling the truth. Without proper treatment, the boy’s life was a mere candle in the wind, and even if he miraculously survived, he wouldn’t escape the punishment that awaited him, now that he was already trapped in the dungeon.
Naturally, the boy had also realized it – he wasn’t a complete idiot. “What other choice do I have?” Giving a light chuckle, he said bitterly.
[None, but it’s not a matter of choice; it’s a matter of trust. Of course, I could heal you, then ask for your cooperation again. Or I could outright tell you to accept my proposal if you want my healing. But none of those options would prove to be amiable to us.]
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“And so you want me to willingly accept first, then follow up with whatever you want.” With a sigh, the boy nodded. “Can’t say I’m surprised, but fine. You’re the one with initiative in this case.”
[Good. Now, picture yourself closing your eyes and holding out your hand in front of your neck, where the cross is.]
The boy, in his hazy mind, followed the instructions. Soon enough, his chest burned wildly, and all of his arrow wounds sizzled as if struck by lightning. However, amidst the pain was still that soothing sensation of being cured as his flesh was being refilled and his skin was steadily growing back. With it came an incredible itch spreading throughout, causing the boy to unconsciously grit his teeth and squirm around
As the boy opened his eyes once more, he was greeted by a verdant light, his body lying down in a wild, bushy forest teeming with life.
“Where… am I?” The boy muttered in shock, but still took his time to inhale a deep breath to enjoy the fresh air that he finally had the chance to savor again.
“Enjoying the view, I assume?” The voice, now clearer than ever before, sounded.
“Where are you?”
“Keep going along the trail and you’ll see.”
True to the voice’s claim, in front of Peter was a neatly laid out pathway, as if inviting him to travel. The boy followed suit, feeling his body being healed with each step he took.
At the end of his journey, Peter was greeted by a beautiful meadow, with brilliant green grass overflowing with life on one side and a clear, serene lake on the other. In the middle of the lake, a humongous tower stood tall, higher than any other old watchtower on the town’s border that he had managed to see. But it wasn’t all good news this marvelous scenery brought – thanks to the lake and tower, the boy could clearly see the horizon afar, and…
Nothing else.
As if the ground had just decided to not exist anymore, on the far end of the lake was an empty void, a similar endless abyss that he had just seen and conversed with. It was at this moment that he realized, this was no longer the real world that he was in.
Before he had the chance to process, however, the lake started to viciously bubble, and with steam rising from the surface, it was as if something in the bottom was boiling up all of the water.
Soon enough, the owner of the voice that had accompanied him all this time finally rose.
From its rugged brown fur, its large body as it stood on two feet on top of the water, its mouth filled with fangs, its rather short snout, as well as its round ears, the creature coming out was, no doubt, a bear. However, no other bear the boy had seen in picture books could walk on water or have fireballs as their eyes, and no fire he knew could burn so strong after emerging from underwater. And, as the final straw that broke the camel’s back, the bear spoke:
“We finally meet, my partner.”
Peter, however, was having none of that. The boy immediately took a step back, grabbed a rock by the lakeside, and raised it over his head preparing for a throw, his legs seemingly ready to high tail out of the scene at any moment’s notice.
Faced with the situation, the bear couldn’t hold in and laughed the most hearty laugh it had ever made, rocking even the trees nearby:
“Right, right! I forgot you people are scared of this appearance! It’s been such a long time after all…”
Wiping away its tears of laughter with its claw, the bear then clapped its two front paws. A whirlwind of beautiful pink flowers circled its body and soon engulfed the creature within its petal storm. When the wind finally dissipated, creating a lovely scene of fluttering flowers, the bear was no longer there. Instead, a tall, handsome man in his twenties, with hair as white as fresh snow emerged. Though his face might prove to attract any girls that may come across him, the fuzzy bear hide he wore like a cape was anything but a lady-killer.
Waving his hand, the man commanded another gust of petals around his arm. When the wind stopped once more, in his hand already appeared a giant wooden staff, with its top curled akin to tree roots.
As Peter was still agape in utter shock, the man had already tapped on the boy’s shoulder with his oversized staff. Soon enough, Peter’s body felt a refreshing sensation coursing through, ridding every single one of his wounds from his system.
“I assume this form is easier for us to talk to, right?” The man chuckled.
“... Yes, very,” nodded Peter.
“Glad to hear it. Now, I believe an introduction is in order,” with a light smile, the man continued. “I am Balam, the Demon that governs the earth, and the one that resides inside the cross you wear. This world that you’re seeing right now is a magical space made by the cross and my own influence. It’s not on your neck right now because it’s quite literally around you – the air you breathe, the ground you step on, the grass you rustle, you name it.”
“... Incredible,” the boy exclaimed. “Is this one of those magical items I’ve heard so much about in textiles of old?”
His question, however, fell on deaf ears as the man, now Balam, widened his eyes in surprise. “You’re… not startled? Surprised? Shocked? Scared? Anything?”
“Why should I?”
“I just said that I’m a Demon.”
“Oh, that,” shrugged the boy. “It’s not like I’m in a particularly friendly term with the angels, so why should I be scared of a demon? Also, aren’t you guys supposed to be extinct anyway?”
Demons – a race filled with the evil desires of mankind. Once, they fed on humanity’s greed and were considered God’s greatest adversaries, but after the great purge, they had been driven out of existence thanks to the effort made by His angels. That was the tale that was passed down to humans of the current generation, and Peter, though mostly uninterested in the ridiculous “teachings” that he was subjected to, was no stranger to it.
“Ah, yes, that,” nodded Balam. “Well, it’s not entirely wrong anyway. There are only six of us left from the original seventy-two, but that’s not important right now.”
Balam then waved his staff around. Roots crawled on the ground with his command, like a pack of snakes going for their prey. They soon coiled around one another and divided themselves into two halves: one half moved in a circular motion, while the other tied themselves into a solid pillar. In mere seconds, there was already a table made of tree roots, and two stumps appeared from nowhere to act as seats for the pair.
The demon sat down with ease, then gestured towards the shocked boy:
“Please, help yourself.”
Reluctantly, Peter took his seat as well. Immediately, another branch grew out of nowhere, on its end was a kettle and a cup of already poured, warm tea. As the boy turned his bewildered look to Balam, the demon merely gestured forward, telling him to feel free to take a drink.
The boy slightly bowed to thank the… branch, then took a sip of tea. As his lips touched the herbal liquid, all worries disappeared from his head as his body felt light as a feather, as if being caressed with a soft, fluffy cloud. Only after seeing the boy relax himself did Balam let out a satisfied smile and grab the cup on his end of the table.
“Now, that’s all for me,” the demon continued. “What about you? What’s your name, my soon-to-be partner in crime?”
“Peter. Peter Pendragon.” The boy answered.
“Peter…” Balam’s lips curled into a wry smile. “So, the time has finally come…”
“Time? What time?”
“The time for our wishes to be fulfilled, that is.”
“Fulfilled?” Seeing the conversation slipping away from him by the second, Peter uttered.
“... Let’s put it this way then,” the demon answered with another question. “Do you remember the first vision you saw when you touched the cross?”
“I do. But what does that…”
“Do you know why that central figure looked like you?”
“Is it because… that’s me in the future?” The boy took a hopeful guess, but was only met with an amused shake of the head from the demon.
“That was a vision in the past,” continued Balam. “It was a story of a great King, the true ruler of Britain, and his final battle against the Angels… King Arthur Pendragon.”
“Arthur… Pendragon…” Two simple words, but with only a mention of them, something clicked within Peter. Everything suddenly fitted so well. About how his family was taken away. How the first Princess of England suddenly appeared on the isles with her servant, a squire of the Round. How he was their first, and only, friend there.
“... It’s not true.” Clenching his fist in anger, Peter seethed.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean. If I was royal, then what are they? What are my friends?”
“Friends?” The Demon asked in confusion, before realizing the meaning behind the boy’s words. “Oh, you meant the Princess and the squire. I’m sure you know that on your own by now.”
“... It’s not true.”
“Not true? But you’ve seen everything. The vision. The way those royals treat you. Surely…”
“I refuse to believe it!” Peter shouted, standing up from his seat. “Even back then, they were the only ones that fought for my life! They were the only ones that would stand by my side! They didn’t betray me! They can’t!”
The Demon stared at the flustered boy for a minute, as if trying to find suitable words to say. But in the end, he only let out a sigh of defeat:
“There’s no use arguing with each other like this. If you want to, then wouldn’t asking them directly be the best option?”
“... Of course, but…”
“Right now, we’re conversing in this cross’s world, but in reality, you’re unconscious in their dungeon, and soon I can only imagine you’ll be put on trial. You’ll have plenty of time to talk in the meantime… Of course, if your real body can handle the wounds, that is.”
The demon’s words brought the boy back to the predicament he was in.
“Well, I said I was going to accept your offer, right? Can’t you just heal me back now?”
The question only put a smirk on Balam’s face. “You don’t even look like you’re willing to follow me.”
“That is…”
Before Peter could answer, Balam had already sent another wave of his oversized staff away. From thin air, a leather scroll appeared, and the demon soon turned it towards the boy:
“Consider this a contract of sorts: if you can pass this trial of mine, then I’ll continue to lend my power until you’ve found your friends’ answer. After that, you can decide on your own. How does that sound?”
“... Deal. When can we start?”
As if waiting for it, the demon let out a wry smile.
“Right now, of course.”