Chapter 4: The World Behind the Curtain
— SCURA!
Falling into complete darkness, Mors couldn’t hear or feel anything except the strange air—sweeter and more alive than the air in the city or the dusty Shadow Theater. Within that darkness, a strange thought crossed his mind: “The real play had begun.” It wasn’t clear what that meant, but everyone knew that whatever they encountered wouldn’t be ordinary. None of this was ordinary.
As he wandered through the infinite black void, Mors’s eyes began to tingle in a way they had never done before. The tingling intensified as the sensation of that new air filled his lungs. Then, the fall stopped, and it became certain that the place he was now wasn’t the Shadow Theater anymore. Mors’s nostrils delighted in the vibrant scent of the air, but his eyes did not. Now, they ached in a disturbing way; something was happening—a great transformation. A dead pupil had just regained its life, and Mors’s once faded gaze was now replaced with a look as vivid as the air around him. His vision had returned.
A shock ran through Mors’s mind as he pressed his right hand against his face, rubbing his eyes so hard that he believed he could wake up from that dream. Mors screamed as the light pierced his pupils and made them burn. Even with his vision still blurry, he was forced to see the new world around him.
How could he describe that sensation? It was like giving imported chocolate to someone who had only ever eaten salt. It was as if his entire life had been spent under a blanket. And that was how he felt.
— My-my vision!? — he stammered, and, removing his hand from his eyes, he saw a new horizon.
A curtain of colors never before seen by his pupils, a place that was not just different for a blind person but for anyone in the world. There was nothing like it. He was in an open field, as green as no field he had ever seen before, with an orange sun casting a gradient over all the leaves. A place where life filled the air itself.
— Mors?! — Caius shouted from the horizon, running down what seemed to be a hill.
Still in shock, not a word could escape Mors’s lips as Caius grabbed him by the arm.
— Come here, come see this. — He said excitedly, then stopped, realizing that Mors wouldn’t have been able to see, at least not until now. — Sorry...
— No! — Mors shouted. — You’re wrong! — Caius looked stunned. — I can see, I-I... I can definitely see!
— What?! — Caius seemed shocked. — What do you mean?!
— I’m seeing, Caius! I see you, I see this landscape! Everything, everything! — he said joyfully.
— That’s... — Caius couldn’t find the right word. — Unbelievable. — He began to analyze the situation. — After all, Scura must not be tricking us if he can even restore your vision.
— Yeah, maybe not. — Mors blinked, looking at everything around him. — But either way, we’ve been dropped here with nothing.
— No, no! That’s what I wanted to show you — said Caius, gripping Mors by the shoulder. — We’re not exactly "with nothing."
Caius led Mors down a hill covered in flowers. At the bottom, all the other "actors" stood together. Tommy once again shrank back upon seeing Mors. Vincent seemed as intrigued by the environment as Amy, which made them exchange a few happy glances. Dáhlia remained quiet and thoughtful, while Rune smiled as she saw the two coming down the hill.
Reaching the flowery plain, Mors saw a massive iron chest, oddly placed in the ground. The size of the chest was about five square meters, with a giant lock that, instead of requiring a key, had seven handprints painted on it.
— So, Mors? What do you think? — Caius asked, curious.
— I don’t know, but judging by its location in this strange place, I’d guess it was sent by Scura. But I’m not sure; I didn’t see anything like this fall from that portal.
— Your vision came back? — Dáhlia asked, intrigued, and Mors nodded.
— Ah! I figured. — The strange comment came from Vincent, who, smiling, rolled up his sleeves and showed his tan arm. — I had a huge wound here that used to pain me every night when I slept on the streets, but look, it’s gone!
— So, it seems Scura really is magical — said Rune.
— Putting that aside — Mors resumed his thoughts about the chest, stepping closer. — I think we should all place our right hand on the lock.
— Right. — said Caius, placing his hand on one of the painted handprints. — Come on, it looks like it needs seven hands to open. If it’s even going to open at all.
The children positioned themselves to place their hands on the marks, except for Tommy, who refused to stand next to Mors, switching places with Dáhlia. Once everyone had placed their hands, the strange lock with painted handprints began to spin. Startled, the group backed away from the bizarre sight that Scura had prepared for them.
The lock stopped, the ground shook, and the chest opened, revealing strange clothing and gear that Mors had only heard of in medieval stories. There were weapons, shoulder pads, arrows, equipment, and strange black cloaks embroidered with the inscription “As long as this world allows us.” Even more bizarrely, there was an outfit perfectly sized for each child, with their name written on one of the sleeves.
— Is this some kind of uniform? — Rune asked, holding up the tailored outfit meant for her. — It looks like it fits me perfectly.
— Look at the weapons! — said Caius, with what seemed to be his first smile. — It looks like there’s a weapon for each of us.
Caius searched for his name engraved on one of them and, on a medium-sized spear with a blade larger than usual for a spear, he read: “For the star of sharp edges: Caius.”
Dáhlia didn’t have just one weapon but several. They seemed less medieval; they were all bombs: gas bombs, smoke bombs, hand grenades, dynamite, and a grenade launcher as big as her shoulder. For Vincent, there was a massive boomerang almost a meter and a half long, with a strange mechanism that, when a button in the middle was pressed, split into three, each with razor-sharp blades. Amy picked up two curved daggers and some throwing knives. Rune held two revolvers, and at her feet was a silver shotgun surrounded by plenty of ammunition. Tommy had a double-bladed axe, the size of a watermelon. Then Mors turned to the last remaining weapon: a sword, but not just any sword. It was unlike anything Mors had ever seen. It was almost as tall as he was, with a double-edged blade capable of cutting a car in half with a single strike. It also looked incredibly heavy, beyond what Mors could manage, even with the help of the others. Tempted to test it, Mors impatiently tried to grab its scabbard and move it. Incredibly, it moved effortlessly; it was impossibly much lighter than he had expected. It felt like holding a kitchen knife, not a greatsword almost as tall and twice as wide as him.
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— How?! — asked Caius, astonished. — That should weigh at least a hundred kilos!
— No, it feels... strangely light, — said Mors, swinging it through the air, creating a sharp whooshing sound.
— Let me try! — Caius dropped his spear and immediately tried to lift the sword. But as soon as his hands touched it, it crashed heavily to the ground. — This is definitely way too heavy! How are you moving it so easily?
— I have no idea; I just know I like it.
— Sorry to interrupt the fun, — Dáhlia said, feeling overwhelmed by it all. — But what do you think Scura wanted by sending us to this place with these weapons?
— Exactly what it looks like; he wants us to fight. But against what, I’m not sure, — Mors said, putting on the strange armor while reading the inscription on the blade of his sword: “For the star of now-living eyes: Mors.”
— Hey, guys! — Vincent called out, pointing to a distant area on the horizon of flower-filled fields. — Amy found what looks like a forest! Shouldn’t we check it out?
Mors, Caius, and Dáhlia exchanged glances.
— Maybe that’s where Scura wants us to go, — Mors said thoughtfully.
— What do you think he’s set up for us there? — Caius asked, spitting.
— I don’t know, but I’m sure it won’t be anything pleasant, — Mors adjusted his chainmail. — Just like he isn’t.
With all their equipment and clothes properly fitted, the seven young adventurers marched through many flower-covered hills until they saw the first tree of the forest Amy had found. Mors’s eyes filled with the magnificent view of the open fields, with bright yellow flowers reflecting the sunlight on the hills. But despite the breathtaking landscape, a dark thought lingered in their minds: fear, anxiety, and even the desire to have their wishes fulfilled. The play had begun, but they had no idea what awaited them, though Scura’s “gifts” gave them a clue.
Holding the weapons they had just received from the mysterious chest, seven youths marched toward the loss of their own innocence, where they would be transformed physically and mentally, perhaps never returning to who they once were.
Was a wish truly worth it? To face such dangers they would never encounter in the real world?
The answer, though seemingly obvious, hid many holes. These youths truly desired something, and that magical place, where they would otherwise never be, already seemed worth anything they might find ahead—or so they thought.
The hills now gave way to a plain, where a wide river crossed, dividing the forest from the rest of the fields. As they entered the strange woods ahead, one by one, Mors witnessed a landscape even richer, more beautiful, and perhaps more frightening than the fields they had left behind.
— I've never seen a forest like this! — Dáhlia exclaimed.
And she was right; the forest was indeed unusual. It had tall, twisted, and bent trees with long branches, and even though it was dense, the sunlight managed to filter through the leaves, creating a gradient on the ground. There were plants no one would find, no matter which book on flora and fauna they searched. The plants were full of colors, from strange ferns and rocks with tiny yellow tips to large glowing flowers the size of tires, and grass that blended light green and gray hues. Other plants were as colorful and bright as light bulbs.
— This is really beautiful — Amy said, pulling out a flower by its stem, but unintentionally, one of its thorns pricked her hand, causing immediate pain. — Ouch! It has thorns!
— Don’t touch anything — Mors ordered. — This forest is not ordinary, and we don’t know which plants are toxic or not. And we still need to find the goal for Scura to get us out of here.
— And what do you think that goal is? — Rune asked, confused.
— Well, Scura didn’t give us weapons to pick flowers — Mors nodded further into the forest. — Let’s move!
Deeper into the immense forest, the trees continued to grow, surrounded by even more strange and colorful plants. Then Caius spotted what seemed to be a structure.
— Come on! I think I see something!
And indeed, there was something odd. The density of the forest decreased significantly, revealing a kind of field on one side of the lake, and further ahead, what looked like broken and twisted columns, along with massive stones. They were standing at the ruins of what seemed to be a temple, forgotten for years in that colorful forest.
— It’s deserted — Vincent said, intrigued.
— It seems so — Caius replied.
— Do you think someone lived here?
— I think someone still does — Mors said. — Did you hear that?
Mors’ sharp ears picked up a faint sound of cracking stones.
— I didn’t hear anything — Caius responded.
— Neither did we — Dáhlia said, as the others nodded. — Are you sure you heard something?
The cracking of stones returned, this time louder, allowing the others to hear it.
— Did you hear it now?
— Yes.
— Where the hell is that noise coming from?! — Caius asked as the sound gradually grew louder.
— I think it’s coming from the pillars and the remains of the temple — Mors said, moving closer to listen.
— Want me to check it out? — Vincent asked, so curious he could barely stand still.
— I don’t think that will be necessary! — Mors said, stepping back.
The pillars began to crack, but not as if they were collapsing; they seemed to be gathering together. The ground shook, and debris covered in dirt flew with a will of its own to the center of the ancient structure.
A large stone rose from the ground where Vincent had been standing, causing him to fall, and then it joined the growing pile of rubble. The pillars shattered along with the rest of the temple's skeleton, forming a strange figure.
The youths could then see the silhouette of the creature before them, as the remnants of the rubble gathered to increase its size. It was a kind of giant, approximately seven meters tall and three meters long; it resembled a hunchbacked man, but was packed with muscles. Its hands were large enough to crush an entire man, its robust legs were made of marble remnants, and its face resembled that of a human, but without lips or a mouth—only two nostrils and blue eyes.
What caught Mors' attention were the eyes, which, unlike the rest of its body, were not made of stone but seemed to be human eyes, or at least quite similar to them. The strangest thing was that imprinted in its pool-blue eyes was an expression of fear.
So there they were, seven frightened children staring at an immense stone colossus with human eyes, and in its right hand, a sharp hammer.
Covered in fear, trembling, and with their hearts racing, the youths now understood what those weapons meant—or what that figure meant. They would have to fight to the death against a gigantic monster or else never return home, forgotten by their loved ones as if they had never existed.
Mors noticed that, like them, the Colossus remained motionless, merely staring at them, as if it did not want to attack or harm them. That expression in its eyes told Mors that it was just as troubled as they were.
— Don’t do anything foolish and don’t move a muscle, or... NO, TOMMY! — Mors shouted.
As Tommy, trembling and staggering, ran toward the stone figure, he swung his axe at the colossus's shin. The attack seemingly had no effect, but that gesture enraged the stone giant. With Tommy crouched down and overwhelmed by fear, waiting for the fatal blow, the colossus unleashed its first furious attack.