Derrick didn’t stop running – not even for a second. All of his senses were rendered useless in the eternal darkness except his ears, which helped him navigate through the vast land as he raced at full speed to get away from the pursuing creatures.

He ran for a long time; it felt like an eternity had passed before he finally slowed down. The fahltyrs chased relentlessly, never tiring or slowing down as he hoped. Their piercing screams were chilling to the bone, and their fumbling hands were trying to seize him from behind.

Their sinister screams, however, soon let up and were drowned out by the wailing wind that mercilessly struck his face. This happened so suddenly that he didn’t even notice the silence at first – not until immense shadows surrounded him and he was bound to slow down.

He lost sight of what lay ahead and peered over his shoulder to see what lurked behind him in the shadows.

His heart pounded hard against his chest all the while, unable to calm down as he followed every movement in the dark. He must have taken a few steps after that, unbeknownst to himself, because he definitely nudged something sharp and pointy with his outstretched, fumbling hands while feeling his way around.

Much to his surprise, he came across nothing but a thorny bush that was as huge as everything else in this vast land. The bush had these thistle-like flowers growing on its leafless branches in all kinds of melancholy colours that shone as brightly as the moss he had long since run past.

The branches appeared tangled and unnatural as if intentionally placed in such a way. It was also right next to a fork, or so it looked, but the entangled branches hid whatever lay beyond it.

Derrick stretched out his hands towards the mystical flowers, bewitched by their beauty and delicacy, and moved only a few inches when the thorns found their way to his fingers and pierced his skin.

A single drop of blood fell onto the hard, cool ground made of dark stones, and he jerked back and watched as the thorns came alive and moved in his direction like they were a single entity.

The bush had withered thousands of years ago, without a doubt, he could tell that much because it had neither foliage nor fruits. Yet it was the most alive thing he had seen besides the fahltyrs themselves.

Regrettably, the eccentric sight did not last for long. The ominous thorns twisted inwards and towards something beyond the huge bush. His heart skipped a beat. Behind the twisting bush, an off-the-wall din came through… and it was not the fahltyrs this time.

No, it was something entirely different. He took a few steps back before peering through a small gap in the dense, leafless bush, only to stare at the leg of something massive – something so bulky and fat that a single kick would turn him to bits.

He followed the bushy leg to the pervasive night sky and ogled a bald giant whose head nearly penetrated the grey clouds.

Shocked, he stumbled away out of fear, losing his balance along the way so that he landed on his buttocks. There were, in fact, two of them, not just one giant creature. But he was surprised for a different reason.

He saw an old man between the two giants; they were soundlessly watching a dozen fahltyrs gobble up one boy from his row, who had miraculously made it this far despite all odds. But he failed to see the old man’s face.

All he saw was his grey beard, which reached down to his neck, and his frail body, which was stooped over to the point where a large bump appeared between his shoulder blades. He got back up again.

The old man and the giants didn’t move even for a mere second. The gruesome sight didn’t bother any of them. They simply stood there in silence, much like parents watching their kids eat dinner, and observed the bloodthirsty fahltyrs.

But why would they watch such a spectacle and why did the fahltyrs not attack them too? The horror continued until the fahltyrs, with their inflated and bulging bellies as round as the moon above, retreated at last.

They moved on four legs and wiggled about from side to side to return to wherever they came from. But one of them came to a sudden halt and turned towards the withered bush – towards him.

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Derrick jerked back in place with a gasp and covered his mouth, remaining motionless as the humanlike creature sniffed the bush and was ready to hunt for yet another victim, although it had just eaten.

Soon enough, it emerged from beyond the fork and sniffed its way to him, scraping its bony legs against the hard surface. Derrick shut his eyes and pleaded with the Almighty not to let the creature notice him.

The treacherous bush came alive once more right then. The fahltyr turned its hollow face towards him, staring with its empty sockets while blood-filled saliva trickled down from its lipless mouth.

Unwittingly, he gulped and leaned against the bush, trying to get through its prickly arms. It drew closer and closer. Its lipless mouth gushed with dark blood and reeked like a mixture of sour death and sweet iron – in fact, it smelled so rotten that Derrick felt dizzy.

It straightened its spine and stood on two legs like a human would, sniffing him while turning and twisting its bald head like a wounded owl – only an arm’s length away now. Its breath was warm and moist, green as the colour of mucus, and as rotten as fermented eggs.

His stomach turned upside down with nausea. But not for long. The creature came to a halt, just inches away from nudging the tip of his nose, and turned its vile face towards the fork, where it must have heard something that had yet to reach his ears.

It reverted to four legs, albeit hesitantly, and dashed back to the fork, leaving him safe. Derrick wheezed. The sound of his laboured breath resonated as if he were submerged in the vast, unfathomable depths of the Seven Seas.

He couldn’t take his bloodshot eyes off the fork, not even for a second. Was it gone? What did it hear that he didn’t? He couldn’t tell even if he wanted to, and he certainly didn’t dare to jump to any hasty conclusions either. The sounds beyond the bush ceased for good. The fahltyrs were no longer nearby.

He peered through the branches again and distorted his face. What in the—? The giants were still there. The old man and the fahltyrs weren’t.

Still, he let out a sigh of relief before glancing at the gruesome sight of what remained of the poor boy, who lay on the ground without a grave of his own, forgotten for all eternity, far away from home – disfigured and mutilated beyond recognition.

But he didn’t have time to celebrate his own good fortune or be sorry for the dead boy because, you see, one giant stooped all of a sudden and swept away several trees and bushes along with it without warning. It was so strong that if the giant so desired, it would undoubtedly crush him into a thousand pieces and turn this place upside down in mere seconds.

Its brownish-black skin was as rough as tree bark and filthy as if the giant had not washed in years. Also, all the dirt on its bushy body was caked together and reeked worse than the humanlike creatures.

This wasn’t a pretty sight, and although he didn’t know what caused the giant’s sudden movements, he was about to find out. Through the withered bush, the giant in question looked him straight in the eyes, staring blankly into his soul.

That was when the feeling in his legs returned and his heart pumped as it had never pumped before – just as the other giant also stooped over and met his trembling gaze with a grin, “Peek-a-boo!”

Derrick recoiled and sprinted, never looking back as he ran along the winding path. The ground quivered the entire time and confirmed that the giants were pursuing him. But why? How did they find out he was there!?

With each bush he passed, the hills he climbed, and the pits he avoided, the air became damper and caused his clothes to stick to him and drench him in cold sweat. Soon afterwards, he grew tired of the never-ending flight through the darkness and was forced to slow down.

He came to a dead end at some point, only to realise that the rocking soil beneath his feet had broken off as if he had just imagined the giants chasing him through the unknown for the last few minutes.

He furrowed his brows and let his shaky eyes search the darkness. No matter how hard he looked around, nothing jumped out of the shadows. There were no giants, fahltyrs, or trolls anywhere he rested his shaken gaze.

Lordôm had dozed off, somehow, and an overwhelming silence now filled the void.

He leaned forward out of exhaustion, unable to straighten his spine, and drew a deep breath. His palms rested on his thighs as he panted, relentlessly trying to catch his breath.

Only when he collapsed did he divert his gaze from the shadowy surroundings. His entire body shook and screamed for air. He couldn’t control his convulsing limbs, and he certainly could hear nothing besides his own beating heart at that moment.

He wanted to cry for help, make the convulsions stop, but he could not. Every fibre in his body ached.

For the last time, he wanted to return home and see his sisters and bedridden dad. Perhaps he could find another way to master magic. He could make a living by teaching basic spells to the children in his village, couldn’t he?

There had to be other ways to leave the slum than entering Mahgrad…. At the same time, he doubted himself. What had become of the boy who wanted the world at his feet?

He groaned, unable to stop himself from screaming in agony.

The fahltyrs were going to find him any second now, hear his numbing screams and moans and devour him or tear him into fragments with their bloody, lipless mouths. Even now, at this very second, he could hear their scraping feet against the barren ground.

He smirked. He was as good as dead now, whether he returned home or stayed here for the beasts to find him.

Everything was over, and nothing mattered. A poor boy he was, and a poor boy he would stay. In the end, the merchants were right.