It was a sickening sight.

The soldier looked dead, but his stoned eyes were alive. Martin turned his head to face another soldier with his arms out in surrender.

“Help,” murmured Martin. Even though he knew this was fake there was something spooky or unsettling about these statues, as if they weren’t always stone, but living breathing humans. He looked down to see another stoned figure, but this one’s stoned eyeball had fallen out and was sitting next to the body.

Martin shuddered. “I got to get out of here!” he said to himself.

Another vision suddenly flashed through his mind. It was of a winged soldier – stoned – and falling to the ground. The vision faded… and all Martin really wanted to do was go. Back to his village. Back to his grandpa. What would he say now when he discovered that he had been to the “Forbidden City.” Martin now understood why his grandpa had called is that. It was a nightmare. Martin started running as fast as he could, his dark brown hair waving in the wind.

“Escape,” was his only thought.

As he ran, Martin looked up at a large building. A vision flashed through his mind, yet again. This one was of men and women crumpling to the ground. The next one that came was of a huge explosion. The next one was of a Winged Soldier crying, “NO! STOP! IT’S TOO DANGEROUS!” The next one was of the Winged Soldier flying over to the big and dark shape and singing…”

Martin felt a terrible headache come over him and he crumbled to the ground in pain and remorse.

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His whole body hurt with pain. He didn’t know why, but he had his breathing was getting slower and he felt weaker.

“Help!” he managed to cough out. “Please somebody help me!”

The last thing he saw was a girl about his age slowly walking towards him.

. . .

His vision was blurry, His mouth was dry, his hands hurt and his head was still pounding.

Martin sat up. Where was he? Was he dead? Everywhere he looked it was just blackness.

He noticed then that his head was no more throbbing and his vision was clearing. Then a light flickered and Martin noticed a girl holding a lamp light to Martin’s face.

“Are you hurt?” the girl questioned.

“No, well, at least not anymore,” said Martin.

He noticed that his voice was slightly cracked.

“Here,” said the girl and she handed Martin a jug of water to sip from. Martin weakly, but reluctantly, took the jug from the girl and drank his thirst.

“I’m Clotilda,” the girl said. “And you?”

Martin tried to get up but immediately crumpled to the ground.

“Why do I feel so weak?”

The girl didn’t answer but instead laid a green blanket over Martin’s body.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Away from the danger.”

Martin frowned.

“In a cave,” the girl shrugged.

Suddenly Martin remembered something.

“Gramps!” he cried. “He’ll be worried!”

Martin weakly struggled to his feat and lumbered over to the cave entrance door.

“No!” cried the girl. “I’m sorry, we’ve all been through it.”

The girl looked up at Martin with tears in her eyes.

“Once you enter the city of Antica, there is no escaping.”

Martin’s knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

The girl ran to help him and she lifted him to his feet.

“Thanks,” he managed to say. “What do mean by no escape?”

“Exactly what I mean,” she said. “It’s literally not possible to escape Antica.”

Martin’s heart quickened in is chest and began muttering, “What? Who? Where? Why?”

His bones started to ache.

“Come,” said the girl. “Let me show you the others.”

“Others?” asked Martin, before collapsing to the ground once more.