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JULES
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Jules crept to the edge of the lake. Its black waters sat mostly still, and it appeared to extend infinitely in the opposite direction. He'd been here before, countless times, but never remembered it when he awoke. Rote memorization, and alongside it dread, filled him to his core. Just part of the routine. It's always a whirlwind until the prison, but there’s no other way out of here.
Jules glanced around for something interesting to procrastinate his journey. A thick, lush forest surrounded this side of the lake. He had no idea where he was. It was night, but no starlight pierced the pure black sky. The only light came from the lake’s shimmering reflections, but Jules’ could never identify its source. Now where's that entrance?
It used to take him days to find it—somehow, time dilated here. After years of this fever dream, this nightmare, he could find it in minutes. Jules took one step onto the water, then another, and another, and continued to walk across its uneven and ever-changing surface. He walked until he felt it was safe to turn back and walked even farther. When he finally spun around, the forest had disappeared, completely out of sight. Instead, in the same direction—or what Jules felt was the same direction where he started his journey—two giant double doors towered over him. Their gold surface shined through the shroud of mist and haze. He stood before them, but nothing happened. The gates should have opened by now.
Jules reached out for a handle, and the doors faded away. Overcome by panic, Jules’ wide eyes looked down at the water, and he sank through the lake's surface. The uneasy sensation of free-falling sent his stomach down into his bladder.
SPLASH!
The shock of icy water tore him from his nap against some cargo crates. A girl nearby held an empty wooden bucket. Jules sat on a docked boat, drenched. Jules steeled himself. Here we go. The girl's emerald eyes cut sharply through the darkness. He knew her from before. But where, and when? As soon as Jules recognized her face, her eyes and body zoomed out, far away from him.
Jules stood on a cobblestone street now, bumping shoulders with a gathering crowd. Another woman appeared before him, paraded on a palanquin supported by samurai wearing demon masks. Oni. The Shinsorai? Jules locked eyes with the woman, hers also of a deep green shade, and his Seal seared on his chest. Against the silhouette of her shoulder, far in the distance, small flames danced. Jules took his eyes off of her in favor of the embers for just a moment, and her palanquin hurried away through the parade.
Now he found himself on the other side of the street at a vendor’s stall, the procession behind him long gone. Before Jules was a heavily tattooed man, sat tailor-styled on top of some merchant crates. The man tried to sell Jules the source of those dancing flames—a magnificent blazing sword. Fire flickered and reached toward Jules’ eyes. In some type of communion…or dark sacrament.
The fire entered from the right of his field of vision and passed quickly through to the left until it darted out of sight. Jules followed its path with his gaze. No longer a sword, a fiery arrow flew by his nose. It landed on the drawbridge he stood on, surrounded by a company of soldiers, knights, and hooded figures mid-siege. Jules noted one distinct knight slaughter man after man. The knight bashed them aside like bugs, to plunge into the water below, lifeless. Jules turned to see where the arrow came from.
Another whirlwind passed through him, and Jules stood in a castle bailey. An entire legion of knights stood before him, at attention. Not for me, though. At the steps to the keep, their leader removed his helmet and ordered them to kneel. Even Jules complied and looked down at his feet in submission.
When he lifted his head up again, Jules found himself knelt alone before the obscure outline of a portly king, slouched on a throne. Jules' gaze drew high above the king’s crown, to a sword pointed downward at the monarch. It was aflame and supported by only a thin thread, frayed and spinning. Terror gripped Jules. It’s ripping. “No!” Jules reached out for the king—to save the king. Guards immediately grabbed him and ripped him away from the throne. The belligerent king ordered Jules be sent to prison. The guards dragged Jules away, and he watched the string still fraying, ripping. Anticipation and dread gripped him, until—
WHAM!
Jules' back met the ground. The cell’s stone floor chilled his spine. He caught his breath, sat up, and blinked slowly while he adjusted to the darkness and collected his wits. I’ve never seen that much before, have I? No. Definitely not. I always forget when I’m awake, but when I’m in this dream, I regain the memories of past dreams. And I certainly don’t remember any of that.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Jules looked around the prison cell, searching for anything new, something unfamiliar. “Last time I was here, the key was in the doors, but now—wait, what?” Jules studied the lone door. He always saw those twin golden doors here, but today, or tonight, or whenever the hell it was, he saw something else. The black door from the Shrine.
Its handle still burned red hot and provided the only light in the room. Jules remembered the ominous warning from earlier. Do not open that door. He took another step back. “Don’t open the fucking door. Got it.” Jules searched for another exit. Each time a section of the prison went out of his vision and came back in, something changed, if only slightly.
SCREECH!
The service hatch slammed open and flooded the room with blinding light from the other side. Jules approached the hatch, and his eyes adjusted slowly. “You didn’t say anything about looking through the door, though, did you?” Jules wasn't sure who he even asked, but he peeked through the slit before it could respond.
On the other side, he saw that white fox sitting on a familiar shore. A man in a foreign outfit walked into frame, and the fox lovingly leapt into his arms. The picturesque scene burned away like parchment. Scarlet flames from behind the facade grew darker and blacker. The flames singed Jules’ eyebrows, and he recoiled back into the safety of his cell. His dry eyes reflexively teared up. Struck more by curiosity than bravery, he peered back through the service hatch door and became paralyzed with fear.
Walking toward him was a monster of pure darkness. A demon. It was much taller than a man but still seemed somewhat human. Antlers reached out from its skull above a set of fiery crimson eyes. Its skin and clothing were entirely shades of black and deep gray. Rich, red blood dripped from the demon’s countless battle scars and from the edge of the serrated blade it clutched in its right hand.
It approached Jules, and the seemingly unyielding red flames split a path before it. As if fire itself fears it. In its wake, black flames replaced the scarlet. Fear crippled him, and Jules couldn’t move his hands to shut the service hatch, he couldn’t move his feet to step back. He couldn’t even move his eyes to avert his gaze. This is what Dad’s been protecting me from—What Evelyn’s always been afraid of.
“I know who you are.” Who we are.
Just before it reached the door—and just before the last bit of its black flames had subdued the crimson embers, flailing on their last stand—white and red flames surged through the service hatch and into his cell. Jules leapt backward to avoid the heat, but felt none. The white flames formed a fox’s face. Crimson flames filled its eyes. It repeated one message, over and over again.
“SAVE HIM. SAVE HIM.”
“Save who!?” The fox peered into Jules’ soul. One last time, it shrieked.
“SAVE HIM!”
It burst into a flash of white light, and Jules was in a white room with no walls, just an infinite expanse of white in all directions. He dropped to his knees. Finally. Jules was safe in the White Room; he knew that he’d wake up soon.
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CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The bell tower's incessant ringing gave Coralhaven's citizens the all-clear. Jules sat on a crate in the plaza, people-watching. It feels weird being out in the open today. And that damned bell won't stop. It's like a constant reminder of last night's failure. I wish it would stop, but at the same time, I'm afraid that it will.
The morning sun warmed his back. Bustling villagers hustled all about town. Most found friends and family members they hadn’t been able to see the afternoon before, when everyone hurriedly locked themselves indoors. With no one to talk to, Jules eavesdropped on many conversations and laughed to himself at some of the absurd rumors spreading around.
“Navigators got in last night and found it right away!”
“And he said the Hydromages found a trail of fire that led them straight to it“
"He swore the Royal Navy found it deep underwater just off the south shores.”
Only one rumor—and that’s all it is, just a rumor, right?—caught Jules’ attention and stuck with him. “Magnus Krakenbane himself captured the Shrine last night!”
Despite an extremely delicate and complex problem before him, Jules still couldn’t shake his hope of getting another chance to capture this Shrine himself. A light flashed in the distance and caught his eye. He searched for the source and finally found his father, alone in an alleyway. Liam feigned looking at his watch. Five minutes. Five more minutes of peace, and then it all begins.
Jules tried to relax while Liam and Cyrus moved forward with their parts of the plan. He tried to think about the villagers running about, but his thoughts kept going back to it. He tried to think about how exciting it would be to go see the Shrine this morning, as most of the village would, because it was a rite of passage for city- and townsfolk to visit their Shrines, at least when they were deemed safe or quarantined. But the thoughts wouldn’t stop. And he tried to distract himself with how different Coralhaven was soon to become, now that it was home to a Shrine, but still he couldn’t keep the thoughts at bay. Jules even tried to think of their plan to isolate and corner Isolda today.
Why now? Why today, of all days? I should be focused on Isolda, and the plan, but I can’t stop shake that nightmare. Countless mornings where I can’t recall what happens, but of course today I do. And I know that it was my first time experiencing a lot of it. Jules opened Isolda’s satchel and took out her copy of The Sins of Our Fathers. Arcanics, Isolda, the nightmare, this Shrine—Could they all be related?
“Put that away,” Cyrus said. He’d snuck up and taken Jules by surprise. “Liam’s in place, it’s time.”
“Thank Salvos,” Jules said. He shoved the book back into the satchel and hopped off the crate. “I was beginning to lose my mind. Let’s find out what she knows, what she wants.”
The duo bumped into and slid past villagers on the streets as they walked toward the schoolhouse. Jules never knew Coralhaven was as populated as it was. Bet Hal and Smitty are the only people working today. Not even the food stands are open.
“We've all had quite the busy past day—Ah, Jules, Cyrus, welcome!” Isolda beckoned them to join the rest of the small class. “Obviously we didn’t get to finish the Ceremony yesterday, but we’re already onto bigger and bolder topics. Who wants to go visit the Shrine?”
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