Chris thought he had it under control. Being a young man in his early twenties, he believed himself to have seen it all. At first, it felt like a thrilling ride at the water park, but then the slippery tunnel led him far beyond everything he had ever imagined. All around him was utterly dark, and the narrow confines seemed to go on forever, until finally, a dim light appeared miraculously at the distant end. As time slowly passed, this ambiguous source of illumination became closer and gradually brighter, and Chris swore he could suddenly hear the sound of music playing, instrumental like strings stretching against a multitude of violins. And through that wondrous burst of light, which lasted no more than a fraction of a second, he slid out of the tunnel and into a gushing river, confused and completely at the mercy of the stream.

This wet and unexpected experience soon forced him downward, the relentless tide pulling him toward an unknown destination. Our hero fought strongly, though. In what appeared to be a flash of instinct, he stretched out both arms and legs and began pushing hard against the current, making the best efforts to keep his head safely above the foamy waters. And it was at that fateful moment that he first noticed the river was driving him faster, and that there was apparently nothing waiting for him at its foreseeable end. Nothing but emptiness and the vastness of endless space, where in the distance the water line suddenly broke, and the river turned hastily into a diving waterfall, huge and terrible.

“My god!” Chris burst out with a heavy breath, startled by the horrendous sight before him. “Someone, help! Please help me!”

Suspended above the falling waters, just at the point where the world so direly seemed to end, there was a solid bridge made of stone, a sole refuge arching over the edge. Chris calculated he was only seconds away from passing under it, and so he swiftly turned and glanced around, but there seemed to be no one in sight to offer him salvation, and he had after all depleted most of his strength in his ferocious battle against the tide. Exhausted and seemingly helpless, he bravely accepted his fate, closed his eyes and waited in anticipation for the impending doom.

Just then, when all seemed lost, a small figure suddenly glimpsed from up the bridge. It stood observant, locked in absolute silence, following Chris with its gaze and casting a blurry shadow upon the layers of many waters. Chris could not see him, of course, with his eyes still blocked from view. He simply felt a hard bump, surprised as he found himself stumbling against a long wooden stick that was generously offered to him. He grabbed it immediately.

“Swim to the riverbank!” called a voice from above, sounding almost heavenly. “It’s your only chance!”

The strange voice did not need to ask twice, and soon enough, Chris began urging himself toward the side of the river with the help of his new friend. The stream, however, made it treacherously difficult for him throughout the journey, and when his hand finally met the slippery touch of the bank, he was left with no option but to draw on his last bits of strength to climb his way up to the surface, using the precious stick as a ladder. And up there upon the land, Chris found himself unable to hold any longer, and in a single motion collapsed uncontrollably to the ground. He turned on his back, gulping in large breaths of air and seemingly unaware of the presence that shared this triumphant moment.

“Are you alright?” came the voice again, but this time it was clear and innocent. Chris could hear it from a nearby distance, and for a time, believed himself to be imagining. That voice… now had this sudden lightness in it, but what came to his mind seemed quite impossible. Still, he wanted to make sure, and his curiosity got the better of him. He turned his head gently to the side, searching with rolling eyes for the source of the sound.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A pair of dusty boots protruded from close range, aimed directly at him. They were noticeably different from their original size, as if they had been altered in some way to fit a much smaller person, and with their higher parts hidden by folds of what appeared to be stained blue jeans that fell loosely from the waist down. This was enough evidence for Chris to conclude that what he had heard before was not the mere figment of his imagination, and that he could deny it no longer. Reluctantly, he raised his gaze to meet with the truth about his savior.

“For a second there I thought you wouldn’t make it,” the boy said with a hearty laugh. “I’m glad it turned out okay.”

Chris was utterly amazed. There in front of him stood a young boy, casually leaning on one foot and holding the famous stick over his shoulder. Chris figured he must have been no older than ten. And there he was apparently all by himself… but that was not the strangest thing he noticed about him.

Astoundingly, the boy had been wearing a pilot’s helmet with reflective goggles wrapped around his head. It concealed the upper half of his face, and seemed to be made from simple glass and leather, like the ones used in the old wars. His lower features, however, remained exposed in the clear sunlight, revealing fair cheeks that were both round and blushful, and playful lips that gleamed with the ingenuous essence of a child.

“Did you hear what I’ve just said?” His thoughts were suddenly dispersed, as if emerging from a troubling dream. “Good heavens, man! Are you deaf, or did you lose your tongue down by the river?”

Chris dusted himself off and stood up. A few drops slipped from his hair and began streaming down his face. He had made it, after all. Now safe on higher ground, he listened intently to the sound of heavy water crashing into the abyss. What had once been a monstrous force of nature now felt almost soothing.

“I’m alright,” he finally said. “A bit tired and soaked to the bone, but happy to say… alive and well, thanks to you. How’d you find me?”

“It matters not,” said the little rescuer. “Just thank your lucky stars I happened to see you thrashing in the water. A minute later, and you’d be sinking like a rock to the bottom. I’ve seen it before.”

Chris slowly nodded, studying the goggled eyes that seemed so awkwardly to stare. An enchanting sea of deep blue glimpsed from behind the lenses, ready to pull him into its own grip.

“Well, I don’t know who you are or how you showed up, but I’m glad you did. I’m Chris, by the way, in case you were wondering.”

“Name’s Robin,” the boy proudly pointed a thumb at himself. “Though names don’t usually hold much weight around here. Where do you come from, Chris?”

The question seemed to hit him out of nowhere. “I… I don’t know,” Chris stammered, confused. “Now that I think about it, I can’t remember anything. Not where I was going… not how I got here… nothing.”

They were standing near the stone bridge. The river whence he came meandered upward and was surprisingly narrow, and one could easily trace both banks from either side until they were joined by the bridge over the waterfall. That is when Chris first noticed the bridge had a slight curve, as if deliberately shaped to maintain a certain circular path.

Not a circle, he oddly thought to himself. An ellipse. It was perfect.

He hurried across to the other side of the road and leaned forward, only to find the same deadly depth waiting in cruel anticipation along the ridge. The river on one side of the road, the abyss on the other. He was trapped.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, feeling the sudden blood rush through his veins. He glanced at the bridge and then back ahead, where the road seemed to stretch on until it disappeared behind a curve.

“Robin, which way is the nearest town?”

The boy leaned on his stick, letting his body hang loosely for a moment. “Well, there’s supposed to be a village somewhere in the mountains,” he said. “But unless you’ve figured out how to fly, I’d say there are only two options, and neither one will get you there.”