“‘You’ll be fine!’ He says…! ‘You’ll LOVE the challenge!’ He says…!”
As he approached the line of trees separating him from Selon Anora, Zaron muttered to himself bitterly. He expressed his undying resentment for his insufferable older brother, blaming him on the nightmare the Draiken boy endured throughout the last hour. With no working device to remind him of the time, he had no idea on whether the ‘one-hour’ time limit had already passed or not. All he could do for now was assume the worst and focus on retrieving the pendent.
“Oh, how I’ll make him eat those words...!” He then vowed underneath his breath, an aura of scorn emitting from his body.
Zaron proceeded to manoeuvre his way through the foliage with a cautious mind, conscious of his damaged arm. He had no choice but to take his time shifting through the closed space, the immense agony generating from the damaged arm serving as a constant reminder that one slip could cost him dearly. Each step he took; each body shift he made; and each breath escaping his mouth: all were not without risk.
However, after one last push, Zaron stumbled into the clearing, almost tripping over his own feet at the sight of the ruin before him. He was swift to plant his feet and reinforce his balance, feeling his heart racing with dread at the prospect of falling over and landing on his crushed arm. After a moment of relief, Zaron lifted his head.
“Whoa...!”
Directly above him stood the towering ruins of Selon Anora, glowing proudly in glory beneath the late-afternoon sun. Although battle-scarred, the ruins stood strong over the past millennia, showed no signs of weakness or exposure as though proving to the world of its impenetrability. From the Draiken boy’s point of view, the platinum walls that coated the ruins had no severe deterioration in sight. Its heavenly appearance gave off an ageless aura that would rival any modern-day structure – no matter the expense. Additionally, numerous thick vines could be seen slithering up the bordering walls without a care in the world, its natural touch morphing over the man-made structure to the point where the ruin had transitioned into a permanent feature of the forest. Finally, the observation tower itself loomed high over Zaron and the rest of the forest, taken aback by the intimidating yet magnificent size of the building upon witnessing it up close. Although it was tough to examine the tower from far down below, Zaron could easily assume the artistic pride in building such a marvellous project way back during the olden days. Overall, Selon Anora was an amazing sight – one that would never leave Zaron’s mind for as long as he lived.
Just then, the young Draiken shook his head hastily, realising that he had fallen into a trance out of appreciation for Selon Anora’s mesmerising beauty. Without noticing, he had forgotten about his excruciating injuries momentarily – the pain only deciding to return with full-force once he snapped back to reality. Whilst brief, the time spent in his trance-like state was absolute bliss.
With no time to lose, Zaron proceeded towards the ancient building swiftly. As he stepped, he held back the pained moans and groans whilst hugging his damaged arm, refusing to pay it any mind. Whilst his jaw was clenched and body tensed up, the young Draiken held firm through his endless torment, adamant that he would accomplish his goal of retrieving the pendant. Zaron ventured around the left side of the ruin, curious of the secrets and delights the ancient architecture cherished behind its articulate walls.
Admittedly, he had no clue as to where the old ruin’s entrance was situated, further frustrating him at the thought of hitting another blockade in his quest. All he could do was investigate the building thoroughly in hopes that a suitable opening was available to pass through. The young Draiken proceeded to search the entire perimeter of Selon Anora’s base, focusing on locating any doors, windows, or other plausible gaps suitable for him to slip into easily. However, every reasonable candidate he stumbled across were either locked, barricaded, or blocked with immovable debris. He found the main entrance to the ruin eventually, only to realise that it had caved in on itself due to previous traumatic events. Every second wasted only added to Zaron’s overall frustration, pushing the limits of his patience in the process. Regardless, he continued his search, considering the thought of breaking his way in by force as a last resort.
After what felt like an eternity, Zaron noticed an open window large enough for him to pass through without complication. Based upon the state of the identified area, the window – along with the wall itself – was significant damaged from inside the ancient building. Rubble, barricaded wood, and even entire sections of the wall were scattered outside across the forest ground – most entangled in weeds and natural flora. Deciding not to miss out on the opportunity, Zaron proceeded to pass through the open gap, lowering his head under the intact section of the window and stepping over what remained of the window’s lower border. He hugged his damaged arm securely as he entered, avoiding the unnecessary torment that would follow had he brushed it against the wall accidentally.
Once inside the Selon Anora, the relieved Zaron decided to take a small breather, using this opportunity to gain an overview of his new surroundings. He leant against a nearby – and stable – wall in an exhausted slump, unable to ignore the looming fatigue. Aside from the damaged arm, the rest of his body was also a wreck – both physically and emotionally. Whilst he was able to regain some stamina after the Venxe encounter, he knew he could lose it all in a matter of seconds.
(If only I could fly…)
Casting the depressing thoughts aside in an instant, Zaron decided to observe the room surrounding him, allowing himself to appreciate the intricate design it presented. Glancing around, the room was once used as a lounge area in a previous life, as evident by the various unique furniture scattered throughout the area. There were several cushioned armchairs of exquisite design that surrounded the room, dusty yet also refined in appearance. Alongside them were several glass tables, some standing and unscathed whilst others were less fortunate with their cracked surfaces, missing legs, and smashed interior. To top it off, various paintings of portraits and landscapes were dotted across the walls, adding a boost of atmosphere to the overall tranquil environment of Selon Anora.
Zaron then noticed the main archway of the room had collapsed entirely as he shifted his gaze, substantial portions of rubble blocking access to the rest of the ruin. Much to the young Draiken’s frustration, it was physically impossible for him to budge any of the larger sections of rubble due to his current condition. He believed any attempt to move them would only waste time and damage him further. Additionally, he had a suspicion the collapsed archway was blocking the easiest path towards his goal.
Thankfully, the disappointment was merely temporary. As his sights shifted towards the far right of the room, Zaron’s expression brightened. He noticed an alternate route – a smaller, round archway that followed through to a stretched, open hallway. As it was his only option forward, Zaron pressed on. He hoped the alternate route would lead him towards a staircase, reminding himself that the pendant had landed inside the tower’s observatory dome.
As he continued through the long stretch of corridor, Zaron’s mind drifted. He felt the smashed-up phone juggle inside his pocket, causing him to pout irritably as he wondered about the remaining time.
(How much time had passed since I started this damn ‘game’…?)
Questions continued to loom over him, consuming him as though the pressure weighed him down immensely.
(Do I have any time left at all?!)
And yet, one question overshadowed the others with ease, causing Zaron to shudder at the thought as he briefly glanced at his crushed arm.
(More importantly … how am I going to explain all THIS to Mum?!)
Eventually, he was able to reach the end of the hallway, entering the central foyer of the tower. Like the lounge area he entered initially, the foyer emitted a tranquil, relaxed aura. Its overall design matched the previous room: artistic patterns that emulated Draiken wing-scales, fangs and other reptilian features were etched throughout the platinum walls. As it continued to expand, the flowing patterns created borders around the various cathedral-like, stain-glassed windows and the door archways surrounding the room – including the collapsed main entrance of the ruin. With the sun’s late-afternoon rays breaking through the stained-glass windows, Zaron could imagine an angelic presence watching over him in care.
Shifting perspective, the most notable aspect of the foyer was gargantuan in size. The sheer magnitude of the central foyer dwarfed Zaron, forcing a sense of inferiority upon him as he witnessed its magnificence. As he glanced further upwards, the young Draiken was left in awe of the foyer’s ceiling. He felt lost in a maze of patterns and sequences that morphed and flowed like a sea, dynamically changing as he peered in different directions. Even as he stepped to change his position entirely, he found the ceiling’s appearance shift and morph into new images with ease. If he had the time available, he knew it would take him hours to decipher the ceiling’s intricate design.
Jolt!
Zaron then felt a sudden twinge in his spine, jolting as he realised how far he had craned his neck back whilst observing the ceiling. After a moment of soothing the ironic pain, he decided to straighten up and return to pursuing his objective. A cast of hope struck Zaron as he noticed the spiralling staircase situated at the far-left corner of the foyer, believing it to be the route he required to reach the top of the ruin’s observation tower. As though a mythological force pushed him from behind, he stepped over towards the staircase automatically with heightened anticipation. His pace quickened with every step, ignoring the seething pain from his arm as he imagined the pendant in his possession once more.
Upon reaching the staircase, the Draiken boy ascended without delay. He peered up through the central gap of the spiral briefly, gaining a rough estimate of how long it would take for him to reach the top floor. Although his optimism had reignited, he also felt a sense of caution lingering within him.
As he ascended, he was checking his damaged arm frequently, noticing spots of blood seeping through the fabric of the wrapped jacket. Acting on instinct, he readjusted the jacket and tightened it over the arm – almost losing all feeling in his damaged limb from the reinforced tightness. With that, he kept his body as close to the enclosed circular wall as possible during his ascension, his eyes fixed ahead as he ensured not to peek down the central gap. Considering the concept of a handrail was non-existent throughout the entire building, there was no possibility for him to prevent his fall. As it stood, Zaron was not in the position to take any further risks.
At first, Zaron’s was at awe of the rising spiral staircase, imagining he was ascending towards a heavenly realm. However, the whimsical imagination soon morphed into gradual resentment as he continued to climb his way up the tower, his expression twisted to immense agony and agitation within minutes of his ascension. The steps before him were endless, it continued – on and on and on – without an end in sight. Furthermore, his footsteps grew heavier and strenuous, feeling the sense that he was carrying an overbearing weight on his shoulders. Regardless, he forced himself to press on, his mind in conflict between his struggling determination and his mental exhaustion. He reminded himself constantly that his goal of retrieving the emerald pendant was in arms reach. All he needed was to keep climbing.
(Why do I have the feeling ... that someone’s getting a kick out of my torment…?)
Zaron sighed out in disdain as he pondered the thought, his breaths heavy whilst his imagination ran wild. There was an unbearable desire to dash up the twisting staircase, the muscles of his legs becoming agitated the restraint of walking speed. If not for the burden of his damaged arm, he believed he could race to the top level of the staircase within a matter of minutes. Additionally, the Draiken boy imagined how different events would play out had he mastered the ability of fight – from flying up the staircase to skipping his entire encounter with the Venxe. Even though he had reached the ideal age to acquire the ability, he had no luck in obtaining it so far – due to his neglect to train and general laziness.
Unfortunately, reality was a cruel mistress. He had no other choice but to tackle the task the hard way, rendering the preferable options worthless to him. He held his head high and ignored the setbacks as much as he could endure. At least, that was the case until his foot slid upon the next step.
Thwip-!
“Ah-?!”
Zaron yelped out in abrupt shock, almost stumbling over his own feet. He held a firm stance firm reactively as he balanced his body weight, freezing up like a statue whilst protected his arm adamantly. His heart was racing, predicting the horrific outcome had he fell entirely.
“T-that was close…”
He muttered underneath his breath. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Zaron returned to climbing the steps promptly, oblivious to the consequences caused by his miniscule slip up. As he continued his ascent, the small rubble that dropped off the step’s edge struck the ground.
Jolt...! BOOM!!!
In that very moment, an explosive echo erupted throughout the tower in a sudden jolt. The noise caught Zaron off guard completely, causing him to jump up in fright. His entire body tensed up, his eyes flickering restlessly as beads of cold sweat formed from his brow.
(What ... was that...?)
After a moment of hesitancy, Zaron shook his head hastily. The Draiken boy then noticed he had locked grasp over his damaged arm, realising he was digging his fingers into the fabric of his bundled jacket due to the abrupt shock. Although the jacket was thick enough to absorb the mild tension, he still felt the pain emitting from his arm over his grip’s pressure. Lessening his grasp, Zaron decided to investigate the source of the unexpected noise. He leaned over the edge of the stairwell cautiously, his eyes peering down towards the ground floor.
“Please tell me that wasn’t my fault...” Zaron murmured to himself anxiously, a shiver shooting up his spine as he observed the vacant floor far below.
“““…ScreeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...!!!”””
Just then, several high pitch screeches followed, their deafening echoes ripping through the silent atmosphere like a sharp, jagged blade. Zaron body shuddered in response, his eyes shut tight, and teeth grounded in agony as he tried to drown out the soul-piercing noise in desperation. However, the young Draiken was left vulnerable to the deafening screech, unable to cover his ears due to covering his damaged arm. Zaron backed away from the staircase edge immediately, knocking his back and wings against the wall in the process.
At the same time, the screeching continued without mercy, causing him to slouch as his muscles lost tension and resistance deteriorated rapidly. It was as though his ears-drums were close to rupturing, blood seeping out from his ear holes in reaction. If the torture continued for too long, the Draiken boy was sure to lose his hearing permanently. In a final attempt to resist the piecing screeches, Zaron forced his eyes open in a struggle, hoping to regain his vision before the situation escalated to a deathly level. Unfortunately, no matter the attempt to break through the setback, Zaron was rendered paralysed by the screeching.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Slice-!
“Nn-!”
In that moment, Zaron felt an odd, razor-sharp object slice across his left cheek, causing him to wince in abrupt pain as a fresh cut along his cheek opened. He wished to figure out the source of the cut, yet the piercing noise continued to immobilise him.
“SCREEEEEEeeeeee...!”
Soon after, the screeches mellowed out, turning the world silent once again. Zaron’s eyes flickered open ever so cautiously, his sight adjusting to the light of the world gradually. He gasped out to breathe, feeling the intense pressure lift from his body as though he was freed from the imaginary shackles binding him. He felt dizzy, nauseous, and faint simultaneously, struggling to function. Holding back the rising urge to vomit, he straightened up in his seated position and examined the surrounding area.
What he saw was no different. Nothing had moved. No change in the scenery. Not a single sign of life whatsoever.
(Where did that damn noise come from?!)
Zaron was left in disarray, shaking his head hastily to dispel the intense ringing remaining in his ears. At the same time, the stinging sensation from the cut on his left cheek flared up, causing him to flinch without warning. In response, he decided to rest his damaged arm carefully on his lap as he knelt, manoeuvring his legs slightly so they could function as a temporary pillow. With his damaged arm protected, he used his healthy hand to examine the sustained cut on his cheek. As expected, he felt a diagonal open gash spanning across his cheek, his fingers sweeping over the blood as droplets trickled down to his chin. He cuffed up the oncoming blood with his wrist, letting out a frustrated sigh as he added another inconvenience to the list of inconveniences since entering the forest – albeit insignificant compared to his arm.
Deciding to prioritise his care on the greater of the two injuries, he returned to securing his damaged arm with his healthy arm. Afterwards, he struggled to his feet, his body shaken and unbalanced as he was still suffering from the piercing screeches. After spending a brief time to regain his stability, Zaron hobbled over to the edge of the circling staircase, peering down for a second time in morbid curiosity. He focused his search for the origins of the deafening screech, wondering what creature – or object – could cause such a devastating noise. In addition, he also wondered if it was linked to the fresh gash on his cheek. Initially, Zaron found nothing out of the ordinary, just absolute silence.
Whoosh!!! Flutter-flutter!
And then, the instant Zaron doubted the issue, hundreds – if not, thousands – of swift, shadow-like dots shot into view.
“Wha-?!”
He gasped out in horror, stumbling back from the edge. He backed away from the edge in a sense of urgency, his sub-consciousness screaming at him to run and never look back. Without delay, he switched and dashed up the ascending steps, hugging his damaged arm tightly as he restrained the desire to yell out at the top of his lungs in agony. Furthermore, he felt the presence of his new pursuers chasing his tail at an alarming rate – even when he had no intention of checking behind his back for confirmation.
Whoosh...! Swish...! Flutter-flutter! SWOOP!
The creatures were silent and swift as they had Zaron locked on target. With his heart racing and breaths quickening in haste, Zaron was at a complete loss in his desire to escape. His eyes darted in search for any potential escape before his pursuers could slice him to ribbons, yet his options were non-existent.
(…wait.)
An idea then emerged from the depths of his mind, although he considered it ridiculous in execution. As he ran, he noticed a cathedral-like stained-glassed window approach from the distance as it curved around the circulating wall. The window was large enough for Zaron’s body to pass through without risk of getting stuck and hurting himself further – if he avoided the broken glass upon impact. Admittedly, the idea was insane, yet it was the only reasonable way to escape his impending demise. With the horrific creatures drawing close on his tail, he had no time to reconsider his decision. He knew he had to take the risk regardless of the consequences that awaited him.
With the stain-glass window approaching, he readied himself to execute his dynamic plan – much to his immense dread. At the same time, the creatures were mere moments away from reaching their target, several wings whistling through the air as though slicing it in half. For the Draiken boy, it was do-or-die. All he needed was timing and commitment.
(Three … Two … One…!)
Zaron counted down in his mind, his body tensioned as he braced internally.
(NOW!!!)
SMASH!!!
The young Draiken threw himself to the right with brute force, shielding his body with his wings as he collided against the stained window. The window shattered with ease upon impact, causing him to fall out of sight in immediate transition.
Swish-swish! SWOOSH...!!!
The creatures followed his direction, passing through the opening at lightning speed as they flew out into the world beyond Selon Anora. However, they were oblivious to the fallen Draiken, instead darting ahead towards the distant horizon as though blind his current position. With his legs and wings dangling loosely against the wall of the ruin’s tower, the bewildered Zaron watched the swift creatures whilst hanging by the fingertips of his usable hand. He struggled to process his drastic manoeuvre, wondering how he managed to escape his pursuers successfully. Immediately during his descent from the window’s edge, the young Draiken had released his grip on his damaged arm in haste and latched his good hand on the narrow ledge directly underneath the smashed stained window. Due to velocity of the descent, he only had a split-second to save himself from falling to his untimely demise.
“Nn…!”
He could feel the extent of the strain in his healthy arm as it held his entire bodyweight, yet he was adamant to not reveal his position – no matter how much pain he endured. In the next few seconds, the young Draiken watched as the mysterious flying creatures above passed him without a hint of awareness in his position. He held his breath, praying to avoid generating any further noise that could alert the creatures.
Vroooosh!!! Swish-swish-swish-swish...!
As he observed, Zaron caught a glance of the swift creatures soaring over his head. Although he struggled to visualise the swift creatures due to their velocity, the Draiken boy soon focused enough to gain a clear image of the mysterious swarm that chased him up the tower. His eyes widened with terror, realising the consequences had he failed to escape their warpath. Without a doubt, these horrific creatures were inches away from shredding him.
On the surface, one could easily mistake them for harmless flying rodents. With their overall size equal to an adult hand - even with wings fully expanded – and their coats varying in shades of black and grey, the creatures emitted an aura of nocturnal dominance. However, the small, rodent-like beasts were equipped with unique, deadly features. The first was their devastating jaws, gaped with rows of pointed fangs sharp enough to pierce through the Draiken boy’s skin without a hint of resistance. The second, defining feature were their razor-sharp, blade-like wings, thin enough to glide and slice through any flesh and bone that appealed to them.
Zaron winced at the thought, remembering the open gash on his left cheek. He then noticed the razor-winged creatures’ marble-like eyes, clouded over with a distinct white hue, emulating a ghostly aura that would send shivers down the spines of its victims – including Zaron. It was as though they were undead, revived from the afterlife to haunt and terrorize whatever they pleased.
“...”
And with the thought discarded, Zaron concluded immediately that he preferred to avoid the razor-winged creatures at all costs. Believing he was in the clear upon watching the creatures disappear off into the distance, Zaron took no time to hoist himself back into the tower. Using his wing-talons as makeshift hooks, he scrambled his way up and through the shattered window. He gasped and wheezed in agony, the immense pain of his damaged arm escalating to unbelievable heights as he continued to force his body beyond his capable limits. Adding to the pressure, Zaron imagined the sheer drop below his feet. Although he rarely suffered from vertigo, his current predicament caused him to hesitate.
“Grr…! Come on, dammit!”
He yelled out hastily as he expelled the depressing thought, his muscles screaming in response as he lifted.
He felt weak; he felt exhausted; his damaged arm was unbearable; and his usable arm had fallen numb: the idea of yielding to his fate grew desirable by the second.
“Hnngh...! Argh!!!”
Losing all restraint in his voice, Zaron used the last of his strength to clamber back through the window gap. Assisted with the upward momentum, he used both his wings and his remaining arm to propel himself up onto the ledge. His legs vaulted over the window and onto the safety of the steps, tumbling briefly as the muscles in his limbs fell ling. Zaron froze in place, preventing himself from rolling off the centre-edge of the staircase by accident.
“Eh-heh-hee…! Made it.”
The young Draiken was left chuckling to himself faintly, his voice barely audible upon surviving the ordeal. He laid still momentarily with his limbs sprawled out like a wonky star, allowing himself to recover – even for just a few seconds longer. Feeling the stony steps shift beneath his feet, he felt a sense of salvation upon returning to solid ground. With a half-open gaze, Zaron glanced out the gap of the shattered stained-glass window, praying the razor-winged creatures would not return for him.
Much to his relief, there were no sign of the creatures whatsoever. His only visual was the spanning forest, basking in the remaining rays as the sun fell into the horizon. Zaron looked on with a blank stare, his mind dazed as the events of the past hour echoed through mind: his brother’s cunning smirk as he threw the Draiken boy off the cliff’s edge; the ferociousness of the Venxe as the two wrestled for absolute dominance; and finally, the horrifying bloodlust of the razor-winged swarm as they chased him up the tower relentlessly.
“Today can just ... screw itself.”
Upon expressing his frustration, Zaron struggled to his feet feebly. As he stood, he cradled his damaged arm once again to avoid further discomfort. Afterwards, he lifted his head, observing the remaining section of the rising staircase he had yet to climb – praying he was close to the end. Thankfully, he spotted a wooden door close above his current position, assuming it led to the observation dome. With one final push, he believes he had enough stamina left to reach his destination. His target set, Zaron lowered his sights to check the condition of his damaged arm, inspecting the wrapped blood-soaked, jet-black jacket for any loose areas. After some minor adjustments to the bandage, he was prepared once more. With a faint yet determined sigh, he stepped up the staircase, imagining the pendant finally returned to him.
His body then swayed.
“...Oh.”
Zaron’s eyes blurred unexpectedly, his feet staggering as he struggled to hold his balance. He felt nauseous, his mind unable to function as the world around him span and swayed uncontrollably. Regardless of his attempts to focus, he was met with a seething headache and increased nausea. The truth to his situation was dire: his body was shutting down.
Zaron shook his head arrogantly, feigning ignorance to the warning signs. He was desperate to proceed, reminding himself that his progress so far would be for nothing. He imagined Denzo looking down on him, laughing at his failure.
Zaron took a deep, elongated breath as he continued his ascension, his consciousness fighting a losing battle against the desire for slumber. Each step was more difficult than the last, feeling as though it was impossible to reach the door at his current pace. Although gradual, the door edged closer to him with each second, as though ushering him to fight the pain and push forward.
“Come on, Zaron ... almost there...!” The Draiken boy muttered to himself in self-motivation, his words slurring and breaking as the lack of consciousness overwhelmed him. However, after what felt like an eternity, Zaron reached the highest point of the staircase. He approached the wooden door with staggered steps, his focus and strength hanging by a thread. Instead of opening the old dusty door as expected, Zaron decided to use his bodyweight as a wrecking-ball and barge through the door with brute force.
BOOM!
“Oh-!”
BANG!
Due to the shock of the forced momentum, Zaron lost his stability entirely and stumbled front-first onto the rock-hard floor – almost falling on top of his damaged arm in the process. Thankfully, he twisted his body just enough to avoid the turmoil, instead rolling onto his side as an alternate sacrifice. “Agh!” As he struck the ground, Zaron released an agonized gasp, feeling a shockwave of unbearable pain surge through his body. He tensed up and shuddered as he endured the torment, struggling to breathe as he waited for it to die down. Although it took a while for the pain to subside, Zaron breathed out in relief as he felt control once again.
“That was ... a dumb idea...”
After a moment of agonized wheezing, stuttering and groans: Zaron returned to his feet steadily, using the wall beside him as support. The world a blur to Zaron, his gaze only able to identify odd shapes and colours.
With his eyelids slowly flickering, he guessed that he had entered a small corridor. He recognised the line of stain-glass windows on his right and the outline of another door at the very end – at least that was what he assumed.
Zaron staggered on, his unfocused, exhausted gaze drooping as the temptation of collapse was unbearable. The evening Sun’s rays pierced through the stain-glass cathedral windows as he passed, dazzling the tranquil white-amber corridor with immense beauty. The Draiken boy could only imagine the extravagant detail and majesty that surrounded him, wishing he could stop and appreciate the euphoric atmosphere. It was almost dreamlike, as though guiding him on a path towards the haven beyond the door.
“Heh … Heh-heh…! Almost there, r-right?” Zaron mumbled underneath his breath, chuckling away weakly as his words slurred. “All I need is the pendent … and then I’m golden.”
He forgot about the journey back completely. As he reached the door, Zaron placed his good hand on the handle warily, ensuring his damaged arm held secure in the process. His body then slumped against the door, taking a few extra seconds to compose himself. With no time to pause, he pressed down against the door handle.
Click!
The door creaked open gradually, allowing the struggling Zaron to follow through. He then froze on the spot.
His weak eyes widened and mouth agape as the young Draiken was left awestruck. The room opened into a large, extravagant dome, radiating beauty with the Sun’s authentic amber glow like an untouched gem. The cylinder-based roof was coated with a clear glass sheen, overlooking the ancient forest below in its entirety as though it was guarding the natural peace of the world. Zaron was left baffled by the sheer brilliance of the dome, wondering if he had entered a dream.
He then lowered his head curiously, his ears catching the sounds of running water flowing beneath him freely. To his surprise, he found numerous narrow aqueducts embedded into the floor, carrying streams of clear water as they trickled towards various sections of the dome. It was as though the aqueducts were a circuit grid, generating sufficient power for a mysterious entity.
Shifting his sights towards the divine dome’s centre, Zaron noticed a singular, crystalized throne. Dazzling proudly from the reflections of the evening rays, the throne gave the impression that it was like a priceless artefact rather than a usable piece of furniture. Standing tall and refined, it was a throne that no one – not even royalty – would dare defile recklessly. It was a throne fit only for a Goddess.
Just then, a sudden bright glint caught Zaron’s eye. He directed his attention to the seat of the throne, his heart leaping as he peered closer towards its seat.
It was the pendant.
His eyes lit up in an instant, an ecstatic smile consuming him as the overwhelming accomplishment engulfed him. He had no clue how to react, wishing he could jump for joy if not for the fact that he could collapse at any moment. Instead, all he could do was chuckle weakly, allowing his heart to ease. He then stepped forward to retrieve the treasure.
His feet buckled.
Thud!
As though reality struck, Zaron fell forward and collapsed to the floor. The world around him span uncontrollably, throwing him off his balance without any means of remorse. He attempted to recover, staggering back to his feet in force as he committed to reunite with the long-awaited pendant. As he closed in on the pendant, Zaron held out his usable hand as anticipation clouded his reality. In the process, his damaged arm fell limp, blood dripping profusely from the stained cloth of his black jacket. He had no care in the world for his arm, the pain he once endured now completely numb. All that mattered was returning home with the pendant, nothing more.
Bang!
Zaron collapsed once more, the front of his torso colliding against the solid surface. However, even though the fall had knocked the air out of his lungs, the young Draiken refused to admit defeat. He endured far too much torment to retrieve the pendant, causing him to be far too stubborn to accept his current wellbeing as a priority. His body uncooperative, he had no choice but to resort to crawling, using whatever essence of strength left to drag his body to his goal. He was only a few feet away from the pendant. And yet, his body finally expired on him.
Zaron laid helplessly at the foot of the throne as he gasped and wheezed for air. He lifted he head gradually as his glazed eyes looked on, witnessing a small glimpse of the emerald pendant through a glimmer of light. It teased him relentlessly, goading him on to claim his prize.
Step … step … step…
In that moment, a blurred female silhouette stepped out from behind the throne unexpectedly, gazing down upon the motionless Zaron with curious eyes. The silhouette stepped closer, light footsteps echoed throughout the dome as she approached the boy. From his view, Zaron could only grasp the faint image of the female silhouette, assuming she was wearing a plain white dress and bearing the feathered wings of an angel.
“The … the pendant…” Zaron murmured out vacantly, his voice falling into a soundless whisper. “I need … the pendant…”
The silhouette halted beside the young fallen Draiken, the presence of a soothing aura comforting him as she approached him peacefully. She lowered down to a kneeling position, manoeuvring Zaron carefully so that his head could rest on her lap. A soft, gentle palm then soothed his forehead, acting as though she was allowing him to drift off peacefully. Feeling the comfort of the silhouette’s tender warmth, Zaron’s eyes lost its remaining focus as his consciousness fading into the world of slumber.
“Worry not … the pendant is safe.” The young girl’s voice echoed over him soothingly, her voice fair and divine as she calmed his overbearing worries. “You’ve done enough … sleep. Journey to the realm of dreams…”
Finally, Zaron drifted into slumber, trusting the words of the ‘Guardian Angel’.
“I’ll be here when you wake.”
The Draiken boy felt at peace as he listened to the heavenly voice, believing he was safe from the burdens of the outside world.