ã€ŠLost in a Dreamã€‹


 Prelude

    Dense clouds rolled across a backdrop of lapis blue; like crimson smoke, they flowed from the chest of a carved knight, blown through an aphotic sky by the dying winds of his weary heart.

    I didn''t get to admire the sight for long.

    "You''re strong," the commander snarled, a hulking man in shimmering ebony armor patterned with wispy typhoons of cream and oxblood. The swirls bore an uncanny resemblance to the slain knight emptying himself into the silty shore. "But this is my home, and I''ll not die here like some flame you''d snuff out with a shovel of dirt."

    He peered at me through two clusters of holes in a solid iron headpiece, describable only as a perforated bucket, and grunted. The rest of his battalion had fallen to my sword, littering the wood-lined meadow like smashed tin cans. They''d made quite a morbid medium for my art, shades of death tainting the lush, fertile forest around us, painting fern and flower slick with a contrasting crimson. In the holy glow of spring''s sun, amidst a field paint-brushed with trampled fuschia tulips and peonies that dribbled out of the treeline, the bloodied plants almost looked at home. Almost.

    The mammoth of a man charged at me, and I backpedaled toward the lake''s muddy shore while keeping my sword raised overhead. Anywhere but the forest--they are, after all, nothing more than a natural obstacle course.

    His footwork was perfectly placed with excellent tempo; he had the speed of a fox despite swelling with brutish strength, bowing the boundaries of human limits as if they physically couldn''t contain his mass. Each swing of his weapon left my own feeling heavier and heavier in hand, every metallic crack a seismic spasm that rung my soul like a church bell. I ducked and weaved through his razing, slowly backstepping to dodge; parrying had become too taxing on my aching palms. With each lurch forward, he churned huge piles of mud, flinging it around us. Though he was slowed, the length of his broadsword kept me from making a clean retreat.

    Not only was I reduced to defense, but the stout cascade of steel he donned had virtually no openings, aside from under the armpits and a small gap beneath his helmet--one just big enough to slip a thin, thirsty blade into.

    Another swing, another step, retreating further and further until I could avoid parrying no more and our swords locked with spark and screech. He grabbed me with a single hand that touched its fingers together at the nape of my neck, feet desperately reaching for the ground as I was lifted into the air. I must''ve looked to pedal myself airborne.

    Perfect.

    "A fire smothers even quicker under mud than dirt." I''d tried to put grit in my voice, delivering the line as though on stage, but the words and melodrama were choked.

    With our weight combined, he sank past his ankles into the soft, dense mud that lined the lake''s western shore. By the time he felt his predicament and dropped me, his boots had been swallowed by an insatiable coast. He yanked at them fruitlessly; an alligator has strength on the close, not open.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Unfortunately, he did not take time to muse on his misfortune as I''d hoped he would.

    His sword slammed into mine with a heaving grunt and sent it flying further into the forest than reality should allow, nesting into the canopy with a grating buzz like a silver beetle. A pained screech and flurry of wings rang out, followed by a distant, wooden thunk. Before I could look back in disdain, his blade was thrusting straight at my heart. I ducked, twisting, and just barely managed to get low enough for it to deflect off my mail, then grabbed his wrists and pushed forward with all my weight to outstretch his arms.

    I only had a second to think before he''d find a way to break free of me, but that was all I needed. A small dagger, its polished gold hilt adorned with rubies, was partially hidden at his hip under a small flap of fraying linen. I let go of his off-hand, dropped even lower and grabbed it, then released his sword hand and pushed forward. In a blur of motion, I jammed the dagger into the thin gap between his helmet and breastplate just as his massive python of a left arm snapped at me again.

    A weary stumble backward was not enough to escape his wingspan, and with just his meaty index finger and thumb, he pinched my trachea. Those two iron sausages dug deep into the cavity behind my Adam''s Apple, pinching off my airway as easily as a mother pinches her son''s nose to dam a nosebleed. He made a grotesque gurgling sound at me, incomprehensible but brimming with venom nonetheless, as his own life''s spirit entwined with the patterns decorating his breastplate.

    Just as I prepared to see my own windpipe, his grip relaxed as he plummeted headfirst into the coast, sinking into it just a bit, and I was free again to breath ragged, choppy breaths. After a fit of coughing and rubbing at my throat, I looted his body, a vulture hungry for the treasure I could smell on him. Out of a compartment at his right hip, I pulled out a golden scroll with reverence, cupping it in my hands and lightly brushing my thumbs across its complex network of embossed vines. It was the first one I''d ever stolen, and it was mesmerizing, glowing as though the sun itself had been laid out in my still aching palms. I knelt there for some time, drinking its glow, and aches melted to memory with each moment. Eventually, I found it within myself to forfeit worship and tuck it into a satchel at my hip.

    My fugitive beetle-sword was stuck in a tree nearly twenty meters away, with traces of blood on and around it. Splintered branches and shredded leaves littered the area, but there were no signs of life--or death--anywhere. I yanked it out, apologized to anything I may have harmed in Dominaria Forest, and ran back to the lake''s edge.

    That was one hell of a fight, but now his castle is mine. It''ll need a little. . . cleanup, to say the least, but I just know this place is where my soul will anchor.

    A wellspring for my dreams.

    As I approached the castle, stepping over bodies like they were nothing more than fallen branches after a storm, a light, playful voice caught me off-guard.

    "Aww, I wanted to kill him."

    I spun, reflexively unsheathing my sword to flare wary steel. A woman emerged from behind bark, crossing her arms and leaning lazily against the tree she''d been using for cover. Her weapon was unattended, dangling at her hip with a similar laxness as her.

    "I was rooting for you to lose, but your fighting skills are impressive. You''re not like the others I¡¯ve run into around here," she continued, her gaze sharper than a blade fresh off the whetstone.

    My lips twitched as a cool breeze slid through thick trees. "Yeah. You seem. . . different, somehow.

    ¡°You seem real."

 Chapter 1

    "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

    I refuse to accept that mentality. Dreams are what drive us as humans; they''re how we strive past what we are today in search of a better tomorrow. What''s so fallible about getting a little lost now and again? Is the mundane acceptance of a linear path really a life worth living? I think not, and so I will continue to dream; I will get lost, and take my time finding the path back home.

    Dreams are the dwellings where one¡¯s true self lives.

    The corners of my lips curled up, like foxes cozying in a den, as I placed my fountain pen back in its holster. A paperweight at each corner of the protesting parchment shackled it in place as it set. The smell of wet ink filled my nostrils, lingering there, and I basked in the scent of freshly written wisdom.

    "It''s not a meal--you don''t need to savor it."

    I tilted my head backwards over the chair I was sitting on, and there she was: Maya, my beautiful, upside-down love, with her satin, chocolate hair contrasting flawless pale skin. She almost glowed in sunlight that crept through dancing curtains, gazing into my eyes through glimmering pools of deep blue with bursts of yellow around the pupils, like sunflowers gently floating in the ocean. She smiled and cupped a hand on each side of my head. I tensed my lips somewhere between a kiss and smile, but got a mouthful of rose-scented hair as she bit the tip of my nose and pulled back.

    "You thought I was going for a kiss, didn''t you?" she asked, words dancing in my ears. Her voice was like silk, smooth, rich and comforting, with a tug of temptation that could rival an apple stolen from Eden--when it wasn''t overripe with sarcasm, of course. It seems, today, the fruit has long expired.

    "Well, I certainly wasn''t expecting whatever that was. I don''t know where your enthusiasm comes from. . . the sun''s barely risen and you''re already so full of life. I hope you don''t spend it all before the day starts."

    She sneered at me. "I feel full of life right now. I''m ready to take on the world! You should be, too, if you want to succeed today. Say, what''d you write there?" Peering over my shoulder, she scrunched up her nose and read my excerpt. "When did you learn to write like this? I would''ve never expected it from you. Took you forever, though. I spied on you after I finished getting ready. "

    I lifted an eyebrow at that last bit. "I got a little sidetracked reminiscing about when I first met you. And it''s a lot easier for me to write than speak, so I''m not surprised you didn''t know. When I have time to brew my thoughts and words, it all comes together quite nicely. What do you think of it?"

    "It''s not bad," she replied with a subdued smile, tucking in her lips. "Just kidding. I absolutely love it. Are you gonna frame and hang it somewhere?"

    "Yeah, actually. I was thinking maybe we''d put it up over the bed? Just above the headboard, to the left of the lock. It seems like the most appropriate place for a piece about dreaming, don''t you think?"

    "Sounds good to me! Worry about that later, though--we have a lot do, today." With that, she was off before I could even open my mouth to respond.

    Rather hurriedly, I donned my armor. Pieced together from tough, white leather with an outer layer of gold scales on the torso and a black horn on each shoulder, it looked like the hide of an envied albino dragon. I''d never gotten around to decorating it with any accents or symbols; it was simple elegance from head to toe.

    I slung a steel longsword across my back and stormed out the door, hoping Maya hadn''t left me behind. Either it pleased her to be first, or my frustration made her giggle--likely, some concoction of the two.

    Unlike myself, our castle boasted no simplicity. It was a towering masterpiece standing roughly ten meters high, with a central main bailey that served as both our personal chambers and a lookout station. From the outside, layers of evenly cut buff stone, polished to a sheen, were stacked neatly and interlaced with veins of vine that crept upward the way water would trickle if gravity were inverted. I''d thought to weed them initially, but the odd, parasitic plants stayed a vibrant cobalt year round that lent a sense of life to the cold stone. Notched parapets lined every bailey, giving the castle a regal, jigsaw appearance.

    The interior, however, was far less modest. I descended a granite staircase lined with the finest embroidered rug in our possession, a tongue of crimson and gold, connected the main bailey at its base to the great hall. It was a long building, adorned with mementos of adventures past, that was intended to house dozens of a royal family. I couldn''t help but feel satisfaction, despite having seen it hundreds of times. Tapestries and various treasures far from home littered the walls, hereditary plunders like the dual scythes of Tryst, dishonored by their relocation, or the Granymede royal crest carved painstakingly into jade. Jade was a fitting medium for the jaded old man they worshipped as God-Emperor, but it turns out he was more emperor than God.

    Chandeliers three meters wide hung from the vaulted ceilings of each section. Rather than being fixed with crystal, we''d cut and shaped pendants from the armor of slain enemies, polishing the steel until it reflected walls so brilliantly it almost looked to be transparent. A few were ebony, or obsidian, or cobalt, demanding attention just as the men who''d worn them had. The way they glimmered in candlelight was truly a magnificent sight; a thousand metal fireflies reflecting off one another, flittering and recounting tales of war. Tales of loss.

    As I walked through the main hall, which connected the entrance hall with the dining room and great hall, something caught my eye: a small, ornate dagger on a marble pedestal, its blade and rubies stained with blood and dirt. Waves of nostalgia crashed over me again. Unfortunately, my moment of reminisce was short-lived, as it often was.

    "YOU ARE SO. SLOW."

    Two wooden doors that towered over me split away as I pushed forward, daylight spilling into the entrance hallway. Downhill, toward the tree-lined main gate, Maya was pacing near the armory. It was a fifteen meter tower sitting along the eastern edge of Lake Augr--yes, the castle courtyard contained a lake. A small one, perhaps, but a lake nonetheless, bound in a sandstone pavilion flanked by great pines and little brushstrokes of flora that popped under sunlight.

    Maya called out to me again, jumping in the air and waving her arms around madly. "Come on! I have a surprise for you!"

    I approached cautiously, peeking my head into each of the archways that leapt along the coastline lest a ''surprise'' catch me unaware.

    "Come over here already, child! You''re gonna love this. I swear, I''m not screwing around with you. This time."

    Inside the armory, she was standing near our forge. A shortsword with a blade of incredible sapphire blue was in her hands--one that nearly matched her eyes, but leaned closer to indigo. The hilt was made of buffered obsidian, streaks of silver swirling through it as if somehow smelted and laced with ivory, with a large pearl embedded in the triangular pommel. Its cross-guard was shaped to look like a bat''s spread wings, intricate attention to detail placed on recreating the frail ''fingers'' a real bat would have.

    "Is that my surprise?" I asked, wondering if she somehow didn''t know of my. . . distaste for bats. And other things that prowl in the night.

    "No, silly, this is my sword. Why would I make something this amazing for you? I think I''m going to call it Vesper, and take it out into battle today. Pretty sexy, right?"

    "It''s certainly well-crafted. Too flashy for my tastes, but it suits your style well."

    "God, you take all of this so seriously." The words sounded harsh, but nothing in her features betrayed malice. Instead she was beaming, grinning with glee, and let out a little squeal of excitement. "I can''t wait to go out and fight. Vesper is hungry for battle, and as its mother, I am obligated to feed it! How''d you like that line? Maybe I should be the one writing. . ."

    "The closest you''ll get is riding me about being too slow. Anyway, is that all? If so, we should get going. It''s already quite late."

    Her lips pursed as she clearly fought back a smile, bobbing up and down, ever so slightly shifting weight between her toes and heels. I stared her right in the eyes and raised my eyebrows. Does she really think this is subtle?

    After a few moments, she burst out with a giggle. "Okay, okay, I''m not that mean. I made something for you, too--I know you mentioned disliking fun, but we''re badasses, and a badass needs a unique look. Besides--I think you''re gonna like it. I tried to tailor it to you."

    She pulled a longsword out from behind the stone hearth; it was sheathed, but even the hilt was eye-catching. It was a stunning gold, with accents of forest green running over its grip in a crisscross pattern of emerald vines. The cross-guards curved toward the blade up until the tips, which redirected sharply in the opposite direction. At each end sat the head of an ancient Chinese dragon. The detail was painstaking; sets of miniature teeth, nostrils with pearl tendrils hanging from them, scales running down its back, and eyes of ruby.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    My eyes were glued to the work of art before me. "Maya. . .. this is amazing. You made this for me? The detail you put into it. . . this must have taken you forever."

    "I did make it, just for you. It took a little while to design, yeah, but I had a feeling that you''d fall in love with it. Unsheathe it, silly."

    I drew the blade from its pitch black sheath, a sharp, metallic screech bouncing between stone walls and lingering faintly for a moment before silence fell. The blade looked just like jade, layered and marbled shades of green with streaks of cream--yet, somehow, it kept the metallic sheen of steel. I broke the silence with a gasp as the blade caught sun, drinking light like a parched desert traveler before tossing it haphazardly around the room.

    "Too flashy, or do you think you can live with it?" she asked with a sly smile. "C''mon, take it out into battle with me today."

    My gaze shifted from the sword to Maya for a moment, before returning it. "I think that, for this, I can make an exception to my rule. It''s magnificent."

    "Yes!" she hissed, pumping her fists. "By the way, that blade has a special function. You see those little red buttons where the cross-guard meets the grip on each side? They''re hidden a bit, so you don''t accidentally push them."

    "Yeah, I think I see them. What are they for?"

    "Well, hold the sword away from your face and push one."

    "I feel like I should know what will happen before pushing one, for. . . basic safety purposes?"

    "Stop complaining and push one of the damn buttons."

    I held the blade up cautiously, hesitating to push either button. "Does it matter which one I push?"

    "They do the same thing, I only put a button on each side so you always have access to one."

    I squinted my eyes, pulling my head as far back from the sword as I could.

    Click.

    A needle-like blade sprang forth from the jaws of each beast, and I jolted at the feeling. My reaction prompted stifled laughter from Maya, ever amused with herself. The blades were narrow, but fairly long--they extended about fifteen centimeters past the dragon''s head.

    "Okay, that is definitely the kind of flashy I''m not a fan of. I suppose it could come in handy, but it just seems like a risky addition." Maya stuck her tongue out at me. "How do I get the blades back in?"

    She squinted her eyes and sheepishly laughed, rubbing the back of her head. "Well, you see, uh. . . I haven''t really had the time to get that far. You kinda just have to. . . push them back in, with a stick or something. I swear, I''ll work something out later!"

    I sighed, grabbing a scrap of wood off the floor and stuffing the blades back into the beasts'' mouths like an overbearing mother feeding her children. "We don''t have time now, but tomorrow I''d rather you just remove the feature than continue to work on it. I swear, if I lose an eye to this thing. . ."

    "Hmph. Well, as long as you don''t suck enough to point it at your own eye and press the button, you''ll be fine. Give it a spin today, and if you really hate it, I''ll take it out."

    "Fine. I really do appreciate the work you put into this, though. Let''s get going so I can test it out."

    I tossed my old sword into a trunk by the entrance and slung its replacement on my back. The weight was nice, and it felt at home.

    "By the way," Maya asked, "what''re you gonna name it?"

    "I don''t name my swords, you know that."

    She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, quit that already. You have to name something as exquisite as that sword! Think of it as your payment for my work."

    Hand ruffling through my short beard, I mulled on it a moment.

    "How about. . . L¨®ngsword?" I suggested, chuckling.

    "What a shitty name! Why would you name your longsword ''Longsword''? That''s actually the worst thing I''ve ever heard you say."

    "Not ''Longsword'', L¨®ngsword. ''L¨®ng'' is Mandarin for ''dragon''."

    Maya stared at me blankly, each slow blink a statement of her displeasure. She raised Vesper toward me, one eyebrow lifting well above the other.

    "Okay, okay, sorry. . . I guess I''ll just name it Somnior."

    "What is that, Mandarin for ''I suck at naming things''? Whatever, enough chit-chat. Let''s get going!"

    I let out an exasperated sigh at the floor, then grabbed a map and ran after her. Yeah, let''s not forget this and get lost in Zoxum, of all places. I swear, what would she do without me? Waltz into the sun, probably.

    Lake Augr was an oil painting, the sun''s scattered reflection across its soft, rippling surface. A hint of green lurked deep within, just enough to give it life. It''s almost noon if I can see the sun without much stretch to it. We really need to get moving.

    Maya was waiting at the main gate, forcefully tapping her left foot against the dirt so I would hear it.

    "Don''t give me that look. Though I admit, we''re running late today." I glanced toward the midday sun.

    "Oh, good! You brought the map. I totally forgot about it."

    "Did you, now? Anyway, Zoxum''s eastern border is about ten kilometers from here. If we pace ourselves well, we can get there in under two hours."

    "Well, let''s get going then! You navigate and I''ll keep an eye out for danger. I need to feed my poor, hungry Vesper."

    #

    Dominaria Forest was an expansive sea of thick, knotted trees and flora that rustled with the movements of diverse wildlife. It stretched out as far as the eye can see, in some directions. Thankfully, our castle sat right on the eastern edge of it, still protected by its thick foliage without needing to traverse it for more than a few kilometers when heading at least partially north.

    Compass and map in hand, we waded northwest through grassy woodlands dusted with cyan moss, hacking at dense, prickly brush that brandished tiny orange scimitars at us, and swatting away insects that glimmered like frantic gemstones caught in a whirlwind. Overhead swayed a canopy like a fancy salad dressed with yellow sunlight; in what effectively an eternal spring, the tree''s leaves were caught in a transfixing dichotomy of youthful greens and aged auburn. Most of the wildlife had mild temperaments, scampering and scurrying up trees and into shrubbery as we stomped by. For this, I was thankful. Wasting our energy in the forest would become a handicap later on.

    Please, please tell me she''s sleeping right now.

    As if the trees could read my thoughts, the canopy overhead shifted, the sunlight poking through gaps in leaves no longer swaying calmly against dirt and roots. Maya and I quickly drew our swords and looked up, following the rustling intently.

    "Do you think it''s her?" Maya whispered to me, her eyes maintaining focus on the treetops.

    Before I could answer, a shadowy blur fell toward the dirt in front of us with a loud thud and a dusty wave of leaves. I raised Somnior, adrenaline coursing through me. Its back was turned to us, and I was not going to waste any time.

    "WAIT!" Maya screeched as I advanced toward the beast. "Don''t hurt it, or I swear, I''ll kill you!"

    I tensed, falling to the ground as my momentum suddenly halted. Shock is extremely unpleasant when you''re pumping with adrenaline and fear, like dumping baking soda into a bowl of mixed acids.

    "Why did you stop me?" I spat with venomous anger. "I had an opening!"

    "Shut up! You''ll scare it! Oh my goodness, oh my goodness. . . okay, calm down, Maya." She slowly walked over to the animal, which stood at least a full head higher than her. Its black, slightly furry body was now turning around, slowly rotating to face us.

    You''ve got to be kidding me.

    Not twenty feet away from me stood an enormous brown bat. It shrunk back slightly as Maya approached it, despite having the size advantage. She held her hand out, coaxing and cooing it with a soothing voice, then reached in her pack and pulled out something that was a shiny red.

    "Hey, buddy, you want an apple? You look like a fruit bat, you want an apple? Come on, go ahead and have it!"

    It looked at her with massive eyes, glossy black like the polished obsidian of her pommel, and a furry face snouted in the same manner a dog or fox would be. There was a long slash of striated, sheen skin running across its dark, matte belly, a twisting of lighter flesh knotted like vine.

    "Careful, Maya. . . it''s seen battle and survived, that''s no defenseless animal."

    The bat slowly craned its head toward her extended hand, and Maya continued to encourage it. "Yeah, come on big guy. Just a little closer. . . there you go!"

    It bit down on the apple and pulled back, grabbing it with claws the length of my palm and nibbling ferociously with complete disregard for its seedy core. Within seconds, the apple''s existence was erased. Maya approached the bat further, and it slowly dropped its head down to her. She giggled as a long, pink tongue lurched from its mouth and lapped at her fingers and face.

    "See? Not every animal is scary, Reza. This is just a cute fruit bat! Look at his sweet face." She turned toward me, still petting the bat. "Apologize right now. You almost killed him!"

    "Well he dropped from the sky, and you know what lives here. . . I was startled, you can''t blame me."

    Maya was giving me that blank stare again, slowly blinking in waves from one eye to the next. This time, her left eyebrow was raised and her arms were crossed. It''s amazing how many physical variations of ''annoyed'' that woman could conjure.

    I sighed and threw my arms up. "Okay, okay. . . sorry, bat. Can we go now, Maya? We''ve wasted enough time here."

    "See, Mr. Bat? He''s so boring, but you''re so cute and fun, yes you are! I have to go now, but you stay safe out here, okay?" She patted its head again, laughing as it licked at her fingers.

    We set forth into the dense greenery once more, increasing our pace. After a few moments, I turned back to find the beast watching us fade into the thick, twisting underbrush, a curious head slightly cocked as if to ask what the rush was.

 Chapter 2

    If God is real, why did He create bugs? A loving creator--a loving Father--would not be so cruel as to breathe life into such disgusting creatures. I wonder, if He is real, and He did make bugs. . . what was He thinking? What would possess Him to make a six-legged, slimy, filthy, buzzing demon that refuses to die and can lay eggs in your ears? Do they find some instinctual joy, as they zoom around through the air, trying so hard to lodge themselves in my throat? Why--

    Something rough and hard slammed into my face, disrupting thoughts and balance alike. The earth was fertile beneath me, as it should be in an eternal spring, and a quick brush of my hands left kitten scratches of dirt across my palms that dried almost instantly. The scent of mineral, leaf and dampness filling the forest, like cold air, was collected closer to ground level and stung my sinuses.

    "Did you actually just run into a branch? So much for ''attentiveness''." She forced one eye shut, a true parody of a wink, before continuing forward without even bothering to offer a hand.

    Upon regaining my posture, the extent of my spill''s repercussions became apparent. There were brown smears across the whole of my left leg, and a chunk of soil had wedged into my scales, ruining its regality. Without thought, I raked a careful hand against my chestplate, only pressing the mud further into the scaling, leaving me with a fistful of dirt and an emblem of shit on my chest. I was a self-proclaiming king of refuse.

    In the mountain of filth that had re-accumulated in my hand, something poked out of it, as an old woman might hobble out of her front door to wave nuisance children off with a broom. The mud catapulted as my inner monkey came forth, disregarding where it might land, and I let out a disgusted half-grunt, half-shout. My arms flailed and I swatted at my body, every bead of sweat suddenly feeling like the mucus of a living creature gliding across my skin.

    Maya noticed my helpless shouts and ran to me, sword raised. I matched her sword with a palm.

    "I''m fine, it was nothing. Just my imagination."

    She halted, sheathing her sword, and gave me a narrow-eyed stare. Her arms went up in defeat.

    "You threw a hissy-fit like that for no reason at all? I don''t believe you." My eyes shifted to the slight bobbing of pink on the tree next to her, and she poked at it with her finger. A little, pink worm was wriggling around in it, confused by the state of its new, airborne home. "Wait--are you scared of bugs?"

    "No. Of course I''m not. They''re just tiny little insects. They can''t hurt me. I know that. What does it matter?"

    "This worm''s kinda cute, why don''t you take a look at it?" She gently pulled the worm from its home, once again upturning its world, and dangled it in front of me. Despite my best efforts, I recoiled in disgust.

    "Get it away from me."

    "Well, that''s good to know. Here, I''ll get rid of the worm--but now I know your weakness, Superman. You better not piss me off, or I''ll stuff your pillow full of maggots and centipedes."

    All I could muster in response was a weak croak. It took everything within me not to retch as an image of the little slimy noodle inched across my mind, squelching and stretching, stretching and squelching. . .

    I really, really didn''t want her to know about that. . .

    Maya cast the worm aside and for a brief moment, it soared through the air, experiencing flight just as the bird that eats it would. With a tiny splat, it smacked into a tree--abruptly ending the Adventures of a Clueless Worm. I eyed it, hesitating to make the first move.

    She rolled her eyes at me before continuing forward. "Come on already, stop being so dramatic and keep walking. We''re almost out of the forest."

    I straightened myself and looked overhead. It was hard to see past such a thick canopy, but I was able to make out roughly where the sun was by a concentration of yellow poking through the matted net of rust and emerald. She''s right, it''s probably six hours until nightfall. We need to work extremely quickly once we get to Zoxum.

    Thankfully, we cut through the rest of the forest with ease and a pleasant lack of interruptions. Dominaria''s tangling of vegetation ends rather abruptly, withering into a vast ocean of sand dotted with blue cacti and arid trees that stretches to the horizon--very aptly (and somewhat unimaginatively) named the Endless Desert. We''re still not sure how a forest can exist right along the edge of a wasteland, but one thing is certain--trying to cross it on foot would be suicide. Which is a shame, because rumor has it that, at the other end, there are mountains frosted with pink snow and exotic fruits so sweet your teeth rot overnight.

    And at the nexus of these two biomes, a fault between blossom and wither, lied an oblong skull twice the size of our castle. Time had weathered the bone to a dirty brown, dulling the teeth and flattening the eye sockets. Inside it was a city, and as for why anyone would live in the bones of a monster, I cannot say. Perhaps they were just the dying thoughts of a stubborn Titan desperately clinging to the world.

    The skullcap was shaved thin, looking like parchment stretched over the city, letting sun''s light in with less heat. There was a thin black line wrapping the bone, like a hairband stretched over it, dotted with red. It was an uncomfortable, eerie sight, and to further the mystery, there was no trace of the beast''s body in sight.

    Luckily for us, Zoxum''s dead keep was built with its snout kissing the forest--or, maybe, that was how the gargantuan had died, burning under the sun and snapping at the forest for a bit of shade. The forward wall stood twenty feet high, sealing the creature''s slightly opened jaw, but there were also entrances at the north and south borders--since the west faces the Endless Desert, perhaps they saw no need in making it accessible. Or maybe they just ran out of resources for another gate.

    I motioned to Maya, beckoning her to follow me, approaching Zoxum''s southern edge. There was a watchtower guarding the east, short, erected in the nasal cavity. It did not look sturdy, made of bound logs instead of stone. Either they''re confident, idiots, or. . . they ran out of resources. It''s really hard to tell with these guys.

    As we neared the seam between sand and wood, I grabbed Maya and pulled her behind a mossy boulder, finger pressed to my lips. My eyes motioned toward the scouting party returning from deep within Dominaria Forest. There were five, all covered from head to toe in absurd, red and black armor. Yeah, I''m beginning to think they''re just lacking for intelligence--which is a resource, in a way. What kind of camouflage is that, when you live in-between a forest and desert? And BLACK armor, under this harsh sun?! . . .no, quiet your thoughts. Focus.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "We can use this as an opening. Let''s take them out swiftly, drag them out of sight, and use their equipment to masquerade as the survivors of an ambush. They''ll let us in, and we can work from there," I whispered to her, keeping an eye on the scouts.

    A huge smile swept over her face, and we slid from behind the rock back into the forest, hooking behind them. We each took to one side of the group, slinking low with swords drawn until within ten feet. In the distance, the massive stone gate ground against sand as it swung. Our eyes met, and a synchronized nod set us in motion.

    Like a receding hairline, the forest thinned nearing the desert. Before the party could get there, we leapt forward, each hacking the head off the two rear guards. Crumpling armored bodies alerted the three further up, but by then, our blades had skewered the throats of two more, streaking the brilliant blades with streams of black blood. The final warrior dropped his sword and ran like a frightened deer, Maya immediately taking pursuit.

    "Maya, you have to kill him or he''ll alert the town," I shouted with the lowest possible voice I could. She continued toward the forest edge, gaining on him, nearing withing leaping distance, then. . . suddenly stopped and turned to me.

    "He got away," she said with a smile. I was staring at her, mouth agape.

    "Maya, the entire city knows we''re attacking now. It was an insane mission to begin with, but this. . ."

    "It''ll be fine! It''s more fun this way," she said in a playful tone. "I hate sneaking around."

    I lifted my face from the cup I''d made of my hands. "You. . . you let him go?"

    "Yep! You''re so boring and stealthy, I hate it. Sorry! You''re gonna have your work cut out for you today, mister."

    I sighed deeply, looking to the ground and locking eyes with a mouse taking cover under a bit of shrubbery. You seem like a nice mouse. One that wouldn''t try to make my life more difficult than it needs to be.

    The rodent scurried across my boot, leaving behind a thin streak of urine.

    "Well, we''ve come this far already and if we retreat, they''ll just build their defenses even further. . . so I guess I have no choice now. Damn it, Maya. Let''s go."

    She giggled, jogging backwards ahead of me. "Count how many you take down. I bet I''ll beat you."

    I rolled my eyes without a word, but she knew I''d participate in the contest. I detest losing a challenge with her--she''s an insufferable winner, but a quiet loser.

    The eastern entrance was blocked with a massive stone gate that swung out from a single hinge; one massive slab swinging toward the forest just enough for men to get in and out.They must''ve only had the resources for one.

    "We need to get inside before that gate closes, or we''re not finding a way in," I shouted to Maya as we closed in on the entrance. The gate was swinging shut now, men atop the wall cranking as hard as they could behind a shouting master and cracking whip. Somewhere deeper in the city, a booming, brassy horn blared.

    Maya leapt through the opening with ease, but I struggled to fit myself into such a tight space. In went my left leg, left arm, then my head and torso, and finally my right arm. My right foot, however, was caught in the door. Fearing a pancaked foot, I yanked as hard as I could, pushing against the door with my arms. Just as the gate squeezed shut, crushing the metal like a piece of parchment, my foot popped out of its boot and I stumbled free. Looking back, I saw the faint, flattened remnants of it sticking out from between the gate and wall like a freshly minted coin, letting out a nervous chuckle. Maya shook her head in disappointment at the sight of my now bare foot, protected only by a sandy sock dangling from my toes.

    Why does the ground have to be so hot? I hate sand. It''s coarse, and rough, and. . .

    Paying too much attention to my searing foot, I failed to notice how many soldiers were gathering in the courtyard. Zoxum was a rather bland keep on the inside except for its creepy, milky bone sky. The city itself was of plain sandstone buildings laid out in repetition from edge to edge. The city was designed around an enormous tree with thousands of matted branches fanning out from a single, stocky trunk. It was like a wooden mushroom from the underside, with a top of green needles that let no light through. Twelve main roads stemmed out from it, like tick marks on a clock. A myriad of cookie-cutter structures filled the spaces between roads in straight, even rows. We were in the eastern courtyard, a massive and wide open stretch of sandy flooring with nothing to hide behind. It looked more like someone had taken a bite out of the cityscape than it did a place to gather and relax.

    "Well, Maya, I hope you''re satisfied," I said under my breath, looking in every direction as a tornado of black and red swirled around us.

    "They kinda look like bugs, don''t they?" Maya joked to me, our backs against each other.

    "Are you trying to kill me before the fight even starts?"

    "More for me."

    We were rotating slowly, backs touching, scanning the rooftops and doorways as soldiers jeered and gestured at us. They almost seemed to be crawling, the way they circled around us.

    "Don''t get cocky, now, Maya. This won''t be easy like it was when we conquered the castle at Garavax. I can''t even count how many soldiers there are." She was too busy howling back at the screeching swarm to pay me any mind.

    The swirling stopped, and the soldiers quieted. "Get ready, Maya. They''re coming for us, now. Break for the building to my left and we''ll try to control a rooftop, forcing them to funnel into us."

    The silence was tarnished only by the sound of metal boots grinding sand beneath them. No longer swirling, the hurricane had ended, and we were in the storm''s eye. The sun had crept well past its zenith, judging by the brightest smudge overhead. We have another four hours at best to get back. Shit.

    We braced ourselves, but still, they did not come. They did not shout or growl or stomp their feet. What had once been a swirling black turned into stillness, like the night descending upon us. I gulped, tightening my grip on Somnior, which was lamenting the lack of sunlight to bathe in.

    The tension snapped so hard you could hear it, like a twig crushed underfoot.

    A pile of soldiers blocking off the eastern entrance launched forward. We broke off toward the building I''d pointed out, barreling at the entrance. I slammed my shoulder into a Zoxan trying to intercept me from the right, casting him to the ground and tripping the incoming soldiers behind him. Maya lowered and twirled, threading her blade through the throats of two blocking the doorway.

    We shoved inside, hearing a sea of footsteps pounding the ground behind us. There was a stairway just ahead, and another Zoxan came stumbling down it. I merely needed to sidestep him and he crashed into the ground behind me, leaving us with an opening to scramble upstairs.

    There were five on the rooftop, somehow caught off-guard by our approach despite seeing us enter the building, as if we''d died the second we left their sight. Steel clanged as the brutish beasts clumsily tried to swing their greatswords from their sheaths. Getting around their blows and slipping our blades through the gaps in their armor was a simple task, leaving five more dead. We quickly piled their bodies into the stairway, hoping to slow the incoming swarm.

    I think that''s four for me, and three for Maya. I better pick up the pace or I''ll lose again.

    The bodies jammed into the stairway exit clinked around as Zoxans below tried to force past them. My right foot was throbbing now, raw--even the sock I''d had on was gone.

    "Thank God they don''t have ranged weapons," Maya joked. "We''re sitting ducks here. A few terrible archers could pick us off."

    We pressed our backs together once more, staring out into the restless sea of swirling soldiers running through the city like an obsidian flood. Watching the journey of ten thousand ants, faintly glimmering in the muted, high sun.

    "Ready?" Maya asked me.

    "No," I replied, my mail clinking against hers. "But I''ll do it anyway."

 Chapter 3

    Ninety-seven. Nice, I managed to skewer the guy behind him. Ninety-nine. God, there''s so many of them, we could be here way longer than I originally planned. . .

    I glanced up to a milky sky. The sun smudge was halfway down the skullcap''s rear, leaving us with approximately two hours left in Zoxum to get home comfortably, perhaps three if we sprinted.

    "Maya, we need to pick up the pace. Do you see the King anywhere? He''s probably hiding, but there''s a chance he''ll come out and watch the battle," I shouted, removing my sword from the armpit of a Zoxan.

    "Give me a second! Cover me," she hollered back. After decapitating the one in front of her, Maya ran to the corner of our building and stacked several dead bodies on top of each other, standing on them.

    "I''m going to be a bit occupied over here, so just let me know if you see something. Try and make it quick, please."

    As gullible as ever. One hundred and thirty-three, one hundred and thirty-four. . .

    It was getting hard to maneuver around the dead bodies littering our rooftop arena. We''d been trying to push as many off as possible, but with the constant refreshing of soldiers it was just not possible to keep up. I began to fumble, my bare foot being caught and cut, burning on the tiling of black armor that was sucking in sunlight like a garden of iron Black Cat Petunias. I was slaughtering the Zoxan forces with ease, but the dead were finding a way to fight back.

    I was forced back to the ledge, near Maya''s little corpse outpost. From a perimeter viewpoint, it became clear that the roof was sagging slightly in the middle, buckling under the weight of a hundred dead men clad in mail and plate. I glanced right, down a row of homes and markets arranged like stepping stones, each building no more than eight feet from the next.

    "Any sign of the King yet?"

    She kept her vision focused, squinting hard beneath an unnecessary hand on her brow. "I think I see him. There''s a caravan about 150 meters away, to the right of their central tower. I can''t see it well, but it looks pretty fancy from here. We should head there first."

    "Well, we better get moving now. They''re starting to come through faster than I can fight them, and the roof''s giving out. I have an idea, though--this time, I''ll need you to fend them off a bit while I work."

    She hopped down from her step-stool and smiled at me. "Don''t mind if I do."

    Well, there goes my lead.

    We hacked away at the few I hadn''t gotten to yet, hopping from corpse to corpse the way a child might avoid stepping on cracks in stone.

    "When I tell you to, jump over to the building next to us. You might want to sheathe your sword--it''s not going to be an easy one."

    I hopped to the center of our rooftop, lifted my sword high into the air, and plunged it straight down with all my strength. It was only enough to cause a small crack around the point of impact, but with tons of dead Zoxans pushing down on it, that fracture quickly expanded. Within seconds, it was branching out like a flash of lightning, cracking like thunder, and I signaled to Maya for our retreat.

    She knocked back her foe, fumbled with something on the ground and we bolted across the rooftop, bouncing from Zoxan to Zoxan, before leaping to the next building.

    Of course, Maya had not sheathed her sword before making the jump--and, of course, she cleared the gap with little issue. I, however, slammed my chest into the ledging and barely managed to cling on. A chorus of howling came from below me as Zoxans piled against the wall and tried to hack at my dangling toes.

    "Maybe next time you should try jumping with your sword out," Maya mocked me, looming over my dangling body. Thankfully she didn''t gloat for long before dragging me up.

    "I lost my footing, since I¡¯m missing a damn boot now." I looked down at the naked foot, crusted in a mixture of blood and sand that almost looked like footwear.

    Maya grinned at me, beaming with pride, holding up a red boot. "I even took his sock off. You owe me one."

    My foot sang a song of praise and salvation as I equipped it. I stood up, shifting around to settle it in its new home. The current of Zoxan soldiers shifted toward us, but some were still climbing into the previous building. Five, ten, fifteen more scrambled up onto the roof, and with thunderous crack of stone splitting, it caved in. The dead came crashing down upon the living, along with a hundred tons of rubble. The sides of the building blew out and toppled over, which couldn''t have been any worse a fate for the tightly-packed stream of Zoxans around it.

    A cloud of debris and sand kicked into the air, rushing over us at our new outpost. I shot Maya a satisfied look, hands on my hips, and chuckled. "What is that? Probably at least a hundred, right? Damn, I''m good. I should win because of that alone."

    She fired a squint-eyed sneer at me. "Shut up. They seem to struggle with rooftops, so we should try to hop across this row of buildings for now, then cross over to the next row once most of them fall behind. Try not to fall and die along the way, will you?"

    "I think I can manage, now that I have this new boot."

    We took off, soaring through the air between stony buildings. I was barely making each jump, wobbling and stumbling as I tried to find footing on the ledges with a sore sole and loose boot, but I was getting by on my own nonetheless.

    One Zoxan actually had the foresight to try and cut us off, climbing onto a building we hadn''t yet reached. Still, he was no match for me--I slid down and swept his legs from under him without losing much momentum, taking care of the problem without wasting any time. A pained howl cut through the air as his left arm hit the ground palm-first and inverted at the elbow.

    "We''re getting closer, but we shouldn''t jump down until the horde is further behind us," Maya shouted over her shoulder, hair whipping behind her. "Just follow me."

    After leaping across three more buildings, Maya dropped to the ground, buckling her knees, rolling across the sand and springing back to her feet. I followed suit, albeit far less gracefully and with more. . . crashing. I stumbled, regaining my bearings with a groan, and we ran into a building two rows over.

    Up the stairs we climbed, through the roof, and we were once again jumping from building to building. With my semi-heavy mail, the fighting, leaping, and heat were starting to slow me down. I stopped for a moment to look back, hundreds of Zoxans swarming in between buildings, plunging from rooftops to be trampled in a stream of their own allies.

    I wonder, is all that black staining the earth of this city just armor, or blood?

    The caravan was soon close enough to see clearly; a series of elephants with canopies on their backs, fashioned from silver and dressed in exotic tapestries of green, donned with gold frills and blue gems. The poor beasts had their tusks sharpened to a deadly point, and the largest of them was dead center in the caravan.

    "Maya, let''s hop onto the nearest one in his row and cut through to the center. If we''re on equal grounds with him, no one can stop us."

    "Good plan, I''ll try to swing around from the other side if I can," she shouted, bounding over a building. "Oh, one more thing."

    "Yes, dear?"

    She made a sloppy heart shape with her hands and smiled as wide as she physically could. "If you hurt the elephants, I''ll kill you."

    I sighed and left the safe stability of solid ground, landing on a bobbing animal, its rough skin speckled with thin, wispy hairs that were damn near invisible. Its back was the size of my personal quarters, a spine thick and knurled like an oak root raised and splitting it in two sections. Though it had nearly no forward momentum, each step was accompanied by a crash and sway that carried through my body. There was a rhythm to the beast''s gait, as if it were the beating heart of a stone giant long since lost to the world. Jarring as it was initially, I quickly adapted to the ebb and crash and flow, dancing with vectors as I charged the Zoxan crew aboard.

    Warriors manning each elephant were clad in black garb with crimson, leather plate atop it, matching Somnior''s slick coating. On each chestpiece was a swirling sun as black as their blood, and bladed quarterstaffs replaced ordinary broadswords. They looked magnificent, menacing and powerful, but they charged at me like children wielding sticks and fell in mere seconds.

    It''s pathetic how poorly trained these soldiers are, down to the rear guard.

    I jumped onto the caravan''s heart, slicing at the tapestries hanging between me and the King. Two more grunts charged, armed with double-sided staves taller than me. A challenge had presented itself at last, and it was welcome.

    Just as the excitement settled in, I heard the familiar war cry of an overexcited Maya explode from behind them. Turbulence kickstarted with a trumpeting cry as weight shifted to the beast''s opposite side, knocking me flat on my back and sending the two guards stumbling forward. They tripped over their obscenely large staves, dropping them in panic to free their hands. It didn''t take long for the quaking to end, and when it did, two defenseless soldiers scrambled toward me without even grabbing their weapons. I cut through them much like I did the room''s exterior cloth.

    "How disappointing," I sighed.

    Ahead, there was a lavish bed the size of a small room, lined with disheveled, silk textiles of red and gold. Black, velvet body pillows were strewn across it and the surrounding floor. Beyond that, there was nothing.

    Did he see us approaching and run?

    "I''ve got you now, King!"Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    I frantically ducked, just as a bat zipped over my head with blistering speed. Maya stumbled forward, pivoting abruptly on her left foot before spreading her arms and falling onto the bed as though that were the intention to begin with.

    "Don''t kill me!" I half pleaded, half spat.

    "Oh, sorry. I got kinda carried away there." She let out a light chuckle, then sat up and looked around the tent. "Aww, did you already get him? That''s lame. . ."

    "He''s not here. There were just a couple guards, like every other tent I cut through. This one actually had fewer men in it, now that I think about it."

    She chewed on my words for a moment. "It''s probably a decoy, then. Clever guy, this King. You think there''s another caravan on the other side of this city?"

    A blazing trumpet blared through the city air, lingering like kicked dust as a definitive answer to her question. We ran out of the tent, and hopped back onto the buildings for a proper view.

    Oh, my. . .

    There was an ocean of Zoxan knights standing at attention, a black hemisphere immediately behind the city''s center tree. After several moments of silently gazing at the sea of glimmering death, Maya and I nodded to each other and set off for its shore.

    At its forefront stood a man, taller than the rest, leaning against the towering trunk--but as we approached, it became increasingly clear that it was not a man, per se. Thick, black fur fanned out from its body, with the facial structure of a mountain bear. Thin streaks of red accentuated the beast''s cheekbones, running vertically from eye to jaw. It was wearing a bright robe that looked just like the tapestries we''d seen atop the elephants, with a gold crown that was spiked the way a serrated knife would be. A large steel greatsword with a dark orange handle and pommel shaped like the sun was pointed into the ground, the King shifting away from the tree and leaning into it like a walking stick.

    Wind struggled to whip sand through air thick with tension as we stood not thirty feet away.

    "So you''re at the front line, eh? I expected you to be cowering in a tent, surrounded by guards. I''m not sure if you''re bold, arrogant, or just a fool." I threw my words at it like daggers, set to gash even the tough hide of a King''s pride.

    "A good leader should lead, no?" he responded with a thick, growling voice, heavily weighted with an unfamiliar accent. "You will battle me, not these measly drones. Clearly, even with numbers on their side, they are too stupid for skilled fighters such as yourselves; slaves have a limit to their purpose, I suppose."

    Maya contorted her face, taking a step forward. "Slaves? You call your citizens--your soldiers, dying for you--slaves? What''s wrong with you?"

    "Silly girl, these are beasts bound to me--not some troop of free men. They do as I say, without hesitation or regret; they are nothing but my will made real. Watch, if you don''t believe me." He pointed to a soldier behind him and snapped his fingers.

    The Zoxan skewered a soldier to its right, opening a spigot from its neck. Not a soul stirred in the battalion as the slain soldier crashed forward without a single yelp or groan; an army of stone men carved hollow.

    Maya was gritting her teeth, fists clenched and shaking. "Then we''ll just kill you and set them free. People like you don''t deserve power."

    The king let out a hearty, bellowing laugh that filled the city streets. He stepped forward from underneath the tree''s near solid canopy, out of the shade and into reddening light that left his face-lines blazing.

    "Let me ask you something, girl. What is ''power''? Is it merely something temporary, whether handed to you or plundered with force, or is true power something much deeper than that? Something that can''t be taken, or subdued despite all efforts.

    ¡°Is ''power'' truly power if it can be stolen, like a chest of gold or fine, silk sheets? I think not. These men aren''t bought, or broken and trained. Their very existence is owned. I am their God, and nothing you do will change that. I--"

    With a massive squelch, roughly three liters of a viscous, chunky liquid rained down on the King, drenching his robe and soaking into his soul. He remained frozen, mid-speech and mouth agape as if the words were stuck in his throat, choking him.

    The stench. . . it''s nauseating.

    "For a guy that talks a lot of shit, you sure don''t wear it well," I quipped at his unmoving body, statuesque like the army of slaves he''d bred.

    "Reza, look! Up there!"

    I traced the path of Maya''s finger. Two bats were circling overhead, looming above us like swirling stormclouds. As they passed in front of the low sun-smudge, orange light punched through the thin membranes of their veiny wings, exposing all the bones in their arms twisting and gyrating with each wild flap.

    Well, I guess I can''t complain. That''s some serious aim on their part, though.

    The bats swooped down and began plowing through the crowd, knocking beasts about. They couldn''t drag any of them very far, but the commotion brewed chaos amongst the once serene soldiers. After a few attacks, the bats began grabbing debris from the building we''d downed and dropping it on the army, poking holes in their ranks. Their formation was crumbling like a smashed sandstone building.

    The back of the city-skull was painted a reddish-purple, bruised on the horizon. Before I could urge our attack, Maya was already in motion.

    Swords drawn, we approached him with no trouble at all--he was vomiting, desperately trying to wipe the guano from his eyes and nose. After a venomous glare at us, and a glance back at his suddenly chaotic army, he ripped his sun-sword from the dirt. The blade shimmered an orange of sunrise.

    It was something of a dance, the way Maya operated when burning with fury. Twisting, she threw a dagger directly from her hip, then whipped another hand at him in a cyclone of graceful wrath. The King unsheathed his sword from the dirt, slicing the dagger out of the air, only to be caught in the chest by a second.

    He let out a wet cough of sticky blood that unraveled into crazed laughter. "You think these people are yours to take, to free--but they are not. I am their leader, silly girl. . . their only leader. Even in death, I will show you what power is.

    "It cannot be taken, child."

    He plunged the sword deep into the tree''s heart. It glowed in his bloody hand, sending pulses of light coursing through the trunk and up into a thick matting of branches. Like a struck match, brilliance pooled in the canopy, aqueous and shifting, then sank down. The tree turned to charcoal, collapsing in a tsunami of smoke.

    When all settled, where once a pillar of life stood, only a pile of swirling ash remained. It blew across the open courtyard and into the city''s veins. A single needle was all that was left, its green a sliver of life on dead sands. Every Zoxan within the sight had fallen on their swords, staining the sand like upturned inkwells, and the King was singed and crumpled. Maya cringed, the vicarious sorrow of ten thousand dead men in her eyes; that look of sadness, however, was quickly swallowed by burning anger. I barely managed to get out of the way as she pulled Vesper from the King''s body and hacked once more, leaving a furry head spurting blood several feet away, its hairs melted and curled.

    "You sick bastard," she muttered amidst labored breaths. "I wish I could kill you a thousand times."

    "It''s dishonorable and cowardly, but I don''t think we could''ve fought the rest of them." I wiped Somnior clean with a muffled gag. "Hey, Maya, would you want to take the scroll from him? I, uh, need to go. . . check something out over there."

    When she turned to protest, I''d already pulled off her signature move. Her eyes rolled back to the King, and she used her sword to part his shit-stained robes, revealing a small ornate box at his hip. I inched closer as it clicked open, revealing the gold and ebony scroll we''d come for.

    "Let me open it up and read it, just to make sure," I told her, holding out my hand. The parchment stretched about half a meter long, with just a few words in large font.

    He who holds this scroll,

    Has irrefutable evidence,

    That he claims this land, ZOXUM,

    As his own.

    ¡°You know, the language in these things could use some work, because a ¡®she¡¯ just killed his ass,¡± Maya said, pulling back from her perch near my shoulder.

    I retracted the scroll, handing it to Maya for safekeeping. "We can add an ¡®s¡¯ here and there for you. Now, the problem is: how do we get home in time? I don''t think it''s possible to run fast enough through that damned forest."

    She looked longingly to the sky as muted sunset light caressed her bloodstained face.

    "I have a feeling our new friends can help us out," she replied with a visage carved from stone.

    The two bats hovered low, gently grabbing each of us with a leathery claw. I glanced at Maya, making no effort to conceal the fear in my eyes.

    "You''ll be totally safe, Reza. Just. . . know that it''s going to be at bumpy ride. Their wings connect all the way down to their legs, so as their wings beat, we''re going to get kinda kicked around. It''ll be fine if you don''t struggle."

    "Lovely. I''ll make sure to turn toward you when the time comes for me to vomit." My gaze turned to the setting sun and the milky, purple-orange work of art it created through the skullcap. "I really hope you can direct these things back home. . ."

    Without warning, the bats took flight, dragging us through the skull''s nasal cavity. I screamed at nothing but a desert graveyard and ten million insects crawling in the forest alongside it.

    I wonder, is this how the Clueless Worm felt? My only hope is that my adventure doesn''t end with a splat, as his did. I don''t think I can survive a fall like him. . .

    It only took a few minutes to become familiar with the bat''s flight pattern, which made the jerkiness mildly more tolerable. I watched as miles of forest passed below us, a blur of green and auburn staunchly contrasting the violet sunset haze attempting to engulf it.

    So this is what the canopy looks like from its other side. I could get used to this. It''s amazing what a little change of perspective can do. . . the forest has never looked so beautiful.

    I shouted over rushing wind. "Hey, Maya. I thought bats use echolocation to see, how are you communicating so easily with gestures?"

    "Fox bats don''t use echolocation, they see with their eyes. Most bats can see out of their eyes, they aren''t there for decoration."

    I''ll take that as a cue to shut up.

    Somehow, completely unbeknownst to me, Maya directed the bats to our keep. They let us down gently within the castle walls, and Maya gave them both fruit from her pack. It was much easier to see them in open space, and they almost looked cute in dusk''s light. Brown, furry bodies and black leathery wings acted scarily like human arms as they embraced her. I expected them to dramatically fly off into the sunset, but instead, their claws latched to the stone beam above our main entrance and they draped down like curtains--kicking their feet up after a hard day of work, I suppose. Maya squealed a little, hopping and clapping hurriedly at our new drapery.

    I motioned inside. "Come on. The sun''s about to set."

    Back up the stairs we ran, stripping our armor and weapons along the way. Maya handed me the scroll and I placed it in a chest near our bed, alongside the six others we''d collected, each embossed with patterns of different stone and color. We hopped into bed and I pulled an amethyst-like gem from beneath my pillow.

    "Good night, love," I said, placing the gem into a keyhole above our headboard and twisting. "See you tomorrow. And sorry the King was such a prick. It seemed to throw you off."

    "It''s fine, I just hate that I''ll never be able to make him pay enough for what he did." She gripped my hand and kissed me, looking deep into my eyes. "Good night! By the way, I think the contest is void."

    "Yeah. I guess the King beat us in terms of numbers."

    "Let''s just say the bats won this one, they''re the true MVPs."

    Hard to argue with that logic, honestly. I smiled and nodded.

    We closed our eyes, letting darkness settle in around us.

    ~

    An alarm went off, buzzing harshly in my ear like a nasty fly that refuses to leave. I sat up and swatted at it haphazardly, rubbing my eyes and yawning with a deep stretch. The clock read 7:00am, meaning I had no time to lie back down for a few minutes and procrastinate waking up.

    I don¡¯t want to get ready for work. Why can''t I just lie in bed and sleep forever?

 Chapter 4

    Maybe tonight, I''ll go to bed early and work on a vehicle to traverse the Endless Desert. I could also just use the extra time to prepare for the incoming Yuurish siege. . . either way, I should fall asleep at 8:30 instead of 10:00 and get there before Maya. Per--

    "Hello? Jackson? Are you even paying attention?"

    I shook my head with a sharp inhale. Sitting up, straightening my lopsided collar, I tried to force a smile. "Of course I am, Ms. Henson. Please continue with the slideshow--it''s riveting."

    The group stifled snickers, trying to retain poignancy. Henson took it in stride, though, continuing her lecture without a hitch. Good sport.

    "Well, exactly for this purpose, media campaigns need to be more enthralling--captivating and enrapturing. Too often are they cookie-cutter or bland, resulting in people like Jackson sleeping through them. That''s our purpose here at Medialive. That means I need you guys to care when campaigning."

    I nodded and agreed with a look of appeasement carefully crafted through the years, as if I appreciated listening to a woman making five times my salary drone on over being enthusiastic about cold calling strangers. Our titles are ''Marketing Experts'', but that''s just so we''d sound professional when making calls--the more apt term would be ''telemarketers'', or, alternatively, ''those people you wish would trip and stumble onto a high-speed freeway''.

    Henson continued with her lecture, and I continued to draw a grin on my face, bobbing my head up and down, up and down, with slightly staggered offsets to emulate an attention span--as if I have one of those.

    Oh, look, a squirrel.

    When the meeting was over, I shuffled back to my cubicle and pretended to be swamped with work to avoid the coworkers in my biome--I don''t know how I ended up with the Gossip Girls around me, but I did. I guess people are more receptive to strange female voices than male, but they couldn''t have women comprise the entire department or it''d look degrading. Which, it is, obviously--there was nowhere near the same concentration of women in any other section, but they can''t have it blatantly look that way. That''s basically what I got paid for, if you can even call it getting paid.

    Face buried in a computer filled with empty words, I lightly swung my letter-opener around as if it were as sword, slicing through mail of both paper and imaginary steel. The exhaustion wasn''t helping me get any work done; I''d spent too much time dreaming, leaving me lethargic and unmotivated. Well, more than usual, at least.

    That''s what happens when you barely make it back before the sun sets. I wonder, if I just pick up the phone and talk to myself, would anyone even know I''m faking it?

    "Don''t work too hard, Jackson. You might hurt yourself at this rate."

    Startled, I instinctively snapped a hand at my work phone, missing and knocking aside the receiver.

    "Oh, it''s just you, Mike." The words came out as a sigh of relief. Mike Fonsetti was perhaps ''persistent'' at worst, but easy to stick around in a workplace. Also, he liked me for some unknown reason. That''s always a plus.

    He was cracking up at my clamorous fit. "Sorry, Jax. You''re too easy to screw with, always zoning out and getting caught up thinking about whatever it is you think about. What do you think about, man?"

    "Oh, nothing really. A nice vacation in the forest, beautiful women, and adventures. Typical stuff. All I really know is that anywhere, even somewhere in my head, is better than this dump."

    "Amen to that, brother. Although--women? How risqu¨¦. I wouldn''t have expected you to say that, since you never come out when I invite you." He falsely gasped, hand shooting up to cover a gaping mouth. "Maybe you''ve had a change of heart? I''m telling you, man, those happy hours are a lot of fun."

    I shrugged and maintained a taut smile as my eyes shifted towards the floor. "Maybe some other time, Mike. I always appreciate you inviting me, but I don''t really feel up to it."

    His lips twisted down, and his eyebrows up. "Alright, Jax. Whatever you say, man. I''m just telling you, if you''re sitting around daydreaming about having fun at work, you should do something besides work. Live a little, before you''re too old and get a hangover after smelling wine."

    "Thanks, Mike. I¡¯ll take you up on that offer someday. You''re a good guy for always trying to help me out."

    His hand tapped my cubicle wall twice, signaling his departure. I decided to buckle down and get a few calls out of the way so I wouldn''t get fired for failing to meet weekly quota.

    "Hello Mr. Gano, my name is Jackson with Medialive, and I''d like to take a few moments of your day to--"

    "No." The line clicked, to my relief.

    Thank God for people like Mr. Gano. They don''t bring me any closer to earning a monthly bonus, but most of the time, I just don''t care.

    #

    At 11:30AM on the dot, I decided to take my lunch break and get some fresh air--it''s a bit claustrophobic, being stuffed in a cubicle for hours, the grey walls of it slowly closing in and crushing me. I always got lunch at Harry''s Deli, this great little hole-in-the-wall shop that makes a beautiful reuben and the best fries in town.

    "Hey, Jax," the cashier greeted me cheerfully. I have no idea why she was always so happy. "The usual, right? That''ll be $6.74."

    I handed her a worn ten dollar bill. "Yep, you got it. Thanks, Clara--you can keep the change."

    "Aww, you''re so nice! Enjoy the meal!"Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    "You t--" ¡ª I caught it before it came out all the way ¡ª "Take care now."

    Whew, that was a close one.

    I waited by the counter for my food, staring into the refrigerated display case full of baked goods; a rainbowed myriad of cupcakes and cookies decorated in vibrant colors, lush cakes and brownies. Harry''s has something for everyone, and if for some reason they don''t, you can request an addition to their menu.

    As I lost myself in the swirl of a red velvet cupcake, a voice echoed in my head. "Jackson? Jackson? Hello, Earth to moron. Wakey-wakey."

    At first I thought an annoyed employee was trying to hand over my order, but there was no one behind the counter; the noise''s belligerent source had crept up beside me, a short woman with rose-dyed hair, and offered no food.

    "Hey, Diane. You here to get lunch, too?" Smooth, as always.

    "No, I just enjoy the smell of lunchmeat," she retorted, elbowing my side. "This place is a favorite of mine."

    I ruffled my hair, chuckling at myself. Do I rib her back? No, right? That''s weird.

    "Yeah, of course, I don''t know why I asked such a dumb question. How are you? How''s Sam doing? I heard he''s been sick lately."

    "He''s holding up, thanks for asking. We''re all positive about his remission, and he''s a fighter." There was a slight hint of uncertainty in her downcast eyes, but she truly seemed to believe the statement.

    "That''s great to hear! You look really tired, by the way. Long night?" I asked with a bad wink and playful tone.

    "Very funny. No, actually, I went to bed at a normal time, pretty boring night. I just had some pretty crazy dreams and slept like crap."

    "Huh. Story of my life. What kind of dr--oh, my sandwich. Sorry, one second."

    Hugo--the main chef at Harry''s, real nice guy--handed me a wrinkled brown bag with my Reuben and fries, smiling like he always did. "Here, Mr. Grey. Fresh for you."

    His accent was thick, but clear enough to understand--what baffled me was not his English, but how happy he always seemed despite working in a deli at forty or fifty, handing people grease-soaked bags of food like they were actually bags of gold and he was a stocky, Portuguese leprechaun. I thanked him with less than equivalent enthusiasm and turned back to Diane, who was second in line to place an order. I tried to come up with something to say, but she punched my shoulder and broke the silence for me.

    "Get back to work, lazy."

    I smiled. "Yeah. Not a bad call. Don''t want to piss the boss off. Again."

    The air outside was brisk, yet not painfully cold, as winter was on its way out in the Virginian equivalent of spring. There wasn''t much of a walk to enjoy the weather, and within minutes I was back at Medialive--where the ads are livelier than the employees.

    The rest of the day was excruciatingly uneventful, dragging by like a dog''s ass on carpet. I made my quota and drove a battered ''07 Civic home, mind churning with what I''d set up for the night. Sometimes I''d go to the gym and bike a bit before going back to the apartment, but usually I wanted a little extra time to plan and prepare before Maya joined.

    I poured two cups of orange juice into my blender and tossed in a frozen banana with a scoop and a half of vanilla protein powder, which helped keep my body fairly nourished through the long night. As I watched the juice swirl into a softer, creamy orange-beige, my phone flashed with life.

    From: Mike

    Jax, come on over to the Golden Monkey for a few drinks. You shouldn''t just sleep your life away, man. I know you get all those headaches, but it shouldn''t stop you from living.

    ''Sorry, Mike, but sleeping my life away isn''t all that bad'' is what I wanted to respond with, but I opted to simply thank him and say I''d take a raincheck. I felt bad for lying about the headaches, but I had work to do--and it''s not like he''d believe the truth, anyway. No one would.

    My protein shake was downed within moments, the sleeping pills quickly following suit. I placed the blender in the sink and filled it with water, brushed my teeth, and hurried into bed. One last time, I glanced over a few notes I''d layed out about the Yuurish, scribbled amongst pages of ideas and rough sketches. A reverse dream journal that held my world in its binding.

    It became difficult to read after a little while as the pills kicked in, and I lobbed the notebook onto my nightstand, tossing a few times in bed. What I thought of in the waning moments of wakefulness was not of sieges and starlight, but the stupid question I''d asked Diane earlier.

    "I just like the smell of lunchmeat."

    It was a funny retort, but why did I always fumble with words around pretty girls? Or, honestly, with just about anyone? My head heavied, swallowed by a down pillow, and darkness overcame me.

    Falling asleep is the best feeling in the world.

    #

    It''s nice waking up to the kiss of sunlight rather than the slap of an alarm clock.

    Even though dreaming was as natural as being awake, if not more, it was still a little strange opening my eyes so soon after closing them. There''s a peculiarity to the mind being awake while the body is sleeping, a sort of tingling, ghostly presence in the back of my head. Thankfully, occupying myself was always enough to override the feeling and fully immerse myself--but the act of waking just never felt right to me.

    I sat up and stretched, silk sheets floating off my body and down to the bed as warmth spilled upon me through huge windows lining our bedroom wall. As usual, I hopped out of bed and spread the bi-folding glass doors separating our bedroom from an expansive balcony adorned with potted flowers of every color. Butterflies fluttered around in the true spring air, their wings a stunning blur of onyx, orange and ocean blue. It was such a lovely day, warm and absent of humidity, a light breeze ruffling through my hair and soft, billowy clouds floating through the sky without a care in the world.

    Perfection.

    After a few minutes spent reveling in relaxation, I clad myself in armor and strapped on the belt that housed Somnior. Down the staircase, through the entrance hall and out into the courtyard, a sudden commotion caused me to start. I approached the scratchy sound, following it to the main entrance.

    Ugh, I forgot about them.

    Disgruntled and still on edge, I stormed off toward the outer gate, continuing my journey as two bats flapped wildly through the air around me like thunderclouds born of my annoyance. I examined the outer wall''s perimeter to the erratic soundtrack of beating wings, scanning its weaknesses and obvious points of entry--the most blatant of which was a dip in the wall, to the castle rear. Thankfully, both the armory tower and our personal chambers have a trebuchet of sorts sitting atop them to fight off initial combatant waves--assuming that Maya doesn''t just open the front gate and invite them in for tea and slaughter.

    Once I''d returned to within the castle walls, I ascended the armory tower, onto the roof, and peered around in search of any signs of Yuurishmen marching in the distance. To my relief, not even a single leaf was rustling suspiciously in any direction. It would have been a disaster if the siege had started before Maya arrived. Not because they''d destroy me, but because she''d destroy me for fighting without her.

    Bits of straw sailed through the air as I hacked at a pell with a wooden training sword, over, under, and cross-slashing it while keeping my footwork swift. Once it had been sufficiently beaten and broken, I returned to our chambers, where a piece of parchment waited on my writing desk.

    Dearest Reza,

    I can''t believe you didn''t see me on your way up. The bats definitely have better vision than you.

    Get back to work, lazy.

    My eyes fixated on the final line. Moments later, Maya jumped out from under the bed. The entirely stoic reaction she received was a mix of shock and confusion.

    "You''re so boring," she said, crossing her arms. "Why''re you just standing there, looking at the note all funny, anyway?"

    I set the parchment back on my desk. "Just some deja-vu, I guess. Doesn''t matter."

 Chapter 5

    A wet tongue lapped at my face, as if trying to erase the annoyed expression from it.

    "Aren''t these stupid things supposed to be nocturnal?" I barked at Maya, swatting the tongue away. She laughed and pet the bat harassing me lovingly.

    "They''re fox bats, not micro-bats, so they''re fine in daylight. That''s why they''re so cute and not a little freaky looking. Fun fact: they actually don''t even use echolocation, they just see with their eyes like we do!"

    "You already told me that. How do I get them to see that I don''t enjoy being licked?"

    She scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Whatever, just deal with it. They''ll probably give up eventually if you don''t pet them. Honestly, though--you should befriend one. They saved our lives and can help out a lot in the future. Besides, how can you not love those adorable fuzzy faces?" She cooed at the scarred bat, rubbing its head.

    A sharp clinking noise rang loudly through the air, sending the two beasts into a state of alarm. It was an unpleasant, hollow sound, and one birthed of steel crashing into wood. Maya and I drew swords and slowly advanced into the courtyard.

    "Maya, I''ll take the armory tower and you man the parapet. If you notice a breach, let''s meet up here, okay?"

    She nodded in agreement, but another bout of the noise halted us. It was slightly less harsh this time, forming a rhythm: one, one-two-three, one-two. Emanating from the entrance gate, rattling across Lake Augr.

    Is someone. . . how can this be possible?

    I turned to Maya, wanting to ask her thoughts, but the hollow gaze she wore gave me pause. I was looking, for a moment, into the empty eyes of a doll that sits on its shelf, helplessly watching as a busy world whirls past.

    As she shook the look off and started forward, I grabbed her arm. "You get closer to the gate--I''ll head up into the armory and check our surroundings to make sure it''s not some kind of distraction. Don''t open the gate until we''re both there, just in case, okay? Promise me."

    "Fine, fine. I promise. Just don''t take too long, okay?"

    We jogged along the lake''s edge and I broke off at the tower, bounding up its twisting staircase in groups of four. Cresting the top floor, I grabbed a spyglass and scanned the castle''s rear wall and weak points for signs of an invasion. There was nothing but still forest, gently swaying in a nurturing breeze, and a strangely dark cloud to the south.

    A storm must be coming. But such a small, isolated one?

    I ran downstairs, skipping as many steps as possible. Just shy of reaching the courtyard, the thunderous creak of poorly-oiled iron hinges grated inside of me.

    Oh, for God''s sake.

    Sure enough, as soon as I popped out, enormous wooden doors were splitting outward as if Moses himself were parting them. I sprinted, hoping to at least get there before anything could swarm through our gate and spread out. As the gap widened, I was expecting to see the Yuurish army waving their swords and laughing at how easy their siege had become--and yet, instead, there was but one man who stood before us. A very, very hairy man. Maya was running back down the barbican''s interior staircase when I intercepted her.

    "Why didn''t you wait for me?!"

    She merely shrugged, and I let out a sigh that could''ve blown a tree over before turning my attention to the figure standing at our front gate. Immediately, I whipped Somnior from its sheath, sending streaks of emerald light dancing across the courtyard.

    "Maya, look at his armor." The beast was clad in black and red metal from head to toe. His left arm was in a makeshift sling, the armor around it twisted and gnarled.

    "Yeah, I know. It''s strange, though. You, Zoxan! I thought all of you committed suicide at the King''s command. Why are you still alive? Did he order you not to join in, so you could try and kill us when we''d least expect it?"

    I chimed in. "Postmortem assassination. Not a bad idea if he knew there was no chance to win the battle."

    The Zoxan bowed its head, using a healthy right arm to pull its helmet off. A face of short, light brown fur surrounded by a mane of darker hair was revealed; bear-like, just as the King was. There were also thin lines running from his eyes out to his ears, but they were blue rather than red. Its facial features were mostly humanoid, despite having a bear''s ears and subdued snout. A thin gash, freshly healed, disturbed the fur on his throat.

    "I am indeed Zoxan," the bear grumbled with a low, grinding voice, like sandpaper on my eardrums. "That much I cannot deny. However, I am not your enemy."

    "I''ll ask you again: your entire race killed themselves at the snap of a finger, and yet you''re knocking on our front door." Maya''s arms were crossed, with one hand fingering Vesper''s pommel. "Why?"

    "That King of ours, he had a telepathic link to our entire species, one that was impossible to block. From birth, he would fill our heads with orders, strip us from our mothers and break us into beings without will or character; machines that perform at his whim. We could not say no, for his thoughts ruled our minds--he could control any of us like puppets. The reason our army seemed like a swarm of mindless drones was because the King cannot give specific orders when trying to control everyone at the same time. He was so hellbent on being in control that he chose to entirely remove their fear of death and have them flock to you, overriding their personal traits. I saw many great swordsmen fall before you without even putting up a fight.

    "I, however, have always had a weaker link with him for some reason. I''d hoped to learn why, to break his hold on our race, but his greed took hold and wiped my people from existence. When the order came through, I resisted with all my might. Even with a sword pressed against my throat, I refused to push any further. I think the pain of my broken arm helped clear my mind.

    He turned his gaze to Maya, stone-faced.

    "When I heard you speak to the King, and shame him for his actions, I was confused. I''d not seen anyone stand up to him before, and in that moment, I realized that no one can tie my will down. When he died, I understood that no one is invincible--even the almighty King, towering so high above us. I am the only Zoxan left, so I am the free will of my entire people in a way; I would like to live a life that all of them would be proud of. Our last moment in history will not be the day that vile coward ended us."

    We looked at him, unsure of whether or not he''d finished.

    The Zoxan shifted uncomfortably, turning his gaze to the dirt and bowing again. "I apologize if I''ve been too outright--I have never interacted in this manner before. We''ve never been a freely speaking people. Always, he was listening."

    Maya''s arms relaxed, shifting to her hips, and she cracked a warm smile. "Don''t worry about that. I like you, Zoxan. What''s your name?"

    "Name? I''m afraid I don''t understand."

    "Oh, you must have another word for it. Uh. . . what are you called? How are you referred to, when spoken to?"

    "We are not called anything, we recognize--recognized--each other mostly through a. . . connection, I suppose would be the way to put it. A unique feeling, though the King could override it at will. What is a ''name''?"

    I decided to cut in. "Names are unique words given to every person, something to refer to them. It''s our way of telling each other apart, and communicating easily. I am Reza, and this is Maya. With these names, we can call to each other specifically. Normally they''re given at birth by parents."

    "I see. Would it be easier for you if I had a name, then? What should I be called?"

    "If you can''t think of anything, I have a few suggestions," Maya offered, a sly look on her face.

    Oh, God, please don''t let her name you.

    "Well, actually, I thought of one. But thank you--Ma-ya, correct? May I be called Zoxan?"

    I chuckled, rubbing my face to try and hide the laughter. "Well, you''re not really supposed to name yourself after your race or country. A name isn''t a description or something."

    "Why not?"

    "It''s just. . . strange. You''re not a race, you''re a person. An individual."

    The bear chewed on my words for a moment. "Well, Ree-za, I would suggest otherwise. I have never been a person. Under the King''s regime, I was a slave, and now I am the remnant of all that was Zoxum and its people. I am Zoxan."

    I couldn''t help but smile at that. "Well spoken. It''s a bit odd, but I''ll get used to it. Nice to meet you, Zoxan. Now, don''t get me wrong here; I like you so far, but we don''t know you at all. There''s also still the chance that your intentions are malicious. I''m going to ask that you hand over your weapons, at least for the time being. Is that okay?"

    Without hesitation, he dropped a belt with two swords and his dagger as well. "I would expect no less. You may restrain me, if you wish."

    I tossed his weapons into a crate by the main entrance. "That won''t be necessary. You picked a hell of a time to come by, though. We''re preparing for a siege that should be hitting any moment."

    "Is that so? May I help you fight for your home, then?"Stolen novel; please report.

    Maya''s face contorted. "Why would you want to help us fight? We killed your whole race and stole your home."

    "Such is life, Ma-ya. Despite us being enemies, you still showed compassion for us when you heard the King speak. You didn''t eradicate Zoxum--he did. And when you killed him, you set me free. I get to experience something my people never did, and for that, I will fight by your side. I believe I can accomplish some kind of good if I stay with you."

    "You can have these to help us during the battle," I said, returning his belongings. "But I''m warning you--one misstep and you''re dead. You saw us for yourself."

    He accepted them graciously, slinging his belt back on. "I believe you. The skills you two displayed in the Motherland were incredible, to say the least."

    "Good. Welcome to our home, Zoxan. Pull your weight and we''ll help you find your place in this world."

    "Thank you, Ree-za. Tell me, what is your home''s name? You said all things have names.

    I shrugged at Maya, sharing a laugh.

    "I apologize if my questions are strange," he continued.

    "No, no--sorry, we weren''t laughing at you. You bring up a good point, Zoxan. Now that I think about it, we never actually named this place. That''s kinda weird, isn''t it, Maya? We should have a name for our home."

    She stroked at her chin. "You''re right. How about. . .Castle Lakefront?"

    "That''s a bit too blunt, isn''t it? Take a little longer to think about it. The name should be meaningful." She hissed at me, but I ignored it and kept thinking.

    "I like the sound of Dawnbringer Castle. Whether we''re waking up or going to sleep, it''s dawn."

    "That''s surprisingly clever. Dawnbringer Castle. Anyway, we should probably be in the towers watching for signs of advancing armies, it''s almost noon now. I''ll close the gate."

    "Sure, but I want you to see the new armor I''m working on! Maybe I could make you some too, since yours is. . . old."

    I fired a death glare at Maya, who recoiled and ran off to the armory. "Zoxan, you''ll stay with me today. Maya will certainly lose you when things get crazy. Honestly, she''d lose you on a tour of the castle."

    Gears churned as massive wooden slabs swung shut and the locking bar engaged, creaking in protest at the labor. Zoxan was still waiting right where I''d left him--it didn''t even look like his feet had shifted position. I led him up the armory tower, walking behind him, ascending the swirling staircase that wound from floor to roof, peeking at a toiling Maya on the way up. She looks good swinging that hammer around.

    We crested the tower''s crown, and Zoxan stepped as far forward through an embrasure as he could without plunging to the ground, wind whipping his fur into a frenzy.

    "This view is amazing," he said with awe, looking across the vast, expansive ocean of leafy green. "I never knew how much existed outside of my city."

    "Well, there sure is a lot of forest. Which is why I need your help to look for signs of enemy advancement. It''s impossible to see through the canopy, but if ten thousand men are marching toward us, you''ll notice the trees rustle with a violence that doesn''t come from a breeze. I still don''t see anything, though. They must be having difficulty mobilizing that many men through this terrain."

    Zoxan turned in place, scanning the region. "Reza?"

    "What is it?"

    "Is there some kind of garden to the south of here?"

    "It''s a forest, I''m sure there are plenty of garden-looking things around."

    "Yes, but that is quite a lot of orange."

    Following his gaze, there was, as he had said, a garden of orange littered through a thinner part of the forest south of us. Or was it orange?

    "Zoxan, do you know what two colors make up orange?"

    "Yellow and red, no?"

    "Correct. Yellow and red. The Yuurish flag is solid yellow, with no insignia. They believe that Yuura is a land of light that will fight off the darkness by conquering it. I postulate that they chose yellow because it tends to invoke happiness when seen, helping conquered nations stomach their presence."

    "That is very interesting. Are you suggesting that they are the yellow in this equation?"

    "Yes."

    "Then, the red would be?"

    We shared a glance, then sprinted downstairs.

    "Quit whatever you''re doing, I need help!" I hollered at Maya, clamoring into the forge.

    "Ah, come on! I''m almost done with my new armor," she whined, a familiar tone meant to annoy me into submission.

    "There''ll be time for that later! Something is horribly wrong, here." We walked out into the bailey, standing lakeside. "When we were scouting, we saw them in the distance. Not yellow, Maya, but orange."

    "I don''t understand what the meaning of this is," Zoxan said.

    I turned to him. "You bleed black, but most other species are red inside."

    His eyes widened. "But what could have done such a thing? There must be thousands in the distance."

    "More than that, Zoxan. I think there are nearly twenty thousand dead men rotting in the forest"--I turned to Maya, who was idly staring into the distance--"and I don''t have the faintest clue as to what could have done--"

    She leapt through the air, knocking Zoxan and I to the ground. Less than a second later, darkness swallowed our piled bodies as something devoured the sky overhead, making it look like the warped gloss of painted glass. It passed quickly, however, and crashed into the lake with a force that sent waves splashing across the courtyard. For several moments, it was raining, without a single cloud overhead. Mist swirled through the air and a rainbow sprouted, trying to connect the tiny droplets of water around us. It would''ve been a beautiful sight, had we not been preoccupied with the imminent threat of death.

    Still lying in the dirt, I tried to analyze what was in the lake. How did someone get a goddamn trebuchet through the forest without me noticing?

    "I don''t know what''s happening, but we need to find that trebuchet and destroy it before we''re crushed like bugs. What are they firing, anyway? That looks like. . . ice? How did they haul a fucking glacier through the forest? No--why did they haul a glacier through the forest?" Thoughts ran laps around my mind as I laid in the glinting glare of a slick iceberg, scattering light like a frigid diamond.

    I understand that sometimes the minor details are out of our control, but. . .

    The three of us regained our composure, and I noticed another oddity about the glistening chunk of ice floating in our lake.

    "Maya, am I crazy or is that thing pointed? Like giant, fat icicle."

    She approached it, scanning the abomination. "Yeah, it''s cone-shaped."

    "Someone found glaciers, then carved, transported and fired them at us? This is. . . it''s silly. It''s goddamn absurd. It''s impossible."

    She threw her arms up in defeat. "Well, this siege was your plan. Don''t ask me why it''s going berserk, I''m just trying not to die here. Wait. . . Reza, what the hell is that?"

    Squinting, I traced the path of Maya¡¯s finger, uphill, toward the castle. A figure in a dark purple robe, probably shorter than myself, menacingly loomed over our doorstep.

    How did he get in here? The walls are ten meters high. . .

    I turned to the bear, his face considerably more odd when flattened by water. "Zoxan, you furry asshole! Did you sneak him in somehow?"

    He half-bowed at me again. "You were with me the whole time. I would not dishonor my people with such tricks."

    "Reza, are you screwing with me? What''s going on?" Maya''s eyes had glazed over once more, and her words were lacking their usual emphasis.

    I stared at the robed man, wondering the same thing. "No, I don''t know what''s happening. Besides, this guy is the least of our problems--I''ll kill him, you worry about whatever is launching glaciers into our front yard. We''ll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Zoxan, with me."

    Before we could set off, a maniacal laugh echoed through the castle walls, and the robed man raised his arms into the air. A white powder accumulated above him, swirling in a vortex that concentrated at a focal point which grew in size with each second, like a blizzard had apparated at his command. The swelling snowball appeared solid, but its shape was altering as if it were made of putty, slowly clarifying and forming a point. It was the probably forty times the size of a grown man. The three of us just stood there, gaping at it, and I felt a deep chill settle in.

    "Reza. . . what the fu--"

    We barely had time to scatter before it came barreling straight at us, a frosty mist trailing behind it. The three of us managed to escape its path somehow, and it slammed straight into the dirt where we''d been standing, catapulting mud across the yard and into the lake. The point was so sharp that it cut right through the earth, raising the ground around it while burrowing deeper and deeper before finally coming to a stop. It rooted itself deep enough to remain there, upright, like a poorly cut diamond had sprouted from the ground.

    Maya crawled toward me wildly, her face turning bright red. "Reza! You idiot! We agreed--no magic!"

    "Oh, but giant bats are fine? That''s totally realistic, right? Bear people? That was your idea, too. I didn''t even come up with whatever this is!"

    "I like animals, okay?" she fired at me, as if trying to fight ice with ice. "He probably doesn''t appreciate being called a ''bear person'', by the way. It''s insensitive."

    "I''m afraid I don''t understand what''s happening," Zoxan whispered to the dirt.

    "Never mind all that--I don''t know who this guy is, and we need to handle him quick before he kills us or destroys the place, or both. Maya, you-"

    "I''ll attack from the front, you run along the wall and get to a blind spot so you can flank him. One of us will have an opening!" she shouted at me, already running up the hill.

    I scrambled to my left, trying to catch up with Maya''s placement. "Zoxan, you stay there, okay? Don''t move until we have this handled."

    "Understood," he replied, closing his eyes. "I will die here, if it comes to that."

    "No, you can move if he''s trying to kill you, I just meant. . . whatever."

    I crouched low, pressing myself against the mossy stone wall and treaded lightly as I traced it. Thankfully, I''d left some of the forest''s trees in tact when the walls went up, and they returned the favor by providing cover as I advanced. The biting cry of steel against steel rang out and I hastened my pace.

    Here''s hoping that if she presses him constantly, he won''t have time to form any of that ice.

    I reached a thick patch of brush and cut across to approach him from the rear, quietly rushing forward low with Somnior in hand. I halted, sighing as I stepped out into the open and saw a lump of robes on the ground.

    "Did you tell me to flank just so you could kill him yourself?"

    All I got in response was a light giggle and a big smile, though it melted away quickly. "Seriously, though--does anything go, now? Cause if we''re going to have enemies that can do this kind of thing, we need to be able to match it. Why didn''t you just tell me?"

    "I didn''t know, I swear. I didn''t do this."

    She squinted at me, sneering. I cocked my head in response and followed up with, "Oh, so you''re telling me you didn''t do this? It''s is the exact kind of prank you''d pull on me."

    She sobered from dramatacism and fired me a stare that was both colder and sharper than the strange man''s ice. "We set rules, and I told you I wouldn''t break them."

    I nodded sternly, shifting my attention to the robed man. The two of us stood over his dead body, blood trickling downhill, like a trail of fire ants marching through the grass.

    "Why is Zoxan just standing there, looking at the sky, by the way?"

    I let a bit of air through my nose and sheathed my sword. He hadn''t moved an inch, not even shifted his upper body, as if the ice had frozen him solid where I''d left him. Channeling the wrong part of your heritage with the whole statue thing, buddy.

    "He''s a bit off, that one,¡± I said, kneeling by the fresh corpse. ¡°Fantastic listener, though. You could learn a thing or two from him.¡±

 Chapter 6

    "You know, for a wizard, this guy sure has a small wand." We''d parted the dead mage''s robes and, unfortunately, he seemed to value comfort over decency.

    "Maya, he''s a mage, not a wizard. Mages don''t use--whatever. Have you found anything on him besides that? Something useful, maybe? We need to figure out what''s going on here. . ."

    "I know, I know. I just don''t see anything on this guy that could indicate where he came from. I mean, if he can even be considered a he with that lil'' thing." She stifled laughter as I continued to turn out empty pocket after empty pocket.

    He came at us wearing nothing but a robe and doesn''t have a single possession on him. What the hell am I supposed to make of this?

    With nothing useful on his front, I flipped him, blood and dirt wedging into my fingernails. To my surprise, at the nape covering, there was white text woven into the velvety purple material that read: ''Tagless for maximum comfort. 75% silk, 25% cotton. Made in Fundaa.'' What an astonishing level of detail, even by my standards.

    "Where''s Fundaa?" I asked.

    "I do not know of such a place," Zoxan replied, bowing his head. "I apologize I cannot be of more help."

    "Is that even a real name? I''ve never seen it on a map before, and it just sounds terrible. Fundaa. Gross." Maya held her tongue out and scraped at it, as if the word had left a foul taste behind. "Let''s go check a map again, there should be one in the armory."

    "There''s no point, we control the geography and neither of us know what this place is. There has to be some other clue here, something about who this guy is. . ."

    "Reza, there''s nothing left to search. Unless you''ve got a pair of gloves you don''t want anymore and no dignity, let''s just go check the map." She started walking back downhill, tracing the lake''s edge.

    I sighed in defeat, following suit. "Fine. Let''s go, Zoxan."

    It was a short walk, but we took it casually. There was a sense of urgency to be sure, but nobody ever talks about how draining the aftermath of an adrenaline spike is. Burning thighs, a pounding head. . . it''s a bit like a hangover, where all the negativity previously avoided finally catches up. On our left, Maya was slipping and sliding around, waving her arms around in wild circles to balance herself on the massive icicle floating in the lake. Since it was conical, the pointed end sank first, leaving a massive, perfectly smooth surface exposed. Damn, that thing has already risen the water level so much. When the other one melts. . . well, it''s a good thing we don''t keep anything important on the first floor of the armory, I guess. How did she get on top of that thing, anyway?

    Maya was doing her best to remain upright despite her feet betraying her on the slick, glimmering ice glowing blue in sunlight. After a little struggling, she seemed to gain control of herself, thrusting her arms into the air. The victorious motion threw her body''s equilibrium off, sending her reeling to the ice, which bobbed under her weight, tilting over and dumping her into the lake with a loud splash that quickly muffled her shouting.

    I laughed, allowing much needed levity to seep through aching muscles. Zoxan met my eyes for a moment, then released what I can only describe as a choppy. . . growl. The laughter caught in my diaphragm, choking off with a cough.

    "Are you. . . copying me?"

    His eyes sunk to the dirt.

    "Do you not know what laughter is?" I pressed.

    His gaze remained downcast. "I think I understand the concept, but we were very heavily restrained with little interpersonal contact. It seems to be an expression of enjoyment, one that is shared. . . but it won''t come naturally for me. It seems to be acquired through group learning, so perhaps I will grasp it with time."

    "That''s pretty sad, Zox. But yeah, if you hang around with us, I''m sure you''ll figure it out. Maya keeps things interesting."

    He cocked his furry head at me. "Zox?"

    "Yeah, it''s a nickname. ''Zoxan'' is a little rough to say over and over, but Zox is a pretty cool name. It''s shorter."

    "You are shortening the value of my people?"

    "Wh--no. No, it''s just easier to say out loud. It still has the same meaning, but it sounds cooler. It''s not literally cutting the meaning in half just because the word is shorter."

    "Oh, okay. I accept. I am, henceforth, Zox."

    "Uh. . . yeah. We should go help Maya out now, she probably needs a towel." I patted him on the back and walked into the tower, where I''d stashed several linens in a thick, carved chest for situations like this. I grabbed one, hand-dyed deep with lapis lazuli, and shut the oak''s mouth shut. Walking back out to the shore, Maya was shaking the water from her body like a dog, a tornado of wet hair whipping violently around her. Her face was glowing, split from ear to ear with a bright, pearly smile, even though I could see the skin and hair on her forearms tightening and raising with little bumps. A light, mid-day breeze was rolling in on us, and even I felt a chill setting in.

    She accepted the towel as though it were merely some sort of decorative hood, wrapping it around her hair haphazardly, completely dismissing the rest of her body. Through the soaked comfortwear sticking to her skin, I could see the musculature of her upper thighs and the outline of her ribs where the chestpiece left a gap. Ugh, the thought of wet clothing chafing beneath armor. . .

    Amidst fidgeting with fitting the towel to her head, she asked, "Did you check the map?"

    "Oh, I forgot about that. You kind of distracted me. I''ll run and grab one."

    I scaled the winding stone staircase, entering the armory and scanning the room. The one we took with us to Zoxum was lost in the midst of battle but, thankfully, I always kept extras. In a corner, tucked under some older, worn-out armor, I found one rolled up.

    When I got back downstairs, Maya had fully abandoned drying herself off and had begun playing rock-paper-scissors with Zox, who looked extremely focused on their game.

    "Rock, paper, scissors, go!"

    Zox held his fist out, and Maya had her palm open and held up like she was going to hit Zox with a karate chop. Upon seeing the result, she gave him a scornful look, like a dissatisfied teacher. "Zox, you gotta mix it up. I''m going to keep beating you if you just play rock over and over! This is no fun."

    "But stone is strong. Stone would tear through paper. Why do I keep losing with it?"

    "Ugh, that''s just how the game works. Paper beats rock--that''s the rule! It wouldn''t make sense if rock beat everything, no one would play anything else."

    "That rule doesn''t make sense. I don''t like this game. How do I pick one?"

    I stayed back a moment to let them continue their bit, biting my lip to keep any laughter contained.

    "You just pick one, dummy! Paper beats rock, rock beats scissors, and scissors beats paper. Got it?"

    "What are ''scissors'', again?"

    She opened her mouth, but held the words in for a moment. "Well, uh, good question. . . they''re just--a part of the game! They cut things, like paper, I guess. So they beat paper."

    "What are they made of?"

    "Metal? Why are you asking me all these questions? Can we just play the stupid game?"

    "So you are telling me that a stone smashes metal, but does not smash paper? This game makes no sense. Metal would shatter stone."

    Maya wrapped her hand over her face, like one would paper over rock.

    "You should automatically lose for bringing paper to a fight," he continued, as if she were listening intently. "Such poor instincts."

    "Sorry to, uh, cut in, but I have a map here." I was gesturing my index and middle fingers in a scissor motion, but Maya was still hiding her face and Zox was just staring at my hand like it had a disturbing infection. "Right, well, let''s see. . ."

    They gathered around me as the map unfurled.

    "Yeah, this is probably bad." My finger was pressed against the map, just a few miles east of our castle, across the Litmus river. How the hell. . .

    "''Oh, there''s nothing on the map, it can''t just change.'' Aren''t you glad I made you grab one of these and check?" Maya asked rhetorically, each word intending to stab my pride.

    "You''re definitely screwing with me, then. You just knew it''d be on the map, something that''s impossible without one of us editing it? Please."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The look of playfulness and warmth evacuated her face quicker than I could keep up with. "I''m getting tired of you accusing me for this. These maps are set to represent the layout of this world, right? Well what if someone else is in here with us, and they added this place?"

    I rolled my eyes. "Am I supposed to take this seriously?"

    "Okay, you need to cut the crap. I know I act silly all the time, but that doesn''t mean you can treat me like this isn''t my world, too. You think you''re a genius, right? Well tell me this: why is that idea so impossible? How did we get here? This isn''t your personal domain, O Mighty Reza. Unless you''re insinuating that I''m not a real person, why would it be so hard to believe that someone else found their way here? If they claimed land, this map would probably change to reflect it. Are you just scared, is that why you keep blaming me?"

    My eyes lowered, jaw clenched. "I never thought of it that way." And I sure hope you''re a real person, Maya.

    "Exactly. Please get over yourself already, so we can move forward."

    "Sorry," I muttered.

    Zox let loose a jagged laugh-growl. It sounded like an obese bear walking down a flight of stairs while roaring at intruders, and quickly cut off with a sharp glance from each of us. "Sorry, inappropriate time? You two seemed to be emotional, so I thought the response was. . . I apologize."

    I rubbed my eyes, turning around to take a deep breath and think. "Maya. . . did you mess with the dead body?"

    "Ew, what is that supposed to mean?"

    "Like, did you do the thing where you hide dead bodies in trees again?"

    "THAT WAS ONE TIME--wait, why are you asking me that?"

    "Because it''s gone, Maya."

    She ran up alongside me, squinting, using her hand as a visor. "We''re downhill, our view is probably just blocked. Go check if you''re worried."

    I walked uphill, past the massive glacier slowly turning the earth around it to mud. Tiny streams trickled through gleaming blades of grass, trailing into the lake.

    "MAYA! PROBLEM!"

    Both she and Zox came running toward me, churning mud beneath their feet.

    "What''s wrong?"

    I pointed to the blood pooling in our courtyard, which had become marginally more visible now that there was no body resting atop it.

    "Uh. . . there''s a trail of blood, and it ends at the splatter on the wall here. How is this possible, Reza?"

    "I don''t know what''s going on. Maybe he was some sort of glitch, and disappeared after dying? Or something took his body away? Hungry bat, maybe? This is just-"

    Thunk.

    My eyes slowly turned to the ground next to me, where a small needle was lodged in the dirt; it was a transparent light blue and a little puff of smoke was pooling around it. I bent over and reached to pull it out, but recoiled in pain immediately, sending it back to the grass.

    "Damn, it burns if you touch it. The air around it feels cold, though. . . oh, God."

    Thunk. Clink.

    There were ice needles landing all over the place, arcing from over the castle wall just in front of us and landing in the dirt or shattering against stone. Maya took off toward the front gate, presumably to take him on again. When I tried to stop her, another thunk rang out, this time from my left forearm, right near the elbow. I yowled in pain, the needle freezing flesh and blood around it. The pain felt real, far more real than anything else I''d experienced. I tried to remove it myself, but it was far too sensitive to the touch; my flesh was freezing to it, visibly tugging with every pull of the ice. Zox and I stumbled forward, pressing ourselves to the castle wall for cover.

    "Zox, yank it out. This thing''s going to freeze my veins shut and it hurts too much for me to do it myself."

    "As you say."

    Without even hesitating, he grabbed the icicle and ripped it from my arm, bits of frozen blood and meat still attached to it. I screamed as it parted my flesh, which visibly upset Zox.

    "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to harm you. I''m sorry, I can put it back." His head was bowed to me.

    "Why would you put it back? I''d be in worse shape if you hadn''t pulled it out, but please, God, warn me next time so I can brace myself. We need to go after Maya."

    "Your wound needs tending, shouldn''t we let Maya handle things herself?"

    "Don''t worry, it''s still mostly frozen shut so I''m not going to bleed out. It wasn''t very big, either. Maya can''t handle this by herself, let''s go."

    We ducked down, hugging the wall to avoid the incoming barrage of ice that spanned almost the entire length of our courtyard, and made it to the front gate just after Maya had finished opening it. All three of us ducked down and ran along the forward wall, then peeked around the corner. Sure enough, the mage was standing at the forest''s edge, arms raised above his head where I could just faintly see mist condensating into small needles through a haze drifting up into the sky. He noticed us peeking around the corner and redirected his volley, forcing us to remain pressed against the wall until the barrage ceased.

    By the time we could safely step back out into the open, he was already slipping into the thick, twisting forest. Maya tried to chase him down, but I grabbed the back of her breastplate and held her in place.

    "Don''t. That''s an ambush waiting to happen, with so much for him to hide behind. He''s gone for now, and we should collect ourselves inside."

    She swatted my hand away and scoffed, storming toward the forest with Vesper drawn. Zox looked at me, to which I responded with a shake of the head before following her.

    Luckily, the mage was leaving a trail of blood behind him as he ran through the woods. We had difficulty catching up to Maya, who was charging forward without trying to maintain any cover, but we didn''t lose her.

    "Maya, he''s going to target you if you won''t try to use the trees to protect yourself. You''re giving him an opening!"

    I got nothing in response, but as if taking it upon himself to answer the question, an icicle flew straight at Maya. It wasn''t enormous, about the size of a carrot from my judgement, but it was enough to kill anything it hit. She leapt up and turned sideways to thin her profile, just dodging the projectile, which blasted through a tree, scattering splinters into the air like terrified toothpicks.

    For about two kilometers, we tailed Maya as she ducked and dodged through the trees. At last, we''d reached the forest''s edge and the treeline began to thin--which was simultaneously a blessing and a curse.

    It was good because our visibility increased, and we were able to see the mage pushing off of Stonepoint shore on a small raft of ice, nearly translucent such that he looked to be standing on the river itself. We were also able to see him amassing a flurry of needles above his head again, a tiny blizzard in the distance.

    Therein lied the bad--we had much less cover, and he was not playing around this time. There had to have been at least a thousand needles collecting in the air, swirling in mist and haze, if not more.

    We ran back into the forest, each ducking behind again tree, waiting for the impending volley.

    "We can''t let him get away, goddamnit." She was out of breath, but I could see the razor-sharp focus in her eyes hadn''t dulled a bit.

    Sure enough, a faint whistling sound cut through the air as thousands of needles thunked around us, covering the trees and ground in glistening spikes. Dense fog released into the air as they underwent sublimation, billowing all around us. So it''s dry ice, then. That''s why it burns so much. And why bother with a boat? Can''t he just freeze the river solid, or float in the air?

    Once the hail ended, Maya ran out to the shore. When Zox and I caught up with her, she''d stopped at the rocky shore, balancing on the point of a jutted rock. There was a thick mist over the opposite bank, completely obscuring our vision of what lied beyond, swallowing trees and any secrets they hid from us.

    "Maya, let''s go back home for now. There''s nothing more we can do." My entire left arm was throbbing with each heartbeat.

    With a sigh, she turned around and stormed back towards the treeline.

    Upon returning to the keep, the three of us were greeted by two black blurs erratically flapping down from the reddening sky. They landed, licking Maya''s face in hopes of getting some fruit. Zox fleed at the sight of them, which earned a stiff laugh from both of us.

    "Oh, I get it. Come by for food and attention, but not when we''re being attacked!" I scolded them upon my approach. The scarred bat flapped his wings in disapproval of my quip.

    Maya hadn''t said a word since we''d arrived; she''d just been staring forward, eyes glossed over, a slow hand petting the two bats. Without breaking her hollow, statuesque gaze, she spoke up.

    "I think we should take a break for a couple days. Something''s not right here, and I need to think it all over. If someone else is in here with us, and he''s doing whatever he wants, we need to be prepared."

    I wasn''t going to argue with a somber Maya. "That''s not a bad idea. A break wouldn''t hurt, and I could use a night of actual sleep to let this wound heal. In two nights, we''ll meet here at the usual time?"

    "Sure. Let''s head up to bed."

    As we walked back into the castle, I noticed Zox had already curled up beside a tree near where we''d fought the mage.

    "Hey, Zox. What''re you doing? Come sleep inside the castle."

    He looked up at me, and though he was a good distance away, I saw his eyes light up like candles in the dying light. He caught up with us, stopping on his way in to rest a hand on my shoulder.

    "Thank you, Reza," he said with a smile before shifting his attention to the grand interior of our home. "This place is marvelous. Absolutely stunning."

    "Thanks. Some day, I''ll take you around and explain some of the stuff," I told him, noting Maya had gone straight upstairs. "But not today--I should follow her. If you go to the left and follow the hall, there''s a guest bedroom before the dining hall. Make yourself at home. We''ll be awake in two days."

    "Humans sleep a lot."

    "So do bears."

    "Oh, this is where I should laugh!" He exclaimed with sudden fervor, grunting awkwardly. It wasn''t even close, but it sounded better than the previous abominations.

    "Your timing is better! Next time, don''t announce it beforehand. It won''t be long now before you get the technique down. See you later, Zox."

    I found Maya sitting on the bed, eyes full of thought. I''ve never seen her like this before.

    "You okay?"

    She snapped out of her daydream, warmth returning to her face. "Yeah, don''t worry about it. I guess I''m just worried we''re losing this place, that''s definitely part of it. I''m fine, though! Let''s get out of here and take a little reverse vacation, huh? That wound looks pretty bad, by the way."

    "Yeah, it hurts like hell, but it''ll be fine by the time I''m back." I climbed into bed, watching sunset through dark, pinkish windows. "By the way, I have a question."

    "What''s up?"

    "Do you think Zox is a real person, like us? Or just part of the world?"

    "Well, I guess I haven''t thought about that. If the mage is just this place running wild, couldn''t Zox be as well? Even if the mage isn''t, I feel like Zox has to be. He''s so weird."

    "That''s a good point. Well, whatever--let''s go to bed." I turned to her.

    She''s already asleep.

    With a kiss on the cheek, I whispered goodnight to her and pulled a yellow crystal, like a lemon geode, out from the nightstand. Once it clicked into the lock above our bed, a low hum washed over the keep grounds as a protective barrier surrounded our castle. It blanketed the sky, swallowing us in an aurora like a dome of slick oil.

    It''s really weird, falling asleep in order to wake up. One minute, the sun''s going down, my eyes are closed and I''m thinking, the next. . .

    My eyes opened to darkness, and I stretched across an empty bed. I checked the alarm clock on my nightstand: 4:52 A.M.

    The next, I''m sitting in a dark room, waiting for sunset to come again.

    I set my left arm down as leverage to push myself out of bed and pain seared through it, my nerves screaming for help.

    My. . . my left arm feels like it''s being stabbed. Am I still dreaming?