《Princess Rinoa Reudinger》 Chapter 1 ¡®Everybody all around the world, gotta tell you what I just heard¡¯ As my mind shifted from trying not to think about Stella to concentrating on the fruit punch that I had ordered, I found that it actually worked. Well, that was also due to the in-club radio playing All Over the World by Electric Light Orchestra, so that explains a lot. It¡¯s a great song, what can I say? Dale had worn his almost drunk expression, still chugging down mug after mug of a rare combination that was conjured by the bartender which he explicitly stated he wanted. And then, this is what happens. His red polo shirt had been stained black and the overflowing mug had begun to drip all over his jeans. And he wasn¡¯t even halfway done with the first. Lined up to his right arm were another three more mugs. ¡°Everybody everywhere is gonna¡¯ feel tonight,¡± Dale repeated the chorus to the song while his drunken lips sang flatly. ¡°What are they gonna¡¯ feel, Zyler? Seriously, these songs are just messing with my head.¡± He was preparing to waste himself, finishing that first mug, but I pulled it away from him before his stupor took over, forehead slamming hard into the glass table. ¡°You¡¯re drunk, and you¡¯re wasting money,¡± I said. ¡°And besides, you¡¯re not the only one with problems.¡± ¡°You got girl problems. You gon¡¯ get over it,¡± he said drunkenly. ¡°I got job problems. I ain¡¯t gon¡¯ get over it.¡± I picked up my fruit punch mug and continued to take a couple of sips while letting my eyes roam the mini-club. ¡°Look at these people. Dancing, singing. Having a great time. I should go.¡± Dale started to push himself away from the table but I latched onto his arm with my hand. ¡°Stop. You¡¯re drunk,¡± I said. ¡°And I¡¯m wasting money,¡± he continued, and sat back down on the round blue seat. I¡¯d envisioned a scenario like this, though not quite perfectly in my mind. And that was mainly because when you¡¯ve broken up with someone, your mind just drifts anyway. You don¡¯t control where it goes because when you do, you start to think back again to that one thing. Then, that one thing morphs into the thing you don¡¯t want to see, and now you¡¯re hitting yourself again. It sucks, I thought. Stella¡¯s a bitch, and I¡¯m supposedly the wall breaker. I gulped down the fruit punch, thinking that I had bought a bourbon and so that made the taste a little more forgiving. But it wasn¡¯t satisfactory and I thought that was the problem. Stella¡¯s left my life and nothing is satisfactory anymore. My hobbies are still there, but they¡¯ve become draining and so that was why I paid more attention to her. Well, I guess that never really paid off. I scanned the room again, lifting the punch but then quickly realized that it was empty and sat it down, laughing to myself. The people were having a good time. No, they were having a great time. And I wasn¡¯t. Blueberry Bar probably doesn¡¯t do a lot of club time routines past the evening hour, and now there were probably at least twenty people in here, and that wasn¡¯t counting Dale and me. For some reason, my mind just wants to go back, but I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t want to replace my doused feelings for that fake sense of satisfaction, because it¡¯s gone. It¡¯s fake because it¡¯s gone, or it¡¯s gone therefore it¡¯s fake. Or whatever that makes sense with.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I¡¯d gotten a little far too attached to my first love, as the narcissistic lovers would argue about on the internet, and so I deserved that little whooping down in my heart. Well, curse them. Love is still love. The love I deserve is still love. But Stella? The love she deserves is a rock thrown at her face. Okay, too much. I shouldn¡¯t have said that. I apologise. She¡¯s still a bitch, though. ¡®Friday night, it was late; I was walking you home; We got down to the gate; And I was dreaming of the night.¡¯ Reminiscing by Little River Band begun to play in my mind, and for a second those words immediately took me back to those little moments with Stella. Sharing a glass of ice chocolate cake, a kiss on the rock overlooking Ford Garden and our short trip from the tall heights in the cable car. Good memories, I thought, but roughly specific. I was focusing on the good things. The tiniest little cute things. Her facial expression. Her worn eyelashes hovering over those crystal blue eyes. Her kiss-ready lips. And her kissing another man before me with carnation in hand. You didn¡¯t need much straws to break the camel¡¯s back. I was ready to break my empty glass mug into the table, but then something pulled me back. She didn¡¯t deserve it. She didn¡¯t deserve me losing my temper on her. If, anything at all, she was just a passenger that I happened to enjoy company with. But now she¡¯s arrived at her stop and so she doesn¡¯t deserve to linger around anymore. The words of internet lovers reminded me again: you never forget your first love. Yeah, no shit. You never forget the first time you break your leg too. I had to keep my mind away from these thoughts since they weren¡¯t helping anyone, and they weren¡¯t helping me, which was the main reason why. My eyes had begun to look again. At first there were empty sights, or empty stares. Then, I figured that I was looking for someone in the sea of dancers. Stella, of course. Who else would I be looking for? The girl sat in the lonely corner with a blue pen and white paper, drawing? Wait, what? Drawing? The girl dressed in a long purple skirt was drawing in the sharp corner, her tools for her activity spewed across the round glass table. I had to look through the dancers to get to her, but she was so involved in her drawing that didn¡¯t seem to have much time to interact with anyone, much less even herself. I checked my watch. It was over 10 p.m. Drawing in a bar, and one that was overcrowded and playing 70¡¯s and 80¡¯s hits on repeat? Was she typically drunk, or was she innocently drunk? Perhaps she was, well, just drunk. That explained it. That had to. Nobody arrives in a bar expecting to do their homework, much less strut around looking like they were about to write their lovely novel here. It was just the wrong place for that. Still, I was intrigued. What was she drawing? Why did she come here? Was she alone? All these questions needed answers, and pondering in this I was in definitely didn¡¯t help. ¡°Hey Dale-¡± I turned to see his lips sticking out like a sore thumb with his saliva spilling out from the open gap in his mouth. It was a rare sight. And also a sight that I would never want to see again. I walked towards the formally dressed bartender behind the counter, who was a good friend back in my college days. ¡°Hi Daniel,¡± I greeted him and he nodded. ¡°Sup Zyler.¡± He wasn¡¯t having any customers and Dale could hardly spell his name right under this drunken spell, and so I decided to look for him to help. ¡°Could you take care of Dale for me?¡± I asked softly. Daniel displayed an expression of curiosity and frustration, just like one of his weird cocktail combinations. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°He¡¯s drunk.¡± Daniel rolled his eyes, reminding me of one his favourite phrases, which he happened to blurt out. ¡°Not again.¡± He watched Dale, his slump back unmoved. I held up my hands. ¡°I know, I know. My fault. He shouldn¡¯t have drank so much but, what do you know? He got fired.¡± ¡°He drinks whether or not he¡¯s employed.¡± Daniel lifted his sleeves on his left hand to check his watch, and gave me a daunting look. ¡°You¡¯re driving him home?¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m not driving today.¡± He glared at me as if he was about to shoot the frustration through his eyes. ¡°Fine. But this is the last time,¡± he said. I smiled at him, but Daniel didn¡¯t reciprocate. ¡°Thanks, buddy,¡± I said. ¡°What are you going to do?¡± He asked, preparing to serve two new customers as they approached the counter. ¡°Enjoy the rest of my night,¡± I said and turned, starting my way towards the girl in the corner. Chapter 2 I¡¯d worn my long black pants that looked like cargo fitting, and they didn¡¯t seem denim to me, even underneath the dim lights of the bar. Which sort of made less sense for an artist - which this girl could be - to start drawing here with her back against the vibrations of the rumbling speakers. So I walked past a few waiters serving popular cocktails and drinks, and slid past a few more dancers who were getting involved with themselves and getting frisky. The girl hadn¡¯t noticed me, and I¡¯m sure nobody would since I was a no-name recognition that didn¡¯t mind no attention. When I finally got to the sharp corner, the other seats were occupied except for her table. She was alone, still drawing, but I was there. Her table had been filled with tons of papers, drawings of open fields and a dastardly odd-looking tower that resembled a high kingdom. The work she was starting on was one rough draft of a crystalline ocean. There was a sense of depth and tranquil to it. Whatever that meant. ¡°Hi,¡± I said and smiled. She didn¡¯t turn her head. So she¡¯s obviously involved in her drawing and didn¡¯t hear you, stupid, I thought. Let¡¯s try again. ¡°Hey,¡± I said again. ¡°Hi. Do I know you?¡± She lifted her chin and stopped her work, staring at me. I didn¡¯t know why, but perhaps it¡¯s just me trying to get over the looks of Stella on my mind, but she was gorgeous. She wore a golden necklace, but I didn¡¯t pay much attention to that. ¡°Uh, no. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met,¡± I said. ¡°But I think this is a good point for us to sort of get to know each other. What do you think?¡± Before she had time to react I stretched out my right hand to her. ¡°My name¡¯s Zyler. Zyler Buxton.¡± Maybe she didn¡¯t want to know my name and I was overplaying it, but either way, it was better to get names out first. She smiled widely and returned to her drawing, leaving the bar¡¯s cold breeze to slap my hand. I reeled it back in. ¡°Are you alone?¡± I asked politely. No reason to make her outright think that a geek would chase her skirt. But since she¡¯s too pretty to be here, perhaps that she¡¯s gotten more of that than most would have liked. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. She didn¡¯t sound too monotonous, or a scared or afraid. ¡°I see.¡± I was running out of words and standing next to someone who was drawing, or eating their delicious meal didn¡¯t help to aid the awkward situation. ¡°Is anyone sitting here?¡± She¡¯s going to say ¡°yes, now screw off¡±. ¡°Nope,¡± she said. ¡°You can sit if you want.¡± Once again, her head didn¡¯t lift and she was no stranger to talking little. I wasn¡¯t a stranger too, but I wasn¡¯t very good at it either. There were four seats surrounding one glass table, and I took the one opposite of her. As I glanced down at her artwork, things were getting clear. Perhaps it was just the angle that I was standing from. It just disallowed me anything to see. She finally looked up, surprised that I had indeed sat and proceeded to shift her tools and drawings aside. ¡°Would you like a drink?¡± She asked. The smile returned to her glowing red lips. ¡°Oh, I had enough. I came from another bar and I was looking for a friend.¡± She tilted her head, grabbing her cup of outside coffee and drinking it. She was weird. Drawing in a bar and drinking something that wasn¡¯t even served in the bar. The only other reason was that she was just there for the atmosphere. But who am I kidding? Atmosphere? If I were an art student, or professor, which I am invariably not, I would not even stick a foot into this place. Though, not that I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a bad idea for an art student or professor to enter, it just wouldn¡¯t work as well if you¡¯re doing whatever it is you¡¯re doing. Which is drawing. And it just doesn¡¯t work here. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Have you found your friend?¡± She placed the cup down after a few sips. Steam was still dispersing from the top of the cup, and so she must¡¯ve just entered not long ago. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s, uh,¡± I scratched the back of my head. Should I say? What¡¯s the harm anyway? She¡¯ll know sooner or later that I¡¯ll be checking on Dale, but if she doesn¡¯t care, then I should just keep my mouth shut. Or answer the question with a white lie. ¡°Well he wasn¡¯t here. I¡¯ve been waiting for him for the last hour, and I saw you here, drawing so I just wanted to say hi.¡± She pushed the pencil in her hand, back to lookless conversations. Am I really disgusting? Was that why Stella left me in the first place? I was a little too hard on women. I must have been. That¡¯s why that bitch up and left- ¡°Was he late?¡± She asked, her eyes fixated on getting the curvature of the ocean waves right, stroking her pencil in a multitude of ways. ¡°Yeah. He was fired, too.¡± She paused her actions, and in way started chuckling softly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I just found it funny that he was both late and fired,¡± she explained herself. ¡°No, no worries. I didn¡¯t expect it to, if I¡¯m honest,¡± I said. I just kept watching the way she drew, but then her jet-black hair got in the way a couple of times when she eventually tried to nail down the perfect angle for one of the trees she was drawing. It had all been in black too, with no colours, except for her other finished drawings. Well, they weren¡¯t as finished as they were with longform colours, but they were kind of finished. ¡°May I ask what it is you are drawing, miss?¡± I asked, hoping that she¡¯ll give me answer that wasn¡¯t to turn me away. ¡°The Mystic Isles,¡± she replied quickly. ¡°It¡¯s a cool place.¡± Her tone was a little raspy when she said it. Had she been there before? I took another glance at it. The Mystic Isles. The name might have implied a great deal about the place, but the way she drew would catch someone by surprise of that name. ¡°Where is it? I¡¯ve never seen it before?¡± I asked. She didn¡¯t answer. I can understand why. I don¡¯t usually tell people that the stories are write are actually stories about them. Especially Dale. He¡¯s name has been dropped in and out of my short stories, and he¡¯s the bumbling villain too, getting slapped and slammed by the superheroes. But she was keeping her cards close to herself, and somehow I didn¡¯t want to pry. Not like I usually do. It¡¯s bad manners to keep knocking on a closed door when the people inside have already told you to screw off. ¡°What about the other drawings? The one with the tower,¡± I pointed to it so she knew. There were a couple of them, all in different sizes and different perspectives. ¡°That¡¯s the castle of Estoria,¡± she responded and lifted her head towards me. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d like to know where it is too?¡± I nodded, looking into those deep sapphire eyes that sparkled. Somehow they reminded me of Stella. Perhaps it was the colour, or perhaps it was because I was entranced. Well, what do you know? I¡¯m a little sucker for good eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you, and I can¡¯t show it to you, too,¡± she said. ¡°So why are you drawing them? Do they hold some sort of memory?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she responded optimistically, her eyes watching her drawing as if they had come to life. The waves crashing upon the open sea. Tall swaying trees. There was hidden emotion that I may have tapped into. ¡°I draw these places to remind myself that I was there,¡± she continued. ¡°I see.¡± Her mobile, tucked away into the folding pictures on the side rang, and as she checked the caller her expression changed. ¡°Hello?¡± She greeted with fine enthusiasm. Slowly, as the call went on, I noticed that the wide smile across her face was now wiped clean. She lowered her head as she saw me looking. Feeling guilty, I turned to the dancers, pretending that I hadn¡¯t intruded into her conversation. She was just saying ¡°yes¡± and ¡°okay¡± sporadically throughout the call. If anything, that was a bad sign. I¡¯ve been on the worst end of a few, so I knew a little about it. She tossed her phone aside when the call ended, red faced. She was hiding her expressions, probably for fear of me knowing that she had been this way, or of some sort. But, needless, I don¡¯t really care. I think I should, though. ¡°What was that about?¡± I said. She wasn¡¯t speaking again. Or rather, she wasn¡¯t speaking to me. Or did she not speak to everyone, and anyone? I don¡¯t know. At this point in time, the girl not speaking to me was probably aided by that phone call, so it wasn¡¯t just the usual speaking. She began packing her drawings, her pencils, her tools and slotted them orderly into a bag that she carried, preparing to leave. ¡°Wait,¡± I said. I don¡¯t know why. ¡°Can I bring you to some place?¡± She stopped and stared, her blue eyes now doused with fury. I wasn¡¯t even sure if she would go there, let alone the place hopefully cure her problem -- whatever it was. ¡°If you want,¡± I continued. Her bag had been loosely slung, sloshing around her waist and her tools and drawings exposed out from the open gap. ¡°Where?¡± She asked. ¡°It¡¯s just up from here.¡± I grabbed her right hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I didn¡¯t see if she was angry or if she was embarrassed that I had taken her hand without asking. After all, I had only wanted to make her feel better. It wasn¡¯t love, or anything. It couldn¡¯t be. We dashed through the dancers, up the stairs of the bar and out onto the streets where my sleek black jacket flew in the wind, all while Christopher Cross¡¯s Ride Like the Wind lead our charge. Chapter 3 I hardly knew her, and she hardly knew me, but we were running alongside the twinkling lamp posts that lined up on the edge of the street, illuminating our way forward. It sounds so cheesy, two non-lovers holding hands and running. Which then hit me; what if she had a partner all along? Worse, what if she was married? I pushed the thoughts aside. Impossible. I turned to watch her as she did her best to run on the same wavelength with me. That was when I slowed down, and when I saw her sweating and panting, and me too, and how exhausting it had all been chasing the moonlight that was shining down on us, I realized that she had been roped into this little run for no reason. ¡°Where are we going?¡± She asked and we stopped to catch our breaths. ¡°Just a little further up ahead,¡± I spoke in between the breathing. ¡°Is it far?¡± I shook my head slightly. ¡°Not very.¡± I pointed to the garden ahead of us, hidden behind the arch bridge. ¡°It¡¯s just there.¡± She walked up beside me, continuing to catch her breath. ¡°I never caught your name,¡± she said. ¡°You did,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t catch yours.¡± She looked surprised. ¡°What was your name?¡± She asked. ¡°Zyler Buxton,¡± I said. The surprised look stayed. She reached out her sweaty palm and we exchanged handshakes. ¡°I¡¯m Rinoa Reudinger,¡± she said, softly. Weird name, was all I could think of when I¡¯d finally heard it. ¡°That¡¯s specifically long,¡± I said. That wasn¡¯t what I felt was weird about it. ¡°I guess not everybody likes long last names.¡± ¡°No-no, that wasn¡¯t what I meant. It just felt long.¡± Shit, shouldn¡¯t have said that in the first place. Now I just look like a fool. I turned towards the arch bridge, then to the small hill before the arch bridge, the moon still hanging in the clouds above. ¡°Come on. We¡¯re almost there,¡± I said. I pulled her hand again, and now she ran with me. The night wind was cold and breezy, and that helped to alleviate some of the sweat and heat that was surging through us. It wasn¡¯t a bad night to be running in. Though I could hardly forget the place I was taking Rinoa too. Speaking of which, her first name sounded weird too. I just figured that if I do accidentally say her name wrong it would be replacing the ¡®n¡¯ and ¡®o¡¯ in her name. Rinoa. Riona. Both names looked alright to me, but the pronunciation would give it away for sure. I couldn¡¯t believe too, that I was dragging Rinoa to Ford Garden, or rather near there, where Stella I shared our first kiss. It was under the moonlit night too, so that added an extra spice to the occasion. Nevertheless, spices can only add so much to an unsalvageable relationship and a doomed friendship. But I was taking Rinoa there. Somehow, it was the first thing I thought. It was the only place I knew where, if Stella enjoyed the view as much as I was and shared the lonely silence together, then it wouldn¡¯t be lonely. We would be able to see the lushness of the Ford Garden and the lights that were still on, and then there would be the cold thrill of just watching it. That seemed romantic in my head, but I don¡¯t think Rinoa and I have reached that level yet. Well, we did just met fifteen minutes ago. We approached the bridge, but instead of going on it, we climbed the short steep hill that spiralled up to a flat surface. On the top of the hill there was a small rock that could easily be sat by one or two. It wasn¡¯t rocky nor was it too uncomfortable. Stella had convinced me that even if it was, the view beyond us would compensate for everything. I didn¡¯t disagree. I gestured Rinoa to the rock, letting her sit first and directed her eyes towards Ford Garden. I sat down beside her, watching her facial expressions, and her lips. She was speechless and stunned, or I guess that was what she was feeling since she hadn¡¯t spoken since a while back. But she pressed her lips as I watched, and realising how creepy my actions were I turned towards the Garden.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Nice, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked, though that really wasn¡¯t a question. If it was, it wasn¡¯t rhetorical too. ¡°Yes,¡± she muttered. I assumed that she was taking it all in, though I dared not to look. The creepy factor was one thing, but the view from where we were was just too irresistible. Still, just sitting on the rocks took me back to the time Stella and I was here. She was stunning too, in her tied ponytails and a dark jacket on, and we cuddled while we watched the glittering lights in the Garden. I hadn¡¯t taken anyone to that view since I knew of it, and Stella was the first. I don¡¯t intend to make Rinoa the last. While Stella and I appreciated the silence, I felt like Rinoa probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate that sentiment. But what do I know? ¡°So,¡± I spoke, making a rough hand gesture, ¡°what was that call about?¡± She didn¡¯t speak. Not just for a while, but for a long time. I watched her eyes as they widened, still looking onto the Garden. Then, her eyes matched mine. ¡°A call that broke everything,¡± she said. Her tone was mired with a form of delicate sadness, and she tried her best to hide it. But I heard it. ¡°Did it have something to do with the drawings?¡± I asked. It was the only conclusion I got to, so that was what I went for. ¡°Yeah. Kind of,¡± she replied. ¡°But they were also a form of catharsis to me. Was that how you said that word?¡± Catharsis. Suddenly the word sounded foreign to me, but the way she said it sounded correct. I nodded to Rinoa. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad that I¡¯m feeling that now.¡± She smiled and turned her head back towards the Garden, and I did the same. I understood how she felt. It wasn¡¯t just for an emphatic response, but as an aspiring writer with piling reject letters? That¡¯s rough. There was a sense of wonder to her when I finally realized why I had decided to take her hand and run in the first place, and why she never at all, decided to break mine and leave. It wasn¡¯t because she was drawn in or anything, it didn¡¯t seem likely, but she had been broken. The view that we were sharing allowed us to peek into the Garden, and that was what she needed. Catharsis. That was it. ¡°You know, I used to take a friend here,¡± I said absentmindedly. ¡°She wasn¡¯t the best at making judgements, or anything. She was, well-¡± I racked my brain to find the correct word ¡°-happy, here. I think that she liked the place.¡± I touched my pockets and brought out my phone. I didn¡¯t know if she was listening, but I hoped that she was. Perhaps Rinoa was still enjoying the view and that my words had become an intrusion into her bubble. Maybe now that I¡¯d taken her here, she¡¯ll be here all the time to draw and to reminisce about something in her past. The Mystic Isles, or whatever that was. I turned on my music player and flipped through a few songs. What was I looking for? Something to fit the mood? A slow ballad from the 70s? A new wave classic from the 80s? It didn¡¯t even occur to me ¨C what if she hated music from that era? Curse it, I thought. No matter what, the music would just be an added distraction. If she didn¡¯t like it, and she didn¡¯t understand, then I guess that would be all on me. And yeah, that would be an added distraction after all. Curse it, I thought again. I¡¯ll just play whatever I thought would work. I scrolled the tracks, letting my finger do the work and eventually stopping on a random track. Release Me by Wilson Phillips. Not all that bad. I pressed the play button and turned the volume up, but I didn¡¯t make it too deafening. Just soft enough that it played in the background while I watched Rinoa- As I turned to glance at her, her eyes turned black. Cracking through the blackness were an abundance of colours, trying to escape, yelling green, red and blue amongst others. Her hands were clutching her golden necklace, and all I could think of was how horrific her eyes, as black and brooding as they were, had become almost inhuman-like. It came straight out from a horror sketch. ¡°Rinoa? What¡¯s happening?¡± I called out to her. With an outreached hand I grabbed her shoulders. An electrical sensation surged through me, and my sight turned pitch-black. When they returned, I was now tumbling, in a different place altogether, away from the Garden and the rock, and the bar. I was in an open field with - I suppose - wheat. It was all around me, waving and dancing in the strong open wind. Tall. Beige. Waving. The air was strong too, brushing up against my skin. ¡°Hey!¡± I heard Rinoa¡¯s voice, and I turned to see her in her purple dress skipping through the open field. Just behind her stood a massive tower, like a kingdom with open cracks in certain areas. There was an oasis, I could clearly see, off in the distance just to the side of the tower, glitter spraying in the air. I tried to run to Rinoa, but I wasn¡¯t moving. I wasn¡¯t even running, but that wasn¡¯t possible. What the hell is this? Where the hell am I? This felt like a dream. Weird, unlike Riona¡¯s last name, but a dream nonetheless. ¡°Hey!¡± She called out to me again, waving desperately from across the open field. ¡°Come over here!¡± ¡°I can¡¯t! I¡¯m stuck!¡± I yelled to her. ¡°What?!¡± I ran, as fast as I could and as much as I could, but I remained in the same place. It seemed that the world was revolving around me, but I couldn¡¯t do anything. As I continued to run, a black thunder emerged behind Rinoa where the kingdom stood. Then it struck again, and again, demolishing the massive tower and sending it crumbling as it spewed debris from the crash. By the fourth or fifth hit, I noticed that the thunder wasn¡¯t just striking in the same area, but it was approaching. Between the chaos in the sky and me was Rinoa, and I then I could feel it. The thunder was coming for her. ¡°Rinoa! Run!¡± I yelled as loud as I could. ¡°Run!¡± I yelled again, the sore in my throat bulging and burning, but she stood and watched me. ¡°Why? Come over here!¡± She hadn¡¯t heard the rumblings, nor the strike of lightning, but that was impossible. Everything was loud. A little too much, yes, but it was ear-shattering now. If Rinoa didn¡¯t move, she would get hit by the thunder. I can¡¯t let that happen. I ran, and it didn¡¯t work. I made it simple, placing one foot over the other, then my next foot over it, and continued to do so, but I couldn¡¯t move. I was stuck in the same place. Stuck in the same shit. If I don¡¯t move and grab Rinoa, she¡¯s going to get hit. She¡¯s going to die. As the storm cloud above the kingdom shifted its position after it was done, it flew towards me. But before that, a black wave flew out from Rinoa, and it hit the environment around us. Suddenly I stopped moving, and so did the thunder, dissipating in the sky. I watched her as she crumpled, disappearing into the fields. The electrical sensation surged through me again, then blackness covered my sights. ¡®Cause¡¯ we want to be free, but somehow it¡¯s just not that easy.¡¯ Chapter 4 I was sent tumbling back into the real world as my phone flew off from me, the song still playing. My head was swirling from the events that took place, trying to figure just what in the hell had happened. What was that? That wasn¡¯t a dream, no. I tried to move but my ached from the fall. I turned to see Rinoa, lying motionless on the ground, her necklace gleaming red. Curse it. That thing is cursed, I thought. The wheat, the open air, the kingdom and the thunder. I left those questions in the backburner of my mind and made my way towards Rinoa. The pain was aggravating, but at least it didn¡¯t render my movement obsolete. I picked up my phone along the way, muting the track and bent my knees next to her. ¡°Rinoa?¡± I decided whether to shook her shoulders or not. I didn¡¯t want to be thrown into that same place again, though I that felt surreal and authentic. Was that magic? In the real world? Was she a- Rinoa coughed awake, her eyes returning to the colour of blue. Not that I was expecting it to radiate the colours as it did before, but still. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I lifted her up from ground, sitting her on the rock that we were on before. Her bag had been tossed on the floor, and I helped retrieved it for her. ¡°I feel sick,¡± she said, slinging the bag on her shoulders. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked, taking a seat beside her. She was pale, lips white. Something was terribly wrong with her. ¡°No,¡± she replied. ¡°But I¡¯m okay.¡± I watched her as she curled up slowly from her feet to her head, the cold night playing an added factor to her current condition. ¡°What happened back there?¡± I asked. It was only a matter of time before someone who had been so seriously affected would have asked. Won¡¯t anyone? Being thrown into a new world, and one that looked so authentic and - I was searching for the word - tangible. I felt like the tall wheat back there in the open field was physical and concrete. I could grab it. I could shake it. I could pull it. I could feel it. ¡°The Pasture Necklace,¡± she said softly, pulling the strings that held it. She was wearing it still, not sure why, after what just happened. ¡°The what?¡± ¡°The Pasture Necklace,¡± she repeated, slower this time. ¡°It transports the user back to Estoria, where they are able to see visions of the past or the future.¡± She lost me at the necklace, and so the rest of the sentence was incomprehensible, or unbelievable. I didn¡¯t know what to believe, but my eyes weren¡¯t lying and my back was still aching, so her explanation must have been true. I stood up and paced myself back and forth, trying to tie the knots around these thoughts. She must¡¯ve been a witch, I thought to myself. A superhero? Was that a superpower? The necklace grants the user something rather magnificent, or substantial. I mean, how does it all even work? There was no way that could have been in this world, or on earth, or a virtual reality game. No way. What was that supposed to mean? Being able to see the grandiose of the other world, but then stepping in and - ah, I was just running around in circles. Suddenly what I had seen had inflated my mind and my questions, but I decided that she knew the answers, and the necklace had been from her. ¡°How did you get that necklace?¡± I asked her. ¡°I got it from my grandmother when I was ten years old,¡± she said, turning to look up at me. ¡°I know this is a lot to take in.¡± No, this wasn¡¯t a lot to take in. This was like an eternity of running in circles. There was no way that whatever the hell I experienced was real. There is absolutely no cursing way that it was. ¡°The thing I saw,¡± I paused, lining up my next few words in my mind, ¡°was that from the future?¡± The black thunder. The kingdom. The oasis. The kingdom was demolished, and the rampaging thunder was coming for Rinoa next. ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°But it is long in the future.¡± ¡°You said that users can choose to see visions of the past or the future. Why the future?¡± Rinoa dropped her head slowly. ¡°I¡¯ve been having visions of that for quite some time. When I saw the garden and the view we had, I immediately thought of Estoria. But whenever I choose to see visions of the future of there, it always ends with the thunder. Always.¡± ¡°What about the black wave?¡± I asked. ¡°It enveloped everything. It was more crazier than the thunder, in some way.¡± ¡°That was my curse.¡± She stopped speaking, and I stopped walking. Curse? She had a curse placed on her? Okay, now everything that was stirring in the pot had been knocked over, and I suppose that there would be more still leaking. I realised that the metaphor didn¡¯t work as well as it did, but I thought I did fine. ¡°What curse?¡± I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear of the answer or not. ¡°That I would die if the dragon of Temper was not killed and that the heart was not ,¡± she took a deep breath, ¡°in a year from now.¡± Thunders, kingdoms, oasis, crazy necklace and now a dragon? What? A DRAGON? ¡°The spitfire kind, or the flame-breathing kind?¡± I wanted to make sure, though that probably didn¡¯t make much sense to ask. She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°Both? I guess.¡± ¡°Please tell me this gets crazier,¡± I said. ¡°I can take you there,¡± she said. My eyes gleamed at Rinoa. That was what I meant, with the crazier part. ¡°I can take you to Estoria,¡± she said with a smile. Estoria. Was that the place she was seeing? Was that the place I was at before? The fields and all. Rinoa coughed, the pain residing in her body striking again. She needed to help from a doctor. Or, rather, help from her side of the doctor, even if there is one. ¡°Where is this,¡± I made a flailing gesture with my hands, ¡°Estoria?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Through a Glimmer Portal, at my home.¡± I didn¡¯t want to believe, but with what I saw and with what she said, I don¡¯t think I had much of a choice. The best thing now was to take her to someplace where they could cure the pain. But she said it was a curse, and that it could only be broken from the slaying of a dragon, so then how does one cure it? It can¡¯t be, can it? Technically speaking, if the curse was strong and imbedded in her for a long time, then she would, well, die regardless. Either way, wherever Rinoa came from, she needed to go back. I¡¯m starting to wonder how I got myself into this crazy little mess, from just a sight of a girl in the corner to now being absolutely entranced by what I had witnessed and heard. Rinoa¡¯s quite the gem, but then the warning of her death hit me. She needed someone to slay that dragon, be it true or not, be it real or fake. She needed someone to take care of business so she could live. But who could do it? She started to stand, but the pain hammered her legs and she fell to the wayside before I could catch her. ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± I gave her my shoulder and she climbed on with her arms around me. Her veins, as I saw when she threw them, had several inks of black dotted all over. Time was running out, I said to myself. If she was as she is, not from this place, then no doctor on earth could cure that curse. They couldn¡¯t even identify it, and it would take them months - years, to fully find the remedy. And by then, Rinoa would¡¯ve succumbed to it anyway. ¡°Where do you live?¡± I asked, carrying her down the spiral hill and got to the edge of the streets. She answered, and I hailed for a taxi. When it arrived, I carefully placed her in first, her body tensing slightly, colder now than before. Rinoa¡¯s legs were shaking and her eyes had dimmed. The taxi had to be fast. I repeated her address to the driver and he nodded, slamming on the pedal. I watched Rinoa as she closed her eyes. Her house was a distance away, so it would be some time before we actually reached. When I pulled out my phone, my music player was still running, though on mute. The tracks had been shuffled, and it had landed on I¡¯m A Believer by The Monkees. Ironic, I wondered, casting a look on her. Guess I¡¯m in it. *** The stark night was coloured blue, and the taxi finally reached Rinoa¡¯s house a few streets down. She lived in Edmonton where the estates were lined shortly alongside the roads, spaced evenly apart, on a small lot. The lamp lights provided enough glow for us to see clearly. I carried her out of the taxi slowly, lending a shoulder so she could stand better. I paid for the fare and the driver went on its way, driving down towards a bend. When I saw Rinoa¡¯s house, I was a little stunned. Okay, maybe I was a little miffed too, for some reason that was a little too clear. Her lot was decorated with tiny gnomes spread from each other, like mini guardians to protect against burglars. Rinoa¡¯s wallpaper was painted marigold, though it wasn¡¯t too striking during the night, and her roof a dark ceramic red. Those were the features that first caught my eyes, which then moved on to a convenient low porch that allowed me to carry Rinoa up with much ease. She fiddled her bag for her door key while I took another look around. A wide bench had been placed outside of the house for those sunshine hours I suppose, and a thorny cactus hidden in a corner that seemed to have been showered with love everyday without fail. ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, jutting the key into the keyhole. ¡°I¡¯m just glad that you¡¯ve been a great help.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. I wasn¡¯t sure what to say next, and instead focused on what I shouldn¡¯t say: looks, love, and a final one that was escaping me. Sympathy, I thought. No, that can¡¯t be it. When we entered, Rinoa reached the switches to turn on the lights. The bulb hanging in the living room lit up, reflecting the shine of the polished wooden floor and the cased paintings that decorated the walls. ¡°Wow,¡± I muttered. The paintings had were all over the place, as I saw. From where I stood, peering into the other rooms, there were even more. Some of the designs were abstract, like a single tall tree sitting on a plot of land, or a hundred chicken-like creatures that wielded sharp sticks. It could be told easily from a near-glance that it was hand drawn, all of it. And that must have been one of the benefits of the curse. To draw like no tomorrow, and still be able to afford a house thrice the value of mine. ¡°Nobody cares about the paintings,¡± she said, and pointed to the room in the far back. ¡°You¡¯re the first.¡± ¡°Does nobody care because you never let anyone in, or does nobody care because they don¡¯t?¡± I asked, bringing her towards the room in the back. ¡°One time I brought a guy in. Tall, lanky. Wore spectacles that were a little too big for his eyes. All he cared about was the phone in his pocket, and when it wasn¡¯t, it would be the shape of his hair,¡± she said. ¡°I know about people like that.¡± I nodded. ¡°I try not to be one of them.¡± We entered a dimly lit room, sharing the remaining light from the living room, but it was clearly not enough. Rinoa lifted herself off, juggling to put both legs on the floor at the same time, but it worked. She was walking slowly, though I could see her clutching one hand on her stomach. ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± I asked, concerned. She didn¡¯t answer me. Somehow, that didn¡¯t bother me as much as it did the first few times. I guess I just got used to it. Rinoa threw her Pasture necklace down in the center of the room, and walked towards the desk on her right. There, she produced what was a fire striker, though I had never actually seen one in person before, and she struck the necklace with the striker. A radiating shine exploded in front of us. She stepped back as a violet water wall enclosed in fine black curvy pillars stood before us. The other side of the wall - or I suppose that was what it was - belonged to a patch of grass in a swarm of trees. ¡°What the hell,¡± I said, gasping loudly. ¡°What is this?¡± I approached the seemingly new reality. ¡°A Glimmer Portal,¡± Rinoa said. ¡°It is the gateway to Estoria.¡± She cracked a smile, but grimaced immediately as the pain struck again. I managed to grab a hold of her before she collapsed. When I held her, Rinoa was burning. She was cold before, but now the heat had overtaken her entire body. Time was wasted with every second that I was still on earth. But shit, do I even believe that this world that she calls Estoria exist? What if I¡¯m just dreaming? I¡¯m just imagining things? But she was in my arms, so this has to make sense, does it? It has to, there was no way. ¡°Step through the portal,¡± she instructed breathlessly. With our first foot off of the ground, we entered the portal to Estoria. Similar to dipping feet into water, the glimmer seemed to infect us, or rather just me. Blobs with starch that floated in the waves of water in between the pillars stuck to my open skin and clothes. I could feel my feet touching the ground on the other side, and feeling safe that there was actually land there. ¡°Next time,¡± she whispered, ¡°just throw yourself into it.¡± Her smile widened. I nodded, and carried her through the portal. *** We stumbled forward, the portal still gleaming, and Rinoa hopped off to close it with the fire striker. The glitter disappeared, as did the pillars, absorbed into the Pasture necklace. When I got on my feet and returned to carrying Rinoa, the trees that were in the portal were now humongous. Towering. It was a little creepy and eerie, and for some reason the lack of nature probably added to the fear. I¡¯m here, I thought, the surreality from earlier returning. I was finally in Estoria, or at least physically here, but it was¡­ different. Something was amiss. There was dead air, and no wheat, and tall trees. They all replaced the sense of wonder and open field that I had witnessed from Rinoa¡¯s Pasture necklace. The colours were similar, but everything else was just, as I said, different. ¡°Walk on,¡± she said, her voice turning softer and softer. I checked her eyes, but they were now shutting off completely. ¡°You need to-¡± ¡°Hold it, young man,¡± a gravelly voice spoke from behind me. ¡°Turn, move or run and I will decapitate you.¡± I gulped. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m not moving.¡± Rinoa spoke, but she was growing weak and I couldn¡¯t hear her well. I wasn¡¯t moving, not if someone decided to off my neck because I did. I stared at the hut off in the distance from the road that we were on, puffing smoke from its slanted chimney. ¡°You are a criminal!¡± He shouted. ¡°I¡¯m not a criminal!¡± I screamed back. ¡°Then why are you holding the princess?!¡± He yelled. Wait, what? I turned to look at Rinoa, but a pointed edge met the back of my neck. ¡°Turn, move or run and I will decapitate you,¡± he repeated. He meant business, and I don¡¯t want to mind his. At that moment, my phone rang. All I could think of was: you have got to be kidding me. Chapter 5 ¡®If you want it, here it is, come and get it,¡¯ my phone was singing and rumbling in my pocket, tempting its fate and mine. Not to forget, the blade, which I¡¯m pretty sure the sharp end was since no other options were left in the air, was still thinly close to my neck. ¡°Who the hell is singing?¡± The blade wielder asked. I imagined him turning around, half-tilting his head to check his surroundings as if someone was actually singing, not to forget playing percussion and guitars in a studio-built environment. ¡°It¡¯s my phone-¡± ¡°Hush,¡± he silenced me. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you.¡± Are you kidding me, I thought. He¡¯s not daft, but still. ¡°I can tell you-¡± ¡°Tell me, then,¡± he cut me off again. That was what I was trying to do. His voice was had risen slightly, but whenever he did it seemed that he was overreaching and trying to sound tough. He wasn¡¯t all that tough, though if I forgot about the blade trying to make friends with my neck, I wouldn¡¯t find him tough. ¡°I was going to,¡± I said. ¡°Stop wasting my time, boy!¡± ¡°This is a song from Badfinger, titled Come and Get It,¡± I explained. No sound emerged from him. For some reason I seemed to associate anyone with Rinoa to be too quiet. Just trying not to speak even though they could, and then objectively trying to avoid every little small talk or conversation. Speaking of Rinoa, she was still holding fine from my shoulders, though her pale face was now attached to weary. ¡°Never heard of it,¡± the stranger finally broke the silence, while my phone quietened. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, it¡¯s my ringtone,¡± I said. ¡°If we don¡¯t get your-¡± I paused, getting my ranks and titles in order, ¡°-princess to a doctor-¡± ¡°Is she hurt?!¡± He hurtled forward from behind, nearly spiking the side of my neck with his steel sword as it brushed past me. The man, in loose plated armor from top to bottom and an open helmet, revealing a rather large moustache and pointed nose, rushed to Rinoa¡¯s aid and pushed me aside. There was also an insignia located on his right shoulder, probably to denote his rank or who he served under. ¡°You hurt her!¡± He swung back around, sword in hand hanging under my chin. ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t hurt her. She suffered a curse and I brought her back.¡± I pointed to Rinoa¡¯s Pasture necklace, thinking that it would help me somehow. ¡°We came back using that necklace. Through the Glimmer Portal, I think, or whatever it was.¡± There was a stunned expression plastered on the man¡¯s face, as if he meant to say what did this little boy just said to me? ¡°It¡¯s true, I¡¯m not making this up. I had no idea she was a princess,¡± I lifted my hands up in the air to signal surrender, or defeat, or whatever to make him drop his sword. It was making me a little anxious, and too close to uncomfortability. It was like being stopped in place, being pointed at with a gun while somebody, I don¡¯t know, robbed your apartment. Though, Rinoa¡¯s not much of an apartment. ¡°Curse you,¡± he spat while shifting his eyes between me and Rinoa. ¡°You¡¯re lying. Everyone in Estoria knows that she¡¯s the princess!¡± ¡°See, that¡¯s something only Estorians, or what names you people go by would know. I¡¯m not from here!¡± I gestured to my loose shirt tucked underneath the thin jacket and my cargo pants. ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m from your world?¡± He strode back and forth, Rinoa hanging by his arms. She had gone sick. Terribly sick. Every second I watched her, I could see the colour of her lips wilting as the moderate wind passed us by. ¡°Please ask Rinoa,¡± I said. ¡°Princess Reudinger,¡± he corrected me, dangling his sword back at me. ¡°Yes, please ask your princess,¡± I corrected myself. I was still inherently trying to cope with finding out that the girl at the Blueberry Bar was a princess. A freaking princess. That¡¯s like waking up and finding out that a thousand servants are waiting for their daily instructions. Actually, that¡¯s terrible. I¡¯d have to tell all of them what to do, everyday, and that would be exhausting. No, I don¡¯t want to be a prince now that I¡¯ve figured. He turned to face Rinoa, and she whispered to him softly in his ears. There was a deadly stare that he returned as he listened to her speak, but then it waned after, and the sword he was lifting at me was carefully drawn. ¡°The princess has spoken, and she says that you are of no threat to Estorians,¡± he said. ¡°Thanks,¡± I nodded my head. ¡°Now-¡± ¡°Now you can go.¡± ¡°What?¡± This was wrong on multiple levels. First, I brought Rinoa in. Secondly, well, I¡¯m not sure, but I brought her in and that should account on at least three levels, or more. She¡¯s a princess, after all. ¡°You can¡¯t just send me away! Where the hell am I supposed to go?¡± I asked. The man hooked his arm around Rinoa, and began on their way towards the small hut in the distance. I supposed that was where he lived, his wielded sword now placed behind his back. Wait, did Rinoa not tell him about who the hell I was? I brought her back here! Well, not fully all the way, but I did help to some extent. If they were to go away now, and I were to stay here, where else would I go? Where else could I go? I watched them leave as I stood in my place like a statue shining for the Estoria sun. A hiss sounded from behind me, and I turned but nothing was there. The rustling of the plants near one of the shaded trees caught my attention, and then a voice spoke. ¡°Hello,¡± an orotund female voice spoke. She emerged, short and squat and old, from behind one of the moss covered stones with a straw-coned hat and a wooden walking stick, adding to her features of a rather distinct individual. She looked human enough, so that didn¡¯t scare me, but so did the stranger that whisked away Rinoa. ¡°Hey,¡± I responded, not sure what else to add. ¡°So,¡± she approached me slowly, ¡°what happened to the princess?¡± So she saw too, I thought. Does everyone know who the princess is? Well, to be fair, she was the princess. That¡¯s like saying who didn¡¯t know about the leader that stood above the high stones. Everyone knew. Other questions flooded in and I tried to make peace with them, even though they came all at once and in a swarm. There was hardly time for me to pick one and concentrate on it. ¡°She¡¯s hurt, and cursed. Some guy in white armor took her away for comfort.¡± She drove her walking stick into the front of my shoes, and I jumped. ¡°Ouch!¡± I yelped. ¡°What the hell was that for?¡± ¡°You fool,¡± she said. ¡°What if that guy was an imposter of an imperial guard? What if that guy was a smokescreen, and that he was trying to kill Estoria¡¯s dear princess? Have you thought about that?!¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I mumbled, unsure of my response. Of all the questions that I got, one of them was definitely not about Rinoa¡¯s safety. Curse it. If she dies then it¡¯s my fault. I turned my head, watching the tracks that the two lead as they disappeared into the hut after the door. There was no way this guy could be faking it. An imposter? His sword seemed real, after he almost stabbed me with it. His outfit looked rather important, so there was that. Everything seemed to fit the bill correctly. She was safe. But it wasn¡¯t something I could evidently confirm. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± She barked at me, as if it was a duty of mine to keep the princess safe. I mean, technically my job was done. Rinoa was back in Estoria, I¡¯m not part of this world and I don¡¯t belong here, and I need to leave. Which reminded me - the only way I¡¯m getting out of this place was with the Pasture necklace, which was with - The elderly struck me with her walking stick again, this time on my other foot. It stung, but it didn¡¯t hurt like hell. Not that I wanted it to. ¡°Stop thinking and chase after her!¡± She pointed to the hut. ¡°How do you know that guy isn¡¯t real? Or how do you know that guy isn¡¯t even really an imperial guard, or whatever it is that you said?¡± She folded her arms, her expressions shifting from stern to frustration. ¡°Where are imperial guards supposed to work at?¡± I thought for a moment. ¡°At towers?¡± ¡°Where was this guy going to?¡± ¡°Not a tower?¡± I thought again, watching the pieces in my mind fix themselves. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Wait a second. Is¡­ Rinoa in trouble? I spun towards the hut again, but nothing had changed and nothing had happened. I was kidding myself. ¡°I think that you are naive,¡± she muttered, standing beside me, watching over the hut. She brandished a silver dagger, reflecting the tones of the sun and handed it over to me. ¡°What is this for?¡± I asked. Before she could answer, there was a thunderous bellow that came from the hut. It was monstrous, the way that it sounded, and the volume continued to rise in deep proportions. As I heard it, my mind clicked into one outcome: Rinoa. I grabbed the silver dagger from the woman and dashed forward, sucking in a deep breath and running towards the door. I was a fool. I was indeed naive. But what did I know? I can¡¯t expect to know the in¡¯s and out¡¯s of a world I¡¯ve only just been in for fifteen minutes. This wasn¡¯t just all foreign to me. This was also just absolutely insane. I skid down the grassy slopes and up another, reaching the door of the hut. The roaring had stopped, but that could mean anything. My first instinct was to kick the door, and so I did, but it didn¡¯t budge. I checked the port windows that were found on one side of the hut and tiptoed to peek into it. Inside, the man had dropped his disguise of an armor down onto the ground and laid Rinoa - the princess - up onto a cross, where she was, unconscious. Curse it! I can¡¯t get in through the front door. I raised the dagger that was given, realising that I had it and returned back to what had prevented me from entering. On the right handle, there was a latch that was tightly wound and hammered into, making it impossible for my kicks to have an effect. I flipped the dagger and changed the way I wielded it, making a stabbing down gesture and proceeded to drag the edge into the latch. Once I managed to break the lock, I gave the door a heavy kick and rushed into the hut, gripping the dagger tightly in hand. The man that walked with Rinoa spun around, facing me, and I looked up at Rinoa. She was pinned and still, and somehow I wanted to scream sorry. I blamed myself. It was my fault that she was there now, and I¡¯ve let her down. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a pity,¡± he hissed. His shirt tugged at his shoulders, and his bulging muscles provided an inherent threat that wasn¡¯t there before. ¡°The princess is here with me now, and I wield the power of the Pasture.¡± He wore a grin on his face that tore through his lips. He grabbed hold of the steel sword that he had earlier, in its sharpened shape pointed at me. For once, I noticed the insignia deeply carved into the sides of the hilt, resembling a glowing sword. ¡°Eyes up here,¡± he said, and begin to swing his sword. Shit. I jumped backwards, almost knocking into one of the many mini-tables that were around, doing small acrobatic stunts that stretched my spine all to dodge the man¡¯s attack. When he ran out of breath, I supposed that it was my turn. Wait. Do I kill this man? The man attacked again, catching half of his breath, striking with a half-blow. I dodged completely, fending off with my little dagger. Now, this just made no utter sense. How do I win a man that wields a sword with a tiny blade?! This was a losing fight no matter what! By his fifth swing, I had climbed backwards up to one of the higher steps in the hut, near the bookshelves. ¡°Stop moving!¡± He screamed, then with a mighty effort he threw the sword at me, which I dodged to my right just before it caught my ears. It smashed into the port windows, but it was stuck. As I regained my footing, I gazed at him, and then something struck. He had no weapons. He was in the open. It was my turn. I gripped the handle of the dagger tighter, and charged at him from across the room, screaming mumbles and yelling. Before I reached him, he brought out a club from behind his back and slammed it into my face. SMACK! I was sent flying a short distance, a little red bulge forming in my forehead and the dagger hurled over to the other side of the room. The man approached his sword, and with some force he pulled the sword out from the cracked window. Curse it. All this time, he had been the one directing and leading the fight, and I was just reacting to everything. ¡°Last words?¡± He said, getting closer to me. I laid on the ground, watching him, but noticing a short stool to my right. I turned to see the dagger that was given, and the handle that it had. There was an emblem attached, or rather, an insignia that resembled what the man was wearing before, too carved into the handle. Whatever, I cleared my mind. If I don¡¯t do anything quickly, I¡¯m going to cut like chopped liver. I snaked on the floor, pushing towards the stool. The man strode slowly, twisting and turning the sword in his hand. A little closer. He continued walking, exuding a death stare. A bit more. A devilish grin appeared on his face. Now! I pulled the leg of the mini stool on my right and jammed into his chin, and he rocked backwards, stilted. I pulled myself up quickly, doing a fail leap to grab my dagger from behind but stumbled as I did, almost spraining my ankle. I raced back to face him, but was greeted with heavy smoke fogging up the insides of the hut. As the smoke billowed up in the air, a small silhouette stood in front of me, a dark figure behind the white air. The steel sword and a bundle of cloth was laid on the ground too. ¡°Well, at least you didn¡¯t kill him,¡± the elderly lady that I had met earlier spoke at the entrance of the hut, her walking stick still with her. She was instantly recognisable with it. The smoke dispersed, revealing the small faintly green creature with tiny sharp ears and an even smaller body that resembled a forest goblin. He, as I assumed, looked at me as I watched him continue lifting the sword, killing me still high up on his todo-list. ¡°Algor!¡± The elderly called, and Algor, as he was called, dropped the sword. Hunchback, he looked down at the weapon solemnly. Then, smoke puffed as the elderly walked towards Algor, soon turning into the same creature as well, with the walking stick shortened and her straw-coned hat fitting nicely on her bald head. She was green and human-like, short and squat, just like her companion. ¡°Pardon me. This was all just a test. Algor means you no harm, I promise,¡± she said. ¡°A test? So you mean to say that I wouldn¡¯t die under this circumstance, or would I, had the creature stabbed me anyway?¡± I was infuriated. Who the hell tests someone the first time they see them? It made no sense! Plus Algor was already in human form when he saw me with Rinoa in my hands. Or maybe he wasn¡¯t. Now I wasn¡¯t sure, and I couldn¡¯t think properly after I almost died. ¡°Legend has it that a brave knight in shining steel armor would be the key to breaking the curse set upon the only princess in Estoria,¡± she said. I squeezed one eye. ¡°So?¡± ¡°We were testing if you were the legend, so to speak. A legend had to be brave, strong and worthy. Pardon us, we were only trying to see if you were as they claim you to be,¡± she continued. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I said unwillingly, not like I intended to actually be the brave knight in that story, if that was what it was. The elder boggart looked at me, as if there was a sparkle of hope in her eyes wilting. ¡°What the hell are you people anyway?¡± I asked, trying to fit their mould of something that I had seen before, but I couldn¡¯t. ¡°Are you guys goblins? Ogres?¡± This just went from fantasy-real to topple-me-over-I-think-I¡¯m-crazy. Where exactly was I? I know I¡¯m in Estoria, and this all sounds crazy, but maybe this was just, I don¡¯t know, preposterous? A fantasy land with mythical creatures roaming every patch of land? Now that I thought about it, it does seem to make a lot of sense. ¡°No,¡± the elderly shook her head at me, ¡°we¡¯re boggarts.¡± She smiled, as if that helped clue me into this world like it was a piece of cake. Her normal voice was pitched a little higher than her human voice, which would be true considering that she was imitating one after all. ¡°That doesn¡¯t help me,¡± I said. ¡°I have no idea what boggarts are.¡± Algor turned the other boggart, his face furious and ugly, awaiting permission to pound my head in. She calmed him down, pointing her fingers to Rinoa, whom he begrudgingly walks to unleash the chains from. ¡°Firstly, pardon me. My name is Milryll, which I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get wrong so I won¡¯t waste time with that,¡± she said. ¡°Boggarts are household goblins. Our race is captured in the Ferret Forests not far from here, and sold by Autherists who fetch us for high prices, and we¡¯re pulled away to do duties that families need us to do. Everything. Once in awhile, we learn from our masters too, if they let us. That was how I, and my brother, was able to shapeshift. Though, we¡¯re class 4 and still weak to being pushed, of which we will revert back to our boggart selves. I learnt more than shapeshift, and my brother learnt swordfighting.¡± Boggarts. I had to note that down. Mythical creatures captured and enslaved, sold as household workers to the rich? Curse it, I was feeling sorry for them. The way they appeared to look, they didn¡¯t seem like the kind that milled the grain, nor would they wash the dishes diligently. They didn¡¯t seem like maids or butlers was all I meant. ¡°So you were bought by a family. How does Rinoa-¡± ¡°Hush!¡± Milryll shrilled. ¡°Do not speak of her first name in the plains of Estoria. In fact, do not speak of her name at all. The kingdom of Terin has fallen, and she¡¯s wanted.¡± Kingdom. Fallen. My mind took me back to when Rinoa used the Pasture necklace, and how the mighty structure stood tall even with its cracks and dents. But then, there was the thunder that struck, weakening it¡¯s fortification and sending parts of it crumbling. Something didn¡¯t make sense. If Rinoa showed me glimpses of the future of Estoria, then how does the fallen kingdom fit into this story? Was that the kingdom of Terin, as Milryll described? The shackles bound to Rinoa fell away as Algor released her, the chains dropping as I rushed to help her up. ¡°No, lay her down,¡± Milryll spoke. She walked over slowly, climbing up on one of the shorter stools to reach Rinoa, who laid on the bed, her eyes shut. Milryll placed her hands over Rinoa¡¯s forehead, and tried to feel for something. ¡°Her body is hot,¡± she deduced. ¡°Can you help her?¡± I pleaded. I don¡¯t know why I even cared. I had known Rinoa for a few hours, and that was it. Other than her being a princess, I probably shouldn¡¯t even muster another look. But then again, that would be cruel. Algor strode up beside me, watching on with his squinted eyes. ¡°I can try.¡± Milryll lifted her walking stick, placing it over her chest. Sparkles sprayed out over on the end of the stick, sprinkling out onto her purple dress, and then faded after. Suddenly, a giant thud grew around the hut. It was a distinct tremble. The kind that would shake even the tallest of mountains. ¡°What was that?¡± I asked, turning away and peeking out from one of the portholes. The trees were flailing about too. There was no wind for that. What could it be? The tremble continued to grow. Algor ran out to the entrance, the door still left open when Milryll had entered, and he poked his head out to catch what it was and where it came from. From there, in the distance out from the road where Rinoa and I came from, the quake on the ground grew larger and louder, the trees shaking vigorously. ¡°Oh no,¡± the Milryll spoke timidly. ¡°They¡¯re coming.¡± She waved at me. ¡°Carry the princess!¡± I returned back to Rinoa, and her eyelids began to lift. ¡°She¡¯s awake!¡± I exclaimed. The faint thudding soon came from all sides of the hut, but there was a problem: there were at least three stomps coming from all sides, shaking in a rather distinct rhythm, and repeating. Algor ran back in after slamming the door shut, his face pale. ¡°Tall trolls!¡± Algor squeaked as if he had seen a ghost, and the portholes were now painted large legs of brown. Mushrooms, ferns and fungus were growing out of it. It looked more like a tree, than anything else. ¡°They¡¯re getting close!¡± Algor reported. This was worse than when Algor placed the steel sword on my neck. At least he had no intent to kill. The trolls, which I had absolutely no idea what they looked like, other than their gigantic size? They could probably rip me apart from hand to limb, all in one go, while feeding me to fishes. ¡°Why are they here?¡± I lifted Rinoa up in my arms, her dress drifting. ¡°I think you know why!¡± Milryll screamed. The roof of the hut flew off as one of the tall trolls, face shaped like a horse with blunt-looking eyes stared at us through the big gap in the ceiling. Then another troll head popped in. And another. I swore I gulped. Milryll, Algor and I - carrying Rinoa - backed up in the centre of the hut. Somehow, if Algor didn¡¯t kill me then, he probably would have in the fight that ensued. But now, as the trolls towered over us, and their large shrouding hands blocking out the Estoria sunlight, I was sure for certain - I¡¯m probably going to die. But so will Rinoa. Maybe that was more important than anything else right now. She was in my arms, and her life depended on me. That was all that mattered. I¡¯m probably going to die, but not Rinoa. Not the princess.