Trials Of Impending Night E-Book

Joseph E. Green

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Two years have passed since Greenwick woke up with no memory of his past. Alongside his guardian bear Moon, his life has been difficult - being cursed with deadly voodoo and dragged into a world-threatening conflict by the dreadful Yewki. Since thwarting evil to the best of their abilities, Wick and Moon’s new life was granted to them by the Wizard Seffry and the fierce archer Lumni, and they've lived together out of harm’s way ever since.

But evil doesn't sleep, and after an old friend returns to tell them that the fate he’d been told to disregard is in fact crucial to the next step in the mad Warlock Yewnin’s plans. There is more than one dangerous relic that Yewki’s brother intends to use, and retrieving said device will not only force Wick to don burdens he never asked for, but also bring newcomers from both sides into the ever-worsening fray.

Trials Of Impending Night is the next chapter in Greenwick’s story of self-discovery. Kingdoms will fall, morals will be questioned, and death will come in abundance. And in the end, wills are brought to their breaking points, as the world prepares to change forever at the hands of hellish entities.

Leseprobe

Trials of Impeding Night

Book 2 in the Moon Bear Trilogy

Joseph E. Green

Copyright (C) 2017 Joseph E. Green

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter 1: New Year Revolt

Known by most, time and reality soared directly, with urgency, in order to reach an end, though the journey was infinite, therefore unceasing, as if a final destination paced in front of their stretching clutches, unreachable for the eternity. Existence span on a cycle yet flowed straight and narrow. Life, death – all that is comprehensible to the human mind unfolded as intended, leaving a great deal of mystery to skulk unwanted, outside of what is perceptible and conceivable. The famed cycle indeed moved by cosmic mechanisms, born from natural law, but alas, violent actions had been set in motion at the hands of those daring enough to peer past the curtains of all that was known, causing reality's sequence to stagger and ultimately collapse unbeknownst to the world's inhabitants, because of course, there was no way for them to detect such an imbalance, let alone understand it. Yewnin was knocking on a door no one should beg passage through, and with every day that passed with the Relic of Day at his side, his knocking grew louder and evermore with haste. An impending darkness was soon to swing the door right off its hinges, unleashing the merciless consequence of reality's rupture. Even so, further tampering with ancient tools was set to occur, by all those unwillingly bound and affected by the Earth's slow demise. With the short time humanity had left, it would take a boy to learn the truths of what is and what was – to understand, to relinquish, to overcome. However, before such conclusions could arise, all involved were to endure pain, sacrifice, and turmoil, more so than ever before – the trials that a dying reality had etched out for them were to be completed, for better or worse. Global collapse and the brink of extinction – how was a boy already cursed once before expected to fare in such a world? The answer was soon to be revealed for Greenwick in the coming years. Calamities aside, there is always a quiet before a storm. Nevertheless, the quiet in question was quaking and thunderous for the most part, which may put into perspective the scale of the storm that was to follow.

Chilly black nights, colourful paper lanterns, and a powerful smell of ale had turned the city of Filksolm into a welcoming hub for all who wished to celebrate the new year. It was a seemingly spectacular gathering for men and women from neighbouring kingdoms to join in merry rejoice, but there was something amiss regarding the morality of their festivities. The annual Dragon Showdown was a cultural norm for easterners. Tens of thousands would gather for what was deemed the event of the year, where excited spectators gazed in awe at the explosive battles between dragons to determine the name of the year to come, supposedly supplying those present with good luck and fortune. The year before saw the Tundran species victorious for the fourth year in a row, but savage Yimlams trained to kill from birth were making their debut, reeling in a larger audience than ever before. People had grown tiresome of the consecutive Tundran Years and yearned for a change in name, hoping desperately for the Year of the Yimlam. Yewnin's chaos through the past few cycles had been associated with the Tundran's constant success, so many believed that the dawn of a New Age would leave all evil behind. With such being the case, people's superstition and desire for entertainment had left them shrouded, allowing the reckless butchering of enslaved animals to be an unquestioned eastern tradition. Folks sung and danced through the streets on their way to the colosseum, dressed as their favourite species to show their support. A rather large Jevetin costume swung from side to side, concealing the chunky bear underneath, like a child draped in their quilts. A taller Greenwick walked by Moon's side accompanied by a more mature Lumni – now eighteen, close to leaving her teenage years behind, whilst Wick was barely halfway through his. The only things time supplied for the two of them was longer hair and shorter patience, though Wick was proud of the measly tuft of fluff that had begun sprouting from his chin and wished not to rush its delicate growth. As for Seffry, he was as grey as ever, simply sporting a heftier beard and darker bags under his eyes. The stress of looking after two young rebels had taken its toll on both his patience and his will to live, but he still took care of them nonetheless, ensuring that they stayed out of trouble, though there were a bevy of instances he wished he'd perhaps held back on kindness and hospitality. His adopted young would never admit it amidst his constant stressing, but they were forever grateful to be taken in by the worrying Wizard. “Out of all the places… Filksolm. I hate it here,” Seff scoffed. He looked ahead at the drunkards making fools of themselves over the sake of a calendar restarting. “It marks the dawn of new life. The year reborn, old man,” Lumni smiled. Wick laughed along whilst adjusting his Yimlam face mask. “This place is better than the place you took us last year, that's for sure,” Wick chuckled.

“Maybe for the two of you… but this is the last time I let you pick where we go. Besides, it took a whole week, three different modes of transport, and a worryingly large amount of my savings to get here when we could have just set off some of my spark bombs outside the house!” the moody Wizard moaned. “Savings? You can make gold coins with your hands!” Lumni reminded. As they walked, angry protesters covered in red jumped from behind a corner, holding wooden signs and flaming torches, screaming over the top of one another. Passers-by booed and spat at the nonconformists, finding their beliefs audacious and disrespectful towards their annual event. “Free the dragons!” one protestor screamed, which was met by a tackle to the ground by a bunch of city guards. Their wriggling bodies were dragged away from the public by the authorities, and their signs were snapped and trampled on by angry members of the community. The whole situation was rather abrupt and spontaneous, but the message was certainly powerful. “I believe wholeheartedly with those protestors. I can't believe the two of you want to watch dragons fight against their will,” Seff hissed. Both Wick and Lumni stayed silent as the old man continued to lecture. “Perhaps when you see these beasts die up close, you'll have second thoughts about this whole trip”. The two teens looked at each other subtly and continued their stroll towards the arena without a response. The deep banging of drums and screeching cheers increased in volume the closer they got, and the streets soon flooded with more and more eager people, making it difficult to move about. The bright flashes of fire seeped through cracks in the colosseum walls, met with admiration and applause from those dying to get inside before the final clash. Deathly howls shuddered through the wind as one dragon had presumably taken a heavy blow, only making everyone all the more curious of what was happening, thus the crowd of people had sped up their shuffling, and shoves and pushes had become more frequent, causing Seff, Wick, Lumni and the bear to follow the strong current. With the many bodies trawling quickly as one, it didn't take much longer for the four of them to reach the entrance, where the echoing tunnels sent roars and fiery heat past theirs and everyone else's ears, filling them with giddy excitement. “I'm choosing where we sit,” Seff announced.

“Why do you care where we watch? You'll just be reading your book anyway,” Wick whined.

“Well I don't want to sit near anyone who's going to jump out of their skin when they realise they're sat next to a bear… which would be everyone”.

“Well why don't you and Moon find a quiet spot right at the back, and I'll take Wick closer to the action?” an enthusiastic Lumni suggested.

“And then you can read the… Grandiloquent Cosmographicum in peace,” the boy added, struggling to read the fancy handwriting on the book's cover. The Wizard scowled at the suggestion but yearned for the solitude they offered. “I don't like the two of you being on your own at all,” he sighed.

“Come on now, Seff. I'm old enough to take care of him, and he's old enough to take care of himself!” she pressed. The old coot squeezed his finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his head. “We meet by this entrance as soon as this is finished, do you understand? As soon as this is finished!” Seff reluctantly agreed. Wick and Lumni didn't waste time to thank him for his kindness and ran through the horde of men and women to get to the opening of the arena. The noise of both the audience and the dragons gushed into their heads loudly, leaving them in astonishment for a moment. The current battle was between a Bogahaggon and a Yimlam, which would decide who would continue to take on the unbeatable Tundran in the final match. Both dragons shook the ground with every step as fire and steam sprayed across the whole place, causing the majority of front row spectators to duck to the floor. Their chains and shackles restricted their movement slightly, but they still struck one another powerfully. Both their thick hides were torn and bloodied, indicating that a winner would soon arise. “Let's find where to go,” Wick prompted with a serious tone. “My pleasure,” Lumni replied, also suddenly more focused and serious.

Seff mumbled inaudibly to himself as he found a place to sit far from the action. “I'm sure Wick would think differently about this festival if it were bear versus bear,” he groaned to Moon whilst plopping his backside onto the floor and quickly turning to the correct page in his tatty tome. Moon slumped at his side, barely able to see through the layers of his costume as he shook and scratched in irritation. Seff sported a scowl as he tried his hardest to concentrate, but the loud cheers and gargling cries made it difficult for him to read. It didn't take long for him to mumble some more and practically stick his face right into the pages, rendering him unable to see anything outside of his book. This played in Moon's favour, as he planned to escape the boring man's clutches. Using the loud noises and the Wizard's restricted vision, the bear sneakily plodded away, leaving Seff to unknowingly complain to himself for the next half an hour. To Moon's surprise, he was given no attention or concern because everyone he passed either had their eyes fixed on the fight or were too drunk to notice the bear paws sticking out the bottom of his drapes – all but one person at least. “Is that a bear?!” one inebriated man exclaimed to his mistress. She looked over and rolled her eyes. “No, it's a Jevetin costume, you dunce,” she spat to the man, followed by an eruption of laughter. Moon wasted no time to entertain the dunces and continued his hunt for Wick and Lumni, who were anything but enjoying the show. The two of them were nowhere near the seating areas and had infiltrated the private underground chambers where the dragons were being kept. “I can't believe Seff thought we'd actually want to be here to watch this massacre,” Lumni whispered whilst peering down a gloomy corridor. She beckoned Wick to follow her towards the source of whimpering noises. Their masks helped keep them inconspicuous as they scurried deeper into the complex, but the odd workman would stop to question them, which was practically a request to be knocked unconscious and stuffed into a dark corner. The two of them had reached a large locked door, too thick to barge open. “Now what?” Wick sighed.

“Use that fire blast Seff's been teaching you, obviously,” Lumni suggested sternly. He stood back slightly and thought for a moment before slowly focusing on his hand gestures. He took a deep breath and brushed his clenched index and middle fingers from the end of his forearm to the wrist, quickly swiping his hand outwards towards the door. Lumni shook her head in despair, hoping for an epic wave of flame. Instead, Wick barley blew out a spark from his palm, making him feel like a fool. He tried again and again more messily, but there was nothing more than a tiny candlelight-sized spray. “And that's exactly why I don't bother with that magic nonsense. It looks like more effort than what it's worth!” Lumni complained.

“I just need a bit more practice. I don't think my fingers are in the right place,” he explained.

“We can't rely on your amateur tricks right now, Wick, nor do we have the time for you to practice”.

“Well how do you think we're going to get inside then?” Thankfully, Moon ran down the corridor with just half of his outfit left hanging on. “The bear will get us in,” Lumni smiled cleverly.

“They're going to hear this racket, I'm sure,” Wick warned.

“What choice do we have? Moon, knock a hole in that door!” Wick scrunched his face in grimace as the bear charged into the door like a clueless battering ram, cracking it and making an inevitable loud bang. He chewed and clawed his way through until there was a big enough hole for the three of them to enter. On the other side lay an abundance of different dragons varying in sizes and colour. They were chained up tightly, seeming uninterested in the intruders. “Glogspikes, Jevetins, Collisers, there's so many different ones!” Wick gawked.

“Don't get too close to them, not yet,” Lumni suggested. Moon looked back and sniffed. He let out a grunt which the other two took as a sign of wishful haste. Before long, a collection of curious voices made themselves known from the corridor, leaving Lumni and Wick with no choice but to execute the plan. “Those Fizzers you stole from Seff,” Lumni ordered. Wick nodded and dug through his bag, grabbing a handful of vials covered in thick cloth to avoid breakages on the trip, as well as to soften the clinking sounds, preventing Seff from ever hearing them as they travelled. He threw a handful of them to Lumni and kept the rest for himself, running over to the dragons' shackles. They popped the cork lids off the potions, letting out a bubbly hiss as the liquid ate away at the restraints like acid, causing the creatures to startle. Soon, the hole in the door was filled with guards, clambering their way into the large room. “What are you doing?!” one of them yelled. Moon held off the small group whilst Wick and Lumni finished breaking the last of the chains. It didn't take long for dragons of all sizes to knock into each other as well as into walls due to their lack of space, initiating a chain reaction of panic. The three of them dived to the floor as wings and tails swung and scrapped the ground. The wind generated from the flapping was so strong it flung them from side to side slightly, until eventually, the largest of the Glogspikes crashed through the remainder of the broken door, allowing them all to escape frantically. “Let's go!” Lumni bellowed, leading the three of them behind the clumsy stream of fleeing drakes.

There was an intermission above ground whilst things were prepared for the final battle. The whole arena had fell silent as a large man stood perfectly in the centre, shouting at the top of his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves… for the reigning Tundran champion… against the ravenous Yimlam contender!” His blood-pumping speech brought people to their feet in excitement as a deafening roar bloomed from all directions. “May the Year of Tundran end with bloody defeat! Let the battle… begin!” the man cheered whilst aiming both arms to opposite sides of the colosseum where two mirroring gates slowly raised, intended to reveal the final fighters. The rumbling applause muffled the crashing and scraping noises coming from both entrances, but there was soon a unified gasp and scream when over thirty different dragons poured out into the centre, all unchained and equally furious. Everyone soon sobered up and made their escape, climbing and trampling over others, whilst the flying beasts circled the arena. The wingless ones scuttled their way up and over and into the darkness never to be seen again, barging their way by all things daring to stand in the way. A Colliser noticed the fat spokesman running for cover and swooped down to swallow him whole. “What on Earth?!” Seff shuddered, dropping his book to the floor. He turned to Moon who was long gone from his side which caused even more confusion. All he could see were dragons flapping around in the distance at first, but he soon noticed Wick, Lumni and the bear running into the centre. Although they looked like ants from where he was stood, he could tell it was them due to the simple fact that danger surrounded them. “Yes! Go!” Lumni cheered.

“Be free!” Wick applauded whilst performing a shooing gesture with his arms. Guards looked on, afraid to arrest the three of them so long as the dragons were still flying about. There were no countermeasures in place for such an incident, so the beasts could fly away without risk of ballistae or javelins taking them down. Even so, they didn't waste any time lingering as their stay in Filksolm has been a long and unhappy one. For Wick and Lumni though, the swarm of dragons seemed to last for ages, like time had slowed down for them to take in the spectacle. Reality slapped them in the face however when the air finally cleared, as guards ran towards them at full speed. It was their cue to whip off their face masks, revealing their young and fresh faces, taking the soldiers by surprise. “They're just children!” one of them said, as they collectively slowed their march in confusion. “Oh, so you find it indecent to arrest the likes of us… but you consider it perfectly fine to imprison dragons against their will to fight for your entertainment?” Lumni snarled. The guards had no valuable response and looked at one another for a strategy or a means of resolution. “Perhaps you should enslave us and make us kill each other!” she continued.

“I think we've made our point,” Wick muttered, still rather new to the rebellious lifestyle. More armed men stormed forward to reinforce, but they too stood awaiting a plan of attack upon arrival. “Don't hurt them!” Seff squawked, hurdling other barriers and pushing his way through the ring of men. “Are you their father?” a captain asked him.

“Certainly not”.

“Grandfather?”

“Heavens no!”

“Regardless, we're able to arrest you!” The unamused captain gestured two guards to seize Seff but we're blocked by Wick, Lumni and Moon. “And why on Earth is there a bear here?!” he wallowed.

It had been a long evening for the four of them. The new year had officially begun as they sat tired and drowsy through to the early morning. Moon slowly nodded off in his own personal cage outside of the local jailhouse, whilst the other three shared their own indoors. The captain of the guards stood on the opposite side of the bars trying to make sense of the unexpected situation, often scratching his head and pacing back and forth. “The damage you've caused… it's immeasurable. People are never going to want to return for the next eve of new year,” he exhaled.

“That was the plan,” Lumni smirked.

“Not only that, but we don't even have a name for the new year now!”

“Do what most others do and use numbers. People here at Filksolm can tell real time, yes?”

“Do not mock our traditions, girl. We had hoped to leave those troublesome Tundran Years behind us… along with Yewnin's curse”.

“Yewnin will still cause death and destruction regardless of what names you use. The only thing you should leave behind is your idiotic sport!”

“Lumni, stop,” Seff gasped.

“But you agree with us,” she scowled.

“Well, yes, but I wouldn't have done something as reckless as what you two did!” The captain cut their squabbles short as he slammed his fist against the thick metal cage. “You knew not of their schemes?” he asked the Wizard, glaring into his eyes. “Course not… he wouldn't have let us come here if he knew of our intentions,” Wick said.

“Believe me, I'm as mad as you, good Sir,” Seff cowered. The captain scratched his head once more and sighed. “What you did was essentially terrorism, though frankly, I can't quite comprehend what you've done, and it seems you can't either. The sheer damage… the amount of folks scared to leave their homes… the clear disrespect! This is without a doubt the biggest calamity Filksolm has ever encountered and endured, therefore, I don't think your age should be an issue… regarding your execution that is,” he exclaimed.

“Execution?” Seff gasped. The captain no longer responded and simply walked away, as he had one giant report to write, but only so much ink for his quill. “So, did your plan have a prison escape involved?” the old man sighed.

“We didn't think this far ahead,” Wick whispered.

“I did,” Lumni interrupted. She tugged at the bars and looked to the Wizard and his apprentice, “You two are going to melt us out”.

“Not a chance,” Seff grumbled.

“But why?”

“I'm not becoming a fugitive”.

“So you'd prefer to be dead?”

“This is your mess. You two are responsible for this. I can't look after you both anymore. That conflict in Brewtown, those careless escapades back near Weatvale the other month, and now this!” Seff complained. He had nothing more to say and seemed rather unconcerned about their situation as his frustration took over. The other two looked on as he tucked himself away in the corner, wishing he had left them with the Olash tribe two years ago – if only he were as cold as Yewki was that day. “I won't be able to get through these bars without him,” Wick informed, but Lumni didn't reply. Her rebellious actions had landed them into their biggest complication yet, but her stubborn pride prevented her from weeping with emotion. Yet another seemingly trivial act of resistance under their belt, whilst the real fight for the Earth continued to be lost, far beyond the horizon amidst hidden lands. With prophecies awaiting confirmation, Wick's current predicament would soon feel like a haven in comparison.

Chapter 2: Confirmation

In a distant place that may as well have been a world away, water dripped from the roof of a gigantic cave, falling onto soaking trees below. The underground jungle was one of a kind, born and maintained by its mysterious Shaman protectors, endangered caretakers of the Earth. Access into the sacred land was unknown to all who lived above ground for most of time, but determination and the quest for discovery granted evil forces the knowledge to eventually enter. The Shaman Master had sensed the invaded privacy however, accompanied by large glowing spores distressingly illuminating the entire cave with yellow rays. With such light keeping shadows at bay, there still remained dark corners for raiders to advance through. “The plants grow weary, Master,” a young Shaman alerted. Their leader, Ckew'lon-Dem, had planted the first tree seed when he encountered the large refuge many normal lifetimes ago. Since then, he and his offspring had safeguarded their paradise in hopes to keep it an everlasting source of energy for the Earth, for when the day came that all life had dried up and dissolved, there would still be one unspoiled speck safe and sound below the rocks, for things to start anew. “They come to trample in my garden. We prepare for battle,” Ckew'lon-Dem huffed. His frail body still had the power to move quick and mystically as thick roots and vines weaved together to create fortress walls around him. His arms bent fluently like water, causing the spores to brighten. Shaman folk of varying ages walked along the wide tree branches as well as the muddy floor in hopes of spotting the invaders, though the air kept near quiet and their sights remained unspoiled of intrusion. Their foes numbers were unknown, but they were prepared for anything, even death. Nothing could be heard but the squeaking insects and drips of water, making the jungle defenders worry about the stealthy capabilities of their rivals. After a daunting wait, one tree scout hit the ground cold with an arrow perfectly through the heart. One by one, the unskilled defenders fell as the enemies advanced. Spores were burst by shadow archers, secreting juice and gasses, in turn destroying sources of light and making their attack easier as chaos ensued. Two Shaman stood back-to-back, shuffling in a circle with eyes fixed and bodies steady. “Did you see any?” one asked the other, but his friend shook his head. Soon enough, an arrow whistled through the air and penetrated both of their chests, making them fall to the side at the same time. Another tree scout controlled the vines below him, entangling the spotted bowman like a snake, preventing him from breathing – his exposed armour and colour revealed all that needed to be known, not to mention the iconic dragon branding on the back of the hand. “Slayers!” the scout warned. A woman with a book ran by Ckew'lon-Dem. It was evident she was no proper fighter, like most other Shaman, but she stood in the open completely prepared for conflict. “You knew of this day,” she said.

“You must leave. Take our secrets with you. This jungle will be no more by the time you-”. An arrow pierced through the book she held tightly against her chest, continuing through to her body. Ckew'lon's sentence was cut short like his daughter's life. “You have many children. Don't tell me you grieve so heavily for each and every one of them,” a sinister voice erupted from the bushes before the Shaman Master could cry out properly. He wiped his tears and pushed a wave of vines toward the archer responsible for his child's end, like the hundred tentacles of a sea monster. The Slayer quickly pulled out his twin blades in retaliation, cutting through the vegetation with ease, revealing a pale and bearded professional of death, sporting more gold and red colours than his fellow soldiers. He tilted his head up and sneered through his stray hair, eager to pounce. “Rowdun the Woundless! You will pay for this,” Ckew'lon-Dem growled, but before anything could be done, another prince in similar attire restrained the old man from behind, knocking him to his knees. “Take your hands from me, poison!”

“Just cease and we'll kill you quickly,” Ecklethorpe, youngest of the princes suggested. He had grown from a manipulated teenager into a deluded young man, though still shamefully lacking a subtitle next to his name. “We don't kill this one… not until he answers my questions,” Yewnin ordered, gently lowering himself from above like an angel, dressed in bright white robes with pale orange trims, glimmering as he levitated above the floor slightly. His eyes were darker and his body frailer compared to his first years connected to the Day Relic, but his passion and hunger had doubled to compensate. His face was still deeply scarred from Moon's claws during their conflict in the forgotten tomb of Lay-Vau, which hindered him not, so long as his body still worked correctly. Appearances were unimportant for a man focused far beyond such petty human woes.

“I peered to the future and I saw all of your spirits present at this moment… all except yours, Yewnin. There's something wrong with you, and it's far past troubling,” Ckew'lon warned.

“Your knowledge and restricted comprehension prevent you from seeing what I have become, so you choose to fear it – nothing new to me,” the sick zealot sniggered. Their conversation was halted as the Slayers had to fight a sudden wave of Shamans. “Although I saw this moment coming, I am still surprised at your sheer arrogance and audacity!” Ckew'lon yelled whilst summoning a sentient vine, yanking Eck backwards by the neck and allowing the Shaman to get back on his feet. Branches from nearby trees helped and joined the cause, sending the Slayer soldiers' broken bodies flying. Yewnin shot flashes of light from his fists which vaporised the wood and leaves instantly, as Rowdun cut Eck loose with a scowl on his face, prompting him to jump up and fight. As the battle escalated, the cave roof conjured steamy clouds, thickening the tropical air before releasing heavy rain. The surviving Shamans escorted their leader into the dense bushes, in an attempt to escape. “Track them,” Yewnin ordered the two princes. They both ran through what soon became a deluge. “Up,” Eck said quickly upon realising their feet were soon fully submerged. The two of them jumped high into the trees and strode from branch to branch in search of the runaways. The splashing footsteps remained unheard because of the constant rainfall, but the princes were born to hunt. It soon became an aquatic cat and mouse chase as the flooding reached the treetops. “I see them,” Eck said.

“Let them drown,” Rowdun laughed.

“Yewnin demands their answers”. Eck jumped and began to swim toward the swimming Shaman, desperate to be victorious, but the vegetation below wrapped itself around his legs, dragging him down. The Woundless wasn't panicked, and instead opted to scoff at his brother's idiocy, unconcerned for whether or not he'd even resurface. He pulled his bow from behind and hit Ckew'lon in the shoulder, making sure not to kill him, followed by a cheerful Yewnin that flew in from behind. Whilst floating above the rising flood, he aimed straight up and blew a hole through the roof, vaporising the mile of Earth between them and daylight. As the water rapidly filled the entirety of the cave, Yewnin guided Rowdun towards the vertical tunnel. The prince dragged his wounded captive to the hole and waited for the magical water to rise all the way up to the surface with Yewnin flying just above them, somehow untouched by the rain. Whilst beginning their bottleneck ascent, Eck burst for air by their side, coughing and spluttering. “My, I thought you drowned!” Rowdun laughed.

“I got free… and I saw you taking your leave without me. Perhaps I should have continued to sink, but I wouldn't want you leeching on all the glory again,” Eck panted.

“Nice of you to join us, Ecklethorpe. You still have much to learn if you want to be as skilled as your brother,” Yewnin grinned, looking down at the three of them tread in the rising water. Eck wanted to remind him that Yewnin had no right to talk as though he was both a Slayer and King, but he knew his place annoyingly, preferring to be soaked only in rain pour, not blood as well. After a cold few minutes, they reached the surface, leaving the jungle to be submerged and forgotten. They spurted out of the hole, sending them up into the air several feet. Eck and Rowdun landed like nimble feline, but the injured Ckew'lon flopped hard onto the floor. The land was a surprising contrast to the world below them, as it was barren and cold. Yewnin looked down at the flooded hole, smiling at the success of his mission, only for the rocks around him to collect together and fill it like a cork on a container. “No one is to ever return to that jungle,” Ckew'lon coughed.

“And so, it will be a watery tomb for your lost children. Impressive last-ditch effort you had in place there, though it meant very little, for I only require your tongue, or more accurately, the words that roll from its tip,” Yewnin smirked.

“How does the old man control the rocks like that, as well as the vines?” Rowdun asked.

“Like all Shaman, he's instilled with the power of the Earth… more so the Earth Relic… but he does not possess it,” Yewnin sighed.

“Because I am one with the world. We are connected to it, no matter where it resides, unlike you!” Ckew'lon grunted. The Shaman didn't try to escape; his body was evidently damaged due to the blood pouring away from his shoulder. “You seek it don't you? Is one relic not enough?” he snarled.

“I want both. More precisely, I need both. So, tell me… where is it?” Yewnin interrogated, kicking the man's body to the floor. “Come on… where?”

“You know where it is,” Ckew'lon whimpered.

“But how do I obtain it?!” he screamed.

“You can't… and you know it. I know you know it… so why are you asking me?”

“I was just making sure”.

“You destroyed my home, my sacred land, to hear words you already knew to be true?”

“Not just that, no. You're going to tell me who is the one able to obtain it,” Yewnin crouched down by the man's bloody side. Ckew'lon smiled, knowing that his answer would create uproar. The princes both shot arrows into his hands, nailing him to the ground, causing a painful cry as life began to leave his shivering body. “A man in his youth… on the path destiny has paved for him… the one chosen to overcome the evil around him… the one chosen to inflict pain on… the Trepidator,” the shaman exhaled. Yewnin gritted his teeth, knowing the certainty of the answer, but still hoping for a different prophecy, like waking from a bad dream and the relief that comes with it. “Did he just say… the Trepidator?” Eck gasped.

“What? A Slayer scared of a beast?” Yewnin said.

“An invincible one”.

“Invincible to all but one. Your father and I have a lot to think about”.

“I don't believe that a beast can be struck only by a destined soul,” Rowdun chimed.

“Of course you don't. You can't accept there's a monster out there of which you are incapable of slaying,” Yewnin smiled.

“Don't tell me you and my father think this youth destined is… that boy, Wick!” Rowdun grunted. Yewnin ignored him due to the obviousness of what his response would have been and turned back to the old man to notice him unable to open his eyes, giving him the opportunity to taunt him further. “You're not used to the daylight, are you? You kept yourself hidden underground, like a coward”. The evil man's eyes glowed and his body brightened. “Allow me to show you the true power of daylight!” The shaman didn't have time to scream, as his body was turned charred-black, whisking away into pile of ash that blew away in the harsh winds. “Why did you do that? The Slayers could have used him for further insight,” Eck hissed.

“There was nothing more that soothsayer could tell you. His use is fulfilled,” Yewnin scowled. Rowdun salivated at the show of murder, then whistled for his giant Clawking dragon. The loyal beast quickly thudded to the ground as they prepared for their journey home to Emmrin-Rashmada, leaving behind a desolate land, and a pool of bodies deep beneath the world that no one would ever again come across, as though it had never existed in the first place.

Chapter 3: The Snivelling Saviour

An uncomfortable night's stay in the Filksolm cells gave the teenage terrorists bad backs and sore heads. Seff snored away, replicating a sound as if Moon was in the cage with them, but the bear himself remained outside, left prodded and teased for hours on end by bored guards. Wick listened to conversations in the soldiers' quarters – the officers discussed the events of the night before, as though there was always more for them to complain about. Lumni could also hear them speaking. She focused on the talk of an execution. The captain of the guards and other important figures were planning how they would publicly serve justice, to restore order to the frightened people. Hanging, beheading and many other methods were brought up, but none seemed harsh enough in their eyes. Lumni hid her fear well and Wick was too overflowing with adrenaline for the severity of their actions to fully sink in. Even if Seff came around and helped them escape, their chances of fleeing the city were extremely low. All hope had seemed to have long gone. Even their way of execution was uncertain, so all they could do it sit and wait. “As soon as they open these bars, I'm going to kill them, I swear,” Wick said, clenching onto his bear necklace. Whenever he was parted from his dear friend, he held onto the totem that stayed close to his heart. Though the origin of it remained a mystery, it carried comfort, nonetheless. After being cursed with voodoo by the treacherous Iwa spirit, Lay-Vau, almost dying at the hands of Yewnin, and being abandoned by Yewki, Moon was the boy's means of solace more than ever. “I'll kill them… I will!” he repeated.

“No, you won't,” Lumni snorted.

“I can hear them with Moon. They're bullying him!” Outside, the guards banged on the bear's cage, preventing him from getting a single moment's rest. “Perhaps we should feed this fat lump to next year's dragons; watch it run around on fire,” one officer hissed.

“No, I want to turn it into a rug,” another officer chuckled.

“Well get in line, the captain said the same himself”. They searched the floor for clumps of stones and passed them around to each other to throw at Moon. The rocks bounced off the metal and the bear's squishy body. Although it wasn't necessarily harming him, the stones were incredibly irritating. The guards chortled every time the poor beast twitched in the slightest way, but the fun would soon come to an end for them. He bobbed down to fill his mouth with stones that had landed in the cage. “It's not food, you fat lump!” the officers laughed between themselves. Whilst they sniggered, Moon spat out the rocks like breadcrumbs into their faces. The saliva-coated chunks smothered them, causing sudden pandemonium. They slammed against the cell and pointed their swords and torches inside, scaring him half to death. He cowered to the floor in submission, but they didn't plan on stopping. “Stupid, freakish bear!”

“I would cease your mistreatment, gentlemen,” a gargling voice called out from behind them. The guards swung around to put a face to the insolent warning, not expecting to see a hunched being with a long tail. His skin was grey and green like a mouldy corpse, but he was far from dead. “Dirty Bonborran, what business do you have here? You won't find spare change around these parts!” one of the bullies scowled. The man cleared his throat and unravelled a scroll he pulled from the inside of his scruffy jacket. “To whom it may concern-”.

“Stop right there, what's going on out here?” the captain ordered, charging out of the building. He snarled upon seeing the hideous hunchback and scoffed further when he saw his men dripping in bear spit. “Why is there a Bonborran here?” he continued, forever in confusion. The intruder was dressed in a tatty suit and torn tie, as though he had too much to drink at a fancy ballroom dance the night before and had fallen from a cliff and into a row of thorny bushes, unable to clamber out without the aid of a ravenous pack of wolves. “To whom it may concern,” the Bonborran said again.

“No, enough of that”.

“To whom it may concern-”.

“That dastardly bear spat at us! He deserves to die,” a soaking soldier whined.

“To whom it may concern-”.

“Well why did it spit at you? Bears don't spit, do they?”

“To whom it may concern!”

Wick had no window or crack to look through, so the escalating confrontation outside was killing him. He only cared for Moon's safety but all he could hear were guards shouting and an unknown croaky voice talking as calmly as he could, given the situation. “What's going on out there?” he sighed. Lumni didn't have an answer as she was trying to hear the conversation for herself. Eventually, the shouting died down and footsteps walked towards the door. Wick scurried to the bars to see who came into the building. “You are beyond lucky,” the captain grumbled. “Wake up!” he clanged against the cage to alarm Seff, making him to shoot up from the floor. He looked around in a hurry, still half engrossed in the dream he was having. “What's happening?” the Wizard spluttered.

“The impossible,” the captain replied.

“Greetings, Mister Greenwick, Mister Seffry, and of course, Miss Lumni,” the creepy gentleman hailed them kindly. “My name is Quigsy and nothing more… and my Master has provided you all with freedom,” he elaborated.

“You're a Bonborran… why would you be concerned with our affairs?” Seff asked.

“Although your race can be odd at times, I only wish to serve and ensure your safety – a responsibility bestowed upon me by my Master,” Quigsy replied with a chuckle before coughing uncontrollably in their faces. The guards unlocked their cell with a great lack of enthusiasm and dragged them out, praying that they continued their conversations outside.

Officers scowled across the room as the inventory workers passed Wick, Lumni and Seff's possessions across the desk. They stared with grimace as they gave back Seff's satchel of peculiar potions and materials, and the sheer number of weapons that Lumni had been carrying on her body. Moon grunted at the soldiers before taking Wick's side, reminding them who was in charge. They quickly left by following Quigsy's literal tail, down the muggy road and towards a damp, wooden carriage hidden behind large bushes. “What's with the secrecy?” Seff muttered.

“Surely you know how many people are wanting your head on a wall,” Quigsy cackled. “My Master knows of your ventures, and they want to make sure you don't die”.

“Who is your Master?” Wick ponded.

“You will never know, so please… do not ask”.

“How long have you and your Master kept eyes on us?” Lumni asked.

“Since you and Mister Wick caused the scuffle in Brewtown”.

“They're reckless, it's not my fault,” Seff ensured.

“Yes, I agree, but more so my Master agrees. I'm sorry I can't elaborate further regarding their identity, but I promise it is for your own safety”.

“I don't like this,” Lumni murmured.

“You don't have to. Just climb aboard so we can leave with haste, please”.

“What about Moon?” Wick pointed out.

“Well that's what the inside of the carriage is for,” the Bonborran chuckled. The three of them clambered on top and sat next to the oddly smelling man, whilst Moon squeezed inside the tiny box of a carriage. Quigsy swung his ropes like whips setting the four horses galloping at full speed, taking his passengers by surprise. “I regret to inform you that our only way out of town is through the city so-”.

“We can't go back through Filksolm! They'll know our faces for sure!” Seff gasped.

“We need to go west, so which way do we need to go?” Quigsy asked.

“…Through Filksolm,” Seff sighed.

“Just keep your heads down and we'll be away from the crime scene before you know it!” The three of them followed his orders but were still confused by the situation, although they were grateful even so. The horse and cart whooshed through the quiet, depressed streets – it was a stern contrast to the festival before, with confetti soaked on the floor and broken signs littering the roads. Upon reaching the main roads though, horseback traffic was worryingly high, for trailers full of people's possessions clogged up the main exits. Wick and Lumni soon realised that they had made the mass population leave Filksolm in despair of the recent tragedy. There was also the notion of hungry dragons returning for revenge, so a high portion of civilians didn't want to stick around and take the chance. The people's method of receiving good luck had been disbanded and their spirits torn in two, but the youngsters responsible felt no guilt, as their actions were intended to wake the people up and make them realise that life led by superstition was no safe way to live. Their plan was indeed thoughtless and slightly barbaric, but it was time, in their eyes, for Filksolm to grow up, especially with the disastrous affairs happening out in the world around it. It was a hard knock, but a push in the right direction. “Oh dear… there seems to be a line to the city gates,” Quigsy gulped.

“Go around,” Lumni snarled.

“The carriage is too wide, Mistress Lumni”. The horses had no choice but to halt behind the dozen carts and wagons ahead. Moon's quarters included windows but lacked curtains so he tried his best to stay low, but there was only so much his plump body could do. Locals walked by, often peeking into people's carriages subtly due to sheer nosiness. Their eyes didn't have to loom slyly when they reached Quigsy's cart, as Moon's fur stuck out of the gaping squares at either side, catching their eyes against their will. “Look, Ma, those rugs are moving!” a child whispered. Their mother shuffled a little closer to inspect and saw the fluffy blob breathing. “Hello, you there… you, selling furs, traveller?” she questioned Quigsy.

“Nothing for sale, I'm afraid,” he stuttered with a nervous laugh. The mother beckoned others to come over for a look as she began to piece things together. “Do you know you've got a bear in your passenger carriage?” she asked.

“Bear? No. That's preposterous”.

“They said it was a girl and a boy the other night who freed all those dragons. Someone said they saw a bear with 'em!”

“Yeah!” another person clarified.

“That has nothing to do with us and our cargo,” Wick stammered.

“I think it does!” she raised her voice. At that point, the whole carriage was surrounded by at least thirty people, slowly growing in anger as they collectively came to the same conclusion. “They're agents of Yewnin! They tarnished our heritage! Let's get 'em!” The mob of furious men and women threw rocks, torches and farming tools at them, leaving Quigsy no choice but to guide the horses to the side in an attempt to cut through the line. Word spread like wildfire and more rioters joined in with each blink of an eye. Pitchforks and rakes impaled the cart and flames began to grow near the back. Quigsy crammed the carriage between the queue and the buildings at their side, scraping off large chunks of the cart and the houses they passed. “I told you it was too wide!” he panicked. Seff and Wick blew the fire out whilst Lumni yanked the ropes from the Bonborran to show him how navigating in tricky situations was done. She weaved in and out of the line whilst villagers continued to throw whatever they had in their hands. Guards stood at the open gates and saw the crazy carriage hurtling towards them, forcing them to dive out of its way. They were in the clear, but they made sure to stay at full speed until there was plentiful distance between them and Filksolm.

The bumpy journey continued for hours into the late afternoon. The fiasco was far behind them, but it was all they could think about. Witnessing the people's response to Wick and Lumni's actions left them with a lot to consider. The fact that they were labelled as agents of Yewnin was both offensive and outlandish, but the more they thought about it, the more it made sense. “We're no worse than Yewnin,” Wick said.

“Don't be a fool. I'm still annoyed at you both, but I know for a fact that your actions were for a good cause, his are the complete opposite. The only reason you'd find Yewnin freeing dragons is to enslave them himself,” Seff comforted.

“So, you admit we did the right thing?” Lumni smirked.

“That's not what I said”.

“Go on, say it,” she prodded.

“That's enough. You think heroism comes from being insane? I know you meant well but you practically ruined the livelihood of an entire city!” Seff complained.

“Make up your mind, did we do the right thing or not?” Wick jabbed.

“If it's any consolation, my Master agrees it was incredibly stupid,” Quigsy chimed in.

“Thank you,” Seff exhaled.

“Well your Master mustn't know us as well as they think they do,” Lumni said.

“My Master thought you was better than this. Giving attention to yourself the way you did isn't a wise move if I'm offering advice”.

“We don't even know you,” Lumni hissed at him.

“And why is bringing attention upon us a bad thing?” Wick asked.

“How is it not?” Seff yelled.

“You know what forces pollute this world, do you not? It wouldn't be so clever to catch their eyes, if I may speak freely,” Quigsy continued.

“You have no idea,” Wick huffed.

“Hmm,” Quigsy grumbled. After a portion of silence, the carriage reached its destination. The three of them were prompted to dismount and take the rest of their journey back to Seff's home by foot. Moon heaved himself out and leant forward for strokes and pats whilst stretching his legs. “And this is where I leave you,” the stranger informed, “I hope I have been of good service”.

“Wait, why can't you take us all the way home?” Seff whined.

“Because I have matters to attend to with my Master. Besides, the dirt plains of Setune is no place for my broken cart. Who knows what bounty's have been struck regarding a runaway carriage full of criminals. You'll be safer without me at this point… though, I recommend making Moon the bear walk an alternate route,” Quigsy explained.

“Why so?” Wick scowled.

“Because people will be looking for an old man, and two children with a bear. At least without the animal's company it will less fit the bill if you're stumbled upon”.

“He's sticking with us all the way home,” Wick replied.

“Oh, so you're all coming back home with me, after what I told you?” Seff said.

“You weren't serious about relieving us from your care, surely?” Wick gasped.

“To an extent I was, but you're both going to have to stay in line and out of trouble before you give me heart troubles… and you can be sure I'm going to make you clean up after the bear a lot more!” the old man half shouted, half grinned. Quigsy wasted no time for goodbyes and left with just a salute in the form of a quick nod. “Let's hope we never see him again,” Lumni sighed.

“Show more respect… that Bonborran saved all of our lives. Although, it makes me paranoid knowing that there are people keeping watch over us,” Seff contemplated.

“What organisation do you think he's a part of?” Wick wondered.

“I don't know. Let's hope it's a good one”. The four of them had a tiring trek ahead of them before they got anywhere near to where they needed to be. The dirt plains of Setune was famous for its poor weather and lack of greenery, but it was the only passage they knew which would get them home in decent time.

Chapter 4: Earth Embodiment

Emmrin-Rashmada, home of the Slayers, was now also home to Yewnin. It seemed fitting for the world's most devious person to take shelter in the world's most devious place, but the alliance between he and King Zamanite was the only reason he stayed, and the only reason he had purpose for the Relentless King was for his army and his oppressive fist; the mighty clench that wrapped around the majority of the world. Their council was made up solely of the two of them for time being, with the occasional tortured Shaman for consultation. Yewnin's recent eradication of the underground jungle brought him back to the Slayer Kingdom with important matters to discuss. Rowdun's dragon had landed in an exclusive spot at the Dragon Port, with passers-by making sure they weren't in the way when during their dismount. The people feared the Woundless the most, but when travelling with the likes of Yewnin, they took extra care not to make eye contact or even breathe in their direction. Civilians had no physical evidence of their destructive powers, all they needed were the stories and infamous legends to feed nightmares. What was fact or fiction was unknown, but they didn't want to challenge Yewnin and Rowdun to find out. The two of them, along with Ecklethorpe, made their way from the port and towards the mountainous castle without the aid of royal guards. The obligatory rule of always having guards on-hand had been abolished by order of the king – the strength and bravery of his princes seemed more genuine when they walked without protection, which brought no complaints, as they didn't mind the better breathing space. It was enjoyable for them, able to walk with such glaring might, but pride was no noble trait. Fortunately for them, the definition of nobility was backwards to the rest of the world. All three of them could smell the fear in the air, seeping from people as they passed. Elite guards bowed without haste upon seeing their bodies swagger towards them, whilst Zamanite stood in the giant castle doorway with a distasteful grin, draped in gold, jewels, and the scars that came from achieving his status. “Thank you for your services, princes. Your father and I will discuss our next step… alone,” Yewnin prompted. Eck and Rowdun walked the opposite way to them, slowly pulling off parts of their armour whilst entering one of the many long corridors. The metal clanged onto the ground, left to collect dust without concern. The walls held up dozens of portraits of former Slayer Kings, differing in looks, from devilish and sinister, to pompous and glamourous. Jyllious the Conqueror, Peako the Relinquished, Cassmin the Slicer; the list seemed endless. The princes were never bored of looking at the past rulers. They valued each and every one of the great predecessors' varying traits, so much that they often found themselves wandering back and forth the corridors in admiration. Yewnin and Zamanite however had walked the other way and towards the king's private chambers. Spiral towers and mazes of staircases felt like a climbing venture after the first eight floors, yet the Relentless' stamina allowed him to ascend with ease, with enough breath spare to conversate. “I hope my sons did not disappoint,” he said, knowing full well that they wouldn't have. Yewnin chuckled, “Rowdun follows in your footsteps more and more by the day, I can see it”.

“Good. I am not as woundless as he. I will need a worthy successor soon”.

“And you think he is ready?”

“Readier than Ecklethorpe at least”.

“I feel a lack of certainty”.

“The would-be king must follow my footsteps exactly. I don't feel like either of them live up to my standards just yet, but hopefully, given the events of the weeks ahead, at least Rowdun will be… prepared”.

“And you think the situation with Hundo wasn't proof enough? My, my, you really are relentless”.

“You speak to me about my heritage and the affairs of my land, yet you only care for your bigger goals, so don't act like you have a say, or even deserve one, regarding what happens in my borders”. Yewnin didn't reply to the threat but smirked to himself. Before any tension could build, they had reached the private quarters, locking the doors behind them. The room was poorly lit, with only a few candles scattered about. Sticks of incense smoked up to the roof, giving off a surprisingly sweet smell that matched not with the king's persona in the slightest. To compensate, old blood-stained portions of the floor dotted themselves about, with the most morbid sight of all being the shackles on the walls, still clasping the severed hands of an interrogated prisoner. “And now, we shall talk,” Zamanite smiled whilst taking a seat. Yewnin copied and sat at the opposite side of the table, picking away at the chips in the wood. “I'll hand it to these relics… they do a grand job of being protected. I thought the Day Relic was a challenge… but I've grown since then, and my treacherous theft seems more like child's play now. So, when I say that the Earth Relic is impossible for us to summon, I mean it as both an educated man and an experienced one,” he stressed.

“So it is true. This beast, this, Trepidator… only one man can kill it?”

“One young man to be precise… and all signs point to that boy, Greenwick”.

“And you're positive?”

“That rambling Shaman spoke of a man in his youth… on a path that destiny has paved him. It explains why he seems to be at the centre of everything”.

“Yes, I recently sent out assassins to Filksolm, following a statement of which he was included in… but the trail was cold by the time they had reached the East”.

“The one chosen to overcome the evil around him. The only evil I've witnessed surrounding him is the voodoo in his veins”.

“Impossible. How does he live?”

“I don't know, but he defeated the Iwa, Lay-Vau – the one that apparently cursed him. Should that count as overcoming?”

“There is no mistaking it… the invincible beast was manifested for the sake of this… Greenwick taking is down, and the Earth Relic… only he can obtain it”.

“That's what I thought at first,” Yewnin muttered.

“Go on”.

“Even if he was able to destroy this monster, we would at least be able to kill the boy during his victory, and take the relic for ourselves, before he is able to-”.

“Your obsession with these two artefacts is worrying. You already have one”.

“Yes but I need the other!” Yewnin raised his voice by mistake. His untamed desire got the better of him, and it did not bode well, considering the look he received from Zamanite. “I doubt the boy has the experience required to defeat such a hell-spawn,” the king smirked.

“Yes, but we can't rely on chance, not now. There are bigger things at play here… this isn't chance, this is fate, his fate”.