Breaking The Balance

Breaking The Balance - Heroes Are Not Born, They Are Made

Jordan was walking in a desert. An endless, encompassing land filled with sand as far as his eyes strained to see. The sand was a pale white, a startling brightness that caused Jordan to flinch in pain – raising his arms to cover his face as he let his eyes adjust. When he lowered his arms again, the scenery had changed. The desert remained the same, excluding one small campfire that was burning in the distance, a lone figure sitting next to it as if it was waiting for something.

Jordan's feet moved by themselves, feeling drawn to the figure that was waiting in the distance. His feet sank into the sand, each footstep draining his will to carry on. His legs grew heavier, leaden weights that held him down with every inch he moved forward. The sky that started off as clear and blue began to turn black as storm clouds rolled in from every part of the horizon. There was electricity in the air, Jordan could feel it dancing against his skin and causing all his hairs to stand on end – goose bumps prickling his skin.

Soon Jordan could walk no further, his body drained of energy and his will to carry on sapped by his failure. The figure in the distance was gone now, along with the campfire. They were mere mirages created by his mind to give him hope when there was none. The rumble of the thunder was deafening to Jordan, whose paranoia was increasing with every second he spent in the forsaken desert. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he knelt in the sand, trying to comprehend what events had brought him to this point in life.

The booming thunder brought Jordan out of his despair, giving him mere moments to look skyward before the rain started pouring down on him. The scorching sand became cool and damp within an instant, soothing under Jordan's shaking hands. The cool liquid poured down from above, streaming down Jordan's body and dripping onto the sand below – leaving his clothes damp and clinging to his fragile form, leaving him shivering both in fear and with the cold.

A flash of light to Jordan's left startled him, causing him to scramble away from where the lightning had just struck. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision from the swimming dots that threatened to overwhelm him. There was nowhere he could go to escape the storm, the land around him was flat as far as the eye could see – there was no lower ground to protect him from the deadly bolts of electricity flickering in his peripheral vision. Jordan crouched as low to the ground as possible, with the balls of his feet on the floor and tucking his knees into his chest – heels together in an attempt to protect his fragile internal organs from a lightning strike. He remained like this for what felt like hours as the storm rumbled and flashed overhead.

"Jordan."

"W-What? Who's there?"

"Look at me you insignificant gnat."

Jordan dragged his eyes upwards to be faced with a sight he really wished he didn't have to see. A writhing mass of shadows floated in front of him, each shadow as black as the night, screeching and groaning as they stretched towards Jordan's still form – desperate to latch onto his mortal form and feast. The shadows had taken the silhouette of a normal man, a familiar shape that was filled with the darkness that lurked within everyone's nightmares.

"Where am I? What is this?"

The creature chuckled, a menacing sound that caused alarm bells to start ringing in Jordan's mind. His hand darted to his side, searching for the sword that always lay in a scabbard – but his hand found nothing but the cloth of the clothes he was wearing. He was unarmed and that terrified him.

"You are in probably the darkest place in the entire realm. This is your own head Jordan."

"What do you mean my own head? Stop talking in riddles!"