Survival of the Soul

Chapter One

The warrior jumped, his sword slashing through waves of enemies. Bodies fell to the ground everywhere, as the hero approached his objective: the red dragon.

The creature turned to him and let out a mighty roar. He jumped at it, thrusting his sword into the dragon's mouth. The beast, however, was quicker, and hit him with its blood-red tail, sending the sword flying into the wall and his body against the ground.

Before he could do anything, the dragon placed its claws against him, pressing his torax against the cold stone ground of the cave. He saw the fire coursing through the dragon's throat, and his body was carbonized.

The world faded to black, the two dreadful words floating in nothingness.

Game over.

"Damnit!"

The handheld videogame console flew through the room, landing in the bed. The girl who threw it sighed and walked up to her desk. Choosing a random book from a pile laying on the corner, Jean sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling, not actually opening the book.

Yellow blots decorated the ceiling and the walls, courtesy of the many years of use the room had passed through. One of them was even shaped as an unicorn if you got the right angle.

Jean Sown stood up, the book flying from her lap and landing on the floor. She walked to the door, grabbed the key from her pocket, locked it and left.

The kitchen was just two minutes away in the titanic building that people called the Starring Institute for Parentless Children. Sort of like an orphanage, a school, and a club, all rolled into one, tragic package. Hence the "Parentless" part.

The room was empty. Evading the bits of unidentifiable food and liquid scattered across the floor, she walked up to the fridge and opened it. The cold breeze that followed was refreshing under the humid hotness of the american summer.

In the small plataforms, many different types of food rested. A half-eaten pie, two pots of grapes and a bowl of ice cream were part of the last. Jean stretched her arm, reaching for the upper part, where an intact piece of cake hid behind a bottle of milk and a bowl of strawberries. The only place no one would look for.

Pulling it down with one hand, she grabbed a fork and a knife with another. Being sure not to make any noises, she shut the fridge door, cutting the only reliable light source in the room except for the moonlight coming through the window. She silently slided down the corridors back to her room, the cake in hands. Entered it, and closed the door before turning on the faint lamp resting on the corner of the desk.

The clock in the hallway indicated that the time was something around two in the morning. The Moon outside shined brightly, having a slight yellow tone due to the pollution and fog, and no stars were visible. The dark skies were almost as dark as the chocolate cake.

After making sure not to wake up anyone, Jean made her way back to the kitchen to place the dirty dish and the cutlery in the sink, spinning the valve just a little so the water would come out as a hesitant stream, and not a river. After making sure everything was clean, she placed the dish and cutlery back into their place before leaving and entering the main room.

What she didn't expect, was to spot someone up this late. She hid behind the door, watching the silhouette walk up to the bookshelf by the corner and grab a remarkably small book. When the figure left the room, their silver hair reflected the Moon rays. Recognizing it, Jean walked up to the figure and lightly touched its shoulder, making it jump and clutch its chest.

"Jesus, Jean, what are you doing here?" The slender figure of her friend, Ezequiel Fyle, reassumed a more casual stance after realizing Jean posed no threat. The boy smiled and punched her lightly in the shoulder.