Shadow Lights and the Forbidden Crossings

Chapter Two: The Forbidden Crossing

Argos' neck snapped. He thought his head was bitten off by the snake, whose hissing face continued to haunt him, its large fangs dripping with fresh blood, its jaw stretched to swallow him up. The noose, revealed by his corroding armor, choked him tighter, rupturing his neck. He heard his spine crack, breaking in half. Blood spurted past his lips. Tasting it, he hoped it was Erwyn's staining his blade. A harpoon pierced him through and through; it felt like, the cold biting his flesh. He groaned, physically pained from head to toe, but worse, with heartache. Shadow Lights was cloaked with thick darkness—no moon, no stars, and no cruising Luceres. Desolate, the flowers were ruined, the grapevines burnt to ashes. Around him, though the ominous air was silent, it still blasted in his ears, screaming in favor of injustice.

A fearful whimper escaped his trembling throat. "Worse is to come... Umbra!"

Just make sure that you don't compromise our City of Refuge!

The Council of the Wings' stern warning boomed from his memory stone.

"I cut the deadline short..." Feeling guilty, his voice faltered. In his mind replayed the sound of the roaring hills—the Cities of Refuge closing at the night of the massacre. Tears welled around his jaded eyes. He hoped to hear the stones roll again, but not for the remnants to march out to their deaths.

The Chronicles of Light is in his possession. It holds the Truth!

His memory filled him with a faint burst of adrenaline that his body thrashed, fighting the noose. Angry shouts echoed throughout the hills, his voice cracking. "The book knows what the king did! I'll bring it home! The Truth and the rightful kin—"

The words halted, silenced by the stench that reeked heavily, reminding him of his failed take off. Burning his nostrils, he tasted the odor plunging into his throat, down to his stomach. With strain, he glanced at his memory stone, forbidding it to rewind his memory of the massacre. It flickered, refusing to remember, while he struggled to break away from the scent; a futile effort that stressed there was no escaping for his helpless being. Turning purple, his brittle neck stunk; the foul smell that permeated his body now twisting his insides into a painful maze.

Something in the air shifted. Argos shivered, feeling death coming for him. It clawed out a hole in his chest, allowing the cold air to pass through his lungs. However, the frostiness didn't help to catch his breath; rather, it made it worse, the difficulty increasing with each attempted breath, and each gust of wind that passed through his hole cavity. His fingernails tinted blue, like he just dug out his grave with his own hands.

"It's a death wish!" his mother said of his mission, her voice shouting from his dulling memory stone.

Erwyn's cackling played right behind him, mocking him for his predicament, but it was actually the sound made by his blond, waist-long hair freezing over. Flurries flew around him and landed on his gilded armor, like flies feasting on a cadaver.

"I'm not an article!" He spat out blood, refusing the silvery color the frost made on his armor. "I won't serve the king!"

Suddenly, familiar trails, trees, hills, and landmark stones showed up before him, projected as holograms by his memory stone. Chills crawled over his skin, his ring mapping out everything for him to trace his way back to his City. A shadow of guilt darkened his eyes. If only he could block out noise so he wouldn't hear the metallic sounds battering the shut cave; the nocturnal Deorcs prying it open with their weapons, or the pandemonium inside. Bitter cries, blood spilling, death rattles, fighting, the chaos of it all would surely be deafening. Of the things he would hear, the loudest to him was his mother's voice crying out.

"I'm sorry..." His distraught face begged for forgiveness.

Spirit crushed and defeated, his guilt was heavy enough that he believed the dark sky fell on him. The hefty burden caused his feathers to shed off and hover away, their pure white color standing out in the shady environment. His detached feathers gathered, and he watched as each feather morphed into Luceres of various ages and genders, all observing him from a distance.