Camp Castaway: Touch of Darkness [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter Two: A Prophecy Recited

[At Camp Castaway]

"Here it is."

Dice forced down his admiration, confusion, and awe. The camp was humongous. He could tell that the other cabins were scattered somewhere else, but the three he could see could've been at least twelve elephants in three rows and four lines wide, and then some. The cabins could've been three stories tall, for all it was worth. Actually, they probably couldn't be called cabins.

"So, um... can the counselor help me find my way back to the city?" Mr. Flio promptly ignored his question and walked over to the cabin on the right, which appeared to be a little bigger than the left and middle cabins. He fought the urge to curse the angels as he followed the man.

When he got inside the cabin, Dice couldn't help but suck in a breath. The interior seemed like what the mahogany door would have led to. There was a flickering fireplace at the back wall, while there was a table on the right wall. Someone sat in a chair with wheels, the man having slicked back blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He also wore a cape, but it was as mahogany as the door he had opened. He wore a gray sweatshirt and black pants. Also, almost normal. He had a couple of succulents on his desk. Maybe not that normal.

"Ah, Croxer," the man at the desk nodded at Dice's escort before turning his gaze back to Dice. The boy fought the urge to shift uncomfortably. "Who's this? Oh, this must be the newest camper." The blonde man exchanged a knowing glance with Mr. Flio. What the hell was going on?

"What do you think his cabin would be?" Mr. Flio asked, obviously not caring about Dice's existence. He decided to use that to his advantage. But he couldn't really do that with the blonde man's sharp eyes on him. He steeled himself and straightened, though a small part of him still wanted to cower under the ocean blue gaze.

"Let's find out." Standing up, the man walked over to Mr. Flio, settling next to him and turning his eyes back to Dice. Unable to help himself, he glared fiercely at the man. Mr. Flio glared daggers at him, while the other looked mildly amused.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Klai, but you can call me Jax," he said. Dice stopped glaring and gave him a bewildered look. Huh!? Who taught these dudes manners? One guy was hostile, and the other was passive. But he could sense that the blonde was more dangerous than Mr. Flio. He could just... tell.

"I need to perform a spell on you," he said, as though that were a normal thing for him. Actually, maybe it was. Even creepier. He fought the urge to shudder. "But you have to stay still and close your eyes. Can you do that?"

Dice's nostrils flared at the challenge. Of course he could! What did he take him for? An idiot? Well boy was he wrong!

So when the older man took a step forward and held out his hands, Dice closed his eyes, and since he didn't know what to focus on, he just focused on nothing. He vaguely heard the chanting of Jax as warmth and light engulfed him.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug and jerked his eyes open, looking around accusingly. All he saw was Mr. Klai and Mr. Flio staring at him in open mouth shock, though Jax made sure to look a little sickly. When Dice flinched, Jax shot him a look, different emotions warring on his face.

"You... you are the next hawk." His voice was awed, and yet so uncertain. What the hell did that mean? A hawk? As in his cabin? He heard Sly yapping about some of the cabins all the time, like dove and wolf, but not once did he mention hawk. Was that a bad thing?

"Um—care to fill me in on what that means?" He swallowed his fear and turmoil as he turned on the older man.

Mr. Flio took one step forward, but quickly stopped there. "It means you're the newest quester. It has been three years since the last hawk quester had gone missing, and we'd been unable to give anything to the angels. But you're finally here now."

Before Dice could open his mouth again, Jax suddenly spoke, his voice ominous and full of mystery and certainty.

"A change in tide will roll the waves
Coming from those will be bitter days.
A roll of dice will mark the path
And seal the hawk on angel's wrath.
Atop the peak of clover's leaf
It does not matter what he believes
There will be a game of truth or lie
And then the dark shall finally die.
Though not all endings are joy and bliss
As some will fall under grief's abyss."

Something flashed, and he vaguely felt himself collapsing. Upon hearing those words, another voice echoed through the darkness he felt himself submitting to. It threatened to overwhelm him.

Beware, beware, Dice. There will always be a hefty price. And just like that, he was out cold.