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.
"Luceres!" Inside his icy chest, his failing heart jumped. "Finally! They left their City!" he rejoiced, excited to break the noose into pieces.
However, his fellows stood by.
"Why the hold up?" he wondered, appalled by their indecisiveness.
A gust blew his way, carrying a grim scent with it, making his stomach twist worse. The wind came from their side, carrying a heavy smell of death. It brought back his memory of the dull gemstones, buried at his feet and missing their owners. Seeing the memory stones in his palms, their shine became clearer. They were vividly colorful, and enchanting to look at. Glowing their signature colors, his blue eyes swirled with the reflected hues of the stones, his eyes like a color wheel. The luster of his memory stone, however, disappeared.
"Argos, come back..." his mother's voice echoed faintly from his ring, a request that sounded more of a goodbye.
"I love you, Mo—" The words welled up from his fading heart, sincere but incomplete; his effort to save her resulting in death. Taunting him, his stone replayed the words of affection. They no longer sounded loving; rather, insulting. He lowered his head, guilt weighing him down; everything went downhill from the moment he left the City. Eyes downcast and weak, he saw below him the sword's feeble light, his name inscribed on its blade, buried under the pent up floods of dark mist.
Argos. Reading his name, it spoke as a grim reminder that he alone was to be blamed for everyone's death. His name, once a saving grace, had become a byword for anyone who'd be stupid enough to rebel against the king.
Something dripped.
Tears? he wondered, for the misery he brought to everyone.
More drops fell.
Erwyn! Anger burned in his heart, a feeling that wouldn't die. Scarlet beads fell from his feet; the poisonous wine, he thought at first. Plucked feathers glimmered in a gathering puddle, followed by a death rattle escaping his bluish lips. The sound, too terrifying, contorted his spirit in agony while death's embrace came for him. His dead fellows waited by. Their corpses swayed to the tune of the king's dark spell singing over the terrified hills, held up around their necks by blood-stained nooses.
"Out of the ground..."
Truth, Love, and Justice.
Reciting the Fruits of Light, he jumped over the king's spell, hoping to drown it out with his own thoughts. His shaky breaths turned into thin, cold puffs. He convulsed, his limp body beginning to follow after those around him, freezing over with each passing second. With the sound of the dark spell humming, too weak to even think of the Fruits of Light, there was the faint buzz of his feathers and bones snapping, falling rigid under the cold. He couldn't feel that pain, losing feeling in his limbs; the tissue of his body dying from frostbite.
Someone help me! Though refusing to turn into a corpse, his cry stayed and died with him. His frozen body started swaying against his will, joining the rhythm of the dead around him.
The darkness, originally watching him, began to engulf him. He felt being pulled away, his feet dragging against flat ground, an odd thing. Puzzled when he saw nothing, he tried to look around.
This is death? he wondered, just as something faint hissed from his left. Turning his head, completely in the dark, the sound doubled, a similar sound echoing to his right. Continuing to spin around in search of the source, the noise multiplied, growing in volume until it surrounded him, drowning him out.
"Aaaaahh!" Covering his ears changed nothing, the hissing too loud to block out. He shut his eyes, the sight before him fixed to stay.
Behind his eyelids, when he expected another layer of nothingness, he saw a faint glimmer, the only thing his retinas could truly register. It was only a single light, a white glow, like at the end of a tunnel. The hissing, at the appearance of a light, faded away, scared off.
Freed from the haunting noise, he yearned to run toward the light, but found he couldn't move in that direction. However, the moment he wished to approach it, his dragging stopped. His face lit up, thinking he could make his way toward it now, just as the invisible ground under him gave out. Unable to voice anything, he plunged, falling from the height of the sky, deep into the belly of the abyss, a horrifying place to be in: dark, cold, and heavy. He wouldn't wish it for his fellows, this death, yet he gave it to them. Death, he realized, was a lonely place. While they would be together soon, with his mother and the rest of the remnants, the family of dead grassroots didn't look happy.
The light came his way. Was it the sun in Evergreen? he pondered, despite knowing it was already futile to think about. Regret pinched his heart. His mission was within reach. He could feel the sympathy of the dead Luceres. They were following him, reaching out with their dirty hands. Reasoning that he didn't belong to their kind, he refused them, which they contested with cold stares. Just as he was about to hit the bottom, joining the dead Luceres rotting inside the snake, the light descended on him. It held him back, like a chain forbidding his departure, halting his plunge abruptly. Bearing strong arms, it carried him up and away, back to the place of his limbo. Somehow, the light bore a scent, tickling his nostrils.
It doesn't reek. It doesn't make my stomach sick. While comprehending the scent, his frosted eyebrows twitched. Wait. I can move my eyebrows?
Amazed, he tried flapping his wings, desiring to soar up and leave death behind, but all he managed to do was flick his right index finger. It clicked softly but it was more than enough.
His memory stone started glowing.
Watered grass! The moment he figured the smell, a drizzle fell. It sounded from a short distance. Trees shook; another noise he picked up. His leafy ears wiggled.
Erwyn!
A hand pulled him up from the depths, which was the cold holding him captive. The kind gesture confused him, expecting aggression. Light danced behind his shut eyes, like a doctor's light pen. A smile tried to form on his stapled lips. Someone stepped out of a City; a weapon, he surmised, brave like him. Warmth beamed out to his cold face, defrosting it so he could finally smile. Slowly opening his eyes, Argos wondered who owned the healing hand.
A fist-sized ball of light greeted him.
"Huh? Who sent you?" he asked, the sound of his brittle voice making him glad.
Creaking boomed overhead; the frozen branch that hoisted him up melting. Soon, he found himself saying goodbye to his deceased fellows. "I'll give you justice," he promised them.
Landing, he released himself from the noose, snapping it into pieces with just one pull; infuriated by his blood dripping from it. He went straight for his sword, still limping, weighed down by his skewed wings.
"I'll get my revenge," he muttered, the blade blazing faintly at his touch.
The darkened pathway ahead was lit up; the glowing ball flashing like a headlight. He followed it, relieved to see the way. Finally he wasn't alone, but his heart was pounding nervously. Off to do the forbidden, he felt iffy. Yet, he must. And now, he had a guide. It knew the route to Evergreen better than he did; meaning that whoever sent it had already passed over.
Frosted bushes melted as the light made its way past, the cramped pathway opening up, much to his wings' relief. It crisscrossed along the woods, really strategic. His forehead creased, puzzled and awed. It took him further to a dead end with tall hedgerows boxing him in.
"You played me!" he cried, searching for a Deorc lurking in the bushes.
However, one of the hedgerows opened like a sliding door, revealing a secret passage.
"Huh?" His wonder swelled.
Taking the new path, more appeared as he went along, hidden in similar fashions.
About to fret over the endless labyrinth, another hedgerow opened, revealing a skywalk with a sparkly tunnel at the end. Turning to the new opening, he realized what it led to when he caught sight of the bridge. "The Omniscient Gate!" he rejoiced, only to fall nervous fast. "I shouldn't be here."
The wind howled; he was sure the king's dark spell was mixed in with it. Scampering, he kept his prejudice at bay, and reached the foot of the bridge. Moving up, each slippery step proved to be a hurdle, his broken wings continuing to pull him down. Their weight threatened a repeat of his ascending with each teeter. "Argh! I can't believe I'm climbing!" he grumbled, weirded out at each achieved step, yet he managed to reach the deck.
"Everything is dead," he spoke, catching sight of the frozen railings and huge statues. Each sculpture was carved in the image of a male guard Lucere, holding a sword. They were spread across the bridge, serving as posts. He scooted to the closest sculpture nervously, as if it was alive and ready to swing its sword against him for wandering this way. Its face bore animosity while looking down on him, like it already knew what he was up to. Letting out a long exhale, he turned to the abandoned tunnel. "There are no Guardians. No one will try to stop me. No one will see..."
The walls inside the tunnel glimmered.
"... but the witness stones."
A pocket of wind carrying flurries swirled by, bringing in the king's dark spell. It drawled at his face, shouting from all around. Falling to his knees, grimacing, he covered his ears.
The rattling noise played, just as the snake jumped out of nowhere. Its menacing, yellowish eyes blinked mischievously, telling him how delicious a dessert he would be; its favorite unspoken line to him. Blood dripped from its large fangs. Argos shuddered, knowing the taste of his own.
"Argos! Why didn't you help us?" voices shouted, coming from its throat.
Argos' feathers shriveled, the orchestra of grisly cries and death rattles playing nonstop in his ears. His fingers gripped his hair, ears ringing and thinking he was going to lose his mind.
A presence hovered over him, the snake about to swallow him whole. He felt its sharp fangs drawing near, about to pierce his head, but a bright, warm light whizzed in a blink. Flurries fell on his head, the ball of light bursting apart the blizzard about to descend on him. The king's dark spell whispered its way back into the woods, like a coward not wanting to fight. He snapped out of his memory of the snake.
The ball of light headed toward the tunnel. Trekking the icy bridge, it defrosted a way for him to follow. His feet stepped on damp, thawed ground. It was much better than walking over the slippery ice covering everything else.
Light beams went out from the tunnel; the witness stones sensing the ball of light approaching. A sparkle hit it. Upon contact, the sphere transformed into a hazy image of a male Lucere wearing a purple, silk coat.
"Prince Elijah!" Argos recognized his clothing at once. Making sure he was seeing correctly, he blinked repeatedly. "You've returned!" He jumped in joy, but his weak knees betrayed him on his landing.
Prince Elijah's silhouette moved away.
Argos stood up fast, knees trembling as he steadied his feet. "I had news for you," he confessed, steeped in guilt. "I went to your nest, but you already left."
Prince Elijah's silhouette entered the tunnel.
"Wait up!" Argos skated over the ice.
Hiccups rang out.
"Erwyn," he snarled, gripping his sword. The blade blazed. Pivoting, he was met with a silvery spark emerging from the woods.
The frozen canopies shook.
Something swooshed through the air.
His eyes turned wide. "Arrows? But you're not a wea—"
Arrows hurtled out from the frozen trees. They came in strong, almost too late for him to realize what they were.
"Poisonous wine!" Argos blocked each attack but was soon overwhelmed. He retreated to the tunnel. A bright light, like a camera flash, dazzled him; the witness stones capturing his entry. He kept on, knowing he couldn't go back.
"Argos, Argos," the witness stones called.
His conscience nagged him, while the tunnel tolled thrice, hit by the flying icicles, a death knell. Worried for himself, he thought of glancing back. Broken icicles bled out wine on the entrance floor. More icicles of frozen wine hurtled through the air. He rushed away as fast as he could with a limp, but the witness stones kept on flashing around him, like paparazzi; his name recited over and over in condemnation. Suddenly, hiccups filled the tunnel. Argos turned back and saw Erwyn's winged silhouette at the entrance. His ears turned red, feeling insulted.
"It's still death for me," he said of his journey.
Warm wind stroked the back of his head, making him look away from Erwyn. He moved forward, leaving behind the accusing witness stones; his name still echoed, fading into whispers. Exiting, a soft light shone on him. His jaded, blue eyes widened.
"Gray Border..."
Bright light, like electric eels, ran across a wall, streaming from everywhere. They were lovely to look at, really enchanting. Argos followed them as they moved back and forth. When his eyes landed on the base of the wall, he pulled his head back in shock. "This wall of light stands on dead ground!"
Something fluttered, a familiar sight: a pair of golden wings. It flew erratically around the wall, like a butterfly frolicking in the daylight.
"Wait, that's a—" He checked his chest plate; a pair of wings sparkled, engraved into the gilded gold.
The roaming wings flew in a circle before heading to the right side of the wall, where Prince Elijah's silhouette was standing all along.
Argos beamed, relieved to see him finally, and at a close distance. "Look! We're both weapons now!" he bragged, pointing to his chest. "I finished the training! I'm in the Arms!" About to pull out his d'amad, the tunnel clanked behind him—sharp flint-like icicles entering the tunnel, mobilized by Erwyn, who remained at the entrance.
The Gray Border sizzled.
"No! Don't cross again!" Argos pleaded as he panned back to the wall, just in time to witness Prince Elijah's crossing.
From the corner of his eye, Argos saw the red tip of a sharp flint about to impale him, its poison sparkling, like the blood dripping from the snake's fangs. He galloped fast after Prince Elijah. His conscience nagged him again. Erwyn's sarcastic laugh made it worse for him.
"Hah! As if my crossing is worse than you killing grassroots!" Argos yelled in self-defense. "You killed children!"
As the flint icicle was about to crush his skull, he dove into the wall of streaming light. His terrified face burst into joy, light washing over him with the feeling of cold, gentle water. The moment of comfort lasted only a moment, before he entered the Gray Border. Its soothing touch, light as air, was replaced by sudden downpours, the air humid and loud, while waters raged below, booming with snarls.
His mind spun, disoriented. Time warped again, it seemed, just like what happened at his exit from the City of Refuge with the daylight. Behind him, the bright wall, a gate of light he realized, bid him farewell. Dark waters licked his feet. He hovered, groaning in pain from his broken wings. The tarred ground, he found out, was part of a chasm. Growls boomed underneath from the waters. Straining his broken wings to move, keeping his head up, he fought against the heavy downpours, fearing the snapping, large teeth he could feel were after him.
"Where's the sun?" he asked desperately while searching for it amidst the dark clouds with his blurry vision. A small wave surged, blocking his view, making him lose his orbit. His heart stalled a beat.
The heavy rain and strong winds forced him down. He fought back, but their pressure was too much for him to overcome. About to give up, a faint light shone ahead. He focused on it, not losing sight.
The growling below grew louder, where he could feel the chasm opening its mouth to swallow him whole. Before it could, the faint light swelled, multiplied, and turned into another wall of streaming light.
"Another gate..."
Stretching out his right arm to the wall of light, his fingertips touched it, just as a beast jumped out of the chasm. From his peripherals, he saw its long, dark limbs reaching out to him, like that of a kraken; the night seemingly following him.
Waves grew taller behind him. The beast, hidden by a surge, came rushing at him. Glancing back briefly, Argos saw its silhouette from behind the dark water. By then, his hand already dove into the wall of light midway. Not even an inch away from the beast's limb, the gate pulled him in.
White noise erupted. The streaming lights fell on him like clear waterfalls.
Yet, he felt dirty.
Crossing over and touching down, he was stunned by the sudden daylight. Spring wind blew against his wet face, the ringing in his ears fading. A hazy canvas of greenery greeted him. Smiling, glad to see healthy trees, his depleted chest filled with an overdose of oxygen scented with rich soil and leaves. However, the trees were midgets; skinny and only a few feet tall. They barely reached a quarter of the heights of the trees in Shadow Lights. His smile faded, unimpressed by the view.
The earth trembled.
He reached for his sword, startled, believing the snake followed him. Realizing it didn't, he looked down when something bumped into his foot—the peeled grasses rolling back to cover the tarred floor. Releasing his sword, he hovered, letting the grass roll flat. Once the tarred ground was concealed, the shaking ceased. Landing, tiny wildflowers sprouted.
"W-What?" Argos panned back to the trees, befuddled. "Is Evergreen cursed too?"
A sparrow emerged from a tree, flying away in slow motion.
Gasping, he covered his mouth, shocked by its speed and size.
Flowers bowed before him, blown by the wind. Trees rustled.
Argos started feeling dizzy. "Evergreen is welcoming my tres—"
The sun blazed at his cold face, cutting him off, which he took as a challenge to a staring contest. Glaring at it, unblinking, he sneered. "Not bright at all!" He then scanned the sky, a suspended ocean with no sparkling waves.
A gust of spring wind slapped his cheek, which he felt was retaliation for his contempt. It was a pathetic effort, yet he inhaled it, allowing it to roam around his chest. The disdain in his face left. "True. I'm still alive," he said half-heartedly, still burdened by his forbidden crossing. He looked down at the flowers and made a lukewarm shrug. "Plus, there's this small hope." In an act of compromise, he spread his broken, wet wings, embracing the sunlight. Its warm bite penetrated his cold flesh, making his blood boil and sending him a sweet shiver, like he just relieved himself.
Water dripped.
He looked to his right, and to his left, afraid somebody believed he was really leaking, prompting him to remember Prince Elijah. "I wasn't..." he paused, blushing as his right foot hit a puddle that was caused by his thawing wings. For a second, he thought he did pee. "W-Where are you?" he stammered, looking around for Prince Elijah's glimmering shadow.
Part of the bushes on his left glowed.
"Prince Elijah, it's time for your return," he implored, smiling amidst his dizziness. His limp left him as he approached the bushes. Reaching the spot, his smile left too when finding no one. "Prince Elijah?"
Another section of bushes across his spot began to glow. Flashing toward it, a frustrated sigh escaped him. "Still." The glowing crystal studs on his boots continued to cause a glare, glistening; the culprit, he realized.
A breeze blew.
He stood still, waiting for Prince Elijah's voice.
Seconds passed by.
"Where are you?" With crusty, lazy eyes, he looked up at the cumulus clouds, assuming Prince Elijah was playing hide-and-seek. However, the slow movements sent him spiraling; his second round with concussion, it seemed. The billows dawdled, obviously not pressed for time, unlike him. "We don't have time!"
Healing light beamed out in the middle of his right palm as he touched his forehead. His lightheadedness vanished. The blisters and bruises on his neck faded away. Each cut was sewn shut by an invisible needle, his broken feathers straightening up.
"Now I'm ready to play." Smiling bitterly after his memory stone reminded him of his failed takeoff, he snorted before shrugging. The sky smelled good, and the weather was nice. "Well, it's another day," he told his stone while spreading his newly-repaired wings.
He shot up.