Before the dragon leaped into the portal to the world of monster origin, another battle was waging on.
Inside the temple of crystal splendor, the young monsters swung enchanted weaponry at the raven black beasts that ravaged them with a ferocity that was equivalent to a thousand burning flames.
“We can’t just leave them,” Cecily whispered, her warm brown eyes flashing in the dimly lit hallway. “Can they handle all those Wreckers on their own?”
Charles shook his head slowly. The Wreckers were truly a force of evil, beings born of all the wretchedness and horror this sick, broken world had created. They’d obliterate everything in their wake.
“We need to find Fern,” Charles reminded her. “She’s here, and probably surrounded by more devils.”
The Crystal Temples were a labyrinth of interconnecting, shadow tunnels and loop-de-loops that made Charles’s head spin. If he were a soul-sucking creature of darkness, where would he hide a captive?
“We’re lost, aren’t we?” Cecily spat as they rounded the same marble corner they had five minutes ago. “We’re just stumbling around, Charles. Face it-Fern is dead.”
That was what broke Charles’s spirit. The devastated crack in Cecily’s voice as she was crushed with the horrifying realization that sometimes, you can’t save everyone. Sometimes, all hope is lost. Dreams crumble. Happiness breaks like fragile ice and faith is torn from your hands. Cecily-sweet, angelic, always loving Cecily-understood the harsh cruelties that existed.
No.
“We’ll find Fern,” Charles snapped. “Darla will stop the Shadow Master. Laurel will be alive and everything will be okay.”
Lies. All beautiful, wonderful lies. But lies nonetheless.
Cecily knew. Of course she knew. She wasn’t a child anymore, that was very obvious. But Charles refused to show his desperation.
All of the sudden, a scream pierced the air like a shard of glass.
It was a child-like, girlish scream that could only belong to one person.
It was that scream, blended with terror and ridden with fear, that restored their hope.
“Fern!” Cecily yelled, taking off at a lightning-paced sprint. Charles followed shortly behind her as they bounded from the hallway, past each corridor.
“Where is she?” Cecily screamed in frustration, yanking at her tight brown curls. They had reached a dead end.
“HELP MEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“We’ve searched every corner inside the temples,” Cecily shrieked, covering her ears. “Where is she?”
The truth struck Charles. “She’s not inside the Crystal Temples. I bet she’s on the roof.”
They exchanged a wary glance before taking off again, this time towards the window. When they approached the stained glass, Charles knew what he had to do.
His gift was always something to be ashamed of. It wasn’t mighty or great, worthy of the Crown Prince of Pharix.
But now? It was the perfect gift.
He breathed a blazing infernal flame into the window, which dissolved the glass as if it were melted butter. Neither uttered a word as they leaped out, shifting into dragon form midair.
The roof was slick, paned in crystal and diamond sheen that sparkled like ice. Two Wreckers stood next to a small girl, who was bound to the ground with ropes. Flames hovered all around her, biting into her delicate flesh.
It was Fern. And she was on the verge of death.
“Get away from my sister,” Cecily hissed. Charles had never seen the young telekinetic so riled up, so filled with anger. Steam was practically radiating from her. The fire in her dark, wild eyes was real and electric.
Ah, the little girl with the gift of movement and the dashing little prince. How feeble is your kingdom’s army if you are who is sent?
The Wrecker’s words burned into Charles’s skull. He stared at them in fury. “Let Fern go,” he whispered, attempting to keep his cool. Rage threatened to boil over. How long must they keep acting like adults when, in reality, they were just children? Why must they keep on this mask of sobriety and leadership?
Oh, dragons. So foolish you are. You’re deluded folks. You think the riches and wealth of the world all belong to you, but they don’t. This is the land of devils now, and we Wreckers are the kings. We’re born of sin…and so is Pharix. You are our slaves now.
Their words, emanating through Cecily and Charles’s brains, must have been what set her off.
For at that very moment, standing at the brink of death, Cecily finally snapped.
Charles could only watch in amazement as the sprightly spitfire raised her hands, shaking the ground furiously.
Oh god…she was going to break the temples!
“Grab Fern and leave. This place is going down,” Cecily whispered, running at a break-neck speed towards the Wreckers.
Her katana blades flung from her hands, like a twister of lethal steel and metal. The first Wrecker evaporated into mist on the spot, but the other was quick and moved away.
She had things under control. Charles hurried over to Fern and tore off her ropes in a luminescent slash of sword. The weak girl fell into his arms, her eyes closed. She was light as a feather. Charles could see the bruises and burns singed into her skin. Would she survive?
She’d have to. They weren’t going to give up. The war was still raging on.
“Run, Charles!” Cecily screamed, and he heard the sound of glass shattering.
He lifted Fern onto his back and jumped off the roof, unfurling his wings. They met the cold, whipping air, tinged with rain, in an explosion of scales.
The last thing he saw before vanishing into the forest was the temple collapsing.