Something was wrong. Nikhi knew that as she watched the commotion below, but she didn't lift a finger. It wasn't that she couldn't, it was just that time seemed to moving be slow and blurry and her body didn't want to move despite nothing being wrong with it. 

Yes, swords were clashing in the valley below her and yes the constant chatter and occasional shouts of the excited, taking out those supernatural...  things, was a constant drone in her ears, but it all seemed surreal. Like she were in a tank of water instead of watching a 'battle' take place. Perhaps it was just because of that same lazy haze that made her not want to finish those documents within the day, or sometimes kept her from making a meal for herself even though she was hungry; however whatever it was, seemed stronger than usual.

All that stopped when a familiar aura flared in her peripheral vision. No. Everything now screeched to a bleeding, painful stop. No.

"T-that's impossible." She mumbled to herself, "It's impossible. He's dead. Really, it's impossible."

Some horrid sensation gathered like rainwater in her stomach. Hot, spicy red rain. Her body seemed to move on its own, standing up and trailing closer, tip-toeing for a better view. 

"It can't be. This has to be a hallucination, or something, right?" A small laugh fluttered off her lips. "He... He can't still be around. It's over. He's over." Her unsteady voice cracked.

She ignored the shouts of her approaching hunting-mates, climbing down a side path, steps tapping off the wooden staircase built up the side to their nearby temporary settlement, then nervously circled back. She stood back atop the hill, another laugh cracking her internal chaos. "How? He left. He died. He left, me alone. He's gone. He-he can't be here."

Tears prickled at Nikhi's eyes and the sick feeling rose up again like a wave, then subsided; leaving a wake of stinging, tingling, bitter hotness.

"He's gone. Our whole town is gone. My bakery. Our memories..." Her voice softened, "It's all gone, they're dead. Our home is gone. The bakery is gone. He is too. Everything..." she choked on the sudden wetness in her throat, "is gone." 

She looked back down. His aura was still there, moving around as if it were alive. Again, Nikhi's body seemed to move on its own, floating over the rim and peering into the caldera within. The sound of her hunt-mates still echoed loud, and she still paid them no mind. It was as if everything else had disappeared. "I need to leave here." She turned in her heel and rushed to the river that burbled between her and the camp, head heavy but dizzy all the same. "The smell of cake..." she splashed at the water, cold seeping into her legs and feet, "I-I need to find my bakery..." With renewed purpose, her feet flew over the earth as Nikhi sped to the temporary village, sun eclipsed by the full-tunnel bridge on the way there.

The bakery was gone, the whole town was gone; yes, but Nikhi still stumbled around, repeatedly, confusedly murmuring the same words that she herself did not understand anymore. She finally found herself in a natural alcove between on the edge of the settlement and stared. Then took one step closer.

"It's still here..." She inched closer, then gingerly pressed into the wooden door. It gave, swinging open on slightly creaky hinges, and the scent of dust and something familiar filled her consciousness. Nikhi looked around, panicked; "My bakery... It's here... How...?" Her feet brought her through the familiar interior, paces growing quick and erratic, "I-I... I have to destroy it! It's not real! It can't be!" She felt as if she would drown under the weight of each of her breaths, the ringing in her ears, the sounds of memories that inundated her like a flood and threatened to bury her alive, too many colours and sounds and emotions overlapping and flashing in an endless sea of darkness.

Her fingers found her way to her pocket, and she pulled out something she had once wished never to see again. Unraveling the protective casing, she fumbled with the red sticks; pulling the string, stiff and coarse with wax, taut. She hurriedly scattered them around the building full of memories. It was in only a moment that the sharp clank of metal scatching flint. All that was left was the sizzle, and Nikhi threw herself from the building, hands strembling. It was only moments later that there was little left but the frame of the sad bakery, supported by the surrounding natural rockwalls, leaving the girl to continue scratching the steel and flint as if to burn every last shred of grass that had stood witness to the deed. 

Ironic, how the bakery went the same way as him, if only by a different hand. 

~~~~~~~~~

Just processing some stuff :D

I sometimes get lost too deep in the heads/stories of [my] characters and this is really the only way to safely get it out of my system. 

A girl stands a the edge of the chasm. Black rocks, black sheared cliffs, black dripping from somewhere; there's black everywhere. But there's white too. Bleak white skies, clouded white air, white in her eyes; white is everywhere too. 

She stands, hair swaying like reads in the wind; everything else unmoving. Her mind is racing, weighing options but the world is none the wiser.

Should she stay? There's so much left still to explore in this world, so much to learn, to read, to write and see. There's so many more moments to experience and secrets to unlock... Probably.

Is it okay to leave, just like that? She thinks about the people she's met. Many are gone now, but there are still some left; reeling in the emptiness and aftermath of their losses. They probably had so much to say. So many more stories, so much more support to give and take, so many more memories to form.

The girl peers down, and fights the urge to stagger backwards. It's a long way down, into whatever lies beneath the haze in that abyss. Maybe there won't be anything. Or maybe there will be something better than anything she could ever imagine. Perhaps there would be endless riches, colours and sensations galore, more endlessly glorious adventures, and perhaps even the people who had disappeared; maybe they had simply moved on to explore the wonder of this fantastic new place!

But maybe there will only be hard, black sharp stones, just like there is up here. Perhaps there will be endless dark rivers with no bottom that could ever be reached by a mere mortal, cold and sapping the life from its poor entrapees, victims, with every painful breath one closer to eternal slumber. Who could possibly say for certain.

The girl thinks of everything she has been through, all her troubles and struggles and past adversities. It does not take long for her to make her choice. 

The only thing that is certain is that it is a long way down to the bottom of the chasm. If there even is one, that is.

She jumps. 

top!

Confetti says "citiy." City?  What city? 

(Hmm I guess this would be a picture book, if I could draw?) 

The book was old. 

It had yellow, crinkly pages that were ripped on the edges, and a dark red cover that was constantly fraying. 

It was so, so tired. 

Tired of sitting on a shelf, collecting dust. Tired of never being opened, never explored. Tired of being used for a paperweight. Tired of kids picking it up and dropping it because it was so heavy. 

It was too old to be a book. 

The book bided its time, waiting for the moment when the librarian would pick it up and decide it was too old,

too worn out, 

too boring

to be a book. 

Then it could finally have peace.

One day, a boy came into the library. The book did not know this. It did not have eyes,

nor ears,

nor a nose.

But when the boy picked up the book,  ran his finger along its inked words, 

the book knew.

The book knew when he turned the page gently, careful not to tear its fragile pages.

The book knew when he pressed it to his chest, breathing in the papery smell of stories. 

The book knew when he curled into the words and followed along with his heart.

The book knew

it had been found.  

And it would never let go. 

Hey! Don't know if anyone wanted the next chapter of my boundary story but too bad you're getting it, lol 

~~CHAPTER THREE

 

The Battle

“Do you ever wonder what’s beyond the Wall?”

Marren’s soft voice took Marty by surprise. He swiped his face angrily. What was wrong with him? Lowtizens never cried.

Apparently I’m breaking every Lowtizen characteristic, he thought a little proudly. First I get a job, now I cry. Ha.

He turned around slowly, his eyes seeking Marren’s shock of hair. She was not easy to miss. There she stood, a little smile on her normally-grave face.

“Well?”

“Of course,” said Marty. “Everyone does at some point, don’t they? But no-one goes beyond the Wall.”

Marren tilted her head. “But they have tried,” said the young captain quietly. He startlingly-green eyes stared levelly at him from her sun-tanned face. “Many have tried, myself among them. But the Wall—the Wall is impenetrable. Even when I sail far enough away that the shores of Boundary become misty and faint, I am still only sailing a toy boat in a great bay, the Wall grows no nearer! Always it is there! Always am I blocked by some unseen force; blocked from realizing my dream!” Her eyes burned with passion and frustration. Her eyes, her beautiful green eyes.

Marty stood up slowly. Despite the fact that they barely knew eachother, he stepped forwards and gently, tentatively, put his arm around her. She flinched but did not pull away. Their eyes met.

“We’ll do it,” Marty said with determination. “We’ll do it, you and I—together we shall cross the Wall!” And as the words fell from his lips he was filled with a wild, sudden desire to see beyond the Wall—see if there was any world beyond Boundary; or if it was truly all desolation and abandon and desperation forever, as all the tales said. See if there was a salty river much swifter and wilier than any sea within the walls of Boundary. See if past this country there was really no life left but skumdinkers in the air and dirtiworms in the soil.

He wanted to break the bonds of Boundary.

He wanted to see beyond the horizon.

He wanted to go beyond the wall!

Little did he know that soon he would be forced to do just that.

 

ab

 

The moon gleamed above the ship. The Trailblazer’s prow sliced through the water smoothly and swiftly. Perched in the crow’s nest, Tony surveyed the horizon in silence.

On the deck, Marty was asleep. The captain was sitting next to him, absently stroking his hair—love already, and they’d only just met! Ugh.

Tony brushed his curly hair back from his forehead, poked the beam and yawned. It was chilly but not too chilly, and the wind was light but blowing in the perfect direction. They were passing the Dark Shoals, home of Stygian, and the hoisted sails were black so as to blend in. Tony scanned the horizon again. Still nothing. The silence was almost ominous, broken only by the occasional slap of a wave against the hull.

Born in the Lower Heights to a family who wanted nothing to do with him, Tony had been abandoned as soon as he turned five. Then he’d wandered the continent until he settled in the Lows, where he’d met Marty.

It had been quite a funny meeting. Tony drifted in to a memory, keeping his eyes sharp on the horizon.

 

He was six and a half and lying behind a crumbling stone wall, sleeping with one eye open. His dreams were troubled, mostly of his family abandoning him. He had to relive the nightmare every night.

Just then, shouts roused him from his restless slumber. He sat up under the thin gray blanket he had snagged from a laundry line, closed his eyes, and listened hard.

Feet thumping on stone. A feeling of terrified elation. Light footsteps, heavy footsteps. What was going on?

He clambered up the wall and poked his head over the top of the wall, which swayed dangerously. A blond-haired kid who looked about his age was racing down the street, glancing back over his shoulder at two men chasing him.

“Hey kid, give back that necklace!” the larger of the two shouted. “We paid good money for the thing!”

Tony assessed the kid briefly. A practiced young thief, must’ve just snitched a necklace from a pawn shop. Well accustomed to running and unwilling to give in. They were coming straight at him and normally he would’ve left in a hurry, but something about the kid’s eyes kept him where he stood. Gray-blue, but intensely determined they were—he looked like someone who would watch the world fall in fire before he’d give up.

A moment later, the kid jumped onto the wall beside him. There was a heart-stopping moment where the whole structure shook, and then the wall collapsed with an explosion of dust.

There went my blanket, Tony thought ruefully. Oh well.

The blond-haired kid spun around and jumped. “Oh,” he said. "I didn’t realize anyone was here. Sorry to bother you, but could you tell them I went left?” Without waiting for an answer, he barreled off to the right.

The men came to a halt beside Tony, breathing heavily. “You there, boy,” one of them said, “you didn’t happen to see a blond-haired kid come through here, did you?”

“Me?” said Tony innocently. “Whyever would you think that?”

“You were right here,” said the other one skeptically.

“Oh, yes, I suppose I might’ve seen one run by,” said Tony slowly, “but if you’ve seen one blond kid you’ve seen them all, if you know what I mean?”

“We don’t care, just tell us where he went!” yelled the first.

“Oh,” said Tony. “Should I have been paying attention to that? Y’know, if you’ve seen a blond kid run left, you’ve seen him run right, if you get what I mean?”

“No we don’t and we don’t care; just tell us which way he went!” screeched the second one.

“Hm,” said Tony. “Well I think it was left, but on the other hand it could’ve been right, and I surely don’t want to accidently misinform you nice fellows.” He gave a charming smile. “You see, he could’ve gone south, but if I don’t have my directions right it could’ve also been north, you see? But then suppose it wasn’t either of those, and rather west? But if it wasn’t west it might’ve been east, but north is equally likely. However, south is also probable, but if you take into account the direction of the wind it could’ve been in a westerly direction, yet according to the tilt of the street I could also say he went east. Now thinking of the clouds and wind today, I would—”

“STOP IT!” both men yelled in unison. “WHICH WAY DID HE GO?!!”

“Oh, yes, that was the original question, was it not?” Tony murmured. “But who is it you’re looking for again?”

"A. Blond. Kid.” hissed the first man. “He stole our necklace.”

"A necklace, hmm?” Tony said. The blond boy must be miles away by now, but just to be safe… “What did it look like?”

“An emerald-encrusted silver chain,” snarled the second man.

“Emerald encrusted! My, that must be valuable,” said Tony sympathetically. "I’m sorry you lost it. On second thought,” he said suddenly, "I believe he went left.”

“Finally!” growled the first, and he ran off without a word of thanks. The second one paused, nodded briefly to Tony, then charged after the first.

Tony turned, satisfied, and was surprised to find the blond kid staring at him from a nearby rock pile. The emerald necklace dangled from one of his hands. He looked impressed.

"I’ve never seen anybody distract Bill and Bambi so easily,” he commented. “And the way you handled it, frustrating them to the point they want to kill you, yet holding valuable information over their heads so that they can’t?” He nodded briskly. “You’ve got true skill there, whoever-you-are.”

Tony blinked at him, shocked into silence. He tried to speak, but all that came out was, “BILL AND BAMBI?!”

“Thieves’ Den nickname for ‘em,” the kid explained. "I’m Marty, by the way.”

"I’m Tony.”

And just like that, they were friends.

 

Tony sighed and looked down at Marty again. They’d helped eachother out of plenty of scrapes, but that was the most memorable of all escapades.

With a jolt, he realized he was neglecting his job. He whirled around, scanning the still sea wildly, and found to his shock that flaming flares were exploding silently in the darkness.

“ALERT!” he screamed. “FireFlares off six o’clock!”

 

ab

 

Marren glanced up at the noisy lookout, thinking he sounded like some kind of squabbling sparrow. The flares had been flashing for nearly ten minutes, and everyone was already up on deck, quietly preparing the boarding hooks. What had Prickett been thinking—no, he hadn’t thought at all, obviously! “Get down from there,” she called sharply to him.

“With pleasure!” He sounded proud. Did he think she was going to praise him? Praise him, a low-born twelve-year-old? Never in the world!

She turned back to the sinking ship. It was taking a great risk here, flashing those flares at midnight while sinking. If anyone but them had noticed the flares, they’d all have been taken prisoner—or worse—by Stygian…so close to the Dark Shoals; why were they sailing over here anyways?

Marren turned to the boy sleeping beside her, his blond hair pale in the moonlight. “Wake up, Marty,” she commanded, touching his arm lightly. “It is time.”

“What, what, what?!” he demanded, leaping to his feet. “What’s happenin’? Attacked by pirates? Giant storm coming? Lemme at ‘em!” He tried to throw himself off the side of the boat, and Marren just managed to catch him.

She hauled him close to herself, put her mouth to his ear, and screamed, “WAKE UP!!!”

“Ugh! Ack! No need to be so noisy,” he grumped, opening his gray-blue eyes. “What IS it, by all the rainbows?”

Marren snorted. “‘By all the rainbows’?” she inquired.

“Phrase in the Lows.” Marty brushed his hair out of his eyes. “What is it?”

“Your first job is what it is,” Marren answered. “There’s a sinking ship just ahead; see its flares?”

Marty nodded somberly. Plumes of fire were bursting off the bow, flashing across the water.

“What do I have to do?” Marty asked. Marren admired his quiet determination and strength.

“Ok, Marty. I need you to swing grappling hooks across the water to the other ship, understand? And when they’re firmly attached, leg it across and tell them we come in peace.”

“Why can’t you hoist the white flag?” asked Marty, struggling to untangle the mess of grappling lines with his frozen fingers.

Marren’s face grew grave. Slowly, she raised her finger and pointed across water the color of obsidian, to a ship moored no more than fifty yards away from them. And when she spoke her voice was as forbidding as the dark clouds gathering on the horizon; as ominous as the ebonized silhouette of the ship which she pointed to.

“Stygian.”

 

ab

 

Marty swung across the grappling lines and landed on the deck. He found the crew and passengers huddled together on the quarter deck, looking resigned to their fate.

Marty stared at them for a moment uncomprehendingly. “Don’t worry,” he finally said, “we want to help you.”

The people looked relieved. After a small amount of talk, Marty managed to gather that they knew of Marren V. Steeple and her ship-saving crew.

"I’m sorry,” said Marty, “but I think I have to tie up your hands. It won’t look convincing otherwise.”

“But who is here to see?” one woman asked.

“Stygian,” said Marty. “Stygian; the greatest and most terrible pirate ever to sail the Great Bay—he’s anchored on a sandbank not 50 yards from here.”

“50 yards!” the captain breathed. “Good lord, we’ll all be dead in ten minutes!”

Marty suppressed a groan. These people were much too jumpy. “Not if you listen to me!” he snapped. “Now LET ME TIE YOU UP IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES!” Exasperated, he let his voice rise, never thinking of the consequences…

 

ab

 

Marty finished tying up the “prisoners”. “Have you guys got a weaponry in this place?” he demanded. “My little dagger isn’t much good here.”

“Aye.” The captain gave him directions, and Marty hurried off.

Marty climbed slowly down a pitch-black stairway, feeling the wall with one hand. He felt uneasy, He wasn’t sure it was the best idea to leave the crew and passengers tied up like sitting ducks, easy prey for Stygian. Too late now…he was going in.

Deeper and deeper he went, wondering how such a small ship could descend so far down, especially considering how shallow it was here. But he did not linger on it long, for at last the weaponry came into sight.

Spears, swords, and cracked shields lined the walls. Daggers and knives spilled from chests overflowing with weapons. Marty took five spears, a bow and arrow, and as many swords, knives, and daggers as he could fit into his little backpack. He was just starting to turn when a soft glow caught in his peripheral vision. He spun around.

A small, green-tinted glass bottle sat quietly shimmering with a soft yellow light. Marty picked it up and turned it slowly over and over. Inside was a sort of glowing sand. He poured a little onto his hand and there it sat, glowing.

Whatever it was, it might be useful. He squashed it into his already crammed pockets and dashed up the stairs.

Unfortunately, he met Stygian coming downward.

Marty had the one small advantage of surprise. Stygian jumped very slightly, enough for Marty to pull out one of the spears, jab the evil pirate out of the way with the blunt end, and run.

Up the stairs he flew. When he reached the top, he found Stygian’s crew guarding the nicely-trussed-up prisoners.

Oh, great. Marty suppressed a scream. Trade eighty weapons for eight prisoners. If only he hadn’t gone looking for weapons! “Rapids and Rods,” he muttered. "Maybe I’m not cut out for this kind of work.”

Double darning needles! he thought a moment later; the guard had heard him!

“Whos there?”

Marty chewed his lip as the big oaf started lumbering towards him. What to do? Then he had an idea. He knelt in the window frame and fired an arrow.

Stckf! It embedded itself in the deck. The coughing guard picked it up, looked at it for a minute, and then threw it back at the shadows. But Marty had already squirmed behind a rattling metal staircase and fired another arrow.

This one found its mark in the wooden frame of a deck chair. Marty raced up the stairs, feeling horribly exposed in the moonlight, and shot off a volley of arrows which rained down upon the deck. Each one avoided human targets, but Marty hoped his message was clear: Get your fat feet out of here or my arrows won’t miss.

The guards were shifting worriedly now. One glanced up before picking up a warped arrow and flinging it back up at the roof.

Marty dove out of the way just in time. The arrow tinged against the roof. Marty scrambled down a hatch and half-fell, half leapt into an apothecary.

There he stood, breathing hard and fast. This rather unexpected location on a cruise ship brought to mind a question that had been circulating in his head, just out of reach.

Why is there a weaponry—and an apothecary—on a cruise ship?

He couldn’t dwell on it. He needed to get a message to Marren and the others. They were all staring at Stygian’s ship, unaware that the dark pirate stood on the slowly-sinking Gray Apprentice beside them.

Marty put a hand in his pocket to touch his dagger, and there he came upon a scrap of silklike material—the sailcloth!

Yes!

Marty could’ve danced for joy. However, then he’d break all the nice herbal tinctures, not to mention bring Stygian’s crew running! Not to mention—was he turning out as reckless as his father before him?

Anyways, he could contact Marren with this bit of parchment. All he needed was a pen and a bit of thing rope, both things that could be easily found in an apothecary.

 

ab

 

On board the Trailblazer, Marren was watching Stygian’s ship, the Sunken Heart. Beyond it, a storm was building on the horizon, reflecting her mood. It pulsed with power, crackling with lightning and thunder that no-one could hear. It was beyond the Wall yet, but coming in fast, by the look of it.

And still Stygian’s ship remained as still as the sea around it…like the calm, Marren thought, before the storm.

 

ab

 

Marty saw his arrow fly through the air; saw Marren bend to pick it up. He only hoped she would understand…

 

ab

 

Thunk.

Marren spun around. A small, red-feathered arrow was embedded in the deck an inch from her boot. She picked it up and glanced back at the sinking ship. If this was an attempt to harm her, it surely fell short! Not that it would work, anyways.

A thin scrap of sailcloth was clumsily fastened to the arrow by a brown bit of course string. Her fingers trembled slightly as she untied it. What was it? A ransom note? A threat? But it was the pale white color of peace—oh, maledictions, what did that mean? All sailcloth was white; suppose that was all the pirates had? And who said white was the color of peace anyways?

Marren turned over the pale cloth and gave a startled laugh. There was the advertisement she herself had lettered. Which meant it must be from Marty…

Some of the words and letters were circled. Pirate, apprentice, wanted, now, aboard, the, gray, h, e, l, p.

She puzzled over it for a moment. He obviously needed help. Pirate apprentice wanted? Did that mean he was waiting for Tony? No, he hadn’t had any choice about the order of the words—so she must be meant to unmix it. It made sense if it read, “pirate wanted now.’ So apprentice must be later in the sentence. Aboard the—that must be the name of the ship. The Gray Help didn’t seem like much of a name for a ship. But wait! She had forgotten the apprentice!

The Gray Apprentice. Better, but still a weird name for a ship. Mareen had guessed by now that he needed her to cross the grappling lines, too. She looked across the gap between the two ships.

Shadowy figures moved across the deck.

Marren gave a yelp so loud it bounced off the water and knocked Lizzie’s hat into the waves. She whirled about and beheld their lookout facing neither in the direction of the Gray Apprentice nor towards the Sunken Heart. He was facing the Wall, humming! Some lookout!

“GET DOWN FROM THERE!” she roared. Tony whipped around, yelped, and fell off the mast.

He landed lightly, barely flinching, spun around and promptly shouted, “ALERT! ALERT! ALL CREW ON DECK! STYGIAN HAS PENETRATED OUR DEFENSES!”

I think you’ve read a fewww too many adventure novels, pal. Marren sighed. We didn’t have any defenses. “We are all on deck, you dimwitted dum-dum! Now GET BACK ON YOUR JOB!”

“But—you just told me to g-get down—” Tony stammered.

"I changed my mind.” She stuck her face right up close to his. “Go!”

He scuttled away.

Marren turned. “Weapons, check. UnderArmor, check. Determination, check. Ready your swords,” she told the crew calmly, “we’re going in.”

They barely made it across before one of Stygian’s shipboys cut the grappling lines.

 

ab

 

Tony waited until they had all swung across. Then he grabbed the last line and started wriggling along it.

Halfway there, the shipboy chopped the line. Tony gave a yelp as he fell with a splash into the icy-cold waves below.

Flailing about with his shirt clinging to his skin, he started splashing towards the Gray Apprentice. The moon shone coldly, ignoring his struggles, and Tony suddenly ran across and undercurrent.

He barely had time to gasp before it sucked him around the edge of the Gray Apprentice. He knew it would be deadly to scream, with so many pirates about, but if he didn’t he would surely drown. He opened his mouth…and gasped as a rope bonked his nose.

“Quick, grab on!” said Marty, popping over the edge of the deck.

“Oh!” Tony complied. Holding tightly to the rope, he hauled himself up the slick, barnacle-encrusted side of the boat. “Thanks,” he murmured, touching Marty’s shoulder. “Add that to the eighty-three times you’ve saved my life.”

Marty shrugged. “Thank me later.” He jabbed his finger at the deck below. “Big battle going on down there. I’ve been instructed to stay out of it.” He waggled an eyebrow at Tony.

“Ooh, me too!” Tony drew his short sword. “Let’s go!”

Together, they plunged into the fray.

 

ab

 

It was turmoil!

Marty grinned with exhilaration. This, he thought, was surely what he was born for; his life on the streets had prepared him well. He launched himself through the air and smacked into a large, tanned pirate, who twirled around and grinned.

“Hey, kid.” He snorted. “You’d better not be thinking of taking me on—I could fling you halfway ‘cross the continent!”

“That’s what you think.” Marty whirled his dagger, launched off the back of the nearest crew member, and send the man crashing into Marren, who tied him up hastily.

Marren paused in the fight long enough to duck over to Marty and whisper, “Get the prisoners!” before she whisked off again. Marty heard her calling orders across the deck.

Marty set to work, inconspicuously edging over towards the tied-up crew. Kneeling beside the nearest, a grizzled old man with a salty beard, he took out his silver dagger and cut the man’s bonds.

“Thank you, lad,” said the former prisoner in a soft, breathy voice. Suddenly he saw what was engraved into the ruby jewel embedded in the dagger’s hilt. “High, lad!” he gasped. “That be the Pied Piper’s symbol or I’m a monkey!”

“Well! You are certainly not a monkey, then,” muttered Marty, setting to work on the next prisoner. “That is his symbol, and I am his son.”

The old man fainted.

“Oh, fine and good!” Marty shouted. “Noe I have to carry you like a sack of potatoes!” He went on swiftly, freeing the others. Then he handed out knives and short swords. “Here, arm yourselves!” he whispered. “It’s be more than stupid, it’d be self-destruction to enter this battle, or even attempt to walk through it, without weapons. Now hurry!”

Off they went, in pairs. Marty led, or carried, whichever was necessary, the newly-freed people onto the Trailblazer and locked them—for their own safety—in a comfortable room belowdecks. Then he leaped back into battle; and his eyes shone as cold and bright as the blade of his dagger.

He saw Marren overcoming three burly sailors. “Don’t hurt them!” she cried. “We are not murdurers—take them prisoner if you can; do not harm them!”

Marty blazed through the mob of shouting, diving, running pirates. He was striking out to defend those who could not fight for themselves, and he felt completely Marty Griffin. Marty the Mighty, he thought; and laughed, to the incredulity of the pirates nearest to him.

One of Stygian’s darkest crew members suddenly loomed over Marty, pinning him to the ground with one hefty arm and raising his sword with the other. Marty gulped and squirmed, unable to get free. His vision went blurry.

Suddenly, the pressure was released and the man flew backwards with a yelp. Marty gasped and sat up.

Tony stood above him, waving his arms. “Okay, alright there. Clear out,” he shouted. “You can see I’m nothing to mess with! I never used to clean up my room.”

Marty tried to untangle that one and failed miserably. “Thanks, Tony.”

 “No prob!” His friend winked. “Now we’re even.”

And he dashed away.

Marty jumped to his feet, rubbing his throat. He turned and charged in the opposite direction.

On and on the battle raged. Someone on the Sunken Heart started firing cannons at the Gray Apprentice, and then there were cannonballs to avoid. Marty dashed about, helping wherever he could as the battle turned first in Stygian’s favor; then in Marren’s.

Suddenly a bolt of pain shot through his head. He cried out and fell, though he didn’t feel the pain of hitting the deck. It felt like someone had cleaved his skull open.

The sounds and sights of the battle faded away into a memory.

 

Marty was six. He and Eluda were shopping at the docks, Annie trotting along behind them. Every now and then Marty would put something into the bag his mother held, and smile.

"I wonder when father will be home,” he said to Eluda.

She ruffled his hair. "I don’t know, my dear. Hopefully soon. He was on a trip to the Dark Shoals to steal some of Stygian’s treasure, you know. He may take a while.”

Marty nodded, a little somberly. "I’ve been practicing lots,” he said to her. “The other day I stole a necklace from Bill and Bambi.”

Eluda smiled fondly. “That must’ve been fun, my dear.”

“It was! They almost caught me, though…Tony helped me out.”

“Tony?” Eluda frowned.

"A boy jus’ about my age. He was amazing.”

“Well, that’s nice, dear. I hope you’ve found a friend. But remember, no matter how nice they seem, you can’t trust anybody in the Lows.”

"I know, mom.” Marty sighed. "I’m always careful.”

“Hmm,” she replied. Her attention had been grabbed by a boy racing up the boardwalk.

He looked about thirteen, holding a scroll and wearing the tell-tale colors, red and yellow, of a messenger. “Let it be known!” he called, gasping. "A great storm, greater than has been known for many years, swept into the Dark Shoals yesterday!”

Marty met his mother’s eyes. “The Dark Shoals?” he whispered.

"A ship has gone down in the storm!” the messenger went on. “It is…the good ship the Shining Tomorrow! There were no survivors.”

“The Shining Tomorrow?” Marty whispered. “But…that was father’s ship.”

He looked at his mother.

It was the only time he’d ever seen her cry.

 

Marty opened his eyes, wondering why his head ached so much. His right eye pulsed with pain, making him wince with every passing minute. Shouts came from all around him, but he couldn’t focus on them just yet…he just couldn’t.

Suddenly he became aware of a voice repeatedly calling his name. Slowly the world came into sharp definition.

Marren stood over him, shaking him. “Marty! Wake up! Your captain is giving you an ord—oh. Thank skies! You’re awake.”

“What happened?” he managed. No more than a few moments could’ve passed; Tony was still fighting the same pirate.

“You collapsed,” Marren said sharply. "I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps you were hit on the head; although I see now sign of it. However, no time to worry about it; up you get!”

Marty staggered groggily over to the safety of the hold. After a few moments of rest, he felt better, and stood up. Then he noticed something.

Stygian stood alone on the quarter deck. His dark eyes flashed, and Marty realized what he had to do.

He snuck up behind the captain of Sunken Heart and thrust out his arm. Like lightning his hand twisted the captain’s behind his back, and Marty promptly sat on him!

"Perhaps,” said Marty cheerfully, “you would be so kind as to surrender?”

“Gak! Insolent worm!” The captain squirmed wildly.

"I’m not the one wriggling,” Marty said. He raised his voice. “Hey, Marren, I got him!”

“Huh? Oh! Good job!” Marren tossed him a coil of rope. “If you’d be so kind as to tie him up, the rest of ‘em are pretty subdued.”

“Sure.” Marty obeyed, then looked down at Stygian.

"I am the son of the Pied Piper, who managed to steal most of your treasure and return it to the ones you stole it from,” he said. “And now I have defeated you. I just wanted you to know.”

And so ended the Battle of the Sunken Hearts.~~

 

 hope you guys like it

laters 

What do y'all think of a fan-fiction with Dragonwatch and Greenglass House (specifically, the Titan Games and the old iron, but none the original characters)?

Would you read a story like that?

PS captcha says {nmugm}

Like, yum mug? Like those microwave mug meals?

Also, what do y'all think about a MCU roleplay? Everyone would create their own hero/villain/sidekick but I'd have a few of the originals, such as Iron Man or Loki.

I'd also create objectives for each person to complete. Sound fun? 

Also, CAPTCHA says {zetit} 

This is a story created by the writers of HEY EVERYONE! writers,...

 

 

Prologue:  A Brief History of the Seventh Era of Crynyd, as told by Mr. Storm Locksliver 

Kilazya, the great city of elves, was beautiful once. It still was, as Queen Nicole Crynyd reminded her subjects every day, peaceful, prosperous, and grand. However, much to Her Majesty's dismay, the citizens could never consider their home as beautiful as it was many years ago, when the people were free and unrestrained.

Presently, Kilazya was also the residence of the Neon Yellow Guards, who watched over the commoners with eagle's eye and vulture's talon. The NYG, as they were often referred to, controlled everything- under Her Majesty's instruction, of course; it was of utmost importance that she was able to keep everything in its proper place. They were stationed everywhere, their namesake neon yellow uniforms standing out against rain or shine, in the same fashion a poisonous frog's bright colors warn predators, "I am dangerous." 

Nicole's kingdom, in the early days of her rule, was a happy one. The elves were free, free to do what they wished, free to be what they would. The only laws the Queen found necessary were the basic ones, ones that forbid murder and theft and protected her city from evil. As time went on, though, Nicole became worried her wonderful kingdom would fall to ruin. She told her subjects that, anyway, though her true fear was more of herself falling to ruin, her subjects becoming dissatisfied with her rule and robbing her of it, that her glorious era coming to an end.

Nicole often dreamed of an ancient relic, one that could freeze her people and her city in an endless loop- doing the same things every day, staying where she could keep watch on them, gently and easily conforming to her ideal of everyday life. She longed for this item, but in all the tales she found of it, it had been destroyed centuries ago.

Rumors and suspicions passed among the commoners. "She's too weak to even open the palace doors without a servant!” Some would hiss to their neighbors. "She's incapable of rule, to blind to know greatness when it's right in front of her!" Some would scoff to their friends. "You're a pretentious fool," some would shout up to the palace balcony. "Too indecisive, too hesitant! You don't deserve to be a part of the great Crynyd line of rulers!"

Furious, the Queen passed new laws and hired the NYG to enforce them. She controlled what you could buy, what you could sell, what you could say, and what you could do. Anything you made had to be checked over. She decided when you could leave your house. She decided what food you got, what freedom you got and what you had to do. She built a huge wall to keep people out and in of the city. She had absolute control.

 Needless to say, the elves weren't going to just fall in line so easily. In the times the commoners were allowed to roam the city, they built passageways and tunnels to underground markets and safe spaces and chests to keep their illegal items. They built ways to escape the city for those who felt it necessary. When people began to go missing, the Queen ordered a search of their houses and a sweep of the city, but the elves were clever and hid their tunnels well.

One elf, by the name of Illis Starchaser, claimed he had the power of prophecy. He told the people of Kilazya there would be born a group of young elves of great skill. Some would be gifted stealth and determination or a good sense of right and wrong. Others would be blessed with magic from the gods above. Some would even come from outside of Kilazya. This group, he claimed, would be the one to end the tyranny of Queen Nicole Crynyd. The aforementioned ruler threw Starchaser in prison for treason. He died there, still believing in his prophecy... but if it was true, no one knows...

CHAPTER 1

Semyon’s P.O.V 

Semyon Aarseth was being escorted home. He had been to the market and allowed to by enough to keep him well fed. He was still rich and would donate money to the secret bank in the tunnels. He often though about the prophecy. Illis Starchaser...what if the prophecy was true? Was he one of them? No one had magic in over a century, unless Illis had the power of Prophecy. He wanted to meet Illis, and ask him all sorts of questions. There had been a rumor; no one could confirm it, that Illis was still alive. It seemed impossible.

“Move it! You don’t have all day!” came the familiar threat of a NYG. Instead of saying, “I don’t have all day,” it was “You don’t have all day.”

Semyon turned and said, “Actually I do. As you may recall, we have as long as we wish in the day. Unless the order comes from the queen herself.”

“Don’t get smart with me!” threatened the guard.

“I don’t understand what’s got you so angry? All I did was point out a little mistake,” said Semyon. 

“Yeah. It is a little mistake,” growled the guard. “Another mistake and you’re getting the Fist.”

Semyon didn’t get why they thought the Fist was so threatening. All they did was punch you with “the Fist.” It was pathetic really, but Semyon did not want to get punched, so he didn’t point this out.

When he got home, his guard stood by the only exit to the City of Kilazya. He made lunch and sat down to eat.

“Where are your manners? Make me some food, boy,” came another thread from the guard.

“You didn’t ask, so I assumed you were not hungry. Please sit,” said Semyon. “I knew you aren’t too hungry though. You ate a whole chicken well I was shopping.”

“Never mind! Don’t make me any food. I’ll get it myself!” said the guard.

“You sure? You look rooted to the spot. Isn’t moving against-,” Semyon began.

“Be quiet boy! Get me some food!” said the guard.

Semyon got some sandwich supplies and make a sandwich for the guard. He gave it to the guard, who looked at it carefully before eating it.

“Wondering whether I poisoned it?” asked Semyon.

The guard turned red with rage, but did nothing. Semyon had the only guard in the city who anyone could do what Semyon does. All the other guards are extremely strict. You can’t mess with them. Semyon’s guard you can mess with as long as you want without being too bad. This is why Semyon is so cocky.

“Lunch is over! You are to work in the fields till dinner!” said the guard.

“I did that yesterday. And I check the schedule. I am supposed to open my shop,” said Semyon. Then, adding fake concern, he said, “Are you alright? You seem forgetful today! Perhaps you should see a doctor.”

“I don’t need to! I just left my schedule at home! It’s nothing to be concerned about!” shouted the guard.

“Alright. Also, I have been forgetting to ask. Please, tell me your name,” Semyon said, hoping to learn this guard’s name.

“Fine! It’s Cranley Xinhai!” said the guard sulkily.

“Xinhai? You mean you’re related to Yaron Xinhai. The great warrior?” asked Semyon, pretending to be impressed,

“He wasn’t a warrior! He was a wizard! Killed for attempted murder of her Majesty!” shouted the guard.

I wish he succeeded, thought Semyon. They went out to Semyon’s shop, which was a possibility shop. There were many requests, as Semyon was the only one running this business. Many shops had duplicates. Farmer shops, stables, restaurants, you name it. The only shop without duplicates was the Possibility shop. Inside, there was possibility. You can get a job, find almost anything that the queen allows, and some claim to find other worlds. Semyon ran the only Possibility shop in the tunnels as well. But there, he sold next to everything. They used different money as well. That way, it wouldn’t be recognizable.

When it was dinner, Semyon made dinner for Cranley and himself. After sunset, the trading would begin. At sunset, Cranley went home. Now Semyon raced to his shop in the tunnels. He just finished setting it up when people came in. He limited twenty customers a night, that way some people would have to go to other places. This place was certainly busy. He closed up at midnight and headed to his bed. He slept very well.

Part Two

"Lyric."

The elf in question flinched, dropping the apple she was about to buy.

"I don't recall ever giving you permission to buy that."

Lyric turned around to face the NYG standing behind her. "I thought the queen passed a law stating each commoner can buy seven gold coins worth of produce a week," she said, trying her hardest to keep sarcasm out of her voice. "Sir."

"Because of your- ah- circumstances, we must take more precautions around you."

She bit back a sigh. One time! I lifted an NYG up in the air one time, and now I have to ask to buy food?  

"Put back the apple," said the guard pleasantly. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow for food, now."

Lyric bent down to pick up the tantalizing red fruit as her stomach growled. The guard smirked. Blinking back tears, she gave it back to the salesperson who seemed just as frustrated as Lyric did at the would-be purchase.   

A few months ago, Lyric would have never let that slide. She wouldn't have cared if she was disobeying the greatest power in Kilazya. She wouldn’t have cared if they tried to punish her; she was fast and clever. But then... then she lost control. She caught a guard about to hit a skinny seven-year-old who had stolen food. This had gone too far. Up until that point, Lyric had done her best to hide her powers. But that day, she was furious. More furious than she ever had been before. Using her telekinesis, she threw that evil man into a brick wall. He was fine, just a broken leg, and a concussion.  

Every guard in the area saw it. Every guard feared she was one of the elves Starchaser had foretold. She tried to convince them it was a fluke, and he slipped, and she kind of succeeded- mostly because the guards didn't want to believe the prophecy was true- but from that point on, she was watched like a hawk. And if she stuck one toe out of line, Lyric knew it could mean death.

Part Three

~~~Diamonique~~~

Diamonique Leonard would escape tonight. She couldn’t stand being watched! It was horrifying! She couldn’t even take a nap without permission. Her guard, “Master Ransom” Woods, was extremely strict. He hated her. It was very obvious. His real name was Colton Woods. She called him Master Ransom in her mind. It was ironic, actually. He would never pay a ransom.

“Move it! You’re mining tonight! The queen needs more Diamonds! Course, it must be hard to sacrifice one of your own!” He said with a laugh.

“Will you ever remember my name? Or are you too forgetful?” she asked.

“One more comment from you and you’re working till sunset!” He growled.

Like I don’t do that every single day. She thought. I always work until sunset. It’s nothing new. Whether I’m mining, or farming, or anything. Plus, I just got a new prophecy!

“Move it! You are way too slow!” the guard growled.

“Maybe you’re too fast. Slow down a little. This world’s never goin’ anywhere,” she grumbled.

“That’s it! You’re working till sunset! And no dinner!” the guard said.

At this point, it didn’t even matter. It happened almost every day. Did the guard even get it?

----------

That night, she packed up. She got everything ready. Suddenly, she heard a siren. She looked through the window. Guards were being sent out! Oh no... She put away her stuff and jumped in bed. A guard burst through her door.

“Come with me!” shouted Master Ransom Woods.

“Why? I’m supposed to be in bed,” I said.

“The queen has found a relic! It will tell if you are in IS’s prophecy!” He said.

IS was what they called Illis Starchaser. She got up and they headed out. Woods was acting really weird. She really wanted to find that out.

“What’s really going on?” she asked. “I know that it’s just a cover-up to get people moving.”

“IS is found. He is still alive,” said Colton.

“What? I need to talk to him!” I said.

“We don’t know where he is! We’re figuring out who’s hiding him!” Colton said.

“Hmph. Anyway, why would you tell me? You hate me, don’t you?” she asked.

He stiffened but didn’t answer. She was infuriated now. Why wouldn’t they tell her anything? They told her about IS, so why not this?

They arrived at the palace. Everyone was lined up next to his or her guard. Diamon stood next to Master Ransom. Many people were already questioned. When it was her turn, the queen asked various questions.

“Are you keeping IS in your house?”

“No. I do wish to talk to him however.”

“Do you have any powers?”

“Not that I know of.” A lie.

After the questioning was over, she went home. She slept well, but only because she knew that Illis is alive.

Part 4

Semyon got up. What a crazy night! He sighed and got ready for the day. As he got up, he wondered if they had been talking about Illis’s body. He couldn’t be alive!

“If you’re ready, then get to work! Make me some breakfast!” said Cranley.

“Morning. I have no food fit for a king. However, you are a beggar, so any food will do,” said Semyon.

The guard growled, but stayed silent. Semyon made breakfast which was a small cake. He cut a fourth for Cranley.

“What is this, Semyon? You should have this piece!” Cranley said.

“A little kid, are we? And you will eat a lot when we are about, this is no sacrifice,” said Semyon.

“One more comment and your shop will not be opening today. Instead, you will work in the mines!” said Cranley.

Semyon laughed quietly. Cranley glanced over which silenced him. When they were walking, Semyon saw a girl. He knew her name was Lyric because of what happened to her and a guard a while back. He smiled and waved at her. She looked confused but waved back. Good thing they didn’t throw her in prison.

He noticed some of his friends, and waved. Cranley glared at them with all the hate he could summon, and they burst out laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the end of the day, Semyon got ready for bed. He decided not to open his shop tonight. He fell fast asleep...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly, he woke up with a start. It was morning. How? He was in bed. How did it happen? He had been running through the woods. HE had broken through and reached... somewhere. The name was just barely there.

“MOVE IT!” yelled Cranley.

“Be quiet. I need to make some breakfast. For ME.” Semyon said.

“I need some as well!” Cranley said.

Semyon glared at Cranley’s hands. Cranley was holding some baguettes. Semyon glared back up at Cranley and the guard got the message. Semyon made some toast. He put butter and jams on it. Cranley made a gesture signaling to give him some butter. Semyon completely ignored him. They did work and Semyon noticed something. A map. The city in his dreams was listed. But it had been destroyed... Semyon would find it. It would be his escape.

Part 5

__________

 

Amelia paused to tug her hair out of her ponytail. The street was cobbled and quiet, the few guards looking bored, but she still stepped warily. She’d sold her weaving at the market and was heading home, but she knew one could get detained at any moment.

The guards looked up when they saw her and studied her for a moment, then made her explain what she’d been doing. After several minutes, she was allowed to pass and continued towards her village.

Her house was small and decrepit, tucked in the woods. People thought her terribly strange, the way she was seen walking into the trees every day; frankly, she was surprised no-one had gone searching in the woods for her dwelling. She stepped into the ferns, making her way along the deer trail, and eventually came over the hill and looked down at her house.

She nearly choked on her teeth. Soldiers swarmed around her house, banging on her door and hollering through the windows.

Frightened, Amelia pulled away; leaving her bags, and ran into the forest in search of her bow. As usual, it was in the little hollow where she practiced archery. She seized it, strung an arrow, and crept back to the cliff.

What did they want?

One of them, apparently too stupid to see that there was nobody in her house, hollered, “WE ARE LOOKING FOR ILLIS STARCHASER! ARE YOU HARBORING HIM IN YOUR RESIDENCE?”

Amelia rolled her eyes. Illis Starchaser died years ago, helmet head. She pulled back her bow and shot the arrow.

It landed across the stream, as she’d intended, and though she couldn’t hear the squelch it made, the soldiers could, and they turned towards the sound. As they all faced the stream, Amelia seized the rope trailing through the grass and, holding it tightly, leaped off the cliff.

She arranged this days before she went on her market trips, for the only way to get out of her valley was to row down the stream, and one could not wade back up it—so she had to leap off the cliff with the assistance of a rope. It was a fast, efficient method, albeit somewhat bruising.

She landed on the ground behind a heap of boulders, wincing as she tumbled, then rolled to her feet and ducked behind the stones. Peeking over the top, she watched one of the soldiers pick up the arrow.

“This came from the cliff,” he grumbled, glancing up. Amelia quickly shot another arrow. This one landed in the forest, making a great rustling as it crashed through the trees. The guards all ran in that direction and vanished into the trees.

Amelia grunted in satisfaction. All brawn and no brains. Fast as a diving hawk, she launched herself forward and ran. (Being an elf, she could run like the wind.) Just as the grouching soldiers emerged from the woods, she plunged behind her cottage, unlocked the back door, and slipped in.

Dust cascaded from the beams supporting the ceiling as the guards resumed pounding on the door. She ignored them and, with a few words of magic, gathered her possessions into a small leather bag. Then she slung it over my shoulder and considered how to escape.

She slunk to the back door and slid it open, only to find herself face to face with a shocked-looking guard. She stared at him, and he stared at her. She smiled demurely.

“May I help you?” she inquired. The next minute, magic was glowing in her hands and hurtling in a spear of light at the guard. With one quick spell she knocked him out and erased his memory. That should take care of him for a while.

            Turning, she leaped up onto the bottom ledge of the cliff and began to climb. Up and up and up she went. Anytime any of the guards started to look up, she shot an arrow, distracting them. When she reached the top, she hauled herself over, hurried into the woods, and sat down against a tree.

What is going on? Why have they developed the disillusion that Illis Starchaser is alive? A thought struck her. Could it be true?

            Could he actually have survived? And escaped?

Part Six

Snake was always her favorite knife. It cut perfectly through anything- presently, it was a new arrow to replace the one she lost- and after years of constant use, it fit perfectly in her hand. She'd even carved in two tiny little snakes on the knife with her other, inferior one. She'd started talking to Snake in her head, and it'd quickly became something of an alter ego, or a journal. 

She grinned at the expertly whittled arrow shaft. Perfection.

"Softfoot!"

She looked up. Nestled between two branches of a tall oak tree was another elf.

"Are you going to be done anytime soon? We're leaving tomorrow and-"

"I know, I know," Softfoot answered, tucking the shaft into her quiver. "I'll come help."

After a short bit of walking, the pair came to a clearing dotted with tons of animal-skin houses. Elves were running this way and that, taking down the settlements and feeding the horses and prepping the wagon-carriages for the journey. An older elf with gentle eyes and curly black hair looked up, relaxing visibly at their arrival.

"Softfoot, Stardust," she said. "Thank goodness. I'm trying to groom Isil and he just- won't- cooperate-"

Next to them stood a snowy white horse with a silver mane, who was whinnying and stamping the ground, shaking off the boar's hair brush and nipping at the elf. "I know you're each other's favorites, Softfoot, so can you give me a hand here?"

"Oh, Isil," Softfoot laughed gently. "Hey, it's okay, big guy. Settle... here, have a carrot..." 

She produced the crunchy vegetable from her pocket, and Isil stepped tentatively toward her. When he was close enough, Softfoot ran her fingers through his smooth mane. "It's okay," she murmured. "It's okay... hand me the brush, will you, Eternal?"

"Thanks," Eternal handed it to her, and murmuring softly, Softfoot stroked the horse gently. Before long, Isil was free of tangles and relaxed.

"No problem," Softfoot said quietly. "Hey, do you know how far we're moving this time?"

"Until we see signs of abundant food, as per usual," Eternal said. "I know it won't be far, though, because there's a city nearby and you know Yarrow doesn't like to get too close."

"Thank goodness," Stardust sighed. "Last migration was brutal."

"You're just weak, Dusty." Softfoot grinned. "And short." Stardust was three years younger than she was.

"Like I've told you before, it's Stardust," he huffed. "If you must shorten it to anything, call me Star."

 "Whatever you say, Dusty," Softfoot said innocently.

Part Seven

~~~Diamonique~~~

Diamon was very annoyed. Master Ransom had been ignoring her as much as he could. She decided to try walking of while he was asleep. She made food and he fell asleep soon after. She walked outside. The air was not fresh, and not calming. She took a walk. There were no flower gardens, parks, fountains, any of that. The queen had decided to get rid of them as they served no purpose if the people never walked upon them.

“You there! Hello! You probably do not know of me, but I am the one and only-,” said a strange man who was cut off by the sentence of “MOVE IT” from his guard.

“One and only what?” I asked.

“Semyon is my name! How are you?” He asked.

“Fine. You?” I said.

“Perfect! Oh yes! Why do you have no guard?” Semyon asked.

“He fell asleep and I wished to see the city without need to hurry. Now that I look at it, it is a filthy place. There is no beauty except for what we wear,” I say.

“Exactly! No beauty, no love! People have said that we Kilazyaians will become extinct because there is no love!” He said.

“Sorry! I have to go before he wakes,” I said.

“Who? Your guard?” He asked.

“Yes, my guard. His name is Colton Woods. I call him Master Ransom,” I say proudly.

“Ransom! Such a funny name! Well, I too must be off! I hope to see you soon!” he said.

I walk back wondering about Semyon. He talked so strangely! When I opened the door, Master Ransom was pacing.

“What? You weren’t looking for me in this filthy city?” I ask bitterly.

“No! I figured you would come back,” He said.

“Well, so what? This city is worth nothing!” I proclaim.

“How dare you! Anything the queen rules are worth everything you could ever wish for!” He exclaimed.

“Even her death?” I ask.

“You will work all day! No tending your shop! You are farming from now till sunset!” He said with a angry look on his face.

“I don’t care. You guards are so clueless!” I said angrily.

I ran out the door. I didn’t care what happened. My prophecy included my life so I assumed I would survive. I ran into Semyon.

“Oh! Hello again! How might you be now? I am still as you left me! Oh yes! What is your name?” He asked.

“Diamonique. I am angry now!” I said.

“Why?” He asked.

“My guard is so clueless! HE can’t figure out the simplest things!” I exclaimed.

“My guard is quite clueless! He I also quite forgetful!” Semyon said.

“Both of you! Come on!” said Semyon’s guard

“Why me?” I ask.

“If you don’t have a guard, you are under my command for now!” The guard says.

We work together for the whole day. Then the guard takes me home.

“Here you go. Now leave us!” the guard says grumpily.

“I will not enter that house if my clueless guard is in there!” I said.

“Then stay with us! We have extra room!” Semyon said.

“Sure.”

I stay the night. We have a great time. I don’t give a thought to Master Ransom all night.

###############################################

The next morning, I wake up. Semyon is making breakfast. I eat and head home. Now I am not quite so angry, so I don’t care as much.

“So, you’re finally back?” asks Colton.

“Yeah. So? Not like you cared. You are a wonderful guard,” I say sarcastically.

“Well, time to get to work!” He says.

“No. I will not work today. I have had enough of this city!” I exclaim.

“You will do as the queen orders you!” He growls.

“Except that the queen isn’t ordering me! You are! When I work extra long, you gave that order! Not the queen!” I protest.

“Perhaps that is true, but it doesn't matter!” He says.

I work and plan my escape. I will get Semyon to come and anyone else who wishes to come. I do not want to live in this city!

Part 8

Diamonique’s P.O.V

When would I be allowed back at school? The school was still open, but my guard did not let me go. It was quite frustrating. I noticed Semyon walking by my house again, so I ran out to meet him.

“Oh! Hello! How might you have been and are being currently?” He asks.

“That is incorrect grammar, I think. I can’t remember now. Anyways, can we meet up later?” I ask.

“Uh-huh! You know just where to find me!” He says.

I run back inside my house. Colton has yet to arrive. I pack my school stuff and change into my school clothes. Then I head out.

#################

Long story short, I went to school for most of the day. When I came home, Colton was extremely mad at me and yelled at me for about an hour. Then I told him that I would be going to school whenever I wanted and he could do nothing. Then I went to my room and flopped on my bed. I set my alarm for the times I needed to get up at and fell fast asleep.

#################

When I woke up, I headed to the passage. I went to Semyon’s shop and we discussed my escape plan.

“The only problem is that I have no idea where to go,” I finish.

“I know where...” Semyon says.

“Where?”

“Adenadence...” Semyon said.

“Wasn’t it destroyed?” I ask.

“Yes. But we may be able to rebuild it if we bring enough people...” Semyon pondered.

We made a sign-up sheet and hung it in the tunnels. Now we had to wait. Then, at the worst possible moment –because we were all in the tunnels- a siren went off. Everyone hurried to get home. I barely made it. Colton demanded that I come with him. So I did.

##################

After we arrived at the palace, I noticed others were here. Semyon, some village people, someone who I think lived slightly outside of the city, Lyric, who was famous for her little “accident”, and some other people I didn’t recognize.

The first question was what shocked us all. “How are you getting items that aren’t allowed, escaping, and disappearing at night?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have not finished it. 

.....

Eula gently swiped her thumb over Bitty's chapped lips, pretending not to notice the anguish in her eyes. The pink eyes and pale skin of the latter were scarred with unmistakable tearstains, traced and deepened by the thin shadows and highlighted in a faint bluish-purple glow.

Only the golden eyes that stared back didn't match the scene.

"Lala..." The words were choked out, raspy and painful, "Lala, please don't... P-please- I beg you, I'll do anything... Just please don't do it..." 

The golden eyes remained empty as a smile creeped up into their matching lips. It should've worked. That was what made her want to laugh; just a little while ago--heck, just days ago--and that kind of begging from the only person that meant anything in her life would've made her drop everything and desperately go over in an attempt to soothe the girl. It really should've worked this time too.

The corners of the golden eyes creased until the gold disappeared, as if to hide the hollow irony within.

"Sorry, Bitty. I'm afraid I can't." Her thumb continued its trek across Bitty's cheek. The pink eyes widened in horror.

"W-why? If someone's threatening you, I can-" 

"Bitty."

The pink eyes lowered, voice trailing off, and Eula's hand fell to her own side. In her head, she cut the string that connected them for good. There. It was absolutely over. "I said 'I can't,' didn't I?" Her eyes were dark and yet still seemed to shine, glinting ominously against the dimness of the room. "I meant it."

A red button caught her eye on the control panel. It was impossible to see from where Bitty was currently situated, and as long as she didn't come any closer and was kept distracted, it would stay that way. Eula smiled, a gesture that went unnoticed when cloaked in the dark. She slowly stepped towards it, all senses peeled for any strange occurrences.

"Lala, wh-why are you doing this? Answer me for real this time." Bitty's voice trembled, eyebrows scrunched up like she was pretending to be angry or commanding, or maybe both. It was just adorable. The smile sunk deeper into Eula's lips. Why? Did it really matter, why? When had it ever mattered before? Did it- No. Calm down. Eula shook her head lightly and the dark crawling-feeling under her skin dissipated, like ice to a blowtorch. She was no monologging villain, and certainly not some idiot who’d ruin her own plans by revealing them to a party that couldn't be trusted-- especially not when the other party was clearly dead-set against her own goal.

"Quit playing around. It's over, Bridget." Bitty looked like she had just been slapped. 

"Bridget?" Disbelief and indignation rose in that usually-soft voice, actually making it sound angry for the first time. "Since when- What- Did you just- Why-???" She sputtered, seemingly incapable of forming a complete thought in frustration.

Eula internally punched herself, desperately forcing down the lid of the chest that held her heart and those pesky left-over emotions with every mental ounce of strength she had left. Why did she have to say something so openly provocative??? Who knew what would happen if she let herself lose her cool here? That had been way too irresponsible! She steadily inched towards the button, cursing and forcing herself to retain a blank expression. Maybe… Just maybe, it was for the best…

However, Bitty seemed to notice this strange behaviour and in an instant her eyes had found the button. It all connected in that moment; her eyes widened, she lunged forward.

"LALA NO-" It was only a split second that Eula had to react, but pushing a button is always easier than keeping someone from pressing the button. When the movement ended, there was only silence. Black, sickening silence. Eula removed her hand and it stayed down, fixed in its "pressed" state. 

Suddenly, a wave of deadening sound rent the very air, pulsing through and rocking the ground like a violently hungry monster tearing to get in. A crack appeared in Eula's composure. The shaking and tension only let it spread; then silence again. 

But the damage was already done. By then, the crack had spider-webbed, wiggling itself into a thousand pieces, all threatening to shatter loose at the slightest breath.

A whimper stirred the thick silence.

And Eula broke.

A laugh tore from her throat, every last particle reverberating-- trembling in relief as she doubled over, her insides no longer threatening to burst open in the name of hiding that unwanted secret. It was over. She did it. Her laughter echoed and bounced around everything, tickling her into laughing again, somehow even harder.

"Lala-- no, Eula! How... How could you?" Bitty's torn voice drew her back to reality. It was painful-sounding, like it was ripping her throat just to get those words out, making the other girl grimace internally. She made no move of resistance when the gentle girl reached up and grabbed Eula's collar with all the force she could muster. Her expression didn't change as she was fixed with a glare, eyes brimming with tears; her tiny frame trembling with anger and grief. Nothing came out of that golden-eyed face. She didn’t need to justify herself. Instead, she just watched, pretending she felt nothing as the girl she once loved brokenly sobbed into her chest. 

She tilted her head up, knowing it wouldn’t matter in the end. It was never meant to be. Fleeting emotions, or even deeper affection, would only hold out--linger helplessly in this world--for so long. But this was all for The Cause; after all, The Cause would last for years to come. It was the beginning of something new and real, and would change everything for the better. She just knew it.

And so here was no going back, nor was there any room for compromise. 

[Fin]

~~~~~~~~~~ 

This is part of a longer story I've been writing. It's the second half of the chapter, so the beginning had to be altered slightly to let you get a better grasp of the characters/setting, since you don't have much context. (Also I didn't proofread yet so sorry if there are any misspellings/etc.)

Any opinions/suggestions?